Warning: Underage drinking

Chapter 8 Gojo Satoru

Receiving no visible reaction from Natsune, Fujisaki frowned.

"Hey, I told you my name, so it's your turn now. Who are you? Why were you fighting that big scary lady and her pet lion? What are you people?" As if suddenly struck with an idea, his eyes lit up and he struck his palm with a fist. "Could it be…you guys know magic? Are you witches and wizards or something? You come from Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" Similar to the term "Jujutsu," the meaning of this word and its associated media rose to the surface of Natsune's mind despite having never heard of it before. A niggling urge to tease the kid had him going along with it. "That's right. We're exchange students from Hogwarts, here to temporarily study at Mahoutokoro. If you don't want to be Obliviated, you better pretend you didn't see anything and walk away."

The disbelief written all over Fujisaki's face made it clear that he wasn't expecting this sort of response. A second or so later, he broke out into a laugh, one arm holding his stomach and the other maintaining a firm grasp on his shakujo to hold himself upright.

"Oh! You're a funny one, aren't you!" He laughed heartily and said in between wheezes, wiping a tear from his eye and closing the distance between them. "I like those who have a sense of humor and can take a joke. When you interact with old crocks so often, you start to miss being able to joke around without the other person taking offense at every minor thing."

The eyeroll that followed his complaint made it seem like he had a specific person in mind when he said that.

"Respecting other people's boundaries is the key to maintaining interpersonal relationships, and what's considered acceptable for a joke differs from person to person. If you want to hold onto the relationships you currently have, then figure out where they draw the line and don't cross it without their permission."

"…Never thought I'd get lectured by a kid," Fujisaki mumbled. "Well, I guess you aren't wrong. Sometimes I do go a bit overboard with my jokes, and it does nothing but worsen my relationship with my son. But that old fossil Kenny should have gotten used to my jokes by now! It's okay for him to sleep around but not okay for me to comment on it!?"

Natsune held his tongue. It wasn't his business whether Fujisaki wanted to be a teen dad or disrespect the elderly.

As they talked, Fujisaki gradually approached him until the distance between them was only the length of his shakujo. Natsune's nose twitched when the wind carried the boy's scent over to him.

Damn monkey.

He curled his lips as a wave of disgust hit his senses. His olfactory system didn't detect anything foul about this boy, but deep down inside he could feel this monkey smell that clung to the human before him, pulsating and thickening with each step Fujisaki took. The tendrils of that odor slithered towards him, trying to engulf him in that nauseating, revolting stench.

So instinctively, Natsune took a step back—

"Watch out!"

Clang!

Fujisaki's shakujo smacked a tiny Ayakashi on the head, shattering it into smithereens before Natsune could get a good look at it. The Ayakashi had crept up to his shoulder without him even noticing, perhaps due to its weak presence, so weak in aura and power that even the Ayakashi he'd absorbed didn't stir at its proximity.

"Are you okay?" Fujisaki let out a shaky breath, his eyes wide with panic. He looked Natsune up and down, trying to spot any injuries. It was almost insulting to think something so weak could injure him, and Natsune wanted to tell the boy that, to not underestimate him, that he was much stronger than this. (And he also wanted to take a step back, because the cursed energy seeping out of the boy was too much for him to bear with.)

But before he could do any of that, Fujisaki withdrew his shakujo, the six rings on the upper end grazing his neck briefly before retracting.

And it was that split-second touch against the name his God gave him that formed a tiny crack in the Kanji and sunk him into a dream, or perhaps memory, from long, long ago.

A mouthful of blood splattered onto the ground.

Yato fell to his knees, his nape stinging and his heart ramming against his ribcage. Blood dribbled down his chin and onto the concrete sidewalk he had fallen on.

What…was that?

The sting he felt could only be caused by his Shinki, the only one who shared a connection with him. Sure he also had Nora, but not once had she stung him in the millenia he'd known her for. Natsune, on the other hand, had a much higher chance considering he'd already stung Yato once barely one week after receiving his name, and he also had a supposed dead body walking around.

