Chapter Text
September 27th, 2018 - 00:17
For the third time in his life, Gojo Satoru didn’t know what to say.
It was a sight seldom seen, Gojo shocked or disheartened to such a degree that the comically (read: annoyingly) witty sorcerer couldn’t find words to lash out in comeback, but here he was for the third time in his life, words failing him and hands white knuckling the armrests on his chair.
His expression was unreadable, eyes covered by his signature silk black blindfold and lips pressed thin and taut. His students wouldn’t know how to read him, save for one—the notion made his toes curl and threaten his neutral look. His colleagues, the ones who’d known him since his teenage years, would certainly know better. Maybe that’s why when the news was first broken to him with such vagueness that could leave the world’s most renowned thinkers scratching their heads, Nanami stood back, almost in a corner, and Yaga looked uncharacteristically solemn.
And Shoko…
Well, Shoko was working on part of the problem, needle and thread in hand and surgical mask adorned tightly over her nose and mouth. “Needs more work than my reversed technique can offer,” she’d said quickly, grasping rushedly for sharp tools that would leave squeamish people on the ground. “This is medical, painfully medical. I need you out now !”
So that left Gojo in the waiting room, arms crossed sternly over his chest as he utilized Six Eyes to glance at his coworkers’—dare he say friends’ —faces. They both looked on at the white haired man with so much trepidation, that it almost made Gojo sick. The silence they’d plummeted into what felt like hours ago almost more so.
So he bit back his nausea, wrangled what words were floating around his brain to his tongue, and broke the coffin-like quietness.
“Read me the report.”
Both his former peer and teacher visibly stiffened, surprised that the safety of silence had been shattered.
Nanami swallowed. “Gojo, it-”
“I want to hear it, and I want to hear it now ,” Gojo demanded, leaving no room for argument. “So help me, Tengen, Nanami, I’ll pry those papers from your hands, if I must.”
Stillness ensued briefly before Nanami slowly shook his head. “That’ll be unnecessary,” he conceded, the papers crinkling between his fingers as he raised them to his face.
“On September 26th, 2018, second year Inumaki Toge, semi-grade one, and first year Fushiguro Megumi, second grade, were assigned to a grade two curse residing in the Arashiyama forest in Kyoto. Time of departure was 09:32. Time of rearrival was 22:13. Exorcism of the curse failed, and the mission was terminated due to an emergency. Statuses are as follows:
Inumaki Toge: Suffering from severe throat lacerations, broken left arm, three
broken ribs, concussion, and severe head laceration.
Status: Critical condition.
Fushiguro Megumi: Nowhere on scene, but from the remains of the assignment it is not thought he left unscathed. Kidnapping is suspected.
Status: Missing.”
Gojo’s mouth felt dry like he’d been eating sand by the spoonfuls.
He swallowed. “A grade two,” he struggled, “would not inflict such damage to sorcerers like them, especially not when paired together.”
Nanami nodded and crossed his leg. “The grade is suspected to have been underestimated.”
“Underestimated,” Gojo scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “These miscalculations seem to be growing more and more abundant.”
Yaga bristled slightly in his seat at that. “Gojo, things like this happen-”
“Way too often,” Gojo gritted out between tightly clenched teeth. “We have a grading scale for a reason: to keep our sorcerers safe. Tell me what good that does us if the higher ups keep fucking this up. Our students could have died,” he gave pause. “One could be dead. We don’t even know where the hell he is, and this all could have been avoided if the higher ups did their damn jobs!”
Careless tyrants is what the whole lot of them were, and Gojo would love nothing more than to send all of the useless bastards to an early grave, but the consequences that would be bestowed upon him and his precious students would be much too high for him to do so much more as consider and daydream about his wishes. However, this… this only added fuel to a dangerous fire that Gojo was becoming significantly less and less concerned about if he got burned from or not.
Yaga tapped his fingers against the armrest of his own chair in an attempt to look irritated, but Gojo knew better. Yaga was nervous. “It’s common for sorcerers, students or not, to turn up missing, hurt, or dead.” Blunt, cold, too terribly true. “As much as this agonizes all of us, it’s no different than any other time.”
“That’s complete bullshit, and you know it!” Gojo slammed his fist against his seat, standing abruptly. A loud screeching noise emitted from his chair as it scooted away from the force of Gojo’s outburst. “This only happened because the higher ups were too lazy to do their research and calculate the true nature and grade of the curse they wanted us to assign to the students! Had it been a grade two like they’d claimed, Inumaki and Megumi would be fine ! They would have returned to campus with minimal injuries and a completed assignment! But no ! No, Inumaki’s in critical condition, and Megumi is missing! All because the higher ups don’t care about what happens to their underlings!” Gojo’s chest heaved with enraged, ragged breaths. He was close to seeing metaphorical red, anger and anxiety building so quickly within his body, only for it to seem to be dismissed by his own boss.
