Chapter Text
Saturday, 6 pm.
Not one, not two, but three Satorus.
You’re dreaming, yeah. You’re totally dreaming. Or maybe it’s more appropriate to say a nightmare. All of them talking in a chaotic conversation about why, when, how and where it all happened, while you just found yourself in the middle of it all. With no way to escape. Not like you can easily sneak away when you have three versions of The Strongest Sorcerer of his time looming over you.
“Satoru- I mean, you guys, you… three? Whatever. I’ll just go take some air, I need to think about everything that happened,” you end up saying, interrupting their unstopping talking. Confused on how to refer to them, him, Satoru, you just give up and step away.
“Don’t leave me with those three!” exclaims one of them, which you recognize being your Satoru, the one from this timeline. His hand grabs your arm and he’s already at your side in a second.
“I’m you from the future, we’re basically the same person,” retorts the blindfolded one, crossing his arms on his chest. “Ah, what a drag…” he adds to himself, pinching his nose.
“Now I understand why people call me annoying,” retorts your Satoru, starting to lose patience at a situation that is out of his control, and worstly, with himself. He always works alone, but having to team up with two more versions of him that come from the future, and that clearly know more than him, makes Satoru feel this strange inferiority yet curious feeling. He had dreams about seeing some sort of doppelganger, having fun by eating tons of food together and pulling pranks on Nanami. Teamwork is dreamwork, after all.
But having to team up with himself for the sake of knowing why this situation is happening and how to deal with it, is a living nightmare. So, teamwork feels more like nightmarework at this point. He kind of regrets how he acts with Ijichi sometimes -all the time-.
“Just leave y/n be,” interferes the older Satoru, body full of fresh scars, making the younger him step back a good meter away. “Go before I- we change our mind,” he winks at you and you quickly stare at the red lines on his face with intense worry and confusion, before walking towards the door of your apartment.
“Yeah, I’ll just go for a quick walk down the block. So stay here until I come back, and please don’t make a mess!” you exclaim as you point at them three with some authority.
“Me? Doing a mess? You wound me, y/n!” retorts your Satoru with a big smile on his face, hand over his heart as if he received a dagger.
“You’re the messier of us three,” scoffs the scars one, pointing at all the sweets and chips bags scattered on the dining table. Empty, on top of that. Right, he left them yesterday when he came for a sleepover, and forgot to throw them in the trash.
You close the door in a loud bang to block their bickering, and quickly slide down the stairs at all speed to find some fresh air when you step outside. Lost in thoughts, you start reminiscing about how this chaos started.
And this, barely some hours ago.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Saturday, 1 pm.
“Satoru, I swear to god if you won’t let me go alone to this mission, I’ll take your eyes out myself,” you snap, stopping your way towards Ijichi’s car to face the insufferable bane of your existence.
“Eh? My precious Six Eyes? Come on, don’t be a buzzkill, let me come with you,” he coos, smoothly sliding closer to you. His finger lifts the white bandage wrapped around the left shiny blue. Just enough to properly look at you.
“Sometimes I wonder why you’re even my best friend,” you mutter, passing your hand over your face to try to wipe away the exhaustion of this banter that is starting to last too long. Satoru tilts his head to the side, lazy smirk pulling at his lips.
“Because you love me so much. I know, who wouldn’t? I’m Gojo Sato-” you nudge him, stopping him before he can finish his sentence. He laughs slightly. “Ok, shut it down,” you say and start to walk again towards the car barely meters away.
Yet, you feel the atmosphere shift. His hand grabs your wrist, strong enough to stop you from going farther.
“Y/n, I’m serious. I’m coming with you,” Satoru insists. You sigh, gathering some strength to face this one more time. “No you’re not,” you retort.
“That’s a dangerous mission. You’re not strong enough for it. You’ll need my help,” he replies, making you face him. Expression colder, less joking around, only seriousness. You frown at the way he called you, feeling hurt by it.
