One hour stuck in this godforsaken chair and one global catastrophe later, Gojo really,

really

needs a nap. And a drink. Also a cigarette. Doesn 't even have to be in that order. Really, he 's not picky here.

He gives a long winded sigh, wondering if this briefing is going to be over at any point in the next thirty minutes, or if he should just use his teleportation for the umpteenth time this day and disappear to go find a vending machine. He 'll settle for

any

drink at this point, even the non-alcoholic kind. In fact, a highly-caffeinated, overly sweetened vending machine latte sounds perfect right now. He desperately needs the excessive sugar. His reversed-curse technique is working overtime right now. He 's also bored out of his fucking mind.

Gojo genuinely doesn 't even know why he 's still here.

He already gave his statement. They 've interviewed all the heroes who had been on the mission with him to ad nauseam, have cross-examined him multiple times, have pulled Clair in at least seven directions as if the poor woman was at all responsible for him or his decisions, and have even dragged the Otheon ruling party into this. Now they 're all just stuck in this giant conference room arguing about all the things they 've already argued about before.

Otheon doesn 't care about what the WHA thinks. The WHA is ostensibly meant to follow the orders of the UN, who also aren 't particularly displeased over the results. The WHA themselves are crying foul over missed protocol, which is really just a blatant cover for their anger over Gojo ' and by extension Otheon ' stealing all the fame and glory right out from beneath their noses. Everyone in this room already knows that, but they 're letting them throw their weight around anyway.

'He 's not even an actual hero, ' the WHA representative argues, loudly, as Gojo reluctantly tunes back into the conversation as it once again returns to the subject of him.

'He 's a registered hero of Otheon, ' returns the Otheon official, unmoved.

'That 's a farce! Created for your own gains! '

'It 's a perfectly valid legal document, ' the man from Otheon counters. 'He 's a legal and recognized citizen and hero of the country of Otheon and further that, the European Union. Would you like to call into question the validity of a EU notarized document? '

'The World Heroes Association never approved of this, ' the other man spits.

A woman at the far end of the table clears her throat. 'And it 's not under their jurisdiction to do so, Mr. Leonis, ' she interjects, leaning forward; Gojo can barely make out the logo of the UN on the badge pinned to the pocket of her blazer. 'The royal family of Otheon is recognized by the United Nations as the governing authority of that nation. Who they give citizenship to is under their discretion. And the qualifications of their hero program are the same standards as the rest of the EU. If you want to call into question the validity of his license, then you 'll have to call into question the validity of the Union 's entire hero program. '

Mr. Leonis, the WHA representative, turns the color of puce. 'Then as a legally recognized hero, he acted without prior approval from the chain of command. That 's grounds for termination of his license. '

The woman nods satisfactorily. 'That is indeed a valid accusation. What say you, Mr. Baumann? '

Baumann, the head of Otheon 's hero directive, pushes up his glasses. 'There is legal precedent for his actions. We have reason to believe Mr. Gojo acted within the best interests of the mission and the safety of his fellow heroes. An investigation will be launched to judge the necessity of his actions, but I am confident no foul play will be discovered. '

'No foul play? ' Leonis repeats, incensed. 'He murdered hundreds of people across the world! Cities in shambles! Societies in chaos! '

'That 's an over exaggeration, ' Baumann retorts, coolly.

Gojo feels for the guy. He definitely didn 't sign up for this. Poor guy probably woke up this morning thinking he 'd have a regular day at the office, only to be thrown into this madhouse and given the dubious honor of being the one responsible for Gojo 's decisions. Nonetheless, he handles all of Gojo 's chaos with an unflappable, if not resigned competence. With his sharp glasses and slicked back blonde hair, Gojo is fondly reminded of Nanami every time he looks at him.

'All his opponents were armed and actively engaged in assault ' under international law, that 's not murder, that 's self defense, ' Baumann continues. 'That 's also acting in the best interest of the public. The damage done to the cities and injuries to the nearby civilians were all done by Humarise 's weapons and their personnel. '

It 's a legal technicality, but one Gojo is likely to get away with. If this was Japan, a hero would lose their license and be thrown into jail for manslaughter, if not direct homicide. But most of the world isn 't like that, as many governments consider their hero task force part of law enforcement, and in some cases even the military. Since the WHA recognizes the stipulations of all countries in the UN, they have to follow that baseline.

Leonis grits his teeth. 'A massacre of this degree is grounds for war crimes. '

'I will reiterate: Mr. Gojo did not engage with unarmed civilians. Those assailants willingly joined a recognized terrorist group and came at him with weapons and quirks with the intent to kill. If they just so happened to pick a fight with the wrong man, that 's not our problem. '

Gojo looks away, hiding his smirk under the pretense of clearing his throat. That little bite of sarcasm lurking beneath the man 's level tone reminds him so much of his former blonde kouhai, he can 't help but interrupt.

