Archive of Our Own

Satoru would never admit it, but he came to like routine.

If someone told him during his teen years that he would enjoy waking up every day at the same time, in the same bed, about to do the same thing, he would laugh. Not me, he would say, with typical teenager arrogance, I need to keep moving.

Yet, when he wakes up it’s with the certainty that his day will start the same way as it has the past few months: moving on the bed until he finds Kento, wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer until Satoru is kissing the back of his neck or cheek or shoulder. Kento hums, always an early riser, already moving to turn off his alarm. They start their days the way most of them end, in each other’s arms, enjoying their peace.

Once upon a time Satoru thought his life would only be about killing curses and fighting to change the jujutsu world until the end of his days. Now, he thinks his life is about this, these moments with Kento, when he can almost forget who he is and what he has to do and imagine he’s just some normal adult living his boring adult life.

Satoru would do anything to protect this.

“We need to get up,” Kento says, voice still hoarse and sleepy. Satoru likes him like this, when he’s still waking up. “Or we will be late.”

“Who cares,” Satoru mumbles against his neck, tightening his grip on Kento’s body. “Let’s sleep a little more.”

It’s what he always says. And what Kento always replies is “Stop being lazy,” as he untangles himself from Satoru’s grip, getting up and stretching.

Satoru likes to watch him like this, in the dim light of their bedroom when he’s not yet the Nanami Kento everyone knows and respects. It makes him think of the boy Satoru once knew, who looked at him with impossibly gentle eyes. Kento had been beautiful then, but now he was breathtaking, grown up and so sure of himself. Even like this, still sleepy and with his hair sticking up in all directions.

He walks, turns to look at Satoru and takes off his shirt.

“If you get up now we can take a shower together,” Kento says as he starts walking to the bathroom, not bothering to look at Satoru again.

Satoru is up in a matter of seconds.

—

The thing about knowing someone for years is that you know when they want something. Fushiguro Megumi is an open book to Satoru, no matter how much he tries not to be. Satoru watches as Megumi stays behind after Nobara and Yuuji leave, pretending he’s looking at something on his phone.

“Okay, go on, just spill it already,” Satoru stops in front of him. He always liked to use his height to his advantage when it came to Megumi, but nowadays that doesn’t work anymore – Megumi is in his awful rebel teenager phase, he barely pays attention to Satoru unless he has to. “Did I forget to transfer your allowance this month or do you need more money? Maybe you want to buy Yuuji something?”

Megumi stares at him and does his best to pretend he doesn’t know what Satoru is talking about. He sighs then and Satoru wonders if it’s something serious.

“Are you dating Nanami-san?” Megumi asks, staring at Satoru.

Oh well.

“Who, me?” Satoru asks, chuckling. “Why would you even say something like that, Megumi?”

“Itadori talked to Nanami-san earlier this morning and noticed he had a hickey on his neck,” Megumi all but chokes on the word hickey and Satoru kinda wants to ask him to repeat it. “And you’re the only adult who would do that to someone.”

“You just don’t know many adults,” Satoru waves his hand in dismissal. He tries to remember if he saw any hickey on Kento, but they were too busy in the shower for him to pay attention to details. “Who knows, maybe Nanamin has a secret girlfriend from his salaryman days, someone who is into freaky stuff and who is definitely providing for him now because it’s not like we get paid a lot of money to do this–”

“I also saw you two kiss near the vending machines last week,” Megumi interrupts him, and although he’s serious as ever, Satoru can see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Ah,” Satoru, always so eloquent, says.

It’s not like they wanted to keep it a secret, but it’s not like they planned on a whole announcement either. The thing is – and they never talked about it, but Satoru knows that’s the reason – this is their relationship, one that was over ten years in the making, one that they tried to run away from, but could never truly abandon. He knows at some point they would have to tell everyone, but it’s been less than six months since they got back together for real and they wanted it to be just them for a little more.

( Kento would never admit to being as obsessed with Satoru as Satoru openly is with him, but it’s fine, Satoru knows how he is. He knows Kento better than anyone else, after all. )

Silence stretches between them and Megumi stares at him, eyes almost as cold as his father’s. Sometimes Satoru remembers Toji and all he can think about is pain – due to his injuries and what followed those days. And on those times he has to remind himself that Megumi is not Toji, that he was raised to be good, or as good Satoru could make him.

Megumi sighs again and now he reminds Satoru of Kento when he was a boy, always sighing at all the absurdities Satoru said, but never letting go of him, not completely. It makes sense, he thinks, because Yuuji reminds him of Haibara. Maybe life is always repeating the same patterns. Similar souls will always find one another.

“You don’t need to tell me,” Megumi says at last. “If it’s a new thing or it’s complicated or whatever it is that adults say.”

“It’s not complicated.” Satoru feels the urge to explain. Because it was complicated, once, but now it’s anything but. “It’s just… we have a lot of history, Nanamin and I. You kids have better things to worry about than us.”

Megumi hums, not entirely convinced. For someone so young he’s extremely good at seeing through Satoru’s bullshit. “Whatever, I just wanted to know.” He picks his phone up again. “Kugisaki and I bet you wouldn’t be able to lie to me and I lost, now I owe her a breakfast.”

Satoru stares at him, mouth agape before he starts laughing. “You little bastard,” he says, but there is no heat in his words. Then, he reaches for his wallet and picks up his card, extending it to Megumi. “Here, breakfast is on me.” When Megumi stares at him in surprise, Satoru shrugs. “I know you two will take Yuuji too and I’ve seen that boy eat, you can’t afford his meal with just your allowance.”

Megumi takes the card and he almost smiles when he says “Thanks.” He takes a step and Satoru thinks he’s about to leave, but he turns and looks at Satoru again. “And sensei?” His face contorts in a way that means Megumi is trying to say something nice. “He’s a good guy, I’m happy for you.”

Satoru smiles and Megumi’s ears turn red before he leaves, maybe afraid that Satoru will try to hug him or something. He’s a good one indeed, that kid.

—

“I’m home!” Satoru says after he closes the door, taking off his shoes and putting them beside Kento’s. He’s already taking off his coat and throwing it to the side – Kento will make him pick it up at some point, he knows, but Satoru lives to be a menace – when he spots Kento lying on the couch, a book in his hands.

This is home, the true definition of it. Kento’s apartment is way smaller than the large Gojo estate or the endless lands of the school, but Satoru wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. It’s Kento’s presence that makes it feel alive, like a place Satoru belongs to, not somewhere he uses to rest when he can.

“Welcome home,” Kento says, eyes not leaving the pages, and even this feels familiar in a way nothing else could. Satoru thinks of the boy who once accepted him, who let Satoru stay by his side even though the smart thing would be to push him away.

“I can’t believe Nanami Kento, mr. workaholic, is home before me.” Satoru doesn’t think twice before draping himself all over Kento, lying on top of him with his head leaning against Kento’s chest. “No overtime today?”

“You know I don’t do overtime unless I absolutely have to.” Kento closes the book and puts it down on the floor by the couch. “And you know you’re too tall and too heavy to keep doing this, don’t you?” And yet he wraps his arms around Satoru and kisses the top of his head.

“You’re strong, you can take me.” Satoru could sleep like this, listening to Kento’s heartbeat, safe in his arms. Still, he moves away just to look at Kento’s neck and finds a purple mark on the crook of it, half hidden by the collar of his shirt, but still visible. “Megumi asked me if we’re dating.”

“Itadori-kun asked me the same thing.”

“And what did you answer?”

“That we are, of course,” Kento replies right away, no hesitation in his voice. “Though dating doesn’t really start to describe our relationship, does it?”

Satoru shakes his head before digging his knees on the couch so he can sit on Kento’s legs. His hands instantly go to Satoru’s hips, keeping him there. Kento always touches him like this, gentle, but firm, almost as if he’s afraid Satoru will leave. Satoru undoes his blindfold, throwing it over to the coffee table so they can look each other in the eye. It’s the type of intimacy he can only have with Kento, the type that makes it even clearer to him that this is what he truly wants for his life.

“Nanamin, you think of me more seriously than just dating?” Satoru asks, voice high pitched in teasing. “How romantic!”

Kento chuckles a little, thumb under Satoru’s shirt, pressing against his skin. “I think of you as the love of my life, but I can’t say that to a teenager, can I?”

Satoru laughs, though he wants to cry. Less than six months and he still hasn’t gotten used to how easily Kento talks about his feelings. Gone are the pretenses and the excuses, they are finally on the same page. Over ten years in the making for this and Satoru knows he wouldn’t want it any other way.

I’d wait my whole life to hear this, he thinks, and it would still be worth it.

He doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t want to turn the moment into something too emotional – they worked all day, there’s only so much emotion they can take – but he still knows that Kento can feel it in the way Satoru kisses him. He bends forward, touches Kento’s cheeks with reverence and kisses him soft and slow, with no hurry at all.

“Does that mean you’ll finally accept to be my house husband?” Satoru asks when they part.

“After all the work you had to bring me back? I don’t think so.”

“But baby, think about it! You hate working, you could stay here all day, cook and clean and welcome me home in nothing but an apron. I’m so rich, I could give you everything–”

Kento shuts him up with another kiss, one hand tugging at Satoru’s hair. “Someone has to keep an eye on you,” he says in between kisses. “Make sure you’re not corrupting the kids too much.”

Satoru laughs against his mouth, moving to kiss his neck, right over the mark he left there in the morning. Kento shivers when Satoru grazes his teeth against it and Satoru kisses the tender spot. “Did you know you walked around with a hickey, Nanami Kento-san?”

Kento tugs at his hair again, stronger this time so Satoru moves his head to look at him. “I had no way of hiding it, so.” He doesn’t look away from Satoru when he speaks, but the tips of his ears turn red.

Satoru grins. “Oh my, the serious Nanami Kento likes being marked.” He kisses Kento again before kissing his jaw and the spot just below his ear that makes Kento buckle his hips up. “You’re always so serious and yet you’re just as depraved as me.”

“I–”

“I’m sorry, but who was the cute kouhai who cornered me in his room one day and said ‘senpai, I want to blow you’?” Satoru asks, laughing at the way Kento’s ears turn all red. “I was such an innocent boy back then, trying to romance you.”

“Now you’re just telling lies.” Kento smiles, one hand still in his hair and the other under his shirt, gripping his hip with enough strength to bruise. Satoru always liked his hands, strong and skilled, the hands of a killer, and yet the gentlest touches he ever felt came from them. “You were the one who followed me around and sucked my dick in an alley.”

Satoru shivers and presses closer to him. “And I’ll suck your dick now, Kento-kun.” He kisses Kento again before crawling down.

“We can go to the bedroom Satoru, you’ll stain the couch again.” And yet his hand is already on Satoru’s hair as Satoru pushes his sweats and underwear down impatiently. The couch is too small for both of them and Kento has to drop one leg down to make space, but Satoru doesn’t care.

“No, you will stain the couch again. It was your cum,” Satoru corrects him, smiling. “But don’t worry baby, I promise I’ll be a good boy and swallow everything today.”

Kento grips his hair, making Satoru look up at him. “You’re never good.”

“I know,” Satoru laughs. “But you love me anyway.”

In lieu of a reply Kento pushes his head down firmly, but not with violence. Satoru likes when he gets like this, strong and demanding and ready to take everything Satoru will give him. Sometimes, if Satoru analyzes things too deeply, he thinks that’s all the rage Kento still has in his heart, all the hate he feels for the jujutsu world, the life they live and who knows, maybe for Satoru himself.

He doesn’t care, Kento can hate him sometimes, as long as he loves Satoru all the time.

He’s already half hard by the time Satoru takes his cock out of his pants and underwear, not wasting time to wrap a hand around the base and his lips around the tip, eyes focused on Kento. It can’t be a flattering angle, but Kento likes to look him in the eyes. When Kento is hard, Satoru pulls his cock out of his mouth, letting his saliva trickle down. It’s messy, but he knows that’s what Kento likes.

They look at each other and Satoru licks his lips. “Are you going to fuck my mouth or what?”

“I knew you’d make me do all the work,” Kento nudges him with his knee and Satoru chuckles as he slides down the couch to kneel on the floor. It’s better this way, less chance of messing the couch and Kento never letting him hear the end of it. He gets up and stands in front of Satoru, holding his cock with one hand and the back of Satoru’s head with the other. “Open your mouth.”

Satoru, obedient in a way he only gets with Kento, opens his mouth. He moans when Kento pushes his dick in, not too strongly, not yet, but enough to make Satoru tremble. For a moment he doesn’t move, only looking down at Satoru, fingers brushing through his hair in a loving gesture.

All gentleness ends when he grips on Satoru’s hair again, pushing himself even deeper. Satoru makes a strangled noise and Kento scoffs, pulling his dick out almost entirely before pushing it in again, harder than before. He fucks Satoru’s mouth with purpose and strength, not giving him room to do anything but to stay still and be used, spit on the corners of his mouth as he tries not to gag.

He knows Kento likes him like this, easy and pliant – as if Satoru has ever been anything but when it came to him –, nothing but a thing to be used and discarded. Satoru imagines the power trip must be a good one, to have the strongest sorcerer of all down on his knees, taking his cock as if he was nothing. He always avoided hooking up with people who knew who he was for this same reason, so no one would have this type of control over him, no one would dare to say that’s his place.

But Kento, well, Kento is an exception in this the same way he is with everything else. Satoru has no problem in staying still and let Kento fuck his mouth raw, the only noises in the room his soft pants and Satoru’s muffled moans. He likes it when Kento uses him like this, all reservations gone, nothing but desire and his strong will taking over his brain.

This is what Satoru likes, to know that he is the only one who can make Nanami Kento, always so calm and collected, lose control and let go. He’s the only one who can reduce Kento back to pure instinct.

