Chapter Text
Satoru approaches his old friend slowly, as if the thickness hanging in the air could slow his pace. The coppery scent of blood is overpowering, the residuals of cursed energy strong enough to be practically tangible. It’s Yuuta and Rika’s overwhelming presence, but also something that shouldn’t dare feel familiar anymore.
Yet it does.
He unwinds the bandages from his eyes and tucks the covering in his pocket. He then squeezes his eyes shut, taking a moment to brace himself for the inevitable sensory overload that’ll come. But for reasons Satoru can’t express, it feels important to see Suguru with his own two eyes, not through the lens of a cursed technique.
In this space between buildings, where they once sprawled out together on the grass in between classes, Satoru opens his eyes and looks down at what remains of his best friend.
Suguru is too far gone for even Shoko to heal, and Satoru’s chest feels unbearably heavy when he realizes that this is their end. The words they exchange will be their last, and those he doesn’t have the time to say will forever be a caged beast trying to claw its way out of him.
Suguru. His name is the steady beat to which Satoru’s pulse falls in line. Suguru must be aware how easy it would be to manipulate Satoru, though he’s never tried. He never would. He’s not the type to abuse the power he holds over others, as ironic as that is.
Suguru smiles through unimaginable pain, a weary grin that’ll haunt Satoru’s dreams tonight. At least it’ll be a change from the image of Suguru walking away from him, slowly disappearing into the crowd at Shinjuku.
The words they say to each other mean nothing. The words they say to each other mean everything. It’s too late to understand Suguru’s twisted view of the world, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from committing every word to memory.
And then Suguru dares to say, "You should at least curse me at the end."
Satoru could. A part of him wants to. He could easily open his mouth and let everything spill out, continuing to curse Suguru’s name long after his body has gone cold. Or he could use their remaining time together to demand an explanation. Why wasn’t he enough? What could he have done to make Suguru stay?
And if not that, why hadn’t Suguru asked Satoru to come with him?
The bond between an alpha and omega should feel stronger, but Suguru hovers near death and Satoru’s poisoned his body with blockers and suppressants for too long without thinking twice. Not that any damage to himself mattered once he learned to use reverse cursed technique.
They’re both shadows of the teens they once were.
Satoru wets his lips, considering. There are so many things he could say, yet Suguru’s time is undeniably finite. And so he decides, knowing the words he’s going to speak are a curse in their own right, a burden that Suguru shouldn’t have to take on in his dying moments.
But the weight of this secret is so, so heavy. It’s heavy enough that Satoru fears it may one day become enough to break even him.
And so the words he’s never told anyone spill out of him.
“We have a daughter, Suguru.”
Satoru’s parents spend an obscene amount of the family fortune both on treatments and silence from those they trust to know about their son’s condition. There are doctors advising against such an aggressive medication regimen but signing off all the same. And then there are teachers, coaching Satoru on how to act, on how to suppress his own mannerisms and adopt someone else’s. To pretend to be a different person.
It’s not a crime to be an omega. Some clans even prize the secondary sex, especially when an omega possesses a powerful cursed technique they can pass along. But the problem is that omegas aren’t considered strong in their own right; how can they be when subject to the will of an alpha? Because he’s the only viable heir to the Gojo clan, Satoru quickly learns to accept that being himself is not an option. When he presents as a young teen, he submits to his parents’ will and works hard to conceal his inferior nature.
Possessing both the Limitless and the Six Eyes, he knows he can be the strongest one day in spite of what he is, though not if people believe him to be weak. And so deception becomes his nature.
After spending his childhood being shuffled from one location to another, starting at the school presents a host of novel experiences. Seeing the same classmates day after day is something Shoko and Suguru are used to, something they take for granted. For Satoru, it’s an excitement and a challenge. He doesn’t ask his parents what will happen if anyone discovers his defect; he knows as surely as he knows that he’ll one day be the strongest that it simply can’t happen. And so he overcompensates by being loud and brash, projecting an air of overconfidence at all times.
Suguru hates him at first.
It’s more accurate to say Suguru hates him for the better part of their first year together.
Suguru is a natural alpha, self-assured in an unimposing way that Satoru is never able to mimic properly, no matter how carefully he observes. Teachers and classmates write off their disagreements as grandstanding between two alphas fighting to establish superiority. Even Shoko, a beta through and through, quickly tires of trying to be their peacekeeper and instead leaves them to their own devices.
