End of the Year 2005
It was the 31st of December. The weather hovered between not very cold and not warm either, setting the tone for another dreary, insipid day. To Gojo, the whole year appeared dull and lackluster in retrospect. School and missions offered little challenge, and it seemed to him that the monotony of his existence had become unbearable in the last half hour.
"I'm booooored," Gojo declared, his form carelessly draped over the backrest of his chair in a room messily cluttered with personal items.
"Shut up, I'm reading," Geto grumbled, his head burrowed in a second-hand book. Without looking up, he threw an eraser in Gojo's direction.
The eraser hit Gojo's Infinity. He plucked it out of the air and threw it into the bin the furthest away from him—score! Despite theatrically raising his arms in jubilation, Geto chose to remain oblivious to the impressive throw.
His suffering intensified and with little else to do, Gojo turned his attention to the prospect of New Year's celebrations. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing. Shut up, I said," Geto replied.
"Can I come to your family's place to celebrate New Year's?"
Geto burst out laughing, but sobered up quickly when he realized Gojo was serious. He put on a mild expression, like you did when you talked to a child that was a little slow on the uptake. "I'm not going home. Nobody there wants to see me."
"Harsh," Gojo sat up straight, pulling a sympathetic face. "But it's true, you're no fun."
"I want to read this book, dammit!" Geto grumbled. "If you could just hold your fucking mouth for once!"
"Nobody reads about the Heian period without having to, you're doing it to vex me!"
"Sometimes you're such a spoiled brat," Geto closed the book with a loud snap. "Aren't you the prodigy son of one of the Big Three? I bet you guys have a lavish feast every year! Just go home already!"
Gojo thought back to his family's New Year's celebrations. Come the 13th of December, the air at the ancestral estate got infested by the scent of purifying incense (he hated it, it made him sneeze) and every entrance got decked with kadomatsu and shimekazari. On the 31st, the family feast was a solemn occurrence during which nobody spoke, but everybody was expected to look rapturous while slurping expensive beverages. On the table in ancient lacquered boxes: Kuromame, sweet black soybeans symbolizing health and hard work, mashed sweet chestnuts and herring roe. An assortment of sashimi featuring the crème de la crème of seafood—toro, uni, and ikura—sourced from the depths of the ocean by underpaid female divers. Wagyu beef on platters that reached from one side of the table to the other, a sprawling landscape of marbled perfection. Foie gras chawanmushi, a metamorphosis of tradition into decadence because his grandmother couldn't live without it. And of course, edible gold and silver leaf garnishes elevated each dish to an art form.
He snorted disdainfully. Lavish opulence, yes. But that was all. Nothing more than superficial displays of wealth, a façade for the underlying emptiness and lack of genuine connection.
"I'm not going home," he shook himself. "I hate it there."
"Make it make sense," Geto groaned and opened his book again. Gojo eyed it with a growing urge to do something drastic. He leaned forward, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
"Hey, Suguru," Gojo said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "what if we create our own New Year's celebration right here, right now? No boring Heian period books, no stuffy family gatherings. Just us and some good times."
Geto looked at Gojo with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "You appear even more deranged than usual, man."
"Deranged or a genius, people disagree," Gojo winked, eager to conjure up plans for a makeshift celebration. "Let's make the last day of the year memorable, even if it's just for us."
"Like what?"
"Like…" Gojo racked his brain. What did normal people do for fun on New Year's Eve? "How about a movie marathon? We can watch all the classics, the ones we never get tired of. Get some snacks, maybe raid the kitchen for anything edible. It's simple, it's chill, and it beats the heck out of Heian period books."
Geto raised an eyebrow. "A movie marathon? Really? You know you do that with a potential girlfriend, right?"
"Huh? Now you made it weird," Gojo pouted.
"Why, are you afraid of me?" Geto wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Everyone thinks we're gay anyway, so what's the big deal? Come here, brother, and kiss me!"
"I'd rather have a girlfriend," Gojo mumbled.
