Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

July 2018

“-And you’re telling me… he ate it?” you asked with your voice groggy.

The question came out more like a statement.

There was a small laugh that came from the other end of the line. “Yes,” he dragged out. “He ate it. I told you this like three times.”

“I know, it’s just...nevermind-“

It wasn’t that you didn’t know the reason the boy ate it. But you were amazed. Amazed that someone would have the courage to eat that treacherous thing. You found it revolting to even look at it. Even if it was just a cursed object, it still resembled a human finger.

“Anyways...”

You were snapped out of your disgusting thoughts. “I want to know if he’ll be okay- specifically if he’ll die later on just from that one finger. So…?”

Ah, so that’s why he called. “Well, it’s been a whole day since the kid ate it, right? So, if anything were to happen to him from just that one finger, it would’ve happened by now.”

A slight hum of acknowledgment was all you heard.

“That being said,” you sighed out.

“Even if he is able to suppress Sukuna at will, it might become more difficult for him to control him as he eats more fingers.”

There was no hint of acknowledgement this time. Must be in really deep thought then.

“To be safe; give him another finger. If he’s going to die, he’ll die from that one. Even if he doesn’t die, you’ll need to make sure it’s not just a physical tolerance. See if he’s able to fight off Sukuna’s possession after he eats it.”

A sigh filled your ear. “Alright! Will do!”

You cocked your eyebrow. “Are you sure the kid is okay with eating 19 more of those disgusting things.”

“He’s eaten one, I’m sure he can do it again.” he said slyly.

“You should be glad that he didn’t get some parasite from that unsanitary thing.” you mentioned under your breath.

He chuckled at your comment. “So how’s Rome for you?” he playfully added. God, what the hell was he trying to do?

“Gojo, it’s two in the morning here, I’m sure you’re aware.” you scoffed out. “Why you felt the need to call me at this time? That I do not know. But, I’d like to return to being unconscious.

Another laugh. This time it was from the gut.

“Ahh c’mon, can’t answer one question before ‘returning to being unconscious’, hmm?” he mocked.

That fucker.

You sighed and closed your eyes for a few seconds in annoyance. You could feel the gritty sand-like sensation in your eyelids.

“It’s fine- it’s nice,” you said quickly. “Just do me a favor, okay? I come back from this San Lorenzo assignment in two weeks. Just let me see the kid when I get back.”

“Alright, I can do that I guess.”

You scrunched a handful of your hair and sighed. “How’s Fushiguro?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he sang into the phone.

He must of felt your glare and tension through the phone, because he immediately solidified his tone and spoke again.

“He’s fine. Shoko will be available later today to fix him up.”

“good...” you said in a low voice as you breathed out in relief.

“I’ll let you go back to your precious beauty sleep then.” he over exaggerated the last few words. “Oh! Bring me back a souvenir will ya?”

“You have enough souvenirs already.”

“Ahh, c’mon, but I haven’t been to Rome.”

“Stop lying.”

“Not that specific district- oh I know, bring me back some Torta Caprese!” he said with an accent.

“That was an English accent, not Italian.”

He tried again. “Torta Caprese!”

“French.”

He tried again.

“I’m not even sure what accent you were trying to imitate there,” you said flatly.

“Goodbye Gojo.”

“Wait. Let me try again-“

You sighed into the phone before he could make another failed attempt. “Think of the Super Mario Brothers.” Before he could even comprehend your sentence, you hung up.

The man slowly removed his phone away from his ear and held it in front of him as he leaned his back against the wall. He looked down at the phone, the call log read ‘7:43’.

He lifted his head to look straight ahead. “Aha, Mario Bros.- okay!” he said under his breath as he shook the phone a little with a smile.

The door slid open. The blindfolded man walked in and stationed himself against the door. The pink-haired boy’s head was lowered as he collected the ashes from the long table. He carefully picked up fragments of bones that remained and put them aside.

“If all the parts of Sukuna were gone, would it really help?”

The boy paused. He carefully picked up fragments of bones that remained with chopsticks and put them aside.

“Would fewer people get harmed by those curses?” His voice was somber and genuine.

A tiny smirk came across the man’s face. “Yes, of course.” he said softly.

The boy delicately put the lid on top of the urn with a heavy sigh. “You still got that finger?” he asked as he walked over to the door.

The boy caught eye of the finger in the teacher's hand and carefully grabbed it. He closely examined it before he spoke. “Looking at it again in broad daylight, it looks pretty disgusting.”

The tall man carefully stepped back as he smiled. “I’m sure one of my friends would agree.”

The boy took one more close look and gulped down the cursed object.

There was silence for only mere seconds.

The sound of mist filled the room. Markings fading in from an opaque grey to an intense black revealed themself on the boy’s face.

Flashes of red, black and green erupted from the teens body. A mixture of uncomfort and disgust showed on his face; along with quick twitches of his now two identities.

As quickly as the combustion of energy appeared, it vanished. The boy hunched over- clawing at his chest. Grunts and wheezes followed, and so did the low growl of the curse inside him.

Stumbling to the wall, he started laughing. The merge of the two voices filling the room.

There was silence again.

“Yuck! So gross!” the boy grabbed his throat as he stuck his tongue out.

A grin plastered itself onto the teacher's face. There was only one thought that came into his mind.

Perfect.

You were still awake. After the unannounced phone call you drank gulps of water by the bottle. Your phone still laid in your hand as you sat up staring at the dim room.

Yuji Itadori.

Whoever he was, he must have had a few loose screws. Not just for eating the first finger.

It was for even considering to remain a tool to the Jujutsu world.

Was Itadori truly a vessel? Or just a plain old kid that had been cursed?

Chapter Text

[July 2018] One day after Yuji Itadori’s consumption of Sukuna’s second finger

“There’s another first year.”

You raised your eyebrows as you unsheathed the knife from its block. You hadn’t heard of there being another one.

“oh?”

“I believe they’re all going to meet up in the city to get to know each other.” Shoko took a quick puff of the cigarette between her fingers before continuing. “She’s from-“

“She?” You quickly questioned.

“Yes...she.”

You smiled a bit to yourself as you quickly chopped the stalk of celery with the sharp blade. The student was a girl. Perhaps Zen’in could have a playmate for a change you thought to yourself. You hummed in response.

“Well, ‘she’ is from the countryside; grew up in the outskirts of Tohoku in a small village. She wanted to meet up in Harajuku.” Shoko enlightened as she tapped the tip of her cig on the railing.

Yea, she was a country girl alright. You could tell just by her choosing to meet up in such a high traffic tourist area.

“They should all be together by now.” Another puff of smoke filled Shoko’s lungs. “Before I have to go-“ she started.

“What do you think of Sukuna’s vessel?”

You chuckled a little at the question ; eyes still looking down at the cutting board. “I know you, Shoko.”

Short hum of surprise came from her. “You do now?” she questioned with an amused tone.

“I do.” you grinned.

“You want to examine, inspect and pry at him as much as I do.”

Silence on the other end. Followed by a breathy laugh from her. “You got me there.”

There was a mutual amount of curiosity between you and Shoko. Sukuna’s vessel was an extraordinary discovery. Was it genetics that made his body compatible with Sukuna's power? Was it just plain dumb luck? It was a once in a lifetime thing, and you felt truly lucky to be in the same timeline of events that had unfolded.

“Don’t go stealing my guinea pig now.” Shoko urged.

Your smile still lingered. “I have less than two weeks til I get back. You should have time to study him before then.”

You sliced the last bits of the celery. “If not, i’ll gladly step in for you.”

Shoko breathed out another laugh. “I’ll call you again if something comes up, okay?”

“Until then.” You said before hanging up.

You scrapped the produce off of the board into a bowl. You washed your hands before going back to the counter. There was a small ‘ping’ of your phone. You grabbed it off of the counter, it was a message with an attached image from Gojo.

You examined the photo. There was a pink-haired boy in the front. He was smiling so much that it looked as if he was going to be executed now if he didn’t. Next was a brown haired girl. There was a large grin on her face and she held up a peace sign. Next was Megumi in the back. You knew he didn’t smile often, but oh my, he looked like he wasn’t feeling it at all today. Then lastly was their blindfolded teacher holding up a peace sign as well while smiling into the camera.

Your phone rang with the familiar name poping up on the screen.

“You like my students?” Gojo asked. You could feel his wide smile through the phone.

“They’re cute.” You didn’t know what you expected Sukuna’s vessel to look like. But it certainly wasn’t what you saw. He looked so innocent. You assumed that his physique would be above average to handle such a powerful curse. But he just looked like a regular high school boy.

“We just met up with the girl an hour ago. Nobara Kugisaki.” He dragged out the last vowel of her name. “She has a lot of personality.”

“She looks like she does.” you replied as you glanced at the photo once more. “Why does Megumi look so-“ you stopped yourself, trying to think of the right word.

“-unhappy?”

Gojo paced back and forth. “Haha, he’s a bit upset that he can’t go with the new students to kill a few curses.” Gojo looked over to Megumi with a smirk. Megumi rolled his eyes and faces the other way.

Hmm made sense. Fushiguro was that type of person.

“Actually, he’s right beside me sitting down! Wanna speak to him?” Seemed like it wasn’t a question. “Here!” Gojo said as he handed the phone over.

“Wait what-?” said Megumi before the cellphone was shoved into his face. He held up the phone to his ear. “Um- hi, Doctor [L/N].” he stuttered.

“Hi Megumi.” you greeted.

“You should lighten up a bit. You’ll only need to rest a bit longer before you can be back in the front lines. So take it easy”

A long sigh came from the other end.

“I’ll try.” he said.

You smiled a bit at his depressing response. “Good. The new students are the same age as you. You should have a bit of fun and try to make some new friends.”

“Alright.” he said in a low voice. “Do you still want to speak with Gojo?” he asked.

“Yes please.” you said. Megumi handed the phone back to Gojo. “Have a nice chat?” You ignored his comment.

“Remember that favor?” you asked.

Gojo rolled his eyes as he smiled in the phone. “How could I ever forget?”

“Okay, just reminding you.”

Gojo laughed. “Just can’t wait to get your hands on him, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s an interesting test subject, that’s all.”

Gojo hummed to himself. “Well as long as it doesn’t interfere with his training, then I guess we’re fine.”

At least he remembered you thought to yourself. “I have to get going. Don’t annoy those kids too much, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.”

Two Weeks Later

The last time you talked to him was the day they met up with Kugisaki. You walked the airport, looking for what luggage section your suitcase was supposed to be in. You got one more call from him.

“Could you call me in maybe an hour?” you said as you walked past the sea of people. “I just landed and I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment.”

There was silence on the other end. “Gojo?”

More silence.

You looked down at your phone to see if you had accidentally hung up. Everything was fine, you were still on call. You raised the phone back up to your ear. You heard him take a deep breath in before he spoke.

“Itadori is dead.”

Chapter Text

You stopped in the middle of the baggage claim. A few former passengers bumped into you. You didn’t even care at that point.

What the Fuck? Was what you wanted to say, but you opted for something more appropriate.

“-what?”

The lifeless body laid before the adults.The room was cold and eerie. The lights flickered a sickly white color above.

“Regardless, you shouldn’t torment Ijichi too much.” Shoko said as she twirled the strands of her hair. “It’s hard for him to be stuck between us and the Higher Ups.”

Gojo leaned forward between his legs. “I don’t care about another man's hardships.”

The medal door slid open. You stepped through the doorway as you straightened the cuff of your shirt.

“Well you should, before your driver here drops you off and never comes back.”

“Ah- Ms. [L/N], good evening” said Ijichi as he bowed.

“Evening.” You walked to the wall across from the three and leaned your back on it.

“Ahh.” Gojo sighed out. “You’re siding with him too I see.”

“You’re going to look real stupid if he ever quits.” you remarked.

He laughed as he leaned back and crossed his legs. “As if he’d ever.” Gojo shifted his body, leaning closer to where Ijichi was standing. “Pays to well, right Ijichi?” he jeered. The black-haired man's shoulders sulked as he looked down at the floor, holding his hands together.

“Don’t answer that Ijichi…” The man looked up from the ground. “He only teases, let me know if he does something sketchy.” Ijichi smiled a little as he nodded.

“Disappointed?” Shoko asked. She was looking down at the deceased teen; the outline of his body imprinted on the sheet that covered him.

“No, you beat me to him fair and square.” you said as you crossed your arms. “Though I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Shoko turned towards you.“You could assist me if you’d like?”

“That’s alright. I’m just here to spectate.” You walked over to the other side of the table and stood over the corpse.

Shoko took the sheet covering the boy’s body and flung it off. “So this is Sukuna’s vessel.” Yours and Shoko’s eyes gleamed at the sight. There was a gaping whole on the left side of his chest. It was so unfortunate that the kid had to go out in such a horrid way. You hoped that his last moments were peaceful. You examined the boy a bit further.

“His face looks different from the photo you sent, Gojo.” you observed while still looking at the boys face.

“Fushiguro said when he died, he was still in Sukuna’s form.”

Both you and Shoko turned to the man sitting down. “Megumi watched him die?” you said with your brows furrowed in shock.

Gojo sighed as you brought his hand up to his head. “Yea-“

You looked down at Itadori’s body. You had watched many people die before. Whether it be from being a Physician or a Sorcerer. But seeing such things for a kid was surely traumatizing. “Well, where’s he now?”

“In the infirmary-” Shoko blurted out. “Well he ‘was’.”

“He fought one on one with Sukuna.” Your eyes widened in shock. “He has a few bruised ribs and faced some trauma to the head, but other than that he’s stable and up and moving”

You turned to Shoko “What about the girl, Kugisaki?”

Ijichi answered instead. “I drove her to the hospital. She only had a head injury.”

You looked over to Gojo with a serious expression. “You didn’t think to tell me this on call?” you calmly asked.

“I was lost in the moment,” he said.

You sighed and let him be.

“So I can cut him up, yes?” Shoko asked.

“Just make good use of him,” said Gojo as he leaned forward.

You and Shoko began to examine the carcass. You heard Ijichi and Gojo talk to each other in the background. It was sad that he had to die in such a way, but what an opportunity this was. “Excited?” you whispered to Shoko.

She looked up from the boy’s body. She smiled just so you could barely see it. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s written all over your face.” you taunted.

You and Shoko did a portion of your residency together. You had known each other for more than six years. It was easy for you to know when she was merry. She wasn’t stone-faced though, and neither were you. You knew she felt sympathetic for the kid despite her excitement.

“It is exciting, but I wish I could have seen how he was alive too. He seemed like a happy kid. It’s a shame.” she mewled while picking up a pair of gloves.

Shoko turned towards Gojo and Ijichi. “Hey you two, I’m going to get started. Are you gonna watch from there?” she asked as she started to put on her gloves.

You stood behind her and crossed your arms as you examined the gaping whole in the boy’s chest. The hole seemed to get closer and closer to your face. You backed away and looked up from the hole. Your mouth gaped open and your eyes widened in confusion.

Holy Shit.

Ijichi started to stamper while pointing to the table. Gojo’s mouth hung open in shock. Shoko noticed Ijichi’s inaudible stutters. “Hmm?” she hummed as she turned around.

“Whoa! My dick is hangin out!”

Everyone looked at the boy. His legs were spread and he was staring right down at his crotch.

“G-GOJO… h-he’s alive-“ The blindfolded man just laughed beside him as he held his hand to his forehead.

Shoko was still holding the edge of the glove. “I’m a little bummed.”

“Mhh, I was looking forward to watching.” you said as you walked over to grab a hospital gown from the closet.

“Yea it’s a bit embarrassing...but -uh, who are you guys?” Itadori questioned.

Gojo stood up while still laughing. “Hey Yuji.”he said as he waved his hand. The boy looked at him with a surprised expression.

“Welcome Back.”

—————-

An eventful day. That’s what you would call it. You felt grief, sadness, excitement, pain and shock all in the span of 24 hours. That was a new record.

You walked the long path in the garden, the white-haired man by your side.

“Shoko told me your holding in to the report for Itadori’s resurrection,” you said.

Gojo’s hands were in his pockets. He looked up at the sky before speaking. “Y’know they say birds don’t always have to chirp their song.”

You side-eyed him. “No one has ever said that, in the history of ever.” you groused.

“Okay, maybe not-“

“Buuuut-“ he dragged out. “That was a pretty good metaphor. Made it myself!” he said with a smile.

You grinned a little and rolled your eyes. “Why are you holding the report?”

Gojo sighed as he looked back up at the sky. “I don’t want the Higher Ups to know yet. He’ll get targeted again no doubt.”

“So you’re going to keep him hidden?”

“Not exactly.” he smiled. “I’m waiting until he can get the basics of Jujutsu. He’ll be back in the game by the Exchange Event.I don’t want any of the students knowing he’s alive.”

“Ah, okay.” you acknowledged. It seemed like a pretty solid idea.

Gojo rested his forearm on your shoulder and tilted down to your height. “But…” he started.

“What do you mean ‘but’?” you glared.

“That’s where you come into play!” he beamed.

Chapter Text

The cafe was filled with the sound of scrapes and taps of silverware on plates. Along with the aroma of freshly cooked food. The place was cozy, but spacious. It was comfortable; the smooth wood that covered the tables and chairs, the big windows that illuminated the place. It was nice.

You took another bite from your omelette as you stared at the man in front of you. He was looking down; glasses on the bridge of his nose, white hair almost covering both of his eyes. Just a sliver between the strands of hair is where you saw his eyelashes angled down. His knife scraped the plate as his fork stabbed the fluffy stack of pancakes in front of him.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked with a smirk as he continued to look down at his plate.

“No.” you answered plainly. “Why?”

His smirk grew a bit wider. “You’re stealing glances at me. It’s...“ He paused for a second. “-unsettling.”

You chuckled a little to yourself, just loud enough for him to hear it. “Unsettling?” you mused. “Do you think I’m unsettling to be around?” You tapped your fork on the plate. “If anything I thought you of all people would like the attention.”

He picked up the section of pancakes with his fork then ate them. “When you stare at me like that, I think I’ve done something wrong.” he said as he chewed down on his food.

You laughed again. So paranoid you thought to yourself. “You look nice today, that’s all.” you said as you cut into your breakfast. He did. It was a rare occurrence for anyone to see his outing clothes or for his blindfold being replaced with the rectangular sunglasses he wore.

He looked up from his food. His crystal blue eyes showed just above his transparent glasses. “Oh, c’mon now doctor, don’t make me blush.” he said with a snarky smile. The man sighed. “Though I will say it hurts me. You don’t think I look nice everyday?”

You hummed to yourself as you took a bite of your omelette. “Do you need something? Is that why we’re here?” you asked.

Gojo scoffed. “I can’t just enjoy a normal outing with you without wanting anything?” He rested his cheek in his hand as he pouted.

“I’m not saying that.” you corrected. “But it’s obvious you need something from me.” You smiled.

“And how is it obvious?” he said with a smirk glued to his face.

You reached for your glass of water and took a few swigs. “You call people by their titles when you need something from them.” You put your glass back down and continued eating. It was amusing seeing him trying to figure himself out. His eyebrows contorting as different thoughts filled his mind. Did he? Did he only use titles when he needed something? He would try to butter people up by using formalities; otherwise, you believed he felt as if he were above using them. That’s what you concluded from your time knowing him.

“Well, Doc,” he said as he put down his cutlery. “I guess I can’t get anything past you.” He tapped his index finger on the smooth wood of the table. “I need a favor.”

You pressed your lips together. Yes, you asked for favors also, but when this cocky man asked for them, they were almost always extravagant. You raised your eyebrows, a signal for him to continue.

“I need a mentor for Yuji.” It certainly was not what you were thinking he was going to ask. In fact, it was a more dull request.

“A mentor for him?” you questioned.

“Yes, I need you to teach him one of the things you can do with your technique.”

“There’s a lot of things I can do with my technique, Gojo. You need to be a bit more specific.”

“You knoooow… “ he whined. “The one that goes like pow.” He punched out his fist into the air. “And then pow again.” He touched his knuckle with his index finger and flung it out into your direction.

Despite his horrible efforts at a demonstration, you understood what he meant. “Do you think he’s able to do that kind of thing yet?”

“The past few days he's trained a bit under my belt. He catches on quickly, that Yuji.” he smiled. “But for him to carry on further…” Gojo took his fork and raised it to your eye level. “I need you to teach him a few tricks,” he said as he bobbed the fork a few times in front of your face.

“When?”

“Tomorrow!?” he quickly answered as he raised his eyebrows.

“No can do, I have to clock into the hospital tomorrow,” you rebutled. “How about tomorrow evening?”

“Works fine,” he said as he stuffed another bite of pancakes into his mouth.

You turned around towards the back of your chair and grabbed your bag. You reached inside and grabbed the clear box and slid it to the white-haired man across from you. The box was decorated with a small gray bow that wrapped around it.

“Here,” you said.

The man gasped. “My souvenir!” He smiled as he picked it up. “I knew you wouldn’t forget it.” He gently took the bow off of the box and opened it. Taking his fork he swiftly cut into the baked good. He took a bite and licked the powdered sugar off of his fork. “Delicious,” he said with a smile.

After he swallowed, he continued. “Listen,” he said. His tone got serious and his voice lowered. “There’s some Special Grade curses on the loose. Yuji and I ran into them a few nights ago. Keep a look out for them..”

“You didn’t exorcise them?” you asked.

“We ran into a few problems and they got away,”he answered. “Let me know if you see them cause any trouble.”

“Will do.”

+++

Gojo remembers the first time he dined with you. He would like to say that it was a planned event, but it wasn’t. He was uninvited; you never intended for him to join you. In fact, you had been dreading his presence when he arrived.

It was in a bakery. Nanami had recommended the place for leisure time; time that he did not have himself. It was small and friendly. You sat in the corner siping your tea as you read reports. Even while doing work, this place had an atmosphere that could calm you. That calmness was only temporary.

“Hey, doc,”

The falsely blinded man slid into the seat across from you; white bandages wrapped around his eyes, drink in hand. You looked up from your reading and managed the stapled papers. You slid them to the side and placed your cup down. You finally looked up at him as you crossed your legs and leaned forward in your elbows.

“Mr. Gojo, it’s incredibly rude to interrupt someone’s free time.”

The man smiled. “Free time?” he questioned. “This doesn't look like ‘free time’.”

“I guess we have different definitions then.”

He laughed.as he took the straw of his drink and moved it around the cup. “So? Have you changed your mind?”

It was funny actually. How he thought Shoko would try to convince you. “You don’t have to do it,” she said, cigarette in hand. “And I’m not going to try to change your mind.” You weren’t going to change your mind. You were fine as is. your days at the hospital were fine, you liked it there. Adding another responsibility would be troublesome.

“I’m sorry Mr. Gojo, but i’m still going to have to decline.”

‘Decline’. Even when declining something, your words came off professionally. Your professionalism was something that he admired for some reason. Perhaps that’s why he liked Nanami. He had professionalism. You both had it. Something that he couldn’t care less about having himself. Maybe he wanted that professionalism to be shown to his students.

The man hummed to himself and continued to look down at his drink. “Shoko didn’t even try, did she?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile.

He sighed as he shook his head. “You would be a great teacher though,” he said with raised eyebrows. “The students would love you!” He looked up at you and put his hand out; as if it were an offering. As if you would take hold of it and agree to his bid. “Megumi already does!” he exclaimed. “The other sorcerers would like you too, because of your connection with Shoko.”

Gojo put up his finger. “And you’re strong too.”

All you did was look at him for a few seconds and returned to drink your tea. He had given up when you didn’t respond. He resulted into sitting in silence and finishing his drink just as you finished yours. The silence carried on for minutes at a time. Sounds of others talking and purchases being made filled the store. It was only then did you speak again.

“Is it scary?”

Gojo raised his eyebrows. At first he thought you were referring to being a sorcerer, but he quickly flung that horrendous idea out the window. “What?” he asked.

You took another sip of your tea. You quickly licked your lips after, preparing to speak.

“Is it scary being the strongest?”

Gojo furrowed his eyebrows as he smiled. A loud scoff came from him. “Pfft, why would I be scared?” He took another sip out of his drink and faced you. “I’m the strongest,” he said as he raised his eyebrows and pointed to himself nonchalantly.

“Because…” you said as you looked up at him. You tapped the side of your cup gently with the back of your nail.

“When you’re the strongest, there’s still no guarantee that you can save those you care about.”

He was glad to have no way for you to see his eyes. But boy, did he feel like you were burning right through these bandages. He felt himself turn pale. He hoped you didn’t notice, but you did. You noticed the blood rush out of his face, the subtle uneasiness he got, the slight difference in his demeanor.

You looked back down at your drink. “At the end of the day we are only human, Mr. Gojo.” You tapped the cup a few more times. “We have flaws, we make mistakes, we slip up.” You swirled the remaining liquid in your cup. “I may have the experience, but there are times where not even I can change the fate of my patients.”

“So I’d like to know, is it just as scary?”

Chapter Text

He was exhausted. Sweat found its place on the temple of his head. He tried to catch his breath; gasping for the cool air in the open room. His lungs were burning and so were his muscles. Both of his hands rested on the floor in front of him; his head down as he shut his eyes and quickly opened them. There was a knot in his stomach where the blows had been given to him. He twisted his body to look ahead.

“Get up, Yuji.”

The boy grunted as he slowly tried to lift himself up from the ground. He stood up with furrowed brows and ran his fingers through his pink hair. He raised his sleeve to his mouth, and quickly wiped away the sweat that accumulated on his upper lip. He flung his hand down to his side.

“I told you already!” he cursed as he gasped for air. “I don’t hit girls.”

“Y’know,” you began. “You really are a sweet boy, Yuji.” That was the truth. He was a genuinely sincere guy. You could tell just from the first time you saw him. It killed a part of you for having to do this to him.

“If this were any other situation-” You walked forward towards him as you shook your wrist out. “I would commend you for being so compassionate.” You grabbed the boy’s shoulder and pulled him towards you. You clenched your fist and struck his stomach.

He flew back a few feet and landed on his back. A loud groan escaped from his lips. He curled into himself and clutched his abdomen.

You walked to him once again. “Curses don’t care if you’re a boy or a girl, Yuji.” You grabbed his arm and lifted him up off the ground to your height. His face was tilted down and his mouth hung open, but he still managed to look you in the eye. His other arm dangled to the side of him. His legs barely holding himself up.

“They don’t care about who you love or who you want to protect.” You took your fist and struck another blow to his abdomen. He groaned louder than the last time. He closed his eyes but quickly opened them again, looking for the next punch.

There wasn’t another one.

You plopped him back on the floor. You stood over him and looked down at the jumbled mess he was. “That’s why you need to be selfish.” You walked away to the other side of the room

Yuji slowly back-crawled to the wall. He propped himself up and rested his head on the wall as he grabbed his stomach.

You grabbed a water bottle from the floor and walked back to him. You sat down and criss crossed your legs as you handed him the bottle. He was hesitant; he looked at the bottle confusingly. You shook the bottle of water slightly in front of him. He finally took the water from your hand and chugged down gulps at a time.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stretched out your legs.

Yuji stopped drinking and looked at you bug-eyed. He removed the bottle from his lips. “Well it’s a little too late for that!” he shouted.

You tried to cover it up with your hand but it didn’t help; you laughed as you turned away from the boy.

“I mean seriously…” he started as he took a few more gulps of water. “Who the hell meets someone and immediately beats them up!?”

You chuckled to yourself. What an interesting personality this one had.

“Well, Yuji,” you began. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand. “You’re a bit too nice. We need to change that before something bad happens.”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “But, being nice is a good thing though...right?”

You smiled again at the innocent boy. “Being nice is a great trait to have.” You sighed. “But we can’t have you being too nice when you’re a Sorcerer.”

The boy frowned as he looked down at his water bottle. “But you seem to be a nice person and you’re a Sorcerer.”

A small smile formed on your face. “I’m glad that you think so.”

Yuji screwed the bottle cap back on the water bottle and placed it beside him. “Well besides the beating my ass part.” he said as he smiled.

You nodded to yourself. Fair enough.

“Hey, I expect you to fight back tomorrow.” you said as you both stood up. “I’ll bring something special If you do.”

“Whoa, really? Like food?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Yea, maybe something like that.” you said as you headed for the door. Yuji followed.

There was silence as you both walked down the hallway to his temporary room; until he spoke.

Yuji called your name. You hummed in response as you looked over your shoulder at him.

“How long do you think it’ll be before I can go back?” Yuji took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the lock screen.

You knew he was probably lonely, cooped up in here all day. All Gojo gave him to entertain himself was some B-rated movies with shitty acting. Besides that his only options were his phone and the creepy ass doll from Yaga. Hell, you didn’t know when was the last time he had a proper meal. All that bastard brought him was junk food from the convenience store every day. It was brought to your attention by the pile of stray wrappers and chip bags piled up in the trash can.

“I know it’s hard, but you can’t text them. It would be too much of a risk.”

He sighed as he glanced at his phone once more and put it back in his pocket.

“You’ll be back by the Exchange Event. I’m sure both Fushiguro and Kugisaki will be excited to see you.”

He smiled as he followed behind you.

“Yea, I hope they will be.”

Three soft knocks.

Megumi froze at the sudden noise. It was midnight. No one was supposed to be roaming around this late or be awake. But yet here you two were.

“Hi, Megumi.”

Your voice was calm and easy. The boy froze as he looked at you in his doorframe. You held a flimsy bag in hand. You wanted to make one final stop before you clocked out for the night. Word had spread to you that Principal Gakuganji had decided to pay a visit to talk about the Exchange Event. It wasn’t unexpected of him of course - it was routine for the Principals of Tokyo and Kyoto to rendezvous with each other to discuss the details of the event. What piqued your interest was that a few of his students decided to join him on his trip.

“Uh- hi.” he managed to whisper out. He tilted his head down. Only small bits of flight coming from the window in the hallway illuminated his face.

You raised the bag up so he could see it. “May I come in?” A few cans of soda showed through the transparent bag.

He raised his head slightly to look at the bag. He rubbed the back side of his neck. “Yea, sure,” he said as he quickly lowered back down and started to walk back into his room. Just as he was about to take his first step, he felt a weight on his shoulder.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You spun him back around with your free hand and made him face you. You grabbed a hold of his chin and raised his head to look directly at you. Quickly taking your other hand, you removed the hair that covered his forehead. There it was. A scar across the left side of his forehead. You looked at it for a few seconds before looking back at him in the eye.

“Hiding something from me?”

Megumi’s eyebrows cocked. His eyes widening from your stare. “How did y-“

“You’re limping and not making eye contact.” You let go of your grasp on him. His head bobbed back down to its original state.

“You don’t need to worry about it,” he said as he rubbed his chin.

“It’s my job to worry about others' health.” You handed him the bag of goods and stepped inside his room. It was clean as usual. “I can talk to him.” you said as you sat at his desk.

Megumi sat down on his bed and put his elbows on his knees. “That depends, what is your idea of a talk?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed as you crossed your legs. You put your finger on your chin and tapped it a few times as if you were contemplating. “Maybe do something at the Exchange Event?” you asked as you raised your eyebrows. Except, you weren’t asking.

“No.”

You smiled to yourself at his quick response.

“That’s not necessary.” he said as he sighed out. “Plus if a teacher did that I’m sure that would make our school have to forfeit.”

You laughed a little bit at Megumi’s rationality. You couldn’t hold a grudge against Todo. He was an exceptional student. His drive to be a successful Sorcerer was surely there. That being said; beating his ass was always still an option. It seemed like a good one at that.

“I could do it before the Excha-“

“No.”

“After?”

“No.”

“What about just a normal chat? No violence invol-“

“No.”

You chuckled at the repetition of his words. “Whatever you say,” You stood up and walked towards the door. Before reaching for the doorknob you turned around to face the teen that sat on the bed.

“I’m sorry about Yuji.”

The blood in his face drained out as he looked at you. He tilted his head down and clasped his hands together. “It’s alright, it’s not the first time, anyway.” You could tell he was holding his breath as he spoke.

You looked down and reached for the doorknob. “Promise to take care of yourself, Megumi.”

A small smile formed on his lips. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

“She’s a Sorcerer.”

Gojo’s eyebrows raised. He had thought that it would be just a random physician- a normal person, with a normal occupation. But Shoko’s words had made a fool out of his thoughts. It was intriguing, maybe he wondered how it was to manage both of those aspects of life. It was unexpected to say the least.

Shoko leaned back in the tall seat. The shine of the yellow light placed itself on her face. She took another sip of her drink and placed it down on the bar. “She’s out of the loop when it comes to Sorcerer affairs though.”

“Out of loop… so like Nanami?” he questioned. Of course the Sorcerers at Tokyo and Kyoto Technical College weren’t the only ones in Japan. There were freelancers. Ones that were commissioned based on their own abilities. Not everyone was involved with the Jujutsu world as much as the Colleges. No one could blame them either. With the influence of the three major clans, no wonder others didn’t want to get involved.

“Yea, like that,” she said after taking another sip of her drink. The smell of alcohol trailed with her words. She sighed as she leaned her body over the bar. “I still can’t believe after all these years you haven’t once taken him to a doctor.”

Gojo leaned back and scoffed. “Well you could’ve done one of your little check ups on him. How was I supposed to know?”

“I would have! I didn’t know you hadn't taken him to get a physical in five years!” Shoko sighed again. “She knows you’re coming tomorrow. I already warned her about you.”

The blindfolded man slid closer to her. “Ah c’mon Shoko.” He took her drink and slid it closer to himself. Shoko lazyly looked up at the man as she tried to reach for it back. A sly smirk grew in his face.

“There’s nothing to warn her about.”

Here he was. This was him? This was the guy? No it couldn’t. It couldn’t possibly be him. This was the guy Shoko had warned you about? When she called she sounded so serious about the whole situation. You had honestly thought what she had said was a joke. Perhaps a way to make him look bad. A playful gesture between ‘old friends’. There was no way that the man before you could be so ignorant. How was this even possible? How could someone be so oblivious? How could someone have so much self absorbency, that they didn’t even take the time to-

Denial.

This was him alright. This was the guy. This was the man that completely neglected a child’s needs. The man that didn’t take time to worry about the child that was in his care. Was it because of selfishness? Was this man so selfish that he didn’t even take the time to worry about the well-being of this child? Was it just because he didn’t care? For fucks sake; this god damned fucker here didn’t even worry about it for two years. Two whole fucking-

Anger.

It’s been two years. Almost equivalent to one-fourth of his life. What if the kid had been neglected of other necessities for two years? Was he being fed properly? Was he active enough? Was he being abused? Surely if that were the case, the school would have gotten involved. So that couldn’t be the case. My god. What if he hasn’t been going to school? This madman was his only source of seeking knowledge? What if the child was severely sick? What if it was too late? What if you couldn’t save him? What if-

Depression.

No. Shoko would have known if anything traumatic had happened. She would have told you if anything was severely wrong with the kid. Maybe this man was truly oblivious. Perhaps he didn’t know any better. “A lost cause.” is how Shoko described him to you. Yes, that was it. He was just a lost cause. Someone that didn’t know any better. It was odd of course. The man looked to be about in his twenties. To be that ‘lost’ at such a mature age was alarming. But if Shoko had said it then it must be-

Bargaining.

You looked down at the stapled papers before you. The lack of printed letters on the pages irked you. You stared at the pages for a few seconds before speaking. Was this really real? The chart that you stared at for 5 minutes in the hallway actually existed. It wasn’t a hypothetical situation your superiors would throw at you while you were still doing your residency. No one would even think of this to be a situation that could happen.

You sighed as you flipped to the next page. Your brows furrowed in astonishment. “Well, Mr. Gojo,” you started as you sat down at the computer. “You’re honestly very lucky that Fushiguro here has no pre-existing conditions.” You logged into the computer and started to click away. “He’s been tested for disorders and they’ve all come back negative. His last record of any physicals or vaccines were in 2009.” You sighed as you started typing on the keyboard. “He’ll have to get caught up on a lot of shots. He’s going into the seventh grade so the Meningitis vaccine will be the first on our list. But we’ll have to spread out the vaccines over the course of about a month, just because of the amount he’s missed. Giving him all of them at once will be overbearing on his body. You should be grateful that Ieiri gives out the Flu vaccine every year at the school.”

