an0nymousmessenger

[an0nymousmessenger]

The Scientific Method of Falling

Senku doesn’t dance—so naturally, you pull him onto the floor.

senku ishigami x reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: University au.

“Come on, Senku. One dance. ”  

You dangle the challenge between your fingers, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

The event was loud. 

Overdressed students swayed under dim lights, champagne-colored drapes lining the walls of the student lounge. A room that was buzzing with energy with half the engineering department squeezed into the space, music humming beneath the chatter.

Off to the side, near the speakers, Gen lounges with the easy grace of a cat who’s just stirred up trouble. Chrome bounces on the balls of his feet, clearly excited, while Kohaku looks on with arms crossed, already grinning like she knows how this ends.

Senku, standing beside you, arms crossed, raises a brow. “Dancing is a primitive form of nonverbal communication. There is no logical reason for me to—”  

“Oh?” you interrupt, stepping slightly closer, stepping into his space. Your hands lace behind your back in mock innocence. “So you’re saying you can’t do it?”

There’s a pause.

A flicker of something sharp passes through his expression. “That’s not what I said,” he replies coolly.

You press in, just a fraction more. “Then prove it.” A slow, daring smile spreads across your lips. “Unless... you’re scared?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you know you’ve won.

He exhales through his nose, something close to a scoff. There’s no real irritation in it, but the spark has caught.

“Scared?” he repeats under his breath, more to himself than to you. As if the hypothesis were so absurd it didn’t even deserve peer review. With one last glance at the expectant group, he places his drink down with a clink. “Fine.”

A whoop rises from your mutual friends. Gen pumps a fist like he’s just watched a domino fall exactly as predicted. Kohaku slaps him on the back, muttering something about being owed a soda. Someone not-so-subtly turns the music up, the bass rolling deeper now, setting the tempo. Before before Senku can reconsider, you are already grabbing his sleeve, eyes glinting with something mischievous as your fingers slide into his.

As you lead him onto the dance floor, hands clasped, you can’t help but notice an insignificant detail.  

His hands are warm and calloused, a sign of experiments and late nights in the lab. He hesitates as he places one hand on your waist, like he’s running calculations, trying to solve a problem that refuses to fit into neat equations.  

“Relax, Senku,” you murmur, leaning in just enough to be heard over the music. “It’s just one song.”

“Tch. It is if you don’t want to end up in the ER with a broken toe.”

“Oh? Are you implying you’d mess up?”

His grip on your waist tightens imperceptibly, jaw ticking.

“Hah. As if,” he mutters, gaze flicking down briefly to your feet.

And then the music starts.  

He doesn't stumble. He won't.

You met his gaze, tilting your head.

It was almost amusing—how he moved with practiced ease, as if understanding the mechanics of something was enough to perfect it.

You lead—just slightly—knowing he’ll catch on. However, halfway through, he does something unexpected.

He pulls you off balance.

Not a mistake. A test.   

Your breath catches, and his grip tightens just before you stumble, a split-second smirk flickering across his lips. “See?” he murmurs, voice low. “Now, who’s struggling with basic physics?”  

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, mock-scandalized. “That was dirty.”  

“Just data collection,” he replies without missing a beat.

You exhale a laugh, rolling your eyes.

You drag him along with the music, keeping the tempo constant in your mind as you count.

The thing about dancing with Senku is that it isn’t dancing at all.  

It’s a battle.  

A war of subtle footwork, unspoken challenges, and just enough smugness to make you want to wipe that sharp-edged smirk off his face.  

“Admit it,” he muses, as you try to regain your footing after his last maneuver. “You underestimated me.”  

You scoff, feigning composure as you tighten your grip on his hand. “Hardly. You’re just applying kinematics to a social setting.”  

You twist, attempting to catch him off guard, off his axis, but his reflexes are too quick, his weight shifting smoothly. He lets you take control for just a second before countering with an effortless pivot, keeping you exactly where he wants.  

Somewhere in the background, Gen is cackling.  

“Did you just—” You squint at him. “Did you just redirect my center of mass?”  

Senku tilts his head, feigning innocence. “What, am I not allowed to optimize movement efficiency?”  

The absolute nerve.  

The small crowd around you is thoroughly entertained, half of them cheering for you to win, the other half placing silent bets on Senku. Chrome leans toward Kohaku. “This is the nerdiest fight I’ve ever seen.”  

Kohaku smirks. “Yeah, but it’s good .”  

You decide to go for the kill.  

You abruptly switch tempo, guiding Senku into a dip. It’s bold, a complete power move, and—  

Oh.  

For the first time tonight, he stumbles.  

His balance wavers for half a second before his grip tightens, fingers pressing into your waist as he recovers. His eyes flicker , realization dawning.  

You just managed to one-up him.  

The split second of speechlessness is golden.  

“Checkmate,” you murmur, the satisfaction laced through every syllable, unable to hide the victorious glint in your eyes.  

Senku exhales through his nose, lips curling. “Not bad.”  

And then, in an act of absolute pettiness , he does something you don’t expect.  

He drops his weight just enough to make you lose your balance too —forcing you to grip his shoulders as he steadies you. The closeness is sudden, the air charged.  

Your breath catches.  

Senku’s eyes narrow like he’s just as caught off guard by the proximity as you are.  

From the sidelines, Gen whistles.  

“Now that’s a stalemate if I’ve ever seen one.”

.✦

The song ends, but the tension lingers.  

Senku’s breath is still even, his fingers still lightly pressed against your waist, like he hasn’t fully decided whether to step back or commit to whatever this battle-turned-dance-turned-moment has become.  

You, on the other hand, are very aware of the dozens of eyes on you.  

Gen’s smirk is insufferable .  

Kohaku crosses her arms, watching with mild amusement. Chrome looks torn between awe and confusion, and Ukyo, ever the composed observer, merely raises a brow.  

You clear your throat and pull back. “Well, that was—”  

Senku straightens, rolling his shoulders like nothing happened. “A physics experiment.”  

You blink. “Come again?”

He gestures vaguely. “Kinematics. Inertia. Angular momentum. All pretty textbook, if you ignore the ridiculous tempo.”

Of course. This man weaponizes physics to avoid addressing anything remotely sentimental.  

Gen leans in, far too amused. “Oh, so you call that physics? Because from here, it looked like something else entirely, Senku-chan~” 

Senku ignores him.  

You don’t.  

You arch a brow and fire back at Gen, “What, were you expecting a rose-petal confession mid-spin? Should I have lifted him? Maybe thrown in a violin solo for dramatic effect?”

Gen’s grin widens. “Please do. All in the name of scientific inquiry, of course.”

Senku clicks his tongue, already striding away like he hasn’t just fled a war zone dressed as a waltz. “Tch. You’re all hopeless.”

You shake your head, half-laughing as you follow, matching his stride effortlessly.  

Behind you, the rest of the group begins to scatter. Kohaku goes to find another glass of punch, Gen starts recounting the scene to anyone who’ll listen (with at least three embellished versions already in circulation), and Chrome is halfway through sketching out the “dance physics” in his personal journal that he always carries around.

.✦

The taxi smells faintly of worn leather and a trace of synthetic pine—probably one of those dangling tree-shaped air fresheners that’s long since lost the battle. Outside, the city pulses quietly in the late hours—streetlights casting lazy golden halos, occasional headlights slicing through the dark, and the echo of other students laughing their way home from the same event.

Senku sits beside you, jacket discarded and tossed somewhere to the side. His shirt sleeves are slightly creased from the night, his tie half-undone and hanging askew around his collar. He still manages that effortless kind of sharpness—like even exhaustion can’t fully dull him—but there’s a tell in the way his posture slouches just a little, and in how his eyes blink slower now, his exhaustion is showing.   

You lean your temple against the cool window, the hum of alcohol softening the world, making the lights smear just slightly. Everything feels warm and quiet and a little unreal.

“Still analyzing the physics of the dance floor?” you tease, eyes flicking toward him. 

Senku huffs, amused. “I already did that. The conclusion? Unstable flooring and questionable music choices.”  

You laugh—half because it's funny, half because it's so typically him-and the taxi driver glances at you two through the rearview mirror, probably used to ferrying students like this—half-dressed down from an event, running on leftover adrenaline and lingering amusement.  

Silence slips in again, not awkward—just... still. Comfortable.

And then you feel it—light pressure against your wrist.

Senku’s touch is absentminded, his thumb grazing your pulse like he's measuring something. Not quite looking at you, not pulling away either.   

Senku’s fingers, cool and steady, brush your skin. His thumb presses just barely over your pulse point, casual but deliberate, like he’s not really thinking about it and also thinking entirely too much.

You raise an eyebrow without lifting your head. “Taking vitals now?”

“Tch.” He rolls his eyes, but his hand doesn’t move. “You’re tipsy.”

“So?” You draw the word out, playfully.

His head tilts back against the seat, eyes tracking something invisible across the ceiling. “So I’m making sure you don’t pass out in the middle of a taxi ride. Do you have any idea how much bodily fluid the average cab sees in a week?”

You blink. “That’s not comforting.”

“Exactly.”

But his thumb is still moving—slow circles, a mechanical repetition that betrays the edge of something he won’t admit to out loud.

You smirk, just a little. “And what happens if I do pass out?”

Senku glances at you sidelong, face deadpan. “I leave you in the lobby. Natural selection can handle it from there.”

You snort. “Liar.”  

Senku doesn’t argue.  

(And his fingers are still resting against your wrist, tracing idle, thoughtless patterns on your skin.)  

By the time the taxi slows to a stop, the air outside bites at your skin—crisp and quiet, with just a hint of leftover spring chill.

You step out and immediately wobble in your shoes, misjudging the pavement slope. Senku’s hand catches your elbow before you can tilt too far.

“Still think I’m not gonna pass out?” you mutter.

“You’re not,” he replies flatly. “If you were, you wouldn’t be asking that.”

You side-eye him. "Are you sure? Because I feel like if I pass out now, you're the one who's gonna be stuck carrying me."  

Senku clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Nope. That’s what the laws of physics are for. If you collapse, I’ll use leverage to prop you against a bench and let gravity do its thing."  

"Wow," you deadpan . "Romantic."  

He smirks. "Isn't it?"  

You shake your head, but his grip lingers, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress as he adjusts his hold, making sure you don’t slip.  

The dormitory steps feel steeper than usual, and the overhead lamp flickers as you both pause at the entrance.  

Senku exhales slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Go sleep off your bad life choices. I’ve got three pages of pseudoscientific theories to transcribe from people who think drinking cranberry juice makes them impervious to embarrassment.”

You turn around, laughing. “Can’t wait to see that published in Nature.”

“Nature wouldn’t take it. Scientific Reports, maybe.”

You roll your eyes, and he turns to leave—  

But before he can take another step, you reach up, fingers brushing against the loose tie around his neck, straightening it slightly.  

Senku stills.  

Your touch is brief, quick, but it’s enough to make him pause, the flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression.  

"Goodnight, Senku," you murmur.  

And then, before he can come up with a snarky response—  

You disappear into your dorm, leaving him standing there, tie still slightly undone, eyes trailing after you.  

