Geto Suguru is many things.
He's a special grade sorcerer, one of four in all of Japan. It only seems impressive because most sorcerers aren't aware that the classification speaks more to the potential of his cursed technique rather than any grand accomplishment on his part. In a different world, perhaps he'd be strong enough to choke down curse after curse, building up the cursed spirits under his control until they numbered in the thousands rather than a few dozen.
But he doesn't need to push himself past his limit. Being born into the age of Gojo Satoru is both a blessing and a curse. There's no need to compete to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, not when it's a title Satoru has captured with the effortlessness with which he accomplishes everything. Perhaps there was a time when the two of them stood on equal footing, but it's now in Satoru's distant past.
When faced with the limits of his own power, Gojo Satoru rose to a god-like status.
And by trying to keep up, Suguru nearly lost himself.
But there's not a reason to push himself like that, not anymore. He rarely takes on missions (never alone, not in years), instead spending most of his time teaching the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. The first years at Jujutsu Tech are his responsibility, and he does his best to prepare them for not only the challenges they'll face while in school, but for the rest of their lives as sorcerers. He never feels like he does enough, but he manages to keep them alive and mostly unharmed.
Given their line of work, maybe that's all he can ask for.
Last year's class was Suguru's most difficult by far, even before special grade sorcerer Okkotsu Yuuta joined them, but he somehow got them through everything in one piece. Though perhaps the best thing he was able to do was secure Yuuta an immersion trip in Africa for the next year. Suguru knows that the further he can keep the youngest special grade sorcerer away from the higher ups, the better off Yuuta will be for it.
Neither he nor Satoru trust the higher ups, conservative old fools who would prop up a destructive status quo at the cost of countless lives. They fear anyone they can't control, which is perhaps why each special grade sorcerer chafes against their leadership.
It's part of the reason Satoru is so often sent off on long-term assignments, a transparent attempt to keep his influence far from the next generation. Though another reason Satoru's so often sent away with barely a moment to breathe in between assignments is that he lives up to his title of the strongest. He's able to do what no one else can: come home each time.
Tonight is Satoru's first proper night back in Tokyo in months, and Suguru would have preferred to spend it in. They could have ordered food, watched some terrible movie of Satoru's choosing, and spent the evening catching up. It's what Suguru would have preferred had he been hopping from mission to mission, finally getting a moment to rest. But something as simple as jetlag is beneath Satoru.
No, Satoru had heard about some expensive restaurant opening and insisted that they check it out together. He'd thrown enough money at the poor host to earn them a place at the front of the line and a premium table after only a few minutes' wait. Despite the crowded room, their booth provides an illusion of privacy. It sits against a wall-length window that provides an unblocked view of a churning river, waves illuminated by gentle moonlight. Suguru presses his fingertips to the cool glass, letting them chill before bringing them to his temples.
Satoru's phone has been vibrating incessantly since they were seated, though he keeps silencing it without so much as a glance. Logically, Suguru knows there are many people who'd have a reason to want his attention, some more important than others…but maybe there's someone else who's excited by Satoru's return to Tokyo, someone else hoping to have time with Satoru before he has to leave on his next assignment. Something close to jealousy settles like an unwelcome weight on Suguru's chest.
If Satoru notices the way Suguru's mood is souring, he chooses not to say anything about it. Instead, he silences his phone for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes before looking from their expensive view to Suguru. A heavy cloth blindfold obscures his eyes, but Suguru can sense his child-like excitement. "I brought you a gift," Satoru announces with a wide smirk, reaching into his pocket.
Suguru braces himself for some oddly flavored candy or gaudy trinket. He's received his fair share of both over the years. The candies he usually passes on to Mimiko or Nanako, the trinkets he shoves into a drawer.
But it's not some simple bauble Satoru produces. Suguru's empty stomach twists when instead Satoru uncurls his fingers to reveal an opaque ball of cursed energy. It looks tiny in his palm, but Suguru can imagine the way it would stick going down his throat.
