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The thought that Satoru can feel Suguru’s emotions through the bond is a very unnerving one. Thankfully Suguru is sure it’s not true. Not in the literal sense that alphas can’t read their omega’s emotions through the bond, that’s already been definitely proved. No, it’s more that Satoru, as a specific alpha, doesn’t understand emotions well enough to read Suguru’s. That’s what he tells himself. It’s almost comforting in some ways and absolutely gut wrenching in others. Thankfully Suguru feels too numb to really delve into that which is for the best.
The hotel sheets are rough and scratchy under his back. He wants so badly to sleep but is too tired to pull the top sheet off the bed and crawl under. He’s also too tired to sleep despite having a train to wake up for in three hours. The future stretches out endlessly; a mindless march of missions, curses, the sour taste of human vice, scratchy hotel sheets and overly air-conditioned rooms. If Suguru takes a break people die. There was an actual statistic some obviously sadistic Jujutsu sorcerer had worked out once; that for every day’s break a grade one sorcerer took, five people would be grievously hurt. When Satoru heard it he just laughed. He’d elbowed Suguru and said something a shade too offensively arrogant to land the way he likely intended. Suguru had still tried to smile, just because Satoru was his friend.
He hates him now.
No. That was too far. Hate requires strong emotions, real feeling, effort. Suguru doesn’t have the capacity for that. The more curses he swallows the emptier he feels which is ironic. He doesn’t hate Satoru though he knows that he has more than a right too. Fuck, likely even Satoru knows and he never accepts anything that doesn’t slide neatly against his own self-interests. He’s awful.
Suguru throws an arm over his eyes. He’ll just sleep this way then, on top of the sheets in the cold artificial air of this room where the windows don’t open. He’ll likely wake up with a sore throat and an icy nose. What is the temperature set to? Eighteen degrees? What hotel employee did that? It’s not even high summer.
Suguru closes his eyes and eventually sleep forces itself upon him though he can’t say when or how.
He’s woken by his phone ringing. He doesn’t want to pick it up, his mind feels soupy.
He picks it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” It’s Shoko. Suguru tries to use some effort to stop his voice from sounding like he used a cheese grater on the inside of his throat.
“Is something wrong?” He asks.
“You missed your train. Did you just wake up?”
Suguru closes his eyes and curses to himself.
Shoko laughs, though not meanly, before adding, “Heads up that Gojo’s coming to you.”
Suguru no longer feels half-asleep. Adrenaline floods his body. “Now?”
“He called me asking where you were and I tried to tell him not to run off to you, but you know him.” That statement sits awkwardly between them before drifting down to sink to the bottom of the stagnant pool that has become the mass of Suguru’s relationships.
“Thanks for trying.”
“No problem.” Shoko says in her usual placid drawl, “If he was physically in front of me I might have knocked him out, he was so annoying.” She stops. Suguru can sense she wants to say something else but the silence drags on and that feeling dissipates.
“Sorry for missing the train, I know you were expecting me back this afternoon. If you see Yaga-sensei tell him sorry from me. I’ll try and take the next train I can.”
“Take care of yourself.” Is Shoko’s agreement and goodbye in one.
Once the call is cut Suguru physically has to pull himself to sitting and then standing. He’s still exhausted despite sleeping for much longer than he has in a long time.
He sighs and rubs his hand over his face and then his neck. That was a mistake. The scar is puckered under his fingers and he rips his hand away as if burned. Burned by his own bad judgement and the arrogance of a stupid teenage boy who had always been given anything he ever wanted, consequences be damned.
Suguru drags himself into the bathroom and in lieu of just splashing his face with water, decides to take a shower in the hopes that it’ll revive him.
He’s just rinsing out the shampoo when he senses someone enter his room.
His body freezes though he instinctively knows who it is. He didn’t think Satoru would be so fast. He still has shampoo dripping down his face and into his eyes. He puts his head under the spray to rinse.
“Heyyyy, Suguru?” Satoru is knocking obnoxiously on the bathroom door, “You nearly done?”
Suguru rests his forehead against the plastic of the shower cubicle and squeezes his eyes firmly shut.
“Suguruuuuuuu.”
Suguru doesn’t respond. Just turns off the water and grabs a towel to begin drying himself off. His clothes are in the room. He should have brought them into the bathroom. He doesn’t want to go out there in a towel. He doesn’t want to speak to Satoru. He doesn’t want to talk to Satoru. Why is he there? Why is he being trapped in the bathroom because Satoru is right outside? Why did Satoru come?
“Suguru?” Satoru hasn’t stopped knocking this entire time. Where does he get the energy from? “Suguru, it’s not nice to leave me hanging like this ya know? I can hear you in there! You’re being so mean Suguru, so mean!”
Suguru has no choice. He can’t hide in here forever.
He opens the bathroom door and immediately Satoru’s eyes go to his neck and the scar he put there.
“Suguru!” Satoru looks immediately and obviously thrilled to see him, “Aren’t you happy I came to see you? We can go back to Tokyo together!”
The thing about Satoru, Suguru thinks unwillingly to himself, is that he always says almost the right thing but just misses the mark. It’s a talent. There’s likely not many things Satoru could say right now that would endear him to Suguru but saying something along the lines of “I saw you missed your train and I was worried so I immediately came to see you, disregarding all other obligations.” would likely go down much nicer. Not that it would make much difference.
“I feel like we’ve barely seen each other in the past few weeks.” Satoru goes on to say, flopping himself down on the bed while tracking Suguru’s every movement behind those opaque glasses. It’s unnerving having Satoru’s stare on him like this. It feels hot and wrong and uncomfortable. Suguru wishes he would look away. He wishes he knew how to make Satoru look away without sounding emotional. “It’s almost like someone’s conspiring to keep us apart.” Satoru pouts dramatically as he says it.
Suguru had assumed that Satoru had known there was a concerted effort to keep them apart after he had stumbled out of his room, Satoru at his back, with the alpha’s mark in his neck and a near wild look in his eyes. He had thought Satoru knew and understood and respected and participated in it.
“Hey, hey, hey Suguru.” Suddenly Satoru is in his space, crowding him against the lone chair that Suguru had draped his uniform over last night and is now redressing next to.
Suguru doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Satoru is leaning in close enough that their noses are almost touching and taking a deep sniff of Suguru’s scent. “You don’t smell too good.” Satoru declares. “Maybe you’re getting sick, do you think you’re getting sick Suguru? You look a little pale too, have you lost weight? You should have let me know! I would have come and helped you on your mission if it was too much. You shouldn’t be overworking yourself like this.” His words are unbridled and earnest which makes them somehow worse.
Satoru is so stupidly oblivious sometimes it makes Suguru so angry he feels nothing at all.
Satoru doesn’t react to whatever Suguru is feeling that he can’t put a name too and that’s how he can be sure that his assumption that Satoru couldn’t or wouldn’t use the bond to read his feelings was correct.
By this point he was fully dressed so he just picked up his bag in response to Satoru’s endless chatter.
“Let’s go.” He said.
Satoru followed.
*
“Here.” Once they were in their seats Satoru handed him a bento he must have bought sometime when Suguru was half-pleading with the ticket woman about his missed train. “And you should nap.” He patted his lap, “You can lie down on me. Or you could put your head on my shoulder. Whatever you prefer!”
Suguru stared at the bento in his hands.
He sometimes felt like Satoru must have looked up “How to be a good alpha” and using whatever he had found had then gone on to write a checklist that needed to be completed anytime he was with Suguru.
He should thank Satoru. He didn’t want to but he should.
Before he could make a decision Satoru began to speak, telling Suguru about the mission he had just completed and the really good ice-cream place he had sampled afterwards.
“The peach cream was really good! I should have picked up a tub, then you could have tried it too. So many regrets are haunting me.” He sighs for show.
As Satoru monologues Suguru feels his eyes get heavy as if all that is is white noise; the steady movement of the train, the murmurs from the other passengers, and Satoru’s seeming endless commentary.
He falls asleep on Satoru’s shoulder and wonders, a little meanly, if the other is pleased with it.
*
Suguru is rescued once they get back to campus.
