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cloud9gojo · 9 months ago

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salt & the sea ch. 2

part one: x

pairing: geto x f!reader if we ever make it there

words: 6.6k

warnings: sfw they’re kids bro, sign language, synesthesia, kid awkwardness, me being awkward, pokemon, slowburnnnn (once we get there), no beta we die like men frrr

Wednesday, April 15th, 1998

"Keep your head above your chest, Inumaki-san."

If you could catch your breath, you would have something witty to say. Instead, your heart is thump, thump, thumping away, causing your ribs to ache with effort. All you can do is grunt your displeasure with Geto.

"I'm just trying to help you." It's the way he says it, head cocked at you with that sly little smile plastered on his face, that irks you. How annoying.

You bring yourself up from resting your hands on your knees, blinking away the stars that swim into your vision. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." It comes out more breathless than you intended.

Running was not your strong suit, no matter how many kilometers you ran or how many breath exercises you did. Your legs were too little, especially compared to Geto, who had already grown a few centimeters since you last saw him in December. Your morning runs seemed to be the only time he was upright.

Good for him, you think, before beginning your cooldown walk along the beach side by side with him. You watch the horizon, taking note of the whispy clouds that littered the sky, stretched thin against the pale spring morning. The cold air blew against your face, cooling the sweat on your temples.

Geto snorts before continuing, "If you swing your arms a little more, you'll be able to move faster. Did you know that?" He adds a little more swing to his for emphasis, making long arcs that match his stride, which was about three of yours. After running drills, he'll say he will slow down to walk back with you, but you always end up scurrying alongside him, trying to keep up. Usually, it was easy to walk next to him, but Geto was a ball of energy after physical training. Restless, sweaty.

"No, I didn't," you mutter before turning to look at the ocean. You weren't really up for conversation immediately after running your little heart out. That, and while you had gotten more used to talking out loud, you much preferred signing. It was so much more convenient and it didn't require so much effort to get your point across. (Plus, you had never had to think about the sound of your voice before, its color was unfamiliar to you. Your brain had already started to block out the different hues of warm orange that your voice made but the process still gave you a headache most of the time. That made you extra grouchy.)

Geto bumps your elbow with his, which he had started doing to get your attention shortly after you started training together. (You had told him that he could wave at you after the first few days of him doing it, but he just shrugged and said, "What if you pretend you don't see me? This way I know you can't ignore me." You had looked at him, incredulous. He figured out you were ignoring him that fast?) "Do you think your dad is gonna open up that case today?"

He's talking about the one your father had unpacked from your attic earlier in the week. You both had stood at the bottom of the ladder while he unloaded it, but he didn't allow either of you to view the insides. Instead, he had decided to set the long brown case on your family's coffee table, where it had lay “untouched” for several days now.

You shrug, still trying to slow your breath. "Maybe."

Geto lets out a puff of air in an attempt to blow his bangs out of his face. "You're so grumpy in the morning, Inumaki-san." It’s more whiney than he usually allows himself, the thought almost brings a smile to your face. You’re so used to chastising each other, it’s rare for one of you to show weakness.

"I have to spend it with you, don't I?"

"I'm a joy to be around." Geto sidesteps alongside you, and you begrudgingly meet his gaze. He has that smug grin on his face again.

You snort and raise your eyebrows at him, "Is that what you think?" It comes out meaner than intended.

Geto's smile falls a little bit, but he recovers quickly. "I have to have a lot of patience to put up with you, it's a skill." There’s an edge to his voice that usually isn’t there, a warning, he can be just as mean as you.

You scrunch your nose at him, not letting his tone of voice upset you, "Put up with me?" You make sure to put as much attitude into your voice as you can muster. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be able to understand my parents at all! You're signing is lazy and all over the place! Without me, you'd be lost." It’s a lie since you’ve been teaching him sign every day you see him and you can’t be that bad at it, surely.

You put some more power into your steps to get ahead of him, but Geto catches up to you easily. Curse his long legs.

The both of you bump shoulders as you make your way through the tall grasses, another desire path already forming from your morning running drills together. Brambles and shoots of grass litter the path and they make faint crunching noises when you step on them, releasing little green pops of color.

"Maybe you're just not a good teacher." Geto is finally starting to slow his pace, facing forward and relaxing back into his usual forward lean.

"Maybe you're just not a good student." You watch as Geto kicks a rock through the air. It skids along the sand, getting stuck in a foothill of beach grass.

He laughs, a deep purple you've gotten used to the most. (If you weren't bickering between tasks, you were probably off giggling with each other, mischief-bound.) "That's probably true, but that's why you're so good at putting up with me also, right?"

You huff and roll your eyes at him, "Whatever." You turn to try and hide the small smile tugging at your lips, but he bumps your shoulder again.

"It's rude to look away when someone's talking to you." It's clunky and he's using two hands to sign, but it's a good effort. Despite your teasing, Geto is a fast learner and you recognize how much he puts into communicating with you and your family.

This time you can't hide your smile. Giggling, you sign back, "You stink. I don't talk with stinky people."

Geto pinches his nose closed in mock disgust, stifling his giggles. "You don't smell much better, Inumaki-san." One-handed, much better.

You shake your head at him, shrugging. Of course you do, you both ran double the distance you did yesterday. "Well, we'll see who's left all dirty when I beat you to the shower first!" With that, you take off sprinting towards your back door, Geto's surprised face a blur as you rush past him.

He only lags a second before quickly overtaking the lead you created, laughing maniacally all the way to your back door. You watch breathlessly as he kicks off his shoes and flings the door open. You're halfway up the steps when he whips around to blow a raspberry at you, sticking out his tongue, before running off to your one shower.

You slow down and sigh before slowly toeing off your tennis shoes and entering your home. Your mother is with your sister Akari in the kitchen, preparing your and Geto's morning snack. (Green tea and onigiri, thank you, mom.) You shuffle past the kitchen entrance and wave a small hello to her before continuing down the hall to your room to pick out your clothes for the day. You can't wait to cool down for real after a shower, you were stinky.

