Chapter Text
1, Attraction
August 2006
The sun lit up the sky and burned the stone steps leading to the mountaintop with its intense heat. Steps that Gojo amused himself by counting as he happily climbed them one by one. Not far behind him, Suguru walked more deliberately, his gaze scanning his surroundings as if to make sure there wasn't much left to climb. He couldn't wait to reach the last step.
After one hundred and twenty-eight small steps, a large temple was discovered before their youthful eyes. Grainy pebbles scraped beneath Gojo's shoes as he reached the base of the building. He quickly realized they were expected, noticing the large doors already open to invite them in. At the same time, Suguru arrived beside him, in front of the few steps at the foot of the temple—unable to hide his disappointment at their discovery, even though they were far fewer in number than all the ones he had just trodden down.
"Well, I think it's time to go," the white-haired teenager moaned before heading towards the entrance.
"Please, Satoru," his best friend began as they climbed the last few stone steps that brought them closer to their destination. "Don't do anything that would cause us problems, will you?"
"Huh?" At the border between outside and inside, Satoru stopped for a moment and stared at him in a way that suggested he didn't understand why he was making such a remark. "Are you serious?"
"It's important," he emphasized, never too far from him. "I remind you that we're going to speak to the leaders of the jujutsu world."
Gojo huffed in exasperation. "Yeah, it's fine, I get it," he grumbled as he walked past him, "as usual, I'm keeping quiet."
Immediately, Suguru stopped.
"That's exactly the problem," he breathed, sounding uneasy. He watched him go ahead of him before entering the gloom of the temple himself. "You don't know how to stay in your place."
Half an hour earlier, when their mission report had barely made its way to the leaders of the jujutsu world, Professor—and future principal—Yaga had burst into the classroom. They had to jump out of their chairs and rush to the exorcists' headquarters without even having time to ask any questions.
The jujutsu Headquarters was a place hidden behind the imposing main school building. It was there that long stone stairs led up the mountain to reach the highest and most remote part of the school grounds. Like any student, Gojo had vaguely heard of it, but was about to discover it for the first time.
The first room was very dark. There was only a path lit by the faint glow of candles leading to the next door. A huge door, meant to remind anyone entering this place how small it was in the eyes of those who ruled the jujutsu world. This door mysteriously opened as they approached, allowing them to descend to the center of the room, which seemed even less welcoming and emptier than they had expected—even though they hadn't expected much.
There were no signs of life for several minutes. Just a long, heavy silence.
"It's been so long..." Gojo complained, only to be reprimanded by Suguru's click of his tongue.
At one point, Gojo heard vibrations around them. Faint noises that suggested something was stirring in the completely darkened room.
The light finally blinded them when they least expected it. Revealing six wooden and rice paper screens around them, obscuring the faces of the leaders who had taken advantage of the darkness to take their respective seats.
It was only a matter of time before the performance began.
"Young men, to begin this session, I propose a brief reminder of the mission," a slow, elderly man's voice suddenly broke through the uneasy silence inside the temple. "Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo here were chosen to be sent to the Star Plasma Vessel to ensure its safety and eliminate it to reset Tengen's fate..." He paused briefly, but since no one needed to contradict him or add crucial information at that point, the man continued. "...and you failed miserably."
"Miserably... that's perhaps a bit harsh, don't you think?"
"Satoru," Suguru immediately reprimanded in a dry whisper. They had only been there for a few minutes, and his forehead was already beginning to bead with sweat. "Hold your tongue..."
Behind them, another man cleared his throat before continuing his colleague's tirade. "According to your report and the evidence from the investigation..."
Satoru had shoved his hands in his pockets and was already no longer listening to them, much more focused on the small pebble on the concrete floor that he was rolling from one foot to the other. He had no interest in the boring chatter of the bigwigs as they drew up a non-exhaustive list of all the actions taken during their mission and their consequences. Of course, playing in such a futile and childish manner immediately seemed more interesting to him.
