TWO A SECRET HISTORY

🪦

       IF THERE WAS ONE THING GOJO SATURO was sure of it was that his Six Eyes were never wrong.

       His family — well, the Gojo Clan, he didn't know if 'family' was an appropriate term — had always told him that he was special, a god among humans, all because of his innate techniques: the Six Eyes and the Limitless. He was the first person to inherit both in 400 years. They had treated him like a god, took him away from his parents because they hadn't been considered worthy, and trained him to become the most powerful sorcerer of his generation, all while isolating him from the rest of the world, not wanting him to leave Mount Olympus to mingle among mortals.

       His Six Eyes were a god-like power; they had never failed him before, and he trusted that they would never fail him in the future, because "gods never falter," as his Clan always said.

       So, when he detected an unknown cursed energy in the trees at the edge of the training grounds, hidden away from everyone except for him, he was sure that his Six Eyes had not tricked him — even if whoever had been there had disappeared the moment he turned to look in their direction. There was no trace of them left behind, no residuals to pick up on and follow. It was like they had never been there at all, yet he knew that was false — for one simple reason: Jun.

       The look on her face had sent lightning bolts through his body, worrying him. And that was unusual in itself, because, really, Satoru didn't worry about many things in his life. He just never had to — everything had always come easy for him, there had been no herculean tasks for him to overcome. Even if there had been something that could have potentially caused some worries, his clan would have taken care of it before he even became aware. But in all the time he had known Noda Jun (which, granted, wasn't that long — a little over a year), he had never seen that expression on her face.

       Jun's face was like a statue's, like it had been chiseled from stone or marble or clay — unmoving, ambiguous, immaculate. There were no faults in her complexion, no cracks in the material. Except for the occasional indents on her forehead when she was mad, or a quirk of her eyebrow when she was annoyed, or a curl of her lip when she was disgusted. The crease between her brows, deep and dark like a ravine, was new.

       And Satoru realized that he had never seen Jun genuinely afraid.

       Until now.

       Satoru studied the area where he had sensed the cursed energy, but whoever had been there had vanished between the trees, gone now. With a frown on his face, he turned back to Suguru and Shoko. They were wondering aloud what possibly could have gotten into Jun all of a sudden that would cause her to storm off like this. "Hey, did you see anyone? Like, over there?" Satoru asked, interrupting their musings, and pointed to the spot where the cursed energy had been.

       Shoko gave him a weird look. "Uh, no?"

       Suguru, too, shook his head.

       "Someone was there," Satoru stated.

       "Maybe one of the first years," Suguru suggested. Then he made a face. "What were their names again?"

       "Ikehara Mayu, Nanami Kento, and Haibara Yu," Shoko answered.

       "Right," Suguru said, nodding.

       Satoru hummed, though he knew it hadn't been any of the three. He knew their cursed energies, he would recognize them — Nanami's ratio technique, Haibara's ability to summon a shikigami, and Ikehara's mirror walking technique. No, this had been someone else, someone who knew how to disappear quickly without leaving residuals behind. Jun had felt their presence too, he was sure of it; only that would explain her sudden change in behavior and the fear carved into her face (only that would explain why she hadn't even tried to dodge his punch). Does she know something about this? he asked himself.

       "Do you think she's alright?" Suguru asked, worry dripping form his words like honey.

       "I don't know, I mean this guy" — Shoko poked Satoru's chest with her finger — "hit her pretty hard."

       Satoru rolled his eyes. "Jun can take a punch, thank you very much."

       "That's not what I meant. She seemed..." Suguru seemed to search for the right word but came up empty.

       "... Spooked?" Satoru provided.

       Suguru nodded. "Yeah."

       So he hadn't been the only one to notice it.

       Shoko twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, looking deep in thought.

       "Care to share your thoughts with the class, Shoko?" Satoru said, smirking.

       "It's nothing," Shoko replied, crossing her arms. Satoru raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her with a look. He didn't believe her; the grimace on her face that made her look like she was constipated told him that there was something on her mind. Shoko sighed. "I'm worried about her, is all. This isn't the first time I've seen her like this — something's going on but she won't tell me what. Not that I actually asked her..."