The technique to trap a curse's essence isn't actually that difficult; Suguru taught it to Satoru and Shoko when they were all first years. Once it's been contained, it's satisfying to crush a cursed spirit into oblivion.
Swallowing it is much less so.
"Thought it was kind of cool. A grade two. It could breathe fire and ice," Satoru explains. He deposits it on the small white plate in front of Suguru as if it's an appetizer, not something indescribably vile. "Could be useful if you want it."
Satoru should know more than anyone else that it's not a matter of what Suguru wants. Satoru knows how few curses Suguru's consumed over the last few years, barely enough to replace those he's lost in fights.
Suguru picks up the curse and rolls it around in his palms. During most of his time as a student at Jujutsu Tech, he was consuming at least a curse a week. He didn't allow himself time to slow down, to gulp down fresh air in between curses. He thought without any kind of reprieve from the taste, he could get used to the nature of his technique.
He'd been wrong.
He knows Satoru is studying him, wanting to see how he'll react. And so when he slides the curse into the pocket of his jacket, he's careful not to search Satoru's face for what he knows will be thinly veiled disappointment.
Both Satoru and Shoko have tried to help Suguru balance the drawbacks of his cursed technique. When they were first years, Shoko would always make sure to give him an anti-nausea pill along with whatever curse she'd procured for him. Eventually, cigarettes replaced medicine, though neither were ever particularly helpful. Like Shoko, Satoru assumed all Suguru needed was something else to wash out the taste of curses, and so he'd always buy candies for the two of them to share.
He doesn't know how to tell them how nothing wipes away the vile taste of a curse. He knows that to them, and likely every other high ranking sorcerer, it seems like he's all but given up.
Satoru's phone begins to vibrate again. It's silenced for a few seconds before the buzzing resumes. Each buzz squeezes Suguru's chest tighter, each vibration jostling deeply buried feelings closer to the surface. He's the one who's been adamant that the two of them not pursue an exclusive relationship. It doesn't make sense, not when Satoru is gone for such long stretches, not when Suguru spends half their time together questioning how he tolerates Satoru in the first place.
Suguru doesn't have the right to be jealous. And yet he is. "Are you going to get that?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"We haven't seen each other in a month."
"It sounds like someone needs you."
Satoru lets out a low whine like a child being scolded. "Fine." He flips his phone over and frowns at the unfamiliar number, letting his index finger hover over the screen rather than accepting the call. "It's one of the higher ups," he explains. "I should probably go outside and take this."
Whatever Satoru's done to get on their bad side, Suguru doesn't want any part of it. He hums in acknowledgment and looks back down at his glossy menu while Satoru climbs out of their booth and quickly disappears.
Only once he's sure Satoru is gone does Suguru pull the ball of cursed energy back out of his pocket.
It's one curse. Back when he was a student, he was swallowing every single one he defeated, as well as the ones that Shoko and Satoru deemed worthy of bringing back for him. It had been a never-ending cycle.
Exorcise. Consume. Exorcise. Consume.
Now Suguru struggles to recall the last time he forced a curse down his throat. A few months ago? Longer than that?
It shouldn't be a big event, but of course it is now that he's in his head. The steps are so simple though. He just needs to open his mouth and swallow. The curse will then be his until it's struck down in a fight.
But the taste will linger in his mouth all night, and the freshly acquired cursed spirit will buzz just underneath his skin, tainting his cursed energy with its own. It will chafe at its new confines for anywhere from hours to days before coming to terms with the transactional nature of its existence.
He pockets the curse just in time before a waiter shows up. He orders for himself and Satoru, knowing Satoru's preferences as well as he knows his own. Satoru's mainly interested in the dessert menu, and Suguru has spent too much time reflecting on the taste of a curse to have any real appetite, so he decides on small, light dishes and waves his hand in dismissal when the waiter asks if they want any appetizers.
When left alone, Suguru rests his forehead against the cold glass of the window and studies the view several stories below. Tokyo never rests, and the streets are full of people even at this hour. This high up, they look like nothing more than insects. Tiny ants in need of protection. The weight in his pocket feels so, so heavy. Suguru chooses to close his eyes rather than continue to enjoy the view.
