fated to pretend
satoru and shoko, and a discussion of the concept of normalcy, no matter how relative it may be [ao3]
“Hey, Shoko. Why do you never heal your eyebags away?”
If Shoko is surprised by the question, she doesn’t show. She just shrugs and continues munching on her sandwich as she looks over the charts of one of her patients. Just another working lunch for her, another bad habit that Satoru has tried to make her quit in vain.
“It makes me feel normal,” is her quick and succinct answer.
“Normal?” Satoru scoffs as if the mere mention of the word offends him. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” Shoko shrugs. “It’s just one of those mundane things that makes me feel human, you know?” That is all the explanation she is planning to give, but she elaborates at the slight downturn of Satoru’s lips in confusion, and just before he could open his mouth to no doubt try to annoy a longer answer out of her, or worse, debate her on it. “It’s like the way RCT works, right? The way it heals is not exactly what you would consider a normal or orthodox way of recovering. It’s not how humans naturally heal, unlike modern science and medicine. I understand the need to heal fast in our world; it’s almost always life or death after all, but I’d like my eyebags to go away naturally.”
“Why?”
“It’s not something life-threatening and therefore worth using my cursed technique over. It’s just there. Plus, with the hours I work, it’ll just be a waste of time.” Shoko shoves the last of her sandwich in her mouth and downs the rest of the ramune Satoru bought for her to wash it down. “Besides, don’t you think it’ll be a good sign when they finally go away?”
Satoru huffs out a laugh at her cheeky grin. He thinks about what she said and concludes that it makes sense. In a way.
“I see your point. I guess.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You ever have moments when you just want to be normal?”
“Normal is relative,” Satoru scoffs and waves a vague hand. “Isn’t this our normal?”
“For the sake of this conversation not falling dead flat on its face, humor me.”
Satoru seems to really think about it and supposes he is being rather cynical about the whole ‘being normal’ take if he’s being honest. Of course, he’s thought about being normal and more…human now and again, even ordinary, sure. He has always had a curious mind, and Satoru has pondered the what-ifs of not being all knowing, all seeing, or all powerful.
But being all three of those is all he’s known, and Satoru isn’t exactly sure how he would fare being ‘normal’ or ‘ordinary’. Or if he’d even like it. She tells her this much.
“Knowing you? Oh, you’d absolutely hate it.”
“You think?”
“I’m sure. Positively loathe it. You’d be scratching at the walls trying to find a way to stand above the rest.”
“Sure.” He shrugs, trying for casual. “You’re probably right, but I guess it might be nice to not have to put out fires every second of every damned day and just be, to use your term, ‘normal’,” he says as he puts up air quotations with his fingers. Then he grins and lightly bumps her shoulder. “But that’s why I hang around you.”
“Oh? What are you trying to say?” Shoko smiles at him, calm, serene, and oh-so-threatening. “And I advise you to be very careful with your next words. I do handle all matters regarding your health, just saying.”
“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, doc. Chill out.” Satoru laughs, fixing the Ray-Bans he decided to wear today, when Shoko pulled them down his nose. “Unlike you, I can’t turn off my technique. I can’t just not use the Six-Eyes or take down Limitless.” Because every time he does, tragedy and mayhem always happen. “And I don’t have anything I can just let be like your eyebags because I have to have my RCT always running in the background so my brain doesn’t get fried.”
“Any more than it already is, yeah.”
“Shut up.” Satoru pouts and teasingly tugs at the ends of her hair. “Anyway, with all that on top of being the next clan head, I’m pretty much handed everything I want on a silver platter since birth and—”
“We get it. You’re rich and a very, very special boy. A gift to mankind, a god amongst men, a—”
“Shut uuppp! I’m trying to make a point here!” Satoru whines as Shoko snickers. “Anyway, as I was saying, before you just had to point out the obvious, things just happen for me. Sometimes, before I even ask for them, or even when I don’t need them. Inevitably, I grew up to be a spoiled, rotten brat.” He scowls when he sees her opening her mouth for another quip. “As you never fail to remind me, even now.”
