' i see it on your face ,  you’ve had a bad day . '

“Well, how lucky for me that I’ve got you to pick me up.” 

As relaxed and blasé as his words were, his frame drooped across the lumpy cushions of the old couch in a lazy, exhausted sprawl. One blue eye peeked out from behind sunglasses jarred askew, yet the relentless searching quality of his had been momentarily dispelled.

What he could hide however, was the way it made him feel. Empathy was something he actively discouraged for fear of undue involvement. But this course of action necessitated the simultaneous neglect of his own wellbeing- not that that would in any way influence his overall design. 

Satoru. 

Now a flicker of discomfiture rose to join the cloud of emotional turbulence. When was the last time someone had spoken his name like that? 

This wasn’t fair. Not at all. 

“I’m your guardian.” He corrected with a peevish air. “I’m here to make sure you don’t get into any trouble that’ll get the both of us executed. I don’t mind teaching you, but looking after you is my responsibility in some official capacity.”

For a moment, the air between them hung with the dysrhythmic tension of their breathing, the atmosphere terse and short as a joint of blanched flesh pulled tight beneath the pricking edge of a honed blade; choleric intimacy like that between two men stood across a field with guns raised and staring each other down their respective barrels, neither willing to turn or shoot.

He conceded with an exhale, feeling all the cold numbness of a sailor adrift and deciding his life forfeit, resolving to slip beneath the waves. 

“And snarky too.” Pale strands of his hair spilled over the back of the couch as he let his head loll. His foot resumed a measured tapping- not so much restless in dismissal as it was consolation in defeat.

“Satoru Gojo going off the rails? That’d send them into conniptions for sure.”

Could he truly with any honesty deny those allegations? As unfortunate as it was, YQ seemed to have a knack when it came to unravelling him and prying into all his deepest insecurities. Damn him. He knew it too.

“You’re here because I didn’t want to kill you.” He pulled himself upright and sagged over his knees, elbows digging into his thighs. “I’ve killed more than enough people and made too many mistakes to have any excuse to not know any better by now.” 

“As for what comes after… I wasn’t thinking that far.”

the sound of an exhale escapes him —  yan qing lets out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in .  call it a close call ,  or call it pushing the envelope ,  testing the strongest sorcerer’s limits ;  whatever it was ,  would they argue like this forever ?  and was there a plausible place for him as snarker ,  precisely ?  counter-weight ,  side-prodder ,  doppelganger extraordinaire .

was gojo regretting the idea of killing him ,  then it was too late now .  just as he couldn’t flee from satoru and those damned six-eyes ,  so was satoru doomed to himself .  yan qing might have smiled ,  if he weren’t stuck as one variable of an ever-shifting equation .  one that his supposed white haired savior didn’t even have an answer to .

‘ …  so i’m just here ,  huh ? ‘

he wishes he were the one on the couch now ,  his head dropping ,  his eyes setting on the floor before he rubs the back of his head —  silk sea of black strands quietly hissing and shifting .  ‘ obviously …  i’ve given it my own thought .  about where i should go .  even if i left this place ,  it’s scary to think that a part of me’s not human anymore . ‘

how could he possibly bring himself to be comfortable again around anyone else ?  nevermind his master ,  witnessing himself in the mirror would have brought on a thick ,  viscous churn of dread and uncertainty .  fundamentally ,  he felt severed from the rest of the world ,  if not his own self :  a thing that slipped away from him so easily whilst under distress . 

What a fascinating conclusion- and yet, hardly a surprising one. YQ was the embodiment of a conflicting dichotomy; doomed to his endless search for an explanation, yet seemingly willing to resign himself to settle in the non-answer of the present day. 

“Aren’t we all? I guess some people have a sense of self importance great enough to eventually assign themselves some purpose, but that’s all in the head.”

“You should leave that long term planning to me. Who’s to say what’ll come around if you stay or if you go? You know, that’s all under the assumption that you’re some kind of cornerstone to this whole shebang.” 

For all the ways Satoru was adaptable, sincerity often fell beyond his scope. “Are you saying that you’re doing me a favour by inconveniencing me?” He barked a laugh. “I never took you to be the sort to appreciate forwardness- that is, not in a genuine sense anyways.”

YQ may have committed himself to a more serious demeanour, but Satoru had no intention in reciprocating with anything beyond a lopsided grin and a casual flick of his wrist. 

“Besides, what’s with this fixation over me? I know I’m quite the looker, but I think I’m past the age for existential crises.” Falsehood or not, these were abstract concepts so who was to say? 

“Pawn? Sure! Well-dressed or not, I guess we’re all pawns in some way or another huh?”

It didn’t take his Six-Eyes to determine that the man was something a little more than human. The way he held himself so effortlessly still without even the indication of breathing, the way he spoke in a voice with an inhuman resonance, the way his silhouette seemed simultaneously too over-sharp and effervescent... 

