In a universe where Satoru Gojo dons the mantle of Spider-Man, he grapples with the weight of responsibility and the toll it takes on his mental health. As he swings through the city, saving lives and battling inner demons, his relationships begin to strain under the pressure.
This Gojo x Black!Reader story delves deep into his psyche, showcasing the anguish of a hero who always seems to suffer. With an emphasis on angst, watch as Satoru navigates the complexities of love, friendship, and the burden of a secret life—can he find balance, or will the hero's journey consume him?
EPISODE LIST
Episode O: Teaser
Episode I: Origin story? Nah, I'm built different.
Author Note: Drabble that was in my head real bad and I could not help but to write it out now. This may or may not be added to the actual fic later, but as of right now it is non-canon.. I just really like my version of Gojo right now.
❥ Rating: PG-13
❥ Pairing: Spiderman!Gojo x Black!Y/n
❥ Warnings Include: Cigarettes, Y/n feels survivors guilt, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Alcohol consumption, ANGST, Hurt-comfort, Gojo and Y/n really need a hug, past-established relationship, Violence, OC-mentioning, Major character death mentioning
❥ Synopsis: Upon returning to Japan, Y/n realizes she can no longer escape her past. Conflicted by past events, she must reunite and have an honest, heartfelt conversation with the her former lover; the beloved webslinger.
Y/n walked the streets of New Tokyo, familiar yet strangely foreign now, her heart weighed down by the passage of time. Six years had passed since she left for the States to be with her mother, and the city, though unchanged, felt different.
As she silently moved through the downtown streets, groups of teenagers raced by, their laughter echoing against the towering skyscrapers that glittered like jewels in the night sky. She watched them with a soft smile, amused, as memories of her own youth flooded back—when she and her friends had done the same, running wild without a care, with no thought of the future.
Y/n would give anything to return to those days, when she was a quick-witted teenager, unafraid to challenge authority, surrounded by the loyal friends who backed her every word. But that was over now.
Y/n's somber thoughts pulled her away from memories of the past as she made her way to the Shibuya memorial. What had once been a beautiful park, filled with tranquil lakes and winding trails, had been transformed into a burial site to honor those who lost their lives during the Shibuya incident six years ago. She held the white lilies she had been carrying tightly in her hand as she approached the plaque, where a collection of flowers, cards, and candles lay in tribute.
No doubt, others were grieving for their loved ones as well. Y/n watched as families dressed in dark clothing spoke quietly among themselves, still mourning the tragedy. A wave of nausea rose in her throat; she longed to comfort the strangers still affected by that day, but she knew there was nothing she could say. After all, it was her fault in a way—at least, that was how she perceived the situation.
“Y/n?” A hesitant voice called out.
Y/n placed the flowers gently in front of the pillar and turned toward the sound, offering a weak smile to the shorter brunette woman standing before her. It was Shoko.
Shoko had been one of Y/n's closest friends during her time in Japan. Their relationship had begun on shaky ground, rooted in the circumstances that had led Y/n to move in with Shoko's family. When Y/n's grandmother passed away shortly after her sixteenth birthday, her mother, struggling with a devastating divorce, was in no condition to care for her daughter. As a last resort, she sent Y/n to live with the man who had uprooted her life in the first place: Ken Ieiri, the renowned international doctor with whom Y/n's mother had been having a seven-month affair.
Ken tried to cover his tracks, keeping both his daughter and Y/n in the dark about his actions, claiming that he would be the host parent for Y/n during her time in Japan. When the truth finally came out, it only made things more complicated. The issues he had been having with his wife also came to light, much to Shoko's surprise.
Through it all, Y/n stood by Shoko, providing support during the tumultuous times, and their bond deepened. They became as close as thieves, referring to each other as sisters and siblings.
"Hi, Koko."
The nickname slipped from Y/n's lips more easily than she cared to admit, watching as Shoko’s posture shifted and her eyes clouded with unspoken emotions. Despite the casual atmosphere, Y/n realized she hadn't spoken to Shoko in nearly four years. They had kept in touch for two years after Y/n left, but something had changed; the weight of guilt had consumed her, making it impossible to respond to Shoko's messages or daily check-ins. That third year back in the States had been the hardest for some reason.
“Let me treat you to coffee,” Shoko replied, desperation creeping into her voice as she looked at Y/n, a flurry of questions racing through her mind.
Why was Y/n back? Why had she stopped replying to any of Shoko's texts? Did Satoru know she was back?
The two women sat across from each other in the booth, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Y/n wasn’t sure where to start; she knew she owed Shoko some sort of explanation, but deep down, she felt there was no way to truly convey what had happened.
“Hasn’t been this silent since Dad admitted he was in love with your mom,” Shoko said, breaking the ice as she lifted her carefully crafted cinnamon brown sugar latte.
Y/n blinked in shock before a smile broke across her face, laughter bubbling up at Shoko’s comment. “Oh my god, don't bring that up!”
As the heavy tension lifted, the two began to chat about how life had treated them. Shoko shared her excitement about opening a veterinary clinic as a passion project, while Y/n explained her internship as a reporter for The New York Times. So much had happened in the six years since they last connected that it felt almost impossible to cover it all.
“So, why are you back in New Tokyo?” Shoko finally asked, taking a sip of the hearty soup she had ordered to combat the chill outside.
Y/n shifted in her seat, picking up her own cup and taking a long sip from the black coffee, nothing added to it. The familiar taste brought her comfort, reminding her of her childhood spent on her grandparents' farm in the southern heat. Every morning without fail, her grandma would sit on the porch, watching the sunrise with a steaming mug of black coffee in hand.
“I’ve had some time to reflect, and I’ve been speaking with my psychologist,” Y/n said. “She suggested that my best course of action would be to come back here. I’ll never find peace until I forgive myself and allow myself to move forward.”
Shoko nodded quietly, truly looking at Y/n for the first time in years. It had been so long since she had seen her favorite person. Dark circles under Y/n’s eyes rivaled her own, and her copper curls had grown well past the shoulder-length she used to maintain. Y/n's face appeared thinner, the familiar roundness of her cheeks almost completely gone. The gray oversized turtleneck she wore seemed so out of character, but Shoko knew better than to comment; Y/n was still grieving, and the path to healing was far from over.
“That sounds like a good plan,” Shoko replied softly.
Y/n nodded, fidgeting with her mug before meeting Shoko's warm brown gaze.
“Have you heard from Gojo...?”
Y/n picked at the holes in her ripped and faded baggy jeans as the crisp night wind tickled her nose, standing outside the maroon-colored apartment door with the number B7 crafted in silver. Shoko had given her this address, revealing that Gojo had been living here for the past four years. Located on the shadier side of town, Y/n was surprised that someone like Satoru would be okay with living in such an area, regardless of his abilities and persona.
Yet, it made sense; being in a rougher neighborhood could allow him to save more people and keep the criminals at bay.
Taking a deep breath, Y/n closed her eyes and raised her hand to knock on the door, butterflies swirling in her stomach. Would Satoru even want to see her? What would he say? They had ended things on such bad terms, and the thought of his reaction made her nervous.
A moment of silence followed her knock, and embarrassment crept up her cheeks. The gift bag of snacks and treats she had prepared, things she remembered Satoru liked, suddenly felt like a thousand pounds. What if he wasn’t even home? He could be out on patrol for all she knew.
Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall, slender Black woman wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that hung seductively off one shoulder. The woman’s feline-like hazel eyes narrowed into a glare as they fell on Y/n and the basket in her hands.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?” The unknown woman's voice was sharp and curt as she placed a manicured hand on her hip, sizing Y/n up.
In the past, Y/n might have called out the hostile energy this woman was projecting over something as simple as answering the door. But now, on her path to healing, she knew better than to cause a scene over something so trivial.
“Does Satoru Gojo live here? My name is—” Y/n started, but the woman cut her off, waving her hand dismissively.
“Yeah, I know who you are. He’s not here at the moment, but you can wait if you want,” she stated rudely before turning on her heel and stepping back into the apartment.
Y/n’s eye twitched as she watched the woman walk away into the apartment. This was clearly going to test all of her practice in patience and understanding. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, eager to be released. Taking a deep breath, she followed the woman inside and closed the door behind her.
To her surprise, the apartment was cozy. Hues of green, brown, yellow, and orange dominated the decorations, creating a warm atmosphere. Various pottery creations were scattered around the living room and small kitchen area, adding a touch of personality.
