Chapter Text
The Tokyo Jujutsu High first year dorms are nicer than Yuuji would have expected. Traditional and well-cared for, with discreet modern electrical fixtures that mimic their surroundings. There's a mini-fridge built into a cabinet; it's stocked with water and chocolate protein bars. Yuuji's already chowing down on one before he checks the time. A note in handwriting too cute to be Gojo's outlines communal mealtimes, vending machine snack options, and the walking distance to a few local restaurants outside the school's arrays, just a trip down the foothill stairs and a long walk away. Underlined is the message that the school is not within the restaurants' delivery zone, don't even try!
Behind him, his poster falls off the wall, the tape holding it up giving up the ghost after having been used previously on the walls back home.
Yuuji unlocks his phone, scrolling through the list of recent calls before hitting the contact last called two months ago. They're not habitual callers, he and his mom.
The call connects after a few rings. "Hi, mom!"
"Yuuji, my baby," he hears in return. It's enough to make him smile despite the reason for the call. After everything, it feels good to hear a familiar voice.
Yuuji tilts his head so that the phone is trapped against his shoulder, hands now free. Mom's never minded being put on speaker, but sometimes people get the wrong message when they overhear Kaori out of context. He's not sure how thin the walls are here. Far easier to nip that in the bud. "I wanted to tell you that grandpa died yesterday. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier."
Kaori offers a sound that Yuuji chooses to interpret as concern. "I understand. His health was failing for years, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Yuuji's throat feels tight. He finishes off the rest of the protein bar in one bite, following it up with water. In retrospect, the flavor is pretty bad, but he's been hungry. "I laid his bones to rest in the family plot alongside dad's and grandma's. I left him flowers. Big bouquet, he would have hated it. The nurses at the hospital gave it to me."
"Did he manage to charm them in his final days?" Kaori sounds doubtful.
Yuuji huffs, lips tugging up. "Nah, I think that was all me."
"You're certainly good at that. Are you grieving? Don't grieve too long."
"He wouldn't have wanted me to." Balancing the phone, Yuuji unstacks the boxes that make up his belongings. No kitchen utensils came with the dorm room, so he pries the boxes open with his nails, which seem to have gotten sharper since Yuuji last noticed them. He hopes his nail clippers are somewhere in the boxes. "I still miss him."
Kaori's care has always been a finite thing. "He had a long enough life. I expected him to die years ago with the way he smoked."
"So did he. Grandpa always said he was shocked he lived this long." This statement was usually followed up by how he's only staying alive out of spite for his daughter-in-law. Yuuji leaves that part out to keep the peace. It comes in waves, the grief; in this one, Yuuji realizes that there's no need for peace anymore. His grandpa is beyond reach.
All the boxes now open, Yuuji finds his satchel of school supplies and the tape inside it, throwing it into the air with a sense of accomplishment. Take that, old, unreliable tape!
"Eternity is largely outside the grasp of humans, your grandfather included," Kaori agrees. "What will you do now?"
"I'm in, uh…"
A mild case of panic sets in. Is he supposed to talk about the school to outsiders? Do parents count as outsiders? Surely not. Yuuji's thumb grazes a sharp corner of the tape dispenser before he drops it onto the bed. He starts in on taking the old tape off the poster, replacing it with new.
In all things that pique their interest, Kaori is relentless. "Tell me. You don't want to worry me, do you?"
"Wouldn't dare!" Yuuji quickly confirms. His mom gets intense when they're worried. "Uh, how much do you know about jujutsu?"
"I've forgotten more about jujutsu than most sorcerers ever learn. Have you gotten caught up in their little society?"
"Mom," Yuuji groans. "You kept all of this secret?"
"You should blame Wasuke, too. The guilt is shared."
"I can't really blame him for anything now." Yuuji breathes through the spike of grief. Grandpa wouldn't want him to cry again. Mom would end the call. They're not good in emotional moments. Instead, he eyes his wall for the perfect spot, smoothing the tape down onto the plaster. When he steps back, it's slightly crooked, but that's familiar, too. Just like it should be even in new surroundings.
"Tell me how this came to be." The words are said pleasantly but firmly.
