Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your kimono stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes.

Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. You had been born with the Limitless technique, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up. Forced to wear a kimono in this hot weather.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?”

Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is it that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

—

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

Chapter Text

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over
-Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty?
-Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff
I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts
-How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You baulked at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid.
No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten.
s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late!
Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating

Duh
and being seen with yours truly
easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

Chapter Text

Weird did not even begin to describe the feeling that went through your chest and flipped in your stomach as you closed the door on your hotel room, bags in hand, and went downstairs to meet your new roommate in the lobby.

No.

New fiancé.

A fact Gojo was delighting in explaining to the hotel staff, animatedly conjuring from the depths of his mind some new bullshit on how you met. How he proposed. Some of the girls at the station were near puddles of envy. Others, happily told you how “lucky” you were as you handed off your keycard and checked out.

You had managed not to scowl the entire time, but just barely.

“You’re gonna have to send me a spreadsheet of all these lies just so I can keep up.” You muttered, swinging your bag into the open trunk of the car that had arrived to pick you both up. Oddly, the driver was not the same as the one from the other night. The man in question looked nervously in his rear view mirror, but also with an intense amount of curiosity.

“I already forgot um. Besides, not like we need one for the Gojo clan. They already know how we met.”

Gojo didn’t bother to get the door for you this time, sliding into the back seat without waiting for you to finish loading the car. You took your own spot, mirroring him in taking out your phone to check your latest messages. The driver would occasionally exchange looks with you in the mirror. You gave him a polite smile.

“Principal will wanna meet with you,” Gojo said abruptly, “I had my guys put in your rec already. Just let him know you want me as your mentor and when he brings me the request I’ll sign off.” Gojo didn’t even look up from his phone, “Old man will probably faint. I haven’t agreed to babysit anyone in—“

He paused, but only for a second.

“—Awhile!”

“Too busy?” You asked.

“Too much of a pain in the ass. And after, you can unpack your stuff at my place. I have a room on campus too, probably will spend the majority of my time there when I’m not on mission.”

“When we are not on mission.” You added with a smirk. Gojo sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. You enjoy this while it lasts, I’m already planning our next ‘date’ and you can bet before I’m done with planning the third one the family will demand a visit.” Gojo grinned, “When was the last time you’ve been?”

You groaned, the sound drawing a chuckle from Gojo. He knew damn well when the last time you were invited was.

“Do I get to plan any dates?”

He scoffed, “Why would you wanna?”

It was a fair point. You shrugged and turned to look out the window, admiring the view of trees and the greenery that surrounded Jujutsu Tech. Your days as a student were long over, but there was still so much protocol, so many hoops and tests and missions to jump through. If they had warned you being a sorcerer was like being a forever-student… maybe some of the others had it right. Ditching the school and the rules and wandering as independents. There was an allure to just throwing in the towel— but how would anything ever change if you just left?

You wondered if Gojo felt the same way, his personality not exactly meshing with the idea of a dutiful and obedient Jujutsu sorcerer. He was smiling lazily to himself as he typed on his phone and you found yourself content to just enjoy the silence.

The campus was not foreign to you and so you rebuffed Gojo’s offer to walk you in. Besides, if they came in together it might be too much of a tip off. There was no rule about the relation between a potential first-grade and their mentor, but given his tendency to rub the higher ups the wrong way, you didn’t want to risk any bumps. It was bad enough whoever that driver was had clearly heard you both talking. He seemed to be a staff member.

Passing through the halls though, you had the distinct feeling you were being watched— and definitely not by Gojo. If he was keeping tabs on you, you’d never know.

The cursed energy signatures were familiar, young and new, yet strong. You slid around a corner, barely flexing your Limitless to teleport around behind your spies, hiding out of sight.

“Wha— did we lose her?” The young boy with the pink hair gaped, rushing around the corner and then back, “I don’t see her!”

“Dummy, she probably heard you mouth breathing a mile away.” The girl muttered, slapping her fist into her hand with a disappointed grunt.

The other tall young man said nothing, his eyes drawn down into almost apathetic sleepiness.

“Why were we following her anyway?”

“Didnt you hear, Megumi? She is Gojo-sensei’s wife!”

“Fiancé, Yuji. Not wife.” The girl corrected.

“Fiancé, wife, girlfriend— whatever! Point is, how did we not know about her?! Who marries a guy like that anyway, she has to be crazy strong!!”

“She didn’t do so well on that last mission.” Megumi added, his voice flat. You winced slightly at his assessment. That was your cue. Shifting your energy, you appeared behind Megumi, forcing a tense, but still sufficiently bright smile unto your lips.

“That’s because my rat future-husband was busy showing off for his students!”

Megumi, to his credit, only stiffened. The other two openly shrieked at your arrival, the boy Yuji swiftly switching to an expression of awe.

“She moves like Gojo-sensei! I didn’t know she could do that!”

“Lots of people can do this… can’t believe he gets away with acting all high and mighty…” you grumbled.

You swore you heard a muffled sneeze from somewhere behind you, but your attention was suddenly wholly on Gojo’s two more animated students as they crowded into your space. Nobara Kugisaki— that was the girls name. And Itadori Yuji. The other boy you knew even before the mission was Megumi Fushiguro. Gojo’s longest running student and “ward” of a sort. Plus, he had affiliation with the Zenin. The Gojo clan liked to pretend it was as important, but even with the Six Eyes, there was no contest over which clan held the most power.

“Aren’t you a Gojo too? You have the Limitless right?” Yuji continued, smiling. This was Sukuna’s vessel? He seemed far too simple and far too sweet.

“Distantly. And yes.”

“That is so cool. You must be super strong.”

“I’m— I do okay.” You said, finding the praise a bit hard to accept. Sure in comparison to other third, fourth and even some of your fellow second-grade sorcerers you were notably talented— but how could anyone even judge such a thing when your true comparison was Gojo Satoru?

“When that curse hit ya? I thought— yikes. She is done for. But you barely had a mark on you!”

“Yeah, how did you dodge it? Oh! Can you do the thing?!” Nobara extended her hand, pressing her palm outward in what took you a minute to understand was a mimic of Gojo’s barrier technique.

You smiled faintly and lifted up your own hand. Nobara grinned as she tried to reach out and touch her fingertips to your own and she was stopped just short, hovering and wavering slightly in infinitely slowed movement.

“Neat.”

“I wanna try!” Yuji exclaimed and you happily demonstrated for the young man as well. Shockingly, you had to increase your output a little to repel him.

“I can’t have it up all the time, but it does help in a pinch.” You said and were surprised when Megumi finally spoke up.

“You make it sound like that somehow makes it less powerful.”

Had you? Your tone when talking about your abilities was always reserved. Cautious. You had no reason to gloat— no right to it. You masked your inner reflection behind a terse smile and offered your hand to Megumi.

“You wanna turn?”

The boy flushed.

“I’m… I’m good.”

“Are you going to be around campus today? Are you coming to our lesson?” Yuji asked, Nobara perking at the idea too.

“Maybe. I have to meet with the principal, but I’m sure I’ll see you all later.”

Satisfied with that, they wished you luck and departed, Nobara and Yuji falling again into animated conversation as Megumi steadily followed behind. It would be nice maybe to take part in a lesson or two… you hadn’t given the idea of teaching much thought, but just working with Gojo’s students you were starting to think you were getting the appeal of it.

Especially if you were one who loved to be adored, you thought with a scoff, wondering where Gojo had run off to if his students had been following you.

Dealing with principal Masamichi was a short affair. You accepted the recommendation news with humble gratitude and made your intention of being mentored by Gojo known. You were prepared to ignore the tension that seemed to permeate the atmosphere the moment you did so.

Masamichi simply stated he would let Yoshinobu know of the transfer. There would be no objections from Tokyo.

You could only imagine that your former principal would have something to say about all this— but he and the higher ups had done little to assist you in achieving first-grade status. Perhaps now they would realize they did not hold the keys to every door forward in their world.

Feeling strangely smug and self-satisfied, you left the office and set out to find the three students. It wasn’t difficult. Barely expanding your awareness of energy brought the familiar bright ray of Gojo into your mind. He was easy enough for you to find, you’d been doing it unwillingly all your life.

Near the outskirts of the woods that surrounded Jujutsu Tech you found Gojo shockingly studentless, sitting on the ground and playing what you could only imagine was an extremely high level of Candy Crush.

“Aren’t you suppose to be teaching?”

“I am! Kids are chasing a couple of third grade curses around the woods!”

“… and what are they learning?”

“Optimistically? How to dodge. Those things shoot out some kind of energy thing that definitely looks like it would sting.”

Gojo rapidly tapped across the screen, ending the level in record time before stashing his phone and leaning back on his palms. He tilted his head back at you with his usual smirk.

“You get your semi-grade one status?”

You nodded.

“Perfect!” He stood, brushing off his pants, “Now we can start your lesson! But first, I wanna see your baseline.”

He cracked his knuckles and then lazily stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Hit me with your strongest technique.”

“…what, like right now? Now, now?” You shouldn’t have been surprised honestly, Gojo was a loose cannon in every sense of the word.

“Now, now, babe.”

You scowled, the furrowing of your brow only seeming to make him smile brighter.

“C’mon. You won’t get me and you know it. Just hit me with your best Limitless technique.”

“My best Limitless technique is non-combative.” You said wryly, wishing you had chosen to wear slacks that day instead of a skirt. Your own uniform was a modified version of the Jujutsu Tech one from your time spent as a sort of “adjunct” instructor. This was definitely not your practice outfit.

“Is it?” Gojo asked, humming thoughtfully. Was he being purposefully obtuse? Most likely, yes.

“Show me your best combative technique.”

You knew what he was getting at. Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue. It was, without utilizing reversals, the strongest technique a Limitless user could achieve— or at least Gojo had made it so. You could do it, sure, but you were not sure on how long you’d be standing upright after you did. All your previous attempts to master the technique usually ended in you taking a sudden and unplanned nap. At best, the output was a little weaker, but sometimes you could hold unto consciousness and only be tapped for the rest of the day.

“I’ll faint.” You said quietly and Gojo lifted his hand to cup his ear, grinning.

“What was that?”

You huffed, “I’ll faint.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“I’m sorry, is this your technique or mine?”

Gojo gave a small shrug, “Obviously mine. You're just a knock-off.”

“Ya know, I activated my Limitless abilities before you.”

“I mighta heard something like that once— Now hit me.” Gojo took a few steps back, crooking his finger at you, “Come on, come one. Don’t be so boring. I have to know what your capable of it you are going to come on missions with me.”

“This is a terrible idea.” You grumbled, but swung out your shoulders, breathing out slowly to mentally prepare yourself if anything.

“Maybe! But like I said, I gotta know just how weak you are.” Gojo said, mirth in his voice— and mocking.

“I’m not weak.” You snapped out before you could real in your tongue, feeling your neck flush.

“You just said you can’t even do the base technique of our ability without fainting.” Gojo gestured his hand out as he gave another little shrug, “Kinda seems super weak to me.”

“I’m not you.”

“Not with that attitude you aren’t."

Okay. Fine. He wanted you to hit him? You’d hit him. Your cursed energy had already flared up, irritation giving way to anger as you opened that channel within your memory and your emotions— focusing it until all that bitterness, all that rage was nothing more than a battery for you to use to fuel your own jujutsu.

You knew Gojo would be fine, but for a moment, you nearly faltered. Having someone ask you to basically collapse them apart with the cursed equivalent of a black hole? Not exactly a normal every day occurrence.

“C’mon! Stop thinking about hitting me and hit me! Unless you wanna renegotiate our deal… hell, maybe it would be easier for both of us if I just paid your rent instead. I don’t know how I’m gonna manage to get someone so pathetic to first-grade.”

You were going to kill him.

You were going to rip the eyes from his skull and spit them out at the dinner table of the main family, teeth and gums bloody.

“Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

The cursed energy ripped not out from your body, but in. Focusing around Gojo as it manipulated space, dividing it down to the negative and seeking out to rend him apart. The area of effect was like a circle, but you pinpointed at his eyes regardless. Targeting what excess energy was left to his face.

The blast of blue sent clouds of dirt and grass into the air— or what was once dirt and grass. Having been nearly crushed into nothing, the debris shot around in fine powdered ash. When the air cleared, Gojo was standing where he had been before, entirely untouched.

Except for his blindfold.

One end had twisted, the fabric swirling up so tightly it was risen up against his forehead and revealing one bright, blue eye. It had gotten caught in part in the curling shrinking energy of the technique, but not enough to destroy it.

You let out a breath, stunned to find you were still standing.

“See?” Gojo said cheerfully, “Just a little motivation and you—“

The last thing you saw before everything went black was the ground suddenly rushing up to your face.

The low painful rumble of your stomach woke you, awareness of your body coming back in small waves. There was something soft tucked under your head… and your legs were elevated, knees curled around something.

You opened your eyes to the bright, unforgiving sky above and groaned loudly.

“Rise and shine, honeybun.”

His very voice made you wanna faint again just to get away from him.

“Really. Honey bun. Here, eat.”

A packaged sweet was tossed unto your stomach and you sat up enough to recognize the thing your legs were swung over was Gojo’s own lap. His phone was in one hand, the familiar blips and tones of a game audible. His other was rested on your knee, pressing down to help support your efforts to sit up.

He had taken off his jacket and put it behind your head, the white sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up around his elbows. Judging by the absence of his blindfold and the return of his sunglasses, he hadn’t been able to save the item from your rending.

You flushed, attempting to pull your legs away and recognizing with a sharp sound that he could easily have seen up your skirt at that angle. Gojo’s hand tightened on your knee, keeping you in place.

“You should let your blood settle back before you try squirmin’ so much.”

If he had looked he did not make mention of it, focus fully on his game. Your stomach grumbled again and you tore open the honey bun packet and into the soft, sweet bread in short time.

“You really did faint.” Gojo said lowly, “Not the greatest. We’ll need to start with getting your cursed energy output higher. You can call on it in a pinch, sure, but it’d be better to have an ongoing source rather than relying on me teasing you into snapping off something halfway decent.”

“Ya know, anyone else and that move would have turned them into soup.” You said, not in the habit of defending yourself, but something about Gojo making the assessment set off your nerves. Why would he compare you to a level only he could achieve? It wasn’t fair.

“I know! I mean— it was good! Don’t get me wrong. Just not good. Blowing shit up is great and all but not if it blows you up with it. Leaves you vulnerable to reprisal if the curse isn’t alone.”

You shrugged, “I guess I just always figure if I take something out with that, if there is anything left the other sorcerers will get it.”

“… so it’s a sacrificial play, for you?”

You nodded. Gojo switched off his phone and shoved your legs off his lap, standing up. He didn’t offer you any help as you wobbled unto your own two feet.

“You got some serious hang ups.” Gojo said and you couldn’t very well argue.

He tugged his blindfold from his pocket, holding up the tattered piece of fabric for your inspection— as evidence. Your eyes widened. You didn’t realize until now the full extent of the damage, the way the cloth was shredded in the center as if a wild animal had tried to claw his eyes out. You had been so focused, so preoccupied… no wonder the damage wasn’t fully resembling of the true Lapse: Blue technique.

“Here. A souvenir.”

“… sorry.” You mumbled, reaching out to take it. Gojo quickly moved, pulling the blindfold from your reach at the last moment with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes and went to take it again only for him to repeat the same trick, earning a wary smile from you as you snatched at his hand and he allowed you to take it the third time.

“I never—“ Gojo began and stopped, humming to himself as he seemed to reconsider his words.

“What?”

“Well, I was just thinking I picked the best possible choice for this charade!” Gojo began, “It may really take you the whole year to fall for me.”

You smacked him with the torn piece of fabric, earning a startled “ow” from him and the satisfaction you must have caught him off guard to get through his barrier. You seemed to be able to do that a lot. Showed what he knew letting his powers wane around you.

“In the meanwhile, there is no time like the present! Let’s go!” Gojo reached out, grabbing your arm by the elbow before you could recoil away.

“Go—”

The forest disappeared, the world refocusing in the middle of Tokyo. The sounds of birds and wind replaced with the sound of tire treads on wet pavement and the faint, constant roar of the city scape.

“—where?”

Ah— yes.

To an abandoned apartment building.

That radiated cursed energy.

Of course.

Chapter Text

“Nice place." you deadpanned, staring up at the peeling paint and falling loose shingles of the apartment.

“This isn’t my place— who do you think I am?” Gojo’s voice dropped in an over-dramatic show of indignation.

“I’m not being bait.” You said under no uncertain circumstances, the energy radiating from your own narrowed eyes enough to rival the cursed aura of the structure.

“But you do such a good job at it.”

You grunted, the withering look you shot him punctuated by a shingle falling off the decrepit roof and smashing to the sidewalk as if on cue.

A drop of water fell from the rolling clouds that had moved in over Tokyo and you instinctively lifted your arm and drew out your Limitless just as the heaven’s opened up and began to pour down. Your own orb of influence was not too large. Just enough to cover you the way a small umbrella would.

Looking over to Gojo, he had extended his own out to cover himself— you left on the outskirts.

You frowned.

“That’s rude.”

“You seemed to have it handled.”

With a click of your tongue, you strode forward and into the building, him trailing in behind you. Inside the oppressive atmosphere of cursed energy was as heavy as the humidity outside. It laid out through the air, wet and wilting and smelling vaguely of mildew and rot.

“Alrightie— head out! I’m rooting for you!” Gojo waved dismissively.

“Uh— last I checked the first-grade mentor did the mission? And I watched? Also did you just have a stroke or did you really forget I just popped off all my cursed energy demonstrating how shitty my Lapse Blue technique is?”

“Special grade in this case. And experience is the best teacher. And no, I did not.” Gojo chuckled to himself and you swore you heard him mutter ‘How could I forget?’ Before he spoke aloud again, “It’ll be easy. Probably a level four or three curse at worse. … eh— maybe a couple? Nothing like that one from before and you did fiiiiine then too.”

“I wouldn't call you letting me get launched through the air by an electrical current fine.”

It was also definitely more than a couple. You sensed no less than seven fourth level curses. Which was tantamount to fighting one or two higher level curses. One on one any of them would be easy, but if they ganged up there was a chance things could get dangerous for a single sorcerer.

Gojo had to know that too.

“Still pissed about that, aren’t ya?” Gojo asked with a hum, the playfulness in his tone dissipating to something almost verging on edged, “You’re hardly helpless. You even came up with that one Limitless technique— what was it again?”

You stared at him, jaw working visibly. Was he joking? Or was he that dense?

“When I use the telemetry technique I am entirely helpless.”

Gojo sighed, “Yeah… kinda a weird choice. I’d think you would— ya know. Not do that.”

“I can’t understand all the information of the telemetry unless I shut down my senses to only the sixth. Otherwise, I’ll literally just fry my brain like an egg.”

“How do you know? You done it?”

This was getting frustrating. He was getting frustrating.

“What is this?”

“Well, it’s a haunted apartment complex mission I picked up and kinda forgot about. Some fire... or a sickness? Something like that.”

“No, what is this.” You gestured between the two of you, “I have been honest about my limitations and my abilities and you just keep dismissing that. So what is this? Are you training me? Are you mocking me? Is this all some big ruse to make me look like an idiot?”

Gojo’s expression was unreadable behind his glasses and the constant, neutral yet unfriendly looking smirk he now wore.

“Why would I do that?”

“Boredom? Pettiness? Revenge?”

“For getting slapped twelve years ago? The only person who seems to be holding a grudge between us is you— and frankly, it has me wondering if maybe I messed up in picking you.”

His words were direct and flat, completely without regard for how you might feel. That was the Gojo you remembered from your youth— not this fake, happy-go-lucky attitude he oozed out. Not this weird mix of demure and then rude language he used, as if he had to remind himself every time he spoke to put on the mask he wore not just on his face, but over his words.

“Honestly…” Gojo sighed, “I haven’t thought about you once since then. I’ve been kinda busy being a badass.”

“Then why me?” You bit out.

“I told ya. You’re the least likely to fall for me too soon.”

“Of who?” You added, realizing you had never asked before.

“Of all the candidates my parents picked that night. I went and chatted with a few of them before I got to you and you seemed to be the only one capable of obeying the ground rules.”

You rose a single eyebrow, “… how many? Before you got to me. How many did you talk to?”

“Oh uh, this sounds like a loaded question!”

“But you’re the strongest right? C’mon, Gojo. Don’t be boring.” You hissed, mirroring his words.

Gojo was silent for a long moment and then he finally said simply, “All of them.”

“What?”

“All of them. I talked to all eight of the girls. You were my last resort.”

So there had only been eight of you that evening? You had never had a chance to talk to the others, but given the number of lesser family members with Gojo blood, it wasn’t uncommon to have such a small amount. You took a deep, measured breath and exhaled on a count to ten before you asked your next question.

“And why is that?”

Gojo barked a laugh, “Uh— well.”

“I’m weak?”

“No…”

“… too small chested?” You asked, regretting it immediately. But you did remember his remark when you’d spoken about how you’d gotten more— voluptuous.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t the big reason.”

You could have throttled him. You almost wished you’d saved your cursed energy for that very purpose.

“What was it?”

“Ohh this is so scary! C’mon, don’t make me say it…” Gojo giggled, not sounding particularly nervous at all. Only wary. Only concerned perhaps that his words might ruin his own advantage to be gained in this very new situation.

“I already said yes, didn’t I? You’ll take away my semi first-grade status if I back out now.”

“That is true.”

“So what is it?”

Gojo smirked and seemed to mull over his reply for a moment before with a tiny shrug he locked and loaded the word and shot it right through your chest, “You’re— annoying.”

“E…Excuse me?”

“Every time I hear about you it’s ‘ahh yes, the lesser Limitless is at it again, trying to be on par with Gojo’. Like a little dog constantly snapping at my heels.”

Gojo continued, “You won’t ever be on my level. You aren’t capable of that. That you even pulled this 'mentorship' for the first-grade status out of me as part of the deal was so annoyingly predictable… I woulda called the whole thing off it it hadn’t been for the fact I had no other options.”

He flashed you a grin, purposefully or indifferently obvious to the way your face was falling with every word. Pain flinching across your expression.

“This ‘you’ isn’t ready for first-grade status. I was hoping to pawn it off on someone else. You don’t even know who you are as a sorcerer… picking up scraps of my techniques and trying to work them out when you don’t have the Six Eyes… it’s annoying. So! I had you tire yourself out, and now you can go through this mission and show me what you can actually do when you aren’t trying to play at being— well. Me.”

You took another deep breath.

And unloaded.

“You asshole. Nothing about you has changed. You’re still that same arrogant little self-centered prick you were at fif—“

Gojo was unfazed as he interrupted you, “The jujutsu world doesn’t need another Gojo Satoru. That’s why there is only one Six Eyes. Get over it, go exorcise some curses, or go home to Kyoto.”

This was who you were going to have to pretend to be engaged with? No one was going to buy it. Hearing his reasoning was enough to make you want to turn and storm right out of the building and go home like he said. But another part, and you weren’t entirely sure yet how strong that part was, wanted to make him eat those words.

“You need me.” You said, forcing conviction into your tone, “You need me to make your life easier from your family.”

“I do— and I don’t,” Gojo said simply, “So what’ll it be?”

“Sending me up there without at least a cursed weapon? You might as well just execute me—“

“Don’t be so dramatic, I brought you one.” Gojo said and produced from the air a katana in a dark, lacquered sheath, gold inlaid into the smooth wood.

“Soooooo?” He gave the sword a little wiggle. You jerked it from his hand as you marched by. This was idiotic. Suicidal. You had barely enough cursed energy to maybe manage a quick teleported retreat if things got dicy and you were not about to rely on Gojo to come save your ass.

You were still skeptical that this wasn’t some elaborate ploy by a deranged, egotistical maniac— or if Gojo just really was this ‘tough love’ about his teaching.

Either way, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of proving himself right. You were not some knock off Gojo Satoru. You were nothing like him. None of the good, but also none of the bad— and you’d prove it.

And you did.

Barely.

The last curse exorcised, you sunk your katana into the rotten wood floor and leaned against the handle, black ichor dripping from the blade.

If you’d been at full power, this would have been a cake walk. Tapped out of cursed energy, morale shot to hell— and yet even though it was a struggle, you did it. Eat that, Gojo Satoru. You triumphantly thought as you ripped the blade free and flicked off the refuge from its tip.

Carefully, minding the numerous bruises and one rather nasty cut on your brow you’d gotten, you made your way back to the entrance of the apartment. Outside the rain had gotten stronger, the faint rumble of thunder and the smallest flashes of lighting occasionally giving you a better view of the interior.

When you got to the foyer, you noted with a grimace, Gojo was gone. So you went out the front door.

The rain struck the pavement so hard the drops flung back upwards, spraying your legs with water. It was nice, the clean coolness refreshing after being in the oppressive atmosphere— thought granted, it was now beginning to lift and dissipate with the curses defeated.

Gojo, to his credit, had not let you there. He wasn’t even playing with his phone, leaning against the far wall underneath the small canopy that covered the entranceway.

“You all done?”

You couldn’t help but think there was a double meaning to that question, one that you didn’t have the answer to. So you answered the other.

“Yeah.” You said flatly, reaching out to let the rain wash off the blood from the katana before you sheathed the cursed weapon and offered it back to Gojo. He turned from it, a silent offering. You fastened the sword to your side. Besides, he had said it already— you couldn’t refuse his gifts.

“Then let’s head—“

“I have an amendment to the rules.”

Gojo was silent for a long moment and you realized he was waiting. He had expected this.

“No more games. No tricks. You got something you wanna say, you say it. Like before. No kid gloves. When we’re on a mission, I’m like any other sorcerer. I won’t hold the things you say against you when we are in public as your ‘finacé’. And also—“

You strode forward, cutting off the distant between you two as you spoke, firm and low, “—This is the last time you burn me during or before a mission just to prove a point.”

Gojo’s head tilted slightly as he regarded you, not with a rueful smile, but with an almost serious expression. You wished you could read his mind as well as his aura as he stood there watching you, the only sound the rain.

“Then let’s head home.” He finally concluded.

“So you agree?”

“Seems like.”

“Okay good, cause I’m disgusting and I’m tired and I’m hungry.”

“Yeah speaking of which— you mind rinsing off with the hose or something before you come inside my place? Or just like, stand out in the rain for a bit?” Gojo said, the teasing lit returning to his voice as you fell into step along side him.

The rain didn’t touch you. You looked over at him and saw the drops sliding off the shield he slid around the pair of you. It was— nice. To have someone else deal with it rather than forcing out your energy yourself. And given your current state, you couldn’t have even if you wanted to.

He probably knew that, but still. You were not about to complain.

"Hey Gojo..." you broached the silence, earning a curious hum as he actually turned to look your way.

"Er... aren't your students still in the woods?"

Chapter Text

Gojo had texted you the address to his place in Tokyo before taking off to return to the campus and collect his students before they either got lost or drowned under all the rain.

The apartment building was pretty normal looking, but based on what Gojo had told you the majority of the residents were sorcerers or family members of sorcerers, so that at least provided you with some of the same sort of community you had in Kyoto.

Utahime had been blowing up your phone since the afternoon, no doubt having gotten word now about your sudden transfer to Tokyo. You winced, flicking through her increasingly desperate messages and several voicemails.

You would call her as soon as you got settled, Gojo having said your bags had been dropped off with the front desk earlier that day. The receptionist was all smiles until she checked your name and the apartment you were there to pick up bags for, something icy settling over her demeanor as she returned with them.

How that man managed to gather so many admirers remained a mystery to you— not like you had spent a lot of time worrying about relationships during your time in high school or even college. You’d been busy— what had Gojo called it again? Being a badass.

The key with the ridiculous cat keychain opened the apartment, which was situated on the highest floor and only seemed to house Gojo’s unit and two others. Despite the modest appearance of the lobby and outside, the apartment itself was huge— and spartan.

You wouldn’t have expected that from someone who seemed notoriously messy by demeanor alone, but the apartment didn’t have enough inside of it to make a mess. There was a plain black leather sofa and matching loveseat around a coffee table that looked like it had been snagged from Jujutsu Tech’s unused furniture stock for students. There was an impressive entertainment system which had your movie lover heart speeding. The tv it housed was easy an 100 incher, set inside a case that was positively stuffed full with every genre of film from thriller to horror to romance— foreign and otherwise. Was Gojo a big movie buff? You knew a lot of sorcerers used films as a way to practice mitigating their cursed energy, but this went beyond simply training.

This was a hobby. One lovingly cultivated judging by the fact he seemed to even keep the cabinets dusted.

The kitchen was just off the living room. No dining table, but a bar with just two stools tucked in. Not a lot of guests you gathered. The kitchen cabinets were mostly empty, the fridge equally so except for a few takeout boxes from your trip to that hole-in-the-wall noodle shop the night before.

You fished out the boxes, dropping leftover noodles and yakitori unto a plate and popping into the microwave to cook while you drug your bags from the front door down the adjacent hall. The bathroom was set between the two bedrooms and included a washing machine for laundry. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a full sized machine in an apartment in Tokyo.

The far bedroom door had a sign on it and roughly drawn little figure of Gojo’s own face in an anime style.

Stay out of my room! The little winking figure said with a tiny a heart scribbled by it.

You had fully intended to snoop— but the warning heeded, you instead opened the other bedroom door which was unadorned.

It was as plain as the rest of the apartment, with new tatami mats set over the hardwood floors. There was a futon curled up in one corner and even a stack of new bedding in shades of soft grey. It reminded you of the dress Gojo had gotten you.

There was a note there as well.

If you hate the color we can replace it. Towels are in your closet.

Simple enough.

You opened the bedroom closet and found the towels stacked in a neat little shelf. There was a dresser in the room too which you opened to put away some of your clothes— when a square cardboard box caught your attention.

You nearly choked on your own spit.

It wasn’t just any box.

It was a box of condoms.

An open box of condoms.

“Why the fuck…” you breathed to yourself, nudging the box over to the furthest corner of the dresser drawer with the tip of your finger. Was he such a horn dog he kept them in every room?! You didn’t even want to know.

Instead you left your things in your bag except for a change of pjs and hurried off to take a shower.

When you came out, hair wet and clad in a big comfy t-shirt and shorts, Gojo was still not home. You pushed the minute on the microwave again and took out the warmed leftovers, making yourself comfortable on the sofa as you excitedly searched the cushions for the remote.

Turning everything on, the last movie Gojo had been watching was still playing— Kill Bill: Vol 1. It was already to the part where the Bride came to Hanzo Hattori for a sword. You clicked off the pause and settled in.

Sure the mission had been a little rough and so had Gojo’s manners, but this? This was heaven. No bills? No teaching jobs? Just missions, shadowing and movies… well. While pretending to be engaged to a man your friends and family would never believe you would come within ten leagues of.

You felt the hazy brightness of Gojo’s energy as it arrived to the building and felt your heart give a small gallop. You pressed a hand to your chest, frowning.

The front door opened and you felt that same pulse jump to your throat as he loudly proclaimed , “I’m home!!”

“Fucking hell—“

“A good bride would say, ‘welcome home, my love!’” Gojo chided, raising his voice into a mock female tone for what you assumed was meant to be your line.

"… is that my yakitori.”

“Our yakitori, my love.” You said, throwing a smirk over your shoulder. Your satisfaction was short lived as Gojo softly gasped, covering his hands over his already covered eyes.

“Stoppppp, you’ll make me shy!”

“Are the kids alive?”

“Yeah— what kinda teacher do you think I am? Sheesh.”

He kicked off his shoes next to your own and came over to sit in the loveseat, propping his legs up on the coffee table. You could see the scuff marks now from where he had done it multiple times before.

You turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the strange sensation you felt going over your arms— like you were— god, like you were nervous. About being perceived. About being seen, relaxed and comfortable in what was technically his home.

You risked a short look over at him only to find him staring back at you— his glasses removed. He smiled.

You jerked back around so fast you winced, the bruising in your ribs from the fight that day still aching.

“I brought you something.” He said, voice dipping low.

You grunted, stuffing another piece of yakitori into your mouth and trying to focus on Uma Thurman.

“Here it is—“ he whispered lovingly and set on the coffee table— a stuffed animal? The ugliest stuffed animal you had ever seen— was it snoring? Was that stuffed animal snoring?!

“What the fuck is that.”

“A cursed corpse!” Gojo said gleefully.

It was in the shape of a brown rabbit… and had little red boxing mitts for hands.

“… and you are giving it to me… because?”

“Lending. It is a training technique, I’m sure you remember.”

You sighed, “Gojo, I’m not a teenager. I do not need to practice my energy output.”

“Oh I know. This one has a little added extra popped into it. The teddy bear is for newbies, this is for training on a much higher and more precise level.”

You shot him a dirty look.

“You wanted help training your Limitless. This is me helping.” Gojo responded, his eyes bright and almost luminescent in the dim light. It was harder to look him in the face when he wasn’t wearing his glasses or a blindfold… as if he could see straight through you. Right to your thoughts.

“I can’t read your mind.”

You jolted.

“That’s what you were thinking wasn’t it?” Gojo chuckled and turned his attention back to the movie. You heard a bag pop and noted he had stopped and gotten a thing of mini strawberry Kit Kats. Your interest was suddenly completely narrowed, hyper focused on one thing.

You whipped out your hand in silent demand for some.

“You gonna train with Mr. Rabbit?” He cooed, taunting you as he held up the treats.

“Fine. Give it.”

Gojo leaned over and picked up the rabbit, plopping it instead into your outstretched hand. The thing immediately came to life, letting out a vicious shriek as it swung… and froze in mid strike as it met the force of your Infinity. The rabbit quickly tipped forward back into sleep and you did the added measure of kicking it to the end of the sofa.

“Kit Kat first!”

“For a lucky charm? Alright, alright.”

Gojo dropped one packaged waver into your outstretched palm.

“I’ll make you a deal. Every half hour you manage not to wake it up, I’ll set aside another for you. Kay?”

“Five minutes”

“Twenty-five.”

“Ten minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“And you set aside two pieces, not one.”

“Deal.” Gojo said with a laugh and you leaned down over to the end of the sofa to reclaim the rabbit. You hesitated only for a moment before touching the soft brown fur, sitting back with the creature on your lap as it continued to snore.

“Mind if I switch the film up?”

“It’s your home.” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the rabbit who had stirred and made a half grumbling sound.

You would come to regret that statement.

You had seen your fair share of horror films. You had laughed your way through the Exorcist, rolled your eyes during the Conjuring and even fallen asleep through parts of Blair Witch… but this?

This was too much.

Ju-On was like kryptonite to you and if you ever found out who had let it slip to this man that this film absolutely terrified you, you’d beat them over the head with this rabbit and probably do as much damage as it had done to you.

The thing had managed to get through your infinity and hit you at least half a dozen times in the first half hour— you didn’t even want to know how little of a stash of kit Kats you were going to have at the end of this.

The trick was to keep your cursed energy at a certain level to keep the thing peaceful, but it demanded such a high volume that even the slightest distraction from the film or scare was enough to wake it. At one point you’d simply pondered what time it was and the thing came swinging at you.

You were tired. Keeping awake through fear and sheer force of will.

Didn’t help Gojo took extreme delight in your panic, laughing at inappropriate times in the film and only startling you further during the tense scenes.

“You’re a madman.” You grumbled, holding back the tiny rabbit as it tried desperately to punch you.

“And you’re siphoning your energy too much. Let it all out, girl— speaking of which.” Gojo pressed a curled finger to his lips, “Are you wearing a bra? Cause I think you aren’t wearing a bra—“

You threw the rabbit at him, watching as the poor thing ricocheted off his Infinity and went flinging across the apartment.

“Do you know any women? Like at all?” You said with a heaving sigh, getting up to go and reclaim the rabbit from where it was snarling and rolling around on the floor.

“I’ve known plenty.”

You tried to ignore the suggestiveness in his words, coming back to sit down and holding the rabbit up threateningly.

“Is that why there was a present in my dresser?” You said, glaring his way.

“Present?”

“Box of condoms.”

Gojo for once looked a bit taken back, the faintest shade of pink going over the tip of his ears.

“Ah— how did those get there?! Must be leftovers from my youth… ha…..the ones in the pink packaging, yeah?”

“…yeah.” You said, “Bubblegum flavored. That’s just cruel you know. Who does that to some poor girl? She’s already agreeing to sleep with you, like she doesn’t have enough problems…”

“Eh, they’re actually not that bad. A little bland even.”

The silence that stretched out between the two of you at that statement was suffocating. You— You did not want to know. Did not begin to want to know. And Gojo, to your surprised, seemed to be considering like he might want to switch the topic quickly himself.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask,” You began, throwing him a life line, “Why now? I mean, the engagement, your family pressing for you to start courting— other then from my parents, I don’t hear much about the main house.”

Gojo stretched out a bit more, unfolding his arms and yawning loudly. There were a couple soft pops from his back and he made the added effort of cracking his neck and knuckles, taking time to even crack his thumbs before he began to form a reply.

“The less you know about the main house the better, honestly. There are plenty of non-family higher-ups who are interested in seeing me tied down. A man with something to lose is easier to control.”

That was the truth. The jujutsu sorcery hierarchy was known to be ruthless, using family and friends to control and monitor its members… but when your ranks were filled with people who could easily decimate or utterly wipe out the entirety of human civilization? You could understand why they’d be nervous.

“So they figure if you settle down, pop out a few kids, put down roots—“

“Ugh, there is that word. ‘Roots’. All I hear about is roots.” Gojo said with a grimace, unwrapping another Kit Kat and crunching it between his molars.

“The powers that be are free to go on weaving their little schemes and hatching their plans— but they won’t get me under their thumb.“ Gojo hesitated, seemingly having more to say, but settling instead for bouncing his knee up and down several times before standing up.

“Let’s go!” He cheerfully declared, “Oh! Let me change first. Then we can go.”

“Uh, excuse me.” You gestured to yourself, clad in your t-shirt and shorts, “I have a personal rule— once the bra comes off for the day, it stays off.”

“I like it. Gives me something to look at on our walk.” Gojo said before disappearing around the corner and presumably into his room down the hall.

You shouted after him, “B-but it’s raining!”

He didn’t answer, leaving you huffing out a long sigh as you kicked Mr. Rabbit off the sofa again. The plushie landed with a grunt, but did not stir as you got up an hurried into your own room— until your eyes caught that Gojo had left his door open, light streaming down the dim hall.

Curiosity got the better of you and slowly you slipped down the hall, peering around the doorframe. Gojo’s back was to the entrance, bare smooth skin quickly revealed as he tugged his uniform shirt off over his head, not even bothering to undo the little buttons on his wrist until the last second. It was sloppy and nearly brought a giggle from your throat that you quickly swallowed down.

His room was— well. It was a mess. The kind of mess you had expected to see throughout the whole apartment. There was a smaller tv sitting on a stand, a PS5 next to it and several controllers off their docks. He seemed the type of guy to use one until it died and switch to the next until there were none left rather than keeping them all charged….There were also clothes in two laundry baskets in the room and which was meant to be dirty or clean you couldn’t tell. There were books— correction, manga strewn around and even several magazines. One you recognized by color alone— a special edition swimsuit photoshoot of a popular idol was in it and it had sold out in minutes for obvious reasons.

It was, in short, more like a typical high school boy room— down to the cute Digimon posters on the wall.

You were beginning to wonder if the other bedroom was where he… “entertained”, simply to keep from having to clean or suffer the possible indignanty of a girl being turned off by the things he kept. Speaking of which— was that a limited edition Metal Greymon model?! Your fingers itched with the urge to touch it, look over it, to ask him how long it had taken to put together and how he managed to even get one all at once… but you’d wasted too much time and even managed to completely miss him changing into a pair of jeans

He was half way tugging a t-shirt over his head when you whipped your head back out, hurrying down to your room and scrambling to at least tug a pair of sweatpants on over your shorts.

You’d left your door half cracked, the wood slamming against the frame and nearly making you jump out of your skin as Gojo threw it open.

“Ready, my bulbous cherub?”

“Don’t like that.” You snapped out, giving him a withering stare, “What girl wants to be called bulbous?!”

“I’ll have you know, we support bulbasaur supremacy in this house.”

“Oh? You strike me as more of a Digimon kinda guy.”

You’d never seen Gojo’s smile twist into a near cackling grin so fast.

“And you strike me as the non-pervy type, but given how you just spent a good minute staring at my ass, I can’t say that anymore.”

Check-mate. You didn't feel like correcting that you had been looking honestly around his room at everything but his ass, still too concerned about your own appearance. You didn’t look anywhere near presentable, but hell, it was just a walk.

In the rain.

And Gojo only had one umbrella.

“I’ll use my infinity if it gets bad, we just gotta take it for appearances.” He had said and you glowered warily at him.

“Is this a date?”

“Yep! Rain walk date. So like you agreed. Barring sickness or death, gotta come.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Gojo clutched a hand over his heart, muttering “direct hit…” under his breath as he slid open the door and made a show of stumbling out as if he were wounded. God did people fall for this? You smiled to yourself as you tugged on your shoes and followed him out into the hall and down towards the elevator.