Even though you raced for it, neither of you ever take long showers. You both know there’s always someone waiting on you. If he does take long, you don't let him forget it. Sometimes, it devolves into real arguments if you're a little too mean with your words, which only makes Geto come back at you, just as fiercely.

You enter your room and flop onto your bed. You take a big breath, focusing on the feeling of your heartbeat slowing down. The two of you weren't the best at getting along for extended periods of time. You and Geto had gotten into several bickering matches the first two weeks over the smallest stuff, like debating which pokémon was better. (Charmander, obviously.) Geto had argued Bulbasaur, so you, very maturely, decided he was entitled to his wrong opinion and told him as much. In return, he used his fighting advantages against you during sparring, knocking the air out of you with a strike to your sternum. It was still tender, almost a week later. You rubbed the spot until the pain dissipated, but it always returned within the hour.

The only time you had gotten along consistently was when you and Geto had been inspecting the case between subjects throughout the past few days, trying to pry it open to no avail. You had no trouble working together then, taking shifts to watch for your parents while the other worked on the lock. Neither of you had had any luck picking it, but you think it’s brought you closer. You twiddle your thumbs, feeling for callouses. You hope that today will be the day your father lets you peek inside.

After you were both clean, Geto and you sat in the living room with your sister and mother to eat together. Akari was chewing away on her teething toy in your mother's lap, joyful and chubby, utterly cherubic. Before theory with your father, your mom always made sure to sit and talk with you and Suguru. It was good signing practice for Geto as well.

"So," she starts, "how was your run this morning?"

You gulp down a bite of onigiri before replying, "Same as always. Hard and boring."

Geto sets down his cup on the coffee table to free up his hands. "Easy. Boring." Even though he signs, he still speaks it aloud as well. After two weeks, you barely detect the indigo of his voice.

Your mother laughs before smoothing down your sister's hair. "Well, I'm glad you found it easy, Suguru-kun." Before she can continue, your sister starts fussing, a shrill and annoying cry. Ugh, thank god you can't fully hear it.

"Mom, juice." Her little fists struggled to make the shape, but her intentions were crystal clear. "Juice, juice!" Akari was one demanding cherub.

Your mother stands up with your sister on her hip in one swift motion to take her to the kitchen. By now, you all know any attempt to calm her down is feeble at best. Your sister had a strong set of lungs on her, you think it's fair to assume she's going to get cursed speech. Or maybe something different from both your parents and yourself. A thousand different ways to exorcise a curse (if she has one at all).

You mother ruffles your hair on her way out of the room and you rush to fix it back. (Unlike Geto, you care about flyaways.)

Now alone, Geto toes your foot with the tip of his slipper and you glance over at him. His eyebrows shoot upwards and he nods towards the case at the end of the table. Both of you eye it then back at each other. Your mother was busy with your sister and your father was preparing afternoon lessons in his study, a perfect opportunity for snooping.

You both slide silently off the couch, taking your usual positions. You approach the case to inspect the lock while Geto spies into the hallway across the foyer towards the study, kitchen, and backdoor. You've both worked out a signal in case someone was coming nearby. One short rap on the wall, easily seen when you were looking out for the bright flash of color from Geto's knock. You kept his hands in view while you studied the case. Of course, it hadn't changed since the both of you last tried prying it open.

Yesterday, you tried to pop it off with a small sound burst but failed. In your defense, you've barely touched on offensive techniques with your mother. In between her cooking, cleaning, and taking care of both you and your sister, she was a busy, busy woman and still had to be the perfect wife, mother, and sorcerer. You don't know how she did it all, and you were definitely not looking forward to doing that yourself one day. You shuddered at the thought.

You blow out a puff of air, trying to get your hair out of your eyes. What should you try today? You didn't have the same control as your mother, so you didn't know what to do now. You look past the case to focus on Geto in the doorframe. He's tall against it, peering out to watch out for one of your parents.

You risk a small thump against the table to get his attention, but he doesn't look your way. You click your tongue, frustrated. You give the table one more thump, this time a little louder.

Geto turns back to you, still hugging the doorframe. "What?"

"Let's switch."

Geto shakes his head, it makes his bangs swing back and forth funnily. "No," he mouths.

"Yes, come try! I can't."

Suddenly, a noise from the hallway. A door being opened? It was hard to tell, but Geto's knock was long gone from your eyesight. He was already back on the couch, trying his best to be nonchalant after having crossed the room in three long bounds. You scramble back from the case and rush beside him. You settle and flatten out the wrinkles in your pants just in time for your father to walk into the room.

"What were you just doing?" He looks between you suspiciously before continuing, "Never mind, let's go outside for a bit. When we finish our meditation, we're going to start something special today." He beckons you both outside with a wave of his hand.

The both of you bump shoulders on your way out to the backyard and share small grins with each other, glad to have not gotten in trouble.

Outside, your father sits with you both in the garden for afternoon “silent time”.

"Good for the brain to focus before moving on to studying theory!" Your father had signed happily before starting, but you weren't convinced. It was times like this when you were the restless one.

You don't know how Geto and your father can sit here, doing nothing, for so long.

Your nose has been itching for the last five minutes, your left foot has pins and needles, and you have a dire need to kill that fly that keeps landing on your bare knee. Yeuch! You hated bugs.

Meditation was by far your least favorite part of training. Theory (practical and cursed) you could do, you would struggle, but you’d do it! Weapons, sparring, and cursed technique applications? Even better. But "coming back to your breath", what the heck does that even mean?

Your nose twitches in irritation and you huff, you could be playing Pokémon Red right now. You've been stuck in Mt. Moon for days and you just want to get out of there. You had already defeated that stupid Super Nerd and picked the helix fossil, but you had managed to get yourself lost trying to level up. Now, your pokémon were goofing around not listening to you, and you were so sick of getting ambushed by zubats and geodudes. (You found Paras was good for leveling up, so they could keep getting knocked out as far as you were concerned, even if it meant overleveling.) You truly have no one but yourself to blame for getting stuck. You groan inwardly, getting more annoyed by the second.

Geto had offered to help get you out last week, but you've both been busy since your father pulled out that stupid case that taunted you every time you were in the room with it.

