[ D E V O R E R ]

“ before you ask, i didn’t threaten any of ‘em into it, ” he deflects any potential observation before it comes out, tossing the blanket over getō’s frame. “ but there’s obviously a catch. & you’ll never guess who agreed to help me just because i looked kinda miserable & they’re a bundle of regret after the star plasma vessel mission. ”

it’s not hard to guess, but he wanted to make sure he’d capture suguru’s attention & direct it to what really matters [ … ] in fact, having shared part of the secret so confidently, the strain in his fingertips has already faded into a pleasant, feathery touch. satoru opens his eyes, looks up at the ceiling, & hopes not to find any bloodstains there too. “ i’m still a student in jujutsu tech’s records, ” he explains, “ so the only reason they haven’t disowned me is because they know nothing about it yet. the principal swore on his life, or something. but he seemed apologetic, so i know he won’t pull any funny business while we settle down somewhere. ”

Perhaps Yaga believes if he'd done more, he could have saved them. Who can say. But it's too little too late. The two are set upon a new path with different ideals; returning to what once was isn't an option. “I'm surprised he didn't try to march you away. Siding with me should've earned you a one-way ticket to your clan.”

Humming, he rubs his nose into the fabric of Satoru's shirt as he completely settles and sighs. “Then I suppose it gives us a little more time. But first, I need to feed the twins — and you, of course. It's been a while since I cooked a full meal for you.” The last time they shared a meal feels like a dream. He remembers laughter, Satoru shoving various ingredients scattered around into his mouth with a boyish grin. Kisses under flickering kitchen lights 'til the darkness outside swallowed the remaining rays of sunshine, affection keeping them warm despite the cold.

The taste of food was acceptable too, lacking the bitter undertone of curses he'd grown used to — instead of hunching over a toilet, dark hair pulled back, he'd stomached it. And when it was time to turn in for the night, Satoru had climbed into bed and held him much like he did now.

It was the lightest he'd felt in months. A shame it was doomed to briefness, their new normality coming to bite the next day.

“ yep ! sounds like him. ” tension into laughter, bitter remembrance into bright delight now, satoru follows along and stops next to his classmate. “ when i got here, he tried to drag me for being late. i told him if my finger slipped and something happened to the school, there’d be no school to be late to. i was obviously talking big ‘cause he’d gotten on my ass so early on, but i really wasn’t gonna do anything. ” in whatever degree of defense gojō was entitled to, yaga must’ve already expected some sort of retaliation as he issued ultimatum after ultimatum ; the gojō clan heir wasn’t going to keep quiet in the face of confrontation.

if getō ever needed any more proof that this is indeed the white-haired brat from almost a decade ago, this must be it.

He's sure Yaga tried, of course. Just as he's certain Gojo blew him off, unbothered.

“Your… first thought when you were late was to threaten a teacher instead of apologising? You haven't changed a bit, Gojo.” A soft snort of disbelief coupled with a shake of his head, and he sets off down the stairs, smoothly moving through crowds. If there's a faint twitch of amusement pulling at his lips, Suguru tries not to let Satoru see it. “We'll add time management to the things you need to work on too.” The mental list he's building is lengthening at an alarming speed. Manners and time management. Had no one taught him better?

Maybe it's not something the Gojo clan cared for when it came to the inheritor of six-eyes.

A long finger taps his cheek as he ponders what Satoru's said, giving him a deadpan stare. “Hmm. You'd have probably destroyed half of their school by now. Or fought most of their students, if your first interaction with me is anything to go by.” More light teasing and another friendly bump to Gojo's arm. I'm glad you're here. Don't go anywhere I can't, next time.

“ hey, i wasn’t going to. ” it’s quick, a little defensive, well-intentioned as his mouth involuntarily turns to a helpless curl. far too often has he seen megumi crawl closer to his sister’s side, reluctant and scared; tsumiki herself, barely strong enough to hold him let alone the hardships that followed, fought back tears of her own with a kind of grace no child should learn. he’s about to say something too, something about how he’s done his best to raise a pair of siblings life’s been almost equally cruel to, but the faux monk’s warm exhale spreading up the shell of his ear has him swallow whatever resonating thoughts managed to build up in that short flash of self-reflection. the name isn’t overly familiar. having been raised in a practicing family, he doesn’t rule out the likelihood of having at least heard of it in passing, a brat too preoccupied with wandering off on his own on temple grounds on the first day of the new year.

Satoru keeps talking, cheeky and familiar, and Suguru's heart aches despite his laughter echoing back. How he feels complete again, the missing part of his being slotting in where it always belonged.

He knows he should stop this. Nip it in the bud whilst he can. It's too late, though, far too late. Suguru's ensnared, as enamoured as he was as a student. There's no salvation for someone who's fallen this deep. “You in general. The touch is welcome, of course.” A hand drifts down the man's side, giving his hip a faint, affectionate squeeze. “When I walked away from you that day, I meant to leave everything behind.” It's easier to take the first steps if there's nothing holding you back. The death of his parents buried the person he was, washing away beliefs once held and staining his soul black.

Walking away from Satoru was supposed to close that chapter of his life in its entirety.

