Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hello, Satoru.”

The white-haired sorcerer turned his head. 

There he was. In his stupid monk robe, with that stupid sadistic grin on his face.

“Suguru. ”

Satoru kept a neutral face, but internally he grimaced. He didn’t sense Suguru’s presence until the raven-haired curse user spoke.

This is bad. Were his senses getting duller? Or was Suguru getting better at concealing his cursed energy?

“Always the bitter reception.” Suguru let out a dramatic sigh as he walked toward Satoru, the dark blue fabric of his robe flaunted behind him. “Tell me, will we ever meet under better circumstances?”

“Not until you give up your little cult leader act.” Satoru crossed his arms. 

The cult leader in question chuckled. “Such a shame… Well, it's not like I expected you to see my vision after all these years.”

Surguru’s voice carried through the partially wall-less room in the abandoned building. A couple of small grade four cursed spirits lurked in the shadows, clinging to the worn down bricks, but none of them dared approach. Even though the two men were suppressing their cursed energy, the low level creatures instinctively knew not to get any closer.

It wasn’t Satoru’s first choice of location, but the cult leader’s home, or temple, was too risky. Too many curse users wandered those halls, and despite what Suguru claimed about his new “family”, curse users could be bought. Satoru’s apartment wasn’t any better, in the thick of Tokyo, where auxiliary managers were buzzing around like flies.

No where was safe for the curse user with a death sentence and the sorcerer who was supposed to carry out said death sentence.

So an abandoned building on the outskirts of Kiryu, nearly eighty miles from Tokyo, it was. 

Without another word. Suguru closed the distance between them, his hands reaching for Satoru’s hips. He leaned forward so that his lips grazed the sorcerer's ears. “That’s not what these little meetings are for, are they?”

Satoru’s breath hitched at the immediate closeness. 

And — without thinking — he brought his hands forward and shoved the other man away from him.

The raven-haired curse user stumbled a few feet backwards before he ever-so- fucking -gracefully regained his balance.

Suguru stood there, the soft white light from the moon poured in from the semi-collapsed ceiling, highlighting the curse user’s face. 

His stupid… picturesque face.

The face that abandoned him all those years ago.

The face that, despite how hard he tried to forget, was etched behind his eyelids.

“This again?” Suguru chided. "If you didn't want me to get close, you wouldn't have lowered your infinity."

Satoru huffed, a sour look crossed his face. 

Six months… It had been six months since Satoru reconnected with the sorcerer turned curse user. Their reunion was sudden, and frankly unceremonious. Satoru was sent on a mission to exorcize a special grade curse — a curse Suguru was tracking down as well. The school didn’t know of the cult leader’s plans when they sent Satoru… heck Suguru Geto had been off their radar for years at that point. 

No one noticed how much stronger the curse user turned cult leader had become. 

“Tell me Satoru,” he continued, “when will you stop torturing yourself and just let go ?”

Satoru paused, which gave Suguru the opportunity to close the distance again, this time from behind. His one arm snaked around Satoru’s chest, the other wrapped around his hips, his fingers tantalizing close to the already semi-erect hardness between Satoru’s thighs.

His body tensed.

The rational part of him wanted to repel Suguru. Break away and run. Teleport. Yeah, he could teleport away.

Better yet he could end things here and now. 

But—

He couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped his lips. 

Satoru Gojo. The head of the renowned Gojo clan. The inheritor of the Limitless technique and the Six Eyes.

The strongest.  

If only they could see him now.

If only they knew his one weakness.

The raven-haired curse user let his hand travel down further until he was palming Satoru’s erection over his pants, his breath hot on the sorcerer’s neck.

“Tck don’t—“ Satoru grimaced as he felt Suguru's lips suck on the soft skin there. “—leave marks.”

Suguru turned the white-haired sorcerer around and slammed him against the brick wall. 

“I’ll leave marks wherever I choose.”

And with that he ripped Satoru’s jacket open. The cold evening air hit his exposed chest forcefully, sending shivers down his spine. 

Suguru kissed him, hot and breathless. His fingers trailed down Satoru’s chest, his other hand tightly gripping Satoru’s waist. Satoru moaned into the kiss, his fingers raked through Suguru’s hair, grasping at his silky black locks.

Their lips crashed against each other mercilessly, one would pull away to catch their breath for only a second before the other chased them down. Teeth crashing down against lips, tongues intertwined. 

Hungry.

Desperate.

Suguru used both hands to pull at the hem of Satoru’s pants.

And without warning the sorcerer was spun around again, this time more forcefully. His cheek scraped against the brick wall.

Suguru remained pressed up against him as he dug a clear vile out of his robe.

“I still can’t believe you carry that around.” Satoru let out a mirthless chuckle. “You do this often?”

“Why do you ask?” Suguru coaxed as he coated his fingers with the clear liquid. He tucked the bottle away and began rubbing his index finger around the sorcercer’s rim. “Jealous?”  

Satoru quickly inhaled. “Not likely.” He jabbed back — or attempted to. It fell flat, considering the compromising position he was in.

Suguru chuckled as he continued to outline the sensitive skin down there. Satoru whined, pushing himself against the curse user, his desperation on full display.

He couldn’t help himself. When it came to Suguru…

He didn’t have to wait much longer before Suguru granted his wish and stuck one of his long slender fingers inside Satoru.

“Fuck.” the sorcerer whimpered, biting down on his lip.

With his other hand, the raven-haired curse user snaked his fingers up Satoru’s chest, mapping out the dips and divots of the white-haired man’s torso. Then he moved his hand even farther up and wrapped his fingers around Satoru’s throat.

Satoru turned his head so their lips would meet. The sorcerer moaned into this kiss, a pathetic high-pitched noise. His body fully betrayed the strong front he tried to put on earlier. It began acting its own accord, hips moving back and forth to create friction. 

Soon after, Suguru slipped a second finger in. Then a third. Satoru felt himself open up to it, giving into the intrusion. Welcoming it . 

“Suguruuuu…”

Just as Satoru started to move his hips faster, the curse user removed his fingers, causing a morose whine from the receiving party.

Suguru chuckled. “Patience, Satoru.” 

He heard the vile, this time Suguru rubbed the sheer liquid over his member. He adjusted his robe so that the sorcerer felt it, hot and demanding on his back. 

Suguru began kissing his neck again, soft wet kisses as he guided his erection to align with Satoru’s entrance.

The sorcerer gasped when he felt it.

His entire body clenched.

Suguru leaned forward, his lips grazed the shell of the white-haired man’s ear.

“Breathe.” He cooed.

Satoru did as instructed, relaxing the muscles in his body. As he did, Suguru slowly moved his hips forward. 

“You’re such a good boy.”

Satoru shuddered.

Suguru gripped the sorcerer’s hips and slid in and out. Slow at first, but rougher with each thrust. Each movement of his hips eliciting a gasp from the white-haired sorcerer. 

Eventually the raven-haired curse user found a maddening rhythm. 

“Yes!” Satoru flung his head back, which Suguru took as an invitation to tease his neck again. His teeth sank deep into the soft pale flesh there.

Satoru could feel his lover everywhere. His lips on his neck. His hands all over his exposed torso. His hips colliding with the sorcerer’s bare skin, over and over again. The front of his thighs making contact with the back of Satoru’s. 

Satoru moaned, his entire body red with heat. 

Suguru then leaned forward and grabbed Satoru’s erection, sending another shudder through the white-haired man.

To be the strongest was to be untouchable. So to be touched, touched like this …

It was raw. It was messy.

It was intoxicating.

“Don’t stop!” The sorcerer pleaded.

With one hand working Satoru’s cock, Suguru placed his other hand over Satoru’s mouth. “Can’t have you alerting the whole town now can we?” He hissed. But the feeling of the curse user’s warm palm against his mouth only caused Satoru to moan loader, his cries of pleasure muffled.

Pathetic.

And then Suguru’s pace quickened.

“Su-gu— ruuuu…” The white-haired sorcerer uttered when the curse user removed his hand from over his mouth. He could barely say his lover’s name, his mind was clouded with the sensation below his waist. His legs began to tremble.

“Fuck Satoru.” The curse user growled, digging his fingers deep into Satoru’s hips. It was primal, and Satoru loved every second of it.

He could feel it. The build up. The crescendo of pleasure coursing through him. 

More.

More.

Until finally—

“Ahhh—!!” Satoru couldn’t hold it in. His orgasm struck him like lightning below his waist — sudden, hot, euphoric. He squeezed his eyes shut, cries of pleasure spilling out of his chest, like the breaking of a dam. He knees buckled, threatening to give out from the sheer force of it.

Suguru grunted, giving another couple rough pumps before he came undone as well. He grabbed Satoru’s hair and pulled the sorcerer’s head back as he released himself with a howl.

The two of them toppled over the edge together, riding out their orgasm until they were stiff. Nothing but sweaty skin and shaky breaths. 

The sound of their labored breathing filled the space between them. 

Suguru pulled out, eliciting a small whimper from the white-haired man. He quickly came to his senses and pulled up his pants, clearing his throat as he buttoned himself back up.

Fuck. The sorcerer felt light-headed. Fuck.

“Pleasure as always.” Satoru wasn’t facing him, but he could hear the grin in Suguru’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah." Satoru ran his hands through his hair, still trying to catch his breath. 

Trying to feign nonchalance. 

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

Satoru rolled his eyes, but when he turned around to respond, the curse user was already gone.

Chapter Text

The water ran ice-cold down Satoru’s body. 

He stood in the shower with his arm braced against the granite wall, his wet hair hung in strands in front of his face.

He was hoping the cold water would help shock his senses, help bring him back to reality. With his Infinity turned off, he felt every drop of ice water hit his exposed skin.

Exposed skin that was tainted, touched in ways he—

His reverse curse technique healed the bruises Suguru made on his neck, his hips...

But it did nothing to rid his mind of that god damn cult leader.

“Pleasure as always”

That fucking—

He hastily cleaned his body. Each body part he cleaned he was reminded of Suguru, the soap running over the same peaks and valleys the curse user’s hand did only a day ago. 

It was sickening.

There wasn’t enough soap to rid him of it. To wash away his transgressions. 

Suguru’s residuals clung to him like a second skin.

After god knows how long later, the sorcerer stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. His wet feet padded across the tiled floor of his bathroom.

And that’s when he heard it, his phone buzz at the edge of the sink.

He looked over and saw a random number flashed across his screen. 

Could it be?

Before he had time to process, he lifted the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?”

"Hey Gojo.”

Satoru paused.

It wasn’t Suguru.

He should’ve known. Suguru never called him, only texted.

“Who’s this?” The sorcerer grumbled.

“It’s Nanami. I need to talk to you”

Satoru paused. “Nanami…” He raked his brain for a moment until he put it together, realized who he was talking to.

“Nanami Kento?”

“Yes.” The voice on the other end of the speaker was matter-of-fact. “I want to stop by Jujutsu High tomorrow.”

Huh?

Satoru stood there dumbfounded.

