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“One day, you will fully grow into your power, and you will no longer be a child, undone by mere weather. How will that day come if you don’t strive for it, Satoru?”
Satoru buried his head underneath his flimsy pillow and told himself that it muffled all of the pathetic sounds he was surely making. The snide voice of his grandmother playing on repeat in his head that insisted that if he tried hard enough, Six Eyes will suddenly be nothing but convenient, absolutely did nothing to help. If anything, he had to keep reminding himself that he was not at home and thus had to spend less effort in appearing normal, and the internal voice undercut that assurance by a lot, as if she would emerge from the flashes of lightning and judge him if he wasn’t vigilant enough.
He hated weather like this. The constant clash of atmospheric pressures, the collapse of the clouds, the plasma that tore through the heavens and split the sky… it was like the end of the world, condensed into a single event that the earth bore with grace. Because it wasn’t actually the end of the world at all, just a measly storm.
Not to the Six Eyes, though. Noooooo, it turned out, that seeing at an atomic level made phenomena like millions of droplets falling from the sky and verifiable flash-bangs of lightning a little… difficult to deal with. Rain could be forgivable, even with how it refracted and dispersed the miasma of cursed energy that permeated the air like a secret, extra element alongside nitrogen and oxygen, but the lightning… Satoru still couldn’t handle all the intermittent bright light all that well. Not when they wouldn’t stop. It gave him migraines.
They never got easier to handle, no matter how many times he was told they should. They probably never would. When he tried looking through the personal writings of previous Six Eyes, he couldn’t find much of anything at all (which wasn’t surprising, because Gojos were too prideful to record their pain) but he did once find an elimination list of teas and herbs that helped with headaches, which said enough. He wondered if the weather was simply the universe’s way of humbling the eyes that perceived it to its core. Or maybe it was the revenge of Sugawara no Michizane haunting the Gojo lineage for taking his famed technique—it was a petty enough thing that Satoru might believe it.
Whatever the reason (if there was one at all, which there likely wasn’t), Satoru ‘solved’ this issue by just being better at avoiding situations that led to this outcome, and when it was unavoidable, he simply beared through the pain.
But this was the fourth day in a row marred by storms and he was tired. He was well aware that he shouldn’t be, but it was the weekend, and the benefit of shitty weather was that there were no additional assignments or exorcism requests, so Satoru just… decided to wallow. For a little bit. Maybe he would gain some reprieve by sleeping in all day, like a fifteen-year-old was meant to do on Saturdays. Theoretically.
It didn’t work. All of his usual tricks to distract himself long enough to get some sleep failed. His brain was too wired and he was too focused on the headache. Wasn’t there medicine for this? Or would it interfere with his head more? It was so hard to tell how many ‘tips and tricks’ from his clan were legitimate and how much of them were their bias (or attempts to “keep him on his toes”) sometimes… Would Shoko make fun of him if he admitted he never tried aspirin before?
Yeah… Probably. Best keep that one to himself, then.
Another lightning flash. It sparked above his field of vision, purposely kept as small as he could manage, but the intense light reached him anyway and aggravated his headache. It wouldn’t be that bad if his eyes weren’t already too sensitive. Ugh, why did storm season have to exist? He just needed a break.
The door swung open and Satoru jumped. Shit, he would normally good at tracking the whereabouts of his clan precisely so this wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t presentable. Who—?
Suguru looked back at him from the doorway, the waves of his cursed energy distinct from anyone else’s. Right. He was at school. Unfortunately, school still had people in it.
“There you are,” Suguru said, sounding a bit annoyed. Satoru couldn’t get a good look at his face, only the way his energy moved. His eyes were too hard to manually focus when they got like this. “You’re late.”
“What?” Satoru blurted. It was Saturday, right? No, he might be flailing about like idiot, unable to tamper down his problems, but he wasn’t that bad off. He wouldn’t be. He knew what day it was… Right? So why was Suguru judging him?
“Really, Satoru?” Suguru sighed. Satoru tensed, ready to argue, because hey, even at his worst, Satoru wouldn’t take holier-than-thou shit from a guy who came from the middle of nowhere, from a normal family. What right did he have to always judge Satoru?!
