Satoru finds Uchiha Obito somewhere between a mass of curses, engaging them all in battle.

He had seen Uchiha Obito fight before, of course, when first meeting it. But that was nothing short of an execution rather than a fight. Something more akin to a quick jab to exorcise a curse and less so a fight that requires more thought. It was enough to prove that Uchiha Obito was powerful, but Satoru hadn't realized that he'd never seen Uchiha Obito really fight before.

He's witnessing that now.

There's something decidedly elegant about it, something like a dance wherein two enter and only one will leave alive.

Uchiha Obito fights like all it has known is battle.

It fights like it knows nothing else than this. The midst of battle, curses on all sides, the red of its eyes, the murky dark of curses' blood. It moves and dark blood stains at its robes, but none of it is its own blood. It fights with everything it has, almost without thought. There are no wasted motions, no extra movement. Just quick, simple, efficient.

Battle is an artform, and Uchiha Obito paints in simple strokes.

But that is all that is needed.

It doesn't make it any less grand, it doesn't make it any less to see and witness.

It is as though something from another time has been captured in a capsule, as though a part of a painting has walked out and came alive right in front of Satoru's eyes. Ancient paint strokes become solid lines of muscles, aged pigments going flushed with color.

He can see all of it. The intricate motions of Uchiha Obito's footwork, the way it weaves in between curses and all their attacks. The way its eyes move- hypnotically- in between everything, as though able to see the whole field itself encaptured within those eyes. The way its body is able to respond to what its eyes see, the training that must've gone into that- to connect the eyes and reflexes until those eyes are nothing more than another extension of who you are. Until seeing and reacting accordingly becomes just like breathing. Something that you do without thought.

Those eyes that so many have paid their lives for.

There is something beautiful about them. The red glow of them, an antithesis to his own. Like flowers blooming from blood. Reflected in those eyes is the future of the battle, the next step of the dance.

Uchiha Obito is the one leading the rhythm of it all. It's in charge and the rest are merely reacting in turn.

There's no grand technique used. Nothing other than Uchiha Obito's own fists and a sharp, jagged thing held within his hand- formed from wood.

Just as there are no wasted movements, there are no wasted cursed energy, either. It is the minimal amount required to exorcise a curse. Uchiha Obito's own cursed energy is still suppressed. And it almost feels like Uchiha Obito is putting in more effort to suppress its own cursed energy than it is in this whole fight.

There's something thrilling about that.

It fights and it's not like the modern day jujutsu sorcerers. It fights and it fights viciously, as though any amount of energy wasted is an amount that could be the difference between life and death. There's something rote about its whole routine, as though it's used to fighting many at once and with nothing more to aid it other than a weapon and its eyes.

Uchiha Obito's heart does not beat, it does not look any more flustered than usual. It falls into the rhythm of battle as though it were breathing. As though it had been born to fight, born into battle.

There's something terrible about that. Something involving children sent to die for honor and glory. Something involving children sent to the front and fighting for their lives until all they know is the battlefield between curses and men.

The golden age of jujutsu is grand and beautiful.

Painted from the blood of the young and the stories from the old. For as many brilliant sorcerers there were, there were just as many fodder- just as many curses that needed to be exterminated and bodies that needed to be thrown at a problem until it is fixed. There is no time given for children, nothing more than training and pushing you to your limits. For battle was where they learned best, and coddling is tantamount to weakness.

And no clan wants to be weak.

It must've rang doubly true for the Uchiha clan, who relied on hanging on the precipice of death to gain access to their eyes. In order to gain honor-

You must waver before death.

And you either die; or you come out of it greater than you've ever been.

It is a fight for survival, for glory, for honor-

Just to live.

Uchiha Obito's motions are fluid, smooth, rote. A routine build from decades.

It looks barely pass its thirties.

There shouldn't bedecadesworth of fighting, and yet there is.

He tries to imagine Uchiha Obito, young. And he can't quite imagine it. He can't quite imagine a young boy fighting like this. Let alone Uchiha Obito's own admittance that it was not talented, but rather weak.

He looks at Uchiha Obito now, and he can't ever imagine that it was weak.

But that's the tragedy of Uchiha Obito.

If he hadn't grown, he would not have survived.

But if he were not weak, he would not have been near the verge of death and chosen.