       Suguru's brows knit together. "Maybe we should ask her—"

       Satoru scoffed. "What, you think she'll tell us what's wrong? Have you met Jun?" Jun was the most guarded person Satoru had ever known, never opening up to anyone. It was like a god had cursed her, cut out her tongue to prevent her from sharing anything with anyone. Or, at least, not with him. For some reason, she couldn't fucking stand him (really, he couldn't imagine what he'd done to deserve her hatred). With Shoko or Suguru, she seemed to be closer, a little more at ease, but still...

       Suguru sighed, staring at the door through which Jun had disappeared. "You're right, she wouldn't tell us."

       "I'm always right." Satoru grinned.

       They ignored his comment, which made Satoru's grin vanish.

       Suguru moved to put his hands into the pockets of his pants, but then stopped in his movements, taking something out: Satoru's sunglasses. "Oh, here," he said, handing them to him. Satoru accepted them with a smile and put them on; immediately, the world was plunged into a more bearable light. His Six Eyes might be a blessing in a fight, but they were a curse in everyday life — they drained him, overstimulated him, and when he used them too much, the migraines he got were a real fucking pain. He let out a relieved sigh, which Suguru seemed to notice because he reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Satoru ignored the warmth coursing through his body at his best friend's touch.

       "Anyway," Shoko said. "How are your history assignments coming along?"

       Satoru froze. "Our what?"

🪦

       THE LIBRARY WAS NOT A PLACE that Satoru liked to frequent, but Suguru had dragged him here so they could work on their history assignment, and since he wasn't someone to complain (a lie), he went along without much protesting (also a lie).

       He sat at one of the tables across from Suguru, who was immersed in a book about Master Tengen, the immortal jujutsu sorcerer who reinforced the barriers protecting both the Jujutsu High locations. Satoru tried to focus on a text about the Heiran Era, yet he found his thoughts wandering to something — anything — more interesting every few seconds. Like the cursed energy he had sensed earlier. Or the fact that Jun hadn't shown up again since then. Or Digimon.

       "You should focus. The assignment's due tomorrow," Suguru said without looking up from his book.

       "What? I am focusing," Satoru countered, despite it being an obvious lie. "What makes you think I'm not focusing?"

       Now, Suguru lifted his head, an unimpressed expression adorning his face. "Maybe the fact that you're sighing — loudly — every five seconds."

       "Am not," Satoru said, indignant.

       Suguru raised an eyebrow. "Just write your essay; it won't take you long anyway."

       That made a smirk appear on Satoru's lips and he leaned forward, his sunglasses sliding down his nose a little. "Are you saying I'm a genius, Suguru?"

       Suguru turned his attention back to his book. "I said no such thing."

       "Mm-hmm, sure you didn't," Satoru drawled.

       He let out another sigh (Suguru gave him a pointed look) before actually focusing on the textbook in front of him. It wasn't like he didn't already know the stuff written in here — the Gojo Clan, along with training him to become a powerful sorcerer, provided him with an extensive education in history (and math and physics and all that bullshit), so none of the things about Sukuna, the King of Curses, and Shihai Noriko, the Death Countess, were really new to him. Still. He read the chapter — or, more like skimmed it — until his eyes snagged on something specific.

       It was a sub-section about the Shihai Clan and what little was known about them — publicly, that is. Satoru knew, the records the Gojo Clan had were a lot more thorough and held much more information than the regular textbooks. He'd had to read and memorize all of them as a kid, since it was the Gojo Clan that was responsible for capturing the Death Countess (they were insanely proud of that). But it had been a while since then, and he'd forgotten most of the details. So, when he read a paragraph about the curse users' techniques, and it said something about a Shadow Scythe, he was a teeny tiny bit taken aback.

       Because, as far as he knew, that was Jun's cursed technique.

       Satoru frowned at the book and read the paragraph once more:

       "Not much is known about the Shihai Clan today, most knowledge being lost to time. Therefore, there are not many records of the bloodline's innate techniques. However, it is known that the technique 'Shadow Scythe' is very common among members of the Clan; it allows the user to channel cursed energy into a solid weapon, using shadows as an intermediary, similar to the hereditary Ten Shadows Technique of the Zenin Clan, which lets the user summon ten different shikigami through shadows. Apart from the Shadow Scythe Technique, only the Corpse Animation Technique is known, with only two recorded users in the last 1,000 years: Shihai Noriko, also called the Death Countess, and Shihai Rori. Shihai Rori lived..."

