guilty pleasures

isa · she/her · 20s · writer · multifandom ao3 · mlist · main

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 10

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 10k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

As funny as it sounds, the SNIPERS SHOOTING CLUB! was, in fact, like. A club.

After your third visit, you became an official member. Michio proudly gave you a round pin with the club logo on it. He even explained that there were monthly tournaments and you could participate; there was a fee, of course, and awards that ranged from a pack of beer to an all-paid dinner at a famous Korean barbecue house. You got curious, though, because Michio talked about the competition thing in the corner, while Gojo was in the bathroom.

He smiled sheepishly and explained in a quiet, hushed voice:

“Satoru always participated, you see. And he always won every tournament by a lot. So… the other club members started to get disheartened to participate.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “The tournament fees are a big part of the club’s income. I… am not very proud of saying this, but for my own sake, I had to ban Satoru from participating. Otherwise no one else would want to compete.” He got one step closer and lowered his voice. “But he doesn’t know that he’s banned, so… hum… it’d be kind of you if you kept this a secret.”

You had to laugh.

On your fourth visit, it already felt like routine.

Gojo would pop up. You’d drive to the shooting club (that was about twenty minutes away from home), practice for one hour, drive back home, Gojo would leave. He was busy; you were busy. That was the most free time both of you had anyway. 

On the evening of the fourth visit, though, Gojo decided to deviate the route a bit. He kept whining about how he had this disease called the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease and as you were a doctor it was your responsibility to take care of it and if he died of that disease it would be yoooooour fault.

So you stopped at an okonomiyaki restaurant, of course.

It wasn’t a fancy place, and it looked like it’d been here for ages, judging by the yellowed posters on the walls that looked like they were placed in the 2000’s and the amount of older customers. That’s how you know food’s good. The smells immediately made your belly rumble as if you had contracted the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease as well. Gojo was giggly, and excited, and kept wiggling from side to side like a fucking kid, and he honest to God would not shut up. He had let go of the jacket, exposing the (already usual) light blue dress shirt underneath. It was a bit of a funny contrast to see him dressed like a businessman on lunch break while acting like a boy.

Cute is what your mind kept repeating like a mantra, even though you wanted to ignore it.

Cute cute cute cute cute.

The waitress thought he was cute, too.

Obviously. How couldn’t she, when his smiles were so effortless and pretty, when his dimples said hi whenever he smiled, when happiness and excitement looked so good on him? How could she not blush, stutter and unconsciously put a strand of hair behind her ear?

You understood her. Truly, you did.

She was pretty and young, too.

Hm.

Food arrived. Gojo ate his first okonomiyaki, then two, then three. He kept hmmmm-ing at every bite. It was nice, you thought, to be around him in times like these; to talk about irrelevant things, like the film he watched last night (Sharknado 3, he said, calling it an “underrated masterpiece”), or about the new nurse you kinda had a feud with (“I know she doesn’t like me, I just can’t prove it yet”), to how the two of you were obsessed with Need For Speed Underground II when you were younger.

It felt so nice. Just two normal friends having lunch together. Talking about useless things, common interests, laughing at fun stuff.

Normal.

You had a 9mm inside your purse, though.

There was nothing normal about that.

The latent fear within yourself wasn’t normal, either. Your mind knew you were safe with Gojo; your body didn’t. It felt anxious in ways you couldn’t control. It kept getting startled at every movement the other customers did, even if they were mostly elders. 

This fear kept reminding you that your life — your existence — wasn’t normal.

So unfortunately, you had to talk about the abnormal things with the abnormal guy, although you’d rather not bring the mood down.

You waited until dessert arrived, at least.

Gojo asked for pudding (the large one, supposed to serve two people, but he wanted it all to himself). You settled for the small serving. How Gojo still had space in his stomach for more food was a mystery. His hmmmmmm’s!! became more aggressive. He really really liked sweets, huh?

You took two bites and cleared your throat.

His eyes immediately shot up to your face. You could see them over the glasses.

He already knew what that meant.

“So.” You began. You massaged the smooth surface of the pudding with the back of the spoon to busy your nervous hands. “The training’s been nice. I think I’m pretty good at it already.”

“Slow down, sweetheart.” His mouth was full, making him look like a squirrel. “You just started training with moving targets.”

“Yeah— but I’m pretty good at shooting, right?”

“Uh-huh. If your opponent stands still waiting to be shot, sure.”

The angry glare you sent him made him giggle. Little shit.

“Okay! I know I need to train more.” You pouted. The sane part of you realized that was ridiculous, so you ate a bit more pudding to mask that. Pouting? I’m someone that pouts now? I’m spending too much time with him. “But that’s not where I’m trying to get.”

“So where are you trying to get to?”

“I’ll get there if you let me talk.” Another pissed glare. Another amused giggle from him. “What about. You know. My technique?”

He took another spoonful. Albino squirrel. “What about it?”

“I still don’t know what to do with it at all.” You started to shake your leg nervously under the table. Shit, that’s embarrassing. “I thought… well… I thought—“

“You thought the Great Teacher Gojo Satoru would be training you already?”

Ugh.

You hated his smug expression. You hated how that’d just boost his already stratospheric ego.

But it was true.

Being completely honest, you thought after the “test” on the haunted house, he had made up his mind on teaching you. You thought it was already settled, like an unspoken deal. However… it’d already been almost a month and Gojo never even touched the subject.

You kind of sunk on the seat, resting your cheek on your palm, eyes glued on the pudding.

“…I mean.” You shrugged.

You braced yourself to what would follow.

“Oooow!” Sarcastic little shit. His eyes gleamed. He held his face with both hands, forcing a cute expression that you wanted to punch. “No need to act shy, Momorin! Everybody wants the honor to be taught by the strongest sorcerer alive! It’d be weird if you weren’t squirming with excitement, in fact!”

“I’m not squirming.” You kicked his shin under the table. He giggled viciously. “Be serious for a moment!”

“I aaaam being serious.” One more spoonful of pudding. He pointed at you with the spoon lazily afterwards. “I ain’t forget about that, sweetheart. But you’re in a complicated position, remember? You shouldn’t be receiving training. I have to be careful about how I’ll do it.” Okay. Fair. He had a point. “Also – I think you have more important things to deal with before we jump to the real stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Your anxiety.”

You froze.

His lazy smile was still there. His intelligent blue eyes analyzing you; the glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose slightly. You could kinda see them.

That felt like he had thrown a bucket of ice over your head.

There it was again— this thing about Gojo that made it so strange, yet instigating to be around him. Gojo was acting like a giant fool until that moment. Like a manchild. Babbling, giggling, moving like a hyperactive kid, humming loud as hell because he loooooved pudding and he was soooo obsessed with Tekken 5 back then and how he won a bunch of tournaments at an arcade when he was a kid because he’s soooo awesome at everything he does.

But now he was staring at you — and you knew he was seeing you, seeing inside of you, seeing through you. The stuff you so carefully were trying to hide. The quick glances around, how you tried to busy your hands so no one would notice your fingertips shaking a bit, how you smoked more cigarettes than usual to try to calm your system down. The things you didn’t open up to anyone, because that was unlike you. You were terrified of being a burden, of bringing anyone too much trouble — especially to Gojo, because you knew how much he was already doing for you. You didn’t want to be a reason for worry.

Gojo was seeing it nevertheless.

It wasn’t just about his supernatural blue eyes. It was about how much attention he was paying to everything around him; to you, even though he was great at hiding it behind a mask of nonchalance and playfulness.

It’d be on brand for you to try to brush it off. To say something snarky and witty, try to deviate his attention elsewhere. But there was no point in lying, was there? You knew he would see the truth in you anyways. 

So you just avoided his gaze again, feeling your shoulders shrink unintentionally.

Your brain realized that you were pouting again a second too late.

“Ooooow!” Shut up!! Shut up!! “You’re acting way too cute today, Momorin!”

“Don’t embarrass me even more!” you whined, biting one more angry spoonful of pudding. Your neck, nape and face felt hot. Gojo giggled again.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed of. It’s normal to be anxious when you’re being hunted. I mean— it’s normal to normal people, heh, ‘cause I—“ he straightened his back like a proud peacock and smirked. “—I ain’t ever felt anxious over this type of thing.”

“Wow. How inspiring.” The pudding tasted sour in your tongue. Wasn’t he the one who loved to brag all the time about being the strongest or whatever the fuck? You doubted he could understand you. “Who would be dumb enough to try to hunt the strongest guy around?”

“A whole lotta people since I came out of my mother’s womb.”

That made you pause.

Gojo ate more pudding. He stated that so quickly. So naturally. 

“You serious?”

“Yep!” He swallowed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this pretty head of mine on a silver platter?”

He was playful as usual. But the more you thought about it… your frown deepened.

“People were hunting you when you were a child?”

Gojo nodded.

Your stomach dropped.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment. You can’t obtain a technique… you have to be born with it. So since he was a toddler… since he was a baby…?

“Again— I knooow you love talking about me, because I’m such an interesting and amusing person,” you rolled your eyes. “but right now you’re the topic! We’re talking about your little problem.”

At that moment, though, you in fact wanted to talk about him. That piece of information was shocking. For the first time, you realized that, at the same time Gojo talked about himself all the time, he barely talked about himself; about what actually mattered. The silly stuff? He’d talk about it for hours. What he ate, what movies he watched, a joke he learned, this especially ugly person he saw on the subway or the stinky dog he petted on the street. He texted the whole day, sent photos in real time. Whenever you took your phone from your locker in the dressing room, it’d be packed with notifications from him.

But what about his job? What he did on his work trips? His classes, his students? His parents, friends, family? His past?

Gojo didn’t talk about any of that. Ever.

You had to learn through Ijichi that he was a member of an important jujutsu clan, after all, because he didn’t bother telling you. Gojo wasn’t just a sorcerer-teacher-whatever the way you thought — the way he didn’t try to make you think otherwise.

This man was an important part of your everyday life. At the moment, he had become your closest friend, simply because you couldn’t talk about your real problems with any of your friends anymore, not even with Mayu. And yet — you barely knew him.

This had to change.

But not now, clearly, as Gojo was so quick to change topics as soon as you got even close to talking about his childhood.

You rested your chin on your palm. “What do you want me to do? Take anxiolytics?" 

“Pfft. No.” He shook his head. Gojo’s pudding was almost over. He scooped a bunch of syrup from the plate and ate it heartily. “I want you to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“Well. I am anxious because I’m paying too much attention to everything.” Your leg started to shake as if to make a point. “I can’t relax.”

“No, you ain’t paying attention. You’re looking from side to side like a scared mouse.” He licked the spoon. Distracting. This time, his eyes were on you, not on the plate. “You’re not locking your attention on what actually matters.”

Gojo scooped more syrup from the plate. Instead of defending yourself like you’d usually do, you decided to listen.

“For example…” He licked the spoon again. His eyes were back on the plate. “That dude with the red jacket sitting near the front doors you’ve been eyeing the whole time.”

You froze.

Gojo wasn’t even looking at him. In fact, you didn’t even remember catching him looking that way.

You gulped.

“I— I thought I was being discreet,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. Gojo chuckled in response.

“Oh, you were. He isn’t.” It was true. The man, looking to be around his fifties, stole quick glances at your table all the time, which made you get more and more anxious. “And that’s the thing, see? He’s being obvious. But that uncle isn’t targeting you, he’s just being a man.”

You felt your nape getting hot with his implication. 

“And then there’s that other woman sitting behind us.” Once again, Gojo didn’t look back while he talked, more focused on taking every lasting drop of caramel syrup from his plate, but you felt even more embarrassed; you were focusing on her as well. She looked across the table to where you were all the time, zapping her eyes from her phone to your location constantly and making you nervous. “Well… she’s just being a woman.”

He wiggled his eyebrows smugly. You scrunched your nose in a grimace. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“What? I’m hot! It can’t be helped! Women will gawk at me, either you like it or not. But don’t worry, darling, I only have eyes for you.” He spoke that intentionally louder, intentionally dramatic, loud enough so that the woman behind you and the dude in red could hear, simultaneously making them avoid their gazes (they were paying attention) and you giggle in a mix of embarrassment and endearment.

Gojo finally looked up at you again, leaning a bit closer in your direction.

“What I mean with all this, Mori, is that when someone actually pops up targeting you – because that will happen sooner or later –, it’s not gonna be obvious like that.” His voice dropped. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose; you could see them. He still smiled a little bit, but it was different: mysterious. You knew what that tone, that expression meant. Gojo wasn’t playing. He meant every word. It was one of those moments when he looked wise in a way that seemed unfitting to someone his age. It almost looked like authority, in a way.

That was a man that knew what the fuck he was talking about.

He had your full attention.

“When a skilled curse user cross your path… it ain’t gonna be like in the movies. Some spy wearing a trench coat, dark shades and a fedora hat.” You giggled briefly at the idea. He couldn’t help himself but joking a little, even when he was being serious. “They’ll be silent. They will know how to creep around you without being noticed. It ain’t gonna be sudden, either. Maybe they’ll be creeping for days… weeks… making you feel used to their presence. Waiting ‘til you have your guard down.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Uhm… none of the people that came after me ‘til now were that silent.” Not at all. Both attempted kidnappings happened in broad daylight, with a bunch of possible witnesses and literal media coverage.

“That’s why I said skilled curse users.” His voice dropped even lower. He leaned a bit closer. “Truth is… you might not even notice what’s happening until it’s too late.”

His words sunk in. The air around you felt heavier, more difficult to breathe.

“What should I do?” You asked.

Gojo scooped a little bit of caramel that still remained on the plate. “If you ain’t gonna see them,” He licked the spoon. Distractiiiing. He pointed at you with the now clean spoon. “You gotta sense them.”

“How?”

“People like us accumulate cursed energy, some much more than others. Regardless of how vast one’s energy reserves are, it is always possible to feel that emanating from them in a way a normal person won’t. That’s how you will recognize a threat. That’s how you’ll pinpoint a curse user in the middle of a packed crowd.”

You nodded slowly and crossed your arms. “How can I do that?”

Gojo pouted, poking the back of the spoon on his lips absently. “It’s not that hard. It should feel pretty natural, to be honest. But I guess it won’t feel that way for you, since you awakened your technique much later in life.” He shrugged. “I guess my presence doesn’t make it any easier for you, either. I might be stunting your senses.”

For a second, you thought that he was boasting his own ego again, but it didn’t sound like it.

“In what way?”

Gojo smirked and leaned his head to the side.

“Let’s just say I am too much.”

You pretended to not understand the double meaning there.

You actively decided to ignore it for your own sanity, in fact.

“I don’t get it.” You stated. 

Gojo hummed and straightened his back, leaning on the chair once more. He let go of the spoon and crossed his arms.

“Hmm… lemme try something.”

You frowned a bit. “You’re not gonna make me fight a curse out of nowhere, right? ‘Cause I never trust you when you come with this ‘lemme try something’ talk–”

You froze.

The words you were about to say derailed in your throat. Forgotten. Your eyes widened.

You looked around.

It was silent. Nothing had changed.

But, at the same time–

“So?” Gojo eyed you with much interest. 

You blinked several times. 

“I… I can’t…”

He smiled. Gojo already knew what you meant.

Thankfully so, because you couldn’t even begin to explain what you were feeling.

Or rather not feeling. 

That was precisely it: the absence of feeling. The lack of something that was there all along; like someone had pulled a warm blanket from over your body out of nowhere, exposing you to the cold. Like a little, constant note that had been playing in your ears for so long that you hadn’t even noticed it was there, until someone finally turned the radio off.

It was silent.

For the first time in longer than you could even remember, it was silent.

“What did you do?” You finally asked.

“Masked my own cursed energy. Yeah, I was right. I was really stunting your senses. My bad.” Gojo shrugged once again. “How do you feel?”

You gulped. “It’s… quiet.”

He sent you a puzzled look. “That’s an interesting way to put it.” He remarked. “This is how a ‘normal’ environment is supposed to feel. No cursed energy. If there is something, however…”

Gradually.

The tune came back. Low, very low, until its volume was back to what you were used to. The warmth; the blanket being carefully put over your body again. It was back. Except this time, after experiencing its absence, you noticed its presence.

It felt gentle, in a way.

“...it should feel like this,” Gojo continued. “Though weaker. You have to learn how to refine your perception. Very skilled sorcerers know how to mask their cursed energy just like I did. You gotta look for that spark in the darkness; that little light, the perception that something is off. That something that shouldn’t be there is.”

You nodded slowly.

That was mesmerizing.

You had no other way to put it.

Mesmerizing.

It was like you had awakened some sort of sixth sense. Something extraordinary. And yeah — maybe you shouldn’t be that shocked; you had enough time to let everything regarding jujutsu sink in. The fact that this hidden society existed, that your hallucinations were real, that a person could possess super human powers. But quite honestly, until that moment, you still hadn’t felt different. Yes, you exorcized a curse willingly at the haunted house; but even then, it didn’t feel that you were doing much. You hadn’t felt extraordinary.

At that moment, as you finally sensed Gojo’s cursed energy — or the lack of it —, something clicked inside your head.

You weren’t a normal person thrown into a foreign world. You were part of it. This world just felt foreign because you had entered it later in life. 

For the first time, you didn’t just come to terms that you had to learn how to use your technique; you felt… excited about it.

And maybe Gojo noticed that, too, given the little smile on his lips. It wasn’t his usual flippant smirk. You avoided his gaze, focusing on what little remained of your pudding. You didn’t want to deal with the expression that looked dangerously like endearment. You didn’t want to acknowledge how that made you feel.

Not at that moment.

In the end, the only thing that came from your mouth was a frustrated groan when Gojo lifted his hand out of nowhere and said:

“Waitress! Can you bring me one more pudding?”

Goddamnit.

You had imagined how the training would go.

Granted, the fault was on your fertile imagination. I mean, what else comes to mind when someone says training? To yours, the view of Goku and Gohan exchanging blows in the Time Room came as clear as day. Yoda hanging from Luke’s back on a swamp planet. You even imagined Gojo going jacket on! Jacket off! Pick up the jacket!! 

In other words, you thought it’d be cool.

Him sitting on the sofa holding a bunny plushie didn’t look cool.

You were rotting in bed on your day off, mindlessly scrolling in your phone, when a text of his popped up: super incredible sensational jujutsu training with great teacher Gojo Satoru begins TODAY!!!! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ and that was more than enough to make you jump off the bed and take the pajamas off. You panicked for two seconds, thinking, should I put on gymwear?, but you imagined he would’ve told you so if it was needed, so you settled for something comfortable and light — a simple white t-shirt and black jogger pants — before leaving your room.

You didn’t expect he’d already be sitting there in the living room.

Gojo wore his usual uniform. Today, instead of the bandages covering his eyes, the black blindfold. It didn’t look like he was ready to get up, though, judging by the way he was so relaxed, sitting with his legs spread open like that.

You stood at the entrance and looked at him awkwardly.

He probably had been sitting there for a while. He probably heard you jumping off the bed and rushing to get changed. 

That was a bit embarrassing.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly.

Gojo smiled. “You look excited!”

Ugh.

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

His smile widened. Dimples. “That’s the spirit!”

You walked into the living room tentatively. “So… where is this training going to happen?”

“Right here!”

You stopped on your tracks, frowning.

“...Here?”

“Yep!”

“But Mayu’s home.” It was Sunday, after all.

“Won’t be a problem!”

That was a bit disappointing. Half of your excitement vanished.

“Here’s your training buddy, by the way!”

And then he lifted the plushie, holding it with both hands as if he was handing you a cat.

The thing was… creepy.

It was a floppy white bunny. Yeah, it sounds cute, but this plushie was all battered up as if an angry kid used it to unleash all of their anger on it, dragging it by the leg and beating it on the walls repeatedly. The legs, arms and ears were all comically long. It had two buttons as eyes, the left one being bigger than the other, in purple and yellow.

Gojo peeked his head from behind the plushie, still smiling.

“I picked him so you can think of me while you train!” You just kept looking at him in silent confusion. Gojo seemed disappointed that you didn’t get what he meant. “Uh, white bunny? Cinnamorroll? Duh-huh?”

“Oh.” Jesus. You had forgotten about the merch you bought him. You quirked one eyebrow. “Cinnamorroll is a dog, though.”

The smile vanished from his lips.

He dropped his arms down his lap again, so it looked like the plushie was sitting there, its head flopped down in disappointment. You could see the outline of his furrowed brows under the blindfold. “A dog?”

“Yeah.” 

Gojo thought about it for two seconds. “That’s awful character design.”

“Uh-huh.” You approached him, standing near the couch, and motioned to touch the plushie. “So… what am I going to do with it–?”

Gojo shifted, yanking the plushie away from your reach. “Nuh-huh! Put the gloves on first!”

“Gloves–?” He pointed at it with his chin.

You turned around to see a pair of thick grey gloves over the coffee table. Like, really thick gardening gloves. These too looked old, clearly bigger than your hand size. 

Again – weird.

But you decided not to question it. You put the gloves on anyway. Gojo moved to the side, giving you space to sit down, and so you did. 

“Now, as I was saying, Satocchi will be your training buddy from now on.” 

“Excuse me– Satocchi?”

“Yup.” He grinned cheekily. “I mean, that’s practically my twin!”

You rolled your eyes. He giggled. A part of you was giggling, too, but fuck that part. Gojo at last handed you the plushie, which you held awkwardly in those big, uncomfortable gloves.

“Will there be any further explanation or I’ll have to figure out what to do–?”

The bunny jumped.

It fucking jumped.

You jumped, too, shrieking, shocking your back against the couch, pulling your legs off the ground too and gluing them to your chest because what the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! The thing moved?! It’s moving?! It’s– it’s–

Breakdancing?!

You watched, eyes widened, heart racing, as the bunny was literally, without any exaggeration, b-boying over the coffee table, moving like a human being without emitting a sound or music.

Gojo cackled.

He threw his head back, laughing at the top of his lungs. You just kept watching the creature without batting an eye.

You heard rushed steps up there.

“What happened?!” Mayu asked from the top of the stairs. You panicked. What if she comes down and sees this?!

“Nothing!” You screamed back. “A– A cockroach!”

“A cursed corpse!” Gojo screamed at the same time as you. You aggressively threw a cushion on his face, to which he deflected with ease and laughed harder.

“A cockroach!” You screamed louder this time. “Just a cockroach!”

“Ew!” You heard Mayu saying up there… and her steps back to her room.

Thank God.

Your head whipped in Gojo’s direction again. “Make it stop!” You hissed.

“No, you have to make it stop.” He was still laughing.

“How the fuck–?” You looked at it again. The plushie was moonwalking. You shivered. 

Finally, Gojo moved.

He leaned closer to the table. Took the plushie by the ears; the moment his hand touched it, the thing stopped moving. Flopped, lifeless once again.

He turned to you. The laughter had finally died down, but he still held a very entertained smile there.

“Satocchi right here is programmed to stop moving when it feels cursed energy. If you don’t put that to work, it’ll dance.”

Oh.

You eyed him, and the plushie, and him.

You didn’t want to touch that thing. Not at all.

“I don’t know how to do that.” You gulped.

“You do! You just don’t know that you do. But it’s intuitive. It ain’t something complicated to do, but like I said before, you’re unaware of it because your technique awakened late.” Slowly you sat like a normal person again because Gojo was going into his wise mode. Oh, so he’s not playing. This is serious. “Tell me; the moments you used your cursed energy, even if unconsciously, how did you feel?”

You thought about it.

When you were kidnapped, wrapped in paper tags (seals) and managed to free yourself with black “flames”; when you “fought” against the frog-like curse at the haunted house; or even that little curse you accidentally stepped on. The thing you felt during all of those situations was…

“Anger.” You stated. “I was angry… and it happened.” 

Gojo nodded. “And how did you feel afterwards?”

You thought about it again. “…Very tired. Like… my legs.” You gesticulated awkwardly towards them. “Feel heavy as if I’d run a marathon.”

Gojo nodded again. “That’s because you’ve just been bursting cursed energy without any control over it. And that sucks, ‘cause you’re burning your supply all at once; it’s impractical, because you’ll see yourself without cursed energy to use, and it takes a tool on your body.” He pointed at you. “Your cursed energy control is bad. Like, bad in ways that baffle me. Again— I think it’s because your technique awakened very late. Right now, you’re like Ariel when she gained legs, you know? Stumbling around and stuff.” 

You nodded slowly. It hadn’t occurred to you that anything he was saying mattered. So… cursed energy was like gas in the tank and you had to know how to spend it wisely. According to what he said in the restaurant, some people could have a bigger tank than others. Okay. All of that was understandable.

“It means that putting out cursed energy is something as natural as walking?” 

“Yes.” Gojo held the plushie with both hands again. “What I want you to do… is envelop your own body with a very thin layer of cursed energy, enough to make Satocchi sense it, and keep it intact, until you can make it permanent with no effort.”

You nodded again. Cursed energy was like walking… and that plushie was like a walker, because you had never “walked” before. 

He handed you the plushie.

You took it with both hands.

It immediately started dancing. Now that your grip was firm and you were aware that it would move, though, you didn’t let it leap away. The bunny kept wriggling from side to side, legs and arms twitching around (was it dancing to Thriller?!), and it felt the same as trying to hold a hyperactive kitten that clearly didn’t want to be held.

“This is–” you groaned. “–distracting!”

“C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“I don’t–” it almost jumped away. “–I don’t know how!”

“Pull the energy without relying on any emotions.” He was using that whiny tone that was really annoying. “Remember, using cursed energy is like using your legs. It ain’t that hard.”

You looked down at the plushie angrily while it swayed from side to side once more. 

Not relying on emotions.

How did it feel that time in the meat locker with the kidnappers?

You were so angry. You were begging your body to do something. Then… you felt heat in your chest, so bad that you thought you were suffering from cardiac arrest. It had an actual effect on your body, differently from when you stepped on the rat at the hospital or even when you exorcised the frog-like curse.

It wasn’t just about emotion. You had pulled a reaction out of yourself, even if unintentionally.

You frowned in concentration.

Try to tap that place again.

My chest.

The heat.

You felt it.

It wasn’t nearly as strong as that time… but it was there nevertheless. That thing you couldn’t name, that was part of you, yet you had never noticed before. 

“Slow,” Gojo said in somewhat of a warning tone. “Go slowly.”

Instinctively, your fingers curled around the plushie with the effort. Less heat. You toned it down. It’s still here, you noticed. Okay. Now pull it. Slowly like he said.

It spread from that tiny point in your chest until you felt it covering all of your ribcage, down to your stomach, up to your shoulders.

“Am I doing the thing?” You asked in a voice strained by effort.

“Yeah, you’re doing the thing.”

Almost at the same time, Satocchi interrupted its impeccable Thriller performance and flopped motionless like a regular plushie doll.

“Ooooh,” you breathed out in a mix of relief and excitement. “It’s–”

Satocchi twitched.

You shut up and focused on pulling the thing again.

Gojo giggled.

“Wow, you’re so bad at this, it almost pisses me off.”

“Shut up–” you felt the heat get stronger without meaning to.

“Uh-uh! Tone it down! Keep the even flow even if you’re angry!” 

Okay. Less heat. 

The plushie stopped moving.

You looked at him angrily.

“It’s my first try, okay?! You’re not being very supportive!”

“Nah, I’m making you mad on purpose so you can train your cursed energy flow while feeling different emotions.” He grinned cockily. “I’m so smart!”

You rolled your eyes. Satocchi twitched again. You focused on it.

“How long do I have to do this?” You asked after a while. “I don’t want Mayu to see it.”

Gojo hummed. You lifted your eyes to him again; he was eyeing his phone, typing something with one hand, while the other arm went to rest on the couch’s backrest comfortably. 

“Now that you mentioned it, how long do you plan on hiding everything from her?” His voice was quieter, a new hint of seriousness and interest there. “‘Cause, you know, you can’t do that forever.”

You immediately grimaced.

“...Do I even have to?” This time, you were the one whining quietly like a kid. Your leg started to shake on instinct. Gojo huffed.

“I mean.” Even though he wore the blindfold, you knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot. Maybe you were an idiot. It was a bit offensive to be considered an idiot by the idiot guy. “Your case won’t get solved that quick, if you hadn’t already noticed. I might even say that things will get more complicated as we progress. It’ll get harder and harder to keep everything from her.”

“It’s not–” Satocchi twitched. You focused on it. It stopped moving. “–that easy.”

“Why not?” You could see the outline of his eyebrow quirking under the blindfold. Each word of his made you more uncomfortable. “Plenty of non-sorcerers know about jujutsu. Government people, cops, sorcerers’ relatives…”

“It’s ‘cause–” The bunny twitched again. You groaned, trying to focus on your cursed energy flow.

It’s because Mayu has already been through enough.

Mayu didn’t have a mother she remembered well. She lost her dad when she was eleven. You brought her back to Japan, a country she was not born in, and even though she luckily adjusted fast and well, you knew it wasn’t an easy change. Mayu dealt with feelings and absences you knew you’d never be able to fulfill, even if you did your best.

You just wanted to offer some stability in her life. Some comfort. Some normalcy.

You never planned to have this strange power awaken out of the blue, to be targeted, to have to learn how to defend yourself, to be taken out of your homes. You hated that Mayu couldn’t go wherever she wanted anymore. The thought that she was in danger because of you was maddening. You didn’t want Mayu to be even more scared or worried; she did not need this heavy of a weight over her shoulders. 

At least, not yet.

“You might think it’s not that deep, but it’s because you were born in this world, okay?” You stated somewhat angrily whilst trying to keep Satocchi immovable. “Neither me or her were. Mayu’s normal. You can’t just come to a normal person and say, look, there are dangerous spiritual creatures lurking around. Also I have supernatural powers and someone wants to get me for whatever reason.”

Gojo snorted again. “It’s what you were told. It’s what everyone who’s involved with jujutsu is told. You get used to it eventually.”

“It’s not–” Even flow even flow even flow. Satocchi stopped moving again. “Look, it’s not like I’ll never tell her. I know I can’t hide things forever. It’s just–” You gulped. “Not now.”

Gojo eyed you in silence for some seconds, expression unreadable. He probably still thought you were an idiot.

“Okay.” He finally said, shrugging. “Well. But if you don’t want her to find out about anything now, you better work on your training very hard.”

You frowned. “What do you mean…?”

Almost as if being summoned, you heard steps up there.

Your back stiffened.

Faster than you could even look back, Mayu jumped over the couch and plopped down between you two.

“So, who’s making the popcorn?” She asked excitedly.

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

Mayu turned to you with confusion. “Ain’t we gonna watch a movie?” She waved her phone lightly. “Blindfold-san said in the groupchat.”

What?!

“Yes!” Gojo exclaimed with excitement. “I just found out that Mayu-chan never watched Gladiator! Like, what have you been teaching this kid, Momorin?! This is unacceptable!”

He stood up in a jump. You hadn’t noticed the DVD case over the coffee table. Mayu sat more comfortably while he turned the TV on.

She eyed your gloves with awkwardness.

“Why the hell are you wearing these?”

Your back was stiff, your arms were stiff, your legs were stiff– you felt the plushie twitching– shit shit shit shit shit–

Even flow! Even flow! Even flow!!

“Gardening.” You said between gritted teeth. “I was gardening.”

She still eyed you like you were a weirdo. “...Okay.”

The Universal Studios logo filled the screen. Gojo ran back to sit on the couch. 

He’s not doing this to me.

He’s not fucking doing this to me.

You couldn’t move. Panic filled your system. Mayu was right there. If the plushie moved a centimeter– if your flow weakened just a bit– there’s no way she wouldn’t see it. 

“And this plushie?”

You froze even more than what you were already frozen.

“It’s a gift from me!” Gojo had the decency to at least intervene this time.

She scrunched her nose. “It’s so fugly.”

“Don’t talk about Satocchi like that.” Gojo pouted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“The movie.” You groaned in a sound similar to the cry of a wild animal that was caught in a trap. “Pay attention to the– movie.”

She paid attention to the goddamn movie.

Even flow even flow even flow even flow–

Four minutes into the film, Gojo whined very dramatically. Your head whipped in his direction.

“Waaah… something urgent popped up outta nowhere! I gotta go solve it!”

You son of a fucking bitch–

“Do you want to pause the movie?” Mayu asked.

