Archive of Our Own ^beta

They line the jujutsu sorcerers up one by one, much like how pigs are sent up for slaughter.

Under these very circumstances, they might as well be. Suguru doesn’t really think there’s much of a difference.

But all things considered, he’s still relatively new to the world of sorcery; and so the fearsome reputation and formidable status of the Gojo clan continues to elude him, for the better or for the worse.

He sees the way his fellow peers nervously bow their heads and keep their eyes glued to their feet, all the while shaking furiously in their boots. He sees the rest of the staff, including Yaga-sensei, their principal, and all of the elders whose existence he had only ever heard of in passing but never ever seen in person, finally emerge from the shadows to grace their campus grounds on this sacred day, and thinks to himself: perhaps the real magnitude of it all is still lost on him.

For why would a mere visit from a ten-year-old strike such terror into everyone’s hearts, to the extent that not a single soul has dared to lift their gaze above eye-level—since the esteemed Gojo clan entourage arrived on their premises?

Yaga-sensei hadn’t provided them with any information prior to the visit. He might have been too afraid to divulge more than what was absolutely necessary, or he might have been kept in the dark himself until the very last moment. Regardless, none of them were aware of the true purpose behind the Gojo clan’s visit.

They only know that an official order was issued by the Gojo clan, and as per unspoken rule and tradition, had no choice but to obey and be present.

Suguru’s far from being a disobedient person; he has always been one to follow rules. A stickler for them, even. But under these unusual circumstances, it is perhaps his blissful ignorance and innocent curiosity that leaves his gaze wandering at the sudden entrance of the imposing Gojo clan heir, even while everyone else keeps their heads fearfully lowered.

Glistening like polished sapphires, those wide blue eyes lock onto his with such shivering intensity—obnoxiously demanding attention from Suguru and gripping him in ways he still can’t fathom to this day.

At just seventeen-years-old, Suguru already stands at an impressive height despite being an omega, towering over most of his female peers. And yet, the child—clearly an alpha, there was no mistaking it—exuded such dominance and authority with a single posture that it compelled Suguru to wish to retreat and shrink himself underneath that commanding gaze.

For from the moment their eyes met, the kid never—ever—looked away from him again.

Suguru exhales sharply, and feels as though he has just sealed his fate.

Without the slightest flinch, smile, or emotion on his face, the white-haired child raises his finger.

Resolute and unwavering, as if he ever needed only a fraction of a second to make his decision.

“Him,” Gojo Satoru barks in a loud declaration, his voice resounding as though the world were his kingdom and everyone else his mere pawns. “I want him.”

Very quickly, members of the Gojo clan flurry about him in a frenzied manner, as if to eagerly express their gratitude, and worship him profusely, for his astute decision.

It was only then that Suguru learned that in Gojo Satoru’s world, his word was absolute. If he desired something, it became his. If he deemed you insignificant, your existence held no worth. People kissed the very ground that he walked.

In the world of jujutsu, Gojo Satoru was God.

Suguru remains entirely unaware of what has just transpired or what he has just been chosen for. However, when he casts a glance toward Yaga-sensei and sees the unmistakable guilt in his eyes, a sickening sensation knots his stomach, and he thinks: this can’t be any good.

Standing next to him, Shoko seizes his hand as if to plead with him silently: Don’t go.

But even she remains miniscule, in the grand scheme of things.

With the Gojo clan heir’s decision made, the child awaits to see if anyone dares oppose him.

But anyone who values their life would think twice before challenging the Gojos. Especially when a small fry like Suguru is concerned.

Yaga-sensei steps forward, if only to ease the tension.

“Of course, Gojo-sama,” he says to the child, with a heavy heart. “This is one of my students, Geto Suguru. We will gather his belongings and have him ready to depart with you immediately. Please allow us a moment.”

“Hm,” Gojo Satoru responds with a grunt, maintaining that stiff lip of his that never smiles. He grants Yaga-sensei permission, with a condescending glance that barely meets his eye. “Do what you have to. We leave at sundown.”

He gives Suguru one last unimpressed look, leaving the man to wonder if the Gojo heir is already regretting his decision.

Without saying anything further, Gojo Satoru simply walks away, leaving his attendants to scurry after him, their clothes already damp with nervous sweat.

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The purpose of the Gojo clan's visit becomes clearer to Suguru as Yaga-sensei drones on to him while he packs.

For reasons unbeknownst to them, the Gojos wish to hire for their cherished son a caretaker. A guardian, of sorts.

“A babysitter?” Suguru musters a joke, even as the grim reality of his impending fate begins to dawn on him. “I am under no illusion that I can be a bodyguard for him.” They’d already made several concessions for him, accepting him as a jujutsu sorcerer despite his status as an omega. What would the next Six Eyes need him for?

“Well, yes,” Yaga-sensei says, with furrowed brows. “However, given their son’s nature, they’d still prefer to hire someone who knows jujutsu—and to their son’s liking. In the event of attempted kidnappings, and there have already been a few, your skills would come in handy to defend him.”

Huh. Would it really? Suguru humours him, and decides to ask, “How did those end?”

“How did those… What?”

“The kidnappings. Did they end badly?” Suguru questions. “Did he get hurt? Is that why he’d want me?”

Yaga-sensei bites his tongue. “No,” he admits, knowing his answers would give the truth away. “Every single one of those who tried to kidnap him was found dead in a ditch.”

Suguru’s smile fades, as he packs the last of his things.

That bad, huh?

“Sensei,” he asks, like it’s an after-thought. Like he isn’t already contemplating his demise under the hands of that blue-eyed menace of a boy. “I’m going to get out of this alive… right?”

Suguru has no roots in the jujutsu world; if anything happened to him, erasing every trace of him from this realm would be very easy.

Who would bother looking for an omega civilian like him? People like him disappeared all the time.

“I have heard it is only temporary,” Yaga-sensei sighs, as if it’s any consolation. “We don’t know how long they’ll need you for, but it can’t be forever. In any case, consider this an extended vacation; you will not be assigned any missions until the Gojos release you back into our care. Who knows when you’ll get a chance like this again? Besides, you were getting tired, right? I know the missions have been taking a toll on you.”

Suguru hadn’t vocalised his discontent of late out loud, but it appears that Yaga-sensei was perceptive enough to discern it before he did. Either way, he was right. Suguru had not been feeling like himself lately, and maybe this was a blessing in disguise.

Even if he’s not exactly certain being a glorified babysitter for the next Six Eyes would be any better, he at least had to give it a try.

(Not that he had any real choice.)

“Sensei, just let me say my goodbyes to Shoko and the others before I go.”

“Alright. But don’t keep the kid waiting for too long.”

Now that Suguru has seen Gojo Satoru in the flesh?

He wouldn’t dream of it.

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To his surprise, as he makes his way toward the black chauffeured car where he had expected Gojo Satoru to be seated, he finds the kid standing patiently by the car door, waiting for him.

“Hello,” Suguru greets the child, then immediately wonders if he has been a tad too informal, and if he should have added a reverent “Gojo-sama” at the end of his greeting, similar to how Yaga-sensei had addressed him.

But the white-haired kid doesn’t seem too bothered by all that—another pleasant surprise.

“The servants will help you with your bags,” Gojo Satoru remarks, as he gestures impatiently for his attendants to unload Suguru, of what little he has, as his luggage. “Get in.”

“Oh, okay,” Suguru says, like a sheep that has to be told what to do. He hadn’t thought he’d be riding with the clan heir right away, but it made sense. He’d been assigned to be his guardian after all, and technically he was already on the clock. Still, shouldn’t the child be the one getting in first for his safety…? “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

“Get in,” Gojo Satoru commands.

Suguru scrambles into the car, not wanting to test the boy’s limits. Isn’t he too feisty for a ten year old? It must be nice growing up in a world where your word was law.

Gojo Satoru climbs in after him, rebuffing all attempts at help like a kid desperate to prove himself capable of taking care of himself. He doesn’t close his own door, though, because he never has to. Someone always does it for him, and this time, a bodyguard locks it from the outside.

Curiously enough, now that they are all settled in the car, Suguru notices that the partition walls are up, affording the two of them complete privacy.

“Do you always have it up?” Suguru asks. The car is huge and spacious, and it seems like such a risk. “It’s safer if the driver can see you.”

“I asked for it to be up this time,” Gojo Satoru informs him, his tone matter-of-fact and his nose slightly upturned as he speaks. “I thought you’d prefer the privacy.”

Suguru isn’t entirely sure why, but the realisation that the immensely powerful Gojo clan heir had been considerate of his needs, even though they were but mere strangers to each other, warmed his heart. In any case, he has always had a soft spot for children. He’s not sure why he thought Gojo Satoru would be an exception to that, no matter how terrifying he looks.