Satoru’s jaw is slack and he moans around Kento’s cock as he fucks his mouth, a tight grip on his hair. He is about to open his own pants when Kento speaks:

“Don’t you dare.” His voice gives him no room for disagreement and all Satoru can do is moan and whine and let Kento use him until he throws his head back and groans, coming inside Satoru’s mouth and giving him no choice but to swallow. He pulls out and falls back on the couch, brushing a hand over his face. Satoru has never seen a more attractive man.

Satoru is still hard, but all he does is crawl until he can rest his cheek on Kento’s thigh and look at him, take in the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing. His mouth is swollen and his throat is uncomfortable, but he feels the best like this, when they can bask in the silence of what they do to each other.

Kento holds his arm and Satoru knows it’s his cue to get up and sit on his lap, knees digging on the couch. It’s never too comfortable with his height, but he never cared anyway. They look at each other and Satoru opens his mouth, tongue out before he smiles.

“See, I swallowed everything.” His voice is hoarse and he doesn’t miss the way Kento shivers. “I told you I would.”

Kento doesn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he kisses Satoru, slow and gentle, but still a bit too wet. One of his hands is on the back of Satoru’s neck, keeping him in place. “I love you,” he says, because of course he does. For all his practicality it was never difficult for Kento to communicate his feelings.

He always says it after the sex, as if he needs to remind Satoru that they are no longer in that phase when they pretended to not love each other, when they’d have sex and cuddle, but not talk about feelings. And Satoru could tell him that he knows they’re past that, that they’re a couple now, a very boring and common millennial couple, but he likes it when Kento says it first and sometimes he doesn’t say it back because that’s who he is, a little bit of meanness is part of the package.

Kento knows his feelings, anyway.

“Are you going to fuck me or should I go jerk off in the bathroom?” Satoru asks, nuzzling against Kento’s neck.

He chuckles and kisses Satoru’s cheek. “Let’s go to the bedroom, love.”

—

Fushiguro Toji was a beast.

He still lives in a dark part of Satoru’s brain, the one person – and that’s sort of an irony in itself, isn’t it? That it was a man, not a curse, who did what he did – to almost kill him. He’s that tiny voice in Satoru’s mind that reminds him that he’s not immortal, that six eyes or not one day he’ll die and it will be a bloody, bloody end.

Just like that day when he was a teenager, when Toji opened him up, hurt him more than anyone else before moving to the girl and Suguru. Just like when Toji left him on the ground, believing to have beaten Satoru for good. Just like on that day, one day someone will come and hurt Satoru and he’ll bleed and bleed and bleed and–

He doesn’t wake up with a jostle against his pillows. Instead, he opens his eyes to the darkness of their bedroom, infinity activated and heart beating faster. Satoru takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling, remembering where he is. Toji is dead, all the things that could kill him are gone or destroyed and there’s no one who could hurt him.

“Satoru.” Kento’s voice is a whisper in the dark. He never touches Satoru on nights like this, both because he can’t and because he knows Satoru would react. That’s the thing with them, they act on instinct. Jujutsu tech is effective on its teachings and no time away can take that from Kento, so he wakes up every time Satoru does, body used to moving before the mind can catch up, maybe sensing the infinity. “Satoru,” he repeats when Satoru doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Satoru doesn’t turn to him. He continues staring at the ceiling, though he can’t see much. “Go back to sleep baby, I just had a nightmare.”

Kento has nightmares too, sometimes. He wakes up panting, drenched in sweat, one hand always already on the ground, where his sword always is, the other reaching for Satoru. They don’t talk much about them, but Satoru can imagine what his nightmares are about, who he always tries to save in them.

“Can I touch you?” Kento asks and Satoru hears the rustling of the sheets. He turns infinity off, takes a deep breath and turns around, his back to Kento. “It’s okay,” Kento whispers against his ear when he pulls Satoru closer, wrapping one arm around his torso. “I’m here.”

Satoru closes his eyes and nods. “Do you ever feel like you’re too happy and you’re not supposed to be like that?” He asks.

“All the time,” Kento kisses the back of his neck, pressing himself closer. “I never thought I’d get this far in life and now I feel like I'm on borrowed time.” He confesses. “That I was not made to have all of this.”

It hurts, but Satoru can understand. Becoming a sorcerer is signing up to misery, preparing to live your life knowing that it won’t end well. He interlocks his fingers with Kento’s and brings their hands up, kissing Kento’s.

“I’m sorry I brought you back to this life.”

“Don’t be.” Kento kisses his back. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you.”

Satoru clutches their joint hands to his heart and keeps them there, anchoring himself to the present. Toji is dead, Satoru killed him, nothing can touch him now. He earned this life, this peace he feels every time he goes to sleep with Kento on his side, knowing that they’ll wake up together and go on with their boring morning routine. He fought and he trained and he lost a piece of himself that day Toji nearly killed him, he lost a piece of himself the day he had to kill his best friend, but he crawled out of that hole and back to where he is now.

He fought and fought and fought just so he could have Kento back and nothing and no one can take that from him.

“I love you,” Satoru whispers to the darkness of the room. “I love you so much, ever since we were teenagers, you’re the only one.”

“I know.” Comes the instant reply. Kento moves and kisses his cheek. “I love you too, Satoru.” They stay like this for a while, Kento’s breathing tickling down his neck, Kento’s body a comforting weight over him. He finally moves back, still close. “Now sleep.”

Satoru thinks of a day, ages ago, when they were like this too, but Kento was the one on his arms, soft and shorter and everything Satoru had ever wanted. “Do you remember the promise we made when we were younger?” He asks.

“I do.”

“You have to keep it, alright?” Satoru squeezes his hand. “You can’t die before me.”

“I won’t.” Kento’s voice is just as serious as it was when he first promised that, over ten years ago. Satoru never once doubted he didn’t mean it. “I promise.”

His confirmation is enough to put Satoru at ease for now. He no longer thinks about Toji or the pain or the blood or what will come – because it will, no amount of wishful thinking will change it. Satoru can feel it in his bones, something is about to happen –, he only thinks about Kento holding him and the promise two dumb teenagers made.

Satoru falls asleep not dreaming of the past, but of the future they’ll build together; he imagines their routine and reading books together and growing older and watching the students grow up and become adults.

He dreams, and for now that’s enough.

—

They’re all at the school when it happens, Satoru sitting on top of one of Shoko’s working tables, legs spread as he tries to make himself tempting. Kento, from where he’s sitting in front of Shoko, a glass in hand, looks at him with what could be contempt, but Satoru knows best.

“I see you two continue the tradition of eye fucking in front of me,” Shoko takes a sip of her drink. Her voice is dry as ever, but there’s no heat to it.

“We can just fuck in front of you if you’re into that, Shoko-chan,” Satoru sing-songs, voice melodic. He likes when Shoko looks about to try to murder him, makes him think of their teenage days.

“We absolutely can not,” Kento drinks his beer and doesn’t bother to look at Satoru. “I’m sorry for him, Shoko-san, he thinks he’s funny.”

“No, I know that I am,” Satoru corrects him and Kento too looks about to try and use his cursed technique on Satoru. He wonders if he should keep pushing more, making Kento annoyed enough to fuck him rough when they get home. Satoru always liked to test the limits of his patience – they were extended now that the two of them are in a relationship, but not much.

Before anyone can reply Yaga stops by the door and Satoru knows something is wrong. He doesn’t look any different, doesn’t look like he’s been running or that he’s distressed, but Satoru can feel it in the way he stands there about to destroy their free time.

“A barrier was lifted in Shibuya,” he says without preamble. “We’re still checking, but apparently it’s only trapping non-sorceres inside.”

“Oh well,” Satoru jumps from the table, stretching his arms. Kento is also already on his feet, glasses back on his face. “Time to get to work, I guess.”

“There’s something else,” Yaga stops them before they can walk to the door. He turns to Satoru and it’s then, at that moment, that Satoru understands that this won’t be an easy job. “The people who are inside the barrier are calling for you, Gojo.”

“Ah,” Satoru doesn’t know what it means yet, but it can’t be good. “So let’s give the people what they want. Lead the way, sensei.”

Yaga looks at him and sighs. “Ieri, you’re coming too,” he gestures for her to follow and Shoko passes by the two of them, squeezing Satoru’s arm before she disappears down the hall.

“This doesn’t sound good,” Kento tells him as they walk side by side. “If they’re asking for you then whoever made the barrier must have a plan.”

“Maybe they’re just a fan. I’m irresistible, you know,” he would wink if it wasn’t for his blindfold, but Kento stops, holding Satoru by the arm. “Are you worried about me, Kento-kun?”

“Always.”

His honesty brings all of Satoru’s defenses down. They stay like this for a moment, looking at each other. It’s strange, that there’s a blindfold and a pair of glasses between them, but Satoru still feels like Kento is staring straight into his eyes. It was always like this with him, the only person to make Satoru feel seen.

“Baby,” he says, one hand holding Kento’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m the strongest, remember?”

Kento presses his lips together as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. Satoru knows that just this brief interruption is already too much for him, he won’t waste their time on anything else.

“You just go out there and protect the kids, right?” Satoru asks. “Leave the rest to me.”

Later – and there will be so much time – he’ll remember this, the way Kento looks at him with so much love and care. Kento doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses Satoru, a press of their lips that makes Satoru remember the chaste kisses they exchanged as teenagers.

“I love you,” Kento tells him before they part ways at the parking lot.

Satoru smiles as he watches Kento enter the car, but before he can leave he leans against the window so no one else can hear it. “Keep your promise, yeah?” He doesn’t kiss Kento because he knows his boyfriend hates any sort of sentimentalism in public, but he reaches his hand and Kento holds it.

“I will.” Kento squeezes his hand and Satoru watches him leave, heart heavy.

He always knew that would be their lives – there’s no going back from being a sorcerer, Kento is living proof of it. Still, Satoru knows the risks, knows that whatever waits for them in Shibuya can be the end of the line for any of them.

As long as Kento keeps his promise, Satoru thinks, then it will be fine.

He wonders what the rest of the Gojo clan would say if they saw him like this: ready to accept death if it meant his love would live. They’d call him weak, for sure. They’d blame themselves for not disciplining him enough.

As he approaches the barrier Satoru wonders where Kento is, who he is fighting with, if he’s fine, if he’s– no, Kento is a man of his word, he wouldn’t die and leave Satoru alone. So Satoru closes his eyes for a moment, clears his mind and focuses on the task at hand; he’ll kill whatever curse is causing this with as little casualties as possible and he’ll win because that’s what he does.

He’s the honored one, after all.

—

When Satoru was a child he was told he would always be alone. There’s no one like you in the entire world, the adults used to tell him, attaching yourself to others will only result in disappointment and heartbreak.

Still, at the age of 15 Satoru decided he would study at jujutsu tech. He didn’t need it, not really, but he was a boy and he wanted to be around other teenagers. Adults prepared him for a life of fight and solitude, but they were wrong, because Satoru made friends and against all odds he found someone just like him: Geto Suguru.

Those are his eyes that look at Satoru in that subway station. That is his cursed energy, one Satoru would recognize anywhere, one that he extinguished from this world. It’s his best friend, from his long hair to his clothes, but it’s not him, Satoru knows.

I killed you, he thinks, staring at the person in front of him. The only best friend I ever had and I killed you.

“You didn’t have Ieri Shoko dispose of Geto Suguru’s body, did you?” The sorcerer tells him, voice mocking. “Thank you for that, Gojo.”

Other people are liabilities, Satoru was taught. You were born to fight alone, to be alone. And yet he had trusted Suguru with everything in him, he had loved Suguru, had been ready to forgive Suguru for the most unspeakable crimes if only his friend showed the smallest indication of regretting his actions.

Satoru looks at the body of his best friend, of the person he killed, and thinks about all the others who depend on him. Megumi, Yuuji, Nobara, Shoko.

Kento.

Before, his mind had been focused on the fight – the curses were smarter this time, they must have studied every aspect about Satoru and his techniques. But now, as he stays immobilized and powerless for the first time in his life, as he looks at his best friend, Satoru thinks about Kento, who he disappointed.

You’re keeping your promise, aren’t you? He thinks as he looks at Suguru’s body. You’ll come for me, I know.

Suguru’s body looks at him and it’s nothing like his best friend would, not even after he abandoned school. He smiles, happy and cruel, and Satoru wants to kill him again, whoever that is.

“Goodbye, Gojo Satoru,” he says, voice cheerful. “See you in the new world.”

And everything turns black.

—

Satoru moves in around the one month mark.

There’s no need to wait more, anyway, not when it comes to them. They’ve known each other for years, have waited for this for over ten years, there’s no need to be coy about it. Satoru supposes that most people would wait anyway, they both have changed in the years Kento wasn’t around and in the years they pretended they weren’t in a relationship. But most people are not jujutsu sorcerers.

Kento’s apartment is way smaller than the Gojo estate, but it’s home. He makes a space for Satoru in his wardrobe and shoe rack. The image of his uniform lined up with Kento’s suits makes Satoru smile so much he feels his cheeks hurting. The bathroom now has two sets of toiletries and the kitchen has more candies than it probably ever had. The otherwise spotless living room has a mess of receipts, coupons, books left over the coffee table, the proof of Satoru’s presence.

Kento likes to cook because he’s a functioning adult, unlike Satoru who is – and that is a definition Shoko loves – a man child, so every day when Satoru arrives he’s at the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” he says one day, wrapping his arms around Kento’s waist and kissing his neck. Kento, who had been cutting vegetables, stops. “Did you miss me?”

“We saw each other four hours ago, Satoru,” Kento doesn’t make any motion to shoo him away and Satoru smiles. It’s not exactly a honeymoon phase – that was a lifetime ago, when they were teenagers – but it’s a new version of him, a more agreeable Nanami Kento.

“I didn’t know it had been four hours. You counted them,” Satoru lets go of him, but only because he’s hungry. He leans against the counter as he watches Kento going back to his task. “You did miss me.”

