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cloud9gojo · 2 months ago

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salt & the sea

consider this a one-shot for now, i really just wanted to get this prologue style chapter for my self-infsert suguru fic out there it was eating me alive. this is so on a whim, i don't have a header, nor do i expect anyone to actually read this lol. if you do like it, hmu @peachygf

pairing: geto x f!reader if we ever make it there

words: 4.2k

warnings: sfw they're kids bro, sign language, synesthesia, kid awkwardness, me being awkward, there ya go

also made a playlist for this but it's on apple music 😭 lmk if you're into that and i can convert it or smth

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December 1997

The morning of December 27th in the Inumaki household was chaotic.

Some months prior, it was decided that the disgraced, elder Inumaki son, Miharu, and his family would be offered redemption through certain means. During July, in the southern part of Japan, a sorcerer with the potential to become a special grade was discovered. They had no family lineage and the powers-that-be would have your family introduce them to jujutsu society. The order had been passed down that they would train alongside the son's eldest child, in both theory and practical study, until they attended Jujutsu High at fourteen years of age. That is if they survived that long.

So when your parents sit you down and make you promise to be on your best behavior, to not antagonize, make fun of, or laugh at your guests or there would be consequences, dirty dishwater-related consequences, you say yes. You promise them you will be good, nice, and welcoming.

At first, it was easy because it was exciting! Everyone (except Akari, who was drooling in her crib) was bustling with frantic energy, cleaning, and then going over the entire house. Making sure everything was in its place; flowers in the foyer, record playing in the living room, new sake ready to be opened on the counter. You even tolerated your little sister's incessant babbling and following afternoon tantrums with a great attitude. Granted, you couldn't hear her cries at full volume, but still, you were a good sport about the whole thing. You were more focused on the idea of training with another sorcerer your age and what gifts your parents might bring back from their visit to Jujutsu High in Tokyo next month. It was going to be a good new year.

When your guests arrived, your family had arranged themselves at your home's entrance. A poised, respectable sorcerer family welcoming a newly awakened sorcerer and their parents. Who you knew from peaking at your parents' signing during movie night, were normal humans, not a trace of cursed energy on them. (Your parents should really be more careful where they sign.)

Greeting the couple was nice and normal enough, you were bright and of course, the perfect host. You interpreted for your parents perfectly, like you had been doing for the majority of your life, "The Inumaki's are honored to be coordinating your child's sorcerer training."

"The honor is ours, thank you for allowing us into your home. Why, it's so beautiful!" Mrs. Geto's voice was soft to your ears, but the color of it radiated a light pink that settled neatly in the air around her. Her smile was sly, but inviting. She reminded you of a fox, especially with the way her updo gave her two bumps on her head that looked like little ears. You pursed your mouth to match hers and decided to keep that happy little thought to yourself.

You spared a glance at their son who had at first sight seemed ordinary like you. His bow was short and curt, his name lost to your wooden flooring. Only when prompted by his mother did he repeat it, "Geto Suguru. Pleased to meet you." The sound waves around him bent the light strangely, making the shadows curl around him even though the foyer was well-lit.

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, soft like his mother's but not at all like the soft pink she gave off. The color of his voice was deep indigo and unnerving. The waves refused to settle, creating a dark corona around the boy. It had you straightening your back, setting your shoulders up, back, and then down at attention.

"Inumaki. Pleased to meet you." Your bow wasn't as low as it should have been, but you had your eyes trained on him, making sure you saw every single movement.

The Getos, you're sure, were impressed with you either way. Especially with how grown up you were for a child your age (it's what every other adult seemed to say after meeting you). It was only natural, you were a jujutsu sorcerer after all. Or at least on your way to being a first-grade one. Right now though, all you were was a seven-year-old being told to make nice with some stranger.

"Go play, try to be friendly. You're going to be spending more time together soon." Your father's usually composed signing was rushed as he ushered you both through the backdoor and hurried to get back to where your guests were seated in the living room. His anxiety was visible, he had been going on and on about this day for a month straight. Finally, he would be respected again. (Or something like that, you tried not to peer in on your parents' private conversations in their bedroom. Most of the time.)

You were pretty sure he was happier to share his special sake and show off his vintage record collection than to talk about jujutsu society, those poor, poor people. They would have to get by on pen-and-paper conversations and charades with your tipsy parents while you were exiled outside with their son.

Alarm bells start ringing in your head finally being alone with him. He was just a little kid like you, all knobby knees and awkward limbs, but you could tell he was powerful. You don't know whether to run from him or fight him. You struggle, momentarily stuck to your spot, but ultimately decide against fighting. You would be going in blind and set a bad first impression.