Yuuji stops fiddling with the poster immediately. "It all began when my occult club buddies—"
"Sasaki Setsuko and Iguchi Takeshi."
"Yeah!" Yuuji's always pleased when his mom takes an interest in his life. It might be weird to others, being that he's never told his mom his classmates' names, but he's pretty sure that Itadori Kaori is just all-knowing.
"Did they put my child in danger?"
"It's more like they put themselves in danger."
"That's fine, then."
Yuuji winces preemptively. "And I went in to help them."
"Less fine. Their lives aren't worth it."
"I survived! So what happened is that we found a cursed finger in a box and right after grandpa died they opened it at the school and the finger got eaten by a powerful curse! Fushiguro and I—oh, Fushiguro is a first year at Jujutsu High and maybe my new best friend, too soon to say—defeated it. Sasaki and Iguchi are alright! And I ate the finger, you know to defeat the curse."
There's a pause that Yuuji chooses not to read into. "As edifying as always. I take it that since I'm speaking to you and not Sukuna, he didn't immediately devour your soul."
"I don't feel like he did. I'd notice it, right?"
Yuuji's sitting cross-legged on his bed. In the poster, Lena from Beach Days of Our Lives, a long-running soap opera he'd gotten hooked on while visiting his grandpa at the hospital, smiles down at him. He can't imagine someone with a devoured soul getting the impulse to smile back at the poster, as ever charmed by how cute Lena is with her season one looks. All else aside, Yuuji still feels like himself. When he pinches his arm, it's just his own pain hitting his pain receptors, his own limbs that he stretches out in front of him.
"You would notice it," Kaori replies, something complicated in their tone. "As would I."
"That's what I thought." Yuuji sets about to unpacking the boxes, starting with the one filled with clothes. He has too much energy. Always has. He's put it to good use at the gym, escaping long hours otherwise spent alone at home, and now it looks like he'll get to punch some curses about it. He's looking forward to it more than he'd like to admit. "I haven't encountered him. Sukuna that is — he hasn't shown up. Gojo-sensei says that I'm his vessel, that he'll come out to terrorize me sooner or later no matter how good I am at restraining him."
Kaori hums. "Do you find this accurate?"
Yuuji doesn't reply immediately. He trusts his sensei as much as you can trust someone in this situation. It's only that his instincts rarely steer him wrong and his instincts say, "No. It's me, all the way down. I know how it sounds but… that's how it feels."
"I believe you."
Yuuji breathes a sigh of relief. For all that his mom is kind of weird, they take him seriously when it matters.
"Do you feel any different?"
Yuuji pokes absently at his stomach. Does he? "Don't think so. I'm hungry, but it's almost dinnertime."
"I'll send you a little care package. You're a growing boy."
"Is this like when you sent me a package of cookies three years ago?"
"The poison wouldn't have affected you and your bully of a teacher should have known not to steal from your lunch. He learned his lesson."
So did Yuuji. He was lucky it was only his teacher affected, who even Yuuji couldn't defend. Bullying aside, he gave Yuuji the creeps, and Yuuji wasn't surprised when he was fired from the school for undisclosed reasons a year later. Still, the experience taught Yuuji better than to offhandedly complain to his mom about anyone in his life unless he wanted them indisposed or worse.
There's movement on the other end of the line. "In fact, I'll start packing it right now. Savory or sweet?"
"Both! Do you have the address?" Belatedly, Yuuji realizes, "I don't have the address. Can we even get mail here…"
"Don't worry about such things. I always know where you are. More so now."
"Great!" That's a relief. If there's no food delivery to the school, Yuuji doesn't want to think about what mail delivery must be like. His mom will figure it out. Clothes put away, Yuuji steps out into the hallway. "Sorry, I gotta go. It's almost dinnertime and I'm going to see if I can get Fushiguro to leave his room. Maybe Gojo-sensei will join us, too!"
"He won't," comes Fushiguro's voice from behind his door.
"Oh, he won't," Yuuji sighs. Disappointing, but he'll live.
"Keep me updated, won't you, Yuuji?"
"I will!"