You sigh, your father's mediation tapes droned on in the background, soft and hazy, reminding you to inhale positivity and exhale your frustrations.

You take in a lung full of air through your nose, crisp and cool, till you feel like you're about to pop and blow it all out through your mouth. Hmm, you do feel a little better. There could be something to this mindfulness thing, you think. Besides, you could always get back to playing after lessons, especially if you got to see what was in that case!

You let your thoughts drift listlessly, barely listening to your father's little portable CD player playing the 'TOP 30 GREATEST MEDITATIONS AND MANTRAS'. You were already on number fifteen, having sat down to one every day after your morning snack with your mom and sister.

After a few more moments of minding your breath, the track ends and a new one begins. You crack an eye to see your father standing up to turn it off. Finally, you can get up and stretch.

You take your time standing up, stretching towards the sky as much as possible, but seeing stars in the process. Geto twists his back to each side, bouncing on his feet, loosening up before placing his hands in his pockets.

Your father turns back to you with his CD player tucked under one arm, "Suguru, please go grab the case from the living room, thank you."

You balk, why didn’t he ask you?

Geto slides past you to go back inside, wiggling his eyebrows and sticking his tongue out. You wrinkle your nose and stick yours back at him. He continues on inside and, if you focused on it, you could see the purple of his laugh trailing behind him as he went to retrieve the case.

When he comes back he has it held carefully in his arms. He gingerly hands it to your father who walks to place it on the patio table in the back right corner. Geto goes in front of you, coming to stop just before the table. You come up beside him and wait to see the contents of the case.

The 'click' of the locks opening is a small orange burst, and with that, you can feel your excitement building. You bounce on the balls of your feet, eager, "Come on already, Dad!"

He turns to look at you, surprised, before continuing to pull out a silk bag from the case. His frame shaking with laughter, he reaches into the bag to pull out two worn-looking blades. He places all the components on the table with great care, laying them out for you both to see.

"Today, we're going to work on imbuing objects with cursed energy." Your father takes the seat behind the case and gestures for you to follow.

Geto and you sit on either side of him and you trail your finger along the silk bag.

Your father places your hands back in your lap and you purse your lips, you just wanted to feel it.

He continues, "If you're going to be great sorcerers, then you need to be working on advanced techniques as soon as possible. We've already covered how to identify your cursed energy, but today we're going to apply a small amount to these Wakizashi. We've covered weapon safety so I expect both of you to be mature about this. Not only that, but these blades have been in my family for many generations and are the only thing I have left from my father." His gaze turns serious and it makes you wither, sending a shiver up your back. "You will do your best to handle them with care, yes?"

You gulp and nod, "Yes, sir."

Geto returns your father's gaze, just as serious as him. It looks strange on his eight-year-old face. "Yes, sir."

Your father's demeanor softens once more, kindness returning to his features. He nods once, "Excellent. After this lesson, we'll have a short sparring session and then dinner. Suguru, your parents will be here for you at the normal time. I promise not to go too much over today!"

You share a glance with Geto, you both know better. Your dad will keep you until the last possible moment and then some, a true teacher. Which leaves your mother to entertain Geto's parents until you're both released. She's cracked open more bottles of that expensive sake in the past two weeks than she has your whole life. When she tucks you in for the night, you can smell it on her breath. It makes your stomach swirl.

Suddenly, bright blue strikes in your periphery, and you're drawn out of your thoughts. Your father had given the glass surface of the table a rougher smack than intended, "Pay attention, we're moving to stand now."

You nod and hastily make your way next to Geto, who's standing a few meters away from you near the grasses at the back of your yard. You both watch as your father gathers the blades in his hands and walks over to you. He hands each of you a blade and shows you both proper form first. He explains how the blades are shorter, intended for hand-to-hand combat rather than mid-range attacks.

You wait as he works with Geto, who to his credit, is doing well following along with your father's signing. You knew you weren't a bad teacher, the thought brings a smile to your face.

You take a moment to weigh the weapon in your small hand. Its weathered rope handle is rough against your palm and you shudder at the callouses you're sure to form. It's balanced, despite its age, and not too heavy either. The actual blade itself doesn't seem very sharp though. You test the edge with your thumb and scarlet bursts forth. You hiss and suck on the wound before your dad can see. Well, that was dumb.

It doesn't seem like your father or Geto noticed, so you wipe it quickly along your pants. The small red streak is quickly lost on the dark fabric. You perk up when your father turns to you, leaving Geto to practice with his own blade. If you really, really try you can see a faint glow to it. You can't deny it, Geto Suguru is an exceptional learner when it comes to jujutsu.

He kneels down next to you and shakes his head at your red thumb. He gives it a quick once over before patting your hand, "You'll be fine, but I'm sure you knew that. Please, be more careful."

You nod and he continues, "Do you remember what I told you about cursed energy?"

Another nod.

"Good. Take your weapon, there we go. Steady your breath, in and out, now send your cursed energy into the blade."

The flow of energy from you to the blade is small, but it peaks sweat on the back of your neck. What seems natural for Geto, sometimes you have to work for.

Your father smiles and claps his hands together, almost like a prayer. "Keep working on that release and then re-imbue it. Repetition is the key to perfection!"

Ugh, your dad should stop trying to being witty, he was so embarrassing. Still, you couldn't help but preen at his attention, you loved getting praise.

You work through the motions of imbuing the weapons with your cursed energy for a half hour with Geto besides you. All the while, your father goes over the theory behind imbuing objects with cursed energy all over again. You try to drown it out by sneaking a peak at how Geto’s fairing. You notice how he's not all sweaty and worked up like you. You try not to let it get on your nerves, feeling relief from your thoughts when your father calls for stretching. That can only mean sparring was left before breaking for the day.

You don't know what other eight-year-olds are doing, but you doubt getting ready to fight their friends in front of their parents.