“No, it’s fine. Finish watching it!”

He got up from the couch.

So he was just going to walk out like that?! Leave you with the fucking plushie that moves?! After what you just told him about not letting Mayu know?!

What the fuck?!

He walked out of the living room. You looked at him from over your shoulder, sending a last pleading, desperate gaze that said please help me!!

Gojo waved a very sarcastic goodbye, opening a disgusting smirk in an expression that said No!!

And he left.

Just like that.

Shit.

Fuck.

Satocchi twitched.

You changed positions on the couch to try to disguise it. Thankfully, Mayu’s eyes were glued on the screen.

Okay.

I can do this.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were panicked. You were pissed. Your feet were cold. Your back hurt. Keep pulling it. Even flow. Even flow. It shouldn't be that hard. It’s like walking. It’s like using your legs. Pulling cursed energy from within you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping this constant flow definitely was. Satocchi’s shoulder moved. You groaned, tried to pretend that it was because of that scene when Maximus finds his dead wife and son. Mayu was locked in the movie. Oh my God. Okay. We’re making progress. Even flow. Even flow. ‘I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the armies of the North, General of the Felix legions–’ SHUT THE FUCK UUUUP. Shut up!! You couldn’t focus. This scene is so fucking cool, a part of you thought, the soundtrack is amazing, while the other part kept yelling shut the fuck uuup!!

Even flow. Even flow. 

Mayu wasn’t even blinking. You weren’t, either, but because of your inner terror. God– the music in this movie really is phenomenal. It always made you want to cry. Shit. Maximus walking on the fields, on the verge of death, seeing his wife and son in the distance. Shit. Shit. Your eyes were watery. Mayu’s were, too. ‘You’re home,’ Lucilla said, while he closed his eyes for the last time. The music got louder. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wanted to cry. Mayu, too. The actress’ outfit is gorgeous, you thought. Those earrings… wow. Wait– the pillars in the colosseum look like dildos. Now you wanted to cry and to laugh.

The movie was over.

Mayu sniffed.

“That was so good!” She stated, trying to pretend that she wasn’t crying a little. “What the hell? I didn’t know it was this good!”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Ugh.” Mayu got up. “I gotta pee.”

She left the room.

Credits were rolling.

You were in the same position for two hours. Your knees were stuck.

But the plushie didn’t dance.

You were angry, panicked, emotional for a little while, and even wanted to laugh. But the plushie didn’t dance.

I did it! I mean, it twitched a bit, but that doesn’t count, right?

You didn’t want to do it anymore.

You couldn’t count on Gojo to come help you; but you couldn’t drop Satocchi, either, because it would start breakdancing immediately.

Hmmmm.

An ideia popped up.

You looked down. The heat in your chest… you pulled it. From your chest, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your hands. More energy, more heat. You upped the output. It was tricky, and tiring, and maybe sloppy, but after some effort, your cursed energy enveloped the plushie; like before, it had an eerie black hue that resembled fire. You retracted the energy quickly, afraid that it’d make you exhausted like before.

Tentatively, you let go of the doll.

It rested immovable on the couch.

I did it again!

At last, you got up from the couch.

Your first instinct was to grab your phone and text Gojo how much of a son of a bitch he was. 

But you thought about it.

He said you should work on your cursed energy control regardless of how you felt. And… it worked. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked so well if you weren’t under such pressure.

He was an asshole, but an asshole with good methods.

Ugh.

It was getting quite late. It’d been a while since you cooked for the kids.

After smoking a cig, you headed to the kitchen.

Cooking was a nice activity simply because you could turn your mind off, just focusing on the tasks you had to perform. Wash hands. Wash rice. Put rice in the cooker. Take steak, onion, garlic. Take cutting board. Take knife. It was easy. You usually didn’t allow your mind to wander to unwanted places while you cooked.

You heard the front door opening. After a while, Fushiguro entered the kitchen.

He wore the usual dark uniform. The boy seemed a bit tired, given the circles under his eyes and hunched back.

He looked surprised to find you there.

“Welcome home,” you said absent mindedly. Fushiguro replied with a quiet hi.

You heard him open the fridge behind you. You just kept cutting the meat in thin slices.

“Were you on a mission?” You asked, once again, absent mindedly. 

“Training.” His tone was still quiet.

“Hm.” Some seconds of silence. “You must be hungry, then.”

Fushiguro didn’t answer.

You heard the sound of water being poured in a cup. He drank it there, in the kitchen, behind you. After a while, he left.

Two minutes later, he came back.

You were busy chopping onions. Once more, you noticed him opening the fridge… then a cabinet. He was just… there.

Fushiguro so obviously wanted to say something.

He was orbiting around you, as if gathering courage.

Saying anything would embarrass him. So you just went on with your task, pretending to not notice.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Fushiguro stepped closer.

It seemed that he was ready to say it–

Mayu stormed into the kitchen.

She bumped her hip on yours, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ooooh. What are you cooking?”

“Gyudon.” 

Mayu let another excited ooooooh. “D’you want help?”

She had a really nice habit of offering help in the kitchen (though she hated doing the dishes. Mayu didn’t complain about doing it since you moved here, however. Being in someone else’s house put her in place. Or your constant scoldings, whatever). You thought for two seconds. 

“I think I’m gonna prepare some cabbage, too. Can you cut it for me?”

“Okaaay.” Mayu walked towards the fridge.

Fushiguro was on the way.

They sent each other death stares in silence. 

He stepped aside to let her pass. Fushiguro messed his own hair; after sending you a last weird glance — he didn’t expect you’d be watching, it seemed, by the way his ears flushed — he, at last, left the kitchen with a grumpy pout.

Oh.

You wanted to know what he was going to say.

Mayu took a second cutting board and positioned herself by your side. The kitchen island was so big that the two of you could cook side by side without bumping on each other. So different from your tiny, egg sized kitchen. Whenever one of you decided to cook in your apartment, the other had to step away, otherwise you’d freaking argue.

It was silent for a few seconds. Only the quiet crunch of knives slicing vegetables against a cutting board.

“You should try being nicer with Fushiguro,” you said quietly. Mayu groaned.

“Why don’t you tell him to be nicer with me?” Her voice was already venomous. Your first instinct was to knock her head with the knife handle. Calm down. Be adult.

“Because we’re intimate. I don’t have that freedom to talk about these things with him.” A few seconds of crunch crunch and thud thud. “Also. Because we’re in his house, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, come on. He has the right to be an asshole with me just because I’m in his house? I didn’t come here ‘cause I wanted to.” You knew Mayu wasn’t directing those words to you, but that felt like a punch in the gut nevertheless. You played it off cool, though. “What is this? A dictatorship? I’m not gonna be quiet if someone’s being mean to me, it doesn’t matter who it is or where I am.”

Okay.

She had a very fair point.

You couldn’t even argue with her on this matter. You taught her to be like that.

Crunch crunch. Thud thud. Your eyes were burning a little because of the onion. You started to peel garlic.

“Okay. But I’m not saying you should try being his friend. Just be nicer for the sake of coexistence.” The garlic you unpeeled was moldy. You grimaced and threw it in the trash before taking a new one. “Sometimes it’s socially acceptable for you to be kinda fake. Do you think I like everyone I work with? Do you think I love every patient that comes to me? Of course not.” Crunch crunch. Thud thud. You frowned. “Like… like Umi.”

Your face twisted in a disgusted grimace as if you’d slurped a lemon at the mere mention of her name. Mayu giggled.

“The nurse?”

“Yeah.” The way you unpeeled the garlic became more aggressive. “Do you think I like her annoying voice or how freakin’ inconvenient she is? Or the way she barges into conversations without being called? Or— or the way she doesn’t know how to pluck her eyebrows? God, I fucking hate her eyebrows.” Mayu giggled again. “I don’t. But when she says good morning, I say good morning. When she says the weather’s nice today, I say yeah and go on about my day. Got it?” Another garlic. “I’m not gonna be her friend, but I’m not gonna treat her like shit, because I want peace. I spend most of my time in that hospital, what would my life become if I argued with everyone I dislike?”

Mayu nodded. It seemed she was taking what you said in consideration, at least.

“Mrreow.”

You looked down.

Countess had finally felt the smell of the meat you’d been cutting. She stood near the kitchen island, looking up expectantly with that ugly face.

“Nothing for you here, fat ass.” You said in somewhat of a hiss. Mayu shocked her hip on yours again, more aggressively.

“Don’t be mean to her!”

You looked down at the cat again. She eyed you with contempt. “I tolerate her too, see? I feed her and let her in my house because of you, but I don’t like her.” Mayu rolled her eyes and groaned. “Now take her out of here, you know I don’t like cats in the kitchen.”

Mayu crouched down and carried that miniature cow out of the room to feed her. How she didn’t break her back with the effort was a mystery.

You finished cooking in peace.

Gyudon, stir fried cabbage with carrot, ocha. You and Mayu sat down in the tatami room to eat. You tentatively texted Fushiguro to have dinner (because you didn’t feel comfortable to yell for him to come downstairs), though you already expected he wouldn’t want to dine with the two of you, and he really didn’t. It seems he was paying attention to everything up there, though, because not even three minutes after Mayu left, he came downstairs. Fushiguro dined in the kitchen. He muttered a quiet thank you before marching back to his room.

And then you were alone in the kitchen again.

Time to put the pans back in the fridge.

You paused.

A memory rang in your ears.

Why didn’t you make a bento for me, too?

Hm.

Truth is. You knew he was being a jealous manchild, but you felt bad for not making a bento for him that day. The thought didn’t even cross your mind, actually.

There was still plenty of food.

Hmm.

It wasn’t hard to find that big lunch box in the cabinet — the one that looked big enough to store food for an army. You filled it with gyudon to the brim. If he doesn’t want it, I can just eat it tomorrow, you thought while trying not to feel like an idiot. I can share it with Remi.

You grabbed your phone from the back pocket.

you: are you actually busy or did you just lie?

You didn’t even have time to drop the phone.

Gojo Satoru: I’m busyyyyy ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა

Gojo Satoru: Last minute meeting with higher ups :P or some bullshit

Gojo Satoru: Also don’t call me a liar I never lie (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for some seconds. You didn’t know what to say.

Fuck it.

you: i made a bento for you

you: not that you deserve it

And then you put the phone on the kitchen island, screen down, as if it burned, and waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

He usually didn’t take that long to reply. He probably had his phone in his hand, judging by how fast he typed back. 

Shit.

There’s still time to delete the text.

Yeah. Delete it. I’m just gonna eat it with Remi—

“Oooooown!”

You shrieked.

The phone almost flew from your hands. You stumbled back, your voice echoed around the house, you felt about to spit your heart out.

Gojo just smiled.

You put your hand over your chest, feeling your thundering heart.

“What the fuck?!” Was all you could breathe out.

Steps upstairs.

“What happened?!” Mayu screamed from the top of the stairs.

“Just a cockroach!” Gojo replied before you could. He looked very, very entertained.

She mumbled something — too far to be listenable — but didn’t come downstairs.

He was still smiling.

You always forgot that son of a bitch could teleport and he simply never used the front doors. He came from the backyard where the house’s anchor — the old tree — remained. Sneaked behind you.

“Stop doing that!” You whined angrily. “I almost died!”

“I almost died when I read your text!” Gojo grabbed his jacket where the heart is dramatically. “I mean— a bento for me? What must’ve happened to make you grace me with such kindness?!”

You crossed your arms. Your heart still beat furiously. “I don’t know either, ‘cause you don’t deserve it. Seriously.”

Gojo pouted. He knew what you were referring yourself to. “Aw, come on! It worked, didn’t it? Otherwise Mayu-chan would be freaking out about some possessed bunny.” He looked so proud of himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Weren’t you in a meeting, though?”

“They can wait.” Gojo opened the lunchbox excitedly. His mouth formed a perfect shocked “o”. “How did you know I love gyudon?”

“Everybody loves gyudon.”

“Oooh. And what’s for dessert?” If looks could kill, he would’ve dropped dead. “Just kidding! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is reeeeally nice!” 

That giant albino man, all giddy over a lunchbox.

It didn’t look like he was lying.

You ignored how that made your heart feel.

He closed the lid again. “Unfortunately for you, I gotta go before they notice I left. Where’s Satocchi, by the way?”

You had forgotten about the plushie. Quickly, you went to retrieve it where you had left on the couch; when you entered the kitchen once again, a smug expression covered your features.

“You said I’m really bad at this, right? Well, if I was this bad, I wouldn’t have made it—“

Immediately, you interrupted yourself.

You thought Gojo would appreciate your efforts. Joke about your cockiness, even. But he yanked the plushie from your hands. 

He wasn’t smiling.

“Did you exorcize Satocchi?”

You looked at him in confused silence.

“What?”

“You exorcized him?”

Oh shit. He wasn’t pranking. Uneasiness hit you. “I… well, I didn’t know how to make it stop dancing, and I had to drop it anyway, so…”

Wait.

Wait.

He said exorcise. 

As if it wasn’t just a weird plushie. As if it was somehow— somehow—

Gojo giggled. It wasn’t his usual amused, sarcastic or joyful giggle — it was that kind of laughter that comes when your body doesn’t know what to do because you’re too nervous.

Gojo was nervous.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. “Fuck. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me.”

What?

Your stomach dropped.

“You mean that thing was alive?!” You pointed at the plushie nervously.

“What’d you think?! I said it’s a cursed corpse! It was filled with cursed energy!”

And then you were desperate.

“Oh my God. But why— why did you give it to me in the first place?! Nullifying cursed energy is ‘the’ thing I do!”

“The gloves, Mori. That’s why I gave ‘em. You were supposed to envelop your body, not the doll.”

“But I—“

You looked at the plushie in his hands. It wasn’t even that ugly, now that you paid attention… it was kind of cute… its button eyes were lifeless, its sewn little mouth that was nothing more than a black line pointing down…

And now you wanted to fucking cry.

“I killed him!” Realization hit you like a truck. You covered your mouth with both hands in pure shock. “I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to—“

Gojo looked at your watery eyes, frowning.

“Are you actually going to cry?”

Yeah. You were.

Now he was laughing.

Laughing. Cackling. Gojo bent over as if his stomach hurt. He laughed and laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You wanted to throw the nearest object on his fucking head. Unfortunately, it was a knife.

“Holy shit— you’re crying!”

“I’m not crying!” No tear had streamed down your face yet. The tears had retreated because you wanted to kill him. “So this was all a prank?!”

“No—“ Gojo heaved. “No, I’m serious, you exorcised it. This was a cursed corpse. It was alive, sort of.”

And you wanted to cry again.

“I’m sorry—“

He was cackling again.

You didn’t know if you should apologize, or try to explain yourself, or get angry and say that it was his fault because he left you alone with Satocchi and didn’t explain things that well, or cry, or smack Gojo’s head — so you did everything, going through all the stages of grief in a two minutes.

You hadn’t even realized Fushiguro had entered the kitchen. His excuse was to take a cup of water but you were sure he was curious about the noise. He eyed your expression, and Gojo’s flushed cheeks due to laughter, and then Satocchi—

“One of Principal Masamichi’s dolls?” he asked with confusion.

You’d been sad, angry, frustrated, regretful… and now you were scared. 

“T-The Principal?” The black haired boy nodded.

The man that was almost two meters tall. A pile of muscle. The constant grimace of a movie-like Yakuza leader. And he didn’t even like you that much.

You killed his doll.

Shit.

Two seconds before, you wanted to cry. Now, you wanted to flee the fucking country.

“C’mon, Momorin, it ain’t that serious…” Gojo heaved, regaining his breath and his porture. You turned around to face him with a face that was half angry and half frightened.

“How is it not serious?! He’s gonna kill me!” And you hadn’t even stopped to think of why the hell a man that old and big had a dancing doll to begin with and how funny that was.

“No, he won’t.” Gojo lifted the blindfold up his forehead absently. Seeing his eyes completely unobstructed always made you shut up for some reason. He blinked rapidly and passed his thumb down his waterline. “Shit, I even cried a little.” A last giggle. Finally, he looked at you. “Relax, okay? This thing was under my responsibility anyway.”

You put your hands on your waist awkwardly. “...But I feel bad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re cute. But you don’t need to feel that bad over this.”

Something inside you simultaneously froze and heated up at the same time.

Cute.

Fushiguro’s footsteps walked out of the kitchen, but you barely registered it.

Cute, he said. Gojo called me cute.

And he said it so naturally, too.

He didn’t look embarrassed to have said it. 

Okay.

“Now… I really gotta go–”

“Wait.” You said, lifting a finger. Gojo watched you run to the other side of the kitchen and open a cabinet. Promptly, you came back holding an black insulated bag and placed the lunchbox inside it. “I bet you don’t wanna eat it cold.”

Gojo watched you quietly.

He still hadn’t put the blindfold down.

The lip tightened smile was still there. You wanted to imagine that it was because of how bad he laughed just two minutes prior. Gojo was a smiley person anyway. 

But there was that look in his eyes, too.

The one that looked dangerously like endearment.

You felt heat creeping up your nape. It didn’t have anything to do with cursed energy. 

“What?” You asked, because what else could you ask?

He smirked a bit, making the dimple on the right side of his cheek peak. One second. Two seconds.

“Nothing.” 

At last, Gojo covered his eyes with the blindfold once again.

He took the bag with the lunchbox over the counter.

“Thank you again, Mori! Can’t wait to eat this! If it tastes bad, I’ll let you know too, by the way!”

It was so easy for him to slip back into this persona.

You snorted.

“It doesn’t taste bad. Don’t disrespect me.”

“That we’ll see.” 

Gojo started to make his way out of the kitchen. You watched as he eyed Satocchi in his hand once more – your heart twinged with remorse – and shook his head slowly.

“I’m fucked.” He mumbled under his breath in a tone that, once again, sounded way too nervous.

You didn’t see it when he teleported away, but for the first time, you felt it. The absence of that tune – that frequency that played whenever he was around.

You leaned your hip on the counter and reflected for some moments.

Gojo’s eyes on you.

There was something going on.

Something you couldn’t – or didn’t want to – name. Couldn’t quite decipher yet. Maybe you were scared to do so. 

But it was there. 

It was getting increasingly harder to ignore it.

But…

Now now.

A/N: this is like the third time our girl said "not now". how long until she's finally FORCED to address the TWO elephants in the room she's been ignoring?? - TRAINING MONTAGE!!! honestly!! i had to think real hard about the satocchi stuff. bc i thought gojo using the cursed dolls to train ppl before yuji sounded accurate and cute. BUT i remembered that i had established that MC's technique nullifies C/E upon touching them, so i was like uhhhh. this ain't gonna work. then the gloves came!! satocchi is programmed to stop moving when it feels C/E, not by having it put INTO him like what yuji did. sorta like standing near a stove. you feel the heat but isn't burned. yk??? does it make sense??? I'M TRYING TO RESPECT THE MAGIC SYSTEM!! - another pretty domestic chapter! we're slowly making our way into making this awkward bunch into a family!! how long will things remain this calm, tho?? I DON'T KNOW!! AS USUAL, comments are MUCH MUCH MUCH appreciated! reading your thoughts on the story ALWAYS make my day. i'm SO SERIOUS. even when i'm not that active, seeing that my inbox has a new comment makes my DAY! NEXT CHAPTER - the training will progress!! the elephants will take more space in the room!! See you <3

[zorostitties]

i dont even go there anymore but brother wtf is wrong with the lads community 💀

[zorostitties]

BRAZIL WON SUICIDE POSTPONED TO SUNDAY

[spicymochi]

two colorful dinos! 🌈

little critters i drew for the Cuteasaur digital charity zine!

[martyfive]

this one is for Juniper Blessing.

this isn’t about mermay, really. you can grab the free png on my patreon. print it out if you can and remember her name.

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 10

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 10k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

As funny as it sounds, the SNIPERS SHOOTING CLUB! was, in fact, like. A club.

After your third visit, you became an official member. Michio proudly gave you a round pin with the club logo on it. He even explained that there were monthly tournaments and you could participate; there was a fee, of course, and awards that ranged from a pack of beer to an all-paid dinner at a famous Korean barbecue house. You got curious, though, because Michio talked about the competition thing in the corner, while Gojo was in the bathroom.

He smiled sheepishly and explained in a quiet, hushed voice:

“Satoru always participated, you see. And he always won every tournament by a lot. So… the other club members started to get disheartened to participate.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “The tournament fees are a big part of the club’s income. I… am not very proud of saying this, but for my own sake, I had to ban Satoru from participating. Otherwise no one else would want to compete.” He got one step closer and lowered his voice. “But he doesn’t know that he’s banned, so… hum… it’d be kind of you if you kept this a secret.”

You had to laugh.

On your fourth visit, it already felt like routine.

Gojo would pop up. You’d drive to the shooting club (that was about twenty minutes away from home), practice for one hour, drive back home, Gojo would leave. He was busy; you were busy. That was the most free time both of you had anyway. 

On the evening of the fourth visit, though, Gojo decided to deviate the route a bit. He kept whining about how he had this disease called the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease and as you were a doctor it was your responsibility to take care of it and if he died of that disease it would be yoooooour fault.

So you stopped at an okonomiyaki restaurant, of course.

It wasn’t a fancy place, and it looked like it’d been here for ages, judging by the yellowed posters on the walls that looked like they were placed in the 2000’s and the amount of older customers. That’s how you know food’s good. The smells immediately made your belly rumble as if you had contracted the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease as well. Gojo was giggly, and excited, and kept wiggling from side to side like a fucking kid, and he honest to God would not shut up. He had let go of the jacket, exposing the (already usual) light blue dress shirt underneath. It was a bit of a funny contrast to see him dressed like a businessman on lunch break while acting like a boy.

Cute is what your mind kept repeating like a mantra, even though you wanted to ignore it.

Cute cute cute cute cute.

The waitress thought he was cute, too.

Obviously. How couldn’t she, when his smiles were so effortless and pretty, when his dimples said hi whenever he smiled, when happiness and excitement looked so good on him? How could she not blush, stutter and unconsciously put a strand of hair behind her ear?

You understood her. Truly, you did.

She was pretty and young, too.

Hm.

Food arrived. Gojo ate his first okonomiyaki, then two, then three. He kept hmmmm-ing at every bite. It was nice, you thought, to be around him in times like these; to talk about irrelevant things, like the film he watched last night (Sharknado 3, he said, calling it an “underrated masterpiece”), or about the new nurse you kinda had a feud with (“I know she doesn’t like me, I just can’t prove it yet”), to how the two of you were obsessed with Need For Speed Underground II when you were younger.

It felt so nice. Just two normal friends having lunch together. Talking about useless things, common interests, laughing at fun stuff.

Normal.

You had a 9mm inside your purse, though.

There was nothing normal about that.

The latent fear within yourself wasn’t normal, either. Your mind knew you were safe with Gojo; your body didn’t. It felt anxious in ways you couldn’t control. It kept getting startled at every movement the other customers did, even if they were mostly elders. 

This fear kept reminding you that your life — your existence — wasn’t normal.

So unfortunately, you had to talk about the abnormal things with the abnormal guy, although you’d rather not bring the mood down.

You waited until dessert arrived, at least.

Gojo asked for pudding (the large one, supposed to serve two people, but he wanted it all to himself). You settled for the small serving. How Gojo still had space in his stomach for more food was a mystery. His hmmmmmm’s!! became more aggressive. He really really liked sweets, huh?

You took two bites and cleared your throat.

His eyes immediately shot up to your face. You could see them over the glasses.

He already knew what that meant.

“So.” You began. You massaged the smooth surface of the pudding with the back of the spoon to busy your nervous hands. “The training’s been nice. I think I’m pretty good at it already.”

“Slow down, sweetheart.” His mouth was full, making him look like a squirrel. “You just started training with moving targets.”

“Yeah— but I’m pretty good at shooting, right?”

“Uh-huh. If your opponent stands still waiting to be shot, sure.”

The angry glare you sent him made him giggle. Little shit.

“Okay! I know I need to train more.” You pouted. The sane part of you realized that was ridiculous, so you ate a bit more pudding to mask that. Pouting? I’m someone that pouts now? I’m spending too much time with him. “But that’s not where I’m trying to get.”

“So where are you trying to get to?”

“I’ll get there if you let me talk.” Another pissed glare. Another amused giggle from him. “What about. You know. My technique?”

He took another spoonful. Albino squirrel. “What about it?”

“I still don’t know what to do with it at all.” You started to shake your leg nervously under the table. Shit, that’s embarrassing. “I thought… well… I thought—“

“You thought the Great Teacher Gojo Satoru would be training you already?”

Ugh.

You hated his smug expression. You hated how that’d just boost his already stratospheric ego.

But it was true.

Being completely honest, you thought after the “test” on the haunted house, he had made up his mind on teaching you. You thought it was already settled, like an unspoken deal. However… it’d already been almost a month and Gojo never even touched the subject.

You kind of sunk on the seat, resting your cheek on your palm, eyes glued on the pudding.

“…I mean.” You shrugged.

You braced yourself to what would follow.

“Oooow!” Sarcastic little shit. His eyes gleamed. He held his face with both hands, forcing a cute expression that you wanted to punch. “No need to act shy, Momorin! Everybody wants the honor to be taught by the strongest sorcerer alive! It’d be weird if you weren’t squirming with excitement, in fact!”

“I’m not squirming.” You kicked his shin under the table. He giggled viciously. “Be serious for a moment!”

“I aaaam being serious.” One more spoonful of pudding. He pointed at you with the spoon lazily afterwards. “I ain’t forget about that, sweetheart. But you’re in a complicated position, remember? You shouldn’t be receiving training. I have to be careful about how I’ll do it.” Okay. Fair. He had a point. “Also – I think you have more important things to deal with before we jump to the real stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Your anxiety.”

You froze.

His lazy smile was still there. His intelligent blue eyes analyzing you; the glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose slightly. You could kinda see them.

That felt like he had thrown a bucket of ice over your head.

There it was again— this thing about Gojo that made it so strange, yet instigating to be around him. Gojo was acting like a giant fool until that moment. Like a manchild. Babbling, giggling, moving like a hyperactive kid, humming loud as hell because he loooooved pudding and he was soooo obsessed with Tekken 5 back then and how he won a bunch of tournaments at an arcade when he was a kid because he’s soooo awesome at everything he does.

But now he was staring at you — and you knew he was seeing you, seeing inside of you, seeing through you. The stuff you so carefully were trying to hide. The quick glances around, how you tried to busy your hands so no one would notice your fingertips shaking a bit, how you smoked more cigarettes than usual to try to calm your system down. The things you didn’t open up to anyone, because that was unlike you. You were terrified of being a burden, of bringing anyone too much trouble — especially to Gojo, because you knew how much he was already doing for you. You didn’t want to be a reason for worry.

Gojo was seeing it nevertheless.

It wasn’t just about his supernatural blue eyes. It was about how much attention he was paying to everything around him; to you, even though he was great at hiding it behind a mask of nonchalance and playfulness.

It’d be on brand for you to try to brush it off. To say something snarky and witty, try to deviate his attention elsewhere. But there was no point in lying, was there? You knew he would see the truth in you anyways. 

So you just avoided his gaze again, feeling your shoulders shrink unintentionally.

Your brain realized that you were pouting again a second too late.

“Ooooow!” Shut up!! Shut up!! “You’re acting way too cute today, Momorin!”

“Don’t embarrass me even more!” you whined, biting one more angry spoonful of pudding. Your neck, nape and face felt hot. Gojo giggled again.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed of. It’s normal to be anxious when you’re being hunted. I mean— it’s normal to normal people, heh, ‘cause I—“ he straightened his back like a proud peacock and smirked. “—I ain’t ever felt anxious over this type of thing.”

“Wow. How inspiring.” The pudding tasted sour in your tongue. Wasn’t he the one who loved to brag all the time about being the strongest or whatever the fuck? You doubted he could understand you. “Who would be dumb enough to try to hunt the strongest guy around?”

“A whole lotta people since I came out of my mother’s womb.”

That made you pause.

Gojo ate more pudding. He stated that so quickly. So naturally. 

“You serious?”

“Yep!” He swallowed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this pretty head of mine on a silver platter?”

He was playful as usual. But the more you thought about it… your frown deepened.

“People were hunting you when you were a child?”

Gojo nodded.

Your stomach dropped.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment. You can’t obtain a technique… you have to be born with it. So since he was a toddler… since he was a baby…?

“Again— I knooow you love talking about me, because I’m such an interesting and amusing person,” you rolled your eyes. “but right now you’re the topic! We’re talking about your little problem.”

At that moment, though, you in fact wanted to talk about him. That piece of information was shocking. For the first time, you realized that, at the same time Gojo talked about himself all the time, he barely talked about himself; about what actually mattered. The silly stuff? He’d talk about it for hours. What he ate, what movies he watched, a joke he learned, this especially ugly person he saw on the subway or the stinky dog he petted on the street. He texted the whole day, sent photos in real time. Whenever you took your phone from your locker in the dressing room, it’d be packed with notifications from him.

But what about his job? What he did on his work trips? His classes, his students? His parents, friends, family? His past?

Gojo didn’t talk about any of that. Ever.

You had to learn through Ijichi that he was a member of an important jujutsu clan, after all, because he didn’t bother telling you. Gojo wasn’t just a sorcerer-teacher-whatever the way you thought — the way he didn’t try to make you think otherwise.

This man was an important part of your everyday life. At the moment, he had become your closest friend, simply because you couldn’t talk about your real problems with any of your friends anymore, not even with Mayu. And yet — you barely knew him.

This had to change.

But not now, clearly, as Gojo was so quick to change topics as soon as you got even close to talking about his childhood.

You rested your chin on your palm. “What do you want me to do? Take anxiolytics?" 

“Pfft. No.” He shook his head. Gojo’s pudding was almost over. He scooped a bunch of syrup from the plate and ate it heartily. “I want you to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“Well. I am anxious because I’m paying too much attention to everything.” Your leg started to shake as if to make a point. “I can’t relax.”

“No, you ain’t paying attention. You’re looking from side to side like a scared mouse.” He licked the spoon. Distracting. This time, his eyes were on you, not on the plate. “You’re not locking your attention on what actually matters.”

Gojo scooped more syrup from the plate. Instead of defending yourself like you’d usually do, you decided to listen.

“For example…” He licked the spoon again. His eyes were back on the plate. “That dude with the red jacket sitting near the front doors you’ve been eyeing the whole time.”

You froze.

Gojo wasn’t even looking at him. In fact, you didn’t even remember catching him looking that way.

You gulped.

“I— I thought I was being discreet,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. Gojo chuckled in response.

“Oh, you were. He isn’t.” It was true. The man, looking to be around his fifties, stole quick glances at your table all the time, which made you get more and more anxious. “And that’s the thing, see? He’s being obvious. But that uncle isn’t targeting you, he’s just being a man.”

You felt your nape getting hot with his implication. 

“And then there’s that other woman sitting behind us.” Once again, Gojo didn’t look back while he talked, more focused on taking every lasting drop of caramel syrup from his plate, but you felt even more embarrassed; you were focusing on her as well. She looked across the table to where you were all the time, zapping her eyes from her phone to your location constantly and making you nervous. “Well… she’s just being a woman.”

He wiggled his eyebrows smugly. You scrunched your nose in a grimace. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“What? I’m hot! It can’t be helped! Women will gawk at me, either you like it or not. But don’t worry, darling, I only have eyes for you.” He spoke that intentionally louder, intentionally dramatic, loud enough so that the woman behind you and the dude in red could hear, simultaneously making them avoid their gazes (they were paying attention) and you giggle in a mix of embarrassment and endearment.

Gojo finally looked up at you again, leaning a bit closer in your direction.

“What I mean with all this, Mori, is that when someone actually pops up targeting you – because that will happen sooner or later –, it’s not gonna be obvious like that.” His voice dropped. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose; you could see them. He still smiled a little bit, but it was different: mysterious. You knew what that tone, that expression meant. Gojo wasn’t playing. He meant every word. It was one of those moments when he looked wise in a way that seemed unfitting to someone his age. It almost looked like authority, in a way.

That was a man that knew what the fuck he was talking about.

He had your full attention.

