𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐋𝐕𝐈 - 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃

THE HEAT WAS UNBEARABLE. Satoru could feel it crawling up his spine, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and back as he stretched out his arms, feet planted firmly on the ground. The sorcerer could feel every sunray burning through his skin, the hot summer air dampening his already sweat-stricken hair which clung to his face, his soft silver locks flattened by the mid-July heat. The Gojo heir was standing on the far-right side of the training grounds, a cocky smile on his lips as he watched his brother struggle on the other side.

Jujutsu Tech was quiet at this time of the year. First and second year students were out for summer vacation while most third years were too busy attempting to complete the minimum hours needed for a promotion. Satoru preferred it like this, the calm that reigned at the school a welcome gift after a full year of teaching and training his students. Satoshi was much of the same, he too tired from the constant lessons and welcoming the quiet that settled during the tiring summer months.

Satoru tipped his head back, his blindfolded gaze briefly taking in the morning sun before his attention fell back on his sparring partner. Satoshi was standing on the other side of the training ground, his expression calm while he positioned himself, adjusting his stance until he was comfortable enough to make his move. He was slow, yet there was a specific brand of calculated thought to his movements. Satoshi was deliberate with his every move, the way in which he circled Satoru reminiscent of a predator assessing his latest pray.

Out of the two Gojo, the younger was probably the most well-trained when it came to body combat. Unlike Satoru, who had always relied heavily on the Cursed Energy that flowed through his veins, Satoshi had been instructed in every possible brand of hand-to-hand combat. His magic was weaker – the power of his Half-sight incomparable to the unsurmountable well of raw potential that inhabited his brother's perfect everblues – but he was a skilled fighter.

It was subtle, the way in which he moved. His Cursed Energy was weak and fickle, but his skill in combat surpassed that of his older brother. Despite his clear disadvantage when it came to raw power, Satoshi was still a force to be reckoned when faced with battle. Of course, his strength was dampened by his reckless attitude and cocky superiority complex, which apparently was a rather prominent family trait. Satoru was much of the same, wearing his entitlement like a crown, yet also being able to wield it like a sharpened blade. They weren't so different, after all.

Out of all the Gojo children, Satoru and Satoshi were the most alike. Seichiro had always been different, setting himself apart from his twin brother at an early age and forging his own path. Setsuki also stood on her own category; as the only female heir of the clan, her fate had been decided long ago. At the mere age of twenty-three years old, the Gojo heiress was already preparing to receive her first marriage interviews in less than a couple of months.

Each one of them had been raised by Sene, yet they all had grown beyond her expectations, choosing their own branch of the Gojo family tree and forging their own path through life. The matriarch didn't mind – as long as their destiny led back to her, of course. Her time as the Clan Head of the Gojo family was coming to an end, and Sene had to make sure her heir was ready to take up the mantle. If Satoru wasn't up for the job, then she'd move to the next in line. And then the next.

Satoshi moved, the sheer speed of his attack a stark contrast against the previous slow circling movements he'd been practicing. Satoru ducked, his brother's fist collapsing against his shoulder instead, the familiar sting of pain blossoming across his pec. Satoshi stepped back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched his brother. Satoru clenched his jaw, rubbing the spot while the pain began to fade away. It was a soft blow, the impact so quick Satoru hadn't been able to see it coming. Satoshi was sneaky like that, always taking advantage of his opponent's weakest spots, using his behaviour to play mind games while he concocted the perfect plan of attack. He was a strategist, a brilliant mind hiding under a boyish figure.

"Come on, that was too easy." Satoshi commented, retreating back to his previous stance while his stare never left his brother. "Your head's not in the game. Focus." As if to prove his point, the youngest Gojo pounced again.

This time, Satoru saw it coming, the Cursed Energy his brother had infused in his arm glowing a pale blue as the sorcerer cradled his brother's hand in his, absorbing the energy before yanking him towards him. Satoshi didn't miss a beat, allowing himself to be pulled only to sneak his arms around Satoru's torso, using all of his strength to shift them. The older Gojo tried to fight it, but Satoshi was physically stronger than him and the sorcerer soon found himself hitting the ground hard, back colliding against the compact sand.

Satoshi looked down at his brother, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips as he looked down at him. His expression flickered slightly, cockiness leaving his features as a worried frown appeared instead. The man looked down at his brother, brows knitted together. These brief training sessions had turned into a habit for the pair. Every couple of days, Satoshi would wake up early and book the training ground behind the shrine. It wasn't the biggest space in campus, but the view was breath-taking. Besides, this way; he could keep an eye out on the first-years training below, especially during winter when temperatures could drop below zero.

Usually, it would take at least a couple of tries for Satoshi to take the lead. He was good at what he did, and his movements were fast, but even then, he always struggled to match Satoru's pace. Satoshi liked to think it was because of his lack of training and how much time he spent indoors trying to finish his teaching duties, but in reality, it had more to do with the unsurmountable chasm between their experience and power. For as long as he lived, Satoru would always be ten steps ahead.

Not today, though. No, today, Satoru was somewhere else. His physical body was there, laying on the ground and recovering from the unexpected blow. His mind, on the other hand, was clearly occupied with something else. Satoru let out a heavy breath, arms falling at his sides as he gazed up at the sun. His body was burning from the heat, his shirtless form covered in sweat while the hem of his pants was damp to the touch. Satoshi surveyed his brother from above, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You're sloppy today. I'm not sure I like it." The man crossed his arms in front of his chest, a petulant look in his cerulean eyes. "Look, I came here to train, but if you're not up to it..." His voice trailed off, an expectant expression crossing over his features.

"I'm fine." Satoru responded quickly as he pushed himself off the ground and dusted his pants. "Let's go again."