Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kento almost doesn't go with Ijichi to pick up Itadori.

There's no real reason to, for one thing. Itadori had informed Ijichi that Yoshino Junpei hadn't seen the culprit behind the corpses at the movie theater and that he'd only just started to see curses in general, so there was no threat of the boy himself. And Ijichi is more than capable of fetching a fifteen year old boy from an apartment complex, no matter what Ijichi might believe Kento thinks of his abilities.

But he goes anyway. He's not sure why he climbs in the car right after Ieiri patches him up, except that there's a tension inside him after fighting the patchface curse that he can't quite will away. He's being paranoid, he knows, but it's easier to climb in the car and prove his paranoia wrong than it is to ignore it. 

"You're coming too," Ijichi asks, nervously surprised. "Didn't Ieiri suggest a meal and some rest?"

Kento isn't unaware of his own reputation, so it's with a little bit of internal amusement that he mutters, "both of which I will seek to acquire after I see that we successfully retrieve Itadori."

Ijichi freezes, probably feeling scolded, and then scrambles to turn on the car. Kento slumps into the car seat and hides a smile by pursing his lips. He's not fond of scaring anyone unnecessarily, least of all someone genuinely trying their best like Ijichi, but it does save him from admitting his rather ridiculous fear that the near-indestructible teenager they've been tasked to watch has gotten into trouble. 

However his fear seems a little less ridiculous as they pull into a street parking spot outside the apartment complex. It's only a split second glimpse of a shadow, but Kento's sure of it - someone is lurking on a nearby roof. And while there are probably hundreds of innocent, innocuous things one can do on a roof at night, Kento knows somehow that something is wrong. 

"Itadori said to text him and he'd come down," Ijichi says after he puts the car in park and puts on the hazards, just in case. He reaches for his phone in the cupholder, but before he can pick it up Kento already has the door unlocked and open. 

"No need," he says with a tone that’s aiming to be as reassuring as possible. Ijichi has always been nervous and easily startled - it's why he made such a bad match for the role of sorcerer, even though it's the one he wanted the most. "I'll go fetch him. The apartments have nameplates, don't they?"

Whatever Ijichi tries to sputter out in response is lost in the sharp sound of the car door closing. From there the home of the Yoshinos isn't difficult to find, in part due to the mailboxes in the lobby being helpfully labeled with family names and apartment numbers but also because Itadori gives off the sensation of something terrifying lurking under the surface even now that he’s got his cursed energy output trained to a subtle, almost deceptive level. 

Itadori’s energy always feels like the stillness of a barely frozen lake where something prehistoric and terrible thrives just beneath the surface. It’s so at odds with the boy’s demeanor, his bounding energy and bright, easy smile. Kento thinks it’s extremely unfair for such a boy to be saddled with such a responsibility and he’s been trying to think of a way to tentatively soften his initial impression as someone who doesn’t care whether or not Itadori has a future. 

Kento’s reaching up to knock on the door still half-caught in his thoughts about Itadori and his potential when he feels a flicker of cursed energy. It’s both familiar and not, hidden but oddly strong. His gut lurches and his heart stops, just for a moment, because it feels not unlike the energy Kento had felt when he helped retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers a few years ago. 

His knock on the door is more aggressive than he means it to be, solely because there’s a portion of his brain that’s currently panicking. 

There’s no way that was one of Sukuna’s fingers, Kento tells himself sternly. There’s especially no way it’s currently in the same apartment as Itadori Yuji.

Voices sound out on the other side of the door, one loud and familiar, the other two muddled and foreign. When the door opens Itadori’s standing just behind their previous suspect Yoshino Junpei, mouth open in surprise. Behind both of them, shuffling forward with hazy eyes and a blanket falling off her shoulders, is what Kento assumes to be Yoshino Nagi, the boy’s mother. 

And unfortunately with the door open it’s unmistakable - somewhere in the apartment is one of Sukuna’s fingers. 

Kento resists the urge to swear and merely tips his head forward in a shallow nod. “Hello,” he says, as friendly as he’s able. “I’m here to pick up Itadori. May I come in?”

Confusion flickers over Itadori’s face, like he hadn’t possibly expected Kento to want to come in, let alone pick him up. Over the other boy’s face is a shadow of suspicion, a wall going up as his shoulders bunch up an inch or two. Yoshino Nagi, however, brightens, surging forward with a burst of energy that’s almost enough to sharpen her eyes to a normal level of clarity.

The woman’s cheeks are a little flushed, her gait a little unsteady. Kento wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been drinking during dinner with the two boys, though she doesn’t seem too out of it from his observations so far. Probably tipsy, probably exhausted, though the combination of those two things don’t do anything to dampen the smile she sends his way now. 

“Of course, of course,” she says, gesturing with a wave of her hand that sends the blanket clinging to her shoulders sliding to the ground. She scoots past Itadori, nudging him toward the living room and away from the front hall, and then snags her son’s shirt to pull him back as well. “Come in! Are you Itadori’s father?”

There would be nothing wrong with being Itadori’s father, because even after only spending a few days with him he’s shown himself to be kind and bright. Still, though, Kento can’t help but grimace. Itadori, meanwhile, falls back onto the couch with a laugh. 

“No, Yoshino-san,” the boy says, grinning brightly. Kento almost steps in, to try and smooth things over so that he doesn’t have to admit he’s on his own, but Itadori barrels on before he can, declaring, “this is Nanamin! He works with my school.”

Yoshino Nagi shoulders bounce as she giggles, shooting Kento a look out of the corner of her eyes that seems to say Nanamin? Embarrassment would be a silly thing to feel, because Nanamin is hardly the worst nickname he’s ever been saddled with, and in truth he doesn’t feel embarrassed. However there is still a feeling inside him that is currently working to heat up his chest, one very much like embarrassment as it threatens to make him flush like he used to as a child. Likely it’s affection for the boy currently in his care, but Kento pushes it aside for now, unable to address it at this moment. 

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself, pretending as if Itadori hasn’t spoken. “Itadori’s teacher is currently busy, so I’ve been tasked with keeping an eye on him. I hope he hasn’t been a bother.”

The woman laughs again, this time louder and starkly more vibrant. “No, no, he’s been the opposite of a bother,” she assures him immediately. She’s still pulling her son by the back of his shirt and the disgruntled boy is shuffling backwards as reluctantly as possible with the expression of a wet cat. Kento resists the urge to snort, because there’s no reason to upset him any more than his presence already has. The boy falls onto the couch cushion next to Itadori and slumps there, defeated by his mother’s insistence but obviously not happy about it. “He’s been a delight, I’m so glad Junpei brought him home!”

Itadori beams, brightening up so thoroughly at the comment that some of the sharpness leaves the other teenager’s expression. Yoshino Junpei turns his head and glances at Itadori, something flickering across his face that might be wonder or might be longing. Kento looks away from it as politely and unobtrusively as possible, making an effort to peer around the home as naturally as he can. 

It’s not hard to fake interest in his surroundings. The apartment is simple and on the smaller side, but well kept and neatly decorated. There aren’t any photos on the wall, but there are several pieces of art to break up the impersonal feeling of the white paint. Kento would be inclined to call it a nice place to call home, except that as he turns his head there’s something that flickers in the corner of his vision, dark and writhing with power. 

There’s a curse in this house, one oddly adept at hiding. And for whatever reason, it has one of Sukuna’s fingers. 

The urge to swear rises up once more like a tide in Kento’s chest. This definitely counts as overtime, but it’s the kind of overtime he’s the least equipped to deal with. He smothers the helpless feeling growing in his lungs by accepting the offer of a drink from Yoshino Nagi and taking a seat on one of the couches.

On the other couch Itadori coaxes Yoshino Junpei into laughing by nudging his elbow into his side and whispering something in his ear. The dark haired boy laughs like he’s not used to doing such a thing, hair falling across his face with the motion of his body. 

There’s a glimpse of something in that moment that Kento doesn’t think he was supposed to see. He chooses to look away instead of questioning it, but he knows what's been seen can't be forgotten.

By the time they leave they’ve definitely overstayed their welcome, the hour long past midnight and inching ever closer to dawn instead. Yoshino Nagi insists on walking them to the front lobby, the action of which makes her son grimace with the kind of teenaged embarrassment Kento remembers well. 

“Mom,” the boy whines, forcibly trying to lower the woman's arm from where she's happily waving them off. “Just- stop waving already, will you? You just met them and you’re being embarrassing.”

His mother laughs but reluctantly stops waving goodbye, which makes Itadori laugh as well. Kento bites the inside of his mouth on a smile and, rather rashly, makes a decision. 