Suguru’s face beams, as his eyes and lips crinkle prettily into a smile. “Why, thank you.”

Gojo Satoru startles, as though he hadn’t expected to be met with such a genuine response. Those ocean-blue eyes of his shimmer, like they’d never seen anything so sincere.

Feeling his face grow hot, the kid quickly averts his eyes.

“Lap,” he asks.

Suguru blinks. Once, and then twice just to be sure. “Huh?”

“Lap,” Gojo Satoru orders. “Now.”

Suguru follows the direction of the child’s gaze and notices that Gojo Satoru has become unusually fixated on his thighs. Still dressed in his jujutsu high uniform, Suguru can’t help but wonder if Gojo Satoru, who is clad in the finest silken dragonfly kimono, was loudly disapproving of his choice of attire.

However, just as Suguru pats his thighs and is about to jest about his unfortunate choice of uniform, the child blissfully misinterprets his actions as an invitation. Gojo Satoru promptly cosies up to Suguru, resting his head happily on Suguru’s thighs and making himself as comfortable as he deems fit.

Suguru's eyes widen as he connects the dots and finally makes sense of what the child had been demanding for earlier.

What a sly child...!

They’ve known each other for a mere ten minutes, and already that big head of his has claimed possession of his thighs!

Now, having the partition wall up makes sense.

He most likely didn’t want any of his servants to see him like this!

At the heart of it all, their infallible young master is still a child.

“You could have just asked,” Suguru mumbles to himself. He’s smiling, though, as if he’s helpless against the antics of such an impudent child. “So, it turns out that the fearsome Gojo-sama still needs his nap time, eh?”

“Pffft,” Gojo Satoru retorts. But he can’t bring himself to protest anymore. His head fits so snugly within Suguru’s thighs, and the warmth Suguru radiates feels so nice…

“It’s Satoru to you.”

“Mmm?”

“Not Gojo-sama,” Gojo Satoru—no, Satoru—insists, as he fidgets restlessly against Suguru’s legs. “Call me Satoru.”

Everything that comes out of his mouth sounds like an order, but Suguru knows better now. Reading in between the lines, he can already tell Satoru is warming up to him, how cute! Suguru’s really starting to like this kid. Why does he only act so adorable when no one else is watching them?

Suguru sings, “Alright, Satoru~”

And then it comes again, like cold water in his face: “Scratch my head.”

Suguru’s almost regretting his previous train of thought. “Wha—?”

Satoru grumbles, and decides to take matters into his own hands this time. He gets up, firmly takes hold of Suguru’s thin wrist, places his hand insistently atop of his white head of hair, before sinking back down against Suguru’s lap again.

“Scratch my head,” Satoru growls out, fed up.

Suguru would burst out laughing if he could. He’d never met a boy so determined to be coddled!

“Hmm,” Suguru hums to himself in agreement, as he begins gently scratching at Satoru’s hair.

Maybe it’s because he’s an omega? Since the child is a budding alpha, there must be some inherent biology at play. It’s natural for alphas to find comfort in an omega’s touches, even though most people commonly believe the opposite. Satoru wouldn’t find such solace in Suguru’s touches otherwise, leaning into them like a severely dehydrated animal taking to water.

(Even if Suguru hasn’t had his first heat yet, he is sure he is on the cusp of it; nevermind that he’s already considerably late, compared to his peers.)

Perhaps this is the real reason Satoru has demanded for a guardian of his own?

“Does your mother do this often for you?” Suguru asks, wondering if this head-scratching business was just something Satoru had grown accustomed to for comfort.

But Satoru must have already fallen asleep, because he doesn’t answer.

Suguru doesn’t stop caressing his hair, though. He’s too afraid of waking Satoru up from his peaceful slumber.

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Upon reaching the Gojo family estate—let’s call a spade a spade, it’s more a mansion than a traditional Japanese home, really—the servants warmly greet their young master and promptly whisk Suguru away to have him dressed appropriately for their young master’s company.

“Aha,” Suguru whips around to wag a finger at Satoru. “I knew you hated my uniform!”

Satoru wrinkles his nose again in reply, which says just about enough, really. Tipping on his toes, he utters stern instructions into a servant’s ear. Suguru can’t make the words out except for ‘silk’ and ‘just like mother’, but he’s about to discover what they mean.

(They usher him to a bath filled with goat’s milk, and push and prod him into expensive silk garments that are worth as much as an entire year of a Grade one jujutsu sorcerer’s salary.

Suguru’s skin has never been draped in anything so luxuriously soft in all of his seventeen years!)

They leave Suguru’s hair alone, thankfully; it seems that his choice of hair bun is good enough to meet their imaginary Gojo clan standards, whatever they may be.

By the time they’ve managed to dress him in a kimono sophisticated enough for their liking, a rich dark purple to complement the violet of his eyes, it’s already dinnertime.

Suguru is guided to the dining room where their young master is already seated and waiting, wearing the most uninterested expression on his face.

However, the minute Suguru pulls apart those paper sliding doors and enters the room, those stunning cerulean eyes of Satoru’s widen with renewed energy, as if Suguru is the absolute highlight of his day.

Powerful he may be, but there are moments when even he cannot hide the child within.

“Suguru-san,” Satoru clumsily greets, having never had to muster such formalities with anyone else before. But with Suguru, it seems the kid makes an effort, despite Suguru not insisting on it. Sparing a glance at Suguru’s kimono, he looks uncharacteristically pleased. With the demeanour of an arrogant young master, he bestows upon Suguru a rare compliment: “The colour suits you.”

So, the boy knows to be polite!

Suguru gracefully takes his seat before him, having always enjoyed the elegance that came with wearing kimonos. “It’s been a while since I wore one, but I’ve always liked them.”

“Really?” Satoru says, absorbing every word. He leans over the table, like he’s trying to devour everything that Suguru tells him. “Then, you’ll be expected to wear one everyday from now on.”

“Eh?” Suguru responds with, stifling a laugh. Smiling at the kid, he cracks a joke with him. “Ah, it’s going to be like this with Satoru-san from now on, isn’t it? You see something you like, and it becomes an order? Have you ever thought to ask for something instead of simply demanding it?”

Satoru stares back at him with vacant eyes, as though he could never comprehend doing such a thing.

“There isn’t a point.”

Suguru’s smile widens. “Says who?”

That actually gives the kid pause. Satoru says in a bored tone, “I don’t ask, because it’s redundant. Everyone here does as I say.”

“Ehh, Satoruuu, life doesn’t have much meaning if it continues like that, doesn’t it?”

Satoru purses his lip. He has definitely thought of this before, by the looks of it. It seems like it’s hitting a raw spot.

“It doesn’t.”

Suguru decides to go about it more delicately. “Then,” he sings, trying to appeal to the child with a much gentler voice. “Would you try posing a question next time, instead of a demand? At least with me? We’re supposed to be close from now on, aren’t we?”

“Alright,” Satoru acquiesces, looking down at his hands. When Suguru speaks to him in such a sing-song voice like that, it almost makes him shy. Not that he’d ever outwardly show it, though.

“But, I think my life will already have more meaning from now on.”

“Oh?” Suguru answers, intrigued. “Why is that so?”

“Suguru-san is here,” Satoru bluntly says. “And for the first time in a long time, I’m not having dinner alone. So, today already has more meaning than yesterday. For me.”

The thing about ten-year-old Gojo Satoru was: he spoke as he thought, with his honest emotions laid bare on his face. Initially, Suguru had assumed the boy to be stoic and reserved, but he was starting to realise that it wasn’t a matter of Satoru masking his emotions, no; rather, he hadn’t ever been taught to feel any otherwise in the first place. In simpler terms, the concept of happiness was foreign to him.

Gojo Satoru didn’t understand what it meant to be happy.

Suguru was beginning to understand why he’d wanted a caretaker so badly.

He was just so lonely.

He didn’t seem like he hung out with peers his age. His manner of speaking was excessively mature, suggesting otherwise. Perhaps his family background made it difficult for him to socialise freely with others, and the only people allowed in his company were those who had been vetted by the Gojo clan beforehand?

Suguru himself had been cleared by the higher-ups, after all.

“Hey, Satoru,” Suguru says softly, like he would to any friend. Bending over the table, he reaches both of his hands over to grasp at Satoru’s plump fingers, intertwining them together. “I think I’d like that. Having dinner with you every night. And more, if you will have me.”

Technically, Suguru doesn’t have a say in the situation. As long as Satoru wanted him here, he would remain here. But he thought that letting Satoru know he was gladly staying out of his own volition would alleviate some of the loneliness in the child’s heart, even if only for a bit.

No kid should feel so lonely. Not at this age; Satoru was too young for that. Even when he was ten, Suguru was surrounded by friends. Classmates. He was loved, even back then.

