Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 37

The following few days, the people at Jujutsu High clearly sensed a strange, low-pressure atmosphere. The two individuals who usually liked to stick together (mostly Gojo Satoru unilaterally sticking to the other) suddenly became “clearly separated.”

Xue Yang began taking on missions frantically. Regardless of the rank or location, as long as the assistant supervisor handed it over, he would nod almost without looking. From clearing out a gathering place of Grade 3 Curses to investigating rumors of curses in remote areas, he kept himself busy like a spinning top. He was rarely seen during the day, and often returned late at night, covered in exhaustion and dust.

More obviously, he was deliberately avoiding Gojo Satoru.

The training ground? If Gojo Satoru appeared, he would immediately stop training and leave.

The classroom? If Gojo Satoru walked in, he would slip out the back door.

The cafeteria? Seeing that white figure, he would grab his tray and walk away.

Even at night, he tried to lock his dorm room door (though Gojo Satoru managed to open it every time using some unknown method), then he would turn his back to the door and pretend to be asleep, his body stiff as a rock.

This almost childish avoidance behavior was noticed even by Itadori and the others.

“Did Xue Yang and Gojo-sensei have a fight?” Itadori whispered.

Kugisaki rubbed her chin. “Doesn’t look like a fight. It looks more like Xue Yang is unilaterally avoiding him…”

Fushiguro Megumi: “…Don’t worry about it.”

Zenin Maki: “Heh, that idiot Satoru finally pissed someone off.”

Panda and Inumaki Toge secretly started a betting pool on how long Xue Yang could keep up the avoidance.

Gojo Satoru saw all of this but did not take any forceful measures. He still appeared punctually every day wherever Xue Yang might be, wearing his signature, blindingly bright smile and carrying various new sweets, only to watch Xue Yang bolt away like a startled rabbit.

He was giving Xue Yang time to process things, and also enjoying the fun of this “cat and mouse game.” However, his patience was not infinite.

One week later, in the evening, Xue Yang returned to Jujutsu High, slightly fatigued after finishing a Grade 2 mission that was neither too close nor too far from Tokyo. He deliberately dawdled outside until dusk, estimating that Gojo Satoru might have been called away for a meeting with Principal Yaga, before quietly sneaking back to the dorm area.

He cautiously pushed open his dorm room door, ready to close it behind him, when a familiar, smiling voice that made his scalp tingle sounded right behind him:

“Yo, our busy man finally decided to come back?”

Xue Yang’s body froze. He spun around abruptly, only to see Gojo Satoru leaning casually against the wall outside his door, hands in his pockets. His sunglasses were pushed up onto his forehead, and his pale blue eyes, carrying a knowing smile, looked straight at him in the dim corridor light.

When did he get back?! Wasn’t he supposed to be in a meeting?! Xue Yang’s heart sank. He instinctively wanted to rush outside.

But Gojo Satoru was faster. He took a seemingly casual step forward, extended an arm, and easily blocked Xue Yang’s path. With a click, his other hand closed the dorm room door behind them, and even… locked it.

The small dorm room space was instantly left with only the two of them. The air seemed to solidify, carrying a suffocating pressure.

“Did you enjoy avoiding me for a whole week?” Gojo Satoru took another step closer, trapping Xue Yang between the door and his own body. He looked down at him, his tone still smiling, but the amusement hadn’t reached his eyes, instead conveying an undeniable dominance.

Xue Yang’s back was pressed tightly against the cold door panel; he had nowhere to retreat. He could clearly smell Gojo Satoru’s familiar scent of sweets, mixed with the faint, oppressive aura of the strongest sorcerer. He turned his face away, avoiding those eyes that seemed to see through everything, his voice stiff: “Who was avoiding you? I just had a lot of missions.”

“Oh?” Gojo Satoru raised an eyebrow, reached out, and gently lifted Xue Yang’s chin with his fingertips, forcing him to look up. “Then why do you run every time you see me? You won’t even eat my favorite Kikufuku mochi anymore? That’s not like our student Xue Yang.”

His fingertips were warm against Xue Yang’s skin, but it felt like being branded by a hot iron. He violently slapped Gojo Satoru’s hand away, his voice carrying a trace of imperceptible panic: “Don’t touch me!”

Gojo Satoru smoothly retracted his hand, but his gaze remained locked on him. The smile on his face gradually faded, becoming serious: “Since you don’t want to beat around the bush, let’s get straight to the point.”

He took a deep breath, looking into Xue Yang’s amber eyes, which were especially bright due to tension and wariness, and stated clearly, word by word:

“Xue Yang, I like you.”

