Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gojo eagerly rocks on his heels, his slender fingers fidgeting in the pockets of his black slacks. The sky is flushed with tones of pink and orange, signaling the summer sun in its last hours before its rest. A soft cool breeze ruffles through the trees that hide Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College from the world, and the smell of pine and cedar tickles Gojo’s sensitive nose. He tries to hold back a sneeze but decides to startle his already nervous and apprehensive colleague, Ichiji, with a loud animated sneeze, his tall and lanky body jumping a few inches off the ground. The slim man’s nervous energy jumps erratically before his long grayish-blue feathers appear and bristle in annoyance. The blue heron beast turns to Gojo and makes a sour face, which makes the latter snicker. 

“Gojo, it seems you’re catching a cold. It's that time of year. Are you sure you don’t want to stay in for the night?” Asks Ichiji forcefully, as he tries to regulate himself and calm his feathers enough to disappear.

“Nah, it’s ok. Just mild allergies. Plus, I have to make wishes come true and grace y’all with my beautiful and stellar presence,” Gojo says cheekily.

Ijichi, ever the responsible yet dull man, adjusts his glasses before looking down the entrance steps that lead into the campus. As if willing that their esteemed guest appear, any second now. Gojo looks up at the dusky sky; unashamedly showing his canines with a wicked grin.

Yaga has yet to appear, which Gojo notes with mild irritation. The older bear beast has been on his ass for weeks, persistently nagging and reminding Gojo that his presence in this upcoming meeting with ‘a very esteemed special grade beast— no, it’s not you nor your weird fanfiction long lost au twin’ —was of the utmost importance. Yaga managed to flood Gojo’s inbox with messages and threats, which Gojo would’ve dismissed if not for the older man threatening to withdraw his decision to let Gojo spice up and reconfigure the school’s curriculum. 

Which, hey, it was Gojo’s goal to change the school’s curriculum and culture. It was a dream that seemed far-fetched and not at all related to what he usually dreams of (although his recurring dream seems to have decided to rival Yaga’s persistence in bothering him). Yet, it is a goal nonetheless that keeps him grounded with a sense of autonomy and drive that helps displace (a tiny bit) the weight of status and responsibilities placed solely on his shoulders.

Gojo long decided to ‘play into the game’ and provide the old heads the illusion that they have any power to keep him under their geriatric thumb. Gojo is used to his conservative minded clan, and occasionally Yaga and the Elders, attempt to use his presence and status as a political bargaining chip for their schemes. He alternates between feeling indifferent and amused at their half baked attempts to keep him reigned in. Gojo even cackles on the occasions he easily manages to exasperate the old guard with his theatrics. 

Yet-

Gojo begrudgingly admits that he feels curious about this so-called ‘esteemed guest’, the reclusive Priest. Yeah, no, he was actually excited to meet the other special grade beastman.

Special grade beasts are rare, and often there aren’t more than a handful of higher grade beasts within a generation. Gojo grew up isolated and protected within the confines of his clan; he is revered yet feared as a divine god that lives among men and beasts. He is the pride of the Gojo family - not only due to his special grade status; he also inherited the highly coveted Six Eyes and Limitless after a four hundred year dry spell within his clan. Fuck , he, Satoru Gojo, is fully aware that he is the only fully realized beast within his clan: a fucking one man show. 

Or at least, Gojo was the pride of the clan up until ten years ago when he decided to leave and be independent from the clan. He was fortunate enough to have found his long distant cousin, Yuuta Okkotsu. The young boy realized his abilities as a special grade fox, and Gojo sensed him. Gojo took Yuta under his wing before his scheming clan caught wind of the younger boy’s existence. Gojo is determined to ensure that his cousin grows into his freest self among his peers. Yuuta will know what it is to grow up within love, family, and community, unlike Gojo himself.

The other special grade is Yuki Tsukumo, a rare Kirin beast. Like Gojo, she is constantly on the move and impossible to control. She is an incredible force of nature, and holds no qualms in showing her true, terrible and powerful nature. While she keeps mostly to herself, Tsukumo occasionally helps the school by providing mentorship for newly realized higher grades. While fun and rule breaking at times, Gojo and Tsukumo’s relationship is more of a working acquaintanceship based on mutual respect than a solid friendship.

While Gojo feels relieved (and admittedly less lonely) in finding Yuuta and later adopting the Fushiguro siblings, he has yet to meet someone he’d consider an equal. Always treated as a detached god, Gojo often denies that he craves to be understood and accepted as the fallible and vulnerable being he knew himself to be despite all the status, influence, power, and wealth afforded to him.

So, yes, Gojo is excitedly curious to meet the Priest, who apparently is a special grade like himself.

The Priest, whose name remains clouded in mystery, is a supposed crow beast that brazenly masquerades behind an obsidian crow mask and Buddhist priest persona. Throughout the countryside and more remote areas of the country, the special grade crow is also referred to as Master Crow or Master Tengu. While crow beastmen are not uncommon, most are lower grades. They’re virtually regular humans; any trace of any beast lineage is recorded in their family history and only seen by a trained high grade. The Priest is a special grade and doesn’t claim to be from any reputable clan or pedigree. He is a virtual nobody. While most higher grades hide their true and fully realized appearance in public, the Priest proudly presents his monstrous black wings much to the ire of beast and human communities. 

Some say the Priest is a con artist. Others claim that he's a cult leader. What is true is that he remains indifferent and elusive to authorities. While not considered a criminal, the Priest largely operates on his own terms and often disregards any pressure to conform, to fold, to submit. He goes against the grain, as if regarding mainstream and political appeal with disdain. Regards the public with detachment. 

The Priest appeared a decade ago traveling through the countryside aiding humans and lesser grade beastmen against malevolent curses and ghosts. He quickly gained a following, and eventually settled in an abandoned temple a few hours north of Tokyo. It seems that the Priest is determined to maintain the privacy gained from him being a societal outlier.  

While he admits he is curious about the other special grade, Gojo has never gone out of his way to meet the Priest. 

While the Priest is reclusive and private, Gojo is the exact opposite. Upon his birth, Gojo Satoru was a name widely known through all levels and reaches of beast society. He was never afforded privacy. With time, he grew confident, at times even reckless, excessive, and rebellious, in his influence. 

Within the past decade, Gojo has stepped out of the conventional yet puppet role of being the head of his clan to become an educator and public figure, much to the chagrin and protest of his clan. He unapologetically takes and shakes up space – always flamboyantly using his influence to protect and guide the next generation, and dismantle the archaic and irrelevant norms and systems that stifle human and beast freedom. He also likes the side perk of getting the old guard riled up. 

Gojo keeps himself busy - always moving and floating to the next assignment, job, project, or snack related adventure. He rarely keeps himself idle, preferring to keep stimulated and active. Which, in a way, also makes him unreachable. Untethered.

If Gojo were to reflect deeply on that, he’d have to accept that he intentionally keeps others at a distance despite his desire to feel intimately understood and connected. Keeping safe , he would often think to himself; which is a weird concept considering that he is ‘the Strongest Beastman of his clan, grade, and generation. He can easily ensure his own safety. That’s how he likes it; always moving, never predictable, never to be stifled and tied down.

Yet—

Satoru Gojo, even awake and conscious behind his blindfold, sees it . His fate dream. The ephemeral presence of a lone black koi searching for its partner. Always present in his day and night dreams. Forever yearning for its other half. Unflaggingly persistent in its pursuit of its beloved.

Gojo can see the koi through his Six Eyes, with his shades or blindfold which mitigates his sensitivity. In his sleep, regardless if it is day or night. Whether he closes his eyes for a micro nap or catching up on thirty-some hours of sleep. Whether he zones out mid conversation, or during the brief moments he closes his eyes when he feels a tension headache coming on. He sees the koi in an endless dance, and finds himself yearning yet again. A warm, slow burn that aches within the core of his soul and his tall lanky body.

Gojo has had this recurring dream of koi ever since he was a young kit. When he was young and naive, still curious about true everlasting love. Of fated partners, and fate dreams. Large blue eyes searching and hoping with wonder, as if the black koi within his inner sight were a clue!  A link - a hint! Perhaps towards his fated partner, his foil, his one and only.

As a young kit, Gojo quickly learned to keep his dream koi to himself. He always had sensitive eyes, and his family were constantly redirecting his wandering gaze. He asked his parents and elder clansmen about the lore of fated partners, if there were prophetic dreams (like his), if there were signs to find them. But, any talk of fated partners were immediately shut down and belittled. 

The Gojo clan, like the other major clans, intentionally disregards the idea of fated partners to advance the clan. Their asinine reasoning , thinks Gojo, is to maintain the purity of their beast heritage and gifts. They choose to marry and mate with other high grades, often perpetuating the myth that members of the Gojo clan don't have soulmates, fated partners, or fate dreams. Even Gojo’s parents weren’t soulmates but a meticulously political arrangement. There was no love and affection within the Gojo clan.

Gojo thought that his fate dream - this hope, longing, yearning - this stupidly outdated idea of soulmates would fade and be abandoned with time. But here he is now - a fully grown and realized special grade fox who is inching closer to entering his thirties without a fate partner - well shit, without any relationship or dalliance.

The fox beastman sighs and rubs the back of his thumb against his temple. Maybe the feeling is actually heartburn from all the cotton candy and strawberry soda that he downed earlier despite Nanami and Ichiji’s protests. And, he might skip taking supplements before he sleeps tonight; they sometimes produce weird and surreal dreams. For the most part, the supplements helped dull the hypervigilance of his Six Eyes eyes so he could sleep a few silent hours of koi-filled dreams. 