What could he have done—or could have happened to him—to cause this kind of sting? It was no ordinary sting. Usually when a Shinki felt guilty for committing a sin, the kind of sting that their respective God would suffer would be like being pricked with a needle. The pain would escalate with each sinful act from their Shinki and eventually the prick would feel like a stab and could worsen to the point of immobilizing the God, leading to them coughing out blood.

But the sting Yato had just felt wasn't only on the back of his neck, it felt like his heart had been stabbed through as well. Like a jolt of electricity flashing through his brain, blood spurted out of his mouth before he could react.

The thought of what could have happened to his Shinki gave rise to fear that snatched his joints, causing him to stumble and almost slip on his own blood.

Get a grip, dammit!

Yato braced himself with hands on his knees, planting his feet firmly onto the ground before leaping onto a nearby roof.

Hold on Natsune, I'm coming!

Perhaps Suguru should have seen it coming.

It had been months since he last saw Satoru. The higher-ups insisted on squeezing every last drop out of them two Special Grades, Satoru having mastered his Six-Eyes and Limitless abilities so he was naturally dispatched on solo missions that no other sorcerers were willing to take, leaving Suguru with no choice but to do the same.

Satoru couldn't even go a day without barging into Suguru's room and involving him in whatever mischief he had concocted, let alone being forced to spend two whole months without Suguru's presence by his side and having to communicate via text.

So it should come to no one's surprise that Satoru managed to find himself in trouble, once again.

Suguru should have known anything was possible when it pertained to Gojo Satoru. He should have seen it coming.

He pressed the pad of his thumb into his temple, migraines already forming due to not only his white-haired partner currently sprawled out on his bed with toes barely kept within the edge of the mattress, but also the heavy stench of alcohol pervading his room.

"Come on~ Come try it out."

Notwithstanding the annoyance drawn across Suguru's face, Satoru waved like a playful cat to invite him to break the law, as if suffusing his room with this stench wasn't incriminating enough.

"Satoru, where did you get— you know what, I don't even want to know." Suguru crossed the room in two strides and jerked the half-empty bottle out of Satoru's grasp. "Is this all? Or are you hiding more?"

Satoru reached forward, and in the split second that took Suguru to blink, the bottle was back in his hand.

Damn his Limitless technique.

"Give me a break. It's been two months, two whole months. I spend more time with Curses these days than with you." Satoru dropped his gaze onto the bottle, his long lashes fluttering gently over his watery eyes, as if trying to obscure the raw emotions swimming within. His voice softened into a whisper. "I miss you."

All it took was three words for Suguru to forgive him. Satoru, his Satoru who always wore his heart on his sleeves, who never saw the need to hide anything from Suguru, who saw him as the basis of his ideals, as if Suguru could remain unwavering in his beliefs after what they'd gone through. How could he stay mad at Satoru when he was met with these shimmering eyes, eyes that made him feel like he was this godlike figure who could do no wrong, who had no weakness and could never falter no matter the adversity, be it from outside or within?

(Satoru had no idea that it was actually the complete opposite.)

"Is that why you snuck into my room at half past midnight to make me an unwilling accomplice in your thieving and underage drinking?"

Suguru's words may sound harsh, but his tone was undeniably a tone of forgiveness and acceptance.

What other choice did he have?

This was his Satoru. He signed up for this when he became the Strongest alongside him.

(Strongest? Don't make me laugh.)

Suguru ignored his own voice scoffing at him in the back of his mind and went to sit beside Satoru on the bed. The alcohol reeked, but it came nowhere close to the smell and taste of Curses.

Why the hell not.

He needed a release, too.

Satoru broke into a wide grin when Suguru grabbed the bottle out of his hand and downed nearly the rest of the alcohol in one go, immediately coughing when the liquid burned his throat as physiological reactions had his eyes tearing up.

"Pff."

"Shut it," Suguru gritted out, his voice raspy and lacking the austerity he was going for.

Some alcohol spilled from his lips during his cough, poising dangerously on the edge before dripping down his chin. He darted out his tongue to lick it back up, only to find Satoru's eyes strangely fixated on his mouth.

"What?"

Satoru's gaze stayed on his lips a little too long before he finally said, "That was kinda hot."