“Not strong enough? Excuse-me?” you ask one more time, giving him the chance to apologize and take back his words.
“Yeah, you heard me,” yet he confirms. You scoff, yanking your wrist away from his grip.
“Fuck off, Satoru,” you snap at him, and don’t let him have the time to answer that you directly enter the black car and slam the door at his nose.
“Ijichi, please let’s go quick,” you exclaim. Sensing the tension, he does as asked and pulls away. You don’t even look at him staring at the car disappearing on the road. You even receive a text after some minutes, Satoru saying ‘y/n, don’t be stupid and let me come with you,’ and ‘you know I care about you,’ ‘are you really going to ignore me?’ ‘fine, suit yourself,’ and finally ‘please be safe.’
You stare at the screen, interrupted by Ijichi pulling over in a small street of Shinjuku. At the same time, your phone dies, no more battery. Great. Arriving at the location of the mission, having to face a grade 1 curse, you immediately try to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. But your mind keeps wondering about what just happened. You cast the veil and enter the abandoned building.
When the curse finally shows itself, the fight starts in the dust of this empty hallway. The curse is small, but extremely powerful.
“Me? Not strong enough? Is he calling me weak? I can’t believe it! He’s really being a dick,” you exclaim to yourself mid-fight, wiping the sweat on your forehead. The curse answers something, mocking, but you don’t really pay attention to it.
Actually, you don’t pay much attention to the critical blow it launches at you. Tired of the fight being more complicated than you expected, it’s only at the last second that you see it coming. Time seems to almost stop, eyes widening at the realization that what it threw at you might be what will end your life.
“Fuck!” you curse in a last attempt to protect yourself, preparing to receive it right in your heart, a fast reflex of throwing a last hope of attack at the curse. Something shifts in the atmosphere surrounding you, all at once.
A flash of blue, your eyes are blinded in what seems like death, then the curses blood splatter everywhere. You fall on your ass, against the destroyed wall, catching back your breath and adjusting your earring from the intense ringing. That wasn’t you. You’re not the one that just ended the curse with some blue technique.
“You better not die on me yet,” exclaims a voice that you instantly recognize. Him, obviously. You raise your head, only to see his shadow looming over you. The dust slowly dissipates around him, revealing inch by inch his face. Angry at his presence, you stand up on your wobbly legs.
“Satoru, I can’t believe you still came even though I told you to leave me alone! I was perfectly handling my-” you stop yourself when you notice a black tissue covering his eyes, instead of the usual white bandage, “-self,” you finish in a breath. Staring at his form, his cursed energy vibrates stronger than usual.
“Wow, easy there, baby. Didn’t seem like handling yourself perfectly fine to me, y/n,” he raises his hands before putting one in his pocket, the other tenderly bringing you closer to him. Your head falls on his chest, and you frown confused.
Oh, that’s new. The nickname. He never called you ‘baby’ before. You put some distance, which makes him, as you suppose, stare at you in confusion too. But why would he be confused? You’re still mad at him.
“What is that blindfold? A new style?” you end up asking, rubbing the blood off your face. Yours, obviously. Oh, and some from the curse that he obliterated. Satoru lifts his said blindfold to look at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Did you hit your head? You must have a concussion,” he retorts, now taking your face in his hands, warm against your cold cheeks. His touch brings you comfort, as he analyzes your head. But since he’s clearly making fun of you, you don’t take it sweetly and yank off his wrists.
“Get away from me, and stop joking around. Why suddenly changing your bandage?” you ask annoyed. Satoru stops moving, for a solid second looking down at you seriously. His eyes bore into your skull, your cursed energy, your thoughts, searching for informations you don’t even know why he’s looking for them.
“You’re the one kidding me right now. I changed it almost two years ago,” he answers, voice less light. You jerk your face in confusion. He’s pranking you. For sure.