He stands there, staring for a second too long.

His hand rises to adjust the tie again—but it doesn’t need adjusting.

He just exhales, running a hand through his hair.  

Maybe tonight’s data collection is going to take longer than expected.

.✦

The Engineering Department is still talking about it the next morning.

Word travels fast when you pack a dance floor with half the student body and manage to derail an otherwise formulaic academic gala with a spontaneous display of questionable rhythm and high-level physics.

Apparently, someone caught the entire thing on video. The clip made it to the university subreddit overnight, and by sunrise, the aerospace students were already deep in debate, and now half the aerospace students are debating whether Senku pulled off a kinetically optimized waltz or whether he was actually flustered for once in his life.  

(You neither confirm nor deny either theory. That’s above your pay grade.)

In the physics department, someone—probably one of the grad students with too much free time and a dark sense of humor—has relabeled the video under the title:

"The Mad Scientist and Their Archive—A Study in Applied Dynamics."  

Senku pretends not to care.

He doesn’t comment, doesn’t like or repost it, doesn’t even scowl when people bring it up. He just shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets and walks a little faster between lectures.

But when Ryusui sends him the video with a dramatic, “So, is this your future co-pilot or your future spouse?” Senku immediately blocks him across all platforms.

Not muted. Blocked.

(It’s probably not the first time.)

Meanwhile, you?  

You find it hilarious. The video’s funny. The rumors are funnier. And watching Senku try to navigate viral fame like it's a malfunctioning centrifuge is, frankly, the highlight of your morning.

“Department royalty,” Gen drawls, nudging your elbow as you wait in line at the campus café. “You’re both basically campus legends now. Someone drew fan art of you with a lab coat and a cape.”

You snort into your coffee lid. “Please. That implies we care about popularity.”

Gen’s eyes glint with mischief over the rim of his cup. “No, but Senku cares about one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, already skeptical. “Which is?”

Gen only smiles—sharp and knowing—and turns on his heel, walking away like he’s just dropped the punchline of a joke only he understands.

You’re left standing there, coffee in hand, watching him go with a sigh that’s mostly exasperation and just a little bit curiosity.

You don’t press further.

But maybe, just maybe, you'll keep that video saved in a private folder. For data collection, obviously. Purely academic.

Probably.

[an0nymousmessenger]

When the Sun Rises Again

Five Hargreeves x Reader Synopsis: In which you see a familiar boy with a mannequin at a park after saving the world. Word Count: 2.7k tags. Fluff, Comfort, s4 epilogue continued, more than friends less than lovers A/n: A little continuation of the epilogue of when you see Delores in the end credits with an unidentified person ao3 link

On August 8, 2024, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. It would be no exaggeration to say that this day was completely normal. The sun was shining, and the weather was the best it had been in a long time.

The wind blew gently, rustling the nearby trees and bushes in this small sanctuary.

It was a nice afternoon in August, perfect for people enjoying their outings at a small, lesser-known park. Picnics dotted the grassy areas, and people strolled together, enjoying each other's company.

Laughter filled the air as children chased each other in a harmless game of tag. A couple walked their dog, deep in conversation. Nearby, a man led a meditation session among a group, while a woman sat with her daughter, braiding her hair.

The moment seemed fragile and almost unreal, at least to the eyes of the newcomer. It was a tranquility you weren’t quite used to, and you found yourself struggling to take it all in. Still, you continued forward, focused on one main objective.

You passed the meditating group, the mother and daughter, and many other familiar faces you didn't dare acknowledge. Everything seemed to slow, as if memories from a past time were beginning to overlap.

In the midst of all this, by a rather old but beautiful tree, a few gentle marigolds grew from within the ground, sprouting out enchantingly, showing off their petals to the world. They shined golden, and perhaps with a little magic too.

You took your hands in the pockets of your light jacket as you walked casually with your new sneakers through the grass.

Eventually, you stopped in your tracks, and stared at a specific pair, glowing in the summer’s light. You hesitated, your breath caught up in your throat as some unfamiliar feeling began to bubble in your chest, threatening to overspill.

You wondered if it would be okay to disturb them, questioning whether you should just stay still and take in the scene a little longer. Just for a while. After all, time was on your side this time.

You squinted, fighting against the bright summer glare.

You looked onward, afraid that if you closed your eyes even for a second, the scene in front of you would disappear—that the feeling of the wind and sun had been just your imagination. That the boy sitting there with a gentle expression, one you’d only seen a few times in your life, would vanish with the wind. Fleeting, and brief.

As if he were never there.

A sweet but deceiving dream.

Even if it were a dream, you would be satisfied because, to you, everything was fine. Everything was as it should be.

But alas, the tangy summer scent was real, and the reality you were currently walking through was undeniably real.

So incredibly real.

It was terrifying.

The sun’s warmth shone generously on the pair—a boy who seemed to be in his teens, accompanied by a rather unique mannequin that only had its upper body. They sat at a plain table, enjoying each other’s company.

The boy held a newspaper in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. Another cup sat by an empty seat, while the mannequin rested by a nearby tree.

At first glance, it almost seemed as if the two were having a pleasant conversation. The boy looked relieved, his shoulders relaxed, legs crossed in comfort as his dark eyes browsed the weekly news.

It seemed as if he had no worries on his mind, no stress or problems weighing on him. Although his eyes still carried that tired look. It was a look not commonly found in the kids his age. Some would even go on to suggest his eyes give off the feeling the boy was much older than he let on.

But even if that were true, they had nothing to prove such a statement.

You took in this sight with a little sigh, a mental click, as if forcing yourself to capture this moment and lock it away in your heart, hiding it carefully from the world before anything else tried to take it away.

Just in case.

Just for safe measure.

You looked around again before making your way toward the empty seat opposite the newspaper-reading boy. He wore a plain white collared shirt, the top buttons undone, paired with simple dark shorts, giving him a youthful yet old-fashioned look.

As you approached, the boy noticed you and looked up, raising a questioning brow, which greatly amused you.

You gave a small smile before asking in a rather level voice, “Is anyone sitting here?”

“Well, it’s not exactly occupied, now is it?”

A familiar tone of dryness, tinted with a grain of sarcasm, dripped from the boy’s reply.

Your smile grew as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and gestured toward the seat. “Then do you mind?”

The boy, usually armed with harsh and sharp remarks, shook his head.

You sat down and picked up the cup, noticing that it contained your favorite drink, as if the boy in front of you knew something you didn’t. As if he had almost expected you to come and find him.

You brought the cup to your mouth, took a sip, then another, before gingerly setting it down back upon the table, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. Then, you took another look around.

This time, your attention was mainly on the boy in front of you, who seemed a little out of place in such a peaceful setting. The wind gently tousled his hair and rustled his shirt, causing him to clutch the newspaper a little tighter, pretending to be uninterested.

You decided to also pretend you didn’t notice his occasional glances toward you. You pretended you didn’t notice the searching look in his eyes, a habit he tended to have when he hadn’t seen you in a while. A habit of his that you would keep to yourself, hidden away from the dangers of the world.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

The boy sighed, looking away while taking a sip of his black coffee. “If you say so.”

You leaned against the table, one arm supporting one side of your face as you put on what he dubbed your ‘shit-eating grin’. “Why don’t you play with the kids over there? You know, kids your age.”

With a sharp, unamused glare, he responded, "I'd rather chew on concrete," his voice flat and unamused.

You huffed in your seat. “Somehow, even on such a nice day, you still manage to make it old and boring.”

"Maybe if you raised your standards, you’d actually appreciate reading the newspaper and having a simple drink while at it. But I won’t hold my breath."

“Prick.”

“Amateur.”

You sat up, narrowing your eyes. “Hey, says the one who looks like a–”

“One more word and I’ll have you up in that tree over there.”

“...”

You smirked, leaning in. “As if you could stand being apart from my charming company.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Aren’t we full of ourselves today?”

“What? Can’t I enjoy myself on such a lovely morning?”

He scoffed, glancing away from your teasing expression, and mumbled under his breath, “I suppose some people have to.”

You look at the boy, the way he was looking away from you as the tips of his ears turn a slight red. You twirl the cup in your hands that contains your preferred drink, the one you usually order when out and about, and can’t help but think to yourself:

What a liar.

Though, you guess you’ll cut the boy some slack, he after all has worked quite hard for way too many years to count. You’ll let him have this one, just this one.

And so, instead of teasing him anymore, you rest your hand on your elbows and stare at the scenery of the park, soaking in his presence and the fact that he is finally here with you.

He was here safe and sound.

Ah. You suppose you were both liars.

“You're doing it again,” spoke the boy out of the blue.

You turned towards him with a cheeky smile, “What exactly am I doing?”

“That ridiculous face.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue, “Bleh,”

He gave you a disgusted look as if he couldn’t believe you’d done something so childish, but you couldn’t care less. After everything you’d both been through, you deserved to indulge in such small matters.

Certainly, it was not the end of the world, was it?

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “I can’t believe I somehow have to put up with you…”

And yet, he made no attempt to move. Instead, he seemed to settle even more comfortably into his park chair.

You paused for a moment, taking in his ‘I’m seriously done with you’ expression before adding, “Yeah, and I’m a grumpy teenager who’s emotionally constipated in apparently every timeline.”

The boy shot you an unamused glare. “I'm not.”

"Yeah, you are."

"Idiot."

His retort was lacking in bite, something you’d come to recognize as his way of showing that he couldn’t find anything harsher to say.

“Fine! Then ask her,” you said, pointing at the mannequin beside him.

The boy let out an exasperated sigh, clearly used to your antics, before turning toward the object of your pointing.

“Delores doesn’t think so.”

"Oh yeah? Is that what she really said?"

He put on a sly grin. "Why don't you ask her yourself and find out?"

You turned toward the mannequin, playing along. "Has he been mistreating you while I've been away?"

He took a sharp breath, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "How dare you insinuate such an outrageous—"

“Oh, you’ll live,” you muttered as you took another sip from the cup.

“Prick.”

“Ass.”

“Annoying.”

“...”

You and he shared a small staring contest before you broke into a fit of laughter. The childish insults hadn’t been lost on either of you despite the years. Even with his usual sharp and witty remarks, it seemed that your banter had devolved into a playful exchange, bringing you both back to simpler times.

He looked at you with an exasperated expression, but couldn’t hide the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.

But of course, you were unable to see this, too caught up in your own little laugh. This also caused you to miss the way he had briefly looked at you, as if he too were saving this moment in his mind, causing his usually sharp persona to soften, if only slightly. He’d never admit it, not in a hundred years.

The laughter died down, and you noticed the silence that settled over you. You looked up at the boy, finding him already looking at you. A comfortable silence enveloped the three of you, including the mannequin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft smile.

And he looked at your smile, one that he would never tell you that it made him want to look away as a burning feeling crept up his ears. He’ll never tell you he noticed the light in your eyes as you did so, the way your eyes looked at him made him feel some sort of way. He’ll never tell you it was that smile, along with everything else, that had him crawling through time to get back to you, to see it again.

To see you and his family again, alive and well.