With their hands firmly interlocked, Satoru finally musters the courage to raise his gaze back up at him, while chewing on his lip.

Huh, Suguru thinks. Had no one dared to hold a gaze with Satoru long enough to make out the gnawing pain behind the thick blue walls he had put up?

That’s okay. Suguru will be the first.

And if Suguru’s guess is correct, it’s likely that Satoru’s parents are not very involved in his life either.

How could someone born so impossibly powerful and strong—be, in actuality, so small and lonely?

“Satoru, why don’t you tell me the things you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the chance to? We’ll make a list, and we’ll start doing all of them starting tomorrow.”

Satoru can hardly conceal his excitement. Given that he has to maintain the icy demeanour of a pompous young master though, he only allows himself to let out a rigid and contained, “Okay.”

“Don’t hold back, alright?”

“I won’t.”

Suguru grins, now that he sees Satoru gradually warming up to him. “Hey, while you’re at it, can you also tell me why you chose me out of all the others? Was it because you knew I’d be more fun as a playmate?”

Satoru appears offended by the insinuation. “...No. And Suguru-san is not a playmate.”

“Oh, too much teasing for one night? Well, whenever Satoru is ready, I’m all ears~”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” those big blue eyes snap right back at him, squeezing his hands stubbornly. “I am not a child!”

“Eh? Satoruuu, you get so mad so easily!”

“I so do not!”

The night continued on with much laughter and play-fighting, drawing out a side of Suguru he didn’t know still existed.

Yaga-sensei was right; perhaps this may just be the vacation Suguru so badly needs, after everything.

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But the Six-Eyed child commands fear amongst those who serve him and for good reason, and Suguru soon comes to learn why.

The esteemed heir adheres to a strict daily schedule, attending a multitude of classes including but not limited to fencing, combat, literature, music, history. As his guardian, Suguru accompanies him to all of these classes, granting him the rare opportunity to meet jujutsu experts from all walks of life. The Gojo clan only ever hires the best for their child’s education, after all. Much to his delight, Suguru is able to introduce himself to each and every one of them, knowing their paths would never cross otherwise. And so while Satoru engages in class, Suguru happily networks with his mentors, learning just as much as Satoru does from their instruction.

Satoru notices this, and is not happy about it.

Suguru’s almost too happy to be speaking with them—bestowing upon them smiles that should belong exclusively to him.

It is during a fencing class, when Suguru is engrossed in a deep conversation with his instructor, a middle-aged man with a long beard and twinkling eyes, that Satoru abruptly yelps mid-lesson to grab Suguru’s attention.

Hopping on one leg, Satoru attempts a bad impression of what he thinks a limp might look like.

“I hurt myself,” Satoru proclaims, hobbling over.

“Oh, dear,” Suguru immediately says, worriedly getting on his knees just to inspect his cut.

In his hands, Satoru’s still gripping his fencing sword. Even with a blunt tip, the edges of his sword are coated with blood.

His instructor knows better. Scrutinising him, he comments, “This is the first time you’ve ever hurt yourself.”

“I guess my hand slipped,” Satoru says, without so much as a flinch.

“The sword is blunt. It would have required brute force to draw blood.”

“Ha,” Satoru responds, daring his sensei to question him any further. “Why would I stab myself? I wouldn’t stab myself out of nowhere. With force. Repeatedly. What kind of psychopath would I have to be to do that?”

His instructor stares right back at him, doing his best to keep his jaw from dropping at the self-proclaimed psychopath.

Suguru’s already looking for bandages, his forehead creasing with worry. “Satoru, this looks bad. You poor thing, does it hurt?”

As if on cue, Satoru whimpers, then conjures his best imitation of a sniffle. Not that he'd ever cried in his life. “Suguruuu,” Satoru whines, rubbing at his eyes. Not a single drop of tear falls out. “It hurts.”

Suguru, the fool, and ever so weak-hearted for crying children—he buys the act.

“Oh, my poor boy,” Suguru whispers, rising to his feet so he can envelop Satoru in his arms. At his present height, Satoru’s head only reaches up to his belly, but Satoru doesn’t seem to mind. He relishes the proximity to Suguru’s womb, up-close and personal. “I’ll take you to the nurse, okay? There’s one in your home, right?”

“I don’t want the nurse,” Satoru mumbles, still hiccup-sniffling. He can’t decide which to do, so he does both at the same time. The sounds he makes are completely out-of-this-world. “I just want Suguru-san to do it for me.”

“You want me to bandage you up?”

“Mm-mm. And can I get Suguru-san to make hot chocolate for me to drink in bed too?”

Suguru thinks it’s an odd request, but he goes along with it. Anything for Satoru who got hurt on his account. It was his fault for keeping the instructor distracted, right?

“What else do you want?” Suguru teases, as he pulls Satoru up into his embrace. Satoru’s lucky he’s still small enough for Suguru to carry him in his arms, although give or take an additional year and this will cease to be possible. “You want me to give you a kiss, too?”

Satoru sees his opportunity, and he takes it. Rubbing at his eyes once more, he snivels out a mock-shy, “Mm-mm.”

Suguru laughs, and decides there’s no harm in spoiling Satoru just this once.

“Good boys who don’t cry get kisses,” Suguru teases further.

But Satoru gazes up at him with those big blue eyes, trembling with such grave disappointment and looking as though you’d just snatched a lollipop from his grasp, and Suguru feels guilty enough that he does as he initially offers.

Pressing a soft kiss atop his forehead, Suguru hopes that this is enough to soothe Satoru’s pain.

(It’s the first time Suguru-san’s ever giving him a kiss…!)

“Be more careful next time, my sweet boy,” Suguru coos, gently caressing his short white locks of hair.

Satoru nestles happily against his chest, fully prepared to do even worse the next time.

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For some reason, Satoru insists that Suguru accompany him to bed every night. Suguru doesn't do much; he simply tucks Satoru in like a loving mother would and watches him as he falls asleep before retiring to his own room. Satoru isn’t one for conversation, which makes the task rather easy; he simply finds solace in Suguru’s presence next to him before drifting off.

Tonight, however, it seems Satoru is particularly in the mood for conversation, perhaps spurred on by the eventful incident with his teacher earlier.

But instead of beginning the conversation like a normal person, Satoru immediately starts with a bold declaration, like he’d decided from long ago:

“You are my omega.”

And Suguru’s head already feels dizzy.

He doesn’t even know what Satoru is going on about. Sometimes he believes words just spout from his mouth nonsensically, akin to how children sometimes speak without understanding the full weight of their words.

Without thinking much of it, Suguru tells the child, “Go to sleep, Satoru.”

“So, you agree?” Satoru asks, demanding an answer. It’s hard to take his threatening tone seriously, though, with only his small head peeking out from underneath the covers after being tucked in. “You are my omega?”

Uh, what? How does one even logically answer a question like that, much less from a ten-year-old? Suguru has hardly given thought to matters of mating, especially since he’s now a jujutsu sorcerer. Was there a guidebook out there for pseudo-parents on how to answer difficult questions like these? Suguru needed one, stat.

Satoru’s not a normal child, but Suguru’s not a normal guardian, either. He’s just seventeen-years-old, trying to get by in a world that hardly understands him.

It’s what prompts him to blurt out a, “Sure,” without giving it much thought, not realising that words, indeed, do hold consequences.

Even Satoru seems surprised by the lack of resistance to it all.

“Wait, really?”

You mean to say Satoru had casually uttered ‘you are my omega’ without any real intent, almost as if taking a shot in the dark and seeing what would stick; and still, Suguru had taken the very bait?!!!

“Uh,” Suguru’s starting to doubt he should have even answered at all. “Sure…?”

Okay fine, it might have been a wrong move on his part. He’d just wanted to shut the kid up so he could go to sleep…!

“Good,” Satoru is beaming from ear to ear, as he gleefully grasps the covers. “Suguru-san is my omega.”

“Um,” Suguru says. He’s really beginning to regret it all, and believe he holds no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. But looking at Satoru’s blissfully smiling face, how could he ever bear to rip the child’s newfound happiness away from him? Should Suguru begin by prodding him with more questions, first?

“Satoru, do you even know what ‘being your omega’ might entail?”

Satoru frowns. “Yes, of course, I’m not an idiot,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose in irritance. “That means you’ll belong to me, and me only. Your eyes, your mouth, your words, your hands. They all belong to me. You won’t be able to look at another man again. Or speak to them. Or give them attention. It’s all mine. Forever and ever!”

Damn. The boy had a seriously warped sense of what ‘having an omega’ meant.

Although, in a rather twisted way, he was also… right…?

Alphas were known for their possessiveness, weren’t they?