“Set that shit down on the counter beside you,” the woman called out, not even glancing back at Y/n, who was still standing by the door.
The woman perched herself on a high bar stool at the dining room table. She sat in a way that seemed almost uncomfortable, her feet resting in a catlike stance as she stared intently at Y/n.
Y/n had to admit the woman was strikingly beautiful—model-worthy, even. Her hair was styled in a messy white pixie cut, and her ears were adorned with numerous piercings. The moles on her face were artfully placed: one along her left cheek, another beneath her right eye, and one on the left side of her chin.
"Salomé." The woman gave her name, as she continued to dissect Y/n with her eyes.
Y/n had a myriad of questions she wanted to ask Salomé regarding Satoru. Though she knew she had no right, jealousy bubbled within her at the thought that this woman seemed to be staying with him, and judging by the decorations, it appeared to have been for a while.
“You dying or something?” Salomé asked, amusement evident in her voice.
“Excuse me?” Y/n shot back, annoyance creeping into her tone.
She had tried to be polite, but Salomé's holier-than-thou attitude was starting to get under her skin. Whether Salomé sensed this was unclear, as she maintained her emotionless demeanor, continuing to test Y/n’s patience.
“I mean, you’ve been gone for a fucking long time with no contact, so I’m trying to figure out why you’re in my home,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Last I checked, this is an apartment, not a house,” Y/n snapped, glaring at Salomé.
Despite her efforts to remain civil, Y/n found it increasingly difficult to tolerate Salomé’s nasty attitude. Therapy be damned. Salomé clicked her tongue in response to Y/n's petty retort, a smirk spreading across her face.
“You’re right. It is an apartment, but it’s home to Satoru. After all, he chooses to be here instead of that big ole, lonely penthouse he has downtown.”
Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She stalked toward Salomé, her ears burning with anger, ready to chew her out and leave this frustratingly beautiful apartment.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Y/n yelled.
Salomé hopped off her chair, towering over Y/n, crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed oddly relaxed despite the aggression radiating from Y/n.
“Mm, you trying to solve it, little miss perfect?” Salomé taunted.
Without thinking, Y/n reacted and swung, her fist connecting with Salomé’s face. The nickname had struck a nerve; she hadn’t heard it since Geto’s passing, and she sure as hell wasn’t ready to hear it from some woman sizing her up. Caught up in her emotions, Y/n hadn't realized Salomé had gone deathly quiet, holding her cheek as the taste of copper filled her mouth.
“You don’t know me. Don’t talk to me like you do, bitch,” Y/n shouted, anger boiling over as tears welled in her eyes.
She had been doing so well at not thinking about him—the bane of her guilt: Geto Suguru. It was her fault. All her fault. If only she hadn’t been there that day. He was the one who should be alive.
In the blink of an eye, Salomé closed the distance, her presence overpowering as a wave of bloodlust radiated from her. Y/n was jolted from her thoughts by the sheer intensity in Salomé’s gaze, her nails lengthening and sharpening as a low growl escaped her throat.
“I’m gonna have so much fun,” Salomé purred, her voice dripping with malice.
Y/n's eyes widened as Salomé lunged for her, only to be halted by the familiar sound of a THWIP connecting with the back of her hand, pulling her backwards.
"That's enough, Sal," Satoru called out sternly as he appeared through the now-opened kitchen window.
Salomé's plump two-toned lips formed into a frown as she turned her attention to Satoru, who had only just removed his mask, rolling her eyes in annoyance. She absolutely hated that he always interrupted her fun.
“Whatever, disconnect your fluid, spider-boy. I wasn’t going to do anything but scratch her,” she retorted.
Satoru shook his head in amusement, seemingly used to Salomé’s spoiled attitude. He tugged the web closer, pulling her further away from Y/n and closer to him.
“Sure, you were,” he replied sarcastically.
Once Salomé was close enough, Satoru removed the webbing from her hand, taking in the bruise forming on her cheek and her split lip. Both of them knew she could have easily dodged Y/n's punch, which meant she had let it happen on purpose. Satoru could only assume it was so Salomé would have a reason to retaliate. Thankfully, he had arrived in time to prevent what could have been a disaster.
“It will heal. I’m fine,” Salomé interrupted his thoughts, pulling away from Satoru and turning to head into her room.
“Where are you going?” he questioned, still not addressing Y/n, who stared at him in silence and awe.
“Out,” Salomé yelled back, slamming the door to her room. Her departure usually meant trouble for Spiderman to deal with.
Satoru cursed under his breath, realizing this was going to be a problem later. A riled-up Salomé was a recipe for disaster; she was definitely going to create a scene outside as Black Cat, and he would have to clean it up.
Y/n looked at the man Satoru had grown into. His suit was different, red with accents of blue and black, and it looked handmade. He was beyond muscular, no doubt a result of his years as a masked vigilante. His hair was shaggier but still untamable, styled with a clean undercut. His cerulean eyes met her dark ones and just like that, Y/n was teleported back to being a teen blindly in love.
It had been six long years since their messy breakup, a turbulent chapter of their lives that still lingered in the corners of his mind. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, thick with the tension of unresolved feelings.
Y/n felt her heart race under the intensity of his stare, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. She remembered the laughter, the whispered secrets, and the raw passion that had once defined their relationship. But she also recalled the pain—the arguments, the misunderstandings, and the hurtful things they had said.
Satoru's expression softened as he took in the changes that time had wrought on Y/n. She was still beautiful, but the years had etched lines of experience around her eyes. He could see the remnants of her past struggles reflected in her gaze, a mix of resilience and vulnerability that pulled at his heart.
In that moment, neither of them needed words. They stood at the precipice of their shared history, each lost in their thoughts yet connected by an invisible thread of familiarity. It was as if time had folded, collapsing the distance between their past and present into this singular moment.
Finally, Y/n broke the stillness, her voice barely above a whisper. "Satoru…" But the sound hung in the air, unfinished, as if the weight of everything they had been through held her back.
Satoru’s heart thudded in his chest, emotions swirling within him—regret, longing, and a flicker of hope. He opened his mouth to speak, but words eluded him. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for answers.
Y/n felt small under Satoru's towering presence; he had grown so much taller in the years since they last saw each other. Subconsciously, she placed a hand on his cheek, her touch tentative, as if she were afraid he might dissolve into nothing if she pressed too hard.
“Satoru—”
“You smoke?”
They spoke in unison, the intensity of their eye contact unbroken. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she nodded, and Satoru responded with a nod of approval, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly.
Finally, he stepped away from her, granting Y/n a moment to remember how to breathe.
“Let me change, and I’ll meet you on the balcony,” he said, heading toward his room.
Y/n couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over her at the thought of Satoru going into a separate room instead of the one Salomé had entered just moments before. The prospect of having even a little space felt like a reprieve, a chance to gather her thoughts before facing the complexity of their reunion.
As Satoru disappeared into his room, Y/n took a deep breath, allowing herself to feel the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that swirled within her. It was a small step forward, but it felt monumental, like the first light breaking through after a long, dark night..
Satoru emerged from his room, clad in a fitted black compression T-shirt that accentuated his muscular frame and gray sweatpants that hung comfortably on his hips. He balanced a couple of cold beers in one hand and a pizza box in the other, the savory aroma wafting through the air as he stepped onto the balcony.
“Here,” he said, tossing a soft blanket over Y/n’s shoulders. “Just in case you get cold.” The warmth of his gesture wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, igniting a flicker of familiarity that eased the tension in her chest.
They leaned against the balcony railing, the city skyline sprawling out before them, glittering under the starry sky. Satoru opened a beer and took a long sip, his gaze drifting momentarily into the distance. Y/n followed suit, the cool drink refreshing as it slid down her throat.
After a moment of silence, she pulled out a cigarette, her hands slightly trembling as she lit it. Satoru joined her, the flicker of the lighter illuminating his face for a brief moment. Their eyes met, and he offered a small, hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history.
With each puff, the smoke swirled between them, mingling with the winter night air. They began to catch up, their conversation flowing hesitantly at first, filled with light-hearted anecdotes about their lives over the past six years. Each laugh felt like a small step toward bridging the gap that had grown between them.
Yet, beneath the surface, the weight of their unresolved issues lingered. They both knew that the elephant in the room—the reason for their breakup—loomed large, unspoken but ever-present.