He’ll never tell you that he missed that smile, and he often wondered when he would see it again. He would never tell you that he had gone to your favorite coffee shop and bought two drinks instead of one, he’ll never tell you he had been sitting here all morning, waiting.

Instead, you two simply shared the silence in the distance.

Perhaps at another time, you would do something about this silence, you would reach out, and touch upon all the things you two were too afraid to say.

Perhaps one day, this silence would allow the two of you to be vulnerable without hesitation and caution. And perhaps one day, you’ll be able to reach over to take and take his hand in yours, to invite him to dance with you in the late of night or rain. You’ll both wear a smile, perhaps a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless, and you’ll both be listening to the best 90s bangers of the ages on an old record player.

But at least for today, the two of you will take your time.

Because today, you’d enjoy each other’s presence and the trivial banter. After all, you had all the time in the world.

It had been a while since you last bickered with the boy, much less joked and laughed. It was nice. 

Really nice.

Was it sad to say that this was all you ever wanted? To sit down, share a drink, and talk about useless and stupid things? That you wouldn’t trade this for the world, that you would fight to keep this moment in your hands.

The boy looked back at you before straightening his newspaper, effectively regaining your attention.

“Stop zoning out.”

“My bad.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of how he didn’t go through all that shit just for you to start staring into space and feeling sad or whatnot.

Your foot brushed against his for a brief moment. At first, you meant to pull it back, but instead, you left it there to gauge his reaction. He didn’t move his foot away, and you couldn’t tell if he was ignoring it or deliberately letting it stay there.

You stare at him, silently, before a question tumbles its way from your mind and to your lips, “Are you happy?”

The question lingered in the air between the two of you, like an untouched subject that none of you had dared to ask in the past. It was out of reach back then, and there had been much more pressing things to be worrying about.

And maybe, just maybe, that between you and him, one of these days you can truly rest. It’ll be a day just like today, and the distance between the two of you will be like a distant memory, and you can once again lean on him, as you had always done, and he can melt into you, as he had once done before.

The boy looked away from you and into the distance, observing the lively park as the sun enveloped him in the warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Nothing was out of the ordinary—if you didn’t count the teenage-looking boy drinking coffee with his mannequin and the newspaper he was reading in the middle of a park.

He looked down and smiled, the sun gently caressing his features as a genuine smile graced his face, but of course, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t try to hide it as he answered in a soft uncharacteristic voice, “Yeah…yeah I am.”

You looked at him, seeing the way he was trying to hide his emotions, and rolled your eyes. It seemed no matter the time or place, he was still the same, and for that, you couldn’t have asked for more.

Perhaps, in a way, this meant the future was bright. That a time would come when this tranquility, so unfamiliar now, would become all you know. Even if today was just the beginning.

You took another sip from the cup and smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Extra.

"Hey, you should tell me where you got these drinks."

"What now?"

He rolled his eyes, feigning uninterest.

"Seriously! I know you bought these for me."

He continued flipping through the pages of the newspapers.

"Oh, did I? And what if I said they’re for Delores?"

You held up the drink.

"Delores prefers lattes, not this."

"Does she? How fascinating."

"Prick!"

He set the newspaper aside and gave you an amused look.

“Fine. I’ll take you there next time. Happy now?”

You don’t point out that this was his way of admitting he did buy the drinks with you in mind, but you’re too content to press the issue. You decided to let him off the hook... again.

[an0nymousmessenger]

Next Time We Meet

Synopsis: To go North or South? tags. fluff, angst, gn!reader Word Count: 1.9k Ao3 Link

“Yo.”

“Gah!”

Geto laughs, his voice deep and rich as he watches Gojo choke on air, “How rude, and right after seeing me.”

Gojo shoots Geto a look that says 'Really? This is how you greet me after so long?' and slumps back in the airport seat, spreading out without any regard for personal space. He frowns, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. "No way. Could things get any worse?"

You snort from the other side of where Gojo sits, legs crossed, supporting your face with your hand. "C'mon, is seeing your old friends again really that disappointing?"

Gojo flinched at your sudden voice, his laidback body language suddenly tense.

It was as if he couldn’t believe you were here. Whole and well.

You notice, and tilt your head while asking in a teasing voice, “Hm~? What’s wrong?”

However, he recovered quickly, answering only a beat late in his whiny voice that it was hard to wonder if it ever happened at all, “You don’t get it!”

“Does it matter anyway?” Geto asks.

Gojo complains, "I told one of my students that when you die, you die alone! Now I seem like a liar!"

You laugh at how despite waking up in another place with his old friends, the only thing on his mind at the moment was something he told his students in passing, and that his only concern was how it made him look bad.

At the sound of your laughter, Gojo finally turns his head to look at you. You were so busy laughing at Gojo’s suffering that you missed the way his blue pupils seemed to shake as he soaked in the sound of your laugh, and the subtle trembling of his lips so faint it was barely noticeable.

“You speak as if you aren’t one,” You manage between fits of laughter.

He crosses his arms and pouts. "I've told you before! I'm an honest man! Isn't that right, Suguru?" 

Geto, however, only shakes his head while laughing softly.

You smile, thinking to yourself that you really have missed this. It was nice. It was warm.

“And there's the matter of his father," Gojo continues, "but I've already asked Shoko to handle that."

"Poor Shoko, you make her go through too much," Your voice is full of sympathy for your mutual friend.

Gojo dismisses your concerns with a wave. "It's Shoko; she's strong."

Still, you wonder if she's okay.

"So, how was the King of Curses?" Geto inquires, hands in the pockets of his school uniform.

Gojo waves his hand, “Man, he was crazy strong! Plus, he didn’t even go all out.”

You saw, after all, you and everyone here was watching him.

“Stronger than you?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with your brows raised, wondering if fighting the king of curses was the solution to flattening his inflated ego.

Gojo became silent.

His face seems to suddenly fall, as if in deep contemplation.

You meant it as a joke, a jab at how in his youth, he only flaunted his power and never experienced loss. You didn't intend to upset him.

"Told you, it's because I'm the strongest."

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation rise as you retort, "Cheater."

He grins, adjusting his glasses while examining your battered state. His pristine school uniform remains untouched with not even a blade of grass. You on the other hand are covered in sweat and dirt.

"Am I?"

"The worst."

He feigns hurt, hand over his heart. "You wound me."

You vow never to spar with him again.

Before you can address your earlier remark, he answers in a soft, uncharacteristic tone: "If you and Suguru were there, I think I could've won."

You had forgotten, you think to yourself. Forgotten that at the end of the day, he was only one man. And that at one point he had only been a boy, a boy who had the world thrust upon him.

And so, with this in mind, you give him one of your best smiles, “We’re always cheering you on, Satoru.”

Gojo seemed to want to say something to you then, but then he seemingly decided against it. Instead, he points out, “I’m just glad I didn’t die of old age or illness, but rather because of someone strong.”

You don’t miss the way he started avoiding eye contact with you, nor the red creeping up his neck.

It was then that Nanami cuts in, “No one thinks like that. Nowadays that’s creepy.”

“Huh!?”

Gojo turns around to roughly ruffle Nanami’s hair, a scene that was a bit too nostalgic for your liking, but all the same, you couldn’t help but want the moment to last longer. Hearing Gojo whine as Nanami scolded him, but Geto smiling in the background and Haibara’s cheerful voice was something you didn’t think you would witness again. 

Just you guys, back in the prime of your youth laughing underneath the summer sun.

Just a little longer, you silently plead, just a little longer.

But time is short.

You listen silently as Nanami and Gojo’s conversation warps up, and it is only then that you decide to finally speak up.

“So, have you decided?”

Gojo turns to look at you, “What do you mean?”

You smile, “Your decision. To go north or to go south.”

He stares at you for a long time before finally breaking out into a grin, “What? Did you get sick of my presence already? I only just got here!”

Rolling your eyes as you fight back your amusement, you remind him, “You don’t have much time, you know? You in a place where you can still–”

"Yes, yes, I know," he interrupts with a pout.

You sometimes can't believe his audacity, wondering how you had managed it through Jujustu Tech. Here he was, acting upset when you're trying to save his life.

Bringing a hand up to your head, you sigh, feeling a type of headache that you only get when he is around coming up.

“Can’t I stay a little longer?” He asks, this time his voice betrays the feeling he had been hiding behind that carefully crafted mask of his. It sounded of longing, sprouted from the fear of losing everything he had again.

It was Geto who answered him this time, "It's your choice, Satoru," his voice gentle. "But I think we all knew the decision you'd make the moment you woke up here. In fact, you've already made up your mind, haven't you?"

Gojo fell silent because he knew Geto was right. Geto always understood him well.

It was because Gojo still had unfinished business.

He still needed to live.

You stood up and walked over to Gojo, offering him a hand. You knew he would stubbornly sit there until the last minute, and you'd had enough all-nighters to know that leaving things to the last second never worked out well.

He took your hand, and you pulled him to his feet.

“It’s not your time yet,” you say in a steady voice.

“At least tell me you are sad to see me go,” he grins, his opaque glasses blocking the top of his face, but you knew from the way he looked at you that the frown didn’t reach his eyes.

"We'll see each other again; waiting has never been an issue for me."

He rolled his eyes and frowned. "Is it really so hard to say you're going to miss me?"

You sighed. "Gojo—"

"Satoru."

"Satoru," you began again, giving him your famously tired look. But all he did was grin back. "I'll be looking forward to meeting you again, okay?"

He smiles a victorious kind of smile, as if him getting you to say you will miss him was a greater achievement than winning against the king of curses.

It was a kind of smile that told you that he’d steal this moment away for himself.

Selfish prick.

It was then that an announcement came on from seemly nowhere: We are now making boarding announcement for Flight 0010 to the final destination ‘—.’ Passengers are kindly requested to proceed to gate 06 for immediate boarding.

“I guess that’s your flight.” 

Your voice trembles.

A mishap in the wall that you built to suppress your emotions because without it you don’t think you could stand to watch him leave.

If that wall were to come crumbling down you think you would have clinged onto him, begging him to stay a little longer.

Gojo continues to look at you before seemly to make a final decision, “Hey, There’s something I–”

If this was the last time he'll see you again, to get to talk to you again then-

You shake your head, laughing silently to yourself as you start to push Gojo towards his gate.

“Hey- hey wait!”

You come to a sudden stop as Gojo stubbornly rooted himself to the tiled floor.

“Hurry. You will be late-”

Gojo grabs ahold of your hand, his black glasses falling to the tip of his nose, revealing his starking eyes. He stared at you, stared at you as he tried to tell you all the things he’d always been too much of a coward to say.

He wanted to tell you before it was too late like last time, something he has yet to forgive himself for.

“There’s something I haven’t told you yet. I need to tell you before I go-”

Stupid. Stupid white-haired man.

Your lips tremble as you look at his desperate face, his mask falling apart as well. But instead of clinging onto him like you so desperately want to, you smile.

"Tell me next time then."

Gojo stops stumbling over his words.

"I–"

Last call for Flight 0010–

"Go," you urge him.

Yet he still stands there stubbornly, refusing to leave.

Stupid Satoru.

What a greedy man, you think to yourself. The corners of your mouth curve upward as you stand on tiptoes and press a quick, soft kiss on his forehead.

