7 February 2006

The fluffy clouds drifting slowly across the azure sky on this February day were a welcome change from the dismal weather of the past weeks. Gojo sprawled casually on the stairs, his face tilted upward to soak in some of the sun's rays that graced the schoolyard on its way to the zenith. Nearby, Geto leaned against a stone pillar, discreetly holding a lit cigarette behind his back. The mood was relaxed and carefree. They were on a break that frankly couldn't last long enough. Trainings were gruesome. Missions endless.

"You can't deny the epicness," Gojo enthusiastically gestured with his soda-filled cup. "MetalGreymon is pure gold, my friend. That upgrade from Agumon? It's a masterpiece. Metal Claw and Giga Blaster? That's power and precision in perfect harmony."

Geto released a stream of smoke before responding, his tone contemplative. "Nah, Satoru. SkullGreymon is far more intriguing. The whole concept of dark evolution, the unpredictability – just so complex, man."

Gojo raised an incredulous eyebrow. "SkullGreymon? The Dark Digivolution with the Black Gear? It's a risky move, a hit or miss. MetalGreymon never fails – it's all about sheer power and precision. Bang, bang, bang, every time."

Geto nodded, casually snipping ash off his cigarette, "Sure, SkullGreymon isn't the most stable choice, but that's precisely why it's intriguing. The struggle between light and darkness, the internal conflicts – it mirrors the human experience."

Gojo made a theatrical gagging sound, "Please, spare me."

Leaning forward, Geto continued: "SkullGreymon's evolution is triggered by the intense stress and despair felt by its human partner. It's a testament to the profound bond between DigiDestined and Digimon."

Gojo haughtily waved off the idea. "Yeah, yeah. SkullGreymon's dark evolution drama – too angsty for my taste. Give me the straightforward power of MetalGreymon any day."

Geto smirked at him. "You're missing the point, Satoru. SkullGreymon's unpredictability adds a layer of depth to the narrative. It's not just about raw power; it's about embracing the shadows within. SkullGreymon embodies complexity, the internal battles we all endure."

Snickering, Gojo swirled the remnants of his soda in its cup. "Deep, man. Internal battles? That's such a load of crap."

Geto leaned back against the pillar, exhaling another plume of smoke, suddenly looking much too serious. "Sometimes, Satoru, the monsters we face are reflections of our own struggles. And sometimes, the shadows hold the answers we seek. But of course, you wouldn't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gojo bristled.

Geto narrowed his eyes. "It means, Satoru, that sometimes, the shadows we ignore become the very things that shape us. But you wouldn't understand because there are no shadows in your blessed life."

"Huh?" Something about his friend's did not agree with Gojo. "My life is… my life isn't… It's not an easy life!"

Despite his outrage, he couldn't quite deliver this statement with the intended vehemence. Surely, his life was the opposite of easy; throughout its entirety, people had nagged him to do things he didn't want to do. Eventually though, he became so accustomed to fulfilling others' wishes that it became as routine as breathing. And breathing definitely wasn't hard, one didn't even think about it. Ergo, could a life you just lived without major suffering really be called hard? What if… what if Geto was right?

Not paying Gojo's sudden pensiveness any attention, Geto doubled down. "Your MetalGreymon, your obsession with being the strongest – It's just a shield, your way of avoiding anything that could challenge your shallow personality."

"I'm not shallow!" Gojo gasped. "Our lives are only about battles, and it's the strongest who can rely on his power who wins. There's nothing more to it. The end!"

"Fuck off," Geto snarled. "There's not a single sensible discussion to be had with you. Whenever I try to start an adult conversation, you're ruining it with your childish behavior!"

"Oh yeah?" Gojo got up to glare down at Geto (thanks to standing on the steps of the stairs). "Babbling nonsense is an adult conversation now? You are the farthest from being an adult I have ever seen!"

"And you possess no self-reflection skills, less than none!"

In the back of his mind, a voice attempted to remind Gojo that they were not supposed to fight at school unless it was supervised by a teacher, but that voice was drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. Now that he thought about it, there had been a weird tension between them for weeks. Gojo moved into a fighter's stance, his movements mirrored by Geto. Better get rid of it.

"We're really going to do this?" Geto snarled, baring his impressive teeth.

"I bet you we will!" Gojo retorted, gesturing to Geto to bring it on.

It would not have been pretty - Gojo had yet to figure out how to counter some of Geto's particularly nasty curses that shattered his concentration and hence his Infinity - but that day, Gojo and Geto did not fight each other. Because a head, then a figure in traditional clothes appeared at the other end of the courtyard where the stairs led down into the valley.

Gojo's attention immediately shifted to the true enemy.

"Who is that?" Geto followed Gojo's gaze with narrowed eyes.

"A Zen'in you'll wish you'd never have met," Gojo replied, letting his arms fall to his side.

The tall teenager walked towards them with measured, arrogant strides. Small puffs of dust rose at his feet, as if the very ground acknowledged his presence.

Geto watched the approaching figure, his gaze narrowing. "He walks like he's the king of the world."

Gojo pulled a face. "That's Naoya Zen'in. The epitome of everything I despise about his clan."

As Naoya closed the distance, his sharp eyes focused on Gojo and Geto. There was a calculated arrogance in his expression, as if he had already decided their worth. The sunlight caught the edges of his blue kimono, emphasizing the meticulous care put into his appearance.

Naoya stopped a few paces away, his gaze sweeping over them dismissively. "Satoru Gojo, the prodigy."

"What do you want?" Gojo frowned down at Naobito's youngest son. He had pierced his ears since they had last met, which admittedly looked kind of daring. Gojo's aunts would blow a fuse if he got any piercings. Maybe he should immediately get some today after school?

Naoya's lip curled into a dismissive smile. "We're just doing a routine check on the school. My father likes to know how his finances are spent."