       Satoru stopped reading, processing the information. So... the technique that Jun possessed was the most common technique among the Shihai Clan. Well, that didn't make any sense. He knew the Shihai Clan was still out there somewhere, in hiding, that was common knowledge among jujutsu sorcerers. But there was no way that Jun was related to them in any way. How can you be sure? You don't know a lot about her family, a voice whispered in his head. And that made Satoru sit up straighter. It was true, he hardly knew anything about Jun's family; he only knew her father because he was a jujutsu sorcerer, but other than that... He generally didn't know much about her, either, if he was being honest.

       Noda Jun was a mystery to him, always had been...

       He remembered when he first met her, when the sound of her footsteps — the loud thunk-thunk of her platform boots — had echoed through the halls of Tokyo Jujutsu High, and a moment later, a girl entered the classroom, her hair as black as coal and smooth as the water of the river Styx, coffee-colored eyes as piercing as daggers, rimmed with smudged black eyeshadow, and bold silver jewelry encasing her neck and her fingers.

       But it wasn't her appearance that had drawn him in (although, he had to admit, the goth look didn't put him off). No, it was something his Six Eyes had picked up on. There was a void inside Jun, like an empty space that was just waiting to be filled. With what, he had no idea. But it intrigued him, and he wanted to know more. He'd tried to befriend her with his usual charm, but that seemed to have the opposite effect on her, making her hate him rather than like him.

       And that hadn't exactly changed. Satoru knew basically nothing about Jun, while Suguru and Shoko had managed to gauge some details from her — not to mention that they both were allowed to look into her sketchbook while he wasn't even allowed to touch it. Very unfair.

       That void was still there, Satoru could see it every time he looked at Jun (which happened a lot more than he liked to admit — don't judge him, Jun possessed a certain allure, a beauty reminiscent of Aphrodite, that he just couldn't ignore...). But he was no closer to an answer as to what that void was, and he was fairly certain that Jun didn't even know it was there. Did that have something to do with the Shihai Clan...?

       "Hey, Suguru?" Satoru broke the silence, none of the usual mischief in his tone.

       Suguru sighed. "What?"

       "How much do you know about Jun's family?"

       "Eh?" Suguru pulled a bewildered face as his head snapped up. "Why are you asking me that?"

       Satoru swatted his hand dismissively, not wanting to answer that. "Just answer my question." Suguru eyed him, suspicion glinting in his purple eyes. And Satoru decided it was time to bring out the big guns: "Please."

       That successfully wiped the suspicion off Suguru's face, replacing it with surprise. "Uh... well... I don't know much. She's only ever mentioned her father; they meet up every Sunday."

       "What about her mother?" Satoru leaned forward eagerly. Suguru gave him a weird look. "Has she ever mentioned her?"

       "No, never. I don't think she's in the picture."

       "Hmm." Satoru tapped his chin, thinking, as he fell back against his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Interesting." If her mother wasn't in the picture, then where was she? Dead, maybe? Or had she just... left? His gaze fell on the history book once more, on a drawing of Sukuna and the Death Countess. What if... no. That couldn't be. Just because Jun had a similar technique to someone from the Shihai Clan — someone who'd lived a thousand years ago, no less — didn't mean that Shihai blood coursed through her veins—

       "Satoru — Satoru—!" Suguru snapped his fingers in front of Satoru's face, snapping the latter out of his thoughts. "What's your brain cooking up right now?"

       "Hm? Oh, nothing." Satoru shook his head. He wasn't ready to share this half-assed theory with anyone yet — it had just been an idea, nothing concrete, he might as well be completely wrong. No need to piss anyone off just yet (because this would certainly piss a few people off — mainly Jun; he always seemed to piss her off one way or another — the murderous glint in her eyes was oddly endearing, though).

       Suguru gave him a skeptical look. "You're acting even weirder than usual."

       "Weird? Me?" Satoru feigned taking offense. "You insult me, Suguru. Really. I'm wounded." He pretended to wipe away a tear.

       Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed with his antics — which was exactly what Satoru was aiming for because then he would forget about his questions. "Just— shut up and write your essay."

       "Alright, alright... Dad."

       Suguru threw a pen at him, but Satoru stopped it with his technique before it could hit him. Suguru grumbled, snatched his pen from the air, and went back to work. And, for once, Satoru backed down as well, focusing on the essay he had to write. But still, the thoughts kept spinning in his mind, weaving various threads of possibilities — possibilities he didn't particularly like.

🪦

       "WELL, SOMEONE LOOKS LIKE SHE didn't get enough beauty sleep."

