Chapter Text
You were the lone heir to the Eida clan.
Their notoriety did not stem from major political ties to the Jujutsu world, but rather from their seclusion and the guarding of secrets. Only every few generations, a sorcerer with enough curse energy to wield your inherited technique would emerge from your clan, a much more typical fate being that of a scholar of ancient tomes and rites.
You were raised from birth to uphold knowledge that few other clans knew. Still, the moment your technique had emerged, or rather, sliced straight through the steaming yunomi you had attempted to grab, along with the cedar table your great-grandfather had painstakingly built, your path was decidedly chosen.
You did not know it then, but at the tender age of only six, you were preordained to shoulder the public perception and responsibility of the Eida clan, the only visage aside from your father’s to grace the boundaries outside of the estate. The members of your clan were not ones to venture out for non-academic pursuits unless required by duty, even if only to maintain amiability with the three major heads of Jujutsu society.
Your family were therefore hesitant in allowing you to enrol in Tokyo Jujutsu High. For one, Tokyo was 3 hours by train from your ancestral home in Nara, much farther than even your most intrepid progenitors had dared travel. Despite your lineage’s technique, long-distance travel utilising it was out of the question for most. You had argued that there weren’t trains at that time, or, for that matter, any of the technological conveniences of the modern era. If it weren’t for the fact that your childhood bedroom was adorned with posters of early 2000s TV shows, your GameCube in the corner with your favourite video game still in the console slot, you would have thought you were still in the Heian era.
We might as well be. You had thought after a particularly tedious meeting with the head of the Zenin clan. Your father had to practically drag you by the feet to Kyoto, where you then had to listen to three hours of nothing but inter-clan strategy and meddling. You had little to no interest in the traditional policies and ideas of Jujutsu, especially if you had to constantly maintain niceties with elders who couldn’t seem to be able to rid themselves of the rods stuck up their hinds.
That was likely the only reason why your father begrudgingly allowed you to move to Tokyo. He understood your plight but knew that there was ultimately no amount of whining or running that would achieve anything. It was just four years, you had pleaded, bowing from the waist in the more sincere gesture you could muster. Considering you were the first member of the Eida clan in 200 years who could wield the family technique in combat, you desperately needed to hone your physical attributes somewhere else. Tutors could only do so much.
Therefore, with one luggage in hand, you were standing by the base of Mount Mushiro, staring up at the stairs leading to the Torii gates above. With a deep breath, you take your first step.
You were not entirely sure how your first day would have gone, but it was certainly not like this.
You were sitting in a large classroom, empty desks set neatly across the floor. Well, bar for three others.
Out of the many desks that were free to take, it happened to be the one exactly in front of you. You blinked in disbelief when a towering figure in the same uniform as yours decided he wanted to block the majority of your vision, the blackboard only peeking from the sides.
You glared daggers at the boy in front of you. You could assume he was your age, a head of snow-white hair preventing you from reading anything your teacher, Masamichi Yaga, was jolting down in bold strokes.
You had seen the boy when you had initially arrived on campus, when you were heading in the direction that you believed led to the female dormitories. Due to his lanky stature, you had assumed he was a second year or higher. Other than his rather rare hair colour, you noticed that he was wearing a pair of round sunglasses. Even now, you could still see the frames peeking just above his ears. It wasn’t particularly sunny that day, so you had guessed it was something to do with his technique.
Your eyes furrowed in frustration when you watched the boy outstretch his arms in a yawn, further obscuring what little you could see.
“Um,” You started, your patience waning. “Could you potentially move somewhere else? I literally cannot see anything.”
His head turned slightly at your voice, and you nearly gasped when you saw the purest form of cerulean you had ever seen peeking from his shades. They looked to be glowing, a radiance almost intimidating enough to cower just by catching a glimpse of them.
“Huh?” He hummed nonchalantly, his posture unmoving. But by the glance of a growing smirk in his voice, you realised it was certainly on purpose.
“There are literally only four of us,” You continued, trying your best to be resolute in your tone. “There are plenty of empty seats around us. I am sure Yaga-sensi would not mind.”
The boy in front of you had almost fully turned to you at that point, a shit-eating smile on his lips. “Can you repeat that? I couldn’t quite hear what you were saying.”
If you weren’t already so irritated, you would have flicked his shoulder for him to get the message. “I want you to move, please. I am here for education, and I can only assume you are too?”
His grin widened further, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. “I already know the basics. Curse energy, a brief history of jujutsu sorcery, how to not get your ass kicked by a cur- “
“Gojo Satoru.” You heard the booming voice of your teacher from the front of the classroom. If only you could actually see him. “Please do not disrupt your peers. I would like to ensure everyone maintains cordial decorum in this room.”