Maybe it was his secret affair finally causing him to snap, or just the delirium from lack of sleep (sleep he convinced himself he didn't need). Whatever it was, the Gojo heir stood alone in his bathroom and without warning — burst into laughter.

He could hear Nanami’s frown through the phone.

“Why are you laughing?”

“You wanted to see me?”

Principal Yaga sat at the front of the candle lit room, petting one of his creepy cursed corpses. The small bear-like creature looked like a stuffed animal someone would sell in a horror-themed gift shop.

“Yeah.” Satoru stood in the middle of the room, placing his hands in the pocket of his uniform. “Does the name Kento Nanami ring a bell?”

“Nanami…” The old man hummed. “Yeah I remember him. Why do you ask?”

“He reached out to me the other day, wants to come back.”

“Hmmmm…” The old man thought for a moment. The twelve inch sickly-blue creature in his lap snored lazily. “Been a while since we had a returning sorcerer.”

“Pfftt yeah. Not many people are crazy enough to get into this profession, let alone leave and come back.”

Yaga let out a dry chuckle. “True.” There was a moment of silence between the two men. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to allow him to come back.” The principal continued. “Can you schedule a meeting with him?”

“Sure thing.” Satoru obliged. 

“Okay, let me talk to him first. Then if the rest of the higher ups agree to it, I’ll have you do a brief training with him. Just send me your assessment of his abilities after your training session and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good to me.” Satoru shrugged, turning to leave. 

Before the old man could say anything else, the white-haired sorcerer was already out the door. 

Satoru never had a great relationship with Principal Yaga, or any of the higher ups. At least Yaga was better than that old fart in Kyoto. 

If anything, Yaga was just a puppet for the higher ups. 

Sure Satoru took orders from him. Yaga was the principal, and Satoru was a teacher. In that way, it wasn’t much different from a regular highschool. But their formalities ended there. They tolerated each other at best. 

He didn’t always have this disdain for his former teacher, but after Suguru left…

He never looked at Yaga the same.

A few days later, Satoru stood with his back leaned against the stone pillar of the school’s entrance. The late November air had a biting chill to it, rustling what few leaves remained on the tree-lined walkway.

In the distance, he saw a blonde man approach. The man was nothing like the lanky Kento Nanami who left five years ago. This man had filled out, all broad shoulders and biceps. Even his face was more chiseled. 

His hair was the same color, but he replaced his egregiously long side bang with an undercut similar to Satoru’s.

“Nanami Kento.” Satoru whistled when the shorter man stopped in front of him. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

The blonde looked down at his watch, a concerned look etched on his face. “I’m on time, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but I just didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Nanami looked up at the entrance of the school, his brow creasing even further. “Neither did I.” he muttered.

“Well, welcome back! ” Satoru put on his signature teacher voice as he gestured to the campus in front of him. He began walking toward Yaga’s office, Nanami a step behind him.

The meeting with Yaga went… exactly as expected. The principal grilled the younger man, questioning why he wanted to return, his morals, etc. Satoru stood in the corner with his arms crossed, watching the interaction play out. In the end, Nanami received his blessing. 

Of course. 

“You know we’re gonna be training today right?” Satoru turned his head as they exited Yaga’s room. Behind his blindfold he eyed Nanami up and down. “Did you bring a change of clothes? If not, we probably have a spare suit that will fit you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” The white-haired man shrugged. Only a couple minutes later, they arrived at the school’s dojo. “You ready?”

”...Aaaaand done!”

After two and half hours of sparing and cursed energy output, Nanami placed his hands on his knees, panting.

“You did well.” Satoru mused. “I’ll send my notes to the higher ups, but I'd say you're fit to go on missions.”

Nanami stood up straight. “Thank you, Gojo.” He replied, his breath still a bit staggered.

“Don’t thank me, I had to ask that old geezer Yaga after all. But I know the higher ups are grateful to have another semi grade-one sorcerer to send on missions.”

Nanami only nodded in response. 

The two exited the dojo into the hallway of the school building. Satoru headed to one of the vending machines against the wall. “Want one?” He asked the blonde. “On me.” 

“No thanks.” Nanami held his hand up. “Not much for sweet stuff.”

“Why does that not surprise me.” Satoru muttered to himself as he selected his order. “Sooo…” The white-haired sorcerer asked as he cracked open the can of cola, the tsk sound of the carbonation echoed around them. “Why’d you come back?”

Nanami paused for a moment. “It’s a long story... Let’s just say, being a company man wasn’t for me.”

“Huh.” Satoru hummed thoughtfully. “Well I can’t argue with that logic, being stuck in an office sounds painfully boring.” He shuddered thinking of himself in a suit like the man next to him. Sitting in a small office chair typing numbers on a computer all day — or whatever company men did. 

“Yeah, I don’t think it would suit you.” Nanami chuckled.

It took two weeks for the higher ups to send Nanami on his first mission.

Satoru stood with Nanami and Ichji in front of an abandoned high school. It was early morning, the faint sound of chirping birds filled the space around them.

“…And therefore,” the small statured man came to the end of his rant, “we need to exorcize this cursed spirit before it kills any more people.”

Satoru felt a buzz in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and glanced down at it.

It was a text from Suguru — or the burner phone the cult leader texted from.

It was an address, with the word “tonight?” typed underneath. 

He looked at the address. It was in Ota, about fifty miles from where they were. A bit closer to Tokyo than he would’ve preferred but…

Satoru double-tapped the message before quickly shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Gojo, were you even listening?” The auxiliary manager quipped, his thin brow furrowed.

The white-haired sorcerer waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, grade two curse… save the innocent, blah blah blah. Just lift the veil already, will ya?”

Ichji mumbled something under his breath before sighing and interlocking his fingers. "Emerge from the darkness, blacker still. Purify that which is impure.”

An inky blackness spread over the blue sky above them, the cursed technique separating the two sorcerers from Ichiji.

Nanami stared up at the altered sky. “I forgot how creepy veils are.” He mumbled.

Satoru scoffed. 

The pair walked through the hallway of the abandoned high school. Papers and candy wrappers littered the floor beneath them. The poster boards that lined the hallway were covered with faded pictures of students and teachers alike. 

They entered what appeared to be the school’s gymnasium. And suddenly—

With a loud CRASH, the cursed spirit they were looking for fell from the ceiling.

The ugly lizard-like creature immediately charged them, red eyes narrowed in on its targets. Its purple scales glinted in the low light as it moved, yellow teeth barred. 

The established sorcerer jumped up and perched himself on one of the basketball hoops above. He let his leg dangle over the metal rim, watching the scene play out below him.

Nanami quickly darted to the right, dodging the creature’s attack. He pulled his cleaver from the strap on his back, the muscles under his beige suit jacket rippling as he did so.

Oh. 

Satoru didn’t attempt to hide his gaze, his eyes were hidden under a blindfold after all.

And the sorcerer below had other things to worry about. 

Nanami was fast, but so was the cursed spirit. After some back and forth, the curse whipped around, its tail slammed Nanami directly in the torso. The blow knocked the buff blonde back about fifteen feet, forcing him to crash into the wall with a sickening thud.

And yet Satoru didn’t move.

This was Nanami's mission. He would intervene if the sorcerer was gravely injured, but so far...

After a moment Nanami got up, wiping the blood from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was an air to him in that moment. An influx in cursed energy he hadn’t seen during training.

No, it wasn’t an influx of cursed energy, it was a change in cursed energy. It was more refined, focused, 

It was—

The creature charged him again, but this time the blonde sorcerer just stood there.

What’s he up to?

As soon as the enemy reached him, Nanami dropped down and slid underneath the belly of the beast, cutting one of its legs off with his cleaver. 

The creature howled. It tried to turn around to attack, this time much slower with one less appendage. Its claws struck the empty space where its enemy once was.

Nanami darted to the side, running up the side of the wall as he did so. Then he leaped a good two meters in the air and landed on the back of the purple-scaled cursed spirit.

The beast flailed, but it was no use. The blonde semi grade-one sorcerer reached from behind and sliced the creature's neck, dark purple blood spurting from the wound.

The cursed spirit let out a screech before it vanished.

Nanami flicked his cleaver, the creatures blood splattering off the black and white spotted weapon onto the wooden floor.

Damn. Satoru couldn’t help but stare again. 

Something about it. Something about him…

He always felt no one matched his league since Suguru left. Sure Nanami wasn't a special grade sorcerer, not by a long shot. But something about his presence....

It was the same feeling he felt the first time he went on a mission with Suguru, the first time he watched the raven-haired man fight.

As if sensing the white-haired sorcerer’s thoughts, Nanami turned around and looked up. He adjusted his green-tinted goggles, a cocky grin crossed his chiseled face.  

“You’re not normally at a loss for words, cat got your tongue?”

Satoru felt like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. He jumped down from the basketball hoop silently. 

“Of course not.” He coughed into his hand, holding the gesture would hide the blush creeping at his cheeks. “I’m just… impressed.” He muttered. “That’s all.”

The blonde sorcerer raised a brow at him, but before he could respond, the veil was lifted.

Chapter Text

“Hah!” Maki lunged at the blonde sorcerer.

“Go Maki!” Panda yelled. Yuta cheered, and even Inumaki silently clapped alongside them. 

The young girl and older blonde man spared back and forth. Nanami was a bit clumsy with a spear, clearly preferring the short blunt cleaver he normally fought with. 

And it showed when Maki knocked the weapon out of his hand — and hardly a second later — knocked him off his feet.

“Wow, Nanami sure is strong.” Yuta piped up beside his teacher. The student of hardly two weeks stared at the blonde wide-eyed. “I can hardly last two minutes in a sparring match with Maki.”

“You will someday.” Satoru patted him on the shoulder. “Nanami’s not that strong.”

“I can hear you, Gojo.” Nanami shot back. He didn’t look over at them, but his tone sent shivers down Satoru’s spine. 

Once Nanami was on his feet, he shook hands with Maki.

After a couple more sparring matches, Satoru let the students go for the day. The kids waved goodbye to the two older men before they headed back to their dorms.

Nanami had been helping Satoru train the first years for the past couple of weeks. He started leaning in while Satoru was busy getting Yuta enrolled, jumping through hoops with the higher ups. Nanami wasn’t an official teacher, but neither Yaga nor the existing students seemed to mind his presence.

It was… nice. Having Nanami around. Satoru was the only teacher at the Tokyo campus. Sure he had his students, and other sorcerers stopped by every once in a while, but he appreciated the blonde’s company.

“They’re good kids.” Nanami remarked once they were alone. 

“Of course they are, they’re strong too. They’re gonna give those old hags at the top a run for their money.”

The shorter man beside him sighed. “They may be training to be Jujustu sorcerers, but they’re still just kids… Don’t forget that.”

Satoru saw the look that crossed Nanami’s face. The teacher turned and watched his students as they faded into the distance, his hands in his pockets.

“I know.” His voice lowered. “If it were up to the higher ups, Maki wouldn’t even be here, and Yuta would be dead.” Satoru curled his fist in his pocket. “Try as those bastards might, no one deserves to take youth away from the young.”

Nanami looked over at Satoru, his eyes softened. “I agree.” 

