Chapter Text
「 2005年11月」
The first time Satoru encounters tears is not until his first year in Jujutsu Tech.
They’re practically non-existent behind the walls of the Gojo clan’s compound. After all, tears are a manifestation of too much emotion. When the body can no longer contain itself, happiness, grief, sadness, love and whatever else overflows. In a clan where any child could potentially manifest either the Limitless or the Six Eyes techniques, control is drilled at a young age.
So it’s not until he escapes the suffocating safety of their sprawling compound that Satoru not only encounters tears, but star tears.
It's nearing winter when it happens; just cold enough for him to enjoy the taiyaki’s steam warming his face, but not too cold that the three of them are chased indoors. They're lounging about in the training field which still looks worse for wear after the Goodwill Event a few months ago left it with patches of bare soil and full of craters.
It’s a rare quiet day for the three of them, largely aided by the fact that Satoru has his mouth full with his third taiyaki and Suguru is too busy dozing on his lap to enable him.
He’s busy pointedly not staring at Suguru’s sleeping face and valiantly resisting the urge to bury his hand in dark locks, so he doesn’t register the soft tinkling sound right away. He thinks it's just the message tone from Shoko's phone.
Shoko's been typing away at the keypad on her crappy prehistoric pitchi phone next to him. One, two, three... four taps on the seventh key. Satoru would bet an entire year's worth of candy that she's texting Utahime.
There's that tinkling sound again. At this point, she's just begging him to tease her. Like, why did she even get off silent mode or vibrate? What kind of freak uses sound notifications? And isn't this a bit too dainty for her? It kind of sounds like really small bells, or maybe very fine crystals clinking against each other... like...
When it finally clicks, he looks up sharply, turning in time to see Shoko wipe the tears away. The sound of chimes against soft wind lingers in the air.
“W-Wha— Are those…?”
“Shut up, it’s rude to stare.”
The cuffs of her jumper that are absorbing the star tears are burning away, melting under the scalding heat.
Satoru has heard of them before, but he’s never seen them in person. Star tears — when the pain of a love unreturned pours out of you like a meteor shower; yearning so strong it burns like stars, consuming everything in its path except its host.
The phone she’s holding catches his eye; the rubber on the seventh key is so worn that the hiragana's barely legible.
“Holy shit, for Utahime?!”
Shoko gives him an unimpressed look. “Will it kill you to not be a dick?”
She flicks some tears over the bag of crepes he was saving for later and the droplets burn tiny holes through the flimsy plastic before evaporating.
“Hey, no! Truce, truce!” he cries, scrambling to take his stash out of her reach, jostling Suguru awake.
“Huh? Is it time to go now?” Suguru mumbles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“No, you can go back to sleep. Gojo’s just being a dick,” Shoko says, still trying to keep the tears in check. The whole cuff of her sleeve is almost gone now, and she’s moved on to using the bottom hem of her jumper.
“So just being himself, then?”
“Suguru!” he whines, pouting. “Shoko tried to damage the crepes you bought me!”
“What did you do to deserve…” Suguru takes his eyes off of Satoru and looks at Shoko’s teary face, and then at her burnt jumper, and then back again just to be sure it’s Shoko crying.
He rubs his eyes again just to be extra sure he isn’t seeing things.
“Holy shit.”
“That’s what I said, and she dripped on my crepes!” Satoru cries.
“Don’t use your jumper! Wait, here--" Suguru ignores him and reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Use this. It’s from starcloth, you can probably use this a couple more times before it burns through.”
Shoko finally looks up and glares at them both, and it’s really strange. If Satoru cried like that (or at least faked it), his eyes would turn so puffy and red that Suguru would fuss like a mother hen until the swelling went away. Shoko’s eyes on the other hand look completely normal, as if her tears weren’t scorching everything it touches.
It's a small mercy perhaps that the star tears don't harm their host. The people who cry them already burn themselves inside out with all the love they have to give but can't.
Suguru forces her to take the handkerchief and she mumbles a thanks under her breath, properly wiping all the new tears away.
Starcloth is made of reinforced materials, meant to be able to soak up a good amount of star tears before burning up. They’re common enough that Satoru can find them in Lawsons, but not so common that a small family-run konbini like the one they frequent at the foot of the mountain would have it in stock.
Suguru didn’t just happen to come across it at the store and decide to buy it on a whim. He must’ve bought it on a trip to the city, intentionally brought it back, and also keeps one in his pocket.
Satoru doesn't want to think about why, so instead, he asks, “Why are you crying anyway?”
“Satoru, you can’t just ask someone why they’re crying, that’s so…” Suguru groans and massages his brow.
“No, I’m not stupid," he says, rolling his eyes. “I know you can’t control them just like you can’t control who you have feelings for, but I meant, why not stop the tears now by just confessing to Utahime— and don’t even try to deny it, you’re not subtle.”
“I know I rock the gloomy look really well, Gojo, but I’m not actually masochistic,” she answers. “The tears are proof she doesn’t return my feelings. I’m not going to confess to her and make things awkward.”
Suguru nods along and cringes, shuddering dramatically. “Or worse, she feels obligated to try returning your feelings.”
“What are you going to do then? Cry until the tears burn your colour sight away? Cry until you go blind?”
Shoko shrugs. “I’ll get over it. Maybe distance is going to kill this.”
“Can you?” Suguru asks. His tone is doubtful but he’s leaning towards her, like he’s actually interested in her answer. “Get over it, I mean. Do you think you can do it?”
“I don’t fucking know,” she groans. “I’ll get over it or I won’t. A good quarter of adults see the world in black and white anyway, so if not, I’ll manage somehow.”
“Well, it certainly doesn’t help if you keep talking to her. Here, let me block her number,” Satoru reaches for her phone but Shoko stretches her arm to keep it out of reach.
“Get off!” she cries, using her foot to push him away, but he’s got Infinity turned on so now they’re in a stalemate with Satoru trying to reach for her phone and Shoko avoiding his grabby hands.
“Give it here, it’s for your own good! Stop struggling!”
“Geto, rein this dog in!”
“You’re lucky I’m not biting you!”