Aside from the streetlights, the whole area was nearly pitch black. Rain pattered off the vinyl of the umbrella and you took a moment to roll up your sweats so the water wouldn’t seep through.

It was… oddly nice. There was no one around and after a little ways of walking, Gojo turned you both down a path that led passed a lane that was dotted with lights of soft purple hues and blues. It must have been some kind of temporary installment for a street festival, as many of the lights had been covered over with faux paper lanterns.

It was hard to keep from getting dripped on with an umbrella being used for two people, especially when one of you was freakishly tall and every one stride was almost two or three of your own.

“Slow down.” You mumbled at him, reaching out to twist your fingers into the hem of his t-shirt. Gojo stopped, looking down at where your hand was and then back up with a little smile.

And then he reached down, plucked your hand off his shirt and held it in his own.

“If you wanted to hold hands you just had to say so— now look. I’m all embarrassed too.”

He didn’t seem embarrassed at all, tugging you in closer, his palm cool in your own.

“You got a destination in mind?”

He hummed and you couldn’t tell if it were an affirmation or not.

“You do this a lot? Walk around at night?”

He hummed again, only changing the length and volume of the hum. You were trying to fill the space between you with words, hoping beyond hope your attention wouldn’t focus unto the place where his fingers were curled around your hand.

His hands were so big compared to yours, his touch surprisingly loose and gentle. You could have pulled away a million times by now, and yet it felt so— natural. Simple. When you touched him you noticed even the bright allure of his cursed energy in your senses seemed to fade. Melding into your own sense of self that kept you from being distracted by your own energy output.

It was easy to do. Next to him, it all looked the same. Yours and his. It felt the same.

His was just bigger— like his hand in yours.

When he spoke it almost startled you, despite the quite tone of his voice.

“Hey— so I’ve been wondering myself. Why say yes to this scheme? You probably could have found other options for your appointment to first-grade that would cause less trouble. Someone put you up to it?”

You shook your head, “Like who?”

“Higher-ups. Mighta got wind of what I was doing talking to those other girls. The whole point of this seems to be to get a girl in who will keep tabs on me for them. I didn’t trust those other ones… you could just feel the ulterior motive radiating off them— so uncute.” Gojo said.

“And I didn’t?”

“No.” He grinned, “But that could be your angle. Pretend to despise me, get my guard down…”

“You accused me of that before ya know. And I don’t despise you.”

Gojo ‘ahh’d’ but didn’t sound wholly convinced. You gave his arm a little swing, unthinking, the act feeling way too natural.

“I don’t despise you. I’m— envious. Don’t go acting like that is such a big deal! You already know!” You added on quickly, Gojo already seeming like he was about to fall into some weird over-dramatized tangent.

“Oh- oh! Oh! Oh!! A-are you confessing to me?! Is that what this is right now?”

He was a menace. You snatched your hand away and backed off, a curse dying in your throat as you stumbled from out of the umbrella…and right off the curb of the sidewalk. You floundered, saved from falling into a ditch only by Gojo’s arm snaking out around your waist and pulling you back, flush against him.

He’d dropped the umbrella to his side in the struggle, leaving you both open to the falling droplets that quickly soaked your hair and his. In the blue, purple glow of the street-lights, his hair took on an azure glow— like some otherworldly being from another plane, come to hide and live among the humans. His eyes were never human looking but in this atmosphere, he appeared ever more unnatural— ethereal and handsome. Like he didn’t even belong on this Earth.

The smile on his face was soft again, his eyelids heavy from behind his glasses that he let slide down enough to let him see you with his unhindered gaze.

“You’re funny, ya know?” Gojo said, his words light and breezy, “I don’t think you could be a spy for them if your life depended on it. And that’s a compliment, so don’t give me that look.”

You fussed, wiggling in his arms only to be held tighter.

“Gojo— let go, I’m getting wet.”

"Oh— oh say that again, but softer. More breathy… like this…” Gojo leaned in and you could feel the warmth of his words on your ear, “Satoru— you’re getting me so wet.”

“D-denied!” You half shrieked, pressing your palms against his face and shoving him back from you. Gojo broke into peels of muffled, yet horribly amused laughter. Straight up cackling like a goddamn witch.

The umbrella came back over you both, with what good it did. You were soaking and should have been shivering had it not been the fierce blush working its way over your entire body. Gojo let you go, but kept his grip on just your hand.

“You should practice saying my first name though. Two lovebirds together as long as we have been in secret would be dying to use each others first names by now.”

“You think so?” You asked dryly, noting the street you walked on began to loop back around towards the apartment. The rain had softened up too, falling in a light sprinkling.

“Utahime called me by the way. If I can convince her, I’m sure I can convince anyone.”

Gojo nodded approvingly, closing and shaking off the umbrella as you both ducked under the doorway inside. He opened, but did not hold the door for you, almost letting it swing shut. It was a bad habit you were growing used to as you deftly slipped in behind him at the last second.

Getting back to the apartment, you sighed knowing you’d have to shower again. Ju-On was long over, the player having switched to another film in black and white you did not recognize. They were speaking a foreign language— French maybe? The main man was dressed up in a costume like a lion, his great paws smoking as he pulled away in shame from the heroine.

Gojo gave you a tap with the wet umbrella, shocking you back into present.

“Go shower. I’ll go after. And get to bed because we have a busy day tomorrow!”

You almost didn’t even want to bother asking and as if sensing this, Gojo continued.

“It’s a surpriiiise.”

“Uh huh.”

“Not even curious?”

“Nuh uh.”

He pouted and for the second time, you laughed because of him. It was a rare thing, infectious, you had been told, and bright.

“There is one other thing you need to practice getting used to too—“

You were about to ask what that was when his hand came up behind your neck, fingers tangling into your hair and holding you still as he leaned down. Your infinity flared, defending you from the perceived danger, but when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, as the song went— something had to give.

His lips were soft and gentle against your forehead, the kiss brief and light.

For the first time, you could think of nothing to say. No biting remarks, no sour words. You simply stood there, dripping on the wooden floor as Gojo Satoru grinned down at you.

“Good night, my precious little jujubee. Or jujutsubee? I like that one.” Gojo said to himself and handed off the wet umbrella to your unmoving hands. He brushed past you on the way to his room.

Two words ran through your mind for the remainder of the night as you showered and changed and curled into your futon, covers over your head.

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Chapter Text

There was a strange surrealism to waking up in a new place. Not quite forgetting where you were, but feeling a sort of vigilance that would otherwise be non-existent in your own bed. In your own space.

Waking up to the bright morning sun in the window should have made for a good start to the day, but instead you felt a small measure of— sadness. Homesickness. You’d been in Tokyo for two weeks now in total, having lived out of the hotel for the most part while you worked and made yourself available to assist at Jujutsu Tech.

If someone had told you when you checked in, that a few days later you’d be a semi first-grade sorcerer— let alone an engaged one… you tucked your arms beneath your pillow pulling it up and folding the fabric over your face with a pronounced groan.

How were you going to pull this off? For a year? There was no point dwelling on it now with an empty stomach and an intense craving for caffeine. You hesitated, hand on the doorknob into the rest of the apartment as your memory provided in quick succession, the mental picture of how Gojo had looked, rain dripping off the pale strands of his hair— the feeling of his breath on your ear and his words, whispered low and tempting. Your forehead tingled with the phantom sensation of his lips and you quickly rubbed your hand over the spot to wipe it out.

This was stupid. Being nervous was stupid.

You yanked the door open and walked out, trying to patently ignore the way your stomach was knotting and fluttering in anticipation— only to find the apartment living room empty. You peered into the kitchen and again, was faced with a quiet, empty apartment.

There was a small note on the counter, tacked next to a kettle and a container of instant coffee— creamer is in the fridge, help urself, brb <3.

Despite having claimed the night before you two were going to need an early start, Gojo had let you sleep in. It was going on 10am, downright late compared to your usual wake up time. You felt better, the bruises on your ribs feeling a bit less sore and the cut on your forehead covered easily by a small band-aid.

You set the kettle unto the stovetop and flicked the heat on, grabbing a mug and unscrewing the top of the instant coffee mix.

Carefully, you set the mug as far back on the counter you could reach, taking in a slow even breath as you focused your cursed energy— the air wavering in a slight vibration around the mug.

With a slow exhale, you released a small portion of power, a lapse blue in miniature. The mug slid over the counter on its own, pulled in by the tiny pinpoint of azure light at the tip of your index finger.

A small smile formed on your lips, but quickly fell when you noted the tiny fracture that splinted down the side of the mug. You released the energy, sighing heavily as you picked up the mug and ran your thumb over the damage.

“Still not precise enough…but better than before.”

Before having involved a lot of broken ceramics and glasses.

Slowly you domed your fingertips, forming a small circle as you focused upon the open coffee container. One breath. One exhale. You slowly drew your fingers apart and felt the space shift inside the container, pulling the grounds together into a little condensed ball that floated out at your will.

Gently…slowly…

The orb of grounds was poised over the mug, now all that was left was to dispel your energy and let it fall into the cup—

And then the front door burst open.

The grounds imploded. Shooting coffee in all directions as the tiny granular pieces erupted into fine powder.

Gojo’s head popped around the corner into the kitchen, his blindfold in place despite the fact he was wearing dark jeans and a hoodie.

“… are you using the Limitless Blue technique to make coffee?”

“It’s not the Limitless Blue!” You said with a huff, “It’s— light blue.”

“Very original. How does it work?”

Gojo came around the corner, holding several grocery bags in his hands. The man clearly believed in the inherent weakness of making more than one trip. He set half the bags in front of the fridge and the rest he put on the counter, well away from your mess.

“Um— well. It takes the attraction properties of the blue technique and uses it as a sort of low level telekinesis. It’s mostly just for practice. This kinda thing is tiny enough that it doesn’t use a lot of my cursed energy.”

Gojo nodded, actually looking mildly— intrigued?

“Yeah, I get it. Like this.”

Within a second, Gojo moved the coffee into your mug, as easily as if he had used a spoon instead of his abilities.

“Kinda lazy isn’t it? I wouldn’t think it even worth giving a name.”

“Well that’s you.” You said, unable to hide the annoyance in your voice as you slapped the lid back unto the instant coffee jar and squeezed it on tightly. The kettle began to whistle and you moved over without looking at him to take it off the heat.

“You ever try doing stuff like this when you use your other technique? What was it called again?”

“Telemetry.” You said, snapping the kettle lid open and pouring the steaming water into the mug so fast it sloshed out. You swore and roughly pulled through drawers until you found a towel to mop it up.

“Right yeah, telemetry. So you ever tried to manipulate space and matter while you do that?”

“How? It’s just a far-sight technique. It lets me use my cursed energy to see others. I’m still where I am in my body. Can’t use abilities against something I’m not with.”

“You think?” Gojo asked, reopening the instant coffee and fishing out a mug for himself.

“Alright, out with it.” You said, turning to fix him with a glare, “We said no games. What are you getting at?”

“Just what I’ve said before. You should spend more time on that and less on the lapse technique.”

“Lapse technique is one of the most basic kinds of Limitless.” You insisted, shaking your head. Gojo didn’t argue, but went over to the fridge to pull out not one, or two, but three different flavors of creamer. It ran the gauntlet of white chocolate, raspberry and caramel. The idea of the combination made your tongue curl.

“You tried combining it into your Telemetry?”

“… No.”

Gojo poured a stream of creamer into his mug, smiling at you without a word as he mixed in another flavor right after.

“Stop that.” You murmured, suddenly tearing through the grocery bags and beginning to put things away if only to give your hands something to do.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re doing.”

“We’re brainstorming! Completely innocent.”

You sighed, “Forget shop talk. Didn’t you say there was some important fake-married thing we were supposed to do today?”

Regret panged through your chest at the positively shit-eating grin that spread over his face.

This was torture.

Inhumane, ungodly torture.

If you ate one more piece of cake you were going to implode next, but in a second Gojo had arrived with yet another sampler of tiny square confections.

“You know, cake tasting usually happens after you set a wedding date. Which we aren’t even going to do—“

“Hush.” Gojo said, reverently slicing off a corner of a particularly moist, chocolatey piece and all but moaning as it touched his tongue, “You are my lovely, incandescently happy fianceé who is dying to try cake for our upcoming nuptials, remember? Say ‘ah’!”

Using the same fork, he sliced off a piece for you, holding it level in the air for you to claim. You shot him a dark look.

“‘Ahhhhhhh….’” He repeated, bringing the fork close enough to get icing on your lips. Instinctively you parted your lips and received a mouthful of chocolate, unsurprisingly finding it was yet again delicious.

You moved to wipe the icing away, only for Gojo to beat you to it, catching it off with his thumb before bringing it to his own lips. He sucked the chocolate off without a second thought or seeming to notice how your face burned at the attention.

“Besides, call it a treat before I throw you to the wolves— the main family already called. They want me to bring you to the house asap.” Gojo set down the fork and folded his hands beneath his chin, “Which means we’ll have to get you a proper ring too! Can’t have an engagement without a ring.”

“Oh— right. Shit. Um, well as long as it isn’t anything too crazy.” You said, picking up his discarded fork absentmindedly and slicing yourself another bite off the cake.

“Preference?” Gojo said, voice teasing as he gently bumped your knee with his own.

You resisted the urge to jolt, instead knocking your knee back into his and enjoying the faint wince that came over his features.

“Nothing gawdy. It needs to be practical— a ring I can wear during missions and not worry about getting caught on something. That or I’ll have to take it off when I’m working.”

“You won’t wanna take it off? Oh— be still my trembling heart! I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

You blinked, your mind trying to unpack now the implication you hadn’t even mean to reveal in your words.

“W-well. If I were getting engaged, I wouldn’t want to take it off. I’m just making sure it is believable. I still have to convince my parents and the Kyoto sorcerers this isn’t some scam if the family is going to believe this is a real engagement and not some joke.”

Gojo frowned, “It’s not a joke…”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do… but still.” He sighed dramatically, “I knew you’d be tough, but I kinda hoped you’d be a little more enamored with me by now.”

The sound you made was somewhere between a scoff and a choke as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t exactly done anything worth being enamored over…”

That was a mistake. Gojo’s smile dropped to a slyer, sleeker thing, half turning in his chair towards you until his thigh was flush against your own. He set his hand on your knee, holding you in place as he leaned in closely.

“If you want me to treat you more tenderly you only have to ask.”

This wasn’t the cooing, flirtatious tone you had come to expect from him. The seriousness of his voice, the bluntness of his words— it was enough to make all the blood in your body seem to rush suddenly to your face, flushing down your neck. It sounded real. His hand on your knee slid up, thumb rubbing a small circle into the soft yielding skin of your inner thigh.

“Don’t be an ass.” You said, words clipped, trying to regain your composure before he could get any further delight out of flustering you. You reached down and gripped your hand over his in attempt to dislodge it, but Gojo twisted his wrist around instead to take yours, drawing it up. His grip was firm and unyielding, keeping you from pulling back.

He pressed the tip of his thumb gently into the base of your ring finger and looked at the spot thoughtfully.

“You have such small hands.”

There was that tone again. Not flirty, not enticing— well, not on purpose at least. Quickly, before you could protest, he kissed the top of your hand, letting go once he had. Gojo’s entire demeanor shifted then back to one of playful silliness as yet another round of cakes appeared.

“Please— no more.” You groaned, refusing another forkful.

“I’ll take pity on you, but only if you say, ‘Please go easy on me, Satoru!’” Gojo said around a mouthful of what you could only guess was some kind of Oreo cake.

“Why are you trying to make me sound like an under class-man!? We're the same age..” You scowled, trying desperately to ignore the warmth radiating from where his leg was still tucked up against yours. He seemed to have no intention of moving.

“Humor me. You’re supposed to be practicing saying my first name anyway, aren’t you?”

Okay. He had a point. The idea of saying his first name so casually sat weirdly in your stomach and no doubt if you didn’t start practicing now he’d just keep delighting in it. It was better to make him think saying his name was a non-issue, simple and meaningless.

You remembered his request the previous night. Softer. More breathy. You leaned your fist against your cheek and looked up at him through your lashes, easily summoning up a pout.

“Satoru, please… go easy on me.”

You felt the rigidness that shot through his body at your words, the muscles of his leg suddenly going tense. Gojo paused, fork still held between his lips as he slowly looked up at you. You couldn’t see his eyes, the blindfold prevented that, but there was an almost stunned look to his expression regardless. Stunned and yet delighted.

It was very subtle, but you thought you saw the tips of his ears turn a little redder. Suddenly, his leg was gone from yours, crossed now over his other knee.

“So we ready to go?” You said, feeling a wash of smug satisfaction. Was this how he felt when he teased you? You could understand why he did it so often, this was fun.

“Give me a minute.” Gojo said, smiling even as you swore the blush creeped across his cheekbones.

“… are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking.” You deadpanned, noting he crossed his legs a little tighter before quickly jerking your eyes back up and away from his lap.

“What can I say? I’m a healthy young man!”

You rolled your eyes and snagged the fork back from his hands.

Stuffed positively full of cake, you wondered if it was all part of Gojo’s plan to keep you docile and compliant, half in a sugar coma as he drug you from jewelry store to jewelry store. Your tastes did not match. Fake engagement or not, Gojo was insistent in his attempts to go “all out”, the price tag of most of his choices enough to make you nearly faint on the spot.

Forget a car. You could put a down payment on a house with some of these rings.

Meanwhile, every small, modest band-only option you preferred was immediately veto’d. The argument being that no one from his family would believe he was serious about a fiancée he bought anything less for and your counter argument being no one in yours would believe you’d let him go to such excess.

It was, in short a stalemate, and one that was quickly becoming irritating.

“Too big.” You dismissed as Gojo pointed out yet another large carat diamond, “And diamonds are so boring.”

“Ah yes. How could I forget?” Gojo said with a scoff, his own demeanor suggesting he was no longer taking cruel enjoyment from dragging you around. There was a permanent frown in the corner of his mouth, replacing the easy grin he often wore. It was good to know even he didn't have limitless everything. 

“I’d think you’d want to pick something that matches your eyes.” You said, given his choice of dress for you the previous evening.

Gojo, having long reached the end of his patience, seemed to relent just a fraction.

“Blue diamond?”

“Aquamarine?” You countered and Gojo mulled over the word for a moment before nodding to the patiently waiting employee to bring out a set of engagement rings with that stone. For the first time in several hours, you were leaning eagerly over the counter, eyes alight as you looked through the rings.

“Wow… they are so beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Gojo said with a lopsided grin, “They are aren’t they?”

“The rings, not your eyes, doof.”

“But you think my eyes are pretty too.”

You ignored him, picking from the selection a ring that instead of gold, rose or silver band, was set in black gold. The ring had the appearance of a wreath, set with larger aquamarine stones and even accented with the diamonds Gojo seemed set upon. It was weird how perfect it felt, a representation of him in every way.

“I like that one.” You said quietly, not even wanting to vocalize the desire. The ring was so expensive. Was it even okay for you to ask for something like this? It wasn’t like you’d get to keep it in the end, but still it felt almost too much to request.

As if sensing this, Gojo simply plucked the ring off the mat and gestured for you to give him your hand. You did so, reluctantly, feeling your chest squeeze in an unpleasant way as he slid the ring unto your finger.

He held your hand, giving the ring an appraising once over before nodding.

“That works. Looks like something I’d buy.” His tone was distant, clinical and business like, “We’ll take this one. Just bag the box, she’ll wear it out.”

You were about to protest, feeling the weight of the ring on your finger like a sudden, overwhelming chain… but the employee was already off, taking the card Gojo had handed to him and disappearing.

“Welp. Easy part is over.” Gojo said with a sigh, leaning back against the glass counter and tapping his foot back and forth.

“Hard part will be this weekend. Dinner at the main house.”

“Will your parents be there?” You asked, dreading the reply. Gojo gave a dismissive shrug, a weird response, but one you didn’t feel in a position to question. Ever since you’d picked out the ring something had soured his mood, as if you pressed too hard the serrated, sharp edge of him would peak out and cut you.

“Do you hate it?” You risked asking, his face snapping up to you.

“What?” He asked sharply, voice tensing.

“The ring?”

His shoulders sagged a bit, a look of relief passing over his features.

“Nah. It’s fine. Does the job it needs to do, so not worth thinking that hard on anyway. If things go well, maybe I’ll even let you keep it once we’re done. Or I can just give you the cash.”

It was your turn to tense up, insulted by the very idea of him paying you. Sure, in a way he was, but that was an exchange of things you both needed. A rank you even would go as far as saying you deserved— but money? No. You felt the back of your throat sour with bile at the thought.

“You can have it back when this is over.” You replied tersely.

“Alright.” Gojo said with a shrug. The employee returned with a small bag, a complimentary ring cleaning set and the box tucked inside. You took the bag, arm going lax with a thump at your side.

When you left the store you were both silent.

“I have some stuff to take care of at the school.” Gojo said suddenly, pressing his hands into his pocket, “You good to get home on your own?”

Home.

You resisted flinching at the word. His apartment was not your home.

“Yeah. I think I’ll go meet Utahime.”

“Cool. I’ll probably be staying at campus for the next couple of nights, so don’t wait up.”

You nodded cooly and without further ceremony, Gojo headed down the opposite street, whistling vaguely as he went. The weight that had seemingly settled on him looked to evaporate the further he got down the road, disappearing from view.

Your throat hurt. Fingers curling tightly into the handle of the bag until your nails bit into your palm. You pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed Utahime’s number, unsurprised when she picked up within sheer seconds.

“I have been trying to get ahold of you for two days!” Came the sudden and rushed words, “Where are you?! Are you still in Tokyo? They told me you transferred and that— that…. You’re engaged! To HIM?! Please tell me it is a joke! It has to be a joke!!”

You pulled the phone from your ear, repressing a sigh.

This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

It was not out of character and thus unsurprising when you learned Utahime was at this moment in Tokyo. When you had not responded to her messages, she’d taken the first opportunity to come into the city, stopping first at Jujutsu Tech where her suspicious— and fears— were confirmed by Gojo’s own students.

You met her at a small cafe, happy to drink real brewed coffee with a generous helping of caramel flavoring and steamed milk. She ordered a green tea, but had not begun to drink it. Her hakama had drawn a few quiet stares, but this was Tokyo. Street fashion often mimicked the historical dress of shrine maidens so what attention was garnered was quickly lost.

Utahime leaned her forehead into her palm, digesting the simple explanation you had provided having felt hesitant to spin a more elaborate lie. Truth was easier.

Well. Abridged truth.

“You are engaged.” She said, asking despite her inflectionless voice.

“Yep.” You replied, sipping your coffee.

“You are engaged to Gojo Satoru.”

“Yep.”

“… you are engaged to Gojo Satoru?! To be married?! To Gojo?! Bane of our existence? Persistent thorn in my side? Narcissist of the first grade?”

“…yep.”

Utahime lifted her head to give you a withered stare, helpless and confused and falling quickly into a look of open despair.

“But... why?”

This is where you needed to lie. To say that it was because you liked him, loved him even. Because you had secretly been together these passed few months or even years and found you didn’t hate him at all. Not one bit. But instead, looking at your longest friend and fellow sorcerer, you decided to take a risk.

“He asked me to— in exchange, he had my first grade status fast tracked.”

Utahime’s mouth twisted, brow furrowing in further confusion.

“… we’ll end it in a year or so— it’s just for appearances.” You said in a hushed voice, leaning forward. Understanding flashed over Utahime’s face and quickly gave way to open relief.

“Oh! Oh thank every force on heaven and earth!! I thought he’d stolen you from me! Brainwashed you! Coerced!”

“I was thoroughly bribed.”

Utahime shook her head softly, “I can’t believe you’d say yes. I know how much first-grade status means to you… but, Gojo? Gojo.”

She groaned, picking up her cup and taking a long drink, most likely wishing for something stronger. You couldn’t argue with Utahime— she knew better than anyone the depth of your silent, bitter anger at the very mention of the Six Eyes. It was impossible for you to exist as a jujutsu sorcerer and not be compared to him. You’d tried, for a long time you’d tried so hard to be his equal— his match.

And judging by Gojo’s entire lack of interest in you or your career as a sorcerer until he needed a fake engagement— well. You’d failed. Not to mention just the general attitude of the higher-ups and their dismissal of your skills. Gojo’s words still itched in the back of your mind, his subtle nudges for you to refocus your training… maybe he intended to be helpful? It was hard to tell.

“Does this mean I can’t complain about him with you anymore?” Utahime grumbled, leaning her cheek against her fist.

“Oh absolutely not. Complain away! Just uh— dont tell anyone, okay? About the arrangement. Especially try not to let Gojo in on you knowing. I was supposed to convince you i was madly in love with him.”

Utahime sputtered out a laugh, but then her expression turned serious.

“Principal Yoshinobu was— upset at the news to say the least. About your engagement and your leaving. Will you come back? Once this is all over?”

“I will. If I can keep things smoothed over with him.”

Utahime nodded, “I’ll do what I can to vouch for you. I just… you. Engaged to Gojo Satoru.” She suddenly flushed red.

“Are you— you know? Are you— uh.” Utahime gestured vaguely, tiptoeing around saying the words you could already guess.

“I’m not sleeping with him if that is what you want to ask.” You finally said for her, rolling your eyes. Utahime looked even more relieved.

“Good, I have heard horrible rumors. He is a womanizer of the worst degree! You’ve seen him. Flirts with anything with a pulse… so far.” Utahime added with a disapproving grumble.

He had flirted with you too— well. Sorta. You would have never mistaken his actions for someone’s who was genuinely interested in you. There had been a few moments, maybe, but if his cold send off after buying you an engagement ring of all things was any indicator, along with his rule set for his deal, he had no intention of pursuing anything meaningful with you.

Which is just fine, you told yourself as you set your coffee cup down a decisive clink.

True to his word, Gojo did not return to the apartment that night or the next. You hadn’t heard from him at all, not a single text or call. In all honesty, it was kinda nice at times to have the place all to yourself. You sprawled out on his sofa, ordered take-out and binged through his entire collection of vintage horror flicks. The majority of his collection was horror, which made sense given its uses as a training tool.

You’d taken the initiative to watch a few films with Mr. Rabbit even, managing to keep the cursed corpse snoozing through Dead of Night, The Thing and most of The Haunting. You checked your emails, scrolled through online shops and in general caught up on nearly a decades worth of pure mindless relaxation. It was only when you tore away from your phone or the TV long enough to focus too much upon the silence of the apartment that your felt a subtle twist of aloneness.

You were used to the sounds of life around you, couples and children and single working folks moving throughout your old apartment building— even the sounds of the city were muffled in this building. Keeping the window open at night helped, but each night before you went to bed you gazed down the hall at Gojo’s shut door, no light illuminating the frame and felt a sudden pang.

Swearing beneath your breath you threw yourself back onto the sofa and began to queue up another horror film, tapping your phone against your thigh.

You could text him. You had already a few times, the taunt of an unanswered read receipt burned into your vision. It had been simple things, just friendly check ins. Nothing major.

-How are classes?

-Did you take the students on a trip for a mission?

But never once did he respond. And it frustrated her further when she thought how all those questions were just empty, fluffy buffers between her and the one question she really wanted to ask.

When will you be home?

"You’re— annoying."

You hated that his words still rang in your head. You hated that you were letting them affect you and how you acted. You hated that you worried he was thinking them while he ignored your messages. You hated him too, for having even said them, for having meant them.

The phone’s screen lit, followed by the ping of an alert.

The sudden sound was enough to make you jump, instinct making you raise your hand to brace for the impact of Mr. Rabbit’s fist… but it did not come. The cursed corpse remained sleeping against your side. Your chest swelled with something else then— pride— as you opened up your text messages.

Speak of the devil.

Pay attention to me.

No emoji, no playful banter and punctuation to boot.

You stared at the words again, outrage swirling with confusion into a bitter concoction within your chest. Really? Really? He didn’t bother texting or calling or otherwise speaking to you for nearly three days and now he demanded your attention? After ditching you and acting all aloof?

-Are you only texting me because you're bored?

they got me doing actual paperwork rn

REAL paperwork! like some kind of teacher!

(‘A`)

You felt the roof of your mouth tingle, heat breaking out over your cheeks. You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you texted back.

-You'll live.

Don't be such a brat.

Just chat with me for awhile.

Okay. Now you were getting pissed. Maybe it was petty, maybe it was stupid, but something about his attitude was rubbing you as raw as sandpaper. Releasing your tongue sharply with a click, you tapped out the next words with quick, steady motions and shot it out before you could overthink it.

-No

-I don't want to bother you with unnecessary msgs given you find me annoying enough already

There were not dots, but you saw the read receipt go off. A few minutes ticked by, still no response. 

Dots, at last. Vanishing and appearing. Hesitating.

That one’s on me.

Then nothing else. Was… that an apology? You snorted. How unsurprising that Gojo Satoru was incapable of forming the even faintest semblance of an apology. You weren't some stupid chick he picked up on some dating app, waiting with baited breath for him to bless you with his presence and you were not afraid to remind him of that fact. Fake fiancé or not. No where in the rules did it say he got to treat you like a toy to pick up and put down when he pleased.

-you aren’t very good at this

-are you?

I am exceedingly good at multiple things

You will need to be more specific

（○゜ ε ＾○）

-dealing with girls who don’t constantly orbit your dick

Ouch

Speaking of dick

My father will be at tomorrow’s dinner

You paused, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. You knew very little of Gojo-san, other than his position as heir to the head of the family when his own uncle would pass on. The older man had no sons of his own, and while most families had abandoned the archaic Ie System of families decades ago, a lot of the jujutsu sorcerer bloodlines still practiced a variant version.

They had no legal sway over anyone, there power lay instead over advancements within the sorcerer rank or through financial coercion— a common enough abuse in any family, let alone theirs. Inheritance was a tricky subject, best done away from the scrutiny of the legal system. Not that that was an issue when you were a family of elite sorcerers.

These dynamics had kept you stuck where you were— and you were even more fortunate than others. There was a girl from the Zenin family you had heard of form the Tokyo branch that was stuck in fourth-grade status despite her prowess due to familial interference.

You had not been a golden child, but you had not been a problem child either. The Gojo family had seen no need in hindering you anymore than they did, a fact that was now moot with your place as a semi first-grade granted.

It’s gonna suck

Like I want you to understand how purely awful this is gonna be

So be prepared

And please please PLEASE whatever you do, do not cry

I hate comforting crying people!!!

You rolled your eyes.

-I am sure I’ll manage just fine

-and I promise I’ll behave myself

Lol if you wanna

-I can’t imagine my getting into an argument with Gojo-sama or your father would be a GOOD thing for either of us.

-I’m just saying I’ve got it. You can count on me

Wow… how dutiful! (´ ∀ `)

How did lunch with Utahime go?

There was no sense in telling him you had already spilled the real reason for your engagement to Utahime.

-Fine. Kyoto is settled. Principal Yoshinobu wasn’t happy but what is new

Glad to hear it~

The conversation tapered off, that unasked question still on the tip of your tongue. You checked to make sure Mr. Rabbit was still slumbering peacefully before you finally fired off quickly.

-Will you be home tonight?

You set your phone down, forcing your eyes to the movie screen and even flicking the silent feature on so you could keep from listening keenly for the tell-tale chime or vibration of an incoming text. But in the dark of the living room, you saw immediately when the screen lit up and before you could stop yourself you turned the phone up.

Do you want me to be?

No emoji. No teasing. His voice that read the words within your head was the same tone, low and husky that had whispered in your ear, sending a shiver up your thighs. It was a good question. Did you want him to be? Your feelings on the subject of Gojo Satoru had always been complicated— was it worth complicating things any further? So far he had only lightly stirred the water, but a part of you wondered if he was perhaps hoping to add another ‘benefit’ to this arrangement.

He was handsome, that was indisputable. Unhinged and possibly deranged, but handsome and easy-going with a decent sense of humor… or at least he appeared as such.

Utahime’s words stuck in the back of your mind too. You would just be another conquest, another notch in the belt of the Six Eyes— an amusement to be discarded. That fact was inevitable by the very agreement you had entered into.

-Doesn’t matter to me. Come by if you want to.

You tossed the phone back down onto the sofa. Mr. Rabbit stirred and you quickly attempted to modulate your emotions down to prevent him from waking up swinging. The phone did not light up again, your focus returning in part to the film, eyes darting over to the device every handful of minutes. Eventually, you forgot to worry over it, focusing upon the film until the credits rolled.

On the way to bed, you checked your phone one last time.

After demanding your attention, Gojo had left you on read.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong.

That was the innate feeling you drifted from sleep with, your shoulders flexing in and shifting in an unconscious effort to regain equilibrium.

The attempt was futile. And the feeling was wet.

And cold.

You woke with a groan, blinking blearily into the sun-drenched room and turning your cheek towards the presence you sensed at your side.

And then the wet coldness was on your cheek.

“What the fu—“ you jerked up and away, a familiar amused chuckle calming the sudden burst of adrenaline that threatened to arc through your veins.

Gojo held an iced coffee out, sipping from another with a high lofted lid and a mountain of whipped cream on top.

“This is my room.” You said, voice coming out sullen and moody. You were still annoyed from the other day, and even more so when you realized a small burst of warmth had erupted in your tummy at the sight of his bright blue eyes, glinting with mirth as Gojo sipped on the end of his straw.

“I knocked.” Gojo said simply, tilting the iced coffee back and forth temptingly. You scowled, but took the drink, noting how his eyes immediately flicked down to the ring on your finger then back up. Or maybe it was just your imagination. The flavor of hazelnut and toffee spread out over your tongue, a nice blend of sweet and coffee, unlike whatever monstrosity Gojo was currently inhaling.

“Did you just get in?” You asked, and Gojo shook his head with a small, sly smile.

“… oh, so you did come back last night?” You tried to keep your tone light and uninterested, sipping your drink and even letting your eyes cast out over the room. As if you were checking the time on the clock on your dresser.

“You were asleep.” Gojo said, leaning his weight back and plopping down to sit on your floor. He had changed from the Jujutsu Tech uniform into a plain dark hoodie and jeans, something about it making him look— younger. Boyish. Not to mention the way he was openly and unapologetically staring at you as if he were waiting for something.

“Didn’t wanna wake you. You already seemed pretty mad!”

There it was.

“I’m not mad.” You protested quickly, voice rising slightly.

“Uh huh.” Gojo hummed, clearly unconvinced and not afraid to show it. You pouted, noted the way his eyebrows raised in interest at the expression and immediately tried to wipe it off your face.

“Listen— because this is important.” Gojo’s voice was no longer teasing, “So far, this has gone all according to plan, maybe even a bit better. So don’t be such a baby over what I said back then. If I thought you were annoying, like annoying annoying, I wouldn’t be talking to you outside of ‘dates’ period.”

You flushed, keeping your eyes focused unto your cup as Gojo spoke so candidly. All the texts from the night before were coming back to you and you were wishing suddenly you had let yourself take that extra second to doubt your words. With him here now, trying to— what? Comfort you? Dismiss you? Either way, faced with the situation— had it just been your insecurity over the Six Eyes sinking through again? God, this was embarrassing— did you really let yourself get salty because he hadn’t texted you back?! What were you? Middle schoolers? What was going on with you?

“…okay. Yeah. Uh, I was— ugh, I don’t know what I was.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me or anyone. I never do.” Gojo said with a grin, holding his straw between his teeth. You didn’t have the time to cut in that you hadn’t actually been trying to apologize before he continued on, “And to answer your questions— classes were good! I did take the kids on a mission and they asked about how we met, which I relayed in loving detail.

You rolled your eyes, uncurling from your cocoon of blankets somewhat, “Did you leave out the part where I slapped you?”

Gojo’s smile widened, “You mean the best part? Never.”

You couldn’t suppress your laughter, leaning back against your bedroom wall with a faint thump and feeling a strange feeling of relief removing the stress from the day before. Gojo leaned back against your closet door, crossing his ankles and fishing his phone out of his front hoodie pocket.

“I scheduled a few appointments for you before dinner tonight.”

“Appointments?” You mumbled, sipping your drink, “Like what?”

“Usual girlie shit. Figure it might help you feel a bit less daunted if you look sexy as fuck.”

You nearly sputtered on your startled laugh, “Am I gonna have to wear a kimono?”

“You know it.” Gojo said, the tab of his thumb followed by the chime of your own phone. You fished it out from under your pillow and saw he had sent you a calendar item for the afternoon including hair and makeup as well as a fitting at an outfitters who, judging by their website information, specialized in wedding kimonos as well as elegant, “everyday” ones.

The sight of a wedding kimono on your phone screen made your mouth go dry and the ring on your finger suddenly felt as tight as a vice.

“Can I—“ you paused, words dying in your throat. Gojo however, looked up at you expectantly.

“Go on.” He said, more an order than a request.

“… is this as weird for you as it is for me?”

Gojo gave a faint shrug and a fainter smile, “In what way?”

“It feels— like, I keep panicking. Like I am actually going to marry you at the end of this and I— have no idea how that would work. How the hell we would work?! And it keeps throwing me off.”

Gojo laughed and you swore there was a nervous edge to the sound. He shifted to hold his coffee in both hands, leaning it against his thigh in a mirror of your own posture.

“I get it. Sometimes it hits a bit too real, yeah? Well, rest assured, we are definitely not getting married."

You nodded, still waiting to feel assured.

“I mean— I don’t even know your favorite color!” Gojo said, intending no doubt by his tone for the statement to be ridiculous and humorous. As if that were the only issue your theoretical marriage would have. Nevertheless you let the next word drop from your lips easily.

“Purple.”

You both fell silent, his eyes on you, yours again on your lap.

“My favorite color is purple. Like wisteria purple. Just in case someone— ya know. Asks.”

You swore even without looking at him you could hear his smile. The soft one, the one that came unto his face when he thought no one was looking.

“Noted.” He said quietly, the sound ruined by the obnoxiously loud rattle of his straw around his cup as he slurped down the last bits of syrup and coffee. Now you had multiple reasons to wish the floor would reach up and swallow you whole.

Never in your entire life had you worn something so expensive. When the women at the shop had even shown you the kimono on the stand you felt your entire face fall, paling with unbridled horror at how you were to manage wearing such a thing without tripping or getting food on it or just sitting in general. Nevermind the fact you were going to be stuck in the seiza position for god knew how long.

How did people wear such things so casually? The attendants had mistaken your expression for one of displeasure, immediately flocking to you with apologies and attempts to rectify the situation. It was hard to be anything but candid— you had never seen such a beautiful kimono before in your life.

The top was jet black, cherry blossoms adorning the left shoulder and down the length of one black sleeve. Near the base, the color was split, a burst of cherry blossoms dividing where the kimono faded into a deep violet color. The obi was a pale yellow, topped with tasseled ornaments in the same dark purple.

In the past, purple had been reserved only for the most noble— or for the gods. You could think of nothing more fitting for the future bride of Gojo Satoru. The kimono was amazing and splendid and you loved it truly... but it was nearer to a costume than something you would have picked for yourself. That it incorporated your declared favorite color was no doubt simply a coincidence. This design had been in mind for longer than you had held your new position, the Gojo clan emblem stamped unto the back of the high stiff collar.

It would therefore make for a perfect disguise as you played your role as the demure, pleasant bride.

They styled your hair up, a simple twist that was adorned with a cherry blossom comb and matching pins to your kimono. The women remarked casually on the two white strands of hair that framed your face, asking you if you’d like them dyed.

You politely declined.

They scrubbed under your nails, massaged your hands and feet with oils and applied the faintest clear coat, even if it would go unseen inside your tabi socks. Walking on zori was much easier than walking in heels, a fact for which you were grateful.

By the time you were dressed, made up and ready, it was nearing evening. At the end, the women drew you into a room to admire yourself among several standing mirrors, the lighting low and warm to better soften one’s features.

You did not recognize the woman who looked back at you. She had your lips, your smile, the stubborn set of your jaw and your eyes— but in the place of the wild, young girl who had once struck a god, you saw an elegant lady… the kind any member of the jujutsu elite would be proud to marry.

In this guise, it was easy enough to disappear. A lift of the chin, lengthening of the neck and spine to stand up tall— straight. Proud. In all the world, there was no match for the Six Eyes.

No one.

Except you.

That was the part you would play… and despite everything that had happened, you felt a sense a gratitude. Gojo was right. If you were to walk into the viper’s nest, at least you would look sexy as fuck.

One attendant walked with you out of the store, the dim lights of the street already shining and the horizon beyond the far buildings dip dyed with pinks and reds from the dying sunlight. The car that waited was the same that had picked you up for your first “date”. Sleek, European, Expensive. The driver waited, hat in his arm as you came to the door and with eyes that lingered a bit longer upon you this time, he held it open.

You thanked the attendant, words soft and formal. The clothes, the hair— it all made it easier to vanish. To tuck yourself away and be what you needed to be that evening.

You slid into the seat, not even bothering to look towards the man who sat at your side.

“Wow.”

Came his unsolicited assessment and a tiny, barely perceptible smile flickered on your painted lips.

“— wow.”

“As you said.”