       Gojo's grating voice was the first thing Jun heard after entering the classroom, and she immediately felt the urge to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze until she couldn't feel his pulse under her fingers anymore. The grin he was giving her — wide and mocking —, while rocking back on his chair with an air of arrogance surrounding him as if he were some type of god, caused irritation to poison her stomach. Which only got worse when she noticed that the only remaining seat was between him and the window. Jun sent him a death glare before plopping down on the chair. "Fuck off."

       Gojo laughed — an aggravating noise.

       "I thought we'd already established that she's a vampire," Geto said from beside Gojo, his smirk audible.

       Jun didn't reply; the comparison was true enough. She knew her sleep schedule was fucked, what with her usual bedtime being between three and four in the morning. Especially as a jujutsu sorcerer, this was far from ideal, since she needed all the strength she could possibly get to not die on a mission. But she couldn't help herself; the late hours of the night were when she felt most herself, when she could let her walls down for once, the needy hands of self-loathing unable to reach her, grab her, drag her down into the abyss. Something about the nocturnal atmosphere felt like a warm blanket to Jun, the darkness enveloping her like a hug.

       "You stayed up writing your essay, didn't you?" Shoko asked, leaning forward so she could see past Geto and Gojo and look at Jun.

       "Got a problem with that?" Jun spat.

       Shoko's gaze darkened. "I was just asking," she grumbled.

       (Gojo and Geto exchanged a glance.)

       Jun closed her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. She didn't mean to bite Shoko's head off like that — but she was tired, didn't have time for coffee, and, to top it all off, the first subject of the day was math. Normally, the little amount of sleep she got was enough for her. But that night, after finishing off the history assignment, she could barely fall asleep, and when she finally did, her sleep was filled with tossing and turning and dreams about being watched by a being with glowing red eyes. Not exactly the epitome of recuperating.

       The sound of heels clacking against the floor cut through the tension in the room like a knife, and a moment later, a woman wearing a gray pantsuit, with black hair chopped off at the shoulders, walked into the room, her dark eyes gliding from Shoko to Geto to Gojo to Jun. Their math teacher, Higuchi Eiko, put her briefcase down on the teacher's desk. She was in her fifties, but she barely looked it — her long face was smooth, almost no wrinkles visible, except a few laugh lines, thin as if drawn by a pencil, around her eyes and mouth.

       She wasn't a jujutsu sorcerer, but she could see curses — all their teachers of the 'normal' subjects were like that. Yaga Sensei taught the classes that concerned jujutsu.

       The class proceeded as usual, with Jun understanding jack shit and starting to sketch human and animal skulls instead of listening (What was the point if she couldn't make sense of anything anyway?), Shoko and Geto quietly listening, sometimes asking a question, and Gojo blurting out the answers to all questions with such ease that it pissed Jun off. When Higuchi Sensei turned to the blackboard to show them how to solve an equation, Gojo leaned over to Jun and whispered, "Hey, Jun?"

       Jun gritted her teeth, and without looking at him, she said, "No."

       "No? You don't even know what I want yet."

       "Doesn't matter. No." She focused harder on the goat skull she was currently drawing, darkening the places that needed shading, pronouncing the edges — it wasn't easy to sketch with a ball-point pen but Jun liked the roughness of it, the messiness of overlapping, crisscrossing, and broken-up lines; somehow, it reminded her of herself, the jaggedness, the lack of softness. Jun was anything but soft, she had shed that part of herself four years ago like a snake shed its skin. She pulled her boot onto the chair, her knee sticking out to the side, the cross-pattern of her fishnets pulled wide apart over her kneecap.

       Gojo didn't give up so easily, though — he could be stubborn as fuck when he put his mind to something (which was something Jun hated; he was even more insufferable then). He poked her knee with his pen. Jun ignored him. "Tell me, was your father the first jujutsu sorcerer in your family?"

       Her pen scratched to a halt on the paper. She looked over at Gojo. "What?"

       Victory was painted on his face now that he got her attention. "Was he the first or not?"

       "... No," Jun answered. She didn't know where his curiosity about her family suddenly came from, but it caused wariness to infuse her thoughts — it seemed like there was an ulterior motive behind his questions, and she didn't like it one bit. So, she just turned back to her notes and continued sketching.

       "How many were there before him?"

       "Don't know," she deadpanned.