The little boy sat on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath him as his feet dangled off. He was quiet and patient. To you he looked a bit bored with the whole thing, but he was attentive; listening to all the words you said as if he were concerned himself.

“That being said, he doesn’t have a virtual health chart whatsoever. So we should set that up rig-“

“How long have you known Shoko?” The question came from the corner of the room. The man sat in a chair beside the examination table. It was out of the blue, but you continued to click away at the computer.

“About three years.” you stated plainly. You heard a slight hum from him. You understood that he might want to know you a bit better, but the interruption was rude nonetheless. Especially when such important matters were at hand.
He sounded so nonchalant about the situation.

You stepped up from the computer and rolled your chair back in. You went to the wall and puffed a few squirts of hand sanitizer in your hand. “His virtual health chart has been set up, a receptionist up front will give you a packet with more information about it,” you said as you scrubbed your hands and walked over to the exam table.

“Alright Fushiguro, I’m going to need you to lay down for me,” you said with a small smile. He compiled without a word. You started to palpate the left of his abdomen. For someone that hadn’t been to a doctor in over five years, he was doing surprisingly well.

You could feel the masked stares of the man in front of you. “Just feeling for his spleen.” you said as you continued to palpate. He raised his brows in acknowledgement, but you could still feel his eyes on you. His chin rested in his hand and his elbow on the arm of the chair. He tilted his head before speaking.

“Do you know me?”

Oh, how your face wanted to crinkle into confusion. You instead raised your eyebrows and chuckled. “I believe this is our first time meeting, Mr. Gojo,” you said as you rotated Fushiguro’s hip.

He removed his hand from his chin. “Well yea, obviously,” he said as he flung his hand into the air. “Shoko said you’re a Sorcerer, right?”

“That I am,” you said as you reached for the otoscope on the wall. “Just going to check your ears real quick,” you whispered to the preteen.

“So you’re a Sorcerer.” he started. He cocked his eyebrows and pointed to you. “And you don’t know who I am?”

You shined the light into Fushiguro’s mouth. “Am I supposed to?” There was silence for a few seconds. Laughter filled the room. The man put his hands together in front of his face.

“Did Shoko say anything about me?”

You heard the boy on the table scoff. You cocked your brow as you smiled. “Do you want to know what she really said?” The man nodded his head quickly like a puppy. “Squeeze my fingers for me.” you said as you put both sets of your middle and index finger out to the kid.

“She said that you’re an ignorant a-hole.”

“Ouch.” He said as he smiled and tilted his head back. You tapped Fushiguro’s knees to check his reflexes. You had to admit it was fun messing with this cocky man’s ego. His reactions were priceless. “If it makes it any better, she also said you were freaky strong.”

“Ahh, leaving the last part out, I see,” he said with a smirk.

You looked up from Fushiguro and turned to the man. “You’re a part of the Gojo Clan, holder of six eyes…”

The man's smirk grew. “Bingo.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Gojo.” You said as you pulled out your stethoscope. “Shoko has said a lot about you, both the good and the bad.”

“Oooh, the bad you say?”

“Deep breaths,” you said as you moved your stethoscope around the boy's back. “Yes, the bad. Don’t worry it wasn’t too upsetting.” Gojo leaned on the arm of the chair as he rested his cheek in his hand.

You put your stethoscope back on your neck and sat back in the rolling chair. “Well, Mr. Gojo-“

“Satoru is fine.”

What was up with him and interruptions? You sat there in silence as you looked at him in confusion.

“We’re all friends here, right doc?” he asked with a smile. “Shoko likes you, so should I. Plus formalities are so aggravating, No need to be so formal just because of my name.”

So Shoko was right. All her words about this man were correct. You crossed your legs and put your hands on your knee. “Well, Mr. Gojo,” you started. You made sure to pronounce every syllable of his name out of spite. “I don’t call you by your last name out of respect for you.” His smile dropped into an almost unrecognizable face. Absolutely priceless. “I barely know you, but I do say it because it’s the right thing. Especially when you are the guardian of a patient of mine.”

You reached for a card in your chest pocket. “I suggest not feeling too special.” You handed him the card. He took it from your hand and looked down at it. There printed on the card was your name number and email.

“Of course, I only tell you this out of friendship, Mr. Gojo.”

He smiled at the card and fiddled with it with his hands.

You sighed and furrowed your eyebrows in a reluctant manner. “Shoko likes you, so should I.”

—————

“Why are you here?”

Gojo’s face saddened as he pouted. “What a horrible greeting to give,” he said as he walked to the desk. “That’s no way to treat someone that brings you lunch, you know?”

“Who let you in?” you asked in confusion.

“You have a new receptionist,” he said with a grin. “Ahni is very nice, he likes to go to Akihabara with his two sisters once a month and enjoys strawberry mexican popsicles.”

You sighed to yourself. You had forgotten about the new boy. He was sweet and kind, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.

“I looked for you at the hospital, you weren’t there,” he said as he plopped the food in front of you.

“You should be glad I wasn’t. They wouldn’t let you in at the hospital.” Most of the time you could be found at the clinic. You were only ever called into the hospital when patients you've been with for years showed up. Otherwise the clinic was the better option. The abundance of curses was straining in the hospital. The stench of death and fear lurked there. You rarely dealt with death, but you could smell it all the way from the Emergency Room. The crawling curses found their way up the floors no matter what.

Gojo sat in the chair across from you as he crossed his legs. He slid a smoothie to you.

“Raspberry and kale?” you asked.

“Strawberry and kale.”

You sighed as you reached for the cup. Hopefully the strawberry would drown out the taste of the kale this time. Gojo sat down and started to tap away on his phone. You reached inside of the bag; there was a small box of sushi.

“Tuna,” he said as he continued to glance down at his phone. “High in iron, right?”

You nodded as you took a roll out from the container.

Satoru Gojo; a self absorbent, cocky, insolent, egotistical, ignorant asshole. But sometimes, he wasn’t half bad.

Acceptance.

Chapter Text

You sat criss crossed on the floor; one hand at the back of you, supporting your weight. Your other hand relaxed on your knee as you patiently waited. The boy in front of you squinted at his hand as he filtered through his cards. He was concentrating, carefully looking through his hand. You swear you could see the sweat on his forehead. His brows furrowed up as he slowly reached for a card, but then quickly removed his hand and shook his head. He pressed his lips together and steadily reached for a different card. He raised an eyebrow and put the card down into the pile as he sighed.

You reached over and swiftly put down a card into the pile, not thinking twice about it. The pink-haired boy’s mouth flung open as if he were about to protest. He quickly closed it and gave you a side-eye. You raised your eyebrows with a smirk plastered on your face. He slowly picked up four cards and added them to his collection. He exaggerated his movements as he glared at you. He slowly placed one card into the pile as he pouted. His fate was already sealed.

You quickly placed one card down into the pile. “Uno.” You then placed another on top. “Uno out,” you called out with a grin.

“Ughhhh,” Yuji groaned out. He flung his ensemble of cards to the ground. “How!?” he fumed. You smiled as you began to grab the cards and shuffle them.

“Next round we’re doing trains and doubles.” he demanded. He reached for the bowl that sat next to him and quickly stuffed the pasta in his mouth.

“Alright, alright. Trains and doubles this round,” you said as you placed the two newly shuffled piles down.

“I don’t get it!” he cursed. “How are you beating me everytime?”

You smiled as you started to hand out the cards. “I sometimes play with the kids at the hospital.” When children on your floor were admitted for long periods of time, you would occasionally pay them a visit to play a few games. Time was scarce, but you found it when it was needed. The children on your floor got enough bad news from you already. You knew they dreaded when you walked into their rooms bringing in papers and documents to discuss with their parents. Your goal was a change of attitude when you walked in with board games and card games for them to play. It seemed like it worked a majority of the time.

“Ah,” Yuji said as he took another mouthful of pasta. Alfredo sauce stained the corner of his lips. “Right, Gojo-sensei said you’re a doctor.” You nodded in response as you handed out the rest of the cards. “What kind of doctor?”

“I’m a Pediatrician,” you said. You picked up your cards and started to sort them.

Yuji stared at you. He squinted his eyes as he took a small piece of chicken and ate it. “Pe… peed- a- peeda-“ he stammered.

“I’m a doctor for kids, Yuji.”

“Ohhh!” he laughed out as he put his bowl back down beside him. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place!?” He grabbed his cards from the ground and began to look through them. “So like...kid, kids? Like toddlers?” he asked as he put down two blue cards.

“As long as they are under eighteen, then I can work with them.” you said. You put down a card and started to question your move. Yuji Began to look through his options. His cards covered all of his face except his eyes. “But-“ you followed. “I specialize in Hematology and Oncology.”

The pink-haired boy slowly looked up from his cards. His eyes landed on yours as he cocked an eyebrow. He sat there in silence for a few seconds as he eyed you.

“...hema...hemato- oncolo- onco-”

“Blood disorders, Yuji.”

“Ahh!” He sang out. My god, what the hell were they teaching these kids at Tokyo? “Again, could’ve just said that in the first place,” he blurted out with a bright smile. He put down another blue card and waited for your move.

You smiled. His obliviousness made him more enjoyable to train with. Even if the so-called training was just you beating him at Uno for now.

Your phone lit up as the ringtone went off. The familiar name popped up on the screen. You excused yourself from the game. Yuji noded in response as he pulled out his phone. As you stood up your head started to spin. You were tired, your mission in San Lorenzo took a toll on you. Not to mention the jetlag didn't seem to help you either. You walked to the hallway and answered the call.

“Having fun babysitting?” The voice taunted. You sighed and shifted your phone closer to your ear. “Hello to you too, Gojo.”

You felt his shit-eating grin through the phone. “Oh c’mon, sweets. You can at least answer my question if you’re going to be so distant with me.”

You paced a bit further down the hallway as you held yourself with one arm. There was his signature pet name. From time to time he would just add it into normal sentences just to piss you off a bit. And most of the time he succeeded.

You sighed before you spoke. “I guess if you could call it babysitting…” You looked back at Yuji in the room. He attentively watched his phone as he stuffed his face with the chicken and broccoli alfredo pasta you made for him. His big bright eyes glossing over the screen as he watched. You smiled softly at the boy and turned back around to the hallway. “Then it’s going pretty well.”

“Happy with my answer?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.

Gojo smiled through the phone. “As a clam.”

You crossed your ankles and leaned your head back on the wall. “He learns pretty fast and is amazing at close combat when he can actually land a punch or two.” You turned to look at the boy again. He sat on the floor wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he placed the bowl down back on the ground. Babysitting wasn’t necessarily the word to describe your training with Yuji. He was respectful, attentive and followed directions well. He was even fun to hang around with. His snarky remarks made you laugh at times. It made you feel uneasy when you thought about the sweet boy’s eventual fate.

“I think in a couple of days we could throw some cursed energy into his training,” you said while turning back around.

“No need.” His words were nonchalant; like there wasn’t one care in the world.

“Wait- what?”

“No need,” he repeated. “You’re babysitting has come to an end, doc”

You cocked an eyebrow and walked further down the hallway. “What do you mean?” He smiled at your confusion. “Nanami took up my offer,” he rejoiced. “He’ll be able to train Yuji until the Exchange Event.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. It certainly didn’t sound like Nanami to do such a thing. His mind was straightforward to his plans. He never seemed to deviate from his course of action. And to accept an offer from Gojo? You scoffed at the thought. With Nanami’s disliking for the man? It was clearly an out of reach topic. “How the hell did you manage to do that?” you questioned.

You heard Gojo laugh through the line. “Maybe a little bit of bribing was necessary,” he chuckled.

Made sense.

You adjusted yourself on the wall. Draping your thin jacket closer around you. “Well, I wouldn’t have minded if I continued to train him.”

“I know,” he said flatly. “You should catch up on some sleep for a few days, you sound tired.” Your eyes widened at his words. Of course the things in your voice you don’t want him to pick up on, he did . You were about to speak but were soon interrupted by Gojo’s uppity tone. “I’ll bring over some take-out when you get home.”

“No need, I cooked already.”

You felt him frowning through the phone. “Can I have the leftovers?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“They’re Yuji’s”

Gojo hummed to himself. “ You seem to take a liking to this one too, huh?” he asked as he smirked. You looked back down the hallway into the room. There Yuji was, laying down on his back, phone above his face as he quickly tapped at the screen. Perhaps playing a game you thought to yourself. He stuck out his tongue slightly, his eyebrows curved downward as he concentrated on the screen. You smiled to yourself softly.

“You know I always do.”

The five students sat on the steps. The green-haired girl took off her glasses and rubbed the lenses with her tracksuit before grabbing another rice ball from the container beside Inumaki. He sat on the step above her, beside Panda as they both chowed down on the leftovers from last night.

Nobara groaned out before she spoke. “So hot,” she dragged out. She sat lazily on the steps to the right of Maki, rice ball in hand.

“Stop complaining.” Megumi grumbled from the right of her. “Be glad it’s not later in the year.”

“Yea,” chimed in Panda. “At least you’re not covered in fur,” he grogged out.

“Ughh, fineee.” Nobara whined, before taking another bite of her rice ball. Her orangey-brown hair stuck to her face with her sweat. Everyone sat in silence. The heat being too much to bare to speak to one another.

“Tuna-mayo!”

Inumaki’s words caught everyone’s attention. They turned their heads to look at him. “Tuna-mayo!” he exclaimed again. He pointed to two figures in the distance. Everyone's daze from the heat had stopped them from noticing you and Gojo talking to each other by the tall trees.

Nobara squinted her eyes to look at you two, her hand above her forehead to block out the sun. “Great.” Nobara said with a scowl. “Another person from Kyoto. I wonder if the teachers are as bitchy as the students?”

Maki knocked her polearm on Nobara’s head. Nobara winced at the pain as she rubbed her head. “Ow!” she said under her breath.

“Don’t be so dense,” Maki barked as she took her weapon in her other hand and laid back on the steps. “ She works here, idiot.”

“That’s Doctor [L/N].” Nobara turned her head to look at Megumi. “She works here as a teacher.” Megumi sat with his hands between his legs as he held a rice ball in hand. “She’s a Pediatrician.”

Nobara removed her hand from her head. Her eyebrows raised. “Ohh,” she said as she took a bite from her rice ball. Megumi glanced at her from the side. “A Pediatrician is someone who-“

“I know what a Pediatrician is!” she shouted as she turned to him. “I’m not some damn halfwit, Fushiguro.” she scolded him.

“Just making sure,” he said while tiredly rolling his eyes.

“She’s also a specialist,” Panda added in.

Nobara looked up at him on the step above her. “Specialist? What do you mean?” she questioned.

“She specialized in Hematology and Oncology,” answered Panda. Nobara sat there in silence for a few seconds.

“...hema...hemato- oncolo- onco-”

“Blood disorders.” Megumi finally blurred out.

“Ahh!” Nobara dragged out. “I knew that,” she said as she crossed her arms and took another bite from her food. “Why does a doctor work here anyway?”

“She helps out Shoko,” Megumi replied. “Shoko doesn’t know a lot about children’s bodies. So Doctor [L/N] steps in for her when we get hurt.”

“She also doubles as the human biology teacher,” Panda added. “Too bad she knows nothing about pandas,” he frowned.

Nobara cocked her head to the side as she looked back at the two of you talking. “Well then, how does Gojo know her?” Megumi turned his head to the side and looked down. He nuzzled his face into the neck of his jacket. Faint pinks and reds sprouted on his cheeks.

Maki slyly smiled. “Ah c’mon, Megumi.” She tilted her head back to look around Nobara’s body. “Don’t get all shy now.” Nobara’s head flipped between the two a few times. Finally she turned to the boy. “Don’t try to avoid me, Fushiguro! Answer the question!” she shouted. She leaned on his back and grabbed his shoulders, trying to make him face her. Both Panda and Inumaki chuckled.

Megumi slowly turned to face her. He still tried to avoid eye contact. “She’s been my Pediatrician since I was eight.” He cursed himself mentally for allowing Kugisaki to have another bullying advantage over him.

Nobara put her hand over her mouth “Aww little Fushiguro’s had her all throughout middle school, huh?” she mocked. “I wonder if you were this lifeless back then too.”

Megumi returned back to looking at you both. “In all seriousness, she helped me out a lot. Gojo didn’t know a thing about maintaining our health before he met her.” Megumi toyed with his food in his hands. “She sort of directed him to the right path.”

“Wait,” Nobara’s eyebrows frowned. “Why didn’t Shoko just help out?”

Maki rolled her eyes. “Shoko had a bit too much faith in him,” she groaned out. “The man is just insane.”

“Huh,” Nobara huffed out. “Well, she is really pretty.” Everyone turned to look at you still talking to Gojo in the distance. Megumi was the first to answer.

“Yea.”

“Yea.”

“Yup.”

“Salmon.”

The five students stared at you once again. This time catching you pulling on their teacher’s ear as you yelled something at him. Nobara crossed her legs. “I like her,” she said with a big grin on her face.

“That’s impossible,” Maki responded. “You barely even know her.”

“And you just hated her just ten minutes ago,” Panda said.

Nobara turned to look at the two. “That was only because I thought she worked at Kyoto!” she huffed out. She returned her gaze to look at you. “Plus she just harassed Gojo. I like that,” she said with a smirk.

Nobara froze and turned towards Megumi, clear distress on her face. “Don’t tell me,” she cried out. Her eyes filled with sorrow and a hint of anger as she stared at Megumi. “Are they...dating!?”

“No.” Megumi was quick to answer. The thought of that even being a possibility seemed to make his stomach churn. It was simple what he thought. You were too good for him. Not only that, but you were too good to him. He could only wonder what happened for you to get so accustomed to Gojo. The frustration he had for the man was clear. Most people couldn’t put up with him for longer than a year. Megumi didn’t disregard the fact that you did grow frustrated with Gojo at times, but that frustration never seemed to stay for long.

“Whew!” Nobara exclaimed in relief as she swiped a few strands of her hair away from her face. “I’d rather put a bullet in my own head, than know that asshole got a girlfriend before I could find someone.”

“Nah,” Maki grinned. “She’s too smart to do something like that.” The students turned their heads to look at you once more. This time you weren’t harassing nor yelling at the blindfolded man. Instead it seemed you were listening to him speak. Your arms crossed as you looked at him, mindfully listening to him talk. Maki tilted her head to the side as she still looked at you along with the others.

“At least I think she is.”

Chapter Text

Burning. Your whole body seemed to feel like it was burning. The hot sensations spread on your tongue like wildfire. You took your hand and wiped the sweat from the bridge of your nose and placed it back on the edge of the bar; you were sweating bullets. Your mouth hung open slightly as your cheeks heated up more. You looked over to your left, the fair-skinned man could no longer be described as such. His face was stained red. He was hunched over and his elbows sat on the bar as he loosely held his chopsticks up from the large bowl. His head hung down and his mouth was agape as he gasped for air. He sighed out as he sat up a little, removing his dark square glasses from his face and setting them on the counter. You swear you could see tears in his eyes.

“You don’t look too good, Satoru,” you grinned with the strength you had left.

The man raised his eyebrows and glanced at you from the side; his bright irises glossing over you before landing on your face. Slowly, a shrewd smile formed on his face. “Satoru? Am I finally growing on you, doc?” he asked slyly.

You glared at him as you wiped a few stray locks of hair out of your face. Your expression made his grin grow wider. “Don’t get too flattered, pretty boy,” you jeered as you gasped for more air.

“Whoa ho!” he breathed out. “You think I’m pretty?” His chest raised up and down as he moved his middle and index finger to the temple of his head. “Wow, calling me by my first name and a compliment? I think we’re going a little too fast here. At least take me out to dinner first,” he teased with a smile.

“You talk a lot for someone who can’t swig down a shot.” you snapped. You two only had to drink the broth. That was it. That was all that was left. You looked down at the huge bowl below you. Your vision was a bit blurry from the tears forming in your eyes.

Gojo turned to you once more, a devious smile plastered on his face before he took his soup spoon and quickly started slurping the broth up. You scoffed before doing the same.

Ramen broth splattered with every dip and lift of your spoons. You glanced over to his bowl while still taking in spoonfuls of the spicy liquid. He was ahead of you. Even so, he still looked exhausted from the heat of it all.

You furrowed your eyebrows and clanked the spoon down into the bowl. The sound caught Gojo’s attention as he continued to slurp up the broth quickly from his spoon. You lifted up the bowl to your mouth and quickly downed the fluid. It started to burn as it went down your throat

Gojo glanced at you once again and coughed- his dry throat making a wheezing sound. He stopped mid movement and slowly put down his spoon as he looked at you in amazement.

“Holy shit.”

You gulped down the remnants of the broth and slammed the bowl on the table.

“Man,” Gojo said with a cough. His breathing was heavy and he gasped for air through his mouth. “You really are desperate, huh?” he asked as he pushed his bowl away from him. You nodded in response. You hunched over on the bar and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

Gojo dragged his hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. You unbuttoned a few buttons on your dress shirt and flapped the loose fabric up and down.

“It seems we have a winner.”

Shoko stepped in between the two of you. She sat down two glasses of milk on the counter. Both you and Gojo quickly grabbed your glasses and gulped down the milk in a matter of seconds as Shoko watched in bewilderment.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Heavy breaths filled the air. You thought you were going to be sick. Not from the pace of your eating or the sensation on your tongue, but from the clash between the spices of the ramen and your perfume. It created such an odd odor.

Gojo was the first to speak. “So, have you changed your mind?”

You turned around to face him and leaned an arm back on the countertop. Your eyes were droopy and both you and Gojo continued to huff. You finally sighed out and closed your eyes. “Are you saying I won this bet, just for you not to keep your promise?”

You didn’t necessarily feel anger. More like disappointment. You were disappointed in yourself for believing that Gojo would actually keep his word. The white-haired man was just about to respond, before a voice spoke first.

“Stop pestering her.”

You and Gojo turned around and followed Shoko’s movements as she walked to the door of the small restaurant. Gojo sighed out as he rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to convince her with me!” he grumbled.

“I’d rather not,” she answered while shuffling up her jacket on her shoulders.

“Where are you going?” you asked. It was a flimsy question that you just threw out there. You already knew the answer.

“Smoke.” Shoko swiftly left the building. The jingle of the bells on top of the door making a melody as the door opened and closed.

You and Gojo turned around to face the bar. He lifted his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. A young woman walked out from the kitchen door and headed your way. She sweetly smiled at you both before taking the bowls back to the kitchen.

Your breathing seemed to calm down and so did Gojo’s. The milk seemed to have eased the pain of your tongue. You both sat in silence for a few moments. The yellow light that came from the ceiling reflected off of the marble bar. The light hit the white-haired man's face, exaggerating his sharp features.

“Why won’t you do it?”

You were snapped out of your daze. You stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking of an answer. You looked down and smiled softly. “I’m content with where I am in life at the moment.” It was true. You were happy with where you were. You were comfortable with the amount of responsibilities you had. And those said responsibilities were more than the average person.

“Ugh,” the man scoffed. “Lame.”

You raised your eyebrows and lifted your head at his bold words. “Lame?” you questioned. “How so?”

“It’s just lame. There’s no…” The man swayed his head and hands as he tried to look for his words. “...excitement,” he said as he turned to face you completely.

“We just did a Fire Noodle Challenge, that’s exciting,” you said as you pointed to the menu above the bar.

“You need more,” he said with a grin.

You sighed out and began to button back up the top buttons of your dress shirt. You rolled your eyes. “Being acquainted with you is already enough excitement, Mr Gojo.”

The man started to laugh as he put his glasses back on “It’s been a some years, hasn't it?” he asked. He turned to face you and rested his cheek in his hand with his elbow on the counter. His glasses shifted a bit down his nose. Just far enough for you to see his eyes.“So, when are you going to stop being so formal with me?”

You sighed inward and smiled. “If you stopped nagging me about teaching at that little school of yours, maybe I’d consider it”

Gojo chuckled to himself. “So, never.”

“Bingo,” you sang with a tune as you shook your finger in the air. You turned to the bar and rested your elbows on the table, as did he. “I can't deny that you look desperate. I don't know why you need me to do it anyways.”

Gojo hummed as he tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s more like a need and a want.” You glanced at him from the side. Your silence was enough for him to continue.

“You’re pretty strong, doc.” His voice was low and serious. He raised a finger in the air. “That’s what the public needs.” He rested his arm back on the table. “But you're also level-headed, a good role model for them.” A smile started to form across his face and his eyes became softer. “And that’s what I want.”

He turned to look at you, his previously soft smile turning into a more devious one. “And that’s what I’ll get,” he assured with a grin.

You broke your gaze from him and rolled your eyes. “You sound so sure that my decision will change,” you said with a smirk.

“Yet,” he started with a grin. “You sound sure that it won’t change.” He leaned closer to you as he pushed up his shades up the bridge of his nose. “You’ll come around, doc-” His smile grew wider as he pointed to you. You could feel the air from the movement of his finger tickle your face.

“...eventually.”

“I’m leaving for a while.”

You stared at the tall man. The sun hit the side of his face, creating dense shadows. His cocky attitude seemed mellow. He looked...nervous. One of the few emotions you never received from him. You raised an eyebrow, you looked at him with an expressionless face. “How long is a while?”

“A week or two,” he said with an unconcerned attitude. “Extremely confidential business.” He nodded his head. “Absolutely classified.” The trees above the two of you swayed, creating moving patterns on the ground.

“Is it confidential? Or do you just not want to tell me?”

The blindfolded man licked his lips and pursed them together. He crossed his arms. “Well,” he began. “I have some business to discuss with Okkotsu.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of the name. Then slowly returned to the calloused expression. “And you’re not taking me?” The question came out more like a news flash.

“If I said it was because I was concerned about your work schedule, would you believe me?” he challenged.

“No.”

“Figured.”

Gojo put out a hand between the two of you. “Before you do anything impulsive…” He took a step back. “I’d like to remind you, that our precious students are watching,” he said with a smile as he tilted his head towards the five students.

You glanced at them quickly. They sat on the large steps as they chatted with one another. They shared the dinner Inumaki had made them last night as a snack. You refocused on Gojo.

“I know,” you said as you took a step forward. “I saw them when they sat down.” Gojo’s smile quickly faded off his face. You stared at him for a few more seconds before making your move. You grabbed him by his left ear, bringing him down to your height. The man furrowed his eyebrows at the pain. “The next time you see him, I’m coming with you.” Your voice was so calm it sent a shiver down his spine. “Okay?” you asked.

“Okay, okay oka- please let go now,” he pleaded.

You let go of your grasp. Gojo quickly stood up and rubbed his throbbing ear. The red color turned back to its original shade. After his quick massage, he crossed his arms and straightened up his posture. A smirk formed on his face. “Wow, who knew you could be so gruesome, doc?”

Your impulse was so quick, even you almost couldn’t see it. Gojo’s smirk dropped. Even with his blindfold on, you saw his face morph into an expression that if it could speak, it would say “Really?”

The back of your hand was barely an inch away from his face. The invisible force created a barrier between your hand and him. That lucky bastard. If it were not for his ability, the smack would have drawn blood from his cheek.

The tall man’s smirk reappeared. “Oh, sweetie,” he began. His words came off as smooth as honey. “There’s a lot of things I’d let you do to me.” He slowly grabbed your wrist and moved it away from his face. You watched him carefully as he did. “But that isn’t one of them.”

You pulled your wrist away from his grasp. “I know,” you said with a grin. “Just challenging your limits.”

Chapter Text

It was quiet. The chattering of people served as background noise. It gave an unusual soothing feeling. The aroma of liquor stung your nose. Dull yellow lights hung from the ceiling, creating a calming atmosphere.

Silence overtook the two of you, only small conversations from others fluttered in the air. You watched as the man ordered another glass of whiskey. The bartender quickly poured the glass and slid it over his way. A gentle smile appeared on your lips. He was avoiding you. Avoiding your urge to question him. You looked down at your glass, your smile still lingering.

“How much?”

You watched the man sigh out. His eyes droopy from his long day. He was most likely annoyed. He knew if he didn’t answer you the first time, then you would just continue to push him. You wonder if he was perhaps ashamed? Or if he was just too tired to deal with your curiosity tonight? He took another sip from his glass as he tilted his head and closed his eyes.

“Five hundred thousand,” he finally announced stiffly.

You raised your eyebrows. Your small smile turned into a huge grin - your grin into a burst of laughter. The man shuffled in his stool with narrowed eyes as your laughter continued. “Oh, Nanami,” you sang out, your head shaking at his moderate agreement. “You sold yourselves short.”

Nanami’s eyes grew more tired. He lifted his glass to his lips, this time taking a gulp. “How so?” he asked as he put his drink back down on the bar. He cupped the glass in both of his hands. His movements were subtle but sluggish.

“How?” you bleated out. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. How? How? You smirked with raised eyebrows, a small chuckle slipped through your lips. “Have you seen the checks he pulls out of his ass for Mei Mei?” you questioned. Your fingers slid around the rim of your drink. The glass was cold and slick. “You could have at least gotten a mil out of him,” you assured.

Nanami shrugged his shoulders as he looked forward. You knew he couldn’t care less. The deal was already done. There was no point in dwelling on how much he could have gotten out of Gojo’s wallet. Besides, Nanami wasn’t the type of person to take advantage of a friend.

You took a sip from your glass. “It’s worth it though,” you spoke out. A tender smile suddenly appeared on your face. You looked down at your glass as you remembered the young boy. “He’s a good kid.”

Nanami glanced over at you. “You’re biased.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. You didn’t look in his direction but instead turned your gaze to your hands. They were dry and a bit cracked from all the alcohol in the hand sanitizer. “I am not,” you said as you breathed out.

“You are. You think every kid is a ‘good kid’,” he said flatly.

You grinned at the obvious. You knew Nanami could see right through you. Maybe you were a bit biased. But what was the harm in that? You sighed inward and shook your head. “I think you’ll enjoy him.”

Nanami hummed to himself before taking another gulp from his beverage. Silence fell upon you both once again. You didn’t mind it. Afterall, time spent with Nanami was relaxing. A time for the both of you to recollect your thoughts. Even if it was just over a cheap drink.

Your eyes felt as if sand were sprinkled in them. It was past midnight, tiredness slowly took over you. You glanced over at Nanami. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked. You saw his eyebrows furrow as he concentrated on staying awake. His eyes filled with tiredness and worry. The eyes of a man that had worked enough - the eyes of a man that wanted rest. The sigh that escaped his mouth told you everything. It was time for the both of you to part ways and head home. You stared at the man as he closed his eyes and rubbed the temple of his forehead. You always wondered how such a young man could be filled with this much worry? In all the years you’ve known him it always seemed that he was worried. A second retirement would do him good, you thought to yourself.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sudden vibration on your hip. The sharp beeping noise causing you to wince. You sighed as you stood up from your stool. You looked at Nanami as you tilted your head to the door to excuse yourself. He nodded in acknowledgment. He understood why you needed to leave for the moment. You grabbed your coat and headed to the door. The smell of liquor quickly disappeared from the air. Instead the smell of a summer night filled your nose, along with the smell of your perfume.

You hurried outside the bar and uncliped your pager from your hip. You quickly dialed the number and rubbed your eyes as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally a voice spoke on the other end. “Sorry to bother so late at night, Doctor [L/N].” The nurse's voice was quivering as she spoke. Perhaps in intimidation. “It’s one of Doctor Sato’s patients; he isn’t answering our pages, you were the next one on the call list.”

“It’s fine,” you spoke as you rubbed the temple of your forehead. “What’s the problem.?”

“Oh, right!” she quickly blurted out. “Patient has a heart rate of 30.” Your tired eyes managed to widen slightly. “We started them on a cardiotonic, but that was an hour ago and their heart rate has only gone up to 42.”

“Age?”

“Seventeen.”

“Alright.” You fiddled with the pager in your hand as you clipped it back in your waistband. “Consult with Cardiology about getting a pacemaker for them, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed out. You could hear a bit of uncertainty in her voice, like she didn’t want to say what she had to say next. The nurse sighed on the other end. “Sorry to ask, but...” she started. You already knew what she was going to request. You sighed inward and rubbed your eyes once again. “Since you’re awake, could you come in for a few hours? We’re short in Inpatient. I- I’m sorry,” she stuttered before speaking again. “I know you’re not on call.”

You moved your phone to the crook of your neck, it rested between your shoulder and ear. “Sure, it’s fine” you assured her as you fumbled in your coat pocket for your keys. She thanked you before hanging up. You looked down at your phone, the brightness of the screen causing you to squint your eyes. You put it back in your coat pocket before opening the dark wooden door. It was a shame. You wanted to catch up on sleep tonight. Seems like that wasn’t an option, at least for tonight.

You spotted Nanami, he still sat at the bar. His eyes slowly fading into a daze. You quickly walked over and slid some cash on the cold counter top towards him. His eyebrows raised at your sudden reappearance. “I’ve got to go,” you said as you patted his shoulder.

The man slowly flicked his wrist to unveil his watch and checked the time. “Drive safely,” he commented with a nod. His voice was raspy and low.

“Night,” you called out to him as you headed back to the door. “Have fun with the kid tomorrow.” Nanami rolled his eyes as he smirked. He too was prepared to leave, but only after one more drink.

The street and traffic lights were blurred into a glob of colors. You blinked rapidly so your normal vision would return. Coffee. That’s what you needed. You doubted a good coffee place would be open this late at night. You supposed the bitter hospital coffee would suffice. Maybe with an immense amount of sugar, it would begin to taste alright. Your eyes started to drop. The heat in your car creating such a comfortable atmosphere.

The sound of your ringtone sounding off removed you from your sleepy daze. Your eyeshot open as you inhaled. Your hand rummaged through your bag in the passenger seat. You pulled your phone out and answered it. What was expected was a fellow doctor, maybe even a resident or nurse in need of your assistance again. Instead a coaxing voice answered with a mischievous tone.

“Hi, sweetie.”

Your eyelids fluttered at his voice. “What do you want?” you sighed out. Your voice was groggy and flat. God, your throat was dry too. Maybe you could stop at a gas station to get something to drink.

“Ouch,” Gojo grimaced dramatically. Such a drama queen, you thought to yourself. “Someone’s in a bad mood tonight,” he followed slyly.

You shook your head as you sighed and looked ahead towards the road. “Sorry,” you mewled out. “I just got called in.”

Gojo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “This late?” You hummed in response as you looked at the bare streets in front of you. “Nevermind that,” he cut himself off. “I have a favor to ask of you.” You heard the uppity tone in his voice. You wondered how he could be so energetic at this hour. It was bordering two in the morning now. Though both of you could be considered as “Night Owls,” it seems your time was always spent doing something productive.

You held in a sigh as you blinked a few times to get rid of the sandy feeling in our eyes. “What is it?”

You could feel his cocky smile through the phone. “Could you babysit for a bit while I’m gone?” You couldn’t help but sight. The pitch of his voice rose in response . “Just for a little bit, doc.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Yuji is going to be in Nanami’s care. Why do you need me?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, doc.” he accused with a smirk. “Have some fun with the other first years. I can't have you being too greedy with Yuji, now can I?” he teased. You ignored his comment.

“Why?” It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it. The first years should be fine on their own. Curiosity just got the best of you.

Gojo scoffed. “How are they going to survive without their great, all-knowing teacher?” he jested like an offended little school girl. “Have some fun with them, okay?”

You stared blankly at the road; turning the wheel with every curve of the street. “You still owe me for seeing Okkotsu without me.”

“Aww,” he sneered. His voice showing bits of pity. “What would you like in return, dear?” You raised your eyebrow in thought as you made a left turn.