Gojo suddenly wished he’d never gotten Megumi involved with sorcery, his impressive technique be damned.
Nanami looked between the two men, face stoic as typical, but eyes heavy in a way Gojo hadn’t seen in years.
Not since…
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have to agree with Gojo on this one,” Nanami said quietly, surprising both men. “This is a devastation that could have easily been avoided had the correct information been given out, to begin with. Of course, injuries and death are unavoidable within the field of sorcery, but this is an exception on the account it was a mistake caused by someone in power.”
Gojo said nothing, merely basking in the feeling of validation before allowing the dread of the entire situation to crash over him once more.
Yaga took a deep breath through his nose. “Alright, so this is an unacceptable happenstance. I agree, but Gojo, I swear if you attempt anything-”
“Oh believe me,” Gojo cut him off with an airy laugh, “as much as I’d love to kill each and every higher up that looks down on us with snottiness, they are not my biggest concern as of now.”
And the two didn’t need a vocalization of what was because they already knew. The kid Gojo had sacrificed so much to raise was suddenly gone to God knows where, and they’d be daft if they thought it was something Gojo would simply let be.
Not that they’d intended to in the first place because Megumi, affections aside, was a student, and students came first, but Gojo’s history with the kid added more leverage.
The infirmary door slid open, and the sound of flat shoes clicking against the tiles stepped out. Shoko looked at all of them, dark circles on her eyes glistening too brightly against her pale, almost sickly, skin. She dropped the surgical mask from her face, slid the door shut once more, then proceeded to procure a box of cigarettes from her pocket. “He’s stable,” she confirmed, grabbing a cigarette from the pack and allowing it to loosely dangle from her lips as she moved to light the stick, “for now. He isn’t awake, yet, and I’m unsure when or if he’ll awake. He’s exhibiting symptoms of comatose.”
Gojo wanted to bash his head against a wall.
Yaga rubbed his hands across his face in tired exasperation. “What curse could have taken them out like this?”
Gojo cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe the curse with the patchwork face? The one Nanami encountered?”
“No,” Shoko said firmly. She took a long drag on her cigarette before blowing the smoke out. “It couldn’t have been. With how extensive Inumaki’s injuries are, had it been the patchwork bastard, he’d have been transfigured.”
Nanami nodded his agreement, his own experiences with the curse going unvocalized. “Shoko’s right. It’s physically impossible for Inumaki and Fushiguro to have come in contact with the patchwork curse. Had they, Inumaki’s case would’ve been much direr.”
Gojo threw exasperated hands in the air, leaning restlessly back in his seat. “Ok, so that leaves us with what lead, exactly? Did the higher ups leave any sort of information about the curse aside from the disappearances that happened in the area? Any indication of what the curse’s technique was or anything ?”
Yaga thumbed through paper, one of the reports, Gojo guessed, eyes skimming through a maze of words upon words. After a minute or so, however, Yaga sighed and shook his head. “Nothing of that nature is expressed.”
“Fucking hell,” Gojo groaned roughly, irritation bleeding too clearly into his voice. He’d never been one to enjoy the higher ups, nor the system of hierarchy that was left in the jujutsu world, but this only inflamed that hatred to a severe degree, one that left Gojo so enraged that he could burn down cities without so much as batting an eye. “So you’re telling me we have no leads whatsoever?”
Yaga shifted in his seat, placing his stapled set of papers on his lap. “Unfortunately. However, we have the location. Considering the mission was left incomplete, there’s bound to be residuals left over.”
“You can’t be too certain of how strong those will be, though,” Shoko said, leaning against the wall that separated the waiting room from the infirmary. “The failed mission took place several hours ago. If the curse was sentient like we believe it is, it might know how to cover its tracks.”
“Well, we have to do something !” Gojo exclaimed, rising from his seat and running a stressed hand through disheveled hair that was pristine mere hours ago. Ever since word came in that Megumi hadn’t made it back from the mission, though, all Gojo could do was run hands that would otherwise turn shaky through his hair as anxiety wormed its way into his being like a fatal disease. “Whether we have a strong lead or not, we can’t just sit here.”
Yaga tapped nervous fingers against the armrest of his chair, face otherwise non-expressant like typical. Had Gojo not known the principal for well over a decade, he wouldn’t think the man was capable of such feelings of anxiousness, but his mannerisms were enough to prove otherwise. “We can’t run into this recklessly. Curses don’t kidnap for the hell of it. There’s got to be something else at play.”
Gojo looked at Yaga incredulously, a laugh breaking through his throat and a hand moving to rub itself against a blindfolded eye socket. “Yaga, I don’t care if the world is in jeopardy. One of our students has been kidnapped, and I’ll be damned if we don’t start doing something about it tonight .”
