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Sometimes Satoru still remembers.
Turns to talk to someone who’s not there. It's been years since he’s been able to turn to Suguru and yet it feels as though if he just turned around fast enough, let his disbelief suspend itself for just a split second long enough, he’d be able to see him from out of the corner of his eyes.
He never does though.
Most days he gets by just fine, between the excitement surrounding the Sukuna situation and the various strange events popping up around the country, there's no time for regrets or mourning.
That doesn’t stop him from staring at the ceiling late at night, unable to turn off his six eyes, unable to forget.
They’d believed themselves unstoppable, the strongest, together.
Now it was just him.
Strongest. What a joke.
There’s no time for regrets, but that’s never stopped him before. Always moving forward, hoping that everything he did would pay off, would end in a world marginally better than what they had. For the sake of those left standing, for those who would remain when the dust settled.
Just keep moving, don't stop, don't think, don’t remember, but never forget.
That all goes out the window at Shibuya.
He really should have seen it coming, should have known his actions would come back to haunt him, but he never thought that meant it would happen quite so literally.
He knew it wasn’t truly Suguru, despite what all six eyes were telling him, deep in his soul he knew. But under the horror, the realisation that he’d royally fucked up, under the rage that filled him at the blatant desecration of the one he held dearest, he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Because even if they never managed to unseal him, even if he was locked away for the rest of eternity.
At least he got to see his face one last time.