“When a skilled curse user cross your path… it ain’t gonna be like in the movies. Some spy wearing a trench coat, dark shades and a fedora hat.” You giggled briefly at the idea. He couldn’t help himself but joking a little, even when he was being serious. “They’ll be silent. They will know how to creep around you without being noticed. It ain’t gonna be sudden, either. Maybe they’ll be creeping for days… weeks… making you feel used to their presence. Waiting ‘til you have your guard down.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Uhm… none of the people that came after me ‘til now were that silent.” Not at all. Both attempted kidnappings happened in broad daylight, with a bunch of possible witnesses and literal media coverage.

“That’s why I said skilled curse users.” His voice dropped even lower. He leaned a bit closer. “Truth is… you might not even notice what’s happening until it’s too late.”

His words sunk in. The air around you felt heavier, more difficult to breathe.

“What should I do?” You asked.

Gojo scooped a little bit of caramel that still remained on the plate. “If you ain’t gonna see them,” He licked the spoon. Distractiiiing. He pointed at you with the now clean spoon. “You gotta sense them.”

“How?”

“People like us accumulate cursed energy, some much more than others. Regardless of how vast one’s energy reserves are, it is always possible to feel that emanating from them in a way a normal person won’t. That’s how you will recognize a threat. That’s how you’ll pinpoint a curse user in the middle of a packed crowd.”

You nodded slowly and crossed your arms. “How can I do that?”

Gojo pouted, poking the back of the spoon on his lips absently. “It’s not that hard. It should feel pretty natural, to be honest. But I guess it won’t feel that way for you, since you awakened your technique much later in life.” He shrugged. “I guess my presence doesn’t make it any easier for you, either. I might be stunting your senses.”

For a second, you thought that he was boasting his own ego again, but it didn’t sound like it.

“In what way?”

Gojo smirked and leaned his head to the side.

“Let’s just say I am too much.”

You pretended to not understand the double meaning there.

You actively decided to ignore it for your own sanity, in fact.

“I don’t get it.” You stated. 

Gojo hummed and straightened his back, leaning on the chair once more. He let go of the spoon and crossed his arms.

“Hmm… lemme try something.”

You frowned a bit. “You’re not gonna make me fight a curse out of nowhere, right? ‘Cause I never trust you when you come with this ‘lemme try something’ talk–”

You froze.

The words you were about to say derailed in your throat. Forgotten. Your eyes widened.

You looked around.

It was silent. Nothing had changed.

But, at the same time–

“So?” Gojo eyed you with much interest. 

You blinked several times. 

“I… I can’t…”

He smiled. Gojo already knew what you meant.

Thankfully so, because you couldn’t even begin to explain what you were feeling.

Or rather not feeling. 

That was precisely it: the absence of feeling. The lack of something that was there all along; like someone had pulled a warm blanket from over your body out of nowhere, exposing you to the cold. Like a little, constant note that had been playing in your ears for so long that you hadn’t even noticed it was there, until someone finally turned the radio off.

It was silent.

For the first time in longer than you could even remember, it was silent.

“What did you do?” You finally asked.

“Masked my own cursed energy. Yeah, I was right. I was really stunting your senses. My bad.” Gojo shrugged once again. “How do you feel?”

You gulped. “It’s… quiet.”

He sent you a puzzled look. “That’s an interesting way to put it.” He remarked. “This is how a ‘normal’ environment is supposed to feel. No cursed energy. If there is something, however…”

Gradually.

The tune came back. Low, very low, until its volume was back to what you were used to. The warmth; the blanket being carefully put over your body again. It was back. Except this time, after experiencing its absence, you noticed its presence.

It felt gentle, in a way.

“...it should feel like this,” Gojo continued. “Though weaker. You have to learn how to refine your perception. Very skilled sorcerers know how to mask their cursed energy just like I did. You gotta look for that spark in the darkness; that little light, the perception that something is off. That something that shouldn’t be there is.”

You nodded slowly.

That was mesmerizing.

You had no other way to put it.

Mesmerizing.

It was like you had awakened some sort of sixth sense. Something extraordinary. And yeah — maybe you shouldn’t be that shocked; you had enough time to let everything regarding jujutsu sink in. The fact that this hidden society existed, that your hallucinations were real, that a person could possess super human powers. But quite honestly, until that moment, you still hadn’t felt different. Yes, you exorcized a curse willingly at the haunted house; but even then, it didn’t feel that you were doing much. You hadn’t felt extraordinary.

At that moment, as you finally sensed Gojo’s cursed energy — or the lack of it —, something clicked inside your head.

You weren’t a normal person thrown into a foreign world. You were part of it. This world just felt foreign because you had entered it later in life. 

For the first time, you didn’t just come to terms that you had to learn how to use your technique; you felt… excited about it.

And maybe Gojo noticed that, too, given the little smile on his lips. It wasn’t his usual flippant smirk. You avoided his gaze, focusing on what little remained of your pudding. You didn’t want to deal with the expression that looked dangerously like endearment. You didn’t want to acknowledge how that made you feel.

Not at that moment.

In the end, the only thing that came from your mouth was a frustrated groan when Gojo lifted his hand out of nowhere and said:

“Waitress! Can you bring me one more pudding?”

Goddamnit.

You had imagined how the training would go.

Granted, the fault was on your fertile imagination. I mean, what else comes to mind when someone says training? To yours, the view of Goku and Gohan exchanging blows in the Time Room came as clear as day. Yoda hanging from Luke’s back on a swamp planet. You even imagined Gojo going jacket on! Jacket off! Pick up the jacket!! 

In other words, you thought it’d be cool.

Him sitting on the sofa holding a bunny plushie didn’t look cool.

You were rotting in bed on your day off, mindlessly scrolling in your phone, when a text of his popped up: super incredible sensational jujutsu training with great teacher Gojo Satoru begins TODAY!!!! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ and that was more than enough to make you jump off the bed and take the pajamas off. You panicked for two seconds, thinking, should I put on gymwear?, but you imagined he would’ve told you so if it was needed, so you settled for something comfortable and light — a simple white t-shirt and black jogger pants — before leaving your room.

You didn’t expect he’d already be sitting there in the living room.

Gojo wore his usual uniform. Today, instead of the bandages covering his eyes, the black blindfold. It didn’t look like he was ready to get up, though, judging by the way he was so relaxed, sitting with his legs spread open like that.

You stood at the entrance and looked at him awkwardly.

He probably had been sitting there for a while. He probably heard you jumping off the bed and rushing to get changed. 

That was a bit embarrassing.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly.

Gojo smiled. “You look excited!”

Ugh.

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

His smile widened. Dimples. “That’s the spirit!”

You walked into the living room tentatively. “So… where is this training going to happen?”

“Right here!”

You stopped on your tracks, frowning.

“...Here?”

“Yep!”

“But Mayu’s home.” It was Sunday, after all.

“Won’t be a problem!”

That was a bit disappointing. Half of your excitement vanished.

“Here’s your training buddy, by the way!”

And then he lifted the plushie, holding it with both hands as if he was handing you a cat.

The thing was… creepy.

It was a floppy white bunny. Yeah, it sounds cute, but this plushie was all battered up as if an angry kid used it to unleash all of their anger on it, dragging it by the leg and beating it on the walls repeatedly. The legs, arms and ears were all comically long. It had two buttons as eyes, the left one being bigger than the other, in purple and yellow.

Gojo peeked his head from behind the plushie, still smiling.

“I picked him so you can think of me while you train!” You just kept looking at him in silent confusion. Gojo seemed disappointed that you didn’t get what he meant. “Uh, white bunny? Cinnamorroll? Duh-huh?”

“Oh.” Jesus. You had forgotten about the merch you bought him. You quirked one eyebrow. “Cinnamorroll is a dog, though.”

The smile vanished from his lips.

He dropped his arms down his lap again, so it looked like the plushie was sitting there, its head flopped down in disappointment. You could see the outline of his furrowed brows under the blindfold. “A dog?”

“Yeah.” 

Gojo thought about it for two seconds. “That’s awful character design.”

“Uh-huh.” You approached him, standing near the couch, and motioned to touch the plushie. “So… what am I going to do with it–?”

Gojo shifted, yanking the plushie away from your reach. “Nuh-huh! Put the gloves on first!”

“Gloves–?” He pointed at it with his chin.

You turned around to see a pair of thick grey gloves over the coffee table. Like, really thick gardening gloves. These too looked old, clearly bigger than your hand size. 

Again – weird.

But you decided not to question it. You put the gloves on anyway. Gojo moved to the side, giving you space to sit down, and so you did. 

“Now, as I was saying, Satocchi will be your training buddy from now on.” 

“Excuse me– Satocchi?”

“Yup.” He grinned cheekily. “I mean, that’s practically my twin!”

You rolled your eyes. He giggled. A part of you was giggling, too, but fuck that part. Gojo at last handed you the plushie, which you held awkwardly in those big, uncomfortable gloves.

“Will there be any further explanation or I’ll have to figure out what to do–?”

The bunny jumped.

It fucking jumped.

You jumped, too, shrieking, shocking your back against the couch, pulling your legs off the ground too and gluing them to your chest because what the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! The thing moved?! It’s moving?! It’s– it’s–

Breakdancing?!

You watched, eyes widened, heart racing, as the bunny was literally, without any exaggeration, b-boying over the coffee table, moving like a human being without emitting a sound or music.

Gojo cackled.

He threw his head back, laughing at the top of his lungs. You just kept watching the creature without batting an eye.

You heard rushed steps up there.

“What happened?!” Mayu asked from the top of the stairs. You panicked. What if she comes down and sees this?!

“Nothing!” You screamed back. “A– A cockroach!”

“A cursed corpse!” Gojo screamed at the same time as you. You aggressively threw a cushion on his face, to which he deflected with ease and laughed harder.

“A cockroach!” You screamed louder this time. “Just a cockroach!”

“Ew!” You heard Mayu saying up there… and her steps back to her room.

Thank God.

Your head whipped in Gojo’s direction again. “Make it stop!” You hissed.

“No, you have to make it stop.” He was still laughing.

“How the fuck–?” You looked at it again. The plushie was moonwalking. You shivered. 

Finally, Gojo moved.

He leaned closer to the table. Took the plushie by the ears; the moment his hand touched it, the thing stopped moving. Flopped, lifeless once again.

He turned to you. The laughter had finally died down, but he still held a very entertained smile there.

“Satocchi right here is programmed to stop moving when it feels cursed energy. If you don’t put that to work, it’ll dance.”

Oh.

You eyed him, and the plushie, and him.

You didn’t want to touch that thing. Not at all.

“I don’t know how to do that.” You gulped.

“You do! You just don’t know that you do. But it’s intuitive. It ain’t something complicated to do, but like I said before, you’re unaware of it because your technique awakened late.” Slowly you sat like a normal person again because Gojo was going into his wise mode. Oh, so he’s not playing. This is serious. “Tell me; the moments you used your cursed energy, even if unconsciously, how did you feel?”

You thought about it.

When you were kidnapped, wrapped in paper tags (seals) and managed to free yourself with black “flames”; when you “fought” against the frog-like curse at the haunted house; or even that little curse you accidentally stepped on. The thing you felt during all of those situations was…

“Anger.” You stated. “I was angry… and it happened.” 

Gojo nodded. “And how did you feel afterwards?”

You thought about it again. “…Very tired. Like… my legs.” You gesticulated awkwardly towards them. “Feel heavy as if I’d run a marathon.”

Gojo nodded again. “That’s because you’ve just been bursting cursed energy without any control over it. And that sucks, ‘cause you’re burning your supply all at once; it’s impractical, because you’ll see yourself without cursed energy to use, and it takes a tool on your body.” He pointed at you. “Your cursed energy control is bad. Like, bad in ways that baffle me. Again— I think it’s because your technique awakened very late. Right now, you’re like Ariel when she gained legs, you know? Stumbling around and stuff.” 

You nodded slowly. It hadn’t occurred to you that anything he was saying mattered. So… cursed energy was like gas in the tank and you had to know how to spend it wisely. According to what he said in the restaurant, some people could have a bigger tank than others. Okay. All of that was understandable.

“It means that putting out cursed energy is something as natural as walking?” 

“Yes.” Gojo held the plushie with both hands again. “What I want you to do… is envelop your own body with a very thin layer of cursed energy, enough to make Satocchi sense it, and keep it intact, until you can make it permanent with no effort.”

You nodded again. Cursed energy was like walking… and that plushie was like a walker, because you had never “walked” before. 

He handed you the plushie.

You took it with both hands.

It immediately started dancing. Now that your grip was firm and you were aware that it would move, though, you didn’t let it leap away. The bunny kept wriggling from side to side, legs and arms twitching around (was it dancing to Thriller?!), and it felt the same as trying to hold a hyperactive kitten that clearly didn’t want to be held.

“This is–” you groaned. “–distracting!”

“C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“I don’t–” it almost jumped away. “–I don’t know how!”

“Pull the energy without relying on any emotions.” He was using that whiny tone that was really annoying. “Remember, using cursed energy is like using your legs. It ain’t that hard.”

You looked down at the plushie angrily while it swayed from side to side once more. 

Not relying on emotions.

How did it feel that time in the meat locker with the kidnappers?

You were so angry. You were begging your body to do something. Then… you felt heat in your chest, so bad that you thought you were suffering from cardiac arrest. It had an actual effect on your body, differently from when you stepped on the rat at the hospital or even when you exorcised the frog-like curse.

It wasn’t just about emotion. You had pulled a reaction out of yourself, even if unintentionally.

You frowned in concentration.

Try to tap that place again.

My chest.

The heat.

You felt it.

It wasn’t nearly as strong as that time… but it was there nevertheless. That thing you couldn’t name, that was part of you, yet you had never noticed before. 

“Slow,” Gojo said in somewhat of a warning tone. “Go slowly.”

Instinctively, your fingers curled around the plushie with the effort. Less heat. You toned it down. It’s still here, you noticed. Okay. Now pull it. Slowly like he said.

It spread from that tiny point in your chest until you felt it covering all of your ribcage, down to your stomach, up to your shoulders.

“Am I doing the thing?” You asked in a voice strained by effort.

“Yeah, you’re doing the thing.”

Almost at the same time, Satocchi interrupted its impeccable Thriller performance and flopped motionless like a regular plushie doll.

“Ooooh,” you breathed out in a mix of relief and excitement. “It’s–”

Satocchi twitched.

You shut up and focused on pulling the thing again.

Gojo giggled.

“Wow, you’re so bad at this, it almost pisses me off.”

“Shut up–” you felt the heat get stronger without meaning to.

“Uh-uh! Tone it down! Keep the even flow even if you’re angry!” 

Okay. Less heat. 

The plushie stopped moving.

You looked at him angrily.

“It’s my first try, okay?! You’re not being very supportive!”

“Nah, I’m making you mad on purpose so you can train your cursed energy flow while feeling different emotions.” He grinned cockily. “I’m so smart!”

You rolled your eyes. Satocchi twitched again. You focused on it.

“How long do I have to do this?” You asked after a while. “I don’t want Mayu to see it.”

Gojo hummed. You lifted your eyes to him again; he was eyeing his phone, typing something with one hand, while the other arm went to rest on the couch’s backrest comfortably. 

“Now that you mentioned it, how long do you plan on hiding everything from her?” His voice was quieter, a new hint of seriousness and interest there. “‘Cause, you know, you can’t do that forever.”

You immediately grimaced.

“...Do I even have to?” This time, you were the one whining quietly like a kid. Your leg started to shake on instinct. Gojo huffed.

“I mean.” Even though he wore the blindfold, you knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot. Maybe you were an idiot. It was a bit offensive to be considered an idiot by the idiot guy. “Your case won’t get solved that quick, if you hadn’t already noticed. I might even say that things will get more complicated as we progress. It’ll get harder and harder to keep everything from her.”

“It’s not–” Satocchi twitched. You focused on it. It stopped moving. “–that easy.”

“Why not?” You could see the outline of his eyebrow quirking under the blindfold. Each word of his made you more uncomfortable. “Plenty of non-sorcerers know about jujutsu. Government people, cops, sorcerers’ relatives…”

“It’s ‘cause–” The bunny twitched again. You groaned, trying to focus on your cursed energy flow.

It’s because Mayu has already been through enough.

Mayu didn’t have a mother she remembered well. She lost her dad when she was eleven. You brought her back to Japan, a country she was not born in, and even though she luckily adjusted fast and well, you knew it wasn’t an easy change. Mayu dealt with feelings and absences you knew you’d never be able to fulfill, even if you did your best.

You just wanted to offer some stability in her life. Some comfort. Some normalcy.

You never planned to have this strange power awaken out of the blue, to be targeted, to have to learn how to defend yourself, to be taken out of your homes. You hated that Mayu couldn’t go wherever she wanted anymore. The thought that she was in danger because of you was maddening. You didn’t want Mayu to be even more scared or worried; she did not need this heavy of a weight over her shoulders. 

At least, not yet.

“You might think it’s not that deep, but it’s because you were born in this world, okay?” You stated somewhat angrily whilst trying to keep Satocchi immovable. “Neither me or her were. Mayu’s normal. You can’t just come to a normal person and say, look, there are dangerous spiritual creatures lurking around. Also I have supernatural powers and someone wants to get me for whatever reason.”

Gojo snorted again. “It’s what you were told. It’s what everyone who’s involved with jujutsu is told. You get used to it eventually.”

“It’s not–” Even flow even flow even flow. Satocchi stopped moving again. “Look, it’s not like I’ll never tell her. I know I can’t hide things forever. It’s just–” You gulped. “Not now.”

Gojo eyed you in silence for some seconds, expression unreadable. He probably still thought you were an idiot.

“Okay.” He finally said, shrugging. “Well. But if you don’t want her to find out about anything now, you better work on your training very hard.”

You frowned. “What do you mean…?”

Almost as if being summoned, you heard steps up there.

Your back stiffened.

Faster than you could even look back, Mayu jumped over the couch and plopped down between you two.

“So, who’s making the popcorn?” She asked excitedly.

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

Mayu turned to you with confusion. “Ain’t we gonna watch a movie?” She waved her phone lightly. “Blindfold-san said in the groupchat.”

What?!

“Yes!” Gojo exclaimed with excitement. “I just found out that Mayu-chan never watched Gladiator! Like, what have you been teaching this kid, Momorin?! This is unacceptable!”

He stood up in a jump. You hadn’t noticed the DVD case over the coffee table. Mayu sat more comfortably while he turned the TV on.

She eyed your gloves with awkwardness.

“Why the hell are you wearing these?”

Your back was stiff, your arms were stiff, your legs were stiff– you felt the plushie twitching– shit shit shit shit shit–

Even flow! Even flow! Even flow!!

“Gardening.” You said between gritted teeth. “I was gardening.”

She still eyed you like you were a weirdo. “...Okay.”

The Universal Studios logo filled the screen. Gojo ran back to sit on the couch. 

He’s not doing this to me.

He’s not fucking doing this to me.

You couldn’t move. Panic filled your system. Mayu was right there. If the plushie moved a centimeter– if your flow weakened just a bit– there’s no way she wouldn’t see it. 

“And this plushie?”

You froze even more than what you were already frozen.

“It’s a gift from me!” Gojo had the decency to at least intervene this time.

She scrunched her nose. “It’s so fugly.”

“Don’t talk about Satocchi like that.” Gojo pouted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“The movie.” You groaned in a sound similar to the cry of a wild animal that was caught in a trap. “Pay attention to the– movie.”

She paid attention to the goddamn movie.

Even flow even flow even flow even flow–

Four minutes into the film, Gojo whined very dramatically. Your head whipped in his direction.

“Waaah… something urgent popped up outta nowhere! I gotta go solve it!”

You son of a fucking bitch–

“Do you want to pause the movie?” Mayu asked.

“No, it’s fine. Finish watching it!”

He got up from the couch.

So he was just going to walk out like that?! Leave you with the fucking plushie that moves?! After what you just told him about not letting Mayu know?!

What the fuck?!

He walked out of the living room. You looked at him from over your shoulder, sending a last pleading, desperate gaze that said please help me!!

Gojo waved a very sarcastic goodbye, opening a disgusting smirk in an expression that said No!!

And he left.

Just like that.

Shit.

Fuck.

Satocchi twitched.

You changed positions on the couch to try to disguise it. Thankfully, Mayu’s eyes were glued on the screen.

Okay.

I can do this.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were panicked. You were pissed. Your feet were cold. Your back hurt. Keep pulling it. Even flow. Even flow. It shouldn't be that hard. It’s like walking. It’s like using your legs. Pulling cursed energy from within you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping this constant flow definitely was. Satocchi’s shoulder moved. You groaned, tried to pretend that it was because of that scene when Maximus finds his dead wife and son. Mayu was locked in the movie. Oh my God. Okay. We’re making progress. Even flow. Even flow. ‘I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the armies of the North, General of the Felix legions–’ SHUT THE FUCK UUUUP. Shut up!! You couldn’t focus. This scene is so fucking cool, a part of you thought, the soundtrack is amazing, while the other part kept yelling shut the fuck uuup!!

Even flow. Even flow. 

Mayu wasn’t even blinking. You weren’t, either, but because of your inner terror. God– the music in this movie really is phenomenal. It always made you want to cry. Shit. Maximus walking on the fields, on the verge of death, seeing his wife and son in the distance. Shit. Shit. Your eyes were watery. Mayu’s were, too. ‘You’re home,’ Lucilla said, while he closed his eyes for the last time. The music got louder. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wanted to cry. Mayu, too. The actress’ outfit is gorgeous, you thought. Those earrings… wow. Wait– the pillars in the colosseum look like dildos. Now you wanted to cry and to laugh.

The movie was over.

Mayu sniffed.

“That was so good!” She stated, trying to pretend that she wasn’t crying a little. “What the hell? I didn’t know it was this good!”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Ugh.” Mayu got up. “I gotta pee.”

She left the room.

Credits were rolling.

You were in the same position for two hours. Your knees were stuck.

But the plushie didn’t dance.

You were angry, panicked, emotional for a little while, and even wanted to laugh. But the plushie didn’t dance.

I did it! I mean, it twitched a bit, but that doesn’t count, right?

You didn’t want to do it anymore.

You couldn’t count on Gojo to come help you; but you couldn’t drop Satocchi, either, because it would start breakdancing immediately.

Hmmmm.

An ideia popped up.

You looked down. The heat in your chest… you pulled it. From your chest, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your hands. More energy, more heat. You upped the output. It was tricky, and tiring, and maybe sloppy, but after some effort, your cursed energy enveloped the plushie; like before, it had an eerie black hue that resembled fire. You retracted the energy quickly, afraid that it’d make you exhausted like before.

Tentatively, you let go of the doll.

It rested immovable on the couch.

I did it again!

At last, you got up from the couch.

Your first instinct was to grab your phone and text Gojo how much of a son of a bitch he was. 

But you thought about it.

He said you should work on your cursed energy control regardless of how you felt. And… it worked. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked so well if you weren’t under such pressure.

He was an asshole, but an asshole with good methods.

Ugh.

It was getting quite late. It’d been a while since you cooked for the kids.

After smoking a cig, you headed to the kitchen.

Cooking was a nice activity simply because you could turn your mind off, just focusing on the tasks you had to perform. Wash hands. Wash rice. Put rice in the cooker. Take steak, onion, garlic. Take cutting board. Take knife. It was easy. You usually didn’t allow your mind to wander to unwanted places while you cooked.

You heard the front door opening. After a while, Fushiguro entered the kitchen.

He wore the usual dark uniform. The boy seemed a bit tired, given the circles under his eyes and hunched back.

He looked surprised to find you there.

“Welcome home,” you said absent mindedly. Fushiguro replied with a quiet hi.

You heard him open the fridge behind you. You just kept cutting the meat in thin slices.

“Were you on a mission?” You asked, once again, absent mindedly. 

“Training.” His tone was still quiet.

“Hm.” Some seconds of silence. “You must be hungry, then.”

Fushiguro didn’t answer.

You heard the sound of water being poured in a cup. He drank it there, in the kitchen, behind you. After a while, he left.

Two minutes later, he came back.

You were busy chopping onions. Once more, you noticed him opening the fridge… then a cabinet. He was just… there.

Fushiguro so obviously wanted to say something.

He was orbiting around you, as if gathering courage.

Saying anything would embarrass him. So you just went on with your task, pretending to not notice.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Fushiguro stepped closer.

It seemed that he was ready to say it–

Mayu stormed into the kitchen.

She bumped her hip on yours, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ooooh. What are you cooking?”

“Gyudon.” 

Mayu let another excited ooooooh. “D’you want help?”

She had a really nice habit of offering help in the kitchen (though she hated doing the dishes. Mayu didn’t complain about doing it since you moved here, however. Being in someone else’s house put her in place. Or your constant scoldings, whatever). You thought for two seconds. 

“I think I’m gonna prepare some cabbage, too. Can you cut it for me?”

“Okaaay.” Mayu walked towards the fridge.

Fushiguro was on the way.

They sent each other death stares in silence. 

He stepped aside to let her pass. Fushiguro messed his own hair; after sending you a last weird glance — he didn’t expect you’d be watching, it seemed, by the way his ears flushed — he, at last, left the kitchen with a grumpy pout.

Oh.

You wanted to know what he was going to say.

Mayu took a second cutting board and positioned herself by your side. The kitchen island was so big that the two of you could cook side by side without bumping on each other. So different from your tiny, egg sized kitchen. Whenever one of you decided to cook in your apartment, the other had to step away, otherwise you’d freaking argue.

It was silent for a few seconds. Only the quiet crunch of knives slicing vegetables against a cutting board.

“You should try being nicer with Fushiguro,” you said quietly. Mayu groaned.

“Why don’t you tell him to be nicer with me?” Her voice was already venomous. Your first instinct was to knock her head with the knife handle. Calm down. Be adult.

“Because we’re intimate. I don’t have that freedom to talk about these things with him.” A few seconds of crunch crunch and thud thud. “Also. Because we’re in his house, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, come on. He has the right to be an asshole with me just because I’m in his house? I didn’t come here ‘cause I wanted to.” You knew Mayu wasn’t directing those words to you, but that felt like a punch in the gut nevertheless. You played it off cool, though. “What is this? A dictatorship? I’m not gonna be quiet if someone’s being mean to me, it doesn’t matter who it is or where I am.”

Okay.

She had a very fair point.

You couldn’t even argue with her on this matter. You taught her to be like that.

Crunch crunch. Thud thud. Your eyes were burning a little because of the onion. You started to peel garlic.

“Okay. But I’m not saying you should try being his friend. Just be nicer for the sake of coexistence.” The garlic you unpeeled was moldy. You grimaced and threw it in the trash before taking a new one. “Sometimes it’s socially acceptable for you to be kinda fake. Do you think I like everyone I work with? Do you think I love every patient that comes to me? Of course not.” Crunch crunch. Thud thud. You frowned. “Like… like Umi.”

Your face twisted in a disgusted grimace as if you’d slurped a lemon at the mere mention of her name. Mayu giggled.

“The nurse?”

“Yeah.” The way you unpeeled the garlic became more aggressive. “Do you think I like her annoying voice or how freakin’ inconvenient she is? Or the way she barges into conversations without being called? Or— or the way she doesn’t know how to pluck her eyebrows? God, I fucking hate her eyebrows.” Mayu giggled again. “I don’t. But when she says good morning, I say good morning. When she says the weather’s nice today, I say yeah and go on about my day. Got it?” Another garlic. “I’m not gonna be her friend, but I’m not gonna treat her like shit, because I want peace. I spend most of my time in that hospital, what would my life become if I argued with everyone I dislike?”

Mayu nodded. It seemed she was taking what you said in consideration, at least.

“Mrreow.”

You looked down.

Countess had finally felt the smell of the meat you’d been cutting. She stood near the kitchen island, looking up expectantly with that ugly face.

“Nothing for you here, fat ass.” You said in somewhat of a hiss. Mayu shocked her hip on yours again, more aggressively.

“Don’t be mean to her!”

You looked down at the cat again. She eyed you with contempt. “I tolerate her too, see? I feed her and let her in my house because of you, but I don’t like her.” Mayu rolled her eyes and groaned. “Now take her out of here, you know I don’t like cats in the kitchen.”

Mayu crouched down and carried that miniature cow out of the room to feed her. How she didn’t break her back with the effort was a mystery.

You finished cooking in peace.

Gyudon, stir fried cabbage with carrot, ocha. You and Mayu sat down in the tatami room to eat. You tentatively texted Fushiguro to have dinner (because you didn’t feel comfortable to yell for him to come downstairs), though you already expected he wouldn’t want to dine with the two of you, and he really didn’t. It seems he was paying attention to everything up there, though, because not even three minutes after Mayu left, he came downstairs. Fushiguro dined in the kitchen. He muttered a quiet thank you before marching back to his room.

And then you were alone in the kitchen again.

Time to put the pans back in the fridge.

You paused.

A memory rang in your ears.

Why didn’t you make a bento for me, too?

Hm.

Truth is. You knew he was being a jealous manchild, but you felt bad for not making a bento for him that day. The thought didn’t even cross your mind, actually.

There was still plenty of food.

Hmm.

It wasn’t hard to find that big lunch box in the cabinet — the one that looked big enough to store food for an army. You filled it with gyudon to the brim. If he doesn’t want it, I can just eat it tomorrow, you thought while trying not to feel like an idiot. I can share it with Remi.

You grabbed your phone from the back pocket.

you: are you actually busy or did you just lie?

You didn’t even have time to drop the phone.

Gojo Satoru: I’m busyyyyy ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა

Gojo Satoru: Last minute meeting with higher ups :P or some bullshit

Gojo Satoru: Also don’t call me a liar I never lie (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for some seconds. You didn’t know what to say.

Fuck it.

you: i made a bento for you

you: not that you deserve it

And then you put the phone on the kitchen island, screen down, as if it burned, and waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

He usually didn’t take that long to reply. He probably had his phone in his hand, judging by how fast he typed back. 

Shit.

There’s still time to delete the text.

Yeah. Delete it. I’m just gonna eat it with Remi—

“Oooooown!”

You shrieked.

The phone almost flew from your hands. You stumbled back, your voice echoed around the house, you felt about to spit your heart out.

Gojo just smiled.

You put your hand over your chest, feeling your thundering heart.

“What the fuck?!” Was all you could breathe out.

Steps upstairs.

“What happened?!” Mayu screamed from the top of the stairs.

“Just a cockroach!” Gojo replied before you could. He looked very, very entertained.

She mumbled something — too far to be listenable — but didn’t come downstairs.

He was still smiling.

You always forgot that son of a bitch could teleport and he simply never used the front doors. He came from the backyard where the house’s anchor — the old tree — remained. Sneaked behind you.

“Stop doing that!” You whined angrily. “I almost died!”

“I almost died when I read your text!” Gojo grabbed his jacket where the heart is dramatically. “I mean— a bento for me? What must’ve happened to make you grace me with such kindness?!”

You crossed your arms. Your heart still beat furiously. “I don’t know either, ‘cause you don’t deserve it. Seriously.”

Gojo pouted. He knew what you were referring yourself to. “Aw, come on! It worked, didn’t it? Otherwise Mayu-chan would be freaking out about some possessed bunny.” He looked so proud of himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Weren’t you in a meeting, though?”

“They can wait.” Gojo opened the lunchbox excitedly. His mouth formed a perfect shocked “o”. “How did you know I love gyudon?”

“Everybody loves gyudon.”

“Oooh. And what’s for dessert?” If looks could kill, he would’ve dropped dead. “Just kidding! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is reeeeally nice!” 

That giant albino man, all giddy over a lunchbox.

It didn’t look like he was lying.

You ignored how that made your heart feel.

He closed the lid again. “Unfortunately for you, I gotta go before they notice I left. Where’s Satocchi, by the way?”

You had forgotten about the plushie. Quickly, you went to retrieve it where you had left on the couch; when you entered the kitchen once again, a smug expression covered your features.

“You said I’m really bad at this, right? Well, if I was this bad, I wouldn’t have made it—“

Immediately, you interrupted yourself.

You thought Gojo would appreciate your efforts. Joke about your cockiness, even. But he yanked the plushie from your hands. 

He wasn’t smiling.

“Did you exorcize Satocchi?”

You looked at him in confused silence.

“What?”

“You exorcized him?”