He tries to imagine Uchiha Obito without scars, a young face that holds no pain. With short limbs and frail muscles, that of a child. Wearing robes with an uchiwa stitched on his back- if his clan even deigned to give him that. Holding some low grade weapon and being thrown in the midst of battle. Having to learn or die.

And he had learned.

He can't quite imagine it. He can't quite imagine an Uchiha Obito that isn't born to fight, that has no scars upon his face. That has no uchiwa stitched on his back. An honor and a brand at the same time.

Uchiha Obito, the boy, had grown into battle.

Satoru thinks he can see it, the foundations of a boy that was desperate and had to fight to survive.

Hidden as it is, the low curse energy is a testament to the fact that Uchiha Obito is used to conserving its energy. That while using its technique could be faster, it doesn't want to- nor does it need to. It's conserving its energy to prepare for another fight, as though there's always another on the horizon, something to be watched out for. Something to prepare for. Always a contingency plan at hand, always an option it could use.

Of course, it probably didn't start out like.

But, of course, it ended up like this. This is not a fighting style that came from nowhere. This is something that came out of aneed, a necessity. Of fighting and knowing that there's more to come. Of learning that you must conserve your energy for the next battle coming up, lest you become one of the dead.

Satoru had half a mind to know what that necessity is, why Uchiha Obito is holding back as though awaiting something greater.

The 'something greater' in question is the fact that Uchiha Obito is a special vessel. One that is built to exorcise other vessels.

The 'something greater' in question is the fact that Uchiha Obito must've been in constant alert as to when the pin would drop and one of his other vessels had gone and succumbed to their curses. To be alerted and to attend to his duty before things could spiral.

Satoru wonders what it must be like. To come out of a battle with other curses, to come out feeling like you've helped the world some and that you're doinggoodonly to hear that you'll have to be executing another vessel afterwards.

Uchiha Obito is the contingency plan, for there was a seal over his heart.

The other vessels must not have had any, Satoru can imagine why. No clan would be willing to let another clan hold the killswitch to their own vessel, even if it were for the greater good.

And Satoru doubts that the Uchiha clan would let any other clan have this seal, either, not without their control. For that would mean that their influence would diminish. For that would mean that Uchiha Obito would no longer be as useful.

If any clan can simply deal with their vessel when the time comes, what use is the Uchiha vessel as a control?

Satoru can already see it. The plans and powerplay made between clans. In order to propel the Uchiha vessel forward to greater prominence, their vessel must be the one in charge of dispatching the others.

Even during a time of vessels and curses, Uchiha Obito was probably isolated from the others.

Satoru can imagine why.

No one wants to make friends with their executioner.

But Uchiha Obito had.

Uchiha Obito had made friends with Gojo Kakashi, his future executioner.

There is a story there, but it has long been lost.

And now only one knows of the start and the ending.

Uchiha Obito's eyes flicker towards his own.

It's red, the shade of a blooming flower.

Its stance is calm, as usual. But ready to fight at the drop of a pin. It stands, there is no effort as it absorbs back the pointed wooden weapon it's been using. It keeps its eyes on Satoru, just like how he can't look away from it.

Satoru imagines that this was something ingrained in it as well. Something that it can't shake off, even now.

It must've noticed him since long ago, but didn't look towards him. For it didn't look surprised, nor shocked, that Satoru had been standing there all along. Satoru expected as much, it seems as sensitive as him when it comes to detecting changes in the area surrounding it.

Satoru wonders if this is something ingrained in it as well, or perhaps something that it became when it went from the boy that it was to the man that it became.

There's something tense in its posture, though. Something almost manic in the edges of its eyes.

Like there's an edge that hasn't been quite taken off and it's still wanting to grind away at more curses, more something until it's sated. It looks at him and it's almost like it's contemplating him as its next meal before deciding better on it. It's a quick decision, but Satoru can see the frustration rolling off it in waves now that he looks closer. The small pinch of its brows, the tense way its fingers curl inwards, the way it cracks its head to one side like a calming tic.

It's less put together than anytime Satoru had seen it previously. It's verging away from the cold statue that it usually is and moving on the territory of almost being human.

There's something eating away at it, and it came here to take it out.