Suguru sighs at their antics and pulls Satoru back by his coat. “C’mon, Satoru, quit it already.”
Satoru obediently lets up but gives Suguru a look of betrayal. “It’s for her own good!”
“She can’t just go cold turkey. It’s just going to make the yearning worse.”
“Yeah, you’d know,” Shoko grumbles. She dusts herself off and sticks her tongue out at Satoru when she catches him glaring at her phone.
“Rude. And uncalled for, especially since I helped.” Suguru rolls his eyes but doesn’t elaborate. He shares a long-suffering look with Shoko that Satoru isn’t privy to, and it always pisses Satoru off when they do this. They know it annoys him too, not knowing what their telepathic conversation is about, and it’s probably why they do it so often around him.
“Fuck off, you two,” he says, slumping down on the ground and tucking his chin in the collar of his coat.
“Geto, the baby’s sulking.”
“He’s your child when the sun’s up.”
He really hates his friends, sometimes. A lot.
But then Suguru combs his hair with his fingers, scratching at the fine hair on his nape, and Shoko pulls out a bag of wari gori from a pocket somewhere, so maybe his friends aren’t so bad.
Whatever. If Shoko wants to go blind for that hag Utahime, it’s fine. He’s got enough sight for the three of them and then some.
「 2005年12月24日」
Now, despite what Suguru and Shoko say, Satoru isn’t actually stupid. His Six Eyes literally make him more perceptive than most, and it actually takes more effort to filter information out than take them in.
So he figures it out eventually. It happens around Christmas.
Satoru thinks he’s going to be seeing Shoko cry more in the days approaching Christmas, but against expectations, she's not any worse off than usual.
He knows fuck all about star tears, but he supposes it’s like any other affliction or disorder in that it can be manageable with therapy. Still, he didn’t imagine how unaffected she is.
“Hey, so like, don’t you feel lonelier surrounded by couples? I thought you’d be crying more,” he asks offhandedly, chewing on a chip while looking out the window at all the hand-holding going on outside.
They're in a KFC in Ginza, and the whole shopping centre is rife with romance. Starcloth sales are going through the roof, and there's a publich health announcement for anyone with the disease to stay home. Yet, Satoru hasn't seen a single crystallised star from Shoko in the few hours they've been out.
Suguru groans, wincing. “You literally cannot be released in public unsupervised."
Satoru turns back to the table and meets Shoko’s unamused look. She flicks juice at him with her straw which he doesn’t bother blocking with Infinity.
“Yeah, you could say I've built a bit of a tolerance," she drawls, glaring at he and Suguru both.
“I’m only asking because you didn’t need to come with us here," he replies, thinking she's blaming them for subjecting her to this trip. "We could have just gotten take away and eaten back at the dorms.”
“It’s fine. I think I’m just so over all the couple-y shit that it just disgusts me now.” She pokes at her drink with her straw before taking a big slurp, sharing another Look with Suguru who pointedly turns away from them.
Satoru hums and stares back out the window, oddly quiet. Something about the atmosphere in the mall is putting him in a mood, like he’s upset for Shoko.
All the couples are in their own little worlds - arms locked, heads bent together, fingers interlaced. He thinks if he were her, yearning for something, he’d want that for himself.
He knows he’s naturally selfish. As the Gojo heir, he wants for nothing, and even then, Suguru also spoils him rotten. He’s used to getting what he wants, so he doesn't have to think hard to know that being surrounded by people having what he can't have would be devastating.
What does he want anyway? Is it the handholding or the proximity, knowing someone’s always within reach?
He jolts when a hand pokes his side out of the blue. “Ah! What the fuck?!”
Suguru and Shoko look at him expectantly.
“You’ve been silent for so long, we were getting worried,” Suguru says, raising a brow.
“I was just thinking.”
“Shit, Geto, do you remember if the sun rose from the west today?”
Suguru presses a hand to his forehead, looking like a worried mother hen. “He doesn't have a fever, but Shoko, maybe you should have a look.”
Shoko reaches over and presses two fingers on his wrist. “Ah shit. It’s incurable. Unfortunately, the boy's just an idiot.”
“Ha ha, very funny” Satoru says, rolling his eyes and swatting them off. “I was just wondering if I could be as nonchalant as you right now. I think I’d be bawling my eyes out in my room on Christmas. I’d never be able to look at KFC without getting sick.”
“Wow, you’re considerate enough to hide your ugly mug in your room.”
“Excuse you, I’m a pretty crier.” He pulls down his sunnies and bats his eyelashes up at Suguru next to him. “The tears would look so good on me, I’d wear them like eyelash gems.”
Suguru shoves his face away. “Let’s just hope we never have to find out.”
“Aww, you do care,” he coos, throwing his arms around Suguru and smushing his face in his shoulder and intending to stay there until Suguru gets annoyed.
But to his surprise, Suguru just pinches his cheek, pulling and stretching it as far as it can go.
“I hope you never cry star tears, Satoru,” Suguru says with a strange earnestness that leaves him frozen for a second.
“For both your sakes, I hope Gojo never cries star tears,” Shoko mutters under her breath.
Satoru blinks at them both, a little confused. There’s a weight to this conversation, and he feels like he’s toeing the line of figuring it out when Suguru flicks his forehead.
The moment slips and he’s rubbing the sore spot, pouting. “Ow…”
“Knowing you, you’re just going to cry everywhere and scorch all our stuff.”
“You say that, but we all know I’m an absolute catch! I’m never going to cry star tears because who wouldn’t want me?”
Shoko shakes her head and obnoxiously slurps from her near empty drink again before getting up. “C’mon. We told sensei we’d bring some back for our senpai.”
“Alleged senpai,” he mutters, gathering up their things. “How many times have we actually seen them? I think they’re just Yaga’s corpse puppets, made to look humanoid from a distance to trick us into thinking there’s more people in the school than there actually is.”
“How do you explain all the samples I get then?” Shoko asks, mindlessly entertaining Satoru’s crazy whims. She spares it half a thought as they exit the KFC but Satoru can push through with anything.
“I think Yaga just asks the other active sorcerers to bring you cool shit,” he insists. “Think about it. Have you ever spoken to them?”
