In the Year 2005
"I want you to think about your weaknesses and what to do about them. I expect an essay by tomorrow morning."
Gojo threw a furtive glance at Geto and Shoko, meeting his own puzzlement mirrored in the others' eyes. Tomorrow morning…?
"Something unclear?" Yaga's massive body moved in front of Gojo's desk and shot daggers from his eyes down at him.
"Ah," Gojo cleared his throat, making himself as small as possible. "No, Sensei. Crystal clear."
Angering Yaga Sensei was never a wise choice, but today, his demeanor seemed particularly ominous. His disheveled appearance, with askew sunglasses and neglected facial hair, spoke of a man burdened by personal turmoil. Angering him now was probably a death sentence.
Rumors circulated that Yaga Sensei was going through a divorce. A third-year student had reportedly overheard a tense phone call between him and his lawyer the other week. Little was known about Sensei's wife, but the breakup seemed to be of the nasty kind. Whether true or not, it was better to tread lightly around him; also known as the tiptoe treatment.
"Why even get married if you end up hating each other?" Gojo mused aloud later that evening on the bus. They had tickets to Fullmetal Alchemist the Movie: Conqueror of Shamballa at the Roppongi Hills movie theater for the opening night. Pages of the essay written: zero. Minutes thought about weaknesses: also zero. "Divorce just damages the family's reputation and leads to an increase in curses."
"Your views are old-fashioned as fuck!" Geto dismissed Gojo's statement. "If two people want to separate, you better let them! All that family honor bullshit only leads to grievances."
"My parents are divorced," Shoko interjected, noisily shifting a lolly from the left to the right cheek. "My mother cheated on my father with his best friend. He got a divorce quasi the next day."
"See?" Geto pulled a sympathetic face. "That's the right thing to do. Anything else would create even more curses."
Gojo frowned. He hated it when his friends made him look stupid because they had more experience with real world matters and he had lived an awfully sheltered life in a place where divorce wasn't even in the vocabulary.
"My father regrets it," Shoko shrugged. "He's still in love with my mother."
"Harsh," grimacing, Geto stretched his long legs. "My parents can't stand each other but just like Mr. Traditional here, they would never consider getting separated because they fear the social consequences."
"I didn't say people shouldn't get divorced," Gojo boxed Geto's arm. "I said why get married only to get divorced! Better not get married at all is what I'm saying."
"Dummy," Geto boxed back with more force. "How would you know you'll get divorced in the future when you marry someone in the present? Sometimes you're so stupid I have to wonder how you manage to appear capable occasionally."
"You're both idiots," Shoko smiled amiably, "and don't be so loud, people are looking our way."
"Your clan will choose someone for you to pop out heirs anyway," smirking, Geto dropped his voice a mere fraction.
"No they won't," Gojo defended himself. Even though it wasn't beyond his relatives to urge a connection on him or drop hints about eligible matches, they had no coercive power whatsoever. "And you better don't talk like this about my future wife," he added heatedly.
"I thought you didn't want to marry?" Geto was still smirking like a cartoon villain.
"I know who he wants to marry," Shoko grinned. "Only that she'll never have him."
The idea of spending a lot of time with Utahime made Gojo a little giddy, but no, he had never even thought about marriage. It wasn't something for him. He wouldn't have time for a family. Besides, considering all the assassins sent his way, it was better not to subject anyone to such a danger, especially not a woman he wanted to spend his life with.
"Women are too difficult these days, it drives eligible men away. But you are lucky, you can marry me when you get desperate at 30," Geto turned to Shoko magnanimously. "Wanna do a binding vow?"
Shoko's lollipop fell from her mouth when she opened it in disbelief and outrage. "You know what the problem is for you men? Women no longer need to marry to survive these days, which means that mediocre men are no longer entitled to sex and relationships like they used to be."
"Did she just call me mediocre?" Geto chuckled. "Babe, you don't know what you're missing. Don't you want to sample the goods?"