Perhaps it had seeked comfort from a familiar routine, from the exorcising of curses. From the familiarity of battle and the comforting rhythm of its dance.

Perhaps there's something to be said here that Uchiha Obito seeks comfort by jumping into battle. But it doesn't seem like a ridiculous conjecture, not when it's likely that battle is all Uchiha Obito's life ended up being. Moving from one battlefield to the next. Always something else to exorcise, to take care of. Always something else on the horizon, always something to think about and worry over.

Always the idea that the next battle might be a clash of vessel against vessel, and there's nothing to do about it.

Satoru imagines living in battle for so long that it becomes comforting rather than stressful.

Satoru imagines that perhaps, for Uchiha Obito, the battlefield was more his home than his clan ever was.

There's something terrible about that.

Satoru tries to imagine living like that- he is- but he's not the same as Uchiha Obito. He's not the one with a clan breathing down his neck and a seal on his heart and no Six Eyes or Infinity to help alleviate the tiredness that comes from back to back battles.

Satoru takes a look at Uchiha Obito, who seems to be rapidly regaining its calm demeanor. But there's no changing the fact that he saw the fracture in its armor.

It makes it more human. It reminds Satoru that it's been eras but the human remnant of Uchiha Obito is still holding on- is still alive, somehow.

That despite being made a curse by the strongest- Uchiha Obito had somehow suppressed that entirely.

It's the stubbornness of a human. It's the last stand of a man who didn't want to live beyond when he was supposed to die but did. It's the spiteful act of a man who was made into a curse and decided to spit in the face of that and live as a human.

It's the pride of a sorcerer, refusing to succumb.

Satoru doesn't know how long that'll last. He doesn't know how long it is until the last remnant of Uchiha Obito will be stripped away in its entirety to leave behind nothing but the Juubi.

He doesn't know, but he thinks that Uchiha Obito has still got some fight in him yet.

There's something terribly wonderful about that.

Something that makes Satoru think of the man that Uchiha Obito once was and think that he was once a man with fire in his veins and a stubbornness that can outlast a mule. Something that makes him out to be more human than he portrays, something that only those observant enough could see.

Something about him that's passionate and burns like fire beneath his cold surface.

It makes the figure of Uchiha Obito, the man, in his mind more concrete. It changes him from a shadow into someone that once took breath- just as he does. It makes him into another sorcerer, someone that Satoru can imagine himself getting along well with- if only they were born in the same era.

Someone that Gojo Kakashi had loved enough to commit a taboo for. He can see it, part of the reason why- even if he doesn't have the full picture. It's the inextricable mystery of it. The duality between Uchiha Obito on the surface and the one beneath. Wherein one taste isn't enough and leaves you yearning to know more.

"Fine evening, isn't it," Satoru begins, taking a step closer as he raises a hand. Uchiha Obito does not move, some of the heat withdraws from its eyes. It is as though it is submerging itself beneath the sea once more. "Glad to see that you're being a productive member of society."

Uchiha Obito just stares at him with baleful eyes, there's something quiet in it.

"What else would I be doing?" Uchiha Obito asks, as though it were that simple.

There's multiple things it could be doing, a thousand of which involve an untold amount of civilian deaths. But for now it's not, because it's still more man than monster. And perhaps there's something to be said about that.

Satoru hums and haws, drawing it out almost obnoxiously. In what would be getting him a sigh from Nanami and a quiet huff from Ieiri.

"Well, how about meeting your cute descendent?" Satoru asks, blunt and to the point.

An off kilter blink, a small twitch of the fingers, an incremental change in the sound of its breathing.

Uchiha Obito wasn't expecting that, it seems.

Satoru gets it. Uchiha Obito is a curse, Yuta is a budding sorcerer. There's probably no good ending to be had there. Probably only heartbreak awaiting Yuta and madness awaiting Uchiha Obito.

But Satoru knows that Yuta yearns for a connection. That he wants for family, that he says the name Uchiha Obito and he mean sit. That he looks at Satoru and it's a gaze that's determined and stubborn. That says that he'll meet Uchiha Obito and Satoru will help him because Satoru's just that kind of teacher lax enough to let his student meet a curse for a family reunion and strong enough to protect him from it.

