Chapter Text
Suguru yawns. The area around the old shrine is mostly abandoned and currently a popular place for a test of courage, which is probably the cause of the curses roaming these woods. After his last unfortunate run in with semi-grade 1 a week ago he felt still a little sore, so Yaga ordered him to stay back. He’d taken care of the veil and kept an eye on the area. While a break was a nice change, waiting for the others to finish off the curses made him feel antsy. Ever since he started Jujutsu High a couple of months back and meeting the famous heir of the Gojo-Clan they had instantly clicked, in good just as in bad ways. They worked well together, if with petty competitiveness at times.
That’s why, despite the aches in his body and the remaining traces of exhaustion, he’d rather be inside the curtain and take them head on, side by side with Satoru.
The trail leading up here is old and overgrown. Some parts of the paving is missing or loose, making it easy to slip when it rains. Lucky for them the sun is still shining brightly, its rays interrupted by leaves that are beginning to change color with the approaching autumn. The golden hue spreading on the sky tells him it’s getting late.
Considering Satoru liked to make short work of curses, their assignment took unusually long. With Yaga present he might just hold back. Even though up to this point Suguru didn’t think anything would be able to tame the other student’s obnoxious way of dealing with things.
At least no one is unfortunate to stumble up here, so he doesn’t need to invent a tragic story for hikers to turn around. How so many curses even invaded this area is still a mystery to him. While tests of courage played with the most primal fears in humans and thus could easily give birth to a curse, it’s the location that’s baffling. There are countless old shrines in Japan more accessible than this one. Let alone it’s close proximity to the school should’ve hampered curse’s activity. His best guess is school trips to a nearby inn, advertising the experience of nature. It wasn’t too far-fetched to imagine teens sneaking out after dark, finding the shrine and leaving spooked after just the right amount of ghost stories. Add in a couple of superstitious tourists and a seedbed for curses is created. It’s nothing new and yet Suguru can’t help the sense of uneasiness.
Someone should’ve taken care of the curse long ago, but he chalks it up to sitting low on the priority list. People had to go missing for things to change, typical. Suguru has no idea if any of the missing hikers are still alive. He hopes so, but finds himself already prepared for the worst.
He sighs. The humid air is starting to dampen his mood. Hopefully they will be done by the time the first clouds approach in a tell-tale sign of a storm.
Briefly Suguru considers sending a low-level curse through the veil, to gain at least an inkling of what’s going on beyond it. Before he can make up his mind however, it dissolves.
“You could’ve given me a warning!” Satoru’s voice drifts towards him. It’s loud and exasperated.
Suguru shakes his head with a smirk. Everything went well then.
“This will teach you some humility,” Yaga words chime in, completely unfazed. “You don’t drop your guard unless the veil goes down.”
Their sensei is the first to squeeze past the crooked hole in the wall, where once a door had sat and now only a collapsed pillar remained. With how tall and broad Yaga was, he’d trouble fitting through the opening. Shoko followed behind him, an expression of pure glee adorning her features.
“Stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Satoru exclaims.
“It’s plenty funny,” Shoko snickers as Satoru climbs through last.
Suguru’s well maintained mask of indifference slips from his face at the sight that greets him. Satoru is covered from head to toe in blood and other bodily fluids he doesn’t want to think about. His hair is tinted red as is the rest of him, only the area around his eyes remains unblemished, where his glasses must’ve caught most of the gunk. Blood has soaked through his clothes and sticks to him like a second skin. Satoru would look like he stumbled out of a horror movie, if his expression hadn’t resembled a drowned cat.
“This is disgusting!” he hollers, ignoring his fellow students completely. Gojo spits, barely missing Shoko’s shoes. “I think I’ve got some in my mouth!”
It’s odd to see Gojo in such a state of despair, fluctuating between bewilderment and revulsion, which is probably why Suguru’s head feels empty as he reaches for the water bottle he brought along because of the unpleasant weather. It’s still half-full and Satoru catches it without looking, when Getou throws it at him. His fellow student glances at him gratefully. This is weird in itself, since Gojo is such a brat most of the time Suguru didn’t even think this emotion was part of his repertoire.
“What happened?” Suguru asks, puzzled.
“Sensei had a damn curse explode right into my face!” Satoru blames their teacher, before he becomes busy with rinsing his mouth and uses the remaining water to clean his face and hands as best as possible. Some red streaks stay stubbornly on his cheeks and even though he looks less like a murder victim, it does little to improve his disturbing appearance.