Here they go again. Gojo turned his head away and stared out of the bus window so he could better ignore his friends' sexual banter. He was still convinced that getting married was stupid unless one was absolutely certain about the lifelong commitment. Unbidden, memories of his parents and their affectionate glances and smiles flashed across his mind, serving as a bittersweet reminder of a love that, in the end, had served them nothing.
Gojo's thoughts took a turn for the worse. Love was the most twisted curse of them all, the source of exquisite bliss, and the source of anxiety, hate and despair of the grandest proportions.
At the cinema, he bought himself a gigantic bucket full of gummy candy that he stuffed into his face as he watched Edward Elric struggle to come to grips with an alternate Earth in 1923. The movie was passably entertaining but not more than that and all three of them felt that they needed to do something a little more exciting with the night. Shoko suggested trying out a hip, new club in Shibuya, Geto was enthusiastic about the possibility of using his fake ID, and Gojo, already craving more sugar, trotted along for lack of anything better to do.
While his friends went wild on the dance floor, Gojo sat at the bar slurping watery coke. Upon entering this building, he had instantly developed a pounding headache, there was a cursed energy residue in the stale air that vibrated in his skull like nails scraping along a blackboard. He considered putting his face on the bar and covering his head with his arms until his friends grew tired of shaking their bodies to techno music, but an attractive blonde with extraordinarily large breasts came over to chat him up, temporarily taking his thoughts off the unpleasant aspects of human existence.
That the woman was twice his age turned out to be a bit of a deal breaker. She moved on looking guilty, leaving Gojo to ponder the pros and cons of artificially enlarged breasts and whether and when it made a difference whether breasts were natural or not. He looked for Geto to get his opinion about it, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. From across the room, Shoko waved when she caught his searching gaze, otherwise preoccupied with a man who looked strikingly like the exact opposite of Geto.
Shoko's weakness, Gojo scribbled on a napkin, is Geto.
"You want another?" The barkeeper shouted, pointing at his empty glass and Gojo nodded. With nothing better to do, it was now time to think about weaknesses.
As Gojo Satoru mulled over Yaga Sensei's request, a mental checklist of the usual suspects rolled through his mind.
Overconfidence was the first contender, the idea that his immense skill and power might lead to underestimating opponents. A mere fleeting thought, swiftly rejected. Gojo scoffed inwardly, confident that his self-assurance was well-founded. The notion of taking unnecessary risks seemed preposterous; after all, he was unequivocally the best.
Next on the list was recklessness. Could his bold and impulsive nature create vulnerabilities in strategic situations? A momentary hesitation, but just as quickly, he pushed it aside. No, it couldn't be a genuine weakness. His decisiveness and fearlessness were virtues, not liabilities.
The term "arrogance" surfaced briefly, but he dismissed it with a wave of his mental hand. Such a notion had no place in the realm of the unbeatable Gojo Satoru.
Bluntness and disrespect joined the lineup, acknowledging his tendency to speak his mind, even if it rankled others. He considered, for a split second, whether these traits could be seen as vulnerabilities. But as quickly as the question arose, he banished it. No, these were not weaknesses; they were the hallmarks of authenticity and unapologetic individuality.
With each trait summarily dismissed, Gojo's mental exercise became an exercise in self-affirmation. Weaknesses? He had none. That's what he would tell Yaga Sensei, no need to write ten pages!
"Feeling lonely?" A beautiful young man squeezed himself on the bar stool next to Gojo, batting his luscious lashes. "You look like you could use some company."
In that split second, as Gojo prepared a witty retort and sat up straighter, a rare clarity washed over him. He was mistaken; he did have a weakness. A big one.
The recognition hit him like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the self-assured haze that had enveloped him just moments before. The realization was not about overconfidence, recklessness, or any of the traits he had previously dismissed. Instead, it struck at the heart of something more profound
It was also much too personal and he would never tell anyone.
