Chapter Text
The day that Satoru Gojo was born, the universe shifted on its axis - a new focal point in which the galaxy they lived in orbited around.
The day he presented as an omega, at the ripe age of thirteen, it was like the universe ceased to exist, for how it fell out from underneath him.
From the day he was born, six eyes and limitless and the heir to one of the most powerful clans in the country, he was in danger. A child he might’ve been, but at the time his enemies only saw the threat he would grow to be. Millions of yen were put on his head, the number growing higher the older he became; each year a testament to those who had failed.
Perhaps, if he’d known in advance what his secondary gender would be, he might’ve let one of them take him down.
It would’ve been easier.
~
Satoru was thirteen years old, almost fourteen really, and a late bloomer. He hadn’t been worried. The Gojo family had a long line of alphas before him, so long in fact, it was practically guaranteed he’d be another. For the most part, Satoru was even grateful he hadn’t presented yet; he had a hard enough time with the stimuli his eyes gave him, he didn’t want to deal with scents and pheromones on top of it.
The elders of his clan were already in talks about various engagements, boring political shit that Satoru never cared for. He’d have some dainty, fragile omega picked for him and that would be it. Rare as the other gender was, especially in sorcerer society, it was without question he would be mated to one. He was a Gojo, and at this point, the Gojo. The whole thing bothered him, about as much as any other trivial thing he had to deal with, like itchy clothes and boring classes. If it were up to him, he’d never marry, never have kids, and just play video games and kill curses to his heart's content.
As it was, he couldn’t wait until he was old enough to go to one of the Jujutsu Tech schools. Finally he would be free of his clan's overbearing clutches. He’d always wondered what multi-player games were like, and the idea of actually having friends was appealing.
Not that he’d ever say so. Lonely child he might be, he was still a Gojo.
It was during one of those aforementioned boring classes, on an otherwise normal Tuesday, that Satoru felt the first stirrings of something wrong. He’d woken up that morning covered in sweat, unusual for the autumn season, but not unheard of. He had a tendency to burrito himself in blankets, so he’d shrugged it off and gone about his morning shower.
Hours later, however, in the cool temperatures of the day, Satoru was still sweating. It dampened his clothes, making them cling in uncomfortable places, and by the time his third tutor came and went, Satoru was becoming more and more concerned. The cramps had come next; a bone deep ache through his entire midsection. It had been mild at first, until after lunch time he’d been forced to admit to himself something was actually wrong.
Was he sick? Had he eaten something bad the night before? Satoru’s mind raced trying to figure out some kind of explanation, only coming up empty. He’d rarely gotten sick before - his immune system was strong enough from a life of privilege, and he knew it. He didn’t interact with many people either, to expose himself to any other illnesses.
When he’d been released from his final lessons of the day, he’d raced through the compound to his private quarters, and cocooned himself in his bed. He didn’t know what he’d even say to the clan doctor, if he’d gone, and it was all so much of a hassle anyway. If it was some kind of twenty-four hour bug, he’d ride it out in the privacy of his bedroom, and be done with it.
The hours had dragged by, stomach cramping and skin slick with sweat, fatigue drawing him into a restless sleep.
He’d heard knocks and whispers at his bedroom door, eyes opening in the darkness of his room, and realised he’d slept through dinner. Sitting up felt momentous, and he’d meant to tell them to leave him alone.
Instead, he’d vomited all over himself and the floor, eyes watering at the acrid smell and making him sick all over again.
Alerted by the sounds, his caretakers had forced themselves in, a wall of thick and cloying scents hitting his nose over the stench of bile, and he’d growled before he even knew he could. Teeth bared, red face covered in vomit, snot and tears, Satoru had demanded they all get out of his space or else .
Another cramp had overtaken him before he could act on his threats, and in a moment of pure embarrassment, he’d fainted right then and there, falling into his own sick.
When he’d come to, feverish and sensitive with all of his senses, he’d been in his lounge room, on the couch. Plush cushions beneath his aching body, Satoru had been forced to admit that maybe, he might’ve been wrong not going to the doctor.
Days later, when his symptoms had progressed to extreme nausea, pain in the abdomen, wrists and neck, he truly registered what was happening. This was it. He was presenting. He’d had an entire day to wonder why no one had warned him of how painful it was to become an alpha, before he was corrected.
The feeling of warm slick leaking out of his ass and down his thighs told him the truth.
