Chapter Text
"Wanna go out with me?"
"No."
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Gojo leaned back against his chair and clicked his tongue. He kicked his feet onto the table and cocked his head, almost as if to test the limits of what he could and couldn't do. The school had let him get away with too many things, and you could see it in the confidence of his actions that he believed you couldn't reform him like you'd done with all the trouble makers thrown at you from the past.
Really, it truly wasn’t your job, but hey, a recommendation was a recommendation and you needed everything at your disposal to get into your dream university.
Not so subtly raising your leg, you aimed a kick towards his chair - not so he would fall down, of course. But rather so the shockwaves and impact he felt after falling down onto the ground would transform him into a new and better person.
Miracles happened, and you came to the conclusion that the only way to reform Gojo Satoru was to give him a concussion; if he lost his memories, then that would prove to be an even better outcome. Maybe then he would stop with all his nonsense.
With one hand wrapped around your ankle, Gojo pulled you forward with a loud screech. One that earned a loud 'be quiet' from the librarian as he plopped the legs of his chair back onto the ground and smirked up at you.
"What do you think you're doing?" Gojo mused, steeling the look in his eyes.
"What do you—" you tried to yank your leg back, but all that earned was a tight squeeze, "—think you're doing."
He cocked his brows, only releasing you when you aimed another kick at him. If you couldn't pull your leg back, might as well shove it towards him, the target and cause of all your current demise.
“Is this how you reformed all those trouble makers?” Gojo asked mockingly. “With violence? I never knew our precious President would resort to such a despicable thing.”
You returned his smirk with a wry smile of your own. “Only for you.”
“So I’m special?”
“In the head? Maybe.”
Gojo burst out laughing, earning a stern glare from the librarian as you hurriedly tried to get him to quiet down while sending frantic glances towards her, hoping she could sense that this was you trying to desperately apologize to her for everything that was to come.
Only when you clamped your hand over his mouth, did he stop the amusement in his eyes ever so bright. Once you were sure he wouldn’t get the two of you in trouble again, you finally let your hands fall back to your sides, getting ready to chastise him when—
“Do you really not want to go out with me?”
Silence hung between the two of you as he stared, the dawning sun casting his eyes into the ocean and seas. So beautiful and as pretty as when you first saw it. Always hypnotizing, but rarely truthful.
“I’d treat you well, y’know,” he continued in that same tone, murmuring. “Do anything to make you smile. Anything you want, I’d give it to you. You’re my girl, after all.”
It was at times like these when you found it difficult to tell whether or not he was serious. When he became quiet, and looked at you like he had everything in the world to offer and more. And he most likely did; he was Gojo Satoru after all, sole heir to the Gojo clan and fortune.
Closing your eyes, you turned yourself away from his expecting gaze, resuming your work. Mid-terms were soon, and you wouldn’t let someone like him stray you from your efforts and everything you hoped to achieve.
“Over my dead body,” you answered, hoping your voice would not waver under the weight of all he had to offer. Perhaps if you didn’t know the type of man he was, his promises would have been more tempting, but you did know him and who he was, and you just couldn’t trust someone like that. “Anyways, unlike everyone else I’ve tutored, you’re actually smart so I’m sure you know how to solve problem 5—”
“If I get a good score on the upcoming test, go on a date with me.”
The lead snapped under the sudden pressure you put on it, and you didn’t even have to look at Gojo to know he had that shit-eating grin on his face.
Taking in a shaky breath, you turned your attention towards him. “Define a good score.”
“70 or higher,” he answered smugly.
“That’s barely passing.”
“I know.”
Rolling your eyes, you briefly glanced at the clock behind him. The library would be closing soon.
“95,” you said, watching as his eyes widened briefly. “At least.”
“Do you even want to go on a date with me?”
“Nope.” With a smile, you packed your things up and shoved them in your bag. “Good luck, though. You’ll need it.”
One year ago
The first time you met Gojo Satoru, it was the spring of April and the cherry blossoms had just bloomed.
