Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Suguru couldn’t pinpoint when it started. Perhaps it was always there, lurking underneath the surface since they first met. After all, what was he, a nobody country boy, doing in the same year as what might as well have been jujutsu Jesus and the prodigal healer of the century? Wasn’t that why he worked his ass off since the first day he arrived at the Tokyo campus, unable to afford being the weak link (socially, physically, academically—he couldn’t be weak). He wore a smile like a mask and buttered up his teachers, the windows, the college student working part-time at the nearest konbini—anyone, everyone. Geto Suguru had to be loved, to be perfect. If he wasn’t, wouldn’t he be replaced by someone more special?

Yet from day one, Satoru had been a thorn in his side. Between Satoru needlessly antagonizing and one-upping him or periodically disrupting classes and missions, his mask cracked and cracked until all his patience bled out. He remembered their first fight as clear as day, could taste the anger on his tongue and the heat searing like hate through his cursed energy (as for the events leading up to it, those were lost to time). Like a broken dam, the emotions that he’d kept locked away poured out until it drowned out his senses and not a day went by where he and Satoru didn’t end up quarreling, fists bruised and faces bloody.

Or at least until they finally understood each other (or rather, he understood Satoru). It was a moment he’d never forget—how could he, when it was the first time he felt seen? He and Satoru were lying on the ground, chests heaving with exhaustion after another fistfight as they stared up at the few clouds marring the sunny sky.

“I like you better like this, Suguru. You’re so much more fun.”

It was like Satoru handed him back his mask with a hushed, secret promise—you have to pretend everywhere else but with me you can truly be free.

(and perhaps those words, that feeling, made a home in his heart)

And just like that, they were The Strongest—Satoru’s words, not his—but he repeated them so many times Suguru almost believed it (until that fucking m–).

…was he ever strong or was he riding Satoru’s coattails? Was he no different than those people he secretly sneered at for crowding around Satoru with their sycophantic behavior? Was he just an extension of the great Gojo Satoru’s might?

(that implied you need me to be free oh so deep in his heart twisted into something bitter)

Suguru bit his lip. He was always inferior, wasn’t he? Maybe that was the feeling crowding his chest and hollowing out his gaze until it was empty.

“Hey, Suguru, you alright?”

Suguru blinked, his eyes focusing on the present. Satoru was spinning a pencil in his hand, flipping it between his fingers like water.

What were they talking about? Satoru was… explaining his technique? Or was it how he started figuring out his domain? He wasn’t even sure if a year passed since the incident, yet Satoru was already working on his domain and he didn’t even know where to begin.

But what did he expect? Easy, easy, easy—everything came to Gojo Satoru easily.

(no, deep down he knew that wasn’t true)

“Suguru?” Satoru said again. Shoko poked his side.

He shook his head, gaze sliding up from dexterous fingers to the blue eyes peering at him over dark shades. He could feel Shoko’s gaze burning into the side of his face.

“You’re so out of it,” Shoko mumbled, poking him again as if it would fix him.

“It’s the heat,” he said, fidgeting.

“You sure? You look tired. Have you lost weight?” Satoru asked.

Suguru pasted a smile on his face. “I’m fine. It’s really just the summer heat.”

They kept staring at him and he felt like melting.

“I’m going to head back inside. I forgot I had to drop something off with Yaga-sensei,” he said (lying and faking were the only things that came easily to him)

The AC felt like a godsend against his skin but his brain still felt like it was overheating. Since when did Satoru care about how others were doing?

(he always did, though, in his own way)

Was he tired? No shit he was tired—he’d been running solo missions back-to-back for ages. They’d both had. Of course he was tired.

But not Gojo Satoru. Things never went wrong for Gojo Satoru. Not Gojo Satoru, who came back from dying and was stronger for it (but he didn’t come back whole). Not Gojo Satoru who so easily asked him for permission to eradicate that useless cult and would’ve done it in a heartbeat without blinking an eye.

Suguru stopped. His hair felt sticky against his neck. It’d grown a lot.

Satoru could’ve killed them all… so why couldn’t he? What was stopping him? What was stopping him from taking revenge against the people who ruined a precious girl’s life for nothing? What was stopping him from getting rid of other useless, useless people who did nothing but curse others and create more work for sorcerers, pushing them to their early graves? Wasn’t he also the strongest?

….no, there was only one strongest, now. There was only one honoured one—Gojo Satoru.

But he’d get stronger on his own, tread down his own path. He’d find a way to clear the world of its filth, curses and vile humans alike (filthy, fucking mo–).

Suguru relaxed his hands. Blood dripped down his fingertips. His palms stung.

Yes, he’d make his own way without Satoru. He’d find his own path to becoming the strongest again.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Suguru knew he was too passive. Almost every attempt to ice Satoru ended in failure. His other half who shot for the stars and left him behind kept circling back to cling to him. On the rare occasions they were both at the school, Satoru always found him and did his best to drag him into something. And he hated it.

He hated it.

He hated him.

He hated Satoru’s easy smiles, the way he sank basket after basket when Suguru had to practice, how he aced tests without studying, the way he still shone as if the world wasn’t trying to break them.

He hated him.

He hated how every single thing reminded him of Satoru, the drinks he preferred from the vending machine, his favorite snacks tucked away in the cabinet, the goofy pair of glasses forgotten on a table he had won from a pop-up event on the street.

He hated him.

Why was it now, that every corner he turned in the school he bumped into him? (where was he before?)

“Suguru~!”

Speak of the devil.

A weight barreled into him as an arm slung around his neck, stopping him in his tracks. “There you are,” Satoru chirped, nuzzling against his cheek until he was pushed away, “I can’t believe you made me search for you. Answer your damn phone.”

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” A pause. “Why are you acting like it’s difficult searching for people with those eyes of yours?”

Suguru slipped out of his grasp and pulled Satoru into a headlock, giving him a noogie.

“Ahhh don’t mess up my hair!” Satoru wailed, squirming around.

Suguru only released him when his pale cheeks were red from exertion.

“Meanie,” Satoru pouted, cheeks puffing up. On a good day, it was hard to take Satoru seriously when he pouted (would you be intimidated by an angry puppy?), and now it felt nigh impossible to keep a straight face with his ruddy cheeks and mussy hair.

Suguru cleared his throat. “What did you need?”

“Ah!” Satoru brightened up. “Right! After my mission, I was looking for—eh, it doesn’t matter what I was looking for. I picked up Pokemon Diamond and Pearl.”

Suguru’s eyes widened.

“I’ll even let you go first for both of them.”

He was tempted to say yes.

“I can’t. I have to train.” Suguru turned sharply on his heel and continued on his way.

“Ehh?!” Noisy footsteps pounded behind him until Satoru was at his side again. “Is training better than Pokemon Diamond and Pearl? Come onnnnnn I wanna finish the game before we watch the show! I’ve been bribing one of the windows to record it for us.”

“I’m not letting you ruin my schedule.” He didn’t ask for Yaga’s permission to train with his curses for nothing.

“Then let’s train together!”

“Satoru.”

Satoru stopped walking, and for some reason Suguru felt like he had to stop, too.

“Can I at least watch?” Satoru asked.

Teeth worried at the inside of his cheek. He didn’t have a good reason to say no. “...sure, but only if you don’t distract me.”

Satoru grinned, miming zipping his mouth shut. “Silence is golden, as they say.”

Suguru rolled his eyes. “You and silence? Sure.”

But Satoru stayed quiet all the way to the field. Suguru couldn’t help but side-eye him as he stepped into the field proper, leaving him sprawled on the steps.

He ran through a light warm-up before summoning his opponent of the day. It was a Grade 1 curse he and Satoru captured in their first year. Its appearance was akin to a melted ragdoll, macabre and unsettling from all angles unless you glanced at it just so, where it sort of had a creepy-cute look instead.

Regardless of how it looked, he felt it should’ve been classified as a special grade. It moved so fast it seemed like it teleported (Satoru said it wasn’t but his eyes said it was), attacking with organ-rupturing screams and limp, clawed limbs that hit harder than they should’ve. Even now he struggled against it, barely fending off its never-ending barrage of attacks with desperate swings from Playful Cloud. He summoned a string of flyheads, running up them into the air for a momentary reprieve.

satoru would’ve beat it by now

The thought came unbidden, and like a poison seeping down from his brain, his body froze. He slipped off of the flyhead he was balanced on and before he knew it, his back was on the ground and sharp claws were a breath away from his eyes. They remained there a moment longer before the curse lumbered away, waiting for his next command.

Suguru sat up, eyes burning. A dull pain radiated throughout his body (he could deal with it—he’d fallen from higher places and walked it off). He chanced a glance to the side. Satoru’s legs were spread wide on the steps (taking up space as he always did), his chin resting on a propped up arm. Electric blue eyes pinned him in place (what did they see what did he see what did he look like).

Suguru jumped to his feet. He had felt Satoru’s eyes on him the entire time, tracking his every move with a burning intensity. It had made him feel… unsettled, but it was different seeing those eyes on him. And knowing for a fact that he saw him fail.

He spun Playful Cloud around him, listening to it crack through the air. Maybe he should slow that curse down enough for him to get a good hit on it.

…maybe not. He might exorcise it by hitting it with Playful Cloud.

‘Besides,’ he thought, glancing to the side again, ‘Satoru would be able to tell—who’s that?’

A man in a suit, a window, stood over Satoru. Suguru couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the longer he went on the more irritated Satoru grew until he finally barked something in response. The window bowed profusely, all but running away.

Satoru stood up, unfurling himself with the languid confidence that only a self-assured person possessed.

“Suguru!”

He perked up, acting like he wasn’t already looking at him.

“Can you believe Yaga-sensei wants me for another mission? I haven’t even eaten yet!” Satoru bemoaned.

“It’s your fault for not eating.”

“I wanted to eat with you! I thought you were gonna say yes!”

Suguru looked down (not because he felt guilty or anything). “If you finish quickly, we’ll raid the konbini and run through Diamond first.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue. He was a filthy, filthy liar.

“Really?!”

His eyes couldn’t help but go back to Satoru. He looked like he was glowing.

“Pinkie promise?” Satoru batted his eyelashes.

Suguru summoned a small curse to throw at him. “Stop stalling and go!”

“You’re so mean~” Satoru pouted, darting away.

Suguru watched him go, lithe shoulders swaying with that particular swagger of his.

“Satoru!”

He turned around, eyes bright.

“Make sure you eat something on the way!”

“Eh? What are you, my mom?” Despite his snappy tone, Satoru was beaming.

Suguru flipped him off. Satoru flipped him off right back before running away (was he skipping?), cackling.

“......”

He slapped himself in the face. The curse started up again and he leapt at it with a vengeance.

He hated himself.

He hated himself.

What was the point in distancing himself from Satoru if his traitorous heart always felt a little bit lighter every time they were together? How could he find his own way to rid the world of curses when… it felt like he was better when they were together?

(weren’t they two sides of the same coin, yin and yang, the other’s missing half?)

No, no. This… that wasn’t the way to get stronger. He needed to find himself on his own. Outside of Satoru’s shadow.

(but it was so, so hard)

All he’d have to do is keep avoiding him,

(satoru’s attention was like a drug)

keep filling his down-time with training or hanging out with Shoko and Nanami.

(he missed him)

He’d be fine.

The growing unease blooming in his lungs would wither away with time, and until then, the repetitive punch-kick-dodges would be enough to make the unease bearable. All he had to do was focus on being faster, stronger, and more precise to breach the gap between him and Satoru (he had to believe the gap could be bridged).

He could beat him hand-to-hand without cursed energy, but that wasn’t enough. No one fought without cursed energy in the field (not even useless people without cursed energy). Whenever cursed energy was involved, Satoru always outperformed him… he had to, needed to, refine his control and make the most out of the amount etched into his soul. Because unlike him, Satoru was born blessed.

Blessed in his lineage with one of the most powerful cursed techniques, blessed with a sizable amount of cursed energy, blessed in his fucking bank account (blessed in size and appear—)

Suguru waved the curse away.

He lost focus. Training was useless if he couldn’t focus.

He gnawed on his lip. The unease he tried so hard to ignore seemed to have wrapped its tendrils around him even on the training ground. He pulled his hair out of his bun, sweaty strands hitting the nape of his neck. Maybe Shoko would have an idea of what he was going through.

Suguru snuck through the halls, fanning himself with a hand since the AC had decided to only work in certain areas. (Well, he wasn’t sneaking but… he was. He couldn’t tell if Satoru had left yet.) Fortunately, he didn’t run into anyone.

He rapped his knuckles on the door of Shoko’s abandoned classroom-turned-office before poking his head inside.

“Shoko?”

The few chairs and desks left in the room were stacked against the walls, leaving the center of the room open for three examination tables. Two carts laden with supplies stood in between the tables.

He made his way across the room to the teacher’s desk in the corner, noticing a few new pieces of equipment in the room that weren’t there the last time he was. Stacks and stacks of books were heaped onto the desk, hiding the Shoko-less chair behind it from sight from the entrance. The chalkboards covered in her sprawling script didn’t tell him much about her whereabouts, either. Instead, it felt like it was giving him a headache.

All in all, the room was empty. Weird, but not concerning. She’d probably be back in her office after he… showered.

Suguru shuddered involuntarily, hands clenching onto his sleeves.

If he could avoid showering, he would. The grime he washed from his body always seemed to seep down the drain to only flow back into the shower head, raining on him again to ink an intangible layer of filth into his skin.

Tap tap tap, falling onto his head and shoulders. The sounds of running water always got louder and louder and he could hear them—

Every single time the water ran he’d hear their fucking synchronized clapping, see their stupid, smiling faces reflecting back at him from the pool of water at his feet, and then that tiny little voice in the back of his head would whisper, ‘Satoru was right. We should’ve killed them. Satoru’s always right.’

But he had to get clean.

But he couldn’t get clean.

The bile seeped into his pores until it was a part of him, until it filled his lungs up and he choked on it, oozing out the same filth he consumed. That disgusting shitty smell clung to him and he could never get clean no matter how raw his skin ended up. (he probably wouldn’t be clean even if he scraped off his skin—Riko’s death was still on him, her blood his. that smiling face that trusted him falling falling falling)

Suguru gasped. And again. And again and again and whycouldn’thebreathe—

The chalkboard rattled as he slammed against it on his way to the floor (what floor? like it, the chairs, the desk, the tables, his life, everything was spotty, desaturated, and out of his reach).

Get it out get it out get it out get it out

A curse was stuck in his throat. The protrusion in his neck pressed against his skin like it was trying to ruin him from the inside, spill his guts out like he did to so many curses before.

Get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out

He clasped a hand over his mouth. The other pushed at his neck, then clawed at it, then pushed at it, then clawed at it, then pushed at it, then clawed at it, anything anything to get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out

get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out

get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out
get it out get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you can’t get it off get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you can’t get it off get it out help get it out help get it out help get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out it’ll never get off get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you’re ruined forever get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out you’re going to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out help me get it out help me get it out get it out someone please get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out i don’t want to die get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out get it out 

Suguru threw up.

He rolled onto his back away from the vomit.

…Shoko wouldn’t be happy about that.

He waved a hand, summoning a curse. It was small, looked like a dilapidated hillstream loach, and didn’t even count as a Grade 4, but it did its job. It cleaned up any type of spill without affecting the object underneath. Satoru called it Vacuumon.

He weakly dropped a hand on his forehead. He was hopeless, wasn’t he?

“Ah…” His neck stung.

Suguru pulled himself to his feet. Vacuumon was finished. He waved the curse away and stepped over to Shoko's desk, rummaging around until he found a mirror among the mess. Angry red lines covered his neck as if a malignant cat got to him.

As long as he cleaned it up and kept it covered, it could pass as a training mishap. 

No one had to know.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Suguru threaded his fingers through his damp hair, putting it into two loose braids and leaving his bangs loose. It was nowhere near one of his typical hairstyles (it was too cutesy), but he needed something different. 

His hands fell from his hair to gently cup his face. His skin steamed, all flushed and sensitive from his scalding shower. Even though he lathered himself in lotion and moisturizers, his skin still felt tight, like it was stretched too far over his frame. (still, he couldn’t stop taking hot showers; the heat gave the illusion that he was getting a little cleaner, burning away the squalor)

He felt like shit and he probably looked like shit, but it was fine. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to see him. He was just going to pop in the kitchen, grab something he’d pretend to eat, and hole himself up in his room until Yaga needed him. Talking to Shoko could wait for another time.

“S-Shoko!” He bit the inside of his cheek. The scratches under his bandage ached miserably.

Perched on the edge of a counter with her nose buried in a book, why wouldn’t Shoko be in the kitchen right when he wanted to avoid her?

“Sup,” She lifted her head up for a moment, eyes twinkling, “Cute hairstyle.”

His smile twitched. “I just showered. What are you doing out of your dungeon?”

“It’s starting to feel a little too like the morgue since Yaga-sensei got me more equipment.”

“Ah…” Suguru looked away from her, not that it made much of a difference since her eyes were trained on her book

He puttered around the kitchen for a bit before settling on an apple and a few mandarins that he shoved into his pockets. He found a knife and slowly started to peel the apple. “So…have you been testing out any noxious gasses around the school lately?”

She gave him a funny look. “No? Have you been smelling anything weird?”

He shook his head, taking his time peeling to delay his answer. ‘I might as well tell her since she’s here.’

“I haven’t,” he said finally, “it’s just… I’ve been feeling weird lately whenever I’m back on school grounds, like there’s an itch under my skin.”

(it was so much more than an itch—it was a frantic burning, a bone-deep ache he couldn’t remove, a thirst for something he couldn’t satiate—but he couldn’t let her know that that much was wrong with him. there wasn’t supposed to be anything wrong with Geto Suguru.)

Tentatively, Suguru bit into the apple, giving the action way more attention than needed as he carefully ignored the eyes boring into him. Shoko’s gaze felt heavy and heavier still by her silence. (she couldn’t tell, could she?) “You guys are so pathetic.”

He blinked up at her in nervous alarm. “What?”

“You’re fine—well, I can’t even say that. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. If you really want my advice, Suguru, you need to start getting better sleep and eating more.” Her last words were accompanied by a pointed look at the apple core in his hands. “You just came back from training, right? Don’t let that be the only thing you’re eating. I don’t want to have to treat you for malnutrition.”

Suguru threw the core away, cheeks burning as guilt pumped through his veins.

He backed out of the kitchen. “Of course I’m going to eat, Shoko. Promise.”

“Mmm, but the food is in here? Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back!”

“You mean back tomorrow?”

Suguru sped up his pace down the hall as if he could outrun the words wiggling its way into his skin along with all his other issues.

No, this one would be different. He’d keep his promise. Geto Suguru wasn’t a liar (that’s all he was).

He pulled out a mandarin from his pocket. His nails dug into the flesh of the fruit, hastily throwing bits and pieces of the peel onto the floor. Vacuumon emerged from his shadow, cleaning the mess behind him.

He shoved half of the mandarin into his mouth, then the other half. It was sweet. He took out another mandarin.

‘See?’ He wanted to say, ‘I can still eat. I’m still normal.’

Peel. Chew. Swallow.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to eat. He was doing the best he could. Things weren’t staying down that easily nowadays so it was better for him to eat light.

(but he was still fine)

And it wasn’t like he wanted to be losing sleep either, but why sleep for long when all that waited for him were nightmares he couldn’t escape?

Peel. Chew. Swallow.

At least when he was awake he could do something, anything, to fight back against the literal and figurative curses that plagued him night and day.

Peel. Chew.

When he slept, all he could do was accept Riko’s death, mourn for Haibara again, watch everyone he cared about die, watch Satoru lea—

Suguru slapped a hand over his mouth. His stomach churned. The citrus scent wafting from his fingers did little to stall the nausea. Doors and hallways passed by in a blur as he sprinted to the nearest bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and dropped to his knees before hurling his guts out.

He heaved and heaved and heaved until all he could taste was blood and bile. His head dropped onto the back of his hand, the only thing separating his forehead from hitting the toilet. The disgusting mix of his meager meal stared at him.

‘Pathetic.’

He weakly reached up to flush, watching everything spin spin away. If only what was wrong with him could be swept away as easily.

“Fuck.”

He pressed the back of his hands against his eyes until spots danced across his vision. Shaky giggles spilled from his lips.

“I knew I should’ve just ate the apple.”

“Suguru?” A voice came from outside the door.

He sat up, alarmed. “Shoko?”

“Are you okay?”

He turned on the faucet, splashing water on his face and rinsing out his mouth. “I’m fine, why?” He didn’t look like he just threw up, did he? He felt like he was going to throw up again. He didn’t have anything left in him to throw up, though.

“You left your phone in the hallway.”

Did he?

“Ah, thanks.” He slid the door open and came face-to-face with Shoko. She stared up at him, unamused. (she couldn’t tell, could she? what was she seeing what was she seeing just smile smile smile)

He smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re holding my phone hostage so I can play patient for you again. Grab Satoru when he comes back—at least he can heal himself from whatever psychotic thing you want to try.”

“The only psychotic thing I’m going to do to you is chain you to a bed with an IV drip.” She shoved his phone into his chest. “Go sleep. This is an order from your primary doctor. I’ll tell Yaga-sensei.”

With her work done, she turned and marched down the hall.

“I was going to take a nap anyway,” he called after her. She waved him off.

“....”

That was close. (she didn’t hear him throw up, did she?)

The walk to his room was both long and short. The floor rolled beneath him, pulling his feet down like weights as the walls inched closer bit by bit by bit by bit—

Suguru slammed his room door shut behind him. He pulled his curtains shut and dove into his bed, pulling the sheets tight around him. (the darkness was welcoming for once)

He’d take a quick nap and everything would be fine when he woke up. He’d still be Geto Suguru, the special grade sorcerer who (was perfect) always smiled and never caused trouble on missions.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Chapter Text

Suguru startled awake, nearly falling out of his bed.

“What the fuck?”

He felt groggy in a way he hadn’t felt in years (at least, excluding the times Shoko medicated him for an injury).

He nearly fell to the floor as he stumbled to his feet, his body heavy. “How long was I asleep?”

Suguru slid back a curtain. The sun was setting, painting the skies and school in purples, reds, and oranges.

Okay… at least he didn’t skip dinner (Shoko would’ve killed him).

“Whatever,” he sighed, grabbing his phone, “I wonder if she wants to eat out—the fuck?!”

Shaky fingers reached up and touched his neck. Between the small reflection in his phone and the feel of skin under his fingers, Suguru could only conclude that the scratches healed.

He looked down at his clothes (they weren’t the same t-shirt and sweats he fell asleep in), back to his phone, and then towards the window. His dumbfounded expression stared back. His hands shook. He checked the calendar on his phone.

“What the fuck,” he said again, faint as a whisper.

(that loathsome itch underneath his skin came back tenfold as if mocking him for forgetting about it)

A week had passed. A week. Why did no one come to wake him? Did no one even care to check on him even though he was absent for a week? Why wasn’t he dead from dehydration? Who took care of his miss—

His phone slipped out of his hands and clattered on the ground. Someone had been messaging people from his phone.

“No, no, I’m overreacting,” he murmured, crouching to the ground and scooping his phone up. Maybe it was a prank or he got hacked but… all his recent messages sounded like him.

“...Am I possessed?”

Suguru shot to his feet. He’d ask Yaga—no, he’d take him off of missions for sure (and then he’d really be useless). Shoko, then. At least he stood a chance in bribing her.

He stormed out of his room, fingers trembling as he texted her (who wore him like a skin to text quips that only could’ve come from him?)

- - - sh0k07 - - -

>> rr yuo busy

nah wsp <<

>> meet @ your ofice

k <<

u ok? <<

“Geto-senpai?”

Suguru stopped abruptly.

(smile)

“Nanami! Are you about to leave for a mission?”

Nanami nodded, shifting in place. A travel bag was slung across his back and his cleaver was strapped to his side. “Are you okay?”

Suguru froze. “...what?”

Nanami paled slightly. “I-I just meant—since you got injured on your mission and I heard Ieiri-senapi didn’t finish healing it all the way…”

What. The. Fuck. He went on a mission? While (potentially) possessed? No no no, not in a school of sorcerers. Someone would’ve noticed… someone had to have noticed. Or else… did no one really know him well enough to tell the difference? (or was it that no one cared enough?)

“....I-I just…how…your side…doing…”

Suguru flinched. He’d just been staring at Nanami without responding, hadn’t he?

(smile smile smile)

He smiled. “You know how she is, always telling us to learn to heal faster on our own. If it makes you feel better, though, I’m on my way to see Shoko to make sure it’s healing right.” (please don’t think I’m weird please don’t think I’m weird)

“O…kay?”

“Anyway, don’t let me make you late for your mission.” he chirped, walking away, “Don’t get killed!” If Nanami responded, he didn’t hear it.

The path to Shoko’s office was a familiar one, yet every step increased the harrowing feeling pressing down on him. Shadows danced across the floors and walls, pulling the hallway into something foreign and unwelcoming. He felt like he was walking towards something he didn’t want answers to.

“Shoko?” He stopped in front of her door.

“You may enter, o cunning one.”

What if she asked Yaga to suspend him from missions anyway? For as much as she joked around, Shoko cared deeply about the sorcerers in her care.

The door opened. “Suguru?”

“Sorry, I was so busy cringing I couldn’t tell if I heard you right,” he teased, stepping past her.

“Do I ever mention when you and Satoru are being an embarrassment?”

“Every chance you get.”

She shrugged, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Someone has to pull you guys out of your own world.”