“Spoil me.”

It was fascinating how quickly his voice changed. “Spoil…” he repeated under his breath. You got a quick laugh out of him. “Well that’s a first,” his voice was laced with astonishment. “How about something gold? Maybe a bracelet?” You could hear his jesting tone throughout his words, but you knew he was dead serious.

“No.”

Gojo sighed as he shook his head. “What’s the point of saying that when you shut down all my ideas?” Gojo rolled his eyes. “It’s whatever,” he grumbled. “Sliver suits you better anyways.”

“Alright,” he began. “I’ll leave y-“

“Don’t hang up yet!” you managed to shout through your groggy voice. Your hand clutched the phone while your other sat on the steering wheel. You breathed in as your rapidly blinked. The multicolored lights creating patterns in your eyes. “Talk to me.”

Silence. It felt like minutes before he spoke. There was no sign that you were speaking to someone beforehand. No voice. No breath. Nothing.

“Are you drunk?”

You shook your head. It was entertaining to listen to the disbelief in his voice. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“Something has possessed you.”

“Nothing has possessed me, Gojo.” You quickly closed and opened your eyes, trying to remove the gritty feeling from your eyelids. “ Just until I get to work.” You wrung out your shoulders. “I can't fall asleep at the wheel.” You hoped his obnoxious rambling would keep you awake. At least for the until you got your coffee. Maybe a caffeine pill would be more efficient?

“Nahh,” the man sang out. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. If anything you knew he loved to hear himself talk. Was he refusing such an ideal offer? “You’re just needy,” Gojo began as he grinned to himself. You narrowed your eyes at his boasting comment. “It’s okay to admit it, dear.”

You stayed silent, a cue for him to start. You listened to his uppity voice as he yapped away; telling the events of his day, his distain for the old man in Kyoto and what kind of sweets he has eaten in the past week. Even when you scolded him for his poor dietary habits he continued as if you never spoke. Perhaps your request for him to talk was a double edged sword. For his continuous chatter definitely kept you awake, but yet, it was a bit soothing to hear him speak.

Chapter Text

It stunk. It wasn’t one of the usual smells that you had grown used to either. Not the putrid scent of stool or urine, or the foul smell of a child’s lunch that had gone up instead of down. Not even the recognizable smell of blood. It was a smell that couldn’t be covered by the bounds of blue and white latex, nor by the distinct scent of rubbing alcohol or saline. It burned your nostrils every time you took a breath. The wave of air that hit you when you walked into this room made a faint crease appear between your eyebrows.

A fetching smile still remained on your face as you reached for the hand sanitizer attached to the wall. The foam absorbed into your hands as you rubbed them together. You made sure to bring your motioning hands slightly closer to your face as you smiled. The alcohol filled your nose, giving you a short period to be at rest from the atrocious scent. The corner of your mouth quickly twitched; the awful scent quickly returning as you removed your hands from your face.

You gently shut the door behind you with your elbow. Your eyes shifted around the room. Only two figures remained; a child laying in the bed as their eyes rested shut, clinging onto a stuffed animal. Your eyes landed on the second. A woman sat in a spacious chair near the window. Her elbow perched up on the rest as the side of her head rested on her knuckles.

Your smile quickly faded once you realized both were asleep. You turned around to reach for the door, ready to leave the ill-smelling room. The clinking of the metal gears rattled with the sound of the door handle. The rustling of fabric made you turn your head to look. Sunlight reflected off of sleek black hair as sleepy eyes flicked up to meet yours.

You cursed yourself mentally before turning completely around to face the awakening person.

“Hi, mom,” you whispered with a forced smile. The awful smell hit your nose, this time stronger than before. Your drowsiness didn’t help your case either. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

“No, no, no, no,” she quickly whispered as she rushed herself to get out of the chair. “You're fine.” Her eyes quickly lit up as she hurried to meet you. You examined her face. There were eyebags under her eyes. Ones that matched yours. You looked in her eyes; regardless of their tiredness, they were hopeful eyes. Eyes that expected something good to come out of your mouth. Your smile turned into one that was not so forced. Genuine gratefulness showed on your face. This time you could bear good news. You could bear news that would ease her - news that would maybe cause less sleepless nights.

“We found a donor.”

It was amazing. With just a few words, the tired look on her face completely disappeared. Her brightly lit eyes that were so full of hope, somehow became even brighter. Her quiet thankful regards flooded in as she grabbed your hand. Thank you, after thank you quickly bounced off her tongue. She bowed profusely over and over again in front of you. You swore you could maybe even see a few tears in her eyes.

You wanted to spill the news while both were awake, but it seemed just in front of the mother was a better option. You interrupted her praises by quickly but gently clasping her hand again. The quick movement causing the sour smell to rush even more into your nostrils.

“How about you get some air, maybe even something to eat?” you suggested with your tender smile still glued on your face. She looked up at you, tears still in her eyes. Uneasiness showed on her face as she looked towards the bed to the left of the two of you. Your smile grew more. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” You glanced at the small girl. She still slept peacefully, light snores erupted from her.

A deep smile formed on the woman’s face. A small “Thank you,” left her lips as she wiped away her tears with one hand. The other squeezed yours a final time. With one more smile she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. The gust of air from her movements shoved the overbearing smell down your throat.

You closed your eyes and pursed your lips. Your features finally relaxed. You looked at the small girl once again, before starting your search. You surveyed the room, your steps were light as you made sure the girl would not awaken just as her mother had. Step after step, the stench got stronger as you made your way closer to the other side of the room. Your nostrils flared at the revolting smell and your brows furrowed.

You stopped beside the bed. A crease formed between your brows as the corner of your mouth twitched in disgust. There it was. Your search was over. There on the tiled floor was the disgusting blob. It was no bigger than a basketball. The dark greens and pinks slushed on the floor as it stayed stationary. Three oddly placed orange eyes laid across it.

You scrunched up your nose in disgust. Your examination was quickly cut short by the gurgling sounds of the curse. The eyes stared right at you as you did it. It was completely harmless. From your knowledge, it couldn’t even move.

You put your middle and index finger together. With a quick flick of your wrist, the curse vanished into burning plasma. It gurgled in pain as it dissolved into black and green smoke. The awful smell quickly disappeared with it. You finally rested your face and sighed out in relief.

You turned to face the window. Morning sunlight shunned through. Several buildings painted the skyline. You didn’t have your watch on you. Your guess was that it was probably nine. You were tired. A maybe two hour shift turned into a seven hour one. It seemed those caffeine pills worked for the first five. But these last hours were a pain. Your eyes refused to stay open, but now going home was an option.

Your eyes landed on the sleeping child. A small smile formed on your face. Her hair was black and sleek just as her mother’s, but it was thin. No matter how assured of yourself you were, there was still a tinge of doubt that you felt. It made your stomach coil and your heart drop. You tilted your head in wonder. Your mind raced as you thought back to what Gojo had told you. His words were serious that day, you could tell by the tone of his voice. ‘It’s an advantage, so use it as that.’ You hated that he was right. Still, advantage or not, it was still an invasion.

“Invasion.” you whisper out loud to yourself. A small chuckle slips from your mouth. What a hypocrite you were. You didn’t mind if you used your advantage on Gojo. Hell, he invaded you more than enough times to make up for it. You didn’t mind if it was the students either. The many times where you had magically seen right through their lies popped back up into your head. You purse your lips together. A look of consideration shifted on your face as you looked at the sleeping girl.

No.

You were confident things would work out. No abilities needed. In a month or so, she would get the long awaited bone marrow transplant. Everything would be better, she would get to venture outside this hospital filled with sickness. Hope. That’s what you had given this child and her mother - what you had even given yourself. It was dangerous, yes. But it seemed worth it.

You reached for the covers as your face grew into a scowl. A handful of silky sheets bunched against your chest. You tried not to toss and turn as you ignored his presence. The glowing light from your lamp created faint shadows on the walls. Small slits through your curtains let in Iridescent moonlight that scattered your room. There were no birds, no cars, no signs of life from the outside. The only sounds you could hear were of his nimble fingers tapping away on his phone and the gusts of cool air that came from the vents above.

Your back faced him as you hid away under your covers. It was a pattern with him. Short little visits that were always unannounced. Sitting in his usual corner of your room - in the lavish chair he bought for himself. Of course, making sure it matched your decor beforehand. The short meter or so between you two created space. A line that was not to be crossed. A line that you both were afraid to cross; a mutual agreement.

You snuggled in the covers more. Hoping to get rid of the chilly night air that ran across your skin. You finally turned on your back and you looked up at your ceiling. Your eyes readjusted to the dim lamp light and the bright light that radiated from his phone.

“Stop touching my thermostat.”

He ignores you as he continues to scroll and tap away on his phone. The scoff of amusement that comes from him makes your blood boil. “Thirteen hours,” is all that seeps into the air.

You sit up from your bed. Your shirt drapes around your body as you clutch a pillow to your lap. You finally stand up as you begin to walk over to him, your eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“That’s a new record, doc.” A smile creeps onto his face as he turns off his phone and places it in his lap. You ignore his statement as you stand above him and glare.

“You're running up my light bill.”

An exhale of dismissal comes from him. You could practically feel his eye roll. This was part of his routine, afterall. The four clicks on your thermostat - his bag of sweets and goods that would be plopped on your countertop as the air turned on, making your house even colder than before. His strides across your home as he examined every inch like it was a museum in a foreign country. Perhaps even a little cleaning when he was feeling generous. You expected him to play his usual ‘I can pay for it’ card. But we’re instead met with softly spoken words as he leaned forward. You remained still as you continued to stare. “Thirteen hours.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned sharply away from him and started for the bathroom. He stood up as he began to follow you across the room. “Don’t ignore me.”

You roll your eyes as you reach your bathroom door. “I feel obligated to,” you say as you open the door and step through the threshold. It takes two more strides for Gojo to catch up to you. He leans on the doorframe with one arm above him and bends down to be at your eye level.

“And why is that, dear?” he coaxes with a small smile - making sure to fully pronounce his last word. His voice has all his usual charm and charisma. You open the door just enough to see his face, your hand still in the door handle.

“You came unannounced.” you say as you peak through the door. “You have a phone for a reason.”

Gojo raises his brows; his blindfold wrinkling in on his features as his smile turns into a shit-eating grin. “I used keys this time, though.” You want to smack that stupid grin off his face, but you decide to control your impulses tonight. After such a restful slumber, you would rather not leave your hand stinging from the strike to his face.

“That’s the bare minimum.” Instead of resorting to violence you opt for a grin of your own. “Dear,” you add with all the false tenderness and contentment you had in you as you close the door in his face. Small chuckles erupt from him as he runs his hand through his hair. He leans his head on the bathroom door with folded arms, waiting for your routine to be over. “You love my surprise visits. Don’t lie.”

You roll your eyes with a scoff as you begin to turn on the knob of the shower. Hot water pours from the shower head as steam begins to fill the bathroom. Gojo continues as he begins to walk around your room. “Yaga wants you.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow,” he answers quickly as he continues to look around the dimly lit room. “I’m guessing it’s about a mission.” You hear his voice moving around behind the door. You hum in response and begin to freshen up. “How was the meeting with Nanami?”

He perks up in excitement as he smiles. “Oh you know Nanami.” he says, still examining your room. “Same old, same old.” He begins to fiddle with knick knacks on your dressers. “I think he liked the kid, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

A small smile carves itself on your face. “Good,” you mutter to yourself. Gojo waits patiently as you finish up, still walking and snooping around. His eyebrows raise as he finally finds what he’s looking for.

You wash and scrub your body. Making sure to get off the smell of wandering curses and sickness. When you had arrived home all you did was eagerly strip yourself from your clothes and head straight to bed. You guessed that it was probably 11 in the morning when your head hit the pillow. You found it funny almost. Your hours were so out of your control; you had developed a night routine and not the normal one. A routine that even Gojo knew well enough. It was a balancing act all together. You remember the pleas that Gojo made to you. His suggestion for you to only work at the school. He bought it up multiple times when you had refused, but eventually he got bored with the topic. It was never a necessity for you to work at both the hospital and the school. Whichever one you chose, you were still well to do either way. It had been your own decision to work at both.

You walked to the bathroom door, towel wrapped around your body. As you opened the door slightly, you were met with the blindfolded man. He fiddled with the cylinder object as he smiled with a cocked brow.

“I buy you all these candles and you never use them.”

“That’s not true,” you say, pretending to be hurt by his words. You looked at the brown waxed candle in his hand. Pine Cone. The one had bought you from his last trip. “I use them.” You opened the bathroom door a bit wider. Only showing a fraction of the counter to him. “My favorites are here.” Gojo raises his brows as he takes a small peak from where he’s standing near the doorframe. You walk forward to him and close the door behind you and grab the candle from his hand. “Besides, that’s a winter candle anyways,” you say as you walk to the dresser and put it back in its original spot. Even if you didn’t use some of them, they still made great decorations.

“Before you scold me,” The blindfolded man pulls out his phone and yawns as he makes his way back to his seat. “I brought dinner.” He begins to scroll and type away on the device.

“When does your flight leave?” you ask as you sit down on your bed and start to rub lotion into your skin.

“Four hours.”

You look at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already around one in the morning. “Do you remember my request?”

Gojo smiles as he continues to do something on his phone. “Do you remember my favor?”

You finish rubbing the lotion on your body and scoot your legs back underneath your covers; your back propped up on a few pillows. “They can take care of themselves, y’know.”

“I know,” he assures as he walks over to you. “I want the girl to meet you, though.” Gojo grins as he bends down near you. His fingers reach for your face and he removes a lock of hair away from your face. You look at him with a blank expression.

“I think you two will take a liking to each other.”

Chapter Text

It was truly amazing how such small things could awaken such memories.

It all depended on the person. Something so insignificant to one person could conjure up such vivid memories for another.

Whether it be a beautiful memory or one filled with pain, they could all be jogged back into memory by the slightest of things. Things that only held value to you alone, one small person in this immense world. But that was enough.

Your hand rested just above his forehead. His white hair was pressed down lightly by the palm of your hand and fingers. It was soft, you didn’t expect any less from him. A few stray wispy strands of hair overlapped his face.

The gesture was sudden - an impulse. You hadn’t dared to push Gojo’s nonexistent boundaries. But something was different this time. Even behind his dark glass, you still noticed the way his pupils dilated. How his pale blue eyes seemed to grow deeper, as if a memory had been resurfaced within his thoughts.

Your thumb gently grazed the raised skin on the left of his forehead. Your expression remained the same as you studied the scar, but your mind was racing. Years, you concluded; it had to be more than ten at least. The scar tissue wasn’t fresh. The white-haired man’s face still displayed bewilderment. His eyes glossed over your face as you continued to examine the scar. Your fingers rubbed the scar so delicately, so tenderly. Your expression was stale, but he swore he could see a hint of concern in your eyes. Gojo’s observations were interrupted by an unexpected look on your face. It was like clarity had washed over you. His eyebrows contorted slightly in confusion. The corners of your lips twitched as you prepared to speak.

“You’re flawed.”

Entertaining. That’s how you would describe it. Gojo’s actions were always entertaining, even if it was in an obnoxious way. The way it took a few seconds for his mind to process what you had said. The way his face showcased an expression so bewildered that it made your face want to release from its amazement. The movement of his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. It was all entertaining. But your discovery was an accident: a sheer coincidence. It was by chance alone that you happened to look at the man at the right time. And it was by chance alone that his normally covered forehead was exposed from his white hair. You admired the scar for a few more quick seconds before removing your hand and returning to face the bar. A look of concern is what he saw on your face. A look that you had never directed to him before. It is only then, when he looks at your features that have become misshapen by your emotions that the cranks in his head begin to turn again.

“Aren’t we all, doc?” he asks as he turns to you with a small smile. If it weren’t for the condescending tone in his voice, you would have sworn that was the least narcissistic thing to come out his mouth. Yet you could sense something off about him. The way his smile wasn’t as cocky as it usually would be. Your brows furrow as you rest your head in the palm of your hand. “You're not supposed to be, Gojo.”

You could not tell how the words that you spoke so freely into the air affected Gojo. If you were being honest you didn’t care either. What you said had been the truth and it remained the truth. An uneasiness that you had never experienced before conquered you when your eyes happened to come across that scar. Flawed. Flawed? The thought of it alone made you want to laugh in itself. Gods aren’t allowed to be flawed. A flawed god could not be trusted with such delicate things; they couldn’t be trusted with such power. The thoughts that swirled your mind kept you on edge. He was supposed to be untouchable, but yet, there was someone that was able to do it - someone able to touch Satoru Gojo.

“It’s a long story,” he says as he fixes his hair back to its original position, making sure to perfectly place and prep each disturbed strand.

“It’s a story I’ve already heard,” you dismiss with all the uninterest you could muster. You could unfortunately recall it as if it were your own to tell. An event so important that even you in your tiny bubble had heard about it all those years ago. An event that swayed Gojo’s mindset and view on the world. You never let curiosity get the best of you. He never bothered to fill in the blanks. He never bothered to tell you the details, so you never pushed him to do so.

It was truly amazing how such small things could awaken such memories.

Such as you sitting in this old empty bar with him. How the sickeningly yellow light that created shadows on his handsome sharp features created such a nostalgic feeling.

The memories of your youth return back to you. Your time spent at this exact bar with Shoko as you both drank the night away. Whether or not it was a night worth celebrating, never really mattering to you both. Maybe it wasn’t a night worth celebrating at all. Perhaps a bad day at the hospital, maybe even a night where you both just wanted to talk. The memories of her drunken laughs that would echo around the large room; they were all triggered back into the forefront of your mind by this bar.

But you alone had triggered a memory for Gojo. The way you tenderly touched the scar on his forehead. How your eyes filled with concern focused on him. You didn’t know what he was thinking, feeling - remembering. You looked at him as you tried to figure him out. You tried studying his eyes, his lips, anything so you could try to get a hint of what he was thinking about. But it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to step inside his mind for a brief moment. To know what kind of memory had resurfaced for him. So, you broke his nonexistent boundaries one final time.

Your hand reaches out to him, in all its hesitation. Your fingers gently slide to his cheek as you receive a priceless look of surprise from him. His eyes widening behind the harsh tint of his glasses. Before he can spew back an arrogantly flirtatious response, your other hand cautiously lifts up his soft hair once again. The scent of his shampoo fills the air - jasmine? Your thumb glides to the raised skin on his forehead. The same reaction falls onto his face, his eyes dilating as memories come back to him.

Your ears focus on him. The sounds of the quiet tv in the background completely erasing itself from your mind. Only him and you are able to freely roam your thoughts.

The step inside his mind wasn't a troublesome task. But it was nerve racking. It was the first time you would ever listen to the blood that ran throughout his body. Even though you wouldn’t like to admit it, you were a bit frightened.

You listen closely as the sound of his blood rushes through your ears; it was overwhelming. Loud motion of his blood flowing through every capillary, every vein and every artery throughout him. You didn’t need to listen to know that Gojo was constantly thinking. You could figure that out just by looking at the man. But as you rub the scar on his forehead, the sound of his rushing blood becomes louder and louder. But not louder where you expected. Instead the pounding sound of his heart became deafening to your ears.

His mind was flooded, yes. But you could hear that his heart was roaring more than his head. He did not really know what made his heart rate speed up. His bet was the sudden memories that entered his mind when you had noticed his scar. Or maybe, the fact that tonight was the first time you had not addressed him with honorifics . It was odd that you calling him only by his last name made his heart race a little bit faster than it already was; not your touches to his face or the gently placed rubs on his skin. Anyone could touch him if he wanted them to, but by you saying just his name, it made it feel real. The frustration from the numerous times where he had asked you to not call him by such titles all went away. Whenever a formality from you laid on his ears it always sounded fake. Fake respect. Fake admiration. Like you did it out of spite and hatred. It was surprising. What was the sudden change? He had done nothing special tonight, but yet, tonight his name slipped out your mouth as if it were not a foreign word on your tongue.

It was stupid to him, really. How you just calling him by his last name made his heart jump a bit. His heart continued to pound as more memories seeped into his head - of a friend, of an enemy and of a ‘almost’ vessel. A day that had shaken him. And a day that had shaped him.

It was always hot in here. Or was the right word humid?

Sticky?

Your thoughts come to a halt when your ears catch the sound of your name being called. A stern deep voice that makes your attention almost completely return.

Old. That was it. The room always felt old. The strong smell of yarn that scattered throughout the building gave it an old feeling. Like a grandmother that sewed for hours at a time, surrounded by old antiques.

“Special Grade.”

Your attention is grabbed entirely by his words. The man sits in the vast chair of his. His own attention isn’t even on you. It made you feel a bit better for ignoring him the first time. In one of his large hands, a small doll, no more than the size of a softball; and in the other a thin needle. His delicate poking of the needle made more and more of the doll shape into being. The dimly lit room concealed the color of the doll as he continued to poke and shift it around in his hands.

You always thought they were creepy. Their deadpan eyes that stared straight forward. How they moved suddenly when Yaga commanded. Maybe it was all the weird horror movies you watched, but if one of those doll ever chased after you, you would make sure it never saw the light of day again.

“Nanami will be accompanying you,” Yaga speaks as he carefully inspects his creation. You were grateful for Yaga, even if the dolls he made sometimes haunted your nightmares. He was always aware of your schedule and always told you a few weeks beforehand about missions. It most likely wasn’t against regulation for him to tell you in advance, but you knew he would probably get scolded by the higher-ups if they ever found out.

“Ijichi will fill you both in on fight details.”

Your attention is once again obtained by him. “Flight?” you ask as your heels shuffle the ground. “Where is the mission?”

A slow and heavy sigh leaves his mouth as he gently places the small doll amongst his collection. A small crevasse makes itself known between his forehead and his head hangs low before he looks up at you. His hesitation makes your skin crawl.

“Kyoto,” he finally breathes out after a delay.

Your lips purse as you sigh inward. But Yaga is quick with his words. “I can post assistant directors to travel with you. Perhaps they’ll…” he trails off from his sentence, trying to find the correct wording. “-intimidate them.”

You considered yourself indebted to Yaga. Even with his little control on things, he still managed to try. There was no need to send assistant directors. It would just make another stressful day for them.

A smile forms on your face and annoyed scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes. “Intimidate a whole clan?” you ask as you turn around to walk to the grand doors. The sound of your words and footsteps echo throughout the building.

As you get closer and closer to your door, your blood begins to boil. You always knew they had a stick up their asses, but the lengths that they would go to rile you up were extraordinary. Every clan seemed to have several bones to pick, whether it be with blood relations or an outsider.

But it seemed the Kamo’s main concern was always you. A look of disgust crawls on your face before you exit.

“Thank you, but I'll be fine.”

Chapter Text

“Get out!”

You look up from your plate, alarmed by the sudden disturbance. Your brows raise slightly as you catch sight of the young girl holding a menu close to her face. Her eyes are wide as she looks down at the words.

“They have yellowtail sashimi?” A sigh leaves Nobara's mouth as she rests the menu on the table, a gleeful smile plastered on her face. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

You smile before returning to your food. Babysit. That's how he had phrased it. Although it felt like nothing of the sort, you guessed it could still be classified as that. If this is what “babysitting” was, then you didn’t mind doing it. In the end, Gojo was right. You did like this one. You had finally gotten a chance to go to the school to look for the two students and, in doing so, ran into Nobara before you even had an opportunity to prepare. Her abrupt nature had caught you off guard. So many questions were thrown at you at once that you didn’t have time to process them. She was an enjoyable spirit even if she had bombarded you with a quick and thorough interrogation. Megumi’s efforts of trying to conceal your privacy fell on deaf ears as the excited student continued to ask away as Ijichi drove you all to the destination.

Most of her questions pried for information about your wardrobe. One of them being, why did you not wear a uniform like the rest of the faculty? To which you cunningly replied, “It’s a bit silly for an adult to wear a student's uniform, don’t you think?” She quickly took the reference to Gojo, and laughter filled the car. You even received a slight snicker from Megumi.

You remembered back to when you first started working at the school, how Gojo had shown you your uniform. It was tailored to fit flawlessly around your figure and customized to your exact liking. To the blindfolded man’s disappointment, you hated it. Looking like a schoolgirl wasn't exactly the look you were going for. The days of your youth had passed, and you weren't about to spend your adult life dressing like a student. Your everyday wardrobe filled with blouses, pants, skirts, and t-shirts suited you much better. So, instead, a custom navy-blue blouse with the school's signature swirl button was gifted to you. So you guessed you technically had a uniform of your own.

Much more prying followed, such as questions like, why did you work at the school when you already had a job? Did you live in Tokyo? How long? What kind of stores did you shop at? What was your skincare routine? What perfume did you use? It was when her query started to lead to the subject of Gojo and himself, Megumi had forcefully cut the conversation short, which you were utmost thankful for.

Thus, here you all were. Out for a nice lunch at a sushi place that you had visited once or twice before yourself. The girl’s questions seemed to die down, but you assumed it was because of the food that was spread out before you all.

“Or maybe I should get rice balls.” Nobara pondered to herself as she looked down at the menu.

“Stop it; you're being greedy.“ Megumi grumbled out. His face was tinted a light red from the sun that shined down on half of his face. The suddenness of his words made you glance up for a few seconds. It had been the first words to leave his mouth since you all had arrived. “At least check the price before you go and order something else.”

A loud groan erupts from Nobara. “Chill out,” She picked up the menu from the table once again. “I brought money with me; I can pay for it myself,” she spoke out reassuringly with a smirk. Both Nobara and Megumi lean closer together as they scan the menu. Instantly Nobara’s eyes widened while her mouth slowly drew open. Megumi’s brows furrowed upward in disbelief.

“Nevermind,” Nobara slowly pushed out. Her voice staggered dramatically as if she had taken a jab to the gut.

“It's fine, get whatever you want,” you assured as you picked up another roll of sushi. It was your treat, after all. There was no doubt in your mind that Nobara’s aspirations were much more grander than her wallet.

“They have calamari, you know?” Your eyes landed on Megumi, who was steadily eating his sushi. “Go ahead and get some.”

The student shook his head as he looked down. “I'm fine, ” he said as he took another bite from his plate. You continued to stare at him as you cocked an eyebrow. Your face showed an unimpressed expression. His courtesy was appreciated, but money really wasn't an issue. Especially since you knew the dish was one of his favorites.

His face becomes red from your continuous stare. He shakes his head once again. “Really, I'm fine. I'm getting full already.”

“There's no use in lying to me,” you say as you call the waiter over. “Even if it wasn't a lie, you can take leftovers back to the school grounds.” You order the students’ dishes and make sure to add a little bit more than they wished for.

You hear Megumi’s sigh of surrender as you finish up your talk with the waiter. Meanwhile, a delighted smile remains on Nobara’s face as more sushi fills her mouth

“It's only because of that weird superpower you have,” Megumi muttered while taking a sip of his drink.

A small amused grin forms on your face. A grin that Nobara catches. Her brows furrowed with curiosity as she swallowed her food. “Superpower? What superpower? What are you two talking about? Don't leave me out of the conversation!”

“It's just a weird superpower she has,” Megumi shrugged out. “She just knows when people are lying to her. I don't know.” You raise an eyebrow. Superpower. An odd word to describe it. But you guessed it worked just as well.

Nobara’s head whips to you. A glare filled with determination hits you like a baseball bat. She hums to herself as she continues to glare. You stare at her blankly. You would be lying to yourself if you said her expression didn't leave you with a sense of uneasiness.

“I want to test it out, ” she says pridefully with a confident look on her face. It certainly wasn't what you thought she was going to say, but you'll take it.

“Alright, go ahead.”

The girl’s glare lingers as she thinks to herself. “Okay!” she drags out. “My favorite color is orange. Am I lying?”

It was such an off putting question to ask. One that wasn't that hard either. Nobara continues to stare you down as she leaned her elbow on the table; her chin resting in her hand. You shrug off the simplicity of the question and get to work. Nobara’s face is stoic and unveils confidence, but the tiny flutters of her heart that you hear reveal excitement. Blood rushes faster than you had previously heard, a bluff in the act.

“Lie,” you proclaimed nonchalantly. You picked up your cup and took a gulp, and continued eating.

The student raised her brows, still an expressionless look on her face as she turned to her peer. “She’s right. Orange is such a hideous color. Clashes with too many things.” Nobara smiles as she takes another roll of sushi into her mouth. “That's super cool! You should teach me some time,” she proposed as she pointed her chopsticks at you.

“What's wrong with the color orange?” Megumi asks. The look on his face shows genuine curiosity.

“What do you mean what's wrong with orange? I just told you what's wrong with orange,” Nobara bellows.

“That's not a legitimate reason.”

“Fine.” Nobara scoffs. “Want another reason? It's just plain ugly. There.” Her hands flail around as she tries to prove her point.

You decided to ignore the teens that bickered in front of you as you thought back to the numerous nights you sat in the darkness of your own bedroom. Your hands covering your ears. The sound of your own blood rushing through your body, pounding your ears. The deafening sound of your heart beating too loud for you to even hear your rapid breathing. How your very own existence made you want to rip out your heart to stop the noise.

Your memory returns to the times when tender touches of cold hands cupped your ears. The honey-laced voice that you could barely hear telling you to focus, to breathe. How you were too afraid to say how insufferable his presence was. How the very sound of his blood rushing, flowing like a river stream, made it unbearable to your ears. By him being there with you, the blast of his heart beating, his arteries that intertwined his brain, his veins that weaved through his body, his capillaries that linked throughout the very same fingers that cupped your ears with so much affection, made you want to rip out your eardrums.

The times where your overstimulated ears made you begin to think death would be easier. After years on end of listening, practicing, training, you had finally reached a point where you had a sense of control. For you to feel proud of where you had come was an understatement. You felt exaltation for yourself. The countless sleepless nights that you had all seemed to lead up to this point of pure relief.

“What do you think, Sensei?” Nobara quizzed. The two students' eyes were glued to you as they awaited an answer from you.

You tried to regain your thoughts quickly. You had ignored their meaningless quarrel entirely. You stared blankly at them, your mentality not prepared for the unexpected spotlight.

“No comment.”

Your home wasn’t cold tonight. Your thermostat stayed at the exact temperature that you set it on when you had left the house this morning. There were no half-eaten sweets that laid on your kitchen island or small notes with a questionable self-portrait, one of the perks of Gojo being away on business.

You placed your leftovers in the fridge; you would indulge in them at a later time. You inched into your bedroom and headed for the shower, turning on the water to make it warm up. You looked towards your bathroom counter; the sight of candles caught your attention. Candles that Gojo had bought you for no apparent reason. You said you liked candles once, and after that day, you received a candle for every trip that he went on. You wondered what fragrance would fill your home temporarily after he returned.

The sound of your phone alerts you as you walk back to your kitchen. You reach for the phone on the kitchen counter; the bright screen illuminates your face among the darkness of your home.

I'll tell him you said hi ;)

Your lip twitches as you read his text. You hadn't seen the kid in so long. You wondered how much Okkostu had grown, what he had been accomplishing. The one time the madman goes overseas when it's not mission-related, he goes to see him without you. For him to flaunt his time with the kid in your face was just a plain insult.

you insist on testing my limits, don't you??

Ohhh cmon

you know Im too perfect for you to stay mad at me -3-

At that, you decide to ignore him as you go to your fridge to get some water, which leads to a bombarding amount of messages from him.

don't leave me on read!!!! D:<

Ignoring people is rude you know!??

You make sure to open your phone to read the message so he could see the receipt and then place your phone in your pocket as you make your way back to the bathroom.

blasphemy! :O

the woman did it again!!

The sound of your familiar ringtone makes you let out a sigh in annoyance. You reach into your pocket and grab your phone. You look at his printed name on the screen, followed by the array of emojis and emoticons he had put there. It seemed before he left, he got the chance to change it.

You raise the phone to your ear. A fake sweet, “Yes?” leaves your lips as you enter the bathroom. The sound of the water running creates an echoing noise.

“Check your messages,” Gojo blurts out.

“I've checked them; I just chose to ignore you.”

An obnoxiously loud groan makes its way through the phone. Followed by the sound of your phone alerting you of another text message. “Check them again,” he demands like an annoyed toddler.

Your brows furrowed in skepticism as you put the man on speaker. Your thumb glosses around your phone to get to your messages. An image is attached beneath the lineup of messages you chose to pay no attention to. The image reveals a square satin box. Its contents contain a beautiful silver bracelet aligned with light blue sapphires. Stringlets of silver dangle from the bracelet’s base; at the tips of them are small sapphires in the shape of raindrops. The neat polish that's on the jewelry makes it shine even more.

“Forgive me?” you hear the white-haired man ask. His voice is sly and prideful. A voice that practically said, gotcha!

You hum to yourself. “I’ll think about it.”

“Would going out for dinner when I get back make you think faster?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out.

A scoff hits your ears; you could practically feel the eye roll coming from him. “So stubborn,” he teases before hanging up.

You let out a sigh as you strip yourself of your clothes. You open your cupboard filled with towels and washcloths, selecting a pair before you put your hand in the shower to test out the water.

Before you enter, you pick up your phone once again. Your thumb swiftly moves to Gojo’s name and then to the edit contact button. You stare at the obnoxious heart emojis and emoticons that he had put there. You quickly erase them and his name. Your thumbs are fast to type out the previous name for his contact. The typing sound is barely heard over the running water.

You skim his new contact name and nod reassuringly before making your way into the shower.

‘Shithead’ glows in bold on the screen just below his contract photo.

A loud sigh erupts from Nobara’s mouth as she holds a roll of sushi between her chopsticks. She looks at the roll like a sad puppy, her face visibly showing sorrow. “I'll probably never eat this good again in eons,” she says solemnly. “Goodbye, Spicy-Mayo Dragon Roll.” She looks at the sushi roll one last time. “You will forever be missed.”

“You're overreacting,” Megumi complains; he twirls one of the last few pieces of calamari that he has left between his fingers.

“I am not!” Nobara snaps. Her annoyed face lands on her classmate across the shared table. His rude interruption to her emotional parting with her food makes her groan out in frustration.

“Fushiguro, my friend, my oblivious friend. Do you not understand that that woman is our only link to real food?”

Her change in tone makes Megumi's face show a look of concern. “The food at the school isn't bad.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh leaves Nobara’s mouth. “Oh, how I envy your incredibly bland taste buds.” Nobara finally stuffs her last roll into her mouth. A small whimper of disappointment comes from her as she swallows.

Suddenly she perks up from her dramatic scene. “Hey! Do you know if she could take us out to eat again sometime?”

“You're being greedy again,” Megumi grumbles as he tries to humble her.

“Oh, c’mon. You've known her longer; can't you try to convince her?”

“I’m not doing that.”

“You’re right,” Nobara huffs out. “You have no charm whatsoever. You couldn't possibly persuade her.” She leans on the table with her elbow as her hand supports the weight of her chin. “I wonder if she cooks? I bet it tastes so good!” Nobara thinks out loud.

“Yea,” Megumi adds nonchalantly as he eats a piece of calamari. “She’s a good cook.”

Nobara turns to her classmate with a deadpan look. “She’s cooked for you!?” A burst of astonishment reveals itself on her face as she raises herself from the table, causing a loud noise from her chair sliding.

Megumi jumps back in his chair as he clutches his box of leftovers in his arms. His eyes widened in shock from her sudden outburst. “I- It was only once or twice; it's no big deal.”

“No big deal? No big deal!” Nobara repeats as she grips onto the table. “If it was no big deal, would I be reacting like this, Fushiguro?” Nobara begins to pace around the area as she grips the top of her head.

“And here you were cutting our conversations short, to protect her privacy.” She makes air quotes with her fingers as she says the word ‘protect.’ “Little did I know you were eating food made from her very own hands!”

Nobara sights as she sits down. “Where did you eat it?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow as she stares down Megumi.

Megumi's brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes shift as he hesitantly speaks. “Her house…?”