Yaga-sensei is waiting and the look he gives Suguru when he sees Satoru at his side, close enough to touch and more than willing to do so, is something adjacent to sympathy. It’s more grating than Suguru thought it would be.
Still, Yaga-sensei actually does something which is drag Satoru away under the flimsy cover of debriefing while scolding him for absconding to Suguru’s side with no warnings. This leaves Suguru to limp back to his room like a wounded animal and collapse onto his futon. He wants to sleep again and without any clear reason why he shouldn’t, he does.
As he sleeps, the midmorning light grows tacky with late afternoon heat, before dissolving into darkness.
*
“Hey.” Suguru welcomes Shoko into his room with ease that he doesn’t quite feel.
She nods in response, “You’re looking better.” She tells him as she sits herself down on his desk chair, “I was getting worried about how pale you were.”
“It’s just my natural complexion.” Suguru tried to joke.
Shoko went with it, chewing the end of her cigarette, “And the eyebags are included?”
In lieu of anything to say, Suguru gave her a smile.
“Gojo’s been sent to Sapporo, apparently there’s some big emergency.” Shoko told him and she really was such a good friend. “He’s going to be gone for two days at least.”
“Okay.”
There was a long silence. Suguru wasn’t sure what Shoko wanted him to say in response, if anything. She also didn’t seem entirely sure of what to continue with, her unlit cigarette dangling from her lips as she leaned back in his chair.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable necessarily, unlike with Satoru there was never a pressing need for communication with Shoko. The two of them could sit together and there was no requirement to fill the space. Shoko rocked herself back and forward on his chair in incremental movements while Suguru stared into nothing. It was nice actually, why didn’t they do this more often? Exist in each others’ spaces with expectation. As the year had worn on they’d both become so busy the distance was natural. He wondered suddenly if Shoko ever hung out with Satoru one on one. He didn’t think she did.
“You can still kick up a fuss, you know.” Shoko finally broke the comfortable silence, crossing her legs where she was sitting, “Nothing official, but Yaga-sensei would understand if you spoke to him, they could find some way to reprimand him.”
Suguru shook his head. Afterall, the answer was laced into everything Shoko had said. Satoru was beyond punishment. Unless of course he allowed himself to be subjected to it and Suguru… didn’t like that idea. He didn’t like the idea of Satoru allowing himself to be punished for Suguru’s sake. It felt wrong. Especially as there really was no point.
“He’s not beyond consequences.” Shoko protested, though not with any strength, catching on the wrong angle of the right point.
“He’s untouchable.” Was all Suguru said, “He’s the strongest after all.” He tried to joke but it fell flat.
Shoko’s lips pressed together into a tight, unhappy line around her cigarette. “And he doesn’t understand how he’s fucked up?” That was likely another hypothetical question.
Before Satoru appeared in his hotel room at the end of his last mission Suguru would have disagreed. He would have said, “He knows what he’s done. That’s why we’re barely seeing each other.” Now he knows the distance wasn’t facilitated in any way by Satoru and he still can’t believe he’s as shocked as he is.
It was likely always obvious to everyone else; the way Satoru hung off him, the way Satoru barged in on him whenever he wanted to, the way Satoru talked about him like they were still Suguru and Satoru, fellow students and friends, rather than SuguruandSatoru, mated pair with Suguru bound to him for life. Suguru had never been treated all that gently as an omega, especially as a jujutsu sorcerer, but he had been unused to an alpha being so pushy and tactile when good manners called for respectful distance. Satoru had terrible manners in every respect so he supposed he had explained the attention that way. Satoru was a good friend when he put effort into it and he always put effort into Suguru.
But still, no one had expected Satoru to mark him. Not even the most sceptical Satoru critic could have foreseen it.
“He’s used to getting what he wants.” Suguru tries to play it off because the only thing worse than thinking about it is talking about it.
Shoko sighs and whatever tension had been inadvertently building is released with her exhalation, “Well, I’m here to talk to you about something related.” She uncrosses and then recrosses her legs. Suguru knows it’s not going to be a nice chat, “He’s bonded you to him which means that you need him, his scent and touch and the rest of that. Otherwise your health will decline which it was already doing. You look better today and a lot of that is because you spent time together.”
Suguru knew this was coming. He can’t help briefly closing his eyes as if to block out the reality of what his life has become.
“You at least need some of his clothing. Here.” Shoko nudges over a carrier bag she had brought with her over to him with her foot, “I took some things from his room. They should help.”
Suguru opens his eyes to stare at the bag though he doesn’t move to touch it.
“You need him to scent you and during your heats you’ll need him there too, suppressants won’t work, not even a higher dosage.” And there goes the last of the control Suguru had over his own body.
You need him you need him you need him. That’s all Suguru can hear and that mainly is the central point of what is being said. He does need Satoru now. It’s been ensured by the other sinking their teeth into his neck during his last heat that Satoru had begged and wheedled and coaxed his way into; Suguru playing at decorum with a few token protests that they both knew were paper thin.
It wasn’t the first time Satoru had helped him. Heats were always better with a partner after all and Satoru was the first alpha Suguru had felt drawn to that way, so when Satoru had offered the first time he’d said yes and that was that. It felt grown up, adult, to have an alpha casually assist during his heats. It felt like something Geto Suguru, the jujutsu sorcerer who was on his way to be classified as special grade, someone strong and dependable and able to save lives, would do. It was something alpha and omegas in Tokyo did, untethered by the gossip-laden implication that would arise in his hometown. Satoru was also the most beautiful person Suguru had ever seen and the heats spent with him left Suguru in a state of bliss so complete it anchored him to his body, carrying him through hardship for days afterwards like the way Satoru floated just above the pavement.
When Suguru had woken up from his latest heat with the new bond throbbing deep in his chest, alongside the sluggish bleeding of the wound in his neck, he’d known he had no one to blame but himself. Himself and Satoru who was entirely normal, even smug, and didn’t seem to understand the gravity of what he’d done.
“Ah I marked you didn’t I? Sorry sorry! You just begged for it really nicely and I couldn’t resist! You’re so pretty when you’re in heat Suguru how could I stop myself? I promise I’ll be a good alpha to you, I guess we’re going to be together for life now huh?” He then laughed.
The memory of that makes Suguru cold all over. Cold and hot. Satoru had marked him but he had never marked Satoru back and the other hadn’t offered. It was a one-sided bond which was likely the reason why no one had tried to put a hit on Suguru for tying down the precious Six Eyes. He was nothing but a disposable toy to Gojo Satoru, something to be claimed for now while the interest lasted and then set aside once the feelings waned. That was what it looked like from the outside and Suguru was hard pressed to disagree with that assessment in any way that didn’t make him sound delusional. After all, polygamy was illegal but jujutsu society had its own rules and someone like Gojo Satoru was all but encouraged to mark as many omegas as possible if it led to any chance that his miraculous genetics could be passed on. Decorum and manners were nothing next to the way someone like Satoru tipped any scale.
Suguru wasn’t quite self-deprecating enough to insist that he was only a warm body to Satoru but there was still a barren and uncharted land between friends who fucked and true feelings. He’d rather not know where he and Satoru both claimed territory on that map.
“When’s your next heat due?” Shoko asks.
Suguru counts back the dates mentally, “Two weeks.” He answers, “Though I don’t know how the bond is going to throw that off, it might not even come.”
“It might not.” Shoko agrees, “But it’s more likely than not that it will, you haven’t been spending enough time with Gojo for your body to have adjusted to his schedule.”
Of course. Because every bonded omega’s heats perfectly sync up with their alpha’s ruts. Is there any aspect of bodily autonomy he has left?
“How have you been feeling?” Shoko next asks, no longer in any professional capacity if the way she decides it’s a good time to light up in Suguru’s room is any indication. The smell of smoke is going to linger for days. Suguru doesn’t try to stop her.
Like a hollowed out melon. Or a used bar of soap . Is what he doesn’t say.
“Fine.” Is what he does answer, “A little… unsettled.”
Shoko huffs an almost laugh, “I’d be more than unsettled if I was you but I get your point.” She leans her head back and the entirety of her long, unblemished, beta throat is put on display. “Have you talked to him properly?” She asks.
Suguru shakes his head.