"…What?"

"The way you did that." He licked his own lips to demonstrate, his voice deepening to almost a growl. "Like you're trying to seduce me."

Suguru responded by lifting a hand to check his temperature.

"You're drunk, Satoru. You don't know what you're talking about."

And perhaps he was a little drunk, too, because he had no idea how he was able to remain calm in this situation.

Maybe getting more drunk would solve the problem.

Suguru's hazy mind supplied, so he took another swig of the alcohol. This time, he drank much slower to avoid spilling anymore.

But even that had somehow aroused Satoru, for he leaned in with his gaze affixed to Suguru's glistening lips until no more than a few centimeters of space existed between them. Their breath mingled together, the scent of Satoru's strawberry lip balm making the reek of alcohol slightly less unpleasant.

Suguru's eyes flickered downward.

If he were to lean forward juuuuust a little—

Satoru closed in the gap and pressed their lips together, doing the very thing Suguru's intrusive thoughts had fantasized about.

And for what felt like hours, all Suguru could feel was this marshmallow-like texture with a softness that put cotton candy to shame, and all he could see was Satoru's blue eyes, reeling him in with its expanse of stars that twinkled brighter than even the Sun. They flooded him with a sense of tranquility that deprived his lungs of oxygen, all the worries and bothersome thoughts vanishing from his mind as tension left his body as well.

A teasing little smirk played on Satoru's lips when he fluttered his eyes closed and took advantage of Suguru's stupefied state to steal a lick of these alcohol-stained lips.

The hot wet tongue coming into contact with his cold dry lips startled Suguru into breaking out a whole body shiver. Satoru sniggered against his lips, opening his eyes and overstaying his welcome for a few seconds more, observing Suguru's flushed face and no doubt etching this sight into his mind, before finally withdrawing.

Suguru's lips were on fire. Or it could just be the alcohol. His face was burning up, too. And his throat. Actually, scratch that. His whole body was set alight.

The alcohol was too strong.

And that kiss, that soft, sweet kiss was so addicting that Suguru almost chased after those lips, but that teasing look in Satoru's eyes held him back by sinking his heart to the pit of his stomach.

Oh—

Of course.

How could he forget?

This was Satoru he was kissing.

The guy who never took anything seriously, who sniggered at the couples daring to make out in public, who thought kissing was "ew" and he'd rather hold hands with a cursed spirit than date and pamper a girl (which made total sense since Satoru was always the pampered and spoiled one, being the next clanhead and having overpowered abilities and all that.)

Satoru was the kind of guy who loved to tease people.

Why else would he suddenly kiss his best friend if not to mess with him and laugh at his reactions?

Satoru. God dammit Satoru.

Anything else, Suguru could forgive.

Anything, but stealing his first kiss.

With a composure that contradicted the current state of his mind, Suguru slammed his fist into Satoru's cheek and immediately retracted it when his fist met skin and sent Satoru flying into the wall three meters away.

"W-Why… is your Infinity not on?"

Satoru spat out some blood and grinned at him, revealing his blood-stained teeth. His eyes held none of the anger that should have been there for getting punched out of the blue.

"Because it's you. There's no need for my Infinity when I'm with you."

The amount of trust in that statement was too much for Suguru to bear. His conscience couldn't take it, not when he was no longer the person Satoru saw him as (or had he ever been that person?), his ideals far too shaken to deserve this amount of trust.

He didn't deserve it; he didn't need it. He didn't want to be Satoru's weakness.

Suguru was too drunk to remember what happened afterward. All he knew was that Satoru was already gone by the time he woke up the next morning with a migraine so bad it felt like all the Curses he had absorbed were knocking on his head to wake him up.

Satoru, that idiot, didn't seem fazed at all by what happened the previous day. He waved at Suguru all happily like a loyal dog wagging his tail, as if the mere sight of Suguru was enough to lift his spirit.

The thought irked Suguru, so he ignored the white-haired idiot and continued his way to the cafeteria.

Satoru ended up sitting with Shoko a few seats away, far enough to make it seem like he was trying to be conspicuous, but not far enough for their conversation to be private.