“Okay, fine,” Suguru gives in. There’s no arguing with this child. After all, it’s just like playing house, something that many kids his age enjoy, right? Suguru figures it’s alright to humour the kid a little bit. “You’re not wrong. But, it’s kind of messed up to control your omega to that extent, don’t you think? I mean, I can belong to you, but also still talk to other people. That doesn’t mean I love you any less, or that I won’t still come back to you at the end of the day. Being your omega means trust. I’ll give my whole life to you, but you’ll also have to trust me that I do.”

Suguru hadn’t meant for his words to have a profound effect on the boy in any way; even he thought he was just spouting bullshit, or saying whatever he could to recover what was lost of his dignity. But Satoru actually takes in all of it, word for word, and Suguru can tell from his eyes that he’s grasped a whole new understanding of what Suguru is looking for in this… new relationship? Uh.

Satoru still pouts, though. Heavy cheeks drooping over the covers. “I don’t like it when you pay attention to other people, that are not me.”

Suguru smiles. How painfully honest. How many kids out there hated it when their mothers looked away from them?

(While ignoring the nagging voice in his head that insists: But Suguru, he doesn’t think of you as his mother.)

Suguru reassures him with a gentle, “It’s okay to be jealous, Satoru. It’s a very human emotion. But you know that you’re my absolute favourite, right? I’ll always come back to you.”

Satoru blinks. “Really?”

“Of course. I don’t lie to people. And I’d never lie to you.”

Satoru seems content enough to hear that. “Okay. I trust you.”

Suguru believes he can turn this into a teachable moment. “Satoru, do you know what being my alpha means?”

My alpha. Hearing it in the flesh right from Suguru’s cherry-red lips feels so good, far better than Satoru could have ever imagined.

His face flushes a deep red as he clenches tightly at the covers. “I… I don’t know.”

(Was… Was Suguru-san flirting with him?

Right at this moment?

After zealously proclaiming Satoru as his alpha?)

Oh, Satoru’s sweet, virgin ten-year-old heart can hardly take it!

“It means you’ll have to take good care of yourself, and not let yourself get hurt,” Suguru tells him, with a low hum. “If you can’t even take care of yourself and need me to bandage you up, then how can I trust you to take care of me?”

The light in Satoru’s eyes instantly dies out. Ah, Suguru thinks. Perhaps, I’ve really gotten through to him!

“It won’t happen again,” Satoru vows, curling his baby hands into hell-bent fists. “I’m strong. I will be the strongest. I won’t get hurt again. I’ll protect Suguru-san.”

“You’ll protect your omega,” Suguru grins, for added measure.

With every word, Suguru digs his grave even deeper.

Satoru's heart thumps to the beat of his excitement. Lifting his head up, he boldly asks of the older boy, “Suguru-san, since we’re now mates, can I get a kiss on the lips?”

Okay, way too much. Suguru’s smile thins, as he attempts to dodge the question.

Choking on his own spit, Suguru coughs to muffle his silent scream of terror.

“I’m shy,” is the only thing Suguru can bring himself to say, as he wraps his kimono around himself tighter.

Fortunately enough, Satoru seems to accept his excuse.

“It’s okay,” Satoru tells him, with his chest all puffed out. Acting as though he’s paying mind to his shy omega’s discomfort, he generously offers, like the big-hearted alpha that he is, “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Uh,” Suguru answers. He’s not so sure about tomorrow night, either. Or the night after. Or ever. Hey, wasn’t the kid just playing house?! Did he really have to take it so seriously to the point of giving lip kisses?!! “Satoru, it’s really time to go to bed. You wanted me to take you to the lake tomorrow morning, remember? I’ve organised a picnic just for us.”

Satoru appears even more delighted to be reminded of it. “Mm. Suguru-san promised.”

When all is said and done, Suguru’s still tenderly stroking the side of Satoru’s cheek as the young boy drifts off to sleep, wearing a soft smile of his own.

“What were you even going on about?” Suguru sighs to him in a gentle whisper, as he lulls him to sleep. “You know you’re the next Six Eyes, right? You’re destined for greatness. I’m not going to be your omega.”

(But oh, just watch him.)

.

.

.

When Gojo Satoru was born, the incredible power he possessed caused a shift in the balance of the world.

A bounty was placed on his head. Naturally, many curse-users flocked from far and wide in pursuit of him. Not many made it far; the Gojo clan was notoriously hard to infiltrate, and there were many impenetrable fences.

The few that did—all ended up dead.

The details surrounding their deaths were shrouded in secrecy, but many could conjure up a guess.

Gojo Satoru was not dead because of the lack of trying; he simply proved impossible to kill, despite being just a child.

Overtime, the assassination attempts lessened, and the rare few who persisted did so only because they wanted to catch a fleeting glimpse of the elusive child.

They refrained from attempting to harm him; it just wasn’t worth the trouble. And so long as they didn’t provoke him, Gojo Satoru didn’t retaliate.

He let them watch as they so pleased.

On this fine day, however, they happened to catch him at a bad time. Suguru-san had been fussing over him throughout their entire walk from the mansion, sheltering him with a red parasol from the glaring sun. They strolled hand-in-hand in their silk kimonos, headed towards the secluded lake owned by the Gojo clan, in search of some respite from the constant watchful eyes back at the estate.

“Finally, we can relax,” Suguru had hummed, as the pair embarked on their day trip together.

But the second Fushiguro Toji set foot onto their same path, Satoru sensed it deep within his bones.

Suguru wasn’t completely clueless either. A second later, and he too, felt the presence of someone behind them.

One that wasn’t particularly friendly, at that.

Suguru’s first instinct was to protect.

“Satoru, stay back!” Suguru shouted just as he tossed the red parasol away, swung his feet around and summoned the cursed spirit dwelling deep within his core. Each time he called for the spirits safely tucked within his state of being, his belly always churned with great discomfort; but the sensation was, thankfully, usually fleeting.

Before long, the cursed spirit materialised just behind him and Satoru, taking the form of a majestic, long white dragon with golden eyes. Rainbow dragon. It was one of his most powerful curses, and also his favourite. He thought that it was one of the few that wouldn’t terrify children Satoru’s age; not that he thought Satoru would be terrified of any.

However, Satoru’s reaction was even quicker—split-seconds, at most. He’d leaped directly in front of Suguru, adopting a defensive posture, extending his arms to create a protective barrier between his omega and the rest of the world, as if to firmly deliver one message: back off. His aura was lethal, deadly; and his wide-open, piercing ocean-blue eyes appeared to challenge the intruder to come forward in a life-and-death confrontation.

With a thunderous growl, the young alpha barks out,

“Get away from my omega!”

…oh. Was that what this was?

Ah, this silly boy. Suguru had been worried about another attempted kidnapping and Satoru had thought these people were coming for him?

Fushiguro Toji was a tall and menacing man, with muscles that Suguru could only dream of. Even though he was cloaked only in a plain, drab grey kimono, Suguru could tell that the man was a skilled fighter, even if he didn’t know the full extent.

Upon realising that he had been noticed by not one, but two of them, he breaks into laughter.

“How intriguing,” he hums at them. “Never before in my life has anyone noticed me standing behind them. It seems the both of you were made for each other.”

Satoru’s stance remains primal, like a fierce beast guarding its territory. He hisses: “Stay away, if you know what’s best for you.”

“Ha!” Toji laughs, shrugging his threat right off. Cocking his head to the side, his interest is directed towards Suguru this time. Parting his lips to reveal gleaming white teeth, he coos to the omega, “You’re pretty.”

Satoru was far too young to emit his own alpha pheromones. And yet, the air surrounding him carried a pungent odour, as if drenched with his possessive stench.

Was this something solely unique to the Six Eyes?

“Hey, I said back off!”

Suguru eases up a bit, the tension in his shoulders diminishing now that he has scrutinised the man and seen that he wasn’t carrying any weapons. There was no cursed energy surrounding him, either. Perhaps the man really hadn’t come here looking for a fight?

“Choosing to be the Six Eyes’ omega, though? Do you know what kind of life you’re signing up for? Maybe you haven’t read enough comic books, but you should be old enough to know that every supposed hero possesses a vulnerability, an Achilles’ heel,” Toji grins. “You want to be that for him? You’d live life on the run forever.”

Suguru’s only the slightest bit fazed. Spreading his lips into a smirk, Suguru confidently asks of him, “Do you really think that little of me? I may not have his Six Eyes, but I am a damn good sorcerer. I can very well protect myself.”

“Oh, are you?” Toji laughs. Suguru’s steely gaze remains unwavering. That hard look of his actually gives Toji pause. “Hm. Perhaps you are.”

“I’m still here,” Satoru comments, in annoyance. The two speak over him, as though he isn’t there.

“Well, I only wanted to pay the infamous Six Eyes a visit, but I didn’t think I’d be treated to the sight of his mate, too,” Toji laughs harder, turning away. “Although—he’s still a kid, isn’t he? I take it the deed isn’t done. If you ever change your mind, come look for me.”