“The idiot got cocky and dropped his infinity. Sensei had to save his ass,” Shoko explains less flowery, earning a betrayed glance by her classmate.
Suguru raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously?”
All that shit-talk about being strong and out of everybody’s league, just to get almost pummeled by a rookie mistake. Well, at least they now know what happened to the hikers.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Satoru points an accusing finger in his direction. “You are supposed to be the nice one!”
“Says who?” he deadpans.
Satoru’s following betrayed gasp sounds so overacted, Suguru can’t help but roll his eyes. For someone bragging as constantly about his strength as Gojo, a slip-up like this was mind-boggling. While their enemies weren’t much stronger than a grade two and probably wouldn’t have managed to hurt the other severely before he recovered enough to make short work of the cause, Getou was unable to grasp how he hadn’t even activated infinity before getting drenched in blood and guts. If anything had the potential to be Satoru’s downfall, it was his arrogance. For a part he couldn’t be blamed, seeing as his clan must’ve put him onto a pedestal ever since his birth, but the other part was Gojo shamelessly playing into it.
Such a strong sorcerer, one of a kind, and yet he needed saving by one of Yaga’s dolls. The longer he thought about it, the more hilarious the circumstances became. It had already been a while since their last training session in hand-to-hand combat, but Satoru obviously needed a good beating again to be reminded that he wasn’t infallible. Suguru would be happy to assist.
“What are you smirking about?” Satoru narrows his eyes, glancing at him suspiciously.
“Oh, you know,” Suguru’s grin widens. “Just thinking about the look on your face when you got saved by a cutesy doll.”
“Cursed corpse, thank you very much!” Satoru corrects him stubbornly. Even Yaga turns to him, obviously underwhelmed by his student’s reply, seeing as Gojo hadn’t addressed their sensei’s technique by its actual term before.
Satoru wants to add something. Suguru notices it in the indignant curve of his lips, but Shoko cuts him off. “It was a very interesting slide show of triumph, shock, horror and hysterics.”
“Hey!”
Suguru ignored his classmates incensed exclamation and turns to Shoko instead. “Damn, I wish you had taken a picture.”
The girl cackles gleefully. “Me too.”
“You two are awful! I can’t believe I’m punished with classmates like you!” Satoru whines obnoxiously.
Yaga interrupts their squabble at that point and urges them to head back down to the road, where the car was waiting to drive them back to the school. On the way down Suguru and Shoko stick close together, the latter telling him in every detail the events that occurred behind the veil. Lagging behind them and obviously sulking, Gojo shuffles his feet. He has yet to utter another word and Suguru has an educated guess, what he’s trying to accomplish. He leans forward, drawing a little closer to Shoko.
“What do you think how long it will take him to realize that his silence isn’t actually a punishment?” Suguru wonders with amusement.
“With as dense as he his?” the girl smirks. “Probably until we are back at the dorm.”
They snicker conspiratorially.
The overgrown trail soon turns into a road. The car is already waiting for them and urges the students to quicken their pace. Shoko climbs into the vehicle first, letting her head drop against the posh padding of the seat and breathing a sigh of relief. She doesn’t often join them on missions, – her cursed technique far too rare and important to put her at risk, – but has to accompany them occasionally to gain some experience. Learning in theory only worked until the world invented new ways to work around things and in this regard nothing beat being out in the field. So while he and Satoru have gotten used to this part of jujutsu society, it’s still pretty tiring for her.
Suguru slips in right behind her, greeting the young woman in the driver seat politely. He expects Satoru to follow suit, when he turns his head however, Yaga has blocked the entrance to the backseat with an outstretched arm. Frowning, he strains his ears to listen in on the quiet conversation or rather sensei trying to keep it quiet.
“Is this a fucking joke?” Satoru snaps impatiently.
“We are visiting the families of the victims before heading back and it won’t do any good if they see you covered in their remains.”
“Then I’ll wait in the car,” the boy amends, sounding no less angry as he tapped his foot rapidly.
While Satoru right now looks like the moody teenager he is, Suguru still admires Yaga’s steadfastness. He’d seen already quite a few sorcerers being so intimidated by the Gojo name and the clan’s reputation that they let him get away with far too many things. Satoru needed someone to keep him in line or otherwise he might truly become the loose cannon lots of people already believed him to be. It wasn’t an easy job, – Suguru would know with their clashing ideals, – but right now he fails to see Yaga’s angle.