Both of you stand apart, facing out into your backyard. A small garden that your mother keeps up is in the center, while the rest grows tall and wild around an old patio set towards the far right corner. A desire path is starting to form along the edges from your many trips back and forth from the beach that was just beyond the green belt of tall grasses at the end of your property. You let your eyes trace it as you chew on your lip, considering how to befriend this boy beside you.

You don't know what he can do exactly, only seeing your parents discuss it once in passing; Cursed Manipulation. What things he could manipulate was a mystery, all you knew was that you didn't want it to be you. Your mind screamed danger! but you had to get to know this strange boy, now that you were going to start training with him in the new year. After your eighth birthday, so you could still have time with your family before getting serious.

You pout and think of how your father had made you promise to be nice this morning. But you didn't feel like playing outside with this weird, jittery kid now! You wanted to cry, it was either this or dish duty for a month and you would rather die than touch nasty dishwater. So you make down the steps into the yard two at a time, in a huff, only partially caring if Geto follows you or not. (He does, with his hands in his pockets, taking his sweet time.)

Walking into the garden, you watch the air ripple with little bursts of color in every step. When you reach the patio set, you plop down facing the tall grasses at the back. It gives you a view of the sunset peaking through the blades, pale yellow into a muted blue sky.

Geto wiggles his chair out from under the table and positions it to face the same way as yours. He all but falls backward into it, releasing a long sigh when he settles. You sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye. He's slouching so much, you're surprised he's still on the cushion, but he looks content to be watching the sky. You turn to watch little bugs flitter through the evening air. The beating hum of their wings gave off tiny warm yellow waves. At least they were a nice distraction from your present company.

"So, are you going to tell me your name?"

His voice almost makes you jump out of your seat. When you face him, he has his cocked to the side, a bored expression on his face. You masterfully pull yours into a kind expression, no dirty dishes for you. "Inumaki, remember?" You say it sweetly, to make up for the fact that it's not the answer he's looking for. You're not dumb, you know what he's asking you, but you don't want him to know your first name. Not yet, at least.

Geto scowls before turning away from you once again.

You sigh in frustration, you had been looking forward to having a friend, someone like you who wasn't three, stinky, and drooling. (Sorry to your sister, but she was just not very fun right now.) You were fighting an uphill battle of social awkwardness with Suguru Geto and losing. You weren't used to failing, ever. If this is how it's going to be between you both, then what would training look like in the spring?

Your parents believe you're being a good host, so that's some good-daughter points for you. Ugh, but if you don't try, then nothing is going to change between you both and you'll be stuck with your stinky sister your whole life. Yuck! You conclude that you can't rely on him to make the first move. You're the host, you make the conversation. It doesn't mean that Suguru Geto is going to be your best friend, but maybe you can get a powerful ally out of him. You perk up in your seat, yeah, you could make that work!

Working together with other sorcerers is important long term, if you're going to persevere in and preserve the jujutsu world. Maybe, if you tell him about when you first got your cursed technique, it'll make him feel more comfortable.

The thing is, you don’t really remember when your technique manifested.

You remember the heat and stickiness of the day. It must have been late summer, in the rainy season. A rare sunny day, no clouds in sight, spent at the park near your home. Your very pregnant mother sitting down watching you, laughing along with your high-pitched giggles. The red of the picnic table was a streak in your vision as you flew through the air on the swings, pushed higher and higher by your father. Silent, wearing a mask to cover his clan markings, but happy.

It was so, so hot that day, and the humidity had turned your hair into a frizzy mess. Sweat caused it and your clothes to stick to you uncomfortably, but you didn’t care. The sky was so blue and clear, and the air so crisp. You could see the expanse of the horizon at the top of your swing and the urge to jump was too great, you were weightless when you threw yourself from the seat.

You remember how the sky burst into color halfway down, how everything thrummed with color and strange vibrations. It was so pretty that you screamed with joy at the sight of sound waves emanating from everything. It was exactly how your mother described how she saw the world through her technique. The overload of visual information then clouded over the fact that everything was quieter. Like the volume set at full was dialed down quicker than your little brain could register.

You were only four or five when that happened. Suguru Geto, seven, is a late bloomer by jujutsu standards. The thought makes you want to laugh, but you hold it in and then calmly release it as a breath of air. Whew, that was close.

The evening was turning into night and the wind was cold against your arms causing goosebumps. Pieces of your hair were flying around your face, getting caught in your glasses and mouth. You sputter and push it back behind your ears for the hundredth time, even now it refuses to stay in place. You notice the indigo of Geto's sneaky giggles more than you can hear them.

