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Skin [Gojo Satoru x Sorcerer!Reader]

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS, mentions of violence/injury/death, implied PTSD, light angst but fluff/comfort ending.

Summary: A lengthy dive into the reality of traumas, their effect on the individual and others around him. Over the course of a decade, Gojo and Reader's relationship continue to slowly build and grow while Gojo works on understanding and moving past his trauma, learning to be vulnerable and trusting again.

Alt: “So how come when I reach out my fingers, it feels like more than distance between us. In this California king bed, we're 10, 000 miles apart. I've been California wishing on these stars, for your heart for me.” - California King Bed by Rihanna

Code: [Y/L/N] = Your Last Name + [Y/N] = Your Name

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Gojo Satoru was an excellent student and a powerful sorcerer in the making. He was, after all, a descendent of the Gojo lineage; one of the few strongest clans of jujutsu sorcerers in Japan. He was a year ahead of you, being one of the three second-years at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Tech.

You were a first-year student with Nanami, just starting out your studies under the sorcerers to get a better handle on your own curse and its techniques. Gojo was a simple person with a complex personality. He had a sweet tooth and goofy sense of humour; priding himself on penis jokes and harmless pranks that got on his friends’ nerves. Gojo was a charming and charismatic guy who vowed to support and protect the people he cared about and those who were oblivious to curses, but he also had no problem being cruel and ungiving to the people he despised.

You had the pleasure of being on the better end of things with Gojo, often encouraging yourself to work harder with hopes of one day being just as strong as Gojo himself, or even Getō. With Jujutsu Tech being such an… exclusive academy—if you could even call it that—the two of you would train together when you weren’t in class or on separate field trips, so to speak. You and Gojo got on really well, keeping each other on your toes constantly by using teases as a tactic to distract, especially during tactical training.

If you were to be quite honest, training against Gojo and his techniques was a real pain in the ass, only because he was one of the most adept sorcerers you had to go against. Sure, you have had your field training against Grade 4 and maybe Grade 3 curses, and you have also fought against Getō and Yaga-sensei but Gojo was a little beyond that. He had a plethora of amazing cursed techniques that he just seemed so naturally good at.

Regardless of how vexing it could be both during training and afterwards when you would wallow in some self-doubt, Gojo always made every session fun and would find some way to encourage you to keep practicing. He seemed to be a natural at keeping things lighthearted, making him quite a ball of good energy to be around.

At some point during your first year and his second year at Jujutsu Tech, he sustained a near-death injury at the hands of Fushiguro Toji. The group sent out to deal with the Time Vessel Association in Okinawa came back to the Tokyo campus after their mission. It was within that split second of vulnerability where Gojo deactivated his cursed technique, Infinity, believing the mission was over and that he was safe.

Gojo decided on one important thing that day; to never let his guard down. Up until that point, he had believed that it was okay to deactivate his technique, as it took up cursed energy to constantly have it shield him, and it did but not that it mattered with his unlimited reserve. He deactivated his techniques when he was alone on the campus or when he didn’t sense any danger. You were aware of this ability, having trained against him before, but it never dawned on you that you never encountered him without Infinity activated.

With Gojo keeping his cursed technique constantly running ever since the incident, it became something of second nature. A few months following your graduation, Gojo had returned from an overseas mission in South Korea which consisted of a long list of curses that needed to be dealt with. Having been out of high school himself for about a year, it was nice to be home and the two of you had a lot to catch up on.

Somewhere along the line, he had asked you on a date. One you didn’t take too seriously because it was, after all, Gojo Satoru; when was he ever truly serious and down-to-business? He took you off-campus to Akihabara, finding a decent restaurant to dine at before dragging you through a slew of arcades. The two of you wrapped up the night at a small dessert cafe, sharing a bowl of shaved iced. It was a fun time, something you truly haven’t had the pleasure to enjoy since Gojo graduated.

You expected that to have been the one and only time Gojo would ask you out, but it wasn’t. Time and time again, he would find some way to get you out of your room when you weren’t training or going out to hunt down curses. His free time when he was in Tokyo, was divided between local missions, visiting Fushiguro’s son and being an enemy of the state campus. After your sixth date, you decided to bring it up. The two of you had found a spot near the Yokohama Red Brick Warehouse, sitting on some random bench, staring out into the waters.

With a small grin, you teased the white-haired man, “When are you planning to take a real girl on a date?”

Gojo paused at your question, confused. “Am I not on a date right now?”

The two of you slowly turned to each other as you looked past his sunglasses for any sign of it being another one of his pranks while he tried to figure out why you hadn’t understood his intentions the whole time.

“Are you joking,” the two of you chimed simultaneously, earning a brief moment of silence before the two of you burst out into a fit of laughter. Gojo was the first to sober up, while you continued to hide behind your hand.

“[Y/L/N]-chan~ we’ve gone on,” he paused, counting his fingers. “Six dates. We’ve gone on six dates.”

Your laughter subsided as confusion settled again, “What?”

“[Y/L/N], we’ve been going on dates… this whole time,” Gojo snorted, an eyebrow quirked at your current state. “Did you… not know?”

Turning back to face the ocean, you took a moment of silence to micro-analyze everything that had happened since he got back from Korea. To you, his absence from campus when he was in town was either for work or what you assumed was him going to see other people—girls to be more exact–as he was most definitely a popular guy.