Satoru returns five minutes later looking more than just patronized. There's a downward curve to his lips, the hint of worry lines creasing the fabric of his blindfold. It's a bad sign that he doesn't even bother to sit down before launching into his explanation. "So I sent Megumi on an assignment for me," he begins. "And it sounds like it isn't going well. We should probably go check up on him."
Suguru stands up and waits as Satoru fishes a wad of money out of his pocket, tossing it down unceremoniously on the table as payment. Suguru didn't pay attention to the prices on the menu (he long ago learned to accept that Satoru has more money than any one person ought to possess), but he knows Satoru's left a more than generous tip considering they didn't actually get to have anything other than a few sips of water.
"Do I want to know what assignment you sent Megumi on?" Suguru asks.
"Ah, well." The fact that Satoru doesn't readily contribute more has Suguru feeling uneasy. There's little overlap between the missions that would be appropriate for a special grade sorcerer and a first-year student, though perhaps naively, Suguru hopes some strange sense of familial affection would keep Satoru from sending Megumi on an assignment too hopelessly out of his league. "I bet Megumi just forgot to check in with the higher ups when he got back," Satoru continues. "Let's not jump to conclusions."
They step out of the restaurant, and Satoru holds out a hand. "Come on, I'll jump us there. And then we can come right back once we know everything's fine."
Suguru scans the hallway. There are only a few scattered people, none paying them any close attention. Still, it wouldn't do well for someone to glance up at the exact moment the two of them disappear. Between Satoru's height and eccentric appearance, he often attracts attention.
"Fine. But let's use an elevator," Suguru says.
Satoru nods. He starts down the hall at a brisk pace. "We're headed to Sugisawa High School," he explains. There's not a sense of panic in his voice, though there is an uncharacteristic urgency. "I sent Megumi there to retrieve a cursed object."
"You do realize he's my student, and I haven't even sent him on a solo mission yet."
"Huh." Satoru tilts his head. "Haven't you been training him for a couple months now?"
They reach the elevator and Suguru hits the button with more force than necessary. "I didn't think he was ready to go out on his own yet."
Having only one student isn't normal, though perhaps it's for the best given how much instruction Megumi has needed. Despite an abundance of cursed energy and a strong cursed technique, he currently lacks many qualities a jujutsu sorcerer needs, the most significant being confidence in his own capabilities. But their one-on-one instruction is coming to a close though; another student is set to join in a few weeks. Suguru would never tell Satoru, but he hopes she has more promise.
The elevator doors open with a loud ring, revealing a small space that's thankfully empty. The two step inside, and the moment the doors slide shut, Satoru pulls Suguru close. Suguru braces himself for the feeling of the ground being swept out from under him, still an unpleasant sensation no matter how many times he's experienced it, but it doesn't come. Instead, Satoru presses him forcefully against the far wall. He tilts his head forward, giving Suguru a fraction of a moment to object before leaning down for a hungry kiss.
Satoru tastes like the sugary confection he bought on their walk to the restaurant. His teeth scrape against Suguru's lower lip, asking for permission that Suguru is all too willing to grant. The two of them may not be in a relationship, but they've been together for the past ten years. For better or worse, Satoru knows exactly what Suguru wants and how he likes it. He knows how to kiss Suguru in a way that still leaves him breathless.
Though it helps that Satoru is equally flushed when he pulls away, as if the two of them are still fumbling teens rather than adults who have done much more than steal kisses in fleeting moments alone.
It feels nice, as if the stresses of the evening can be forgotten in the private moment the two of them share, their foreheads pressed together as their breathing slows to a shared rhythm. Then Satoru chooses to ruin the moment by saying, "So I guess you haven't been swallowing curses lately."
Suguru narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to protest. It's Satoru who's insisted time and time again that he can't taste them, that the only place they can be detected is in the swirl of Suguru's cursed energy when they're newly absorbed.
"You don't let me kiss you when you have," Satoru adds, as if that bit of information will save Suguru's worsening mood.
Suguru's glare sharpens. "I thought Megumi needed us."