Y/n could feel the tension mounting as they danced around the topic, their laughter mingling with the underlying anxiety of what needed to be addressed. Satoru’s occasional sidelong glances caught her off guard, sending a rush of warmth through her, but she quickly masked her feelings with a playful smirk.
“Your girlfriend is a mutant?” Y/n finally asked, trying to mask her curiosity with casual indifference.
“My friend,” Satoru corrected, taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling into the night air. “And yeah, she is.”
“Yeah, well, tell her that. She seems awfully fond of you,” Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes, unable to hide the jealousy seeping into her tone.
Satoru paused, nodding as he considered his relationship with Salomé. “We’ve hooked up a few times,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with something Y/n couldn't quite place.
Oh. An awful feeling washed over her, but she knew it wasn’t fair to voice her discomfort. It had been years; expecting him to wait for her when she hadn’t even given any sign of wanting to get back together was unreasonable. Still, the realization twisted in her gut.
“Oh.”
“Don’t do that shit, Y/n.” He rubbed his temple, balancing the cigarette between his fingers as frustration flickered in his eyes.
“Do what? The bitch you’re fucking attacked me—”
“You hit her first, and I stopped her before she could touch you,” Satoru replied, his voice firm despite the irritation creeping up his neck at Y/n's attitude.
Why did he always seem to gravitate toward the most spoiled and entitled women?
“Yeah, but what if you weren’t there in time?”
“Dammit, Y/n. You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” he snapped, cutting her off, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race.
In that moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a reminder of the bond they once shared and the walls they had both built in the years since their breakup. Y/n felt the weight of his words, but the jealousy still lingered, battling against the flicker of warmth that came from his unwavering protection.
“Yeah, well, I still don’t like her,” Y/n shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the way his piercing gaze made her feel.
“She’s just protective. She wants to make sure I don’t get hurt. I’m guessing she was trying to scare you off before I got here,” Satoru replied, his tone steady but laced with an undercurrent of irritation.
“Or maybe she’s just a bitch. Whatever image of me you’re feeding her to make her act like that is wrong.” The words slipped out before Y/n could think, and she instantly regretted mentioning Salomé, especially in the context of their breakup.
“So I’m wrong to say you broke up with me after my best friend died?” Satoru’s voice turned icy, his eyes hardening as they bore into hers.
“Satoru—”
“I was wrong to say that you didn’t even have the guts to tell me in person? You left a letter in my apartment the night before my college entry exam?” His tone sharpened, cruel and unyielding, as he crushed the beer can in his hand effortlessly.
“Sator—”
“I was wrong to say that Shibuya haunts me too, but I was there for you in any way I could be, while you only cared about yourself. You didn’t even give me a chance to fight for us, for this.”
“IM NOT STRONG LIKE YOU!” Y/n screamed into the night, her voice echoing off the buildings. She felt drained, the weight of Satoru’s righteous anger crashing over her like a wave.
In that moment, the truth of her words hung heavy between them, a testament to the scars their past had left. The air surrounding the pair was overflowing with tension, both knowing they were standing on the precipice of a conversation they had both been avoiding for far too long.
"Y/n-"
Now it was Y/n’s turn to be heard, to explain what she should have said years ago.
“Satoru, I’m not like you,” she began, her voice trembling. “You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders and balance it gracefully. I’m a mess. I can’t get his face out of my head. Every night, I have nightmares about Shibuya and how it wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if I hadn’t been there. All those people died because you chose to save me. Geto died because you chose to save me.” She choked back sobs, gripping the metal railing tightly, silently grateful that the night sky shielded her tears from view.
“Hey, Shibuya was not your fault. Nobody could have known what was going to happen,” Satoru replied softly, but Y/n shook her head vehemently.
“Yes, it is. Satoru, you had the choice to let me die or let thousands die, and you chose to save me.”
Satoru fell silent, memories flooding back to that fateful night. He recalled the six villains he had taken down in the past, now teaming up to try and end him once and for all. Among them had been his best friend, Geto. Their friendship had crumbled after the death of Riko Amanai, that had changed them both forever.
As Spiderman, Satoru had easily dispatched five of the attackers. But when it came to Geto, he hesitated. The love he felt for his childhood friend was a bond that ran deeper than he had ever felt for anyone else. When Geto realized that Satoru couldn’t bring himself to hurt him, he issued an ultimatum: let Y/n die or stop the bomb that would blow up the busiest highway in all of New Tokyo.
Satoru had begged Geto not to make him choose. He even offered to sacrifice his own life in exchange, but nothing he said could satisfy his friend, who had been too far gone. Geto wanted Satoru to feel the same despair he had endured when Riko died, the helplessness that had consumed him.
But what had gone unaccounted for was Satoru’s profound selfishness and skill. Just as he was good hero, he couldn’t bear to lose Y/n too—not after losing Sayori, his sister, who had sacrificed herself to stop a villain too strong for Spiderman to face alone. Yet, he managed to do the impossible and do both; stop the bomb and save Y/n.
Enraged, Geto set off another bomb in an undisclosed area in the city and proceeded to launched himself at the couple, his fury fueled by the belief that Satoru’s choices had led to his suffering. He was tired of bearing the weight of the consequences alone. Despite the threat Geto posed, Satoru couldn’t bring himself to deliver the final blow.
As they engaged in a fierce battle, Satoru quickly realized that Geto wasn’t in control of his actions; he was being manipulated by an alien symbiote named Kenjaku. In that moment of clarity, Satoru understood that he wasn’t just fighting his best friend—he was fighting for his soul.
Desperation surged within Satoru as he recalled all the moments they had shared, all the laughter and dreams that had once bound them together. With a heavy heart, he made the agonizing decision to fulfill Geto’s final request: to ensure that no one else would be harmed by his hands.
In an act of mercy, Satoru focused his energy, channeling it into a powerful blow that would free Geto from the symbiote's grasp. As he struck, he felt a pang of sorrow and regret, knowing that this was the end of an era—a painful farewell to a friendship that had meant everything to him.
Y/n and Satoru had been there with the real Geto during his final moments, each of them holding one of his hands, sobbing uncontrollably as he took his last breath. The weight of their grief hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the bond they had shared and the tragic loss that now enveloped them.
“Y/n, people were going to die regardless,” Satoru finally said, his voice trembling with the remnants of emotion. “The point was to make sure I would fall into the same despair that Geto had experienced. The symbiotes feed on the hopelessness of their hosts.”
His words echoed in Y/n’s mind, a bitter truth that cut deep. She felt the anger and confusion swirling within her, struggling to reconcile the pain of losing Geto with the reality of what had transpired. The symbiote’s twisted motives had ensnared them all, dragging them into a cycle of despair and loss.
“So you’re saying it was all part of their plan?” Y/n's voice cracked, the vulnerability creeping into her tone. “That you were meant to suffer like he did?”
Satoru nodded, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the implications of his choices. “That’s what they wanted. To manipulate my emotions, to turn me against myself. Geto was just a pawn in their game, and so was I.”
Y/n took a shaky breath, trying to process the enormity of it all. She had witnessed the destruction caused by their battles, the lives lost, and the scars left behind. But hearing Satoru articulate the symbiote's twisted intentions brought a new layer of anguish.
“I just wish…” she began, but the words caught in her throat, unable to fully articulate the depth of her sorrow.
“I know,” Satoru replied softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of pain and understanding. “I wish things could have been different too.”
“I’m sorry I left,” Y/n finally said, her voice barely above a whisper as she avoided making eye contact with the man she loved so dearly. The weight of her apology hung in the air between them, a fragile acknowledgment of the pain that had defined their separation.
Satoru remained silent, the tension thick as he processed her words. He could feel the regret emanating from her, a mirror to the guilt that had plagued him since that fateful day. It was an admission they both needed but had been too afraid to voice until now.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she continued, her hands fidgeting with the blanket draped over her shoulders. “I thought distancing myself would help you heal, help us both heal. But I see now that I was wrong.”
His heart ached at her confession, the sorrow in her eyes resonating deeply within him. “You don’t have to apologize,” he finally said, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “I should have fought harder to keep you by my side. We were both hurting, and I didn’t know how to reach out.”
Y/n finally met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have communicated better, should have told you how much I was struggling. Instead, I just… ran away.”
Satoru stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking as he searched her face for understanding. “We were both caught up in our pain, but we can’t change the past. What matters is that we’re here now.”
