Chapter Text
“WHAT???” Yuta exclaimed.
“Yup! It’s true!” Gojo said, his smile as wide as ever.
It was nearing dusk at Jujutsu Tech. Yuta has been returning from a training bout when he ran into Gojo, his mentor. What he expected to be a quick, friendly conversation had turned into a discussion that he was not particularly fond of.
“The council decided that you would benefit from studying away from Jujutsu Tech, so they’re sending you abroad!” Gojo said, still beaming.
Yuta was dumbfounded, “I…don’t…want to go abroad,” he said.
“Oh come on, don’t think like that!” Gojo said, patting him on the back, “just think of the experience! How many kids your age can say that they’ve been to Africa.”
“But I don’t want to go to Africa,” Yuta insisted, “I like it here.”
“Everyone needs to learn to step outside their comfort zone!” Gojo explained, “this will be good for you.”
Yuta stood silently, still partly recovering from the shock of what he had just been told. He had come - or rather, been forcibly enrolled - to Jujutsu Tech a little over a year ago. He had since spent his time honing his skills as a Jujutsu Sorcerer and forging bonds with others close to him. Save for a small scare around Christmas time of last year, he had been the happiest he had ever been in his life.
But now, that was in danger of changing. Gojo was the type to pull pranks, but something like this would be a lot even for him, and much too nuanced.
“How long will I be away?” Yuta asked, taking a sip of water.
“Depends on what the council decides! If you’re doing good work, they might let you finish school out there completely!”
Yuta started choking
After a few moments of coughing, and some motivated back taps from Gojo, he regained his composure.
“When do I leave?”
“It depends on how cooperative your new teacher is,” Gojo said, the slightest bit of venom present in his tone, “but probably in around three weeks!”
Yuta’s heart sank, that would mean he would be leaving at the beginning of March at the latest. He wouldn’t even be around for the spring. And worse yet, he would miss out on the activities later in the year that he and his friends had already planned.
His friends.
Gojo seemed to read his mind, as he immediately cut in at Yuta opened his mouth, “I haven’t told the others, only the assistants and I know.” His smiling face hardened for a second in a serious frown, “you should be the one to tell them.”
Yuta looked down and nodded, a frown already deeply entrenched along his face.
“So I really have no choice,” he stated, sounding utterly defeated.
Gojo’s face reverted back to his almost comical smile, “you’re always so gloomy! You’re not being punished Yuta, think of this as a once and a lifetime opportunity.”
Gojo turned away, waving as he did so, “I’ll let you know when we have the details! Bye-bye!”
Yuta half-heartedly waved back, not doing much to hide his despair. He began walking back to the dorms, lost in thought.
He really did not want to leave the school. In fact, it would probably be the last thing he wanted given the current circumstances. It had taken him almost a decade, but he had finally found a place where he felt like he belonged. And now it was being taken away from him. It was like a rug was being pulled out from underneath him, and he was hopeless to keep himself from falling.
Gojo hadn’t told the others yet, and he probably wouldn’t. But what would he tell them? ‘Hey sorry, you guys are great but I’m going to Africa’? And didn’t students usually choose to study abroad in the first place?
He thought back to the conversation with Gojo. He could be a little overbearing, and painfully oblivious to social cues at times, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. He must have known that Yuta wouldn’t take the news well. Then why was he so excited to rip his heart out?
He figured that Gojo probably didn’t want to send him away, he had admitted on many occasions that he was one of his favorites (much to the dismay of the other first-years). He was probably being strong-armed by the Conservatives, and put on the overly happy act to signal that.
Yuta sighed and rubbed his temple. He hadn’t been expecting this type of stress so early in the year, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. For now, he just had to worry about telling his friends, and hope their reactions wouldn’t be to mortally injure him. Though if that were the case, maybe he could stay home…
He shook his head, telling himself to snap out of it. He could worry about the consequences of a fatal injury later. For now, he needed to get cleaned up and ready for dinner. He put on his best neutral face, trying to hide away his complicated (sad) emotions, and headed into the dormitories.
Satoru Gojo was furious.
It was a type of anger that manifested itself as a pure burning desire to destroy something. To destroy his enemies. Though while hot flashes like that were hardly uncommon, they usually resided within a matter of seconds, maybe minutes.
But not this time.
He had been called into the Conservatives' den early in the morning. He wasn’t subtle about his distaste for them, and he certainly wasn’t subtle about not being a morning person. He strolled in still disheveled from a long sleep, yawning as he did so.
“What do you want, Gramps?’ He asked, stretching out his body as he did so.
“Gojo.” The old man said, smiling as he did so.
