[Satoru doesn't want to sit up. When he considers complying with Suguru's (reasonable) suggestion, he immediately wants to resist. To sit up is to give the vow the gravity that it deserves, but the fact that it requires solemnity at all is hard to accept. It solidifies what the binding vow represents — a band aid over a huge gap of time and distance. It acknowledges that they now require a degree of decorum to create what once would have been a simple agreement. It establishes the mutual sacrifices that will be made here, not only concerning vulnerabilities, but also as far as what Satoru is willing to grant Suguru in terms of his behavior. It feels like another backslide into the past, only wrong, because once it would have been enough for Satoru to give Suguru a playful shove to seal a deal. Once, lying here and lazily nodding his head have been enough.
But a binding vow is as it is labeled: binding. A sealing of a promise with cursed energy, the violation of which leads to significant penalties. It's a big deal. For Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in generations, to make a binding vow with anyone is an even bigger deal. Making it with an enemy is huge.
Which is why Satoru drags his feet.]
We don't have to treat this as seriously as the geezers do.
[Meaning the higher-ups, who follow all sorts of rituals in the creation of binding vows. Those traditions are boring and unnecessary, when all he and Suguru need to do initiating the binding of their cursed energy.
But it's an empty protest. He's already moving, though he takes his time in complying — stretching his arm above his head, rubbing his eyes through his blindfold, and then slowly working himself up into a casual sitting position.]
You do the honors.
[Of stating the terms in full, since Suguru has always been better at formalities than Satoru. Meanwhile, Satoru will tug down his blindfold to watch and ensure the binding successfully takes.
And to look at Suguru as he gives up his freedom to work alongside him once more.]
[the problem with satoru—then, and now, and forever—is how comfortable he feels? oh, not immediately, and not to the degree that suguru lets his guard down; it's impossible to forget that they exist on opposite ends of the spectrum these days, enemies instead of friends—but then comes a joke, or a handful of short, stupid texts. something simple that deserves no attention whatsoever, because suguru made his choice; suguru committed to his path.
and yet the simplest things often prove the most insidious, somehow slipping through cracks that should not exist. they make it easy to remember, to miss, to mourn the way things used to be; they make suguru want to step closer to satoru when he should be taking three steps back, and that's dangerous, so dangerous. for both of them. neither of them can afford to let the other in.
so while they wouldn't have needed to treat this so seriously, once upon a time? while they wouldn't have needed to make this vow at all? now they need to draw this line in the sand—which is why, as satoru makes a show of sitting up, suguru calmly plucks the seed from his lap, slipping it into his robes before he purposely, pointedly, pushes himself to his feet. satoru allowing suguru to take the reins is—well. it would have been par for the course, a decade back; now it feels like a tease and a test, twisted together.
it's fine. suguru does not intend to rock the boat at this stage, and so, coolly calmly:]
Until we find a way off this train, I, Suguru Geto, swear to work alongside you. I swear to abide by the rules and regulations of a jujutsu sorcerer.
[which still burns? threatens to stick in his throat, honestly, but he pushes past it with feigned ease, eyes betraying nothing as they fall to satoru's.]
And you, Satoru Gojo, swear to be honest.
[the briefest pause, then, as suguru considers how to word the most pressing part of this arrangement—but it's nothing. a barely noticeable break as he holds out his right hand, palm facing upward, for satoru to take, to haul himself up—if he so chooses. a tease and a test of suguru's own design.]
You swear that, when you return, you will neither harm Mimiko or Nanako, nor bring them to the school against their will.
[When Satoru was younger, he took a lot for granted.
Raised to be the strongest from the moment he opened his Six Eyes, his identity as the most important member of the Gojo clan — and future most important sorcerer of all the clans — was all he had. It was all that mattered. Everyone else was just there, either to help or try (and fail) to hinder. He was used to getting everything he could possibly want but nothing that he truly needed, and it affected his view of the world around him.
And then he went to school and met Suguru.