       "Hmm," Gojo hummed. "Was your family's name always 'Noda'?"

       Annoyance crawled up her throat. "Don't know."

       "Is your Shadow Scythe technique common in your family?"

       Her right hand, the one she used to summon her scythe, tensed, and she stopped drawing. No, the technique was not common. Actually, she was the only one who possessed it, and it had created a rift between her and the rest of her family. Not that she saw them often. She knew her father had an older brother, but he hadn't shown his face since Jun had been, what, five? Her father had told her how he'd always been close to his brother and parents, but their relationship had grown distant; he'd never told her why, and Jun couldn't stop the whispers in her mind that said it was because of her. It shouldn't surprise her. She was repulsive. Everyone she'd ever known had run from Jun when they got too close, leaving scar after scar on her heart — until she locked it away.

       She glanced at the clock above the door; the lesson was almost over, just a few more minutes. Then she could ask Shoko if she could switch seats with her; she didn't want to endure Gojo for another hour. She might kill him if he kept prying.

       "Hellooo?" Satoru poked her knee again. "Is the Shadow Scythe common?"

       The muscles in her jaw twitched. "No."

       Gojo was quiet for a few seconds, and Jun thought he was done with his interrogation, but then he had to open his mouth once more, "What about your mother?"

       Jun froze, the world around her slowed down, the air grew stuffy — she felt like she was being entombed, cold earth covering her, cutting off her oxygen. Her grip on her pen tightened, the plastic pressing into her skin, leaving reddened indentations. She was surprised it didn't snap in half.

       "Was she a jujutsu sorcerer—?"

       "Shut the fuck up," Jun hissed, her voice scraping up her throat. Memories of her mother resurfaced in her mind, dancing in front of her eyes in pale watercolors, solid yet blurry. The indifferent look in Noda Itami's brown eyes every time she looked at Jun; the annoyance whenever Jun asked her something; the urgency with which she wanted to get rid of Jun whenever she sought out her mother's embrace as if she was just a nuisance, a fly to be swatted away.

       "I was just curious—"

       Anger flared up inside her, burning her intestines. "You can shove your curiosity up your ass! I don't know why you're asking all this, and I don't give a shit. My life is none of your fucking business."

       Gojo had the decency to look taken aback.

       "... And that concludes our lesson," Higuchi Sensei announced, turning back around to face them, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife — she'd been so immersed in her calculations that she hadn't noticed the temperature in the room drop to zero. After the teacher dismissed them, Jun didn't waste a second; she threw her notebook and her pen into her bag and stormed out the door, ignoring the confused looks of Shoko and Geto boring into her back, and Gojo calling after her.

       Before the door fell shut behind her, she heard Geto ask, "What did you do?"

       Her feet carried her into the kitchen, thunderous footsteps tearing through the silence. The first years were there, but when they felt the heat of Jun's glare, they quickly scrambled out, leaving her alone. Alone with her thoughts, her memories, her emotions. Her head was a mess, and the wall around her heart was only one crack away from shattering. She started pacing back and forth, her fists opening and closing, her nails piercing the skin of her palms over and over again, but not drawing blood. Yet. She didn't expect a single question about her mother to throw her off the rails like this. The needles in her chest made it hard to breathe.

       "Jun?"

       Geto.

       She stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn to look at him; she didn't have her facial features under control, and she didn't want him — anyone — to see. "I'm fine," she bit out.

       He stepped around her so they were face to face, but left enough space between them for Jun not to feel like she was being choked by his presence. And yet the distance between them felt fathomless, like it would swallow her whole if she didn't hold onto something— Hold onto what? There was nothing for her, nothing to keep her chained to this moment, this world. She was just a wretched girl, suffocating in her loneliness, her self-imposed punishment.

       At the sight of her, Geto sighed. "No, you're not."

       Jun stabbed him with a cold look, half of her still stuck in her memories. "You don't fucking know me."