Yet, Suguru clung to him regardless, holding those broken strings together in calloused hands. Love to the strong. The Gojo-kesa. Still accidentally buying Satoru's favourite sweets in the shops, even after months had passed. He's lost the last habit since — time wore it down in the end — but even now, Suguru can't help but glance their way.

not to say he doesn’t steal glances in between, noticing the infuriatingly deliberate shifting into what’s usually his spot. but he knows he should behave, if for nothing else than suguru’s sake.

Sometimes, Suguru hears him at night. Exorcising troublesome yokai scurrying around shrine grounds and in the forest surrounding them. And he worries. Worries that, despite his great strength, he'll one day find a quarry too big for him to handle. That his fake hurt, often used to garner sympathy, will become real, pain raking through his body as Suguru holds him.

Perhaps it's stupid to apply such characteristics to a creature beyond humanity's comprehension. Suguru does it anyway.

“ read on… they’ll only scream like their lives depend on it if you bother them. and you haven’t even heard them yet. ” the paradox, the absolute tongue-in-cheek retaliation. it’s now that he knows not to push his luck, to let hands grip soft knuckles in an exasperated, defeated plea and not fight back.

with the occasional threat of bad behavior, hyperion thinks the other doesn’t do it nearly enough.

A fine crease between knit eyebrows appears as he continues reading, mouth forming a firm line. “What possible use does this have?” Thoughts swarming, he mulls it over and draws zero — nothing comes to mind. Not a good sign for this particular creation, though given Hythlodaeus' proclivities, it's only a matter of time before it's accepted.

Hyperion's never low on enthusiasm and tall tales, a trait their friend finds himself far too willing to give into.

“ i won’t fall. ” a rushed, dismissive wave of his hand, as if nothing like that would ever even happen. satoru plops down on the wooden bridge across the river’s expanse, crosses his legs comfortably, and waits for the other to join him. the light and vivid colors almost make him want to bask in the sun for hours. i have too many good memories to even risk it. “ if i had a husband… ” he ventures, feigning a trace of curiosity, “ i would probably keep some things hidden from him until it was the right time, too. but no matter what you do — please don’t get azem in trouble. he’s working really hard. i think he might’ve called me part of him at one point. ”

It's resulted in some less than pleasant moments with the convocation.

Hesperus, meanwhile, adores it as much as it sometimes infuriates him. What better than a man who shows his unconditional love for you with such openness? “Get Azem in trouble? Hyperion doesn't need me for that — he brings it wherever he goes.” Fond exasperation etches itself across delicate features as he snorts, long hair fluttering in the gentle breeze.

Strolling over to where the familiar sits, Hesperus takes a seat beside him. “Part of me too, apparently.” He sees it. Purple hues trapped within blue, a mark of their adoration for each other. “Your soul has a fraction of mine in it. Weaker than the piece my husband has, yes, but I can see it,” Softly spoken, his trouble gaze unwavering, a long finger taps the centre of Satoru's chest, “and I am called to you as I am to him.” Ever a beacon through darkness and tempests, the gentle glow of his soul lights a path and guides him when he loses his way. Takes him home, to him.

It's strange that they'd share the same pull.

so he laughs now, wholeheartedly thrilled by the mental image of having some posthumous release describe all the grand things he did in excruciating detail — get it right, they’d fuss over the wording, he defeated the king of curses, not the strongest sorcerer of all time. that’s obviously the man himself. it’s all about the boyish smugness that shapes the corners of his mouth when he cackles into suguru’s chest with all the joy he couldn’t find while confined within the walls of the gojō estate, tapping getō’s shoulder as if to tell him, keep sayin’ it. you can go all out if you want.

“ guess i can’t really argue with that. i wouldn’t get away with half as much as i do. but i’m also lucky i called dibs on you before anyone else got to do it, so… ”

A conspiratorial twinkle shines in emotional lilacs, fingertip tracing the contours of Satoru's face. “Assuming they've not already realised -- I say let them figure it out. Though it depends on us not slipping up, of course.” Shoko, he assumes, has realised to some degree. Suguru's caught the strange looks shot their way when Satoru jumps into arms with reckless abandon. Nanami is no different: He's walked in on them kissing in the quietude of their classroom one sunny afternoon. Kind enough not to comment, but astute enough to raise an eyebrow when they claimed they were only practising and just best friends, he'd walked out leaving Suguru feeling mortified.

He'd quickly pulled messy hair back into a bun and dragged Satoru out after, swearing to never kiss him in there again.

Haibara, meanwhile. Well. Suguru will likely have to tell him somewhere down the line. Though he has a heart of gold, he's never been the most observant in these cases.

if she’s ever said anything like that, conveniently, she doesn’t remember it. yes, so perhaps she’s not wholly immune to a fleeting spell of hypocrisy once in a blue moon, her circumstances and the viera’s keen senses both so relentless about uncovering truths she thought she’d veiled beneath thick silk and lace ; one would have to squint to notice the slightest touch of discomposure in her expression, the smallest crease in her brow. the pestle stops within the container after a few haphazard, chaotic motions, disrupting the otherwise methodical grinding of herbs at the bottom. what exactly gave it away? you could threaten to remove the dragoon’s tongue and he would allow it before he spoke anything of it himself. she’s certain of as much.

To the stake, the fires, they'd cry. Witchdrop is too good for them. A judgement swift and brutal, both murdered for heresy.