.
.
.
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Another author's note: This was super sad but was an idea I was testing out, I'm still on the fence I want to use a plot line to this and I'm still tweaking how I want Black Cat to be introduced because any spiderman fan knows you cant have a spiderman story without a good ole two women one peter.. or Gojo. I had a hard time deciding on who should be Black Cat but I figured the best bet would just be creating a character for it. Let me know what you guys think in the comments. I'm so excited to share my story with you all <3
For as long as I can remember, I've been different—special in ways I couldn’t quite understand. Maybe it was my unusually white hair or my blue eyes that resembled frozen ice cubes. I’ve tried to blend in, to act as if nothing was wrong, but normal has never been my forte.
You’re probably reading this and wondering what I’m babbling about. This isn’t the story you signed up for, right? You want to hear about all the villains I've taken down, the babies’ foreheads I’ve kissed after saving New Tokyo from yet another threat. Well, I’m getting to that—just let me be a little melodramatic for a moment. Jesus, can I ever catch a fucking break?
To those of you who just happened to stumble upon this book and have no idea what I’m talking about, let me explain. My name is Satoru Gojo, and I’m the one and only Spider-Man, protecting my home, New Tokyo, from anything and anyone that threatens its peace.
This little book you’ve found—yes, the one you’re nosily reading—is my diary of sorts. My therapist recommended I write down my feelings. According to her, I’m “severely mentally unstable” and she thinks that voicing my thoughts instead of relying on self-deprecating jokes might help me get “better.” So, here we are.
And don’t worry your pretty little head; I fully intend to start from the very beginning and explain exactly what made me so unstable in the first place. Fair warning: my story is a long one. Not that I think you mind—look at you, all curled up in your cozy pajamas, excitedly waiting for me to share the depressing tale of my life. Yeah, I can see you; don’t act shy now. Fix your posture and go drink some water! I know you’re hunched over and probably haven’t left your room all day (and no, work doesn’t count).
Sorry, that’s an old habit I picked up from—well, it doesn’t matter. Let’s begin, shall we?
Satoru was jolted awake by the sound of his curtains being ripped open, the bright sunlight burning through his closed eyelids.
"Get up, loser."
The now fifteen-year-old boy sat up and glared at his attacker; his piercing sapphire eyes locked onto a pair of matching ones. Of course, who else would wake up the birthday boy in such a cruel fashion but his annoyingly cheerful older sister, Sayori Gojo?
Standing at 5'10", Sayori looked down at her younger brother with a devilish smirk. The piercing in her lower lip gleamed with mischief, mirroring the sparkle in her eyes. Though they shared striking features—those vivid eyes and snowy white hair—the siblings couldn’t be more different. Sayori was as pale as could be, and her once-long, beautiful hair was now a choppy mess that seemed impossible to tame. It also didnt help that she had the features of a model. However, piercings adorned her face: in her nose, on her tongue, and, of course, in her bottom lip, all of which their parents disapproved of.
"You're going on fifty... why do you act like this?" Satoru grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
A squeak of disbelief escaped Sayori’s lips, clearly shocked by her brother’s claim. "I am only twenty-seven! I just recently turned that age, so let’s not act like it’s anywhere close to fifty, you freak."
Gojo rolled his eyes, slipping out of bed to stretch and prepare for his day—his birthday.
Satoru turned his back to Sayori, moving to his (one of many dressers) to pull out clothes for the day. He could feel her lingering in the doorway, a smirk still plastered on her face.
"Seriously, Sayori, I need to get dressed," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, not wanting her to mock him for anymore voice cracks. "You can’t just barge in here and expect to hang out while I’m half-asleep."
Sayori leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "But it’s my job as the older sister to make sure you don’t just throw on whatever looks least wrinkled."
"Well, I’m not a toddler anymore. I can dress myself." He threw a shirt over his shoulder, missing the mark as it landed on his bed instead.
"But can you really?" she teased, stepping further back into the room, her eyes scanning the chaos of clothes, figurines, and gaming controllers strewn about. "What if you end up wearing something ridiculous? You know how embarrassing that would be on your big day?"
"Sayori," Gojo warned, spinning to face her with a glare that could kill. "If you don’t get out of my room right now, I swear I’ll tell mom and dad where you were on family picture day."
Sayori's eyes widened in horror as she lifted her hands up as a sign of surrendering. Yes she was a grown woman, but both she and Satoru knew that making their parents unhappy meant them telling the siblings' grandfather.. and no one wanted to disappoint grandfather.
"Fine. Don't come crying to me if you get bullied for some funky ass fit."
"Yeah, Yeah," Satoru said, smirking as he nudged her toward the door. "Now out you go. I’m serious."
With a dramatic sigh, Sayori finally relented, stepping back into the hallway.
"Otaku loser."
She murmured to herself as she walked away from the door, flipping off the teen.
"Crack whore," he called after her, slamming the door before she could come back to kick his ass. As he turned back to his reflection, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the string of curses that followed the older woman banging on his locked room door. Once the banging died down, Satoru redirected his attention to focusing on getting ready for his birthday celebration.
Today wasn’t just any day for Satoru; it was the one day a year his family pretended he was their top priority. While most kids looked forward to presents or parties, Satoru just looked forward to being noticed.
Sayori’s visit, as chaotic as it was, had been a rare gesture. Usually, she was the ghost of the house, flitting in and out of their lives, almost always in defiance of whatever their parents were trying to enforce at the moment. If their parents praised something, she was bound to hate it. If they disapproved, she’d embrace it with open arms. But even with all her rebellion, she still managed to show up for his birthday each year, barging in to tease him and make a ruckus just because she knew it mattered to him.
His parents, however, were another story. Gojo Enterprise was their true firstborn, and everything else—including him—seemed to come second. They rarely had time for him, and on the off chance they did, their visits usually consisted of half-hearted advice, critiques on his school achievements, or reminders of how he could "be even better." If they bothered to ask about his grades, it wasn’t because they cared about him but because they wanted to show off his straight As in one of their many social gatherings.
Satoru sighed, already preparing for the disappointment he was bound to face today, as he glanced at his blurry reflection in the mirror. Staring back was a scrawny, pale kid with a mess of white hair that never seemed to settle the way he wanted. He gave his reflection a halfhearted smirk. It wasn’t that he hated how he looked—well, maybe a little—but it wasn’t exactly what he’d call intimidating, either.
He squinted, barely making out the details of his own face in the glass.
"I really need to find my glasses," He muttered, groping around on his dresser until his hand brushed the familiar, clunky frames. Sliding them on, his vision cleared, and he grimaced. There he was, in all his nerdy glory, complete with a pair of thick glasses that did nothing to boost his confidence.
Satoru sighed again as he rifled through his clothes, pulling out a graphic tee featuring a retro anime character that probably no one else in his class even knew about. He tugged it over his head and then picked out a pair of faded jeans that were just slightly too big. His sister's teasing rang in his mind, and he huffed, folding up the cuffs so he wouldn’t trip over them.
As he fiddled with his clothes, he caught sight of his reflection once more. Yep, he was thin as a twig, with a body that looked like it might snap if the wind blew too hard. But his mind quickly shifted to his upcoming birthday plans—the new manga release he asked his parents for, the multiplayer game he’d been itching to finish with Geto and Shoko. Those thoughts made him forget, even if just for a moment, about his awkward looks and lack of bulk.
He rolled his eyes as he recalled Sayori’s antics. Sure, she loved poking fun at his “style,” but it wasn’t like he could hide who he was. He was a full-blown nerd, and no amount of fancy clothes or money was going to change that.
Satoru double-checked the lock (he had made it himself using scraps from Geto's parents mechanic shop), feeling a small sense of relief as he heard the click. It wasn’t that he hated the maids or the staff—they were usually polite enough—but he couldn't stand how they’d rearrange everything, trying to turn his room into some pristine display instead of the controlled chaos he preferred.
To anyone else, it might’ve looked like a mess: figurines lined up haphazardly across his shelves, manga volumes stacked in precarious towers, and a jumble of notebooks, controllers, and cables sprawled across his desk. But to him, every item had its place. His favorite games were within arm’s reach, his sketchbooks for drawing piled near the window for the best light, and his notes from school carefully wedged between books on his bed frame. It was a system no one else could understand, but it worked.