'Are you my acting legal counsel now? ' He asks, joking.

Baumann side eyes him with an uninspired look. 'I 'm your apologist, not your defense lawyer, ' he returns, voice dry.

Gojo grins sharply. He stops leaning back in his chair in a lazy sprawl to rest his elbows on the table and stare the whole room down. They all seize up like rabbits locked under the gaze of a wolf, as if they 'd forgotten the presence of a predator in their midst.

'Look, if any of you can name me any other person on this planet that could have diffused over two dozen bombs scattered across the world with no civilian casualties in under two hours,

alone,

I will personally go and find them and ask them how they would have solved that problem in my stead. If you can 't, then you 're just going to have to accept that my course of action was the best available at the time, given the constraints I was working under. '

This successfully cows the room. The UN lady nods along solemnly; at his side, Baumann sighs and closes his eyes; Clair, on his other side, huffs softly under her breath. The other heroes in the room have nothing to say in response to that, the silence a bit awkward and uncomfortable as they exchange harried looks over the assembled bureaucrats. Even Captain Celebrity ' the highest ranked hero in the room ' just looks discomfited, his earlier bravado replaced with a more solemn and apprehensive air. Leonis looks like he 's about to spontaneously combust, face turning a bit purple.

He claps his hands. 'No takers? ' He makes a show of looking around the conference table one more time. No one meets his eyes. 'Great. Well then, feel free to continue with all the jockeying over who gets to brag that they took down Humarise. I 'm going to get a drink. '

He doesn 't bother waiting for a dismissal, pushing his chair back and sauntering out the door.

The interior of the UN headquarters in Bern is sleek and minimalistic and vaguely rat-maze like, but like a small rodent ferreting about for cheese, Gojo does indeed eventually sniff out an empty break room with vending machines and a carafe of lukewarm coffee sitting on the counter. He helps himself to the rest of it and pours a generous amount of milk and sugar; it 's mediocre at best, but it 'll do the job.

His hands shake slightly as he downs half his cup in one go.

No one is nearby, his Six Eyes tell him so, but he still feels as if he 's on the edge of dangerous territory, somewhere he can 't let his guard down. Adrenaline and cursed energy surge through him, a dangerous cocktail of power and hubris. These people aren 't his friends. The only reason they 're not trying to shuck him in jail is because ' well first of all they 're all logical people and have long since realized no jail could ever hope to hold him, and secondly Otheon is crowning him the hero of this saga while the UN just wants this Humarise business swept under the rug as quickly as possible. They fear and respect his strength. But to them, he 's a live weapon they have no hope of controlling.

There 's only two ways he sees this unfolding. Either they try to keep him on a leash through fear or intimidation ' unlikely, given the fact they 're all still too terrified of him to even look at him, and have no leverage to use against him ' or they try to entice him with offers he can 't resist. From the way Otheon 's treated him so far, he has a feeling they 'll go for the latter. He 's not entirely unopposed. He 'll have to see what kind of terms they offer.

Gojo pushes the sliding door to the balcony open, sprawling across one of the empty armchairs facing the scenic forests surrounding the building.

He drops his cup on the end table at his side, props his feet on the ottoman and digs out his pack of cigarettes.

He doesn't even want to

think

about how Japan will react. The country in general ' and all the individuals he 's close to inside of it. He 's too tired to even fathom the fallout he 'll face when he goes back. Not tired in the physical sense of course; thanks to his reversed-curse technique he 's never felt better, not even a headache or mild soreness to mark an afternoon of exploding various Humarise bases across the world while fighting off armed terrorists. But mentally, he 's starting to approach the point of bleak, manic depression he usually tries to avoid.

Like clockwork, his phone starts to ring.

'Yui-chan! ' He chirps in greeting, with an energy he absolutely does not feel right now. 'How 'd it go with Izu-kun and Shou-kun? How soon until they 're at the altar exchanging vows? '

'... Satoru, ' Yui returns, with a frisson lurking beneath her level tone that bodes ill for him.

He winces. 'Hahaha ' did you see the news? ' He 's sure it 's all over the front page by now.

'I originally stepped out to call you about Midoriya and Todoroki, and then my twitter started going nuts over international 'Dabi sightings ', ' Yui replies, flatly. 'So yes, I just spent the last hour trying to figure out what the hell you were even thinking. '

'I promise, there was a plan involved, ' he says, tiredly.

