Chapter Text
June 2007
Gojo Satoru felt himself deflate once inside the sanctity of the Jujutsu Tech barriers. He was exhausted like he had never been before. Everything that could have gone wrong with the Star Plasma Vessel had gone wrong. He may be the first Six Eyes and Limitless user in a hundred years, but he was still, first and foremost, a teenager. Being "on" for three straight days had taken its toll.
He needed to lie down.
Despite his and Suguru’s best efforts to convince her otherwise, Amanai was sure of her decision to merge with Tengen. It was out of their hands. They didn’t want that for the young girl, but at the end of the day, it was never their decision.
Suguru eyed Satoru warily. “Satoru, I can take it from here. You’re exhausted. Why don’t you head back to the dorms?”
Satoru wanted to argue. He wanted to demand that he continue and assure his best friend that he was fine. But he wasn’t. He was barely staying upright. The stress and cursed energy overuse had caught up to him the second he let his guard down inside the school's protective barriers.
Instead of arguing, Satoru asked, “Are you sure?”
Suguru smiled, tired, but more solid than any expression Satoru could muster at that point. Reassured that Suguru could handle things, Satoru said his goodbyes. He wished Amanai one final farewell that only succeeded in exacerbating his mental and emotional exhaustion.
By the time he reached his door, his vision had started to blur at the edges, and the dull throb behind his eyes had bloomed into a full-blown migraine. All he wanted was to fall into bed and shut the world out for a few hours.
But then, something shifted.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose. A warning. An instinct.
Someone was behind him.
How the hell had they managed to sneak up on him? He was tired, but his Six Eyes still should have alerted him to their presence.
Before he could activate Infinity, a rush of air cut toward his back. Satoru ducked, grabbing the handle of the door to his door and pushing it open, lunging inside and narrowly escaping the swinging of a blade. He attempted to slam the door shut, but before he could, alpha pheromones slammed into him. As an omega, he usually relied on Infinity to protect him from the weaponization of pheromones. He faltered for a second.
A second, unfortunately, was all his attacker needed to get the upper hand.
The alpha caught the door with ease, wedging it open just enough to block him from closing it, but it still gave Satoru enough time to lunge inside.
Satoru managed to stumble inside and reactivate Infinity before the alpha could reach him. He reached for his phone, only for it to be knocked from his hand. Shock bloomed in his chest. How? He’d turned Infinity back on.
Then he felt the cold edge of a blade against his throat.
For the first time, Satoru turned his head to give his attacker his full attention. When their eyes locked, Satoru’s blood ran cold.
This wasn’t just any alpha, it was Toji Fushiguro, the sorcerer killer.
And that wasn’t just any blade, it was the Inverted Spear of Heaven, a cursed tool that could inactivate cursed techniques. Including, apparently, Infinity.
Fushiguro laughed, a horrible sound that grated on Satoru’s nerves. “Hi, princess. Finally giving me the time of day, are you?”
Satoru suppressed a shiver. He didn’t like where this was going. Still, he refused to show weakness, even though he was sure his scent betrayed him, soured with fear.
“You know, most people who want to get in touch with someone just give ‘em a ring,” Satoru said, nodding toward his phone on the floor. “They don’t stalk them and threaten them with a knife in their dorm room.”
“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Fushiguro taunted, stepping fully inside and shutting the door with his foot.
In the small enclosed space, Fushiguro flared his scent again.
“Besides,” he said, “this isn’t a social call. I’m here for a job. And might I say, it’s going exceptionally well. You all played right into my hands.”
Satoru’s mind reeled. The bounty. The detour to Okinawa. The never-ending stress. It hadn’t been a coincidence. They’d worn him down by design.
And he’d let them. Satoru cursed himself for letting his guard down.
With the cursed technique-cancelling spear still pressed against his jugular, his options were very limited and his head was beginning to cloud from the oppressively thick pheromones saturating his dorm room.
Against his will, he felt his omega reacting to the pheromones. He could feel the growing wet spot in his pants.
Fushiguro clicked his tongue mockingly. “Aww, it’s okay, sweetheart. Give in. That’s what a bitch like you is made for, isn’t it?”
Satoru wanted to scream, to hurl insults, but his body refused to cooperate. His limbs were heavy, tongue leaden.
Satoru struggled to maintain his faculties while the alpha continued to monologue unhurriedly.
“Imagine my surprise when I found out the great Gojo Satoru was nothing more than a filthy bitch. An omega.” He leaned closer, pressing the blade harder against Satoru’s throat. “How’d they hide that one, mm? You might be tall, but you reek like a bitch in heat.”
This close, Satoru could feel the hatred seeping out of the alpha before him. He couldn’t hold back the distressed whine that came up from the back of his throat.