Suguru’s brow twitches, even if he’s still wearing a tight-lipped smile. “And why would a man like you even be interested?”

“Haha, because you’re pretty,” and Toji doesn’t even sound like he’s making a mockery out of him, he’s saying it like an irrefutable fact. “And your voice is more than pleasing. I haven’t been intrigued like this for a long time now. Not since…”

And then he startles, like he’d just remembered he left something cooking on the stove. “Huh, I guess he’s still out there. …Well, anyway, you’ll look for me, won’t you? I doubt the Six Eyes could please you.”

Satoru glowers at him, with murderous intent. “I’ll kill you.”

“I believe you,” Toji smiles, raising his hand in a friendly wave. “Well, I’m off now. See you.”

Just like that, he was gone. Suguru recalls his cursed spirit, while Satoru turns his back and continues walking on, with his fists clenched and trembling by his sides.

“Hey, Satoru,” Suguru says, picking up the red parasol on the ground and hurriedly keeping up with him. “You okay?”

But Satoru doesn’t answer. Mumbling incoherently to himself, it seems as though the kid’s still preoccupied with rather vengeful and sickening thoughts.

“My omega,” were two of the words Suguru could make out amongst his incessant, utterly deranged mumbling. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

(The danger of other alphas coveting his omega has never felt more real, and Satoru is just now realising how easily Suguru could be taken from him, particularly in his current state where Satoru is still not the strongest.)

.

.

.

Satoru begins acting out.

Suguru had been discussing dinner plans with the chef, when he heard a deafening, ear-piercing crash coming from the dining room Satoru was in.

Hurrying to Satoru’s side and pushing through the doors manically, Suguru meets with the sight of the maids on their knees, fervently bowing to their young master as they frantically attempt to gather the shattered plates on the floor with their bleeding hands.

“Gojo-sama! Gojo-sama! We’re in the wrong, please forgive us!”

Satoru himself doesn’t look too well. With his eyes blown wide open in a look of blatant intimidation, he fixes an accusatory gaze upon the maids. He holds up his own hands as though to examine them, now that they were covered in numerous bloodied cuts.

As if slipping into a sinister daze, Satoru remains oblivious to Suguru’s presence and proceeds to terrorise the maids with his hateful little questions, “I clearly said not to serve me until Suguru-san was here. Can’t you follow simple instructions? Now that I’m injured, are you prepared to take the blame?”

“Gojo-sama, we’re sorry! We’re so, so sorry!”

The disturbing scene deeply alarmed Suguru, shocking him to his very core.

But he still rushes to Satoru’s side anyway, unable to stand by idly and witness him in pain.

“Satoru, you’re bleeding!” he yells, taking Satoru’s hands into his. Turning his head, he asks of the servants, “Quick, get me ointment and bandages so I can treat him!”

The maids scurry away to do as he asks, relieved to be momentarily excused from Satoru’s terrifying presence.

Those sinister blue eyes of his bore into Suguru’s ones, as he utters out a low and resentful, “You’re late, Suguru-san... You’re late for lunch.”

Satoru’s attempts at intimidation have no effect on Suguru, unlike how it does for the maids; but Suguru still apologises anyway for keeping Satoru waiting. “I'm so sorry, Satoru, I was busy speaking with the chefs. I was already on my way here.”

“Why is talking to the chefs more important than having lunch with me?” Satoru demands to know, as his lower lip begins to quiver in an utter look of rejection and despair. “I thought I was the most important thing to you. You’re my omega, aren’t you? You should be here when I want you to.”

There it was again, that willful attitude of his. Suguru really didn’t know what to do with him.

With a soft sigh, Suguru tenderly cradles Satoru's cheeks and tells him oh so sweetly, “Satoru, haven’t we already discussed this? Being your omega means trust. Just because I talk to other people doesn’t mean I love you any less. You want to be a good alpha, don’t you, hmm? You’ll have to trust me when I ask you to.”

Satoru huffs, obstinately refusing to comply. “I don’t want to be a good alpha.”

Uh. “What?”

“Why must I be a good alpha? I’m the next Six Eyes. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. If I want Suguru-san to be by my side all the time, then you have to do it. You’re my omega.”

He’s going to grow up into the worst type of alpha there is, isn’t he? The domineering type to lock their omegas at home and never let them out for anyone else to see? Suguru has heard plenty of those sorts of horror stories.

Suguru doesn’t bother to mince his words around him anymore. “So, you’d rather be a petulant little shit and get yourself hurt?”

“This is all Suguru-san’s fault. This wouldn’t have happened if you had come sooner.”

“So, it’s my fault, and the servants’ fault that you willfully broke the plates and ruined the lunch the chefs worked hard on to prepare for you?”

“Yes,” Satoru says, but already his heart has begun withering at the way Suguru is now looking at him—all exasperated, like he’s ready to shirk all responsibility and give up on him permanently. Now that actually frightens Satoru enough into lowering his grand tone of condescension. “Why are you looking at me like that? Like you… like you don’t want me anymore?”

Suguru purses his lip, and says, “To be frank with you, Satoru, I don’t want an alpha like you.”

In that very instant, Satoru’s entire world shatters.

His indignant expression quickly crumbles and gives way to pure dismay and regret.

“Wha… What?”

Suguru finally sees it fit to let out everything he’d been holding back. “You’re infuriatingly arrogant, you treat everyone like they’re lesser than, and you resort to threats in order to make others’ lives miserable just to have your way. The only person with whom you’ve ever let your guard down is me, and even then, you’ve never viewed me as your equal. Have you forgotten that I was picked out by you, like an animal at a slaughterhouse? I’ve never truly had a say in this, have I? I’m not here out of my own volition. I’m here because you want me to.”

Satoru lets out a shaky breath, as he quickly becomes disillusioned by his words. No one had ever dared raise their voice at him like this before, or spell out his faults to him, one by one…

“Suguru-san, that’s not what you said back then.”

“I don’t care what I said,” Suguru snaps at him, in a fit of rage. “I said it out of my own survival. You don’t know what it’s like to want to survive in a system that actively despises you. I don’t think I’ll ever want an alpha, but even if I do, it certainly won’t be someone the likes of you.”

Every trace of arrogance vanishes thoroughly from Satoru’s countenance, leaving only heartbreak in its wake.

Scrambling to his knees, Satoru desperately clutches Suguru’s face, his injured fingers leaving smeared, bloody streaks on the older boy’s cheeks.

“Suguru-san, I was wrong,” Satoru says in a broken whisper, coming the closest to shedding tears that he has ever been in his life. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m a bad alpha. I made you upset.”

Suguru’s heart immediately stirs.

This could very well be the first time Satoru has ever shown humility, and offered an apology to anyone in his life.

“You were wrong?” Suguru asks, just to be sure.

“I was wrong,” Satoru nods, gripping him tight. Devastated by the thought of possibly losing Suguru as his omega, he woefully begs of the older boy, “I could have been better. I can be better. Please forgive me… Please accept me as your alpha, once more.”

Suguru releases a soft sigh, as he pats lightly at his hair. He’s always so weak for crying children. “You can always choose to do good, Satoru.”

“I’ll do good. I’ll be good. I promise. I want to be good for you,” Satoru confesses, rather earnestly. “I want to deserve you.”

Alright, the boy seems sincere enough. He deserves, at the very least, the smallest smile from Suguru.

“When the servants return, you’ll apologise to them too.”

Satoru wears a look of reluctance, but he doesn’t fight Suguru’s demands. “Yes.”

“Good boy,” Suguru hums, grinning at him now. “What about those cuts of yours? Do they really hurt? They look quite bad.”

Satoru hesitates. “No,” he answers. “Superficial cuts like these never hurt. Suguru-san saying he doesn’t want me cuts far deeper…”

Young he may be, but what a glib tongue!

Wasn’t this why Suguru found him so cute in the first place? He was weak to the boy’s flattery.

Oh, well. It appears that threatening to disavow him as his alpha was proving an effective way to instil in him some manners.

“You’re going to grow up and become the future head of your clan, so it’d do you good to learn how to work with others and treat them with kindness, in particular your staff,” Suguru cautions, as he brushes the blood out of his matted hair. “If they hold you in contempt, how can you trust that they’ll be loyal to you? It’s very important for someone in your position to have people that you can trust.”

Satoru parts his lips, as though he’d like to counter such a thing. I will be the strongest, and so I will need no one! He remembers his vow to Suguru to be a good alpha though, and ultimately decides against it.

“Mm,” is what he chooses to go with, instead. “I will be kinder.”

Suguru marvels at his rare obedience. “What a good boy,” he smiles, patting at his head once more. “You’re my favourite kind of alpha. No—you’re my favourite alpha!”