“You might be onto something, Satoru,” Suguru says and Shoko groans, walking ahead of them as if they were contagious.
“Think about all the damage on the training grounds,” he says, and Satoru lights up, picking up his thought and nodding to it. “All of that came from us - well, the Kyoto kids contributed - but otherwise, it’s spotless any other time.”
“Which suggests that no one else uses it!” Satoru concludes enthusiastically. Suguru always gets him, and there’s something creeping in the edges of his awareness, still out of reach but starting to take shape.
Satoru drapes his arm over Suguru’s shoulder, letting him carry the weight of the takeaway chicken hanging from his fingers. He shuffles closer so that Suguru blocks most of the cold wind blowing from his side.
He thinks Suguru’s going to push him off any time, but he’s still walking like nothing’s wrong, so Satoru lets his guard down. Big mistake. They round a turn to enter the main roads when Suguru suddenly manhandles Satoru to his other side, taking the brunt of the wind.
“Wh–?” He barely gets a word in when he’s hit by a blast of frosty wind, immediately turning Infinity on in just one side to block the cold. Suguru holds him in place with a firm grip on both his arms.
“Shoko, come over, I got an umbrella,” Suguru calls out, laughing.
Shoko gleefully hides behind the Satoru shield.
“So your freakish height’s good for something after all!”
Satoru pouts but he doesn’t break away because Suguru and Shoko are laughing. Suguru’s nose and ears have gone red and mist forms as he chuckles. Satoru thinks he can feel the warmth of his hands even through Suguru’s gloves and several layers of his own coat.
They’re wrong, he thinks, I’m going to cry for him.
Once the realisation hits, he knows it’s true. He feels it as surely as he breathes. The sun will set in the west, sakura blossoms will fall in spring, and Satoru will cry for Suguru.
「 2006年06月 」
The problem, he supposes, is that he’s not crying for him.
Once that dam broke, it’s all Satoru can think about.
He stares a little too long whenever a wisp of Suguru's hair falls out of place, hesitating for a second before he pushes it behind his ear when he would have otherwise just fixed it without a thought.
He understands how hungry he is for Suguru’s attention, saying his name aloud both to feel his name on his lips and to see Suguru turn. When their eyes meet, his stomach flutters, adding a sweetness to the feeling stewing in his gut.
He’s aware of the tingling on his skin whenever they touch; when they sling their arms around each other, lean on each other, brush hands as they walk — all the big and small touches they share as easily as breathing.
Every fist Suguru dodges, blocks and throws back at Satoru ensures this. Every time they easily defeat a curse side by side, every time Satoru lets himself test his own limits only to see Suguru right next to him every step of the way easily keeping up, seals Satoru in a fate he can see even without his Six Eyes.
He never thought this… this feeling, this thing they have… would be part of his future. After all, sorcerers always die alone. But there it is, budding inside him.
He feels it so keenly he thinks he’s going to choke with it sometimes. Like now, when the train rattles and Suguru presses a soft hand on Satoru’s head, securing it where it rests on the crook of Suguru’s shoulder so it doesn’t shake and jolt Satoru awake.
Nevermind that Satoru’s only feigning sleep and Suguru’s probably aware of that too.
Then, the line of tall cedar trees that border the train tracks abruptly ends, letting the morning light spill through the windows. Even with his eyes closed, the sudden brightness still makes him squirm, but before he can groan and fake waking up, Suguru moves his hand to rest over his eyes, easing the assault on his senses.
Every soft touch feeds this thing coalescing in his chest and it’s a wonder it hasn’t already condensed into stars. It feels like it should have already. What he feels now already feels like it will overflow in a deluge, crashing down like a torrential rain where Shoko cries light drizzles.
It’s been like this for so long, at this point he doesn’t remember what it feels like to look at Suguru and feel anything else. It’s frustrating. He knows it’s going to happen eventually, but it hasn’t yet, and the waiting is going to drive him insane. Satoru just wants to get it over with, cry and relish the catharsis of finally being free.
How much further must he fall before the stars do?
“Just wake him up, we’re arriving in a few minutes anyway,” he hears Nanami say from the seat across them. He speaks so softly that Satoru can barely pick it up with one ear pressed against Suguru’s collar.
Satoru almost rolls his eyes at his strictly rule-abiding kouhai. They took a very early morning train out to Tsuchiura (despite all of Satoru’s protests) and managed to get themselves an empty car, so there’s really no one to be bothered if Nanami raised his voice a little.
“Haha, Gojo-senpai really isn’t a morning person, is he?” Haibara laughs, speaking softly but loud enough to be heard.
“We should have just left him behind,” Nanami grumbles. “You would’ve been enough to guide us, Geto-senpai. It’s a grade three, two if we’re really generous.”
“Satoru would be more insufferable if we’d left him behind on a trip like this. He hasn’t been to Ibaraki,” Suguru says, and Satoru can tell without looking that he’s got that small smile on his face, just an upturn of his lip, barely showing teeth.
“Tsuchiura is like an hour away and there’s literally nothing there.”
“Not true! There’s the Ring Ring Road and Lake Kamisagaura,” Haibarai corrects, and see, this is why he’s Satoru’s favourite kouhai. He gets it.
It’s summer! They’re teenagers! They should be living their best lives while they’re, y’know, actually alive, given how tenuous that is for a sorcerer. And anyway, all the anime he’s ever consumed tells him class trip episodes are mandatory for any fulfilling high school life.
Satoru’s working with what he has here. The chances of them getting to do a whole Okinawa trip is slim, so he’s just going to settle for an Ibaraki trip instead. For now.
He’d be stupid not to take advantage of a sensei-less assignment. Plus, Tsuchiura’s not hopeless. It has its own charm to it.
Shoko looked doubtful when he explained it to her and she couldn’t be convinced to tag along, but they’ll show her. Satoru has a polaroid in his bag and they’re going to take lots of aesthetic pictures of youth, and Shoko’s going to regret not tagging along.
When the train slows down as it approaches their final stop, Suguru gives no warning before abruptly standing up. Inertia and momentum is Satoru’s rude wake up call as he topples over without Suguru's support.