The gasp that leaves Nobara’s mouth makes Megumi jump in his chair again. “Her house!?” She repeats loudly with her eyes wide. “I thought she was your doctor, not your damn mother!”

Megumi shakes his head. “She's not my mother,” he quickly dismisses as he looks down at his empty box of leftovers, a tint of red covers his face. “She offered food, so I took it; again, it's not a big deal.”

Megumi’s mind thinks back to the few times where he had gotten greatly injured on missions. You had offered to fix him up at your home. He guessed the act of kindness from you was out of guilt. Unnecessary guilt that is. You were his doctor before any of the other students; maybe that's why you shared so much kindness with him. His clean-ups and fix-ups were followed by dinner. In your words, it was courtesy for keeping him cooped up in your house after school hours.

A sigh leaves the girl’s mouth.”Whatever. I'm just glad I got to meet her. She's even prettier up close!”

Megumi nods in confirmation. “Yea, she's nice.”

“She smells good too. Maybe she can tell me what perfume she uses. I hope she'll want to hang out again soon!” Nobara excitedly says as she smiles brightly. “I wish that-”

There's silence. Megumi looks up from the table; the sudden break in his peer's sentence makes him glance at her. “What?”

There's a long pause before Nobara speaks again. Her face fills with sorrow as she looks down. “I wish Itadori could have met her.”

Megumi looks down at his empty box of food. His eyelashes flutter as he thinks about his former classmate. The room fills with silence and grief as the two don't make eye contact.

“Yeah, me too.”

Chapter Text

“What’s the time?”

Your words overlapped the sound of echoing footsteps on cobblestone. The former silence quickly vanished from the air, making Nanami’s attention return to you. Your face did not change as you continued to walk forward. Your eyes were focused ahead with unwavering determination. This was how you usually we're on missions, but Nanami sensed something different this evening.

“This is the second time you've asked, ” Nanami spoke out. His voice echoed on stone walls. Even at his statement, your gaze did not divert from ahead of you. Ever since the two of you had arrived, it seemed that you were in a rush. Nanami had always appreciated your quickness and proficiency when it came to missions. It's what made you such an enjoyable partner, but today it was plain to see that you were quicker than usual. It made Nanami feel uneasy. With rushing came errors. With errors came decisions. Decisions that could result in life or death. Decisions that Nanami didn't have the energy to make. He could only hope your urgency to get out of here wouldn't affect your proficiency.

“I have somewhere to be after this; that's all.” There was a hum of acknowledgement from Nanami before he told you the time. You hoped you weren't annoying him too much. You would say that you regret your decision to leave your phone with Ijichi, but things always seemed to get messy.

You knew Nanami could sense it. You were on edge. It would take a couple of hours to return to Tokyo and being late wasn’t something you’d like to be. But something else gnawing at your mind. The higher-ups had flown you, Ijichi, and Nanami out to Kyoto, but they didn’t give tickets to fly back. They threw Ijichi a rental car and told him to drive the two of you back. So being quick about the mission wasn’t only for your sake but for Ijichi also. But it still troubled you. There were always round trip tickets provided. So what was the deal this time?

“How is Itadori?” You interrupted your own thoughts, looking for a distraction. Maybe starting a conversation of your own would take your mind off of the higher-ups, and maybe they would make you seem less like a bitch in Nanami’s eyes.

“He’s in good care. I can assure you.”

“Oh, I know he is.” You reminded him out loud. “I feel safer knowing he's in your care instead of Gojo’s.” Both of your strides begin to match up with each other. It is only now that you realize you had been walking at a faster pace than Nanami. You mentally scold yourself. Real bitch move.

“You seemed to teach him something worthwhile yourself,” Nanami praised. “It’s a shame Gojo cut your lessons short.”

“Ah, well,” you breathed out just as Nanami fixed the watch on his wrist. “It was probably for the best. I’m busy enough as is.”

You knew if you really wanted to, you could still be able to teach Yuji: Gojo wouldn’t stop you. But something about it intrigued you. For someone without limitations, Gojo always seemed to keep an eye on yours. It didn’t matter if it was with your technique or with how much you could juggle in your personal life. He would always keep watch, but never interfere. If you wanted something again, you would get it again.

“Again.”

The overwhelming smell of iron filled your nose, the taste of it even more overwhelming as it bloomed in your tastebuds. You sat on the floor, eyes closed as your hands grasped your abdomen. Deep, planned-out breaths left your lungs. You reached out your hand to him, expecting cold fingers to grasp on tight and pull you up. Instead, your fingers intertwined with the warm rays of sunlight as it shined through the open window.

You opened your eyes as your hand hung out in front of you. Even with his signature shades on, you could still see the look of disapproval on his face. There was a shake of his head as he kneeled down to you. He stays there for a few seconds, staring, taking you in. His lips start to purse together, a habit of his that you’ve grown used to.

“It would be a waste if I picked you up just to knock you back down, wouldn’t it, love?” Despite his face filled with worry and criticism, his words sounded as if he wanted to butter you up.

Your face remained stoic, but your lips twitched in annoyance. “You’ve done it many times before. What’s stopping you now?” you questioned him. There have been numerous days of training where you laid on the ground like this. The desperation to get stronger, but only in exchange for a taste of patheticness. The feeling of it as you laid in front of him, just to be picked up and knocked down again.

A sigh left his mouth before he finally grasped your hand. Instead of a yank upwards to lift you off the ground, his fingers slowly intertwined with yours. A barely noticeable smile showed on his lips as his thumb gently rubbed the side of your hand. You stared at him as your breathing slowly turned back to normal.

“You know,” he started. His gaze met with yours as he continued to caress the side of your hand tenderly with his thumb. His small smile turned into a mischievous smirk. “If I didn’t know any better I would say that you're a masochist.”

Your eyes roll as you quickly snatch your hand away from his grasp. “I know you would just love it if I was, wouldn’t you?” Your eyes follow his figure as he stands up.

“No, no,” he smiles. His hand reaches into the pocket of his uniform; his stature tall before you. “I just want to help you with your masochist tendencies.”

A pocket knife is what he held between his fingers. His smile was still glued to his face.

“Black,” he says as he stretches his hand out to you.

“Matches with everything.”

Presence.

A presence was among you two. A presence that was overbearing.

Your noses scrunch as a forgien scent slowly crawls in the air. Nanami quickly looks over to you; your hand lingers around your back pocket, the cursed energy that you had kept so well hidden begins to emerge slowly from your body. He takes a stagnant breath as he begins to take a step forward.

“What time is it?” Your lips lift upward as the question leaves your lips. You watch as Nanami flicks his wrist, revealing his finely made watch once again. With his nostrils still flared, he tells you the time—almost late afternoon.

Low laughs and giggles bounce off the echoing slabs of cobblestone. In the distance, a large and complex silhouette begins to emerge itself from the darkness. With every step the curse takes, the foul scent becomes more robust. And with every step it takes, more of its shape is revealed to you both. More manic laughter erupts from it as its figure becomes more exposed. Its cursed energy glowing and surrounding its body. There was no doubt within the two of you - this curse was just as strong as the files stated.

“Do you think we'll keep this within your timeframe?” you ask Nanami. The air becomes thicker by the second.

Nanami shakes his head to the side. “I started my day later than usual. We should be fine.”

You nod your head and let out a sigh. “Now for the second question,” you spoke as you reached into your back pocket. “Do you think we'll be able to defeat that thing without needing you to go over your time limit?”

You watched as his lips pursed together, his hand reaching to push up his glasses. He slowly sighs, but it isn't until a long pause does he answer, “I’m not sure.”

You let out something in between a gasp and a scoff. “Well, that's a first.” Nanami always seemed to have everything figured out. You hated to admit it, but you were a bit envious of how well he managed everything. It just seemed it was his natural talent.

More manic laughter interrupts your mental praises to Nanami. As more of the curse becomes visible, you notice the intricate shell of armor surrounding parts of its body.

“Flesh...Hungry.”

Now in the light, you can see the curse’s smile as it hurriedly slurs through its teeth. Its skin is barely visible. The Intricate designs of armor cloud up your view; its face is the only thing left uncovered.

You take a step to the side, making yourself closer to Nanami. Your hand slowly raises to point at the curse in the distance.

“You know that tie you were looking at on the way here?”

Nanami’s head turns to look at you. His hands are already occupied with his own weapon. You don’t look at him but instead continue to stare at the curse as it continues to cackle and bask in its own glory. With no response you add on as you shake your finger that’s pointed at the curse.

“You know,” you continue. “The Stefano Ricci one.” You turn to him and raise an eyebrow. You watch as he straightens out his suit and nods.

“I know the one.” The curse continues to hiss with laughter as it crawls closer and closer. Nanami takes a step forward with his weapon in hand.

You smile as you remove your hand from your pocket, deciding it wasn’t your time to step onstage. “If you can break that thing’s armor without my help,” you start as you take a step forward. “I’ll buy it for you, how about that?”

Nanami’s brow raised. “It seemed that you were in a hurry before. What happened to make you waste time on silly bets?” Your smile grows. Always straight to the point with this one. Maybe that’s why you enjoyed his company?

“This is going to take a while,” you said as you looked at the curse slowly crawling towards the two of you. “I’ll be late regardless.” It was true, with the abnormal amount of cursed energy surrounding this being, there was no mistaking that you would be late anyways. It’s no wonder the curse was classified as Special Grade. Plus, he could wait.

“Coffee.”

Your head snaps away from the curse. Your eyes land on Nanami. He looks down as he carefully examines his blade. You hum as you cock an eyebrow.

“Coffee,” he repeats. He gently rubs his calloused hand across the top of the weapon. “I’d like some coffee, not the tie.”

Your smile returns. “Easier on my wallet.”

You catch a small smirk from him, but it only lasts for a split second before you feel the gust of air from Nanami’s quick movements. The sound of the curse’s claws scraping against the cobblestone as it runs fills your ears, making you slightly irritated. Flashes of cursed energy run rampant as Nanami sprints into the shadow towards the figure. He runs closer.

Closer

Closer

Crack

A crack bounces off the torn down walls of the temple at high speeds. It’s deep in sound and vibration. But there is only a crack. A crack and then silence. Unsettling silence. There is no squall of pain from the curse. There is no sound of movement from the fine fabric that hangs itself on Nanami. It’s unsettling.

Unsettling enough for your ears to focus without hesitation. The sound of your blood rushing in uneasiness finds its way to your eardrums, alongside the sound of Nanami's heart beating.

Beating.

Breathing.

Though you could not see him in the darkness, you could hear him. Hear the sound of his heart steadily beating. You nod to yourself as relief washes over you. Always so calm and collected that man was. Your focus returns to the black void in front of you as you begin to hear footsteps. Nanami starts to emerge from the darkness as his back faces you. Sunlight from the worn-down stone roof begins to illuminate him as he slowly backs up towards you. As he becomes near, you notice his blade in hand. Its intricate print is covered in a yellow plasma-like substance that drips down onto the floor.

Cackles make their way from the darkness, making your gaze rip away from Nanami’s soaked blade. The curse makes its way forward as Nanami continues to back up toward you. His attention does not waver from the curse. As it crawls closer on all fours, your eyes move to its shoulder. Its once solidified armor was now damaged as a result of Nanami. But as you examine the curse’s wound more, your eyes begin to widen and your throat starts to feel dry. Both you and Nanami watch as flesh begins to mend together.

The previously cracked armor begins to regenerate. The curse, now fully in the sunlights begins to laugh hysterically.

Nanami sighs; he stands three meters to the left of you. He raises his blade to the small ray of sunlight shining through the stone ceiling. He examines the dense liquid briefly before slinging it off with one thorough movement of his arm. “I technically broke it,” he speaks out quietly as he looks at the curse.

“You indeed did,” you confirm. “Well, until it regenerated.” It was amazing how quickly it did it too. In a matter of seconds it looked like Nanami didn’t even lay a hand on it. “Don’t worry, I still owe you your prize.”

Nanami flicks his wrist lightly as he checks the time. It reads 7:05 PM, he tells you.

Your mind wanders for a split second. You worry for Ijichi’s sanity. You couldn't even guess how many messages were littered in your notifications by now. Did you turn off your ringer before you left your phone in the car? One thing for sure was that Ijichi wouldn't dare touch it even if you did. You wondered what that impatient man was up to? By now, he had probably already broken into your house, walked around mindlessly, adjusted your thermostat to his liking with four quick clicks, and dropped off a bag of sweets on your countertop. But this time, he was most definitely annoyed. And with no response from Nanami either? Phew - you bet he's having the time of his life right about now.

“I suppose I’ll give you this then,” Nanami manages to speak out through his teeth.

It was clear to see that neither of you had expected to be here this long. Usually, missions with each other were quick, tidy; but this one was about to be very time-consuming and a bit messier than the norm. Nanami throws his weapon to you. You catch it and steadily back away even further from the curse. You watch as Nanami loosens his tie; cursed energy flowing inside him amplifies gradually. You expect to see him wrapping his hand with the printed fabric, but you instead catch eye of him grabbing the ends tightly with both hands.

You stare at the blade in your hand as you reach into your back pocket and pull out a pocket knife. And as you flip it open, its blade shimmering in what little sunlight there is-

All hell breaks loose.

There is an eruption of loud giggles, followed by the sound of talons quickly scraping cobblestone. The curse goes after Nanami. His rise in cursed energy is like a red target on his forehead.

“Flesh… blood,” the curse drags out as it speeds towards him.

Nanami swiftly dodges the attack and starts to run in the opposite direction. His cursed energy tails behind him; his fast speeds look like a light show.

But the actual show was about to begin.

One time. Only one time before had you and Nanami put on this performance. But it was not a real one. It was only practice, only training. It was not in front of the invisible eyes of the audience, and it certainly wasn't with a special grade curse.

This wild stunt was like walking on a tightrope. Nanami was the acrobat, the entertainer. But all acrobats have a safety net beneath them, a little bit of wiggle room for mistakes. Something that can give them assurance and confidence. However, there was no safety net for Nanami. His weapon was with you. His safety net was with you, not under him but with someone who didn't need it. It wouldn't be long before he had it again, but the few seconds where he didn't would be the most dangerous.

So you had to work quickly.

You take the pocket knife in your hand and quickly slice the inner part of your left forearm. It stings, but the sensation feels all too familiar. The large split in your skin runs from the crease of your elbow to the inner of your wrist. A familiar scent fills your nostrils, the scent of iron. It stings your nose, making it flare. Before the cautious amounts of blood flow on the floor, you hurriedly raise your arm above Nanami’s blade. You watch as the crimson liquid drips itself onto the weapon.

You can hear the blood pumping through Nanami, his heart beating rapidly as he gains more speed. The curse catches up to him for a brief moment. It towers over him and makes its move, swinging its enormous claw. With a quick dodge, the curse catches onto the wall instead of Nanami, causing the old stone wall to collapse with a violent crash to the ground.

With the dripping bloody blade in hand, you walk forward towards the action. Your left arm begins to burn as it starts to emit a light haze of smoke. Nanami spots you in the far distance and quickly changes directions at the sight of you. The space is lengthy between the two of you, and you can tell Nanami is running out of stamina.

A risk. A risk right when it was your turn to step up on the stage, but you still take it. Your arm swings back as you tightly hold onto the weapon; a slash of your blood leaving the surface. The next moment it’s leaving your hands, flying in mid air at a speed you didn’t even know you could throw at.

Nanami’s hand reaches out as he runs closer. As soon as the blade reaches the palm of his hand, there's another audible crack that echoes around you. This time there is no uneasiness filling inside you, and there isn't the sound of two frightful hearts pounding your ears. Instead, a delightful gut-wrenching scream fills your ears, making you feel at ease. Your calming expression turns into one a bit more sinister, for that was merely the first impact you heard from the blade itself.

It all happens in a matter of seconds

A second scream erupts from the curse. This time it's Nanami's cursed energy absorbed in his blade that pushes itself into the curse. Next, your blood quickly pierces through the curse, followed by the curse energy that shoots into its muscle, weaving throughout its body.

The yellow liquid gushes out onto the stone floor. The curse fails around and continues to scream. Anger reveals itself on its face. The curse still tries to crawl forward impatiently in all its pity.

Nanami begins to back away, but you walk forward. You slowly pass him and make your way to the curse. You make sure to keep enough distance so the curse can crawl closer. It heavily gasps and moans out as it continues to crawl. You find a small patch of dirt where the once sturdy stone has now been uprooted. Thin layers of grass and flowers cover the area.

You look at the curse and watch as it changes directions to make its way to you. It seems this one was stubborn. You lightly tap the toe of your boot on the ground. Your foot glides on top of the dirt, making two circles, one smaller than the other. You reach for your knife and quickly flick it open. You raise it to your hand and slice your palm open.

“Contract of Equal Exchange.”

You watch as the blood starts to run down your palm. It slowly drips down on the ground, landing in the center of the two circles.

“Devils offering.”

The curse begins to wail and scream again. Its body seizures in pain.

“Burn…burns, ” it managed to pant out.

You watch as it begins to claw at itself in agony. Until a burst of greens and yellows explodes from it. Its screams fall silent, and the remnants of the curse begin to dissolve into the air.

You let out a sigh. The exhaustion and blood loss finally begins to settle in. Your hand begins to sting as your flesh begins to mend together. It seemed the sliver to your arm had already healed.

“Will you be alright?” Nanami softly speaks into the air. You catch the slightest shift in his monotone voice, filled with a drop of concern. It was always that way with missions.

You turn your head to look over your shoulder. Your lips are parted just a fraction of an inch as you breathe in the moist air. “I’ll be fine.” You look down at your hands and arm once again. You state the dried blood that runs along your arm. So uncleanly. The only downside to the reversed cursed technique was that it never returned lost blood.

“Say, Nanami,” you whisper into the air. You turn to walk towards him but soon pass him to go to the exit. “Do you carry this dull blade around because it makes you look cool?”

Your face betrays your calm attitude by a small smile being painted on your face. You're glad he is behind you. You continue, “I only ask because I suggest you get a sharper one, just in case we are to fight something like that again.”

Something about the pathetic excuse for a blade that he carried around made you pleased. It was like a little child trying to impress their parents. Boasting outright was something Nanami never did. But that blade was an exception.

He says nothing in return, but you know your senses did not betray you. You know you heard his heart jump up when you asked the question—followed by the faintest chuckle.

103. No more, no less

42. No more, no less

You sit under the harsh yellow shade of the dome light. Your thumb seems to have a mind of its own as you scroll through the numerous texts and calls in your notification. You counted exactly 103 messages; although around 60 of them were just random keyboard smashes of letters,

Nanami lets out a mix between a sigh and a grumble as he raises his finger to the temple of his brow. The harsh fluorescent glow from his phone made sure to highlight his frustration. His annoyed tactics did nothing but confirm your theories.

“How many?” You ask as you continue to scroll through the depths of text messages.

He sighs once again, “Too many.”

One thing that you concluded in your time knowing Gojo was that he was a clingy man. Whether it be the way, he clung to his friends or his very own students. The attention that he did not receive right there and then when he wanted it was considered a problem for him. That being said, he rarely never got attention. The only two people that could successfully deflect his attention-seeking were you and Nanami. Megumi could be deemed as such also, but with Gojo being his teacher, there was nothing he could really do about it.

So, in response to Gojo’s 103 text messages, (now 104) you send a singular period. And as soon as the read receipt shows up on your screen, you see him start typing. But just as soon as you see the three dots, they vanish.

Your phone starts to ring. ‘Shithead’ glows on the screen. Neither you nor Nanami flinch at the sound. Your finger moves to the accept button. In response, Nanami decides to make a phone call of his own to the higher-ups to tell them the mission was complete. It was his way of giving you privacy since he already knew who was calling.

There’s silence on the other end of the line, but not enough of it. Faint sounds of a heart beat find their way to your ears. It’s steady and sounds nothing like the frustrated mess you thought you would hear. Finally words are spoken, but you don’t find yourself the one speaking them.

“Did you use your domain?”

The question leaves you silent for a few seconds. You weren’t expecting a question. You were expecting a temper tantrum.He certainly had ine in his text message. It was late now. The dinner reservation so graciously planned out by him had passed. Time had gotten the best of you.

“No,” you respond flatly.

His response is immediate. A small, “Good.” falls off his tongue. “Where are you?”

You take a look out the car window. You watch as Ijichi fumbles with his credit card, trying to place it in the card reader of the gas pump.

You raise your eyebrows and your head leans back on the headrest. “Some gas station in Kyoto,” you sigh out. “I’ll be home within the hour.”

A smile creeps on your face as you cross your legs in the back seat. “I will say, this is a bit out of character for you. Where’s the temper tantrum I was waiting for?”

Small laughs come from the other end. “Caught me red handed, didn’t you, doc?” You can hear as his heart starts to speed up. You nod to yourself as your smile still remains.

“Don’t worry, I’m saving that for when you get home. An earful is waiting for you, no doubt.”

You yawn as you watch Ijichi return, closing the car door with a gentle pull. “Until then, I’ll be waiting.” And just as soon as the call abruptly started, it ended. However, the call of your name makes you look forward to the driver's seat. Ijichi timidly waits for a response as he fiddles with something in his hand.

Your brows furrowed as your voice carried out a calm, “Yes?”

“You’ve received a gift while you were on your mission.”

“From who?” Your quick response and dark tone makes Ijichi’s heart quicken in speed. You feel bad for him for a split moment, but your slowly building anger overtakes your sympathy. You knew who, Ijichi knew who. For fucks sake, even Nanami knew who, even as he sits in silence, just now hanging up from his own conversation. There was no need to ask your question. This so-called gift would be nothing but a message and you knew it.

Ijichi turns around, just enough to avoid your eyes. You were never one for him to be afraid of. That was Gojo’s job, afterall. But something about the combination of your calm expression and serious eyes made him feel that if he even caught a glimpse of them, he would suffer a consequence.

The box is gorgeous, a nice soft texture of velvet wraps around it. It’s slender in shape but has some weight to it. It’s a box that you know well. Nanami eyes your hand movements as you begin to open it. It’s a box that he knows well also.

You raise your eyebrows as you look into the contents. Your lips purse and your eyes narrow as you push a slow sigh out. “Montblanc.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, but his face remains as emotionless as yours. “I believe it is a limited edition.”

You shrug and let out another sigh. “They have good taste.” You stared down at the piece of intricate metal. 1906 Noir Spider Metamorphosis. You had to admit it was a beautiful pen. Stylish, elegant, sophisticated. You had eyed it a few times, but ultimately decided not to self indulge. But as you stare at the pen all you can feel is anger. Everything about it makes you angry. The red accent on the top, the spider clung onto it like it was the last meal it would ever drink. It infuriated you. All of the beauty you took in from it turned into disgust. They knew what they were doing, and it fit all too well with their theme. All of the mysteries became clear as day. The reason why the higher-ups left Ijichi with no tickets back to Tokyo. It was all for this. This exact gift.

A singular note is attached to the bottom. The envelope is in the same crimson color as the box itself. Your finger nail gently slides down the flap of the envelope, being careful not to tear it. A small, decorative card is encased in it. You take no time to read the contents, completely skipping the message written just for you. You search for a name instead. A name that should have been the death of you years ago. A name that makes your nose flare in disgust, in distaste.

Your eyes take no time to fall to the lower part of the card. They stare at the angelic lettering printed in gold ink, and once your eyes land in the four letter word, your brain finally registers all its hatred.

-Kamo

“They have good taste, yes,” you repeat. Your fingers make their way to the edge of the card, preparing to rip it to shreds. “But I prefer Aurora Demonstrator fountain pens.” A small rip damages the paper, until your eyes land on the neatly printed cursive just above the repulsive name.

“Arrive with a plus-one.”

Your brows contort in confusion. The letter was a message, yes, but not the recurring threat you were used to.

An invitation? No.

A summoning.

Chapter Text

It was cold.

To be precise, just about four degrees colder than what you enjoyed in your home. The difference from the temperature outside made goosebumps appear on your skin. You felt disgusting, icky, unkempt even. Thin layers of dried blood covered your skin, making you feel filthy. Cold air from your blasting vents filled your nostrils. The scent was a mixture of strong iron that radiated from your body, and the faint smell of what perfume there was left to smell. Yet, there was a trace of a familiar scent in the air. Cologne.

Cologne too expensive to belong to anyone else.

Your feet are tired and sore. The cold hardwood that lays underneath your feet turns into even colder tile floors. You lay the elegant and slender box on your kitchen island. Your three fingers pinch the red envelope as you make your way to your bedroom.

Your feet stop at the door. There's almost complete silence. Except for a heartbeat that thumps behind the door. It's not irregular and out of control, to your surprise. You could practically scoff if you weren't so tired. He was waiting. He was waiting until you finally stepped through this door for his true quarrel to begin. So? You finally walk through your bedroom door. The smell of his cologne is even more pungent; it’s nice, he rarely wears this one. But just before you can enjoy his choice of cologne for the night, words interrupt the silence.

“Hey, pumpkin.”

A new one. You had never heard that term of endearment before. It makes your eyebrows raise as if you were trying a new type of drink, testing to see how it felt on your tongue.

His voice is genuine but mischievous. The only light that illuminates his face is the bright phone screen and the moonlight that softly illustrates his strong features. You notice he's wearing his shades tonight; no blindfold. You don't take long to study his attire any further as he sits on the corner of your mattress. Instead, you start to strip as he continues to talk, not even paying mind to the fact you did not answer him. He stands up.

“That reservation was very expensive, dear. Do you know how much it cost?” He tries to make his voice stern and serious.

You scoff. The both of you knew that was a silly joke. So much so that you can even catch a slight smirk on his face that makes him break his act. Your clothes start to litter the ground as you make your way to him. His rambling still continues.

“You're never late to anything, and this is the one time you are. Y’know, it really breaks my heart, doc. I mean, how could you be late to me? Even late to your own ‘already late’ bath. The water is probably cold by now.”

You don't pay him any mind, but his last words pique your interest.

“If my memory is correct,” he starts as you finally reach him with your exposed body. “It was you who wanted to go out when I got back.” His brows furrowed upwards and he frowns as if he’s disciplining a young child. “Wasn’t it, doc?”

Your face showed no prior expression. But as you look up at him, you show off a look of irritation that's laced with drowsiness. Your left hand skims his collarbone as it makes its way up to his shoulder. You couldn't see it before, but his gray dress shirt really did compliment him. The texture of it feels good underneath your palm. You catch a bit of surprise on his face as he looks down at you through his shades. Your other hand trails up his neck, your thumb gently rubbing his skin. You lean in closer to him. It's laughable, really. But you keep your composure. You could hear the speed of his heart steadily increase ever so slightly. It makes your lips curl up even more. He doesn't even pay attention to the smell of blood that becomes more robust as you get closer. Your fingers tenderly make their way up his neck to rub his undercut as you lean towards his ear. He now has a new view of your back and the way your spine curves to get closer to him. His hands stay by his sides, not wanting to interfere with your newfound boldness. Finally, with your lips close to his ear, you speak for the first time since you have gotten home.

“There's a bath, prepared?”

Your voice is low and tired, but it makes the white-haired man intrigued even more. Your actions are enough to blind him of what you had said. He settles for a simple, “Mhh hm.” as he looks at the back of your head. And with that, you remove yourself from his body and whisper a small “Thank you,” just before patting him on the shoulder twice and heading towards your bathroom. This time your face shows a genuine smile as the bathroom door shuts behind you with a click.

He stands there in silence. His brain is running laps as the puzzle pieces finally start to fit into place. He quickly picks up the trail of clothes you left behind and goes after you, walking swiftly with confusion knitted on his eyebrows. He quickly opens the door. You're already slowly lowering yourself into the water. You are grateful that his words were just a fluke; the water was still hot and steamy.

“That's not fair,” Gojo grumbles as he stares at you; his brows furrowed. He walks to the other side of the bathroom to put your dirty clothes in the hamper.

You lean your head back and sigh out. You study him as he walks around your bathroom like a busy ant. Opening and closing drawers and cabinets, taking out towels and washcloths. It makes you snicker at his aggressive actions.

“Mad that I beat you at your own game?” you ask as you feel the warm water ease your muscles.

“I wasn't even playing that game,” he spat out in irritation as he laid down his arsenal of equipment on the bench beside the bathtub.

“Well, I was,” you shoot back.

“That doesn't make it okay.” He walks over to another cabinet that's beside the long mirror on your wall.

“I needed you to shut up.”

He scoffs as he opens the cabinet. “I wasn't even going to argue, honestly.”

“It worked, didn't it?” You playful say, letting your body soak even further down.

He says something under his breath, making you chuckle to yourself. Gojo shuffles through the cabinet for a few seconds before finally picking up a familiar pill bottle and heading back to you. “You’re bold tonight.” He opens the bottle and pauses. “I would say I like it, but I’d rather you be bold under different circumstances.” You stop him just before he reaches into the bottle. He looks down at you in confusion.

“Did you check the label?”

His former look of confusion turns into one of scrutiny. He readjusts himself. There's silence for what feels like minutes. He looks down at the label and reads it out loud. “Iron. 325 milligrams.” He shakes out a pill into the palm of his hand. “Is that good enough for you? Or do you want to check it for yourself, Ms. ‘Doctor’?” He elongates the last word, trying to prove his frustration.

You hum to yourself, pretending to think about it for a few moments. “I think I'll trust your judgment for now.”

Gojo squats down to your level, tablet pinched between his fingers. You remove your hand from the warm water and try to reach for a towel beside the bathtub to dry your hand. However, cold fingers end up grabbing your wrist before you can grab one. You look up at him in confusion as he returns your hand to the water. He raises the pill to your eye level.

“Open.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and a stern face. But he's not intimidated by your glare. You settle and open your mouth slightly. Gojo drops the pill on the back of your tongue and hands you a glass of water.

You take a few gulps and swallow. “How romantic,” you grumble as you turn your head away from him.

“I have my charms.”

You hum. “Is that right?”

“Absolutely.”

You turn to face him as you watch him grab a washcloth from the bench. “Y’know,” you start. “Sometimes, I feel as if you view me as a giant toddler.”

“That’s because you are.”

His quick response makes you quickly snap your eyes at him, making him snicker as he unfolds the cloth with his fingers. He clasps his hands together and holds them close to his chest. “Oh, Gojo, do this. Oh, Gojo, do that.” He bats his eyes while sticking out his bottom lip. The washcloth in his hands flails around with his hand movements as he makes his voice high pitched. “Oh, Gojo, don't forget the kids,” he mocks.

You lean your head back. “I don't think I ask that much of you.”

“You don't.” He throws the washcloth into the tub. It starts to float on top of the water and slowly submerges itself. Gojo leans on the edge of the tub with a smile on his face. A smile that you knew always came with a snarky comment. “But with you saying my name so much, you might as well take it as your own.”

You pause for a moment as you watch him roll up his sleeves. He completely ignores the weight of his words. You roll your eyes and change the subject. “I’m guessing calling you Satoru isn’t enough for you now?”

Boy, is he quick to respond. “It would be enough if you ever said it,” he rubutles.

“Do you have a thing with people calling your name?”

It was a sunny day. Summer was nearing its end, so the heat was not overbearing. You both sat outside on a park bench overlooking a lake. The sound of rushing water spouting from the large water fountain made for good background noise. You stare at him, your legs crossed, as you hold a cup of ice cream in your hand. He stares down at you, eyebrows furrowed. A spoonful of ice cream is stuffed in his mouth.

You bring your thumb to the corner of his mouth and wipe away some stray ice cream. You continued to look up at him in curiosity, waiting for your question to be answered. He looked handsome today. You asked him to wear his glasses today, not his blindfold. To your surprise he actually kept his promise in doing so.

“What’s - what's that mean?” He smacks his lips to make his ice cream with a bizarre choice of toppings melt fast on his tongue. Your question was out of the blue to him, but you had been trying to come up with answers and conclusions for years.

“You know,” you trail off to give yourself some time to think. “Do you like… ‘like’ being called by your name?”

He stares at you, face stained with confusion. He shoves another spoonful in his mouth, making a small smack as his spoon leaves his lips. He raises the spoon into the air. “If you are wondering if you call me by my name, will I answer? Then, the answer is yes.”

“No…” Your response makes him look at you with even more confusion. You stick your spoon in your cup and purse your lips. You sit there for a moment, trying to get the right words to come to mind.

But your train of thought is interrupted by giggles. You look up at Gojo, your brows furrowed. Your now the one who is confused. Was your question silly? Childish? He covers the lower half of his face and turns his head away from you sheepishly.

“Oh, doc, you're making me blush!” You see him smiling as he puts his cup of ice cream between the two of you. The smell of chocolate drizzle, whip cream, and caramel becomes stronger. He leans closer to you, that mischievous smile plastered on his face. You swore it looked like he would squeal.

“Asking such a personal question like that?” He giggles like a little school girl once again. You can smell the calming scent of vanilla ice cream on his tongue. You had thought he would have preferred to get a sweeter flavor. Your guess was maybe strawberry. But when you asked, he simply answered by saying he wanted to have the same flavor as you.

His smile stays on his lips as he raises his shades to his head, letting his blue eyes show. “If you wanted to know my kinks, I would have willingly told you.”

You stare at him, taking in his presence. Taking in his eyes, his eyelashes, his jawline, his lips. “You look handsome today,” you think out loud.

A cocky smirk appears quickly on his lips as he raises his eyebrows. Oh, how you wanted to wipe it off his face so badly. “Why, thank you, dear.” His voice is smooth and confident. He relishes the compliment like it’s the last words you’ll say to him.

You place your ice cream down beside you and return your gaze to him. A small smile overcomes your face. You observe his unharmed, undamaged, untouched face one last time before speaking again. “But not handsome enough for me not to hurt you.”

A quick and forceful flick is shot right between his forehead. Gojo holds his finger to his forehead as a low groan leaves his mouth. He slowly rubs circles around the tender skin. He hisses once more before speaking. “I know I said let me know if I do something stupid,” He slowly removes his fingers from his forehead. “But nowhere in that contract did I say ‘harm me if i do something stupid.’ ” He emphasizes the word ‘harm’ very clearly

“At no time do I want to learn about your,” You pause yourself as a look of questioning appears on your face. “Your weird fetishes.” Now that you think about it, maybe that was the word you were fishing for. But, you wouldn’t admit that to him now.

“I’m serious,” Gojo shrieks out. He’s still stuck in the last conversation. “This is gonna leave a bruise!” He rubs your destination of impact with his knuckle. He grumbles out with furrowed brows.

You ignore his tantrum and continue to speak. “What I’m trying to get at is,” You pick up your cup from beside you and face the male. “Why do you prefer me not to call you by your last name?”

You watch as Gojo lowers down his glasses. It would be a lie to say you weren’t disappointed. His hair falls back into his face and he starts to carefully restyle his hair lock by lock back into place. He lets out a huff.

“You have asked me this question before,” he says as he picks up his ice cream.

“And you have never answered why.”

“It’s too formal.”

“Wrong.”

Gojo cocks his head to look at you. “Wrong?”

“Your answer. It’s wrong.”

He tilts his head and teasingly smiles. “How so?”

You sit in silence. “I just know.” You take a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth and let it melt.

He scrunches his nose and furrows his brows. “Is
this your ‘lie detector’ thing?” he asks as he air quotes the two words.

You shake your head. “No,” you pause as you take a lick from your spoon. “I just know.”

There was a specific way that people’s hearts worked. A specific way their blood flowed. Lying was a stimulant, but not a very effective one. It only brought a sparse amount of dopamine to the brain. It was barely even enough to care about. But it was still there. That small amount of dopamine, that small amount of excitement, made people's hearts hiccup just a tad. The risk made people blissful. It made their pulse rise. It raised barely even enough for a Holter Monitor to even calculate. But these cursed eardrums could tell. Yet, you heard no hiccup in the white-haired man’s pulse. At least not when he told you this particular lie. He wasn't having any fun with it. No excitement. No minor hit of dopamine rushing to his head.

“It doesn't sound natural.”