First years raced about, rushing to their classes and waving to familiar faces as clubs stood outside the pavement, waving their banners and flyers around to attract new students and potential members. Teachers prepared themselves for the day, setting their classrooms up, and among all the chaos — all the laughter and giggles — you were standing in front of the student council team, holding their flyer in hand as they spoke with a bright smile.
“You’re a first year, aren’t you?” asked a boy with glasses, his hair parted down the middle. You nodded, flipping the flyer around. “That’s even better! Integrating yourself into the community right off the bat, you must truly be a good student. We need more people like you!”
Good student?
That was definitely a word to describe you. Inaccurate maybe, but a word nonetheless.
Glancing up, you offered him a smile. “I don’t think I caught your name. I’m (Full name). And your’s?”
“Ijichi Kiyotaka,” he answered, extending his hand. “First year and member of the council. Nice to meet you!”
“Likewise,” you shook his head, the laughter of those around you nearly drowning out your conversation with him. “I know there are requirements in order to—”
You slammed forward, hands reaching out to catch your fall as a large weight crashed into you, causing you to topple forward. Ijichi let out a sound akin to a mouse squeaking as he shot his hands forward, steading you so you didn’t crumple into the stand and make an embarrassment of yourself.
What —
What just happened?
Blinking rapidly, blood rushing to your head hot and heavy, you whipped around, eyes snapping into a glare as you came to the only conclusion one could in those few seconds —
“Ijichi!” A teasing voice, loud and cheerful as shadows fell over your vision. “You were serious about joining the student council? I thought you were just joking about being a good student – oh, who’s this?”
A sakura slipped in between you and the person that had crashed into you. The chatter of others around you fell into a faint static, the wind a distant bother as it softly caressed your cheeks all the while the person bent down, getting into your face.
Blue.
That was all you could see. All you could focus on as he tilted his head, face mere inches from you.
“Can’t speak?”
The noise around you returned to its original volume, the sakura blossom settling in between the two of you as you backed up, glare returning to your eyes.
“Can’t walk?” You snapped back, turning your back to him as you dusted your skirt. You’d known this person for less than 5 minutes and already you were regretting your decision to apply to this school. “Acting like you don’t have eyes.”
A loud snort, one you barely paid any mind to as you made to grab the flyer you dropped, but before you could, another hand was already reaching for it.
“Just ignore him,” a new voice, calm and collected but filled with unfailing amusement entered the conversation. “He has no manners.”
As you turned to stare over your shoulder, a new face filled your vision. Black hair slicked back into a bun, the boy offered you the flyer back with a smile too kind. Like he was used to apologizing for the mistakes of others and had mastered the art of pacifying whoever he was speaking to in the process.
Scanning him up and down, you let out a small sigh and waved him off. “I can tell.”
Another snort followed by a whine.
“Hey! He shoved me and now I’m being blamed for his mistakes? It wasn’t even my fault!”
Brows twitching, you closed your eyes and tried to count to ten. But before you could even reach three, an arm was throwing itself over your shoulder and Ijichi let out that same squeal, hands going to his mouth as you turned to glare at the boy who was quickly climbing the ranks of the most annoying people you’ve met in your life.
“Now that’s harsh,” he whistled lowly, grin ever so wide. “If you’re joining the student council, it’s no wonder you’re so uptight. It’s as if being no fun is a requirement for—”
He let out a yelp, holding his now-redden knuckles as you shoved him aside. He would have toppled over had it not been for his friend catching him with another snicker.
Sending another smile towards Ijichi, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll look more into this, Ichiji!”
Ichiji flickered his eyes between you and the white-haired boy, nervously letting out a chuckle as he nodded. “Of course…”
Before either of the two no-named strangers could make your day worse, you were already booking it to your classroom. The bell was going to ring soon to signal the start of the first day, and you’d rather be prepared and make new friends than stress over some dorks who you’d rarely see around school.
