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After the defeat of special grade curse Kenjaku , Satoru is granted special permission to interrogate the creature. The council had never agreed to a favor from Gojo Satoru so smoothly, that he would almost be thankful, had it not been the sacrifices made to defeat their enemies.
“Speak to me, Suguru.”
Satoru’s voice was commanding – cold, unlike how he would’ve spoken to the other all those years ago. The ‘Suguru’ restrained before him gives a crooked smile, as if he had never really learnt how to smile.
“Fine then. Kenjaku . Tell me. Was it all worth it, in the end?”
For all his men to die by the hands of the entire jujutsu world – an unsheathed night of bloodshed that eliminated up to almost two thirds of curses across Japan. Satoru wonders whether it would’ve been worth it, whether Suguru would’ve argued against Kenjaku’s ideologies, or whether he would've agreed?
“It was worth every moment. From stealing this vessel, to forming the army, to every life we managed to take and every life we managed to ruin.”
Kenjaku laughs, face contorted in a way that Gojo could hardly recognise as his best friend (his one and only, most adored, but he cannot say that as easily as when he was seventeen). Brows furrowed in annoyance; lithe fingers brought to massage the bridge of his nose before a harsh sigh leaves through gritted teeth.
“You cannot be serious.”
Gojo is going to kill Kenjaku. In the interrogation room. He will disregard the orders of his higher – ups; if he could do it once, then he could do it again. It would simply be another meaningless death atop the mound of bodies that built the pillars beneath his feet.
“Oh, but I am. And it was awful, Gojo Satoru. His head would not clear of you!”
And that puts a stop to Satoru’s approach. He is frozen in time, tossed back to their first summer together, when the tv static seemed to drown the orchestra of cicadas chirping outside, where the children would laugh, running around outside without a single care in the world, and Gojo felt as if that had been the last time he had truly felt ‘home’.
“Every time I spoke of your name, something stirs in this pathetic body of his. It’s disgusting, truly.”
Kenjaku spat, placing an emphasis on the pathetic part of his statement. Satoru settles back into his chair with a shaky breath. Fourteen years , and the memories of their youth still danced on the tip of his tongue, as if he could still call out the name ‘Suguru’, and the man seated opposite him would reply.
“Tell me more. Tell me what you can see.”
A soft murmur echoes through the walls that caged them together. It would’ve been a great regret, Satoru thinks, if he had been the only one to remember the passionate burns of their adoration. Even if the vessel of Geto Suguru no longer belonged to his beloved, the creature that occupied his body would surely remember.
“Are you asking me for a favor? Gojo Satoru, you are more pathetic than I thought!”
Falling into their trap, sealed away as the war that raged tore his life apart, Satoru will admit it. He had never been the one to make considerate decisions – always charging headfirst into battles while under the guise of being the ‘strongest’.
“Tell me, and I will make your death a painless one.”
He takes a step closer, leaning over the vessel as he speaks. Before him had been Suguru’s eyes, Suguru’s face, his voice, his body, everything was the same, yet everything had been different.
“Fine. but only because I think it’s disgusting , the way his soul remembers you.”
Kenjaku relents, strangely. Satoru has convinced himself that it had been because of a newfound guilt - or perhaps the weight of Suguru’s life has finally eaten away enough of Kenjaku to surface.
Satoru sits back, ‘lax against the uncomfortable chair as Kenjaku begins to run through Suguru’s memories.
***
Summer, age 16 .
Gojo Satoru is as radiant as the sun. He is as bright as the stars, as calm as the breeze, he is everything I have ever wanted. I met him at the door of our classroom, white hair and blue eyed, a visage that I once dreamed of. I knew I was bound to fall, to drown in a puddle melted with his name, and I was content with that.
That summer, in particular, set my memories aflame. I did not believe myself to be a good sorcerer - perhaps not even one that could qualify as good . I told Gojo that, and he took my hand. Calloused, scarred, almost uncomfortable, but more human than I had ever seen him. And his honeyed voice, gentle like a waning moon, told me everything would be alright. It was the first time Satoru told me he was the strongest. I laughed, if he was the sun, then I would undoubtedly be his moon. Forever in the shadows, forever behind him.
Autumn, 16.