“So what if I did?” Kento asks in the same dry voice he uses at work. Maybe, had Satoru been anyone else, it would have sounded dismissive, but he knows this man better than anyone else. “I saw Itadori-kun today. He seemed fine.” His tone is always clipped when he talks about Yuuji, but Satoru understands.

“He’s doing well, he’s a good kid,” Satoru undoes his blindfold and puts it aside for a moment. Sometimes Satoru wishes they didn’t have to talk about work at home, that they could be like people with normal jobs who can forget for a few hours. But Kento seems fond of the kid and Satoru knows why. “You know, sometimes I look at him and I think about Riko.”

The name still sounds bitter when he says it, almost like a curse. She doesn’t deserve that, the girl, but her name reminds Satoru of Suguru and when everything started ending and Toji and–

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Kento is now looking at him. He’s not wearing glasses and Satoru stares at his eyes, the same cold eyes he fell for when he was a teenager.

“It’s fine,” Satoru gestures vaguely with his hand. “It was a long time ago, anyway.” Ten years, give it or take. Satoru had hoped that time would heal this wound, but it still hurts the same. “Teenagers should be given choices. Her, Yuuji, me–” he stops and sighs. “I think that’s why I hated you for a while, you know?” He stares at Kento, knowing that it’s something that can’t be said without eye contact. “Because you were brave enough to create a choice. And you were so young when you did it too.”

Kento doesn’t look surprised by his statement. He hums. “It came from a place of hurt, not bravery,” his voice is soft now in a way he saves for Satoru. “It didn’t really matter in the end, did it? I’m back now.” He doesn’t sound bitter, but still, Satoru looks at him, searching for any sign of a lie. He doesn’t know if not finding it makes him feel better or worse.

“Because I dragged you back.”

“No, because I decided to return,” his voice is still soft, but it’s serious now. “I love you Satoru, but love alone wouldn’t bring me back.” It’s a harsh statement, but Satoru knows it’s the truth. Kento loves him, but he would never be sentimental enough to go back to a world he renounced just because of it. “I can’t live my life knowing I could help people and I didn’t, so don’t blame yourself for whatever happens to me.”

“I–”

“I know you,” Kento smiles at that, and Satoru is once again left speechless. “I know you’re already blaming yourself for many things. The star plasma vessel, Fushiguro and his father, Itadori-kun. Don’t go around blaming yourself for something that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“And won’t happen,” Satoru says, stressing the word with far too much conviction for someone who has seen all the death he has. “Because you’re a grade one sorcerer and you’re great at it, so you won’t get hurt.”

“Exactly,” Kento goes back to his task. “Have more faith in me.”

Satoru hugs him from behind again, resting his forehead on the back of Kento’s neck. “Kento-kun, you’re the only person in this world I have faith in,” he says and hugs Kento tighter.

“Great,” he waits for a moment before continuing. “Now let me cook or we won’t have dinner tonight. Go make yourself useful and wash those dishes,” he mentions towards the dishes inside the sink.

“I love it when you’re bossy like this,” Satoru kisses his neck before letting go, not missing the way Kento smirks.

It’s not the honeymoon phase, but a new one.

—

The first thing in his mind is not the people he knows. Megumi, Yuuji, Kento or Yuta, wherever he is – they’ll be fine.

Satoru thinks about all the people who died in Shibuya.

It’s not the type of thought anyone would expect of him and one he only allows himself because of his current condition. Gojo Satoru knows that sacrifices will always have to happen, and most often than not that means people who don’t know of the curses in the world, but still. He thinks about all the people who didn’t even know what was happening, who couldn’t see him fighting the curses, all the people who will die now that he’s trapped.

He thinks about Suguru and wonders if there’s a part of him still alive inside that body. His brain was replaced, but maybe his soul–

Satoru stops himself before he can think more about it. Suguru is dead, he was dead the moment he decided to walk away from the school, nothing can bring him back. Whenever Satoru leaves that prison – because he will, he knows he will – he will have to kill his best friend’s body again, and this time make sure it will be the last.

—

“On overtime again?” Satoru asks when Kento arrives. One look at him shows that he wasn’t working, he’s too put together and overtime would mean a lot more effort for him.

“Was having dinner with Ino,” Kento takes off his blazer, folds it and puts it over the couch arm, movements always slow. Satoru looks over from his phone to watch it, knowing the ritual by heart by now: how Kento then takes off his glasses and his sword, leaving both over the coffee table. Then, he takes off his tie, opens up the first buttons and the cuffs of his shirt.

“Ino,” Satoru says the name with bitterness, but not in the same way he would say Suguru’s or Haibara’s. “What did he want that you couldn’t discuss at school?” He asks, eyes back on his phone, voice casual, or as casual as he can fake now.

Satoru doesn’t see it, but he knows Kento is sighing in the kitchen. He comes back, nudges Satoru’s legs out of the way and sits on the couch. Satoru makes a point out of placing his feet on his lap, heels digging on the muscles of his thighs.

“Satoru, are you jealous?” Kento sounds amused. “Of Ino, out of all people?”

He could pretend he isn’t, but there’s no point, not with Kento. So instead Satoru looks over at him. “He’s obsessed with you.”

“He’s not obsessed with me, he admires my work, it’s different. You would know what it feels like if you didn’t look down on everyone.” Kento has this way of hitting him with the most brutal truths in a way that almost sounds sweet, like he finds even Satoru’s ugliest flaws adorable. Satoru wonders what is his limit, when will Kento finally realize that his redeeming qualities are not all that good, all things considered.

And when he hits that limit, what will Satoru do to make sure he doesn’t leave?

“He has a crush on you,” Satoru says, petulant like a child. “I don’t blame him, though. I too would have a crush on you if I were younger and impressionable.”

“You did have a crush on me when you were younger,” Kento taps his leg. He’s not drunk, but any alcohol always makes him a bit happier, a bit more propense on letting loose when it’s just the two of them. Satoru notices he doesn’t deny the boy’s crush. “We were talking about his assessment.”

“And of course, out of all the sorcerers around, he just had to talk to you.”

“You are jealous,” Kento offers him one of those almost smiles, even more amused now. “You think I’d be interested in some kid when I’ve been in love with you for most of my life?”

They stare at each other and Satoru feels his chest ache with love, yes, but also with something else, ugglier. It’s not enough that Kento loves him, not after all the time they spent apart, he needs more – what that is, he doesn’t know.

He pushes the feeling away and smiles at Kento. “I trust you, I don’t trust others to know their places.”

“And where exactly is that, Satoru?”

Satoru sits up, moving until he’s kneeling next to Kento. “Nowhere near you,” he kisses Kento’s cheek in what should be a sweet gesture, but he knows reeks of possessiveness. “You’re mine, Kento-kun.”

Kento only chuckles before turning his head to kiss Satoru on the mouth. His kiss is possessive too, strong in a way that shows he knows how much power he has over Satoru. He could ask for the world and Satoru would give it to him on a silver platter.

“You’ve always been such a spoiled brat,” he speaks against Satoru’s lips when they break the kiss, holding Satoru in place with fingers on his chin. “Thinking you can just take everything you want for the virtue of who you are.”

Satoru smiles, though nothing about the motion is happy. Sometimes, when Kento holds him like this, when Kento is even a tiny bit mean, Satoru feels himself on the verge of turning maniac, ready to devour that attitude. Or maybe let Kento devour him instead, whatever it takes so they never leave each other’s sides.

“And who is going to stop me?” He asks, just because he can.

They look at each other again and Kento kisses him one more time, sweeter and slower this time. Instead of answering Satoru’s question Kento gets up. “I’ll take a shower,” he says, already walking away from the living room. “You go to the bedroom and get yourself ready,” he turns around, glancing at Satoru. “I think it’s time I teach you who you belong to.”

Kento doesn’t bother looking at him again, knowing Satoru wouldn’t even dream of saying no. Still, Satoru remains seated until he hears the bathroom door shut. He looks down at his hands, trembling in excitement, before he too gets up and leaves to the bedroom.

Later, when Kento is finally done with him and they’re cuddling, Satoru hides his face on the crook of his neck and whispers: “I love you, you know.”

Kento kisses the top of his head. “I know. I love you too.”

It’s all he needs to hear.

—

Time is the biggest problem. Satoru knew from the first moment he was sealed that time wouldn’t pass the same as in the real world, but it’s still suffocating. There’s no before and no after, only an endless now where Satoru, or his consciousness, floats.

It could have been a minute since Suguru locked him there, or maybe ten, or maybe a year, or maybe ten, or maybe a thousand.

He tries not to think about it, about how one day he could get out and all the people he knows would be dead. Megumi, Yuuji, Shoko, Kento, all long, long gone, all traces of their existence gone.

And if he leaves and everyone is gone, then what will he do? What’s the point of living if he’s alone? His clan always taught Satoru that he would be alone in the end, that no one could come closer to him and his power. And yet life taught him otherwise; there’s people he cares about now, there’s people he wants to see. There’s people who won’t give up on him, he knows.

He just hopes their efforts will be enough.

—

If Satoru truly thinks about it, his world is really small.

He’s the most powerful person on the planet, but his influence doesn’t go much farther than the school grounds. The higher ups hate him, the other clans fear him, even the Gojo family has their own reservations about the person he became. Only in the school, in front of a bunch of teenagers, is Satoru seen with any resemblance of respect.

It’s not so bad, not really. He does like his students, and enjoys watching them grow as sorcerers and people. No, it’s the memories that eat him away. The places where they used to sit and bask in the sun, Satoru eating some candy, Shoko sneaking a cigarette, Suguru laughing at their vices. The corners to where he used to drag Kento, pressing him against the walls while they made out.

“Feeling nostalgic?” Kento asks when he sits besides Satoru. He is not wearing his blazer, but his sword is still strapped on his back.

“Is it really happening?” Satoru ignores the question. “Are you skipping work?”

“I’m on my lunch break,” Kento takes off his glasses and hooks them on the pocket of his shirt. There’s something about seeing him like this, relaxed and happy, that tugs on Satoru’s heartstrings. “We broke up here.”

Satoru wasn’t thinking about it when he walked there, but now the memory makes him close his eyes. Kento had looked so determined that day, so sure of what he wanted for his future, of what he didn’t want for it.

“I think you mean you broke up with me here,” Satoru corrects, though there’s no real heat on his voice. He can understand why Kento did it. “Do you know how many people would kill for a chance of dating me? And you just threw it all away, Nanamin,” he pouts as he looks at Kento, though the effect would be better if he wasn’t wearing his blindfold.

“Not as many as you think,” Kento looks as unimpressed as ever. “I regretted it as soon as I walked away, but I think that was something we both needed.”

Satoru wants to disagree, but he knows, deep down, that it’s the truth. They were too young back then, too hurt from their losses, full of grief. What they needed was time to heal, not each other. It’s difficult to admit that there was a moment in his life when Nanami Kento wasn’t what he needed the most, but Satoru is an adult now, he can look back and understand the situation better.

“Doesn’t mean it hurt any less,” Satoru says, looking down at his own lap.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kento offers his hand and Satoru doesn’t think twice before accepting it, lacing their fingers together. They stay in silence for a while, looking at the field in front of them. “I’m happy you accepted me back.”

Satoru chuckles. “Oh, shut up. You know I will never love anyone else.”

“Do I?” Kento asks, teasing. “It’s the same for me,” he adds.

It’s almost like when they were teenagers, the sweetness of the moment. Satoru thinks about the boys they were, so young and yet already so hurt, so full of sadness. That didn’t really change – if anything, it got worse – but they know how to deal with their feelings better now. If back then the idea of loving Kento, of being with him forever meant not being lonely, now it means companion, someone who accepts Satoru for who he is.

“I can’t believe we’re not even thirty and we’re acting like we’re seventy or something,” Satoru brings himself closer to Kento, leaning his head on his shoulder. He knows Kento will complain about it later, always talking about separating work and personal life, but Satoru knows he can get away with it. “Let’s just stop talking about the past. It doesn’t matter, it’s done.”

Kento snorts, but doesn’t say anything. Satoru knows what he’s thinking, that it’s impossible for them to let go of the past. Doing so would mean letting go of Suguru, Haibara and everything they meant and neither Kento nor Satoru will ever do it. Being a jujutsu sorcerer means you’re always going back to the past at some point.

After some time Kento gets up. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”

Satoru makes a show of holding his hand again. “Are you asking me on a date, Nanamin?” He asks, smiling. “Are you trying to atone for your past sin of breaking up with me?”

“No, but I will break up with you again if you continue to act like this.” He doesn’t let go of Satoru’s hand when they start walking and Satoru counts it as a win.

“Nah, you won’t. You love me too much to let me go,” Satoru sings songs as they walk. It almost feels like their teen years, but better.

Kento doesn’t say anything, but when he looks at Satoru and smiles – an act so simple for many, but that is so rare when it comes to Kento – it’s not like Satoru needs any other confirmation.

—

Everything is black, and then it isn’t.

It would be difficult to explain the prison realm. Satoru doesn’t feel anywhere physically. Instead, he feels like a stream of consciousness; he has a body and he can see the skeletons – previous prisoners? – but it still doesn’t feel like being anywhere. He wonders if now that he’s there no one else can enter it and is happy that whoever is using Suguru’s body can’t come in to torment him even more.

Satoru would crumble, then. Whoever that is, he would use information against him, would use the people he knows against him. He imagines himself letting it slip that he’s worried about Kento and that being used to hurt him, or worse, hurting Kento.

He’s still thinking about it when there’s a crack, like pressure being relieved, and then there’s light.

“Sensei!” Someone screams and Satoru recognizes the voice, but he’s so weak he can’t reply. “Sensei?”

“Give him some space,” someone else says and Satoru turns to the side. Fushiguro Toji’s eyes are staring at him, serious as ever.

“Megumi,” he whispers, sitting up. It’s day and the air is cold, but the sun is warm on the skin of his face and Satoru takes a deep breath.

There are four boys staring at him: Megumi, Yuuji, Yuta and Hakari, looking different from the last time they saw each other, but Satoru would recognize him anywhere. A teacher knows his students. There’s a girl too, light eyes looking at him with caution.