Gojo paused, something was off. The Conservatives weren’t usually this nonchalant with him. He usually came in, got scolded, told them off, got scolded again, and left. But this was something else. This was different.
“We have some exciting news regarding your newest first year.”
Gojo stopped dead in his tracks. His brain put together the rest of the old man’s ramblings before he could say it.
“NO!” He yelled, much to the amusement of the Conservatives.
“We feel that he could benefit from an opportunity to study outside of the country,” the old man continued, “to give him a new…perspective.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Gojo said, still yelling at this point, “the growth he’s experienced at Jujutsu Tech is nothing less than extraordinary!”
“That may be so, but he is still a child in this world,” the old man gave a pitiful smile, “he could benefit from learning about how things work elsewhere.”
Gojo glared at the old man talking. Although his eyes were obscured by his usual sunglasses, his gaze was a piercing one that sent shivers down the old man’s spine.
“The kid tried to kill himself under your care, remember?” Gojo said, poison oozing from his lips, “he needs nurture and support right now. Not to be isolated from everything he’s gained.”
The old man waved his hand away, as if swatting a mosquito. A few of the other men chuckled quietly. They did not escape Gojo’s gaze either.
“I expect that soft way of thinking from Utahime, but you, Gojo?” The old man said, almost in a mocking tone, “what happened to the trial-by-fire mentality you used to have?”
“I never had that,” Gojo said icily, “I never sent my students on any missions that they couldn’t handle.”
He realized what he said as he said it, and the old man grinned, “I think a few of your students who are no longer with us would beg to differ.”
Gojo glared at him, “as I said, I never sent my students on anything they couldn’t handle. Anyone who knowingly did so is nothing more than a curse in human flesh.” He lowered his sunglasses slightly and stared daggers at him again, “and we both know what I do to curses.”
For the first time, the old man was taken aback slightly. He quickly tried to regain his composure.
“R-Regardless of your wishes, it was a unanimous decision among the council, please inform Yuta at your convenience.”
Gojo was already walking away, “please think of a suitable location for Yuta to study in,” the old man continued.
Gojo stopped in the door frame for a moment. A scheming smile spread across his face, hidden from the council.
“Africa,” he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me,” Gojo said, walking out of the den, “don’t forget to take your medicine later, gramps!”
He didn’t sit around long enough to hear the scowling from the wastes of life on their high altars. He had to get to work. He had the inklings of an idea, but that didn’t make the anger reside. There was one less tree in the forest when he left versus when he came in.
It was later that night now, and he was on a train to Kyoto. He had already informed Yuta of his impending trip. The poor kid was devastated. Gojo had broken a lot of hard stuff to his students throughout the years, but seeing the boy’s defeated expression made his heart ache. He didn’t deserve to be put in the middle of this, not at his age.
He was jolted out of space by hearing the announcement for his station. He gathered himself and left through the doors as they opened, pulling his jacket tight in an attempt to combat the frigid late winter air.
He couldn’t make things completely right for Yuta, but he could at least try to soften the blow a bit.
How was he holding up? It was tough to say. Unlike some of his other peers, namely Maki and Toge, Yuta was pretty good about being forthcoming with his emotions. It made sense, the kid had no one to lean on for almost a decade and had been close to giving up on a number of occasions. He made sure to take the opportunity to talk whenever he could.
But this felt different. Yuta was more willing to lean on others in a fight, too. It was probably the biggest difference between himself and the young man. But even still, he’d always try not to burden others too much. Yuta would obviously be hurting the most from this development, but how would the other first years fare? Would Yuta deal with this himself to avoid burdening them?
Gojo shook his head, trying to refocus. The kid was smart. The kids were smart, they’d figure something out. He couldn’t worry about that now. He had a meeting to attend.
He reached the cafe that was the arranged meeting point. Or bar. Or both, maybe. He walked inside into the warm embrace of electric heating and scanned the area for his company. The establishment wasn’t too busy, it was a Tuesday after all, and he was able to locate them quickly.
Sitting at a table in the corner were two people, one woman, and one man. The woman had dark hair that almost looked like a shade of purple in the right light. It was tied up with a white bow and obscured by a baseball cap. But perhaps the most distinguishing feature about her was the large scar that sliced through the center of her face.
Her companion was a tall, wide-shouldered man. He was wearing a large white hat and had a number of circular gold earrings. He looked towards Gojo as he approached and scoffed slightly. The woman also looked equally unpleased.
“You’re late,” she said, holding what appeared to be a mug of coffee (but in all likeliness was something a fair amount more alcoholic).
“I was about to leave.” The other man said coldly.
“I would have killed you if you did don’t worry,” Gojo replied. He sat down in the open chair and looked at his present company.
“Utahime. Miguel. Let’s talk.”