"Go," you say again. "Tell me next time all the things you’ve yet to say to me, okay? Go and win for us...for me."

He brings a hand to the spot where you kissed him, a certain look crossing his face before finally saying the words you want to hear, "Okay, I will."

"Swear it."

"I swear on it."

And you believe him.

Because who are you to say otherwise in front of his grinning face? Who are you to think otherwise when he smiled so brightly? His eyes were bright and confident, softly grazed by his white hair as if he'd bring you the world if you asked.

Then he seemed to cast everyone one last glance before turning his feet to start running the other way towards his gate.

He doesn’t think he could stand to leave if he were to stop.

"Don't miss us too much!" Haibara calls out after him.

"Try not to die again," Nanami mutters.

"We'll still be here," Geto states.

“Don’t come back too soon! Okay!?” You shout to which he lifts an arm and waves, his neck a dark shade of red.

He laughs, “Just continue to cheer me on!”

You stand there, watching as the gate closes with Gojo behind it, listening to the loud hum of the air conditioning in the airport.

You'll wait, just like you've been doing. You'll wait as long as it takes for him.

a/n : I promise I'll write pure fluff next time ( maybe )

[an0nymousmessenger]

Boyfriend Gojo Headcannons

ft. Boyfriend Gojo Satoru tags. gn!reader, fluff

Boyfriend!Satoru is someone who would always fight with you to open the doors, even if it’s in your shared apartment. He would run ahead or block you from trying to open it by yourself. He says it’s his job as a boyfriend after constant bickering back and forth.

Boyfriend!Satoru would buy and store sweets around the apartment, sometimes even hiding them from you as you would sometimes complain about how it’s bad for him.

Boyfriend!Satoru is someone who would wake up in the middle of the night to brew tea for you if you couldn’t sleep without complaint. He would do it every night if it meant you’d feel better after drinking it.

Boyfriend!Satoru phone would be full of photos and videos of you, good and bad ones. He would have his Lock Screen be a photo of you looking your worst, insisting it’s the best photo of you.

Boyfriend!Satoru peppers you with soft gentle kisses at least a few times a day. 

Boyfriend!Satoru whose social media is just him showing you off.

Boyfriend!Satoru would cuddle you every night, (it’s a must he says) and would pull you closer if you try to escape. He would hold you tight as if you're the most precious and delicate thing in the world while mumbling sweet nothings into your ear to lull you to sleep. And on the days he’s away for work he would call you on FaceTime to fall asleep too.

Boyfriend!Satoru would chase you around with the bug you would ask him to kill before killing it.

Boyfriend!Satoru would purposely put on scary movies just for you to hold onto him tighter.

Boyfriend!Satoru who is ticklish but never turns on his infinity when you abuse this weakness.

Boyfriend!Satoru would always steal the covers. 

Boyfriend!Satoru who buys matching pairs of everything just so he can brag to everyone that he’s yours.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would ask to take a bite of your ice cream and proceed to inhale half of it.

Boyfriend!Satoru would be extra clingy to you when drunk, latching onto you as if it were his lifeline, slurring all his compliments and confessions about how much he’s in love with you, and how you got him wrapped around your finger.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would always stay up till midnight to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday.

Boyfriend!Satoru who insists on putting up the most extravagant Christmas tree to outshine your neighbors.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would cry when proposing to you. (And at the wedding)

a/n : Just something short and sweet (´ー｀)

[an0nymousmessenger]

For I'll Keep Every Promise

Synopsis: He wakes up. Word Count: 2.4k tags. fluff, angst, happy ending Sequel to 'A Thousand Wishes Unheard' note: I was going to post this later but I think you guys need it. Ao3 Link

Darkness. That was all he could see. He felt nothing– as if he was floating in a neverending void.

He was dead.

He had to be. He remembers the bitter taste of blood coating his mouth– the way he struggled and choked on the very thing that ran through his skin. He recalls the loud ringing in his ear, growing ever louder as his vision faded out.

Well, he supposed he tried his best. Really. He gave it his all.

It just wasn’t enough.

What remained of his heart ached. He supposed he wasn’t able to fulfill his promise to you. He hopes you won’t blame him…he had held on till the very end.

Death wasn’t so bad. Before he went he was able to see his students, laughing and smiling, he even got to hold you close before he had left. Not to mention he even saw his friends again, and he had gotten to say goodbye. 

He had no regrets.

Well…he supposes there is still one that lodges itself in the back of his mind.

It was you.

He had never gotten the chance to…

“Satoru,”

He turned his head to look at you, who was savoring your lollipop as you leaned back on the balcony.

Lemon flavored. The very sour kind.

He had a snide suspicion that it was to keep him away from stealing it…

“Satoruu~” you repeated, drawing his attention again.

“Hm?”

You flash him a smile, the kind of smile that lets him know that you are about to either stir up trouble or say something random.

It was the latter.

“What do you want to do when you're older?”

He snorts, “What kind of question is that? Of course– a sorcerer.” He wanted to add ‘what else?’ but decided it was obvious enough. Adding the last part would also ruin his good mood. His path has already been pre-designed and pre-routed for him. He has no other choice.

“No, what I mean is if all this didn’t exist.”

“Aw~ are you saying you would rather not have met me?” He sings out in a fake-pained voice, knowing that it was not what you meant.

You roll your eyes, having been used to his antics for a few years now, “Perhaps,” you say with a playful smile, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be better off.”

“Nah, I doubt it.”

You sigh before turning to face him. You widen your eyes when you notice he is already looking at you, but quickly move on, but Satoru doesn’t let the red creeping up on the tip of your ears go unnoticed. “I’m saying if you didn’t have cursed energy and stuff…like normal people, you know?”

He wanted to laugh and point out that it sounded like you were indicating that people like you and him were the odd ones, but he decided to let it slide.

“I dunno, maybe I’ll start a singing career, something like that.”

“Pfft, so what? That you’ll get even more admirers and fans?”

“Exactly! What? Don’t you agree? My face is pleasant to look at.”

Scoffing, you say, “One of these days I’ll make sure to crush that ego of yours.”

He rolls his eyes before looking back out at the school grounds, watching the sun slowly set behind the forest of trees. Although he had said the first thing that came from the top of his mind, he supposed singing wouldn’t be that far reached. 

After all, he excelled at everything. 

"How about you?" he asks. "Do you have something in mind already?" 

Observing the setting sun, you reply, "Mhm, yeah. Something like that." 

"Really?" He sounds surprised, not realizing how seriously you were considering it. "What is it?" 

Hesitating, you eventually respond, "It's... nothing." 

His interest is immediately piqued. 

"Come on! What's your idea? Share it with me!" He playfully pesters you with a grin. 

"No!" 

"You can't tease me like that! I told you mine, didn't I?" He whines a bit more before eventually coaxing it out of you.

It was when he saw you sigh, watching as the tension left your shoulders that he knew he won.

“Fine, I’ll tell you then. But you can’t tell anyone else– okay?”

He makes a gesture of zipping his mouth and throwing the zipper away, his curiosity increasing. It always does when it comes to you.

“I want to be…” you wait a bit, as if for dramatic effect, “...an author.”

You turn to look at him after a moment’s silence before breaking out in laughter.

“Haha- what’s up with your face? Surprised?”

Indeed he was a bit surprised. An author? He had no clue. When it comes to you it seemed as if he's only ever scratched the surface. It made him want to know more, want to ask more.

He never does.

"An author," he echoes thoughtfully.

"Yeah."

He wanted to ask why, but you had already started talking.

“An author. I guess it’s because I want to write stories, I grew up reading them you know? Made me feel safe.”

A hint of melancholy graces your smile as your thoughts drift elsewhere; it's a different kind of smile than the one before–a sadder smile.

"Who knows? I'm sure being a sorcerer has provided ample material for incredible stories. I'll be entirely unique. Maybe I'll even include tales about overcoming curses and how people like us save the day."

"Why not add in a ridiculously handsome guy who defeats all the curses with seamless ease too? Make sure 'remarkably attractive' is emphasized."

Laughing, you playfully smack his arm. "Okay, Satoru. I'll consider it."

He couldn’t help but break out into an amused smile. What an odd dream, he thought. Though he supposed he wasn’t against it.

Satoru Gojo excelled at everything, yet nothing he achieved seemed to measure up to you.

He felt his mind start to drift and fade away, threatening to join the other souls in their lost journey home. Wait…he called out. He didn’t want to go just yet. He wanted more time, more time to replay his memories, to live in them just for a second longer.

“Satoru,”

He could hear your voice, calling him in that familiar and recognizable way that was only special to you.

“Satoru.”

He wished he could’ve told you how much he loved hearing you say his name, it rolls off your tongue so nicely. He was never one to care about names, it never mattered to someone like him. 

All he needed was Gojo – a name denoting his status, lineage, and power. His first name barely held any weight compared to his clan's. No one needed to know who Satoru was, no one ever did…so he couldn’t have cared less for his name- and yet you somehow made him love his name– only when you say it does it sound special– like it’s his name like he is someone.

Someone other than the honored one. Someone other than the strongest.

“Satoru!”

There were a lot of things he never got to tell you, another thing to add to his regrets. If only he had been brave enough…if only he had picked up his courage and told you everything.

“Satoru- please!”

He paused. Ah- what is that feeling? He could feel something wet fall onto his face. Was it raining? How could that be? How could he feel if he was dead?

And yet that warmth around his face only made him more confused. He could feel as if someone was holding them, cupping his face carefully as if he could break.

"Please wake up… Satoru, I beg you…"

His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the sudden brightness.

The first thing he saw when his vision came back into focus was your face. Your crying face looking down at him with your hands cupping his face.

Then he looked around, realizing that the battlefield on which he had been sliced in half was gone. He was in a room, a hospital room.

He looked down and saw the rest of his body, no longer split into two. Had Shoko done this?

“Satoru!”

He returned his gaze to you. You were smiling, smiling, and crying.

Questions, so many questions flooded through him at that moment, but he decided that he could ask those later. Right now was more important, right now felt like it was all happening inside a dream.

“Hey…crybaby, seems like you you missed me?” He teased with a small grin.

You gave him a look through your tear-soaked face as if you couldn’t even believe what he was saying.

“Y-You! You bastard! You annoying– infuriating- stupid dumbass!”

“Aw, come on…” he drags, “You don’t mean those…do you hm?” Although the tone in his voice is light– playful even as if he hadn’t just returned from death, as if all he wanted right now was to live this moment to the fullest, he was dearly wishing this– whatever this was– to last a little longer.

He slowly brings his trembling arm to hold onto yours, he wanted to hold on to you tight, as if everything he was seeing was about to break, to fall apart for him to realize it was all a dream.

He waited for you to disappear, to return to the part of his imagination that was playing tricks on him.

Instead, you move sideways to hug him, crying onto his shoulders.

"No...no, I don't," you managed through choked sobs.

He hummed softly, "I guess I kept my promise after all, huh?"

You nod into his shoulder, still holding him tightly.

You and him fall into a comfortable silence, he lets you cry on his shoulders just as how you let him hold onto you. 