###
The atmosphere in the classroom the next day was charged with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. When Yaga Sensei collected their essays, his stern gaze seemed to linger on each student a moment longer than usual. The air thickened as he leafed through the pages, his expression inscrutable.
"I see," he finally uttered, exhaling a deep sigh that resonated through the room. "Education includes helping students make realizations. Understanding your weaknesses is the first step towards true strength."
The trio of students nodded with apparent enthusiasm, yet Geto appeared as though he might succumb to his hangover at any moment. His disheveled state spoke volumes, and the refusal of Shoko to aid him with her reverse cursed technique only exacerbated his suffering.
"You still need to take that first step," Yaga Sensei continued and abruptly tore all three essays into tiny pieces. "But before that, you get detention."
###
"What did you write?" Gojo asked Geto during their break.
"That you are my weakness," Geto smiled lopsidedly with his eyes closed. "But maybe I was just too stoned and drunk last night to write anything more sensible."
"I don't get it, why would I be your weakness?" Gojo wasn't sure whether to feel extremely flattered or deeply offended.
"It's pure logic," Geto claimed. "We two are the strongest, so nobody else can be our weaknesses. Get it?"
"Ah," Gojo was impressed. That was indeed sound reasoning.
"Who do you think they will send to eliminate you when you finally lose it," Geto chuckled. "What did you write?"
"It took me more than an hour to write it," Gojo poked his tongue out in the direction of their classroom. "But thankfully, I made a copy of it because I was so impressed with myself."
He pulled three sheets of paper out of his pocket and began to read.
"The Curse of Overspending - A Gojo Satoru Perspective. In the riveting narrative of self-reflection, one might wonder, what could possibly be the Achilles' heel of the illustrious Gojo Satoru? Surprisingly, my weakness lies not in the shadowy realms of psychology but in the dazzling allure of consumerism. Yes, you heard it right — overspending is my one true nemesis!
Picture this: a formidable sorcerer standing on the precipice of a high-end shopping district, eyes gleaming with the excitement of acquiring the next flashy accessory. Wallets tremble in fear as I begin splurging on items that scream luxury and excess. My weakness? The seductive call of the price tag.
The battlefield of overspending is where I wage my daily war, armed with credit cards and an insatiable desire for the finer things in life. From designer clothes to the latest electronic gadget, nothing is safe from my grasp. But why, you may ask? Well, dear teacher, the answer is simple — I'm a sixteen-year-old shaman who can't resist the siren song of material indulgence.
In my defense, the life of a jujutsu sorcerer demands a certain flair. After all, what good is a powerful technique if not complemented by an equally dazzling wardrobe? The balance between mastering insane power and maintaining a stylish persona is a tightrope act, and I, Gojo Satoru, am the unapologetic tightrope walker.
Of course, my friends might argue that my obsession with fashion and gadgets is a mere facade, a clever distraction from deeper vulnerabilities. But who needs to delve into the intricacies of the human soul when there's a flash sale on expensive sunglasses?
In conclusion, as I navigate the treacherous terrain of overspending, I remember that even the mightiest sorcerer has his weaknesses. So, the next time you find me emerging from a high-end boutique with bags of questionable necessity, just know that I am bravely facing my biggest battle — against the cunning allure of retail therapy."
Expectantly, Gojo turned to his friend, whose face had morphed into an incredulous expression tinged with a great deal of awe.
"That's the essay? You handed this in?" Geto asked, a mix of disbelief and admiration in his tone.
Gojo nodded nonchalantly, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
"I have a long way to go," Geto mumbled, shaking his head in amazement. "A long way. You're a genius man, an absolute, brave genius. How did you walk out of there alive? Man, I love you."
Beaming with happiness, Gojo stepped into Geto's bear hug, inhaling his friend's familiar scent of cigarette smoke and tangerines, thinking that he needn't fear his true weakness when surrounded by the warmth of such a friendship.