Besides him, Suguru was a better student. He seemed more concerned and very attentive to the slightest words and changes in tone used by his superiors. The more the facts stated leaned towards blunders, the paler his complexion became. But when he heard Satoru's low, mischievous laughter at the most serious moment of the higher-up's tirade, he felt horrified. Afraid of being heavily reprimanded for his best friend's nonchalance, Suguru nudged him and used his darkest glare to make him understand that he needed to listen to them more.
“…explain yourself.” Gojo heard when he listened to the conversation again.
He exhaled loudly and shrugged casually. “What do you want to know? You already know everything. What happened, happened because of you!”
The atmosphere deteriorated immediately as the higher-ups gasped in dismay.
“What are you saying?” one of them suddenly intervened, hidden behind the paper facade.
It was difficult to distinguish who each voice belonged to when it was impossible to associate a face or a name. Even when Gojo knew there was probably the principal of Kyoto Jujutsu High somewhere in the room and one of the members of the Kamo clan, the voices linked together, jumbled together, and sometimes merged. He never knew who was speaking, but he was sure of one thing: these six old men shared the same beliefs. Beliefs that he already had difficulty following and understanding.
"Be careful with your words, Satoru Gojo."
Gojo realized with horror that they'd had their own ideas about how to run this meeting from the beginning, before they'd even crossed the threshold of the temple gate. And damn, there was nothing worse.
For a few moments, Suguru closed his eyes and muttered something like, 'I hope Yaga-sensei doesn't find out about this,' but Gojo wasn't entirely sure. Recklessly responding to these gentlemen seemed far more distracting than the soliloquizing of his faithful best friend.
"I haven't said anything wrong, and you're already taking offense?" he said nonchalantly, a haughty smile tugging at his lips—he knew he could get away with it without restraint, since those snakes couldn't see him. "I didn't think you were so touchy."
One of the old male figures hidden behind a screen quickly squeaked out. "I knew it was a terrible idea not to invite Yaga to this conversation..."
"Excuse him," Suguru said, protecting Gojo and in a much more obedient tone than the latter, trying to calm the conversation. "Satoru doesn't always know how to express himself to his superiors..."
"Aren't you going to start too, Suguru? You know I'm right!" Gojo immediately took offense.
"Except there are less arrogant ways to say it," Suguru replied without warning, his face turned towards him, much more serious and firmer than he expected. "I warned you we'd have problems one day if you didn't make an effort to be more polite."
Satoru blinked sharply at him. He sounded grumpy and hurt: "What?"
"That's enough!" One of the six higher-ups sitting behind one of the screens clapped his hands to regain composure.
"Please, young men," interrupted a new, assertive voice. The one who thought she was the wisest voice in the room before a tragedy occurred. "We're getting off topic, I suggest everyone keep their cool."
"Kamo-san is right. Let's focus instead of getting bogged down in a confrontation that won't solve our problem."
Gojo exhaled loudly.
"Damn, I don't understand what's going on anymore."
"If you'd make the effort to follow along too..." Suguru grumbled.
"You're guilty," one of the leaders suddenly exclaimed, betraying his annoyance. "You must take responsibility for this blunder."
For half a second, Gojo looked confused. "Huh?"
At these words, he felt injustice rumbling in his chest, discovering with horror how much worse the leaders of the occult world were than he had previously thought. He had never cared for them because they distrusted him and his arrogant temperament—he always felt their frustration at not having yet managed to control him and felt their fear of never achieving it every time he dared to raise his voice at them. His anger seemed legitimate. They didn't want to hear that what happened with Riko wasn't entirely his fault. There was a bit of theirs too.
Those damned leaders must have considered themselves lucky that Suguru's sudden hand, planted on Gojo's shoulder, was enough to stop him from leaping forward and knocking them down one by one. He would gladly smash his fist into their faces, driving it all the way to their brains. He certainly wanted to.
But what would be the point?
Gojo may have been holding his fists, but Suguru's grip couldn't stop his imperious tongue from voicing his irritation. "Hey, let me remind you, we're in this situation because of you! Have you already forgotten that I wanted to bring Riko back here straight away? That I knew it would have been easier for us to protect her at our school? But you preferred to let the kid do what she wanted, and this tragedy occurred! It's up to you to take responsibility."