Satoru feels his cursed energy again, turns infinity on just to make sure it’s still there. Good, now no one can hurt me, he thinks as he looks at the girl. Then he turns to his students: they all look exhausted, their eyes sullen and maybe even maniac in Hakari’s case, but they are alive. Not that Satoru ever doubted it, they are the strongest he ever trained.

“Where is he?” He asks. “The sorcerer who locked me inside that thing, where is he?”

“Sendai,” Yuta replies. As expected from him, he seems to be the most put together of their little group.

Satoru stretches a little, feels his body becoming strong again. It’s a slow, but gradual process. One moment he’s a prisoner and minutes later he’s Gojo Satoru again. “You kids did well,” he tells them. Before any of them can complain he continues: “We’ll talk later. Leave this one for me.”

It’s time to kill his best friend again.

—

There’s no hesitation this time because this is not Suguru.

Whatever this is, it’s a disrespect to the person Suguru was. He had lost his way, yes, but he would never hurt sorcerers, he would never–

Well, it doesn’t matter what Suguru would and wouldn’t do, he’s gone. So Satoru doesn’t hold back when he finds the imposter. The surprise element is on his side this time, but mostly, Satoru has a certainty he didn’t have before, that there’s no other choice but to eliminate that body, not leave a single trace of it behind.

Satoru doesn’t know how much time has passed since his imprisonment – it can’t be much, the kids all look roughly the same age he remembers them – but he wonders if the emptiness of the streets have anything to do with Shibuya. The world turned on its axis that night and whatever the fallout was, Satoru will have to catch up later.

They look at each other and Satoru undoes his blindfold. “I’m here,” he says, smiling wide. “Show me the new world.”

He smiles because he’s alone, still. Without any other people around that means Satoru doesn’t have to worry about collateral damage. It doesn't matter how long has passed since he was locked, Satoru was mentally preparing himself for this moment.

It’s the first time in a long, long time that he doesn’t have to hold back.

—

It goes the way all his fights go: he wins.

Back when he was a teenager Satoru liked to count his victories, rank his fights into different difficult levels, trying to find a meaning for all of the chaos. Now, as he looks at the remains of his best friend for the second time in his life he feels nothing but emptiness.

It was funny, one day. He imagines his younger self, turning to Suguru with a bright smile and saying I killed three more, you owe me lunch. And they would laugh and play around until it was time to return to school.

Now Satoru feels tired, sitting on the sidewalk of an empty city. He wonders where all the people went to, if they were killed or rescued. He doesn’t really care, but it’s not like he wishes for them to be dead. His mind is fuzzy now that the fight is over and all that’s left are debris and silence; trying to readjust to reality is no easy feat.

He thinks about the students he left back in Tokyo, thinks about all the others he didn’t see around. Are they alive somewhere or will their deaths end up on his tally too? Will he have to explain himself to their families?

His mind keeps bouncing from subject to subject – Suguru’s second death, his students, how much time passed, what happened, how things are, where are all the people – because he doesn’t want to think about one particular thing. He left in a hurry because defeating the sorcerer was more important, his brain was focused on it. But now that he’s alone his mind wants to return to one thing, one person.

He will have to return to Tokyo now. He will have to return home and ask the sorcerers left about what happened. Then, he will have to brace himself and ask the one question he doesn’t want to.

Did you keep your promise? Satoru thinks as he looks at the gray sky.

Maybe he can buy himself some time by going back by train, if they are still running. He feels tired and could use some rest. Teleporting takes time and energy and–

“Satoru,” a voice calls behind him and Satoru would recognize it anywhere. However long he spent trapped, he dreamed of hearing it again.

Relief washes over him and Satoru turns around to look at Kento. His eyes go wide and his heart starts racing. It’s still the same Kento he remembers, but his left side is burnt. His hair is shorter and his skin is reddish and he wears an eyepatch over his left eye.

There’s other people down the street too, keeping their distance. Other sorcerers, most likely Kento’s support, but Satoru barely registers them. He runs to Kento, stopping in front of him.

Kento’s appearance is not the only different thing about him. He looks even more exhausted than the kids, his one eye almost dim and lifeless, his face with expression lines that Satoru doesn’t remember being there before. Out of all the people he has seen so far Kento seems to be the one who aged the most.

“He’s dead,” Satoru says because he can’t say anything else. “I ended it.”

Kento looks around at the destruction of the city. When they look at each other again Satoru shivers. It’s almost like those days when Kento worked as a salaryman and they pretended they didn’t know each other. Kento looks at him, but there’s almost no emotion there.

“Just like when Yu died,” Kento says. His voice is cold too, different from the loving tone he always used before. “We should always just leave everything to you.”

The bitterness is new too, a callback to a time when things started to end between them. Satoru feels his heart beat faster at the implications – whatever happened in the time he was locked affected Kento in ways more than physical.

“I–” he starts, raises his hand to touch Kento, lowers it again.

“We can talk later,” he says and his voice almost sounds like his old self. “We have a lot to tell you.” Tiredness oozes from Kento’s every word, but he still gestures towards a car waiting at the end of the street. “You must be tired, you can sleep on the way back to Tokyo.”

As if his words are magic, Satoru feels the weight of what he just did on his shoulders. The time he spent locked up inside the prison realm, going out and instantly using his cursed energy, the fight.

(Suguru’s lifeless eyes staring at him a second time.)

“Will you come with me?” Satoru asks, feeling small and weak.

Kento nods. “Of course.”

It’s not Ijichi who is driving the car, but another assistant and Satoru almost asks about him, but once again he fears the answer. He and Kento sit on opposite ends of the car, but when Satoru reaches for his hand Kento takes it, lacing their fingers. It’s the first touch Satoru feels ever since they left for Shibuya station and the first sign of affection Kento has given him since they met.

It makes Satoru believe that whatever was broken in the time he was away can be repaired.

—

The word exiled almost makes Satoru laugh when they tell him. Accomplice, though, does the trick. He never expected anything different from those old bastards, but to call him an accomplice, to try to execute Yuuji, to kill Yaga, those are things he will never forget. Not that there’s much Satoru can do, anyway, the kids did most of the work.

It paid well, to have their trust. He may not have built the most healthy relationships with them, but when he looks at his students he feels proud of them and himself for knowing that they would be the ones to change the jujutsu world, not him. Suguru would laugh at him, he thinks, of the manipulation he pulled over the years to have his little army, but Suguru can’t laugh anymore, can he?

Somehow, even if Satoru doesn’t know everything yet, it feels as if his best friend cost him way more than just two months of his life.

There are new people with them, too. A guy dressed in a suit that looks at Satoru with unimpressed eyes and a girl with long hair that seems to follow Megumi around despite him giving her the cold shoulder.

They all look different, hardened by life and whatever they had to do in those games. Kugisaki and Maki both seem to gravitate around Kento and when Satoru looks at them Kugisaki raises an eyebrow. “Don’t we look cute, sensei?” she asks, gesturing between the three of them. “We’ll buy a glass eye and pass around like Disney characters.”

“You look adorable,” he tells her, voice sharp and teasing like before.

Kento looks impassive and Maki looks like–

No, Satoru tells himself. Enough about the past. Maybe, if he had been able to let it go they wouldn’t be there now. All the death, all the missing limbs and scars and marks, they all exist because Satoru couldn’t say goodbye to one person.

“I guess we have a lot of work to do,” Satoru says because he knows the world won’t stop and wait around until he has gotten his shit together. He’ll push through, he’ll do what he has to do and then, then he’ll try to save whatever is left of his life.

—

It’s not easy to rebuild the world.

There’s still so much to do, so many curses and curse users to fight. And there’s Sukuna, Satoru knows. They’ll have to deal with him eventually and he dreads the day, wonders if he will have to watch one more teenager die, if Megumi will ever forgive him if he kills Yuuji to end Sukuna. If Kento will too.

They don’t talk like before, but Satoru blames the work. There’s no time for lovers’ reunion, no time to know what happened, to know how hurt Kento is. Satoru doesn’t go back home and neither does Kento. Still, they feel like strangers. He hears the story from Yuuji, how Jogo burned Naobito, Maki and Kento. And Kento, brave and obstinate as he is, still walked through the station trying to protect others. Only a miracle made Yuuji arrive fast enough to save him from the special grade curse.

“Yuuji-kun,” Satoru calls before the boy can leave the room they are in. He’s looking outside the window, at the training grounds, Yuuji by the door. “I–”

“Please, don’t thank me, sensei,” Yuuji interrupts. “I didn’t do anything. I’m a killer.”

We both are, Satoru wants to tell him, but there’s no comparison, is there? Yuuji is a kid with a curse trapped inside his body. He may blame himself for everything Sukuna does, but it’s not his fault, not really. Satoru, on the other hand, sacrificed people during his fights. Satoru killed his best friend twice.

So Satoru doesn’t say he’s wrong, and doesn't thank him either. Instead, he says: “I’m proud of you.”

He hears Yuuji hum and leave, but doesn’t look away from the window. Outside, the school looks almost normal. If he closes his eyes he can go back to when he first started teaching. It’s as far as he will go in his memory now, as far as he will allow himself.

Someone enters the room, but Satoru doesn’t look. People always look for him now, waiting for him to be a leader, to tell them what to do. There’s nothing Satoru ever wanted less.

“We should go home today,” a voice calls behind him and Satoru finally turns to look at Kento. He’s by the door, leaning against the frame.

“Am I still welcomed?” Maybe, before, this would be a joke. Satoru would say it with a smirk because he knew Kento always felt slightly annoyed at his endless teasing. Now it’s a legit question because Satoru doesn’t know anything anymore.

Kento studies him and he doesn’t smile, but something in his expression softens. “Always,” he says, voice a bit warmer, and Satoru trembles.

“Then let’s go home tonight,” Satoru doesn’t smile as he would before, but he feels lighter, almost, almost happy. They can fix this, whatever this is, and they can go back to the way things were before.

He never wanted anything more.

—

The apartment is just the way he remembers, like it too was sealed away from the passage of time. It’s clean, but it looks recent, and it still smells like it was closed for too long. Still, it’s his home, and when Satoru sits down on the couch he closes his eyes and allows himself to relax for the first time in a week.

“It’s the first time I come back too,” Kento says as he walks around. It’s a deja-vu, to watch him take off his suit and tie, open the first buttons of his shirt and disappear into the kitchen. When he returns he has a glass of water for Satoru and one for himself. “I was too busy with, well,” he gestures vaguely, “everything.”

He sits on the couch with Satoru, but not close enough. It’s almost as if he doesn’t feel at ease there, as if he fears he’ll have to get up and leave at any moment.

They drink their waters in silence and Satoru feels the air heavy between them. The tension is so oppressive he almost wants to run away, to say he’ll be at the school, leave and maybe never come back.

“You know,” Kento says, not looking at him. “It’s funny how I always laughed at those silly romance novels you bought for us to read. Do you remember?” There’s something in his voice, something that Satoru can’t name, but that breaks his heart. He nods, unsure of where this is going, and Kento continues. “Because I always thought they were too far-fetched,” he chuckles bitterly, a sound that echoes through Satoru’s mind. “But they are not, you know?”

“Kento–”

“That special grade burned me to the point I thought I was going to pass out,” he ignores Satoru and continues. “But I didn’t because I thought of you, Satoru.” Only then he turns to look at Satoru, expression serious. “I thought about the promise I made you and I knew I had to keep it. I was almost dead and all I could think was how disappointed you’d be when you heard about my death.”

Satoru undoes his blindfold, feeling the tears prickling his eyes. He didn’t show any emotion through all the stories he heard, looking at all the teenagers scarred for life in front of him, hearing about all the people who died. Not even killing his best friend again was enough to make him express anything.

But this, this is different. Kento has always been the exception.

“Those silly romance novels were right, Satoru. When you love someone you’d do anything to be with them,” Kento doesn’t look away from him and Satoru can finally see the emotion in his expression too. “Even if you end up like this.”

It doesn’t sound like it should. If anything it sounds like a death sentence, a I could finally be resting, but here I am, because of you. Now, as Satoru looks at the man he loves, he understands that they didn’t make a promise all those years ago, they made a binding vow.

“You truly are a man of your word, Nanami Kento.” Satoru’s voice trembles and when he blinks he can feel the tears down his cheeks. Still, he doesn’t look away from Kento.

In a way, it feels like when they were teenagers, when Suguru left and Haibara died and the two of them stayed together, but not quite. Those in between days were all bitter without any sweetness, full of Kento looking at him the way he does now: with contempt.

Unlike at that time, though, both of them know they don’t have any other option but each other. Kento can’t leave again and Satoru won’t let him. He had too much pride as a teenager to ask Kento to stay, but now he’s mature enough to put it all aside if need be.

There’s a question Satoru doesn’t want to ask, but he does it anyway because it’s what he, they, need right now.

“Do you hate me?” He asks, trying to keep himself from being torn apart.

Kento looks away for a moment. When he looks back, however, there’s no doubt about what his answer will be.

“Right now?” Even his voice is tense, as if he’s one second away from yelling. “Yes.”

Satoru was never delusional. He knew himself as unlikeable and always knew about how much others hated him. The Gojo clan, the higher ups, Gakuganji above all others. Hate never bothered him, until now. Now he understands the dread setting in his chest.

“Then what now?” Satoru asks, at loss. He gets up, unsure if he should give Kento his space or just leave once for all.

Kento holds him by his wrist, pinning him in place. His fingers are cold and Satoru knows it’s because he’s nervous. “Stay. Don’t leave, if that’s what you’re thinking about doing.”

“You hate me, why would you want me around?”

There’s vulnerability in Kento’s voice when he speaks: “Because I may hate you now, but I will never stop loving you,” he gets up as well, pulling Satoru into a hug. It’s the first time they’ve hugged since Satoru came back and when Kento traps him into his arms Satoru relaxes, hugging him back.