       He came a step closer. "I know you better than you think." Jun scoffed. Another step closer. "You push people away because you think no one would want to stay when they get to know the real you." Jun stilled; she moved to back away, but Geto reached for her, taking her hands in his, keeping her in place. His touch was hot against her skin, and suddenly, the memories cutting through her stopped, and all she could see was him, all she could feel was him. "I get that," he continued. "All my life, I could see things that no one else could — curses —, so I kept everyone at a distance 'cause I didn't want them to think I was mad, even though I thought that myself. But then I was scouted and came here. I met Satoru, and Shoko, and you, and I realized I didn't have to be alone anymore." Geto smiled softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore. We're all here for you, we care about you. I know Satoru can be an idiot—"

       "An idiot?" she seethed, infusing the word with as much venom as possible. She yanked her hands out of his light grip. Geto flinched. "He's a selfish asshole who doesn't care about anyone but himself!" Asking about her mother like that... like that wasn't a landmine only waiting to be set off... Her teeth were fletched, more wild animal than girl. "He doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants!"

       Is that so different from you? a voice in her head snarled — a voice that sounded suspiciously similar to how she remembered her mother's. You're not capable of caring about others, just like no one will ever care about you. Jun closed her eyes. No, no, no, no. Unwillingly, the note her mother had left her and her father before she disappeared crawled to the forefront of her mind, words that didn't lose their punch as time passed — always hitting where it hurt the most, always leaving new bruises.

       "This isn't the life I want. I can't be a wife. I can't be a mother. Goodbye."

       Jun's brain immediately, involuntarily, replaced 'can't' with 'don't want to', and 'a' with 'your' — I don't want to be your mother. The words cut through her, leaving her bleeding. Jun's very being was so loathsome that even her own mother couldn't love her, couldn't stick around. No one could ever care about her, that was her nature. And it was just a matter of time until her father recognized that too and left her, just like everyone did.

      "Hey — Jun?" The voice was distant, muffled, not strong enough to fight against her mother's.

       A hand cupped her face, and her eyes snapped open, meeting the soft purple of Geto's, searching her face for... something. He was completely and utterly calm, didn't look remotely repelled by her outburst. His thumb caressed her cheek and Jun remained as still as a statue. "You with me again?"

       She couldn't speak, it was as if her vocal cords had been slashed; she forced herself to nod. She knew she should step back, shouldn't let him get so close. But the warmth emanating from Geto's touch, the soft brushes of his thumb over her cheekbone, made Jun want to lean in even more, bury herself in his embrace, inhale the scent of his cologne, and forget all about the self-hatred chewing her up from the inside. Indulge herself this one time.

       But that desire shriveled up and died when she heard his next words, "Satoru didn't mean to hurt you—"

       The armor that threatened to break at Geto's touch rebuilt itself, and Jun stepped back, out of his reach. As soon as his touch was lost, no longer tethering her, the emotions came rushing back, overwhelming her; she didn't know how to deal with, all of it, and they culminated in a blazing rage ready to burn the world to the ground, reducing it to nothing but ash. "But he did!" she snapped. Geto opened his mouth to say something, but she didn't give him the chance. "He did, and for what? To satisfy his own fucking curiosity!"

       In a fit of anger, she snatched an empty glass from the kitchen counter (probably left there by a first-year when Jun had scared them away) and hurled it against the wall. The sound of glass shattering ricocheted through the room; Jun, panting, watched as the many shards tinkled to the floor. The rage-infested knot in her stomach loosened. That was... cathartic.

       "Did that help?" Geto's voice snapped her out of her stupor; he didn't sound judgmental in the slightest.

       Jun glanced at him. "... A little."

       Geto opened the cupboard holding the crockery. "Would you like to smash something else?"

       Jun reached for a plate.

🪦

       PLATE AFTER PLATE AFTER TEA CUP AFTER BOWL AFTER PLATE shattered against the wall or the floor. The anger sizzling beneath her skin simmered down, the needles in her chest receded, and her mother's voice in her head went silent. Jun's body was trembling from the adrenaline rushing through her veins; the sensation of destroying things — intentionally — was exhilarating, the feeling of being in control.

       She stopped reaching for more dishes when the floor was barely visible beneath the shards, and the cupboard was significantly emptier.

       Her eyes raked over the destruction to Geto, who was already looking at her with a smile on his pale lips. Her focus lingered on it, on the shape of his mouth, how the corners curved upward, one slightly higher than the other. She felt the urge to draw him, to immortalize him, in this moment, on a page in her sketchbook— she tore her gaze away, up to his glittering eyes. "I..." Her voice faded into nothing, unsure how to word what she was feeling.

       Luckily, Geto understood anyway. He tilted his head to the side, a loose strand of hair grazing his cheek. His smile grew. "Anytime."

