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ppejmurde · 3 months ago

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The Eyes Tell Many Stories

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Synopsis: Six eyes wouldn't be what it is without you / Six eyes hasn't always been a blessing. The many times you helped Gojo master his eyes. 5k.

A/N: There might be some canon discrepencies, and that's okay. I have a thing for Gojo's eyes.

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FOUR

You were the one who found him missing from a clan dinner at the age of four. The adults were busy drinking ancient and expensive alcohol, but who didn't care when a four-year-old wandered off? He was at the pond, head down and back to you, watching the koi dance and shimmer in the setting sun. Thoughts of sneaking up on him or pushing him in the water disappeared when your outstretched hand was snatched in a second's fraction and his tumultuous eyes clashed with yours, declared battle, and won the war, all in under a second.

"Satoru, stop it!" You yelled, failing to pull away from the beastly eyes and steely grip betraying the strength of a mere child. His gaze shone like the sunset hitting the water behind him. Bright and untamed. The sight had you yanking your arm until there were bruises. "Let go!"

That seemed to get through to him. He released you in favor of digging his palms into his eyes, crouching down on shaky feet.

"It hurts." He bit out from behind his arms. His mouth was contorted into a painful grimace. All you knew at the time was the desire to help someone in pain. Now you know you'd been the one to awaken the six eyes with your lame attempt to sneak up behind him, and now his life would never be the same. His eyes would have eventually stirred without you, but even now, any time you saw him get lost in the euphoria of submitting to the monster behind his eyes, guilt bit at your heart.

NINE

You were the one who took a baseball bat to the back of a bounty hunter's head who had nine-year-old Satoru's throat in his hands and was shoving his pristine hair into the mud, your screams akin to a snarred animal. The wet crunch of bone was nearly as nasty as the blood the stranger puked onto Satoru's horrified face before he collapsed, wheezing and dying. Satoru's choked screams and the fear in his wide eyes kept you both up for days. The unimaginable price (at least, to nine-year-olds) on his head and all the other shit that came with being a Gojo meant games of tag were replaced with sparring and meetings and getting his eyes to activate at will.

Migraines interrupted the various funerals he had to attend until there were no more Gojos to mourn.

It was that night, after the last funeral, when you offered to stay up and watch movies or spar and got turned down for everything, that infinity kicked in for the first time. All you were trying to do was hug him from behind -- give him the chance to know someone was still there -- but when you looked down between your shirt and his and saw a gap that wouldn't close in spite of your efforts.

"Sa-"

"Just leave!" And, as if the air could follow the command, a sudden force pushed you across the room and into the wall with enough strength to split the wood at your back and make plaster fall from the ceiling. Satoru's eyes widened when he saw what he'd done and rushed to pull you from the crater. A couple of stitches in the back of your head was the price to pay for awakening the rest of his technique.

ELEVEN

You were the one who disagreed when someone said Satoru's Six Eyes were getting 'better'. The migraines became so bad at one point you were left yanking some random sunglasses from a rack when his mind betrayed him in the middle of a store. Flickering lights made the other patrons glance around warily. All you focused on was the boy trying to crush his head between his hands. The groan of pain was torturous.

Your fingers skimming his temples helped distract him some, but the hug of glasses on the bridge of his nose was downright confusing. Warily he risked a peek with one eye, and now your look of concern was a little darker, a little less painful. "Is it helping?" You whispered.

Satoru chanced a look around. The gouge of pain in his head was still there -- did it ever leave? -- but the cursed energy around the room didn't assault him nearly as much as before. "How did you come up with that?"

"It's bright in here; I read that makes things worse."

He caught sight of himself in a mirror. With a squint, he scrutinzed his reflection, turning this way and that. Count on the sight of his own face to distract him from his pain. "What kind of glasses did you pick? Am I some rock band member?"

Now your head was beginning to hurt. "They were the first I grabbed, shut up."

THIRTEEN

You were the one sitting under the massive cherry tree in the Gojo estate courtyard (one of them, anyway), enjoying the gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above you, trying to ignore the turmoil happening just a few feet away. Days had gone by this way, with a scroll delicately held between your fingers, your neck sore from looking down for so long, and the various groans and grumbles of the teenager opposite you. He swiped away some sweat on his cheek.

