Chapter Text
The layout of the classroom was undeniably awkward. There was a teacher’s desk placed at the front of the room, set aside from the blackboard. There were four standard school desks arranged neatly in a row, just like Fushiguro had seen in photographs of modern Japanese classrooms. But the rest of the room was almost completely bare except for some cabinets and a bookshelf about thirty feet back. It was like someone had been told to build a classroom and they took the project running, no one thinking to mention that there would be half a dozen students at most.
No one else had arrived yet, so Fushiguro made his way to the desk furthest from the door. The bright morning light was filtered through the familiar, traditional screen windows and the air had a faint chalky smell to it. It was quiet enough that he thought could almost hear the sound of birdsong in the distance, but after a few moments the sound of footsteps came echoing from down the hall. There were several voices, but only one of them was loud enough so that the speaker’s words could be distinguished.
“Yeah, but don’t you think the dorm rooms are way too small! It’s like, isn’t this just a storage closet that you tried to trick us into thinking was a bedroom?”
The tall, white haired student walked into the room backwards, so intent on maintaining eye contact with his current audience. He was waving his long arms in the air to further illustrate his point, but the two students who followed him appeared skeptical, to say the least. A dark haired boy and a girl with chestnut brown hair were dressed in the same uniform as Fushiguro, though the girl wore a tight skirt and the boy’s pants fanned out into huge bell shapes at the bottom. It’d been explained to him during his solo orientation that students could make adjustments to the standard uniform, but he hadn’t really seen the point. Maybe this guy’s technique required a lot of leg movement? The two noticed Fushiguro as they walked in, but the third student’s voice drowned out any greeting they might have offered.
“I’m telling you guys, this is total power harassment,” he continued loudly, but his voice had a lilt to it, like he was trying to tell a joke. “I bet if I talk to-”
“Gojo-kun,” the dark haired boy with the strange bangs finally cut in, and nodded his head in Fushiguro’s direction.
Gojo Satoru didn’t need an introduction. Fushiguro was well acquainted with the Gojo heir’s status as the first Six Eyes in over four hundred years. His reputation as an accomplished exorcist from an unprecedented young age preceded him; but when other sorcerers described the boy, the first thing they commented on was the depth of his icy blue eyes and the gaze that left sorcerers twice his age frozen in place. He was surprised, then, to see the dark, round sunglasses covering them now.
Fushiguro gave a polite nod to the three students. It was his first time meeting other sorcerers his age outside the Zen’in compound and he hesitated momentarily, unsure of the appropriate greeting. Well, no point in overthinking it.
“Hey, I’m-”
“Zen’in-kun, right? I heard you were in our class,” Gojo cut in, and continued the prior conversation without taking a breath. “Don’t you agree that I’m right?”
Fushiguro frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Gojo turned away and continued blithely.
“See? He totally agrees! Like I was saying, what we really need to do is-”
But before anyone learned what it was they really needed to do, a thickset man with a buzzed haircut stepped through the open door and even Gojo stopped his rant for a moment as their teacher stood in front of the group. The man had a set of two shaved lines on both sides of his temple and looked more suited for a boxing ring than a high school classroom, but no one was looking at his face. All four teenagers had their eyes fixed on the pink, plush bear waddling behind him with a stack of printouts that seemed to follow after him of its own accord.
“Take your seats,” he said curtly.
The boy who had entered with Gojo gave a quick, apologetic nod in Fushiguro’s direction. The girl didn’t acknowledge him in any way other than to give him a slightly curious, appraising glance. She had seemed like she was already checked out of the conversation before they had even entered the room. Gojo slid into the seat next to Fushiguro giving him an obnoxiously large smile before turning to face the front, while Fushiguro tried to fight the grimace that was spreading across his jaw.
“I’m sure you all want to start your training as soon as possible,” the teacher started, and they all seemed to sit up a little straighter, “but before that, it’s important that you get familiar with the campus and grounds. I’m Yaga Masamichi and I’ll be the one to answer any questions.” Yaga-sensei had a deep voice and his way of speaking was blunt, but not unkind. “We’ll do introductions,” he continued, and nodded in the only female student’s direction, but Gojo’s hand immediately shot up.
“Sensei!” Gojo interjected. “Shouldn’t we pick a class representative?”
Fushiguro blinked and looked over in slight disbelief.
Is he stupid?