"Little rascal! I can't let you desecrate such defamatory remarks! What you said was Master Tengen's direct orders!"
"If you think I give a damn about his orders," Gojo's harsh voice spat.
"Little impertinent! Watch your words!"
All they could do against him was proliferate insults. But Gojo didn't care about any of that as long as he knew he was stronger than them and practically untouchable.
Numerous grunts of discontent were heard, sounding more like the yelps of frightened Chihuahuas than the snarls of enraged, mature men. Then, after long minutes of disorderly hubbub, the cacophony subsided, and they were able to regain a semblance of calm within themselves.
"That doesn't change the problem," said someone, their voice as tense as their colleagues', speaking for the first time since the beginning of this charade. "It's a catastrophe... All of humanity is impacted by your incompetence! The jujutsu world will gradually drift apart..."
"How so?" Gojo asked impertinently, not at all concerned about having interrupted a very important person. A heavy atmosphere that suddenly appeared following his question, implying that he "should know" because the theory on the importance, the ins and outs of Tengen's spells had been explained to him during a theoretical course – and recalled just before his mission. The discomfort made him turn his head towards Suguru whose face judged him as much as the uneasy silence of the senior leaders.
"So what? I don't understand what you're so worried about... We're the strongest, Suguru and I. Everything will be fine."
Trust me, he wanted to say.
Obviously, Suguru and Gojo have always been the strongest of their generation. That's why Gojo felt this mission was also a chance to gauge their strength. They fully intended to use them for other important missions. However, hearing the loud, complaining voices of the bigwigs echoing through the room once again, they hadn't lived up to their expectations. They'd gotten out of control, and the bigwigs seemed genuinely upset. Not to mention revolted by Gojo's arrogant words. This was probably the first time he'd admitted he'd made a mistake at some point during the mission. But nothing to panic about.
"I failed, it's true," he admitted. "But I feel different now."
The mood changed again. The temple was silent, but the atmosphere became much less hostile than before, suggesting that they were probing it.
After a moment of silence and sufficient time for discussion, one of the leaders finally spoke, suddenly curious to know the reason. "Does it have to do with the Six Eyes?"
"Yeah," he replied without delay. "I can feel it. My spells will be more effective from now on."
Good news or bad news? Gojo himself couldn't quite translate the heavy silence that followed.
Until a sigh of relief was heard. "We sense that the cursed spirits will increase in number over time following this disaster... Your strength will be very useful to us. As long as you respect our orders, of course."
After a few moments of hesitation, the rest of the senior leaders seemed to agree.
Gojo shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, of course. No one would dare question your orders."
"We have high hopes for you," added another, equally enthusiastic voice, ignoring his provocation. " Don't disappoint us."
Gojo quickly looked at Suguru, and when their eyes met, Gojo gave a thumbs-up in victory. His confidence and wit saved them from the worst for such a major setback. While Gojo was bubbling with excitement at the thought of his strength being recognized for the rest of his exorcism career, Suguru's enthusiasm seemed much less evident.
He couldn't hide the worry he felt at that moment. His eyes were those of someone who hadn't forgotten how the awakening of the Six Eyes had left Gojo momentarily trapped by a feeling of omnipotence. Imprisoned in his effervescent, powerful madness. So much so that his memories still projected the image of his best friend devoid of humanity into his mind, as if to warn him that he might do it again in the future.
Suguru felt that something dangerous was dormant within him. That was what he read in his eyes as he watched his best friend, but Gojo didn't feel it. He wasn't even paying attention to the (yet so obvious) question in Suguru's gaze.
Will this be okay?
The rest of the day was quiet as they wandered through the school's worn hallways. The prominent silence made the sound of their footsteps more pronounced. Each creak of the wood under the pressure of their feet betrayed the dilapidated condition of the premises, even though they were fairly well-maintained during the periods when missions were rarer.
Gojo had grumbled for a good part of the afternoon about how bored he was, rejecting all of Suguru's entertaining ideas (because they hadn't come from him). Then, as if an insect bite were felt in the small of his back, Gojo stood up so suddenly that Suguru nearly fell over. He'd decided to go find Shoko for a movie in one of the school's secret rooms.