He took a final look back at his door, almost as if he could will it to stay locked even if he couldn’t be there to guard it. With a small sigh, he turned and started down the hall, steeling himself for the inevitable attention he’d get today.
Satoru descended the grand, spiraling staircase of the mansion, his fingers trailing along the cool marble railing. It was early, and the house was quiet save for the faint hum of voices echoing from the foyer. As he reached the bottom, he spotted them—two familiar figures standing awkwardly in the grand entryway, dwarfed by towering crystal vases and oversized paintings on the walls.
“Yo, birthday boy!” Shoko called out, offering a lopsided grin as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She wore her usual black leather jacket and ripped jeans with some random punk band tanktop, looking relaxed despite the stuffy atmosphere of the mansion.
Beside her stood Geto, hands in his pockets, his expression cool but with the hint of a smile he usually reserved for special occasions. “Took you long enough. I thought you’d abandoned us for some high-society brunch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling.
Satoru couldn’t help but laugh. “As if I’d ever choose those people over you two. I’d rather deal with Sayori’s wake-up calls every morning.”
The three of them exchanged grins, and the comfort of their presence helped Satoru shake off the lingering weight of his family’s expectations. Unlike everyone else in his life, Shoko and Geto never cared about who his family was or how extravagant his home looked. They were here for him, and on his birthday, that meant more than anything else.
Shoko held up a paper bag. “I brought breakfast sandwiches. Figured you might not want to eat whatever rich people snobby shit they serve here.”
Satoru’s face lit up. “You’re a lifesaver. And you know me too well.” He snagged a sandwich from her bag, taking a huge bite as they made their way toward the front door.
“So,” Geto said, raising an eyebrow, “you ready for some serious button-mashing at the arcade? I’ve been practicing, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking down the ‘birthday champion’ today.”
Satoru smirked, his mouth full. “Good luck with that, buddy. You’ve never beaten me before, and I don’t plan to let you start today.”
They laughed together as they stepped outside, the morning sun warming their faces. Satoru glanced back at the towering mansion behind him, then back to his friends, who waited for him by the sleek black car his family had arranged for the day.
The arcade was alive with flashing lights and the constant hum of machines, its walls plastered with neon signs and colorful yet corny posters. The air was thick with the familiar clinking of tokens, the beep-beep of high scores being shattered, and the excited chatter of kids and teens alike. Satoru, Shoko, and Geto had been there for hours, fully immersed in the chaotic joy of the place.
They had already blown through several rounds of classics—racing games, fighting games, even a basketball shooter. Geto had tried his best to dethrone Satoru on every machine, but the birthday boy’s natural knack for gaming held strong. Each time, Geto threw his hands up in defeat while Satoru flashed his signature smug grin. Shoko, meanwhile, had spent most of the day lounging in one of the booths with a soda, only occasionally joining in to wipe the floor with them in games that required quick reflexes. It appeared that the young teenage girl was too cool to play with the boys but she still appeared to enjoy watching them play.
As the hours slipped by, they barely noticed the crowd thinning around them. The noise from the machines still pulsed, but it had quieted slightly, with only the diehard players sticking around until closing time. Satoru was at one of his favorite stations—an old-school zombie shooter game with plastic guns that rattled in your hands as you fired.
He stood poised, blasting away at wave after wave of the undead, completely in the zone. Shoko sidled up next to him, leaning casually against the machine, her eyes gleaming with an idea.
"You think you’re hot stuff, huh?" She said, watching as he took out another zombie with ease.
Satoru glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "Please, I’ve been beating this game since I've known how to pronounce the word "Gameboy". What are you getting at?"
Shoko smirked. "I’m saying let’s raise the stakes. One final round before we head out. You versus me, on the zombie shooter. Winner gets to make a bet."
Geto, munching on what was probably his fifth snack of the day, looked up with interest. "Now this I gotta see."
Satoru chuckled. "What kind of bet are we talking about?"
Shoko’s eyes glinted mischievously, as if she knew something that Satoru didn't. "If I win—which, let’s face it, I probably won’t—you have to sneak us into your parents’ lab. I’ve been dying to see what kind of tech they’re cooking up in there."
Satoru froze for a second, blinking at her as if she’d just suggested something insane. "You want me to break into my parents’ private research lab?" he asked incredulously.
Shoko shrugged, nonchalant as ever. "Yeah. What, scared I might actually win?"
Satoru narrowed his eyes, the competitive edge kicking in. "Fine. But when I win, you have to actually go with me to see Alien vs Spider-Ants III"
"Deal," Shoko said, grabbing the second gun controller from the holster.
They both positioned themselves in front of the screen, the machine lighting up with eerie green and red colors as the game counted down to start. Geto leaned on a nearby arcade machine, arms crossed, watching the showdown with a growing grin.
The game began, and for the first few rounds, Satoru dominated as expected, picking off zombies with perfect aim and precision. Shoko kept pace, but just barely, struggling to keep up with his rhythm. As the levels progressed and the zombies came faster, something shifted. Shoko’s aim became sharper, her reflexes quicker, and soon she was gunning down zombies with an accuracy that surprised both Satoru and Geto.
"Shoko, when did you get this good?" Satoru muttered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as the game threw its hardest challenges at them.
She didn’t answer, too focused on the screen, her face a picture of calm concentration. The crowd around them had thinned even more, but a few people gathered to watch the final showdown. The zombie boss loomed on the screen, huge and menacing, but Shoko remained unfazed.
It came down to the final seconds. Satoru’s score was high, but Shoko had caught up, and in a burst of perfect timing, she landed the final critical shot that sent the boss crashing to the ground.
The screen flashed: Player 2 Wins!
Satoru’s jaw dropped. Geto let out a low whistle, laughing. "Well, well, looks like you’ve been hustled, sweetheart."
Shoko stood there, grinning widely, her gun still in hand as she shot Satoru a triumphant look. "Guess it’s time for you to keep up your end of the deal, Gojo."
He shook his head in disbelief, but he couldn’t help smiling. "You seriously just pretended to not be good at this game so I could show you my parents' lab?"
"Looks like it," Shoko said, leaning the gun against the machine with a satisfied click. "Now, speaking of that lab..."
Satoru groaned, rubbing his temples. "You’re insane, you know that?"
"I know," she replied, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "But come on, we’re not really gonna pass up an adventure, are we?"
The arcade buzzed softly around them, the flashing lights now dimming as closing time neared. The clock was ticking, and Satoru knew that tomorrow, or sometime soon, he’d be leading them on a whole different kind of game—one far more dangerous than any zombie shooter.. if he got caught that is.
Satoru couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this. The city lights of New Tokyo glowed around him as he led Shoko and Geto down a deserted alley that ran along the back of Gojo Enterprises’ research lab. The building was sleek and high-tech, its walls lined with reinforced glass and flashing security cameras, and the closer they got, the louder Satoru's heartbeat thudded in his chest.
They crouched near a loading dock, out of sight from the main entrance. The thrill of sneaking out in the dead of night was exhilarating, but the stakes felt entirely different now. He took a deep breath, trying to look calm even though his mind raced. After all, he’d convinced his parents' driver to drop them off by claiming they were going to a midnight movie—no one would suspect a thing until morning.
Shoko nudged him, a grin plastered on her face. “So, how are we getting in, Mr. Genius?”
Satoru pulled a small key card from the pocket of his baggy jeans. "Family card. They give one to all Gojo relatives for ‘emergency access,’" he said, quoting the excuse his parents had given when they handed it to him years ago. He’d never had a reason to use it—until now.
Geto raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been sitting on this secret card and never used it?”
“Didn’t exactly plan on breaking into my parents’ lab,” Satoru shot back, swiping the card on a hidden panel by the door. The scanner blinked green, and with a soft hiss, the heavy door slid open. “But let’s move fast. Cameras reset every five minutes, so we don’t have much time before they pick us up again.”
They slipped inside, careful to stay low and quiet as they made their way through a dimly lit corridor. The lab felt eerily empty, with the hum of machinery and faint, blinking lights from high-tech devices casting shadows across the walls. As they crept further into the building, they passed rows of glass cases displaying various prototypes—everything from sleek gadgets to high-tech robotics in the early stages of development.
Shoko’s eyes sparkled as she inspected the devices on display. “Wow, I had no idea they were working on stuff like this,” she whispered, leaning closer to get a look at a sleek, futuristic helmet inside one of the cases.
Geto chuckled softly. “Satoru, you’ve been holding out on us. This is some next-level tech.”