Oh shit. He wasn’t pranking. Uneasiness hit you. “I… well, I didn’t know how to make it stop dancing, and I had to drop it anyway, so…”

Wait.

Wait.

He said exorcise. 

As if it wasn’t just a weird plushie. As if it was somehow— somehow—

Gojo giggled. It wasn’t his usual amused, sarcastic or joyful giggle — it was that kind of laughter that comes when your body doesn’t know what to do because you’re too nervous.

Gojo was nervous.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. “Fuck. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me.”

What?

Your stomach dropped.

“You mean that thing was alive?!” You pointed at the plushie nervously.

“What’d you think?! I said it’s a cursed corpse! It was filled with cursed energy!”

And then you were desperate.

“Oh my God. But why— why did you give it to me in the first place?! Nullifying cursed energy is ‘the’ thing I do!”

“The gloves, Mori. That’s why I gave ‘em. You were supposed to envelop your body, not the doll.”

“But I—“

You looked at the plushie in his hands. It wasn’t even that ugly, now that you paid attention… it was kind of cute… its button eyes were lifeless, its sewn little mouth that was nothing more than a black line pointing down…

And now you wanted to fucking cry.

“I killed him!” Realization hit you like a truck. You covered your mouth with both hands in pure shock. “I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to—“

Gojo looked at your watery eyes, frowning.

“Are you actually going to cry?”

Yeah. You were.

Now he was laughing.

Laughing. Cackling. Gojo bent over as if his stomach hurt. He laughed and laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You wanted to throw the nearest object on his fucking head. Unfortunately, it was a knife.

“Holy shit— you’re crying!”

“I’m not crying!” No tear had streamed down your face yet. The tears had retreated because you wanted to kill him. “So this was all a prank?!”

“No—“ Gojo heaved. “No, I’m serious, you exorcised it. This was a cursed corpse. It was alive, sort of.”

And you wanted to cry again.

“I’m sorry—“

He was cackling again.

You didn’t know if you should apologize, or try to explain yourself, or get angry and say that it was his fault because he left you alone with Satocchi and didn’t explain things that well, or cry, or smack Gojo’s head — so you did everything, going through all the stages of grief in a two minutes.

You hadn’t even realized Fushiguro had entered the kitchen. His excuse was to take a cup of water but you were sure he was curious about the noise. He eyed your expression, and Gojo’s flushed cheeks due to laughter, and then Satocchi—

“One of Principal Masamichi’s dolls?” he asked with confusion.

You’d been sad, angry, frustrated, regretful… and now you were scared. 

“T-The Principal?” The black haired boy nodded.

The man that was almost two meters tall. A pile of muscle. The constant grimace of a movie-like Yakuza leader. And he didn’t even like you that much.

You killed his doll.

Shit.

Two seconds before, you wanted to cry. Now, you wanted to flee the fucking country.

“C’mon, Momorin, it ain’t that serious…” Gojo heaved, regaining his breath and his porture. You turned around to face him with a face that was half angry and half frightened.

“How is it not serious?! He’s gonna kill me!” And you hadn’t even stopped to think of why the hell a man that old and big had a dancing doll to begin with and how funny that was.

“No, he won’t.” Gojo lifted the blindfold up his forehead absently. Seeing his eyes completely unobstructed always made you shut up for some reason. He blinked rapidly and passed his thumb down his waterline. “Shit, I even cried a little.” A last giggle. Finally, he looked at you. “Relax, okay? This thing was under my responsibility anyway.”

You put your hands on your waist awkwardly. “...But I feel bad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re cute. But you don’t need to feel that bad over this.”

Something inside you simultaneously froze and heated up at the same time.

Cute.

Fushiguro’s footsteps walked out of the kitchen, but you barely registered it.

Cute, he said. Gojo called me cute.

And he said it so naturally, too.

He didn’t look embarrassed to have said it. 

Okay.

“Now… I really gotta go–”

“Wait.” You said, lifting a finger. Gojo watched you run to the other side of the kitchen and open a cabinet. Promptly, you came back holding an black insulated bag and placed the lunchbox inside it. “I bet you don’t wanna eat it cold.”

Gojo watched you quietly.

He still hadn’t put the blindfold down.

The lip tightened smile was still there. You wanted to imagine that it was because of how bad he laughed just two minutes prior. Gojo was a smiley person anyway. 

But there was that look in his eyes, too.

The one that looked dangerously like endearment.

You felt heat creeping up your nape. It didn’t have anything to do with cursed energy. 

“What?” You asked, because what else could you ask?

He smirked a bit, making the dimple on the right side of his cheek peak. One second. Two seconds.

“Nothing.” 

At last, Gojo covered his eyes with the blindfold once again.

He took the bag with the lunchbox over the counter.

“Thank you again, Mori! Can’t wait to eat this! If it tastes bad, I’ll let you know too, by the way!”

It was so easy for him to slip back into this persona.

You snorted.

“It doesn’t taste bad. Don’t disrespect me.”

“That we’ll see.” 

Gojo started to make his way out of the kitchen. You watched as he eyed Satocchi in his hand once more – your heart twinged with remorse – and shook his head slowly.

“I’m fucked.” He mumbled under his breath in a tone that, once again, sounded way too nervous.

You didn’t see it when he teleported away, but for the first time, you felt it. The absence of that tune – that frequency that played whenever he was around.

You leaned your hip on the counter and reflected for some moments.

Gojo’s eyes on you.

There was something going on.

Something you couldn’t – or didn’t want to – name. Couldn’t quite decipher yet. Maybe you were scared to do so. 

But it was there. 

It was getting increasingly harder to ignore it.

But…

Now now.

A/N: this is like the third time our girl said "not now". how long until she's finally FORCED to address the TWO elephants in the room she's been ignoring?? - TRAINING MONTAGE!!! honestly!! i had to think real hard about the satocchi stuff. bc i thought gojo using the cursed dolls to train ppl before yuji sounded accurate and cute. BUT i remembered that i had established that MC's technique nullifies C/E upon touching them, so i was like uhhhh. this ain't gonna work. then the gloves came!! satocchi is programmed to stop moving when it feels C/E, not by having it put INTO him like what yuji did. sorta like standing near a stove. you feel the heat but isn't burned. yk??? does it make sense??? I'M TRYING TO RESPECT THE MAGIC SYSTEM!! - another pretty domestic chapter! we're slowly making our way into making this awkward bunch into a family!! how long will things remain this calm, tho?? I DON'T KNOW!! AS USUAL, comments are MUCH MUCH MUCH appreciated! reading your thoughts on the story ALWAYS make my day. i'm SO SERIOUS. even when i'm not that active, seeing that my inbox has a new comment makes my DAY! NEXT CHAPTER - the training will progress!! the elephants will take more space in the room!! See you <3

[winding-maze]

"Blackbird" - personal work, inspired by my hometown. Blackbirds are my favourite - they sing so beautifully.

[canteatea]

Shoujo-fied my angsty ship <3

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 10

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 10k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

As funny as it sounds, the SNIPERS SHOOTING CLUB! was, in fact, like. A club.

After your third visit, you became an official member. Michio proudly gave you a round pin with the club logo on it. He even explained that there were monthly tournaments and you could participate; there was a fee, of course, and awards that ranged from a pack of beer to an all-paid dinner at a famous Korean barbecue house. You got curious, though, because Michio talked about the competition thing in the corner, while Gojo was in the bathroom.

He smiled sheepishly and explained in a quiet, hushed voice:

“Satoru always participated, you see. And he always won every tournament by a lot. So… the other club members started to get disheartened to participate.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “The tournament fees are a big part of the club’s income. I… am not very proud of saying this, but for my own sake, I had to ban Satoru from participating. Otherwise no one else would want to compete.” He got one step closer and lowered his voice. “But he doesn’t know that he’s banned, so… hum… it’d be kind of you if you kept this a secret.”

You had to laugh.

On your fourth visit, it already felt like routine.

Gojo would pop up. You’d drive to the shooting club (that was about twenty minutes away from home), practice for one hour, drive back home, Gojo would leave. He was busy; you were busy. That was the most free time both of you had anyway. 

On the evening of the fourth visit, though, Gojo decided to deviate the route a bit. He kept whining about how he had this disease called the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease and as you were a doctor it was your responsibility to take care of it and if he died of that disease it would be yoooooour fault.

So you stopped at an okonomiyaki restaurant, of course.

It wasn’t a fancy place, and it looked like it’d been here for ages, judging by the yellowed posters on the walls that looked like they were placed in the 2000’s and the amount of older customers. That’s how you know food’s good. The smells immediately made your belly rumble as if you had contracted the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease as well. Gojo was giggly, and excited, and kept wiggling from side to side like a fucking kid, and he honest to God would not shut up. He had let go of the jacket, exposing the (already usual) light blue dress shirt underneath. It was a bit of a funny contrast to see him dressed like a businessman on lunch break while acting like a boy.

Cute is what your mind kept repeating like a mantra, even though you wanted to ignore it.

Cute cute cute cute cute.

The waitress thought he was cute, too.

Obviously. How couldn’t she, when his smiles were so effortless and pretty, when his dimples said hi whenever he smiled, when happiness and excitement looked so good on him? How could she not blush, stutter and unconsciously put a strand of hair behind her ear?

You understood her. Truly, you did.

She was pretty and young, too.

Hm.

Food arrived. Gojo ate his first okonomiyaki, then two, then three. He kept hmmmm-ing at every bite. It was nice, you thought, to be around him in times like these; to talk about irrelevant things, like the film he watched last night (Sharknado 3, he said, calling it an “underrated masterpiece”), or about the new nurse you kinda had a feud with (“I know she doesn’t like me, I just can’t prove it yet”), to how the two of you were obsessed with Need For Speed Underground II when you were younger.

It felt so nice. Just two normal friends having lunch together. Talking about useless things, common interests, laughing at fun stuff.

Normal.

You had a 9mm inside your purse, though.

There was nothing normal about that.

The latent fear within yourself wasn’t normal, either. Your mind knew you were safe with Gojo; your body didn’t. It felt anxious in ways you couldn’t control. It kept getting startled at every movement the other customers did, even if they were mostly elders. 

This fear kept reminding you that your life — your existence — wasn’t normal.

So unfortunately, you had to talk about the abnormal things with the abnormal guy, although you’d rather not bring the mood down.

You waited until dessert arrived, at least.

Gojo asked for pudding (the large one, supposed to serve two people, but he wanted it all to himself). You settled for the small serving. How Gojo still had space in his stomach for more food was a mystery. His hmmmmmm’s!! became more aggressive. He really really liked sweets, huh?

You took two bites and cleared your throat.

His eyes immediately shot up to your face. You could see them over the glasses.

He already knew what that meant.

“So.” You began. You massaged the smooth surface of the pudding with the back of the spoon to busy your nervous hands. “The training’s been nice. I think I’m pretty good at it already.”

“Slow down, sweetheart.” His mouth was full, making him look like a squirrel. “You just started training with moving targets.”

“Yeah— but I’m pretty good at shooting, right?”

“Uh-huh. If your opponent stands still waiting to be shot, sure.”

The angry glare you sent him made him giggle. Little shit.

“Okay! I know I need to train more.” You pouted. The sane part of you realized that was ridiculous, so you ate a bit more pudding to mask that. Pouting? I’m someone that pouts now? I’m spending too much time with him. “But that’s not where I’m trying to get.”

“So where are you trying to get to?”

“I’ll get there if you let me talk.” Another pissed glare. Another amused giggle from him. “What about. You know. My technique?”

He took another spoonful. Albino squirrel. “What about it?”

“I still don’t know what to do with it at all.” You started to shake your leg nervously under the table. Shit, that’s embarrassing. “I thought… well… I thought—“

“You thought the Great Teacher Gojo Satoru would be training you already?”

Ugh.

You hated his smug expression. You hated how that’d just boost his already stratospheric ego.

But it was true.

Being completely honest, you thought after the “test” on the haunted house, he had made up his mind on teaching you. You thought it was already settled, like an unspoken deal. However… it’d already been almost a month and Gojo never even touched the subject.

You kind of sunk on the seat, resting your cheek on your palm, eyes glued on the pudding.

“…I mean.” You shrugged.

You braced yourself to what would follow.

“Oooow!” Sarcastic little shit. His eyes gleamed. He held his face with both hands, forcing a cute expression that you wanted to punch. “No need to act shy, Momorin! Everybody wants the honor to be taught by the strongest sorcerer alive! It’d be weird if you weren’t squirming with excitement, in fact!”

“I’m not squirming.” You kicked his shin under the table. He giggled viciously. “Be serious for a moment!”

“I aaaam being serious.” One more spoonful of pudding. He pointed at you with the spoon lazily afterwards. “I ain’t forget about that, sweetheart. But you’re in a complicated position, remember? You shouldn’t be receiving training. I have to be careful about how I’ll do it.” Okay. Fair. He had a point. “Also – I think you have more important things to deal with before we jump to the real stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Your anxiety.”

You froze.

His lazy smile was still there. His intelligent blue eyes analyzing you; the glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose slightly. You could kinda see them.

That felt like he had thrown a bucket of ice over your head.

There it was again— this thing about Gojo that made it so strange, yet instigating to be around him. Gojo was acting like a giant fool until that moment. Like a manchild. Babbling, giggling, moving like a hyperactive kid, humming loud as hell because he loooooved pudding and he was soooo obsessed with Tekken 5 back then and how he won a bunch of tournaments at an arcade when he was a kid because he’s soooo awesome at everything he does.

But now he was staring at you — and you knew he was seeing you, seeing inside of you, seeing through you. The stuff you so carefully were trying to hide. The quick glances around, how you tried to busy your hands so no one would notice your fingertips shaking a bit, how you smoked more cigarettes than usual to try to calm your system down. The things you didn’t open up to anyone, because that was unlike you. You were terrified of being a burden, of bringing anyone too much trouble — especially to Gojo, because you knew how much he was already doing for you. You didn’t want to be a reason for worry.

Gojo was seeing it nevertheless.

It wasn’t just about his supernatural blue eyes. It was about how much attention he was paying to everything around him; to you, even though he was great at hiding it behind a mask of nonchalance and playfulness.

It’d be on brand for you to try to brush it off. To say something snarky and witty, try to deviate his attention elsewhere. But there was no point in lying, was there? You knew he would see the truth in you anyways. 

So you just avoided his gaze again, feeling your shoulders shrink unintentionally.

Your brain realized that you were pouting again a second too late.

“Ooooow!” Shut up!! Shut up!! “You’re acting way too cute today, Momorin!”

“Don’t embarrass me even more!” you whined, biting one more angry spoonful of pudding. Your neck, nape and face felt hot. Gojo giggled again.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed of. It’s normal to be anxious when you’re being hunted. I mean— it’s normal to normal people, heh, ‘cause I—“ he straightened his back like a proud peacock and smirked. “—I ain’t ever felt anxious over this type of thing.”

“Wow. How inspiring.” The pudding tasted sour in your tongue. Wasn’t he the one who loved to brag all the time about being the strongest or whatever the fuck? You doubted he could understand you. “Who would be dumb enough to try to hunt the strongest guy around?”

“A whole lotta people since I came out of my mother’s womb.”

That made you pause.

Gojo ate more pudding. He stated that so quickly. So naturally. 

“You serious?”

“Yep!” He swallowed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this pretty head of mine on a silver platter?”

He was playful as usual. But the more you thought about it… your frown deepened.

“People were hunting you when you were a child?”

Gojo nodded.

Your stomach dropped.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment. You can’t obtain a technique… you have to be born with it. So since he was a toddler… since he was a baby…?

“Again— I knooow you love talking about me, because I’m such an interesting and amusing person,” you rolled your eyes. “but right now you’re the topic! We’re talking about your little problem.”

At that moment, though, you in fact wanted to talk about him. That piece of information was shocking. For the first time, you realized that, at the same time Gojo talked about himself all the time, he barely talked about himself; about what actually mattered. The silly stuff? He’d talk about it for hours. What he ate, what movies he watched, a joke he learned, this especially ugly person he saw on the subway or the stinky dog he petted on the street. He texted the whole day, sent photos in real time. Whenever you took your phone from your locker in the dressing room, it’d be packed with notifications from him.

But what about his job? What he did on his work trips? His classes, his students? His parents, friends, family? His past?

Gojo didn’t talk about any of that. Ever.

You had to learn through Ijichi that he was a member of an important jujutsu clan, after all, because he didn’t bother telling you. Gojo wasn’t just a sorcerer-teacher-whatever the way you thought — the way he didn’t try to make you think otherwise.

This man was an important part of your everyday life. At the moment, he had become your closest friend, simply because you couldn’t talk about your real problems with any of your friends anymore, not even with Mayu. And yet — you barely knew him.

This had to change.

But not now, clearly, as Gojo was so quick to change topics as soon as you got even close to talking about his childhood.

You rested your chin on your palm. “What do you want me to do? Take anxiolytics?" 

“Pfft. No.” He shook his head. Gojo’s pudding was almost over. He scooped a bunch of syrup from the plate and ate it heartily. “I want you to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“Well. I am anxious because I’m paying too much attention to everything.” Your leg started to shake as if to make a point. “I can’t relax.”

“No, you ain’t paying attention. You’re looking from side to side like a scared mouse.” He licked the spoon. Distracting. This time, his eyes were on you, not on the plate. “You’re not locking your attention on what actually matters.”

Gojo scooped more syrup from the plate. Instead of defending yourself like you’d usually do, you decided to listen.

“For example…” He licked the spoon again. His eyes were back on the plate. “That dude with the red jacket sitting near the front doors you’ve been eyeing the whole time.”

You froze.

Gojo wasn’t even looking at him. In fact, you didn’t even remember catching him looking that way.

You gulped.

“I— I thought I was being discreet,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. Gojo chuckled in response.

“Oh, you were. He isn’t.” It was true. The man, looking to be around his fifties, stole quick glances at your table all the time, which made you get more and more anxious. “And that’s the thing, see? He’s being obvious. But that uncle isn’t targeting you, he’s just being a man.”

You felt your nape getting hot with his implication. 

“And then there’s that other woman sitting behind us.” Once again, Gojo didn’t look back while he talked, more focused on taking every lasting drop of caramel syrup from his plate, but you felt even more embarrassed; you were focusing on her as well. She looked across the table to where you were all the time, zapping her eyes from her phone to your location constantly and making you nervous. “Well… she’s just being a woman.”

He wiggled his eyebrows smugly. You scrunched your nose in a grimace. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“What? I’m hot! It can’t be helped! Women will gawk at me, either you like it or not. But don’t worry, darling, I only have eyes for you.” He spoke that intentionally louder, intentionally dramatic, loud enough so that the woman behind you and the dude in red could hear, simultaneously making them avoid their gazes (they were paying attention) and you giggle in a mix of embarrassment and endearment.

Gojo finally looked up at you again, leaning a bit closer in your direction.

“What I mean with all this, Mori, is that when someone actually pops up targeting you – because that will happen sooner or later –, it’s not gonna be obvious like that.” His voice dropped. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose; you could see them. He still smiled a little bit, but it was different: mysterious. You knew what that tone, that expression meant. Gojo wasn’t playing. He meant every word. It was one of those moments when he looked wise in a way that seemed unfitting to someone his age. It almost looked like authority, in a way.

That was a man that knew what the fuck he was talking about.

He had your full attention.

“When a skilled curse user cross your path… it ain’t gonna be like in the movies. Some spy wearing a trench coat, dark shades and a fedora hat.” You giggled briefly at the idea. He couldn’t help himself but joking a little, even when he was being serious. “They’ll be silent. They will know how to creep around you without being noticed. It ain’t gonna be sudden, either. Maybe they’ll be creeping for days… weeks… making you feel used to their presence. Waiting ‘til you have your guard down.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Uhm… none of the people that came after me ‘til now were that silent.” Not at all. Both attempted kidnappings happened in broad daylight, with a bunch of possible witnesses and literal media coverage.

“That’s why I said skilled curse users.” His voice dropped even lower. He leaned a bit closer. “Truth is… you might not even notice what’s happening until it’s too late.”

His words sunk in. The air around you felt heavier, more difficult to breathe.

“What should I do?” You asked.

Gojo scooped a little bit of caramel that still remained on the plate. “If you ain’t gonna see them,” He licked the spoon. Distractiiiing. He pointed at you with the now clean spoon. “You gotta sense them.”

“How?”

“People like us accumulate cursed energy, some much more than others. Regardless of how vast one’s energy reserves are, it is always possible to feel that emanating from them in a way a normal person won’t. That’s how you will recognize a threat. That’s how you’ll pinpoint a curse user in the middle of a packed crowd.”

You nodded slowly and crossed your arms. “How can I do that?”

Gojo pouted, poking the back of the spoon on his lips absently. “It’s not that hard. It should feel pretty natural, to be honest. But I guess it won’t feel that way for you, since you awakened your technique much later in life.” He shrugged. “I guess my presence doesn’t make it any easier for you, either. I might be stunting your senses.”

For a second, you thought that he was boasting his own ego again, but it didn’t sound like it.

“In what way?”

Gojo smirked and leaned his head to the side.

“Let’s just say I am too much.”

You pretended to not understand the double meaning there.

You actively decided to ignore it for your own sanity, in fact.

“I don’t get it.” You stated. 

Gojo hummed and straightened his back, leaning on the chair once more. He let go of the spoon and crossed his arms.

“Hmm… lemme try something.”

You frowned a bit. “You’re not gonna make me fight a curse out of nowhere, right? ‘Cause I never trust you when you come with this ‘lemme try something’ talk–”

You froze.

The words you were about to say derailed in your throat. Forgotten. Your eyes widened.

You looked around.

It was silent. Nothing had changed.

But, at the same time–

“So?” Gojo eyed you with much interest. 

You blinked several times. 

“I… I can’t…”

He smiled. Gojo already knew what you meant.

Thankfully so, because you couldn’t even begin to explain what you were feeling.

Or rather not feeling. 

That was precisely it: the absence of feeling. The lack of something that was there all along; like someone had pulled a warm blanket from over your body out of nowhere, exposing you to the cold. Like a little, constant note that had been playing in your ears for so long that you hadn’t even noticed it was there, until someone finally turned the radio off.

It was silent.

For the first time in longer than you could even remember, it was silent.

“What did you do?” You finally asked.

“Masked my own cursed energy. Yeah, I was right. I was really stunting your senses. My bad.” Gojo shrugged once again. “How do you feel?”

You gulped. “It’s… quiet.”

He sent you a puzzled look. “That’s an interesting way to put it.” He remarked. “This is how a ‘normal’ environment is supposed to feel. No cursed energy. If there is something, however…”

Gradually.

The tune came back. Low, very low, until its volume was back to what you were used to. The warmth; the blanket being carefully put over your body again. It was back. Except this time, after experiencing its absence, you noticed its presence.

It felt gentle, in a way.

“...it should feel like this,” Gojo continued. “Though weaker. You have to learn how to refine your perception. Very skilled sorcerers know how to mask their cursed energy just like I did. You gotta look for that spark in the darkness; that little light, the perception that something is off. That something that shouldn’t be there is.”

You nodded slowly.

That was mesmerizing.

You had no other way to put it.

Mesmerizing.

It was like you had awakened some sort of sixth sense. Something extraordinary. And yeah — maybe you shouldn’t be that shocked; you had enough time to let everything regarding jujutsu sink in. The fact that this hidden society existed, that your hallucinations were real, that a person could possess super human powers. But quite honestly, until that moment, you still hadn’t felt different. Yes, you exorcized a curse willingly at the haunted house; but even then, it didn’t feel that you were doing much. You hadn’t felt extraordinary.

At that moment, as you finally sensed Gojo’s cursed energy — or the lack of it —, something clicked inside your head.

You weren’t a normal person thrown into a foreign world. You were part of it. This world just felt foreign because you had entered it later in life. 

For the first time, you didn’t just come to terms that you had to learn how to use your technique; you felt… excited about it.

And maybe Gojo noticed that, too, given the little smile on his lips. It wasn’t his usual flippant smirk. You avoided his gaze, focusing on what little remained of your pudding. You didn’t want to deal with the expression that looked dangerously like endearment. You didn’t want to acknowledge how that made you feel.

Not at that moment.

In the end, the only thing that came from your mouth was a frustrated groan when Gojo lifted his hand out of nowhere and said:

“Waitress! Can you bring me one more pudding?”

Goddamnit.

You had imagined how the training would go.

Granted, the fault was on your fertile imagination. I mean, what else comes to mind when someone says training? To yours, the view of Goku and Gohan exchanging blows in the Time Room came as clear as day. Yoda hanging from Luke’s back on a swamp planet. You even imagined Gojo going jacket on! Jacket off! Pick up the jacket!! 

In other words, you thought it’d be cool.

Him sitting on the sofa holding a bunny plushie didn’t look cool.

You were rotting in bed on your day off, mindlessly scrolling in your phone, when a text of his popped up: super incredible sensational jujutsu training with great teacher Gojo Satoru begins TODAY!!!! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ and that was more than enough to make you jump off the bed and take the pajamas off. You panicked for two seconds, thinking, should I put on gymwear?, but you imagined he would’ve told you so if it was needed, so you settled for something comfortable and light — a simple white t-shirt and black jogger pants — before leaving your room.

You didn’t expect he’d already be sitting there in the living room.

Gojo wore his usual uniform. Today, instead of the bandages covering his eyes, the black blindfold. It didn’t look like he was ready to get up, though, judging by the way he was so relaxed, sitting with his legs spread open like that.

You stood at the entrance and looked at him awkwardly.

He probably had been sitting there for a while. He probably heard you jumping off the bed and rushing to get changed. 

That was a bit embarrassing.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly.

Gojo smiled. “You look excited!”

Ugh.

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

His smile widened. Dimples. “That’s the spirit!”

You walked into the living room tentatively. “So… where is this training going to happen?”

“Right here!”

You stopped on your tracks, frowning.

“...Here?”

“Yep!”

“But Mayu’s home.” It was Sunday, after all.

“Won’t be a problem!”

That was a bit disappointing. Half of your excitement vanished.

“Here’s your training buddy, by the way!”

And then he lifted the plushie, holding it with both hands as if he was handing you a cat.

The thing was… creepy.

It was a floppy white bunny. Yeah, it sounds cute, but this plushie was all battered up as if an angry kid used it to unleash all of their anger on it, dragging it by the leg and beating it on the walls repeatedly. The legs, arms and ears were all comically long. It had two buttons as eyes, the left one being bigger than the other, in purple and yellow.

Gojo peeked his head from behind the plushie, still smiling.

“I picked him so you can think of me while you train!” You just kept looking at him in silent confusion. Gojo seemed disappointed that you didn’t get what he meant. “Uh, white bunny? Cinnamorroll? Duh-huh?”

“Oh.” Jesus. You had forgotten about the merch you bought him. You quirked one eyebrow. “Cinnamorroll is a dog, though.”

The smile vanished from his lips.

He dropped his arms down his lap again, so it looked like the plushie was sitting there, its head flopped down in disappointment. You could see the outline of his furrowed brows under the blindfold. “A dog?”

“Yeah.” 

Gojo thought about it for two seconds. “That’s awful character design.”

“Uh-huh.” You approached him, standing near the couch, and motioned to touch the plushie. “So… what am I going to do with it–?”

Gojo shifted, yanking the plushie away from your reach. “Nuh-huh! Put the gloves on first!”

“Gloves–?” He pointed at it with his chin.

You turned around to see a pair of thick grey gloves over the coffee table. Like, really thick gardening gloves. These too looked old, clearly bigger than your hand size. 

Again – weird.

But you decided not to question it. You put the gloves on anyway. Gojo moved to the side, giving you space to sit down, and so you did. 

“Now, as I was saying, Satocchi will be your training buddy from now on.” 

“Excuse me– Satocchi?”

“Yup.” He grinned cheekily. “I mean, that’s practically my twin!”

You rolled your eyes. He giggled. A part of you was giggling, too, but fuck that part. Gojo at last handed you the plushie, which you held awkwardly in those big, uncomfortable gloves.

“Will there be any further explanation or I’ll have to figure out what to do–?”

The bunny jumped.

It fucking jumped.

You jumped, too, shrieking, shocking your back against the couch, pulling your legs off the ground too and gluing them to your chest because what the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! The thing moved?! It’s moving?! It’s– it’s–

Breakdancing?!

You watched, eyes widened, heart racing, as the bunny was literally, without any exaggeration, b-boying over the coffee table, moving like a human being without emitting a sound or music.

Gojo cackled.

He threw his head back, laughing at the top of his lungs. You just kept watching the creature without batting an eye.

You heard rushed steps up there.

“What happened?!” Mayu asked from the top of the stairs. You panicked. What if she comes down and sees this?!

“Nothing!” You screamed back. “A– A cockroach!”

“A cursed corpse!” Gojo screamed at the same time as you. You aggressively threw a cushion on his face, to which he deflected with ease and laughed harder.

“A cockroach!” You screamed louder this time. “Just a cockroach!”

“Ew!” You heard Mayu saying up there… and her steps back to her room.

Thank God.

Your head whipped in Gojo’s direction again. “Make it stop!” You hissed.

“No, you have to make it stop.” He was still laughing.

“How the fuck–?” You looked at it again. The plushie was moonwalking. You shivered. 

Finally, Gojo moved.

He leaned closer to the table. Took the plushie by the ears; the moment his hand touched it, the thing stopped moving. Flopped, lifeless once again.

He turned to you. The laughter had finally died down, but he still held a very entertained smile there.

“Satocchi right here is programmed to stop moving when it feels cursed energy. If you don’t put that to work, it’ll dance.”

Oh.

You eyed him, and the plushie, and him.

You didn’t want to touch that thing. Not at all.

“I don’t know how to do that.” You gulped.

“You do! You just don’t know that you do. But it’s intuitive. It ain’t something complicated to do, but like I said before, you’re unaware of it because your technique awakened late.” Slowly you sat like a normal person again because Gojo was going into his wise mode. Oh, so he’s not playing. This is serious. “Tell me; the moments you used your cursed energy, even if unconsciously, how did you feel?”

You thought about it.

When you were kidnapped, wrapped in paper tags (seals) and managed to free yourself with black “flames”; when you “fought” against the frog-like curse at the haunted house; or even that little curse you accidentally stepped on. The thing you felt during all of those situations was…

“Anger.” You stated. “I was angry… and it happened.” 

Gojo nodded. “And how did you feel afterwards?”

You thought about it again. “…Very tired. Like… my legs.” You gesticulated awkwardly towards them. “Feel heavy as if I’d run a marathon.”

Gojo nodded again. “That’s because you’ve just been bursting cursed energy without any control over it. And that sucks, ‘cause you’re burning your supply all at once; it’s impractical, because you’ll see yourself without cursed energy to use, and it takes a tool on your body.” He pointed at you. “Your cursed energy control is bad. Like, bad in ways that baffle me. Again— I think it’s because your technique awakened very late. Right now, you’re like Ariel when she gained legs, you know? Stumbling around and stuff.” 

You nodded slowly. It hadn’t occurred to you that anything he was saying mattered. So… cursed energy was like gas in the tank and you had to know how to spend it wisely. According to what he said in the restaurant, some people could have a bigger tank than others. Okay. All of that was understandable.

“It means that putting out cursed energy is something as natural as walking?” 

“Yes.” Gojo held the plushie with both hands again. “What I want you to do… is envelop your own body with a very thin layer of cursed energy, enough to make Satocchi sense it, and keep it intact, until you can make it permanent with no effort.”

You nodded again. Cursed energy was like walking… and that plushie was like a walker, because you had never “walked” before. 

He handed you the plushie.

You took it with both hands.

It immediately started dancing. Now that your grip was firm and you were aware that it would move, though, you didn’t let it leap away. The bunny kept wriggling from side to side, legs and arms twitching around (was it dancing to Thriller?!), and it felt the same as trying to hold a hyperactive kitten that clearly didn’t want to be held.

“This is–” you groaned. “–distracting!”

“C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“I don’t–” it almost jumped away. “–I don’t know how!”

“Pull the energy without relying on any emotions.” He was using that whiny tone that was really annoying. “Remember, using cursed energy is like using your legs. It ain’t that hard.”

You looked down at the plushie angrily while it swayed from side to side once more. 