“That said, there’s a whole board full of pieces. There’s really no reason to stay a bottom-feeder, and it’s really not a spot that agrees with me.” Satoru ceased his deliberation and pulled back, shoulders settling into a relaxed slump as he smiled crookedly.

There was no reason for him to suspect that the other was propagating deceit in this instance, even if the names of the family and estate were entirely unfamiliar to him. Anyhow, the slew of titles and monikers struck him as overly sophisticated and ostentatious. 

Fair was fair indeed. 

“Gojo Satoru at your service!” He chirped, the address laden with cheer. Being a descendant of one of the big sorcerer families meant that he’d had a belated introduction to the world of the normal and mundane. But a decade had been more than enough to inaugurate him; nowadays, it was no less than second nature for him to spin an identity markedly less removed and farfetched from the realm of believability. 

“Says you. Are you delusional or just allergic to mirrors?”

“Well now, I can’t say that I’d make either impersonation or necromancy my first choice! That’s not quite my style, no offence.”

YQ had admittedly already gotten a little too close for comfort. He’d seen his superficial front and persisted like an insistent burrowing pest, to pry through the cracks and peer into the depths of what lay beneath. But Satoru wasn’t a monster. He couldn’t erase someone just for inadvertent intimacy, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him in turn. His best shot was to deflect until YQ grew disinterested- the stubborn rain cloud he was. 

With all that said and done, his reluctance stemmed not from a desire to obstinate. On the contrary, perhaps he would have spoken freely had he been able. But the fact of the matter was that he was sorely lacking when it came to understanding, when it came down to mustering the answers to YQ’s interrogation; the truth was that he didn’t know.

Loneliness was more than habitual at this point. He’d grown up with it as a pre-requisite, a vital component as un-negotiable as a food group- fruits, vegetables, solitude, what was the difference? It was easier by far than the latter two categories to choke down anyways. 

“Haah- what’s with you and the difficult questions today? I’m no philosopher, and I sure don’t keep you around for one-on-one therapy! Besides-” Two fingers straightened and jabbed in the direction of the other’s solar plexus. 

“What’s that to you? We were talking about you a moment ago, weren’t we? Being this nosy might get you shot, y’know!”

no offense taken ,  he thinks to say —  but the lie fails to leave his lips and he’s left squinting at the other stern and hard-browed while the sentiment sours in his mouth .  

‘ keh .  what is your style ,  then ? ‘  he keeps his stare steady and level ,  a clear gaze upwards from whatever short distance remained between them .  ‘ if you say it’s being honest ,  straightforward ,  and only relying on your brute strength as the strongest ,  then your real style’s lying . ‘

his head tilts a little ,  his expression impossible to decipher .         ‘ …  no offense ,  of course . ‘

there were parts of the other that seemed to be running away from something ,  avoiding all that it could .  parts that operated off whimsy to hide and bury a deeper sobriety :  the dark flashes of frayed exhaustion and similar evidence of a short-wick temper .  his initial happening upon the other brooding felt to be proof enough ,  as did their subtle threat and much less subtle deflections .

‘ even if i tried to practice and learn my tricks ,  you’d be able to see right through them .  it’s only fair i learn how to do the same with you .  for example ,  if you really were as invincible as you want everyone to believe ,  then i don’t understand why you would have any reason to try so hard as you do to hide yourself .  those questions ,  why are they difficult ?  because you’ve never thought about them ,  or because you feel like they don’t have a right answer ?  is the only thing you know for certain about yourself the fact that you’re the strongest ?  even then ,  how much of that is the truth ?  if someone even stronger than you appeared ,  what then ?  would you know how to live and exist as just satoru gojo ? ‘

the other’s fingers jab towards him ,  and yan qing’s gaze drops to them .  unbidden betrayal briefly flashes across his expression ,  complete with fear ,  horror —  until it steels into a firmer ,  stubborn resolve in an instant .  

He conceded with an exhale, feeling all the cold numbness of a sailor adrift and deciding his life forfeit, resolving to slip beneath the waves. 

“And snarky too.” Pale strands of his hair spilled over the back of the couch as he let his head loll. His foot resumed a measured tapping- not so much restless in dismissal as it was consolation in defeat.

“Satoru Gojo going off the rails? That’d send them into conniptions for sure.”

Could he truly with any honesty deny those allegations? As unfortunate as it was, YQ seemed to have a knack when it came to unravelling him and prying into all his deepest insecurities. Damn him. He knew it too.

“You’re here because I didn’t want to kill you.” He pulled himself upright and sagged over his knees, elbows digging into his thighs. “I’ve killed more than enough people and made too many mistakes to have any excuse to not know any better by now.” 

His gaze tracked her as she disappeared into the shadowed doorway. As she did so, he lifted a hand to enclose the perimeter in a curtain. 