"Are you laughing at me?" Geto, looking unashamed about being caught, meets your eyes only once before turning to watch the swaying grasses. You frown and follow his gaze, yup, still grass and sky. Beyond that was the color of the distant sound waves from the water crashing against the sand, although you know Geto can't see them like you could. You turn to face him once more, wishing he would at least try to keep eye contact with you. Or make conversation. Or do anything besides stare at stupid beach grass!

"You sound kinda funny." He tells you this very casually, like it's not the first thing he's said that wasn't a greeting or a question.

You blink at him, incredulous. "I don't get to use my voice that often." You're fully facing him now, bracing yourself on the patio chair's arm.

"Is it because your parents use their hands to talk?"

Did he really just ask you that?

"Yes."

"Oh."

Be nice, be nice, be nice. "My father can't speak because of his technique and my mother and I have some hearing loss from our own so it just makes sense for us to use sign," you manage, after a lengthy pause.

“Oh.”

He’s still not facing you, have you done something wrong that you missed? Your family wasn’t exactly the most social, maybe it was you. Were you the one being weird? You can’t tell if he's being mean or not, but you also don't know why he would be mean to you in the first place so maybe you're overthinking it. You've never made a friend before, but surely it can't be this hard.

"When you see curses, are you afraid of them?" When he says it he doesn't face you so you have to read his lips to make out the parts you miss.

You take a moment to mull it over. "No, I already know some defensive techniques so I think I could protect myself. Low-level ones I feel like I could kill easily." You smile at that, remembering how your parents said your barrier technique was very strong for your age. It made you happy that you had a sound-related technique like your mom. You liked being like her, strong and beautiful, but also kind. (You were still working on that last part.)

"What about the stronger ones? Would you run or fight?" This time when he says it, Geto's gaze is so steady, you couldn't escape it if you wanted to. His pale face was open and honest.

"I'd fight." You try to keep your face earnest and keep eye contact, you want him to know you're being truthful. When you focus on them, his eyes are a dark amber framed by straight, long eyelashes. (Annoying, how boys always got pretty lashes without even having to try.)

Geto presses his lips into a thin line before casting his eyes back to the horizon past the grass. "I'd run."

You giggle at that, trying to imagine this string bean of a boy running from some scary curse. "I guess we'll have to work on that when we see each other again in the new year. Right?" You smile when he looks back at you. If you relax and keep making conversation, then training will go well the next time you meet. Having him warm up to you also means a boost to your strength, in the end.

Which means you have to be good at this making friends thing. You want to be good at it, for your parents who rely on you to carry on their legacy. For your sister, who will look up to you as you both get older. And for this new kid, who has no one else in his family like him. Who was assigned to the closest sorcerer family available so that he's prepared for jujutsu society—your family. Maybe, you think, you could be good for him and whip him into shape by the time you both attend Jujutsu High and start taking missions.

He blinks a few too many times before slouching even more than you thought possible, (looking at his posture was making your neck ache) and giving you a small, "Sure."

Another beat of silence, and you think he's going to let this one stretch out before he asks another question. "So why can't your dad talk?"

You laugh at his bold line of questioning this time, "My dad comes from a long line of cursed speech users. That's why his mouth has those little markings, even though they're a little faded. They're the symbol of our family, the Inumakis." You decide not to tell Geto why your father's marks are faded or why he jumped at the opportunity to sponsor him. That's all stressful, adult stuff.

"And your mom? She can talk, but doesn't?" Geto arches his eyebrow at you and you wonder, does he know that it lets you know he's asking a question? He's already good at nonverbal communication, you don't have to think too hard about what he means when he's facing you.

You shake your head and lift yourself up from your seat with great effort, ready to head back towards your house. "My mom and I can talk, but it's easier when we can all just sign what we mean, together." It's a simple explanation, you hope he accepts it.

Geto pulls himself from his seat to follow you, this time side by side. "What's her technique like?"

You suck air into your cheeks, making a big show of contemplating your answer. "My mother has control over sound and pressure waves at the molecular level." You take your time sounding out the complicated words, you don't actually know what pressure, let alone molecular means. "She can create barriers with sound the same way I can. We can also see the sound waves in the air. My brain is so used to it though that I don't even focus on that anymore. Like when your brain ignores your nose, you know?" You crinkle your nose at him, twitching the tip of it like a bunny. It makes him laugh and you smile, you like the color of it much more than normal conversation. "But because we can see all that stuff, our hearing isn't as strong as other peoples. It doesn't feel any different though, I don't remember a time before it."

You've never had to say all these big words out loud before, you catch Geto laughing at the way you're pronouncing some of them. You tut disapprovingly at him but laugh with him also. You probably do sound a little funny.

He hums and swings his hands back and forth, the effort making his t-shirt sway on his frame like a big pillowcase. "Is it only barriers you can make with sound?"

You hum, thoughtful. "I haven't really tried anything else, but that's why I'm excited to train with you in the spring!"