"Does it say anything else?"

You squinted. "I think it says to focus your cursed energy into a single point, like the tip of your finger."

"What do you mean, 'you think'?"

"It's 500 years old! The inks all faded."

Satoru glared at the tip of his pointer and middle fingers. His eyes blazed. The air warbled, rippled, and sparked, but returned to normal.

He threw his hands into his hair, swore vehemently, and trudged over to the bag by your knee, "this is stupid! We're getting food," he ground out, ripping the cap off his water bottle and jamming his glasses back on his face.

"But the principal-"

"I don't care. You coming or not?"

The shoppe was busy, but Satoru's beguiling words got you a table by the window, only big enough for two though, and you hid the giggle behind your drink as he methodically folded his spindly legs under the table.

It all seemed like an okay idea at the time; the weather was nice, the crowds weren't bad, and Satoru's jaw finally relaxed after a batch of desserts was laid out in front of you both. His insistence.

"Satoru, I'm serious. You need to try harder to activate Blue-"

"Why? So the adults can start sending me after curses? No way."

"You need to be able to protect people. . ."

He was in the midst of instigating a powdered sugar fight when the warm sunlight was abruptly blocked. Three burly high schoolers scorned you both, drinks in hand and eyes pinched when they saw you sitting comfortably.

"This is our table." One bit.

"Move," added another.

Satoru, to his credit - or his ego - leisurely peaked at them over the rim of his glasses. His fork clattered against his plate. Then, he began looking around, first on the table, then under it, then at the back of his chair. When he met their eyes again, his were alight, hidden behind dark lenses but obvious from your angle. The hair on your arms rose.

"Funny," he lied, "I don't see your names anywhere."

The third guy was too oblivious to feel the sinister twist in the air. Instead he snickered and pointed. "This one's wearing sunglasses inside. Albino freak."

You put a hand up to Satoru, attempting to keep his leash tight. This wouldn't end well if he got serious in front of civilians. "We're just trying to enjoy our day, please just leave us alone-"

"Ain't talking to you, bitch!"

You yelped at the searing scorch of coffee dumped on your chest, writhing in a vain attempt to keep your hot clothing off your skin. Satoru clocked the assault, and his eyes burned hot with rage. He stood, years younger than the goons but already taller, and finally they saw the azure inferno kindling when he removed his glasses. They cowered while the air crackled.

You felt a change in the atmosphere. Your heart convulsed. Something was wrong.

"Sator-"

"Blue."

Every window exploded. The shoppe door erupted off its hinges and flew across the street. The walls split in every directions, chunks of ceiling fell to the floor, and picture frames shattered. Patrons and the tables they occupied were tossed violently. You shrunk when glass and wood pelted your skin. A cacophony of sound almost immediately gave way to complete silence. The only thing you heard was the kid Satoru had launched across the room into the opposite wall, gargling on blood. Alive, but damaged beyond recognition.

Satoru pulled you by the hand out of the rubble and onto the street. Onlookers gasped while Satoru merely grinned at them.

"They deserved it."

"No, they didn't!"

"They were weak."

"It doesn't matter!" You continued to chase the gangly silhouette. Three of your strides for every one of his. "You're strong, crazy strong, but I don't treat you any different. Am I beneath you, too?"

"I don't know, are you?"

His sentence ended with your scream. Your hand pulled from his, and when he turned, you were sitting on the rough cobblestone, cringing at the glass shards and wood splinters poking grotesquely from your palms and arms. Blood seeped from the growing wounds. A spike of wood stood up inches from its place in your thigh. Taunting him. Harming him, too, if only mentally.

"Crap," he swore, falling in front of you, "how'd you not notice this sooner?"

"A-Adrenaline, I guess." You sniffled. "You didn-n't give me much time to realize. . ." Words grew more difficult as the pain rose to a boil. His hurried inspection - turning your arms this way and that - made you whimper and flinch. Still, you managed to meet his eyes in a heavy stare; he needed to hear this. "Any of us can be more than what we were born to be. . . made to be."