Most sorcerers wouldn’t have been able to match her unbothered demeanour without a stroke of caution. Indeed, neither did his faith in her, nor her confidence in her own abilities prove false. Only half an hour from her initial disappearance, Satoru watched her make an equally unperturbed exit.

“Of course!” While he’d neglected to monitor her progress once she’d entered the building, the results were proof enough of her success. “You were my star student after all!” 

Were. Still was really, considering that all Kusakabe was doing was riding the tailcoats of his success. But he was mature enough not to hold a grudge against a fellow academic supervisor, even if the circumstances still grated marginally on his nerves.  

“Now that’s all done and dealt with…” His palms met with the resounding force of a clap. 

“What do you say to checking out those food spots I’d mentioned earlier? Dinner’s on me!“

maki’s eyebrow quirks up. “ you sure you don’t consider yuuta your start student? “ not that she was bothered by the success of other students, or their strength. yuuta was obnoxiously powerful, s-class just like gojo-sensei was. if anyone was a start student in their year, assuredly it’d be him. “ don’t try to flatter me, gojo. it’s not going to work. “

but she knew she had her own stellar record, despite the fact that her ranking was low ( thanks to her good for nothing ‘family’ ). “ unless you say that to every student, which i’m more likely to believe. “ the briefcase is picked up and held over her shoulder, as she looks back at her old teacher.

Adolescents were a difficult bunch, and Maki numbered amongst the most standoffish- reliably made all the more stubborn with perceived pity at play. But at the end of the day, kids would be kids, and Satoru had yet to come across a hungry, growing adolescent unenthused by the prospect of a free meal. 

Whatever worked. As a teacher and guardian, what more could he do but devote himself to preserving as many of these carefree years as he could?

“Watch your mouth.” 

They were made markedly more formidable in each other’s company. While it wasn’t that he needed or god forbid- relied upon Sukuna’s ( inferior ) ability by any means, Satoru had always been volatile. This was a trait which was only amplified to terrifying levels in the presence of a binding catalyst such as the one the other presented.

But this facultative complement between them was by no means equivalent to camaraderie. After all, Satoru had made it abundantly clear that he was just as likely to kill him as it suited him as he was to play into his predatory affections. 

His gaze was cold, his eyes like chips of ice and largely unreadable save for the vaguely hooded quality which only darkened his expression. He lifted a hand to wave two condemning fingers through the air. 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Though- careful, you might just make me change my mind.”

Such a stern tone and cold gaze – most would shrivel before it and the power behind it, but only the weak would become meek at the warning. Volatility marked their relationship, each prone to their own unpredictable habits and nuanced decisions. Neither would easily have fallen to a regimented strategy, and as before: strength was the only true equalizer.

Sukuna only even entertained listening to the other man simply out of respect towards his power alone, but to receive a threat masquerading as such an order didn’t mean he would listen. Authority was meaningless.

“What brand of savagery delineates the difference between man and cursed spirit, I wonder?” He would not cease talking merely because Satoru Gojo demanded it. As always, the line their conversations went along was fine indeed, threatening to tip into violence that would undoubtedly be the kind that the jujutsu world hadn’t witnessed for many a century. 

“I don’t care what you think of it all.” That much would never change; there was no conquest to impress the other sorcerer, no end goal to influence his state of mind at this time. Even if the other might’ve known about his recent foray into a subject sincerely regarded as taboo by even their own – it made no difference at this extent. Sukuna had come too far to bother to care of others’ motivations to try to kill him, as suicidal as those intents were. 

“It’s the intent that matters.” 

There weren’t many who would even consider approaching him with anything less than a cowed posture and a wavering voice. Sukuna consistently landed himself in a league of his own- walking the perilous line between amusement and insolent. 

It would only take a wayward breeze, a toe out of line or a phrase too careless to elicit Satoru’s condemnation. Yet he remained intact for all he liked to run his mouth. Indeed, perhaps his tolerance of him was both unwarranted and unwise. Challenging him would only get the other so far, and this game of theirs would end in due time- at Satoru’s hand no doubt. 

He let his feet carry him in a thoughtless track to the couch onto which he spilled, lounging with all the casual ease of a predator assured of its own standing and territory. 

“Brutality’s a cheap way to bargain for unearned respect. Anyone can kill- it’s the easiest thing in the world.’

“Huh? Why not?” He sounded genuinely bewildered, as if he were completely incapable of coming to terms with the concept that the trust of others might not automatically fall to him by default. 

“Aren’t you hungry? It’s not good to go to bed on an empty stomach you know, you won’t get a good night’s worth of sleep!”

The microwave offered up only an unhappy clatter as he set it down again, plugging it in and re-inserting the bowl of stew in a single deft movement. Beep. Beep. Bee-ep. Two minutes. Satoru squatted down and eagerly watched the bowl spin a merry orbit.

“You’re just going to have to wait and find out! Nothing beats a surprise.”

“You can be patient, can’t you? Or are you going to need an alternative source of entertainment?”