Humans are disgusting—that, Gojo knows, is a fundamental fact.
Really. For creatures littered with flaws, riddled with sin, why do they have to look out for them? Seriously, all they do is ruin what remains of Earth. They’re soon to meet their doom one day and an angel like him shouldn’t go near a kilometer to a filthy, sack of bones that only knows jack shit.
Well... Maybe with an exception of one human.
Look, Gojo wasn't quite sure himself. There’s just something about this kid named Itadori Yuuji that captured his eyes and he also has no clue whether or not if the matter should be celebrated, because finally, he might have an interest in serving the Holy Law for once. Getou would probably puke rainbows once he sees him actually choosing a human to look after.
Humans are disgusting. But Yuuji... Yuuji was different.
Maybe it’s the interesting pink hair? Or maybe the energetic vibe that surrounds him? His budding smile that looks so untarnished and pure?
Perhaps, it was deeper than appearance but whatever it was—Gojo still feels something.
He didn’t know angels—especially strong ones like him, are capable of such a feeling. Love is a human emotion, as far as he remembers and angels are immune to everything considered human—gold, lies, and emotions. Yet... This.
This must be love, right?
Or has God made a miscalculation in his program somewhere in the wirings of Gojo’s head that he was able to feel whatever this is? Maybe. Well, it's not like Gojo needs to think about it further. Angels like him don't need to worry about shit.
So, Gojo follows it-- by this, he means, he followed Yuuji.
Observed him like a scientist does to a lab rat. Remained by his side, and occasionally, had to counter the variables in the mortal’s realm just to prevent Yuuji from getting hurt.
It’s so strange that Gojo would resort to something so reckless, even going as far as messing with the car of somebody to make sure Yuuji crossed the street safely. The owner of the car died from the shattered glass. (Not like Gojo cares.)
He broke a rule too —that angels shouldn’t be meddling with Earth too much. Angels are supposed to only guide, not manipulate a human’s life. (Not like Gojo cares about stupid rules too.)
It’s so strange that Gojo had to resort to something so absurd such as entering Earth as a teacher who attends Yuuji’s school, just so Gojo could talk to him. Although... that meant more interaction with humans—mainly his fellow 'teachers' that taught kids about math and all that shit, but Gojo still sees his decision as good. Like any other decision he made.
What can he say? He's an angel close to perfection, after all. Or maybe he's already perfect. God only knows.
Yuuji was just as bright as ever. Shining like the light, pure and unadulterated wonder swimming in his eyes. There was no dullness in his form. In his words. In his movements. In his intentions.
He was... warm. Unlike any other human Gojo had encountered.
Gojo would walk up to him with a smile, hands pocketed in his white coat and Yuuji would beam up at him by the windows, saying “Good morning, sensei!” and “You just finished class?” then it would spiral to a longer conversation with Yuuji telling Gojo everything even though the angel knew it already.
But Gojo would be lying if he doesn’t enjoy Yuuji’s company.
The kid doesn’t spare a detail and that’s what Gojo really liked about him. Yuuji’s honesty. Of course, Gojo wasn’t that much of a fool to let Yuuji off just because he saw something in him. He had to go through tests too, just like any other human Gojo rarely interacts with.
Gojo would ask Yuuji questions. First, it was “How old are you, Yuuji?” and “What’s your favorite drink?” and it descends to more personal questions such as “Are you orphaned, Yuuji?” and “Do you live alone?"
And Yuuji answers it.
No holes in his answers for Gojo to bat an eye in suspicion that Yuuji wasn't telling the whole thing. Yuuji’s past, present, future—Yuuji's everything— is engrained in Gojo’s mind, anyway, so he knows the right, exact answers.
At some point, Gojo did doubt Yuuji, like a human would do if they ever hear about God in the first place—like an idiot. But Yuuji kept on shattering his every thought of what humans are and rebuilds it into a picture where he is the vibrant muse of a portrait contrasting the black-stained wall in Gojo’s mind.
He’s all that matters in Gojo’s headspace. He is the center and everything is... nothing. For him, Yuuji was infinity.
After their talks where the remnants of the day fall down in the now-abandoned school hallways, Gojo would return to his invisible state. He flaps swan-like, majestic wings that glow just like his halo that dripped light and he follows his routine. Gojo snaps his fingers only for him to teleport by a walking Yuuji, whistling by the orange street, under the dark sky.
Yuuji was bouncing on his heels, thinking about his dinner for tonight and the movie he’s going to watch after.
Yuuji’s cute as always. Gojo's lip curls. He likes the way Yuuji skips as he strolls towards his home, all happy and carefree. As long as I’m here, you can be carefree as long as you want.
