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Chapter Text

He has been chasing a first grade cursed spirit in an underground tunnel for the whole hour. At first the many-eyed beast was in the mood for a chat. “Ti-i-red, tired,” he was hearing the disembodied voice grunt from the heart of the tunnel. Now he is only hearing its wet steps in the dark proximity. Judging by the residuals and a patch of cursed energy recognized by the Six Eyes, once he waltzes around the nearest corner he’s golden. 

He was, until his ringtone disrupted the silence and the target escaped. “Hi, Gojo-san,” he hears Haibara greet him on the phone. 

“I’m very busy right now, pal,” Satoru whispers in haste. “Be quick”

“I know you are,” his tremulous voice replies, “But it’s about Geto-san” 

He begins drumming his feet against the damp concrete floor. “Okay, wait a minute. I’ll exorcise the damn thing and call you back. Pinky promise.” Satoru is in for a speed record as soon as he presses cancel. One hand occupied with the phone, he decides to cut himself some slack and finger-guns a sphere of Red, exposing the iron rods that used to support the now pierced walls. The tunnel will have to face some reconstruction. In the afterglow of light produced by the flash of attack he watches the cursed spirit’s purple blood mix with pools of water in the gutter. 

He taps the buttons on the way out. Haibara picks up immediately. “So what’s up with Suguru,” he asks right off the bat. 

“I know it’s not very polite of me, but some lady — she said her name was Tsukumo — spoke to Geto-san and I happened to eavesdrop a little” 

Pleased, Satoru whistles into the speaker, sending an echo along the tunnel. “Way to go, Yuu. Were they trash-talking yours truly?” 

“Not particularly. I’m just a little worried. Nanami and I are preparing for a mission to another prefecture — briefing and all, — so could you please visit Geto-san? He is not feeling very well” 

“I know it’s rich coming from me, but have some respect. Suguru is the strongest” 

“I have no doubts he is,” Haibara counters without hesitation. “Still—“ 

“Nothing to worry about. I already asked if he’s alright. He said he was a bit weary from the summer heat.” 

Satoru reaches the end of the tunnel. The heat is indeed off limits. He flinches at the flip of temperature between the cool space of the tunnel and the weather outside. The river bank crossed by a railroad bridge is gleaming under violent sun. 

“Okay, senpai, you know better. Can you do it for us, then? Just so we could go on our mission with no hard feelings”

His stomach drops. A pang of jealousy strikes Satoru immediately. “What do you mean for us?” 

“We could always rely on Geto-san for guidance, couldn’t we? But looking at him today… Maybe he needs us now” 

Satoru scratches his head. “Again, you’re acting as if he’s about to kill himself or something. That’s mean. It’s Suguru we’re talking about”

He hears shuffling on the line. Nanami’s firm voice emerges. “Exactly. That’s what we’re always thinking, ‘It’s Geto-san. What ever could happen?’ Please check on him, Gojo-san. He trusts you best,” he asserts and leaves the line, hanging up without a goodbye.

Satoru lingers in place, listening to the perpetual beeping. The heat weighs on his head, and he has to rub his temples to make a sense of his surroundings. Hiding the phone back into his pocket, he takes a turn to stroll along the river bank. Under the bridge where local trains make the foundation tremble and water drops rain on his own head, Satoru sees a primitive graffiti in red color. The strokes of red paint spread by a clumsy hand without a template read, “They don’t mind if you fall”. 

Apparently, this bridge is a suicide site (hence the cursed activity). Satoru huffs a laugh. In the free fall, a dying person sure does not care who ever approves their death. He would know. For what it’s worth, he almost died once. 

Of course he trusts me best, Satoru thinks as he is taking a train home. He is almost certain that Nanami and Haibara are blowing the issue out of proportion. Suguru would reach out if he needed help. 

Neither their comrades, nor even Shoko know, but Suguru and him started dating in the midst of the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. 

They were building a sand castle in the afternoon of their first day in Okinawa. Fighting tooth and nail over the shape of the fortress, they decided to build two separate castles, sending each other offended glares every now and then. When they were almost finished, Suguru cracked and began shaping a bridge between the two sculptures. “Here, now they’re inseparable allies,” he said with that shy smile of his. Satoru realized he will never love again.

Before he accumulated the courage to confess, Riko Amanai ran toward the sea, stepping on the bridge between the castles on her way. Suguru laughed as Satoru was chasing the girl to avenge their works of art. 

He finally confessed while they were waiting for Riko next to the aquarium as she admired the beauty of sea life. While Suguru was explaining the life cycle of the Bluefin tuna in meticulous detail, Satoru clenched his fist and interrupted him midway. For a few moments Suguru didn’t acknowledge the words and continued talking but then he froze. It took a while for Satoru to convince him that he didn’t confuse friendly affection for a crush and that it was very much possible for two sorcerers to date each other. 

“Me too, Satoru,” he ended up responding. His blush took an orange shade in the dim blue lighting. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the floor. “But why now?” 

“Just felt like it.” Satoru smiled victoriously, winding an arm around Suguru’s shoulder. “When we get this over with, let’s go on a date!” 

Suguru glanced around, and having made sure that the visitors were focused on the exotic fish behind the glass, he kissed Satoru’s cheek. “Promise” 

During the flight back home they secretly held hands and made plans for their first, second and third date. Satoru regretted that he hadn't confessed earlier. 

Maybe I should have waited it out, after all, he thought as he carried Riko Amanai’s corpse toward Suguru. Covered in his own blood, he wondered what had been going on in Suguru’s head during the hours that he spent wandering around the city, convinced that Satoru was dead. Did he regret that they had confessed or rejoiced at the brief chance? 

Needless to say, the first date never happened. Neither did the second or the third. Satoru was hoping they both made an unspoken agreement to take back the confessions for the meantime. He had a new target to focus on. Codename — Never Again. First, he brought Toji Zenin’s spear to school and wiped it the fuck out. Then he began tinkering with his Infinity, et cetera, etc.  

By the time his train arrived at the nearest metropolitan station, Satoru was certain he had figured everything out. He was so eager to solve the problem that he tried his best to teleport through a long distance for the first time. He didn’t manage to land at the dorms, only in the center of the stadium, but still, it worked. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, pleased with another staple of his rapid progress. He loves the security it brings. He is proud that he has almost mastered the whole package of abilities he was given. He aims to reach his maximum power by the time he graduates. He decides to visit Suguru, spend a few moments with him and then come back to the stadium to practice the Domain. 

When he walks into the dormitory and reaches Suguru’s bedroom door, he finds that it’s closed. It isn’t a rare occasion now, though last year it used to always be open for Satoru. He used to inhabit it constantly before this busy summer. Now he only visits his own room for a change of clothes. His technique allows him to skip sleep for days, so he didn’t bother to disturb Suguru’s normal sleep schedule, preferring to catch naps in the cars while the assistants were driving him to various parts of the city and to nearby areas. 

Satoru knocks. “It’s me. Are you there?” He asks, confident that his voice will be recognized. 

Suguru opens the door, but hesitates to let him in. He stands at the doorway, apparently waiting for Satoru to explain why he came at all. He doesn’t utter a single word, only looks up at him with tired eyes. His hair is loose and disheveled. There’s a pale orange patch of unknown origin on his white t-shirt. 

Satoru tries to stay cheerful. “Suguru, let’s finally go on our date, like, right now” 

Suguru blinks, caught off guard.

“I’ll take you on a nice date and you’ll feel better”

Perplexed, he leans on the doorframe, gripping the door handle. “Who said I felt bad in the first place?” 

Satoru decides to hide that he was forced by other people to check up on his own best friend. “Let’s just get some fresh air. We didn’t go out together in a while” 

“I have to bail. Another mission in an hour.” At that, Suguru tries to close the door, but Satoru sticks a foot in the doorframe.

“Wait” 

So, that’s not it. He isn’t upset because he missed me. After all, what would it have to do with the Tsukumo lady? Satoru has to figure it out fast. He needs to say the right words to continue the conversation. 

“Wait,” he repeats, but more to himself. Setting a tactic as if talking to Suguru is some kind of task sounds absurd and genuinely repugnant. They used to act naturally around each other.

“Satoru, what’s going on?”

“Exactly,” he starts, tentatively. “What’s going on with us? It’s like we’re not on the same page”

Suguru sighs, opens the door again and this time, he lets Satoru step inside the room. Satoru sits down on the bed, but Suguru doesn’t join him. He picks up his uniform jacket from the pile of clothes on the floor and puts it on. “Everything is fine with us,” he denies while tying the golden buttons, “You’re doing well, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Satoru confirms as he traces the geometric patterns on the duvet with his index finger. “I pulled off three missions today. The one in the morning was wacky, I had to shoo two delinquent kids from the top of a roof before taking care of the curse. The brats didn’t want to leave no ma—“ 

Suguru interrupts him, “So there’s nothing to worry about”

Satoru closes his mouth and blinks away the trail of conversation Suguru sliced off. “Can I hang out here before you go?” He kicks back on the bed and nuzzles his cheek against the covers. 

Suguru glares at him this time. “Don’t waste your time” 

He hears a sting in Suguru’s words. “Are you mad at me?” He leans on his elbows to study his expression. Nothing but exhaustion is written on his face. 

“I’m not, Satoru. Drop it,” he struggles to maintain a neutral tone, biting the inside of his cheek. 

He feels humiliated for having to coax words out of Suguru. He whispers, “Fine” and moves to the door, but stops in his tracks at the last second. Forcing a conversation with Suguru is unheard of. Something really is wrong. 

“I won’t.” Satoru squeezes his palm into a fist. “You’re acting weird and I want to understand what’s going on with you!” 

“Makes the two of us” Suguru steps back to lean on the edge of his desk. Satoru remains silent, urging him to continue. “I… I’m stuck in my ways, okay? I’m not sure that being a sorcerer is worth it anymore” 

At least he can recognize Suguru’s characteristic demand for meaning — the first piece of a puzzle Satoru craves to solve now. “Of course it is! You’re good at it and your technique is special”

Suguru shakes his head, “It’s not enough. For you, maybe. Not for me” 

Between the two of them it is Suguru’s job to empathize with people. Satoru passed him the reigns to this role from the start. He trusted Suguru to know the right words. In their loneliest line of work, Suguru always worked with people. For people. That’s why Satoru depended on him. 

He lifts his eyes at Suguru who still looks like he would walk through the walls of his own room if only it would help him escape from Satoru’s prying gaze. He has no words. Is there even a point in trying to find words of comfort for someone who seems uncomfortable with Satoru’s very presence?

“Can I… can I brush your hair? Looks like you forgot. The knots will get worse if you go out like that,” he asks sheepishly.

Suguru runs a hand through his black locks, acknowledging that he indeed has forgotten to comb it. He heaves a sigh of surrender and hangs his head. “Fine.”

Satoru rushes to the bedside table and grabs the hairbrush before Suguru would think twice and deny the favor. He settles on the bed and spreads his legs. “Come here.” Suguru obediently occupies the spot on the floor in between Satoru’s knees, facing away.

“Tell me, then. How did you get over it? Riko-chan. Zenin Toji” 

“I just set a goal to never let it happen again. That’s why I want to get stronger. I’ll never lose to anyone after Toji.” He lifts a painfully unkempt knot at the back of Suguru’s head and tries to untangle it with momentary energetic touches of the comb. He feels Suguru wince at every collision. 

They remain silent after that. Satoru brushes his hair until all the knots are gone. He gives in to the temptation to glide his fingers over the smooth black surface that shines in the daylight. The hairbrush and his fingers smell like Suguru’s usual shampoo. Satoru has almost forgot this smell. It has been so long since they’ve been this close physically, he realizes. 

Before he could take another leap of courage and plant a kiss to the top of his head, Suguru checks his watch and leans on his arm to stand up. “Sorry. I have to go” 

A little dumbfounded, he remains on the bed with the comb in his hand. “Let’s spend more time together when you’re back” 

Suguru grabs the backpack from the desk and glances at him sideways. “You can stay here if you don’t have any more work tonight.” He shrugs. “But this room is gross, I must admit”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll bring it up again when you’re home”

Suguru scoffs, “That’s my line” before leaving the room. 

Now he has time to figure out how to make Suguru feel better. 

In the chaos of his room one thing alarms Satoru most. There’s no signs of food: no wrappers, no empty boxes of instant ramen, no dirty dishes or cups. The only sign of someone having a meal there is a soy sauce stain on the duvet, but Satoru supposes he was the one who had left it two months ago during their latest movie night. 

Suguru lost plenty of weight. When Satoru begins to pick up clothes from the floor, he holds a pair of black jeans with a leather belt wrapped around their waist and notices a new handmade hole in it, farther from the original set. 

Satoru gathers all the clothes and undresses the sheets, throwing everything in the white basket for dirty laundry. He carries the whole basket to the laundry room and sets a washing machine off with the better portion of clothing. While it works Satoru borrows a sponge from the bathroom and wipes the dust on the desk, carefully removes Suguru’s books from the shelf and wipes its surface too. He puts the books back one by one, trying to maintain the same order. 

He opens the window to let the dust out and the fresh air in. Shoko’s back is facing him as she smokes in the yard. She turns toward the sound of Suguru’s window opening. 

“Gojo! What are you doing?” 

“I decided to clean Suguru’s room. Maybe it will cheer him up. Are you busy?” 

“Well, you know the drill. But I got a spare minute, what’s up”

Satoru reaches for his school bag next to the door and takes his wallet.

“Catch!” he throws the wallet out the window. Shoko jumps to grab it with both hands, making the ashes drop from the tip of the cigarette in between her teeth. 

“Yo, what if I decided to rob you blind?” She unzips the wallet. “Does Geto know you keep a copy of his student card photograph here?” 

He does. He uses Satoru’s own picture as a bookmark. “There’s some cash, but if it’s not enough, use my credit card. Buy something simple, pre-made stuff, snacks — whatever. Suguru is a big boy, so don’t be skimpy” 

“You got it” 

“Oh, and treat yourself with a pack of cancer sticks!” he shouts when Shoko is walking away. 

“Thanks, pal!” she shouts back and runs toward the gates. 

Satoru disappears into the laundry room to retrieve the clothes and hang them to dry.

***

“I bought stuff: onigiri, sandwiches, pork chops, garnish. Need a hand at cleaning?” Shoko places the bag on the desk. 

“Hell yeah. Grab the sheets. I have no idea how to stuff the duvet cover.” Satoru mops the floor on the opposite side of the room.

The water in the bucket soon turns muddy. The remaining dust, Suguru’s lost hair, and cigarette ashes float on its surface. Lots of hair, Satoru must point out. It’s probably falling off because Suguru doesn’t eat well. 

He stares at the water. “Did you notice that Suguru isn’t feeling well?” he asks out loud, searching for answers to his suspicions. 

Shoko smoothes the corners of the sheet after tucking it between the bed frame and the mattress. “Of course I did. Have you seen him? His eye bags are a total jump-scare”

For a person with all-seeing eyes, Satoru is feeling unfairly myopic. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

She meets Satoru’s eyes, her own suddenly sad. “It’s just such a tragic view. He’s the best of us. I wasn’t ready to see him crumble. I don’t like watching you running yourself aground either. So I hid in the infirmary from the both of you like a coward” 

“I’m not running myself aground. It’s all easy for me.” He chuckles at the misconception, dragging the mop along the corner of the room. 

Shoko forcefully throws the covers on the sheet. “Then why do you need to exercise your technique all the time?” she asks with unveiled curiosity. 

“Just so I can use it,” he answers automatically, following the mop with his eyes. 

Shoko settles on the bed. She is lying on her stomach, shaking her legs in the air. “To do what?” 

Satoru arches a brow. “To save everyone, I guess.” He turns to work on the patch of the floor around the bed. 

She smirks, leaning her chin on a palm. “And how’s it helping you save Geto?” 

He gapes at Shoko like she has just blasphemed right to his face. The mop falls down. “Huh? Well, I mean. In case he gets in trouble—”

“He won’t.” She shakes her head, unsatisfied with the argument. “He’s still a special grade. And I can heal him if push comes to shove” 

“Right! That’s why I don’t understand what’s troubling him. We failed last year, but we survived and got stronger, didn’t we? It was quite an experience” 

“Experience, you say,” Shoko hums. “Maybe the problem is that you’re not troubled”

Satoru frowns incredulously. “Your point?” 

“Geto’s grief is, like, absolutely justified. Besides, I’m one hundred percent sure he is dreading that you never work together anymore. Yet right until today you were acting so unfazed, no wonder he is afraid to share his feelings with you.” Shoko raises an open palm as a warning. “But don’t get it twisted, I do not blame you. What I'm saying is, before you can help your friend, you need to figure out your own feelings. First help yourself with an air mask, then the others” 

Satoru begins pacing around the room. He almost trips while running in circles on the damp floor. “I don’t have any feelings about it. It’s just life. How mulling over it is going to help me understand Suguru?” 

“Gojo.” She twists on the bed, turning to lie on her back. “All you do is train all the damn time. All you talk about is Red, Blue and your fucking Domain.” She shrugs to herself, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. “Nothing wrong with realizing your potential, but you got obsessed to the point that you didn’t notice what Geto’s going through. And as a reward for your greed they’re just dumping more and more missions on your back”

He hangs his head. “And the missions keep me away from Suguru.”

Shoko flinches, hearing heavy steps behind the wall. Someone opens and closes the door to Satoru’s room. “Doesn’t serve you right, now does it? The second year version of you would throw a tantrum at the mere idea of working without Geto. And now you’re just letting them push you around.” As soon as she finishes the sentence, Yaga enters the room. “Yes, them,” Shoko whispers. 

Yaga stops at the doorway. “Good afternoon, Shoko.” He glances at Satoru, “I’ve been looking for you”

Satoru hesitantly reaches to pick up the mop to plant it in the bucket. “Ok, duty calls, I guess” 

Shoko sighs, gets up hurriedly and maneuvers between the two of them to leave the room. Before going away, she takes a moment to smile sadly in Satoru’s direction. 

“Actually.” He tugs at one of the golden buttons on his open jacket. “No can do, sensei. I’m cleaning Suguru’s room. I must be there when he comes home” 

“People are dying in Chiba” 

“I don’t care. My best friend is not feeling well right here” 

Yaga challenges Satoru’s determined but desperate stare, knowing that he could yield in an instant. “Is Suguru physically hurt?” he asks, searching Shoko behind his shoulder, but she’s nowhere to be seen. 

“He’s not,” Satoru answers instead of her.   

“Then he can handle it. As long as he’s able to work, it’s fine”

Feeling as if clouds have finally dissolved in his mind, he asserts, “I’m staying,” before closing the door right in his teacher’s face. 

Satoru slides down on the damp floor in the middle of the room. No wonder Suguru was so distant. Satoru was treating him like Yaga — took his resilience for granted and was the last one to notice he’s hurt. “I messed up, didn’t I?” he says out loud for the walls to hear. 

*** 

Satoru had to wait for hours. He might as well go to the training field like he meant to, but decided against it. He polished everything he could get his hands on inside the small bedroom. His home estate maids would drop their jaws. He even washed the window inside and out and sorted the books by color. Found the bookmark with his own face in the process. It cheered him up — the fact that Suguru kept it. 

He just needed something to distract himself from the dread of having to talk to Suguru with no armor but vague directions from Shoko. He prefers a map much better. But apparently he lost a map to Suguru’s companionship and kindness. 

When Suguru comes back, he looks genuinely surprised that Satoru is still here.

“Welcome back!” He puts on a smile. 

Suguru doesn’t answer, proceeding to take off his jacket and hang it on the chair in front of his desk. Satoru looks at him expectantly. 

“I’m home,” he mumbles. Satoru counts it as a small victory, squeezing his fist inside the pocket of his pants.

Suguru observes his own room as if it changed drastically while he was away. “Thanks. You didn’t have to” 

“I wanted to do something for you.” Satoru directs a peace sign at him. “Shoko made the bed! She says hi” 

Suguru kicks back on the edge of the bed with his feet planted on the floor. Satoru occupies the chair, sitting backwards. He throws his arms overboard the back of the chair that is covered with the fabric of Suguru’s jacket. It smells of sweat and fuel oil from a lengthy train ride. 

A few moments later Suguru straightens and begins to undress, clueing Satoru to back off and leave the room to let him fulfill a bedtime routine and lay down for the night. But Satoru doesn’t budge. He turns his head toward the window and stares at the glimpses of lamps hanging from the torii gates — to let Suguru change in peace — but he doesn’t plan to leave. Eventually Suguru gives up, “Satoru, do you need something?

Ok, Gojo, do it like you managed to when you discussed fighting Tengen. (Such a stupid idea it was, so to speak). Just raise the important topic. Let him speak his mind. Listen to him.

Satoru tears his eyes from the window to see Suguru lying on top of the covers with his fingers intertwined on his chest. He put on gray sweatpants and a black tank top, both fresh out of machine wash. “You told me you don’t understand what’s the point in being a sorcerer”

Suguru heaves a sigh. Satoru trapped him in the corner, forced him to continue the conversation he probably wanted to delay. “I just thought I was doing it for non-sorcerers. Now I’m not sure about that” 

Satoru takes off his glasses and rubs his eyelids with one hand. He hasn’t felt drowsy is a while. Perhaps it’s the emotional turmoil. “Then do it for fellow sorcerers. Do it for me,” he offers. “Since you need something like that” 

Suguru finally meets Satoru’s eyes, just to throw a stone cold glare in his way. “What do you mean for you?” 

He flinches at the aggravated reaction. “You don’t know what to live for, so let’s live for each other,” he elaborates impatiently. 

Suguru clicks his tongue. “You are… you’re a hypocrite.” He crosses his arms, curling into himself. “You don’t need anything from me. You’re fine on your own” 

Satoru stands up. “But we were always together”  

“Until we were not. You moved on and I’m happy for you. Guess my job here is done” 

“You thought I was a job?” he asks louder than he meant to, startling Suguru. 

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean that,” He bites his lower lip, drawing blood and swipes his tongue over the torn skin to wipe it off. “Either way, you are better off without me — look how much stronger you got. So don’t offer something like that. I would only let you down” 

He couldn’t believe he began to cry until he put in his hands to feel the tears fall into his calloused palms. What’s going on, he enquires the hidden spot in his heart that all of sudden began bleeding. Everything hurts, as if he was hooked on painkillers for ages, but this time the relief never came. Is it what the air mask thing was all about? 

“If it’s true, why do I still feel like I need you here?” The teardrops crawl into his skin’s lines and cavities. “Every time you’re not around I get a little bit lost” 

Suguru’s cold demeanor disappears without a trace. He slowly stands up to envelop Satoru in his arms. 

“We only went apart for a few months and I already forgot how things used to be,” Satoru mumbles in between jerky breaths, “I can’t even remember what Amanai looked like anymore. You’re wrong, I’m no good on my own” 

At the sound of this name the first tear falls from Suguru’s eye. For minutes they hold each other tight, mourning the violent cycle of change.  

Satoru pulls away to speak his truth face to face. He has nothing else to contribute for now. “When I defeated Toji I felt so good, you can’t even imagine. I was floating in the sky and everything felt just right. Like the world was beautiful and impartial. Like I finally became who I was meant to be. And this whole year I’ve been chasing this feeling… this clarity. But it’s nowhere to be found” 

Suguru smoothes his thumbs over Satoru’s lower eyelids, driving the tears out. He cups both of Satoru's cheeks, cradling his face with fingers damp with tears of both of them. “But you enjoyed your life before that, didn’t you? Maybe there is some other source of this clarity and you just need to find it”

Satoru leans into the touch and closes his eyes. “I felt the same way when you were by my side” 

Suguru parts his lips, but no words come out. His hands fall to the sides.  

Before he could escape from the connection entirely, Satoru presses his cheek to Suguru’s and whispers near his ear, “I can’t trick you into believing something you find pointless. But all hell broke loose this summer and the cursed activity sucks us dry. So, please, just… Wherever you are, remember that we all need you. Even if it’s not enough”

Satoru presses their foreheads together and locks his eyes on Suguru’s. “I didn’t want to set myself up, but, honestly, it’s Haibara and Nanami who convinced me to visit you. They admire you. Shoko is worried sick, mad at herself because she cannot help you. And I… I regret every second we spent apart during this year. So, Suguru. In the dark days I will think of you and you will think of me. It’s just a bandage, ok? Until you make up your mind and find a new purpose that suits you best”  

He lays his head on Satoru’s shoulder. “I can try” 

Satoru smiles timidly and lifts his right pinkie finger. “Promise?” 

Suguru returns the smile and intertwines their fingers for a brief moment. “I don’t want to lie to you anymore. Even though I can’t tell you everything at once” 

“Fine by me” 

Suguru tilts his head. “Do you want to sleep over?” 

“Please.” He nods eagerly. 

Satoru takes off his uniform and borrows one of Suguru’s t-shirts. They walk to the communal bathroom, brush teeth in front of the same mirror and come back to get under the covers. 

While they’re facing each other Satoru reaches out to touch Suguru’s jaw. “You’ve got actual stubble. Are you sure you’re seventeen? I don’t even have facial hair” 

“You do have it, it’s just barely visible and I was helping you shave this ugly semblance of mustache every other month”

“I shaved it on my own lately and I always, always nick myself, ugh” 

He continues to trace Suguru’s prickly jawline and slowly shifts closer. He closes his eyes. 

Suguru catches his wrist. “Sorry. I… I like you. Very much so. But my mind is not in the right place”

Satori blinks, surprised. “It’s okay” 

“It’s been a long time. Can we, maybe, just be friends for now? When I get better, maybe we can try again” 

“Sure, Suguru. I’ll wait,” he whispers, hugs Suguru one more time and moves away, turning his back. Suguru’s breath evens out almost instantly. He must have been exhausted.

Satoru draws his right hand from under the covers and bites on the skin around his nails. Why is Suguru always the more considerate one, Satoru can’t help feeling his pride weep. He meant to comfort Suguru and rekindle their relationship, but ended up feeling even more confused. He spilled his guts when Suguru should have been the one to let go of the feelings that troubled him.  

Domain Expansion is nothing compared to understanding people. What else am I not good at? Am I even good at anything besides… he drives the thought away. He is not fond of self-reflection. Second-guessing always clouds your vision during a fight. Think too much and you’re done for. And fights always end in a triumph or defeat. He craves some sort of relief or at least a glimpse of conclusion. But they do not make good companions when what you are facing is not an action figure, but a human being, especially one as profound as Suguru. He really is the best of them, no matter from which angle you look at him. 

Companion. Friend. First, he needs to learn once again how to be a good friend for Suguru. He falls asleep with this thought for a lullaby. 

*** 

Suguru spits into a trash can at the back of the infirmary. Blood-soaked gauzes are stuck to every corner, the trash can is filled to the brim with them too. Haibara saved him and died on the next day. What a caricature of the world they are bound to.

Satoru picked up the slack. He called Suguru on the way to the mission. They brought back the habit of constantly being on the phone. He doesn’t know yet that Haibara didn’t make it. They spoke of mundane things. He asked if Suguru ate the meals he bought yesterday. He said he did, but actually he gave them away to the first years he stumbled upon at the dormitory. Satoru doesn’t need to know. 

What a ruthless guy. Do it for me. Suguru repeats this nonsense like a mantra. He would lose his mind right here, kneeling in front of a dismembered corpse, if he didn’t know that Satoru will come home soon, safe and sound, without a single drop of blood on the cuirass of his Infinity. 

Satoru has the status of a deity in the palm of his hand, yet he pretends that Suguru is all he has. And Suguru is… nothing at all as of now. Satoru claims he wants a man-shaped void instead of the great expanses above and under the sky. And he can’t help believing him because Satoru is genuinely all he has right now. He only has a friend, an army of curses and a deranged mind trapped inside the skull. At least this skull is intact, he comforts himself bitterly, eyeing the crimson stain on Haibara’s cloth-covered stomach. 

Still, the memory of last night warms his heart because Suguru saw his favorite person again. Not the almighty puppet operating under the name of Gojo. His Satoru — vulnerable, oblivious, absentminded — came back. 

He used to ponder why Satoru’s latest progress was so upsetting. Of course there was some jealousy involved, sure. They were always natural competitors and it only enhanced their relationship. In his heart of hearts, Suguru believed that he could put a mind to reaching some level akin to Satoru’s. Cursed Spirit Manipulation contains boundless options, as rich as the variety of cursed spirits. The problem is —  Suguru simply doesn’t want this power. 

It hurts. The acquisition of curses is unpleasant at best. 

Suguru never shied away from looking for Satoru’s approval. When he saw Satoru take so much pleasure from turning into a one-man army ready for service anytime, he couldn’t help thinking that it’s the only modus operandi left — Give your best and die trying. Yet it is incompatible with any spectrum of emotions. Weapons do not bleed, do not hurt. Weapons do not mourn something that happened a whole year ago. They remain unabashed in the face of their friends dying. 

Suguru feels and hurts and he’s certain that he has every right to, if only to honor the numerous victims of the jujutsu marathon. So when last night he saw that in fact Satoru still feels, too, it sent tremendous relief straight into his tainted soul. He by no means rejoices watching Satoru hurt — but he selfishly relishes that they still bleed the same way. 

Suguru needs a distraction. Satoru will come home soon, he repeats in his head. 

“Nanami.” He turns around. “You need to get some rest. Satoru will take care of the mission” 

“How about he takes care of everything from now on?” Nanami scoffs with his voice completely wrecked. No one has ever heard him speak up, let alone scream, but Suguru just knows he was screaming when Haibara fell. Suguru gives one more glance to his cadaver.

He wouldn’t mind crying out, too, if Nanami wasn’t jumping from every loud noise. Suguru was going crazy over metaphorically losing his own best friend for the past few months, and Nanami has just lost his best friend in stupid, stupid material reality. 

Suguru grits his teeth instead. It is certainly not the best time to aver Satoru’s relation to the rest of the human race for the hundredth time. This argument is not only old, it is stillborn. Suguru is aware of the broad consensus, thank you very much.

He affirms his every slow step on the tiles, approaching Nanami carefully. In the same agonizingly slow fashion, he puts a hand on his shoulder. “Let me walk you to your room. I can read you a book out loud. Are you still stuck on Sei Shonagon? Can you get up?” 

*** 

Suguru wonders how soon Satoru is going to give up and leave him to rot in peace. He has got to be blind not to notice that Suguru isn’t the strongest anymore. He cannot even sustain the facade like he used to do gracefully for two years. Satoru is supposed to leave him behind. 

Instead, he breaks his back to meet Suguru before and after missions. Sometimes Satoru comes home for mere minutes in between his own assignments, just for the sake of it.

Yesterday Suguru had to stoop so low as to have Satoru help him stand upright in the shower. Satoru offered it without a second thought, yet throughout the slow coordinated visit to the showers Suguru was feeling like he was shamelessly desecrating his friend’s existence. Satoru Gojo was born for great endeavors, not to stand under the water in a hoodie and a pair of slippers, supporting the weight of a barely conscious person who reeks of dry sweat and urine. As Satoru was smoothing the shampoo into his black hair, he never ceased whispering, “I got you” and afterwards reassured Suguru that there are always good days and bad days, that he just had a bad day. 

He swore he’s not upset that Suguru hasn't had good days in a while. 

Suguru doesn’t want to kill everyone on sight as much as before he voiced the thought out loud for the first time — confiding to Shoko one night when they were doing homework together — but he still can’t douse the self-pity that crawls up his neck every time he swallows a curse. He is keen for the cross to the point of self-hatred; of course he doesn’t feel like eating — he’s fed up to death with his own martyrdom. 

In the days before Haibara’s funeral, Suguru wastes the rare free time along with Satoru and Shoko. They do not speak. Shoko meets them at the gates and they silently retreat to the communal lounge to watch TV. Suguru and she could stare at the rewinding weather report for hours if Satoru didn’t switch channels from time to time. Neither Shoko, nor Suguru feel like expressing their grief, because they can’t bear seeing the other distressed with the inability to find words that actually matter. Satoru interrupts the dolor with a remark or two about the images on the screen. 

He has only heard Shoko speak a full sentence once during these bad days. Again, as they were sharing the couch, she suddenly exclaimed, “Break this fucking thing!” pointing at the old air conditioner working a little too loudly. It was Satoru who granted her the favor since Suguru’s spirits would make the alarm go off, creating even more noise. They were dying from heat for the rest of the evening, watching the TV with the sound off, but the way the bare skin of their sweaty shoulders was sticking them together provided some sort of comfort. 

Nanami was nowhere to be seen. Suguru was knocking on his door thrice a day, but he never answered. 

The day of Haibara’s funeral is a very bad day. 

Shoko and Suguru share a black umbrella in front of the crematorium. She is slowly sipping on a cold coffee. Satoru sits on the edge of the bench next to Suguru, protected from the rain with his technique. Nanami volunteered to retrieve the ashes, but almost an hour has passed since he disappeared in the building. They wait patiently. 

“You know, guys” Shoko speaks at last. “It’s unfair” 

“Duh, Shoko,” Satoru rolls his eyes. 

“Not only the death,” Suguru gasps as he hears her pronounce the word. “Yaga made me write condolences to Haibara’s family. He didn’t attend the funeral. No one gives a shit. They didn’t even task an assistant to bring us here. We had to take a bus all the way from the suburbs just to pick up our friend’s ashes. The car rides are reserved only for the final destination now, I guess”

“Wasn’t it always this way?” Suguru mumbles. 

“Yes, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being afraid that I would have to drag one of you to the morgue tomorrow” 

Nanami comes out of the gates with an urn in his hands. When he spots them, he murmurs, “I hate it here” and walks past them toward the bus station. 

“Nanami, wait,” Suguru calls out. Nanami stops walking, but does not turn around. “Let’s spread some of his ashes together. We’ll send the rest to his family, of course,” he suggests. 

“I don’t appreciate pointless rituals, Geto-san” 

“Still. What was Haibara’s favorite place?” 

Nanami’s shoulders shake. “That vending machine on the side of the highway. He liked it most, to hang out with all of us in between classes, to listen to Gojo and Geto joke around” 

“What a simpleton,” Shoko says, looking at her feet. Satoru lifts his head to the sky to force the tears away. 

“Then let’s go there. All five of us” 

Nanami sighs, “Fine”. He smiles somberly at the notion that the urn in his hands is the fifth person. After all, the “Hai” part in his name meant “Ashes”. 

“Oh to dump the remains of your friend on the pavement. Best weekend ever,” Shoko breaks the silence on the road to the station. “We’re supposed to be crying our hearts out or something. Or, should have cried at least once after everything that happened in the past year. I never did. It’s like I don’t have any tears left”

“I don’t think I cried at least once ever since I enrolled here,” Nanami adds. 

Next to Suguru, Satoru grits his teeth, baring his canines. “You know, Shoko. You’ve got a point. Fuck the higher ups” 

“Fuck the higher ups,” she parrots. 

Suguru frowns, contemplative, and then nods along. 

“Indeed,” Nanami says. “But I don’t want to fight something bigger than my own life. I’m still leaving” 

“It’s fine. You’re just being reasonable,” Suguru pats his shoulder. 

Satoru stops walking, forcing everyone to direct their attention on him. “Guys. I promise right here that one day I’ll make a change. Haibara’s death won’t be for naught” 

“Disgusting. You sound like a historic general,” Nanami says, sporting a grimace. 

“Looking forward to it, you psycho.” Shoko raises her iced coffee can in his direction. 

“If you’re General Psycho, who am I? Colonel?” Suguru smiles. 

“You’re General Psycho’s personal advisor! I need your people skills, for I am uncouth, sir” 

They chuckle breathlessly. Haibara would have enjoyed the clumsy jokes. The bus approaches the station and they rush to occupy the seats in the back. All five of them, with Haibara’s ashes planted on the seat next to the window. 

Chapter Text

Shoko was not shaped for the vanguard. She is a professional witness. If the prophecy of a mole under the eye making your life full of tears is true, it manifests in the tears Shoko has to shed for those who died in her arms and for those who are so doomed they cannot afford to die. Gojo and Geto are the latter kind. Or, at least, she prays they are, because she can’t imagine a life where they are no more.

Born to a non-sorcerer family, Geto used to be a stranger to jujutsu society, just like Shoko and their juniors, so he is showing much more vulnerability compared to Gojo. He still thinks that being a sorcerer is a spiritual journey and every step must be a statement. To Gojo it’s just life. Mulling over the purpose of sorcery is like presenting an elaborate explanation as to why you bought mint flavored ice cream today instead of regular caramel.

As the sacred insignia of this secluded island of violence, Gojo was trained to be desensitized, so naturally he is infatuated with Geto’s vulnerability. Yet when Geto hurts, Gojo’s mind short circuits. If Suguru showed me that being vulnerable is so soft and pleasant, how can he be in so much pain? 

If Haibara and Nanami’s concern didn’t change Gojo’s mind, soon enough she wouldn’t have to worry for Gojo anymore. Yet he bounced back. “So it’s not just life?” she’d like to tease him. Looks like lately Gojo has been learning to hurt just to understand his friend one day. 

Shoko has learned only one thing from her own journey in the realm of sorcery. Mediocrity is a mercy. Every unique human being is a martyr by definition. Brilliant and gifted souls are like orchids or azaleas. They are to be grown with utmost tenderness. One false gesture ruins them for good, but if they do survive, they bloom splendidly. 

Two weeks ago Geto confided his darkest thoughts to her. “I’m losing it. Please don’t tell Satoru,” he begged.

Shoko was more hesitant to protest the idea of mass murder than she expected herself to be. She even shared Geto’s frustration to some extent — the way he was upset with the constant sacrifices of fellow sorcerers. Granted, just a month ago her own hands were covered in her junior’s blood up to the elbow. She had nothing to give Geto but a reminder that if he killed somebody, they would name him a curse user and he would be lost to Satoru and Shoko and Nanami forever. No moral observations. No indignation.

Geto, on the other hand, is sure he is a horrible person now that he regularly contemplates irredeemable crimes. Knowing that, he still entertains these thoughts, lets them corrupt his mind. 

When Shoko accidentally found out from an assistant manager where Geto was sent on mission, she immediately grabbed her phone, hastily dialed the number by heart and said, “Gojo, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing right now, we must run, and run fast.”

Furious at the absurdity of the idea to send a sorcerer to his native village for work, Shoko almost began throwing fists with the staff. She knew whose fault it really was, but initially the assistants refused to cooperate either. They wouldn’t tell her the exact location or aid her with the transport until Gojo came, ready to threaten them. That’s the only thing Shoko could outright respect in him: he doesn’t need an explanation, he’s unapologetically loyal when needed.  

Shoko is ready to lose a good friend if her anxious suspicions turn out to be misguided and Geto takes offense. Still, she is determined to make sure he is safe and still not a criminal. 

The puzzle pieces are forming a horrible image in her mind as she sits in the car with Gojo: the poor mental state, the temptation to kill, the remote village full of ignorant people, the unpleasant memories of being a sorcerer among this ordinary folk. After all, what if his parents turned out to be the victims? Has anyone considered that? Even the fact that Geto was supposed to go to the village with a colleague named Takashi who was denied the job in the last minute. The higher-ups told him to stay because they experience a shortage of sorcerers — since they are dying left and right thanks to someone’s excellent management — and because Geto is a special grade sorcerer expected to do everything by himself. 

As the car is driving along the serpentine road, the outline of the village appears at the foot of the hill to their right. Gojo instructs the driver to stop and they hastily get out of the vehicle. Shoko grips Gojo’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, locating the spot where Geto’s cursed energy resides most prominently and teleports them there. 

They find themselves inside the dark corridor inside a wooden house. Gojo hears Geto’s voice behind the wall, and a few stranger voices. Safe for Geto, Gojo’s eyes spot two adult non-sorcerers and two blots of unusual cursed energy in the farthest part of the room. They brace themselves for the performance. 

“Hello, sir, hello, madam, we are here to help our colleague,” Gojo exclaims, faking enthusiasm as they enter the room. 

The tatami room is almost empty, safe for two candleholders with only one candle lit. Geto is facing the two villagers, smiling politely with his hand raised. As soon as he acknowledges Satoru and Shoko’s intrusion, his hand falls to the side and his face acquires a guarded and hostile expression. 

The man and the woman he was talking to turn around to glare at the new figures in the room. 

As soon as Shoko’s eyes get used to the darkness and she examines the back of the room, she feels sick. Behind Geto there is a tall wooden cage with two children trapped inside. 

Gojo carefully walks toward Geto. The little girls tighten the grip on each other’s arms as his figure towers above them. 

Geto’s resolve crumbles. His eyes widen. “How… what are you doing here?” 

Shoko wants to pat herself on the back for trusting the intuition. The scene will chase her in nightmares. A teenage boy standing across two defenseless victims of inhuman atrocities with a look in his eyes that says, “I’ve seen enough. I’m out for blood”

Gojo strokes soothing circles on his best friend’s back, whispering softly some words only Geto can hear. He shakes his head at every phrase. 

Shoko attempts to push the villagers outside. “Please leave the room. My colleagues will finish the job,” she struggles to keep her voice free from anger as she puts each hand on their shoulders. 

The man sweeps her palm away aggressively,  “No way! I want to watch you finally kill these two demons” 

The woman joins, “Right, you’ve got to prove that you got rid of them!” 

Gojo keeps his hand on Geto’s back and sends the pair a murderous glare, uttering through his teeth, “Get the hell out before I kill you ” 

She knows he’s upset not for the children, but for his friend. Any sort of compassion will do, she reasons. 

Disgruntled, the villagers retreat and Shoko follows them to the exit, locking the door as soon as they step outside. 

Apparently the fight broke out in the moment she looked away. When she returns, Gojo has Geto pinned to the floor, his cheek pressed against the surface, right arm bent at the elbow behind his back.

“Get lost, Gojo! Who asked you to come here?” he shouts, scaring the children in the cage. 

Gojo’s voice remains paradoxically gentle, despite having to wrestle the person he’s talking to. “Ouch. You know I don’t like it when you call me by my last name”

Eventually Geto’s body relaxes and Gojo helps him sit up. He presses their foreheads together. “We’re here for you. It’s over” 

Geto stares at him with wide, unfocused eyes. “It’s not. I hate them. I hate them all. They must die,” he mumbles. 

Shoko crouches next to them and winds her arms around both of their necks. The three of them breathe the same air in silence for a few moments.

“Listen,” Shoko whispers in the warm space between their faces, “We get up, take the kids and leave. Get up and leave. Side by side. Keeping each other close” 

Gojo detaches from their circle first and draws a distance between himself and the cage. “Suguru, tell the girls to stick to the wall so I could break the damn thing” 

Shoko supports Geto as he stands up. He comes close to the cage and smiles softly at the girls, hiding the fury he was showing just a moment ago. 

“What is your name, little one?” he coos, addressing the girl with chestnut hair. 

“Na-nako” 

“And your sister?” 

Shoko didn’t notice at first, but they are twin sisters, indeed. 

“Mimiko,” the same girl answers. 

“My name is Geto Suguru. And these are my friends Satoru and Shoko. We came here to save you” 

Nanako mumbles something. 

“Sorry, Nanako, what is it?” 

“Show the ghost again” 

Mimiko tears her face from the crook of her sister’s neck, looking up and nodding along. 

Geto’s brows raise. “The ghost”

“A ghost that says ‘It’s okay’” Nanako clarifies. 

Geto’s smile turns fond. “Ah, the ghost. Sure” 

He summons a blue skull-shaped curse from the tip of his finger. It screeches “It’s okay, it’s okay” floating wavelike in the air. 

“Let the ghost soothe you while my friend opens the cage. Sounds good?” he asks. 

The children hum an affirmation, focusing on the cursed spirit. Geto turns his head, signaling Gojo to deliver the hit. 

While he is breaking the cage with his fist enhanced with pure cursed energy — Red is too destructive for such a small room and could accidentally harm the children — Shoko approaches the window and spreads the green linen curtain with her fingers. She squints through the tiny gap. 

The woman ended up disappearing, but the man is still pacing in front of the house. Shoko hums, glances at her friends, then back to the window and once again at Geto and Gojo. 

“You know what? You should get his ass” 

“Huh?” Geto and Gojo say in unison, staring at her incredulously. Nanako and Mimiko are set free and safe in Geto’s arms, gripping his neck.

“Gojo, look” 

He comes close to the window, using the Six Eyes to see what’s outside the closed curtain. “Throw his ugly mug back into this room. I’ll sit outside with the girls while you two beat him up good . But I’ve got to set two rules”

They nod obediently, dumbfounded by the idea. 

