Cursed || Gojo Satoru x Reader

XV. Stranger

POV: (Y/N)

I can't help but feel attached to the barren walls that engage me. The cold floors and pristine shelves sway me into believing that this unfamiliar room is home. A subtle gust of wind that flies through the crack of my window springs the dust tucked into the room's corners into a dancing swirl. It has been well over a month, but I have yet to make this prison mine.

There are no signs that (y/n) (l/n) lives here. None- except for the fact that the floor remains mostly clean. When my eyes are closed, I can see the faded photographs that hung in my bedroom wall. The nostalgic scent of gardenia soaked into my bedsheets. The books that I pile onto a shelf by my door.

Everything about my presence here is a contradiction. I physically and lawfully do not belong at Jujutsu Tech. The presence of Sukuna within my body fuels an angry flame, one that only howls larger by the resentment in my familial blood. The justice I was raised with is scoffed at by the hidden puppet-masters whose words are law. The names in my family are scorned and hushed like the whispers of evils under children's beds. The cursed technique that holds me up is the very thing that is feared by all.

While I couldn't ignore the fact that my upbringing was less than desirable, my family's wrongdoings did not affect their undeniable sense of justice. Our intent to protect humanity above all else keeps our chins raised and our spines straight.

Idly, I stand tall and look up. I can already see my mother, her strong hands pressed into my shoulders, pushing them back from my face. I can see my father, his eyes unwavering as he taps the bottom of my chin. I can see the entirety of the clan, their clothing whipping against the tempestuous wind, gazes defiant against the words of all jujutsu sorcerers.

My breath catches. The images in my mind blur and fade away as my vision sharpens, focusing on a figure outside my window. He stands as one would in the (l/n) clan, his long dark hair lifted by the breeze, darker eyes as cold as steel. It were as if the scene in my mind simply materialized before me. The familiarity of his presence draws me from my empty room, and as though my body were moving on its own, I rushed outside to see him.

"(y/n)," he says, his sharp eyes soften for a moment when they meet mine. In my bones I knew who he was before my eyes had ever laid upon him.

Outside sorcerers who were in partnership with the (l/n) clan were few, but there was an undeniable bond that they established within our family. Only those who truly believed in our ideals would cast aside their lives, reputation, and safety to live in a world encompassed by whispers and shadow. There was no return for these people- but the sacrifice that they made only helped strengthen their loyalty to us.

But in an effort to keep their allegiances secret, it was deemed that we would never learn their names. Some in the clan had protested, saying that something as basic as a title couldn't hinder their ability to help us. But names within jujutsu sorcerers carried power. They preceded their abilities, revealed their techniques, and spread like fire from within. If none knew their names, we had no proof of connection other than distant communication. But appearances can be kept, so long as relationships don't deepen.

Because of this, I never learned his name. I only recognized his soft laugh, the way his eyes creased when he smiled, and the slight wave he always approached me with. The man who guided me through my missions, informed me of the presence of curses, and gave me counsel. The (l/n) family thrived on the intel of outsiders, managers, as some called them. Without them, we would be reliant on third-party information which often came late and had clan members arriving at disastrous scenes.

Still, I feel a surge of relief and a twist of annoyance when I see him. Although I usually greet him with a wave, I cross my arms and feel my arms tighten as I ask,

"You just had to give me the wrong information at that daycare, didn't you?" I huff a small breath, but the second after those words are spoken, I can't mask my smile. The corner of his lips tug up as he raises his shoulders into a shrug.

He says, "That was my bad. I had no idea that they would assign someone to the special grade so soon. All the sorcerers were very far away and it was surprising for me, too. I know you've been stuck here for a while, and I'm sorry to say that I wasn't sent here to help you escape. The (l/n) clan doesn't see it fitting for me to help you leave when you could've a long time ago."

I tilt my head to the side and don't say anything, but I know it's true. I could imagine that the clan was furious at me, not knowing that I've consumed Sukuna's finger yet. That was the most likely perspective that they had, considering the fact that they would've personally arrived to Jujutsu Tech in order to execute me themselves if they were to find out that I had a piece of the curse within me.

Even so, I frown, not knowing why the clan had sent him at all if it weren't to aid me in my escape. I thought for a moment that perhaps they wanted me to pursue a mission despite being preoccupied. That would be characteristically cruel of them in a humorous way.

"Then why are you here?" I muse, but I see him looking past me now. He takes in a sharp breath, one almost completely concealed- one that I've seen only a handful of times.

And I feel a bit of disappointment in myself for not recognizing his presence earlier. Not when now our techniques are intertwined and his energy has been touched by mine. But I know exactly who my manager is looking at, and I feel a sense of dread. I don't want to know what he will say, or what he will do.

But only one, heartbreakingly quiet whisper comes from Gojo Satoru's lips,

"Geto?"

Author's note: Please remember to vote if you liked this chapter :) Just as a bit of a head's up, this is where I think the story starts to pick up a little bit, so make sure you are ready for the ride! See you again soon!
~H