"Right. I forgot about that." Satoru takes Suguru's hands in his own, giving him a gentle squeeze of warning. And then they're moving through space, directly into whatever mess Satoru has created for the two of them.
"See, Suguru? I told you Megumi has everything under control. We'll just check in and then get back to our date before they even notice we left, okay?"
Despite everything, some of the tension leaves Megumi's body at the sight of the two strongest jujutsu sorcerers. Gojo Satoru stands tall, his white hair pushed up by his blindfold giving him the illusion of even more height. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his demeanor relaxed. Next to him, Geto Suguru seems even more stoic, like a statue cut from marble as he pulls back the hood of his deep purple jacket.
The wave of adrenaline Megumi's been riding comes crashing down, leaving him with barely enough energy to continue holding his head up. He blinks blood from his eyes, looking up at the two of them. Somehow Geto-sensei's look of displeasure is worse than everything that's already been thrown at him tonight. "You're sure about that?" his teacher asks coolly.
Great. Megumi's already disappointed his teacher, and Sugruu doesn't even know the full scope of events.
Satoru just laughs Suguru's concern off, still on Megumi's side at least for a few more moments. "You got Sukuna's finger. Right, Megumi?"
Megumi feels like he can momentarily breathe again when Suguru's look of displeasure is turned on Satoru. "You sent him to collect one of Sukuna's fingers?" he demands.
"Well-" Satoru starts.
"Um, so." The fourth person standing among them finally speaks up, calling attention to himself. Suguru and Satoru turn to look at the pink-haired teen who's somehow come out of the chaos with only a few scrapes. And then Itadori Yuuji, still not grasping the magnitude of what he's done, says, "I kind of...ate it?"
Satoru's mouth opens in surprise.
The worry lines on Suguru's forehead deepen.
It takes Satoru less than a minute to confirm what Megumi has already realized: that Itadori Yuuji is actually able to contain the King of Curses and maybe even swap places with him at will, though both Suguru and Megumi deflate when Satoru requests that Yuuji give him ten seconds with Sukuna.
Suguru is quick to understand that Satoru isn't gearing up for a friendly chat. Megumi tenses when his teacher grabs him by the collar of his jacket and tugs him along. "Come with me," Suguru says. "This is going to get messy."
The two of them find a safe spot less than twenty feet away, somewhat protected by the rubble of what used to be the school's courtyard. Megumi knows that if any real threat gets near them, Geto-sensei will be able to summon one of his curses to protect him. And so deciding he doesn't have any shred of reputation left to defend, he sinks down to his knees in exhaustion.
Megumi can see the black marks on Yuuji's body, though he's too far away to see the second set of eyes. The aura of power emitted by the curse was like nothing he'd ever felt before, leaving him frozen with fear. Yet in the midst of his faceoff with a thousand-year-old curse, Satoru's cocky declaration echoes loudly through the air: "My boyfriend's watching, so I think I'll show off a bit."
Suguru lets out an irritated breath and says something low before sinking down to Megumi's level, staring at him appraisingly with dark eyes that always seem to convey displeasure. Megumi hisses when Suguru brushes his hair away from his forehead and gently prods at his wound. "It's fine, Geto-sensei," he insists.
"It's not fine," Suguru replies in his low, measured tone. "You should have been able to tell that this was too big of an assignment for you to handle on your own."
An excuse forms on Megumi's lips, but he thinks better of it. Excuses always make things with Geto-sensei worse. He instead chooses to stay quiet as Suguru retrieves basic first aid supplies from the deep pockets of his jacket and sets to work cleaning and dressing the cut on Megumi's forehead.
Suguru works quickly and efficiently while less than twenty feet away, the newly manifested thousand-year-old cursed spirit spars with the strongest sorcerer of this generation. Suguru doesn't seem to be worried about how Satoru will fare, so Megumi tries not to be either.
"I don't think he should have to die," Megumi confides quietly. "He only ate that finger because he was trying to save his friends." And me , he adds to himself.