“Rule one — no killing. Knock out his teeth, crack his skull, leave him hanging by a thread — whatever. Just skip the homicide. You heard me, Joker?” she points her finger at Geto. 

He releases a heavy sigh. “Fine. Rule two?”

“No cursed techniques. No, Gojo, not even Infinity. You need to feel it in your bones. Natural wounds are just much quicker to heal. When you’re done I’ll patch him up and we’ll leave. The rest is history. Get ready to become the subjects of nightmarish rural legends of township Whocares, prefecture Nowhere” 

“It’s—“

“I don’t care what it’s called. Geto-yama, Sugu-shima, if you will” 

Gojo gapes at her. “I could kiss you” 

“Spare me the gross sentiments. Kiss your knuckles instead, send a mean right hook and tell it’s from Shoko” 

“Deal.” He sends two thumbs-up her way. 

“Blow off some steam, but don’t drag it for hours. The little ones need rest” 

Shoko takes the girls’ hands and they all go outside. Geto and Gojo raise the sleeves of their white shirts on the way. 

The villager doesn’t get a chance to register what’s going on when two livid young men set off to do just as they were told. 

She sits on the steps with Nanako and Mimiko as the scandalous holler leaks from inside the building. The biggest drawback of Shoko’s plan to let her boys release frustration was the possibility that the girls would get scared of the aggression their saviors are showing. But they listen impassively to the sounds of fight. Mimiko draws shapes on the dirt with a wooden stick. Perhaps they understand that they’re being avenged for. 

At some point the walls seem to tremble with the bloodthirsty way one of them pushes their breathing punching bag. 

“Oh, that was some big scream,” Shoko whistles. She craves to savour a cigarette to the melody of sheer violence, but refrains from smoking next to children. 

Nanako cheers, throwing her hands up and clapping, but then stops herself. Shoko smiles and shakes her head, encouraging the child to behave as she pleases. They take turns counting the screams and guessing who exactly threw the punch. 

Eventually, the hidden scene turns quiet. Shoko figures that they’re almost done. 

Suddenly Mimiko lifts her hand and points her stick at the glimpses of light in the distance. Shoko rushes to bring the children back inside. 

***

The villager was rendered mincemeat in a matter of minutes. With his unconscious body lying between their feet, Satoru and Suguru stare at each other, chests heaving.

Satoru is fairly certain that his own reason for punishing that man was completely different from Suguru’s. He is furious because two oblivious sadists and some dozens of their accomplices ruined all his efforts to lighten Suguru’s condition. He doesn’t pride himself for stepping up, that’s what he was supposed to do before everything went out of hand. Still, he was patient and caring and ready to bend over backwards if it meant  Suguru could wake up with a smile of relief one day. Then some strangers treaded on the sprouts of recovery without an ounce of shame. 

“Man, Shoko should become a therapist or something,” Satoru points out with his eyes gleaming. “I’d pay for this” 

Suguru steps over the body. He lifts the edge of his white untucked shirt and smoothes the fabric over Satoru’s face, wiping a bloodstain under his right eye. He’s still catching his breath, his eyes heavy-lidded. His hair tie got lost in action, bangs sticking to his forehead. Two buttons of his shirt — the ones on the collar and in the middle of his chest — are missing. Satoru’s fingers slowly encircle his wrist. 

“Maybe it’s the adrenaline talking,” Satoru whispers. “But you are really fucking beautiful right now” 

For the record, this settles that friendship is over. For the record, Satoru sucks at friendship — no — Suguru is simply not a friendship material. Satoru’s hands reach for Suguru on their own volition. They meet each other halfway for a painful and uncoordinated kiss. Their bloody fingertips leave traces on each other’s skin and Satoru’s hair. 

Suguru pushes him against the wall. Satoru hits his head from the impact; it pacifies them. “Sorry,” Suguru cradles the back of Satoru’s head, cups his cheek with the other hand and plants brief chaste kisses on his lips. 

They pull away when Shoko breaks into the building. 

Suguru covers Mimiko’s eyes with his palm so that she wouldn’t see in what state they left the villager. Nanako refused the favor. She gazes at the man on the brink of death with unmistakable  satisfaction on her face. 

“You really got him good,” Shoko remarks, crouching in front of the villager. “Shit, I stepped on his tooth”

Satoru guards the open door as she is applying Reverse Cursed Technique on the unconscious body. Sweat drips from her face. Perhaps such a mutilated object of care is a tough patient. 

A group of people led by the woman they’ve already seen is slowly approaching them, holding candles and various rusty instruments. 

Before they could come closer, two strangers — a man and a woman — cross the front yard, appearing from the side of the building. The woman, short and scrawny, with a long braid, jumps over the wooden gate and assumes a protective pose: feet wide apart, hands on her hips. Suddenly, her back looks much wider from the mere attitude she is showing.

The man follows her, but he uses the gate as intended. His body barely fits between the pillars. 

A screaming match escalates into pushes and shoves. 

Satoru doesn’t know what to focus on: the brawl or the fact that their brand new brothers in arms resemble this married couple from Fullmetal Alchemist — the austere teacher of the main characters and her portly husband. He struggles to keep a straight face. The dexterous woman lands a few punches, knocking the wrench out of some man’s hand. 

“Suguru! There’s infighting. Should we intervene?” Satoru sticks his head inside for a single moment. He doesn’t want Suguru to miss the blockbuster happening under their noses. 

As soon as Suguru steps on the porch and gets the full view, he squeezes Satoru’s shoulder, hard. 

Satoru studies his shocked face. “Are you alright? Close your mouth” 

A trail of sweat slides from Suguru’s temple. He doesn’t tear his eyes from the scene. 

“Satoru,” he says. “Meet my family”

Now it’s Satoru’s turn to gape. “Huh? These two?” 

“Yup,” he nods firmly. 

Okay, this family rocks, capital R. They should have been a clan. The Zenins wouldn’t stand a chance. Satoru brushes Suguru’s hand off of his shoulder gently. Interlocking his fingers and clapping the heels of his palms, Satoru appears right between the couple and the rest of the crowd. 

Satoru casts the tiniest sphere of Blue around the perimeter, breaking the windows of the houses nearby, and the shattering glass distracts the villagers from the fight. The woman who turned out to be Suguru’s mother uses the moment of forced truce to turn around and recognizes her son on the steps. She nudges her husband’s shoulder and points at Suguru. He responds with a faint wave. 

“Yo!” Satoru shouts. “That’s enough! Now clear the path for us and this lovely married couple or this glass will land square in your faces” 

He raises the bits of glass in the air for good measure. 

“He’s a demon, too!” someone exclaims. 

“Exactly! And this demon is in a bad, bad mood. You are free to collect your stupid buddy after we leave”

The villagers get out of the way to let Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and the girls walk out of the gate. Suguru’s parents lead them. Satoru grins maniacally at the strangers. He lets the glass fall to the ground only once he is the last to detach himself from the crowd.

***

They are walking the narrow trails toward the Geto household. 

“Satoru, stop carrying Mimiko like a cat,” Suguru chastises him when he holds the girl by the armpits and her legs shake from side to side.

Satoru sticks his tongue in retaliation and plants Mimiko on his shoulders instead. She begins stroking his hair, fascinated with the color — or its absence. 

Suguru’s mother looks at them sideways, stretching her arms above her head. “I guess I should thank these two adorable dolls for forcing you to visit your old folks at last, Ruru. It’s been a whole year since I saw your face,” she says. 

Suguru snorts. “Indeed. How did you even find out?” 

“A neighbor told Sachiko that a boy who looks like our son, a girl and some scary gentleman with blue eyes locked themselves inside an abandoned house with the Hasaba twins. You sent us pictures of your friends. So we decided to follow the crowd,” his father explains. 

“Gentleman,” Shoko chuckles. 

“So you knew about the abuse?” Suguru questions him. Shaking his head, he doesn’t look surprised, more like disappointed with the obvious. 

“No, we thought the whole family moved away a month ago. When these people said that you were sent here to get rid of the twins, we couldn’t wrap our minds around it. After all, our son would never hurt somebody for no reason,” Sachiko clarifies. 

Suguru’s face loses any accent of clear emotion. Nanako yawns in his arms and nuzzles her cheek against his neck, pushing him out of the reverie. He cradles her closer and kisses her greasy forehead. 

Sachiko continues, “And the crowd was obviously angry that you didn’t fulfill their wishes. So we rushed to protect you” 

Satoru bursts out laughing. Everyone stares at him. Suguru puts a finger against his mouth, annoyed. “Sorry! You were just so cool when I saw you blocking the gate” 

“Thanks, buddy-boy,” Sachiko says. “It’s nice to finally meet you, by the way. Ruru speaks about you all time” 

“The pleasure is mine, Geto-san,” he lowers the sunglasses and winks. 

“Are you sure you need your glasses at night? Is that some sort of conspiracy?” 

“Mom, that’s rude. His eyes are sensitive”

“Oh, my bad” 

Chapter Text

No matter how thoroughly Satoru tried to fight for it over the phone, the school forbade Mimiko and Nanako from coming back with them and staying at the dormitory. After pacing around the front yard in a fruitless hour-long argument, he steps inside Suguru’s old home. He finds Shoko and Suguru waiting in the corridor, eager to find out about the outcome. 

Suguru has already washed the blood off of his bare skin and put on a change of clothes that are a size too small — old garments belonging to the younger Suguru. Satoru can’t help reminiscing about the friendly and assertive fifteen year old boy whom everyone has failed. The one who went first to apologize to Yaga for their misbehavior and went last to have rest when Shoko was so unused to seeing blood that she couldn’t sleep. The one who chose the smallest portion when they were sharing a cake for Satoru’s first birthday spent with peers. The one who praised the guests from Kyoto sister school for their close combat skills despite belonging to a way higher league. Satoru’s memory carefully preserves everything, even the pointless squabbles and that first bloodthirsty fight they had — over Satoru’s choice of the same uniform jacket design. It had ended when Suguru asked, “Don’t you want to stand out?” anxiously blowing away the strand of his hair that was barely reaching his shoulder back then. “You chose the best one,” Satoru replied, “Now everyone knows we’re the best”. 

Satoru shakes his head to convey the failure to negotiate. He doesn’t want to recount the interaction. Jujutsu Tech didn’t just refuse to help the children. Yaga said the administration is not in the mood to do favors because lately Satoru’s performance was lousy. Who even uses this word anymore? They said he may start making requests when he gets back to business. He can’t get it out of his head. 

Satoru began refusing some assignments because he needed to spend more time with Suguru, but all the work he did accept, he completed fast and with jeweler’s precision — again, to come home sooner and avoid making Suguru worry about him. 

“What are we going to do? They cannot stay here for too long, it’s dangerous.” Disenchanted, Suguru presses his temple against the wall, crossing his arms to ground himself. The fervor of the fight vanished, leaving the space for deep mental and physical exhaustion. 

Satoru takes off the sunglasses and rubs his eyes, “No idea, man” 

“Guys, you should boycott them,” Shoko suggests. “Keep your head low until they change their mind. I would stay, too, but my absence harms people. And the absence of two special grades is simply unprofitable for the elders. I will come back and report about the girls’ condition and the epic rural resistance movement. You wait. Besides, you two could use some rest far away from the trenches”

“Fine by me.” Satoru really doesn’t want to return to school right now. 

Suguru purses his lips and walks away into the living room adjacent to the kitchen. Satoru and Shoko follow him. 

“You don’t have to worry, Suguru! I’ll keep watch all night long in case someone dares break in” 

“No, it’s not that,” he puts both arms around himself, facing away from his friends. 

“What is it, then?” Shoko asks softly. 

“I was about to kill a bunch of people,” he lowers his voice, “even my own parents”

“Yet you didn’t,” she protests.  

“What if I change my mind?” he hesitantly turns around. He looks genuinely confused and even a bit scared. 

Satoru shrugs nonchalantly. “I won’t let you. Simple as that. You can plot anything in that head of yours, I don’t mind your thoughtcrimes. I simply won’t let you ruin your life,” he answers confidently.  

Shaking his head, Suguru huffs a bitter laugh. “Could you at least judge me a little?” 

“We love you, idiot,” Shoko says. “If people didn’t turn your life into a dumpster fire, you’d be up and about impressing us with your brilliant mind and big heart. You will beat this mess one day and make us all proud” 

Satoru smiles brightly in solidarity. Suguru comes closer and bows to lay his head on Shoko's shoulder for a few moments, wearing a soft smile, too. 

Satoru folds the sunglasses and leaves them on the kotatsu in the middle of the room. “Ok, I need to wash off this assassin makeover with the longest shower known to man”

Suguru perks up. “Hey! Save us some water. There’s six people in this house” 

Shoko plants a cigarette in between dry lips and takes out her phone. “Five. I’ll ask the assistant manager to give me a lift ASAP. Someone’s got to stare daggers at Yaga all day every day” 

***

Satoru stays up all night as promised, the lower half of his body warm under the dark red kotatsu in the living room next to the genkan. He is watching nightly comedy shows. Suguru nagged him about taking turns guarding the house, but he insisted that Suguru get a full night’s sleep. 

The jokes fall onto deaf ears. Satoru ponders two things: the lousy performance atrocity and his first kiss. He couldn’t imagine that it would happen in a remote village after beating some stranger into pulp. Moreover, he didn’t even memorize the sensation because his nerves were overcome with a vague mixture of satisfaction and disillusionment. He certainly owes Shoko one for whatever insight had them rushing to the countryside.  

Still. First kiss. With Suguru Geto. 

Does it count as progress or was it a spur of the moment type of thing? Satoru wishes Suguru belonged to him already. His patience came running thin from the moment he agreed to wait. As soon as he began spending time with Suguru again, Satoru got unapologetically addicted to his presence. Even at his worst, he is… enigmatic in Satoru’s eyes. Busy and indisposed as he is, he waters the houseplants in the lounge when everyone else forgets to do it in their turn. He chews on his pen during English classes, genuinely anxious about poor ability to memorize vocabulary, but only listens to peculiar American music, saying that the harmonies are way smoother than in Japanese pop music — whatever that means. His every movement, whether at the kitchen, or at the changing room, or at the gym feels rehearsed, because Satoru cannot fathom how someone could be distinguished and charismatic all the time. 

While Satoru’s mind is still displaying a supercut of every trivia featuring Suguru, his eyes sense Sachiko approaching before she appears on the stairs at last. “Do you mind if I join you, Satoru-kun? I have some trouble sleeping after this eventful night,” she says a tad too loudly for someone who is speaking in a house full of sleeping people. 

“Not at all,” he tucks his long legs under his knees to give her space under the covers. 

In the blue glow of the screen he studies her appearance. Turns out, Suguru’s handsome face pays tribute to his mother's natural, humble beauty. They are both nothing short of delicate. Suguru’s father is quite the opposite; he has full lips and a large nose, unruly dark brown hair and tanned skin. A working man. Suguru inherited his sharp jaw and his height, but that’s it. 

Sachiko stares back. “Damn, you are a heartbreaker”

He frowns. “Pardon?” 

“You looked like a cartoonish villain back there, but now I see that you are a ridiculously handsome young man. Good for you! I bet you drive girls crazy” 

He wishes he could be as straightforward as her and outright ask for her blessing. At least he would look good on family pictures. “Oh, ha-ha! I mean, I’m not into dating, really. So everyone’s hearts are safe from damage” 

Everyone’s but his, because this woman’s son has it in an iron grip. 

Sachiko yawns, covering her mouth. “How can you stay up all night like that? You don’t even look tired”

Satoru mutes the sound of the TV and plants the remote controller on the table. 

He knows he’s about to go against the rules without even consulting Suguru first. Yet he wants him to be understood by his next of kin. God knows he could use some unconditional love right now. Satoru crosses his fingers behind his back, the same seal he forms when training his Domain, but this time he merely prays for good luck and boundless empathy. 

“Geto-san, I’m sure you already suspect that the high school Suguru and I go to is not a religious institution” 

“You bet,” she shrugs. “But I’m not going to confront him. He’s obviously not feeling well. Never saw him forget to brush his hair after shower” 

It amuses Satoru that in spite of everything else — the blood on her son’s face, his tired eyes or reckless savior impulse — only the image of Suguru breaking a habit convinced her that he is somewhat unwell. 

Satoru exhales slowly to compose himself. “They sent him here to investigate mysterious deaths. People are supposed to think they were accidental, but actually… There are supernatural causes to these cases. We take care of them”

Sachiko squints. “Supernatural, huh?” 

“Yeah, sounds absurd. The truth of the matter is, Suguru and I, and Shoko and everyone around us practice magic. Professionally” 

“That’s how you lifted broken glass in the air?” 

“Right,” he snaps his fingers. “We call it a cursed technique. Everyone has their own. And ordinary people can’t see it” 

“What else can you do?” 

Satoru extends his right arm above the table. “Let us shake hands” 

Sachiko hesitantly reaches for Satoru’s hand. When their palms are almost touching, she makes an effort to complete the gesture, but her fingers linger one breath away from Satoru’s skin. “I can’t touch you, boy” 

“Exactly,” Satoru keeps his hand in place to let her probe the obstacle. “It is one of my abilities. If I wish so, no one and nothing can touch me” 

The woman tries to pat his shoulder to no avail. She tentatively reaches to stroke Satoru’s unruly fringe. Her fingers linger on the peculiar sensation of touching the edge of Infinity. Satoru grins, humored with her curiosity. 

She lets go and begins to tap her fingers on the table, unnerved. 

“Ask away!” Satoru encourages her. 

“How do you acquire these abilities?” 

“You’re either born with it, or not.” Sachiko opens her mouth to protest. “I know what you’re thinking. You are unlike us, yet Suguru has a cursed technique. Indeed, it’s strange in and of itself. His ability is also extremely rare. People always marvel at it. I, on the other hand, was born in a family full of sorcerers” 

“Is this always such a dangerous profession?” Suguru’s mother asks. I recognize this caring nature, Satoru wants to point out. 

He would gladly avoid answering this question, but can’t afford to stay silent long enough to raise suspicion. He wants to laugh at the fact that tonight’s disaster wasn’t even worth the epithet ‘dangerous’ in comparison to their past experience. 

“Sometimes it is,” Satoru muses, “But Suguru and I — by the standards of our society — are top notch. We can effortlessly protect ourselves. And people respect our skill”  

He can’t tell that respect for a special grade sorcerer usually emanates from fear and that their strength is easier to describe in terms of damage they are capable of inflicting. 

Quiet sobs release him from dubious thoughts. He looks at Sachiko, her tears shine in the electric glow of the silent screen. 

“Geto-san. Are you alright?”

She rushes to wipe her face. “I’m fine. Everything just makes sense now” 

“How come?” 

“Suguru always insisted on taking care of people. Like he didn’t expect to be on the receiving end at any time. Like he decided to be generous to pay back for something. At times he seemed so aloof. To be honest, Tatsuki and I never knew how to approach him even when my very mother's instinct was screaming that something bothered our only son. I regret that I didn’t try harder” 

Satoru takes his time to answer. It was reasonable for Suguru to hide it from the family of non-sorcerers — especially in this waste land. Still, he ended up training himself to be secretive, and Satoru doesn’t appreciate this trait of his. He relates to Sachiko’s concern on the deepest level. 

“I’m not sure he aims to pay back for something. He’s just like that. But it fits his personality, this technique of his. He consumes certain entities born from negative emotions. We call them cursed spirits. So, basically, he absorbs all the evil, sadness, grief and fear that other people carry within. Everything most people can’t even recognize inside themselves, he processes on a physical level. On emotional too, I suppose. Isn’t it a lot like him? He is this sensitive in daily life too” 

“Indeed. What happens to these entities? When he absorbs them”

“He can use them as a weapon”

“Well, I hope he learns to benefit from his own hardships too” 

Satoru isn’t sure Suguru deserves them in the first place, but voicing that thought would only provoke questions about the nature of the said hardships. He takes his glasses off. He wants to deflate from the topic. The continuation of entertainment is all he finds as a solution. “I also have these eyes”. 

Sachiko perks up and shifts closer to admire the color. “Well, if they are supernatural too, they sure look the part.” 

“They can see everything. Even if I close or cover them, I can still see clearly” 

“Everything… So they can look into the soul or something? Read minds?” 

He doesn’t know what to say. This unintentional insight wounds his very core. “No.” He hangs his head. “They just see the magic in all the details. As for souls… I’m really not good with that. Pathetic, to be honest. I almost missed the way Suguru was feeling. Could have lost him just like that.” 

She smiles sadly and grasps his hand. The technique lets her. “That’s for the best, ain’t it? You’ve got your limits” 

“Limits, huh? Since when mistakes are for the best? I’m weak in all the wrong ways.” Satoru can barely tolerate meeting Sachiko’s eyes. If his hands weren’t in her reverent grasp, he’d reach for his glasses immediately to cover a least a part of the shame. 

“The act of seeing it’s… deeply personal, right? No one looks at the world the same way. If you really could see everything, you wouldn’t be your own self” 

“But then it means that my sight is no different from the other’s. These eyes just see magic differently” 

“You are more than your magic, Satoru-kun. Both of you. It obviously makes a big part of your life, since it’s your… profession. And I’ve been a pediatrician for my whole life, but I’m not just a doctor, I’m also a wife, a mother, a friend. An amateur gardener, a fan of unrealistic historical tv-series,” she smiles lopsidedly, but after a moment seriousness returns to her elegant face as she holds Satoru’s bare gaze. She could tie him into a knot if she wished so. Seeing right through him runs in the family, he supposes. “You are a whole person full of layers, just like me and everyone else” 

Gojo’s lousy performance, he imagines how the voice of a total stranger chastises him from outside the facade in the dimly lit room. He begins to get it now. They do not approve when he chooses to do anything other than sorcery. 

And the problem is — he loves sorcery. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He does not enjoy the repercussions their elders create, but he doesn’t sympathize with the Hasaba twins either. He wouldn’t waste his breath over the phone tonight if it wasn’t for Suguru’s sake. 

It puzzles him why Suguru always needs something more than sorcery. Suguru’s  eyes… they are always seeing some bigger picture that is completely unavailable to Satoru. 

He smiles wistfully. “Thank you, Geto-san. And thank you for Suguru. He is,” he scratches his head. “I don’t have the words” 

“God, he’s something else. He said he is determined to become a father to these twins,” Sachiko shakes her head. “At least he didn’t get some girl pregnant” 

Satoru chuckles. “Well, I mean, his own kids would look like angels! Imagine if he had a daughter, all soft features, Suguru’s eyes and long black hair,” he says, selfishly hoping Suguru never has a wife and daughter and lives with him instead, surrounded by a bunch of adoptees. Unlike Satoru, he obviously loves children, so Satoru can give him that. 

His cell phone buzzes in the pocket of the borrowed shorts. Finding clothes for him was a disaster since none of Suguru’s old trousers fitted his height while Tatsuki’s sumo wrestler garments were slipping from his hips no matter how creatively he tried to buckle them up. Fishing the phone out, Satoru sees Yaga’s contact. Apparently Shoko The Messenger arrived on the hostile territory. 

He declines the call. 

***

They have spent the first two days in Suguru’s old bedroom, teaching the twins to read (much to Suguru’s chagrin, no one bothered to teach them reading in hiragana or even writing their names with it), or playing old board games together.

Now that Satoru made sure that no one plans to attack the household, he sleeps on a futon in the same room. He wakes up at dawn and goes outdoors for a few mile run. Exploring the countryside on his way, running through the old cemetery he has found a spacious patch of grass almost completely surrounded by forests. He goes there every morning to exercise Domain Expansion. 

This morning Suguru agreed to join him and they rode bicycles to the sunlit field. Suguru sits under a juniper tree on the edge of it and reads a novel while Satoru continuously repeats the same manual gesture. Even though he figured out how to manifest the Void itself, the barrier around the domain still ends up almost transparent. 

“Could you please summon some flying motherfucker for me to trap inside the domain and watch them try to escape?” Satoru calls out from the center of the field. He wears one of Tatsuki’s numerous baseball caps to avoid a sun stroke. Used to working outdoors in construction, the man has an impressive collection. Today Satoru picked the red cap with a pokeball embroidered in the middle. “Gotta catch ‘em all!” 

Suguru’s face regained some color after mere days of long-deserved vacation. His eye bags almost disappeared; his posture became relaxed and fluid. 

Suguru’s eyes do not leave the pages of Yukio Mishima’s Sea of Fertility, “I’m not wasting precious artillery. Plus the damage you do to the curse could possibly ricochet right at yours truly” 

Satoru crosses his hands, pouting. Suguru sighs and puts the book away, patting the spot next to himself under the shadow of the tree. He gives Satoru a stern look, urging him to sit down. 

“I thought we decided to have a vacation. Why are you breaking your back?” Suguru asks. 

He takes off the baseball cap and lays it on the ground. His hair is damp from sweat. “Maybe they’ll cut us some slack and let the twins in if I get better,” he lies. He just misses the firm feeling of control when he’s casting Limitless. 

“So your skill is a commodity now,” Suguru arches a brow. 

“When wasn’t it, brother?” 

Satoru wishes he could slap his own cheek for calling his crush brother. He might get the wrong idea. He drowns in self-deprecation, watching the crows land on the ground, searching for worms and insects in the pits of bare soil Satoru’s technique left.

“If you enjoy it, go on for all I care.” Suguru uncovers his intentions with ease. He picks up the book and begins searching for the page he paused on. “But if they persevere, I’m ready to entrust Nanako and Mimiko to my parents until I graduate” 

Satoru steals the book from his hands. “You’re kidding!” 

“Why so surprised?” he squints incredulously. Apparently, he inherited this mannerism from Sachiko. 

Satoru uses the book as a fan to cool off his sunburned cheeks. “You were ki-i-ind of contemplating mass murder just five days ago and now you’re saying you are chill with leaving two sorcerer children for normal folk to raise”

“I guess I want to give them a chance. Who could teach me to love people again better than my own family? Besides, they are adults and they managed to raise me.” Suguru stretches his hand, reaching for the book. “Give back my Mishima!” 

Oh my god. Satoru cheers to himself, That’s him! My Suguru is coming back. Dodging Suguru’s hand, Satoru raises the book close to his left ear. He flips through the pages to listen to the old paper rustle. “What is he writing about?” 

“The book won’t magically whisper words to you. You’re supposed to read it.” Suguru blushes. “It tells the story of this guy about our age who wants to become a lawyer. He is keen on exploring justice in ancient and buddhist law. And he has this enigmatic best friend — beautiful, privileged and interesting, but way too absentminded. The friend dies in the end of the first novel. And in the next three novels the lawyer guy meets people who apparently are incarnations of his dead friend. And he wants to save his friend from the cycle of reincarnation,” he explains, obviously infatuated with the story. “But I’ve only read the first one so far” 

Satoru throws the book on top of Suguru’s lap and rests his head on his right shoulder, nuzzling his temple against the soft fabric of the baggy olive hoodie.

***

Satoru insists on another hour of training until his head hurts from the cursed energy exposure and intense sunlight. They come back home for lunch. 

Sachiko serves bowls of rice and miso broth with tofu and shiitake, fresh vegetables, cups of cold herbal tea — sweetened citrus tea for Satoru — and sets a big plate of dumplings on the center of the table. The girls sit in the living room. They are calmer when having a meal not surrounded by a crowd. 

Suguru strokes anxious Mimiko’s hair and switches the TV programs with his free hand to find the kids’ channels, asking Nanako to choose the one she prefers. 

After two sleepless nights, Satoru discovered that this family installed a rather impressive assortment of channels regardless of the remote location. He didn’t even have a TV set back at the estate until he turned ten. 

Satoru sits down on the floor in front of the low table along with the parents. 

Having made sure that Nanako and Mimiko are serene and distracted with the TV, Suguru rushes to join his family in the kitchen.

As everyone else collects their meals, Suguru patiently waits for them to fill their plates. 

Tatsuki’s brows raise, his stubbly chin already damp with drops of broth. “Son, why so humble? Dig in! I see you lost some weight” 

Suguru shakes his head with a polite smile. “It’s fine. Remember, I’ve never been much of an eater” 

“When you were a kid you ate well” 

He plants one dumpling after the other on top of his rice to comfort the doting parent. 

“Ruru, do you have trouble eating because of your magic?” Suguru’s mother asks. 

Holy shit, Sachiko. Satoru hides his face behind the miso bowl.

Wide-eyed, Suguru drops his chopsticks along with a dumpling. “What magic?” 

“Relax, Satoru told me everything. He said you eat earth spirits,” she waves him off. 

“Cursed spirits,” Satoru corrects her.

Suguru stares at him, swirling an index finger against his own temple, are you mental? 

“I remember how ever since elementary school the nurse would call me up a couple of times every semester because you fainted from malnutrition. She was sure we were some kind of dysfunctional family, but I always told her we fed you well. I checked your health in my hospital, too and everything was just fine,” Sachiko elaborates nonchalantly. “You skipped meals. It’s because of your magic, right?” 

“It is,” Suguru says plainly, bowing his head. 

Satoru sets down his own utensils. He doesn’t feel like eating anymore, either. 

*** 

Suguru prunes the bushes in the backyard while Mimiko and Nanako play with plastic cups inside the sandbox that Tatsuki built with wooden boards. Satoru sits on the grass against the edge of the sandbox and stares daggers at Suguru’s profile. 

He keeps a cigarette between his teeth as he moves his elbows confidently, slashing the stray and crusty branches and letting them fall beneath his thick rubber boots. His parents don’t mind him smoking, since Tatsuki is a heavy smoker, too. Yet Suguru asked his father not to smoke indoors while Satoru is visiting — like the considerate jerk he is. 

Eventually Suguru drops the gardening sheers, walks toward Satoru and leans forward until he reaches Satoru’s eye level. 

“Get your smoke away from my face!” Satoru throws a handful of sand at his blue cargo pants. 

He straightens his back and crosses his arms. “Your earth energy is all over the place. What are you even mad about? It’s your slip” 

“You never told me why you have trouble eating. We were friends for three years and I had no idea! I never keep secrets from you!” 

Suguru throws the cigarette into the steel bucket next to the bushes — and misses. “You have no secrets to keep. You’re perfectly agreeable” 

Satoru rolls his eyes. “I mean, I get why you concealed your evil agenda. But this? There’s nothing to hide here” 

“If I told anybody, they’d find me even weaker than I already am”

Satoru honest to god retches, and not from the smoke. He stands up and digs his fingers into Suguru’s shoulders before he could flee back toward the bushes. 

“Come to your fucking senses. Why do you tolerate everyone’s quirks and issues but your own? That’s just unfair, you’re being unfair to my favorite person!” 

“Stop cursing in front of little children”

“Not my point!” 

Suguru frowns hard and peers at the ground between their feet. 

“They taste like filth and vomit. Every time I swallow a curse, I get nauseous for hours. If it’s a tough one, a semi-first grade or higher, I can’t eat for days. Since I have to repeat it all the time, malnutrition is a part of my lifestyle” he gabbles away. 

“Ha, clocked you!” Satoru spreads his arms in mock triumph, “You just got blacklisted for the audacity to ever have problems. Friendship’s over. Bye!” Satoru pointedly walks a few steps away. 

Suguru ignores him, looking for Nanako. She smiles at him and waves a pink plastic cup in the air.  

“Yes, this is exactly how your self-conscious nonsense looks like in action,” Satoru calls for his attention. 

“Nanako, dear, could you please move that metal lever behind your back?” he says. The girl gets up from the ground and complies. 

Satoru didn’t notice the green rubber hose under his feet until water bursts through it. His technique doesn’t let in a single drop, but he jumps away, startled. “You!” he shouts, grabbing the wriggling hose with both hands. 

Suguru hides behind the greenhouse. When Satoru traps him between its wall and the wooden hedge, he summons some small flat sea creature to shield himself, but Satoru jumps into the air to pour water at him from above. 

He loses the battle when Mimiko turns back the lever, whining, “Stop, Gojo! Geto-sama will get all wet” 

“That was the plan!” he retaliates. 

“You don’t stand a chance. I have allies,” Suguru grins. 

Satoru drops the hose, grabbing Suguru’s elbow instead. In the blink of an eye he sends them both above the roof. 

In the freefall he makes Suguru drop right into his arms.

“This is how you are supposed to trust me” he says as they hover in the air just a meter away from the roofing slate. “When you fall, I catch you” 

Shivering, Suguru clings to him for dear life but keeps his offended glare steady. “You are so melodramatic. Put us back down” 

He scoffs. “Spoilsport” 

Landing them gently on the rooftop, Satoru switches their positions and lets himself fall right on top of Suguru, straddling his hips. He almost forgot what they were fighting about until a realization dawned on him. He slaps a fist on his open palm. “I get it now. When your technique forces you to taste vomit every day, you can’t help double-checking the means and ends. You need to know exactly what’s the purpose of going through this torture. So it wasn’t just righteous bullshit all this time, am I right?”

Suguru simply smiles in affirmation, his face softens. 

“See, this is why you need to tell me things. I’m clueless as hell.” Far away from everyone’s ears, he decides to bite the bullet, leaning close to Suguru’s face and whispering, “You owe me a kiss now” 

“Boys what the fuck!” Sachiko startles them. 

Under the roof, three pairs of shocked eyes desperately try to comprehend how they ended up there. Mimiko and Nanako look even angrier than the woman. 

Suguru pushes Satoru away. “Mom, stop cursing in front of little children! You’re worse than the earth magician,” he points at Satoru. 

“I’m the air magician!” 

Chapter Text

That morning, when Satoru was getting ready to head to the makeshift training field, Suguru suggested that they go hiking instead. 

There is a trail curving toward the top of the mountain that he particularly likes. The route finds itself on the northern border of his home village. Suguru’s old friends always refused to join his exploration of the wooded trail because this part of the forest is immortalized in local horror tales. Parents still tell the stories to disobedient children, threatening to leave them deep in the northern woods at midnight for the ghosts who look like giant centipedes to feed on their fragile bones. 

In actuality this trail is simply overflowing with harmless garden-variety cursed spirits. And if it really used to be a dangerous location back when the older generation was coming there in pursuit of testing one’s courage, a certain country boy’s naive hunger for power stripped the northern forest of its reputation long ago. Suguru hunted down the majority of local spirits to fill his inventory during seventh grade when he found out about the concept of Pinnacle of Cursed Spirit Manipulation: The Spiral. It was rather arrogant of him to assume that he could master it at thirteen years old, but at least he was inspired by such a target for the longest time. 

At fifteen he caught his first special grade cursed spirit there — the demonic bear Onikuma. Soon after, the sorcerers who were sent to his village to exorcise it in the first place found out about Suguru’s existence instead, and he was recruited into Jujutsu Tech. 

Present forest inhabitants succumb in the presence of even the weakest sorcerer. Therefore with Satoru for a hiking companion Suguru had nothing to worry about. 

They reached the foot of the mountain on his parents’ bicycles and left the vehicles next to a pair of arched pines that signify the beginning of the trail. 

“Now that we’re about to commence our journey,” Suguru bends his index finger inwards. “Switch it off”

“Switch off what,” Satoru bats his eyelashes, feigning incredulity.  

“You know what I’m talking about,” Suguru challenges him. “You need to feel it” 

“Is this sentimental crap necessary?”

“Absolutely. Switch it off”

When he feels that Satoru dispersed his technique, Suguru takes his hand. He bends his arm at the elbow, lifting their intertwined palms. “Not gonna ask if this is necessary?”

Satoru looks away, blushing. “No”

Suguru gives him a smug half-smile and leads the way.

*** 

Satoru trips on the slope. Once, twice. Oversees a root sticking from the ground. Lands face first into cobwebs. 

“The spider must be so sad. He worked hard to weave it, you know,” Suguru supports his weight. 

“I hate it!” Satoru exclaims, hanging from Suguru’s hand. “Why does it have to be this hard! And I have pine needles in my shoes. Ugh!” 

He sits Satoru down on a boulder on the side of the trail and crouches in front of his feet. 

“I wanted to see you like that,” he says while untying the blue sneakers Satoru borrowed from him. 

“What?” Offended, Satoru frowns at him from above. 

“Struggling from time to time feels good, right? It’s like concentrating on your own breathing. You begin to appreciate that your legs still know how to walk and your skin knows how to cool itself,” he taps the sole of each shoe to let the dirt and needles fall out, while Satoru keeps his feet above the ground. 

“When I began feeling bad I blamed myself for struggling with ordinary things. Funny that, I could do complicated stuff like missions, but had a hard time getting up in the morning or showering regularly. I still don’t understand why. Maybe because your surroundings are quick to convince you that work is important but no one ever praises you for eating or waking up on time. Not that they should, really. You should do it instead, for your own sake”

He lets Satoru put the shoes back on. 

Suguru gives him an apologetic smile. “So this hike was actually for me, ha-ha! It’s me who wanted to feel these senses arise. I acted a little selfishly, sorry” 

He ties the shoes and stands up, patting Satoru’s knee. “You’re good to go” 

“Wait.” He pulls at his sleeve. 

“You hear it too?” Suguru examines the terrain ahead. 

Satoru stands up and hides behind his back. “But my eyes don’t see anything special” 

“Shush.” Suguru doesn’t move a limb. “It’s not a cursed spirit” 

A red fox jumps out of the bushes a few meters away from them. It stops to study the intruders of its native woodlands. 

Satoru winds his arms around his shoulders and watches the animal from the side of Suguru’s head. “Is it gonna bite us? Should I scare it off?” 

“Chill out, sadist,” Suguru whispers. “She is just as scared as you are”

The fox runs away graciously, disappearing behind the trunk of an old oak. 

“She mocked me in front of my date.” Satoru whines, hiding his face against the back of Suguru’s head. He almost lets go of the other’s shoulders, but freezes midway. “Date,” he repeats the last word from his phrase somberly, clinging to Suguru with renewed force. “I should have taken you on dates” 

Fuck off. Suguru has to take a deep breath to stay calm. “Let’s go,” Suguru orders, but Satoru keeps him on the spot. 

“Suguru, what were you thinking when Toji told you that I was dead?” 

Suguru appreciates the opportunity to face away from Satoru while answering a question he can’t afford to lie about. “I wanted nothing but to murder him. But he knocked me out. And when I woke up… For a moment I wished he ended my life. When I stumbled upon his cursed spirit, the hope that you are alive against all odds kept me moving” 

Satoru’s breath hitches. “And when you saw me again…” 

Suguru speaks carefully, weighing every word. “When I saw your lifeless eyes… I was upset that the clocks didn’t stop. I knew that we were doomed to live with this pain forever. You wanted to kill every person in the room and I only wanted us to die.” Suguru hangs his head, eyes shut, “And fate granted me a half of my desperate wish. Because soon after you died again. Without me” 

Through the fabric of his pullover he feels Satoru’s hands tremble where they touch him. “What do you mean?” 

“You died again. Since that day you began transforming into someone who was everything but my friend Satoru. It broke my heart”

At the last sentence Satoru’s whole body tenses against him. Suguru doesn’t even hear him breathing. 

“It wasn’t your fault, but I still blamed you. I felt betrayed. You know, our friends always told me that you do it for sport, that sorcery is the only thing you live for. I was foaming at the mouth every time people talked about you like that. But this year you’ve almost made me agree with them. I even found myself thinking that I was a friend for hire to you — that you only let me in at the time because we were equal in strength; and now that you surpassed me, our relationship didn’t mean anything to you. I tried to stay strong, to win back the place under the sun. But I was only getting worse, and you were straying further away. It was driving me crazy — you were going somewhere I cannot follow you with iron-hard resolve, without even sparing a glance or a few niceties” 

Suguru turns around to hold Satoru without his backpack dividing them. He closes his arms around Satoru’s waist, connects his fingers in a knot at his back, props his chin on top of his shoulder, gazing at the distance they’ve already crossed. “If one day you decide to go there again, to chase that clarity you talked about, just… at least say goodbye. Say goodbye and tell me that this is what you really want” 

Satoru grazes the loose hair at Suguru’s nape, urging Suguru to face him. He kisses his cheek — a lengthy press of tense lips. 

“I think I’d rather remain confused,” he whispers. 

‘How much time do I have until getting off the beaten track wears you out?’ Suguru wants to argue, but he holds his tongue and begins to pull away, mumbling “Let’s go”

“One more minute,” Satoru holds tight onto Suguru’s shoulders. 

“Are you tired of walking?” he rubs circles on the small of Satoru’s back. 

“Not at all,” Satoru shakes his head anxiously, his bangs sending goosebumps over the skin on the back of Suguru’s neck. 

Eventually Satoru releases him. When Suguru walks a few steps ahead, the silence behind makes him turn back. 

Satoru is standing on the same spot. He meets Suguru’s eyes. “Please hold my hand”

“Sure,” he comes back and takes Satoru with him this time. 

*** 

He leads them uphill through the last turns and twists of the trail. “Look, there’s light at the end of the tunnel!” Suguru exclaims cheerfully, pointing at the patch of peaceful blue sky shining in the heart of the highest spot of land, framed by tree branches. Satoru looks at him instead. 

At the top of the hill Suguru has the whole countryside in the palm of his hand. The place where he became who he is and will always be. The gaps between the rice ponds where he used to walk in the evening when he was feeling sad. He liked to watch the setting sun reflect on the water, gradually disappearing to leave behind a sky in lazurite shade. At times he saw the bald one-eyed cursed spirits desperately crawl to the surface from the backwaters, digging their claws into the damp soil, screeching, “Grandson… do you look after my fields…”

He recognizes his school, too — the only school in the village. He used to have quite a few friends, and many teachers were sad when he announced his transfer to Tokyo, but he doesn’t keep in touch with anyone. His old friends write him emails but he rarely replies. 

Satoru looks at the sky instead of the valley below. Like he’s about to fly away, which he could do easily. 

Suguru steals Satoru’s glasses from his face. 

“Hey!” 

“I brought something,” He puts his backpack on the ground and takes a small digital camera out of its front pocket. “Give me your best smile, Satoru” 

When Satoru faces the lens, Suguru only captures a forlorn expression. He tears his eyes from the device. “What’s the matter?”

Satoru kicks the gravel, gazing at his feet. “I don’t want to be in a picture without you” 

Suguru shakes his head and hands him the camera. They pace to find the best angle of the scenery with mountains, woodlands and the expanse of cloudless sky behind their backs. Satoru winds one arm around Suguru’s shoulder, extending the other to set the biggest possible distance. 

Suguru has never been photogenic. He supposes he is fairly attractive, but he never ends up looking good in pictures. Smiling in front of a camera is much more difficult than putting on a fake polite smile around people. Perhaps he feels some sort of responsibility to the memories the photographs were created to preserve. You need to be genuine in the face of your past.

Yet he wants to have a genuine smile in this picture. So in the faintest moment before the camera clicks, he looks at Satoru’s face. 

***

They played catch-up, running down the hill. On the way a few small curses grimaced at them from behind the pines. 

Some stray hazel leaves settled on the seats of their bicycles while they were away. 

They rode along the rice fields and across the railway that stretches toward the neighboring villages, ending in a small town at the edge of the prefecture. 

Suguru pauses at the crossroad next to the two-story wooden house serving as a post office, straightening his legs for balance. 

“I need to visit someone. Do you mind going home on your own?” 

Satoru grins. “No problem! It’s about time your mom gets back from her night shift. I want to hang out with her” 

“You two are attached at the hip. Freaks me out” 

Satoru sticks his tongue out. “You’re just jealous that I’m the new favorite,” he scoffs before riding away.

Suguru remains in place, balancing on his legs. Once Satoru’s silhouette disappears behind the post office building, Suguru takes out the camera and opens the gallery. 

For minutes he repeatedly pushes two nearby buttons with arrows drawn on them to display and compare the very first pair of pictures they have taken. The one with Satoru alone surrounded by the mountains and the one with them both. 

He admires the first one. It resembles a decorative photograph with a model, like those you see on perfume commercials. The melancholic shot with a handsome young man, his plain gray t-shirt fluttering in the wind, the light hair locks obscuring his proportional face — high brows, thin and long straight nose, the faintest cupid’s bow, narrow mouth, small flat chin. 

However, in perfume commercials models tend to look to their right or left, or anywhere but the camera, while Satoru’s eyes challenge the lens with the intensity of emotion imprinted on them. 