Gojo’s sudden response makes you snap out of your thoughts.

He's closer now and smiling at you softly. “It never does when you say it.” You can tell that his words are genuine. Not a lie. Not a hoax. But real. He continues as he rests his elbows on the back of the bench, “But when you say my first name, it's real. It's not fake.”

You stare at him, and he at you. Then you simply turn to go back to your ice cream before it melts completely. A small “hmm” leaves your mouth before you dig in with your spoon. Go to looks at you with wide eyes and an agape mouth. He leans towards you with such seen that it makes you flinch.

“Is that all I get?” he asks. His voice rises in pitch.

You lick your spoon. “Were you expecting more of a reaction?” You ask as you tilt your head. “I just wanted an honest answer from you. It had been bugging me for a while, that's all.”

There's silence for mere seconds as he looks at you continuing to eat your dessert. He breaks the silence with a smirk on his face.

“You just love to see me fancy you, don't you?”

You smile. “I would be a liar if I said I didn't.

“Armani or Brioni?”

The sound of fabric vigorously rubbing on your skin fills your ears. It doesn't hurt. You know for a fact he wouldn't let it hurt. He's trying to be gentle as possible while also being as thorough as possible. The water surrounding you is a sheer shade of pink. Your arm lays on the edge of the bathtub as he tries to scrub off dried blood from your inner forearm.

“Armani,” he replies. “Thank you for noticing.” You see him smile, but he doesn't waver his gaze. He is concentrated and determined. Gojo dips the cloth into the water and continues to scrub.

He only dressed up like this when he was trying to impress you. You enjoyed it nonetheless; how he prepped his hair, his cologne, his button-up shirt. It was a new one - a shirt you had never seen him wear before. You never knew all the men's fashion name-brands. Not until you met Gojo, at least. It was when you met that you began to observe. You finally started to listen to your male coworkers and their conversations about their lavish splurges.

“It's nice,” you note as you look back down at your skin. You did not know why he always insisted on doing this. It was kind, sure. But it was also so time-consuming. It was something you would rather waste time on, not steal his.. It was nice though. This short amount of time you had to yourselves. Consistently searching for a moment to breathe. It was a shame that this was how you both spent it. “The gray tints in the shirt bring out your eyes.”

“So clingy tonight, aren't ya, doc?

You stare at him. His hair covers most of his face as he looks down, still attentively scrubbing. “I thought you would enjoy it.”

“I am.” His response is quick. He smirks as he lifts his head up to look at you, and his intensive labor stops. “It's just...different.” He lowers his head and continues. You watch him cleanse the last remnants of blood from your left arm. Gojo reaches out his hand in front of you. You comply and hand him your other arm.

“I’m sorry about dinner,”

“No need,” he assures. He dips the cloth back into the water and continues to gently scrub. “There will always be next time.”

You look down solemnly at his hands, working away softly on your skin. It seemed that was the phrase of the century.

There was always a next time.

Was there really? Was there always a next time? With work, flights, higher-ups, and clans; was there ever really more time that could be wasted?

You snap back into reality when a question falls on your ears.

“There’s something more though, right?”

Your eyes lay on his face. “Something more?”

Gojo sighs. A new look of concentration and seriousness reveals itself on his face. “You’re staring a lot tonight.” He takes a towel and starts to dry your arm. “I know I’m such eye-candy tonight,” he says with a confident smirk. “But there has to be something more.”

“There’s something else that’s been bothering you tonight.”

This was a…different setup.

You sit crisscrossed on your kitchen island’s stool. A fork in one hand and a pint of Vegetable Lo Mein in the other. Apparently, chinese was on the menu tonight. Someone wanted steak, but his appetite was too large for him to wait two hours for it to be delivered.

You drowsily sat in front of him nonchalantly with a cheek full of noodles. You didn’t know how many months it was till Christmas, and to be frank, you didn’t have the mental capacity to count at the moment. But yet, you sat on this stool with your very festive Grinch pajama pants. The green hairy mammal’s face was smack dab in the middle of your crotch—a Christmas gift from your dear friend Shoko.

The white-haired man stood on the other side of your kitchen island. Both of his hands were placed on the granite holding his upper body up. His glasses are at the bridge of his nose. His eyes peak just above them as he looks down at the countertop.

He stares and stares engrossingly at the oddly shaped paper before him. Each and every edge is ripped off. There are slender pokes through the paper in the shape of your nails. He had to smooth out the wrinkles and divots to even be able to read its contents.

He sucks his teeth and adjusts his stance as he continues to look down. You continue to eat and watch.

“Well, for starters.” He lifts his shades, moving platinum hair out of his eyes. “You could have been a bit more considerate of this poor, poor letter.”

You bring a twirl of noodles to your mouth and start chewing. You point at the letter and red envelope on the counter with your fork. “It's abstract art,” you manage to muffle out. Your face shows irritation and disinterest. It just so turned out that ripping expensive pieces of paper was a much more therapeutic activity than ripping up just any old paper. .

“Note taken,” Gojo acknowledged with a sigh. You reach your hand to the other side of the counter and grab the slender box. You slide it over to him with a push of your fingers.

“You want it?” you ask.

Gojo observes the box for a few seconds before you see his eyes widen in recognition. He picks it up slowly and opens it. There lies the pen, still in its prestige condition. It was the one thing you decided not to destroy in your drive back home.

His eyebrows raise. “It seems you’re a family favorite,” he grumbles out.

You roll your eyes and you continue eating.

“Ya sure you don’t want to keep it?” he questions.
“I hate to see it go to waste. I just know your colleagues would be jealous.” He closes the box and slides it back to you.

“I know I am,” he says with a smirk.

Your eyebrows raise. You had no prior knowledge of him liking such things. “I said you could keep it,” you assure him.

“No, no, no. I don’t mean your silly pen.” Gojo starts pace side to side with crossed arms. “I mean I can’t believe you got a present and my own family didn’t even think to give me anything.”

You rest your elbow on the countertop and lay your head in your hand. You slowly feed strings of noodles into your mouth as you look at Gojo. Your face shows nothing but tiredness.

That is until his words finally register in your mind.

“Family?”

You did not know if you heard his words correctly; if your drowsiness was messing with your hearing.

He centers himself in front of you across the counter. He smiles, one that you knew all too well. “That’s right, dear.” Gojo leans over the counter and reaches into the back pocket of his slacks. “It seems I received an invitation too.” He holds up an unfolded card with one hand. It’s in much better condition than yours. But you guessed that was to be expected. For the second time tonight, you don’t bother to read its contents, but instead drop your eyes to the bottom of the page. You search for a name. A name that should have been the death of you years ago. A name that makes your nose flare in disgust, in distaste.

But to no avail, you do not find it.

Instead, you find a different name. You stare at it, your eyes wide and in shock. This name did not make a disgusting feeling fire up inside of you, no. It made you feel annoyed if you were to be honest. Especially when it belonged to the person in front of you. You look at the neatly printed cursive signed elegantly at the bottom once more.

-Gojo

“Family.” He repeats.

Everything was the same: the place, the date, the writing. Everything in the letters was practically identical. Except for two things.

“Look,” he says. The chicken in his mouth muffles his words. He sits to the left of you. Both of your letters are between the two of you, resting on the counter. He points to your letter with his pinky, a piece of chicken in between his thumb and pointer finger.

You look at the words right above his finger. “The time,” he continues. “There’s an hour difference between our arrivals.” Your eyes flash between the two pieces of paper, studying them. You let out a sigh as you slide that papers away from yourself.

“I am to arrive an hour before you, it seems,” you say as you take a sip from your glass

“Wow! Such special treatment all for you, doc!”

“It's a setup, Gojo.”

“So needy.” he smiles. “What, you can't endure an hour without me by your si-?” His last word is cut off by a squeal of pain that erupts from him—a quick pinch to his wrist was all you did.

He side-eyes you and grabs a napkin from the counter. “You better be glad I like you,” he says as he rubs the stinging patch of skin.

“Old news,” you reply.

Gojo wipes his hands off with the napkin. There's a long period of silence before he speaks again. He watches you quietly thinking to yourself. Your hands are fiddling with your nails, a habit he picked up on a while back, something you only did when you were thinking.

“It will only be an hour,” Gojo assures you. His voice is earnest and low. “I will be by your side in only one hour.”

Your mind still races. A plethora of things could happen in one hour. You didn't want to find out what they were. As much as you hated to admit it: Gojo kept balance. He was a barrier, a shield, if you may. You would make sure nothing happened to yourself, sure. But an extra layer of security would always be appreciated.

“Do you think it was Gakuganji?”

Gojo leans his elbows on the countertop. “Oh, for sure!” He sang with confidence. “I bet his whole little gang knew where you and Nanami we're stationed before you two even knew yourselves.”

You breathe out and take another sip of your drink. “I’m surprised that that old geezer can still wipe his ass.” Gojo chuckles at your invitation and backhanded comment, followed by a yawn. You both were tired. With everything that happened today, you both were ready to clock out for the night. Yet, you both stayed still, not wanting the night to end just yet.

There's silence between the two of you, but it is comfortable. You don't feel forced to speak. So you just bask in the agreeable silence. That is until the man beside you decides to ask a final question. For the night.

“Would you wash my ass If I couldn’t?”

You turn your head slowly and hesitantly. You stare at him, eyes tired and blank.

“Uh oh, don’t look at me like that.” His brow furrows upward. “Remember, I think I've done something wrong when you stare at me like that.”

With your eyes still blank you begin to speak. “You did do something wrong. Why would such a question pass your mind?”

“All you have to do is answer the question: Would you wash my ass if I was unable to?”

You look into his eyes and contemplate why you even gave this man a key to your house. “Do you really want to know?” You ask.

You watch as he shakes his head profusely.

“I’d pay a nurse or something to wash your ass for you.”

“I don’t want those nurses to see my bare cheeks!” He begins to lean in as he whines out. “Women are just as perverted as men, you know.”

“I can assure you those poor nurses don’t want to look at your skinny ass for longer than they have to.” You return to your drink on the table. He goes silent, making you think his chaotic questions are done. But alas another question enters your ears.

“Skinny...” he repeats.Your head slowly returns to look back at him. “You think my ass...” He stares at you with despair written on his face. You swear, it's like you've killed a family pet or something. “-is skinny?”

You finally snap. “Oh what did I hurt your feelings?”

“You can clearly see I’m offended.” His neck is elongated, and his chest puffed out. “I thought my ass was rather sculpted. “

“What? Do you want me to say you have a nice ass, Satoru? Is that what you want me to say?” Your voice raises in volume. Your hands spread wide open.

“I mean it wouldn’t hurt if you did...”

“Fine!” You quickly interrupt. “You have a very nicely sculpted ass, Satoru! Do you feel better now?

He is quiet for a few seconds as he looks at you. “Yes, I do, actually.” He lets out a bright smile. A smile that came with the feeling of completeness and accomplishment.

Silence returns once again. But just as before, it is only brief, and Gojo speaks again.

“You have a nice ass...”

You hold in a sigh and resort to reaching over the man’s arms to grab his phone lying on the counter. Gojo watches you questionably. You unlock the phone quickly with his passcode. Your fingers glide to his contacts. Swiftly clicking on a name, you raise the phone to your ear.

“Who are you calling?” He asks with a smile.

Your brows furrow as you wait for an answer on the other end. “I'm calling Ijichi so you can get the hell out of my house.”

Chapter Text

“You know,” you had started to call out.

Your hand rested on the car door handle. The street lights illuminated the inside of the black vehicle. The night was quiet, but it was not young. There were no people casually walking the streets. No one walked in the moonlight holding a leash to walk their pet. No two people held each others hands as they enjoyed the night. It was too late for all of that—the low humming sound of the car engine made for good background noise.

You look out the window to look at your house. It was dark inside, and curtains were closed, but you swore if you looked hard enough, you would be able to see the bright white light from a phone screen. You look back down at your hand that clenches the door handle. “You should take care of yourself, Nanami.”

You were not even trying, but you heard the sound of his heartbeat escalate from your words. His breath is still steady and he quickly restores his standard heart rate with ease. You don’t look at him, but you hear the sound of his hands adjusting his glasses with a slight click.

“I assume you are referring to the incident with Itadori.”

You hear the shifting of fabric in the seat, signaling that he is ready to listen to what you have to say. You sit for a moment in silence as you look at the moon. It looks so close tonight that you think if you tried hard enough, you could touch it. As the small moments pass, you finally let out a sigh.

“Itadori has plenty of capable people looking over him, including yourself,” you finally let out. You still don’t face him as you continue to gaze at the moon. Nanami’s normal frame and posture remains steady even after your words have sunken into him.

He does not say a word. It is as if he knows you have more to say, it’s intimidating to an extent. You silently sigh to yourself. “What I’m trying to say is, sometimes a break is needed. We can’t always wait till everything is perfect to allow ourselves to relax.”

Silence returns.

But it is not the same silence as before. Now it is Nanami who is the one searching for his own words—deciding.

He remembers that feeling. The feeling of sadness mixed with the bitter taste of frustration that he felt that day. How he had broken his own “policy.”

Feelings were not to be intermingled in his work. The way that curse with a face of patchwork bursted into absolute tears at this excuse for a “contract”; it just made Nanami’s frustration grow. Nanami and you were something similar, he grew to realize that as the years passed with you.

Feelings were to be separated from work. Contracts that you had made with yourselves; a troublesome and demanding one at that. He noticed that you never liked your work to get to you. The way your demeanor would slowly change as the time for your job in the city came closer. But you were slightly different from him, a bit more complicated than him. Working with curses was different from humans. Emotions were bound to push themselves into the equation.

The man finally gets ready to speak as he takes a breathy huff inward. “I find you to be a hypocrite, Doctor.”

Your brows raise. “A hypocrite?” you repeat out to yourself. Your shoulders jump up and fall back down. “How so?”

Nanami sits there, but he does not hesitate to speak. “I believe we are two sides of the same coin.”

You look up from your hand and gaze at his reflection that makes himself known in the window.

“However,” he starts. His arms still folded as he looks straight forward. “I think I’m a bit too selfish when compared to you.” His words roll off his tongue like he was giving a speech at a funeral. Such disparity in his voice. It makes you tense up the smallest bit.

He continues without warning. “Or maybe, it is that you are a bit too selfless.”

“Cool gray, maybe?”

Your mind stops wandering as you are brought back to the moment. Your fingers lace themselves around the stringlets of silver and drops of sapphire on the piece of jewelry around your wrist. Your eyes snap to the other side of your room. They land on the familiar man who holds a plethora of shirts, blouses and sweaters in his hands.

The smell of your new candle that burns into your nose is another distraction. Another souvenir from yours truly. It’s the fresh smell of water lily.

You squint your eyes and blink at the blindfolded man and follow with an obnoxious, “Huh?” You look at him with furrowed brows as he stands in place with hangers in hand. His mouth is slightly open and you can swear you see a dead look on his face through his blindfold.

“You’re not paying attention to me today.”

You shake your head and return to fiddling with your bracelet. “Maybe you just want more than usual today,” you say as you look back down.

You hear rustling as Gojo walks back into your closet. He comes out with the cool gray sweater that you think he mentioned before you awakened from your trance. “Or maybe,” he begins. He throws down the garment of clothing on top of the covers that your feet lay beneath. “You’re just so infatuated with my gifts I've brought back,” he says as he looks at the gems on your wrist.

You roll your eyes and remove your fingers from the bracelet. “Just thinking about things,” you shake off.

“Like?”

“Like, why are you so hung up on what I’m going to wear today.” You try to redirect the conversation. Within a split second his mouth hangs open in astonishment. It seems it worked.

“Your jokes are not funny, dear.” Your apparent fashion designer says as he turns away to hang your clothing on one of your closet doors.

“I’m not joking.”

He sighs as he turns to face you. There’s a mischievous look that appears on his face as he holds his options of clothing for you. “I’ve got to show you off, don’t I? Or are you forgetting?”

You stare at him but then quickly roll your eyes. He turns around to walk back into your closet. “And you're making it very hard too, my god! There’s nothing with spice in here at all!” He looks through all the different fabrics. He spotted blouses, dress shirts and to his dismay, the school uniform that you had forced him to bury in the very depths of your closet.

”In case you have forgotten,” You slouch in your bed and the covers start to engulf you. “I work around children, I’m not trying to exude sex appeal.”

“I’m not even staying for thirty minutes,” you continue. “Twenty minutes at most, but even that would be pushing it.”

He dismisses you comment and starts to speak again. “First impressions are everything, you know this.”

“This is not my first time attending an Exchange Event, Gojo.”

“So our so-called fellow ‘teacher’ will not be staying with us-“

Six heart beats made their way to your ears. All were calm and steady; blood flowing with ease. Except for one. The pace of Ijichi’s heart rate was slowly becoming rapid. You heard the nervously loud beats pounding your ears. You could tell he sensed the contagion of tension spreading around the room.

You stand in the doorframe and your eyes land on Gakuganji who earnestly takes a sip of his tea. His lips smack ever so softly as he prepares to speak the rest of his “truth”.

“What a shame.” He rests the bottom of his cup in the palm of his hand as he continues to look forward at the monitors showcasing the forest.

“My apologies.” You manage to spit out with a half-assed look of sincerity. “It seems my abilities are needed elsewhere.”

You watch as Utahime shifts in her seat and looks back at you for a split second.

Gakuganji’s cup returns to his mouth for a quick sip. “Quite understandable.” He lets out a grumbled sigh. “It just makes me question why you are classified as a teacher at Tokyo, with your chaotic schedule and all.” His hands fiddle with the placement of his cup, he doesn’t turn to face the door to look you in the eye. “Having an extra Physician at the Exchange Event would put all of us at ease, I’m sure of it.”

Before you speak, your eyes shoot to Gojo who stands up from his seated posture. You catch a smirk plastered on his face as he makes his way to a table with a cup in hand. A refill? You know if this were any other situation he would have just made Ijichi to do it for him. Yet, you still catch sight of the devious look on his face even with his blindfold on. You watch as he refills his cup. and makes his way back to his seat, but not before giving you another smirk in anticipation. You know what he’s waiting for. A show; something to make the scene a bit more interesting. And frankly you didn’t mind that at all.

You lean on the doorframe and turn your head back to the old man. “Ah, I see,” you speak out loud in a low hum. Two hearts start to beat rapidly at your words. One with fear, and the other with excitement. Gakuganji’s heart rate remains calm, but now he turns his head to face you, now detecting the venom in your voice.

“I know it can be… difficult to ensure the safety of the students in such a condition.” You hear a small snort from the front of the room as you look Kyoto’s Principal in the eyes.

Piercing eyes send you a warning, but he sends a verbal one as well. “Excuse me?”

Your hands fold together as you drop them down in front of you. “Well, it is very common for people your age to develop an assortment of disabilities. I assume you want me here to make up for your incapabilities?”

A small chuckle erupts from the right of you. Gakuganji snaps his eyes to his side to scold the white-haired woman. Mei Mei holds her fingertips over her lips to mask her amusement. She makes an attempt to keep herself quiet by biting her dark blood red nails. “Pardon me,” she drags out with a not-so-hidden smile.

Ijichi’s heart is going rapid fire and you can also hear Utahime’s speed up too at your comment. The rest are calm and collected, listening with interest.

You watch as Gakuganji’s expression turns into a death stare. His top lip twitches in the slightest. “Young lady, I suggest not pushing your limits at a time like this.”

“Principal Gakuganji,” You take a small step forward. He freezes at the sound of his title. “I only say this in regards to your health of course. I know this can be a touchy subject for some folks, so just now I have many friends that would be willing to help you at any given moment.”

Gojo snickers at the front of the room as he holds his teacup to his mouth. “She’s got friends.” He blurts out just enough for everyone to hear it. He smiles as he sips his blend. Utahimes head snaps to the flamboyant teacher to glare at him.

“Don’t worry,” you continue. “I have a friend who is a rheumatologist. I’m sure he would be more than willing to help you, with your specific needs.“ You pause for a moment as Gakuganji looks you up and down, anger slowly building itself on his face.

Another snort comes from Gojo as he raises his eyebrows. “He’s a friend.” Gojo smiles as he crosses his legs. His brows start to furrow and he slowly begins to shuffle in his seat. “He’s a friend…?” Gojo’s questioning of your colleague’s gender gets quickly interrupted by Gakuganji’s anger.

His nostrils quickly flare with irritation. “Such disrespect will not be tolerated Miss! I’ll have you-“

You guess your disrespect continues, because you unapologetically interrupt Kyoto’s Principal. “I suggest not pushing your limits at a time like this,” you speak out. Your words are calm. Gakuganji raises his thick brows as he notices his own words being used against him. “Anger can cause stress induced heart attacks. We wouldn’t want you to fall over dead at such and important tim-“

The low and stern call of your name makes you cut yourself off. You can feel his eyes burning into you even with his dark shades on.Yaga sits in his chair and grabs both of his armrests as he continues to stares at you. “Enough,” he spoke out softly.

You stare at the old man that turns to face you in his chair. “Sorry, Principal Yaga,” You say as you stand up straight from leaning on the door frame and hum to yourself.

You begin to walk into the room, your hands laying loosely to your sides. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome.” You walk behind Utahime’s seat. You smile as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. You bring your head to the side of hers.

“Drinks next Friday?”

She looks up to meet your eyes. A worried filled smile shows on her face. “You’re crazy,” she whispers out, referring to your boldness.

You hum to yourself. “You say that, but you’ve seen how many shots Shoko takes in a night?

Hope. It was such a delicate thing.

It was such a fragile thing, yet it was powerful. People that bore hope as a gift were powerful. To your dismay, you were one of those people.

You carried hope in a sacred bag. You never liked to speak words that would bring forth hope when you knew there was a possibility it would not happen. But you still did. You brought words of hope to parents, children, students. It was something you had to do—a part of your field of work.

It was a different kind of hope. One that involved life or death.

Death.

What was death? It was a concept you were no foreigner to. You had seen death, smelled it, tasted it, felt it. It crawled on your skin in the form of curses almost every day. You had always thought that feeling death was the worst of them all. The unnatural wave of energy that rested on your shoulders. The heightening of your senses that raised your superstition. The feeling of when you knew there was barely a bridge for a person to cross, when the door was only a few steps away.

It had happened before. The hope that you had given someone—the hope that you had given yourself coming to bite you back in the ass. Every Doctor, Nurse, PA, EMT and Technologist you worked with had experienced it. Them and so many more.

But it was different every time it happened with you.

He stood in front of your locked door. His mouth was parted slightly as he let unsettled breaths out between his lips. His left hand clutched the plastic bag that held the half empty box of Zunda and Cream. A souvenir. That’s what he had called it when first brought it. It was a souvenir for you from his quick stop in Sendai. Now it was a half eaten souvenir from his quick stop in Sendai. But it still worked.

His fingers wrapped around the key that opened your front door. The rest of his own keys jingled as they dangled down. He was hesitant.

Hesitant to open the door that would confirm his gut feeling. He scolded himself for it. You already knew he was there, yet he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. He knew what had happened. He could feel it, it was the same feeling he had felt a dozen times before. But he knew that the more he stood there, the more your ears would have to endure the heart beats and the blood flow of two people.

So, he pushes the key through the lock. He can feel the energy, see it. It was radiating off of you. Even with the door still closed and his blindfold on per usual, he can still see the cursed energy illuminate off your body.

Gojo turns the key and opens the door. It all comes to him at once. The energy making itself even more known. He takes off his shoes, not bothering to take them off with his hands. He sets his bag of goods down on the floor.

He walks to you. His normally large strides maintain a shorter range. He spots you laying on your couch, your legs stretched out as your arm rests across your forehead. His head turns to see the plethora of papers, reports and files showcased on your coffee table.

Your breathing is steady and your eyes are closed, but the power surrounding yourself is chaotic. It flurries around you, stretching itself across your living room.

He stares down at you. The energy around you changes in power drastically in short bursts. High and low, high and low. You were inconsistent. Yes.

But you were trying. You swore that you liked to keep emotions out of your work. Yet here you were, letting them get the best of you.

You wanted to scream, to jeer around. To let him know you couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t stand him being here with you. It was enough already. You being alive was already too much for you to handle. The sound of your heart, your blood rushing through your ears; it was all enough. But you didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Cold fingers make their way to your ears, but a honey coated voice makes its way to them as well. You can barely hear the words above the sound of his and your blood, but you can still make out the words of praise he gives you.

“Good girl.”

He’s too much, but you endure it just so his presence can stay with you, comfort you for a bit while longer.

Gojo licks his lips, his brows slightly furrowed. He can taste the fresh zunda on his tongue. He watches you from above your head with concern. Your face is contorted in distress as you keep trying to maintain your easy and steady breaths.

Then, he catches a sniffle from you. Your face remains the same, except for the small tear that escapes your closed eye rolls down your cheek. His thumb moves without hesitation to reach for your face. He gently wipes away the tear as you continue to take deep planned out breaths.

It seemed you had tried it all. You had tried to block the noise with your own cursed energy; Gojo tried even. You had tried alcohol, Shoko had even tried making seals, but nothing seemed to work. The only thing you could resort to was keeping your emotions in check. You had to trick yourself into believing that things did not bother you. Death did notbother you. Uncertainty did not bother you.

But there were times when you could not act anymore. So, you would endure it. It hurt. The sound of blood tormenting you, eating at you. It was excruciating. His hands on your ears making the sound of his blood rushing through his arteries all the more unbearable. The way you could feel his pulse in his finger. The way it pounded your ears to no end. It all hurt. But you endure. You want him here. You want him with you. You don’t want to be alone. The sound of his heart was insufferable, yes. But it provided assurance. Someone was with you. Someone was watching you. Both a blessing and a curse, but it was a curse you could push through.

He begins to reach under your head. You feel his hands that start to make their way under your legs. Your body begins to feel like it’s floating and the sound of his heart gets louder as your head gets gently placed on his chest.

His strides are long and quick. Before you know it, you're on a cool mattress. It relaxes your body to an extent, making it easier for you to breathe. Your arm remains over your forehead as you begin to think of how this mattress became yours.

It was a gift. A selfish one in fact. Gojo had said that your old one was hideous and uncomfortable. You didn’t know why he cared so much since he had only had the opportunity to sit down on it once. In his words, he wouldn’t even sit his ass on that piece of cardboard again, even if it was for you. Thus, two days later, you apparently had a new mattress.

Your body begins to relax a bit, but your ears still ring with the sound of blood. You feel the weight that makes its way onto your bed. He lays on top of the covers with you. You don’t want to open your eyes and Gojo is fine with that. But you feel him. You feel his eyes watching over you. A part of you wanted him to stop. The feeling of embarrassment soaking into you felt almost as unbearable as the sound tormenting your ears. Your thoughts are interrupted by long fingers that start to intertwining with yours. They’re cold and soft. It’s comforting.

You were thankful to have a home that you could call your own. When you had moved to the city that was the only thing you had wished for when picking out a place to settle down. Gojo had an array of grand apartments laid out for you, ready to enjoy. At the time he himself hadn’t known why you had been so picky. He blamed it on you being severely spoiled. But you couldn’t deal with it—being so close with your neighbors. Hearing their hearts beat and blood flow day after day, night after night. Yes, you were picky, but now he knew you had reason.

The night gets less and less young with every minute that passes. Everything in your dark bedroom stays still. Neither you nor Gojo dares to move. There is only the occasional movement of Gojo’s thumb as he rubs your hand tenderly.

The minutes that pass by so slowly turn into hours. For hours you lay on your bed in the stillness of your room. For hours the now unblindfolded man stares at your features; taking in the cursed energy that emits off of you. He watches the energy dance around you like silk sheets.

As the hours pass you begin to take normal breaths. The sound of blood agonizing you starts to become background noise.

Then, it simply stops.

Your chest feels lighter and your ears ring free from hearing life all night. Gojo watches as you move for the first time in hours. You lift yourself up and swing your legs off of the bed. Your sudden movements startle him and his face morphs into a look of concern as he claws the sheets to reach for you. His hand grabs your forearm gently, suggesting that you lay back down.

Your back still faces him, but you look back at him. It’s the first time he’s seen your eyes tonight. They’re tired and red. There’s a feeling of numbness in them, but so much emotion too.

“Settle down, I just need to piss,” you rasped out.

His look of concern turns into one of amusement as a smirk appears on his face. He lets go of your arm and returns to his spot on the bed.

Your head is tilted down as you stand before your bathroom sink. You don’t want to look at yourself. You didn’t want to see your reflection. A feeling of weakness creeped up on you. It was overwhelming. You grab the glass to your left and fill it up with water from the faucet. You take large gulps as you tilt back your head. It was all gone in a matter of seconds. The new feeling of clean pajamas makes you relax a bit more.

You sigh out and put the glass back down and open the bathroom door expecting the white-haired man to be on your bed. Instead, you’re met with cerulean eyes that stare down at you through dark shades. He tries to hide it but you can see the faintest bit of worry in his eyes.

He breathes in deeply before speaking. You stare back at him with tired eyes.

“Don’t do anything rash.” His words are stern and authoritative. An unusual tone to hear from him.

“Rash?” You repeat out loud

He sighs inward as he licks his lips. You can sense the frustration radiating off of him. “Slow down,” he says. “Get some rest.”

You attempt to walk forward but he stops you by blocking the door frame and grabbing a hold on your hand. Your eyes snap to his in annoyance.

He bends down to properly look you in the eye and you take him all in. “Everything can wait, get some rest.” His words now sound like a demand and it irks you beyond end.

“I could say the same for you,” His brows furrowed in confusion at your words, until you speak again.

“What happened at the Exchange Event?” You question. His eyes go big, but then quickly return to normal. “Somethings been on your mind.” You continue. “I could hear it all night.”

He continues to stare at you and his back stiffens. “You do not need to concern yourself with it. I need you to rest and not to worry.”

“I am not worried, I know you will take care of it, whatever it is.” You breathe in and close your eyes. “It’s just been bothering you.”

You look down at your hand which he still has in his grasp. He looks at you, his stare now filled with more concern. “So, you understand that I can not have you worrying about it.”

You settle for a simple nod. You understood his reasoning; no matter how much you wanted to deny it. Your cursed energy was vulnerable right now. The slightest bit of stress or worry could inflict another episode. You knew it was for the better if he waited to tell you.

Then the question you’ve been dreading to leave his mouth finally does. “Would you want to talk about it?”

You quickly shutdown the idea. You both already knew what had happened. It was an everyday occurrence for patients to pass away. You didn’t know why this one got to you so much. It was out of character for you, drastic to say the least. You didn’t want to dwell on it even a little, for you knew it might get to you again.

He nods back at you, a sense of relief washed over him. Gojo then moves out of your bathroom door frame to let you through.

“I’ll stay until I know you’re asleep.” He calls out to you as he twirls out his phone into his hand. He walks over to the chair in the corner of your room and sits down. Gojo then points to you and then the bed. His eyes glue to his screen as he waits for you to crawl under your sheets.

But you don’t.

You stand there. You stand there and look at the man sitting down in the corner of your bedroom. You look at him long and hard. You look at every feature. The way his hair flops down withought his blindfold. The way his uniform shines a bit under the moon light. You took it all in. Gojo looks up from his phone; puzzlement on his face. He looks you in the eyes with worry, questioning if everything was alright.

“Stay.”

His eyebrows raised in confusion and he bleats out an obnoxious, “Huh?”

You stare at him more, your stomach twisting at your own request. “Stay, Satoru.” You repeat yourself. “Stay the night.”

The look of astonishment on his face is glorious. His lips quirk up into a small smile, one that looks like he’s scheming. “Satoru,” he mumbles under his breath, smirk still on his face. “Satoru,” he repeats again. “I can work with that. I like that.”

The male stands up from his comfortable position and begins to walk to where you stand. His smile stays as he reaches you. He removes some hair lazily lying on your shoulder and looks at you.

His voice is low and coated in honey.. “How about you say it again, and I’ll buy you that sofa you wanted from Sag Harbor, hmm?”

“Do not dwell on my words.” You hear Nanami’s tired voice call out to you. You’re already halfway out the car door. “We need more selfless people in the world.”

Nanami believed in what he said. If only there were more people as selfless as you. Although, he only wished that it was you who wasn’t the selfless one.

He saw what you had given. Saw what you were willing to give. How you gave the school your abilities. However, it made him feel unsettled at how much you offered. And the thing he witnessed the most was how much you gave Gojo.

He saw how the Higher-ups targeted you; and how they were utterly infatuated with you at the same time. Nanami didn’t know the details and he never bothered to pry, but he knew what he had seen.

“Giving but never taking enough is your flaw.” You don’t say anything as you look back at the tired man. Your brows raise at his words. “Take a break.” You hear Nanami suggest.

“Don’t apologize.” Your hand clutches the door handle and you begin to open the door more. “Your words are most likely true.”

You step out of the vehicle and look Nanami in the eye. “Don’t worry, Nanami. I’ll make sure I won’t be knocked down so easily.”

With tired eyes you manage to smile just barely. You know this mission had taken a toll on both of you. Nanami stares at your tired figure and manages to let a small smile slip himself.

“Remember to take care, Nanami.”

Chapter Text

Gentle breezes relieved your body from the humid air. It was refreshing, and you could smell the leaves from the trees surrounding the baseball field. It wasn’t quite autumn yet, but you could tell by the crisp air that it would soon come.

The sun bears down on the students that mingle and laugh–some more than others. You had watched as they had hit, missed, and struck out time and time again.

You felt a series of emotions as the game continued. You cheered, frowned, yelled, and screamed. Your calm and refined attitude seemed almost to go away. When it came to a game, you showed your competitive side. You also may be teased Utahime a little about her students’ abilities.

Utahime sniffs the air as she searches for the scent she is trying to pinpoint. She finally leans in towards you slightly and then returns back to her place.

“Why do you smell like Gojo?”

You tilt your head and pretend to be curious. “How do you know what he smells like?” You tease as you lean towards her.

She scowls and turns away from you. “I hate you, you know that?”

“It’s okay to admit you adore me.” You say with a shit-eating grin as you rest your head on her shoulder.

You had laughed as well as you watched your own students step up to the plate.

Nobara was undoubtedly a personality. Her outburst had surprised you, but it was entertaining. The way all of her classmates tried to hold her back as she verbally jabbed at Zen’in was amusing, to say the least.

You heard Gojo’s own flamboyant and cocky attitude all the way from the other side of the field. You could tell he was definitely in a good mood. Perhaps the carefree sleepover of last night had sparked something in him. You could tell he was having fun, and you were too, to an extent. He had exchanged the occasional look of concern. The look that talked itself. ‘Are you alright?’ Referring to the events of earlier last night. To which you replied with a small smile. Still, the male would continue governing the students that dispersed across the field. You would occasionally hear the light-hearted singing of his that echoed, “Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd.”

The time had come for Megumi to step up to the plate. You observed the slight sunburn on his nose as it glistened with sweat. You visibly frowned when you caught sight of it. The boy was relatively susceptible to sunburns, something you had noticed over the years. You always reminded him, but he never seemed to listen.

The ball is pitched quickly by the odd… ‘spare’ Mecahmaru? It happens fast, but you definitely know it happened. You watch as the ball gets bunted, and Megumi runs towards first base. He is quickly put to a halt as the ball is thrown to a gloved hand.

Gojo hesitates before he speaks. His face is blank and unobservable behind his shades as he looks at Megumi and walks back to his prior seat.

“Out.”

You both watch the boy walk to rejoin his classmates. Your faces show nothing, just stillness. Your eyes meet each other, and you exchange a look from across the field. A look that reassured yourselves that you both had seen what played out before the two of you. A look that reassured Gojo that he had made the right call. His eyes weren’t deceiving him. Neither of yours was. The clearly disappointed and pitiful eyes of the Tokyo team solidify it.

It all happens quickly, and just as soon as you exchange glances, Panda steps up to swing, and you both continue with what you were doing prior.