Gojo refocuses his inner gaze through his blindfold, focusing on the low hum rustling through the trees. He casually looks through the isolated mountainous area that surrounds the campus. Checking for any signs of anomalies or danger.

But the koi continues to swim in the peripheries of his inner and outer sight.

Gojo impatiently huffs and concentrates on expanding his sight even further. He notices two discreet SUVs gradually moving towards the direction of the school campus. His excitement quickly pushes his dream out of sight and back into the depths of his unconsciousness. The SUVs eventually come to a stop before the front steps of the school. 

Before anyone steps out of the SUVs, the gentle hum of Tengen, the ancient tree god that protects the campus, could be heard in the air. And its grandchildren - small cherub leaflike entities - appear enthusiastically among the trees and bushes, joining Tengen in its chorus to greet their incoming guests. Gojo and Ichiji look at each other in surprise; the tree sprites, who could only be seen by higher grades, usually played among themselves and adventured mischievously throughout the forest that surrounded the campus. It was rare for them to be curious or even approach humans and beasts. Gojo feels his heart beat in tandem with their chorus hum. 

Out of the first SUV comes out Yaga and three high grades. Gojo sees the energetic silhouettes of their respective bear, owl, eagle, and kite forms embracing their bodies. An osprey beastman, a tall bald headed man, comes out of the second SUV and then steps around to open the back passenger door, and gingerly helps two young girls step out. Gojo feels the edges of his mouth fall in surprise. He wasn’t aware that the Priest had or would bring children. He makes out that the girls are twin crow fledglings; one of them shyly embracing a worn out yet lovingly restitched stuffy. They couldn’t be more than four years old. The twins look up the stairs curiously before making towards the other bird beastmen, who fondly greet and fuss over them. 

A tall and dark figure steps out of the SUV, and its large black wings slowly follow behind. The wings shadow its already dark features. Gojo barely makes out its fearsome crow mask and the silhouette of his priestly ensemble. The Priest . 

The Priest nods to the other bird beastmen, who in turn bow in reverence. 

“Welcome to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College. It is a climb up to campus, so please take your time ascending the steps,” gruffs out Yaga with a bow before gesturing the stairs with an extended arm. 

The bird beasts start to follow Yaga as he leads the group towards the stairs. The Priest is a few steps behind, affectionately reaching down to hold the small hands of the twin fledgling girls, who are barely tall enough to reach its hips. The tall crow walks slowly so the girls can each walk comfortably by its side. The girls look up towards it with such open affection and reverence; small smiles and pink cheeks warming their small faces. The osprey walks dutifully behind them; confident and protective in his steps. 

As the group slowly make their way up the stairs, the tree sprites descend from the trees and come out of the dusk shadows of the forest. As if to welcome the group in a higher, vibrant iteration of their song. Ichiji gasps beside Gojo, alarming the white haired beast of the benign presence of the temple sprites who emerge from their little stone houses that decorate the campus’ mountainside. 

“Huh, y’all are coming out too? This Priest must be quite the guy,” muses Gojo out loud, rubbing his chin as he takes in the scene before him. 

Gojo feels a small, soft smile settle on his face as he sees the twin girls enthusiastically wave at the sprites that welcome them. 

“Cute,” coos Gojo. 

Gojo's small smile conflicts with his inner confusion. While Gojo can make out the energetic forms of the other beastmen, he is taken aback that he can’t make out the beast form of the Priest. His dusk dusted wings are the only indications of his high status as a beastman. Gojo has never met another high grade that can mask their energy so efficiently, thus hiding any indication of their lineage, grade status, and true form. 

“Not cute,” mumbles Gojo, somewhat stunned and alarmed.

Yaga and the group finally make it to the top, and the sprites congregate on the steps looking expectantly at the Priest. The Priest and the twin fledglings turn to the sprites and bow in acknowledgement. 

“Thank you for the warm welcome, oh patrons and protectors of this land. I have a request of you,” says a steady low - masculine - voice that echoes from behind its obsidian crow mask.

Gojo feels the voice sink and settle into his skin. He imagines the bitter yet spiced and nutty notes of coffee on the tip of his tongue. The warmth of the Priest’s voice sinking down his chest, warming him with a pleasant buzz beneath his skin. The warm sensation doesn’t clash with his Infinity but more like dances and caresses it.

The Priest reaches inside himself as if to retrieve something deep in his robe, and pulls out bundles of even smaller sprites. The congregation of sprites on the steps rattle their heads and bodies in excitement. 

“I have been tending after your young cousins for quite some time. They lost their home sometime ago in a wildfire. Please look after them,” says the winged beast with another bow of his head.

The smaller sprites tentatively walk towards their older cousins, who rattle and jump enthusiastically before hugging and gingerly encouraging their young cousins to their new home in the forest surrounding the school campus. The twin girls giggle and whisper their goodbyes and well wishes. 

Gojo feels himself chuckle warmly, gaining the attention of the group. “This is quite the sight. I’ve never seen the sprites quite so taken by someone like yourself, Master Crow.”

While he might not be able to see the energetic silhouette of the Priest’s beast form, Gojo can certainly feel the Priest’s eyes assessing him behind his dark crow mask. Huh , Gojo thinks to himself in surprise. Despite being ‘the strongest special grade beastman of his time’, Gojo realizes that the Priest’s crow mask is embedded with beast energy, which protects the Priest’s already enigmatic identity. Interesting, how did Gojo miss that?

Yaga - always the diplomatic and responsible school director - coughs apologetically. “Master Priest, this is Satoru Gojo, one of our esteemed teachers. Beside him is Ichiji Kiyotaka, the assistant director of our school.” 

Gojo holds back an eye roll as he and Ichiji greet the group. Eh, formalities.

The Priest nods his head in recognition. “Thank you, Director Yaga. May I introduce my family. These are my disciples: Manami Suda, Larue, Miguel Oduol, and Toshihisa Negi,” says the crow as he refers to the owl, eagle, osprey, and kite spirits respectively. He then gestures to the twin crow fledglings, “My daughters, Mimiko and Nanako Hasaba.”

There is a brief lull of silence. Gojo, Ichiji, and Yaga stare at the tall crow expectantly. After a beat, Gojo raises a lone white whitebrow (although obscured to the others beneath his black blindfold) when the Priest still doesn’t introduce himself. 

“Ok, lovely. Well, hello family! Nice to meet y’all and such,” Gojo says cheerfully with a clap of his hands. He flashes a charming smile at the group before settling his gaze back on the masked priest. “And, who may you be, oh Master Tall, Dark, and probably Handsome?” 

The bird beasts move into a defensive stance, their beast energies moving in obvious displeasure. Yaga and Ichiji’s face turn a harsh shade of red in response to Gojo’s lack of decorum and respect.  

The Priest’s tall form moves in a whole bodied yet silent chuckle. He tilts his head towards Gojo, long black strands of hair cascading onto his shoulders. “Mr. Gojo, I appreciate your forwardness. However, my name and identity is reserved only for my family. I hope you understand; it's a matter of privacy. Master Crow, Tengu, or Priest will suffice,” responds the crow in his low and enticing voice. 

Gojo pictures a pleasant smile behind the Priest’s mask, and wonders if the Priest’s mouth tastes intoxicatingly like warm spiced coffee or plum wine. His inner eyes follow the crow’s finely toned forearms as they cross and tuck into the long sleeves of his priestly robe. Something warm furls in the bottom of Gojo’s stomach; he barely contains his tails from appearing. He knows they’d be wagging flirtatiously. W ait, what ? pauses Gojo. He then feels Yaga’s eyes burning into him, cautioning him to be on his best behavior. 

Always one to push boundaries, Gojo flashes his own pleasant smile, “I hope with time you’ll warm up to me, Sugar Plum.”

Beast energy erratically spikes from the Priest’s followers as well as Gojo’s colleagues. The Priest, Gojo notes with interest, keeps his energy and wings regulated. 

“Well, Master Priest and companions, thank you for making the long trip. We have prepared an exquisite dinner to accompany our meeting. Please, follow us,” interjects Ichiji quickly, before turning around to walk, pressed and stressed, towards one of the meeting halls.

Gojo waits for most of the group, including the Priest and Yaga, to proceed before him. He falls into step with the osprey beastman. He waits a few paces before turning to the older man. “You must be Miguel Oduol. It’s a privilege to meet a reputable beastman such as yourself, especially as you’ve come a long way from home,” greets Gojo with sugared politeness.

The tall bald headed beastman appraises Gojo with a flat expression before looking after his winged master. “Greetings Mr. Gojo. Yes, it is a long way from my home country. Nonetheless, I’ve spent a large part of my life here in this country. My home is with my family and Master Priest,” states Miguel sincerely. 

Gojo looks at Miguel, looking for any indications of underlying motives and lies. He finds none. Gojo too turns to look straight ahead. 

“This may seem forward, Mr. Oduol,” Gojo says after a beat of silence. “We have a fully realized pupil - another special grade that may need extra support. He’s entering his second year at the top of his class. The school will continue to teach him, but I feel like you may be a far more compatible and suitable mentor for him.” 

Miguel looks at Gojo again - searching, assessing. His gold hoops shine brightly against the setting sun. The Priest seems to be listening but shows no sign of care. “That is forward, Mr. Gojo,” states Miguel. 

Gojo nods in acknowledgment. “I hope to introduce you both at dinner. I’ve heard that you’re an admirably steadfast mentor, especially with weapons. Are you open to taking on new pupils?” 