"Then do us all a favor and ask her out," Geto picked up his book again. "Stop glaring already and go outside for a walk or something. I don't want to watch movies with you, you have a weird taste. Anyway, we don't match and I don't want to be your girlfriend. Get lost."
Before Geto could react, Gojo launched himself at him, nimble fingers swiftly snatching the book from his grasp.
"Give that back," Geto's face darkened, a scowl etched on his features.
"No." Gojo threw a disdainful glance at the cover. The Secrets of Heian Era Sorcerers Unraveled. What crap! At the blink of an eye, he teleported and dropped it into the void between here and there.
"What. The. Fuck," stunned, Geto looked at Gojo's empty hand. "Give it back!"
Gojo shrugged, quite pleased with himself because he had not known he could do that. "I can't. It's in the infinite void now. Maybe it'll find some Heian ghosts to entertain."
"Are you serious?" Geto's disbelief was evident. He stood up, tensed and shifted his feet. "You motherfucker."
Gleefully, Gojo shifted into a protective stance too. Alas, a knock at the door interrupted the sure fun they were about to have. It was Shoko who poked her head in, the smudges underneath her eyes even more pronounced than usual.
"Have any of you guys… good grief, what a pig stall!" She exclaimed. Gojo followed her gaze, wondering what she was referring to.
Geto relaxed his posture and smiled angelically. "Are you looking for something, Shoko-chan?"
"He wants to be found," Gojo murmured darkly, finding his friend's sudden shift in mood rather ridiculous. "Please deliver us."
"Yes, my lighter," Shoko looked around once more, pulling a thoroughly disgusted face.
"You can have one of mine," Geto offered, still smiling.
"But I want the one I lost," she scowled at him. "It means something to me."
"Why? Did someone give it to you?"
"Yes, someone gave it to me. Wait, did you take it?!"
"Perhaps I did? Who is that guy anyway?"
Yaddayaddayadda. The conversation continued with the familiar dance of strained discomfort between Shoko and Geto. As the awkwardness lingered, Gojo observed their exchange with growing discontent. He was torn, unsure whether he'd prefer them to finally acknowledge their mutual attraction or if he indeed favored the uncomfortable egg-dance. Definitely, he thought, the second option was preferable because the first would potentially result in loneliness. And he was done being lonely, begod.
"Hey, Shoko! What are you doing for New Year's Eve?" Gojo interjected, attempting to shift the focus away from the awkward exchange between the two.
"I'm going to a party. With Utahime. Why?" She regarded him suspiciously.
"Oh, can we come?" A party! With Utahime! It was exactly what he needed.
"No, you can't, you're not invited."
"Who else isn't invited?"
"How should I know? Don't be weird. It's at her boyfriend's."
Oh, at her boyfriend's, was it. Who was that again? Some banker-wanker, if memory served correctly. The last loser, a guy by the name of Haruhisa, had left her not too long ago for a long-lost childhood sweetheart or something. What an idiot.
"Where does she even meet these people?" He grumbled, feeling miffed.
"Don't you dare," Shoko said in parting, lifting her finger as a warning.
Oh, but how he dared. He dared and then some. They just needed to find out where the banker-wanker lived and the rest would be history.
###
Gojo and Geto exchanged sly glances outside the swanky apartment building where Utahime's banker hosted the New Year's Eve party. They were dressed to the nines in sleek designer suits that accentuated their impeccable physiques, complete with well-fitted ties and shining shoes. After a quick nod of agreement, Gojo pressed the doorbell.
"Yes, come on up!" A cheerful, slightly slurred voice echoed through the intercom as the door opener buzzed.
Following a brief ride in the elevator, Gojo and Geto confidently entered the luxurious foyer. The party was in full swing, resonating with the clinking of glasses, laughter, and the soft hum of animated conversation.
"Hi!" A very average looking guy whose hair would inevitably thin in a few years from now appeared, grinning broadly. "And who are you?"