Satoru’s eyes glisten with much emotion, grateful to have wormed himself back into Suguru’s good graces again. Trying his luck, he asks with a wistful look in his eyes, “Can I… Can I get a kiss on the lips, now?”

Suguru almost chokes upon hearing the request. “No.”

The boy’s face is crestfallen. “No?”

Looking as though he’s second-guessing everything he just said about being a good alpha, now.

Suguru pretend-coughs. “I’m still shy.”

“Oh,” Satoru says with a gleeful smile, looking like devil’s incarnate with his bloodstained hair and even bloodier hands. “That’s okay. I can wait.”

“Mn,” Suguru says, unable to meet his eyes.

It is at this moment that the maids finally tumble in with their ointment and bandages, and Suguru has to stare Satoru down again until he stops his childish sulking and apologises to them.

What a willful little boy, Suguru thinks to himself. But I think I know how to handle this brat, from now on.

.

.

.

Satoru has never properly celebrated his birthday. When Suguru finds out, he is livid.

His parents are always someplace else, and the elders don’t care for such frivolous matters. The servants once attempted to bake him a cake, but Satoru just burned it. They weren’t even sure how or why he set it aflame. When it came to their young master, they simply chose not to question things.

Did he hate his own birthday? Perhaps. Or maybe, he considered himself above such celebrations? His very existence threatened all living beings in this universe. He might have thought it beneath him to commemorate something so… ephemeral.

But this birthday was different; Suguru was by his side. And so, Suguru was determined to make it truly special for him.

(It’s not as though Suguru was a big fan of birthday celebrations, either. But Satoru was a mere child. And Suguru thinks all children deserve to spend their birthdays happy, even if he was never a particularly happy child himself.)

Suguru goes to great lengths to organise a grand birthday celebration. He coordinates with the estate manager to adorn the entire estate with colourful banners and balloons, and requests the chefs to craft eleven distinct cakes in various sizes and flavours to mark Satoru’s eleven years of existence. He engages the seamstresses to create matching, exquisite sky-blue kimonos for both him and Satoru to wear, and even playfully implores the maids to help him apply some blue eyeshadow to his lids to doll up for the occasion.

And, just for today, he decides to let his hair down instead of tying them into his usual high bun. Just for today. As a treat!

(He’s surprised to find that his hair now sweeps down to his waist, a clear indication of how much time has passed since he first arrived at the mansion. He hasn’t cut it since leaving jujutsu high.)

With Satoru comfortably nestled on his lap, Suguru gently grasps his hands, while clapping along to the fast rhythm of the birthday song. They sit together before the eleven illuminated cakes they had prepared for the celebration, with the rest of the mansion’s staff looking on.

At the end of the song, Suguru encourages Satoru to make his wishes.

“Happy birthday, Satoru! You get to make eleven wishes, because you have eleven cakes this year,” Suguru says to him.

All of this is unfamiliar to Gojo Satoru. The celebration, the birthday song, and the ritualistic tradition of making wishes. However, because Suguru-san is the one requesting this of him, and because he knows how diligently Suguru has worked to make this day special just for him, Satoru can’t help but go along with it all.

“I just have one wish,” Satoru whispers, in a voice so soft and uncharacteristic of him.

“Well, then you get to make it eleven times!” Suguru chuckles. “Maybe that way, it’ll come true for sure!”

Satoru’s head perks up with much enthusiasm, like such a thought hadn’t occurred to him before.

“Mn,” he smiles.

He makes the same wish eleven times, and then blows all of his candles out.

The servants—who have gradually warmed up to their young master over time, thanks to the guidance of one Suguru-san, who has considerably softened their young master into the child he was always meant to be—clap loudly for Satoru. They then hurry to present him with the various gifts they’d prepared, although Satoru seems to pay them no mind.

“I just want one thing,” Satoru says to them, shaking his head. He turns his head back to Suguru, his hands eagerly raising to paw at Suguru’s cheeks, like an overly excited child who cannot wait to get his first gift. “Can I tell you what I want, Suguru-san?”

Suguru laughs. “Okay.” What could he possibly ask for that Suguru couldn’t give?

Pulling himself up, he whispers his heartfelt wish into Suguru’s ear.

At first, Suguru’s eyes widen in surprise. However, as he takes some time to mull it over, he decides Satoru’s wish is ultimately harmless and… not the worst idea?

As Satoru gazes up at him rather expectantly, with much longing apparent in his deep-blue irises, Suguru gently persuades him with a soft, “Later, before bed.”

It’s not a definitive ‘no’!

Satoru’s entire being radiates with joy, as a rare, genuine smile graces his face.

“Later,” Satoru clings onto that promise, like it’s a sacred vow shared between just him and Suguru.

Like it’s their one and only secret.

Now that Satoru is assured of his desired gift, he proceeds to indulge his servants by opening the numerous presents they’d prepared consisting of items that—he can care less about. But Suguru has taught him the importance of manners, and so he reluctantly, but graciously thanks all those who present him with gifts.

It’s all thanks to Suguru-san, the servants praise in amazement. That he has transformed our young master into a much more noble and considerate person, for the better!

.

.

.

“Can I have it now?”

Satoru is an impatient little thing, climbing excitedly into bed in his pyjamas and turning to face Suguru with his arms outstretched in anticipation.

“Please, can I have it now? Can I do it now?”

“I don’t know what has gotten into you,” Suguru sighs powerlessly against the child’s overly eager advances. “What books have you been reading? Who taught you such a thing? I thought I kept a close eye on every single reading material you picked up.”

“I’m an alpha, it’s natural for me to know these things,” Satoru stubbornly huffs. But it may or may not have been something he’d seen in passing while walking through the garden, where he’d caught a glimpse of an omega maid passionately surrendering herself to an alpha chef.

As Suguru takes a seat on the bed, he doesn’t chide Satoru even when the kid eagerly shifts his weight closer to him.

He takes a moment to contemplate his decision once more, even though he already knows his answer.

“Alright,” Suguru sighs after that moment’s pause, finally giving in.

Raising his hand, he sweeps his long hair to the side and slowly pushes down the silken collar of his kimono, exposing the pale, unblemished skin hidden underneath.

He can still feel Satoru’s hushed whisper brushing against his cheeks from back there, at the party.

I wish to mark you.

It’s just biting, isn’t it? Suguru may not know a lot about what it means to be marked or mark somebody, but he’s positively certain it’s just teething; it’s just biting. What harm could Satoru do? His adult teeth probably aren’t even fully out yet.

It’s just like playing house, Suguru tells himself.

(Even if Satoru is oddly fond of it, for an eleven-year-old kid who should have outgrown such inclinations by now.)

But perhaps all of the isolation from the outside world has stunted his growth?

“Suguru-san, are you ready?” Satoru asks, in an unusually gentle tone.

Satoru’s sudden consideration towards him is doing little to put Suguru at ease; it’s as if he’s treating this like an actual mating ritual.

But it’s just play-pretend, isn’t it?

“Um,” Suguru asks, gulping. “Why wouldn’t I be ready?”

Satoru merely grins. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Suguru nods, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Climbing into Suguru’s lap, Satoru encircles his arms around Suguru’s neck, positioning himself where he can get the easiest access to his unmarked skin.

“Suguru-san, I really love you,” Satoru sighs out, as he readies himself. “I really, really love you.”

Parting his lips slowly, his little baby alpha canines protrude.

And then those teeth sink in.

Suguru hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath, but found that he… realistically had nothing to worry about.

Satoru’s teeth are still blunt, and so they do not draw blood.

But they’re big enough to leave indents in Suguru’s skin at least, leaving him with slight red bruising.

Hurriedly glancing at his reflection in the mirror hanging from a distance, Suguru inspects his neck and realises that Satoru’s bite had left nothing more than a minor teething mark.

Oh, good, Suguru heaves a sigh of relief. That will go away in just a day.

After all, Satoru’s just a kid.

Surprisingly enough, Satoru's spirits are not at all dampened by the little mark he’d delivered.

On the contrary, the boy is ecstatic.

“You’re mine now,” Satoru declares, triumphantly. “You’re my omega. We’re destined for each other. You’re my one and only. This is physical evidence of my claim.”

Suguru smiles sheepishly at him, glad to see that Satoru is so easily content with this make-believe mating bite. Clasping his hands together, he sweetly tilts his head to the side and wishes the kid from the bottommost of his heart:

“Gojo Satoru, happy birthday from me.”

For the first time in his entire life, tears well up in Gojo Satoru’s eyes.

“This is the best birthday ever,” Satoru tearily admits, as Suguru lays him back down against his bed and tucks him into the covers. In his blind state of joy, Satoru impulsively exclaims, “Suguru-san, do you remember when you asked me why I chose you out of the rest? Do you remember when you asked if it was because I thought you’d make the best playmate?”