'Really? Because from what I can see from the TV inside the dorms, it looks like your usual brand of chaos. '

'Okay,

that

part was a bit of a spur of the moment decision, ' Gojo admits. 'But still a calculated one. '

Yui sounds as if she 's barely reigning in her temper. 'I 'm all ears. '

He sighs, staring out into the picturesque tree line. He takes a drag of his cigarette. It 's so quiet, here. The silence buzzes in his ears, rings faintly in distant echoes across his brain. When he gets like this, the roaring silence of his own head is his worst enemy. He 's always been his worst enemy, and now is no exception. Powers that defy logic, reason and even mortality itself ' they 're not meant to be confined into a human shell like this. Pushed to his limits, surpassing even the furthest reaches of his own divinity, he feels both as endless and indeterminable as the universe, and as hollow and empty as a soulless husk.

'I don 't really want to be a villain anymore, ' he reveals, staring into the speckless blue sky.

There 's a long pause from the other end of the line.

'...You have a funny way of going about it. ' Yui snorts.

He chuckles under his breath. 'It looks that way, doesn 't it? But I 'm here for a reason. The King of Otheon wanted to deal with the Humarise problem 'in house ', so to speak. He didn 't want to look weak in front of other countries and he wanted a show of strength to solidify his reign in response to his father 's own lackluster history. But Otheon is a small ' if not blindingly rich ' country and doesn 't have the manpower for an operation like that. And having to grovel to the WHA to request heroes would make him lose face, so he hired me to take care of the problem for him. I agreed, so long as he got me diplomatic status. '

'So

that's

what you 've been doing for the past month? ' She doesn 't sound particularly impressed.

'Boring busy work for the most part, to be honest. Traveling across the world mapping out all their bases, tracing their streams of income, hunting down their main base. It all came in handy in the end though, when it was a bit of a race against the clock to track down all those bombs. '

'All of that destruction ' so it really was part of a WHA operation? '

'More or less, yeah. ' Gojo shrugs, leaning his head back and blowing out smoke rings into the brisk autumn air.

'And this is your plan to stop being a villain? To be a hero instead? '

'I think I 'd rather die, ' he retorts. He 'd meant it in jest, but it comes out more like a declaration. A part of him is joking, but a part of him is really, emphatically, not.

He doesn 't think he has it in him to be that person again. To be the hero holding the world on his shoulders ' to be the sole reason it all falls apart. To once again be standing alone at the end of it all, with all the deaths of every person he 's ever cared for laid at his feet. He honestly thinks he 'd rather be dead, then bear that pain again.

Yui must pick up on it. The silence on her end of the line hovers heavily with things unsaid.

'Satoru ' '

She says, sounding taken aback.

Ah, shit. He hadn 't meant to say it like that. His eyes slip shut as he takes another drag. Even closed, his Six Eyes expand across the building, the hundreds of souls shuttling across hallways, puttering around the water cooler, arguing in the briefing room. With his cursed energy so off-balance after his multiple uses of his reversed-curse technique, it 's impossible to shut it off, to center himself and settle the infinite chaos in his own head.

'Sorry. I didn 't mean that. I 'm just ' so tired, ' he admits, a sliver of his celestial gaze peeking through a fray of white lashes. The sky is a blinding, tender thing above him.

There 's shuffling on the other end of the line. He tries to focus on that, when everything else seems so unbearable. Is she walking somewhere? Heading back home after school, or to wherever she goes when she doesn 't seem to want to go home?

'You should take a nap, if you can, ' she says, carefully.

'Can 't, ' he returns, voice clipped. Not now. Not yet. If he shuts his reversed-curse technique down he 'll collapse like a marionette with its strings cut. That kind of vulnerability right now is unfathomable to him.

'They 're still working it out inside, but I don 't doubt they 'll rule in my favor. The UN is just happy it looks like they 've finally done something about Humarise. Otheon is happy to get all the credit. The WHA is throwing a tantrum about it, but they can 't go against the UN without losing face, ' he says, just to fill the damning silence. 'They 're going to knight me ' isn 't that hilarious? I didn 't even know countries outside of Britain still did that. Otheon does, I guess. I get a fancy sword and title and everything. '

'...What does all this mean for you then, going forward? ' Her voice is quiet and gentle, like she 's worried about spooking him. That 's silly. What does she think he has to fear? Hasn 't he proved to the world now that there 's nothing he can 't do, that there 's nothing he fears?

'I get diplomatic immunity, basically, ' he summarizes, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette as he crosses his legs in front of him. 'Land, citizenship, a get out of jail free card ' I think I made out pretty well for myself on this one, huh? '

She doesn 't say anything for a long moment.

'Does this mean you have to stay in Otheon forever? '

Gojo sighs. 'That depends on Japan, probably. '

Yui sounds nervous as she asks; 'Do you think they 'll fight it? '

'If they're smart, they 'll use it to their advantage, ' he replies, glibly.

