Chapter Text
Anyone who has ever met Satoru Gojo would agree on two things:
- He’s (by far) the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer alive, and
- He’s an arrogant, smug bastard who always has something to say.
So when Satoru Gojo stood speechless in front of you for the first time, the world seemed to pause, just long enough to feel the weight of his silence.
-----------------------
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Gojo whined as he stood from the sofa where he’d been lounging. He stretched his long limbs in an exaggerated arc as he ignored the warning glares from the teacher standing in front of him.
As he rubbed at his neck, feigning pain, he continued. “Wanna tell me what’s important enough that you sent Nanami and Utahime on a mission that I should’ve handled?”
Masamichi Yaga exhaled, ignoring the dramatic pout plastered on Gojo’s face. He turned on his heel and made his way towards the exit of the school’s lobby, where he had found Gojo avoiding his duties.
“Let’s go, Gojo,” Yaga called over his shoulder. He barely concealed the annoyance in his voice as he marched away.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Gojo huffed under his breath.
Still, Gojo trailed after him. The familiar walls of the school blended together as they walked. Yaga didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood- not like that had ever stopped Gojo before, but he decided not to push it this time. More often than not, Yaga was irritated by something or another; however, he seemed serious this time, and Gojo wanted to avoid getting chewed out again.
Gojo noticed that Yaga had gone easier on him after Suguru Geto left Jujutsu High a year and a half ago to pursue his twisted dream of killing all non-sorcerers. There wasn’t a glaringly obvious change; no, he still got on Gojo for being late, and Gojo still often found himself scolded over mundane issues. But after he failed to execute Geto on the streets of Shinjuku, he noticed that Yaga would listen to his complaining with minimal protest.
As he walked along mindlessly, he wondered if he had done the right thing, leaving his best friend alive. When he returned to the high school that evening, Shoko found him in his room. She sat silently by his bed as he stared at the ceiling until the moonlight streamed through his window in scattered beams. When she stood to leave, he asked her what she would have done. She paused for a moment before shrugging and flashing him a small smile. Then she was gone.
No one bothered him for a few days after that.
When Yaga finally appeared with a mission assignment, Gojo welcomed the distraction. He would never admit it, but he knew he had gone overboard during that first mission back. He still remembered the feeling of snapping out of his rage, shame washing over him as he surveyed the splatter of intestines that covered the walls.
Nobody scolded him for that, either.
He almost died. Haibara did. A crazy cult killed Riko. His first love vowed to murder countless innocent people to protect him in some perverse way. At the time, his humanity was almost non-existent – he wasn’t even sure it ever really returned.
Yaga came to a halt in front of a door, snapping Gojo out of his thoughts. He glanced around and found himself in a building he didn’t recognize. The walls were the same dull beige as the rest of the school, and identical doors lined the hallway, which seemed to span far longer than it should have. It almost looked like the girls’ dorm that Shoko stayed in, but the air prickled with something even his Six Eyes couldn’t place.
The silence felt suffocating here.
He tilted his head, letting his sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose. His eyes glittered in the light as he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. He was sure that he, Geto, and Shoko had explored every inch of Jujutsu High, yet he had never seen this place before. An uneasy twist coiled low in his stomach- a sensation Gojo didn’t have much experience with.
He rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension he had been unknowingly holding. He was being ridiculous - this was just some old building. After all, his Six Eyes hadn’t picked up on anything odd. He must’ve been tired from the back-to-back missions he had just returned from.
“Where are we?” he wondered, his tone casual on the surface.
Yaga turned to face him, his features wary. “Satoru, there’s something you need to see,” he started cautiously. “Please, keep your emotions in check.”
Gojo cocked his head, reaching up to scratch the nape of his neck. His signature cocky grin was absent from his face- a rare occurrence. Instead, his brow furrowed.
“What’s going on, old man? Where are we?” he pressed, his curiosity replaced by annoyance.
