There was a moment of silence. Gojo coughed ominously. Fushiguro was glad he wasn't interfering. Normally, Gojo was the one who handled any nearby civilians when they were taking down cursed spirits, but right now, Fushiguro really doubted he was capable of that. He looked so feverish and sick that if Fushiguro had been a train conductor, he probably wouldn't have trusted anything Gojo was saying. Fushiguro may be young, but he was definitely better equipped to handle interacting with the public right now, and if they were going to get the conductor on their side, it was going to come down to him and Itadori.
"Alright," the conductor said. "I'll…need some time, to convince everyone to leave. But I'll clear the way for you, if you keep the passengers safe."
"Thank you," Fushiguro said solemnly. He'd seen Gojo do this sort of thing a lot, and he handled it with his usual confidence, setting people at ease even despite themselves. Fushiguro didn't have that in him, but it seemed at this point, any voice of quasi-authority would do.
The conductor nodded at him and left, hurrying off to the front of the train. Fushiguro settled back into his seat and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure that was going to work, and he suspected that they might be hearing from the assistant staff about the way they'd handled this, but that couldn't be helped at the moment.
"How are you doing, Mr. Gojo?" Itadori was seated next to Gojo, peering into what looked like half-closed eyes. It was hard to tell behind the blindfold.
With what looked like an effort, Gojo roused himself and his face swung slowly towards Itadori. "Hi, Yuji," he mumbled.
"Hi, Mr. Gojo. Fushiguro got the conductor to evacuate the front cars, alright? So we can go and fight the, um, curse user?"
Gojo nodded, his arms trembling as he started trying to push himself upright. He moaned, swaying dizzily, but kept trying.
"Wait, Mr. Gojo," Fushiguro said firmly. As gently as he could, he put a hand on Gojo's shoulder and pushed him back into his seat. Gojo flopped backwards, looking vaguely shocked.
"We don't have to go yet," Itadori explained, shooting a worried look towards Fushiguro. "The front cars aren't clear. You have some time."
"Oh," Gojo said softly. "Good." He lowered his head, drawing his knees up towards his chest in an almost childlike motion.
Itadori sent another worried glance towards Fushiguro. Fushiguro shook his head, not entirely sure how he was supposed to respond.
Itadori seemed to understand him, though, and he edged a little closer to Gojo. "Mr. Gojo? Do you want your ginger ale?"
Gojo stiffened, still huddled over his knees, then, after a long moment, nodded. "Yes."
"Wow." Itadori popped the tab on the can, holding it uncertainly. "That's the least excited I've ever heard you sound about sugar, Mr. Gojo."
Gojo hauled himself upright, drooping slightly as he reached a hand out for the soda. "Well…I don't feel very good, Yuji."
Fushiguro felt his eyes widen. That was obvious, of course, to any onlooker at all. Still, he wasn't sure that he'd ever heard Gojo admit to something like that. Gojo didn't like admitting to any sort of weakness at all, not even being wrong about something.
"The ginger ale will help you feel better," Fushiguro offered. "Even though it's not water."
Gojo nodded, although Fushiguro didn't think he looked very convinced. Fushiguro watched him eye the can dubiously, but he was interrupted before he could take a sip by the sound of the door at the end of the car opening. A few people filed past, looking disgruntled. The conductor must be starting to get them to move. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to Fushiguro, Itadori, and Gojo, despite the fact that Gojo had a scarf tied around his eyes and his shirt was spattered with no small amount of blood.
More passengers filed past. Fushiguro wondered vaguely how many cars away they were from the front, how many passengers would need to leave before those train cars were clear. He maybe should have asked the conductor - he didn't want to sit here too long, and risk Gojo declining enough that he couldn't keep infinity up anymore.
Fushiguro watched as Gojo took a few big sips of his ginger ale. Fushiguro thought that was a good sign, until Gojo made an ominous gagging sound. He clapped a hand over his mouth, back rounding. Fushiguro was sure he was going to vomit, which was going to be disgusting and definitely attract attention as well, but Gojo seemed to somehow get himself under control, swallowing hard and sinking back into the seat.
"Um, that's probably enough ginger ale," Itadori said. He reached out and plucked the can from Gojo's unprotesting fingers.
It took Gojo about five seconds to respond.