       Jun didn't smile in response per se, but her face softened, which was the closest thing to a smile anyone would get from her. (The only person who got to see her smile was her father. Because her was her father.) She diverted her gaze back to the mess she'd made; the school property she'd deliberately destroyed. "Who's gonna pay for all this, though?"

       "Me."

       Jun whirled around, stopping in her tracks when she saw Gojo stand in the doorway, hands in his pockets, and, for once, no arrogant smirk in sight — it had been replaced by an expression she'd never seen on him before... The last bits of anger that couldn't be erased by smashing plates pierced her insides, and wariness crept up her spine. "You?" she spat, crossing her arms.

       Gojo exchanged a look with Geto, and it was almost as if they were having a silent conversation. Then, after giving Jun a last encouraging smile, Geto walked out.

       And that left Jun alone with Gojo — a recipe for disaster.

       Gojo took a few steps into the room. Jun eyed him suspiciously.

       "Look," he started, rather awkwardly. "I didn't...—" He looked around the room, as if the right words would be floating around somewhere. They weren't. He cleared his throat. "OK." He took off his sunglasses before looking at Jun with an earnestness that almost — almost — made her back away. "I fucked up," he stated. "I didn't know that your— that it was such a sensitive topic." Jun noticed how he avoided the word 'mother'. Either he was scared she'd snap at him again, or he didn't want to trigger her — considering his ego, though, he probably just didn't want to risk getting his face ruined by her nails. Jun saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. "So, uh... Sorry," he forced out. Then added faintly, "I guess. Though I couldn't have really known..."

       Jun pinned him with an icy glare. Then she said, deadpan, "You're really not good at this."

       Gojo shrugged. "Never had to apologize for anything before."

       Jun scoffed. "Arrogant prick."

       "Not 'asshole' or 'bastard'? That's progress." Gojo grinned, putting his sunglasses back on. "Guess I did something right with that apology."

       "Don't test my patience."

       His face morphed into a pout. "But that's what I'm best at."

       Jun gave him an exasperated look but didn't retaliate. Instead, she started picking up the shards of the dishes she'd broken. A heartbeat later, Gojo joined her in her endeavor. "You really gonna pay for all this?" she asked, no malice in her tone (for once).

       He pulled a grimace. "Well, since it's sorta my fault... Yes."

       "Sorta?"

       "OK. Definitely my fault."

       Silence stretched over them, which was hard to endure for Gojo, Jun could see that. He'd wanted to break the silence multiple times, but every time, Jun sent him a glare and he immediately snapped his mouth shut, swallowing the (probably stupid) words. After about ten minutes — the mess was far from cleaned up — Jun leaned against the counter, letting out an exhausted sigh. "Someone with a cleaning technique would be useful," she said.

       Gojo snorted a laugh as he threw a handful of broken ceramic into the trash. "Was that a joke?" Jun frowned at him. "You got jokes now?"

       Jun shook her head. "You're insufferable."

       He chuckled to himself, pushing the cupboard that hid the trashcan inside closed with his knee.

       Jun watched him, debating if she should say something or keep her curiosity to herself. But a question had been worming its way through her brain ever since Gojo had started to interrogate her. "Why were you asking all that stuff anyway? You never cared before."

       Gojo leaned against the counter next to her, his grin gone, and for a few agonizingly long seconds, he just stared ahead into nothing. Which she should have taken as a warning sign, but as it so happened, when his smirk returned, and he looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses, she'd already forgotten about how fucking weird he was acting. And when he threw her own words back into her face in an act of teasing, "I thought you don't give a shit?", she even failed to notice that he successfully avoided her question...

       "Oh, fuck off."

       "What an articulate comeback, I'm impressed."

       "Get out of my sight."

       "What, you wanna clean this shit yourself?"

       "... Fuck off."

       Gojo laughed.

gojo satoru is a bisexual disaster. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

anyway, it was definitely a lot of fun to write from his pov and i hope i wrote him well. this story is gonna switch povs a lot probably, also with geto and shoko and mayu, and, yes, I'm adding my own character lore for canon characters bc we really don't know much about their pasts at all and that sucks - gege gave us nothing here.

jun can't deal with emotions and has hella mommy issues, but no surprise there let's be real. she had to get some stuff out of her system, RIP dishes.

also... something about geto being part of the destruction (of dishes), and gojo being part of the cleaning up and fixing the mess... foreshadowing... ANYWAY

i hope you enjoyed and let me know what you thought!!