Yaga stayed silent as his leery gaze remained on Gojo for another beat. Then he shifted his attention to the room on his left.
The moment Yaga pulled the door open, Gojo felt an unfamiliar wave of cursed energy ripple through the entryway. Golden strands shimmered in precise, shallow waves around the mass in the center of the room; they felt soft, like he was running his fingers through a pool of sand.
One of Tengen’s barriers had been hiding this room, Gojo realized.
What the hell was going on?
Steeling himself, Gojo stepped into the doorway, his sunglasses still pushed down his nose.
His jaw dropped slightly at the sight in front of him.
“And what do we have here?” he purred, his foxy grin returning to his face.
He noted the sparkle in your eye from across the room as you spoke.
“Took you long enough.”
—------------------
When Yaga knocked on your door earlier that morning, you were perched on the edge of your desk, engrossed in a dog-eared book you had snagged from the library the night before. You had been expecting him, yet you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips.
“Come in!” you chimed, setting the cheesy romance novel to the side. “You know you don’t have to knock, Yaga,” you added, playfully huffing at the man before you.
He took one step into the room before planting his feet on the hardwood flooring, his features locked into a serious expression you knew too well. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the familiar worry in his eyes. You had lost track of how many times you told him to relax before he dug himself an early grave, but he would always wave your comment off.
You were too excited to scold him today.
“I’m sure you’re already aware,” he started, clearing his throat, “but Jujutsu Headquarters has decided that Satoru Gojo should learn of your existence. It appears that there may be some brewing conflict between Suguru Geto and the Jujutsu world, since he defected last year. They have decided that you would be a useful tool in case Gojo needs assistance.”
A tool.
You’d become one the moment that your cursed technique had shown itself. When they found out what you were capable of, the powers-that-be had decided to keep you under the radar– a hidden weapon they could draw in a bind. You were the kind of secret people would kill to keep; after all, even a few of the higher-ups were left in the dark. Outside of Yaga and Ieiri Shoko, nobody else at Jujutsu High was aware of your existence either.
Yaga continued. “You’re only going to meet for a few minutes today. Given your...” he trailed off, scratching his chin, “...circumstances, I know there will probably be tension between you. But, please, try your best to get along. I would hate to see your room destroyed.”
Again. The word lingered in the air, unspoken but understood.
You’d been tucked away in this room of the old dorm building when you were seven. The higher-ups weren’t as bad as you’d imagined: they stocked your craft room with supplies, brought you piles of books when you asked, and even set up guitars and recording equipment (which you had never actually used).
As you got older, you realized it was probably because they figured that keeping you happy was easier than being on the receiving end of your wrath.
Yaga sighed, bringing you back to the present. Judging by his clenched jaw, he wasn’t pleased about the decision to introduce you two.
He really needed to loosen up.
“What, are you worried he’s dumb enough to try and kill me or something?” You teased, giggling at his stony demeanor.
His lips formed into a disapproving frown, and he shook his head at your comment.
“You don’t take anything seriously, kid. I guarantee he’s stronger than you think he is,” he scolded. “He’s also a cocky dumbass, so please don’t rile him up. There’s nothing I can do to stop him if he loses control.”
That was true- his power far exceeded your expectations. You’d seen him demolish enough to know that. You couldn’t tell Yaga that, obviously; he would be pissed if he found out you had been putting yourself at risk of being seen just to watch the second-years like a creep.
Instead, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” you chided, a pout replacing your giddy smile. “I’m not a kid anymore, I can handle myself, y’know.”
Over the years, Yaga had become a father figure to you. He frequently visited to help you train, bring you meals for the week, or simply chat with you. Given the chaos he seemed to attract, you knew that the decision to introduce Satoru Gojo into your life must’ve made him very nervous.
But all you could feel was raw exhilaration.