"Hey," he said softly. "I was drinking that."
Itadori's mouth turned into a stressed-looking line. "Well…now you're done with it."
Gojo sighed, but didn't say anything else. That was concerning in and of itself - Gojo didn't usually let other people tell him what to do.
Fushiguro noticed that Gojo's breathing seemed to have gotten a little strained. It wasn't too bad yet, but each inhale sounded crackly, like he was coming off a very bad cold. His lips had gone very pale. His whole face was pale, in fact, aside from two high spots of fever that were half-hidden by the scarf.
Not good. Fushiguro had definitely never seen Gojo in a state like this. He hadn't even known he could get this bad. It didn't seem fair, for the strongest sorcerer of the modern era to get so sick just from a cup of tea.
He hoped Gojo could hold out. He hadn't ever had to worry about that before. It had never even occurred to him to imagine a situation where Gojo's presence didn't immediately solve the problem. He didn't much like it.
In the corridor, the stream of people started to slow, then stopped. Fushiguro waited a few minutes to make sure there were no stragglers, then leaned across Gojo to catch Itadori's eye.
"We should go," he said quietly. He didn't say the rest of what he was thinking, which was that they had to hurry, or Gojo wouldn't last long enough for them to take out the curse user.
Itadori looked at Gojo, and his eyebrows drew together in a frown. He looked back at Fushiguro, nodding. Apparently, Fushiguro hadn't had to finish the thought.
Gojo didn't seem to notice their conversation. He hadn't moved much since Itadori had taken away the ginger ale, once again ducking his head down over his knees.
"Mr. Gojo, we need to go to the front of the train now," Fushiguro told him. He was careful not to touch Gojo's shoulder.
"To fight the curse user," Fushiguro finished. He wasn't sure if Gojo remembered what they were supposed to be doing.
But Gojo nodded, which was encouraging until he sat up and Fushiguro saw blood trickling steadily from the corner of his mouth. Gojo didn't seem to notice.
"Do you need help standing?" Itadori asked. "We can help you up."
" I can help you up," Fushiguro said firmly, directing a glance towards Itadori's injured arm. He positioned himself in front of Gojo, offering the teacher his hand.
Gojo's fingers felt cold, and startlingly weak. Fushiguro was almost afraid to grip them too hard, in case he hurt Gojo. He wrapped his hand carefully around Gojo's, pulling him to his feet and taking Gojo's elbow to steady him.
"Are you ready, Mr. Gojo?" Itadori sounded worried, possibly the most worried Fushiguro had ever heard him. That was rare, too. Itadori usually just sounded…well, like Itadori. Loud, cheerful, and compassionate. Fushiguro wanted that version to come back.
Gojo nodded, took a step forward, and stumbled heavily on nothing. If Fushiguro had been about a second slower, Gojo would have fallen flat on his face. He struggled with Gojo's weight, sliding closer and wrapping his arm around Gojo's waist.
Gojo didn't seem to notice. His head drooped, blood sliding out of his mouth and splashing onto the floor. His skin felt hot to the touch. Did poison usually make you feverish? Fushiguro wasn't sure. He had never been poisoned.
Gojo wasn't reacting to the fact that Fushiguro was touching him, and Fushiguro almost wished that he would - at least when he'd been visibly nervous earlier, Fushiguro had known that he understood, at least on some level, what was happening. Now, Fushiguro wasn't sure if that was true. The only thing he was sure of was that Gojo was still managing to keep infinity up, because they would have been shot already if he hadn't.
Fushiguro started trying to tug Gojo forward. Gojo managed a halting, stumbling step, but his legs seemed to be on the edge of giving out.
"Let me help," Itadori said.
"Your arm-"
"I'll be fine." Itadori slid out of the sling, and swung his arm a few times as if to warm it up. His face looked a little pinched, and but no further blood appeared on the makeshift bandages.
"Does that hurt?" Fushiguro asked, worried. The last thing he wanted was for Itadori to somehow end up hurt worse as well. But then again, Itadori was a lot stronger, and Fushiguro really wasn't sure how long he could keep Gojo upright on his own.
"It's not so bad," Itadori said. "Like I said, I'll be fine."
Itadori wrapped an arm securely around Gojo, and started hauling him forward. Fushiguro still felt bad, but he had to admit, it was much, much easier to walk with Itadori helping.