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing! I swear!" Satoru placed his right hand over his heart, mildly affronted. "My head hurts like hell, though. Maybe he's avoiding me because he feels guilty for hitting my head too many times when I was drunk as revenge for me adding orange juice to his coffee two months ago?"

Suguru's spoonful of food halted before his lips, his hand shaking slightly when he realized Satoru didn't remember. That idiot stole his first kiss and had the nerves to not remember it!

On the other hand, maybe this was for the better.

If Satoru was just messing with him, then it was a good thing that he forgot so Suguru could be saved from the inevitable teasing and mocking and consequential embarrassment.

But if on the off chance that Satoru was actually serious, or at least harbored a small amount of feelings for Suguru, then forgetting about the kiss was the wisest thing he'd ever done.

The lifespan of sorcerers was far too short to allow the inclusion of love. Love, to everyone else, was a drive that pushed them forward, that picked them up when they fell, and guided them past their limits when their mind already gave up. It was the thing everyone was striving for, that they couldn't live without.

But for sorcerers, love was more like a curse. It made them vulnerable, made them weak, and most importantly, it made them value someone else's life over their own in a career where their own life mattered more than anything else.

Suguru's presence already made Satoru weak.

He didn't want to drag Satoru down even further.

Satoru was the Strongest; Suguru was not. Satoru was born to be on the top, while Suguru was born to remain in his shadows. No matter what he did, he couldn't climb up there and bathe in the light alongside Satoru. That spot beside Satoru may have temporarily belonged to him, but, ultimately, it belonged to no one.

Because that was the only way to protect Satoru, to ensure his status as the Strongest remained unchanged.

Natsune woke up gasping and panting. Wind blew through his hair and wiped the sweat off of his face, but it couldn't calm the turmoil currently rampaging within him.

"S…Sa…Satoru?"

The words sounded foreign, but they felt so natural to say, as if he had said them millions of times before.

Satoru. Gojo Satoru. The Strongest Sorcerer.

They were friends, once best friends.

And maybe they could have been so much more.

But if that was Gojo Satoru, then…

"Who am I?"

Natsune curled into himself and grasped his hair, his breathing becoming even more erratic.

He could still taste the burning alcohol on his tongue, recall the sensation of Satoru's soft lips pressed against his own and the scent of his strawberry lip balm. He remembered the way Satoru's eyes glinted with mischief when he drew back, and those same beautiful eyes widened in shock when his punch connected.

He could remember everything about Gojo Satoru.

So why…

Why couldn't he remember his own damn name!?

Struggling to remember past memories was supposed to induce migraines for an amnesiac person, but the only kind of pain Natsune could feel was the intense ache in his heart as if someone was wringing it like it was putty. Curling into himself didn't help, gritting his teeth hard enough to draw blood didn't help, but bringing back the image of Satoru's eyes and recalling the tranquility it evoked from him assuaged his pain a little.

Natsune blinked rapidly to clear the tears obstructing his vision. The wind had blown some of it away, leaving dried tear tracks on the corner of his eyes. He was still atop the train, his hair a mess from the battle that had preceded this event. The Sun had begun to emerge from behind the clouds, casting its warm rays onto him and flushing his face to the point of making him feel feverish.

He stood up shakily. His legs didn't quite feel like his after experiencing the memory through his old body. It didn't feel like he had changed much, but his body in the memory felt younger, shorter, and more grounded in reality.

Well, that last part was quite obvious. He was still alive back then so of course his physical body would feel more real compared to his current body, which existed in spirit only.

Natsune rubbed his eyes, the softness of his skin and the remnant tears that clung to his eyelashes felt just as real, if not more so, than the body he had experienced via memories.

When he looked up to observe his surroundings, the mysterious boy named Fujisaki was already gone. He must have made himself scarce while Natsune was still lost in memory. The boy didn't feel like a God, if the monkey smell that clung to him was any indication. He was a human, a normal human being who shouldn't have the ability to do…whatever he did to Natsune.

But there was no one else to blame but him. The memory only emerged when his shakujo grazed Natsune's neck.

