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The chilly air of fall seeps through the opening of the door when Satoru lets himself inside the school building, a bright and cheery grin on his face as he greets his students in the lounge. They all look like they’ve just woken up, which might delay their plans just a little bit on this rare day of relaxation, but Satoru doesn’t particularly mind.
He’ll whip them up into shape for travel in no time with the sweets he brought. “Good morning, my precious students! I come bearing gifts.”
Megumi sends him an unamused look from where he sits on the couch, dark green eyes following him as he paces towards the countertop. “Gojo, it’s barely eight. We need breakfast before you start pumping us full of sugar at this hour.”
Satoru places the box down, happily whipping around to face Itadori who is sluggishly cooking just that. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, a very particular cursed energy signature appears within very close range, causing his eyes to snap towards the window near the entrance.
Outside, a flash of white hair passes by the window. Satoru can feel his mood beginning to flicker already, though it isn’t anger that he now feels. If a member of the Gojo Clan has decided to visit campus at an unusual time like this, it can only mean one thing and whatever it is can’t be good.
But it isn’t just any clan member.
The door swings open, startling the students, and inside walks a beautiful woman with hair way too similar to Satoru’s, her equally as beautiful kimono shifting in the breeze as her eyes lock onto him. The corner of her lips turn upwards into a half-smile, piercing blue eyes slowly navigating around to survey the rest of the sorcerer-filled room with a look Gojo can’t quite decipher.
“Mother?” Satoru blurts.
All three of the student’s heads snap towards him, eyes wide with shock and curiosity. “Mother!?”
Her eyes fall back to him as she fully enters the room, crossing over to him wistfully without a care in the world for anything else. Her strides are as elegant as her appearance, each student admiring her with their own version of awe and confusion. Even Megumi looks perplexed.
The words spill out before he can stop them. “What are you doing here?”
“What, a mother can’t just drop in and say hello to her son? Seems being away from the clan for so long has left you with a lack of manners,” she tuts, swatting his arm when she reaches his position. Her words may seem criticizing, but only Satoru knows there is no real bite to be found in them. “I’m here on business. I’d like to speak to you alone.”
Satoru glances at his students from beneath his blindfold, though he doesn’t move his head as an indication of it. He nods, deciding it best to get away from any and all prying eyes and ears, refusing to allow children to take part in clan business. It’s too much of a headache without them as it is. No need to drag others into something that is none of their concern.
If his mother is here, alone and without any of the other clan members, this must be something big and personal. “We can talk outside.”
She nods once, Satoru’s eyes momentarily falling on the beautiful braid twined around the crown of her head, secured with a pristine clip he is certain is the same one she used to wear when he was a child. Her gaze shifts to his students, a polite smile etching itself onto her lips though her eyes remain piercing as always.
She’s always had a way with making people feel uncomfortable when she looks at them, her intense stare alone enough to make you want to stand up straighter and be on your best behavior. Satoru is supposed to be used to it by now, having been caught under the weight of it many times in the past, but it has been quite a while since he last saw her. Longer than that.
He isn’t sure he’s so used to it anymore.
She moves before he does, taking a step before she’s halting her stride and turning her head to face him again with a slightly scrutinizing look. “And do take that rag off your face, Satoru. I’d like to be able to look at my child when he’s being addressed.”
The slight raise in her brows causes Satoru to glance at his students again, the looks on their amused faces enough of an indication that they are never going to let him live this one down. Of course it’s funny for them. They’re not the ones that had to be raised by this woman.
His hand carefully finds the edge of his blindfold, a bit hesitant, pulling it off in obedience and allowing it to droop between his fingertips. His hair settles normally on his head, his fist dropping to hang at his side again, and his mother lets her smile widen a bit.
“Better?”
The woman in front of him hums. “Much.”
Satoru bows his head respectfully, a bit sheepish from her motherly correction, wasting no time before taking the lead on showing her the way to a location better suited for conversation. He passes by his intently watching students and holds open the exit door for her, catching their curious eyes as she leaves and offering a slightly uncomfortable smile that he hopes looks as normal as the other ones he gives. “Be right back.”
The walk across campus is quiet, save for the prickly rustling of grass beneath their feet as they walk side by side, his mother’s arm hooked around his as he leads her around. It has been several years since he last saw her, probably since he graduated Jujutsu Tech, his relationship with his clan becoming strained the moment he even joined the school.
The clan heads at the time swore up and down that they could train him better than the school could, but luckily enough, Yaga was persuasive and they eventually gave in. To have that freedom from those people was a wonderful feeling, even if they kept trying to meddle in his life. But that freedom did not last very long.
Just a few years after he graduated, the clan head passed away (good riddance) and the elders immediately summoned Satoru to take the position though he didn’t want it. However, the benefits that came with the position were nothing short of great, though there were many cons to go along with them.