The game continues, but you soon realize, Gojo was not the only one observing the sidelines. You felt eyes on you from the moment you had sat down. They never lingered longer than a few seconds. That is until they did.

You were tired of pretending to not feel the stare that watched you every now and then. And so, as the game progresses, your eyes finally meet your admirer. He is clearly shocked and embarrassed at the sudden eye contact. From what you could see behind his partly bandaged face, his face seemed to turn beat red as he knew he was caught. Your eyes don’t stay longer than they have to on the Kamo boy. You were irritated, yes, but you did not want to frighten the kid.

His stares weren’t without reason, you knew this. It was something along the lines of seeing a friend before a party. But you were neither friend nor foe. Simply two people that knew they would meet later on by unfortunate fate. You watched as the boy averted his gaze quickly and continued to run to his assigned base.

Time was ticking. In less than eight hours, you would have to be present at an estate that you had only walked in once before. With each passing minute, it seemed you grew a bit more anxious than the last. And with each swift graze over your features, Gojo could tell how much more uneasy you became.

You didn’t like this.

You didn’t like this at all. The sudden and unexpected sensation of hands picking and prying at you made you irritated.

You didn’t have a second to breathe, not one second to feel your own body to yourself. Every second there were hands on you. Just pairs beyond pairs of hands fiddling away at your body.

A pair of small delicate hands worked away as they held your finger in place. You watched as the small girl gently cradled your fingers as she painted the clear coat of polish on your nails. She was focused, and her attention was unwavering, but she also seemed frightened—paranoid. As if something would happen if she messed up. The others were the same. They treated you like porcelain, like a doll that would shatter under the slightest pressure.

Seven girls surround you. From the looks of it, their ages seemed to range from 14 to 17. A tragedy, really. They were so young, yet, they were living their lives serving. You wondered where they would be in life if it were not for them being chained down to this estate.

The girls carry on with their art. They quickly walk back and forth around the spacious room. Some, poke and pry gently with your hair. Others, at your waist, as they try to make adjustments to the dress that was generously gifted to you. It’s tight-fitting above your waist, and your chest feels bare with your collar bones exposed. The dress goes as far as your calf, which gives you some relief. And it flows with ease. It was not an extravagant or flashy dress. You don’t have an idea what type of black fabric it is, just that you would probably have to file for bankruptcy if it was damaged in any way.

The girls chatter away as they work diligently. But you can’t help but hear one name come up over and over again in their discussions.

“Gojo-sama”

“Gojo-sama”

It seems he was the talk of the evening. His name constantly flies around like air itself. You hear the girls as they whisper tidbits of questions to each other.

Will Gojo-sama find this to his liking? Will this be done in time for Gojo-sama’s arrival?

You found it annoying, to say the least. For an estate that was not even his own, he sure did have the spotlight.

You sit there, taking in the scenery of the large room. You do not talk nor stare for too long. But It is only when you feel a slight tug on your left wrist that you break your own silence. Your eyes snap to the girl below you.

“Leave it be.”

The sudden sound of your stern voice makes everyone turn to you. The girl below you fumbles to take off your bracelet meets your eyes, to her horror. Her eyes widen as you gaze down at her. She retreats her hands softly from your wrist as she looks up at you.

“It was a gift,” You say as you turn to face forward again. You feared you may have frightened the child. “I’d like to keep it on.”

The girl stands up swiftly and bows before walking away with a timid “Yes, madam.”

You turn your head to listen as two girls at the far end of the room converse about a necklace. More words begin to pop up, and this time it’s not a name.

Silver or gold? Silver or gold? Which did he request?

You listen as the two girls begin to fret. The sound of fear projects itself from their voices. They begin to banter nervously, and you start to hear jitters and cracks in their voices.

“Silver.”

The sound of the girls worrying is suddenly put to a stop by the sound of your voice. They turn to look at you slowly with fear written on their faces. After a few seconds of silence, one of the girls musters up the courage to speak up. “M-madam?” You can hear the crack in her voice as she holds one of the wide boxes containing one of the two necklaces

“Silver,” You repeat. “He most likely requested silver.” You loosen up your neck by rolling it around a few times as you sigh. The other girls that tend to you start to listen in. You continue as you throw your head back and look up at the decorated ceiling with a small grin.

“Perhaps you should give me gold instead, just to mess with him?” It rolls off your tongue like a question, but it was more of a joke to entertain yourself. But to the girls, it sounds like a request. The two girls are conflicted about what to do. They both stare at the necklaces with pursed lips. It takes a few minutes, but finally, one of the girls takes action as she closes one of the boxes and paces over to you.

Over time, a new word starts to bounce around your chambers, and it quickly became annoying.

Late. Late. He is late. He has yet to arrive. Gojo-sama is late.

You purse your lips. You had remembered the words he had said to you that night as you ate your inexpensive Chinese food from the city.

“An hour.”

He had said he would be here an hour after you had arrived yourself. Yet, when you asked for the time, it seemed to be forty-five minutes the past hour. You scoff.

Although you never thought it would be, there was surprisingly peace at such an irritable place. Part of you thought that maybe it was all planned out to be this way. Peaceful, so you wouldn’t become hostile.

You watched the Kyoto skyline slowly fade into a sunset. Bright baby blues turned into soft wisps of oranges and pinks that scattered the sky.

Your mind kept roaming — a different thought entering your head at every second. You wondered how the first battle of the Exchange Event had gone? Would it have been better if you had just stayed to watch instead? You remembered the way Gojo had gushed about the students this morning as you were still trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. You tried to listen attentively as he rambled on, but the sound of his voice and the pots and pans that he clanked as he rummaged through your kitchen slowly became muffled. Still, you continued to look at him as you sat at your kitchen island. His eyes were expressive and sincere as he continued to chatter. He seemed so engulfed in his student's accomplishments. It made a faint smile return to your face as you took a sip of your evening tea.

Your mind wandered to the kids. You knew food was to be served, but not what dishes. You were certain that whatever it was, Nobara and Yuji wouldn’t hesitate to dive in. You guessed that Megumi would probably enjoy the peaceful view of the Kyoto skyline that you had the pleasure to gaze upon.

Peace — it was still at the moment as you tried to calm yourself. Whatever had yet to come would put an end to that peacefulness.

But it seemed that peace would be interrupted quite sooner than you thought.

The dramatic squeak of iron hinges caught the attention of you and the girls that tidied up your suite. As double doors draw open you can hear the soft rhythmic tapping sound that jingles like an old toon.

“Did you know that there is not one liquor shop around here within a fifteen-mile radius?”

Gojo’s voice is loud and radiates across the gigantic room. His feet shuffle the tiled floors as he starts to come into view. He holds a generously sized bag in his left hand and a bright pink lollipop in the other. His shades cover his eyes and he continues to prance into the room. The way he upholds himself makes you want to believe that he’s as carefree as ever right now. But as you look at him through the balcony doors, you see past his facade and notice the slight look of irritability showing on his face. Gojo plops the sucker into his mouth as he struts further into the room, eyes roaming as he looks for you.

“I mean seriously,” He slurs through his lollipop. Gojo raises his hand in the air with one swift and obnoxious motion. “I had Ijichi driving all across Kyoto for this stuff.” He holds the bag in his hand up high, presenting it like it’s a freshly won prize.

You place down your tea and begin to stand up to make your way through the glass doors.

Gojo turns to one of the small girls that walk by. She has unfortunately fallen victim to his gaze and she starts to stare wide-eyed into his dark shades.

“But I mean, isn’t that what he’s paid for?” He blurts out to the young girl with raised brows; a wickedly snobby grin overtakes his face.

You stand at the entryway to the suite as you begin to stare down the man more closely. You scan over his body. He wears a nicely pressed white button-up shirt, covered by a navy blue dress vest with dark slacks to match.

Your awing and observations over Gojo’s newfound attire are cut short by the look that paints his face. He has found a new victim as he walks around the room. Gojo’s face shows shock and a hint of distaste as he looks down at another small girl.

He tilts his head forward and lowers his glasses to the bridge of his nose — his lips making an exaggerated frown.

“My God, you look depressed!”

You could have let the Kamo’s choose your fate right then and there. You hear the child’s heart start to race. Her blood rushes straight to her face as she begins to blush in embarrassment. The other girls start to slowly make their way closer to your side of the room with small steps. Filters were just nonexistent to him it seemed.

Gojo continues his journey venturing across the area. “I can assure you,” He lifts up his glasses so they fit properly again. “They did not look like that when I was growing u-“ He stops himself as he reaches into his bag. “Just…here, get well soon or something.” He pulls out a package of pudding and hands it to the girl. She stands there in silence as she looks at it; her heart still racing. Yet, Gojo heads forward with his journey.

“Ugh,” Gojo blurts out as he examines the place. His body spins, and his head wanders up and down.

“So much…red.” He studies the tiles, the walls, the drapes, and the furniture. “Tell the interior designer: more accent colors next time,” he calls out to no one in particular.

“You’re late.”

The sound of your voice makes Gojo’s wandering eyes look to meet yours as you begin to emerge from the patio. You catch the small smile that crosses his face—-his lollipop still in between his lips.

“Apologies, love,” Gojo slurs. “Take a break, will you?” His hand lifts up into the air, and he makes a motion for the girls to shoo. The sound of pattering feet floods the room. The girls dismiss themselves and flee the room quickly, one by one.

The door finally closes, and there is finally just the two of you.

Gojo’s hand makes its way to point at your collarbone. “Gold?” He questions.

“Gojo.” You call out, trying to prevent him from diverting the topic.

He ignores your warning and continues to speak as he looks at the necklace draped around your neck. “Why gold?”

“I wore it because I know you.”

“You know me?”

You nod. “I know you like silver more.”

“Ahh,” he breathes out. “So you did it out of spite.”

“I guess you could say that,” you shrug

Gojo smiles as he removes his hand. “That’s cute,” he says. “But silver does look great on you, honey.”

“Gojo,” you call out again. This time more sternly.

“Okay,” he says as he puts his hands up and surrenders. “I have a good reason, I promise.” His voice becomes low as he walks towards you, his eyes glued to the floor. You stand at one of the marble tables as you pour yourself a glass of wine.

“But will that reason be good enough, Satoru?” The call of his name followed by the slow pour of liquid filling your glass makes him lookup. He stares at your back, taking in your newfound attire. You’re angry. He can tell by how calm your voice is. Your voice was always calm and controlled, yes. But the slight difference in how you spoke confirms his suspicions.

You raise the glass to your lips. Instead of taking small sips of the fine wine before you, you begin to take a few gulps before placing the glass back down. You needed a buzz. Just something to take the edge off before dinner. You couldn’t help but think that Shoko was influencing your drinking habits now. If only there was something stronger in this goddamn place.

Your thoughts are out to a halt as you feel a hand on the small of your back. You don’t move as your eyes glance to your right. Another hand gently places a glass bottle on the sleek marble coffee table in front of you. You look down and read the label: Shochu. His fingertips leave the bottle slowly as he whispers a small, “Forgive me?” in your ear.

You take a deep breath and let it out all too quickly for your liking. You unwrap the top, open the bottle, and pour just enough for you to take a shot. Your head swings back slightly as you swallow. You place the glass back down and let out a sight.

“I’ll think about it.”

You didn’t know anyone here.

You didn’t care for anyone here either. Except for maybe the few maids and servants that tended you, and the man that sat beside you already shoving some sort of pastry down his throat. You didn’t care to know their names. You didn’t care to remember their faces. All you cared for was what they represented. Two forces that had disturbed the balance.

They were just two colors.

They had no significance to you. They didn’t deserve titles. They didn’t deserve respect. They didn’t deserve recognition.

They were just blurbs of colors.

Red and Blue.

You watch as the food starts to be served; the clanking of silverware and dishes being placed down and the shuffling of small feet irritates you. But the sound of all these girls’ hearts beating irritates you even more. They’re frantic. Blood pumping like crazy. Yet, the people before you were doing just fine. Not one frantic thump to be heard. Your eyes follow the girls as they place your meal in front of you. More hands come into view with dishes as they set the large table. You wonder if they have sent the Kamo kid somewhere else for the night.

“You’re thinking too much.” Gojo’s voice can barely be heard by the others due to the sound of the girls at work. His hand places his glass back down as he removes the residue of water with a quick lick of his lips. He doesn’t look at you; he just stares straight forward, watching the commotion.

“And you’re not?” You quip back. You can hear the faint sound of Gojo’s heart speed up in response. You glance over to him, your face still straight. Based on the way he was acting, it might’ve been a secret to the two clans at the table with you and the girls that scattered in a hurry, but it was no secret to you. The way his eyes had moved rapidly as the two of you sat down—studying and analyzing. How he had already begun to indulge in the sweets that he magically pulled out of that bag. Whether you liked it or not, you had been around Satoru Gojo for far too long to not notice his habits.

Gojo takes another sip from his water before he leans a bit to his left to get closer to your ear.

“I never said I wasn’t, dear.”

You say nothing and decide to just take a deep breath. Gojo doesn’t respond to your silence. Instead, he ushers one of the girls passing by to come over with a wave of his fingers. She stops abruptly upon request. Gojo turns to her and puts on a small smile before he speaks.

“Hi,” he says, practically cooing. “Keep this a bit close, will ya?” He hands her the glass bottle of Shochu.

“O-of course.” The young girl takes it without question and she begins to get back to her prior task. Not before Gojo stops her for a second time.

“Oh, and keep that close too.” His brows raise and he points to a cake being placed on the opposite end of the table by a small girl. The girl nods and gets back to work.

Plates silverware and more continue to be placed down. It all happens at once. Suddenly, there is no more clanking and sorting of utensils. There is no more shuffling of small feet. And there are no longer frightened heartbeats making their way to your ears. The girls are long gone now. Only a few remain. They hold beverages and pastries in hand and stand rigidly still. There was stillness. It made you uneasy.

Before you know it, the silence is put to a halt. But it is not by your title being called. Or by the people you expected. Instead, Gojo’s voice puts an end to the silence. You take a deep breath in and prepare yourself.

“Why the long faces everyone?” He calls out while gesturing over one of the girls to serve him a slice of cake. His entrée is moved to the side and a small plate of cinnamon sugar cake is placed before him. He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the small fork and cut into it.

“It should be nice having the fam all together again, yeah?” Gojo brings the fork to his mouth and quickly frowns at the taste. “After all,” He continues as he reaches for the glass canister labeled ‘powdered sugar’ in the center of the long table. “We’re here for a negotiation, are we not?” Gojo takes the small serving spoon and begins to shake the flakes across the top of his cake. He reaches for his fork once again and takes a bite; this time with his eyebrows raised in delight.

You hear all the heartbeats that surround you. Everyone is steady and calm, except for the few girls that stand behind you watching everything go down. You take a sip of your water as you look around.

Finally, someone from red speaks. They look Gojo in the eyes and begin their statement. “As you know, her abilities are closely related to those of the Kamo Cla-“

“Why are you looking at me?” The previous calmness that you once heard is completely gone. Hearts start to beat faster and eyes look at Gojo in confusion.

Gojo takes another bite from his cake. His brow raises as he chews and swallows. He looks the man who spoke in the eyes. “I’m not the one with the ability.” He takes another bite. “And I’m certainly not the one you guys have been feening over for years,” Gojo manages to muffle out. He finally finishes his bite and points to you with the end of his fork. “Don’t just look at me, look at the prize you’re after.”

Hearts begin to calm down except for the man that continues speaking.

“As you know, your abilities are closely related to those of the Kamo clan. Blood manipulation that is.”

Another one from red speaks. “Such strong cursed techniques need to have strong places to belong.”

“Please cut the sugar codding,” you call out. All eyes are on you know. You swore, toddlers were better at getting to the point that this. “We already came to this ‘understanding’ about this years ago. What is the difference now?”

They take no time to answer. “In order to inherit the Kamo name you must be wedded,” Someone from blue quickly cuts you off.

“Was that not the plan all along?” You question. “For me to have the Kamo name?” Eyes stare at you as you take a bite from your meal. They allow you to swallow and continue speaking. “Yet, there is no ring on my finger nor a wedding to be planned,” you sigh out.

“There must be an agreement to be added in order for such plans to be made.” A face from blue speaks out.

Both you and Gojo look up from your plates. It is silent now and none of the people around you look you in the eye. Their confidence has shifted so drastically that you begin to scan the table. It's odd. The silence is deafening, but it is also deafeningly loud at the same time. The sound of blood rushes to your ears. Their hearts beat erratically, except for a few.

An elderly man who you assume to be the ring leader of this whole shit show speaks up. But not before you see the crease between his eyebrows form. His eyes muster the confidence to relay his statement. He swallows. “In order for the agreement to remain as such, there must be a product of offspring included with being wedded.”

There are dead faces amongst the table. You hear the loud thumps of your heart and Gojo’s as the news finally gets to your brains. Your eyes meet the plate of food before you and your fingers begin to loosely lace themselves around your fork. Suddenly, your food looks very unappetizing.

Gojo places his fork down with a loud clank. Your eyes shift to the source of the noise. He blinks like he has something stuck in his eyes. A smile appears on his face. One that is filled with shock. He clicks his tongue and you see his adam’s apple bob up and down. “So you all want some…” He pauses as he quirks his brows. “kid?”

Silence.

“Shochu, please.” you choke out.

The girl to your left rushes over to fill your glass.

“No way!” Gojo gasps with an irritated smile across his lips. His hands ball up into a loose fist as he rubs his thumb and index fingers together as if a small marble is between them. “You guys are desperate.” You can hear the heartbeats of the clans speed up as he speaks. “Not only are you so jealous of a technique, that you want your name associated with it. But you're so desperate that you are willing to have a random curse user taint your family's pure bloodline.”

Gojo turns to you quickly with somber eyes. “No offense,” He tells you flatly.

“None taken, dear.” You say as you raise the glass to your lips. You swallow the burning liquid like it’s water at this point.

He returns to look back at the family of the night. “I’m sorry, but what happened to: ‘Only wanting techniques from our lineage.’ ” Gojo grabs the bottle from the girl and opens it—quickly pouring you another glass. You thank him with a raise of your now filled glass as he hands the bottle back to the girl.

“I honestly feel bad,” He continues. Gojo takes a quick forkful of cake into his mouth. “That Kamo kid? What use was he then?” He swallows but quickly takes another bite. “Such a great form of Blood Manipulation, and you all want to replace the kid right when it’s his time to shine.” Gojo rests his elbow on the table and leans on his hand. “Shame.”

A man from blue raises his voice. “This is not our concern, Satoru.”

Gojo opens his mouth to speak, ready to reek more havoc. You tap his thigh below the table as gently as you can. His eyes look down for a split second, then he returns to his original position with a heavy sigh. His back hits the back of the chair and he takes a deep breath in.

You were starting to rethink if you should even drink this glass. You feel nauseous, but it’s definitely not from the alcohol.

The Kamo’s return to the spotlight. “Such offspring will be produced until there is a replica of the Doctor’s technique.”

Your face does not change from its dead expression as you chug the entire glass with one gulp. Nope. Nevermind. You’ll stick to the alcohol.

Gojo stays quiet and you mentally thank him for not opening his mouth—with the exception of the cake he puts in it and chews aggressively with his fist on the table.

You guess that glass did the trick because now your mind is finally able to fully comprehend what had just occurred. God, were you thankful to Shoko for practically leveling up your alcohol tolerance all those years ago.

It all made sense now. The Kamo’s needed you, yes. But they did not need you. No. You were not raised in such a household. You had your own thoughts. Your own beliefs. Your own morals. You were already your own being. You would praise Gojo right now if you could. How he was able to break free from such teachings, you don’t know how? But you were right. They did not need you. They needed someone they could force-feed. Someone that they could get inside their brain. They needed a child—and they needed a male.

You are refocused back to the conversation as someone from Kamo's side speaks.

“Now, for such things to occur, we would like to confirm all the abilities associated with your technique.”

Your mind goes back into a faded state as they begin to list the details one by one. Each time you hear a pause you automatically respond with a low but audible “Yes.”

You are brought back to reality when another question arises.

“And your domain?”

You open your mouth to speak but are quickly overpowered by a familiar voice.

“Not fully developed yet,” Gojo responds as he ushers one of the girls over to serve more cake.

Your eyes quickly land on his profile. You say nothing and begin to look in front of you once again as you purse your lips. Your eyes glance over to one of the ends of the table. There you see someone scribbling away everything you just confirmed. You notice Gojo’s eyes as they now stare at the other end of the table towards his own family and their representatives.

“Any more abilities?”

“Why are you all here?” Gojo blurts out.

The table becomes silent once again. There is an even louder sound of blood now as hearts beat in fright from the Gojo’s question.

“Excuse me?”

“You say it’s none of our concern, but yet the families’ all here!” He exclaims with a wide smile on his face.

The atmosphere becomes even tenser; even thicker. It makes your throat close up.

“I mean, we’re already involved by being here, are we not?” Gojo waves his fork around in the air as he continues speaking his declaration. “I’ve been wondering ever since I got your fancy Lil invitation: What do the Gojo’s have to gain from this?” You notice the way he says his own name. Like doesn’t want it. Like it doesn’t belong to him.

“And it finally clicked!” His fork now points in the air as his eyebrows raise up high. “One bloodline to be tainted in exchange for yours to stay pure.”

Smirks and raises his fork to point. “So, whatcha all think about me and doc, aye?”

“A pretty good catch if I do say so myself” Gojo gently plays with a strand of your hair that’s close to your face. You glance at him quickly and he gives you a barely visible smile. “Say? What little spies have you had lurking around?”

Gojo suddenly turns away to his side and his hands raise to his face. “Ugh, I’m so embarrassed.” He takes a peak above his hands to look around the table. “What scandalous things have you had a peek at?” The cockiness exudes off of him like an absolutely horrendous gas bomb. You just roll your eyes.

“Silence huh?” he frowns as he puts his hands down. If only he knew there was no silence. There were hearts thumping in frustration at his words.

Gojo sighs. “If you’re going to object, at least do it properly.”

They certainly take him up on the offer.
One voice after another begins to shout. Some even stand up as they try to make their arguments. Nothing but chaos surrounds you now. The uproar is irritating but entertaining nonetheless.

They’re absolutely frantic. Kamos, Gojos, Red and Blues. They continue to shout. Their comments are shot out like bullets. Some of them are aimed at Gojo, and others at you.

“So it is true?”

“You have decided to associate with such a woman?”

“You will never have nor make a name for yourself.”

“The Gojo name will be tarnished.”

The silence is no more. The shouts are reduced to loud discussion filled with anger. They no longer pay attention to the two of you as they talk amongst themselves, enraged by such news.

Gojo turns to you. “What does my breath smell like?”

The clans pay no attention to your conversation as they continue to banter. You look at him with a deadpan look but ultimately give in and lean closer to him. He leans forward to your face and lightly sends a few breaths your way. It’s sweet, as to be expected.

“Cinnamon.” You reply.

He tilts his head and looks you in the eyes. “Do you like cinnamon?”

You shrug at first. It wasn’t the greatest spice in the world, but you guessed it was high on your list. You look him in the eye and then nonchalantly nod in response.

“Good.”

It all happens too fast for your mind to register. You can feel Gojo’s fingers trail from your chin to your jaw. And the next thing you know, you can taste the subtle sweetness of cinnamon on your tongue. You feel your heartbeat rise only just a fraction at the sudden contact. His lips are still just as soft as before and they move with just as much skill as you remember. It’s a light and simple kiss, but it feels like it lasts forever for all the right and wrong reasons. You can hear the loud thumps of hearts and blood pumping. You can hear the small gasps—the dropping of silverware. All eyes are on you both.

Suddenly, there is a release and your mind goes blank. You look at him, and he at you. His thumb meets your bottom lip as he swipes across it. He smiles softly, but it’s filled with frustration. You look at him as he turns himself to face the table with a clap of his hands. This was a reaction he liked.

“The family reunion was nice.” Gojo shrugs. “But who knows? Maybe there is a different wedding that needs to be planned.”

A small girl creeps up behind you, Her frame is barely noticeable. Her hand reaches to pour your glass. You look at the liquid slushes around in the glass. She tries to return her hand, but you stop her with a light tap on her wrist. She freezes, her face frightened a bit by your actions. You reach for the bottle with your other hand and grab it; placing it on the table in front of you.

“Just…keep it here at this point.”

“A fool?” Your voice is low but calm. Your thumb gently caresses the side of his cheek. He sits down in a beautifully upholstered chair. His arms loosely hold on to the armrest as he looks up at you with a foxishly sly grin. You stand before him, in between his knees. Your eyes wander across his face. His eyes, his lashes, his lips. “Is a fool what you take me for, Satoru?” you continue with a hiss.

You see the noticeable spark that emits in his eyes at the sound of his name. Your thumb still skims over his soft skin. His smile grows.

“Not once have I ever questioned your intelligence, my dear.”

You sigh as you continue to look into his eyes. “Do you see yourself as a fool?” you say. Your voice is genuine.

Gojo begins to sigh inward, already sensing the scorning that was soon to be his. His neck rolls in a few circles before he looks up at you once again. He decides to test his luck tonight by being a smartass.

“I refuse to believe that you would fall for an unintelligent man. So, I certainly would like to believe that I am.” He raises his brows with a small grin. That is until he feels the movement of your thumb come to a stop and the look of your frustration finally settles in for him

You purse your lips and your hand slips away from his cheeks—your fingertips and Gojo’s skin yearning for the sensation back. His head begins to hang slightly as he closes his eyes and places his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t have a domain yet?”

The question leaves your tongue with such gentleness as you turn your back to him and begin to walk to another chair. You sit down with your legs crossed and begin to take off your shoes. The question doesn’t make Gojo flinch. But you hear his heart skip a beat.

Once off, you place the heels neatly to the right of the chair and begin to stand up to walk to the male once again; his head raising as you approach. Your left hand grabs the armrest as you bend over to look him in the eyes.

“You make me look weak.”

His hand drags down from his eyes to his lips and linger there. “You’re safer if they think you’re weak.” His voice is calm and gentle with just a hint of irritability. Not an ounce of aggression. “It gives us more time.”

“More time?” You stand straight quickly as your brows furrow in anger. “You should have thought about time before you decided to kiss and tell, Satoru.”

“It was on impulse.” He snaps.

“Impulse?” Your face contorts into something more fierce.

“I got frustrated.”

“And you don’t think I was?” You can feel your hearing becoming even more sensitive. You start to hear the faint heartbeats of the girls that pass the halls. You both were frustrated at that dinner table. Frustrated. Tired. Angered. The list went on. But never had you thought he would make such a stupid decision. You walk away from him and head to a table to pour yourself a glass of wine.

“You’re usually smarter than this,” you say as you twist the opener. A ‘pop’ is followed not long after.

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” you snap. You take a small sip before wincing at the abruptly sweet taste. You place the glass down and begin to walk to the patio to get some air.

You needed to calm down. Your mind was racing with thoughts, and the added noise of rushing blood was not helping. You sit down on a long bench the faces the Kyoto night sky. The rural area stretched for miles, but at the edge of the scattered trees and brush, you could see the city lights twinkle. The view is not that much different from Tokyo's city lights.

The gentle breezes that you felt earlier in the day had turned into more powerful ones. The chill in the air is more prominent than before. Fall was coming; soon after that, winter. You take a deep breath in, trying to clear your mind from the comotional dinner not too long ago. Your hands rest in your lap as you fiddle away with your fingers; the Kyoto skyline serving as a distraction.

“Like it?”

Your head turns away from the calming lights. You guess some of your nerves have gone away since you hadn't heard his heartbeat get closer. You watch as Gojo takes a few steps forward. Your eyes look back at the city that is miles away.

“Yeah, I do,” you say quietly.

You hear him hum as he stands behind you. His hand makes its way to your shoulder as he bends down to get closer you your ear. “Maybe, it’s time for a new house.” His statement comes out more like a question.

You shake your head. “I like my home.”

Gojo moves to the right of you and takes a seat slowly. “Never said you didn't.”

You smile. “I’m not as extravagant as you.” Neither of you look at each other. Just the skyline and the stars above.

He shakes his head and sighs. “It’s taking me longer than I expected to change your taste.”

“I doubt you ever will,” you say.

You both continue to look out at the terrain ahead. There is peaceful silence between the two of you. You heart starts to speed up as you prepare your thoughts and you take a deep breath in.

“I’m scared, Satoru.” His head turns to look at you–his eyes study your face conscientiously. You do not dare to look at him. You dread that the words ever left your mouth. It felt like you had punched yourself in the gut; just one more final blow to complete a hectic night. It was childish really. How admitting such simple words made you feel like this.You had too much pride. But what you said was the truth. You were scared. Scared of what the future might hold. Scared of how far the higher ups would go to make your life even harder. Scared of what was not written; what was not guaranteed.

You continue to look out afar. Then, you finally hear his voice again. “What I did was…” There is a long pause as he returns his gaze to the skyline. “Selfish,” he finishes. His word choice makes you look at him. His glasses hang on the bridge of his nose as he stares forward.

Truth be told, Gojo was scared. He had never heard you say those words out loud before. Sure, at times he would notice how you played with your fingernails, or how you sometimes picked and bit at your lip. But he had never heard you say it out loud. You always seemed so sure of yourself. If you had doubts you got through them. But this? This was new.

Gojo’s hand grabs your wrist. His eyes skim over the jewels that hang from it. His fingers crawl up your wrist, his touches light as a feather. Slowly they begin to meet the palm of your hand and then meet your own fingers. Your fingers interlock with each other’s and small circles are drawn lightly on your skin by his thumb.The way that your skin meets each other signifies the apology you were both planning on giving. However, you think you like this a bit more.

You sigh a bit as Gojo’s hand returns back to your wrist. “You need to think about your own name.” Gojo shakes off your words as admires your wrist decorated in his gift. “I’m being serious, Satoru.”

“And I’m being serious when I ask: How the hell are you not hammered?” As he plays with the jewelry you begin to relax. His touches are gentle but confident. You no longer hear the sound of pumping hearts from the hallway. Instead, you only hear the two of yours.

You turn away to look at the bottle beside you; a look of worry shows across your face. “Ieiri date nights,” you reply.

He responds with a low hum as he continues to look at your wrist.

“I think I could have gotten alcohol poisoning if I drank one more glass.” Your head snaps to look at him–your brows furrowing with annoyance. “You had me on edge.”

“Ohh” he coos. “But wasn't it so fun though?”

Your head shakes and you let out a small scoff. “No. No, it was not.”

“Awww,” he whines. His hand grasps yours more tightly this time. “Were my lips chapped? Is that why?” A grin follows his questions.

“No,” you whisper out.

“Then did you at least enjoy it?”

You quirk your head to the side. “And if I said I didn't?” You say with a smirk.

“Agh!” Gojo’s hands shoot straight up to his heart. His legs flail around just a bit before he lets his head sag. “That’s a fatal blow, doc”

You smile a bit before looking down. “I just know you don’t like alcohol.”

He looks at you in confusion. His brows quirking up in a way that makes a small strand of his hair fall down over his forehead.

You let out a sigh as you turn to him. “So my breath must have been unbearable.” You wince at the thought and look at him with furrowed brows. A smile grows on his face and he lets out a laugh that can be heard from inside the suite.

“I mean seriously. You could have given me a mint or something.”

Chapter Text

The low hum of the radio served as a comfortable noise. Ijichi’s steady hand guided the wheel, regardless of the untimely hour. With hooded eyelids, he repeatedly tapped his finger to the beat of the pop song.

“These are weak, Ijichi.” Gojo doesn’t look up as he rummages through the front seat pocket like a caveman. His once gelled down hair is now ruffled in an unruly mess; its usual mess.

Ijichi jumps at the sound of Gojo’s voice. “E-excuse me, sir?”

“Your sweet supply is weak,” Gojo replies. He picks up a small package of something and closely examines it. “Shoko has better,” he says under his breath.

Gojo squints some more at the package of candy and quickly hands it to you, then goes back to his scavenger hunt. They’re gummies. You rip the package open and begin to eat them quietly.

“Hey, where are those hard candies, Ijichi?” Gojo says as he continues to rummage.

“The American ones…Sir?

“No, no, no,” Gojo shakes his head as he looks towards the driver’s seat. “The…the small ones, with the stars!”

“Kon…peito?

With a snap of his fingers, Gojo begins to smile. “Konpeito! Yea, where are those?”

“I’m afraid you ate all of those, Sir.”

There’s silence for mere seconds, and Gojo’s blind rummaging is stopped as he leans back into his seat. His head hits the headrest, and he closes his eyes. Slowly, a smile forms on his lips as he feels something touching them lightly.

“Open.”

He opens his mouth, eyes still closed, and in plops a gummy. As he begins to chew, he opens. He looks to his right to see you leaning over the middle seat.

“Those are just as good, you know,” You say.

Gojo swallows and hums to himself. “A bit too bland for me, but enjoyable,” He says with a smile.

You return to sit in your seat properly and let your eyes close. You both were tired. The adrenaline from dinner had finally worn down, and it left you both with exhaustion. Gojo’s way of dealing with it was to eat an abnormal amount of sweets, but yours was just to sit back and think over all that had happened.

Your hands were folded neatly in your lap. There has been comfortable silence between the two of you for the past thirty minutes. You had your suspicions that Gojo had dozed off until he made a proposal.

“Let’s take off a week.”

Your eyes blink open. Silence.

“Go overseas for a while.”

“Gojo”

“A day, take a short excursion to Mount Fuji.”

You turn your head to look at him and find him desperately staring at you, his body slightly leaned over. You sigh out. “You think the higher-ups would allow that? Especially after tonight?”

“I could make them,” he’s quick to respond.

You turn your head to look at your hands. “You know my schedule; you should be more aware of yours too.” You close your eyes and breathe in, your shoulders releasing some tension. “Our work doesn’t allow such leisure time, Satoru.” Your left-hand searches for comfort as you gently fiddle with the hem of your dress.

There’s silence once again. This time it’s not comfortable. But instead filled with some type of grief. A lost opportunity floating in the air. Oh, how it would be nice to get away from here. Just for a moment. You shuffle in your seat as Gojo rubs his thighs.

Then, the silence is broken again as Gojo turns to you—his legs crossed. This time it is not broken by words but a gesture. A warm hand reaches for yours, and your fidgeting comes to a halt. Finger after finger, your hands begin to intertwine with his. He knows. He knows there’s never enough time. Never enough calmness. Never a moment when higher-ups are not scoping you out. So, you both sit there with nothing but wondering thoughts of—what if?

He didn’t sleep last night.

Not for long anyways. He wouldn’t tell you that, though. He knows you would have scolded him for it, even though your own sleep schedule isn’t any better. You would have forced him to go to bed early tonight. But what was the point of a sleepover if the lights were out early?

He didn’t regret staying up—watching over you as you slept. It was quite lovely actually. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how creepy it is. He wouldn’t lie to himself to make himself feel better about it, though. He truly enjoyed it. Looking at your sleep, how peaceful you looked even when exhaustion hit you in the face.

He guesses he developed this habit over time. But it became more prevalent after you started working at the school. It would be on nights when you would come back from a mission tired and bloodstained. The anemia would begin to kick in, and you would take enough iron supplements to poison the average person. Sometimes, you would go to work the next day like nothing ever happened—like your body wasn’t exhausted from the prior mission.

Those. Yes, those were the times when you would crash into your bed. You would tell him to wake you up so you could start your day, regardless if it was the weekend or not. Your self-set alarms hadn’t worked due to your stubbornness.

He did it a few times. Would wake you at the time you would tell him. In return, you would take the long walk across the hospital campus to stop by the outpatient clinic and pick up a few lollipops. He remembers telling you that there was something special about the taste of those specific ones–something rare. They were the particular kind that was only distributed to hospitals. He had only learned this after going to every sweet shop in Tokyo to find them. Truly rare.

The system would repeat, night after night, week after week. That was his one job. An agreement was made between the two of you. A simple walk into your home to wake you. Along with the occasional moseying around your house for a few hours. Maybe it was a bit selfish, but the lollipops were good pay, and that was his only job. So he would do it.