“It’s been a pleasure to meet the two of you,” Kento says, bowing shallowly at the waist as he says it. The teenager stiffens while his mother smiles wide enough to crease the corners of her eyes. Kento straightens, trying not to laugh when he realizes Itadori, for whatever reason, had decided to bow with him. And then he adds, “Yoshino-kun, if you’d like, you could apply for our school.”

Kento says it knowing he has very little authority to make such an offer. He says it without knowing the extent of the boy’s curse energy and he says it knowing full well that if Yoshino Junpei joins Jujutsu High it will without a doubt ruin his life. Kento's not Gojo - he can’t sweep these kids up and spin them around with tales of being crazed and powerful until they want it. But Yoshino Junpei is a quiet boy with obvious potential. He hasn’t been to school in weeks for reasons Kento only has vague suspicions about. He watched Itadori put on his shoes to leave like a boy preparing himself for death’s row, like if he could, he’d stop everything and live in this bubble of a moment forever. For all his protests that Itadori and Kento have to leave, Kento doesn’t believe for a second that the teenager actually wants them gone. 

He’s lonely, that much is easy to tell. And while it’s underhanded and utterly manipulative to offer a lonely child a place in a terrible world that they will regret joining while knowing that they’ll grasp it with both hands rather than being alone, Kento does it anyway. 

It’s the boy’s choice, he tells himself. If he says no, Kento won’t push it. But he’d hate to walk away and leave this door closed forever, especially since it seems like there are already other forces in motion trying to bring the boy into their terrible, regrettable world. 

Yoshino Junpei blinks, mouth falling open and eyes going wide. “I- what,” he asks incredulously. It’s not quite a stutter but it does come out soft with surprise. If Kento were Gojo, he would likely grin at the sound and pounce, but thankfully Kento is not Gojo. Kento just stands there and waits. 

The boy’s mother blinks in surprise. “Your school,” she repeats, a furrow appearing between her eyebrows. “You said it was a religious school, wasn’t it? Junpei, are you interested in that kind of thing?”

Before the boy in question can answer, Itadori erupts, unable to contain whatever he’s likely feeling for even a second. He lurches forward, his hands reaching out to grab at Kento’s arm. Kento lets him, oddly touched by the boy’s hands-on nature. 

“Really, Nanamin,” the boy cries. His face is split with visceral excitement, which shines like a light out of his eyes. Despite the horrors that he’s faced, despite the fact that he knows first hand how curses can hurt and maim and kill, he’s still excited at the prospect of his new friend joining them. It’s charming and also vaguely sad. “Are you serious?! Junpei could join us?!”

Itadori is stronger than he looks, so strong it’s almost difficult to speak as the boy shakes him in what is probably meant to be a gentle manner. 

“If that’s what Yoshino-kun would like,” Kento answers, the words coming out with a wobble he can’t help. He tries to emphasize the fact that it’s the boy’s choice, not anyone else’s, and he thinks Itadori picks up on that, if the dampening of his delighted mood is any indication. Feeling bad for raining on his parade, Kento reaches up and ruffles Itadori’s hair, smiling at the way the boy gasps and goes stock still under his palm. 

“You’re the best, Nanamin,” Itadori yells. He bursts forward, throwing his arms around Kento’s middle before he can do anything to stop the motion, but it’s over before Kento can begin trying to process what to do next. The teenager pulls away and descends on his friend with the same enthusiasm, slapping both hands down on Yoshino Junpei’s shoulders and crying out, “Junpei! C’mon, what do you say? Wanna go to school with me and be a sorcerer?!”

Kento almost facepalms. Yoshino Nagi had looked confused but intrigued by the offer for her son to go to a barely known religious school, but now she just looks straight up baffled. She turns her head to look at Kento, blinking rapidly as she repeats, “sorcerer?”

A grimace tugs at Kento’s lips, but it’s an easy enough and unfortunately believable lie to tell when he says, “their teacher is eccentric. He thought sorcerers was a cute name for his students and it’s unfortunately stuck.”

Itadori manages to look abashed for all of three seconds before he’s back to focusing all of his attention and excitement on the other boy and no one else. “Well,” Itadori asks, shaking him by his shoulders. Kento can practically hear the other boy’s brain rattling around in his skull. “Junpei!! Answer me!”

Yoshino Junpei looks overwhelmed, a feeling Kento can only sympathize with. Trying to intervene he reaches forward, ready and willing to pry Itadori away from the other boy by force if necessary, but before he can the dark haired boy lifts his hands, curling them almost shyly around Itadori’s wrists. 

“Would you want me there,” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dark and serious. His bangs shift across his forehead again, the shadow of something that’s not really Kento’s business barely visible. The boy peers at Itadori, searching for something in his face, and after a second his fingers tighten visibly on Itadori’s wrists. “Would you really want me at your school?”

Itadori, bless him, looks like he doesn’t understand where the question could possibly be coming from. He leans forward, looking for a second like he might knock his forehead into the other boy’s, and then says, “well, duh. I wouldn’t have shouted out the question if I didn’t want you there, Junpei, sheesh.”

Something cracks across the other boy’s face, something wrenched open and difficult to look at. Even his mother glances away, looking to Kento with something that’s not quite a plea. The lobby around them is quiet, which makes it easy to hear how the boy swallows before he speaks. 

“Can I- Can I think about it,” he asks. Yoshino Junpei looks from Itadori to Kento, like he expects the offer to be rescinded at any moment. “Do I have to decide right now?”

Kento feels his heart clench and does everything he can to put that feeling aside. “Of course you don’t, Yoshino-kun,” he says, doing his best to look as reassuring and solid as possible. “You can take as much time as you need and ask as many questions as you want. It’s a big decision to make and no one would want you to make it lightly.”

Kento’s phone buzzes in his pocket, inaudible but easily felt against his leg. He breathes in and out, relief rushing through him when there’s only one text. This time when he smiles it comes easier. 

“Come on, Itadori,” he says, reaching forward to gently tug at the boy’s hood. Itadori makes a noise of abstract despair, but lets himself be pulled from his friend. It would be comical in any other situation but in this it only comes off as vaguely endearing. “It’s long since passed curfew at the school.”

Itadori scrunches up his nose and looks almost offended at the suggestion that he's to blame for this oversight. “Only part of that’s my fault,” he argues, though he leans into Kento’s side as he obediently shuffles closer following Kento’s second tug on his hood. “You were the one who wanted to sit down and talk to Yoshino-san, Nanamin!”

Kento opens his mouth to admit, as gracefully and painlessly as possible, that some of the blame does lie with him, but before he can a thought visibly strikes Itadori. He freezes and then jolts forward, leaning into Kento’s space with his lower lip stuck out and his eyes blown wide.

“Nanamin,” Itadori says slowly. Kento thinks his voice is supposed to be sweet or possibly pleading, but it sounds too much like Gojo to come across as anything but alarming. A handful of weeks with the boy as his student and he’s already left unbearable marks on their impressionable young charge. Kento is as disgusted as he is impressed. “Nanamin, I’m not doing anything specific tomorrow, am I?”

Kento can see where this is going, but Itadori Yuji has puppy dog eyes more compelling than any actual puppy dog Kento has ever run into in his life. He takes a deep breath in through his mouth and then holds it before breathing it out as evenly as possible. He’s got too much practice in facing down Gojo over the years to cave so easily and yet-

"No," he admits just as slowly. "You do not."

Itadori can probably sense victory already, because he starts vibrating like crazy. He spins around once more, arms flailing in the air, and shouts, "Junpei!! Wanna hang out tomorrow?"

The poor boy jumps like he’s been shocked, eyes going wide again. He opens his mouth and closes it, like possibly he was expecting Itadori to walk out the door and they’d never run into each other again. Kento almost wants to laugh at such an idea except it’s making his chest hurt. 

“Uh,” he says eventually. “I- sure?”

His mother snorts and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she does it. “Might as well do something other than wander around town,” she teases, reaching up to ruffle his hair. The boy yelps and tries to duck out of the way, which makes Itadori laugh in the middle of the victory dance he’s doing.

“Sweet,” Itadori crows, bright and happy. “I’ll pick you up in the morning then, okay? Bye Yoshino-san, thank you for dinner! See you tomorrow, Junpei!!”

And with that Itadori gives one last whoop, turns on his heels, and shouts, “c’mon, Nanamin! Let’s go home!”

The boy charges out of the apartment building lobby like a stampede of puppies. Yoshino Nagi laughs hard enough to choke as her son gives Kento a cautious nod and then forcibly herds his mother back to the elevator. 

Kento allows himself one moment to nod back, even as he suppresses a smile. He follows Itadori at a more reasonable pace, pulling out his phone as he does so.