Shoko pauses before taking another drag, allowing her cigarette to dangle precariously from her fingers a single second away from dropping ash on her uniform skirt, before standing up and tapping it off out of Suguru’s window. She pauses there to breathe out another cloud of smoke which is considerate of her.
Suguru sits there in his nest and is unwillingly drawn back to the last and only time he tried to talk properly to Satoru.
“Satoru… do you know what you’ve done?” Suguru sits up, feeling so exposed he wants to peel his own skin off, as Satoru lounges in his nest and brushes his questing fingers over what is now his omega’s naked hip. His neck is throbbing in time to his heartbeat. Or maybe it’s throbbing in time to Satoru’s heartbeat.
“Mm? You mean the bond?”
“Obviously.” Suguru snaps. He’s never felt so unsettled during his heat before, not since Satoru started sharing them.
Satoru finally sits up at that point, his eyes are glittering, gorgeous. Suguru can’t look too closely at him.
“I’ve marked you.” Satoru says, matter of factly, “Like I said before, I couldn’t resist.” He does look a little shame-faced at this point but he’s still only a slip away from smiling, “But I know I should have asked.” He pouts.
Suguru feels like he’s in a dream, not a nightmare but an unsettling one all the same. The type of which would linger after he woke like the acrid taste of a curse swallowed wrong.
“Do you understand what this means?” Suguru insists, watching the interaction as if from outside his own body. “We’re now… you’re my alpha.”
Satoru looks very pleased at the words.
“Say it again.” He insists, coming close enough that he can crowd into Suguru’s space. “Call me your alpha.”
Suguru stares at him. He’d never felt unsafe with Satoru before. Never. But he understands then with a dawning awareness, like the billowing cloud of an atomic bomb, that Satoru does not understand what he’s done and he never will. Satoru wants what Satoru wants and Satoru gets what he wants.
Suguru is still on the cusp of his heat ending so when Satoru kisses him insistently his body reacts accordingly and the conversation ends, never to be re-opened.
“There’s no point in talking about it.” Suguru shrugs as gracefully as he can.
Shoko seems to accept that because she stands to leave, cigarette resting between her fingers, “Yaga-sensei’s given you the rest of the week off just in case your heat does come. The worst thing would be for it to hit when you’re on a mission and unable to use suppressants. When your cycle stabilises we can look at your scheduling.” Shoko shrugs, “Fatigue can be a symptom of an incoming heat, get some more sleep.” It’s obvious that she thinks he looks on the edge of collapse and is too good a friend to say it out loud.
Suguru nods. The fact that he’s not trying to argue shows to himself just how far he’s fallen. For every day that a shaman doesn’t work- oh fuck it. Suguru’s head feels like it’s turning itself inside out and Satoru is out there anyway. Satoru is the strongest. He could single-handedly kill everyone in the country and get away with it.
Shoko has already left by this point so Suguru reaches for the bag she brought and uses the clothing to pad his bed before he once more crawls under the sheets to sleep.
*
“Suguru.” His name is whispered and his half-asleep mind can’t make out where it’s coming from.
Someone’s touching him. It feels good. He catches their hand where it was resting on his head and tugs the person into his nest with him.
There’s a chuckle.
“So cute!” The voice sounds delighted, but quietly so. “Sleep more Suguru, you look tired.”
Suguru listens and goes back to sleep.
*
When he wakes up it’s to the obnoxious sound of familiar laughter and the insistent tapping of someone texting.
“Satoru.” He says because he knows exactly who it must be before opening his eyes.
“You’re awake! Finally!” Satoru immediately throws down his phone and leans over Suguru, putting them nose to nose, “You slept for such a long time. I was lonely.” He whines irritatingly.
Suguru doesn’t have anything to say. Thankfully because it’s Satoru he never needs to say much, the other will fill up the empty space with noise. He didn’t always used to be like this. Their conversations used to be conversations, real back and forths where Satoru sometimes rudely interrupted but still waited for Suguru to speak. Suguru would scold him and Satoru would make a face and not apologise but he would listen. Suguru doesn’t know why it’s taken him this long to recognise the way Satoru is speaking now has a frantic undertone; he’s filling time and attempting to stave off awkwardness. He’s trying very hard.
“What time is it?” Suguru finally asks, interrupting Satoru.
“Hmm…about four p.m. You’ve basically been asleep for two whole days! Drink some water, Shoko said you might be dehydrated.”
“You spoke to Shoko?”
“Yeah, after a while I got bored watching you sleep so I went to bother her.”
Suguru has to laugh at that. Satoru looks criminally pleased at the reaction. When Suguru is done hydrating himself and puts aside his water bottle Satoru takes the opportunity to shove his way into Suguru’s space and put his arms around Suguru like he’s a large teddy bear.
Suguru accepts it.. Besides… at this stage… of course he’s upset. He’s upset but that ship has sailed. He is now irreversibly tied to Satoru for the rest of his life, hating the situation or loving the situation are irrelevant because his feelings are irrelevant when it comes to this. It happened without his consent and it will continue without his consent. Therefore, he can only accept it and continue to live. Maybe it’s easier this way.
The sad fact is that if, months ago, someone had asked if he would want to be mated to Gojo Satoru he might have taken a moment to think about it. He might have even said yes. His best friend, the strongest, the alpha who was always so good to him during heats. But now…it’s not quite that easy.
He lets Satoru embrace him and thinks all this while the other has their head pillowed against his chest.
“Do you wanna go out and do something today?” Satoru is asking, rubbing against him like a large housecat. “I’m kind of hungry, what do you say?”
Suguru stares past the fluff of Satoru’s hair to his plain ceiling.
“Alright.”
“Great! Let’s go!” And then Satoru is pulling him up out of bed and Suguru is already regretting saying yes.
*
Satoru keeps a hold on him their entire outing, as if Suguru’s brief acquiescence to being touched earlier means that he’s given blanket permission to be touched everywhere now. But of course that’s the way he thinks. Share a heat, give a mating mark, allow a hug, hold my hand. Satoru doesn’t see limits unless they’re impenetrable and he doesn’t respect them unless he wants to.
Satoru stays practically draped over him as they wander around Shibuya, looking for something sweet that will pique Satoru’s interest.
“Oooh parfait! Peach parfait!” Satoru is all of a sudden all excited, taking Suguru’s hand and tugging him into the little dessert cafe.
What do they look like from the outside? Suguru wonders that as they’re shown to a table and sat down. The peppy waitress hands Satoru and then him two large menus wrapped in thick slightly sticky plastic that makes opening it a little stiff.
“Mm, we should share.” Satoru declares, “What do you think Suguru?”
Suguru nods. “Sure.” He doesn’t think much of the parfait menu to be honest. He’s not even sure he’s ever had a parfait before. At least if it’s mostly cream and fruit it’ll be cool and sweet without much recognisable texture to gag over.
Satoru orders and then spends the time waiting chattering about the decor, how hungry he is, how bored he is, how he wants a good challenge, how nice it is to spend time with Suguru, how long Suguru slept, and is he feeling okay? He actually waits for a response on the last question, eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
“Just tired.” Suguru says.
Satoru nods, chewing on his lip briefly, before grinning, “Well, you’re my omega so don’t worry! I can always pick up your slack if you want to take a break.” Suguru imagines that he’s winking behind the shades.
What a… what a stupid thing to say. Pick up the slack… pick up the slack… Gojo Satoru can definitely pick up the slack. He can pick up anyone’s slack. He can win any fight; he’s the strongest. Everyone is an ant next to him. Suguru could quit being a shaman right now and Satoru could pick up his slack for the rest of their lives. Their intertwined, inexorably linked lives.
“Satoru…” He starts as if he might even try and express any of that but trails off quickly.
Satoru leans forward all the same, resting his elbows on the table and coming right into Suguru’s space to hear what he might say.
The parfait arrives at that moment. Thankfully.
Satoru leans back into his seat and picks up his spoon, “It looks nice!” He tilts his head to the side, smiling, “Want me to feed you the first bite?”
Suguru shakes his head, “I’m not that hungry, you have it.”
Satoru pouts, “You have to try some!”
“In a bit.” Suguru assures him.