Stepping into the classroom with a sigh, you glanced to see most of your classmates already situated in seats and speaking among themselves. Giving a quick glance at the whiteboard, you let out a small hum at what was on it.
A table was already drawn and on it were various names. Taking a closer look, you noticed you were sat near the back, besides a —
“Gojo Satoru?” You said the name out loud, finger pressed against your lips. Why did that sound so familiar? Like a name you would hear on T.V. It was unique.
Shrugging the thought off, you settled into your seat. Because it was beside the window, the glare of the sun was rather harsh. Standing up, you stood on your tippy toes, reaching up to undo the knot holding the curtain together.
Your struggle must have been evident for everyone to see because a laugh rang through the classroom, followed by a shadow falling over your figure as calloused hands easily reached the knot you were struggling to undo.
“Need help?”
Flushing slightly, you looked over your shoulder, ready to answer with a flustered yes only to pause as oceans and skies for eyes greeted you.
Oh.
Fuck.
Amusement spread wide across his face, the white-haired boy from before – with a tug of his hand — undid the knot on the curtain.
“I never got to introduce myself,” he started, but you already knew where this was going. Glancing between the board and him, there was only one conclusion you could draw from all of this. “Name’s Gojo Satoro, and well — “ his eyes flickered to the seating chart before settling on you “— you’re (Full Name) I’m assuming?”
A pause, before that wicked smile on his face returned.
“Nice to meet ya’, seatmate.”
Ah.
Fuck.
Not once did Gojo ever give you peace.
Not on the first day of school, or the next, or the following month where you joined the student council and he never let you live it down.
“I predicted it,” he said matter-of-factly, twirling his pencil in the air as you desperately tried to tune out his yapping. Even when you had one hand cupping your right ear to block it out, Gojo continued as if he was bragging. “You’re exactly like Ichiji, but the delinquent version.”
Slowly, you lowered your hand, throwing him a glare. “What exactly about me is a delinquent?”
“Well, that look for example—”
Gojo let out a sudden yelp, ducking to avoid your pencil being thrown at him at mach speed.
“—and there you go proving my point!”
Tuning him out once more, you focused on your notes for the upcoming test. It was the first for this school year, and you had to quickly establish your credibility if you wanted to prove yourself to the student council. Simply joining wouldn’t do anything. You had to do better, be better if you wanted to enter your dream university.
Formatting the notes from the previous math lecture, you were nearly done when you felt something poke your cheek.
Staring at the wall for three seconds to collect your sanity, you slowly turned your head to the right. “I’ll kill you,” you said as calmly as you felt. Which was not at all. “You fucking annoying twat—”
Your next set of words were muffled, calloused hands blocking it with that wicked grin you had grown so used to over the past month.
“See,” Gojo said, lowering his voice to the point you had to strain your ears to hear him. “No upstanding student would threaten another so easily with such creativity.”
“Almf eye dwim waf cralw yuv a twaf.” All I did was call you a twat.
“You would’ve called me worse if I let you continue.”
True.
“Satoru,” a voice like an angel descending from heaven to save you from the grasp of Lucifer himself entered the conversation, and with grateful tears in yours, you turned to your savior. “It’s supposed to be a study period right now.”
“Suguru,” Gojo said, exasperated. “I am studying.”
“Geto,” you said, equally exasperated. “Switch seats with me. Please.”
“And deal with him? I don’t think so.”
“Hey! I’m right here.”
“Unfortunately.” Letting out a grown, you slid forward in your seat, burrowing your head in your hands. “Why does someone like you even have perfect attendance?”
“What do you take me for?
“A delinquent,” you and Geto said simultaneously.
Gojo had the gall to look offended. “I am a troublemaker, not a delinquent. There’s a difference.”
Rolling your eyes once more, you pushed yourself up from your seat. Both Gojo and Geto turned their attention towards you, as you packed your things, obviously curious.
“Where ya’ going?” Gojo asked, leaning back against his chair.
