Perhaps it was a coincidence woven by fate itself, or perhaps the heavens had simply decided these three were meant to be friends. On the fifth of May, Gojo Satoru vanished from Tokyo Jujutsu High without a word, gone for half the day, only to return in the afternoon dragging behind him a genuine first-grade cursed spirit—one that even possessed its own technique.
"Here. It's for you," he told Geto Suguru, and in that single careless sentence, the first tender shoot of friendship pushed through the soil.
"…Thank you," Geto answered, and most of the resentment he had been nursing melted away like morning frost.
It was Children's Day in Japan, and more specifically Boys' Day, a festival when young men could spend time with family and friends beneath fluttering carp streamers.
Asou Akiya had good reason to suspect Gojo had slipped back to the ancient family estate in Kyoto and raided the sealed curse vault. The Three Great Houses all kept such storehouses. Storages filled with cursed spirits bound and preserved for the younger generation to cut their teeth on.
Given how fiercely the Gojo clan cherished their once-in-a-millennium prodigy, they would surely have raised towering poles that morning and flown a whole school of brilliant koi banners into the sky, each carp a prayer for courage and strength sent drifting upward for their white-haired heir.
The Gojo family had poured oceans of love into forging Satoru's unshakable core.
And now Satoru, in his careless way, had torn off a sliver of that courage and power and handed it to Geto Suguru.
Geto, who had grown up lacking so many things Satoru possessed in endless supply, lowered his head in bewildered gratitude.
The Six-Eyed heir gave away pieces of himself to make friends the same way Asou Akiya once offered to grant any single wish in exchange for one small favor.
To them, if it felt worth it, then it simply was.
Asou Akiya watched the moment bloom between them, smiled quietly, and slipped away without a sound.
He returned to the boys' dormitory humming a tuneless little song, deftly arranged the holiday kashiwa mochi and soft candies he had prepared, then called the other two—who were still poking at the newly captured spirit—and carried everything out to the front steps to share Boys' Day treats.
Sirens wailed overhead once more, but the three problem children simply sat on the concrete and ate their snacks without hurry. Asou sent Yaga-sensei a quick message: Happy Boys' Day. Satoru and I are celebrating with Suguru.
"So how do you tame it?" Asou asked, pretending innocence.
"Condense it into a cursed spirit orb and swallow it," Geto replied, more than willing to explain. He cradled the glossy black sphere in both palms as though it were made of spun glass—the very first first-grade spirit of his life, received as a Boys' Day present.
"What does a cursed spirit orb taste like?" Gojo asked out of nowhere.
Geto hesitated. "A little bitter… but bearable."
"Bearable?" Gojo's Six Eyes narrowed suspiciously toward Asou Akiya.
"Maybe it's coffee-flavored," Asou offered lightly, tossing Geto an easy lifeline for the obvious lie.
Gojo stared at the orb with sudden, dangerous curiosity.
In that instant Geto transformed into a broody mother hen, clutching his treasure to his chest, sweat beading on his forehead. The expression matched perfectly the terror Asou once felt when Gojo had nearly snatched away a precious letter.
No one could ever predict when the god inside Gojo Satoru would take the wheel and when the boy would resurface.
"No way. You are absolutely not having it—" Geto declared with iron finality. "It's mine!"
"Stingy," Gojo huffed, completely unbothered.
On the surface he dropped all interest in the taste of cursed spirit orbs, but Geto Suguru trusted that indifference about as far as he could throw it. Muttering something about needing the bathroom, Geto fled mid-conversation. Gojo's Six Eyes instinctively tracked the direction of his retreat…
Suddenly a pair of slender, long-knuckled hands slid over his eyes from behind, cutting the flood of information down to a merciful trickle.
"Don't look," Asou Akiya murmured against his ear. "Suguru will get embarrassed."
Snow-pale lashes fluttered and tickled against Asou's palms like frost brushing skin.
"You've got some nerve," Gojo growled. No one—no one—was allowed near his eyes. He yanked the hands away in a flash and spun around, cheeks flushed with outrage. "As if I'd ever spy on weird-bangs taking a piss!"
Despite the protest, Gojo abandoned all attempts to peep at the taming process.
There would be plenty of chances later.
His attention locked instead onto the fact that Asou had dared touch him again. A cold glint surfaced in those sky-blue eyes.
Killing intent flickered across his instincts like lightning. In less than a heartbeat his hand shot out, fingers closing around Asou Akiya's throat with lethal precision, utterly ignoring the fact that they were classmates. "Touch the Six Eyes one more time and I swear I'll cut your hands off."
Asou's windpipe compressed beneath the grip; oxygen vanished for two terrifying seconds.
Then Gojo released him.
Asou drew a ragged breath and, instead of retreating, tilted his head with a faint smile. "That careful? I thought anything except the Six Eyes themselves was fair game."
"Get lost." Gojo flipped him the middle finger with theatrical venom.
He had never bothered learning many verbal insults, but every single mocking hand gesture known to mankind? Those he had mastered perfectly.
Blame a certain squinty-eyed classmate for the excellent tutelage.
"Anything fun happen when you went home?" Asou asked, rubbing his neck and tugging his uniform collar higher to hide the faint red marks. He could tell Gojo had simply flared up in a burst of icy temper; it wasn't genuine murderous intent directed at him.
Covering the Six Eyes had just been a little Boys' Day prank.