A tiny glance his direction showed Gojo had seen fit for once to not wear his school uniform to a family event. His own kimono was black, his hakama a dark muted grey that nearly blended in seamlessly with the other dark color. His hoari however, was another matter. Turning to take it in fully, you noted it was the same deep violet shade as your own kimono, the clan crest of the Gojo family on the left side of the open jacket.

He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses or blindfold, blue eyes nearly seeming to glow in the dim light of the car now that the door was shut and the driver had taken his place at the wheel.

“I think they might just actually love you. Well, in another universe maybe.” Gojo said, his eyes taking several trips, both quick and lingering over your form. You kept your eyes out the window, trying to quell the faint stuttering of your heart in your chest. You had not been to this house since you were a girl and you had left it in disgrace.

The echoes of that night having followed you for years. Now was your chance. Make nice, play pretend, be a good bride-to-be… and all those doors that were once closed to you may open again.

Is that what we want?

A young voice, a child’s voice you’d nearly forgotten asked from the depths of your memory.

As the car pulled into the Gojo family compound you felt your chest constrict, passing beneath the open gates and coming to a halt at the main door. Servants waited to guide you inside, the driver exiting the door to get yours.

This was it. No going back. You took in a trembling breath and rose yourself up, putting on your mask.

The soft warm touch of a finger against your cheek drew your attention towards Gojo. You turned, as if called, and looked at him… surprised to find a frown had settled over his lips and furrowed his brow.

It was a short lived thing, notching up into something naughty in a second as he hooked his finger through the neatly combed white lock of your hair and pulled it free. The pale strands fell across your cheek, framing your face.

With one movement, the illusion was shattered. Your eyes sharpened, your mouth twisting into a boarish snarl of acute annoyance as you realized there was no fucking way you were going to be able to fix it without the help of the women who had put your hair up in this fancy ass updo.

“You shithe—“

The door open, your words cutting off as you turned to stare up at the driver and the waiting servants with wide owlish eyes.

So much for first impressions.

It was weird. This was weird. Everywhere you turned servants and the like were bowing— not to you, but to Gojo.

“Young master” they called him. Or Gojo-sama, a title that should have been held in reserve for his uncle. The reverence in which he was treated contrasted sharply with the utter dismissive rudeness he showed in turn. Gojo did not bow, not even the slightest. He gave them all the same acknowledgement one might give a coatrack or a vase.

God, how had you only managed to slap him once in your entire life? You felt your palm practically burning with the urge to slap him again.

It would have been polite for him to lead you into the main dining room on his arm, but instead, he swaggered ahead, slipping in with the barest greeting to all present— his uncle and father included.

You were forced to walk in alone. Trying to find the serenity and strength you had when you saw yourself in the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your chin just slightly and slipped into the room, your tabi socks a bare whisper— made more so as you focused your infinity down around your feet. A barrier between you and the tatami mats that no one except Gojo would ever see.

Whispers broke out, quiet, polite. Hidden behind hands when it came to the women present and less so when it came to the men. Gojo went to take his place near the head of the table, sitting down gracelessly and crossing his legs.

The place next to him was empty. A place kept so for you.

The idea alone was enough to send your sixteen-year-old self rolling. Screaming inside your breast with unbridled rage. DON’T YOU PUT ME NEXT TO THAT SIX EYED BASTARD. You tried your best to mask the laugh that wanted to break from your throat, high and nervous.

“This is her.” Gojo said, the barest of introductions.

Ah Gojo. Eloquent as always.

Before his uncle could even acknowledge you, you bowed at the waist— respectful. Submissive.

“It is the highest of honors to be received today.” You said, words you had been taught long ago coming back.

“You may sit.” Came the older man’s reply, hair as white as Gojo’s own, but the face older. More severe. His eyes were not the bright crystalline blue, but simply a dark black. Swallowing down revulsion at your own words, you took your seat, legs folded beneath you.

Gojo looked bored already.

“Leave us.” Came Gojo-sama’s next command. Without a word, the rest of the group departed, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were to be left alone with only Gojo, this man and the other white-haired man you assumed was his father by the fact he had not taken his eyes from you since you had walked into the room. Shrewd. Scrutinizing. And unimpressed.

The thin paper door slid shut and silence set in. Behind you, you heard the familiar sounds of the zen garden and its koi pond, still in place from all those years ago.

“I do not have to tell you how improper this is, do I Satoru?” Gojo-sama began, his voice tight, “Marriage is an important decision. Too important to make lightly and on your own whim.”

“Funnily enough, it was actually pretty easy.” Gojo replied, reaching over the table with a yawn and grabbing a sake bottle. He poured you both drinks. You did not touch it and nearly felt your eyes bulge from your head as he drank down his own with a grimace and quickly poured again.

You had never seen Gojo drink. Ever.

He shuddered, making his disgust at the taste known. Gojo-sama, unperturbed, turned to fix you with his dark stare.

“And you have agreed to marry him?”

“Yes.”

"How did this come about?"

Better to keep your words short, to the point. You had your stories all prepared.

"We reconnected through Jujutsu Tech. Things just fell into place... and given that I once was one of those chosen to potentially be his betrothed, we thought the match would be well received."

A smile even managed to grace your lips as you spoke, nearly fondly. As if recalling some precious memory of your time together with Gojo that had led to your current situation.

“That is out of the question.” Gojo’s father said flatly, “Your candidacy was deemed improper when you were sixteen. I recall you being in agreement then, Satoru. Her parents’ as well.”

You swallowed thickly. His father had been there the day of your little meet and greet. He knew better than anyone what had transpired.

“Do your parents know about this?”

The question was directed at you, but you did not need to answer.

“Not yet.” Gojo said, taking another drink, "Figure we'll spill the good news soon."

“So you both just decided to take this upon yourselves to become engaged without consulting anyone?” Gojo-sama said, the phrasing seeming like a question, but the tone making it clear it was not, "You are often rash and foolish, Satoru, but this feels— rather convenient. Given our conversations of late."

Gojo shrugged, "Those conversations made me ask her. Why ruin a good thing, yeah?"

His father's next words snapped out, crude and thoughtless, “Is she pregnant?”

The side of your jaw began to ache from how hard you were clenching your teeth. The question was not even aimed at you, that fact alone somehow making you feel even smaller. As if that were the only reason Gojo would consider you a possible candidate.

“What if she is?” Gojo countered and you wished for once he’d just answer a question with the truth rather than with another question.

At his statement, his father’s eyes darkened even further, his words nearly a snarl, “You will not disgrace this house and this family by endangering it any further with the higher-ups. Unauthorized breeding of the Six Eyes with any jujutsu sorcerer is explicitly forbidden, Satoru.”

“Breeding— what am I? A dog?” Gojo said, laughing in his father’s face, “For all I know I already got a handful of little bastards running around.”

That made you wince for an entirely different reason, mortification threatening to reveal itself as you flushed down your bared neck. If Gojo noticed, he made no show of it. He simply filled his cup again, moving to fill yours until he noted it was still full of the clear shimmering liquid.

You turned your face from him, regretting it keenly in your chest that squeezed with unburdened emotion.

Whatever you do, do not cry.

Gojo-sama remained silent, allowing the exchange to unfold between father and son, but every so often he would nod in agreement to his brother’s words.

“For your sake, and ours, I hope not.”

His father's eyes shot over to you, mistaking your stunned silence for one of disappointment, “He no doubt did not tell you these things. If you were hoping for a free ticket, I am afraid you will find there is none to be had. Opening your legs for my son will get you nothing— I suggest you call this marriage off and seek a match more befitting your—" he paused, giving you a once over, "—station.”

In another world, in another place, perhaps the regal, lovely looking woman in her kimono who stared back at you from her mirrored universe managed to hold her tongue. To keep her hair tied back. Her illusion in place. She was petted and praised at the expense of her pride, of her very self. Of the promises she made to a sullen girl in her stiff, cheap kimono, forced to play pretend at being a suitable mate with a boy who wished, as she did, to be anywhere else.

But you were not that woman.

“I’ll spread my legs for whoever I damn well please.” The words shot out, like knives. Like bullets, “And I’ll have as many children as I please and if the higher-ups have an issue with it they can take it up with my husband. Or better yet, me."

You bared your teeth in a smile that held no mirth, “I would be more than happy to show them what even a lowly Gojo half-breed can do.”

The silence was so loud it rang in your ears and pulsed like a second heart behind your eyes and teeth. A laugh broke it, startled, shocked. You met Gojo’s eyes and for the first time since you had begun this charade, you saw behind them something you had never thought to see.

Pure, open adoration. Delight even. A blush had even creeped over the high points of his cheeks, whether from the alcohol or joy you could not tell. One laugh turned into peels, one hand clutching his side and the other curled into a fist which he beat once on the table.

“Aha, shit— ah… well. Thanks for dinner, dad. It’s been a real treat.” He stood, offering you his hand which you took, feeling too shell-shocked to do anything else.

“Satoru—“ Gojo-sama’s voice spoke over whatever Gojo’s father was prepared to say, “We will discuss this further tomorrow morning. You are to remain on the compound until we do.”

“If I feel like it.” Gojo said with a shrug and guided you out one sliding door into another hall. You didn’t even risk a glance back, not wanting to see the expressions watching your exit.

Being half dragged in tabi was actually a lot easier than you’d think, especially on smooth wooden floors— but it also meant you were at risk of falling onto your face at any given second.

Gojo moved easily through the halls, navigating the twists and turns as only one who grew up within the house could do.

“Where—“

He forced open a sliding door so hard it nearly pulled off its slot, tugging you in and crowding you against the nearest solid wall.

“I wanna do something stupid.” Gojo said, voice lower but somehow still excited. Ecstatic.

“I mean—given my own track record tonight I think that is only fair.” You disguised the tremor in your voice, staring up at the impossible blue of his eyes, no longer sleepy or bored in their open, intense stare, “How stupid?”

“All the way stupid.”

It was a short trip for your eyes to fall from his down to his lips, parted, panting with adrenaline. He was high off of it. The conflict, the drama. The rebellion. And in his eyes was something else, something you couldn’t quite place and yet made you feel as if you were stripped bare. Raw. The white strand of your hair loose and wild and sticking to the sweat on your face. A flaw, a single imperfection that had marred the image of what they wanted you to be.

“Okay.” You said, feeling like your lungs would burst apart into a thousand butterflies.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” Gojo said, his smile dark— sinister. Dangerous, “Follow me.”

And then he was gone. His heat, his scent— spicy and masculine and going straight to your head only moments ago. Your lips parted, ached with the loss of what they had begun to picture in your mind. What was going on with you? Did you really just agree to— no. You were not even going to give that thought the legitimacy of being thought twice.

You moved to follow Gojo into the dark only to swear when your knee hit on a box.

“Is this a storage closet?”

“Not just any storage closet.” Gojo replied, coming back from the darkness with two slender objects in either hand. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust and to register that what he had were in fact two heavy aluminum baseball bats.

He cackled, “Let's play ball.”

You knew the main family compound was home to many shrines and statues, honoring the various members who had come before. But that there was a shrine specifically to the Six Eyes and its holders was not something you were privy to. Said  shrine was tucked away off the beaten path, down along a foot trail into a small cluster of trees far from the sight of the main house. It was ostentatious and ugly— a coiled dragon with bright aquamarine eyes, holding unto a bronze plated slab that bore the names of all who held the Six Eyes, ending with one you recognized. GOJO SATORU.

He tossed you a bat which you caught in one hand and shot you a wide, feral grin, eyes bright and glazed. Was he drunk? He’d only had three cupfuls of sake, but he sure was acting drunk.

“I fucking hate this thing.” Gojo said, prodding the delicate tapered end of the dragon’s nose with the end of his own bat, “Plastering my name around like they share my abilities— we share blood. That’s where it ends.”

Gojo’s words came as a low growl, “It’s my statue, isn’t it? I'm the only Six Eyes, yeah? So I get to say what happens to it.”

And then he ceremoniously took the bat up with both hands and swung— knocking off chips of stone and denting the end of the bat.

He groaned, the sound edging towards frustration. With his abilities that swing should have been enough to implode the damn thing, but given the way he was rubbing at his eyes and swaying slightly on his feet you were beginning to understand why he never drank.

“Shoulda taken it clean off— you’re up to plate, shortstop.”

Gojo was right. This was stupid. All the way stupid.

You took a few steps, rolled your shoulders, planted your feet as best you could in the restriction of the kimono and swung— taking off the nose completely.

“Oh you fucking cheated— I saw that cursed energy you fed into that swing.”

“Did not!” 

“Did so!”

You barely had time to get out of the way before he came at the statue again from the side, swinging with a burst of cursed energy that should have registered to any user within a half mile radius. Your vision lit up, a solar flare of sensation, his energy expended so close it was like watching fireworks across the sky.

The bat was nearly bent in half, the dragon’s head flying off into pieces of unrecognizable gravel across the path.

And like that, something inside you both switched, the night air filled with the sounds of your mixed laughter and the thuds and cracks of stone against metal. You knew why you were enjoying it, every strike a blow to those who questioned your worth, who deemed you lesser for lacking this nearly extinct ability. For dismissing your Limitless as incomplete— a half measure. Useless in the face of the perfection of the Six Eyes. That you were wrecking this memorial to those whose footsteps you could never tread upon— right alongside that man, the one who was most honored, whose accomplishments forever eclipsed not just your own but your very senses? That was unexpected to say the least.

By the end, the statute was unrecognizable, the bats even more so, and something in your chest felt as spilt open as the stone. Broken, jagged and ugly, but set free.

Gojo sat heavily down unto the grass, wet with evening dew, his head tilted back towards the sky his eyes were carved from, his breaths coming fast and short with exertion.

“C’mere.” He said and you gave him a wry look before turning this way and that— as if looking for who he thought he was speaking to.

“Yeah, you. C’mere.”

When you were within reach his hand snaked out, coiling around your wrist and dragging you down onto the dirt. You jerked back, remembering what you wore— the beautiful kimono and its delicate light purple flowers. There was no telling what the damp and the dirt and the grass would do to it.

“It’ll get ruined.”

“Then take it off.”

His thumbnail dug into the soft, delicate skin of your inner wrist. Unrelenting. Unused to denial.

“I can’t by myself.” The words whispered off your tongue. A reprimand. A reminder. Gojo let the pad of his thumb swipe over the reddened spot forming on your skin, reaching up under the long sleeve of the kimono.

You felt goosebumps spread out over your arms. There was a question to be asked here, and one to be answered, but how to begin? Gojo, as always, did not disappoint, your name curling on his tongue— like he was tasting it. Owning it. And then at last he asked, “Do you wanna fuck?”

How anyone could manage to make such a vulgar statement so appealing was beyond you. But even so, the words sent a coil of heat aching through your center, pooling between your thighs until you knew— and you were pretty sure he knew— that with four simple words, he’d finally managed to get you wet.

The breath you sucked in was sharp and cold and sobering.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah, I know—but I think I could still get it up.”

“You promise not to remember in the morning?” You asked dryly, your avoidance not going unnoticed. Gojo’s touch drew away, fingertips sliding free from your arm as he released you and with a hefted sigh let himself fall back against the grass.

“One bad idea too many.” He hummed, closing his eyes, “Shame. I’ve been wanting to find out how good that pussy tastes since I had to skip dinner.”

With a grunt you struck him in the side, “Don’t joke about that kind of shit, I thought you were serious.”

He only laughed, the sound wrung out and raw, as if Gojo Satoru had finally laughed too long and too loud.

“This is the best family dinner I’ve ever been to.” He said, giving a small nod, “Thanks.”

How this man could so casually move from asking you if you wanted to have sex with him to thanking you for helping him beat the shit out of a statute with baseball bats was— no. It wasn’t beyond you. This sounded exactly like the kind of shit he would be in to.

“You’re welcome.”

“And thanks for not being a crybaby.”

“… you’re welcome.”

“And for not being totally spineless.”

“… you’re on thin fucking ice, Satoru.”

At the sound of his name his eyes opened, peering up at you with that look again. As if he were seeing you for the first time— no. Discovering you. Like that look that flickered across someone’s face when they found their lost car keys or a misplaced phone.

Triumph.

That was the word.

You didn’t understand it meant. You didn’t understand what any of this meant— but Gojo was drunk and you were tired and looking out over the small hill down to the lights of the main house below you knew most of all that this wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

In the end, Gojo managed to unlock his phone long enough to send for a cab, not daring to risk asking the family driver to take him anywhere without word getting immediately back to the family elders.

“Let them find out tomorrow morning— fuckers…” he had half mumbled, head lulling against the window. Barely a few cups of sake in him and he was a mess, transforming into the worst kind of lush imaginable as he went boneless and floppy— like a six foot three slinky. Getting him out of the cab was near impossible. Getting him through the apartment front lobby without someone calling security, a miracle. By the time you poured him unto the leather sofa and turned to shut the front door you were beginning to think you had bigger things to worry about than how the hell you were supposed to get out of this kimono.

First things first. You fiddled with the obi, working loose the the knots and cords that kept the fabric in place and letting out a deeply relieved sigh as the pressure relented. Your tummy growled as if on cue, reminding you that despite having been promised a family dinner, neither of you had participated in it.

Instead you had taken bats to a thousand year old family relic in the backyard and snuck out like teenagers into the night. You should have been mortified, terrified even of the eventual reprisal when the morning sun rose on the destruction the two of you had left on the compound, but oddly you could not find a single fuck to give. Not after the insult paid to you.

Is she pregnant?

You snorted, looking over with unveiled disgust at the young man who would have supposedly have done the impregnating. There was nothing graceful in the way he flopped half over the sofa, arm tucked over his eyes, long legs sprawled out over the armrest and his haori wrinkled. He was still awake, the groaning gave that away.

“My head is throbbing.” Gojo moaned, “Fucking— hot.”

And with that he pulled himself up, gripping unto the back of the sofa and needing to take a moment to right himself before he began to pull and pry off the layers of his own kimono. He didn’t even notice you now— ya know. The woman who he had propositioned in what was essentially his parent’s backyard not even an hour ago.

There was a sheen to his skin, layers falling away to expose his bare torso. There was literally no reason on heaven or earth for this man to be so beautiful. It truly wasn’t fair that someone was born with all that power, all that natural talent and looked that gorgeous— even sweaty and drunk.

“Looks like there is something you’re not good at. Lush.” You said with a laugh, sinking down unto the free spot at the far end of the sofa as you worked open your kimono and managed to get down to the thin layer beneath. You stretched your knees, bending and kicking out to try and relieve some of the cramping that lingered.

“Lies.” He mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It’s good to know your limits. Keeps you humble. I can’t imagine it is easy walking around with a head as big as yours.”

“The head is fine—“ he drew his palm down over his face so he could peer up backwards at you, “It’s this huge dick that's the problem.”

“Disgusting.” And with a decisive movement, you flicked his forehead and Gojo Satoru, Six Eyes, the strongest sorcerer in one hundred years, pouted up at you.

“I want you to stop being mean to me— and be nice.”

You scoffed, “That’s my line."

It took a moment to process what was happening, Gojo hunching up his shoulders near his ears and then wriggling across the leather sofa. It took him a second, his bare back sticking to the material until you swore you felt him pop off his infinity to smooth the transition.

And then his head was on your lap, cheek turning into the soft material of your under robe as he curled unto the sofa.

“Much better.” He mumbled, “Stay right there. Be quiet.”

“Uh— excuse me?”

His hand reached out blindly— or what you supposed would be blindly to anyone else. His fingers closed over your wrist and drew you forward, resting your hand in his hair. It was obvious what he wanted, even as he refused to speak the request aloud.

Gently, tentatively, you stretched out your fingertips through the strands of soft white hair, nails scraping dully over his scalp. Gojo moaned, the sound enough to make your already fragile resistance against his charms crack further.

“Six Eyes will… fix me up soon.” He mumbled, squinting his eyes tightly together. The room was almost completely dark and yet he was acting as if he were laying beneath direct sunlight. You felt, just for a moment, a tiny pinprick of sympathy. You’d overloaded your senses enough times trying to use your telemetry, and yeah— alcohol didn’t help. It made you dizzy, made you more open and sensitive, the world tilting and burning with sensations.

You set your hand on his cheek and reached your thumb out to rub circles into his temple.

“Now if you really wanna help, one good hand job would do—“

You curled your fingers into his hair, not pulling, just gripping tightly. A silent threat.

“—but this is nice too.”

“You shouldn’t tease me about that kind of shit. What would you do if I said yes?” You chided him with a chuckle, expecting— well. Not really sure what you were expecting him to say.

“I’d say, ‘your futon or mine’.”

“There you go again.”

Gojo gave an exasperated sigh and his words snapped out, “There you go again. Your self-worth really that shit you think I wouldn’t slip you the pipe if you asked me to?”

It was good to know even tipsy he was still a fucking asshole. He was lucky you didn’t pull out a clump of his hair.

“If I wanted a meaningless fuck, I’d go find one somewhere else. I don’t shit where I eat, Gojo.” You said, voice a dulled edge, quickly sharpening. You didn’t know when exactly it was that you had started to become so sharp, words ready to be drawn out like a sword behind your tongue.

Gojo, to his credit, had no reply ready. And so you went back to rubbing your thumb into the side of his head, occasionally running the pad over his closed eyelid and pressing gently. His eyelashes were soft under your skin. His breathing deepened, the slow rise and fall of his body slowing even further and the weight of him becoming heavier. After several minutes you noted that he had truly fallen asleep.

Did the Six Eyes even need to sleep? From what you understood, his brain was constantly healing itself, keeping his mind fresh and ready for anything. Sleep was that for everyone else. A means to release, to let your body and mind recharge and revitalize for the next day. It seemed convenient, but at the same time you found you did not envy it. Dreams were an escape, a place to let your thoughts unwind and work out the things that weighed on you.

Did he ever miss dreaming? You ran your thumb over the curve of his cheekbone, gentle, tender. His skin was warm. You had noted that subtle change, the difference between when you were touching him and touching the infinity between you. Infinity was cold, there but not there. When you touched his skin, unhindered by his barriers, Gojo was warm.

You thought about the slap that started everything. The feeling of his skin, hot and red beneath your palm. He’d let you do it, like he was letting you do this now. Leaving himself open and vulnerable.

It could all be a trick. You could be lying in wait, ready for your chance to pluck an eye from his head. If the power was in the eyes, could you not simply steal one pretty orb from his socket? Transplant it in your own? That would be the real engagement present you’d crave— wouldnt it? There can never exist two Six Eyes. The elders said, and you recalled Gojo’s father’s words about the children of a Six Eyes… if there could only be one, why worry about any potential heirs?

Unless, like everything the higher-ups spit out, it was pure bullshit.

Tentatively, you let your thumb nail press into his cheek, harder— harder. He did not stir. When you relented, there was a red half moon indented on his skin. This meant one of two things— either Gojo saw you as a non-threat… or he trusted you, inexplicably.

You didn’t know how to feel about either.

The morning was bright, the window of your temporary bedroom facing eastward and letting the rays shine against the soft white walls. You snuggled into your covers, not wanting to wake and not really needing to. Besides, after last night you felt entitled to a lay in.

Thoughts slippery and hazy around the edges, you let your dreams filter back in as sleep settled over your lids.

But this wasn’t the couch. And last thing you remembered was sitting on the couch, Gojo’s head pillowed on your lap. Without a sound, trying to mask your movements as much as possible to a certain “someone” with heightened senses, you drew back your covers. You were still dressed in the under robe of your kimono, but someone had taken the tabi socks off your feet and slipped the comb and clips free from your hair, letting it fall loose around your shoulders.

Someone.

You tried to trick your thoughts, refusing to name the only obvious person who could have done such a thing. Trying not to remember a dream, or a memory of a gentle hand, tucking the white strand of your hair away from your face and behind your ear as you slept.

Just someone.

Ravenous was a good word for the feeling in your stomach, curling like a growling monster, demanding to be sated. There was a box of donuts on the counter, two coffees and a slouched over Gojo, his head rested flat on the countertop.

You snorted and he rolled his head up and propped it instead against his fist. He was wearing his blindfold and you, for the briefest moment, found yourself missing the sky reflected back in his eyes. Taking a cake donut, layered with chocolate icing, you picked up the coffee nearest to you and wolfed down a few bites. If you were going to be staying here for a year, it would probably be a good idea if one of you learned how to cook.

For now though, there was always eggs. Finding a pan and removing the carton from the fridge, you fired up the stovetop and began breaking them into a bowl for scrambling.

“How’s your head?” You said, voice a teasing coo.

Gojo gave a gruff response.

“Thought your reversal would make hangovers pretty impossible.”

“It isn’t a hangover.” Gojo replied tersely, “And that isn’t how it works.”

You hummed, pouring the scrambled mixture of eggs into the heated pan and seasoning it with salt and pepper, waiting for him to continue.

“Alcohol stunts the Six Eyes. Don’t ask me why, I don’t have a clue. So suddenly all that sleep I’m not getting? Hits me like a bounced check.”

He fished another donut out from the box, “Or something like that. No one really knows seeing as it has been a good hundred years since there was anyone around to ask.”

You forked the eggs around the pan, fluffing them, listening and then without a thought asking aloud, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“S’fine.” Gojo mumbled and then after a moment, “Thanks. Sugar will fix me up in about as long as it takes for my body to start absorbing it.”

“So stimulants are good and downers are bad.” You said, nodding. It made sense in a weird way. You found a few plates and spooned scrambled egg onto both, pushing one towards Gojo who gave you a frown.

“I don't need you to fuss over me.”

“Protein.” You chided, waving your fork, “Also good brain food. So eat it. How you manage to stay so fit when most of your calorie intake is sugar is beyond me— and I’m not a good cook. So take this chance while you can.”

Gojo’s head tilted, a smile forming on his lips, “You think I’m fit, huh?”

“If you proposition me again before I’ve even got a full cup of coffee in me, I can not be held liable for your future demise.”

To his credit, he shut up and ate the damn eggs.

It took barely even fifteen minutes for whatever sluggishness Gojo had felt to shake off, less than five for him to be up and dressed in his Jujutsu Tech uniform.

You had barely even got around to feeling awake, let alone ready for the day as Gojo stood expectantly near the door.

“You going out like that?”

“— am I going out?” You retorted, shooting him a glare you hoped would intimidate him into giving up whatever plans he had for the day. No such luck.

“Got a mission, potential second grade curse has been living it up near lake Saiko and eating tourists. The mess is getting pretty hard to cover up and the last sorcerer they sent to deal with it got himself super killed.”

Gojo gave a little shrug, grinning, “Besides, I need the money right? Gotta save for the honeymoon.”

“Or your funeral.” You deadpanned, forcing your legs to unfold from the sofa and rising up with utter misery. You were not a morning person.

“There is a surprise too. Call it a kind of mission-date hybrid.”

“We still doing that?”

“You shadowing my missions?” Gojo asked, and you imagined his eyebrow would be raised if you could see it.

“Dates. The family already got their show, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, but we have to keep it up! Or else they’ll think you were just some cum dump that I got to play dress up.”

Is she pregnant?

The nearest object in your reach was only a pillow, but the speed in which you chucked it at his head along with a burst of cursed energy, would have made it probably feel more comparable to being hit in the face with a brick. It if had hit. Which it didn’t, striking Gojo’s infinity and then dropping to the floor.

“You are so fucking nasty.” You hissed, rolling your eyes at the way he mockingly pressed his hand over his chest— playing at being hurt. Your face felt hot, but the anger was dissipating, turning into something that was more akin to embarrassment— his vulgarity sometimes didn’t offended so much as it… intrigued you? Was that what you’d call this feeling where your stomach would heat and your core would seize with a pang that was not all together unpleasant? It was gross, he was gross, and yet at the same time—

“Babe, you have no idea.”

There was no teasing in his voice, but there was something. Taunting. Tempting. You turned away from him without another word and slammed your bedroom door behind you for good measure. His laughter followed you, inescapable.

Chapter Text

A part of him still wished she had just let him take her, right then and there on the lawn of the Gojo estate. Right under his uncle’s bedroom window if he could have convinced her. He could almost see it— grass in her loose hair, kimono peeled open like an over ripe fruit, dripping juices and nectar on his tongue, on his cock… ruined— ruined.

Disgusting. Gross. Nasty.

And all the adjectives in between. She had no fucking idea how right she was in labeling him these things. Why? Because he was minding his manners, keeping his impulses in check. If she saw the dirty truth, she would be more than disgusted. She’d fucking bolt.

And he needed— no. Fuck that. Gojo Satoru didn’t need anyone. He wanted her for his pretend betrothed, fiancee, wife— whatever. Because she was smart and stronger than she knew with a bad habit for rejecting authority— that and she had perfect tits (there, he admitted it) and an ass that made him have to practically sit on his hands to keep from wanting to smack it when she mouthed off.

He could still remember how it felt back then when all he had was a single memory of a single visit to play in his mind— wanting to ruin her. Wreck her. Spit in her mouth and make her cum so many times she forgot whether she was supposed to be moaning his name or praying to god.

And he’d wanted it since that night she had the nerve to slap him across the face. Since the night he left her, sitting in her cheap kimono with her poor pathetic half-breed parents and her delicious outrage to go and crawl into his bed, one hand pressing into the bruise on his jaw and the other wrapped around his dick.

If only she knew the impression she had left on him.

Disgusting. Gross. Nasty.

All of those things, baby. All of them and more.

Back then he thought if he could just fuck her out of his system then maybe he could get rid of these deluded little thoughts he had been having. How she might be— hell— the one. Not in some romantic, dipshit way, but in a tangible real way. His nearest equal. Another to set next to the likes of Megumi and Yuji— sorcerers who could walk along side him into his new bright future.

Times like this made him miss Geto so bad it made it hard to breathe. Made him hate the fucker down to his marrow too, but oh— that ache he still had for him. Funny how often those two feelings got so mixed up in his head.

Hate to see them leave, love to watch them go. Which was just a round about way of saying he pushed people away only to despise them for leaving. Sour grapes and all.

He’d used that line on her too, once, a lifetime ago. Back when he was even more fucked up than he was now, if that was saying anything. Sure, he’d grown up. Maybe even managed to get over some of his more selfish impulses. Gojo from barely ten years ago would have drug her into that storage room and had his hands up her kimono without stopping to even ask if it was what she wanted.

That Gojo would have found out very quickly the drawbacks of an unstoppable infinite force meeting an unmovable infinite object.

Even if she didn’t seem to notice herself.

He had. Oh, he had. The palm of her hand had once arced straight through his infinity and found its mark on his face, a cruel reminder that he could bleed— and gods don’t bleed. Her will, her anger in that moment had dwarfed his own, had forced it back. Made his infinity submit to her own in a game of chicken she didn’t even know she could play.

The psychological warfare they’d used to convince her that she was weak was a hell of a weapon. The best. Right after sex. Because everything was about sex unless it was about sex, then it was about power and Gojo had always wielded it with the reckless disregard of a kid who’d found his daddy’s gun.

Everyone was waiting when he was younger to finally make a mistake and blow his own damn head off. Wrong person, wrong place, wrong time.

He’d gotten better. Kept his escapades to normal people. Non-sorcerers. The kind that fawned over him and praised him and were stunned endlessly by the beauty of his eyes and the power that radiated from him in waves they couldn’t comprehend.

She had said it pretty well herself. If either of them needed a meaningless fuck, they could just go get one. Better not to shit where he ate, yeah? And she was sleeping in his hook up den, so that made bringing people home even more of a chore.

No one slept in his bed. His space. Don’t shit where you eat— that was a great line. He was totally stealing that.

But the idea of going off and finding some hook-up didn’t even begin to make his blood shift in the slightest… and yet the very sound of his name on her tongue had practically had him at half-mast only a few days prior.

Did he still have it that bad? She was cute. Sexy even at times. More fun than he remembered. She gave as good as she got, but there were plenty of other girls twice as hot and definitely more willing to lay back and think of Japan for him— so what was it?

He drew his thumb over his cheek, the ghost of her strike, the ghost of her thumb, rubbing small circles into his temple.

Is there anything I can do to help?

He didn’t want to fuck this up. That was the truth, buried deep down under mountains of strategic avoidance and blatant denial. She was a good girl, an excellent sorcerer, and she deserved better than the cards that had been dealt down to her from the higher-ups... and probably him too.

So when his uncle had broached the subject of his seriously considering a potential marriage candidate, the choice was obvious— even if he did make a show of talking to everyone but her first.

He had already decided, hadn’t he?

He’d decided twelve years ago, the moment he felt her reach passed the boundaries of infinity and touch the face of god.

Gojo ran his own hand over his eyes, groaning out his frustrations to no one, ripping his fingers through his wet hair and releasing the strands in a tangled mess of white. The lake seemed peaceful now, truly serene and cleansed of the evil that had lay dormant in it until he had come along and kicked the hornets nest, just for her.

If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule.

He really didn’t know what he felt or what he wanted, but he knew one thing— he didn’t want it to be over. Which meant he was going to have to do something he never did.

A first. Just for you.

Two Days Earlier.

Half of the purpose of leaving the immediate vicinity was to get out of dodge. Not that Gojo was afraid of either of those two old shits— it was just an inconvenience. A temporary storyline in the unraveling drama of the main fam.

Normally traveling for missions was 'whatever'. It could be enjoyable sometimes if only for the change in scenery. Exorcise a curse, surf Tinder, back in the next cab home before the sweat dried on the sheets. But now the plan was different, because now he had her.

As much as he ever had anyone.

The way her eyes opened, barely veiled delight coursing through her rapidly moving pupils as she looked at the photos of the place they would be staying sent a deep purr of satisfaction through his chest. She was so easy to please. The onsen was a five-star reviewed destination, situated in a nice little forest right outside Lake Saiko. Gojo had made the extra effort to buy the whole place out, even throwing cash at them to send some of the staff on a little vacation. Skeleton crew. A good choice in case the curse they were to be hunting decided to target the two delicious smelling sorcerers over the other tourist destinations.

“Impressed?” He cooed, nudging her knee with his own.

“Am I going to get this kind of pay when I do missions solo?” She asked, practical as always. Gojo sighed.

“If you do well enough.”

He hadn’t exactly made his disappointment at her reaction subtle, her eyes flicking over to him. She smiled, taking pity on him just as he’d hoped and swatted him with the brochure.

“I am excited, you know. It looks really nice. We’ll need a good soak after we exorcise the curse, yeah?”

It could go in that order. Or not. No sense in dampening her spirits.

“Together? How daring.”

“You know what I mean.” She said with huff and turned to cross her arms and sink back against the seat. If she were anyone else, he’d get her to look at him again… slide his hand up her thigh, over her knee and back down until she was squirming. Instead he busied his hands with his phone, swiping passed his open apps until he found Candy Crush.

“So what do we know about the curse?”

“Originally was pegged as a second-grade, but now it looks like we have a first-grade level to contend with. It has been dormant for a long while, judging by its energy levels reading so low to start, but something set it off.” Gojo shrugged, “Usually an anniversary of the event or some other kind of disaster can reawaken a dormant curse. Definitely of the vengeful variety rather than imaginary or disease.”

She nodded and Gojo noted she was looking over his shoulder, watching him rapidly clear level after level of the game. He might have picked up the pace, just a little— to give her a good show.

“Whose all died?”

“Does it matter?”

“Uh— yeah? Is it targeting foreign tourists? Japanese tourists? Men? Women? Finding out about the person whose spirit was corrupted could help us track it down.”

A practical question, not an emotional one. He had misunderstood.

“All of the deaths have been women in their late twenties to early thirties.”

Something crossed over her expression, wry and withering. He knew that look— he was about to get accused of something dastardly and nefarious and entirely true.

“So. Me.”

Gojo hummed.

“You’re using me as bait again, aren’t you?”

“Now hold on, this time I was going to ask first—“

Her hand came down over his phone, forcing him to lower it and raise his covered eyes towards her. An award winning grin was already plastered on his face, an instant charm attack on anyone else.

“Then ask.” She said, returning his smile in a way that had his infinity wanting to swirl to the surface and protect him from impending harm. Haha— I’m in danger!

“Would you be bait for my mission?“

“Please.” She added.

“Aw, you don’t have to beg me, sweetheart! I’ll let you be bait for free.”

There was that fire, the one that bloomed high on her cheeks and down her neck. Her temper was something to behold, truly. Like a human firecracker, practically begging him to strike a match and send it exploding.

“Ask me to be bait again— and this time, you say please.”

This was going to be a long mission.

“Would you be bait for my mission and have a bath with me, please?”

Got her. Now the inviting heat that rolled from her body had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with the positively filthy little images that were hamster wheeling through that brain of hers. He loved to watch the vessels in her skin bloom open, pulsing faster and fast— imperceptible to all but his eyes. The way her pupils dilated, wide and engulfing, the tell tale and true signs of attraction.

Her body was always half screaming to kill him or kiss him— a fact made even more amusing by her complete ignorance of it. She could hate his guts all she wanted, but a part of her wanted him to rearrange hers. He just hadn't quite determined how "big" that part was.

“Forget it.” She said with a huff, turning to look out the window, “I”ll be bait if it means this mission gets over faster.”

She crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together briefly. Did she think he didn’t notice? Couldn’t see the secret, tiny tells? She had to know more about the Six Eyes than any other person other than himself if they had once thought she would been born with it— but maybe not. Or maybe she just didn’t care if he saw.

He liked that idea best.

Whatever sourness had entered her mood was gone the moment the two of you checked in. The onsen was a traditional style building, gorgeous and welcoming— the exact opposite of the cold, museum like quality the main house boasted. Still there was something there— some barely imperceptible smudge on its otherwise well manicured face.

She didn’t even ask about the low staff numbers, too excited to get back to the room and get changed for the hot spring itself. It was infectious, she was infectious, putting the dumbest smile on his face as he lagged behind her.

He always shocked people with his patience. It was easy to be so when inevitably all would fall into place in your own favor as it always did. Gojo was ready for the moment she slid open the door to their room, noted the two futons laid out next to each other and turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

Come on. Come on. Lay into me. Was this a kink? Was he developing a kink?

But she didn’t. Instead, she waltzed into the room and set down her small bag and stretched up unto her toes until he heard the pops of her spine.

“A girl could get used to this— not me, but a girl.”

Oh you just keep telling yourself that sweetheart. Gojo followed her inside, but the way a cat did. Uninterested, aloof— she had been right. He wasn’t used to someone not orbiting him, waiting for his move and following the push and pull of his lead.

She was already gathering up her little basket of toiletries, taking time to admire the spectacular view of the lake below and the darkening twilight sky from the open screened walls. Mt. Fuji was in the distance, a towering, dormant force of nature that drew silent awed “wow” from her lips. Why look at a big rock when a real force of nature was just a few feet away? Gojo was beginning to think maybe hatred really was the best deterrent for terrible life decisions.

Though perhaps hatred was a bit strong of a word. Extreme dislike. That was more the vibe he got from her every-time he opened his mouth.

“I’m going down to the spring before something tries to kill us!” She announced cheerfully, excitement already quickening her breath. The hot water would soon have her even more so— skin wet and soft and—

What the fuck was he doing? Standing there staring at her like a moon eyed calf was what. She rolled her eyes, unaware of his slip up and chalking his silence up no doubt to his just being an uninterested asshole. He was just glad she didn’t see the look that went over his face as she walked by and he caught on the air the faint scent of his cologne. His shampoo. His laundry detergent. She smelled like him— which honestly made sense. Live together long enough with someone and that was bond to happen so why did his chest just stutter?

Too much to unpack— first there were actual things to unpack.

A quick rinse and brisk wash before the hot spring was enough to scrub the moment off his skin. Gojo was content to walk out into the outdoor baths with only a towel wrapped low around his waist, telling himself he wasn’t so much looking for her as he was being aware of her. She was easy enough to spot, the whole place was empty by design. For better curse exorcising only, of course. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, towel discarded off to the side as she sank all the way up to her chin in the murky, herbal infused water.

For an ordinary person, It would have been enough to obscure her body from their eyes.

But he was anything but ordinary.

Ah. That’s why you wanted to bathe alone.

And to his credit, he went back and slid into the water at the far side of the pool behind a row of decorative rocks that divided the two areas. Most likely one spot was designated male or female, but when it was only the two of you it hardly mattered.

“Gojo?” Her voice rose over the wall quietly, a slight quiver at the edge.

She was making it really really hard to be good. He slid down further into the water, waiting right at the edge, still as he could.

“I know that’s you, fucker, don’t try to scare me.”

What a mouth.

“… Gojo?”

He heard another half mumbled curse and the sound of her whipping the towel into the water with her. Then right before she came around he took in a breath and slipped beneath the water without even leaving a ripple.

Even under the hazy water he could see her, eyes alert, skin so warm it practically radiated heat— the towel soaking through and clinging to every curve of her. She was just too much— and he subtly shifted his cursed energy to teleport himself right over to the opposite side.

Breaching the water and taking in a breath, he lazed back against the edge of the pool as if he had been there since the start. And when she came back around the corner, looking perplexed and wary, he almost got a truly unhindered eyeful as she went to take off her towel without looking.

He whistled.

She screeched.

“Decided to join me, huh?”