“By the way,” Nanami started as they began walking, a slight change in tone. “Ieri invited me to Utahime’s birthday party this weekend. Are you… going?”

“Going?” Satoru rolled his eyes. “I just found out this morning she’s throwing it at my apartment.” He recalled the school’s doctor cornering him right before training, begging him if they could use his apartment, since hers was — in her words — too small.

Nanami snorted. “You don’t seem too thrilled about it.”

“It’s fineee. I don’t mind using my apartment. I’m hardly there anyway. I’m just…” he scratched the back of his head. “…not a big fan of drinking parties.” He muttered the last part.

“Drinking parties?” The blonde raised a brow at him.

“Yeah you know, parties where people drink!” Satoru threw his hands up. “What else would you call them?”

Nanami snorted “I’m not sure, but I’ve never heard anyone call them that. ”

“Pfft whatever.” Satoru shoved the blonde. Nanami chuckled, letting himself be pushed before continuing to walk alongside the white-haired man.

“Sooo…” Satoru started, trying to keep his tone neutral, casual. “Are you coming?” 

Not that he cared, but…

“Yeah…” Nanami responded slowly. “I think it’d be good to get to know the other sorcerers.”

“Well, I know a couple of them that want to get to know you.” He thought of Mei Mei, the fellow white-haired sorcerer who had no shame asking him if the “newbie” was single.

A puzzled look crossed the blonde’s face. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nanami! Nanami!”

The group cheered as Nanami downed his sixth? seventh? drink. Satoru had lost count, and from the looks of it, so had Nanami.

American drinking games. Satoru rolled his eyes. America might not be the brightest country, but they sure came up with innovative ways to get drunk. 

“Why is it so hard to throw a little ball into a goddamn cup?” Nanami grumbled as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, placing the empty red cup in question down on the counter.

“Don't worry Nanami.” Ino threw his arm around the older blonde, a wide grin stretched across his face. “I’ll teach you. You'll get the hang of it in no time.”

Satoru scoffed, eyeing the kid with spiky brown hair sticking out of his black beanie. Ino seemed like the type that would excel at drinking games. 

“You seem to be having fun.” Satoru commented when Ino left. It was certainly a different side of Nanami, one that Satoru didn’t know existed. For starters, it was the first time since Nanami returned that he wasn’t wearing a suit. The blonde was wearing a white turtleneck sweater and dark blue jeans. Ironically almost the same thing as Satoru, the taller of the two sported a black turtleneck and light denim jeans.

“I admit it’s—“ Nanami hiccuped “—been a while since I drank.”

Satoru let out a chuckle. “I can tell.”

“Want some?” Nanami offered, holding his cup filled with liquor out to the white-haired man

“Yeah come on!” Shoko came up behind them, seeming fairly intoxicated herself. She traded in her white lab coat for a black knee-length dress and a light blue cardigan. Her large brown eyes were half-lidded, a coy smile crossed her face.

“No thank you.” Satoru held his hand out.

The last time he got drunk he wound up calling Suguru. Not once, not twice, but fifteen times before the cult leader finally answered. And when he did they—

Satoru pulled his phone out.

Speak of the devil.

A text from none other than the raven-haired curse user.

Same text he had been getting for nearly eight months now. An address of a random abandoned building. This time the cult leader didn’t even ask “tonight?”  Probably too busy to text that extra word. Asshole.

“Can’t tonight.” Satoru typed back real quick before shoving his phone back in his pocket.

He wasn’t sure what time people would leave, and it’d be too suspicious to dip out of a party he was hosting. 

Besides, he—

“Ieri!!!” Utahime ran up to Shoko, her red dress flurried behind her. She threw arms around the doctor standing next to Satoru. “Thank you for throwing me this party. Thank you, thank you, thank you ! You’re the best !” The sorcerer rubbed her cheek against the other woman.

“Thank Gojo.” the brunette replied. “He’s the one that let me use his apartment.”

Utahime turned her gaze toward Satoru, her smile dropped. “Do I have to?” the fellow teacher whined. 

“No need to thank me Utahime.” Satoru threw his long arms around the two women, mimicking the birthday girl by rubbing his cheek against hers. 

“Get off of me Gojo!” She squirmed. Shoko and Nanami erupted into laughter.

A few minutes later, Satoru excused himself from the chaos and stood on the balcony. The weather was surprisingly temperate, considering it was late February. Not that the cold would have bothered him, extreme weather never made it past his Infinity. 

He looked down at his phone. His message to Suguru said “read” underneath it. No response.

It’s not like he was expecting a text back, but still he—

“Hey.” Satoru turned around to see Nanami slide the glass door to the balcony open. “Mind if I join you?”

“Course not.” 

Nanami walked over and stood next to him, leaning his forearms on the railing. He took a deep breath, his eyes fixated on the white lights of the buildings below.

“You don’t seem close with any of them.” The blonde started without looking at him.

Satoru raised a brow at him, “Oh really?” he responded. Where was this coming from?

“I remember you were always really close with—“ Nanami stopped mid sentence, his lips pursed.

He immediately knew who the shorter man was referring to.

Suguru.

“You can say his name, ya know?” Satoru pointed out. “He’s not Voldemort.”

Nanami let out a soft chuckle. “Isn’t he, in a way?”

The white-haired sorcerer put his hand on his chin. “Honestly now that you mention it, I guess so.”

“I know it happened almost a decade ago, but I’m… sorry… about what happened with Geto.” The man beside him suddenly sounded a lot more sober.

“Sorry?” Satoru looked over at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Nanami finished the last sip of his drink before continuing. “Do you remember Haibara?”

The taller man scrunched his face in thought. Haibara, Haibara … “The kid with the bowl cut?”

The blonde scoffed. “Yeah, him.” He gazed down at the empty cup in his hands. “Geto and I were both there in the morgue when Haibara passed away. I think we both came to the same realization that day.”

Satoru was silent for a moment. “What realization?” He finally asked.

“The realization that jujutsu sorcerers don’t live long. That we’re treated like fodder so regular humans can live long, peaceful lives.”

There was a long pause.

“You’re really going to kill all non-jujutsu sorcerers now? You know that’s impossible! There’s no point at chipping away at something you can’t possibly achieve!”

Satoru thought back to that day in Shinjuku, watching Suguru disappear into the crowd.

Watching Suguru abandon his life as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“Then why’d you come back?” The white-haired sorcerer whispered, his question almost drowned out by a big gust of wind.

Nanami looked out over the balcony, although his eyes weren’t focused on the cityscape below them. They were somewhere far away, somewhere outside of Satoru’s reach. “Being a jujutsu sorcerer may be soul-crushing, but so is being a company man. At least as a jujutsu sorcerer, I can help people.” 

“Hmm…” Satoru hummed in response. “Well I can’t say I know what that’s like, but I’m glad you're back.”

“Really?” The blonde turned his head quickly, his hazel eyes widened.

“Yeah,” The taller man grinned. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Nanami looked away, a hint of redness on his cheeks, barely visible in the dim glow of the porch light above them.

“I don’t know, I guess—“

“Hey.” Shoko opened the sliding door behind them. 

Both men flinched.

“Oh.” She paused before closing the door, her brow raised. “Was I interrupting something?”

“N–no.” Nanami stuttered.

“Course not.” Satoru followed, a bit more level-headed than his blonde counterpart. 

Shoko closed the door behind her and placed a cigarette in between her lips. “Good.” Her response was muffled. She pulled out a lighter, hovering the small flame over the edge of the white stick. The cigarette crackled as she inhaled.

“Since when did you start smoking again?” Satoru crossed his arms, leaning back.

“Please, you sound like Yaga.” She rolled her eyes as she let out a puff of smoke. “I don’t smoke nearly as much as I did back then. I do it every once in a while to…” she took another inhale “… take the edge off.” 

She blew out another cloud of smoke before she spoke again. “Want some?” Already knowing Satoru’s answer, she held the lit cigarette out to Nanami.

“Sure.” 

To Satoru’s shock and horror, the blonde walked over and took the burning white stick out of her hands.

“You too Nanami?” Satoru scrunched his face.

Nanami inhaled with the cigarette between his lips, the end of the stick burned bright orange. “Bad habit I picked up as a company man.” He muttered before he exhaled a puff of smoke.

Satoru sighed, turning around to look out at the cityscape below him. 

Cigarettes were disgusting. He always got on Shoko about it, always held his nose when she walked into a room after having one.

So why did Nanami have to look so hot while smoking?

A couple more hours and a few more bottles later, the party slowly started to dwindle down. 

“Can’t you use your reverse curse technique on him?” Satoru asked Shoko once everyone else had left.

Shoko and Utahime were helping Satoru clean, throwing away empty red cups and wiping down the errant sticky surface. Nanami, on the other hand, had spent the past thirty minutes in the bathroom with his head over the toilet. 

Shoko waved him off. “For what? He’ll be hungover at best, he’s not dying.”

Satoru sighed, she was so stingy with her technique. “Fineeeee, then what do I do?”

“Just let him crash on your couch. As long as he has a bottle of water and a trash can, he’ll be fine.”

Satoru squirmed when she mentioned a trash can.

Once everything was in order, Shoko threw her jacket on. “Good night!” She called as she and Utahime hurried out the door. “And thanks again for letting me host!”

“Yes, thank youuuu Gojooo!” The raven-haired sorcerer shouted, her arm around Shoko’s waist. She wasn’t Nanami-level drunk, but the volume of her voice steadily increased throughout the night. “Best birthday everrr !” She yelled as the door closed behind her. 

Satoru sighed.

Well that was over. Now all that was left was…

He headed toward the bathroom to check on Nanami. As he did, the inebriated blonde in question slammed the door open. 

He looked…disheveled to say the least. His golden locks were all over the place, some stuck to his forehead, others sticking straight up. His hazel eyes were half-lidded and glazed over.

“How are you doing buddy?” Satoru quipped. 

“Good, I…” Nanami patted his pockets, looking for his phone. “I was just about to…” he took one step forward and nearly fell over, catching himself on the wall “…call myself a cab.”

Satoru laughed. “Not happening. You’re staying here tonight.”

“No I—“

“Doctor’s orders.” The white-haired sorcerer stopped him.

Before he could respond, Satoru leaned down and grabbed Nanami by the torso. Then he tossed the blonde over his shoulder and carried him to the bedroom.

Despite Shoko’s suggestion, he knew from experience how uncomfortable it was for a man over six feet to sleep on a couch. And besides, Satoru didn’t need to sleep tonight. Thanks to his reverse curse technique, he only needed to sleep once every couple days.

“You’re— hic — strong.” Nanami slurred.

Satoru laughed. “I know, right?”

As gently as possible, Satoru placed him down on the bed.

“Come on let’s—“ the white-haired man grabbed one of his shoes and yanked it off. “— get these things off.” He grabbed the other one and threw it across the room.

Nanami tilted his head to the side. His eyes were closed and a lopsided smile crossed his face.

“You’re the best Gojo.” 

Satoru felt his chest squeeze.