Satoru’s raw expression in the first picture makes Suguru gasp. He looks lonely and scared, or scared of the loneliness itself. Even without the gloss of Limitless in his blue irises Satoru looks detached. Yet for the first time Suguru senses that Satoru in the picture does not rejoice being untouchable. On the contrary — the distance between him and the camera, or, the person behind the lens, suffocates Satoru. 

In the following shot Satoru is ecstatic, smiling wide, every inch of his face emanating joy. His cheek is pressed against Suguru’s temple, eyelashes tickling Suguru’s skin. 

The change of attitude between the two pictures is astounding. Suguru cannot help marvelling how his sole presence flips the narrative upside down. 

He didn’t tell the whole truth to Satoru. He never does. The truth is — he is terrified with the possibility that Satoru will choose sorcery over him. Anticipatory grief eats him alive. Suguru almost lost his mind when Satoru did it for the first time. He wishes that Satoru’s destined path and their bond could coexist, but has no clue how. At times he catches himself hating Satoru’s abundant gifts with his whole heart. They threaten to erase the person he loves most. And if they ever do, everyone will praise this psychic death like those cultists cheered at the sight of Riko Amanai’s corpse. 

These two pictures give Suguru hope that there is something in him that makes Satoru stay. The tiny screen displays the first picture one more time and Suguru touches it with the tips of his fingers. “It’s scary, you know? It’s so scary — feeling like I will never smile again if one day you leave me,” he mumbles under his breath.

He blindly hides the camera in the pocket of his backpack, puts his feet on the pedals and goes south, toward the street he needs. 

***

It’s in the dojo where Suguru discovered that other sorcerers exist. His coach Inoue-sensei is one. 

He helped him come up with the strategy where Suguru acts like a shikigami user until the enemy gets close and he is able to baffle them with more than decent close combat skill. 

What’s more, Inoue-sensei helped Suguru discover his technique. He figured out how to ‘catch the monsters’ by himself when he was six years old and thought that was it — he can eat curses.

Then one day he came early to the dojo and saw a cursed spirit crawling and screeching in the empty room. He absorbed the curse behind sensei’s back. 

Suddenly the man said “Thank you, buddy”. Turns out, he was aware all along and waited for Suguru to cave. Kind of rude, he thought afterwards. 

But then Inoue-sensei stopped in his tracks, saying, “Wait a minute. How did you do this?” and Suguru said that he squeezed the monster into a ball and ate it. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes — a contractor’s son born with Cursed Spirit Manipulation. 

He locked the doors and when his other students were knocking, they pretended no one was there. He talked about sorcery and taught Suguru to summon curses until dark. They began to train every so often until Suguru was scouted into Jujutsu Tech. 

Suguru used to despise the idea of Inoue-sensei seeing him in the pathetic condition in which he arrived homeward. Yet after a week spent with his family — including Satoru, of course — he looks much better. Besides, he has a favor to ask for from his coach. 

He distracts Inoue-san in the beginning of the training session.

The schoolboys just came there after classes and the teacher conducts a warm-up. He stands imperiously despite his short and skinny stature, radiating a trustful and grounding presence. 

Faint peppercorns of dust shine in the soft light coming from the yellow stained glass under the ceiling. The dark wooden walls are decorated with framed certificates from regional competitions. The tatami flooring is damaged in places — apparently someone fell harshly during a sparring match or the students dueled with wooden swords for fun. 

Suguru is surprised that the boys are wearing casual sportswear. Back in the day Inoue had them wearing light traditional attire all the time. They kept the white robes in the locker room. Inoue never allowed them to bring the clothing outside, else it would get stained. 

Upon hearing foreign steps, Inoue turns away from the students. 

“My golden child! Long time no see, Geto,” the man raises his arms. 

“Hi, sensei. It’s been a while, indeed.” They exchange a firm handshake. 

“I heard the rumors. Hard to hide anything in a place with population of one hundred” 

“Then I’ll cut to the chase. The Hasaba sisters are sorcerers. I wanted to bring them to Tokyo, but… well“ 

“But the school is as shallow as usual, I assume. My man Masamichi was always way too submissive in front of these ancient mugs behind the facades” 

“Correct. So, in case they stay here, I wanted to ask —“

“Save your breath.” Inoue’s whistle spreads around the hall. “Boys! Gather up here”

Children and teenages from age five to fifteen crowd around Suguru and Inoue. “Two lovely girls named Hasaba Mimiko and Hasaba Nanako will be going to school with you. From that moment on they become the subjects of your protection. You need to keep an eye on them at school and walk them home until you pass the message that whoever harms Mimiko and Nanako will have to deal with us” 

“Can I beat those who try to hurt them?” 

“Yes, you can, Samejima”

“Cool!” the boy about the same age as Mimiko and Nanako exclaims. 

“Befriend them and prove that they can trust you. That you will defend them anytime” Inoue pronounces loudly and distinctively, using respectful dialect like he always did when he wanted to convey something important to his pupils. Having finished, he claps a few times, signaling the boys to continue training. 

Suguru stands there dumbfounded. He wanted to ask for Inoue’s personal protection. Yet now the whole dojo is involved, none of the children aware of why the girls were in a vulnerable position in the first place.

Tugging at his sleeve, sensei leads Suguru to the storage room with a tiny cloth covered table and a hot drink section on top of the drawer. He pours two cups with steaming black coffee from the filter.

Inoue blows the steam away from his national judo championship promotional cup. “Oh, but you owe me one for the twins,” he grins mischievously, the tips of his gray mustache reaching the dimples on his cheeks, “Come here tomorrow and spar with my boys to show what competence looks like. I’m positive that you’ve learned a thing or two in Tokyo,” Inoue winks, “Sharing is caring” 

“Sure thing,” he nods, taking the first sip of his coffee. 

Recently Suguru has picked up quite a few debts he is excited to pay back. 

Pleased, Inoue stands up to retrieve a straw basket from the top of a shelf.

“You still grow persimmons!” Suguru smiles. 

“Of course. Have a few”

Suguru carefully examines the fruit and picks up the biggest one in the basket. The taste is almost always bland, but he likes the sensation of biting into a big soft persimmon. He tastes its orange flesh, and the juice drips on his collar. 

“That’s why I don’t let the kids wear white robes anymore, ha-ha!” 

“You’re embarrassing me!” Suguru grumbles, trying to wipe off the juice, but his fingers are covered in the sticky orange liquid too. 

“Don’t think about it. Enjoy yourself,” Inoue moves a small ceramic plate to Suguru’s side of the table. He is looking at Suguru with narrow shining eyes surrounded by thick wrinkled lids, curling a finger around his mustache. “So, tell me how you’ve been, son” 

Suguru swipes his tongue over his lips and puts the rest of the fruit on the plate. “I was… I’m okay” 

“There it goes,” Inoue sighs audibly. “You know why I trust you to spar with the boys? Because you always felt responsible for those who are weaker than you. But you know what is peculiar about this view when it comes to you? You feel responsible for everyone. You don’t want to hurt your sparring partner, you don’t want to share problems with your parents because they are busy anyway, you don’t want to disappoint me. Do you think everyone but you is weak then?” 

“I… No, wait,” Suguru hesitates.  

“Nuh-huh, hear me out. How pathetic do you think I am, if you assume that I would crumble if I listened to a teenager complain? You should cut that out, kid. Not all people can handle their shit, but you simply should avoid those who can’t. And invite those of your kind” 

Suguru swallows, his eyes sting from impending tears. He watches the persimmon juice leak into the depths of the plate. 

“I didn’t feel very well this year, Inoue-sensei,” he forces the phrase out. “It’s like… everything got so confusing. I spoke to one of the special grade sorcerers while I was, like, seriously wrestling with the angels. She told me to make up my mind — if I hate those who I’m supposed to protect or not” 

“And what was your decision?” 

“My friends stopped me before I killed a bunch of people. I still resent non-sorcerers for creating curses just to become their victims afterwards…” 

To Suguru’s surprise, his coach isn’t flabbergasted with the mention of a crime. “And the fact that they are not even aware of it doesn’t stop you?” Inoue asks calmly. 

“It only makes it worse. They don’t appreciate the help nor they honor the sacrifices.” He closes his palm into a fist under the table. 

Inoue hums thoughtfully. “Was there someone you cherished among the sacrifices?” 

Visions of blood and death keep revolving in Suguru’s head as if his own mind turned into a gallery of vicious photographs. “Yeah. Plenty of them. But it doesn’t end with missions. Mimiko and Nanako were tortured.” He sees Shoko smoking her worries away, Satoru training with reckless abandon, Nanami dreaming of the day he leaves for good. “Friends survive, but then fall apart slowly. What am I supposed to think of it? No matter how hard I try to find reasoning, to recognize the value of ordinary people or the lack of it, I end up lost or desperate. And I… I hate being lost” 

“It’s good to make up your mind, but only when you really need to. It’s not your burden to carry — deciding a human being’s inherent value. Leave it to the heavens above.” Inoue sighs. His gaze focuses on the window, but his mind seems to be far away, in his own memories for a few moments. “Besides, even heavens are impartial, I suppose. You can only decide who is valuable to you personally. It can’t be everyone at once” 

Suguru jumps up from his seat and slaps his palms on the table. The coffee floats in waves and ripples inside the cups and the plate trembles at the impact. “But wouldn’t I contradict myself in picking favorites?” 

Inoue arches a brow, stoically looking up at him from across the table. “Didn’t you pick them already?” He reaches to move the ceramic plate away from where it landed at the edge of the table. “It’s just a coincidence that they’re all sorcerers.” 

Suguru gets back on his chair. “Wait… you’re right.” 

Tugging on the handle of the basket, Inoue raises it from the floor and places it in the center of the table once again. Suguru shakes his head, ready to refuse another treat. The man bends the basket in his direction, showing him the contents. “Why did you choose that persimmon?” 

Tilting his head, Suguru lowers his eyes onto the fruit. Two brown seeds buried inside the flesh are gleaming under the yellow lamp. “It’s big. I liked it most” 

Inoue lets go of the basket and picks one for himself this time. He raises his hand to examine the persimmon, turning it from side to side. “Should you throw away the rest just because you didn’t like ‘em that much? I liked this one more” 

He huffs a laugh, humiliated with the primitive ways of mentorship. “No, it would be a waste of good fruit” 

Inoue smiles lopsidedly. “Look out for love.” He takes a bite. Just like Satoru, he has a vulgar habit to speak with his mouth full. “Other final decisions can wait. Love comes first” 

He notices how profusely Suguru is blushing and laughs. “Yes, boy, I’m sure you already have a girlfriend, but I’m not just talking about romantic love. You need to stick to people and things that you love with your whole heart. Take what you need, and leave the rest be.” He spits the seeds onto the table. “Someone else will take care of it” 

*** 

Suguru bathed the girls this evening to let his mother rest after a long shift at the hospital. He helps her out a lot, but tries to let girls get attached to him and his parents equally, just in case he has to leave them for a long time. He’s glad the children saw a number of saviors fighting on their side, including Suguru’s family and friends. During his own early years he persistently shied away from his next of kin, alienated by their differences, but he has no doubts that his mother and father are good at parenting. If anything, they were too good for someone as reserved and ungrateful as him. 

Afterwards they headed to the guest bedroom that became Nanako and Mimiko’s and he read them a couple of fairytales from his old children's book. 

“Goodnight, Geto-sama! Sleep well,” they say in unison as he adjusts the covers. 

Suguru lingers in front of the bed. “Girls, how about you call me some other way? Geto-sama sounds a bit too… Cold” 

It sounds like Suguru is some kind of master and deity. The magnanimous title burns his senses after Inoue-sensei humbled him this afternoon.

Following that conversation, Suguru came home feeling completely imbalanced and destroyed. Did he really think that he was better than everyone else and therefore was supposed to handle everything by himself? At least he used to be confident that non-sorcerers and — frankly — the majority of people are weaker than him. After a week he has spent at home… He feels like dirt under certain ordinary people’s shoes, but not in a hurtful way. 

His parents are non-sorcerers, but they are anything but weak. They accepted the truth about his and Satoru’s occupation with grace. Offered affection to Satoru, invited the twins in the family without a second thought. Inoue-sensei is a sorcerer, but he retired twenty years ago and revels in quiet life, coaching the boys in martial arts, providing them guidance. He talked to Suguru not as a fellow sorcerer, but as a person who possesses wisdom, perspective… and determination to make Suguru’s life easier. The boys from his dojo agreed to protect the twins just because they trust their teacher’s judgment and understand that they can use their strength to make two peers feel secure at school. Not because they consider Nanako and Mimiko weak, but because it comes as second nature to protect someone important. Again, not necessarily weak or in need, but important. 

So that is why Suguru resolved to hatred. If you try too hard to serve those you do not cherish, you end up despising them for the lack of gratitude. But why should they be grateful for the help they didn’t ask for from a stranger to whom they do not relate? Help only feels valuable for both parties when love is there. Suguru enjoys taking care of Satoru and the twins because he loves them. Suguru used to help Nanami and Haibara train because he is fond of his juniors. Suguru and Shoko help each other with English homework because they are good friends who both struggle with the subject. 

At the same time, there were those who abused Nanako and Mimiko. In the village where his parents and his coach live peaceful and rewarding lives. If he killed everyone in the village to punish the perpetrators and accomplices, he would also kill the generous people who met him with open arms on the cusp of the worst period in his entire life. If he thought it was justice, he must have been out of his mind. 

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head full of fresh memories. That fucking basket of persimmons. Suguru cannot believe it took so long for him to understand. 

“It’s, um… dad then?” Nanako offers. 

It takes a few moments for Suguru to comprehend the meaning behind her words. He feels like crying again. He did cry a bit on the way home, behind everyone’s eyes. “Dad it is. Do you like living with my family?” 

“It’s our family,” Mimiko corrects him and yawns, lifting her side of the duvet up to the chin. 

“I see.” he kisses their foreheads goodnight. 

Chapter Text

When Sachiko brought home a cardboard box full of clothes that used to belong to her colleague’s grown up daughter, Nanako and Mimiko almost jumped inside it, eager to try the clothes on and demonstrate the outfits they compiled. Satoru and Sachiko took their seats in the kitchen, raising soda cans, cheering every time one of the girls would walk out of the corridor in a new costume.

Sachiko was worried that they would fight over the items, but they instinctively exhibited completely different tastes. Mimiko enjoys the blues and purples, smart plaid skirts and dress shirts, while Nanako snatches every bright piece of fabric decorated with rhinestones.

After the runway the girls hurried to play outdoors, promising not to stain their new clothes. Satoru followed them when he heard strange sounds coming from above the ceiling. 

When he steps onto the back yard to search for the source of the sound, he sees Suguru and Tatsuki on top of the roof.

“What are you guys doing?” he calls out, interrupting a conversation about the sparring practice Suguru gave to the boys from his old dojo. 

Suguru wipes sweat from his forehead with his left elbow. Satoru finds it inexplicably attractive: the way he holds a hammer in his other hand, the dark stain along the collar of his grey tank top, a tuft of black armpit hair gleaming in the sun as he raises his toned arm. 

Suguru’s voice banishes his state of greedy admiration. “Repairing the roof after Satoru the air magician introduced me to his power.” He is lying — Satoru knows he didn’t break anything. Precision is what his eyes are made for. 

“Suguru, please check the vent for broken seams,” Tatsuki guides him. “I’ve been putting it off for ages but tonight’s weather forecast promised a heavy rain,” he explains to Satoru. “Come up here! We can trust you with the hammer as you’ve got that invisible shield of yours” 

“I, ah.” Satoru scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to do these things. May I just hang out with you?” 

“Of course! And bring this screwdriver, please. It’s next to the ladder” 

Satoru complies. Landing on the rooftop, he bumps into Suguru’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you could fix roofs!” 

Blushing, Suguru wordlessly seizes the screwdriver from his hand. 

“I taught Suguru all kinds of things. Carpenting, plumbing, repairing appliances, gardening,” Tatsuki lists the skills with pride. 

“Gojo! You jumped on the roof again!“ Nanako screams from the ground. 

“You want to show grandpa how to fly too? Dad didn’t like it!” Mimiko follows. 

Suguru is gleaming with joy. “They are calling me dad,” he mutters under his breath, taking a screw he used to hold between his lips and planting it on the spot he wants to fasten. 

“I’m just helping grandpa fix the roof!” Satoru argues.

“No he’s not!” Suguru interrupts him after driving the screw into the roofing. “He is slacking off as usual” 

The girls approve Satoru’s answer anyway and go back to playing with stuffed toys Sachiko’s friend has given away along with the clothes. Is protectiveness contagious? If Satoru didn’t know the details he would assume that Mimiko and Nanako were Getos by blood. 

Tatsuki could have left Suguru to repair the roof since he has the skill, but he obviously enjoys doing the same things he does at his job in construction. Satoru finds himself relating to it.

“Geto-san. Do you like your job?” He can’t help asking. 

Tatsuki grins, exposing a golden incisor. The rest of his teeth look rather unhealthy because of excessive smoking, but his smile is genuine and inviting. “Of course I do. I liked all my jobs” 

“You had many?”

Suguru whistles, bracing himself for a story he apparently had heard a few dozen times. He crouches close to the roofing and begins pulling out misplaced nails. 

“I was born in Sapporo. Both of my parents were historians, they studied Ainu literature. I liked the subject too so I got a degree in Kyoto, wrote a thesis on the Kofun period clan system. But then I got tired of it — the faculty was always out of finances and expeditions became a rare occasion. So I picked up computer science. It was in high demand at the time and I taught myself the basics rather fast. But the company I was working for went bankrupt. I came here to work in the railway construction. I met Sachiko, fell in love and stayed. Built this house for us” 

Satoru didn’t pass this man for an intellectual at all. “That’s so cool! I’m also from an ancient clan, but, of course, they don’t write about us in history textbooks. Do you know Sugawara-no Michizane?” 

“Obviously. A governor and poet from the Heian era” 

“He is my noble ancestor,” Satoru confirms proudly. He doesn’t know how a vengeful spirit could produce descendants, but he never bothered to do some reading. 

“That’s incredible. Can you tell me about any other connections between magic and historical figures? I promise, I will keep it secret in front of my fellow historians” 

He frowns, lost. “I don’t really know anything else” 

“Dad, remember when you told me about the Mononobe clan ancestry?” Suguru distracts from work and looks up at Tatsuki.  

“When I was writing my thesis, I studied the Mononobe clan ancestral myths. Their progenitor, Nigihayahi-no Mikoto was given certain treasures by goddess Amaterasu,” Tatsuki clarifies to Satoru and turns to face his son. “What about him?” 

“One of these treasures was a stone that raises people from the dead. Do you remember the spell they used for the stone to work?” 

Satoru observes their interaction. Nerds. It makes him recall all the times Suguru pestered him about the Okinawa culture during that unfortunate trip to the south. 

“It’s the Jewel of Resuscitation, Suguru. The spell goes ‘One, two, three, four — et cetera — ten, Furube Yurayurato…” 

Satoru barges in, bewildered. “Wait! So these treasures are like the Ten Shadows technique of our rival clan. Furube Yurayura is a real spell. It is used to manifest this, um, monster with eight—“

“Eight Hands Long Sword,” Tatsuki finishes for him. 

“Right! How did you know?” Satoru exclaims. Tatsuki looks content like adults do when they have just found a correct topic for bonding with teenagers. Most likely, Tatsuki couldn’t fathom ancient spells to be one. 

“The sword is one of the Ten Treasures too, Satoru” 

Ten Shadows… Toji told Satoru about his son. 

“Why did you choose the magical education? We didn’t ask Suguru at the time because we were too happy that our son got a full ride at some boarding school in Tokyo. Poor people's mindset, ha-ha!” 

“I didn’t choose it.” Satoru shrugs. “I was chosen to do that” 

Tatsuki’s lighthearted smile vanishes. “What do you mean? Someone forced you?” 

“Dad, shut up,” Suguru interjects with an unmistakable warning in his tone, but Tatsuki ignores him. 

“No. I was born this way. I was born with superpowers in one of the three greatest clans” 

Tatsuki arches a brow. “So your family forced you,” he deduces. 

Suguru sighs and continues working on the nails.

“But I said—“ 

“You’re saying your family decided what you would become once you were born, am I right? If I was you at this age, I would hate the idea that the old folks have chosen an occupation for me. Even my parents didn’t force me to be a historian, I was interested in the field”

History is nothing compared to my game, Satoru itches to say, but even he senses that it is a heartless thing to tell about someone’s profession. “I am interested too. Sorcery is rewarding.” Satoru instinctively switches to a respectful dialect that Suguru’s parents haven’t yet heard him use. Suguru immediately picks up the change, glancing sideways at him. In the back of Satoru’s mind, the Six Eyes register Suguru’s cursed energy threatening to implode.

“Was the incident with Nanako and Mimiko a sideshow then?” Tatsuki asks dubiously. “To my mind it was not an easy task for a teenager to solve”

“I’ve seen worse,” he murmurs. 

“Come again” 

“Sorry!” he speaks up. “I didn’t mean that there’s something rewarding about people getting in trouble. The magic is, because I can use it creatively, stay safe and even help people along the way” 

“Well, if it is safe, then good for you two” 

“It is not safe for me. But it’s fine, I’m aware of it.” Suguru comments at last. 

Tatsuki carries on with the topic. “What would happen if you didn’t want to do it? If you decided to do your own thing?” 

Satoru feels an unreasonable urge to defend himself. “Nothing. I’d never do that anyway,” he deflates. 

“He would be branded an evil magician and the council would sentence him for execution as a preventive measure. It is illegal to use magic once you retire and they know Satoru would never quit for good. They’d rather get him out of the way,” Suguru pronounces through gritted teeth. He pulls out a frosty nail with such a crushing force that the roof seems to billow in resonance. “The execution would be suspended. They simply can’t deliver because Satoru is too strong.” Suguru wipes the sweat that trails from his forehead and rubs his eyes, sighing. “He would have to be on the run for the rest of his life” 

Satoru throws him a murderous glare. “Don’t look at me like that.” Suguru glares back. “You know it’s true. Why do you think Tsukumo Yuki travels abroad all the time?” 

He drops the nail drawer and a handful of screws he used to hold in his palm. The screws roll down the roofing. “I need a break.” He carefully steps away, reaching for the the ladder. 

“What’s gotten into him?” Tatsuki scratches his sweaty scalp. 

Satoru watches Suguru crouch in front of the girls, curious about the rules of their outdoor game. His cursed energy settles down once Nanako invites him to play together. 

Satoru sits down on the edge of the rooftop, legs overboard. Below him, Mimiko passes Suguru a blue stuffed frog and he takes it gently, shaking it from side to side and pretending to speak on behalf of the toy. Watching Suguru enjoying himself comforts Satoru. “He is just protective of me, don’t worry.” 

Following his son’s words, Tatsuki looks at Satoru with the deepest pity he has ever seen directed at himself. He only saw the same kind on… Suguru’s face during the first year when he told him the same thing — explained his background.  

“I’m sorry, son. For nagging you, too. I’m sure you are a great magician,” Tatsuki hangs his head apologetically. 

Satoru almost falls from the roof. Above all things said and questions asked, this irreversibly catches Satoru off guard. No one has ever been sorry for Satoru from the Gojo clan. He had only heard countless accolades. People wouldn’t call a random the honored one. Would they?

Satoru feels like one of the nails Suguru was replacing for the loss of relevance. He recalls feeling this disoriented before, but only once in a lifetime — when he was about to be murdered; when he struggled to locate Toji’s position and found him behind his back, raising a spear to finish him off. 

He heaves a sigh, shaking his legs in the air. “So my life could be different” 

“Yes, Satoru-kun. It’s not your fault, though.” Tatsuki rummages in the pocket of his jumpsuit to fish out his half-empty pack of cigarettes. “You learned to survive in this environment. Grown into such a good young man” 

Tatsuki offers a cigarette to Satoru. 

Survival. Defeating the sorcerer killer wasn’t a triumph. The sky didn’t reveal Satoru anything. He didn’t spill the last of his ignorance together with the insane amount of blood which loss provoked his Reverse Cursed Technique. Focusing on converting negative energy when Toji pierced his throat wasn’t an exercise, or a prelude to enlightenment. It was a struggle for survival, primal and urgent. 

He refuses the cigarette with a faint shake of his head and slowly descends right onto the dark grass in the shadow of the house. 

He didn’t learn fuck all ever since resuscitated to kill his last assassin. 

He didn’t learn a thing. 

***

“Telepathy won’t drive the rain away, Suguru” 

Satoru’s voice coming from the dimly lit room makes him flinch, distracting Suguru from staring in the half-open window in his bedroom. “Come again” 

“You’ve been glued to the window for half an hour, it freaks me out.” Satoru stretches, lying on his futon next to Suguru’s bed. He doesn’t want to fall asleep first. He was waiting patiently for Suguru to leave the windowsill, entertaining himself with mobile games. 

Suguru focuses on the obscured view outside, leaning his forehead against the glass. “No, it’s okay. It’s just so nice to listen to the sound of the rain” 

“Why do you like it?” 

Suguru’s face falls. Satoru is scared that he hit some nerve unintentionally. He puts the phone away and sits up. “Tell me” 

“I uh…” he opens his mouth, but no words come out. Satoru comes to the windowsill and gently pets Suguru’s hair to ease the obvious anxiety. He hides his face against Satoru’s chest. “For the past year I used to have these hallucinations all the time. When it rained or, like, when I went to the shower, instead of the sound of water I was hearing the hand claps of people cheering for Riko-chan’s death. It used to invade my head all the time — this sound”

Satoru gasps. “For the whole year?” 

“Rainy season was hell. I was losing it” 

“Oh, Suguru” 

“I got scared when dad said that the rain was due. But when it finally began raining, I realized that the hallucinations never came,” the edges of his mouth raise in a soft smile, “I’m only hearing the rain. I love this sound” 

Satoru kneels beneath the windowsill, grabbing his hand. “I will never leave you to deal with bad things alone again. I promise”

He blinks in surprise. “I told you. It wasn’t your fault” 

“It doesn’t matter. You will never be alone. I promise to protect you and keep you safe no matter what” 

Suguru studies his face silently, making Satoru feel like he doesn’t believe the words. 

“Can I pay back my debt now?” Suguru says at last, letting go of his hand. 

Satoru frowns. “What debt?” 

He jumps off the windowsill and helps Satoru stand up. He reaches to trace his cheek, gliding his thumb over Satoru’s lower lip. “This” 

Satoru leans into his palm, closing his eyes. “Please,” he whispers faintly, taking off his glasses in a swift motion and dropping them on the floor carelessly. 

Suguru leads him by the hand to sit them down on the edge of his bed. Facing each other, Suguru’s hand on his knee, they slowly shift closer. Satoru doesn’t know where to put his hands. He forgets about it in the instant Suguru presses his lips on his in a chaste kiss. He pulls away just as fast, but Satoru puts both hands on Suguru’s chest. “More”

“Please relax your lips.” Suguru puts his thumb on the corner of his lip and stretches the skin, guiding Satoru to slightly open his mouth. He puts his palm against the side of Satoru’s neck and connects their lips again. He dips his tongue into Satoru’s mouth. He does his best to mimic Suguru’s movements, meeting him halfway. 

In a few moments they have to catch their breath. Opening his eyes, Satoru sees Suguru’s soft and content expression. He feels giddy. 

“So this is what kissing feels like” 

Suguru grins, proud of himself, until his mind registers the words. 

“Wait, what!” Suguru covers his own face with both palms. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Your first kiss was the worst” 

Satoru tears his palms away and shakes his head frantically. “I’m glad it was you. I never liked anyone but you” 

“Such a romantic — he only wants to touch those he likes” 

“Isn’t that how it works?”

He kisses him again instead of answering. Satoru gains confidence touch by touch. When Satoru gives him a bold open-mouthed kiss — capturing Suguru’s lips as if biting into an apple — he hears a gasp. Satoru opens his eyes for a moment to witness how Suguru really enjoys kissing him despite his inexperience, but his senses pick up the presence of another person behind the wall instead. Soon Suguru, too, hears the steps in the corridor. As Satoru watches the door, waiting for Nanako to pass by or enter the room, Suguru plants faint pecks all around his face. He only pulls away with a soft smile when the child knocks at the door. 

“Hi, princess. Something’s the matter?” he asks, keeping his hand on Satoru’s knee. 

“We can’t close the window,” Nanako admits sheepishly. “I didn’t want to wake up grandma” 

“Why did you open it?” Suguru asks curiously, keeping his tone light. 

Nanako smiles mischievously, looking to the side. “Wanted to touch the rain” 

“Alright, let’s go.” He taps Satoru’s knee one more time and rushes to the door. He picks Nanako up. They are chatting in whispers upon leaving. “Do you like my new pajamas?” 

“They are gorgeous,” Suguru whispers praises before they walk further into the depth on the first floor. “Was the rainwater warm?” 

Satoru kicks back on the mattress. Desire gathers into a knot in his stomach, warms his every limb. He is drunk from Suguru’s presence, his beauty, the tenderness of his touch.

He waited ages for this to happen. He raises his arm, squeezing his fingers in the air. Now this wish is in the palm of his hand. 

Suguru comes back in and closes the door, smiling apologetically. “Do you want to continue?” 

He nods enthusiastically. Suguru locks the door then. Twists the door handle for good measure, double-checking the lock. Satoru’s back remains on the bed, and Suguru lies down on his side next to him. 

Legs entangled, hands clutching each other’s shoulders, they kiss languidly, exploring the kind of affection Satoru craved ever since he confessed in the darkness of that aquarium, but didn’t get to learn properly before this solemn and rainy night. Suguru carefully slips a hand under his shirt, pressing his palm over the small of his back. He shivers, feeling possessed by the touch, his body reduced to the very nerves affected by it. 

Satoru breaks the kiss and looks at Suguru through heavy-lidded eyes. “I want you,” he whispers in the miniscule space between their faces and lifts the edges of Suguru’s shirt. Suguru catches his wrists, his eyes suddenly clear and collected. 

“You are so rushing it. You’ve just had your first kiss” 

“Suguru, when do you think we’ll have time for this once we’re back?”

“Still. It should be special. I’m not even your boyfriend” 

One day he will be. Satoru needs to start working on winning him back. It’s getting old. “One night, Suguru,” he pleads. “Or you don’t want to?” 

Indecisive, Suguru bites the inside of his cheek. “Idiot. Of course I want it.” He straightens to raise the white shirt over his head and throws it on the floor. The rain ended while they were kissing and the moonlight flows from the window, illuminating Suguru’s ivory skin. Half-shadows fall on the lean muscles. “Let’s take off your clothes then” 

Satoru remains lying on the bed, guided by Suguru as he pulls up the flannel and undershirt, strips the black pants. He leaves the items on the floor behind his back. Once Satoru is only left in underwear, Suguru puts both hands on his sides, squeezing his waist with cold hands. 

“You are…” he sucks in a breath, gazing at Satoru’s body with hungry eyes. “I don’t have the words.” The long hair tickles Satoru’s chest as Suguru hovers above him, kissing down his neck, tracing his tongue along the collarbone. 

On any other occasion Satoru would spill out a kaleidoscope of flattering words, aiming to spite Suguru, but all he can do now is lie motionless, looking through his eyelashes, observing the movements of the only person that has ever made him feel this vulnerable. “I’m yours, that's what I am,” he pronounces just to see goosebumps run over Suguru’s bare skin. 

Both naked, they sit back up to study each other’s bodies in the moonlight, their bent knees touching. Satoru timidly strokes the skin of Suguru’s shoulders, collar bones, chest and stomach. He wants to extend the moment somehow. “You grew up. Since three years ago” 

“We both look like adults already.” Suguru reaches to kiss him behind his ear. Before pulling away he pauses to study his features. “Your face has changed. And your shoulders are much wider” 

Satoru’s fingertips dance on Suguru’s stomach and he follows their path with his eyes. He doesn’t dare touching lower. 

Suguru covers his palm with his own. “Your hands are shaking like crazy. Is everything alright?” 

“I’m just nervous, okay? And no, I don’t want to stop” 

“You are all-or-nothing, really,” Suguru sighs. “Lay your head on the pillow. I’ll make you feel good” 

Suguru grabs the duvet and covers the lower halves of their bodies. He lies in between Satoru’s legs and continues kissing his chest, moving further down. 

He hooks his fingers under the waistband of Satoru’s underwear. “Okay?” 

Impatient, he nods. 

“But for the love of god, be quiet,” he says as his lips explore Satoru’s flat abdomen. “Lately I dropped quite a few revelations on mom and dad, and the fact that I fancy a guy is definitely scheduled for later” 

“Can you not mention your parents while we’re about to…” he is not sure what Suguru plans to do. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles. 

He hides under the blanket. His fingers dig into Satoru’s hips. Satoru closes his eyes tight and covers them with a palm. He must look ridiculous, but he cannot bear two kinds of sensory saturation at once. 

He feels everything. Suguru’s breath on his pelvis, the temperature of the inside of his mouth, the texture of his tongue, the vibration of his voice as he hums — every attribute of the connection between them overwhelms Satoru’s senses. 

He wishes it could last. 

“I’m — uh,” he moans helplessly. 

He tears his hand from his eyes when Suguru throws the blanket to the side and climbs up and above Satoru’s body again, replacing his mouth with a hand. “Let go, Satoru” he whispers in his ear. “Beautiful, beautiful boy” 

His body shudders and Suguru swallows his final whimper with a long suffocating kiss. 

“Now let me,” Satoru demands as soon as his breathing evens out, nerves still tingling in his toes. 

“No, I’m good”

“It’s not fair” 

“Satoru, you don’t know shit about intimacy. Look,” Suguru points at the stain on his underwear, staring at the ceiling in embarrassment.  

“Oh,” Satoru blinks in disbelief. 

Suguru hastily stands up and reaches for the tissues in the corner of the desk to wipe his hand. He accidentally drops the box on the floor and curses under his breath. When he throws away the used tissue, it lands far outside the trash can.

“Chill out. What’s the rush?” His demeanor humors Satoru.  

“They say people don’t like to be left alone right after. They need cuddles” 

Satoru bursts out laughing from endearment. “It’s the middle of the night, dipshit!” Suguru hisses. 

“Hey, that’s not gentle at all!” 

Suguru takes off his underwear, wipes himself and find a new pair of boxers in the drawer next to the desk. Satoru tries not to stare while he’s changing, and fails. 

Waiting for him to come back, Satoru puts on his own boxers and covers himself with the blanket.

He lifts the edge of it to let Suguru into the warmth. He nudges his face into Suguru’s chest, lying in his arms. “Fuck my life,” Satoru sighs heavily. “You opened the gates of hell. From now on I’ll be popping a boner every time you so much as speak to me. Beautiful boy, really?”  

“You’re so lame,” he chuckles. 

Satoru curiously looks up at him. “Have you done this before?” 

“Had sex?” Satoru nods. “Yes, a few times” 

“Oh,” he pouts. 

“Junior High in the countryside: nothing to do but pick fights, smoke, read Shonen Jump and find ways to lose your virginity,” Suguru smiles fondly and hugs him tight. “I wish you were my first time, too. I thought there was no one special enough to fall in love with in this godforsaken place, so I might as well satisfy my curiosity with anyone. And then suddenly I moved to Tokyo and met you. You are special. To everyone, of course, but to me you’re special in a different way” 

“In what way?” 

“Who knows. It’s hard to explain” 

Satoru draws patterns on Suguru’s skin with his index finger. “I caught this thought when I was explaining cursed techniques to your mom. It’s just a personal theory, but what if it’s not an accident that you were born with Cursed Spirit Manipulation completely out of blue?” 

He feels Suguru hum incredulously. “Why” 

“As you know, when I was born, lots of cursed spirits appeared to balance my power. What if you were born three months later to put this side-effect to use? To wield the cursed spirits my birth produced” 

“So you are saying our techniques are intertwined?”

I’m just trying to stitch you into my miserable narrative… 

“Something like that.” Satoru twists to the side, letting Suguru hold him from behind, their bodies flush against each other. 

Suguru buries his face in the hair of his nape. “Could it be that this summer was so busy because you got stronger?” he mutters apprehensively. 

…But not like this! Fuck! Satoru draws his knees to his chest, curling into himself. 

Suguru shifts even closer, echoing his pose. “I wouldn’t blame you either way. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to befriend someone like you” 

“Like me?”

“Well, someone like god in the world of sorcery”

“Don’t talk about me like that!” he hisses, steeply turning around to face him again. Before Suguru could apologize, he continues somberly. “Would I even be special to anyone if I wasn’t born with all this? Be honest”

They are facing each other, but Suguru hesitates to envelop him in his arms again. “What got you thinking about it” 

That day right after they went hiking, Satoru came home and asked Sachiko to show him Suguru’s old pictures. The photographs flash inside his mind. Suguru on the playground. Suguru hopping on the puddles in rubber boots. Suguru hugging a neighbor’s cat. Again, him with his first medal and a brand new martial art belt. Him at some relative’s wedding in a smart bowtie. 

There was only one picture that struck Satoru as a familiar sight. Suguru at seven years old next to his mother stood in front of a blooming magnolia tree. He was supposed to look into the camera and smile together with Sachiko like he did on every photograph in the album dedicated to his earliest years. Yet his eyes were focused on something beyond the alley, in the bushes. Perhaps he was gazing at a curse. 

Satoru’s old albums had lots of pictures like this. Him standing in a proper position for a fight, focused on something invisible in the middle of the room. Countless shots of his eyes without the supernatural gleam in them. And the things he was most proud of — his technique, one could never capture in a photograph. 

“Just… I’m glad we said ‘fuck it’ and had a vacation. But I never realized that I missed out on so many things. You had a whole life before Tokyo. You chose to be a sorcerer, but you can also fix the roof and stuff. You used to have lots of friends” 

“How did you find out about my old friends?” 

Suguru did have so many friends, a different set of faces for every age as people were moving a lot, heading to the bigger towns and cities. Satoru has finally saw the evidence that he indeed was a leader of his own little gang made of boys from his old dojo. Trying to copy city motorbike gangs from the past, they all looked extravagant. That’s where Suguru got his gauges from, along with a preference for baggy pants and growing his hair long. They had one old and rusty bike for the whole team. Suguru hosted loud birthdays and went camping on weekends with his classmates. The girls in some group pictures looked at him with dreamy eyes. 

“Just assumed,” Satoru lies. “I know I can learn new skills too, but until now I didn’t even bother.

And here’s the kicker: even though your family are not sorcerers, I felt like they understand me better than I do. They even get upset on my account. I’m sorry, but…” he stops himself. 

Suguru squeezes his shoulder in encouragement. “It’s fine. Tell me”

“I’m sorry.” Satoru closes his eyes. “I really used to think that you get me so well because we are both strong sorcerers. Now I found out that you get me because we are good friends. And your family is fond of me for no particular reason” 

“That’s right. They like you. They are happy that we get along”

Satoru purses his lips, squeezing his eyes to hinder an urge to cry. “I hate the idea of coming back to Tokyo. I know Yaga’s missed phone calls are piling up. But back there people tolerate me because they need me or fear me. Only you and your family enjoy my company” 

Suguru finally reaches to hold him again, crossing the strenuous distance between them. As he speaks, his lips swipe over the wrinkles above Satoru’s frown. “It’s hard to step away from something that brings you accolades, pleasure, and pride. But you know, you could be both. The Gojo people need, and simply Satoru who grimaces to make the twins laugh and chases me around the garden. You can have your own version of freedom — choosing which one to summon in different situations” 

Satoru chuckles. “Summon? Like a cursed spirit” 

“Yeah, it got into my brain for a second. I like your theory, after all” Satoru feels Suguru smile as he kisses his forehead. 

“You’re right though. The Gojo one seems like a curse sometimes” 

Suguru shakes his head, adjusting the duvet to cover their shoulders. “I’m not sure about that, but Satoru is surely a blessing” 

***

Furious knocking wakes them up by noon. “Ruru, Satoru, wake up! Why did you close the door?” 

“Fuck,” Suguru mutters, jumping over Satoru to leave the bed. He drags sleepy Satoru onto the futon before opening the door. 

Nanako and Mimiko stand in the doorway too, clutching to Sachiko’s thighs. “Boys, there’s a car at the gates. Some woman in a suit says she came to pick you two up” 

“Fuck!” Suguru exclaims, waking Satoru up for good. 

He rubs sleep from his eyes. “Who said not to curse in front of children?” 

Turns out Sachiko has been keeping the assistant manager waiting for solid fifty minutes, buying them all time to prepare for the departure. 

They came here empty-handed, certain that the mission would end on the same evening. The uniform pants and jackets persevered through multiple washing machine sessions repeated in order to remove the bloodstains, but the dress shirts didn’t last. 

On the third day of their stay Sachiko spent the whole night narrowing down one of her husband’s jeans so that Satoru had something to wear. He is going to keep this pair. 

When they step out of the house, the assistant manager is waiting for them, leaning on the low wooden gate with Suguru’s family name engraved on the side. She straightens to greet them with a defensive stature. 

Satoru faints agreeability. “Oh, you’re right on time. Would be a bummer to drag all this to the train.” He raises a massive basket of vegetables Tatsuki rushed to pick for them in the garden. 

The assistant manager salutes. “Gojo. Yaga-sensei asked me to inform you that you get transferred to Kyoto for the rest of the year” 

“What the hell!” he shouts, collected facade forgotten. 

“What about Mimiko and Nanako?” Suguru asks with a note of hope in his voice. 

“Denied” 

Satoru stomps his foot, crossing his arms. “Then we are not going” 

“Then we will have to update your family on the protest you are expressing against the school policy. You followed Geto to a mission he was supposed to complete by himself. You persuaded Ieiri Shoko to attend it knowing she is not allowed to go outside the Jujutsu Technical school grounds. You and Geto both didn’t follow the protocol and went AWOL for two weeks in the middle of a busy season” 

“He didn’t persuade Ieiri. She is not an object to be dragged around against her will,” Suguru defends him and Shoko. 

“Sure, I protest against slaving day and night for kicks,” Satoru waves her off. “We are not going” 

“Satoru,” Suguru pats him on the back, guiding them to walk a few steps away. “We’re all set. The twins are safe. How about we head out before it gets worse?” 

Satoru feels like throwing a tantrum, he wants to accuse Suguru of siding with the adversary. However, the cautious and self-possessed part of him, let us call it the Gojo, understands that Suguru is right. 

While Suguru holds his daughters goodbye, promising to call every day and visit them as frequently as he can, his mother winds an arm around Satoru’s neck, standing on her tiptoes — more an attempt to shield than an embrace. She whispers, “You are not alone, Satoru. You are family now, don’t forget about it”

Tatsuki shakes his hand and says, “Stay safe, son” 

He spends the whole ride home curled in Suguru’s arms in the backseat next to the basket and linen tote bags full of fruit. He turns off the technique to spend these hours unconscious. And if he cried in his sleep, Suguru never mentioned it. 

You always have the strangest dreams when sleeping lightly. Satoru dreamed that yesterday’s rain had never stopped. Suguru and him were watching the flood rising higher and higher behind the window, but it wasn’t slipping through the cracks. They were hearing screams of panic, spotting possessions, foreign roof tiles and wooden planks floating in the tide. When everything turned quiet, they realized that they were the only ones who survived, locked in the small bedroom. Suguru turned quiet then, letting out short superficial breaths. Satoru asked if he was scared, but he only shook his head, saying he was just trying to unlearn breathing. 

End of Part 1 

Chapter Text

Shoko is waiting for them at the doorstep of the school building. Walking up the stairs, Suguru methodically examines her pale face, her eyes underlined with bruises of exhaustion. She told Suguru and Satoru that their absence was only unprofitable for the administration, but obviously, people were getting hurt while they were not around and Shoko had to deal with it firsthand. 

“Welcome back, fugitives. Did you have some rest on behalf of us all?” she greets them with a warm smile. 

Yaga stands next to her, tapping his foot against the wooden floor. “Shoko, Suguru, Satoru. Follow me to the office,” he orders neglectfully and turns on his heel, heading inside. 

“Nice hairstyle, Geto,” Shoko chats as they are crossing the corridor under the mezzanine with Yaga walking ahead of them, hands behind his back. Suguru picked up a habit to leave most of his hair loose safe for tying up the locks that fall on his face. Shoko twists a strand of her own around her index finger. “I plan to grow mine out” 

He knows what game she is playing and he wouldn’t be a half of the most insufferable pair in the history of school if he refrained from subtly picking on Yaga’s nerves. “You’d look great! And I decided to stop cutting my hair for good”

Satoru shies away from the idle conversation. Even an opportunity to spit in the face of authority offhandedly doesn’t entice him this time. Now that’s a move — they managed to make Satoru sense disadvantage, Suguru remarks to himself. He is upset, too, but he would rather die than show it in front of his teacher right now. 