Once, after a particularly heated argument in the middle of a history lesson, Yaga locks the two of them in a small classroom with a threatening promise not to let them out until they learn to get along. It takes everything in Satoru to hold his ground, to not lose himself in the way that Suguru smells like a mix of smoke and mint gum, to meet Suguru’s deep eyes and fight against the way his body aches to submit.
It’s the most exhausting thing he’s ever done, even more than laying out his domain for the first time.
But Satoru stays relentless in both his facade and his pursuit of Suguru’s friendship, and finally Suguru relents.
Except rather than making things easier between the two of them, maintaining an act only becomes harder. Lies of omission build up one after the other, becoming a precarious tower that could topple at any moment. Suguru is Satoru’s best friend, his only friend if he’s being honest with himself. And Satoru becomes consumed by the fact that he’s a liar, presenting a front to the world.
And more importantly, to Suguru.
At the end of their first year, he breaks down and finally tells Suguru. They’re sitting on Satoru’s bed, preparing for final exams that hardly matter anyway. Well, Satoru hasn’t been able to focus on anything for the last thirty minutes. He’s been studying Suguru, and Suguru has been pretending not to notice.
Finally, he reaches over to open his nightstand drawer, revealing all the pills he swallows daily. He tosses one of the small bottles to Suguru, who catches it effortlessly without looking up from the textbook open in front of him.
It’s the longest ten seconds of Satoru’s life as he watches Suguru peer at the label.
It’s long enough to realize that he shouldn’t have told Suguru. Suguru knows he’s a liar now. Worse, Suguru knows there’s something wrong with him. They can’t be the two strongest anymore.
Satoru wipes sweat from his palms, the only external sign of the panic raging within him.
Suguru finally looks up, brushing stubborn bangs out of his eyes. “Suppressants?” he asks.
“Yeah.” Satoru’s voice is disappointingly small.
"Suppressing what?"
It should be an easy answer because it goes without saying. That he’s an omega. That he’s weak. He doesn’t know what Suguru hopes to gain by making him say it out loud, other than some kind of confirmation that Suguru is the better of the two of them. “You know what,” Satoru says.
Suguru nods, tossing the bottle back to Satoru. “I guess the better question is why.”
“Why?” Satoru repeats, still not understanding.
“Why have you been hiding who you are?”
Satoru remembers that Suguru was scouted, that he comes from a normal family. He didn’t grow up in this world, and so it makes sense that he doesn’t understand. Relief washes over him. “It’s complicated,” he says.
“Mm. I suppose so,” Suguru says, returning his gaze to the textbook open in front of him, as if Satoru hasn’t completely changed the dynamic that should exist between them.
Does Suguru really not understand?
“You can’t tell anyone,” Satoru says. Just to make sure.
A hint of annoyance passes through Suguru’s expression, a quick flare of his nostrils. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“I mean it. If-”
“Satoru.” Suguru’s gaze snaps up. “I swallow curses. You swallow pills. I don’t care. Your secret is safe with me.”
That Suguru would compare his prized cursed technique to Satoru’s weakness shows how little he understands. All the same, Satoru trusts that Suguru is sincere when he says he won’t say anything.
For the first time in far too long, the smile on his face is genuine.
“You didn’t tell me,” Suguru says.
Satoru sinks down next to Suguru, resting his hands on his knees. “I didn’t know when you left,” he explains. “Figured it out a couple weeks later.”
He considers but decides against asking if it would have changed anything had he realized sooner. Speculation doesn’t do either of them good at this point. The fact that he’s even telling Suguru any of this is undeniably cruel, but Satoru can’t keep carrying it around.
Not even Shoko knows. Satoru gave her some halfhearted excuse before heading home, but by the time he left, he hadn’t been in his right mind for weeks. Everyone had attributed it to grief. They’d given him a wide berth, treating him with excess care when they did have to interact with him. It was Yaga gently broaching the idea of sending him back out on an assignment that made him realize he had to do something.
Suguru tilts his head towards Satoru, studying him with those dark eyes. “I heard that you left for some long-term assignment in India.”
“Mm,” Satoru hums in confirmation. “My parents paid a lot for that lie.” It was something they’d reminded him of often, another thing to hold over his head, and-
“Satoru.” The seriousness in Suguru’s voice pulls Satoru from the memory. “What happened?”
Satoru is careful to wait until he's sixteen weeks along to tell his parents. Predictably, they’re livid. But their rage is something he’s been prepared for. What he doesn’t know is what will come next.