"We are the male strippers you ordered!" Gojo beamed. Banker-wanker was not very attractive. It felt like a victory.
"I did?" Their host seemed too inebriated to find anything wrong with that statement. "Excellent! Come through here. Do you want anything to drink?"
Yes, they accepted some bubbly sweet beverage in long-stemmed glasses that went straight to Gojo's head.
"Anything else you need?" The banker smiled a little cross-eyed.
"Yes, please put in this CD once you want us to start. And turn the volume up!"
As soon as Akina Nakamori's "Mon Amour" started blasting through the expensive Luxman sound system, the guests fell into an expectant hush. Somebody gasped loudly when Gojo and Geto jumped into the middle of the living room to begin an impromptu performance that could only be described as the fusion of dance and chaos. The room was filled with laughter and cheers as the duo teased the spectators by gradually removing their ties and jackets, swinging them like lassos over their heads.
"More, more!" A random woman in a red dress screeched.
With deliberate, exaggerated movements, Gojo began to unbutton his shirt, revealing glimpses of his chiseled abs for the onlookers. The room buzzed with an electric mix of anticipation as each button gave way to the promise of more. Sensing the moment, he lifted his sunglasses, unleashing the full impact of his eyes on the mesmerized crowd. A momentary hush fell over the room. Then, as if on cue, the silence shattered into a chorus of excited screams from some of the ladies.
With an elegant and smooth movement, Gojo had just removed his belt when Utahime's scowling face suddenly appeared in his field of vision. Uh-oh. She stood on tiptoes to say something to her boyfriend, but he was totally caught up in the contagious energy of the moment and cheered along loudly with the other guests.
"Should we leave?" Geto grabbed Gojo's waist in a display of fake intimacy that sent the room into a frenzy.
"No way," Gojo winked at the crowd and then bent forward to plant a kiss on Geto's lips.
"You've got to be kidding me!" That was Shoko, who sounded like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or to scream. Oh, this was fun.
"Enough!" Utahime's scream pierced into sudden silence. Was the song already over? "These two are underage!"
With the room expressing their disappointment and protest with "awwwws", "no way, look at them" and "who cares when they're that hot", Utahime grabbed Gojo's and Geto's arms roughly and pulled them away with her, towards what was the bedroom. She shoved the two of them inside and slammed the door shut.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Utahime hissed, her voice dripping with anger. Crossed arms and a scowl that could freeze hell over confronted the duo. Gojo felt a tingling sensation all over; he just loved it when her attention was on him!
Geto, less affected than Gojo, grinned cheekily at Utahime. "We came to add a little spice to your party, Utahime-chan. You're welcome!"
Utahime's eyes narrowed, and she snapped back, "Someone forgot to parent you properly when you were little. Look at yourselves! You act like spoiled brats and get away with it because everybody just sees your angelic faces. You clearly have no respect for other people's efforts and plans. This isn't a playground for your childish antics!"
Geto rolled his eyes. "Come on, Utahime. Lighten up. It's New Year's Eve! Don't be such a sourpuss!"
"You think I have an angelic face?" Gojo beamed, but Utahime's icy glare only intensified.
Behind her, the door opened and the banker stumbled in, a fat wallet in his hand.
"What?" Utahime blanched as she realized what was about to happen, "No, you don't need to pay them! They're just two idiots from my school!"
"Really?" The banker looked very impressed. "Wow. That's real talent."
Squinting, he unearthed four ¥10,000 bills. Utahime seethed with frustration, but banker was adamant. With one final, withering look, she turned on her heel and stormed away.
"You were great, guys," the banker who was clearly oblivious to her crisis handed two bills to each of them. "If you leave me your card, I'll recommend you to my friends."
"Good to know we have options if it doesn't work out with Jujutsu Sorcery," Geto guffawed when they exited the building, waving the bills into the air. "Where do we wanna go next?"
"Don't care," Gojo hiccupped happily.
The night was still young, and the possibilities seemed endless.