He hadn’t been warned, because becoming an alpha wasn’t painful.
Presenting as an omega, however, when your primary gender was male…
Satoru released such a large wave of cursed energy at the discovery, that he accidentally exorcised all the curses in a ten kilometre radius of the Gojo compound.
~
Things changed after that. Satoru had always been beautiful; that had been so universally acknowledged and shoved down his throat that it wasn’t even egotistical for him to say anymore. The Earth was round, the grass was green, and he was beautiful. With pale, unblemished skin, large blue eyes, and his snow white hair, he’d garnered attention everywhere he went. The language changed the older he grew, but the message was the same: cute, adorable, pretty, beautiful, handsome. It was natural, the clan had said, for him to be attractive. He was the epitome of everything the clan strived for. Perfection in technique and in body. Satoru was strong, Satoru was powerful. Satoru was going to be a handsome alpha with a gorgeous omega wife, preferably one with a beneficial cursed technique, and they’d produce wonderfully powerful children.
And then it got out that he was an omega, and all the traits that had made him the ‘perfect Gojo alpha’ twisted upon themselves until they were flaws. Satoru was egotistical, Satoru was self absorbed. Satoru was so pretty it would attract the wrong sort of attention. Satoru was too strong, too obnoxious. He was too smart for his own good, and what sort of alpha would want a wife that always corrected them? What sort of clan would want an omega that could beat their strongest alpha with their hands tied. Satoru was the worst sort of omega, because he wasn't supposed to be one.
Between his personality and technique, he was so untouchable it would be social suicide to be caught with him. No alpha worth their salt would ever be seen with a male omega that didn't even know his place.
Simultaneously, because the universe loved to exist in opposites, Satoru was desired.
Omegas were rare, male ones even more so, and the exotic nature of his very existence gained him attention.
Young as he was, he'd presented, which in old fashioned circles, meant he was ready to be used. While the members of his clan ranted endlessly about how difficult it would be to find an advantageous match, in dark corners Satoru heard otherwise.
He was the hot, stubborn brat with the tight little body, and a personality just begging to be fucked into submission. What alpha wouldn't love to be the one to tame the Six Eyes and Limitless user.
The words got tossed around in impolite, and polite circles.
“Someone needs to fuck him till he breaks.”
The first time he’d heard that, he was fourteen and at some elders dumb birthday celebration, and he’d choked on his apple juice. Whether or not the group of alphas knew he’d heard them, he never found out. Regardless,he’d spent the nights after lying awake in bed wondering who else had those sort of intentions.
Everyone, apparently.
He barely left the compound after that, and certainly never slept without his door locked. After his presentation, his tutors were changed - from alphas to betas- and his servants were closely watched. His every move was scrutinised, his scent was checked by the clan doctor weekly to make sure he hadn’t been secretly bonded. His suppressants were prescribed immediately, his diet changed from high protein and carbs to salads and fruits. They weren’t starving him, but they weren’t bulking him up anymore. Even his training changed, and it had taken a screaming match with his father for him to go back to learning martial arts.
If he wanted to leave the house, he needed a beta escort, and he was only allowed to go out for short periods of time. One time, he snuck away from his escort and found his old arcade. He’d played for hours, feeling like himself for the first time since his presentation.
When they’d found him, he’d been locked in his room with guards at his door and windows, for over a week, and his body was examined for any sign of sexual activity.
He'd thrown a fit at that, reminding them he was fourteen , and that they'd never cared about that shit when he was supposed to be an alpha. That if he'd come back smelling like sex, he'd be congratulated for getting his dick wet.
He'd earned a slap in the face from his father for that comment; didn't Satoru know good omegas didn't talk like that? The only reason the hit had connected was because Satoru hadn’t expected his father to hit him.
He didn’t make that mistake again.
After, his lone escort had been fired, and the next time he was allowed out the number had grown to three; and they were all bonded alphas from the clan.
Satoru had still smelt their desire on them, and never asked to go out again. That however, did not mean that he stopped leaving .
The first time he’d snuck out, he used infinity to seal his scent. It had been the middle of the night, after he’d been checked on for the evening, and he’d scaled his bedroom wall. Even that had changed after his presentation. After all, he could escape too easily from the ground floor, and omegas were just so promiscuous. Especially male omegas, with all their ‘manly’ hormones and urges. Especially male omegas as pretty as Satoru.