Suguru chuckles. He recalls that. “Mm.”

“Well, my real answer to that… is that I thought you were the prettiest of them all.”

“Eh?”

Satoru clamours up in bed once more, this time to avidly ask, “Suguru-san, Suguru-san, can I ask you for one more thing?”

Suguru hums, happy to see the boy so happy. “What is it?”

Satoru falters, unsure. But still wishes to know for sure, “Do you love me back?”

Suguru gazes back into those shaky blue eyes and wonders why Satoru ever thought to doubt him.

“I love you more than life,” Suguru hums, his slender fingers brushing at the white strands of hair on Satoru’s forehead. “Always remember that, okay?”

“Okay,” Satoru answers, now that his heart is feeling full.

Leaving the words unspoken, and hanging in the air: I wish to spend all of my future birthdays, just like this, always, next to you.

.

.

.

Satoru’s mother unexpectedly drops by to visit the day after his birthday, a little over ten months into Suguru’s guardianship of Satoru.

Satoru hardly knows—or cares—for his mother, and has to be reminded by Suguru to greet her politely when she arrives at their doorstep.

“Mother,” is all Satoru says, as he grips Suguru tightly with his one hand.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” Suguru says to her, as he lowers his head in a reverent bow. Behind him, all of the servants are doing the same.

Satoru’s mother is as stiff and austere in manners as her son. With snow-white hair and a graceful gait, she is a frigid, striking beauty, but her demeanour clearly remains stern and judgmental.

And she’s also incredibly perceptive, although that is to be expected from the mother of a Six-Eyed boy.

Suguru’s kimono slips down slightly as he bows, revealing the mark he’d tried so desperately to conceal this morning.

Her beady eyes widen, as she catches a whiff of what has occurred in her absence.

But even if she senses something amiss, she refrains from addressing it in front of her son.

“Satoru,” she waves for the servants to take him. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class? Resume your lessons, as I take your custodian out for lunch.”

Satoru seems deeply hesitant to part from Suguru’s side, but has never been one to defy his mother. As he is quickly led away to his lessons, he hurriedly voices aloud, rather insistently if that’s the last thing he’ll convey to his mother, “His name is Suguru, and he is my destined mate!”

“I know,” she says, raising her gaze back up to meet his in a chilling, damning stare. “Geto Suguru, we have much to talk about. Come with me. And walk two steps behind me, you’re drenched in my son’s stench and it stinks.”

Suguru quietly follows after her, and wonders if his fate is once more about to change in her hands.

.

.

.

They tell him it had been a mistake. That the order hadn’t come from the elders of the Gojo clan; it had been initiated by Gojo Satoru himself. He had forged a letter, their signatures, and even stole the sacred Gojo clan wax seal that was used on the letter from his mother’s office.

Satoru himself had personally put forth the request for a guardian—it hadn’t been a directive from any of the higher-ups.

The motive behind his actions remained unclear. Was it an act of rebellion? Some sort of reckless defiance, typical of boys his age? Nevertheless, his motivations mattered little to them. Suguru’s presence at their estate was a mistake, and this mistake would soon be rectified.

They tell Suguru to pack his bags while Satoru is away at his lessons, and to be ready to depart just before Satoru returns. And Satoru is expected to be back by lunchtime, so that doesn’t leave Suguru with much time. They don’t allow Suguru to pack beyond one bag, afraid he’ll take too many keepsakes from the Gojo clan with him.

But Suguru wishes to tell them the very opposite: that the only thing he’d ever desire to take away from this godforsaken estate was Gojo Satoru himself, even if he knows logically he cannot.

Satoru occupies a position in this world, and upholds a responsibility far more significant than Suguru can ever be. Still, Suguru can’t shake the memory of the loneliness he noticed in the boy’s eyes when they first met, and fears Satoru’s suffering will take a turn for the worse should he continue the trajectory he’s on.

He can only hope that the finite amount of time he had spent with Satoru was enough to impart to the boy the value of kindness, and the meaning of unconditional love.

“Can I at least tell him goodbye?” Suguru pleads with them, to no avail.

“You cannot even stay here a moment longer,” comes the answer. “The boy has imprinted onto you, and for the worse. The Six Eyes is unlike any other; we don’t know what his imprinting on you will do. You need to leave before this shallow bond between the both of you becomes irreversible.”

Suguru doesn’t know a thing about imprinting, or mating bonds, or being attached to the Six Eyes.

He only knows that Satoru hasn’t gone a single night without Suguru tucking him into bed, and fears the boy will lose his mind should Suguru leave him without so much as saying a word.

But he remains powerless against the strict orders of the Gojo clan.

And so, he leaves.

He takes off the kimonos he’d grown so fond of, and changes back into the jujutsu uniform that doesn’t seem to quite fit him right anymore.

He rubs off what little blue eyeshadow remains on his eyelids.

He adjusts his high collar, and takes care to hide Satoru's bite marks out of sight.

He gathers his long hair and secures it into his former tight high bun, and forgets he ever decided to let go once.

Gojo Satoru, I hope I’ve changed your life for the better.

Because you have changed mine.

.

.

.

Suguru leaves in the same chauffeured car that had brought him here, accompanied by the same driver who had worn the same apologetic expression on his face then, too.

I’ve come and gone with regrets, Suguru thinks. But if I could do it all over again, I would still choose you, Gojo Satoru, in a heartbeat.

I hope you know that. Even if I’m not there to tell you that—I hope you’ve felt that.

Massaging his temples, Suguru covers his eyes.

Too defeated to look out the window for one last goodbye.

But just then, a loud ruckus outside, marked by a bout of aggravated shouting, quickly garners his attention—

—followed by the grotesque sounds of a resounding crash as the car’s hood collides with a hard body.

Had someone run themselves straight into the car?

Who would be insane enough to do that?

Suguru’s questions are answered but a moment’s later, when two bloodied fists pound furiously on his car windows; as the small figure heaves its broken and battered self up to align with the tall height of the glass panels.

Gojo Satoru’s grief-stricken face levels with his, as tears stream down his bloodstained cheeks.

“Suguru-san,” Satoru sobs out, crying so dearly it tugged at every one of Suguru’s heartstrings. “How dare you leave me?!”

Satoru must have been so devastated by his leaving, that he had stood in the car’s way and gotten struck by it in his desperate attempt to stop it.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Suguru flings open the car door and rushes to Satoru’s urgent aid.

“Satoru, your legs are bruised and bleeding!”

“I don’t care!” Satoru yells, as he outstretches both arms out, hoping for Suguru to envelop him in a tight embrace like he always did when Satoru was upset. “I don’t care, I just want you to stay right here with me! I don’t care about being the Six Eyes! I don’t care if I lose all feeling, I don’t care if I lose all of my limbs! Geto Suguru, I’ve only ever wanted you to stay! You promised!”

What a peculiar little boy. What a stubborn eleven-year-old.

But Suguru cares for the kid far too much to begrudge him for anything anymore.

“Gojo Satoru, you listen to me,” Suguru gently cradles his face, and watches as all light fades from his azure gaze. “You’re not ready yet. You got it? You’re not ready to claim me. You may be my alpha, but you’re still a child, and there’s still so many great things you have to learn and do, before you can come collect me. I’m not going anywhere. My life is at jujutsu high. When you grow older, when you get to my age, you can come for me. I’ll be waiting for you there. Do. You. Understand. Me?”

Deep down inside, Suguru’s almost certain that Satoru will forget all about him in a couple of years’ time. He’s simply throwing a child’s tantrum right now, and it remains Suguru’s responsibility as the older one in this situation to soothe him and calm his temper.

Oh, Suguru sure hopes Satoru will work on that temper of his in time to come.

Suguru’s words must get through to him, because Satoru’s obnoxious cries dwindle down to mere sniffling, as he begins to incoherently mutter out, “I… I saw you…”

“What is it, my sweet boy?” Suguru asks softly, as he strains his ears to pick up on Satoru’s voice.

“I… I saw you once… in a dream, you were older and dead in an alley, and I knew… I had killed you,” Satoru cries out, interspersed with his hysterical hiccuping. “I saw you, hic, even before I knew you. That was the real reason I picked you out at jujutsu high. I saw your face once… and I knew I had to find you.”

Suguru tries to make sense of his senseless ramblings. “Satoru, I can’t understand you.”

Wailing once more, he stubbornly rushes forward to embrace Suguru. His short fingers grip the sides of Suguru’s waist, clutching onto his uniform tightly. “I’m so afraid you’ll die without me by your side! I’m supposed to protect you!”

Suguru does his best to console him, gently stroking his white head of hair.

The boy’s not going to let him go until he does something drastic, isn’t he?

Suguru has made up his mind. “Satoru, I’m going to make you two vows right here and now.”