That is until one day, he didn’t.

One day, he decided not to wake you from your slumber. One day, he decided not to be your own personal alarm clock. One day, he allowed his covered eyes to roam away from his phone screen and steal a look at your relaxed figure beneath the thick covers.

But now, in this very moment, he no longer feels like a child that takes a cookie from the jar when no one is looking. This. This right here he’s allowed to do. For the first time, he’s allowed to enjoy it when your fingers glide from his cheek to his lips. He’s allowed to not feel guilty when your hands roam on his bare chest—nails leaving the most delicate of scratches. He’s allowed to love it when you straddle him on the bed and take all the air out of his lungs as both of your lips clash together. He’s allowed to grab your waist, your thighs, your ass. He’s allowed to love every second of this. Why? Because it’s out. It’s finally all out. Satoru Gojo may or may not love somebody. And just five minutes ago was the moment you both realized there was no secret anymore. There was no more withdrawing from touches or hiding away. Important people knew, and it would be a matter of time before the people actually crucial to the both of you knew. So right now, in Satoru Gojo’s mind, he is allowed to let out a small moan when your hand reaches for and pulls his hair. He’s allowed to smile against your lips when he notices how hard the two of you are breathing just from this.

And then it all comes to a stop.

And that’s when Satoru Gojo realizes he’s allowed to be more than just goddamn pissed off when his time with you is interrupted by the ring of a fucking cell phone.

With heavy breaths, he slowly begins to peel away from you. He watches as your hands remove themselves from his hair and get replaced on your lips. There’s a sigh between his attempt to catch his breath before he goes for the ringtone that buzzes in his ear.

With a small beep, one, “Hello… dear friend!” and three sentences from the other line, Gojo realizes that, yes, he is allowed to do all this!

But not without repercussions.

“You seem stressed.”

The clank of glasses followed by slow pours fills the room as you sit on the gray couch and cross your legs.

“Gee, I wonder why,” you mutter out.

Shoko lets a low snicker come out as she finishes pouring her own glass of wine, making sure to give herself a little extra. She walks over to you and gives you your glass. “Relax a little.” She walks over to her own chair and takes a seat.

You sink into the couch and take the glass but only eye the liquid as you swirl it around. Relax. Shoko’s flat was relaxing to be in. It was decorated with dark and muted tones. The bottles of alcohol that neatly decorated the countertops felt like another personal touch. It was messy but only to the extent where it felt lived in. A faint smell of smoke lingered from her cig breaks outside.The only way you could describe it was that it simply felt like Shoko. You remember all the times you spent here to get away from it all over the years. You could relax here, but there’s no time for that now.

You reached over and sat the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Shoko gives you a look of confusion as she swallows her first gulp of liquor.

“I have to drive, remember?” You say as you flip your wrist and check your watch. “And I should be leaving now if I’m being honest.”

She hums as she takes her phone out of her pocket. “Ijichi can drive you.”

“It’s too late; I don’t wanna bother him.”

“Let’s test it out.”

Shoko’s fingers start to tap away until she finally presses send. And following her message, there is an immediate response.

You shake your head as a worried smile comes across your face. Everyone knew of the minor crush Ijichi had on her. She seemed completely oblivious to the special behavior she had received from him. You bet if it were Satoru, the assistant would have pretended to not see the message this late at night.

She stares at the phone. Her dark circles become more prominent, illuminated by the bright phone screen.

“He’ll be here in 10,” she says smugly.

Who are you kidding? She totally knew.

“Don’t abuse your power like that,” you say as you look up at her. Embarrassment floods onto your face.

“Eh, it helps you out, doesn’t it?” Another grin forms on her face.

You reach for your glass and take a sip and let the plush sofa swallow you. Ten minutes you guess.

Shoko crosses her legs. “How are you these days?”

You glance at her as you rub the bridge of your nose.

“Tired.”

She nods her head in agreement. “Me too,” she whispers quietly through her glass. “I would come over at ungodly hours, but I’m afraid I’ll be almost charged with breaking and entering like Satoru,” She laughs.

It was when you first gave Gojo the keys to your house. You were too drowsy to realize it was him. And too drowsy to realize the intruder knew the passcode to your alarm system. You were so scared that you had even taken the pocket knife from your nightstand and cut your vein open to start your technique. Now it’s a story for shits and giggles.

“That was an accident,” you smile while taking a drink.

“Sure,” she drags out as she rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve wondered if I could murder that fucker too.” You laugh. The two of you talk for what seems like more than ten minutes about work, life, the school and more. Your game of catchup with Shoko comes to an end when you get a text from Ijichi saying that he is outside.

“One more thing!” Shoko shouts before she runs to her bedroom to get something. You check your watch for the time and wait patiently for her, you hope Ijichi will be just as patient with you. When she comes out, her hands are behind her back as she walks towards you slowly. When she is only a few inches from your face she quickly puts something in between your lips with her two fingers.

After you look down at your lips you give her a deadpan look.

“For your troubles.” She smiles.

“You know I don’t smoke,” you muffle out.

Shoko pulls out the tiny baggy from around her back; in it are two more cigarettes. “With all that's been going on, you might need these sometime soon.” She removes the cigarette from your mouth, puts it in the bag and hands it to you before she turns around and walks to her kitchen. She pours a shot of mystery liquid and quickly makes her way over to you. She holds the shot glass out to you. “This should hold you over.” You hesitate, but before you know it your mouth is in flames for a few short seconds.

“Thanks.” You smile as you hand the glass back to her.

“Be safe.” Shoko’s free hand makes its way to yours as she looks you in the eye. Her eyes filled with a small ounce of worry. Your hands mend tightly as you give her a smile of reassurance.

“I will be.”

You stand amongst cowards once again. Oh, how many times have you done this? How many times have you stood in front of these “Superiors” too cowardly to reveal their faces to you?

They stand around you like vultures. Except, you’re not the dead one. Not yet, at least.

You wish that the silence was loud, but it’s not. The constant movement of blood thumping of hearts overrides the defending silence. Your hands dangle down, clasped together as you patiently but reluctantly wait.

There’s a call…of your name? Yet, you’ve never heard the “title” before.

“Doctor Gojo.”

A wrinkle of confusion forms between your brows, and your head tilts ever so slightly to the right. So much confidence in the calling of your so-called “name” that you choke back a laugh.

“I appreciate your generosity with such….” There’s a pause as you try to recollect yourself. “-titles.” You finish. There’s a hint of mischief in your voice as you continue. “I did not realize that Mr. Gojo went to medical school.”

Silence.

The same voice tries again. You guess the keyword there is “tries” because they do not succeed.

“Ms. Gojo,” rings in your ears with just as much confidence as before.

Your hand comes to your chin as you cock your eyebrows and pretend to think to yourself. You raise your left hand and begin to rub your ring finger. “Mhh, my finger is feeling a bit bare, don’t you think?”

Silence once again.

Then, like music to your ears, your proper surname is followed by your appropriate title. You nod silently as the elder continues. “You are to go on a mission tomorrow,” the voice croaks out.

You grumble. “So I’ve heard.”

“Then we will spare you the details.” There’s been an alteration to this assignment.” You look up from your hands and begin to fully pay attention to the voice behind the screen.

“You’ll no longer be handling this mission alone. Instead, it will be with the first year Megumi Fushiguro.”

Your breath hitches, and the heels of your shoes begin to shuffle forward on the ground. “With all due respect….” Your body begins to feel hot, and you can start to hear your own heartbeat increase by the second. For now, you’ll have to fake this so-called respect of yours. “The mission details specified that a grade one sorcerer was required.”

“And that is exactly what the mission will have: a grade one sorcerer. Only one is required. You are the one.” There is an uncomfortable silence for just mere seconds before the voice starts again. And in those short seconds, your blood begins to boil. “We are sure that having the extra help should be more than welcomed by yo-”

“Will that be all?” Your voice is stern as you begin to jingle the dangling jewels on your wrist, trying to find a bit of comfort. There is an awkward silence, and you can feel the distaste that your question has left these cowards with. So in return, you pivot on your heel and start to walk to the grand doors; that is, before you hear the call of your name.

“It has come to our knowledge that one of your patients under your team’s care has unfortunately passed away,” Your throat starts to feel drier than a desert, and your lips form into a line of fury. “Our condolences.” You start to consider giving your obligatory thank you, but whatever the slim chance of that happening gets thrown out the window as you hear the next words leave the lips of the higher up. “Do not, however, let your…fits of emotion affect your ability to complete your missions.”

And with that, you lick your lips and continue to walk, your heels clicking on the ground in response. And once you are out of the suffocating space, you take a deep breath of the summer air with a chill in the breeze. Your hand fishes in your back pocket and pulls out one of the gifts from Shoko, followed by your own lighter. You take a long hard look at the cigarette, hesitation in your eyes, ultimately deciding to put it away as you walk down the stone stairs.

Your eyes are closed as you listen to the hum of Ijichi’s car going down the country roads of Tokyo. Your mind starts to race once again, conjuring up ways and solutions to your newfound companion joining you on your future mission. This was most likely a setup, no doubt about it. You would bet your hand that Megumi already knew about it, and you’re certain that if you outright asked him to just stay at the school grounds, he would say no. A stubborn boy he was.

You lean your head back on the headrest and continue to relax your eyes, but you interrupt your own thoughts to ask a question.

“Ijichi, what’s on your mind?”

You watch as Ijichi jumps in his seat at the sudden attention. He eyes you in the backseat through his rearview mirror. “Erm, uh, may I ask why?”

“Your blood is running rampant around your body. It’s quite unpleasant to the ear.”

Ijichi begins to apologize profusely, but you refuse as you begin to hear his heart rate increase from the interaction. “What did he say to you?” You begin to inquire. There is a long pause before Ijichi builds up the courage to tell you.

“That if I crash this car with you in it, he’ll make sure I die with you.”

You begin to chuckle to yourself, making Ijichi give you an absolutely horrified look through the mirror. “Hey, I might not die. Maybe I’ll only break a leg or two,” you smile. “Then you’ll only have to get your legs broken.” Another look of horror shows on his face as he laughs nervously.

“Jokes Ijichi. He likes to joke with you.”

Ijichi continues to laugh off his fear as he grips the steering wheel. “Yes, jokes.” Just then, your phone begins to ding with a notification.

Got burgers tonight

Hurry before I decide to take a bite of urs

And with that message, your mind begins to wander. Would there ever be a time when things were allowed to be normal? You didn’t want refuge from the storm; you wanted the storm to go away–to stop. So, for now, you will hope for the day when getting hamburgers was not your only way to feel that things were “normal.”

Chapter Text

“So…it’s like a contract thing.”

Your fork picks and pries at the pancakes on your plate. You hoped that the jumbled plate in front of you was convincing enough to look eaten. This was the first time you brought him here. A dine-in restaurant that served traditional Western breakfast. From the mountain of syrup on his plate, it seemed he liked it here. You tilt your head, “Mhm, I guess so.”

He quickly takes a bite of pancakes from his fork. “With… yourself?” He looks up at you through his eyelashes, his glasses hanging on the edge of his nose.

You temporarily stop playing with the food on your plate to meet his gaze. There’s a moment of silence before you answer, “Sure,” with a smile.

“Sure?” His face contorts into more of a teasing look than a confused one.

“Yes. Sure.”

Gojo quickly takes off his glasses to fold them neatly on the table. His hands gesture to you with open palms and an extravagant motion. “And- and you!” He stampers as he folds his arms to his chest. “Your…blood.” He hesitates as if he feels that it’s a touchy word to say to you.

You steal a blueberry from his side dish of fruits. “It’s both solid and liquid, but neither solid nor liquid,” you say, plopping the blueberry in your mouth.

You see the look of confusion on his face. It fades quickly though into curiosity. “So you’ve studied it.” It’s a statement rather than a question.

You look down at your plate. The fried egg you ordered could now be mistaken for scrambled from how much you’ve been messing around with it. “I’ve tried,” you sigh, placing your elbow on the table. “The only medical explanation is potassium.” You stop your explanation there, not wanting to bore the man.

“And was it that?”

You’re taken aback by his interest. But you don’t let the look of surprise linger on your face for too long. “Uh…well…no.” Your voice sounds defeated. “If I had that much potassium in my body I would have died from the world's worst case of hyperkalemia. And from all the labs it seems I have blood just like everyone else.”

His hand now holds up his chin as he leans on the table. You rub your arm slowly. “I don’t know. Just some magic shit I guess.”

A smile crosses his face as he glances over you. Down and then up.

“How fascinating.”

Frightened.

Nervous.

Nauseous . . .?

Megumi tried to pinpoint the feelings that had grown inside him over the past forty-five minutes.

The two of you had been fighting off Grade Two and Three curses. And by “the two of you” he meant mostly himself. “It’s practice,” you had said to him. Not that he didn’t agree, but he had wondered what fighting alongside you instead of against you would be like. Megumi felt a bit frustrated about this whole predicament actually. He had been arranged to be on this mission last minute. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe this mission meant that he’d be climbing the ranks soon.

But instead, he was fighting off weak curses that didn’t even compare to his 1-on-1 training with Gojo; all while you pretended to watch and analyze him. It seemed that your mind was elsewhere the entire time. You scanned the trees and listened to birds. You did everything except look at him. He didn’t know why it made him feel some type of way, but it did. Why did the higher-ups put him on a mission when you could have easily handled it yourself? Why was he even here? Was this even practice, if you weren't there to see?

All of these questions flooded Megumi’s head as he tore down these curses with his shikigami and fist.

That was until a first-grade curse tried to maul him.

It had happened in a flash—too fast for him to comprehend all that occurred. One moment you were on the sidelines, and the next you were holding back a curse four times your size away from his fallen frame.

He had watched as you kicked the curse just far enough distance for you to flip out your switchblade and stab it through your wrist. His mouth was left agape as his eyes trailed the blade that you slid up your forearm.

“What are you-!?”

His shouts of pure fright and terror were put to a halt by the curse’s charge toward you. There was blood. So much blood. But the blood extended, morphed, or changed somehow? It was all too familiar. And that’s when Megumi remembers the stinging feeling of a bloodied arrow grazing his cheek. That is when the puzzle pieces started to slowly piece themselves together in his brain.

So now Megumi silently walked beside you as you both stroll through the natural trail of the forest; his steps not quite as confident as yours anymore. With a sulking head, he traveled behind you. His eyes watching your every move. That is when your strides began to slow down as you turned to face him.

You held out your arm for him to see. “I’m okay, Megs. See?” He watched as your index and middle finger ran across your skin gently. The large gouge in your forearm had now shrunk down in size. It still looked like a cut to be concerned about, but definitely an improvement from the blood ritual that was earlier on.

“I… know you are.”

You stopped in your tracks as your looked at him. His eyes met yours due to the sudden stop. “You can’t lie to me, remember?”

Shit. He had forgotten about that. Whatever that was supposed to be. He sighed with furrowed brows, still astonished from the now smaller slash in your arm. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he says. His voice was just a little over a whisper.

You put your arm down at your side and smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you sigh. There’s a look of sadness on your face as you continue to walk again. A look that he doesn’t understand. “But I hope with how things are going now…that will change.”

He doesn’t know what the hell that means, but he decides to just follow you without question.

It’s a while before you speak to each other again. The two of you digest the natural sounds of nature as you walk. There’s still a Grade One curse out in these woods that you’re looking out for. And after that prior incident Megumi is on much higher alert.

You break the silence first. But it's with an apology out of all things. A tender, “I’m sorry,” leaves your lips. There’s more silence, followed by the stuttering of what sounds like a, “What?” from Megumi.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about Itadori.”

Oh

It all comes back to Megumi at once. The look of haziness in Itadori’s eyes. The way his face didn’t quite look like his own. The gaping hole in his chest. How Kugisaki’s eyes filled with tears on those steps that day. And how he had given her the first hug he had had in a while to try and comfort her — to try to comfort himself.

“I’m sure you and Gojo had your reasons.”

You look at him with worry in your eyes, but also with a sense of relief. “Yes…we did.”

It was for the better. That is what Megumi tells himself. He also reminds himself that he is not crazy and that he definitely saw Itadori’s soulless body lying before him. For goodness sake, his heart was out of his chest. He knows that not even Shoko could fix that kind of wound if you can even call it that.

Megumi decides to try and lighten your somber words, “He…he’s acting his usual self. He’s the same old Itadori.”

You smile and turn to look at Megumi. When did he get so tall? “I’m glad. I’m sure he got tired of only training with me and watching movies with Gojo.”

Megumi hums. That’s how. It was true that Itadori was the same. He still made jokes and tried to long jump over puddles when it rained. But he seemed different. He was stronger, more controlled. Nobara had given him a knowing look when they had both seen Itadori again for the first time. His cursed energy was stronger, intimidating even.

“That makes sense.”

Your brow quirks up as you both continue walking. “How come?”

“Well Itadori’s cursed energy looks strong-”

Your hand reaches to quickly cover Megumi’s mouth. “Shhh.” You shush him so quietly that it sounds like whistles of the wind instead of your voice.

Silence.

Only Megumi’s eyes move to look at your face. Your eyes are focused ahead and your brows knitted in concentration. He looks again towards the dim woods to maybe get a peek at what you're looking for. The sun is setting, and he can’t see much due to how thick the trees are.

“Megumi.”

Your voice was low and serious. His eyes tore away from the dark path to look at you. He had never heard you sound like this before. It was nerve-racking.

You turned towards him carefully, like he was a butterfly you were wary of scaring away. You clasped your hands together. “I need you to go back to the school.” He stared at you in confusion.

“Why-“

Megumi snaps his head to the left. He feels it now. the power, the energy radiating less than a mile away. Of course, you had sensed it first. But something is off. This doesn't feel like a First Grade curse. It's stronger

You repeat yourself. This time you say his name a bit louder, a bit fiercer. It reminds him of the time his favorite English teacher scolded him once. It stings him.

“I’m not leaving you. This is our mission.” His brows furrow as he throws his hand toward the direction of the energy.

You take a deep breath in. If only he knew. You purse your lips together as you clasp your hands towards your mouth; your mind in deep concentration.

“When you wake up, find Shoko.”

Megumi grits his teeth. He can already feel the fear moving down his spine. How could he let you do this on your own? Wasn’t he good enough? Strong enough? “I said I wasn’t leaving you,” he says, voice more firm. Then, he pauses as his eyes go wide.

“W-wait, wake up?”

Thunk

With one swift motion of your finger, you flick his forehead. You watch as his eyes start to droop, and his balance falters. He reaches for you lazily as he starts to plummet to the ground, and you quickly grab his head and back. You look at Megumi’s hound as it whines and nudges his leg. Then it kneels down, seemingly knowing what the plan was. You place Megumi on its back, and the shikigami stands obediently.

It’s closer now. Any moment and it’ll be within view. You squat to the dog’s height and gently pat Megumi’s hair. Shaking away the feeling of guilt as you stand up.

Looking down at the dog, you scoff. “Don’t look at me like that.” You stare at it as it looks at you before facing the way you both came. “Take care of him. Make sure he’s safe.” With that, the dog starts to jog off into the distance.

You try to maintain your breathing as you turn around and take your pocket knife out of your pocket. Slowly your boots start to inch forward. Small twigs and leaves crackle beneath your feet.

“I know you're here. You take a cautious step forward. “And whatever little spy was sent to supervise you.”

You don’t hear anything move. Just the small lub-dub, lub-dub sound in the distance. You smile. “I can hear your small heart…” You pause and hum, pretending to think to yourself. “In the trees, is it?” Your senses were heightened. The spectator was probably further back than the curse itself, and you could still hear their heart skip a beat from your observation.

“I don’t mind entertaining, you know.” That’s when the low snarls began. You flip out your knife's blade and begin to slowly cut from your wrist to the crook of your elbow. You marvel at how your blood pours out of you, running down the palm of your hand to your fingertips.

You finally see the silhouette of the curse. Its previous snarls turn into laughter. There's a fight for dominance as it gets closer to you, its speech switching between unruly snarls and manic laughter.

It spots you and starts to charge.

You let some of the blood from your arm run into the palm of your hand. You smear the blood on your fists in a thick coat. The curse splits into two beings as it runs toward you. One growls, and the other cackles.

You kick one away to focus on the other. You punch the curse. Hardened blood rips through its tough skin. Murky liquids spill out of its abdomen. Tossing that one to the side, you look for the other.

Having already recovered from your kick, you hear the low growls as it darts toward you. You cover your palms with more of your blood and grab the curse’s head. Your blood punctures through the head of the curse.

Hot goo forms in your hands as the curse’s body begins to melt. You watch as the thick liquid falls to the ground and starts to move. Your eyes dart to the curse you had thrown a few yards away. Its contorted form begins to melt as well.

The guck scatters like roaches in the grass. It moves until you spot two dark pools and the curses reform.

They fight you with no sign of letting up. You stay calm and focused; punching, kicking, ripping, and stabbing with your blood. That is until they stop.

They melt again, but this time as the dark thick liquid travels it gets bigger. It laughs maniacally as its two parts make a whole.

You take a few steps back as you watch the disgusting thing grow larger and larger. “I don’t mind entertaining,” you repeat.

Your hand moves to dig in your pocket. The shiny blade flips out hiding as you rub its black polished handle with your thumb.

“So I guess having an audience makes this part more exciting.” You take a deep breath and prepare.

“Domain expansion”

You hold your blade to your throat.

“Angels sacrifice: Sacred Scales”

Briskly, your blood vessels are slashed through. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fall to the ground. The last thing you hear is a gasp of horror that if you could you would smile at.

“And your Domain?” He asks.

You let out a sigh and roll your neck in a few circles, soaking in some of the refreshing sun in the process. Your silverware clanks on your plate as you let your hands drop on the table. You pause.

“It's a Sacrifice.”

Gojo raises his eyebrows while chewing his pancakes. Staring through you with a look that says ‘Go on’.

“I give up something of mine…I get stronger and the target weaker in return”

He tilts his head as he lays down his fork. “Give up something like-?” He flings his hand around a few times motioning you to go on.

“Something that puts me above the curse.”

Gojo quirks his eyebrows.

You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand, then fish something out of your pocket. With a jingle, you place something down on the table in front of you two.

“What is this?” You ask him.

Gojo narrows his eyes as he looks at you, then at the table, and then back at you. “Are you serious right now?”

You grumble in frustration. “No, I-“

“Cause it’s important to me that you know that these are your…” He emphasizes as he points at you. “keys, sweetheart.” He shows a worried look on his face.

You lower his hand and purse your lips together. “Yes, I know they’re my keys,” you sigh. “But what are they to me and a Grade Four Curse?”

The white-haired man tilts his head up.

You pause as you grab the keys from the table and jingle them in the air. Your eyes look into his, and you smile. “These keys are something I can use that it never can”

There’s a moment of silence as his pale blue eyes look at you with suspicion. He takes a deep breath. “Value,” he says.

Your smile grows larger. “Value.” You repeat as you place the keys back on the table. “Societal value is what drives my Domain. I sacrifice or offer something…anything really, then I and my domain grow stronger based on it.”

Gojo hums to himself and then raises a brow. “Your knife?”

“If the curse is weak enough”

“Your finger?”

“Weird, but sure.”

“Your shoes?”

You tilt your head back and forth “Some curses don’t have feet, so yeah I guess so.”

“You?”

Your eyes widen slightly and you blink. “I’m worth a lot, you know?” You say as you smirk and narrow your eyes.

Gojo smiles and leans over the table, resting his chin in his hand. “Oh, believe me, I know.”

Your first “breath” of air is more of a gasp. Five seconds never felt longer.

Waves of blood flow just above your ankles. A balance scale floats in the middle of your domain and tilts to the right as blood flows into it and onto the ground. Your eyes dart to the curse as it splashes in your blood, but then you notice something.

A devilish grin forms across your lips. “Your soul is in here, spectator!” You point to the curse as it runs to you, almost provoked by your words. Hands made from your blood snatch and grab ahold of it. They see you through its eyes; hear you through its ears. “What a cool technique. But I wonder…”

Drops of your blood rise from the shallows; thinking themselves out into piercing needles. You snap your finger and point toward the creature. “Do you feel the pain I cause this monster?” Agonizing whales follow your blows.

“You know,” you start as you walk towards the curse; the biggest smile crosses your face. You feel the warmth of your blood at your feet and you’ve never felt better. “Your masters…the family, they make me stronger.” The curse lunges at you. You grab and twist its arm. The waves of blood condense under its body and shoot upwards, making the cursed torso limp.

“I must give up something to open my Domain.” The curse hisses in frustration as it frees itself. Your eyes close and you knit your brows together. “It becomes infinitely more useful and powerful if I have something to give that is greater than my opponent.”

The curse claws for you, but a spike of blood emerges from the waves and pierces through its hand, stopping it. You raise your finger, preparing to speak. “For this fight…I offered my life. And it worked because of desire. Isn’t that neat?” You laugh out loud. “They obsess over my blood, my technique, me…so greatly that it has helped me kill every curse user they brought my way.”

You snort as you lay a few blows on the raging curse. “They sent you!” You laugh. “They sent this curse and you to corner me into opening my Domain.” You grab the curse by the neck with your arm and continue to punch its gut. The needles of blood zip through and puncture it like whimsical arrows.

You kick the curse away and snap your fingers. A spike of crimson ruptured through the cursed chest holding it down. You walk and bend down next to the cursed head. You whisper in a low voice. “And when you return to your masters, you will have to make a choice. The choice of whether to tell them what it is and make me stronger…”

Your blood-covered hands slowly make their way to the curse’s head. Your palms caress it with all the tenderness in the world. They can see you. It’s their eyes that you stare at with such disdain — not the curse.

“…or save them by holding your tongue, and they will cut yours out as retribution.”

The nail of your thumb presses into the curse’s forehead harder and harder; your fingers puncture its cranium. Screams of anguish erupt from it and with a quick motion your arms fling out as you rip its head in two halves. You stand and look up at the balancing scale that tips over with blood. It returns to its original upright position as the flow of red slowly comes to a halt

Just then your Domain dissipates with a ‘pop’ and red splatters. You can hear them now. In the trees, their heart rapidly beat from fear. “Choose wisely,” you whisper. You let out a sigh and look around you. The energy you once had is drained from you quickly. Your knees become weak, and the aching starts to settle in.

And before you know it your head has hit the ground.

You lay in a puddle of crimson. The smell of iron overloads your nostrils. There’s a foreign itch on your leg, but you don’t have the strength to lift your head up to look or satisfy the sensation with a scratch.

It hurts. It hurts like hell. But beauty hurts you suppose. Every limb aches with consistent pain. But somehow you’ve never felt better. You’re coming down from the dopamine rush, but it doesn’t happen fast. Your vision is fuzzy and you feel like you could drift off to sleep.

But that itch…it’s moved to your abdomen now.

Droopy eyes travel to look at the sky. The sunset has almost vanished past the tree line, and a blanket of cobalt blue makes its way across the sky; little blurry stars travel with it.

It’s at your breast now, and you can finally see the source of your irritation. A remnant of the curse, no bigger than a softball crawls on you.

Who knew curses could be perverts too?

“Bl- blood…” It croaks as it continues to inch further up your body. This would be a lot more enjoyable if it were someone else doing this.

“Want some?” You softly say just above a whisper. Your left fingers determinedly reach for your pocket knife. Once in your grasp, you carefully and very painfully raise your right hand to cut a slit in your palm.

Barely any blood drips out, but as it does drip down onto the curse, it lets out a screech. Slowly the remains of the curse burn away into nothingness. Your hand slams back the damp red grass. It feels good under your hand; warm. And you felt oh so cold. You try to stay awake. You have to stay awake.

But sleep seemed so good. So appealing. You take one last look at the sky. There was no trace of there even being a sun now. The stars are even more hazy to the eye, and slowly but surely your eyes begin to close.

You dream of the sun while you're asleep. At least a memory of him.

He stands across from you, as per usual. Straggler pieces of your hair sway slightly from the soft breeze as you take a sip of your coffee. His is almost the color of milk from the amount of creamer and sugar he’s put into it.

Gojo grabs another packet of sugar and mixes it swiftly with his spoon. He takes a sample sip and nods his head in satisfaction as he takes another more generous swig.

“You didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, his voice low as he holds his cup with both hands.

“Neither did you.” You take another sip of your coffee and cross your legs.

He chuckles as he looks down and licks his lips. “You’re worried about me?” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s cute.”

“You should take the day off, go to sleep.”

“I should ask the same of you.”

“You ‘sleep’ in a chair you bought for yourself, and you didn’t even go to sleep because of me.” He’s not his usual playful self today, and you’ve picked up on it the second you left your house to come to this outdoor cafe. You can’t believe it’s all because you didn’t get enough sleep.

He scoffs; brows furrowed, but he continues to grin slightly as he drinks his coffee. You both sit in silence secretly stealing glances from each other while you eat.

Then, he speaks. But not before he lets out a sigh.

“When?”

You look up from your plate, stopping mid-chew. His eyes are somber, but there’s a hint of playfulness in his tone. You straighten your back as you look at him puzzled. “When…?” You drag out.

“When were you gonna tell me, doc…?”

You set your fork down, waiting for his complete question.

He lets out a heavy breath. “When were you gonna tell me you were cursed?” He rolls a blueberry between his fingers and you feel his eyes burn right through his shades and into your soul.

You wet your lower lip. A big smile crawls onto your face and you take a glance over him.

“Whenever you figured it out, honored one.”

Chapter Text

You had felt a presence. 

A powerful presence is what you felt as you stood at a street stall selling decorated cookies for the holidays. It was an abnormality in your nice outing on your day off.   

Your phone rings. Expecting it to be work, you are pleasantly surprised for it to be Gojo. As soon as you answer your phone, you see him. 

Taking a bite out of the pastry, you look over the long-haired man in the distance. “Mhm?” You question, speech muffled. 

“Where are you?” Gojo asks. You hear a sense of urgency in his voice that he desperately tries to hide. 

“Shinjuku. I thought I told you?” You take another bite from your cookie. 

“Yeah, yeah, you did,” He drags out a sigh. “Just…uh, be careful around there, mkay?”

“Why’s that?” You watch as the man in the distance walks closer. Finally, you can make out his face. His eyes almost seem to be closed shut from how cheery his smile is. “Should I be concerned?” 

“No,” He says quickly. “Just be alert for me, okay?”

You finish your cookie and swiftly lick your fingertips. “Mkay,” You muffle as you watch the long-haired man wave at you from afar. 

“Fuji Soba for dinner?”

“Uh huh,” you swallow, still staring at the distant man. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.” You hang up and put your phone back in your purse. 

The man with the smile that doesn’t fit his demeanor finally approaches you. But not before he says something to the two girls by his side. They scurry off, looking a little annoyed and the other unbothered. 

“Doctor! Let’s have a chat!”

The dark-haired man in front of you takes a sip of his tea. The corners of his eyes crinkle with delight. You can tell there’s something not quite right with him, but you guess you saw that in all jujutsu users. You study his hair and how the light reflects off of it. 

His eyes open slightly in concern to look down at your plate, eying your single donut and tea. “Please, Doctor, order what you like!” He smiles. It makes you wary. “This treat is my treat.” 

“You have beautiful hair,” you say. His eyebrows raise at the sudden compliment. 

“Why, thank you,” his smile widens. “You’re quite lovely yourself,” he pauses as he takes a bite of his crepe. “I can see why Satoru likes you.” 

Your face stays straight, and you check your watch. “Not to be rude, but today is my day off, and I do have somewhere to be soon; I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me why our paths have crossed, Getou-san.” 

Getou chuckles.”Ah, so you know my name!” His shoulders bounce up and down with every breath. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve made yourself very known.”

“You know my work, I’m flattered.”  His smile widens. “And, of course! I’ll be quick.” He takes a sip of his tea and looks around the restaurant. 

“I just wanted to remind you to be careful!” 

You stare at him confusingly. You were careful. You always were. You’d say you were just a careful person. Whatever could he m-

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

“I mean what I said, of course. Be careful, be… cautious.” You look puzzled as he takes his fork and indulges in another bite of his crepe. He swallows, and a look of satisfaction crosses his face. “The closer you get to him…to your past, the worse your future will be.” 

You glare at him while being shocked by his words but not wanting to show. He knows, though. “Stop speaking in riddles and spit it out.” 

“You’ve been bewitched by him.” 

You let out something between a laugh and a scoff. “Bewitched?” You cross your legs. “What an interesting way to describe it all.” 

“You don’t deny it?” He grins. 

“Oh, I deny it.” 

Getou lets out a belly laugh that can be heard across the room. “It’s sad, really.” 

Your brows furrow, trying to decipher what he means. 

“It’s sad he dragged you back into this.” He sips his tea and then takes a napkin to wipe his lips. “Better than working with those inferior to you, though.” He cocks his head. “Tell me, Doctor, why do you cling to them so much?”

You laugh. “They’re like you and I. We’re all human in one way or another.” 

“I highly doubt that.” 

“Think what you want. If your mind hasn’t been changed yet, I can’t change it.” 

There’s a pause. He’s started by the abruptness of his starting argument. He smiles it off. “I know you must go, but I must reinforce what I have said.”

You tilt your head. “And why is that?” 

“This world we sorcerers live in is a twisted one. Satoru doesn’t know that.” You stare at him, and his voice drops. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you let him continue. 

“He’s too strong to know that…he can have fun with it.” He pauses and looks at his half-eaten food. “Not us.” 

Getou stands up from the table, fixes his clothing, and places cash neatly on the table. “Don’t let him make you think that it’s thrilling. You can’t afford that.” He nods with a smile and bids farewell. 

Still sitting down, you watch his long hair sway as he exits the shop. And once you leave the shop yourself, you can’t help but yearn to hear what else he had to say.

You always thought that life was so beautiful. 

The act of being alive, that is. The complex systems and processes that plants, animals, and humans did just to survive were mesmerizing. 

It’s beautiful, the feeling of soft beams of sun that make their way through the window and gently warm your face. 

It’s lovely how rays of light coat the vibrant hoards of flowers on the table near the window. 

It’s intriguing how you feel the breathtaking life in this room while in so much pain.

You’re sore. You’ve never felt this sore in your life. It’s excruciating. It takes all your will just to open your eyes. And you see all the energy you had felt before. 

The sun hits your eyes, and it makes you wince. Once your vision is stable, your eyes land on the dozens of flowers soaking in the sun and familiar walls. 

But then your eyes land on the most significant source of life. 

He sits in the corner, legs and arms crossed, blindfolded, and slumped in a chair. You see his cursed energy radiate off of him. It’s beautiful, yet frightening. You sigh even though it hurts you, realizing where you are. 

“Sixty-five hours, doc.”

Your eyes slowly move to the corner of the room. 

“That’s a new record.” There’s no emotion in his tone. He says it like it’s only a fact. 

You take a look around the room, and your eyes stop at the door. “Wish I stayed asleep longer.” You look down at your arm, and only then do you hear the beeps of the monitor wired up to you. Glancing up, you take a look at the screen, deciphering the numbers and graphs. Everything looked okay. But you didn’t feel okay. 

You try to move your torso under the covers but take a sharp breath at the pain. No sitting up for now. “Why didn’t you let Shoko have me?” You question. 

Your eyes watch him as his foot fidgets, bouncing up and down. “She didn’t have enough blood,” he says as he wets his lower lip. 

Oh. 

You look down, taking in the information. It must have been worse than you thought. 

Suddenly, you’re startled by the light knock on the door. The door creaks open cautiously, and then you see three bodies in scrubs make their way through the door frame. 

Your coworkers. Gojo takes his leave and wanders off as they bid hello and apologize. He probably wanted to give you space, yet you frown as the door shuts behind him. Questions start to fly at you from each of your concerned peers. 

“Are you okay?”

“We were so worried.”

“That anemia of yours is getting worse.”

“You should rest more.” 