Even in this state, Nanami was—

“D-don’t worry about it.” He replied as nonchalantly as possible, tugging at the corner of his shirt as he did so. He doubted Nanami would notice the awkwardness in his current state.

Satoru left and came back with exactly what Shoko told him to provide, a water bottle and a trash can. He set the plastic water bottle on the coffee table next to the bed, and the trash can right up against the mattress. 

In the time he was gone, Nanami made himself comfortable. He removed his turtleneck sweatshirt and pants, so he was laying on the bed in just a T-shirt and boxers.

Satoru averted his gaze. “All right, that should do it. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

Just as he was about to leave, the white-haired sorcerer felt a hand reach out. He dropped Infinity to allow the inebriated blonde to grab his shirt.

“Stay.” Nanami groaned.

Again Nanami wasn’t looking at him, this time his eyes were squeezed shut.

But again Satoru felt his chest tighten.

“...Sure thing buddy.” Satoru sat at the very edge of the bed, trying to control the gnawing feeling that took hold of him. 

But Nanami didn’t let go of his shirt, instead he yanked at the fabric even harder. 

“Lay down.” 

This sent Satoru into near cardiac arrest. His breath caught in his throat.

“Huh?” The white-haired sorcerer asked, wondering if he misheard the man in his bed. 

But Nanami didn’t repeat himself. Instead, with another drunken grunt, he grabbed Satoru and pulled him down until he was horizontal.

Once acquiesced, the blonde then wrapped his arms around his sober companion and let out a content hum.

Satoru laid completely still, his breathing shallow.

Nanami was warm, his arms around Satoru’s chest, his torso against Satoru’s back. It was like sitting next to an open fire on a snowy day. For a couple minutes the taller man laid in complete stillness, his body went rigid while his mind kicked into overdrive. Spiraling. That word was an understatement. Each minute, each second felt suspended in time. Detached from reality.

Then, after a couple minutes, minutes that felt like hours, Satoru allowed himself to just— let go . Sink into it. Lean into the comforting heat.

Satoru didn’t need to sleep tonight. Or at least that’s what he told himself. But lying there, with Nanami holding him tightly from behind, he allowed himself to drift off. 

Chapter Text

Kento Nanami sighed when he thought about that night.

His memory was blurry, filled with holes. But things he remembered were…

He remembered getting roped into some drinking game by Shoko and Ino. He remembered talking to Gojo on the balcony, although his memory of what exactly they talked about was fuzzy. 

Then—

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose. 

He remembered asking Gojo to lay down with him, and proceeding to spoon the taller man until he fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long Gojo obliged his drunken demand, but all he knew was that he woke up alone — with a pounding headache. He chugged the water bottle left for him, ordered a cab, then hurried out the door.

Fighting back his urge to book a one way ticket to Malaysia and never talk to another human again, Nanami pulled out his phone and texted Gojo.

Nanami: “Sorry for all the trouble last night, thank you for letting me stay at your place.”

Not even a minute later, the white-haired sorcerer responded.

Gojo: “No trouble at all! Sorry, had to run some errands this morning.”

Gojo: gif of a kitten that looked like it was just learning to walk. 

Gojo: “You last night lol”

Gojo: gif of a man petting a kitten.

Gojo: “Me taking care of you” 

Gojo: “Shoko said electrolytes are good for hangovers. Might want to pick up some gatorade! I like the blue flavor best ^-^” 

Once he was home, Nanami downed a bottle of gatorade, 1000mg of ibuprofen, and spent the rest of the day in bed with the curtains closed.

On top of the physical pain, the mental anguish took hold of the former company man. 

It wasn’t the fact that Gojo was a man. It’s been well over a decade since Kento Nanami accepted that he liked both men and women.

In fact, Gojo was one of his first male crushes.

Back then Gojo was unreachable, always off with Geto, turning a cold shoulder to anyone else. Unreachable and arrogant . So that crush faded quickly.

After high school, he mainly pursued women, since that’s what society expected of him. 

Nanami had one serious girlfriend, Tsubaki. They dated for a year before she broke the news that her job required her to move to England. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) Nanami wasn’t that upset about it. They parted ways amicably.

That was the extent of his romantic history. Now here he was, in his late twenties, trying to navigate a crush that came back with a vengeance. 

After the party, things went back to normal with Gojo. Aside from him mimicking Nanami’s slurred speech for the rest of the week, neither of them mentioned what happened once everyone left. Nanami continued to stop by campus and help train the first years when he wasn’t taking on an ever-increasing amount of missions. 

They were colleagues. Friends? Nanami would consider them friends. Gojo seemed closer with him than any of the other sorcerers. And vice versa. Even though Nanami had begun to train Ino, per the younger sorcerer's request, that relationship was purely professional. 

Things were back to normal, and normal was good.

Normal was…

Normal…

And it wasn’t enough 

The warm weather began to roll in. The cherry blossoms were just starting to sprout, little pink buds scattered across the trees on campus like confetti.

Kento Nanami walked up to find Gojo outside with the first years. The four students were running laps. Maki was ahead, Inumaki only two meters or so behind, Panda and Yuta were trailing a couple more meters behind Inumaki but still keeping pace. 

“Nanami!” The white-haired sorcerer turned once he heard the former company man approach, flashing a dazzling white smile that made Nanami’s heart squeeze. 

“Morning Gojo.” He responded, keeping his tone neutral.

As per routine, he trained with the first years for most of the afternoon. Training today consisted of combat drills, followed by target practice with the low level cursed spirits the school kept on hand, flyheads.

“Hey,” Nanami asked once the two older men were alone. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, peaking through the pink-budded branches. “Are you doing anything this Saturday?”

“This Saturday? Nope, why?” Gojo asked. 

“Before I left my company, one of my clients gifted me tickets to the opening game for the Yakult Swallows at Meiji Jingu Stadium.”

“Would you…” There it was, his nerves, bubbling up like acid in his throat. He averted the taller man’s gaze, rubbing the back of his neck “…want to go with me?”

Gojo was wearing his blindfold, but Nanami could see his eyes widened behind the fabric.

“Baseball?” The taller man gasped. “Count me IN!” He clasped his hands together in front of his chest and spun around. “This is gonna be so much fun ! I’ve never been to a baseball game before!”

Gojo began rambling on and on about his (lackluster) knowledge of the Nippon, Japan’s Professional Baseball league. Nanami grinned as he stood there and listened.

Was this a date? He didn’t dare call it that. Didn’t dare assume. Friends went to baseball games together all the time... right?

The weekend rolled around and the two men arrived at the outdoor stadium. The weather was perfect, sunny but not too hot. Just perfect for the white T-shirt and a denim jacket Nanami was wearing.

The seats were starting to fill up with patrons. Most of the crowd sported navy and red, the color of the Swallows, Tokyo’s one of two professional baseball teams. 

Nanami checked his watch. Gojo left for the shops over thirty minutes ago, he should be back by now…

“Nanami!” the blonde turned when his name was called. The white-haired sorcerer was walking down the stairs of their row, in his arms—

Nanami’s jaw dropped. 

“What the—?” He stared as Gojo sat down, the man somehow juggling a whole concession-stand's worth of items in his hands. “What did you buy?” 

“I got us beer.” He handed a large can of carbonated liquid to Nanami. “Hotdogs.” He handed over the American meal wrapped in aluminum foil. “Kettle corn.” The bag of sweetened popcorn was tossed onto Nanami’s lap. “All the necessities for a baseball game, right?”

“Uh-huh” Nanami nodded slowly. “And what’s in those?” He pointed to the additional three large brown bags the white-haired man set down between his long legs.

“Oh yeah!” Gojo rummaged through them. “I got us baseball hats, jerseys, foam fingers, this mini wooden bat…”

He continued rattling off the items he purchased, pulling them each out of the separate bags. Nanami could only stare in disbelief. He must have spent an entire month's rent on everything combined, maybe more.

It was true what the other sorcerers said. The man really did have an egregious amount of money, more than he knew what to do with.

The men turned their heads when they heard the broadcaster’s voice over the speakers.

“Ooooh the game is starting!” Gojo patted Nanami’s arm incessantly. “Let’s put our jerseys on!”

Nanami sighed and shrugged off his denim jacket, placing the jersey over top of his white T-shirt. Gojo did the same, flexing his toned arms as he did so.

“Can’t forget the hats.” Gojo placed the baseball cap on top of the blonde’s head. 

Once they were both suited up, jersey, cap and foam finger, the white-haired man flashed a dazzling smile. “Perfect.”

Nanami gulped, quickly grabbing his beer, hoping to hide the redness that crept up on his cheeks. “Thanks.” He muttered into the rim of the can.

It was a great game. The two teams were neck and neck for the first three innings. Then the Swallows hit a grand slam which put them ahead by four points. The two men leapt up from their seats, joining in the thunderous applause as each player ran the bases.

During an intermission, the large screen above the field flashed with the word “Kiss Cam”. So American… Nanami sighed. With a bunch of pink hearts around the corner of the jumbo-tron, they would live-cast a random couple in the stadium. Once the couple realized the camera was on them, they would kiss and the crowd would cheer. And then the process would repeat with a new couple.

Gojo seemed disinterested until the camera pointed at a couple one row above them. 

The white-haired man gasped, pointing at the bottom of the screen. “Nanami look! That’s us!”

While the couple kissed, Gojo leaned over so that more of his face was visible in the corner of the jumbotron. 

And then he started waving his arms in the air.

“Gojo! What are you—?”

It was like a bad dream. A dream so ridiculous that when you wake up, you laugh at how your brain came up with such a thing.

But this was real. This was really happening.

…And somehow it got worse.

The cameraman, obviously noticing Gojo’s obnoxious waving, decided to point the camera at them.

Kento Nanami froze.

“Nanami!! It’s on us now!!” The man sitting next to him sounded far away.

Everything from there on felt like it was happening in slow mode. 

Gojo looked at Nanami and puckered his lips. The blonde went rigid, his cheeks probably as red as the stripes on the team’s jersey.

“Come onnnnnn,” Gojo pleaded. “For the camera!”

“Kiss! Kiss Kiss!” The entire stadium chanted.

The taller of the two men slowly leaned forward, his lips getting closer and closer.  

This can’t be happening. Sure he fantasized about his first kiss with the white-haired man. But not here. Not like this. 

This can’t be happening!

In a moment of quick thinking, Nanami turned his head forward and leaned his cheek toward Gojo. The white-haired man grabbed his face and gave him an audible smooch on the cheek. The applause in the stadium was deafening.

Gojo released Nanami and clapped along with them, seemingly drunk off the attention.

What the…

Nanami was suddenly grateful Gojo decided to buy them another beer. He lifted the metal rim to his lips and downed the entire can of foamy liquid.

Once the game was over, the two men followed the crowd out of the stadium. The sun was starting to set, casting faint purple and orange shadows across the sky.

“That was awesome!” Gojo began rambling. “Did you see that double play in the last inning? it was—”

“Nanami!”

The blonde turned around to see a short man with shaggy black hair walk up to the two of them. 

“Matsuda.” Nanami plastered a grin on his face, recognizing his former colleague as he approached. Shit. “It’s nice to see you.” 