Miguel shifts his eyes between Gojo and his master. “Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Gojo. However, my current role is assisting the Master Priest.”

Gojo looks among the Priest, Yaga, and Miguel with a brief calculating gaze before he beams another sugary superficial smile. “Of course, Mr. Oduol.”

Gojo wants to laugh hysterically. He has been looking for Oduol for months. Months. Not many have the same if any experience and knowledge in handling divine and cursed weapons such as Oduol. Nanami was the closest, but he kept turning down Gojo’s requests to take on more high grade pupils, “ I already have a ward that you’ve hoisted on me. Go find someone else to help you with your strays.”

Yet, here was Oduol. With the Priest. Gojo pouts in mild irritation. The Priest must be a force to be reckoned with if he had the Miguel Oduol as a loyal disciple and ally. Gojo begrudgingly assesses the crow before him and sees long dark hair settle between dark feathered wings, glistening in highlights of gold and purple. The Priest seems to be as tall as Gojo, with dark wings making him even more commanding of awe and respect, just another detail that throws Gojo off kilter. 

The group eventually arrives and settles into a traditional meeting hall that has a view of one of the many school gardens. A beautiful spread of food laid out before them. Yaga sits on one end of the table, with Ichiji sitting by his right hand side. The Priest sits on the opposite end with his twins settling on either side of him. Gojo and the other high grades settle in the middle. Yuta soon joins them and dutifully greets the guests before taking a seat beside Gojo. 

“Please help yourselves,” says Yaga in a gruffly polite rumble.

Some of the apprehensive energy is relieved as the school staff and their guests tuck into their meals. Gojo notices that the Priest does not remove his mask nor joins them in eating; his hands (broad tan fingers with shortly trimmed nails painted in a deep shade of onyx) gingerly hold a warm cup of tea, as if grounding himself around the warmth emanating from the cup. 

After some time of small talk and eating, the table is cleared by swift attendants who soon lay out an assortment of tea and cookies. Both parties look expectantly at each other. The Priest is the first to break the silence. “Thank you for the meal, but most importantly for receiving us,” his voice, thickly rich and low, echoes throughout the room. 

Yaga nods in recognition. “We have long been waiting for the opportunity to meet and collaborate with you, Master Priest. It was a surprise to hear your call, as you’ve previously declined our invitations.” Gojo perks up and looks at the older man, trying to contain a look of surprise. Wait, so the school made contact with the Priest before?

“Ah, yes, apologies Director Yaga. We were not ready to receive such invitations to collaborate then,” replies the Priest diplomatically. He pauses to bow his head to emphasize his sincere apology. “However, we are here now with hopes to create a mutually beneficial alliance and partnership.” 

The Priest signals Suda, the woman with strong owl energy, who stands up and walks towards Yaga with a folder filled with documents. “As you know, my temple has assisted civilians throughout the country to fend off curses, ghosts, and lesser monsters for quite some time. We are in no way belittling or competing against the work of your school and the other higher grades. If anything, we operate in areas that are often overlooked and under-resourced.” 

Yaga begins looking through the folder, then passes some documents to Ichiji. Gojo feels his hands fidget impatiently, his Six Eyes shifting between his colleagues and the Priest. “Unfortunately, there are still conservative areas that fear and persecute beastmen. We have taken in and trained some high grades. However, we do not have the resources nor infrastructure to adequately train the young ones that have taken refuge with us. Some of them have the potential to become fully realized high grades, but most importantly, they need a safe environment to be nurtured and guided. ”

Yuuta blinks over his cup of tea before turning a sharp, searching gaze at the Priest. “Wait - are you asking the school to take on these kids?”

“You’re quite intuitive,” the Priest responds. He looks meaningfully at Yaga and the school staff. “While we have created a self-sufficient and sustainable town, it is still humble and a far cry from being highly developed. We have a handful of foster families and parents; however, there are young ones that will eventually need specialized training. My family and I are often too busy to adequately supervise and train them.”

Damn, there goes Gojo’s hope that Odoul could take on Yuuta as his pupil. Wait- “You’re asking us to take on new students?” Asks Gojo owlishly. He yelps as he feels a sharp jab against his ribs. He pouts at Yuuta, who gives him a measured look as if to say, ‘ Pay attention, airhead .’

The Priest chuckles softly at their exchange. “In short, yes. We may not have the infrastructure or time, but we certainly have the means to pay for their education as well as room and board when the time comes. Honestly, we can fund the school, if you’re open to it.”

Ichiji then passes the folder of documents towards Gojo, who quickly reads through them. There was information about the high grades that the Priest mentioned, most of them too young to start high school yet. He briefly considers Kugisaki Nobara, a fourteen year old tanuki. Surprisingly, there was information on the twins; Gojo pauses before looking between the twin girls. 

“It says here that you both are fourteen,” states Gojo as he tugs down his blindfold to blink and look pointedly at the girls and the Priest with his Six Eyes. 

The girls smirk and look towards their guardian, who shrugs his shoulders, his dark wings bouncing in tandem. The girls then release their beast energy, shifting to present their true age and appearance, which wasn’t too far off from the small girls they presented as a few seconds ago. Like their guardian, they displayed their dark wings proudly, most likely trained to hide most of their beast energy. They also retain their wings as markers of their beast lineage. They seem like exceptional young women, especially given that they were able to alter their appearance before Gojo.

“We are,” replies Nanako, the light haired twin, with a dry tone. “We’re trying to pull on our guardian’s heartstrings to make him reconsider leaving us here.”

The Priest affectionately pats Nanako on her head. “You both have been tugging on my heartstrings, but you, Mimiko, and Nobara-chan will hopefully start your schooling here. We can’t have you girls continue to terrorize the country folk with your pranks.”

Negi, the kite beast, adds, “Though I’ll miss the stolen watermelon. They taste even sweeter than–” 

Miguel gives him a look. “Don’t encourage them, Negi.”

The kite grins and lifts his hands to placate the other man. The Priest shakes his head before continuing. “I’ll admit your pranks have been…well executed. However, it is getting tiresome dealing with the country folks stalking us to vent and seek retribution for their grievances; plus, you know Granny Nakamura is getting bolder with her hands.”

Larue visibly shudders. Suda pats the blonde’s shoulder in pity. Mimiko squeezes her stuffy, sharing a look with her twin. “Well - that depends if they’ll take us on, right? We don’t know what conditions they’ll ask of you,” replies Nanako boredly before returning to swipe through her smartphone.

“I’m game, though why us? I mean, I get it, we’re not uptight and total squares like Kyoto,” asks Gojo as he leans against the table, swiping at a handful of sugar cookies.

“Well, you’re SG the Science Guy . You make learning fun,” replies Mimiko in a soft voice, looking at Gojo with curious eyes.

Gojo feels himself beam. “Oh, you follow my videos? Thank you! See Yaga, they are fun!” he fires pointedly at the older beastman, making cookie crumbs fly across the table. “They appreciate my work and vision! The old heads are too stuffy, they don’t know anything, nothing, nada, zip, about teaching. Just indoctrination - no real guidance and engagement! You have to let me rework the curriculum!” 

Yaga groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not now, Gojo.”

“Ah, Mr. Gojo, you’re thinking of reworking the curriculum?” asks the Priest. 

Gojo senses the crow’s focused gaze behind its mask. Gojo’s cheeks warm up, and his fox ears and tails pop out excitedly in response to the Priest’s open curiosity. Gojo can’t contain the excitement that wiggles through his body and tails, blue eyes beaming brightly. 

“Yes, like I said, these old heads know nothing about teaching. Really, they are gatekeeping and stifling any access to new ways of thought that can help us progress forward! No, Ichiji, shut it. I don’t give a rat’s ass about what the Elders think! They already know, they’ve been on my ass for who knows how long. It’s why they’ve been cuckolding us of funds and new students for so long. Let them stew in their rancid, swampy, geriatric butt juice!”

Gojo stops his impassioned speech at the sound of husky, deep-bellied laughter. He would’ve gotten whiplash from how hard and fast he turns if it wasn't for the sight and sound before him. The Priest is curling into himself, clutching at his sides in equal parts mirth and pain. Gojo’s tails begin to beat against the floor, working overtime and in sync with his heart. Fuck , Gojo feels his mind cataloging the lovely sound; a part of him already wants to elicit more embodied laughter from the crow. In private, preferably.

The Priest finally is able to breath and sit up straight. He faces Gojo again, and, fuckity fuck fuck , Gojo’s fox ears perk up in eager attention. He finds himself wishing to see behind the crow mask, to see if the crow beastman was looking at him with fondness. Ugh, stupid mask . The Priest slightly tilts his head. “Yuki was right. You’re nothing like the others.”

Gojo feels his head spinning. “Yuki? You know Muscle Tank?”

“Yes, she’s basically our auntie. She introduced us to SG the Science Guy a few years ago,” replies Mimiko, warm and quiet confidence replacing her initial shyness.

“Muscle Tank? That’s—,” pauses the Priest and fails to contain another soft laugh. “That is hilariously on point. You don’t mind if I use it, right?” 

He finds me funny, internally squeals Gojo. That’s it, Gojo was going to make this partnership, working or otherwise, work. Fuck, come back brain cells. Respond. “Don’t mind at all. If anything, use it to your heart's content, although I have to warn you. She’ll come for you with a nasty headlock.”

“Oh, do we know . We are quite familiar with her headlocks,” replies the Priest with a grimace. Negi and Larue groan in agreement. “She’s a good friend. She also helps us now and then with mentoring. Though she has a habit of trying to recruit—“ 

“Recruit is a diplomatic way of calling what she does,” mumbles Larue under his breath.