Suguru was the only one who stood up to him — the only one capable of holding his own against him. He was the only one who had the gall to chide him for his behavior, and the only one who didn't judge him for his vulnerabilities. Suguru was his one and only best friend — and Satoru believed he would always be there.
Satoru took him for granted. Despite his Six Eyes and all the power at his disposal — despite all his training to truly become the strongest, so that he would never repeat his failures in fighting against Toji Fushiguro — he didn't see what he needed to see most. And while that singular mistake would set the foundation for his future plans — while it would force him to grow up and do something about the state of jujutsu society — it cost him the single, most important person in his life.
Now, looking at the hand that is extended to him and then meeting Suguru's eyes, Satoru sees him. Suguru can breeze through the formal words and cover his pauses all he wants, but Satoru knows where and how to look. He doesn't make the same mistake.
And he knows that this isn't easy. He knows that he is putting Suguru in a box to which Suguru would not return if he had other options — a deal he would have rejected, if Satoru would not promise to keep two teenage girls safe. He knows that this vow costs more than mere words; it costs the values and beliefs that Suguru built up around himself when he saw jujutsu society for what it was.
For all that is broken between them, for all that Suguru's death is on his hands, for all that Suguru thought about killing him or taking his eyes or partnering up with Sukuna — he sees Suguru. More than the curse user. More than his deeds.
And he sees himself, extending his hand and setting it atop Suguru's with a thin layer of Infinity between them. He sees himself taking too big a risk, making dangerous promises, and setting himself up for an inevitability at the end of this binding vow. He sees himself handing over small truths, little pieces of himself in the form of honesty, that Suguru will take and hold close, and eventually turn against him. Satoru sees himself giving in to his only weakness yet again.
But he's learned his lesson about taking Suguru for granted. As he hoists himself up with his Infinity between their palms, he decides to give Suguru something he should have long ago: a supportive touch. A gesture, to show that for all that is marred between them, for all that they will likely end up hurting each other in the end — he sees, and he knows.
Before their cursed energy binds them together, Satoru stands and allows Suguru into his Infinity. Their palms meet, skin to skin, and Satoru clasps his hand. He steps closer, leaning in until his forehead barely brushes against Suguru's.
He says:]
I swear.
[Never one to respect lines in the sand or decorum of any kind, Satoru steps right across Suguru's boundary with a tease and a test —
[touching someone without actually touching them is—there is a disconnect? a misfire in the brain as one registers the contact that does not exist. suguru sees satoru's fingers fold over his own; suguru sees the sliver of space between their hands, so thin as to be nonexistent—and yet there is only weight. pressure. the discomfort that is holding onto something that simply is not there.
it doesn't matter that suguru expected this, just as it doesn't matter that this is far from the first time suguru has experienced this. there is something off—wrong—about touching satoru without touching him at all, because it serves as yet another measure of how everything between them has changed. suguru, despite himself, remembers what it was like to be allowed in.
he does not expect satoru to let him in once more.
but satoru at his best, as suguru knows, is satoru breaking the rules, testing the limits, pushing the boundaries—so how quintessentially him, really, to allow suguru in when suguru least expects it? to allow suguru a moment—just a moment—to process the warmth of his skin, the ease with which their hands fit together, before he takes it that much further, leaning into suguru's space with no hesitation whatsoever. as though this closeness is his right.
suguru should take this as a warning, of sorts. a gentle reminder that he has no way to keep satoru at bay—except that it wouldn't matter if he did. he knows this. satoru would always, always, find a way through, not because he is the strongest—but because after all of these years, he remains the one thing suguru can't let go.
and that's what makes satoru so very dangerous. techniques can be accounted for, planned around; emotions, however, cannot, as evidenced by the way suguru's chest tightens as he holds satoru's gaze. what would he have done ten years ago? step on satoru's toes? kiss the corner of satoru's mouth in the hopes of flustering him? suguru wonders, briefly, if such a trick would still work—but the thought leaves him as a sigh, so soft it's almost impossible to hear. what matters now is the prickle of satoru's cursed energy, a sensation every bit as familiar as satoru's touch. that is what suguru should focus on; that is where suguru should direct his full attention.
but while suguru's eyes do drop to their hands, noting that sliver of space which no longer exists, leans infinitesimally closer? not quite willing to match satoru's daring; unable to resist satoru's pull. some things never change.]