“What? Barely one hour ago you were wearing your bandages!” you protest. Satoru stares around him, then checks his phone. No signal. He puts it back in his pocket and steps closer, analyzing you.
“Just to be sure, what year is it?” he asks. You have a nervous laugh, not understanding why he’s asking you that.
“2014. And yet you’re the one saying I had a concussion ?.. the irony,” you answer, now thinking he’s going delirious. He turns around you, hand on his chin, circling round and round. Your head has to follow his lead.
“What are you doing?”
He stops, then leans very close, too close. Not that you’re not used to you and Satoru being physically close. He’s your best friend, after all. But his lips are almost brushing yours. He then suddenly straightens his back, leaving you some space.
“Hmm, that’s what I was thinking, you’re the younger you, and I’m the older me,” he states as a matter of fact.
“Younger me?” you question, twice confused now. What is he even saying?
“Come on baby, ‘think I’m lying to you?” he muses, whipping a tiny cut on your chin with his thumb, carefully. Again with that nickname. You shake your head.
“That’s… Let’s imagine I believe you. If you’re here, from the future, where is my Satoru?” you ask in a frown.
“Hey, I’m still yours, and more than him actually. But, to be honest, I don’t know. Maybe I took his place, maybe we’re two of us now,” he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets in a hum. Again, his eyes shift all around him, Six Eyes trying to find an answer to this situation.
“If you’re pranking me right now, know that it’s not funny,” you argue, pointing at him. If he’s being for real, you’re going to freak out. He sighs.
“Ok, you’re not listening. I’m bringing you to Shoko. You’re bleeding,” he comments instead, “but well, I hope the other Satoru, if there is one, is not at the campus. It would start a riot to see the two of us there. Well, at least until I understand better what just happened,” he adds before scooping you up efficiently in his arms, cradling your body against his chest with ease. You yelp, startled, and to not fall, your hands roll around his neck.
“I can walk,” you protest. He smiles, raising an eyebrow, “come on baby, you love when I’m taking you in my arms,” he replies. Once again he’s flirting in a way that is bolder than the usual, calling you nicknames… Is he really from the future?
“Can you quit calling me baby?” you prefer to say. He raises an eyebrow, some understanding flashing before his eyes while he starts to walk towards the edge of the veil.
“Oh, that’s right, we’re still not dating in 2014,” he shrugs lightly. You almost choke on your saliva, staring at him eyes wide open. “Dating?!” you blurt out. He chuckles lightly, looking at you fondly for some seconds before staring back before him.
“Hey, don’t freak out too much. From my timeline, I’ve been dating you for a few years now,” he explains simply. You bite your lower lip, hardly realizing what he’s saying. Ok, you do have feelings for your best friend. But learning that in a possible future you’re dating him, means he loves you too. Romantically. Not wanting to overthink it too much, you decide to ask something else.
“What year are you from, then?”
“2018,” he says, passing through the veil. He uncasts it for you. You take the opportunity to stare at him. You can’t help but feel like he’s telling the truth. He does look older now that you look at it. More mature looking. His cursed energy too seems more intense. And the change of the attire with the blindfold.
“That’s crazy,” you whisper. You call Ijichi to come pick you up, and everything happens fast. You’re put in the car, and Satoru enters it as well, staring at Ijichi with a knowing look. Surely he’s thinking how in four years he still has the same face, or the contrary. Yet, the black haired man is surprised to see him, as he didn’t recall driving him to the exact location of your mission. He stares at the tissue over his eyes, questioning it with a small voice while engaging on the road.
“Oh? The blindfold? Yeah, just wanted to try something new,” lies Satoru. You’re anxious when you arrive at the campus. You don’t know if you’ll see your original Satoru in here, or maybe he disappeared because one from the future is standing next to you, cooing in a way that tries to convince you to let him take you in his arms and bring you to Shoko himself.