Suguru let him. They walk side by side, but as soon as they pass a door, Gojo can't help but fling it open with a bang and stick his head through to inspect the room with disconcerting joy and speed.
"Shoko?" he asked, looking around the room. "No! Not there!"
There might be a bit of entertainment in surprising the few students he caught off guard when they turned around after being startled. Yet, when he straightened up and walked away, Gojo was always bothered because it wasn't as funny as he thought it would be.
"It's no use, Satoru," Suguru said wearily when he reached him. "I think she's in the infirmary."
"Ah," Gojo moaned with a hint of disappointment. "I just wanted to please her..."
"I'll send her a message, she'll just have to join us there." Suguru took a cell phone from his front pocket and slid the screen up. Low, high-pitched beeps echoed through the hallway every time his thumb pressed one of the buttons.
Gojo put his hands behind his head and continued walking slowly with Suguru, who wasted no time composing his message, nor putting his phone away once it was sent.
Then, just as they reached the middle of the hallway, the screeching of a door opening suddenly caught their attention. The next moment, they discovered a figure emerging from a classroom and had no trouble recognizing her. There was only one young woman on the entire campus wearing clothes worthy of a Shinto priestess.
Inner peace eluded him—as it always did when he passed her. His pulse quickened, revealing an uncontrolled—abnormal—heartbeat. Gojo felt a little strange, without knowing the reason that drove him to experience this sensation, which only appeared in her presence. Without thinking, he hid his embarrassment with a broad, smirk before moving with exaggerated confidence toward his prey, making no attempt to mask his presence.
For his ego, the more she notices him, the better.
"No, Satoru," Suguru interjected, observing the situation. "Don't even think about it."
As a good friend, Suguru knew that Gojo's behavior was sometimes... problematic. Simply put, he didn't know how to behave properly around others. Arrogant with the higher-ups (they couldn't do much about him) and extremely playful with Utahime to the point of becoming annoying—too annoying. And it wasn't for lack of pointing it out, but no matter how many times Suguru asked him to be more careful, Gojo ignored him. The only thing that mattered to him was feeling all those things he refused to name, surging in his chest every time she reacted.
In his effort to hold Gojo back, Suguru reached out a hand before he crossed the corridor, brushing against his jacket, then closing in the air, full of emptiness.
Too late.
Gojo was already on top of the young woman who was exerting a gravitational force on him.
"Hey, Utahime!" Gojo said with a devastating smile, placing a hand against the wall to block her as she started to walk away. He was always inventive in catching her in return, as she was far from easy to approach—and Gojo knew he had to work hard to look cool.
But had she ever thought he was cool?
Utahime stared at him for a moment, then abruptly decided to turn away, pretending she hadn't seen him. She headed in the opposite direction, but barely had time to take a few steps before Gojo was already on her trail. She had to quicken her pace if she wanted to dissuade him from catching up with her, but his legs were so long that she couldn't lose him.
Instead, Gojo placed a hand on her shoulder, and the light touch immediately made her turn around, feeling like she'd received an electric shock. Utahime glared at him as if that would dissuade him from doing anything. Gojo didn't seem to understand nonverbal cues and only listened to his instincts, never his target.
She sighed.
"What's wrong with you?" she hissed, frowning deeper. "If you're looking for a new way to annoy me, it's pointless. Find someone else."
Utahime turned again to try to leave, but Gojo didn't give her a chance to take a step. His hand gripped her wrist, yanking it around to slam her right back against his chest. The sweet scent of her perfume immediately intoxicated him—a delicious blend of orange blossom, tuberose, and jasmine. A feminine and mature fragrance, capable of dizzying him for a few moments and making his heart race. She had just awakened something in him, and he wasn't going to—
"What the..."
Pressed against Limitless, Utahime’s honey-brown eyes widened and rounded. Had he ever been this tactile with her? Certainly not. Not in such a reckless, primitive way. It explained why Utahime looked genuinely surprised by his gesture.
But in an instant, irritation chased away incomprehension.