Yaga orders them to sit on the floor in front of him in the dimly lit room. His cursed corpses of various forms and sizes are set next to the wall in the back of the room. 

“Satoru. You are leaving tomorrow morning” 

“Right.” He crosses his arms. “What’s your fucking reason?”

“Watch your language. And Suguru will be under close monitoring from now on. We cannot afford two special grade sorcerers to walk without supervision, especially if we keep in mind this… detrimental bond you have” 

Satoru remains unimpressed. “So you think we are conspiring against you?” 

“No one thinks so until you prove us wrong.” Yaga sighs. “We simply keep in mind the resources you have to —“

”To undermine your authority?” Suguru assumes. “Yaga-sensei, all due respect —“ 

“I’d rather you keep your mouth shut, Suguru. Rejoice, they wanted to send you away, but changed their mind because you are burdened with these two sorcerer kids” 

“Burdened?” Suguru arches a brow. 

“Due no respect,” Satoru picks up the thread, “You’ve got to have a massive ego to think we are plotting against you when we simply needed a breather. Not everything is about you in this world” 

“You never complained about the schedule before. What changed your mind? Suguru’s influence?” 

Satoru lifts his hand to prepare the manual sign of Red. 

“No!” Suguru and Shoko exclaim in unison and grab him by both arms. Suguru encircles Satoru’s right wrist and lowers his hand to the floor, keeping his palm in Satoru’s. 

“See, your behavior went out of hand. Don’t forget who you are. You wanted to train your technique without interruption? In Kyoto you won’t be interrupted by anyone, including your friend. If Suguru is having trouble with completing his job, it doesn’t mean you need to stoop to his level just to comfort him”

Shoko bites her lower lip to stop herself from retorting. She steals glasses from Satoru’s face. Putting them on, she doesn’t see a thing. Satoru clenches his fist until he draws blood, and it sticks to Suguru’s fingertips. 

“You are going to regret it.” Satoru gets up first, brushing off his touch. “And we need new shirts. Ours were covered in human blood,” he demands, implying a threat. 

They leave the room together, retreating to the dormitory. They spot Nanami in the corridor, his eyes as tired as Shoko’s, his clothes disheveled. He is carrying his weapon in the black case on his back. 

“Jerk. How dare you leave everything to me?” He accuses Satoru to no response from him, but follows them to Suguru’s room anyway.

Shoko opens the window and leans on the windowpane to light a cigarette, releasing the smoke outside.

Nanami didn’t blame Suguru, but it is him who apologizes. “I’m so sorry, Nanami. I know it was irresponsible of us, but…” 

“Geto-san, you needed rest,” Nanami interrupts. His eyes examine them. “What’s with him?” 

He refers to the way Satoru is sitting next to Suguru on the edge of the bed, clinging to his middle, both arms tight around his waist. He doesn’t utter a word. 

“They are sending Gojo to Kyoto until spring,” Shoko explains.

Suguru tentatively tries to unchain Satoru’s arms from his body. Satoru shakes his head. “Remember when I pinned you face first inside that wooden house? I’m having my own massacre imagery moment. Let me go now and I’ll wipe out the whole campus.” He tightens his grip. 

“Always with the violence.” Nanami clicks his tongue. “That’s your solution to everything?” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Satoru screams out. “You wanted to leave, didn’t you? Good for you because I never will even if I wanted to” 

Nanami stands at the door, unabashed. “What, suddenly realized that sorcery isn’t fun and games?” 

“Fuck you,” he mutters under his breath, losing the fervor to retaliate. 

Suguru urges to mediate without provoking neither of them. Still, he can’t help protecting the person next to him. “Nanami, Satoru needed rest too. He is not a machine. I’m sorry that this time we had a vacation when you deserved it just the same. You and Shoko” 

“Whatever. I’ve got work to do”

“Do you want some apples? My family have grown them” 

Satoru huffs. “Don’t give them away to this traitor, Suguru!” 

“You too have missions in a few hours.” Nanami leaves the room, slamming the door. 

“Gojo,” Shoko probes for his attention gently, keeping her head up to follow the crows floating above the ritual statues made of stone. Suguru focuses on them croaking in various pitches. He takes a deep breath. 

“What! Got some shit to tell me too?” 

“You are very physically gifted.” She grins. 

Satoru turns his head toward the window  where Shoko’s back is facing them as she elegantly drops the ashes onto the lawn. “What does it have to do with anything?” 

“You are literally smothering Geto right now. Don’t your eyes sense that he’s protecting his stomach with cursed energy?” 

Satoru softens the grip immediately, looking up at Suguru with apologetic eyes. He smiles softly, patting Satoru’s head. 

*** 

Shoko suggested that they have a movie night so that Satoru leaves for Kyoto with a sense of belonging to friendly surroundings. One has got to be blind to miss how the idea of departure is tantalizing him. They joked about the prospect of assistants driving Satoru to the railway station in handcuffs.

Suguru comes home late in the evening, finding his friends in the communal room. “Geto! Welcome home, we just began watching,” Shoko greets him. 

On the table in the couching space he sees plenty of snacks: potato chips, milk bread, sweet pastries, marmalade, biscuits, fuzzy drinks. 

Shoko and Satoru wait for him to sit down, but he stares at the food, lingering in the doorway. 

Suguru covers his mouth with a palm. “I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom” 

“Man, are you alright? Need my help?” Shoko sits up, ready to take care of the problem. 

Suguru shakes his head furiously, backing away in tiny steps.  

Satoru jumps from the couch. “It’s because of curses,” he explains to Shoko before running toward the exit. “I’ll go with you, Suguru” 

Suguru almost forgot how to consume cursed spirits. The first one in a while didn’t suffice as a gentle warm-up. Vengeful spirit Kuchisake-onna reincarnated a year since Fushiguro Toji killed it, and began terrorizing the locals in Yokohama. Kuchisake-onna is a renowned subject of modern legends, depicted both in spoken stories and popular media. It is only sequential that it reappeared so soon. The problem is — every vengeful spirit is a special grade by definition. Suguru knows that in his control the likes of Kuchisake-onna are a trump card, so defeating her was beyond hesitation. 

“Didn’t even have to make a binding vow to absorb her,” he remarks, hovering above the toilet. “Still, these beasts always crawl up my throat. They don’t like it there, ha-ha” 

Satoru grazes his hair at the nape. “I hate to leave you. I can’t stand it” 

Suguru goes through a series of dry heaves before spitting into the bowl and getting up, supported by Satoru. “I’m going to be okay. I promise to be careful”

They walk out to the faucets for Suguru to splash his face with cold water. 

Satoru leans on the wall next to the sink and a small mirror, tugging at his sleeve anxiously. They really did deliver the white shirts in an hour after his request. “Don’t think I consider you weak or helpless. I just promised to never leave you alone and then—“ He snaps his fingers. “—we were interrupted again. We’re always out of time” 

Suguru looks up at him. “What did you say back in August?” He wipes his face with the back of his palm. “You think of me and I think of you. As long as we do, we are not apart” 

Satoru grabs his shoulders. “Kiss me. There’s no one here”  

Suguru reaches to peck his cheek once, leaving a few drops of cool water on his skin. 

“No, on the lips” He pouts, wrinkling his nose. 

Suguru grimaces. “I literally just threw up in front of you”

Satoru holds his hips, drawing him closer. “I don’t care. Kiss me”

Sighing, he leaves a close-mouthed kiss on the corner of Satoru’s mouth. 

“Again” 

“Satoru, we will survive. They will still let you have the winter vacation. And we will be on the phone all the time like we always do” 

“Shut up. One more time” 

He gives in. 

Satisfied, Satoru plants one more kiss in between Suguru’s eyebrows. “Can you visit some place while I’m away?” 

“I don’t mind another trip. How far?” 

“Saitama. I’ll mail you the address” 

They come back and Shoko turns the movie back on. Suguru settles on the couch and Satoru lays his head on his lap, his legs dangling from the armrests. 

“Something changed about you two,” Shoko starts, watching at some character’s fingers getting cut off. They are watching a blockbuster filled to the brim with violence and images of bodily injuries, but neither of them bats an eye at such scenes. 

Satoru flinches. “Why?” he asks in a small voice, raising his eyes, scrutinizing Shoko’s reactions. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Like you are finally in sync again. If you mended your friendship, our little misbehavior was definitely worth it” 

Suguru hurries to cover a smirk with his palm. What is going on between them right now has qualities much more ambivalent than friendship. 

He could say that he has never struggled with his sexuality. After finding out that he possessed supernatural powers of tremendous scale, learning that he is different from most people in another, much more earthly sense seemed like a minor inconvenience. He always excelled at picking up social cues, like the offhanded jokes and insults his classmates were throwing here and there, so keeping quiet about his attraction to men was self-explanatory — a lot like concealing the existence of cursed spirits.

A few days after he announced his abrupt transfer to Tokyo at his school, Suguru found one of his classmates at the gates of the dojo right after practice. The boy asked him to step aside and talk. In the shadow of an apple tree he confessed that he liked Suguru in this sense and asked to spend a night together at his place ‘even if Suguru is not gay or doesn’t like him all that much’, confident that Suguru’s departure would keep the both of them safe from rumors. (Looking back, Suguru marvels at the degree of incautious trust the peer had in him). To even out the edges, Suguru confided that he only likes men, indeed, and took up on the offer. 

He didn’t fall in love with that boy afterwards, but he was grateful that he ended up going to Tokyo with a certain knowledge about himself proved empirically. Everything else seemed rather vague at the time, especially his new occupation. 

He fell in love with Satoru Gojo instead. He wanted special — he got special. Appearance, manners, background, everything about Satoru was extravagant, yet he was approachable, their bond was seasoned with matching temperaments and eagerness to get to know each other. In the very first month at that peculiar new school, surrounded by everything foreign and undiscovered, Suguru found the closest friend he had ever had. 

He always convinced himself that his feelings for Satoru were meant to be relished as a figment of imagination: having Satoru to himself, dating like normal people didn’t fit into the puzzle. Dreaming of it seemed more relevant than trying to pursue the relationship, even if Suguru assumed that the feelings were mutual. The two of them had grown into sort of a brand, a package deal — the strongest duo. If they fought and broke up, it would ruin everything: their friendship, the atmosphere in the class and at school, the working environment — or so he assumed, naively convinced that their alliance was a universal mood-setter, important not just for them, but for everyone. 

It was complicated from the start, even before they escaped from hell with their lives and their bond altered forever. 

He wanted to talk with Satoru about last night. Satoru’s promise to protect him caught Suguru off guard. He didn’t necessarily need protection, but Satoru saying that he would never leave Suguru alone has smitten him. He knows that right now Satoru is in love with him. He could possibly ask Satoru to be his boyfriend, but the last time they decided to date in the eye of the hurricane, it didn’t end well. 

Still, at the moment they are in love. At the moment, because their future is unwritten and their faith in having all the time in the world was irredeemably  shattered ages ago. Some part of Suguru still cannot countenance the concept of Satoru staying a constant in his life. The distance between two capital cities doesn’t help. 

Satoru smiles at him from where he’s settled comfortably on his lap. Suguru winks playfully and looks up to focus on the screen. “This movie sucks. I would like to watch something thorough” 

“No one asked for arthome lover’s opinion,” Shoko scoffs. 

“It’s arthouse, dumbass” 

“Ne-erd,” Shoko and Satoru drawl in unison before high-fiving. 

*** 

Satoru didn’t explain why Suguru needed to go to Saitama. He took a train there two days after Satoru went away, in the evening, assuming that Satoru caught a hunch of a valuable curse he could acquire, which is better done around the time the dark settles. The address referred to a two store apartment building nestled in between narrow suburban streets, its yard sheltered from the sky with haphazard knots of old wires. 

A single glance at the people who open the door for him puts everything in its place. A brunette girl about the same age as Nanako and Mimiko stands in the doorway with a boy — whose face makes a perfect regressed copy of Toji Zenin — peeking above her shoulder to observe the unannounced guest. When he picks up Suguru’s appearance, the child walks ahead to stand in front of him. He lifts a protective hand, signaling the girl to step back. They do not look alike, but, in addition to Toji’s son’s attitude, Suguru assumes that they are siblings since they are wearing matching pajamas and the girl holds a toothbrush in her hand, interrupted right before going to bed at her home. 

Suguru gets down on one knee to maintain the children’s eye level, so as to seem less threatening. “Hello. What are your names?” 

“I’m Tsumiki,” the girl mumbles, swiping her thumb back and forth through the bristles of her orange toothbrush. 

“Fushiguro Megumi,” the boy announces sternly, managing to look down on Suguru — the picture of assertion despite  his small and scrawny figure and star-pattern light blue pajamas. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Geto Suguru.” He takes a moment to come up with an excuse. “I have a message from your dad” 

“Whose dad? Mine or Megumi’s”

Of course there’s a trail of family drama when it’s Him we’re talking about. Add “slut” to the infinite list of flaws. 

“Zeni— Fushiguro Toji-san,” Suguru pronounces as if the man deserves honorifics. 

“Ah, yours,” she smiles sadly. 

Satoru won’t see the end of it when Suguru is done. Now he has to find a tentative way to announce patricide to a first grader. Way to spend a Monday evening. “Why don’t we step into the corridor and talk? We will keep the door open so Tsumiki won’t have to worry. I really don’t want to intrude” 

The siblings’ eyes meet in a silent dispute and then they nod to each other. 

“No, you better come in,” Megumi decides. 

“Shouldn’t you believe in stranger danger?” 

“If you’re a bad person I’ll just beat you up,” the boy says. “Won’t leave a trace” 

Suguru must have a hilarious open-mouthed grimace right now. “Really? I’m rather big and tall”

“I don’t care if you’re an old man”

“Ouch. I’m sev—“

“I have invisible dogs and they’ll bite you to death” 

Suguru’s eyes widen. 

“Megumi! I told you to keep them a secret! He’ll think you’re ill” 

Suguru smirks at the way Tsumiki unintentionally revealed that she believes in invisible dogs too in a pure hearted attempt to protect her step-brother. 

“Oh! You have dogs,” Suguru approves nonchalantly. “Look what I have” 

He summons a sparrow-sized round curse with a single red eye and white wings. Megumi doesn’t even bat an eye before calling in a black Divine Dog. Suguru flinches when the shikigami jumps over his shoulder with its wide sharp-toothed mouth open, and crouches next to the corridor wall, munching on leaking purple flesh. 

“Got him!” Megumi squeezes his right fist. 

“You killed his pet? That’s rude,” Tsumiki pouts. Apparently, she doesn’t see cursed energy, so she has to ask. 

“Yes I did,” Megumi says proudly, crossing his arms and holding his head up. 

“Don’t worry. I have lots of other invisible pets,” Suguru comforts her. “I can summon some for you to train and feed your dogs, Fushiguro-kun.” He hopes he doesn’t sound like some pervert who offers candy to kids. 

“It’s Megumi. You may come in,” the boy offers magnanimously and turns his back on Suguru to go inside in the apartment. The black shikigami follows before he calls it back into the shadows. 

He notices two pairs of slippers for adults in the genkan, but refrains from putting on something that might have used to belong to Megumi’s father. He takes off his shoes and steps into the apartment in socks.  

The little king’s residence is in shambles. The open kitchen cabinets are empty. There’s a chair planted in front of the sink which is filled with dirty dishes. The lamp above the kitchen table is blinking. On the table Suguru sees a half-empty box of instant noodles with two pairs of disposable chopsticks left inside. 

“Actually,” Suguru muses, grazing his jaw. “How about I do some grocery shopping for you first? My treat. Do you have a list of things you planned to buy for the week?” 

“We don’t need to make a list because we don’t have enough money to buy many things at once,” Tsumiki explains. 

“Then let’s make a list together! Write down everything you two need” 

“Where do you work to have so much money that you buy food for strangers?” Megumi asks, picking up the plastic box from the table and walking to the fridge. 

“I use my invisible—“

“Okay, don’t be dumb.” Megumi forcefully shuts the fridge. “They are not invisible if we both see them,” he says as if explaining how two plus two equals four. 

Quite a temper this one has. Suguru wants to get Megumi out of here as soon as possible, just to see Satoru verbally bullied with no remorse by a phlegmatic mini-version of Toji. He bets a hundred thousand that the boy would despise Satoru as soon as the latter opens his mouth. The spectacle will serve as Suguru’s deserved moral compensation. 

“Fair enough. Mine are called cursed spirits. And your dogs are called the shikigami” 

“What’s the difference?” 

Go, Suguru. Einstein said if you can’t explain something clearly to a child, you are not competent enough to talk about shit. “Hmm. Have you seen other cursed spirits yourself? At school, maybe. Or on a dark street” 

“Yeah, I saw some ugly monsters near the swimming pool at school” 

“Did something bad happen there lately?” 

“How… how did you guess?” 

“You see, curses appear in places where people don’t feel very well. School is sometimes lonely and scary, or the classmates are bullies, or the teachers are too strict. Also, curses roam in hospitals, because people are hurt or worried for their loved ones or, say, afraid of needles” 

Megumi is nodding knowingly. “Right. School sucks” 

“I’m afraid of hospitals, too. They smell funny. And people are always sad there” Tsumiki chimes in. 

“A girl drowned in the pool last month. Now everyone is afraid of swimming,” Megumi elaborates. 

“Oh, that’s awful” 

“But what does it have to do with your job?”

“I have a special talent to gather cursed spirits. As soon as I pick them up, they become my own and I can use them to save people from other cursed spirits. My high school pays me for killing curses” 

“I thought you were a grown-up,” Tsumiki narrows her eyes, tapping a thumb on her chin.

“Do I look that old?” 

“Yes, but also you are so polite. And you are pretty!” 

Suguru raises his brows. “Thank you?” If attractiveness was a sign of maturity Satoru would be a wise old oak, but it’s certainly not the case. 

Tsumiki comes close to Suguru and when he leans lower, she whispers in his ear, “My best friend from school has an older brother and he’s always so rude to us when we play or sing songs just a little too loudly! But that’s not fair — he always screams bad words when he is playing video games in his room. He never washes his hair and dresses in weird t-shirts” 

“Don’t take it too close to heart. The loser is jealous that you have friends and he doesn’t,” Suguru whispers back. Tsumiki giggles. 

Suddenly her face falls. “But I had a fight with my best friend yesterday” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Why?” 

“Misato wanted to play house, but I told her no. I’m a little tired of taking care of our home every day. Misato got mad and told me that she chooses games because she always invites me to her home and I never invite her to ours. I’m just afraid she will see that we are poor and tell somebody that mom and dad went away” 

Suguru tries to conceal at least half of the sadness he feels for her. He doesn’t want Tsumiki to think he pities her. “You are so strong. May I give you a hug?” 

Tsumiki nods and raises her arms. Suguru lifts her close to his chest. “Do you mind if I help you with the house from now on?” 

“Thank you, Geto-san. But you must be busy with killing curses” 

“I’ve got time for you. Oh, also,” he holds Tsumiki with his left arm and frees the other to grab his phone from the pocket of his uniform pants. He opens the gallery on the tiny screen and searches for the newest pictures. “Look. These are my adopted daughters. They live with my parents in the countryside for now, but soon I will move them to Tokyo. I’m sure they’d like to be your friends” 

“They are twins!” Tsumiki cheers. “Why does this boy wear a wig? Did you have a costume party?” 

In the middle of the picture Satoru shows peace signs with Nanako and Mimiko standing from both sides with wide smiles. “It’s not a wig. He really has white hair and blue eyes” 

“He looks strange” 

“I know, right?” They both chuckle. 

While they gossiped, Megumi was pondering until coming to a conclusion. “So my dogs are different because I didn’t pick them up. They just came on their own” 

“Yes, they belong to you. Later other pets will appear and serve you too” 

“What other pets?” Megumi asks, smiling for the first time since Suguru came to this house. 

“As far as I remember, there are also frogs and bunnies. And a huge bird, like an owl” 

“Bunnies!” Tsumiki squeals. “It’s so sad that I can’t see them!” Non-sorcerer — confirmed.  

“When did you befriend your dogs, Megumi?” Suguru cradles Tsumiki in his arms. Most likely, it has been a long time since someone gave her this kind of affection. She patiently stays in place, scared that soon Suguru would let her go. 

“Two months ago. They just came from the shadows in the corner of our bedroom. And I had a feeling that they’re friendly so I pet them. Then they disappeared, but when I called for them, they came again. At first I could only ask them to come at night. Now I can walk with them in the afternoon, too” 

“You are a smart boy” 

Megumi shrugs. He watches Tsumiki hesitantly. Suguru assumes he wants a comforting touch too, but is afraid to ask. He comes closer and pets his head gently. Megumi leans into the touch, blushing, but takes a step back in a few moments. “Tsumiki, you write the shopping list. I’m a slow writer” 

Tsumiki perks up and Suguru lands her on the floor. She unsticks two pieces of paper from a set of sticky notes attached to the fridge with a magnet. “And your handwriting is messy. You don’t learn your kanji,” she adds. 

“Shut up. I read faster than you” 

The siblings slowly compose a shopping list at the kitchen table, negotiating thoroughly the items they need. The elders at Jujutsu Tech do not work as hard to make life and death decisions as the Fushiguros do with the groceries. Tsumiki points out which foods last longer, describes what she can use to cook the most nutritious meals and reprimands Megumi for requesting too much expensive snacks. By expensive she means 400 yen potato chips, and the degree of disadvantage and the way two innocent children are already so used to poverty brings tears to Suguru’s eyes. 

While they’re busy with their junior council Suguru retreats to find the bathroom and have a call where their ears can’t reach. 

“Idiot,” he hisses as soon as the beeps turn into the hum of white noise. 

“I missed you too, Suguru! What’s up?” 

“You tell me what’s up. You could at least warn a guy that we set upon building an orphanage” 

“I just thought you’d be against one more kid right after Mimi and Nana, but once you see the boy your heart will melt and you won’t argue. I decided to manipulate your fatherly instinct” 

Suguru should give him credit. He knows where to push. 

“But really, why now? The timing is weird” 

“I wanted to visit him myself since, you know, it was me who got a blessing from the devil himself. He used the sacrament of last words to lure me into babysitting again. But then Yaga turned out to be a BASTARD,” he screams so loudly into the line that Suguru has to pull the phone away from his ear for a second. “So we’re in a bit of a rush. The deadbeat sold his son to Zenin clan and they will most likely pick him up once his technique manifests” 

Suguru has to sit down on the tiled floor to steady himself. People sell their children. A grown man sold his only son. For money? For the sake of deliverance? What a twisted world. 

“We need to act fast. It manifested already” 

“For real? Is it one of the heritables?” 

“Worse, Satoru. It’s straight up jackpot” 

“Don’t tell me it’s—“

“Ten Shadows” 

Satoru whistles, deeply pleased. “Awesome” 

Suguru is overcome with newborn fondness for these children and fury for their fate. He wants to wail and kick and tear this world limb from limb in their name and in the name of Nanako and Mimiko. But they need him now, sharp and collected. So instead, he laughs to tame the frustration. “Let’s just admit that Toji did have some cursed energy and it was all in his one lucky sperm. I kind of respect the guy now. Can’t imagine a bigger karmic ‘Fuck you’ to Zenin clan than an outcast birthing the pinnacle of ancestral glory”

Satoru laughs out. “Yes, this is just beautiful” 

They stay silent for a minute. Suguru can hear the drumbeat of train wheels on the other end. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Hyogo,” he replies. “I’ve been training to teleport long distance, but they didn’t allow me to use it for commuting. They are afraid I’m trying to get so good I’ll run away to you” 

“Satoru,” his voice softens. 

“Yes, dear” 

“There’s two of them. Megumi has a stepsister. Her name is Tsumiki. They are both lovely” 

He feels a fond smile in Satoru’s voice. “Yeah?” 

“Smart, vibrant, friendly. Megumi is protective of his sister like you wouldn’t believe. But their home… they are short on literally everything. One more month of this sorry excuse of a living and they’ll have to starve.” Suguru rubs his swollen eyes. “What are we going to do?” 

“I want to stop the selling process and make an agreement with Jujutsu Tech. They will financially support Megumi and his sister and in exchange he will become a sorcerer in the future” 

Suguru freezes. He opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out until he can’t help but scream out, “No way!” 

Tsumiki knocks at the door, asking if he is okay. “I’m alright, angel. I’m just having a phone call. Don’t worry” 

Hearing her walk away, he presses the phone to his ear again and struggles to keep his voice low. “Satoru, Megumi is an orphan. I’m sure he already feels like nothing belongs to him but his Divine Dogs. You can’t force this debt on a child, especially a debt that could result in his death before he pays it back” 

“I told you I will make a change after Haibara’s death and everything they’ve done to us. Megumi is talented so he will be a strong ally. We will teach him everything we know” 

Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s  shortsightedness. “What if he doesn’t even want to be a sorcerer?” 

“Then we might as well leave him be. I mean, Suguru, be reasonable. It’s either that or parading for the Zenins. He will become a sorcerer anyway. We can raise him as strong as me, so that in the future he and some other kids take my place and everyone leaves me alone” 

He could only assume that Satoru decided to get back at the higher-ups for sending him away. And his masterplan to regain authority is… Suguru has to count his breaths. Inhale, hold, exhale. Repeat. 

“Are you there?” Satoru inquires. 

“So let me get this straight,” he starts, his every word distinctive and his voice taut. “You sent me here to indoctrinate a child? And you want to raise a Gojo Satoru copy out of him. Now here’s a question. Is it really so good to be you if you want to run away from it?”

“What else can I do?” 

Suguru clicks his tongue, acknowledging the desperation in Satoru’s voice. He really is ready to consciously enslave a child just to save himself. Such a clear image of the environment Satoru comes from. Why not call for its almighty privileges? 

“There’s got to be some other way. Can you pull some strings? Don’t you have money?” 

“My clan does. They never refuse a chance to pick on the adversary, but they will not engage purely on my whim. They respect the mandate of inherited technique” 

At that his own strings break at last. “Gojo, stop talking politics when a child’s life is on the line!”

Satoru gasps. “What did you just call me?” 

“You heard me! If you don’t want to do shit, I will have to face the clan and set him free” 

Satoru sucks in a breath. “Don’t you dare cross their way on your own. I’m serious, don’t!” 

“Why not? Didn’t you complain about slaving for kicks?” 

“You want me to spell it out for you? There you go. Your word has no weight, okay? You ain’t shit when you lack lineage. Only I can bring anything to the table when it comes to clan controversy” 

Suguru detaches the phone from his ear to look at the screen. He cannot believe he is talking to the same person. 

He presses the phone back. “Then I’ll die trying” 

“Are you looking for a reason to destroy yourself right after we all pulled you back?” 

It’s too late to calm down. 

“So that’s what you think I am.” He clicks his tongue. “Let me spell it out for you. I’m doing it for the kids”

“Then swallow your pride and let me take care of it so that they wouldn’t have to visit the grave of Geto the Curse User every Sunday. I only wanted you to take a look at the brat and you’re throwing a tantrum” 

Nanami’s strained voice rings in his head, “How about he takes care of everything from now on?” 

“I’ve got to go. I promised Megumi and Tsumiki to buy groceries”

“Wait, listen!” 

Suguru hangs up. 

Chapter Text

Suguru was commissioned to investigate the industrial docks for the presence of cursed activity inside a warehouse with unpacked cargo. The windows reported that recently workers have been quitting the job for unknown reasons, saying one particular building “disturbed them”. 

He sneaks into the chilly spacious storage from the side of Tokyo Bay seashore, walking up the stairs and through the back door. He summons a curse that looks like a pufferfish that radiates green neon light, helping himself move in between crates and boxes. He found plenty of cursed spirits roaming on top of the cargo, hiding behind the walls of wooden boxes. Suguru exorcizes them one by one. Initially he planned to destroy the third grades and gather the second grades into his inventory. Yet he reminisces promising Megumi to bring some weak ones for his Divine Dogs and decides to consume all the spirits. In the end he is left with a pile of blue and brown remnants he has to absorb. The images of Megumi with his shikigami helps Suguru complete the task. 

Walking toward the front gate that would lead him to the exit from the docks and back in the city, Suguru senses presence of other people, supposedly sorcerers. He hides behind a white metal trailer. Peering from behind the rusty wall, he spots three figures.

A fair-haired woman in a purple dress is chatting animatedly with a young man. Half of his face is crippled with burns; he keeps a sheathed sword on his waist. These two sorcerers exhibit a clear but weak signature of cursed energy. The  third person has none. Suguru figures she is either a non-sorcerer accomplice or is able to conceal her residuals, just like Suguru himself. The mysterious woman has dark hair and a facial scar stretching along her forehead. 

The group is standing next to an open trailer, surrounded by boxes filled with sea food, judging by the writing on the surface of one of the boxes. Apparently they brought the caged or tamed low-level cursed spirits to scare off the local workers and with rumours spreading, some stronger curses were born inside the storage. 

Suguru could leave through the back door now and dodge the confrontation, but he simply feels curious about this group’s business and wants to make them find another place to do it. The whole building reeks of rotten fishnet, so he doesn’t want to return here any time soon. 

He assumes a peaceful but self-assured stance, stepping outside to show his face. “Okay, fellow sorcerers, what is going on here?”

The man pointedly sizes him up. “Using our low profile to pick up drugs for stupid normies to sell to other stupid normies. What you gon’ do? Call the cops?” 

The light-haired woman points her finger, screaming, “That uniform!” She crosses her arms, sticking her tongue out. “Geh, the boy is slaving for the wage” 

Suguru throws his arms in surrender. “No proud slave, but I have children to feed. Needs must” 

“Aren’t you a teenager? Knocked up someone?” She twirls her hair. “Never thought y’all had enough free time to sleep around” 

“None of your business, lady.” He barely managed to finish the phrase before he had to dodge a sword attack from the man.  

They end up standing across each other in a patch of bare floor next to the sea food trailer. The curse user raises the sword preparing to attack again.

The woman with a facial scar watches the fight impassively until Suguru summons the cursed spirit that used to belong to Toji Fushiguro and draws a sword of his own to fight back. 

“Wait!” she screams out, raising her hand toward the man. “That’s Cursed Spirit Manipulation. What a miracle. Let him go.” She is looking at Suguru with a gambler’s curiosity.

It always puzzled him why his technique surprises every single person Suguru has ever encountered. Now he understands that it wouldn’t be so if it was a renowned inherited technique. Back in the day Yaga had little idea how to teach him because there were almost no written accounts describing the usage of Cursed Spirit Manipulation. Never mind the fact that the school’s security system wasn’t adapted to it in any way and he had to request special permission every time he craved some practice. Everything he knows he has learned with coach Inoue’s help or on his own. 

“Fine.” The man steps away. He walks into the trailer and continues overturning the crates. Oysters and ice cubes scatter on the ground, falling apart and tinkling like xylophone keys. 

Suguru decides to keep the cursed spirit on his shoulder, but he doesn’t plan to disrupt the truce. He doesn’t feel like fighting at all. He is fucking exhausted. His every limb is sore from working overtime. “You know, as we are united in disdain for the system, I’ll let you go this one time. Just find a new spot. I don’t want to clean up your mess twice” 

“Never heard that a person with your technique was born recently. Which clan are you from?” the woman with a scar asks. “I’m Kaori, by the way”

“I’m Manami!” the other woman barges in, waving frantically.  

“I’m from no clan,” he replies defensively. 

Kaori shakes her head, amused. “My, my. Why so angry? Some elitist fuck hurt you? Come, have a conversation with people who get it,” she invites him to sit on a wooden box next to her, patting the surface. The man with the sword utters, “Found it,” hiding something in the layers of his traditional white vest. He forces the doors of the trailer shut and steps over the oyster shells to stand next to Manami. 

Suguru wants to slap his own cheek. He cannot believe he is enticed to vent to a group of criminals. Yet what other options does he have? If he crossed the subject in front of Shoko or Nanami, they would throw a ‘Told ya’ his way. Satoru’s unaffected nature doesn’t surprise them.

Suguru remains standing, but walks a few steps toward their circle. He isn’t supposed to get too close to them, but he is confident that his abilities would get him out even if the three of them attacked at the same time. He picks up a shard of ice from the floor and throws it into Manami’s hands. She passes it to the swordsman, who does the same, aiming for Kaori. The ice melts in Suguru’s palm after her pass. Manami giggles at the game, picking up another shard to continue. 

Kaori catches the piece of ice and tosses it to the swordsman, chatting relentlessly, “I mean, this Tengen of yours is annoying us all. If you have an old hag who locked herself underground as a living balancing act, who would be surprised that some conservatives push us all around according to their primitive hedonistic view on justice and harmony while Tengen meditates in her cave or whatever” 

Suguru tosses the ice before it melts completely. He didn’t realize that Tengen used to be a woman. It is logical, if one thinks about it. They always used girls as vessels. “You’re preaching to the choir,” he scoffs. 

“It’s her who created the concept of sorcery as an art of saving people from curses. She enchained gifted people with pointless responsibilities back when cursed activity was as extreme as the sorcerer’s level of artistry. The clans are her direct legacy. Isn’t it reasonable to control some nouveau-riche like you by making you disadvantaged? Cursed Spirit Manipulation is mighty. What are you, first grade? Special grade? You’ve got enough brute force to overthrow their establishment. Of course they keep you in check,” she muses.

”Ha, loser!” Manami cheers when the swordsman ends up with water in his palms. 

Suguru’s squints. “Who talks about overthrowing anything? Don’t remind me you’re a curse user” 

The woman’s intricate knowledge of jujutsu society’s core frightens him. He breathes out into his palms to warm them after the game, contemplating a reserved answer. “I don’t care, really. The only winning move in the sorcery game is not to play, but I chose to be involved long ago. I just wish they’d refrain from ganging up on me to prove that there’s only so much I can do even if I am as strong you describe me” 

And Satoru is the hallmark of clan politics. Suguru introduced him to his own world, but is incapable of even peeking into Satoru’s. It’s like the fight Tsumiki told him about. Satoru claims an exclusive right to choose games because it’s his home Suguru was invited in. He wants to play house all the time when Suguru is busy maintaining a real one. 

“No need to be self-conscious. Keep your head up. There are hundreds of miserable blurry faces who’d pay to have your powers” 

Are you Satoru’s attorney? Lately Suguru was bringing a pack of Seven Stars to every mission to release some tension. He is using assistant managers as legally approved dealers for his and Shoko’s demand. Suguru passes cigarettes to Kaori and Manami and they flick his reusable metal lighter one after another. Their buddy refuses the favor. 

Suguru exhales smoke after a deep drag. “It’s rather contrived, don’t you think?” He bends his elbow, holding the cigarette elegantly like decadent women do in European pictures from the 1910s. “Taking pride in something you were simply born with. My power is just an instrument of service, not a decoration” 

He can’t wrap his head around the absolute absurdity of these surroundings. If you’re born wrong, like Suguru, or — the best possible example is Megumi’s father — you are dirt under their shoes. If you’re born right, like Satoru or Megumi, they turn you into a tool. All quiet on the eastern front of a society that exists on the basis of inherent abilities and child labor.

This world is hostile to all of them, even the people in front of him who managed to escape the chains one way or another. Yet he can’t imagine himself leaving it any time soon. 

At least in Suguru’s home you could earn a place under the sun if you tried hard enough. 

Kaori bursts out laughing. Even Manami arches a brow at the disproportionate reaction. “Isn’t it boring? Serving something futile?”

This is how every doorbell promoter’s speech and cult invitation begins, ‘Are you not satisfied with your life? Do you want me to show you an alternative?’ Give me a break. 

Suguru rolls his eyes. “I’m serving the people I love. It’s not boring, it has a meaning” 

“And if they leave you?” Kaori smirks. 

He shrugs. “It’s their choice. I’m out,” he says before walking to the exit. 

“Wait, wait! Please take my number. Call me if you want another kid, handsome.” Manami reaches out to him, holding a piece of paper. He hesitantly takes it and hides in his pocket. “And thanks for the cig!” 

He waves the strangers goodbye at the gate and summons a curse to bring him toward the exit from the docks. 

Stepping back into the city, he stumbled upon a huge screen attached to the wall of a mall. The screen was broadcasting the weather report. Suguru stood on the pavement, busy people were bumping into him as he patiently waited for the host to talk about the weather in Kyoto. 

*** 

Right after the mission Suguru decided to visit the Fushiguros to prepare meals for the rest of the week. Tsumiki greeted him with an endearing peace sign and retreated to the bedroom to complete her homework. Megumi met Suguru with a scowl, saying he smells like expired sashimi.

He got permission to take a shower, but the tap broke right under his hands. He wasn’t surprised. In the past weeks Suguru managed to fix almost every appliance and piece of furniture in this apartment. Obviously, when two children can’t call a plumber for the fear of someone discovering their status, after one and a half years of living on their own the things fall apart. Dad, you are the man. I send you my prayers, Suguru whispers blessings while spinning the wrench.

Two and half weeks. He hasn’t talked with Satoru for almost three weeks. Held sophisticated conversation with a trio of curse users instead. It’s getting old. They still didn’t reach an agreement regarding Megumi’s fate. 

Megumi is sitting on top of the washing machine, watching Suguru work on the water tap. 

“How old should I be to become a curse killer?” he asks with clear determination. 

Suguru can’t help admiring the mysterious ways the genes express themselves. What chemical exactly made Megumi call himself a curse killer, parroting his late father’s moniker? 

“It’s sorcerer. Why do you ask?” he inquires, trying to take the question lightly. Anxiety burns in his ribs. 

Megumi hops onto the floor and picks up the uniform jacket Suguru has set aside along with the shirt and undershirt to keep them dry while working with sanitary ware. 

The boy tries the jacket on, buttons it, too. Its edge reaches his ankles. “I want to become a sorcerer too then,” Megumi waves his arms, playing with the long sleeves. “I will tame the big bird and make money for Tsumiki to buy our own food. She worries that soon we spend the rest of her mom’s money”

“It’s fine that you think I’m ready to leave you any time.” Megumi falters, urging to protest. Suguru waves him off, raising a hand to warn him against stepping too close to the bathtub in case water splashes from the tap abruptly. “No, really, it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot and I do not ask for unconditional trust. But I already gave Tsumiki some money and told her to set aside the rest of her mother’s savings. You can tell me if you need more anytime” 

Suguru had some savings before, but recently he dispatched them to his family to support Nanako and Mimiko’s upbringing. His parents don’t plan on retiring any time soon — they are only forty years old — but Suguru assumes a duty to help them because the endeavor to adopt these children was entirely his. He won’t be surprised though, if his mother doesn’t agree with this conviction and is putting his money in the drawer to give it back to Suguru as soon as he visits them. Sachiko Geto is as stubborn as… himself. 

Almost all his royalties from recent missions — and he was running himself aground with the amount he took up, much to Yaga’s endorsement — Suguru is bringing to the other two siblings. It doesn’t leave much for himself, but with perpetual nausea he is surviving almost purely on oxygen, nicotine and iced tea; all his clothes are proper so far. 

He is wired for challenges of this kind. When he moved to Tokyo, Suguru took his time in learning to build a budget and save money although the student pension and payments covered more needs than he had ever had. 

His family used to be borderline destitute for the longest time. When his parents had just started a family, everyone refused to aid them. Especially Suguru’s paternal grandparents whom mom recalls crying on the day of their wedding. 

Born in the year 1990, Suguru was spending his childhood in the decade of economic crisis, tangible not only in the cities where the real estate market had tragically collapsed, but in the outskirts too — such occurrences always ricochet on all sides. His mother once told him that she only agreed to marry his father because he didn’t carry any loans or a mortgage on his back — those were the ultimate causes for the national crisis. 

Every single thing in their possession they built and earned on their own. Suguru still remembers the lack of food and clothing and how apologetic his parents looked when he absentmindedly demanded some toy he had seen in a TV commercial. They didn’t explicitly talk about the struggle with money so as not to fill their precious son’s head with adult problems, but he was sensing the desperation in the air back at four years old and was acutely aware of the situation later on. 

Suguru wonders how jujutsu society was feeling during the nineties when Tokyo was falling apart like a house of cards. Satoru described his childhood as carefree, said he was spoiled rotten. It is ironic how every current student of Jujutsu Tech suffices as a blueprint of the hungry age — every single one of them is the only child, except Haibara who had a sister.

Perhaps the money that rotates in the seclusion of jujutsu society helps its financial stability. The individual sorcerers spend their salary like ordinary citizens, but the collective budget gets poured into the headquarters through subsidies from the police and government in exchange for cooperation and confidentiality regarding the existence of curses. In this regard, any political or economic crisis is supposed to be profitable to the higher-ups, because the panic increases the number of curses and the government is pressed for finding help from jujutsu sorcerers. The worse the better. 

Having attached the shower hose firmly, Suguru settles on the floor, leaning his back against the wall of the bathtub. “Megumi-kun. What I’m doing is a very dangerous job. Sometimes curses are so evil they may kill you. And sometimes people who have talents like yours and mine choose not to save people, but to harm others. They are also dangerous” 

He frowns, disenchanted. “I take it back. Tsumiki would be so-o scared for me” 

Suck it, Satoru. 

“Why do you still work there? Doesn’t your family worry about you?” 

Suguru simply shrugs. “I suppose they do. I had a squabble with my best friend a few weeks ago. I still think he was in the wrong, but for the most part he just didn’t want me to get in trouble” 

Megumi nods knowingly, squeezing his eyes. “I get it. Tsumiki always gets mad when I beat up boys at school. But she just worries that I’ll be spelled” 

“Expelled,” Suguru corrects, smirking. “What are you beating people up for?” Megumi feels that he’s about to be scolded, so he stays silent, twitching the sleeve of Suguru’s jacket. “Relax, pal! I had my own gang back in middle school, so I’m in no position to judge” 

“I only beat up bullies,” Megumi defends himself. “They are annoying. Life is hard already, why do they act like they have a right to make it even harder?” 

It is abundantly clear that Megumi will be a force to be reckoned with. Suguru wishes, though, that the boy wasn’t as mature and philosophical as he is at five years old. “Oh yeah, me and my buddies did the same. Well, they wanted to throw fists for the sake of it, but I was the leader, so I was making decisions” 

Megumi takes off the jacket and carefully plants it on the washing machine. “Geto-san, about that…” He wrings his hands, anxious. 

“Hm?” Suguru gets up, silently offering to move to the kitchen. 

Megumi only continues talking when Suguru hands him a cup of tea. He cradles the cup in his tiny palms. “The principal asked to bring my parents to school to talk about my behavior. He was asking many times but Tsumiki and I always hid from him. Can you go? Tell him you are my brother or something” 

“Sure. My mom used to defend me when they called her up for the same reason. It's a legacy, ha!” Suguru sips on his own tea. The sugar he added makes him nauseous. He wanted to recompense the lack of calories Satoru-style but cursed spirits seem to only get along with him in the state of absolute starvation. 

The corners of Megumi’s mouth raise, but his eyes remain sad. Perhaps the mention of a real parent disrupted his mood. 

Smiling with all his might, Suguru pats his shoulder across the table. “If you want, I’ll pretend to be the bad guy and act like I only came to find out if my little brother won the fight” 

Making this gloomy boy snicker is Suguru’s new favorite hobby. “No! Be nice and tell lies like,” Megumi holds his own nose, attempting to speak in a lower key, mimicking Suguru’s adult voice, “Megumi is such a good boy, you just misunderstand him”

Suguru gasps, scandalized. “But you are a good boy! That’s not a lie”

“No, I'm bad. I called my dog and he jumped on one of these bullies. The boy tripped and peed his pants from the scary feeling” 

“Holy shit.” Suguru covers his face, chest heaving. They laugh to tears. 

***

Megumi and Tsumiki fell asleep while Suguru was taking his time to prepare the meals. He left the rice in the cooker for Tsumiki to boil in the morning, cut the fresh cabbage and carrot salad, put it in the fridge. He quickly prepared the ham and cheese sandwiches for school lunches and began cooking the main dishes. 

Despite having to take the last train to the campus later and waking up early for work, Suguru was in the mood to take it slow, feeling the impact behind every movement. He decided to make curry with vegetables from his parents’ garden and fry chicken chops. He added dry ginger to the breading as Megumi particularly likes it. With a tad of mischief, Suguru peeled and cut a single eggplant to sneak into the curry, even though neither of the siblings find it tasty. To Suguru it’s bland, but he just knows — the more vegetables the healthier. 