The fresh air on his face that night had felt magical, even more so once he’d escaped the compound walls. Nimble and strong, it had been simple to get out, and even easier to get back in, once he knew what to look for. The hard part was avoiding all of his keepers, especially if he wanted to get out while things were still open.
Thankfully, Satoru was a fast learner, and he learnt extremely quickly that if he was just the right amount of obnoxious and endearing, he could persuade his tutors to let him finish his work alone. After all, surely they had better things to do than teach him; wasn’t he just going to get married off to the highest bidder eventually? Even better, that he could often finish his work faster than they could assign it. When asked, he put on his best ‘ditzy omega’ look and rambled about how he wanted more time to pick flowers in the garden or some other bullshit.
The adults always ate it up, and provided he was back in his quarters for all the regular check-ins (and really, they should’ve known better than to give him a routine to exploit) they were none the wiser.
The day he finally left for Jujutsu Tech, his father, the clan head, had pulled him aside.
“I’ve arranged for you to be given new suppressants as soon as you get to campus - the school doctor will see you when you arrive.” His father told him, voice stern and body held tight and aloof. He hadn’t been an affectionate parent before he’d presented, but even those little touches had stopped after.
Satoru rolled his eyes. “Aren’t I already on them?” That, or he’d been taking sugar pills for the last year and a half. Satoru was still too young for true heats, and if he had his way, he’d never experience one. He wasn’t surprised, however, that his father didn’t trust him.
His father gave him a stern look. “These ones will be different. Injections every month to make sure you remain stable. I won’t have you running around and getting pregnant just because you meet some alpha runt at school.”
Satoru froze in shock. “Excuse me?” He wasn’t against injections, he’d snuck out to the local library and done his research a lot in the last year. He knew they were more effective, but to have his orientation thrown in his face like that was more than he expected from his father. Clearly, he’d expected too much of the man. “As if I’d want some bastard touching me, let alone kids.”
“You think that now, but all omegas are the same. You’re lucky we’re still letting you leave- as it is we’ve had to postpone any engagements until after you graduate.” His father said it so casually, that it made Satoru’s face flush and his hands clench into fists. His nails drew blood.
“I’m still the exact same as I was before, and I’m still strong enough to rip you apart, Old man. Don’t test me.” Satoru spat out, before spinning on his heels. “I’ll get the damn shots, but if you even try to pull me out of school, I’ll burn this clan to the ground.”
He’d left his father in the dust that day, fuming the entire way to the school, his driver wisely keeping his mouth shut. Satoru was sure the car stunk with his anger by the time he got out, but the beta man didn’t even flinch, and Satoru was grateful.
If the clan, hell, if the world, thought he would just bend over for the first alpha he met, they were wrong. Dreams of friends and video games had faded into the background after his presentation, more real concerns taking their place. He had two goals to achieve at Jujutsu tech, and getting pregnant certainly wasn’t one of them. Getting married to some cocksure alpha right after graduation wasn’t either.
Satoru was going to become the strongest sorcerer the world had ever seen, and then he was going to crush his clan into pieces under his feet, and any others that thought they could make decisions for him. He’d take his damn injections, suffer through the side effects, and perfect his technique until even the air couldn’t touch him unless he let it.
He was an omega, but he was himself first, and like fuck was he going to let some dumb hormones change that. If that meant never finding someone to share his life with, then so be it. He didn’t need an alpha anyway.
He was fucking Satoru Gojo, and no one would ever control him again.
~
He aged. He didn’t mature , but he aged;the years spread out like a tapestry before him. He wanted to unravel it, to return to the life he had before he met Suguru, before he knew the warmth and love he'd been missing.
Before he had it stolen from him, a combination of their society and his own ignorance as the cause. His best friend left him, the closest thing to his alpha left him, and became a mass murderer on the same day.
They'd never gone further than innocent scenting, never even held hands , but in the back of his mind, Satoru had thought… I could do it with him. I could let it go.
Love, Satoru learned, was the worst curse of them all.
He'd become the strongest, and it still hadn’t been enough to save the only person he'd be willing to save.
Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?
He was the strongest, because he'd fucking worked for it. Yes, he'd inherited some of the most powerful techniques known to their kind, but he’d still had to learn to use them. Satoru hadn't spent every god damn day since he was born training and honing and fighting for genetics to steal his thunder.
Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?
Neither, he'd wanted to scream. Both, another part of him cried.
I don't know what you want from me- the smallest part of him admitted.