“I just assumed your free time away from campus meant you were going on dates,” you shrugged, leaning back into the bench. His gaze was apparent, burning holes into your side profile but you refused to look him in the eyes.

For years you had like Gojo, his personality, his charm, his methods of keeping you motivated to do your studies and to practice your jujutsu. Not once did you consider being upfront about your feelings, claiming them to be some stupid crush that would go away as you got older.

Gojo doubled over in another fit of laughter, earning a glare from you as you watched him howl over his knees, arms clasped tightly around his torso, “What’s so funny? Was I wrong to assume you and your desire to only be taken seriously every once in a blue moon was joking when you called these outings, “dates”?”

Your air quotes seemed to tame his hysteria. He took off his sunglasses, a finger coming up to brush a tear from the corner of his eyes.

“[Y/L/N], I’m off campus visiting a boy in my free time,” he finally responded. Your brief shock of yet another round of confusion eased the moment he waved his hand. “No, no. You remember how in your first year, there was that little incident?”

Taken aback by the reminder, you coughed, “Oh you’re calling it a little incident. I’ve been calling it attempted murder all these years, but sure, why?”

Gojo explained the situation surrounding the man that had attacked him on campus, elaborating on the events that were seemingly kept under wraps by Yaga-sensei and the other higher-ups. The man had a son and a step-daughter, who he had vouched for to ensure they were taken care of until the son was of age to attend Jujutsu Tech.

It was a lot to take in, not that you were surprised Gojo of all people would do such a thing; taking on the responsibility of caring for someone who had been a victim of curses. Once he had cleared the air around the misunderstanding, Gojo took it upon himself to ask you on yet another date, this time ensuring you understood that he was and had always been serious about asking you out.

Within the first year of your guys’ relationship, Gojo had taken you with him to visit the younger Fushiguro, who at the time was in second grade. Gojo tried to meddle as little as possible with Fushiguro, balancing the line of offering his presence in-lieu of Fushiguro’s parents but also ensuring that the child still had his own life. This meant he actually visited Fushiguro often, but a lot of the time it was just a casual look from across the street or in passing.

Between you and Gojo, the relationship was alright. Not much had changed as you both still resided on campus in separate rooms when the two of you were not out on missions. Missions are what took up most of your guys’ time, considering how it was part of your jobs as sorcerers. The sparse times that the two of you had were filled with walks around campus, dates in the city and the occasional movie night here and there.

Something had felt off. For the entire duration of the relationship, you failed to pinpoint exactly what that anomaly was. The two of you had known each other for five years; three spent as friends, the other two as adults in a romantic relationship.

It could not have been a trust issue, right?

You were happy, and you were sure he was too.

At some point, Gojo was sent off to Hokkaido to deal with a special grade curse that had been wreaking havoc at one of the ski resorts while your freed-up schedule left you thinking.

It was Ieiri who had brought it up. The two of you were in the city sharing some drinks at a little bar when you had brought up your recent dilemma.

“Maybe your love language is physical touch,” she had suggested, her glass of liquor swinging around as she spoke. “Do you guys… touch a lot when you’re together?”

Hesitant at first, you remained quiet until her side-eye tipped you over the edge of secrecy, “Yeah? I mean we do all that couple shit when we have time alone if that's what you mean?”

Her glass stopped spinning. You tilted your head, waiting for her to figure out her thoughts.

“[Y/L/N], have you ever touched him—I mean, has he started to deactivate Infinity around you?”

“Deactivate… Infinity,” you repeated, eyes shifting as you spoke. “Does he not deactivate when he’s alone?”

It had been beyond you that Gojo never fully recovered from the incident with Toji, not mentally at least. It was understandable that it had without a doubt given him a trauma he was not able to shake, despite the front he may have offered. Ieiri had been there to see the extent of his injuries from the sudden attack, you were not, but from the way she explained what had happened following the attack, it was enough to make you bite your lip in place of visibly flinching. Ieiri also alluded that she had taken notice that Gojo became less touchy in general after the incident. You never had to consider his cursed technique getting in between you guys, both literally and figuratively, until it was brought up by her.

Following that night, the whole premise surrounding physical contact with Gojo suddenly felt obscured because you realized that despite the two years together, physical contact was not rare but neither was it a constantly recurring thing. You initiated some of the contact, like a quick kiss on the cheek or a brush over his lips. Occasionally there would be a hug somewhere in between or ahead propped against a shoulder but those were the bigger movements of physical affection. Something that Gojo took the lead on, albeit rarely.

Once again, work kept the two of you apart due to the lack of sorcerers in the world. Yaga-sensei sending you off to help out at the Kyoto Jujutsu campus a few days after your night with Ieiri put a lot of emphasis on that final thought.

You didn’t get a chance to see Gojo for another two weeks until you were finally sent back to Tokyo following the clean-up of some mess the first years in Kyoto had accidentally started. By then, the exhaustion of sleeping somewhere other than your own bed had caught up to you. The confusion surrounding Gojo and his Infinity was long forgotten until the two of you had gotten caught up in a small teasing match in his dorm.

“You would most definitely lose,” he taunted, wiggling a finger just inches from your nose. “You wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

The stupidly competitive side of you itched deep within your core, “You want a bet?”