Yaga didn’t react other than to pinch his brow, like he was warding off an oncoming headache. There was the sense that this wasn’t his first interaction with the boy.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Gojo let out a dramatic sigh and started visibly pouting. Fushiguro could hear him mumbling something under his breath about high school anime always having a class representative, while everyone else in the classroom made a point of aggressively ignoring him. The girl was Ieiri Shoko and she had a casual way of holding herself that bordered on slouching, but her voice was calm and soothing. Fushiguro blinked in surprise when she smoothly revealed her technique to the room. He supposed if your technique was healing, there wasn’t much benefit in keeping it a secret, but he wasn’t expecting for her to share it right off the bat.
Geto Suguru was next in line and he spoke formally, affirming his interest in the jujutsu world and going as far as to espouse the importance of a sorcerer’s duties to protect the weak, fragile non-sorcerers of the world. It came off as a little bit pompous and a little bit arrogant, but mostly Fushiguro felt pity at the boy’s naiveté. He’d probably start crying if he met Naobito or Ogi. He noticed that Gojo had rolled his eyes at Geto’s introduction, but otherwise kept quiet.
When it was Gojo’s turn, he practically jumped to his feet. He really was annoyingly tall; Fushiguro had to tilt his head upward just to get a view of his face.
“Greetings fellow seekers of forbidden knowledge! Gojo Satoru here. Feel free to call me Satoru or Gojo-sama. In my free time, I like long walks on the beach, cream-filled daifuku and exorcising special grades. You’ve probably heard of me thanks to the endless gossip from jealous clan heads and petty curse users, but be sure to look out for my upcoming feature in Junon magazine.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the room, but Gojo smiled wide enough to show off all of his blindingly white teeth. Geto actually hid his face in his hands in embarrassment, while Ieiri stared on in a mixture of awe and mild disgust. Fushiguro found himself almost lost for words and could barely stop himself from physically cringing. This guy is worse than Naoya… well, no, he’s not, but still…
Gojo finally sat back down, looking to all the world as if his speech was met with rapturous applause. It was Fushiguro’s turn to introduce himself, but it took a moment for his shock to wear off. He had no idea how to follow such an act and no interest in playing the clown himself. Once it appeared that his classmates had enough time to process Gojo’s little performance, Fushiguro was up. Gritting his teeth a bit and shifting into his usual deadpan, he stood up, staring straight ahead.
“Fushiguro Megumi,” he began and then hesitated. “…I’m a summoner. I look forward to learning with you all.”
He dipped his head in a short bow and sat down to minimal fanfare, but before he could even glance to catch a reaction in his peripheral vision, the feeling of being watched hit him like a truck. It wasn’t unlike facing off against the hoard of cursed spirits in the training pit back at the compound, the sense penetrated him so deeply. As he turned to face his right, he felt the ridiculous urge to summon Fleeing Hares.
In the background, Ieiri and Geto were sharing a look of surprise mixed with slight interest at his introduction, but it barely registered. Without thinking, he locked eyes with Gojo and felt the tiniest sheen of sweat gather at his temple. The boy’s sunglasses had managed to slip down his nose and his round lips had twitched up in the corner. On another face it could have been a friendly smile, but with his electric stare, it left Gojo looking slightly feral. Fushiguro finally understood what the senior members of the clan meant when they talked in hushed whispers about Six Eyes.
“…student will be joining your class later this semester due to extenuating circumstances,” Yaga continued, Fushiguro realizing that he hadn’t heard a word their professor said. He forced his own gaze back to the front of the room, but he could sense that the other boy’s scrutiny hadn’t wavered.
“I’ll show you the grounds now.”
Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as the students filed out behind Yaga. Fushiguro kept several feet back from the group, still slightly on edge, but Gojo only stretched his arms languidly above him, exuding casual boredom. As they strolled across the grounds, the endless parade of stonework, temples and pagodas gave the appearance of being decades, if not centuries, old. They were unpleasantly familiar, but Fushiguro was comforted to find that there was plenty of natural open spaces, even a sprawling forest with wind whistling through the trees and a stream running peacefully through. More than anything, he felt a deep-seated sense of relief and almost excitement when he saw the winding staircase leading to what must have been actual, real civilization. He could count on one hand the number of times he had been allowed to leave the main house and only ever with a minimum of three attendants.
Maybe he was more distracted than he realized; he was surprised to find Ieiri had slowed her pace to match his. She didn’t speak up immediately, just calmly looked out over their shared view. The other two were walking ahead, seemingly engaged in a raucous conversation as Gojo elbowed Geto heartily in the side, with Geto clearly enjoying the camaraderie, despite his withering reaction back in the classroom. Fushiguro understood immediately why Ieiri had chosen to hang back.
“Are you interested in visiting the city, then?” she asked, after a moment.