He wraps his arms around Kento’s body, hides his face on the curve of his neck. The burnt skin feels leathery to the touch, but Satoru barely registers the difference. He clings to the back of Kento’s shirt, afraid that he’ll change his mind and push him away.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers against Kento’s skin. “I’m so, so sorry.” He tries to remember any other time when he apologized to someone, but his mind returns nothing. Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, never apologized because he never did anything wrong.

Yet, now, Satoru feels as if he has made every single mistake on Earth. He has committed every sin and no atonement will ever make them go away.

“I’ll never stop apologizing and it will never be enough,” he doesn’t let go of Kento, he can’t. Only now Satoru realizes how much he missed any physical touch, but mostly this, Kento holding him as if he’s precious. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

“Yes,” Kento replies right away. He pushes Satoru away gently just enough so they can look at each other. “Not now, but I will.” He’s sure of it, Satoru can tell by the inflection of his voice and his serious expression. Kento never says things he doesn’t mean, never lies or sugar coats anything.

Satoru fears how long it will take for it to happen. Still, he knows he will wait for as long as he needs to.

He takes the opportunity to look at Kento from up close. The burn scars don’t reach most of his face, but they still touch his cheek and ear. Kento stays still when Satoru touches his scarred cheek, thumb brushing against the skin lightly, pressing close to the eyepatch.

“Shoko-san was able to recover most of my hearing,” Kento says. “It’s sixty percent now, it’s not bad. But the eye is gone.”

“Can I see it?” Satoru asks, voice a whisper.

Kento nods and moves his hands to take off the eyepatch. His new eye is almost the same color of his natural one, just a bit darker. Satoru thinks most people wouldn’t even notice the difference between them, but he does because he knows everything about Kento and has memorized every detail about him.

“I’m still getting used to it, hence this,” Kento raises the eyepatch with a hand. He sounds… not bitter or sad, but resigned. He always had that about him, how he accepts tragedies with more grace than anyone ever should.

Satoru wants to kiss him, but doesn’t know if he would be allowed to, so he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes his fingers through Kento’s hair, feeling the subtle change of texture where the fire touched his scalp. Kento closes his eyes, leaning into the touch and Satoru smiles.

Then, Kento leans forward and kisses his cheek, nuzzles against the curve of his neck. “I knew you would come back,” he whispers, arms wrapping against Satoru again. “I knew you’d never leave me this easily.”

It’s not said with the same fondness as before, but it’s fine, Satoru doesn’t feel like he deserves any of it now, anyway.

“I’m happy to be back,” Satoru says, swallowing the lump on his throat. “I’m happy to be with you.”

“Me too.” Kento’s reply comes as easy as it would before, and it’s a relief beyond anything else Satoru has ever felt.

Whatever is this feeling in between them now, he can work with it.

—

Being back home almost feels like being on a movie set. Satoru recognizes every corner of the apartment, but something about the stilled way Kento and him go on with their days doesn’t seem right. They still sleep on the same bed – or Satoru thinks they do, Kento is never there when he goes to sleep or when he wakes up, the only evidence of his presence being the messy sheets.

They have never been like that, not even when they were teenagers. The awkwardness that surrounds their time together is something Satoru wasn’t prepared for. All the time he stayed locked inside that thing he thought about Kento, remembered their time together as a way to not go crazy. And now all feels broken and irreparable, but Satoru can’t let go, not after everything he’s already sacrificed.

Altruism is not something anyone ever bothered to teach him and now Satoru feels too old to learn.

Sometimes he finds Kento sitting on the couch, reading. Kento raises his head and looks at him for a moment, but it feels distant, as if Satoru is some random person. He barely acknowledges Satoru before going back to his book, disappearing into whatever world he’s reading about. He doesn’t ask if Satoru wants him to read it aloud and Satoru doesn’t ask him to. Instead he walks into the apartment, infinity still on.

It’s another thing that has changed between them, or rather, between Satoru and the world. He keeps infinity on all the time, even if it wasn’t any help when he was captured. It’s less about its practical use and more about placing a barrier between himself and everyone else. If no one can touch him then no one can hurt him, just as things should have been since the beginning.

Gojo Satoru was born to be alone, it was foolish of him to want to change it.

—

Kento drinks. A lot.

It’s not something that ever bothered Satoru – if anything he always envied people who could allow themselves to lose control –, but there’s something about his drinking habits that are not normal. Well, they are not like Satoru remembers, but so many things happened in the two months he’s been away he can’t exactly blame Kento for wanting to forget everything.

Still, he comes back home reeking of alcohol, movements somewhat lethargic, but not clumsy. It’s a thing that Satoru always liked about him, that he could hold his liquor, but he would still show more bits and pieces of his personality after a few shots. Now there’s nothing of it, though. Instead, he walks through the apartment as if in a daze, losing pieces of clothing along the way until he can flop on the bed and sleep.

Most times, however, he doesn’t take off his shirt, not entirely. He opens the first buttons after taking off his tie, opens the cuffs and that’s it. It’s not something that’s lost on Satoru, how even drunk Kento still refuses to show himself. He heard from Shoko about the extension of Kento’s injuries, and knows that the curse only burnt his torso and arm, but he has yet to see most of the damage.

And Kento knows Satoru watches him, knows Satoru’s eyes follow him along when he arrives home. He never acknowledges Satoru, but knows of his presence. They are jujutsu sorcerers after all, being aware of their surroundings is the first thing they learn about the job. At this point, for people like them, it’s almost instinct, so it hurts even more that Kento makes it a point of not even looking in his direction.

Satoru doesn’t say anything, only follows Kento to the bedroom to make sure he’s not sleeping in an uncomfortable position or if he needs anything. He’s not sure he would have the courage to touch Kento if he was uncomfortable, doesn’t know what would be the reaction to that.

He stays at the bedroom door, leaning against it and watching as Kento sleeps. He’s on his belly, face turned away from the door, shirt open and flopping to the side. A bit of it slid down his shoulder when he fell on the bed and Satoru can see the scarred tissue, red and angry. Satoru wonders how it would feel under his fingertips, how it would be to kiss it, worship every inch of that skin.

He wonders if one day he’ll have the chance to do it.

“It’s okay,” Satoru whispers to the silent room. “I’ll wait for you.”

After he leaves Satoru pretends he doesn’t see the way Kento shifts on the bed.

—

Satoru does his best to never be home for too long. If before he would run away from his responsibilities just so he could go back to the apartment now he takes more work than anyone else. It’s to show he cares, in his own way, about the consequences of what he did. It’s not like he didn’t imagine a future as bleak as this, but all these years have shown Satoru that people don’t like his lack of empathy. Right now it’s better if he pretends it doesn’t exist.

Being in the apartment is not torture, but it comes close to it. There’s a new picture near the TV, besides the one of Kento and Haibara. It’s one of Satoru, Kento, Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara in a restaurant. One of the rare times they went out, the kids too happy with the prospect of a free meal to care about hanging out with adults. Satoru looks at it, but not for too long. Maybe the Gojo clan was right, he was not born for this, for a normal life. It would be easier to fight if he had never experienced these few glimpses of what life could be if he wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

Satoru is sitting in the living room, not quite looking at the picture, trying to relax after an entire day of killing grade one curses, when Kento arrives. He closes the door with too much strength, and that’s how Satoru knows that there’s something wrong. Kento is not someone of extremes, he never exploded. Even in his angriest moments he never shouted, never pushed things around and made a scene. Nanami Kento has always been synonymous with calm, but maybe he has changed, Satoru couldn’t know.

It’s the sword that shows how angry and tired Kento is. He throws it to the ground after taking off his blazer, not even looking as it ends by Satoru’s feet. This gesture, more than anything, is what makes Satoru get up and take a step forward. Kento has always been careful with his sword, treating it almost like an extension of himself.

“What happened?” Satoru asks. It’s not like he doesn’t want to give Kento space, but as the strongest and highest ranked sorcerer still in the school Satoru ends up knowing everything about missions. He knows that sorcerers as powerful as Kento are the ones burdened with the hardest tasks, the ones who risk themselves the most.

Kento is drinking water, his hand shaking, though Satoru doesn’t know if it’s out of shock or anger. He looks over at Satoru and for a moment it looks like he won’t answer. Still, once he’s done drinking he says: “A curse nearly killed Ino.”

The Takuma kid is a first grade sorcerer now, Satoru knows. He survived Shibuya, survived everything that came after, there’s no denying that it qualified him for the position. Being a first grade meant he should be alone, but Kento went to his rescue. The knowledge that it happened makes something bitter stir inside Satoru, even if it shouldn’t. Kento would go to the rescue of anyone, his scars are proof of it.

He burnt for you, a voice inside Satoru’s mind says, he lost an eye for you, isn’t it not enough?

“Did you exorcize it?” Satoru asks just so he can push the thoughts away. Kento wouldn’t be standing there if he didn’t.

Kento seems to think the same, as he doesn’t bother replying. Instead, he grips the kitchen counter, knuckles white, head down. It’s a different side of him, one Satoru had never seen before, one that he finds strangely fascinating. Nanami Kento, always so calm, so composed, about to lose everything. It shouldn’t excite Satoru the way it does. It’s the ugly part of him showing itself again, Satoru knows. The part that will take even this if it means having Kento.

When he turns to look at Satoru his expression is pure rage. The way Kento stares at him makes Satoru’s blood boil, weeks of solitude and repressed desire making him dizzy. No one should have that type of power over him.

And yet, when Kento says “Go to the bedroom” Satoru shivers.

They look at each other for a brief second before Satoru starts walking, any pride he could have had forgotten.

—

It’s not right, Satoru knows. Kento just saved a friend from dying, he shouldn’t be doing this. Satoru should stop it, hug him, tell him to scream or cry or say comforting words, but he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he’s already shirtless by the time he throws himself on their bed, body trembling in expectation.

Kento stops by the door for a brief second, looking at him and maybe considering what they’re about to do. Satoru almost gets up to pull him closer, but he doesn’t, that’s not his role tonight. He waits, breath heavy, as Kento makes his decision. When he starts opening his shirt Satoru nearly sighs in relief.

Even with half of his body scarred and thinner Kento is still a vision, the sight of him making Satoru feel his own skin getting warmer, his heart racing. He stalks the bed almost like a predator, never leaving Satoru out of his sight – as if Satoru would even think of going anywhere else.

“Is this what you wanted?” Kento asks when he straddles Satoru’s thighs, though Satoru doesn’t know if he’s talking about their current situation or the state of the world. Maybe both. He doesn’t wait for an answer, bending forward and finally, finally kissing Satoru and it’s–

It’s still as good as it ever was, even better, maybe. There’s a part of Satoru’s brain, that dark corner where Toji made himself a room, that relishes in it. In how there’s no gentleness in the kiss, in how Kento dominates him completely, making sure Satoru knows who’s in charge.

When they pull apart Kento stares at him and it seems he’s about to say something, but instead he moves to suck on the junction of Satoru’s neck and shoulder. He bites on the skin and Satoru groans, taking one of his hands to Kento’s hair and the other to his back, clawing the marred skin.

It happens fast after that. Kento pulls both their pants and underwear down with impatience, hands pressing Satoru’s thighs open roughly. He’s not gentle when he presses two fingers into Satoru, no tenderness at all in the way he moves them. Satoru lets him because knows it’s what Kento needs now, grips Kento’s shoulders and watches as Kento does whatever he wants with his body.

He can’t remember the last time sex felt this impersonal between them, but it’s not bad, it never is with Kento. He sucks on Satoru’s shoulder, presses his fingers on Satoru’s waist with so much strength it will bruise and bites his bottom lip until it’s bleeding.

Satoru moans when Kento enters him, back arching from the bed. Kento grips his hips, pushes him back against the mattress and starts moving fast. Satoru holds him close, kisses him, feels the way Kento breathes heavily against his lips and scratches his back while Kento fucks him.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His question ends in a moan when Kento hits his prostate. He holds Kento by his hair and tugs his head away so they can look at each other. There’s no love in the way Kento looks at him, but Satoru doesn’t care about it, not now. He will, later, when he’s left alone, but now all he needs is a connection and it’s still there, the way they will never leave each other again. “You missed this, you missed me.”

He knows it’s the truth, but also knows that it’s not what Kento needs to hear right now. Still, Satoru doesn’t care, because he always liked to push Kento’s buttons to see what would happen and there’s no better moment than when they’re like this. Kento doesn’t reply, but he does start moving faster, pounding into Satoru harder, and Satoru smiles, maniac and satisfied in a way he hasn’t been in months.

Once they are done, Kento’s come dripping down his legs into the mattress, his own on his belly, Kento holds his face with one hand. It’s not a loving gesture, there’s too much strength in it, but Satoru still trembles.

“I still hate you,” he whispers as he looks Satoru in the eyes, fingers pressing against his cheeks.

When he lets go, Satoru just chuckles. “I know baby, I know,” he says.

Satoru watches as Kento rolls out of the bed, not even glancing at him, as Kento goes to the bathroom, as he dresses up again and leaves the apartment. He’s left with his body aching, the marks on his skin as proof of what they did and nothing but loneliness.

—

“He hates me now,” Satoru says to the rim of his glass, swirling his mocktail before drinking the rest of it.

The izakaya is small and cozy, the type they would avoid before, but that seems perfect now. Less space, less people, less chances for any shit to happen. Ijichi drank a couple of drinks with them before leaving, sensing that they needed – rather than wanted – to be alone. People always end up being way too accommodating to Satoru’s moods.

Shoko doesn’t say anything for a moment, but that’s expected. She’s always been the quiet one, choosing her words carefully before speaking. Instead, she signals the waiter for another bottle for herself, but doesn’t order anything for Satoru. He never goes to these places because of the food or the drinks anyway.

“Well,” she finally speaks, voice raspy and tired, normal in a way nothing else has been. “Everyone kind of hates you right now.”

“Even you?”