With your legs crossed, you sat still as Gojo moved closer to your body. His tall frame leaned over your smaller sitting stature as he shifted side to side, trying to elicit some sort of reaction from you. Your eyes followed his every movement, taut on the blindfold over his eyes but you couldn’t help the smile that had broken across your face.

“See,” you started. “I missed you, but not enough that I feel the need to be all handsy with y-”

Your words died in your throat as he lifted blindfold enough to peek one eye from under the black fabric. His sharp, glacial cavern-like iris peered at you, watching as you fell into your usual trance. The one he never failed to trap you in with his gaze. His eyes free from obstruction of his sunglasses or blindfolds always left you mesmerized, breathless even. You would get lost in his eyes, it was too hard not to. He was so focused on your reaction he forgot about what always came next.

Your dominant hand always moved on its own following your trance. It was the one thing that would root you back to reality from the deep gaze his eyes would lock you into. Your hand would come up to his cheek, cupping the side of his face—or at least it would try. You were always too distracted to notice, that no matter how many times you repeated the same actions like a ripple effect of well-rehearsed habits, he was never truly able to let you touch him. At least that was not always the case.

Caught up in the moment, Gojo’s Infinity stopped your hand further than he usually allowed for. Your eyes shifted from his eyes to your hand, now fully aware that your hand had stopped short of their usual resting place. There was an unmistakable gasp, a quiet one that almost went missing as he gulped at the sudden registration of what was happening.

Your hands trembled at your own doing but also against the barrier he had between the two points of contact. He retracted some of his cursed energy, shrinking Infinity but never fully deactivating. You watched as your hand moved closer towards his cheek, but you caught sight of a paper-thin gap, a shield preventing your hand from truly touching him.

For once, Gojo had nothing to say. There were a billion thoughts running in his head all at once, but not one synapse of his was able to even pull a few into one coherent sentence. He took a seat as you pulled your hand away from him. His hand moved up to finally remove his blindfold entirely, his platinum hair fell over his forehead.

“Satoru,” your soft voice shook Gojo from thoughts, pulling his attention back to you. “You don’t deactivate Infinity around me, do you?”

His eyes averted once again, picking to idly stare at his covers instead. Of all things he could say without a filter, telling you the only time Infinity is at its thinnest is when the two of you had sex, was not it. Even with something as intimate as that, you have never quite touched his skin, flesh-to-flesh. Not by hand.

He didn’t need to say anything, you got the hint loud and clear, and it hurt. Even when you two were supposedly at your most vulnerable and intimate moments, you never got to touch it. The illusory effect you were under for the last two years—your own inattentiveness—had veiled you from noticing the lack of touch in your relationship.

Part of you wanted to be mad, but you just did not have it within you to feel that way, not when you understood to a degree, what he had endured having let his guard down that one time. It almost cost him his life, and it almost did. Had it not been for the reversed curse technique from Ieiri’s doing, he would not be seated in front of you at that very moment.

With a troubled sigh, you got up from his bed. The sudden movement caused him to lean back to allow you space but with curious and worried eyes, he watched you walk towards his door.

“Perhaps you do truly have unlimited cursed energy to keep your technique up all the time, but at some point, you’ll run low. That’s gonna put you in more danger than before,” you warned, back still turned to him as your hand touched the doorknob. “It’s ultimately up to you to relearn to trust the people and your environment again, but that is something you can only truly achieve on your own accords.”

That was most definitely not the last time the two of you had any contact. No matter how hurt you both felt to some degree, the words you had left him with rung true. No matter how many people surrounded him and offered him reassuring words and kind smiles, Gojo had to take back the power of trust on his own. At the end of the day, that was not only a mental battle against his own traumatic experience but also his own cursed technique.

It was not an easy feat. During the remainder of his little vacation from overseas missions, Gojo would work on lowering Infinity. At first, he was pushing himself too much, getting frustrated when he could not fully deactivate it, and when he did finally lower it, he would try to do small tasks during the bright of day. He was overthinking it, and Ieiri had realized the disgruntled mannerisms behind Gojo’s sudden tense mood swings were over his Infinity debacle.

“You do shower don’t you?”

Offended, Gojo looked down at Ieiri, ready to retaliate with some snarky comeback, “OF COURSE I DO! I TAKE PERSONAL HYGIENE VERY SERIOUSLY-”

“So you do deactivate your ability,” she mumbled, cutting her friend off as she started to scrub at the examination slab. She could sense his confusion without even looking up, only then parting a sigh as she paused to wave her bristled cleaning brush in the air. “You subconsciously deactivate when you shower, I assume? Otherwise, you wouldn’t really be showering, you disgusting buffoon.”

He tested her theory out that night, consciously checking to make sure the water did in fact touch his skin. It did, and then it didn’t. If he focused too hard, the water would start to repel off of the thin air around him. He grew frustrated again, realizing that overthinking how to shower without Infinity would only lead it to its activation again.

Why did two years of subconscious habit suddenly feel more disappointing but also comforting to rely on than trying to get better? He had mastered so many of his techniques with ease, spending more time prior to the incident without Infinity than he did now, yet two years and an accident was all it took for him to run Infinity like a computer mining for codes in the dead of night.

For months he would practice lowering his defences with small tasks again. He would lower as much as he could consciously while he brushed his teeth alone, or while he was doing his chores. Then eventually he started to lower it when the sky got dark, but an unsettling shiver would tickle up his spine and send electrical pulses across his skin when he did. His fight or flight response… There was just too much of a risk doing it at night.

