Chapter Text
If there is anything Satoru has learned about Yuuji, it is this.
Itadori Yuuji is a terrible liar.
Not just bad.
Terrible.
The kind of liar whose entire face betrays him before a single word even comes out. His eyebrows twitch, his eyes dart around like he's searching for an emergency exit, and his shoulders tense as though he's preparing to be arrested. Sometimes he even scratches the back of his neck like a guilty puppy, the motion so endearingly transparent it makes Satoru want to laugh.
Frankly, it's adorable.
That might be one of the reasons Satoru enjoys being around him so much.
Well—no. Not exactly.
Satoru enjoys being around Yuuji because the boy is the only one who seems to properly appreciate the effort Satoru puts into making every lesson entertaining. Being the strongest sorcerer alive does not excuse poor teaching methods.
The Great Gojo Satoru takes his job very seriously.
Clearly, the children simply lack taste.
The second-years, for example, are downright depressing. Megumi walks around with a permanent raincloud over his head, his shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world, and Nobara treats every class like an unfortunate obligation unless bribery is involved—specifically the kind where Satoru hands over his credit card. Even then, Nobara only occasionally humors him, her interest lasting about as long as it takes for the transaction to be completed.
But Yuuji?
Yuuji laughs at Satoru's jokes—genuinely laughs, with his head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners. He eagerly volunteers for demonstrations, his hand shooting up before Satoru has even finished explaining. He allows himself to be dragged into impromptu "teaching exercises" that are, admittedly, only about seventy percent educational. Sometimes less.
His sweet, earnest Yuuji who always seems ready to jump headfirst into Satoru's shenanigans without hesitation.
Honestly, it can be a little worrying.
Satoru once saw Nanami pull Yuuji aside in the hallway, and overheard their conversation. Nanami’s voice heavy with the particular brand of disapproval he reserves exclusively for Satoru. Nanami had told him—very seriously—that "indulging Gojo too much would only encourage bad habits" which only made Satoru roll his eyes because duh, encouraging bad habits was half the point.
The audacity.
Naturally, Yuuji had laughed awkwardly, scratched the back of his neck, and redirected the conversation somewhere else entirely. Probably baked goods. Satoru had never felt more vindicated.
He sighs contentedly now, leaning lazily against the classroom doorway, arms folded behind his head as warm afternoon air drifts through the corridor, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms from the courtyard. The sunlight filters through the windows, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floors.
Then his entire view suddenly turns pink.
"Sensei!"
Satoru straightens slightly, a smile already forming as Yuuji practically bounces toward him, all bright energy and flushed cheeks.
"Yuuji-kun," he says brightly. "Welcome back! How was your mission?"
Yuuji stands right in front of him, practically glowing with energy. Up close, he looks perfectly fine—maybe a few shallow scratches along his cheek and jaw, but nothing serious. Good.
"It was easy!" Yuuji says, grinning wide enough to rival the sun. "We finished it really fast."
Of course they did, Satoru wouldn’t expect less from his students.
"Since we finished early, we explored the area a bit," Yuuji continues, lifting the shopping bag hanging from his wrist. "Oh! And I got you something."
Satoru pauses.
"...Me?"
The word comes out dramatically, as it should.
He straightens to his full height, towering over Yuuji as if this development requires proper ceremony. The shift in posture makes Yuuji tilt his head back to maintain eye contact, exposing more of his throat.
"Yup!" Yuuji pops the p enthusiastically before digging through the bag. After a moment, he produces a small box wrapped in thin paper.
Mochi.
Satoru accepts the box carefully. The packaging is cheap—thin cardboard, slightly crumpled edges, the kind of thing sold at small roadside shops rather than famous dessert stores. Which means these mochis probably won't be the best sweets he's ever eaten.
But Satoru is not particularly picky when it comes to sugar, especially when it comes from Yuuji.
"You didn't have to buy me anything," Satoru says, though he's already opening the box. "Still, this is sweet of you."
Yuuji smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. The motion stretches the red collar (the one that Satoru had graciously customed ordered specifically for Yuuji) of his uniform, revealing a sliver of collarbone that catches the light.
"Well, sensei always buys stuff for us," he says. "So I thought maybe we could return the favor."
We.
He chuckles, already certain this was Yuuji’s idea. Megumi and Nobara, after all, would never spare a second thought—or a yen—on buying something for him. The gesture is so achingly sweet that Satoru has to resist the urge to pull the boy into a crushing embrace, to hold him close enough that the distance between them disappears entirely. Something warm settles in his chest, unexpected and soft, spreading through him like honey. Honestly… anyone would be lucky to have someone like Yuuji as their husband.
Satoru pops a mochi into his mouth.