“—some of our more experienced higher grades. Anyways, Yuki, in her own way, speaks of only praise of you and the school.”

“Are we talking about the same Yuki Tsukumo here?” Asks Yaga, a bit bewildered. 

“As I said, in her own way,” shrugs the Priest in response, painted black nails tapping against his tea cup once again.

Gojo looks down at the documents again, thankful for his ability to read and skim quickly. More funds. New students. The opportunity to rework the curriculum without the involvement of the Elders. Gojo has been itching for systemic change – and it starts with investing in and protecting the new generation of spirits without any sort of barriers. Gojo himself started working on education communication, distributing free and accessible educational videos on social media a few years back. Creating his beloved, chaotically fun web series, SG the Science Guy , that integrated beast knowledge with contemporary science. It developed and accrued a massive following, successfully coming into homes throughout the country through smart devices and screens. 

Plus, it’s been a hassle trying to access the Gojo clan’s treasury despite being the former clan head. Well, it was more like a title than an actual role. The clan elders continuously prevent Gojo from actually using his position. There were times, particularly in his more existential moments, that Gojo considered retiring his clan. It’d make things more efficient and easier, but those old heads were just as stubborn and obstinate in their conservative ways. Seems like stubbornness is a genetic trait , thinks Gojo. Plus, the school was basically blacklisted and sanctioned by the Elders.

This, this could work.

Gojo looks pleading at Yaga and Ichiji, using his blue puppy-eyed look to good effect. The two beastmen groan and roll their eyes before looking at each other in silent conversation. “We do need the money. It’ll help retain teachers and staff. And, we can operate independently from the Elders and HQ,” finally considers Ichiji out loud. 

Yaga levels him a look. “It will also bring us political and administrative hell.”

“Y’all are forgetting that you have me, a living and breathing god. We got this in the bag,” chimes Gojo confidently. 

“We really don’t need anyone further enabling you, Gojo,” mutters Ichiji before finishing his cup of tea.

Gojo lets out a manic cackle. He enthusiastically turns towards the Priest and flashes his canines in a somewhat feral grin, “I’ve been wanting to shake things up.” 

“Are you sure? I’d assume that you’d want to maintain the status quo, considering you’re the head of your prestigious clan and all,” says the Priest carefully.

Gojo rolls his eyes in dramatic effect. “ Former clan head. And, here I thought you were a charming cult leader trying to convert us and bleed us dry.” 

Gojo smirks as he leans towards the dark winged priest, “You surprise me, Sugar Plum. Not the type of sugar that I usually go for, but hey! Anyone who is down to stick it to the Elders is a keeper in my book. Seriously, Sugar Plum, you’re a beast after my own heart!”

The crow looks at Gojo for a silent moment, as if he isn’t sure whether to be stunned or amused by the white-haired beast’s antics.

And that’s when Gojo notices his fate dreams in the periphery of his vision. 

There’s not just lone black koi anymore. Now there’s another, a white koi, joining in in an endless dance. Making figure eights, connecting Gojo and the Priest in an ephemeral current.

The Priest cocks his head to the side, and again, Gojo can feel a dark gaze penetrate through the crow mask. And, oh, Gojo’s eyes immediately zero in on the Priest’s long, tan neck peeking from beneath his mask, long silken dark hair, and dark priestly robes. Gojo feels a wave of thirst and hunger roll through him, quickly drinking in the sight of the crow’s Adam’s Apple move. 

Gojo is familiar with hunger. Hunger for stimulation. Hunger to break out of convention. For freedom. And now, it’s a different and rarer kind of hunger that makes him want to lick and bite and mark. Woah.

The koi dance and swim faster, as if electrified in finally meeting. Desperately chasing each other in hopes of finally catching the other and unifying.

“Be mindful of the impact of your words, Satoru Gojo. I am not the kind person you think I am. Give me an inch, and I’ll devour your heart and more,” says the Priest, his voice low, slow, and dripping with caution. 

Ichiji chokes on his butter cookie. Yaga makes a strained noise, like a bear trying to get out of a trap. Yuta and the other birds look stupefied. The twin girls look between the two special grade beasts, their eyes wide and hands covering their faces in glee. 

Gojo feels a low purr curl and rumble deep in his chest, asking to escape. The layer of Infinity crackles and thins out on top of his skin, as if calling to be retired. Even though Gojo sees the others at the edge of his sight, all he can focus on is holding back his primal impulse to crawl into the Priest’s lap. Really, the dark robed man isn’t even sitting formally; it is scandalously unfair how he sits with his long legs spread out, as if inviting the Gojo in, as if making room for…

Gojo makes a small inappropriate noise in the back of his throat and he feels his cheeks, ears, and neck flush pink. He won’t deny he’s thrilled that the crow is giving as good as Gojo gives, not shying away from Gojo’s bluster and flirting. Gojo is known to be reckless, often disregarding caution in the wind and facing his challenges head on. He leans again against the table, cradling his face between his palms. He is shameless, of course; he knows his eyes are one of his most attractive features. He smiles sweetly, coquettishly fluttering long white lashes that frame his azure eyes. “Oh, Sugar Plum. You make a grown man blush! I’m looking forward to it!” He replies with a wink.

The Priest briefly looks down before looking at Gojo. Huh, who knew a masked crow could express such bashfulness? Gojo finds himself again wanting to sit on the crow’s lap, but this time to take off his mask to see if the Priest’s eyes were as intense as their masked gaze. The dark winged priest lets out a few low chuckles that makes Gojo’s hunger vibrate intensely through his core. And oh, there it is again. Gojo could listen to the Priest’s low chuckles forever. Gojo catalogs how the Priest tucks a long strand of hair behind his ear, before running a long tan finger down to rub on an obsidian gauge thoughtfully. 

Yet, the spell breaks.

“Get a room!” cries out Nanako before taking a picture of a blushing Gojo with her phone. Mimiko giggles beside her twin sister; her pink face hides behind her stuffy. 

Yaga lets out a long insufferable sigh before he crosses his arms and commands the room with his gruff voice. “Thank you, Master Priest, for considering us for this partnership. Let us discuss the finer details of the proposal. Regarding your twins and the other girl, perhaps they can start with the rest of the first years this coming fall.”

Yaga motions for the attendants to bring a fresh, warm round of tea. Gojo covers his eyes with his blindfold once more and tunes out the long, monotonous discussion among Yaga, Ichiji, and the Priest. The fox studies the crow, taking in the silkiness of his long dark hair, how healthy his dark wings looked and glowed with soft highlights of purple and gold, how his Adam’s apple moves as he speaks beneath his crow mask. 

And then, the ephemeral pair of koi appear again. Swimming in the air lazily, creating faint currents of residual energy behind them. Gojo wonders if the Priest also sees the fish in their dance, if Priest himself has the inner sight to see the string of connection between himself and Gojo, if he’s having the same fate dream…

Gojo feels the tender feeling of hope rise with his curiosity, which really is a passive description for the broiling hunger that should probably scare him out of his wits and back into his senses. Then again, although he was extremely gifted, intelligent, and strong, Gojo has his irrational and impulsive moments (such as the countless times he singlehandedly bought out special edition sweets from all the convenience stores located near the school just because he had a sweet craving, much to joy of the storekeepers and Yaga’s irritation - No, this isn’t considered office supplies. No, you won’t be reimbursed! ). 

Yeah, these feelings are new. Fragile. Exciting, yet vulnerable. Especially, the feeling of hope felt wobbly like a newborn deer finding its balance on unsteady legs. Gojo has learned to detach himself from hoping; he’s long learned that he has to fight, yell, and become irrationally stubborn to get the things he wants for himself. For his freedom.

Again, the electric ripple of Infinity becomes even more noticeable on Gojo’s skin, demanding to be recalled. As if his Infinity and skin want to seek respite within the arms and broad shoulders of the crow masked priest. 

So, Gojo does what he usually does, fills himself with sugar cookies hoping to stuff these pesky feelings and dreams of fated bond mates and koi that haunt him.

***

After an hour or so long discussion, Yaga and Ichiji give the group a tour of the campus. While the campus was now lit by moonlight and fireflies, the summer warmth and humidity eased through the early evening. The light buzzing of crickets and cicadas accompany them as they walk through centuries old architecture - which were quiet at this time of night, with no students in sight.

While the birds of prey are seemingly indifferent, the Hasaba twins are particularly excited. They whisper among themselves before asking Yuuta and Gojo questions about the school, about the other students. Gojo feels his mouth twitch into a subtle smile as he observes how Yuuta’s shyness contrasts with the twin girls’ high energy, how Yuuta determinedly tries to answer the numerous questions Nanako is hurling at him. 

Mimiko gives Gojo a meaningful look and nods her head subtly towards her guardian. Gojo doesn’t think twice about taking her cue and finesses his way to walk beside the Priest. He probably needs to check in with the twins, because hold up, he wasn’t expecting them to be his wingwomen . 

Gojo tries to hold back a snort in response to his own humor. He resists the urge to let his ears and tails pop out, and betray his restlessness like they did earlier in the evening. Gojo can be nonchalant. He can be indifferent. He can be charming. 

But, hell , there is something about the Priest ( really though, it seems like it’s everything about him ) that makes Gojo’s nerves want to go haywire. Gojo is grateful for his long legs as he manages to sync his steps with the crow’s strides. He walks in silence for a few beats, studying the crow beastman from the corner of his eye. He watches the moonlight hit and reflect against the Priest’s obsidian mask, the shine of his black gauges, the depth of color in his long dark hair and wings. The Priest makes a striking figure. Gojo almost startles and trips when the other man turns and looks at him considerately.