The one time he tried to sleep without Infinity, his mind had conjured up a traumatic retelling of the incident. Covered in a sheen of cold sweat and a harsh thrumming of his heart, he stopped trying to mess with Infinity. With an onslaught of new missions and the approval of his request to be a teacher at Jujutsu Tech, Gojo’s schedule got too busy for him to maintain his practice anyways.

Unlike Gojo, you actually visited little Fushiguro personally on multiple occasions. He was a quiet nut who expressed little but the two of you got on rather well. Knowing Gojo spent a lot of time away from Tokyo, you substituted yourself as Fushiguro’s mentor on weekends. His step-sister was a kind girl who asked you lots about being an adult, fascinated with the things she couldn’t wait to do when she was old enough. She was an absolute sweetheart, and you would do anything to protect the two of them.

Juggling missions, training and individual time, it took about a year or two before you and Gojo were able to even spend time as friends and coworkers if you will. Despite still talking here and there, it was just hard to find time to truly catch up. Once you guys found your footing again, occasional group hangouts resumed and so did training together.

Five years from the night you two break up—not that Gojo kept track or anything—Gojo had convinced you to climb the roof of Jujutsu Tech for old times sake and share some drinks, having expected the long weekend to provide comfort to relax and enjoy yourselves. The occasional banter the two of you shared on a regular basis could not compete with an intimate moment on the rooftop, just barely looking past the treelines and down at Tokyo in all its urban glow. The two of you had split a pack of beers, drinking and cracking jokes between stories that have yet to be shared.

Gojo found himself staring at you the way he did all those years ago, tipsy with a hint of adoration behind his mask. You were laughing at an exorcism he and one of his students had just barely managed to pull after a nasty four-hour game of hide-and-seek with a special-grade curse in Miyazaki.

Only partially under the influence of alcohol, Gojo interrupted your fit of giggles.

“[Y/N]—Sorry, [Y/L/N]-san,” he paused, trying to find the right way to convey his thoughts without a barrage of questions. “Have your feelings changed?”

Your laughter ceased, expression growing solemn as you figured out your own thoughts. He watched with anticipation, his skin itching and his hand twitching with a need to push himself closer to you, but then you smiled.

“If you’re asking if I’m seeing anyone, no. I haven’t had time to even consider dating after we broke up,” you chuckled truthfully, taking a sip from your can. Down to your last drop, you threw your head back once to confirm an empty can before you sighed.

Gojo seemed to relax, content with the answer but you continued, “If you’re asking about the break-up, I’m still firm with my words.”

The white fox looked over at you. Now on the verge of being 27 and you having already turned 26, it was with certainty that little has changed. It was both comforting but also unsettling to him. His head tilted at your response, urging you to continue.

“Maybe it was selfish of me, but the pain of knowing I have never once truly known the feel of your skin against my own despite the intimate moments we had, that upset me. It was this… mirage of an understanding that we did touch—like normal people—I was oblivious for two years,” you reasoned. There was a strain to your voice, but Gojo remained silent. “For what it’s worth, I still admire you. I don’t hate you Gojo, I did my best—and I’m still doing my best—to empathize with your trauma, however, I still firmly believe that there is potential for you to reclaim your trust again.”

Gojo nodded, his lower lip was tucked between his teeth as the words settled him. Your voice soothed him and the alcohol made the whole context of roof-sitting at eleven on a Friday evening seemed innocuous, but a better part of him knew he wanted closure or some hope.

“I’m just worried that we shouldn’t be together until you have yourself figured out and have the trust that you need.”

Closure was not what he got.

The following day, Gojo woke up a little more tired than usual but he still found himself in Yaga’s personal space. The sensei was sewing away at a new cursed doll. The one before him was a lot more colourful than his usual creations. A patchwork of blue, pink and yellow, Yaga held the fabrics together by hand as he gently pierced the edges repeatedly.

Gojo’s quiet, lurking presence irked the sensei, prompting him to pause his stitching to raise an eyebrow at the alumnus. Gojo took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before making an odd request. Yaga took his time to consider the predicament his old student had gotten himself in, weighing out the worth but also trying to find a suitable idea that would fit the request that was put forth.

Yaga waved a hand at the array of fabrics he had laid out next to him, prompting Gojo to take his pick. He settled on two colours, one being your favourite and the other that he personally liked. He thanked the principal with a bow, bounding off before Yaga could ask any questions.

Fushiguro had been having a rough time in junior high and with it being his final year before high school, Yaga and Gojo both thought that it would be beneficial for Gojo to spend more time with the growing delinquent before he graduated. You had heard about the fights yourself but the higher-ups had plucked you out of Tokyo to have you placed in Kyoto, providing assistance with graduation prep; something that required a lot of examinations both written and physical.

While you were gone for the next few months, Gojo worked hard to shape up Fushiguro as well as himself. The boy himself asked about you every once in a while, quietly missing someone who was not as childish for their age as was Gojo himself, but the older of the two knew about as much as he could share without worrying the teen.

“Why did you guys break up?” Fushiguro asked out of the blue one day. He had asked you before, but he was curious about his mentor’s side of the story. That and he was clearly trying to buy some time before Gojo had him taming his stupid technique again.