Several minutes passed before you pulled away, sniffling and attempting to compose yourself while wiping away tears with your sleeve.

Satoru wanted to reach out and wipe them for you, but his newly healed injuries did not allow him to, moving his hand had already been hard.

It went on like that for a while; you sniffling and crying as Satoru stared at you quietly, taking everything about you in as if this was the last time he was going to see you, just the same way he did on that night underneath the torii gate, using his eyes to try to imprint every detail, everything, every aspect of you into his memory.

That night felt like a lifetime away.

He was the first to break the silence, “Where are the others?”

By now you had calmed down, and were able to answer in a coherent way, “Recovering…everyone is- they’re fine.”

Fine. Not good, but fine.

He’ll take it for now.

“We managed to win and…” you give him a look, “you know…the students declared their victory for you,” You say with a smile.

His students. They managed to do it, just as he thought they could. He sighed contently.

You then spend the next half hour going over exactly what had happened after he had passed out, how Kashimo had come out right after him, and how eventually the rest of the students joined in.

In the end, they had managed to pull through, but it wasn’t over. Sukuna had been dealt with, Megumi’s condition was unknown, and Kenjaku was nowhere to be found.

Shoko had indeed been the one to heal him. Immediately after the battle they were able to recover his body and managed to heal him back together just in time.

“We- we almost- I didn’t know if we made it in time or not…” You say, choking up again. He could see the tears you were desperately trying to hold back, to look brave in front of him, trying to break through.

“Hey, I’m right here, aren’t I?” He beckons you to come closer.

He eventually holds you in his arms, drawing slow circles on your back, as he knows it calms you, “Shhh, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere else.”

You mutter, “Better not,” which causes him to laugh.

He wanted to let this moment drag on forever, just you in his arms, just you and him.

“This…this is real– right?” He says quietly, and in such a small voice he doubted you had heard him.

You raise your head to look at him, the soft kind of smile he’s always known playing on your face, “Yes, Satoru. This is real, as real as it can be.”

He can feel himself start to tear up, because if he had to be honest- he was scared too, he was terrified, but he had no choice. He had to play his role, his role as the strongest.

But now he could just be Satoru, just him holding onto you, keeping you close. 

“Then I’m glad.”

Bonus:

“Gojo Sensei!” Yuji, the always energetic kid exclaimed as he ran into the room, followed by You, Maki, Yuta, Nobara, Panda, Inanumaki, Shoko, and everyone else.

They all had recovered for the most part and seemed to be relatively okay. They all wore relieved expressions as they entered the room to see that their Sensei was alright.

Yuji was the first to arrive at his Sensei’s bedside.

“Hey, kid!” Gojo Sensei waved. He had recovered enough to prop himself up and do basic movements, which to Shoko had been a miracle itself.

Yuji then began launching himself into the things that had happened while Gojo had been recovering, and Gojo returned the energy. Everyone got their turn, talking until visiting times were over and they had to be ushered out.

You were the last to leave. Just before you turned the doorknob Satoru called after you, “Hey- wait.”

You turn around, waiting for what he wants to say.

“When- uh when this is all over and when you have some free time, let me take you out, yeah?”

You barely ever heard Satoru Gojo stumble over his words, and when he did you know it was because he was nervous, and everyone knows Satoru Gojo is never nervous, yet that always seemed to be the exception when it comes to you.

You found it cute, the way he would try to seem aloof as the back of his neck became a beautiful shade of bright red.

“Yeah, but let’s save that for when you recover.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be up and ready by next week,” he says as if it were a fact, his blue eyes seemed to shine even brighter.

You sigh, even after coming back on the brink of death he still acts like a child, but you smile nonetheless, “Next week it is then.”

[an0nymousmessenger]

A Thousand Wishes Unheard

Synopsis: You’ve always known there was a before Gojo Satoru, then there was during Gojo Satoru…you just never thought that one day there would be an after Gojo Satoru. Word Count: 9.06k tags. fluff, angst, hurt no comfort ( a little bit if you squint ) note: A bit rushed. The copium is real. Ao3 Link Part 2.

You’ve always known there was a before Gojo Satoru, then there was during Gojo Satoru…you just never thought that one day there would be an after Gojo Satoru.

You’ve always known Gojo Satoru. Who doesn’t? He was the strongest. He was the holder of the six eyes, master of limitless, the one that went against the King of Curses. He was your classmate. He was your friend. He was arrogant. He was condescending. He was loud. He was careful. He was kind. He was–

Gojo Satoru was a lot of things. Sometimes he was cocky, and other times he was annoying, and well– you suppose despite that, in the little crevices of your memories, he was…alright. As to you, he was just Satoru.

You remember the day you first met him, the memory was clear, and oh so very blue. You had walked past him underneath the school’s Torii gates, the one with many short stone pillars that lined up to the school. It had been a clear day, one of the clearest it had been during the season of summer.

He had been walking with Shoko and Suguru when you first made eye contact. You paid him little to no attention, too occupied with your hair not falling correctly in the right place. It was your first time attending Jujustu Tech and you were curious– excited, and a bit nervous.

You had been born with your clan’s technique, and thus here you were, sent off to attend a school to train and raise you to hone those abilities. Although the path here wasn’t easy, you still made it.

However, this story is for another time…This story…it wasn’t about you...well- it was sort of. It was mainly about him. The boy that you had walked past under the clear blue sky, not even noticing him properly. It was about the boy that you had no idea you would one day spend so much time with.

Little did you know after that short meeting under the stone gate that you would see him again not long after when you walked into your first class. He was leaning in his chair and about to fall off.

He really did fall off when you opened the door.

Back then you were both first years. Young, naive, and free. You would find yourself spending a lot of time with your new classmates, training, talking, going on missions, and small getaways.

Your secret little adventures away from the world of curses.

That summer was one that you couldn’t forget even if you tried.

It was one of the rare collections of memories that you held close, the one where you got to see a side of Gojo Satoru’s youth.

“Yo~!”

A loud and obnoxious voice came from behind, telling you exactly who had been the first one to arrive back at the beach.

Unfortunately for you, it just had to be the annoying white-haired teen of the group.

“Guess what!”

“...What?” You replied a bit late while letting out a long tired sigh. 

It had been a long day, and although a few moments before you had hoped the others would hurry it up, now you wished that you could have gotten a few more moments alone to spend watching the setting sun fall beneath the waves.

“Oh c’mon! Guess!”

You could already feel a headache coming up.

Just as you were about to turn your head around and give Satoru a wack on the back of his legs, hoping to trip him with your hand, he bent down to your eye level, meeting your deadpanned gaze.

He put on his iconic pouting face, “Can’t turn around, that’s cheating!”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused snort, “As if that’s above you.”

He grinned, “Are you suggesting I’m a cheater?”

“The very worst,” you nodded.

He did a dramatic fainting gesture to his heart while putting on his best look of surprise and betrayal before gasping aloud, “Me!? Cheat?”

He leaned backward, “How so? How could you think so low of m-“

He was about to continue his nonsensical rant but you had cut him short with a quick jap to his sides.

In the end, you had managed to figure out that he was the one who had brought the firecrackers. Of course, you thought. Though you weren’t exactly sure how he managed to come into possession of them. Satoru with firecrackers was like giving a baby a chainsaw.

Okay, maybe not that bad, but still– the image was still there.

Perhaps he had managed to slip by Suguru’s watchful gaze when they were unloading stuff from the van.

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you heard the sound of tearing.

Looking next to you to where the white-haired gremlin was, you saw that he was already opening the box of firecrackers.

“Not going to wait for Suguru and Shoko?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, It’s not like I’m going to burn through all of them, don’t worry about it!.”

You mutter something like ‘overgrown child’ under your breath as you watch him continue to tear and rip the package apart like a rabid animal.

Though, you knew it was because he was probably really ecstatic at the prospect of a little firework display at the tip of your fingertips. You could tell from the light in his eyes that shined brightly that you managed to glimpse from the side of his glasses.

You held back a laugh, remembering you and Suguru describing what a firecracker to Satoru was earlier when you suggested bringing them out when the sunset as you had packed them the night before.

The shock and look on his face was something that was hard to forget. Being from one of the three top clans he was spoiled, that was a given. But even with that, it came to you as a shock that he had never been able to play with a firecracker.

Though after some thought you thought it did make sense. The elders may have thought it was dangerous, and Satoru being the wielder of those rare eyes after a few hundred years…well it was self-explanatory when you put it like that.

Eventually, he managed to get two out. 

‘Like hell, he won’t burn through all of them before they get here,’ you mentally comment, but making no sound or move to stop him. You continue to keep your eye on him.

Just so he doesn’t commit arson– of course.

He held out the long stick before lighting the two of them with his lighter.

Instantly the firecracker came to life, bustling and crackling with little mini explosions. It lit up the surrounding area to a small degree now that the sun had set to some degree, illuminating Satoru’s smiling face. 

“Hello? Earth to his highness?” You ask with a light amused tone as you watch him, entranced by the mini light show.

Bringing him back to earth with your words and that nickname that you and Shoko would sometimes call him from how large his ego was, he tore his eyes away from the small firework display to finally look at you.

“Ah! Can’t forget this, can I?” Just as you were about to ask what he meant by that he suddenly offered you his other firecracker with a bright smile.

Satoru has always had a pretty smile. You had noticed that very soon into the time you got to know him. It was bright and contagious. His energy was contagious.

And that light somehow made that smile brighter, and possibly even more unearthly. Though you would never admit it aloud. 

A little taken aback, you held out your hand nonetheless and grabbed ahold of the firecracker he was passing to you.

Your hands brushed, if only barely before he retracted them, going back to stare at his own firecracker with that childlike amazement.

You sat there in confusion as you looked at him, unable to take your eyes away, your hands still outstretched, holding onto the firecracker.

It was only after the firecracker was almost ⅖ of the way done that you finally came to your senses and retracted your aching arm.

You brought the mini firework show closer to you, but not too close to get harmed. 

The tiny explosions were nice to pretty, you supposed.

You smiled. It was a small but noticeable smile. It was most likely then that you decided Satoru wasn’t so bad…not really, anyway. He was okay…you supposed.

Little did you know that that moment soon became one of your most hidden and treasured memories, kept away behind locked doors and secrets. A memory that you will always hold close, a priceless thing.

It was the first of many times that you wished that moment had lasted just a little longer.

You were too lost in your own thought that you failed to notice sometime later– before the firecrackers died and Shoko and Suguru had arrived and brought the snacks, and before talked late into the night underneath the watchful gaze of the stars while lighting more firecrackers, so many in fact, that someone had noticed them and kicked them out. 

Before they were all on the way back to Jujustu Tech in the van with Suguru driving and Shoko playing the music, as Satoru had his head against the window, occasionally bumping against the glass with a few bumps in the road, and with you tapping a soft tune as you looked out the window at the scenery.

Before all that, he– instead of staring at his firecracker, had instead focused his eyes on you at that moment.

It wasn’t anything drastic, but a slight tilt of the head, a slight breathless intake of breath. He focused, not on the mini lights to call for his attention, but on the way your hair flew with the slight breeze, your small but delicate smile that Satoru had sometimes caught you wearing. The small smile that showcased your dimples, the way your eyes softened as you looked at the tiny fireworks display in front of you.