One of our students. It rolled so easily off of his tongue that way, and while he’d do just about anything for his beloved pupils, Megumi was more than just a student. He was someone who’d constantly attempt to kick Gojo in the shin, even when he knew infinity was in place (and he was the only person Gojo would let kick him). He was someone Gojo associated with grueling hours of first grade homework that he was certain was too advanced for seven-year-olds and Sunday morning breakfasts. Megumi was someone who always insisted he didn’t need Gojo but never failed to stop by his bedroom during the wee hours of night after a bad dream. He was someone Gojo witnessed grow up and aided in the process along with one other person they’d both lost roughly a year ago.
Megumi was one out of two kids Gojo held guardianship over, and Gojo had already lost one. He wasn’t about to lose the other.
Shoko rolled her eyes and made a move to smack Gojo against the back of his head, but as expected, her hand bounced off of infinity. “Lighten up, Satoru,” she tried to console, but there was a tightness to her voice that Gojo—and only Gojo—could detect, “we weren’t going to sit here all night and play board games. We’re going out tonight, and we’re looking wherever we can for the brat.”
Yaga sent slightly narrowed eyes Shoko’s way. “Shoko, we can’t just-”
Shoko bent towards Yaga, effectively shutting him up with a puff of disgusting smoke blown in his face. “We can do whatever the hell we think is best,” she finished for him, flicking the ashes from her cigarette onto the tiled floor. “The higher ups have failed us too many times, and we don’t have enough time to consult them about what they think is best. After all, they’d probably tell us to let the matter go. One life isn’t important to them.”
And unfortunately for Gojo, that one life was everything to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Yaga wafted the smoke away from his face as Shoko carried on, shaded eyes directing themselves back towards Gojo. Gojo didn’t like the way the older man’s eyes felt on his body, calculating and analytical, searching for something that may or may not be there. The fact that Gojo wasn’t aware of just what the man was searching for either didn’t calm his nerves at all. But at the same time, Gojo didn’t care. Because no matter what Yaga said, he’d be leaving campus immediately. Within the hour, he supposed.
Eventually, Yaga sighed, leaning the side of his head against his fist. “This is personal to you, isn’t it, Satoru?”
Gojo scoffed, slightly angry that Yaga had to ask . “Something’s got my kid, Yaga,” he said quietly. “Tell me how that isn’t supposed to be personal.”
Yaga remained silent because how could he say it wasn’t personal? Any attempt would practically be a dare that Gojo would know how to refute instantaneously.
“Alright,” Yaga relented, with a wave of his hand, “a search will begin tonight and not a moment later.”
Gojo let out a breathy laugh that almost sounded like nothing more than a loud exhale. “I wasn’t asking permission. Regardless, I was going to leave.”
“I’m well aware of that, Satoru.”
Nanami stood from his own seat, a hand moving to adjust the glasses on his face. “I’ll accompany you,” he said stagnantly. “Though it’s likely it wasn’t the patchwork curse they encountered, we can’t say for certain the curse isn’t involved whatsoever. I believe it would be beneficial for you to have someone who’s at least slightly knowledgeable firsthand with what we may be up against.”
Gojo couldn’t help the slightest hint of a smirk that ghosted across his lips, the first upward twitch he’d experienced since the shit show of a night began. “Nanamin, you care? That’s so unlike you.”
The faintest dusting of red permeated across Nanami’s cheeks. “I’m not doing this for you,” he clarified, but that was highly questionable, “I’m doing this for Fushiguro.”
Shoko took a final inhale from her cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stomping it out under a soft click of her flats. “I’m going, too,” she announced.
At that, Yaga’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. With Inumaki in his current state?”
Shoko rolled her eyes, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “He’ll be fine. As I said, he’s stable, and…unfortunately, he isn’t showing signs of waking up anytime soon. Besides, if we do find the kid, he might need my technique quickly. Who knows what could have happened to him with how long he’s been gone.”
The sentence made Gojo feel nauseous.
Yaga shook his head, standing from his seat as well. “I still don’t think-”
“I think you forget I helped raise the brat, too,” she said, voice harsh in a way Gojo hadn’t heard in what might have been years. Maybe not since Gojo had to forcefully tear his way out of his heartbroken induced funk that was all the fault of a single curse user with long, inky hair who could kill Gojo with his presence alone. She pointed a finger at Gojo that was borderline accusatory at Gojo. “Whenever that asshole wasn’t around, I watched the kids. I’m going, too, whether you like it or not.”
Gojo smirked, almost in a look that told Yaga, yeah, she’s on my side , all before the comment about him sunk in. “Wait, hey .”
“Ieri coming with us means more coverage,” Nanami interjected, not allowing Gojo to get further two sense in. “More coverage means we just might find Fushiguro sooner.”