Gojo patted Fushiguro’s messy hair, irking the teen as he tried to scoot away. You and Gojo both had a tendency to do it and he only liked it a little more when it was you initiating the endearing expression.

“I wasn’t ready,” was all he had said before jumping up from his spot in the grass. “Now quit slacking, we got to get you in shape for graduation.”

Fushiguro tutted, easing off the ground himself, “Isn’t my admission already guaranteed?”

Gojo pursed his lips, “I mean I could always revoke it.”

Fushiguro narrowed his eyes at 6’3 giant before him, “You wouldn’t.”

The playful mentor offered him a shrug, poking his tongue out before going into a dramatic lunge. He outstretched his arm at his mentee, a finger beckoning him to step forward, “Guess you better prove to me you’re still worthy of Jujutsu Tech’s exclusive letter of admission.”

The doll that Gojo had requested from Yaga was an odd one. It looked like a patchwork rabbit with the two colours he had picked out and the eyes were black and beady. It wore a bib around its neck and had an anatomically incorrect marsupial pouch that contained a smaller version of the rabbit itself. It had been one of Yaga’s obvious Cursed Corpses, both dolls imbued with his energy. According to Yaga, the small one was sensitive to the energy from cursed spirits. If cursed spirits were present, the bunny would disappear further into the pouch of the bigger rabbit, while the bigger rabbit detected Gojo’s specific cursed energy. If it sensed that Gojo was expelling his energy for Infinity, it would thump. Of course, the thumping grew obnoxious as Gojo subconsciously had Infinity activated. He lost quite a lot of sleep the first week…

The smaller bunny gave him a sense of mind, having both dolls within range when he was in his own room. When he slept, he kept a hand on the smaller bunny and encouraged himself to sleep through the night without Infinity. The mistrust for his own environment started to change he found himself trusting the smaller rabbit to tell him if danger was near.

About a week after he got comfortable and the thumping ceased, the bigger rabbit started to attack him when he put his guard up. He had gone to complain to Yaga after getting used as a parkour wall one too many times, but Yaga simply shrugged and told him he was only abiding by the request that Gojo had initially left him with.

“I don’t remember training you to give up so easily.”

That was all Yaga had parted Gojo with before shoving him out his dojo, leaving the sorcerer to pout passively at the doll in his hand. He paced back to his room, the doll held at arm's length away as he grumbled to himself.

Gojo had anticipated seeing you at the end of the year, but when things went awry with Geto, he wanted nothing more than to selfishly ask you to come back early for his sake. Hell, if you couldn’t leave Kyoto, he had no problem teleporting over himself, but his decision was being heavily narrowed down to one thing and one thing in particular; was he ready to be vulnerable in front of you?

Even when he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place, wanting the comfort of someone he was familiar and comfortable being intimate with, he was yet again hearing the tiny voice that told him vulnerability was anything but an option. His thumb hovered over your contact, a small green dot indicating your online status tempted him to just give you a call, but he knew. You were not the type to buy into the I’m fine bullshit, and at any moment’s notice, would drop everything to be there for someone in need. Gojo lost his chance to talk to you the moment the green dot disappeared; you had gone offline.

Whilst in Kyoto, you had a feeling. An intuitive tickle in the pit of your stomach that Gojo’s status was an indication he wanted to talk. He didn’t keep many people on that very account you were watching from your own phone—it was the one he only shared with sorcerers. You knew about what happened in Tokyo, you had gotten the report following your own battles in Kyoto against the parade of curses in Kyoto but alas, you knew despite your feelings of wanting to be there for Gojo, he needed to be the one to reach out to you first. It was what you deemed as part of the process for him to relearn trust and vulnerability. A heavy sigh was all it took for you to turn off your phone, slipping further into the hot bath you had started for yourself.

“Oi! Panda, Maki, Toge, I need a little favour,” Gojo calls out, waving the two second-years over. Maki rolled her eyes, following the two boys over to where their sensei was standing under a tree at the far end of the field.

The girl tuts, crossing her arms over her chest as she neared Gojo, “You’re not our teacher this year, we don’t need to do your biddings if that’s what you want.”

Stilling for a moment to take in the students’ rather unimpressed looks before he smirks, “What if it’s about your beloved [Y/L/N]-sensei?”

The three of them shouted at Gojo, bursting with energy from their spot at the mention of you. Even after only spending a few months with you in their first year and a few months before Okkotsu’s departure overseas, the current second-years have grown to love sparring with you. Unlike Gojo, you actually lost a few of your training battles against them, making them feel more like sorcerers with a chance of winning against a special grade. Plus, you took the position of being a teacher a lot more seriously, despite it not officially being your occupational title.

“Takana?” Toge motions to the grass beneath him, to which Panda nodded while Maki was leaning on the tip of her toes with anticipation.

“How come I never get this kind of excitement?” Gojo muses playfully as he tried to ignore their eagerness to hear more about his so-called favourite. “Anyways, [Y/L/N]-san is coming back from her mission in New York at the end of next week. However, the higher-ups are asking me to go out to Hiroshima before then. I’m not sure if I’ll be back in time but I want to make sure I get to see them at least once before they leave for their next mission.”

The number of details Gojo was sharing for once threw the three of them in for a loop, Toge furrowing his eyebrows first but Panda raised a finger, “So you want us to keep them from leaving early?”