Natsune brushed his fingers against the Kanji tattoo on his neck. It was the name Yato gave him that symbolized his rebirth and bestowment of a second chance at life.

He'd always thought it was just a tattoo to show his name, nothing more, nothing less. But perhaps it had more meaning than he gave it credit for.

Perhaps he should have taken better care of it.

When the train drew near Jujutsu high school, Natsune leapt off of the speeding vehicle and picked up a lightweight, black shemagh scarf from a dingy little thrift store to not only conceal his neck area but also protect him from sunburn. He couldn't let Yato find out about his ongoing escapade, so he paid for it using the rest of the money he stole from Yato on that rainy night.

The barriers protecting Jujutsu high school washed over him as he walked right through it. It failed to detect his presence for the second time that day as he wandered freely within the compound, steering clear of the track where the students were training to avoid further complications with the tuna boy who apparently could see him.

There were some buildings that he recognized from his memory. The dormitory, the classrooms, the cafeteria… Seeing them again gave him the illusion that he was back in the past and he'd see Satoru any second now, but the minor details—from the cracks in the walls to the flowers that took the spot of weeds—prevented him from falling too deep into this illusion.

Their last encounter had him ignoring Satoru, but now Natsune would do anything to meet him again.

This time, he would greet him back.

The door was right behind him. Nothing was tying him down to the chair. Nothing could tie him down.

But Satoru still felt trapped.

The dead silence within the Execution Room made each inaudible intake of breath feel like bangings in his eardrums. His lungs suffered under the heavy weight of the oxygen, the only thing he allowed to bypass his Infinity and enter his body. His Infinity hadn't been turned off ever since that day so many years ago. It took no effort to maintain it, seeing as he was so used to it after mastering the technique.

But now, it felt so exhausting to maintain. He wanted to close his eyes, shut off all his abilities, and sleep it all away, escaping from his never-ending problems.

It was at times like this that he hoped he could reverse time and return things to the way they were before. He wasn't the Strongest; they were the Strongest. He didn't have to carry the burden alone; Suguru was there to share the responsibilities with him. He could do anything with Suguru by his side. He thought he had gotten over Suguru; he thought ten years of separation, plus one additional year of eternal solitude, had gotten him used to Suguru's absence, but he was wrong.

He was always wrong.

He overestimated his abilities, he let his ego swell to the point of warping his perception of himself, and the result of that was death. The death of Rika, the death of Suguru, and he was this close, this fucking close, to losing Suguru again.

It was always someone else who had to pay the price for his arrogance.

When would he ever learn? He was not omnipotent; he was no God. Gojo Satoru was just a human being like everyone else in this world. He was capable of emotions, capable of mistakes, and these intangible feelings could still get to him past his Infinity.

He was not as strong as everyone thought he was.

He should have been more careful; he shouldn't have barged into Hiyori's house without conducting a proper, thorough investigation on her. He should know better that a background search wasn't enough to provide an accurate representation of the person.

Ten years flew past, yet he was still the careless arrogant brat he was from back then.

Pushing himself off of the chair felt like a chore, opening the door and making his way to the surface taxed on all his strength, and what little energy he had left vanished the instant his senses tingle at the familiar presence he had sensed the previous night.

The chill that crept up his spine, goosebumps that erupted on his skin, and that sense of familiarity could no doubt only be caused by one person.

The one and only—

"S—" Satoru caught himself before he could say Suguru's name.

"There's only one way to trigger it with absolute certainty. And that's by telling them their real name."

He was this fucking close to ruining it again.

Satoru clenched his jaw and clamped down the instinct to breathe out that name.

"Stop right there." He held up a hand. To his surprise, Suguru's presence actually halted. "Who are you? I may not be able to see you but my senses are telling me you're here. So tell me, what do you want? If you don't have a valid reason for being here, I will have to ask you to leave the premises."

Perhaps it was because he was actively focusing on the presence this time, all it took was a split-second blink for Suguru to appear right before him, dressed in a plain white t-shirt, a black shemagh scarf, and long black pants.

The sight of him with his arms intact and without the darkness in the depth of his eyes made Satoru choke up and his eyes starting to burn. Under the guise of taking off his blindfold, he rubbed away the tears threatening to emerge before pulling the black band down and lifting his gaze to meet Suguru's.