He stared back, mute, for many seconds. His eyes changed shades of blue like waves in the deep ocean. Your cursed energy had always been eye-catching, but now, in the continuous onslaught of cursed energy from a city full of people (a mix of anxious, happy, depressed, infatuated, sick), it glowed soft, warm, and affectionate. It beckoned to him, begging for attention, a drug for his eyes. Looking at you, even with his level of perception, was always easy.

The rest of world had to intrude, though. A space behind his eyes grew teeth and bit at the nerve endings there. He flinched, groaned, and pinched his temples in a useless attempt to ease the pain. It did nothing. Only the graze of your knuckles on his forehead quieted the storm in his head. He watched as you diligently smoothed the lines in his brow. Satoru couldn't really see the color of your eyes anymore - one of the many 'blessings' of his technique - but nevertheless he stared at them for an unknown time, a man lost at sea using the sun for direction.

Something in his heart gave a fierce kick.

"It'll take a while for new glasses to come in." You mentioned.

He grabbed your hands and held them in his own. Azure sparks crackled between his fingers and yours. "That's what you're worried about?" He asked.

"Don't be dramatic-hey!" You exclaimed when he suddenly fell forward, head slumped on your shoulder. He was dangerously close to falling over had your hands not rushed to keep him upright.

"Sorry, just. . ." he whispered into your collar, "little tired."

"Yeah, well," you struggled to hold your phone on his back without bothering your cuts. His bulk made seeing the screen almost impossible. "Just close your eyes. I'll get us a ride."

You were the first to see Blue. In hindsight, you wished you hadn't.

SEVENTEEN

You were the one left to pick up the pieces when Geto left; it was like Gojo's own body was defending itself. Even you didn't know the extent until you ran into the gym some weeks later to escape a sudden downpour and saw Satoru, back to you, forehead pressed to the wall and shoulders hunched in discomfort. Something was horribly wrong. That much became apparent when you walked right up behind him and he seemed completely unaware. It would be one of the only times he'd let anyone sneak up on him, but it hurt so damn much-

"Satoru?" You called quietly. He flinched and quivered, but didn't turn.

"I can't get it to turn off, I can't, I. . ." he choked out between gasps. Overhead lights flickered and arcs of blue, red, and purple light traveled around him. The air buzzed, a warning of impending danger. Like the pause right before a lightning strike.

You pushed through the chill that had broken out over your skin. "It's alright, I'm here-"

"You need to go," he rushed, "it's not-"

"I'm not leaving you," you tried to touch him only to be stopped by an invisible force, "Satoru, turn off Infinity-"

"I can't!" Lightbulbs in the ceiling burst. You could feel your hair lift with static electricity.

A foreboding weight fell over your body. Infinity pressed on you form all directions, a dominating force, threatening to throw you back at best and crush your bones at worst. "Okay! Okay, just. . . just breathe. I'm not going anywhere."

All you could see was his back. Tall, lean, towering up between you. "I should have seen it," Satoru rambled, "stopped him, I have to save the world - I can't save my friend, I'm cursed-"

"Breathe, Satoru." You said with volume. Finally, his shoulders heaved and you heard a muffled, ragged exhale. The invisible barrier between your hand and the back of his shirt shrunk. "I know you're not used to hearing it, but there's nothing you could have done, and. . . I'd never let you be cursed." Your added with a thunderstorm in your chest. Too much. You'd said too much.

The gap between your hand and his back closed entirely. Sparks of static tingled where your fingertips grazed the fabric of his shirt. He was damp with sweat.

Satoru's chilling eyes - still activated - peaked at you over his shoulder. He knew what you meant.

You pulled your hand to your chest. Eye contact was impossible. "Look, it's going slower than I thought, but I'm getting stronger. Soon I'll be able to help you more, so you won't have to do so much by yourself."

He faced you. "Don't make me laugh." He replied bitterly. Unfortunately for him, you saw right through the facade. Your other hand reached to graze over the stress line in his forehead, and his eyes fell closed involuntarily.

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked.

"Last night." He said, eyes still closed.

