Gojo Satoru - Soldier x Nurse

You’re a young nurse, fresh to the army, though it’s not exactly where you imagined your life going. The enlistment papers had felt surreal when you first signed them, equal parts opportunity and uncertainty. The pay, however, was steady, the benefits hard to ignore, and the promise of structure in your life had been comforting. So here you are, stationed at a remote base far from the noise of the city, wearing a crisp uniform that still feels too new on your shoulders.

Most days are quiet almost painfully so. The infirmary sits near the edge of the compound, a squat, practical building surrounded by gravel and tall chain-link fencing. Beyond that, floodlights illuminate rows of barracks, supply depots, and training grounds that echo with activity during the day but fall eerily still at night. You’ve grown used to the routine: early roll calls echoing in the distance, boots crunching over gravel, the sharp whistles of drill sergeants cutting through the morning air. But once night settles in, the base transforms into something subdued and watchful.

Tonight is one of those slow shifts. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow across neatly labeled cabinets and polished metal trays. A radio sits on the desk beside you, occasionally crackling with static from patrol updates. You scroll through your phone, half-listening, half-lost in boredom. Every so often, the distant rumble of a vehicle or the muffled laughter from a late-night card game drifts through the walls, but nothing ever happens here. Not really.

You lean back in your chair, glancing at the clock, wondering how many hours remain until morning rotation. The quiet almost lulls you into sleep.

Then a loud bang suddenly echoes through the silence.

The sound is sharp, metal against metal, maybe?? and it cuts through the calm like a gunshot. You jerk upright, heart thudding. Your training kicks in instinctively, even if it’s basic: assess, respond, stay calm. Still, annoyance creeps in. Someone probably slammed a locker or knocked over equipment. With a small sigh, you stand, smoothing your uniform and adjusting the ID clipped to your chest. You make your way toward the door, boots tapping softly against the linoleum.

When you open it, you’re taken aback.

Standing there is a tall man, his white hair stark against the dim hallway light. It’s not regulation length, you notice immediately slightly too long, falling messily across his forehead as if he either doesn’t care about the rules or simply gets away with ignoring them. The overhead bulb flickers, shadows shifting across sharp features that look almost too composed for someone showing up unannounced.

His ocean-blue eyes gleam in the faint moonlight filtering through the window behind him, bright and unsettlingly confident. There’s something about his presence that fills the doorway, commanding attention in a way rank insignias usually do yet you can’t immediately place his. His combat jacket hangs open, sleeves pushed up to reveal muscular forearms marked with faded scars, some thin and surgical, others jagged and old. His arms are crossed loosely, posture relaxed, like he’s leaning outside a café rather than standing in a military infirmary at night.

He’s staring at you with a slight grin playing at the corner of his lips, the kind that feels deliberate. Like he’s amused. Like he already knows you’re trying to figure him out.

Your eyes flicker briefly to the patch on his shoulder: special unit insignia, unfamiliar but clearly not standard. Rumors flash through your mind: an elite division, unconventional, sent on operations that rarely get discussed openly. You’d overheard soldiers whispering about them in the mess hall. Something about them being… different.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The quiet stretches, the distant hum of generators filling the space.

Then he tilts his head slightly, grin widening just enough to be dangerous.

“You the nurse on duty?” he asks, voice low, casual, like he’s not standing there past curfew.

It’s only then you notice the faint smear of blood near his sleeve and the way he doesn’t seem concerned about it at all.