But because he wasn’t as quick as he should be, Suguru beat him to it. “The movie night was your idea. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Oh.” The reminder threw him off guard, because whoops, okay, he did forget. He had spent all that time convincing Suguru and Shoko that they should totally do this, too, because wasn’t this what high school was for? And classmates? (Friends?) Plus… it would be nice to watch a movie with people for once, and not sequestered away with the DVD player he aggressively claimed when no one was paying too much attention, or worse, with someone else in the clan hovering nearby and watching too but being weird about it. Like they were allergic to the allure of storytelling, or something. (Or just judging his choice in movies. Screw you, Aunt Akane, Spirited Away may be ‘inaccurate’ but it was still a classic, sheesh. It was not a disgrace to sorcerers to call Haku hot either… Besides, dragons were way cooler than most curses.)
“I guess I lost track of time,” he half-admitted carefully.
“Sure.” He could feel Suguru’s scrutiny from across the room. “Come on, before Shoko eats all the popcorn she made.”
Satoru had a split second to make a choice: bail on them now and risk all of his (brilliant) ideas being shot down in the future, or, suck up his misery and power through the headache for another two hours.
The choice was simple. He had plenty of experience in the latter, anyway.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Going from sitting up to standing and walking was way too disorienting for something so simple. His head pounding in rhythm with every time his heel hit the floor, to the point that Satoru was beyond grateful to make it to the couch, slumping next to Shoko and playing it off to look like a purposeful show of disregard and not anything he did by happenstance.
Luckily, Shoko didn’t bat an eye until he tried to grab a handful of popcorn—then she lifted the bowl just out of reach. Normally, nothing Shoko could ever do would be ‘out of reach’ to Satoru because she was ridiculously short, but this time, it would require him to move too much so Satoru… didn’t. He just complained. “Shokooooo, what gives?”
“Make your own,” Shoko drolled. “This is a Shoko-sized bowl only.”
Even Suguru frowned. “That’s the largest bowl in the kitchen.”
“Second-largest,” Shoko corrected in that bored tone of hers. “My calorie intake is crazy enough without you two special grade stomachs getting involved. I had to un-bust one of the upper classmen’s knees this afternoon. I deserve this.”
Suguru sighed. “Fine, then. I’ll microwave another while you set up the movie.” He called over his shoulder as he left, “Satoru, come get your own if you want any.”
Satoru ignored him. Could he stand to eat? Probably. Did he want it bad enough to stand up again? No. He will survive.
Provided the movie didn’t do him in. Television screens were normally fine, up until all the light was too bright and thus blurred together in a mini-flashing nightmare. It helped if he closed his eyes and decreased his field of view, but he was still seeing spots six times over from everything else.
Suguru returned and the movie started. Satoru hadn’t seen this one before, but it was hard to pay attention. He had to keep from flinching every time lightning struck overhead or particles collided in thunder-inducing cacophony, and that took more of his focus.
So much focus that he didn’t notice Shoko reaching up to poke his cheek until it was too late, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. She jerked her hand back, but otherwise, sat still and stared. “I thought you fell asleep.”
“What? Of course not,” he defended. Truthfully, even! He couldn’t even sleep if he wanted to, tonight…
“You never watch movies with your eyes closed, and you’ve been silent for thirty minutes,” she observed. “That’s a personal record for you, I think.”
Suguru paused the movie, and now he had two sets of eyes scrutinizing him. “Don’t tell me you’re bored. This was your idea,” Suguru said.
“Are you two bored? It seems like you’re paying more attention to me than the movie!” Satoru huffed. “Jealous you can’t see through your eyelids?”
Then, because the universe hated him as much as it loved him (which was the same thing, usually), a bolt of lightning tore a few kilometers out, beyond the window, and Satoru instinctively winced his eyes shut.
Shoko frowned at him before tapping the side of his head lightly. She didn’t do anything, but he was attuned enough to her unique cursed energy to know that she checked.
“You have a migraine, don’t you?” she guessed, even though she clearly knew she was right.