"More than a couple hours."

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

His eyes opened again. This time they were dim, calm.

"Where are your glasses?"

"Broke." Satoru had you follow his gaze to where they lay a few feet away, frame twisted beyond repair and lenses nothing but a mess of shards. You delved into your backpack and revealed a crisp roll of white wrap. He shied away when you attempted to cover his eyes with it. "What are you doing?"

"You're eyes are getting stronger. I thought something like this would happen so," you held up the roll like it was its own answer, "sealing bandages to keep your eyes from bothering you as much - see?" You proved your point when his eyes began to flicker against his will. Satoru pinched them shut, hissing. He let you bring his face down to your level, mumbling childishly while you fiddled to get the bandages under his unruly hair.

"Least I don't get tired anymore."

Yes. How could you forget Toji's attempted murder and Satoru's new 'awakening'. Just thinking of the memory burned a pit into your stomach, but you words remained casual. "Only you would learn reversed technique on the brink of death."

Satoru frowned. Your cursed energy became tainted with worry. He nestled into your shoulder, enjoying the subtle skitter of your heart in response. "Like to keep you guessing."

"It's been a while. Do you still like temple massages?" You asked, your thumb rubbing the scar on his forehead.

He sighed, putting a little more weight on you. "I won't stop you."

TWENTY

Apparently, you didn't learn your lesson the first time Satoru's technique almost killed you. Where Blue took out a building, Purple took out a whole forest. You were in the hospital for days and Satoru barely left your room to shower. His six eyes never quit assessing you, and sensed you were waking a full hour before your eyes opened. Even with all that time to prepare, he still lost his breath when your hazy gaze finally - finally - set itself on his. It felt like he was able to use both lungs again.

"S'toru?" You garbled. How was it a chore to breathe?

His hands couldn't stay away from you. Cheeks, hair, eyelids, jawline, lips, every touch feathery, nearly soothing you back to sleep. Satoru's smile was blurry, but his voice was clear. "Took you long enough."

You would have brought him closer if your arms would cooperate. "Your eyes."

"Gotta see when you're waking up. You got pretty messed up."

"No," you denied, "they're bloodshot. . . got bags." As ethereal as they were, it wasn't the activation of the six eyes itself you were concerned with. His skin was ashen. He looked. . . normal. Human.

"Barely awake two minutes and already dishing it out." He smirked. It didn't reach the rest of his sunken face. Was it possible he lost weight?

"How long. . .?"

"Have you been here? Eight days." Satoru plucked a loose strand of hair and laid it behind your ear. "You lost a lot of blood, but Shoko said nothing should be permanent. That curse user won't touch you ever again. I made sure of it."

Oh. Like he didn't have enough to do already. Satoru never had help, even in the midst of his own death after fighting Toji. Sudden thoughts of mortality, grieving, love, and the torture you experienced looking at the reserved, melancholy look in Satoru's eyes were forcing tears onto your lashes before you realized what was happening. A soggy exhale was all you could do to keep calm. Your hands struggled to lift off the bed. "C-Can I ho-old you?"

"Of course," he said, pulling your arms up until they locked behind his neck. Poor thing, your cursed energy was a mess. "You're on a lot of medication right now, just breathe." He added before he pressed a long kiss to your forehead. Then your eyelids. Then your nose.

"Don't stop." You pleaded. It wasn't enough.

His lips finally fell to yours. Again and again he delivered you from life and to a euphoric heaven.

"Never."

A steady grip on your chin forced your head up and Satoru began to lovingly reacquaint himself with your neck. There was little else you could do than clutch his shirt in your fingers until your knuckles creaked and your breath ran away. Slow kisses, gentle lavs of his tongue, and the occasional rub of his canines over your artery were an intoxicating insanity. One of your hands had to cover your mouth to prevent the whole floor from hearing you, but judging by the wet, heaving breaths Satoru was gasping into your throat, you weren't the only one losing composure.

His own hand moved to the back of your head while the other delved under your body and crushed your chest to his. The bed barely contained his height, with one foot bracing him on the floor and the other hanging off the end of the mattress. Even then his shoulders were taller than yours and broad enough to cover both sides of the bed.