Once the call ends, Fushiguro's door slides open to reveal Yuuji's new classmate. He looks better without the bandages, dressed in a casual sweatshirt. Yuuji rocks on his heels with enthusiasm. "Fushiguro! You coming to dinner?"
"Who was that on the phone?"
"My mom."
"I thought you were an orphan."
"Not exactly." Sticking his hands in his pockets, Yuuji adds, "I could tell you about it on the way to dinner if you want. It's not a secret or anything."
"Alright. I bet you don't even know where the dining hall is."
"I know it exists! I thought I'd wander around until I found it. There can't be too many buildings."
"You'd be surprised."
Switching shoes, they head out. It's cooler now in the evening, the air clearer than it was back home. Yuuji has to wonder if it's due to the nearby mountain or it's a jujutsu thing, jujutsu monks going around clearing the air so that they can catch curses easier. When he asks Fushiguro, he says that's not a thing, but he also adds that people do weird shit with jujutsu all the time. Yuuji's just excited to one day join the ranks of people with cool powers.
Before too long, they're joined on the path by Gojo, who redirects them to his home instead of the communal dining hall. Yuuji can't deny being excited to see him again, even though it's only been a few hours he last laid eyes on the man. In the last twenty-four hours, Gojo's threatened him and joked with him, made light of the execution order and stayed by his side as Yuuji gathered his grandfather's bones. The whiplash is enough to send anyone reeling, but Yuuji's always been a bit of an idiot, so it's toward Gojo that his momentum takes him instead.
"Don't bother with the dining hall or you'll be surrounded by old bores," Gojo says, cheerfully. He rests one hand on Yuuji's shoulder, the other on Fushiguro's. Yuuji's easily redirected, moving along with Gojo's tug.
Fushiguro shrugs off Gojo's hand. "I already am."
Gojo isn't deterred. "Yuuji, did you hear what he called you?"
"I was referring to you!"
Despite his annoyance, Fushiguro follows along, crossing over to stand to Yuuji's other side instead of next to Gojo. For his part, Yuuji notes when Gojo's hand falls away from his shoulder, the motion casual even if Yuuji's thoughts aren't quite. Sue him, his sensei's entirely too attractive. Having previously had mostly nice but boring teachers, Yuuji's excited to finally join the ranks of students having to hide their leering from their teacher's eyes.
"I told my mom I was living here," Yuuji says on the walk to Gojo's house as a way of fulfilling his promise to Fushiguro.
Gojo's head turns to Yuuji's direction. So does his gaze; Yuuji can feel it even if he can't see it. "Itadori Kaori, who was reported missing fifteen years ago?"
There's an assumption often made that Itadori Kaori being officially long missing means that Yuuji hasn't been in contact with them. It's a reasonable assumption. Not quite true. "We talk sometimes, me and mom. Not very often! They're busy."
"With what?"
"Dunno. Mom explained it once when I was a kid, but I didn't understand it well. They're some kind of scientist. They got back in contact when I was five, visit once a year or so." Yuuji kicks absently at the path as he walks. "We're not—" close, he means to say, but that's not exactly it. It's hard to describe his relationship with his mom. He never knows what to say. "I wasn't going to live with them even if I hadn't come here."
Gojo hums. "Not something most teens could manage."
"It wouldn't have been that different," Yuuji replies, shrugging. "Grandpa taught me how to take care of myself." One of those lessons was not to lean too much on his mom, however much that's true. He wonders if he should warn Gojo about his mom, but figures it's not needed. Gojo's the strongest, he'll be fine.
Fushiguro's obviously been at Gojo's house previously; he stalks on off ahead when Gojo offers to show him the second years' group chat response to what he calls a humiliating beat-down. Fushiguro's back disappears into the woods up ahead.
"Can I see it?" Yuuji asks, curiosity getting to him.
Gojo returns his phone to his pocket, screen still dark. "Well, in truth the photo's lighting was too poor to send. They would have made fun of my photography skills instead. I couldn't have that."
Yuuji can't help but laugh. His teacher's a jerk. A hot one, it's true, and one who saved him from the noose, but he's nothing like the kindly teachers at Yuuji's former school. "Is that the line in the sand? Public humiliation?"