He’s sent from the family room after a good deal of shouting. He manages to tune most of it out, absently rubbing the small curve of his stomach. They’ll come up with a plan for handling this situation and he’ll fall in line. He doesn’t have Suguru to guide him now. He’s left with the jujutsu world and all that it expects from him.
All Satoru is certain of is that he wants to be the strongest. It’s what he’s always been, and he doesn’t want to give it up.
It would be more than enough for his parents to see the fading bite marks on the side of his neck and know that Suguru claimed him, that someone from a non-existent lineage now has control over the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world. Not that Suguru would ever abuse his position as an alpha, even when Satoru would have liked him to.
It’s funny, he supposes, how he still believes he knows what Suguru would or wouldn’t do.
Several hours pass before Satoru is summoned back to the family room. His father has clearly been pacing, while his mother is sitting on the edge of an oversized chair. When his father gestures for him to sit down, Satoru chooses to stand.
Satoru realizes he’s grown since the last time he saw his parents. He’s now a few inches taller than his father.
The heavy silence between the three of them is broken by his father. “You think you’re going to keep this baby,” he states.
Satoru nods.
His mother stares at the floor, massaging her temples. “Do we want to know who the father is, Satoru?”
"The curse user-"
He doesn’t think to use Infinity to stop his father’s hand from connecting with his face. "You'll never say his name again. Do you understand, Satoru?"
A dark bruise will form on Satoru’s cheekbone. It won’t matter. No one will see him for close to a year. There will be a lie that people are paid to confirm and perpetuate. Gojo Satoru will spend a year in India, an immersion trip. A chance to clear his head after losing his best friend.
Another lie.
“I guess it was convenient, in a way,” Satoru says conversationally. In the decade since Suguru left, he’s gotten better at refining his act. He’s learned to lean into the arrogance that comes from being untouchable. “That would have been the year they got serious about finding someone for me to marry. Whoever could be paid enough to never tell anyone how defective I am.”
Satoru got through that time by finding joy anywhere he could. Truthfully, there had been little to be found anywhere while he was kept on house arrest in one of his family’s more remote homes, kept company by a skeleton crew of staff who were paid generously for their discretion.
“You still talk about yourself like there’s something wrong with you,” Suguru replies, though each word is spoken as though it causes him pain. His breath rattles in his chest when he takes a slow inhale. They don’t have much longer together, Satoru realizes. Five minutes, perhaps, if they’re lucky.
But the messy tangle of emotion that he feels stays pushed far, far down.
Satoru tips his head back and smiles. “Come on, Suguru. There’s plenty wrong with me.”
Satoru gets to hold his daughter for twenty minutes. Had he known what was to come next, he would have used every bit of his limited energy to memorize her, to commit every bit of her to detail.
She has a full head of dark hair. Her eyes are a dark blue, though he’s read that all babies are born like that. He looks forward to seeing if they lighten to a shade like his, though he hopes she takes after Suguru.
His body hurts like he can’t ever remember hurting before. The pain is compounded by exhaustion after spending two days trying to bring his daughter into the world. But there’s an overwhelming sense of fear that transcends any physical pain when he remembers he can’t keep his daughter safe with Infinity anymore.
He should think twice when his mother gently pries her from his arms, but he’s so tired. And she strokes his sweat-dampened hair, speaking to him in a low voice and telling him that it’s alright. To rest for just a little bit.
He'll wake up and find her gone.
A look of horror comes through the deathly pallor of Suguru’s face.
“It took me a while to find her. My parents said it was for her protection that she not be easily traced back to me,” Satoru continues, now staring straight ahead at the far wall. It’s surprisingly easy to recount this part, considering that it was a bitter wound for such a long time, but he learned he couldn’t survive that way. And so he forced himself to let it scab over and form an ugly scar on his psyche. “I guess I was scared of what they’d do. That if I found her, they’d hide her better. And I didn’t want to make her life harder.”
Suguru starts to say something, but Satoru cuts him off. “And in exchange for being good, they gave me pictures of her every so often. I know they had to be of her because the way she smiles…” He pauses to force a laugh and turn to Suguru, mimicking the way Suguru always closes his eyes. “It’s just like you.”
He takes a moment to clear his throat. “Once I had enough money, I hired my own people to keep an eye on her. Nanami helped. I don’t think he understands it. Or maybe he does but just doesn’t want to ask. She’s growing up in Canada with a nice family.”