Now that Satoru thinks about it, maybe they've got a thing or two alike. Uchiha Obito and Yuta. This stubbornness of theirs. Maybe it's in the blood. This stubbornness to cling onto life at the verge of death, to want so stubbornly to live that you gain a technique out of it and come out of the fire a new being. This stubbornness to continue to move forward, even if each step is bringing you closer to madness. This stubbornness, ingrained in Uchiha Obito until now-

Uchiha Obito who wants to remain a man rather than become a beast and so whatever remnant left of that man is clinging, grasping onto the edge of a cliff and keeping himself alive. Stubbornly clinging onto his humanity or the remnants of it but it doesn't matter because one day he's going to go mad but that day will not be today.

This stubbornness, surely it must've been running in their blood.

It ended in tragedy, of course. But there's no denying that there's equal measures of stubbornness and determination to love in the face of a predetermined ending. To keep on moving even if it means tragedy- to keep their clan moving forward even if their numbers continue to fall. To cling, stubbornly, terribly- onto survival because they want to live and they want to love and they'll do both.

Even if Yuta knows that the ending that awaits is nothing but sadness, he probably wants to know of his clan's legacy. He probably wants this connection, no matter where it leads him. He's chosen this and he's sticking by it no matter what anyone else thinks.

People would often say that Yuta is different from his teacher. A polite, gentle student that usually listens to orders well enough and knows his limits, is humbled by the world and yet continues to thrive within it.

But Satoru thinks differently.

At his core, Yuta is similar to Satoru. They're similar in the fact that once they want something, there's no stopping them from reaching for it. No matter what anyone else says, no matter what anyone else thinks.

It's that ego of theirs, their innate confidence.

Yuuji's familiar in this aspect, too. And so is Maki.

So Satoru does not stop Yuta, he doesn't want to, either. This is not his decision to make. This is not his battle to fight. This is not his story to write.

This is the Uchiha clan, from then till now.

"Yuta-kun wants to meet you," Satoru elaborates, lackadaisical. "And, as his teacher, I think we're due for an ancestor-teacher conference."

Uchiha Obito just looks at him with wane eyes, it's not very expressive but Satoru can feel that there's something lurking in the depths.

"Surely you won't let Yuta-kun face this teacher conference alone, right?"

Uchiha Obito contemplates, it's a familiar thing. The small movements of consideration, the way the surrounding almost slows with Uchiha Obito. It makes Uchiha Obito more than the Juubi from before.

Uchiha Obito's heart is silent, it does not beat. But this, too, is something that is familiar. Something that almost makes it more human than not. As though, try as Uchiha Obito might, even it cannot make its heart beat, intrinsically knowing that it is dead and therefore, its heart does not beat.

The Juubi spits in the face of that, for its heart does beat.

There's a contradiction here, between the vessel and the curse. But Satoru doesn't quite know enough to be able to pin together a full picture. But oh, he thinks that he'll be able to, someday.

Uchiha Obito's eyes flicker back to Satoru's, it's not no longer red, but rather a plain black.

It's questioning, if only just a bit. It's asking the quiet question of, what's in it for me?

And they're at it again, Satoru thinks. Something familiar settling in his gut. This song and dance. This bargaining of information, of trading away pieces and trying to make sure you come away with the queen instead of a pawn. It's familiar, it's almost fun, in ways. Trying to weasel out information from Uchiha Obito because Satoru knows that Uchiha Obito plays the game just as well as he does.

"Well, you'll get to meet Yuta-kun again," Satoru says easily. "And, maybe we'll get to talk a bit about your clan history."

This is Satoru saying what he wants, this is him saying, I want this, so what doyouwant?

Uchiha Obito can see through his words easily, its eyes dipping again to look away from Satoru's eyes. Flitting up towards his hair and back down to his eyes, covered by cloth. It's searching for something within them. The way it begins to look at Satoru as a whole, from his nose right down to the tip of his fingers.

Ah, Satoru thinks he gets it.

"Alright, my family history, too. Since you're so curious."

Uchiha Obito does not ask how Satoru knows. They're both beyond the point of that. They're both veterans in this game, this subtle war of information.

Uchiha Obito is not surprised, but there's a mixture of things within his eyes. It's a number of things and none of them at the same time. In the end, it just boils down to rapt attention, placed on Satoru. There's something light to the small curl of its lips.