“Nice to see you too, it’s been so long!!” Matsuda shook Nanami’s hand excitedly, 

“I know.” The blonde replied with a socially appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Then he gestured to Gojo. “This is my colleague at my new employer. Satoru Gojo. Gojo, this is Touta Matsuda.”

“Hi!” Matsuda extended his hand out toward the white-haired man.  

Gojo had his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeriness from a second ago all but vanished. “Yo.” He tilted his chin, his voice was flat.

Matsuda pulled back his hand once he realized Gojo wasn’t going to reciprocate. “You work at a school right?” He asked Nanami. “We were all so shocked when you quit. To be a teacher no less… Ah, no offense!” He quickly turned toward Gojo, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“Yeah…” Nanami rubbed the back of his neck. “I… needed a change of pace, that’s all.”

There was a long moment of silence between the three of them before Matsuda spoke. “Well hey—” He pulled out his phone. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? Just because we don’t work together anymore, doesn’t mean we can’t hang out, right?”

“Y-yeah, sure.” Nanami took his former colleague’s phone and input his cell number. 

“Awesome.” He grinned when Nanami handed back the phone. “Talk to you soon!” He waved as he began walking away. “And nice to meet you Gojo!”

Nanami waved back. Gojo, on the other hand, didn’t move a muscle.

“That guy was sooo trying to hit on you.” The white-haired man finally spoke once Matsuda left.

“What? No he wasn’t.” Nanami immediately shot back.

“Oh come ooonnnn.” The taller man rolled his eyes. “He sees you at the game with another guy, he saw another guy kiss you on that kiss-cam thing… Now he thinks he has a shot. It’s classic really.”

Now that Nanami thought about it… Matsuda never had a girlfriend, or spoke of having relations with women, unlike the other sleazy men at the office. 

And he did seem… clingy at times. He constantly showed up at Nanami’s desk, asking for work advice, or just making small talk. But the blonde assumed he was like that with everyone. Just one of those overly-friendly, bubbly types. 

Nanami didn’t respond, but Gojo decided to fill the silence with a single line— a line that hit like a punch in the gut. 

“Too bad you're straight.”

Nanami flinched.

“Enough.” The blonde curled his fists, his shoulders tensed up.

The energy between them changed. It happened the minute Matsuda showed up. Nanami sighed. Really he shouldn’t be surprised. It reminded him of the Gojo he knew back in high school, aloof and arrogant, always giving the cold shoulder to anyone he deemed an outsider. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, but still— tension took hold of him. It spread from his jaw to his shoulders, all the way down the length of his arms. 

He was tense and agitated. This wasn’t the time to set the record straight about his sexuality. 

The blonde started walking ahead, away from the crowd. He picked up the pace, each step releasing some of the pent up energy inside him, but Gojo and his long legs easily kept up. He strode right behind the blonde.

“Just picture him, going home alone. Probably jerking off too—”

“Gojo—” 

“What? You can’t tell me—“

Nanami turned around and grabbed the white-haired sorcerer by the collar. “You’re irritating as hell, you know that?”

The two of them stood there for a moment. Nanami kept his iron grip on the white-haired sorcerer’s shirt, his breathing heavy. 

The next words that left Gojo’s mouth would be their downfall.

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

Oh.

That’s why he let his Infinity down in order for Nanami to grab him. 

He…

He wanted this. 

Kento Nanami stared at the cerulean blue eyes that peaked out above Gojo’s heavily-tinted sunglasses. They were like an ocean on a sunny day, sparkling, inviting — and Nanami was done waiting. 

Nanami was ready to dive in.

He pulled the white-haired man in and kissed him hard on the lips.

Fireworks. That’s the common phrase people used to describe their first kiss with someone. He never understood why. He never felt that with Tsubaki, or anyone else he kissed.

Fireworks. He knew what they meant now.

Gojo’s lips were warm, soft against his. Inviting. 

Gojo placed his hands on Nanami’s upper arms. The simple touch was electric, generating a warmth that spread throughout the rest of his upper body.

Both men broke from the kiss with a shaky breath.

“Gojo…” Nanami started.

They locked eyes with one another for what felt like an eternity— but was probably ten seconds maximum. 

Nanami could stare at those eyes for days.

“So…” Gojo muttered. “You’re not straight then. Got it.” 

Nanami laughed, suddenly feeling a lot lighter. “No, no I’m not.”

“Good.” The taller man grinned before pulling him in for another kiss.

After who knows how many minutes of kissing on the street, the two men walked to Gojo’s apartment together, arms around each other’s waist. It was… nice. More than nice. This newfound closeness. Nanami normally felt Gojo’s Infinity, it was a buzz, an air about him. It was a symbol of how untouchable he was. A barrier between him and the world. But that barrier was dropped for Nanami, and it felt like getting the keys to a castle.

Nanami stood at the door of Gojo’s apartment. The sorcerer pulled him in for another kiss, this time literally pulled him. 

Nanami froze, his arms on the doorframe.

“Gojo…” He broke the kiss.

The white-haired man looked at him confused.

He was trying to get the blonde into his apartment. Did that mean—?

He wants to do this? Now? Nanami felt light-headed. He struggled to use his words, his tongue suddenly felt dry.

“This is new… and I… care about you.” The blonde whispered, placing his hands on Gojo’s upper arms. “And if we decide to do… this… I…”

“I want to take it slow.” He finally forced out the rest of his words.

Nanami could tell from the look on Gojo’s face that he was processing. Once he understood, he nodded slowly.

“Y—yeah, of course.” He finally replied, his voice low.

They both stood there for another long moment. Not daring to move. It was as if any small movement could shatter this new reality they created. 

“Good night Gojo.” Nanami finally caved, leaning in for another kiss.

The white-haired man kissed him back. “Good night Nanami.”

The former company man reluctantly took a step back as Gojo closed the door.

Shit…

Kento Nanami stared at the closed door in front of him, his mind reeling. 

How he wanted to stay… Kiss Gojo some more, shrug him out of that expensive jersey…

But no. He did the right thing.

This was new.

Fragile. 

Looking back, it was more fragile than he realized.

Chapter Text

Nanami wanted to take things slow. 

Slow. Sure. Satoru could do slow.

It wasn’t like the first (and only) relationship he had was purely physical. 

They decided to keep their relationship private. Not because they were gay, Nanami assured him. He was just worried about “the complications of a work relationship”. So he wanted to wait before telling others.

Now keeping their relationship private was something Satoru could do. It wasn’t like the first (and only) relationship he had was a secret. 

About a month after the baseball game, the two men were walking around campus. Spring was in full force, the last of the cherry blossoms were still hanging on, but the trees were much more green now. Nanami eventually left to go on a mission, and Satoru met with the first years for training. 

“So,” Maki muttered when they were out of ear shot from the others. “You two dating or what?” 

Satoru jumped. “What? Dating? We’re—“

She stared at him, her dark half-lidded eyes bore holes into the older man.

He sighed. There was no getting past her. “Fine, we are.” He whispered. “But don’t tell anyone all right?”

“Don’t tell anyone what?” Panda shot up from behind them. 

So… the first years knew. Oh well. He wasn’t too worried about it. Aside from Panda, they didn’t have much contact with Yaga or any of the other sorcerers, and they were too young to participate in any events with the Kyoto school.

And they were happy for him. Even Maki, despite her stoic front, seemed pleased with the situation. 

At school, nothing changed. But his free time was different. Nanami took him out to dinner, took him to museums, arranged picnics for the two of them…

Turns out both Satoru and Nanami had only been with one other man. Nanami’s was a short fling after high school. And Satoru—

The white-haired sorcerer didn’t disclose who his first male partner was, and Nanami didn’t ask.

If he knew…

He wasn’t purposely trying to hide anything from his new blonde boyfriend, it was just… c omplicated . Not only was Suguru a curse user, he was a curse user with a death sentence, one that Satoru was responsible for carrying out.

He would tell Nanami eventually. One day. But right now…

They were in their own bubble. A perfect little bubble. A bubble he didn’t want anyone or anything to break. 

Suguru tried reaching out, but Satoru ignored him. He thought about texting back, letting Suguru know it was over between them, but—

The cult leader was erratic. Unhinged. He might start asking questions, prying where he shouldn’t — and Satoru wanted to protect Nanami from that.

Besides, Satoru always had a feeling he wasn’t the only person Suguru was sleeping with. Perhaps the cult leader would eventually get bored of reaching out to Satoru and go play with one of his many disciples.

It was frustrating, this whole “taking it slow” thing. Satoru went through more lotion that spring than he did throughout his entire high school tenure.  

Once summer rolled around, Satoru was rewarded for his patience.

They were in his bed, the same bed where they slept together the night of Uthamie’s party. The place where Satoru felt Nanami’s embrace for the first time, wearing much more clothes than either of them had on now. 

He hardly used this bed. He only slept once every few days, and most of those days he crashed at the school.

He didn’t know his bed could be such a magical place.

The blonde towered over him, his arms on either side of Satoru like a cage — a cage he never wanted to escape from. The sorcerer ran his hands down Nanami’s torso, his fingers gliding over his chest, his abs… appraising the blonde’s physique.

Then and there, on the same bed where they first embraced, Kento Nanami took him. 

Satoru had been with a man before. But this—

Nanami was slow, gentle. Reverent. He caressed Satoru with tender fingers, peppered his face with kisses. 

Even the way the blonde looked at him. The adoration behind his hazel eyes. 

It was so much different.

“Satoru…” Nanami brushed a few white hairs out of his face as he spoke.

Nanami’s hips collided with Satoru’s behind, sending a wave of pleasure through the white-haired sorcerer’s body. Instinctively, the white-haired man placed his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the cries of pleasure that spilled from his lips.

But before he could even register it, Nanami removed Satoru’s hand from his mouth, pinning his wrist to the mattress.

“I want to hear you.” He whispered into the white-haired sorcerer’s ear.

“Can’t have you alerting the whole town now can we?” The sorcerer remembered one of the last times he was with Suguru, when the cult leader silenced him. 

I want to hear you.

Satoru didn’t notice the tears forming in his eyes until he blinked, a single streak ran down his cheek. 

Nanami paused when he noticed, his body went rigid. “Am I hurting you?”

Satoru shook his head. “No, no it’s just—“

Words. Satoru opened his mouth to speak, but nothing more came out. Use your words, he’s asking you a question.

Am I hurting you? Of course not.

I love this.

I love you.

“Keep going.” He finally managed.

The blonde’s brow furrowed even more. “Are you sur–?” 

Satoru grabbed Nanami’s shoulders and pulled him in, his lips crashing against the soft warm lips of the man on top of him. He let his hands travel down the blonde’s back, digging his fingernails into the toned muscles there.

“I’m sure.” He broke the kiss, breathless determination in his voice.

The man on top pressed his body against Satoru's as he continued to move his hips. “Kento…” Satoru held Nanami close as he uttered his first name, forming the vowels on his lips. Committing it to memory, reciting it like a prayer. The blonde responded with a deep thrust, making Satoru’s toes curl. “Kento… Kento…!”