All the clan wanted was more power status. To say that the wielder of the Limitless and the Six Eyes was their clan head would have been an Earth-shattering statement.
His father had always been a little more scrutinizing than his mother, always picking apart everything that Satoru did lest that man face the consequences of raising a misbehaving child. He’d wanted Satoru to officially become the clan head way before the real one died, but Satoru was too young to be of age and with the relations with the other clans in the state that they were, it was never made so.
But when Satoru did come of age and the clan head died, his father was even more adamant. The clan meeting that day was hell.
His mother wasn’t in attendance, having no real position in the clan to claim as her own. She didn’t quite fit in with that crowd of slobs anyways. Satoru didn’t speak to her that day or even officially agree to anything despite their pushiness. He just said he’d think about it.
But the next morning, he got a rare phone call from the woman and talked to her for the first time since he graduated, and it wasn’t long before he reluctantly decided to give in on the matter. It wasn’t because of her persuasion, though, because she simply told him to do whatever he wanted to.
Satoru took the position so he could make life for her a little easier inside the clan, even if he refused to associate with them in person unless he absolutely had to. Although, he would never admit that fact if anyone asked him.
When they reach the top of the hill on a more remote section of campus, his mother still doesn’t say anything other than a quiet thank you for walking her here. She detaches herself from him and approaches the old, blossoming tree with silent interest, her palm finding the rough edges of the trunk as she studies it in admiration.
He watches her for a while, equally as silent but guilty all the same. It’s an unusual feeling, to feel bad about something that has no importance in his life. But his mother is not like all of the other fools that hold the Gojo name. She never has been. There is zero reason why he should resent her.
Unlike them, she did not deserve this distance. She didn’t do anything wrong.
Normally, Satoru couldn’t find it within himself to care even if it was his own mother, because any association at all with the clan was a headache. Speaking to her was difficult in the presence of his father, who would never allow them to be alone with one another much in fear that certain affairs would slip from his grasp and ruin his position in the clan.
Familial affairs were often not familial affairs at all. They were clan affairs, no matter how personal.
It is likely what made his mother so bitter and different towards them. She hated them as much as he did, and Satoru is certain she never loved his father though she pretended to. Rank and status were all that mattered in the clan. Still do.
It is why Satoru abused his power to make her life better and his father’s life a little more difficult out of spite. The man still hasn’t found out that he was the one who did it.
In hindsight, he should have at least called her more. Even if he didn’t want to associate with the clan, there was one way he could talk to her without invoking a privacy invasion. It shouldn’t make him feel this way but it does. He would never admit that the opinion of his mother is the only one he cares about in this world.
“The clan isn’t very happy with you, Satoru,” she informs him, her voice passing through the silent breeze like a song he was once painstakingly familiar with. Her words are common news, which comes with no surprise to him. Clan members haven’t been happy with him in a long time, ever since he first became a sorcerer and left them in the dust without regret, severing most of their ties to his life. The only thing that remained was his name alone. “I’m sure the elders aren’t either, seeing as though it was you who chose to keep Sukuna’s vessel alive.”
Right.
They must have heard about Yuji’s “death” and resurrection thanks to the King of Curses himself. They’ve had their noses in Jujutsu High’s business for years. Their coziness with the higher ups and their secrets is no secret anymore.
Satoru sighs, fighting the urge to fiddle with his hands and instead clasping them behind his back when she turns to him. He has no fear of the clan or what they will do, not only because he is quite literally the head but also because they’re powerless to do anything against him anyways. But his mother is someone whose bad side he never wants to get on.
He wouldn’t dare. Out of every person in that godforsaken clan, she is the only one he actually respects. Though, he always hated how she let them walk all over her. She could have just given Satoru the word a long time ago and he would have killed all of them.
But, much like his affairs with the higher ups, he supposes it would never have been the best course of action anyways.
“He’s useful,” Satoru finds himself admitting, though he has no intentions of simply using and abusing Yuji like the higher ups do. “If he can contain all twenty, we might have a shot at getting rid of Sukuna for good.”
“Those the elders words or yours?” Wise as always, seeing right through him even when everyone else cannot.
“Both, I suppose.”
His mother hums, turning around to look at him, blue eyes meeting impossibly bluer ones. “They want him dead, I’m sure you know this. Even if it is only one finger, getting rid of it will ensure that Sukuna will never rise to full power again.”
“He’s a kid,” Satoru replies, although he knows there are so many other factors in play here than just that one. It is just the one that’s most important. “Besides, I have a plan. Those ugly bastards at the top might not like it, but when have I ever cared about what they think?”
“Satoru,” she scolds warningly, though the tiniest of smiles prick at her lips. “Manners.”
Satoru lets himself smile, bowing his head and loosening his grasp on his sleeves as he approaches closer to her. She turns to fully face him as he goes, peering up at him with that same kind, motherly expression she always did when they were alone. The clan members never really liked it when she showed her son what it was like to be soft. But softness is something that he has found to be a need every once in a while.