Satoru grumbles but soon begins to dig in, visibly enjoying the cream and fruit laded monstrosity.
After a while he scooped up a bite and began to wave it insistently as Suguru so he opened his mouth and let himself be fed. The bite was cold and smooth and slid easily down his throat.
What did it look like to outsiders? A happy couple? A beautiful alpha out with his omega feeding him sweets? Nothing could possibly be described as more idyllic.
“Do you like it?” Satoru asked.
Suguru stared at him and wondered if he was really serious. If he was really asking. Did he really want to know? Did he really care? Sometimes Suguru forgot who the boy sitting opposite him actually was. That was the problem actually. It was likely his own fault. He could at least blame part of it for having not grown up native to jujutsu society, if he had then he would have heard of Gojo Satoru from the day he was born and he would likely have been socialised thoroughly enough to never forget.
Geto Suguru, freshly plucked out of non-shaman life, had walked into the classroom and clocked the white haired alpha immediately. He’s good-looking, had been his first non-committal observation. It was very quickly followed by he’s so annoying. The third thought had been something adjacent to he’s strong.
Suguru had learnt who Gojo Satoru, the Six Eyes, was through gossip and discussion later on with most of it coming from the subject himself. Satoru was never shy to describe his sprawling clan grounds and the way he had been brought up as a prince, entirely unembarrassed by his privilege. He joked about how the worship had grown even more fervent when he presented as an alpha. “You should come visit my estate Suguru!” He had said more than a few times, “ The people are stuffy but it actually looks pretty good, I think you would like it.” Suguru would always hum in response, not answering definitively either way. Maybe because it was easier for him to forget who Gojo Satoru really was.
Suguru had forgotten who Satoru really was. He’d forgotten that all his arrogant assholery wasn’t just smoke and mirrors like it was for most other people who acted so obnoxiously. Satoru could back up every tasteless comment he made, he was entirely without a check on his power but his own moral code. Suguru had known this in a tangential way but he had forgotten. He’d gotten too comfortable and invited this person into his nest, into his body, and Satoru had grinned and taken and taken and taken until he had everything he thought he wanted.
“Suguru?” Satoru was pouting, “Why are you ignoring me?”
Suguru shook his head, “I’m not, what did you ask me?”
“I asked if you liked it! Geez Suguru you’re acting kind of out of it, do you need a coffee or something?”
“I need a smoke.” Suguru found himself saying.
Satoru stuck his tongue out, making a face, “Gross.” But the next moment he pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
Suguru stared at the packet in Satoru’s hand. They were his and Shoko’s shared preferred brand.
“I can’t smoke in here.” He found himself saying.
“Oh I guess so.” Satoru groaned as if that was a huge inconvenience, “Lemme pay then we can go.”
When they made it outside Suguru plucked a cigarette out of the packet and then realised he had no lighter.
“Here.” Satoru suddenly had a lighter in his hand. It was an obnoxiously colourful one because of course it was.
Suguru took it and lit up. The first drag tasted like freedom. Like being forced back into his own body after floating above it staring down unable to interact.
“Why do you have these?” He asked as he exhaled, making sure to blow the smoke away from Satoru.
“Because of your gross habit.” Satoru made a face.
Suguru took another deep drag. Satoru had been carrying around cigarettes and a lighter for him. Suguru wondered if this was another step on his checklist. He could imagine the pastel article Satoru had poured over advising alphas to “Make sure you pay attention to your omega’s likes and dislikes and try to carry around treats for them to boost their mood!”.
It wasn’t even complete bullshit. Suguru’s mood has successfully been boosted.
Together they set off back into the heaving crowds. Satoru wants to go check out Hachiko’s statue for no real discernable reason so they head that way, back towards the station. Suguru stares at the endless crowds of people. He wonders how many of them will create curses. How many of them will lead to the deaths of jujutsu sorcerers. How many shaman bodies will pile up uselessly in the unwinnable fight against human nature.
“If I was a dog,” Satoru suddenly says and it’s only then that Suguru realises they’ve reached their destination, “You would look after me right Suguru?”
Suguru looks up at Hachiko’s statue. “If you were a dog?”
“I’d be such a cute dog.” Satoru insists. He’s smiling and his arm migrates its way across Suguru’s shoulders, pulling him in close, “I’d have really nice fluffy white fur and blue eyes. Wow, I’d be such a good looking dog. Suguru, you'd have to enter me into loads of competitions so I could beat all the other dogs.”
This conversation, as per usual with Satoru, is more than a little ridiculous. Suguru is drawn in anyway.
“You’d be an awful dog.” Suguru says, “You’d chew all the furniture and refuse to be house trained. You’d probably pee on me and laugh if I tried to tell you no.” Do dogs laugh? Suguru has never had much contact with dogs before but they must laugh, right? Satoru laughs a lot and Suguru can’t imagine him without it.
It seems Satoru doesn’t have any thoughts on the physiology of dogs as he just throws his head back, laughing uproariously. “I would I would!” He doesn’t sound at all repentant. In fact he even sounds gleeful. “Y’know, in the olden days alphas used to piss on their omegas to scent mark them.” He grins at Suguru, “What about it Suguruuuu?”
The moment has been lost. Suguru’s stomach has been unsettled. Everything is once again cloudy and fever bright.
“Let’s go back.” Is all he says.
“Okay.” Guileless, Satoru follows. The arm around his shoulders stays which forces them to walk slightly awkwardly until they finally fall into sync. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. “By the way, why haven’t they scheduled you for any missions? Yaga-sensei said you would be staying in the college for the next two weeks at least.”
Suguru is grateful that neither Shoko nor Yaga-sensei hadn’t spelled it all out in humiliating detail to Satoru. However he also resents the fact that he now has to do it.
“My heat cycle has been thrown off by your bite. I’m waiting for my next heat to come.”
Satoru’s mouth pops open. It’s obviously for show. When Satoru is serious he doesn’t react so performatively. “You’re gonna go into heat in the next two weeks?” He grins, “I better be ready then.”
Suguru just hums noncommittally.
*
The first signs of heat as a bonded omega are exactly the same as they’ve been his entire life until now. Suguru had his first heat when he was twelve which is the average age for omegas. It was more of an emotional and cramp-centric experience than anything sex-related.
The sex didn’t come later, until Satoru. Suguru had kissed alphas and betas and one other omega before. Non-shaman from his middle school. It was more a game back then, a dare to themselves, an attempt to feel older and mature with nothing of substance behind it. Party favours that were quickly forgotten under the incestuous weight of small school friendship groups.
When Satoru touches him Suguru feels it in his whole body. He forgets who he is, what curses are, why it all matters. All he cares about is having Satoru keep touching him. There’s nothing performative about the sex he’s had with Satoru. The things they say, the things they do, the things he feels, can’t be examined by anyone else.
Satoru had said he had never even been kissed before Suguru. Suguru believes it and wonders if it means anything that Satoru has offered all of his own firsts while taking Suguru’s. Would it make a difference either way? Sex with Satoru isn’t perfect like in the JAVs Suguru used to occasionally watch. Sometimes Satoru is awful, but because it’s him, his face his hands his skin his scent, it’s always good.
Suguru thinks about Satoru as he lies in his nest and waits for the heat madness to descend properly. Shoko had already been by to check on him and said that everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly. He thinks she was more there to check that he wasn’t spiralling into despair which is a very embarrassing thought, that he needs the care, even as it feels a little nice. Satoru is currently somewhere near Nagoya and Suguru has texted him to let him know, though he had cautioned that he was only in pre-heat so it wasn’t urgent.
If he calls Satoru away then Satoru isn’t even picking up his slack. When a sorcerer doesn’t work then- shut up. Shut up Suguru.
Satoru is so selfish. Suguru wonders how it feels to be so selfish. During the second heat they shared Satoru had grinned at Suguru during one of the lulls between fucking. “How many curses do you think I can exorcise before your next wave?” He had asked. Suguru had stared at him in non-comprehension. “Hmm… I think at least twenty. Let’s make a bet!” Satoru hadn’t waited for an answer which was good because Suguru had nothing to bet with, nothing of value at least.