“I never even liked you to begin with,” Shoko deadpans and watches as the waiter brings the new bottle and pours herself sake before drinking it on one go. She’s a monster, this woman. “You know I’d never hate you, not really,” she almost smiles as she speaks, and that’s enough for Satoru. “But I’m me and the rest of the world is the rest of the world.”

Satoru nods. “I wish Yaga was here, he’d know what to say.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Shoko snorts. When she speaks again she is serious. “Can you blame him or anyone else, for that matter?” She serves herself more sake, but doesn’t drink it. “The things that happened in Shibuya and after it… It was not easy, you know?”

There’s no accusation in her voice, not the way it would be if this was anyone else. Shoko has always been a serious, practical person, but always way too sweet on him. Still, she doesn’t look at him with pity, and that’s what he needs right now. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if even her treated him any differently.

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up big time,” Satoru sighs and leans his head against the wall, wishing he at least had the courage to drink and forget everything. “The world is a shit show because I was caught off guard.”

“I’m not saying it’s fair,” Shoko waves her glass and a bit of sake spills out of it. On anyone else it would be a sign of drunkenness, but she looks as sober as she was when they first entered the place. “But people always need someone to blame and you are–”

“The strongest,” Satoru interrupts, bitter. “Yeah, I know that, Shoko-chan.”

They fall silent, Satoru playing with the napkins over the table and Shoko sipping her drink. Satoru is happy that out of all the things that changed after October 31st this hasn’t. They can sit together in companionable silence the way they always did, no pressure to fill it with idle conversation.

“You know,” Shoko speaks after a while. “When he woke up you were the first person he asked about.”

Maybe, had it been anyone else, Satoru would believe she said that just to punish him. But Shoko is not cruel, not even all that interested in his mess of a life to want him to spiral even more – and that’s not something anyone should want, really. She looks at him with the same serious expression she always does like the doctor she is.

It’s not done on purpose and it’s not cruel, but it still hurts. Satoru pictures Kento waking up in some makeshift healing station, body disfigured, and the first thing he asks about is not about how things are, about himself or even about Yuuji, who is clearly his favorite. Instead, he asks about a selfish man who let himself be trapped because he couldn’t let the past go.

Satoru imagines the expression on Kento’s face when he heard about what happened, if it was shock or sadness. Probably it was disappointment, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“I never thanked you for it,” Satoru doesn’t look at her as he speaks. “You did more than you can imagine.”

“I didn’t do it for you, I was just doing my job,” she drinks more and Satoru thinks it’s just to distract herself from wanting to smoke. “Give him time, he’ll come around.” For a moment Satoru thinks she’ll reach out and hold his hand, but all she does is give his forearm a friendly slap. “He – and everyone else, even if you don’t care about them – will realize it wasn’t your fault.”

Satoru hums, though he’s not sure he agrees. What use does he have, as the strongest person to exist, if he’ll be so easily tricked?

“I just don’t know if we have ten more years for that.”

Shoko doesn’t smile, but when she speaks it’s soft and kind, unlike her usual tone. “I doubt it’ll take that long this time,” she pats his arm again and gets up, stretching. She doesn’t even wobble, not a little bit. “And if it does, you’ll wait anyway, won’t you?”

Satoru follows her, reaching for his wallet as they walk to the cashier.

“Yeah, I will,” he replies. It’s not even a valid question, there was never any other answer to that.

—

In some way it feels like he’s inside the prison realm. Time passes now, but it’s slow, as if the world is reluctant to go back to having some order. Winter comes and goes and Satoru watches as they fight their way through more curses and challenges, all waiting for when something big will happen again.

Kenjaku might be gone (and with him Suguru’s body), but he took their hope with him, one last gift for humanity.

Satoru barely sleeps and when he does it’s in short periods that end with him waking up in the middle of the night, heart racing and hands trembling. Kento is alwyas there now, but sometimes Satoru wishes he wasn’t. His eyes are always closed even though he’s awake and he never moves when Satoru wakes up.

Sometimes they stay side by side on the bed, as much distance as possible between them, in silence. It goes on for hours on end and Satoru wants to break it, wants to reach out and touch Kento, maybe start a fight, anything is better than this limbo they are in.

And yet, Satoru doesn’t do anything. It truly feels like being trapped in the prison realm, but at least Kento’s presence by his side is a comfort. It reminds Satoru of the older days, when life hadn’t caught up with them yet, when they could pretend to be normal, to have a chance of a future.

Sometimes it’s Kento who wakes up in the middle of the night with a scream. Satoru schools himself to keep his eyes closed and infinity on as he hears Kento drop the sword he picked up from the ground and walk to the bathroom. What good could he do on those nights, anyway? He’s the one who dragged Kento back into this life for his own selfish needs, the one who failed (again and again and again) on his promise.

Satoru was so caught up in his past that he left the present to crumble in front of him, changing the lives of an entire nation because he was weak. But above all, Satoru was the one who ruined what they had, he doesn’t have the right to hold Kento after his nightmares when he was the one who caused them.

A different person would let go, would put an end to this and let Kento be free. But Satoru is not a different person, he’s selfish and he’s bad and he knows that he’ll endure all the sleepless nights and nightmares and awkward encounters if it means Kento will stop hating him one day. He’s got nothing else, he can’t let go of this too.

—

“You look awful,” Megumi tells him. The lack of politeness is not exactly new – Satoru doesn’t think Megumi ever respected him – but his voice has a new edge that wasn’t there before– well, before. “You should get some sleep.” The suggestion lacks any warmth, but he knows Megumi means well.

He has heard it before, countless times. From Yuuji, Nobara, Maki, Shoko, from anyone who even looks at him one time. They can’t see his eyes, but they can still see how Satoru looks to be falling apart and the thing is, everyone is too tired of him to try and put his pieces back together.

It’s something that always annoyed him, how people act concerned with his well being, but it’s from a practical point of view. We need you in top shape, they seem to tell him in between the lines, you need to do better next time after your fuck up. It’s the same thing as always, Gojo Satoru is a weapon in the form of a man. Almost thirty years on this earth and he still expects different, how foolish of him.

Still, this is Megumi, who seems to be doing better now that Tsumiki is awake. Megumi, who might not respect him, but who still likes him the same.

So, instead of lashing out like he wants, Satoru says: “Well, thank you, Megumi. I’ll try to sleep more tonight.”

Megumi makes a short tsc sound. “You’re being condescending, sensei. I thought you wouldn’t treat me like a child anymore.”

Satoru wants to tell him that he is a child. Sixteen is far too young to know anything about the world, but what does Satoru know, anyway? He was sixteen when Toji nearly killed him and Megumi was sixteen when he joined the Culling Games to save his sister and rescue Satoru.

This child saved his life.

“I’m sorry. Old habits die hard,” Satoru offers. “I don’t think any of us sleep that well these days, do we?”

“No,” Megumi answers. “It’s difficult to do it, after everything.”

“Ah, but what about that girl, what’s her name? Remi?” Satoru goes back to his teasing ways because it’s easier than to let the conversation go to where he thinks Megumi wants it to. “Can’t she keep you company during the night?”

“Shut up,” Megumi sighs. He turns to look at Satoru, looking so much older than he is. That’s what this life does to people, Satoru thinks, it takes every last bit of energy they have. “You’re the same as Itadori, sensei. Neither of you can stop blaming yourselves for things that were out of your control. That’s why you can’t sleep.”

Satoru laughs bitterly. “Itadori is a kid with bad luck, I was supposed to be the strongest sorcerer in the world and let someone else get the upper hand,” he doesn’t look at Megumi, but knows the boy is staring at him. “And it has cost me everything.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Megumi says right away. “You’re just not used to things not going your way, sensei. You stayed inside that thing and the rest of us had to fight every day to bring you back. Did you see Maki? Kugisaki? Inumaki-senpai? They lost a lot, but you don’t see them moping around, do you? No, because they’re not spoiled like you.”

Satoru looks at him, truly looks at him. Megumi stares at him with an expression that is so intense Satoru wants to look away. It’s not Toji’s eyes, not Toji’s expression. No, this is all him, the boy who grew up to be one of the best.

“I didn’t expect you would be the one to lecture me, Megumi-chan,” Satoru says, voice sweet. It’s difficult to be serious with him because Megumi knows him well.

Megumi rolls his eyes. “That’s because everyone else is scared you’ll freak out and kill us all, but I’ve seen you cry watching rom-coms while eating ice-cream. I’m not scared of you, sensei.”

They look at each other, Satoru and the kid he pretty much adopted, who he didn’t raise, not exactly, but who he saw grow up. It has to be an irony of destiny that Megumi, out of everyone, is the person to set him straight. No matter what, Satoru can’t run away from those damn Zenin.

“I’ll get my shit together, I promise,” he tells Megumi at last.

Megumi stares at him and it’s obvious he doesn’t really believe it – Satoru has lied and told him too many half truths for the kid to trust him completely – but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“You better,” he says instead. “Sukuna still exists, remember?”

How could he ever forget? Their world is a never ending string of problems and curses. Sukuna still exists and one day he won’t, but the problems won’t stop. Satoru will have to deal with it all one way or another, for his own sake and other’s.

—

Kento is waiting for him when he gets home.

The sight is painfully domestic: Kento dressed in sweatpants and a shirt, hair still damp from a shower, finishing dinner. It tugs at Satoru’s heartstrings, making him ball his hands into fists, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Go take a shower,” Kento orders without even turning around. “Dinner is ready.”

There’s something in his voice that is not the same love as always, but it’s something almost close to it. So Satoru does what he was told, takes a shower and prepares himself for whatever is about to happen. Maybe it’s the end, again, and he could delay it, pretend he just got a message or something, but Kento deserves better.

“Fushiguro told me you haven’t been eating,” Kento says as he serves dinner.

“That kid is really all up my business these days,” Satoru complains. “You let a boy take you out from a prison realm once and suddenly he wants to act like he’s your father.”

Kento snorts. “He worries about you,” he sits down in front of Satoru. “And he’s not the only one.”

They look at each other for a moment before Kento looks away and starts eating. Satoru follows, unsure of what’s happening, what he is supposed to do with this gesture. Maybe, he muses, Kento was told to look after him, make sure he stays in good fighting shape. Being a jujutsu sorcerer sometimes feels like a punishment, maybe this is Kento’s.

“I’m not eating, you’re drinking too much, we’re kind of a shit show right now, Kento-kun,” Satoru says, risking a glance at Kento.

“I know,” Kento looks from his plate to Satoru. For a moment he has the same expression as before, love and care and something else. He blinks and it all disappears into his serious stare. “I’ll cut the drinking and take care of myself. Will you do the same?”

“I’ll cut the drinking too, I promise,” Satoru pushes it a bit because the atmosphere is almost good. Then, after seeing the way Kento looks at him, he turns serious too. “I just… Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know how to continue with all this guilt, you know?” Satoru looks at his food, barely touched. He forces himself to take a bit just to buy himself some time. “Every time I look at my students, every time I look at you, I’m reminded that all of this happened because I let it happen. I don’t know how to move on from all of this.”

Before, Satoru never had to think about the consequences of his actions. Riko, Toji, Suguru, those things happened, but they disappeared, buried and forgotten. It was easy to push them to the back of his mind when Satoru didn’t have to look at them anymore. Even Kento, after their break up, was easy to forget for some moments. Satoru had two kids to look after, then had students to train.

But this, this won’t go away because Satoru can’t walk around without looking at the damage he has caused. It was easy to pretend to be the free spirit Gojo Satoru when he could put everything behind him, swipe it under the rug. Now Kento’s face is the proof of his incompetence, a daily reminder of his failure.

For a moment he thinks that Kento won’t say anything back and the moment will end there. So, it surprises Satoru when Kento finally speaks: “You are the one who always said sacrifices had to be made. Well, they were.” His voice is not soft, but not as serious as it would have been. Kento seems to be a mixture of the person he once was when he left the jujutsu world and the person he became after they got together and Satoru clings to it. Maybe it’s a transition, maybe it’s the new him. “Wounds heal. They might take time, but they do. We’re alive, so take solace in it.”

“I take more than just solace in you being alive and you know that.”

And for the first time since Satoru has returned Kento smiles. It’s one of his rare, genuine smiles, the ones he reserved for Satoru only. “I know,” he says. “It’s the same for me.”

“So, you still love me?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d never stop loving you, Satoru.”

Satoru hums. “But you also hate me.”

“Yes,” Kento replies. Sometimes Satoru wishes he would be a bit less direct, maybe lie to spare his feelings. But then it wouldn’t be the Nanami Kento he loved, would it? “I need more time,” he adds. “Can you grant it to me?”

“I can grant you anything you want.” As long as you never leave me, Satoru doesn’t say it, but Kento knows.

He smiles again at Satoru, more subdued this time. “Thank you,” he says. “Now eat your food or Fushiguro will get tired of this and kill us both.”

Satoru snorts, but actually eats his dinner. It’s impossible not to do whatever Kento wants him to, not when this is the first time they actually talk. It’s the beginning of something, he feels.

—

Days go by, seasons change, Satoru doesn’t try to turn the world back to what it was. It’s something they all understood early on, something he should have learned years ago: there’s no way but forward. Snow slowly gives way to cherry blossoms, life goes on, because one way or another it always does.

They fall into a routine, one that is not exactly awkward, but not as natural as before. At least now they have dinner together, even if it’s only so Kento can make sure Satoru is eating. Whether that’s just so he can report to Megumi or not, Satoru doesn’t know. What he does know is that it’s good in its own way, to share a meal, a moment in which they don’t stiffen in each other’s presence.

Sometimes they talk about missions, about things they have yet to do, about which one of the students is better at this or that. Even if it’s too professional, Satoru latches onto those conversations, analyzes them later when they go to bed, trying to find clues of Kento’s feelings in them.