He should have deflected harder. There were leagues of reasons why Satoru might have more agitation in his head, thanks to his eyes and his stupidly large well of cursed energy, so he could have lied rather successfully. However… he didn’t have enough motivation to. Over the last few months, he already messed up in front of his classmates more times than he was comfortable with. Yet, it wasn’t that bad. If anything, some of his fumbles made them more comfortable to be near him, which Satoru might prefer. If they were going to be agitated with him either way, he might as well not be scary about it. He liked these two too much to want to scare them off on purpose.
“It’s just a headache. It’s not a big deal,” he settled on.
Shoko leveled a flat expression at him, unimpressed. Then she sighed. “What’s your ibuprofen dosage?”
Huh? “What?”
She was already getting up. “You’ll be too stubborn to go get medicine yourself. So: what’s your dose? I’m sure it’s something stupid with all that cursed energy of yours.”
He blamed the migraine for being slow on the uptake. Shit. She was asking about his dosage for something he has never (consciously) taken. What was he supposed to say? “For headaches? I wouldn’t know. This doesn’t happen often, or anything,” he lied.
Unsuccessfully lied, that is. “Cut the bullshit,” Shoko deadpanned. “I’ve seen you get migraines before. It’s your big blues, right? That can’t be easy on your brain.”
Well. Fuck. The last person to expose him so thoroughly was his grandmother, but it was super different when Shoko did it. Still terrifying, but not… threatening. He couldn’t pinpoint what the difference actually was.
“Oh. Uh.” He floundered. “I’ve never taken medicine for them before.”
“At all?” she pressed.
He couldn’t find an answer that wasn’t pathetic. He might be too sensitive to the effects? He let his clan bully him into never trying? His reputation had already taken a hit tonight.
She took his flustered silence as an answer. “We’ll experiment, then. I’ll go get the bottle.”
And then she was gone, and it was Suguru’s turn to peel him apart. “I didn’t realize you got those often,” he admitted, like he should have noticed, somehow, despite Satoru doing everything in his power to make them not noticeable. “Is it random?”
“Not usually, no,” Satoru replied, because at the very least, he needed to make sure nobody thought he was prone to falling apart out of the blue.
“So it’s a sensory thing,” Suguru determined. “The lights? The movie?”
And Satoru was already so far down the hole, he decided to go a little further. He would rather Suguru and Shoko know his weaknesses than his family, at least; it suddenly seemed unfair that it wasn’t the other way around. “The storm,” he admitted. “It’s… a lot, when you can see everything.”
Suguru didn’t jeer. He didn’t scoff. He didn’t start listing all the reasons why that shouldn’t be true (at least not yet). He just furrowed his brow and said, “it’s been storming for days.”
He went for incredulity, but he was… too tired to pull it off. His shoulders slumped instead. “Yeah. It’s not like one storm would take me out, or anything. It’s just…”
“Compounding,” Suguru finished. “I get it.”
“Okay,” Shoko announced when she returned, shaking a bottle. “Let’s start with 200 milligrams, and if that bothers you, I’ll fix it. It shouldn’t, though. Your clan is paranoid.”
“How did you know…?”
“After the antihistamine incident? I guessed,” Shoko interrupted. “Besides, they’re usually involved whenever you look like a kicked dog.”
Satoru wasn’t sure how much he liked being so transparent, but if it was just them… It wasn’t as bad. So he accepted the offered pill and glass of water and let it go.
“Here, Satoru,” Suguru said, moving around to Satoru’s other side and taking something up from Shoko’s hands. “Lay down.”
“Huh? What? What about the movie?” Just because they discovered his migraine didn’t mean they had to shut everything down!
“We can watch it another time,” Suguru replied, as if that were an easy commitment. “No use while you’re feeling shitty. Now put this over your eyes. It might help.”
The damp cloth did help. Between the tv being turned off and the cool darkness over his eyelids, the relief startled to already trickle in. Plus, his body didn’t immediately start to protest the medicine, so that might count as a win.
Before he knew it, Satoru was slipping away to sleep. As a general rule, he never slept in occupied rooms, but here… Well, it turned out his classmates were the exception to more than one thing.
His migraine was gone by the time he woke up.