Between his weight and the mattress, you thought you'd get engulfed by heat and a dazed kind of insanity quickly drowning your brain.

The pressure on your throat mounted. Satoru rushed his words like he couldn't bear to be away from your neck longer than a moment at a time. "Thought I'd never kiss this neck again, you have no idea how much I missed this."

Teeth pinched at your skin.

"S-Satoru-"

He prayed into your neck, "so damn sorry. . ."

Crackles of electricity arced between him, you, and the bed, the very air growing excited, too. First blue, then red, and finally purple. The flourescent light bars swayed and jostled in an invisible torrent and the various machines flickered until they died or were simply forced away from the bed, skidding on their wheels.

His bites became more aggressive. Before, you worried about bruising, and now you felt like blood would stream down your skin and stain sheets. The softness of his hair tickling your chin was a stark contrast to the sharp points digging into your neck.

"Satoru. . . you. . . calm down," you barely managed with the static in your head. At this point, you were beginning not to care what he did as long as it meant he didn't let go. Public safety be damned.

A knee knocked its way between your legs. You yelped, and the sound of pain helped finally knock some sense into him. The EKG screen returned to normal, albeit with a few busted pixels, and read a heartrate close to exploding.

Satoru didn't look much better, though. When he could finally separate from you, finally lay you back on the bed so he could sit up himself, his eyes were pulsating and he sluggishly wiped a smear of spit from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. When his eyes saw the mark he'd left behind, they drooped, satisfied and quelled, if temporarily.

He was still out of breath when he found some words to string together, "I got a little. . . carried away."

TWENTY-TWO

You were dying. The curses foot-long claws in your stomach told you as much. Was the cold in your body from the loss of blood or from the nighttime rain soaking you to the bone? Now you couldn't be sure.

The darkness made the blue so much brighter.

Satoru appeared out of nowhere, cerulean electricity dancing on his clothes. Later, he'd tell you he somehow felt a change in the air even from a hundred miles away, and teleported without knowing he could.

His eyes blazed unnaturally bright - even for him - when he saw the curse's claws slowly pulling out of your body. The air turned purple, lightning in the clouds overhead brightened the forest for a moment, wind tossing your hair with a wild gust.

The next second, Satoru was beside you, and the curse's neck was in his hand. His grin was strange, but his laugh scared you the most. Usually he could never stop talking, but right now you'd prefer anything over the wheezy, broken cackle he couldn't help but release.

He squeezed his fingers just to enjoy the strangled garbles from the monster. "You? You thought you could hurt her?" Satoru rambled amidst his chuckles. Then he and the curse disappeared.

Next, the curse still in hand, he reappeared a ways away, several feet in the air, and let the curse fall to the earth. Satoru teleported under it, letting its back fall into his fist where he catapulted it back up. Again he moved in an instant, above it now, and kicked it back to the ground hard enough to open up a crater and blow you back to the treeline with the shockwave. The indomitable force of cursed energy crushing you to the ground made it impossible to get us or run away.

Satoru stepped in the crater with the grace of a dancer. "You know what? Do it."

The monster screamed when he held it up by its jaw and squeezed until the bone crumpled and gushed blood all over him. He dropped it freely, allowing it the chance to run. The curse scrambled for footing, made it out of the crater, and galloped towards you before Satoru teleported next to it and stopped it with one long leg pinning it down.

He kicked the thing several yards until it stilled a few feet away from you, gasping and writhing.

Satoru stalked towards you both. Each long stride was slow, meandering, barely disturbing the wet grass beneath his shoes. His head was down, and his hair covered his eyes. All you heard was a dark tone come from the shadow. "Try to kill her again. Try to defeat me by going after my one weakness. I'll even give you a hand, here."

He grabbed it by the scruff and threw it over your shoes. "Everything else has been taken from me, why stop? Come on. Try harder. What, spine broken? That's a pathetic excuse. Get up."

The stranger in front of you kicked the creature. It let out a feeble whine. "Get up." He said again with another kick. And another. And another. "Get up. Getup getup getup getup getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!!"