“Fuck!” he yells as he slides to the other end of the seats when the train comes to a halt. “Suguru, what the fuck?!”
“Oh good, you’re up. Any longer and my shoulder would’ve crumpled under your fat head,” Suguru laughs.
“In hindsight, you shouldn’t have woken him up. We could have just left him on the train,” Nanami says.
“I hate all of you!” he cries.
“Good morning, Gojo-senpai!” Haibara greets.
“Not you, Haibara-chan.”
The curse itself is a stupidly easy one, born from the lingering trauma of train drivers when someone commits suicide on the tracks. It manifested just last week when a salaryman crashed his bike into an oncoming train on the Joban Line. They predicted it could go up to a grade two given a month or so to grow. But this early since its birth, it should just be a high grade three at best, and the first years would have been more than enough to handle it.
It hasn’t done anything truly malicious yet considering the nature of its resentment. In the past week, the most it has done was switching the tracks and sending trains on the wrong way, likely still experimenting with its own powers.
The problem is that it rarely makes itself seen. It travels across the line, going from station to station, although limiting itself around Ibaraki generally. But with the whole prefecture in its scope, it would be nearly impossible for Nanami and Haibara to hunt it down alone, which is why Yaga had Suguru tag along as his curses could be dispatched over a wide radius for recon.
Now, Satoru had full faith in Suguru’s abilities — they are, after all, the strongest. But they’re the strongest together, and not to brag or anything, but the mission would really go a lot quicker if he tagged along too. His Six Eyes could tell exactly where the curse is without it having to manifest fully, and his Six Eyes tells him the curse energy is currently centered in this train yard.
“Gojo-senpai… are you sure it’s here?” Haibara asks tentatively.
They’ve been sitting in this empty cargo car waiting for the curse to appear for nearly the whole day now. The sun was beginning to set already, painting the sky a deep orange and casting long shadows on the trees lining the other side of the yard. In a few minutes, it would be dark.
“Shh!” He gives Haibara a sharp look to be quiet. This is a careful operation, and any noise could disturb the target.
He slowly nudges the slime curse closer, incrementally absorbing the sleeping Nanami’s right pinky finger into its body. Any sudden movements and Nanami could wake up. He needs complete silence.
“Uhhh….” Haibara must have finally taken his eyes off of the binoculars he’s been glued to for the past hour. His precious kouhai is so diligent, surveying the area with his eyes when Satoru would know the second the curse manifests.
“...Geto-senpai, shouldn’t we be stopping him?” he whispers, and Satoru would scoff if he wasn’t so close to getting Nanami’s whole hand in already.
Suguru says nothing, looking on at the scene amused the entire time. Where does Haibara think he got the slime from?
When he finally gets the whole hand inside, he quickly shuffles back and leans against Suguru, admiring his work.
“It’s his fault for falling asleep in the middle of a mission,” he whispers.
Nanami is leaning against the wall of the cargo car, head bent in sleep. He started off with crossed arms, but one eventually fell and then fell victim to Satoru’s scheme. The slime curse encloses his right hand, and the side of Nanami’s pants are slowly getting soaked.
“Well, it’s around the time we’d get dismissed from classes and Nanami likes his schedule…” Haibara says, casting worried glances over his friend.
“And I don’t think that prank actually works… does it?” He directs the question to Suguru who shrugs.
“If it does, we’ll try it on Shoko next. If it doesn’t, we don’t risk her anger for nothing.”
He gives Suguru a fist bump. Suguru just gets it. He didn’t even have to say anything and he picked up the long term plan already. He didn’t even question him when he asked if he had a water-based curse in his arsenal.
“You sure took your time, though. Any longer and I would’ve thought you were wowed by his sleeping visage,” Suguru teases.
“Aww boo, don’t be jealous,” he responds. “You’re always going to be my one and only.”
Suguru laughs. “He’s going to kill you when he wakes up.”
“It’s okay. We’re the strongest.”
“I’m going to sit back and laugh at you.”
“Lies. You love me too much.”
Suguru hums and rolls his eyes, but he lets Satoru continue to lie against him, tucking him comfortably under his arm.
It’s a clear night but the small car door only lets a little bit of moonlight in, barely illuminating the inside compartment. In the darkness, he hides a small grin, because it’s so easy for him to pretend it’s true.
“Gojo!”
The angry yell startles him awake. He didn’t realise he’d dozed off.
“I can’t believe what a child you are!” Nanami yells angrily.
Satoru rubs the sleep off his eyes and pulls himself away from Suguru’s hold, lazily stretching as Nanami continues his rant about wet pants in the background. When he feels sufficiently awake, he says, “Hey, why are you only yelling at me? Suguru was in on it too. It’s his curse.”
Nanami whips his head around to the two of them. “Because he’s hopeless with you!”
Suguru manifests a smaller curse, a small rock of molten magma they captured near Fujiyama.
“I can dry it off?” he asks with not a small amount of threat in his voice. He wears his usual friendly smile, looking generally genial, but there’s an edge to it that makes it feel sharper and more menacing.
Nanami’s eye twitches. “Hopeless.”
“Haha, don’t get so worked up! Unless… did you really piss your pants?!” Satoru exclaims, bringing one hand up to his mouth in overdramatic alarm, and using the other to point at the wet patch in Nanami’s pants.
“Of course not! It’s from the stupid slime, you idiot!”
The slime in question jiggles on the ground innocently, slowly sliding back to Suguru and leaving a snail trail in its wake.
“Sure it is, Nanamin,” he giggles, just to piss him off some more.
“Uhh… Senpai…” Haibara starts, hands up in a placating way. “Sorry to interrupt, and I don’t mean to doubt you in any way, but it’s been four hours, and I don’t see any sign of the curse…”
“Ah!” Satoru puts a fist to his palm. “Hehe, I think by my estimates it’s around Kandatsuchuo now.”
“Y-You—!!” Haibara has to hold Nanami back.
“Hey! Curses move, you know! Maybe you stank up the place and it decided to skedaddle!”
“That’s on the other end of the city!!”