"Chuumon," Geto remarked with an air of disdain, his words carrying the weight of his low opinion.

Gojo chuckled appreciatively, all of Geto's earlier insolence forgiven. Chuumon was a small, rodent-like Digimon with a plump body, large ears, and an ugly tail. Lacking the imposing or fearsome features that many other Digimon possessed, its overall unremarkable and seemingly weak demeanor made it one of the most unpopular Digimon's ever to exist.

"And who are you again?" Naoya sneered at Geto, looking maximally unimpressed. His pathetic lack of knowledge about Digimon was evident.

Geto smirked back. "Name's Geto Suguru."

"Ah," Naoya's face changed into a smug expression. "You're Gojo's pet."

Geto's smirk grew wider. "I'm not Gojo's pet. I'm his partner in crime when it comes to Digimon discussions. We have a very refined taste, unlike some."

Naoya's sneer intensified. "So the rumors are true." He looked from one of them to the other with a calculating gaze.

"What rumors?" Gojo was still frowning.

"To think your crappy clan finally has a chance at true greatness again but they get an incompetent, perverted imbecile like you?" Naoya's tone was full of disdain.

The thing was, the Gojo and the Zen'in clans had been on bad terms for centuries. This age-old enmity dripped with the venom of political intrigues, assassinations, and cursed technique sabotage, as each clan sought to annihilate the other's prominence in the arcane world they governed. Kidnappings of heirs and key figures were executed with precision, curses were employed as weapons, and betrayals ran rampant, staining the lineage of both families. Property and land disputes erupted like silent wars, while economic strategies unfolded as subtle battles beneath the surface.

Gojo didn't give a rat's ass about clan history. Becoming his clan's head from an early age had not been his choice.

And yet, he reacted with extreme aversion to the presence of someone like Naoya, because he embodied everything Gojo personally despised about the ruling class of the Jujutsu World. Just last week, Naoya had apparently crippled a cousin several years his junior during a training fight. The Zen'in's only family value was a constant internal competition to outdo each other. And there was only one rule: The rule of the strongest.

This was where Geto was wrong. Gojo didn't just want to be the Strongest because he was shallow. He wanted to be the Strongest so he could keep people like Naoya Zen'in in check.

"Suguru, you might want to stop me," Gojo remarked with a voice that barely masked his growing itch to beat Naoya up until he begged for his life to be spared.

"Nah," Geto laughed, "go ahead. I'll tell Yaga Sensei that he started it."

"You wish to fight me?" Naoya's eyes took on a sharp, hungry look, his Kansai dialect suddenly much more pronounced.

Gojo's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Don't be so eager to lose."

Naoya's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Lose? Me? Don't underestimate me, Gojo Satoru. I will happily show you the power that will crush you and that inferior Clan of yours."

"Then again," Geto rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "I'm not sure I want to leave him to you, Satoru. I think I should defend your and your Clan' honor. Being your," Geto winked at Gojo, "rumored boyfriend and all."

"You are my boyfriend?" Gojo ripped open his eyes in surprise. "When did that happen?"

Huh, things were indeed a little hazy around Geto's recent birthday. Unfortunately, even though he should have known better, Gojo had smoked a joint at that party, and things in the aftermath could only be described as wild.

"You don't remember?" Geto batted his eyelashes at him. "Even after… all that… passion?"

Oh. Now he got it.

"I think I need more of that… passion," Gojo dropped his glasses down his nose to bat his own eyelids at Geto in return. "To trigger my memory!"

Naoya, growing increasingly irritated by the theatrics, interrupted, "Are you two done with your pathetic comedy routine? Are we fighting or not?"

Geto took a step forward, adopting a ready stance. "We are, but remember, Naoya, this is a Digimon battle, not a brawl."

"A what?"

Funny how the Zen'in's eyes bulged, now he really looked like Chuumon.

"We are SkullGreymon and MetalGreymon and you stand no chance," Geto declared, summoning a curse that emanated a foul stench.

"What is going on here?" A female voice cut through the tension like a knife. Three teenage heads snapped up to where the speaker stood on the stairs above them. Prim and proper, the disapproval making her eyes flash alluringly.

Gojo's reaction was swift and instinctive. "You can't be here, Utahime," he grabbed her arm and teleported her a short distance away, out of the Zen'in's view.

"What … the…" Her eyes were round and frightened as she turned in a circle, looking at the cedar tree under which they stood like she had never seen a tree before. Her nose, Gojo noticed, was a little red, likely because the heating at the school was still not fixed and the classrooms were much too cold. "How dare you do that without my consent!" She hurled at him and began to stomp back towards the courtyard.

"No," he grabbed her arm again. "You can't go there."

Utahime glared up at him, lips forming a thin line, her eyes ablaze with fury.

"Believe me, Naoya Zen'in is dangerous," Gojo warned solemnly. It was well known what Naoya thought of and did to women. Gojo didn't want Utahime anywhere near him.

Utahime ripped her arm free. "You," she spat out, "are insufferable. Go to hell."

But at least, she stomped in the opposite direction, which he considered a win.

"Angewomon," he murmured appreciatively. Strong, independent, radiating a sense of grace and compassion.

Naoya was still there when Gojo returned, involved in a vicious eye-battle with Geto.

"Well," Naoya drawled. "That was interesting."

Gojo didn't like the look on the younger man's face one bit. It was much too satisfied.

"You know, the rumor about you isn't that you take it up the ass, Gojo Satoru," he flicked some invisible dirt from his sleeve. "Though that would be totally in character. No, it's about you having a weakness."

"I have none," Gojo claimed.

"I'm not so sure about that," Naoya grinned and swiveled around to march across the courtyard, leaving behind a cloud of arrogance that even Chuumon might find excessive.