Even just a little bit.
Not once in his life did his mother ever treat him like he was simply a machine, giving him every opportunity to behave like a normal child when the more pristine clan members weren’t looking. Everyone else seemed to want him to be nothing more than a beacon of power. All she wanted was for him to be her son.
He may have been a goody two-shoes while they were fawning over him, but underneath those ridiculous manners his mother was forced to teach him and that stuck up demeanor the others had taught him to adopt, he was just a mischievous and curious little boy whom his mother gladly let misbehave every now and then.
Her hands reach for his uniform, straightening it out though there isn’t much wrong with it just to busy herself. She sighs, dusting some imaginary matter from his shoulder. “I hope this plan of yours is as foolproof as you think it is. What would you like me to tell them?”
To fuck off, Satoru wants to say. Though he would never dare use that kind of language around his mother lest she actually slap him. He almost laughs at the thought.
Instead, he shrugs. “Whatever you need to. But I have it under control, mother. They might not see it the way I do, but when have they ever?”
She meets his eyes again, smoothing her palms over his chest and gently patting his heart. “Just beware of the consequences if you fail, Satoru. They’re afraid of what will happen if Ryomen Sukuna rises to full power again, and they should be. I am too. You can do what you want, but just know what you’re risking.”
He covers her hand with his own, offering a single nod before she slips away from him. There are many risks that comes with what he is doing, he knows this. Risks that aren’t just for him. But this is something he has to do.
It isn’t like he can’t handle it.
He watches her leave, this time making her way down the hill without help, and something unusually painful pricks in his chest. There’s something about watching her walk away from him, just like he quite literally did all that time ago, that makes him feel like a young boy again, calling out for her as she’s escorted away from him after he slipped up and got the clan heads on his back.
It slips out before he can stop it. “Mama.”
His legs are moving before he can think, taking long strides across the lush glass after her, feeling relived when she stops at the sound of his voice. When he reaches her, he shifts to place himself lower than she, their heights matching so that they can see eye to eye. Only from here can he truly see how tired she looks.
The upper clan members must have been giving her hell again. Maybe his father found out about his favoritism towards his mother after all.
He stares at her for a moment, wanting to say everything but unable to come up with the words needed to express the feelings he’s become so accustomed to shoving down. But that’s just part of being a Gojo. His mother is the one who taught him that.
They never needed words anyways. Not when they shared the same blood.
Her expression softens, and suddenly she looks much more like his mother and less like a haltered clan member. Gentle fingers remove a strand of hair from his eyes, her lips pressing together in a sad smile. “Oh, Satoru.”
Her voice is incredibly fond when she says his name, the sound transporting him back to a time when he was still too small to think about the things his clan tried to force down his throat— the responsibilities he would learn to accept, the power and status he would hold, the duties of being clan head. His mother tried to protect him the best she could, but somehow he still ended up the bratty teenage boy with behavior she tried to prevent.
The asshole kid who never knew what it was like to have friends before Suguru. The stuck up teenager too strong willed for his own good. The guy who thought he was better than everyone else, though he quite literally was in a way.
The most misunderstood of them all.
He realizes then how much he missed her, leaning into her touch like a child deprived of love as her warm palm pulls his head down to rest against her shoulder. It’s strange, having someone hold him like this even if it is his mother. Even stranger, he supposes, is that the person she’s holding is a grown man.
But, in the cracks of the heart that beats beneath his chest, hidden beneath all of the cold he has let settle inside his aching vessel, he supposes that maybe it isn’t strange at all. Not as strange as his Infinity subconsciously being down this whole time, anyway.
He hadn’t realized how much he’s missed her.
How much he’s missed this.
His arms wind around her torso after a long moment, relaxing into her hold like he’s finally come home after a millennia of searching for somewhere to rest his head, his brows pinching with an emotion he can’t describe but feels a little too much like longing. He breathes in her scent, which painfully reminds him of his childhood, both horrible and wonderful memories mixing together in a tainted bag of emotion that he wants to set up in flames.
But he can’t, because those memories are as much hers as they are his.
His mother hums against his snowy white locks, carding her fingers through it in a gesture that brings him more comfort than she could imagine. “I’ve missed you, Satoru. I understand why you don’t come around often, but as your mother, I would at least appreciate a phone call every now and again.”
I’m sorry, are the words he wants to say but never learned how to speak.
“I’ll try to check in more,” is what he murmurs instead.
“More than just once or twice a year,” she pushes, voice gentle and a bit teasing despite the seriousness hidden beneath it all.
Satoru chuckles, pulling back to look at her directly and leaning into the motherly hand that finds rest on his cheek. No other being on earth can wrangle him in this way. No one except for the one who made him. “More than that, I promise.”
Her playfully pointed gaze relaxes, fingers patting his cheek. “Much better.”