From: Ino
Got it! Taking it back to the school now. Good distraction in the lobby, you bought me plenty of time. But what the fuck was it doing in there? These people important?

Kento takes a deep breath in and lets it out, feeling lighter as he does. He taps out I have no idea, but thank you, Ino and pretends he doesn’t see the younger man send back a starry eyed emoji along with a crying emoji. He looks up as he slides his phone back in his pocket and snorts.

Itadori’s already in the car, sticking his entire upper body out of the rolled down back window. 

“Come on, Nanamin,” he whisper-yells, probably trying to be respectful of the late hour and failing miserably. “Ijichi said you haven’t eaten, so we’re picking up take out on our way home!”

A warmth fills Kento’s chest, just a little. He bites back a smile by faking a sigh and shaking his head at the boy’s enthusiasm. As he nears he plants his hand on the top of Itadori’s head and pushes, swallowing back a snort as he tumbles out of sight.

One day there will be someone you cannot save, Kento thinks as he climbs in the car to the sound of Itadori whining dramatically, so much so that it makes Ijichi laugh. One day that will be a reality you will have to face. 

But if I can put that day off, I will.

“Buckle up, Itadori,” Kento says out loud as he climbs in the car. “And please stop whining, you’re beginning to sound like Gojo.”

Itadori makes an oof, harsh Nanamin remark under his breath at the comparison, but hoists himself upright to buckle in obediently. The rest of the night, what little of it is left, is thankfully uneventful for everyone involved.

-

For some reason that Junpei can't articulate, he agrees to apply to Jujutsu High. 

Maybe it's because it's something different to do. Maybe it’s because of his mom’s aquarium-ocean speech. Maybe it's because he hasn't seen Mahito since the afternoon he met Itadori and he's bored. Maybe - and this is the most likely answer - it's because Itadori makes him want to try. 

So far the only downside to this decision besides his mom's bizarre insistence that she moves so she can be closer to the campus is that someone has to go to his current high school for the transfer information. 

His mom had offered to do it, but she would have had to take an afternoon off work. Nanami had similarly extended an offer to go as a representative of Jujutsu High, but Junpei hadn't wanted to accept that offer either. When Itadori had bumped their shoulders together at the little restaurant his mom had dragged them all out to so that they could celebrate his decision, he hadn't been able to say no a third time.

So here they are, on one of their walks around town, only this one has a destination in mind. Junpei can feel himself grow more and more uneasy the closer they get to campus, which Itadori has absolutely noticed. Junpei can tell because the other boy has launched into yet another story about his classmate, Fushiguro, in an attempt to distract Junpei, this one about how their adventures cooking together had gone. 

"I swear to god," Itadori says, laughing maniacally a little in the back of his throat as he talks in a way that's somehow a perfect fit with the fond expression on his face. "Every time I'd be like hey, dude, you wanna make dinner with me Fushiguro would, like, narrow his eyes at me and go-"

Itadori's voice drops low, likely in an imitation of his classmate. When he speaks though there's so much warmth and laughter lurking there that Junpei thinks the imitation probably isn't anywhere close to the boy it’s supposed to be. Just a gut feeling, but one he’s almost positive is correct. 

"Can we put some ginger in it? And I'd be like dude! You and ginger, man, but sure, whatever, I can get behind this vibe. So now I’ve got, like, thirty recipe tabs open on my phone waiting to try with him, but I keep finding more. At this rate I’m gonna have a whole year’s worth of recipes before I see him next.”

Despite the nerves that are wreaking havoc with his system Junpei can’t help but laugh. After a second he asks, “do you have any other classmates besides Fushiguro?”

Itadori blinks, like the question surprises him. His cheeks go plink and he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, shoulders hunching as he laughs. After a moment he eases up, nodding before he says, “just one, Kugisaki. She’s, like- she’s hard to describe. I’m pretty sure any description I gave her would get my ass kicked, but she’s really fun! She doesn’t like to get up early, so she never really has breakfast with us, and she only eats dinner with us occasionally, because I think she video calls her friend back home. Or maybe it’s her grandma? She’s always really vague about it, but she was even more excited to be in Tokyo than I was.”

There’s so much to unpack about that description, part of which is how Itadori doesn’t seem to want to give a description for fear of retribution, but the bit that catches Junpei’s attention most is-

“You only have two classmates,” he asks, eyebrows arching. Itadori blinks back at him for a moment, so nonplussed that when he shrugs Junpei almost stumbles. 

“I only had two classmates, yeah,” Itadori says, smiling brightly. “But since you’re joining us I have three now!”

Oh okay, Junpei thinks to himself. He’s still reeling from the idea that there will only be four of them, which sounds both oddly comforting and utterly intimidating. Especially since Itadori barely described Kugisaki and if anything has over-described Fushiguro. Still though, the way Itadori’s still smiling at the reminder that Junpei’s joining them makes his chest flood with sticky warmth.

He’s so distracted by that warmth he almost misses it when Itadori goes, “oh, dude, I think we’re here.”

Junpei jolts to a stop just outside the entrance gate, shoulders stiffening. The school doesn’t look any different than it did a few weeks ago when he stopped attending and there’s really nothing to be afraid of now with four of five main antagonists dead, but Junpei still doesn’t want to go any closer.

Itadori’s shoulder bumps into his. It’s a gentle nudge, more of a reminder that Junpei isn’t alone than a cry for attention. Junpei’s first impression of Itadori Yuji had been that he was too loud and bright and absurd for his own good, but what he’s learned over the last week or so is that Itadori, more often than not, is very quiet, and calm, and gentle. He’s only loud to fill silences other people don’t want. It’s something Junpei’s been coming to rely on, more and more as they hang out, and right now it becomes even more apparent.

“Ugh,” Junpei says eventually. They’ve been standing at the gate for maybe a minute, possibly more. He can’t see anyone in the windows facing them, which feels weird, but it’s a relief too. He’s sure they would have been noticed by now otherwise. “Let’s get this over with.”

Itadori nods, shoulder still pressed against Junpei’s, and only moves forward when Junpei does. “Sounds like a plan,” Itadori says, putting on a game face that’s ridiculously endearing. It’s comical, almost, how tough Itadori does not appear to be, in his pink t-shirt with his second-favorite blue hoodie tied around his waist. He’d said that morning that he had snuck into his dorm to try and find his favorite yellow one, but it hadn’t been anywhere in sight. 

Junpei hadn’t bothered to ask why Itadori had snuck into his own dorm like a criminal, but he kind of wants to ask now. If only to have Itadori’s chatter filling the air around them like a barrier. 

The front hall that they step into is quiet and empty, which makes sense since they’ve come in the middle of a class period. It only begins to get odd when they stick their heads into the front office and realize it’s empty as well.

“Uh,” Itadori says, face scrunching up. “I’m gonna assume this isn’t normal?”

Junpei almost asks what kind of high school Itadori went to before Jujutsu High if he has to ask a stupid question like that, but he doesn’t. He’s got a feeling crawling up his spine, one almost like dread, and it’s with trepidation that he leans over the desk to check the calendar taped to its surface.

“Fuck,” he spits. “There’s an assembly today. They won’t be back for-”

Itadori goes stiff at the same time that the creepy-crawly dread feeling going up and down Junpei’s spine turns into an ice cold alarm. The other boy whirls around on his heels, head craning toward the direction Junpei knows the gymnasium to be, and then swears. He takes off running without another word, bolting like some kind of racehorse bred purely for speed. Junpei hasn’t run since middle school maybe, back when gym was mandatory and his gym teacher hated him, but he does his best to follow even as his chest immediately starts to ache.

But they don’t get very far into the school or very close to the gym at all before Mahito appears.

“Hel~lo,” Mahito trills, smiling so widely it looks like it hurts. For a second as Junpei skids to a stop next to Itadori, arms pinwheeling and chest heaving, he’s almost relieved. 

Oh, he thinks to himself as he leans against Itadori’s shoulder. It’s just Mahito.

And then the screaming starts in the gymnasium, loud enough that it echoes through the halls to them like an audio track from a horror movie. 

Junpei jerks his head toward the sound, not sure for a second what’s going on, but Itadori’s faster on the uptake. Before Junpei can brace himself there’s movement in the corner of his eye, leaving him with barely a second where he can think oh, what was that before Itadori’s got an arm around him hauling him away. 

Mahito’s hand swipes through the place where Junpei was just standing. He feels his heart lurch a second after that registers, because it doesn’t make sense. Mahito tried to touch him? Why would he-

Itadori shouts before that thought finishes, something that sounds garbled in Junpei’s ears, and then they’re running. Junpei’s barely on his own feet, hand clutched in Itadori’s as the other boy pulls him forward. He doesn’t know where they’re going and he doesn’t know why they’re running, except that he does, he does because they’re running away and they’re doing that because Mahito just tried to touch him. Which means- 

Oh god. Mahito just tried to kill him, didn’t he? 