The look of confusion on her face was worth the convoluted prank, the realization dawning in her eyes even more so. Her expression was teetering right onto that edge where her temper waited, a short push away. Wind her up and watch her go.

“There are easier ways of seeing me naked, ya know.” She said, trying to keep her voice stern and disinterested even as he could clearly see the pulse point in her neck beating rapidly. She didn’t take off her towel though, tucking the corner in and wearing it back into the pool.

“Not supposed to bring fabrics into the water.”

“Good thing we are the only ones here then.”

“For now.” He said, overtly and dramatically ominous. Granted, any surge of cursed energy she would notice, let alone him. So far there was definitely something— the barest trace of dread. The scent of rot, of old water. It was faint and clearly not yet entirely obvious to her. Gojo had sensed it before they even left the parking lot.

“Hush. I’m ignoring you.” She mumbled, closing her eyes and settling in on the small bench that ran the edge of the pool. Beads of sweat were prickling out near her hairline, dotting between her brows— she must have been sensitive to warmer temperatures, that explained how easily her whole body responded to heat— even the kind that came from her own blood pressure.

He let her have a few moments. The soft sound of chimes, of the breeze and the water lulling the tension form her limbs and her face. He crossed the bare distance between them, knew she knew he was there, and yet still she ignored him.

Gojo set his hands on either side of the ledge, caging her in, leaning down. Her brow only flinched slightly, that full, soft bottom lip pursing. He wanted to bite it. Kiss it. Make her open her eyes and say his name— and her eyes did open just barely, sleepily.

“… pay attention to me.” He breathed and watched the goosebumps break out over her skin and knowing for a fact they had nothing to do whatsoever with her being cold. How did she keep it together so well? It had only been a few weeks, but it never took more than a few hours for him to get someone into his bed. At this rate, he'd settle for a touch, a glance. A kiss felt nearly too scandalous to wish for and yet...

“What is it that you want?” She said on an exhale, a repeat of the words she had spoken at the start. Broken records, the two of them.

What he wanted was to stop feeling this way. Like his infinity was going to collapse in on him and crush his body into nothing every time you looked at him— looked away from him. He wanted to give his younger self the satisfaction of watching you fall apart under his touch, to hear you whisper the sweetest pleads and praises against his skin— hell, he wanted that satisfaction too.

Because he was attracted to you. Because you were Limitless. Because you destroyed a thousand year old statute and showed him there was a badness under that veneer just like his, waiting to break free. And mostly, because when you looked at him he sometimes swore you were actually seeing him…

…and just like that, he was so wrapped up with everything he wanted he nearly forgot to keep his attention on the things that he needed to. Like the cursed energy building up to manifest right there in the water with the two of you.

Chapter Text

Intuition was an ever going process, running in the background of our thoughts, drawing patterns and conclusions collected from the wealth of our individual experiences. It was what made people decide on a whim whether something was real, fake… right or wrong. And everything in you was flashing, screaming, blinding red warning lights of wrong at Gojo’s very proximity. His very presence. It had been since the start. Since that day, all those years ago.

Your vision was filled up, pin pricked to those bright, bright blue eyes. Unreal, unnatural— an aposematic advertisement that this man was not easy to kill. That he was dangerous, toxic, foul, aggressive… the list went on and on.

The water was hot, the steam oppressive and you wished you could claim it as the only reason your breath was catching, coming faster. Fear and attraction had the same basic biological responses— raising your heart rate, enhancing the senses…

… a fact you would be grateful for later as a flood of cursed energy assaulted you, a miasma of stagnant water and rotting plant matter erupting from where a spot in the pool had begun to blacken and bubble.

You both turned, staring now at the top of a dark head, barely breaching the surface. The pale, near skeletal sockets of a young girl with grey, bloated eyes peered out from the ripples. Long strands of black hair floated to the surface, spreading out like an oil spill.

“Oh....uh oh!”

That was all he had to say?!

“ Really !? First-grade curse right there and you didn’t even—” 

Whatever scolding you were about to lash out was interrupted by the cursed spirit, it’s rotting eyes rolling back into its head as it tilted its mouth over the water, jaw unhinged and unnatural as it let out a screeching cry.

“ MOMMY, NO!”

Oh no. Oh no no no. That was no first-grade curse.

That was a vengeful spirit, special grade. Hot spring or not, you felt your face ashening, a sick feeling spreading out through your stomach. Alone? Alone you’d be dead. The sheer volume of cursed energy that rolled off of the thing was enough to make your vision blur and your head spin— was this a psionic attack even!? You felt a sudden intense need to cough filling your lungs as if you had inhaled water.

Without a thought you moved until you were nearly pressed against Gojo’s side, a hand clutched to his arm. Before you could think to be embarrassed, to scold yourself for acting so childish… he drew that same arm lazily around you. He didn’t look worried at all, in fact, he was grinning wide, eyes sparkling with the thrill of a challenge .

“So yeah, this is the part where I’m gonna need you to run.” Gojo said, voice cheerful and light despite his words, “Cause it just marked you, and I got no idea how long before whatever technique it just let off is gonna hit you.”

Already?! When?! Your infinity wasn’t like his, it didn’t just pop up on auto mode! Why didn’t he shield you? He was literally standing right there and you could feel the familiar chill of his infinity on your own skin, raised and ready to go.

“I— but— I’m in a towel !”

The spirit disappeared, blackness roiling out from where its head had been as tendrils of slick, tangled hair shot out—

—and then you were back in your room, soaking water all over the polished wooden floors. 

“Get dressed quick then!” Gojo said and you turned your head away quickly from the eyefull of bare skin. He was already rifling through his bag and tugging out a pair of jeans, the intense, shrieking cries of the spirit trembling through the air and rattling the walls in their frames.

Dark water streamed from the hall, ripping through the paper screens and flowing over the floor. You hurried up, snatching up your bag and scrambling to pull out a skirt and a t-shirt. Modesty be damned, you threw off that towel without even giving Gojo a sideways glance, zipping up the side of your skirt while keeping an eye on the streams of water— which was completely ignoring him in favor of following after you .

It smelled. Rotten and black, clumps of hair and other grey matter that you didn’t want to begin trying to identify. You coughed again, tugging your shirt over your head just in time to catch the katana Gojo tossed your way— the same cursed weapon he had gifted to you.

“Oh yeah, really helpful! I’ll just give it a haircut?!”

Gojo rolled his eyes in response, the water filling the room enough that it would have been touching him were it not for the orb of infinity repelling it away.

“We gotta hit the source— that thing? Just a piece. And there are plenty more coming. So, like I said. Run, bait!”

“ Where ?!”

“Take a wild guess.” Gojo scoffed, and in a second he vanished, most likely to seek out the curse's source. Not that you were thinking very much about where he was going as much as you were the fact he had left you. Period.

Longer tendrils of hair slid into the room, the same shriek ringing through your head once more.

“HELP! HELP, PLEASE! SOMEONE-— ”

A different voice, a different spirit.

The water rushed off the invisible edge of your own infinity as you went straight out the balcony, landing onto the soft grass beneath. This time when you coughed, you gagged, a burst of dark water spurting from your mouth. 

Oh. A delayed drowning technique. Great . Because there was nothing better than that. Plenty of curses who functioned in water could do the same, accounting for most of the unexplainable deaths of individuals who seemed to have drowned whilst being nowhere near a body of water.

Marked — Gojo had said. Literally. There was no doubt a death brand on your throat, timed to whatever bullshit this vengeful curse worked off of. How long it took them to drown, how long it took them to die… the usual. And per usual, the technique could only be stopped by the cursed spirit, or by exorcising it.

Your lungs were already burning, breaths rattling and wet. Your mouth tasted like reeds, like fish like— like lake water. 

Obviously. You thought with a groan, coughing out another mouthful, you forced yourself forward, down the hill to the dark lake below. 

Where the hell was he? Lanterns lit up the otherwise picturesque lakeside, a small pier reaching out into the quietly lapping waves. What did he even want you to do?! You’d clearly already succeeded in acting as bait, so where the hell was he ? Better yet, where was the real curse? 

“Cursed Technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

Your senses erupted, the world as you knew it collapsing into a point and then erupting out in the familiar web of endless far-reaching information. There he was. Right at the heart of the lake— along with the cursed spirit at the core. He was right. The other spirits of lesser grades were crowding around another mass of cursed energy— non-human, a cursed spirit or a myth made real by the fears and losses of those who lived around the lake. They clung to it like remoras on a shark, eating the cursed energy it shed. No wonder no one could get a lock on just what kind of curse was causing all these deaths— there was a colony .

And Gojo was taking his sweet time to exorcise them one by one, as usual. 

You coughed up another stream of water— forced to leave at least your sensation of touch running. That was as much as you usually would risk— touch was limited, not as overwhelming as sight or hearing when it came to the telemetry abilities. It let you at least keep track of how fast your body was dying in any case.

Speaking of which— you were really, really hoping he would speed this up. Gojo wasn’t even combating the lead curse yet, dodging and delighting in utter carnage— his energy spiking up every few moments with flares of god-like speed. He was a kid in a candy shop. A bull in a china store. But this was no time to play , panic rolling fresh and hot in your chest as your breaths grew shorter, water bubbling in the back of your throat.

C’mon. C’MON! Exorcise it! Do it now!

Your mind screamed silently, frustration and fear compounding in your chest as once again Gojo’s energy moved out of reach of the larger special grade curse… but still he had not done a thing to damage it. Was this it? Were you going to fucking die waiting for Gojo to take the kill shot? Was this a game? A joke?

Was this— oh no. Oh fuck him.

This was a test .

The reason Gojo hadn’t exorcised the curse was because he was waiting for you to do what he kept insisting you could… duel wield your Limitless Telemetry with your other Limitless abilities.

That isn’t how this works!

There was grass under your knees— your legs had given out, water vomiting out from you in waves— soon to be too much for you to be able to cough up.

He’s going to let me die. The arrogant prick is going to let me die trying to prove a point.

To hell with that.

To hell with him.

There was no sense in pulling infinity around to block out the water when you were already drowning. And now you were walking while your telemetry technique was active, which was new and horribly wrong. Your senses were being assaulted with both the information you were receiving from the non-physical world and the physical. You stumbled, nearly fell, unsure if the screaming in your ears was you, or the world or the cursed spirits swarming Gojo in a last ditch effort to protect their host.

Wading into the lake, you dove beneath the dark waters, following the sensation of Gojo’s energy— your true north, the only constant that burned in your open senses wherever he was.

Tendrils of oily hair gripped around you, dragged you down, fast and hard and exactly where you wanted to be. You had just enough time to see the shape of them, the swirling energy signatures of a hundred minor curses wrapped around a large, central point. You focused on it, let the cold, oppressive weight of the dark black water hit you— pass through you.

Your lungs burned, your skin burned where the hair was tightening around your limbs, the only warmth left in your cooling body. You were dying. Properly dying . Suffocating. Drowning. Brain teetering right on the edge of ripping itself apart from seeing too much, hearing too much, being too much .

You raised a single finger, no air bubbles left to escape as you spoke the words into the lake.

Limitless Technique: Reversal Red.

A hail mary. It had worked for him once, hadn’t it? The day that went down in infamy. The day Gojo Satoru had died and rose again— you were already half way through one part of that hat trick, weren’t you? Just one act left. 

And now you could not only draw on your energy, but see more clearly the fabric of the space as you altered it within your Limitless. Combining the far-sight of the Telemetry with the power of the Reversal to edge it so close to perfection. Not Six Eyes perfect, but so damn fucking close. Gojo had been right— he’d been right and he’d been willing to let you nearly die to prove it.

The lake lit up like a sea of blood and just as the color was fading, it burst forth again in a lovely, vibrant shade of purple.

And then there was nothing.

Your ribs ached. Sternum bruising in pulses.

One. Two. Three.

Warmth. Air.

One. Two. Three.

You breathed into the warmth, taking the air it gave and you felt your heart remembering that it did in fact need to beat.

Warmth. Air. A palm on your cheek. A voice.

“Come on— stop being so dramatic.”

The voice tried to laugh, but the sound came out tense. Afraid.

Warmth. Air. A mouth open against yours. Water retched from your lungs, popped like a cork. The hand that held your cheek was on your back, rolling you onto your side as you let what felt like a lake's worth of water pour from your throat.

God everything hurt. All that energy you forced into that attack and it still hadn’t been enough to take the vengeful spirit out. It was just as you had thought— if you’d be alone, you’d have been dead.

It hurt to open your eyes, it hurt to breathe. You rolled onto your back, expecting to see the starlit sky above you, but instead only saw Gojo, blue eyes bright and glowing with open amusement. He was laughing.

Madman. Monster . 

The reversal was still flowing through your body, repairing what was probably some serious anoxic brain damage and whatever else the curse had managed to do when it wrapped you in its touch. Not that you could be sure, you’d never drowned to near death before. 

But oh god — it felt so good . Not the drowning, but the coming back . You sat up, the pain dripping off you like the streams of water off your skin. And all the while Gojo was there, laughing, joyous open and manic laughter—

“ See? You see?”

You did. You outstretched your arms, marveling at how your skin, bubbled, red and corroded near to the muscle from some kind of acid the cursed hair emitted, was stitching back together. Thrown to the very edge of death and you had clawed your way back, four words, erupting in your head as your own laughter joined Gojo’s in a frenzied chorus.

I am a god.

And then you crashed into him, his arms already open and ready as his back thudded against the cold ground. 

Warmth. Air. His mouth fitted against your own as you sucked the breath from his lungs, ravenous and euphoric— high on the rush, on life, on near-death. You bit him and tasted his blood, pressing passed his lips to lick the coppery warmth against his own tongue. It would occur to you later you were the first person to make him bleed since Toji Fushiguro…

And you were pretty sure Gojo didn’t moan like that when he did.

You were drowning again, in him—but it didn’t matter this time because the positive energy of the reversal you had never managed to produce ever was flooding you full of oxygen and endorphins and pumping, bright, throbbing, blinding life through your entire being. 

Gojo’s hands were pushing up under your skirt, grabbing at the round flesh of your ass, bare still beneath the fabric. You hadn’t exactly had a lot of time to get dressed . He lifted his hips, rolled hard up against you, the denim rough and raw against the soft, delicate skin between your legs. 

His teeth set on your throat, sucked out a bruise that was healing the moment it bloomed out over your skin. It hurt, it felt amazing . You were wearing too many clothes, you were so hot — you were— you were…

You were pissed .

You jerked back, feeling his mouth unlatch from your neck with a wet, popping sound. And for the third time in your life, you made god bleed.

Your fist connected to his jaw, snapped his head to the side and broke a curse from his lips.

“ Fuck—!”

You hoped it hurt. You hoped you knocked a god damn molar loose.

“ You — you brought me here to get me killed .” you snarled, thighs clamping around his own as Gojo attempted to sit up, and you forced him back into the dirt with a rough push. He looked up at you from the flat of his back, rolling fresh blood, nearly black in the moonlight, across his tongue. The taste seemed to intrigue him, sliding his tongue across the front of his teeth and painting his grin with a dark smear.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

This time when you tried to strike him, your hand froze in mid-air, trembling as the force of his Infinity held you back.

“Did you know? Did you know what was here? Sitting under that fucking lake? Is what it did to me how it killed the last sorcerer who came here?”

Gojo laughed again— as if this were all tedious. Boring. Typical you, getting so upset over something so silly.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use the full potential of your Limitless— and now I have. And you did it. You were so close , did you even feel how close you were?”

To that full potential only the Six Eyes could master. Yes, you had felt it. Felt for one shining moment the power of omnipresence—everywhere, everywhen. And that wasn’t even Six Eyes— that was just Limitless . Real Limitless. The kind of level you had been climbing and clawing upwards to meet.

He had pushed you to the edge of ruin… and he had done it with a song in his heart. A smile on his lips.

Dangerous, toxic, foul, aggressive—

“You lied to me.”

“Don’t be so naive. It was only by omission.”

“You lied to me.”

Gojo sighed, “In all honesty, I thought we’d have at least a day or so before it popped up, but damn . It must have been really scared of my being here to go that hard!”

Forcing your knees down into the grass, you stood up, wiping your mouth against the back of your hand and wishing it would take the taste of that kiss away with it. You stood over him, feet planted firmly on either side of his hips. Gojo simply tucked his arms behind his head, not even having the decency to be bruised from your punch.

“You asked for this.” he said, eyes unblinking as he looked up at you, “You wanted it. Bargained for it. And this time, you agreed to be bait.”

“I asked you to teach me!” you shouted, unable to argue with anything else he spat back at you. You had agreed— you had agreed to be bait to a second-grade curse, not a menagerie.

“And here ends today’s lesson.”

If it weren’t for the infinity protecting him you would have drop kicked him right in the ribs. Instead, you watched as his eyes fell down over your body, his tongue coming out to slide over his bottom lip. The cut you’d bitten there was already gone.

It took you a beat to realize where he was looking— how you were standing both panty-less and in a skirt over him. Disgust rolled in your stomach as you quickly stepped back, pushing your skirt down flat over your thighs.

It was easy enough to keep walking after that first step, focusing on the onsen high up on the hill. He laughed at you again, his voice following after,

“Where are you going?”

Home.

You only wished you’d had the presence of mind to tear off the ring and throw it at him before you left.

Chapter Text

Tokyo had its perks— the night life, the restaurants, the people… modern and scaling and gorgeous in its scope. But Kyoto? Kyoto was home. Summer was in its death thralls now, the first day of autumn having come and gone while you were— well. Living this weird new life

Utahime was weirdly quiet as you worked through your second bowl of ice-cream, a half empty coke in a glass on the side and a box of half-a-dozen donuts. Only two and a half remained. You had relayed the events to her between bites, trying with little success to stop the churning feeling of hunger that seemed to throb in your stomach since the night before.

You definitely didn’t feel or look like someone who nearly died. In fact, the first thing Utahime had said when she saw you was how healthy you looked. Glowing, radiant. Her mouth had turned down with heavy dread and you nearly groaned aloud when she asked if you were pregnant.

But you’d kissed him. If you could call it a kiss. More like a tussle that involved some light biting and licking— the memory making your face flush red. You’d left that bit out your retelling of the previous night to Utahime, pausing now to scoop up the melted remains of your ice-cream and licking it off your spoon.

“Long story short— I can do reversal now.”

Utahime blinked.

“It— it’s like some wall broke down. Like all this time I thought I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t good enough. And then I had no choice but to get good enough and now?”

You gestured to the carnage around the table in the Kyoto tech cafeteria.

“I feel—“

Invincible. Unstoppable. Your cursed energy level was buzzing to the brim.

“— I feel really good.”

“… he almost got you killed. He did get you killed and then resuscitated you.” Utahime said, her voice measured, even. Only you could have known the anger she was holding back in those words, her hands curling in her lap. She hadn’t touched her own udon noodles.

“Yeah, that part was shitty. Which is why I’m… here.”

“Are you going back?”

As if on queue, your phone chimed. Another missed call. He couldn’t take a hint could he?

“My shit is still at his apartment.” You said with a sigh, sucking your spoon into your mouth. Utahime’s eyes fell on the ring still affixed to your finger, her expression skeptical.

“There are better, safer ways to become a first-grade sorcerer.” Utahime began, her voice serious, “… I think you should call it off.”

“You’re probably right.”

The quickness of your reply seemed to startle her. Your phone chimed again— and again. And again. You let out an exasperated groan and fished your phone from your pocket, just thankful it had managed to survive the flood. Your bag and other clothes were currently hanging back at Utahime’s apartment. You could have gone to your own place, but then Gojo would be able to find you. As far as you knew, he had no idea where Utahime’s place was.

You had four missed calls and several unanswered texts.

You mad bro?

Charming.

So when you said “home” I thought you meant like— my place lol

Where you run off too? You cryin? ( ｡ •̀ᴗ-)
Hellooooooo?

Answer your phone jfc

Those were just from a few hours after you had teleported off, utilizing your new well of energy to easily pop off right into Utahime’s living room the night before. The unannounced teleportation had been a “shock” for her to say the least.

Answer your phone.

He’d gotten a bit more demanding by the morning.

Where are you?

Quit masking your energy like a brat.

Mid-morning.

I’m in Kyoto. Cute place you got here.

Nice underwear drawer.

He’d just been trying to get a rise out of you. Even if he was in your apartment rifling through your things, you hardly gave a shit at this point. You scrolled to his most recent text messages and could barely hide the way you were gritting your teeth.

Answer your phone now.

If you’re breaking our arrangement I want to know.

Why? So he could find a replacement? You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Utahime— give me a second.”

She frowned, “What? No, don’t call him! That's what he wants! Don’t let him intimidate you--”

“This isn’t about intimidation.”

Oh no. Not by a long shot. You pushed yourself up from your seat and headed out the cafeteria into the campus proper, dialing his number and trying to still the rapid beating of your heart. Anticipating the sound of his voice, the click of the phone answering.

He let you ring five times before he answered.

Neither of your spoke.

It felt like time had come to a stand still. You thought you heard him breathing— or maybe that was a scoff. There was a faint sound of people and traffic in the background. Was he still in Kyoto?

Your words, “What do you want?”, fell over his own, “Where are you?” In a muddled mess of sounds. Both of you having caved and begun to speak at the same time.

Silence.

“Kyoto.” You answered. Silence. The kind of silence that made your heart sound like a drum and the blood in your veins rush like a river.

“When will you be back?”

There was a slowness to his words. A carefulness that was uncommon of him.

“… I don’t know.”

He sighed, “What will I tell the family then when they ask me why you’ve gone to Kyoto without me?”

“Tell them we had a fight. Couples do that kind of shit all the time.”

You could almost hear his smile.

“Is that what happened?”

Don’t talk about it. Don’t bring it up. The last thing you were prepared to do was explain why you had kissed him. Why your lips tingled at the memory. Why your mouth felt lonely for more.

“I told you. I said, no more games. You talk to me straight. No more burning me to prove a point, remember?”

He didn’t say anything.

“You lied. I can’t trust you. How can I be partnered with you as a sorcerer?” You tried to keep your voice inflectionless, calm. Simple. It was purely logic that drove your words, not the deep seated feeling of anger and something edging near hurt aching in your chest.

Why did I kiss him?

“You also said you wouldn’t let things that happened on missions affect how we acted in our ‘engagement’.” Gojo’s voice was cold, distant. Was he angry? He seemed angry. Good. You were angry too.

“Don’t twist this around on me. You broke the rules first.”

Another sigh. Like he was disappointed. Utahime was right, this was a bad idea. It had always been a bad idea.

“How’s your appetite? Crazy, ain’t it?”

What an insultingly obvious attempt to change the subject.

“If I focus just right, I can still make you out… all that cursed energy has got to be new for you, yeah?”

You ran your tongue over your teeth, remembered the way his blood tasted.

“I’m not coming back. You don’t get to make choices about my safety, my life, what I’m ready for without me.”

“Why not?” He asked, barking out a laugh, “I did and it worked and just maybe you should consider thanking me rather than thinking you get to talk to me like—“

“Like an equal?!” You interrupted, voice pitching up in your outrage, “Should have thought about that before you made me the nearest damn thing.”

You hung up. His name showing up as an incoming call in nearly half a second. You declined it. Blocked it. Shoved your phone back in your pocket and began to walk back towards the cafeteria— all the while something was building, storming up from your chest in a flare of cursed energy. Your throat burned, a scream hanging just there, building up in your mouth until with a snarl you unleashed it…

And without even meaning to, you set off your Limitless, the blue light flashing bright for a split second before the very concrete beneath you twisted and burst apart in a sound like an explosion.

None of the concrete touched you, bits and pieces bouncing off your Infinity. Even your feet hovered over the hole you had blown into the ground. Sorcerers flooded out from the cafeteria and surrounding buildings— Kasumi’s blue hair drawing your eye over to where even the third years had congregated— Todo and Noritoshi both out and looking for whatever trouble had caused the surge of energy.

You settled back unto the ground, eyes wide, unsure of where to even begin to explain how that burst of uncontrolled power had come from you. A second-grade sorcerer who should have better control. Who should know how to keep her emotions in check.

Utahime pushed passed, waving off the students back to their classes and trying to assure them all was well even as she flashed you a worried look.

The sound of your full name caught your ear and you turned to see Principal Yoshinobu, standing patiently behind you.

“— we will discuss this in my office.”

Dread, embarrassment, elation, wonder— all of these things flickered, unhidden over your face. A few weeks ago, using lapse blue would have knocked you out. Now? You hadn’t even noticed you were doing it. Like a sneeze. Like a scream.

What did he do to me?

Your fist tightened around you phone.

What is he still doing to me?

In Yoshinobu’s office you kneeled down and bowed so low your forehead nearly touched the floor as the practiced words come easily from your lips.

“Please forgive me. There is no excuse for my behavior.”

“Enough of that.” He said, not angry but— worried. You lifted your head and settled into a seiza on the floor, not even wanting to get up and take a chair.

Yoshinobu was considering his words, humming thoughtfully before he spoke.

“We have not had a chance to talk as we often do. You are recently engaged to Gojo Satoru, are you not?”

“… I am.”

He did not look up at you. You had not spoken to Yoshinobu since the day you were told you'd be going to Tokyo to provide back-up assistance with some missions. Their own sorcerer level was the highest, but often the need for those with specialized techniques was great. People with unique skills like your own were often moved back and forth, hired out wherever you were needed.

“And you also recently were backed for semi first-grade status— with Gojo as your designated mentor?”

The Principal was no fool. How anyone could be when such a convenient arrangement came out was impossible, but so far both you and Gojo had played your role.

“… he is very protective.” You said, the lie tasted as foul as rotted lake water on your tongue.

“I see.”

You had to explain. The mission, the change in your power. The higher-ups would send inquiries sure enough if they hadn’t already. This much change in such a short amount of time was something that could cause an investigation to make certain you hadn’t done something illegal to garner power… like take possession of a cursed item or make a deal with a curse itself. You parted your lips to speak, but Yoshinobu rose a hand to silence you.

“If… arrangements could be made to have your first-grade status assured… would you be willing to consider… ending your engagement with Gojo?”

What?

“I don’t understand.”

“I think arrangements could easily be made to find you a new mentor. None are comparable strength wise, that is to be sure, but— well. There are many more agreeable alternatives. And I would of course make sure any attempts at meddling done by the Gojo clan in retribution are swiftly blocked.”

Gojo had threatened if you broke off the engagement he would do whatever he needed to get you right back to second-grade and keep you there. Could Yoshinobu really prevent that?

“Your promotion is long over-due in any account. So I ask you think on this offer. It— is perhaps a hard choice, given the love you must bare your fiancé.”

At the word “love” Yoshinobu nearly chuckled. He knew. The old codger had to know. But it did seem what he didn’t know was your and Gojo’s intentions to break off the engagement before an actual marriage would take place. He simply was assuming Gojo had traded you advancement for your hand.

“… It will certainly require some consideration.” You answered, brow furrowing. What was his game? Why did he care whether you were engaged to Gojo or not? Gojo had mentioned himself that the higher-ups were taking an interest into his personal life, but you had honestly thought it was paranoia at best and typical family meddling at worse. This seemed bigger than that.

“Take your time. You are staying in Kyoto for…?”

“For now. Just a visit.”

Yoshinobu gave a wry smile.

“Yes, right. Well. If you could refrain from destroying anymore of the school property, I would appreciate it.”

You held back your impulse to roll your eyes. When had you gotten so rude? Instead you bowed again, “I am so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Then I look forward to hearing your answer before your departure… or perhaps you need not depart at all, should the answer be what I think we both know is best.”

You rose your head, eyes sharp even as you kept yourself from reacting outwardly. Was that a threat? Because it sounded like a threat.

Utahime worked late the night before and had left early that morning— no doubt because of your own disruption of the days classes and schedules. Not to mention the hole that needed filling now in the middle of the damn courtyard.

You hung around her small apartment— moping mostly. Moping and marveling in the new strength of your own abilities. You made instant coffee with your “light blue” technique as if it were nothing and had busied yourself doing other insignificant tiny tasks with the telekinetic like abilities of your Limitless.

It distracted you for the most part… though every once and awhile you’d gaze at your phone and consider removing the block off Gojo’s number. He probably just thought you were ignoring him again. Sighing you turned away from where your phone sat on the small coffee table and tucked back unto the sofa. Utahime had a tiny, antenna based tv-set, which got only local channels.

You missed Gojo’s TV and movies, that was sure. And his couch. And the way his apartment smelled like his cologne and coffee in the morning… the way he seemed to constantly have a smile on his face. Blue eyes bright and watching you from the counter as you cooked the both of you the plainest breakfast—

Ugh. Why were you remembering that?

You huffed and looked over at your phone again. This was stupid. You picked it up and opened the contacts— but stopped yourself just short of unblocking his number.

Your heart plummeted to your feet, a silent and barely resolute “no” coming from your lips as you shut off the phone and sat back into the sofa cushions. There was no point in thinking about it… you wouldn’t compromise your need for honesty. For trust. If you were going to put your life in his hands again, you needed to know he wouldn’t drop it just for a laugh.

There was a knock at the apartment door. You brought up your telemetry and confirmed the person on the other side was not a cursed user. Ending the technique you got up and checked the peep hole— it was a young man in a uniform, a clipboard in his hand.

You opened the door part way, “Good morning?”

“Hello, good morning! Is Ms.—“ he consulted the clipboard and said your name, “— at home?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“I have a delivery for you! Will you accept?”

Your eyes narrowed, the strangeness of your reaction making the delivery man look a bit nervous. You opened the door further and spotted what he held in his other arm more fully. Packaged securely under white tissue paper was a large bouquet of blue hyacinths, lily-of the valley… pink roses and bright, beautifully white orchids. There was even a tiny card fold inside it.

“…Who are they from?”

A pointless question. So he did know where Utahime lived. That he hadn't just shown up on his own was nice and showed a shocking and sudden level of respect for your wishes... but you were hardly in a giving mood. He should have led with that.

“Unaddressed, I’m sorry.”

You took the man's pen and signed the line, taking ownership of the truly heavenly smelling bouquet and stepped back with a courteous goodbye to the delivery man. Back in the privacy of Utahime’s apartment you came to sit down heavily on her sofa, looking over the soft petals. The hyacinths were closer to violet in color than blue, a subtle choice.

My favorite color is purple.

Curiosity got the better of you and you took out your phone, searching the meaning associated with each flower. Peace. Appreciation. Rebirth and sincerity. Was this… was this an apology? All of these flowers seemed to follow a common theme. Had he really been that thoughtful or was he just picking the things that looked good?

Finally, with some reservation, you plucked the card from the arrangement and unfolded it.

Call me. It said. And in rougher, near illegible scrawl, added in afterthought—

Please.

Chapter Text

And so you had called him. Which was how this afternoon you had ended up in an empty classroom at Kyoto tech, waiting for him to show up. Neutral ground. You had insisted. You wouldn’t have felt comfortable in Utahime’s apartment, or your own or his. Too vulnerable. Too familiar.

This classroom hadn’t been used in several seasons, all the desks pushed to the side and covered with sheets to keep the dust off. You sat on the ledge that extended off by the window,  looking down over the empty garden and koi pond, dotted with cherry trees that bloomed pink and bright in spring. It would be October next week and already the leaves had begun to change to the bright reds and oranges of autumn.

Even from this distance, with your telemetry you could watch the gold fish and koi in the pond dart and swim around. Playing now, before they would be moved from the outdoors to their inner winter home.

And you could see the warm beacon of cursed energy that was Gojo, sliding open the door and stepping into the classroom.

He had his armor on. The jujutsu tech uniform and cloth blindfold. You couldn’t mock him for that small comfort, because you too were dressed in your own dark navy uniform, katana on your hip.

Anyone walking in could have mistaken this as a meeting before a mission. You crossed your arms and turned your eyes away from him so you wouldn’t make the mistake of looking at his lips. The constant reminder you were now another notch on the endless list of girls who had kissed them.

Gojo didn’t swagger as he usually did, but crossed the room with an air of near hesitancy. He shut the door behind him. The tension was painful and you hated it. Even if it was deserved.

“… the flowers were a nice touch.” You said, breaking the silence and trying to ignore the warmth that spread through your chest when he finally broke and grinned.

“I know.”

If you had been smiling in return it faded then.

“You’re still wearing it.”

You looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“The ring.”

Ah. You looked down at your hand with a startled ‘oh’, rubbing your middle finger against your ring and feeling the rough edge of the stones in the band.

“So. How long did he give you to decide whether to dump me for a different mentor and protection from the family?”

His talent for catching you off guard was truly inhuman. You tried to mask the way your eyes widened at his remark, but he saw it of course. He saw everything.

“Didn’t specify.”

“You should take his offer.”

“There you go again…” you mumbled to yourself, not feeling charitable enough to clarify even as he tilted his head curiously.

“I should take his offer or you want me to take his offer?”

Gojo shrugged, “It definitely makes things more difficult for me, but I’m not going to convince you if you’ve already made up your mind. Before you had one option, now you got two.”

He grinned again and you wished you could see his eyes to tell if it was genuine or false.

“And one has a hell of a lot less strings attached. I know which I’d pick.”

“As you have helpfully pointed out in the past, I am not you.”

Why did you say that? Now his smile was fading and his lips were parting in a silent show of even more confusion. Good. You could both be confused, dancing around this elephant in the room until the end of time. You were still waiting for an apology.

“Did you come here to apologize?” You asked at last.

“Not entirely.”

You shoved off from the ledge, ready to walk out the door.

“Hold on. You got pissed last time I lied, so I’m being honest now.”

You paused— tentatively. Might as well give him a few more feet of rope to hang himself with.

“I’m not going to promise I’ll never lie to you. That would be the biggest lie I’ve ever told and you aren’t the kind of person who’d be dumb enough to believe me if I did.” He said, pushing both hands into his pockets and shrugging up his shoulders.

“But I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest.

“I would have been pretty bummed out if you died for real. If you need me to say I’m sorry, then I’m sorry. There won’t be a repeat of this passed mission— a fact I can’t really prove unless you agree to stick with me. A catch twenty-two, I know.”

Your lips thinned, rolling together, mulling over his words. Wondering to yourself how bitter they must have tasted on his tongue. Gojo was not one for apologies and this wasn’t exactly a high grade one in any account. But you could tell by the way he was looking at you he knew he had you… because you weren’t leaving and you weren’t throwing anything, including your hands.

Because you wanted to believe him.

“For which parts are you sorry exactly?” You asked. Shrewd, practical.

“All of it.”

Liar.

“Well—“ Gojo said, reaching up and touching his lips, running the side of a finger over them, “… not all of it.”

Ah. Of course he had to bring it up. That kiss that wasn’t a kiss at all because you hadn’t even been in your right mind.

“What is it that you want?” You huffed, repeating the question again from the very start. The one he had twice not answered truthfully. Your eyes were not on the wall or on your hands, but on his. Even if you couldn’t seen them. Your cheeks were burning, your bottom lip wet from where you had tucked it in under your teeth, the rise and fall of your breathing pressing your breasts out against the material of your shirt.

“Right now? Just you.” He said it and he meant it.

“Do you want me to say no to principal Yoshinobu?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to let me nearly die, be maimed or otherwise seriously injured for any other Limitless power-up attempts?”

“No.”

He took a step closer and you startled like a trapped rabbit. He chuckled lightly, pulled his hands from his pockets, holding them out. Harmless, right?

Gojo tipped down and sat on the window sill ledge, bouncing one leg idly as you processed that one single word and everything you could interpret from it. Why, why did you want to agree? He didn’t deserve your loyalty, your compliance. He deserved to be dropped on his ass and to never speak with you again.

And yet— you turned toward him, jaw set firmly as you stepped forward into the space between his thighs, forcing him to part his legs.

“Uh oh. That’s a scary look.” Gojo said, tilting his neck slightly to look up at you. You didn’t reply, you reached out and slid his blindfold off, revealing the shimmering blue eyes beneath, alight with curious amusement.

“Close your eyes. Hold still.” You said, orders dropping off your tongue.

“Why?”

Did he sound a little nervous?

“I want to test something. Don’t do anything, just hold still. Sit on your hands if you have to… and take down your Infinity.”

“Are you gonna off me?” Gojo said, voice quiet, teasing. He did, in fact, sit on his hands. The image enough to make even you smile.

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

He laughed and did as you said, shutting his eyes. He could probably still see you even then, but it made you feel less vulnerable, less exposed. You brought your hand to his jaw, stroked your thumb over the line of it until your thumb was beneath his chin. You tilted his face up just a fraction. God he was so beautiful, pale lashes closed against his cheek. Skin soft and smooth and warm under your touch. His Infinity was down.

He said your name, a soft, teasing tone to his voice.

This time when you pressed your lips against his, there was no urgency. He didn’t kiss back, which was just fine with you. You kissed his bottom lip, his top, gentle, testing— tasting. Your other hand ghosted through the hair at the back of his neck and he chuckled against your mouth, muttered, “That tickles.”

And then he kissed back, opening his mouth to yours, letting you have full range to explore with your lips and the tip of your tongue, curiously touching at his and feeling a rush of heat when he touched back. He breathed in sharply, one kiss sliding easily into the next until it felt like there was nothing between you. Not even space. Not even air.

His hands were on your waist, sliding until his arms were around you, pulling you in closer. You’d told him not to move— the thought coming and dying in your head with just another kiss, deeper, sharper. He licked into your mouth, slid his hands under the back of your shirt.

Gojo kissed you like he could tip forward and fall into the very essence of you, drown in it, and die happy. It was supernovas colliding. Two black holes pulling one another into their limitless, infinite void. Collapsing, collapsing, collapsing.

This is what happened when two Limitless energies collided. Stars were born in such clusters. Universes. Galaxies. Something was taking root, passing between the two of you and forming at the center— you tried to break away from him, eyes opening to see Gojo’s own blue ones, half lidded and staring up back at you as he tried to follow after.

You pressed your hand against his mouth to stop him and he relented, the hold on your waist relaxing.

“… I’ll come back. But this is the last time. You fuck up again and I’m out.” You said with a stern nod, replacing his blindfold. Gojo attempted to stop the slide of the fabric over one of his eyes, his eyebrow raising as he, of all people, stumbled over a reply.

“Uh— oh. Cool. Okay, so when—“

“I’ll see you back home. Excuse me. I have a few things I need to take care of here first.”

The absolutely gobsmacked look on his face was worth the risk of him noting how flustered you were, cheeks burning red and your entire body near to trembling with the intensity of everything that had happened.

He hadn’t noticed. Which was good, because you liked this feeling— powerful and immense in the face of what you had confirmed. He wanted you. Genuinely, truly, wanted you. Enough to apologize as much as he was capable. Enough to do as you asked, even in this small way. This wasn’t just a wanting in a hate-fuck way, oh no. You were fairly certain it was still simply a physical urge on his part… but there was something else. Something that piqued your curiosity.

There were other things to take care of right now though. Things to consider. Like whether the risk was worth the reward of letting Gojo Satoru have his way.

Or you having yours.

You kissed his forehead, the way he had done to fluster you once before, and turned and left the classroom without a glance back. You didn’t need to see him to know his ears were reddening, hand pressed to the spot you had kissed.

This was new.

Not in a fun shiny way but in a confusing messy way that had his head spinning in circles, trying to figure out what just fucking happened.

She’d kissed him. Twice. The first was in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline of battle. He would have been more than willing to accept it as a fluke, a one off. But that second one? God that second one still had him tingling, tongue running over the corner of his mouth as he sat in his apartment literally waiting for her to get back.

Him. Waiting.

This was new and it was bullshit.

How did he get here? What even was here? Half of him was tense, annoyed and desperate to regain control over the situation and then the other half was buzzing with anticipation. Warm and aching low in his groin, a spark away from being a forest fire.

He wanted her to hurry up. He wanted her to never come back. He wanted to just fuck off to his room and pretend he didn’t care when she got home. He wanted to bend her over the the moment she did, fuck her until she couldn’t see straight and then right when she was at her peek, stop— pull out and jerk himself to finish on her ass, letting her wiggle and whine with the same frustration he was feeling now as he denied her release.

The things he would do to her if given half the chance. He was half-hard again, trying to will the throbbing away… not wanting to touch himself yet. Not now, not when there was a chance she would be here any minute.

Because more than anything— and this was genuinely freaking him out— he just wanted to kiss her again. Hell, he could go without the rest if she just let him kiss her again. What the fuck did that even mean?

No one had ever kissed him like that. Not sense— well. Back then. Like they didn’t just want the possible pleasure he could give them, but something else— something that would take cracking the cage of his ribs and pulling his chest wide open.

If I get the feeling rule, you get the feelings rule.

No. No, he was just not used to getting lead around by the nose was all. And that was part of her appeal wasn't it? That she wasn’t just another wide eyed distraction, ready to jump when he said how high. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy getting to finally boss her around, but he also kinda wanted her to boss him around again.

What a mess.

The front door opened and he had to stop himself from leaping up. Instead, he yawned, tipped his head back and looked at her upside down. She glided in, all casual calmness as she tossed off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. She dropped a small convenience store bag on the floor next to the sofa before plopping down into her usual spot with a heavy sigh.