The boy – Gojo Satoru, obnoxiously stuck his tongue out at your growing annoyance before turning his head back, making no indication he was going to move.
You sighed, accepting your fate while you tried to write as many notes as you could. Your eyes lingered on your notebook as the boy’s name swirled around in your head. Gojo. He was from one of the three major clans. But where had you heard of that name before?
Your eyes widened when you remembered one of the many conversations held between your father and other clans, spoken in hushed, disquieted whispers as if they were afraid someone was listening in. A boy around your age who beheld the Six Eyes, the first in 400 years. A god among sorcerers.
A technique rather similar to your own in principle, but much more potent, much more devastating. You felt chills run down your spine, your writing halting as you observed the boy in front of you once more. The boy who, from birth, held a bounty so unconceivably high it would allow any family to live comfortably for many years to come. A birth that had seemingly altered the trajectory of the non-sorcery and sorcery worlds alike. Those eyes that saw right through you, they had to be something borderline supernatural. You were sure he was looking at you now, even without facing you.
You tried not to overthink it.
The rest of the day had gone by in a blur. You first became acquainted with the two other first years when class had ended, purposely avoiding Gojo every step of the way. Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko, both of whom had descended from non-sorcerer families, were nice enough to you. Their eyes had lit up in faint recognition of the Eida clan, but you were not one for formalities. Both of them had possessed techniques that were not commonly seen, especially Geto’s.
“Curse manipulation?” You raised an eyebrow, surprise evident. “Are you sure you’re not related to any clan at all? Even distantly?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Geto had replied, his sleek black hair done in a neat bun. He had a frame similar to Gojo’s, but, to you anyway, carried a much kinder cadence to him. “My parents only know the barebones of Jujutsu. When my technique first manifested, they could not figure out what was happening when I saw a huge, malformed fly buzzing around me.”
You chucked at that, trying to imagine the scene. “I suspect they still do not see curses, then? Must be strange, having a technique all around spirits that most do not see.”
“You get around it.” Geto had summoned one of his curses as a demonstration, the aforementioned fly that you guessed would’ve ranked lower than a grade 4 if it could. “If we do any missions together, I would like to ask you not to exorcise them too quickly. I would like to absorb them if I can.”
“How do you absorb them?” Ieiri asked, watching the unmoving fly in the sort of interest you would expect from a biology student about to dissect a frog.
“I eat them,” Geto said candidly, as if that was the most casual thing ever. “I concentrate all of their cursed energy into a ball that I can consume.”
You unconsciously pulled a face at that, earning a chuckle from the boy. “That cannot be tasty. All that negative emotion pulled into a little thing. Do you have to take mints or something after? Or put hot sauce to mask the taste? I do not think I want to have curse-breath in the morning.”
“I just like to get it over with quickly.” Geto had reabsorbed the fly curse at that point, his violet eyes glancing towards it as he did so. At least he did not have to re-eat them when he wanted to put them away.
“How does your technique work?” Ieiri turned to face you, regarding you with keen curiosity, though she was not looking at you like she wanted to take out your guts with a satchel. “I understood your clan to be one of academics, but I am assuming you are not here primarily for theory?”
You weren’t sure how to respond to that, because, yes, you already had most of the history of Jujutsu hammered into your brain the moment you could read, but you did not want to seem like a show-off, especially to peers with no century-long ties to the world of curses. “I have an abnormally high amount of curse energy for my clan. Enough to use our technique for combat. It is hard to explain, but the idea is to make tears to access pockets in space others cannot reach.”
“Like a portal?” Geto queried, a finger reaching his chin in thought. You could already tell he was mulling over the plethora of science fiction he may have read or watched somewhere. “Or a little pocket dimension?”
“We can use it as a pocket dimension. That is typically the limit for the members in my clan who have inherited it,” You tried explaining in a way that didn’t sound like a lecture, recalling the countless times your ability has been told to you. “It allows us to store all sorts of information. Books, scripture, the like. Our overarching objective over the past millennia has been to store, or otherwise preserve, the way of Jujutsu. Not a lot of sorcerers fortunately live to adulthood, clans rise and fall, so we record as much as we can.”
The two students nodded in tandem, their expressions taking in your explanation. You could tell in the way Geto was gazing that he was assessing the ways in which your techniques could synergise, which of his how-many curses would be best at ensuring a successful mission. You couldn’t help but smile at that; you were not even a day in, and he was already strategising on how to be a good sorcerer. You, in turn, were doing much the same, but you admit that you had not crossed paths with a lot of curses.
You three ended your conversation soon after that, the sun casting amber streaks across the smiling horizon. You now had free time to explore the campus in all its glory, which, to your surprise, was a lot larger than you thought. For the amount of space there was, there weren’t many staff or students to be seen.