He is peeling the carrots when his phone rings. He lets go of the knife and looks at the screen. 

It’s about time. 

“I hate you. I hate you so much” 

Suguru hums, trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder to free his hands and continue, shedding the carrot peel into the bin. “And why is that?” 

“Because everything used to be so simple before Geto Suguru. But you had to find an approach to me, befriend me, domesticate me. ‘Satoru take care of yourself’, ‘Satoru be more polite’, ‘Satoru let’s greet our juniors warmly’, ‘Satoru try this, try that’ — all this bullshit. You carved a spot for me. A day without you became an empty, pointless day. Food tasted bland if we weren’t eating together. Video games became boring if I couldn’t brag about my level to you”

Suguru puts the carrots into the cooking pot and pulls out the washed potatoes one by one from the kitchen sink. Judging by the way Satoru decided to recount their collective biography, Suguru assumes that the conversation is to be lengthy, so he plants the phone on the counter and puts it on speaker. 

“I wouldn’t have nothing against Kyoto if it didn’t mean living a hundred miles away from you. Now I don’t know where to put myself half of the time” 

“What else do you hate me for?” 

“For your fucking depression that opened my eyes. What if I never wanted to acknowledge what happened to you and me? ‘Toji’s a loser, I win! I’m the best! Yay!’ No, you had to struggle like a human being and make me face our past too” 

“Shit” 

“Damn straight, Shit! ”

“Not that, I just cut my finger with a kitchen knife.” Suguru wipes off the blood against his pants. 

“Oh no, is it deep?” Satoru’s voice softens. 

The blood refuses to stop. He sucks on his finger. “Just a scratch. Continue, please. What else?” 

Reanimated anger invades his tone immediately. “Building walls around myself felt fucking amazing! Now I can’t even remember why maintaining Limitless twenty-four-seven seemed like such a brilliant idea”

Suguru puts a fist against his mouth to cover up the amusement. “Anything else?” He can’t help the gleeful note slipping into the phrase. Satoru doesn’t notice it. Like the clueless idiot he is. 

“You went out of your way to make me a better person. I wanted to do whatever the hell pops into my head. Kill the cultists. Blast Yaga’s brains. Indoctrinate a child. I should have stayed alone to begin with, flaunt my power, scare everyone, be arrogant and rude and selfish. I’d be on top of the world by now if it wasn’t for you. I’d be god and no one could touch me. My future used to be decided. It was in my DNA.”

He pauses then. The rest of his words are alternating with sobs, “Now I want to go back to the countryside, I want to pick up hobbies and learn all these useless skills, I want to get along with your kids, I want your approval and your eyes on me and your touch.” Satoru trips upon his own breaths, whimpering, “You ruined sorcery for me, you ruined my whole life” 

Suguru sighs, driving the cubes of potatoes from the cutting board into the pot. “That’s it?” 

“Yes. Goodnight” 

“Goodnight, Satoru. Sleep well” 

Suguru pats his pockets, looking for his Seven Stars. He hopes the children won’t be upset if he smokes on their balcony one time.

“This guy.” Only he can console Suguru by listing the reasons he claims to hate him for. Suguru didn’t realize that his ordinary world was a hard pill to swallow, too. “We could call it even, I guess,” he says to himself, opening the balcony door. Standing shirtless in the windy evening, he gazes at the light disappearing from the neighborhood, window by window, lamp by lamp. 

On the next day he received a check with fifty thousand yen put on his school bank account. The additional message read, “Fuck you”. 

Chapter Text

Suguru was walking the streets of Ibaraki in search of the assistant manager when he was hit with the sensory indication that someone erased the protective curses he had left at the doors of the Fushiguros’ apartment. He couldn’t recognize if it was Megumi. He had to make sure. 

He got the news while in too far a distance to use a cursed spirit to get to the apartment, so he called the assistant manager and threatened, persuaded, pressed them to meet him and drive him to the nearest train station that would bring him straight to Saitama. 

Breaking into the usually vibrant neighborhood Suguru has noticed that the streets are eerily empty. He was hoping that, in case the residents were evacuated for some reason, Megumi simply took care of the curses and the siblings joined the crowd. 

On the porch of the familiar house he sees Tsumiki. She is curled into herself on the stairs, crying quietly. His steps startle her before she recognizes who approached her. “Geto-san! It’s so good that you’re here-e-e,” she weeps, reaching for him immediately. He lifts the girl up from the ground and she wraps her arms tightly around his neck. She whispers into his ear as they walk up the stairs to come back to the apartment. She talks about men in kimonos. 

Suguru takes his cellphone and presses the speed dial while cradling Tsumiki for comfort. 

“Hey,” Satoru greets him softly, but then seems to change his mind. “What do you want?” he grumbles. 

Suguru doesn’t have time to deal with attitudes. “I’m still mad at you too, I guess. But they kidnapped Megumi and are bringing him to the Zenin quarters. It’s in Kyoto, right?” 

He internally prays that they will reach an agreement at least at this point. 

“Say less,” Satoru answers and adds, “Jerk” before hanging up. 

Before he could settle Tsumiki in the kitchen and give her at least a glass of water — for the lack of comforting words, Suguru feels the pressure in the air. Turning his head to the window, he sees a dark patch slowly covering the sky. A curtain is falling.

He assumes that the Zenin agents who kidnapped Megumi have returned to target Tsumiki, so he rushes to summon his manta ray spirit and send the girl to Shoko. He brings Tsumiki to the balcony and plants her on the cursed spirit. “I know you can’t see it, but it is holding you firmly. You won’t fall. Try not to look at the ground on the way”

Yet this is exactly what Tsumiki is doing at this moment. Suguru follows the spot in the yard that got her so focused. 

One glance downwards sends shudders down his spine. 

This must be a nightmare.

Suguru feels like a side character in a theater piece, about to die during the exposition and be forgotten until the final act gives a meaning to his death. Darkness, villainous stuffy air. Enter… 

“Geto-san! That’s Megumi’s daddy.” Tsumiki points her finger, gazing overboard the expanse of the curse. 

Suguru grips her hand. “Wait, Tsumiki. Megumi’s father is dead. That’s not the real him,” he barely manages to pronounce the words between laborious breaths of rising panic.

“Dead?” she asks in disbelief. 

Someone in Fushiguro’s disguise speaks at last, raising his head in their direction and putting a flat palm against his forehead, “Hey you, guy with the bangs. I see you do not really want to live long, do you?” He scratches his temple. “As I’m in a great mood today I’ll let you do what you meant to with this child before giving you an extra lesson” 

“Go!” Suguru orders the cursed spirit and it flies away. He knows he should focus on the enemy, but, naively believing Toji Fushiguro’s favor, he waits for the curse to cross the curtain — he needs to know if it lets the cursed spirits out. He won’t leave the secluded district without a fight today. 

“Who are you?” he glances downwards again after making sure the manta ray disappeared. He is gripping the railing for dear life. If only Toji saw how his knees are trembling behind the balcony. He’d kill him for the sole cowardice. 

Toji is stretching his arms. “Uh, you’re asking. Some old bitch decided to summon the strongest body around. But she didn’t expect that my soul would leak into her sidekick, too. Any more questions?” 

“Lots,” he bites back and summons his armor — three Omukade spirits that look like giant centipedes. The mystical insects crawl behind his back, waiting for his command. 

Suguru misses the moment when Toji plastered him into the wall of the apartment’s living room, leaving the three first-grades to fall apart and vanish into thin air. 

He punches through the remains of the walls and dashes downstairs and outside, hearing howl of destruction behind his back. Battling this beast in the entrapment of a small space is a losing game.

***

When Satoru arrived in the Zenin estate in his best clan attire — a layer of perpetual Infinity, Naobito Zenin met him with elegancy — as much as an inebriated person could show. Satoru told that he came to greet the brand new Ten Shadows user. Naobito agreed to grant this favor with a self-assured smile, twisting his mustache. He lead Satoru through the court.

Naoya Zenin waved him from a conference room with an open door. Satoru didn’t respond. He hates that derivative coward. They met once as kids and he was gashing about his pathetic cousin named Toji, about the man’s sorry fate. Satoru doesn’t appreciate neither of them, but Toji had a hundred times more game than that young people pleaser surrounded by kintsugi vases. Satoru shakes his head. Gone is the glorious history of Zenin and Gojo antagonism. If he met Naoya one-on-one he’d slam him like a cockroach.

After an impromptu excursion Naobito brought Satoru to a supplementary building in the back of the garden. The corridor leads them to tall stone doors with silver handles protected by a knot of thick rope.

“He is training. Want to see?”  

“Gladly.” Satoru smirks. Apparently Megumi was upset and unresponsive so they decided to do what they can do best — throw him in a room with curses and test his resolve. “Did you at least instruct him on the technique?” 

“Of course. It’s a family jewel. Who do you think we are?”  

Naobito notices two little twin sisters — Ogi Zenin’s daughters — guarding the doors and waves a hand to shoo them without even sparing a glance. Animals, that’s who you are. 

One of the sisters — Mai, is worried to the point of tears. Maki keeps the tears hidden behind fury, ready to step into the room and fight anytime. Satoru heard about her. She can’t see curses. 

Before running away, Maki stops in front of Satoru and gestures, asking him lean to her eye level. Naobito unties the ropes. “I wish they all died,” Maki whispers in Satoru’s ear and walks away, her wooden sandals clacking on marble floors.

When they open the door they see Megumi flying under the ceiling, supported by Nue shikigami. There’s blood dripping from one of his nostrils from the pressure of maintaining the technique. Standing in the doorway, Satoru snaps his fingers once and the curses get squeezed into pulp in the center of the room and melt one after the other, gleaming blue. 

Megumi lands on the ground, falling to his knees right into the pool of purple blood. Nue catches a cursed spirit’s clawed limb and swallows it before disappearing. 

Satoru stretches his arms above his head. “Okay, Zenin. Now that you began abusing the child, let us negotiate,” he patronizes. 

“I knew the Gojos never pay visits without a hidden agenda.” The man snorts. 

Satoru walks down the stairs toward Megumi. The boy crawls backwards, shocked and disillusioned. Satoru keeps the distance of a few steps, but leans forward. “I came here to get you out of this place,” he tries to reassure him. 

“Do you know where Tsumiki is?” Megumi stutters.  

Satoru has no idea. Before he could make up a lie, Naobito answers from above the stairs, “I guess she’s dead”

“Hm,” Satoru holds onto the nonchalant facade. He turns around, leaving Megumi in his shadow. “How come?” 

Naobito slowly walks down, taking a seat in the middle of the stairway. He props his chin with a hand, holding a can of beer in the other. Perhaps he was hiding it in the sleeve of yukata. “Ain’t the first time I’m convinced that your family has no respect for anyone, even for each other. But it was nice to see they could stoop so low” 

“What do you mean?” Satoru cocks an eyebrow. 

“They’ve sent a little someone to threaten your sidekick — the one with Cursed Spirit Manipulation technique. The brat gets in the way of your loved ones, I assume. And if they caught him with the girl, well.” He shrugs. “Who knows” 

It takes everything in Satoru not to let go of the cursed energy that threatens to explode at all sides. He needs to save face for the sake of Megumi’s freedom. Naobito is an experienced sorcerer, he is well capable of examining Satoru’s aura, no matter how all-encompassing are the residuals of someone like Satoru who has boundless cursed energy.

After all, the man might as well be lying to rile Megumi up. Satoru will only be able to find out the truth once he leaves the estate — preferably with Megumi. One thing refuses to release the grip on his mind: if Naobito tells the truth, Satoru’s last word to Suguru would be “Jerk”. Too ridiculous a karma to carry for the rest of your life. He should have been kinder to Suguru. He only wanted to protect a child from the kind of violence Megumi is facing right now. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you! Your family hurt Tsumiki!” Megumi shouts, running to the back of the room and hiding behind a stone column. Naobito grins, entertained. 

“What a fucking drag,” Satoru whispers under his breath. He doesn’t attempt getting close to Megumi this time, so he speaks loudly instead, for the boy to hear, “Do you know who this person is talking about? Geto wouldn’t let anyone hurt Tsumiki. He is strong” 

Megumi peeks out from behind the column and lifts a pair of moist hopeful eyes at him. “Where is Geto-san?” 

“He is with your sister at our school. Do you want to go there with me?” 

The boy was ready to take a step forward, until Naobito’s voice startled him again. ”The boy is damn right — he won’t go anywhere with you. We paid money for this technique.” He finishes the beer and lets the can fly down the stairs with a loud rattle. The resonance of every collision makes Megumi flinch. “Megumi-kun, do you know who this person hurt personally? Your father. This man killed your dad, little boy” 

Surprisingly, Megumi doesn’t react as viscerally to this truth. 

Satoru closes his eyes to stop the clocks for a second and repent. I have to switch to Gojo one more time. Forgive me, Suguru. Count this as my last words — just in case. 

He strides toward Megumi and grabs him by the collar harshly. “So you finally recalled what I am capable of!”

Satoru curves his middle finger inwards, covering it with his thumb and directs the manual sign at Megumi’s forehead. The boy stands bravely despite the threat. “Either you get your money back, let him go and your lineage stays alive one way or another, or I end him right here and you won’t have nothing. Who knows when one of you conceives a Ten Shadows user next time” 

Naobito stays collected. Satoru noticed how he instinctively wanted to raise a hand to protest, but stopped himself at the last second. 

Megumi whispers something to himself. Not a tear leaves his eyes. He squeezes them shut. 

Satoru delivers the shot, blinding everyone in the room. 

***

This is pure humiliation. He should have followed Satoru’s example and gotten stronger. Instead he indulged in drowning in a single tear, sleeping around the clock, skipping meals and visiting home. Suguru has been stagnating from the standpoint of sorcery for the whole year. Collecting spirits but refusing to apply them. 

Toji is sweeping the floor with him. The district is crumbling along with his bones.

Toji throws him inside some small building and Suguru’s back collides with a wooden rack. He hears glass falling upon him and on all sides, colorful liquids are pouring from the shattered bottles. Smelling ethanol, Suguru opens his eyes and realizes they are finding themselves in a liquor store. He opens his mouth to catch a trail of alcohol and spit it with blood in his mouth. Red wine is mixing with white wine on the tiles. 

His head clears up for a single moment to introduce a haunting idea. He twists away to dodge Toji’s next shove, sending the rack in his way to barricade the path. 

Satoru said that the Reverse Cursed Technique derives from a clash between two negative energies. And Suguru contains cursed spirits. I’ll die trying, he told Satoru when they were fighting over the phone. 

Moreover, Toji — the real one — supposed that in case Suguru dies, the curses might escape from his body. He accepts his death as a backup plan. At first the spirits might all haunt the curse user until Suguru is gone for good. 

Toji punches right through the furniture, reaching for Suguru again. 

Instead of running, he puts his palms together in a prayer. 

Nanako and Mimiko, Megumi and Tsumiki, forgive me for failing you. Megumi will have to work for god knows who, live with the horrors and violence and become damaged goods by the time he’s as old as me and my friends. 

Obviously, Toji doesn’t give him time. He is not a graceful historical warrior to allow Suguru naming his lineage before drawing the swords. He drags him around the room, the broken glass leaves scars all over his face and hands, shredding the fabric of his clothes. He doesn’t fight back. 

I’m sorry, mom and dad. You should have given me a brother or a sister for a change. They’d turn out better, no matter how they turned out to be. Thank you for the twins. Give them your best. 

Nanami will soon leave and if he dies before that, I would not be able to save him either way.  Shoko is better than us all, she will outlive everyone. 

Satoru… Live as you please. I believe you will grow into a good man no matter what. I’m sorry I couldn’t live just for you. 

I’ll find you again when we are ordinary people.

The next punch never comes. Toji‘s eye catches the promotional poster of the Tenjaku whiskey brand hanging above the counter near the entrance to the ruined store. Somehow it didn’t fall from the wall yet, spinning on a single nail.

“Wait. I didn’t notice we were in this district.” Toji grazes his jaw, deep in thought. “So the girl was my ex-wife’s daughter. What were you doing here, brat?” 

Suguru uses the interlude to summon Kuchisake-onna, whom he recaptured just a month ago. In the blink of an eye the spirit locks him and Toji in its native domain that looks like a boundless corridor with white light in the depths of every section. 

The spirit cracks open her many eyes on the white face obscured by long black locks. “Am I… pretty for you…” she screeches. 

Toji opens his mouth to respond, but Suguru beats him to it.  

“You are so beautiful today.” He approaches the spirit face to face and points at his own throat. “Right here.” He focuses his internal energy on the same area, concentrating on its flow. 

“What, running away already?” Toji asks, amused, taking a step back. He cannot interract with Suguru or the spirit because Suguru already took up the hit by speaking to the curse. He can’t do anything but stand and watch. 

“Tell me one thing, Fushiguro,” Suguru calls out. “Why did you abandon Megumi?” 

“How do you know I’m not a Zenin?” Toji clicks his tongue, looking to the side. “He never had a father, so no one abandoned him. I died long before the Six-eyes killed me” 

Commiseration slips into Suguru’s weak smile. I guess you too felt like you were nothing but a vessel for pointless power. 

He catches one of Kuchisake-onna’s scissor blades between his fingers and glides it over the skin of his throat, drawing first blood. “That’s my call. The boy won’t be a Zenin either, by the way. You can thank me in hell” 

As the stone cold scissors begin closing around his windpipe, Suguru hallucinates of the spirits inside him cheering at the prospect of long-forgotten freedom. He senses them flying in circles, shoving against the walls of his stomach. Is this what their human counterparts will feel too if he’s no more? Relief? 

The last thing Suguru sees is a transparent trail of liquid falling from Kuchisake-onna’s biggest eye as she is piercing him from all sides with her ghastly blades. 

So curses cry too, huh? God knows I cried plenty in this life. 

Chapter Text

Shoko knows the end of the world is coming. She once called Gojo a sacred insignia. Now he is about to become a symbol of death. The council announced that Geto was killed in action. 

A girl named Tsumiki came as the first messenger of the apocalypse. Geto’s cursed spirit escorted her inside the Tech school’s barrier. Nanami spotted her first and brought her to the infirmary. 

Geto mentioned that he was taking care of a pair of children. He really was out a lot lately, but Shoko didn’t pry into his business, assuming he was working doubletime to support Nanako and Mimiko. Tsumiki said he had been visiting them for weeks, going out of his way to help with the house, food and money. She added that he was gentle with them, like a family member. Nanami and Shoko were not surprised. 

Still, they weren’t ready for the next level of trivia. Tsumiki’s brother Megumi turned out to be the son of notorious Toji Zenin and was kidnapped. Geto found Tsumiki afterwards and sent her away once they saw Toji in the flesh standing in front of them. The sorcerer killer couldn’t possibly be alive and refuse the chance of crossing Gojo’s way during the one and half years since their final face off. “Geto-san said he was dead too and that man wasn’t him. But he looked and spoke just like him!” Tsumiki commented. 

Thanks to the girl, the assistant managers found the destroyed district in Saitama. Yaga was supervising in person. Shoko has never fathomed him participating in an investigation before. 

The canyon of destruction led them into what used to be a liquor store. Blood was pooling all over the floor, blending with rivers of sake, whiskey and wine — everything interspersed with broken glass. However, between the racks with items they only found one body, and it belonged to some unregistered curse user. 

Shoko might as well spare him the autopsy. One precise hit against the temple with a spiked bottle. It puzzled her: why would Geto demolish the whole neighborhood before one-shotting the guy in such a primitive fashion. 

As for the remnants of cursed energy on the corpse, Shoko has discovered something she couldn’t comprehend for the longest time. The curse user’s personal residuals remained until 01:34PM, followed by a brief intervention of different ones between 01:35PM and 01:37PM. The second kind of residuals turned out to be identical with the ones the curtain was enhanced with. Then all cursed energy left the body right until the moment of death, returning to the corpse at 03:08PM. Shoko deduced that the curse user’s accomplice had influenced him with a technique that dispersed his native cursed energy for a period of time. It was unclear why sucking it out of the body was necessary  for the enemy’s objective. 

Then it hit her. Toji Zenin. The accomplice was a medium. A bug in transformation technique. Poor guy got possessed by a man with Heavenly Restriction. Yaga’s crew caught the medium — Toji simply knocked the old woman out. Luckily for them — she survived and is about to be interrogated. 

“As for Geto, he supposedly killed the Toji Frankenstein and disappeared without a trace,” Shoko finishes recounting. 

“Don’t you think they jumped the gun, declaring Geto’s death? That’s weird,” Utahime wonders. When Shoko called her, she instructed her friend to speak far from Gojo’s ears. He is aware of the attack, but not of Geto’s status. Said it was his clan’s fault. 

“Yeah, if I was them, I’d settle on ‘curse user’ for the meantime. Where did the notion that he’s dead even come from? No body, no residuals. Does the council know something we don’t?”

“Well, there are no victims besides the curse users. He basically… did his job. Motherfuckers even raised a curtain” 

Utahime has never heard her cry. She must be overwhelmed. “Shoko, dear, stay focused. Nothing is clear yet” 

Shoko sobs into the phone. 

“Talk to me. I won’t judge”

“It’s fine. I’m sick and tired, that’s all.” She rushes to wipe the tears. “Tsumiki asks how her brother is doing”

“He’s shaken after this so-called family bonding. He asks about Tsumiki and Geto all the time. We say they’re both safe and sound.” Utahime hums and then smirk slips into her voice, “Oh, and he hates Gojo’s guts. I mean, I can relate” 

Shoko spots a figure climbing up the stairs in the distance where the tall granite gates signal the border of the barrier. She drops the phone on the ground. “What the hell…” she mutters, forgetting about the phone call. 

Geto is approaching the school building. His uniform is shredded and covered in blood from the edge of the collar to his tabi socks. His hair is sticking to all the wrong directions. 

Unable to tear her eyes away from him, Shoko leans and blindly picks up the phone. “Update. Tell Gojo that Geto is safe. Don’t say he is alive. Say safe,” she patters into the speaker above the newly broken screen. 

“Thank god,” Utahime sighs. “He is crashing and burning over here. Even the principal hides in his office for once and doesn’t preach discipline” 

“Talk to you later.” Shoko hangs up and runs, crossing two stairs at the time, in Geto’s direction.

He greets her with a radiant smile. His teeth are framed with blood, too. He did put up a fight. 

She examines his outlook and realizes that the bare skin showing through the holes in his clothes is almost pristine. The only evident scar is stretching across his throat. 

“Wait, you’re uninjured.” She pats Geto’s shoulders in disbelief. “Does this mean…”

“Yup!” He shows a peace sign. “Came back from the dead and brought souvenirs”

“Son of a bitch!” she cries out, startling Geto for a moment. Like Utahime isn’t used to her crying, he is most likely flabbergasted with an overly emotional Shoko. 

“Hey! You’ve seen my mother” 

“What happened?” she presses. 

Geto shrugs carelessly. His grin starts to get on Shoko’s nerves. “Double suicide. You can call Toji and I lovers from now on” 

“You are talking nonsense. Did you hit your head?” 

He breaks out walking toward the building, well aware that his next station is infirmary. “I’ll explain later. Does Satoru know about anything?” 

“Yaga shits his pants at the prospects of telling him so no, not yet.” She catches up. 

*** 

Geto’s playful demeanor vanished as soon as they settled at the infirmary. He remained eerily silent while Shoko was reconstructing the tissue on his throat until Tsumiki found the infirmary on her own, having run away from the assistant Shoko entrusted her to. They didn’t want to let her in for the fear of scaring her with the blood, but the girl refused to stay behind the doors. 

“Does it hurt, Geto-san?” Tsumiki asks with eyebrows drawn close in worry. She is sitting on Geto’s right knee as Shoko is working on the minuscule scars on his left side.

“Not at all. Shoko’s technique heals people. It’s nothing like the hospital,” he comforts the girl, nevertheless making her shift closer to his chest. 

Tsumiki’s presence helped Shoko in coaxing explanations from him. He only began talking coherently when Shoko persuaded him, saying she simply wanted to prove if her theories turned out to be true. “Scientific purposes, Geto. Humor the mad scientist,” she said. 

As she is finishing on the scar tissues on Geto’s left shoulder, Yaga enters the infirmary. He observes Geto, sitting on the top of the metal table along with Tsumiki. He follows the patches of dry blood on Geto’s bare chest that Shoko didn’t have time to wipe off. 

Shoko tears her palms from the skin and rushes to stand between Yaga and Geto, shielding the latter. She can’t afford the principal acting in the same way he did when announcing Gojo’s departure. Not in front of a suicidal person on her watch. Not in front of her friend.

“Yaga-sensei, all due respect, if you don’t choose words wisely right now, I will take Geto with me and quit for good. I’m going to be present throughout the whole conversation and for days to come. And of course, Gojo is going to find out about everything. If he asks, I’ll repeat everything you say verbatim. So, again, be careful” 

Yaga takes off his sunglasses — another miracle, as they haven’t seen his eyes for a long time. “Fair enough.” He rubs his eyelids, eyes getting used to the white laboratory light. “First, explain what happened exactly” 

She puts a palm on Geto’s arm when he opens his mouth to speak. “It’s fine, buddy.” She runs his hand over the shoulder blade as she speaks, “Geto tried to enable his Reverse Cursed Technique as the last resort to get advantage over a curse user possessed by Zenin Toji. He directed his own cursed spirit at himself, on the price of possible death.” She shrugs. “His plan worked. Moreover, when he woke up the curse user was dead. Geto came back to school on his own with his injuries healed. I only had to restore the skin tissue”

Yaga crosses his arms, holding the glasses by the rubber band. “The medium woke up. I am about to interrogate her,” he announces to Geto. “Have some rest, both of you”

“Thank you.” Geto hangs his head. 

Yaga bows slightly and extends both hands toward Tsumiki, opening his palms. “Fushiguro-chan, do you want to see some toys I made? They can move and speak. You can choose one for yourself,” he asks with uncharacteristic softness. 

Tsumiki hesitates, raising her head at Geto, asking for approval. “You can go. These toys are very interesting indeed!” He decides, patting her head. 

Yaga comes close, lifts Tsumiki from Geto’s lap and plants her on his shoulders. They leave the room, chatting about the ‘toys’. 

Shoko exhales, satisfied with the weightless interaction. “Let us finish the job first.” She turns around to face Geto. “Actually, you healed yourself really well. I’m impressed,” she says, reaching to trace the skin that is left to be worked on. 

Geto nods obediently, eyes glued to the floor. “Erase them all, please,” he requests, frustrated. “I don’t want Satoru to see any scars”

She shrugs. Shoko has a hard time understanding why Geto always applies one and the same tactic to sharing serious problems with his closest friend — not sharing. Doesn’t his gut tell him that even if he did something terrible, Gojo would never hold it against him? Neither would he mock his weakness, because Geto’s credibility in Gojo’s eyes is unshakable. 

Shoko gasps, then, catching Geto’s attention. His arm tenses under her hands. Maybe this is what stops him — he knows Gojo is ready to forgive anything. Geto doesn’t believe he can rely on him for moral guidance or expect acts of common sense when it comes to himself. This is going to be a handful down the line. A ticking bomb she should stay out of. 

“Geto.” Apologetic, he nods again but turns his face away from her gaze. 

Shoko smiles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I just want to say that I’m glad you’re still with us.” She massages the hair on his nape. 

He embraces her with one arm. “I’m glad I… failed. Or succeeded. No idea” 

Shoko squeezes his shoulders one more time and pulls away. She circles around the table toward the drawer under her desk. 

“Look what I bargained for.” She pulls out a six-pack of beer. Assistant managers stealthily retrieved some alcohol from the ruined liquor store and she stumbled upon the crew in the storage room while they were dividing the loot. She traded her silence for the beer. 

“Once we get you cleaned up, let’s go to my room, watch some stupid movies and chainsmoke for the rest of the day.” She grins, snapping her fingers. “Then we will be dealing with adult problems that, obviously, the adults forced upon us again” 

Geto anxiously scratches the blood off of his skin with nails. “Shoko, I…” 

She tilts her head to the side. “What? You want to do something else?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sounds great.” 

“Don’t be shy, come on! I saw you naked”

“I’m hungry as fuck.” He chuckles, surprised at himself. 

Shoko laughs out, pleased. “I’ll fix you something, big boy” 

*** 

They brought the TV from the lounge to Shoko’s room and plugged it in, putting the device on the floor in front of the bed. They connected it to Shoko’s DVD player and set off the collection of movies starring Jean Reno. Shoko likes Wasabi best and Geto prefers The Professional, ‘except the pedo motives’. 

“How are the little ones doing?” 

Geto adjusts the pillow. “Which pair of the two?” 

“You’re the craziest man I ever knew. Your daughters” 

Shoko hits the mark, eliciting a genuine smile from Geto. “Mimi and Nana are doing very well. They made friends at the elementary. Boys from my old dojo are protecting them.” He closes his eyes in amusement. “I think Mimiko has a crush on one of the brats”

”Ah, youth!” Shoko raises the can of beer. It’s her second. 

“Also mom bought them a cellphone to share, so they send me lovely messages”

Shoko turns to lie on her back, throwing her head overboard. “Like what?” 

“Mimiko ate too much strawberries or We hopped in the puddles in the garden after a heavy rain,” he mimics their voices. Shoko laughs. 

“I want to meet them so-o bad. I crave some girl time, so you need to lend me three of your little queens for a big sleepover.” She sits up and points her finger in his face. “But don’t get your panties in a twist if we end up trash talking the hell out of you and your insufferable bestie” 

Geto puts an arm under his head, sipping on the beer. “Ha, fair enough”

“How is he, by the way?” She makes a leap of faith. Geto didn’t mention Gojo for a long time, so she figured they had a fight. 

“I don’t know. We fought over Megumi”

Shoko shrugs. Cowards such a herself never change. She doesn’t want to engage in their conflicts. These two are bigger than the world. The intensity of their bond, too. “Well, either way you’ll make up.” At least Geto is her good friend too and she can support him. “I mean, man, you are fascinating. You just pull everyone in. Kids, our juniors, random people. You could lead armies with this mysterious charisma of yours. Never saw somebody so infatuated with another person as Gojo is with you. He is going to throw a tantrum when you find a girlfriend one day” 

Geto ignores the passage. “How are you, Shoko?” 

“I enrolled in a medicine program. Big girl medicine. The studies begin during our fourth year” 

He toasts, reaching to clink with her. “Good for you. Make us proud” 

Someone knocks. “It’s me, Ieiri-san,” Nanami’s voice follows. He waits before timidly entering the bedroom. He gapes at the sight of Geto stretched on the bed. “Wait, how are you alive?”

“Hi, Nanami,” he replies simply. 

He lingers in the doorway, glancing outside for a moment. Once he closes the door and steps into the room, he throws them a scowl. “Your smoke is all around the hall. Are you burning sacrificial fat? Tell me which gods to pray, I’ll chip in if they grant me a life far away from this shithole. In Malaysia or something”

“Nah, we're celebrating,” Shoko drawls. “The O.G. is back!” 

“Yaga-sensei gave us all a day off because of your death,” Nanami explains. “How did you make it?” 

Geto shrugs. “Reverse cursed technique. Killed myself and it healed me. Proved that I had so much darkness in me that colliding with another darkness introduces a spark”

”Woah, morbid,” she remarks. 

Nanami grazes his jaw. “So, technically, now you can repeat that every other week so that I could get extra time off” 

Geto and Shoko burst out laughing, spilling the beer on the sheets. “You bastard!” she exclaims. 

Nanami smiles faintly at a clumsy but fruitful attempt to lift the mood. “I want to watch... whatever is that you’re watching. And a beer, please.” He settles next to Suguru, squeezing his shoulder once before grabbing a can of Asahi from the floor. 

Chapter Text

Megumi doesn’t want to see another curse ever again. Geto-san was right — sorcery is dangerous. However, Megumi found out that it’s not the curses’ fault. The curses he saw by the swimming pool at his school were ugly, but they didn’t hurt people. And Geto-san’s curses were peaceful and well-behaved. Sorcery is scary because of sorcerers. To the scariest one he has seen so far Megumi owes his life, no matter how he wished he could save himself without this rude white-haired boy’s help. 

When two men in kimonos brought Megumi to a place in the suburbs that looked like a little village — so many old wooden houses, roads and gardens were there, all belonging to people who call themselves Zenin — first thing an old man named Naobito did was tell Megumi about his father. He didn’t want to listen to these stories. 

He doesn’t remember his dad’s face anymore, only the day Tsumiki and him woke up in the morning and didn’t find their parents in the kitchen. They put their clothes and Tsumiki’s mother’s many perfumes into the gray suitcase they used to keep in the biggest closet. Megumi liked to hide in this suitcase when they were playing hide-and-seek with Tsumiki. She believed that the parents decided to go on vacation, but they never came back, not after three weeks or four months or half a year. Megumi knew they would never come back when Geto-san came all of a sudden and started helping them. 

Naobito Zenin told Megumi that his father was a bad person because he couldn’t kill curses. And he couldn’t because he didn’t have cursed power, unlike Megumi. He wanted to argue that people aren’t always bad when they are useless, but decided to keep his mouth shut. He was afraid of Naobito and everyone in the Zenin village from the start, because you can’t trust people who steal kids.

Then he found out that they didn’t steal him. His dad sold him to Zenin people. They paid money to have him here. Or not him exactly… Megumi was feeling that they bought his dogs to kill curses for them. 

“If I give you all my pets, will you let me go home?” he asked when maids gave him a cup of bitter black coffee that he never tried before. Megumi thought it wasn’t a kids’ drink, but sipped on it anyway, because he was hungry and haven’t eaten ever since Zenin people not-stole him. Naobito titled his head in misunderstanding. “You said you bought me for big money because my pets are very strong. You can take my pets and use them. I like my dogs, but I want to go home, so you can give them to someone who wants to kill curses,” he explained. They were sitting on the floor in a dark tatami room, surrounded by golden vases and bonsai trees.

Naobito laughed at him, spitting out a transparent drink that smelled like a school nurse’s office. “You cannot release your shikigami. Don’t you want to exorcise cursed spirits, too? Isn’t it a great honor — inheriting the most splendid technique of your family?”

Megumi didn’t understand half the words Naobito was using. Geto-san never used difficult words to talk with him. He wanted Megumi to understand him. 

“You are not my family,” he answered, shifting away from the dampened floor. “Only my step-sister is” 

“Does she have a technique, too?” 

He shook his head. “No, she can’t see curses,” he said, cheering for Tsumiki in his head. At least Zenin people didn’t have to buy her. 

Naobito stood up. His knees were trembling from the medicine he was drinking. “Let me show you someone else who can’t, then”

He walked Megumi to a hidden pond with waterlilies, dug in the garden in between terraces of wooden houses. There, a teenage boy about as old as Geto-san was dragging a little girl by her short hair. He launched her head into the water and she tried to wriggle out of his grip. 

“She deserved it. This is what you do to useless people who can’t even see curses,” Naobito said with a content smile. 

“Did you do that to my dad?” Megumi asked to distract the old man. He called his two dogs, asking them to attack the boy in his head. The bully let go of the girl’s hair and took a knife from his pocket to scare the dogs away, but Naobito didn’t let him, saying it was embarrassing for a sorcerer to carry a weapon. He walked up to the boy and took away his knife. 

Megumi ran to help the girl get up from the ground. “I don’t need your help, Ten Shadows user!” she screamed and slapped his hand before running into the house. 

“My name is Megumi!” he screamed back. Why is everyone so crazy about this ‘technique’? he wondered. That’s when Megumi understood that he hated this place. 

He stomped his foot, kicking the sand around the pond. “Zenin-san, tell me how much money you paid and Geto-san will return it. I don’t want to live with you” 

“Hm, Geto… Where have I heard this name.” Naobito hums, holding the bully by his collar. “Does he have ten million yen?” 

Megumi bit his lips, lost. It sounded like too much money to have. 

“That’s what I thought.” Naobito sighs and sits down on the wooden porch. The bully stays by his side. He doesn’t speak. Maybe he only speaks when Zenin people let him. “Listen, buddy-boy. You don’t have a choice. Get over it” 

“No! You can’t make me,” Megumi says angrily. 

“Can’t we?” the bully speaks finally. 

That’s how Megumi got thrown into a room with curses. At first the teenage boy who was bullying a girl was sitting on the stairs in the room, watching curses chase Megumi. His dogs were biting their heads off when green and yellow monsters with many eyes and hands and long tongues were getting too close. Running around the room, Megumi found a pit in the corner with bare bricks sticking out. 

“Hey, brat, wanna know who dug this escape?” the bully spoke. “Your dad. Punched a hole and almost ran away when he was ten. What a show it was!” 

Megumi climbed on top of the white dog while the black one began digging the hole further.

“I used to despise him when I was a kid. Now I understand that this whole family still exists only because Toji-kun wanted you to become a part of it. He could end us all, but changed his mind. You should be grateful” 

Megumi unfolded the paper Naobito gave him and tried to read the instructions. He memorized the hand gestures that should help to call the big bird. But no matter how much he tried, it didn’t appear. “I don’t care about my dad! What’s good about killing your family?” Megumi screamed. “Save me from these!” 

“You are not in trouble to be saved. It’s important to train,” he said carelessly and stood up. “Do your fucking best, Zenin Megumi” 

He left Megumi alone. Until the scary white-haired boy opened the doors. 

He told he came to save him, but Megumi didn’t feel that he was kind. He was simply annoyed. He spoke to Naobito like he didn’t care about anything that happens in Zenin village. Megumi only found out that this Gojo person is on the good side when he mentioned Geto-san. It was then when Gojo’s eyes turned sad and pitiful. But then he pointed his attack at Megumi. He whispered apologies to Tsumiki and squeezed his eyes.

When Megumi opens them he sees a room with a bed and a closet next to wooden walls. The sound of bells make Megumi turn to the window. The view outside doesn’t look like a part of Zenin village. He sees a field surrounded by low stone statues. Some dark-haired woman dressed in red and white traditional clothes is dancing on the field. The golden bells are wrapped around her wrists, and they are making a crispy sound that makes Megumi’s heart hum pleasantly for some reason. 

“We are in a sorcery school, kid,” Gojo startles Megumi and he turns away from the window. “Not mine, but we’ll come back to Tokyo very soon. Let me just gather my stuff” 

“We aren’t in Tokyo?” 

“No, Kyoto,” he says. He takes a backpack from under the bed. “Didn’t you notice how long it has taken for the Zenin agents to bring you here?” 

Megumi shrugs. “We were flying on a little plane. It was fast” 

“Wow!” Gojo whistles. “I’m jealous now. Never tried private jets” 

Megumi wants to punch him. How can he envy what the Zenin people did? 

“What do you need your sunglasses for?”

Gojo smiles and takes his black glasses off. “My eyes are too cool. They see everything. Glasses help my brain relax.” He gives the sunglasses to Megumi. “Try them. You won’t see a thing”

It turns out to be true. “I’m borrowing them.” He lowers the glasses but keeps them on his nose. Gojo reaches to take them back but Megumi jumps away. “Hey!” 

He sits down on the bed and crosses his arms. “I don’t want to see your face. Or anything, really, until you bring me to Tsumiki and Geto-san” 

Gojo gives up and begins pacing around the room — Megumi only hears his steps as he lies on the bed. His stomach rumbles suddenly. 

“Oh fuck, they didn’t even feed you their luxurious food?”

Megumi shakes his head, turning away from Gojo’s voice to lie on his side. He doesn’t know what ‘lagjurius’ means. “Don’t pretend you care,” he grumbles. 

“I do, though. Why would I save you if I didn’t?” Gojo argues. 

“I don’t know. To show off your purple killing beam? That’s what you tried to kill me for” 

“I’m sorry, okay? It was an act. I needed to drive my point home. They won’t touch you anymore this way.” He doesn’t turn around. Gojo sighs loudly. Megumi hears a clack of metal and then the wind enters the room, bringing the sound of shaking leaves. The bells grow louder. “Utahime-e-e!” Gojo screams out of the open window. The bells stop. He called for the dancing woman, Megumi understands. 

“The hell do you need,” she shouts back. Perhaps, everyone hates Gojo. Megumi is not surprised. He blindly searches for a pillow and wraps his arms and legs around it. He misses Geto-san right now. He is kind, unlike this boy. He helps  Megumi with kanji homework, cooks tasty meals and gives Tsumiki hugs. His jokes are funny, too. 

“Do you have some leftovers? I only have sweets and they won’t do” 

“And what do I get in turn?” 

“Some gratitude for Utahime-senpai’s boundless generosity?” 

“I don’t need that shit from you of all people,” Utahime answers. Her bells shake from time to time. “Choke on your sweets”

“I don’t need the food for me. Come here, take a look,” Gojo says finally. 

Soon Megumi hears a pair of heels stepping on the wooden floor. “Who’s that kid?” Utahime asks. 

“Toji’s son” 

“My name is Megumi!” 

Utahime gasps. “The Toji?” Her heels begin drumming in a fast rhythm. 

“I tried to tell you, but you said that you didn’t wanna hear my complaints”

“I didn’t want to hear you whining about Geto. How wrong he was and all” 

“Suguru was taking care of him and his sister, but then the Zenins stole him right from his home. Suguru called me and asked to set him free which I did”

“And where exactly was Geto wrong?” 

“He wasn’t, okay?” Gojo says too loudly. “I admit, Suguru was right. I was a selfish prick” 

“Geto-san is always right,” Megumi mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow. Utahime chuckles. She comes close to the bed. 

“Let me cook something for you, Megumi-kun. Is there some meal you really like?” 

“I like things with ginger,” he answers.

After the meal he couldn’t help falling asleep. Gojo let him keep the sunglasses on the whole time, even as was sleeping. When Megumi woke up and took off the glasses, he was in a different place again. 

He is lying on a bench at the edge of an outdoor running track with Gojo’s backpack for a pillow. Someone covered him with their big hoodie and let him nap under the warmth of the sun. 

He sees Geto-san then and understands that he is finally in Tokyo, even if the running track surrounded by forests looks like suburbs. Geto-san and Gojo are sitting crosslegged on the red running tracks. They are facing each other, talking about something in hushed voices. Gojo in front of him now looks like a whole different person. As he talks, his eyes are glued to Geto-san’s face, sad and guilty. When Geto-san says something back, Gojo takes his hand and holds it close to his heart. Geto-san hangs his head, frowning deeply. 

Megumi sits up, stretches and walk closer to them, startling both. “Thank god! It’s so good to see you, Megumi.” Geto-san smiles softly. He surely was worried. Geto-san is always worried.
“Welcome to Tokyo!” Gojo greets him. He doesn’t let go of Geto-san’s hand. For some reason, it annoys Megumi. 

“You know him?” Megumi asks, pointing at Gojo. 

“He is my best friend. Why?”

“He wanted to kill me,” Megumi reveals. 

“Fuck!” Gojo screams out. “It was an act! I told you, Megumi. Why would you say that now,” he argues and throws his arms up, finally leaving Geto-san’s hand be. 

He glances between them over and over. “What is that supposed to mean, Satoru?” 

“Alright! I blasted Purple at him, protecting him with Infinity at the same time. And then I teleported us” 

“You must have scared him to death…”

“I know, I know” 

“Let’s bring you to Tsumiki, buddy,” Geto decides and puts his arm on the floor to stand up. He gives a hand for Megumi to take. Gojo gets up too and grips Geto-san’s shoulder, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Rest your eyes,” Geto-san says to his friend. “I’ll meet you in the dorms”

“I’m going to the dorms, too!” He takes his backpack, throws the hoodie to Geto-san and follows them, never leaving Geto-san’s side. 

“Satoru!” some big old man begs for Gojo’s attention when they find a big house with wide windows. Megumi has never met so many new people at once before. Now he has to memorize their names. He doesn’t even remember all his classmates’s names. 

“Don’t,” Gojo raises a hand in warning. “Give me a couple of hours to cool off, else I’ll punch you” 

He leaves Geto-san and Megumi standing next to the big man. They hear him slam the door of his room.

Geto-san hits the man’s shoulder. “Well, didn’t go all that bad”

“Why are you friends with him?” Megumi asks as they walk through the corridor. 

Geto-san blushes. “I don’t know. He makes me smile” 

They find Tsumiki reading a book on the bed in Geto-san’s room. Her face glows when she spots Megumi. “My darling!” She rushes to stand up. As soon as Tsumiki’s arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, Megumi can’t hold back the tears anymore.