Kento Nanami continued to sink into him, deeper and deeper , until Satoru came undone. 

Again and again and again.

It was a humid night during the thick of summer when Nanami dropped Satoru off after dinner.

Normally Nanami would stay, but he had a mission early that morning, one that required him to travel outside of Tokyo, and one of the auxiliary managers was set to pick him up at his apartment.

After Satoru tried (and failed) to get his boyfriend to reconsider, the blonde left.

Satoru turned toward his bedroom, ready to brush his teeth and tucker in for the night.

That’s when he felt it.

He turned his head to see Suguru Geto, the curse user he was supposed to kill — and more recently — his ex-lover. He stood on his balcony, his dark blue robe blended in with the night sky.

What the–?!

“Suguru!” He stormed over and opened the sliding door. “What are you doing here?!”

“You haven’t been answering me.” The raven-haired curse user stated simply, as if he was talking about the weather. 

“And you decided to show up here?” Satoru yelled, his voice seeped with both anger and panic. 

“I was in the area so I dropped by.” Suguru waltzed right past Satoru into the apartment. The white-haired sorcerer was frozen in place, his grip on the sliding door was so tight he felt the glass flex beneath his fingers. 

Once inside, Suguru turned his head over his shoulder to look at Satoru, a sly fox-like grin crossed his face. 

“He’s cute.”

Nanami.

He’s talking about Nanami.

The glass beneath Satoru’s fingers cracked. 

“I think I’d like to meet him.” The curse user continued when Satoru didn’t answer. “Why don’t we bring him up here?”

“Suguru— no!!”

Satoru wasn’t quick enough to stop it. The cult leader standing in front of him blasted his cursed energy, It was like the eruption of a volcano, the sinister force was poignant, overwhelming . Any sorcerer within a five mile range would notice it.

He was luring Nanami in.

Satoru pounced on Suguru, knocking him down. He wrapped both hands around the curse user’s throat. 

But it was too late.

The door to the apartment slammed open. Both men turned to see none other than Kento Nanami. The blonde — who probably didn’t even make it out of the building before rushing back up — was panting. His fists were curled at his sides. 

“Satoru!” He yelled, rushing over toward the white-haired sorcerer. “Are you all right?”

“Oh? He calls you Satoru too?” Suguru raised a brow. “I’m hurt, I thought I was the only one who had that honor.”

Nanami took a sharp inhale once he saw the cult leader on the ground. He stood at the white-haired sorcerer’s side, cursed energy pooled in his clenched fists. Ready to attack.

Satoru, with his hands still around the curse user’s neck, was frozen in horror.

And Suguru noticed. His dark eyes lit up, his face twisted into a sinister grin.

“I must admit, this is a new position for me. I’m used to it being the other way around.”

The cult leader was erratic. Unhinged.

And he was about to get everything he wanted.

Satoru squeezed Suguru’s throat even tighter, causing the raven-haired curse user to choke. 

But again he was too late. 

He didn’t look behind him, but he could feel Nanami go rigid, processing the curse user’s words.

No! Don’t listen to him!

Suguru took the sorcerer’s distraction and shoved the taller man off of him. Satoru didn’t fight it, he allowed himself to be thrown to the ground. 

He knew it was over. The damage was done. 

“Well, this was fun, but I must get going.” Suguru brushed off the front of his robe and strode toward the balcony, summoning his stingray-shaped curse spirit. He hopped over the railing, onto the back of the flying beast. “We should all get together again sometime!” He called as he flew higher into the air, until eventually he was out of view.

Outside, Satoru could hear the sound of traffic from down below.

Inside, the sound of silence between the two remaining men was crushing. 

“Is it true?”

Nanami’s voice— 

It was like knocking over a china cabinet, and hearing all the delicate glass pieces break, one by one. A symphony of shattering.

A train wreck that couldn’t be stopped. 

“I was for a while yes— but I haven’t since the day of the baseball game I swear!” Satoru stood up frantically, tears budding at the corners of his eyes.

Kento, please…

Nanami didn’t meet his gaze. His eyes were on the ground, his knuckles white.

Darkness behind his hazel eyes. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” His voice was low. “But I won’t stick around to see the consequences.”

Satoru tried to grab Nanami’s arm, but he pulled away. And before the white-haired sorcerer could say anything else, the man he loved turned and stormed out of the apartment.

Chapter Text

The principled man he was, Kento Nanami stuck to his word.

He didn’t tell anyone that Satoru and Suguru had been seeing each other.

And he didn’t stick around. 

His absence was painful. A bitter chill in the thick of summer. At one point, Satoru found himself with his own arms wrapped around his torso, reeling from the lack of touch. 

He was hollow. More than hollow. It was an emptiness that was hard to describe. It… hurt. Physically hurt. And Satoru wasn’t used to physical pain. He had Infinity to protect him from that. But he was beginning to realize once he let his barrier down, it was hard to put back up. 

He lived without Nanami before, surely he could live without him again, right?

It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. 

What a load of crap.

In an attempt to deal with all the negative emotions left by his blonde ex-boyfriend, Satoru found himself somewhere he swore he would never go.

In the den of the beast.

Suguru Geto’s temple was massive. It was nearly as big as the school. Sure Satoru had seen pictures of it, blurry pictures taken by frightened auxiliary managers— and he had flown over it a couple times— but to see it up close in person was something else entirely. 

“I must say I’m impressed.” Satoru leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood in what he only assumed was Suguru’s bedroom. It was modest. Big, but modest. Tatami mats covered the floor where his mattress was, the queen-sized bed covered in maroon sheets. In the other half of the room was a tea table set up. Adjacent from the window-lit tea area was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Some of the texts Satoru recognized from the Zenin and Kamo clan, most likely stolen. 

“Thank you.” Suguru stood about ten feet away from him, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. “We have extremely generous donors that make it all possible.”

Donors. Satoru knew all about how the cult got their money. Cursing wealthy company men, and offering to remove their curses for a hefty fee. It was deplorable.

…Not that these donors were good people. They were shady at best, criminals at worst. But still…

He shouldn’t be here. It was dangerous. Beyond dangerous, it was insanity.

But he didn’t care anymore.

He didn’t have a blonde sorcerer worrying about his well-being.

Suguru closed the distance between them and they began their familiar dance. 

It took a moment for him to even realize he let down Infinity for Suguru. It was subconscious at this point. As soon as he saw the flash of raven hair striding toward him, he let down the barrier between him and the world.

Just to feel something. 

Once he let his barrier down, it was hard to put back up. 

It was bittersweet. Like dark chocolate, or tea without enough milk and sugar. Oh how Satoru craved the touch of another, but every stroke of the curse user’s fingers was… rougher. Greedier. Even his soft warm lips had a bite to them. A sharpness. 

And then Suguru fanned the flames. Somewhere in the crook of his neck, he heard the cult leader whisper into his skin. “Now I have you all to myself…”

Satoru, with his hands woven through Surguru’s hair, immediately pulled the curse user’s head away from him.

Now that I have you all to myself…

Now that I got rid of Nanami…

How dare he—

Satoru— with rage clouding his mind— spit in the cult leader’s face.

They both stared at each other for a second, eyes widened in disbelief. 

After a moment, Suguru took his thumb and wiped the spit off his cheek, a dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Oh, you’ll pay for that.”

And Satoru paid. With his hands restrained behind his back. With his head pushed into the luxurious bed sheets. With tear-streaked cheeks and red skin raw from friction. He paid for his defiance. 

It was wrong. It was so wrong. But he craved every second of his penance.

Satoru’s moans were loud, but Suguru didn’t silence him this time. Maybe it was the fact that this was his room, in his temple. Maybe his followers were used to hearing these sorts of noises from their leader’s chambers. 

“Yes.” Suguru grabbed a fist full of white hair, pulling the sorcerer up so that his lips grazed the shell of Satoru’s ear. “Tell me how good I make you feel. ”

Once they were stiff and out of breath, Satoru braced himself for the immediate coldness. The immediate distance Suguru always put between them once they caught their breath.

But Suguru didn’t get up and walk away. Instead he plopped down beside Satoru, his weight caused the blankets to puff around him.

And it was then he saw it.

It was brief, but Satoru’s Six Eyes caught it

A slip in the cult leader mask.

A glimpse at the once sorcerer Satoru knew all those years ago.

Suguru hummed and began to stroke Satoru’s hair. His flushed cheeks were shrouded in moonlight from the window where Satoru stood not too long ago.

Satoru stared at the cult leader — too stunned to speak, too stunned to move. 

…So they didn’t. No words were exchanged between the two. They lied there until the sun began to rise, Suguru’s hands woven through Satoru’s hair, Satoru’s breathing steady, even.

What’s going on inside your head? It’s the thought that plagued him after Suguru went rogue all those years ago. Even now, almost a decade later, he never knew what the curse user was thinking. 

And to add to his already mounting confusion— after that night, Suguru vanished.

Satoru tried to reach him, but no response. After a couple weeks, the sorcerer — in a particularly unhinged state — decided to show up to the temple unannounced, but Suguru wasn’t there. 

If Suguru had gotten himself killed, Satoru would know, so it wasn’t that. 

Maybe the curse user just wanted to split him and Nanami up. He didn’t want Satoru anymore, but didn’t want Satoru to have anyone else.

Now that I have you all to myself…

The thought made Satoru physically ill. He placed his hand over his mouth, his eyes dark.

Unable to decipher the cult leader's decision, Satoru knew one thing.

For the first time in over a year, he was truly alone.

Whether it was the sporadic one night encounters with Suguru, or well thought out dates with Nanami, he didn’t realize how accustomed he became to having someone by his side.

Growing up, he was under constant supervision. Fellow white-haired blue-eyed sorcerers were a constant presence at his side, forcing him to train, forcing him to learn clan traditions. Back then, he would scale the gates of the Gojo compound, escaping for only a few hours just to get some peace and quiet. 

But peace and quiet wasn’t what he really wanted. All he wanted was for someone to look at him as a person, not a weapon-in-training. And the first person to do that was…

“Hey Gojo,” Yuta piped up one day during class. It was one of those stifling summer days, a day where Satoru let the kids train indoors instead of on the field. Panda and Maki were sparing, and Inumaki was on a mission. “Are you all right?” 

The question made the white-haired sorcerer freeze. Immediately he plastered a smile on his face. “Yeah I’m fine!” He responded in his usual cheery tone. “Why do you ask?”

“N— no reason!” Yuta rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, but his eyes told a different story.

Even Maki and Panda, in the midst of sparing, gave them a sad look.

A few weeks later, Kento Nanami was recommended to be a Grade One sorcerer by Mei Mei. Satoru wasn’t surprised. It was well deserved. He’d seen Nanami on missions before. He was more deserving of the Grade One title than some of the other faculty who held that rank.

And of course, Nanami excelled at his mission.

The other sorcerers threw a celebratory party in his honor. This time, Shoko didn’t come to Satoru and ask him to host. Instead, she cast him a sorry glance in the hallway.