Satoru had zipped off, only throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, stinking of pheromones, and when he had returned Suguru was writhing with his heat and Satoru had climbed on top of him and tended him with thirty exorcisms under his belt.
It was disgusting. The utter lack of care. The flagrant disrespect for everything; for life and death itself. Their classmates were dying but Satoru never could. Suguru had cried when Satoru fucked him, just a few tears, and had convinced himself it was the overwhelming nature of his hormones when in fact it was something far more insidious.
Satoru was a good person. Suguru believed that. But you didn’t have to be empathetic to be kind. You didn’t have to be nice to be good.
Suguru lies in his nest, blanketed by Satoru’s t-shirt, and stares up at the ceiling. He’s so lonely it’s a gross lump inside of him that cannot be exorcised by even the strongest sorcerer. He doesn’t know who he is most of the time. He doesn’t know what he wants most of the time. He doesn’t want to live and die as a sorcerer anymore, following a moral code he can parrot but can’t believe in. He wants to enjoy being a shaman but he doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t enjoy anything.
That thought is so scary it’s one he shies away from, unable to examine lest it rip his entire life to pieces and take him somewhere he will never be able to return from.
Usually when he’s in this stage of pre-heat he’ll already be horny and touching himself. It’s a biological imperative and yet this time far more muted. A gentle simmering warmth that’s not demanding too much. That must be the effect of being mated. He’s heard of this, that mated omegas have softer pre-heats now that their body isn’t clamouring for an alpha. This is the result of his instincts being appeased. Now all he has to do is wait.
Suguru imagines that he could even conceivably work in this state. What a novel thought.
He turns onto his side. Satoru will be hours yet. Suguru isn’t even fully in heat so he doesn’t have to rush back. He can take his time. Pick up everyone’s slack. Single handedly keep the balance of power tipped in humanity’s favour.
Suguru has suddenly reminded himself of who Gojo Satoru is and it unnerves him.
He could read while waiting. He could text his parents to let them know he’s alive. He could ask Shoko to come and chat.
His parents… they don’t know about Satoru. They don’t know about most of what he does. They’re not shaman after all and there’s no good way to explain this life to anyone on the outside. Suguru had never been particularly close with them growing up anyway. Not that they were bad parents, they were objectively good parents. Suguru was fed and clothed and cared for, raised well into someone polite and dutiful. He hasn’t spoken to them in a while. They would likely enjoy an update that he’s alive. They respond promptly to all his texts, thanking him for reaching out and wishing him well. But distance, physical and emotional and all rest, are unavoidable. Still, Suguru doesn’t have to make it worse but that seems to be all he’s capable of doing.
He hasn’t told them about Satoru. That seems like important news, right? News that his parents deserve to know. That their only child, their dutiful omega son, is bonded. Bonded to an alpha. An alpha who is smarter and stronger and more powerful and more beautiful than anyone they could ever conceive of. Suguru can’t even begin to imagine how they would react so he hasn’t told them. It feels somehow easier to keep Satoru and everything in his new life as separate from his past as possible. He’s a different person now after all.
Instead of doing anything he stares at the wall of his room as the light travels across it, dappling the white and eventually fading into nothing as his eyes adjust to the void.
Satoru is loud when he comes.
“Suguru!” He practically cheers, “How is my pretty omega? I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” It’s an insincere apology. Every apology from Satoru rings as insincere.
Suguru just turns over onto his back in response and holds out his hand.
Satoru takes it and curls their fingers together. He smiles at Suguru, sunglasses slipping down his nose, and brings his hand to his mouth to kiss. It’s heart-wrenchingly romantic. Suguru’s stomach aches.
“Feeling okay?” Satoru asks, voice low and stirring.
How did he get so good at this so quickly? He’d never been kissed before Suguru and now he strips like a professional and crawls between Suguru’s legs like he’s being paid to do it. It’s Satoru’s worst trait; his enthusiasm. When he’s like this all Suguru can see is the irreverent way he handles everything else in his life and then the dedication he puts into tending to Suguru’s body. He hates it because it stops him from distrusting Satoru the way he needs to even if the other doesn’t deserve it.
“Satoru.” He pulls him in closer.
Satoru’s smile stretches wider until it’s all Suguru can see. He’s consumed. His mind is overtaken. He’s nothing but a vessel for Satoru. Nothing but Satoru’s. Nothing but an object with no dreams nor ambitions nor purpose beyond being Satoru’s. It’s easier this way. He wants to exist curled up within the pinprick of Satoru’s desire instead of having to manage the many unwieldy and chaotic elements of himself.
“I like you so much Suguru.” Satoru says. Or maybe doesn’t say. Suguru’s mind is fracturing into pieces as it always does during his heat. Satoru could be saying everything and nothing at this point. Suguru could be doing the same. It’s a well-known fact that omegas will say anything to get what they want during a heat. It’s like being drunk, except people say drunk words are sober thoughts when that’s patently not true for omegas in heat. It’s a biological imperative that makes him beg when he’s horrified by the thought, that makes him say whatever shameless awful thing he can think to pull the reaction that he wants out of Satoru.
And the reaction that he wants…
“I like you so much Suguru.”
Yeah, that sounds like it.
Suguru spreads his legs wider and kisses back and before he knows it, he’s lost.
*
Suguru isn’t that interested in going to the kitchen to have Satoru cook for him (it was clear the alpha checklist was still going strong) but it had been a while since they had the chance to spend time together. With every day Satoru only grew stronger and stronger and even impossibly stronger. Suguru didn’t think he would ever stop. There seemed to be only one clear trajectory for Gojo Satoru and that was straight upwards.
In many ways he thought Satoru might have the right idea. Why worry about the petty nuances of jujutsu politics or the larger question of whether or not this was all even worth it? Why not just focus on yourself and if people are saved along the way, well that’s good too isn’t it? Suguru knows it’s unfair of him to characterise Satoru that way. Satoru does care, just in a more tangential way. He cares because he was raised to be the strongest and what is strength without using it? Satoru is so much better than everyone else in so many ways and maybe a large part of that is because he doesn’t lose sleep at night. He sleeps easy and strives to be better and do better and doesn’t think of each hour not worked measured in the number of lives lost.
Suguru is just walking down the corridor to the kitchen while being assaulted by the familiar tone of Satoru’s voice just out of sight when he hears his name mentioned.
He tries to tune it out but Satoru is too loud.
“I’m cooking dinner! Suguru will be here soon and he’ll be blown away by my culinary skills.”
“Have you even ever cooked before?” Nanami doesn’t sound amused.
“I’m sure Gojo-senpai can get the hang of it!” Haibara declares enthusiastically.
Satoru laughs again. “I’ve never cooked before.” He admits, “But it can’t be that hard, I’m sure I can make something Suguru will like.”
Nanami sighs, “Why did you bond him to you if you can’t even cook for him?”
Satoru audibly pouts, “Why can’t it be because I love him? Love can make you go for it without cooking ability, isn’t that what everyone says?”
“Because you love him?” Nanami sounds insultingly sceptical.
Before the conversation can continue Suguru enters the kitchen and ends it.
“Suguru,” Satoru beams at him, “I’m going to make hamburger steak, what kind of veggies do you want? I bought broccoli and spinach and cauliflower and carrots.”
“We’re going to go.” Nanami says, turning to leave.
Haibara gives them both a beaming smile as well as a greeting and goodbye in one before he follows Nanami out.
Suguru gestures to the pile of vegetables Satoru is now pulling out of the fridge, “Why did you get so much?”
“I got enthusiastic.” Satoru defends, “If you were there with me then maybe you could have stopped me.”
Suguru doesn’t say that no one has the ability to stop Satoru.
“Broccoli and carrots.” He decides, “You can make the others next time.”
Satoru beams, “Sounds good.” He pulls a knife out of a drawer and flips it showily, “Be prepared to be amazed Suguru.”
“I’ll try to contain myself.” Suguru says, sitting down at the kitchen table to watch the way Satoru turns making a meal into some kind of performance.
Suguru is the only one there so evidently it’s all for his own benefit and he can’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy it. What does that say about him? Naive non-shaman omega moves to the big city and immediately falls into bed with the slick heir to one of the most powerful jujutsu families. It sounds like the synopsis to a particularly bad novel, the type that they sell at the train station for long haul journeys.