I swear.
[a binding vow is such a simple thing, in theory. suguru speaks the words and allows his cursed energy to mingle with satoru's, a sort of push-and-pull that is all that is required to lock them into an entirely new form of coexistence—but as suguru looks back up at satoru, he thinks of the complexities. binding vow or no, they do not fit together as easily as they once did.
and that is what sends suguru pulling away, after lingering for a second longer: the thought that they could. maybe.]
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no subject
But a binding vow is as it is labeled: binding. A sealing of a promise with cursed energy, the violation of which leads to significant penalties. It's a big deal. For Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in generations, to make a binding vow with anyone is an even bigger deal. Making it with an enemy is huge.
Which is why Satoru drags his feet.]
We don't have to treat this as seriously as the geezers do.
[Meaning the higher-ups, who follow all sorts of rituals in the creation of binding vows. Those traditions are boring and unnecessary, when all he and Suguru need to do initiating the binding of their cursed energy.
But it's an empty protest. He's already moving, though he takes his time in complying — stretching his arm above his head, rubbing his eyes through his blindfold, and then slowly working himself up into a casual sitting position.]
You do the honors.
[Of stating the terms in full, since Suguru has always been better at formalities than Satoru. Meanwhile, Satoru will tug down his blindfold to watch and ensure the binding successfully takes.
And to look at Suguru as he gives up his freedom to work alongside him once more.]
no subject
and yet the simplest things often prove the most insidious, somehow slipping through cracks that should not exist. they make it easy to remember, to miss, to mourn the way things used to be; they make suguru want to step closer to satoru when he should be taking three steps back, and that's dangerous, so dangerous. for both of them. neither of them can afford to let the other in.
so while they wouldn't have needed to treat this so seriously, once upon a time? while they wouldn't have needed to make this vow at all? now they need to draw this line in the sand—which is why, as satoru makes a show of sitting up, suguru calmly plucks the seed from his lap, slipping it into his robes before he purposely, pointedly, pushes himself to his feet. satoru allowing suguru to take the reins is—well. it would have been par for the course, a decade back; now it feels like a tease and a test, twisted together.
it's fine. suguru does not intend to rock the boat at this stage, and so, coolly calmly:]
Until we find a way off this train, I, Suguru Geto, swear to work alongside you. I swear to abide by the rules and regulations of a jujutsu sorcerer.
[which still burns? threatens to stick in his throat, honestly, but he pushes past it with feigned ease, eyes betraying nothing as they fall to satoru's.]
And you, Satoru Gojo, swear to be honest.
[the briefest pause, then, as suguru considers how to word the most pressing part of this arrangement—but it's nothing. a barely noticeable break as he holds out his right hand, palm facing upward, for satoru to take, to haul himself up—if he so chooses. a tease and a test of suguru's own design.]
You swear that, when you return, you will neither harm Mimiko or Nanako, nor bring them to the school against their will.
[so formal. so important.]
no subject
Raised to be the strongest from the moment he opened his Six Eyes, his identity as the most important member of the Gojo clan — and future most important sorcerer of all the clans — was all he had. It was all that mattered. Everyone else was just there, either to help or try (and fail) to hinder. He was used to getting everything he could possibly want but nothing that he truly needed, and it affected his view of the world around him.
And then he went to school and met Suguru.
Suguru was the only one who stood up to him — the only one capable of holding his own against him. He was the only one who had the gall to chide him for his behavior, and the only one who didn't judge him for his vulnerabilities. Suguru was his one and only best friend — and Satoru believed he would always be there.
Satoru took him for granted. Despite his Six Eyes and all the power at his disposal — despite all his training to truly become the strongest, so that he would never repeat his failures in fighting against Toji Fushiguro — he didn't see what he needed to see most. And while that singular mistake would set the foundation for his future plans — while it would force him to grow up and do something about the state of jujutsu society — it cost him the single, most important person in his life.