"Where?" Uchiha Obito asks, there's no need to speak any further on this. A deal has been made and a bargain accepted.

"Yuta-kun's home," Satoru answers easily. "I don't think I need to tell you where it is, right?"

Satoru knows this, just like how he knows that Uchiha Obito can find Yuuji even when Yuuji's within school grounds.

But he thinks he wants confirmation.

This is also a test, as just about anything between them is. A test of Uchiha Obito's willingness to divulge information.

There's a flickering of movements, Uchiha Obito's eyes honing on Satoru's own, from behind cloth. It's considering, it's thinking.

"Tell me," Uchiha Obito says. Within its eyes, a challenge. Satoru doesn't know whether it knows the layout of Tokyo, he doesn't know whether the winding streets of Tokyo offer it any respite. But he knows that Uchiha Obito already knows Yuta's location, it is just responding to his test. The first question of many, the first one to set the tone of how generous Uchiha Obito is feeling today.

"Are you sure you can find your way there?" Satoru asks. They both know that Uchiha Obito isn't familiar with these streets, not the way that they are now. Where there are towering buildings and technology more advanced than anything that Uchiha Obito can fathom.

"I can." There's a sharp edge to Uchiha Obito's eyes, another challenge. It's not familiar with these streets, nor this city. But Satoru thinks that it can find Yuta from anywhere, and not just from an address. He's pretty sure it can track them. Definitely something dangerous, but he wonders whether this is something that Uchiha Obito was or something that it became with its new state of being.

"Hmm," Satoru draws out again. Making sure to stretch it out extra long, just for Uchiha Obito. "Well, it might take too long, how about I take you there instead?"

Uchiha Obito glances at him, Satoru raises up a hand. Wriggling his fingers in a way that is labeled "infinitely creepy" by Megumi, "definitely up to no good" by Ieiri, and "liable for criminal charges" by Nanami. They're all rude, that way. Satoru's pretty sure that many would kill to hold his hands, thank you.

He doesn't expect Uchiha Obito to take up his offer, curses don't like to touch sorcerers' hands. And he's pretty sure that Uchiha Obito knows this, best of all. You don't take an enemy's hand, you don't come close to them.

He's just awaiting a reaction, whether Uchiha Obito would admit that he can sense Yuta or stubbornly refuse to disclose any further. He's testing how generous Uchiha Obito feels tonight, how much he can dig and how much Uchiha Obito is willing to proffer.

Uchiha Obito doesn't seem to get the memo. It looks between the two option and decide that it'll do neither.

It walks towards him, its gait is noble.

It walks towards him, it tilts its head upwards slightly towards Satoru's hand. It reaches out- unbidden, Satoru almost feels like he wants to retract his hand for a moment under its gaze.

Their hands do not make contact. There's an infinity between the both of them, and Uchiha Obito is still wearing gloves. It's a thick thing, made from rough fabric that's meant to protect and cover. Satoru wonders how Uchiha Obito's hands look beneath them. Whether they'd be calloused or smooth, whether they'd be roughened with scars or entirely healed by a beast.

He looks at the scars on one side of Uchiha Obito's face and he retracts that. For while Uchiha Obito had been brought back to life from the boulders, it's clear that the traces still remain, that there was no true healing from that.

Mentally or otherwise.

That it had stuck with the man until he died and still sticks with the ghost of him now.

He wonders if Uchiha Obito's hands were warm, or whether they were cold. Filled with the flushed heat of life, or whether the man's hands were always cold- even before he became a corpse.

He wonders if the gloves are really there just to protect, or whether they're more there to hide.

He knows it is one thing to know that you have scars, it is another to have to constantly see it in battle and be reminded of the day that you died and were never the same again. At least, with the scars upon one's face, you can't see it in your daily life. You can't see it and be reminded, not like the ones on your arms or hands, the ones that you'll have to see constantly during battle.

There's an infinity and a pair of gloves between their hands.

Satoru wonders if Gojo Kakashi had let down the veil to hold Uchiha Obito's hand within his own.

He wonders if that ever happened, or if that just remained the wishful yearning of a man who loved and did nothing about it before death came and he committed the taboo for it.