Fushiguro shrugged.
“Not really.”
“Mm. Well, it seems like it'll be busy enough here to keep your attention,” she continued and smiled slightly as Fushiguro failed to hide the pained expression on his face.
“Did you three know each other already? You seemed used to… well,” he sort of nodded his head in the direction of the boys in front of them. They had shifted from joking laughter and now seemed to be engaged in some sort of argument, Gojo raising his voice and jabbing his finger in Geto’s face, while Geto smirked and shrugged in a mocking gesture.
“No, neither Geto-kun or I are from big jujutsu families,” she paused as if to let Fushiguro chime in, but he gave no sign of contributing. “Gojo seems like he’s just like that.”
Fushiguro and Ieiri were definitely out of earshot, but as soon as Fushiguro had nodded in his direction, it was like a sensor went off and Gojo turned in their direction, tuning out whatever Geto was saying to him and quickly turned to join the two lagging behind.
“Oh, what are we talking about?” Gojo cut in, flashing yet another bright smile. Fushiguro wondered if his jaw ever got tired.
“Not much,” Ieiri responded. “What about you two? You seem to be getting along well.”
“Oh, you know. Special grade stuff,” Gojo sent a quick smirk Fushiguro’s way and wiggled his eyes in a way that he clearly thought was mysterious and alluring. If he was hoping for a reaction, he didn’t get it. Fushiguro just stared at him, uninterested, and then turned his eyes back to the view. Gojo actually pouted. They were finishing up the tour and nearing the dormitories by now. It was only late afternoon and they hadn’t even had lessons today, but Fushiguro felt drained and was ready to be alone with a book or maybe just crash on his bed.
“You should more or less know how to get around, but if you can’t find something, you can ask,” Yaga hadn’t given any commentary or explanation up until this point, but he finally spoke up loud enough to travel across the gap. “It should go without saying that any locked buildings are off limits.” This last comment somehow seemed like it was directed to one student in particular, although he didn’t name any names. “You know where the dorms are.”
Ieiri split off from the boys with a casual wave, which left just Gojo, Geto and Fushiguro to enter the large building directly next to the classrooms.
“So, Fushiiiguro-kun! You’re a ‘summoner’, huh?”
Gojo’s question had a teasing quality to it; he was almost certainly aware of the full extent of Fushiguro’s ability, but Fushiguro just grunted in response. It had been one day and he already knew that this guy’s voice was going to be the source of a lot of headaches.
“My technique is a bit similar to yours, I think,” Geto chimed in, with the air of someone nipping an impending fight in the bud.
It wasn’t necessary. Even before Fushiguro met him, he had every intention of giving the Gojo heir as wide a berth as he could. He didn’t like that his technique now appeared to be public knowledge, wouldn’t have expected someone from outside the major clans to be familiar with Ten Shadows. He could only assume he had one white haired classmate to thank for that. Geto’s comment piqued his interest, though. He hesitated, wondering if it was really okay to be asking so bluntly about someone else’s technique; but then again, Geto started it.
“You use shikigami?”
“Not quite, but I think it’s the same basic premise. I use cursed spirit manipulation,” Geto said, his tone betraying a hint of pride. That was a surprise. “I hope we can learn a lot from each other, Fushiguro-kun.”
They had made it inside the hallway and reached a row of five evenly spaced doorways. Fushiguro hadn’t bothered to choose a room when he’d arrived, and now he was thankful for that, as it seemed his classmates had already set up in advance. Gojo waltzed into the middle room and Geto took the one directly on his right. Geto didn’t seem like he would be a terrible neighbor, but Fushiguro gratefully took the door on the far left, leaving an empty room between Gojo’s and his. It wouldn’t hurt to have some space.
The entryway with the basic amenities, sink, shower, fridge, was admittedly cramped, but it opened into a pretty spacious bedroom, with wide screen doors giving way to a view of the forest that extended behind the dorms. He scoffed as he recalled Gojo’s comments about “storage closets,” and then furrowed his brow in annoyance that he was even wasting mental energy on the guy’s antics. He stripped off his uniform jacket and sat on the edge of the bed, only to fall immediately back against the mattress and stare at the ceiling.
He’d never met someone who could channel reverse cursed energy before, and being able to use the ability on others was especially rare; he wondered if it was something Ieiri could teach others. And curse manipulation, that really was something else. Fushiguro didn’t know if Geto had been serious about reaping the benefits of their respective techniques’ supposed affinity, or if he was just trying to rein in Gojo, but either way, there was just the tiniest thrum of excitement in his chest about training with sorcerers his own age.