Fushiguro shook his head like he was chiding an unruly child before he leaned in to stroke Satoru’s cheek. Satoru flinched back, not wanting to be touched so intimately by the repulsive alpha in front of him.
“Come on, babe. Don’t be like that. It’ll only be worse if you struggle.”
He smiled, cruel and full of teeth, and shoved Satoru onto the bed. Satoru tried to scramble away, but white-hot pain shot through his shoulder. He looked down and saw the Inverted Spear of Heaven pinning him to the mattress.
Trapped.
Fushiguro forced a pill into his mouth and clamped his hand over Satoru’s face, forcing his airways closed until he swallowed.
His last thought before the heat overtook him was pure, screaming panic.
When Satoru came to again, he was face down in his mattress with Fushiguro’s knot locked inside of him. His body was horribly sore, and he felt the grime of dried tears, sweat, slick, and come caked in various places across his body. He wanted to sob, to writhe, to scream, to cry, but with the knot locked, Satoru’s heat was sated and with his heat sated, his senses slammed back into him.
More than wanting to do any of the aforementioned things, he wanted the alpha inside of him dead. Growing up the heir to a wealthy clan, he can seldom remember really wanting for things as a child. He wanted to kill this man more than anything he’s ever wanted combined.
The alpha, too lost in the haze of post-nut satisfaction, didn’t notice the shift. Fushiguro had not yet caught onto the fact that Satoru’s heat haze had subsided. Satoru wondered why it had subsided so quickly when he noticed his shoulder was no longer aching as badly.
Ah, he thought dully, so this is how I finally managed to learn RCT. Satoru would laugh at the irony of it if it wasn't so cruel.
Meanwhile, Fushiguro was so out of it he didn’t seem to notice that the bloody wound had disappeared from Satoru's shoulder. He kept murmuring filth into Satoru’s ear, hands trailing over his body like they belonged there. Stroking his sides like a lover.
With his renewed faculties, Satoru began to test the state of Fushiguro’s knot. He tugged against it and felt it was beginning to loosen ever so slightly. He clamped down on it to be sure there it was deflating. It was starting to shrink.
Above him, Toji groaned, voice thick with satisfaction. “I knew the Gojo's omega would be a natural bitch. Can’t get enough can you, sweetheart??”
Satoru, not wanting to give away his plan, moaned in response to the disgusting words. His omega wanted to bare its fangs and tear Fushiguro’s throat out, but he had to time it right. Too early and he would hurt himself getting the dead alpha’s knot out of himself. Too late and he would lose his advantage. He waited another minute, feeling it creep by agonizingly slowly. Finally, he felt the knot deflate minutely and decided it was the perfect time to strike. He shifted his hips, testing the knot’s hold and pretending to enjoy himself to sell the performance.
He reached under himself, pretending to grab his own dick to stroke himself to an orgasm. In reality, he was moving his hands directly under Fushiguro. He aimed just right so his blast of hollow purple would shoot directly up into the ceiling, avoiding hurting anyone else on campus.
Fushiguro leaned forward, sharp alpha fangs ghosting over his mating glands. Satoru felt an involuntary shiver through his body as his worst fear was teased by the alpha tormenting him.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Fushiguro breathed right into his ear.
Satoru tilted his head back to look the alpha in the eyes. He summoned what little strength he had and a whole lot of confidence he didn’t feel into a smirk. “Are you, alpha?”
Fushiguro’s eyes widened, noticing the startling clarity in the omega’s eyes, but he couldn’t react fast enough. “Hollow Purple,” Satoru whispered, and Fushiguro was impaled by the blast. Blood splattered all over the walls, and worse, all over Satoru.
Satoru couldn’t bring himself to care, could barely register anything over the extreme fatigue that overcame him. He passed out.
When Satoru awoke next, it was to hushed whispers and a white ceiling. He blinked his eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the light flooding in.
“Satoru?” Suguru asked, voice laced with concern.
Satoru hummed in response, attempting to get his eyes to focus on anything in particular.
A bright light flashed in each of his eyes and he squeezed them shut.
“No concussion,” he heard Shoko say.
Satoru hummed again, unsure of what to say. His throat was dry and he felt disgusting. He looked around the room at its occupants, noting Yaga and the school’s doctor were there.
Yaga shifted uncomfortably. “Satoru, how are you feeling?”
Satoru let out a humorless laugh. “Like shit,” he rasped, and it was the truth.
“Do you… do you remember what happened?” Yaga asked cautiously.
Satoru let out a shuddering breath. Of course, he fucking remembered. He remembered being stabbed, pinned down to a bed, forced to swallow the heat-inducer, forced to, forced to…
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Satoru, just breathe with me, okay? Just breathe.”