They thunder up a couple of sets of stairs, all but fall down the hall, tumbling down another set of stairs as Junpei’s head spins. He’s the one most familiar with the school, but even he doesn’t know where they are right now, just that when they slam to a stop against the wall there’s no one else around them and the screaming from the gymnasium is quieter, easier to pretend away. 

Junpei collapses with a wheeze that doesn't do anything to curb the fire that’s taken over his lungs. He feels Itadori curl down around him, protective and gentle, and his ribs feel like they’re constricting around his heart with the way they ache inside of him. 

He picks up his head, gasping and panting, and jolts. Itadori’s looking down the hall, eyebrows bent over his eyes, mouth twisted in a fierce scowl. He’s looking back toward the gymnasium, back toward the screaming, back toward where they ran into Mahito. There’s something going on with Itadori’s face, some train of thought that Junpei almost feels like he can understand, and then the boy sighs.

“God, Nanamin’s gonna kill me,” he mutters, shaking his head. In one quick motion he pulls back from where he’s curled around Junpei and takes two strides over to one of the windows. They’re on the ground floor and the windows are broad and reinforced, but it barely seems like it as Itadori’s leg whips up and glass goes flying. 

“What the fuck,” Junpei yelps, though he realizes a second later that Itadori’s standing in between him and the glass shards as they fall, still protecting him. He scrambles to his feet, surges forward to make sure Itadori’s okay, but he’s interrupted before he can. 

Itadori gives the window one more kick, this time as close to the window sill as possible, sending glass shards flying across the grass. There’s almost nothing connected to the very bottom of the window now, just empty air, and Junpei has a split second where he sees where this is going before it happens. 

“C’mon,” Itadori says, already reaching for him. “You’ve gotta get outta here, man.”

Junpei jumps backward reflexively, out of the other boy’s reach. He’s shaking, either with fear or fury, he doesn’t know which. He feels sick and stupid and very, very small. He doesn’t want to leave Itadori here and that must be obvious on his face, because Itadori’s fierce expression softens.

This time when Itadori reaches for him, it’s gentle and slow. Junpei can’t bring himself to avoid it a second time, leaning forward as Itadori grabs his hands and squeezes them before he cradles them between their bodies. 

“Junpei,” Itadori says, voice pitched low but kind. He smiles, crooked in the corner of his mouth, and the aching feeling in Junpei’s chest gets worse. “Please. Let me get you out of here.”

Junpei swallows. He wants to say come with me, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to say let me stay, but he almost tries to make the words come out anyway. Instead he just stands there, hands trembling in Itadori’s and only manages to force himself to ask, “why?”

Something heartbreaking flickers over the lines of Itadori’s face. He looks, for one fleeting moment, like he might cry. But when he speaks his voice is strong and sure, filling Junpei with the feeling that things might turn out okay.

“Because you’re my friend, Junpei,” Itadori says, like it’s that easy. The corner of his mouth pulls up in a lopsided boyish smile. Junpei’s heart nearly stops, especially when the other boy continues with, “I want to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

Junpei feels his whole body flush with heat. He swallows, heart hammering in his chest, but before he can respond in kind, before he can say you’re my friend too, why shouldn’t you be safe, there’s a tittering, grating laugh that rings out down the hall. 

“Oh dear,” Mahito’s voice chirps, unsettling to such a degree that Junpei feels himself seize Itadori’s hands in a panic that he can’t control one bit. “Now, now, who said you could do this, Itadori-kun? Junpei was my toy first~”

Everything that happens next moves like a scene in a movie. Itadori yanks Junpei close, whirls to hoist him up on the window sill, and then shoves his phone in his hand.

“Go,” Itadori yells, his face losing its gentle kindness until he looks fierce and terrifying once more. He steadies Junpei’s precarious perch, hands like brands against his ribcage, and then hisses, “run Junpei, as far and as fast as you can! Call Nanamin and tell him Patchface is here!”

Junpei almost asks Patchface?, almost fists his hands in Itadori’s t-shirt so he can’t disappear, but then Itadori smiles at him, just a split second of the boy’s natural warmth rearing its head, and Junpei finds himself nodding. 

He tumbles out the window as gracelessly as is probably possible, somehow avoiding the glass littered everywhere. Mahito’s laughter gets louder, more crazed, and Itadori shouts you can do it, Junpei! before he dashes out of sight, back toward the sound of the curse’s voice. 

Junpei takes a shaky, uneven breath, and then he bolts toward the entrance to the school grounds and to the street beyond for all he’s worth.

He makes it without running into any of Mahito’s transformed human-curses. He makes it, actually, without running into anyone at all. It’s almost anticlimactic, or it would be if his hands weren’t shaking and his heart wasn’t trying to run itself into the ground inside his chest. 

He expects those things to ease up once he’s safe. He expects his heart rate to slow and expects his hands to stop shaking, but neither happens. Instead he can still hear Itadori’s words ringing in his head, as clearly as if he’s still shouting them in Junpei’s face.

Itadori’s hands had been warm in his. Warm and strong and gentle, like the hands of someone who coaxed skittish neighborhood cats into letting them pet them, like the hands of someone who helped old ladies bring in their groceries.

Like the hands of someone who was good, and pure, and willing to do anything it took to keep people safe.

Everyone in this fucking school was a stranger to Itadori, but he didn’t seem to care. He’d just shoved his phone in Junpei’s hands, pushed him through the window he’d broken himself, and shouted one last encouragement before he’d taken off at top speed toward the sound of the maniacal laughter floating toward them.

From outside the weird barrier that’s up it’s hard to tell anything’s wrong. There’s a shimmer in the air, faint and opaque, and that’s all. Just the school lying behind it, just as Junpei left it when he stopped showing up for class. It’s hard to believe that everyone in it is facing an almost certain death, Itadori included. 

Stay put, Nanami had told him sternly over the phone, once Junpei had collapsed on the safety of the far side of the street and forced his shaky fingers to dial the man’s number in Itadori’s phone. You did a good job getting out and calling me, but I’ll take it from here. Just stay safe and whatever you do, don’t go back in for Itadori. He’s tougher than he seems and he can handle himself. 

Staying put and staying safe sound like easy enough requests. They are, in fact, what Junpei would like to do. He would like nothing more than to stay put and stay safe, especially if it means he doesn’t have to look Mahito in the face and think, oh, I was so stupid.

Oh, I was a toy to you, wasn’t I?

But Junpei’s staring at the school, the one he hates with every fiber in his being, the one he attended day after day just for everyone to look the other way as he suffered at the hands of a group of complete and total assholes. Those assholes would have deserved a fate like this, Junpei thinks as he stares at it and he can’t bring himself to feel bad for the thought.

But they’re already dead, save for one. They’re not in the school, with its barrier and whatever curse monsters are roaming around in it, with the deranged laughter bouncing around the halls and the screaming coming from the gym. Almost everyone who took an active, terrible part in his torment has already been killed by Mahito’s hand, and the odds of the one pretentious fuck who’s left being the only one to die is absurdly small.

Everyone who’s left now is someone who looked away, or never noticed, or-

Or Itadori.

Hey, Junpei had said, kicking his feet as he and Itadori had wandered around town the day after they met. There’d been another man with them, trailing them at the distance of a few disinterested feet, kind of like a babysitter who knew his job was a thinly veiled punishment. What do sorcerers do, other than exorcise curses?

Itadori had made a humming noise in the back of his throat, which had been punctuated with a slurping sound from the drink they’d gotten at the vending machine they’d passed earlier. Well, he’d started, that’s kind of, like, subjective? Nanamin would probably say that there isn’t really a whole lot to the job besides that, because he’s, like, super cool. And Gojo-sensei would probably say that being awesome and totally amazing is what sorcerers do when they’re not exorcising curses. But-

Itadori had paused and this time there had been no hum or slurp of his beverage to punctuate it. There’d only been a smile, small and somewhat bittersweet, before the boy had continued, stating, but I think a sorcerer’s job is, like, only ten percent exorcising curses.

Junpei had blinked at him, not sure at all how that was supposed to answer his question. What’s the other ninety percent then, he’d asked, playing with the empty wrapper of his vending machine candy bar. Getting maimed and dying miserably?

Itadori hadn’t laughed. Junpei had kind of expected him to, because the boy hadn’t seemed to be put off by most things that other people found morbid. But Itadori hadn’t laughed, just pursed his lips for a moment and ducked his chin to stare at their feet for a second as they wandered. 

