2006
Late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the sprawling grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High, its rays filtering through the ancient trees that bordered the school. Birds chirped in a distant harmony, oblivious to the sorrow unfolding beneath them.
Sayuri Sato sat alone on the bottom step outside the dormitories; her posture slumped as silent tears dripped from her jawline. Ashen eyes, now swollen and red, stared at the ground as she dug the toe of her boots into the spaces between the cobblestone path. The world around her seemed to blur, the familiar sounds of students training fading into an indistinct murmur.
She clutched a necklace in her hand, one she always wore, a black ribbon chain with a gold heart-shaped locket dulled from years of being worn and handled with love. Within the pendant, she found a picture of her mother, beaming with joy, arms clutching a much younger version of herself. The image was a stark contrast to the crushing reality she now faced.
Her mother, the woman who had been her rock, her savior, and her greatest friend, was gone. Informed of her death earlier that morning, teachers expected Sayuri to continue her training as if it were just another day. To most, it was just another day. The breeze still rustled the leaves, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers as a cruel reminder of life's ongoing beauty despite tragedy. With life came death.
Sayuri sucked in breath to compose herself, but her body betrayed her. Her shoulders trembled as another wave of grief washed over her. Two more tears fell freely, soaking through black pants to the tops of her thighs beneath. She knew her mother's prognosis wasn't great, but with treatment, she assumed they had more time. For fifteen years, all they had was each other… and she hadn't been there for her mother in those final moments.
She would hold onto that guilt forever.
Two pairs of footsteps approached the stairs as Sayuri grieved. Initially, deep in conversation, their pace grew hesitant, and their voices hushed when they saw her. The young woman straightened but didn't turn to acknowledge them. Instead, she wiped the wetness from porcelain skin with the sleeve of her uniform and secured the locket around her neck again. She held breath at the back of her throat, falling still as she listened to the rhythm of a steady heart.
She didn't want to be seen like this, nor did she want comfort from a stranger. Comfort required trust, and that didn't come easily for Sayuri. In her experience, sympathy from strangers often resembled pity, making her stomach twist. Sayuri was taught to navigate hardships without becoming a victim, and while it didn't always lead her to make the best choices, those choices offered her ways of concealing vulnerability. Sympathy, even for the loss of her mother, felt like a spotlight on her weaknesses. So, she inclined her head, strands of pale hair hiding her countenance as their shadows fell across her. She wanted nothing more than to disappear.
"A first-year?" A male's voice—both gentle and inquisitive as he passed. He spoke to his companion, referencing her as if she didn't exist. "There are three of them this year."
"I saw some of them sparring yesterday…" The second voice flowed with confidence. Another male—one brazen enough to critique her fellow first-years, having only seen them from afar. "Let's just say that Yaga-sensei has work cut out for him."
"We stood in the same position only a year ago," the first voice reminded.
The other student scoffed. "You and Shoko, certainly..."
A brief glimpse was all she needed to confirm a faint suspicion that such arrogance belonged to Satoru Gojo. He glanced over his left shoulder to find her slumped on the stairs, eyes swollen from crying. She could only imagine how weak she seemed to them. Her face grew hot with embarrassment, the color spreading from pale cheeks to the tips of her ears. That would be their first impression of her.
Every student attending Tokyo Jujutsu High knew or would come to know her as Sayuri Sato. Even she had lived in blissful ignorance as Sayuri Sato until her ninth birthday. Unbeknownst to her, her true name carried weight in a society she knew nothing about until her mother's confession over a slice of strawberry shortcake with a birthday candle.
Her name was Sayuri Gojo.
It was not her father's name, it was her mother's. Akiko revealed that she had lived amongst the Gojo Clan for most of her life, dreaming of purpose, while her family cared only for politics within jujutsu society. Powerless, she was of little use to them and grew resentful as she aged—always burning for connection to life outside the clan or meaning within.