The flame was doused instantly when his thoughts turned to the other member of their class.
“Obviously while you’re there you need to keep a close eye on the Gojo brat.”
Fushiguro twitched in annoyance, but remained silent. He was still in his hakama and sweat was pouring down his back, heart pounding from a relentless day of training. Naobito was already deep in his cups and he paused only to take another long sip of sake. Fushiguro could smell the alcohol even while kneeling a good six feet away. He didn’t need to hear this, would have killed just to have a hot bath. Frankly, he’d take another hour in the pit over listening to Naobito’s bitter, drunken lecture.
“It’s a shame you’ll have to train with Maki… Well, at least you can show her what’s expected of a real member of the clan. Keep an eye on her, too, actually.” He let out a hearty laugh, the sound twisted by his sneer. Then he paused, as if he’d forgotten why he called Fushiguro in to begin with. “Oh yeah, Six Eyes. The whole jujutsu world’s been in an uproar ever since the brat opened up those creepy eyes. ‘Special grade.’ That’s what they call you when you’ve got too much power and too little sense to control it.”
He must have been drinking more than usual.
“Megumi.”
Fushiguro maintained eye contact.
“Show them what a real sorcerer looks like. I have great expectations for you.”
There was no praise in his words, just a cold demand for obedience.
“You’re dismissed.”
What a joke.
The fact that anyone in the Zen’in clan believed he had any loyalty to the place was laughable and he had no plans of playing into some four hundred year old rivalry. There was one reason and one reason alone that Fushiguro was attending the college, regardless of what Naobito or anyone else believed. He stewed a bit in silence before taking a deep breath and followed with a long, slow exhale. There was no point in getting frustrated. As he lay there in thought, his phone buzzed from his pocket. He pulled it out of his pants pocket and flipped the screen open. A rare, small smile touched his lips as he started to type up a response.
[4:15 P.M.] how’s your first day going? : )
[4:16 P.M.] Good. Just finished the tour.
[4:16 P.M.] do you have time to talk?
[4:17 P.M.] Sure.
The phone rang about 10 seconds after Fushiguro’s text message went through.
“Hey.”
“Megumi!” Even filled with excitement, Tsumiki’s voice still had that soft, gentle quality that she never seemed to drop. “You got a tour, what was the campus like? What’s it like back in Tokyo?”
“The campus is technically in Tokyo, but I haven’t seen any of the city since I arrived. It’s… nice here.”
“You could stand to sound more excited,” she accused, but he could hear the smile in her voice.
“Maybe. What about you? What’s the school like?”
“It’s like a dream here. It’s weird getting used to being around… other people like me.” She didn’t have to specify that she meant normal people. “It’s so different. My classmates are really interesting, I can’t wait to get to know them. I miss you.”
He knew she was exaggerating a bit for his benefit, but it was nice, anyway.
“Yeah. Tell me more about it.”
One of the great things about talking to Tsumiki was that she didn’t mind if he didn’t have much to say. She was happy to fill the silence, whether it was because he was too tired to speak after a grueling spar with Naoya or because they were stuck waiting under a temple awning, using the rain as an excuse to put off some stupid clan dinner that Ten Shadows was expected to attend. It was like she had a sixth sense for distinguishing between when he needed to just sit in silence together and when he was desperate to hear a comforting voice, even if he could never bring himself to say it. He allowed her meandering stories to wash over him as she continued to talk about whatever she could think of.
“...but what about you? What are your classmates like? Is there anyone you could be friends with, do you think?”
“Mm, there’s a girl with healing powers, I think you two would get along. And another guy who tames curses.”
Even having grown up on the compound, cursed techniques didn’t mean much to Tsumiki. The first time Fushiguro explained his technique to her, she had been thrilled and talked excitedly about Megumi’s “magic powers”. Once they started living with the Zen’in, they became dangerous things to fear and avoid. No one was foolish enough to actually use their abilities to hurt her while Fushiguro was around, but that didn’t mean there weren’t those who tried to bully her or scare her with them. When Maki got her first pair of glasses, she begrudgingly lent them to Tsumiki at Fushiguro’s request so he could summon his rabbit shikigami for her to see. It was just the three of them and Mai. Tsumiki was delighted, even though she couldn’t touch or pet them.
It wasn’t that Fushiguro wanted her to embrace the jujutsu world. Part of agreeing to come to the college was contingent on Tsumiki’s enrollment in a quiet, private all girl’s school far, far away from the compound. But maybe deep down there was something in him that wanted her to think it wasn’t all so scary. That having cursed energy didn’t mean you were destined to be like the people they grew up around.