“Mr. Gojo, I sincerely appreciate your openness and enthusiasm to take on my daughters as your students, and for encouraging your colleagues to consider an alliance and partnership with us,” the crow says eloquently, slightly bowing his head to express his appreciation.

Gojo bashfully raises a hand back to rub the back of his head, quickly tugging at his blindfold. “Hey now, Sugar Plum. You and your family considered us, and asking for help isn’t easy. Especially now with the current climate.”

The Priest’s stare lingers on his face, and Gojo wills a faint blush threatening to creep on his cheeks and ears. Just like how he willed away his fox tails and ears, which keep threatening to pop out like infatuated daisies. Gojo doesn’t know what to do with his hands, which are restless and seek to fidget, pull, and, hell, even throw off his blindfold. He wants to remove all the barriers between his and the Priest’s eyes. See if the Priest’s eyes are heavy, intense, and gravitationally pulling as they feel. See if the Priest is just as unnerved and frazzled by Gojo’s existence and presence. 

“You’re right. It’s not easy to ask for help,” starts the Priest. “It’s a vulnerable position to be in. I still have my doubts despite being the one to propose this alliance.”

The Priest pauses thoughtfully and looks towards the rising moon, as if asking it for guidance to find his next words. He lets out a soft sigh, his feathers of his long dark wings flutter slightly. His voice becomes even lower, softer with a note of sincerity and vulnerability. “You all have been respectful and welcoming. I am not used to such kindness. I thought there’d be more…negotiating, compromising, and brown nosing involved. Perhaps, even rejection as the Temple is not formally recognized by the Elders.”

Gojo nods, finally slipping his restless hands into the pockets of his black slacks. “I get it. The upper crust is conservative, suspicious, biased, and all about preserving obsolete traditions and caste systems, heck they’re even paranoid, borderline fascist at times. I would know.”

The Priest laughs softly and shakes his head incredulously. He turns to look at Gojo again, who holds his steady gaze. The Priest seems to find what he’s searching for in Gojo’s face as he lets out another soft laugh. “You’re beyond what I expected, Mr. Gojo,” he says, voice low and soft. 

Gojo feels himself beam with a wide grin. Yeah, there was no way he could hold back his six tails from materializing anymore. He feels them fluff up to the Priest’s praise, swaying in excitement. The Priest lets out a more audible laugh, and covers his mask as if alarmed and startled by its loudness. Which only makes Gojo’s tails sway enthusiastically faster.

“Hey, no, see here now, we’re rebel special grade buddies. We’re gonna do some revolutionizing and make some changes, I just feel it. In my body! In my core! In my motherfucking tails, and I have six!” Gojo has enough awareness to know how animated and boisterous he is coming across, but all he can see in this intimate bubble of space and time is the Priest. 

Everything around Gojo and the Priest becomes white noise, insignificant in comparison to this one exchange. Which probably means something because Gojo’s Six Eyes are constantly working and hypervigilant, eternally taking everything in. But, no, all Gojo sees and focuses on is the Priest - how the cold moonlight hits his obsidian crow mask, his hair, his wings, his earlobe gauges, his robes, even his neatly trimmed and oiled black nails. 

The fox beast feels the next few words spill out of him - abrupt, edging on desperate. “Please, call me Satoru.”

The Priest stops in his tracks, and so does Gojo. They gaze at each other for what seems like hours. Gojo feels his breath become slow and a bit labored. He has some suspended awareness that his dream koi are back and are swimming energetically around him and the Priest. Gojo barely notes how he raises his hand towards the Priest, how Infinity recedes quietly into his core. 

Gojo’s breath catches, as if he has been touched by warm oil spilling out from a summer lamp. All he can focus on is the Priest’s crow mask, wishing yet again to remove the barrier to really have a good look of the Priest’s eyes. He gains some awareness that the warm sensation of spilt-over-oil is actually coming from a firm and somewhat calloused grip. He looks down and sees the Priest’s long tan fingers wrap around his hand. His Infinity has retreated, and oh , it’s been a long time since Gojo has felt physical touch. It’s been more than a decade, and he’s surprised he’s not immediately overwhelmed and overstimulated. While both their hands are long, the Priest’s fingers are slightly thicker than his. Gojo feels his mouth go dry before looking up again at the Priest. Even behind his blindfold, his blue eyes are searching, asking, pleading, you feel this too?

“Thank you, Satoru, ” says the Priest just as softly, and fuck , Satoru longs to see the crow’s lips slowly enunciate his name again. 

And, yet for a second time, the intimate spell breaks between the fox and the crow. The teacher and the priest. 

Yaga coughs, reorienting the pair of special grades back to reality. Satoru realizes that the group has finally reached the top of the front entrance stairs, indicating that this is where the two parties part ways. He still holds onto the Priest’s hand, the point of contact between their intertwined hands warm and pulsing. Satoru briefly notices the others bidding their goodbyes, but he can’t seem to get his body to respond. He holds onto the Priest’s hand like a lifeline. 

The Priest squeezes Satoru’s hand. Once, twice, thrice before letting go. He bows and bids his farewell before turning to take his twins' hands. Satoru doesn’t move; he is simply arrested in his body as he watches the Priest and his party descend down the steps, then getting into their waiting SUVs before pulling out and driving into the night.

Yuuta nudges his elbow, which finally breaks Satoru from his trance. Satoru feels Infinity envelop him once more, flexing over as a protective layer on his skin. Both of his older colleagues were long gone. “Fuck, I forgot to ask for his number,” coughs out Satoru.

Yuuta laughs and shakes his head in response. He waves his smartphone in front of his teacher's spaced out face, which immediately grabs the attention of the older fox. Satoru glimpses a candid photo of himself and the Priest talking to each other. “Oh, don’t worry Gojo. I exchanged contacts with Nanako and Mimiko.”

Saroru makes a grab for Yuuta’s phone, who pulls it back reflexively. “What do you mean? Don’t leave your favorite cousin, who happens to be your not-dad AND teacher, hanging!”

Yuuta laughs before he backs away to transform into his full fox form and runs away from the older man. Although he’s still trying to reel back from being disoriented, Satoru isn’t irritated. No, he feels the giddiness of excitement and hope run through his body and core. He grins a bright toothy smile, and really it should ache how wide he is smiling. He just doesn’t care. Satoru laughs and calls out for Yuuta before turning into his full fox form and chasing after the younger fox back into the depths of the school campus.

Chapter Text

A fist swiftly knocks Satoru back into his senses and the present. Even though Infinity protects him, Satoru cries out and rubs his temple with an exaggerated pout. His fox ears appear and droop downwards. “What was that for?”

Megumi levels him a flat look and crosses his arms. Tsukimi giggles beside her younger brother before softly pointing out, “Gojo, you’re letting your crepe melt.”

Satoru looks down, and, sure enough, his monstrous deluxe ice cream crepe is now a lukewarm and soggy pile of sugary mush. He blinks and pokes at it with his spoon. “This is the fifth dessert in two days that you haven’t finished, Gojo. Are you ok?” asks Tsukimi.

Megumi raises a lone eyebrow as he continues to dryly assess the older man. “He’s been extra spacey lately. He’s always spacey, but this is a new low, even for him. It’s kind of sad.”

“Yeah, he’s usually hard to get a hold of. He’s always been somewhat manic but it’s because he’s busy and scattered with his revolving projects and gigs. But, now I always find him just floating there, giggling at his phone,” chimes Yuuta, crossing his arms in mild concern.

So, this is how Satoru finds himself mid summer afternoon: being ganged up on by his three adopted teens at his favorite crepe shop. “I am right here, y’know. C’mon, give your not-dad figure some slack. What is this? Bully your not-dad day?” Satoru retorts in high falsetto.

Tsukimi giggles while Yuuta smiles sheepishly. “You haven't been acting like your usual self, Gojo. We’re kind of worried,” responds Tsukimi.

“Yeah, since you’ve started texting that con-Priest guy,” mutters Megumi as he leans back against his seat.

Satoru gives Megumi a startled look, “Hey now–”

“Ohhhh, I’ve missed that part! So, you've been talking to the Priest?” Tsukimi, Satoru’s now formerly-beloved-adopted-daughter, asks with her eyes twinkling with curiosity and mischief. “How’s that been going?”

Satoru smiles at Tsukimi, pushing his forlorn crepe to the side. “Yuuta created a group chat with the Priest’s daughters.”

“Yeah, I’ve been texting Mimiko and Nanako,” chimes Yuuta. “We’ve been trying to figure out plans to hang out before school starts.”

“Oh! Count me in,” replies Tsukimi excitedly. She softly bumps her younger brother with her shoulder. “You in, Megumi?”

The younger teen gives a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah, though who's gonna look after this one? Think we can ask the Priest to dogsit him?”

“Or, more like play house with him,” says Tsukimi slyly.

Megumi and Tsukimi grin at each other before bursting into a fit of snickers, much to their guardian’s expense. Satoru is uncharacteristically quiet as he pokes again at his sad mushy crepe.

Satoru thinks back to the group chat that was created by Yuuta and his twins a few weeks ago. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he saved the candid photos of himself and the Priest that were taken that one night, as well as the subsequent candids of the Priest since then by the Hasaba twins. Satoru wasn’t nervous (nope, nuh uh, he’s the strongest and most confident special grade beast), unsure whether or not he should message the Priest in a separate thread. Before possibly spending several restless nights trying to hype himself up to send one innocuous text, Satoru stuffed his face with a fistful of strawberry candies and sent the masked crow a message.