“I’m guessing you know about what happened yesterday afternoon?” She said, rolling her shoulders and rubbing the nape of her neck. His palm itched to settle there, squeeze there, work that tension out until she was putty in his hands.

“I mighta heard a thing or two.”

How she’d randomly burst a hole into the concrete? Oh yeah. People five cities over heard that.

“Well… guess it’s a good thing we already have Mr. Rabbit here for me to practice keeping my energy levels balanced. Cause this is insane.”

For once, they were in agreement.

“You want a drink?” He asked, and she ran her hands over her face and sighed.

“God, yes.”

“‘Gojo’ is fine.” He replied, ignoring the look she shot him as he got up and returned with two open soda bottles— blueberry flavored. He sat on the same sofa as her, the space of the middle seat still between them. She sat up to take the bottle with a soft laugh at his trick of words— as if he even bought alcohol. He offered her a cheers and she gently clinked her bottle against his own.

“However, ‘Satoru’ is better.”

She took a drink, smacked her lips and turned to sit sideways on the sofa, stretching out her legs, her stocking clad feet nearly touching him.

“Satoru.” She tried it out, drank again, “Sa-toh-ru…”

He scooted over, hooked an arm around her legs to lift them and then settled them over his lap, his hand on her knee. She didn’t protest, just watched him, eyes half-lidded and face expressionless.

“Last time I said it…”

She drew her leg back slightly, let her calf drag over his lap and then back. He made a sound, low, almost a moan.

“… it got you excited.”

He hummed an affirmative, looking down as she repeated the motion and feeling a sharp, hot pang of arousal shoot a burst of adrenaline up to his heart.

“So tell me, Satoru—“

He looked at her, her skin warming, eyes shining with teasing interest at him. Her lips were stained just the faintest shade of blue. She took another slow drink, licking the seam of her mouth to catch a stray drop.

“— you excited?”

Oh yes. Oh fuck yes. His bottle nearly toppled off the coffee table as he all but threw it onto the surface, accidentally knocking her own from her grip in his haste. It fell, spilled over the wood floors in a hiss of carbonation. She yelped, moved to grab it and he pulled her back by her knees, cupping his hands beneath them and dragging her beneath him.

“Leave it.”

And she did. He lifted one of her legs around his waist, feeling a sharp kick of delight in his chest when she hooked her ankle behind him and drew him in tighter. Where did he even start? There was her lips, open, wet. Breaths panting out, her eyes wild and bright. There was the lovely line of her throat… drawing down to where she’d unbuttoned the top of her white blouse. He could just barely see the curve of her breast, the beige lace of her bra.

She giggled, a nervous sound. Shy under his scrutiny.

“Have I wow’d you already?”

“You ‘wow’ me every god damn day.”

Where did that come from? It did the trick though, her expression moving from surprise to something gentle and inviting. He did the sensible thing and claimed her lips, slotted his mouth over them with the sole intent of kissing her senseless. She still had the presence of mind to kiss back. To card her fingers through his hair and curl the strands between them. She tugged, pulled him back enough to lick a small taunting stripe over his lips— then released him only so he could collide back into her— all teeth and tongue. Wet. Heat. Breath. His thoughts narrowed to single sensations.

More.

“Show me.” He said against her cheek, against her jaw, “Show me how bad you've wanted me.”

There plenty of ways she could accomplish it and he was curious to see what she’d pick. Would she kiss him again? Bite him? Slap him? God he wanted her to slap him so bad.

Definitely a kink…

Instead of any of those things, she took his hand and put it under her skirt, forced his palm to cup her right between her thighs. He let his fingers stroke lightly, pressing the fabric of her hose up into the soft wet heat until it was soaking. His cock jumped— she wasn’t wearing any panties.

She definitely understood the assignment. Top marks. An A plus plus. Gojo wetted his bottom lip, drew his index finger up to the hem of her hose and then slid beneath the fabric, not yet touching where she needed him, but so close.

“Look at me.”

She did, reluctantly, eyes wavering, face burning. He leaned forward and bit her cheek.

“Ow— Gojo, stop that—“ she hissed and he let go, licked the little indent he left behind with the tip of his tongue.

“Satoru,” He chided, “Look at me. Look at me while I touch you and say my name.”

And then his fingers was stroking along her slit, tracing between her folds and teasing that tight little hole. Barely letting the tip of his finger slip in. She was already soft and yielding and obscenely wet.

“Satoru—“ she said, breathy, exasperated.

He pushed his finger inside all the way to the last knuckle and watched her eyes widen, her thighs trying to shut around his hand, stopped by his body between them.

“Whose touching you? Whose inside you?” He said against the shell of her ear, biting the sensitive skin, licking over it.

“Y-you are…”

“Who?” He asked, adding in a second finger, ignoring how her walls resisted and spasmed, forcing them to make room for him.

“Satoru,” You whispered, “Satoru…”

“What, baby? What?” He chided. Still unsatisfied. He drew his fingers up, searching for that spot against the high point inside her walls. He pressed the pad of his thumb above her clit, pushing back the hood, letting the cold air kiss her there.

Her voice was a whisper, awed, stunned, “…Satoru is inside me.”

“You’re god damn right I am.” Gojo spoke, his voice tinged with triumph, that look back in his eyes— accomplishment. Triumph. “You gave me the run around didn’t you, baby? Held out for a good long while… I’m impressed.”

“Don’t push it, Gojo.”

That she was even managing to talk back meant he wasn’t doing a good enough job, but the pooling of wetness in his palm said otherwise. He rocked into her, let her feel the hard line of him, tracing diagonally down his pant leg.

“Call me ‘Gojo' again, and I’ll make you choke on this.”

Her eyes went wide, cheeks flushing in indignation, in arousal. He knew there was a dirty little brat in there somewhere and he planned to pry her out eventually. He drew back his fingers, enjoying the little wiggle of her hips and the whine that came from her throat.

He rose up his hand, pressing his fingers together and then drawing them apart— lines of sticky fluid stretching between them.

“You like that thought, huh? I could put you on your knees later, if you want. Slap your face with my dick and let you swallow it down your throat. I’ll treat you like a slut or a princess— dealer’s choice.”

His lips quirked into a grin, “But I think you would prefer a bit of both.”

Outrage, fury, desire. They flashed through your eyes as a dozen words formed and died like dragon’s fire in the back of your pretty mouth. He waited, patient, daring her to speak out of turn again. To give him a reason— to give him permission.

“Say ‘Six Eyes’ and I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

There was her out. Her life line. A safety net. He saw her little Limitless mind working, gears turning, thinking. Deciding. He watched your kiss swollen lips quirk up into a smile, eyes narrowing, leveling.

“You think you know everything… huh, Gojo?”

Ohhhhhh fuck. Oh god, this was going to be so good. He was practically half way ready to cum in his pants by your expression alone. Defiant and stubborn and challenging.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He said, delighting in the way the low, roughness of his voice made you shiver and arch up beneath him.

In your wildest daydreams, this moment had never once flitted into your imagination. But here you were, thighs already trembling with an onslaught of sensation as those long slender fingers worked you open again, reaching deeper than your own could. His fingertips found the spot you vaguely knew he was searching for, your walls clutching down around him in a spasm.

“Not yet—“ he murmured, fingers withdrawing from within you and leaving you feeling empty, clutching at nothing with a frustrated whimper. And then both his hands were gripping the opening of your blouse, a protest rising up only to die in your throat as he ripped— buttons popping free of their seams.

“You rip my bra— you’re a dead man.” You managed and Gojo simply tsked his tongue. He took hold of the underwire and pulled down, exposing your breasts, the peeks already tight and reddened. He admired the view openly— you could only imagine how you looked… your breasts pushed up, fuller from the constricting fabric folded now beneath them.

“Promises, promises…”

And then he put his mouth to better use, cupping your breasts in his hands, pushing them together and licking a pert nipple into his mouth. He sucked, flicked his tongue over it until your legs latched around his waist and you whimpered, over-stimulated and somehow under stimulated at the same time.

He kissed his way over the soft curve of your breast, lavishing the flat of his tongue over the other peak.

“You sensitive?” He murmured, pinching your saliva coated nipple between his forefinger and thumb. Rolling.

“Y-yes…”

“That feel good?”

You nodded, lifting your hips, trying to roll up against him. Anything to put some kind of friction against where you were aching most. He bit the side of your breast, sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

“Touch them.” He said, his mouth trailing down your sternum, biting the high point of your ribs— sucking another bruise there. You were tentative at first, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it off with the remains of your shirt, relieved to be rid of the lace scratching at you. You set your palms over your chest, arching into your touch— the way you liked, the way you did on your own.

“Fuck that’s hot.”

And then all that shyness, all that hesitancy was gone. Because you weren’t getting to fuck Gojo Satoru— he was getting to fuck you. His hands found the zipper of your skirt, the soft buzz of it filling the air before he tugged it down over your thighs in one quick movement. You didn’t even bother trying to stop him from prying his fingers into your stockings and ripping the mesh apart, skin spilling from the splits in the seams.

“Favorite tights…” You said with a groan.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He sat up, reached behind his back and pulled his t-shirt off in one smooth moment and threw it aside, “Unzip me.”

Again you were struck with the thought— no man should be allowed to be this arrogant, this powerful and this beautiful. He said to unzip him, but instead you were running your hands up over his stomach, watching the muscles flex and play beneath your fingertips, tracing the almost downy softness of the hair that trailed down to the hem of his jeans. White as the hair on top of his head.

“Don’t get lost down there…” he said with a low laugh and you popped the button free at the top of his jeans and slid the zipper down, tucked your hand inside and felt against his boxers were he was damp, pre-cum smearing across your fingertips.

He sighed, or moaned— you couldn’t tell. The sound was breathy, content, as if to silently say finally. Finally. You smirked up at him, drew your hands back and turned as best you could to grab up the plastic convenience store bag you had set down when you came in.

He watched you, perplexed and maybe even a little annoyed— until recognition lit up over his face at the pack of condoms and lube you pulled out. And then he laughed. Absolutely cracked up, the force of it shaking the you beneath him until you were laughing too. A regular couple of fucking hyenas.

“A three pack? I’m insulted.”

You rolled your eyes, pulled the cardboard open and took out a shiny packet from inside. What could you say? When you made up your mind, you made it up and you always came prepared. Gojo helpfully took the lube, considered for a moment and then carelessly uncapped the lid and led a stream pour out directly unto your pussy.

You yelped, flinched at the cold and nearly bucked him right off.

“Excuse you—“

“What? I’m helping!”

Forget his body. No one this arrogant or this powerful should be given a smile like that. Turned up at the corner, proud and self-congratulating and yet excessively charming. He watched, face flushed and eyes eager and hungry as you pushed his jeans and his boxers down.

And of course he had to have the prettiest dick you’d ever seen too. Ending in a blushing gradient of peach and red at the tip. The ridge down the underside of his shaft was prominent and you curiously traced your finger up along it right to his head, watching the way it flexed and bobbed at the touch.

You unfolded the condom and slid it over him with slow, teasing touches. Gojo was being uncharacteristically quiet, a quick glance up and you caught those eyes— nearly luminous in the darkened living room, intently watching you. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but his lips were parted, his chest rising and falling a little faster.

You felt a renewed surge of heat, of wetness pooling in-between your legs and, without looking away, you took him in your hand. Guided the tip of him between your legs and rubbed him against your clit until your eyes hazed over and you thought you could cum just from that light touch alone.

“Ask me.” He said, voice hoarse, gravelly, “Ask me.”

Oh it was out before you even had comprehended what he was asking from you. The words already there, right on the tip of your tongue as his previous assertion ran through your head. I’m going to ruin you.

“—Fuck me.”

You yelped as his hand went under one of your knees, forced your leg up and open. This would be so much easier in bed or hell— on the floor, but no. Gojo was content to ruin his leather sofa that probably cost a small fortune.

All of those thoughts obliterated from your mind when he set the tip of himself inside you, cupped his other hand under your knee and with agonizing slowness, slid in as he all but folded you in two.

You were going to be so fucking sore tomorrow and he knew it and neither one of you cared.

“Ohthankfuck— finally. Finally, fucking finally.” Gojo mumbled to himself, drawing back only the tiniest amount and bottoming back out until his hips were flush against you and you felt his head bump with a dull ache against your cervix.

It hurt, but the good kind of hurt. The kind you wanted more of and you wanted it now. You reached behind yourself, braced your forearms against the armrest of the sofa— and not a moment to soon as the next time Gojo pulled back and thrusted in, it would have sent your head slamming into the armrest instead.

You pushed back, clutching, tensing, a strangled moan falling from your lips as he did it again, and again— hard, steady. The smack of skin and the wetness of your insides obscene in the otherwise silent living room.

The stretch was delicious in itself, giving way eventually to the sensation of his shaft, catching and rubbing against that sensitive ring of skin right at your entrance. He hadn’t bothered to touch your clit, so you did it instead, fingertips swirling around the outside of the firm bud and earning a positively wrecked groaned from the man above you.

“Oh… oh my god…” you panted, his pace quickening in bursts that had you nearly whiting out.

He was a demon. A monster. A creature sent directly from hell to utterly ruin your life— that was the only explanation for how good this could possibly feel. You had expected him to be selfish, rough— a typical over zealous lover who only wanted to get off as fast as possible. Not to be fucked within an inch of your life.

“I told you…” he huffed, “Satoru is fine.”

His name became the only word you could form other than a litany of “yes”, “don’t stop” and just once a breathy, whimpered “please”.

Just when you thought your skin couldn’t get any hotter, that the sweat sticking your back to the sofa and stinging across your skin was going to become too much, your senses went dull. Everything gone except for one solid point where your fingers were coaxing out that familiar, prickling, delicious ache.

He let go of one of your legs, forced you to keep it up without his support and swatted your hand aside. His thumb took the place of your fingers, matching the pace you had set.

“Good girl— sweet girl… you gonna cum on this cock? You wanna? Open your mouth, baby. Open your mouth.”

What? Why? In the haze of your incoming release, you didn’t even care. His thumb had slowed and you wanted it fast and steady again. You parted your lips, eyes registering vaguely a look of sick satisfaction that settled in the storming blue of his own.

Gojo leaned over and spit, a long line of saliva dropping from his lips and falling into your mouth. And then before you could react, before you could do anything you were breaking, hips jerking with rolling, intense spasms as your orgasm set off like a fucking bomb between your thighs.

He dropped your legs, surged forward, set his mouth over yours and you had no choice but to swallow, to let him ride the crest of your high, chasing his own. There were tiny sparks behind your eyelids, aches settling in places you knew would be stiff tomorrow. The obvious wetness seeping down between your legs and the stickiness of the sofa against your skin was no longer something that could easily take the backseat of your senses as everything began to come down.

More than anything right then, you wanted the heavy and hot form of Gojo to let up, but he was caging you in, face buried in your neck, sucking another bruise there as he muffled a deep groan into your skin.

You felt him pulsing, emptying into the condom inside you with short, stuttering thrusts. You were still pulsing, still buzzing with aftershocks of pleasure. Your cunt beating like a second heart.

Were you even mad? God you weren’t even mad. Just sleepy and satisfied down to your bones. And that was only round one.

Gojo sat up, pulled himself out and slid off the very full condom. He tied a knot to the end and then, with only the briefest hesitation, slapped it down right on your stomach with a stupid, blissed out grin.

“Dude— gross.” You said with a snort, laughing despite yourself by how proud he looked.

“It’s a compliment of the highest order."

You shook your head, brushing your hair from your heated skin and trying to catch your breath. Gojo, to your intense gratitude, moved off to sit next to you. He arched off the sofa to pull his boxers and his pants back up, but left them unzipped. He set his hand on your bent knee, rubbing his thumb in idle circles there. A point of contact. An entirely human need for a boy-god to have. You plucked the condom off your stomach with a grimace and tossed it unto his coffee table, Gojo making a face at the sound.

“Now that is gross— we eat there.”

“I need a shower. Like five showers. Ugh, help peel me up.”

Gojo tilted his head back and barked a laugh, but he did get up and took your outstretched hands, helping you sit up from the couch. It clung to your back, pulling a hiss from your throat. He plopped right back down afterwards, ogling you openly with a look of utter satisfaction. What a mess. The whole room smelled like syrupy blueberries, the forgotten soda bottle having rolled beneath the coffee table and left a warming puddle beneath it. You picked up his bottle from the table, still mostly full and took a long drink.

“That’s mine.” He whined and you handed the bottle over when you were finished.

“What’s yours is mine, sweetheart.” You reminded him and stood on shaky, tired legs. There was really no reason for modesty at this point so you took the extra time to peel your ruined tights off, standing fully naked and enjoying the cool air on your skin.

Gojo made a sound, humming. Contented. He sipped his soda and looked you over, hand reaching out to smooth over your hip and turn you fully towards him. He lazed back, head lolling against the sofa and a smirk on his lips.

“See something you like?” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Mmm… tits could be bigger.”

“I’m taking a shower. You clean up.” You pulled from his grasp and disappeared down the hall before he could protest.

The shower was heaven. Soothing the dull ache that was already forming in your limbs and giving you a private space to get out the stupid, bright smiles you couldn’t keep off your face. Why were you so giddy? The man had given you what was possibly the best sex of your life, spat in your mouth and you were giggling. Rushing through washing so you could go back out there and— what?

You couldn’t imagine Gojo Satoru was much of a cuddler. That seemed a bit too far into the feelings territory and given your own lack of confidence that you could be anything more than a something-with-benefits it would probably be best to keep that kind of emotional intimacy limited.

That sobering thought was enough to kick you down a peg as you toweled off and stopped off in your room to change into a t-shirt and clean underwear. You could just go to bed, really… no sense in setting yourself up for awkwardness. But something compelled you to throw your hair up in the towel and pad out quietly back into the living room.

You heard the familiar sounds of the tv, the volume low. The sofa gleamed, the room smelling vaguely of lemon cleaning supplies. The condom was, thankfully, gone, but the box and lube remained set out on the coffee table.

Gojo himself was stretched out on the short loveseat, his long legs barely accommodated. He said nothing at your approach, but reached up to offer you a bottle of water. He’d gotten another soda for himself.

You snatched it, took one look at the still questionably wet seat that you usually inhabited and chose to stand.

“You going to bed?” Gojo asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Yeah, you?”

“I don’t sleep, babe.” He said simply, confirming what you had already suspected given the abilities of his Six Eyes. He slept sometimes, you had seen that for yourself, but only when his Six Eyes was inhibited.

“But if I did, I totally would. You wore me the fuck out.”

“Liar. You coulda used the whole box.” You said, taking another drink. He chuckled and half turned to look at you.

"I'll take my time usin' it up instead. Savor it, yeah?" He had his sunglasses back on, eyes hidden from your sight. He looked like there was something more he wanted to say… and you felt for a minute there was something you should be saying too— but couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

So you stared at one another for way too long to be normal like a couple of idiots, waiting for some tension to pop up and make it weird and finding that it just— wasn’t. You were both perfectly content to be there, in silence, while some horrible B-rated looking horror flick played out on the screen.

“Good night.” You said at last, and you took a step forward. The motion stilted, stalled as you realized you were moving forward to kiss him. Like some kind of couple. And Gojo saw it.

“C’mere.”

He was tossing you a life line. You did as you were told and the kiss he pressed against your lips was lingering and lazy, the smack when you parted wet and loud. Gojo all but collapsed back unto the loveseat and lifted his phone from where he set it flat on his chest.

Candy Crush. Typical. You smiled and headed back down the hall.

“Good night!” He called after your departing foot steps, a smile threatening to spread back over your lips.

Lights out, covers tucked in, you slept harder than you had in years.

Which was why later, when the sun was just barely beginning to paint the night sky in rosy shades of dawn, she didn’t hear her door click open. The soft bare footsteps, the thud of a body coming to sit beside her futon.

Gojo tucked the white strands of her hair behind her ear with the barest touch. Crossing his legs and leaning forward, listening to hear breathe, watching the tiny movements of her muscles in sleep. Something in his chest rumbled— the quiet trill of a cat waking from a nap. The roll of thunder. The flutter of wings.

What is it that you want?

He left the room just before she woke.

Chapter Text

The first real awareness that struck you that morning was that your back hurt, aching low on your hips in a way that wasn’t near as bad as it should have. Perks of a reversal technique, you supposed, rolling over and stretching your arms up above your head until your spine shifted and popped, letting tension pull through your limbs until you release it with a heavy sigh.

You expected to feel apathy at best, regret at worse-— but instead you felt… good. Sated and content that while everything had changed, nothing had changed . Mutual attraction? Affirmed. It didn’t have to mean anything outside that, even if your tummy gave a tiny flutter at the idea he was still here . Just a few steps away.

You suddenly felt very awake. The sun wasn’t bright today, lighting up your room in only occasional rays. Your phone chimed, a missed call. You fumbled for it, eyes bleary as you checked the time—11:23 a.m.. Yikes, talk about a late start.

The missed call? Was from your mother.

Scooting up to lean against your pillows you dialed back, waiting for the familiar sound of her voice.

“Good morning, child-o-mine, pride of my life, destroyer of my youth.” she said, voice edged up. Teasing, but also not , “Anything you’d like to tell your mother, giver of your life? Who you love so dearly? Perhaps—oh I don’t know— some life-changing event?”

Oh boy.

There was no hesitation in your moments as you walked down the hall, eyes feeling heavy and a new wave of tiredness already making you want to crawl back into bed.

Gojo was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, a scattering of styrofoam containers around him. Your mood lifted just slightly as he quickly clicked off his phone screen and turned to look at you.

“You have to meet my parents. Are those pancakes?” you said, words falling into one another as you crossed across the room and came to sit with a huff at the end of the low table. You fished a container out of a plastic bag, popping it open. Strawberry shortcake pancakes to be exact and a shit load of bacon. You were already smearing the whipped cream and icing around with your fork, spearing up strawberries with focused intent.

“Wow— was that good huh?”

You had already shoved an alarming mouthful of pancake into your mouth, cocking an eyebrow at him. Was he making fun of your lack of manners? Oh. No. He was making a joke. Which you ignored, no matter how funny it was in hindsight.

“The main family contacted them and asked if they had given their consent to our marriage which of course they hadn’t because they didn’t even know I was engaged.”

“You in trouble?” Gojo chuckled, peering at you from over his sunglasses.

“Oh yeah. Big time.” you said, trying to focus on decimating your food instead of the panic that was growing steadily in your chest. There was no way they were going to believe you were marrying him. Absolutely none. Your mom would take one look at him, size him up and spray him with a water bottle like a bad cat. No. Out.

“You can’t tell them the truth.”

“I know .” you groaned. How were you going to do this? This was too close, too familiar. So far you had been able to keep a clear divide between your life and his. Yeah, things sometimes blended together when it came to your mutual status as sorcerers and there was the main family, but you had never felt particularly a part of that in the first place.

“I guess it could always be an excuse for me to bring the cash to replace that statue my uncle keeps harassing me about.”

He didn’t know.

“My parents don’t live on Gojo property anymore... they moved back to Hyōgo after-- well. You know.”

Outside of the main compound were many other smaller family homes, owned by the Gojo family proper and their extended relatives. For only one year, fourteen to fifteen, you and your parents had lived in such a house… but after certain events they had been more than happy to move on. You’d been given as much of a normal school life as they could provide before at sixteen you started at Jujutsu Tech in Kyoto.

Before that, the majority of your life you had grown up in Tamba-Sasayama, a modest castle attraction an hour outside of Kyoto. It was a city sure, but also rurally located. Nothing like the scope of Kyoto or Tokyo. It was “home”, but not the way Kyoto was. You didn’t have the same feeling of belonging, of understanding back in Sasayama. A community where you and your parents had been the only sorcerers aside from a couple of people who could at minimum see curses.

“Ya know… our agreement doesn’t actually stipulate to me having to go anywhere you want.” Gojo said and judging by the smile lifting at the corner of his mouth, he had a fresh new torment prepared.

But this was your parents, and pride took a backseat in those matters for you. Your lip was already pressed out in the startings of a pout. Ready and waiting for him to request something utterly devious— a bit excited at the prospect too. Gojo reached out, set his hand on the side of your face, thumb tracing over your mouth, slipping passed.

He tasted like icing, having wiped a smudge of it from your mouth. He withdrew his hand, licked invisible remnants off the pad of his thumb and hummed in feigned thoughtfulness.

“I suppose I could make an exception just this once. If you say, ‘pretty please’.”

“There will be no living with you now, will there?” she deadpanned and Gojo leaned back against the front of the sofa behind him.

“About that… not to be ungrateful, because I am wholly grateful to whatever slip of madness made whatever-the-fuck that was last night happen but like— who are you?”

You shrugged. It had been, especially when you were at the drug store buying the condoms you planned to have him fuck you in, like you were flicked on auto-pilot. Kissing him had set it off. Had confirmed to you that while he taunted you, there was truth in his words. That it wasn’t just a game to fluster you and he actually was attracted to you. Which, in all honesty, had flattered your ego to the point that all you could think was— yeah. Yeah. Why not? Like he said, you were the last person who’d develop feelings for him, why not get more of a benefit yourself?

You’d expected the quiet image of your past-self to be aghast, ashamed— but that was all the things the elders had always wanted you to feel, wasn’t it? So she didn’t. She approved, so you approved and allowed yourself to accept the fact that the Six Eyes, god among men? Wanted you. And it helped that it seemed nowadays, everyone else wanted you away from him. Principal Yoshinobu’s words were not forgotten and you felt a sick satisfaction in having utterly disregarded them in the worst possible way.

And that kind of vanity was a hell of a drug. It had you half sighing dreamily right there over breakfast, a tiny flame stoking forth in your tummy at the way your expression registered in Gojo’s eyes and made them light up with interest.

“You mean you don't know?" you cooed, leaning in, "I’m the strongest .”

And now they were bursting, burning. Blue fire opals. That was the stone that should have been set in your ring— blue fire opals. He leaned in, letting his glasses slide down a fraction.

“How do ya figure?”

“Took the great Gojo Satoru out with one shot for the rest of the night, didn’t I?”

And just like the night before, your words set off a spark in him and he was kissing you— crushing against you, pressing you down into the wooden floor of the living room with a ragged groan. Half exasperated, half something else entirely.

Where had those condoms gotten to? You had a feeling you were going to need them soon with the way his hands were curling under your shirt, pushing it up over your waist so he could run his palms unhindered over your bare skin. You hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, still only in an over-sized tee and your panties— practically naked, almost naked. You wanted him naked too, your hands finding the edge of his shirt and shoving underneath, touching him the way he was touching you— his hands cupping your breasts, your palm pressed against the base of his spin.

His phone rang. A sharp, sobering sound in the silence of panting breaths and the wet smack of kisses. He hesitated, recognized the ringtone.

“Ignore it.” you ordered, 

The phone rang for the second time, buzzing and blaring and obnoxious . Gojo sighed, collapsed down, his face buried in your neck. 

“... is it important?” you breathed, and he finally sat up to pull the phone from his pocket, snorting when he saw the caller ID. He turned it towards you with a grin to show the name— Jackass 1.0.

“Only two people with that ringtone...you wanna answer? His head will probably explode—oh. Oh, oh. Yeah. You answer. I will literally give you whatever you want if you answer—”

Too late. His smile flinched, realizing with a groan he had conceded, without meaning to. You grinned brightly, triumphant.

“Ohhhh, you are so meeting my parents now, bitch.”

And before he could rescind the offer you swiped the phone from his hand, laid back and answered, voice bright and cheerful, “Gojo residence!”

He leaned down and buried his face into your throat again, his laughing tickling against your skin as much as his hair under your chin. 

“... excuse me. I was under the false presumption that should I call Satoru’s phone, I would be speaking to Satoru.”

If you weren’t riding the high of nearly getting your round two that morning, the sound of his uncle’s voice might have been enough to actually faze you. Instead, you cheerfully replied.

“My apologies, Gojo-sama—”

“Why don’t you ever call me that?” Gojo whispered, and you gave him a light swat on his back which he awarded by grumbling and setting his teeth on your neck. Not biting, just holding there, poised and warning.

“—he is in the shower. Would you like me to take a message?”

“That is what a voicemail system is for, not the would-be-bride of the future head of the Gojo family. I would prefer next time you simply allow my call to ring through rather than waste my time with pointless conversation.”

Unable to voice your confusion or objections, Gojo took this opportunity to slide down the length of your torso, lift your t-shirt and stick his head under it. You baulked, biting your tongue as you swatted him harder . In retaliation? He bit your nipple. A gasp shuddered from you, nearly breaking out louder before you stuffed it back down your throat. Did Gojo-sama hear it? The other side of the line was silent.

“A-ah, I— I will do that. My apologies.”

He said your name— not your surname, but your first name, firm and commanding. Underneath your shirt, Gojo was rolling your nipple against his tongue, tugging. Sucking. A sharp stab when straight to your groin and spread liquid warmth through your limbs.

“The wife of the head of the family must not allow herself to be so easily scolded. It is not my intent to upset you, but to prepare you for the enormity of the task Satoru has placed on your head.”

You had never been so grateful to have your tone mistaken for tearful and reproached in your life, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to wiggle out from underneath Gojo as quietly as possible. 

His thighs pressed down against your legs, held you down. A muffled sound of protest coming from around his lips, which were still latched to your sensitive skin. You arched your back, bit your lip and shuddered , trying to find an alternative release to letting the cry in your throat out. Gojo moaned approvingly, low and growl-like.

“Y...yes. I couldn’t agree more. I will have him call you d-directly.” 

Oh please, oh if there was a god up there, please let him hang up.

“See that he does. Good day.”

You hit the red hang-up button and tossed the phone with a clatter unto the coffee table, reaching both hands beneath your shirt to fist them in Gojo’s hair and drag him out from under the fabric like a bad cat.

His sunglasses caught on your shirt hem, ripped off his face.

“ Ah — ow ow ow!” 

Despite his protests, the expression he wore was far too pleased. 

“I would like to finish my breakfast, move please.” you said, voice cheerful but with that slight edge that said one wrong move would be his last. Gojo huffed, rested his chin on your belly and gazed up at you with those beautiful, blue eyes… did this work on other women? It must, because he looked pretty convinced you were going to give into it.

“Breakfast. Move.”

“Maybe I want you for breakfast.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss into your stomach.

“Consider yourself weaned.”

Even you laughed at that one, trying to calm the rushing in your blood as Gojo did sit up off of you and plop, with a groan back in his spot.

“Gotta savor it anyway, don’t I? Only have two whole condoms left…”

“I can buy more, stupid.” you said, spearing up a bite of pancake and avoiding your impulse to look and see if you could make out the line of an erection against his sweatpants. What could you say? It was nice to be appreciated.

“Nah, next one is on me. When we’ve finished the one we got.” Gojo extended his hand, pointing down at his sunglasses discarded near your lap when you gave him a confused look.

You handed them over and he returned them to his face.

“Besides, we gotta get on the road! Gotta meet the in-laws, yeah?”

The air was crisp, tart as a golden red apple and the smell of something very similar wafting through the open car windows from the street. Gojo had insisted they stop, a loaf of warm, flakey apple ring bread tucked inside a white box that he carried with near reverence.

The man was serious about his sweets, if nothing else. You were surprised he didn’t break it open as soon as you were back in the car, but it sat, untouched and releasing a heavenly aroma between you both.

You’d hoped your mother would refuse the sudden visit, but if anything, she was more hospitable than usual on the phone. You didn’t trust it. This smelled of a trap— the kinda trap she sprung on your middle school boyfriend that had you single until your senior year. You chattered incessantly to try and keep yourself calm, your chest feeling as if someone had scooped out your insides and replaced you with rubber bouncy balls. 

“So. Don’t be— well, don’t be as rude as you usually are. Okay? Don’t do anything that will make my father feel compelled to try and fight you for my honor and don’t let my mom get you roped into an innocuous conversation. Nothing is innocuous with that woman. And don’t—”

When had the car rolled to a stop? The familiar house stood as it always did with its traditional peaked, shingled roof and plain beige and white walls. Your tongue dried, the top of your mouth tingling and aching down your throat.

Your door opened and instead of the driver, it was Gojo standing there patiently, holding out his hand. You stared at his palm, up to his sunglass covered eyes, down again and then narrowed your own.

“... you’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah.” Gojo grinned, “Pass me the box will ya?”

You could repress your pout fast enough, having thought his intent was to hold your hand. What kind of thought even was that? Had he ever held your hand once in all the times you’d even been out on dates? You picked up the warm box and passed it to him as you slid out of the car.

He tucked it under his arm and then, as naturally as if he had done it every day of his life, he took your hand in his. You gripped hard, startled by the sudden contact.

“This is the part where a good guy says something nice, yeah? Like, ‘don’t worry, I’ll behave’. Right?”

A pinprick of hope rose up in your chest and died just as quickly as he gave you a short wink from over his glasses.

“Too bad one isn’t here.”

One day, one day, you would not react the way he expected, heat spreading down your neck, eyes widening in tongue-tied outrage. And yet, your hand was still in his and you felt no inclination what-so-ever to let it go.

“I told them to treat you like anyone else. Not like a Gojo and definitely not like the Six Eyes.” you said sharply, “So don’t expect a grand reception.”

Gojo just hummed an affirmative, pulling you alongside him until you matched his stride and headed up to the front door. You didn’t even need to knock, the door already opening at your approach, a woman very much how you imagined you’d look in twenty or thirty years waiting there. The white line in her own hair was wider than your own, brighter through age and the presence of a few lines of grey.

All at once, all your anxiety, all your worries vanished, fading into the warm smile your mother gave you.

“Welcome home.”

You dropped Gojo’s hand only to hurry forward and wrap her in a hug, startling her only for a moment. Memories of the water, of the cursed spirits from the onsen came to the forefront of your thoughts and you did your best to hold them back down. You’d almost died, hadn’t you? And you would have never gotten to do this again. That thought alone gave everything a newness to it, a brightness that had faded in the comings and goings of your own life, far removed from this quiet place. You drew back, hoping no one noticed the sheen in your eyes.

“Mom, this—” you stopped. How were you supposed to introduce him? She already knew who he was! Did you call him Satoru? Memories of the last time his name left your lips surfaced with the very thought, only making your words stumble further as you quickly blurted out.

“— this is Gojo Satoru.”

“Satoru is fine.” he added cheerfully, offering your mother his hand which she took, a sly look slipping into her expression. Shrewd. Examining. Something about it seemed to delight Gojo, who only smiled brighter.

“We’ve actually met before, though you were probably too young to remember it. Come on in— did you bring a gift? You didn’t need to!”

Gojo happily presented the box, mother taking it with a smile that was approving, but little else. 

“I made some tea. Your father will be home shortly, but for now I thought I’d amuse you both with a little trip down memory lane.”

She disappeared into the house, leaving you and Gojo to follow after. A pair of guest slippers was set out for him, your own, to your sudden embarrassment, were from when you were in high school… and were fluffy and pink with little Cinnamoroll characters from Hello Kitty embroidered on the top.

Refusing to stop to even acknowledge it, you followed your mother across the tatami mats into the living room and all but cooed your delight. The kotatsu was out, a pot of tea set on top and a few photo albums you didn’t recognize stacked next to the cups.

“I have a couple of snacks prepared, but we’ll have the bread now with our tea if you’d like!”

“Yes please.” Gojo said, earning a sharp look from you. Eating his own gift? Of course he would. Your mom disappeared into the kitchen and you tucked beneath the soft, dark green blanket of the kotatsu, the warmth and weight enough to make you eager for a nap.

Gojo slid in alongside you, a position you recognized the dangers of the moment he slid his hand beneath the blanket and brushed his palm up and down the length of your thigh in a sudden unprompted caress. His palm cupped around your knee and stayed there, entirely innocent and entirely untrustworthy.

When your mom came back in, his hand fell away. She had cut the bread up onto a plate, setting it down on the table before tucking in and pouring cups of tea and chatting with you about nothing— her words hazy and unable to take your hyper focus off of the man next to you.

Why were you so worried about him? What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Did he think your parent’s home was quaint and simple? Was he wishing he hadn’t come? 

The thoughts were interrupted as your mom flipped open one of the photo albums and pushed it in front of you both. Gojo made a sound, shocked and sudden in the back of his throat. Half a laugh, half a scoff. You had never seen him react like that before, the tips of his ears darkening.

The picture was of a boy and a girl, three or four years old, dressed in summer yukatas. The girl, her hair tied back so only the strands of white framing her face were free, was very gently scooping ice cream from her own tiny bowl into the boy's nearly empty cone. The evidence that it had been dropped dripping in a green line down his arm and splattered on the ground. Bright tears shone on his round cheeks, shimmering even in the photo in the impossible blue of his eyes, his lip pressed in a pout.

The girl in the photo was you and the boy was Gojo.

You looked up at your mother, her smug smile hidden behind the brim of her cup as she watched Gojo’s expression shrewdly.

“So as you can see, introductions are hardly necessary. I've known you all your life, haven't I?”

“W-wh… when was this even?!”

“Summer, ‘93. They still have fireworks for the children at the Gojo compound don’t they? We took you every year until you were about six. And in that particular year we got many fine gems like this one.”

Gojo looked at her over his glasses, trying to smirk instead of smile, no doubt to hide the bashfulness that was unfamiliar and uncommon to his lips.

“I see where your daughter gets it now.” he said slowly, an understanding seeming to pass between your mother and him that left you reeling.

Gojo, to his credit, reached out and flipped the page. Sure enough, there were several more photos of that night. Mostly of you, grinning with a mouthful of watermelon, juice and seeds all over your face. A snapshot of all the children playing with sparklers, Gojo an obvious blur of movement along with the others. Another page, another photo of all of the kids, tucked together tight like sardines on a blanket spread out on the lawn, lit with the burst of the fireworks above. 

“He was enamored with you all evening. Running around like a heathen, unchecked and undisciplined until he dropped his ice cream and you were sweet enough to give him your own.”

“I… don’t remember.” Gojo mumbled, sipping his own tea. He hadn’t touched the sweet bread laid out in front of him. Another first.

“Me either.” you added in a silent, sudden show of solidarity.

You had to flip the next page, taken that same weekend judging by the people present. A few shots of your parents and other relatives who were close friends of theirs from the other minor families. And then a slew of shots of you and a few cousins and again, one white-haired boy who stood out brightly among the others. 

The next few photos nearly brought out a shocked sound of your own. It was of the two of you in the garden pond together, catching goldfish with your tiny bare hands and holding them up with matching, mischievous grins for the camera. 

“Ah, yes. He chased you with a cicada in his hand after these were taken and you swore to have your revenge. In case you forgot.” your mother added.

“Good to know.” you elbowed him pointedly in the ribs, the ill-ease on your face matching his own, which Gojo seemed to still have no idea how to reconcile. Every smart-ass remark, every joke? Gone. Vanished. He looked positively burned out, you swore you almost saw smoke coming from his head as even reversal couldn’t keep him from breaking at the very idea he was once cute and silly, chasing you around a paddling pool like a puppy in love.

“Ruthless old woman…” Gojo muttered, the insult glancing off your mother as if she too had an Infinity. 

“Shall we look at the next one?”

Gojo groaned as you piped up an unexpected affirmative.

The next album was another family event, sometime during the winter. You looked to be about twelve and this was a time you remembered. It was almost Christmas and all the lesser family kids and their parents had gone to the beach to run through the freezing waves and play in the cold sand. You were a little less bright, a little more moody. Wearing mostly black, including the smudged eyeliner around your lids.

What teenage girl didn’t go through a punk stage at some point? Especially one as terminally misunderstood as you, a future sorcerer going to a normal school full of normal people. Once upon a time, the family get-togethers were something you cherished if only to be around kids like yourself who knew of the dark, secret world between the thin layers of reality.

“And there is Gojo again and his little friend. He had a horrible cold that Christmas.”

What?

You looked closer at the figure your mother pointed to. A boy, clad in clothes as dark as your own, a beanie hiding all his hair, sunglasses obscuring his eyes and a black facemask to boot. You would have had no idea it was Gojo. Not now, not then.

Your memory was faded, but you remembered the unfamiliar boy following behind the gaggle of kids. Quiet, unamused and surly. It was painfully obvious now it could have been no one else, because it was none other than Suguru Geto at his side. That was right— Gojo had started at Jujutsu Tech almost immediately, having spent no time in regular schools. It was probably the same with Suguru. 

The boys kept to themselves in almost every photo, but in one they had been caught, freeze frame with Gojo kicking water at a laughing Suguru, wading out in the frigid waves.

“I think that was the last time you ever spent a holiday with the rest of the kids, Satoru.” 

His first name sounded so easy and casual when your mother said it, “In fact, I don’t remember seeing you at the main house much at all after then… except once more.”

Oh. Right.

Your mom took the album and flipped through until she settled on one page. You recognized the kimono immediately with its blue patterns and the Gojo family symbol emblazoned next to your own lesser clan symbol on the sleeve. You were not smiling, your eyes darkened and sharp. The twist on your lips was half pain, half anger, half utter and evident shame . You had been forced to pose for this photo, the night you met Gojo as a potential betrothed. The once promised child, heralded as a potential Six Eyes… now nothing.