“Wha…?”

“The first, is that I won’t die,” Suguru winces at the very thought. What a morbid imagination Satoru possesses, to even be dreaming of Suguru’s death. “The second, is that when you come to collect me when you are older, I won’t say no.”

Satoru blows his nose loudly using the sleeve of Suguru’s uniform, and sobs out, “...You won’t?”

“No,” Suguru hums, shaking his head. He sincerely promises, “I will become your omega, then. Fair and square. No take-backs.”

“No take-backs,” Satoru hiccups.

“Nope,” Suguru says. “Satoru, do you think I’d lie about this to you?”

Satoru squints as he scrutinises Suguru’s beautiful violet eyes with much fear and disbelief, but ultimately decides that Suguru is being sincere.

Nodding his head, he accepts his vows. “Suguru-san, I’ll come back for you when I’m older and have proved myself. I’ve given you my mating bite, after all. You’ll have to save yourself for me—no one else!”

Suguru chuckles wearily. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Gojo Satoru.”

Satoru desperately clings onto him for the last time, sensing that these are their final moments together.

“Suguru-san, I really, really love you!”

And Suguru believes there’s no harm in returning the innocent love that the eleven-year-old Satoru has for him.

“Satoru-san,” Suguru’s eyes crinkle into his signature smile. “I really, really love you, too.”

Even after Suguru returns to jujutsu high, he refrains from washing that bloodstained uniform of his for an entire week.

Too afraid he’d be erasing every trace and memory of Gojo Satoru and the profound impact that the boy had on him, otherwise.

.

.

.

Yu Haibara dies.

.

.

.

Geto Suguru is wanted for massacring an entire village.

.

.

.

The heavy rain outside beats against the doors of his temple with a relentless fury, but it’s nothing Suguru isn’t used to. Inside, the dimly lit temple casts long, dancing shadows as Suguru calmly reignites the flickering candles on the altar one by one, with his flimsy lighter.

Sensing a presence entering through the temple doors, Suguru hums softly and calls out, “Mimiko, Nanako, I thought I had told you both to go to bed early.”

The soft, warm glow of the candles provides a serene backdrop as the tall shadow behind gently merges with the swaying silhouette of Suguru’s back, painting a lovely portrait against the temple’s delicate paper walls.

Two lost souls—reunited at last.

Strong, lengthy arms snake around Suguru’s waist from behind, causing him to startle and drop his lighter onto the floor.

Suguru can feel the soft fabric of bandages pressing against the back of his head, with short strands of hair brushing lightly against the nape of his neck—in a manner so nostalgic and familiar, reminiscent of moments from many moons ago.

Of a child he’d once loved, and then lost.

Suguru daren’t release his breath, trembling with both anticipation and fear.

(The person hugging him is ridiculously tall, their build herculean, their alpha pheromones oozing so intoxicatingly—as if they’re a dream come to life.)

For his shadow already speaks for itself; and is as handsome as can be.

“Suguru-san,” the voice intones, in an iteration so polished, so deep, so raw and so refined; befitting the very clan head Suguru had always expected him to become. “Are you still feeling shy? Now that I’m older, can I finally get that kiss?”

It appears that now that he’s a grown man, his arrogance has returned two-fold.

Suguru lets out a shaky breath. Clad in his gojogesa, the scene echoes the one from their youth when he used to be happily swathed in one of the Gojo clan’s numerous kimonos, a specific request made by their overly indulgent clan heir.

“Gojo Satoru, you shouldn’t be here,” Suguru chastises him, for they are strangers now, aren’t they? They’re no longer the people that they used to be. “Far too many things have changed.”

“Have they?” Satoru questions him, as his thick fingers suggestively trace down the tight curve of his waist. Playfully, he jests, but also means it, “I’m inspecting right now, and it doesn’t seem much has changed at all.”

With his other hand, he reaches up to tug at the loose collar of Suguru’s robes, exposing smooth and unblemished skin that once bore his mark many moons ago. With an approving click of his tongue, Satoru hums, “Mm. It looks like you’ve saved yourself for me even after all this time, too. I’m so lucky~”

Suguru hisses, as he tries to wriggle out of Satoru’s hold. “Satoru, I am not joking.”

“Neither am I,” Satoru smugly points out, squeezing Suguru’s slender frame in his muscular grasp. “Suguru, you made two vows to me back then, remember? The first, was that you wouldn’t die. You’ve kept yourself safe for me all these years, and I’m grateful for that. As for the second…”

Suguru softly shuts his eyes. He knows very well what he’d said, back then. When he was still a teenager, living for the hope of it all, with impossible dreams bigger than himself.

“I’d give myself to you if you came back for me when you grew older. I wouldn’t say no.”

Satoru basks in a hearty laugh, his lips hovering just above Suguru’s earlobe. In a calculated whisper, he commends him, much like the way Suguru used to do for him, causing shivers to go down the omega’s spine, “Good boy.”

Enough playing. Suguru whips himself around so that they are now face-to-face, and he can see that Gojo Satoru has grown a considerable amount; especially with how Satoru’s imposing stature makes him appear nearly a whole head taller. He obnoxiously encroaches onto Suguru’s personal space, pushing him back until Suguru is practically forced to lean his head as far back as possible as he is pressed wantonly against the altar.

The white bandages hide Satoru’s eyes, and Suguru doesn’t like that. He can’t see him for who he really is, the big blue eyed boy who had cried and begged and ran into a car just for Suguru to stay.

Reaching his hand over, he loosens the fabric around Satoru’s eyes, revealing those brilliantly lit cerulean orbs that Suguru knows so well.

He dreams of them, even in his sleep.

There’s always so much emotion to be found in his gaze. Satoru looks at Suguru like he has never wanted anything more in his life. Years of pent-up yearning and lust surge forth all at once, and Satoru looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Having grown so well into his features, he’s become so devastatingly handsome.

Under normal circumstances, Suguru might have even turned shy. But these aren’t normal circumstances; and this isn’t a perfectly happy reunion. Suguru doesn’t deserve him one bit.

“I’m broken now,” Suguru whispers to him, even as his hands raise to tenderly cup at Satoru’s jaw—now so strong, so well-defined, so masculine—in the manner he used to do for him as a kid. “I’m tainted. My soul is corrupt. I’ve gone against everything I’ve always taught you to do. I’m, I’m not kind, Satoru. I no longer have a place in the jujutsu world, but your future is still so bright. You’re supposed to save them all. I, I don’t want to, anymore.”

Suguru wonders about the version of himself that Satoru sees: with dishevelled long hair cascading past his shoulders, instead of the meticulously tied, refined bun he once sported in their youth. Dark circles beneath his eyes clearly betraying his weariness, and age. He’s not beautiful anymore.

Without a second’s hesitation, Satoru captures Suguru’s thin wrist mid-air, as though to plead with the omega to hear him out. He frowns, though, when he realises just how little Suguru has been eating. Desperate to reassure him, Satoru says, “Suguru-san, you don’t have to worry. I’m the Gojo clan head, and whatever I say holds weight. My entire clan knows I’ve marked you as my omega since aeons ago. No one will protest if I take my rightful omega back.”

What a fancy pipe dream. Suguru bares his teeth at him, scoffing, “Satoru, they want me dead.”

“Then, I’ll want them dead,” Satoru declares, as he rubs his nose against Suguru’s wrist, inhaling his alluring scent deeply. As if descending into a lovesick trance, Satoru kisses his skin ever so sweetly. Suguru briefly trembles, weak under the spell of his alpha submitting to him. “Suguruuu, haven’t you realised? I’m in control of this world. Whatever I say, people will obey.”

The sheer arrogance of it all!

Suguru’s just glad to see that Satoru has grown into a much happier individual, as opposed to the glum and disinterested look he had on all the time.

“You would go against everyone else because of me?” Suguru cautiously asks.

“Yes,” Satoru vows, glancing up at him from beneath his lashes, while playfully nipping at the skin on Suguru’s dainty wrist. “My beautiful omega. Won’t you come home with me?”

And perhaps it is sheer exhaustion, or perhaps Suguru has simply grown tired from all of the violence.

But when his lips move quicker than his thoughts can keep up, and he utters out a soft, “Alright,” Suguru can’t find it in him to take it back.

Fluttering his long, wispy lashes back up to look at his rightful alpha, Suguru gently cradles Satoru’s cheeks.

“I’m not feeling so shy anymore,” he suddenly whispers in the boldest move he’s made to date, as he tips on his toes and gazes at Satoru with his foxy little eyes. “Did you still want that kiss?”

Satoru doesn’t need to be asked a second time. He lunges forward like a starving child, devouring Suguru’s cherry-red lips whole, after almost a decade long wait.

And Suguru thinks to himself, maybe I don’t so much regret playing house, after all.