“None of your business,” you replied airily, taking a glance at the clock. Study period would be over soon which was followed by lunch for the first years, but you had plans elsewhere “Hopefully I won’t see you after lunch.”
And with that you were off, heading towards the door and passing by your teacher who gave you a nod, knowing where you were headed.
Stepping out into the halls, you adjusted the button of your cuff and started walking towards the library. Just outside stood a vending machine, and digging through your pockets for any coins, you wanted to grab a drink for yourself. Finding a 100 yen just in time, you made to push it into the slot but a large, calloused hand beat you to it.
“Yo,” a deep voice, light and casual but ever so familiar. “You’re here early.”
A pause.
Then.
“Sukuna,” you pushed the button for your drink, never looking over your shoulder. “Why are you here early?”
“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”
Grabbing the drink, you let out a snort. “No. Your teacher kicked you out of class again, didn’t he?”
“Bingo.”
Standing up, you stuck your straw into the drink and turned to stare at the true delinquent of the school who just so happened to be your childhood friend staring down at you, his build ever so intimidating. “We’re only a month into the new school year,” you started, the two of you heading into the library. “What could you have possibly done to get kicked out of class?”
He had the nerve to pretend to think about. “I don’t know. I did a lot of stuff.”
Throwing your bag onto the table, you motioned for him to sit down with an impatient tap of your foot. “Hurry. Your mom wants you to have your work from last week done before school ends, or else she won’t make my favorite dessert tonight.”
“Blueberry tiramisu isn’t that good.”
“Yeah well you suck, but you don’t see me saying that.”
Sliding into the seat across from you, Sukuna sent you a wolfish grin. “Alright then. Do your best and tutor me, (Name).”
7 strawberry milk drinks in, you were ready to tear your hair from your scalp. Or what was left of it, anyways. You were sure by the end of the day, you’d have no hair to speak of.
“X isn’t 0,” you pointed at his paper, voice losing its patience. “I keep telling you questions 5 through 10 are a set, and it says in the instruction X is not smaller than 1.”
“Oh, right.”
“Oh right, my ass,” you slid down onto your chair, hand covering your face as you realized your blueberry tiramisu dream was not going to be fulfilled anytime soon. “Should I just give up on you?”
Sukuna’s smirk never left his face as he continued doing homework. As aggravating as he was, Sukuna wasn’t dumb no matter how vexed he left you. If he truly put his mind to it, something as simple as his homework could be done in three hours, but he didn’t want to put his mind to it. That was the issue.
“You’re doing this because you hate me,” you started monologuing, voice grave. “You’re doing this because you don’t want me to be with the one thing that truly makes me happy.”
“I’m doing this because you’re a fatass who needs to get off my mom’s cooking.”
“Fuck you.”
Glancing down at your phone, you wanted to let out another groan. Lunch was almost over, meaning you’d have to return to thing 2 – Gojo – because thing 1 – Sukuna – wanted to make your day more difficult.
Sulkily packing your back, you were almost done when Sukuna’s voice rang out, calm and collected. “That kid still sits next to you?”
Looking at him through your lashes, you tilted your head. “What kid?”
“The Gojo brat.”
Subtly frowning, you closed your bag. “Well, yes. We’re barely a month into the school year, you don’t really expect my teacher to switch seats before midterms, do you?”
Sukuna didn’t answer, instead continuing with his questions. “He still bothering you?”
“Oh come on, if you’re looking to pick a fight with someone, can it not be my seatmate—”
“(Name),” his voice came out heavier, thick like honey and you paused, finally turning your full attention towards him. Sukuna had steeled the look in his eyes, no spark of light or humor in them. “You shouldn’t get involved with him.”
“...I’m not,” you said, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “We’re just seatmates. Nothing more.”
But even then, Sukuna did not loosen the look in his eyes, the rigidness of his stare starting to make you shift on your feet. Muttering out a small goodbye, you turned on your heels to head back towards your classroom, feeling his heavy gaze continue to follow after you.