Not relying on emotions.

How did it feel that time in the meat locker with the kidnappers?

You were so angry. You were begging your body to do something. Then… you felt heat in your chest, so bad that you thought you were suffering from cardiac arrest. It had an actual effect on your body, differently from when you stepped on the rat at the hospital or even when you exorcised the frog-like curse.

It wasn’t just about emotion. You had pulled a reaction out of yourself, even if unintentionally.

You frowned in concentration.

Try to tap that place again.

My chest.

The heat.

You felt it.

It wasn’t nearly as strong as that time… but it was there nevertheless. That thing you couldn’t name, that was part of you, yet you had never noticed before. 

“Slow,” Gojo said in somewhat of a warning tone. “Go slowly.”

Instinctively, your fingers curled around the plushie with the effort. Less heat. You toned it down. It’s still here, you noticed. Okay. Now pull it. Slowly like he said.

It spread from that tiny point in your chest until you felt it covering all of your ribcage, down to your stomach, up to your shoulders.

“Am I doing the thing?” You asked in a voice strained by effort.

“Yeah, you’re doing the thing.”

Almost at the same time, Satocchi interrupted its impeccable Thriller performance and flopped motionless like a regular plushie doll.

“Ooooh,” you breathed out in a mix of relief and excitement. “It’s–”

Satocchi twitched.

You shut up and focused on pulling the thing again.

Gojo giggled.

“Wow, you’re so bad at this, it almost pisses me off.”

“Shut up–” you felt the heat get stronger without meaning to.

“Uh-uh! Tone it down! Keep the even flow even if you’re angry!” 

Okay. Less heat. 

The plushie stopped moving.

You looked at him angrily.

“It’s my first try, okay?! You’re not being very supportive!”

“Nah, I’m making you mad on purpose so you can train your cursed energy flow while feeling different emotions.” He grinned cockily. “I’m so smart!”

You rolled your eyes. Satocchi twitched again. You focused on it.

“How long do I have to do this?” You asked after a while. “I don’t want Mayu to see it.”

Gojo hummed. You lifted your eyes to him again; he was eyeing his phone, typing something with one hand, while the other arm went to rest on the couch’s backrest comfortably. 

“Now that you mentioned it, how long do you plan on hiding everything from her?” His voice was quieter, a new hint of seriousness and interest there. “‘Cause, you know, you can’t do that forever.”

You immediately grimaced.

“...Do I even have to?” This time, you were the one whining quietly like a kid. Your leg started to shake on instinct. Gojo huffed.

“I mean.” Even though he wore the blindfold, you knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot. Maybe you were an idiot. It was a bit offensive to be considered an idiot by the idiot guy. “Your case won’t get solved that quick, if you hadn’t already noticed. I might even say that things will get more complicated as we progress. It’ll get harder and harder to keep everything from her.”

“It’s not–” Satocchi twitched. You focused on it. It stopped moving. “–that easy.”

“Why not?” You could see the outline of his eyebrow quirking under the blindfold. Each word of his made you more uncomfortable. “Plenty of non-sorcerers know about jujutsu. Government people, cops, sorcerers’ relatives…”

“It’s ‘cause–” The bunny twitched again. You groaned, trying to focus on your cursed energy flow.

It’s because Mayu has already been through enough.

Mayu didn’t have a mother she remembered well. She lost her dad when she was eleven. You brought her back to Japan, a country she was not born in, and even though she luckily adjusted fast and well, you knew it wasn’t an easy change. Mayu dealt with feelings and absences you knew you’d never be able to fulfill, even if you did your best.

You just wanted to offer some stability in her life. Some comfort. Some normalcy.

You never planned to have this strange power awaken out of the blue, to be targeted, to have to learn how to defend yourself, to be taken out of your homes. You hated that Mayu couldn’t go wherever she wanted anymore. The thought that she was in danger because of you was maddening. You didn’t want Mayu to be even more scared or worried; she did not need this heavy of a weight over her shoulders. 

At least, not yet.

“You might think it’s not that deep, but it’s because you were born in this world, okay?” You stated somewhat angrily whilst trying to keep Satocchi immovable. “Neither me or her were. Mayu’s normal. You can’t just come to a normal person and say, look, there are dangerous spiritual creatures lurking around. Also I have supernatural powers and someone wants to get me for whatever reason.”

Gojo snorted again. “It’s what you were told. It’s what everyone who’s involved with jujutsu is told. You get used to it eventually.”

“It’s not–” Even flow even flow even flow. Satocchi stopped moving again. “Look, it’s not like I’ll never tell her. I know I can’t hide things forever. It’s just–” You gulped. “Not now.”

Gojo eyed you in silence for some seconds, expression unreadable. He probably still thought you were an idiot.

“Okay.” He finally said, shrugging. “Well. But if you don’t want her to find out about anything now, you better work on your training very hard.”

You frowned. “What do you mean…?”

Almost as if being summoned, you heard steps up there.

Your back stiffened.

Faster than you could even look back, Mayu jumped over the couch and plopped down between you two.

“So, who’s making the popcorn?” She asked excitedly.

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

Mayu turned to you with confusion. “Ain’t we gonna watch a movie?” She waved her phone lightly. “Blindfold-san said in the groupchat.”

What?!

“Yes!” Gojo exclaimed with excitement. “I just found out that Mayu-chan never watched Gladiator! Like, what have you been teaching this kid, Momorin?! This is unacceptable!”

He stood up in a jump. You hadn’t noticed the DVD case over the coffee table. Mayu sat more comfortably while he turned the TV on.

She eyed your gloves with awkwardness.

“Why the hell are you wearing these?”

Your back was stiff, your arms were stiff, your legs were stiff– you felt the plushie twitching– shit shit shit shit shit–

Even flow! Even flow! Even flow!!

“Gardening.” You said between gritted teeth. “I was gardening.”

She still eyed you like you were a weirdo. “...Okay.”

The Universal Studios logo filled the screen. Gojo ran back to sit on the couch. 

He’s not doing this to me.

He’s not fucking doing this to me.

You couldn’t move. Panic filled your system. Mayu was right there. If the plushie moved a centimeter– if your flow weakened just a bit– there’s no way she wouldn’t see it. 

“And this plushie?”

You froze even more than what you were already frozen.

“It’s a gift from me!” Gojo had the decency to at least intervene this time.

She scrunched her nose. “It’s so fugly.”

“Don’t talk about Satocchi like that.” Gojo pouted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“The movie.” You groaned in a sound similar to the cry of a wild animal that was caught in a trap. “Pay attention to the– movie.”

She paid attention to the goddamn movie.

Even flow even flow even flow even flow–

Four minutes into the film, Gojo whined very dramatically. Your head whipped in his direction.

“Waaah… something urgent popped up outta nowhere! I gotta go solve it!”

You son of a fucking bitch–

“Do you want to pause the movie?” Mayu asked.

“No, it’s fine. Finish watching it!”

He got up from the couch.

So he was just going to walk out like that?! Leave you with the fucking plushie that moves?! After what you just told him about not letting Mayu know?!

What the fuck?!

He walked out of the living room. You looked at him from over your shoulder, sending a last pleading, desperate gaze that said please help me!!

Gojo waved a very sarcastic goodbye, opening a disgusting smirk in an expression that said No!!

And he left.

Just like that.

Shit.

Fuck.

Satocchi twitched.

You changed positions on the couch to try to disguise it. Thankfully, Mayu’s eyes were glued on the screen.

Okay.

I can do this.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were panicked. You were pissed. Your feet were cold. Your back hurt. Keep pulling it. Even flow. Even flow. It shouldn't be that hard. It’s like walking. It’s like using your legs. Pulling cursed energy from within you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping this constant flow definitely was. Satocchi’s shoulder moved. You groaned, tried to pretend that it was because of that scene when Maximus finds his dead wife and son. Mayu was locked in the movie. Oh my God. Okay. We’re making progress. Even flow. Even flow. ‘I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the armies of the North, General of the Felix legions–’ SHUT THE FUCK UUUUP. Shut up!! You couldn’t focus. This scene is so fucking cool, a part of you thought, the soundtrack is amazing, while the other part kept yelling shut the fuck uuup!!

Even flow. Even flow. 

Mayu wasn’t even blinking. You weren’t, either, but because of your inner terror. God– the music in this movie really is phenomenal. It always made you want to cry. Shit. Maximus walking on the fields, on the verge of death, seeing his wife and son in the distance. Shit. Shit. Your eyes were watery. Mayu’s were, too. ‘You’re home,’ Lucilla said, while he closed his eyes for the last time. The music got louder. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wanted to cry. Mayu, too. The actress’ outfit is gorgeous, you thought. Those earrings… wow. Wait– the pillars in the colosseum look like dildos. Now you wanted to cry and to laugh.

The movie was over.

Mayu sniffed.

“That was so good!” She stated, trying to pretend that she wasn’t crying a little. “What the hell? I didn’t know it was this good!”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Ugh.” Mayu got up. “I gotta pee.”

She left the room.

Credits were rolling.

You were in the same position for two hours. Your knees were stuck.

But the plushie didn’t dance.

You were angry, panicked, emotional for a little while, and even wanted to laugh. But the plushie didn’t dance.

I did it! I mean, it twitched a bit, but that doesn’t count, right?

You didn’t want to do it anymore.

You couldn’t count on Gojo to come help you; but you couldn’t drop Satocchi, either, because it would start breakdancing immediately.

Hmmmm.

An ideia popped up.

You looked down. The heat in your chest… you pulled it. From your chest, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your hands. More energy, more heat. You upped the output. It was tricky, and tiring, and maybe sloppy, but after some effort, your cursed energy enveloped the plushie; like before, it had an eerie black hue that resembled fire. You retracted the energy quickly, afraid that it’d make you exhausted like before.

Tentatively, you let go of the doll.

It rested immovable on the couch.

I did it again!

At last, you got up from the couch.

Your first instinct was to grab your phone and text Gojo how much of a son of a bitch he was. 

But you thought about it.

He said you should work on your cursed energy control regardless of how you felt. And… it worked. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked so well if you weren’t under such pressure.

He was an asshole, but an asshole with good methods.

Ugh.

It was getting quite late. It’d been a while since you cooked for the kids.

After smoking a cig, you headed to the kitchen.

Cooking was a nice activity simply because you could turn your mind off, just focusing on the tasks you had to perform. Wash hands. Wash rice. Put rice in the cooker. Take steak, onion, garlic. Take cutting board. Take knife. It was easy. You usually didn’t allow your mind to wander to unwanted places while you cooked.

You heard the front door opening. After a while, Fushiguro entered the kitchen.

He wore the usual dark uniform. The boy seemed a bit tired, given the circles under his eyes and hunched back.

He looked surprised to find you there.

“Welcome home,” you said absent mindedly. Fushiguro replied with a quiet hi.

You heard him open the fridge behind you. You just kept cutting the meat in thin slices.

“Were you on a mission?” You asked, once again, absent mindedly. 

“Training.” His tone was still quiet.

“Hm.” Some seconds of silence. “You must be hungry, then.”

Fushiguro didn’t answer.

You heard the sound of water being poured in a cup. He drank it there, in the kitchen, behind you. After a while, he left.

Two minutes later, he came back.

You were busy chopping onions. Once more, you noticed him opening the fridge… then a cabinet. He was just… there.

Fushiguro so obviously wanted to say something.

He was orbiting around you, as if gathering courage.

Saying anything would embarrass him. So you just went on with your task, pretending to not notice.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Fushiguro stepped closer.

It seemed that he was ready to say it–

Mayu stormed into the kitchen.

She bumped her hip on yours, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ooooh. What are you cooking?”

“Gyudon.” 

Mayu let another excited ooooooh. “D’you want help?”

She had a really nice habit of offering help in the kitchen (though she hated doing the dishes. Mayu didn’t complain about doing it since you moved here, however. Being in someone else’s house put her in place. Or your constant scoldings, whatever). You thought for two seconds. 

“I think I’m gonna prepare some cabbage, too. Can you cut it for me?”

“Okaaay.” Mayu walked towards the fridge.

Fushiguro was on the way.

They sent each other death stares in silence. 

He stepped aside to let her pass. Fushiguro messed his own hair; after sending you a last weird glance — he didn’t expect you’d be watching, it seemed, by the way his ears flushed — he, at last, left the kitchen with a grumpy pout.

Oh.

You wanted to know what he was going to say.

Mayu took a second cutting board and positioned herself by your side. The kitchen island was so big that the two of you could cook side by side without bumping on each other. So different from your tiny, egg sized kitchen. Whenever one of you decided to cook in your apartment, the other had to step away, otherwise you’d freaking argue.

It was silent for a few seconds. Only the quiet crunch of knives slicing vegetables against a cutting board.

“You should try being nicer with Fushiguro,” you said quietly. Mayu groaned.

“Why don’t you tell him to be nicer with me?” Her voice was already venomous. Your first instinct was to knock her head with the knife handle. Calm down. Be adult.

“Because we’re intimate. I don’t have that freedom to talk about these things with him.” A few seconds of crunch crunch and thud thud. “Also. Because we’re in his house, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, come on. He has the right to be an asshole with me just because I’m in his house? I didn’t come here ‘cause I wanted to.” You knew Mayu wasn’t directing those words to you, but that felt like a punch in the gut nevertheless. You played it off cool, though. “What is this? A dictatorship? I’m not gonna be quiet if someone’s being mean to me, it doesn’t matter who it is or where I am.”

Okay.

She had a very fair point.

You couldn’t even argue with her on this matter. You taught her to be like that.

Crunch crunch. Thud thud. Your eyes were burning a little because of the onion. You started to peel garlic.

“Okay. But I’m not saying you should try being his friend. Just be nicer for the sake of coexistence.” The garlic you unpeeled was moldy. You grimaced and threw it in the trash before taking a new one. “Sometimes it’s socially acceptable for you to be kinda fake. Do you think I like everyone I work with? Do you think I love every patient that comes to me? Of course not.” Crunch crunch. Thud thud. You frowned. “Like… like Umi.”

Your face twisted in a disgusted grimace as if you’d slurped a lemon at the mere mention of her name. Mayu giggled.

“The nurse?”

“Yeah.” The way you unpeeled the garlic became more aggressive. “Do you think I like her annoying voice or how freakin’ inconvenient she is? Or the way she barges into conversations without being called? Or— or the way she doesn’t know how to pluck her eyebrows? God, I fucking hate her eyebrows.” Mayu giggled again. “I don’t. But when she says good morning, I say good morning. When she says the weather’s nice today, I say yeah and go on about my day. Got it?” Another garlic. “I’m not gonna be her friend, but I’m not gonna treat her like shit, because I want peace. I spend most of my time in that hospital, what would my life become if I argued with everyone I dislike?”

Mayu nodded. It seemed she was taking what you said in consideration, at least.

“Mrreow.”

You looked down.

Countess had finally felt the smell of the meat you’d been cutting. She stood near the kitchen island, looking up expectantly with that ugly face.

“Nothing for you here, fat ass.” You said in somewhat of a hiss. Mayu shocked her hip on yours again, more aggressively.

“Don’t be mean to her!”

You looked down at the cat again. She eyed you with contempt. “I tolerate her too, see? I feed her and let her in my house because of you, but I don’t like her.” Mayu rolled her eyes and groaned. “Now take her out of here, you know I don’t like cats in the kitchen.”

Mayu crouched down and carried that miniature cow out of the room to feed her. How she didn’t break her back with the effort was a mystery.

You finished cooking in peace.

Gyudon, stir fried cabbage with carrot, ocha. You and Mayu sat down in the tatami room to eat. You tentatively texted Fushiguro to have dinner (because you didn’t feel comfortable to yell for him to come downstairs), though you already expected he wouldn’t want to dine with the two of you, and he really didn’t. It seems he was paying attention to everything up there, though, because not even three minutes after Mayu left, he came downstairs. Fushiguro dined in the kitchen. He muttered a quiet thank you before marching back to his room.

And then you were alone in the kitchen again.

Time to put the pans back in the fridge.

You paused.

A memory rang in your ears.

Why didn’t you make a bento for me, too?

Hm.

Truth is. You knew he was being a jealous manchild, but you felt bad for not making a bento for him that day. The thought didn’t even cross your mind, actually.

There was still plenty of food.

Hmm.

It wasn’t hard to find that big lunch box in the cabinet — the one that looked big enough to store food for an army. You filled it with gyudon to the brim. If he doesn’t want it, I can just eat it tomorrow, you thought while trying not to feel like an idiot. I can share it with Remi.

You grabbed your phone from the back pocket.

you: are you actually busy or did you just lie?

You didn’t even have time to drop the phone.

Gojo Satoru: I’m busyyyyy ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა

Gojo Satoru: Last minute meeting with higher ups :P or some bullshit

Gojo Satoru: Also don’t call me a liar I never lie (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for some seconds. You didn’t know what to say.

Fuck it.

you: i made a bento for you

you: not that you deserve it

And then you put the phone on the kitchen island, screen down, as if it burned, and waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

He usually didn’t take that long to reply. He probably had his phone in his hand, judging by how fast he typed back. 

Shit.

There’s still time to delete the text.

Yeah. Delete it. I’m just gonna eat it with Remi—

“Oooooown!”

You shrieked.

The phone almost flew from your hands. You stumbled back, your voice echoed around the house, you felt about to spit your heart out.

Gojo just smiled.

You put your hand over your chest, feeling your thundering heart.

“What the fuck?!” Was all you could breathe out.

Steps upstairs.

“What happened?!” Mayu screamed from the top of the stairs.

“Just a cockroach!” Gojo replied before you could. He looked very, very entertained.

She mumbled something — too far to be listenable — but didn’t come downstairs.

He was still smiling.

You always forgot that son of a bitch could teleport and he simply never used the front doors. He came from the backyard where the house’s anchor — the old tree — remained. Sneaked behind you.

“Stop doing that!” You whined angrily. “I almost died!”

“I almost died when I read your text!” Gojo grabbed his jacket where the heart is dramatically. “I mean— a bento for me? What must’ve happened to make you grace me with such kindness?!”

You crossed your arms. Your heart still beat furiously. “I don’t know either, ‘cause you don’t deserve it. Seriously.”

Gojo pouted. He knew what you were referring yourself to. “Aw, come on! It worked, didn’t it? Otherwise Mayu-chan would be freaking out about some possessed bunny.” He looked so proud of himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Weren’t you in a meeting, though?”

“They can wait.” Gojo opened the lunchbox excitedly. His mouth formed a perfect shocked “o”. “How did you know I love gyudon?”

“Everybody loves gyudon.”

“Oooh. And what’s for dessert?” If looks could kill, he would’ve dropped dead. “Just kidding! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is reeeeally nice!” 

That giant albino man, all giddy over a lunchbox.

It didn’t look like he was lying.

You ignored how that made your heart feel.

He closed the lid again. “Unfortunately for you, I gotta go before they notice I left. Where’s Satocchi, by the way?”

You had forgotten about the plushie. Quickly, you went to retrieve it where you had left on the couch; when you entered the kitchen once again, a smug expression covered your features.

“You said I’m really bad at this, right? Well, if I was this bad, I wouldn’t have made it—“

Immediately, you interrupted yourself.

You thought Gojo would appreciate your efforts. Joke about your cockiness, even. But he yanked the plushie from your hands. 

He wasn’t smiling.

“Did you exorcize Satocchi?”

You looked at him in confused silence.

“What?”

“You exorcized him?”

Oh shit. He wasn’t pranking. Uneasiness hit you. “I… well, I didn’t know how to make it stop dancing, and I had to drop it anyway, so…”

Wait.

Wait.

He said exorcise. 

As if it wasn’t just a weird plushie. As if it was somehow— somehow—

Gojo giggled. It wasn’t his usual amused, sarcastic or joyful giggle — it was that kind of laughter that comes when your body doesn’t know what to do because you’re too nervous.

Gojo was nervous.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. “Fuck. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me.”

What?

Your stomach dropped.

“You mean that thing was alive?!” You pointed at the plushie nervously.

“What’d you think?! I said it’s a cursed corpse! It was filled with cursed energy!”

And then you were desperate.

“Oh my God. But why— why did you give it to me in the first place?! Nullifying cursed energy is ‘the’ thing I do!”

“The gloves, Mori. That’s why I gave ‘em. You were supposed to envelop your body, not the doll.”

“But I—“

You looked at the plushie in his hands. It wasn’t even that ugly, now that you paid attention… it was kind of cute… its button eyes were lifeless, its sewn little mouth that was nothing more than a black line pointing down…

And now you wanted to fucking cry.

“I killed him!” Realization hit you like a truck. You covered your mouth with both hands in pure shock. “I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to—“

Gojo looked at your watery eyes, frowning.

“Are you actually going to cry?”

Yeah. You were.

Now he was laughing.

Laughing. Cackling. Gojo bent over as if his stomach hurt. He laughed and laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You wanted to throw the nearest object on his fucking head. Unfortunately, it was a knife.

“Holy shit— you’re crying!”

“I’m not crying!” No tear had streamed down your face yet. The tears had retreated because you wanted to kill him. “So this was all a prank?!”

“No—“ Gojo heaved. “No, I’m serious, you exorcised it. This was a cursed corpse. It was alive, sort of.”

And you wanted to cry again.

“I’m sorry—“

He was cackling again.

You didn’t know if you should apologize, or try to explain yourself, or get angry and say that it was his fault because he left you alone with Satocchi and didn’t explain things that well, or cry, or smack Gojo’s head — so you did everything, going through all the stages of grief in a two minutes.

You hadn’t even realized Fushiguro had entered the kitchen. His excuse was to take a cup of water but you were sure he was curious about the noise. He eyed your expression, and Gojo’s flushed cheeks due to laughter, and then Satocchi—

“One of Principal Masamichi’s dolls?” he asked with confusion.

You’d been sad, angry, frustrated, regretful… and now you were scared. 

“T-The Principal?” The black haired boy nodded.

The man that was almost two meters tall. A pile of muscle. The constant grimace of a movie-like Yakuza leader. And he didn’t even like you that much.

You killed his doll.

Shit.

Two seconds before, you wanted to cry. Now, you wanted to flee the fucking country.

“C’mon, Momorin, it ain’t that serious…” Gojo heaved, regaining his breath and his porture. You turned around to face him with a face that was half angry and half frightened.

“How is it not serious?! He’s gonna kill me!” And you hadn’t even stopped to think of why the hell a man that old and big had a dancing doll to begin with and how funny that was.

“No, he won’t.” Gojo lifted the blindfold up his forehead absently. Seeing his eyes completely unobstructed always made you shut up for some reason. He blinked rapidly and passed his thumb down his waterline. “Shit, I even cried a little.” A last giggle. Finally, he looked at you. “Relax, okay? This thing was under my responsibility anyway.”

You put your hands on your waist awkwardly. “...But I feel bad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re cute. But you don’t need to feel that bad over this.”

Something inside you simultaneously froze and heated up at the same time.

Cute.

Fushiguro’s footsteps walked out of the kitchen, but you barely registered it.

Cute, he said. Gojo called me cute.

And he said it so naturally, too.

He didn’t look embarrassed to have said it. 

Okay.

“Now… I really gotta go–”

“Wait.” You said, lifting a finger. Gojo watched you run to the other side of the kitchen and open a cabinet. Promptly, you came back holding an black insulated bag and placed the lunchbox inside it. “I bet you don’t wanna eat it cold.”

Gojo watched you quietly.

He still hadn’t put the blindfold down.

The lip tightened smile was still there. You wanted to imagine that it was because of how bad he laughed just two minutes prior. Gojo was a smiley person anyway. 

But there was that look in his eyes, too.

The one that looked dangerously like endearment.

You felt heat creeping up your nape. It didn’t have anything to do with cursed energy. 

“What?” You asked, because what else could you ask?

He smirked a bit, making the dimple on the right side of his cheek peak. One second. Two seconds.

“Nothing.” 

At last, Gojo covered his eyes with the blindfold once again.

He took the bag with the lunchbox over the counter.

“Thank you again, Mori! Can’t wait to eat this! If it tastes bad, I’ll let you know too, by the way!”

It was so easy for him to slip back into this persona.

You snorted.

“It doesn’t taste bad. Don’t disrespect me.”

“That we’ll see.” 

Gojo started to make his way out of the kitchen. You watched as he eyed Satocchi in his hand once more – your heart twinged with remorse – and shook his head slowly.

“I’m fucked.” He mumbled under his breath in a tone that, once again, sounded way too nervous.

You didn’t see it when he teleported away, but for the first time, you felt it. The absence of that tune – that frequency that played whenever he was around.

You leaned your hip on the counter and reflected for some moments.

Gojo’s eyes on you.

There was something going on.

Something you couldn’t – or didn’t want to – name. Couldn’t quite decipher yet. Maybe you were scared to do so. 

But it was there. 

It was getting increasingly harder to ignore it.

But…

Now now.

A/N: this is like the third time our girl said "not now". how long until she's finally FORCED to address the TWO elephants in the room she's been ignoring?? - TRAINING MONTAGE!!! honestly!! i had to think real hard about the satocchi stuff. bc i thought gojo using the cursed dolls to train ppl before yuji sounded accurate and cute. BUT i remembered that i had established that MC's technique nullifies C/E upon touching them, so i was like uhhhh. this ain't gonna work. then the gloves came!! satocchi is programmed to stop moving when it feels C/E, not by having it put INTO him like what yuji did. sorta like standing near a stove. you feel the heat but isn't burned. yk??? does it make sense??? I'M TRYING TO RESPECT THE MAGIC SYSTEM!! - another pretty domestic chapter! we're slowly making our way into making this awkward bunch into a family!! how long will things remain this calm, tho?? I DON'T KNOW!! AS USUAL, comments are MUCH MUCH MUCH appreciated! reading your thoughts on the story ALWAYS make my day. i'm SO SERIOUS. even when i'm not that active, seeing that my inbox has a new comment makes my DAY! NEXT CHAPTER - the training will progress!! the elephants will take more space in the room!! See you <3

[maggotmuncher0]

some doodles before my exams!

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 10

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 10k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

As funny as it sounds, the SNIPERS SHOOTING CLUB! was, in fact, like. A club.

After your third visit, you became an official member. Michio proudly gave you a round pin with the club logo on it. He even explained that there were monthly tournaments and you could participate; there was a fee, of course, and awards that ranged from a pack of beer to an all-paid dinner at a famous Korean barbecue house. You got curious, though, because Michio talked about the competition thing in the corner, while Gojo was in the bathroom.

He smiled sheepishly and explained in a quiet, hushed voice:

“Satoru always participated, you see. And he always won every tournament by a lot. So… the other club members started to get disheartened to participate.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “The tournament fees are a big part of the club’s income. I… am not very proud of saying this, but for my own sake, I had to ban Satoru from participating. Otherwise no one else would want to compete.” He got one step closer and lowered his voice. “But he doesn’t know that he’s banned, so… hum… it’d be kind of you if you kept this a secret.”

You had to laugh.

On your fourth visit, it already felt like routine.

Gojo would pop up. You’d drive to the shooting club (that was about twenty minutes away from home), practice for one hour, drive back home, Gojo would leave. He was busy; you were busy. That was the most free time both of you had anyway. 

On the evening of the fourth visit, though, Gojo decided to deviate the route a bit. He kept whining about how he had this disease called the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease and as you were a doctor it was your responsibility to take care of it and if he died of that disease it would be yoooooour fault.

So you stopped at an okonomiyaki restaurant, of course.

It wasn’t a fancy place, and it looked like it’d been here for ages, judging by the yellowed posters on the walls that looked like they were placed in the 2000’s and the amount of older customers. That’s how you know food’s good. The smells immediately made your belly rumble as if you had contracted the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease as well. Gojo was giggly, and excited, and kept wiggling from side to side like a fucking kid, and he honest to God would not shut up. He had let go of the jacket, exposing the (already usual) light blue dress shirt underneath. It was a bit of a funny contrast to see him dressed like a businessman on lunch break while acting like a boy.

Cute is what your mind kept repeating like a mantra, even though you wanted to ignore it.

Cute cute cute cute cute.

The waitress thought he was cute, too.

Obviously. How couldn’t she, when his smiles were so effortless and pretty, when his dimples said hi whenever he smiled, when happiness and excitement looked so good on him? How could she not blush, stutter and unconsciously put a strand of hair behind her ear?

You understood her. Truly, you did.

She was pretty and young, too.

Hm.

Food arrived. Gojo ate his first okonomiyaki, then two, then three. He kept hmmmm-ing at every bite. It was nice, you thought, to be around him in times like these; to talk about irrelevant things, like the film he watched last night (Sharknado 3, he said, calling it an “underrated masterpiece”), or about the new nurse you kinda had a feud with (“I know she doesn’t like me, I just can’t prove it yet”), to how the two of you were obsessed with Need For Speed Underground II when you were younger.

It felt so nice. Just two normal friends having lunch together. Talking about useless things, common interests, laughing at fun stuff.

Normal.

You had a 9mm inside your purse, though.

There was nothing normal about that.

The latent fear within yourself wasn’t normal, either. Your mind knew you were safe with Gojo; your body didn’t. It felt anxious in ways you couldn’t control. It kept getting startled at every movement the other customers did, even if they were mostly elders. 

This fear kept reminding you that your life — your existence — wasn’t normal.

So unfortunately, you had to talk about the abnormal things with the abnormal guy, although you’d rather not bring the mood down.

You waited until dessert arrived, at least.

Gojo asked for pudding (the large one, supposed to serve two people, but he wanted it all to himself). You settled for the small serving. How Gojo still had space in his stomach for more food was a mystery. His hmmmmmm’s!! became more aggressive. He really really liked sweets, huh?

You took two bites and cleared your throat.

His eyes immediately shot up to your face. You could see them over the glasses.

He already knew what that meant.

“So.” You began. You massaged the smooth surface of the pudding with the back of the spoon to busy your nervous hands. “The training’s been nice. I think I’m pretty good at it already.”

“Slow down, sweetheart.” His mouth was full, making him look like a squirrel. “You just started training with moving targets.”

“Yeah— but I’m pretty good at shooting, right?”

“Uh-huh. If your opponent stands still waiting to be shot, sure.”

The angry glare you sent him made him giggle. Little shit.

“Okay! I know I need to train more.” You pouted. The sane part of you realized that was ridiculous, so you ate a bit more pudding to mask that. Pouting? I’m someone that pouts now? I’m spending too much time with him. “But that’s not where I’m trying to get.”

“So where are you trying to get to?”

“I’ll get there if you let me talk.” Another pissed glare. Another amused giggle from him. “What about. You know. My technique?”

He took another spoonful. Albino squirrel. “What about it?”

“I still don’t know what to do with it at all.” You started to shake your leg nervously under the table. Shit, that’s embarrassing. “I thought… well… I thought—“

“You thought the Great Teacher Gojo Satoru would be training you already?”

Ugh.

You hated his smug expression. You hated how that’d just boost his already stratospheric ego.

But it was true.

Being completely honest, you thought after the “test” on the haunted house, he had made up his mind on teaching you. You thought it was already settled, like an unspoken deal. However… it’d already been almost a month and Gojo never even touched the subject.

You kind of sunk on the seat, resting your cheek on your palm, eyes glued on the pudding.

“…I mean.” You shrugged.

You braced yourself to what would follow.

“Oooow!” Sarcastic little shit. His eyes gleamed. He held his face with both hands, forcing a cute expression that you wanted to punch. “No need to act shy, Momorin! Everybody wants the honor to be taught by the strongest sorcerer alive! It’d be weird if you weren’t squirming with excitement, in fact!”

“I’m not squirming.” You kicked his shin under the table. He giggled viciously. “Be serious for a moment!”

“I aaaam being serious.” One more spoonful of pudding. He pointed at you with the spoon lazily afterwards. “I ain’t forget about that, sweetheart. But you’re in a complicated position, remember? You shouldn’t be receiving training. I have to be careful about how I’ll do it.” Okay. Fair. He had a point. “Also – I think you have more important things to deal with before we jump to the real stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Your anxiety.”

You froze.

His lazy smile was still there. His intelligent blue eyes analyzing you; the glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose slightly. You could kinda see them.

That felt like he had thrown a bucket of ice over your head.

