Heart to Heart

Gojo Satoru was a pain. An insufferable, loud, overpowered pain.

But he was your pain now, and somehow, over the months, you’d gotten used to it.

Gone were the days of constant bickering in the middle of missions, at least to the degree where Geto threatened to file an official complaint with Yaga. Now, your fights were more like background noise, something that came and went as naturally as breathing. You had learned to tolerate him, maybe even trust him, though you’d never say it out loud.

He still annoyed the hell out of you. But at least he wasn’t completely useless.

Which was why it pissed you off when he started acting weird.

“You’re staring,” Geto said one afternoon, not even looking up from his book. You blinked, snapping out of it, only to realize you’d been watching Gojo for the past five minutes.

He was sitting on the grass a few feet away, tossing a ball of cursed energy up and down, pretending to be focused on something else, but you could feel it. The shift.

Something was off.

“I’m not staring,” you muttered.

Geto finally looked up, unimpressed. “You’ve been watching him like a hawk all week.”

“Because he’s acting weird.”

“He’s always weird.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

And it was.

It was the little things. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he hesitated, just barely, before making one of his usual snarky remarks. The way he always managed to sit just a little closer than necessary, his knee brushing against yours, his shoulder bumping into you.

It wasn’t anything obvious. Not to anyone else, at least.

But you knew Gojo.

And this wasn’t normal.

“Maybe he’s finally realized how much he loves you,” Geto teased, flipping a page.

You scoffed. “Please. That would be a nightmare.”

“Would it?”

You ignored the way something in your chest twisted at that.

Later That Evening

“Satoru. What’s wrong with you?”

The two of you were walking back from training, the sky darkening into a deep blue. The streets of Tokyo stretched out ahead, neon lights flickering in the distance. It was calm, quiet, but Gojo’s energy buzzed like static, crackling just under the surface.

“Wrong with me?” He grinned, tilting his head. “Nothing. I’m perfect.”

“You’ve been weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

You stopped walking. “I’m serious.”

For a second, something flickered across his face, too quick

For a second, something flickered across his face, too quick to catch. Then, as always, he masked it with that ridiculous, lazy grin.

“You’re always so serious,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Maybe you should try relaxing for once. I hear it’s good for your health.”

You weren’t buying it.

“Satoru,” you pressed.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have a comeback.

Instead, he clicked his tongue, looking off to the side, like he was debating something. His usual arrogance was still there, but beneath it, something else lingered—something unfamiliar.

Then, with a shrug, he changed the subject.

“You hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s get food.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I swear to god—”

“Ramen?” He tapped his chin, completely ignoring you. “Or maybe takoyaki? Ooh, or sushi. Hey, Geto was talking about that new place downtown, the one with—”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“Yup!”

You let out a frustrated groan, dragging a hand down your face.

This wasn’t working. He wasn’t going to tell you what was up, and you sure as hell weren’t going to force it out of him in the middle of the street. If he wanted to play this game, fine. You’d let it go. For now.

But you’d be watching.

————————

Over the next few weeks, you noticed it even more.

It was in the way he hovered, just slightly, like some overpowered guard dog. Not enough for anyone else to pick up on, but enough for you to feel it. The way he never let you out of his sight during missions. The way he always made sure you were standing behind him in a fight. The way he watched, sharp and calculating, like he was waiting for something to happen.

It was in the way his jokes started shifting, too. Less you’re annoying and more you’d miss me if I was gone. Less I’m the strongest and more don’t die on me, okay?

Like he was afraid of something.

Like he was afraid of losing you.

And you didn’t know why.

One Night, on a Rooftop

You found him sitting on the edge of the school’s rooftop, legs dangling over the side, eyes fixed on the city below. His blindfold was pulled down around his neck, exposing those ridiculous, glowing blue eyes, but for once, they weren’t full of mischief or arrogance.

They were far away.

Lost.

You hesitated, then sat down beside him. Neither of you spoke for a moment, just letting the wind carry the silence between you.

Then, finally, you broke it.

“Satoru,” you said quietly, “what’s going on?”

This time, he didn’t dodge.

This time, he let out a small breath, tilting his head back, looking up at the stars.

“This whole thing,” he murmured, voice quieter than usual, “this whole… sorcerer life. It’s a joke, isn’t it?”

Your chest tightened.

You didn’t say anything, just let him talk.

“We fight, we win, we lose, we die,” he continued, voice even but heavy. “Over and over and over again. No matter how strong we are. No matter how much we train. It doesn’t matter. One day, we just… stop being here.”

Your hands curled into fists.

“That’s not true,” you said, even though you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Gojo gave you a look, like he could see straight through you. Like he knew you weren’t convinced.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not,” you said immediately.

He let out a small chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Wow. A compliment. I should write this down.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

And then, before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“Why have you been acting weird around me?”

The teasing edge in his expression flickered, just for a moment.

Then, slowly, he smirked. “Weird? Me? Never.”

“Satoru.”

His smirk softened.

And then, he said something you weren’t expecting.

“Because you make it feel real.”

You blinked. “What?”

He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, gazing at the sky again. “All of this. Being a sorcerer, being strong, being untouchable. It’s like… I don’t know. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Like I’m just playing some stupid game, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

His fingers twitched slightly.

“But you,” he continued, voice quieter now, “you make it feel like I’m here. Like it actually matters.”

Something inside you stilled.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the most arrogant, untouchable person you knew, had just let his guard down.

For you.

And for the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

So instead, you just sat there, staring at the stars, sitting next to a boy who carried the world on his shoulders, who acted like nothing could touch him, but somehow, for some reason

You did.