"Have you ever seen him like this?" Itadori asked. He sounded almost conversational, but Fushiguro thought there was an edge of anxiety in his voice.
"No," Fushiguro said. He was way too exhausted to lie or pretend. "Never."
There was a small pause. "Do you think he'll be…okay?" Itadori finally asked.
"He always is," Fushiguro said. He hadn't meant it to be a question, but he thought it had kind of come out sounding like one.
Gojo murmured something unintelligible. He didn't look up from the floor.
"What was that, Mr. Gojo?" Itadori asked.
"'M okay," he whispered. "Don'...worry."
"Okay," Itadori said, although he looked like he may be more worried. "Thanks for…letting us know."
He was supposed to be walking. Gojo remembered that, even though the world around him had receded into a haze of agony. It felt kind of like his organs were liquefying inside him, and all of the bits of him that were supposed to keep them together were liquefying too.
That was probably was about what was happening, honestly. Gojo also remembered, like it came from another lifetime, drinking a cup of disgusting tea. And then feeling like this, and seeing the students' faces as they realized he'd been poisoned.
Gojo's mouth filled up with something soupy, either blood or…organs. He didn't have the strength to swallow it. And with the way his stomach was roiling, like it was doing flips inside his abdominal cavity, it would come right back up anyway.
Instead, he let whatever-it-was trickle down his chin. He was pretty sure that was okay, that he didn't have to be careful of being seen anymore. That the students had done something about that.
He hoped he was right, because this situation was long past being under his control.
Gojo stumbled forward another few steps. He wasn't sure how effective they were. His legs felt far away too, like they belonged to someone else. He didn't think they were supporting much of his weight.
Come to think of it, he wasn't sure how he was even managing to stay upright. A jolt of something approaching fear twisted through him, and he waited for his face to make contact with the floor. But the impact never came, and it felt like he was still moving forward.
Right. The kids. Gojo replayed a memory of falling, separated from him by what seemed like an endless gulf but could only have been a few minutes. Megumi had caught him. And then….Yuji.
Gojo felt the guilt before he could dissect exactly why. It hit him like a wave, mixing nauseatingly with the pain in his midsection. Had he done something wrong? Something he should feel bad about?
Oh. Yuji was hurt, that was right. And instead of protecting him, like a good teacher should, Gojo was letting his student drag him around like a sack of potatoes. Just something else in the long line of things that Gojo never should have let happen.
Gojo hung his head. Blood slipped from his lips, and wished that he had a way to stop it. But from the way that his legs felt, and how blurry the world around him had gotten, he didn't think he'd even be able to stay upright without Yuji.
Why was Yuji hurt again? Gojo's mind slipped, sliding past the recent events until something caught. He'd been shot, right. When Gojo had taken down infinity, a cursed technique had activated remotely, and that was why he was feeling guilty over Yuji. He'd moved, and he'd been shot when it should have been Gojo instead.
This was also why he hadn't used RCT on the poison. He had to keep infinity up. Infinity was all that was in between the students and the poisoned spikes. If infinity came down, his students could be hurt. They could even die.
Gojo's head felt like it was being slowly pried open, his legs were like jelly, he was so nauseous his mouth tasted bitter. Probably, there were lots of Six Eyes users who wouldn't have been able to keep infinity up in a situation like this one. But Gojo wasn't really worried about that. He had a job to do. Or really, it was three jobs. Keep walking, keep the kids safe, keep infinity up. And when Gojo had a job to do, it always got done.
It wasn't really a question of whether or not he could keep infinity up. It wasn't even a question of how long he could keep infinity up. He already knew the answer - it was as long as he needed to. The only question he had really was what keeping infinity up might do to him. But unless he was dead, he would be shielding the kids.
"Come on, Mr. Gojo," Yuji was saying. "Just a little farther. I…I think."
Gojo kept walking, even though his vision had narrowed to a pinpoint and he knew he was hardly taking any of his own weight.
"Is he…even still conscious?" Gojo vaguely heard Yuji ask. Gojo thought about trying to muster up an answer, but it seemed like too much work. And answering didn't matter. What mattered is that he was still doing his job, that he still had infinity up. And he did.