Geto-san kneels in front of them. “Megumi, I’m so sorry for letting that happen. I promise to protect you more from now on”

Megumi shakes his head and wipes the tears. Nothing is his fault. “My dad sold me to these people” 

“You know about it now?” 

“Yeah. I don’t like him or his family. They would buy the sun if it killed curses, and leave everyone in the dark” 

“Wow, that’s poetic.” Geto-san marvels. His face turns sad and thoughtful. “Your dad… He was a very unhappy man. He thought he would never be a good father for you because he couldn’t even take care of himself” 

“You are unhappy too. But you helped us and was always kind,” Tsumiki says. Megumi wanted to say the same, but some feeling that it were not the right words stopped him. 

Smile leaves Geto-san’s face for a single moment, for less than a second, but Megumi notices how it fell.

*** 

Satoru congratulated him on the Reverse Cursed Technique. He noticed Suguru using it during the run at the stadium. 

In the middle of the night Suguru and Satoru participate as witnesses of Ogami the curse user’s execution. Satoru asked Yaga to let him conduct the punishment  on his own, but Yaga didn’t allow him. The professional executioner came all the way from Sendai to do it.

They are standing in the back of the room littered with candles, leaning their backs on the wall covered with fluttering ancient hieroglyphics. The curse user is tied to a chair with knots of thick ritual rope. 

The executioner is also a Zenin. The scar on his forehead reminds Suguru of that female curse user he had met a while ago. His technique is not one of the heritable kind, but it revolves around the clan, mostly without acknowledgment since it is rather weak in itself. The executioner is capable of creating objects out of cursed energy. He uses the bullets he creates to conduct capital punishments. The ordinary bullets won’t do since a murder with no cursed energy involved might turn a sorcerer into a vengeful spirit. 

“I recognize this woman,” Satoru remarks, watching the executioner offer a blindfold to Ogami, which she declines. “She and her buddies tried to kill me when I was a kid” 

“So your family hired the person who used to threaten their golden child back in the day. Look how the tables turn”

Satoru had the courage to confess face-to-face that the attack on Suguru was his family’s fault. Satoru’s father admitted it. This is how he justified it, according to Satoru’s words, “We suspected that Geto was trying to make you join him in conspiracy against the headquarters”. Neither of them could fathom where this notion came from. So Yaga was lying when he denied that the council suspected them for plotting a revolt. 

The executioner signals Yaga that he is ready. Suguru steals Satoru’s sunglasses and puts them on, like Megumi did. Satoru protests, “Don’t you want to see her killed for certain after she hurt you?” Suguru shakes his head. The gunshot reminds him of the moment Riko died. 

“If I asked you to finish off all the big shots from the three clans, would you?” Suguru asks without cue. He ceases to whisper, leaning close to Satoru’s ear so as not to let Yaga hear. The teacher is standing behind the executioner as he is pointing the gun. 

“Yes,” Satoru answers without hesitation. 

The delivered shot makes Suguru flinch. Suguru takes off the glasses. Ogami’s body goes limp under his gaze. “Even your clan?”

Suguru knows the answer prematurely when he examines the way Satoru’s eyes vehemently follow the trail of blood spilling from the center of her forehead. He must be imagining some of his relatives in Ogami’s place right now. “Yes” 

“Wrong answer,” anger slips into his voice. 

Satoru shrugs. “Then don’t ask me to,” he counters carelessly. 

The executioner leaves the corpse for assistants to take away to the morgue. The final destination is the local crematorium. 

Yaga approaches them. He twists the zipper on his collar when they lift their eyes at him. “I want to apologize. It took me too much time to realize I needed to protect my students above all. Sorry for not being there for you after the Star Plasma Vessel incident.” He sighs. “And sorry for sending you to Kyoto, Satoru. I do regret it” 

Satoru shows a peace sign, grinning. “You got it, old man. It’s kind of lame, though, that Suguru had to get in trouble  for you to come to your senses”  

Suguru smiles faintly. “Did Shoko curse the hell out of you when you told her the same?” 

“Oh boy, did she!” He laughs.

The execution room is buried deep underneath the campus, under the section where they store the cursed artifacts. 

“Your room is occupied. Sleep over,” Satoru offers as they are climbing up the spiral of granite stairs. Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping in Suguru’s room, tragically exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the past two days. They fell asleep holding hands tightly. Yaga’s first gesture of benevolence was letting the siblings stay on the school grounds as long as Suguru needs until he figures out how to support them. The council still hasn’t decided if Megumi would have to become a subject of the school’s jurisdiction, but Yaga promised Suguru that he will do his best to let the boy grow up like a normal person before deciding if he wants to be a sorcerer. 

Suguru looks away, eyeing the lamps hanging on the brick walls. A stray moth is flying in haste around one, colliding with the glass every other moment.  “I can skip a night. They’ll prepare a room for the siblings in the morning” 

“You should get some rest. Let’s take a shower and go to bed,” he insists. 

They separate in the dormitory hallway to meet again inside the changing rooms and fulfill the routine together. 

“That thing you did with purple. That was a supreme technical trick,” Suguru speaks from behind the partition in the shower stall next to the one Satoru is using. 

“I know right?” he calls back. “How did you obtain the reverse?” 

“Figured it out during the fight,” he lies. 

Satoru’s face appears from behind the partition. “Borrow me your pricey shampoo for pretty people, will you?” 

“So you still use that 3-in-1 poison. Come here,” Suguru offers. As he washes off the rest of soap from his own hair another pair of hands thread into it. He leans into the touch as Satoru’s fingers caress his scalp.

Satoru bows his head to let Suguru massage the shampoo into his hair. He seems to have grown even taller. His hair straightens and turns grey when it is wet. Suguru hasn’t seen it in this state for a long time, because the technique didn’t let the rain in. Satoru squeezes his eyes tight like a child who hates bathing. 

Once he blinks his eyes open, he takes in Suguru’s body. “Did you lose weight again? You’re even thinner.” He squeezes his waist to prove that he could almost enclose it with his fingers. 

Mentally, Suguru pops a vein. He knows, in his heart of hearts he knows that Satoru is simply showing that he cares. He doesn’t want to be cared for now. He wishes he could forget about himself — his body and his primitive needs — and dedicate his all to those he saved. Especially to Megumi, who saw his share of violence before Suguru could shield him from it. The kids said he was unhappy. How could he be anything else when clans exist and deliberately leave bruises on everything they are claiming, always without permission? 

He cups Satoru’s cheeks and kisses him, hard, biting his lower lip. “Does it make me unattractive for you?” he asks, shifting from his mouth to trail his lips over Satoru’s jaw and ear, moving away the damp strands to access the reddened skin. Goosebumps run over Satoru’s arms.

“I’m not even going to answer this,” he says and crowds Suguru against the partition, pressing his crotch to the small of Suguru’s back. 

As Satoru’s hands roam over his chest and kisses get scattered over his nape, Suguru barely even feels the impact of Satoru’s loving touch over the blood rushing to his ears. “Let’s do it right here, then. Take me,” he demands, turning his head sideways to shoot the most seductive smirk he could muster.  

He sees it in his face — how Satoru’s mind short circuits. Disoriented, he blinks, until Suguru arches his back, pressing closer. Digging his fingers into the muscles of Suguru’s chest and abdomen, Satoru asks tentatively, “Have you done this before?” 

“No. That’s where you’ll be my first time, if you wonder” 

He lays his cheek on Suguru’s shoulder. “We don’t have the—“

“Spit will do,” he interrupts, desperate. “Come on, put it in”

Satoru doesn’t know anything about sex. He won’t notice until he draws blood. Suguru could heal himself after that. 

Satoru takes a step back. 

He grabs Suguru by the shoulders and turns him around. He sizes up his body again. Sees that Suguru is not even aroused. Not at all. 

He runs his fingertips over Suguru’s arms with such tenderness as if he is fondling the flower petals. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. You are tired,” Satoru says, unsure and scared. 

Suguru palms his erection, smirking. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you want to have your way with me, Satoru?” He reaches to catch his chin in between his fingers and pull him down for another kiss, but Satoru doesn’t move an inch, frowning deeply.

Eyebrows drawn close to his clear and determined eyes, he puts an open palm on Suguru’s chest, urging him to keep his hands to himself and stay still, pressed to the plastic wall. “No. Stop. That’s not right”

Suguru refuses to yield just yet. “And how you’re going to take care of this?” He points at Satoru’s groin.  

“Easy. It will pass,” he retaliates, mad with the pettiness. He reaches to turn off the water. The air turns cold. “We are going to my room now and have some rest. Got it?” 

Suguru’s deceiving attitude crumbles at last. Who was he fooling? Someone who breathes in when Suguru breathes out?

He nods, perplexed. From that moment everything Satoru can do instead of him, he does. It reminds him of the time he was helping Suguru take care of himself in August. When he was supporting him in the shower. That inglorious period. The past weeks did not feel any different from it, mood wise. 

Satoru wipes Suguru’s body with a towel and leaves it on his head to let it soak up the excessive water from his hair. He wraps his own around his lower body and leads them to the changing room. Once they both put the underwear and sweatpants on — facing away from each other in total silence — Satoru grabs the low stool from the corner and sets it next to the wall where the socket and the hairdryer connected to it finds itself. He gestures for Suguru to sit down. 

He can’t handle the silence anymore. “You mentioned your dad. What are your parents like? You only told me about your favorite uncle and kind nannies” 

“My dad is really old. And my mom was really young,” Satoru replies, raising his voice to be heard through the noise of the hairdryer. 

“Was? I’m sorry” 

“No, it’s okay. She was a Six-Eyes owner” 

Suguru wraps both hands around himself. “Someone didn’t like it, either?” 

“Only one person at a time can have them. So she died in childbirth. Usually it takes some time for a new owner to appear, but she sort of passed me the reins immediately. Her last breath was my first breath,” he explains, alternating between brushing Suguru’s hair and lifting the locks to dry them. He doesn’t seem affected by the story, or he hides it well. “I saw her pictures. She was sad in all of them because they didn’t let her go out in the city much for some reason. She wasn’t an albino, by the way. Neither is my dad. The shape of her eyes was similar to yours. She had very small maroon lips. Oh, and an enormous forehead” 

“You too have quite a forehead.” Suguru earns a flick to his own. “Do you have her nose? I like your nose” 

Satoru smiles at last. “No, it’s my dad’s. I look more like him, though I wouldn’t call him all that handsome. He has huge bulging eyes! It always seems like his irises are following you. And his body has such a weird shape, he’s two meters tall and, like—“

A loud sob interrupts him then. Tears are welling on Suguru’s lower eyelids. He fails to hold them back. 

Satoru lets him silently cry into his hands, without prying about the reason. After all, it’s not a secret that Suguru has several. Satoru lets the rest of his hair dry on their own and gathers Suguru into his arms once he starts passing out from exhaustion. Carrying Suguru into his room, he never stops kissing the top of his head as if the touch could connect him to the thoughts inside of it.

Suguru clings to his neck, smelling his own shampoo all around. Satoru is brilliant, cheerful and passionate. He is Suguru’s first love — and will forever be an imprint of colossal significance. Suguru doesn’t know where must he run to get far enough to break the red thread; how deep must he bury his own heart so that it wouldn’t crawl back to the surface and search for Satoru’s.  

“We are alive and safe, the children are safe too,” Satoru whispers while laying Suguru onto the bed. “You did well. You did so well.” He wraps him in a blanket, leaving no fabric for his own warmth. “Even Yaga is on our side now. Nothing bad is going to happen anymore.” Satoru embraces Suguru hidden inside the blanket and lets them drift to sleep. 

*** 

That night Satoru had a strange dream. Everything seemed so real: the school, the uniforms, the missions and the breaks he spent with Suguru. But every time Satoru touched him, even accidentally, he was leaving animalistic claw marks that bled and bled without remorse. In the dream he promised to never touch Suguru again. He was jealous of every person who could pat Suguru’s back in order to express camaraderie or friendly affection. On the moment when Suguru proposed wearing thick green gloves as a compromise, Satoru wakes up to the sound of his voice. He finds that the blanket is tucked neatly up to his chin. Suguru is talking to someone over the phone, “Suda-san, do you know where I might find Kaori?” 

Satoru doesn’t move a limb. It’s not good to eavesdrop but maybe the phone call will convey something about Suguru’s peculiar behavior in the showers. 

“Oh, that’s awful. What happened?” 

Satoru barely knew what to do last night when Suguru was so out of it. He was terrified. 

“Seriously? Who could mutilate her like this?”

He wonders who Suguru is talking to so early in the morning. Does Suguru have some urgent request to ask for? Did he find someone else in whom he can confide? 

“Okay, I’ll hit you up just in case. No, I’m still not interested, Suda-san.” Suguru hangs up and sighs. 

Satoru throws the blanket away. “Who was it?” he asks, startling him.

Suguru doesn’t turn to face him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just a new acquaintance. A freelance sorcerer.” He shrugs.   

Satoru sits up. His voice betrays him three times before he pronounces, “Are you seeing this person?” His heart beats in his throat in bitter anticipation. “Did you meet them while I was away?” 

Suguru looks uncertain. It takes him time to reply. Satoru doesn’t know what to think of it. “I’m not seeing anyone,” he denies at last. “No point in being jealous. It’s not like anyone would be eager to date the likes of me”  

Satoru knows he’s crossing the dangerous territory, but he can’t help saying, “I would” 

“Why don’t you meet someone similar then?” 

He climbs through the expanse of the bed and puts his hands on Suguru’s nude back. There is a scar on his left shoulder blade. Satoru doesn’t remember him having such a scar. Maybe he got it from that fight with god knows who that no one talks about — especially Suguru. He kisses the scar tissue over and over. Suguru flinches at every touch. Satoru presses his cheek against the smooth skin. Desire is pooling below his stomach just from its natural smell, but he doesn’t plan on acting in its favor.

He still remembers that awful expression Suguru used. Satoru doesn’t want to have his way with him, he wants to make love to Suguru. While he wanted Satoru to hurt him last night. He feels nauseous, recalling the moment when he figured this intent out.

The truth is, he imagined they would do it the other way around. Daydreamed about it, sick with yearning for proximity with Suguru. He tried touching himself there, in between his legs, picturing Suguru hovering above him, their bodies sewn together. Even read it up in the internet at some Kyoto local library’s computer, so he knows you can’t just push into another person without foreplay unless you want to hurt them badly. Suguru is supposed to know that, too. He always knows everything about other people’s comfort. 

“There’s no one like you. In Kyoto everyone treated me like a nuisance in high demand. Here everyone but you does the same”  

…which Satoru had never minded before. Yet suddenly it began upsetting him. He even tried to get along with Utahime to feel better, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it. That’s why he snapped at Suguru one evening. He didn’t mean the words he said. He meant “Thank you”, but said that he hated Suguru. He was mortally overwhelmed with the distance, with the way he was left alone with prickly thoughts that were running a marathon in his head even since they left the countryside. This is what Suguru must have been feeling all the time during the year they spent apart. Satoru couldn’t even handle a month of it without saying all the wrong things, without making his anguish ricochet. 

“You are not a nuisance, Satoru. People need you” 

Do you? He should have asked back. Everything started to distort ever since that morning. 

Suguru spends all his free time with Megumi, following his every step. Satoru doesn’t know who was more traumatized in the end — Suguru with the notion or Megumi with the actual event. Tsumiki started going to a new school, but with her brother they decided to wait. Shoko and Nanami supported the decision. They are babysitting him too in between work hours. Satoru would offer his help too, but Megumi still cannot stomach his presence. He avoids him at all costs, favoring infirmary over abruptly meeting him at the campus.

Satoru feels like everyone is avoiding him as of late. 

What’s more, Suguru works more than all of them combined. He is more eager to pick up assignments now that he mastered the Reverse Cursed Technique. It helps him deal with the inconvenience of curse consumption and he is excited about gathering cursed spirits for his artillery. He said he has two thousand and ten right now.

Yesterday he showed Satoru a first grade that locks you in its domain and provokes auditory hallucinations with ghastly voices that appear out of nowhere. They tested if it has any game against Infinite Void. It worked the same as Simple Territory but crumbled under the pressure in a few minutes. Suguru said that the effect was delirious — he could both hear the voices and feel the saturated information from Satoru’s domain pouring into his brain. They decided that if one day they fight together against some enemy, they’ll cast the two domains at the same time and drive the adversary insane. 

This is the only occasion when Satoru and Suguru have been hanging out lately — during technical training, or on the field to spar until they both feel like throwing up, or at the stadium to maintain physical shape. They both are able to regenerate now, so once they start, they are training relentlessly. 

Satoru is catching his breath after another match of close combat. Suguru is hanging from the pull-up bar upside down. He lights a cigarette which pack mysteriously didn’t fall down from his pocket. If it did, Satoru would snatch it immediately. Throw it away into the woods. 

“It’s your third in the last five minutes,” Satoru remarks. 

Suguru closes the lid of his metal lighter and drops it on the grass. “Whatever. I can heal myself.”

“It’s not a one-way ticket to self-destruction” 

Suguru rolls his eyes and flips to land on the ground. “The pot calling the kettle black. Another round?” 

“Fuck no.” Satoru stretches his limbs, leaning from side to side. He has just finished healing the bruises. “Your uppercut is nasty” 

Everything seems fine on the surface. They’re spending time together, teasing each other, talking about work. But Satoru feels that something crucial has escaped from his relationship with Suguru. He is withdrawn and rigid, as if spending time with Satoru is a task or an obligation. A charity in honor of their long friendship.  

Satoru doesn’t want to fight, even as an exercise. He’s sick of only being touched by Suguru’s fist as he aims for his weak points. It’s like he is trying to prove that all they have in common is their pain. Satoru wants to hold and kiss him, sleep in one bed, eat lunch together and listen to Suguru talk about the books he read recently. 

“Can I meet you after six in Roppongi? Let’s go out,” he suggests. He reaches to trace his fingers over Suguru’s hair. He let it loose once his bun was ruined after sparring. Satoru likes it best when it’s loose. “You look so good today” 

“And you are blind.” Suguru tilts his head away and leans to take his watch from the ground. “Class in twenty. Yaga’s going to instruct us on the missions. I’ve got to give him credit — he began caring about these things. Even Nanami is content” 

His shadow escapes from Satoru’s vision. He raises his head, watching the clouds pass by. He wants to make it right. Suguru is the only person he truly loves in this life. He can’t afford to stay passive now. If he finally gets along with Megumi, will Suguru forgive him? 

He finds the boy in the yard in front of the school building. “Hey kid”

Megumi rushes to summon Nue, but doesn’t manage to. Satoru throws his hands up in surrender. “Yo, I’m not trying to pick fights. I just want to hang out with you” 

Megumi sends a scowl his way. “Why”

“Because Suguru cares about you a lot. He wants to be your guardian now that you’re free from your daddy’s clan” 

“Geto-san is already my guardian,” he says, unconvinced. “He helps us. But what does it have to do with you?” 

Satoru crouches in front of the boy, reaching to pat his shoulder but Megumi jumps away. “Suguru is very dear to me. So if he cares about you, I do too” 

“Can’t you think for yourself? You’re like a kid, too. Geto-san has five kids”

“Wow, what a temper!” Satoru stands up. He was about to walk away to attend the class, but he saw that Megumi didn’t cease to try completing the catalytic seal for his shikigami.

“You’re doing it wrong. I’ll show you,” he calls out. 

“Don’t touch me!” Megumi exclaims. 

“That I can do.” He turns on the Infinity and corrects Megumi’s gestures without directly touching his hands. “Here. Summon it”

Appearing from the shadows in the ground, the red bird with an exposed skull flies to the sky. Megumi’s eyes follow its haphazard route. “I wonder how high he can fly”

Satoru grins, snapping his fingers. “Wanna find out? I can fly too. I’ll support you” 

Megumi is clinging to Nue's claws as Satoru is floating underneath him, ready to catch him once the bird gets tired. The boy looks at the ground bravely, marveling at the scenery from such an inhuman distance. Satoru’s eyes pick up that Nue could reach about two hundred meters before her movements faltered and Megumi fell into his arms. 

As they were landing, Satoru noticed Suguru watching them from the ground. He and Shoko brought a bag with sport accessories from the store room. Megumi waves from the sky and they smile, waving back. Suguru goes back to the school building before they land. Shoko waits for Satoru to walk up and go to the classroom. Meeting his face, she grits her teeth and moves her flat palm against her throat right before he enters the class — You’re as well as dead. She doesn’t follow him into the room. 

In the classroom Suguru has a copybook open. He isn’t writing something about the missions, since Satoru only sees numbers scattered on the page. “What are you doing?” he asks, taking the usual seat next to Suguru, on the desk closest to the door. 

“Counting money,” he mumbles, his eyes glued to the page. He is drumming the pen against the surface of the desk. 

“Woah, that’s very Mei-san” 

“Nah, I’m saving it. For the kids”

Satoru gets excited. He leans to the side to peek at the numbers. “Oh, I must join! Let’s make a shared account or something. Can we do that before we’re adults?” 

Suguru turns to face him. “No, you can’t,” he says somberly. 

“Hm, why?” Satoru bends an arm at the elbow and leans his chin on a palm. 

“I’m only saving my own money. I’ll grow the kids on my own” 

“That’s way too hard,” he drawls. “I’d say impossible with how busy you are”

Suguru peers at him then. “You…” 

“I mean, why do it on your own when I can help? It’s easier this way” 

Suguru remains silent for minutes. He grasps the piece of paper and tears the page away. “Satoru, we should stop this. Whatever is going on between us”

Satoru swallows. His lip trembles against his will. It takes everything in him to remain looking right at Suguru. He needs to see it in his face that he means it. “No… Why?” 

“I am no match for you. I’ll keep my head low, do my job and raise children. You will become the clan leader, flaunt your power, get your future on a silver plate — whatever you were talking about. You can train others, too if you still want some kids for a carbon copy. Just do not involve Megumi” 

Satoru refuses to process whatever prospects Suguru was listing. The future he is talking about sounds like absolute nonsense to Satoru. He doesn’t even want to discuss it. He focuses on Megumi. “I was just trying to get along with him today!” 

Shoko finally appears in the classroom. She stays silent, lingering in the doorway. 

Suguru slaps a fist on the desk. His pen drops onto the floor from the impact. “Do you know what kids usually do?” He begins counting on his fingers. “They play outdoors, do sports, admire nature, read books, listen to the music. You could choose anything for bonding with him. And what did you choose?”

Satoru hides his head in his arms. The tears run on their own, dampening his sleeves. What a shame. “Sorcery,” his muffled voice replies, thin and quiet. 

“Right. I won’t let you force him into it”

His head shoots up. “Thanks for the vote of confidence! As if you are not involved in this shit,” he snaps, but then forces himself to lose the temper. “Believe me, I only wanted to please you” 

Suguru picks up the pen and turns away, tucking his legs under the desk. “I’m touched. Please me by staying away from this boy,” he asserts in a tone full of disappointment and opens another spread of his copybook. 

Satoru stands up and pushes the chair away. “And from you too, then?”

He refuses to answer.

Satoru storms off from the classroom, warping himself right when Yaga was entering the room. The man didn’t even have time to acknowledge his presence. Yet he was tiptoeing around him for days, so he can handle one more shot of misbehavior. He is at fault, too. He drove Satoru crazy, planting the seeds of this stupid idea to use Megumi. If he never sent Satoru away, Suguru and him wouldn’t fight all the time. 

Every time Satoru gets a chance to settle down, he pisses it away because he doesn’t get a single moment to breathe and plan the next step. Everything was pointless. Just like he was standing in the doorway in August, feeling like he was not welcome in Suguru’s room. They vowed to think of each other. Satoru called it a bandage. The bandage was torn away, but the wound is still there. 

“Shit.” He wipes the tears under his glasses, staining the lenses with damp fingertips. “When was the last time I made you smile, really?” 

He sits down under the shadow of an apple tree in the yard next to the gym building, watching Megumi and Tsumiki play with the baseball set Shoko and Suguru found in the back of the weapon storage. 

At some point Megumi sends the ball flying toward the tree under which Satoru is sitting. Stuck in the leaves, it travels between the branches and falls next to Satoru’s feet. Before he could throw it back to the children, Tsumiki runs up the hill to return the ball. She freezes on her steps. “Gojo-san, why are you crying?” 

“It’s okay, Tsumiki. Don’t mind me” 

“No, you shouldn’t be alone when you cry. I know how to soothe you” 

Satoru looks up at her. That’s why you love kids so much, he keeps thinking of Suguru. He cries even harder. “How?” 

“My mama was singing me a lullaby when I was crying”

Tsumiki drops the baseball bat on the ground and it rolls down the hill. “Odoma bon-giri bon-giri,” she sings, waving her arms in a humble dance, swaying from side to side. 

As soon as O-Bon comes,  I will leave for my hometown. The sooner O-Bon comes, the sooner I’ll go home. 

“Odoma kanjin-kanjin”

I am from a poor family. They are from the rich families. They wear good sashes, wear good dresses.

Itsuki lullaby. It was the first poem he has ever read when he learned hiragana at three years old. He isn’t keen on reading now, but back in the day everyone praised Satoru for learning to read so early. He was fascinated with the song. He also reminisces how the nannies taught him to write his family name after the Itsuki Village. The characters look similar. “Ha-ha! I know this one. But my nanny was singing some other version.” He takes a deep breath. “Odoma iya iya. Naku ko no mori nya” 

I certainly hate taking care of a crying child. They hate me for keeping the child crying. 

“You sing so well, Gojo-san!” 

Flattered, he continues, his face flushed. “Nenne shita ko no. Kawaii sa, muzo sa”

The sleeping child's

Cuteness and Innocent look!

The crying child's ugly look. 

That’s not right. He is not ready to let go. Not until he leaves claw marks on their history. Satoru needs someone’s advice. None of his schoolmates would help him, they are not even supposed to know he loves his best friend, and Suguru — the only source of good faith and judgment — is off the hook. 

“I feel better.” Satoru puts on his best smile that he doesn’t mean. “Thank you, Tsumiki. Go back to Megumi. And be careful.” He gets up from the grass and searches for a certain contact. He collides with someone while stuck in his phone. 

“Gojo-kun! I’m so glad I stumbled upon you this time around,” the stranger says. “I’ve got a question: what is your ideal type of woman?” 

Chapter Text

Everything started with Yuki Tsukumo: Haibara eavesdropping, Shoko lamenting Suguru’s meltdown, Satoru promising not to fuck it up again. Should he be grateful to Tsukumo or guilty for letting Suguru down again — he doesn’t know. Yuki walks him to a dormitory basement he has never realized existed. Cracked gray paint on the walls, an unplugged TV set on the floor, a guitar with torn strings planted on one of the several wooden chairs, a big old chandelier looking too splendid to fit in this dusty backroom. Finally, a ping-pong table. Yuki wants to play ping-pong. 

“I came here to see Tengen,” Yuki says as she slaps the TV a few times, forcing it to work. It only shows a shaking multi-colored screen and spits disturbing noise from the lack of connection. “Or, they wanted to see me, to be more precise” 

Satoru picks up a blue ping-pong paddle and throws the white ball on top of it. He kicks the ball up in the air and maneuvers to catch and kick it again. “What are they like? Personality-wise”

“Do they even have one?” she answers cryptically. The television settles down on the channel that is broadcasting national news day and night. Yuki touches a spot on the screen with two fingertips where it displays an attractive young host in a black suit. “Does the fact that they don’t mind Riko Amanai’s pool of blood still decorating the floor tell you anything?” 

Satoru throws the ball against the ceiling three times in a row. The dust of whitewash scatters downwards. It should be snowing in Tokyo already. Instead, an unusually warm December has just begun. Satoru wonders if it is going to snow on his birthday. “Did they say anything about me?”

Yuki smirks. “Why would they”

He shrugs, catching the ball with his left hand. “Well, my eyes are connected to them and shit”

“So you’re aware of it.” Yuki grabs the second paddle and positions herself in the center of the opposite side of the table. “Serve” 

Satoru complies, starting the match. “Heard it once or twice from my family.” He returns the ball with ease, aiming for the corners. Yuki leans to her right and passes the ball back. 

“So Geto-kun didn’t kill any non-sorcerers like he wanted to when I last spoke to him. The boy is still knee-deep in the system. What changed his mind?” 

Satoru earns the first point. Yuki picks up the ball from under the table, serves and hits the flagging net. 

“He did. Suguru understood that it was pointless” 

She serves again. Satoru bends his hand close to his chest to kick the ball as it bounces toward him. 

“I’m so-o-o sad that Zenin Toji ended himself so fast. Geto should have captured him instead of that useless old psychic. I could have had a conversation with him! Persuade him to participate in my experiments at last”

Satoru misses. The ball rolls to the opposite side and Yuki serves again, but he doesn’t reciprocate. Frozen, he stands with the paddle in his raised hand. Suguru fought with Toji. “Fuck,” he can’t help uttering. Yuki doesn’t pay it any mind. She sends the ball flying and Satoru finally returns it.  

“Gojo-kun, let us make a deal. I give you a crumb of truth and you answer my question in turn,” she offers. Satoru notices that she enhanced the ball with cursed energy. It became heavier. 

“Fine, whatever.” He indulges in his technique too, using Infinity to stop the moving ball where his hand doesn’t reach. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yuki says firmly, examining the trajectory of the ball. “It’s not a sentiment or a word of comfort. Just a fact” 

Satoru wrinkles his nose. She double-crossed him. “I know that. It was my clan’s fault” 

Yuki hums, lost in thought. She misses Satoru’s attack and the ball bounces off the wall. 

He picks it up and holds it in his palm. “I like kind people. Soft-spoken and tender, but resilient nonetheless. And they should act like the main guy, you know,” Satoru distracts her. Yuki blinks incredulously until the dots connect. 

She grins and tilts her head curiously. “The main guy?” 

Smiling shakily, he turns away, scared that his answer was suspicious. “I mean… she should be like those main characters from manga. Strong, brave and generous”  

Yuki giggles like a little girl. “You’re such a simple human being, Gojo Satoru.” 

“Yuki-san, can I ask you—” 

“Nah, boy. Deal is over.” She drops the paddle and rubs her palms against one another. “It was a pleasure to meet you in person. Tell Geto-kun to take care” 

“I will,” he says, hoping with his whole heart that he could do that soon. 

Yuki Tsukumo leaves. They didn’t even finish an eleven-point match. Satoru slumps on the chair next to the broken guitar and stretches his legs. “What a bitch,” he mutters as he is flipping his phone to find the contact he wanted to reach before Yuki Tsukumo came to waste his time. The TV is showing a commercial of some christian emergency service, saying, “Dial a prayer”. Satoru unplugs it before hearing the price. 

First he hears rummaging on the line. “Satoru, hi! I’m a little busy.” She gasps then. “Wait. Scratch that. I could use your advice” 

Satoru stares at the phone screen in disbelief. “Sure, Geto-san. How can I help you?” 

“It seems to me, Nanako’s magical talent revealed itself”

He frowns. “Really? How did you figure it out?” He reaches out to pinch the untuned guitar strings with his free hand. 

He hears a heavy sigh. “Nanako just came from school in tears. She said that she was chasing a toad on her way home to take a picture of it, and once she captured it the poor thing exploded. She saw blood and intestines and ran to me, scared to death” 

Satoru realizes what happened immediately. “Did Nanako explain why she wanted to take this picture?” 

“You see, they are in such an age when they want to distinguish themselves. For twins it’s even more relevant, I guess. Nanako’s way of finding individuality is through the urge to be better than Mimiko at everything they are doing. But there’s a problem: apparently Mimiko is insanely gifted in arts. One of her drawings was especially praised by the teacher today. Nanako got mad and left school on her own. She saw a toad, thought it was ugly and wanted to make fun of Mimiko. You know, show the picture and tell that the toad looks like her — as a revenge” 

He can’t help wheezing. “Shit, sorry. Kids are just adorable” 

Sachiko’s voice loses a tad of anguish. “I know” 

“Nanako’s magic allows her to affect the things she captures with a camera. Usually it’s done with an intent, but she was upset at the time, and this little trouble occurred.” He takes a moment to ponder. “What about Mimiko? All quiet?” 

“They were both incredibly alert this week. Two days ago Mimiko broke into tears and convinced Tatsuki to go to that abandoned house and find some toy she left there. They found this dusty stuffed atrocity with buttons for eyes. She refuses to let it go. Does it matter?” 

“I guess this toy is some kind of, um…” Satoru scratches his head. “…voodoo doll? An instrument for magic. But I don’t know what exactly Mimiko is capable of. If I were in the vicinity, my eyes would examine the technique, but, alas.” If only someone could hear him using the respectful dialect right now. It is only reserved for this very family. 

“So Nanako is going to show off with the fact that she learned magic earlier than her sister, ha-ha! How can we help them? I’m not scared that they are going to hurt someone. I promised to accept and love them for who they are and I stand by my word” 

He has no idea. He feels like running to Suguru and passing him the phone. He would know what to say. Satoru shakes his head vehemently. “I think… First, you should just explain their techniques. Tell them that they won’t hurt anybody unless they are very angry. And, I’m not sure, but your husband could build a scarecrow or something to let them practice under your supervision. You won’t see the cursed energy, but the effects are very much visible. At least they will learn to control the technique.” He finishes with something Suguru would mention for certain, “It’s their choice — if they want to practice it further or not” 

“Thank you. I’ll keep you updated, buddy-boy” 

He gets up from the chair. “Geto-san, I actually wanted to ask for your advice too” 

“Sure, let me just get on the porch”

Satoru uses the pause to leave the basement. As he is walking outside, he hears the familiar click of a lighter. “I didn’t notice you were a smoker”

“I couldn’t stop ever since you told me about your childhood in the clan”

“Oh.” He did explain his background when they were looking at Suguru’s old pictures. He asked Sachiko to give away one photograph from the year 1995. As soon as Suguru and him came back to school, Satoru glued it together with his own and hid it between the pages of his favorite Shonen Jump volume. He has chosen a picture where Suguru was dressed in traditional attire, playing a supporting role in some school theater performance — just so they would harmonize as Satoru mostly used to wear yukatas back when he was a child. 

“Suguru is smoking a lot too, lately. He’s stressed all the time. You can’t even imagine how much he’s working. I wish he quit.”

“The job or smoking?” 

“Both, Geto-san. Both” 

Stepping outside he walks toward the gates, passing the school by. He raises head, searching for the window belonging to his usual classroom. No one is there. Apparently Suguru is already on his mission. Satoru teleports from there, not knowing where he would land. Any place will do, unless it isn’t the campus. 

“Tatsuki and I are just worried about you two. I don’t know what all the troubles are for.” She clicks her tongue. “But we can’t help the troubles, so we’re just smoking like fish and holding hands on the porch, sending you pointless prayers,” she adds and huffs a laugh. “So, what’s on your mind, Satoru?” 

He ends up warping to the nearby suburban neighborhood. A billboard with a hockey player on his way to score a point catches his eye.

Satoru has just changed into the winter uniform once he came back to Tokyo. He is sweating under the collar — from intimidation, for the most part. “I’m in love with your son,” he lets go finally, “And… I’m pretty sure he loves me back, but really-really wishes he didn’t” 

Throughout the conversation, Satoru counts the times he heard Sachiko’s lighter click.

She has smoked twelve cigarettes in a row. 

***

Suguru caves. He doesn’t even remember what he was doing in the past three days: mission blended into another mission. Megumi wants to go to school, but Nanami says he still gets a little twitchy at the sudden loud noises.

These evenings Suguru was smoking in his bed with the open window bringing chilly December wind. He was quenching the cigarettes against the skin of his inner wrist, regenerating it right after. This kind off pristine pain was exactly what he was planning to inflict on Satoru with his words and actions. Yet this farce could only go so far. They always operate on some twisted poetic justice. He cannot even hurt Satoru without hurting himself, neither can he find comfort in his own pain — even the physical kind — without it reaching Satoru. (He would raise hell if only he knew what Suguru was doing with the cigarette butts.) 

Ever since Suguru insulted him in the classroom, Satoru was in the wind. This afternoon Suguru was searching for him all around the campus, but met Yaga instead, who told him that Satoru is visiting his family today and will only come back in the evening, if at all. 

He went toward Satoru’s room at exactly 9PM and stood there for a long time, gathering courage. He knocks. In case he chickens out at the last second he can just tell he needs to grab something he left in Satoru’s room when he had slept over that last time.

No one answers. The room is silent behind the door. He sighs, a bit content with an opportunity to delay the conversation. 

“Hey,” he hears a soft voice to his right. Satoru is standing in front of the door to Suguru’s own room, apparently bracing himself for the same thing. Suguru strides toward him. “We need to talk,” he hurries to make a statement that wouldn’t let himself escape the inevitable. 

Satoru grabs his hand. They hurry outside, passing Nanami and the kids by on the way. Satoru waves to Tsumiki before pulling at Suguru’s hand and forcing them to run. 

Satoru only pauses when they end up on the alley by the hidden back gates. He trudges to hide in between the walls of two low buildings. Once Suguru follows him, sitting down on the ground across from Satoru, a row black crows perch on the edge of the roofing right above them. 

“For fuck’s sake, they’re annoying.” Satoru shoots the birds with a single wave of Red.

Their corpses fall next to them, one landing in between their feet. Suguru tucks his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around the knees. “I’ve been seeing them since we went to the countryside” 

Satoru picks up a dead crow by the wing and its corpse stretches in front of Suguru’s eyes. “Money makes the walls grow ears, I guess.” Satoru throws the dead bird away — much to Suguru’s relief. Watching blood drip from its feathers was putting weights on his stomach. “So it really matters if I like Megumi or not,” Satoru asks.

Suguru falters, unsure why anyone raises such a question at all. 

“Like, if I told you that I found money for Megumi just because you care, you wouldn’t accept it, right,” Satoru elaborates, “So it does matter what intentions I have, what my mind is”  

“Of course… I don’t understand what’s the alternative,” he hides his head in his hands, placing his chin on the right knee. “Aren’t we all doing things that we believe in, regardless of the outcome?” 

Satoru’s gaze is stuck to the side where the alley is lit by rare lamps. His eyes follow the paving blocks, counting every drop of animal blood on every cobblestone.

“Not in my book.” He shakes his head. “I was always using the cards I was dealt. Or following your judgment — with more resistance, of course, because you have never made me feel like I owe you. When shit went left with Megumi, I decided, ‘Fuck it. I was a moron. From now on I’ll just do what’s best for Suguru.’ But it wasn’t enough, right? You need a shoulder to lean on. And I was a goddamn leech who didn’t give two shits about anything but us two. There’s a whole life going all around us. And your life can’t be all about slapping my hand every time I’m up to some stupid shit,” Satoru stretches his legs on either side from Suguru in the narrow space. “You always think before doing something. Even back in September, before you almost went on a murder spree, how much time did it take for you ponder it? A whole fucking year. And I was so helpless when you needed a piece of mind” 

Suguru takes it as a cue to get it out of his system. Bracing himself for whatever this conversation was to bring, he still didn’t want to speak out of pocket. “It’s not like I gave you a single chance to help me either. I only let you in when I hit the rock bottom and I’m too desperate to dismiss you. I’ve been dragging this doubt in your loyalty like a dead weight no matter how many times you showed that you were always on my side” 

Satoru nods, encouraging him to carry on. 

”I was insecure about our bond for the longest time.” Suguru throws his arms sideways, conflicted. “It wasn’t even about the things that happened, whether with Megumi or with your clan. Anything could tip me off in its place because I just…” He meets Satoru’s eyes. He returns the gesture, sensing Suguru’s gaze glued to him. “I’m feeling so deprived of control, like my efforts have no value whatsoever. Like I simply do not fit into the mechanism.” He resists a whimper. “I lashed out on you because you do fit. I began seeing you as a living example of something I cannot deliver, ever — disregard for injustice. I’m childishly allergic to this reality: I don’t feel like ever cooperating with clans; I do not approve anything the council does; at this point I’m not fond of this job at all”  

In a moment of courage Suguru reaches toward Satoru and touches the fabric of his shirt with a fingertip, right where Satoru’s heart is. “But you and I are the same.”

Satoru doesn’t let him draw the hand away. He catches his palm and intertwines their fingers. “You act on it, because rejecting the rules of the game costs you too much. Turns out, I was not immune to the same mistake everyone in your life has made at some point — I lost sight of the difference between you and your range of titles.” He squeezes Satoru’s hand. “I wasn’t at peace with this part of you. For this I’m so sorry. It’s unforgivable” 

Satoru’s face sports the scar of a helplessly despondent smile. “You weren’t entirely wrong. I do act like the fucking egomaniac I was raised to be. If it wasn’t the case, you wouldn’t bend over backwards for three years just to make me feel like a normal person.” He caresses the back of Suguru palm with his free hand. “And I wouldn’t fall in love with you for seeing right through me” 

Suguru purses his lips. “You know the score. This… environment gets under your skin. Like you said, I am just as involved and complicit as the next guy. A heartfelt reunion and an interrupted vacation can’t fix shit. We can’t heal in a place that is just as sick as we are” 

Satoru lets go of his hand and leans on the wall to stand up. “Thank you for everything you gave me — your companionship, your advice, your moral guidance in the times I was irrational. But I’ve got to move on” 

Suguru nods, understanding where it is going. He stands up, refusing Satoru’s help. 

“I’m not finished, Suguru,” he stops him before Suguru could walk back to the alley. “I did get money for Megumi. There’s a graduation fund waiting for me. I’m going to finish school earlier — this spring. The boy won’t have any debts and live a normal life. I want him to have it better than me, to grow into a person who feels like their life belongs to them. I already discussed it with my folks and Yaga. That’s my first gesture — entirely mine” 

Suguru listens intently. 

“The second one is…” Satoru blushes for some incomprehensible reason. “I walked around the area and found this sports club. I signed up to join an amateur basketball team. They had tennis, fencing and other solo sports, but I figured it would be the best option. The team is made of non-sorcerers, university students mostly. I’m going to spend time with them and learn teamwork.” He shrugs. “I like basketball, after all”

Satoru takes both Suguru’s hands. “The third one is a plea,” his voice wavers. “Please, let me be your boyfriend. Or…” Satoru rolls his eyes, provoking a half-smile in Suguru. “This word sounds so immature. Partner?” Determination returns to his voice, “I want us to grow together and build our future, no matter how long either of us is going to stay a sorcerer” 

“Before I answer, I want to contribute something, too.” He bites on his lower lip. “It’s not much. But I want to tell you the truth” 

He tells everything. The suicidal trick, the veil, the fight with Toji. Satoru holds his hand through it all. The terror of finding out about Gojo clan’s doing. The fear for Megumi. The longing for Nanako and Mimiko. Satoru wraps his arms tightly around his neck. The lack of any care for his own well-being. The encounter with a trio of curse users. The urge to join them up until Kaori’s abrupt death from the hand of her male colleague, the one with the sword. Satoru trails his hand up and down Suguru’s shoulder blade. The one with the scar Shoko has apparently left on purpose. She does have the barest hint of a soft spot toward Satoru, after all. 

“That’s it?” Satoru asks when he falls silent. 

“Yes,” he breathes out. “And that’s my answer — yes” 

A kiss that follows is one of those semi-fictional kisses people who have never kissed talk about. A television version of a kiss that conveys finality. Suguru once read that the first account of people kissing was found in ancient Indian texts. They described the meaning of this kind of affection as ‘breathing each other’s souls in”. 

Satoru pulls away forcefully. “I’m taking you on a date. Right now. But we need to change. We’re not having our date in this crappy uniform. Let’s forget about school for tonight” 

They reenter the alley, carefully bypassing the dead crows. Suguru winds an arm around Satoru’s shoulder and whispers in his ear. “Do you want to choose an outfit for me? I’m yours now, after all.” Leaning close, he sees goosebumps speckle Satoru’s throat. 

Reaching behind Suguru, he tears his hairband away, pointedly dropping it on the ground. “I want your hair down — that’s a must” 

*** 

“What have I done to deserve such beauty dating me?” 

“Shut up. Oh look, she died” 

“Who?” 

“The love interest” 

“Suguru, am I a bad kisser? How are you even able to follow the plot” 

“You’re fine” 

“Just fine?” 

“A movie about our love story would never sell among teenage audiences. Your confession was more intense than that main guy’s wedding vows. You even bribed me with child support. How fucked up is that?”