It was not a joke, not teasing, but an incredibly solemn, incredibly clear confession.

Xue Yang’s pupils contracted sharply. Although he had already overheard it, hearing those direct words from Gojo Satoru’s mouth still delivered a massive shock. He felt his heart violently thump, and blood instantly rushed to his cheeks, even his earlobes burning red. He wanted to refute, to mock, to say something to break the unnerving atmosphere, but his throat felt clogged, and he couldn’t utter a single word.

Gojo Satoru didn’t give him a chance to escape and continued: “It’s not a teacher’s affection for a student, nor a strong person’s pity for the weak. It’s the kind of liking a man has for his beloved—the kind of liking that makes me want to keep you by my side forever, to possess you entirely.”

His voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a strange power of reassurance, yet also containing an irresistible dominance.

“I know this is sudden, and I know you might need time to understand, or perhaps… you might even find it disgusting.” Gojo Satoru’s gaze did not waver, candidly acknowledging all possibilities. “You can take your time thinking. I won’t pressure you. But, Xue Yang, stop hiding from me.”

He looked at Xue Yang’s eyelashes, which trembled slightly from shock and confusion, and softened his tone, adding a promise that was almost gentle:

“This world might still be strange to you, perhaps full of rules and constraints you dislike. But it doesn’t matter.”

“I will give you a home.”

“A home that belongs only to the two of us. No excessive rules, no unnecessary people, just you and me. You can plant your favorite poisonous weeds in the yard, fill the room with your dangerous ‘little gadgets,’ eat as many sweets as you want, and sleep in until whenever you please. You won’t have to worry about hunger or cold, you won’t have to guard against a knife in the back, and you won’t have to be… alone anymore.”

Gojo Satoru reached out. This time, there was no coercion. He gently, with infinite tenderness, brushed aside the slightly curly black hair on Xue Yang’s forehead, revealing his smooth brow and those eyes filled with confusion.

“By my side, you can just be Xue Yang. The good, the bad, the ruthless, the difficult—any version of you is fine.” His fingertips finally rested on Xue Yang’s cheek, feeling the burning heat, his voice as soft as a sigh. “I will protect you and indulge you until you are willing, and can no longer leave me.”

These words, like the most turbulent surge of Cursed Energy, completely shattered Xue Yang’s shaky psychological defense. A home? A home that belonged only to them? No more wandering, no more pretense or defense, just an absolutely powerful existence promising him a space where he could act as he pleased?

This was a promise he had never dared to imagine, and one no one had ever given him.

He came from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, accustomed to darkness and betrayal, yet Gojo Satoru wanted to give him a “home” filled with sweets and indulgence?

Absurd… too absurd…

But why was his heart beating so fast? Why were his eyes stinging slightly? Why did he feel a trace of longing—a longing that even frightened himself—for the picture that had been painted?

Xue Yang abruptly lowered his head, not wanting Gojo Satoru to see his current distressed expression. He bit his lower lip tightly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his body trembling slightly from the violent emotional fluctuation.

Gojo Satoru did not press him further, only standing quietly before him, waiting for his response. He could “see” the violently churning Cursed Energy within Xue Yang, and sense his chaotic emotions, but he waited patiently, like waiting for a rare flower bud to slowly and firmly bloom for him.

A long time passed, long enough for the sky outside the window to turn completely dark, leaving only the faint sounds of their breathing in the dorm room.

Xue Yang finally squeezed out a muffled sentence, his voice barely audible and thick with a nasal tone:

“…Who cares about your broken home…”

The voice was small, but it lacked the previous sharpness and rejection. Instead, it sounded like… a kind of awkward, bewildered acquiescence.

The corner of Gojo Satoru’s mouth slowly curved into an incredibly genuine, incredibly gentle smile. He knew he had won.

His little wild beast, though still stubborn, had opened a crack in the most solid defense line in his heart, just for him.

It was enough.

Gojo Satoru reached out. This time, there was no resistance. He gently pulled the stiff but no longer struggling Xue Yang into his embrace.

“Mm, I know you don’t care about it,” Gojo Satoru rested his chin on the crown of Xue Yang’s head, his voice filled with laughter and indulgence. “I care about you. So, whether you want to live in this home or not… you’re going to live in it.”

The boy in his arms remained tense, but he did not push him away.

The gentle night enveloped the two embracing figures. A game that began with curiosity and taming had quietly transformed into a deeper, tighter bond. And that promised “home” no longer seemed like a distant illusion.