A few days ago he had been allowed to press a palm to Gojo's growling stomach, proof that the strongest sorcerer alive already trusted him quite a bit.
Today he had simply stepped on a landmine instead of a sensitive spot.
Gojo's brows knotted at the unwelcome memory from that morning. His handsome features twisted into an exaggerated grimace. "You really knew I went back to the Gojo estate, huh? Then do you also know what kind of insane nonsense the old tangerines there are up to? Are they trying to secede from the Three Great Families and start a full-blown Six-Eyes-worshipping cult or something?"
The moment he had stepped onto the grounds, every clansman he passed had bowed low and greeted him with perfect, reverent synchrony.
["Welcome home, Lord Divine Child."]
Upgraded overnight from "Lord Satoru" to "Lord Divine Child." Gojo had nearly choked on his own soul.
"I don't get it at all!"
"Pfft—hahahaha—no way! They actually called you that?!"
"Pfft—hahahaha—no way! They actually called you that?!"
It took Asou Akiya less than three seconds to piece together exactly what had happened, and then he was doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. The fourth wall had shattered. One moment Gojo had been choking him in petty revenge, the next Asou had successfully grossed Gojo out in return. Perfect karmic balance.
Gojo stared at him in total bewilderment, unable to believe the mastermind behind the clan's madness could possibly be the boy wheezing in front of him.
The higher-ups back home going insane felt far more likely.
"Stop laughing." Gojo snatched up a kashiwa mochi and shoved it straight into Asou's open mouth. His voice climbed in pitch with embarrassment. "You are forbidden from telling a single soul. I do not want 'Lord Divine Child' following me around Tokyo Jujutsu High."
Asou swallowed the rice cake and spoke around the lingering sweetness, words muffled. "Apologise first. You strangled me."
Gojo hesitated. "Was that… because you were covering for weird-bangs and his cursed spirit orb?"
Asou said nothing. He simply fixed Gojo with a long, knowing smile that held a thousand unspoken words.
Gojo's eyes narrowed, then softened. "Fine. You two really are close, huh. Bold move, pissing me off for an outsider." Even though Geto wasn't special-grade yet, Gojo unilaterally acknowledged the friendship between Asou and Geto. It took guts, at least.
"Want me to blow on it?" Gojo switched gears in an instant, slipping back into innocent-boy mode. The corners of his mouth curved upward as he mimicked some high-school anime protagonist tending to an injured friend.
Yet the carelessness was carved into his bones. His exquisite little face was unfairly beautiful, sweet enough to drown someone, and those endless sky-blue eyes seemed to declare: I'm this gorgeous, so the world has no choice but to forgive me.
Asou Akiya felt as though he could see straight through to the colour of Gojo's soul. He leaned back against the wall, gaze unwavering, and answered with velvet-wrapped needles. "No. I want nothing. Except one 'sorry' from the Divine Child to a lowly male classmate."
Gojo stared at him for a long, silent moment.
"No way."
His smile could be swayed, his appetite could be swayed, but his heart refused to bend to the will of someone weaker.
"I don't think I did anything wrong."
Gojo considered himself merciful enough where Asou was concerned—any other tangerine would have been demoted to janitor duty long ago. He stated it coldly, factually, then leaned in close with that radiant, dazzling grin, creating a jarring contrast that chilled the air.
"Get stronger. Reach first-grade. Then maybe I'll look at you differently."
"Little tangerines should know their place."
"Obey my orders."
The overwhelming traits of a born ruler ran too deep in him to be denied. He was ice, unbearable ice, and while Asou's body trembled with a mixture of fear and indignation, Gojo used his height advantage to loom, lips pouting petulantly, crystalline, sharp canines flashing as he spoke in a tone that somehow managed to sound both charitable and spoiled at once.
"Last chance. Want me to blow on it or not?"
Asou Akiya: "…"
Geto Suguru stepped out of the dormitory at that exact moment, heard the tail end of the sentence, saw Gojo's obvious bullying stance, and his eyes widened in outrage. A violent cough tore from his throat, as though he were the one being strangled.
"GOJO! You're at it again!!"
"…Fine. Do it."
Asou Akiya surrendered, just this once, to the immutable truth that Gojo Satoru would never, ever apologise.
Asou Akiya surrendered, just this once, to the immutable truth that Gojo Satoru would never, ever apologise.
The game of who controlled whom would never truly end.
"I want the strawberry-candy-flavoured kind of blow," Asou added softly, smiling with deliberate gentleness as he touched the faint marks on his neck, as though it were nothing more than a mosquito bite that only needed soothing from the cool, sweet breath of an impossibly beautiful boy.
He handed Gojo a graceful staircase down from the confrontation, and the hostile scrutiny of the Six Eyes melted away like morning mist.
Gojo turned to rummage for the strawberry soft candies—then froze. A strange flicker passed through his eyes. There were all sorts of flavours in the bag, but not a single strawberry one.
When he looked up again, he heard Asou calmly explaining the incident to Geto.
"Gojo was having one of his episodes."
One sentence, and the boy who feared neither heaven nor earth fell completely silent.
Boys' Day.
In the end, it really was just an excuse to fight, wasn't it?!
—
Author's Note:
The real root cause of the whole incident, when you got right down to it, was…
Akiya simply didn't want Gojo watching Suguru take a shit!
Who in their right mind would bet money that Suguru wouldn't drop his pants?!