Satoru bludgeoned the creature with his heel again and again and again. Sickening crunches and squelches had you covering your mouth to try and keep from vomiting. Each stomp of his foot distorted the creature until it was little more than a carcass.

"Satoru, stop!"

Thunder growled in the sky. An ominous pause filled the air.

His eyes peeked sideways at you, then, he cocked his head in your direction. The tiny, calculated movement had your heart hitting the ground. He had assessed you and deemed you unworthy as a threat in the same second.

"You think you can stop me?" A fierce wind lashed at you. "Tell me - tell me how you'd stop me!"

Even the shouts of Nanami and Shoko and Utahime in the distance couldn't reach him.

He was losing himself. Perhaps forever.

Rain turned sideways in the accelerating torrent. Satoru tilted his head skyward, arms out and palms up, embracing the storm. "I can see everything, hear everything, be anywhere at anytime. With my thoughts, I make the universe."

Then, his gaze fell on you.

"Watch." He snickered.

With a roar from the ground, chasms carved open the earth all around you. A patch of dirt fell from under his feet but Satoru hovered above it, completely dry despite the downpour soaking you to the bone. He giggled, carefree, maniacal, and foreign. This wasn't the person who had stolen your first kiss.

A shadow erupted from him, blocking out all surroundings - the wind and rain and cold - until it was just you and him, alone in an imaginary world. Nebulae and galaxies filled the darkness until it was bright with starlight. Sound disappeared until you could hear your own blood in your veins.

Domain expansion.

Satoru was giggling while tears fell off his cheeks. For all his eyes could see, they seemed to be looking at nothing. Your heart felt the impending demise. This was it. No way you'd survive the domain of Satoru Gojo. You tried to remember the scared little boy by the pond 18 years ago. He was much happier then.

You almost enjoyed the tears falling down your own cheeks. Perhaps it was fate that you'd end up dying at Satoru's hand after all the close calls. You only hoped he wouldn't blame himself for this later, or that someone would call for his extermination.

With one remaining moment, you did the only thing you could think of.

"I love you." You said, and you closed your eyes.

The chaotic buzz in your body stopped. The fear quieted. You felt a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of tree leaves came back.

A raindrop fell on your cheek.

You opened your eyes, seeing the normal world around you in a wave of relief, but feeling fear all over again when you saw Satoru, his hands holding his head, shouting at the power warring within his mind.

"Make it stop!" He yelled.

"It's okay, Satoru," you gasped, holding your stomach and swallowing the grunt of pain, "just breathe, it'll pass."

Your body gave out. Without a choice you fell back into the grass. The dark, rolling clouds flickered with occasional lightning. You don't know how long you watched, but it was beautiful.

Satoru crouched over you, eyes downcast but still bright with his technique. A reptilian fear response kicked in a rush of adrenaline allowed you to scramble back. His hand hovered, outstretched, reaching for you. Satoru's eyes showed shock and hurt.

"You're afraid of me." He called across the vast space between you.

"I'm - I'm sorry." You said. You tried to crawl back to him but the injuries finally became too much and you collapsed just as he ran to close the gap, pulling you into his lap and trying to staunch the hole in your belly. You moaned at the pressure.

"F-Fuck, I can't remember, what'd I do-"

Your voice was quiet. He hardly heard you over the pounding storm. "You saved me. I'm fi-ine."

"No you're not. Your cursed energy's all over the place, damn it." Satoru smushed his forehead to yours, taking a massive inhale. "Don't you leave me, too."

"Hey," you called, raising a thumb to massage the worry line between his brows, "remember when I said I'd try to - heh - get better? So you wouldn't. . . have to worry."

"Yeah?"

"Well. . ." you added, putting your hand over your stomach. Slowly, a faint white orb covered your wound, and Satoru watched your cursed energy glow and the injury begin to gradually sew itself shut. "You're not the only strong one."

He watched in awe, a little smile on his lips. This time a familiar, genuine one. He held you softly in his gaze in a way that warmed you without touch. You nestled against his shoulder and prepared for the long recovery and the impending clinginess of the man holding you. Satoru's eyes always gave him away.

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