The world is shocked, right now. Shaken by the extent of his power. But too many people across the globe have lost too much to Humarise. Frankly the amount of civil unrest, human trafficking, and exploitation of vulnerable populations that group has caused is disturbing ' there 'll be an outcry when it all comes to the surface, when the public realizes how long their governments allowed that rot to fester in their borders, how much dirty money changed hands. They might fear his power but they 'll commend his actions. Otheon is poised to make the best of the situation; despite their sordid history with the terrorist group, they 're going to come out of this smelling like roses since they look like they 're the ones who finally decided to do something about it.

If Japan plays their cards right, they can get in on that glory too. His vendetta against Humarise started in their borders, after all. Tokyo was the only major city not to have a Humarise base, Japan one of the few countries that can truly say their borders are clean of the cult 's influence. And it 's true that 's mostly Gojo 's doing, but there are heroes and precincts that helped that cause. If they claim him instead of condemn him, they 'll look like they were the real first responders to the global crisis.

Then again, the Japanese Hero Commission has some seriously stringent rules. They draw an unyielding line denouncing death of any kind as murder, and courts very rarely side with heroes as law enforcement as a whole does not have a license to kill, as they usually do in other countries. In an occupational field with plenty of collateral damage, that can be a really hard quandary to navigate. Japan doesn 't even execute criminals, no matter how dangerous. Quirk use in general is heavily relegated, especially in regards to what constitutes usage in self-defense. They haven 't had an offensive military campaign in centuries, so there 's no precedent for quirk-based government operatives with licenses to kill. If they were the only decisive party involved in the decision-making process, Gojo would be headed straight for a maximum security prison that would have no hope of holding him.

Gojo snorts. The Commission is not nearly as squeaky clean as they adamantly make themselves out to be. Being in the criminal underworld for so long means he 's heard some

very

interesting rumors.

'... And if they 're not smart? ' She asks, tentatively.

He sighs. 'We 'll cross that bridge when we get to it. '

Just from what little he understands of contemporary domestic foreign policy, he thinks they 'll take this on the chin. Recent tension in the South China Sea means they won 't risk alienating their Western allies. He 's way too fucking tired right now to even think about that though. He 's so far past exhausted he 's flung straight past manic energy and right into apathetic emptiness, and no longer has the capacity to care.

Yui is quiet again. He finishes up his cigarette, and slides another one out of the pack and lights it. Even with the omniscient expanse of his Six Eyes, he can 't interpret her silence, heavy with things unsaid.

'I really didn 't think he had it in him, ' Yui starts, on a totally different tangent. 'It was totally unannounced. Midoriya asked him what his plans were for the weekend and then Todoroki turned the question around. I 'm still trying to wrap my head around it, to be honest. It feels like I 'm missing something here ' '

Gojo sits up straighter, relieved for the distraction from his own spiraling thoughts. 'Straight out of left field huh? Kinda exactly his style. '

'It was very blunt, ' Yui agrees, without missing a beat.

'Well don 't leave me in suspense, ' he whines. 'I need

all

the details. '

'I 'll tell you all about Todoroki 's awkward attempts at flirting if you tell me all about the mission. '

He sighs. He should have expected this masterful manipulation from his favorite drummer. 'Fineee~ ' He complains, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'But I doubt my story will be nearly as interesting. '

//

After dragging Midoriya into explaining his side of the afternoon 's events personally in a desperate attempt to keep Satoru focused on her and not whatever else is currently plaguing him, she leaves an anxiously fretting Midoriya at the school dorms and makes the trek back to her house alone.

She 's not the only one from 1-A that didn 't move into the dorms; Ojiro stayed at home to help his parents with his younger siblings and Koda didn 't want to leave the majority of his veritable barnyard of animals. Yui had borrowed a page from Ojiro 's book and cited her many younger siblings as her need to stay home, but she doubts Eraserhead actually fell for it. There are a couple out of 1-B as well, but overall the dorm program seemed to be successful. She 'll wait and see how many people stay after their first trial semester before she passes judgment on it.

She doesn 't regret adamantly refusing to move.

It 's a pleasant enough place to linger around on campus, but she chafes at the idea of having to get explicit permission for something as simple and thoughtless as running to the mall for errands. As a kid who 'd had free reign over her life for so long, the thought of laboring under that kind of oppressive authority is anathema to her existence. So long as she keeps up her grades, stays out of trouble and comes up with a reasonable alibi, her parents are too busy and exhausted to care what she 's doing.

Yui has no desire to stay in the dorms.

She 's not particularly enthusiastic at the idea of her own house though, either.

So it 's unsurprising then that her feet carry her to the same place she 's been ending up at all month.