“That would work,” their sensei agrees. Suguru already senses a but and Satoru must too, with the way his shoulders tense. “But to tell the truth, once you get in there, those seats will be a pain to clean again and on top of that, you stink.”
Cleaning the blood and whatever else his clothes were oozing with out of the seats would be quite impossible. And now that Yaga mentioned it, Suguru actually notices the disgusting stench of decay in the air, coming right from where Satoru waits to be allowed to enter the vehicle. Just the thought of a car ride enveloped in this strange smell of rotten sweetness has Suguru suppress a dry heave.
“On foot the school is just an hour in that direction,” Yaga points with his thumb. “You might make it in less, if you don’t dawdle. You can also see it as punishment for your reckless behavior.”
In his head Suguru counts to three. On cue the other boy throws his hands up.
“This is ridiculous!”
“Is it?” Yaga wonders gravely. “You put yourself and your classmate at risk because you were overconfident. You will walk back to school. I won’t change my mind.”
While Satoru had issues with obeying authority, he respected their sensei, one of the very few people that wouldn’t shy away from his power and reputation. So despite the opposing body language, Gojo keeps his thoughts to himself and simply glares defiantly.
Realistically Satoru’s expression doesn’t give any of his inner turmoil away, as he seems to be caught in a staring contest with their sensei. And yet Suguru spots a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth and the light in his eyes dull a little. By the time he relents Suguru can’t help but think he looks crestfallen. It’s ridiculous. There are many emotions missing in Gojo’s repertoire and this is one of them and yet a strange hollowness spreads through his insides at the miserable sight of his friend.
Suguru gazes at the roof of the car, drawing in a long suffering breath and cursing himself for what he’s about to do. Shoko sends him a curious glance. Smiling at her apologetically he shrugs his shoulders and climbs back out of the car.
“I’ll accompany the idiot and make sure he doesn’t get lost on the way,” he tells Yaga. Immediately Satoru’s eyes light up.
Since Yaga doesn’t object they are soon left on their own, trudging along the road. With the dense humid air Suguru soon notices how his clothes begin to stick uncomfortably to his body when he starts sweating and regrets giving his water away so carelessly.
“This sucks! Why does sensei have to be such a hardass?” Satoru complains petulantly.
“We wouldn’t be here if you’d been more careful,” he remarks dryly, watching the other’s expression turn sour.
“Since when do you agree with the old geezer?”
“I do that quite often. Contrary to your belief he knows what he’s doing.”
Like every teacher Yaga had his quirks and baffling teaching methods, but his expertise was invaluable. He wanted them to succeed, to evaluate their surroundings carefully and reach their full potential and didn’t tolerate petty arguments or cocky behavior if they failed to live up to their bragging. Satoru couldn’t have showcased his lacking judgement more obviously. He often claimed to be ready for missions without the safety net of a teacher despite starting school only a couple of months ago, when this actually couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Oh no,” Satoru gasps sorrowfully.
Suguru frowns at the sudden shift in tone. “What?”
“That hit during the last mission must’ve been harder than I feared. You are obviously still concussed,” he shakes his head in disappointment. “And I thought Shoko had improved, but she obviously missed fixing some synapses.”
One of Suguru’s eyelids twitches with irritation before he calls a curse to trip Satoru. Caught off guard Gojo yelps, but manages to catch himself ere he faceplants. He meets the other’s glare with his sweetest smile.
“Case in point,” Suguru hums gleefully. Satoru’s overconfidence remained his Achilles’ heel. “And that’s why you are drenched in guts and I’m fine.”
Suguru realizes his mistake too late. There is no time to recognize the dangerous gleam in Gojo’s eyes or the wicked curve of his smile. Satoru jumps him, yanking him off his feet in the process. The sudden impact pushes the air from his lungs, rendering him immobile for a couple of drawn out seconds, while Satoru rubs his disgusting body all over him.
Suguru tries to knee him in the stomach, but infinity stops him.
“Get off me!” he howls as the rotten smell penetrates his nostrils and makes him gag – the feeling a little too familiar to the after effects of swallowing a curse.
“Who is overly confident now?” Satoru asks with a grin, relishing in Getou wriggling under him.
“Turn off your infinity and I’ll show you!” he threatens the other.
“Nah,” his friend laughs, but at least climbs off of him not much later. Suguru wants to slap that satisfied smirk off his face.
Gojo has the foresight not to offer Suguru a hand when he gets up or he would’ve used the opportunity to flip the other on his back in retaliation and bring them right back to square one. Instead he stares in revulsion at his clothes. It’s not as noticeable on his dark uniform as it is on Satoru’s skin, but quite a good amount of blood and gunk has seeped into his clothes.