There it was again— this thing about Gojo that made it so strange, yet instigating to be around him. Gojo was acting like a giant fool until that moment. Like a manchild. Babbling, giggling, moving like a hyperactive kid, humming loud as hell because he loooooved pudding and he was soooo obsessed with Tekken 5 back then and how he won a bunch of tournaments at an arcade when he was a kid because he’s soooo awesome at everything he does.

But now he was staring at you — and you knew he was seeing you, seeing inside of you, seeing through you. The stuff you so carefully were trying to hide. The quick glances around, how you tried to busy your hands so no one would notice your fingertips shaking a bit, how you smoked more cigarettes than usual to try to calm your system down. The things you didn’t open up to anyone, because that was unlike you. You were terrified of being a burden, of bringing anyone too much trouble — especially to Gojo, because you knew how much he was already doing for you. You didn’t want to be a reason for worry.

Gojo was seeing it nevertheless.

It wasn’t just about his supernatural blue eyes. It was about how much attention he was paying to everything around him; to you, even though he was great at hiding it behind a mask of nonchalance and playfulness.

It’d be on brand for you to try to brush it off. To say something snarky and witty, try to deviate his attention elsewhere. But there was no point in lying, was there? You knew he would see the truth in you anyways. 

So you just avoided his gaze again, feeling your shoulders shrink unintentionally.

Your brain realized that you were pouting again a second too late.

“Ooooow!” Shut up!! Shut up!! “You’re acting way too cute today, Momorin!”

“Don’t embarrass me even more!” you whined, biting one more angry spoonful of pudding. Your neck, nape and face felt hot. Gojo giggled again.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed of. It’s normal to be anxious when you’re being hunted. I mean— it’s normal to normal people, heh, ‘cause I—“ he straightened his back like a proud peacock and smirked. “—I ain’t ever felt anxious over this type of thing.”

“Wow. How inspiring.” The pudding tasted sour in your tongue. Wasn’t he the one who loved to brag all the time about being the strongest or whatever the fuck? You doubted he could understand you. “Who would be dumb enough to try to hunt the strongest guy around?”

“A whole lotta people since I came out of my mother’s womb.”

That made you pause.

Gojo ate more pudding. He stated that so quickly. So naturally. 

“You serious?”

“Yep!” He swallowed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this pretty head of mine on a silver platter?”

He was playful as usual. But the more you thought about it… your frown deepened.

“People were hunting you when you were a child?”

Gojo nodded.

Your stomach dropped.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment. You can’t obtain a technique… you have to be born with it. So since he was a toddler… since he was a baby…?

“Again— I knooow you love talking about me, because I’m such an interesting and amusing person,” you rolled your eyes. “but right now you’re the topic! We’re talking about your little problem.”

At that moment, though, you in fact wanted to talk about him. That piece of information was shocking. For the first time, you realized that, at the same time Gojo talked about himself all the time, he barely talked about himself; about what actually mattered. The silly stuff? He’d talk about it for hours. What he ate, what movies he watched, a joke he learned, this especially ugly person he saw on the subway or the stinky dog he petted on the street. He texted the whole day, sent photos in real time. Whenever you took your phone from your locker in the dressing room, it’d be packed with notifications from him.

But what about his job? What he did on his work trips? His classes, his students? His parents, friends, family? His past?

Gojo didn’t talk about any of that. Ever.

You had to learn through Ijichi that he was a member of an important jujutsu clan, after all, because he didn’t bother telling you. Gojo wasn’t just a sorcerer-teacher-whatever the way you thought — the way he didn’t try to make you think otherwise.

This man was an important part of your everyday life. At the moment, he had become your closest friend, simply because you couldn’t talk about your real problems with any of your friends anymore, not even with Mayu. And yet — you barely knew him.

This had to change.

But not now, clearly, as Gojo was so quick to change topics as soon as you got even close to talking about his childhood.

You rested your chin on your palm. “What do you want me to do? Take anxiolytics?" 

“Pfft. No.” He shook his head. Gojo’s pudding was almost over. He scooped a bunch of syrup from the plate and ate it heartily. “I want you to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“Well. I am anxious because I’m paying too much attention to everything.” Your leg started to shake as if to make a point. “I can’t relax.”

“No, you ain’t paying attention. You’re looking from side to side like a scared mouse.” He licked the spoon. Distracting. This time, his eyes were on you, not on the plate. “You’re not locking your attention on what actually matters.”

Gojo scooped more syrup from the plate. Instead of defending yourself like you’d usually do, you decided to listen.

“For example…” He licked the spoon again. His eyes were back on the plate. “That dude with the red jacket sitting near the front doors you’ve been eyeing the whole time.”

You froze.

Gojo wasn’t even looking at him. In fact, you didn’t even remember catching him looking that way.

You gulped.

“I— I thought I was being discreet,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. Gojo chuckled in response.

“Oh, you were. He isn’t.” It was true. The man, looking to be around his fifties, stole quick glances at your table all the time, which made you get more and more anxious. “And that’s the thing, see? He’s being obvious. But that uncle isn’t targeting you, he’s just being a man.”

You felt your nape getting hot with his implication. 

“And then there’s that other woman sitting behind us.” Once again, Gojo didn’t look back while he talked, more focused on taking every lasting drop of caramel syrup from his plate, but you felt even more embarrassed; you were focusing on her as well. She looked across the table to where you were all the time, zapping her eyes from her phone to your location constantly and making you nervous. “Well… she’s just being a woman.”

He wiggled his eyebrows smugly. You scrunched your nose in a grimace. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“What? I’m hot! It can’t be helped! Women will gawk at me, either you like it or not. But don’t worry, darling, I only have eyes for you.” He spoke that intentionally louder, intentionally dramatic, loud enough so that the woman behind you and the dude in red could hear, simultaneously making them avoid their gazes (they were paying attention) and you giggle in a mix of embarrassment and endearment.

Gojo finally looked up at you again, leaning a bit closer in your direction.

“What I mean with all this, Mori, is that when someone actually pops up targeting you – because that will happen sooner or later –, it’s not gonna be obvious like that.” His voice dropped. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose; you could see them. He still smiled a little bit, but it was different: mysterious. You knew what that tone, that expression meant. Gojo wasn’t playing. He meant every word. It was one of those moments when he looked wise in a way that seemed unfitting to someone his age. It almost looked like authority, in a way.

That was a man that knew what the fuck he was talking about.

He had your full attention.

“When a skilled curse user cross your path… it ain’t gonna be like in the movies. Some spy wearing a trench coat, dark shades and a fedora hat.” You giggled briefly at the idea. He couldn’t help himself but joking a little, even when he was being serious. “They’ll be silent. They will know how to creep around you without being noticed. It ain’t gonna be sudden, either. Maybe they’ll be creeping for days… weeks… making you feel used to their presence. Waiting ‘til you have your guard down.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Uhm… none of the people that came after me ‘til now were that silent.” Not at all. Both attempted kidnappings happened in broad daylight, with a bunch of possible witnesses and literal media coverage.

“That’s why I said skilled curse users.” His voice dropped even lower. He leaned a bit closer. “Truth is… you might not even notice what’s happening until it’s too late.”

His words sunk in. The air around you felt heavier, more difficult to breathe.

“What should I do?” You asked.

Gojo scooped a little bit of caramel that still remained on the plate. “If you ain’t gonna see them,” He licked the spoon. Distractiiiing. He pointed at you with the now clean spoon. “You gotta sense them.”

“How?”

“People like us accumulate cursed energy, some much more than others. Regardless of how vast one’s energy reserves are, it is always possible to feel that emanating from them in a way a normal person won’t. That’s how you will recognize a threat. That’s how you’ll pinpoint a curse user in the middle of a packed crowd.”

You nodded slowly and crossed your arms. “How can I do that?”

Gojo pouted, poking the back of the spoon on his lips absently. “It’s not that hard. It should feel pretty natural, to be honest. But I guess it won’t feel that way for you, since you awakened your technique much later in life.” He shrugged. “I guess my presence doesn’t make it any easier for you, either. I might be stunting your senses.”

For a second, you thought that he was boasting his own ego again, but it didn’t sound like it.

“In what way?”

Gojo smirked and leaned his head to the side.

“Let’s just say I am too much.”

You pretended to not understand the double meaning there.

You actively decided to ignore it for your own sanity, in fact.

“I don’t get it.” You stated. 

Gojo hummed and straightened his back, leaning on the chair once more. He let go of the spoon and crossed his arms.

“Hmm… lemme try something.”

You frowned a bit. “You’re not gonna make me fight a curse out of nowhere, right? ‘Cause I never trust you when you come with this ‘lemme try something’ talk–”

You froze.

The words you were about to say derailed in your throat. Forgotten. Your eyes widened.

You looked around.

It was silent. Nothing had changed.

But, at the same time–

“So?” Gojo eyed you with much interest. 

You blinked several times. 

“I… I can’t…”

He smiled. Gojo already knew what you meant.

Thankfully so, because you couldn’t even begin to explain what you were feeling.

Or rather not feeling. 

That was precisely it: the absence of feeling. The lack of something that was there all along; like someone had pulled a warm blanket from over your body out of nowhere, exposing you to the cold. Like a little, constant note that had been playing in your ears for so long that you hadn’t even noticed it was there, until someone finally turned the radio off.

It was silent.

For the first time in longer than you could even remember, it was silent.

“What did you do?” You finally asked.

“Masked my own cursed energy. Yeah, I was right. I was really stunting your senses. My bad.” Gojo shrugged once again. “How do you feel?”

You gulped. “It’s… quiet.”

He sent you a puzzled look. “That’s an interesting way to put it.” He remarked. “This is how a ‘normal’ environment is supposed to feel. No cursed energy. If there is something, however…”

Gradually.

The tune came back. Low, very low, until its volume was back to what you were used to. The warmth; the blanket being carefully put over your body again. It was back. Except this time, after experiencing its absence, you noticed its presence.

It felt gentle, in a way.

“...it should feel like this,” Gojo continued. “Though weaker. You have to learn how to refine your perception. Very skilled sorcerers know how to mask their cursed energy just like I did. You gotta look for that spark in the darkness; that little light, the perception that something is off. That something that shouldn’t be there is.”

You nodded slowly.

That was mesmerizing.

You had no other way to put it.

Mesmerizing.

It was like you had awakened some sort of sixth sense. Something extraordinary. And yeah — maybe you shouldn’t be that shocked; you had enough time to let everything regarding jujutsu sink in. The fact that this hidden society existed, that your hallucinations were real, that a person could possess super human powers. But quite honestly, until that moment, you still hadn’t felt different. Yes, you exorcized a curse willingly at the haunted house; but even then, it didn’t feel that you were doing much. You hadn’t felt extraordinary.

At that moment, as you finally sensed Gojo’s cursed energy — or the lack of it —, something clicked inside your head.

You weren’t a normal person thrown into a foreign world. You were part of it. This world just felt foreign because you had entered it later in life. 

For the first time, you didn’t just come to terms that you had to learn how to use your technique; you felt… excited about it.

And maybe Gojo noticed that, too, given the little smile on his lips. It wasn’t his usual flippant smirk. You avoided his gaze, focusing on what little remained of your pudding. You didn’t want to deal with the expression that looked dangerously like endearment. You didn’t want to acknowledge how that made you feel.

Not at that moment.

In the end, the only thing that came from your mouth was a frustrated groan when Gojo lifted his hand out of nowhere and said:

“Waitress! Can you bring me one more pudding?”

Goddamnit.

You had imagined how the training would go.

Granted, the fault was on your fertile imagination. I mean, what else comes to mind when someone says training? To yours, the view of Goku and Gohan exchanging blows in the Time Room came as clear as day. Yoda hanging from Luke’s back on a swamp planet. You even imagined Gojo going jacket on! Jacket off! Pick up the jacket!! 

In other words, you thought it’d be cool.

Him sitting on the sofa holding a bunny plushie didn’t look cool.

You were rotting in bed on your day off, mindlessly scrolling in your phone, when a text of his popped up: super incredible sensational jujutsu training with great teacher Gojo Satoru begins TODAY!!!! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ and that was more than enough to make you jump off the bed and take the pajamas off. You panicked for two seconds, thinking, should I put on gymwear?, but you imagined he would’ve told you so if it was needed, so you settled for something comfortable and light — a simple white t-shirt and black jogger pants — before leaving your room.

You didn’t expect he’d already be sitting there in the living room.

Gojo wore his usual uniform. Today, instead of the bandages covering his eyes, the black blindfold. It didn’t look like he was ready to get up, though, judging by the way he was so relaxed, sitting with his legs spread open like that.

You stood at the entrance and looked at him awkwardly.

He probably had been sitting there for a while. He probably heard you jumping off the bed and rushing to get changed. 

That was a bit embarrassing.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly.

Gojo smiled. “You look excited!”

Ugh.

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

His smile widened. Dimples. “That’s the spirit!”

You walked into the living room tentatively. “So… where is this training going to happen?”

“Right here!”

You stopped on your tracks, frowning.

“...Here?”

“Yep!”

“But Mayu’s home.” It was Sunday, after all.

“Won’t be a problem!”

That was a bit disappointing. Half of your excitement vanished.

“Here’s your training buddy, by the way!”

And then he lifted the plushie, holding it with both hands as if he was handing you a cat.

The thing was… creepy.

It was a floppy white bunny. Yeah, it sounds cute, but this plushie was all battered up as if an angry kid used it to unleash all of their anger on it, dragging it by the leg and beating it on the walls repeatedly. The legs, arms and ears were all comically long. It had two buttons as eyes, the left one being bigger than the other, in purple and yellow.

Gojo peeked his head from behind the plushie, still smiling.

“I picked him so you can think of me while you train!” You just kept looking at him in silent confusion. Gojo seemed disappointed that you didn’t get what he meant. “Uh, white bunny? Cinnamorroll? Duh-huh?”

“Oh.” Jesus. You had forgotten about the merch you bought him. You quirked one eyebrow. “Cinnamorroll is a dog, though.”

The smile vanished from his lips.

He dropped his arms down his lap again, so it looked like the plushie was sitting there, its head flopped down in disappointment. You could see the outline of his furrowed brows under the blindfold. “A dog?”

“Yeah.” 

Gojo thought about it for two seconds. “That’s awful character design.”

“Uh-huh.” You approached him, standing near the couch, and motioned to touch the plushie. “So… what am I going to do with it–?”

Gojo shifted, yanking the plushie away from your reach. “Nuh-huh! Put the gloves on first!”

“Gloves–?” He pointed at it with his chin.

You turned around to see a pair of thick grey gloves over the coffee table. Like, really thick gardening gloves. These too looked old, clearly bigger than your hand size. 

Again – weird.

But you decided not to question it. You put the gloves on anyway. Gojo moved to the side, giving you space to sit down, and so you did. 

“Now, as I was saying, Satocchi will be your training buddy from now on.” 

“Excuse me– Satocchi?”

“Yup.” He grinned cheekily. “I mean, that’s practically my twin!”

You rolled your eyes. He giggled. A part of you was giggling, too, but fuck that part. Gojo at last handed you the plushie, which you held awkwardly in those big, uncomfortable gloves.

“Will there be any further explanation or I’ll have to figure out what to do–?”

The bunny jumped.

It fucking jumped.

You jumped, too, shrieking, shocking your back against the couch, pulling your legs off the ground too and gluing them to your chest because what the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! The thing moved?! It’s moving?! It’s– it’s–

Breakdancing?!

You watched, eyes widened, heart racing, as the bunny was literally, without any exaggeration, b-boying over the coffee table, moving like a human being without emitting a sound or music.

Gojo cackled.

He threw his head back, laughing at the top of his lungs. You just kept watching the creature without batting an eye.

You heard rushed steps up there.

“What happened?!” Mayu asked from the top of the stairs. You panicked. What if she comes down and sees this?!

“Nothing!” You screamed back. “A– A cockroach!”

“A cursed corpse!” Gojo screamed at the same time as you. You aggressively threw a cushion on his face, to which he deflected with ease and laughed harder.

“A cockroach!” You screamed louder this time. “Just a cockroach!”

“Ew!” You heard Mayu saying up there… and her steps back to her room.

Thank God.

Your head whipped in Gojo’s direction again. “Make it stop!” You hissed.

“No, you have to make it stop.” He was still laughing.

“How the fuck–?” You looked at it again. The plushie was moonwalking. You shivered. 

Finally, Gojo moved.

He leaned closer to the table. Took the plushie by the ears; the moment his hand touched it, the thing stopped moving. Flopped, lifeless once again.

He turned to you. The laughter had finally died down, but he still held a very entertained smile there.

“Satocchi right here is programmed to stop moving when it feels cursed energy. If you don’t put that to work, it’ll dance.”

Oh.

You eyed him, and the plushie, and him.

You didn’t want to touch that thing. Not at all.

“I don’t know how to do that.” You gulped.

“You do! You just don’t know that you do. But it’s intuitive. It ain’t something complicated to do, but like I said before, you’re unaware of it because your technique awakened late.” Slowly you sat like a normal person again because Gojo was going into his wise mode. Oh, so he’s not playing. This is serious. “Tell me; the moments you used your cursed energy, even if unconsciously, how did you feel?”

You thought about it.

When you were kidnapped, wrapped in paper tags (seals) and managed to free yourself with black “flames”; when you “fought” against the frog-like curse at the haunted house; or even that little curse you accidentally stepped on. The thing you felt during all of those situations was…

“Anger.” You stated. “I was angry… and it happened.” 

Gojo nodded. “And how did you feel afterwards?”

You thought about it again. “…Very tired. Like… my legs.” You gesticulated awkwardly towards them. “Feel heavy as if I’d run a marathon.”

Gojo nodded again. “That’s because you’ve just been bursting cursed energy without any control over it. And that sucks, ‘cause you’re burning your supply all at once; it’s impractical, because you’ll see yourself without cursed energy to use, and it takes a tool on your body.” He pointed at you. “Your cursed energy control is bad. Like, bad in ways that baffle me. Again— I think it’s because your technique awakened very late. Right now, you’re like Ariel when she gained legs, you know? Stumbling around and stuff.” 

You nodded slowly. It hadn’t occurred to you that anything he was saying mattered. So… cursed energy was like gas in the tank and you had to know how to spend it wisely. According to what he said in the restaurant, some people could have a bigger tank than others. Okay. All of that was understandable.

“It means that putting out cursed energy is something as natural as walking?” 

“Yes.” Gojo held the plushie with both hands again. “What I want you to do… is envelop your own body with a very thin layer of cursed energy, enough to make Satocchi sense it, and keep it intact, until you can make it permanent with no effort.”

You nodded again. Cursed energy was like walking… and that plushie was like a walker, because you had never “walked” before. 

He handed you the plushie.

You took it with both hands.

It immediately started dancing. Now that your grip was firm and you were aware that it would move, though, you didn’t let it leap away. The bunny kept wriggling from side to side, legs and arms twitching around (was it dancing to Thriller?!), and it felt the same as trying to hold a hyperactive kitten that clearly didn’t want to be held.

“This is–” you groaned. “–distracting!”

“C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“I don’t–” it almost jumped away. “–I don’t know how!”

“Pull the energy without relying on any emotions.” He was using that whiny tone that was really annoying. “Remember, using cursed energy is like using your legs. It ain’t that hard.”

You looked down at the plushie angrily while it swayed from side to side once more. 

Not relying on emotions.

How did it feel that time in the meat locker with the kidnappers?

You were so angry. You were begging your body to do something. Then… you felt heat in your chest, so bad that you thought you were suffering from cardiac arrest. It had an actual effect on your body, differently from when you stepped on the rat at the hospital or even when you exorcised the frog-like curse.

It wasn’t just about emotion. You had pulled a reaction out of yourself, even if unintentionally.

You frowned in concentration.

Try to tap that place again.

My chest.

The heat.

You felt it.

It wasn’t nearly as strong as that time… but it was there nevertheless. That thing you couldn’t name, that was part of you, yet you had never noticed before. 

“Slow,” Gojo said in somewhat of a warning tone. “Go slowly.”

Instinctively, your fingers curled around the plushie with the effort. Less heat. You toned it down. It’s still here, you noticed. Okay. Now pull it. Slowly like he said.

It spread from that tiny point in your chest until you felt it covering all of your ribcage, down to your stomach, up to your shoulders.

“Am I doing the thing?” You asked in a voice strained by effort.

“Yeah, you’re doing the thing.”

Almost at the same time, Satocchi interrupted its impeccable Thriller performance and flopped motionless like a regular plushie doll.

“Ooooh,” you breathed out in a mix of relief and excitement. “It’s–”

Satocchi twitched.

You shut up and focused on pulling the thing again.

Gojo giggled.

“Wow, you’re so bad at this, it almost pisses me off.”

“Shut up–” you felt the heat get stronger without meaning to.

“Uh-uh! Tone it down! Keep the even flow even if you’re angry!” 

Okay. Less heat. 

The plushie stopped moving.

You looked at him angrily.

“It’s my first try, okay?! You’re not being very supportive!”

“Nah, I’m making you mad on purpose so you can train your cursed energy flow while feeling different emotions.” He grinned cockily. “I’m so smart!”

You rolled your eyes. Satocchi twitched again. You focused on it.

“How long do I have to do this?” You asked after a while. “I don’t want Mayu to see it.”

Gojo hummed. You lifted your eyes to him again; he was eyeing his phone, typing something with one hand, while the other arm went to rest on the couch’s backrest comfortably. 

“Now that you mentioned it, how long do you plan on hiding everything from her?” His voice was quieter, a new hint of seriousness and interest there. “‘Cause, you know, you can’t do that forever.”

You immediately grimaced.

“...Do I even have to?” This time, you were the one whining quietly like a kid. Your leg started to shake on instinct. Gojo huffed.

“I mean.” Even though he wore the blindfold, you knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot. Maybe you were an idiot. It was a bit offensive to be considered an idiot by the idiot guy. “Your case won’t get solved that quick, if you hadn’t already noticed. I might even say that things will get more complicated as we progress. It’ll get harder and harder to keep everything from her.”

“It’s not–” Satocchi twitched. You focused on it. It stopped moving. “–that easy.”

“Why not?” You could see the outline of his eyebrow quirking under the blindfold. Each word of his made you more uncomfortable. “Plenty of non-sorcerers know about jujutsu. Government people, cops, sorcerers’ relatives…”

“It’s ‘cause–” The bunny twitched again. You groaned, trying to focus on your cursed energy flow.

It’s because Mayu has already been through enough.

Mayu didn’t have a mother she remembered well. She lost her dad when she was eleven. You brought her back to Japan, a country she was not born in, and even though she luckily adjusted fast and well, you knew it wasn’t an easy change. Mayu dealt with feelings and absences you knew you’d never be able to fulfill, even if you did your best.

You just wanted to offer some stability in her life. Some comfort. Some normalcy.

You never planned to have this strange power awaken out of the blue, to be targeted, to have to learn how to defend yourself, to be taken out of your homes. You hated that Mayu couldn’t go wherever she wanted anymore. The thought that she was in danger because of you was maddening. You didn’t want Mayu to be even more scared or worried; she did not need this heavy of a weight over her shoulders. 

At least, not yet.

“You might think it’s not that deep, but it’s because you were born in this world, okay?” You stated somewhat angrily whilst trying to keep Satocchi immovable. “Neither me or her were. Mayu’s normal. You can’t just come to a normal person and say, look, there are dangerous spiritual creatures lurking around. Also I have supernatural powers and someone wants to get me for whatever reason.”

Gojo snorted again. “It’s what you were told. It’s what everyone who’s involved with jujutsu is told. You get used to it eventually.”

“It’s not–” Even flow even flow even flow. Satocchi stopped moving again. “Look, it’s not like I’ll never tell her. I know I can’t hide things forever. It’s just–” You gulped. “Not now.”

Gojo eyed you in silence for some seconds, expression unreadable. He probably still thought you were an idiot.

“Okay.” He finally said, shrugging. “Well. But if you don’t want her to find out about anything now, you better work on your training very hard.”

You frowned. “What do you mean…?”

Almost as if being summoned, you heard steps up there.

Your back stiffened.

Faster than you could even look back, Mayu jumped over the couch and plopped down between you two.

“So, who’s making the popcorn?” She asked excitedly.

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

Mayu turned to you with confusion. “Ain’t we gonna watch a movie?” She waved her phone lightly. “Blindfold-san said in the groupchat.”

What?!

“Yes!” Gojo exclaimed with excitement. “I just found out that Mayu-chan never watched Gladiator! Like, what have you been teaching this kid, Momorin?! This is unacceptable!”

He stood up in a jump. You hadn’t noticed the DVD case over the coffee table. Mayu sat more comfortably while he turned the TV on.

She eyed your gloves with awkwardness.

“Why the hell are you wearing these?”

Your back was stiff, your arms were stiff, your legs were stiff– you felt the plushie twitching– shit shit shit shit shit–

Even flow! Even flow! Even flow!!

“Gardening.” You said between gritted teeth. “I was gardening.”

She still eyed you like you were a weirdo. “...Okay.”

The Universal Studios logo filled the screen. Gojo ran back to sit on the couch. 

He’s not doing this to me.

He’s not fucking doing this to me.

You couldn’t move. Panic filled your system. Mayu was right there. If the plushie moved a centimeter– if your flow weakened just a bit– there’s no way she wouldn’t see it. 

“And this plushie?”

You froze even more than what you were already frozen.

“It’s a gift from me!” Gojo had the decency to at least intervene this time.

She scrunched her nose. “It’s so fugly.”

“Don’t talk about Satocchi like that.” Gojo pouted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“The movie.” You groaned in a sound similar to the cry of a wild animal that was caught in a trap. “Pay attention to the– movie.”

She paid attention to the goddamn movie.

Even flow even flow even flow even flow–

Four minutes into the film, Gojo whined very dramatically. Your head whipped in his direction.

“Waaah… something urgent popped up outta nowhere! I gotta go solve it!”

You son of a fucking bitch–

“Do you want to pause the movie?” Mayu asked.

“No, it’s fine. Finish watching it!”

He got up from the couch.

So he was just going to walk out like that?! Leave you with the fucking plushie that moves?! After what you just told him about not letting Mayu know?!

What the fuck?!

He walked out of the living room. You looked at him from over your shoulder, sending a last pleading, desperate gaze that said please help me!!

Gojo waved a very sarcastic goodbye, opening a disgusting smirk in an expression that said No!!

And he left.

Just like that.

Shit.

Fuck.

Satocchi twitched.

You changed positions on the couch to try to disguise it. Thankfully, Mayu’s eyes were glued on the screen.

Okay.

I can do this.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were panicked. You were pissed. Your feet were cold. Your back hurt. Keep pulling it. Even flow. Even flow. It shouldn't be that hard. It’s like walking. It’s like using your legs. Pulling cursed energy from within you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping this constant flow definitely was. Satocchi’s shoulder moved. You groaned, tried to pretend that it was because of that scene when Maximus finds his dead wife and son. Mayu was locked in the movie. Oh my God. Okay. We’re making progress. Even flow. Even flow. ‘I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the armies of the North, General of the Felix legions–’ SHUT THE FUCK UUUUP. Shut up!! You couldn’t focus. This scene is so fucking cool, a part of you thought, the soundtrack is amazing, while the other part kept yelling shut the fuck uuup!!

Even flow. Even flow. 

Mayu wasn’t even blinking. You weren’t, either, but because of your inner terror. God– the music in this movie really is phenomenal. It always made you want to cry. Shit. Maximus walking on the fields, on the verge of death, seeing his wife and son in the distance. Shit. Shit. Your eyes were watery. Mayu’s were, too. ‘You’re home,’ Lucilla said, while he closed his eyes for the last time. The music got louder. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wanted to cry. Mayu, too. The actress’ outfit is gorgeous, you thought. Those earrings… wow. Wait– the pillars in the colosseum look like dildos. Now you wanted to cry and to laugh.

The movie was over.

Mayu sniffed.

“That was so good!” She stated, trying to pretend that she wasn’t crying a little. “What the hell? I didn’t know it was this good!”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Ugh.” Mayu got up. “I gotta pee.”

She left the room.

Credits were rolling.

You were in the same position for two hours. Your knees were stuck.

But the plushie didn’t dance.

You were angry, panicked, emotional for a little while, and even wanted to laugh. But the plushie didn’t dance.

I did it! I mean, it twitched a bit, but that doesn’t count, right?

You didn’t want to do it anymore.

You couldn’t count on Gojo to come help you; but you couldn’t drop Satocchi, either, because it would start breakdancing immediately.

Hmmmm.

An ideia popped up.

You looked down. The heat in your chest… you pulled it. From your chest, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your hands. More energy, more heat. You upped the output. It was tricky, and tiring, and maybe sloppy, but after some effort, your cursed energy enveloped the plushie; like before, it had an eerie black hue that resembled fire. You retracted the energy quickly, afraid that it’d make you exhausted like before.

Tentatively, you let go of the doll.

It rested immovable on the couch.

I did it again!

At last, you got up from the couch.

Your first instinct was to grab your phone and text Gojo how much of a son of a bitch he was. 

But you thought about it.

He said you should work on your cursed energy control regardless of how you felt. And… it worked. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked so well if you weren’t under such pressure.

He was an asshole, but an asshole with good methods.

Ugh.

It was getting quite late. It’d been a while since you cooked for the kids.

After smoking a cig, you headed to the kitchen.

Cooking was a nice activity simply because you could turn your mind off, just focusing on the tasks you had to perform. Wash hands. Wash rice. Put rice in the cooker. Take steak, onion, garlic. Take cutting board. Take knife. It was easy. You usually didn’t allow your mind to wander to unwanted places while you cooked.

You heard the front door opening. After a while, Fushiguro entered the kitchen.

He wore the usual dark uniform. The boy seemed a bit tired, given the circles under his eyes and hunched back.

He looked surprised to find you there.

“Welcome home,” you said absent mindedly. Fushiguro replied with a quiet hi.

You heard him open the fridge behind you. You just kept cutting the meat in thin slices.

“Were you on a mission?” You asked, once again, absent mindedly. 

“Training.” His tone was still quiet.

“Hm.” Some seconds of silence. “You must be hungry, then.”

Fushiguro didn’t answer.

You heard the sound of water being poured in a cup. He drank it there, in the kitchen, behind you. After a while, he left.

Two minutes later, he came back.

You were busy chopping onions. Once more, you noticed him opening the fridge… then a cabinet. He was just… there.

Fushiguro so obviously wanted to say something.

He was orbiting around you, as if gathering courage.

Saying anything would embarrass him. So you just went on with your task, pretending to not notice.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Fushiguro stepped closer.

It seemed that he was ready to say it–

Mayu stormed into the kitchen.

She bumped her hip on yours, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ooooh. What are you cooking?”

“Gyudon.” 

Mayu let another excited ooooooh. “D’you want help?”

She had a really nice habit of offering help in the kitchen (though she hated doing the dishes. Mayu didn’t complain about doing it since you moved here, however. Being in someone else’s house put her in place. Or your constant scoldings, whatever). You thought for two seconds. 

“I think I’m gonna prepare some cabbage, too. Can you cut it for me?”

“Okaaay.” Mayu walked towards the fridge.

Fushiguro was on the way.

They sent each other death stares in silence. 

He stepped aside to let her pass. Fushiguro messed his own hair; after sending you a last weird glance — he didn’t expect you’d be watching, it seemed, by the way his ears flushed — he, at last, left the kitchen with a grumpy pout.

Oh.

You wanted to know what he was going to say.

Mayu took a second cutting board and positioned herself by your side. The kitchen island was so big that the two of you could cook side by side without bumping on each other. So different from your tiny, egg sized kitchen. Whenever one of you decided to cook in your apartment, the other had to step away, otherwise you’d freaking argue.

It was silent for a few seconds. Only the quiet crunch of knives slicing vegetables against a cutting board.

“You should try being nicer with Fushiguro,” you said quietly. Mayu groaned.

“Why don’t you tell him to be nicer with me?” Her voice was already venomous. Your first instinct was to knock her head with the knife handle. Calm down. Be adult.