For once in her life, that resentment sparked a fire that pushed her from the comforts of home, and Akiko found the connection she desired in a man from another sorcerer clan. Young and naive, she fell in love with the affection he offered in secret, and she became pregnant only four months into their affair. The news shamed her family, and Akiko was exiled from the Gojo Clan. Afraid of exile from the traditionalist clan, he, too, refused Akiko and their unborn child. Akiko shared nothing more of him—not even a name. She reassured Sayuri that nothing about him mattered, but part of her would always be curious.
After that conversation, Sayuri lost trust in her mother for some time. So much of her life had been hidden away without consent, and while her mother presumed the truth would put her mind at ease, it left Sayuri confused and angry. So, out of spite, she poured energy into techniques and abilities she didn't quite understand. Sayuri became outcasted by the children she once called friends and found herself in the principal's office more often than her mother would have cared to admit. It left Akiko no choice but to seek a proper education for her daughter, and it was then that she introduced Satoru Gojo as her cousin. They had never met, but Sayuri knew him as the pride of the Gojo Clan.
"Why is she crying?"
"No idea," Satoru muttered. "I don't care to know either. I can't be late to class again… but if it matters so much to you, maybe you should ask." The second year gave his comrade a playful shove. "Go on."
Curiosity prickled in her chest as the second-years continued down the stone path away from the dormitories. Would Satoru care if he knew his aunt had died? Would he feel a sense of empathy for her, knowing who they were to each other? The other first-years had called him arrogant and an idiot, and she believed it. But with her mother gone, she had no other connection to her family. Did he know of her mother? Would he know her father?
Lost in thought, an abundance of cursed energy swelled in her chest. Sadness, grief, and anger radiated down the length of her arms as her gaze trailed after them. Two fingers gestured toward Satoru Gojo, and pale eyes glazed over as she slipped into an unsuspecting mind.
Within seconds, the world around her blurred, and Sayuri stood at the edge of an ethereal landscape that existed outside of time and space. The sky above swirled with a vortex of colors, constantly changing and shifting. Below her feet, the ground was an ever-changing mosaic of memories and thoughts, flickering in and out of existence. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. There was far too much to see; far too much to choose from.
It didn't take long to feel Gojo's presence—a powerful and overwhelming force. It was like standing in the eye of a storm, calm yet charged with cursed energy. However expansive, his subconscious was surprisingly well-defended. Those defenses encompassed her, shifting into a shimmering barrier that appeared as she pressed forward into his mind. It rippled like the surface of a pond disturbed by a pebble. The fingers at her side twitched, and a jolt of energy surged through her as she pressed again.
Summoning her strength, Sayuri closed her eyes and focused, trying to find a weak spot. But the barrier responded, shifting and adjusting, remaining impenetrable. It was like trying to push through solid steel. Her brow creased with frustration, and her eyes shot open to find Satoru Gojo facing her—his features strangely calm. Curious, even. Sayuri felt herself being pushed back as he stepped toward her again, his force gentle yet irresistible. The ethereal landscape began to dissolve, revealing the familiar colors and shapes of jujutsu high.
Gojo stared at the girl who looked just like him, a thin brow arched as they existed in silence.
"What was your plan, hm?" he finally asked. The corners of his mouth pulled upward to form a smile just as arrogant as Sayuri had imagined. The second-year had pulled away from his friend and stood with both hands in his pockets.
Sayuri dared not move, her mind still reeling. What was her plan? To infiltrate his mind and search for memories that showed her more of the Gojo Clan? Search for the impossibility that he had known her mother, if only for another selfish glimpse of her? Perhaps find information on her father? All of it was foolish.
Satoru bent down to Sayuri's level, his head tilting as he continued. "I've heard a little bit about you," he said. "Neat trick, but you'll have to try harder than that if you plan to get inside here..." He tapped an index finger to his right temple and then coaxed a pair of tacky glasses down the bridge of his nose to reveal two piercing blue eyes.
Sayuri lost herself in them momentarily, her lips parting for words she couldn't quite form. Her mother had called his innate gift Six Eyes.