You weren’t stupid. Sukuna was warning you for a good reason.
After all, one week into the school year, you figured out why the name Gojo Satoru was so familiar – or well, why the Gojo name was so familiar. The family owned several successful businesses, and came from old money. And Satoru?
He was the sole heir to all of that fortune.
But that wasn’t the problem, no. Rather, it was the whispers and rumors surrounding the family that was the issue.
A few years ago, there had been reports of the family being in cahoots with the yakuza, but nothing came out of it. The news station and journalist that had reported on it were cleanly wiped from the media and the family continued to operate like normal. Whether or not the rumor was true, it had done no harm to the Gojo enterprise, and soon enough, it eventually slipped from everyone’s mind.
That was most likely the reason Sukuna had said what he had, but really, what use was that warning?
You and Gojo were nothing to each other.
One childish boy would not destroy you. Could not destroy you, and he would never have any reason to.
Sighing, you pushed the door open to an empty classroom — or at least, you had expected it to be empty. It was lunch after all, and no one would want to spend that in the classroom, but alas, a certain someone always managed to dodge every expectation you held.
Tapping away on his phone, face settled into a bored expression, Gojo had his legs propped against the desk, leaning back against his chair like always.
“What did we say about putting your feet on the table,” you started, sliding the door close behind you. Gojo paused, flickering his eyes over to you. “The students in charge of cleaning duty won’t be too happy about having to clean up after—”
“You know Sukuna?”
A heavy pause hung between the two of you.
Blinking slowly, you opened your mouth, the question unexpected. “Why?”
“Just curious.” He plopped his chair back onto the ground. “Saw you guys hanging out with each other.”
Frowning, you settled back into your seat, Gojo’s eyes never wavering from you. “I’m just tutoring him.”
“Is that all?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
Gojo’s lips curled into a smile, but for some odd reason, it didn’t reach all the vacantness stored in his eyes. “He’s a troublemaker, y’know. Just wanted to warn ya’ is all.”
Frown deepening, you pulled out your textbook and started to flip through the pages, choosing to ignore Gojo’s words. The two most annoying people in your life just so happened to dislike each other enough to warn you about it, how great. Whatever issue they had with each other, they needed to keep you out of it.
Instead, you chose to change the topic. “Anyways, what are you even doing here? I never thought I’d ever see you willingly choose to be in a classroom.”
“I like to break people’s expectations of myself.”
You tried to not roll your eyes at that comment — and failed, but at least there was an attempt. “And your girlfriend? She happy with you just skipping —”
“We broke up.” A calm, collected answer.
For a brief moment, you tried to not show you were stunned, but as a laugh slipped out of Gojo’s mouth, you realized you had failed to school your expression in time.
“Already? You just started dating her last week.”
Gojo only shrugged, before returning back to his phone to type away at who knows what.
Figuring this would be the end of the conversation, you started to read over the lesson for English, highlighting key points you wanted to bring up in the class discussion. As you mulled over the paragraphs, The bell rang throughout the school, signaling lunch to be over.
As students piled into the classroom, you continued to read the text, as Gojo continued to type away.
For that singular moment, everything was peaceful.
The first time Gojo missed class, you thought nothing of it.
But when he came to school the next day, bruises over his face and bandages around his fist, the first thing that crossed your mind was Sukuna’s warning.
When homeroom ended, your teacher pulled both Geto and Gojo aside into the hall while the class whisper erupted into whispers at the state of the two heartthrobs. What could they have possibly done to end up in that state?
“Do you know anything?” The girl in front of you asked.
You only shook your head, eyes drifting towards the hall where both Gojo and Geto stood, hands crossed behind their back as your teacher’s raised voice echoed throughout the hall. Midterm was soon, so seeing one of the top two – surprisingly – students come into class looking like some thugs was no doubt a shock to your homeroom teacher.
“But we should get ready for our next class,” you said, standing up. “You know what happens when we’re late for P.E.”