That was until you spot him.
Gojo was still wearing his sunglasses despite the welcoming of dusk. He was exploring the schoolgrounds just as you were, his expression unreadable from your vantage point. He was a few floors below you, observing something in the distance you can’t quite catch.
You tried to ignore him, looking away to walk off your unease that he may know of your presence. You haven’t had the chance to visit the dojos yet, and you wondered how extensive the school library and archives were. You were certain they wouldn’t match the atheneum that was your clan’s shared pocket of the space in between. You likely already knew most of what you would be taught in first year or maybe the year after that, but perhaps you should-
“It’s rude not to have introduced yourself yet!” A voice abruptly called from your side.
You jumped in alarm, your legs keeling over from surprise. Gojo Satoru was suddenly right in your face, which was strange considering he was literally two minutes of running distance at best, and you knew you were not that absent-minded.
“I- you blocked my view in class!” You retorted as you recovered, reeling from the shock of your life. Now that he was facing you, you could see the details of his face a lot clearer. Despite the sunglasses, you could still nearly see how absurdly blue his eyes were. Even now, they were creeping you out, especially since he had your undivided attention.
“We both know you already know all that crap.” He merely responded, yet somehow feigning innocence. He put his hands in the pockets of his uniform, his body slightly looming over yours. He was at that awkward stage of puberty where his features had not quite grown into his height. If you hadn’t already been so thoroughly spooked, you would’ve thrown your own sardonic comment right at him.
“But I still did not wish to have my vision entirely blocked, especially when I want to make a good impression.” You said instead, biting back the bitterness in your voice. You did not mean to act so flippantly to the so-called Honoured one, but you wanted to make a point about respecting your wish to have class, whether you had known everything or not. “Besides, it seems that you already know my name.”
“There are four of us. It’s not that hard to remember.” He deadpanned, jumping onto the guardrails. You watched in bewilderment as he balanced himself with one foot. If you did not know any better, you would think he was being reckless. “I do not hear of your clan that often. You guys’ recluses or something?”
“We just prefer to keep to ourselves, it’s all. We do not have as much pull as you or the other major clans do; we prefer it that way.” You were watching him as he walked across the guardrail as if on a tightrope. You did not know the exact details of his technique, but if the near omnipotence of the Six Eyes were true, you would not be surprised if he were only hovering right above the rails, only to irk you.
As if to answer your question, Gojo had determined he was now bored, and instead of showing off his acrobatics to you, he was suddenly, again, right in front of your personal space, in a blink, much too quick to be simply from jumping off.
“All I am saying is that I didn’t know you guys had the fighting spirit,” he said. You could feel his intense gaze peering down onto you, calculating. It felt as if he was perceiving you from every angle. He likely was. “From what I’ve heard, your clan’s technique is some weird distant branch of mine, just without all the finer details of manipulating spacetime and all.”
You blinked, unsure how to respond. His tone was not harsh, just matter-of-fact. Was he asking why you wanted to be a sorcerer in his own way?
“I showed promise when I was younger. I have more curse energy than the typical member of my clan,” You repeated what you had told Geto and Ieiri from earlier that day, but you no longer could fully hold in your ire. You had already been asked a similar question by Yaga before you enrolled, but you were not quite ready to reveal all your cards to a fellow student. Let alone Gojo. “While I agree our techniques are drawn from similar origins, they do not manifest the same way. We do not have Infinity, nor do we have a ‘copy’ of it. We can purely open rifts in space. That’s it.”
Your answer obviously did not satisfy Gojo as he noticeably deflated, disappointment coating his features. He already knew what you had told him, and he was hoping he could easily pry a couple of Eida secrets from you.
You were taught too well for that.
Your own features softened at that. You hoped you were not too brash with your answer. You knew your clan was secretive since days past, and you knew the major clans wanted to know more, but you were not going to be the one to break that streak. And yet, you did not want to start any bad blood, especially not on the first day, and not with the apparent strongest sorcerer to be.
“Gojo,” You started, and you realised it was the first time you had referred to him by name. “It is nearly dinner soon. Maybe once I have some food in my stomach, I can better answer some of your questions.”
With that, a bright smile rose on his face. It suited him far better, you thought. He trailed behind you as you both walked over to the canteen, and when you noticed Geto and Ieiri already seated on one of the tables, you sauntered off to join them.
That night, you learned of how much of a sweet tooth Gojo had. As you were still enjoying your food, genuinely stunned by how shockingly good the school’s food was, you watched a hand from the corner of your eye snatch the wagashi off your tray.
“Better to ask for forgiveness.” He stated cheerfully, his voice singsong. He had already eaten most of your mochi before you could bother to give him a half-hearted glare.