But that’s the thing about Yuuji. He’s always so carefree that even Gojo can’t fathom how Yuuji acts so normal even though Gojo was just a new teacher that the human surely never met. Yet, here he was, treating Gojo as if the angel was someone he knew for a long time.
His guard is always down.
And now that Gojo heard—more like sensed something, in between the shrouded corners of the alleyway, he figured that he might dislike this characteristic of his human. Because now someone’s definitely stalking him but Yuuji doesn’t even sense a thing.
Gojo was in such a good mood just now since Yuuji told him that he might ask for help for his new assignment in Basic Calculus through a call.
Gojo sighs. Fucking humans. He snaps his finger and in an instant, he’s drowned in the darkness of the alleyway, yet his blue, crystal eyes see everything.
A human, an adult one... stood there, hiding, surely looking at Yuuji. There was a sound akin to a sick giggle that ran through Gojo’s ear, as irritating as the sound of a broken disk. “He’s perfect...” the bastard murmurs in a sickening, gravelly voice.
Gojo’s eye twitched and he walks up to the unknowing man, who was blushing hideously.
Lust darted onto Yuuji’s direction and Gojo’s patience immediately gets thin as a silver, violin string and it snaps.
Killing a human is an easy job. It would be alright to kill him. Hell, he’d do this world a favor—exterminating a fucking piece of shit like him.
Gojo needs to correct him. That’s what angels do. He did this already, many, many times before. If he did this many times, then this is no different, even if it breaks a rule.
Tsk, humans really are scum. Why does God take pity on these? Why did he even make them in the first place?
God is narcissistic and of course, he wanted nobodies to worship him in their most desperate times. If the best angels make the worst demons, then what does that make of God?
But Gojo doesn’t need to dwell in nonsense right now.
Before the man could think of following Yuuji around more, Gojo swiped his two fingers in the air and brought the white man into a blank, white room, stretching to nothing. Gojo hides his wings and halo for now. He doesn’t want it to be stained after all.
The perverted sicko slurred, swaying and tumbling as he looks around. “Where am I?!”
“בן אנוש,” Gojo says and the man turns.
“You-- Who are you?!” He points an accusing finger at Gojo.
"ברוכים הבאים לגיהנום.”
“What the fuck? What language are you using?!” He seethes. “Tell me where we are, bastard!”
“Will you shut up?” Gojo complains and he draws a circle with his finger on the air and the man’s mouth disappears before he falls to the ground but there was no sound resonating when he graces the impact. He stayed unmoving there.
Gojo had bound him with a spell that made him stay glued on the white floor. “Stay there while I think about what to do with you.” He estimates that he can get the job done in just an hour in Earth’s time, so he would have time for Yuuji’s potential call.
Since in this white room, time doesn’t exist. Gojo is free to manipulate it.
Gojo looks at the numbers on his phone, kissing the screen and pocketing it.
“I’ll be leaving you for now.” Gojo waves a lazy hand, undoing the spell for the meantime. “Enjoy your stay here in your personal hell.” And he leaves the man alone.
Patience is a virtue. So, Gojo takes his time.
Minutes passed on Earth. It was already a week in the white room, and, oh boy, what a show did Gojo returned to.
A scream pierced Gojo’s ears the second he steps foot in the space but despite it being so rash and crazed, it sounded like a melody ripped from the heavens.
"I-I didn’t rape him, Rebecca, you have to believe me! ” The man cries, sobbing uncontrollably all over the floor. He looks like a mess—horrendous bags under his manic, bloodshot eyes, skin that was almost rotting beneath his white shirt, and his body twisting as he pleads to the emptiness. He turned thin in just a week and Gojo laughs that the scum can scream despite being parched.
It’s an amazing sight. Gojo indulges in it. "Hmm... Rebecca?"
Must be his wife? Meh, Gojo doesn't need to know. He's gonna die sooner or later, why waste time knowing this man's background? Plus, all Gojo needs to know is that he's a threat to Yuuji. Threats are meant to be exterminated, after all.
“I swear! I didn’t!” Then the bastard laughs, running hands all over his face as if he wanted to claw his skin. “I didn’t... I didn’t. I didn’t. ”
Humans are really vulnerable, aren't they? Placing them in a blank room with no exit breaks them so much that they go and act like clowns in a circus. It's funny.
“You didn’t? ” Gojo steps forward, gripping the man’s hair with no care. No gentleness because he doesn’t deserve any form of soft gestures. A human like him deserves nothing. “Who did you not rape? Is it Itadori Yuuji?”
“He was— on the street. I didn’t touch him. ” He trails on, hypnotized. Gojo smirks. If it weren't for me... You could've touched him.