”Tell me why I’m a ‘fine’ kisser! I want to improve my performance” 

“You’re good, okay? Didn’t want to feed your ego”

Clinging to each other’s shoulders, they turn toward the screen to see the credits rolling. 

“Another movie?” Satoru suggests. Suguru leaves a share of brief kisses on his lips before nodding enthusiastically. 

He jumps from the seat then. “I’ll get the tickets!”

As he waits for the cashier to print the tickets to the last movie of the night, Satoru is tracing his lips with his thumb. They are swollen and dry. His jaw hurts, too. An elderly woman behind the counter looks at him with disgust as she extends two tickets to a film called ‘Nobody knows’. “If I see you having sex with your girlfriend here, I’ll kick you out of this cinema and call the police,” she threatens. 

Satoru salutes to her and walks away. Is it the long hair? He didn’t make Suguru wear a skirt, after all — just picked his favorite knit beige sweater with red geometric patterns and a pair of black trousers with pleated seams. He wanted Suguru to feel comfortable. Is he so skinny that he got confused for a woman? Satoru has got to check on his eating patterns occasionally after they move in to a new home.  

Satoru should have read the premise before buying tickets for this film.

This time, the auditorium is completely empty thanks to the late hour. The action on the screen struck Suguru’s interest from the first minutes, and they moved to the front rows, following the story carefully, unlike the previous two movies most of which they had spent making out in the backseats. The movie presents itself as a story of a single mother struggling to provide for her four children. 

“Did Toji make another son? This boy’s face resembles Megumi’s so much.” Satoru points his finger once the first close shots of the main character named Akira appear. 

The mother and Akira move into a new apartment. They have to conceal the presence of the other three siblings from the neighbors. Only Akira is allowed to go outdoors — he goes to the grocery store and does other chores. His sister Kyoko can only go as far as the balcony to do laundry. 

“Mom, I want to go to school” 

“School is useless. If you don’t have a father, everyone is going to laugh at you” 

Suguru turns away from the screen. “He said a curious thing when we were fighting. Said that Megumi never had a father. What if I can’t be a father for him either? I’m seventeen and there’s not much I have or can give” 

Satoru extends his hands, letting Suguru lean on his chest, arms wrapped tightly around Satoru’s waist. “Unlike him, you’re there for the boy. I’m sure he cannot dream of more. The funny thing is, you shall give him much more. You always choose to give away everything you get your hands on like the sick altruist you are” 

Eventually, the mother ends up disappearing for several weeks. Akira has to beg for money from his mother’s ex-boyfriends. One of them denies relation to Akira’s younger sister, speaking about intricacies of unprotected sex without any regard for the boy’s age.  

“Mom must be working overtime,” the boy comforts his sister Kyoko. 

“I thought she left because I was mean to her” 

“No, that can’t be”

She never returns, no matter how hard Akira tries to get in touch with her through phone calls to her workplace — that she got fired from long ago —the mail address where the Christmas gifts came from. Running out of money, the children resolve to surviving on convenience store food. Akira’s friends abandon him because they are ashamed with the unpleasant smell in his apartment. Plastic bags full of trash are littering the tiny space. 

Suguru cracks when he sees them eat instant noodles for dinner. “I can’t watch this anymore” 

Satoru draws the crumbled tickets from the pocket of his jeans. “Are you happy, Kore-eda Hirokazu-sensei? You made my baby cry.” He angrily throws the tickets onto the floor. “Let’s go home” 

When they step out of the cinema, they see snow falling slowly all around the dark and desolate highway. Suguru marvels at the ornaments on the asphalt and the dry orange leaves falling along with the snow. 

“Suguru.” He reaches for his hands and warms both palms in between his. “My graduation fund also lists a house. It’s an old piece of shit, but it’s big, has a garden and a room for combat training. We’ll move all the kids by spring, the twins too. It’s going to be a place that belongs to us” 

Suguru connects their eyes, looking naively hopeful — no self consciousness in this usually guarded face whatsoever. “So we’re going to be a family?” 

Satoru chuckles, kissing his knuckles. “Already are.” 

Suguru falls silent then, expression unreadable. Yet then he huffs a laugh and gives Satoru the sweetest and most natural smile he has ever seen on his beautiful face. It reaches Suguru’s eyes, filling them with joy divested of any restraint and doubt. Unarmored, Satoru can’t help lifting him from the ground and spinning them around, both of them laughing. That’s the smile he wanted to see ever since August. And he made Suguru smile like this. He did. 

Chapter Text

When they move into a new home, the first thing Suguru wants to acquire is a vintage ornamental screen — just for the sake of it. He is standing behind one of such, with a plum tree painted on the stretched and framed silk. 

He peeks from behind the screen. Satoru is standing in the middle of the guest room, cradling a bouquet of flowers that Suguru sneaked into the Gojo estate. He arrived much later than Satoru because he needed to walk Megumi to his new school. Suguru introduced himself as his and Tsumiki’s guardian — the boy didn’t mind; wiped out a few curses in the hallway, strictly prohibiting Megumi from doing the same. Shoko promised to look after the children while Suguru and Satoru are absent, and an assistant manager was hired by Yaga to drive them to school and back every day. In hindsight, they should have picked a school situated closer to the future new house, but the sole chance of leaving the dorms behind in a few months came as a surprise. Just like the fact that the person swaying with his hands wrapped around the bouquet in front of Suguru’s eyes is now his boyfriend (partner, Satoru insists).

Pausing, Satoru buries his face in the petals. The invasive pollen of the big white lilies makes him sneeze. Suguru smiles fondly and hides behind the screen to finish dressing up. He ties up the long Chinese-style dark blue robe he put on above the loose trousers and a white kimono. In the end, he topples it all with a golden mantle sewn with ritual patchwork. 

“Look!” He leaves the screen behind. Satoru whips around. “Purchased it in the internet” 

Satoru comes closer and lifts the blue robe’s long and wide sleeve. “You’re such a freak. I told you to bring something traditional, not a legit buddhist cosplay. You’re not a devout monk — I checked last night”

“Hey, I like it.” Suguru spins to show the costume from every angle. “Do you know what this mantle is called,” he smirks slyly, adjusting the knot on his left shoulder. 

Satoru shrugs. Despite the displeased attitude, he’s scrutinizing Suguru’s appearance, his eyes running over every fold. “Do I look like a nerd? It’s your typecast”

“It’s called gojo-kesa”

“Oh… Okay, now I like it too” 

“Narcissist” 

“You need to complete the image by changing your surname into mine” 

Blushing, Suguru hides his abashment, covering his face with the back of his palm. “Not possible in this dimension.” He moves to a small mirror hanging on the wall next to a closet. Drawing a rubber band from around his wrist, he ties up his front locks. He hears the bouquet drop on the bed. Satoru appears from behind and puts both hands on his shoulders. 

“Watch out, fam! You too, blurry privileged mugs from all around Japan!” He speaks cheerfully, looking at their reflections from Suguru’s right. “This is Geto Suguru, my brilliant, unique, handsome, caring—“

“Not possible — part two.” He tries to wriggle out of Satoru’s grip, failing miserably. “And your redundancy in compliments ever since we started dating is embarrassing”

Satoru hangs his arms over Suguru’s chest. He really grew up — Suguru cannot argue that they’re of the same height anymore. “Truth ain’t embarrassing. Your self-esteem is just ri-i-ght there,” he points to the floor underneath Suguru’s white-socked feet. “Makes you fucking blind” 

“Much better. For the arrogance you get a kiss.” Satoru spins him around immediately and claims his prize. Suguru hooks his fingers under the edges of Satoru’s black yukata and lifts them slightly. “Let’s fix your collar” 

When Suguru asked what he would like to get for his birthday, Satoru said he didn’t want any particular present, but would appreciate it if Suguru attended the celebration at the clan estate — or not appreciate, but would be glad to piss off his family with Suguru’s presence. Apprehensive as he was, he could not deny a birthday wish. He was curious, after all — he had a chance to witness his boyfriend’s (partner’s) background with his very eyes. Firstly, Satoru instructed him to refrain from drinking or eating anything set into his personal dishes, or to make Satoru taste the items beforehand — which sounded delusional, unless he has already trained his Infinity to identify poisons. Secondly, Suguru should sit next to Satoru’s beloved uncle — his mother’s older brother.

Uncle Gojo was running late for the celebration along with Satoru’s father, so, instead, one of the rare young guests, a girl from the Kamo clan took his place. As Suguru is making small talk with her, Satoru is staring daggers at their corner of the table from the gap in his own circle of many guests in the middle of a vast dining space. “So it took me three times of miserable failure to grow cucumbers on the windowsill,” she finishes her tale. 

“Yeah, I took the same approach with bell peppers, but they were two months late and died before bringing fruit,” Suguru comments.

Kamo-san stares at the splendid woodcuts with scenes of untamed highland nature that decorate the nearest wall. Suguru would like to have these in the new home too. He begins to get the hang of classical interior and clothing that are setting the atmosphere of the whole estate. “So you’re a special grade, just like Satoru” 

Somehow tuned to her voice from this unattainable distance, Satoru takes it as his cue to approach the low table of varnished wood. He kicks it slightly before he settles next to Suguru, making the many luxurious ceramics jump. “That’s right! He has even mastered RCT already” 

The girl prefers to ignore him, focusing on Suguru. “Do you have a girlfriend?” 

He was hoping with his whole heart that they would only bond over saving post-cooking vegetable seeds to experiment in planting them into pots.

“No, I do not.” He shakes his head, smiling politely. She is nice and interesting to talk to. Suguru feels sorry for her fate. He might as well start counting minutes until her day is ruined. 

“My parents are searching for a good party for me, but you know, they were all weak or ugly so far.” Suguru has to resist an urge to slump his head on the table. He must intervene. “You’re neither, Geto” 

Suguru digs his fingers into Satoru’s knee under the table; opens his mouth to express disinterest, but it’s too late. “Oh, Suguru’s also searching for a bride. You should meet his family first,” he barges in. 

She outright refuses to acknowledge Satoru’s presence. “Does my family know your parents?” 

“His mother is a doctor and his father is a contractor. They’ll be pleased if he has such a beautiful wife — with a huge dowry, no less. Folks get married young in the countryside” 

Face fallen, Kamo-san stands up, elegantly tending to the folds of her kimono, and walks away.

Six days. They’ve been dating for six days, and Satoru has already lashed out on a bakery cashier, a stranger on Yoyogi station and this innocent girl. He wonders if he’s going to settle down over the years. Suguru’s not planning on becoming majorly unattractive or boring any time soon — i.e. Satoru must deal with a relatively agreeable boyfriend-partner.

Glaring, Suguru hits him upside the head. “You’re a menace, you know that? I could dismiss her in a civilized way” 

To Suguru, the psychology of this situation is simple: Kamo-san saw one of the almost non-existent peers — a new face at that —and caught a short-lived party crush to pass the time. If he were her, between Satoru and himself, Suguru would choose himself, too. Not because he is better from any standpoint, he’s just not acting like a semi-literate infantile. 

Satoru has every right for it, after all. It’s his birthday, and this party sucks big time. Suguru feels like he’s five years old all over again, and mom dragged him to her childless friend’s apartment, leaving him to play alone while she’s enjoying the rare time with her friend crew. He was always quiet and obedient on such evenings, because these friends from the city hospital had expensive computers with games, and adorable pets. 

Right before running to make up with Satoru on that day they began dating, Suguru had called his mom, begging for advice. He didn’t disclose any details about the nature of their relationship — minding Satoru’s privacy and his own position, however, in all honesty — he was complaining in earnest. The great Sachiko Geto was berating him like there’s no tomorrow. Yet she was right in her every word. He could only wish for at least a half of her empathy and compassion. She said many sensible things, but above all, Suguru took up on the following, ‘Let Satoru survive his life the best he can. You have reasons you got to be the way you are, and Satoru has got his.’ 

“She was looking at you wrong ever since we came here. I was the civilizest. If I wasn’t, I’d throw that sushi plate in her face” 

He rolls his eyes. “Define correct looking” 

Satoru frowns in contemplation. At last, he raises his index finger, determined to speak his brilliant mind. “Not looking!” 

Suguru plants his elbow on the table and leans his cheek on a flat palm. The monk robes are ceasing to be a cosplay. He should have been born Tengen’s understudy: he would sit in his shrine under the ground, read and meditate, waiting for Satoru to come at the light. “It’s very flattering, but chill the hell out already. I like chatting with strangers” Suguru picks up a piece of approved salmon sushi and chews it with pleasure, disregarding the rules of eating sushi — he has never tried such perfectly fresh fish. 

The tall wooden doors are creaking, attracting collective attention. Satoru’s eyes meet the newest guest. He leans on Suguru’s shoulder to stand up, “Enjoy a chat with him” 

A short man, about forty years old, with a beard and a mop of long hair, spreads his arms at the sight of Satoru. “Here you are, birthday boy!” 

Satoru jumps into his arms, almost knocking the man out. “Heya!” He leans away after a moment and points in Suguru’s direction. “Sit there. I’ll go circulate”

This must be the uncle. He indeed resembles the picture Satoru was painting when he was describing his mother — same ‘enormous’ forehead and dark delicate lips. “Have a drink with me, weird bangs!” He offers Suguru a glass shaped for drinking champagne that he brought along with him. All the other guests are drinking sake from proper cups. 

“I am a minor, Gojo-san” 

Uncle Gojo waves him off and fishes a whole bottle of white champagne from his kimono. “I get it, pal. Satoru warned you. Here, let us open this and I’ll drink first” 

“So you know who I am” 

“Of course, you’re a celebrity in certain circles now — though no one is allowed to mention your name in sophisticated conversations. But I know you as Satoru’s ‘true friend’ — that’s what he was always calling you. We’ll drink to your bravery, or should I call it recklessness?”

The glasses clink. Suguru smiles. This man radiates a youthful and generous presence. No wonder Satoru likes him best. “May I ask a question?” Uncle Gojo nods enthusiastically. Suguru knows it’s not an appropriate conversation starter, but he’s dying from curiousity. “So… If Satoru’s mother had the Six Eyes, then he inherited Limitless from his father…” 

“You’re asking if he’s an incestual baby?” He breaks into cackling. “No, you’re confusing something. He inherited both techniques from my dear late sister — directly or not. His bastard of a dad is not from our family. They made him the clan head only because he wasn’t an impotent at his sixty years old and didn’t manage to pull it out when he should have. Don’t get it twisted, Satoru is a darling. I just want this senile douchebag to kick the bucket real soon” 

They are talking this old. Now that’s a topic. Suguru hesitates to ask for an elaboration, but Uncle Gojo indulges without request, sipping on the champagne. Maybe he’s a lightweight, maybe he’s bored out of his mind just the same. “I didn’t want her to marry him because I saw it in his eyes — he came here to build a career. While sister loved him dearly. He used to be this galant veteran who was cracking jokes, telling war stories and bringing her sweets from the city” 

Suguru’s smile falls. This story is not going to shine with a happy ending. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to pry in” 

“No, you should hear it and get it well into your head. One day she came to me, telling they had spent a night together. There were tears in her eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he raped her — he is a major PTSD survivor. His technique allows him to control his own senses: he could switch off his ears or nose, or eyes, or cursed energy perception any time. In the 1945 he was using it for retrieving the cadavers from the battlefield and in the aftermath of nuclear bombing. Non-sorcerers were thinking he possessed infinite resilience and dedication. It wasn’t an unusual turn of events — most sorcerers were serving in the army.” 

“They got married fast. I remember when I understood that I hate this person. The emperor died about a month before Satoru was conceived, and Tetsuzan was joking that his child was going to bring a new era because Showa Hirohito-sama died that year. I prayed to all the deities that the child was born without an inherited technique. Who the hell wishes for a reincarnated emperor…” 

“A mythical figure from one angle, an accomplice of crimes against humanity from the other. Never saw the justice of a tribunal.” Suguru pours another glass for the both of them. 

“Correct.” Uncle Gojo winks, drinking more. “And then he jinxed it — Gojo Satoru entered the world. The old fool went completely nuts. The clan could handle this birth any other way. I voted for concealing Satoru’s powers until he grows up. But Tetsuzan was running his mouth, announcing to everyone what his son was. An army of curse users caught the memo fast. Satoru ended up sheltered at the estate until they trained him to protect himself. Brainwashed him into thinking he’s the mythical hero in the process” 

Truthfully, Suguru is itching to ask, And where were you when your precious nephew was being taken advantage of? 

He settles on another question — the one much closer to his own walk of life. “Wasn’t Satoru’s dad doing a diligent and fulfilling work during the war? What was leading him to recompense in such a cruel way?” 

“You know, most of the present higher administration are about as old as him. They all participated in the Second World War. Some fought.” He shrugs, waiting for Suguru to underline the cause and effect. 

“So they don’t care about human victims now because they are aware of the atrocities ordinary people are capable of. What’s more, the preceding generation had witnessed the western intervention, the civil war that led to restoration; the colonization of Korea and Manchuria. The war of aggression, the Nanjing Massacre, Unit 731…” Suguru muses. He isn’t his father’s son for nothing. 

“I even encountered rumors that notorious Mukai and Noda were sorcerers.” Uncle Gojo’s gaze is focused on him, hesitant and hopeful. 

“If this is what was driving the powers that be to building the status quo, then why would they care about cursed spirits — exorcism is helping people.” Suguru’s eyes widen. “I get it. It’s system which paramount purpose is maintaining itself.”

“Excellent. Very good.” Uncle Gojo applauds, attracting a few dubious glances. At this point all the other guests have deserted the table Suguru and the man are occupying. His ear has registered a few ‘He’s at it again’s.

“But you know what left me in wonder…” Uncle Gojo is gulping from the bottle now. “Tetsuzan was telling that he hadn’t spotted a single curse during the war. The level of sorcery enhances the strength of cursed spirits, and many good sorcerers had died on the battlefield, fighting alongside the ordinary folk. But it’s not the sole reason. It’s what was going on in people’s minds”

Suguru is ready to jump from his seat. “How is that possible? Weren’t people… scared? Hurt? Angry? Curses always appear in the times of crises”  

“I think it was so awful that no one had time to do anything but hope. And when they cried, they cried like it was the last time. Same goes for anger and cruelty. The devout sadists acquired an outlet to fulfill the violent urges. The young men angry at injustice got parties and went to war to prove they are involved. A feast of extreme emotions. The low cursed activity was remaining until the data about Hiroshima has become public knowledge in the fifties. Resentment and distorted guilt was forming the curses all over again” 

“So the problem is not the negative emotions but the way we hide them? No, it doesn’t make sense. It is not interchangeable. If it was the case, sorcerers would too create curses…” Suguru sighs, lost in contemplation. “So basically, everyone would control their cursed energy only in the circumstance of perpetual war and bloodshed?” 

“Has anyone ever told you that they had uncovered the core of cursed energy? Well, don’t believe the talks about enlightenment and omniscience, because in reality it’s aggression. Jung’s libido, Nietsche’s will to power…”

Satoru approaches their table, tuning into the conversation.

“Lev Gumilev’s passionarity, but in its worst form. Inverted vitality,” Suguru adds then. Satoru grimaces, murmurs, “Nerds,” and goes on coursing around the hall. 

“What a bright boy you are.” Uncle Gojo grins, patting Suguru’s shoulder. “For sorcerers who are wired for extreme pridefulness the act of violence is purifying. You’ve got a carte blanche for solving any problem this way. And being enchained with responsibilities, you at least perform self-exorcism through exterminating curses — you capitalize on the most cruel parts of yourself. That’s why everyone who was introduced to the line of work rarely ever retires. You don’t know how to operate on positive motivation anymore. You embody the cycle of abuse and old men like Tetsuzan and Co. are curating the experience” 

“Then what was driving himself? What kind of aggression was it?” 

“I am not his therapist, but to my mind, it was the desire to prove that there’s more to life. A desire to escape the boredom and general ethical myopia, to prove wrong the resentment for non-sorcerers that our secluded background was holding then and is holding now” 

“Hm, an interest in assimilation of sorcerers and humans. And it only brought frustration so he decided to parasitize on clan life and never interact with people again. Still, if a sorcerer separates him- or herself from this whole cycle occasionally, they may live a fulfilling life, too? It’s all in the balance, isn’t it?” 

Uncle Gojo hangs his head. “This balance may be something that you’ll be looking for your whole life, only to catch the occasional glimpses in all the wrong narratives. I have ultimately decided that I’d rather teach my children happiness than valor. For those who practice prowess for their whole life never see peace and quiet enough to recognize it” 

Suguru is searching for Satoru in the room, but he’s nowhere to be found. “But what if I have someone who is ready to be unhappy with me? Does two times unhappiness equal happiness?” 

***

Uncle Gojo smiles and opens his mouth to answer when they hear the clicking of metal against the porcelain cup. “Satoru, dear! Tell us about your achievements this year,” a stranger female voice requests. 

Disillusioned, Satoru is standing at the door. 

“It’s a tradition,” Uncle Gojo explains. “Let us see if he has learned something this year. Typically he delivers a few savvy sentences about his honor to be The Gojo to please Tetsuzan”

”…who wouldn’t even show up today,” Suguru adds, gritting his teeth. Turning away from the man, Suguru stealthily sends an air kiss toward Satoru. He squeezes his fist in the air, signaling that he received the sentiment. They exchange soft smiles. 

Taking a step further into the room, Satoru raises his hand. In the blink of an eye he is already waving red around the room. He clears his throat. Everyone falls silent. People are freezing on their seats under Suguru’s outsider scrutiny. 

“Do you guys know what I’ve been doing in Kyoto? I was doing what you love most. Exercising my technique. You pray for it, don’t you? You want an invincible shield to protect your status quo at all times. A picture-perfect Gojo Satoru who is strong enough to clean everyone’s mess. Both the mess that curses make and your own” 

Satoru begins traveling around the room, keeping the sphere of unsent attack in his hand. 

“You were sharp. You taught me to fetishize this technique of mine. It’s a piece of cake to manipulate me into taking responsibility in exchange for self-satisfaction. You were so-o-o right,” he points to his head with the free hand, looking delirious. 

“But your next move was so ill-advised it’s not even funny…” 

“Oh no,” Suguru hides face first in his arms. “There he goes” 

Uncle Gojo smirks. “I knew something is going on. He was always complying when asked to keep his eyes bare during the celebration.” Satoru indeed was wearing glasses throughout the event. 

“Now you are one wrong word away from becoming a mess. And I have some tricks at hand to take care of it.” He sends a flash, breaking a lamp in the corner of the hall, leaving some guests between dim walls. “You created a bomb and now you are the target. If I wish so, I will wipe surfaces with you and nothing, I repeat, nothing shall hold me back” 

“Status? It hangs by a thread every time I so much as demand moments of personal agency. Respect? The likes of you have surrounded me since I was born, so I know for sure you have none of that for me. Safety? A foreign concept in our line of work” 

At some point Satoru passes next to their table and Suguru takes a close look at him. He doesn’t seem drunk. He reaches to pull at Satoru’s sleeve, but Uncle Gojo slaps his hand away. “Leave him be. He’s right — no one can do anything to him. Especially now” 

“You should fear me exactly because you have nothing to bribe me with. You planned to erase the one person I can’t afford to lose, and who, just for your information, is the major restraining force in the face of my urge to deracinate the heart of all calamities that occurred in the past years” 

“A lotus flower growing from the mud,” the man remarks, content. “Your influence?”  

“Nah.” Suguru denies, waving his hand. He feels so drunk suddenly. Or maybe it’s the strange allure of Satoru’s attitude. The fact that everyone but Suguru is shivering from terror at the moment… makes him feel some type of way. He would describe it as the middle ground between bodily arousal and simple cerebral emotion of pride. He cannot tear his eyes away from Satoru no matter how passionately his rational side is trying to convince him that what is happening is wrong. “He decided who he is. I’m just his front row audience,” Suguru whispers. It’s not even about letting one survive the best one can, it’s about admiration for one’s mode of survival. 

“Once a certain guy tried to kill yours truly. I’m going to voice his name just to piss you off. Fushiguro Toji. You say he broke our fates when he assassinated Tengen’s vessel” 

Suguru feels like he’s in the middle of a decadent theater piece and he forgot his lines. He covers his mouth, snorting from repressed laughter. 

“And I by no means sympathize with him, pal had some unexplainable antagonism regarding me since I was like, four, and tried to cut my head off more than a decade later. 

“But who created the famous sorcerer killer before he unintentionally got in your way? The likes of you. You are no different from your biggest adversary, so to speak” 

“Anyone down for some succession? At this point I’d rather be karmically related to him than to the Gojos. Except this time your own creation will get in the way intentionally if push comes to shove”  

“In case I didn’t make myself clear.” He points in Suguru’s direction. “Fuck with this young man and—“

That’s when Suguru simply cracks. His hysterical laughter fills the room, attracting everyone’s attention. 

“Suguru, shut the fuck up!” he cries out. “Hurt him again and I’ll make sure you all reincarnate one hundred times before you round off the damage Gojo Satoru did to everything you barbarians hold dear. Because nirvana is long off the table after the years you spent digging a mass grave for all the good people who were providing for your so-called society. If I were not in a nice birthday mood for a spoken warning, I would send you straight to hell for all the hurt you’ve already inflicted on us”

“I’ll say one more thing — to assess the future you like me talking about during these lousy annual speeches — not mine though, because it’s mine for a reason. But I’m certain about the other person in this room. The one mister Zenin Naobito called, and I quote—“ He shows the quote signs with fingers of both of his hands, “—a sidekick. One day everyone will be ashamed to even mention the era of your reign and honored to live in the same century as Geto Suguru. Time’s ticking” 

To drive the point home, he knocks out the rest of the lighting in the room, shooting the lamps with his technique. 

Barely in the range of sight, Uncle Gojo and Suguru look at each other in bewilderment. The man raises his glass. Before Suguru can reciprocate, he feels a grip on his forearm. “You know, you would really hit it off with my dad,” he calls out in passing, being pulled up by Satoru. 

“Leave his number to my secretary,” he hears him say in the darkness of the hall before leaving. 

*** 

Having left the main building of the estate, they are walking through the many trails accompanied by terraces and minuscule gardens with trees of peculiar shapes. 

Satoru stops in front a two story wooden mansion. It is painted green and suffices as the most western house of the whole ensemble of buildings in the huge territory of the clan grounds.

Standing behind the door, Suguru pulls at Satoru’s hand before he could dive deeper into the quiet hall. “You’re unhinged and pretentious. But that was sweet,” he puts his hands on Satoru’s chest and inches close to his face. “Come here” 

Satoru grimaces after the first kiss. “He got you drunk,” he grumbles before connecting their lips again. He reaches for the glass of champagne in his hands that Suguru stole from the table. “Give me that. I need courage” 

“What for? Your performance is over” 

“This outhouse is mine. We have it all to ourselves.”

As they are traveling through the halls, Suguru admires the red ornamental carton wallpapers and framed copies of famous yuki-o’s picturing mythical creatures. “You always lived here?” 

“More or less. I liked my privacy”

“Did you really?” 

Satoru traces his fingers over the varnished staircase handles. “Not at all. I was just sick of adults. I tried to talk with people on the internet, using a nickname and all, but it didn’t go beyond discussing video games. I fantasized about meeting them and going to the arcades or something, but I knew it wasn’t possible. I even thought I had a crush on this girl from a chatting website. Never even saw her face, just liked the idea in my head” 

“Was it mutual?” 

“I don’t know. But she was mad that I never talked about my life. She deleted our chat one day without warning” 

“I can imagine. Girls in my class were always complaining about guys who didn’t know phrases other than ‘What’s up?’ and ‘That’s cool’”

“That was literally me!” 

“They wanted depth and vulnerability which fourteen year old boys cannot grant them. Women are just so much more mature and sophisticated than us” 

“You were, like, this guy who is always hanging out with a bunch of girls,” Satoru asks, as if he knows anything about school social dynamics. He probably got a clue from TV series. 

“Yeah, at school I liked to hang out with girls, because I too was getting tired of my macho crew from the dojo — talking about manga and sports, pretending I find women from erotic magazines attractive” 

“So you are gay?” 

Suguru nods confidently. This conversation is long overdue, but the first time they confessed to each other, they were meddling in a disastrous  mission, which was all they were talking about. 

“How did you find out?”

“Well… First you have a vague recognition that staring at male upperclassmen during PE makes you feel a certain way. And then, of course, pornography… What about you? What are you?” 

“No idea. I guess I admire beauty in both, but interacting with actual people is different. I have no interest in finding out. I already know that I’ll spend my life with you” 

Suguru shakes his head. “You really are crazy. How can you say this so confidently?” 

He turns around and focuses on Suguru’s face with abundant seriousness in his eyes. “I just know it. It’s either you or no one at all. And I’m not so stupid as to ever lose you” 

“Oh, Satoru.” If it was said by anyone else, Suguru wouldn’t even perceive it as anything but hypocritical flirting — and he is going to pretend that he doesn’t believe this person either — but he hangs onto every word. 

They arrive in a bedroom on the first floor. It is filled with old and tasteful furniture, but looks nothing like a room belonging to a child or any actual person — more like an expensive hotel room waiting for a new guest.

It takes some time to put off the layers of traditional clothing. Suguru undresses himself first in front of Satoru’s eyes and then moves to the bed where he is waiting, sitting on the bed in a closed pose. 

Having finished taking off the clothes, Suguru kneels in front of the bed between Satoru’s legs and gets rid of his socks. He wraps his fingers around his bare ankle and lays his cheek on top of Satoru’s thigh, looking up at him with a smile. “These legs are to die for,” he whispers, caressing his calf. 

He was always self-conscious about the desire he felt for Satoru. He is so painstakingly handsome that half the time Suguru refused to acknowledge it purely out of spite, but he is no stranger to the urge to touch him, claim him as his, pleasure him. He dreamed of him at fifteen when they were still ridiculous lanky boys and his mouth is watering at the sight of a bare shoulder of this almost grown man with fine features and strong body.

Satoru remains silent, breathing loudly with his whole chest. 

He is uncharacteristically shy in the moments of intimacy. Suguru himself only had sex a handful of times, but still — it puzzles him. It’s not like Satoru who drags him around the nearest corner to kiss on the school grounds every ten minutes. It only happens when they go as far as stripping and touching each other. 

Suguru doesn’t want to jump to unpleasant conclusions. He promised himself to communicate — capital C. “Hey,” he calls out, raising his head and leaning on Satoru’s knee to straighten and see his face up close. “Is something wrong? If you changed your mind, it’s totally fine” 

He avoids Suguru’s eyes. “No, go on” 

He does the exact opposite, tearing his hands away. He crosses his legs, sitting a bit further on the carpet. “What is it,” he asks with cold finality, examining Satoru’s reaction. 

“These eyes are freaking me out every time we do something like this.” Satoru hangs his head, clutching the sheets with both hands. “It’s like… I’m overwhelmed with your touch and at the same time my eyes are working full-force because it’s super weird to wear the sunglasses in such moments. I’m so mad that they won’t let me focus on you” 

Suguru retreats in search of their clothes scattered around the floor behind his back. 

“Where are you going? You don’t want it anymore?” he hears Satoru’s wavering voice. 

He sighs. Apparently, not only the eyes are concerned: he is anxious in such a vulnerable state. Suguru is rummaging through the many items of clothing to no avail. Satoru’s vest is lost somewhere, or the room is too dark to find it. He clicks his tongue — with every additional second it’s getting progressively more awkward. 

“How fond are you of this yukata,” he asks, taking a hold of Satoru’s black robe and raising it to show what exactly he has picked. 

Confused, Satoru drawls, “Not… at all” 

Suguru tears away a long enough piece of fabric from the edge of the robe and, with one more effort, detaches the short part. Straightening, he stretches the ribbon in his palms to warn what he’s about to do. Sitting down next to Satoru, he wraps the soft fabric around his eyes. He keens at the touch of careful fingertips. “Better?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry for this” 

“It’s all good.” He kisses his shoulder and lies down on the bed. He spreads his arms to invite Satoru in the embrace. “Not your fault,” he comforts in between kisses, “just a side effect of your technique. You can still see me, right?” 

“Absolutely” 

“What can I give you, birthday boy? Tell me what you want”

“I want…” He plants his chin on Suguru’s chest. “I bought the lube and all” 

“You want to be on top, or…”

“No, you. I prepared myself.” So that’s where he disappeared at some point of the evening. 

Suguru flicks his forehead. “Next time let me do it”

“I tried to sneak you out but you were talking about passionarity or whatever. I could show you passionarity in that bathroom.” Suguru laughs out. Either he’s very drunk or the instinct to laugh at a hot boy’s jokes is kicking in. “Next time don’t shave your body. Armpit hair is so hot,” Satoru adds. 

“Oh, thank god.” He never realized kinks could be convenient. 

Satoru is moving downwards to mouth on his nipple. Suguru squirms at the touch. He doesn’t really feel anything in this area. They will learn with time — how to take care of each other. He rolls them both over. 

Underneath him, Satoru has lost the temper he was exhibiting in public. He is nothing short of pliant. He looks at Suguru with his eyebrows drawn close, teardrops dampening the fabric of the makeshift blindfold. He comforts Satoru with whispers of praise in the first heavy and slow moments. “Smile, Suguru. Your frown makes it worse,” he pleads. With some effort, Suguru puts on his best comforting smile before reaching to kiss away Satoru’s own frown. 

They experimentally switch positions with time, with Satoru ending up on top of him, straddling his hips. A tall mirror he hadn't noticed before in the dark room catches Suguru’s attention. 

Satoru speaks up as soon as he tosses a single glance at the reflection. “Where are you looking at? Am I so bad at this?” 

It’s certainly not just the eyes. Suguru leans up and plants his arms on Satoru’s shoulders, their chests flush. “You want to be good for me?”

He breathes through his open mouth, rocking against Suguru groin slowly. “Yes,” he says, his voice feeble. 

“Turn your head to your left then.” He grabs Satoru by the waist and handles his body to set the pace. Satoru gulps for air, but keeps his eyes on the mirror. “You can never fuck it up, because it’s you I’m with. I’m with the only one I want.” He uses his hand to drive Satoru to completion.

Suguru isn’t sure if this power he has over the one he loves is scary or exhilarating. Perhaps both, just like two versions of Satoru coexist when it comes to his feelings. He is both virile, fiercely protective — and breakable in unconditional trust. He is cautious in war and courageous in love, demanding more and more with reckless abandon. Suguru is the direct opposite. But he has just begun to comprehend that their differences are irrelevant. Maybe the adverse standpoints allow them to connect in the middle of all things.

*** 

Suguru wakes up at two in the morning with his mouth dry. He cracks his eyes open forcefully, mentally commanding himself to go to the kitchen downstairs to drink some water. Apparently, it’s the effect of champagne. 

He realizes that the bed is empty. Satoru’s haori and the damaged robe are still on the floor, but one of the kimonos is nowhere to be seen. Thirst forgotten, Suguru lazily puts on the trousers from his own costume and begins searching for Satoru inside the house, but the rooms are empty and silent. 

Giving up to impassive waiting, he goes to the kitchen on the ground floor. Having had some water, he opens the window to let the cool midnight air in and hears the water splashing in the backyard pond with lotuses growing along the edges. Running to the window that is facing the pond, he sees Satoru swimming on his back, his pale naked chest and arms contrast with the black water surface.

Looking closely, he realizes that Satoru’s hair is wet and water drops are peppering his skin. He is balancing on the water on his own, without the technique. He gazes at the sky with serene half-closed eyes. Suguru steps outside through the back door and trudges on his bare feet toward the shore. 

“Is it cold?” Suguru distracts him, hugging his own shoulders. He is standing on the edge of a wooden berth. His toes are red. It is a chilling night. 

Satoru turns his head to face him. “A little. I balance the temperature by coursing cursed energy through my body. Care to join me?” 

Suguru takes the trousers off, leaving them on the platform next to Satoru’s kimono and jumps headfirst into the pond. He reappears right in front of Satoru, who chuckles when the water from Suguru’s hair hits his face once he shakes it off. “Damn, it’s freezing!” Suguru can’t help a wide amused smile. “What if someone sees us?”

Suguru has a hard time finding footing on the uneven pond bed, so he reaches out to cling to Satoru’s shoulders. Satoru pats his thigh underwater, signaling for Suguru to wrap his legs around his hips. “They are not allowed in this house unless I’m absent.” They savour a languid open-mouthed kiss. “If only they knew what you were doing to the young master behind closed doors” 

“How are you feeling? Does it hurt?” 

“Just a bit. The first time was uncomfortable, really. The second was amazing” 

“You were.” Suguru pecks the tip of his nose. “Just don’t leave me alone in bed anymore. I was so sad when I didn’t find you next to me” 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he pouts. “I used to enjoy swimming like this once in a while.” He lifts his head. “You see so many stars in the sky far away from Tokyo”

“Shit.” Suguru palms his ear while brushing a damp strand from his face. “I think lost my gauge in the water”

He laughs out. “Get out of here and bring a blanket or something. I’ll find it” 

Satoru has spent half an hour searching for the gauge underwater while Suguru was sitting on the shore, wrapped in a woolen blanket that was covering an armchair in one of the halls. 

He emerges from the water once again, his face red. “Well, damn. The bottom of the pond is so muddy even my eyes wouldn’t spot it”

Suguru extends a hand. Satoru takes it, letting him pull him out of the pond. “Yeah, you grow lotus flowers in the mud” 

Suguru envelops him in the blanket. They remain standing on the platform, searching for warmth in each other’s bodies. “You told me you wanted new extensions.” Satoru kisses his forehead. “Let me buy you new gauges or whatever you need to stretch the ear. I have no idea how you do it” 

“You remember what I was talking about?” Flattered, Suguru hugs him tighter. “I can buy them myself. I’m not this broke”

“Denied. You’re so petty sometimes. I’ll be handling the budget in this family, because you don’t know how to spend money for your own pleasure” 

Two days later the oldest maid among the staff that has been taking care of Satoru since he was in diapers called him to tell that she found an unusual earring on his bed. Scolded him for piercing his ear ‘like some delinquent’. 

End of Part 2

Chapter Text

For Satoru graduation from Tokyo Jujutsu Technical college means only one thing — from now on he is officially loaded. 

He received twenty million, all for personal use. He was expecting to give half of it away to the Zenin clan, but they refused to accept ‘Gojo money’. Satoru didn’t insist. He could list plenty of ways to spend his fund more reasonably. The children will grow without care in the world. If Suguru wanted to, he might as well not work a day in his life anymore — with the house, savings and money Satoru earns via missions they’d be just fine. But he knows Suguru has ambitions too, so the money is a pleasant convenience that will help them focus on their goals.  

Satoru refuses to participate in the graduation ceremony along with the foreign group of upperclassmen — nobody even knows their names because they were imminently overshadowed on the day Suguru and Satoru had appeared on the threshold. He simply marches to Yaga’s office to receive his certificate. 

The hall where Yaga keeps his cursed corpses meets Satoru with complete darkness. He tugs on his blindfold to see more. Suguru’s makeshift solution to his sensory agitation became the base for the blindfold Satoru purchased from the staff responsible for uniform design. He found out that it is much more comfortable than sunglasses as it is tucking away the visual noise that Satoru didn’t even acknowledge before. 

Yaga is sitting in the middle of the hall, surrounded by unlit candles. The candle he had next to him has melted completely, but he didn’t make an effort to replace it and bring the light back. Satoru figures that the principal simply doesn’t want to face him.

He sits down cross-legged in front of Yaga. There’s another goal he has — negotiation. 

“So you are thinking it wasn’t your clan?”

“Yup.” Satoru wasn’t just entertaining himself back on December 7. He analyzed everyone’s behavior during his birthday celebration, chatted with literally every guest, made this big speech regarding the event, fishing for reactions. Not a single soul was trying to make amends. He remembers clan crowd as renowned compulsive hypocrites who never avoid throwing a few excuses. Everyone were so tight lipped that Satoru became suspicious. He recalled Yuki Tsukumo’s words then. Her potential as an ally is something he’d like to keep for the future. From the moment of realization Satoru and Suguru began investigating further. “We pulled up the reports — which you never allowed us to do, by the way, until now that you became oh so cooperative — and took our time to think. Wonderful things happen when you have free time to spend, right? That’s why you were so adamant on never giving it to us” 

Yaga grunts discontentedly, but doesn’t stop him. With his bare eyes Satoru sees him turns his head away. He is running from Satoru’s glazing gaze as it is literally shining in the dark. 

“If my clan really wanted to get rid of Suguru, they’d at least let him crash the neighborhood along with a bunch of civilians. A couple of deaths would be enough to indict and exile him. The public would not believe that he was attacked by zombie Toji. Neither would anyone listen to Tsumiki. Instead, citizens were evacuated, and the veil was put on. For the perpetrator — let us call them the mastermind — the choice of hitmen is obvious: only Toji is able to kill Suguru in solo” 

“Or you” 

“Oh, please. Here comes the punchline: the mastermind’s doing reveals to you that Suguru is worth chasing for. You learn something about him — something you don’t like. At first you declare him dead and rush to the crime scene. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were hoping to finish him off right there.” 

“Why are you saying ‘you’ all the time? As if I’m directly involved” 

“You’re a pawn in their game, but you’re complicit. You were so kind right after the incident just to let our guard down.”

“That’s not true” 

“Back to business. Suguru survives, I pass the memo of being his ally by saving Megumi. My clan volunteers to claim responsibility for the incident to distract us. My folks paint their own reputation blacker than black — keeping in mind the identity of hitmen. In other words, you wanted us to perceive the situation in a certain way. The best outcome would be if we fought apart and you could play us separately from that moment on. In the end, y’all only forfeit your credibility in my eyes once and for all” 

Come to think of it, the perpetrator must have not planned the situation to escalate to this extreme. Yet it did when the higher-ups decided to take up on the opportunity. Whoever the mastermind is, if they’re aware of the progression, Satoru’s sure they must be laughing their face off right now. They didn’t even fail. As long as Suguru is alive, they may try again. 

“What have you got now? Two special grade sorcerers who are still tight and almost impossible to get rid of. One virtually unbeatable, one dangerous for some discrete reason.  My questions are — do you know who orchestrated the attack, and what exactly makes Suguru so special?”

Yaga takes a box of matches from the floor and lights three candles next to himself. Satoru waits patiently, watching his teacher’s face contorted in doubt and indecisiveness. 

Suddenly a green dragon-like cursed corpse paces toward them with a notepad and a pencil in its paws. The creature pauses next to Satoru and pinches his cheek playfully, attracting his attention to the notepad. It pouts when its paw collides with Infinity. Before it could finish writing the character for “Sky” in its notebook, the dragon explodes, scattering blobs of wool all around Satoru’s barrier. He gapes at Yaga. “Yo, a Binding Vow? They had you pawn your silence?” The man doesn’t react. Satoru’s resentment for him dies down. “What the hell is going on.” He shakes his head, bewildered and scared. 

“What are you planning to do now that you graduated, Satoru?” 

Satoru sighs and draws the blindfold back to cover his eyes. He feels so much pity for Yaga he doesn’t want to fight anymore. “Jujutsu Tech is a high school, right, sensei?” 

“Last time I checked” 

“A high school with no mentorship, no training, almost no regular classes, no attempts to help its students bond, but — with high schoolers working all day long unsupervised instead of taking additional part-time jobs that are typical for their age. That’s what I’m going to work on” 

“I see. Suguru is invested, too?” 

“Obviously.” He chooses to remain confident despite the shift in the mood. “Even if we are able to work on it only because we were allowed to, help us god, we’ll reinterpret every nook and cranny.” 

“Isn’t it humiliating — profiting from ripples on the water?” 

“What’s the use of playing fair in an establishment that never does? A tiny bit of humiliation won’t kill me if it serves the purpose” 

“It’s odd per se. You could just do your job. Instead, you’re challenging your own position. What’s in it for you?” 

Satoru grazes his jaw, considering the answer. He didn’t find it a relevant topic of contemplation. “Mental compensation at best. We want to be the last names on the list of martyrs. Produce and give away the things we never had” 

“You expect it to make you feel better?” Yaga inquires, surprisingly interested in mentoring him now. Satoru almost takes offense. 

“This isn’t about it. I have other things in my life that provide me satisfaction” 

“Didn’t know you had altruism in you” 

Satoru shrugs. “No one ever wanted to know anything about me. That’s why they failed when they were testing my psychology.”