Satoru stared at his phone for what felt like hours. Time moved painfully slow, and whatever shenanigans that usually kept him occupied and stimulated didn’t help him feel distracted. He may have gone through several bags of his special edition Kit Kat boxes while he scrolled through his social feeds, eyes and ears remaining vigilant for a notification from the Priest.

While Satoru is an avid texter, always fiddling with his phone, nothing had prepared him for the fact that the Priest…prefers to send audio messages.

The audio messages were short at first, but gradually the Priest’s responses became lengthier. His voice was consistently low, soft, and evenly paced in response to Satoru’s erratic texts, selfies, and meme dumps. And, wow, the Priest’s voice, which was already one of Satoru’s favorite things in this world, was an experience in itself. It sent chills and goosebumps underneath and along his skin, and made Satoru’s toes curl with want. Satoru imagines that the Priest’s voice, his mouth, would taste bitter, perhaps smokey and spiced. Satoru understands how the Priest has gained such a dedicated following because, damn, that voice could soothe babies, start and stop wars, heck, ensure either the safety or demise of the world. The white fox would fervently listen to the Priest’s audio messages whenever he was alone, thoughts constantly drifting back towards the masked priest and how his voice, touch, and presence could easily arrest and unravel Satoru in pure desire during the most private and unguarded hours.

The white fox recalls that bird beasts tend to have beautiful voices and court their partners with songs. He wonders if crows also have songs. Satoru may or may have not lost himself in a daydream or two of the Priest wrapping the fox in his arms, black wings curtaining around them in private cover, crooning sweet nothings into Satoru’s sensitive ears.

Yeah, Satoru wants to play house with the Priest alright. And more…

“Oh, we’ve lost him again. Do you think he sees his fate dream when he zones out like that?” muses Tsukimi. “Y’all high grades are lucky. You know you’re connected to someone.”

“Or have a harem, like Yuuta,” comments Megumi.

“Excuse me! It’s not a harem,” retorts Yuuta offendedly. “You’re just mad that your fated partner is attracted to tall women with big butts, not lanky porcupined twinks like you.”

Huh, Satoru smells bloodlust. Tsukimi holds back her spiked haired brother from jumping across the table while Satoru pulls the other by the scruff of his high collared jacket. The two dark haired teens bare their canine teeth at each other, their respective wolf and fox features appearing briefly. “Alright, heel pups. Don’t make me bring out the spray bottle,” warns Satoru sternly.

The two teen boys settle down, but ignore each other out of spite. Their beast energy runs statically in the air. Satoru makes a mental note to play The Fox and the Hound for family movie night later.

“Tsukimi, my favorite child,” starts Satoru in a sugary tone. He magnanimously ignores Megumi accusing him of blatant favoritism. “What’s this talk of fate dreams?”

“Oh, I’m just curious. Even after Yuuta and Megumi found theirs, you never mentioned if you believe in soulmates and fate dreams?” asked Tsukimi.

One of the things that Satoru has grown to love about his adopted daughter is her unflagging curiosity and gentle nature. She’s been an incredibly patient, calm, and intelligent force these past ten years under his care; never one to feel bothered or self conscious about being a normal human girl. She never let herself be left out or behind, always confidently waking in step with her high grade adoptive guardian and brothers. Tsukimi wields her softness as a strength; her empathy and good natured humor always grounding Satoru and her teen brothers.

But here, at this moment, Tsukimi’s intuition is sharp. Her underlying questions cut deep into Satoru’s usually well guarded core. Do you have a soulmate? A fate partner? Do you dream of them?

It’s times like these that Satoru finds it incredulous that Tsukimi and Megumi were only step-siblings before he took them in. If Megumi lives up to the stoic lone wolf stereotype with embodied grace, Tsukimi deliberately shows her fierce bite whenever she exercises her sharp wit, intellect, and intuition. Maybe she’s been hanging out with Shoko a bit too much, thinks Satoru. Even now, Tsukimi’s eyes are gleaming as if she is stalking a fresh scent, excited for a prospective hunt.

“Oh Tsukimi, don’t let these pups egg you on,” starts Satoru, lanky hands waving away at the teen boys. “You might not have fate dreams, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find your person. It is rare to have fate dreams; and, as we’ve seen with Yuuta and Megumi, there are even exceptions amongst beasts. There really is no clear explanation for how all this works.”

Tsukimi shrugs in response as Satoru leans over the table to pat her head affectionately. “Whoever you end up choosing,” he continues, “they better pay quite the dowry to be your partner. I mean monstrous monthly shipments of sugar. Oh, and of course, treat you right, but, in all honesty, I’m more afraid for their wellbeing if they catch your bad side. Plus, you have us and Auntie Shoko to ruffle anyone up.”

Ah yeah, Satoru is feeling all wise and parental. Totally not thinking about his own fate dreams about koi. And fated bondmates. Soulmates. Nope. Special grade father technique: the fine art of redirecting.

“Gojo, cut the crap. We’re old enough to talk about the elephant in the room,” interjects Megumi, his sharp eyes and intuition matching that of his older sister’s. “In all this time you’ve been taking care of us, you’ve never dated or shown interest in others.”

“You flirt shamelessly but performatively. I thought you didn’t date because you were taking care of us and lost in your work,” adds Yuuta.

“Shoko says you’re the biggest anti-social extrovert. You schmooze, but it’s all smoke. So, what’s up?” joins Tsukimi with a grin, resting her head on her hands eagerly. “You can’t blame us for wanting the scoop on our not-dad’s love life?”

Satoru’s ears flush pink from the brunt force of having his three adopted teenagers stare him down expectantly. His mouth is uncharacteristically dry and chalky. He could easily teleport out of the situation, but the three highly intelligent bullies happen to be his legal and parental responsibility, so he wouldn’t be able to avoid them for long.

“Y’all are totally ganging up on your really hot and available not-dad,” sniffs Satoru.

He sighs in resignation and crosses his arms. Maybe, he should show some vulnerability with his kids. Maybe, it is time to not keep this tentative hope to himself.

“I see my fate dream, always been able to since I was a kid,” starts Satoru with a small bittersweet smile. “I don’t bring it up not because I don’t believe in the idea; just that the clan had, and still has, other priorities. They marry and mate to preserve the clan’s pedigree and power. Soulmates, fate partners - having one is vulnerability. Having one is seen as a weakness. It’s believed that the Gojo don’t have fate mates.”

The three teens look at him with a mix of shock and sadness. They can be a thoughtful, quiet group most of the time; they’ve long been a soothing salve to his blistering energy. I’m lucky to have them as my family, thinks Satoru. He lingers on his past and present determination to let them live an ordinary life as possible, to let them fall into the romanticism of soulmates and fate dreams as any lovesick teen should.

“And, since leaving the clan, my life has been pretty full. It hasn’t been a priority to make sense of my fate dream or follow fate instinct,” adds Satoru with a vague wave of his hand.

The three dark haired teens look amongst each other to engage in their own telepathetic conversation, before looking back at him. Satoru raises an eyebrow. “So what has the council concluded?”

“So, you have a soulmate out there?” inquires Megumi.

“Yup?”

“And you haven’t done anything about it?” asks Yuuta incredulously.

“Nope.”

“And, you’re attracted to the Priest because you want to get laid or because he may be your fate mate?” asks Tsukimi with a knowing smirk.

“Young lady, that is absolutely crass,” responds Satoru dramatically. “And also, it’s called nunya business.”

“Gojo,” warns Megumi with a flex of his fist, always ready to choose violence despite his stoic demeanor.

Satoru raises his hands to placate the hair-triggered teen. “Ok, I’m pretty sure he’s my fated partner.”

It’s both. Both, both are good, thinks Gojo and that is something he’ll keep privately to himself.

“So, what now? Are you going to—what’s that old timey word—court him or something?” Asks Yuuta expectantly.

Satoru feels a bit bashful, which is a rare occurrence. The tips of his ears turn hot as he rubs the back of his head. All the hope, desperation, and yearning he’s been holding back, trying to simmer down…

…it all wants to come up to a boil. Satoru wants to fall in love hard, boldly and unapologetically. Intensely. His instinctual desire to be enraptured, unified, bounded and bonded to another.

These past ten or so years away from the clan, Satoru has been learning how to fall in love with life, teaching, and protecting. Trying new things. Compensating on all the opportunities he missed growing up in the secluded Gojo estate, chasing down different projects and highs to keep stimulated, occupied.

While Satoru has been aesthetically attracted to others, there hasn’t been any urgent desire to pursue them in the past. That is until he met the Priest…and his Infinity intuitively retracted when they held hands.

Satoru has been holding back in his love life. He’s been tentative and slightly unsure in making and maintaining new relationships in general, despite having broken out of the clan’s iron grasp. He’s been called awkward, brazen, and abrasive countless times.

The white haired man looks up to see the warm and encouraging gaze of his three teenage kids, and feels all his insecurities and doubts melt away.

“It’s not like you to hold yourself back, Gojo. Don’t tell me you’re scared,” smirks Megumi as he swiftly kicks Satoru on the shins beneath the table.

Tsukimi punches her younger brother playfully before turning back to Satoru. “What he means to say is that we got your back and our enthusiastic blessing to go for it, not that you need it.”

“Sweep him off his wings, Gojo. You got this,” adds Yuuta with a small, warm smile.