Instead, he'd stayed silent, and watched as his best friend walked away from him. He held up his hand, readied his deadliest weapon, and faltered.
In front of a god damn KFC of all places.
What's the answer that gets you to stay? His heart had whispered, and he'd lowered his arm.
He really was pathetic.
~
The years passed, summer turning to autumn, turning to winter,turning to spring, turning to summer…
Satoru’s life did not change with it.
Small, unobtrusive changes happened, sure. He graduated - without Suguru- took control of his clan -without Suguru- and became a teacher -without Suguru.
With his clan under his heel, he’d managed to avoid being hitched to anyone , let alone the alphas his family had been lining up for him. It had been a long, drawn out process, and if it wasn't for his technique, he knew he never would've made it.
Sometimes, Satoru was grateful he presented so late- long enough for him to have his technique trained and ready, to be a threat. If they'd known any earlier, six eyes or not, they’d have been just as likely to marry him off, shackle him to a bed, and pray one of the many kids he popped out had his technique and the alpha genes they were looking for.
Each step had all seemed like such massive undertakings, and yet once he completed them, little changed. He was still Satoru Gojo - the strongest - and was still sent out on the daily to exorcise the worst of humanity's curses.
In some ways, it felt as if he'd traded one cage for another. His clan might be dealt with, but the council of elders was not. The higher ups held their society together with duct tape and paperclips, or so it seemed to Satoru. Maybe that was because he was the duct tape and paperclips, but it surely had to be obvious to the others.
The council, made up of the heads of each noble sorcerer clan, were a bunch of old, angry men. Alphas, the lot of them, and he’d long gotten used to their wandering stares. His infinity did a good job of keeping their scents from reaching his nose, but he hadn’t always had the luxury. Years ago it might be, but Satoru still remembered how they'd shamed him with one hand and desired him in the other.
‘Needs to be fucked until he breaks’ floated around his head on the regular, that particular scar never leaving. It didn't help that with his antics, he was sure the sentiment had never changed.
Satoru had grown into his skin as he aged. Tall and lean, he’d never be as bulky as an alpha, but he made up for it with lithe muscle. Satoru had a runner's body, and he'd maintained his habit of martial arts well into his twenties. Despite what he'd otherwise like to project, infinity kept his skin smooth and supple. His lips were never chapped, a rosy omega pink, and his cheeks gained a flush at the slightest exertion.
Covered in his uniform from head to toe, it did little to hide the thickness of his thighs and ass, or the small of his waist. His jacket was custom fit to give him a bulkier torso, and combined with his naturally broad shoulders and height,it helped give him enough of an edge that he could present as an alpha to those that didn't know.
Unfortunately for him, the old, undying assholes that made up the council hadn’t changed since he was born. His twenty-eight years meant nothing to them.
He meant nothing to them, other than a weapon to wield against their enemies, and a leash to their allies.
If they had their way, he'd be chained to some bed, popping out kids for the next generation. One of theirs, he was sure. In his darker thoughts, he imagined they'd probably want to take turns.
Satoru imagined killing them afterwards, infinity down so he could feel their blood on his skin.
Instead, Satoru revelled in the fact that even if they tried, it would never work. Not anymore - Satoru had made sure of that. It was a small comfort to him in the face of their absolute bullshit, and there were days when he pondered if killing them really was such a bad idea in the first place.
The only thing stopping him really, were the students going through Jujutsu Tech. After Suguru, after that mission, the fragility of the future became so clear it was like he'd been living with all of his eyes closed before it. The long line of old, inbred shamen clans had grown weaker and weaker, barring the few impressive techniques that cropped up every now and then.
Old ways die hard, if they died at all - and most days, Satoru wanted to burn it all to the ground. What was the point, he'd thought to himself, in his darkest moments. Non-sorcerers would continue to create curses, Suguru had been right about that.
But it wasn't their society of curse users that had any right to hold themselves higher. Not when their fragile house of cards depended on sacrificing children for its stability.
Satoru had been one of them, and in a way, he still was. A living sacrifice- a willing one, at this point. His techniques meant little, in the vastness of the universe, but if he could use them to help the people coming up behind him?
It would be worth it.
Megumi, Satoru discovered, was worth it.