“They both sound lovely. Did you meet Gojo-san, as well?”
Ugh.
“Yeah, I met him.”
“What’s he like?”
“He and Naoya would get along.”
“There’s no way he’s actually that bad.”
Fushiguro groaned internally. He was so not interested in having this conversation.
“He’s fine. I doubt we’ll interact much outside of classes.”
“Don’t start fights with your classmates, Megumi,” she chided.
“We’re supposed to fight our classmates.”
It was Tsumiki’s turn to groan in exasperation, but Fushiguro could hear the slight laughter hiding beneath it. Then he heard the muffled sound of a female voice calling something out over the line. He couldn’t make out the words, but Tsumiki called back and there was a simple joy in it that he only registered because it was so different from the almost constant nervousness that plagued her tone for so many years.
“Sorry, I have to go to dinner. I’m happy that you sound so relaxed.” Did he really sound that relaxed? “I think you’re going to have a lot of fun there. Let’s talk again soon, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Fushiguro flipped the phone shut and stared at the ceiling again. The sky was shifting into a burnt orange that was reflecting through the screen door. He vaguely remembered a time before their lives were thrown into chaos, before the Zen’in, when he would argue over trivial things with her; about playground fights with school bullies and who got to choose what cartoon to put on the tiny television that they crowded by, late into the night, waiting for Toji or Tsumiki’s mother to get home. Maybe in a different world, one where they had a normal childhood, they could have had that sort of easy sibling rivalry. He sometimes fantasized about what it would have been like if some stranger showed up outside their apartment to whisk them away, somewhere away from the Zen’in and gambling debts and the sound of angry neighbors yelling in the streets. He could never share that fantasy with anyone, not even Tsumiki, but he still thought about it.
Instead, Tsumiki’s mother disappeared. She was there and then she was gone. Toji stayed out later and later at the race tracks until there was a point where he wouldn’t come back for weeks at a time. They got by on microwave meals and bedtime stories that Fushiguro would read to Tsumiki out of books he took home from the school library.
When Toji finally came back, it took a while for Fushiguro to realize that he was completely plastered. For all Toji’s shortcomings as a father, he rarely got drunk in front of Megumi or Tsumiki, but that night he was barely able to keep himself upright.
“Your grandpa’s coming to pick you up tomorrow. He’s trash, but you won’t have to live in this shithole anymore.”
Tsumiki kept asking Toji to explain, didn’t understand what was going on, but she hadn’t lived with his dad as long as Fushiguro had. They weren’t going to get more of an explanation. Toji had passed out on the couch and then left before the morning without another word.
Toji was wrong.
Fushiguro’s grandfather didn’t come the next day, just two men wearing black suits and driving an expensive car that was way too wide to fit down the narrow street that they lived on. Apparently they were only interested in Megumi and had no plans to bring Tsumiki along for the ride, but he flat out refused to go without her.
The men seemed like they were considering just grabbing the boy and dragging him into their car, but before they could, an anger he had never felt before was clawing its way out of his chest.
There was no heat to it. No, if anything, it was like the temperature all around him dropped. There was a taste to the sensation that felt similar to the feeling he got when he would make shadow puppets on the wall for Tsumiki’s entertainment, but now the shadows were warping around him with a life of their own. He suddenly felt a shocking clarity of purpose and he realized he didn’t care what happened to the men in front of him, if it meant safety for his sister.
That was enough to stop the men in their tracks. Whether from fear or intrigue, they quickly agreed that Tsumiki could come along. So the two children cautiously followed the men who drove them for what seemed like hours. They finally reached what Fushiguro thought must be some sort of grand temple but was really just the foyer for the main house of the Zen’in properties.
To this day, Fushiguro wasn’t sure if they wouldn’t have been better off just making a run for it, finding some cardboard box to take shelter from the dirty streets of the slums.
Fushiguro huffed a laugh thinking once again about Gojo’s comments about the dorms being like storage closets. Gojo, the Zen’in, the clans, jujutsu society, even this school. It was all so pointless. If Gojo wanted to treat his time here like some kind of comedy routine, it didn’t make a difference to him. Fushiguro had his own plans, regardless of what Gojo or the Zen’in or anyone else might want from him.
He stupidly hadn’t eaten dinner, but he could feel his eyelids drooping and his brain felt fuzzy. He turned on his side and as he drifted to sleep he thought about Gojo’s idiotic face from his class introduction. He wondered what it would be like to live so carefree that your lips were always turned up in a goofy smile.