At your words, several students perked up in horror. No doubt no one wanted to run several laps around the track field. In moments, everyone was scrambling to get their clothes and to change as now both Geto and Gojo were being dragged to the teacher’s office to get another earful.
As everyone else in the class headed out to the track field, you paused in your steps.
“What’s wrong?” a classmate asked, and with a groan you planted your face in your hands.
“The roll sheet,” you muttered. “I forgot to bring it.”
Everyone grimaced as you begrudgingly turned around. Great, after warning everyone now you were the one going to be late and most likely to run laps. Turning through the halls, you made it back to the classroom, and without a moment of hesitation slid the door open.
“—fuck, he was mad as hell.”
“Next time don’t piss off your dad and don’t drag me into your messes.”
Loud raucous laughter as your head turned to the familiar voices. Opening your mouth to chide Geto and Gojo, somewhat grateful you wouldn’t be the only one running laps, you stepped forward only to come to a grinding halt at the sight in front of you.
Stretched across pale skin was scars among scars of raised, bumpy flesh torn through their body.
Geto was the first to notice you as he was faced towards you, and with a nudge of his arms, motioned for Gojo to turn around.
“Oh,” Gojo started, looking over his shoulder, the length of lips curling into a wicked grin. “You pervert.”
Both boys were in the midst of putting on their tracksuits, stopping midway – not out of surprise, but amusement as you stared and stared at what laid underneath their uniform.
The scars were the least of your issues.
No – it was what was over them that had shocked you into silence.
Tattoos.
Gojo and Geto were covered in tattoos.
Wrapped around his arms and the left side of Geto’s chest was a dragon, lotus flowers laid across the spines of the reptile in deliberate strokes of ink and crime. Kanji was seared below the dragon’s mouth, reading loyalty and family. It stopped short of his elbow, and with a crescent-eyed-smile, he raised a hand and waved at you.
“Hello.”
You did not say anything back – could not say anything back as your eyes shifted itself over to Gojo’s back and the Oni painted ferociously among the reptiles and flowers on his back. A dragon wrapped around the mask of the demon, settling front and center against the muscles and scars of his body, and before you could draw the only conclusion one could from that scene, Gojo was already in front of you.
“You shouldn’t get involved with him.”
Sukuna’s words echoed through your head as Gojo stared down at you, his blue eyes drowning you in the truth of his status.
“(Name),” he started, voice as joyful as ever. “Whatcha’ doin’ here?”
“...to get the attendance sheet,” you say after a short pause, voice surprisingly calm. “I…I forgot it.”
“Oh, really?” Gojo mused, slipping his tracksuit up fully, hiding the tattoos from your view. “There was no need for that. I could’ve brought it for you, y’know.” A short pause as he drifted from your face down to your body, before settling on your clenched fist. “You should go before you’re late to class. Wouldn’t want to make Yaga-sensei mad now.”
Mouth dry, you only nodded, glancing behind him where the attendance book was.
“You should really go.” Gojo’s voice came again, heavier than you’ve ever heard it. “I’ll bring the book.”
A warning.
Lowering your eyes, you stiffly nodded and turned to head out of the classroom. But before you could fully slide the door shut, a hand grabbed your wrist and twisted you around.
Blue.
Always blue.
Gojo stared at you, and you could only stare back, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth. He must have stopped you for a reason, but as one minute turned into two, you realized soon enough he had nothing to say. Or that if he did, he wasn’t going to say it anytime soon.
Slipping your hand free from his grasp, you cleared your throat. “The two of you should hurry. Class is going to start soon.”
And with that you left, blood rushing through your ears as you tried to calm the racing of your heart.
A day before midterms, you learned that the rumors were true — Gojo Satoru’s family was connected to the Yakuza.
No – they weren’t connected to the Yakuza, they were the Yakuza, and the knowledge shot back towards you like hot, thick syrup dripping down your throat.
Fuck.