Right now he regrets everything. Leaving the car, joining school, admitting to his parents to seeing weird shit, thus becoming the main reason to be found by jujutsu society and just everything else that lead to him meeting Gojo. Most of all he regrets still considering him as a friend, which says more about himself than Satoru.
“I should’ve stayed in the damn car!” he laments anyway, making sure Gojo knows he’s pissed.
“Yeah, I can’t believe Yaga forced us to walk the whole way back,” Satoru complains completely oblivious.
“You,” Suguru corrects heatedly, glaring at the other. Satoru folds his arms behind his head like he has no care in the world. “Why the hell did I join you?”
The only thing more annoying than the Cheshire grin spreading to Satoru’s features is the singsong-like tone of his next words: “Because you like me!”
Before Suguru can retaliate, Satoru drops his arms, suddenly jumps in front of him and flicks his fingers.
“I’ve got a great idea! Why don’t we fly back on one of your curses? That will save so much time!”
Suguru sighs deeply. “My curses aren’t allowed on school grounds.”
“Then drop us off at Tengen's barrier,” Satoru brushes off his worries.
“If someone sees us-“
“What? Is Mr. goody two-shoes scared?” Satoru croons.
Suguru knows Gojo is simply goading him, the real problem is that it’s working. He doesn’t like breaking the rules, but it beats having to walk all the way back in this humid air while smelling like rotten meat. He wonders briefly if this was Satoru’s plan all along. While he’d like to say the other wasn’t smart enough for coming up with ideas like this, Gojo was a menace. He would pull him down if it meant getting out of here sooner.
Five minutes later they are flying high in the air towards the school. The draft helps ignoring the worst of the stench and the speed keeps them ahead of the first dark clouds forming somewhere in the opposite direction.
Behind him Satoru laughs obnoxiously, as chipper and carefree as ever. Suguru enjoys listening to it a little too much. It’s a shame, since he’s hell-bent on staying mad at him.
“See, this is much nicer, isn’t it?” Satoru tells him, leaning awfully close.
“Touch me again and I’m pushing you off,” he warns his friend. Just the thought of coming in contact with the disgusting mash of human remains has him suppress a shudder.
As if on cue, Satoru hooks his chin to Getou’s shoulder. “Oh yeah?” he teases doubtfully.
At first Suguru clenches his fists, then his jaw and afterwards throws Gojo off the curse. It would be way more satisfying if the other hadn’t figured out how to stand in the air yet.
They reach the school once the first drops of rain besprinkle the ground and thunder rumbles in the distance. Heading straight for the showers, Suguru folds his clothes neatly despite the grime, whereas Satoru peeled himself out of his drenched uniform and drops everything unceremoniously onto the floor.
“What?” Gojo snaps, once he notices his disapproving gaze. “I can burn them, if that’s more to your liking. I’m definitely never wearing them again.”
Suguru has a reply on the tip of his tongue, but is too eager to get clean and therefore ignores that someone will have to pick them up. It won’t be him and probably not Satoru either, since he lacks any common sense. He doesn’t envy the poor staff member tasked with disposing of these clothes.
Ducking under the shower while Gojo is still busy undressing, he relaxes almost instantly once the water hits him. Feeling the grime of the day wash away is heavenly. He takes his time with soap and shampoo and even after watching the last of the foam disappear down the drain, he remains under the spray a little longer, just because he can.
By the time he leaves the shower, Satoru is already done and toweling off. He usually foregoes enjoyment for efficiency. Suguru wraps a towel around his hips, intending to deal with his long hair first, when he halts in his steps.
“Did you get hurt?” he wonders, frowning at the pinheaded-sized angry red swelling just below Gojo’s ribs.
His friend blinks in confusion, following his gaze. He shrugs.
“Mosquito bite,” he placates him and continues his task.
For a moment he wants to ask. It’s a rather strange place for a mosquito bite, if Satoru hasn’t suddenly started sleeping naked or visiting places outside of their dorms without a shirt. But the thought of meeting him somewhere, with his chest on display has him blush all of a sudden, forcing him to turn around rapidly, so Satoru won’t notice. So far he can handle seeing his friend naked, as long as he braces himself for it. Imagining spotting him like this, completely unprepared, turns his mouth dry as a strange desire wells up inside his chest.
So Suguru keeps quiet and doesn’t question Gojo’s reply, focusing instead on calming his rapidly beating heart.