When he’d lifted it again, he almost looked like a different person. His eyebrows had been furrowed, his eyes bright like there was a fire burning within. 

Saving people, Itadori had said quietly. I think the other ninety percent of a sorcerer’s job is saving people.

Behind them their babysitter sorcerer had snorted sharply, a noise that was so distinctively dismissive Junpei had been able to imagine the expression that was likely going with it. Itadori had clenched his jaw, but hadn’t turned back to acknowledge the sound. 

At the time Junpei had agreed with that snort. But now he’s staring at the school through the barrier, fists clenched and shaking at his sides, and he’s thinking about how Itadori Yuji had looked so determined, both a week ago and only a few minutes ago as they parted. 

“Stay put,” Junpei says out loud. He’s staring at the school, at the main entrance. He knows that the entrance to the gym, where everyone is probably gathered for the assembly, is just around the corner. He could reach it in a minute if he ran, two or three if he walked cautiously. 

But there’s no reason to do that. No one in that building besides Itadori has ever shown him any kindness and Nanami had said Itadori could handle himself. 

Junpei stares at the school. He stares at the goddamn fucking school and he thinks about the recurring trope that pops up sometimes in all those movies that he likes to watch, where the quiet, bullied kid goes back for his shitty classmates when they’re in danger. Horror movies and action movies have those kinds of scenes the most. The bullied kid always bursts in, sometimes in tears, sometimes half dead already, and all the people who have wronged him gather around and cry about how sorry they are for what they’ve done. 

It’s so stupid. Junpei’s always found it stupid, even before he started to be the target of such ruthless harassment. But despite the ice chilling fear that’s still got a hold of his spine, despite the fact that he was explicitly told not to go back into the school, Junpei finds himself shoving Itadori’s phone in his pocket and lurching forward anyway. 

“Idiot,” Junpei breathes as the barrier lets him through. “Idiot,” he repeats louder, gasping for breath already as he bolts toward the far left side of the school building, around where the gymnasium door is. He’s stupid, so fucking stupid, because he’s risking his life like this and he’s almost assuredly going to die if Mahito or one of his transformed humans are still around, but-

Saving people, Junpei hears Itadori say in his head. And then, like a jarring overlay of sound in a badly cut and dubbed movie, Junpei! C’mon, what do you say? Wanna go to school with me and be a sorcerer?!

There’s a steel pipe jammed between the door handles to the gymnasium, which is an oddly human and easily fixed way to keep the doors shut from the outside. Junpei doesn’t stop to think about it as he hits the door with his full body weight, unable to slow himself from his desperate run, and he feels the way bodies on the other side slam into it as well. He can hear the screams, the panicked cries and shouting, and it’s terrifying and heart wrenching, even if these are people who never gave a shit about him in his life. 

He grabs at the steel pipe, hands shaking and sweating, and rips it free. The doors burst open like a dam splitting down the middle, but the flood of people never comes. 

The people crowded up against where the door used to stand all stare at him, bug eyed and witless with fear and uncertainty. In the mess of bodies, right at the front, is his stupid teacher who assumed Junpei had been friends with his tormentors. 

But it only crosses his mind to wish the man had been stuck elsewhere in the building later. Right now, in the moment, Junpei cups his hands around his mouth and just yells, “come on! This way, hurry, we have to get out of here!”

It’s an unoriginal thing to yell. The exact phrasing has probably been in countless movies with these types of scenes. But Junpei doesn’t care. He’s barely even thinking of such things right now. Nearby there’s an inhuman noise trying to make itself come out of the throat of someone who had probably once been human and that’s enough to jar the crowd into movement. 

Junpei turns on his heel and scrambles to lead the way. His former schoolmates and teachers follow hot on his heels without a single word of gratitude.

Fifteen minutes later everyone’s still bunched into a massive huddle of hysterical tears and trauma. No one’s made any move to approach him as he hangs on the fringes of this mass, which is relief. But that means it’s extra startling when a man in a suit manages to slink up and tap Junpei on the shoulder, clearing his throat as he does so. 

The tap makes him jump and nearly makes him scream too. He’s been clutching Itadori’s phone in his hand, hoping for it to ring, hoping for the boy himself to come barrelling out of the barrier, grinning and whole, but neither of these things have happened yet. It feels like it’s been ages since Junpei freed everyone from the gymnasium - he doesn’t know how long a fight between a curse and a sorcerer should last, but this feels almost too long. Everything inside of him is screaming that something’s gone wrong, but he’s trying not to listen to that feeling. 

“Excuse me,” the man in the suit says as Junpei whirls around, his voice pitched low, either to be polite or to hide his own nerves. He’s wearing square framed glasses, which he pushes up his nose, only for them to fall right back down. He shifts nervously, which makes Junpei want to shift too. “Yoshino Junpei, correct?”

The prickling sensation of being watched sinks into the back of his neck. Junpei’s almost positive it’s his teacher, but he doesn’t want to turn his head and look. He nods, short and jerky. “That’s me,” he answers quietly. 

The man in the suit nearly deflates with obvious relief. “Thank god,” he mutters, low enough that Junpei’s probably not supposed to hear it. Louder, he says, “I’m Ijichi Kiyotaka, I work as an assistant in conjecture with, uh-” The man lowers his voice again, eyes shifting around. He finishes in a whisper that has Junpei leaning forward, “jujutsu sorcerers. Nanami asked me to come pick you up.”

Hope surges through Junpei’s chest so violently that he sways. His tongue feels heavy and tied into knots in his mouth when he tries to speak and he stumbles over his words in his rush to ask, “Nanami-san called you?! Does that mean- Itadori, is he-”

A smile tugs at the corners of Ijichi’s lips, one that makes Junpei’s knees want to give out with a sudden rush of relief. The man’s words almost make him fall over entirely when he says, “Itadori Yuji is okay. A little battered, but he seems to have a penchant for these kinds of things. The original barrier’s already fallen, but I put up a second one until we could confirm that the school is cleared of curses.”

The second half of the information is almost entirely lost on Junpei, because his head’s too busy ringing with Itadori Yuji is okay. He swallows, fighting back the ridiculous urge to burst into tears, and spits out, “can we go see them?”

Ijichi purses his lips. He looks torn for a moment, eyes darting from side to side, before he seems to steel himself. He gives a short but determined nod. 

“I was supposed to take you straight to the school, but-”

Ijichi doesn’t have to finish his sentence from there. As soon as he dips his head to one side and starts moving, Junpei’s doing the same. And if someone in the crowd shouts his name, tone tinged in concern and surprise, Junpei doesn’t care enough to listen. 

Junpei just surges forward, ducks through the barrier on Ijichi’s heels, and once he sees Itadori sitting in a heap against the wall around the corner, he breaks into a run again. He must say Itadori’s name, must shout it or scream it, because the boy’s head snaps up to look at him as he pushes his abused legs to their limit once more.

“Junpei,” Itadori shouts, alarm and relief taking up equal portions of his voice as it rings out between them. Beside the boy Nanami crouches, bloodied but alive. He tips his head to the side as if bemused to see Junpei, something that Junpei only half-registers.

Junpei doesn’t have any chance to process anything but Itadori, arms open before him from where he’s sprawled on the ground. He just trips and crashes down into Itadori’s chest, knocks them both bodily into the wall of the school building, and holds on as tight as he can. 

-

Gojo Satoru is in a mood.

Kento probably wouldn’t have noticed except that he’s known Gojo for nearly twelve years and picking up on patterns and their divergent inconsistencies is what he used to do for a living. Granted it used to be all about financial numbers, but Gojo isn’t quite the enigma he likely thinks he is and therefore it’s easy for Kento to tell the instant the other man throws himself down on the opposite chair that Gojo Satoru is in a mood.

This only becomes more clear as Gojo starts babbling about viral videos and stale onigiri. He’s antsy, Kento thinks, either about reintroducing Itadori to the jujutsu world or about the possible outcome of the exchange event with the Kyoto school. One of these options is more likely, but Gojo has always had a nasty competitive streak in him that likes to rear its head in the most inconvenient of moments. 

During their school days when Gojo participated in the exchange event himself, the average time for one of the day-long matches was about four minutes. It was almost unfair to watch the Kyoto students get crushed under the obnoxious combination of Gojo’s personality and power, though admittedly the first two years he wasn’t crushing them singlehandedly. But that never stopped him from gloating as if he had, grinning like the devil as he went over the top thanking the other school for coming all the way out to Tokyo for the event. He always made sure to include an equally over the top statement telling them out much he looked forward to seeing them back for another quick bout of fun again next year. 

