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When Suguru arrived at the Star Cult, the blood that matted his wild hair was finally beginning to dry. His wounds were closed and Shoko had assured him he’d be just fine, but even her reverse-cursed technique couldn't fix the deep ache that settled itself inside his head and pounded every time he so much as breathed.
Pulling open the heavy metal door, Suguru was met with a crowd, smiling, clapping, all peering towards the boy in the center of the room, the boy holding the lifeless body of Riko Amanai, with only a white sheet over top to shield her from the gaze of the audience. Satoru.
Piercing blue eyes focused on Suguru from across the room, and though Satoru would still meet his eyes, there was a terrifying, empty vacancy on his face that made Suguru question if the person he was looking at was even Satoru at all.
The gaze dropped away as quickly as it arrived, turning instead to focus on the floor before Satoru finally spoke.
“You’re late, Suguru.” he paused to reconsider, “No, I think you’re early. The Star Cult owns many buildings in this city, after all.”
Suguru's mind reeled as he processed what he was seeing, who he was seeing, alive and breathing.
Shoko’s expression from the moment he came to told him enough, but nothing solidified the fact that Gojo Satoru was dead more than the hell he was met with the moment he stepped outside. The scarlet red seeping into the broken and battered concrete, far too much for anyone to survive, even a prodigy like Gojo Satoru.
“Satoru Gojo is dead.” The man had said, with a smugness that set a fire of rage filled grief inside Suguru and threatened to suffocate him from the inside out. He did not cry.
Of course, there had been no body, but that was far from suspicious at the time. With a bounty out for Satoru’s head, taking the body would only make sense.
Except now Satoru was standing in front of him, white hair smeared red and blood caking on his face. How was he…?
“You’re Satoru… Right?” Suguru spoke. He would have cursed himself for asking such a stupid question, (- of course it was Satoru, who else could the cursed energy that radiated from his being belong to? -) but the pounding in his head muddled his thoughts far too much for him to care.
Satoru didn’t dignify that question with a response, instead dragging his eyes up and down Suguru’s body, catching on the blood that still clung to his face and clothes.
“You went to Shoko already, right?” he questioned, while Suguru began taking long strides across the room towards him, the crowd parting in his wake.
He nodded, glancing down at the sheet, the body Satoru was cradling in his arms.
“Yeah, she fixed me up. I’m fine.” his gaze traveled to the hand hanging limp out from under the sheet. A small, delicate hand that belonged to not a woman, but a girl, a child.
“No, it doesn’t matter that I’m fine.” he gritted out, balling his hands up at his sides when he felt them begin to shake. They had failed her. He had failed her.
Satoru finally met his eyes, his expression falling into one of complete neutrality.
“I messed up.” and it felt like a confession, “It’s not your fault.” he said, with such an unshakeable certainty that it made Suguru’s heart hurt, because it was Suguru’s fault. To leave Satoru, injured, to fight an anomaly like the man that had attacked them was far more than even carelessness, and that decision had not only killed Amanai, but almost killed them both as well.
Suguru didn’t know what he would have done with himself if Satoru truly had died. He desperately tried to care about the impact it would have on the world, what the loss of such a powerful sorcerer would cost, but selfishly, all Suguru could find in himself to care about was how desperately he needed Satoru in his life. He should have hated himself for it, but something had shifted the moment the bullet had pierced Amanai’s skull.
The world seemed to tip on its axis as it finally hit Suguru that neither he, nor Satoru would remain completely untainted by what had unfolded. This stain was permanent.
“Let's go back.” Suguru said, as he turned away from the body abruptly. He needed to process, he couldn’t trust himself right now - there were too many emotions - he needed-
“Suguru.” Satoru breathed out from behind him, stopping Suguru dead in his tracks.
Turning around to face him, Suguru met his eyes.
“Should we kill these guys?” Satoru asked softly, too quiet for his voice to reach any ears but Suguru’s. Satoru spoke so plainly it almost felt like Suguru misheard him.
“If we do it now, I probably won't feel a single thing.”
The person he was the second before the bullet entered Riko Amane’s brain wanted to be horrified at the suggestion, told him the meaninglessness, the cruelty of it all. But with Satoru’s back to the crowd, leaving Satoru to see those smiles plastered on those faces. These people, happy, applauding the death of a child. Every second he stood there, the barrier he had put up around his own rage slowly chipped away, and piece by piece he became less and less sure he was the same person anymore.
“Yeah.”