Before Satoru sets off with new resolve and determination, he makes puppy eyes and jumps his teenage kids in a group hug, much to Megumi’s protests. “Aight, kids. Imma wife him up,” he coos in an overly sugary tone. “Y’all will have a beautifully enigmatic and sultry not-mother figure, and hopefully more siblings. I just can’t wait!”

The white haired fox squeezes and nuzzles them harder as they giggle, or in Megumi’s case squawks, in response. His fluffy six fox tails affectionately surround them.

Yeah, Satoru definitely loves his kids, his kits.

The fox was thrusted into parenthood unexpectedly early, but, like with many things post-clan life, he embraced it with curiosity, resolve, and playfulness. His adopted kits helped him maintain his newfound independence. Well shit, if Satoru had to go deep, they helped get his humanity back from the clan and get off his detached pedestal that was actually a gilded cage, a prison.

“Yeah, I might have adopted y’all, and this may sound corny, good thing y’all love cheesy corn, but you three chose and saved me,” Satoru murmurs softly against their heads.

“Ughhhh, don’t get soft on us, old man,” groans Megumi despondently, who weakly protests and pushes against the older man.

Satoru ignores his spikey haired pup, and lets out a proud and pleased purr.

Megumi, Tsukimi, and Yuuta continuously teach Satoru what love is and how to love, and times like these, he is grateful that he has a huge sugar tooth and doesn’t get nauseated by his own sugary reflection and insight. He may be a godly beast but the three dark haired teens definitely keep him humble.

***

And, a few days later, Satoru finds himself in front of the gated entrance of the Priest’s temple residence. He’s concerned and (somewhat) guilty for teleporting right in front of the gate attendant. He rarely feels guilt and shame, but today is one of those days he is confronted with it. The startled attendant looks like he’s seconds away from keeling over from a stressed induced heart attack.

The white fox takes out his go-to emotional support watermelon flavored lollipop from his sling bag and sheepishly offers it to the now grayish-purple looking gate attendant, who’s clutching onto his chest tightly. Fuck, Satoru needs go be more considerate about how he teleports. All he can really do is awkwardly continue offering the lollipop and gingerly rub the older man’s back. They’re soon met by Mimiko and Nanako, who then quickly check on the gate attendant before dismissing him towards the temple to rest.

“Hey! Thanks again for pin dropping the location. Also, sorry for spooking one of your peoples,” Satoru greets with a sheepish smile. “Yuuta and Tsukimi asked me to give you these.”

The fox hands the twin girls a tote bag full of popular young adult novels. The girls take the books excitedly before taking a few steps back to appraise his appearance. Satoru doesn’t feel self-conscious, never ever. It’s simply not part of his wheelhouse. Maybe he’s conceited and vain, but he’s pretty confident in his looks. However, there’s just something about being evaluated by critical teen gazes that makes him want to tuck his fox tails between his legs and fidget.

“Thanks for the books. Though, you can’t really expect to seduce the Master while wearing a blindfold,” replies Nanako monotonously as she continues to eye him with a bored look. “Those pants don't seem to breathe and are probably cutting off your blood circulation. You’re not gonna stand and survive this heat for long. Much less seduce the Master.”

Satoru barely manages to swallow an indignant sound. “Courting! Not seducing. We are keeping this rated PG. At most PG-13. I’m talking about verified wholesome content!” He retorts. “Also these pants are high end, mind you!”

The light haired teen gives him an unimpressed look. Satoru sighs and looks himself over once more. Ok, maybe his black slacks were a bit too tight, but his ass was one of his biggest and most attractive assets. He looks back up to the girls, and Nanako’s vibe is just telling. You’re coming off too desperate and thirsty, old man.

Mimiko covers her laugh with her stuffy. “Nanako, be nice,” she gently reprimands her twin. “Follow us, Mr. Gojo. We’ll go find the Master soon, but we need to do something about that face and outfit of yours.”

The fox squawks incredulously at the twins. Really, what’s with teens bullying him lately?! “What’s wrong with how I look?!”

The twins ignore Satoru and start walking towards the temple residence, which is deep in the mountainside, with trees shading and cooling it from the blistering summer sun that sits high in the noon sky. Satoru remembers hearing that the Priest’s residence was an abandoned Buddhist temple, but there is no indication of disrepair. It is seemingly well-restored and maintained, and its new tenants have amplified its original traditional design. Various magnificent dragon sculptures are situated protectively at its entrance. The twins guide Satoru through a lush lotus garden, and the buzzing of cicadas strums loudly in the air. Satoru notices plant and flower sprites peeking at them curiously, and some of the bolder ones trail alongside them and tug on the bottom of the twins’ summer kimonos.

“Yuuta mentioned that while the Gojo clan is known to have fox beasts, they don’t follow fate instincts. It might be a good idea to give you a crash course on how crows court,” states Mimiko softly.

“Not that the Master follows fate or crow instincts, either,” adds Nanako flatly. “Don’t worry though, I think we can find you something to wear that emphasizes your waist and ass without giving desperate and dehydrated.”

Satoru sniffs audibly at Nanako’s comment and pouts. He follows quietly behind them for a few more paces. “Y’all sure are taking this in stride. Why are you helping me knowing that I’m from the Gojo clan? You sure you’re ok with me courting your not-dad?” He asks, a part of him is curious while a small part of him seeks reassurance.

If all goes well, the crow twins would be his future step-daughters. And if he learned anything from his time with Tsukimi, and in extension Shoko, who's basically his chosen sister and best friend, is that Satoru shouldn’t take their feedback lightly.

Mimiko and Nanako stop in their tracks, with the light haired teen picking up a few sprites hanging on her kimono. The darker haired twin gazes at him with a soft look and smiles. “We’ve been with our Master for about a decade,” starts Mimiko. “We’re familiar with all of his expressions, and he’s well-practiced in charming others. Those who don’t know him or want to slander him say he’s silver tongued and superficial, but he genuinely has a way of guiding others. We know when he's himself and when he is the Master Priest.”

“We know the Master. He saves his laughs and smiles for his family. But, we’ve never seen him laugh and be soft as he has been with you these past few weeks,” adds Nanako with a sharp look towards the white haired fox.

Satoru feels his face soften and fall in surprise. His heart thumps relentlessly inside his ears, and said ears grow hot with a blush. Yeah, that seems like a green light from the Hasaba twins. He feels and suppresses the urge to laugh hysterically. Really, a group of teens is determined to help him, Satoru, one of the strongest beasts in Japan, woo his crush.

“Ok, y’all know Sugar Plum best. Thank you, I’m under your care and guidance,” says the white haired fox with a rare sincere voice and a slight bow.

The twin crows smile bashfully, both of them trying to hide their light blushes. “Alright old man, the Master will be back soon from his mission. Let’s get you ready,” says Nanako, as she softly nudges the older man along into the temple residence.

***

Satoru finds himself sitting outside a small tea room in a light blue summer yukata and a navy blue obi on his waist. While the white haired man tends to avoid traditional wear as it reminds him of his time at the Gojo estate, the lightness of the yukata was comfortable, especially in this late afternoon humid heat. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but the yukata carried a familiar scent of light spice and musk. The crow twins even went through the trouble of cleaning up his undercut, and graciously gave him a pair of dark tinted sunglasses to wear. “It’d be a shame to cover those baby blues with that blindfold,” teased Nanako with a slight smirk.

The twins left Satoru outside the tea room with a cool drink and a box of traditional sweets with the simple instruction to wait for the Priest. Apparently, the Priest liked to stop by the tea garden after work. While Satoru is under the shade of the tea room and away from the sun, the humid heat clung onto him like a hot and damp towel. He doesn’t do well in summer weather, and he feels a flush grow from his cheeks to his chest. The yukata feels broad around the shoulders, so Satoru loosens up its collar in hopes to feel a bit cooler and comfortable.

So, here is Satoru, former heir to the Gojo clan and one of the strongest high grade beasts in Japan, full time educator and part time sorcerer, not so patiently waiting for the Priest to show up. The humid heat and the erratic thrumming of his heart leave him on edge. Surprisingly, he has no urge to stuff himself with the sweets offered by the twins. Satoru leaves them untouched by his side, and restlessly pulls and readjusts the collar of his yukata. He watches various sprites roam around the tea garden, slightly amused by the clumsier ones that try to climb on top the rocks, sculptures, or plants.

Satoru isn’t sure how much time passes as he noticed the sprites start rattling and running towards the pond in the center of the tea garden. Some sprawl out by the edges of the pond, while others help each other mount a large sculpture of a white dragon. A pair of large black wings soon appears in the skyline and gracefully lands by the pond.

The Priest, still ever enigmatically garbed in his obsidian crow mask and Buddhist monk robes, dusts off his wings as he greets the sprites in an amused tone. Satoru immediately feels enchanted as the Priest tries to placate the eager bunch of sprites. “Be patient little ones. I know you all are curious and excited to see what I’ve brought this time,” says the masked man with a soft chuckle. “They’re relatively harmless curses. Yes, little ones, no sprites or spirits to rehabilitate this time. Now, please move aside. This is the tricky part, so best to move along or you’ll be trapped along with the curses.”

The sprites attentively back away and watch the Priest, who kneels before the pond. The pond begins to glow and the crow rolls up his sleeves, showing tan, muscular forearms. Satoru’s eyes quickly zero in on the sight of skin and immediately feels parched. He quickly shakes his head to focus on watching the Priest, who forms numerous balls in his palm and lets them sink into the pond. The pond rumbles deeply and ripples as the orbs sink in before stilling once more. The Priest places a palm on the pond surface as if offering a quiet prayer. The sprites and small spirits soon crowd around him vying for his attention, nudging and pulling on his priestly robes and fine onyx hair. The Priest chucks softly, and gently pats and acknowledges as many sprites as he could while maintaining his balance.