Gojo nods while Maki squinted at the teacher, “Why don’t you just ask Fushiguro, hasn’t he known them longer?”

“He has,” Gojo chuckles, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen over his mask. “But he asks too many questions and I really just need you guys to do whatever you can to keep them here long enough. [Y/L/N]-san can’t possibly say no to eager students who want to perfect their techniques.”

Sharing a glance with one another, Gojo let out an obnoxious laugh, throwing a thank you over his shoulder as he walked off to do whatever it was that Gojo did on campus on weekends. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew that confusion would start to fester amongst his first-years as well when they were given the chance next to speak with their seniors. As long as the first-years’ curiosity got no further than the same knowledge that Gojo had given the second-years, his plan would work out just fine. Fushiguro would probably message him to ask, but he couldn’t be bothered to answer unless it was an emergency.

The special-grade sorcerer departed for his mission the morning before you got back to Tokyo. Nitta was excitedly talking your ear off in the car, going over all the exciting missions the first-years had gotten involved in. When you left for New York, Fushiguro was still the only first-year enrolled. It became apparent now that there were two new students with him, Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara. The former having been a non-curse user until he ate the first of many fingers belonging to Sukuna and of course Gojo of all sorcerers went to defer the teen’s death sentence…

Perking up at the thought, you tried to keep your eyes on the highway ahead of you and your voice sounding uninterested, “Speaking of Satoru, is he out on a mission?”

Nitta nodded, relaying what she knew about his current mission. Knowing him, he might be back well before the expected duration of the mission, but there would also be a chance you wouldn’t catch him before you left again yourself.

Back on campus, the first and second-years were on the field, sparring against one another under the nice sun. With his teal knuckle bracers, Panda threw a punch at Itadori, the latter just barely blocking the attack with his forearms yet the force still sent him across the field. You watched with Nitta at your side, wincing at the stark lines of dirt the pink-haired boy was leaving on the field from trying to withstand Panda’s energy.

Hiding behind your hand, you prepared to stifle the laughter that was bubbling with anticipation as Panda launched himself into the air high enough to gain an advantage on the first year. With a heavy thump, Panda sat on Itadori, squishing the teen into the grass.

Itadori struggled under Panda’s weight, fists drumming against the ground beneath him to deter his senior from sitting any longer. The laugh that escaped you caught everyone’s attention, Panda instantly bounding over to you with the other second-years.

“[Y/L/N]-sensei!”

Toge, Maki and Panda all came running over to you, while the first-years stood up. All three of them threw out questions about your mission and about your overall well-being while Kugisaki nudged Itadori, “They’re a teacher?”

Fushiguro cracks a smile that doesn't go unnoticed by his friends, both instantly jumping back a few feet at the rare expression on his features.

Itadori’s yelling caught everyone’s attention, “FUSHIGURO IS SMILING?!”

Kugisaki followed suit with her own squeal of shock. Walking over, you bowed at the two first-years, “You two must be Kugisaki and Itadori. I heard quite a lot about you guys.”

A flush took over their cheeks as they scrambled to bow, introducing themselves to you as you did the same. Turning over to the raven-haired boy, you offered him a big smile to match his own as he ducked his head for you to ruffle his hair.

“I heard about your recent improvements too, Megumi,” your use of Fushiguro’s first name short-circuited Itadori and Kugisaki as the two of them tried to get a sense of what was happening and who you were. “Domain expansion, huh? Congratulations, I’m proud of you.”

Fushiguro lifts his head the moment your hand left his hair, another bright smile still stretched across his face, “Thank you, [Y/L/N]-sensei.”

Having finally recomposed themselves enough, Itadori raises a hand beckoning your attention, “[Y/L/N]-sensei, are you a teacher here?”

Kugisaki was about to berate him when you laughed, waving your hand dismissively, “Yaga-sensei asks me every time he sees me, but I’m still enjoying the ability to travel and work freely. I do help teach and train sometimes but nothing official.”

As if he was waiting for his cue, Principal Yaga appeared from his dojo’s entrance, sunglasses over his eyes and the usual stoic expression giving nothing away, “[Y/L/N], have you come back to take up your offer as a teacher?”

Nudging your head towards Yaga, you gave a see? towards the first-years, “Today is not your lucky day, kōchō-sensei. I got to experience New York for the first time, maybe I’ll move there!”

The teasing smirk you gave the principal went over Kugisaki’s head when she heard New York. Instantly clamouring for more details, the orange-haired girl hurled questions left and right about the city, in particular, wanting to absorb every detail you had to give her.

Principal Yaga interrupted with a reminder for a mission report later, but the manila folder was already being pressed into his hands to which he grinned, “You were always my favourite student.”

Knowing exactly who he was comparing you to, you laugh, “He’s still submitting reports in crayons?”

Fushiguro let out an exasperated sigh, pulling out his phone to show you a picture he took of one of Gojo’s reports. On a small piece of paper were two figures, one who looked like Mike Wazowski redesigned as a volcano and the other... a spider?

“I’m still waiting for the day your habits rub off on him,” Yaga sighs before walking off. He stops halfway and turns to you, “Shoko is in her lab as usual, but I’m sure she’d love to see you after you’re done here.”

Nodding, you thank the principal before turning back to the eager peanut gallery, “Now where was I?”