"Yeah," Megumi said. "But I don't know…how much longer he can last. He looks kind of-"
The end of Megumi's sentence was lost - blood was rushing in Gojo's ears. He kept walking. He felt like he was floating, dying, falling. But he could still feel Yuji's arm at his waist, so he was sure he must still be moving forward. Yeah. He was fine. He could do this.
Infinity was still up.
"I think this must be the last car," Yuji's voice was saying from somewhere that seemed to be right next to his ear and miles away at the same time.
Gojo tried to lift his head, suddenly aware that they'd stopped moving. Maybe he'd gotten too heavy…. And then his brain caught up to Yuji's words, and he understood.
It was time to fight. Just like infinity, that was Gojo's job. He would see it through.
"Mr. Gojo? You're awake?"
Yuji again. Gojo forced his head to turn towards him, but he couldn't summon a smile. It would probably look pretty bad anyway, considering all the blood in his mouth.
"Hi, Yuji," he mumbled. His voice sounded worse than he'd expected, kind of raspy, like he'd been coughing up the back of his throat lining. "Lessgo."
"We're running out of time," Megumi said from his other side. Gojo didn't know if Megumi meant time for him or time on the train, and he couldn't bring himself to ask.
"Okay," Yuji responded, and Gojo could feel him nod to himself a few times. "Let's knock this guy out."
Gojo stayed slumped over Yuji and Megumi as Megumi reached a hand out to the door of the train. It slid open, and his students shuffled him through.
As soon as they started walking, a starburst of nausea hit, and his head dropped back down. More blood, from his nose this time, joined the goop that was leaking out of his mouth. Gojo coughed helplessly, feeling the thick liquid gather against his throat and begin to choke him.
"Oh, sorry! Are you with the train?"
Gojo didn't recognize this voice. He struggled to lift his head, abandoning the effort as he was overwhelmed by another round of gagging. He couldn't breathe. He was going to choke on his own liquefied insides.
"I'm sorry, I'm running late, I know, I just can't find my phone…."
Movement. Above his head. Yuji's breath was on the back of Gojo's neck, and Gojo couldn't lift his head even if he had the strength, because Yuji was leaning in towards Megumi.
"Um, isn't that guy just a…regular guy?"
Gojo spat out a heavy mouthful of goo and snapped his head upright, ignoring the surprised yelp from Yuji as he yanked his own head out of the way. The man Yuji had been talking to was at the far end of the carriage, dressed in a pretty decent suit and holding a briefcase. He would have looked just like an ordinary businessman, if not for the cursed energy that Gojo could see bleeding off him.
"There's no one else in here," Megumi said. "Where's the-"
"That's him," Gojo rasped. He hoped he was still able to make himself understandable - his tongue seemed to have grown very large and difficult to control, and his throat was burning.
But thankfully, both Yuji and Megumi snapped to attention.
"That's the poison guy?" Yuji confirmed.
Cursed energy surrounded the man like a cloud of vapor, bright enough that fuzzy gray afterimages started to float across Gojo's vision. There was no doubt in Gojo's mind that this guy was a powerful curse user.
"Yeah, that's-"
Gojo was cut off by a sudden flare of cursed energy. This was accompanied a millisecond later by a stabbing pain in his stomach. Gojo folded forward, legs suddenly unable to take even a fraction of his weight.
Okay, okay. The guy had clearly activated some sort of cursed technique, and now Gojo was in agony. Gojo assumed he could control whatever poison his technique created, since that was basically what he would have had to do to hit Yuji with the poison spike. But that control apparently extended to poisons that were already inside one of his victims as well. Gojo was almost positive that's what was going on - now that Gojo was close by, the curse user could activate some sort of technique that caused his poison to do extra damage to Gojo.
And that made Gojo's situation worse. Much worse. Possibly, the curse user would be able to kill Gojo now that he'd gotten close, whether Gojo took down his infinity or not. And Gojo had essentially walked right into a trap. If Gojo wouldn't take down infinity, then the curse user needed Gojo close to have any shot at killing him. And Gojo had wandered right up to him.
Any thoughts of what he should actually do about any of this were driven right from Gojo's mind as the pain increased. Agony circled Gojo's midsection and clenched tight, and Gojo wrapped his hands around his middle almost on instinct. He was gasping for breath.