The sun had almost completely set behind the raging waves, and with that allowed the light to softly hit your face, and to him…at that moment you seem to appear otherworldly.

Perhaps it was then that Satoru…

Whatever he wanted to say then was muffled out by the seaside wind.

Gojo Satoru was not always the strongest. Sure, he had been born with the limitless technique as well as the legendary six eyes, but despite that– there was a period where he was still Satoru. Just Satoru. Not some strongest sorcerer of the century or what-not. 

Yet ever since that day– that year– that summer. That blue spring changed everything. Ever since that day Gojo Satoru has been known as the strongest. It was official, there was no doubt. 

It was then that the line that you were now so familiar with was drawn between Gojo Satoru and others. Others such as you.

It was then that almost every moment after felt as if you weren’t really with Satoru, no…not really. Despite talking to him, hanging out with him, hell– even laughing with him…it felt as if something was missing.

As you weren’t really talking with Satoru. You were talking with Gojo Satoru. It was as if even though he was right next to you, when you reach out a hand he was suddenly miles and miles away.

Because that was who he was. Untouchable. The strongest.

Years past…just like that. Through those years you had grown into a fine sorcerer. You were capable, and strong in your own league. Grade 1, and later in your late 20s you would be promoted to semi-grade-1. 

You trained and trained; you wanted to forget, wanted to better yourself so that what happened that summer wouldn’t happen again. And so you eventually made it, you surpassed your limits and grew as a sorcerer, as a person, and eventually became an author in your off time. 

Before coming to Jujustu Tech you were always fond of writing. It was an escape and something that easily passed the time.

A few of your works even blew up, earning you a little extra cash. Not that you needed any, being a sorcerer provided you with enough income.

Though you still kept on writing. It wasn’t for the money, but for the story, you could create. 

Although you would never admit it, in many of your famous published works, the characters in your novels were often based on the people in your life.

Which is why you never brought it up.

It had little to do with the fact that one of your most popular and well-liked character who is loved by all of your readers being based on some annoying white-haired man. 

It had been an accident. Really!

But you were ready to shoot yourself if your friends ever found out.

Well…it wasn’t like that man, the person you prayed about every day for him to never come across that book, was likely to find out.

As the lot of you grew older and older you also grew distant.

Shoko became a doctor and was mostly too occupied in her laboratory at Jujustu Tech while Utahime, Nanami, who you were glad to rejoin the Jujustu World, and Gojo… were all busy with their missions halfway across the world. You were too, so it was only natural.

You made attempts to get them together again– just to hang out, like old times. But it almost never worked out, everyone was too busy…and on the off chances that a few of them managed to make time, Gojo was never there.

The strongest…that word felt bitter on your tongue. It felt like that was preventing you from seeing your friend again. A friend that you had missed.

Yet there were still those moments, those rare moments where you were able to cross that line and reach him– if only barely. Those little accidents where you manage to slip by.

You remember a few of them, but there was always one that stood out.

It had been a long time since that summer, but you remember finishing up a rather easy mission earlier than expected, so you decided to find a place to relax.

It was a few minutes later that you found yourself on top of one of the Jujustu Tech buildings, lying on the roof as you enjoyed the feeling of the sun against your skin.

Though your break was very short-lasted as you felt a presence, a very familiar presence, join you not a moment after. It had been quite a surprise, but all the same, a welcomed one.

Closing your eyes you breathed in the fall air. Autumn was here, and in your wholehearted opinion, the best season by far. The temperature was just right, not too cold nor hot, the leaves were turning beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow, and everywhere smelled pleasant.

You felt yourself relax as you pressed yourself against the roof, enjoying your little moment of freedom that you found.

But eventually, you spoke up, as if to the air around you, but you knew better. Even if your eyes didn’t tell you, his scent did. It was recognizable anywhere, and if his scent didn’t, then your ears would, and even if that didn’t work, your soul could.

“If you’re here, might as well join me down here, won’t you?” 

You peek through one of your eyelids, looking past the hair that had been blown onto your face. 

Right past that there he was, the man in all of his glory, the cocky and annoying bastard.

He stood behind your head, a little higher on the part where the roof was raised, leaning down with his hands in his pocket, a little bag at his side, and peering at your unimpressed expression with a grin.

“Now, now, I didn’t think you were the type to–”

You raised your hand, threatening to wack his lanky ankles, which would cause him to lose balance and make him fall off the roof. 

But you knew you couldn’t, nothing could get past that infinity of his. But it still held the same effect after all these years as he raised both of his arms in surrender, sighing like a child as he made himself a spot next to you.

You noticed he didn’t wear his blindfold or glasses today. It somehow made him look bare. You suppose you just weren’t used to it…not having seen him without one for a very long time.

You two didn’t speak for a while, and you were afraid, not that you wanted to admit it, but just a little bit that he would leave too soon, and so you started to talk.

“Fancy seeing you here, weren’t you assigned a mission across the world in the Americas a few days ago?”

He replied back with his smug and cocky tone, coupled with that shit-eating grin, the one that he still had despite all these years, “Why? Did you miss me that badly?”

“No,” was your flat-out response.

You’ve grown used to his absence.

But did you really?

“Ouch. Come on! Shouldn’t you be happy I’m back early for once?” He whined. Somehow when it was just the two of you alone he always put on that same overgrown child act.

Not that you complained.

He hummed in fake contemplation, “Hmm. Should I tell you? It’s supposed to be a secret~ a huge one! I’ll probably get in big trouble.”

As if he’s ever been scared of the higher-ups.

You hold back an eye roll as you mutter, “On second thought— I don’t think I’m all that interested anymore.”

You were used to his antics, his usual method of craving for sympathy.

“Well,” he chuckled, “Now I’ve got to tell you, don’t I?”

“...I don’t care.” You say, biting back a tired sigh. You seem to do that a lot in his presence.

“Precisely! Since you don’t want to hear it, then now I’ve got to tell you!”

Great.

He leaned back, his hands behind his head as he began to explain his early return, “Turns out the case wasn’t as bad as the higher-ups thought it was, a misunderstanding. The curse was pretty easy to deal with, of course, it was mainly because I was there.”

Uh-huh.

You rolled your eyes.

He took a breath before continuing, “And so, I finished the mission, bought a couple of souvenirs, and decided to come back early. I figured since I had some free time on my hands I would come and visit.”

To you. To come and visit you.

“How thoughtful of you,” you remark lazily as you follow the clouds slow drift.

“Aren’t I?” He replied sitting up and grinning down at you, “So you’ve noticed!”

This guy–

Just as you were about to smack him he continued- almost hurriedly.

“I even bought you some souvenirs!” He gave you a quick glance at your unconvincing expression and added seriously, “Really! I’m being for real.”

Now that only made you more suspicious, “Did you break something of mine?”

He supports himself up with his arm, “Whaaat? What brings you to say that?”

You scrutinize him further, checking for any signs of potential an apology gift-ing face, “For all the reasons there are.” 

He rarely brings you anything, rather keeping them to himself. Though, the majority of the reason for why that is, is because all he ever buys is sweets. Now, you may appreciate having a few every so often, but the problem is the ones he buys are always…too sweet.

So, this was suspicious, to say the least. He must be trying to make up for something.

“And…because you’re you,” You decide to add.

He smiles down at you as with his other free arm lifts the gift bag from earlier, a child-like excitement showing on his face, announcing, “Specialties from the Americas!”

You look at his bag with some curiosity, and a part of you did wonder what foods from another country would taste like. 

You decided you would forgive Satoru this time…and perhaps even a little thankful.

However, that thankful feeling for his consideration soon disappeared, as fast as how fast a paper would burn when being thrown into a burning building.

“Fucking shit! Water! Water!!” You yelled as you wrenched the water bottle Satoru handed you with his shaking hands as he was too busy holding in his laughter, watching as you chugged it almost whole in one go.

Your yells echoed off the rooftop and were so loud the whole campus could probably hear you. It was actually because of this that later it was the reason Principle Yaga had found the both of you and kicked you guys out for the rest of the afternoon. 

The water didn’t help much, if at all. The burning sensation in your throat only continued to sting, a stubborn feeling that wouldn’t go away no matter how much water you downed.

You gasped roughly as if you were fighting for air, “What…the…hell…Satoru!?”

Satoru, the perpetrator, the man of all your current problems, sat next to you uncontrollably shaking, desperately trying to keep in his laughter.

He managed to calm himself down, smiling to himself as he dug into his bag for something else, “Ah! My bad! I must’ve given you the wrong thing!” 

“You're bad!? The wrong thing!?” You shout in disbelief.

You could not believe this man. He knew you couldn’t handle spice and yet he still–!

“This is the one! Here, catch,” he said as he tossed something that looked like another typical piece of sweets into the air. 

You caught it with ease, and brought it up close for closer inspection; forcing yourself to ignore the stinging that threatened to make tears spill, you checked the labels and ingredients this time more carefully.

You made a mental note to work on your English skills. Perhaps you could ask Nananmi sometime down the line.

You looked at the packaging before looking up at Satoru with a suspicious gaze.

“What is this,” you demanded, eyeing the manchild sorcerer.

He grinned, “Find out.”

“I’ll pass,” you replied, raising your arm and about to toss the candy over the rooftop when Satoru shouted, 

“Hey hey! Don’t toss that!”

You spare him an untrusting glance.

“Don’t you know those are expensive!?”

You laugh at his words, “Are you telling me the Gojo Satoru can’t afford a few more of these sweets?”

Knowing Gojo, he was probably one of the richest people in the country…sorcerer-wise anyway. Actually– scratch that. With how much his clan has, with him being the head, he probably is the richest. 

“They’re from another country! It’s a different kind of expensive!” He retorted, crossing his arms defensively and in disbelief at your daring to question his wallet.

You relent, biting back a comment on how he could probably warp there in no time to buy a few more, you bring the candy back down from the air.

The package is clutched tightly in your hands, and if it had a consciousness it would probably be shaking in fear from the intensity of your gaze.

“You promise these aren’t spicy?” You ask him, still deciding not to trust whatever answer falls from his mouth.

“When I ate them they were very sweet.”

You continued to give him a suspicious look. 

“Pinky swear,” he reaffirmed, even going all out as to holding out his pinky.

You stare at him, unimpressed.

“What! It’s the strongest bond in the world.”

“Is it now?” You ask with amusement.

He nodded enthusiastically, “A promise from the strongest, so don’t worry about it.”

A promise from him. 

You rolled your eyes, deciding to comment, “How childish,” and ignore him. 

He sighed dejectedly before looking back up, waiting for you to taste-test the foreign candy.

You slowly unwrap it, before bringing it up to your mouth. Sparing Satoru one more look, you push the candy past your lips and into your mouth.

Your eyes light up. It was…sweet. He wasn’t lying. The candy seemed to dissolve on your tongue and had this light feeling.

It…wasn’t bad.

“It’s sweet, right?” Satoru perked up.

“Yeah– it is…” You answer through the sweetness. You think that if Satoru himself could be a candy it would probably be this one.