Satoru’s breath hitches as the Priest turns and finally notices him. The masked beast freezes in place, and Satoru feels his intense gaze behind the crow mask. The white haired fox beast is somewhat aware of the presence of his dream black koi. And, again, instead of being alone as it usually does in his waking and slumbering dreams, this time the black koi is dancing in tandem with its white counterpart. Satoru is slightly conscious that his blush becomes even hotter pink, but despite feeling somewhat anxious, his positive anticipation makes him grin brightly at the other man. “Surprise, Sugar Plum,” greets the white haired fox with a peace sign.

The Priest doesn’t answer immediately. He affectionately takes the sprites and spirits off himself before walking slowly towards Satoru in the tea room. He stops a few paces before Satoru, who peers over black tinted sunglasses and teasingly sticks out his pink tongue, battling his white lashes. The Priest responds in his soft, amused tone, “Satoru, you are indeed a pleasant surprise. Welcome.”

The Priest soon closes the distance until he’s practically hovering over Satoru. “You should’ve told me you were coming by. I’m a bit disappointed. I missed my chance to properly receive you, Satoru.”

The crow masked beast says Satoru’s name with a slowed and weighted particular kind of drip.

The fox beams and has no qualms in showing his white ears and tails. The way the crow says his name makes Satoru want to wag his tails and purr flirtatiously. “You’re right, Sugar Plum, but I’d rather skip all the frills and formalities,” starts Satoru. “I had some free time, and I wanted to see you IRL instead of texting my rebel bestie like usual.”

The Priest chuckles softly and tilts his head. “So, this is more of a social visit than a business one?”

Satoru feels a warm surge of restlessness run through him, and lowers his sunglasses a bit more. He isn’t one to shy away, and he isn’t going to beat around the bush. The fox holds the Priest’s firm gaze with his baby blues. “No,” he responds, inwardly hoping that he is coming across as charming. “The only business I have today is taking you on a date and wooing you so hard that you can’t help but fall in love with me and be my wifey.”

The Priest stares at Satoru for a prolonged before asking a bit caught off guard, “You want to date me?”

Satoru grins, canines and blue eyes shining brightly. “Yup, with the intention of spousing you up.”

“I wasn’t aware that spousing was a verb,” responds the Priest back.

“It’s very much an action,” replies Satoru cheekily. “But, if that wasn’t clear and direct enough, I want to date you. I want to be your mate, partner, spouse, husband, S.O, boo thang, ride or die, your long legged zaddy, simply your one and only.”

The masked crow continues to stare at the white haired fox. Satoru again wishes to see the dark haired man’s expression, to get some clue or indication of what the other was thinking. The fox tries to breathe out any doubt, and musters all his confidence and determination in his gaze.

After what seemed like a prolonged and arrested pause, the Priest reaches into his sleeves for a handkerchief and leans down further into Satoru’s personal space.

Satoru stares dazedly up at the Priest. He’s somewhat aware that his heart is thumping loudly in his ears as Infinity instinctively retreats into his core, welcoming the Priest’s touch. His breath hitches as the Priest pushes Satoru’s sunglasses up, and long tan fingers linger on the crown of his head and brush against his sensitive fox ears. Satoru can’t help but nuzzle into the firm hand, eyes closing in pleasure.

The Priest teases his ears once more before wiping Satoru’s forehead gingerly with the handkerchief. The Priest follows the contour of Satoru’s face down his neck and towards his collarbone. Satoru tries not to squirm at the sensation, and unknowingly starts biting his lips. While the handkerchief is made of soft cotton, Saroru skin feels raw everywhere the Priest touches. The fox bites down on his lip harder to contain his moans, and feels tears well up behind closed eyes as he tries to fight feeling overstimulated and oversenditized without Infinity.

The Priest lingers on Satoru’s exposed collarbone. Satoru opens his eyes, mildly disappointed, as he feels the Priest adjust the collar of his yukata to cover his somewhat-exposed chest. The masked crow then lifts his handkerchief to wipe the fox’s tears. Satoru immediately holds the Priest’s hand in place with his own, and nuzzles into the crow’s warmth palm before looking up towards the Priest again.

“Satoru, you’re stunning, precious, and oh so bright,” whispers the Priest softly and slowly. “Crows are known to cover and collect shiny treasures.”

Satoru feels his cheeks ache slightly from how much he’s smiling. Memories of hearing the Priest’s low and paced voice in audio messages flood into him, and make him feel rather elated, even high. He really is a sucker for the Priest’s voice. Th fox wraps his other hand where he holds the Priest in place, rubbing his thumbs against the Priest’s warm wrist. The white haired fox purrs audibly as the winged man leans even closer, dark wings slowly enclosing them from the world. Satoru closes his eyes as he cautiously reaches out to the Priest’s crow mask. He traces the intricate lines carved into the obsidian mask, feeling the thrum of the crow’s energy move underneath his fingertips.

“Precious and gleaming like a jewel,” croons the Priest sweetly. “I’m afraid that I’ll hoard you. Devour you even.”

Satoru feels rather warm and tries to hold back another moan, very much taken by the Priest’ possessiveness. His long white tails tentatively grasp around the amazingly defined and tapered waist hidden beneath the Priest’s robes. The fox is curious to see the Priest’s face, but something in his core tells him to wait for the latter to reveal himself. Instead, Satoru traces the latter’s mask for another lingering moment before moving towards the juncture of the Priest’s jaw. Behind his eyelids, Satoru sees his dream black koi dance lazily with its white counterpart. He feels his breath hitch as the Priest reaches for his hands and moves them up to run along the masked man’s ears, earlobe gauges, and fine silky hair.

Satoru keeps his eyes closed, adamantly savoring the feel of the Priest and the intimate image of dancing koi. “Maybe, I want to be kept and devoured, Sugar Plum” he responds and surprises himself with how out of breath and desperate he sounds.

The fox feels rather than hears the Priest’s chuckles. “You’re surprisingly pliant,” says the Priest huskily, as if piqued by Satoru’s eager responsiveness.

Satoru feels a pout coming on because, again, he’s inherently uncooperative and moderately oppositional on any given day. He feels that he should probably feel alarmed by how quickly he is devolving into putty within the crow’s hands. But, those thoughts and any conflicted feelings quickly go away as the crow guides Satoru’s hands to partially lift up his obsidian mask.

Satoru feels his breath hitch again as his hands are guided to touch and feel the lower half of the Priest’s face. He takes in the Priest’s sharp jawline and high cheekbones with bated breath. The Priest then takes Satoru’s fingers to well defined lips. The fox almost faints as he feels the crow softly press light kisses along his fingertips and into his palm. The fox tries to keep his hypersensitivity at bay but he falters against the Priest’s slow, intimate ministrations. Satoru feels close to coming undone, and he’s usually abrasive and anything but cooperative, soft, and pliant. He feels tremors run hotly through his body as he anticipates the Priests next move.

The Priest brings down their hands and holds them to his chest. Satoru feels the fluttering of the crow’s heart, which mirrors his own erratic heart. The fox lets himself be guided by the Priest, and comes down the tea room patio and onto his feet. Satoru’s tails seek desperately to hold onto the Priest’s defined waist, as if afraid that the crow will pull away. He feels the masked beast teasingly hover against his lips. The dream koi swim in a tight circle, fins and scales rubbing intimately against each other in Satoru’s dreamscape.

Satoru feels tears start to collect against his lashes, and he’s so, so close to being taken under. The fine line between exploding in his briefs or fainting from overstimulation blurred. Yeah, no, he needs to reign himself in before he embarrasses himself further by cumming and fainting in the Crow’s arms.

The fox licks his lips and tries to orient himself again. His hands and tails squeezing the Priest, and he finds himself struggling to speak. His throat feels parched and he lets out a small, pathetic sound. The Priest chuckles in response and wipes away his tears before tucking Satoru into his broad chest. And, Satoru lets himself be held and savor the rumble of those chuckles. Even though they’re roughly the same height, Satoru feels surprisingly small and safe in the other’s embrace.

“Sorry, Satoru. Too much?” Asks the Priest softly.

Desperately trying to gain some control back, Satoru nips at the Priest’s collarbone. The Priest’s chuckles vibrate through Satoru, which only further instigates the fox to tug and nib his priestly robes with his canine teeth. The dark haired man squeezes the latter in response and continues holding him in his tight embrace.

They linger there for a while, just swaying and rocking in place and shielded by the Priest’s wings. Satoru is somewhat aware of the buzzing of cicadas and that weird static sound that comes from the heavy humid blanket that is summer heat, but surprisingly, his mind is blank and his senses are focused on the Priest’s scent, heartbeat, and steady and firm body.

“Let’s rest together for our first date,” offers the Priest. “I’m certain you’ll be able to woo me after.”

Satoru’s tails squeeze the Priest’s (insane) waist, and his response is muffled as his face is tucked under the crook of the Priest’s (also insane) jaw. The Priest squeezes him back, which makes Satoru sulk and pout in tired defiance. “Nooooo, I’m supposed to be wooing you. I had plans to take you out.”

“Key word. You had plans,” teases the Priest. “We’ll pick them up again when it’s not so hot and you’re not close to passing out.”

Satoru responds with another pathetic, muffled noise. He resigns himself in getting picked up, and intuitively wraps his legs around that insane waist he was admiring a few moments ago. He surrenders to trust, and let’s himself be carried to hopefully the Priest’s room.