This was by far Geto's favorite part of training with your family. He used his previous fighting experience against you every chance he got. He was a cunning opponent whose strikes were purposeful and his defense was rock-solid. It was rare for you to get an opening. You think Geto feels bad for you sometimes, because you notice he will leave his left side unprotected for short bursts. To strike, you have to be faster, get in closer to reach, but then when you try, he'll flip you over his leg. Your world goes upside down before having the wind knocked out of you. His grip like iron on your arm before being released. Geto is never overtly rough or cruel, he just wants to win, and you can respect that.

You grimace, already thinking about the pain you'll be in tomorrow. You were at a disadvantage no matter what you did, you were smaller and less used to fighting. You sigh, you didn't particularly care for being on the receiving end of his strikes and pins. Until you can get better at managing cursed energy, you were going to be weaker. The thought scared you, somewhat, but you pushed it from your mind.

The first week of training had left large bruises on your arms, you had to cover up whenever you went out to shop with your mom and sister. Luckily, it was still cool enough for sweaters.

When you're both done stretching, you stand face-to-face with each other. You let your eyes study him closer, pushing to see past the layers of air and sound. Yup, he was definitely taller. You wonder how tall he would be by the time you finished training. How tall would you be?

You shake your head, focus. You slide easily into your fighting stance, making sure your base is solid from the soles of your feet to your fists held high to protect your face. Sparring with Geto was supposed to be careful and choreographed, but your father knew better. He would tell you stories over dinner of curses he faced when he was younger before he married your mother. He always got a faraway look in his eye, but you couldn't place it. Your father promised he would make sure you were adequate at facing threats far beyond your skill range. That was probably why he didn't stop Geto from flinging you around like a ragdoll.

Whatever his justification, it was preparing you for the future, uncertain as it may be. You wouldn't take his teachings for granted.

You both circle each other before Geto moves in, you move to dodge but aren't fast enough. He clips your ribs and you bite back a yelp. In a fight, your heart rate doubles, and your vision is overwhelmed with color since it becomes harder to focus on so many things at once. You try not to get frustrated and push forward.

You go for a jab same as him, but he sidesteps you easily, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You huff and pull back, watching him carefully. Indigo colors the air around him, creating a dark aura. Yellow emanates off the tall grasses swaying behind him and white rises from the distant waves crashing. You can already feel a headache forming behind your eyes and you try to blink through the overload of visual information.

Geto pushes forward again and lands a hit to your calf in an attempt to destabilize you. It almost works, but when he moves to strike again you slide under his arm to loop your arms around his waist. It takes all your might, but you dig your heels into the ground and push off, visualizing the soundwaves converging there. It’s more power than you’re used to, uncontrolled and sloppy. You both land with an oof! and you scramble off of him.

You dust your knees off before lending out a hand to Geto whose surprise only last a few seconds before he accepts it. Luckily enough for you, he was never a sore loser, unlike you. You figure he probably would have gave you a win today either way. He was hyper-focused in a fight while you were hyper-aware of the disparity in skill, once in a while wins weren’t something to be proud of. There were only needless distractions.

You huff and try to calm your heart rate by getting more air into your lungs, breathing out the negativity. It was counterproductive anyway. You reset and nod at Geto, neither of you waiting for your father’s signal before starting again.

You go a few more rounds for the best three out of five, Geto taking the win at the end of the day. His clothes were cleaner than yours, since you only managed to pin him once. Yours, however, were all dusty from the dirt. You reached up to brush it out of your hair and felt all the twigs tangled in it. You were gonna have to take another shower, but Geto's parents needed to be greeted so manners took priority. Good communication skills were just as important as sorcery in jujutsu society.

The both of you help your father clean up the space before turning in for dinner. You give a small bow to Geto's mother, who had come without his father tonight, and take your seat beside your parents. Your stomach growls in response to the smells wafting through the air, aromatics, and spicy oil. Crispy chicken and rice were plated beautifully by your mother on the table, centered around a floral arrangement your father made her over the past weekend.

You all but scarf down your food, barely paying attention to the conversation going around the table. It's all boring grown-up stuff anyways, pleasantries and talk of the weather. You figure Geto could use the practice interpreting.

"It'll hopefully be a sunny Saturday, perfect for a park trip with the children!" Your mother’s lithe hand whips in and out of your view.

It catches your attention for a moment, it’s a nice suggestion, but you were more of a homebody. Not that being outside didn't interest you, but come on, Pokémon wins that battle, easy. Speaking of, if you finished early you would have time to play with Geto and, hopefully, get out of Mt. Moon!

You scrape the last bit of rice off your plate and then try to get Geto's attention, but he is too busy slurping down a plate of noodles (he was a picky eater, much to your chagrin.) You wiggle further down your seat and reach to kick him, finally getting him to look up. A stray noodle hangs from his chin and he frowns before sucking it down.

He raises his eyebrows, questioning.

"Me, shower, fast. You, eat, finish. We, play, pokémon." You don't waste time signing every little word, Geto is smart enough to connect the dots.

You're right, Geto nods in acknowledgment before getting back to his noodle bowl.

You excuse yourself quietly before dropping off your dishes in the kitchen and rushing off for a second shower (your poor hair).

When you're done, you make sure to grab your Gameboy before going to the living room. Geto is already waiting there for you on the couch, eyes trained on your TV silently playing Yu-Gi-Oh!

You cross the room quickly and sit down next to him on the couch, bumping shoulders before thrusting the Nintendo into his hands.

He hums, taking it from you and turning it on. The chime of the Gameboy’s startup is pink, but the glow is a low green.

You watch as Geto navigates your character through the dungeon of Mt. Moon. When he concentrates, the space between his brows creases and a frown pulls at his lips. It's easier for him to move through the levels, somehow he was getting fewer encounters leaving than you were your whole time in there. And, of course, your pokémon would choose to listen to Geto the majority of the time and not you. Lucky, lucky.

Eh, whatever, as long as you escape.

Geto makes it back to level one easily and takes your character out of the mountain. "I don't know why that was so hard for you, Inumaki-san. I got out of there ages ago."

You roll your eyes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Don't 'yeah, yeah, yeah' me, I just got you out of there!"

You hide a teasing smile, "Whatever."