Instead of listening to your protest, he directly teleports you there, so he’ll avoid as many people as he can. He opens the door with his foot, facing the woman that was normally on her break. She turns around and raises an eyebrow, before looking down at you with some worry.
“Shoko! Mind taking care of sweet y/n over here?” he asks cheerfully, laying you down himself on the white bed.
She doesn’t even ask about the blindfold, probably thinking it’s just Satoru being Satoru. Not one from the future, obviously. Yet, as she approaches you to analyze your condition, she raises an eyebrow while looking slightly at him.
“What are you doing here? You told me earlier you left for a mission. Is it already finished?” she asks as she inspects your wounds, and starts to work her cursed energy while you suck up a groan of discomfort.
“Made it quickly,” Satoru lies, with an arrogance that apparently didn’t leave him four years in the future. But having a new information about the situation, now knowing that the original Satoru of your timeline went to a mission, might help you out in meeting him again and arrange the situation. If he still exists, that is.
“Oh, a mission? What did he said to you? He refuses to tell me,” you say lightly, pointing at the blindfolded one as if you were having your usual banter in between the two of you. To add to the lie, Satoru nods. Shoko, always on your side, chuckles.
“Well… Don’t know much, aside from the fact that it was one of the missions he postponed for two weeks. So I expected that it would take the afternoon,” she explains, side-eyeing him. He tilts his head to the side, smirking. Great, that doesn’t help you much.
“What can I say, I made it fast,” he fakely defends himself, exactly like he would have normally done. Some more minutes pass, Shoko finishes stitching you up as Satoru has to turn his back to not look at your naked chest. But knowing that in his timeline he’s your boyfriend, and for God knows how long, he mostly already knows every inch of your bare body. That makes you slightly embarrassed.
Shoko finally lets you go. Satoru turns back around, lifting his blindfold to check on your healed form. He approaches and leads you to the door by lazily wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“All done? Thanks, we’ll go,” he cheerfully says, opening the door. As he steps outside with you on his heels, he stops a second and looks back. “Oh and, I know your cigarettes are hidden in the teacher’s room, so throw them away before I burn them myself,” he suddenly says. The door closes before Shoko can answer. You look at him confused.
“How do you know?” He smirks, shrugging like it was nothing.
“I would say it’s around some months later in your timeline that I stumbled upon her cigarettes, when she clearly said she quit smoking,” he explains, while you nod, slightly chuckling to yourself. The both of you walk in the corridor, the sun high in the sky illuminating the walls and casting your shadows on the floor.
“We should go, we can’t afford more people seeing you. What if that makes a time paradox?” you break the short silence. He hums, pensively.
“I thought about it. But to have a paradox, firstly we need to know if the me of this timeline still exists, and to do something by accident that will change the course of time,” he answers, you stop walking, facing him. His arm falls from your shoulders.
“Let’s go to my apartment. You’ll stay there, and I’ll charge my phone so I can contact the other you,” you propose as a plan. His lips stretch with teasing.
“Inviting me over when we’re still not dating in this timeline? Aw, babe, you’re bolder than I thought,” he nudges, leaning his face towards you jokingly. You want to punch his face, but you don’t. Sadly.
“Firstly, you always come to my apartment in this timeline, and secondly, I’m not supposed to know about us dating or whatever!” you exclaim, while he answers by tenderly kissing your cheek, the atmosphere switching into something softer. The blood rushes in your veins.
“Relax, that won’t create a time paradox. I’m just letting you know the inevitable,” he muses, lips lingering on the plump of your face, before kissing the skin again with a loud and obnoxious smack. Thankfully, the corridor is empty.
“Inevitable?” you nudge him away, “yeah, you’re stuck with me guaranteed for the next four years,” he affirms, pinching your cheek playfully and you roll your eyes, hardly being able to control your heart in this strange situation of him openly dating the you of the future, while the you of right now is stuck hiding her feelings.
“Poor me,” you decide to joke instead. He slaps his tongues in his mouth, chanting “you love me.”