He'd never liked kids, not really. He'd barely been one, and once he'd presented, he almost bought into the expectation that he should feel some kind of paternal feelings. Nature, however, did little to change his personality. An affront to every omegan stereotype it might be, Satoru disliked most children, and certainly held no desire to give birth to any. Male omegas could get pregnant, the younger they were, the easier they were bred. The years after presentation and womb development in males were the most fertile - the influx of new hormones creating a bed for implantation.
Regular heats would build those up,create more lining, before the enzymes broke down and would be flushed out. They'd rise up again in a faux menstrual cycle, up until around thirty years of age. Infertility came on much earlier than females, especially female omegas.Or so Satoru had read. It had been another reason he so readily agreed to suppressants, why he repressed his heats as best as he could.
It was also the reason the clan had wanted to hold him back from pursuing his education at Jujutsu Tech. Away from the clan, taking suppressants; destroying his chance of passing on his technique in the process, and losing them a political edge.
There were treatments of course, not that Satoru would ever accept them. Besides, after the stunt he'd pulled when he was seventeen, Satoru's not even sure there were treatments that would work for him, and that was how he liked it.
If anything, Megumi and Tsumiki sealed it. They were the closest thing he'd ever have to children, and they were enough.
Surly, suspicious, and ungrateful - Megumi was a handful. The young boy was a carbon copy of his alpha father; a fact that had given Satoru nightmares for weeks. If it wasn't for his personality, Satoru would've said the kid was a clone of his old man.
Tsumiki, on the other hand, was a delight. Soft and kind in all the ways Megumi wasn't- Satoru wasn't- she carried a sense of peace with her wherever she went.
Apples and fresh grass was her scent, and Satoru hadn't been surprised at all when the girl presented at an early age as an omega. Unlike him, she possessed no technique, and such a small amount of cursed energy it took his six eyes to register it. It suited her, the lack of conflict. If she'd had more, Satoru often mused she would've had a healing technique like Shoko’s.
As it was, she could only just see curses, enough to know her little brother wasn't crazy when he spoke of the monsters he saw all around them. While not related by blood, the two looked eerily similar, and if Megumi wasn't so obviously a Zenin, any passerby would assume she was Megumi Fushiguro, the lost ten shadows user.
Satoru had railed against his nature, turned himself inside out to destroy every aspect of his secondary gender that he could. He suppressed his heats, he kept infinity wrapped around him constantly, trapping his scent as close to his body as he could. Any instincts he possessed, he ignored with a passion he normally only exuded for conflict. Where Satoru could, he made sure it was like he had no second gender at all.
Maybe it was seeing that self destruction that led Tsumiki to do the opposite. She used suppressants- of course she did, she was barely eleven when she presented - but other than that?
Tsumiki was proud to be an omega, proud to be an older sister, proud to be kind, and caring, and soft. Tsumiki, unlike Satoru, felt she had the luxury to be both an omega, and herself, and Satoru was as glad for it as he was envious.
Megumi presented not long after, an Alpha like his father, and it stunk the house he bought for the three of them out so badly, he had to sleep at the school for a week.
Somehow, because Satoru was lucky like that, his kids ended up being the two rarest presentations - beta being the most common - and highly desirable because of it. Despite their ages, Satoru had immediately been requested by the council to arrange profiles of the two of them for matchmaking: photos and scent samples included. After all, young as they were they would have immediate buyers.
Over his dead body.
In probably the most omegan moment of his entire life, Satoru had nearly torn the old man who'd spoken apart with his teeth .
The requests stopped for a while after that, the Kamo clan member being treated in hospital for a month after the incident.
Satoru had been twenty-four at the time, and he would've resented the confirmation that he'd accidentally become a parent instead of a guardian, if he didn't care about the kids as much as he did.
Like some flood gates being opened, the eye-opening experience of being almost parental towards the children, soon crossed over into his professional life. Becoming a teacher hadn't been his first thought, but it was one he was glad he pursued. By the time he was dealing with a handful of rowdy teenagers, Satoru thought he'd become quite competent at the whole ‘adult’ thing.
His goofy antics, while frowned upon by literally every person he knew, fostered a sense of comradery among his students. He was their common ground, their common enemy, as much as their teacher.
And then, a month after his twenty-sixth birthday, and barely three weeks before her fifteenth, Tsumiki was cursed. Stuck in a coma for her own safety, rendered unconscious from an unknown curse, Tsumiki reminded Satoru of the old fairy tale, sleeping beauty.