Suguru takes in Megumi's plea with the same impassiveness he often displays, his gaze then flicking over to Satoru and Yuuji. There's a long moment of silence before he finally speaks. "It looks like he actually might be able to control Sukuna," he remarks, getting to his feet. "Don't get up. You stay here."
"Please, sensei," Megumi calls after him.
Suguru glances back only briefly, a flash of irritation quickly fading to his more stoic mask. "Let the adults handle this," he says.
Megumi is too exhausted to protest further, then too far away to hear the conversation the two of them have with Yuuji. He should get up. He should tell Satoru what he's just told Suguru. He should insist that Itadori Yuuji doesn't deserve to be exorcised. Satoru will listen to him.
But he's so tired. And beyond that, he's nothing more than a grade two sorcerer who doesn't even deserve that rank. He doesn't have any kind of bargaining power over two of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the world. This entire assignment has been out of his league. So Megumi closes his eyes, letting fatigue weigh him down.
Megumi isn't sure how much time has passed when he hears footsteps approach him. With what feels like Herculean effort, he manages to crack his eyes open to see Suguru carrying an unconscious Yuuji as if he weighs nothing. Satoru holds out a hand to Megumi, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go home," he says.
"What's going to happen?" Megumi asks quietly.
Satoru grins down at him. "Leave it to Gojo Satoru to straighten everything out."
It does little to reassure him.
It's late by the time Satoru lets himself into Suguru's apartment using the spare key that Suguru constantly regrets having given him. Satoru doesn't even bother to take off his shoes as he waltzes through, announcing his presence by collapsing onto the bed next to Suguru. "I wish you would have helped me with the higher ups," he whines.
Suguru doesn't look up from the book he's been reading. "This is your mess to clean up," he says.
"Remind me again why I can't just kill them all?"
Suguru hums, pretending to consider the matter. They've had this conversation too many times, and his response never changes. "You could, but then who would want to follow you?" He carefully marks his place in his book and sets it aside, now giving Satoru his full attention. "What did they decide?"
"Oh, so now you're interested?"
"That's not fair."
Satoru huffs and pulls his blindfold down. Suguru's seen Satoru's eyes more times than he can count, but the intensity of his gaze never fails to raise his pulse. It may be for Satoru's own benefit that he keeps them covered, but Suguru's always been thankful not to have to constantly stare into those eyes that contain the sky.
"A stay of execution until he eats all twenty fingers," Satoru explains. "Or as many as he can consume before he can't control Sukuna anymore, I suppose. But I think he's going to be able to do it, so he's going to join the other first years and you'll start training him."
Now that's something Suguru hadn't expected. He shuts his eyes, reviewing the plans he's made for his class over the next few weeks. Tomorrow he'll need to actually consider what this means. For tonight, he's too tired.
"It's late," he says. "We should go to sleep."
Satoru gives him a smirk, though he adjusts his pillow and grabs one of the blankets. "Why? It's not like you have any first years to train bright and early tomorrow morning."
"And whose fault is that?"
Satoru's smile wavers. He stares at Suguru in that way Suguru wishes he wouldn't. It makes him wonder exactly what Satoru can see with his Six Eyes. "Does it ever get exhausting being so disappointed in everyone except your kids?" he asks.
Mimiko and Nanako. It's not their fault that they're the only unfailingly sensible people in Suguru's life. "They're not my kids any more than Megumi and Tsumiki are yours," he defends.
Satoru flicks his gaze up to the ceiling. "That's not true."
"Why-"
"Come on, Suguru. Let's not fight. I just wanted tonight to be a nice night for us, you know?"
And the result is now a mess unfurling before them.
Suguru reaches over to turn off the lamp on his nightstand. The first time he ever spent the night with Satoru, he half expected Satoru's eyes to glow in the dark. Now there's comfortable familiarity in laying in bed next to the strongest sorcerer in the world. He lays on his side, facing Satoru and studying his profile in the near dark, waiting to see if Satoru will be able to fall asleep.
Only once he judges that Satoru is still equally awake does he say, "You know I don't actually want the boy to die...right? Satoru?"