At this point, most of the sorcerers knew that Nanami and Gojo weren’t on speaking terms anymore. Rumors flew through the school. Some were spot on, some weren’t. Satoru didn’t bother to correct them, and clearly neither did Nanami. 

But Satoru wasn’t given any more time to wallow. The night of the celebration party was the same night Suguru made his first move. 

It was Yuta’s second mission. Well technically it was Toge Inumaki’s mission that Yuta was supposed to shadow, but something went wrong. A semi first-grade curse appeared and gave his students some trouble.

But that wasn’t the alarming part. Someone lowered a veil over Ichji’s, so Ichji was unable to tell the two were in danger.

And the man behind the scenes didn’t even try to hide his residuals. It’s like he wanted Satoru to know he was there, in the shadows, pulling the strings.

The scrawny auxiliary manager began apologizing, his head lowered, but Satoru stopped him in his tracks. “You were just out classed.”

“Out classed by who?” Ichji raised his head. “Do you have an idea about who did this?”

Suguru.

A couple of weeks later, Satoru sat on the edge of his balcony, staring out into the night sky. He looked at his phone as the clock switched from 11:59 pm December 6th to 12:00 am December 7th.

Satoru’s birthday. 

The white-haired sorcerer was officially twenty eight years old. Twenty eight old…

Shoko wanted to plan something for him, but he declined. He knew she just felt bad. And he appreciated her attempt to cheer him up, to get him out of his funk, but he was pretty sure a birthday party without Nanami would make him even more depressed. 

Besides, he had work to do. He needed to figure out what the cult leader was up to.

It was just going to be a normal day. A regular Thursday—

“Happy Birthday Gojo!”

The white-haired sorcerer froze when he saw the classroom. Colorful streamers and balloons hung from the ceiling. All of the first years stood in the center of the room, with paper party hats and party horns. On the desk in front of them was a classic vanilla frosting cake. 

Tears welled up at the corner of his hidden eyes.

Satoru leaped forward and wrapped his long arms around his students, even Panda.

“Thank you.” He whispered, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

His students hugged him back. Even the ever-aloof Maki softened in the group hug. 

“Now,” he laughed as he pulled back. “Who wants to eat cake?”

In the days after his birthday, winter descended upon Japan. It hadn’t snowed yet, but the wind carried a biting chill. 

Satoru and Yaga were talking, overlooking the school from the second floor of the main campus building. They were debriefing Inumaki’s mission, discussing Satoru’s theory of who was behind it all.

And then he felt it. 

They all felt it. 

“God damnit!” Yaga stormed off, the blood vessel on his forehead threatening to burst. “Speaking of that little devil.”

Satoru watched as Yaga disappeared, his mind trying to process the sudden intrusion on the school’s premise.

It can’t be…

But it was. 

There he stood. In his stupid monk robe, with that stupid sadistic grin on his face.

Suguru.

The cult leader had his back to him, his arm draped over Yuta’s shoulder. 

“Do me a favor,” The white-haired sorcerer projected his voice. “Could you please stop preaching your crazy beliefs to my students?” 

“Satoru!” Suguru turned his head, the corners of his mouth stretched into a devilish grin. His voice had the opposite tone of the white-haired sorcerer’s. It was cheerful, eerily cheerful. “Long time no see!”

There was a brief moment of silence as the other sorcerers flanked behind the teacher. Satoru could hear Principal Yaga crack his knuckles behind him. Behind that old hag was Nanami. The blonde’s cursed energy was blazing, like angry blue flames, threatening to combust at any moment.

“Step away from those kids right now, Suguru.” Satoru continued, trying to focus on the situation in front of him.

“I heard this new first year class is simply outstanding. Seems it’s true, you still have an eye for talent.”

Suguru continued to speak in his silky cult-leader voice, pointing out the unique qualities of each of the first years. And of course, pointing out the lack of qualities of the only female student in their grade. That’s when Satoru felt the young sorcerer under Suguru’s arm stiffened. He pushed the curse user’s arm off his shoulder, his small voice filled with anger. 

“I can’t help anyone who insults my friends.” Yuta glared up at the older man. “So count me out.”

Suguru’s eyes widened. How long have you been cooped up in that temple? Satoru thought. Did you forget not everyone has the same beliefs as you? The curse user plastered an apologetic smile on his face. “My apologies,” he responded in a soft tone.”I didn’t come here to insult you or your friends.”

“That’s good to know.” Satoru was over this whole show. He put himself in between Yuta and Suguru, his fists curled. “Then why exactly did you come here?” Malice dripped in his voice. 

Satoru had his blindfold on, but yet it seemed like Suguru stared straight through it. Straight into his soul. The raven-haired man flashed a sinister grin.

“I came to declare war.”

Satoru could feel it. Yaga, Shoko, Nanami, Mei Mei… all the sorcerers standing outside immediately tensed.

The cult leader loved a scene.

“Everyone gathered here today, I want you to open your ears and listen closely. On December 24th, when the sun sets, we shall begin the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. At the crucible of curses, Shinjuku, Tokyo. As well as the holy land of jujutsu, Kyoto. If you wish to avoid a scene straight from hell, come do your best to stop me.” He continued, his voice took an ominous tone. “Let us freely curse each other to the death.”

“Mr. Geto!” The young blonde girl in the cohort of curse users shouted, interrupting the cult leader's monologue. “The cafe is gonna close!”

“Oh, is it that late already?” Suguru turned back over to Satoru. “You know how it is, don’t you? These girls just have to get their favorite crepes from Takeshita Street.” The blonde in question waved at Suguru frantically. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Satoru took a step forward, his nostrils flared. “You didn’t think we’d just let you leave, did you?”

“Careful Satoru.” A thirty foot tall one-eyed beast emerged from the stone path beneath the crowd. It roared, shaking the trees and buildings around them. Other smaller creatures descended upon Yuta, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki— all snarling with vicious intent. 

Ready to obey their master.

“Your precious students are well within my range.”

Suguru then grabbed onto the leg of the winged beast he arrived on. The large bird flapped its wings, sending gusts of wind through the crowd of sorcerers below. “Goodbye everybody!” The cult leader waved as if he were on a parade float. “See you at the war!”

Satoru starred as Suguru ascended into the clouds.

Until he was out of sight.

And once again, out of reach. 

“Do you think you’re the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you’re the strongest.”

Later that day, Satoru sat in one of the classrooms, his long slender body hardly fit in the desk made for students. Then again, he was bursting out of this desk as a teenager. He stared out of the window, watching as the red and organe color of the clouds deepened, painting the sky of Japan.

“My path leads elsewhere, and I plan on following it to the best of my ability.”

He glanced over at the wooden desk next to him, the dark wood covered in golden hues. The same desk the cult leader once sat in.

Satoru pulled out his phone. There he saw the numerous unanswered texts he sent to Suguru.

He decided to send one more.

Satoru: Are you going to force my hand?

Not even a moment later, his phone buzzed. 

Suguru: I’d like to see you try

Chapter Text

“Fine, you fight for love, I’ll fight to win.”

Those were his last words before the blast.

That Yuta Okatsu. Suguru knew he had his work cut out for him. That scrawny kid with dark under eye circles was trained by none other than Satoru Gojo. The head of the renowned Gojo clan. The inheritor of the Limitless technique and the Six Eyes.

The strongest.

But the cult leader really thought he would win. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He had to put on a strong front for his family. Convince them victory was within their reach. “Those daily affirmations.” He told Okatsu during their battle. “There’s nothing more important in life.”

“Next time…” Suguru staggered forward. His legs felt like lead, heavy and foreign beneath him. Each step burned. “I’ll get my hands on her for sure.”

Once he got back to the temple and recuperated, he would assess the damage. First — the damage to his now non-existent arm. Not having an arm would be a nuisance, but he would readjust, just like he’s always done. He would assess how many curse users he still had at his disposal, and then he would—

The raven-haired curse user turned his head.

There he was. In that stupid jujustu uniform, with his stupid… glowing… cerulean eyes.

Satoru.

And that’s when he realized.

This was it. There was no “next time”.

Satoru Gojo was here to finish him off once and for all.

Are you going to force my hand?

I’d like to see you try.

“You’re late again as usual, Satoru.” Suguru muttered as he leaned his back against the brick wall. He slid down the length of the bricks, his legs crumpled underneath him. “To think you’d be the one here at my end.”

It was fitting really. He remembered when he walked away from Satoru in Shinjuku over a decade ago. “Go ahead and kill me, there’d be a reason for that.”

That day he knew. He knew Satoru didn’t have what it took to kill him. It was the reason he even approached Shoko in the first place. But from that day on, one thing became clear. 

Satoru would eventually be his demise.

Satoru Gojo. His best friend. His… lover. As twisted and cruel as their love was.

The truth was he loved Satoru. He loved him when they were both first years, living two rooms away from each other. He loved him when he stole his clothes, his manga. He loved him when he rudely interrupted conversations, his lack of socialization abundantly apparent from the moment they met.

He loved Satoru when he resurrected from the dead over ten years ago, when the sorcerer standing before him became untouchable.

Romance was foreign to sorcerers. They weren’t afforded the typical high school experience. While most teenagers navigated their first crush, they navigated their classmates' untimely death — with their own death looming around the corner. 

Romance was foreign. So when he was finally able to have what he fantasized about after all those years…

He got greedy.

His sorcerer persona… his cult leader persona…

He thought back to his conversation with Yuki all those years ago.

“Neither one of them are your true feelings, they’re just both possibilities that you’re trying out.”

Possibilities huh… 

When he left Satoru all those nights, he would hold himself. Wrapping his arms around his own torso, trying to give himself the aftercare he denied the both of them. He told himself it was necessary, that he couldn’t allow himself to get too close. Sometimes he would seek comfort from Laure, Miguel. Even his secretary Manami. The family he built for himself after he left his family at Jujustu High behind.

It was the second time in life he abandoned his family. They say the third time’s the charm, right?

“Are you going to make sure my family is safe?” Suguru asked. It was a selfish question, but he had to know. He was going to die anyway, what was one more selfish request?

“Every last one of them managed to escape to safety.” Satoru responded. 

Thank goodness. He thought about the twins. Thank goodness they're safe. They would be upset, they would mourn him for probably longer than he would like. But they would be okay. They weren’t the strongest, they would be a grade three or two at best by Jujutsu society standards. But he taught them how to defend themselves. How to survive in a world that wasn’t built for them.

He hoped they would lean on the family he created. His first family, the people who he was biologically related to, was similar to the family the twins grew up in. Although not as outwardly harsh, they were more than willing to send their teenage son who “saw ghosts” to a special boarding school in Tokyo. His second family at Jujustu High would have trained the twins, taught them to sharpen their skills — only to send them on missions that would lead to their untimely death. 

All to protect those filthy monkeys. 

“The ones in Kyoto,” Satoru continued. “They were under your command?”

“Yes they all were.” The curse user smiled. “I’m a kind person, unlike you, Satoru.” He thought about the cursed corpse and the cursed speech user he fought earlier. “You sent those two assuming I’d defeat them, didn’t you? To set Okatsu off.”