The neighborhood is so affluent she sometimes feels like she 'll break out in hives just by entering into it. The guards are all nice enough, but any time she crosses paths with one of the residents she feels the need to cringe away. It still amuses her that Dabi, the most dangerous supervillain in the country (and let 's be realistic, probably the world too) lives in a tidy little community with guard houses posted at all the entries. Well, 'lives in ' is a bit misleading. She 's fairly certain she 's spent more time in his house than he has.

Yui doesn 't even need to bother with the locks. The moron didn 't even lock his front door before he left the goddamn country.

Then again, she thinks hysterically, does the most dangerous man in the world even really

need

to lock his front door?

She drops her bag at the door with a dull thud. She pries her shoes off one by one, leaves them in the empty genkan and pads over to the thermostat on the wall and cranks the heat up as high as it can get. The generator hums to life behind the walls.

The place feels cavernous and empty as she rummages through the fridge for the takeout she 'd left in there the other day. The massive kitchen with its complicated state-of-the-art appliances and pristine steel finishing intimidated her at first, but she 's long since figured out to ignore ninety percent of the dials and knobs and stick to the microwave. The idea that he owns this place is just surreal to her ' sometimes she genuinely forgets he 's an actual adult. He owns property, pays all his bills once a month without incident, probably knows how to hire contractors and landscapers for this place even if he doesn 't bother to do it, has a bank account and a credit score and apparently even a driver 's license. He always acts like such a child, but underneath that nonchalant attitude, all that silliness and frivolity, there 's a shrewd and perceptive adult who 's seen far more in his life than Yui will probably ever know.

She shoves the rest of her half-eaten ramen into the microwave, slumping down against the kitchen island as she watches the bowl spin round in the window.

Yui doesn 't bother to rely on adults. As a general collective they 've proven themselves to be remarkably unreliable, and forever operating under their own agendas. Some of them even mean well, sometimes, but kindness can be fleeting and fickle, and ultimately people have their own priorities and can only ever be counted on to act on their own interests. It was part of the reason she 'd always wanted to be a hero; to be the kind of person other people can rely on, no matter what.

Satoru is different, though.

If Yui texts him to come save her even when he 's off dismantling human experimentation laboratories in an entirely different country, he comes rushing back in an instant. If she wants a new drum set, even when her current one is perfectly serviceable, he buys one in her favorite color. If she needs a place to get away from it all, without hesitation he offers up his address. If she wants to be a hero, he figures out a way to train her even though he 's a wanted villain on opposite ends of the law from her career of choice. If she mentions wanting a strawberry milk tea, one shows up at their next practice.

Usually, she doesn 't even have to ask.

They were in danger in Hosu, and he was there. They were in danger at USJ, and he solved that situation too. He gives off an impression of feckless irresponsibility, of a fickle and capricious guy who can 't be trusted to tie his own shoes, who despises responsibility and refuses commitments of any kind ' in reality, he 's actually proven himself to be the most reliable person she 's ever met. That mercurial and irresponsible personality he 's cultivated so fastidiously for himself is just a lie.

She thinks in the same way she 's scared to rely on others, Satoru is scared to be relied on.

But as it turns out, there are things that scare her more than relying on others.

Her ramen is still spinning in the microwave as she slips her phone out of her pocket, the tremor in her fingers making it difficult to swipe through her password. It takes three shaky attempts before she flicks through her home screen to open her messenger app.

Come back please.

She writes. Her finger hovers over the send button.

The timer on the microwave ticks a relentless tempo in the ringing silence of the deserted house. She didn 't turn any of the lights on, and at this time of year the sky is already drowning the world in dusk. Elongated shadows pitch against the floor in sharp angles. She sinks down to the ground, head resting against her knees.

She 'd panicked, back at the dorms.

Yui never panics. Years of dealing with the twins (both sets) have insulated her from that reactive, instinctual panic that rears up in response to sudden stressful situations. No matter how worried she might be internally, her rational thought kicks in and smothers all that anxiety under the efficiency of logic. But earlier when she heard that emptiness in his voice, a cold, shaky fear had crept up her spine, and all her rational thoughts left her.

She could hear it so clearly, even thousands of miles away. She was losing him. Pieces of the person she knew slipping inexorably through her fingers like unspooling water.

She 'd never heard him sound like that, ever.

That beautiful, ephemeral voice of his had never sounded so vacant and cold before. Chillingly indifferent, burdened under a heavy, soul-crushing exhaustion. Just thinking about the bleak, uncaring way he 'd said,

I would rather die,

drops a pit into her stomach.