Sweetness bursts across his tongue, soft rice dough giving way to smooth filling. He hums in satisfaction, his eyes closing briefly behind his blindfold as he savors the taste.
"Good, right?" Yuuji asks eagerly, leaning a little closer. The movement brings him within inches of Satoru, close enough that Satoru can feel the warmth radiating from his body, can smell the faint scent of sweat and something uniquely Yuuji.
"I made sure to try all the flavors before picking the ones sensei would like."
Satoru grins.
"Yuuji-kun chose well."
Satoru reaches for another, but instead of eating it right away, he finds himself watching Yuuji—the quiet focus, the sincerity behind something as simple as picking snacks. That warmth from earlier nudges at him again, turning into a different kind of curiosity.
"Hey, Yuuji-kun," he says, casual, almost offhand. "What’s your type?"
Yuuji blinks. "Huh?"
A second passes before his eyes narrow slightly.
"...Sensei, are you seriously asking me that too?"
Satoru just tilts his head, smiling like it’s the most normal question in the world.
Yuuji exhales through his nose, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he props his chin in his hand, slipping into thought, brow furrowing as he searches for an answer.
"Well… Todo asked me that before. During the Goodwill Event."
Ah.
That tracks.
"Oh yeah?" Satoru hums. "What’d you tell him?"
Yuuji shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish under Satoru’s gaze.
"I mean… if I had to pick… probably someone tall. With a big butt. Like Jennifer Lawrence."
A tall woman.
With a big ass.
Jennifer Lawrence.
Satoru freezes for half a second—then bursts into laughter, shoulders shaking. The sound rings a little too loudly down the otherwise empty room, bouncing off the windows and wooden floor.
"For real?"
Yuuji’s face heats up instantly. He straightens, frowning, a flicker of embarrassment breaking through. “There’s nothing wrong with that!”
"I didn’t say there was," Satoru replies.
He's still grinning, waving a hand as if to calm him down. He pops another mochi into his mouth, chewing lazily, the sweetness barely registering now.
"Well," Satoru adds after a moment, nudging Yuuji lightly with his elbow, "one day you’ll find a nice woman, settle down, and have a million babies for me to spoil. Sounds like a plan, yeah?"
Yuuji hums, gaze drifting down the hallway, like he’s actually considering it. His voice growing considerably quieter. "Hmm… if I find a woman, that is."
Satoru pauses mid-chew before forcing himself to swallow.
The casual rhythm of the moment stutters.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh," Yuuji glances back at him, expression open, almost absentminded. "I’m not totally against dating men either." He tilts his head again. "I guess if I had a type for that… I'd like a tall guy."
A pause.
"Kind of like you, sensei!"
Satoru blinks.
Once.
Twice.
His mouth opens.
Closes.
Meanwhile, Yuuji's attention has already been violently stolen by a nail flying past his head at alarming speed.
"HEY!" Nobara's voice echoes down the hallway.
Yuuji ducks with impressive reflexes, his movements fluid and practiced. Satoru briefly catches Nobara yelling at Yuuji, scolding him for running off without them.
Satoru barely registers the argument.
Because—
Huh.
Slowly, Satoru tilts his head.
Does Yuuji have a crush on him?
…He must.
The evidence is frankly overwhelming.
Exhibit A: bringing him sweets from a mission. Sure, Yuuji said it was because Satoru buys things for the students all the time, but that sounds exactly like the kind of excuse someone would make when hiding a crush. The way Yuuji had watched him eat the first mochi, his eyes bright with anticipation—that wasn't just politeness.
Exhibit B: the leaning. Yuuji leaned closer when asking if the mochi tasted good. Close enough that Satoru could count his eyelashes, could see the tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Leaning implies investment. Investment implies emotional attachment.
Exhibit C: "I would like a tall man too—kind of like you, sensei!"
Yes.
That seems fairly definitive.
Satoru presses his fingers into his cheeks, squishing his face slightly as he stares ahead. His skin is warm beneath his touch—warmer than it should be.
He exhales slowly through his nose, gaze unfocused, somewhere past the long stretch of hallway and the late afternoon light spilling in through the windows.
This is… a situation.
His fingers slide down, dragging lightly over his jaw before he drops his hand altogether, shoulders settling as if he can physically shrug the thought off. As a responsible adult, Satoru obviously cannot encourage a student’s crush.
Absolutely not. Irresponsible. Morally questionable. Possibly illegal.
He huffs under his breath, nudging an empty mochi wrapper with the toe of his shoe, watching it crinkle and slide across the floor. No, the correct course of action is to gently reject Yuuji when the time inevitably comes. Very gently. Satoru tilts his head back against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment.
After all, Yuuji is—
Well.