Something about the way she looked at him made him think she was also hinting at something else, but he didn’t have the energy to piece together what she meant.

“So,” she said, ushering him to an examination table, “What’s wrong?”

His gaze flicked to the wall (she added a maneki-neko clock). “Ah…it’s…my side.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your side? Didn’t I finish healing it yesterday? Did you mean your arm?”

“Isn’t that what I said—ow,”

Shoko removed her fingers from the bandage on his left arm (how did he not notice them sooner?) “Seems like it’s still tender. Are you sure you don’t want me to heal it? I have enough energy to do it now.”

“Keep your swoosh-woosh to yourself—owww,”

Suguru cradled his arm, brows furrowed. Now his arm actually hurt.

She crossed her arms, looking entirely unrepentant. “Is there anything wrong with you or did you come here to hide?”

‘Hide?’ He shook his head. “It’s just my arm. I think I slept on it bad.”

Shoko clicked her tongue, shifting her weight to her other leg. “If that’s it, there’s not much I can do other than giving you painkillers since you don’t want me to heal you.”

“That’s fine.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Gimme your arm,” she grumbled.

Efficient as always, Shoko unwrapped the bandages in seconds. She slipped sterile gloves onto her hands before cautiously prodding along his forearm (what did he do to need stitches?), releasing small pulses of cursed energy here and there.

“No swelling or irritation,” she mumbled half to herself, “Has the itching started yet?”

Now that she mentioned it… “Unfortunately.”

“Kay—ooo I have a new salve I want to try!” She eagerly darted away to her desk.

“Can you try your concoction on someone who has RCT to fix whatever side effects pop up?”

“And in what world would Satoru come back from a mission with his arm cut open?” The sounds of things shuffling paused. “I could cut open his arm and stitch it up myself… as long as he doesn’t use RCT…”

Suguru’s eyes brightened. She was… considering it?

“Nah.”

He deflated.

“Hey,” she said, huffing at his reaction as she returned with a small jar, “I don’t want to die if it gets out that I’m experimenting on Gojo Satoru.” She slipped on a new pair of gloves and rubbed a thin layer of ointment over the stitches.

It was odorless and cool against his skin, like he dipped his arm into a shallow stream in summer—

“The fuck—” Suguru hissed, attempting to jerk his arm away. Unfortunately, Shoko could have an iron grip when she wanted to. “Why is it burning like that?!” Scratch that—he had burns before. Burning was an understatement. This felt like he had acid spit at him and he stupidly blocked it with his arm.

“That means it’s working!”

Suguru bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘Don’t retort don’t retort don’t retort,’ (he learned the hard way of what happened when you insult your healer)

“Has the pain subsided yet?”

“No.”

She picked up the jar. “Uh, oops.”

‘...Oops?’

“Maybe this was the wrong one.”

“Shoko…”

“I’m kidding, don’t look at me like that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “The activation time is just taking a little longer than usual. The mean time of relief after the burning starts is 17.6 seconds with a standard—”

He stared at her in disbelief, tuning her out. ‘There’s no way she’s telling me about it as my arm is melting off.’

“—so how is it now?”

“Burning. Oh! It stopped.” He could’ve cried in relief.

Shoko stopped a timer he didn’t know she started as she scribbled something down on a clipboard. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad was the pain?”

“1500.”

She flicked him between the eyes. “On a scale of a vaccine shot to getting hit by Satoru’s enhanced punch, how bad was the pain?”

“Hmm… a 7, no, 8.” It definitely hurt like a bitch, but at least it felt like he could struggle through a fight with it. Satoru’s enhanced punches made him feel like giving up on life. “Wait, can you use a metric you’ve never experienced?”

“I asked him to punch me once to see what it felt like. Close your mouth.”

Suguru pushed his jaw closed with his hand (it felt like it was about to drop open again).

“I’m fine. Clearly. I healed myself right after,” she said, rewrapping his arm.

“I don’t think your brain healed properly.”

Shoko taped the bandage down and smiled at him. “You’re talking a lot for someone in range of my tools.”

He cleared his throat. “...I was kidding.”

“Mmm.” She stepped away, taking a seat on the adjacent table. Her gloves were peeled off and thrown onto the cart between them. “What do you need help with?”

Suguru smiled. “What do you mean?”

“I promised Yaga-sensei I’d cut back on how many cigarettes I smoke in a day. Don’t make me break that promise after–” She glanced at the clock “–two hours.”

“....” It was stupid of him to think she couldn’t see through his pathetic excuse. Was there a chance she wouldn’t press him further?

…no, not with that look in her eyes.

“I…” A half-truth would work, right? “I was going to ask you for my mission records from the past week but I can get them from Yaga-sensei.”

Shoko had access to all the recent missions of sorcerers that were sent into the field through the school…for some reason. He was pretty sure she strong-armed Yaga into it. In their first year, she only received mission reports as needed.

“Oh. That’s all?” Her tone was light yet she dug out a cigarette pack from her pocket, placing one between her lips.

“What happened to—”

“Shut up I’m not lighting it,” she huffed, trudging back over to her desk “Want one?”

Suguru bit his lip. A cigarette sounded nice. It sounded really nice. (when was the last time he had one?)

“No thanks. It’d be rude to smoke in front of you when you can’t.”

“‘Kay.”

The room fell quiet. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard and the occasional click of the mouse felt louder than usual, drowning out the soft hum of the AC and the gentle ticking of the clock.

He looked down at his hands. They were littered with callouses. One of his fingers was crooked from an accident when he was young. He flipped his hand over; his polish was chipping.

“Here.” A stack of thin folders dropped onto his lap.

“Thanks,” he said, quickly gathering them up before they slid off.

“Gimme your arm,” she ordered.

Suguru nervously held out his left arm. What more did she want to do to him?

“No, not that one,” she said, batting it away and grabbing his other one.

“Maybe you should have specified from the get-go,” he snipped.

Shoko rolled her eyes as she pushed up his sleeve. She wrapped a tourniquet just above his elbow and pulled on a new pair of gloves. She rubbed down his forearm with a wet prep pad—the sharp smell of alcohol burned his nose.

He frowned. Though he didn’t remember the order of the steps, he realized she was preparing his arm for an injection.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his words punctuated by a sharp hiss as she injected a syringe into his arm.

Shoko hummed and only continued the treatment.

“Shoko?”

“There you go, all better,” she chirped, pressing a bandaid over the injection site.

“Seriously, what did you just give me?” He asked.

She ignored him and went about cleaning up her tools. “Don’t do anything nefarious with those files,” she finally said.

He scowled, sliding to his feet since she clearly wasn’t going to answer him. “They’re my records.”

“And you chose to go through me instead of the official channels.” Shoko warned, standing toe-to-toe with him with her arms crossed. “I don’t want my access revoked.”

“Got it.”

“Could you sound any more sarcastic—oof!” Shoko fell onto her butt with a satisfying thump.

“I’m so sorry, I was trying to leave and I didn’t see you there,” Suguru apologized (he didn’t regret it. what was the point of his size if he didn’t use it every once in a while).

Her glare was withering and he took it as his cue to leave. “Thanks again, Shoko! Sorry if you bit your tongue.”

Suguru all but ran from the room, breathing out a sigh of relief when nothing hit him on the way out.

The walk back to his room was quiet. Both his arms itched.

It was just him. It was just him and his head. It was just him and his head and his thoughts and—

He slid his room door open. It was quiet. Clean. Empty.

He closed the door behind him. His palms prickled as if the folders were live wires. He sat down at his desk, spreading them out in front of him.

“.....” His skin tingled, like an uncomfortable itch had settled beneath it squirming to get out. The brisk beats of his heart were accompanied by a persistent ringing in his ears, creating an annoying discordant rhythm. He rubbed his palms against his thighs; they were shaking.

(just open them)

“.......”

(why are you hesitating it’s pieces of paper just open them)

He opened a folder. And then another one. And another one.

With every file he went through, he felt like he was getting more and more pieces of a puzzle. He still didn’t know what it looked like, but at least he had enough pieces to make a guess.

There were twenty-four graded curses: eight Grade 1s, seven Grade 2s, four Grade 3s, and five Grade 4s. That Grade 1 he fought in Sendai City… didn’t he stop for soft serve? And when he was in Katashina for that Grade 2, he helped that old man find the bus stop. Oh, and he vomited so much he started throwing up blood after dealing with that swarm in Nishiaizu. He should’ve exorcised them instead of swallowing them.

He grabbed a souvenir for Nanami from Daigo Town…went shopping for snacks with Shoko after escorting Yaga to a meeting…and Satoru….Satoru……

Suguru flipped through the folders again. For all the wisps of memories he recalled, not a single one was of Satoru.

That couldn’t be right. He could remember one of his senpais asking him what souvenir he wanted (what did he ask for?) but he couldn’t scrounge up a single memory of Satoru?

‘Is he on an overseas mission?’

Suguru scowled. Why wasn’t he informed? What special grade sorcerer did Jujutsu High have to manage Satoru’s missions other than him? Did they have another special grade sorcerer?

…what was he thinking? They would never replace him like that: he was indispensable (wasn’t he?)

But if he was indispensable, then why did he feel so hollow? Every mission was like walking across a tightrope with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and everyone was waiting to point at him when he fell (poor Geto Suguru: useless, useless, useless).

How had he finished missions before?

(he couldn’t keep doing this)

How could a younger, unscathed Geto Suguru swallow those pits of filth day in, day out?

(how much of him was a curse?)

Why did he feel so weak?

(wouldn’t he die this way?)

“...oh.”

That’s why he was feeling wrong.

satoru

“Satoru.” The name fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. His head swiveled around, panicked, as if Satoru would be summoned by his name alone (some stupid part of him was disappointed when he didn’t appear).

Of course he felt this way because of him. When did anything not revolve around Satoru? (why else would he feel his absence so acutely?)

“He hasn’t been looking for me,” Suguru frowned.

The irony wasn’t lost on him, but what the hell?! From their first meeting, Satoru constantly sought him out if only to pick a fight. Even now, despite his attempts to distance himself, Satoru still chased after him.

Suguru bit his lip. ‘So why stop now?’

He calmly straightened the folders on his desk. Thinking about it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He needed to confront Satoru (well, not confront—he just wanted to talk).

He jumped to his feet and left his room. Times like this made him grateful their rooms were next to each other. If he had to cross the campus to get to his room, he would’ve chickened out.

…chickening out didn’t sound like a bad idea. Simply staring at his door had his heart pound loudly against his chest, pushing higher and higher until it was clogging his throat. His ears were ringing, his breathing rushed and shallow. The door suddenly seemed so far.

What if he wasn’t in his room? Should he text him? Call? No, he hadn’t initiated contact in ages. (then what was he doing?)

“Just knock,” he breathed to himself, “Knock and no one will answer and I can go back to my room.”

His knuckles rapped lightly against the wood.

Every second felt like an eternity, His stomach churned again (he hoped it would stop; he was tired of throwing up).

“Yo,” came a muffled response.

Suguru let out a sigh of relief (why was he relieved? he shouldn’t even be here) and opened the door.

“Satoru~” he purred. The name tasted like candy on his tongue.

Satoru was in his chair, leaning back at an impossible angle he must’ve used Blue to get into, his feet propped up on his desk. The entirety of his attention was on the DS in his hands, blue eyes laser-focused. His uniform jacket was MIA, revealing a deceptively casual t-shirt that definitely cost more than the average cram school tuition and the arm muscles he’d been building.

Suguru’s breath came out shakily. The crawling, oozing sensation beneath his skin was gone like it was never there. “Satoru~ it feels like we haven’t hung out in forever~ Do you—you started Diamond without me!?”

The question was rhetorical (he was clearly playing it), but Suguru still felt offended when Satoru didn’t respond.

“When did you start?” Suguru prodded, drifting closer to peer over his shoulder.

“Some time ago.”

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek. No matter the version, they had a system: Satoru played the water type and he played the grass type. A rock-paper-scissors game decided who completed their run first and they alternated finishing with the fire type.

Satoru was using Chimchar. He either skipped a run with Turtwig or finished it already.

Suguru couldn’t tell which one he wanted to be true.

“You couldn’t wait for me, asshole?” It hadn’t been that long since Satoru brought it up, right?

Satoru scoffed. “I’m the asshole?”

“No, I was talking to Bluey.” The Blue-Eyes White Dragon plush on Satoru’s bed would’ve clutched at its chest if it could’ve.

“Are you being serious?”

Suguru rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m craving ice cream. Let’s go to that shop that opened up by the park.”

(no, no, no! you’re supposed to be ignoring him—)

“Nah.”

“I’m really craving—what?”

“I’m good.”

Suguru pulled back from where he was practically draped over Satoru’s shoulders, blinking stupidly at him. “What?”

Satoru shook his head, hair fluttering like snow in the wind. “Why are you acting confused? I don't care if acting stupid is the new trend ‘cause it’s not a good look on you.”

Suguru’s cheeks flushed as a scowl formed on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“There are few things I’m not perfect at,” Satoru started, humble as ever, “and understanding social cues is one of them. But some social cues I don’t get because I can’t relate to them, not because I can’t see them.”

(the sweetness in his mouth turned cloying)

“You were trying to avoid me—ah, no, you want me to leave you alone. So I am,” Satoru said matter-of-factly.

Suguru’s face paled (and just like that, that godawful feeling was back tenfold).

“That’s your cue to leave,” Satoru said.

Suguru didn’t know how long he stood there in shock until he felt a light tug from Blue pulling him to the door.

“O-okay…” he squeaked out, so broken and confused and pathetic that it brought color back to his face.

He slowly closed Satoru’s door behind him and walked the few steps to his room in a daze. He locked the door behind him and yanked his curtains shut. A thin sliver of weak light shone through, spilling across his feet. He pulled the curtains closer together; more beams of light dribbled into the room.

Suguru bit his lip.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’

Suguru crawled into his bed, drawing the sheets tight around him. He curled up into a ball, hands pressed against his chest. They were shaking. He was shaking. His chest hurt and his lungs weren’t working right and he was so, so cold.

But this is what he wanted, right?

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut. This was what he wanted to be stronger, to reach the title of strongest again.

(Satoru never looked at him once)

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Suguru went through the next couple of weeks in a daze (fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as that week-long blip). It was weird not having to worry about avoiding Satoru because he was already ignoring him. No, even more than the weirdness of the situation, it was like a hole was torn in his side, gushing and bleeding like nothing would ever close it up.

He would die like this. Or at least some part of him would.

But he couldn’t go trailing after Satoru anymore. This is what he wanted and it was working. He had never been more focused in his training or improved more quickly (he didn’t have a choice; all he would think about is Satoru if he wasn’t training).

He just… would have to make peace with it.

“Earth to Suguru~”

“Huh?” He narrowly avoided a ball of paper flying at his head. “What the hell, Shoko?”

“Can you throw it back? That’s my homework.” Shoko asked, completely unrepentant.

“No,” he scowled.

“Heyyy, I only threw it cause you weren’t paying attention. Poor Nanami was trying to get your attention for so long.”

Suguru’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Nanami.”

Nanami shook his head. “It’s fine.”

The three of them were sitting in a classroom and, honestly, Suguru forgot why they were there. He wanted to be back in his bed, under his blankets, staring into the void.

But he was here, so all he could do was paste a smile on his face and make the most of it. “What’s up?”

Nanami looked away, shrinking into himself. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“He wanted to ask if you were free ‘cause he wants to hang out with us,” Shoko piped up. “You should’ve seen how timid he was when he asked.”

“I-Ieiri-senpai!” Nanami said, flustered.

“Aw, was that it, Nanami?” Suguru teased. The smile on his face felt a little more real. “There’s a school festival starting soon. I wasn’t planning on going, but if you want to go, we won’t miss much if we leave now.”

A girl he knew invited him. He and Satoru bumped into her group so often in the city they ended up exchanging numbers.

‘How long has it been since I saw her?’ He used to call her up almost every time he was in town—not that they were dating or anything (they might’ve been if he wasn’t a sorcerer or if she was). But now…

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Nanami mumbled.

“I’m asking if you want to go,” Suguru chuckled (...now he really, really didn’t want to be around all those mo— non-sorcerers)

Nanami’s face flushed. “If you don’t mind…”

“Yay, problem solved.” Shoko clapped her hands, “Can I have your cupcake?”

“What? No,” he said instinctively. What cupcake?

Suguru’s eyes dropped to his desk. At the edge of his desk, isolated from all the papers and books (oh, they were doing homework—Shoko had mentioned that, hadn't she) was a large cupcake in a translucent box. It was a matcha cupcake with strawberry frosting.

“You didn’t even think about it,” she pouted.

“I’m not giving it to you,” he said. Nanami slowly raised his hand. “Or you.” Nanami lowered it.

One of his senpais got it for him and he had asked for it, but he couldn’t even stomach cupcakes at the moment. So why—

The classroom slid open with a bang. “Guess who’s back from his mission~?”

His smile strained.

Satoru bounced into the room as if he owned it. “What are you guys talking about?”

Suguru looked away.

“We’re going to a school festival,” Nanami finally said. There was a lightness to his tone that Suguru hadn’t heard in ages.

Satoru threw an arm around Nanami, leaning heavily on him. “I think I know what you’re talking about. I was invited to that, too!”

Of course he was.

“You should stick with me, Nanamin~ There are a lot of girls who like sulky little emo boys like you and have aced home economics to make you all the bread you want, you little foodie~”

“Since when did you know what Nanami likes?” Suguru blurted out. He didn’t know if it was out of genuine surprise or because Satoru started poking Nanami’s cheek.

Blue eyes finally (finally) landed on him, and Suguru tried (and most likely failed) not to shudder.

“For some time now. We got something to eat after a mission and it turns out Nanamin has great taste in food.”

“Oh.” Suguru couldn’t even tell if he was still smiling.

“Guess we’re all going, then,” Shoko said, standing up.

“You’re coming too, Suguru?” Satoru asked, peering at him from over his shades.

“I-I… no.”

Nanami deflated.

“Ehh?” Satoru tilted his head “Kiku-chan’s missed you, ya know?”

“I—”

“Suguru.”

They all turned to the door that Satoru left open. Yaga stood imposingly in the doorway, arms crossed.

“You’ve been requested for a mission. It’s a little under your level so it shouldn’t take long.”

Suguru shot to his feet, shuffling his homework together. “You know you can send us a text instead of scouring the school for us, Yaga-sensei.”

“Tch.”

Suguru shoved everything into the backpack he apparently brought with him and went to Yaga’s side.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

He left the cupcake.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Chapter Text

It ate at him.

It nibbled a hole through his neck to crawl down his throat, hollowing out his insides to make a home between his ribs and gnaw at his bones in the depths of the night, tearing into him deeper than that sorcerer-killer ever did.

(empty)

Satoru was like a ghost, a figment of his imagination. Intangible, elusive, yet always in his peripheral vision.

Whether Satoru was just coming back from a mission, sweaty and disheveled, or cackling away with Shoko (and recently, Nanami), he plagued his thoughts. Even now, in a small backcountry onsen ryokan that reminded him a little too much of home, Satoru was on his mind.

Every time they passed by each other like polite coworkers instead of (ex?) best friends, Suguru felt like something was slipping away from him and the more he tried to hold on to it the more it squirmed out of his grasp. Maybe he was going crazy.

(empty empty empty)

Suguru sank lower in the water, his hair spreading around him like the smoky tendrils of his technique. Maybe he already was. Crazy.

(he was so empty, so hungry for—for something, anything—)

He ducked underwater, holding his breath until his thoughts slowed. Typically, he would never do something so rude, but it was late and the onsen was empty. His scalp and face burned, but it helped. The pain had meaning, grounding him in the here and now.

He was here, in the present, in scalding hot water. Satoru wasn’t.

He resurfaced without a sound, tapping the side of his head to get the water out of his ears. The water rippled around him, and as it stilled he could hear the innkeeper gossiping over the phone. The front desk wasn’t particularly close to the springs, nor was the innkeeper speaking louder than the average person: he was simply too dialed up, hyper-aware of every movement around him.

>> “Yeah, I’m so happy that the ghost was taken care of. That bitch has been spreading rumors about my ryokan since it came around to steal my business. Kekeke, of course I asked around for someone to put a curse on its place.” <<

Suguru dropped his head back onto the edge of the spring, digging his palms against his eyes.

(these fucking monk—)

There would be meaning to killing her, right?

The innkeeper and her competition would only continue to curse each other, and the hate spewed between them would breed stronger and stronger curses until a sorcerer was among the bodies left in the wake of this stupid, bloody feud.

So there would be a point, right? The life of one, measly pathetic woman in return for all those saved lives, and most importantly, a sorcerer’s life. Why wait for there to be another Haibara? Wasn’t that why he wanted to be the strongest? To prevent another meaningless death?

Suguru twitched. Footsteps approached the onsen. He dropped a hand in the water, ready to summon a curse.

The door to the onsen slid open. “Yes, mom, I know—eep!” A bucket clattered to the floor, brushes rolling out of it.

It was a girl. A very shocked, embarrassed girl.

“I-I’m so sorry!” She squeaked, immediately dropping into a low bow, “I-I’m here to clean b-but I didn’t know anyone was still i-in here. I’ll be l-leaving now.”

“Don’t worry, I was about to get out.”

The girl’s face seemed to burn even brighter as she somehow managed to pick up everything she dropped and shuffle out of the onsen while repeatedly bowing.

Suguru waited a few moments before pulling himself out of the water. He put his hair up into a messy bun and shrugged on a robe.

He slid the door open. The girl was crouched down on the ground next to her bucket, pouting as she checked her nails. She reminded him of someone with her dark hair and big eyes. She shot to her feet when he closed the door.

“I’m sorry!” She apologized again.

“It’s fine, no harm no foul,” he smiled. She looked like she was in middle school—it was way too late for her to still be up.

“U-Um, are you a model?” She blurted out.

Suguru blinked. “Uh…no, I’m just a student.”

“Oh,” the girl said sheepishly, “I just thought…a-anyway! Are you really from Tokyo? At least, that’s what my mom said.”

His smile thinned. How did she go from apologizing to bothering him so quickly? “I’m not from Tokyo. I only go to school there.”

“Lucky~ I want to go to high school in Tokyo so I’ve been studying like mad for the entrance exams! Everyone’s a nosey passive-aggressive backstabber out here.”

He couldn’t help but snort. “And you think Tokyo would be different?”

“Maybe not completely different, but at least it’ll be something new! I wanna meet other students from different places and learn all about them!”

“...Why?”

“Because I wanna be a teacher!” Her eyes shone and her entire body vibrated with passion. “Trashy kids grow up to be trashy adults, trashy adults raise trashy kids, and the cycle just continues. I want to be a teacher who breaks the cycle, who makes learning fun and helps students find their passions!”

Suguru’s eyes stung. His throat felt like gravel.

“I want to be someone they can rely on… that no matter where they’re coming from or what they’ve done, they’ll know that someone believes that they can be a good person…” she slowly trailed off before giggling sheepishly, “I just want to be a good person who inspires others to be good, too!”

What was he supposed to say in the face of such naive kind-heartedness? Would the world break her down, too? (if he consumed her, would he bekinderbehappier too?)

“Akiko! Stop bothering our nice guest and get to cleaning!” The innkeeper suddenly appeared at the end of the hall. The way she marched toward them reminded Suguru of his own mother, always ready to scold him for acting out of line and embarrassing her for being anything less than perfect.

“I’m so sorry about her,” the innkeeper apologized. “She’s still young and a little foolish so her head is in the clouds with her dreams.”

The girl pouted again, and something about her mannerism felt so familiar it hurt.

“Maybe it’s because I’m still young myself, but I don’t think it’s wrong to have aspirations,” he said softly.

The girl’s face brightened.

“Good luck with your entrance exams. I’m sure you’ll be a great teacher.”

The girl bowed. “Thank you!”

Suguru gave her one last smile before retiring to his room (the innkeeper…it was best for everyone if he pretended she didn’t exist).

It was a small, tidy room and not nearly spruced up enough for anything else to register in his brain. As long as it had a place to sleep that was good enough for him.

He flopped onto the futon he had rolled out earlier, not bothering to change out of the robe or dry his hair as his eyes fluttered shut. Exhaustion settled over him like a blanket, dragging him slowly, slowly into slumber.

Suguru rolled over.

And rolled over.

And rolled over.

And rolled over.

And rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

He couldn’t sleep.

“I want to be a good person who inspires others to be good, too!”

Those inane words relentlessly bounced around his head. What did it even mean to be ‘good’? Was ‘good’ defined by society? An individual? Was he still ‘good’?

He pressed his palms to his eyes (he needed to stop doing this—Shoko started complaining about how frequently she had to fix his eyes). His actions as a jujutsu sorcerer were ‘good’, but his thoughts, his feelings… what were they?

Suguru pressed harder against his eyes. Moisture gathered on his palms. His eyes stung.

“The strong exist to protect the weak.”

The words were ash on his tongue, lies and bile spouted from a cursed body. He hadn’t thought about that phrase, a childish ideology, really, since they dealt with that cult.

He had considered himself strong, then. He and Satoru, working together to defeat whatever enemy that stood in front of them—and then they weren’t The Strongest. And then it was just Satoru.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

(the name was a special kind of torture on his tongue, his mind, his everything)

He was kind of useless without him, wasn’t he? Or useless in general, really. Shoko was studying to take the medical exam, Satoru was refining his domain, and he was…? Nothing?

He was no longer half of The Strongest, Satoru’s partner in crime, or the first he went to to complain. He couldn’t even be his moral compass anymore when he couldn’t even lie to himself without choking on the words.

