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suguwu · 2 months ago

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WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings.

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.”

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides.

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.”

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji.

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet.

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun.

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair.

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again.

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa.

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly.

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.”

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say.

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering.

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate.

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod.

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji.

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath.

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.”

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!”

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control.

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.”

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth.

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.”

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.”

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir.

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum.

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon.

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.”

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down.

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.”

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.”

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky.

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.”

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.”

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms.

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately.

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words.

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo.

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do.

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training.

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring.

Life, ever unmoved, continues on.

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle.

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes.

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist.

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #bee writes jjk #fic: would that i

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candy69gurl · 8 months ago

Note

i was thinking a jjk req.

the reader is shy and kind but one day as they were pushed towards his limits and saw Yuji hurt,they lost it so they true power pops outs,they become more derangered,crazy,bloodthirtsy as they slash the head off of the enemy and did a mass genocide of their opponent and they laughed isterically covered in blood with a toothy sharp smile like this?

and they basycally become more fast and stronger

(idk this is more based on my jjk sona but...i hope its okay?)

Unstoppable

Yuji Itadori x gn!reader

Warnings- mentions of violence (fight with curse)

wc- 1.5k

Tags- @sweetchildcloud @rabbidbunwy

Your concerns prove to be prophetic. The Special Grade Cursed Spirit regroups, reemerging with renewed vigor. This time, it's bearing an even darker countenance, lunging with a vengeance. Unable to react in time, Yuji gets knocked unconscious by its unrelenting onslaught.

Helplessness floods you as you watch Yuji collapse under the Cursed Spirit's brutal attack. Fear gives way to determination, driving you to action.

You could vaguely hear their conversations as they passed by. They spoke of all sorts of things—the current status of the curse and how the first semester of school was going for them. Nothing overly interesting, but nothing to complain about either.

However, someone caught up to you quickly and walked along with you.

“Hey.”

You looked over to see a tall guy with strawberry blonde hair walking alongside you.

“Hi,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks flush slightly at his sudden appearance.

“I heard you’re the new kid on campus—Y/N, right?” Yuji asked, smiling warmly as he walked beside you.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, still not used to hearing yourself admit such a thing out loud.

“Well, don’t worry too much. You’re among friends here,” he continued with a reassuring grin. "I'm Yuji Itadori, by the way. And we're in the same class, so we'll be seeing a lot of each other. You can come to me if you ever need help or just want to chat, alright?"

Yuji's hand brushed against yours briefly, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. He had a friendly demeanour that put you at ease, making it hard to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Your cheeks felt warmed once again, and you found it difficult to meet his gaze. You managed to muster a forced smile in response.

"Thanks, Yuji... I really appreciate that. I'm still getting used to all of this." You gestured towards the school, trying to hide your nerves behind a polite facade.

As the weeks went by, you and Yuji grew increasingly comfortable with each other. The once-strained atmosphere transformed into an environment of easy camaraderie and mutual understanding. Sharing laughter, tears, joys, and fears, you began to feel a bond unlike any other.

Today, after a particularly grueling training session, you were hanging out with Yuji. The city lights flickered below, casting a prismatic glow upon both of you.

"You know…" Yuji started softly, shifting to turn onto his side to face you

"We're getting pretty close now, huh?" He asked, his eyes reflecting the twinkle of stars overhead.

"Yeah..." Your fingers hesitated before seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "It feels like...we're unstoppable together, you know?" You whispered, glancing at Yuji's hand that now rested securely in yours. The warmth from his touch made its way up your arm, spreading throughout your entire body.

"Unstoppable," he repeated thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly.

"I like that," Yuji murmured, leaning closer to you, "you know Y/N, I don't want to lose you. Never"

You looked at his eyes, his eyes sparkled with love, "I don't want to lose you either"

"Y/N, I promise I will always protect you", he moved a strand of your hair from your face. Your lips were mere inches apart when the sweet moment between you and Yuji was abruptly interrupted by a blood-curdling scream echoing through the night air. You exchanged panicked glances before springing into action, charging towards the source of the piercing sound.

Upon reaching the location of the scream, you and Yuji found a small child, who was in the verge of death. A special grade cursed spirit, with its twisted, tendril-like limbs writhed about, wrapping the child.

Terror overwhelmed you as you beheld the horrific sight. The little child, trapped within the sinister, grasping tendrils of the Special Grade Cursed Spirit. As you retreated, fear etched every line of your features, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The sheer magnitude of the threat hit you like a ton of bricks. This was your first encounter with a Cursed Spirit - no amount of education or training could've prepared you for the raw horror of it. Tears streamed freely down your face as fear seized your heart.

Yuji, however, remained stoic, his gaze fixed firmly on the terrifying beast before him.