"Is that what you think we'll be working on when we see each other next?"

You focus on the way he shapes his vowels, how they stretch and flow, before looking back at his eyes. "Mmm, probably not. My dad will make us start with the basics of cursed energy and breathing techniques. Prepare for lots of meditating, my dad loves to put on his jazz music every morning for stretches and quiet time, it's awful. Let's see what else..." You tap your chin, thinking. "Then we might move on to basic fighting forms, which I've barely gotten to practice." You see the familiar notes of your father's records seep from the house as you get closer to the steps of your porch. When you reach them, you each take a seat next to each other.

Geto smiles at you, like his mother it's sly, but more smug than anything. More music escapes into the air behind him as faint swirls of color. Pretty, you think. "I'm already pretty good at fighting, I take after-school lessons. Or, at least I used to." His brow furrows at that last sentence. Suddenly displeased, he turns to stare at the ants crossing near your feet.

You note the shift with a frown. You've never been to a regular school, you've been taught by your mom and dad your whole life. Math, science, reading, all that boring stuff. You've never experienced public school, so you don't know exactly what it is that Geto might miss.

This is an exciting opportunity for you and your family, something you were looking forward to and happy about. Getting to introduce someone to jujutsu society is a great honor, but it doesn't seem like that's how it is for Geto. You lean forward to try and catch his eyes again. "Are you going to miss it?"

He eyes you from behind his dark hair, debating his answer. "I'm going to miss my teacher and my friends. I thought we would all be together until high school or something like that." He closes his eyes and takes a breath. You see his lip shake more than you can hear the quiver in his voice. "I didn't ask to be a sorcerer."

Something hard has formed in your throat watching this boy you were just laughing with almost cry in front of you. You force it down and take a moment to think about what it was like moments after your technique manifested. Chaotic, too bright all at once, and then quiet. You definitely started crying at some point after your joy turned to fear. But your parents had never hid their culture from you, so curses and cursed energy weren't anything new. It was more overwhelming than scary.

Before you can try to comfort Geto, the backdoor slides open and a flurry of color fills your vision. Your mother stands in the doorway, jovial and laughing until seeing Geto's expression.

"What's going on?" She steps forward, displeased.

You jump up to try and rectify the situation. "We were just talking about his school!"

Your mother purses her lips and looks between you both now that Geto is standing on the step above you. "We'll discuss this later. Come inside and say goodbye."

You whine and hang your head in defeat knowing you can't sway your mother. "Yes, ma'am."

You look at Geto and motion for him to go inside first. "Mom says that they're finished. Let's go."

You suck in your lip, chewing on your unspoken words, and trudge into the house behind him. You watch the trail of indigo his footsteps leave behind, he must scuff his feet along the floor. Something pangs in your chest, you don't want him to leave you sad or mad at you. Before that mess about school, you started to get along.

Before he can get too far away from you, you reach out to tug on his shirt. "Geto, wait."

His hands are in his pockets and he's slouching so much you're surprised he's still upright, but he gazes you over his shoulder with an arched brow, a silent acknowledgment.

You drop your hand back to your side, letting go of his shirt. "I just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to seeing you. Next time, you know? This is all new for me, I've never trained with anyone my age so I want this to go well. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings asking about your school." You cringe at how it all spills out. Much too fast and eager, you're not used to speaking out loud so much. But, it gets him to turn fully towards you before entering the foyer.

"I know, Inumaki-san. I'm happy to be training with you too, but leaving my friends and everything else behind isn't easy. Not for me, anyway."

You stare back at him, wanting to comfort him all over again, but all that comes out is, "Okay." You want to smack yourself, you are so lame.

For some reason, he lets a hint of a smile come over his face. "Okay." He nods before continuing, "I'll see you in the new year."

With that, both of you enter the foyer to be with your parents. You skip past Geto so you can be by your parents' side to interpret their goodbyes. You preen as your father smooths your hair back with his hand. Its warm familiar weight settles on your shoulder. You did a good job tonight, making Geto feel welcome to the best of your ability. However socially awkward you were, you got him to have a solid conversation with you. Next time will be even better.

The three of you walk them out and down the steps of your home. It's later than you thought it was and you're starting to get sleepy. You return Geto's little wave through the glass window of his parents' car.

When you get back inside, you make your parents wait with you until you see the lights of the Geto's car fade from view before you turn off the porch lights. Your father carries you to bed, and your mother tucks you in and sings you a lullaby. Your sister is already asleep in her bed next to yours. It was a good night, you think before letting your heavy eyelids rest.

When you finally drift off into sleep, your dreams are full of inky indigos and soft pink clouds, with little foxes jumping between their misty hiding spots while you giggle watching them.

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