The strong exist to protect the weak?

Why should the strong protect the weak when the weak would stab them in the back without hesitation if it meant their pathetic lives could go on living a moment longer? Why should the weak deserve to live when they curse each other with smiles on their faces?

Why should he do anything for them when all he was doing was marching toward a pile of his dead friends’ bodies? His own death?

(he’d die this way he’d die this way he’d die this way he’d die die die)

If he was going to die young, shouldn’t he dedicate his youth to those who put their lives on the line every day instead of the (stupid monke–) ungrateful?

What if that was ‘good’ to him?

“...wouldn’t there be a point to that?”

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Suguru felt like shit, but what was new?

He was barely sleeping, hardly eating (he was just hungry)—it was a miracle he was still functioning under the rigorous schedule of a sorcerer (he wasn’t, he wasn’t). It’s not like he was helping himself with how much extra time he set aside for training instead of resting.

Even his academics were starting to take a hit (certain topics that previously gave him trouble seemed out to get him now that he didn’t have the genius Satoru to bounce ideas off of).

But if he was one thing, it was adaptable (even if it felt like hell adapting). As long as he put one foot in front of the other, tomorrow would come, and if he died in the field because he carelessly left his body on auto-pilot… well, who would really mourn for him?

“Suguru!”

He startled, nearly falling off the steps he was perched on. Shoko popped out of nowhere, standing in front of him with a lively look in her eyes he hadn’t seen in ages. She didn’t even have a cigarette in her mouth.

“Answer your phone next time, you wannabe emo. Do you know how long I was searching for you? Let’s go.”

“Go where? I’m training right now,” Suguru grumbled sullenly. He wasn’t emo.

She looked him up and down, unimpressed. “Training how to sit like the poster child for depression?”

He scowled, pushing himself to his feet. (his head swam momentarily, an unfortunate reminder of his precarious health did he eat after he got up?)

Maybe he didn’t start training yet, but he had been trying his best to psych himself up for it (for hours and hours).

“Come on before Satoru antagonizes them into leaving before we can say hi.” Shoko grabbed his hand to tug him along, making him flinch and… how long had it been since he’d touched another person outside of training and bandaging wounds? Had he really shut himself out from the world the moment he withdrew from Satoru?

“Who are we greeting?” He managed to ask evenly.

“Mei Mei and Utahime,” Shoko responded.

“Mei Mei and Utahime? Why are they here?”

“I dunno. Utahime just told me they were here.”

Suguru frowned. It couldn’t be a good sign that they were stopping here when there was more than enough time for them to get back to Kyoto before the sun even started setting. Did they need backup for a mission?

“They haven’t left yet,” Shoko sighed in relief, finally coming to a stop.

They were in the front courtyard with the vending machines and the overhang. Satoru was leaning against one of the vending machines, drink in hand, as he chatted up Mei Mei and an unenthused Utahime, whose mood took a complete 180 when she saw Shoko.

“Shoko~” Utahime cried, dashing towards her, “Save me from this annoying bastard!”

Shoko gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to catch Utahime. “How are you doing, Utahime-senpai?”

“Much better, now that someone sane is here. Gojo’s acting weird. Uh, weirder than usual.” Utahime glanced at him before dropping her voice lower. “Like flirting with Mei Mei weird.”

Suguru bit his lip. Shoko’s nose scrunched up. “Whaaat?” Shoko drawled.

“Right?” Utahime whispered.

Suguru couldn’t say anything, not when the proof was right in front of him. Satoru leaned against the vending machine, emphasizing his long, elegant curves and developing muscle as he peered over his glasses in a way that guaranteed turning the recipient into mush.

He would know. He’d seen Satoru level that gaze on many girls in the past. He’d even borne the brunt of Satoru’s flirting before when he was bored: the seductive stare, the cocky lilt in his voice, the smug smile and occasional laughs that revealed his fangs.

(he wanted that attention on him again so badly)

“Suguru, are you okay?” Shoko asked.

Suguru blinked, finally dragging his eyes away from Satoru. His bottom lip stung.

“What?” He asked. Neither Shoko or Utahime answered. Their eyes were glued to some point over his shoulder, an uneasy expression on their faces. He turned around in time to see a strip of black space (that looked an awful lot like his technique) close. Nothing really out of the ordinary except he didn’t try to summon any curses.

“Is everything alright over there, Geto?” Mei Mei called out.

Now Satoru and Mei Mei were looking over at him. (why did Satoru turn now?)

“Yeah,” he said.

Mei Mei immediately turned back to Satoru, but Satoru…Satoru stared at him from over his glasses as if he was drinking in the sight. Those eyes danced across his skin, a feeling more fleeting than physical touch yet all the more exhilarating. They peeled away his layers, pulled off his mask and saw—

Satoru turned back to Mei Mei.

Suguru inhaled sharply. His throat was dry. An emptiness settled in the pit of his stomach. (if he was empty, why did it feel so heavy?) Were they standing closer together? Why did it look like they were standing closer together?

“I’m going back to my room to rest,” he blurted out.

“Are you okay?” Utahime asked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t been feeling very well since I got up.”

(because he was hungry hungry hungry)

“That’s your first good idea in a while,” Shoko teased, “Rest well.”

“I hope you feel better, Geto,” Utahime added.

He smiled weakly. “Thanks. If you leave before I wake up, I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t know what he’d do if he stayed there a second longer (cry, probably).

The walk back to his room only deepened the hollow ache in his gut. He mechanically closed the door behind him, going through the familiar motions of closing his curtains, slipping into more comfortable clothes, and curling up under his sheets (there was a reason he always left the AC blasting in his room no matter the temperature).

Suguru stared at a wall.

There were so many things he could be doing with his time yet here he was, hiding away from the world like a coward. Satoru never would’ve done this. Satoru always pressed forward, confronting things head on. So why didn’t Satoru corner him and ask him what was going on?

…Satoru must’ve realized how useless he was. Why else would he not have gone after him earlier? It wasn’t like Mei Mei ranked high on the list of people he liked…unless…

Suguru pressed his palms to his eyes, shaking his head.

No no no, Mei Mei was…she was Satoru’s type, wasn’t she? Tall, beautiful, and a capable sorcerer who never stopped innovating her technique. They were even flirting earlier—or at least he was sure Satoru was, and Mei Mei was cunning enough to go along with it.

No one with a brain would say no to Gojo Satoru, after all. No one but him, that i—

Suguru whipped around, spots dancing across his vision as he scanned the room.

“....” He thought he heard something.

Anyway, how could Satoru possibly downgrade from him to Mei Mei? What did she have that he didn’t? Tits? An hourglass figure? A sizable bank account? International connections? A— oh.

Satoru needed an heir, didn’t he?

He’d…this…it was the one thing he’d never be able to beat her in (not that he’d want to—his relationship with Satoru had never been like that).

(liar)

But still, even if he was lacking as a…best friend (through his own volition or because Satoru got tired of him?)…there were so many better choices than Mei Mei. She’d throw anyone under the bus if the price was right.

(but…hadn’t they looked good together?)

Suguru angrily rolled onto his other side, eyes burning.

No…no. He wouldn’t allow it. Even if they were ex-best friends, he couldn’t let Satoru ruin himself with Mei Mei of all people.

Going straight to Satoru wasn’t an option (how pathetic would it be to have their first proper conversation in ages be about this?), so he’d have to convince Mei Mei.

He definitely didn’t have the funds to coerce her with the usual route, not that he thought there was an apt price for turning down an opportunity to get into Gojo Satoru’s good graces, anyway. What other options did he have? He could ask Shoko to act as an intermediary—ah. Ah!

Suguru’s eyes lit up. The answer was right in front of him—no Mei Mei, no problem! He’d just (eat) get rid of her!

But what would be the best way…? He was better than her at hand-to-hand combat, but it would be difficult to subdue her if she reinforced herself with cursed energy and he couldn't afford to leave any residuals behind. Perhaps catching her off guard with a cursed blade would be better. Or…he could just kill her with his curses. Yes… he could ask her for a friendly spar, let her attack first, and then finish the job before she suspects anything (yes yes yes). As for his excuse, he’d just say she attacked him out of nowhere. No one would say it but everyone would assume she’d attacked him for a bounty. He’d get off scot-free.

It was perfect.

But…

…but what if the internal investigation pinned the blame on him? What if they tried to execute him? Could he commit to leaving everything behind?

Suguru snorted. What was he thinking? He’d leave in a heartbeat (then he could finally execute the method that special grade sorcerer told him about). No matter what he did, no matter what he chose, the only future waiting for him was death and an ever-growing pile of sorcerer bones. And if they caught him after he left, well, he had no problem doing their job for them.

Either way, he was going to end up dead in the end. No one would miss him (liar liar liar).

…would they send…?

He shoved his palms against his eyes, taking in shaky breaths. No no no no no no no. They wouldn’t send—but if they did? Would he…would Satoru kill him? (but wouldn’t he be special to him again, that way?)

Suguru sat up with a start, eyes scouring the room for any sign of movement.

“...I must be going crazy,” he chuckled weakly

(he was crazy)

He could’ve sworn he heard something—no, he must’ve heard something. He wasn’t a special grade for nothing: the skills he honed over the years kept him alive all this time. Lowering his guard was unacceptable.

Time seemed to drag its feet now that he wasn’t spiraling in his own head. His eyes traced a meaningless pattern across the room, watching, waiting…

His hand lashed out.

“What the fuck?”

He caught a smear of black space. It really looked like his technique, the edges of it cracked and blurred like glass.

Suguru dropped his hand. The smear had split in two, both ends tapering off to the middle with a gap between them the size of his fist. He rolled off of his bed, snatching a pencil from his desk before clambering back on it.

He poked the pencil into each hole and then his fingers (he felt like there was a joke to be made there).

“It seems safe enough?” He mused aloud, flexing his hand in one of the tears. He reached a hand in each tear, feeling around until his hands touched. It didn’t feel like anything. There didn’t even seem to be a temperature difference. 

He pressed a palm against the edge of the tear and pushed, expanding it (it was a strange, strange feeling, pushing against space and feeling an edge). A low sound grated against his ears as the tears merged into one.

“......this is a bad idea.”

(a really bad idea)

But if he feared the unknown, he never would’ve developed his technique (maybe he shouldn’t have).

Suguru leaned closer to the hole. If his hands were fine, his head would be, too. He leaned closer and closer and closer until his head was yanked in with a sucking sound and a pop (it was a vacuum, fuck him).

‘Shit. Shit.’ He knew it was a (really really) bad idea. ‘Don’t panic, stay calm.’

He couldn’t breathe.

(breathe calm calm calm)

Something kept pulling on him, trying to drag him deeper into the void. His hands scrabbled for anything he could use for leverage to pull himself out (the bed, use the bed).

“Pwuah!” His chest heaved uncontrollably. The edges of the hole rippled mockingly.

Suguru pressed down on the outside of the hole (it really was a strange sensation, pushing against what equated to a rip in space) until it closed with a sorrowful groan.

“What… the fuck…” His lungs hurt, his face felt frozen, and— “There’s no residuals.”

He scooted off of his bed and circled the spot where the tear was. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find anything. But there had to be a trace. Even if he couldn’t see it, Satoru probably could—

Suguru paused, already halfway out the door.

What was he thinking?

He backed away slowly and locked his door. This was something he needed to figure out on his own. He paced around the room, teeth worrying at his lips.

What was that? The reverse of his technique? His domain? Could he do it again? Could he use it to…

(hungry hungry hungry)

The air groaned. Space cracked in front of him, tiny pieces of the sky fell into nothingness revealing a hole the size of a thimble. He fumbled around for the pencil.

The cracks were like hardened glass—he was worried the pencil was going to snap before it budged a centimetre.

‘What if I…?’

He balanced the pencil halfway through the hole and carefully, carefully, reached around the back to close it. The hole creaked closed and half of the pencil fell to the floor with a snap. His eyes glittered. What a useful skill. If he opened it again in the same spot, would the other half of the pencil still be there?

Suguru reached out, fingers brushing against nothing but air. The same way he manifested his technique from nothing, he’d manifest the opening.

He pushed against nothing nothing nothing, and then the tiniest spot of resistance. He dug into it harder and harder until a crack hit his ears and a fracture appeared in the air.

‘Perfect.’

He pressed and pulled and tugged and teared and ripped and ruptured (like the innocence dragged kicking and screaming from him) until the crack was big enough to fit his head and then some. He leaned as close as he dared and peered around. The other pencil half was nowhere to be found, even when he rummaged around with a wary hand and thoughts of it on his mind.

Suguru hissed softly when his hand left the void. His fingers were raw and red; they burned as if he tried to pry open a block of splintered dry ice with his bare hands. He flexed them gently, feeling the sting in every motion. Figures it was a technique(?) that hurt him (not that it made much of a difference in the grand scheme of things: he was used to discomfort and pain to utilize his normal technique). He dug out his first aid kit that saw too much use and wrapped his fingers in ointment and bandages.

What did he know about this technique(?) so far?

“It seems to open up randomly,” he said (saying things aloud helped him think—it was a habit he picked up from Satoru), “I have to physically open it. It can be moved around. It doesn’t have oxygen and may pull in things that exude oxygen. Once closed, objects can’t be retrieved. It doesn’t leave residuals.”

It doesn’t leave residuals.

That thought alone bounced around in his head, beating in time with the thump thump thump of his heart.

It doesn’t leave residuals.

Wasn’t that as good of a reason as any to drag this phenomenon under his submission, to develop it into his own?

(eat her eat her eat her CONSUME)

(eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat )

(eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat)

eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat so hungry eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat hungry hungry hungry eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Chapter Text

A hesitant knock at his door broke his focus.

Suguru had spent centuries, ages, eons and just a few hours trying to bend his technique (he was sure it was some facet of his technique) to his will. He could rip open the void much faster, drag it through the air without pulling stretching pulling, roll it around his fingers like it was a marble and not an object of destruction—and this was just the first day! What more could he do if he kept going?

Another knock. “Suguru? Are you still sleeping?”

(if only he could open it without using his hands then it could eat anyone)

He flinched and swiped a stray hole closed. “No, come in.”

Shoko cracked the door open and slipped inside. There was a takeout box in her hands. He almost felt bad for her—how often had she come to check in on him these past few weeks?

(what if he used a binding vow?)

“It didn’t seem like you were going to get out of your den so I brought you takeout. Hmm, I guess Satoru bought it for you...Whatever. It’s your favorite type of soba~”

Satoru…bought zaru soba…? For him?

The pale light in his room flickered on; he blinked against the sudden brightness (the sun stopped shining through the curtains a while ago).

“What the hell happened to your hands?!”

He looked down at his hands as Shoko cupped them in her own. A spotty pattern danced across the bandages as if someone splattered globs of red paint across his hands. (how did he not notice he started bleeding?)

“And your face,” her hands migrated to his cheeks, thumbs pressing at the skin under his eyes, “You couldn’t even pretend to close your eyes for two seconds, asshole? How long have you been up?”

He couldn't really fall asleep last night, so…

“...around sunrise?”

She gave him an incredulous look.

“...before sunrise…” And then some before that. He watched the sky change from midnight blue to patchy pink to shy yellow to blushy orange to radiant, radiant Satoru blue.

“Shit. You just—shit.” Shoko started unwrapping the bandages. “It’s not enough that you almost kill yourself out in the field so you have to do it here, too, huh?”

(he felt so, so bad—wasn’t he just a selfish selfish selfish friend?)

“As if I don’t have enough work already…What were you even doing?!” Her cigarette was seconds away from slipping out from between her lips.

His eyes brightened. “Oh! I’ll show you!”

A hand cracked against the side of his head, bringing pain and a wave of nausea. “No! Stupid! It wasn’t an invite to damage your hands again!”

Suguru bit his lip, looked away (that’s right, look away from the pain you inflict).

Thump thump thump, he kept time with his heartbeat, letting it fill the absence of conversation and a clock (it was digital and resting on the desk behind his back).

“I’m not getting paid enough for this,” Shoko finally said, releasing his hands. He wiggled his fingers, pressed his hands together. They were good as new, if not tinged a little pink.

“...so, do you want to see what I was doing?” He asked.

“NO!”

Suguru held up his hands apologetically. “Sorry~”

“No, you’re not,” she scowled, turning around, “The food’s on the desk. Eat and sleep. Please.”

“Shoko~ could you do me a quick favor?”

“No~” She skipped out of the room.

“H-Hey, I just need you to check for residuals.”

Shoko stopped. An eye and a mole peered at him through the slightest crack in the door.

“Please?” He begged, “Just five minutes—no, three minutes?”

The lone eye narrowed.

“I’ll owe you one favor, no questions asked.”

The door slowly slid open, revealing a shit-eating grin. “Three minutes~”

Suguru sighed, shaking his head good-naturedly. “Okay. Stand here, eyes closed. I’m going to briefly use my technique and you’re going to pinpoint the spot I opened it at.”

She shuffled to her position, eyes fluttering shut. “If you sic a curse on my hair again, don’t ever come back to me when you’re injured.”

“I’m not trying to set off the alarms,” he said. If he couldn’t get her input on his new skill then he could at least get her to check if the residuals changed. After all, Shoko was the best at analyzing residuals (after Satoru)—her job demanded it.

With a wave of his hand, a patch in the sky crackled open, revealing inky blackness before winking shut. He waited a few moments before clapping his hands. Shoko flinched ever so slightly and turned around. Her eyes traced here and there and here and there again (he used his original technique so many times to compare it to his new one, it was a wonder he hadn’t suffocated in the residuals’ smoky tendrils).

“There,” Shoko said with a self-assuredness he always envied admired.

“Okay, turn around again.”

“Hey,” she said, voice dull, “You’re not even going to tell me if I got it right or not?”

“Why waste my breath when you already know the answer?” Suguru snorted, “Close your eyes.”

She was pulling a face—he couldn’t see her face but he just knew she was.

He dug his fingers into the air and ripped open a void. His hands were shaking (they were healed but his brain hadn’t caught up yet, screaming at him that they burned burned burned).

The tear rippled.

(eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat)

He snapped it shut. Shoko turned around. He jerked his hands behind his back, clasping them tightly (they were shaking shaking shaking).

She looked around, casually at first and then more focused. Her brows furrowed. “...there?”

She pointed at the same spot as the first time.

“A-ah, no.”

“No? Did you even do anything?”

He squeezed his hands together. “I did—or, I tried but I couldn’t get it to work in time and I didn’t want to spend forever trying to get it to work and ruin the—and just take more time than the first one.”

Shoko stared at him. Her eyes were like melted toffee and he found himself sinking inside, unable to look away from the honesty trapped within.

“Three minutes is up,” Suguru blurted out. He picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and opened the door.

“Hey! Put me down! You can’t keep running away from your problems!” She shouted, struggling.

“You’re being dramatic. I’m not running away from anything.”

Shoko, somehow, stuck her limbs in the doorway. “Then put me down, coward.”

“Hmm…” He tapped his chin. She struggled harder. “Nope~”

“You—fine, I’m using my favor!”

“Now?”

“Now!”

Suguru tried and failed to keep a smile from spreading on his face. “Down goes the angry kitty.”

She kicked his shin.

“Honestly,” he bit out through the pain, “that’s such a waste of a—”

“Who said that was my favor?”

This—

Shoko patted him on the shoulder condescendingly. “No need to blow a fuse. I never said what the favor was, just that I was going to use it.”

He gave her his fakest smile, “Sure,” and slammed the door in her face.

“Suguru! You childish piece of shit!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What was that?”

“I don’t even know why I put up with this.” Her words were low—he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear them or not. “The favor,” she said louder, “is that you eat and go straight to sleep after. And don’t forget to keep using that toothpaste I gave you. It’s a long-term study I’m doing and I need you to be consistent.”

That… was almost as bad as the first “favor” she asked for.

“...If you want. I was going to, anyway,” he lied said.

“If only I could believe you.” A pause. “Whatever. Wither away for all I care. I bet your body will be fun to dissect.”

The sound of her footsteps, airy and barely there, faded.

“I was going to, anyway,” Suguru lied said again softly.

His hands trembled at his side. He pressed them together, palm to palm. It didn’t help.

He hoped Shoko wasn’t too angry at him. He hadn’t meant to kick her out so suddenly….but the hole had moved.

(it had tried to eat her)

It wasn’t supposed to move after he touched it.

(it had tried to eat her)

What if it had gotten too close to her?

(stupid stupid stupid)

Stupid, stupid Suguru. How could he do that to Shoko? What was wrong with h—

He jumped. His phone buzzed.

‘Who…?’ He scooped it up.

- - - sh0k07 - - -

im not mad <<

lil dispntd <<

btw yga wants 2 c u in mrning <<

don’t frgt 2 eat <<

>> eating rite now

Suguru snapped his phone shut. It was zaru soba. He could at least… attempt to stomach that.

“You can’t keep running away from your problems!”

Shoko was right. He should eat with someone—at least he could force himself to finish eating everything then (even if he vomited it all up later).

- - - sh0k07 - - -

>> wt r u doin

? <<

cmn room w othrs <<

y u gona come? <<

>> just askn

Suguru snatched up the takeout and marched out of his room. Geto Suguru was no coward. He’d drop by, laugh a little, force the food down his throat (indigestion be damned), and leave.

It’d be fine fine fine fine it was never fine.

In fact, it was so fine already, and that’s why he was…standing outside of the entryway. Laughter bounced out of the room, exuberant and light.

(he’d feel better being around them; he knew that, but…)

…he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground. The light flooding from the room landed at his toes.

(Geto Suguru was not a coward…)

Even if Satoru was there… maybe if he just poked his head in real quick, he could mentally prepare—

(...but…)

Suguru yanked his head back, nearly knocking his head against the wall.

(...Geto Suguru was a liar)

He turned around. (why was Mei Mei practically on his lap?) Stormed down the hall. (what was going on between them?) The poor cardboard box creaked in his grasp. (he’d kill her he’d kill her he’d kill her he’d kill her)

He slammed his room door shut.

(he’d—

No, this was fine. He could gather some books on binding vows from the library, go over them, and fix this rubbish technique that mauled his hands.

And then he’d kill her.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Suguru couldn’t sleep. He ate (like promised) and didn’t throw up. He read through three books. He used the toothpaste and made notes on it. He made a binding vow (he probably shouldn’t have). He got in bed and tried to sleep. He couldn’t sleep.

His brain was buzzing an unfamiliar melody (eat eat eat) and it wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop thinking.

What did he do in the past (before everything went to hell) to sleep?

Oh. That’s right. He never had trouble sleeping in the past. He used to fall asleep the moment his head hit a pillow. Satoru was the one who couldn’t sleep. His eyes never stopped working so he never stopped moving. Suguru couldn’t count the number of times Satoru slipped into his bed that was too small for the both of them, all knobbly knees and lanky limbs, and talked his ear off. He rambled about everything and anything, hands fluttering like spindly butterflies, eyes electric.

Suguru had always complained every time he showed up: “it’s too hot,” “there’s not enough space,” “I can’t sleep with you talking,” “what happened to your bed.”

(he kind of missed it)

Would it help him sleep? (he’d never gone to Satoru’s room to sleep before)

Suguru rolled out of bed and grabbed his phone. He quietly stepped into the hall. Satoru was a night owl through and through, but even he should’ve retired to his room by now as time inched closer and closer to the witching hour. (he hated fighting curses then—they were unnecessarily strong, cunning, and just plain tedious)

“Satoru?” He whispered, knocking softly on his door.

No answer. Was he sleeping already?

“I’m coming in,” Suguru whispered.

Oh. The room was empty.

Suguru dropped onto the bed. The sheets were rumpled as if someone had been laying on it, but they were cold (the room was cold in general—the AC was blasting even more than his).

Where was he?

(he must be with Mei Mei)

His phone was still on his bedside table.

(that fucking slut)

Was he…?

kill her kill her kill her kill her kill her eat her eat her eat her

kill her eat her kill her kill her eat eat eat eat eat eat eat kill eat

eat eat eat eat eat eat hungry eat eat kill eat hungry eat hungry

eat eat eat eat eat eat hungry so hungry eat eat eat eat eat kill

eat eat easy kill eat consume eat eat eat eat eat eat hungry eat

hungry eat eat hungry hungry hungry hungry

Suguru pressed his palms against his eyes. His mouth tasted like iron.

(crazy)

Something was wrong with him.

(he was crazy crazy crazy)

He crawled under the sheets.

Whatever.

Whatever.

What Satoru got up to in his free time had nothing to do with him. All it meant was that he could take over his room, hog his bed, and wrap himself in that particular scent that was just Satoru.

Suguru buried his face in the pillow. Even after all these years (it had only been three), he couldn’t put a name to the fragrance that clung to Satoru like a second skin, and he had tried to find out. The toiletries Satoru used all came from the same brand: the bottles were a basic, monotonous color with swirling handwritten font denoting the brand name and what was inside, which was great and all but he couldn’t read it. He assumed it was a foreign language—he couldn’t tell which swirls and loops and lines and dashes were letters or decoration, and he refused to ask Satoru. He couldn’t appear that desperate to put a name to the smell that haunted him in his dreams. Besides, it was good enough for him to know it reminded him of the sea and something sweet and subtle.

…so who cared what was going on outside of him and this sweet cocoon of comfort.

💭

Suguru was pissed. Scratch that—pissed was an understatement. His skin was flushed, he felt feverish, and all those tourists clogging the onsen didn’t help.

And it was all Satoru’s fault.

That stupid, shifty curse hit them with some type of pheromones, and in any other situation he could’ve absorbed it and commanded it to negate the effects if only—if only—Satoru hadn’t panicked after misfiring Red and obliterated it.