Gojo Kakashi's hand must've been like his. Unblemished by scars and hurt. A hand that's been pampered and spoiled since birth. A hand not needing to be covered by a pair of gloves, for they are all powerful and there is nothing that could touch them without them wanting to be touched.

He wonders if Gojo Kakashi had wanted.

He wonders if Uchiha Obito had ever taken off his gloves to slide his hand against Gojo Kakashi. He wonders if they ever did that, or whether it was like this.

He hooks his fingers around Uchiha Obito's. He swears it's for the sake of being annoying, because that's all he aims to do. But he ends up missing the mark by a whole city when they both don't speak and something that's meant to be annoying turns into strangely intimate instead.

Warm, he thinks. Though he isn't sure whether it's his imagination or not.

He wonders if Uchiha Obito can feel the warmth emanating from Satoru's hand.

He wonders whether Gojo Kakashi's hand was warm or cool.

He wonders if they ever held hands like this. Fingers interlocked, a mere breadth away- and yet the distance between them is an infinity.

Probably not, is Satoru's guess. By the subtle way that Uchiha Obito is observing the motion of touch, hand twitching as though unfamiliar with touch.

Maybe Gojo Kakashi was that kind of prude, the kind that didn't touch others nor let himself be touched. Holding himself to impossibly higher standards, befitting a god more than man. But then again, so is Satoru. So maybe it's a difference in character.

The silence stretches on further, Satoru contemplates the weight of Uchiha Obito's hand in his. It's a deadly thing, having exorcised a dozen or more grade two and above curses just prior. Having exorcised curses even before Satoru was born. It's deadly and it's solid within his own hand, lethal fingers curled against his own.

He's pretty sure Uchiha Obito could kill a grade one with just a finger. That the man that once was could go toe to toe with a special grade with just one hand.

There's something about that.

"My eyes are up here, you know," Satoru says lightly. Lips stretching into a cheshire grin.

"I know," Uchiha Obito replies, switching from looking at their hands to looking at Satoru, and Satoru is suddenly very aware of the lack of space between them. It's obvious, Uchiha Obito had to approach to hold his hand. But it's something different to realize the breadth between them. The way that Uchiha Obito is a mere step or two away. The way he can trace his eyes over Uchiha Obito's scars and see the small stitching of the fabric of Uchiha Obito's clothes.

It's weirdly intimate again, they're weirdlyclosedespite the fact that Satoru's infinity still exists between them and Uchiha Obito isn't even that close to begin with.

Satoru's other hand is still in his pocket. He idly wonders if Uchiha Obito will accept the challenge and hold that one, too, if Satoru offers it.

He thinks that this is how Nanami feels whenever he goes "Satoru, that was a hypothetical. Don't" and Satoru goes and does it anyway.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'll blush," Satoru says, just for the pure act of saying.

"Then blush," Uchiha Obito replies, just for the pure act of replying.

"Not very gentlemanly of you, is it," Satoru rebukes. No blush comes because he's a shameless being who has forgotten how to blush and doesn't know what shame is ever since he was born. "What would your mother say?"

"I'm an orphan," Uchiha Obito remarks dryly.

It takes Satoru a moment, then two. Smile freezing into place as he wonders what kind of response to formulate tothatbefore he realizes that Uchiha Obito is joking.

Its face is impassive, but there's a small twitch to its lips that indicates a smile.

He wonders if this was how Uchiha Obito was when alive, with shockingly conversation ending jokes. An awkward man who forges into conversations dropping bombs in response to knives. Who just forges forward and when trying to joke- just end up tossing the room into silence.

He tries to imagine it, an Uchiha Obito that was alive. With a dry sense of humor and even worse timing. Who means of joking is dropping statements like this.

There's something about that, it makes Satoru laugh. He's not sure why.

But there's something about that image, something about that man that brings him forth more into this world. Beyond the battles he fought, beyond the curse he carried. That he once lived amongst them, that he had a life beyond battle- as scarce as it was. That his sense of humor often ran dry and his jokes probably, often, fell flat. It makes Uchiha Obito feel more human, it brings forth the statue and carves into it a heart.

It makes Satoru think, if only for a moment, that he would've liked to meet that man. That it's a shame that they were born generations apart.

It's a shame that Uchiha Obito ended up meeting Gojo Kakashi instead of himself, generations in the future.