"It is these days. I'm the adult here, you see. I shouldn't be humiliating teenagers." Gojo sounds like he's quoting someone, then he adds, "They're capable of doing that all on their own."
Yuuji's certainly made a fool of himself plenty of times. He doesn't mind it too much, but he figures Fushiguro is the type who does. "Maybe I'm biased, but it wasn't embarrassing for him to help me. It was brave. He thought he was going to die and he stuck around anyway."
"Foolishness and bravery do tend to go hand in hand."
"You were brave, too, sensei! You tried to face Sukuna head-on, then later you went against the higher ups." Even though Sukuna never appeared, Yuuji would always remember how Fushiguro looked when he put his hands up to summon his shikigami and fight, and how Gojo demanded for the king of curses to come out.
"What? No." Gojo doesn't entertain the thought, the shake of his head sharp. "I hardly needed bravery for a battle I knew I'd win. I don't appreciate senseless death. The higher ups are on thin ice on that count."
Yuuji's not quite sure what his teacher means by that. There's a certain darkness underlying Gojo's words. With Kaori, Yuuji's learned to reflexively redirect lest the conversation devolve too much. With Gojo… it's like his partially covered face just adds to the bonfire of Yuuji's curiosity. It's right there next to the bonfire of Yuuji's attraction, both dangerously bright. It's only Yuuji's first day at Tokyo Jujutsu High. He can't help but wonder just how much brighter, bigger both could get.
For a moment, Gojo's gaze is weightier than usual, as though he's looking right through Yuuji. Or at least he's trying to. "Have you encountered Sukuna yet?"
Yuuji shakes his head. "Still nothing. Head's as empty as it was yesterday."
"Interesting."
"Do you think it's a good interesting or a bad one? I keep imagining him popping out at me from street corners."
In contemplation, Gojo rubs his chin. "He'd do it from inside your head, at least."
Nah, he wouldn't, Yuuji thinks, but there's no proof behind the surety. Nothing to point to, nothing to give weight to it. He can't cite instinct with Gojo like he can with his mom. "I'll keep a lookout."
"What is it?"
Yuuji must sound unconvinced. He throws an inquisitive look Gojo's way. "Are you sure he's real, this Sukuna guy?"
Gojo looks flummoxed. "Of course he's real."
"There's plenty of artifacts around of dubious origin. More bones attributed to a saint in various shrines and museums than the saint could've possibly had, that sort of thing. Who's to say this Sukuna guy isn't a collection of random fingers all lumped together under the same name?"
"The identical cursed energy for one," Gojo says, slipping temporarily into the tones of a teacher. It only puts it in contrast how unteacherly he seemed before. "With my cursed technique, I can see deep within a person or a cursed object and recognize their cursed technique. No two people could have the same cursed energy."
Yuuji nods. "So it is all one guy."
"The guy being Sukuna."
"Has anyone actually seen Sukuna, though?" The more he looks for Sukuna, the more he's half convinced that Sukuna is a boogeyman that people made up to share stories of around campfires. Is a monster still a monster if it's only a myth?
Gojo continues to indulge Yuuji's train of thought. "He hasn't incarnated since the Heian period. That doesn't mean he's not real. But I like a crackpot theory. Go on, try to prove it. You have the time. You can look up the historical record."
Yuuji's never been partial to history lessons. Besides, "Mom says historical records are all just gossip rags in nicer script."
"Shall we place a bet on it? Your theory versus all of jujutsu history? How much do you want to lose?" It's said like a guy who has too much money, all casual enthusiasm for throwing money around.
Yuuji has a better idea. "You liked the kikufuku, right? I could make you some if I lose. Grandma had the best recipe for the roasted green tea and cream flavor."
Gojo slows down, his long stride shortening. There's a sudden interest overshadowing his expression, one Yuuji last saw on the train to the school, when Gojo ate the store-bought desserts. "What do you want in return?"
"The same." Yuuji's not a sweets fiend, but he'd never turn down a free dessert.
Nonplussed, Gojo says, "I can't bake. Are you sure you don't want me to put money on it instead?"
"Yeah," Yuuji says, grinning at the way Gojo looks put out to not have to pay. "I'm not changing my mind."