“Well, you better get going then, huh, Nanamin? Chop, chop!” he says cheerily, clapping his hands.
Suguru moves to stand up, but Satoru pushes him back without looking.
“Do you want me to teleport you there?” he asks his two kouhai.
“No!” Nanami spits. “You’re probably going to strand us off to another prefecture just to mess with me!”
Suguru raises his hand towards the opened car door and a black orb swirls itself into existence before taking the shape of a familiar manta ray.
“Suisui-chan!” Satoru greets.
“Kitaro,” Suguru corrects, pinching Satoru in the side without breaking eye contact with Nanami, “will fly over Kandatsuchuo and you should be able to detect it from there if or whenever it manifests.”
“Suisui-chan,” Satoru insists.
“Kitaro,” Suguru says, turning to him.
In the background, “Are you not coming with us, senpai?”
“Leave them, Haibara. It’ll be forever before they notice other people.”
“Suisui-chan.”
“Kitaro.”
“Suisui-chan.”
“Kitaro.”
“Ugh! It’s such an ugly name! Might as well name it Momotaro, you nerd.”
“And Suisui-chan is better? That’s not even a name!”
“It can be! It’s better, right Nana— Eh?” He turns only to find Nanami and Haibara long gone.
“It’s my technique and my curse. I think I should be able to name it.”
Satoru crosses his arms. “It swims in the air. Suisui-chan makes sense, and it’s cuter too.”
Suguru rolls his eyes and finally lets the issue drop, knowing a lost cause when he sees one.
Satoru can be very stubborn when he wants to be (ergo, always). He humphs smugly before slumping back against Suguru’s side.
A comfortable stillness drapes over them, but he resists the call to doze off again. After all, it should be about time soon.
“C’mon,” he says, pulling Suguru up. “Get up, we’re going to the roof.”
Suguru looks at him curiously but obediently follows him. Outside, he puts his hands together, telling Satoru to use him to get up.
“I can just use Infinity,” he says, rolling his eyes, but steps on anyway. It's nice to make Suguru use his beefy arms to do something other than clobber him in hand to hand combat.
“It stresses you out when you do, so just use it when necessary," he says, easily giving Satoru the boost he needs to climb onto the roof.
Once Satoru’s settled, he leans over the edge to pull Suguru up too. They sit on top of the car, swinging their legs over and facing the tree line. This late in the evening, the faraway city lights look like stars.
“Was the curse actually ever actually here?” Suguru asks, breaking the silence.
“Not really,” he admits shamelessly.
“Thought so,” Suguru hums. “So why did you want to go here?”
“Why not? Isn’t it aesthetic?” Satoru pulls out his Fujifilm from his bag and looks at Suguru from the viewfinder. He takes a shot and Suguru flinches from the flash of the light.
“There’s no way you possibly got any background in that photo. It’s too dark.”
He ignores the comment and waves the photo that prints out, waiting for the image to appear. It doesn’t do anything, but he wants to occupy his hands while he waits.
Slowly, with only the moonlight to illuminate it, the photo develops and Suguru’s silhouette appears, faded at first before clearing up into an ugly, too close-up of his flinching face.
“Give me that,” Suguru grumbles and takes the camera from him. They’re already pressed up against each other, but he shuffles closer anyway, throwing the arm holding the camera over Satoru’s shoulder.
They position themselves roughly using the little mirror by the lens, and Suguru starts counting. “One… Two…”
At three, he steals Satoru’s sunnies, shuts his eyes and takes the photo.
“Fuck, that's bright," Satoru says, wincing and rubbing the flash away. “Mean!!”
Suguru pulls his hands away from his face and puts his sunnies back on for him.
While he’s still blinking the light away, Suguru takes the photo from the camera and lets out a disappointed sigh when the photo develops. “How do you still manage to look pretty?”
“I’m always pretty. Born beautiful. Wake up like this, always,” he preens, masquerading the loops his stomach’s doing with bravado, thankful the darkness hides the heat in his face.
“Whatever.” He doesn’t have to look to know Suguru is rolling his eyes.
It’s not his best photo; the lighting really is god awful and the flash makes his eyelid disappear and makes the bags under his eyes more pronounced — looking tired and old instead of cute and youthful. But he’s smooshed up against Suguru who’s grinning mischievously, dimples coming through, and that alone makes it perfect.
He immediately steals it from Suguru’s fingers, tucking it into his gakuran. “Dibs!”
“You already have tw…” Suguru’s complaints trail off when a whistle cuts through the air.
Fireworks shoot up to the night sky, one after the other, bursting into a myriad of colours and patterns. Large ones break away into smaller explosions, sparks trailing down like a meteor shower.
Suguru looks at the sky and back at him, and then throws his head back and laughs. Satoru grins like the cat that got the cream.
“Nanamin forgot about Tsuchiura’s annual fireworks competition!”
“Shoko’s going to be pissed she missed this,” Suguru says, and they turn back to the sky to appreciate the show as blues, purples and greens shoot past the trees and explode in tandem.
Underneath this festival of lights, Satoru thinks about how they always say sorcerers die alone. He doesn’t dispute that fact, but he thinks, if at least they can be together in some moments of their finite lives, it wouldn’t be so bad.
It might be insane, wanting to cry star tears like he does, but they'd be proof. Proof that he lives by his own choices. If they’re going to die pointless deaths, he’s not going to shy away from any of life’s experiences. He’ll relish in feeling. Let it consume him inside out.
Even if Suguru doesn’t feel the same, it won’t matter. He’s going to hold on tightly and never let go. It’s going to take some time, but he’s sure he can woo Suguru off his feet eventually.
Utahime’s all the way in Kyoto. The likelihood of she and Shoko ever having a night like this is slim to none. Satoru on the other hand has infinity before him. It would be a shame to let that slip.
“Satoru, turn this way.”
He looks and sees Suguru leaning back with his eye at the viewfinder. His bun’s astray, and yeah. Satoru smiles for the camera and thinks he really wouldn’t mind crying for him. He can’t imagine anyone else by his side like this.
Suguru takes the shot and slowly takes his eye off the viewfinder.