Though, would it really be Uchiha Obito if he was born in this generation instead of the last? Would he really become the man that he is without enduring what he has? Would he really become the Uchiha Obito in front of Satoru now?

He doubts it.

And perhaps, that's the ugliness of it all.

"That's a pretty terrible joke," Satoru says at last.

Uchiha Obito just hums, it's a light, neutral thing.

"Well, I suppose we should go," Satoru continues, there's nothing left to say. "Or else Yuta-kun might just get lonely."

Uchiha Obito doesn't say anything; Satoru can still feel the warmth of its hand against his. He's not sure if it's his imagination or not.

Yuta prepared three cups of tea for the occasion, though he doesn't know if his ancestor can drink it. He thinks so, maybe. He's not sure. Curses can affect things in real life through touch, so he's pretty sure his ancestor can eat something, though Yuta doesn't have any experience of food and curses other than Rika and he's pretty sure that Rika would eat expired food if Yuta was the one handing it to her.

Then again, it is pretty awkward to have only two cups of tea while Uchiha Obito just stands there with none. It feels like he's excluding Uchiha Obito and it also feels very impolite.

He's sure that Gojo-sensei would make fun of him for it, though. And he can already see the, Yuta-kun thought curses could eat!in their class' group chat if Yuta turns out to be wrong.

It's fine, it's not like has any dignity left after becoming Gojo Satoru's student. It's a rite of passage, he pities Yuuji, who will be going through this exact process.

He pities Megumi even more, for having gone through this when he was a child. It must truly be a harrowing experience to have Gojo Satoru peek over your shoulder and broadcast your every failure into his totally not meant to be public chat full of other sorcerers.

No one ignores Gojo Satoru's texts for the purpose that they might be important at times, and they are.

But the man abuses this privilege, he knows that whatever he texts out will be read so he wildly misuses his power.

From humiliating pictures of his colleagues to dignity destroying stories of his students, no one has been able to escape Gojo Satoru's reign of terror. And no one will be able to, either. Every time a text goes through, you just pray that it's not you that Gojo Satoru is talking about.

Gojo Satoru is not just a person, he is an experience.

Yuta cuts out pieces of the cake unevenly. Half of it goes to Gojo-sensei, a quarter to himself and a quarter to Uchiha Obito.

Uchiha Obito, frankly, doesn't look like he enjoys sweets- or at least the man it was. He looks like a man that enjoyed more savory food, maybe even bitter.

Yuta doesn't know, not really. He doesn't even know the man's birthday or death day.

But he wants to know.

He puts a clean fork and spoon next to each of the plates. They're nice plates, the ones that are decorated and have a clean sound when tapped against.

Not really, Yuta has no idea what goes into a nice plate. All he knows is that these were the most expensive so they're probably the nicest. He hopes that they manage to live up to Uchiha Obito's standards. He knows that the man once was of some status, from his robes and all, so he was probably used to finer things. But this is the most that Yuta can offer, he even bought this with some of his mission money.

He's feeling heart palpitations as he sits there and waits. Having half a mind to take out his phone to text some of his friends.

What drove you to that? is Maki's cryptic text in response to Yuta saying that he'd chosen to spend time with Gojo-sensei today instead of coming out to eat with them.

To be fair, he would also ask any of his classmates if they willingly choose to spend time with Gojo-sensei. It's not that the man is that bad, it's just that he's, well-

He's Gojo Satoru.

Yuta can't exactly say that he's trying to have an ancestor-teacher conference, so he opts for, Teacher conference.

When did he grow a sense of responsibility?is Maki's very quick reply.

Fair.

Yuta doesn't get to reply before he hears the telltale sign of Gojo-sensei appearing in his living room. He puts his phone away before Gojo-sensei could see the true extent of Maki's trashtalk, lifting a hand up into a wave before deciding that it was a bit too informal to greet his teacher and ancestor with that. Not that his teacher would care, but maybe Uchiha Obito would.

He freezes mid-motion as he zeroes in on Gojo-sensei and the figure standing next to him.

He feels half hysterical.

Gojo Satoru is holding hands with a curse.

Gojo Satoru- his teacher- is holding hands with Yuta's ancestor.

"Long story short-" Gojo-sensei begins as though sensing Yuta's hysterics.

"Is the story platonic."

"What?"