He gritted his teeth. He needed to stay conscious. Normally, not even unconsciousness would pull Gojo's infinity down - that's how used to keeping it constantly active he was. But it had been years and years since that had really been put to the test. And if he was in a condition like this….
He had to stay awake.
Gojo forced himself to inhale again, trembling with pain as the air seared the back of his throat. Everything felt raw, like his insides had been raked with broken glass. His cheek flopped down against something hard, and Gojo realized vaguely that he was on the floor of the train.
That stopped mattering when Gojo took another breath and choked on it. The pain in his abdomen ratcheted up another notch, and a sickening tearing sensation accompanied his coughing.
Something was coming out of his throat. Gojo gagged, bringing one of his trembling hands as near to his mouth as he could get it, and spat out the spongy mass he'd just coughed out. He was pretty sure it was a piece of lung, or another one of his organs, and he was pretty sure more was going to follow it.
If he didn't have RCT, that would have been a death sentence. As it was…it certainly wasn't good.
Gojo whimpered without really meaning to, curling around himself and panting through the pain. Somewhere far away, the curse user was yelling. Gojo could hear the sounds of something splintering, and at first he thought it was something else inside him. But when he managed to look up, blurry though his vision was, he could see the curse user's poison spears breaking as they struggled to push into infinity.
So that meant the students were still safe, at least for now. But Gojo couldn't just lie on the ground and hope someone else would fix this for him. He needed to get up. He needed to fight.
Gojo tried pulling his arms under him, rolling over and pushing himself upright. For a second, he didn't recognize the sound he was hearing, a low, agonized moan. When his arms gave out and his cheek slammed back onto the floor, he finally realized it had been coming from him.
"Mr. Gojo, whoa, don't try to move."
There was a hand on his back now, effectively pinning him to the ground. Gojo wriggled, but all that did was set off the pain in his stomach.
"Please don't move," Yuji said, and his voice was surprisingly soothing. "You're gonna be okay, alright? Fushiguro's got this."
Fushiguro? No, this was supposed to be Gojo's job, and this curse user was obviously pretty powerful. Megumi could get hurt.
But Gojo couldn't move. Instead, he let his mouth fall open, feeling more blood slip onto the ground. He half-expected to feel Yuji's hand get pulled away as Yuji decided that this was too much for him.
"Stay still," Yuji said. "Just…all you need to do is keep infinity up. Otherwise-"
Something in Yuji's voice got Gojo's attention. With a massive effort of will, he twisted himself around so he could see what was going on.
Megumi had fallen back slightly, but he was upright and looking serious. A few feet in front of him, where Gojo knew the range of infinity ended, spikes like the one that had skewered Yuji's shoulder were approaching and then freezing in mid-air. There were at least ten that had been stopped cold by Gojo's technique. But if he were to drop infinity, all of those spikes would be plunging into Yuji, Megumi, and Gojo in less than a second.
If infinity was down anyways, Gojo would probably be able to heal himself from the damage. Yuji might be alright too, with his poison resistance. But Megumi….
Megumi would never survive it.
Gojo forced himself to keep breathing. He wouldn't drop infinity. Megumi didn't need to worry.
As Gojo watched, Megumi made the sign to summon his demon dog, which sprang into being a few feet in front of him. Immediately, the dog was stuck through with at least five more of the poisoned spikes. Were shikigami immune to poison? With everything else going on, the information from Six Eyes was muddled, and Gojo couldn't remember. He hoped they were though, or else….
The spikes did seem to slow the dog down. It didn't vanish, thankfully, but when the curse user shot the next round of spikes, the demon dog dodged instead of taking them head-on. It couldn't take endless damage without disappearing, it seemed.
"Can you make it hurry up?" Yuji yelled. "I don't know how much longer Mr. Gojo can hold this!"
Forever, Gojo wanted to say. But he didn't have the strength.
He was stopped from even trying by another burst of cursed energy from the curse user. At first, Gojo wasn't sure what had happened. And then, he started to detect a faint mist slowly filling the train car. Yet another application of the man's cursed technique - poison was filling the air.
Infinity could do a lot, but it couldn't keep out mist. There was no way this new poison could be as potent as something ingested, or the poison spikes. But it would be getting through infinity. And there was nothing that Gojo could do to stop it.