She 'd tried to drag him back. Tried to reach him through time and space and the chasm of mortal impermanence, through that immutable barrier that makes him so untouchable. But the void was inescapable, this time. Even the escapades of Todoroki and Midoriya 's hapless flirting couldn 't bridge the gap, couldn 't drag him out of his celestial orbit, back into the confines of his human life.

Her first thought, when she 'd realized her attempt to pull him back hadn 't worked, was to somehow find a way to get in contact with Hawks. Even if she had to haul him out of his agency kicking and screaming. He wasn 't in Fukuoka though, and she didn 't know how to get a hold of him without going through at least three different secretaries. She couldn 't claim to understand what sort of idiotic relationship those two maintained in spite of their chosen professions (and the well-warranted advice of their betters) but she knew it must mean

something

to Satoru, if he put this much effort into it. He never kept his one-night stands around for more than a single tryst, yet Hawks doesn 't seem to be going anywhere.

But thinking on it now ' she doesn 't need Hawks.

She can do it herself.

She hits send.

The microwave dings cheerfully at her. The smell of salt and warm broth wafts into the air. Yui lifts her head, blinking at it. The digital clock glares at her in the suffusive darkness. How did it get so dark so quickly? She really ought to turn on a light.

Her phone buzzes by her side.

Right now?

Lights up across her screen.

She hesitates, fingers hovering over her keyboard.

Yes.

She sends back.

She shuffles on her knees to the microwave, unfolding herself to pry open the door and carefully juggle the piping hot bowl in her hands. She can 't dredge up any kind of appetite right now, though she hasn 't eaten anything since lunch. Even the alluring scent of miso and spices isn 't enough to rouse it, but if she 's going to be waiting here for him for a while she should really try to eat something.

Her ears pop, a flickering jolt of pain that startles her into spilling some broth across her fingers.

It must be scalding hot, but she doesn 't feel it at all.

She knows this feeling, this impression of invisible pressure against the back of her head, some primal, instinctual sense alighting to changes in reality she can 't consciously comprehend. When she whirls around, he 's

right there,

so suddenly and conclusively, and she gasps and drops the bowl. Yui flinches back in shock, bracing for the searing heat of boiling water against her bare legs as the ramen splatters across the kitchen.

When she pries her eyes open, the floor is wet and steaming and the noodles have gotten everywhere, but she doesn 't feel a thing. There 's an arm held out across her, a hand gripping her shoulder and turning her into a broad, familiar chest. Droplets shiver in the air around them, stuck fast in an unrelenting grip. After a beat, they stop trembling in the air and crash to the ground, and it 's like all the sound and color returns to the world, and she remembers how to breathe. She sucks in a heaving, startled breath, craning her neck up to see a pair of celestial eyes peering down at her.

'Satoru, ' she says, blankly, eyes very wide.

//

He doesn 't say anything in response to her, just drags her by the shoulder towards the sink. He flicks the tap on as cold as it can get, and holds her hand out under the spray. Her fingers are a little red, where a few stray droplets had caught her earlier. It doesn 't really hurt, just stings a little bit. But spilling an entire bowl of scalding hot ramen all over herself should definitely have caused excruciating pain. Yet she 's not hurt at all ' she 's not even wet. She hadn 't even realized his quirk could

do

that. Could shift and change to accommodate others. There 's a lot she doesn 't know about his technique, she realizes. There 's a lot she doesn 't know about him, in general.

She tries to comprehend the reality that he 'd most likely just traveled from across the world in the blink of an eye, just for her, and falls well short of it.

She has no idea how long they stand like that, but eventually her fingers start to go numb. Satoru turns the tap off, releasing her wrist. She buries her hand back into the sleeve of her uniform, fingers clenched tightly to the bottom of her jacket.

'S ' Sorry ' ' She whispers, looking down at the mess on the floor.

Satoru just sighs, laying a hand atop her head. 'I 'm the one who should be apologizing, hm? ' He ruffles her hair. 'I really scared you this time, huh. '

He 's not talking about accidentally startling her into dropping her dinner. She bites her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, hands twisting into the hem of her blazer, wrinkling it irreparably.

'Worried, ' she corrects, quiet but steadfast, holding his gaze. 'You worried me. '

She 's seen this look in his eyes, before. That flash of remorse, of something a little too close to guilt or shame for her liking. It always flickers briefly in his eyes whenever he does something he thinks they 'll condemn him for, something too monstrous to be acceptable. But she 's not afraid of him, and never has been. She 's afraid

for

him, pretty frequently these days, but never

of

him.

'Ah ' I 've been doing that quite a bit these days, haven 't I? ' He observes, ruefully.

She doesn 't reply, looking down at the mess seeping into her socks. She doesn 't want to make him feel worse by admitting it aloud, but it 's the truth and they both know it.