He knows what Kento said, knows he needs time, but Satoru has never been patient. He couldn’t even respect Kento’s space when he left the jujutsu world, how does anyone expect him to do so now that they live in the same place? If only Kento was someone else, someone unimportant who Satoru knew how to quit, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

Slowly their routines start including getting ready for bed together. Satoru isn’t sure of who starts it, but soon they are brushing their teeth side by side in front of the mirror (Kento never looks at it, Satoru notices it), changing clothes at the same time (Kento no longer hides his body) and lying down together. They don’t touch, but Kento always whispers “goodnight”, and it’s enough, for now.

—

Satoru wakes up shaking, sitting up and clutching his chest.

He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down and not wake Kento up, but when he looks to the side the bed is empty. He closes his eyes and tries to swallow the disappointment – what did he expect, that Kento would hug him like before?

“Satoru.” The voice startles him and Satoru looks to find Kento sitting on the armchair at the corner of their bedroom. A sliver of moonlight shines over him from the window and Satoru can see him perfectly: his long legs are perched on it and he’s holding his sword with one hand. It’s his source of comfort, Satoru knows, but the sight still makes him shiver. “You’re here.”

Satoru nods, though he isn’t sure if Kento can even see it. “I know, I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t.”

They stay in silence and for the first time in months it isn’t tense or uncomfortable. Kento is looking at the window, lost in thoughts, and Satoru watches him. He can see the scarred side, red patterns over his cheek and ear, blond hair flopping to the side. Somehow, even like this Kento is still handsome. It adds to his look, Satoru thinks, a way to show that this man can survive anything and everything, that he is a fighter.

“What did you dream about?” Kento asks, breaking the silence.

“The prison realm,” Satoru replies. If he closes his eyes he’ll see it as if he’s still there: the endless darkness, the skeletons, the feeling of despair.

“How was it, inside?”

“Cold, void,” Satoru focuses on Kento, remembers that he’s out now, the prison realm is destroyed, he’s not going back there. He leans against his pillow and sighs. “What did you dream about?”

“That first grade curse, Mahito.” The name comes out as a whisper, as if Kento still fears it. “I suppose we had history, him and I.” Satoru is not strange to seeing Kento like this, showing his vulnerabilities, but it’s been a while, so he doesn’t reply. That’s a part of him Satoru thought he would never see again. Then, Kento turns to look at him, expression serious. “When he was about to touch me I saw Yu, right in front of me.”

The confession makes Satoru tremble, the ghost of his past feelings of jealousy towards Haibara coming back.

“I remember speaking to him,” Kento continues. “What am I doing, Yu?” He chuckles, a bitter sound. “And the Yu in my mind pointed at Itadori-kun. I knew then I couldn’t become yet another burden to him, he already carries so much.” His voice softens, then, almost as if remembering something good. “So you see, Satoru, you’re not the only one haunted by the past.”

“Yeah, but I–”

“It wasn’t your fault, Satoru,” Kento interrupts him, voice full of resolution. Satoru waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, Kento drops his sword to the ground and walks back to the bed. “Come here,” he says once he’s laying down, arms open.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate before joining him, resting his head on Kento’s chest. When he feels Kento’s arms around him he closes his eyes, hiding his face on the crook of Kento’s neck. Satoru clings to him like he’s a lifeline, afraid that if he doesn’t Kento will push him away.

He doesn’t. Instead, Kento hugs him close, brushing his fingers through Satoru’s hair. The gesture is soothing and Satoru relaxes in his arms. He’s almost asleep when he hears Kento whisper: “Satoru?”

“Yes?”

Kento speaks close to his ear, voice soft and, for the first time in months, sweet. “I love you.”

He smiles, nuzzling against the skin of Kento’s neck. “I know baby, I know.”

—

Kento doesn’t look at himself.

It’s a thing Satoru first notices in the nights when they go to bed together. He was never a vain person, but now he barely glances at himself before leaving the bathroom. He avoids reflective surfaces and hides himself under layers of clothing. Satoru wonders if it’s because of the memory of the burn – he doesn’t have scars left by Toji, but sometimes, when Satoru looks at his own torso, he remembers the pain – or because of what they mean. Or maybe, and that’s the worse option, Kento simply sees himself as ugly now.

Satoru watches the others, trying to see if they too avoid their own scars. Maki doesn’t seem to care, but she doesn’t seem to care about much now. Yuuji doesn’t even think about it, Inumaki can’t really explain himself, which leads him to the only person who could give him a concrete answer.

“How do you feel about…” Satoru gestures vaguely towards her face as she eats.

Nobara raises her head, looking at him. Out of all the first years she always scared him the most. Satoru has known Megumi since he was a kid, there’s nothing the boy can’t do that he can’t predict, Yuuji is an easy read, a loveable airhead who wants to help others. But Nobara, she always kept her own thoughts and feelings well guarded. Or maybe he never cared to ask her, deemed her the least important of the three. The thought sits heavy in his mind now.

“Not having an eye?” She asks and does a little tsc that Satoru is sure she learned from Megumi. “It’s whatever,” Nobara goes back to her rice, eating slowly as she thinks. “I mean, in the beginning it was awful. It takes some time to get used to it, but I had nothing else to do, so,” she shrugs. “Also, Nanami-san helped me a lot.”

They are very close these days, the two of them. Nobara follows Nanami around the school, trains with him and seeks his advice when she doesn’t know how to improve or even on life matters. It should make Satoru feel jealous, but it doesn’t. It’s just like Kento, to offer guidance to all the kids equally, not based on who he thinks has the most potential.

She looks at him, contemplative. “You’re asking because of him, aren’t you, sensei?”

“Yes,” Satoru replies. Nobara would probably laugh if he tried to lie to her.

She hums. “Yeah, I noticed Nanami-san avoids looking at himself. I don’t know why, he’s like, super hot in a kinda old way – with all due respect,” she says, sarcastic. “I couldn’t look at myself either, when I woke up.” Her voice is serious now and she even looks older. “I hated looking at my face. First because I felt like I wasn’t enough, you know? Itadori and Fushiguro were out there trying to save you and I was on a bed learning how to walk like a baby. Then I just felt like I was ugly.”

“Nobara-chan, you still look very pretty,” Satoru says, voice warm.

She dismisses him with a gesture. “I know now, because I thought a lot about it and realized that it made me look super badass. And also because Maki-senpai says it to me almost every day.”

“Ah,” he supplies, for a lack of anything better to say.

Nobara laughs, but it’s not mocking. “I think Nanami-san is over the feeling useless part. I mean, he shouldn’t even think like that because he was the one who protected us, but I guess that’s something all of us normal human beings feel sometimes.” Her voice is not accusatory, but the way she looks at him makes Satoru feel a bit uncomfortable.

This time he doesn’t even try to say anything. There’s no way to defend himself from it.

“I don’t even know if he’s that worried about how he looks because of himself, you know? If I had to guess I’d say he thinks we are uncomfortable with the way he looks or we think he’s ugly. And yet, the other day we saved this woman and she was totally hitting on him,” Nobara adds, voice lower as if Kento can appear at any moment and reprimand her for telling the story. “Saying that scars are sexy and all that shit.”

Satoru tries not to feel jealous, it’s ridiculous. But still, he feels himself almost asking Nobara about this person, where he can find her, why they let her live. Nobara seems to notice his distress, but she doesn’t do anything to help him. Instead, she watches Satoru and snickers as if she’s having the time of her life. He forgot she was always the feisty one among the first years.

“Maybe you should tell him his scars are sexy, sensei,” Nobara says, voice teasing. “Then you can have your gross old people sex, Nanami-san wouldn’t look so tense all the time and you wouldn’t try to bribe a sixteen year old into giving you relationship advice. Everyone wins.”

“We are not old!” When Satoru speaks it’s almost like before, when things were easier. “And I’m not bribing you into giving me relationship advice, Nobara-chan. I’m taking my pretty student to lunch, it’s different.”

“Sure is, old man,” Nobara snickers again. She puts her chopsticks aside, leaning her head against her palm as she looks at him. “I think you just need to talk to Nanami-san, sensei. He’s always the one who protects people and he’s good at it, but he needs someone to have his back too.”

It should be an easy task for him, being the strongest means supporting everyone, but Satoru feels himself frozen. Time and time again he tried to be there for Kento and time and time again he failed on doing so; maybe he isn’t cut for relationships, Satoru thinks bitterly. Maybe the Gojo clan was right and he was born to be alone, untouchable on his pedestal.

Nobara seems to sense his uneasiness, reaching out to pat his hand on a gesture that is a bit condescending, but something he expected from her. “Don’t make that face, sensei,” she says, voice actually sweet. “I know you’re thinking about Shibuya, but that’s in the past now, look to the future.”

She’s smiling, but Satoru can’t offer her a smile of his own. “Nobara, do you blame me for what happened?”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t, in the beginning. I mean, everyone kind of did, you know?” She asks. Yes, Satoru does know. “But for us it was different than it was for Nanami-san, I think. He worried a lot about you, still does. You just need to reach out and talk to him,” Nobara adds, going back to her food.

Satoru looks at her. “When did you become this wise, Nobara-chan?”

“I’ve always been like this, sensei,” she replies. “But you never paid attention until you needed to.” There’s no accusation in her voice, but there’s a hint of resentment in it that makes Satoru want to leave the restaurant. He has overlooked her too long and now they both know it’s too late for him to do anything about it.

“I’m glad you have Nanamin to help you.”

Nobara smiles and for the first time since they started talking she looks like the child she is. “Me too, he’s a nice mentor.” There is only happiness in her voice now and Satoru realizes that this is what Nobara needed, someone to guide her. As usual Kento succeeded where he failed. “And I’m glad he has you, sensei. I can see you love him a lot. It’s obvious by the gross look on your face every time you talk about him.”

Satoru doesn’t even bother denying it. Maybe, if this was in the past, his pride would get the best of him and he would pretend to be above it. But so much has happened, he can’t pretend to be the unreachable Gojo Satoru anymore. For better or for worse Shibuya showed his human nature to the world.

“Thank you, Nobara-chan,” he pushes his own side dishes to her side of the table. “Now eat, I’d hate to leave Nanamin’s favorite starving.”

Nobara snorts. “Now sensei, you know that’s Itadori.”

Satoru smiles at her and for the first time in months he feels lighter. Maybe things will be better, after all.

—

When Kento arrives in the kitchen Satoru is already there, breakfast ready to be served. He turns to Kento with a smile, gesturing towards the table. “Morning! Breakfast?”

Kento gives him a puzzled look, but sits down anyway. “You can cook now?”

“Don’t be so surprised, you know I can excel on everything I try,” Satoru serves breakfast and takes his seat in front of Kento, smiling. They look at each other for a moment before they start eating.

“Gonna tell me what this is about?” Kento asks in between bites.

“After breakfast,” Satoru tells him, voice soft. For once conversation between them feels natural and he relishes in the feeling. “We shouldn’t be having any conversation with our bellies empty, it’s not good.”

Kento raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. It’s easy now, to be in the same space as him and not feel like suffocating. The worst part is over, now they just need to take care of some seams. Satoru studies him as they eat, how he looks like a different person, but still the same Kento he always knew. Being a jujutsu sorcerer has given him expression lines and scars, but when Satoru looks him in the eyes he can still see that same boy he fell for.

“I had lunch with Kugisaki yesterday,” he says.

“So I’ve heard.”

Satoru carries their used bows and plates to the sink, leaving them there. Kento is in the living room now, waiting for him. Satoru looks at him, at his posture and expression, and his chest aches. This is a man who bent and bent, but was never once broken in his whole life.

“Do you know what she told me?” Satoru asks as he sits on the couch by Kento’s side. “That you need someone to have your back,” he says then, choosing his words carefully. “And I realized she’s right, you need someone to help you and I haven’t been that person.”

“I pushed you away, Satoru,” Kento says, voice serious.

“You needed space because you’ve been through a traumatic experience and all I did was mope around like I was the biggest victim of it all,” Satoru takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He wishes he could be a different person, the type to whom these conversations are easy. But Satoru grew up spoiled and time did little to teach him otherwise. “You and everyone else paid for my mistake, but I still acted like I was the only one who suffered.”

Kento turns to him and it’s impossible for Satoru not to see the love in his expression. It’s a grounding feeling, to know that despite everything Kento still loves him. “You suffered too,” he, much like Satoru, takes a deep breath. “You know, when I fell in love with you I didn’t really understand what it would mean, to love the strongest person in the world,” he reaches out, offering his hand, and Satoru holds it. “I told you that no one saw the human in you, but I treated you like everyone else, as if you’re some sort of god who should die for our sins.”

Satoru offers him a tired smile. “I never behaved any other way, so I don’t blame you,” he squeezes Kento’s hand. “I want you to know that I’m not perfect, but I’m here for you, Kento. I know that you might think that my word doesn’t mean much but–”

“I do,” Kento interrupts him. “I never once doubted your word, Satoru. I know you always do the best you can.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Satoru wants, no, needs for Kento to know how honest he is, how he still has trouble forgiving himself for failing his promise to protect Kento and the others again and again.

Kento smiles at him. “You’re here now, that’s what matters,” he looks down at their interlaced fingers and caresses the back of Satoru’s hand with his thumb. “And Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t hate you now.”

Satoru smiles, leaning forward. Kento meets him halfway as Satoru knew he would, kissing him tenderly. It reminds Satoru of the way they used to kiss when they were teenagers, with care and patience, as if they had all the time in the world, as if death wouldn’t come for them at any moment. And death came and went, but they’re still here, Satoru thinks, still together. He presses his palm against the side of Kento’s neck, feels the scarred skin, warm under his fingertips, a proof that Nanami Kento is a man of his word.

When they break the kiss Kento leans his forehead against Satoru’s and they close their eyes, enjoying each other’s company. It’s different from the times they’ve slept together, there’s no awkwardness lingering, no stiffness. Now they are on the same page again, meeting each other after some time away.

They kiss again and Satoru pulls himself back to look at Kento. “Can I ask you something?” After Kento nods he still takes his time formulating the question. “Why don’t you look at yourself anymore, Kento?”