Suguru seemed a little shaken to suddenly lose his invisibility. He took a step back, lowered his gaze slightly to look at something on Satoru's chin, and lifted it back up to meet his eyes readily.

"You can see me."

His voice… It was Suguru's voice…

"Great observation. Now answer my question." Satoru's voice sounded a little raspy in an effort to force down the emotions swelling within him. He didn't quite achieve the intended tone he was going for, but it'd do for now.

"Do I know you?"

Yes, you do. You were—are—my best friend, my one and only.

"No," Satoru said instead.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"You are. I can tell. Because I've known you for—" He cut himself off as his eyes glazed over.

And at the same time, Satoru's heart began racing.

He can't know. If he did, then he would…

"I know you." Suguru settled on this. "I don't know how long I've known you for, or how important you are to me, but you're clearly important enough for our kiss to be the only thing I can remember."

Ki–

If Suguru noticed Satoru's flinching, he didn't mention it.

He remembers our kiss!?

I thought he hated that, so I pretended it never happened!

Why did THAT have to be the only thing he remembers!?

"Wh…" Satoru coughed to regain his composure. "What kiss? Don't tell me you've been fantasizing about me. Have you got a crush on me or something?"

"You're not fooling anyone." Suguru's voice rose as he strode forward and leaned into Satoru's comfort zone. It was probably an act to put pressure onto him, but all it put was a well-concealed blush onto Satoru's face. "I don't know what you're trying to achieve with your bold-faced lies, but you and I both know that memories can't be faked. I remember your touch, your scent, the taste of your lips against mine." Satoru flinched when one of Suguru's hands crept up to caress his lips. "Still using strawberry lip balms, are we? You never change, Satoru."

Suguru's fingers, warm and tender against his lips, brought him back to that forsaken night he tried so hard to forget. The night, quiet and still; the world, inconsequential; and their responsibilities, trivial and forgotten. Just the two of them, barely an inch apart, seeing themselves through each other's eyes and exploring the possibility of being more than friends. Nothing else mattered at the time, only Suguru and his lips, his stuttering breath, and the little quivers in his fingers when Satoru decided to push his luck and take more than he bargained for.

It was so easy to forget who he was, who they were, when he was with Suguru. Even after death, Suguru still managed to find his way back into Satoru's life and monopolize his mind with intrusive thoughts that were too risky to entertain.

A single word. Satoru. In that unique way only Suguru would say it as. No one had ever spoken his name like that, like it was not a name but a confession of love every time the word left Suguru's mouth, like the word itself had its original definition robbed and was given a new meaning. It was a word Satoru couldn't say no to, and Suguru knew that. The Suguru with all his memories intact should know that, seeing as he often used it to get what he wanted from Satoru.

But… This was the one thing Satoru couldn't give him. His name, his memories, the endless possibilities the two of them had and maybe still could have… Giving him them back would require Suguru to sacrifice his life in return.

And Satoru would sooner end his own life than rob Suguru of his once again.

Going against his instincts, Satoru shoved Suguru away (he felt so tangible, so warm, so alive) and backed up to give himself more space to breathe. "Look, I've heard from Yato that you guys are, whatchamacallit, Shinki? Dead human spirits, right? Even if you know me, or 'knew' me, you're still dead, ain'tcha? So go do whatever dead people do. Don't bother me. I have no interest in mingling with the dead."

Tearing his eyes away from the pained expression on Suguru's face took more effort than he expected. Every cell in his body was screaming for him to go back to Suguru, to hug him or kiss him or whatever other affectionate things his inner desire wanted him to do, but the only outcome of catering to his own selfish whims would be reminding Suguru more of their shared past and leading him further down the path of becoming a cursed spirit.

And he'd be damned if he let Suguru die under his hands once again.

So he allowed himself one last look at Suguru's face, turned his back on him, and walked away.

Suguru: "You and I both know that memories can't be faked."

Me: "Um… Actually…"

Suguru: "Shut up. No one asked you."

Me: "(squeak) Y-Yes sir."