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He lets out a deep sigh as his hands reach for the piece of fabric, wrapping it tightly around his eyes. He wonders when he began to wear it, when his appearance changed so drastically, when he decided to cage up his melting heart.
Gojo sits with the other jujutsu sorcerers, his ears drowning out any sentence formulating within the meeting. He’s thinking about the dozens of missions he’s been assigned to do. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer within the jujutsu society chooses to protect the weak with his powers, it is simply his duty. Others look at him with fear. The symbol of power shines above his head like a crown, the gold drips on his forehead as he tries to reach for the crown predestined to stay on him forever and ever.
He raises his head and makes out the picture of his best friend shining distinctly on the board, Yaga is pointing at him, waves begin the crash in his ears. He swallows thickly, nothing is in his throat and yet, he feels like he is choking.
Gojo knows what he needs to do, yet his hands shake at the thought. The meeting ends abruptly, he proceeds to finish a mission for another sorcerer to occupy himself. He is a porcelain doll, an empty shell full of nothing.
It has been a year since he left the society for his delusional ideals. Gojo knows it will not work, it will never work, but he cannot bring back someone who does not want to be saved.
He uses his technique to destroy a first-grade curse, bringing the non-shamans to safety outside the building, a long sigh escapes his mouth. This is so tiring. He passes a timid looking Ijichi, a smile rising on Gojo’s face.
“Take me back to the school”.
He walks back to his room, noticing how his desk is piled with rows upon rows of papers, they're mission reports. He promises himself he will finish them at a later date, some papers have sat there since last year. But the higher ups won’t care, as long as Gojo Satoru is still a sorcerer, he is a tool for their liking. They can make him bend to their will, sending him missions upon missions to keep him occupied for months and he will do it. He will do it to protect the weak whilst despising the leaders of jujutsu society.
Nothing has been the same since he left, to Gojo, to Shoko and to Yaga. There is a visible emptiness in the hallways, no longer does the strongest stand by his equal. He haunts the halls by himself now, his presence forcing others to kneel before him, to praise him like a god.
He visits Shoko within her office, a soft smile rising on his lips as he leans on the door frame.
She watches him with tired eyes, a cigar hanging from her chapped lips “I’d say I’m dreaming if someone like you came to me to get bandaged up”.
“Can’t an old friend say hi?”
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, she scoffs.
“Yeah, I guess he can”.
*
Gojo sits in a café, swirling his tea as the cubes of sugar eventually dissolve into the drink. He drops another cube as a precaution.
Unfortunately, the sugar doesn’t dissolve anymore. He takes a sip of the saccharine drink, tasting nothing but liquid sugar. He smiles in bliss, looking at the decoration of the place, it certainly isn’t the prettiest café he’s ever laid his eyes on, but for a rest day it will do.
A familiar figure passes the front window, he glances twice to make sure he isn’t dreaming. Gojo continues to finish his drink, sinking in his chair. He should be used to this; it wouldn’t be unusual seeing his best friend walking past him or shopping in the same places as him. His tongue feels sickly sweet, he feels disgusting.
He wonders if he still recognises Gojo, or if he is just one of many faces in the crowd now.
Gojo walks into a clothing store, aimlessly browsing through clothes. He could easily buy the whole store if he wanted to, but he decides against it. He’s always wearing the same outfit anyways. Someone bumps against his shoulder, he jumps instinctively. He forgot to turn on his infinity.
“Sorry-” Gojo turns to the person, they are staring at him with wide eyes.
“Satoru?”
“Suguru” he croaks. He bites his lip at the response, Gojo is grateful he’s wearing his blindfold.
Geto laughs, covering his mouth ever so slightly. He can see the smile behind his hand, Gojo’s stomach churns as he watches him through the flimsy wrapping around his eyes.
“You look ridiculous” he huffs.
It has been a year since they talked, Gojo wanted to see him again, ask him to stay but he’s just standing there, facing the very man who broke off three years of their friendship and Gojo’s final summer.
“I guess I do, don’t I?” the words escape his mouth without him realising.
He shuffles through the clothes in front of him, trying to distract himself. It feels like they never had a fight, Geto never became a fugitive to the jujutsu society, and they are just best friends.
“Just a bit” Geto smiles “shopping for something special?”
“Not really” Gojo huffs, looking over at the bag Geto is holding in his arm “you?”
The sound of waves begins in his ears again, it starts roaring and crashing as Geto begins speaking to him again. He tries to bring himself back to reality, hoping who he really is speaking to is Geto Suguru.
“...my girls”
Gojo’s mouth hangs open at the last part, since when did he have kids? His body feels too warm, his clothes feel too tight. he glares at Geto, the blindfold covering half of his malice countenance. Geto recognises his shock, waving his hand “It’s nothing like that, they’re not my kids, I brought them under my wing from a mission”.
Geto walks to another section of the store, Gojo follows after reflexively. The only thing he can muster up is an “oh” as a response. Geto looks through some trousers, pulling out one that would definitely suit his height and fit him snugly, he brings it to Gojo.
“What do you think?”
Gojo hums in response “I thought you liked more loose trousers?”.
He remembers when they got their uniforms, he refused to get Geto’s trousers even though he copied majority of his outfit. He thought it looked stupid, Geto thought it was comfy.
“Yeah, they’re not really my style” he puts it back.
He walks to another part of the store, Gojo continued following after. Geto pulled out cloth after cloth, asking Gojo’s opinion, and he gave it to him every time. Eventually, the only thing that ended up in Geto’s arm was a single black shirt. He noticed how Geto looked more cheerful than usual as he wandered around with him, he seemed to have gained weight and his hair was longer and silkier. It was as if he could get lost in pointing out how much Geto had changed from leaving the Jujutsu society.
“Have you lost weight?” the question snaps Gojo back to reality, he notices they are standing outside the store. The shirt is in a bag, hanging with the other one in Geto’s arm.
Gojo huffs, a small smile wavers on his lips.
“I’m fine, Suguru”.
Geto can notice the littlest things about him, it annoys him so much. But right now, it makes him want to drown in a river. He wants to sink so deep and hope that no one ever finds him in his unfathomable sorrow. He is thankful his eyes are covered by the stupid bandages.
Geto smiles at him once more, he knows that it’s not genuine. He’s seen it too many times to recognise which one is real and which one is not. His heart throbs as he is met with such a sight.
“See ya, Satoru”, he waves him goodbye as he disappears into the busy street.
Geto eventually turns into the many individuals of Shibuya, the people Gojo has a duty to protect. He met the world’s worst curse user and he let him go, again. His hands begin to shake, he feels too warm for his own good.
Gojo Satoru has one weakness.