"Let go of me," she demanded, her voice squeaking and less sympathetic, freeing him from her sudden, vivid thoughts.
Before doing something so rash and even more stupid, Gojo loosened his grip slightly, enough to give her a little more space. Good for thinking more clearly and getting a better look at her. He noticed the furrowed brow and the tightness of her lips. Her usually pale cheeks flushed with anger, and her brown eyes seemed to flash, holding his gaze unwaveringly.
"Oh?" Gojo gently tilted his head to the side, a flicker of curiosity crossing his unreadable expression. "Are you angry with me? Why?"
That was clever. Since he was hiding his eyes behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, she couldn't notice the excitement visible in his pupils. Gojo wasn't so aware of it either.
His question interrupted Utahime. She blinked, as if he'd thrown her, probably imagining his words was disproportionate.
She whispered her answer. "No... No, I'm not."
"Good!"
"But that's no reason to continue, Gojo!" she insisted.
Only Gojo enjoyed making a girl angry—and not just any girl. But who could blame him? She was so funny that she pushed him to tease her more than ever. If you looked at her closely, with her rosy cheeks and blazing eyes, Utahime was like a Gatomon erupting in fury mode. Sweet and elegant, yet explosive when she got angry. He never saw her as a threat (but maybe he should?), just like the little white cat when it bristled at provocation. Would she hit him with “Neko kicks”? He imagined it as intense as her “Cat's Eye”, and the revelation made him more nervous than expected.
Gojo shook his head vigorously. Maybe he should slow down a bit on the Digimon.
It was instantaneous, but Gojo preferred to fight the new sensations in his pants rather than embrace them. Without the presence of mind to wonder if this was the right place or time—or to know without asking—Gojo couldn't let her do it. His ego, alerted by an imperceptible and imminent threat to his omnipotence, screamed at him not to do this. A good student with his thirst for superiority, he listened to that little voice and put his strange dreams to the back of his mind—as far away as possible—to focus on something else.
His gaze slid imperceptibly over Utahime, settling curiously at her chest, and something dark leaped from his chest. A warmth that spread too abruptly throughout his body to the point of gritting his teeth.
His entire body froze as he stared at the slightly raised sleeve of her kosode. It was barely noticeable because she was covering it with gauze wrapped around her arm, but it couldn't be hidden from Gojo's keen eyes as he noticed a stain. A faint reddish shadow.
An injury.
His eyes widened beneath the opaque glasses, and a flood of disordered thoughts invaded his mind, breaking his usual nonchalance. Who did this? When did it happen? Why didn't she call me? The questions collided. Fast. Sharp. Causing an unusual heat within him—a dull anger, almost alien to his temperament, immolating his entire body with blinding speed.
"What is this?" he asked suddenly, his voice lower, more tense than usual.
Involuntarily, he tightened his grip, his thumb brushing the edge of the bandage. Utahime flinched, surprised by the change in tone. Her face tightened in pain, and he didn't even seem to realize it...
"Gojo... You're hurting me..."
But Gojo didn't listen to her. His gaze remained fixed on the bandage, and his face, usually marked by a smirk, hardened. His lips pressed into a thin line, and a shadow crossed his eyes, as if the idea that she'd been hurt—and he hadn't known it—shocked him more than he wanted to admit.
"You're hurt," he said almost to himself, a hint of accusation in his voice, as if she'd broken some unspoken rule by not telling him. "Who did this to you?"
Astonishment flashed across her face before the flash of anger was visible again.
"What do you care? It's none of your business!" she snarled, pulling her arm back to free herself from his grip, but he didn't budge. "And for God's sake, Gojo," she tugged at his arm again with restrained but obvious strength. "Let go of me!"
Even though her voice was venomous, he didn't budge an inch. His grip remained firm, almost nonchalant, as if Utahime's resistance were nothing more than a minor detail. Gojo still held her, still staring at her. There was no amusement, no curiosity, no smile on his face. Simply suppressed anger, mixed with a strange worry he couldn't name. His thoughts swirled again—She shouldn't have been alone. I should have been there. Why is this still making me angry?—and yet, he still didn't let go of her, as if holding onto her was the only way to keep this inner chaos under control.
