Years passed in the nameless oasis, and Yuji and Gojo learned to live quietly, filling their days with small routines.
Yuji, as always, marked the stone outside with his knife, one line for every day. He crouched, squinting at the crude tally marks, and carved a fresh line. "Twenty-four already, huh? Wow… I really became an adult."
He stood, brushing sand from his robes, and stretched his arms with a groan. Despite the years ticking away, neither he nor Gojo showed signs of aging. Their bodies stayed youthful, strong, untouched by time.
Yuji had also long since gotten used to his… altered body. Feminine only in the sense that what once made him a man had changed. But his frame, his chest, his voice, all still carried his usual manly edge. No sudden curves. No breasts. And for that, he was endlessly relieved.
"Haa…" Yuji exhaled, glancing around the wide oasis. "Now where's that senpai of mine? Probably hammering something again."
Gojo had picked up a peculiar obsession over the years: carpentry. Tables, chairs, shelves, doors, his hands had shaped nearly everything in their home. At first the results were laughably crooked, but persistence had carved skill into him. Now, the furniture was almost beautiful.
Yuji, on the other hand, kept to his duties: cooking, washing, maintaining their supplies. The days were repetitive, the boredom heavy, but between the two of them they managed to fight off despair.
As Yuji wandered, he finally spotted his senpai crouched over a pile of wood, hammer echoing in steady rhythm.
"...Wait. Is that—" Yuji's eyes widened. "A boat!?"
Gojo lifted his head, grin spreading ear to ear. "Exactly, Yuji! Yeheheh." He held up the rough frame proudly.
Yuji's jaw dropped, half impressed, half exasperated. "Wow, senpai! At this rate, I swear one day you'll end up building a helicopter."
Gojo puffed his chest, wiping sweat from his forehead with a dramatic flair. "Naturally. You underestimate the genius of Gojo Satoru."
Yuji burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Next thing I know, you'll be making an airport runway out of sand."
Gojo smirked, hammer still in hand. "Don't tempt me. You'll be the first passenger when it's done."
That made Yuji laugh even harder, doubling over until his cheeks hurt. Gojo just grinned and went back to working, each strike of the hammer echoing across the stillness of the oasis.
"This boat… you're really planning to use it for that ocean?" Yuji finally asked, curiosity creeping in despite himself.
"Yep. Of course, Yuji." Gojo's answer came without hesitation, his tone carrying that usual confidence that made Yuji believe he could probably actually build a plane runway if he wanted to.
"I mean… will it even float?" Yuji tilted his head, skepticism in his voice but hope in his eyes.
"That's why I'll test it here first." Gojo nodded toward the wide pool of oasis water. "Safer to sink in shallow water than out there, right?"
"Ouhhh, makes sense." Yuji nodded, pretending to understand boat-building logic.
For a while, silence fell between them, only the rhythmic thud of Gojo's hammer filled the air. Yuji's gaze lingered on his senpai. Gojo had stripped off his shirt, and his torso gleamed with sweat in the desert light. His defined abs flexed with every swing of the hammer, muscles moving effortlessly like they were carved just for this kind of work.
Yuji blinked, realizing his mouth had gone dry. Almost unconsciously, his own hand went to his stomach, pressing against the softer skin there. He still had abs–sort of–but nowhere near the sharp lines Gojo carried so casually. His had faded after a year of routine cooking, laundry, and scavenging. It wasn't like the prime him anymore.
A sigh slipped out before Yuji could stop it. "Man… that's unfair."
Gojo glanced up mid-swing. "Huh? What's unfair?"
Yuji quickly dropped his hand and shook his head. "Nothing! Just… life, you know." He forced a laugh, but his tone sounded hollow even to himself.
Gojo studied him for a moment, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. Then, he set the hammer down and stretched lazily, muscles flexing even more as if to mock Yuji's insecurity.
"You're staring awfully hard, Yuji," Gojo teased, grinning. "Admiring me? I can't blame you. I am a masterpiece."
Yuji sputtered, face heating up. "W-What? No way! I was just… thinking how annoying senpai are!"
"Sure, sure." Gojo chuckled, picking up the hammer again. "Don't worry, you've still got that baby-faced charm. Maybe not abs, but you've got your own appeal."
Yuji's jaw dropped. "What kind of backhanded compliment is that?!"
Gojo only laughed, the sound rich and carefree, echoing through the desert air.
But Yuji's heart skipped despite himself. Even when teased, even when made the butt of the joke, being seen and acknowledged by Gojo, even in such a silly way, made the dull ache of jealousy fade a little.
He let out a small smile, muttering under his breath, "Idiot old man…"
Gojo, naturally, heard him anyway. "Love you too, Yuji~" he sang out, just to make the younger one flush red all over again.
+++
"Hmm hmmm 🎶"
Yuji hummed tunelessly, sprawled belly-down on the long chair Gojo had built in their living space. Bored out of his mind, he dragged a piece of charcoal across a slab of wood, sketching clumsy outlines of familiar faces. Megumi's serious scowl. Nobara's sharp grin. The lines weren't neat, and the proportions were off, but the resemblance was there if you looked hard enough.
Gojo's voice suddenly cut in. "What is that–aliens?"
Yuji jolted, half covering the drawing like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing. Gojo strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a tray of freshly sliced apples. He plopped down beside Yuji and leaned in, blue eyes glinting with mischief as he inspected the sketches.
"They don't look like aliens! It's Megumi and Nobara!" Yuji protested, cheeks puffing out.
"Ohhh," Gojo said, as if enlightenment had struck. "Right, right. I see it now. That squiggly one must be Megumichan's hair."
Yuji smacked his shoulder lightly. "It's not squiggly, it's artistic!"
Gojo laughed and pushed the tray toward him. "Artistic, huh? Well, Van Gogh, have an apple before you starve for your craft."
Yuji rolled his eyes but took a slice anyway, munching while glancing back at his drawings. "It's been so long since I saw their faces… I thought if I drew them, maybe I wouldn't forget." His voice softened, almost a whisper.
Gojo's grin faltered, just for a heartbeat. He leaned back against the chair, watching Yuji's expression. "You won't forget," he said quietly. "Not Megumi. Not Nobara. Not anyone. Your memory's too stubborn for that."
Yuji blinked at him, surprised by the gentleness in Gojo's tone. He smiled faintly. "Still… drawing helps."
Gojo plucked the charcoal from his hand suddenly, twirling it between his fingers like a weapon. "Fine then. Draw me too. I bet you'll get my gorgeous jawline wrong."
Yuji groaned. "Senpai, you're the last person I wanna draw. Too much hair, too much ego."
"Too much perfection, you mean." Gojo smirked, striking a ridiculous pose.
Despite himself, Yuji laughed, shoulders shaking as the heaviness from before lightened. "Maybe I'll draw you as an alien. That fits better."
"Rude," Gojo muttered, though his grin never faded.
For a while, they sat together, Yuji sketching, Gojo stealing apple slices one after another, until the sound of laughter and quiet scribbles filled the little oasis home.