If looks could kill, the photo should have been classified as a deadly weapon. You hesitantly turned to look at Gojo and saw the flush had left his face and he was staring, with silent intent at the image. He wasn’t smiling. His mouth even twitched slightly in a frown.

“And so, I must ask my daughter’s forgiveness for my bluntness…” your mother reached over and tapped on the photo, “... but how exactly do you expect me to approve of her marrying the man who put this look on her face?”

“ Mom —”

“You dismissed her. Demeaned her on what was, I still believe, the worst day of her young life.”

You wanted to vanish. Disappear.

No. No, no! Don’t tell him!  

Don’t tell him how her heart had bled, had nearly rend in two in her hatred and anger towards him. She was going to ruin it, she was going to make him think—

“Mom, what has gotten into you—”

It was like a repeat of the main family visit, except now it was your nearest kin tearing Gojo apart— and unlike you? He was staying silent, eyes half lidded, still fixed on the photograph. You couldn’t even tell if he was angry or upset— his face was completely unreadable. He pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, hid his eyes from view.

“And now you come here and play the role of her lover? Do you think all us mere mortals are truly such fools?”

“I’m not playing at anything.” Gojo said abruptly, the cut in his tone making your spine stiffen.

“... I hold that day as one of the worst in my own life.” Gojo began, voice even and cool despite the words he spoke, “I was fifteen. I had a contemptuous relationship at best with the people who arranged that evening, which was also set up against my will.”

Your mother listened quietly, meeting his shrouded eyes with a steadiness you had not even mastered.

“I was a boy. I was angry. I am sure the things I said to her were not even the worst I spoke that night. I let out that anger on every girl they put in front of me, because I could not bring myself at the time to say them to my uncle. It doesn’t excuse it, but it is what it is.”

Gojo continued, pressing forward without hesitation, “I wanted an out. But they all took my words with a smile on their face, even if I made them cry. Every single one… except her.”

He reached out and tapped the photo, a mirror of your mother’s own action.

“A lesser family member. A nobody, with everything to lose… and she wouldn’t compromise. She didn’t care who I was, or what I could do to make her life miserable. She had the courage and the strength of conviction to tell me where to shove it and within a week after that I had found my own. I moved out of the family estate to the Jujutsu Tech dorms full time.”

You could barely breathe, chest constricting with every word. Was that… was that really how he felt about that night? He had said once he never thought of you again after that day, but now here, you began to wonder which was the lie. The words he spoke now, weaving a tale perhaps to sate your mother’s objections—or what he spoke then?

“I did dismiss her. I did demean her, and I thought about her every day after that.” Gojo sighed, “So… I have to ask for your approval. Because it has to be her. You have the proof all ready here in these pictures. It was always going to be her, wasn’t it?”

The seconds passed, uninhibited by further speech as the words already spoken settled. Your mom smiled, refilled Gojo’s own cup and then her own. Further discussion was ended, without a moment to spare, by the opening of the front door and the familiar call of your father’s voice. You were up, half scrambling to go greet him if only to get out of the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

You thought for just a split second you heard your mother say, voice low, “Oh… you’re good .”

But you tried your best to ignore it.

Your father and Gojo got along swimmingly . Which was either a direct side effect of your mother’s icy reception or because your father in general was a laidback and good-natured sort. He laughed open and often, his stories of the summer firework festival much kinder and humorous rather than vaguely accusing. 

He kept trying to get Gojo to drink with him, with Gojo finally relenting, though you did not see him drink so much as wet his lips and then set the glass back down.

It was as if the initial greeting between your mother and him had never happened. His language towards her was more polite, reserved. The kind of language he used with his students or other people he didn’t want to frighten off with his brashness. Whether it was from begrudging respect or caution, you couldn’t say. You were just grateful that the evening and dinner passed uneventfully until the sky darkened completely and the first yawns broke from your father.

“Ah! We have a guest room made up for you, Satoru.” your father also used his first name so casually . You had told them not to treat him differently, but perhaps your concern was misplaced.

“And we aired out yours too, sweetheart. I dusted a bit too, but everything should be where it belongs.”

You could not miss the curious way Gojo’s eyebrow ticked up at the mention of your room.

“So I guess it is safe to say co-sleeping with my beautiful future-bride is impossible? How sad…”

You kicked him under the kotatsu, earning a dramatic whine.

“You aren’t married yet, young man. Save it for the honeymoon.” your father scolded with a laugh and you had to patently ignore the sideways glance Gojo gave you as if to silently relay. Too late.

“I’m dying to see it though. Is it the same as when she was in high school?” Gojo pressed, eyeing you in a way that was wholly lacking in innocence, “You still have your old uniform?”

“Let’s go take a look!” you said suddenly, standing. You were going to kill him.

“A-h, uh! Leave the door open! Three inches at least, young lady!” your father announced, clearly pleased to finally get to say such a thing.

You all but shoved Gojo’s tall form up the narrow steps, ignoring the way he laughed and leaned back into you. For someone who was so eager a second ago, he was deftly resisting now.

“You mad?”

“Get. Up. The. Stairs.” you hissed.

“Alright, alright…so eager already...” he hummed and you wondered if those few faked sips had been enough to make him tipsy or if he was just finally comfortable enough to become insufferable again. Your bedroom, true to word, looked like it did when you were young. Your bed was a twin, western style, sat up on a frame and with a duvet in a shade of dark royal purple. Various band posters splattered the walls, a few horror films that were popular when you were in high school and a couple framed awards and accolades from your days there as well. You were by no means the class president, but you had done well enough. Captain of the girl’s kendo team your last two years and everything.

Gojo perused your room with all the informal curiosity of a cat. Had it always been so small? Even with the door not shut completely the air seemed to cave in on you. Snug, close. Intimate.

Your old clothes, what ones remained here, were hung up in the closet. The sliding door was open. Gojo ran his fingertips over the fabric, easily locating the old navy skirt and blazer that made up your high school uniform. Even the tie was still slung over the shoulder, red as blood.

“You wore a knee-length, huh? I half expected to find an ankle length with how fearsome you were back then. You run around with a wooden sword and ride a motorcycle?”

Naturally, he found your practice sword tucked in behind your kendo uniform, wholly too pleased at the discovery. His eyes lit up, mischievous and dark when he slid your old, navy one-piece swimsuit from gym class out.

“We’re taking this back with u—”

“Denied .”

“Spoil sport.”

Instead of returning it to the closet, he tossed it over your desk chair. A sure fire sign that the discussion of taking it with him was still ongoing in his mind. He sat on the edge of your bed, noting with a soft laugh the stuffed animals tucked against the pillow. He picked up the soft Cinnamoroll one, tucking it under his crossed arms as he swung his legs up and lay on your bed. He was too tall, making him look even more like he wholly occupied the entire space. The resemblance of his white hair and blue eyes to the soft plushie was unmistakable and entirely unintentional.

“Your mom is something else.”

He’d opened the door to your next words for all you cared.

“Why did you say all that?” you hissed, “You— You could have said anything. Or at least like, less! God, you laid it on so thick, she obviously knows you’re lying.”

His eyes peered up at you from over the Cinnamoroll’s head, the lower half of his face hidden from view. Having him here— it was weird. If someone had told you as a young girl that one day Gojo Satoru would invade your safe haven, lay on your bed, touch all your things… why was it so goddamn hot in here?

You walked across the room and forced a window open, the cool October breeze filtering in.

“The best lies incorporate truth, ya know.” Gojo said and you resisted turning towards his voice.

“I did leave the main house later that same week. I did act like a shit because I was young and pissed and because I hadn’t gotten it in me to completely reject all their mindless, stupid authority.”

A breath. A beat. As if your heart was holding one of its own. You should have never slept with him. You should have kept that line firm and uncrossed. Now everything was messy and loud and painful . No. No, not painful. Aching .

“... and I did think about you. Often. It was annoying.”

You were going to die right there on the spot.

“But! The rest? Alllllll lies.” he said, sing-song and sweet, hushing his voice as if he even worried someone might overhear, “C’mon. That was the whole point of coming down here, wasn’t it? And besides, I think we won’t have to worry about your mom interfering. She talks big game, but I think she bought it.”

Why not? You almost had.

The cool air slid through your lungs and you let the tension go with a low breath. It was a relief in a way. You wouldn’t have known how to unpack all that if it had been true. It was just a weird night, a rough charade. You’d be fine in the morning and once you got Gojo out of this place, out of these memories.

“... do I really gotta sleep in the guest room? What if that harpy breaks in and sucks out my soul in the night?”

“That harpy is my mother, you dick. And she won’t suck your soul out... she’ll drain all the blood from your body first.”

Gojo properly laughed at that, throwing Cinnamoroll back onto the bed and sitting up with a huff.

“Woulda been fun though. You changin’ out of your uniform after a long day of classes… me sneakin’ in the window... parents out of town. No one to know…”

“These the kinda annoying thoughts you were having about me back when we were in high school?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I mean— yeah.” Gojo said and despite yourself, you knew he was being honest.

“You are, and I repeat, disgusting . Hang my swimsuit back up.”

“And it turns you on,” He grinned, “So what’s that make you ?”

You wondered the same thing, but instead you said, “An idiot. Now, hang my swimsuit back up.”

Chapter Text

Elsewhere, That Same Night

Many spiders, but not all, build webs…. and those that do use a variety of methods to capture their prey. Spiral orbs, tangle webs, funnel webs, tubular webs… a net-casting spider carefully weaves their silks and attaches it to their front legs. Hanging above, they wait, lurking and silent , for the arrival of its prey.

Such a shame.

The prey was young, smelling of sweat and alcohol and of expensive, sour cologne. Something heralded as luxurious, as desirable, should not set so foul in her senses. Within her chest, the tiny stirrings off her children made her sigh, whispering within her thoughts to them.

Soon, dears, soon.

The man stumbled closer. Closer. Stepping beneath where she was poised, ready and waiting. When she struck, his cry was hardly a whisper, body paralyzed by the strike of her technique, rendering him limp, but conscious as she coiled him up in her web. Wrapping and wrapping until a human form was not even visible in the mass of grey silk.

The Spider ascended, gathering the prey up, feeling her children rattle and seethe, desperate for their meal of cursed energy. This was no random act, but of design. Her children received sustenance and she received payment for their kill. A simple enough arrangement.

“How are the kids?” Came the voice of a man the Spider knew well, turning with a soft smile towards it and then back to her prey. She opened her mouth and let her children pour forth, attaching to the prey and beginning their feast upon his energy. She was always at her most vulnerable then, her children, the source of her web and techniques, exiting her in order to recharge their powers.

But he was here and so she was safe. His arms wrapped around her, held her in his distant, cold embrace. It was the best he could offer.

“We have a new job…” he murmured into her hair, ashen and grey as storm clouds, “A girl from the Gojo clan. Limitless, they say.”

“You’ve always wanted to test yourself against one.” She whispered, voice almost hoarse in its softness.

“You wanna come with?”

Did she have a choice?

“Will we be killing the prey?”

“Nah. Just a beat down job. Wanna know the best part?” He kissed her ear with his words, “The Six Eyes will be there.”

The Spider shivered, unable to contain the spark of fear the prospect welled into her... but not him. Her love had always been half mad. Constantly chasing that high that alluded him as a result of his own curse. Looking for purpose, for pleasure in all the wrong places. Her children left the corpse of the prey drained, blackened, webs falling from its emaciated body as they crawled up her arm and reentered her. She turned to look into the man’s empty eyes, blue, yet somehow dull, faded. As if he might vanish entirely with a blink.

“When do we start?”

Sleep was illusive. It was your bed but it wasn’t your bed. Time had made that change when you weren’t paying attention, as time often did. Was this mattress always so stiff? You turned, adjusted for the tenth time and found again, you were not even the least bit drowsy. You checked your phone, remembering the text you had left on read from Utahime sometime during the evening. Asking if you had been in contact with Principal Yoshinobu and how he had said something about expecting your return in the next few days.

Presumptuous old man…

No sense in replying now. It was nearly 2am, the house quiet except for the occasional breeze outside your window. Quietly, carefully, you slid on your slippers and opened your bedroom door. Your room and the bathroom were the only things upstairs, your parents room on the ground floor on the opposite end of the kitchen, living room and the storage room that had been cleaned out and converted into an extra bedroom for the visit.

Your pajama bottoms made tiny whooshing sounds across the wood floor as you dodged the steps that squeaked, using your Infinity to all but float across them. Your parents door was closed, the house quiet, lit only from the outside by the streetlamp that flooded into the front rooms.

The guest room was even dark, your eyes adjusting to the grey-cast world of vague dim shapes. You gently scratched at the paper of the sliding door, not wanting to risk a knock.

“… Gojo?” You whispered, hoping your voice didn’t betray any of the anticipation you felt. There was however, no reply.

“Gojo? You awake?”

Nothing? Ah. You smiled faintly to yourself and whispered again, softer than before, “…Satoru.”

Gently, as to not make a squeak in the frame, the door slid open. He was lit from the back by faint streetlights that did little to illuminate the room, leaving him featureless, but there. Close enough that you could hear him breathe, but could not make out more than the curve of his shoulder or the white outline of his hair.

It was odd, how when you breathed in you felt drawn in towards him— as if his lungs were fixed by a string to your own, tugging you nearer with each of your shared breaths. You couldn’t see his eyes, his amusement or lack there of, but you could smell his cologne, his soap… the scents that had become more familiar of late than your own adolescent room.

He didn’t speak, but neither did you.

You stepped forward, pressing your hand to his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his skin warm beneath your palm. Pushing him back. He followed your lead and in a moment you were in the room, sliding the door behind you. And then you were curling your fingers into the base of his neck, your lips pressing into his— meeting you halfway.

The dark was so emboldening, a calm replacing where you should have been nervous. Worried about your parents only down the hall. About the things he had said that night, the things he hadn’t. Instead, you were breaking from him only to tug off your tank-top and slip out of your pjs, naked in the darkness with him, feeling his hands caressing over the curve of your bottom, gripping hard and pressing you up against him.

You felt for the futon with your feet, remembering that even in the dark, Gojo’s eyes could still see— perfect and clear. You wondered what it looked like in his world. Was it as if it were constant day? Or perhaps it was like any human’s night vision, only more enhanced, less dim. Either way, you knew he saw you come to kneel down on the futon, extending your hand into the empty void, fingers wrapping around his when you found him in the dark.

He knelt down, moved to settle above you, which you halted, raising up unto your own knees and straddling his lap. He understood, your hands sliding through his hair, curling in the strands and tugging until you could tell by touch alone that he had lifted his chin and bared his throat to you.

You bit him. Kissed him. Ran your tongue over the long muscle of his neck, up to the shell of his ear, tasting the salt of his skin and sucking a bruise in the same spot where he once had done to you. The silence was so fragile— a word, a noise, and the moment would shatter. So you swallowed up his kisses, felt his groan vibrate against your tongue as you encouraged him to lift his hips and let you push his pants down low enough you could feel his erection, warm and hard against your thigh.

You kissed Gojo senselessly, endlessly, not wanting to breathe. Not wanting to stop. You were still sore from before, wincing faintly as you rose your hips, guided him between your legs and slowly seated yourself down on him.

A tiny sharp intake of breath. The press of his forehead against your own. Why did you fit so well? Why did it feel less as if you had to make space for him within you and more as if he simply belonged there? Slotted against you like a puzzle piece.

His skin was hotter, softer this way. Bare within the warm wetness of you. He’d need to be careful, but you trusted him with this. He knew his own body… he would know how far he could go.

You rocked your hips, his hands spreading out across your lower back, holding you, supporting you as you leaned into them and let yourself rise and fall. Panted breaths, the soft, wet glide of your skin over his, quiet barely there sounds that only heightened the intimacy rather than disrupting it. It was all too easy to push him back, the futon shifting as he lay beneath you. One of his hands ran up and down the curve of your waist, the other laced in your own. You pushed it down above his head, heard a soft, surprised grunt that he quickly silenced.

You angled your hips just right, and rolled into each slow thrust, pulling him in, opening yourself to him. This wasn’t like the night before, this wasn’t wild and desperate, words exchanged like barbs— like swords.

His pelvis pushed against your core at this angle, pressing into your clit, letting you rub down against him with a quiet, shivering sigh. You shut your eyes against the darkness, felt Gojo beneath you with only your hands, your thighs and from within. Held tightly in the core of you as you took and took and took...

When you came, it did not so much erupt as it did slowly unravel. The pulses steady and slow yet tighter as you bore down around him. You rode it out, waited until the spasms were faint, pleasant pangs… only then did you let him bare you down into the futon, his movements quickened, his sole purpose now to make himself cum. You lifted your arms, wrapped them around his neck, let your nails bite down along his back, your legs around his waist. He shuddered, wrapped his arms beneath you, supported your hips up, firm against his own. Eventually his movements stuttered, jerky and raw. He pulled back, pulled out and you felt warmth spill across your stomach— heard the punctuated sharp breaths as he tried to keep his voice controlled as everything else fell apart around him.

And again there was only the sound of your breathing. Of his. Ragged. Fast.

Contentment settled over your limbs, slow and smooth as molasses. You could have fallen asleep right then and there… but that would mean a lot of unwanted explanations in the morning. Something soft ran over your stomach, between your thighs, wiping away the mess and leaving you at least a bit more clean. You reached out, hands sliding up his forearms and down again, your nails running dully over the curve of his muscle. Coaxing. Tempting.

It didn’t take much, his lips finding yours again, his body coming to lay at your side, curling you up tightly in his arms. You didn't want to go. You wanted to lay there, fall asleep wrapped up in his heat, in his smell… no games. No minced words. There was a dreamlike quality to the moment, as if, by the time the dawn rose, it would become faded. Barely there.

Without speaking, eventually you slid from his grasp, his hold only tightening for a moment before he let you go. You slid on your clothes the opposite way you had taken them off. Pajama bottoms, tank-top… slippers back on to silence your steps across the floor. Sneaking away back to your own bed, the fantasy he had wanted in a way, right?

A hand caught yours from below, his thumb tracing against the back of it. And just as suddenly, he let go. You reached out, found the faint stubbled curve of his jaw, let your fingertips caress down it… and then silently drew away and exited out the sliding door.

Your steps were heavier, slower and by the time your head hit the pillow in your own bed, you were finally, finally asleep.

Welp.

Shit.

That was the only thought that passed through Gojo’s head as he sat beneath the kotatsu, morning having come, bright and unforgiving.

He’d disposed of the evidence, stuffing his soiled t-shirt he'd used to clean you up down deep into his bag and resolving to just wash it when they got back home— fuck. No. When they got back to his apartment.

He should have worn a condom. But that would have required speaking, moving, and, ya know, giving a shit. God this was bad. So bad. It didn’t help he’d word vomited out all that extra stuff the day before, unable to stop the words once they started falling out.

It had been a good speech! It was just... w hat was true? What was a lie? It was getting all mixed up, senses overwhelmed by the smell of her hair, her clothes, the warmth of her body pressed against his in the dark. The very thought should have had him aroused and his thoughts crafting a million vile, disgusting scenarios... but instead he was simply content, skin pleasantly stinging where her nails had left scratches between his shoulder blades. He’d kept his reversal from healing them and he didn’t know why.

A door slid open and from the hall came the harpy woman, Gojo doing his best to hide his scowl. Her mother had gotten the best of him, a fact he was still feeling the ache of in his pride. She quietly passed him into the kitchen, not even a good morning spared his way as he listened to her movements— understood she was brewing coffee as opposed to tea.

She brought back two mugs, a dish of sugar and a carton of creamer.

Gojo dropped cube after cube into his own mug, dreading the moment the silence would break.

But it didn’t, not for a very long time. Her mother’s coffee nearly gone by the time she curled her hands around the mug and sighed.

“There is something important we have to discuss. I have decided to talk to you first, for her sake.”

Gojo looked up at her, noting how similar their face shape was, the curve of their mouths and their hair— white only in the two faint spots. He wondered if it was a result of the Gojo blood, like his, or something else, something only they shared as parent and child.

He rather it to be from what they shared instead. The tiny familiar stab of jealousy interrupting his thoughts for only the briefest moment before he brushed it away. Told himself he was being ridiculous. Jealous? Over her having other people in her life who loved her? A family that saw her first and foremost as their child, not an evolutionary boon to expand their power in the main household?

“When there was a possibility it was her who had been born Six Eyes… there were things we were told. Warned about.”

He knew where this was going without her having to explain further.

“Did you tell her about them?”

Her mother shook her head, eyes sharp, “No, I… I didn’t want to frighten her.”

She ran her thumb against the lip of her mug. Gojo swirled his finger in his own, churning up the sugar before sucking the digit clean.

“Are you going to tell her now?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

Tell her what? That the Six Eyes came with more side-effects than just overstimulation? That it could lead to him one day down the road absolutely losing his ever loving shit? A drooling, catatonic vegetable at best? An actual madman, raging and monstrous and unstoppable at worst? Even as he was now he could kill every human on earth before lunch and have room to make his way through most of the plants and animals before dessert. He could utterly decimate this entire planet, leaving it fit for only curses and sorcerers to inhabit, but his good sense and ‘moral integrity’ kept him from doing so.

Take that away and what was he? A bomb.

“There isn’t any guarantee that I’ll ever get like that. Besides, I’m taking steps to ensure there are sorcerers around that are powerful enough to execute me if I were to, so it isn’t her problem.”

“... you don’t think your execution would be a problem for her? The woman you are marrying?”

Stepped right into that one. This lady was clever. Yeah, he could see it. He’d seen it the other day too. That same look in her eyes that his own darling fiancee often had. Smart. Powerful. Disarming. Yet here she was, living like a village witch from a Ghibli film in the middle of nowhere.

There was a story there, one he was certain she’d never tell but probably had something to do with the man still asleep in the other room. Gojo had noted immediately the difference in their cursed energy levels, their power. Her father no doubt could see curses, but that was where his abilities ended.

“Do you care about her? And I don’t just mean her well-being. I mean her. Maybe that is too much to ask— do you even like her?”

“I like her just fine.”

“And the rest?”

Gojo drank his coffee and let the quiet sounds of the morning outside be his non-reply. 

“...you will take care of her, won’t you? Protect her? Keep her safe from—" she hesitated, "Just keep her safe.”

“If she needs me. Yeah.”

Your mother smiled at that, an acknowledgement of what they both knew. You hardly were the type who needed someone else to save you. The stairs creaked, a yawn announcing your arrival. Gojo turned towards it, a smile already on his lips, eager to see your face come around the hall. Your ey es were still sleepy, hair wavy and messy, pajama bottoms on inside out in a way that was both damning and way too fucking cute. She had gotten dressed again in the dark after all. At the sight of him, you perked just a little bit and smiled back at him.

“Is there coffee?”

“Kitchen.” Your mother said, drawing Gojo’s eyes back to her. She wasn’t looking at you though as she spoke, she was looking at him, something— knowing in her expression. Amused and yet… comforted.

“What?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, voice flattening. Her mother just smiled, shook her head and stood, going to seek her daughter out in the kitchen. Gojo felt the heat rising in his ears, wanting to rub it out, force it to cool before anyone could see.

Chapter Text

Walking around your old hometown with Gojo turned out to be a trip in itself. Stopped by every single person who recognized you or your parents, lulling behind in their loosely defined capacity as “chaperone”. Your father was enjoying the day off, stopping with your mother to chat with friends, the dialogue all the same.

“Yes! Engaged! You can imagine our surprise!”

Your family had always existed as kind of an oddity in town. It was widely known your mother was a member of some “wealthy” family. Rumors of how close up the line she was in the clan were mostly over-exaggerated. You’d even heard stories people weaved of how your grandparents disapproved of the union and the pair “ran off” together. Which wasn’t entirely the truth.

People quietly stared at Gojo, who stood out starkly. White hair, blue eyes. It wasn’t a common set of features to see for those outside of the sorcerer community. It didn’t help he was taller than most men in the whole town and exceptionally animated even this early in the morning.

“So I take it you slept well.” You said dryly as Gojo returned from inside the same small bakery where you had purchased the apple bread. Two cups of coffee and a bag that no doubt contained some sort of pastry tucked under his arm.

“Sleep is death-practice, which I don't need because I'm no punkass weakling.” He grinned, passing you one cup which you took a sip from only to sputter, face twisted in disgust.

“Ugh, good god— you’re gonna regret not getting more when you finally keel over from diabetes.”

You hurriedly pushed what was obviously his drink back into his hand and took the other. The flavor was definitely more mild, still sweetened, but also tasting like, ya know, coffee.

“Is that a no then on the chocolatey croissant?” He said, holding the little paper bag out and using the most obnoxiously over pronounced version of the word as possible.

“Give it.”

“Say ‘please’, baby.”

“Please, baby.” You responded, meaning to insinuate of course, his status as an infant. But the joke didn’t stick, his smile nothing to do with your insult. Gojo refused to hand over the goods, but you continued on your walk regardless. You cupped the coffee in your hands, grateful for the warmth. You should have brought gloves, though both you and Gojo wore jackets and scarves. How the summer had died so quickly was both welcomed and mourned. The heat giving way a bit too quickly. You wouldn’t mind saving on air conditioning though.

As you both walked towards the red torii that arched over the road, your mother’s voice stopped you.

“This is perfect for a photo. Come on, squeeze in.”

“You want me to take it? You guys and the 'blushing bride'?” Gojo offered, his intent obvious. He didn’t want your mother to have any more photos of him to use as leverage. However, the smile that he was treated with was icy and resolute.

“Oh no. I’d much prefer one of my daughter and my future son-in-law. That is a normal thing to want isn’t it? Wouldn’t a married couple treasure such a photo of their youth?”

You could practically hear his teeth grind. A chuckle escaping your throat and earning you a sharp, overly betrayed look from him. The expression turned, something naughty no doubt coming into his head as he dropped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in.

“Alright, snap away.”

One photo. Two.

“Just a few more!” Your mother said and you nodded dutifully. Gojo’s fingertips touched your cheek, brushing something away— or so you thought. Instead your face was turned in, his arm raising up snug in a near headlock as he kissed you for the camera.

When you pulled back, he didn’t stop you. Twice you’d slept with him and still whenever he kissed you it made your skin prickle with goosebumps, heat spreading through your limbs like a forest fire.

“Anymore, mom?” Gojo said, finally succeeding, at long last, to throw your mother off. To her credit, she laughed, not the forced polite laugh but her real one. The one people said sounded like your own.

“Go on, go take him on a tour. Your father and I will be around when you’re done to say goodbye.”

Gojo barely waited for her to turn around before he was fist-pumping his triumph. If only he knew he hadn’t scared her mother away… he’d simply convinced her you were safe with him. A fact that had you reeling, silently and unrecognized by Gojo.

“Isn’t there a shrine up these stairs? This early I bet it’s pretty empty. C’mon, show me.” Gojo said as he tossed his arm around you again, holding you close, steps in line with your own shorter ones.

“O…okay…”

“Nice and empty… probably where you and your old middle school boyfriend would sneak off to make-out yeah?”

You shrugged, thoughtlessly, “Actually, yes. Once or twice. Lots of kids did back then, it was a pretty sec—“

Gojo was staring at you. Not smiling, but his eyes still shining, looking at you from over his sunglasses. His lips twitched just slightly, the barest trace of a frown. He quickly masked it with a bite of croissant.

“Oh…oh, that is delicious.”

“Sharing is caring.” You said, knocking your head into his arm with a pout. You walked up the steps, careful not to trip as Gojo tore a piece of the croissant apart, chocolate warm and stretching between the layers of bread.

“Say ‘ah’.” He directed and you, without hesitation, obliged. I mean. If you opened your mouth for the man to spit in, you’d definitely open it for a pastry. He fed you, licked his fingers when he was done and tore off another piece for himself.

Something dark had hazed over his eyes, a smirk settling across his lips that had you dead sure he was thinking of something disgusting and vulgar.

Despite yourself, you were intrigued.

“What?”

“Just thinkin’… ‘bout how I said I’d put you on your knees if you wanted.” He said, keeping his voice low even as you both drew further and further away from the street.

“Got myself all in a tizzy… thinking about you saying ‘ah’ for my cum.”

“Denied.” You said, finding all you could do was laugh now in the face of how honest he could be.

“Spitters are quitters, you a quitter?” He chided, teasing and light. He even tore you off another piece of croissant and passed it over. You took it with a shake of your head.

“I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”

You chewed the pastry with a smirk, walking on in relative quiet now that Gojo seemed to have gotten his requisite disgusting joke out of the way. A few steps across the dirt ground into the shrine proper and you noticed he had stopped.

Gojo stood just beneath the entrance torii, his eyes hidden behind his shades as he tilted his coffee cup around in his hand, swirling the contents inside.

“You aren’t.”

Oh.

“Well— yeah. Right. Just… making a joke.”

What was he getting at? Your stomach felt as knotted as the apple bread back in the bakery and not near as sweet. Watching him purse his lips and seem to consider saying something more.

“Actually… I was thinking this morning that we may not even need to keep this up for a full year. Seems I really pissed off the family with that stunt with the statue… questions of my maturity and all. The fact my uncle doesn’t show any signs of keeling over anytime soon.”

The wind felt colder, sharper against your skin.

“Okay. Well. We’ll see what happens.”

Why did your voice feel so small? Words almost rasping out. You cleared your throat, drank another long sip of coffee to try and soothe it.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo said with a mirthless smile, “I’ll make sure you get another top sorcerer to finish your training up if that happens.”

“… I don’t see why you couldn’t keep teaching me.”

“Letting your ‘ex’ be your mentor? I can’t imagine a believable reason for that.”

Why was he saying this? Your skin was cold and yet somehow your cheeks felt on fire. The roof of your mouth prickling with unspoken words, ready to snap, angry and hurt out from your tongue at even the mention of switching mentors.

“Well, like you said. We don’t know whether we need to keep it up longer or not.”

Gojo nodded, “Of course.”

You nodded back.

He kept nodding. You kept nodding. This was getting weird. You would take more blow-job jokes over this. Hell, you’d give him one if he’d stop not looking at you and saying things with such a cryptic air.

The universe provided in strange ways.

A sharp scent struck your senses, like dust. Like mothballs. Mold. Old books. A curse up here at the shrine? No… no, not likely.

“You feel it?” Gojo said, voice low, “Find it, will ya?”

You nodded briskly, thinking of the people below on the street. The town. Your parents. This signature was not small, flaring your senses even relaxed as you were… and more than that it had an intent that tasted sour on your tongue.

“Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

Your senses opened, Gojo bright and constant to your forefront, but another signature a distance away.

No. Not one. Thousands. Thousands of tiny pinpricks of sinister cursed energy, making up a single form. And something else. Like the cut out of where a cursed-user would go, so repressed was the energy that even the natural occurring cursed energy in the air around them was being shielded.

Not very effective.

“Approximately .40 kilometers—“ you pointed westwardly, “That way. One… or two, possibly. Cursed-users. I don’t recognize the energy.”

“Me either.”

“Sorcerers?”

“Dunno.” Gojo replied, “How about we go ask?”

You knew that look. Interested, yet predatory. A wolf circling, sizing up the competition for head of the pack. It was the same look on his face when he combated the monster under the lake and all its minions. Because when you’re the strongest, you gotta take your kicks where you can, right?

You both easily teleported the distance, Limitless’ firing sequence.

Mom will have sensed it…

You thought to yourself and quickly pushed it aside. This was your job, as a sorcerer and as a partner to Gojo in the field— mentee or not. In hindsight, you should have known something was off because as soon as you both appeared in the small forest near the edge of the town, it was clear someone was waiting.

Expecting.

The man cut an impression silhouette, broad shoulders and strong arms beneath the long coat he wore. His hair was cropped short, right against the scalp and a dark tattoo spread from one side of his head down his neck. An incomplete mandala, intricate and beautiful.

But more importantly, was what he held in his hand— the shoulder of a young boy, his tiny sobs barely audible as he stared at the two of you with open terror.

“Hostage.” You said, and Gojo hummed an affirmative.

You had sensed two energies, where was the other? You rose your Telemetry and sought it out, the tiny skittering energy of a thousand curses… there. The curse-user dropped from the tree in a graceful backwards handspring, landing on her feet at the other man’s side.

There was something around her arms, thin wispy strings.

“Nah, miss. This is just a friend of mine. Aren’t you?” The man said, gently petting his other hand through the boy’s hair until it was messy and sticking up.

“All friends here, yeah?”

“Hmm— I don’t think so! None of my friends are criminals, you see.” Gojo responded, his tone match for match with the light, friendly air the curse-user used.

“Not anymore, huh?”

That sure as shit leveled the playing field fast, the implication obvious. This curse user knew about Suguru, which means he knew about Gojo. Gojo wasn’t smiling anymore, his hand coming up to take his sunglasses off, folding them and tucking them into his pocket.

“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that.” The man said, “You already pullin’ out the big guns? Shucks… guess I outta be flattered, huh?”

You kept your eyes on the grey haired woman and in turn, she had her dark eyes fixed on you. Unblinking, unnatural. You swore you saw a tiny black body go running across the white of her eye— your vision enhanced still by Telemetry.

“Gotta leave a good impression,” Gojo said, “But five is a crowd, don’t ya think? So why not let the fifth wheel head out and we four can have ourselves a double date.”

“Only if you’re with me, Six Eyes.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

Were— were they gonna fight or were they going to flirt?! No time to think. A wad of grey hauled toward you, launching from the woman’s arm and forcing you to dodge away from Gojo’s side. Cutting you off.

“Hell yes, love me some girl on girl action.” The strange man called out with a barking laugh. Shoving the kid forward and out of the way as he took a charging run towards Gojo. Big mistake. These two were just acting like wrecking balls, huh?

It was obvious what they were trying to do… split you up. Keep Gojo alone and you distracted. The woman shot out another strike of web from her arms as she closed in on you, but this time you let it hit right off your Infinity and met her face with a sudden, fierce strike of your own.

Her blood was black and as it splattered onto your knuckles you saw the tiny, tiny bodies of spiders go rushing across your skin.

“Hooooooly fuck— that is a hard no!” You gagged, shocking off another Infinity dodge and strike, feeling the strange hollowness of this woman’s body. As if she were stuffed with webs rather than muscle or fat.

She was fast. Agile, but fragile. Meeting you head on didn't seem like it was her style, and yet even injured she was still attempting, going from defensive to offensive. As for Gojo, you imagined he would be Limitless bitch slapping this guy any second now.

…any second now.

Again with the delaying, really—

But your thoughts died in your head as you realized the sunspot was gone. Not dimmed, not repressed but gone. As if the bright star of Gojo’s energy had simply vanished. As if he were…no. No.

You tore your eyes away from your opponent only to find your heart in your throat— seeing Gojo bent over, hand grasping his face to stifle the rush of crimson that was spilling from his nose. His eyes sharp, furious and confused and— and… oh. Oh god. The curse-user had hit him. Really hit him.

What. The. Fuck.

And then the woman hit you, something sharp sinking into your Infinity, trying to bite through and held back. She wanted to dance? You were going to dance. The katana was easy to summon, teleporting it through the distance from the house to your hand in a blink. The next time she shot a web sling at you, you cut it apart.

Gojo and the man were engaged in what could only be described as a brawl. No cursed energy between either of them, just pure, unadulterated hand to hand combat. Gojo was good in a fight all on his own, but it was his cursed energy that packed the weight behind his punches. This guy? His weight packed the weight behind his punches.

Tossing that grey creepy woman to the side took a few tries, but finally finally you had an open line right to them. You rushed forward, Infinity blaring out around your skin.

“Stay back!”

Another first. Gojo's voice was cracked, but loud and demanding. The tone making you freeze in place.

“Fuck— fuck me… that's some god damn awful technique you got. Gojo family know about you? Yeah… yeah I bet they do.” Gojo huffed, wiping scarlet from his face and spitting a fountain of it to the ground.

“That is the power of my ability… the Empty Eyes: Unimportance. Two people, one look… and you both become as strong as the weakest of you.” The man turned with a grin to where the little boy still sat on the dirt he shoved him in.

“So tell me, Gojo Satoru, how does it feel to be as helpless as a child?”

You took another step, hand on your katana, tightening as you tried to see a flaw— a lie in his explanation. The truth blinding and evident in the blood that ran freely down Gojo’s face.

“I wouldn’t do that miss… rude to interrupt two men in a fight.

This— this wasn't possible. No curse-user with this ability would be allowed to go unchecked, unknown by the Gojo clan. A man who can limit the Limitless?! It didn’t exist! But as you stared into his eyes, void of light despite being almost the same blue as Gojo’s own, you suddenly understood one thing very keenly.

They hadn’t been trying to separate you from Gojo at all.

They had been separating him from you.

It was maddening, watching Gojo attempt to summon forth his cursed energy— drawing a bucket from an empty well. The anger, the utter horror that fell over his expression and then the slow resolute and soberness that fell over him.

“Get out— leave! Go now!”

“Too easy… just way too easy. Though I guess next time I won’t have the element of surprise, huh?” The man said, yawning and stretching out his arms. You could do this. You didn’t need to run, you were Limitless. The technique only lasted if he lived, right?

You took up a stance, sword poised and ready.

Guess there was one way to deal with that.

You felt the burst of blue rising up inside you, the shooting off of the Limitless technique you’d come to master— and then your energy faltered. Waned. Sapped out by the sharp pinpricks of tens of hundreds of rows of teeth. You stared down at your hand where pain was flaring, hot and bright.

The spiders— the fucking spiders…

Their tiny bodies were now each the size of a dime, bulging with red bellies full of not blood—- but your cursed energy.

That scent again— mothballs and mold— and then you felt something sharp, right at your neck. Your legs crumpled out beneath you, body going numb and your Telemetry going dark as something began to weave around you. Engulfing your legs, your arms and then finally coming up to block out your last vision of Gojo— his hair fisted in the man’s hand, stopped in his attempt to reach you— then stopped cold by a sharp kick to his head.

All you saw, all you felt, became nothing but dulled pressure.

In hindsight, this could be worse.

He could be near cut in half, throat rupturing, bleeding out so fast he didn’t even register when his body had gone cold.

That is what Toji Fushihiro did to him when he was sixteen.

In comparison, the pain he felt now was less physical and more immediately emotional. Which was bullshit, this was all bullshit and fuck his eye hurt. His retina was definitely detached, blinking back tears of blood, barely able to move his jaw without sudden extreme pain. Was it dislocated? Didn’t matter. He could feel his energy returning, his Six Eyes settling back and his reversal working its magic.

The kid was crying again, god he almost wished they’d killed him just to spare him the headache… a thought he would later probably regret having, but not right now. Not with his blood pounding in his ears and in his mouth when it shouldn’t have been spilt at all.

Empty Eyes. Empty Eyes he had called himself.

A myth, a rumor. Gojo had heard of it only in study, never in practice. The Curse of Unimportance—  borne from the depressive state of humanity believing in the face of the universe they were meaningless— capable of causing extreme fatigue, the utter desolation of cursed energy output and in some extreme instances, reverting the afflicted back to a lesser evolutionary state.

The entire clan and all of their holders were wiped out centuries ago by none other than an off branch of his own. So why the fuck did he just get his ass kicked by one? He didn’t want to think about, all he wanted to do, was sit up, rinse his mouth out and make sure you were still breathing.

Which he did, hand pressed to his still weeping eye and noting the sun had begun to set. How long was he out?

More importantly— where were you? Your energy, your life-force… it was… it was gone. Panic, hot, blind panic spiked through his chest like a shot of adrenaline. His sudden movement startling the young crying boy further as Gojo stood and opened his awareness— forced forward the full power of the Six Eyes from where it had been so politely napping under that Empty Eyes technique and finding— nothing.

You were just— gone.

Bile, bitter and burning rose in the back of his throat. The taste of copper on the roof of his mouth still sweet and strong.

No. No— no, no, no, not again. Not again.

Gojo turned, gaze fixing on the boy who recoiled away, fear still raw on his face.

“The girl— the girl I was with, did they take her?”

The boy cowered, whining lowly.

“The girl! Did they take the girl?!”

Bursting into tears the boy nodded, wails erupting with renewed vigor from his tiny body. For his mother, his father— Gojo’s chest seized and then a calmness passed over him. Cold, distant. He took out his phone, the screen cracked in three places and dialed a familiar number.

Before Nanami could even begin to speak, Gojo cut him off.

“Need a team of first-grade sorcerers. Call Kyoto Tech if you have to. We have two curse-users loose and they’ve done something very naughty.” He tried to laugh, the sound coming out something nearer to unhinged, “They stole my girl.”

Waking was terrifying. The memory of what happened, where you were, who you were with right there the moment you came to. It was hard to see, light shining through in a dim amber glow from outside.

You held back a sharp cry.

You were still bound up in webbing, feeling it sticking to your face and your limbs, unable to move, but thankfully able to breathe. This is about when you cursed energy would start to swell, building up beneath your palms— but instead you felt nothing. No energy. No power. Had that man used the same technique he had on Gojo now on you?

Your thoughts snapped back to that moment, to that rolling, powerful feeling of wrongness. Gojo bleeding. Gojo powerless. Gojo’s eyes, wide and stunned and confused right before the kick that knocked him out.