But this doesn’t seem too terribly like one of his anxiously competitive moods. If Kento had to take a guess, he’d say Gojo’s restless and worked up over Itadori’s re-entrance to the jujutsu world, something Kento himself hasn’t stopped thinking about in days.

It’s a silly thing to worry about, in the grand scheme of things. The old bastards who run their world already tried to assassinate the teenager and it obviously didn’t stick, so what more could they possibly be worried about. Adding to that fact is that Itadori’s been growing at an unmatched pace, putting his all into training and devouring up any scrap of feedback anyone has for him like a half-starved wild dog. Anyone trying to take out Itadori Yuji these days is in for a very nasty surprise, they’ve both made sure of that. But still, the worry lingers in Kento’s heart and from the looks of it, Gojo’s as well. 

“I’ve got it,” Gojo cries as he drapes himself dramatically along his chair, determined to drag Kento into his moody whims. Kento does not want to be dragged into Gojo’s moody whims and so he doesn’t lower his newspaper an inch. “Tell me what you like about Gojo Satoru! I like everything!”

Kento almost snorts, but he manages to stop himself just in time. Instead he flips the page on his newspaper and says, “no.”

Gojo whines with his whole body like a child. He sticks his tongue out of his mouth and blows a disgusting raspberry Kento’s way, crossing his arms and huffing like he’s been utterly and absolutely wronged. The urge to snort rises in Kento again, who decided several years ago that finding Gojo’s antics vaguely amusing was the only way to save his sanity. If he got annoyed every time Gojo was childish he’d have blood pressure issues. 

“Gojo,” Kento says, in an effort to head off Gojo attempting to slide from his chair and roll around on the ground. He’s done it before and no one came out of that situation with their dignity intact. “Have you wrapped up everything with Itadori’s last mission already?”

The childish tantrum act drops off Gojo’s shoulders like it was never there. He doesn’t straighten, like anyone else might, but he goes still and serious in the span of a half-second. With the blindfold on it’s always hard to tell where, exactly, Gojo is looking, but Kento feels the weight of his gaze on him all the same.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, managing to sound lighthearted when on anyone else it might come out a weary sigh. “You didn’t tell them about the finger you found at the apartment, did you?”

Kento arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t lift his head. “No,” he says shortly. “I explained to Yoshino-san that relocation to an area monitored more closely by sorcerers might be best, but I didn’t mention the finger, either to her, her son, or Itadori. It seemed like something that would add unnecessary stress and guilt.”

The corner of Gojo’s mouth quirks up and the barest bit of tension disappears from his shoulders. “That’s why you’re the man,” Gojo says brightly. It’s just as likely to be joking as it is to be serious, but Kento takes it as a compliment because, once again, the other path ends in blood pressure medication. Still almost smiling, Gojo asks, “where’s the finger now?”

Kento raises his newspaper, just a little bit, to hide his smile. “I turned it into the warehouse. If I’d given it to you, you would have just given it to Itadori.”

Gojo scoffs, as if Kento isn’t one hundred and ten percent correct. Before the man can stage an argument on why Itadori should have been allowed to absorb another thousand year old cursed object, there’s the crashing sound of footsteps in the hall.

“Hey, Gojo-sensei,” Itadori shouts as he barrels into the room. Yoshino is being dragged behind him like a plush toy dangling from the hand of an overexcited child. Itadori looks invigorated and refreshed, nearly vibrating out of his skin. In comparison Yoshino looks like he’s barely slept and that the only thing keeping him on his feet is Itadori’s hand clamped around his wrist. 

Kento finds himself smiling despite the volume, pulling down his newspaper a little to give Itadori his attention. Itadori seems to notice his presence at the same moment, waving in grand motions with his free arm. “Nanamin, you’re here too!”

Kento arches an eyebrow, quietly amused. “I am. Good morning Itadori, good morning Yoshino.”

Itadori makes a noise that can likely only be heard and understood by dogs. Yoshino turns tired eyes toward Kento and mutters, “good morning, Nanami-san. Is that coffee?”

This time Kento doesn’t bother to keep himself from snorting. “It is,” he says, reaching out to lift his mug up in a salute to the boy. Gojo tries to sing-song something that might be Yo-shi-no-kun! You don’t need coffee, you’re so young and spry! but Kento talks over him, asking, “are you having difficulties sleeping in your new room?”

Itadori makes a noise in the back of his throat and turns red. Yoshino rolls his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitches when he explains, “not normally, no. Itadori just kept blowing up my phone all night because he was too excited to sleep.”

Itadori flails both hands, one of which he’s still using to hold Yoshino captive. Yoshino lets the other boy move his limb like a doll with the expression of one young and-

Oh no. With the expression of one young and vaguely smitten. 

Kento is not paid enough to deal with teenage crushes. He pretends he hasn’t seen such a thing with the intensity of someone trying to will the clock to move in an office building on Friday afternoon. He contemplates lifting his newspaper again or trying to make tell me this isn’t happening eye contact with Gojo, but he doesn't. Even if Gojo humored him with the illusion of eye contact, he’d likely only use this as an opportunity to tease and it is entirely too early in the morning for that kind of thing.

“I said I was sorry, Junpei,” Itadori cries, still moving his hands about erratically. “I’m just- I’m just really excited to see everyone!”

Gojo laughs, something that sounds genuine. He claps his hands together like he’s caught up in Itadori’s excitement, though Kento has a feeling that’s less genuine and more scheming. “Well, do you have a plan then?”

Itadori freezes, Yoshino’s arm still held aloft. His whole body twitches with confusion. “A plan,” he echoes, eyebrows furrowing. 

Oh no, Kento thinks. Gojo frowns back, his blindfold covering any furrow that might be trying to appear between his eyes. 

“What,” Gojo says, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms. “Are you just going to stroll up to them and say hi? Where’s the fun in coming back from the dead if you can’t concoct the perfect reunion scene?”

Kento’s in the process of rolling his eyes when he sees Yoshino stiffen. He pauses, tuning out the sound of Itadori replying, and narrows his eyes at the other boy, who’s eyes have gone wide. Yoshino’s mouth drops open as his whole face twists up in confusion and under the racket that Gojo and Itadori are making Kento watches the boy mouth dead?

“Gojo,” Kento interrupts. He has to clear his throat and say it again, louder, nearly yelling as he calls, “Gojo.”

Gojo stops mid-sentence on what is unfortunately a supposed fool-proof plan to have everyone in a laughing-crying fit that somehow is going to fix global warming. Kento tries not to think about it too much, because just the concept makes him want to take a deep breath. The other man’s head turns Kento’s way and just by the purse of his lips Kento knows Gojo is expecting him to rain on his parade.

But there are more pressing concerns to address. 

“Gojo,” Kento repeats again, “did you explain to Yoshino why Itadori was hiding away to train on his own for the past two months?”

Nobody answers. In fact, nobody even moves. Kento stares at Gojo, who stares back, while Itadori’s eyes bug out in his head. Yoshino’s lips move again, mouthing dead? once more. 

Kento sighs. 

“Gojo,” he grits out, attempting to keep his cool. “Did you expect Itadori to explain it?”

“Uh,” Itadori whispers quietly. “Should I have?”

Before Gojo can answer that and Kento can attempt to argue back against whatever he says, Yoshino interrupts with, “did you fake your death?! Oh god. Oh god, that explains so much about that conversation.”

Itadori looks embarrassed, uncomfortable, and confused. “What conversation,” he asks, eyebrows furrowing once more. He looks vaguely like a kicked puppy. Kento feels bad just witnessing it. “And I didn’t- I didn’t fake my death. I, um. I did die. But Gojo-sensei said I needed to hide for a little while so I could train, so-”

Yoshino manages to look even more horrified. Gojo opens his mouth again, like he’s going to interject and make it worse, but before he can the boy bites out, “so no one outside this room knew?”

Kento is a grown man and therefore able to resist the urge to put his head in his hands and cry. “Ijichi knows and the woman who was slated to do his autopsy is aware,” he explains as calmly as he’s able. “But otherwise, no. It’s been a secret kept for two months.”

Yoshino makes a face, nose scrunching up as he grimaces. Very quietly, he corrects, “a month and twenty-eight days.”

For one long moment Kento doesn’t quite understand what that statement is meant to imply. Gojo, unfortunately, figures it out seconds before it clicks. 

“Yoshino,” Gojo says, so seriously both Yoshino and Itadori jolt in place. His face isn’t quite a thundercloud of doom, but his sharp smile certainly gives out that vibe. Kento feels rather sorry for the boys, who twist around to almost-cower before the other man. “Who did you tell?”

Itadori opens his mouth, likely to try and defend Yoshino from Gojo’s suddenly icy tone, but Yoshino just straightens his spine and says, “Fushiguro. Just Fushiguro. I ran into him in the dorms while I was moving in.”