“Oh,” he says, voice almost drowned out by the cacophony above. He blinks at Satoru with a blank face.
“What?” Satoru asks nervously.
Suguru looks down at the camera as the photo prints. He stares blankly at it for a beat before chuckling and shaking his head.
“What?” Satoru asks more insistently this time. “Do I look funny?”
He leans in to see the photo but it’s still too faded to really see any detail. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Suguru says, still chuckling to himself as he tucks the still underdeveloped photo into one of the deep pockets of his baggy pants.
“Suguru,” he whines and pesters him, poking and prodding and being his signature annoying self (taken up a notch, of course, because Suguru is already immune).
"I just figured something out, is all," Suguru admits softly.
"What? What??" he asks, more insistently. Suguru is fully aware of how much it annoys Satoru to be out of the loop.
Suguru hums, looking up to appreicate the sky. "I'll wait for you to figure it out."
This asshole! Satoru scrunches his nose and doesn't let up, annoying Suguru until he finally turns back to him.
Suguru reaches out and cups his face, thumb softly brushing his cheek. Satoru swallows the complaint he was about to say, breath catching at the tenderness in Suguru's face. He wants to take a photo of this moment, but he can't pick up the camera. He's afraid if he moves, the moment will disappear.
Instead, he tries to commit it to memory: the warm touch of his fingers, the way the lights catch on his face, the stubborn strands of dark hair sticking out from the wind. Should star tears take colour sight away from him at this moment, it would have been worth it for this to be his last memory in colour.
"I'll tell you eventually, okay? I just gotta muster up the guts to do it first."
It's a stupid excuse though. They're the strongest, so what does Suguru have to fear? He almost calls him out on it, but something about the way Suguru's voice cracks at the end has him nodding in acknowledgement instead.
Then, there's a sharp pain in his cheek as Suguru pinches his cheek, tenderness morphing into something more light and teasing. "Or maybe you can figure it out yourself, dumbass."
"You're the dumbass, dumbass," Satoru grumbles, massaging his sore face.
Suguru rolls his eyes at the childish comeback. “Nanami’s going to kill you when he realises we ditched them to watch fireworks.”
“Pfft, he can try. He’s really way too stiff, I don’t see what Haibara sees in him.”
“Oh? You noticed?”
“I’m not blind.” How could he not? Only someone so hopeless wouldn’t go insane with just Nanami for company, and Haibara seems to flourish with it. He’s always so happy and glowy whenever Nanami’s around.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Wanna bet how long it takes for him to cry star tears?”
“How sure are you he’ll have them? You don’t think Nanami won’t return his feelings?”
He scoffs. “Nanami? He’s too straight.”
He looks and finds Suguru looking at him doubtfully.
“What? You don’t think so?”
“No, I agree with you. But I’m wondering why you say it like you know it’s a fact.”
“My gaydar’s never wrong.”
At that, Suguru bursts out laughing, bending over and clutching his stomach with the force of his cackling. “You? Functioning gaydar? Say sike right now,” he manages to say between heaving.
Satoru would be offended if Suguru’s laugh wasn’t so contagious. He just rolls his eyes and lets Suguru’s laughter taper off.
“Anyway,” he starts once he’s caught his breath. “The reason I agree with you is because Haibara already does have the star tears. Caught him in the second floor bathroom. It must’ve been the first time too because he was panicking. I lent him my handkerchief and told him to talk to Shoko about it.”
“Huh. Damn, that was quick. Aren’t they just first years? They literally just met a few months ago.”
Suguru gives him an amused, almost judgemental look. “...Shoko was in her first year too.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Man, everyone here has shit taste. First, Utahime, now Nanami?”
It’s starting to grate on his nerves a little. How can Haibara cry for Nanami of all people, after spending a handful of months with the guy? That’s barely enough time to really know anyone!
Last year, Satoru and Suguru were both ragged edges that clashed with each other so often those first few months. It took time to get to where they are now, a lot of buffing away before they started fitting together like puzzle pieces. How has Haibara managed to muster up more feelings in a shorter amount of time when Satoru already feels bursting to the brim?
“And yours is any better?” Suguru teases, plucking him out of his mood.
He flushes. “I have impeccable taste.”
“How so?”
Long hair. Broad shoulders. Sharp grin. Monolid eyes. Shit sense of humor. Strong. His best friend. His one and only.
“None of your business.”
“Pretty and maybe a little bit stupid,” Suguru says out of the blue. "Actually, a lot stupid. Slow on the uptake too."
“What?”
“My type, that is,” Suguru explains, smiling like he’s just made a joke Satoru isn’t in on, and that’s stupid, because Satoru’s in on all his jokes.
“I wasn’t asking.”
What kind of criteria is that anyway? What’s pretty for Suguru? He almost shudders remembering some of the pet curses Suguru calls cute.
Before he can tease Suguru about his shit taste, a big shadow casts over them. The manta ray comes into view, descending on the flat ground of the train yard. Nanami and Haibara drop down, looking none the worse for wear.
“That was quick! Good job,” he says in greeting as the two boys jump off. The manta ray coalesces back into a void before returning back to Suguru like smoke.
“You didn’t forget the window, did you?” Suguru asks.
“Not to worry, senpai! I set it up before Nanami-kun chopped up the curse. There were barely any civilians around anyway. I think everyone went to watch the show.”
“Please don’t tell me you want to stick around to watch it,” Nanami groans from the ground. “It’s a competition. It’s going to go on for hours.”
Before he can reply that yes of course they’re staying, Suguru is already jumping off.
“Aww, can’t we stay longer?”
“We still have class tomorrow and you’re a pain to deal with when you don’t get a full night’s rest.”
Sighing in defeat, he jumps down and they make their way back to the main station. Satoru bullies Haibara into giving a summary of what went down so he and Suguru can corroborate and report back to Yaga as if they supervised the entire time like they were supposed to.
Nanami mutters something about leaving them to get what they deserve, but Haibara really is too kind for his own good.
Satoru notices Suguru’s fallen quiet on the walk and turns to see that he’s fallen back from the group, dropping a handkerchief in a garbage bin. When he looks back and catches Satoru with his head tilted in a silent question, he shakes his head and runs to catch up to them.