“Because we’re intimate. I don’t have that freedom to talk about these things with him.” A few seconds of crunch crunch and thud thud. “Also. Because we’re in his house, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, come on. He has the right to be an asshole with me just because I’m in his house? I didn’t come here ‘cause I wanted to.” You knew Mayu wasn’t directing those words to you, but that felt like a punch in the gut nevertheless. You played it off cool, though. “What is this? A dictatorship? I’m not gonna be quiet if someone’s being mean to me, it doesn’t matter who it is or where I am.”

Okay.

She had a very fair point.

You couldn’t even argue with her on this matter. You taught her to be like that.

Crunch crunch. Thud thud. Your eyes were burning a little because of the onion. You started to peel garlic.

“Okay. But I’m not saying you should try being his friend. Just be nicer for the sake of coexistence.” The garlic you unpeeled was moldy. You grimaced and threw it in the trash before taking a new one. “Sometimes it’s socially acceptable for you to be kinda fake. Do you think I like everyone I work with? Do you think I love every patient that comes to me? Of course not.” Crunch crunch. Thud thud. You frowned. “Like… like Umi.”

Your face twisted in a disgusted grimace as if you’d slurped a lemon at the mere mention of her name. Mayu giggled.

“The nurse?”

“Yeah.” The way you unpeeled the garlic became more aggressive. “Do you think I like her annoying voice or how freakin’ inconvenient she is? Or the way she barges into conversations without being called? Or— or the way she doesn’t know how to pluck her eyebrows? God, I fucking hate her eyebrows.” Mayu giggled again. “I don’t. But when she says good morning, I say good morning. When she says the weather’s nice today, I say yeah and go on about my day. Got it?” Another garlic. “I’m not gonna be her friend, but I’m not gonna treat her like shit, because I want peace. I spend most of my time in that hospital, what would my life become if I argued with everyone I dislike?”

Mayu nodded. It seemed she was taking what you said in consideration, at least.

“Mrreow.”

You looked down.

Countess had finally felt the smell of the meat you’d been cutting. She stood near the kitchen island, looking up expectantly with that ugly face.

“Nothing for you here, fat ass.” You said in somewhat of a hiss. Mayu shocked her hip on yours again, more aggressively.

“Don’t be mean to her!”

You looked down at the cat again. She eyed you with contempt. “I tolerate her too, see? I feed her and let her in my house because of you, but I don’t like her.” Mayu rolled her eyes and groaned. “Now take her out of here, you know I don’t like cats in the kitchen.”

Mayu crouched down and carried that miniature cow out of the room to feed her. How she didn’t break her back with the effort was a mystery.

You finished cooking in peace.

Gyudon, stir fried cabbage with carrot, ocha. You and Mayu sat down in the tatami room to eat. You tentatively texted Fushiguro to have dinner (because you didn’t feel comfortable to yell for him to come downstairs), though you already expected he wouldn’t want to dine with the two of you, and he really didn’t. It seems he was paying attention to everything up there, though, because not even three minutes after Mayu left, he came downstairs. Fushiguro dined in the kitchen. He muttered a quiet thank you before marching back to his room.

And then you were alone in the kitchen again.

Time to put the pans back in the fridge.

You paused.

A memory rang in your ears.

Why didn’t you make a bento for me, too?

Hm.

Truth is. You knew he was being a jealous manchild, but you felt bad for not making a bento for him that day. The thought didn’t even cross your mind, actually.

There was still plenty of food.

Hmm.

It wasn’t hard to find that big lunch box in the cabinet — the one that looked big enough to store food for an army. You filled it with gyudon to the brim. If he doesn’t want it, I can just eat it tomorrow, you thought while trying not to feel like an idiot. I can share it with Remi.

You grabbed your phone from the back pocket.

you: are you actually busy or did you just lie?

You didn’t even have time to drop the phone.

Gojo Satoru: I’m busyyyyy ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა

Gojo Satoru: Last minute meeting with higher ups :P or some bullshit

Gojo Satoru: Also don’t call me a liar I never lie (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for some seconds. You didn’t know what to say.

Fuck it.

you: i made a bento for you

you: not that you deserve it

And then you put the phone on the kitchen island, screen down, as if it burned, and waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

He usually didn’t take that long to reply. He probably had his phone in his hand, judging by how fast he typed back. 

Shit.

There’s still time to delete the text.

Yeah. Delete it. I’m just gonna eat it with Remi—

“Oooooown!”

You shrieked.

The phone almost flew from your hands. You stumbled back, your voice echoed around the house, you felt about to spit your heart out.

Gojo just smiled.

You put your hand over your chest, feeling your thundering heart.

“What the fuck?!” Was all you could breathe out.

Steps upstairs.

“What happened?!” Mayu screamed from the top of the stairs.

“Just a cockroach!” Gojo replied before you could. He looked very, very entertained.

She mumbled something — too far to be listenable — but didn’t come downstairs.

He was still smiling.

You always forgot that son of a bitch could teleport and he simply never used the front doors. He came from the backyard where the house’s anchor — the old tree — remained. Sneaked behind you.

“Stop doing that!” You whined angrily. “I almost died!”

“I almost died when I read your text!” Gojo grabbed his jacket where the heart is dramatically. “I mean— a bento for me? What must’ve happened to make you grace me with such kindness?!”

You crossed your arms. Your heart still beat furiously. “I don’t know either, ‘cause you don’t deserve it. Seriously.”

Gojo pouted. He knew what you were referring yourself to. “Aw, come on! It worked, didn’t it? Otherwise Mayu-chan would be freaking out about some possessed bunny.” He looked so proud of himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Weren’t you in a meeting, though?”

“They can wait.” Gojo opened the lunchbox excitedly. His mouth formed a perfect shocked “o”. “How did you know I love gyudon?”

“Everybody loves gyudon.”

“Oooh. And what’s for dessert?” If looks could kill, he would’ve dropped dead. “Just kidding! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is reeeeally nice!” 

That giant albino man, all giddy over a lunchbox.

It didn’t look like he was lying.

You ignored how that made your heart feel.

He closed the lid again. “Unfortunately for you, I gotta go before they notice I left. Where’s Satocchi, by the way?”

You had forgotten about the plushie. Quickly, you went to retrieve it where you had left on the couch; when you entered the kitchen once again, a smug expression covered your features.

“You said I’m really bad at this, right? Well, if I was this bad, I wouldn’t have made it—“

Immediately, you interrupted yourself.

You thought Gojo would appreciate your efforts. Joke about your cockiness, even. But he yanked the plushie from your hands. 

He wasn’t smiling.

“Did you exorcize Satocchi?”

You looked at him in confused silence.

“What?”

“You exorcized him?”

Oh shit. He wasn’t pranking. Uneasiness hit you. “I… well, I didn’t know how to make it stop dancing, and I had to drop it anyway, so…”

Wait.

Wait.

He said exorcise. 

As if it wasn’t just a weird plushie. As if it was somehow— somehow—

Gojo giggled. It wasn’t his usual amused, sarcastic or joyful giggle — it was that kind of laughter that comes when your body doesn’t know what to do because you’re too nervous.

Gojo was nervous.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. “Fuck. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me.”

What?

Your stomach dropped.

“You mean that thing was alive?!” You pointed at the plushie nervously.

“What’d you think?! I said it’s a cursed corpse! It was filled with cursed energy!”

And then you were desperate.

“Oh my God. But why— why did you give it to me in the first place?! Nullifying cursed energy is ‘the’ thing I do!”

“The gloves, Mori. That’s why I gave ‘em. You were supposed to envelop your body, not the doll.”

“But I—“

You looked at the plushie in his hands. It wasn’t even that ugly, now that you paid attention… it was kind of cute… its button eyes were lifeless, its sewn little mouth that was nothing more than a black line pointing down…

And now you wanted to fucking cry.

“I killed him!” Realization hit you like a truck. You covered your mouth with both hands in pure shock. “I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to—“

Gojo looked at your watery eyes, frowning.

“Are you actually going to cry?”

Yeah. You were.

Now he was laughing.

Laughing. Cackling. Gojo bent over as if his stomach hurt. He laughed and laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You wanted to throw the nearest object on his fucking head. Unfortunately, it was a knife.

“Holy shit— you’re crying!”

“I’m not crying!” No tear had streamed down your face yet. The tears had retreated because you wanted to kill him. “So this was all a prank?!”

“No—“ Gojo heaved. “No, I’m serious, you exorcised it. This was a cursed corpse. It was alive, sort of.”

And you wanted to cry again.

“I’m sorry—“

He was cackling again.

You didn’t know if you should apologize, or try to explain yourself, or get angry and say that it was his fault because he left you alone with Satocchi and didn’t explain things that well, or cry, or smack Gojo’s head — so you did everything, going through all the stages of grief in a two minutes.

You hadn’t even realized Fushiguro had entered the kitchen. His excuse was to take a cup of water but you were sure he was curious about the noise. He eyed your expression, and Gojo’s flushed cheeks due to laughter, and then Satocchi—

“One of Principal Masamichi’s dolls?” he asked with confusion.

You’d been sad, angry, frustrated, regretful… and now you were scared. 

“T-The Principal?” The black haired boy nodded.

The man that was almost two meters tall. A pile of muscle. The constant grimace of a movie-like Yakuza leader. And he didn’t even like you that much.

You killed his doll.

Shit.

Two seconds before, you wanted to cry. Now, you wanted to flee the fucking country.

“C’mon, Momorin, it ain’t that serious…” Gojo heaved, regaining his breath and his porture. You turned around to face him with a face that was half angry and half frightened.

“How is it not serious?! He’s gonna kill me!” And you hadn’t even stopped to think of why the hell a man that old and big had a dancing doll to begin with and how funny that was.

“No, he won’t.” Gojo lifted the blindfold up his forehead absently. Seeing his eyes completely unobstructed always made you shut up for some reason. He blinked rapidly and passed his thumb down his waterline. “Shit, I even cried a little.” A last giggle. Finally, he looked at you. “Relax, okay? This thing was under my responsibility anyway.”

You put your hands on your waist awkwardly. “...But I feel bad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re cute. But you don’t need to feel that bad over this.”

Something inside you simultaneously froze and heated up at the same time.

Cute.

Fushiguro’s footsteps walked out of the kitchen, but you barely registered it.

Cute, he said. Gojo called me cute.

And he said it so naturally, too.

He didn’t look embarrassed to have said it. 

Okay.

“Now… I really gotta go–”

“Wait.” You said, lifting a finger. Gojo watched you run to the other side of the kitchen and open a cabinet. Promptly, you came back holding an black insulated bag and placed the lunchbox inside it. “I bet you don’t wanna eat it cold.”

Gojo watched you quietly.

He still hadn’t put the blindfold down.

The lip tightened smile was still there. You wanted to imagine that it was because of how bad he laughed just two minutes prior. Gojo was a smiley person anyway. 

But there was that look in his eyes, too.

The one that looked dangerously like endearment.

You felt heat creeping up your nape. It didn’t have anything to do with cursed energy. 

“What?” You asked, because what else could you ask?

He smirked a bit, making the dimple on the right side of his cheek peak. One second. Two seconds.

“Nothing.” 

At last, Gojo covered his eyes with the blindfold once again.

He took the bag with the lunchbox over the counter.

“Thank you again, Mori! Can’t wait to eat this! If it tastes bad, I’ll let you know too, by the way!”

It was so easy for him to slip back into this persona.

You snorted.

“It doesn’t taste bad. Don’t disrespect me.”

“That we’ll see.” 

Gojo started to make his way out of the kitchen. You watched as he eyed Satocchi in his hand once more – your heart twinged with remorse – and shook his head slowly.

“I’m fucked.” He mumbled under his breath in a tone that, once again, sounded way too nervous.

You didn’t see it when he teleported away, but for the first time, you felt it. The absence of that tune – that frequency that played whenever he was around.

You leaned your hip on the counter and reflected for some moments.

Gojo’s eyes on you.

There was something going on.

Something you couldn’t – or didn’t want to – name. Couldn’t quite decipher yet. Maybe you were scared to do so. 

But it was there. 

It was getting increasingly harder to ignore it.

But…

Now now.

A/N: this is like the third time our girl said "not now". how long until she's finally FORCED to address the TWO elephants in the room she's been ignoring?? - TRAINING MONTAGE!!! honestly!! i had to think real hard about the satocchi stuff. bc i thought gojo using the cursed dolls to train ppl before yuji sounded accurate and cute. BUT i remembered that i had established that MC's technique nullifies C/E upon touching them, so i was like uhhhh. this ain't gonna work. then the gloves came!! satocchi is programmed to stop moving when it feels C/E, not by having it put INTO him like what yuji did. sorta like standing near a stove. you feel the heat but isn't burned. yk??? does it make sense??? I'M TRYING TO RESPECT THE MAGIC SYSTEM!! - another pretty domestic chapter! we're slowly making our way into making this awkward bunch into a family!! how long will things remain this calm, tho?? I DON'T KNOW!! AS USUAL, comments are MUCH MUCH MUCH appreciated! reading your thoughts on the story ALWAYS make my day. i'm SO SERIOUS. even when i'm not that active, seeing that my inbox has a new comment makes my DAY! NEXT CHAPTER - the training will progress!! the elephants will take more space in the room!! See you <3

[empempty]

choso

[rt0no]

[spicymochi]

choose your fav silly friendslop guy

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 10

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 10k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

As funny as it sounds, the SNIPERS SHOOTING CLUB! was, in fact, like. A club.

After your third visit, you became an official member. Michio proudly gave you a round pin with the club logo on it. He even explained that there were monthly tournaments and you could participate; there was a fee, of course, and awards that ranged from a pack of beer to an all-paid dinner at a famous Korean barbecue house. You got curious, though, because Michio talked about the competition thing in the corner, while Gojo was in the bathroom.

He smiled sheepishly and explained in a quiet, hushed voice:

“Satoru always participated, you see. And he always won every tournament by a lot. So… the other club members started to get disheartened to participate.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “The tournament fees are a big part of the club’s income. I… am not very proud of saying this, but for my own sake, I had to ban Satoru from participating. Otherwise no one else would want to compete.” He got one step closer and lowered his voice. “But he doesn’t know that he’s banned, so… hum… it’d be kind of you if you kept this a secret.”

You had to laugh.

On your fourth visit, it already felt like routine.

Gojo would pop up. You’d drive to the shooting club (that was about twenty minutes away from home), practice for one hour, drive back home, Gojo would leave. He was busy; you were busy. That was the most free time both of you had anyway. 

On the evening of the fourth visit, though, Gojo decided to deviate the route a bit. He kept whining about how he had this disease called the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease and as you were a doctor it was your responsibility to take care of it and if he died of that disease it would be yoooooour fault.

So you stopped at an okonomiyaki restaurant, of course.

It wasn’t a fancy place, and it looked like it’d been here for ages, judging by the yellowed posters on the walls that looked like they were placed in the 2000’s and the amount of older customers. That’s how you know food’s good. The smells immediately made your belly rumble as if you had contracted the I-need-to-eat-okonomiyaki disease as well. Gojo was giggly, and excited, and kept wiggling from side to side like a fucking kid, and he honest to God would not shut up. He had let go of the jacket, exposing the (already usual) light blue dress shirt underneath. It was a bit of a funny contrast to see him dressed like a businessman on lunch break while acting like a boy.

Cute is what your mind kept repeating like a mantra, even though you wanted to ignore it.

Cute cute cute cute cute.

The waitress thought he was cute, too.

Obviously. How couldn’t she, when his smiles were so effortless and pretty, when his dimples said hi whenever he smiled, when happiness and excitement looked so good on him? How could she not blush, stutter and unconsciously put a strand of hair behind her ear?

You understood her. Truly, you did.

She was pretty and young, too.

Hm.

Food arrived. Gojo ate his first okonomiyaki, then two, then three. He kept hmmmm-ing at every bite. It was nice, you thought, to be around him in times like these; to talk about irrelevant things, like the film he watched last night (Sharknado 3, he said, calling it an “underrated masterpiece”), or about the new nurse you kinda had a feud with (“I know she doesn’t like me, I just can’t prove it yet”), to how the two of you were obsessed with Need For Speed Underground II when you were younger.

It felt so nice. Just two normal friends having lunch together. Talking about useless things, common interests, laughing at fun stuff.

Normal.

You had a 9mm inside your purse, though.

There was nothing normal about that.

The latent fear within yourself wasn’t normal, either. Your mind knew you were safe with Gojo; your body didn’t. It felt anxious in ways you couldn’t control. It kept getting startled at every movement the other customers did, even if they were mostly elders. 

This fear kept reminding you that your life — your existence — wasn’t normal.

So unfortunately, you had to talk about the abnormal things with the abnormal guy, although you’d rather not bring the mood down.

You waited until dessert arrived, at least.

Gojo asked for pudding (the large one, supposed to serve two people, but he wanted it all to himself). You settled for the small serving. How Gojo still had space in his stomach for more food was a mystery. His hmmmmmm’s!! became more aggressive. He really really liked sweets, huh?

You took two bites and cleared your throat.

His eyes immediately shot up to your face. You could see them over the glasses.

He already knew what that meant.

“So.” You began. You massaged the smooth surface of the pudding with the back of the spoon to busy your nervous hands. “The training’s been nice. I think I’m pretty good at it already.”

“Slow down, sweetheart.” His mouth was full, making him look like a squirrel. “You just started training with moving targets.”

“Yeah— but I’m pretty good at shooting, right?”

“Uh-huh. If your opponent stands still waiting to be shot, sure.”

The angry glare you sent him made him giggle. Little shit.

“Okay! I know I need to train more.” You pouted. The sane part of you realized that was ridiculous, so you ate a bit more pudding to mask that. Pouting? I’m someone that pouts now? I’m spending too much time with him. “But that’s not where I’m trying to get.”

“So where are you trying to get to?”

“I’ll get there if you let me talk.” Another pissed glare. Another amused giggle from him. “What about. You know. My technique?”

He took another spoonful. Albino squirrel. “What about it?”

“I still don’t know what to do with it at all.” You started to shake your leg nervously under the table. Shit, that’s embarrassing. “I thought… well… I thought—“

“You thought the Great Teacher Gojo Satoru would be training you already?”

Ugh.

You hated his smug expression. You hated how that’d just boost his already stratospheric ego.

But it was true.

Being completely honest, you thought after the “test” on the haunted house, he had made up his mind on teaching you. You thought it was already settled, like an unspoken deal. However… it’d already been almost a month and Gojo never even touched the subject.

You kind of sunk on the seat, resting your cheek on your palm, eyes glued on the pudding.

“…I mean.” You shrugged.

You braced yourself to what would follow.

“Oooow!” Sarcastic little shit. His eyes gleamed. He held his face with both hands, forcing a cute expression that you wanted to punch. “No need to act shy, Momorin! Everybody wants the honor to be taught by the strongest sorcerer alive! It’d be weird if you weren’t squirming with excitement, in fact!”

“I’m not squirming.” You kicked his shin under the table. He giggled viciously. “Be serious for a moment!”

“I aaaam being serious.” One more spoonful of pudding. He pointed at you with the spoon lazily afterwards. “I ain’t forget about that, sweetheart. But you’re in a complicated position, remember? You shouldn’t be receiving training. I have to be careful about how I’ll do it.” Okay. Fair. He had a point. “Also – I think you have more important things to deal with before we jump to the real stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Your anxiety.”

You froze.

His lazy smile was still there. His intelligent blue eyes analyzing you; the glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose slightly. You could kinda see them.

That felt like he had thrown a bucket of ice over your head.

There it was again— this thing about Gojo that made it so strange, yet instigating to be around him. Gojo was acting like a giant fool until that moment. Like a manchild. Babbling, giggling, moving like a hyperactive kid, humming loud as hell because he loooooved pudding and he was soooo obsessed with Tekken 5 back then and how he won a bunch of tournaments at an arcade when he was a kid because he’s soooo awesome at everything he does.

But now he was staring at you — and you knew he was seeing you, seeing inside of you, seeing through you. The stuff you so carefully were trying to hide. The quick glances around, how you tried to busy your hands so no one would notice your fingertips shaking a bit, how you smoked more cigarettes than usual to try to calm your system down. The things you didn’t open up to anyone, because that was unlike you. You were terrified of being a burden, of bringing anyone too much trouble — especially to Gojo, because you knew how much he was already doing for you. You didn’t want to be a reason for worry.

Gojo was seeing it nevertheless.

It wasn’t just about his supernatural blue eyes. It was about how much attention he was paying to everything around him; to you, even though he was great at hiding it behind a mask of nonchalance and playfulness.

It’d be on brand for you to try to brush it off. To say something snarky and witty, try to deviate his attention elsewhere. But there was no point in lying, was there? You knew he would see the truth in you anyways. 

So you just avoided his gaze again, feeling your shoulders shrink unintentionally.

Your brain realized that you were pouting again a second too late.

“Ooooow!” Shut up!! Shut up!! “You’re acting way too cute today, Momorin!”

“Don’t embarrass me even more!” you whined, biting one more angry spoonful of pudding. Your neck, nape and face felt hot. Gojo giggled again.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed of. It’s normal to be anxious when you’re being hunted. I mean— it’s normal to normal people, heh, ‘cause I—“ he straightened his back like a proud peacock and smirked. “—I ain’t ever felt anxious over this type of thing.”

“Wow. How inspiring.” The pudding tasted sour in your tongue. Wasn’t he the one who loved to brag all the time about being the strongest or whatever the fuck? You doubted he could understand you. “Who would be dumb enough to try to hunt the strongest guy around?”

“A whole lotta people since I came out of my mother’s womb.”

That made you pause.

Gojo ate more pudding. He stated that so quickly. So naturally. 

“You serious?”

“Yep!” He swallowed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this pretty head of mine on a silver platter?”

He was playful as usual. But the more you thought about it… your frown deepened.

“People were hunting you when you were a child?”

Gojo nodded.

Your stomach dropped.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment. You can’t obtain a technique… you have to be born with it. So since he was a toddler… since he was a baby…?

“Again— I knooow you love talking about me, because I’m such an interesting and amusing person,” you rolled your eyes. “but right now you’re the topic! We’re talking about your little problem.”

At that moment, though, you in fact wanted to talk about him. That piece of information was shocking. For the first time, you realized that, at the same time Gojo talked about himself all the time, he barely talked about himself; about what actually mattered. The silly stuff? He’d talk about it for hours. What he ate, what movies he watched, a joke he learned, this especially ugly person he saw on the subway or the stinky dog he petted on the street. He texted the whole day, sent photos in real time. Whenever you took your phone from your locker in the dressing room, it’d be packed with notifications from him.

But what about his job? What he did on his work trips? His classes, his students? His parents, friends, family? His past?

Gojo didn’t talk about any of that. Ever.

You had to learn through Ijichi that he was a member of an important jujutsu clan, after all, because he didn’t bother telling you. Gojo wasn’t just a sorcerer-teacher-whatever the way you thought — the way he didn’t try to make you think otherwise.

This man was an important part of your everyday life. At the moment, he had become your closest friend, simply because you couldn’t talk about your real problems with any of your friends anymore, not even with Mayu. And yet — you barely knew him.

This had to change.

But not now, clearly, as Gojo was so quick to change topics as soon as you got even close to talking about his childhood.

You rested your chin on your palm. “What do you want me to do? Take anxiolytics?" 

“Pfft. No.” He shook his head. Gojo’s pudding was almost over. He scooped a bunch of syrup from the plate and ate it heartily. “I want you to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“Well. I am anxious because I’m paying too much attention to everything.” Your leg started to shake as if to make a point. “I can’t relax.”

“No, you ain’t paying attention. You’re looking from side to side like a scared mouse.” He licked the spoon. Distracting. This time, his eyes were on you, not on the plate. “You’re not locking your attention on what actually matters.”

Gojo scooped more syrup from the plate. Instead of defending yourself like you’d usually do, you decided to listen.

“For example…” He licked the spoon again. His eyes were back on the plate. “That dude with the red jacket sitting near the front doors you’ve been eyeing the whole time.”

You froze.

Gojo wasn’t even looking at him. In fact, you didn’t even remember catching him looking that way.

You gulped.

“I— I thought I was being discreet,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. Gojo chuckled in response.

“Oh, you were. He isn’t.” It was true. The man, looking to be around his fifties, stole quick glances at your table all the time, which made you get more and more anxious. “And that’s the thing, see? He’s being obvious. But that uncle isn’t targeting you, he’s just being a man.”

You felt your nape getting hot with his implication. 

“And then there’s that other woman sitting behind us.” Once again, Gojo didn’t look back while he talked, more focused on taking every lasting drop of caramel syrup from his plate, but you felt even more embarrassed; you were focusing on her as well. She looked across the table to where you were all the time, zapping her eyes from her phone to your location constantly and making you nervous. “Well… she’s just being a woman.”

He wiggled his eyebrows smugly. You scrunched your nose in a grimace. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“What? I’m hot! It can’t be helped! Women will gawk at me, either you like it or not. But don’t worry, darling, I only have eyes for you.” He spoke that intentionally louder, intentionally dramatic, loud enough so that the woman behind you and the dude in red could hear, simultaneously making them avoid their gazes (they were paying attention) and you giggle in a mix of embarrassment and endearment.

Gojo finally looked up at you again, leaning a bit closer in your direction.

“What I mean with all this, Mori, is that when someone actually pops up targeting you – because that will happen sooner or later –, it’s not gonna be obvious like that.” His voice dropped. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose; you could see them. He still smiled a little bit, but it was different: mysterious. You knew what that tone, that expression meant. Gojo wasn’t playing. He meant every word. It was one of those moments when he looked wise in a way that seemed unfitting to someone his age. It almost looked like authority, in a way.

That was a man that knew what the fuck he was talking about.

He had your full attention.

“When a skilled curse user cross your path… it ain’t gonna be like in the movies. Some spy wearing a trench coat, dark shades and a fedora hat.” You giggled briefly at the idea. He couldn’t help himself but joking a little, even when he was being serious. “They’ll be silent. They will know how to creep around you without being noticed. It ain’t gonna be sudden, either. Maybe they’ll be creeping for days… weeks… making you feel used to their presence. Waiting ‘til you have your guard down.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Uhm… none of the people that came after me ‘til now were that silent.” Not at all. Both attempted kidnappings happened in broad daylight, with a bunch of possible witnesses and literal media coverage.

“That’s why I said skilled curse users.” His voice dropped even lower. He leaned a bit closer. “Truth is… you might not even notice what’s happening until it’s too late.”

His words sunk in. The air around you felt heavier, more difficult to breathe.

“What should I do?” You asked.

Gojo scooped a little bit of caramel that still remained on the plate. “If you ain’t gonna see them,” He licked the spoon. Distractiiiing. He pointed at you with the now clean spoon. “You gotta sense them.”

“How?”

“People like us accumulate cursed energy, some much more than others. Regardless of how vast one’s energy reserves are, it is always possible to feel that emanating from them in a way a normal person won’t. That’s how you will recognize a threat. That’s how you’ll pinpoint a curse user in the middle of a packed crowd.”

You nodded slowly and crossed your arms. “How can I do that?”

Gojo pouted, poking the back of the spoon on his lips absently. “It’s not that hard. It should feel pretty natural, to be honest. But I guess it won’t feel that way for you, since you awakened your technique much later in life.” He shrugged. “I guess my presence doesn’t make it any easier for you, either. I might be stunting your senses.”

For a second, you thought that he was boasting his own ego again, but it didn’t sound like it.

“In what way?”

Gojo smirked and leaned his head to the side.

“Let’s just say I am too much.”

You pretended to not understand the double meaning there.

You actively decided to ignore it for your own sanity, in fact.

“I don’t get it.” You stated. 

Gojo hummed and straightened his back, leaning on the chair once more. He let go of the spoon and crossed his arms.

“Hmm… lemme try something.”

You frowned a bit. “You’re not gonna make me fight a curse out of nowhere, right? ‘Cause I never trust you when you come with this ‘lemme try something’ talk–”

You froze.

The words you were about to say derailed in your throat. Forgotten. Your eyes widened.

You looked around.

It was silent. Nothing had changed.

But, at the same time–

“So?” Gojo eyed you with much interest. 

You blinked several times. 

“I… I can’t…”

He smiled. Gojo already knew what you meant.

Thankfully so, because you couldn’t even begin to explain what you were feeling.

Or rather not feeling. 

That was precisely it: the absence of feeling. The lack of something that was there all along; like someone had pulled a warm blanket from over your body out of nowhere, exposing you to the cold. Like a little, constant note that had been playing in your ears for so long that you hadn’t even noticed it was there, until someone finally turned the radio off.

It was silent.

For the first time in longer than you could even remember, it was silent.

“What did you do?” You finally asked.

“Masked my own cursed energy. Yeah, I was right. I was really stunting your senses. My bad.” Gojo shrugged once again. “How do you feel?”

You gulped. “It’s… quiet.”

He sent you a puzzled look. “That’s an interesting way to put it.” He remarked. “This is how a ‘normal’ environment is supposed to feel. No cursed energy. If there is something, however…”

Gradually.

The tune came back. Low, very low, until its volume was back to what you were used to. The warmth; the blanket being carefully put over your body again. It was back. Except this time, after experiencing its absence, you noticed its presence.

It felt gentle, in a way.

“...it should feel like this,” Gojo continued. “Though weaker. You have to learn how to refine your perception. Very skilled sorcerers know how to mask their cursed energy just like I did. You gotta look for that spark in the darkness; that little light, the perception that something is off. That something that shouldn’t be there is.”

You nodded slowly.

That was mesmerizing.

You had no other way to put it.

Mesmerizing.

It was like you had awakened some sort of sixth sense. Something extraordinary. And yeah — maybe you shouldn’t be that shocked; you had enough time to let everything regarding jujutsu sink in. The fact that this hidden society existed, that your hallucinations were real, that a person could possess super human powers. But quite honestly, until that moment, you still hadn’t felt different. Yes, you exorcized a curse willingly at the haunted house; but even then, it didn’t feel that you were doing much. You hadn’t felt extraordinary.

At that moment, as you finally sensed Gojo’s cursed energy — or the lack of it —, something clicked inside your head.

You weren’t a normal person thrown into a foreign world. You were part of it. This world just felt foreign because you had entered it later in life. 

For the first time, you didn’t just come to terms that you had to learn how to use your technique; you felt… excited about it.

And maybe Gojo noticed that, too, given the little smile on his lips. It wasn’t his usual flippant smirk. You avoided his gaze, focusing on what little remained of your pudding. You didn’t want to deal with the expression that looked dangerously like endearment. You didn’t want to acknowledge how that made you feel.

Not at that moment.

In the end, the only thing that came from your mouth was a frustrated groan when Gojo lifted his hand out of nowhere and said:

“Waitress! Can you bring me one more pudding?”

Goddamnit.

You had imagined how the training would go.

Granted, the fault was on your fertile imagination. I mean, what else comes to mind when someone says training? To yours, the view of Goku and Gohan exchanging blows in the Time Room came as clear as day. Yoda hanging from Luke’s back on a swamp planet. You even imagined Gojo going jacket on! Jacket off! Pick up the jacket!! 

In other words, you thought it’d be cool.

Him sitting on the sofa holding a bunny plushie didn’t look cool.

You were rotting in bed on your day off, mindlessly scrolling in your phone, when a text of his popped up: super incredible sensational jujutsu training with great teacher Gojo Satoru begins TODAY!!!! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ and that was more than enough to make you jump off the bed and take the pajamas off. You panicked for two seconds, thinking, should I put on gymwear?, but you imagined he would’ve told you so if it was needed, so you settled for something comfortable and light — a simple white t-shirt and black jogger pants — before leaving your room.

You didn’t expect he’d already be sitting there in the living room.

Gojo wore his usual uniform. Today, instead of the bandages covering his eyes, the black blindfold. It didn’t look like he was ready to get up, though, judging by the way he was so relaxed, sitting with his legs spread open like that.

You stood at the entrance and looked at him awkwardly.

He probably had been sitting there for a while. He probably heard you jumping off the bed and rushing to get changed. 

That was a bit embarrassing.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly.

Gojo smiled. “You look excited!”

Ugh.

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

His smile widened. Dimples. “That’s the spirit!”

You walked into the living room tentatively. “So… where is this training going to happen?”

“Right here!”

You stopped on your tracks, frowning.

“...Here?”

“Yep!”

“But Mayu’s home.” It was Sunday, after all.

“Won’t be a problem!”