Kento isn’t sure the teenagers can feel it, but the sudden tension in the room deflates to nearly nothing. “Oh,” Gojo says, bright and cheery. Both Yoshino and Itadori eye the man cautiously, like they’re not sure they can trust that tone. Smart of them to do so. “Just Fushiguro? Kugisaki wasn’t there too?”

Yoshino narrows his eyes a little. “No,” he answers slowly. “I- it was pretty late. Fushiguro heard me walking around and stuck his head out of the kitchen. He hadn’t been told I was moving in, so he asked who I was and what I was doing. I, uh-”

Yoshino goes a little pink in the face. Kento once again is faced with Yoshino’s possible crush as the boy glances quickly to his side, eying Itadori. The flustered teenager takes a deep breath and says in a rush, “I told him Itadori saved me and that I was going to be joining their class. Fushiguro asked if my admission to the school had been delayed and I didn’t really understand what he was talking about. Then he said, they probably sat on it for a couple of weeks, the bastards. I don’t remember you from any of our early missions though, so when did he save you? and I told him it was, like, two weeks ago.”

There’s a pregnant pause after that last sentence, one that hangs in the air above all of their heads. Kento thinks of Megumi and has to close his eyes for a moment as he imagines what the poor boy’s face must have looked like that night.

“Oh boy,” Gojo says suddenly, still bright as he punctures that uncomfortable silence with absolutely no tact. Kento opens his eyes to see Gojo’s grinning, though something about it looks strained. “Two days ago, you said?”

Yoshino nods. Itadori looks between his friend and his teacher, wide eyed and surprised. Quietly, with a voice that trembles very faintly with emotion, Itadori says, “Fushiguro knows?”

Kento blinks. He studies Itadori’s face almost against his will, reminded suddenly of how many times Itadori has mentioned Megumi. He can think of at least a dozen individual occurrences just in the last few days. Kento hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, because he likes Megumi - for a kid partially raised by Gojo he’s turned out level headed and quietly kind. 

Oh dear lord, he finds himself thinking as he tries to piece together the vaguely moody Megumi he knows with Itadori’s current starstruck face. Oh dear lord, this can’t be happening. 

Gojo laughs before Kento can even begin to process his new suspicion that there is more than one teenage crush running rampant around this conversation. The man contorts his body so he can tuck his hands behind his head, laidback and easy, and declares carelessly, “appears so! At least this explains the texts I’ve been getting.”

Itadori looks torn between crying and clawing Gojo’s phone from whichever pocket he has it in. “Texts,” he asks, finally dropping Yoshino’s wrist so that he can grab the back of Gojo’s chair instead. His fingers dig into the back of the leather with such force Kento almost expects it to rip. “Gojo-sensei, what texts?!”

Gojo smiles, which is meant to distract Itadori from the fact that Gojo isn’t going to answer. Kento has been present for a few of the times Megumi has lost his temper with his sort-of guardian, so he has a vague idea of what those texts must have said. Before Gojo can deflect, Kento wonders aloud, “did he threaten to turn you into dog food again?”

A twitch of the other man’s shoulders is the only confirmation Kento gets. Before Itadori can do much more than open his mouth, Gojo’s suddenly on his feet and moving. 

“Any text message I receive is my business and mine alone,” the man declares haughtily. Kento smiles, amused despite himself at the petulant tone the words carried, and in response Gojo just jerks his chin around and huffs. “Anyway! Time is wasting, Itadori, and I, for one, already acquired the cart. So let’s stop lollygagging and go, children, or we’re going to be late.”

Kento refrains from pointing out that they’re already late. He also refrains from asking about the cart. He simply watches as Gojo grabs the back of Itadori’s uniform shirt and hauls him up and away like an unruly kitten. 

“Come along, Yoshino-kun,” Gojo sing-songs over his shoulder as Itadori dangles, already too used to this kind of treatment to do much more than whine Gojo-sensei, put me down! “There’s room in the cart for you as well!”

Yoshino watches Gojo haul Itadori off for a moment before he turns to Kento. Kento pities the boy a little, solely for the utterly overwhelmed look on his face.

“If you don’t hurry, he’ll be back to carry you like that as well,” Kento points out. Yoshino blanches, ducking his face down against the tall collar of his new uniform like that will hide the twist of his mouth. “Here’s a few pieces of advice for you: going along with his whims is oftentime the easiest route. During introductions try to keep your head down and remember to be polite. There should be coffee in the viewing room for the event, so you will at least have that to look forward to.”

The fifteen year old boy Itadori worked so hard to save takes a deep breath in and then blows it out, rough and quick. It’s strong enough to ruffle his bangs, moving them from in front of his face for just a second. Kento isn’t sure what Ieiri had done for him, but the cigarette burn marks that had marked roughly half his forehead have shrunk and softened. Kento had first glimpsed them that first night in the family’s apartment with the curse present, but he’d been trying to ignore them as politely as possible. A few nights ago Itadori and Yoshino had come to him, asking very quietly and very awkwardly if he knew of anything that would help them despite the fact that they had all long since healed. He’d taken them straight to Ieiri.

Those marks will never disappear entirely, but now, even just a few days later, it’s already difficult to tell what they came from. Kento imagines this must have made an impact, at least a little, and feels warmed by the fact that he was able to help, even indirectly.

“Any other advice,” Yoshino asks, somewhere between sarcastic and genuinely curious. 

Kento smiles, picking his newspaper back up so that he can continue reading. “Do your best, Yoshino-kun,” he says quietly. “And if you need anything, please always feel free to reach out, alright?”

Yoshino ducks his head, but Kento still sees his smile. “Thank you, Nanami-san,” Yoshino says quietly and then he takes off down the hall after the sound of Gojo’s voice.

Just for a moment Kento closes his eyes. It’s as close to a prayer that he can get when he thinks, find reasons to keep smiling, wherever you can. 

-

The cart Gojo crams them in is barely big enough for one teenage boy, let alone two, but that doesn’t stop him. Similarly Itadori and Junpei’s protests that there is no way this reunion will go as Gojo’s planning falls on deaf ears. 

Junpei, at least, is spared from the consequences of his new schoolmates’ ire. Itadori, unfortunately, is not. 

“Isn’t this a form of bullying,” Itadori whines, pouting where he sits on top of a crate a little ways away. He’s being forced to hold a funeral picture frame up to his face while everyone tries to adjust their plan for the exchange event to fit his sudden addition. Fushiguro hasn’t said a word since he snarled at Gojo to sleep with one eye open. He’s just been staring at Itadori, eyes dark and burning with an emotion Junpei thinks he recognizes but doesn’t want to name. 

Itadori, for his part, keeps glancing back at Fushiguro, like looking away for any length of time is impossible. Like Fushiguro has a gravity about him that only Itadori feels. 

Kugisaki, their female classmate, keeps rolling her eyes whenever she catches Itadori looking at Fushiguro. The look she’d shot Junpei when she saw him watching was half-combative and half-commiserating. Part of Junpei knows what that looks supposed to mean, but the rest of him doesn’t want to acknowledge it. 

Luckily there are many distractions. 

Such as the giant talking panda, or the boy who only speaks in onigiri ingredients, or the girl with the weapon in one hand who’s scowl is almost as sharp as her blade. But the distraction Junpei least expects is Fushiguro himself, who wanders over and crouches down beside Junpei where he’s sitting against one of the walls.

“Hey,” Fushiguro says quietly. His voice is almost lost under the two arguments that appear to have sprung up in the last few seconds, one of which is between the weapon girl and the panda and one of which is between Kugisaki and Itadori. Itadori isn’t really arguing, just whining Kugisaki, I’m sorry~ in a manner that’s rather pitiful. 

Junpei swallows. “Hey,” he whispers back. He shifts, awkward and unsure, and then adds, “I didn’t know you thought he was dead.”

Smooth, Junpei thinks to himself. Real smooth.

But if Fushiguro’s put off by his awkward attempt at explaining his probably baffling and vaguely assholeish behavior from the other night, it doesn’t show. The other boy just huffs out a breath that’s not quite a laugh and not quite a scoff either before shaking his head. 

“They probably forgot to explain it to you,” Fushiguro mutters, voice thick with emotion but not unkind. He doesn’t sound surprised, just tired. Junpei can sympathize with that, especially since the other boy looks tired - bags under his eyes and a paleness to his skin that Junpei knows from his own reflection in the mirror. Expect where Junpei was always so tired because of the torment he suffered at school, Fusiguro looks so tired because-

Because he’s been grieving for Itadori. Because he thought Itadori was dead.