Satoru rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide a grin. “You think I know anything about this stuff? They don’t exactly invite me to company presentations.”
They reached the far end of the corridor, where a steel door loomed, marked with a glowing red Authorized Personnel Only sign. Satoru hesitated, glancing at Shoko and Geto, both of whom seemed unfazed.
"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered, swiping his card again. This time, the door opened into an expansive room filled with a dizzying array of tech—computer stations lined the walls, and strange devices blinked and whirred on metal tables. In the center of the room was a large glass chamber, towering over them with cables stretching to the ceiling and intricate wires weaving in and out of its frame.
"What… is this place?" Satoru whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous lab.
Shoko moved closer to the chamber, her curiosity overriding any fear. “Maybe… some kind of energy source? Or a containment unit?”
Geto joined her, nodding in agreement. “Looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. You sure your parents just work in tech?”
Satoru shrugged, suddenly feeling out of place in his own parents' world. “Beats me. They’re always secretive about what exactly goes on in here.”
They edged closer to the chamber, marveling at the sleek design and the strange, pulsing energy that seemed to radiate from within. Shoko reached a hand out to the glass, her eyes wide. “Think they’d notice if we touched—"
Before she could finish, a faint hum grew louder, and the chamber seemed to activate, the energy inside swirling in bright colors that almost hypnotized them. Alarms began to blare throughout the lab, red lights flashing along the walls.
Smoke poured into the room, thick and suffocating. Satoru coughed, his heart hammering as the reality of their situation sank in. He had known this was a risky plan, but he’d never expected things to spiral out of control like this. Alarms blared louder, echoing off the metal walls, and the sound of heavy footsteps told him that security guards were close—way too close.
Shoko’s eyes darted around the room, her face unusually serious. “Satoru, we need an exit, now!”
Geto was already tugging on his arm, but Satoru hesitated for one precious second, glancing back at the chamber they’d accidentally triggered. Whatever was inside it was still glowing, pulsating faster as if it were alive.
“Gojo, move!” Geto’s shout snapped him out of his thoughts.
He tore his gaze from the chamber and followed them through the smoke-filled lab, scanning the room for any possible way out. Just as he spotted a side exit, the security guards burst through the main entrance, their flashlights cutting through the smoke.
“Stop right there!” one of them yelled, reaching for his radio to call for backup.
Satoru bolted, adrenaline fueling him as they sprinted toward the side door. He could hear Shoko’s heavy breathing and Geto’s hurried footsteps right behind him. They reached the door just in time, slipping through and slamming it shut behind them. But they weren’t safe yet. A new alarm began to sound, signaling that the side exit had been breached, and they could hear the guards mobilizing to cut them off.
“This is bad—really bad,” Satoru muttered, his voice thick with fear. His parents would never forgive him if they found out he’d broken into their lab, especially after setting off all the alarms. And that’s if he was even lucky enough to make it out without getting caught.
“We’ll worry about that later,” Shoko said, her usual nonchalance now replaced by urgency. “Just focus on getting out of here!”
They rounded a corner, spotting a stairwell that led up to the rooftop. Without hesitation, they bolted up the steps, lungs burning as they climbed. Reaching the top, they burst out onto the rooftop, gulping in fresh air as they skidded to a halt. Below them, security lights swept across the alleyway, and they could hear more guards closing in.
“Look!” Geto pointed to an adjacent rooftop a short distance away.
Satoru’s stomach dropped at the sight, but with no other option, he nodded, steeling himself. “We jump on three.”
With synchronized breaths, they counted down, then ran full speed toward the edge, launching themselves into the air. Satoru’s heart skipped a beat as he flew over the gap, barely managing to land on his feet. Shoko and Geto landed beside him, all of them wobbling but standing.
As they darted toward the next stairwell, Satoru cast one last glance back at the lab, the pulsing glow of the chamber visible through the windows. He didn’t know what they had just unleashed—or what his parents would say when they found out—but he knew that after tonight, nothing would be the same.
Satoru barely had a moment to catch his breath, a triumphant grin just starting to form on his face when the sharp, searing pain shot through his hand. It felt as though fire had exploded beneath his skin, racing up his arm and spreading through his entire body in waves. His muscles locked up instantly, his limbs going rigid as he collapsed onto the rooftop, his vision blurring around the edges.
He tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn't move. He could only lie there, his mind whirling as he struggled to make sense of the pain.
"Satoru!" Shoko's voice cut through the haze, sharp and panicked. Her face swam into his vision, pale against the dark sky as she leaned over him, hands hovering helplessly. "Something bit him—a spider or...something, I don’t know!"
Geto knelt beside her, his own face stricken with worry. "Stay with us, man! Just breathe, slow breaths. You’re okay."
But Satoru was no way in hell okay; he got fucking bit by the damn predator it felt like. The pain was consuming, a hot, pulsing sensation that twisted and convulsed in his muscles. His vision swam, and his hearing faded, Shoko’s frantic voice becoming muffled as though he were underwater. He couldn’t even feel his limbs anymore, just the intense, searing agony and the terrifying sense that he was slipping away.
Focus, he tried to tell himself. Breathe.
But the harder he tried, the worse it got, until the world finally faded entirely, sinking into total blackness.
Satoru blinked, trying to shake off the lingering fog in his mind. The hospital room came into focus, sharp and clear—clearer than he could ever remember seeing, actually. His eyes darted around, adjusting to the sudden brightness that seemed to be assaulting his senses. Everything was so vivid, so intensely defined. His mind stuttered over the realization, then froze as he looked over at the nightstand and saw his glasses lying there, untouched.
He swallowed, the bitter taste in his mouth making him grimace. It was the kind of taste he associated with hospital medication, antiseptic and sharp, but it was nothing compared to the shock of realizing he could see perfectly fine without his glasses.
Satoru brought a shaky hand up to his face, feeling his bare skin where his frames usually rested. He stared at his fingers, noticing the faint prickling sensation running through his hand, where a painful, pulsing ache was subsiding. He clenched his hand experimentally, and to his surprise, the movement felt almost... unnatural. Powerful, even. But also slightly off, like he wasn’t entirely in control of his own strength.
His mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything. Just as he was about to sit up, the door creaked open, and a familiar face poked through—Shoko, eyes red-rimmed and worried, though she managed a weak grin when she saw he was awake.
"Satoru," she whispered, relief flooding her expression as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "You’re okay."
"Kind of feels like I got hit by a truck," he muttered, the sound of his own voice startling him with its newfound clarity. "But...I guess I’m fine." He hesitated, looking down at his bare hand, flexing it slowly. "Shoko, what happened? All I remember is that something bit me, and then… nothing."
Shoko glanced at the door, as if worried someone might overhear, then lowered her voice. "The doctors said it was some sort of spider bite. They were… surprised by how intense your reaction was. You were unconscious for almost a full day, Satoru. They were worried you’d need emergency care, but then you suddenly stabilized."
Satoru’s brow furrowed as he listened, the hospital room seeming to sharpen even further in his vision, every speck of dust, every crease in the bedsheets standing out. "A spider bite," he echoed, trying to wrap his head around it. He swallowed, feeling his heart rate start to quicken. "Shoko, this might sound weird, but... I don’t need my glasses."
She looked at him, momentarily confused. "What? Like... your vision’s better?"
"Perfect," he said, still half in disbelief. "Everything’s way sharper than before. And it’s not just my sight—it’s like my whole body feels different. Stronger, somehow."
Shoko’s eyes widened slightly as she watched him, the hints of worry creeping back into her expression. "Maybe… I don’t know. The doctors didn’t say anything about side effects from the bite. I figured you’d just need some meds and rest, but..." She bit her lip. "Maybe this is something else."
"Yeah, maybe," Satoru murmured, glancing down at his hand, flexing it again to see if he could detect any more changes. His hand was still tingling slightly, and for a second, he could swear he felt something coursing through him, like an electric hum simmering just under the surface.
He went quiet seeing how worried his friend had become over his current state and thought quickly to change the subject.
"So what did you tell my parents and did they find out?"
Shoko's gaze softened, and she looked away, scratching the back of her neck. "Well, I... I didn't really have to tell them much," she admitted, her voice dropping. "Your parents didn’t exactly come rushing to check on you."