Geto sighs, exasperated. He makes a show of dragging his hand down his face, flattening his bangs in the process. You laugh and he fixes them back into place. "It's rude to laugh at other people, ya know?"

"I know, but it's just you, right, Geto-san? And I can be rude with you, since you're my rival." You fix your posture and snootily cross your arms, making just as big a show as he did.

"Hey, we're a team, not competitors." He leans away to pull his legs into criss-cross-applesauce underneath him.

You copy him, your knee pressed against his, a solid connection. "You're right, I guess." Your fingers ache signing, but you were too busy yawning to speak back. A moment passes and you continue, "You should have a sign name."

Geto arches a brow at you, "You haven't even called me by my first name yet."

You frown, realizing he was right. You turn your body to face him so you're sideways on the couch.

He startles, but laughs slightly before asking, "What are you doing?"

You cock your head to the side, studying him. Were you close enough to call him by his first name? You voice this concern to him, but then Geto surprises you with a big belly laugh.

"You let me flip and jab you almost every day, don't you think I should at least be able to call you by your name and you call me mine?"

It's reasonable enough, but you grimace. What if he finds your name funny or makes fun of you? You eye his face warily and decide, no, Geto isn't like that. You nod, "Okay."

He looks at you, expectant, "Well?"

You blink. "Well, what?"

"Are you gonna say it?" Geto looks genuinely eager, but you still hesitate.

He's putting you on the spot and you're starting to sweat. "Just, like, right now?"

He nods, eyes crinkling from his smile.

Wow, you guys were actually getting a long pretty well today. "Why do you want me to say it so bad? I'll say it when it's natural, putting me on the spot is a lot of pressure." You purse your lips to keep from smiling nervously.

He matches your expression and straightens up, challenging. "Well, tell me yours and I'll say it."

You shake your head vehemently, "No."

"No? What do you mean no?" He leans back, offended. “You’re the one who brought it up!”

"You're being pushy! You were supposed to say no!" You know pointing is rude, but you jab a finger his way. "Why don't we just stick with Inumaki? You can drop the -san." You nod your head, what a good compromise, but Geto doesn't seem convinced.

He suddenly looks utterly bored, but you know better, he's just giving you his version of attitude. "I'm supposed to call you Inumaki for the next six years while you call me by my first name?"

You shrug. "Why don't you make it a nickname?"

"Really?"

"Or we could stick-"

Geto cuts you off, realizing you weren’t going to give it up. "No, it's fine. Let me think..." He places his hand under his chin, pondering. "Inu? No, you're a girl, not a dog. Plus, you're more cat-like anyways."

Does he know he's talking out loud?

You're about to tell him as much, but he doesn't let you get a word in with the stream of consciousness he's currently listing out loud. "Inuma? No, ugly. Maki? Nah, I already know three. Well, used too, anyway..." He taps his chin a few times before perking up. "I know, how about Aki? Yeah, it works! Inumaki-aki-aki-aki." He chatters on, repeating it, giggling.

You smile at him and he returns it, all teeth. "I guess that works, for now, Suguru-chan." You tack on the last part, partly joking, partly not.

Suguru's cheeks warm up slightly. "Ah, shut up! No -chans, or I'm calling you Inu!" He picks up your forgotten Gameboy from the cushion and faces back towards the television.

You laugh and do the same, watching as he guides your character down Route 4. You sneak glances at Suguru's face every so often, studying his side profile, cast in a greenish hue. How much is it going to change in six years? How much will yours? You turn back to the screen, poking at your cheeks absentmindedly. Only time will tell.

"Your Charmeleon is about to die, we should've healed at the center before leaving..." You're half listening, half not, but Suguru continues on happily. He does try to sign with his left hand every once in a while, a good habit to build, you suppose.

Sleep was calling your name, but for now, you were with your, what? Friend? Earlier, Suguru had called you both teammates, but weren't you friends if you ate together, played together, trained together?

Yeah, he was your friend.

You're only friend, but the thought didn't bother you. If anything, it was a comfort to be in the company of someone strong, who was kind to you and helped you. In his own weird way, the same way you tried for him when you suggested picking the lock together that first day the case was on the coffee table. An olive branch from you? Maybe. Either way, you and Geto were tied together by forces more powerful than you.

There had never been anyone like Geto Suguru in your life before, you had grown up stuck between two worlds. Days out to the park, mall, and restaurants with your parents, face masks on. Then, there were days when your father would lecture you all about the greatness of jujutsu society, and how you and your mother should strive to be as perfect as you can be. You were women, unfortunately, but you could try your best to get as close as possible.

It was like a slap in the face when he says these things, off on another tirade about taking back his place as clan head, wrapped up in antiquated ideals and sake.

You take a deep breath that turns into a yawn and squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t want to keep thinking about the sour memory.

"It's okay, Aki-san. You can sleep, I'll keep going forward for you." He catches your gaze and signs the last part perfectly.

Hmph, you were a good teacher. You nod, "Okay, wake me up before you go."

Suguru takes a moment to smile at you over his shoulder, bangs hanging forward, before continuing to play.

You return his smile before stretching out, feet skimming Suguru's pant leg, and yawning widely. Smacking your lips together, you snuggle deeper into your part of the couch. The Pokémon Red theme was distant and fuzzy in your ears, but you still managed to drift off, your friend beside you.

#ggs.fics #series.s&ts #suguru geto #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fics #geto x you #geto x reader #geto suguru #eventually i promise bro truuustt

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cloud9gojo · 10 months ago

Text

salt & the sea

consider this a one-shot for now, i really just wanted to get this prologue style chapter for my self-infsert suguru fic out there it was eating me alive. this is so on a whim, i don't have a header, nor do i expect anyone to actually read this lol. if you do like it, hmu @peachygf

pairing: geto x f!reader if we ever make it there

words: 4.2k

warnings: sfw they're kids bro, sign language, synesthesia, kid awkwardness, me being awkward, there ya go

also made a playlist for this but it's on apple music 😭 lmk if you're into that and i can convert it or smth

______________________________________________________________

December 1997

The morning of December 27th in the Inumaki household was chaotic.