“Is she…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru isn’t sure if it’s because it’s become too painful to speak, or if the thought that their daughter is a useless monkey is too much for Suguru to consider.
"Like us?” Satoru supplies. “She is."
Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens his photo gallery. He clicks to a familiar album, keys in a password, and then holds the screen out to show Suguru. The most recent pictures of her are displayed first: a smiling girl with dark hair and eyes that contain the sky. She looks happy, untroubled by the issues that bind either of her biological parents.
As far as Satoru can tell, her childhood has been relatively normal. There aren’t as many curses outside of Japan. Their daughter is getting to grow up in one place surrounded by a loving family. Things he didn’t get to have. Things he now realizes he wouldn’t have been able to give her. Even if Suguru had stayed, the two of them wouldn’t have been fit to raise her, though no one would have been able to convince them otherwise. It’s unfortunate that he can only see everything clearly in hindsight.
“She’s in contact with people who can teach her the basics for now. One day I’ll ask her if she wants to come study in Japan. It’ll be her choice.”
"You haven't met her?"
Satoru shakes his head. He can’t read the emotion in Suguru’s statement, so he answers honestly, if not superficially. "Nah. She deserves a simple childhood. As simple of a life as she can have one day. It's better that she's not tied to either of us. I guess I should thank my parents for that."
Suguru coughs. The simple action shakes his entire body, and his next words are more labored. "You shouldn't thank them for what they did to you."
Satoru waves a hand dismissively. Only a little longer. He only has to act brave for Suguru for a little while longer. "It's in the past. I can't change it."
"They made you hide who you are,” Suguru insists.
"And I keep hiding it now." Satoru turns to Suguru, offering him a smile. "Do you hate me for telling you now?"
"You should have told me before."
"Maa. Maybe." The thought of him and Suguru with their daughter feels too far off. The fantasy belongs to someone else, someone who was much more naive. There was a time that Satoru believed in a fair and just world, of the strength contained between himself and Suguru, and most importantly, their ability to fix the things that are broken in the world.
Now, he realizes that telling Suguru everything has been much less cathartic than he’d always imagined. Because Suguru will soon be gone and he’ll be alone again, knowing that they have a daughter growing up on the other side of the world, a happy girl who doesn’t even know Satoru exists.
Satoru realizes that despite how well he’s been able to pretend otherwise, there’s still a part of him who’s nothing more than a weak omega wanting his alpha to make everything better. He wants more time with Suguru, time to tell him everything properly, to beg for forgiveness and understanding.
But he makes sure the storm brewing inside him stays contained.
Suguru coughs again, blood now staining his bottom lip. "I hate the jujutsu world, Satoru. I wanted to fix it for you."
"You wanted to destroy it," Satoru corrects. "For more than me."
With the arm that hasn’t been destroyed by Rika, Suguru reaches out and takes Satoru’s hand. His skin is clammy, covered with cooling blood.
Satoru allows himself to cling back.
"What's…" A slow, labored breath. "...her name?"
One of the few things his parents had respected. "Shinobu."
"Satoru…"
Satoru tilts his head, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. Better yet, a command from his alpha. Satoru has fought against his nature for so long, pushing down the part of him that loves Suguru, that wants Suguru at his side, for Suguru to tell him what to do and make everything better.
Suguru is gone now. Satoru can feel it as surely as he can feel his heart still stubbornly beating in his chest, a dull marching order. He still owes the world so much, the world that's taken so much from him yet given him so much to protect.
Without Suguru, he gives himself half a minute to let the grief overwhelm him, to let ugly, unrestrained tears fall down his face for the first time. He didn’t allow himself to cry, not when Suguru left. Not when Yaga told him he’d one day have to kill his best friend. Not even when he’d woken up and found his daughter long gone.
He can’t stop sobs from shaking his body, though he bites down on his knuckles to keep from crying out. The world isn’t fair and sometimes the weight of everything he’s trying to fix is more than enough to crush him.
An infinity passes too quickly in those last few seconds. But Satoru counts to thirty and takes one last shaky breath before retying his blindfold, letting it mask his bloodshot eyes. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and gets to his feet, gently scooping up what’s left of his best friend. He’ll ask Shoko to make Suguru look more presentable, and then he’ll deliver Suguru’s body back to his so-called family.
And tomorrow, Satoru will go back to being nothing more and nothing less than the strongest sorcerer in a generation, trusting that his secret is safe with a dead man.