“Geez, I said I was sorry. No need to keep that stick up your ass,” Satoru grumbled, flopping onto a futon.

Suguru’s scowl deepened as he dropped onto the other futon in the room. The only way this situation could’ve been any worse was if there was only one futon. Small mercies.

He curled up into a ball, back facing the room’s only other occupant. No matter how loose his clothes normally were, it still wasn’t loose enough. Hopefully he could sleep it off and pretend this never happened in the morning. Maybe they could even laugh about it on the way back to the school.

“Suguru.”

He groaned. “What.”

“Can I turn the light off?”

“I don’t care.”

The light flickered off. The room was dimly lit—the moonlight was strong enough to shine through the shades.

“Suguru,”

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as if it would block out the small whisper.

“Suguru~”

“What Satoru?” He wasn’t physically, mentally, or emotionally well enough to entertain anyone this late.

“This is really awkward, so…I’m just going to bite the bullet.” What if he didn’t want to hear it? “I’m like, really hard.”

Suguru spluttered. “Do you just—do you have to say everything that comes to mind?!”

“What?” Suguru heard movement. Satoru probably sat up to stare over at him with his typical shit-eating grin now that he knew Suguru was humoring him. “We’re both bros.”

Scratch that. He was definitely doing that.

“Okay, and? Jack off if you need to jack off. Don’t drag me into it.” He really meant ‘please don’t, have some decency,’ but he learned that there was only so much one could expect from Gojo Satoru.

Suguru jumped, straightening out his posture completely. Satoru suddenly appeared behind him on the futon.

“Satoru, what the—”

“Hear me out,” Satoru said lowly, dangerously close to his ear, “I know that curse is affecting you, too, so why don’t we make the most of it and try something new?”

“Try something new?” He repeated dumbly. He felt even hotter having Satoru so close to him but not quite touching.

“Yeah, something new.” A tentative hand landed on his waist.

Suguru flinched. He should throw his hand off, tell him to fuck off with his shitty weird ideas back to his side of the room…but…he let Satoru drag him back until they were flush against each other. His cologne-perfume-whatever had never smelt so strong.

“Y-You weren’t kidding, huh?” Suguru stuttered out for lack of anything else to say. Satoru’s hand drifted from his hip to his lower abdomen.

“Shut up. I got hit with the brunt of it,” Satoru whined petulantly.

Suguru chuckled weakly. “Who’s fault is that—” His words devolved into a soft gasp. Satoru pressed his hand harder against him, lips brushing against his neck.

‘I can’t take this,’ Suguru thought, and he flipped them around until he was sitting on Satoru’s lap. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not in the faint light, but his face looked pink, like a ripe peach.

“Sit up,” he ordered.

“I dunno, I kinda like this view,” Satoru said, breathless.

Suguru dragged him upright. He slid down between Satoru’s legs, wrapping his own legs around Satoru’s back to keep him close.

“What now?” Suguru asked. His face was burning more out of embarrassment than whatever the curse did to them. At least in the dark he could pretend Satoru couldn’t see his face.

“Um…I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d get this far,” Satoru admitted with a small giggle.

“Of course you didn’t.” He shouldn’t have let it escalate this far in the first place, but he might as well see it through. “Move your leg up.”

They shifted around until they were pressed against each other and holy shit it was a lot different than feeling him against his ass. Satoru felt like fire as he draped over him, forehead dropping against his shoulder. Suguru’s heartbeat fluttered against his chest, a caged bird desperate to fly away from this messy situation. He bit his lip and tentatively rolled his hips against Satoru’s.

‘This is so weird,’ he thought, ardently trying to push the knowledge that he was grinding against his best friend out of his mind. But he couldn’t say he disliked it. There was something appealing about hearing Satoru’s breathy not-quite-moans-not-quite-whimpers, slightly stifled because he was oh so prideful but he couldn’t stop himself from making noises anyway.

“You always talk big only to bail out,” Suguru couldn’t help but tease. He hoped his voice wasn’t shaking too much. “Are you going to make me do all the work when this was your idea?”

“Shut up,” Satoru snapped back with no real bite. Trembling hands pushed him back and slid down to his waist, fingers toying at his waistband. “Lift your hips.”

‘No,’ Suguru wanted to say. He lifted his hips instead.

His pants went down and what the fuck was he doing and Satoru reached down and—

“Fuck, your hands dry,” he hissed.

“You can tell? You’re awfully wet down here, though,” Satoru said, flicking a finger against his tip.

“F-Fuck off!”

“Shh, Suguru~ the walls aren’t the thickest here,” he said, and then he spat in his hand.

That was hot. Why was that hot?

“Look at you, leaking even more,” Satoru cooed, wrapping his hand around his dick. “Didja like that, Suguru~?”

And then he spat on his dick.

“D-Do you ever stop talking?” Suguru blurted out, his voice without a doubt cracking. His brain was malfunctioning. Why did Satoru know how to do that? Did someone do it to him before? Did he do it to someone before? Why did his calluses feel so fucking good? He also had a hand and calluses, yet Satoru’s felt infinitely better. The deliberate twist upward, the firm stroke downward, and the occasional flick of the tip—he was going to cry. Why did he have to be so good at everything?

“Can’t change the way I am,” Satoru said, and he spat on him again.

Suguru bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut. He would not give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Satoru whispered something he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing to his ears and began nosing at his neck. His shirt collar was pulled out of the way as soft kisses were peppered all the way to his clavicle, where Satoru bit into the skin.

“A-Ah, d-don’t bite so hard,”

He meant to say ‘Don’t bite me.’ He was going to kill himself.

“But you react so much more when I do, Suguru~” The words were uttered against the shell of his ear and punctuated with a sharp bite.

“S-Stop saying my name like that,”

“Like what, Su~gu~ru~”

Suguru whimpered. His body convulsed and sparks ran across his body like that time he crashed into an electric pole while fighting a curse user. His eyes were closed so tightly he started seeing spots, bursts of blue and white dancing across his eyelids.

“...so pretty…”

“What?” He asked weakly, eyes blinking back open as he came down from his high.

“Nothing~ Get on your knees.”

He didn’t have it in him to argue, flopping into position. His pants were slid down to his knees and a hand between his shoulder blades pushed him down to his elbows. It was only when he felt something smeared between his thighs he reacted.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just–” Heat pushed between his thighs. “–keep your legs together.”

Suguru twisted his head back and yeah, that was Satoru’s dick sliding between his legs. What the fuck.

Satoru draped over him, all heat, heat, heat. “Suguru, squeeze your thighs more.”

“This doesn’t seem even,” he managed to get out, voice shaky.

“You didn’t ask—fuck, Suguru, tighter,”

His cheeks burned. ‘This is so embarrassing…’ He squeezed his legs together.

“F-Fuck, yeah, that’s perfect, Suguru,” Satoru panted right in his ear.

Suguru was going to combust. This felt too intimate for something between “bros.” If he wasn’t careful, he could delude himself into thinking Satoru was actually fucking him, his steady pace dragging against his insides and giving him pleasure in a way he’d never experienced before. He could almost feel it—every inch of them pressed together with no clothes between them, the way they’d meld into one, and Satoru panting praises and pleas into his ear just like this, desperate for him like a mindless dog.

Suguru bit his lip. Nope, nope. They were just friends. Just friends. Best friends, even. Best friends who let the other fuck their thighs. Yeah. Totally.

Teeth sunk into his shoulder painfully, pulling him out of his thoughts. He heard a low muffled groan as Satoru stilled behind him.

“Stop biting me,” he scowled, shoving him away

“Sorry~” Satoru rolled off of him.

Suguru sat up on his knees.

“.........”

What just happened?

“Suguru,”

He turned. A wad of tissue hit him in the face.

“Thanks,” he said dryly, cleaning himself up.

“Sorry about your shirt.”

He looked down. Great.

“Uh, I can wash it for you?” Satoru offered, surprisingly.

Suguru shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He had no faith in him.

He pulled off his shirt. The sky crackled open and a fish-like curse fell out. 

“Whoa…it’s like a Roomba.” Satoru sounded amused as it cleaned up his shirt and the futon. “What if—”

“Don’t you dare give it a stupid name,” Suguru threatened, pulling his now-technically-clean shirt back on.

Satoru pouted. “I wasn’t. But now I will. How about—oof,”

“What was that?” Suguru asked sweetly, shaking his pillow threateningly.

Satoru tackled him to the floor. “Noooo, I’m sorry~”

Suguru flipped him around, trapping his face between his legs. “That’s a shit apology.”

Satoru tapped madly on his thighs.

“If I let you go, you have to stop horsing around for the night. Some of us want to go to sleep.”

Satoru tapped out a message.

> O. K. <

Suguru let him go.

Satoru immediately rolled away from him, gasping dramatically. “I don’t understand how anyone wants to die between someone’s thighs,” he whined. “Seems like a painful way to go.”

Suguru rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the fact that Satoru was just between his thighs a few minutes earlier.

“Okay, let’s go to bed!” Satoru scooped him into his arms.

“S-Satoru!”

“Calm down, we’re just moving to the other futon.”

“Why we?” He huffed.

Satoru placed him down like he was made of glass and curled into his chest. “I dunno. Just thought it would be weird for you to sleep on the other one.”

Suguru groaned. He was fine putting his shirt back on as long as he didn’t think about it so what was wrong with—no, what was weird was them pretending what happened didn’t happen and sharing a bed as if nothing happened. “Can we at least get under the sheets?”

“Get under the sheets? How forward~ oww,”

Suguru pinched his cheek.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna. It’s too hot,” Satoru complained.

“Then why are you clinging to me like a monkey?”

Satoru bit his chest.

“Don’t bite me!”

Satoru didn’t respond. Somehow, that annoyed him even more.

“Suguru?”

“...what?”

“You should call it Vacuumon—owww”

💭

Suguru jolted awake (he’d been doing that a lot, recently). It was still dark out. He was alone. Had he been dreaming?

He reached for his phone. Not even an hour had passed. He put his phone down. He closed his eyes.

Why would he dream about that now? It’d been ages ago and they’d never talked about it. Not that it was something that needed to be talked about. After all, their relationship was never like that. He’d never thought about Satoru that way.

He never thought about Satoru kissing the nape of his neck.

He never thought about Satoru kissing him.

He never thought about Satoru not going on dates or flirting with anyone else because he had him.

He never dreamed about Satoru fucking him so vividly that he woke up gasping, aching for something that’d never happen but oh did it feel like it did.

Suguru bit his lip, eyes fluttering open.

He shouldn’t (he shouldn’t). He shouldn’t (he really, really shouldn’t). He wouldn’t (of course he wouldn’t). But… (but…?)

Satoru wasn’t here.

Suguru pressed a hand on his stomach. And then lower, lower, lower—

He stifled a gasp (this was such a bad idea). He dug the heel of his hand against his cock. (but what was one more bad idea?)

“F-Fuck,” he hiccuped softly.

If Satoru was here…what would he say? What would he do?

Suguru pulled up his shirt, holding the hem in his teeth. His other hand ghosted over his chest, gently trailing across the sensitive skin.

‘He would pester me here until I was sore,’ Suguru pinched a bud. ‘And he wouldn’t stop biting,’

He pinched harder, shoved a hand in his pants. He was hard already—precum dripped between his fingers.

“You’re awfully wet down here,”

Suguru shivered viciously. He could feel him pressed against him, whispering filth into his ear.

“Su~gu~ru, Su~gu~ru, naughty naughty Su~gu~ru,”

He moaned around his shirt, pumping himself faster (his pants were in the way).

“That’s it, Suguru. You’re doing so well.”

“Please,” Suguru begged through cotton and spit before he swapped his shirt for three, no, four fingers, ‘Please please please please,’

“Open up~ Doesn’t my perfect Suguru want to warm my cock up in that pretty little mouth?”

Suguru gasped, shuddering. It was over all too quickly and all too slowly. His nerves, his skin, his everything was electric, like he’d shock himself if he moved the wrong way.

“Good boy~”

He bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

His hand was sticky, he was sticky, the bed was sticky— he shook his head. Summoned Vacuumon. There was a tissue box on the other side of the room. He cleaned himself. Shoved the evidence inside his curse. It warbled, choking on it. It wasn’t meant for things like that. It slunk away back into nothingness.

Suguru rubbed at his eyes. He should leave (no, that was suspicious). He should stay (less suspicious).

But that was…

He shook his head, fell back onto the bed.

What was wrong with him? What was actually wrong with him? What kind of friend snuck into their friend’s room and got off at the thought of them while in their bed?

(he had been doing so well…)

He wanted to cry. (why should he be crying when it was Satoru’s room he defiled?)

His eyes hurt.

(why were his hands on his eyes? gross…)

“.........”

At least he might not figure it out… and they could laugh it off if he did…?

(one of these days, he was going to make a really bad, life-altering decision)

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Chapter Text

There was something under his skin. It followed him from his dreamless sleep, pried open his mouth, and fell inside. Inch inch inch until it was everywhere. Along his bones, around his sinews, squeezing through his veins. Bit by bit by bit.

He wanted to take a scalpel and peel away his epidermis, dermis, and maybe hack away at his hypodermis, too, if only to feel see hear smell something different. Maybe the sound of his flesh peeling away would be better than hearing the squish squish squish moving through his body. Maybe flaying everything away would feel better than knowing his organs were being mushed down into nothing, liquified into a puree for something to eat but still pump pump pumping through the pain because he had to breathe. Maybe if he pulled himself apart, rib by rib like cracked bread, then he could poke his fingers inside his thorax and dig underneath his thymus and see what was guzzling the life out of his veins.

It would be useless, though. It was invisible, intangible, but weighed him down nonetheless. In fact, all it would do is bring attention to his eyes.

He wouldn’t be able to close them, anymore, seeing but not quite as something wormed its way up to his eye sockets and squish squish squelched until they were slurped up. And then he’d notice the smell. The smell of decaying dying decomposing. The smell of mushy, browning peaches; half-eaten, maggot-ridden mice; carved up, bled dry Suguru. The rot was all-pervading because it came from him.

But… where was the smell? There was nothing putrid to assault his nose, to force his no-longer-there stomach to hurl, just air and a whiff of the ocean.

And he was warm. He was never warm when something hollowed him out and made his body its home. He should’ve been cold. Bone cold. Corpse cold. And he wasn’t.

If he opened his eyes, what would he see?

Suguru opened his eyes.

One moment he could feel flies crawling up his throat, something rushing to his brain to empty his sockets, and the next there was nothing. Or rather, nothing miserable. Because there definitely was something. Like a collarbone. And a chest. A bare chest.

‘Satoru’s chest,’ his brain helpfully supplied, because he was in Satoru’s room in Satoru’s bed.

Suguru stared and stared. Satoru was broad (maybe even broader than him), but something about his proportions, maybe his lankiness, gave the illusion that he was skinnier. Until they became friends, he had thought he was the bigger of the two by far.

But now, this close to him (after so so long)...he could tell Satoru had gained more muscle. A few faded nicks were scattered about on pale skin, all from training accidents except for the raised bump adjacent to his heart and the long, cruel line down one side of his body.

Suguru didn’t know why they didn’t heal properly with RCT and he could never bring himself to ask.

He shifted away, carefully reaching for his phone. (he didn’t want to see the scars anymore, didn’t want to remember; it wasn’t like there would be any new scars ever again). It was early. Pale light bled through the curtains, brightening the room just enough that his eyes weren’t straining to see.

He turned back to Satoru. Were it not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, he would’ve thought he was dead.

(how long had it been since he’d seen him so…still?)

Somehow it suited him. Satoru was always larger than life, always moving, always doing, always fighting—but now, bathed in the grayish hues that would’ve washed anyone else out, he looked like he was glowing, like a fairy or Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, just more ethereal.

And it was something he’s always thought—Satoru was beautiful. He was so beautiful it hurt, a knife twisted between his ribs that dug deeper with every flutter of those pale lashes. The rounded edges of his cheekbones; the sharpened jawline that was half-way through shedding baby fat; the whisper of silky ivory strands tickling his forehand and the slight, precious pout of his lips— he wanted to press reverent kisses onto every inch of him, rain down the right kind of appreciation that the world didn’t know it should give him

Delicate and Satoru were two words that didn’t belong in a sentence together, but there was no other way to describe him at that moment. Without the weight of the world on his shoulders, he was just Satoru. Sweet, delicate, Satoru.

(he wanted to eat him, crawl into his skin and be him live him breathe him so they’d never be apart and he’d love him)

Satoru’s eyes twitched, squinching shut against a bad dream (or perhaps reality).

Suguru flinched, folded himself back against him, started breathing again.

Satoru was awake. Suguru felt him yawn, chest expanding against his own and ever so warm. An arm wrapped around him and pulled him closer. (their legs were intertwined: how hadn’t he noticed?)

Gentle fingers ran through his hair, scratching against his scalp in a pattern he couldn’t decipher. It took all his focus and then some not to shudder and arch into his touch. He understood why Satoru was always itching to be the little spoon—it felt nice, safe.

“Suguru.”

(he missed hearing his name roll off of his tongue; he missed it he missed it he missed it)

He didn’t react.

“Suguru, I know you’re awake.”

“.....”

The hand in his hair tightened until it was painful and yanked his head back. Suguru gasped, eyes opening in shock.

“Geez, you’re difficult,” Satoru huffed.

Suguru meant to glare at him, but the look in his eyes made him falter (he’d never seen that look on Satoru before—it made his stomach heavy and tingly at the same time).

“What do you mean?” He asked. His breath came out airy.

Satoru released him. “Are you done avoiding me?”

In any other situation, Suguru would’ve teased him for how sulky he sounded (now he’d just play dumb). “Avoiding you?”

Satoru pouted and his eyes narrowed. Even when they were bitter rivals during their first year, he’d never been on the receiving end of that look in Satoru’s eyes—the one that signified he was picking apart whoever stood across from him, figuring out what was the optimal way for him to win (or toy with them, batting them back and forth until they were dead or begging to be). He felt pinned in place: one wrong breath and his neck might go flying.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Suguru said.

(he truly wondered what gave him the confidence to be so audacious)

He fell out of the bed. Well, it would be more accurate to say he was kicked out. Literally. If not for his reflexes, he would’ve landed on his face.

“Wha—”

“Get out,” Satoru said with a smile (it wasn’t a smile, it was a death sentence: a permanent fall from his good graces)

Suguru stood up and left the room. There was nothing more to say (he couldn’t, even if he wanted to—there were razors in his throat). Satoru’s door and then his door slid shut behind with a gentle click—the drop of the executioner’s ax.

He face-planted onto his bed.

“Ow.”

He rolled onto his side and dug out a manilla folder from where it was poking his throat. There was a sticky note on it.

>> mission details. forgot to bring it earlier. hope you’re sleeping wherever you are. – Shoko <<

Suguru flipped it open and briefly skimmed through it, trying and failing to ignore the fact that she didn’t even think to check to see if he was in Satoru’s room. He was late for his meeting with Yaga. He changed into his uniform, sans the jacket, and packed up a duffel bag—it was expected to be an overnight mission. He quietly exited his room, bag slung over his shoulder as he thumbed through the folder again.

‘First-grade. Extremely fast movement speed. Cloth-like body can turn into numerous limbs, average number eight, no visible head. Strangles victims to death with body/limbs.’ Suguru read to himself. Other than its speed, it didn’t sound very difficult. In fact, it sounded an awful lot like an ittan-momen that had consumed one too many humans and evolved. Naoya would've been a better choice than him.

He stopped in front of Yaga’s office, biting back a yawn as he knocked on the door. “Yaga-sensei,”

“Enter.”

He opened the door and stepped inside, eyes curling into a fake smile even as his blood boiled. “Mei Mei. I thought you would’ve left by now.”

Mei Mei stood next to Yaga’s desk, her weight casually leaning to one side and emphasizing the elegant curve of her figure. Yaga sat behind his desk looking sterner than usual. Suguru walked to her side, his body angled towards Yaga. 

“I thought so, too,” she sighed, pushing hair out of her eyes, “But I can’t say no to a nice paycheck.”

“Of course,” he bit out.

“Suguru,” Yaga said, “Have you seen S—”

The door slammed open. Suguru gulped as Satoru strutted inside as if he owned the place. Satoru stepped between him and Mei Mei, throwing an arm around his neck and dropping his weight against him as if he hadn’t kicked him out of his room minutes prior. Suguru’s entire body felt hot. He wondered if he looked as tense as he felt.

Yaga clutched his head. “Satoru…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru sighed, lazily waving a hand and the door slid shut.

Yaga’s face pinched angrily, but he didn’t press the issue. Anyone who interacted with Satoru long enough knew when to pick their battles. “The curse,” Yaga finally continued, “has been moved from a Grade 1 to a Special Grade. We believe it consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers, and thanks to that, devoured the two sorcerers sent to exorcise it.”

Suguru twitched. Haibara’s face flashed before his eyes.

“The curse travels between villages at night but recent attempts of sending sorcerers or windows to monitor it has it running—teleporting—away,” Yaga frowned.

“So you want me to keep an eye on it with my crows,” Mei Mei said more than asked.

Yaga nodded. “Hopefully it won’t sense them, and if it does, that it won’t consider them a threat. After it’s located, Suguru will corral it and Satoru will finish it in one blow before it has the chance to escape again.” He stared each of them down, gaze heavy behind his sunglasses. “It’s imperative that this curse is exorcised as soon as possible. Should it wisen up and begin to target sorcerers, there’s no limit to how dangerous it could become.”

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “This seems like something Suguru and Mei Mei can handle on their own, Yaga-sensei. Hmm, or even just Suguru.”

Yaga’s brows furrowed again and the large ugly-cute doll in the corner of the room twitched as if on the verge of waking up. “Satoru…”

“You know how Gojo is, Yaga,” Mei Mei calmly interjected, “I’ll keep them on task.”

Suguru crinkled his eyes, pasting on his patent fake smile. “Don’t worry about it, Mei Mei. Doing that is more than what you’re paid to do.”

He promptly turned on his heel and exited the room before anyone could say anything.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Suguru tapped his foot impatiently, wishing he had a scarf or another jacket or anything else to put on. Early mornings were always cold, no matter the season. He could always wait in the car idling just outside the school’s torii gates, but he didn't want to make small talk with the driver.

He stared angrily at the long entrance staircase until Satoru and Mei Mei finally turned the corner. Suguru pivoted on a heel and stormed over to the car, sliding into the back seat. Ideally, he’d sit in the front to get away from them, but he never sat in the front and the last thing he wanted was to leave them alone in the back.

‘Hopefully Mei Mei will sit in the front,’ Suguru thought, teeth worrying his bottom lip, ‘And Satoru will stay on the other side of the car and everyone will be happy.’

Of course, he forgot to account for the fact that the world hated him. The side door opened and in came Satoru and Mei Mei. He was going to scream.

The engine purred and the car slowly rolled down the path. Suguru leaned on the car door, chin in hand, and stared out the window. No matter how close in proximity they were, as long as he expressed his disinterest, even Satoru would leave him alone—

“You remembered to pack your overnight bag, right?” Suguru was going to shoot himself. The words were mumbled against his palm but he uttered them nonetheless. “I don’t want you stealing my clothes again,” he continued, because he already put his foot in his mouth.

“Ehhhhhhhhh?!” The heavy weight that was Satoru fell against his side. “That was one time—uh, maybe more but! I remembered my bag this time, mooooooommmmmm.”

Suguru shrugged him off and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “I’d put you up for adoption if I was your mom. There isn’t a child in the world less filial than you.”

Satoru scoffed. “I’m plenty filial! I even went home last month when we were on break for the week.” He started poking Suguru’s cheek. “I’m more filial than you, at least. I heard you didn’t go home.”

Suguru batted his hand away. “I did go home.” Briefly. He just couldn’t stay there. Every single person wanted more and more from him (the pride and joy of the Getos and the village, attending a prestigious private school in Tokyo) and the negativity rolling off from them like a stench made him feel sick. He didn’t know what was causing it and he didn’t want to find out. “I just went back to campus early to enjoy the scenery without you up my ass.”

(How did Satoru know he was on campus over break? Did he ask someone about him?)

“Oh my gosh Suguru~” Satoru drawled in a faux-high-pitched voice, “You want me up your ass?”

“W-What?! N-No!” Suguru spluttered, resisting the knee-jerk reaction of turning around and clobbering the other teen (or saying yes). Suguru hunched over himself, the hand on his chin splaying over the lower-half of his face and hopefully covering up his flushed cheeks. He pressed his forehead against the blessedly cool glass as if it would take the heat away from his face. “If you’re that backed up, you should’ve hit up one of your sycophants before we left. Or I can let you have the room to yourself for an hour or two so you get everything out.”

For a moment, the car was blessedly quiet.

“I suppose it was too much to expect the two of you to at least pretend to be mature instead of being uncivilized, rowdy children.” Mei Mei’s voice startled him. He forgot she was there.

“He started it…” Suguru grumbled, and then froze. Slender fingers lightly brushed against his scalp, right below the bun on his head, before his hair fell in dark waves around him.

“Satoru!” Suguru snapped, head whipping around to stare down his grinning, mischievous friend(?). “Give it back!”

His hair tie was wrapped around Satoru’s fingers, the dark material a stark contrast against pale skin.

“Satoru, give it back~” Satoru mocked, his voice obnoxiously high. Satoru’s shades slid down his nose and eyes that contained the sky met his (a boring, basic, purple). He felt trapped.