And all you could think was— he looked so young.

You supposed fear had a way of making even the Six Eyes no longer seem so godlike. But the problem wasn’t that he was freaked the fuck out— the problem was, no you were even worse. Your breaths drew in sharper, faster. Which made it feel like they weren’t coming in at all. A quick wrench of your shoulders, a twist in your waist— trying to break free. To get out.

And then there was a voice, gentle. Low. Too gentle. It hushed you, a hand on your back.

“We’ll have you out in just a sec, miss. Relax, breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.”

It was that man. But despite the sudden bursting in your chest, he was right. You took in a breath, held it and let it out. And once you felt a slight bit calmer, the webbing began to move, parts falling away, but some remaining locked around your upper arms, keeping them held behind your back.

"This is a mistake, Jin" said a female voice, but she was hushed soon too. You were in a building somewhere— no windows. The spider woman was here, sitting perched on a rickety table and looking at you with something akin to interest—- the kind of interest a spider itself might have for a fly or a cricket trapped in its web.

The man, supposedly "Jin", helped you stand, sat you in a chair and you tried not to let it show how bad you were shivering.

“I switched your strength level with a non-sorcerer on the way here. It isn’t permanent, but the technique lasts as long as I am conscious to fuel it.” Jin said simply, taking another chair, turning it backwards and sitting down with his arms wrapped over the back.

You might have even called him handsome, were this any other situation. His dark brows relaxed and his expression almost bemused and friendly.

“Kumiko?” He murmured to the spider woman, and she sighed and brought him a lidded plastic cup, a straw sticking out.

“Here— it’s water.” He took a drink himself, showing it was safe before he offered you the straw. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach, threatened to show as terror in your eyes. You knew what was coming… better to take it now and hope it was drugged or poisoned. That would make whatever they did next easier.

You took the straw in your mouth and drank, disappointed to find it was truly only water.

“Ah, have a bit more. We have a long night.”

“Who are you?” You croaked, dropping the straw from your lips, “Why—“

“Why are we doing this? Where have we taken you? Is Gojo Satoru alive?” Jin smiled, “I’ll answer in reverse. Yes. Somewhere they can’t find you. And because we were paid to by someone who wants you to listen very very carefully to everything we tell you.”

You swallowed thickly.

“Who paid you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Someone powerful, obviously, yeah? The fact they were ready to have me revealed ahead of schedule says they are taking this threat pretty seriously… you ever hear of the Equal Curse?”

You had, but you waited for him to explain, because all of those clan members should have been dead.

“Two-hundred or some years ago,” Jin said, sitting back and running a hand through his short hair, “There was a clan of sorcerers who stood at odds with the Gojo, yeah? Because they had the ability to limit the Limitless. Borne from the time when men realized how fucking pathetic and meaningless their lives were in the face of everything.”

He sipped at the water, gave a little shrug. You noticed again how dull his eyes were, dark rimmed, deep-set and almost tired looking despite the smirk on his lips. Having such a technique was bound to effect its user.

“The Gojo clan got stronger, got bigger. The Six Eyes back then found reasons to wage war against the family that could produce a child with the ability that was the anti-thesis of her own. The Empty Eyes. And so they were wiped out. All thought dead, until of course…” he pointed to himself, “I was born. Which meant I had to be dealt with. But funny enough, a new Six Eyes had also been born, so what to do?”

You tested at the webbing around your arms. Tested at drawing up your cursed energy. The woman, Kumiko laughed suddenly and you looked up to see her watching you with amusement.

“I was allowed to live, under the rule I keep my head low. Stay to the fringes of the sorcerer world… and in exchange, one day, I might be called upon to help end the threat of that Six Eyes.”

He gave a little shrug, “Funny how instead they wasted that plot twist on you, huh? But I don't get to make these calls. You don’t seem so scary to me, but some of those higher-ups? Damn near terrified of what has been happening with you. A couple days under Gojo Satoru’s tutorship and you became a fully awoken Limitless user… a perfect little soldier, but it’s even worse. Cause you love him and you’re gonna marry him and make a whole gaggle of more perfect little Limitless children, all lined up and waiting to inherit daddy’s Six Eyes… raised to rebel and cause trouble no doubt just like him.”

Jin chided you, tsked his tongue.

“Or worse yet, you inherit it first, and just as we got rid of one threat we get a new one. One that is pissed off I killed her boyfriend.”

Gojo had warned you, had said people were watching him and his choice of bride. That they were even encouraging him to select one. You had been a candidate once! But— Gojo-sama’s words returned to your mind.

Your candidacy was deemed improper when you were sixteen.

Unauthorized breeding of the Six Eyes with any jujutsu sorcerer is explicitly forbidden .

And then the most important of all, the one that should have set off the warning sirens in your head, made you end this charade before it became less an act and more of a feeling.

Is she pregnant?

They’d been trying to warn you. Discourage you. Scare you off. Not because they were cruel or rude or because you were less… because they knew what would happen if you didn’t stop now.

“So first off, I gotta ask…” Jin sighed, looking a bit bashful, “Are you pregnant, miss?”

You stayed silent. Teeth clenched together. Something soft settled into the line of his mouth, smile attempting to be kinder even as his eyes reflected nothing back but a dead stare.

“Don’t make this difficult. We brought kits, but I was kinda hoping to avoid needing to use um.”

Oh. So that was why he was plying you with water. Lovely. You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“I’m not.” You answered. You’d been safe— well. Mostly safe.

“Doesn’t matter I guess anyway, just will make them I report to feel a bit better, I imagine. Which is kinda funny, like? Who orders this kind of thing and gives a shit about a baby dying, yeah?”

Your heart was some where in the vicinity of your knees now and dropping lower. Were they going to kill you? Everything felt cold, numbed.

“… he’ll rip you apart. Your employers. Their family. Doing this will only motivate him to pull the jujutsu world out by the rotten root.” You said, keeping your voice surprisingly steady, “Killing me kills you. I for one, wouldn’t follow that order.”

Kumiko, you noted, had turned away with a sigh. She looked impatient— or annoyed. Or maybe, this was something she had thought of already too. Not many were eager to cross paths with the Six Eyes and while this guy might be able to stand his own? You’d fought Kumiko. She was a second-grade at most. Hell, you could have ripped her to shreds had you known what they were planning and resolved to kill her.

You had that resolve now. Pulsing and primal in your heart.

“We’re not going to kill you today.” Jin said and you turned back to meet his lightless eyes, so blue, and yet not. As if someone had desaturated Gojo’s own color to something dull and greyed.

“We’re here to educate you, get your assurance you’ll end your association with Gojo and leave you to be found at a designated location.”

He sounded bored now, as if this whole thing were tedious. Disappointing. 

“I think it would be better to kill you, get this whole show started. I’ve been waiting to cross paths with the Six Eyes, well— all my life, yeah? And once he’s gone?” He laughed, “No more hiding. No more shadows for me. But I’m not in a position to make those kind of choices. Never have been.”

He looked at you, a flicker of something passing over his face, “You understand, don’t you? What it’s like… yeah. They gave me a whole report on you. I think you know exactly what it feels like to have a big old black mark cast on your life by the Six Eyes shadow… which is why I find it all kinda funny that now you’re bending over for him.”

The chair scraped across the floor, your arms jerking uselessly against the webbing. Now there wasn’t fear in your eyes, but anger. All that power, all that hell you went through to get it? No, no way were you going to be judged by some curse-user criminal and his archaic-ass bosses.

“We’re nothing alike.”

“Figured you’d say that.”

“We gonna get to the point here, or you wanna keep monologuing like a Disney villain?”

He laughed, loud and deep, “Ah… alright. I guess we can get started. The point of this is so you know what to expect should you continue to be involved in Gojo Satoru’s life. After today, you will end your engagement, go back to Kyoto or that cute little town and— ah. Kumiko, was that it?”

“And resign as a sorcerer.” Kumiko added, her raspy voice like the sound of dry paper.

“Oh yeah. Resign as a sorcerer… sorry for that one. Guess that’s just the price you pay, eh? Failure to do those three things will result in—“ he ticked on finger up, “A. We kill you. Then b, we kill your parents, maybe even do a little number on that town of theirs and then c, we kill your boyfriend— maybe. Depends on how pressed he gets over your death. Given his attitude, might just walk it off or add it to his list of motivators for ‘reforming’ the jujutsu world. Who knows with him.”

Would he be that angered by your death? No… Gojo cared about you, maybe. Enjoyed you. But throwing away all his plans to reform the jujutsu world? His students? Risking the life of your family and his own? No. Gojo would mourn, maybe. He’d lick his wounds and he’d keep going. That is what you believed. What you hoped.

You didn’t want him to throw his life away avenging you. You wanted him to live— to realize that world he envisioned. A world where shit like this didn’t happen.

“Am I supposed to— what? Refuse or accept these conditions now?”

“We don’t need you to say anything. We’re just suppose to give you an idea of what to expect for next time we meet. What your parents can expect. And then turn ya loose. Our employers will keep watch and if you do as you're told—“ he shrugged, “We don’t meet again. You don’t? Then we do and I make you wish this is where it ended.”

You pressed you lips into a thin line, rolling them together.

“Can… can I have more water?” You ask, voice soft, demure. He offered you the straw with a quiet affirmative, almost looking at you with something akin to pity.

So when you spat the stream of water right in his face, the change in his expression from sympathy to annoyance verging on anger is both expected and absolutely delicious. You laughed, in that boisterous hysterical way you had learned from Gojo himself. When you got out of here, it was him who was going to wish you'd never met. It was him who was going to wish this is where it ended. 

All that bullshit, acting like he gave a damn when he was nothing but a hollowed out husk. A nothing. A nobody. Jin wiped his face, sighed.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Nothing. The night was almost over, fading into the early hours of the morning and still nothing. No word from any of the Tokyo or Kyoto sorcerers, Utahime now among their search efforts as they all but scoured the whole of Japan looking for the curse-users.

Or you. Presumed dead. Because no one could sense your signature, even him. Which he tried to explain was an aspect of the Empty Eyes, but even looking as he did, no one seemed eager to believe that cursed technique was alive and kicking.

Even though he looked like a fucking mess. Gojo caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the hall of the main compound and he noted one eye stained red, the hemorrhage still knitting together as his cursed energy tried to fill up back to full power. His whole left side of his face was one massive bruise, but at least his jaw had relocated in the meanwhile.

His ribs hurt when he breathed, his fists were cut, knuckles broken open and worst of all he was exhausted.

But there wasn’t time for any of that shit. No time to clean up out of his bloody clothes— it looked better that way. More intimidating.

And he had quite the show to put on.

That statute in the courtyard was going to be a love pat compared to what he did to this estate if he found out his uncle had anything to do with your being taken. Point punctuated by him all but ripping the sliding door off the wall as he barged into what was clearly a meeting.

Yoshinobu himself was there as well as his own father, turning with an annoyed look at their guest, even if that had to have been expecting him.

“So, the collaborators are all in one place? Excellent. Then I’ll only need to go over this once.”

“Satoru, calm—“ his uncle began.

“If you tell me to calm down I will burn this place to the ground."

Silence. Good. He had their attention.

"Who knew about the Empty Eyes?”

There was no sense in lying.

“I did.” His uncle said, “Or, to be truthful, I had suspicions.”

“Was the Gojo clan harboring him?”

“No.”

“Who was?”

His uncle exchanged a wary look with Yoshinobu, frowning deeply. The old man sighed, looking actually genuinely tired himself.

“We don’t know. But it was not my doing or Gojo-sama’s. But we feared this outcome was inevitable.”

“This kind of response? Really? Over some chick I’m fucking?”

His uncle’s mouth twisted, “Is that all? You had us and many under the very distinct impression this woman was to be your future bride. And I must say, you did a very thorough job in making her seem precious to you, evident by this events.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“Were you not prepared for this? Enemies of the Gojo clan, of which there are many, would obviously see this as a chance to deal a blow to us and the Six Eyes. You are no fool, Satoru. You knew there was a danger.”

“Nothing that she or I couldn’t handle.” Gojo spat, that sentiment patently false.

“This is overkill. Even if she is alive, they gotta know I’m going to rip this Empty Eyes fucker apart just like I did the spear of heaven and the black rope. This—“ he ran a thumb over his face, “Is just a setback.”

“… do you think they intend to leave her alive? What will you do if she isn’t?”

Gojo pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, because his first instinct was to say kill them. Kill them all. Burn it around their ears. Cleanse the rot of these fuckers from the earth.

“Guess I’ll have to start dating again. What a pain.” He said instead, watching how his words made Yoshinobu flinch, anger obvious in his eyes. It was good to know your old teacher wasn’t responsible in just that tiny expression of emotion. He had been trying to protect you. Honestly trying to protect you.

His uncle cast his eyes down in thought, brow furrowed tightly. But oddly, his father had not spoken once. Funny that, given he always had so much to say.

“And you? You got anything to add, or you just here to get snacks?” Gojo shot at that man, wondering how it was that he ever feared reprisal from him. They looked the same— white hair, his dad’s eyes a darker blue— the shape of their face and their height… but that was where the similarities ended.

“This is your fault.”

It shouldn’t have hurt. It shouldn’t have hurt. But four words and all Gojo could see was your smile, your laugh. The way you looked in the morning, pancakes and cream all over your cheeks. Your sharp tongue, made warm and gentle against his own. The softness and the strength of your body… your skin against his. A word kept pulsing through his mind, looping endlessly as the symbol that represented it.

Infinity, infinity, infinity…

It kept him from thinking of other words. Deeper words. Focusing instead on the thing you both shared that no one else on this Earth had. You. His equal, in power, in manner, in everything and every way that mattered. 

And now you were gone. Because he had been selfish enough to want you at his side.

The phone in his pocket chimed and Gojo slid it from his pocket silently, registering the text from Nanami with an exhale of breath.

We have her.
Alive. But it isn’t good.
With Shoko. Come soon.

Gojo tapped his thumb against the keyboard, a simple reply. Short and direct. “On my way”. And then he turned his eyes up towards the three men who should have protected her too. Who should have protected him— who had allowed this Empty Eyes to exist no doubt as a preventative measure in the event he went rogue… and now they were all paying for it.

“If she dies…” Gojo began, “I am going to blame some of the people in this room.”

Before their eyes he was healing again, reversal removing the bruises and the stiffness. His eyes once again flawless and clear.

“And then I am going to kill them.”

Chapter Text

“It could have been worse, Gojo.”

That is what Shoko kept saying as he flipped through the chart she’d handed him, but he couldn’t quite see how. I mean. You were alive. Barely. Tossed in some ditch in the middle of nowhere, your cursed energy having appeared as a tiny blip as the Empty Eyes dispelled his ability and allowed them to locate you. Gojo hadn’t been there, but Megumi had been with the sorcerer who located you.

The kid was doing his best, but in the hospital wing of Jujutsu Tech, he could see where Megumi was huddled up with Nobara and Yuji, clearly shaken by what he saw.

He had to keep it together. The kids were here. Nanami was here, looking at him like he expected any second he would pop.

The chart listed your injuries in order of severity:

Ruptured spleen*
Misc internal bleeding*
Broken eye-socket
Broken jaw
Broken leg, right
Broken ribs
Broken clavicle, left
Eight (8) broken fingers
Broken wrist, left
Dislocated shoulder, left

Miscellaneous burns, abrasions and bruising.

There were a few notes scrawled across the bottom. One indicated the starred items had been healed either partially or fully when her own reversal technique fired back up and were no longer life threatening. There was an additional note that the burns appeared to be from cigarettes and that some of the abrasions were “strange”, that note then crossed out and replaced with “patient states they are from spider bites”.

“… she was conscious when she came in?” Gojo didn’t even know why he asked. He didn’t want to know.

“In and out.” Shoko said, taking a drag off her cigarette. Just like her not to obey the no smoking rules in her own clinic, “I went to work on her and by the time I finished her face, leg and ribs, she was trying to get up. I had to give her a sedative… she’s a fighter.”

“I know.”

What else was there to say?

“Cursed me out. Said my sedatives were making her reversal harder to focus and to just, ‘let her do it’. So I put more drugs in her IV. She got pissed then, thought she was gonna chuck a bedpan at me. And… there is something else, but she asked me to keep it off the chart. Just— some kinda intimidation tactic I guess.”

Gojo’s brow pinched with worry beneath his blindfold, forgetting that such an expression wouldn’t go unnoticed by the only other person who'd know him as long as Geto.

“She asked for you.”

“Yeah, I bet she isn’t too happy with me either.”

“No, I mean—“ Shoko flicked ash off the tip of her cigarette and then, continued, “She asked for you when she was delirious. Fucked up on pain and adrenaline, she kept asking for you.”

Gojo felt a sharp pang in his chest, twisting, ripping at his heart. He hadn’t felt like this since… well, since the last time he was sitting in Shoko’s morgue, Yuji laid out on a slab.

Failure. Grief. Guilt.

No. He had to keep it together. Kids were just down the hall. He could feel them staring, watching. The nervousness in the air. Utahime was doing her best to keep her quiet, tiny hiccuping sobs down— that blue haired girl Kasumi was here even. God, everyone was here. Maki, Panda, Toge, Todo… It was like a small reunion. The rest were still out, keeping patrols, monitoring the reports coming in as the search for the cursed-users continued.

But the worst part, the part he was doing his best to avoid— was your parents were here. Sitting in with you while Shoko broke the news to the fiancé that his future-bride was fucked up and near dead.

This is your fault.

He’d heard that before, just never felt it quite so keenly as he did now.

The door to her room opened and he watched his once future-in-laws step out, ragged and raw. Hours ago you’d all been walking the streets of her hometown, making jokes, taking photos… and now… Gojo swallowed thickly and stood still, waiting as your mother approached him. There was no anger in her eyes. She handed him an envelope.

“I printed them before I came. Keep… keep it with you. While you look for these bastards. Remember it.”

He took the envelope, nodding slowly. Nanami took over from there, the crowd thinning as Gojo was left standing in an empty hall with only Shoko and his own thoughts— and the door between him and you.

He opened the white paper, slid out a glossy photo. You and him, in front of the torii.

The look she gave him, knowing and fierce. Aware of the thing he had been trying to deny, to force away. Seeing it there, the knowledge on her face— it made it impossible to deny what this pain was.

Shoko left him alone to see you, slipping into the room and passed the curtains to your hospital bed. Your eyes were shut, but he could tell you weren’t sleeping. Arm in a sling, leg fixed up thankfully by Shoko’s technique, but the rest would come with time. You opened your eyes, straining a little on the side that had been newly repaired from the broken eye socket. There were still burn marks fresh on your arms, your upper chest… bites no doubt from the spiders and bruises beyond counting.

“…I lived, bitch.” You rasped, and Gojo felt the shocked laugh punch from him, short and breathy.

“They stole my ring.” She added, words heavy, “…Broke the other fingers after just to be dicks.”

“I’ll get you another one.”

“No.” She said, sitting up. The very sight of it was enough to make his body wrack with sympathy pain, reaching out to stop her and falling just short of touching her arms. She had to be sore, he didn’t want to make it worse.

“… we need to talk, about why you were looking to get engaged.” She said, not angry, just tired.

“Right now? How does that even mat—“

The look she shot him showed her tiredness was something she could easily exchange for anger at any moment. His mouth slowly closed and Gojo felt a renewed feeling of dread sink into his stomach.

She knew.

Slowly, she opened the front of her hospital gown. Written, in half healed slashes across her chest was a four letter word.

B A I T

“… You did always tell me I was good at it.”

It wasn’t something you’d figured out yourself, but what Jin, the Empty Eyes had said, half way through putting out the sixth cigarette onto your skin. By then you barely even noticed. All the pain blending together until your entire being just felt like one open nerve. There had been a moment you thought you could escape. Dislocated your own shoulder, slid from the webs… only to be stopped, to have your leg snapped for your trouble. As you lay there in the pool of your own blood and sweat and god knew what else, Jin had quietly told you why it was any of this had happened.

Because Gojo was testing the higher-ups. Dropping incidents like stopping Yuji’s execution and other power flexes like depth charges— trying to scare out the weapon he knew they were holding back.

“Of course they have contingency plans… of course they do, honey. He knew they had something, but no idea what… so what better than to do than dangle you out as the bait to get us to come for him? The thing they told him not to touch…hey. Maybe I should carve that word on you huh? So every time you look in the mirror you remember what you really are."

It smelled like bullshit. It could have all been complete bullshit, but you wanted to see the look on Gojo’s face for yourself at the sight of the word. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look confused. He looked ashamed. That was a first.

“Was this all a ploy to get the Empty Eyes to reveal himself to you? So you could kill him? The engagement, pretending like you were looking for a wife… Satoru. Did you know? Did you do this on purpose?”

“… I didn’t know who he was. What he was. I didn’t know this would—“

“Did you use me as bait this whole time!?!”

Your ribs creaked, aching from the force of the words you shouted through your lungs. Then, slowly, he slid off his blindfold, met your eyes and sent a fracture through your heart with a single word. One that would threaten to break open if he just pushed a little harder.

“Yes.”

The groan that tore from your lips was half pain from your body and pain from your heart, chiding and chastising you already. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!

“Now wait— it isn’t that simple. I knew something was going on. I knew someone was keeping an eye on the chicks I hooked up with, on my personal life. I knew my uncle was getting shit for it too and he told me to pick one of the girls they approved of from back then… but I…”

“You picked me. One they said not to.”

“Hey— I had other reasons for that too and… and I thought at worse we’d get political pressure. Scoldings, push-back. Threatened with some trump card they were hiding. If anything at all! It was a gamble, a total fluke. I thought I’d figure out what was going on before— before anything got this bad.”

Gojo Satoru, Six Eyes, the strongest sorcerer, was all but stumbling over his words. And that made it so much more real than you wanted to to be, so much more true than you already knew it to be.

“I didn't know that fucker existed. I didn't know they would do this. The Empty Eyes are supposed to be dead.”

“But you’re glad you know, aren’t you? About what you’re up against now. Despite it all, everything went according to plan.”

His voice edged up, matching your own, “Nothing about this is according to any god damn plan. You think I wanted this? You got such a shit opinion of me you think I wanted this?”

He gestured widely over you, throat working as he hissed out.

“I did not want this.”

And you believed him. God, you believed him. If he had, he would have never let it get to this point. You remembered the look on his face… powerless, terrified… right before they knocked him out. But still— there were other things. Things you feared he’d say and do. To keep you safe, to keep that promise he made after failing already once to maintain it.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

He looked so young again. Lost. Suddenly vulnerable, as if you had managed at last, to find a weakness through the shell of his Infinity.

“I know.” He said lowly.

“So keep your promise. End the engagement, fine, but this thing about me giving up my place as a sorcerer? Never. Never, Satoru. I won’t do it. This? This is nothing. This will heal. But helping them take that from me will be the real thing that breaks your promise.”

“We can talk about this—“

“No! … no. Because I know what you’ll say. That this is too dangerous. Too much for me. That I need to resign until this can be fixed and go back to being less than nothing. Less than worthless. That this is for the best. Let you sort it out while I sit and wait around at home.”

You scoffed, shook your head, “And then I’m sure you’ll say some horrible shit to make me hate you, make me want to stay away from you after this is over— but it won’t work. If you think I’m gonna walk out of here with anything less than the conviction to hunt those criminals down at your side, sanctioned or unsanctioned, you are fucking dreaming!”

He wasn’t saying anything. Wasn’t doing anything. Just listening to you until you were panting, near out of breath, pulse rising and the blips on the machines connected to your racing faster.

“You can’t sideline me. You can’t—- you can’t make me give this up—“

“Okay.”

“… what?” You said, sucking in a breath so sharply you swore you re-broke another rib. At least it felt like you did. Gojo pulled a chair closer to the side of the bed, sat heavily down on it, arms resting across his thighs.

“What?” He repeated back, a wry smile on his face. He looked… he looked tired.

"You think I was gonna come in here and make some big dramatic speech? Talk about how a ‘handful of fucks’ don’t make you special? That this was all a charade anyway, so no point in keeping you around? Tell you to give up what you’ve worked for? For.. what? So you don’t die? I might as well kill you myself than make you live such a miserable existence, scared and hiding, waiting to see if they ever come for you again.”

He sighed, shook his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He must have had a headache— using the Six Eyes so much to try and find you while your energy was blocked. He’d taken a beating himself, even if it didn’t physically show on him anymore. You saw his face, his eyes— Gojo Satoru was not use to defeat.

“Dummy. How obvious would that be?”

You didn’t dare reply. Your throat clenching, hand clutching the sheets, trying to will your eyes to stop stinging. Gojo didn’t seem to notice, continuing on with his eyes half squinted against the light in the room.

“For starters, we’ll put on a show of breaking it off then we’ll tackle you resigning— and I’m gonna need you to play your part damn well for the next few weeks while I find these shitheads. So yeah, that bit you don’t get to play a big role in because it’ll catch too much attention… but once we got them. You and me? Gonna get some good ole fashion biblical revenge.”

Don’t look up. You wished silently. Don’t let him look up.

And then he did.

“Unless you’re scare—“

The words died in his throat, his mouth falling open in a silent ‘oh’. You were crying, properly crying. Finally letting out a tiny hiccuped sound as you roughly rubbed at your eyes. You were crying and angry for being made to cry.

“That’s just like you— fuck. You… you say this shit and make it impossible for me to hate you!”

He hated crying people. He said that to you once. That he didn’t know what to do, how to comfort them. But the hand that reached out and settled over your own was warm, even if a little hesitant.

“And I hate you, Satoru. I really hate you.” The words held no weight, no conviction, “You couldn’t leave me alone, could you? Had to be me. The one person who was completely unfit to be with the godly and perfect Six Eyes. Now look at me— I’m a fucking mess.”

With both hands he held yours, cupping your palm gently. And then, without a word he pressed his lips to your knuckles. To the empty spot on your ring finger.

“Are you in pain? Where?”

He had to know already, but still you began with the worst part. The one that had nearly made you faint in agony when it was done.

“My leg hurts.”

“Here?” Gojo set a hand just below your knee. You nodded and he stood up to bend over and press a kiss against your leg through the sheet.

“Where else?”

“My jaw. My eye.”

Two more kisses, soft and light against your aching skin. 

“And?” His voice was rough, raw.  So you went on, naming each injury, each place where you were hurt… and Gojo kissed each spot. The act seemed as much for you as it seemed to be for him. When it was over, he crossed his arms across your bed and buried his face down with a deep exhale. You wondered if when you were missing if he thought you were dead, if he had thought about whether he would see you again and if it had hurt him. Had wounded him.

The answer seemed obvious.

“Satoru… it’s good it is over.” You said quietly, groggily, daring to rest your hand in his hair, to slide the strands through your fingers, “… Being your fiancée. I think I would have ended up… breaking the rules…”

They had pumped you full of enough sedatives to take down a horse, their effects no longer resisted by you or your Limitless, unfolding back to life after being forced down by the Empty Eyes. You let them take over, let them soothe your nerves and senses until you felt weightless and painless. There was one sensation, small and slow… the tracing of Gojo’s fingertip across your skin. Looping in a small figure eight.

If Gojo heard you he didn’t reply, didn’t move except for that small touch. Instead you fell asleep and when you awoke, your worst injuries almost completely healed from the combination of your own reversal and Shoko’s, he was gone.

Chapter Text

The hardest part about this fake break-up? You had no idea how to act. What did women who broke up with guys like that do? You were staying back in your own apartment, which had a way of making you feel a little sad. Lonely. You never realized how just having Gojo around had effected your life so much. Utahime was a frequent visiter, which was for two reasons. One. She was your best friend and kept a constant supply of wine and ice cream coming through and other standard post-break-up food. Two, she dropped off the continual cycle of burner cells you used to communicate with your ex-not-fiancé and comrades.

The Gojo family did their job as well. Gojo-sama making his “pleasure” at the break-up known and Gojo’s father even assisting in reaching out to previously considered young women and finding out their eligibility. The rumor mill was running at lightning speed. At this point, Utahime, Nanami, Shoko and Yoshinobu remained the only staff that knew the truth.

Gojo’s students, the others and even your own fellow Kyoto sorcerers all believed that your break-up was a result of your fear. Having been horrifically beaten and kept in the hospital for days— honestly, the only thing left wounded on you was your pride, a fact that you wouldn’t see happening again.

That kind of rush tactic worked once.

It had been roughly two weeks, the weather now decidedly turned to fall. Your status as a sorcerer was “suspended, per-request, pending review”. There was a meeting scheduled where it was suspected you would resign from your position, forgoing your status as a sorcerer and removing to “normal” life.

It was, as the engagement, a fraud. You only hoped it was convincing enough, with Gojo himself writing an affidavit as your mentor supporting your removal, claiming ineffectiveness of your skill and extreme emotional trauma. Which was hysterical. Gojo saying you were mentally unstable? Priceless.

Utahime had already left for the evening, but there were plenty of other second to first grade sorcerers outside your building working as body guards. Even Megumi had offered to take a round… he was a sweet boy. Obviously worried about his own teacher. This all left you to camp out on the couch, burner phone in your hand. It was more than tech that encoded it, but sigils, protective charms to mask it from notice.

We got a good lead.
Empty Eyes is laying low, but that woman has come up in other investigations.
Some sorcerer fam kid got taken out by that spider lady they think
Night before you got taken even

-She kill people a lot?

Yep. Pro assassin
Lots of kills, mostly family disputes, removing heirs. Bastards. Ya know

-So our situation was just bsn as usual for her
-she is the key tho. We get her, we get him
-they had a weird vibe. Like together but not

Your skin crawled at the very memory of the woman. How she spilled tiny cursed spiders from her lips and let them clamor over your skin, biting, frustrated that there was no cursed energy for them to consume even as she ordered them over and over to devour. Jin had taken a sort of pleasure in hurting you that Kumiko had not. She was detached, even put off. As if she were hesitant to hurt you, in fear of the reprisal. Where as Jin did whatever he wanted, including threatening to write even more horrible things across your chest than “bait”.

"I could put my initials right here…” Jin said, taping the tip of the knife against your hip.

You shuddered. Forcing your eyes shut as if that would block the memory out.

Yah. Btw
How r u?

Barely sleeping, you thought, Wracked with nightmares and worried any second that Jin is going to show up at my door, thanks. How are you?

Instead, you deflected.

-u worried bout me?

U got fucked up pretty bad
It sucked

-All healed. Raring to go.

Still workin on that
Gotta figure how we deal with him
Keep me in the game

That was an important detail they had not yet worked out. As it stood now, any attempt to meet Jin head on would result in a close repeat to last time. They needed a plan, a good plan. Not Gojo’s wild gambles.

But forget that rn
Wryw? ♥

-????

What. Are. You. Wearing.

-Are you trying to sext me

Yah
Its been weeks

-oh wow weeks huh?

Im srsly backed up
Got blue balls

-you’re disgusting

Yah
So wryw

-pjs

Which ones

-some very fancy boxer-briefs
-and a hoodie that someone left in the dryer
-Utahime told me it is normal to steal an exes clothes

You’d returned to Gojo’s apartment when he was gone after declaring the engagement officially off. The taking of the shirt had been an accident. You actually had quite a few of his clothes, the lazy ass having tossed some of his own in when you were doing a load of laundry before this all went to shit.

His hoodies? The ones you thought were for lazing around the house? Yeah. The one you were wearing right now was fucking Givenchy. Even the man’s sweatpants were designer, boasting a clear Burberry label on the inside… which led you to believe most likely all his clothes were. Down to the Gucci boxer-briefs.

You wearin’ my unmentionables!?

-Yah

Hot

-you are so weird
-we shouldn’t text long anyway
-dont wanna push it

I wanna call you

-even worse idea

I know
But I want to

It was time to face facts. You missed him. Missed getting to tease him and talk to him. Fight with him, fight against him. You missed being able to touch him whenever you wanted, seeing the way his eyes would light up and his glasses would slide down to look at you.

-im gonna say something stupid

How stupid?

-all the way stupid
-i miss you
-shut up

I didn’t say anything!!!

-i can hear you
-talkin shit
-makin fun of me

Im not
Im happy

-why?

Dunno.
Just like the idea of you missin’ me
Tho I think u just missin’ this D
( ゝ з○`)

-I hate you

Say it again, baby

-i hate you

No u don’t
╰ ( ⸝⸝⸝ ´ ꒳ ` ⸝⸝⸝ ) ╯

You sighed and set the burner phone down, not wanting to risk getting wrapped into another back and forth with him. The phone was supposed to be for emergencies, not this, but goodness gracious this fake-breakup was doing nothing for your very new sex-life. Just another reason to be pissed at these assassins.

Never should have underestimated the power of a woman cock-blocked. Especially when that cock is attached to Gojo Satoru.

…. You groaned aloud, smacking your hand into your forehead. God, he was rotting your brain. Who thinks shit like this?! Though you supposed it was better than thinking about other things… like the half-faded scars on your skin, the ache that lingered in your leg and the chill that went down your spine at the sight of a cobweb in the corner of your apartment.

You almost wished something would happen, but you knew you wouldn’t be disappointed for long. There was no way they left this all without a “follow up”.

It had been a few days, burner phone quiet as things progressed silently in the background.

You’d been expecting this, you told yourself, trying to quiet your nerves as you walked back from the corner store. There was a tiny jug of ice cream in your bag, half-melted. You'd spend so much time staring at the things every night you went, dreading what would happen once you left. If this was going to be the night you saw him again. But it had to be done. If you stayed locked up in your apartment all the time, it wouldn't give him the chance he needed to reach out. To make mistakes.

It was dark, leaves rustling in the otherwise silent street as you walked back to your apartment, trying to ignore the panic that was rising up in your chest. There were sorcerers on hand, people waiting and ready to step in, but that hardly made you feel any better. Jin had taken out Gojo. What would a handful of sorcerers do? Take them out and what was left? But then another voice, and this voice was beginning of late to grow bolder answered: me.

He let you sense him, just for a flicker, a beat.

“Don’t scream.”

A full body shudder threatened to go over you, down your back straight to your legs. The break, long healed, even ached at the sound of his voice. Remembering how he laughed, how he wiped your tears away with rough hands and called you a “silly girl”. Too sweet, too gentle in contrast to what he had done to your hands before.

“This little piggy went to market—“

Snap.

“This one stayed home—“

Snap.

You flexed your fingers out and then curled them into a fist.

“How you feeling, miss? All better so soon?” Jin slid from the darkness, a cigarette stuck to the bottom of his lip. It bounced as he spoke. The scent made your skin burn.

“Just come to check in. Make sure you are following the rules.”

“You know I am.” You said, voice sharp, fearful by design. You needed to be convincing. Say what he wanted to hear, but make it harsh. Hateful. You could do that.

“I heard… poor guy. Took it pretty hard huh? Heard he even is pushing for you to be expelled from the sorcerer world. Guess that is what you get for making a bargain with the devil, huh? Didn’t take pity on you, did he?”

“… he was convinced he could kill you. Make your conditions pointless.”

“But you’re smarter than that, huh, miss?” He inhaled, blew the smoke out his nose. The smell made your mouth go dry, memories of the last time he finished through a pack still fresh in your mind. You resisted the urge to itch your arms, your upper chest.

“For what it is worth, I’m sorry. You seem like a good girl. Pretty, smart…” Jin said, stepping closer, into the light of the streets. If the sorcerers tailing you hadn’t sensed him before they definitely saw him now.

“You got company?”

“Not my choice.”

“That’s okay, you aren’t in trouble.” He finished his cigarette, flicked it off to the ground and then reached out to gently slide the white strand of your hair through his fingers, curing it around them.

“… you know. If you’re feeling lonely, you could always run away with me.”

Your eyes betrayed your shock and your disgust at the suggestion.

“I’m sure Kumiko would be thrilled.” You spat, unable to stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing his wrist. Shoving his hand away. Instead he took yours, hands closing around the width of it. Your heart rose up to your throat, swallowed down thickly as you remembered how those hands had broken that same wrist.

“This little piggy had roast beef…”

Snap.

“We aren’t exclusive. I’ll admit… she isn’t entirely human anymore. Spends most of her time worrying about her kids. Kinda annoying. I’d rather have someone’s full attention. And wouldn’t it be funny? A Limitless with an Unimportance… though you know all about unimportance already, don’t ya?”

You wanted to jerk away. Anger quickly becoming hard to mask as fear. You weren’t scared of this fucker, you wanted to rip his eyes out of his head. And he had to know that was what was running through your head just by the surging of your cursed energy.

“… we’re not that different, sweetheart. You and me. Got more in common than Six Eyes. We could have fun, and if you were with me, you could be a curse-user. Use your powers. Do whatever you want, whenever you want. You’d be amazing in my line of work.”

He tugged you nearer, his other hand curled now behind your neck, fisting into the hair there and forcing you to stand still. To look at him.

“I’d keep you safe from the higher-ups. From everyone.”

“I’m quite through being a toy to obnoxious men.” You hissed, “You and me? Similar? Don’t make me laugh… you’re just like him. Just the other side of the fucked up, god-complex coin. Let go of me.”

You jerked back and to your surprise he laughed and let you retreat.

“I’m done. With you, with him, with this whole fucked up world. I don’t want a new hand dealt, I’m folding. You can take that back to your employers along with my sincerest hope they get fucked.”

Jin laughed, delighted and loud.

“Ah… I get why he liked you! Such a hot-blooded young woman. Alright. I’ll let um know your sentiments. In the meanwhile, tell your friends I said hi, keep outta trouble and I promise you won’t have to see me again.” He winked, “Unless you beg to.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sweet dreams, miss.”

And with that, he faded back into the shadows. Could he teleport the way you and Gojo did? Not likely. He was using a cursed weapon or artifact to move unseen. There had been the tiniest surge of energy when he arrived. You played the details back in your head. He smelled like car exhaust, air pollution, like cigarettes and even the faintest trace of liquor. City. So his hideout wasn’t someplace rural. You had just barely had the time to set off your Telemetry without him noticing, vision enhanced to let you see the dirt and traces of mud and dampness that clung to the hem of his pants.

It hadn’t rained in Kyoto, but it had in Tokyo a few days ago. Maybe he was hiding out in the capital itself? It was a good place to get lost among the crowds. More then that, you noted the wisps of webs on his clothes. He had seen or been in close contact with Kumiko, so she was still seeing him regularly. Speaking of his clothes… his jacket had sounded strange. Crinkly. Like old parchment.

You were so wrapped up in making mental notes of everything that you hardly noticed the hand that came to rest on your upper arm. Your Telemetry faded and you turned to look at Megumi, his eyes worried and his mouth downturned into a frown.

You hadn’t even known he had volunteered to keep watch over you tonight.

“You okay?”

“… yeah. Yeah, thanks kid. I’m good. You shouldn’t be talking to me though. Not with my sorcerer status up for examination… when it goes through, no one will be able to have contact with me from the jujutsu world.”

“I know. But— You haven’t been expelled yet. And that must have been… scary.”

All Megumi or any of the other sorcerers knew was that they were to tail you, to allow contact if Jin were to make it and to only interfere if she was in danger. You shook your head in reply to him. How the hell did this kid get so empathic with Gojo raising him? Or maybe that was how it happened. Despite himself, Gojo could be highly perspective… and he did like kids. That was obvious.

“I’ll be okay.” You said again, because anything else risked letting Megumi unto too much. And for all this kid knew, you and Gojo had been engaged and had now broken up because of your fears. Of which… you had few. Mostly, you just felt angry. Impatient.

“Can I walk you back?” He offered, “Just to the door?”

It didn’t hurt anything and it would make him feel better. So you gave a small smile and a nod.

Back in your apartment you quickly dialed on the burner phone, looping the call in with Gojo, Nanami and Utahime.

“He’s somewhere in city. My guess is Tokyo based on weather reports. Also, he is still working with the spider-lady. Finding her might be our best bet. She seemed scared. More scared than him.” You outlined the details briefly, business-like, hoping your voice didn’t waver.

“Tokyo? How could we miss him if he was so close?” Nanami’s rich voice spoke the very thing you were still guessing on.

“He’s using some kind of cursed object. Artifact. Something. It’s letting him use short range teleportation. And, I think I figured out why we can’t sense him. His coat sounded strange, I think he literally lines it with ofuda to mask his energy. Kinda like how we have the phones.”

Utahime piped in, “Crude, but effective ultimately. We use that same method to mask objects or people we want hidden.”

“He could even have talismans or other objects all over him. If he’s been made to hide since he was a child, he is probably pretty good at it.” You added, sighing.

“What about his chick?” Gojo spoke up and you tried to ignore how the very sound of his voice made your heart pulse a little faster.

“Kumiko.” Nanami said, “We have a file on her. A second-grade curse user and a vessel for the entity known as the Silk Swarm. A nature based curse, born from humanities fear and apprehension over, quite specifically, nests of baby spiders.”

“Wow. Really?” Gojo said, “I mean… it is pretty. Eugh.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear you say so, Satoru.” Nanami continued, “She is quite a busy woman, but after this latest job she has been laying low. Judging by the instances we’ve picked up with her signature, she needs to kill and devour an individual with considerable cursed energy every few weeks to ‘feed’ the cursed spirit within her.”