The seasons changed, but my heart remained to be settled on Satoru. We’ve been sent on more missions, with Shoko, of course. The three of us were the perfect team, and no one could argue with that. Satoru took me to a shinto shrine after a long day, cheeks flushed and breathing fast. He said he wanted to show me something, and I took up the chance without hesitation.
Once there, at the Torii gates, Satoru gave me a charm of peace. It had the character of my name embroidered on it, natsu , summer. I laughed, I did not know he was into the superstitious until that day, and he told me he liked it when I laughed, how it made his heart full, and his chest warm. I remember pulling at him to sit down, and I made a vow I could not keep.
‘For you, I will smile by your side forever.’
He made me swear, and I did just that. Under the autumn moon, us soon-to-be starcross’d lovers swore an oath that only the two of us knew. The two of us, and the stars that listened to our secrets.
Spring , 17.
Satoru was 10 months younger than me, and he never really liked that. But despite that, he had been selected to take on solo missions, while Shoko and I were stuck with duo training. I admire Satoru for all he is - breathtaking and utterly exhilarating. We did not see each other as often, only the rare occasions when our schedules allowed, though that only made each meeting more everlasting, more of an eternal imprint on this mortal vessel of mine.
It was a rare day off for the both of us, undoubtedly spent in the dorm rooms, doing nothing but splayed out on our futons, relaxing with the sound of spring rain. Satoru threw a pillow at me, and I retaliated, and we fought, and fought, and fought. Until our room echoed with nothing but pure joy and happiness, until our raw emotions melted into the floors and was carved into our bones. I told him that day, that he was my all, and more. I did not know family until I had met Gojo Satoru, and that is a truth I have kept close to my heart.
He smiled, and told me I was growing soft. Perhaps I was, perhaps that’s why I fell to my own calamitous desires, because I could not beat the darkness that craved to be released. But we did not know of our fate then, and I nodded. Then we laid there in the evening, he spoke of his life, his missions, his victories and defeats, and I listened. I had known Gojo Satoru better than the back of my hand. I knew the real Satoru, not the strongest sorcerer, not the one destined to change the course of the jujutsu world, I simply knew ‘Satoru’, at his purest form, and I adored him like that.
Winter, 17 .
I broke my promises to Satoru.
***
“There. What else do you want to know?”
His voice tugs Satoru back into the present - into the crimson lit room that watched his every move, and he could not help but detest his status. Geto Suguru had loved him. He had loved Satoru like the moon loved the sun; adored from afar, destined to always miss the other.
“Is that all?”
Voice raw, strained with the memories of a mortal lover (a could-have-been lover) immortalized in his mind.
“No. His longing for your heart almost outweighs my desires to ruin the balance of this world.”
Kenjaku scoffs, lowered gaze staring at the harsh concrete floor beneath their feet. He could almost feel the devastation, a loud ringing that tore through his ribs, but he will not tell Gojo Satoru that.
“You took him from me.”
Gojo murmurs, shaking his head as the thoughts of ‘what-if’ crash against his mind like waves to a cliff. His accusation elicits a sharp laugh from the other, and he glares.
“You were the one who killed him, Gojo Satoru. Not me.”
Hands brought to cradle his own head, Kenjaku’s words - the truth, gnawed at his skin. How delicate he was, spiraling into madness.
Gojo Satoru had loved Geto Suguru with the same intensity. His longing mirrored that of the moon, always changing, yet never gone. Suguru did not ask him to be ‘the best’ all the time, because he too, understood the weight of words on young shoulders. Satoru was nothing more than himself, a shell of energy that threatened to burst through the seams. If he was given another chance, Satoru would tell Suguru that it gets lonely, being on his own all the time.
“Now what? You’ll kill me?”
Kenjaku interrupts his thoughts once more, an ugly smirk staining the features of a face he once adored with all his heart. Gojo Satoru shakes his head, he had been the interrogator, not the executioner. He was not trusted to kill someone so dear to him, even if his consciousness had long since decayed, and all that remained of the real Geto Suguru had been a fragment of his soul.
“You will rot alone, in here.”
He spat, chest aching at the final sight of what could’ve been, before turning to leave. Geto Suguru - or, the vessel of Geto Suguru, will remain in seclusion, until Kenjaku can be eradicated. Only then, will his body be retrieved, and burned.
Only then, can Gojo Satoru say a proper goodbye to his polaris, his dearest friend, his one and only.