That was a bit disappointing. Half of your excitement vanished.

“Here’s your training buddy, by the way!”

And then he lifted the plushie, holding it with both hands as if he was handing you a cat.

The thing was… creepy.

It was a floppy white bunny. Yeah, it sounds cute, but this plushie was all battered up as if an angry kid used it to unleash all of their anger on it, dragging it by the leg and beating it on the walls repeatedly. The legs, arms and ears were all comically long. It had two buttons as eyes, the left one being bigger than the other, in purple and yellow.

Gojo peeked his head from behind the plushie, still smiling.

“I picked him so you can think of me while you train!” You just kept looking at him in silent confusion. Gojo seemed disappointed that you didn’t get what he meant. “Uh, white bunny? Cinnamorroll? Duh-huh?”

“Oh.” Jesus. You had forgotten about the merch you bought him. You quirked one eyebrow. “Cinnamorroll is a dog, though.”

The smile vanished from his lips.

He dropped his arms down his lap again, so it looked like the plushie was sitting there, its head flopped down in disappointment. You could see the outline of his furrowed brows under the blindfold. “A dog?”

“Yeah.” 

Gojo thought about it for two seconds. “That’s awful character design.”

“Uh-huh.” You approached him, standing near the couch, and motioned to touch the plushie. “So… what am I going to do with it–?”

Gojo shifted, yanking the plushie away from your reach. “Nuh-huh! Put the gloves on first!”

“Gloves–?” He pointed at it with his chin.

You turned around to see a pair of thick grey gloves over the coffee table. Like, really thick gardening gloves. These too looked old, clearly bigger than your hand size. 

Again – weird.

But you decided not to question it. You put the gloves on anyway. Gojo moved to the side, giving you space to sit down, and so you did. 

“Now, as I was saying, Satocchi will be your training buddy from now on.” 

“Excuse me– Satocchi?”

“Yup.” He grinned cheekily. “I mean, that’s practically my twin!”

You rolled your eyes. He giggled. A part of you was giggling, too, but fuck that part. Gojo at last handed you the plushie, which you held awkwardly in those big, uncomfortable gloves.

“Will there be any further explanation or I’ll have to figure out what to do–?”

The bunny jumped.

It fucking jumped.

You jumped, too, shrieking, shocking your back against the couch, pulling your legs off the ground too and gluing them to your chest because what the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! The thing moved?! It’s moving?! It’s– it’s–

Breakdancing?!

You watched, eyes widened, heart racing, as the bunny was literally, without any exaggeration, b-boying over the coffee table, moving like a human being without emitting a sound or music.

Gojo cackled.

He threw his head back, laughing at the top of his lungs. You just kept watching the creature without batting an eye.

You heard rushed steps up there.

“What happened?!” Mayu asked from the top of the stairs. You panicked. What if she comes down and sees this?!

“Nothing!” You screamed back. “A– A cockroach!”

“A cursed corpse!” Gojo screamed at the same time as you. You aggressively threw a cushion on his face, to which he deflected with ease and laughed harder.

“A cockroach!” You screamed louder this time. “Just a cockroach!”

“Ew!” You heard Mayu saying up there… and her steps back to her room.

Thank God.

Your head whipped in Gojo’s direction again. “Make it stop!” You hissed.

“No, you have to make it stop.” He was still laughing.

“How the fuck–?” You looked at it again. The plushie was moonwalking. You shivered. 

Finally, Gojo moved.

He leaned closer to the table. Took the plushie by the ears; the moment his hand touched it, the thing stopped moving. Flopped, lifeless once again.

He turned to you. The laughter had finally died down, but he still held a very entertained smile there.

“Satocchi right here is programmed to stop moving when it feels cursed energy. If you don’t put that to work, it’ll dance.”

Oh.

You eyed him, and the plushie, and him.

You didn’t want to touch that thing. Not at all.

“I don’t know how to do that.” You gulped.

“You do! You just don’t know that you do. But it’s intuitive. It ain’t something complicated to do, but like I said before, you’re unaware of it because your technique awakened late.” Slowly you sat like a normal person again because Gojo was going into his wise mode. Oh, so he’s not playing. This is serious. “Tell me; the moments you used your cursed energy, even if unconsciously, how did you feel?”

You thought about it.

When you were kidnapped, wrapped in paper tags (seals) and managed to free yourself with black “flames”; when you “fought” against the frog-like curse at the haunted house; or even that little curse you accidentally stepped on. The thing you felt during all of those situations was…

“Anger.” You stated. “I was angry… and it happened.” 

Gojo nodded. “And how did you feel afterwards?”

You thought about it again. “…Very tired. Like… my legs.” You gesticulated awkwardly towards them. “Feel heavy as if I’d run a marathon.”

Gojo nodded again. “That’s because you’ve just been bursting cursed energy without any control over it. And that sucks, ‘cause you’re burning your supply all at once; it’s impractical, because you’ll see yourself without cursed energy to use, and it takes a tool on your body.” He pointed at you. “Your cursed energy control is bad. Like, bad in ways that baffle me. Again— I think it’s because your technique awakened very late. Right now, you’re like Ariel when she gained legs, you know? Stumbling around and stuff.” 

You nodded slowly. It hadn’t occurred to you that anything he was saying mattered. So… cursed energy was like gas in the tank and you had to know how to spend it wisely. According to what he said in the restaurant, some people could have a bigger tank than others. Okay. All of that was understandable.

“It means that putting out cursed energy is something as natural as walking?” 

“Yes.” Gojo held the plushie with both hands again. “What I want you to do… is envelop your own body with a very thin layer of cursed energy, enough to make Satocchi sense it, and keep it intact, until you can make it permanent with no effort.”

You nodded again. Cursed energy was like walking… and that plushie was like a walker, because you had never “walked” before. 

He handed you the plushie.

You took it with both hands.

It immediately started dancing. Now that your grip was firm and you were aware that it would move, though, you didn’t let it leap away. The bunny kept wriggling from side to side, legs and arms twitching around (was it dancing to Thriller?!), and it felt the same as trying to hold a hyperactive kitten that clearly didn’t want to be held.

“This is–” you groaned. “–distracting!”

“C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“I don’t–” it almost jumped away. “–I don’t know how!”

“Pull the energy without relying on any emotions.” He was using that whiny tone that was really annoying. “Remember, using cursed energy is like using your legs. It ain’t that hard.”

You looked down at the plushie angrily while it swayed from side to side once more. 

Not relying on emotions.

How did it feel that time in the meat locker with the kidnappers?

You were so angry. You were begging your body to do something. Then… you felt heat in your chest, so bad that you thought you were suffering from cardiac arrest. It had an actual effect on your body, differently from when you stepped on the rat at the hospital or even when you exorcised the frog-like curse.

It wasn’t just about emotion. You had pulled a reaction out of yourself, even if unintentionally.

You frowned in concentration.

Try to tap that place again.

My chest.

The heat.

You felt it.

It wasn’t nearly as strong as that time… but it was there nevertheless. That thing you couldn’t name, that was part of you, yet you had never noticed before. 

“Slow,” Gojo said in somewhat of a warning tone. “Go slowly.”

Instinctively, your fingers curled around the plushie with the effort. Less heat. You toned it down. It’s still here, you noticed. Okay. Now pull it. Slowly like he said.

It spread from that tiny point in your chest until you felt it covering all of your ribcage, down to your stomach, up to your shoulders.

“Am I doing the thing?” You asked in a voice strained by effort.

“Yeah, you’re doing the thing.”

Almost at the same time, Satocchi interrupted its impeccable Thriller performance and flopped motionless like a regular plushie doll.

“Ooooh,” you breathed out in a mix of relief and excitement. “It’s–”

Satocchi twitched.

You shut up and focused on pulling the thing again.

Gojo giggled.

“Wow, you’re so bad at this, it almost pisses me off.”

“Shut up–” you felt the heat get stronger without meaning to.

“Uh-uh! Tone it down! Keep the even flow even if you’re angry!” 

Okay. Less heat. 

The plushie stopped moving.

You looked at him angrily.

“It’s my first try, okay?! You’re not being very supportive!”

“Nah, I’m making you mad on purpose so you can train your cursed energy flow while feeling different emotions.” He grinned cockily. “I’m so smart!”

You rolled your eyes. Satocchi twitched again. You focused on it.

“How long do I have to do this?” You asked after a while. “I don’t want Mayu to see it.”

Gojo hummed. You lifted your eyes to him again; he was eyeing his phone, typing something with one hand, while the other arm went to rest on the couch’s backrest comfortably. 

“Now that you mentioned it, how long do you plan on hiding everything from her?” His voice was quieter, a new hint of seriousness and interest there. “‘Cause, you know, you can’t do that forever.”

You immediately grimaced.

“...Do I even have to?” This time, you were the one whining quietly like a kid. Your leg started to shake on instinct. Gojo huffed.

“I mean.” Even though he wore the blindfold, you knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot. Maybe you were an idiot. It was a bit offensive to be considered an idiot by the idiot guy. “Your case won’t get solved that quick, if you hadn’t already noticed. I might even say that things will get more complicated as we progress. It’ll get harder and harder to keep everything from her.”

“It’s not–” Satocchi twitched. You focused on it. It stopped moving. “–that easy.”

“Why not?” You could see the outline of his eyebrow quirking under the blindfold. Each word of his made you more uncomfortable. “Plenty of non-sorcerers know about jujutsu. Government people, cops, sorcerers’ relatives…”

“It’s ‘cause–” The bunny twitched again. You groaned, trying to focus on your cursed energy flow.

It’s because Mayu has already been through enough.

Mayu didn’t have a mother she remembered well. She lost her dad when she was eleven. You brought her back to Japan, a country she was not born in, and even though she luckily adjusted fast and well, you knew it wasn’t an easy change. Mayu dealt with feelings and absences you knew you’d never be able to fulfill, even if you did your best.

You just wanted to offer some stability in her life. Some comfort. Some normalcy.

You never planned to have this strange power awaken out of the blue, to be targeted, to have to learn how to defend yourself, to be taken out of your homes. You hated that Mayu couldn’t go wherever she wanted anymore. The thought that she was in danger because of you was maddening. You didn’t want Mayu to be even more scared or worried; she did not need this heavy of a weight over her shoulders. 

At least, not yet.

“You might think it’s not that deep, but it’s because you were born in this world, okay?” You stated somewhat angrily whilst trying to keep Satocchi immovable. “Neither me or her were. Mayu’s normal. You can’t just come to a normal person and say, look, there are dangerous spiritual creatures lurking around. Also I have supernatural powers and someone wants to get me for whatever reason.”

Gojo snorted again. “It’s what you were told. It’s what everyone who’s involved with jujutsu is told. You get used to it eventually.”

“It’s not–” Even flow even flow even flow. Satocchi stopped moving again. “Look, it’s not like I’ll never tell her. I know I can’t hide things forever. It’s just–” You gulped. “Not now.”

Gojo eyed you in silence for some seconds, expression unreadable. He probably still thought you were an idiot.

“Okay.” He finally said, shrugging. “Well. But if you don’t want her to find out about anything now, you better work on your training very hard.”

You frowned. “What do you mean…?”

Almost as if being summoned, you heard steps up there.

Your back stiffened.

Faster than you could even look back, Mayu jumped over the couch and plopped down between you two.

“So, who’s making the popcorn?” She asked excitedly.

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

Mayu turned to you with confusion. “Ain’t we gonna watch a movie?” She waved her phone lightly. “Blindfold-san said in the groupchat.”

What?!

“Yes!” Gojo exclaimed with excitement. “I just found out that Mayu-chan never watched Gladiator! Like, what have you been teaching this kid, Momorin?! This is unacceptable!”

He stood up in a jump. You hadn’t noticed the DVD case over the coffee table. Mayu sat more comfortably while he turned the TV on.

She eyed your gloves with awkwardness.

“Why the hell are you wearing these?”

Your back was stiff, your arms were stiff, your legs were stiff– you felt the plushie twitching– shit shit shit shit shit–

Even flow! Even flow! Even flow!!

“Gardening.” You said between gritted teeth. “I was gardening.”

She still eyed you like you were a weirdo. “...Okay.”

The Universal Studios logo filled the screen. Gojo ran back to sit on the couch. 

He’s not doing this to me.

He’s not fucking doing this to me.

You couldn’t move. Panic filled your system. Mayu was right there. If the plushie moved a centimeter– if your flow weakened just a bit– there’s no way she wouldn’t see it. 

“And this plushie?”

You froze even more than what you were already frozen.

“It’s a gift from me!” Gojo had the decency to at least intervene this time.

She scrunched her nose. “It’s so fugly.”

“Don’t talk about Satocchi like that.” Gojo pouted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“The movie.” You groaned in a sound similar to the cry of a wild animal that was caught in a trap. “Pay attention to the– movie.”

She paid attention to the goddamn movie.

Even flow even flow even flow even flow–

Four minutes into the film, Gojo whined very dramatically. Your head whipped in his direction.

“Waaah… something urgent popped up outta nowhere! I gotta go solve it!”

You son of a fucking bitch–

“Do you want to pause the movie?” Mayu asked.

“No, it’s fine. Finish watching it!”

He got up from the couch.

So he was just going to walk out like that?! Leave you with the fucking plushie that moves?! After what you just told him about not letting Mayu know?!

What the fuck?!

He walked out of the living room. You looked at him from over your shoulder, sending a last pleading, desperate gaze that said please help me!!

Gojo waved a very sarcastic goodbye, opening a disgusting smirk in an expression that said No!!

And he left.

Just like that.

Shit.

Fuck.

Satocchi twitched.

You changed positions on the couch to try to disguise it. Thankfully, Mayu’s eyes were glued on the screen.

Okay.

I can do this.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were panicked. You were pissed. Your feet were cold. Your back hurt. Keep pulling it. Even flow. Even flow. It shouldn't be that hard. It’s like walking. It’s like using your legs. Pulling cursed energy from within you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping this constant flow definitely was. Satocchi’s shoulder moved. You groaned, tried to pretend that it was because of that scene when Maximus finds his dead wife and son. Mayu was locked in the movie. Oh my God. Okay. We’re making progress. Even flow. Even flow. ‘I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the armies of the North, General of the Felix legions–’ SHUT THE FUCK UUUUP. Shut up!! You couldn’t focus. This scene is so fucking cool, a part of you thought, the soundtrack is amazing, while the other part kept yelling shut the fuck uuup!!

Even flow. Even flow. 

Mayu wasn’t even blinking. You weren’t, either, but because of your inner terror. God– the music in this movie really is phenomenal. It always made you want to cry. Shit. Maximus walking on the fields, on the verge of death, seeing his wife and son in the distance. Shit. Shit. Your eyes were watery. Mayu’s were, too. ‘You’re home,’ Lucilla said, while he closed his eyes for the last time. The music got louder. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wanted to cry. Mayu, too. The actress’ outfit is gorgeous, you thought. Those earrings… wow. Wait– the pillars in the colosseum look like dildos. Now you wanted to cry and to laugh.

The movie was over.

Mayu sniffed.

“That was so good!” She stated, trying to pretend that she wasn’t crying a little. “What the hell? I didn’t know it was this good!”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Ugh.” Mayu got up. “I gotta pee.”

She left the room.

Credits were rolling.

You were in the same position for two hours. Your knees were stuck.

But the plushie didn’t dance.

You were angry, panicked, emotional for a little while, and even wanted to laugh. But the plushie didn’t dance.

I did it! I mean, it twitched a bit, but that doesn’t count, right?

You didn’t want to do it anymore.

You couldn’t count on Gojo to come help you; but you couldn’t drop Satocchi, either, because it would start breakdancing immediately.

Hmmmm.

An ideia popped up.

You looked down. The heat in your chest… you pulled it. From your chest, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your hands. More energy, more heat. You upped the output. It was tricky, and tiring, and maybe sloppy, but after some effort, your cursed energy enveloped the plushie; like before, it had an eerie black hue that resembled fire. You retracted the energy quickly, afraid that it’d make you exhausted like before.

Tentatively, you let go of the doll.

It rested immovable on the couch.

I did it again!

At last, you got up from the couch.

Your first instinct was to grab your phone and text Gojo how much of a son of a bitch he was. 

But you thought about it.

He said you should work on your cursed energy control regardless of how you felt. And… it worked. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked so well if you weren’t under such pressure.

He was an asshole, but an asshole with good methods.

Ugh.

It was getting quite late. It’d been a while since you cooked for the kids.

After smoking a cig, you headed to the kitchen.

Cooking was a nice activity simply because you could turn your mind off, just focusing on the tasks you had to perform. Wash hands. Wash rice. Put rice in the cooker. Take steak, onion, garlic. Take cutting board. Take knife. It was easy. You usually didn’t allow your mind to wander to unwanted places while you cooked.

You heard the front door opening. After a while, Fushiguro entered the kitchen.

He wore the usual dark uniform. The boy seemed a bit tired, given the circles under his eyes and hunched back.

He looked surprised to find you there.

“Welcome home,” you said absent mindedly. Fushiguro replied with a quiet hi.

You heard him open the fridge behind you. You just kept cutting the meat in thin slices.

“Were you on a mission?” You asked, once again, absent mindedly. 

“Training.” His tone was still quiet.

“Hm.” Some seconds of silence. “You must be hungry, then.”

Fushiguro didn’t answer.

You heard the sound of water being poured in a cup. He drank it there, in the kitchen, behind you. After a while, he left.

Two minutes later, he came back.

You were busy chopping onions. Once more, you noticed him opening the fridge… then a cabinet. He was just… there.

Fushiguro so obviously wanted to say something.

He was orbiting around you, as if gathering courage.

Saying anything would embarrass him. So you just went on with your task, pretending to not notice.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Fushiguro stepped closer.

It seemed that he was ready to say it–

Mayu stormed into the kitchen.

She bumped her hip on yours, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ooooh. What are you cooking?”

“Gyudon.” 

Mayu let another excited ooooooh. “D’you want help?”

She had a really nice habit of offering help in the kitchen (though she hated doing the dishes. Mayu didn’t complain about doing it since you moved here, however. Being in someone else’s house put her in place. Or your constant scoldings, whatever). You thought for two seconds. 

“I think I’m gonna prepare some cabbage, too. Can you cut it for me?”

“Okaaay.” Mayu walked towards the fridge.

Fushiguro was on the way.

They sent each other death stares in silence. 

He stepped aside to let her pass. Fushiguro messed his own hair; after sending you a last weird glance — he didn’t expect you’d be watching, it seemed, by the way his ears flushed — he, at last, left the kitchen with a grumpy pout.

Oh.

You wanted to know what he was going to say.

Mayu took a second cutting board and positioned herself by your side. The kitchen island was so big that the two of you could cook side by side without bumping on each other. So different from your tiny, egg sized kitchen. Whenever one of you decided to cook in your apartment, the other had to step away, otherwise you’d freaking argue.

It was silent for a few seconds. Only the quiet crunch of knives slicing vegetables against a cutting board.

“You should try being nicer with Fushiguro,” you said quietly. Mayu groaned.

“Why don’t you tell him to be nicer with me?” Her voice was already venomous. Your first instinct was to knock her head with the knife handle. Calm down. Be adult.

“Because we’re intimate. I don’t have that freedom to talk about these things with him.” A few seconds of crunch crunch and thud thud. “Also. Because we’re in his house, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, come on. He has the right to be an asshole with me just because I’m in his house? I didn’t come here ‘cause I wanted to.” You knew Mayu wasn’t directing those words to you, but that felt like a punch in the gut nevertheless. You played it off cool, though. “What is this? A dictatorship? I’m not gonna be quiet if someone’s being mean to me, it doesn’t matter who it is or where I am.”

Okay.

She had a very fair point.

You couldn’t even argue with her on this matter. You taught her to be like that.

Crunch crunch. Thud thud. Your eyes were burning a little because of the onion. You started to peel garlic.

“Okay. But I’m not saying you should try being his friend. Just be nicer for the sake of coexistence.” The garlic you unpeeled was moldy. You grimaced and threw it in the trash before taking a new one. “Sometimes it’s socially acceptable for you to be kinda fake. Do you think I like everyone I work with? Do you think I love every patient that comes to me? Of course not.” Crunch crunch. Thud thud. You frowned. “Like… like Umi.”

Your face twisted in a disgusted grimace as if you’d slurped a lemon at the mere mention of her name. Mayu giggled.

“The nurse?”

“Yeah.” The way you unpeeled the garlic became more aggressive. “Do you think I like her annoying voice or how freakin’ inconvenient she is? Or the way she barges into conversations without being called? Or— or the way she doesn’t know how to pluck her eyebrows? God, I fucking hate her eyebrows.” Mayu giggled again. “I don’t. But when she says good morning, I say good morning. When she says the weather’s nice today, I say yeah and go on about my day. Got it?” Another garlic. “I’m not gonna be her friend, but I’m not gonna treat her like shit, because I want peace. I spend most of my time in that hospital, what would my life become if I argued with everyone I dislike?”

Mayu nodded. It seemed she was taking what you said in consideration, at least.

“Mrreow.”

You looked down.

Countess had finally felt the smell of the meat you’d been cutting. She stood near the kitchen island, looking up expectantly with that ugly face.

“Nothing for you here, fat ass.” You said in somewhat of a hiss. Mayu shocked her hip on yours again, more aggressively.

“Don’t be mean to her!”

You looked down at the cat again. She eyed you with contempt. “I tolerate her too, see? I feed her and let her in my house because of you, but I don’t like her.” Mayu rolled her eyes and groaned. “Now take her out of here, you know I don’t like cats in the kitchen.”

Mayu crouched down and carried that miniature cow out of the room to feed her. How she didn’t break her back with the effort was a mystery.

You finished cooking in peace.

Gyudon, stir fried cabbage with carrot, ocha. You and Mayu sat down in the tatami room to eat. You tentatively texted Fushiguro to have dinner (because you didn’t feel comfortable to yell for him to come downstairs), though you already expected he wouldn’t want to dine with the two of you, and he really didn’t. It seems he was paying attention to everything up there, though, because not even three minutes after Mayu left, he came downstairs. Fushiguro dined in the kitchen. He muttered a quiet thank you before marching back to his room.

And then you were alone in the kitchen again.

Time to put the pans back in the fridge.

You paused.

A memory rang in your ears.

Why didn’t you make a bento for me, too?

Hm.

Truth is. You knew he was being a jealous manchild, but you felt bad for not making a bento for him that day. The thought didn’t even cross your mind, actually.

There was still plenty of food.

Hmm.

It wasn’t hard to find that big lunch box in the cabinet — the one that looked big enough to store food for an army. You filled it with gyudon to the brim. If he doesn’t want it, I can just eat it tomorrow, you thought while trying not to feel like an idiot. I can share it with Remi.

You grabbed your phone from the back pocket.

you: are you actually busy or did you just lie?

You didn’t even have time to drop the phone.

Gojo Satoru: I’m busyyyyy ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა

Gojo Satoru: Last minute meeting with higher ups :P or some bullshit

Gojo Satoru: Also don’t call me a liar I never lie (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for some seconds. You didn’t know what to say.

Fuck it.

you: i made a bento for you

you: not that you deserve it

And then you put the phone on the kitchen island, screen down, as if it burned, and waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

He usually didn’t take that long to reply. He probably had his phone in his hand, judging by how fast he typed back. 

Shit.

There’s still time to delete the text.

Yeah. Delete it. I’m just gonna eat it with Remi—

“Oooooown!”

You shrieked.

The phone almost flew from your hands. You stumbled back, your voice echoed around the house, you felt about to spit your heart out.

Gojo just smiled.

You put your hand over your chest, feeling your thundering heart.

“What the fuck?!” Was all you could breathe out.

Steps upstairs.

“What happened?!” Mayu screamed from the top of the stairs.

“Just a cockroach!” Gojo replied before you could. He looked very, very entertained.

She mumbled something — too far to be listenable — but didn’t come downstairs.

He was still smiling.

You always forgot that son of a bitch could teleport and he simply never used the front doors. He came from the backyard where the house’s anchor — the old tree — remained. Sneaked behind you.

“Stop doing that!” You whined angrily. “I almost died!”

“I almost died when I read your text!” Gojo grabbed his jacket where the heart is dramatically. “I mean— a bento for me? What must’ve happened to make you grace me with such kindness?!”

You crossed your arms. Your heart still beat furiously. “I don’t know either, ‘cause you don’t deserve it. Seriously.”

Gojo pouted. He knew what you were referring yourself to. “Aw, come on! It worked, didn’t it? Otherwise Mayu-chan would be freaking out about some possessed bunny.” He looked so proud of himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Weren’t you in a meeting, though?”

“They can wait.” Gojo opened the lunchbox excitedly. His mouth formed a perfect shocked “o”. “How did you know I love gyudon?”

“Everybody loves gyudon.”

“Oooh. And what’s for dessert?” If looks could kill, he would’ve dropped dead. “Just kidding! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is reeeeally nice!” 

That giant albino man, all giddy over a lunchbox.

It didn’t look like he was lying.

You ignored how that made your heart feel.

He closed the lid again. “Unfortunately for you, I gotta go before they notice I left. Where’s Satocchi, by the way?”

You had forgotten about the plushie. Quickly, you went to retrieve it where you had left on the couch; when you entered the kitchen once again, a smug expression covered your features.

“You said I’m really bad at this, right? Well, if I was this bad, I wouldn’t have made it—“

Immediately, you interrupted yourself.

You thought Gojo would appreciate your efforts. Joke about your cockiness, even. But he yanked the plushie from your hands. 

He wasn’t smiling.

“Did you exorcize Satocchi?”

You looked at him in confused silence.

“What?”

“You exorcized him?”

Oh shit. He wasn’t pranking. Uneasiness hit you. “I… well, I didn’t know how to make it stop dancing, and I had to drop it anyway, so…”

Wait.

Wait.

He said exorcise. 

As if it wasn’t just a weird plushie. As if it was somehow— somehow—

Gojo giggled. It wasn’t his usual amused, sarcastic or joyful giggle — it was that kind of laughter that comes when your body doesn’t know what to do because you’re too nervous.

Gojo was nervous.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. “Fuck. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me.”

What?

Your stomach dropped.

“You mean that thing was alive?!” You pointed at the plushie nervously.

“What’d you think?! I said it’s a cursed corpse! It was filled with cursed energy!”

And then you were desperate.

“Oh my God. But why— why did you give it to me in the first place?! Nullifying cursed energy is ‘the’ thing I do!”

“The gloves, Mori. That’s why I gave ‘em. You were supposed to envelop your body, not the doll.”

“But I—“

You looked at the plushie in his hands. It wasn’t even that ugly, now that you paid attention… it was kind of cute… its button eyes were lifeless, its sewn little mouth that was nothing more than a black line pointing down…

And now you wanted to fucking cry.

“I killed him!” Realization hit you like a truck. You covered your mouth with both hands in pure shock. “I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to—“

Gojo looked at your watery eyes, frowning.

“Are you actually going to cry?”

Yeah. You were.

Now he was laughing.

Laughing. Cackling. Gojo bent over as if his stomach hurt. He laughed and laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You wanted to throw the nearest object on his fucking head. Unfortunately, it was a knife.

“Holy shit— you’re crying!”

“I’m not crying!” No tear had streamed down your face yet. The tears had retreated because you wanted to kill him. “So this was all a prank?!”

“No—“ Gojo heaved. “No, I’m serious, you exorcised it. This was a cursed corpse. It was alive, sort of.”

And you wanted to cry again.

“I’m sorry—“

He was cackling again.

You didn’t know if you should apologize, or try to explain yourself, or get angry and say that it was his fault because he left you alone with Satocchi and didn’t explain things that well, or cry, or smack Gojo’s head — so you did everything, going through all the stages of grief in a two minutes.

You hadn’t even realized Fushiguro had entered the kitchen. His excuse was to take a cup of water but you were sure he was curious about the noise. He eyed your expression, and Gojo’s flushed cheeks due to laughter, and then Satocchi—

“One of Principal Masamichi’s dolls?” he asked with confusion.

You’d been sad, angry, frustrated, regretful… and now you were scared. 

“T-The Principal?” The black haired boy nodded.

The man that was almost two meters tall. A pile of muscle. The constant grimace of a movie-like Yakuza leader. And he didn’t even like you that much.

You killed his doll.

Shit.

Two seconds before, you wanted to cry. Now, you wanted to flee the fucking country.

“C’mon, Momorin, it ain’t that serious…” Gojo heaved, regaining his breath and his porture. You turned around to face him with a face that was half angry and half frightened.

“How is it not serious?! He’s gonna kill me!” And you hadn’t even stopped to think of why the hell a man that old and big had a dancing doll to begin with and how funny that was.

“No, he won’t.” Gojo lifted the blindfold up his forehead absently. Seeing his eyes completely unobstructed always made you shut up for some reason. He blinked rapidly and passed his thumb down his waterline. “Shit, I even cried a little.” A last giggle. Finally, he looked at you. “Relax, okay? This thing was under my responsibility anyway.”

You put your hands on your waist awkwardly. “...But I feel bad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re cute. But you don’t need to feel that bad over this.”

Something inside you simultaneously froze and heated up at the same time.

Cute.

Fushiguro’s footsteps walked out of the kitchen, but you barely registered it.

Cute, he said. Gojo called me cute.

And he said it so naturally, too.

He didn’t look embarrassed to have said it. 

Okay.

“Now… I really gotta go–”

“Wait.” You said, lifting a finger. Gojo watched you run to the other side of the kitchen and open a cabinet. Promptly, you came back holding an black insulated bag and placed the lunchbox inside it. “I bet you don’t wanna eat it cold.”

Gojo watched you quietly.

He still hadn’t put the blindfold down.

The lip tightened smile was still there. You wanted to imagine that it was because of how bad he laughed just two minutes prior. Gojo was a smiley person anyway. 

But there was that look in his eyes, too.

The one that looked dangerously like endearment.

You felt heat creeping up your nape. It didn’t have anything to do with cursed energy. 

“What?” You asked, because what else could you ask?

He smirked a bit, making the dimple on the right side of his cheek peak. One second. Two seconds.

“Nothing.” 

At last, Gojo covered his eyes with the blindfold once again.

He took the bag with the lunchbox over the counter.

“Thank you again, Mori! Can’t wait to eat this! If it tastes bad, I’ll let you know too, by the way!”

It was so easy for him to slip back into this persona.

You snorted.

“It doesn’t taste bad. Don’t disrespect me.”

“That we’ll see.” 

Gojo started to make his way out of the kitchen. You watched as he eyed Satocchi in his hand once more – your heart twinged with remorse – and shook his head slowly.

“I’m fucked.” He mumbled under his breath in a tone that, once again, sounded way too nervous.

You didn’t see it when he teleported away, but for the first time, you felt it. The absence of that tune – that frequency that played whenever he was around.

You leaned your hip on the counter and reflected for some moments.

Gojo’s eyes on you.

There was something going on.

Something you couldn’t – or didn’t want to – name. Couldn’t quite decipher yet. Maybe you were scared to do so. 

But it was there. 

It was getting increasingly harder to ignore it.

But…

Now now.

A/N: this is like the third time our girl said "not now". how long until she's finally FORCED to address the TWO elephants in the room she's been ignoring?? - TRAINING MONTAGE!!! honestly!! i had to think real hard about the satocchi stuff. bc i thought gojo using the cursed dolls to train ppl before yuji sounded accurate and cute. BUT i remembered that i had established that MC's technique nullifies C/E upon touching them, so i was like uhhhh. this ain't gonna work. then the gloves came!! satocchi is programmed to stop moving when it feels C/E, not by having it put INTO him like what yuji did. sorta like standing near a stove. you feel the heat but isn't burned. yk??? does it make sense??? I'M TRYING TO RESPECT THE MAGIC SYSTEM!! - another pretty domestic chapter! we're slowly making our way into making this awkward bunch into a family!! how long will things remain this calm, tho?? I DON'T KNOW!! AS USUAL, comments are MUCH MUCH MUCH appreciated! reading your thoughts on the story ALWAYS make my day. i'm SO SERIOUS. even when i'm not that active, seeing that my inbox has a new comment makes my DAY! NEXT CHAPTER - the training will progress!! the elephants will take more space in the room!! See you <3

[f-tality0]

Megumi