Dirt doesn't deserve to touch Yuuji.
“I didn’t. I didn’t. Please, let me go. Let me out!” The man shook his whole body, panicked frenzy pumping in his blood as he releases himself from Gojo’s grip and began punching the solid block of white, white, and white until blood rose from broken skin. “Let me the fuck out!”
Gojo chuckles. “Repent on your sins, mortal.”
“I didn’t touch anyone. I’m innocent!” The human lies. “I didn’t get near him!”
Spewing from his mouth.
“Wrong answer.” Gojo crossed his fingers on one hand and the good-for-nothing gets pushed down on the ground just like on day one. This time, his mouth was still intact, and Gojo was ready to listen to what the man will sing for him.
Finally, he gets to the fun part.
Gojo positions himself by sitting down on him. “Ever heard of blood eagle?”
“Let me out...”
“It’s in Norse literature, I’ve been reading about it.” Gojo summons a blade—sharp but rusted. “It’s quite a mysterious method but it is intriguing.” The blade rips through the man’s sweat-soaked shirt, revealing his back. “Follow my lead.”
“Stop! Please, please —” A bloody scream echoes in the room when the blade dug inside the skin and thrusts deep in the man’s tailbone. "God! Help, fuck! Plea—"
Oh, so now he's turning religious? As Gojo thought. Humans only cry out for help at their lowest.
Truly. Utterly. Disgusting.
“First, you cut from the tailbone.” Gojo twists the blade, letting the blood gush out, getting the liquid on his hands and he slowly drags the blade upwards. “Make sure to remove all the skin!” he cheers.
Rust mixed in with fresh blood as he proceeds to cut. It was similar to cutting a piece of cake, splitting the skin open, and carving it out. The white shirt began to soak all of the crimson until it pools on the floor, while Gojo continued to carve chunks of skin in a slow, satisfying manner, all the while the piece of shit wailed until his vocal cords tear out.
The ribcage remains under the layers of skin, revealing itself. It's like opening a good present.
“Second.” Gojo lets go of the blade and instead, replaced it with an ax. “Cut the ribs open wide.” A blow cracks and the bones become open.
Every single rib pops up as they glide towards the sides, breaking free from the spine.
The man’s lungs were erratic as it endures hell. It glistened, moist and pink, open to the air for display. A living organ chart.
“Third, you add salt.” Gojo makes a tub of salt appear and sprinkles just a bit and the man positively released all the bile collecting in his throat, choking on sobs of immeasurable pain pumping in his brain, his nerves and it knots on his neck. “Oh my... Humans are so fucking messy."
The man wants to die, Gojo can tell. He wants to black out so he doesn't have to bear with all of this, but his traitorous heart remains alive.
“You’re not allowed to die until I say so. ” It burns like the flames of the lake of fire, and Gojo smears it all on the man’s wet, breathing lungs, sliding his sticky, blood-coated fingers gracefully. “There, there,” Gojo coos before he dumps more salt, filling the man’s chest cavity with the irritating substance, stuffing him like a meal in need of a better taste.
His vocal cords must’ve been plucked away by now by his own force since there was only a small, high-pitched cry leaving the man’s throat. It’s a nice transition from his screaming earlier.
Well, Gojo was getting tired of the whole fiasco, anyway. It’s almost an hour in Earth’s time, too, so he proceeds on what he has to do.
“Then, lastly, I’ll make you into a wonderful little bird.” Gojo sinks his fingers on the man’s slimy lungs and he harvests them, ripe, ripping it out all in one go. The angel dumps the organs somewhere, sending them flying into the room. The man was now dead. But Gojo doesn’t leave something unfinished, so he keeps his promise and adds the finishing touches. He grips the ribs, taking it outward as he starts from the first column to the next, adjusting it that it makes it look like wings.
“Now you have wings just like me." Gojo grins at his masterpiece, clapping. "Humans do have a knack for pretending like angels so might as well make you one myself. A shame, though... You wouldn't see heaven even if you look like one." His phone vibrates against his pocket. He opens it to see a call from none other than Yuuji.
“Yuuji-kun!” he says, giddy. Gojo stands up, staring down at the dead meat spilled on the ground. He kicks the bastard’s face. Disgusting. “What’s up?”
"Uh, sensei...” Yuuji’s angelic voice was calming. It was Gojo's favorite sound in the world. “It looks like I do need help with my homework. You think you can come over?”
He smiles, the thought of Yuuji and him alone makes warmth rush in his chest. Humans are disgusting but if it's Yuuji, then Gojo certainly wouldn't mind. “I’m on my way, Yuuji.”
He wouldn't mind at all.