Satoru nodded, the familiar sting settling in his chest. Of course they hadn’t shown up—not that he’d truly expected them to. They were probably too busy to be bothered with a minor "incident" like their only son lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
"But don’t worry," Shoko continued quickly, "Geto and I took care of everything. We told the doctors it was some freak accident at an arcade and that you didn't want to bother your family. Geto's great at talking to adults, so he handled most of it. I made sure the story didn’t get too detailed, just in case anyone decided to contact your parents."
Satoru managed a small smile, the weight lifting slightly. "You guys are lifesavers. I don’t even know how to thank you.”
Shoko grinned, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well, I’m not missing my friend’s birthday just because he’s out cold in a hospital bed. Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”
He relaxed a bit, letting himself enjoy the normalcy her words brought. "Still, sorry for dragging you both into this. I swear I’m done with ‘birthday dares’ for a while.”
“Oh, come on. Just means next year we’ll have to top it,” Shoko teased, the worry lifting from her face for the first time. “But no science labs this time. That’s my rule.”
Satoru chuckled, feeling that bittersweet blend of relief and exhaustion.
Satoru left the hospital the next morning, a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty bubbling under his skin. Shoko and Geto stayed by his side, laughing and teasing him as he forged his parents signatures on the discharge papers and threw on his jacket. On the outside, everything seemed normal. But with each step out of the hospital and into the bustling streets of New Tokyo, Satoru couldn’t ignore the surreal sensations coursing through him.
As they walked, he noticed the colors around him seemed richer, more vivid. The sunlight was brighter than ever, and he could even make out the distant hum of traffic and the rhythmic beat of footsteps on the street in a way he’d never noticed before. Sounds that used to blend into the background now came alive with distinct clarity, like the street vendors calling out their deals or the faint clinking of coins in a cup. He found himself grinning, though he quickly covered it, hoping Shoko and Geto wouldn’t catch on.
Once he parted ways with his friends, Satoru ducked into an alley, eager to test out just how far these changes went. He glanced around, then focused on the nearest building, a three-story structure with narrow ledges and windowsills. He flexed his hands and felt that faint tingle from before, almost like his muscles were thrumming with energy, as though something deep within him was waiting to be unleashed.
With a burst of confidence, he reached up and grabbed the edge of the first window ledge. His hand seemed to stick to the surface, and he felt a strange ease as he hoisted himself up with barely any effort. Climbing felt natural, almost instinctual, as he scaled the building effortlessly, moving from ledge to ledge until he reached the top, breathing only slightly heavier than normal. He looked down, heart pounding with excitement as he realized just how far he'd come with barely a bead of sweat.
For the next few days, Satoru honed these strange abilities in secret. He found that he could leap several feet in the air, lifting his entire weight with ease, and his reflexes had sharpened to the point that he could catch a falling object before it hit the ground without even thinking about it. At home, he practiced in his room, keeping his movements swift and silent. But hiding his new powers became tricky when it came to everyday life.
He had to remind himself to walk at a normal pace, not to slam doors by accident, and to avoid overdoing it when reaching for things. More than once, he found himself gripping something—like a cup or a book—only to nearly crush it in his hands. He made a habit of wearing gloves in front of his family to keep them from noticing how sticky his grip seemed to be at times.
At school, he kept his distance, careful not to reveal just how fast he could dodge or how precise his aim had become. His classmates might have thought he was just focused on his studies, but in reality, he was constantly aware of every sound, every movement around him, his senses alive with newfound sharpness.
Yet, every time he looked in the mirror, Satoru felt a pang of disbelief. This new strength was thrilling, but the mystery of what exactly had happened to him—and what else might still change—kept him on edge. The spider bite had unlocked something inside him, something that seemed beyond his understanding, and for now, all he could do was keep it hidden and hope it wouldn’t get him into even more trouble.
"Yo, earth to Satoru! For fucksakes man, I've been calling you for about five minutes. You good?" Geto questioned his bestfriend, flicking the boy's head.
Satoru blinked seeming hyper aware of his surroundings once more, sitting at the lunch table with his friends.
"Shoko was explaining that she has free time to go see that aliens movie if you still wanna go... Hey, since when did you start wearing contacts?"
Satoru cleared his throat, forcing a grin as he adjusted his seat. "Oh, yeah—uh, thought I'd try the contacts thing. Glasses were getting annoying, you know?" He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling an uncomfortable warmth creep up as Geto and Shoko both kept their eyes on him.
Shoko arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she let it slide, taking a long sip of her milk tea. “Right. Well, if you’re done spacing out, are you still down for the movie tonight?”
“Of course!” Satoru said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He winced, then shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalance. “I mean, yeah, sounds good. I could use the distraction.”
Geto leaned back, crossing his arms and studying him thoughtfully. "Okay, but seriously, man, something’s different about you. You’re... taller? And last week you had those huge bags under your eyes, but now…” He squinted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “It’s like you’ve hit some weird puberty growth spurt overnight.”
Satoru forced another laugh, brushing off his friends' observations with a dismissive wave. "Maybe I just finally got a good night's sleep. Been hitting the books too hard, I guess.”
Shoko wasn’t buying it. She watched him closely, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his posture, noting the way he seemed more poised, almost... alert, like he was holding back some bound-up energy. She shook her head slightly but decided to hold her tongue, letting Geto do most of the interrogating.
“Alright, fine,” Geto finally relented, shrugging. “Guess puberty is just hitting you like a truck, or maybe all those spider bites actually boosted your immune system or something.”
“Yeah, maybe it’s the spider bites,” Satoru muttered, forcing himself to look casual as he took a bite of his food, trying not to think about how true those words were.
As they settled back into their usual banter, Satoru’s mind wandered again, this time with a strange sense of exhilaration. He couldn’t wait to test the limits of his newfound abilities later, though he knew he’d have to be careful around Shoko and Geto. They might not have figured out his secret yet, but one wrong move, and they’d be onto him in no time.
The theater was packed, buzzing with the energy of weekend crowds as Satoru met up with Geto and Shoko by the concession stand. They handed him a large soda and a bag of popcorn, and the three of them made their way to their seats, laughing and chatting about random nonsense as the previews rolled.
Settling in, Satoru tried to focus on the movie as it started, the eerie music and ominous landscapes immersing him in the story. But not long after the first scene, a strange sensation began to creep over him—a tingling sense of unease prickling the back of his neck. He shifted in his seat, glancing around the theater, but everyone was engrossed in the movie, their faces dimly lit by the flickering screen.
“Satoru, you good?” Geto whispered, catching his movement.
"Yeah," Satoru replied quickly, forcing a casual smile. "Just... bathroom break, I’ll be back." He slipped out of his seat and exited the theater, the sensation growing stronger with each step he took.
The hallway outside the theater was quiet, with only the faint sounds of distant movie scenes filtering through the walls. Satoru turned toward the restroom, hoping the walk would shake the feeling off. Just as he rounded a corner, however, he heard muffled voices. A quick glance confirmed it: near the vending machines at the far end of the hall, a young girl was cornered by three men, their postures aggressive, her expression one of fear.
His heartbeat quickened, and he took a step closer, instinctively straightening, his mind racing. One of the men looked up and noticed him, his mouth twisting into a sneer.
"Hey, kid," the guy called out, his voice low and menacing, "mind your own business unless you want trouble."
Satoru froze for a moment, considering his options. He clenched his fists, then forced himself to nod and back away, walking to the restroom as if he hadn’t seen anything. But the uneasy feeling gnawed at him, intensifying with every step. There was no way he could just ignore it, not after what he’d seen.
Then, his gaze landed on a rack of merchandise near the entrance—specifically, an alien mask sold as part of a popcorn tub set. An idea sparked, and before he knew it, he grabbed the mask, slipping it over his head as he moved back toward the hallway. He made sure to pull the hood of his jacket up over it, creating a makeshift disguise. Heart pounding, he squared his shoulders and strode back toward the vending machines.
The men were still there, laughing and murmuring threats to the girl, who looked like she was struggling to hold back tears.
"Hey," Satoru called out, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. His stance was calm, but his body thrummed with the same strange energy he’d been feeling all week. "Leave her alone."
The men turned, looking stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Look, it’s a freaking alien coming to save the day!” one of them sneered, stepping closer. “You better walk away now, or you’re gonna regret it.”