He smirked, glancing at the boy who had turned back for him. "I think the brat is a mute."
Brat?
"I can speak," Sayuri told him. Heat filled her countenance again, this time from anger, and painted the apples of her cheeks a rosy shade.
"Ah, good," Satoru nodded and pushed himself to stand upright. "Tell me, does it upset you that you can't slip past my technique, first-year? Will it make you cry again?"
Bastard.
Gracefully, Sayuri stood, her arms crossed to match his boldness as she continued. "I can't slip past it yet… but if you continue talking about me, I will break through that thick sku—"
"Please…" The dark-haired second-year had appeared beside them. "Forgive him." He threw an arm around his friend's shoulders and offered the girl a kind smile. "He lacks manners." Satoru tried to shake him off, but to no avail. "Don't you, Satoru?"
For the first time, Sayuri focused on Suguru Geto.
His dark gaze was intense. It was piercing yet soft at the very same time, carrying the weight of what felt like unspoken thought. And in that brief instant, Sayuri felt he could see right through her. Silently, it felt as if he had peeled back her layers for a glimpse of her soul. The world around them seemed to blur, the sounds of the training grounds and wind rustling through ancient trees fading into a distant hum of the energy idling in her chest.
Suguru stood tall and composed, fallen pieces of dark hair from his bun framing a face that was both striking and enigmatic. There was an air of authority about him—quiet, unlike Satoru—a presence that commanded the space around them. Sayuri's eyes were drawn to him as if by an invisible force, and she found herself unable to look away.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"My name?" The young woman blinked, forgetting for a moment that Satoru existed amongst them. "My name is Sayuri Sato."
He nodded gently. "It's nice to meet you, Sayuri. My name is Suguru Geto."
"I know," Sayuri said at once. Though embarrassed by such eagerness, her lips parted again. "I… overheard the other first-years talking about you."
Another soft, knowing smile flickered across Geto's features. "Oh?" He turned his head to Satoru, the expression growing only slightly boastful.
Satoru crossed his arms. "I'm sure they were talking about me too, hm?" he interjected, unable to help himself. "Did you happen to catch my name?"
Sayuri's attention shifted, pale eyes narrowing as she regarded her cousin. It took strength not to let her amusement show. "No," she lied. "Who are you?"
Visible shock washed over him—his expression so priceless Sayuri vowed she would remember it in both life and death. And when Satoru cursed under his breath, she couldn't help but grin. Even Suguru chuckled, and Sayuri felt something strange swell in her chest.
It took Satoru Gojo a moment to catch on, and even when he did, he didn't laugh. Eying them both, he shook his head and turned away. "I'd prefer the brat as a mute… I'm headed to class." Her cousin shoved his hands into his pockets again and walked off.
Sayuri expected Suguru to march after his friend, but the smug expression faded from her lips as he lingered beside her. She swallowed, idly reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was only joking… I, uh… hope that wasn't a total blow to his ego."
Suguru glanced over his shoulder, watching his fellow second-year disappear behind the gymnasium doors. "He'll be fine," he reassured. Geto then tilted his head, watching Sayuri as he continued. "Will you, though? Be okay, I mean..." A hand moved from his side, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
If only for a moment, Sayuri had forgotten. But the sorrow consumed her again, and that familiar, suffocating sense of grief gripped her windpipe. Sayuri feared she would break down again if she spoke, just as he had witnessed on the stairs. She didn't know why he cared—his friend didn't. And no matter how dreadful or humiliating concern from a stranger may have seemed, Sayuri secretly appreciated his small act of kindness.
"I think so," she told him.
"Good." He nodded then, the hand returning to his side. "If you ever need help, just ask. We're in this together, you know?"
If he only knew. Sayuri shifted, idly wringing her hands. "Thanks…" She managed a faint smile. "I will."
Suguru turned slowly, leaving Sayuri to stand alone once more. She watched him walk down the path and into the gymnasium after his friend. And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she felt the warmth in her chest fade in his absence.