"Ah... I see," he murmured after his mysterious silence, which further tensed Utahime, confused.
"What?"
She was growing impatient, almost begging him with her eyes to leave her alone, when a strange, suspicious smile crept across Gojo's lips.
"You're too weak for the missions they give you, Utahime. Let me come with you next time, so I can take care of—"
"Excuse me, are you making fun of me?!" she cried after blinking her eyes a few times in disgust. "You're dreaming if you think one day I'll ask you to help me!"
Somehow, Utahime managed to wrench her hand from his grasp and took the opportunity to turn away from him, walking off without warning.
"What? Are you leaving already?"
He looked disappointed and back to himself.
"Yes. I've reached my limit for the rest of the day," she retorted over her shoulder.
Though she didn't turn around, he saw the stiffness in her shoulders and the cadence of her walk screaming her displeasure. Hands shoved in his pockets, Gojo shrugged. "I didn't say much..."
His eyes followed her shrunken form down the hallway, moving as fast as possible away from the source of her irritation—him. He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his phone with disconcerting speed, mindlessly fiddling with the buttons. Even through pixels and a rhythmic gait, Utahime was cool—astonishing. A soft click broke the silence.
"Utahime... you're so cruel..." Gojo murmured with a contemplative smile, closing the flip to lock away his secret. He saw her speed around the corner and didn't even avert his gaze when she left his field of vision. His eyes remained lost in the distance for longer than he would have liked—right where she'd just disappeared.
It was around that moment that Suguru decided to join him. Unable to stop an exasperated sigh from escaping her lips when he stopped beside her. "Why do you constantly seek her attention, Satoru?"
That's right, why? Ever since he was born, everyone saw him as a treasure, and there was nothing he couldn't possess. He had strength. From the moment he was born, his clansmen had placed him at the top of the heir list because he had the Six Eyes. Then, upon discovering that he also carried the second hereditary spell in his fifth year of existence, they began a strict training to make him an exceptional exorcist. He had beauty. One look and all the girls were at his feet. A small smile and all the older women would slip their phone number into his shirt pocket—always accompanied by a wink, hoping to seduce him in turn. He never cared. He was a teenager who had everything he wanted without having to lift a finger. So of course, Gojo had taken the various interests against him for granted.
Until he discovered there was an anomaly in his power of attraction.
Utahime Iori. The only woman who didn't gravitate toward him. Never.
The first time, it was upsetting. She was different. The only girl who never looked at him when he stormed into the room. The only girl who never called out his name. The exception. The one who forced him (for the first time in his life) to go toward someone, toward her.
She left him no choice. He had to do something.
Gojo thought he'd draw her to him by adopting a seductive attitude. Yes, with that, he was sure to charm her. A charm he possessed naturally. But when he tried to enter her life... He was truly surprised.
Gravity reversed.
What's wrong with me, he wondered when he started acting erratically in front of her big brown eyes. She was quite pretty, so unique that he desperately wanted to make her blush when he discovered the pleasure it caused him. The goal had always been to make her lose her temper, no matter the emotion: nervousness, shyness, irritation or excitement. As long as she reacted, he was happy—even if he didn't really understand why.
A feeling he didn't know emerged little by little, but he was good at ignoring it, preferring to focus on how to make her wrinkle the nose whenever he saw her.
Utahime was an enigma, but Gojo preferred to ignore anything he didn't identify as good. Whenever he felt unsettled, he stretched a smirk across his lips. Harmless, but too arrogant and disrespectful for her.
You owe me respect, Gojo, she'd said when he pointed out she looked uptight.
I don't see why, he'd replied, punctuating his sentence with a wink.
What should have been a one-off tease had become routine. A game capable of introducing him to new things without knowing whether he hated them or not.
His pulse quickened.
"It's funny," Gojo replied.
"Still... It seems like she doesn't like you."
Gojo's tongue made a disapproving sound. "You don't know anything about women, Suguru."
In reality, Satoru Gojo didn't know much more than he did either.
Next chapter...