Yuuji.
Sweet. Earnest. Endearingly dumb, sometimes.
Satoru’s gaze drifts sideways, landing on him without meaning to.
The kind of kid who taste-tests every flavor of mochi before buying them.
The kind who laughs at the worst jokes like they’re actually funny.
Yuuji shifts a little where he stands, sunlight catching in his hair, and for a second it’s almost distracting.
The kind whose smile makes the whole hallway feel brighter and somehow, stupidly, makes the weight of being the strongest feel just a little lighter.
Satoru clears his throat internally.
Irrelevant.
He pushes himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders once like he can shake the thoughts loose, and starts back down the hallway. The late afternoon light stretches long across the floor, and it doesn’t take more than a few steps before familiar voices come back into earshot.
Yuuji, Nobara, and Megumi—exactly where he knew he would find them. Yuuji’s in the middle of saying something, hands moving as he talks, bright and animated in a way that immediately draws the eye. Satoru doesn’t let himself hesitate. With practiced ease, he slips right back into their space and drapes himself over Yuuji’s shoulders like an oversized cat, all limbs and weight and zero regard for personal boundaries.
The sudden pressure nudges Yuuji forward a step.
Yuuji stiffens instantly and then, very predictably, melts.
The tension drains from his shoulders as quickly as it came, and he leans back into Satoru without thinking, settling into the hold like it’s something familiar, something safe. Their bodies slot together with an ease that feels… a little too natural.
The reaction hits harder than it should.
Satoru stills, just for a fraction of a second.
Interesting.
He lets his chin dip slightly, close enough to catch the faint scent of Yuuji’s hair, warm and clean.
That reaction is quietly filed away for later analysis—right alongside the memory of flushed cheeks and easy, unguarded honesty.
A beat passes.
Then, just as quickly—
Satoru smiles.
Bright. Easy. Effortless.
Like nothing at all is out of place.
"Alright!" Satoru announces cheerfully, steering the group toward the classroom. His arm remains draped over Yuuji's shoulders, a casual weight that feels anything but. "Great work today, everyone!"
The classroom door slides open with a soft hiss.
"Now," he continues brightly, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room, "time for the most important lesson of the day."
A dramatic pause.
"How to cut corners on those damn mission reports."
Yuuji laughs.
The sound is warm and bright and far too satisfying, vibrating through Satoru's chest where their bodies are still pressed together.
Satoru decides not to think about that.
At all.
Later that night, Satoru lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The mochi box sits on his nightstand, empty save for one lonely piece he'd saved for last. He should be sleeping. He has an early meeting with the higher-ups tomorrow, another tedious discussion about curse-related politics that makes him want to gouge his own eyes out.
Instead, his mind keeps replaying the afternoon.
Kind of like you, sensei!
The words echo in his head, accompanied by the image of Yuuji's earnest face, his brown eyes wide and honest. There was no guile there, no hesitation. Just simple, straightforward truth.
Because Yuuji is a terrible liar.
And if he said it, he meant it.
Satoru groans, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow. This is complicating things. He's spent months carefully cultivating a professional relationship with his students—well, as professional as he ever gets. He's their teacher, their mentor, their guardian. He's the one who's supposed to guide them, not... not whatever this is.
But then he remembers the way Yuuji had looked at him when he'd accepted the mochi, the genuine pleasure in his smile. The way he'd melted into Satoru's touch, so natural and unthinking. The way he laughs at Satoru's jokes even when they're not funny.
The way his presence makes everything feel a little less heavy.
Satoru sits up, running a hand through his hair. He's Gojo Satoru. He doesn't do complications. He doesn't do... feelings. Not like this. Not for a student.
Except.
Except Yuuji isn't just a student, is he? He's the boy who took on Sukuna's curse without hesitation. The boy who cares so deeply about everyone around him. The boy who makes Satoru want to be better, even when he's being his most chaotic self.
The boy who, apparently, has a crush on him.
Satoru reaches for the last mochi, unwrapping it slowly. The paper crinkles in the quiet room. He pops it into his mouth, letting the sweetness spread across his tongue. It's not the best mochi he's ever had, but it's the one that matters most.
He thinks about Yuuji taste-testing each flavor, carefully selecting the ones he thought Satoru would like. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture makes something ache in his chest.
This is dangerous territory.
But as Satoru lies back down, the taste of mochi still on his tongue, he can't help but wonder what it would be like to lean in closer, to close the distance between them, to see if Yuuji's lips taste as sweet as the sweets he brings.
He closes his eyes, but all he can see is Yuuji's smile.
This is going to be a problem.
A very big, very complicated, very Yuuji-shaped problem.
And for the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru has absolutely no idea what to do about it.