Having been graciously granted a few days off between missions, you took it casually, finding time to absorb all the authentic Japanese cuisine you missed and catching up with everyone. You even made time to train and get to know the other two first-years, spending time with Fushiguro as well. Kugisaki and Itadori were amazed by how well you fought, your technique and how well Fushiguro was faring against you, smiling through most of his matches undeterred. He was a little more chatty too with you around, and the other two first-years could do nothing more than watch on, completely mesmerized.

On the day of your supposed departure, Ijichi was scheduled to drive you to the airport. He knew it was very unlike you to run behind on your own schedule, but left and right it seemed like the second-years wanted something from you. Panda and Inumaki had woken up extra early to try and bake you a cake. To show your appreciation for their efforts, you offered to indulge them in some light conversations over cake and tea before you left, seeing as you still had four hours before your flight.

At the three-hour mark, Maki wanted to ask you about a new cursed tool she had gotten her hands on, rumour was you had used it a few times when you were a student yourself so you were the only one she could ask for tips and a demonstration from.

Principal Yaga was also seemingly more interested in getting some time with you too, requesting you see him before you left for the airport so he could get your opinions on a new set of rules that higher-ups were looking at implementing in the following semester. Despite being well aware of your pending departure, everyone wanted a crumb of you and your time yet you could not find it within yourself to kindly decline. It wasn’t like you enjoyed waiting at the airport early but you definitely did not enjoy the possibility of being late for your own flight.

An hour before your flight was set to leave, you finally willed yourself to apologize to everyone, reminding them you had a flight to catch. At this point everyone had exhausted their plan to keep you on campus, growing worried they would have failed to uphold the favour for Gojo. Yaga on the other hand was waiting on the steps of the dojo, watching the stone path leading from the entrance of the campus.

With a sigh, you stop in front of him, luggage standing behind you, “You really do not need to see me off, I know you have your tasks, Yaga-sensei.”

The principal huffs, arms crossed over his broad chest as he continued to stare at the path ahead of him, “I’m simply monitoring the campus entrance as the school’s principal, you just happen to be leaving right now.”

You chuckle at the man’s attempt to play off his soft side but maybe you had been mistaken. Your hand came down to your luggage handle, ready to finally meet Ijichi when Fushiguro and the other two first-years came waltzing over.

“Have a safe trip, [Y/L/N]-sensei,” the three of them part with enthusiasm, less from Fushiguro but the small smile made its appearance.

You grin at the warm parting goodbyes you had received from everyone on campus, giving them a little wave, “Keep studying hard. You three have so much potential, I want to hear about your growth in reports even when I’m overseas, okay?”

The three of them nod with a small bow before everyone perks up at the familiar presence behind you. A sly smile stretches across your features as you close your eyes with content, “And here I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I would never,” Gojo chirps, turning your attention fully towards him. His usual black blindfold over his eyes, standing proudly in his uniform. Offering you his elbow, he nudges his head towards the path of the school, “We can catch up on our walk.”

You give him a small nod, wrapping your hand around the crook off his arm while your other tugged at your suitcase. The sound of the little wheels rocked over the stone path, leaving Principal Yaga and the students on the steps of the dojo.

“They seem close,” Itadori points out cluelessly to which Kugisaki silently agrees. Maki, Panda, Toge and Nitta also join them on the wooden steps, watching the two of you get smaller and smaller. Gojo was obnoxiously laughing about something.

Fushiguro turns to the principal, “You think he’ll finally do it?”

Yaga guffaws, “He better.”

Confused, Kugisaki and Itadori both crinkle their noses, “Do what?”

“Propose,” the rest of the present members deadpan as if they had been rehearsing this for a long time.

“Tch—I still think [Y/L/N]-sensei could do better,” Maki grumbles, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

“Ikura,” Inumaki shrugged, disappearing further into the collar of his jacket for a split moment before popping back up, hand gesturing to the teachers, “Tsuna, tsuna.”

Gojo had asked you about New York on your walk to the torii gate, and you were more than happy to tell him about all the types of people you encountered. He had only been to New York once for an overnight mission once, but you were stationed there for a lot longer. The culture shock was really something for you to note in comparison to Japan. The people were interesting but after a while, it made you more homesick than anything else.

“Time Square was really busy, but I’m not going to lie, it’s not as exciting as you would expect. Or maybe it wasn’t as fun being alone,” you shrugged slightly dejected. “What have you been up to all this time?”

The tall sorcerer reaches his hand up to gently tug a flower from a tree as he passes under it, “Working.”

You sigh again, briefly sparing a glance at Gojo, “We both have, but tell me more specifically about yoursel-”

Your words got caught on your lips as Gojo delicately wedges the stem of the flower behind your ear. You stutter, struggling to find your words, but your entire train of thoughts jets out of the station when he tugs his blindfold down to his neck.

Platinum locks fall over his forehead but it was hard to miss the shocking blue eyes watching you softly from above. The glacier caverns behind his eyes pull your hand up like a trance, the same one you could never cease falling for, like a mistake you never stop making no matter how many times you were reprimanded for it.

Stopping yourself short from his cheek, you snap out of your daze, apologizing for your actions but Gojo cupped your hand up to his skin, leaning into your touch.

The shocking warmth contrasted his pale complexion. His peachy undertone just barely noticeable under the shade of overhanging branches. You were… touching Gojo. The feeling of soft skin raised the hairs on your arms, a visible shiver tickled the back of your neck.