There was the faint sound of paper rustling, “She targets sorcerers, fellow curse-users and those with energy sensitivity. It has been almost three weeks since her last meal. She’ll need to hit soon.”

“And then we nab her.” Gojo added with a chuckle.

“What makes you think this guy will even care enough to come for her?” Utahime added, sighing, “He doesn’t seem to be the type to have a lot of attachment to people.”

“You can say that again,” you added with a scoff, “Fucker propositioned me. Tried to seduce me with the promise he could ‘protect me’ from the higher-ups and let me use my powers without sorcerer oversight. I mentioned Kumiko and he didn’t bat an eye.”

“Well, that confirms that.” Utahime said, voice deflating.

“Don’t write her off just yet.” Gojo added, his voice low and tense, “He knows we’re looking for them both. What better way to toss us off the scent than to act like he doesn’t give a shit?”

“I, to my disappointment, must agree with Satoru.” Nanami said.

“Disappointment?! That hurts my feelings Nanamin…” Gojo whined, the image of the pout he no doubt wore clear in your mind as you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“We will have people monitoring for her signature and her killing style. I am sure she will be taking all precautions possible, but if what you said proves true, then she isn’t on the same level as Jin.” Nanami concluded, the assuredness in his tone making your anxiety quell.

“Thank you, I have nothing but faith in you.” You said, meaning it.

“Hey… I’m looking for her too, ya know.” Gojo said, the whine still thick in his voice.

“Yes, yes. Okay, I’ll keep up my side of the plan and just— hang low. The rest of you be careful okay?”

There was a round of affirmatives and one by one the phones disconnected. You were halfway through shutting off your own when Gojo called out.

“Baaaaaaby— wait a sec!”

You rolled your eyes, thankful he couldn’t see your smile as you pressed the phone to your ear.

“I’m still here.”

“How you holdin’ up?” He asked, voice light and still teasing.

“I’m fine.” You said, trying to ignore how you could still smell the cigarette smoke clinging to your hair where Jin had touched. On your clothes.

“Just… gonna take a shower. Feel gross.”

A beat.

“Did he touch you?”

“Yeah, my hair. Makes me wanna cut the whole piece off, but then I’d be lopsided. White hair on one side and not the other, ya know.” You said, thinking for a second you heard him exhale sharply.

“Which hand?”

“Huh?”

“Which hand did he touch you with? Just so I know which one to cut off him.” Gojo said and there was nothing playful, nothing joking in the way he spoke. A better person, or maybe a kinder person would have told him not to say those kind of things. But you?

“I can’t be sure. Guess you’ll have to do both to be safe.”

He chuckled, the sound lower and darker.

“What even is the plan? We throw so many sorcerers at him he doesn’t use his Unimportance technique on you? You’re always gonna be the bigger threat, Gojo.”

“Yeah… we could rush him. But then I worry what kind of nasty domain expansions he might have hidden up his sleeve. Previous Empty Eyes could expand that technique to encompass more people in their domain. Render all of us to one weak level and then just take us out while we’re helpless… I can’t ask Nanami and the others to risk that.”

You had considered multiple possibilities already. If someone powerful enough could get him on the ropes, get him to use his technique and leave him unable to move it to Gojo, then he could easily dispatch Jin. But more than likely, Jin would just keep making Gojo on par with someone around them, rendering the Six Eyes completely inert. And from everything the main family had provided Gojo? It was going to take a Six Eyes to bring this guy down.

Which was probably why the higher-ups, Gojo-sama and Yoshinobu were fully against any operation in going after Jin and Kumiko. There was a real genuine concern that you would be properly exiled from the jujutsu world to preserve the Six Eyes… though they wouldn’t call it that. They’d call it removal due to stress or some other made up bullshit.

Either way. It was becoming more and more clear that this meeting about your “elective” resignation might turn into an actual mandated resignation. And that wasn’t going to fly. Not by you, not by Gojo.

“Funny how the one thing that can bring him down is the one thing he’s good at stopping.” You grumbled, rubbing your eyes with a sigh.

“We’ll figure it out.” Was all Gojo said, a platitude. Not entirely confident boosting, but still there. He was trying at least, he had been doing that a lot in this way. Megumi had even let slip Gojo was forking his teaching responsibilities off on other sorcerers while he devoted his full attention to this.

It could have been for his own reasons. He was clearly eager all on his own to dispatch the Empty Eyes and for his own well-being and future plans… but it was nice to think he was doing this for you too. You hadn’t completely forgiven him, but did you even have a right to hold it over him? You’d agreed to the engagement, knowing you might be targeted— only an idiot would have thought otherwise. You hadn’t known the extent… but neither had he. It wasn’t like you could blame him for not knowing the dangers when you hadn’t even known them.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Gojo hummed, filling the silence you had left.

“Just trying to work through things. Sort this mess.” You said, honest but not fully honest.

“Wish I could provide you a distraction.” Gojo said, your texts from earlier coming back to mind. You smirked and then without a waver replied,

“I wish you could too. Been awhile… “

“Yeah?” The way his voice perked up— it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Mmhm. You think they’ll kill me if I see you for one last break-up booty call?” You asked, knowing the answer but delighting in the way Gojo laughed. It was different, lighter. Huskier. As if he were slowly dropping down those barriers he kept around him— both literally and figuratively.

“I mean, probably. But you’ll die having been well fucked.”

“Promises, promises…”

“Don’t play. I know I ruined that pussy for any other man the moment you stuck your tongue out for me to spit on.”

He had to remind you of that now? Your thighs all but snapped together, pressing tight as you groaned, both in memory and in mortification that the words had sent a hot pang of arousal straight to your core.

“You’re dis—“

“Disgusting? Oh you don’t even know the half of it. I’ve thought about that tongue god knows how many times. Rubbing my cock on it, having you suck me off. Shove myself right down your throat and shoot my load in like a fucking feeding tube.”

That was— intense. Your cheeks were hot, mouth open in stunned silence as the very mental image set through your head. It was gross, it was absolutely vile, and yet a part of you— a sick sick part of you that was making you wonder if you needed to turn in your feminist card or something— … liked it.

“Too much?” Gojo asked, his voice breathy. His laugh almost nervous.

“Absolutely too much.” You said, sinking back on the sofa a little. Your hand toyed with the band of your shorts, his scent wrapped around you in the form of his hoodie, “Tell me more.”

And there was a moment. A pause. As if he couldn’t believe what you just said. As if he thought you were going to be scared off, now of all times. By what? Some really nasty dirty talk? Please.

“Satoru. Tell me more about what you’ve imagined me doing.”

“… you sure you wanna go down this road, babe?”

You laughed, slid your hand down the waistband of your shorts, hand ghosting over your center.

“I already have my hand down my pants, babe. So yeah.”

And he laughs again, punch-drunk and incredulous.

“You’re fucking amazing.”

And now your heart is pulsing as fast as the blood to your core, breath catching and not just from the swirl of the pad of your fingertips on your clit.

“I think about doing everything to you. Everything. Filling every hole, painting you with me. Fuck you until you don’t know whether to cry out my name or god himself. Both. I wanna make you worship me. Beg me. Crawl on your hands and knees to me.”

There was no teasing, no need to hold back. It was your hands and your pleasure you only had to focus on and fuck— he could make you cum from hearing him say all this alone. You tucked the phone beneath your chin, slid your free hand up under the hoodie and palming your breast, toying your thumb over you nipple.

“And… and I want you to fuck my brains out. Ride me, slap me and tell me how disgusting I am. Make me cum and just keep going until I’m busting dry.”

“Yes please— I’d do it. Hell yes.”

“Which? Which babe?” He was panting, groaning low in the back of his throat. Fist no doubt around his dick, pumping as eagerly as you were rolling your clit beneath your fingers.

“All of it. All of it.”

“I’m gonna kill this fucker. I’m gonna kill him and serve his head up to you on a fucking plate.” He growled, and he was serious. That wasn’t just sex talk, that wasn’t titillation. And that idea? Of the two of you utterly destroying those curse-users and then going home, still covered in sweat and blood— the strongest. Limitless. No one left to oppose you.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, spiking through your core as a whimper passed your lips, Back arching up and your fingers moving quicker as you worked yourself through the sharp pulses.

“Babe, you cumming? You cumming for me, sweet girl?”

“Yes, yes— yesyesyes.” You whispered, mindless and breathless.

“Fu-ckkk—“ a long groan followed the word, turning up into a near whine. The phone chimed, buttons getting pressed in a litany of loud beeps as you tensed along with him, wishing you were there. Wish you could lick him clean, let him press drops of white out unto your tongue, those pretty blue eyes watching you, pupils blown wide. You swore, readjusted your cheek and mumbled an apology for the noise that was lost in Gojo’s warm chuckle.

“Mood killer.” He mumbled.

“Shut up.” You heaved a breath, laughing in turn as you took your hand out of your shirt and took the phone in hand again, moving it to your other ear.

“God, is this why people have break up sex? Cause I definitely get it now.”

“Satoru is fine.” He never got tired of that joke, “And we didn’t even really break up. Makes you wanna do it for real just for the buzz, yeah?”

Technically you hadn’t even really been dating, but you weren’t about to argue semantics. Not when your body was humming with aftershocks, endorphins exploding out through your brain and making your limbs feel liquidy.

“… hey so. These phones don’t record all calls do they?” You thought now to ask. They were burners from Jujutsu Tech weren’t they?

“Who fuckin’ cares? I hope they are, we can send copies to the higher-ups who ordered this after we splatter their assassins all over Japan.”

That was a very tempting idea. You smirked, dark and mischievous, the same kind of smile he would wear. It was beginning to make sense why people were so afraid of you two being together. Even you felt a bit nervous by this feeling— the high. The rush. The euphoric sense of power— of being unstoppable as long as you were together.

“Tempting.” You said, kicking your legs up unto the sofa and sinking into the cushions, “And Gojo? I have something to tell you.”

He hummed curiously.

“I’m never giving you this hoodie back.”

Gojo barked a laugh, “Keep it. Call it a souvenir.”

“‘I nearly got killed for fucking Gojo Satoru and all I got was this stupid sweater.’”

That finished him. He was cracking up, rib-splitting-gasping-for-breath cracking up. And that got you laughing until you were both spent— contently laying on your side, listening to him breathe through the line. If you shut your eyes, you could almost feel him there. As if you could reach out and just touch him.

So you did. Hand sliding out towards the empty air— wishing he was there. Knowing he couldn’t be in case they were monitoring the movement of his cursed energy. You opened your senses, let the Telemetry flow out and let the warmth of his cursed energy fall on you like a sun ray on your cheek. You could feel him, sense him… and for the first time in your life, you didn’t hate it at all.

Chapter Text

The thing most people didn’t understand about the Six Eyes was exactly how sophisticatedly it allowed one to manipulate the Limitless. The Limitless, in itself, gave the user the ability to manipulate space, turning the world at large into their own person plaything. Six Eyes took the concept of “space” all the way down to the very atomic level. He saw everything. Calculating and analyzing anything within his line of sight instantaneously. It made reading people, their emotions and their motives as simple as if they spoke them aloud.

It also meant, he could see from kilometers away, easily able to distinguish people and things in extreme detail. Most people could identify individuals based on their unique cursed energy if they focused hard enough— Gojo didn’t even need to try. It was all there, the flowing vibrant lines of energy that coursed through the world and its people like veins.

So when the spider, Kumiko, slinked her way through the streets of Shanghai within the scope of his scanning, well— it was on sight. That she’d made him follow her on this wild goose chase through half of China was an annoyance in itself. Having to get permission from the sorcerers based in any foreign country to run an operation was tedious and from all guesses, probably going to take at least another week or two to get proper authorization.

It was a good thing then he always found it better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Kumiko was stalking a young man. She had a type, that was sure— young douchebags with too much power and too much confidence. Gojo suspected he met her tastes perfectly. Jin’s unique signature was no where to be found, but even his ability to mask his energy, that wasn’t saying much. Gojo had a feeling though that a power like the Empty Eyes wasn’t something that was allowed to run around willy nilly all on his lonesome. Most likely, he was confined to Japan by the terms of his protection agreement with whoever he served.

Unlike her.

Gojo stepped off into the empty air from atop the Jin Mao tower, Infinity beneath his feet as he all but skipped his way down a ways and then, with a surge, teleported the distance towards Kumiko, words ready on his tongue.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one—“

She gasped, sound strangled and choking. Then she moved, fast and agile, barely leaving the remnant of her cursed energy behind as she scrambled away from him. Smart girl. But not smart enough. It would have been easier if she just surrendered, he might have been nicer if she just surrendered. Maybe. He moved again, easily cutting her off and she hissed at him, webbing emerging around her arms and her technique falling against his Infinity like nothing.

“A woman meets a man at the bar and goes home with him—“

Feint. Dodge. He’s untouchable. Unseeable. Kumiko is already lagging behind, eyes wide and terrified, her nostrils flaring like she can scent the predator on the air. Like she can scent her own fear. He could feel it too, the terror falling off of her in waves— not for her own life, but for the lives she carries inside her.

He would delight later in exorcising her little spider children, one by one, in front of her eyes.

“Gets to his place, he’s got three shelves in his bedroom, yeah? Stuffed full with teddy bears. Small bears on the bottom shelf, medium bears on the middle shelf, and big ole fancy ones on the top—“

He struck so fast he doubted she could even see it. Even you, with your Telemetry running, would have been hard-pressed to count how many times he made contact, avoiding the bursts of blackened wriggling blood she let loose. The spider fell back, desperately crawling across the ground with a sharp, animalistic whine.

Gojo felt no pity. No remorse. He bent down, grabbed her by the ankle and drug her across the concrete, pulling her beneath him as he stood above her. To his disappointment, she’d looked to already have given up. Which was a shame… he was hoping to get a few more strikes in before he had to behave himself. He couldn’t kill her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her.

“And the woman is thinking to herself— ‘Wow! He’s so sensitive! Look how lovingly these are arranged! He’d be such a great father!’ And when they fuck she is so overwhelmed, responds with more passion and heat than ever before—“

He reached down again, grabbed a fistful of Kumiko’s ashen hair, ignoring the way she screeched with pain and the helpless terrified fury of one who knew they were about to die. He drug her up to her knees, her body limp in his hold. He was grinning, mad and wild, eyes hidden and somehow still he must have cut a horrifying image. Kumiko looked up at him with wide, tearing eyes, blackened blood smeared across her lips and a panicked hiccuping sound coming from her throat. Did you look like this? Did you cry and plead, staring up at her and Jin with silent begging eyes? And did they look back like he did now? Cold. Hating every breath she dared drawn in.

“…And after, she rolls over and says to him, ‘Well, how was it?’”

He was going to make her wish she’d never been born.

“And the guy smiles at her, looks deep into her eyes and says, ‘Help yourself to any prize from the middle shelf.’”

End scene. Curtain.

The plan was falling into place. You’d gotten a call from Nanami not even half an hour earlier, giving you the good news that Kumiko was in custody, currently held at the Tokyo campus and being thoroughly interrogated by Gojo at that very moment. You had to take a cab, avoiding expending your energy and keeping your movements benign and innocuous. Masamichi had even played a role, messaging you with some bullshit excuse to come to campus to settle some last minute affairs before your resignation meeting at the end of the week.

Instead, you had gone from Masamichi’s office directly into the holding cells, finding Nanami and Utahime, waiting outside a locked and warded door.

“What do we know?”

“That spiders can sing.” Utahime said with a smirk, “At least this one does. Gojo barely worked her over for an hour and she gave it up. Jin is based out of Tokyo and as far as we know… he is being harbored by another lesser branch of the Gojo family.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“… none of mine, right?”

“No.” Utahime said, reaching out to soothe her hand over your arm, “No direct relation. But they had a daughter in the running for Gojo’s hand… we… we think it might all be motivated by that. She isn’t involved, but she was one of the prime candidates. It sounds like from what Gojo-sama has provided that this family was even part of the group pressuring him to get Gojo to pick a bride.”

Utahime snorted, “It’s all…it’s all just shitty inheritance drama. Can you believe it? A weapon like Jin that they could have kept and saved for when we might have actually needed him… and they throw him at Gojo because of a marriage that wasn’t even going to happen.”

The truth was supposed to make you feel better. To make you understand who you were up against and why… but all it did was make you bury your face into your hands with a groan, drawing them up over your hair and tangling your fingers into the strands as you pulled at your scalp.

“Spent the greater part of my life refusing this, not wanting anything to do with it… and now I’m suddenly remembering why that was.”

“I’m so sorry, really. This… this shouldn’t be anyones life. I know we’re sorcerers but, this is just fucking ridiculous.” Utahime said, her eyes narrowed, angry. But knowing your friend, her anger was as much directed at Gojo as it was the other families.

“You mean other families don’t have succession schemes and secret special curse-user assassins on stand by?” You said, the joke failing to stick as neither of you laughed.

The door into the interrogation room opened and you barely caught a glimpse of where Kumiko was laid out on her side, back to the door. She was chained up, the walls covered in wards— the floor covered in dark, tacky looking blood. The pale, motionless bodies of what looked to be several hundred spiders dotted across the floor in piles.

Gojo shut the door behind him and despite everything, you took a step forward, arms out-stretched towards him. He put up a stained hand, waved you off.

“Ah ah, no touchy. I’m covered in blood.”

It was hard to see against the dark navy of his uniform, but the smell of it hit you in a wave that nearly made you gag. It wasn’t just coppery, but rotten. Like the blood of a slab of meat left out too long, rancid and maggoty.

“I don’t even know what is keeping her alive. She is half a corpse already from what the Silk Swarm has done to her.”

“Did you exorcise it?”

“Mostly.” Gojo said, “She has a few I left her. Part of the deal. Promised not to kill them off completely if she behaves like a good little piece of bait.”

The word sent a shiver up your spine at the very mention, feeling it throb against your chest as if the wounds were still there. Utahime frowned deeply, looking between Nanami and Gojo with obvious displeasure.

“I don’t understand why you two think he is going to come for her! She was stupid enough to get caught, he probably thinks of her as being good as dead.” Utahime sighed, “He’s like you. Selfish, arrogant and batshit crazy— but not stupid.”

“I hope you’re right.” Gojo said, his lips twitching up into a small smile. That clearly wasn’t the reaction Utahime had been expecting, her own frown twisting into a full scowl.

“Why?”

“Because if he is like me, he will come for her.”

Utahime scoffed, set her fists unto her hips, “How do you figure?”

Gojo’s face angled to yours, eyes hidden behind his mask, but clearly looking directly at you, “Cause no one touches what’s mine and gets away with it.”

All they could do now was wait. Gojo had left a message in the form of a jar of Kumiko’s own distinctive black blood and spider carcasses at the place Jin stayed, an old junkyard and garage near the outskirts of Tokyo. The land itself was owned by the lesser Gojo family who Kumiko had ousted as his supporters. When he wasn’t staying hidden within the very god damn compound near the main house you had lived in years ago with other Gojo descendants, he was working on old motorcycles— sports cars. He had a hobby, funny enough. It was strange to think of someone like him just out living normally, keeping his head down and working on cars.

It was so much easier to think of Jin as some skulking nightmare who sat in a darkened room, scheming his revenge and planning his attacks than thinking he was at all human.

In the meanwhile though, you couldn’t also help but feel relieved. You talked to your parents to let them know what was coming next and felt, as you ended the call, as if an enormous weight had lifted from your back. Jin was lethal on his own, but it was Kumiko’s paralytic technique that had made their partnership deadliest. Without her, he would have only the strength of his own powers to stand on… and you hoped that as long as she was held captive, Jin wouldn’t risk attacking by surprise.

They had a place. A time. An exchange of prisoners set and organized. Kumiko's freedom for Jin. Scheduled now on the same day you were supposed to have your sorcerer status reexamined. It was all a front, both parties knowing exactly what they were really meeting for. A bloodbath, a fight to the death. His or Gojo's or yours. Jin had taken the time to even respond officially, but in what way, Gojo refused to tell you. Even still, you’d heard from some others that Shoko had organized a clean up... getting local police out of the way... disposing of the bodies.

You didn’t want to know what fit Jin had pitched over the loss of his woman.

All you wanted to do was enjoy the fact you were curled up, not in your bed, not on the sofa— but in Gojo’s bed. You’d only seen a glimpse of his room once before, messy and unkempt, but shockingly befitting of the man. That glimpse was no different than the real thing, but you weren’t exactly in a place to be critiquing his decor right now.

Things had moved like a whirlwind, desperate and fast, but it had somehow still felt— special. It was just sex, and yet having it in here? In his space? It felt special. And dangerous, risking now the wrath of everyone who had tried to come between you now that the stage was set and the final match was to unfold. No point in worrying about being murdered now when you were literally going to be face to face with Jin again come the next day, right?

Or it could have just been the fact you were both utterly starved for the other, barely getting your clothes off for the first round, the neighbors no doubt thinking you’d been murdered with how you nearly screamed with relief the moment he’d bottomed out inside you. It had been embarrassingly short. The drag and push of his cock rough and raw as your body was still trying to open, to warm to his touch. It was hard to give a shit though when all you wanted was him to be as close as he could possibly get, legs locked around his waist as you nearly forgot to let up so he could draw away when his orgasm hit him, sudden and fast. He rolled off you with a groan, burying his face under his arm as he caught his breath.

“You’re like a teenager.” You laughed, only to have him suddenly turn and silence your offending mouth with his own. Intense, then lazy. Drawing his tongue in small circles against your own with a soft groan before he bit the offender, sucking down hard until you whimpered before he released.

“I was denied the pleasure of this tight little cunt for nearly a month and you are gonna blame me for busting quick?”

“Only because you barely managed to pull out, you fuckin’ idiot.”

“It’s chill. I calculated the child support figures while I was pumpin’ you. I can afford it.”

Now it was your turn to groan, hating how that self-satisfied grin on his face made your tummy burst with butterflies. You were still woefully unsatisfied, wetter now from his effort, but desperately still in need of your own release. But there were other things, things that people maybe only thought of in times like this… right before what could likely be the end.

And so, feeling brave. Feeling stupid. You turned onto your side and spoke.

“Can I tell you something?” She whispered, so close she took up everything. All his senses. Her sight, her smell, the dip in the futon where her body rested along side his— all that had become his reality in that moment. His world. Six Eyes open and engulfing nothing but her.

“Considering I nearly put a baby in you a minute ago, now would seem like a good time.”

She giggled, buried her face shyly into the pillow and then turned back, hesitant. Nervous. He never wanted to forget that laugh, the light that shined off her skin, sweat like diamonds to his eyes. Flesh reddened and swollen, marred with evidence of his touch, his teeth, his lips.

Mine mine mine—

“...I always see you.” She started and already she had his complete attention, “Not you, you, but your energy. Always. My parents used to tell me that even when I was only a few months old I was such a quiet baby, never fussy… then one day in December I started to cry. Scream absolute bloody murder. And my parents came in to look on me and I was squeezing my eyes shut so tight. So tight.”

She demonstrated, furrowing her brow and squinting her eyelids hard.

“They took me to the doctor and they couldn’t find anything wrong. It wasn’t until I was older I could tell them about the light— the sunspot that shone in my senses, always there. Never dimmed.”

Gojo felt like his heart was going to burst, or stop. He wasn’t sure which, only that either would be a relief compared now to the near throbbing ache that was coursing through his veins. Her hand came to rest on his cheek and now his heart was up in his throat, threatening to spill passed his lips. She opened her eyes and he wondered if this is how people felt when they looked into his own.

“… I’ve known you my whole life. I knew you before we met. Before I had the presence of mind to know anyone. You were with me.”

She paused, “I still see it now. Even when I shut my eyes. I feel you there— a never setting sun. And I hated you for the longest time because of that… I really did. We’re the only Limitless users alive, so I can’t tell you if it is just a bi-product of some genetic bullshit, or what… but I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know.”

She was waiting. Heart in her hand. Waiting for him to break it or toss it aside and he should have said something funny, something flippant. Something gross and callous and dismissive but instead he reached out and rested his hand on her cheek. Palm warm against her skin.

There weren’t— there just weren’t words for this kind of thing. So he pressed his useless, wordless mouth to the column of her throat, between her breasts— rolled her beneath him and trailed open kisses down her stomach and across her hips. She parted her thighs without needing to be told and he tells himself that is why he doesn’t tease her. Doesn’t do anything except suck her into his mouth, tongue seeking the spot that will have her dripping and splitting like a ripened peach.

She ran both her hands through his hair, knotted her fingers in it and pulled until his eyes stung. Her back arched off the bed, hips moving, bucking. He held her down, slid his hands under her knees and forced them up and apart and leaned over her, bowed between her thighs— he felt her pulsing, heat flooding over his tongue. He wouldn’t stop. He didn’t ever want to stop and her first orgasm slid right into the next with a helpless whimper.

Her hands slid away as he sat up, holding her hips forward just far enough for her to get a good view of where she is glistening and swollen, skin puffy and soft— and of his tongue, gathering up a nice thick wad of his saliva and her cum only to let it slide off the tip and back unto her cunt.

“You want another, sweet girl?”

“Satoru …I… I can’t…”

“But you will.”

And she did. Again and again, on his tongue, his fingers, his cock. He worked her out, wrung her dry, bit his signature into the soft skin of her thigh— took the cum that he painted over her pussy and smeared it over her lips, pushed it into her mouth. She sucked on his fingers, moaned around them and he held her tongue beneath them while he slid back inside and rode her until all that spilled from him was foam.

He gave and he gave and he gave— until he was empty and she was full. It was the most of himself he had ever given to another person. Anyone else would have broken by now, but not her. Not her. She was Limitless and latched together, mouth to mouth, groin to groin they made an infinity that no one could ever rend apart.

And after, drunk on the very taste of her and thoroughly exhausted, his brain felt hazy— sleepy even.

“Shower.” She mumbled and Gojo leaned down so she could wrap her arms around his neck, gathered her up, tangled sheets and all and carried her into the bathroom. The Six Eyes was already doing its magic of reviving him, his touch sure but gentle as he set her down on wobbling legs and tugged the ruined sheet off her.

“You good?” He asked, the moment he deposited you down on the cool tile floor, voice inching into an amused chuckle. You blinked up at him heavily when he didn’t follow you into the shower.

“You’re not coming inside?”

“I already did. Multiple times.”

If you had the energy to swat him, you would have, instead you heaved a sigh and moved to turn on the shower stream. You’d have to take a trip to the drugstore to handle that lapse in judgment soon— on his dime, of course.

“And I don’t think much washing will get done if I get in there with you.”

“No more— just need to shower then sleep for… like a hundred years.” You gave him as much of a puppy dog look as you could manage, “You could help me.”

“It would be very gallant of me to, wouldn’t it? Especially since I got cum in your hair.”

You scowled, raking your fingers through and finding he was right. Your hair had clumped together in a few spots, sticky and musky smelling. You immediately stepped under the water, the warmth spraying over your skin and washing the linger remnants of the past few hours away.

Arms wrapped around your middle, lifted you and moved you a little bit away as Gojo slid into the shower. He crowded you purposefully, pressing your tummy and your breasts against the cold tile wall, your back trapped against his chest. You whined, wiggled and he relented, letting you turn to face him.

His hair was damp, rivets of water running over his shoulders and down over his chest. Maybe it was the bright, unforgiving lights of the bathroom, or maybe it was the incredibly thorough and world shattering fucking he had laid on you— or maybe it was just the impossible blue of his eyes and the smile that always seemed to linger at the corner of his lips… but you felt your pulse thrum to life and your fingers itch with the urge to touch him. But not in the way you had before— no.

“Pass me the soap.” You said and he obliged, handing over some small dark bottle that looked foreign and probably cost as much as some people’s car payments— the dollop you dropped into your hand smelled like it too. Gojo ran his hand through his hair, rinsing it under the stream and half turning away from you.

“Ah ah, get back here.” You chided and those blue eyes turned back to you with a bemused expression. You rubbed your hands together, lathered the soap and barely registered his quiet mutter of “What are you doing?” Before your hands were running up over his sides, across his stomach. He flexed, or flinched, the touch light and no doubt ticklish.

You moved up over his chest, across his shoulders, ignoring the way he was staring openly at you… as if the very concept of you washing him was utterly mind shattering. Your chest pressed to his as you stood up to draw your hands over the back of his neck, breasts sliding over the dips and curves of his own body.

A body you were lovingly caressing— intimate, yet passionless. Sexless. It wasn’t until you slid your fingers between his, rubbing suds over the tops of his hands that you finally looked at his face… and what you saw nearly cleaved your heart in two.

Gojo Satoru looked positively wrecked.

He’d ridden you to an inch of his own life, let you pull and demand more of him physically than any other lover had ever done— and now, standing here in the same water, your hands upon him with no agenda, no need other than to take care of him?

All those curses, all those battles, and this is what was going to kill him— taking a shower with someone who loved him.

Who loved him.

Who loved him.

And he knew. He saw it. Saw the moment you knew it. Six Eyes noting all the tell tale signals of your affection, plastered so open on your face like a god damn idiot. You wanted to run. You wanted to shove him away. Flight or fight kicking into gear as your heart spasmed and fluttered like a trapped bird in the cage of your ribs.

Why were you so scared? Because he might not love you back? Because you could die tomorrow having never told him? Never taking that risk? You parted your lips, but no sound came out. The rush of water deafening, the steam building up until you weren’t sure if the haze in your vision was from that or from the fact you were going to literally pass out under the weight of realizing you were in love with Gojo Satoru.

So caught up were you in your own head, you flinched when he raised his hand, taking your wrist into it, turning it up. Then, with his other, slowly, eyes on yours… he traced a symbol into your wrist. You stared down at his hand, watched the looping figure eight he drew over and over.

Infinity.

“You.” Gojo said, his voice raspy, rugged. His finger did one loop.

“And me.” He traced the final loop that completed the infinity.

“You and me.” He said again and you felt as if the sun was no longer shining from him but from inside you. All encompassing and bright, filling your chest until you worried the light would come pouring from your mouth.

“Always was gonna be.” He said, gripping your hand tight in both of his, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. We got people to kill in the morning.”

Chapter Text

It was fitting the meeting was back where this had started— the clearing in the wooded area right outside of Tamba-Sasayama. The place where the assassins had first made themselves known and taken the Six Eyes himself by surprise.

Now it was your territory. Mapped and committed to memory, both yours and Gojo’s. Kumiko was silent, bound, her hair messy and the corner of her lip cracked with dried black blood. She looked ghastly to begin with, but spending time under the care of sorcerers being what she was— a criminal, a murderer who bent to the whims of a spirit— had not been easy on her.

Her children were still unfed, their displeasure made obvious by the deterioration of her body and the weakening of her energy. She wore a blindfold, a concession you had forced Gojo to make.

He had wanted to cut her eyes out. Prevent the Empty Eyes from using her to lower one of their power levels to her own rapidly diminishing one… but it felt unnecessarily cruel. Excessively inhumane… even if perhaps she did deserve the suffering she had been more than happy to impart on others. Kumiko kneeled, arms bound behind her back at Gojo’s feet, a chain in his hand and his other tucked lazily in his pocket.

You were out of sight. Energy suppressed. Gojo had been able to teleport right to the spot, while you had to hike the four-five hours directly in. You could hardly complain, the extra effort was worth the blisters. You couldn’t even let your reversal take care of the tiny cuts, not wanting to risk registering a single drop on Jin’s senses.

Gojo had insisted the two of you go alone, a fact that had barely passed Nanami and Utahime’s approval. It was simple, they could either sit it out and know where the trade was going down, or they could refuse and you two would sneak off and leave them holding the bag. In Gojo’s words, they would only be a liability, another thing for him to have to protect and worry over. Which had earned him a near beat down from Utahime and the sourest of looks from Nanami. Regardless, they had agreed to the other request under the specific terms that Gojo had a plan.

Or rather, another gamble. One you were becoming increasingly more frightened would never work. He wouldn’t share it with them, no one but you, a rare change given his usual modus operandi. You had to convince Nanami and Utahime it would work, even as you yourself began to doubt.

It was too late now anyway.

There was a waver, a slight increase in cursed energy, as if a heat-mirage had settled in the air and from it walked the figure of Jin. He had a lit cigarette already between his teeth, shucking off his coat with a sigh and dropping it to the ground.

Inside, you could see the very warding papers you had suspected. He didn’t need it now.

“Oh, kid… look at what he did to ya, huh?” Jin said and you swore there was genuine hurt in his expression as he looked at Kumiko. She could not return his gaze, but she could have spoken. She did not.

“So this is how we do things, huh Gojo?”

“This is how you do things, Jinny. I’m just following your lead.” Gojo replied. He kept his own blindfold on too, lowering his ability to use Hollow technique or his domain for present, but hopefully keeping from being hit by the Unimportance.

“Ah— that sweet little thing, right. Gotta hurt, but can you blame her? Poor thing is just tryin’ to keep herself alive. Why don’t you let both these girls go and just satisfy yourself with your usual meaningless fucks.”

He took in a drag, blew out the smoke, “You got options. Bet you redownloaded every hook-up app available not even a day after your engagement ended, eh?”

Jin chuckled, “I don’t judge. A piece of ass like that is choice , but a man needs his options. Besides, in the end all we got is what we got, yeah? No sense in monogamy, no sense in anything.”

The air felt oppressive, a strange sensation buzzing in your ears. A tiredness. Jin was already tapping into his ability, trying to weaken Gojo, burden him under the concept of meaninglessness.

Gojo, as usual, just smiled.

“Is that why you came and talked to her?”

“Ah— is that what this is about? You take my girl cause I tried to take yours? Did she show you? Huh? The thing I carved on her chest?”

Gojo was doing a very good job of keeping himself in check. Meanwhile you were fraying at the ends, anger boiling up and threatening to expose you. You took a deep breath, let the anger wash over you— let yourself think of the lake, the deep, quiet coldness of the water.

“I wanted to put my initials on her, but Kumiko wouldn’t let me. And this is how you repay her?” Jin sighed, “I told them we shoulda just killed your little wife. Or at least made it so she’d never breed.”

“You got much more of this banter? Or we gonna trade off?” Gojo snapped, his grin more snarl than smile, “But I guess if you don’t have any interest in her…”

He curled the chain around his hand, gave it a yank. Kumiko yelped, arms pulling in their sockets. You remembered that feeling yourself, how she had given it to you and let whatever sympathy you felt in her plight die under memories of that pain.

Jin wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You know I don’t. I’m here for you, Six Eyes. And you only.”

“Ahh! How embarrassing… you confessin’ to me sweetheart? I mean, you aren’t hard on the eyes…”

They could have been related, matching feral grins, sharp and furious, the eyes behind Gojo’s mask no doubt as intense and ferocious as Jin’s.

“I wouldn’t say no if you wanted one last request— I got a thing for cute little guys like you.”

“Uh-oh, two tops! Whatever will we do?”

“Damn… well. Guess we go back to plan one.”

Kumiko was forgotten, the two men falling into a flurry of attacks. Gojo was the faster of them, reading movements before they even completed and using Jin’s momentum against him. You felt the impact of the cursed energy in the air, the explosion of power as Empty Eyes went head to head with Six Eyes.

Now you could feel the enormity of the cursed energy Jin kept hidden inside himself. Endless, seemingly, but not in the face of Gojo. Not in the face of the Limitless. Jin had his limit, they all did. And Gojo would find it.

It took more time than you two had thought for Jin to begin trying to reach Kumiko. His one source of weakened energy in the vicinity. It was obvious why he had asked for her, and had made it seem he would be willing to trade. He needed someone damaged and drained to use his Unimportance with. To make Gojo weak and helpless. But getting around Gojo was a near impossibility and soon enough, Gojo was laughing, disappointment evident in his voice.

“Oh c’mon! I was hoping for a fight of the ages! This is just boring. Obvious and boring.”

Jin grinned, spit blood into the dirt and wiped the corner of his mouth roughly. Gojo stopped smiling as Jin’s cuts sealed, bruises diminishing. It shouldn’t have been a surprise at all that someone like the Empty Eyes had mastered reversal, but the fact it had used so little energy?

That you had not expected. 

They were close to evenly matched, but only just. Gojo remained the strongest, the inevitable conclusion simply being drawn out as Jin fought against him with all he had. Kumiko shifted, moving herself away from them, trying to pull free of her bindings.

And that is where you came in. Right as Jin neared, his eyes flashing, wild with the belief he had gotten through an opening— you were there, half twisted above, coming down with a whip of force as you kicked his head right into the dirt.

Infinity flaring up, you knocked Kumiko away with little finesse, but with high effectiveness. When Jin recovered, his eyes turned on you not with the amused predatory grin he had shown Gojo, but with unmasked fury.

“Gotcha.” You said with a grin, eyes meeting his. Something flashed over his expression, wild and feral— and then you felt it leaving. Felt your cursed energy pouring from you like sand in a clenched hand. 

You barely had the strength to turn, to see Kumiko laying on the ground, the blindfold pushed up over one eye— staring right at Jin. You tried to calm yourself, tell yourself this was all according to plan. This is what you’d been waiting for.

Cursed Technique: Unimportance.

“Gotcha .” Jin repeated your words— time feeling as if it had slowed. Jin was right there, his hand drawing back, pulled into a clawed shape— aimed right for your chest. His other hand had you by the hair, holding you in place as the strike came down— the world slowing around you, the moment seemingly lasting a lifetime. He was going to rip your heart out. Splatter you across the field. 

And then, Gojo was there. Right between you, Infinity blazing, ready to dodge off Jin’s attack against his own barrier with an ease of movement that made him nearly impossible to follow— blink and you’d miss it.

This had to work. It had to. Because if it didn’t, you were going to have to explain to the sorcerer world how you got Gojo Satoru killed.

“Domain Expansion…” Jin said, a triumphant smile on his face, “Curse of Equality.”

The cursed energy went out like a blown match in all four of you. Kumiko sputtered, her black blood now red, the loss of the energy her children provided meaning there was nothing left keeping her alive.

But before the light could go from her eyes, Jin would use her one last time.

The moment his fist connected to Jin he knew— this was all going to go according to plan.

His energy, which should have been made even more Limitless by the Six Eyes, all his abilities and techniques fueled by minimal output— was waning. Even without the Unimportance technique active, simply combating the Empty Eyes it seemed was enough to make even him falter.

The energy that poured off of Jin was… oppressive to say the least. Eating away at the corners of Gojo’s vision, running thoughts through his head, distracting and off putting. His own voice seemed to whisper in his head how useless this was, how boring, how tedious. None of this even mattered in the end… the higher-ups would keep scheming their dirty schemes, her life would always be in danger and nothing would ever be simple. Nothing in the life you might share together would ever be peaceful.

And with a grin, Gojo thought back against that voice: good.

Peaceful was boring. Peaceful was tedious. He wanted you, sharp edges and all. Cause you’d always win, the two of you would always win. He was the strongest. And so were you.

So let Jin sap his strength. Let him tenderize him and soften him up, prepping for the inevitable shitshow that awaited Gojo when Jin fired off that Unimportance technique. He wanted him to. He dared him too by bringing Kumiko here at all. The weakest chain in the link. The woman who no doubt would do anything to see him suffer after he’d taken such great joy in ripping the legs off her little spider babies one by one.

He’d told her he wouldn’t exorcise the rest. He lied, and she knew it.

So let them come. Let them all come. Let them think themselves the winners. They looked at him and you the way everyone did… the heir and the spare. The Six Eyes and the leftovers, useless and inconsequential against the vastness of what Gojo could accomplish. And Jin loved that shit didn’t he? Ate it right up. Unimportance. That was his gift and his downfall.

If Jin had half a brain, he would have known Gojo let himself be taken in. Let himself risk it all to save you. And as the blindfold ripped from his face and his power vanished, vision going near blurry with the sudden loss of all his grand, far-reaching sight, Gojo wondered if Jin saw him smile.

This was going to hurt.

But you were ready.

Jin’s arm slid straight through, Infinity falling into nothing between them beneath his domain. His hand grabbed hold of Gojo’s blindfold and tore it from his face. Their eyes met.

And then in that same second it was over— but now Gojo was face to face with him… Kumiko on her side staring up at her lover with nothing but hatred in her rapidly fading eyes. By Gojo’s hand or Jin’s, she had to have known this was the only outcome left for her.

You felt your cursed energy explode back within you as the Unimportance technique shifted targets, the binding slipping, jumping to another. This is all according to plan.

Thinking that didn’t stop the scream of shock that ripped from your throat as Jin’s arm tore through Gojo’s chest and ripped out his back. He was lucky Jin didn’t take his spine with his fist, the rupture just beneath his heart, splintering back ribs and sending blood flooding over the ground in a geyser of heat. The scent of blood so overpowering on the air for a moment you gagged on it.

One teleported step. You shoved forward, the lapse blue that popped off from you as inherent and powerful as the one you had mistakenly erupted in the middle of Kyoto Tech. You caught Gojo as his legs went out from under him, a wet, stunned laugh escaping his collapsing lungs as you teleported yourselves barely any distance away.