“What was that about? When did it even get dirty?”
Suguru shrugs, smiling cryptically. “Don’t think I’ll need it anymore, that’s all. Turns out I never did."
When they return, it’s past midnight and Suguru has to carry Satoru back to bed. Suguru grumbles the whole time about how heavy he is, but his back feels so nice that Satoru’s not at all guilty about making Suguru lug him up the mountain. (It's only a short walk. It's not like 3799 steps or anything.)
He could have used any one of his many flying curses at any time during the way up, but he doesn't.
Instead, he treks up the steps, panting all the way, and when they finally get to the dorms, he claims he can’t be bothered to take him another few steps to his room and dumps Satoru on his bed instead.
Suguru uses the school’s department store-bought sheets, so it’s rougher than Satoru’s silk ones, but the smell of the cheap detergent he uses brings comfort to Satoru and lulls him to sleep.
Through half-lidded, bleary eyes, the last thing he sees is Suguru emptying his drawer and dumping handkerchiefs into his bin, and then Satoru is lost to his dreams.
(In the morning, Satoru is exactly as grumpy as Suguru predicted, but Suguru thinks it's because he overslept and got scolded for being late. Suguru is completely unapologetic about not waking him up, but Satoru’s more upset about the fact that he was too sleepy to steal morning cuddles.)
Days, weeks, months pass and Satoru still doesn’t cry.
「 2006年08月 」
Sometimes he wonders if he’s broken. If those old bats at the clan got what they wanted and completely took away his ability to feel.
Is this the limit? Are his feelings actually just that shallow despite how choked up he feels whenever he falls asleep against Suguru? Are Shoko and Haibara drowning in depths that Satoru just can’t reach?
Then, of course, things start to spiral.
Slowly, at first. Mei Mei and Utahime go missing and the three of them are dispatched to save them.
They sit by a steep, grassy slope of the river bank, with the main road at their backs. A car’s meant to come pick them up here later, but for Shoko’s sake, Satoru didn’t complain about being early.
She’s on her third cigarette now, so he figures it’s safe to ask.
“I’m surprised you aren’t burning the grass already.”
“Yeah, it’s weird,” is all she says in reply. He doesn’t have to specify for her to know he’s not talking about the cigarette bums.
Silence befalls them again for a few more beats, enough for Satoru to count the fifteen fallen red leaves flowing along the river. There’s a park somewhere on the other side and the autumn wind is already starting to blow hard enough to carry leaves here.
Eventually, Shoko admits, “It’s been a while since I’ve cried actually.”
“Good thing too, I don’t have any more handkerchiefs for you,” Suguru says, plucking at the weeds by his foot.
“Does that mean you’re over her or…?” Satoru prompts.
“I don’t know. We’ve been texting a lot more recently. Maybe I just don’t have time to pine." Shoko shrugs and smoke disperses when she heaves a heavy sigh.
“Damn. We really have to save Utahime’s ass, don’t we? Otherwise, you’ll be back to a sobbing mess.”
Suguru elbows him. “It’s not like you aren’t already jumping at the chance to be smug about saving them.”
Satoru cackles. “Shit, I can just imagine Mei Mei’s face. I should’ve brought the camera. It’s going to be glorious.”
Sure enough, the smugness lasts for days after their rescue. Satoru gets a harsh scolding about forgetting the screen, but even that’s not enough to bring him down. Of course, that’s nothing compared to how Shoko’s feeling.
He catches her smiling at her phone more often, and he supposes nothing can bring two girls closer together than a near death experience (notwithstanding the fact that they have that quite often as sorcerers anyway). Surely, that’s enough to bridge physical distance.
She’s more preoccupied than ever, leaving Suguru and Satoru alone to their devices. Suguru thinks she’s no longer crying because Utahime’s finally returning her feelings, and Satoru’s happy for her, he really is.
It's almost touching, if Satoru was the type to appreciate things like this. He could physically see the progression of Utahime's feelings as Shoko's tears clear up.
The sound of chimes that follow her tears slowly fades out, crystals growing smaller and getting fewer with every text they exchange, until Shoko's crying normal tears, and then not crying at all.
Meanwhile, Suguru and Satoru still fight and bicker and argue about the difference in their philosophies, but Suguru also keeps buying him treats and is always next to him — the strongest, together. He’s glad he can blame the autumn chill for the way his face is perpetually flushed now. But the fact that Shoko has already overcome her tears and Satoru still hasn’t shed a single really starts to gnaw at him.
It falls to the back of his mind when he and Satoru receive a mission from Master Tengen himself. They meet Amanai Riko. He guiltily enjoys Okinawa with Suguru even knowing it’s at her expense. He feels like a thief, hoarding whatever experiences he can with Suguru - the beach, the aquarium, everything.
Then they meet Zenin Toji, and the two strongest sorcerers are completely destroyed by a man with zero cursed energy.
Satoru thinks about how the old farts in the clan numbed him to feeling, made him incapable of the star tears, and for what? Their beloved Limitless and Six Eyes were felled by someone who can’t even use jujutsu.
He would laugh if he didn’t have a fucking spear in his throat.
「 2007年07月 」
He figures it out eventually, for real this time.
It starts with Haibara. Or maybe it started in their second year, but he thinks the tipping point started with Haibara.
The elders have him going on non-stop solo missions, and he refuses to be exhausted. Suguru is obsessed with finding meaning, so Satoru thinks there must be some meaning to why he’s been emptied of emotion. If he was broken in order to be the strongest, then he’s going to be the strongest. Zenin Toji is going to be a faraway memory, barely a blip in his life.
It becomes routine. He’s assigned a mission, he completes it, and he’s assigned another one. Everything is rote, and he can keep Infinity on without even thinking now. He perfects Red and Blue, and he supposes, even without star tears, he can destroy everything around him easily without even blinking.
The star tears are a physical manifestation of too much emotion, when yearning burns so bright it condenses into stars, hurting everything but their host. Perhaps he’s the complete opposite, wreaking destruction with his void.