God, this explains his expression in the hall that night. The way Fushiguro had stared at him like he was trying to figure out where to hit him first - a rage so abrupt and devastating that when it had crumpled it on itself nothing but a hollow echo of it had been left behind. Junpei had watched the fireflash of emotion without knowing why it had happened. 

He'd watched as Fushiguro's fists balled at his side, white knuckles brushing the edges of yellow sleeves as he shook. He had watched and been unable to say anything as Fushiguro had suddenly spun on his heel and fled. The shadows down the hall had swallowed him up immediately, despite the sunshine yellow hoodie he was wearing, and Junpei hadn't been able to figure out why. 

But he knows now.

“I only found out this morning it was supposed to be a secret,” Junpei confesses quietly. He ducks his head and shrugs his shoulders, adding, “though I probably should’ve figured something was weird just by how excited he was to see you guys, considering you’ve been on the same campus the whole time.”

This time Fushiguro groans, a noise that sinks low and drags itself out. “He was on campus,” the boy spits, eyes narrowing with rage. Yoshino is oddly unbothered by such a display, probably because it’s inescapably obvious that Fushiguro isn’t mad at him. “That stupid bastard. One day I really will feed him to my shikigami.”

Junpei perks up, just a little bit. “You have shikigami,” he asks, picking up his head to watch the other boy more closely. Fushiguro nods, though his eyebrows furrow with obvious confusion at the excitement in his tone. 

“I- Gojo-sensei said I had a shikigami too,” Junpei explains hurriedly. “A jellyfish. He said something about my curse technique being poison, but I didn’t understand it very well. Itadori mentioned it too, that you’d be the best to help me figure it out. Do you- would you mind…?”

Something flickers across Fushiguro’s face, something wrenched-open and surprised. He covers it quickly, but this close together, speaking this quietly, it’s hard not to notice. It’s equally as hard not to notice the way his expression softens immediately after, or how his eyes drift, seeking out Itadori across the room. 

“Itadori said that, huh,” Fushiguro murmurs quietly. He’s almost smiling, shoulders slumping suddenly like a weight’s been lifted off him. He blinks, but doesn’t turn back to look at Junpei as he says, “yeah, I’ll help you. It’ll have to wait until after the event and I’ve never worked with a shikigami like a jellyfish, but I’ll do what I can.”

Junpei’s chest goes tight at the expression on the other boy’s face. It’s not tender, not exactly, but only because Fushiguro is likely trying to keep it from being too soft. Right now it mostly just looks like relief, and hope, and a hesitant kind of joy. 

Turning his head proves that Itadori is looking back. He could, possibly, potentially be looking at them both, but Junpei knows that’s not true. He’s known Itadori for almost three weeks now and there wasn’t a single day together that he didn’t mention Fushiguro by name, didn’t huff out a breath as he curled up on the couch mid-movie and mutter to himself, I wonder what he’s doing. 

Itadori’s looking at Fushiguro now the way people look at their streets after a long, exhausting trip. Like he’s almost home, like it’s just within reach.

It hurts to be on the outside of that look. It hurts to know that with whatever feelings Junpei has started to harbor over the past couple of weeks there’s no way they’re ever going to be more than a daydream wish. But it only hurts a little, because the feelings are still new and because looking at Itadori and Fushiguro makes it easy to see how they’ll fit together in the future, if they haven’t already started to try and fit together before they were so rudely ripped apart. 

Junpei smiles, even as it feels like his lungs shrivel up a little in his chest. He ducks his head, hiding his face against the edge of his collar, and fists his hands around all the courage he has in his heart.

“He talked about you,” Junpei tells Fushiguro as he picks his head back up, barely loud enough to be heard over Kugisaki’s shrieking. The girl’s apparently realized Itadori’s not listening to her. “Every day, he talked about you.”

Fushiguro scoffs and forces a scowl, but it’s obvious how the words affect him just from the flush that fills his cheeks. “Idiot,” he mutters, jerking his head away so that he isn’t looking at Itadori any more. He mutters something else, something that might be, stupid idiot, stupid bastard, I can’t believe he’s been on campus this whole time, can’t believe he could’ve caught me stealing his hoodie, god this is stupid, but Junpei probably isn’t supposed to hear that part. Either way it only makes Junpei smile more, something Fushiguro seems to realize, because his eyes narrow and his mouth puckers in a sour expression. 

Junpei laughs. He isn’t expecting himself to, but he does it nonetheless. “Sorry,” Junpei apologizes quietly, when Fushiguro’s sour expression gets even more scrunched up. “Sorry, I’m not making fun of you, I swear.” He tries to sober himself up and only half succeeds, but Fushiguro doesn’t seem to really mind. He just sighs and shakes his head, eyes turning back to Itadori like whatever visual gravitational force Itadori feels for Fushiguro is mutual.

“C’mon,” Fushiguro says eventually, when it looks like the arguments around them are winding down and that they might actually have to get up so everyone can get ready for their upcoming still-unexplained-in-full event. The other boy pushes himself to his feet and then reaches back, holding out a hand to help Junpei up. “Let’s find out where Gojo’s gone. You’re watching the event with the teachers, right?”

Junpei looks up at Fushiguro and thinks, just for a second, that he can understand what Itadori probably sees in him. Then he reaches up to let the other boy pull him to his feet and nods. 

“Yeah,” Junpei says. “Nanami-san said there’d be coffee.”

Fushiguro lifts him to his feet easily, not even a grunt to go with the effort it takes to lift another mostly-grown boy. Junpei is both impressed and envious. He wants to be able to do that to people too. Meanwhile Fushiguro arches an eyebrow and echoes, “coffee?”

Junpei fakes a sigh and explains, “Itadori was texting me all night because he was too excited about seeing you guys to sleep. It felt mean to mute him, so I ended up hardly sleeping.”

Fushiguro blinks at him for a second before laughing. It seems to startle him, his own laughter, and similarly it seems to startle the room as a whole. Everyone turns to look at Fushiguro laughs, eyebrows arches and mouths open in surprise. 

There’s only one person who’s too busy looking smitten to be surprised and that’s Itadori. Junpei watches him look at Fushiguro like Fushiguro’s laughter holds within it the same bright and clean feeling as the first sunrise of the year. It’s so heartfelt and cheesy, as if he has literal hearts in his eyes, that Junpei is reminded of all the ways people in movies look at their romantic interests as the climax of the movie comes and goes. He bites his tongue to keep from snorting and politely pretends he doesn’t notice. 

Yeah, he thinks to himself as everyone starts talking at once, wanting to know what’s so funny. Everyone except Kugisaki, who’s faking a gag even as relief shines bright in her eyes. That ship has definitely sailed. 

By the time Gojo shows up to fetch Junpei by hauling him up by the back of his shirt like he did to Itadori earlier, the room has dissolved into shouting once more. Junpei’s watching it all happen with a smile, smothering laughter into his hand as Itadori tries to hide behind Fushiguro’s shoulder to escape Kugisaki’s aggressive tirade.

“Told you that you’d fit right in, kid,” Gojo announces cheerfully. It sounds like it doesn’t wind him at all to hold Junpei out to one side like a handbag and Junpei finds himself thinking again I want to be this strong. 

Junpei snorts. “No you didn’t,” he points out, letting himself dangle even if it’s the least dignified thing he’s probably ever done. “Itadori said that and Nanami-san agreed. You said that the spot of Jujutsu High’s resident emo kid was already taken, so I’d have to dye my hair and find a sense of humor.”

The boy with the high collar and the bizarre vocabulary is close enough to hear Junpei say that. He snickers, shoulders shaking as he turns to peer at Gojo in a clear got you there, sensei~ way that has Gojo sighing dramatically and shaking Junpei side to side in his grip. 

“Kids these days,” Gojo complains with faux distress, turning to carry Junpei out of the building. The second years and the rest of Junpei’s new classmates trail behind them, laughing as the onigiri boy somehow manages to relay the jab at their teacher to the rest without saying anything more than pickled plums. “There’s no respect in the lot of you, none at all! It’s times like these that I miss Yuuta the most.”

The girl with the weapon still slung over her shoulder snorts. “Why miss him,” she says, smirking in a way that’s more cutting than any blade Junpei’s ever seen. “Yuuta didn’t respect you either, you know.”

Gojo wails, the degree of his agony almost definitely exaggerated as the rest of the group redoubles in their laughter. Junpei can’t help but join in, even if he doesn’t know who Yuuta is, because it’s impossible not to. 

I’m glad I came here, he thinks to himself. I’m glad that out of everyone that could have saved me, it was you, Itadori.

I'm glad that out of all the aquariums I could end up in, it was this one, with all of you.