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Power.
If Satoru Gojo was summed up into one word, power would be it. When many believe that you have been blessed by the gods, you often become one, but not the kind of god worth worshipping.
Satoru Gojo may be a God to some, but he is far from holy.
Geto couldn’t help but watch him.
He couldn’t bear to take his eyes away from the almighty being of a man that stood before him.
If the man that stood before him was a god, then he must be something close to damnation.
But, Geto knew hell had a place for both of them.
The feeling this thought gave Geto was something many say resembles something close to love.
Everyday, Geto looked at the man with a feeling of want seeping into his veins, wanting to be near him— wanting to taste his power— wanting his power—wanting him.
But, Geto took this feeling as envy, and the lust of want rotted into something that left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that reminded him of the curses he swallowed day in and day out. The taste of Gojo stained his insides.
As they grew together, they grew stronger, they were the strongest. Gojo would remind him every day with a glint in his eyes, one that still resembled the naivety of a child, despite the horrors he had seen at the age of seventeen. Blue irises would remind day by day that they were the most powerful and that this world was for them to conquer and save side by side. For a while, Geto believed this, he bought into every word Gojo told him, hanging on every syllable as it left his mouth, taking everything he gave him—but somehow everything he took made him feel more and more empty.
Gojo grew stronger than Geto ever could.
Gojo mastered his limitless technique and was able to keep his six eyes turned on all the time, he became untouchable.
Geto was unable to touch him, he took what he could and he was left with nothing.
Gojo went on missions alone and so did Geto, every mission was the same, every curse was balled up and swallowed, scraping his throat with an ugly bitterness no alcohol could burn away. The hours he spent knelt over a toilet bowl, gagging up his meals after swallowing a sickness, a familiar voice would ring in his ear, “We’re gonna kick ass together, ya know that? We’re the strongest.”
Bullshit .
Geto vomited once more.
****
Gojo was rare to see around Jujutsu Tech anymore, he was being sent off on high stake missions, only to complete them in half the time and save room for sightseeing. He became unbeatable, a special grade before he graduated and he did it all alone. His ego filled the space that Geto held, he no longer stood by Satoru’s side, all he could was watch him.
Day after day, Gojo grew even stronger, and people still died, Geto mastered his cursed technique and people were still slaughtered in front of his eyes. Geto did everything he could, he used everything he had learned, and yet people kept dying from curses they didn’t even know existed. Geto watched millions of people live in blissful ignorance, and it brought a familiar bitter taste to his mouth.
He risked everything for strangers, to watch friends die in the process.
“Jujutsu sorcerers are supposed to save people”
Lies .
Curses were ingested into his body everyday for the sake of humanity, the same humanity that murdered an innocent girl, the same humanity that created the curses his body was forced to eat. The same curses that tore his friends apart one by one, decorating concrete with their blood.
Humanity was lost to Geto Suguru.
***
Geto found killing a funny thing, for there truly was no feeling of guilt when it was justified, and they all deserved to be torn to shreds, every last one. Their smell, their look, their incompetence, their lives needed to be snuffed out if the madness would end.
That day, innocence and naivety was lost in the endless blue eyes of Gojo Satoru amidst the busy streets of Tokyo.
“Why did you do it Suguru? The village, all of them, women, children, dead. Why?”
“They needed to be erased Satoru, they’re worthless, useless, disgusting creatures, any non shaman does not deserve to breathe this air, you have to understand this.”
A pained look fell upon Gojo, a look of hopelessness and despair. It was rare to see distress written in the brows of the god-like man, but Geto didn’t mind, he hoped Gojo felt it when he fell from the heavenly pedestal he had been placed on. Those blue eyes tore into him, the same eyes of the man that he would have followed to the ends of the earth. Now, those eyes burn a familiar, sickening feeling into Geto, the feeling all curses bear.
“Are you Satoru Gojo because you are strong? Or are you strong because you are Satoru Gojo?”
No other words were spoken between the two men in the busy street. They knew what had become of them, they knew that they were no longer. Gojo felt a feeling of emptiness he did not understand, Geto felt a curse growing inside of him.
We were never the strongest Satoru, Geto thought as he walked away into the crowd, leaving the blue-eyed man behind, that was just a lie you told me so you wouldn’t be lonely.
****
Blood seeped from Geto’s body as he fell limp against the alley wall, the city he tried to burn stood unnerved in front of him, along with a god he once stood with. Gojo stood before Geto’s mangeled body and unraveled the wrap over his eyes, their blue hue shown despite the darkness around them, Geto found a strange nostastalga in his porecileine eyes, though he blamed this feeling of warmth on the fact that death loomed over him, breathing down his neck.
“Is my family safe?” He croaked.
“Yes, they all ran away, you gave the ones in Kyoto the orders right?”
Geto let out a struggling sigh, “Well, it's because I’m nice, unlike you. You send those two specifically so that they could be done by me, and trigger Okkotsu’s explosion, right?” He looked over at the tall, lanky man standing above him,
“It’s because I trusted you,” Geto looked into his eyes, “I knew you wouldn’t kill young shamans for no reason.”
Geto couldn’t understand it, but this made him laugh, a true, honest, laugh that came from his heart and wasn’t born out of bitterness or malice.
Gojo held a straight face, but his eyes were weighed with a look of sadness Geto knew all too well, “Any last words?” Geto looked too the ground, he felt numb, blood was seeping into the crack in the concrete, he would stain this place, this would be his legacy.
“No matter what anyone says, I hate all non shamans. But it's not like I detested anyone from the college. Its just that in a world like this, I can’t laugh from my heart at all. “ Geto closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, he was going to die and he was going to take it with pride, he just wanted it to end.
“Suguru?”
Geto looked up one last time at Satoru, “You always have, and will always be my one and only.” His words were heavy, and struck something within Geto, a feeling he never quite could understand.
Want seeped in Geto’s veins for a place with Satoru, a feeling that filled his lungs and was all he could taste—a feeling his mistook for envy, but this was a completely different kind of curse that suffocated him.
Oh.
So this is love.
Love,
It had been ripping him apart for years. He tasted death on his tongue along with the realization of his feelings. A smile crept onto Geto’s lips for one last time, it was tired and broken— of course he realized he loved him now, as he teetered on the brink of death. Yet, Geto found peace with this, he would die here at the hands of the man he loved, the lines of love and violence truly blurring.
Geto looked up at Gojo, he stared into the sea of blue in front of him, and without saying a word he spoke all his truths to him. Getos eyes were growing more and more tired, his eyelids feeling heavy as he took in a deep breath. Gojo bit the inside of his mouth, his composure faltering.
He knew. Gojo knew what Geto was thinking, even with life dripping away from his deep brown eyes they spoke all the words Geto was thinking. He spoke what needed to be left unsaid, the truth too violent for the air.
A sigh shook his rib cage,
“You could at least curse me a little at the end.”
Satoru Gojo was powerful. He was a god in a world inhabited by man. Geto couldn’t help but watch him— be drawn to his light despite the ego and arrogance he bathed in the warmth of a being far more powerful than he could ever be.
Suguru Geto was damnation in this world, he was all that was unholy and obscene, hell had a place for him when he arrived, but it held a place for a god he once knew, that left with a feeling that resembled what many could only describe as love.