Some months prior, it was decided that the disgraced, elder Inumaki son, Miharu, and his family would be offered redemption through certain means. During July, in the southern part of Japan, a sorcerer with the potential to become a special grade was discovered. They had no family lineage and the powers-that-be would have your family introduce them to jujutsu society. The order had been passed down that they would train alongside the son's eldest child, in both theory and practical study, until they attended Jujutsu High at fourteen years of age. That is if they survived that long.

So when your parents sit you down and make you promise to be on your best behavior, to not antagonize, make fun of, or laugh at your guests or there would be consequences, dirty dishwater-related consequences, you say yes. You promise them you will be good, nice, and welcoming.

At first, it was easy because it was exciting! Everyone (except Akari, who was drooling in her crib) was bustling with frantic energy, cleaning, and then going over the entire house. Making sure everything was in its place; flowers in the foyer, record playing in the living room, new sake ready to be opened on the counter. You even tolerated your little sister's incessant babbling and following afternoon tantrums with a great attitude. Granted, you couldn't hear her cries at full volume, but still, you were a good sport about the whole thing. You were more focused on the idea of training with another sorcerer your age and what gifts your parents might bring back from their visit to Jujutsu High in Tokyo next month. It was going to be a good new year.

When your guests arrived, your family had arranged themselves at your home's entrance. A poised, respectable sorcerer family welcoming a newly awakened sorcerer and their parents. Who you knew from peaking at your parents' signing during movie night, were normal humans, not a trace of cursed energy on them. (Your parents should really be more careful where they sign.)

Greeting the couple was nice and normal enough, you were bright and of course, the perfect host. You interpreted for your parents perfectly, like you had been doing for the majority of your life, "The Inumaki's are honored to be coordinating your child's sorcerer training."

"The honor is ours, thank you for allowing us into your home. Why, it's so beautiful!" Mrs. Geto's voice was soft to your ears, but the color of it radiated a light pink that settled neatly in the air around her. Her smile was sly, but inviting. She reminded you of a fox, especially with the way her updo gave her two bumps on her head that looked like little ears. You pursed your mouth to match hers and decided to keep that happy little thought to yourself.

You spared a glance at their son who had at first sight seemed ordinary like you. His bow was short and curt, his name lost to your wooden flooring. Only when prompted by his mother did he repeat it, "Geto Suguru. Pleased to meet you." The sound waves around him bent the light strangely, making the shadows curl around him even though the foyer was well-lit.

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, soft like his mother's but not at all like the soft pink she gave off. The color of his voice was deep indigo and unnerving. The waves refused to settle, creating a dark corona around the boy. It had you straightening your back, setting your shoulders up, back, and then down at attention.

"Inumaki. Pleased to meet you." Your bow wasn't as low as it should have been, but you had your eyes trained on him, making sure you saw every single movement.

The Getos, you're sure, were impressed with you either way. Especially with how grown up you were for a child your age (it's what every other adult seemed to say after meeting you). It was only natural, you were a jujutsu sorcerer after all. Or at least on your way to being a first-grade one. Right now though, all you were was a seven-year-old being told to make nice with some stranger.

"Go play, try to be friendly. You're going to be spending more time together soon." Your father's usually composed signing was rushed as he ushered you both through the backdoor and hurried to get back to where your guests were seated in the living room. His anxiety was visible, he had been going on and on about this day for a month straight. Finally, he would be respected again. (Or something like that, you tried not to peer in on your parents' private conversations in their bedroom. Most of the time.)

You were pretty sure he was happier to share his special sake and show off his vintage record collection than to talk about jujutsu society, those poor, poor people. They would have to get by on pen-and-paper conversations and charades with your tipsy parents while you were exiled outside with their son.

Alarm bells start ringing in your head finally being alone with him. He was just a little kid like you, all knobby knees and awkward limbs, but you could tell he was powerful. You don't know whether to run from him or fight him. You struggle, momentarily stuck to your spot, but ultimately decide against fighting. You would be going in blind and set a bad first impression.

Both of you stand apart, facing out into your backyard. A small garden that your mother keeps up is in the center, while the rest grows tall and wild around an old patio set towards the far right corner. A desire path is starting to form along the edges from your many trips back and forth from the beach that was just beyond the green belt of tall grasses at the end of your property. You let your eyes trace it as you chew on your lip, considering how to befriend this boy beside you.

You don't know what he can do exactly, only seeing your parents discuss it once in passing; Cursed Manipulation. What things he could manipulate was a mystery, all you knew was that you didn't want it to be you. Your mind screamed danger! but you had to get to know this strange boy, now that you were going to start training with him in the new year. After your eighth birthday, so you could still have time with your family before getting serious.

You pout and think of how your father had made you promise to be nice this morning. But you didn't feel like playing outside with this weird, jittery kid now! You wanted to cry, it was either this or dish duty for a month and you would rather die than touch nasty dishwater. So you make down the steps into the yard two at a time, in a huff, only partially caring if Geto follows you or not. (He does, with his hands in his pockets, taking his sweet time.)

Walking into the garden, you watch the air ripple with little bursts of color in every step. When you reach the patio set, you plop down facing the tall grasses at the back. It gives you a view of the sunset peaking through the blades, pale yellow into a muted blue sky.

Geto wiggles his chair out from under the table and positions it to face the same way as yours. He all but falls backward into it, releasing a long sigh when he settles. You sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye. He's slouching so much, you're surprised he's still on the cushion, but he looks content to be watching the sky. You turn to watch little bugs flitter through the evening air. The beating hum of their wings gave off tiny warm yellow waves. At least they were a nice distraction from your present company.

"So, are you going to tell me your name?"

His voice almost makes you jump out of your seat. When you face him, he has his cocked to the side, a bored expression on his face. You masterfully pull yours into a kind expression, no dirty dishes for you. "Inumaki, remember?" You say it sweetly, to make up for the fact that it's not the answer he's looking for. You're not dumb, you know what he's asking you, but you don't want him to know your first name. Not yet, at least.

Geto scowls before turning away from you once again.