His smile grew softer, yet wide enough it put the Cheshire Cat to shame, “I’ve been working on myself.”

In an instant, Gojo gets down on one knee, your hand remains stiff from where it once was, unsure of what to do following the unbelievable contact it just made. The very kind you had been selfishly vying after for years, although it remained a secret of yours. Having finally, truly felt the warmth of his skin against your own, it almost seemed surreal.

Your owl-like eyes only widen even more when Gojo pulls a little black box out of his pocket from the corner of your eye. You take a step back in bewilderment, a hand coming up to your mouth as you watch the man before you, open the small, velvet coffer.

“I know I don’t always look like the type of guy who takes what you have to say seriously, but there are three things that I can remember of our exchanges. The first would be the first day you arrived on campus,” Gojo smiles, blue eyes never once breaking eye contact until he looked away to clear his throat. “You looked me dead in the eyes— squinted even—and told me I look like the type that was popular amongst women but never took them seriously.”

Hiding behind your hand, you laugh, nodding at the memory dancing clear as day in your head. Gojo, Getō and Ieiri were there to greet you and Principal Yaga upon arrival from the airport. Everyone else had given you a warm welcome but Gojo was a little cockier than the others, shamelessly giving you a twice-over before asking if you were single.

Gojo chuckles at himself, “Now the second most memorable thing you’ve also said to me was the night you left me in my room alone for the first time. Up until then, leaving and saying goodnight was a mutual thing, but that night you found out about Infinity and there were so many ways I could have talked my way into making you stay but you were right, as always. ”

You didn’t miss the way the sorcerer purses his lips to the side at the confession but he continues without missing a beat, “You basically told me, in your own… humble—is that the right word? Humble way that you couldn’t see us together. At first, I was upset. I went from desperately trying to cling onto what we had out of comfort to a split moment of anger because it felt like you were giving up.”

Crouching down to be eye-level with Gojo, you shook your head, “I would never give up Gojo, you know that.”

He nods, “I do, but at the time that wasn’t what it felt like. At least not until I thought about it for a while, but I realized that with as few words as possible, you were just trying to look out for me. I appreciate that.”

“Something you can only truly achieve on your own accords,” the both of you whisper in unison, smiles cracking and Gojo takes a deep breath.

“I spent a long time trying to change a habit I started out of fear and resentment and it was not easy. Who knew second-guessing yourself could procure so much anxiety in someone? Anyways, after a while I stopped trying but then you agreed to climb the roof for old time’s sake for some beer and I realized I wanted a motivator. I know as much as you wanted to help, you were sticking to your words of wanting me to figure myself out on my own because it would be healthier that way. Knowing that you were in some way, still waiting for me— wishful thinking or not —I ran with it. I asked Yaga for help and he made me this really weird-looking doll—anyways yeah. So here I am.”

A little surprised at the abrupt end to his retelling, you tilt your head at him, trying to figure out if there was more. Gojo’s eyes dart side to side, unable to decide which eye to look into as if he was learning to make eye contact for the first time.

You call him by his first time, audibly shaking the man from his reverie and his eyes blew wide, “I still love you, [Y/L/N] [Y/N] and I want to marry you.”

“How am I supposed to consent to this promise of a future marital arrangement if you don’t ask me,” you chuckle, cupping his cheeks with both your hands.

Gojo sighs in mock defeat with a playful roll of his eyes before smiling at you, “[Y/L/N [Y/N], wanna get married?”

It was your turn to sigh, coming to terms that the Gojo Satoru will never succumb to being a hundred percent serious, even with the important likes of a marriage proposal.

Nodding your head, you give into Gojo’s childish antics, “Yes, I’ll marry you, Satoru.”

The smile before you reaches his eyes, the triumph could be seen from a mile away as he took the thin, yet subtly detailed band, from the box, briefly shoving it haphazardly into his pocket before slipping the ring over your finger.

Knowing Gojo, he had a witty comment itching to be said but you pull him for a kiss, craning your neck just enough to shield yourselves from the public eyes outside the dojo with the back of his messy head.

God, you missed those stupid lips.

A cacophony of cheers echoes from where the campus residents were and you brace yourself. Only then did you decide to pull away leaving Gojo to stare at your lips before darting his eyes to meet yours. His expression, unreadable.

“You should change your last name to mine so we can mess with the new students next year,” Gojo breaks out into a fit of laughter as you sunk your fist into his shoulder.

Standing up in a stretch, you roll your eyes at the howling fox beneath you, “We can talk about name-changing when we get married. Until then, I have a flight to catch.”

Gojo jumps up from his spot on the ground, dusting off the pant leg that he had been kneeling on, “Leaving without kissing your future husband? That hurts.”

With your back turned, you purposely flip him your newly-adorned ring finger, “I am not marrying your terrible habit of being late, you’ll just have to wait for my return from battle.”

Gojo smiles to himself, satisfied with the way the ring caught in the sunlight; proud of the choice he made the purchase. Watching you descend down the stairs towards the car Ijichi had been waiting in, under his breath he whispers, “I’ll be waiting for you, sweets.”

I spun the concept of the Punching Bear from EP6 for the doll that Gojo requests from Yaga, but who wants to tell Gojo that the little bunny was just a decorative addition and did not in fact sense cursed spirits?

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