“Told you.”

You give him a look that suggested, really? You watch him as he unwarps a different kind of candy before popping it into his mouth.

It was alright…at least he had some sort of skill for picking sweets…

…

You eventually (not too soon after) take that back.

Even though it was sweet at first, the outer layer of the candy soon dissolved and all too soon a flaming sensation filled your lungs again.

Spitting the candy out immediately you find your bottle of water from earlier, downing the rest of it this time before tossing the empty water bottle with all your might (and a little bit of cursed energy) at your now currently laughing backstabber.

He brought his head back as he laughed at your current state. The water bottle bounced off his head with a small thwack, too busy laughing to notice his infinity was off.

Was it intentional? Or was he just so used…to you?

Apparently, the sight of you fanning your mouth and trying whatever antics could help rid you of the prickling sensation now that you have no more water was something he deemed comedy gold. He fell back onto the roof and continued laughing at your misery with even tears appearing.

He tried to say something that resembled barely a sentence before dissolving back into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.

You on the other hand were too busy suffering to notice what the blindfolded man had said and instead focused on how to get rid of this burning feeling of scratching and stinging in your mouth.

That- stupid– bastard!

You should’ve known better! That blindfolded cheating cheater! Yes, you said used the word twice, because that’s exactly what he was!

Yet you weren’t too last in your own misery to notice a rare sight in front of you. He was…smiling. Satoru Gojo was smiling and laughing.

Instead of his now infamous grin, there it was– that pretty smile that often adorned his face back during the times of his youth. That smile that you thought you had lost.

The sun naturally lit up his skin, bright and clear, applying an almost angelic beauty to him.

And his laugh, you could tell this one was a real one, a real laugh. Not the ones he would do for the act, nor the ones where he did it because the situation called for it.

No…this was the real thing.

A laugh just for you.

You almost pulled out your phone to snap a picture but that was when the spice had just gotten too much, and way too out of hand.

Instead, you sigh to yourself, “Blindfolded cheater…”

As you looked at him you found yourself laughing along. It was nice, you thought. Almost like nothing had changed, almost like it was still the same. It was…nice.

You and Satoru spent the rest of the evening up on the rooftop, occasionally popping another candy into your mouths, and this time you made sure to only eat the ones you knew were safe. 

It was only a little while later when the sun had started hiding behind the trees that Satoru suddenly spoke up,

“I’m going to kill the higher-ups.”

Okay. That was a little out of nowhere.

“Oh?”

You could hear the smug and determined tone in his response, “Yeah, I’m going to tear down this messed up system.”

You don’t respond.

He lifts himself up to lean down to look at you, allowing you to see his vibrant and unearthly blue eyes in such detail as his hair fell downwards, almost touching your face as it blew with the wind. 

It was a bit ticklish.

If those eyes didn't hold heaven, you questioned its very existence.

“I’m being serious. I’m going to do it.” 

His expression and tone he had used in his voice already told you this much, and you knew that he had always hated the system. And you understood where it came from. Hell– you even hate the system.

But you knew Satoru was adamant about it, about preserving the youth of others that he himself had been stripped from.

That blue spring.

And because you knew this, you broke out into a small smile and answered in a very quiet voice, “I know. I know you will.”

He grinned, falling back onto his back, seemly satisfied as he set his gaze back up at the evening sky, decorated with purple and orange tones.

“You believe me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

How could you not believe him?

“Well,” he said, “Now I definitely will with your support.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to do it anyway?” You ask, raising a brow, but unable to keep the smile out of your tone.

“Yeah! I did! And I am. But now that I know you have my back I know for sure that I will.”

You snort at his words, knowing that your words alone would have made little effort in his pursuit, but you couldn’t help but entertain the idea anyway.

Peering to the side to look at Satoru, he wore a content smile, illuminated by the setting sun that made his hair almost glow, you find yourself pulling out your phone.

A little longer in this moment wouldn’t have hurt.

You still managed to take a photo.

It was the photo that would become the wallpaper on your phone. Mainly because Satoru had been going through it one day and found it, deciding to set it to your phone screen.

Now whenever you open your phone screen you’re reminded of that day. You think it was the last time you heard him laugh, smile that wide, and truly talk to you about him, and so you’ll treasure it close to your heart as well.

Was it too selfish to wish to see that smile again?

With that photo it was like that moment was forefeet frozen in time, the way his hair was swept up by the wind while his smile was wide and carefree. His eyes even seemed to glow even more heavenly.

If one were to ask you who Satoru Gojo was to you…you probably would have just shown them this picture. But alas you were also selfish, and so you think you’ll keep this one to yourself.

Just this one.

Time passed again.

It was around this time that your worst nightmare had come true.

This time, you heard he had become a teacher. A teacher. If you hadn’t seen it for yourself you wouldn’t have believed it.

Yuta, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. 

They were bright and talented students, and you grew a bit fond of them. They reminded you of when you were once a student, once like them.

But why did it have to end that way?

You often found yourself in your free time helping them train and work on their combat technique. It was to the point where others would wonder who was the teacher, Gojo or you?

But you didn’t really complain, not really. You enjoyed working with them, seeing them improve, and watching them grow.

“Yuta, lower your arms by a few degrees when parrying against that, it’ll help with flowing you into another the next movement.”

Yuta nodded, readjusting her grip on his weapon as he returned back into the first stance.

“I’m ready to go again,” Yuta said.

You nod, smiling at the young boy’s determination while his friends gave him encouragement from the sides.

Yuta took a step back, his sole digging into the ground before he disappeared from view.

Only seconds later did he reappear, his katana clashing with yours.

Clang–!

He pushed off against your weapon, landing just a few feet away.

“Nice one! Again!” You call as you ready your stance once more.

You block and parry each of his attacks, letting sparks fly each time metal met metal. It was after a few times that you finally decided to go on the attack.

Pushing against the ground you flew toward’s Yuta from the side, aiming at his shoulder, only to feint last second and go for legs. To your expectations, your attack was met with his blade; a perfectly executed counter.

You step again, making your movements flow into the next attack, the head, the chest, and legs, every attack was met with a sword similar to yours.

What a scary kid, you thought, proud of his fast adaptation abilities to your attacks.

You were just about to sidestep and swing again when you heard a voice calling out your name.

“Hey! What are you guys up to without me?”

You and Yuta immediately pause mid-attack. 

You felt your shoulders sag a bit as you sighed deeply, bringing your weapon back to your side, and wiping the sweat off your face with your uniform; then turning to meet the person who had just interrupted your spar, though you already knew who it was.

“Seems like his highness was a bit busy today, don’t you think? Not showing up for your own class?” 

Satoru only shrugged as he continued to make his way down the stairs and towards you and his students, his bandages on and his hair looking like the usual porcupine. Though it did nothing to hinder his appearance.

“There’s no problem, my favorite person in the world has taken care of it for me, didn’t they?”

You roll your eyes, “As if. What if I wasn’t able to make it in today, hm? Or what if I decided I wanted to bail out?”

Not that you would ever.

Yet he only grinned and laughed, “I trust you! So there's no worry!”

You held back another tired sigh as you muttered, “This isn’t about whether you trust me or not.”

What if one day you really couldn’t make it? What if one day something happened to you or the kids? What will you do then?

He then turned towards the students, “Okay everyone! Today’s class is over!”

“What?” Maki asked, leaning on her spear as he gave her teacher a confused look.

Inumaki chirped, “Salmon.”

Which was followed by a very confused Yuta and Panda “Huh?” 

Satoru clapped his hands together, “Yup! Lesson over!”

You brought your hand up to your face and facepamed.

It was only later when you and Satoru were walking around on the streets of Toyoko that you figured out why he had ended the lesson early despite his arrival, which also explained his absence in class that day.

“So…what your saying is that the curses are getting stronger? And more intelligent?” You say, summarizing the information dump that he had just given you.

Apparently, he had been cooped up in a meeting with the higher-up, and being the head of the Gojo Clan, it was obvious his attendance was required.

This information would usually cause one to panic or be scared because it would only mean something was wrong, something was so very wrong.

Yet the man-child before you had a grin on his face as he said in an almost relaxed nature, replying through his mouthful of cake that he had bought on the way, “Exactly!”

“What are they planning on doing about it then?”

“Dunno,” he responds simply, more concerned with licking the frosting off his fingers.

…

“Weren’t you in the meeting?!”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling his head off to the side to finally look at you, “said a bunch of nonsense, though.”

You felt like hitting him, “I’m sure curses becoming more dangerous is a bunch of nonsense.”

“Yeah, it was. But do you know what’s more interesting?”

There he goes, switching the topic.

“What?”

“The Mochi Mochi shop’s new cake,” He grinned, holding up the half-eaten cake with only the bottom part of the box present, the lid long gone.

It was lemon-flavored.

There was frosting stuck to the side of that grin of his, and you fought the urge to tiptoe and wipe it off. Just how sweet would it taste?

No! You were getting distracted. Too distracted! 

You should be focusing on the sudden bombshell of news that was suddenly dropped on you, and how there should be more urgency to such news, “This is serious Gojo!”

But when you expected his response you look up only to see the edges of his mouth in a downturn line as he grunted.

A headache was definitely coming up for you. 

“What?”

“My name.” 

His response was short. A clear meaning that something had bothered him. And of course, like the child he is– instead of communicating he will drag this out as long as possible.

“Your name?” You say in disbelief, having no clue as to what you had said to cause such a reaction from him, “What about your name?”

But you received no response as the manchild in front of you continued to pout.

You start to laugh, “Don’t tell me..-! Are you upset that your name isn’t the second coming of Jesus Christ or something?”

He only grunted again, and you could tell from under his blindfold he was scrunching up his face in a way that suggested he was bothered by something.

“Is the title as the strongest not enough?”

Silence.

“Oh come on…what is it?”

As the two of you walked on you continued to relay the past conversation again in your head.

What was it? Did you say something wrong? That couldn’t be it. Was it perhaps something happening around you weren’t aware of? Could it…

Ah. 

You knew why he was upset…you think– anyway. He couldn’t be upset over such a small thing…could he? Then again, he was a child stuffed inside an adult’s body.

Wasn’t he 28 this year?

You sigh, before stopping in your strides. You turn around and look up a him, a smile playing on your lips as he looked down at you curiously, his pout still in place.

You gesture for him to lean down, and so he complies, while also using one finger to lift his bandages halfway, revealing one of his blue eyes.

What happened next was something you don’t even know how it came to be. Your own daring had gotten too strong that night, or perhaps you had gotten too drunk off of Satoru’s presence.

Tiptoing to meet him in the middle, you bring your finger up to wipe the leftover frosting from his lips before bringing it to your mouth.

Sweet.

Too sweet.

You smiled up at him, “Aren’t you a spoiled child, Satoru?”

You look up at his eyes, expecting him to quip back. But you were met with wide eyes and complete silence.

Ah- had you gotten too comfortable? Did you go too far?

You watch as he slowly leaned away, tugging the blindfold back down to his eyes, before breaking out into a smug grin, “I-...I am quite a spoiled child.”

He stuttered.

Satoru Gojo never stutters.