You sigh in frustration, you had been looking forward to having a friend, someone like you who wasn't three, stinky, and drooling. (Sorry to your sister, but she was just not very fun right now.) You were fighting an uphill battle of social awkwardness with Suguru Geto and losing. You weren't used to failing, ever. If this is how it's going to be between you both, then what would training look like in the spring?

Your parents believe you're being a good host, so that's some good-daughter points for you. Ugh, but if you don't try, then nothing is going to change between you both and you'll be stuck with your stinky sister your whole life. Yuck! You conclude that you can't rely on him to make the first move. You're the host, you make the conversation. It doesn't mean that Suguru Geto is going to be your best friend, but maybe you can get a powerful ally out of him. You perk up in your seat, yeah, you could make that work!

Working together with other sorcerers is important long term, if you're going to persevere in and preserve the jujutsu world. Maybe, if you tell him about when you first got your cursed technique, it'll make him feel more comfortable.

The thing is, you don’t really remember when your technique manifested.

You remember the heat and stickiness of the day. It must have been late summer, in the rainy season. A rare sunny day, no clouds in sight, spent at the park near your home. Your very pregnant mother sitting down watching you, laughing along with your high-pitched giggles. The red of the picnic table was a streak in your vision as you flew through the air on the swings, pushed higher and higher by your father. Silent, wearing a mask to cover his clan markings, but happy.

It was so, so hot that day, and the humidity had turned your hair into a frizzy mess. Sweat caused it and your clothes to stick to you uncomfortably, but you didn’t care. The sky was so blue and clear, and the air so crisp. You could see the expanse of the horizon at the top of your swing and the urge to jump was too great, you were weightless when you threw yourself from the seat.

You remember how the sky burst into color halfway down, how everything thrummed with color and strange vibrations. It was so pretty that you screamed with joy at the sight of sound waves emanating from everything. It was exactly how your mother described how she saw the world through her technique. The overload of visual information then clouded over the fact that everything was quieter. Like the volume set at full was dialed down quicker than your little brain could register.

You were only four or five when that happened. Suguru Geto, seven, is a late bloomer by jujutsu standards. The thought makes you want to laugh, but you hold it in and then calmly release it as a breath of air. Whew, that was close.

The evening was turning into night and the wind was cold against your arms causing goosebumps. Pieces of your hair were flying around your face, getting caught in your glasses and mouth. You sputter and push it back behind your ears for the hundredth time, even now it refuses to stay in place. You notice the indigo of Geto's sneaky giggles more than you can hear them.

"Are you laughing at me?" Geto, looking unashamed about being caught, meets your eyes only once before turning to watch the swaying grasses. You frown and follow his gaze, yup, still grass and sky. Beyond that was the color of the distant sound waves from the water crashing against the sand, although you know Geto can't see them like you could. You turn to face him once more, wishing he would at least try to keep eye contact with you. Or make conversation. Or do anything besides stare at stupid beach grass!

"You sound kinda funny." He tells you this very casually, like it's not the first thing he's said that wasn't a greeting or a question.

You blink at him, incredulous. "I don't get to use my voice that often." You're fully facing him now, bracing yourself on the patio chair's arm.

"Is it because your parents use their hands to talk?"

Did he really just ask you that?

"Yes."

"Oh."

Be nice, be nice, be nice. "My father can't speak because of his technique and my mother and I have some hearing loss from our own so it just makes sense for us to use sign," you manage, after a lengthy pause.

“Oh.”

He’s still not facing you, have you done something wrong that you missed? Your family wasn’t exactly the most social, maybe it was you. Were you the one being weird? You can’t tell if he's being mean or not, but you also don't know why he would be mean to you in the first place so maybe you're overthinking it. You've never made a friend before, but surely it can't be this hard.

"When you see curses, are you afraid of them?" When he says it he doesn't face you so you have to read his lips to make out the parts you miss.

You take a moment to mull it over. "No, I already know some defensive techniques so I think I could protect myself. Low-level ones I feel like I could kill easily." You smile at that, remembering how your parents said your barrier technique was very strong for your age. It made you happy that you had a sound-related technique like your mom. You liked being like her, strong and beautiful, but also kind. (You were still working on that last part.)

"What about the stronger ones? Would you run or fight?" This time when he says it, Geto's gaze is so steady, you couldn't escape it if you wanted to. His pale face was open and honest.

"I'd fight." You try to keep your face earnest and keep eye contact, you want him to know you're being truthful. When you focus on them, his eyes are a dark amber framed by straight, long eyelashes. (Annoying, how boys always got pretty lashes without even having to try.)

Geto presses his lips into a thin line before casting his eyes back to the horizon past the grass. "I'd run."

You giggle at that, trying to imagine this string bean of a boy running from some scary curse. "I guess we'll have to work on that when we see each other again in the new year. Right?" You smile when he looks back at you. If you relax and keep making conversation, then training will go well the next time you meet. Having him warm up to you also means a boost to your strength, in the end.

Which means you have to be good at this making friends thing. You want to be good at it, for your parents who rely on you to carry on their legacy. For your sister, who will look up to you as you both get older. And for this new kid, who has no one else in his family like him. Who was assigned to the closest sorcerer family available so that he's prepared for jujutsu society—your family. Maybe, you think, you could be good for him and whip him into shape by the time you both attend Jujutsu High and start taking missions.

He blinks a few too many times before slouching even more than you thought possible, (looking at his posture was making your neck ache) and giving you a small, "Sure."

Another beat of silence, and you think he's going to let this one stretch out before he asks another question. "So why can't your dad talk?"

You laugh at his bold line of questioning this time, "My dad comes from a long line of cursed speech users. That's why his mouth has those little markings, even though they're a little faded. They're the symbol of our family, the Inumakis." You decide not to tell Geto why your father's marks are faded or why he jumped at the opportunity to sponsor him. That's all stressful, adult stuff.

"And your mom? She can talk, but doesn't?" Geto arches his eyebrow at you and you wonder, does he know that it lets you know he's asking a question? He's already good at nonverbal communication, you don't have to think too hard about what he means when he's facing you.