Satoru felt a surge of confidence, his senses heightened, and without another word, he lunged forward, his fist connecting with the guy’s stomach hard. A loud crunch was heard (okay Satoru definitely needed to learn how to pull his punches.) The man stumbled back, clutching his middle in shock coughing in agony, and the others gaped before snarling and moving toward him. But Satoru was ready.
He ducked a punch, easily sidestepping and sweeping the man’s leg out from under him, watching as he tumbled to the floor. The other grabbed his shoulder, but Satoru twisted, using his newfound strength to wrench free and land another hit square in the man’s jaw. The guy staggered back, dazed, and before they could regroup, Satoru shot the girl a quick nod.
“Run. Now,” he said, his voice steady.
The girl hesitated, then nodded gratefully and took off down the hall. The men were left disoriented, clutching their bruises as they glared at him.
“You freak!” one of them shouted, reaching out for Satoru again, but he dodged, throwing one final punch that sent the guy crashing against the candy stand. With his heart pounding and his muscles humming, Satoru straightened, watching as the men scrambled to their feet and bolted out of the hall.
"I'd put some ice on those ribs.. maybe see a doctor." He called out after them.
Satisfied, he adjusted the alien mask and slipped back into the theater, where Shoko and Geto were too immersed in the movie to notice his absence. He pulled off the mask, hiding it in his jacket with a quiet, exhilarated breath.
He'd never felt so alive.
As Satoru settled back into his seat, the adrenaline still coursing through him, he felt an odd mix of exhilaration and relief. The movie flickered on, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about what just happened. He glanced at Shoko and Geto, who were completely engrossed in the film, unaware of the small battle he had just fought.
The eerie atmosphere of the movie now felt different to him; it was as if the tension on screen mirrored the heightened state he was in. He shifted in his seat, letting the popcorn bag settle in his lap as he tried to ground himself in the moment. But the feeling of empowerment lingered, nudging at the corners of his mind.
After a few moments, Geto turned to him, a bemused expression on his face. “What took you so long? Did you get lost in there or something?”
Satoru chuckled, brushing it off. “Yeah, just had a little trouble finding the restroom.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn, trying to focus on the movie and not the chaos he'd just left behind. But the image of the girl’s frightened face haunted him.
“Bet you’re glad to be back,” Shoko said, not looking away from the screen. “I heard the part where the spider-ant emerged from the woman's stomach—such a classic jump scare!”
“Totally,” Satoru replied, forcing enthusiasm into his tone. But inside, he was still replaying the confrontation in his head. He didn’t just intervene; he had fought back.
As the movie progressed, Satoru found himself occasionally glancing at the exit, half-expecting the men to return, though they were likely long gone. The thrill of standing up to them filled him with a strange sense of purpose.
“What are you thinking about?” Geto asked, noticing Satoru’s distracted demeanor.
“Just… the movie,” he said, forcing a grin. “It’s pretty intense.” He leaned back, trying to blend into the ambiance of the theater, but the incident weighed heavily on him.
Finally, as the credits began to roll, Satoru felt the energy of the theater shift. People started to stand and chatter, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do more. He leaned over to Shoko and Geto.
“Hey, what if we check out that comic shop down the street after this? I heard they have some new releases,” he suggested, hoping to keep the momentum of their night going.
“Sounds good to me!” Shoko replied, stretching her arms. “I could use a new read.”
Geto shrugged. “Sure, why not? Just make sure you don’t get us into any trouble, alien boy.”
Satoru laughed, feeling lighter. “No promises.” As they made their way out of the theater, he took a deep breath, the cool air outside refreshing against his skin. Maybe tonight would be the start of something new for him—something more than just movies and popcorn.
Two Years Later…
At seventeen, Satoru Gojo stood tall, his once-scrawny frame now replaced with defined rippling muscles, the result of relentless training and countless nights spent honing his powers. His snowy white hair had grown out in unruly waves (he should probably cut it), which he made no effort to tame. His dimples—something he never knew he had until recently—now made every smirk dangerous, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his classmates, who were starting to call him "unreasonably good-looking." Adding to the change were the black stud earrings glinting on both ears, giving him an effortlessly cool edge.
He slid a pair of sleek, pitch-black circular shades onto his face, shielding his hypersensitive sapphire-blue eyes from the glaring sunlight that threatened to overwhelm his vision. His eyes, once a challenge to focus, had become razor-sharp weapons. He could spot movement from blocks away, read the most subtle shifts in a person’s body language, and detect danger long before it arrived. But with these new skills came the annoying side effect of photosensitivity—regular daylight now felt like staring into a floodlight, hence the constant use of his shades.
It wasn’t just his body that had evolved—his entire life had shifted. For the past two years, Satoru had been living a double life, one that required not only skill but secrecy. By day, he was just another high school student at a private academy, juggling exams, family expectations, and the occasional run-in with Shoko and Geto. But by night, he was someone else entirely: Spider-Man, the masked vigilante swinging through the streets of New Tokyo.
The Suit
His transformation into Spider-Man hadn’t been easy. It had taken months of trial and error, sneaking into restricted areas of Gojo Enterprise’s labs, using the tech his parents had locked behind biometric doors and firewalls. He’d spent countless nights disassembling prototypes, siphoning materials, and testing equipment in secret. With no one to guide him, everything was self-taught—a series of failed experiments, some of which nearly blew up in his face. But eventually, the pieces fell into place, and the suit he envisioned became reality.
The final product was a sleek, custom-designed suit with a unique color palette that felt entirely his own. The base was matte black, hugging his athletic frame like a second skin. Blue accents streaked down the sides of his arms and legs, giving the suit a dynamic, aerodynamic look. And over his chest and back was the unmistakable insignia of a spider, rendered in bright white, striking a perfect balance against the black background.
He’d integrated tech from Gojo Enterprise into the suit, scavenging from discarded prototypes and building his own systems. The gloves housed web shooters—miniature, pressurized devices capable of firing synthetic webs strong enough to hold a car. His boots were equipped with magnetic grips that allowed him to cling to any surface effortlessly, and the suit itself was lined with a lightweight polymer, providing enhanced durability without sacrificing mobility.
Inside the mask, he’d embedded sensors that worked like augmented reality displays, feeding him real-time data—heat signatures, environmental readings, and even surveillance feeds he’d hacked from public cameras. He didn’t just fight crime; he studied it, locked in on threats with laser focus, moving like a shadow through the streets.
A Double Life
Two years of living like this had given him more confidence than he ever thought possible. No longer was he the awkward, nerdy kid struggling to fit in. He was stronger, faster, smarter—and it showed. His parents barely noticed the difference, too preoccupied with their business ventures to pay attention to his personal life, but that was just as well. It made it easier to keep his secret. Despite his parents not noticing; his classmates certainly did. Especially the girls.
To his friends, he was still Satoru, the same cocky kid they’d grown up with—just with a bit more... swag (cringe) now. He still met up with Shoko and Geto regularly, playing it cool as if he wasn’t sneaking out at night to swing from rooftops and take down gangs, smugglers, and corrupt politicians. They had no idea about the Spider-Man persona he’d created, and he intended to keep it that way. For now.
But even with all the training, the fights, and the wins, he knew this life wasn’t just fun and games. New Tokyo was a city of shadows, with forces far more dangerous than petty thieves lurking in its corners. And if he wanted to survive, he had to keep evolving—both as Satoru Gojo and Spider-Man.
He stood on the edge of a high-rise building, the night wind tugging at his hood, the city sprawling beneath him in a sea of glowing lights. A subtle smirk played on his lips as he adjusted his mask, tucking the alien mask that had started it all into his belt as a lucky charm.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, the thrill of the hunt thrumming through his veins. "Maximum effort, I got a chem test to study for.. just a quick patrol."
With a flick of his wrist, he fired a webline, the familiar thwip sound bringing a rush of excitement. The line caught on a nearby skyscraper, and in one smooth motion, Satoru launched himself into the night, disappearing into the cityscape like a shadow with a purpose.
Author's note: AHHHH! I've been working on this piece for months and I've done everything in my power to make sure it was perfect! I really hope everyone likes it because I really have worked super hard to make this the best piece of fiction I've ever put out. I plan to make the full story over on Ao3 if this gets enough positive feedback. Yes, Y/n has not been mentioned yet but she is coming and will be present and center in the next installment. The first big baddie is also going to be in the next chapter as well. I also want to note that this story is going to be very angst heavy so prepare yourselves. My last words of the night are be kind to one another, drink water, and live laugh love Gojo Satoru!