Culling curses becomes so easy, he starts going through missions without a conscious thought. So when he comes back to reality, it’s with a muted crash, like an asteroid crashing into the earth and leaving a massive crater but making no sound.
He’s told Haibara is dead, and he doesn’t even have time to see the body before he’s dispatched to end the curse that killed him.
It’s good that he’s dead is his first coherent thought. It’s awful to think that about a friend, but where Haibara is like Shoko, Nanami is nothing like Utahime.
Satoru doesn’t think he even knows Haibara has the star tears, much less that they're for him. Haibara was going to hold onto his feelings, even nurture them, until they strip colour away and even then, he would have continued until they burn his sight away completely. At least like this, he’s spared a lifetime of yearning.
The curse that did it is an ugly thing, barely even worth moving a finger for, but Satoru uses Purple again for the first time since Toji and decimates it and everything around it.
Everything spirals after that.
Suguru is sent off on a mission and never comes back.
They tell him that Suguru is classified as a curse user now, and that’s ridiculous. They’re SatoruandSuguru. The strongest, together. This isn't some shitty Naruto plotline, because even with how often they butt heads, they've always understood each other. And this? This is beyond Satoru's understanding.
It’s a mistake. It has to be.
Then, Shinjuku happens and Suguru, this bastard, this fucking asshole, doesn’t even ask Satoru to leave with him. He just monologues like one of those crappy third-rate villains from the B-movies they like to binge.
Satoru can barely get a word out because there’s a massive lump stuck in his throat. It’s probably his heart lodged there. Or maybe it’s just bile. He feels so sick.
He wants to argue but discovers that he can’t. Suguru looks tired, and broken, and he can’t believe he didn’t see this coming. Six Eyes and for what, he's apparently blind to the important things.
Suguru looks Satoru in the eye and tells him he’s leaving him. He feels unmoored, like his anchor's broken away and he's being left to face a raging sea alone as land gets further and further out of reach. If Satoru truly wasn't broken, this would be the moment he gets star tears, but when the tears spill, they're quiet.
Suguru raises his hand and wipes the tears away with his bare thumb, as if Satoru wanted the reminder that his feelings aren’t enough to manifest star tears, that he wasn’t enough to make Suguru stay.
With his other hand, Suguru reaches out to Satoru’s wrist before slowly slipping down to his white knuckled fist, fiddling with his fingers until they unclench.
There, Suguru places another one of his stupid starcloth handkerchiefs that Satoru thought he got rid of already. "It's incredibly selfish, perhaps more than what I'm already doing, but I still hope you never have to use this, Satoru."
He grips it hard, nails digging into the fabric so roughly that if it were any other kind of cloth, he thinks it would have ripped already.
"Last year I said I'd tell you something important, once I got the guts to do it and found the right moment, but this shitty world we live in is never going to be the right place for us. Changing the world is going to be worth it, Satoru, worth even getting the star tears for. If by some miracle I still don't get them by the time I make my vision a reality, I'll tell you then. I promise."
Satoru doens't have a clue what he's saying. He's blinded by hurt, anger, and betrayal. All he knows is that Suguru is walking away from them and he didn't even ask Satoru to come with him. The hurt is numbing but all consuming. Not as sharp as the spear that went through his throat but far more painful. The spear went through a part of him. This feels like Suguru's ripping everything away, taking the important pieces with him.
When Suguru turns his back, Satoru raises his other hand and aims at his retreating figure. Curse Energy gathers around the tip of his finger.
But, even if he’s just crying regular tears... even if his feelings aren’t enough to turn into stars, he still can’t activate his technique. He still can’t make the sight of his best friend walking away from him hurt any less.
If they had to break him, he wishes they broke him properly. Not this half-assed shit that makes him feel but not feel enough.
Later, when he’s sitting in their silent classroom with Shoko, looking out the window in order to ignore the empty seat between them, he comes to terms with it. Or ties to, at least.
Of course his feelings wouldn’t have condensed into stars. It really must have been shallow. Otherwise, how could he not have noticed Suguru was slipping?
Suguru was hurting, and he was traipsing across the country without a clue. It would have been worse, he thinks, if he actually did manifest star tears. How can he claim to care for him when he never even noticed he was in pain?
He’ll understand, a decade later, how stupid he was.
「 2016年12月24日 」
Satoru doesn’t even need his Six Eyes to find him. The trail of blood leads him there. He teleports to the other end of the alleyway in time to see Suguru slide down, leaning all his weight against the wall.
He thought he was prepared for this, the inevitable confrontation to put an end to Suguru's madness, but it’s nothing like he expected. All these years, he was preparing for some explosive battle of ideals, escalating their petty arguments as teenagers into something brutal and settling once and for all who is strongest.
Yet, here and now, there's none of that. No righteous anger, no sharp pains in his chest, no pebbles in his throat, no tightness around his lungs. Just resignation richocheting in a void.
It's so ridiculous that he can't help but laugh, and Suguru looks up at him, eyes crinkiling with affection, wheezing out a self-deprecating laugh of his own.
He really is so, so stupid. How did he miss this?
Suguru's eyes always fold into tiny crescents when he laughs, but those dark pools reflect a galaxy of emotion that orbits around them both.
It took twelve years to figure out, but he finally got here.
Suguru smiles up at him and lets out a wet cough. “I’m sorry, Satoru.”
“Probably not for the right things.”
Suguru smiles sadly. “No.”
“What are you sorry for then?”
“I wanted you to go your whole life without ever experiencing star tears.”
“As if you know what they’re like.”
Suguru reaches for his hand, grasping it weakly. “I thought I would. I was prepared for your feelings to burn out. Bought another pack of starcloth handkerchiefs and everything. I didn’t know how to feel when I never ended up having to use them.”
“You and me both.”
Suguru laughs as he bleeds out.
“You’re an idiot.”
Satoru laughs as the tears flow.
“What does that make you?”
“A hopeless one.”
Satoru was so preoccupied looking for stars in his tears that he completely missed the ones in Suguru's eyes.
As Suguru’s hand drops, he hears a haunting tinkle, like chimes in soft wind.
The first time Satoru cries star tears is on the 24th of December 2016.