“The biggest brat the jujutsu world has ever seen. Perhaps even the universe. I guess you’re kinda alright now, but, man.” Shoko shakes her head as she remembers their teenage years and how apparently insufferable Satoru was then. “High school you. Every time you opened your mouth, it took everything from Suguru and me not to punt you out the window. Or smother you in your sleep. Limitless be damned. Truly a herculean effort. The patience we exerted on you? Saintly. Even Yaga held back from really maiming you every time you open your mouth.” She pauses and looks up from the papers in her hands, squinting her eyes as if realizing something. “Maybe Geto was on to something, building a cult around him.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it already. Damn.” Satoru rolls his eyes under his sunglasses, but makes no effort to refute Shoko’s words. There’s no use since she only speaks the truth after all. Teenage him was a real arrogant, spoiled brat. He still is, but he’d like to think he’s toned it down to a lesser degree, what with Shoko always humbling him and only very, very rarely letting him get away with anything. “But you see what I mean now, right? I mean, you basically just proved my point.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“You make me feel…normal. Ordinary. You don’t see me as the Six-Eyes or Limitless. Hell, I don’t think you ever did, you muggle .” Satoru uses an old taunt he used to call her and Geto for their lack of knowledge of jujutsu society and class standing. “And that was…nice, you know? You never looked at me and decided how you’ll treat me based on merits or what I can do for you, or the favors or status you’ll gain from being associated with me.”
Not that Shoko ever had any designs of the sort other than occasionally making him pay for her bar tab—a small price to pay for everything she does for him. Satoru honestly wishes she’d ask for more.
“You’re still in denial about how much of a dork you were then, huh?”
“Hey! Don’t try to pretend you didn’t also cry at the end of Digimon Tamers when we were watching the reruns.”
“I never said Digimon was dorky. I said you were dorky,” Shoko easily counters. “And I didn’t wanna be caught dead with dorks like you, loser. You were gonna ruin my street cred.”
There is a pause before they both dissolve into giggles. But Shoko is right. She really was the coolest girl Satoru had ever met. Still is.
“You know, I’ve never heard anyone oppose or turn me down until I went to Jujutsu Tech? And I mean, let's be honest, even Suguru spoiled me sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. But you—” Satoru cuts off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. He pushes his sunglasses up to his head and turns to her with a smile and his clear blue eyes full of mirth. “You know the first time I heard the word ‘no’ said to me was from you?”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Remember in first year when I asked to copy your biology homework and you said ‘no’?”
“Yeah, that’s because I haven’t done it then either.”
“I know, but that’s not the point. You could’ve said you’ll let me copy it after you’re done, or offered to do mine.”
“Hah!” Shoko lets out a cackle and slaps the papers she’s holding on her thigh. “Fat chance I’d let you copy mine, and an even fatter chance I’d offer to do any of your homework for you.”
“Exactly. You don’t see me as Gojo Satoru, clan head and the first wielder of Six-Eyes and Limitless in the last three centuries, the Strongest sorcerer of our time,” Satoru says the titles bestowed upon him, which usually always come right after his name in an almost monotonous tone. “You make me work for things. You don’t see me as a god or a king or the strongest. With you,” he shrugs and pokes a finger to her cheek, “I could just be Satoru.”
“Tch. You’re not a god or a king. You’re just, and still are, a spoiled brat.” Shoko turns and attempts to bite at his finger just as Satoru laughingly retracts it. “Shitty, spoiled Satoru. SSS. You should have that on a shirt or engraved on something.”
“I love it when you’re mean to me.”
“Masochist.”
“Only for you~”
Satoru leans his weight on her as he singsongs and chuckles when Shoko lets him for a moment before shoving him off her.
“I don’t always make you work for things, you know?”
“Oh?”
“Uh-huh. For example, I’ve never made it hard for you to take a pretty girl out for a meal—” Satoru lets out a cackling laugh at this. “—and enjoy her company.”
“Is the pretty girl here with us right now?”
“I am,” Shoko counters smoothly. “I even choose where we go so your pretty little head doesn’t have to think about it.”
“How very generous.”
“You’re very welcome. Just a small payment for my ‘making you feel normal’ services.” Shoko smirks at him, cool as ever. Satoru barely held himself back from letting out a dreamy sigh. She gathers her things as she stands to leave. “Pick me up at six?”
“Six? Isn’t that too early? Your shift ends at nine, right?”
“Talked Okkotsu-kun into covering the rest of my shift so we could go to that bakery with the parfaits you like so much before it closes.”
Damn. Satoru really likes it when a woman has initiative and takes charge. Considerate too.
“Careful, Shoko. You’re spoiling me.”
“Sometimes you deserve it.” Shoko leans down to plant a kiss on his forehead, sweet and entirely indulgent, before turning to walk back to the Infirmary with a backhand wave. “See you at six.”
Satoru watches after her, wholly smitten and wishing the hours would go by fast.