Yaga scoffed, turning towards the door. “Just be careful,” he warned over his shoulder, his shadow stretching over you. “And stay away from him when I’m not around.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the door closed behind him before you were able to quip back. Typical.
You hopped off your desk and bounced over to the bed, landing on your stomach. You buried your face in the pillow, your giggles muffled by the cotton.
You didn’t resent your isolated lifestyle, because all the loneliness had led up to this: the moment you had been waiting for since you first learned of Satoru Gojo’s Six Eyes– the moment you would get to see them work up close.
As you thought about it, ten years of anticipation bubbled up in your chest, shooting electricity through your fingertips.
Today was the day you would break him.
—-----
Three hours later, Satoru Gojo stood in front of you.
His white hair caught the hallway light and glistened like sunrays on fresh snowfall. It stuck up in all directions, throwing strange shadows into your dorm. It matched his pale skin, which was flushed with a faint pink tint across his cheekbones.
Up close, you were struck by just how tall he was; his lanky body nearly filled the doorframe. Your attention flickered to the uniform he wore, which was wrinkled slightly as though he hadn’t bothered to iron it that morning.
But what really surprised you was his blazing eyes. They shone much brighter up close than you had expected, almost as if their glow emanated from somewhere inside of him. The energy they emitted prickled against your skin as they flitted across your face, assessing you. When they met your stare again, you noticed something darker underneath the surface that made your skin crawl.
It pained you to admit it, but he was strikingly handsome.
He dipped his head to the side, a cat-like grin stretching across his face.
“And what do we have here?” he cooed, cautious venom tucked under his casual tone.
“Took you long enough,” you drawled from atop your desk, irritation glittering in your words.
It was common knowledge that Satoru Gojo was always late, but this was ridiculous.
He huffed out a laugh. “Sorry for making you wait. If Yaga told me I was going to be meeting a beautiful woman, I would have made sure I was on time.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
“So, how long have you been hidden behind one of Tengen’s barriers here?” he continued with an even tone.
“A little over ten years now.”
“Ten years?” His gaze flicked to Yaga. “What’s going on here?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Yaga quickly cut you off.
“Iris…” Yaga warned.
Gojo’s eyebrows arched in your direction. “Iris?”
You exhaled, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “It’s a nickname. Shoko gave it to me when we first met, and it stuck.”
“Ah, so Shoko knew about whatever this is, but I didn’t?” He asked as his gaze slid back to the teacher. You noticed that his smile dropped from his face.
“I had to get healed somehow,” you snapped.
“Healed?” Gojo scoffed incredulously, keeping his sight pinned on Yaga. “What, she’s been going on missions, then? Alone?”
“Special assignments,” Yaga replied firmly. “Ones she’s uniquely equipped for.”
“But only first grades and special grades are allowed to go out on missions alone,” Gojo responded calmly, his eyes narrowing.
He swiveled his attention back to you. “And if there were another sorcerer of that level, I would’ve known about it.”
Cocky asshole.
“I guess there’s a lot you don't know about yet,” you quipped, your voice sickly sweet.
Before Gojo could respond, Yaga interjected. “She’s a special grade sorcerer.”
His jaw ticked, but he kept his cool demeanor. “Then if she can hold her own, why keep her a secret?”
“The higher-ups decided her technique was too valuable to broadcast to the world, so she was brought here,” Yaga started. “The only reason I know is because I was assigned to train her when she arrived."
“That still doesn’t explain why no one told me .”
“They decided to keep her existence from you until you proved your loyalty to Jujutsu High.”
You watched as Gojo shifted his weight, realization hitting him as Yaga spoke.
They trusted him because he didn’t leave with Geto.
“Now that you know about her, you’ll be expected to keep this information to yourself.”
Gojo turned his attention back to you. He stepped forward, scanning the room in a slow, deliberate sweep.
“So your technique is so special that they keep you hidden in this old dusty building, huh?” His smug smirk returned.