“Whether you believe me or not, I’m genuinely on your side. Where I can help — I will” 

“I do believe. And I’m sure Suguru holds no grudge.” He gets up from the floor. “Pass me my certificate, please. He is waiting for me. Such a nice weather to have lunch outdoors” 

Yaga stands up too, and extracts a thin scroll from the pocket of his jacket. “Satoru,” he directs a guilty glance, eyes dancing around the outline of Satoru’s blindfold. He passes the document. “I’m sorry that your friendship is an object of public surveillance” 

Smiling, Satoru invites him for a handshake. “Observer’s effect”

Yaga shakes his hand firmly and covers Satoru’s palm with his, holding their hands for a while longer before letting go. “Pardon?” 

“Physics. The very act of observation changes the object that is being observed” 

***

Suguru spots him appearing from around the corner and gives a big wave, holding up a plastic bag full of food. 

Leaving the school building behind, Satoru tears away the golden button from his chest. He throws the button to Suguru from afar. He doesn’t manage to catch it as it slips through his fingers, flying away. “Loser!” Satoru shouts and runs toward the wooden bench his loser is occupying. 

Suguru flips him off. He remains in the shadow of a blooming tree, disregarding the button lost on the lawn somewhere behind his back. “Fuck your button,” he teases, crossing his arms. “Give it to one of your fangirls at the sports club” 

“Ouch, someone is jealous.” Having found it in the grass, Satoru picks up the button and places it right into Suguru’s palm this time, closing it into a fist afterwards. “You know I bring Megumi over to every other practice, so they know I’ve got a wifey waiting home for me”

Suguru smiles at the tiny symbol of romantic love in his palm and hides the button in the pocket of his pants. “He did complain about you calling him son in front of your team.”

Once Satoru sits down, Suguru extracts a black case with sunglasses from his own schoolbag. He pulls Satoru’s blindfold down to the base of his neck and replaces it with the glasses. That is the only demerit to Satoru’s favorite new accessory: Suguru is bitching about not seeing his face properly. He assumes a mandate on Satoru’s sunglasses, carrying them with him 24/7 to put them on every time they are meeting in person. 

Unleashing the plastic bag, he hands Suguru two tuna onigiris. Despite him obtaining RCT, the unhealthy eating patterns remained. Satoru figured that starving is some kind of bad habit. He took it as his personal mission to have Suguru associate eating with people he loves: they share meals every chance they get; Satoru buys snacks for Tsumiki and Megumi who always share with Suguru, too. He doesn’t like talking about this problem, so Satoru is trying to pull the strings quietly. 

“Are you sure it were not the curse users you’ve met,” he asks as he’s unwrapping the beef sandwich Suguru bought for him. 

“Nah. There was one curious lady among them, but she died before the incident.” 

“Is the other one still down to cooperate?” 

Suguru chuckles. “Suda Manami? Absolutely. She also promised to bring along some super-powerful guy from Africa. Though I doubt that you’d enjoy the reason behind her enthusiasm” 

“Now that I know you’re playing for the other team I’ve only got one half of human race in my crosshairs” 

“How was it really?” 

“I still don’t know why, but they’re scared shitless of you.” Satoru bites on his sandwich, speaking with his mouth full, “I solidified my position as the resident scarecrow. The school wants us loyal to the system and employed here. In exchange we can fuck them where they live” 

“Well done.” Suguru extends a hand to exchange a high-five. “Just as we planned” 

“I’ve got a question though. Once we succeed, we’ll have the weakest sorcerer crew around, right?” 

Suguru tilts his head, expecting further elaboration. He unwraps his second onigiri and chews on it modestly. 

“You see, if we’re going to stay the most effective muscle and save everyone from trouble, they’ll just make us do all the work. We’ll be popping out new sorcerers who’re entirely dependent on us cleaning after them” 

“Well, personally, I don’t mind such a loop. I’d rather they be mediocre than traumatized or dead” 

“Yeah, right. It’s just…” Satoru turns his sad eyes away. “We’re not getting out of this, ever, right?” 

He didn’t imagine that there would come a day when he feels less enthusiastic about being a sorcerer than Suguru. The relationship is making him soft along with the good time he’s spending with kids and his teammates at the sports club. He would agree to retire and live a normal life in an instant if that was possible. 

“We’re sick in the head, Satoru. We can’t expect others to even tolerate this line of work, let alone pull stunts like we do” 

“That’s for sure. The sickest” Satoru smirks. “Want to share the second sandwich?” 

“Okay”

“Thanks, Suguru” 

“It’s nothing. You treated me yesterday, now it’s my turn” 

“No. Thank you for eating well” 

*** 

In two days they are going to leave the dormitory for good. Satoru is going to move into the house with the Fushiguros while Suguru is picking up the twins. He cannot fold clothes properly to save his life, so he is lying on his dorm bed, keeping Suguru company while he’s packing his possessions into a suitcase. 

He raises a pair of worn out jeans with seams a bit askew. “Can’t believe you kept them” 

“Of course I did. Your mom made them just for…” Then Satoru covers his face with both palms and wheezes, hiccuping with his whole body. 

Suguru spins around, eyeing him incredulously. “What’s so funny?”

“Fucking A!” He has to take a minute to calm down. When he speaks up, his voice turns hoarse from laughter, “So basically, if people wanted to make us fight, they failed this time thanks to your mom. You can’t make this shit up. The best mom joke ever!!”

They look each other in the eyes for a few moments before their wild laughter erupts, echoing around the dormitory through the crack in the door. Once they calm down, it takes one glance for them to burst out laughing again, pushing each other’s shoulders in mischief. 

Suguru wipes tears from his eyes. “Moms — 1, jujutsu society — 0”

Satoru sits up and forms a heart with the fingers of both palms. “Domain Expansion: Open Communication” 

Suguru huffs the last laugh and goes back to retrieving clothes from the closet and folding them.

Suddenly Satoru turns quiet, his grin disappearing. “Is the other Geto-san still unaware?” 

He shakes his head. “For all his knowledge of national history, he thinks that real-life homosexuality is a ‘western disease’” Suguru picks up four manga volumes and drops them into the suitcase. “I’m sure it’s a hard to pill to swallow for her too, but she is fond of you. The fact that we collected more kids than I would ever have with a woman is a plus too”

He sounds a bit too pessimistic because Satoru knows Sachiko is always glad to hear his voice. He calls her almost every day. They gossip about nurses at her hospital. He shares news from their lives because Suguru rarely calls her. She always sides with Satoru every time they’re fighting. 

“Are you mad that I told her about us?” Satoru asks in a small voice. 

“You did the right thing. It’s minus one person to lie to.” He approaches the bed and pets Satoru’s hair gratefully. He leans to the touch, closing his eyes. “It went well, after all — same as when you told about sorcery” 

“Magic”

“Magic, yes” 

It’s different, though. They are in between a rock and a hard place. As sorcerers they are public figures now, their every step interrogated. As people, as lovers, they are supposed to keep everything secret. It agitates Satoru big time. Here is Suguru living a decent life next to him — a wonderful person, someone sacred for Satoru. Yet one side of the world wants him with a ball and a chain — or dead, the other potentially hates him because of vague stereotypes. Satoru sure can’t be trusted to deal with any negative feedback regarding this person. 

Dropping the rest of the books haphazardly, Suguru settles sideways on Satoru’s lap. “I know,” Suguru soothes him, planting faint close-mouthed kisses over the side of his face. “It makes me sad, too. It’s funny how it never bothered me right until I found the person I’d like to show off to the world” 

They still hold hands when they’re walking in the park or trudging through the busy streets downtown. Suguru still falls asleep on his shoulder at the train while Satoru plays with his hair. Yet he doesn’t need the Six Eyes to identify the way strangers are watching them. No one has ever expressed disdain openly — it’s unnatural if you mind the traditional manners — but Satoru knows. And telling the people they know is a whole different type of torture, an issue with pride involved: he can hardly tolerate if someone close insulted the thing that means the world to him; scratch the fact that his very much conservative clan is still hoping for a successor. They wouldn’t like the news. 

Suguru strokes the hair at the back of his head, trying to calm his nerves. “I mean, we’ll tell Shoko and Nanami eventually, but…” He stares at the wall in contemplation. “I don’t want us to be called all these slurs every time we do something the local crowd doesn’t approve, as if the only real problem is the fact that we’re a couple” 

“Yeah, I’d rather they say, ‘These insubordinate assholes have done something again’ — without badmouthing our love for the sake of it.” Satoru wraps his arms tightly around his frame. 

Suguru smiles at the word ‘love’ and shifts closer to kiss him, but Satoru tilts his head backwards. “Sorry. You’re upset,” he apologizes right away, frowning anxiously. 

He just wanted to see this face. Caring, vulnerable. He wanted to see Suguru’s eyes still dart to his lips, longing to touch him despite the respectful restraint he would never betray.  

“No, go ahead,” Satoru whispers before connecting their lips. 

***

“Which one do you think is prettier?” 

“The silver one” 

Suguru picks up the silver kettle. “You’re reading my mind” 

“Shopping is so much fun!” Tsumiki cheers. 

He looks for Satoru and Megumi who are wandering around the department store, seeking for rice cookers. “Only because Son Masayoshi here has lots of money” 

“Who’s that?” 

“The richest man in Japan” 

“Ah, Yubaba from Ghibli movie” 

As if on cue, Satoru runs toward them with Megumi sitting in his shopping cart, grimacing from the speed Satoru is racing with. 

Once they get close, almost colliding with Suguru, Megumi lifts a pot with a houseplant that he’s been holding tighly in both hands. There’s a mischievous glint in the eyes on his otherwise apathetic face — he only looks this way when he’s indulging in Satoru’s shenanigans. He warmed up to Satoru over the months, convinced by Tsumiki to get along with someone who they’re going to live with. 

“Look at this ugly green beast!” Satoru exclaims ecstatically. “We should totally buy it” 

Megumi is holding a Venus flytrap. Looking for Suguru and Tsumiki’s reaction, he puts his index finger into the green mouth of the flytrap. He smirks when the peculiar leaves are closing under the pressure of his finger. “New pet,” Megumi concludes. 

Curious, Tsumiki reaches out. Suguru moves her from his shoulders to let her put her own little finger in the trap. As soon as it encloses the finger, she tears it away, and the leaves shut down completely. “Woah! Scary”  

“You are torturing the poor flower,” Suguru chastises, “And it’s not ugly, you’re insulting centuries of evolutionary development.” All three of them stick out their tongues instead of a reply. 

Suguru spots an aisle with indoor footwear, everyone following his way. Truth is, him and Satoru gathered most of the necessities over the years of living at the dorms, but Satoru decided that they should buy everything once again. Freshen up the atmosphere at the new home. 

Suguru palms the rubber slippers hung all over the rack. “Still 27.5?” 

“Yes, sir.” Satoru calls out. “I want the purple ones.” He lifts Megumi by the leg with one hand to check his shoe size. Hanging upside down, the boy doesn’t care to react. He sure is used to Satoru by now. “19!” 

“What’s your size, darling,” Suguru glances at Tsumiki. 

“18.5!” 

In the end he picks a black pair for himself. 

“Oh,” Tsumiki wonders, “I thought we were going to live in Gojo-san’s new house and you will visit us” 

“No, Suguru is going to live with us. He just needs to show up at school every day”  

“I’ll bring my daughters too, next week” 

“That’s cool! It’s like when Toji-san came with Megumi to live with me and my mama. Except…” 

Suguru is sweating, hard. He shoots Satoru a panicked side-eye. “Do you think of us as your older brothers,” he fills in. Suguru nods in approval. Smart. 

“Gojo is like a brother. And Geto-san is like a dad,” Megumi joins the discussion. 

Suguru learn how to breathe again. “Does it make me Satoru’s parent,” he jokes.

Satoru slaps his back with one of his new slippers. “No way. I’m two months older than Suguru!” 

“What!” Tsumiki exclaims as if such an age gap means something. “You act as if you’re… twelve” 

“Then we’re all siblings. Geto-san is still the oldest brother, because he is my guardian.” (Megumi takes this term very seriously, Suguru has found out.) “Then goes Gojo, then Tsumiki, and then Nanako, Mimiko and me,” he decides, counting on his fingers for a good measure. 

“Deal!” Satoru high-fives to no response from Megumi. Suguru sees a trail of sweat falling down his temple. 

“Such a big family we are,” Tsumiki remarks with pleasure. 

“Okay, we’re going to wait in the line. You can go ahead and sit there” Suguru points to the wall beyond the payment zone. Satoru helps Megumi out of the cart — lifting him by the arm this time — and they run outside the store through the crowd. 

“There’s also them…” Satoru starts the inevitable discussion, speaking in hushed voice as they’re pausing at the end of the line toward the counters. 

Suguru’s eyes dart to the children who settle on a bench next to the vending machine and a security guard leaning on the wall with a toothpick in his mouth. “Even if we confess and ask them to keep it secret, they are still little kids. It’s not their fault if it slips. If they get bullied for this reason, no teacher would end up on their side” 

“Yeah, living with older brothers sounds plausible.” Satoru rocks the shopping cart back and forth.

They move further down the line along with other customers. There’s a rack with ceramic cups next to the spot where they’ve just settled on. Satoru grabs a cup with a calligraphic “I love you” written in English over a purple heart. He turns the cup to the proper side, showing the writing to Suguru. It provokes an endearing smile, but it falls as soon as Satoru places the cup back, yielding to agitation and sadness. “Satoru…” 

He perks up, forcing a smile. This morning showed that Satoru is just as affected by the circumstances, if not more. “I mean, worst case scenario — we’re gonna wait until they’re around thirteen, and we’re money! By this time they’ll totally be able to process it and keep one secret.” He spreads his hands. “Shit, maybe the world will become a better place by this time”

“You are talking seven to eight year long act.” Suguru mumbles, turning away. 

He often ponders if he’s robbing Satoru of opportunities to live an easier life. He agreed to shoulder huge responsibilities. Suguru has a hard time recognizing where ends his own influence and where Satoru’s genuine deliberation begins. He’s just like that — he loves Suguru too much for his own good. 

He is distracted by a shove to his ribs. Looking up, he sees Satoru scowling. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Satoru, you can have a normal life without adoptees on your back, blah-blah-blah’. Where’s the fucking love? I chose all that and I’m with you for the long haul. How copy?”  

“Copy that.” The lines on his face smoothe. “Give me an unsuspicious hug please”

Satoru wraps a steady arm around his shoulder, conducting the cart with his free hand. “Nailed it,” he says, content with the way he defeated Suguru’s insecurities this time. 

A pair of teenage girls in high school uniforms who are standing ahead turn around and smile at them. “Excuse us, we didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you are such a beautiful couple. As if from a movie” 

Satoru pulls his glasses up immediately and shifts closer to Suguru. “Looking good together, right?” 

Blushing, he moves Satoru’s face away. “You’re enabling him, kind ladies” 

The other girl shows peace signs. “You are such a caring boyfriend, Satoru-san. We wish you and…” 

“My name is Suguru” 

“Wow, even your names match! What are your signs?” 

“Do you know mine?”

“You’re a Sagittarius. I’m an Aquarius. We match” 

“We do?” 

“Yeah, it’s a nice match, indeed” 

“Would you still love me if we didn’t match?” 

“Fuck off” 

The girls chuckle. 

“Ah, it’s our turn to pay. Anyway, we wish you luck!” 

“You’re too kind” 

“Thank you-u-u! You cheered us up!”

“We can even mess with our schedules a little bit,” Satoru follows as they’re waiting for their companions to pay for the vase they picked. “Make this window of time in the afternoon when kids are at school just for us to have indoor dates or whatever” 

“Wait.” Suguru eyes observe the spot where the children are sitting, occupied with a game on Megumi’s brand new cellphone. He leans to Satoru’s ear and whispers, this time, in a surely low volume, “Megumi is shoplifting” 

Megumi’s shikigami dogs are sprawled on the floor under the bench, their mouths stuffed with something. Satoru lowers his glasses to examine what the dogs are hiding. Suguru stares at him, twitching from curiosity. “Tell me, tell me” 

“That’s fucking hilarious. One dog is a matryoshka doll: it has a tiny stuffed dog in its mouth. And the other…” He squints. “What is wrong with this child? He could have asked for a toy and a pack of marshmallows” 

Suguru sniggers. “I mean, they’ve been living on 50 yen and a prayer for a year, who would be surprised?” 

“Right next to the security guy. I swear, little dude will grow into a gangster.” Satoru speaks up. “He already keeps the whole school on its toes. Told me stories of internecine warfare between class A and class C”  

Suguru shrugs. “Genes.” 

The cashier is waiting for them to pay. Satoru swipes his card. “Look at me paying for fam. Yes, Satoru is the breadwinner,” he brags, flexing him arm muscles.

The cashier snorts into her hand, squeezing her eyes from amusement. Suguru puts his palm on Satoru’s back and shoves him ahead. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, silver spoon”  

***

By late evening Satoru finishes arranging the new electronic appliances and cleaning the house. Tsumiki and Megumi volunteered to help him sweep the floor and the dust, even though he tried to free them off of chores. 

“You think we can’t do that? We lived on our own for a year!” Megumi argued. 

“Right. Will we make a schedule? Who washes the dishes and all…” Tsumiki wondered. 

When he told them that they were not going to do anything but go to school and have fun in their free time, Megumi looked at Satoru with genuine respect for the first time ever. 

In the hallway Satoru spots a wide bookshelf filled with old books from his estate’s library, most of them dedicated to sorcery, but some are just antiquated literature. He sees an ancient copy of that book Suguru was reading back in the countryside. 

“No fucking way…” It is signed. By the author — a note to one of Satoru’s deceased distant relatives. This copy must cost a fortune but, obviously, Suguru is going to be ecstatic when he sees that it belongs to them. Satoru places the book on the same spot he took it from, but it falls down then and there. Along with the rest of the bookshelf crashing down. Books are piling under broken wooden shelves and dust flies all around the hall. Having doused the coughing fit, Satoru waves the dust away and recovers the precious Mishima copy.

Tsumiki and Megumi run in to examine the source of noise. ”Oh no! Do you need help?” she asks. 

Satoru slides down on the floor. He shakes his head instinctively, but pauses before voicing a denial. “Actually… I do. Let us check the rest of the furniture.” 

The children are running all around the many rooms at their new home: shaking the shelves, opening closets, jumping on the beds. In the end, Megumi only finds two unreliable chair, while the rest of the old furniture works just fine. 

Satoru recovers all the books from under the broken planks and arranges them along the wall for the meantime. 

“Alrighty! Now it’s time for real fun” 

He uses his technique to carve a pit in the middle of the backyard. Piece by piece, he moves the remains of the shelf there.

With Megumi and Tsumiki for the audience, Satoru casts Red to break the wood into smaller pieces. Tsumiki cheers with each blast, laughing out loud at Satoru mimicking gun noises. 

“Gojo. Can I call the big bird? Don’t tell Geto-san” 

Hooray, they have reached the stage when they hide things from the more strict parent. “Your secret is safe with me, Megumi-kun” 

The bird catches the broken chair, flies high above the yard and throws it into the pile, and its cascade divides from the legs. Megumi repeats the same with the other chair. 

Suguru would slap him for such thoughts, but Satoru can’t help thinking that Megumi’s potential is immense. He conducts Nue very well. 

Proud of himself, Megumi rubs his hands. “Now what?” 

“Step back, okay?” 

First, Satoru brings a bucket of water onto the yard — just in case. He finds gas for Suguru’s reusable lighter in his suitcase, pours it around the pile and lights three matches he found in the kitchen cabinets. 

The three of them follow the escalating fire with their eyes. Satoru chuckles, remembering an old proverb: you can gaze at three things for eternity — at the water flowing, fire burning, and other people working. Tsumiki extends her arms to warm her palms.  

“Oh, almost forgot.” Satoru comes out of the reverie that is watching the tiny flames turn into a genuine fire. “Just one moment. Don’t step too close.” Satoru runs back home and opens his personal suitcase. Rummaging through his clothes — patiently folded by Suguru — he finds two items he needs. 

As soon as he comes back outside, he throws the clothes into the fire and pours a bit more gas on them. The fire grows high, tearing apart Satoru’s uniform jacket and pants. He watches them burn, hoping the flame takes away the danger and humiliation he has lived through while wearing this very outfit. “Shit’s hypnotic…” he murmurs under his breath. 

Megumi startles Satoru as he is focused on the fabric falling apart thread by thread. He wraps his tiny palm around Satoru’s fingers. “Thanks for letting me break stuff.” He gives Satoru a small smile, before moving his glance to admire the fire. Satoru grins from ear to ear. That’s what he was telling Yaga when said he had plenty sources of satisfaction. 

He gets down on one knee and wraps his hand around Megumi’s shoulders. “No biggie.” He traces his shoulder blade gently. “We all need to take the edge off from time to time.”

Looking at the way the boy’s face is shining with the orange resonant light, Satoru concludes once and for all that Toji Fushiguro was the most inane person on earth — for leaving this brilliant child alone. And, of course, he is thanking Suguru for what must be the hundredth time for making him choose the right thing. 

Suguru and the girls find Tsumiki, Satoru and Megumi standing in front of the fire, holding one another’s hands. They land their bags on the terrace and join the rest of the family. The curious children gather to meet each other immediately. 

“Hey psycho.” Suguru leans on Satoru’s shoulder. “What are you burning?” 

“Your mom” 

“Changed my mind. I’m staying at the dorms” 

Nanako runs right to Tsumiki, dragging Mimiko by the hand. “I’m Nanako! And this is my sister Mimiko. We brought you salted vegetables from our grandma” 

“Oh, there are dogs here!” she takes a picture with the phone she has, but sees an empty space on it. 

“Those are mine!” Megumi scoffs. 

“I’m Geto Mimiko.” She bows respectfully. “Can I please pet your dogs?”

In official documents Suguru and the twins indeed are siblings, because just a few days ago his parents finished adopting the girls to lighten various legal cases, health care and registration. The Fushiguros are still nobody’s children, but Suguru and Satoru are hoping they’ll find a way to register them. Megumi’s father is still considered alive, after all. 

He returns the gesture. “Fushiguro Megumi. You can” 

Mimiko courageously approaches the white dog and pets it. Tsumiki watches her brother and brand new sister with glazing eyes. “So I’m the only one who can’t see curses.” She hangs her head. 

Nanako glances at her, gasps and then screams, “Dad! Can we share bedroom with Tsumiki? We want to have a girl place” He wraps her hands tightly around Tsumiki, almost choking her. 

“That was the plan,” Suguru says, making both girls squeal and hold hands in joy. 

“I’ll get my own room,” Megumi smiles to himself.

The four of them gather around the fire, watching it burn in the darkness of the night. Suguru and Satoru are overseeing them from a few steps away. 

He leans to Suguru’s ear and whispers, “I’ve been thinking about you the whole day. About your neck, and your wrists. About your voice and the way you taste” 

Suguru leans and bites into Satoru’s neck, sucking on the skin. Pulling away, he checks his work. “You wanted to compete whose RCT heals hickeys faster. I give you 40 seconds”

”I’ll make it 25” 

*** 

“Suguru-u-u! This channel is boring. Switch to the one with music” 

Mimiko is drawing at the kotatsu table, with Nanako doing homework next to her. Megumi plays with Tsumiki in the yard, practicing basketball moves he saw during Satoru’s first competitive game against another university team.

“But I like this documentary” 

“Pretty please. Washing dishes is so dull” 

“Mimi, Nana! You’re closer to the remote. Find the 27th channel” 

Meanwhile, Suguru is trying to hang the blackout curtains in the living room adjacent to the kitchen. He is standing on his cursed spirit that is looking like a huge caterpillar. He could use a chair, but the curse crawls slowly back and forth, helping him effectively secure the fabric into one hook after the other. 

Once the music fills the room, Satoru screams out, “Oh my GOD. I love Yosui.” The water gets turned off. He almost trips on the corner of the kitchen counter as he sprints toward the TV set. He points at the screen. “That’s who I got the idea to wear sunglasses from”

“Isn’t this a song by Anzen Chitai?” Suguru calls out, concentrating on the hooks. 

“Yes, but he wrote it for them. This is his version” 

Satoru whistles, attracting Suguru’s attention. He holds out his right hand, bowing gallantly. Suguru shakes his head with a sad smile on his face. Disappointed, Satoru strides to the table, distracting the twins. “Your daddy doesn’t want to dance with the good-looking guy Gojo Satoru, so shall one of you pretty ladies give me a dance?” 

“Busy,” Mimiko grumbles, eyes glued to her drawing. She is drawing that boy from the dojo — Samejima, who was most enthusiastic about protecting them at school from the start. She sure has a crush, Suguru remarks bitterly. He learned that he is indeed feeling this fatherly jealousy everyone is talking about when it comes to men who have daughters. 

“I want a dance!” Nanako jumps on her feet. She pauses, pulling at the sleeves of her hoodie. “But I don’t know how to…” 

Suguru climbs off of his cursed spirit to be the audience. 

“Just place your feet on mine and I’ll lead you” 

She complies, and they begin dancing to the melancholic tune. Satoru is holding Nanako by both hands and lets them sway in between the TV set and the table. Nanako is giggling, while her sister stares at them enviously. When the first chorus flows into the second verse, Satoru throws his head up and begins singing with his eyes closed. “Naze… naze anata wa…” 

Why, why can’t you say, “I love you?” 

These unreachable feelings still sway in the night sky. 

When the chorus begins, he picks Nanako up and holds her under her thighs with one hand, gripping her little hand in the other to mimic the positions of slow dancing. He moves around the room and sings up. “Kaze wa kimagure, anata no…”

The capricious you is led astray by the wind. 

The premonition of love just escapes. 

This is how the song is called — Koi no Yokan, premonition of love. Suguru heard that it is a native term, meaning the moment when you meet someone for the first time, but feel that this person is going to be the one you fall in love with. 

Aimless, you wander among the stars 

Seeing the same dream over and over again. 

He is surprised how he has never noticed how musically gifted Satoru was before they moved in. He has a wonderful singing voice and a clear sense of rhythm. 

Suguru takes a picture of Satoru with Nanako in his arms as he looks at her, singing the rest of the chorus. Suguru sends it to his mother, who was texting him three hours ago, asking how he is doing. 

*** 

This is not how Suguru imagined their free afternoons. Satoru promised him indoor dates. He thought they’d at least have sex, or take a nap together. They are both working a lot and betray the healthy standard of sleeping hours. As for intimacy… It’s majorly complicated. 

“Can I help you at least?” 

“No, Bob the builder, read your textbook. I’ve got to learn how to do it” 

Instead, Satoru spends the few vacant hours before work assembling the new bookshelf they ordered. He could hire a furniture store worker to do it, or ask Suguru, but he is persistently following the guidelines and memorizing every step. Needless to say, he’s been tinkering for two hours. 

Suguru is reading a textbook to prepare for entrance exams, settled comfortably under a blanket on the living room armchair behind Satoru’s construction site. He glances at him after finishing every page. Satoru’s working slowly, but all the steps he has already completed he did perfectly. 

Dropping the book on the armrest, Suguru walks up to watch him working. “Baby, I said I don’t need help” 

“Satoru” 

“Mm,” he hums, comparing the details from the guide to the ones he arranged on the floor by shape. “Is this part of the carcass not standing straight?” 

Suguru remains silent, balancing on his heels behind Satoru’s back. 

“What is it!!,” he whines impatiently. 

“I love you” 

Satoru twists his head so fast his neck must hurt. “You really do?” he asks, wide-eyed. 

Frowning in puzzlement, Suguru figures he’s fishing for sugary words. “Hello, we are living together.” He waves a hand. “We are together” 

Satoru turns away and focuses on the instructions printed on a wide piece of paper. Confused, Suguru is waiting for him to react. He doesn’t need to hear him say it back — he knows how Satoru feels, but the blatant absence of a response puzzles him. Until he notices Satoru place his glasses onto the floor, his shoulders shaking. He covers his face with the spread he was holding and cries into it, washing off the black ink of printed illustrations. 

Suguru slides down on one knee next to him in one swift motion. He traces his palm up and down Satoru’s forearm tilting his head to see at least a figment of his face hidden behind the dampening paper. “Hey… I’m sorry that I never said it before,” he speaks in a low, soft voice, “I didn’t mean to keep you in doubt. If you want, I’ll say it more often from now on” 

Satoru wipes the tears with his fist, holding the instruction between trembling fingers. Sucking in a breath, he turns sideways, facing Suguru with a wide smile.  

“I’m so pathetic!” He laughs through tears. Then his smile disappears, only leaving lines on his cheeks where the tears keep trickling. His eyes meet Suguru’s, profound and helpless. “Sorry for this. I know you do. I don’t even need to hear it.” He sniffs loudly between every sentence. “Just got emotional. Our whole thing doesn’t feel real half of the time. I’m the luckiest guy alive”

Satoru sneezes into the paper. “Oh, fuck. Now I can’t build a bookshelf” 

He helps Satoru get up from the floor. “Please let me help you. You’ll still do most of the work, and I’ll just guide you”

Satoru hugs him tightly. “Best date ever” 

“You know, this song you were dancing to reminded me of…” 

Chapter Text

“I lied to you, Satoru. I knew who you were before we met” 

“You did? You asked my name on the day Yaga brought you to school…” 

“You see, my coach and him are good acquaintances. Inoue-sensei used to be his upperclassman. On the day Yaga came to recruit me, first things first, he decided to visit Inoue-sensei, interrogate him about me. He didn’t know I was his disciple. Coincidentally, he met me right at the dojo. We discussed my transfer and… This shelf is hanging by a thread. The screws are loose”

“Your screws are loose, yo. So he was… how did you call it… indoctrinating you!” 

“Right. I knew a thing or two about sorcery institutions, but I never fathomed applying there. I was quite content with my role as the only sorcerer in the village — everyone’s illicit savior and all. It was like a hobby. In all seriousness, I planned to work in the same construction firm as my dad after school” 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Here comes the interesting part. I asked Yaga if there were a lot of sorcerers in Tokyo. Quite a few, he said and added, But if you enroll at Jujutsu Tech this year, you’ll only have one classmate” 

“It was the one and only Gojo Satoru” 

“Yeah, that’s when he turned to Inoue-sensei and asked, all coy and sarcastic, if he wanted to know who that very classmate was. Once Yaga pronounced your name, my coach spit his coffee. Of course, the reaction piqued my curiosity. Here’s the way Inoue-sensei put it, A boy so strong his birth changed the world” 

“What did you say?” 

“I…” 

“Come on. You were jealous, right?” 

“I said it sounded very sad, because in this case, if you show weakness one day, the world would crumble” 

“Oh” 

“The old geezers simply laughed. Yaga said that you wouldn’t be pleased with this kind of compassion; that you didn’t come here to make friends” 

“Now that’s wrong. I was dying to make friends in high school. I was shit out of luck though… Before you came, it was one and the same dynamic as with my jealous peer relatives in the clan. Everyone was either intimidated or ready to fall on their knees beneath the chosen one. Well, I was a cocky motherfucker too, but I was, like, hoping that one day someone would finally put me in my place and challenge me to a fight or something. Wanted to bully people into being my friends, ha!” 

“When Yaga told me that we were estimated as the same grade, it got even worse. Imagine hearing that you’re virtually as good as some young king of sorcery from the capital. Obviously, I was proud of myself. So, all things considered, I agreed to go to this strange technical school because I wanted to befriend you”

“No shit!” 

“This is what I’m talking about. Koi no Yokan. I didn’t know a thing about you, but I felt like we should meet” 

“Then why did you act like you had no idea?” 

“I don’t know… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if we were a clean slate. It was upsetting: how could a teacher say that you didn’t need friends. Everyone needs friends. I figured it was all because you were some kind of legend. I wanted to approach you in a different way. You know my contrarian nature. I’m always itching to go against the flow”  

“Of course it was you, Suguru. Fuck. As if I had a choice” 

“When I arrived you were sitting on the top of the torii gates. You landed in front of us once I climbed the stairs and began peering at me. You told me I had an insane cursed energy output. I should have questioned how you could learn about my technique just by looking at me, but I was in another headspace.”

“Aw, love at first sight! Was it? Was it?” 

“No, hear me out. I was a country knucklehead, alright? But most importantly, I was the tallest country knucklehead at my school. Like, no one even stood a chance. I always wanted to date someone as tall as me, or even taller. I was salivating over American rockstars. So as an ignorant child, I was one hundred percent sure that lots of foreigners are living in Tokyo. And foreigners are supposed to be tall. That was the plan: I’m going meet an exotic stranger in the streets, he shall fall for my classic Japanese charm and I’ll get me a tall British or, I don’t know, Norwegian boyfriend” 

“Your thought process is genuinely haunting. It’s good that Nanami is a year younger…” 

“And what do you think? On the very first day in this capital city Gojo fucking Satoru stumbles into my world in his one-ninety meter tall, white-haired glory. I was on cloud nine the moment when you tugged down your glasses and began staring at me with these eyes of yours” 

“You didn’t show it, though! You acted all uncomfortable with the way I was in your personal space” 

“Well, throwing myself at you right off the bat would be plain undignified” 

“When you asked my name, I was so psyched. Finally I could make a first impression on someone!” 

“But your way of making it was…” 

“My eyes examined your technique and I decided to tease you. Told you to summon a curse to prove you’ve really got Cursed Spirit Manipulation”

“Which I did and the alarms went crazy” 

“Yaga looked like he was ready to send you back” 

“And then you killed my curse! Such a jerk. I liked that one… I wanted to impress my crush with a cool curse…”

“You got so pissed! You summoned that huge white worm and it dragged me outside of the barrier. Once you released it, you pinned me to the ground and began flirting with me”

“I wasn’t flirting! It was a threat” 

“Don’t you play with us rednecks, Gojo-kun. I’ve got a whole gang back home. I’m very skilled at turning brats into men”  

“I admit, that was cheesy” 

“I was fucking ecstatic! Once we came back, bruised and all, Yaga immediately sent us on a mission together” 

“The worst mission of my life. You didn’t let me make a single move. Tried to save me as if I were a damsel in distress” 

“You yelled at me for getting in your way. Trapped me inside your curse again!” 

“I swear, I wasted half of my artillery on you in the first week of our acquaintance” 

“Of course. You had to send some snake to get my ass when I told the staff that I wanna change my uniform jacket into the same model as yours” 

“I’m never forgiving that, ever. You got in the way of my individuality. Kyoto folks were laughing their asses off when we booked to the exchange event like a pair of vigilantes from comic books” 

“You’re talking as if I copied your oh so original outfit from head to toe. I’d rather wear Shoko’s skirt than these hideous pants” 

“At least I have my own style. Your wardrobe is generic as hell” 

“My natural charm don’t need no props. Does it look right? I think it’s nice and firm now” 

“See? You did it. Good job” 

“Let’s stuff it. I’m tired of tripping on that pile of books every time I’m passing through this hallway. So that was it? You fell in love with me for my good looks? That’s shallow, Suguru. What if I get ugly one day?” 

“You’ve just finished talking about your natural charm. How exactly are you going to get ugly? Even if someone splashed acid in your face, you’d just regenerate”

“Hell knows, maybe I’ll age badly” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I liked you, but I only wanted to be your friend at first. I got thrown into this whole new environment, people had expectations for us. After all, I had no idea if you even liked men. You didn’t seem to express interest in neither. Still… I never stopped feeling dizzy around you. I suppose I fell in love with you on the day you took me to that cemetery. I was so upset that despite having a traditional family grave, there was one prepared specifically for you. A grave with the name of a fifteen year old boy waiting to be used. Sent chills down my spine. I began understanding that a sorcerer dying is a daily occurrence. Needless to say, it didn’t support my fragile teenage dream of being together with you. One of us could die on the next day. Don’t you dare die, Geto. We’ve got a whole life ahead of us, you said, as if you were reading my mind. Suddenly I got so afraid of it. It was kind of ungrateful and sentimental — I wasn’t worried about my parents finding out about my death, but I was terrified at the prospect of leaving alone the guy I met two weeks ago. That’s when I realized that I was down bad”

“I don’t want this grave anymore. I refuse to be buried anywhere but next to you. No matter who—” 

“Okay, we discussed the old age, now let’s call the notary… Satoru, really. We are eighteen. We don’t think about it. And what do you mean, buried? It was a symbolic gravestone. Only a fool would actually bury bodies. Or a christian, which you are not” 

“Ashes just don’t fit. Even if someone mixes ours up in one urn. I’d like my flesh to rot next to yours, and our bones to be scattered haphazardly. It’s like these prehistoric graves where archaeologists can’t tell one hip bone from the other” 

“We carry residuals with us. If I died, I would lose my ability to hide them”

“And what would they do if they trace us? Sell my body parts on the black market? Two Great Gojo Satoru’s incisors for the price of one!” 

“It’s still against the protocol. I mean, what’s in it for you? You’ll be dead” 

“You have no idea of sentimental value” 

“Bitch, please. I’m dating a sentimental value. You suck at house-keeping and you eat more than all of us combined. You forget to raise the toilet seat, too. That’s disgusting” 

“I told you I’m working on it. We’ve been using communal toilets for three years. Habits take time” 

“Back to the cemetery. I looked at you then and I saw that you were afraid of dying, too. I was proved once again that you were a human being, not an idea. Mythical heroes, mighty daimyo and samurai are supposed to look forward to their death” 

“I imagined you finding out about my death, too. It seemed so unfair — I finally made a friend and anything could take it away from us. That’s why I offered to train harder from that moment on. I wanted us both to be secure” 

“It is only then when I let you teach me Falling Blossom Emotion. Until then I didn’t get why would I need anti-domain techniques if I never planned to fight sorcerers. I came here to save people”

“Yeah, and then it grew organically into our ‘Strongest’ era” 

“Aggravated ego era, you mean” 

“If someone calls me ‘the strongest’ again, I’ll fucking puke”

“Hm, why? You know I don’t mind admitting that you’re objectively a stronger sorcerer than me” 

“That’s the whole point. It means being the strongest sorcerer — nothing else” 

“Gojo Satoru, you are a man full of surprises. I should’ve recorded that” 

“Oh, I used to save your voice messages. I put a lot of thought to it. When someone dies, they usually leave pictures and letters behind, various possessions, too. Some scents — deodorant, detergent, favorite flavor, the smell of the places you’ve been to. As for the voice — if someone is dead long enough you forget the sound of their voice. I was preserving that — in case you got killed” 

“You’re thinking about death again. Don’t make it morbid. Show me the last voice message you saved” 

“Hmm. February 2006. Let’s see” 

You’re not picking up. Are you still on the mission? Haibara, Nanami and I want to play volleyball. We need you for Haibara’s team. I wanted to be paired with you, but in this case we’ll wipe the floor with them, you know? Call me back. 

“The confidence, ha-ha!” 

“Wait, I have some too. March 2006” 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru! Buy the fresh Jump on your way home. But don’t you dare read it then and there!! Promise that we’ll read it together. I bought bentos.

“Both messages are from a few months before meeting Riko-chan…” 

“Now you’re thinking about death. Back to our topic. I didn’t even entertain the thought that I loved you like this until Shoko arrived” 

“I still remember it. I’m Ieiri Shoko… Wait… Getou and Gojo… Suguru and Satoru. The hell is that? How am I supposed to memorize these?” 

“I was losing my mind from jealousy. I was pretending I had no idea how friendship works. Of course I was sheltered and no one wanted to be friends with me, but even from the movies and from gazing at people in the streets I knew that it’s not rare that they gather in friend groups, have lots of friends at once and all. I began questioning why I was feeling like I should be someone special to you. I wanted to be your only one, to have a place only I can occupy” 

“Your first maneuver was announcing that we are best friends in front of her and calling me by my given name for the first time. Y’know, Shoko pulled me to the side for a smoke on the same day when you got sent on a mission. She was lamenting that she was thrown into one class with two childhood friends. I said that we met one month ago and she wouldn’t believe it, ha-ha!” 

“Oh I was such an asshole. I tried to snatch you away from her all the time. Until I found myself thinking, What if Suguru wanted to date her. At first the idea comforted me because this way she would occupy the position of a girlfriend, and I’d be your best friend — everyone’s gonna be satisfied. I was eager to help you somehow, but it made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t bear imagining you holding hands and all. When she told me to stop trying to hook you up because she’d never fall for either of us, I was beyond relieved”

“Your attempts sobered me up. I decided to begin courting you, all the risk involved! Coffee shops, movies, museums. We even held hands once, remember?”

“On the bridge. We also slept in one bed like, all the time. I loved hugging you while you were asleep” 

“I wanted to kiss you so bad every time our faces were close” 

“How would you kiss me?” 

“Like this” 

“Well, my fifteen year old self would have fainted or finished in his pants, but present Satoru is spoiled. Not enough” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Better. Still not enough” 

“We’ll never finish this if I go further” 

“But I want more!” 

“So when did you realize you like me?” 

“I mean, it was so sporadic. I even opened a few chronicles at my clan library along the way — to see if some ancient ancestors had gay relationships. They did, too. It was described in the nastiest words possible. The last nail to the coffin was this movie you called your favorite. I ran to the DVD rental like my life depended on it” 

“It wasn’t even my favorite. Just the only movie about gay people that I found interesting. I was testing you. If you were disgusted by a movie about two men in love, I’d tap out and… cry myself to sleep for the next three years” 

“It was the first movie I have ever cried at. At this moment when the good guy was saying, ‘We were happy together’ reminiscing about that awful relationship he had with the bad guy” 

“You were so adorable when you came to my room with the DVD cover in trembling hands and screamed, Why would he treat his love like this? Well, soon I found out about your feelings. When you asked if I ever kissed someone. You said that you had someone you really-really liked. But you had no chance to kiss that person anytime soon. I asked why and you said—“

“This person is so much better than me. I need to deserve them and maybe they will like me back”

“I knew it was about me. But my resolve crumbled in an instant. I was afraid that we would never pull it off. I was hoping that we survive until graduation and get together once we were independent” 

“Well, that’s exactly what we did in the end, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah… I crave a cigarette now. Join me?” 

“Sure” 

“This heart-shaped ashtray is something else” 

“I think this fireplace was a great idea. Looks so cozy. Kids like frying marshmallows and exchanging scary stories” 

“Yeah, and then Mimiko crawls into my bed and cries herself to sleep. She’s so impressionable — an artist’s personality. Hey, what are you doing?” 

“Wanna make my baby boy feel good while he’s enjoying a smoke” 

“No, wait. You don’t have to” 

“Suguru, you’re a handful, really. You never let me take care of you. I won’t stop trying regardless. Is that my underwear?” 

“It is? Got mixed up I guess” 

“That’s borderline weird, but erotic nonetheless. I like that we share clothes. Does something for me” 

“Yeah, now I know why you’re so hell-bent on me gaining weight. It’s really unsettling that I can wear your pants like it’s nothing. It’s not natural for me to be this skinny” 

“So you know about my schemes?” 

“Of course, dipshit… Thank you” 

“Do you know what I love most when we’re in bed? It’s not even the orgasm, and you always make me finish first. I love to watch you chasing your own high. It feels so good to be the one who gives you pleasure” 

“Fuck” 

“Just enjoy yourself, okay?” 

“I once saw you… during the break. You were rehearsing the writing… the writing of my name. Wrote it over and over. Then you wrote your name next to mine and added this little plus sign between the names… Ah. Then you tested how my given name looks next to your last name. It was on purpose, right? There’s no way… no way your eyes didn’t spot me stalking on you and your little copybook. Fuck, I’m close. Pull… pull away” 

“No” 

“Satoru” 

“That’s it. You’re so hot, you can’t even imagine” 

“Taking a drag at that moment feels amazing. Kiss me” 

“You’ve got to quit one day” 

“I’ll quit if Shoko does”

“Never, then?” 

“When you’re doting on me… it makes my knees go weak. You care so much” 

“I’m not selfless like you, but I’m generous with certain people. To you, I’ll give anything. Name it and it’s yours” 

“Shit, we need to go. When are you coming home tonight?” 

“Bleh, I have like… four missions in a row, so 10PM perhaps?” 

“Midnight for me. I’m going far. The leftovers are in the fridge, alright? 

“I can teleport and bring you back once you’re done” 

“Long distance exhausts you” 

“True, but it’s getting better. I’ve been training it. It’s like… the most useful thing for me now. I wouldn’t mind some practice” 

“I’ll think about it. Should I send you my location or what?” 

“Suguru, I could locate your cursed energy even if you were on the dark side of the moon. Just text me when you need me”