Satoru reaches up a hand, absently playing with Suguru's bangs. "I know."
They don't need to repeat the same speech they've had so many times. They're both equally frustrated with the structure of the jujutsu world, the higher ups, the way they're forced to send their students out into the world well before they're ready for the things they'll have to see. But they both know there's no easy fix.
And so Satoru works to preserve the balance of the world while Suguru tries to train up students who will be able to truly change things.
"It's Nanako's birthday tomorrow," Suguru says. A peace offering. "She wants us to go to some new crepe stand for lunch. Will you come with us?"
Even in the darkness, Suguru can see the way Satoru wrinkles his nose.
"You've never tried crepes so don't tell me-"
"They still don't like me," Satoru interrupts.
It's a rare moment of social awareness for Satoru. In any other circumstance, Suguru would be proud of him.
Suguru only recently convinced Mimiko and Nanako that they're old enough to live on their own. They now share a bedroom in the girls' dormitory instead of a small apartment with him. He knows they're not happy about it. He also knows the fact that Satoru spends most of his nights in Tokyo with Suguru is another strike against him.
"And don't you dare say they just need to warm up to me," Satoru adds.
Suguru can imagine Satoru's bratty expression. It brings the ghost of a smile to his lips. "Get Nanako something for her birthday and she'll love you," he suggests. He pulls a heavy blanket over the two of them, allowing Satoru to wrap an arm around him and pull him against his chest.
But he can't sleep. Not yet. "Satoru."
"Mm. Sleep time."
"Why did you send Megumi on that mission?" Suguru asks. He has a theory. A few of them, actually. At the very least, he needs to hear Satoru tell him that he sent Megumi on that assignment for a better reason than freeing himself up for a date.
"He's been struggling lately. Figured it would be a good confidence boost."
"Is that all?" It's not surprising that Satoru and Megumi have been talking. For better or worse, Satoru is the closest thing to a father figure that Megumi has. But Suguru wonders if Megumi has outright told Satoru how poorly things are going, or if it's a conclusion Satoru's reached for himself.
"Experience is a good teacher," Satoru adds. "You can't shelter your students forever."
It's too late and Suguru has no desire to rehash their same argument. Still, he says, "Not every sorcerer needs to be forced to grow under pressure."
"But we were," Satoru points out.
Suguru closes his eyes. "Exactly." Satoru faced death and rose to god-like status, and yet he still fails to understand that he's the exception, not the rule.
Suguru reaches out, wrapping his fingers around the cursed spirit ball that rests on his nightstand. He has to fight against the instinct to crush it, to slam it into the pages of the philosophy book he's slowly making his way through and end its miserable existence.
It's the accumulation of negative human emotion, their worst qualities finding a tangible form. Its taste is disgusting, worse than a rag used to wipe up vomit. The taste lingers for days no matter what he does.
"What are you thinking?" Satoru asks.
Mimiko and Nanako need him. His students need him. Even Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, may soon face something he can't handle alone.
Satoru's cursed technique requires enough mental power to literally fry his brain, yet he's found a way to keep it running nearly constantly. In contrast, all Suguru needs to do is open his mouth and swallow. Maybe he shouldn't have been so willing to give up all those years ago, to set fifty curses as his hard limit.
Suguru untangles himself from Satoru's arms and gets out of bed. He scoops up the curse and makes his decision. He doesn't want to do this in front of Satoru.
"Wait. You don't have to do this alone, you know?"
"I know."
A teenage boy swallowed one of Sukuna's fingers. He can do this. He needs to do this, to prove to himself that he still can.
He locks himself in the bathroom and studies the swirling ball in his hand. The urge to crush it is so, so strong. Jujutsu sorcerers should rid the world of curses, not partner with them. It takes conscious effort to unlock the muscles of his jaw. He brings the curse to his lips, pausing for an eternity captured within a moment.
He shoves it down his throat and forces himself to swallow, clamping his hands over his mouth to suppress a gag reflex. It takes four deep gulps before he feels the curse settle inside him.
The first curse he's consumed in months.
It'll be far from the last.