Suguru made a pass for his hair tie only to slide off of Infinity. He bit back a gasp of incredulity.

“Pull over for a moment, here.” Mei Mei’s voice sounded far as he and Satoru resumed their staring contest. The car slid to a stop and Mei Mei switched from the backseat into the front seat. It was only when the car started moving again that Suguru blinked and leaned away from Satoru (when did they get so close?).

“Whatever,” Suguru scowled. He had more hair ties on his wrist—why was he engaging in Satoru’s nonsense? He slid up his sleeve to reach for one and—

“Wait wait wait wait,” Satoru said, holding onto his arm, “I’ll put your hair back up for you.”

“.....fine,” Suguru sighed, and turned towards the window again. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore—fuck. Was his hair greasy? When was the last time he washed his hair? Did he shower last night? He showered, right?

Suguru bit his lip. It didn’t matter—Satoru already had his hands in his hair this morning.

“Turn around.” The gentle command was accompanied by a hand on his chin, turning his head and rendering the command moot. His chest tightened as crystalline eyes stared at him without staring at him. The hand on his chin ghosted up the side of his face and tugged on his hair until one strand fell down the side of his face.

“There,” Satoru said, sounding infinitely pleased with himself.

Suguru reached for his bun, wiggling it slightly to check the security. It was a braided bun. Satoru had braided his hair and he was too busy panicking to realize.

“Why are you checking it? You don’t trust me?” Satoru pouted.

“No,” Suguru said sarcastically, but the word tasted too bitter to be sarcastic even though it wasn’t true. He turned back to the window so he wouldn’t have to see Satoru’s reaction.

The remainder of the drive to the train station was quiet.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

There was a book in Suguru’s hands. He didn’t know what it was about, but as long as he flipped the pages every so often, he could ignore the wrongness of the situation. He was in the window seat and Satoru was sprawled out in the seat next to him. Mei Mei sat across from them.

The world whizzed by him the wrong way because they always flipped the seats around to sit the wrong way and he never had the window seat. He always sat down in the window seat first and Satoru would always complain until they switched. Satoru hadn’t said a word to him from the moment they sat down and that had to have been an hour ago (at least he wasn’t sitting next to her).

Suguru was itching to do something. Say something. But that’d be so pathetic and stupid after all this time—

(he was going fucking crazy)

He just needed—

Needed…

Needed what?

What was the point of this?

Suguru pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, perching his heels at the edge of his seat. His book was abandoned between the wall and his thigh as he leaned his head against the window. He was too big to be doing this and it was rude but he, he just needed…the coolness of the glass and maybe the rocking of the train would shake some sense into his skull.

“Are you alright, Geto?”

He turned his head ever-so-slightly to look at Mei Mei. “Of course,” he said, uncaring of how fake he sounded. He turned his attention back to the monotonous scenery racing by, tuning her out whether she responded or not.

Right! Satoru wasn’t the problem but his goal (what a fat fucking lie). Difficult tasks needed to be broken down into digestible, achievable bits. Even the impossible could be chipped away. To rid the world of the filth inhabiting it, he needed to get stronger. To get stronger, he needed to become more than the auxiliary to The Strongest—an equal—and distance would help him see his goal (would it?) and what he needed to attain it. So of course he couldn’t have his goal ruined by some fucking golddigging whore. If he caught up to Satoru that way, it wouldn’t feel as gratifying. And really, if he thought about it, he was also doing Satoru a favor. Yes. That’s what he was going to do. Get rid of the curse and get rid of Mei Mei in the process.

He shut his eyes and began the tedious process of running inventory on his curses. There was a point in time when he knew every single curse he had at any given moment, but he had too many now (and for so long) that it’d fry his brain if he tried to keep that information on deck. Instead, he remembered his favorites (like his Rainbow Dragon before it got bisected) and went through his options on the way to missions. After all, he couldn’t summon what he didn’t know he had, and it’d be even more embarrassing to summon something unsuited for the situation.

A mistake like that might even cost him his life…which might be the better outcome, now that he remembered that time he summoned a random fish spirit instead of his manta. He couldn’t remember how they ended up there, but he, Satoru, and Shoko were freefalling in the middle of the sky. When they blew past a thick, ugly, wriggling fish instead of his elegant pink manta, the other two burst into hysterical laughter. The only reason they didn’t turn into red pancakes was because Satoru pulled himself together long enough to slow them down with Blue. He had given up on summoning another curse and accepted death.

It had taken them forever to let it go, but really, it was for the best that he didn’t summon it. The manta was a decision made while he was panicking: it would’ve been too small to catch all three of them properly.

(Unbeknownst to Suguru, a smile played on his lips)

💭

Suguru was pissed. He had been seconds away from booking it out of this hellhole when the village chief ushered him to the side, right before he stepped on the train platform, his face half-panicked, half-guilty.

“Geto-san, could I trouble you once more?” He asked as if he wasn’t already troubling him.

Suguru turned towards him. The village chief flinched; his eyes flickered around and he rubbed his hands nervously.

“You see… the village has been plagued by two, uh, curses. Instead of having to submit another petition for another exorcist to come out here, could you take care of it while you are here?”

Suguru looked up. Clouds chased each other in the sky like a herd of mischievous bunnies. The sky was painted a muted blue: the sun was going to set soon.

“What… kind of curse is it?” Suguru said. That cloud reminded him of Satoru.

A satisfied look flashed across the chief’s face before it settled back into despondency. “I am afraid I do not know, but it has been plaguing the village with the same nightmares night after night. Men, women, children—it doesn’t matter.”

Suguru frowned. “How long has this been happening?”

“The amount of afflicted people started increasing dramatically around two weeks ago, but Hamasaki-san said he’d been suffering from them for about four weeks,” the chief answered.

Suguru’s frown deepened. That was a long time to let a curse stew and grow stronger. And this type of curse was arguably worse than the one he exorcised—it would be difficult to pinpoint its body and it’d only strike when people were incapacitated. At the rate the curse was gaining strength, he wouldn’t be surprised if the villagers died in their sleep tonight.

“Let’s return to town,” Suguru sighed.

The chief bowed his head and thanked him profusely as he guided him to his car. Suguru ignored him until they were back in the village; the chauffeur dropped them off in front of the town hall.

Suguru held out a hand to stop the chief’s inane rambling. “Where does Hamasaki-san live?”

The chief bowed his head again, nervously rubbing his hands together. “Right this way, Geto-san.”

The longer he and the chief walked through town, the more people peered at them curiously, some even stopping whatever they were doing to trail after them. Suguru gritted his teeth. He hated small towns—they were always full of envious, nosy fucks who had nothing in their head but malicious gossip.

“This is Hamasaki-san’s humble abode,” the chief said, gesturing to a respectable two story home.

Suguru glanced around at the other nearby homes. All of them were similar in size.

‘I bet they're all built with stolen money,’ Suguru thought, turning his attention to the Hamasaki home. Cursed energy rolled off of it in dense, nauseating waves.

‘And yet…’ Suguru shifted to his left, ‘This house is covered in even more cursed energy.’

“Whose house is this?” Suguru asked. Most of the cursed energy seemed to be concentrated on the roof. He shot a small pulse of cursed energy at the roof.

“Ah, that would be my humble abode,” the chief answered.

Suguru didn’t respond. Something—somethings—started forming out of the inky mass on the roof. They looked like giant, scaly birds with long, reptilian tails. It was a pair of itsumade, curled up with their backs facing him. One of them stood up and peered down at him (them, really, but he wasn’t counting the crowd of nosy villagers behind him). He flexed his hand at his side—it couldn’t be that strong yet if a simple pulse of cursed energy disturbed its barrier.

The itsumade unfurled its wings and—

—jumped to the next roof, Hamasaki’s house. It stared at him for a moment before it squawked at the other itsumade. The lazy itsumade got up and flew to its companion. Now they were both staring at him.

Suguru cautiously took a step towards them. They jumped over to the next roof and stared at him again. He took a few steps in their direction and they jumped to the next roof. Suguru scratched the back of his head. This didn’t make sense. If the curses were smart enough to try and get him to follow them, they were more than capable of crafting a proper barrier or at least killing a couple of villagers by now. Not…that he wanted any of the villagers to die or anything…

He shook his head—he was getting sidetracked. No matter their intelligence, they wouldn’t be able to defeat him, even if they led him into a trap.

Mind made up, he began following them, and the villagers started following him. The chief was pestering him asking questions pestering him, but Suguru had already decided that not engaging with anyone was the best way to conserve his energy since he had to be around so many monk—

…people…

The itsumade led him out of the town and into the surrounding forest. Long shadows stretched across the forest floor as the sun dropped out of the sky. More people joined the group and some people left. Suguru wasn’t really keeping track.

“Geto-san,” the village chief asked, “If I may, how far into the forest are we going?”

“No one told you to follow me,” Suguru said.

“R-Right, y-yes, of course,”

Fortunately for the chief, the itsumade stopped in a small clearing, the empty space between the trees lit up by the dying sunlight. The itsumade stood across from him, staring at him. He wasn’t sure before, but now that they were stationary, they looked smaller than the itsumade he’d encountered before, not to mention they had the face of a child rather than an adult. The proactive one had the face of a girl and the other, a boy.

The girl(?) let out a screech and clawed impatiently at the ground.

“Itsumademo! Itsumademo!” The curse’s cries were piercing. The crowd behind him shuddered fearfully. They were starting to get noisy. Suguru could feel a headache starting to form.

“Itsumademo! Itsumademo! Itsumademo!”

‘“Until when,”’ Suguru thought, ‘They cry “until when,” asking when their suffering will finally be noticed.’

“Quiet,” he snapped, and both the curse and the crowd shut up. He turned to the crowd. “Does anyone have a shovel or anything to dig with?”

A few people stepped forward with shovels, hoes, and gardening forks.

“W-What’s going on?” The chief asked. Suguru ignored him.

“Dig here,” Suguru ordered, pointing at the clearing. The people looked at each other uncomfortably and then at the chief. They probably weren’t used to getting ordered around by someone decades younger than them. He didn’t care, though. “I said dig!”

His voice echoed through the woods and they startled into action, digging as if their life depended on it. If he thought about it, they sort of did (if they pissed him off any further, their deaths would be written off as a necessary casualty).

The chief’s hands fluttered nervously. “G-Geto-san, I—”

Suguru turned fully towards him and stared him down. The chief babbled incomprehensibly until he got the memo and shut up. Suguru opened his mouth and then closed it. He forgot the man’s name. Oh well. He didn’t care that much, anyway.

“Jiji, what were the nightmares about?” Suguru asked.

The chief’s eyes popped open at the address. Suguru almost laughed.

“It’s always about these two creatures circling around the town. They have the scaly body of a beast and legs like a chicken with fierce talons. They have massive wings and a long tail with a pointed end. Their faces—n-no one can remember their faces upon waking,” the chief said.

“Is that all?”

“W-Well, they’re always letting out a dreadful cry, ‘itsumademo’, a-and some people have reported that they fly down and tear at them with their beaks and claws,”

Suguru turned to the clearing. The people were digging quite efficiently—they were nearly knee deep. They shouldn’t have to dig much further, if his assumption was correct. “And how long ago did you say these nightmares have been happening?”

“For about four weeks,”

“H-Hey! There’s something buried down here!” One of the townsfolk cried out.

Suguru’s eyes slid back to the chief. His frantic hands had stilled, his face pale. Suguru smiled.

“Get out of the ditch,” he ordered, “Now.”

As they clambered out of the way, more people crowded around the hole to peer inside. Suguru snatched a shovel from one of the townsfolk and stood over the hole; the edges of a blue tarp appeared under the dirt. A horrible stench wafted up from it, and if Suguru had any weaker of a stomach, he’d probably be puking with the other half of the crowd that had moved away to hurl their guts out.

He worked in peaceful silence, excavating the rest of the tarp. He had a curse that could finish the job in an instant, but the last thing he needed was having those hilly-billy, superstitious folk say he planted anything. It wouldn’t take long for him to finish, anyway. The villagers had done most of the work for him.

Five minutes later, or maybe more, Suguru climbed out of the hole, the tarp fully uncovered. The hole was a little under a metre and a half deep and about a metre in diameter—he was almost impressed by its size. The tarp was wrapped around something and fortunately not held close by anything. Suguru carefully reached in with the shovel and nudged the tarp until it opened.

“O-Oh my God…” someone gagged.

The last slivers of the sun illuminated the contents of the tarp—two small, rotting bodies curled up around each other. They were naked.

“Oh my God, those are the kids Motome-san’s looking after. Th-The two orphans—it’s been weeks—my God I thought they ran away,” someone cried out.

“We have to call the police. Didn’t one of Ueyonabaru-san’s boys follow along? Have him run back to town and call the police!” Someone else shouted.

People were sobbing and gagging and hurling and both itsumade were screeching and it was so. Fucking. Loud.

Suguru threw the shovel to the ground. It clattered noisily against dug-up stones, and there was quiet again.

“Do you know how curses are formed, jiji?” He asked.

The chief, who had been strangely quiet, shook his head.

“Curses are formed for a lot of reasons,” Suguru continued, “A lot of them form for stupid reasons, and because they’re so stupid, they take a while to form. But sometimes curses can form really fast if their resentment—their anger—is strong enough.”

“A-Are you saying that th-the these two children have been murdered and their spirits are haunting the village?” The chief asked.

“Ding ding ding! That’s a point for you,” Suguru said, and maybe more of Satoru’s personality had rubbed off on him than he thought. “And did you know that most curses are fucking dumb? They’re just absolute utter idiots! Yet these two curses were smart enough to lead me all the way here because someone waited so long to call for assistance that they had the opportunity to feed off of an entire village for fucking weeks. If they’d wanted to kill you all, you all would’ve been dead!”

The chief’s face went from pale to red to pale to red again. “Y-Y-You, y-you can’t—”

“And what’s more!” Suguru interrupted, turning to the chief with fire in his eyes, “Is that they were waiting on someone’s roof. The roof of their murderer!”

The chief took a step back. “H-Hamasaki-san—”

“No, you dumb fuck. Yours!”

The chief bolted. Suguru took great pleasure in snatching him back by the collar before he took two steps.

“HURGKHLGHL—” The chief scratched at his neck. Suguru hoisted him higher up in the air until his feet were dangling off the ground, swinging back and forth by the collar that was slowly choking him.

“You can run if you want and I won’t chase you. It’s not my job,” Suguru said, “But I won’t stop those curses from chasing you before I capture them,” And with that, he threw the man away from the confused crowd.

The man barely scrambled onto his feet when the first itsumade landed in front of him, wings spread wide. The man screamed and fell on his butt as it screeched at him. He scrabbled backwards into the other itsumade. He screamed again, his pitch going higher and higher and Suguru beamed as the crowd backed away from him, eyes wide in horror.

“S-Stay back, y-you evil beasts!” He screeched, throwing something from his pocket at them. It was salt. “H-Help me! S-Someone help me! What are you all standing there for?!”

“Is what that boy said the truth?” “These are the bodies of the orphans…” “It is strange how he never reported the nightmares until now,” “Are you telling me we had such a demon as our village chief?”

Suguru laughed. He didn’t care that the villagers were looking at him as if he were crazy—if anything, it made him laugh harder. The only thing he did regret was that it made the chief remember he was there.

“Y-You—G-Geto-san, help me! Y-You have to help me! You can’t let curses kill people!”

The man was, unfortunately, correct. Or at least, there were far too many witnesses to worry about.

“What were their names? The children?” Suguru asked the nearest person.

The villager flinched, the fear in their eyes clear. “U-Uh, Atsuko and Atsuo,”

“Thanks.”

Well, he probably should get a move on before they actually eat him—they already started pecking strips of skin off of his arms and legs.

“Atsuko-chan, Atsuo-kun,” Suguru said softly, slowly walking over to the itsumade. Surprisingly, they stopped attacking the man, both looking back at him. Suguru swallowed back the lump in his throat (they remembered their names). “You guys don’t actually want to kill that jiji, do you? Or you would’ve done it a long time ago. You want him to go to jail and be punished like the bad guy he is.”

The boy(?), Atsuo(?), folded its wings and tilted its head contemplatively. The other itsumade, Atsuko(?), let out a defiant screech, wings flapping angrily.

“It’s okay, I’m not saying you have to forgive him. You never have to forgive trash like him, but sometimes death is too easy of a punishment for certain people,” Suguru said, “If he goes to prison, and when they learn about what he did to end up there, I promise he’ll wish he was dead a million times over.”

At this, Atsuko slowly pulled its wings in.

“I promise,” Suguru repeated, before adding much lower, “And if he doesn’t want to die when he gets there, I’ll help you guys get your revenge and make him wish he was, anyway.”

While the people behind him didn’t hear his last words, the chief definitely did. He immediately started hollering and thrashing about. Suguru rolled his eyes and stepped in the middle of the itsumade. He grabbed the man by the back of his neck and threw him back over to the crowd, who split apart from him again.

“Make sure he doesn’t get away so I don’t have a reason to come back,” Suguru threatened, staring each and everyone of them down. “And whoever’s in charge after him, make sure they pay me extra for this.”

And with that, Suguru went deeper into the woods. He knew he wasn’t walking in the direction of the train station, but his goal was to get far away enough from the people so he could summon a curse and fly over there. Speaking of curses…

Suguru turned around. The two itsumade were following behind him like giant, goofy eagles. Satoru liked eagles, specifically the golden eagles (would he like these two?).

“Listen, I don’t normally do this, but you two are rather smart curses,” Suguru said, “Technically, you two don’t exist as curses I need to exorcise, so as long as you guys don’t get caught, you can fly away here and I’ll turn a blind eye.”

Neither of them moved.

“Or…I can absorb you guys and you’ll stay with me,” Suguru sighed. He didn’t really want them to roam free, but he also didn’t feel like eating another curse—two other curses, today.

Atsuo let out a happy screech and flapped its wings. It bounded over to him and nuzzled its head against his shoulder. It was sort of cute but mostly unnerving.

“Are you sure? I can’t promise it won’t hurt,” Suguru murmured, awkwardly scratching its feathery mane (it was soft). It wasn’t like the other curses he captured could tell him or he really cared to know.

Atsuo nuzzled its head against his hand and he figured that was the best sign of consent he’d get. It made a strange chirping sound as it swirled around and around and around until it formed a smooth orb in the palm of his hand. It was deceptively bright and blue as always.

His body convulsed before he even brought it to his mouth.

‘Bottoms up,’

He tilted his head back and clamped a hand over his mouth, swallowing it down. It rolled down his throat and his body convulsed again as the taste of rot and—clouds? No, not clouds, that didn’t make any sense. Airy? No, it tasted like…it tasted like…nothing?

“It tasted like nothing,” Suguru mumbled, absently touching a hand to his lips.

A nervous screech brought his attention to focus. Atsuko flapped its wings anxiously as it paced around him.

“Easy there,” Suguru cooed. In a swirl of his cursed energy, Atsuo reappeared beside him. Atsuko hobbled over and began nuzzling the other itsumade. “Yeah, yeah, Atsuo-chan’s in one piece, now can we get this over with? If I miss the next train, the two of you will be flying me back.”

Atsuko squawked at him and bumped its head into his waiting hand. The curse swirled into an orb as bright and blue as the first. Suguru swallowed it down. This one…also tasted like nothing?

He summoned Atsuko, and while the itsumade danced around each other, he scratched at his throat. Had this ever happened to him before (it must’ve, right)? All the curses he’d absorbed before tasted disgusting—some hadn’t tasted as bad as others but they all were shit at the end of the day. Except…maybe the first handful of curses he’d absorbed? Those couldn’t have tasted bad, because at the young age he was at, he would’ve stopped immediately. What were the curses he had, back then? What was he like, back then?

He couldn’t remember.

💭

Chapter Text

Suguru hated this mission already and they hadn’t even seen a shadow of the curse, though maybe that was part of the problem. The only good thing that had happened all day was the unexpected nap he took on the train; his sleep was dreamless and peaceful. Once they finally arrived in Kagoshima (was there seriously no Grade 1 sorcerer closer?), Suguru summoned his itsumade and they’d been following Mei Mei’s crows since. She was leading on one itsumade while he and Satoru were on another. He hadn’t planned on summoning them at first, but they were at the front of his mind when they got off the train (maybe he did dream after all).

The sun was starting to set and, unfortunately, they were heading into the direction of the sunset. The only thing going for him at the moment was that they at least left their bags in a locker at the station.

And that Satoru wasn’t riding with Mei Mei.

“If only this sun would set a little faster,” Suguru grumbled under his breath.

“What’d the sunset do to you? It’s pretty.”

Suguru decidedly did not flinch. “I can’t see.”

Hands appeared from the sides of his vision and when they left, a pair of shades were on his face. Everything was pitch black except for the pale yellow ball in the center of his vision.

“I still can’t see.” Suguru couldn’t help the fond giggles that spilled from his mouth. He was acutely aware of Satoru behind him—he could almost even delude himself into feeling the warmth emanating from him even though they weren’t exactly touching.

“Bleh, see if I try to help you again,” Satoru huffed as he took his glasses back.

Suguru smiled and, not for the first time, wondered how Satoru saw out of those things.

“Soooooooooo how recent are these things?”

Suguru blinked in surprise. Despite the little bit with the glasses, he hadn’t expected Satoru to try and talk to him since he iced him the entire train ride (which was what he wanted).

“A...few weeks ago—I mean, I picked them up a few weeks ago,” Suguru said, stumbling over his words.

“Oh. They’re kinda cool. I like their goofy little walk. It reminds me of eagles.”

“They have names,” Suguru blurted out.

“What?! You named them?” Suddenly Satoru was in his space, leaning against him, his chin resting on his shoulder.

“Back…up!” Suguru chided, pressing a palm to his face to push him back, “Stop messing around before we fall.”

Satoru licked his hand (because of course he did). Suguru yanked it back as if he was burned.

“Gross,” he grumbled, wiping the dampness away on his pants.

“Nah, you should be thanking me for blessing you with a part of the great Gojo Satoru~! Now what were you saying about names?” Satoru asked. He was still pressed up against him. His hands were on Suguru’s hips.

“I-I, I didn’t name them,” Suguru mumbled.

“Hmm, but you said they have names? Oh! Did you mean that you wanted me to name them?”

“No!” Suguru cut him off quickly. He threaded his hands through Atsuko’s mane. “No, they had names to begin with. They remember who they were before they became curses, to some extent.”

“What?! Oof—”

Suguru removed his elbow from Satoru’s gut. “Could you not yell like that in my ear?” He hissed.

“S-Sorry…owie~ you hit me so hard, Suguru~” Satoru whined, no doubt clutching his stomach dramatically, given the lack of hands on him.

“I’ll hit you again if you keep that up,” Suguru threatened, “Anyway, that one Mei Mei’s on is Atsuo, and this one is Atsuko.”

“Huh. D’ya know what happened to them?”

“They were orphans raped and murdered by the village chief who called for assistance for a different curse. Last I heard about that sick fuck is that he’s serving out a life sentence, no parole.” He felt Satoru still behind him.

“Oh…”

“He buried them out in the woods and they were there for five fucking weeks. They led me right to their bodies, you know? If any other sorcerer was there, they would’ve exorcised them and been done with it and that fucker never would’ve been caught.”

“Sounds about par for the course for those small towns out in the middle of nowhere.”

Suguru twitched. He thought the same thing, yes, but when it came from someone like Satoru (especially Satoru), it grated on his nerves, reminded him that he came from a place like that.

“What’s up with the sudden mood for small talk?” Suguru snapped. (it was unfair of him—he knew that, but it wasn’t going to stop him from saying it anyway)

“Huh? What are you being so bitchy for?” The snarky comment was accompanied by a jab in his side.

Suguru scowled and threw his leg over Atsuko’s back, precariously side-saddling the curse. He slid off the itsumade and onto the manta he just summoned.

“Running away again. Classic,” Satoru snipped.

Suguru didn’t bother to respond but he also didn’t fly away from him like he planned. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He hadn’t meant to start arguing—they had been talking like normal and Satoru’s comment wasn’t even about him yet he still let it get under his skin.

They couldn’t find this curse soon enough.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

“The curse is somewhere in this area,” Mei Mei said, tracing a small circle on a map with her finger. “My crows set up a barrier around the perimeter—it’s a weak barrier, but it’ll go unnoticed and stop the curse from teleporting away. I expect the barrier to break after the curse’s first escape attempt so you boys better exorcise it before it tries to escape again. I don’t think I’ll be fast enough to erect a stronger barrier before it runs.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Satoru said, rolling his eyes.

Suguru stood up and stepped out of the bush they were crouching behind. “You’re not getting paid by the word so don’t feel the need to keep repeating yourself,” Suguru smiled. Satoru snickered and Mei Mei simply smiled back at him.

He climbed back onto his manta ray. “Come on, Satoru. I’ll drop you off a little closer to the barrier.”

“Can’t I ride on that itsumade again? You’re leaving one with Mei Mei,” Satoru complained, climbing on behind him anyway.

“I’m leaving it with her just in case she needs to relocate quickly,” Suguru said, “Don’t fall off.”

That was the only warning he gave before the manta took off. It effortlessly threaded through the trees and, in no time, they were out of the copse and sailing over open farmland. The moon was a waning crescent, barely lighting up the field and the thin clouds populating the night sky didn’t do much to help with the visibility.

“Get off,” Suguru said as the manta slowed to a stop. They were behind a silo.

“You know, I could always stay with you and I’ll be your binoculars.” Satoru wrapped his arms around him, his hands nigh groping his chest.