Gojo puts on a sigh; it's a big one, and Yuuji can't help but notice the way it travels down his chest. "I assume you'll take pictures of the horror. Revenge on Megumi's behalf. A well-deserved public humiliation."
What a weirdo, Yuuji thinks, but even the thought comes out warm. He can't help it; even knowing that Gojo's sword hangs over his neck for when Yuuji's finished consuming the cursed fingers, Yuuji's unable to hang back, to not find him interesting or easy to talk to. "Nah. It's not about that. I'll teach you how to make a better batch. Everyone should know how to make one good dessert."
With a bemused sort of look, Gojo says, "I'll hold you to it, then. It won't come to it."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Yuuji says, running a hand through his hair. "It's fun to imagine anyway, isn't it? A world that never had Sukuna."
"You're a weird kid. I like it."
Even with Gojo's long strides, it takes a while for them to arrive to his home. It's out of the way, the barrier zone around the school much larger than Yuuji realized.
Gojo ushers him in with a standing invitation to drop by anytime. "Let yourself in whenever, raid the fridge. I remember what it was like to be a teenager. That bland, boring communal dining hall will drive you to seek out better meals. I keep this place well-stocked."
Fushiguro pokes his head out from what Yuuji assumes is the kitchen. "You took forever. And you mean Ijichi does, not you."
Toeing off his shoes, Gojo says, "I pay him, he pays someone else, the world goes 'round and I'm kept in groceries. I'm far too busy to do my own shopping, Megumi."
"You wouldn't even know how to shop," Fushiguro grumbles.
"Do you really live here, Gojo-sensei?" Yuuji asks, looking around.
"What, doesn't it look like it?"
"Not really," Yuuji replies. It's very nice, very organized, very… boring. A traditional facade that matches the rest of the buildings within the barrier, and an interior that comes together cleanly but without heart. "There's not even any art."
"I admit I used to spend more of my time at another residence. Megumi knows that one better."
Yuuji turns his head to Fushiguro. "Really?"
Fushiguro glares silently in Gojo's direction.
"Didn't I mention? I'm his—"
"If you say father, I'm going to kill you."
"—benefactor!"
Yuuji looks between the two of them, then only at Gojo when Fushiguro disappears back into the kitchen. "What's a benefactor?"
Predictably, it's Gojo who answers, the door to the kitchen sliding firmly shut. "Megumi here is my ward. He's been in my care since he was six years old. He was much cuter at that age."
"No way! Fushiguro is cute at any age." Even as he says it, Yuuji's looking toward Gojo.
At the way Gojo's lips curl up. "No compliments for your host, Yuuji?"
"Aaa." Yuuji can't call what exits his mouth words. More like the human equivalent of the blue screen of death. Yuuji's frozen in the entrance hallway alongside his teacher. "You have a nice… style…" If you asked Yuuji what color Gojo's jacket was, he wouldn't have been able to remember it.
That same jacket that's being unzipped alongside Yuuji's sanity. "I like to get comfortable when I'm home."
Yuuji nods. His gaze doesn't move from the tight white undershirt that Gojo is revealing. "Right. Yeah."
"You can take your hoodie off if it's too hot."
Yuuji clutches onto his hoodie like it's the only thing saving him from extinction. "I'm good. I'll go help Fushiguro in the kitchen."
Fushiguro's sanity isn't slipping through his fingers unlike Yuuji's; he's just plating food from takeout containers with the air of annoyance that he always seems to have around Gojo. Yuuji understands it better now. It's not fatherly, the vibe, regardless of how many years Gojo must have looked after Fushiguro, but it's still something, familial and weighty under all that annoyance. It means that Fushiguro should never, ever know what Yuuji's been thinking about. To be fair, most of it's not stuff that can be articulated as coherent thoughts. Yuuji just kind of wants to drape all over Gojo in replacement of the jacket that he took off. All normally-like, maybe with some biting.
Glancing over at Yuuji, Fushiguro's grimace deepens. "Did he say something stupid?"
"I wish," Yuuji sighs.
Fushiguro freezes. "I know that kind of sigh!"
Yuuji raises his hands. "It's not what you think!"