“Suguru!” Satoru shoves a plate in front of him, “What do you think?”
It looks good but of course everything Satoru does is the pinnacle of achievement. Apparently making hamburger steak doesn’t escape that.
“It looks good.” Suguru offers, “I don’t know about the taste though.” He smiles a little at Satoru’s showy squawk.
Satoru pouts, “You have to actually try it, go on!” He bullies a fork into Suguru’s hand.
Suguru takes a bite.
It’s delicious.
*
Tsukumo Yuki is here to meet Satoru. That’s obvious from the moment she spots him and Haibara confirms that he’s Satoru’s mate. Her gaze goes interested in the way people do when they realise his connection to Gojo Satoru, before her smile takes over.
“There aren’t many omega jujustu sorcerors.” She says with a laugh. “I was going to ask what kind of women you prefer but it seems you’ve already been snapped up, what a shame.”
Haibara laughs at the joke. Suguru just smiles.
Once Haibara leaves Yuki takes the seat next to Suguru, smiling at him. “So, the mate of the strongest huh? What’s that like?”
The jujutsu world is full of gossip. Suguru logically knows that people talk about him and Satoru. He may live in the bubble of jujutsu technical college, buffered by Yaga-sensei and Satoru, but outside people talk about the fact that Gojo Satoru has a mate. They talk about Suguru’s skills. They may talk about his looks. He’s sure they even talk about when he’s going to have children.
“It’s not bad.” Suguru answers, “I’ve heard that you prefer to laze around overseas than take missions.”
Yuki is faux outraged and the atmosphere simmers and then settles.
Suguru wonders if there really is any way off this hamster wheel. Yuki says she’s working towards a curse free world in her own way but it seems that the only plausible way to end it all would be if there were no more civilians leaking cursed energy. Haibara says that he can only do what he can. He says that he’s happy doing what only he can do for others. Suguru is not happy. He doesn’t think he’s really been happy in a very long time. He doesn’t take pride in the work he does. He doesn’t think he can. He’s not sure how he ever did before.
Before Riko. Before Satoru. Before. Before in a period of life he doesn’t remember anymore. When he was a child dying was incomprehensible. When he was a young teen he would watch movies and think death was rote and foreign. Now he faces it everytime he goes outside. The stakes are too high. The compromises are endless. The fear is a dull ache in his stomach. He hates his cursed technique. He hates that having morals means nothing. He hates that Satoru is always so happy.
“If you want to speak with Satoru he should be back tomorrow.” Suguru lets her know. Satoru had sent him an endless stream of texts describing every moment of his mission and then every moment afterwards. Suguru had responded sporadically as was his habit and Satoru had treated every response with care. Can he really be happy with Suguru’s lacklustre efforts? Can he really send fifty messages and be pleased with one word in response? Suguru wonders why he doesn’t want more and then reminds himself that if he did he could simply take it.
“Hm, alright then.” Yuki leans back, tucking her arms behind her head, “So I heard that you and Gojo mated super young. Though you’re still young now of course.” She laughs, “Tell me to shut up if I’m being too presumptuous but I think it’s nice. In this uncertain life we have to hold onto anything of value while we can.”
Suguru stares at his feet. Her words have penetrated his skull and are rattling around. Hold on. Make use of the time that they have. Hold on. Is that what Satoru did? Hold on? Ensure Suguru and him were bound for life? It can’t be that simple. It can’t be about love. It can’t be about emotion because Satoru doesn’t think that way. He’s startlingly pragmatic. Terrifyingly vicious when he needs to be. Self-serving because he’s strong enough that he never actually needs to hurt others with that selfishness. Not usually at least. Not in big ways.
“Mm.” He hums in response.
He can’t think of anything else he could possibly say.
*
Haibara dies.
*
“Suguruuuu,” Satoru grabs and swings him around, practically overbalancing them both in the process, “Let’s go on a mission together!”
Suguru smiled and didn’t try to push him away.
“You’re much stronger than me, Satoru.” It was true. It was devastatingly true, “There’s no point in matching us up, especially when we can cover more missions separately.”
Satoru pouted but somehow it wasn’t his normal expression. It looked almost like real upset. “So? I’m stronger than everyone. Does that mean I’ll never do a mission with anyone else ever again?”
Suguru opens his mouth to say yes and then closes it because… it feels cruel to say that.
Satoru has both arms wound around his neck and he’s physically slumped against Suguru, cheek squished against his chest. “Suguruuuu.” It comes out mumbled. “We never see each other.”
That’s true. They really don’t see each other as much as every piece of guidance on alpha-omega bonds dictates they should. Alpha and omega salary men are even encouraged to spend at least three nights a week at home with their partner. Satoru and Suguru haven’t been able to share a bed in almost a month.
“Okay. Let’s go speak to Yaga-sensei. It’s a waste of resources but I’m sure he has some idea of what we can do.”
Satoru immediately brightens, pout disappearing, “Yes!” He cheers, “Doing missions with you is always the best. No one else can keep up in the same way.”
Suguru thinks that he’s also become one of those people that can’t keep up. However… he looks at Satoru. Into his smug little face with its familiar grin and sparkling eyes worth more than their weight in gold. Satoru beams back at him, purposefully guileless. Suguru suddenly doesn’t think Satoru means “keep up” in a purely physical way anymore. Or maybe he’s just being delusional.
Either way, Satoru will get the joint mission he wants. Just because he wanted it. Just because he asked. Just because he’s Gojo Satoru and that means he gets everything he wants.
*
Suguru thinks it would be easier to say he blacked out when he did it. He thinks it would be a good answer. “I saw two girls locked in a cage and I was so angry I blacked out and don’t know what I did.” That would be a good, reasonable answer. That would be the answer that would likely get him a slap on the wrist and a long lecture and finally let him slide back into his life because jujutsu sorcerers always walk a thin line of violence and insanity and non-shaman life really means nothing, so what are a few slip ups here and there? He could lie and say a rogue curse appeared and killed them before he managed to subdue it. He could go back to jujutsu technical college and go to his knees before the society he now exists in and know that they don’t care about individual human lives enough to really do anything substantive about him. He could… ha ha ha there’s a lot he could do.
Suguru thinks his thoughts might be turning in a slightly hysterical direction.
If it were anyone else here he thinks he may be able to stay calm.
But it’s not. It’s Satoru.
“Suguru.” Satoru has his hands clamped tight on his upper arms. They’re still in the room with the cage. The girls are still in the cage. The five dead bodies of the villagers unlucky to be in the room when Suguru saw the girls in the cage are still leaking blood in an ever-expanding puddle on the ground at their feet. A little longer and it might reach Satoru’s shoes, though of course it’ll bump up against the barrier of infinity before it stains the leather. “What happened?”
Suguru looks at Satoru. “Why are you here?” He asks. He had been doing this mission alone. He had been doing all his recent missions alone, lost to the endless cycle of exorcisms and consumption and hatred that could not be broken. Not even by Satoru’s insistent badgering.
Satoru can’t break the cycle so why is he here?
“I felt you, so I came.” Satoru is so serious. He hasn’t turned this kind of look on Suguru in… ever.
“You felt me?”
“Through the bond.” Satoru’s eyes go to his neck.
Suguru stares and stares and stares until the white of Satoru’s hair starts to blur at the edges, “You can do that?”
“Every alpha can. Did you not know?”
Suguru shakes his head. Not that he hadn’t known it was possible. More that he hadn’t know that Satoru could. Had he done this all along? Had he always been doing this? Then wouldn’t he… wouldn’t he know?
Know what? He asks himself. What is there to know?
“You came because you felt… me?”
“You felt really bad.” Satoru says, earnestly, “So of course I came. Are you okay?” He doesn’t even look at the bodies, “What happened here Suguru?”
Should he lie? Should he give Satoru the kinder lie?
Suguru tells the truth, “I hate them all.” He answers, “Non-sorcerers. All those stupid-” He cuts himself off. His thoughts are too tangled to put into plain comprehensible words right now. Furthermore, he’s not entirely sure what he wants to do.