Suguru scowled and immediately shoved him off. “If you’re with me, who’s supposed to exorcise the curse? Stay focused so we don’t end up chasing this curse halfway across Japan, you idiot.” His face was warm.

“Boo~” Satoru popped up in front of him, no doubt using Blue to get there. (he hated his unseriousness, sometimes)

Suguru summoned Atsuko and floated up into the sky before Satoru could mock thank him say anything. It wasn’t like he was leaving the itsumade behind out of the goodness of his heart—while he couldn’t communicate with them, he was aware of where his curses were. He could keep track of Satoru and Mei Mei this way.

‘It’s not like Mei Mei isn’t doing the same thing,’ Suguru thought, glaring at the crow perched on the manta’s head.

He knew it wasn’t the same—the crow was to help them stay in contact with each other. Cellphone connection was never reliable out in the boondocks, so well-worded yes-or-no questions were the only way they could stay connected. The code (if you could even call it that) was simple: left wing for no, right wing for yes. Satoru wanted it switched. He was vetoed.

Suguru summoned his worm curse and pulled out his binoculars. He pointlessly searched the dark for a shock of white hair before he gave up and tracked Atsuko (it was weird not being able to track him by his cursed energy). Satoru had moved further into the property. He was pressed up against the side of a barn, staring out into a large plot of sweet potatoes. Satoru’s head swiveled and stared right at him. Suguru flinched; the binoculars slipped from his hands and he fumbled to catch them before they plummeted the who-knew-how-far metres to the ground.

“I forgot he does that,” Suguru mumbled to himself, feeling embarrassed for no particular reason. Fortunately, the crow hadn’t been looking at him (though it was now).

“Mei Mei, is Satoru ready?” After a moment, the crow raised its right wing. “Is the curse in the field?” Right wing again. “Okay. If he asks, my curses are moving in.”

Suguru raised the binoculars. To the east, a massive, silvery swarm of fish-like curses swam through the sky towards the barn. Only ten of the curses were his (if he had to consume all of those low level curses, he would’ve killed himself already). The only good thing low level curses were good for were establishing perimeters and corralling their kind. Their innate hive mind mentality made it easy for his curses, charged with more cursed energy than normal ones, to act as leaders and guide them wherever he wanted.

He turned back to Satoru. He was watching the field again, but the moment Suguru’s eyes landed on him, he looked up. His face was scrunched up into a pout (Suguru assumed it was, at least—he couldn’t really see his face that clearly). Satoru glanced to the side; the mob of curses passed by the other side of the barn and into the field.

As much as it pained him, Suguru’s gaze followed the mob of curses as they went into the field. They were loud, annoying, and a potential threat if left unchecked, but for the special grade curse, they would be nothing more than an eyesore encroaching on its territory. They were the perfect bait to lure it out.

“Bingo,” Suguru mumbled. A wisp of greyness unfurled itself from around an irrigation sprinkler. The curse looked more like a nure-onna than an ittan-momen. From the waist down, it looked like a pale snake, though it might’ve still been cloth. Its upper body was a hulking mass of muscle with dark, talon-like hands and a face that was mostly teeth and a row of protrusions. It still moved like an ittan-momen, its tail undulating behind it as it slithered through the sky. Suguru dismissed his curses from the swarm before the special grade got any closer—he wanted to avoid needing to replenish his stock if he could help it.

The special grade twirled around, slinging its tail like a whip. About half of the fish curses were ripped to shreds and the other half soon followed. A bright blue light lit up the field. Suguru lowered the binoculars, blinking away spots. In the few seconds his eyes took to readjust, a red light was flying towards him. He resummoned his worm curse, swapping out the binoculars for Playful Cloud as the manta streaked across the sky towards the light. As the last glimmers of Red faded, Suguru could see the damage Satoru had wreaked upon the curse. Most of its tail was gone and it was missing its arm and a chunk of its side. It was spasming in the air.

And then it disappeared.

‘Fucking Mei Mei—’

And reappeared.

Suguru cracked Playful Cloud into its neck. It made a garbling sound as its neck tore until a sliver of flesh kept its head connected to its body. The curse made a pitiful swipe at his head. He dismissed his manta to dodge it and pulled the curse into an orb as he fell. It let out a loud, horrid screech that stayed in his ears even as he swallowed down the orb.

“Fuck,” he gagged. One hand covered his mouth and the other rubbed his chest to soothe the burn. The last thing he needed to do was projectile vomit while falling—huh?

Something was stuck on his chest.

He pulled it off. It was a hard candy, and if the color was anything to go by, it was that overly-artificial cherry flavor Satoru liked.

(throw it away throw it away throw it away)

He popped it into his mouth. He suffered for a moment through cherry-flavored shit before the cherry taste dominated his mouth (would Satoru taste like cherries if they kissed?).

(shut up, don’t even think about it)

He summoned his manta and—

He summoned his manta and—

He summoned—

eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat

“FUCK!” Suguru shouted, rolling to the side. Despite the wind rushing around him, all he could hear was the furious pounding of his heart. He nearly fell into one of his voids.

“Come on, you stupid thing, appear!” He cursed, desperately trying to summon anything. All he got was another void ripping open below him and eating a few strands of his bang.

Fuck. Was this how he died? Was he really going to end up as nothing more than a fucking meat pancake? Plummeting to the ground because his own fucking technique was trying to eat him…was this karma?

(would he turn into a vengeful spirit? there were so many grievances tucked away in his heart that it oozed out of his pores)

He crunched the candy into pieces and squeezed his eyes shut. What a shitty death—

“Suguru!”

A warm weight barreled into him and he hadn’t even realized how cold he’d gotten.

“What the fuck?!” Satoru yelled, pulling Suguru into a princess-carry. His glasses had slid down his nose and his eyes were wide and glittering with fear. (fear? that couldn’t be right—what was left in the world for Gojo Satoru to fear?) “What is wrong with you?! Are you trying to die?! Why weren’t you summoning anything to stop your fall?! Do you realize how close to the ground we are?!”

“Can you stop shouting?” Suguru scowled. He glanced down. They were barely higher than the silo. He trembled.

“Stop shouting? Stop shouting?!” In true Satoru fashion, his voice only got louder.

“Yes. It’s late at night and we’re trespassing. Are you trying to make a scene?” Suguru hissed. Satoru stared at him in disbelief and Suguru refused to look at him any longer.

They slowly descended to the ground in silence. The moment Satoru’s feet touched the ground, Suguru scrambled out of his arms. They were in the middle of the sweet potato patch.

“Geto, are you alright?” Mei Mei was running over to them, a crow perched on her shoulder.

Fuck. How pathetic did he look if even Mei Mei looked worried?

“You’re lucky Mei Mei’s crow got my attention in time,” Satoru scowled, crossing his arms.

“I assumed something had happened—the curse you left with me disappeared,” she said.

Suguru looked away. “My…my technique wasn’t working.”

“No sh—” Satoru’s words were interrupted by a light coming from a house at the edge of the plot. An old door creaked open and the sound of barking filled the night.

“Shit,” Satoru said, and he grabbed Suguru and Mei Mei and in the next moment wind rushed through his ears and they were back at the copse.

“I hate travelling like that,” Suguru grumbled, holding his head. It gave him the worst vertigo ever.

“Suck it up. If your technique isn’t working properly then this is the way we’re going to travel until we get back to the road,” Satoru snapped.

“And if there aren’t any buses running, we might have to rely on you until we get to town, Gojo,” Mei Mei added with a smile.

Suguru glared at them. “No need. My technique is fine.”

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

His technique was not fine. When he tried to summon any of his curses, all he could feel thrumming under his skin was that ravenous, unnerving desire to consume (eat eat eat eat eat), so he gave up before he exposed his ability. The only positive thing that came out of that overall shitty experience was that they managed to catch the last bus into town. If he had to suffer through Satoru dragging them around with Blue any longer, he would’ve thrown up (and it would’ve ruined his streak—he’d actually been doing well lately at keeping things down).

‘At least we’re finally at the ryokan,’ Suguru thought, crossing his arms. They were in the ryokan’s lobby; he and Satoru were standing in the general vicinity of each other while Mei Mei was at the front desk sorting out their lodging.

“I got us two rooms,” Mei Mei said as she walked over, “They’re right next to each other, so try to keep the fighting down for tonight, okay boys?”

“Just give us the key,” Satoru said, holding out his hand.

Mei Mei smiled and—

Ring, ring!

She took out her phone. She held up a hand and walked to the other side of the room.

“Wéi, nín hǎo, wǒ shì Mei Mei.” The phone call didn’t last long—about a minute or two later, she returned. “Lucky for you two, some unfortunate soul in Beijing needs my help and is willing to pay a hefty bonus for me to leave tonight. Now we don’t have to worry about anyone dying tonight.”

Suguru scowled. “You’re being dramatic,” he said, catching the key she threw at him.

Mei Mei laughed. “Maybe, maybe not. The room number’s on the tag. Make it back in one piece.”

Suguru watched her leave, barely concealing the distaste on his face. When he turned around, Satoru was already gone. He tried to ignore the tightness in his heart as he followed after him.

The onsen was a tense affair. It was torturous being there at the same time as Satoru. He wanted to look touch feel so badly but Satoru wasn’t saying anything and that was what he wanted (wasn’t it?) but it felt so wrong. He couldn’t relax. He didn’t feel right in his skin (eat eat eat eat). It didn’t help that there was a small group of middle-aged men in the onsen as well, jabbering away. Judging by their volume and the contents of their conversation, he assumed they were drunk.

(fucking monkeys)

He slunk lower in the water, his hair spreading out around him. Normally, Satoru would start messing with his hair and Suguru would have to sit up and splash water on him to get him to stop.

Suguru stole a quick glance to his right. Satoru was sitting next to him, leaning back against the onsen walls with his arms propped up (he looked good like that). He was staring into nothingness, a stormy look on his face. Suguru’s heart felt like it was in his throat.

Satoru got to his feet and walked out. Suguru stared at his back, unabashedly watching rivulets of water roll down defined muscle until they reached his towel. Suguru gulped. (he wanted to lick the water off of him, press his fingers into his back dimples, have those eyes on him again)

Suguru only got out of his stupor when Satoru left the room. No, that wasn’t it. He probably would’ve been staring at the afterimage of Satoru for a lot longer if it wasn’t for the sudden, boisterous laugh from the group of men.

“So, I told her…that if she reaaally cared about her mother, she would do anything to get that time off,” one of the men said, his words slurred.

(disgusting)

“And? Did she?” Another asked.

“Whaddya think? I can’t wait for another reason to have that tight ass,” the first man laughed.

(fucking filth)

“What do you need a reason for?” A different man said and they all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world and Suguru—

(eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat)

The door to the onsen opened. Satoru stood in the entrance.

“Suguru, get out. We’re catching the earliest train,” and with that, he turned around and left.

Suguru stood up

eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat

and

eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat

walked

no no no no eat eat eat eat eat eat eat

out

no no no eat eat eat no EAT EAT

of

EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT

the

EAT

room.

Suguru stumbled down the hallway. It was empty. His footsteps sounded loud. His head was heavy. He felt like he was going to throw up. Did they eat (YES EAT EAT EAT EAT)? They had, hadn’t they? Mei Mei had thrown around some cash and batted her eyes at the innkeeper and he brought out a meal for them (EAT EAT EAT EAT). He was going to throw up. Where was his room? Why was it so far? Was this his room (NO NO NO EAT EAT)? Please please please please please let this be his room (NO EAT EAT EAT).

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He shouted. His hands dug into his hair until it felt like he was on the verge of pulling it out (EAT EAt eat eat eat eat).

(calm down. calm down. calm down. breathe—in and out, in and out)

He opened the door and fell against it to close it. He slid to the ground. He had to lock the door (get up and lock it). He was going to throw up (just breathe). Lock the door. Lock it (locked, finally). There was something in his throat (breathe). It must be that curse. It had to be that curse (breathe). It had been a while since he absorbed a special grade so that’s why his body was breaking down on him (breathe). His hands were shaking. Where was he? He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe (not again not again he was doing so well—)

‘Don’t touch your throat,’

If he touched his throat it would be real and it wasn’t real. His mind was playing tricks on him. Don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch. What was safe to touch? Clothes. He was only wearing a towel. Where was his bag? He needed to get up slowly…slowly…and change.

He pulled on his clothes, one piece at a time. Great. Good job. He was fine. Now all he had to do was go to sleep before—

Suguru gagged and he instinctively covered his mouth.

‘Fuck.’

He started coughing. No no no no stop coughing it was going to irritate his throat and then—

He covered his nose with his other hand. His skin felt tight. He felt lightheaded. That wasn’t right. He could hold his breath far longer than a few seconds. Unless it had been longer than a few seconds? Would he pass out? He’d love it if he passed out. He wouldn’t have to think about anything. He’d be fine then.

He was fine now.

He was fine now.

Suguru slowly lowered his hands. His body shuddered. A cold sweat covered his body. He was going to feel sticky when it dried but he didn’t plan on being awake when that happened. He crawled over to the futon and rolled into it, lying supine.

‘This is the one time I’m happy it’s a futon instead of a bed,’ he thought.

Suguru closed his eyes.

 ∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

And opened his eyes. The scant moonlight that had snuck into the room had moved across the floor.

Suguru closed his eyes.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

And opened his eyes. The moonlight hadn’t moved.

Suguru closed his eyes.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

And opened his eyes. The moonlight hadn’t moved.

Suguru closed his eyes.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

And opened his eyes. The moonlight hadn’t moved.

Suguru closed his eyes.

💭

And opened his eyes. The moonlight hadn’t moved There was something in the room.

Suguru closed his eyes.

∙⋆ ⋆∙

And opened his eyes. There was something in the room.

Suguru closed his eyes It was in the corner. He closed his eyes.

∙⋆ ⋆∙

And opened his eyes There was something on his chest.

The thing had moved. It grabbed his arms. Its hands(?) were cold. Long. Spindly. His chest was heavy. Its fingers dug into his skin. Into his arm. His bicep. It broke his skin. He could feel his blood rushing around it in his arm, pooling out of the wound, clotting the moment it hit the air. It leaned closer to him. It was right over his face. He couldn’t feel its breath but he knew. It was there. In front of him.

don’t open your eyes don’t open your eyes don’t open your eyes

It grabbed his throat.

The hands in his arms tightened around his muscles veins bones. Its hands tightened around his throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

it’s not real ignore it go back to sleep it’s not real ignore it go back to sleep

Two thin sticks (its fingers?) dug into his jugular. Two more dug into his neck, right underneath his Adam’s apple. He convulsed.

Suguru rolled out of bed. He slumped against the wall, holding a hand to his throat. Was his hand wet why was his hand wet—

A low groan came from the bed. Suguru stumbled towards the door. His legs felt as shaky as a newborn foal. He grabbed the door handle. It was locked. Fuck. Why did he lock it? Where was the key? His pocket? Shit shit shit stop shaking put the fucking key in the door.

A hand closed around his neck. Suguru burst through the door. He fell to the floor. The thing was in the doorway.

don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look—

He crawled over to the next door and pulled himself to his feet.

“Satoru. Satoru,” he gasped, knocking at the door. His voice sounded garbled as if he was dry drowning.

The thing was right behind him. He knew it knew that he knew. It was reaching for him again it was reaching for him again and if it got him he wouldn’t escape this time—

“Satoru, Satoru please,” he begged. His knocks became loud, frantic. Blood started gushing from his neck. It clogged his throat, soaked his front. His arms started shrivelling, turning grey and withered.

“SATORU PLEASE!” He screamed. His arms fell off at his biceps. Something bit his leg and he crumpled to the floor. Fingers dug into his neck and Suguru—

—gasped. His eyes flew open. He couldn’t move. Where was he? Where was the thing? Was it a dream? (of course it was a dream) Was he still dreaming? (probably, his head felt as muddled as ever).

His body felt cold. His breathing was shallow and stilted. His body felt cold. Except his left side. His left side was warm and—

Suguru turned his head to the side. He blinked repeatedly. Satoru? What was Satoru doing in his room? On his futon? Or what was he doing on Satoru’s futon? Neither of them were under the covers (a dream, a slightly kinder one, but he was still dreaming).

He rolled over onto his side. Satoru was curled up on his side, facing him. Suguru stared at him. Did it count as déjà vu if it was something he experienced only a morning ago? (no, it doesn’t stupid)

he wanted to touch him

His body felt sore, as if he just got out of a solo mission against a pack of Grade 1 curses. His legs tingled painfully as if he had been sitting seiza for hours. His arms and neck felt airy and disconnected, like his brain had forgotten they were a part of him.

His hand was on Satoru’s cheek. He brushed a thumb under his eye; the tip of his finger grazed his eyelash. Satoru’s eyelids trembled. Suguru wondered if he’d wake up (could he wake up, in this dream of his?). If he did, would his technique be active, as it always was? Or would he just get Satoru? (he wanted to see Satoru) Don’t misunderstand him—he loved liked his eyes either way.

Satoru’s eyes glistened like stars when his technique was active. They were the summer sun shining through a myriad of colored glass onto a clear lake: sparkling, glistening, ever-changing. They attracted—no, demanded—all his attention, yet at the same time he couldn’t bear staring at them for too long lest he never escaped from their grasp. Satoru’s eyes, lit up by his technique, were beautiful—a miracle, a supernova on earth.

But his eyes when he let his high, high walls down, the times when the two of them would tuck themselves away in one of their rooms at Jujutsu High, held a special place in his heart. His eyes were deep and calm like a rolling sea finally at rest at night. They were the winter sky above the horizon when the sun dipped away, tinged by the light of the moon but rich and full in its own right with the depth of space behind it. Satoru’s eyes were the hallmark of his grandeur.

Suguru pushed his thumb a little harder against Satoru’s cheekbone; his face squinched up. His eyes fluttered open. Suguru could barely see them in the dark: they looked like an inky sky. Suguru wasn’t sure if he was breathing (himself, not Satoru, though he couldn’t tell if he was breathing either). He rubbed at the corner of Satoru’s eye and it shut in response. His hand slid further back until it was squished between Satoru’s cheek and the pillow. Satoru blinked and his eyes sparkled and light spilled between them. He could see the inside of his wrist and the angry red lines across it (what?), the tips of Satoru’s bangs, and his cheekbones. The rest of Satoru’s face was still lost in the murky ambiguousness of the dark.

he wanted to kiss him

Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist (Satoru’s hands were always colder than the rest of him). Suguru flinched. His wrist stung. Satoru’s lips parted (how did he know if he couldn’t really see? well, he just knew) but Suguru didn’t know what he was going to say because he didn’t let him say anything. He impulsively closed the scant distance between them. His lips were warm and slightly dry, like his chapstick had almost worn off. Satoru was breathing—he heard a small, sharp inhale. The grip around his wrist tightened every so slightly and Satoru started leaning away. Suguru brought up his other hand to hold the other side of his face, threading his fingers through silky strands, and kissed him harder. Satoru let out a sound against his mouth and teeth sunk into his lower lip. The pain hardly registered. Satoru’s hand moved from his wrist to his neck and squeezed.

Suguru gasped and pulled back, eyes wide. The pressure around his neck was gone as if it was never there (he wanted it back). Satoru stared at him impassively. Suguru licked his lip. He tasted blood. Satoru’s hand was still around his neck, a physical constraint.

he wanted more

He rolled on top of Satoru, forcing him onto his back as he straddled his hips. Satoru’s hand fell away from his neck. Suguru leaned in closer and cupped his face again, gently rubbing at the corner of his eyes. Satoru’s Infinity wasn’t pushing him away….it….would be so easy….to dig out his eyes.

Suguru kissed him hard and fast. Satoru made another small sound but kissed him back and parted his lips when Suguru licked against them. Satoru was so willing and compliant and quiet that it felt strange, but his dreams normally started in the middle of things with Satoru boxing him into a corner with his hands down his pants. That, and he usually never got to kiss him, so even though it was slightly ruining his immersion, he’d take what he could get.

Suguru only pulled back when his lungs felt like they were going to collapse, his cheeks warm and heart pounding. He tasted like toothpaste. Satoru was still stationary beneath him, but he could feel his quickened breathing because his forearms were resting on his chest. Suguru swallowed and wiggled back onto the growing hardness underneath him just to see what would happen. Satoru gasped and his hands flew to Suguru’s hips.

‘Oh. He liked that.’

Suguru smiled and pushed himself upright, his hands resting on Satoru’s firm pecs. He had his work cut out for him: he always wore baggy shorts to bed, and while Satoru’s choice in pajamas depended on his mood, he was fortunately only in his boxers. Suguru shifted around until—

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed out heavily, grinding down again. Satoru whimpered. Suguru’s eyes flickered to his face. His eyes were wide open, like lanterns in the dark, and he was biting his lip, no doubt trying to stifle any more sounds. Suguru almost laughed. Seeing Satoru like this…was so very very different from what he usually dreamed about or imagined, but…it made him want to bully him.

Suguru shifted on his knees until he could get enough leverage to bounce on Satoru’s lap, just enough to mimic the motion of riding him without losing too much of the friction between them. The hands on his hips tightened almost instantaneously and Satoru began thrusting up to meet him. Soft moans spilled from Suguru’s mouth, and as much as he liked this position, he wanted to take advantage of a pliant Satoru and kiss him again. He leaned down only to have his head yanked back by his hair, pulling a stilted moan from him. Satoru shifted underneath him as he sat up, and all Suguru could think about was that night in the inn long ago. He swallowed. Satoru’s hand moved from his hair, sliding down his back and resting just above the curve of his ass. His hand didn’t so much as restrict his motion as it did push him down harder into Satoru’s small thrusts.

Satoru leaned in closer and, for a moment, Suguru thought he was going to kiss him, but he bypassed his face and bit his earlobe, his teeth playing with his gauge. “Do you have any lube?” Satoru asked, pressing a kiss against the shell of his ear. His voice was raspy and affected.

Suguru shuddered, and in his delight at hearing the voice he’d been deprived of so far, he almost missed the question.

‘Why would he ask for lube? He’s always just fucked right into me before,’ Suguru thought. His dreams never required prepwork before. ‘Though, I always wanted to know what it felt like if he fingered me open.’

Suguru shook his head.

“Fuck. So you just waltz in here, no lube, yet pull this?” Suguru couldn’t quite place Satoru’s tone. “Whatever, I’m not letting you get away after all of this. We’ll just make it work.”

Suguru found himself thrown back against the futon, his body bouncing off of the futon a few times. “Satoru!” He chided more out of habit than with any real meaning behind it.

“Satoru!” Satoru mocked, and Suguru couldn’t even respond because Satoru was suddenly between his legs and his shirt was rucked up to his armpits and two fingers were tapped against his lips. “Suck.”

He opened his lips and Satoru’s fingers slid inside. They were cool, slightly salty, and heavy on his tongue. His chest felt warm—Satoru licked stripes up his body and sucked marks into his skin. His fingers pushed in and out of his mouth. Suguru quivered and moaned around the intrusion. Satoru’s fingers hit the back of his throat and he swallowed around them. He could feel drool trickling out of his mouth. His head felt spacey. He wondered if Satoru’s hand could go further down his throat. It would probably tear his throat, his esophagus…no, it would definitely tear more than that, but if it was Satoru, he wouldn’t mind. He’d take anything—

Suguru whined, his hand darting up to grab Satoru’s wrist. Why was Satoru trying to move his hand? Suguru was being good for once—

“Shhh, I gotta open you up now, Suguru,” Satoru laughed, his voice low.

Suguru shakily propped himself up on his elbows. He rubbed away the drool running down the side of his mouth. “Sa~to~ru~”

Blue eyes snapped up to him, his pupils constricted. “Fuck,” he mumbled, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Suguru squeaked. Something cool and wet pressed against his entrance.

“Relax,” Satoru said. One of his hands slid underneath his thigh and moved his leg over his shoulder. “Or have you never done this before?”

“It’s…been a while,” Suguru responded once the question finally registered. Wait, had Satoru done this before?!

“I said relax. You’re tight as hell.” Satoru leaned over him and kissed him hard. Suguru gasped into the kiss and a finger pushed inside of him. He could feel Satoru smile against his lips as his finger pushed deeper and he was already prodding a second one against his entrance. The muscles in his leg trembled from extertion—he was flexible enough for it to stay there but stretching cold muscles was never pleasant.

Suguru pulled away from the kiss, his head foggy. “It’s too dry to do two so soon.”

Satoru clicked his tongue and Suguru yelped because Satoru’s hand was around his dick, casually twisting up and down it.

“There. That should be wet enough,” Satoru grinned cheekily, teasingly running his fingers down his dick and to his perineum.

Suguru squirmed but the first finger must’ve triggered his muscle memory because Satoru’s fingers pushed in easier than the first time.

“Fuck, and you were saying it was too soon.” Satoru’s eyes were blown wide open, like a cat high on catnip.

“Shut the fuck up and get to work,” Suguru hissed. He pulled himself together long enough to flick him between the eyes.

Satoru’s nose scrunched up and then a mischievous look crossed his face. He pressed blooming kisses onto Suguru’s skin as his fingers scissored back and forth and then crooked up just so and Suguru’s back arched off of the bed, his mouth falling open into a silent cry.

“Found it faster than I thought I would.” Suguru could hear the smugness in his voice as he continued to “accidentally” graze his prostate every-so-often and it only pissed him off even more.

“S-Stop fucking around and open me up properly,” Suguru said, kicking the heel of his other leg into Satoru’s back. “S-Satoru!”

Satoru released his areola with a pop, his eyes crinkled in delight. “Now you’re reacting here, huh? Guess I gotta mark you up here all over again.”