“So you’ve noticed,” Kento says as he pulls away. It’s not the distance of someone who might close off, but rather of someone who’s thinking about the best way of explaining their thoughts.

“I notice everything about you,” Satoru squeezes his hand again.

Kento sighs. “I know I’m not pleasing to the eye,” he says, voice low. “I never thought about my appearance before but now it’s all I can think about,” he looks at his own hand, as if seeing the scars there for the first time, studying them. “I don’t want you to have to look at me like this, but there’s nothing I can do, this is the best I’ll ever look.”

Satoru pulls him into a hug. “No scar will ever push me away from you, Kento,” he says into Kento’s neck. There’s a lump in his throat and Satoru swallows it. Now is not the time. “And you’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, that hasn’t changed.”

Kento snorts. “You don’t need to say it, Satoru.”

“I do, because it’s true,” Satoru pushes him away gently, keeping his hands on Kento’s shoulders. “Your scars are proof of how strong you are, as a sorcerer and as a man. There’s nothing ugly about them,” he takes one of his hands to Kento’s hair, brushing his fingers through the blond strands. “And on a very selfish note,” Satoru adds, a teasing tone in his voice. “They are proof of how much you love me. How could I not love to look at them?”

This makes Kento laugh, leaning against Satoru’s touch. “Of course you’d say that, everything is always about you,” he says, this time without any bitterness. He touches Satoru’s cheek with his marred hand, brushes his thumb over Satoru’s cheek before leaning closer. “I don’t know why, but I’ve always been foolish enough to find it charming.”

Satoru closes the distance between them, kissing Kento slowly. “You just love me so much you can’t help but love even my flaws, Kento-kun,” he whispers against Kento’s lips before kissing him again. When they part again Satoru moves to kiss his cheek, his jaw and his neck. “And I think that your scars are sexy,” Satoru nuzzles against the crook of his neck. “Let me show you how much I like them.”

Kento pulls away, staring at him. “You don’t need to.”

“But I want it,” Satoru insists. “Do you?”

Kento nods, almost shy. It’s another different side of him, one that Satoru only saw once or twice, when they were teenagers. They’d kiss and touch each other and Satoru would do his best to leave it for Kento to decide what was enough. Until Kento was the one touching Satoru, demanding more, taking whatever he wanted. It’s not something Satoru takes lightly, the way Kento trusts him enough to show his vulnerabilities.

Satoru smiles at him, getting up from the couch and holding out his hand. He does so without reservation, because he knows that Kento will hold it now.

—

They undress without any hurry, in between kisses and touches. If Kento feels self conscious in the morning light he doesn’t show it. Satoru kisses his cheek when he presses a hand against Kento’s chest, gently pushing him into the bed. When he does the same they are still both in their underwear and Kento holds him close, hands on his cheeks, kissing Satoru with gentleness, but also with intent.

“I missed you,” he says when Satoru pulls away.

Satoru kisses the scarred tissue of his shoulder. “I missed you too, baby,” he says back, open and unashamed. “Let me show you how much.”

He pulls away to kneel over Kento, taking in every detail of his body. He looks better now, healthier, the lines of muscle more defined. The burned side of his torso is still red, a contrast to the fair skin of the rest of his body, but Satoru doesn’t see it as ugly. He kisses down the scars, from the line of his shoulder down his abdomen, feeling how warm Kento’s skin is under his lips. You’re here, Satoru wants to tell him, you’re alive, that’s all that matters to me. I’d take you in any way.

Satoru pauses when his lips reach Kento’s underwear, pushing it down his legs with far more calm than he feels. It’s not always that they do things like this, slow. Satoru always liked it fast and rough and messy and Kento always liked to please him, but that’s not what they need right now. So after Satoru throws Kento’s underwear to the side he presses his hands against his thighs, kisses and bites the skin until he is satisfied with the marks left there. Those are bruises no one else will see, but Satoru will know of their existence, will know that he’s the only person who has the privilege to mark Nanami Kento like this.

He looks up at Kento, who stares back at him in adoration. Satoru finally touches his dick, stroking him slowly because he knows it always drives Kento crazy when he does so. “Missed your cock too,” he says, so close that his lips almost touch the tip when he speaks.

Kento snorts, one hand going to Satoru’s hair, but not moving his head. He just keeps it there to steady himself. “I bet you did.”

Satoru finally licks the precum off the head, relishing in the way Kento closes his eyes and groans. He keeps one hand around the base, the other on Kento’s waist, and sucks the head, lips going down the length slowly. Kento’s hand on his hair is heavy, but it stays still – he understands what Satoru wants to do, knows he doesn’t need to give any order.

Still, after Satoru licks the length of it, Kento’s hips thrust up and Satoru presses him against the bed, pulling away to look at him. “Don’t make me tie you up baby,” he warns before moving his lips down to the base of Kento’s dick, one hand fondling his balls.

It’s only Kento tugs at his hair and whispers “Satoru” that Satoru pulls away, both hands going to Kento’s thighs, feeling how his muscles twitch. He knows how he must look, lips swollen, saliva down his chin, eyelashes wet. Kento takes one look at him and closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, making Satoru laugh.

“Not yet, my beautiful kouhai,” Satoru tells him, moving to the side of the bed. “You can only come when I’m fucking you.”

Kento opens just one eye to look at him, his forearm over the bad one. “I should know you’d be like this even when you want to be romantic.”

Satoru grabs the lube and looks at him, a smile on his lips. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Kento has no answer to that, he knows. So instead he opens his arms and Satoru gives in, letting himself be pulled into an embrace and a kiss. Kento’s dick presses against him and Satoru moans into the kiss, his own dick hard and leaking into his underwear, but when he pulls aways he doesn’t take it off. This is about Kento, and Satoru will do it slowly and gently.

After Satoru lubes his fingers up he leans his cheek against Kento’s chest, looking at his face as he pulls one of Kento’s thighs up, fingers tracing his rim. Kento closes his eyes and Satoru kisses his chest. “Relax,” he whispers, pushing the first finger in.

Satoru distracts him with kisses to his neck, biting down the skin while he pushes his finger deeper, paying attention to Kento’s expressions. Only when Kento opens his eyes to look down at him, voice hoarse when he whispers Satoru’s name does Satoru push a second finger in, enjoying the way Kento turns his head to the side, cheeks reddish.

He always gets like this when Satoru is the one fucking him, shy and reserved and so, so responsive. Satoru likes the way he bites his bottom lip, the way his body trembles and the skin of his chest starts to get red too.

“You’re so pretty, Kento-kun,” Satoru whispers when he adds another finger. He’s so hard he feels like exploding, but it’s been a while since Kento let Satoru fuck him and Satoru wants to be careful. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Satoru,” he starts, but whatever he is about to say next ends in a sigh when Satoru presses his fingers against his prostate.

“I mean it,” Satoru continues, smiling as he kisses Kento’s scarred cheek. “I’ve never met anyone that I wanted the way I want you,” he moves his fingers faster, watching as Kento’s breath gets faster. “I’m obsessed with you, you know that.”

Kento reaches out to touch his chest and his shoulder. “You know it’s the same for me.”

“Oh, I know it,” Satoru kisses him again. He pulls his fingers away and watches as Kento groans. Then, Satoru finally takes off his own underwear, kneeling over Kento to look at him as he spreads lube over his own dick, moaning at the friction of his hand. “Look at you, you’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t believe you’re still mine.”

Satoru touches one of his thighs and Kento understands, pulling both legs up and holding them against his chest. His face and chest are still red, but Satoru doesn’t know if it’s due to shyness or arousal. He doesn’t move, looking at Kento’s body, one hand touching his abdomen, staring at Kento’s hard dick leaking precum against his skin.

“You’re so hot like this Kento,” Satoru says as he lines himself against Kento’s entrance, moving the head of his dick up and down his taint. “My beautiful, beautiful kouhai, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He pushes his dick slowly, looking at the way Kento closes his eyes and moves his head to the side again. Satoru gives him that for now, hands pressing against the back of Kento’s thighs as he bottoms out, remaining still to control himself. He always liked the way Kento fucked him, hard and strong and controlling, but this, this is something else. Satoru leans forward, speaking close to Kento’s ear. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you, Kento-kun. I want you to see what you do to me.”

Kento opens his eyes and looks at him, but it’s glossy, unfocused with desire. Satoru loves this look on him, when he allows himself to let go, to give in to the lust. It’s addictive, the way Kento holds onto his arms and lets Satoru fuck him however he wants. He’s always been quiet during sex, not sharing more than a few grunts, but now, when Satoru moves almost all the way out and back in a slow pace he whines and Satoru grins.

“That’s it, baby, come on, don’t be shy, moan for me,” Satoru goads, thrusting hard into Kento, the noise of their bodies colliding making him dizzy.

“Satoru,” Kento moans his name, one hand going down Satoru’s arm and it’s obvious what he wants. Satoru thinks that some other time he’ll tease Kento with it, making him beg. But this is not the time, so wraps one hand around Kento’s dick and strokes him. “Fuck.”

“Are you gonna come for me baby?” Satoru asks, kisses Kento’s cheek again and pushes deep into him, grinding his hips against Kento’s, making him moan again. “It’s okay baby, come on, come on my dick, show me how much you love it.”

Kento bites his shoulder and Satoru has no doubt he’ll leave a mark, a reminder that Satoru belongs to him too. He clings to Satoru and comes with a groan against Satoru’s neck, panting against his skin. Satoru looks at him, brushes his hair away from his face and kisses him again, fucking him through his orgasm.

“That’s it, my beautiful Kento, my love,” Satoru whispers praises against his skin, closing his eyes and coming inside Kento, loving the way he trembles when he feels himself being filled up. Satoru takes a deep breath and kisses Kento’s cheek again. “I love you,” he whispers against the scars.

Kento hugs him closer, hides his face on the crook of Satoru’s neck. It’s a showing of vulnerability Satoru only remembers of their teenage years, when Kento was still a boy inexperienced in the jujutsu world, before death touched him.

“I’m sorry,” Kento says against his skin. “For saying I hated you.”

They pull apart and Satoru touches his cheek, smiling. “You can hate me sometimes, it’s fine,” he says. “I know it will never last.”

“Still–”

“Kento, neither of us is perfect,” Satoru interrupts. He pulls out and rolls to the side, pulling Kento closer to him. Cleaning up will be awful later, and he knows Kento will complain about the sheets, but for now Satoru doesn’t care, he wants to hold Kento in his arms. “There will be times when we will say awful things to each other, but I know we never mean them.”

This is a quality that they both acquired over time, knowing how to weed out what is said out of sadness and hurt and what is intentional. Satoru knows the way Kento works, knows that he will still hate himself for saying those words, but it’s fine, Satoru will wait until he forgives himself.

“Truth be told,” Kento says, “I don’t think I could ever hate you. Not really,” he sits up, frowning at the mess on his body. “And I tried when I left the jujutsu world. I tried really hard.”

Maybe, if Kento had said this before, there would be resignation in his voice. As if he was chaining himself to Satoru, not even considering that there were other options. Now, however, he says it with honesty and regret. They’ve been together and apart enough times now to understand that it’s not chains that keep them together, but their own will.

“I’m just that irresistible, I understand,” Satoru jokes, kissing Kento’s cheek. He looks Kento in the eyes and smiles, seeing nothing but love there. He still doesn’t know if Kento can love himself in the same way he loves Satoru, but it’s fine, Satoru will be by his side until he learns to do it again. “Stay there baby, I’ll run us a bath.”

“So I’m getting the full service?” Kento leans against the headboard.

“Oh, you absolutely are, Nanami-san,” Satoru kisses him softly, once, twice, three times before he forces himself to pull away. “If you’re a good boy I might even fuck you in the bathtub.”

Kento gives him a flat look. “You’d never even look in my direction if I ever were good, Satoru.”

Satoru throws his head back, laughing. “You know what? You’re totally right,” he says. “You’ve always been a bit mean and I’ve always loved it,” he winks at Kento before leaving, hearing his soft laugh as he walks to the bathroom.

Their bathtub is nowhere big enough for two men of their size and Kento says so over and over again, but he doesn’t move away when Satoru sits behind him, keeping him close. They’ve spent so long apart that he won’t be denied contact anymore and Kento seems to feel the same. They kiss and talk until the water turns cold, but neither seems to want to leave. It’s good to feel happy in each other’s presence again.

—

Some days are better than others. Some days Kento is too quiet, too in his own head, lost in his own memories. Satoru understands it, because some days he’s the same, thinking about the prison realm, thinking about seeing the light leaving Suguru’s eyes for the second time. They’ve lived through so much, lost so much, some days they can’t carry the weight of their past.

But now they can do it together, and so they do. Satoru pulls Kento closer on the couch and reads a silly book for him, brushing his fingers through Kento’s hair until he falls asleep. Kento buys him sweets and talks about his day, about Nobara’s progress and what they did. It’s good, distracting Satoru from whatever he’s thinking about. There’s a cadence to Kento’s voice that has always been soothing to him, making him feel at ease.

On the very bad days, when they have to fight nasty curses and have to see people die, they are still together, but in silence. There’s a mutual understanding that sometimes they don’t want to talk, they don’t want to be distracted, they just want to be. They go through their routines and each other’s presence brings them peace. There’s happiness in it, to know that no matter how difficult things are they can always go back to each other.

And, no matter what happens during the day, when they go to bed Satoru and Kento always hold each other. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t, but they are together and the heaviness in their hearts disappears even if just through the night. But mostly, every night when they lie in each other’s arms Kento will tug him closer and whisper “I love you” against Satoru’s ear and Satoru knows it’s not performative, it’s not his way of making up for his past words. Kento loves him, simple as that, and every night he reminds Satoru of that fact.

And every night Satoru smiles and says “I know baby,” to him. Then, he’ll kiss Kento’s scars and say “I love you too”, because he does.