Now, looking at the hand that is extended to him and then meeting Suguru's eyes, Satoru sees him. Suguru can breeze through the formal words and cover his pauses all he wants, but Satoru knows where and how to look. He doesn't make the same mistake.
And he knows that this isn't easy. He knows that he is putting Suguru in a box to which Suguru would not return if he had other options — a deal he would have rejected, if Satoru would not promise to keep two teenage girls safe. He knows that this vow costs more than mere words; it costs the values and beliefs that Suguru built up around himself when he saw jujutsu society for what it was.
For all that is broken between them, for all that Suguru's death is on his hands, for all that Suguru thought about killing him or taking his eyes or partnering up with Sukuna — he sees Suguru. More than the curse user. More than his deeds.
And he sees himself, extending his hand and setting it atop Suguru's with a thin layer of Infinity between them. He sees himself taking too big a risk, making dangerous promises, and setting himself up for an inevitability at the end of this binding vow. He sees himself handing over small truths, little pieces of himself in the form of honesty, that Suguru will take and hold close, and eventually turn against him. Satoru sees himself giving in to his only weakness yet again.
But he's learned his lesson about taking Suguru for granted. As he hoists himself up with his Infinity between their palms, he decides to give Suguru something he should have long ago: a supportive touch. A gesture, to show that for all that is marred between them, for all that they will likely end up hurting each other in the end — he sees, and he knows.
Before their cursed energy binds them together, Satoru stands and allows Suguru into his Infinity. Their palms meet, skin to skin, and Satoru clasps his hand. He steps closer, leaning in until his forehead barely brushes against Suguru's.
He says:]
I swear.
[Never one to respect lines in the sand or decorum of any kind, Satoru steps right across Suguru's boundary with a tease and a test —
and one final measure of trust.]
no subject
it doesn't matter that suguru expected this, just as it doesn't matter that this is far from the first time suguru has experienced this. there is something off—wrong—about touching satoru without touching him at all, because it serves as yet another measure of how everything between them has changed. suguru, despite himself, remembers what it was like to be allowed in.
he does not expect satoru to let him in once more.
but satoru at his best, as suguru knows, is satoru breaking the rules, testing the limits, pushing the boundaries—so how quintessentially him, really, to allow suguru in when suguru least expects it? to allow suguru a moment—just a moment—to process the warmth of his skin, the ease with which their hands fit together, before he takes it that much further, leaning into suguru's space with no hesitation whatsoever. as though this closeness is his right.
suguru should take this as a warning, of sorts. a gentle reminder that he has no way to keep satoru at bay—except that it wouldn't matter if he did. he knows this. satoru would always, always, find a way through, not because he is the strongest—but because after all of these years, he remains the one thing suguru can't let go.
and that's what makes satoru so very dangerous. techniques can be accounted for, planned around; emotions, however, cannot, as evidenced by the way suguru's chest tightens as he holds satoru's gaze. what would he have done ten years ago? step on satoru's toes? kiss the corner of satoru's mouth in the hopes of flustering him? suguru wonders, briefly, if such a trick would still work—but the thought leaves him as a sigh, so soft it's almost impossible to hear. what matters now is the prickle of satoru's cursed energy, a sensation every bit as familiar as satoru's touch. that is what suguru should focus on; that is where suguru should direct his full attention.
but while suguru's eyes do drop to their hands, noting that sliver of space which no longer exists, leans infinitesimally closer? not quite willing to match satoru's daring; unable to resist satoru's pull. some things never change.]
I swear.
[a binding vow is such a simple thing, in theory. suguru speaks the words and allows his cursed energy to mingle with satoru's, a sort of push-and-pull that is all that is required to lock them into an entirely new form of coexistence—but as suguru looks back up at satoru, he thinks of the complexities. binding vow or no, they do not fit together as easily as they once did.
and that is what sends suguru pulling away, after lingering for a second longer: the thought that they could. maybe.]