Satoru looked up through teary eyes to see his best friend filling his vision. Oh, he was panicking, wasn’t he?
Suguru gently reached for Satoru’s hand and put it on his own chest, encouraging Satoru to match his breathing. He did, though not without great effort.
Satoru blinked a few of the tears from his eyes before withdrawing his hand from Suguru’s chest to paw at his tear-stained face. He let out another mirthless laugh, “Yeah, Yaga, I remember what happened.”
As the words left Satoru’s mouth, he felt the remaining dredges of his energy go with it. He just wanted to lay down, to sleep forever. He didn’t want to talk about what happened. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he had been… had been…. Satoru shook the thought from his head. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he killed someone, even if he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. Perhaps, because he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think. He certainly didn’t want to be comforted.
Besides, it should be obvious what happened, shouldn’t it? The compromising position they found him in should say it all. There should be nothing left to say.
He wanted to snap at Yaga, to say exactly that, but he had no energy to fight. He just stared at his lap and watched the silent tears coat the hands that lay there.
Yaga must have understood. He didn’t press further. “Get some rest, Gojo,” he said softly, reassuringly. “We’ll be here when you wake.”
Satoru nodded numbly and let his exhaustion take him once more.
The next few days in the infirmary passed in a blur of Satoru waking up, panicking, and slipping back into sleep. He felt like he was in a daze, trapped beneath a fog that refused to lift. He wasn’t even sure why he was in the infirmary. He had learned Reverse Cursed Technique, so he couldn’t be injured.
Maybe it was because his dorm had been destroyed. Had his parents been notified? Had the elders? Would he be expelled for destruction of property? For killing someone? Had Amanai successfully merged with Tengen?
Unanswered questions swirled through his mind, threatening to drown him. Then the infirmary door suddenly slammed open.
Satoru and Suguru locked eyes before Suguru rushed to his side.
“Satoru,” he said, his voice carrying a forced brightness, “We’ve been so worried about you. How are you feeling?”
“Better, I think. This is the clearest I’ve felt in days.”
Suguru nodded thoughtfully. “You went through something horrible. Doc thinks you were in a mild state of dissociative shock.”
Satoru let the words settle before slowly nodding. That sounded about right. “Amanai?” he asked, desperate to get some answers to his questions.
Surprise flickered across Suguru’s face, but he quickly replaced it with a tired smile. “Yeah. She merged. It went well.”
Satoru could tell Suguru was putting on a brave face for him.
“What happened while I was gone?” Satoru asked, ripping off the band-aid. Suguru grimaced, clearly unsure of where to start.
“Well,” he began tentatively, eyes fixed on the hem of his shirt rather than Satoru’s crystal blue gaze, “the dorms were kind of wrecked, so we’ve all moved to a different building.”
Satoru nodded. He had expected as much.
Suguru continued, voice still uncertain, “Your parents were here.”
Satoru felt whatever fragile peace he had found between moments of sleep and clarity shatter. So they had notified his parents. “Oh,” he said, unsure of what else to say.
Suguru laughed mirthlessly, “Yeah, ‘oh.’ They’ve been raising hell for three days because Yaga said you weren’t ready to talk. That’s why you’re still here, in the infirmary. As soon as they release you, your parents are going to descend upon you.”
Satoru considered this. At least his questions were being answered. “What about the elders? What about school?”
Suguru cringed. “It’s true that they weren’t pleased that you tore up the school, but no one could fault you for that. Yaga has been fighting on all sides for you.” Suguru laughed, a genuine one this time, “Try to cut him some slack next time you see him.”
Satoru was surprised by the giggle that bubbled up in response. He felt instantly lighter imagining Yaga running around, fending off angry higher-ups.
“By the way… what was that? Shoko said she saw a flash of purple as the roof blew off.”
Satoru hummed and shrugged nonchalantly. “Hollow Purple. It’s a convergence of the Red and Blue techniques. I’ve never used it before, but I knew instinctively in that moment it would work.”
Suguru stared at him in awe, then chuckled and shook his head.
Satoru flashed a genuine smile, pleased he could show off a little. Then reality came crashing back. He sighed.
“I guess I should get this over with huh?” he said, stretching as he stepped out of the infirmary cot he’d been stuck in for the past three days. His legs wobbled, and he stumbled slightly like a newborn fawn learning to walk.
Suguru caught him by the elbow, steadying him, but flinched as if suddenly unsure whether it was okay to touch Satoru so casually.
“It’s fine, Suguru,” Satoru huffed. “I appreciate you not letting me faceplant.”