"Stay back!" Yuji barked, already preparing to engage the monster. He activated his cursed technique, and his eyes gleamed with determination as he lunged forward. His fists connected with the massive creature, sending shock waves through its form. The child managed to escape it's grip, running away from the area as soon as he could, crying for his mom.

From a safe distance, you watched in terror as Yuji fought valiantly against the monstrous curse. His fists lashed out with incredible speed and power, cracking the ground beneath him. Yet, the creature seemed unfazed by his assault.

Despite your overwhelming fear, you wished desperately to assist Yuji. You knew that standing idle while he risked his life would be irresponsible. However, paralyzing dread gripped your body, holding you back. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he continued to strike the massive entity.

In the midst of the battlefield, the air shimmered with the intensity of Yuji's battle against the colossal Cursed Spirit. Each punch sent tremors rippling through the earth as he tirelessly sought to free the trapped child. His cursed technique radiated power, painting the air with a blue aura.

Against this relentless onslaught, the creature's form quivered, yet it did not falter completely.

The air around Yuji grew thick with anticipation as he readied his ultimate move. With a swift motion, he darted forward in a blur, utilizing his Black Flash technique.

His movements became a blur, leaving streaks of distorted air in his wake. The Cursed Spirit was caught off guard, struggling to keep up with his rapid attacks. Witnessing this display left you in awe, even amidst the terror.

For a brief moment, hope sparked in your heart. Just as Yuji landed a devastating blow, the enemy's remaining tendrils recoiled, vanishing into the shadows. The freed child lay unconscious on the ground, narrowly escaping death.

Your heart pounded wildly in relief as Yuji staggered back, panting heavily from the exertion. He collapsed onto one knee, a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion etching his features.

"Are you okay?" you asked him.

"I'm fine," Yuji managed, forcing a brave smile despite the strain evident in his voice. But the curse's swift strike left him comatose.

Closing your eyes tightly, you summon the courage to fight. Drawing from the lessons learned at Jujutsu High, you focused on the curse, attempting to channel your powers to aid Yuji.

The newfound resolve surges through your veins, pushing away the fear that have previously paralyzed you. With a deep breath, you focus intently on the Cursed Spirit, determine to aid Yuji.

As the enemy draws near, your cursed energy ignites, it surges into your katana. The demonic essence within you seethes, fueling a thirst for destruction. Like a frenzied predator, you unleash your power upon the Cursed Spirit. Your once-friendly features contorts into a ghastly, bloodthirsty visage as you swing your weapon, decapitating it with a single stroke.

Blood dripping from your teeth, staining your smile crimson as you laugh maniacally. "That's what you get bad for attacking innocent people," you cackle maniacally, showering the area with gore as you continue your rampage. Your laughter echoes eerily through the silent night, punctuated by the sickening crunch of each blow.

Finally, exhausted, you collapse to the ground, panting heavily. Purple Blood paints your hands and clothes, creating a gruesome tableau. Your laughter subsides, replaced by heavy breathing as the adrenaline begins to wear off. A wave of guilt and horror sweeps over you, washing away the madness. Your eyes lock with Yuji's unconscious form on the ground, and remorse floods your heart.

"Y-Yuji…" you manage, reaching out tentatively to touch his chest, checking for any signs of life.

Thankfully, Yuji stirrs slightly, his eyelids fluttering weakly. Relief washes over you as you realized he was still alive.

"Y-Yuji!" You cry out, squeezing his hand gently. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to do that... But we couldn't let those monsters hurt you again..."

He opens his eyes slowly, gazing at you with confusion and concern.

"Y/N..."

Relief floods Yuji's expression as he recognizes your efforts to save him. Gratefulness wells up within him, culminating in a tender smile.

"You...you saved me..." He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes turn teary, "Sorry I couldn't protect you."

"No," you shake your head, wiping away a stray tear, "it's part of the job... protecting each other."

He pulls you close, and as he does, you feel a warmth spreading from your core outwards.

"Thank you..." Yuji whispers, his lips brushing against yours in an intimate gesture filled with gratitude and affection.

The kiss deepens, fervent yet gentle. The lingering scent of battle hangs heavy in the air, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of the moment. Passionate, yet gentle, Yuji's kiss leaves you breathless. In this embrace, all outside stimuli fades away, leaving only you two.

Drawing back slightly, Yuji gazes lovingly into your eyes. "You're amazing, Y/N," his voice is husky, laced with emotion.

"Thank you, Yuji," you respond, "I am nothing without your support"

"Together we are unstoppable, Y/N", his forehead touching yours. The moonlight cast a soft glow upon your faces as you share a loving look, your hearts beating in unison.

"Always by your side, Y/N," Yuji promises fervently, leaning in for another tender kiss.

This time, the kiss is slow and deliberate, filled with love and appreciation. It lingers, fueled by the strength of your bond. When he finally breaks away, he smiles softly.

"We're going to be the strongest duo".

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