“N-No, it’s s-sensitive—!” His words devolved into a moan when Satoru bit his chest again. His tongue laved over him as if he was candy, and then he started torturing his other bud with his free hand. He thrashed about fruitlessly on the futon—Satoru’s weight kept him pinned in place—but he couldn’t help it because he’d never felt so sensitive before. His nerves were on fire and his chest felt like it was about to split open under Satoru’s ministrations. “Satoru, please it’s too much,” he begged.

“Why? Don’t you think you can cum twice?” Satoru leaned close to his ear, his voice low and devilish.

Suguru violently shook his head. He was tired, no, exhausted. Even through the haze of arousal and the constant assault of pleasure, he could tell he was tired. He would be surprised if he didn’t pass out the instant he finished, especially with the way Satoru was torturing him.

“Phshh, another time, then.” Satoru moved away from him and Suguru resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him back in. Both his legs were pushed up into his chest, his knees touching the outside of his shoulders. Satoru’s dick pressed against his entrance and holy fuck this was actually happening.

“Don’t tighten up again, relax,” Satoru said, his voice tense.

Suguru shuddered and took a deep, shaky breath. Why couldn’t he relax? It wasn’t like this was the first time Satoru had fucked him in his dreams—hell, he was normally a lot rougher, so why was he so damn nervous?!

“If I jerk you off, will that help?” Satoru asked. Suguru shook his head. With the way his body was acting now, he wasn’t sure how he would react. “Okay, let’s try something else. Open up~”

Satoru grabbed his chin and Suguru opened his mouth.

“Stick out your tongue. Good boy.” And then Satoru spat on his tongue.

Suguru shuddered violently. His initial reaction was a wave of overwhelming disgust—rolling, rolling waves of disgust until his stupid, traitorous brain tapped two fucked-up wires together and he fucking moaned. Satoru’s pupils narrowed into pinpoints and his eyes seemed to glow even brighter—Suguru could clearly see the red coloring his cheekbones.

“Wow…isn’t that a little too much of a reaction, Suguru?” Satoru’s words were barely louder than a whisper. Suguru almost didn’t hear them over the pounding of his heart. “Or are you secretly a little slut?”

A sound came out of the back of his throat—a botched denial—and he tried to shake his head but Satoru’s grip on his chin was firm and he spat in his mouth again. Suguru whined. Satoru forced his mouth shut.

“Swallow.”

Suguru swallowed and stuck his tongue out again. Satoru dropped on top of him, knocking the air out of him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, Suguru you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered into his shoulder. Satoru felt hot against his skin. He felt hot. Satoru pushed off of him and tapped two fingers onto his tongue. Suguru closed his mouth around them. His mind went fuzzy again, faster than all the other times and it was so nice.

“You’re so…docile like this.” Satoru’s words barely registered. Nothing was really registering anymore except the slow creep of Satoru’s fingers further down his throat. He wanted to bite them off and swallow them to keep a part of him and keep eating and keep eating and keep eating and keep eating and keep eating and keep eating and keep eating—

Suguru choked—Satoru entered him in one smooth, forceful thrust. Satoru removed his fingers in an instant and Suguru couldn’t even complain because he was still coughing. A firm hand splayed across his back and pushed him upright which didn’t help anything because now Satoru was pressed up right against his fucking prostate and he couldn’t think and why was he still fucking moving?!

“Shit, Suguru, are you okay? I’m sorry,” Satoru rambled, rubbing his back in a would-be-soothing motion if, you know, he wasn’t right up against his fucking prostate.

“S-Stop. Moving!” Suguru hissed. Satoru stopped moving and Suguru could finally think. He was never in any danger of choking—he never was, and never would be. Sure he gagged a little bit, but it was out of shock. If anything, it was Satoru’s fault that embarrassing situation happened in the first place, just shoving his dick into him with no warning. Pinpricks of pleasure and a dull uncomfortableness spread throughout his nerves. Their foreheads were pressed together: Satoru was a warm, heavy weight against him, inside of him. Satoru’s semi-matted bangs mingled with the dark strands sticking against his damp forehead. It felt real.

It felt…real.

Suguru swallowed. (don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it)

“This isn’t a dream.”

Satoru didn’t say anything. Suguru fell back onto the bed and Satoru followed him down, caging him in between his arms.

“You must dream about me often, then. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Satoru was propped over him on his forearms but he was too close and it felt like every movement he made made him press deeper inside of him and it turned his brain so soupy he couldn’t think of a response or anything. “Hmm? Suguru?”

Suguru turned his head to the side, covering his face with his hands. Satoru grabbed his wrists and pinned his hands above his head.

“Don’t ignore me,” Satoru said.

He didn’t want to ignore Satoru (he never could)—he wanted to bury himself six feet below ground and rot away and pretend this never happened. But…he couldn’t, so…

“Yes,” Suguru mumbled. Satoru held his wrists in place with one hand and grabbed his chin, turning his head until they were looking at each other.

“Huh. So you’ve been ignoring me because you were embarrassed about your naughty wet dreams?”

He would be lying if he said the shame didn’t influence his actions, but it wasn’t the sole reason. (no, it was the envy, the envy bleeding into every part of him and exacerbating the not good enough, the jealousy burning wildly whenever it was others making him laugh and not him, the weariness of exorcising and exorcising and exorcising and losing himself)

“Yeah…” he said, because it was easier than admitting everything that was wrong with him.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed. “Suguru—”

“Will you fucking move?” Suguru snapped, bucking his hips up into Satoru’s. He was tired and sensitive and horny—he wanted to get fucked, not psychoanalyzed. “Or I’ll leave and get off on my own.”

“Yeah?” Satoru snorted. It didn’t sound like he believed him (that was fair—Suguru barely believed himself half of the time).

‘Yeah,’ Suguru attempted to say, though his words were mangled into a moan when Satoru suddenly pulled out and snapped his hips back in with a vengeance.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said, his voice tight, “seeing as all you can do is dream about getting fucked like a—like a fucking slut.”

Suguru gasped and his fingers dug into Satoru’s shoulders because all he could do was hold on.

“Huh, Suguru? Not gonna f-fucking mouth off this time?”

“Fuck o-off,” Suguru said, but it was all high and breathy and not intimidating at all.

Satoru laughed and somehow that made his stomach do more flips than the dick currently rearranging his guts did. Satoru dropped onto his forearms and his lips were on Suguru’s, swallowing up all the messy, wanton sounds he couldn’t be bothered to hide. One of Satoru’s hands caressed his cheek before sliding down his side to grip possessively at his ass.

Satoru pulled away just to nip at his bottom lip. “Bend your leg.”

Suguru tried but his leg wouldn’t cooperate. “Can’t,” he whimpered.

Satoru sighed and shoved his leg into his chest and Suguru sobbed.

“Oh, Satoru, right there, f-fuck~”

He laughed again and buried his face into his neck, sucking harsh marks into the skin (oh he loved him he loved him he loved him he loved him). Suguru felt like he was about to squirm out of his body. He couldn’t remember any of his past dreams but he knew that they paled in comparison to this messy, vivid, real moment. Every nerve was alight and his brain wasn’t working and his body ached with pleasure.

“S’toru ‘m close,” he slurred out and let out the loudest, neediest whine because why was he stopping? “Satoruuu~” His hips rolled up and he fucked himself onto his dick once, twice, before firm hands grasped his hips. Suguru whined again. Why had Satoru moved away he wanted him close, pressed against him inside of him all of him every part of him—

“Are you gonna avoid me again after this?” Satoru asked breathlessly.

Suguru shook his head (he was). Satoru rewarded him with a sharp thrust to his prostate.

“Yeah? You aren’t gonna turn tail and run away from me as if I killed your fucking family?”

Suguru shook his head again. “N-No—Satoruuuuuu~” Another rough thrust.

“And you aren’t just saying that so I fuck you?”

“No no no, Satoru please, I’m s-so close a-and I’m just fucking tired and it hurts,” Suguru hiccuped. He reached up with shaky arms and entangled his fingers behind Satoru’s neck, pulling him down until he could rest his forehead against his shoulder. “P-Please, Sa–Satoru. Please.”

Satoru groaned. “You’re so fucking lucky I like you. So. Fucking. Lucky.”

The first thrust missed his prostate but the next one and the next one and the next one and the next one and—

“I could smell it, you know,” Satoru panted into his ear. “This morning, and you were lying there all pretty—w-wanted to fuck you so bad. Was late ‘cuz I had my head buried where you were a-and, fuck, I don’t think ’ve ever cum so hard so fast.”

Despite everything else that led up to this situation, it was only then that Suguru felt such an overwhelming surge of embarrassment that he actually thought he was going to die. (but Satoru was thinking about him Satoru wanted him Satoru wanted him Satoru wanted him) Suguru saw stars. His back arched off the futon and he wasn’t sure if he let out a sound or not but his brain was blessedly quiet until—

“S-Suguru, can I—”

“No,” Suguru snapped, unfortunately coming down from his high, “Not unless you’re cleaning up.”

Satoru whined and no matter how much Suguru loved that sound he wasn’t going to budge on this. Satoru pulled out (thankfully, he was a few seconds away from being overstimulated) and there was a weight on his chest and a hand cupping his jaw.

“Open,” Satoru ordered. He looked devastating. One of his hands pressed against the wall to keep him balanced (Suguru desperately wished the room wasn’t so dark so he could see his muscles flexing) and the other furiously pumped his dick. His eyes were as dark as sin and his bangs were sticking to his forehead and Suguru wanted him so badly. He opened his mouth and his tongue lolled out.

“Fuck, Suguru—”

He closed his eyes moments before a burst of hot cum landed on his face and in his mouth. Shit aim, he’d like to tell him, but he doubted it was anything but intentional. His eyelashes slowly fluttered open. They felt heavy. Satoru’s chest was heaving and he was staring at Suguru as if he was a work of art something special worth his attention worth him his. He swallowed.

Satoru leaned down and licked the cum off of his face.

‘Gross,’ Suguru thought, but it was Satoru so he didn’t mind.

“Taste’s like shit,” Satoru said, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

“It’s your cum. Eat healthier,” Suguru said (he didn’t hate the taste—he had worse).

Satoru laughed and his hands were on his cheeks and he pressed the sweetest, gentlest kiss against his lips. “You’re perfect.”

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Chapter Text

Suguru didn’t remember much after that. He woke up tucked against Satoru’s chest, their legs intertwined and no stickier than the sweat one would expect to accumulate from sleeping pressed against another individual. He shook Satoru awake and stumbled over to his room. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he changed and grabbed his bag—the room was trashed.

The cab ride to the train station was quiet. Suguru leaned against the car door and Satoru leaned against him, curling into his side like a big, dumb dog with separation anxiety. On the train, they rotated the seats around and Suguru took the window seat until he got fed up with Satoru poking him and they switched. Satoru shoved his DS into his hands and clung onto his arm the entire time.

“You’re lucky you haven’t lost rights to Turtwig as yet,” Satoru had said as the game booted up into a new save. Suguru could’ve kissed him.

The trip back to Tokyo was so much easier than the trip out. There was no Mei Mei, Satoru wasn’t ignoring him (and he wasn’t ignoring Satoru), and he didn’t feel like he was going to phase out of existence even though all he had to eat was that onigiri from the snack stand at the station that may or may not have still been good.

He felt like he could breathe again.

“I’m glad to see the two of you made up.”

Suguru flinched and raised his head from Satoru’s DS. Yaga stood over them, his arms crossed. He sounded both relieved and exasperated. They were back on campus, sitting on the ledge of one of the many verandas. There was a bag of chips at his side that Satoru kept reaching over him to grab from even though he had his own bag by his side.

“But aren’t you two forgetting something?” Yaga continued, his brows furrowing.

‘Shit. The mission report.’

“Sorry, Yaga-sensei—” Satoru dragged him back down before he could even start to get up.

“Ugh, why are you always nagging us, Yaga-sensei?” Satoru sighed, pulling out a folder from his jacket. Somehow.

Yaga’s frown only deepened as he took the folder from Satoru and flipped through it but all Suguru could think about was the fact that Satoru did the mission report himself. He never did mission reports if he could help it—he’d always foist them onto whoever his unlucky partner was (which normally was him, in the past).

Suguru bit his lip. ‘When did he even have time to write it up?’

“Hmph.” Yaga closed the folder with an exaggerated snap. “The first thing you should’ve done since coming back was handing this over. You two know this.”

“Sorry, Yaga-sensei,” he apologized.

“Bah, what difference does it make if it comes in an hour early or an hour l—OWWWWW!!!” Satoru curled up beside him, holding his head in his hands. “Why do you always hit meeeeee?!”

Yaga’s eyebrows started twitching. Suguru covered Satoru’s mouth with his hand before he could mouth off anymore and give their sensei an ulcer.

“Sorry, Yaga-sensei,” Suguru apologized again, giving him his best don’t-be-mad smile.

Yaga sighed and massaged the spot between his brows. “Satoru…you have another mission which you are late for because you decided to frolic off.” He held out a mission report that Suguru accepted since Satoru was still being dramatic on the ground. “If you leave now, you should be able to finish up in time to make it back tonight. If you can’t, you’re finding your own lodging for the night.”

Satoru’s glasses had slid down his nose so Suguru could see him rolling his eyes.

“As for you, Suguru, this just came in.” Yaga placed the report on top of his head. “You should also be able to finish up and return tonight. Even though the two of you wasted half the day away.”

“Mhm,” Suguru smiled and Yaga walked away.

Suguru’s smile fell the moment Yaga’s back disappeared around the corner. “I can hold two files at once,” he scowled, tilting his head down. The file slid into his lap. He yanked his hand away from Satoru’s mouth. “Ugh, Satoru! Gross!”

The warm, damp spot on his palm rapidly cooled. It was an unpleasant feeling (it reminded him too much of the times he had to wipe away the vomit from his mouth).

“Hmm?” Satoru sat up, a mischievous grin on his face. “You didn’t seem to mind so much when—ghaaack!”

He fell off the veranda and onto the dusty ground below. Suguru mourned the fact that they weren’t sitting above the pond and kicked him one more time because of it.

“Suguru~” Satoru whined.

Suguru stood up and dusted himself off, grabbing his file before it slid off of him completely. “Here,” he said, throwing Satoru’s file on top of him. It stopped a few inches above his head. Satoru didn’t seem like he was going to stop wallowing in self-pity any time soon (like he was one to talk) so he walked away.

“H-Hey, Suguru! Where are you going?!” Satoru shouted after him.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend the night in a hotel again.” Suguru didn’t turn around. He turned around, a smile unconsciously making its way onto his face. “Let’s see who gets back first.”

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

He lied. He remembered soothing fingers running through his hair, a gentle kiss pressed against the crown of his head. A sweet, earnest promise whispered against the corner of his eye.

“Talk to me. Trust me. No matter what, I’ll always be on your side.”
“Just please…don’t leave me again”

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

He stopped avoiding Satoru. It wasn’t a deliberate decision—he simply didn’t have to. They were being run ragged. The worst of the summer heat had come and passed, and with it came the curses born from the tempers that always rose with the temperature. It didn’t help that it was the hottest August they’d had in a while.

No, he hadn’t been avoiding Satoru at all. It was the opposite. Whenever he dragged himself back from the showers (he still hated them), stepping in and out of the squares of moonlight on the floor, he’d always check Satoru’s room first before going into his own. If he saw a lump sprawled out on the bed, he’d step in the room, shut the door behind him, and make his way over. Satoru always rolled over to make space for him (he was a light sleeper—Suguru could never tell if it was his footsteps or the door opening that woke him). And if he wasn’t in his room, Suguru would retire to his own bed and wake up with the lingering scent of him and the hazy memory of someone curling up beside him (and without fail, Suguru would shove his fingers up his ass and bury his face wherever Satoru’s scent was strongest). Of course, that only happened on the days they were both at Jujutsu High for the night.

Otherwise, they rarely caught each other alone. In fact, the last time he saw Satoru had been a week ago. He was in the kitchen with Shoko and Nanami, the three of them standing around a giant takeout container of zaru soba on the counter when he walked in. Shoko had paused, her hand half-way to her mouth as noodles dangled from her chopsticks, and frowned. Nanami grabbed him a dish and a pair of chopsticks as Shoko slid over a few notes of yen to Satoru.

“Shoko wanted goya-chanpuru but I told her you’d probably be back soon so we should get zaru soba to split instead,” Satoru had explained, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I should’ve known better than to bet against the fucking Geto Suguru-sensor,” Shoko grumbled, elbowing Satoru. Suguru had simply laughed (he had felt so unbearably happy).

They’d never ended up talking about that night (he prayed it stayed that way).

“Pardon me, young man, what stop is next?”

Suguru’s eyes dropped to his side. A crooked man was in the seat next to him, one gnarled hand shakily holding onto a cane and the other tenuously held onto his sleeve. His eyes narrowed in on the bony fingers holding onto him. The train car went dark—they entered a tunnel.

fucking monkey

“Young man?”

The train car brightened. His grip on the strap tightened. He pulled his other arm free of the man’s grasp.

“Ah, sorry. I’m afraid I don’t know either,” he smiled.

“Eh? Is that so.” The old man said before slowly turning to the person sitting next to him to ask again.

Suguru wanted to scratch at his arm burn the sleeve burn the man (he didn’t do anything shut up there are 10,000 deaths annually, what’s one more shut up). Suguru closed his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. And he opened his eyes in another backwater village in the middle of nowhere a million train stops and a bus ride away. He was tired. So. Fucking. Tired. He couldn’t remember if he exorcised the curse already or not…though given the way this idiot kept bowing at him, he probably did. He didn’t need to be here anymore.

“Geto-san, before you go—” Suguru snatched his arm away before the idiot could grab it. The idiot stared at him in shock. (who even was this?)

“What is it?” Suguru asked with a smile because Geto Suguru was always polite.

“Th-That is, uh, would you come with me?” The man asked. Suguru nodded because he was already here and followed the fool. “The Ⴘꕤ﹆𓂅ꮺǂ𓂅’s have two ⋆⌗ഒ﹅ ꗃꕤ✦﹅ഒଘ𓍼 ﹅ꕤ✧⌯⋆⊹ ꮺꔛ and have asked for help getting rid of them.”

Suguru could feel a migraine forming. ‘What the hell is this fucker babbling about?’

The man led him to a house and a couple well-past their prime rushed out. Suguru rolled up his sleeves before they could grab at his arms, too. It was too hot to wear the uniform jacket but he dearly missed the extra layer it gave him against the world.

“This way, this way,” the woman said, ushering him through the house as the man prattled on about some shit he didn’t care about when could he go—

Suguru froze in his tracks. He hadn’t really been paying attention as to where they were going in the house, but it seemed like some back room. He slowly walked across the tatami floor, feeling it dip beneath his feet. The room was dank and humid. The only light in the room came from two candles. The back part of the room was separated by wooden bars. It was a cage. A cage with two little girls trapped inside. They were both brunettes. One had darker hair than the other.

“What…is this?” He asked. His voice was even.

“Eh? Weren’t you listening?” The woman scolded as the man hurriedly talked over her, “These two are responsible for the latest incidents, right?”

(why did their voices sound so far away?)

Suguru swallowed. He pressed his thumb against his temple. His head hurt. “No, they’re not.”

“You don’t understand!” The man said, his voice dripping with vitriol, “They used their mysterious power to attack the village!”

“No, I’ve already exterminated the cause of those incidents,” he explained calmly.

“My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two, too!” The woman angrily interjected.

One of the girls perked up. “That’s because she—”

“Shut up, you monsters!” The woman shrieked.

“I don’t wanna play with him! He talks to monsters!”

“These two are crazy! A-And your parents were just as bad!”

“He’s crazy…his poor parents”

“I knew we should have killed you two when you were babies! This is what we get for trying to be good people and take in monsters like them!”

“Why are you like this? Do you enjoy giving your parents grief? Can’t you just be normal?!”

eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat
eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat kill eat eat kill kill eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat kill eat kill kill eat kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

“Shut up…” Suguru mumbled.

kill them all kill them all eat eat eat eat never hungry again eat eat eat eat

“What did you say?!” The man snapped.

Suguru grabbed his head. No no no no no no he was doing so well (eat) he hadn’t been throwing (eat eat) up recently and he was eating (yes eat eat eat eat eat) two proper meals (EAT) now (EAT EAT EAT EAT) instead of one and he had been doing so well.

and you can do better if you kill eat them

No, no he didn’t—

don’t you hate monkeys?

Yes, but—

don’t you want them gone?

Yes…

it’s not a bad thing—you’re trying to save people like you.
there’s meaning in that.
significance.
Meaning.

“This part of you despising non-sorcerers, and this part of you rejecting that…it’s up to you to choose which part…becomes your true feelings from here on out.”

He’d been meaning to do this, anyway, hadn’t he? No time like the present.

Suguru turned around, a smile on his face. “Everyone, shall we step outside for a moment?”

“....please….don’t leave”

Suguru froze midstep. What…was that memory? It sounded like—

EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT

No, he was almost positive that was—

EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT

That night, Satoru had said— EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT
—he’d asked him not to leave him? EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT
No, no if he killed them then he’d have to leave Satoru. EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT He couldn’t leave him all alone. EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT After all, they were The StrongEAT EAT EAT EAT KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL No, shut up KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL shut up shut up KILL KILL shut up KILL KILL KILL shut KILL up KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL he KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL couldn’t KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL fucking KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL think KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL—

A hand grabbed his arm. The air fractured and two tentacles shot out of the void. The walls cracked. There was a loud, bloody hack. He couldn’t breathe. KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

His hands shook as he grabbed his phone from his pocket. He dropped it. KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

He held 7. The ringback tone played. KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

‘Please please please please,’

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

His back hit the wall and he slid to the ground. He didn't know how he got there.

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

The phone was about to stop ringing (no no no no yes yes yes kill kill kill kill kill—

“Suguru, hey, I’m a little busy—”

“I want to kill them,” Suguru blurted out. It wasn’t what he meant to say at all.

“What? That’s not funny.” Satoru’s voice was tinny and disappointed and too far away.

“I mean it. What’s the point of keeping any of them alive when all they do is create more work for us until they die anyway?”

“Who’s th—never mind. Just don’t kill anyone.”

NO NO NO NO KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

“But—”

“NO!”

NO KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

Suguru bit his lip. If he didn’t, then what was he supposed to do with this feeling trapped inside of him? It would eat him first. It already tried to do it once before. It’d crack open his insides and tear him apart it’d eat him first it’d eat him first it’d KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

“Satoru,” Suguru gasped. “‘toru I can’t breathe.”

“Shit, I just–” A heavy gust of wind blew into the mic “–gimme a sec, don’t hang up!”

“C-Can you talk to me? P-Please?”

“Yeah! Do you wanna hear about—SHIT SHIT SHIT—i-ignore that, uh, the latest Digimon episode? I’m still behind but there’s not much I can do about that.”

NO NO No kill kill kill eat eat eat eat

“Uh-huh,” Suguru said softly.

eat eat eat eat

“Okay, so last episode…”

Suguru buried his face in his knees. Satoru’s voice drowned out the one(s) in his head and as long as he did that then Suguru wouldn’t think of anything bad and he wouldn’t do anything bad even though he wanted t—

“Suguru!”

He startled, the phone falling from its spot between his head and knee. He quickly scooped it back up. “S-Sorry, I…zoned out.” He said weakly.

“Where are you?” Satoru asked.

“I’m in…” His voice trailed off. Where was he? Suguru shakily got to his feet, using the wall as a support. His head hurt and his body felt like it was on the verge of collapsing in on itself and he was going to vomit. “‘toru, you’re not supposed to stop talking.”

“Right, sorry. Lemme recap ‘cause you weren’t listening…”

With the wall as his crutch, Suguru made his way back over to the cage. He broke it open with some difficulty—his body refused to cooperate. The children stared up at him in wonder. He held out his phone.

“Do you mind…telling him where this is?” He asked softly (his head hurt his head hurt his head hurt)

The girl with the lighter colored hair took his phone and whispered something into the receiver before handing it back.

“Satoru?” Suguru said sluggishly, holding the phone up to his ear.

“I’m on the way, just hang tight. Don’t do anything reckless,” Satoru said.

“Okay. Don’t stop talking,” Suguru mumbled. He felt like passing out. He reached down with his free hand and, after a moment, the light-haired girl grabbed his hand. He brought them back over to where he first collapsed against the wall because he didn’t have the energy to move any further but he didn’t want to leave them in the cage. He sat down and they curled up next to him. Were they cold? The room was muggy but they were shivering. Did he have anything that wasn’t that scary—no, did he even dare try to use his technique again? He cast a critical eye at the curse he accidentally summoned still half-hanging out of the void.

….now that he thought about it, it was probably for the best that it stayed mostly hidden. It wasn’t the most…attractive curse, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare the children. Did he really have nothing he could summon? Would a manta ray work?

“Satoru…”

The word vomit spilling into his ears stopped abruptly. “Yeah?”

“Do I have any cute looking curses?”

“Uh, oh! That, um, whaddya call it, kyūbi you got last year!”

Holy shit. How could he forget about it? He’d been sent with Utahime because the local deity, a kyūbi, had gone off the rails. He still wasn’t sure what caused it, but its rage was so severe that Utahime couldn’t appease it, leaving him to eat exorcise it before the scope of its destruction spread.

“Thanks,” he said, and tuned out whatever Satoru was saying again.

Okay. Okay. All he had to do was summon the kyūbi, not let the other curse crawl out completely, and not accidentally use the reverse of his technique (was it the reverse or was he just completely broken?) and eat kill eat delete everyone out of existence.