“Who was he?”

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“I’ve seen him around the clinics.”

“He never left your side.” 

“Do you want something to eat? I can bring 'outside food.’” 

“You need to drink your fluids.” 

It was tiring, to say the least. But a part of your heart warmed up after every inquiry and statement. 

Before they say goodbye, they tell you the doctor said to stay one more day and see how you do. It was funny how the Doctor had become Patient. 

Night falls, and so do you. You fall asleep before the sun even sets. 

When you sleep, he gets closer, unbeknownst to you. He indulges in his habit, all while holding your hand and making soft circles on your skin. 

The next day turns into days. The Doctors make you walk around to get your strength back. Gojo helps you keep your balance as you walk laps around the unit. Occasionally you stop at the nurse's station to converse. But Gojo doesn’t try to impress like he usually does. Sometimes the two of you take a longer route on the floor to stop by the vending machines, not returning to the room to eat the wrapped candy. 

The both of you eat in silence. 

On the third day, Gojo opens the door of the room for you. You wheel in the bulky monitor that you are hooked up to in front of you. 

And on your third day, when your strength has almost wholly come back, you stop before you reach your bed.  

You feel his eyes on you—concerned and wary of your abrupt halt. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You snap. Your back faces him. 

He pauses to look at you but says nothing. Your body turns to face him in irritation. “You’re upset with me.” You say it as a matter of fact. 

He responds hesitantly with a breath in. 

“Frustrated, yes.”

Your eyes tell him everything as you say nothing and wait for him to explain himself. 

He licks his lips, thinking, processing. He was choosing his next set of words carefully. “You need to be careful,” he finally spits out. 

“I’m fine,” You shoot him down sternly. 

“No, you aren’t.” His head shakes, and his voice raises slightly. He takes a stride towards you. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lie. “In short of a week, I’ll be back to work here and at the school.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You’re taken aback. “Why not? I'm already doing better. The team agreed it’s okay if I go home tomorrow.” Your palm points to the door where the medical staff shuffle and bustle in the hallway. 

He sighs inwardly. You watch as his brows start to furrow more and more. “Go home, but no working. No more missions.”

“That’s what this is about?” You cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Missions? Look, those assholes are going to send me on missions one way or another. What are you gonna do about it?” You ask him genuinely. Your eyes search for an answer in his. 

He seems to shuffle in his own skin. “I’ll do something.” He takes another step closer to you, trying to convince you and himself of his own promise. 

“Like what?”

Another step towards you as his hand reaches to steady himself with the pole of your monitor. “Anything.”

You can see his brows lit upward, almost pleading with you. You take your own step forward. His tall frame towers over you. Your eyes burn into his, and he can feel the words your eyes say. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself. 

“Then. Tell. Me. What.”

He doesn’t respond. 

You nod, smiling, before disappointment takes over your face. “Figured,” you say under your breath as you turn away and try to pull back the covers. 

Gojo grabs your wrist as you reach for them—your head snapping to meet his gaze. His eyes simultaneously berate you and plead for your understanding. “No. Missions.” 

You yank your hand from his grasp. He looks at you with bewilderment in his eyes.“I’m alive, aren’t I?” You snap. “You act as if this hasn’t happened before.”

“That’s right!” He shouts your name. A word that sounded so foreign on his lips - foreign to your ears. It’s not a pet name. Not a glossy “sweetie” or a tender “dear.” Neither his classic “doc” that you had grown so accustomed to hearing. You catch a crease between his brows as his eyes burn into yours. 

“That’s right,” he repeats. His chest heaves while his hands move curtly. “It’s happened more than once.” 

Images of you cross his mind–images engraved into his irises–Images that he wished he could not remember so vividly. He curses his six eyes for making him witness that evening in such a crystal clear picture. The noxious smell of iron filled his nose, mixed with the elegant scent of your perfume. Gardenias. The first time he had ever smelt them, they were on you. It was a shame he had never smelt them before the day you two had met. A beautiful fragrance that mixes gracefully with your natural scent. 

But now, he remembers how his nose was clouded by the overwhelming smell of your blood and perfume, clashing into an unorganized mess. He remembers the sight of the pool of crimson seeping out of you, soaked up by the abandoned concrete. The small rises of your chest as you sipped in air through your parted lips--the only sign that you were still alive.

“You’re too-“He stumbles on his words as he glances over your face. His face filled with anger and worry. You stare at him back. 

“You’re too selfless.” He scrunches his brows with closed eyes and sifts through his hair with his hand. 

“Selfless…?” You pause. That night with Nanami flashes in the back of your mind. But hearing those words come out of the man before you’s lips make your mind slip into a fit of rage. 

“Selfless?” Your mouth twitches—your nose scrunches. And you watch as Gojo’s furrowed brows turn upward in realization. “I agreed to work for the school that you oh so badly wanted me to teach at.” 

You take a step forward, and your finger vigorously points at him. “You tell me I’m too selfless. But the one thing I was selfish with…the one time I chose to keep my cards close to my chest - you rip that right away from me too!” 

You know he feels it, the waves of your cursed energy radiating from you, getting stronger as you speak. 

“My freedom to pick and choose who I want to see die completely stripped away from me. It was barely tangible in the first place. Having to see children die slowly in the very hospital we stand in was enough for me!” You start to tremble.

“I had the freedom and right to choose whether or not I wanted to see more people die, and you took it away from me, Satoru!”

He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like you using his first name in such vain and disgust. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He watches you. Studies you. The way your lips thin. The way your brows crease together in anger. 

“And now you say I’m too selfless? Too selfless cause I want to protect the people I love!? The very same people you made me care about!”

You shake your head and let out a cackle. 

“And worst of all, I have to worry about you” Your face contorts, sadness and disappointment overtaking it. That’s when Satoru starts to break.

“You!” You point at him. “…the last person anyone should ever worry about.”

You can barely look at the man in front of you. Anger surges through you. “Try being less of such a fucking selfish ass, Satoru. And then maybe you can finally understand someone other than yourself.”

You turn away before you can see his reaction, walking yourself to the bed. You hear the rustling of fabric and the door close softly behind the shuffle of footsteps. 

That night. Your last night. The two of you eat in silence. But this time, something lingers in the air.

You didn’t hear from him. 

You had called him. He hadn’t answered, an odd and rare occurrence. 

You had reluctantly called Nanami, asking if he had heard from him. To which he replied: “He’s not with you?” 

You tried again the next day. Christmas day. With no response, you checked up on the students.

You spent Christmas morning with Shoko. Both of you spent the rest of the day watching movies, eating cookies, and getting tipsy. It was only at the end of your fun day that she brought up Gojo. “Haven’t heard from him. Don’t know where he is either,” she said, sipping her wine. “He’s in a mood.” 

She hadn’t said anything else. So you didn’t try to inquire. You stopped calling after that. It was for the better because days continued to pass. 

That was until New Year’s Eve. 

You worked the night shift at the hospital. Enjoyed some sweet treats with work friends. Watched some people light fireworks into the night sky as an early celebration. It was… nice. 

Your home was dark and quiet, as it often is. You didn’t have to walk around to know something was off. You slid your hand on the wall to take off your sneakers. That’s when you see your thermostat three degrees lower than what you left it. 

You purse your lips and go on. Your socks make the faintest of sounds on the floor. You look around, studying the darkness of your home. You can slowly hear the blood moving in your body as you walk. And when you finally reach your closed bedroom door, you stop. You can finally hear him. His breathing. His blood. His movement. 

Your cursed energy seeps underneath the door as you stand in front of it. You know he can sense it. It takes a swallow and a sigh for you to open the door. 

You’re quick. Consistent. You try to carry on with your usual nightly routine as if he weren’t there —- taking off your badge and scrubs, putting dirty clothes in a hamper, releasing your updo. You think for you to speak first would be you giving into him. But all that is interrupted once you’ve put on your nightwear. 

“You worked today?” 

You look at him as he sits in the chair beside your nightstand. His bandages are neatly wrapped around his eyes, and his legs spread as he sits back and folds his hands neatly near his stomach. “People don’t stop being sick just because it’s New Year’s Eve,” you state plainly.

You never do that, though, he thinks to himself. 

You continue to ignore him and stay silent until you’re finished getting ready for bed. And then you walk to him. You take a few more steps and stand in between his legs.

You remove your hands that once held yourself tightly to reach for his face. Slowly and softly, you grasp the back of his head and start to remove his bandages. The streetlights that bleed through your curtains hit the side of his face along with his hair. Once they’re off, he inhales sharply. 

His head hangs. He can’t look you in the eye. It makes something inside you tick. 

“Look at me,” you command. And he does so obediently. His posture changes, and he closes his legs. You look at his eyes, all dark and sunken; it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. 

The skin between your brows bunches together, and you stare into his eyes. “You left me,” you began. Your hand creeps up his shoulder, your thumb moving in circular motions. 

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know, say why,” you push him. 

His glance wavers but ultimately comes back to you. His tongue quickly swipes across his lips. “Less trouble for you, right doc?”

“You’ve caused me more trouble than anyone this past week.”

He catches what your lips want to say in your eyes; there’s frustration and anger behind them, yes. But there’s just as much worry as well. 

“I’m alright now,” he assures you. But you see past it. 

“No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m alright,” he tries to flash his charming smile, but it’s weak. 

You lean in closer to him, lift your knee onto the chair, and then your other. Lowering yourself on his lap, your head tilts to the side. He knows you don’t believe him, but he’s taken aback by your actions, so his hands find your waist to make sure you are steady. 

Gojo looks up at you. His hands find their way to your cheeks. They’re cold and gentle on your face. His thumbs rub your skin as his lips start to pepper your cheeks. “I’m okay, love,” he convinces. 

There are a couple of moments of silence as he continues to scatter slow kisses across your neck and face. But you can’t do it. You won’t let him move past this like everything else. You won’t allow him to persuade himself that that is the way things should be. 

You can’t. 

So, you shake your head and pull away from him. He lets you slip away; the absence of your touch stings him. Your eyes search for something within him. 

“What do you want from this?” You start. “From me?”

He thinks for a moment, lips never leaving your skin. “Anything you’ll give me.” He grabs your hand and starts to lean into your palm. His hand rubs up and down your arm. 

Your lips purse. “What are we?”

His lips paint your knuckles with kisses. “Anything you want us to be.”

You’re tired of it all. Tired of not getting answers. You pull away from his touch, eyes baring into his soul. Seeking an answer. “What am I to you?” It takes everything in you to ask, finally. 

Your mind is tormented. Your eyes beg him to say it. To own it. To feel. His eyes stare into yours, and his pale face goes red. 

He allows himself to succumb to it. The uneasy feeling in my heart. To the knots and twists that had plagued his stomach over the years. The eagerness of his lips. He allows himself to succumb to you. 

You watch as his eyes begin to wet. His eyelashes look like snowy branches that have the most beautiful icicles frozen on them. And his lips part. 

“…everything,” he whispers. 

And with that, a tear finally slips from his lashes. His head drops down, not wanting you to see. But your hands slowly grab his face—fingers wiping away his one tear. You lean in closer. “I’m here,” you plead. 

More tears start to flow at your words, and your heart starts to ache.

“You believe no one’s here for you,” you breathe out. “…and you can think that, but not with me.” Your head shakes, and your eyes start to water. “If what you say is true, then not with me.” 

“I’ll be here-” you sniffle out. You vigorously wipe his tears away as if it were a remedy. You put your forehead against his. Gojo’s chest starts to heave, and muffled cries leave him. “…with you, like how you are with me.” 

His hand reaches for your cheek, wiping away your own stray tears. Your eyes close as you take the scene all in, memorizing every detail of this night. 

You swallow and let yourself sit up tall. You take a deep breath in and look him in his eyes. 

“So I ask you again… being the strongest-“ 

“…is it scary?” 

He’s taken aback by your question once again. He remembers back to the day when he had barely known who you indeed were. When you were just a pretty face sipping your tea with a stack of papers in front of you, but all too soon, his mind is drawn back to memories that he had thought he pushed away. Yet, they reveal themselves again. Memories of all the times he’s ever failed. 

When he held that sweet girl’s lifeless body in his arms as people cheered. 

When he failed to persuade his one and only friend—his best friend to endure it all just a bit longer. 

When he stood there on the busy sidewalk and let him walk away. 

And then, he thinks back to the one time he succeeded. Succeeded in protecting you, his students. Succeeded in ending a life just a few days ago. But failed to find peace and let it all go. 

His wet lashes lift to look at you and finally feel with you. He swallows. 

“Yes. Terrifying.”

And now Satoru Gojo had failed once again. Failed to understand. He had failed to understand the one person he yearned to understand the most. You. 

Gojo reminisces of a time not so long ago. It was just last week, actually. 

When you had both slept together in the same bed. Your legs intertwined. Your head lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your nails scratched his scalp and played with his hair. 

Before that, there had been boundaries. He wasn’t allowed to love you for the fear of worsening your predicament. Oh, but kissing you, feeling you, loving you, was so blissful. How could he ever not show it? 

But he stopped. It was your suggestion, after all. A smart one at that. It was dangerous to love in this world. So he stopped. For the sake of you and himself, he stopped. But you both never truly did. 

And now Satoru Gojo has recently found himself acting like a teenage boy once again. He has been excited over the silliest things since that terrible but beautiful dinner. Like when your hand reached for yours while walking in public. Or when his fingers can rest on the small of your back when shopping. He thanks a higher power for you not paying attention to his flushed face. 

Satoru chuckles to himself, smiling at the memory but snapping out of his thoughts. He stares at his ceiling. Yes, it’s imperative for him to emphasize in his thoughts that it is his ceiling. Why? Because Satoru not only hates his own ceiling but also never wants to look at it. It fills him with frustration and envy. ‘Why?’ He thinks to himself. He knows why. He never looks at his ceiling. ‘I mean, who looks up at any ceiling?’ And if Satoru Gojo looks at his ceiling, that only means one thing: He is in his bed. Now, Gojo’s bed is very comfortable. It’s soft, airy, “breathable,” as he likes to call it. However, if he’s in his own bed, he’s at his own flat. Where is his flat? He can’t really think of where at the moment. But all he knows is if he is in his flat, on his cushy bed, and looking up at his own ceiling…he’s not staring at your ceiling on your bed in your house. 

And this upsets him greatly. 

So much so that he calls his tired friend: Shoko, as soon as she picks up the phone, she lazily speaks. 

“You did something.”

He doesn’t lie or sugarcode anything. He admits his failure. Shoko takes a moment of silence. He hears her shuffling papers on the other end of the line. 

She finally sighs. “Stop running away like you usually do and fix it.” 

She hangs up, leaving Gojo speechless and his mind in turmoil. 

You haven’t left your house since Ijichi dropped you off. 

You were too tired to do anything else but lay in your bed. You had slept two days away already. You tell yourself that you still feel the effects of your mission on your body, but you know for sure that that’s a lie. The blood transfusions you had gotten had spiked your energy.

 But you couldn't help but lay in the bed all day just thinking to yourself. The decisions you had made, the words he had said, and the words you shot back in pain. Sleep could be your distraction from the events that you want to constantly play, rewind, and play again in your head. 

 You can not only hear but feel the blood moving in your body; you need to stop thinking. Stop doing something you pride yourself in doing. So you stay in bed. The TV in your room watches you as you cave into yourself under the sheets. And that is when your senses focus on something else other than your rushing blood.  

Before you hear the keychain riddled with accessories jingle in the door, you feel the new energy that resides at your front door.

You hear him take off his shoes before he carefully treads through your house; walking from the front door through the livingroom, and to your kitchen. He places a bag of food on the counter and then makes his way to your bedroom. 

He waits for a few seconds. You hear his heart pounding and his circulation. He knocks softly three times before carefully entering your bedroom. You feel his eyes shift to the lump under the covers that is you. 

As he walks towards the bed, you shift your body to turn away from him. As you do, you finally see him. He doesn't wear a blindfold or glasses. His body showcases a black long-sleeve shirt, followed by pants in the same color. 

He looks over you–your eyes low and tired. But he doesn't look you in the eyes, and neither do you. His head hangs slightly. He swallows before speaking, and you hear his heart rate start to pick up in pace.

“I’m selfish,” he starts. 

You don't say a word. You wait instead. 

“You’re right. And uh…I think I’ve known that for a while without realizing it.”

“You’re not selfish,” you interrupt him. Your voice comes out broken and quiet from not speaking. 

He shakes his head, and you feel his weight on the bed's edge. “Don’t try to spare me now,” he nervously smiles. His hand plays with the sheets as he licks his lips. 

“And I should have never forced you into teachi-”

“I chose to,” 

He nods slowly. “Influenced you,” he corrects himself. 

The room stays silent, besides the show that hums on the TV. You can hear how anxious he is. In the quiet of the room, Gojo finally breaks the silence, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words echoing with a rare vulnerability.

You turn under your covers to meet his gaze, a mix of emotions swirling in your eyes. His apology hangs in the air, and the room is suspended in time for a moment. The tension between you begins to dissipate as Gojo takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

He starts to say something but keeps stumbling on his words.  You hear his heart pounding from his nerves. Frustrated, His nose crinkles as he closes his eyes, and he stops himself with a heavy sigh. He composes himself. 

“I love you,” he finally bursts. 

Your heart skips a beat, and your eyes soften as you look at him. He stares at you with his heart on his sleeve, 

His brows crease with intensity. “And I need you to be okay. Because I don’t know what I would d-”

He doesn't even notice when you lift yourself from under the covers to sit correctly on the bed. Or when your hands reach for his shoulders. He only snaps out of his emotions when you lovingly and tenderly place a kiss on his lips. It’s soft and lasts maybe a mere 5 seconds, but he enjoys it just as much as any other you have gifted him. 

You slowly back away from his lips. “I’m…I’m sorry, I should've-”  

Gojo leans to embrace you. And you stay there in each other’s arms, not leaving and not wanting to leave. 

“You can love people,” you whisper softly as a reminder to him.

He sits on your words. It was so hard to though. It was hard to love when you could guarantee fate. He leans into your neck gently. “You can love people too.”

That sticks with you. It just so happened that everyone you loved was a part of this screwed-up system. Loving meant fighting–fighting not only for others but to survive. 

And as you and Gojo grasp onto each other for dear life. 

You can’t help but think that you may have had fun with it. 

And that may be your downfall. 

Chapter Text

His hands were numb.

He had started to drain out the sound of his teacher reprimanding him minutes ago. It was hot outside, and the tan blazer of his uniform was getting sweatier by the second. Maybe beating up those upperclassmen wasn’t worth it. Having to stand out on the curb in this July heat was punishment enough for what he had done. And knowing his trustee, he would be out here for another twenty minutes waiting for him to arrive.

He looked down at his bruised and bloody hands and remembered the look that crossed his sister's face. He wouldn’t fight anymore. That’s what Megumi had promised himself time and time again. It never lasted though. He knew it never would.

Tsumiki was naive. She was focused on finding the good in everyone. But not every person was inherently good. How could he let bad people parade around? Bad people hurt good people—they hurt naive people—they hurt kind people. They hurt Tsumiki. And Megumi knew he couldn’t allow that.

Megumi’s wandering thoughts come to a halt as the stern hand of his teacher grabs him by the shoulder.

The familiar black car of Ijichi makes its way to the curb. He was surprised that Gojo would even be on time. But as the passenger window of the car rolls down he quickly notices that it’s not his benefactor.

It’s you.

Megumi remains puzzled for only a moment before his thoughts are interrupted by his teacher whispering in his ear. Just as quickly, he is nudged forward.

He walks towards the familiar car hesitation evident in his body language. Your eyes follow his path.

An apology is the first thing to come out of his mouth once the car door is shut behind him. It’s a sudden instinct that rises in him—something he would have never uttered if it was Gojo here instead.

But you politely cut him off with a simple click of your tongue before he can even finish the word “-sorry.”

“What did he say to you?” You ask. Your legs are crossed and your eyes don't move from the man who stands a few meters away on the curb.

Megumi is taken aback by your question. He gives you a gloss over through the rear view mirror. The sunny day has you opting to wear sunglasses.

“He wants to talk to you,” he swallows thickly.

You don’t say anything in response—it makes him nervous. Instead, Megumi watches as you tidy up your clothing and tell Ijichi to wait for you. What Megumi fails to notice however is the small movement you make to undo just one more button on your blouse. He's too busy stressing over you even being here to see the way your hips sway just a little bit more than usual as you make your way to his silently awestruck teacher.

You smile and lift up your sunglasses as you bow to the man politely. Minutes pass and it's only when you let out a forced laugh does Megumi’s eyes remove themselves from staring down at his palms to look at you and his teacher.

Your arms are crossed as you nod at the man before you. And there’s… is that blush on that asshole's sweaty face?

There's no way.

Megumi doesn’t hear your carefully articulated (that may or may not be far from the truth) professional medical opinion that you tell his teacher.

However, It's probably for the best because Megumi can't imagine the heinous version of himself that you've created to not only convincingly fool this man but to make him listen to you with a concerned look on his face.

When his stubborn teacher is done exhibiting the little empathy that's left in his miserable life, Megumi watches as you confidently opt to shake his hand instead of a bow and turn towards the car. Out of all the small details Megumi has failed to identify today, he does catch the way his teacher lingers his hand on yours a bit more than what's socially accepted.

When you've finally settled into the front seat with a sigh you swiftly return your sunglasses to your face and redo the button on your blouse.

“No scolding from you?” Megumi questions as he looks at your headrest.

Your hand reaches for the rearview mirror to turn it so your eyes can meet his. “Are you hurt?”

Odd question, but he answers with a confused and dragged-out, “No...”

“Then, no.” Your eyes look down at your phone and you begin to type vigorously at the screen. “I’m your Doctor,” you say matter-of-factly. “I’m in no place to tell you what you can or can not do. If you see it fit that you beat up your peers, go for it. Just don’t get hurt in the process.”

You realign the rearview mirror to its original state and direct Ijichi to drive. “Me and certainly Shoko wouldn’t enjoy the extra work.”

He was so sure you wouldn’t condone hurting others. But he guesses he sees your train of thought somewhere under his…disappointment. As Ijichi starts the engine of the car Megumi’s mind starts spinning like mechanical cogs. So much so, that he doesn't hear you say that this would be the first and only time you would get him out of trouble.

But that doesn't matter because although you say it in a stern tone, you would do it time and time again if he needed you to. Even if this time was due to Gojo begging you to because the “jackass of a teacher” as he calls him hates Gojo just as much as he hates Megumi.

But still…

Part of Megumi wishes you did scold him that day.

Click

The sound of a camera shutter is what wakes Megumi from his memories.

His swollen eyes crane open, but not without a struggle. The cold feeling of gravel on his face makes him suddenly remember where he is.

He had fought that first grade curse alone. He had used his domain.

…his domain.

He had made his own domain! And by the aching feeling that spread throughout his entire body, he was alive. He had won too.

But he wasn’t alone anymore. Megumi turns his head and his eyes land on the unfamiliar sight of tennis shoes. His eyes trail upward until he sees a face in the darkness of the night.

It’s your face.

You smile at him softly. “He wanted a picture.” You gesture to your phone and shake it gently. Gojo’s contact photo shines brightly in his eyes.

Megumi takes the time to observe you more closely. You’re not in you usual work clothes. Instead you opt for loose jeans and a sweatshirt. (One he thinks he’s seen Gojo wear before) It’s something more casual, more comfortable. It makes him realize that you aren’t something perfect.

You’re human too.

Megumi turns from laying on his stomach to laying on his back. You type away on your phone for a few seconds and then look back down at him, scanning his limp body.

He’s confused. He doesn’t know why you’re here. He had expected the brash noise of Itadori and Kugisaki to wake him up, not your camera flash. about seemingly knowing what he was thinking you answer his question.

“Just in case,” you say.

Megumi groans at your answer. Just in case, huh?

You crouch down to his level and quickly take another photo. The sudden flash makes Megumi flinch and squint his eyes in annoyance. You giggle at his reaction as you send off another photo to Gojo.

Afterwards, you stand up and put your hand in your sweatshirt pocket. Megumi can feel your stare on him even with his eyes closed. He opens them to look at you.

A fond smile takes over your face and you tilt your head to the side. “You did well.”

Megumi’s mouth parts slightly at your comment as he stares back at you. He turns away to look at the stars that litter the night sky.

He did well.

Yet you still have to babysit him? Making sure he’s alright? You still had to take him away from the mission you both were assigned to, just to protect him. Why was he-

“I'm proud of you…” You say as you continue to stare at him.

It means a lot to him. More than you’ll ever know. One of his mentors praising him for his efforts. But Megumi only feels content for a moment, before guilt takes over him.

“You fought that curse alone.” His voice comes out dry and cracked as he speaks for the first time since waking up. It’s a statement. Not a question. He knows you did and that’s what gnaws at him in the back of his mind.

“Yes.” Your eyes hint at sadness, but the rest of your face doesn’t show it.

“I heard you were in the hospital.” Megumi built the strength to turn his head and look at you again. “Was that why?”

“I just needed a li’l boost,” you shrug off his concern.

Megumi hums as he eyes you up and down. “So blood, huh?” Megumi growls as he remembers the way you used your cursed technique. “Makes sense.”

You kneel down to him and grin. There’s another ding from your phone. You look at the notification and sigh. “He wants another picture.”

Megumi agrees reluctantly by turning towards the camera lens of your phone. The shutter clicks and after some quick editing on your end, you show Megumi the picture of him, but with drawn on cat ears and whiskers.

He rolls his eyes, but smiles briefly before laying his head back down in the gravel with a thud as you send off the photo to Gojo.

“So it’s true?”

You rest your chin in your hands while kneeling. “Yes.” You say as you look down at the gravel.

Megumi chuckles in response. “I should’ve known.”

“Oh really?” You tilt your head somberly—a kind smile on your face.

He weakly nods. “I should’ve known Gojo wouldn’t let me have my doctor to myself.” He smirks.

“That freak!” Nobara exclaims as she catches her breath. The cursed energy from the nail she launched verberates throughout the target.

“That freak has clouded her judgment!” She outstretched her hand towards Yuji, signaling for him to give her another nail “I don’t see it. Shouldn’t she be with someone as smart as her…like…I don’t know, anyone else!”

Yuji quickly obeys her silent order by opening the leather sash that usually sits on her hip, and hanging her a nail.

Yuji and Megumi watch as their peer strikes the target again with perfect accuracy.

“I don’t know, maybe they have more in common than we think.“ Yuji says as he sits criss-cross applesauce on the durable mats of the training room floor.

Nobara’s head snaps to meet his figure and sends a deathly glare his way.

“O-or not…yeah probably not.” Yuki stampers with a laugh.

Nobara sighs and the turns to Megumi who sits on a bench to the side. “Well?” She questions.

Megumi’s ears perk as he looks up. “Well…what?”

“Well!” Nobara drags obnoxiously. “If anyone were to know how well they get along, I’m guessing it would be you!”

Megumi plays with the sleeve of his uniform. “I don’t know as much as you think I do,” he sighs. With the rather abrupt announcement of you and Gojo being together by the clan heads, it seemed everything was in chaos. Megumi hasn’t known a moment of peace since.

“I don’t know why the clan heads even care so much that those two were together anyway.” Megumi mumbles.

Everyone knows Gojo can do nearly whatever he wants anyways.

“It’s obviously because no one would ever expect Gojo to get a girlfriend in the first place.” There's a loud clash of metal as Nobara sends another nail into the target.

Yuji silently agrees while nodding with closed eyes.
“Ooh! Or! Maybe it’s a ploy to take all his money!“ Yuji adds. “I’ve watched soap operas like that before.

Nobara raises her brows and points to him in agreement and the two share a nod.

The training continues. Yuji hands Nobara nails, and in exchange Nobara lets out her frustrations on the target and not by verbally threatening Yuji. It’s a symbiotic relationship.

But Megumi’s mind still wanders. Were the two of you compatible? You both seemed to get along a majority of the time. Even if it just seemed like you
tolerated Gojo at times. Megumi remembers how the two of you got closer—how things started to change over time. How semi annual check ups to the doctor’s office turned into bimontlhy visits. How just being his doctor, turned into being a teacher at the school. Years passed and things changed. But Megumi didn’t know if it was necessarily a bad thing or not. He quite liked the change if he was honest with himself.

“Hey!”

Megumi snaps out of his thoughts.

”Didn’t you mention that the doctor got to you before us when you fought the first grade curse alone?” Nobara asks.

“Yeah…” He answers with a puzzled look on his face.

“Oh, yeah! Fushiguro, how was that mission with her?” Yuji interrogates. “I bet the two of you were badasses!”

“Hell yeah! I bet it felt good to take ‘em down with someone so experienced, huh?” Nobara adds.

Megumi rubs his earlobe in a search for quick comfort. “Uh…uhm, about that…”

Megumi gets all of his grievances off his chest. He tells Kugisaki and Itadori how he wasn’t there for any of the important parts, how he was the one that killed a bunch of the weaker curses in the beginning, how you sent him off on his dog to fight alone, and how he woke up in Shoko’s office to her offering him a lollipop…and a cigarette? He reiterates how he chose the lollipop multiple times to them.

When he’s done with an extravagant whirlwind of a story, his friends are up close with their jaws dropped in astonishment. There's an eerie silence until Nobara speaks up.

“So you’re telling me…she flicked you in the forehead, and you passed out?”

There’s another beat of silence. That is until Nobara drops to the floor in laughter. Her cackles echo around the room and Megumi’s face burns in flames.
In a desperate attempt to alleviate some of the embarrassment, Megumi begins to explain himself. “I don’t know! I-It was probably a pressure point, or something!” His hands begin to flail as the girl on the ground in front of him continues to laugh.

“Wait, wait.” Yuji grabs his chin in thought. “I think I know what you’re talking about!”

“You do!?” Megumi gleams.

“You do?” Nobara speculates. She pauses her laughter to hear the boy out.

“Yeah, yeah! When Gojo-sensei first met me on the rooftop of my school he flicked me on my forehead to make me go to sleep! You were there Fushiguro!”

Megumi’s bros furrow for a moment before he remembers. “Yeah… I was, wasn’t I.” Megumi does remember that, now that he thinks about it.

“Mmhm! Gojo-sensei did that after Sukuna first took over my body and he carried me and Fushiguro back to the school!” Yuji nods in fulfillment like he’s just solved a big mystery.

“So…” Nobara starts. The boys both turn their attention to her again. “…both you and Itadori got flicked in the head by our teachers and passed out…”

Megumi and Yuji both exchange a silent look. And then—

Another burst of laughter from Nobara as she falls out on the floor again; rolling on the mattresses that made up the floor.
“Oh- oh my gosh!” She tries to subdue her laughter so that she can talk. “I wonder- HAH! I wonder if she taught him that!”
There’s a look in the two boys' eyes as they contemplate the possibility. But it’s quickly put to a halt as Nobara starts to cackle again.

“BAHAHAHA! Forget- forget what I said earlier! HAHA!” She wipes tears from her eyes as she tries to catch her breath again. “They do have something in common,” She sighs as her laughter calms down.

Megumi and Yuji turn to her expectantly, waiting for her answer.

“Making a fool of you two! HAH!” She holds her stomach—the laughter taking a toll on her body.
The boys turn away defeated.

A reality show plays in the background of your dark bedroom. The air has turned crisp as of late. Gojo lies under your head, your two bodies intertwined providing body heat to one another. The changing of seasons is near.

He plays with your left hand as the back of your head and uses his chest as a pillow. His fingers trace, glide, and outline your own. You watch the contestants on the screen as they dance on the ballroom floor. You only halfway pay attention, it was a rerun of last week's episode. Yours and Gojo’s excitement had been long diluted since it’s premiere.

Instead, your mind wanders. You’re thinking. You think for a while, actually; wondering if you should even bring your thoughts up. But as the show goes to a commercial break your tongue seems to move before your brain can stop it.

“I have this feeling…”

Gojo seeming to have been in a trance, perks up. His hands falter as they touch yours. He voices a small “hm…” signaling the attention he places on your upcoming words.
You continue. “…it gnaws in the back of my mind.”

Gojo seems to have put two and two together. You two had not talked about your hectic mission since you left the hospital. There was a silent, mutual agreement that it would only become a topic of conversation whenever you brought it up. Looks like now was the time.

“You were targeted,” he says. He resumes the exploration of your hand while he speaks. “It’s fine to feel anxio-“

“No. It’s not that.”

Gojo looks down at you. Your interruption leaves his previous words disoriented. “Are you sure?”

You’re silent. Only for a moment, before you give yourself the courage to speak up. “That kid…from Kyoto…” You finally shift from your comfortable position slightly to look up at Gojo.
His eyes meet yours. And in the moment you can see some of the light drain from his pupils.

The “kid” was Mechamaru. Just a few days ago he was found dead. He had perished in battle; one he took upon himself, and himself alone. But when his Kyoto professors had found him, his body was restored. It was no longer restricted to the tubes and wires that anchored him in place.

It was a peculiar incident.

An incident Gojo would rather you not hear about.

But there you are staring into his soul, waiting expectantly. He tries to damage control. “You had a lot of stress on you this past week,” he argues as his hand smooths over your shoulder—cold fingers rubbing circles into your skin. “I didn’t want to add any more.”

Not a lie.

Not the whole truth either.

You take one last second to look at him and then turn back to the television. He wasn’t wrong, you settle.

”I don’t think I'm paranoid.” You lay your head back down on Gojo’s chest, and the show comes back from a commercial break.
It’s a feeling.. It creeps up in the back of your mind when you share mundane moments like this with Satoru.

And you just can’t shake it.

But he sings reassurances in your ear as he scatters light touches on your skin. He litters your neck with kisses in hopes of easing your mind.
And you give into them just enough to let the worries flee your mind for the night.

“Satoru…” He now lays in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around you, and legs holding you your own in place under the covers.
He places another kiss on your neck in acknowledgment.

“I used my domain.”

He tries to pull you closer than you already are and snuggles his nose into your neck. “I figured.”

It was a given, really. The only way you would have bled out that not-so-fateful night was if you had. Your confession stumbles him; that is, until you finish your thought.

“They used him…they used him to get to me.”

Gojo’s nose and lips ghost offer your skin in hopes of relieving your stirring thoughts, just as they did a moment ago. But to no avail, Gojo can sense the small increase of your cursed energy that naturally radiates off of your body; a visual representation of your frustration and anger.

Megumi was a part of their plan that night. He was a precaution. You would do anything to protect him, it was a given. You would let them see your domain. You would let them gawk at it, savor it, obsess over it more than already so. All to protect those you love.

”They wouldn’t dare hurt you, you know.” Gojo used his elbow to prop himself up and look you in the eyes.

“I kn-“

“Not with what they know…not with me here.” He says sternly. His brows are furrowed slightly as he makes sure he has your attention. His hand firmly grasps yours.

You know that. You’ve always known that. Gojo was a barrier for you. He was your infinity if you ever had it. But even if he wasn’t with you in this bed, even if he wasn’t by your side at this moment…

You wouldn’t let them hurt you or anyone you loved.

“Don’t make me feel crazy when I'm the only one being reasonable,” Maki grumbles. Her hands glide on her cursed tool as she sharpens the blade.

The three students sit in an empty classroom to converse on the hot new topic of the week.

“Salmon,” Inumaki replies.

“Well, you don’t sound concerned.” She rebuttals.

“What’s there to be concerned about?” Panda interjects.

“Nothing really, but c’mon now?” Maki crosses her legs. “Gojo? With a partner? Really?”

“I mean, is it that outlandish?” Panda replies. “He is a handsome fella,” Panda chuckles.

Maki and Inumaki turn to look at the ‘mammal’ in silence.

His amusement is quickly put to a stop.

“I wonder how Okkotsu will feel.” Panda looks around trying to divert the attention that’s on him.

The room gets drastically darker, making Maki look out the classroom window, Inumaki and Panda follow suit. All stare at the sunset.

“Yeah, I wonder.”