Satoru’s response was surprisingly level-headed. “I trusted you’d be yourself.” His voice was soft, kind. “Trusted that a man as principled as you wouldn’t kill off young sorcerers without a reason.”

Trust… Suguru scoffed. 

“You want to talk about trust?” He shot back, the venom he meant to inject in his voice was flat, stale. Caught in his labored breaths. “I didn't think I’d have any of that left in me after everything I’ve been through.” 

The cult leader never thought much about dying. He knew he would die, most likely sooner than the average human, but never gave much thought to how it would feel. He didn’t waste time on such things. But now, he knew what people meant when they talked about their life flashing before their eyes.

He saw it all, the montage of memories danced behind his eyelids, glints of memories flashed like fireflies in an open field. A small boy, crouching in the corner of his room. Monsters , the child whispered, tears streamed down his pale cheeks. Later he would learn that those monsters were called cursed spirits. And he had a special gift, a gift that allowed him to control them. 

Special gift, or as Jujustu society labeled him, Special Grade. Him and Satoru. 

Satoru…

He recalled the last night they spent together. The way Satoru looked, the curve of his cheek, the dip in his collarbone, bathed in the moonlight. The way his fluffy white strands felt between the cult leader's fingers.

The crease in the sorcerer's brow, trying to dicpher the unspoken silence. 

He wondered then what would have happened if he allowed himself to get close. Allowed himself to fully embrace the man he loved.

Maybe he’d…

He allowed himself to entertain the thought for a moment before it vanished, dissipated like smoke. 

It didn’t mean anything really. These were the kind of thoughts people had at the end of their life, right?

Somehow, Suguru mustered up the strength to reach into his robe. He dug out the lamented card and tossed it toward the sorcerer “Return this for me, will you?”

The white-haired man caught the card and glanced down at it. “Was the elementary school your doing too?” He probed, his tone low.

Suguru smiled, a faint chuckle passed his lips. “It was.”

“I can’t believe you.” There it was. A hint of the anger Suguru was expecting to be met with. It felt soothing in an odd way. It felt like Satoru, a man who was victimized by the ways of the world, perhaps the most out of everyone. A man who after everything, deserved to be angry. 

“Tell me, do you have any last words?”

Last words… Suguru pondered the thought for a moment. 

He didn’t regret the path he chose. This world was crooked, rotten, wrong . It sacrificed the strong in order to protect the weak.

Sure he had some regrets, no one dies without them. But—

“No matter what anyone tells you, I hate those monkeys.” He thought of people like Mr. Kanamori, donors who paid egregious amounts of money to commit crimes, and then more money to protect themselves from said crimes.

He thought about the people from the Star Religious group, cheering the death of a girl no older than sixteen.

“But I never held any hatred for those in Jujustu High School.” He clarified. “I just…” The words tumbled out of him, pouring out of his broken body. His own voice sounded weak, far away. 

Another memory. A boy sitting on a bench at Jujustu High, his head hunched over, arms limp at his sides. The weight of the world on his shoulders. Crushing. “I just couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile while living in this world.”

“Suguru…” 

The white-haired god-like being approached him. Suguru turned his head subconsciously, drawn to his presence, even in his final moments. Satoru crouched down and—

Satoru spoke. His lips moved. But the words that came out of them… Maybe the cult leader was hallucinating. Maybe he was already dead.

“I love you, Suguru.” 

Suguru’s jaw dropped. 

He... what?

Words. The raven-haired curse user was good at words. He always knew what to say, even before taking over the Star Religious Group, where he commanded hundreds. But now words failed him. It’s as if the confession knocked the wind out of him. 

I love you too, Satoru.

Always have, always will.

Even like this. 

Even after you kill me.

I love you.

“The least you could do is hit me with some curses” were the words that came out of his mouth instead. 

He saw them. The tears that fell down Satoru’s cheek. Small crystal waterfalls somehow made the god before him look even more ethereal, something he didn’t think was possible.

He knew Satoru would eventually be his demise. It was fitting really. 

He felt it for the briefest moment. The rush of his lover’s cursed energy. 

Then everything went dark. 

Satoru didn’t know how long he sat there, but at some point, the blood dried. The sun came up, the birds were chirping, and the sticky red liquid dried on his hands. 

Crimson stained beneath his fingernails. 

Crimson stained his vision.

Was this real? 

Did he just—

Suguru... 

Suguru I—

He heard footsteps approaching. Nanami. He didn’t need to turn his head to recognize the blonde’s cursed energy. Compared to the last time he felt it, it was softer. More composed. 

The blonde kneeled beside him. His beige jacket was ripped at the shoulder, and his right cheek was scratched.

More crimson…

Satoru lost it.

Any shred of composure he feigned fell apart at the seams.

He grabbed Nanami’s shirt and sobbed into the starch blue fabric. The sobs shook his entire body, shook the ground beneath them. Infinity fluctuated around the two men, a seismic force that mirrored his internal strife. A seismic force that threatened to swallow them whole.

But Kento Nanami didn’t move. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the white-haired sorcerer.

“It’s okay…” His voice was low, soothing. He rubbed Satoru’s back, his hands were warm against the chilled fabric of the taller man’s uniform. 

“I—” There were so many words. So many things he wanted to say to Nanami. I’m sorry. I wasn’t actually seeing him, well— not at the same time as you. I killed him. I killed him Nanami. I had no choice. I had to. Do you hate me? Do you hate that I’m mourning him? Do you wish I perished with him? \

They all fell flat. Lost on the tip of his tongue. Lost in the space between his heaving breaths. 

Nanami didn’t offer any words, only his warmth. His stoic silence. 

And in that moment, it was enough.

Satoru’s emotions were violent, like the waves during a storm. Sharp white peaks, crashing in rapid succession. Forceful, relentless. And Nanami was like the rocks on the shore. Strong, steadfast, ever-enduring.

After minutes that felt like hours, Satoru got up, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. “I have to see Yuta and the first years.” He decided, straightening his back. 

Nanami got up with him, his brow creased. “Are you sur—?”

“Yeah.” The white-haired sorcerer nodded. “I’m fine. Or…” he paused, his head low. His throat suddenly tight. “I will be.”

Nanami smiled. The sun coming up behind him gave him an angelic glow. “Let me know how I can help.”

Thankfully Yuta and the first years were okay. Sure they were beat up, rattled, but just as Satoru thought, Suguru didn’t kill them.

“I never held any hatred for those in Jujustu High School.”

Nanami helped him deliver Suguru’s body to the twin girls Suguru looked after. Their cries of agony were ones both Satoru and Nanami knew well. They’ve seen many fallen comrades, and the twins were about as young as the two men were when they first started at Jujustu High.

Their cries of agony were ones Satoru knew well, yet they were piercing. They rang in his head, sharp, cacophonous, incessant. They haunted him in every moment of silence. Screams that begged to be heard. Begged to be reconciled.

He said you were his best friend… the brunette girl croaked. Why…

February 2nd came unexpectedly. The days and weeks after the incident were a blur, like the last of autumn's leaves getting picked up in the wind, and then all the sudden it was February 2nd.

February 2nd, Suguru’s birthday.

Nanami was in his apartment. The two sorcerers reconciled, no longer on non-speaking terms. They… well, Satoru didn’t know where they stood exactly. They hadn’t gone back to being boyfriends, but Nanami had been helping him. Covering for him on days where he was too down to teach. Cooking him food when he went too long without eating a proper meal. Cleaning his wounds when Satoru decided to be reckless and go on missions without Infinity, just to feel something.

Satoru didn’t need the help. The students were fine if they missed a day or two of classes. He didn’t need to eat every day like a normal person, and sweets from 7/11 were still food, right? He didn’t need anyone to dress his wounds, he learned the basics from Shoko years ago. 

He didn’t need the help but—

He didn’t refuse it either.

The morning of February 2nd, Satoru threw his new black bandana over his eyes. It fit tighter, more snug around his temple. “Hey,” He tried to keep his voice neutral. It felt off, like a guitar string slightly out of tune. “Just got a text from Ichji. Last minute high level mission, you know how it is. I’ll be bac—”

“Satoru.”

The white-haired sorcerer froze, his shoulders immediately stiffened. He turned around as Nanami approached him. Unlike the taller man’s demeanor, his hazel eyes were soft.

Understanding.

The blonde lifted his hand, cupping Satoru’s cheek. “No more secrets between us, all right?”

Satoru froze, unsure of how to respond. How did he know? Did something give him away? Or did he remember Suguru’s birthday, all those years later? Either way, it didn’t matter. Nanami’s touch made him soft, pliant. He nodded, leaning his head into the warmth of the shorter man’s palm.

The two visited Suguru’s grave together. Or the grave marker Satoru made. Since he gave Suguru’s body to the twins, he didn’t know exactly what they did with it— and he didn’t have a relationship with them where he could just go up to them and ask. He was tempted to follow them the days after the incident, but he thought better of it. He didn’t know the twins well, but he knew Suguru was special to them. They were probably one of the few people to see Suguru’s tender side, and he knew what that was like.

They deserved the right to mourn their guardian in private, away from his prying eyes. 

The sorcerer brought fresh flowers and sweets, kikufuku specifically. Some for him, some for Nanami, and some for Suguru. Nanami helped him plant the fresh flowers, the winter soil hard but still malleable. Once the flowers were planted and the kikufuku was gone, the two sat there in silence. The clouds overhead were still, and the breeze blew steady through the barren trees around them. 

The trees, the clouds, the sorcerer next to him. None of them judged. They observed quietly, understanding in their stillness. 

After an hour, Nanami took his leave, allowing Satoru to pay his respects in private. 

Winter came and went. Then spring, then summer. Just as the warmth seeped into the air of the small Pacific island, warmth seeped into the air between Satoru Gojo and Kento Nanami. It was slow, just like it was the first time. Tender in its pursuit. It was a pause in the space between them, a gentle hand on his upper arm, and then a kiss. One soft, gentle, slow kiss . 

A slowness that made it all the more sweet. 

A slowness that made Satoru whole again. 

Finally autumn rolled around, the leaves on the trees turned an array of rustic colors. Orange, yellow, brown, and hints of crimson. 

Satoru and Kento sat on the couch. There was a bowl of candy by the front door. Trick-or-treating wasn’t commonplace in Japan, especially in a luxury apartment building, but once the white-haired sorcerer learned about the American tradition he bought some “just in case”.

The two men were planning on staying in tonight, snuggling up on the couch watching some old Halloween classics.

But their plans were interrupted.

“Duty calls.” Kento sighed as he got up. The blonde shuffled into the bedroom, pulling from the selection of suits he kept at Satoru’s place. “You ready?”

Satoru sighed as well, begrudgingly changing into his uniform. He was looking forward to a chill night in. The two men were so busy nowadays. Satoru had his hands full with the new group of first years, another one of his students somehow wound up on the execution list. Kento was of course busy with missions, especially since his promotion to grade one sorcerer last year.

Oh well, they’d have many more nights to spend together, right?

Satoru adjusted the black blindfold over his eyes, squaring his shoulders.“Yeah, ready.”