In the original, the omega princess was assaulted in her magical sleep - bonded and made to give birth, only waking at the pains of labour. While the story had been sanitised over the centuries, the premise remained the same; a curse upon a young omega, waking from the bond of an alpha prince.
Satoru still didn't know the cause of Tsumiki’s curse, but if the universe thought he would let anyone near her, let alone an alpha other than Megumi, it had another thing coming.
Over protective he might've been before Tsumiki, Satoru became a new beast entirely.
Every move his students made, he was aware of. Every time they went out of the school grounds, he knew about it. Every residual of cursed energy left on their skin, Satoru analysed. For over a year, he obsessed, and maybe it was the omega in him, the small part he couldn't crush. Whatever it was, Satoru didn't deny it.
Which was probably why he fucked up so bad when Suguru came back, turned his life upside down, and his dumb parade of curses caused havoc all over the city. Focused as he was on protecting his students, on finding the source of Tsumiki’s curse, he’d been blindsided by Suguru’s attack. He should’ve known- his ex-friend had been far too quiet, and not the type to back down. Alpha to his core, Suguru was aggressive in pursuing his ideals and plans, once he had them. Like a dog with a bone, he wouldn’t give them up for anything.
Not even Satoru, and that was an old wound he doubted would ever heal.
He’d always known their feud would end in death. Knowing was different to living , and in the aftermath, Satoru had almost lost himself, their last moments stuck in his mind for weeks.
“You were the only one I thought…” Satoru whispered, his friend’s blood pooling out between them.
Suguru had smiled, but it had been bitter. “Can’t you even curse me a little, Satoru?”
Hand steady, in a way it wasn’t the last time he almost did this, Satoru sighed. “What do you think this is?” He leaned in close, almost close enough to kiss, and let infinity down - let someone scent him for the first time in a decade. “Alpha.”
Suguru stiffened, and maybe it was petty, but Satoru revelled in the way the alpha’s scent soured. After all, Satoru’s untouched scent was a loud reminder of what they could’ve had - what Suguru had thrown away.
“You never…” Suguru said, a strange mix of awe and sadness filling his tone. “Satoru-”
“-Don’t.” Satoru cut off. “You asked for a curse, this is it.”
Suguru stared, before he laughed, bright and wet, his scent flared sharply with it. The smell of trees in the rain coating the air. “ There’s my Satoru. Always winning in the end, huh?”
Satoru closed his eyes. “Only you would call this winning.”
“Do it,” Suguro said. “It was always going to be you.”
Satoru raised his hand again, and did what he failed to do all those years before.
He pretended he didn’t throw up on the pavement afterwards.
Love always was the worst curse of them all.
~
The day Satoru met Itadori Yuuji, he couldn’t help but think: Not again.
The parallels were hard to ignore. A child, burdened with a powerful curse, sentenced to die by his hand.
That, however, was where the similarities ended.
Yuta had been shy, traumatised and introverted. A beta to his core, the boy was understated in every way. Small in stature, small in presence, only his cursed energy gave away the well of power underneath. Everything was his fault, or so he felt, and it came across in his actions. That he had a loose leash on his curse made it even more difficult for the boy to settle into life with anyone - let alone a bunch of sorcerers.
Yuuji, in contrast, was outspoken and energetic. Sure, he was apologetic - his stuttered “Uh, I ate it,’ had been coated in misery. But it hadn’t kept the kid down, bouncing back with a ferocity that Satoru would’ve thought fake, if not for how earnest the kid was. Yuuji had a presence larger than life, and he was so comfortable in his skin even Sukuna couldn't take that away from him.
Because unlike Yuta, Yuuji had an ironclad control over Sukuna. Sukuna, the king of curses, and Yuuji had control. It was astounding just as much as it was concerning , and Satoru wasn’t the only person with eyes on Yuuji, to see what sort of beast he would become.
The council wanted him dead immediately, too scared of what his potential could grow into, and Satoru was sick of their cowardice. He might be their dog, but it was only because he let it happen. His plan wasn’t ready yet - the children weren’t ready yet, and he couldn’t upend their whole lives now. Even so, he put his foot down about Itadori Yuuji. The boy was a vessel, one for the king of curses, and yet he did not succumb to his curse. It was incredible, and an opportunity. The boy would have to die eventually, that was a given, but if he could absorb the curse in its entirety?
It was world changing. Even the cowards that ran their society had to agree with that.
And so the boy became his third student, and that… well. That was where all of Satoru’s problems really began.