He returned back to walking, waving a hand in the air, “And it does require a lot of attention.”

It was as if nothing happened, and that he was simply put off by it…is that you would have thought if you hadn’t spotted the back of his neck and the tip of his ears turning a bright shade of red.

You still stood there in place, only moving when he looked back at you after noticing you weren’t walking beside him anymore, “Don’t tell me I paralyzed you with my beauty?”

“In your dreams.”

You run to catch up with him.

Perhaps that night he did manage to successfully diverge you from the pressing topic he had no interest in discussing. But you also managed to make the Gojo Satoru flustered that night, so you wouldn’t take it as a complete loss.

Ever since that day, you notice that he had become a little clumsier with his eating, often getting it on different parts of his face.

He also visits that Mochi Mochi shop a lot more often after that…

That interaction gave you hope that perhaps…that just maybe…there was a chance. But that was all it was and ever will be.

A chance.

Tell me, in another life, would it have been something more ‘than a chance’?

But it seemed fate had other plans. 

Fate, you now think to yourself, what a curse it is.

Shortly after that things started going downhill. The vessel for Sukuna, the King of Curses in the form of a child named Yuji, appeared. And many things came crashing after that.

But most of you still made it out okay, and things were looking up. It was okay, you told yourself. Things were…okay. Because things had to be okay.

.

.

.

But it wasn’t.

October 31st.

One of the two dates you will never be able to forget.

The Shibuya Incident.

The Sealing of the Strongest Sorcerer alive.

The Sealing of Gojo Satoru.

You remember the empty panic you felt when you heard the news. It had made your mind blank, and it felt as if it was falling apart. It was almost the exact same feeling from that day, all those years ago. But you were older now, more mature. 

So…you didn’t cry. Nor did you act out on your panic, nor did you break down. Even if every single cell in your body wanted to just collapse on itself. 

No, you couldn’t. You had a duty to fulfill first, and your emotions came last.

And so you fought, and fought, you fought for your life and for the lives of others. For the lives of the citizens, of the students, and for your home.

He will be alright, you repeated in your mind.

It was constant, never-ending. It was a sort of comfort, and it felt like if you said it long enough it would be true.

It has to be true.

He will be alright because he said so. 

Because he said so to you.

He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive. He was Gojo Satoru, your arrogant classmate. He was Satoru, your…

“Be careful,” You say after him, mere moments before he entered the dark veil. He wore his blindfold and his Jujustu Tech uniform, all prepared for what was to come, and yet his expression showed no sign of worry.

And you almost believed it.

Almost.

He turned around to look at you. It was one of these moments that you wished you could’ve seen his clear sky-like eyes so that you could’ve seen what he was hiding behind his mask of arrogance.

A way to a person’s soul was through their eyes, no matter how high their wall was or how far the line was drawn. But the person in front of you had closed that off too.

You sometimes wondered if you could see those eyes…would they have helped you understand Gojo Satoru a little better?

“Are you concerned?” He grinned, “Worried about me?”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

He brings a hand over his heart, “I’m honored.”

You take a step forward.

You wondered if you could reach him.

“Listen, I have a bad feeling.”

“Don’t sweat. I’m the strongest, remember? I’ll be fine,” He said, waving you off.

That damn line. 

That damn line.

“I know. Trust me, I know that…”

More than anyone else, perhaps.

You continue, “But just- just in case-”

Just in case something goes wrong.

“Remind me after to take you cake shopping, isn’t your birthday soon? Don’t worry,” He flashed a peace sign, “We’ll celebrate it,” Was all he said before he disappeared into the curtain with a small wave.

You wished he was there to celebrate all your birthdays to come.

It was only after you arrived back in your cold and empty apartment that you collapsed by the door that you had just closed.

You couldn’t stand up any longer, and even walking from your car to the elevator had your legs shaking.

But you didn’t cry. You couldn’t cry. Because crying would have meant it was over. Crying would have meant you were grieving. You couldn’t grieve, not now. For now, you must remain strong. For your students, for friends, for your Satoru, and for you. 

So no, you were not going to cry. You had no one to grieve over.

It was not over. Not yet. Not now.

And so you sat there, collapsed by your apartment door for the rest of the night, unmoving. You felt as if you’d lost a bit of yourself. As if someone had come in and torn it away, tossing it into the deepest depths of the sea.

Your eyes were a bit empty, but still alive, nonetheless. 

That night you did not shed a single tear.

It was to your immense relief when you heard the news that Satoru was alive. He was alive, breathing, and unsealed.

You wanted to run to him, to give him a hug, to hold him tight, just for your heart to confirm that he was okay.

He was okay.

You wanted to hear him laugh, to see his stupid grin, and to hear all the weird things he had to say. Everything and anything that told you that he was fine.

But the events that followed did not allow you to see much of Gojo Satoru. He was busy and was away preparing.

Preparing for what could have possibly be his biggest battle yet. You had other words to title the battle, but you didn’t want to say it. You couldn’t say it.

Because it would have made it all the more painful.

You had many memories of Gojo Satoru, many treasured ones that you kept close to your heart, locked away and hidden from sight. Some of the sweetness of youthful ignorance, some were more of a competition to see who could come up with the more creative insult, and some were of the times you managed to steal his love, if only for a few moments.

Could you even call it that?

But this one will forever be the most painful.

A night before December 24th, you, who were walking around the Jujustu Campus to delay the sun from rising, just so happened to pass by the Tori Gate, and to your luck, also see him.

It was almost as if fate decided to play one last cruel joke.

You saw him standing there surrounded by the many stone lanterns that remained intact there after all these years. He stood there silently and unmoving, staring somewhere off into the distance as if he was waiting for you.

He was. But he’ll never tell you. He never managed to tell you many things.

He didn’t wear his blindfold. His hair was down with remnants of water. He must’ve taken a shower not too long ago. He wore a T-shirt with sweatpants, somehow unbothered from the cold of winter’s night.

You silently walk up to him, standing there for a while. You knew he knew you were here. Just as how you always knew when he was there.

The two of you didn’t say anything.

You took a sharp inhale, and then a deep exhale before you raised your head, bringing it to look at him. To your surprise, he was already looking at you.

You stare into his eyes which still somehow managed to bring heaven to you. Looking at those eyes reminded you of many memories, of the past, present, and now…

They provided a sense of comfort…of familiarity in this ever-changing world, because even if the whole city was destroyed one day, it seemed as if those eyes would still be there, to hold you stable.

“Hey,” he softly breathed out.

“Hi.”

“It’s pretty cold out,” he says as a gust of wind passes by, making you shiver slightly.

Ah. So he does know what being cold is.

You take another glance at his outfit, “Says you.”

You could hear a faint smile in the way he sighed.

“Come to wish me luck, hm?” He asks, his voice light and calm.

You raise your eyebrows, “Do you even need it?”

“Of course,” he answers back almost instantaneously.

“I suppose I’ll make an exception today then,” you decide as you tilt back and forth on the heels of your foot.

You offer your best smile.

“Good luck then, Satoru. May the heavens be in your…favor”

Yet you couldn’t help your voice from breaking near the end. You’re sure he heard it as well.

This was goodbye, wasn’t it?

Saying goodbye was hard. It was never your specialty, and even with how many goodbyes you’ve said you could never get used to it.

Yet you were certain this was the hardest goodbye you’ve had to say yet.

He offered a small grin, “Why are you crying?”

You could feel something wet fall down your cheek and onto your shirt, but you didn’t look down and check. It felt as if the moment you looked away from those eyes it would be gone all too soon.

His eyes softened, bringing his hand to cup the side of your cheek so carefully as if you might break any moment now.

You wanted to respond with a quip, insult his hair, or even his attitude, and yet you could only bite your lips to prevent the sobs from breaking through.

This couldn’t be goodbye. It simply can’t be.

And so, you could only softly shake your head as your vision started to blur from your tears.

“Hey, don’t cry,” He laughed quietly, wiping your tears with his thumb, still cupping your face.

“I’m not,” you say, your voice shaky and barely audible.

But he heard you. He always did.

“Sure you aren’t.”

You look down, bringing your arm to wipe the tears from your eyes.

You can’t cry. Not now.

But you couldn’t stop. It was as if apart of you knew that this might be the last time you were going to see him, to feel his warmth against yours, to hear his voice, to–

“Look at me,” he requested gently, using his thumb to draw small circles on the side of your cheek.

And so you do, you look back at him, taking in his white soft hair that almost reminded you of the first snow, the purest of snow. You take in his scent, the smell of vanilla. 

You force yourself to etch his voice into your memories so that you will never forget.

“I’m the strongest. I’ll win.”

You wanted to believe him, oh how dearly you wanted to. But he probably even knew better than you did.

Satoru sighs when he still sees your hesitating face, his face lost in thought before bringing up his pinky to you.

And suddenly, you were sixteen again, and not a day older than when you had first walked under this gate. You and him, standing underneath the Torii Gate in the presence of the bluest spring as petals danced around the two of you.

“Let’s make a promise then,” he whispers with a cheeky smile.

You eye him suspiciously through your tears as you force your voice to be stable, “What kind of promise?”

“I’ll win, that’s my promise,” he says.

A promise to you.

“You promise?” You couldn’t help but ask again, like a child seeking comfort.

He nods affirmatively, “I promise.”

You bring your pinky up to his, entwining in a desperate kind of promise.

He smiles down softly at you as the two of you shake on it.

You then take a step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist.

And he let you.

You could feel his warmth. He didn’t have his infinity on.

He never did when it came to you.

He chuckled warmly, “If my memory serves me correctly…” he paused, “A while ago, someone had called the motion childish?”

“Shut up,” you mumble through into his shirt.

You felt his hands wrap around yours, pulling you closer to him.

This was possibly the closest you’ve ever been to Gojo Satoru.

“Don’t go,” You say quietly, “Don’t go.”

 “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not!” You protest.

And all of a sudden you were the child now, all your walls were broken and damaged as you lay yourself bare.

“Not you…not you too,” you beg softly, as if hoping that your words could change his will.

You know it can’t.

“Didn’t we just promise?” He says, “We’ll see eachother again. I’m sure of it.”

And for a second, you believed him.

Gojo Satoru, you are a cruel man, did you know?

Gojo Satoru, what were you supposed to do now with your promise? Tell me, you begged. Tell me, what am I supposed to do now that all there was left was that promise of yours?

Where are you to come and comfort me when I’m no longer able to stand by myself? Where are you to come and dry my tears again?

What were you supposed to do when all there left were memories locked behind your heart? What were you supposed to do now when all the words he’s ever said will forever be played on repeat.

Gojo Satoru was a lot of things. Sometimes he was arrogant, annoying, and rude. But he was also kind, caring, and lonely. He was a child at heart, someone who dreamed, someone who had high ambitions, someone who took care of his students, and someone who had a pretty smile.

He was your friend, your coworker, your classmate, he was someone you confided with, someone that made you feel like home, someone that made you laugh, someone who was close to you, he was always and had only ever been Satoru to you.

You’ve always known there was a before Gojo Satoru, then there was during Gojo Satoru…you just never thought that one day there would be an after Gojo Satoru.