Okay. Don’t think about that. Think about the fox. What had it looked like again? Was it cream-colored or red? Were its eyes bleeding with grief? Had it been crying for retribution against the monkeys people monkeys that had defiled its land, killed its kin, spat upon its good grace why had he stopped it why hadn’t he helped it it wasn’t its fault was it his?

Suguru bit his lip. ‘Stop thinking and just summon the damn curse.’

He felt a needling pull at his core. A thread the color of curse orbs drifted out of him, not unlike a spiderweb in the wind. It felt gentle.

Until it snapped taut and he choked. He grabbed at his chest—the thread went through his fingers but he could feel it vibrating through his hand. The end of the thread frayed and split apart. The air split and crackled and eat Suguru eat couldn’t eat keep eat it eat together eat his eat head eat was eat ringing eat he eat was eat going eat to eat pass eat out eat why eat wasn’t eat Satoru eat there eat yet eat PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER

The thread snapped back together and the vibrations hit his chest and rippled throughout his body. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but it was at the bottom of his priority list because the air cracked open again and out stepped a majestic russet fox. Its tail spun in a circle and unfurled into nine.

The children gasped. Suguru slid an arm around them and wriggled just far enough from the wall for the kyūbi to worm its way behind them. It laid down, its many tails falling around them like a blanket. He could feel the children slowly relax against him. His head fell back against the curse’s body. It was surprisingly warm. His phone was balanced precariously on his shoulder and the curse’s body—it was one deep breath away from falling and hitting one of the girls in the head but he could still hear Satoru’s tinny voice rambling away and he was so tired.

He stared up at the ceiling and sighed (internally—his phone really would fall if he moved too much). Why did he call Satoru? What was the point of it all? Why didn’t he just burn everything down like he intended? There was a reason for it, just like there was a reason when Satoru wanted to massacre the members of that pathetic church. He shouldn’t have stopped Satoru then. He shouldn’t have stopped himself—shouldn’t be stopping himself. Why should he have to play savior to people who would gut him in a heartbeat?

(there was a reason)

Why was he born like this why was he just a cog in the wheel why was he another body on the pile he didn’t want to die like this—

Suguru inhaled and stopped halfway. His phone slid a breath down his shoulder. Satoru sounded so far away. Suguru bit his lip. His eyes watered. Satoru was always so far away what was he thinking trying to be like him trying to be worthy of him he was useless and his own technique was going to kill him if the curses or the monkeys didn’t and wouldn’t that just be pathetic dying to the one thing he was supposed to have full control over but he didn’t and he never would at this rate Satoru already had a domain expansion and his technique reversal and he had nothing nothing nothing he’d always be nothing it’s all he ever was all he ever would be and the sky was cracking open again eat oh eat no eat please no eat focus don’t let it EAT them it eat was going to EAT them eat it eat was going to EAT him it was going to EAT him he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe—

“Suguru? H-Hey, Suguru!” Cool hands grabbed his face and through his hazy vision, Suguru could make out a halo of white hair.

“...Satoru?” Suguru mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into his hands. When did Satoru arrive? Suguru’s eyes snapped open. Satoru was here which meant that he saw him as a panicked, ugly mess. It was one thing to let down his mask around Satoru—to let him witness a few carefully cultivated moments where he struggled with his classes, his technique, the world, but it was another thing altogether to let his mask shatter completely and expose his fraudulent underbelly to the world.

But now he did, and there was no way Satoru would ever consider him a part of The Strongest ever again or wait for him or want to eat together or cloud watch or like him (because Satoru despised the weak)—

“Suguru!” Satoru snapped. A sharp, crisp slap to his face had him reeling. Suguru blinked repeatedly as his brain tried to refocus.

“What was that for?” He scowled. His cheek stung.

“You weren’t reacting to anything else,” Satoru frowned, and then shook his head. “Never mind. Can you call back your curse? They’re not dead yet and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to fill out a casualty report.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what Satoru meant. His eyes slid over his shoulder to the couple monkeys pinned against the wall.

“Why?” Suguru asked.

Satoru’s face scrunched up. “What do you mean why? We can’t go around killing people for no reason.”

“But I do have a reason. They were trying to kill the children.” Suguru pulled the girls closer against him and Satoru seemed to finally notice them. (the girls were still shivering—he wondered if it was out of fear instead of the cold, this time. Satoru often had that affect on people)

Satoru’s glasses had slid down his nose, so Suguru could see his cold, clear eyes slide back up to meet his. “And?”

His ears were ringing. “And?” He repeated.

“And what? It’s not the first time people have tried to kill others because they were different and it won’t be the last. The kids aren’t dead.”

“Because I stopped them!” Suguru’s voice cracked. “They were going to kill them—they wanted me to kill them!”

Satoru shook his head. “Exactly. Instead, you stopped them and maimed them. There’s no reason to kill them. We aren’t the police. We aren’t heroes. Our job is to exorcise curses and that’s it.” He stood up and brushed the non-existent dust off of him. “I mean, I can just exorcise it myself but I didn’t want to deplete your stock when you hate replenishing it.”

Suguru shot to his feet, accidentally bumping the girls forward. “There is a reason.”

Satoru studied him through his shades—Suguru couldn’t see his eyes but he knew what it felt like to be studied under that gaze. Satoru shook his head and turned around, walking over to his curse. “We aren’t vigilantes.”

“Then what about Riko?” The words were out before Suguru could stop them (maybe he didn’t want to stop them).

Satoru went deathly still, his form backlit by the lone candle in the room. “What…about Riko?” Satoru’s words were cold. If Suguru was thinking straight, he would’ve backpeddled immediately, but he hadn’t been thinking straight for a long time (he’d long gone crazy).

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have stopped you.” Suguru felt feverish.

“No, you were right. Like you said, the only people there were common believers. The only share of the blame they had was for being stupid, gullible and throwing away their money, but there’s more people like that in the world than there are fish in the sea.”

“I was spouting bullshit to make myself feel better. People like that will only cause more problems, create more curses in the future.”

Satoru’s head rolled around as if he was trying to get a crick out of his neck. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “I knew you were, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t some truth in it.”

The ringing in his ears grew louder. ‘What?’

“There doesn’t need to be a point to killing as jujutsu sorcerers, but we exist to protect the world, anyway. You kill one guy that pisses you off cause ‘he’ll nurture curses’ and then another and another until you’re desensitized to it all and everyone’s free game in the name of ‘protecting the world’, and what’s the point of our existence if we get rid of the very things that define us?” Satoru continued.

Suguru shook his head. No. No no no no no.

“Why should we be defined by those weaker than us? Why should we care about their lives when they’re just ticking timebombs meant to snuff out ours?!” Suguru shouted.

“So we should just nip it in the bud?” Satoru said.

The ringing stopped and Suguru’s head went alarmingly clear so quickly he felt dizzy. Yes, yes, Satoru under—

No….what did that tone mean?

“That’s stupid. And impossible,” Satoru said.

Suguru bit his lip. “It’s not impossible.”

“Yeah, it is. Do you understand how many people are on this planet? Or even if you shrink the constraints to Japan or just Shibuya, do you understand how many people there are?” Satoru sighed and maybe his words wouldn’t have cut so much if he would just turn around.

“It’s not impossible for you—” He reached out and his hand slid off of Infinity.

Oh.

Oh.

From the moment they became friends and even when Suguru was blatantly avoiding him, Satoru had never shut him out with Infinity outside of pranks. But now…but now…!

The pain and hurt and disbelief all bled together into a cocktail of agony, but more than the pain of rejection and abandonment, he was furious.

“But you’re not me—” Satoru started.

“I know that!” Suguru snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not you and I’ll never be you!”

Satoru tilted his head, and finally (finally) turned around. He couldn’t see his eyes. He wanted to see his eyes Suguru stepped towards him.

“No matter how much I train, no matter how much I burn myself out,” He took another step. “I’ll never know what it’s like to have a technique that isn’t trying to eat me from the inside,” He took another step. “I’ll never know what it’s like to be born with the good fortune to not have to question my existence,” He took another step, and they were a breath apart. “I’ll never be perfect like you.”

His hand cupped Satoru’s cheek before he even realized he moved it. He pushed his glasses out of the way—Satoru’s eyes were wide and, and…and Suguru didn’t know what emotion was captured in them. His thumb brushed against his cheekbone and then under his eye. He wanted to dig his eye out  He wanted to dig his eyes out  He wanted to wrap his hands around that pale neck and dig his fingers into his flesh so he’d know how it felt when your body your technique your existence rejected itself  He wanted to eat him alive so he could never leave him  He wanted to know if he would still bleed red if he bit into the spare strip of meat between his collarbone and shoulder.

Suguru dropped his hand as if he burnt it.

“Suguru, I…” Satoru trailed off. Suguru held his gaze but he wasn’t really looking at him he was thinking about sucking his eyes out and if it would make him perfect.

“Suguru,” Satoru tried again, “I’m not…perfect.”

He frowned. “Don’t say things you don’t really mean.”

Satoru’s eyes flickered away. “Okay, sure your technique sort of sucks, but you don’t have to consume any more curses if you don’t want to. You have plenty of strong ones already and you’re a formidable fighter on your own.”

Suguru’s expression darkened further. Just because he stopped bringing in new ones wouldn’t stop the ones he already had from gnawing away at his insides until he was a hollow doll puppeted by curses.

“And you, you just can’t kill everyone.” Satoru sounded exasperated, almost like he was talking to a particularly difficult child (that’s because you are being childish). “What about your parents?”

“Fuck them,” Suguru snarled, and the words came out so suddenly and viscerally he startled himself. But he meant it. Deep, deep, deep down it was a feeling that always lurked underneath the surface ever since he realized they wouldn’t believe him if he wasn’t normal, wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t perfect (and Geto Suguru had never been perfect, he only pretended to be). He knew, ever since he was young and impressionable and naive and stupidly thought that curses were friends, they would lock him up in an asylum and throw away the key and pretend they never had a son than admit they had one that was crazy (and he wasn’t, he wasn’t fucking crazy).

“You can’t mean that,” Satoru said weakly as if he already knew the answer. “S-Suguru, you can’t mean that.” He grabbed him by the shoulders. “They’re your parents—you love them. And there has to be people you still like. What about the owner of that burger place on the corner who always gave us extra fries or whipped cream on our milkshakes? What about Satoshi Taijiri?! O-Or Kiku-chan?”

Suguru threw his arms off of him. “You’re going to bring up Kiku after we fucked?”

Satoru’s face colored and his hands fell to his side. “Suguru…okay, I get that their lives can seem kind of pointless when they’re so squishy and fragile, but that’s what makes them special. They’re like your little Sims that you have to take care of.”

Suguru shook his head and a choked sound escaped his mouth, half a broken laugh and half a pained sob. “No, you don’t get it…” he said quietly.

“I mean, I think I do—”

“No, you don’t!” Suguru blew up. “You never will! I wasn’t born into the jujutsu world like you or Shoko! I didn’t know what was going on when I started seeing curses and everyone made me think I was making it up or going crazy. Those things I thought were my friends made a game of reporting me to the village head whenever I did anything they didn’t like—do you know how many times they locked me up in the name of fixing me?! Do I seem fixed?!”

The room was deathly silent. A low, choked, gurgling sound was coming from behind Satoru.

“I don’t want to die,” his voice cracked, devolving into shaky sobs, “for people who’d spit on my grave and say I was crazy. I had dreams…that weren’t just praying my friends made it back alive…or that there’d at least be pieces of their body left to bury…”

Suguru’s head fell against Satoru’s shoulder, his hands tightening against the front of his shirt (when did they get there?). Ever so slowly, he could feel Satoru’s arms rising until they tentatively wrapped around him.

“I’m sorry. I guess I don’t understand,” Satoru whispered and Suguru shook and cried, because if Satoru (his other half, his soulmate, his yang) didn’t (couldn’t) understand, then what was left for him? (he was alone)

“I guess I could look the other way, this time.”

Suguru gasped, his head snapping up so quickly he would’ve hit Satoru’s chin if the other hadn’t pulled back in time.

“Two casualties isn’t uncommon on missions, but don’t make a habit of this. You can’t kill anyone else,” Satoru said sternly.

(Suguru could’ve kissed him)

“I mean it. If this job’s eating you alive, leave after graduation, but don’t leave like this,” Satoru said before adding quietly, “If you get caught acting like a serial killer, I’m the one who’s going to be sent to execute you…”

Oh. Right. He forgot about that.

“Okay. Just this once,” Suguru promised. (it wouldn’t fix him but it would definitely make him feel better)

Satoru hummed, and one of his hands began playing with Suguru’s bang. “Or you could choose the forgiveness route.”

“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over them,” Suguru said immediately.

“Sure, maybe not now,” Satoru’s hand drifted to his face and began wiping away the tear trails. “But a few years down the line you might, and by then, it’ll be way too late to do anything about it. Ehh? Don’t make that face. You’re…a lot kinder inside than you give yourself credit for. Or would squishy make more sense? Hmm, soft?”

Suguru scowled and stepped out of Satoru’s arms. “That doesn’t make me feel any better or more inclined to let them live. And you’re pretty ‘squishy’ yourself—I’ve never heard you speak in the defense of people weaker than you before. Scared you might regret it?”

“Yeah,” Satoru said and Suguru had to grit his teeth to stop his jaw from opening in shock. “I don’t make choices that I regret. It’s not really in my character, but when it comes to you…there are times I wish I didn’t say something or I wish I did when I see how it affects you. I don’t want now to be one of those times I regret.”

Suguru swallowed. And then turned around. He felt cold. His face was burning. He scrubbed at his face, wiping away whatever marks Satoru hadn’t gotten earlier. His throat felt tight. He stared at the ground and then at the two girls still wrapped up in the kyūbi’s tails. He couldn’t read the emotion on their face. (were they scared of him? did they think he was crazy, too?)

He dropped down into a crouch, and their wide-eyed gazes followed him down. (he felt bad for breaking down in front of them)

“It isn’t good to project things onto others,” he heard himself say, “and I wasn’t the one they locked up. What do you want to happen to them?”

“Suguru!” Satoru snapped in the background, but he sounded far away.

The girls stared at him and then looked at each other. “You can get rid of them?” The lighter-haired girl asked.

“Yes.”

“Then get rid of them!” She said, and the other girl grabbed her shoulder.

“Nanako,” she whispered, “Nanako, no. Death is quick. May– may-ma-ing—”

“Maiming,” Suguru corrected.

“Maiming,” she continued, “is long. And painful.”

“Okay!” Suguru said cheerily.

(he wanted them dead)

He picked up the girls, one by one, and placed them on top of the kyūbi. “Wait outside, okay?”

The kyūbi stood up and stalked out, the children rocking side to side on its back.

“Maiming only,” Satoru said quickly when he turned around.

Suguru scowled. He didn’t want anything to do with them anymore. “You can deal with them.”

He called back his curse and walked out of the room. A brisk air pushed his hair into his face the moment he stepped outside the house; he pushed it out of the way. The kyūbi was sitting on its haunches by the front door, the children standing on either side of it, holding hands.

Suguru smiled and crouched down in front of them. “You know, I never introduced myself. I’m Geto Suguru, what are your names?”

The lighter-haired girl spoke up first. “I’m Hasaba Nanako and that’s my little sister Mimiko. Didya kill them?”

“May-im them,” Mimiko whispered.

He only felt slightly guilty at the violent words they were saying, but they couldn’t have picked that up from him so quickly. “My friend is handling it.”

At that, both girls flinched. “He’s scary,” Mimiko whispered and Nanako nodded in agreement.

“Oh, no, Satoru’s…” Suguru trailed off. He couldn’t really defend him. “He’s nice.”

The girls stared at him with barely disguised distrust.

“Anyway,” Suguru said, forcing cheer into his voice, “Do you two want to come with me? I don’t think it’d be appropriate to leave you two in a place like this.”

The children shared a look between each other. He didn’t blame them—he wouldn’t trust someone who was mentally unstable either. (he hadn’t expected the words to come out of his mouth until they did)

“I mean, I’m still a student myself and I’m not allowed to live off campus, but I can get an apartment for you to stay at and find a school for you to attend. I’ll stay over as often as I can,” Suguru continued.

“Why?” Mimiko asked.

Suguru shifted his weight onto his heels. “There’s not a lot of people like us in the world, and life is hard enough without going through it isolated.” The wind blew his bang into his face again and he moved it out of the way. “I mean, I don’t want you to have to go through what I went through. No one should have to think they’re a mistake or cursed because they were born the way they are.”

“You won’t hit us, right?” Nanako blurted out.

His eyes widened and oh, they really must think he was crazy (or maybe it was those fucking monkeys). “No, never. But that doesn’t mean I won’t scold you if you’re bad.”

“And we’ll get to eat a lot?” Mimiko asked.

“Whenever you want.” He wanted to kill them he wanted to kill them he wanted to kill them

The girls shared another look. “O…kay…” Nanako said.

Suguru smiled (for real, this time) and his heart felt lighter. “Okay,” he repeated.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

The one good thing that came from being a Special Grade sorcerer was the paycheck. Even as a student, with most of his earnings going towards his tuition, Suguru was still earning a tidy sum. Still, finding an apartment took time. He and Satoru snuck the girls onto campus and hid them in his room. Suguru acted more irritated about being forced to room with Satoru than he felt.

Shoko was told, of course, and roped into acting as the girls’ primary physician no matter how much she complained about pediatrics being outside of her purview. Suguru told Nanami because he trusted him to keep his mouth shut. Satoru told Yaga to strong-arm him into helping.

Something paradoxical ran through him whenever he saw the girls sneaking around campus. They made him happy. They eased whatever bitterness burned through his body and calmed his heart (especially when they called him “Geto-sama” with adoring voices and loving eyes, no matter how many times he told them otherwise). But at the same time, a sharp, painful fury took over him when he thought about why he was tripping over two pint-sized girls. If he dwelt on the feeling too long, he’d find himself wondering how long it’d take for him to make his way back to that village and burn it down (and other times he’d wonder what Satoru had done with that couple those monkeys—he’d never asked and Satoru never brought it up).

Fortunately, he found an apartment before he “did anything rash,” as Shoko liked to say. Yaga let him move off campus to stay with the girls—“It wouldn’t be right to leave two young girls alone longer than necessary,” he had said. Satoru all but begged him to stay (unfortunately, this was one thing Suguru wouldn’t do for him). The only time Suguru saw him look more hurt was at their graduation.

“So you’re leaving,” Satoru said. His voice was flat.

Suguru looked up at the sky. It was a cheery pastel blue decorated with a few fluffy clouds. It was warm, the sun beamed down on them and blessed their transition into a new part of life. Even the breeze felt sweet against his cheeks. It all felt hypocritical.

“Yeah,” Suguru said simply, because that’s all there was to say.

“Who died over here?” They both turned around as Shoko walked over, hand-in-hand with Nanako and Mimiko.

“Geto-sama, congratulations!” “Geto-sama, Geto-sama, congrats!” The girls chirped, throwing their arms around him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, patting them on their heads.

“Congrats. You look good with your hair down. It’s a shame you didn’t wear it like that more often,” Shoko said, poking his side. An unlit cigarette hung from her lips. He would scold her about having a cigarette around the children but he had given up on getting her to stop.

“Ah, thanks.” He had to keep his hair down or else the cap wouldn’t have fit. “Congratulations to you, too. The gown fits you.”

Shoko groaned and rolled her eyes. “Whaddya mean? It’s like I’m wearing a bag.”

He knew she didn’t mean it, because when Yaga handed them their caps and gowns last week, Shoko had paraded it up and down the halls until he told her to stop.

Suguru patted Nanako and Mimiko on the back. “Can you two go find Nanami for us? He’s supposed to take pictures.”

“Okay!” “Yes, Geto-sama!”

His smile fell as the girls ran off.

“Soooooo you’re leaving,” Shoko said, taking out her lighter from somewhere.

Suguru snorted. “Déjà vu.”

Satoru scowled and kicked at the ground. Shoko looked back and forth between them before sighing. “Listen, I don’t care what Satoru says, but I’m happy you’re leaving.”

Satoru looked up in shock, eyes widening and Suguru couldn’t help but mirror his expression. Shoko had never mentioned how she felt about him leaving before (Yaga had sighed and simply wrote a new contract for him; Nanami had hugged him and cried).

“Suguru, you—” She dropped her head and a curtain of bangs covered her face. “You don’t get how scary it was for a while. You looked like a walking corpse. I…I was so scared I would go looking for you and find a rotting body. I was so f-fucking scared.”

“Shoko—”

Her head snapped up and her trembling, watery eyes pinned him in place. “You were losing weight so quickly, you know? And I know you were throwing up nearly every meal—sometimes I would follow you and I’d hear you a-and I can tell when you come in for a check-up. Why else would I make a new fucking toothpaste or get you a mouth rinse or put you on IVs so often?!”

Suguru shook. He…

“So, yeah, I’m glad you’re getting the fuck out of here. Don’t come back if you can help it. Focus on getting better. You have kids to take care of, now. Just…don’t forget to call or text us, okay?”

He pulled her into a hug and he couldn’t tell if it was her chest heaving or his but in the next moment they were both crying so it didn’t really matter. Shoko pulled away just enough to stick out her arm towards Satoru.

“Get over here, you emotional deviant,” she chided, her voice watery.

Satoru shuffled over and they threw their arms around him. His head hung low and Suguru moved his arm from his back to push his hair out of his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses so Suguru could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Fuck you guys for making me cry. Gojo Satoru never cries,” he grumbled wetly.

Suguru didn’t mean to, but he laughed. Satoru’s pout only grew more pronounced and Shoko started laughing, too.

“I’ll call, okay?” Suguru said once the laughter and tears died down. “And I’ll come visit.”

“You better,” Satoru mumbled darkly and Shoko nodded in agreement.

Suguru smiled. It was a real smile. “Of course. I promise.”

“Now can we finally talk about the elephant in the room?” Shoko suddenly said and Suguru felt like he should run.

“What are you talking about?” Satoru asked and Suguru really felt like he should run.

“Remember when you guys came back from that mission with Mei Mei? Those were definitely bite marks on Suguru and—”

“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!” Satoru hollered.

“YOU TWO DEFINITELY FUCKED AND NO ONE TOLD ME EVEN THOUGH I WAS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO SPILL THE BEANS!!!” Shoko shouted over Satoru, somehow.

Suguru punched both of them in the gut and they doubled over in pain. “Can you two shut the fuck up?” He hissed, face burning.

“Satoru started shouting first,” Shoko grit out.

“And you say I’m tactless,” Satoru bit back.

“Listen, after third-wheeling you two for so long, I deserved to be the first to know.”

“But you just said that you knew.”

“Yeah, because of context clues and not because the two losers I have for best friends decided to tell me.”

“That’s because that’s like, private information or something?”

“You can’t use that as a defense when I was the one who had to hear you bitch about Suguru—”

“SHOKO SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”

Suguru turned around and walked away. “I’m leaving.”

Shoko and Satoru both turned towards him, panic clear across their faces. “Suguru, wait!” Satoru said, running after him, “It’s not my fault!”

“No no no, it is! Blame your useless puppy-dog not-quite-boyfriend who doesn’t have the balls to ask you to be his boyfriend!” Shoko said, running after the both of them.

Suguru took off, his face coloring.

“S-Suguru! Suguru, wait!” Satoru shouted from behind him, “Shoko, you piece of shit!”

Her laughs only grew more manic. Suguru summoned his manta ray and flew up into the sky, curse sensors be damned. A heavy weight crashed into his side, nearly tipping him over.

“Satoru!” He scolded, his voice cracking as an arm wrapped around his waist. Satoru rested his chin on his shoulder and his heart was racing because he was running earlier and for no other reason.

“Hold on, fly a little lower so I can grab Shoko,” Satoru mumbled. They drifted closer to the ground and Shoko flew up into the air and crashed onto Suguru’s lap.

“Wow, what if I’m not wearing any pants?” Shoko wheezed.

Suguru helped her sit up as Satoru snipped, “Who wants to see what’s under there, anyway.”

“Utahime,” Suguru said, and he and Satoru burst out laughing.

“Keep laughing and see if I don’t poison your next meal,” Shoko said, though she sounded like she was trying not to laugh as well.

“Suguru~ take me with you before Shoko kills me~” Satoru whined, nuzzling his face into his neck. His face warmed.

“Play nice, you two,” he said.

“Ugh, you hear that mom-voice come out? He’s had Mimiko and Nanako for like two months and he’s already got it down,” Shoko teased.

“Mmm, that’s because Suguru’s a great—ow, Suguru?! I didn’t even say anything?!” Satoru complained.

“I can tell when you’re going to say shit,” Suguru said, “And I’m taking us back down before Yaga starts wondering where we’ve gone.”

“Ughhhhhh, okay mommmmm,” Shoko sighed dramatically.

“Wait, can we do one last flight through the sky?” Satoru asked, “Like, a really really fast flight with all the loops and dives?”

“I’m leaving, not dying—this won’t be the last time,” Suguru scowled, but the manta started accelerating anyway. Shoko’s hands immediately grabbed onto his arms and wrapped them around her.

“Don’t let me fall,” she threatened, and whatever else she said was drowned out by the wind.

They raced through the sky without a care in the world, eager screams flying from their lips. The sky was a cheery pastel blue decorated with a few fluffy clouds. It was warm, the sun beamed down on them and blessed their transition into a new part of life. Even the racing wind felt sweet against his cheeks. It all felt like home.

∙⋆☯︎⋆∙

Fin