If he killed everyone… if Satoru never came he would have murdered every person in this village and walked away. If that happened… he would be labelled a curse-user. He would leave everything behind. He would crystallise the fragmented ideas that he had been struggling with all these years. He hates the people he’s supposed to save. He hates the lives they have to live. He hates that he and every other jujutsu sorcerer have to bear the weight of human sin. He hates that they have to die for nothing.
“Hey Suguru.” Satoru is very serious, “Those girls in the cage, why don’t you go and let them out. Okay? I’ll take care of things from here.”
Suguru stares at him. He’s killed civilians in cold blood. He doesn’t know what Satoru can take care of.
“Suguru,” Satoru lets go of his arms and nudges him towards the girls, “Go on.”
Suguru turns to the cage and the girls huddling in it. They stare at him as he comes closer but don’t shy away when he breaks the lock and reaches in to bring them out. When free they cling to him, shying behind his body and clutching. He picks up one girl in each arm and they cuddle into him.
Satoru has left the room at some point, Suguru isn’t quite sure when, and the bodies are also gone.
Suguru goes to the door but with his hands full he can’t open it. Before he can really consider that in any depth Satoru is there. He opens the door from the other side and smiles at Suguru and then at both the girls.
“It looks like you guys are coming with us.” He tells the girls cheerfully, “How about it? Do you want me to carry you?”
Suguru stares at him.
The girls press more firmly into Suguru and Satoru just laughs. “Ah you like Suguru better huh? I understand, don’t worry I won’t hold a grudge, I like him best too.” He laughs again.
He then places a hand on Suguru’s back and leads him out of the house and back into the village. The day is normal. The other villagers wave at Satoru as they pass and speak normally. Everything is normal.
Satoru leads them to the main road where a car is waiting.
“I didn’t know the college could send a car so quickly.” Suguru says as Satoru opens the door for him.
“Of course not! I had to order this one.” Satoru makes a face, “Imagine the bureaucracy of having to go through the college! We’d be waiting forever. But could you imagine having to take the train right now? Gross. This is better.”
This is better. For the girls. And for Satoru who must have teleported here and is likely exhausted.
It’s an SUV. The backseat is large and spacious. The girls fit naturally onto one row of seats and cuddle against each other. Suguru takes off his jacket and they happily take it to use as a blanket.
Satoru smiles at him where they’re sitting next to each other on the row in front. “Shouldn’t I be the one giving the jacket as the alpha?”
Suguru shakes his head, “Satoru…” The girls have quickly fallen asleep in the backseat. Suguru wants to fall asleep too but there’s too much and not enough to say all at once.
“You should rest. You’re looking very pale.” Satoru says, taking his hand gently, “It’ll be a few hours drive.”
Suguru closes his eyes and sleeps.
*
Yaga-sensei is being very good about the random children acquisition. He listens to Satoru explain that the girls were being kept in a cage and the villagers were abusing them and at that point Suguru misses the thread of Satoru’s explanation because he tells the truth.
“Off the record,” Satoru begins, hand on Suguru’s shoulder where they’re standing opposite Yaga-sensei, “Or on the record, whatever you think is best as long as it doesn’t mess with Suguru too much, five civilians died.”
Yaga-sensei stares at Satoru, ostensibly waiting for more that doesn’t come. Finally he speaks, “Are you going to say more about how they passed?”
Satoru shrugs showily, “Does it matter?” His hand squeezes Suguru’s shoulder firmly.
Yaga-sensei’s gaze goes to Suguru then. Suguru does him the favour of looking him in the eye though he doesn’t know what Yaga-sensei sees, or what he even wants him to see.
“Neither of you will be doing any missions for the next week.” He finally says. “If there’s anything else you would like to tell me then I am open to hearing it. As for the girls, they can stay here for the time being while we work out what would be the next step for them.”
“Sounds good.” Satoru chirps, “We’ve been super swamped anyway, Suguru and I deserve a little holiday! C’mon Suguru.”
Suguru follows Satoru because if left to his own devices he might just walk straight out of jujutsu high and into the wilderness of his darker impulses, never to be seen again. It’s more unnerving when he faces that those impulses don’t have a clearly defined shape. He almost grasped something in that room with the cage and blood slick floor but it bled out between his fingers like smoke the second Satoru put his hands on him.
Satoru takes them to Suguru’s room and pushes Suguru to sit in his nest even though he hasn’t showered and is still gross and dirty from the mission and he’s always hated getting into his nest while dirty.
Satoru sits on the floor, not coming inside the nest, back against the wall with his knees propped up and his arms resting on them.
“What you told Yaga-sensei.” Suguru stares at his own bloody hands, “That’s a crime. I’m a curse-user. I should be executed.”
“Oh yeah? And who’s going to execute you?” Satoru asks, irreverent in that way that only he can be.
Suguru looks up at him, “Satoru-”
“It’s not going to be me.” Satoru interrupts as he leans forward, slouching dramatically, “And if anyone tries to put a hit on you I’ll kill them. We’re the strongest, no one could manage it.”
“We’re not the strongest.” Suguru tells him, helpless in the face of Satoru’s everything as always, “ You’re the strongest.” He didn’t used to feel this way with Satoru, so out of control and impotent. He used to be able to contribute, stand alongside him and feel as though he added more than he took away.
“And when people mate,” Satoru holds up his hands and clasps them in front of his face, “Two become one, right?” He grins, tilting his head, “You’re a part of me. No one hurts you, okay?”
Is this what it feels like to be Gojo Satoru? No one holding you to account but yourself? Is this what it feels like to be Gojo Satoru’s mate? Shielded from all consequences based on the man’s selfish whims? How far does this go? How far can Suguru freefall within the bubble of Satoru’s protection?
“Satoru,” Suguru looks away, “I killed five people in cold blood.”
“Yeah, how about you don’t do that again, okay?” Satoru is still smiling.
Suguru is flooded with a rage so potent he almost drowns.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yells at Satoru, raising his voice for what feels like the first time in years, “I murdered five people and you aren’t going to say anything?! You’re not even pretending it’s bad, you’re not even trying to cover it up like someone who understands anything about right or wrong would!”
Satoru’s smile finally drops, “Suguru.” He says, starting slowly, somehow the calm and well-paced one between the two of them which just feels wrong, “Your problem has always been that you’re too good a person. There’s no point in reading right or wrong into what we do, we eradicate curses and that’s that. You’ll drive yourself crazy otherwise. Being righteous does nothing good.”
It’s an echo of all their earlier arguments. The ones they stopped having when they mated and settled into whatever this relationship they have now is. Back then Suguru was a good enough person for Satoru and him to take those opposing sides. Satoru: arrogant. Suguru: righteous. Two sides, wanting power for different reasons while pursuing the same goal. How can Satoru still speak to him like he deserves the same pedestal? Suguru doesn’t think he even wants it but at the same time… from Satoru he still does. Not to be good but to be righteous. They’re different things at the end of the day and he wants Satoru to still think of him as someone with principles and purpose, someone admirable in that sense at least, instead of the mess he’s become.
His anger fizzles out, parallel to his loss of conviction.
“What if I killed everyone in the village?” He asks, “If you had been just a little later I would have.”
Satoru nods, considering it, “It would be tricky.” He finally says, “Five people is one thing, more than a hundred is another. I think… hmm, I don’t think Yaga-sensei or those old windbag elders would be willing to look past it so easily… though it’s not like they have a choice. After all, how many special grade sorcerers are there? They can’t afford to lose us.”
Suguru stares at Satoru. He’s been struck by… everything. Everytime he forgets who Gojo Satoru is, he's reminded once more. Everytime he forgets what jujutsu society is, he's reminded once more.
“Aren’t you shocked? Aren’t you upset?” He asks, not knowing quite what Satoru is going to say and conversely what he wants to hear.
Satoru frowns, his sunglasses slipping down his nose, “I’m upset at myself I guess.” He considers, “I should have been watching you more closely.”
Suguru doesn’t know what to do with that answer.
“Aren’t you… how can you accept it? I don’t even feel guilty.”
Satoru props his cheek up on his closed fist and frowns, “I could never turn away from you Suguru. If you were truly evil… I’d find some way to contain you to stop you from doing evil stuff but I could never leave you or hurt you.”