Yui takes a step back and looks him over carefully. He really

does

look tired. There 's a tightness at the edge of those shocking eyes that alarms her. He 's always pale, but he looks washed out in the dim light of dusk. The blue of his eyes swallows up all the color in the room, gleaming like polished jewels, brighter than she 's ever seen them; she wonders if it's a side effect of overusing his quirk, or if she 's just imagining it. He 's wearing an outfit she 's never seen before. It looks unusually professional, like an actual hero costume. A tightly fitted turtleneck, the ends of his sleeves tucked into support-grade fingerless gloves; cargo pants cinched against his slim waist with a belt lined with supply packs; heavy duty combat boots. The whole ensemble is his usual all-black look, but unlike his normal 'Dabi ' attire it looks less like a bunch of athleisure he 'd swiped off the floor of his bedroom, and more like it was custom-made by a professional support staff.

He looks like a person she doesn 't recognize. He doesn 't look like himself at all.

'What happened, really? ' She peers up at him, eyes wide.

He doesn 't meet her gaze, shrugging as he looks aside. 'I mean, I told you everything I know earlier. The heroes released their official statements too, if you want to look at those. '

She shakes her head. 'I don 't care about the mission. What happened to

you? '

He blinks. 'Me? Nothing. What do you mean? '

Yui purses her lips. She can 't tell if he 's being intentionally obtuse, or if he truly doesn 't understand.

'Earlier, on the phone ' '

He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. 'Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. It 's just ' been a long day, even for me. '

'No, it 's more than that. Something 's wrong, ' she denies, watching him closely.

'What do you mean? Nothing 's wrong. ' He smiles, a facetious thing full of teeth. 'I mean, look at me! All that action, and not even a scratch. '

Yui gives him a long, level look at that. She makes sure to put as much disappointment into it as possible. Does he really think she 'd fall for that? She knows him better than this.

He sighs again, facsimile smile disappearing. 'I really am fine, Yui-chan. Or I will be. I just need to sleep. '

She absolutely does not believe him, and she makes that very clear in her expression.

Satoru holds his hands out in front of him, spreading his fingers wide. 'No, really, it 's true. I get that I seem a bit, ah, strange right now, but it 's nothing a bit of rest won 't cure. '

'... '

Does he think she 's an idiot? There 's a difference between being tired and a full blown existential meltdown, and Satoru seems to have long passed that point.

'Oh my god, stop looking at me like that, I 'm telling the truth I swear, ' he insists. He sighs again, sagging against the counter as he crosses his arms. 'Look, this is kind of hard to explain, but my technique, it ' well, you know how using your quirk a lot tires you out normally, right? Mine is the opposite. The more I use it, the stronger I get. Physically, I mean. Right now, I 'm stronger than I ever have been before. My techniques are more powerful, my range is far greater, my precision flawless. But, it takes its toll, in its own way. '

She stares at him in mounting horror once she gets what he 's not saying aloud.

'Physically, you said, ' she repeats, slowly.

He nods reluctantly, lips twisted into a fine line.

'So ' mentally ' '

He chuckles weakly. 'Mentally ' my brain feels like a wrung-out dish towel. '

Gojo unwillingly remembers a distant and almost painfully idyllic afternoon under the oppressive summer sun, dragging Shoko and Suguru out into the sweltering heat to have them pelt various office supplies at him until the sky went dark. Shoko had complained he 'd fry his brain with his

Infinity

technique turned on all the time, and he 'd smugly assured her his reversed-curse technique would refresh his brain and body as many times as he needed it to. Well, he 'd been right. A little

too

right. His brain is firing neurons at an unprecedented rate, synapses communicating at lightning speed; his body is a perfect cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol, boosting his energy and reaction speeds; his cellular renewal rate is currently three times the average human 's. Physically, he 's at the peak of human existence.

In his head though, his thoughts spiral into an endless vortex. He feels untethered, unmoored, and unaccountably empty. The inexhaustible expanse of infinity is too great for his mortal shell, tearing him apart at the seams. If he doesn 't recalibrate himself, and soon ' he 's not entirely sure what will happen to him. He 's not keen on finding out.

Yui is frowning up at him. She looks more distressed than he 's ever seen her. He hadn 't meant to do that. But he doesn 't know how to fix it.

'... But you 'll feel better? After you sleep? ' She asks, quietly, looking down at her sleeves.

'Yep. Good as new, promise. ' It might take a day or two at this rate, but natural rest has always fixed him up from the worst of his reversed-curse technique spirals before.

She nods absently, then tugs him out of the kitchen.