You were normally a level-headed person, but his taunting made your blood boil. You fought hard to swallow the annoyance bubbling up in you. His stare found yours, and you met it with a soft, innocent smile.
“What can I say?” you bit back, your voice sickly sweet. “It’s hard work being the strongest sorcerer alive.”
Gojo’s smile faltered for a moment, but it returned so quickly that you wondered if you had imagined it.
The darkness returned to his eyes as he took another step forward into the room, his hands tucked in the pockets of his uniform.
“And why would you say that?” he spat, his tone still cheery despite the anger simmering in his words. “I don’t need to use my Six Eyes to tell that your cursed energy barely outranks Nanami’s. I would hardly call that special .”
Hopping down from your place on the desk, you giggled, drawing a sneer out of the boy in front of you.
You knew that he was going to be cold, but you didn’t expect him to be this icy.
There wasn’t time to dwell on that, though. This was the moment you had been waiting for. You angled your head to meet the sharp edge in his glare.
“And yet here you are, standing in front of a girl so powerful she’s been kept as a secret weapon,” you snarled back at him. “I know you’ve spent your whole life being treated like you’re a gift to the world, but maybe you’re not as special as you thought.”
Gojo recoiled as though you had just slapped him across the face.
You got him.
Before you had a chance to celebrate your win, you noticed it.
His eyes.
The color of his irises darkened to a cobalt as you felt his cursed energy flare around you. Although you knew what to expect, you still had to fight the fear that built in the core of your stomach. It felt like every inch of skin it touched was being encased in hot electricity, threatening to burn you alive.
You were aware of the fact that Gojo’s control over his cursed energy was exceptionally advanced, so you knew he hadn’t just slipped up because he got angry. The arrogant bastard was testing you.
Fine.
You dug your heels in, holding your ground. Behind Gojo, you heard Yaga yell out some kind of warning. Ignoring him, you looked up into the blue orbs drilling a hole into you. Your lips curled into a deadly grin, and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyebrows lilt.
“Are you threatening me, Satoru Gojo?”
His eyes were wild, his pupils blown wide. “You said you were the strongest, right? Well, show me what you’ve got, then.”
You stepped into the wall of his energy, every movement dragging under the weight of his Limitless. Still, you leaned closer, until the veil of his technique was the only thing between you.
“You sure you can handle it?” you warned, voice low.
He didn’t move. He just smirked- that same egotistical grin you’d been dreaming of wiping off his face.
With a deep breath, you lifted your thumb to your teeth. In one motion, you ripped into your flesh, drawing a slick ribbon of crimson. Warm rivulets dripped down your palm onto the floor, pooling at your feet.
Gojo’s eyes widened. His body shifted back as if instinct was pulling him away.
You brought your torn thumb to the base of your temple, swiping the ichor across the whites of your eyes in one smooth motion.
“Cursed Technique: Oracle’s Sight.”
The oxygen bled from the room as golden tendrils of energy uncoiled through the space, tasting every surface they touched. The atmosphere surrounding you thickened until the walls around you seemed to hum under the pressure.
Your pupils vanished from your sclerae, lolling into the back of your head, but your vision sharpened in unbearable detail.
For a beat, your body froze in place as wave after wave of information flooded your mind.
It ended as quickly as it began, and you stepped forward, letting your cursed energy run free.
Gojo clambered backward, an arm rising to shield his Six Eyes from the onslaught of information that suddenly appeared before him. You heard Yaga yelling in the background, but your sole focus was on the white-haired boy in front of you.
You stood in the center of the room, letting the golden light thoroughly saturate the space before releasing your technique.
The tendrils dissolved. The weight lifted.
You rubbed your eyes with the pads of your fingers as they slid back into focus. Gojo lowered his arm slowly; his mouth hung agape, and he seemed to stand frozen.
You met his slack-jawed stare with a pleased smile.
“Satisfied?”
For what might have been the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo was rendered speechless.