You shake your head and lift yourself up from your seat with great effort, ready to head back towards your house. "My mom and I can talk, but it's easier when we can all just sign what we mean, together." It's a simple explanation, you hope he accepts it.

Geto pulls himself from his seat to follow you, this time side by side. "What's her technique like?"

You suck air into your cheeks, making a big show of contemplating your answer. "My mother has control over sound and pressure waves at the molecular level." You take your time sounding out the complicated words, you don't actually know what pressure, let alone molecular means. "She can create barriers with sound the same way I can. We can also see the sound waves in the air. My brain is so used to it though that I don't even focus on that anymore. Like when your brain ignores your nose, you know?" You crinkle your nose at him, twitching the tip of it like a bunny. It makes him laugh and you smile, you like the color of it much more than normal conversation. "But because we can see all that stuff, our hearing isn't as strong as other peoples. It doesn't feel any different though, I don't remember a time before it."

You've never had to say all these big words out loud before, you catch Geto laughing at the way you're pronouncing some of them. You tut disapprovingly at him but laugh with him also. You probably do sound a little funny.

He hums and swings his hands back and forth, the effort making his t-shirt sway on his frame like a big pillowcase. "Is it only barriers you can make with sound?"

You hum, thoughtful. "I haven't really tried anything else, but that's why I'm excited to train with you in the spring!"

"Is that what you think we'll be working on when we see each other next?"

You focus on the way he shapes his vowels, how they stretch and flow, before looking back at his eyes. "Mmm, probably not. My dad will make us start with the basics of cursed energy and breathing techniques. Prepare for lots of meditating, my dad loves to put on his jazz music every morning for stretches and quiet time, it's awful. Let's see what else..." You tap your chin, thinking. "Then we might move on to basic fighting forms, which I've barely gotten to practice." You see the familiar notes of your father's records seep from the house as you get closer to the steps of your porch. When you reach them, you each take a seat next to each other.

Geto smiles at you, like his mother it's sly, but more smug than anything. More music escapes into the air behind him as faint swirls of color. Pretty, you think. "I'm already pretty good at fighting, I take after-school lessons. Or, at least I used to." His brow furrows at that last sentence. Suddenly displeased, he turns to stare at the ants crossing near your feet.

You note the shift with a frown. You've never been to a regular school, you've been taught by your mom and dad your whole life. Math, science, reading, all that boring stuff. You've never experienced public school, so you don't know exactly what it is that Geto might miss.

This is an exciting opportunity for you and your family, something you were looking forward to and happy about. Getting to introduce someone to jujutsu society is a great honor, but it doesn't seem like that's how it is for Geto. You lean forward to try and catch his eyes again. "Are you going to miss it?"

He eyes you from behind his dark hair, debating his answer. "I'm going to miss my teacher and my friends. I thought we would all be together until high school or something like that." He closes his eyes and takes a breath. You see his lip shake more than you can hear the quiver in his voice. "I didn't ask to be a sorcerer."

Something hard has formed in your throat watching this boy you were just laughing with almost cry in front of you. You force it down and take a moment to think about what it was like moments after your technique manifested. Chaotic, too bright all at once, and then quiet. You definitely started crying at some point after your joy turned to fear. But your parents had never hid their culture from you, so curses and cursed energy weren't anything new. It was more overwhelming than scary.

Before you can try to comfort Geto, the backdoor slides open and a flurry of color fills your vision. Your mother stands in the doorway, jovial and laughing until seeing Geto's expression.

"What's going on?" She steps forward, displeased.

You jump up to try and rectify the situation. "We were just talking about his school!"

Your mother purses her lips and looks between you both now that Geto is standing on the step above you. "We'll discuss this later. Come inside and say goodbye."

You whine and hang your head in defeat knowing you can't sway your mother. "Yes, ma'am."

You look at Geto and motion for him to go inside first. "Mom says that they're finished. Let's go."

You suck in your lip, chewing on your unspoken words, and trudge into the house behind him. You watch the trail of indigo his footsteps leave behind, he must scuff his feet along the floor. Something pangs in your chest, you don't want him to leave you sad or mad at you. Before that mess about school, you started to get along.

Before he can get too far away from you, you reach out to tug on his shirt. "Geto, wait."

His hands are in his pockets and he's slouching so much you're surprised he's still upright, but he gazes you over his shoulder with an arched brow, a silent acknowledgment.

You drop your hand back to your side, letting go of his shirt. "I just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to seeing you. Next time, you know? This is all new for me, I've never trained with anyone my age so I want this to go well. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings asking about your school." You cringe at how it all spills out. Much too fast and eager, you're not used to speaking out loud so much. But, it gets him to turn fully towards you before entering the foyer.

"I know, Inumaki-san. I'm happy to be training with you too, but leaving my friends and everything else behind isn't easy. Not for me, anyway."

You stare back at him, wanting to comfort him all over again, but all that comes out is, "Okay." You want to smack yourself, you are so lame.

For some reason, he lets a hint of a smile come over his face. "Okay." He nods before continuing, "I'll see you in the new year."

With that, both of you enter the foyer to be with your parents. You skip past Geto so you can be by your parents' side to interpret their goodbyes. You preen as your father smooths your hair back with his hand. Its warm familiar weight settles on your shoulder. You did a good job tonight, making Geto feel welcome to the best of your ability. However socially awkward you were, you got him to have a solid conversation with you. Next time will be even better.

The three of you walk them out and down the steps of your home. It's later than you thought it was and you're starting to get sleepy. You return Geto's little wave through the glass window of his parents' car.

When you get back inside, you make your parents wait with you until you see the lights of the Geto's car fade from view before you turn off the porch lights. Your father carries you to bed, and your mother tucks you in and sings you a lullaby. Your sister is already asleep in her bed next to yours. It was a good night, you think before letting your heavy eyelids rest.

When you finally drift off into sleep, your dreams are full of inky indigos and soft pink clouds, with little foxes jumping between their misty hiding spots while you giggle watching them.

#suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #geto x you #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #EVENTUALLY IF WE EVER GET THERE!#suguru geto #jjk #jjk fics #ggs.fics #oof im scared marty fuck it we ball #series.s&ts

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