He 's floored when she drags him upstairs, a place he hasn 't actually been to basically since he bought the place. It 's a hall with a bunch of bedrooms, a wrap-around opening to the living area below, with a large expanse of windows facing the backyard and a small sitting area at the end. He 's startled to see a full sized futon up there that he most assuredly did not buy. It 's got pillows and blankets and everything.

'Did you buy this? ' He asks, perplexed.

'I have a surprisingly large expendable income these days, ' she returns, wryly, as she shoves him forward.

That 's not really what he 's asking. He 's well aware how much money the band makes these days, even if it 's still a bit of a wild revelation, to think they actually make an income off their music. He should probably feel a little bad about it, considering all their songs are blatant rips from bands from his old world, but mostly he 's just still bewildered at the thought people actually spend money on them. That they have fans that wait outside for hours in the cold for tickets, who stream their songs on repeat and snap up their merch like frenzied sharks whenever they release new stuff.

So he knows Yui has way more money than any kid her age should reasonably have, even if the circumstances of their band 's income are still surreal to him. But why she 'd choose to spend her hard-earned cut of their earnings on buying a bed for a house he doesn 't use is '

'How long have you been staying here? ' He questions, allowing her to push ' him onto the mattress. He 's still a little too flummoxed by the idea of a mattress being here at all to protest.

She shrugs it off. 'Not often. '

It 's such a characteristically evasive answer he chuckles under his breath. That doesn 't answer much. But he noticed the heater has been blessedly cranked to its highest setting, and she 'd been using the kitchen when he 'd warped here, so clearly she stays often enough to know how to use the house properly. It 's for the best, really. He sure as hell wasn 't using it, and it 's better than the place going to waste. He actually finds he likes the idea of it; that she can have this place to herself whenever she just wants to get away from her own life for a bit.

'I don 't care, ' he tells her. 'Stay for as long or as little as you like. '

He flops down onto the futon, deciding he may as well use it if it's here. Yui probably has the right of it; he 's really not much help to anyone the way he is right now, unless they need him to blow up an army or something. And now that he 's already been to Bern, it won 't be nearly as taxing to get back to it whenever he inevitably gets dragged back into that circus of bickering suits. He should probably let poor Baumann know he 'll have to run the show without him for a few days. On second thought, the Nanami-imposter will probably thank him for it. Gojo is more liable to turn those meetings into chaos than facilitate any meaningful conversation.

'Okay, ' she says, then promptly lies down right next to him.

He blinks at her. 'Um. '

'You said to stay as long as I like. '

'In the

house, '

he counters, hysterically. 'Not

in my bed. '

'It 's

my

bed, ' she returns.

'You know what I mean!! '

Instead of replying to his perfectly reasonable objections, she remains stoically unmoved. He stares at her, uncomprehending. Why is it that he 's had to deal with teenage girls through two lifetimes, and yet has never managed to understand what the hell goes on in their heads?

She reaches out and grabs his wrist in a death grip. There 's a brief half-second where he almost forgets to pull down his barrier, her grasping touch reaching nothing but the endless expanse of his Limitless technique. It 's gone in an instant though, her warm fingers clasping around his skin.

'You 're not allowed to disappear, ' she says.

He turns to his side, eyes wide. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He doesn 't know how to respond to that.

'I 'm ' I 'm not, ' he says.

She just tightens her hold.

'Yui-chan, you know I was never in any danger, right? ' He asks, gently. 'I never am, no matter how scary my circumstances might look. '

She doesn 't say anything for a long moment. It 's too dark to make out much of her expression, even with his Six Eyes, but he thinks it's something too close to sorrow for his liking.

'That 's not what I was worried about, ' she mumbles, almost too quietly to hear. Then she shakes her head. 'Just go to sleep already. You look like a zombie. '

He scoffs, rolling onto his back. 'I look fabulous and you know it, ' he mumbles back, but nonetheless closes his eyes.

It 's always uncomfortable, to drag down his

Infinity

and bear his own human vulnerability to the world, but especially so when he 's overwhelmed in cursed-energy like this. Every instinct inside him protests the idea of it, an insidious voice reminding him he doesn 't

really

need to turn it off, that he could live like this forever, perfect and untouchable and beyond the reach of mortal pain and suffering. But Yui 's fingers are still curled around his wrist, right against his heartbeat. He can feel her own pulse where their skin touches, something frantic and unsteady. The idea of scaring her anymore than he already has leaves a sour taste in his mouth, so he dutifully disperses his barrier and unravels the tangled knot of cursed-energy inside him. The moment his reversed-curse technique stops cycling he feels the pounding in his skull where a headache starts to bloom, the ache in his bones and the fatigue building in his muscles crawling back from where he 'd smothered them under his cursed energy.

The implacable tide of exhaustion drags him down into its depths without pause or warning, tearing at his consciousness between one breath and the next.