Gojo appreciated the optimism the blonde gave, something that was so seldom heard from the ex-salaryman, but he highly doubted his claim to be accurate. His Six Eyes should be beneficial, make no mistake, but Megumi could literally be anywhere . They’d wasted enough time, to Gojo’s chagrin, but the fact that they were dealing with curses—sorcery—added a whole other complexity to the situation that left Gojo’s outlook terribly and unnervingly bleak, a thought process the peppy and bubbly sorcerer wasn’t exactly used to.
Still, it was either take the silver lining where he could find it, or drown in his own doubt.
“Right, so then Yaga stays here with the students,” Gojo settled.
At that, Nanami’s eyes widened. “Wait, the students. Should we inform them?”
Gojo worried his bottom lip at that. He wasn’t sure whether their knowledge would be beneficial or a hindrance. Sure, while having more hands on deck might allow for greater coverage, Gojo had seen Nobara while in a state of hysteria (Itadori’s initial death had been a harrowing experience for her and Megumi, causing Gojo to see behaviors from both he’d much rather never see again.). And he wasn’t quite sure how Itadori would react. For the several days following the incident with Junpei, Itadori was apathetic at best. Gojo was lucky enough that Nanami dealt with the brunt of that emotionally taxing situation, but he’d much rather ensure he kept emotional distress as far away from his students as possible.
So for now, he shook his head. “If…” Gojo gulped around his words, hoping the emotion that weighed them down would slither down into his stomach where he could lock it away, “if the situation doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, we’ll inform them then. As for now, I want this to stay between us. Who knows what chaos could ensue should the higher ups or any other major clan find out that the holder of the Ten Shadows Technique has been kidnapped.”
But they won’t find out, no one else will ever find out because Gojo isn’t resting, isn’t coming back home until he has Megumi in tow, and he’s willing to sacrifice everything he has, everything he is, to guarantee the teen is alive when Gojo brings him back to campus.
Shoko cocked an eyebrow at her former peer. “Don’t you think they’ll be suspicious once they realize Megumi hasn’t returned from his mission? It’s not as though it was a secret he was going to be gone in the first place.”
Gojo shrugged. “I adore my students, but Itadori can be denser than a rock at times, and Nobara’s attention can be quickly dissuaded with money for shopping trips.”
Nanami crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “That’s a pretty harsh accusation.”
Gojo scoffed. “Tell me I’m wrong. You’ve mentored Itadori more than enough times to have formed your own opinion around him.”
Nanami’s silence was enough of an answer.
Yaga hummed uncomfortably. “Alright, so we’re not telling the students.”
“Until stated otherwise,” Gojo clarified. “If, and only if nothing comes of our searches, we will notify the students immediately. I’ll rope the students from Kyoto into this as well if I have to.”
He really hoped he wouldn’t have to because the only reason he’d have to is if they didn’t find Megumi soon.
“We won’t let it get that far,” Shoko said with another roll of her eyes, but Gojo could tell there was something in her voice that was meant to be comforting. “We’ll find your kid. Let’s just get a move on now. The sooner we get to the scene, the higher chance residuals can still be detected.”
Gojo nodded his agreement before shifting his gaze to Nanami. “I’ve warped with you before, right?”
Nanami seemed to turn a shade paler at that. “...I don’t believe so.”
Gojo hummed and clapped his hands. “Welp, guess there’s gotta be a first time for everything! I’m not wasting any more time by taking a bus or having Ijichi drive us.” Both options would take too long in comparison to the instantaneous nature of warping.
“I’ll be sure to watch over Inumaki and the other students,” Yaga said unnecessarily. Gojo already knew he would. “If Inumaki’s condition changes at all, I’ll call immediately, and I expect you to be here as soon as possible after the fact.”
Shoko sighed and waved a dismissive hand. “I shouldn’t have snuffed out my cigarette already,” she muttered under her breath. “Of course, I’d come back. Just because I’m leaving to help another student doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten or don’t care about Inumaki’s status.”
Yaga’s lips pressed tightly together. “I wasn’t implying that.”
Gojo groaned with an impatience that went unmatched by anything he’d felt before, throwing his hands up dramatically. “We’re wasting time!”
“We’re going, we’re going!” Shoko said, glancing towards Nanami as Gojo pressed firm hands against their shoulders. “It’s easier if you close your eyes for the first time,” she instructed. “Otherwise, you’ll feel nauseous.”
“Believe me, I’m already at that point,” he partially joked.
Before Yaga could get another word out that would delay the search any further, Gojo manifested a wave of cursed energy abruptly wrapped itself around the three sorcerers, enveloping them in a wave of nothing and flashing brightly, leaving nothing but residuals in its wake.
Thunder rolled, lightning crashed, and a whistling wind mixed in with a rain that developed from a drizzle into something much harsher.
A storm was brewing outside, and Gojo wasn’t a believer in coincidence.