It's absolutely what Fushiguro thinks. Worse, Fushiguro seems to know it. Under his breath, he says, "I knew I would have to say this to my classmate, but I thought it would be to the girl who's coming tomorrow. Itadori, if you develop a crush on our sensei, I will smother you in your sleep. I mean it. It's bad enough from strangers. I won't be stuck with it for four years!"
"No crushing," Yuuji agrees, the words coming out fast. "I'm not crushing. I'm just admiring! And going by the look on your face I'm going to stop admiring right now!"
"Itadori…"
"Hey, I'm not…" Yuuji swallows. "I'm not trying to make your life harder, Fushiguro, yeah? We're going to be studying and kicking curses' asses and working hard and all that. I want to be friends."
I'm not even that interested, Yuuji elects not to say, not wanting to make the situation worse by outlining in which exact ways he's interested, largely surrounding whether that white shirt is transparent under any specific lighting. And if it is, how can he get Gojo under that lighting. Wow, Fushiguro's probably right about Yuuji being a perv. The guy has good instincts!
Fushiguro's dark expressions lightens somewhat after Yuuji's plea. "You can bring out the tea."
"I'm on it!"
It's not until Yuuji is back with the cups that Gojo joins them, sliding the door open and stepping through. Yuuji keeps his eyes no lower than Gojo's chin. He's been warned. He'll be good. He briefly breaks his promise when the fit of Gojo's shirt stretches as he sits down at the table. Then since he's already broken it, he breaks it again, just to double check.
Fushiguro kicks him under the table. It's well-earned.
"Thanks for dinner, Gojo-sensei!" Yuuji says. He replays his words afterward to make sure that nothing else came out.
"I could hardly let you starve. Now, why don't you tell us about yourself, Yuuji?"
"Oh, what do you want to know?"
"Everything. Your background check wasn't nearly as thorough as I would have liked it."
"Right! I was born in Sendai and raised by my grandpa, who was really more of a father figure…" Yuuji carries on in this fashion, pausing occasionally when he thinks Gojo might have had enough detail or when he's shoving noodles into his mouth. Yuuji goes through four plates of noodles as he talks. Beside him, Fushiguro's largely silent, even when Yuuji out of nothing else to say slides into a speech about his favorite television shows and which characters he can do voice impressions of. Yuuji gets him out of his shell by talking about video games, which Fushiguro's more a fan of.
It's a good dinner, good company. Gojo packs Yuuji up with the leftovers, Fushiguro denying any interest in taking them with him.
"Is it weird, learning jujutsu from your guardian?" Yuuji asks on the way back to the dorms. Night has properly fallen, just the moon guiding their way. He feels lazy with contentment, his belly full and in anticipation of sleep.
Fushiguro shrugs. "It's all I've known. He's been my teacher as long as he's been my guardian."
"Are your parents…?"
"Gone." Fushiguro pauses there, and Yuuji thinks it's a hard stop before he continues. "My mom is dead. My dad fucked off a long time ago. He might be dead. I haven't… I don't know for sure."
"Mine's gone, too. My mom sent us his urn when I was a kid." Yuuji stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I never asked how he died."
"You should."
"You should."
They exchange a look and Yuuji just barely manages not to laugh. He shouldn't laugh. And then Fushiguro's eyebrow does a thing and Yuuji's laughing anyway, and it's alright because Fushiguro manages a huff of something resembling laughter too.
"I'll ask if you do," Yuuji offers.
"No way." Fushiguro looks away briefly. "I was going to make my sister do it. She's better at things like this."
"Your—"
"I'm going to bed."
They're still walking back to the dorms, no beds in sight. Yuuji just nods. "Same here. I need to get some sleep so that our new classmate doesn't think I'm a loser!" He chatters until Fushiguro's shoulders lose that defensive angle, until he leaves him at his door, goodnight bidden.
Instead of leaving the leftovers in the fridge, Yuuji finishes them off as he finishes unpacking. When Yuuji closes his eyes that night, he thinks of his plate at Gojo's house, picked clean several times in reality but half-eaten in his dream. Two twentieths eaten, maybe, and he rubs at his stomach when it growls. In the morning, he eats a bigger breakfast than he's ever had and heads out with Gojo and Fushiguro to meet the last of the first year students.