“Our bond doesn’t go both ways.” Suguru says, a little numbly. It wouldn’t affect Satoru to leave or hurt him. There would be no pain on his end, no cost in condemning Suguru.
“You want to?” Satoru immediately crawls forward to put his neck within biting distance, “Here, go ahead.”
Suguru stares at that impossibly pale impossibly beautiful impossibly coveted impossibly unblemished stretch of skin. The thought of biting down right now… it doesn’t feel right.
“Satoru.” At the sound of his name Satoru stops contorting his neck and sits back, taking him out of the reach of Suguru’s teeth, “I…” He stops, unsure of how to continue. He feels sick with something and for once it’s not a curse.
He thinks back, finally, to how unhappy he’s been. How angry in a deep throbbing way that had become a backdrop he barely notices anymore. He thinks about how hard this life is. How much he resents doing it. How he hates the people he’s meant to save. How he doesn’t know what he’s even doing here anymore, wasting his life on those who will never appreciate it with no end in sight.
Suguru is not going to last as a jujutsu sorcerer on his current trajectory. He’ll either go insane and what happened today will happen again in a way that Satoru will not be able to handle as cleanly as the way he’s claiming to be able to, or the apathy will overtake the adrenaline on a mission and a curse will get lucky. In either one of these scenarios Satoru will be left behind. The strongest the strongest the strongest… what use is that when the person he’s decided to tie himself to is Suguru?
Satoru has tied himself to Suguru and sitting here he’s just said that he’ll carry his sins too. Suguru has been losing his mind. He thinks that if the Geto Suguru of even three years ago met him now he wouldn’t recognise him. Two years even. Maybe only one.
Gojo Satoru is the strongest because of his techniques. He’s the strongest because of his bloodline and the simple reality of genetics. However, there are many strong people who are not the strongest . He’s competition no one can beat of course, but jujutsu sorcerers have been working for hundreds of years. How many times have the history books unequivocally proclaimed one “the strongest”? Gojo Satoru is unique and he knows it. Most of all because he is himself completely, all edges and difficulty included. He does what he needs to do and then he goes shopping for sweets, bugs Suguru for attention, texts his friends obnoxious jokes no one replies to, and above all lives a life he seems happy with in the spaces he’s carved out for himself, a pure shining ideal reflecting optimism for the future, unbowed by the constant unreasonable weight of the world’s expectations.
“Are you happy?” Suguru finds himself asking, “Because I don’t think I am.”
Satoru tilts his head and doesn’t answer immediately.
Finally:
“I’m sorry Suguru.”
“Why are you apologising?”
Satoru looks unhappy, “Shouldn’t I have noticed?”
Suguru sighs, “I never expected you to.” It’s the truth. He had honestly never expected Satoru to notice just how fast and far he was spiralling. He had never even wanted it. This wasn’t the kind of thing where he was throwing out his hand, desperate for someone to take it and pull him back.
“But I’m your alpha? Shouldn’t I take care of you?” Satoru says the words plainly and it once again rings like he’s parroting some little guidebook on alpha-omega relationships. Maybe Suguru is the one that’s messing up, but he had never once considered Satoru his alpha in any traditional sense. Even after the bite and their relationship became so wonky he had still always thought of Satoru as his friend first and foremost. Should he have expected his friend to notice? Maybe some people would but Suguru was never the type to expect anything from others. Besides, he didn’t want that kind of attention from Satoru.
He answered the best way he knew how, “I don’t expect you to. Not in a traditional sense at least, it’s not in your nature.”
Satoru frowns harder then, “That’s worse, that you expect so little from me.”
“It’s not…” Suguru sighs, unsure and unable to explain all his thoughts on Satoru and their lack of proper alpha-omega dynamic and how that bled into his pre-existing expectations of the other. Instead, he finally reopens that conversation. “Satoru, people usually talk a long time before mating. They meet each others’ families, they live together, they combine their lives and then they make the joint decision to take the next step.”
They don’t fuck their classmate a few times and then bind that person to them for life with no words exchanged. Satoru made himself a bad person when he did that. Shoko and Yaga-sensei and Nanami and Utahime and all the rest watched the way Satoru had done it and whispered about his endless alpha arrogance and appetite. Suguru had been given sympathetic looks or pulled aside for careful conversations when people were sure Gojo wasn’t around to shamelessly eavesdrop.
They allowed it to confirm everything they thought was true about Satoru, used it to calcify his disposition into something far more sinister until the conversation inevitably became “ Of course he did that. What do you expect from Gojo Satoru? You’ve all seen the ways he acts”. Every one of Satoru’s good qualities, of which there were many, all of which Suguru admired and wanted to emulate, were buried under the slag of slander, made ever filthier by how little Satoru seemed to care. He neither explained nor defended himself. Only appeared as if he was waiting for the inevitable conclusion: acceptance. Suguru knew that wasn’t the case, Satoru isn’t that type, but the easiest explanation often wins.
He was sure some people must have been envious, after all Satoru was the perfect alpha. The perfect sorcerer. The perfect man. And yet… there had been a certain air of… relief. Pity for Suguru having been too nice and too naive and fallen into Gojo Satoru’s path and relief that the limitless, and therefore dangerous and undefined, appetite and interest of the Six Eyes hadn’t fallen on others. Others who really mattered. Others whose protectors, of which Suguru had none significant but Satoru himself, wouldn’t be quite so quiet if they were treated the same way.
Satoru right now is correct, “they” can’t afford to lose them. Time had ticked on and Satoru and Suguru had simply been fixed as a pair with their origins as such fading into an embarrassing yet harmless backstory. After all, Suguru was still alive and healthy and able to work and Satoru is the same if not better. So all in all, it could only be called a success.
“We did that.” Satoru tries to argue, “Maybe not meeting our families but my family…blegh, too much political crap, you don’t want to meet them. And we did combine lives! We basically lived together and spent all our time together. You’re my best friend! We’re the strongest!”
Suguru looks at Satoru and the indignant flush that’s stolen it’s way across his cheeks. Satoru… sees the world differently to most people. Or maybe Suguru is the one out of place in jujutsu society. Whatever it is, he’s known from the beginning that this wasn’t a bridgeable gap.
“I’m sorry.” Satoru repeats when it’s clear Suguru isn’t going to say anything, “I shouldn’t have done it like that. I should have talked to you first. I just,” He leans back against the wall and scuffs his left foot against the floor, “I really like you Suguru, sharing your heats was amazing. I can’t believe you said yes when I asked the first time. I mean, of course you did, who could resist?” He smiles but it falls flat, “And being with you was so nice so when you asked me to bite you while we were making love I thought… why don’t we? We like each other, that’s a great reason why.”
It’s such a simple Satoru answer. Suguru has nothing to say.
“I don’t think I’m doing well.” He finally admits out loud, to himself most of all.
“That’s okay.” Satoru says immediately, “You’ll get better.”
That stupid Gojo Satoru optimism. Of course he thinks that. Of course that’s his response. He believes anything is possible. He really believes everything can get better and that’s because for him it does, it can. Satoru can achieve anything, there’s no ceiling for him. Even if Suguru trained until his bones crumbled to dust he has a limit. He’s not untouchable. He’s not a god. He’s human.
And furthermore… better from what? Suguru doesn’t know if his apathy and hatred are things that can be cured. Does he still believe that eradicating curses is the right thing to do? Yes. Does he still believe the duty of the strong is to protect the weak? No. What is duty? Satoru was right. How did he get off on being so self-righteous? He doesn’t know how to keep going this way. He doesn’t know how to get better at living.
Sorcerers, their friends , will keep dying and the world will keep turning and non-shamans will continue to bleed cursed energy into death warrants.
If Suguru steps back then people die. He doesn’t care about that anymore.
“Satoru… I think I need you to pick up my slack.”
Satoru immediately nods, almost puppyish in his showy enthusiasm, “Sure.”
Suguru shifts on his nest and holds out a hand to Satoru in an invitation to join which is immediately taken.
Satoru holds him tight and it’s comfort he needs because Satoru has ensured through his bite that he will always need him.
Somehow, only today, Suguru has finally learnt that the reverse is also true.