Suguru smiled warmly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Satoru tried not to take it personally. It was probably a rough couple of days for everyone, not just him.
Suguru escorted him all the way to the new dorm building. Satoru was secretly relieved not to see his old one again. He would mourn the nest he’d made there. He worked hard on it, and it meant a lot to him. Growing up in the Gojo estate, he hadn’t been forbidden from nesting, but he’d never had anyone to give him scented items. The nest he’d built at school had been different. It had been full of the scents of all his favorite classmates, and for the first time, it had made his space feel like a home.
A home that had been defiled.
Satoru clicked his tongue and forced the thought away before his scent could sour.
Suguru led him to his new dorm room, and Satoru’s chest warmed when he saw his belongings had already been moved in. Some of them had even been arranged like before. A few things were missing, but he decided to ask about them later. They’d either been destroyed in the blast or covered in things he didn’t want back. Either way, if they hadn’t made it here, they were probably better left behind.
Satoru stepped into the room slowly, then turned to thank Suguru and said he’d see him later.
The first order of business was a long, scalding shower.
He turned the water up high, just below dangerous, and began the slow, painful process of scrubbing the last week off of him. He felt disgusting. Like he was rotting from the inside out.
He scrubbed until his skin turned red and raw. Then he scrubbed again.
When he exited the shower and caught sight of himself, he almost couldn’t recognize himself. He looked gaunt and tired and lifeless. His eyes looked so dull that it was hard to imagine those were the Six Eyes looking back at him. Satoru turned away from the mirror, refusing to crumble under the weight of what he was feeling.
In just a few hours, Fushiguro had taken so much from him. His virginity. The sense of safety he’d felt on campus. The peace in his own body. His dorm. His things. His nest.
Satoru wouldn’t let him take anything more.
He needed…. He needed to get it together. He couldn’t crack now. Losing his confidence and hating himself wouldn’t serve him. He couldn’t afford to crack. Not now. Not with his parents waiting. Not with the elders. Not when Yaga, Suguru, and Shoko were already fighting for him.
He had to pull it together. So he did. He toweled off, returning to his room to get dressed. He could still feel the rotting under his skin, but his favorite sweatsuit helped him feel a little more human. With his clothes back on, the only thing left to adorn was the perfectly crafted mask of Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of his generation. Omega status be damned.
Looking around the room, Satoru spotted his phone charging on his dresser. Thankfully, the altercation with Fushiguro hadn’t lost him his phone on top of everything else. He skipped over the messages from his peers and went straight for Yaga’s number.
He dialed Yaga, who picked up after two rings. “Gojo, how are you feeling?”
Satoru shrugged, knowing Yaga couldn’t see him, “Eh, I’ve been better. I’m happy to be up and about again, I guess.”
There was a pause on the line, long enough to parse whether or not that was true.
“Right... Gojo, you don’t have to be okay. You know that, right?”
Satoru waved a hand dismissively, leaning fully into the persona that had protected him for so long. “Nonsense, Yaga. I meant what I said. Anyway, I heard my wonderful parents were giving you a hard time.” The question hung unspoken in the air.
Yaga sighed, threadbare and exhausted. “I managed to send them home, but they’re not happy. They want to pull you out.”
Satoru expected as much. His status as an omega wasn’t necessarily a secret per se, but it also wasn’t something the clan wanted to broadcast. In terms of gender essentialism, the Gojo clan was relatively neutral, all things considered. They would have preferred if their clan head was an alpha, but they wouldn’t stand in the way of a powerful omega taking up the mantle.
That was the condition, though: power. Strength.
For better or for worse, Fushiguro got the jump on Satoru. Special Grade cursed weapon and Heavenly Restriction aside, he had overpowered the strongest sorcerer. That made the clan look weak.
He wondered just what was said to mother and father dearest. Did the principal tell them their sweet baby boy was deflowered? Or just that an attempt was made on his life?
“What exactly were they told?” he asked after a long moment.
“The truth,” Yaga breathed out, reticent.
“Ah,” That was enough. They both understood what that meant. “Well… thanks for holding them off for me.”
“Gojo,” Yaga said, voice steady and firm, “if you wish to stay at school, I will do everything I can to support you.”
Something warm bloomed in Satoru’s chest. “Thanks, Yaga-Sensei.”
“You’re welcome,” Yaga said, acknowledging the gratitude now that it truly meant something. “It’s Friday today, rest up over the weekend, and come find me or Doc if you need anything. I mean it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru said and slammed his flip phone shut. He laid back on the bed in his room. Despite having just slept for three straight days, he still felt a bone-deep exhaustion. He laid back on the bed (nestless bed, his omega reminded him loudly) and fell into yet another restless sleep.