Chapter Text
“I’m a bad person Satoru.” Suguru murmurs. The lanterns drift away from the shore almost as if its trying to convince Satoru to drift away from his anchor- his home - his one and only
”To me…” Satoru swallows the regret in his throat and the guilt consuming him. “To me you aren’t. ”
It’s in the way Suguru’s hands intertwine with his as they run around the school after a mission. It’s in the way Suguru gives him sweets and ruffles his hair, placing Satoru’s head on his lap with a gentle smile. It’s in the way Suguru cups Satoru’s face, murmuring praises of You’ve worked so hard, let’s go home together Satoru. You don’t have to worry, Satoru. I’m right here. You’re not a god, Satoru. You’re human.
With obsidian eyes which shimmer under the summer sun and a beautiful smile adorning Suguru’s face, it’s so easy to fall in love with him. Drunk dances under the midnight moon, studying under the creaking chandelier in the library and photo-booth sessions after their trip and buying mochi and souvenirs to hang up in their shared rooms-
It’s so easy to fall in love with Suguru. So easy to love the stray hair flicking out of place and the lopsided smile and pretty hands and pink lips and plush cheeks. The realization comes to him when Suguru collapses on him after fighting three special grades together and Satoru carries him back to the school, purely to get attuned to Suguru’s breathing and his heartbeat so he could know if his heart rhymed with his.
His one and only, Satoru calls Suguru.
The only one I have, Satoru tells Suguru.
I love you, Satoru thinks about Suguru.
“Do you need help reaching them or can you move?”
The soles of the shoe are peeling off in Suguru’s grasp, black eyes staring at the boots. Slowly, his fingers smooth over the rough surface, feeling the ridges and bumps along the laces and leather. His brain barely registers the question directed his way, too occupied with the beats of the drum and bass playing in his ear. He should be in school, taking notes on the trigonometry sine and cosine rules, answering meticulously and getting his grades up. But, Suguru doesn’t care. He’s shifting in a month.
He feels the vibration of tapping through the creaking floorboard, decorated in piss stains and fungus, but Suguru doesn’t bother moving. “Hey!” The voice reverberates through the isolated store. It's loud and energetic; something akin to the tone a child uses to persuade their parents to buy ice cream after feasting off sugary sweets and pastries seconds prior. “Mhf! Y’know taking back is how a conversation works.”
The voice reminds Suguru of the buzz of mosquitoes at midnight or the speech of nails against a chalkboard, slowly but surely eating away sanity— annoying and irritating. He feels a finger poke his shoulder, but still, Suguru doesn’t bother moving. It's futile.
"Hellohelloehello!" The voice continues to yap away, bouncing along the walls of the store, hands moving around like the way a cockroach's limbs twitch after spraying an unhealthy amount of chemicals. "Hey! I'm talking to you."
Distantly, the familiar feeling of Devour! Consume! Power! creeps through his veins, poisoning his thoughts with ideas he couldn’t care less about. The Grade 3 curse slithers out of the shoe and wraps its gnarly wizened wings through the laces. Suguru could take the curse so the next wearer doesn’t end up in the ICU with damaged legs like previous owners—
But who is Suguru to play god?
“Hellllooooo~” He turns his head to meet a boy the same height as him, slouching and hands in his pockets. His eyes are covered by a black dirt-cheap glasses and platinum hair falls on his forehead. With the loosely wrapped fabric around his back and rusting chains from the belt around his pants, Suguru thinks he's a drug dealer.
Not that Suguru cares.
It’s only when the boy continues to speak to him, waving intensely in a cartoonish manner, gesturing with unnatural body movements does Suguru decide to speak to him. He waits until the chorus of the song- a repetitive rhythm of drums and guitar- finishes.
“…Yes.”
The boy clasps his hands together, clapping and giving him a celebratory whistle. Mystery boy is mocking him, Suguru thinks. He doesn’t understand this boy. “So you do speak! Boy — man, seriously that was a relief y’know? I thought you were like deaf or something but thennnnn, I saw the earbuds and then I was like ‘Is he mute?’ which is totally fine too…y’know?”
“Okay.”
The boy tilts his head, lowering it down. “You’re super interesting. I haven’t met anyone like you!”
And wow. The boy’s eyes are a pretty diamond white. It’s not grey, but luminescent on its own, creating a whole universe with the swirls of white and specs of azure. Suguru kind of wants to write poetry about it. He wants to trace the silhouette of the boy's irises and carve them in the stars for history to remember. It's mesmerising.
The boy blinks, and Suguru realises that even his eye lashes are coated in snow, curled upwards and out, a contrast with red doll-like lips.
“Are you a cosplayer?” Suguru asks. He’s not well-versed with modern shows nor the old ones. He doesn’t check the news either but this guy’s pretty freaking talented if he got to look like the male lead for a rom-com.
“Eh? That’s a first. Nah.” The boy waves off. “What song are you listening to?”
“Nothing.”
“I haven’t heard of a song with ‘Nothing.’ “ The boy brings out his phone, the brand new model which cost a million yen. Suguru was sure there were ten in stock in Japan. So, he’s a rich boy. Probably plastic surgery. “Who’s it by?”
“No. Stop minding my business.”
The boy pouts. “What’s the song about?”
Suguru pauses at that. “I don’t know.”
"Booooring! You gotta tell me what it's about okay? Okay?"
Suguru's eyes fall onto the curse who is wriggling inside the laces, its slimy residue staining the torn leather.
"Is that bothering you?" The boy points at the curse, freakishly long fingers poking its eyeballs, presing it hard enough that puss starts oozing out.
"Y-you can see them?" Suguru blinks. The boy nods. An affirmation.
"Want me to get rid of it?"
Suguru shrugs.
"Why won't you exorcize it?"
"Excuse me?"
"You have a lot of cursed energy. You can beat this thing without lifting a finger."
"I'm not god."
"Why not?"
"I'm not untouchable."
Suguru shakes his head. He sighs and turns around. When he reaches the counter, he hears the boy yell out a goodbye.
Suguru exits the store.
Why not? The boy's words echo in his head. Because there exists a natural cycle of life. And who is Suguru to disrupt that?
The strong protect the weak. The rich give the poor. The old will die and youth lives on. The sun rises when the moon sets.
White eyelashes. Suguru thinks. He has white eyelashes.
They say love is happenstance, an inevitable epiphany of realization which fills your heart with fireworks. Later, Suguru decides he found love in iridescent eyes and plush red lips under the roof of a run-down thrift store.
It would have been easier, Suguru thinks. If I never met Satoru .
Satoru wishes he never met Suguru. He wouldn’t have been an idiot and fall in love with him.
The train is loud, but the giggles and whispers pass through Suguru like static- given how he’s resting his head on the window, breathing slowly so his stomach wound doesn’t tear further. Clenching his fingers, and rubbing his temple, Satoru looks over to his friend, envious.
He hates the sensory overload his technique gives him.
As much as Satoru doesn’t want to admit, the three special grades were a bit of a pain in the ass ( a bit. Not alot mind you) and the bruises that litter his skin is proof enough. He hunches over, squeezing himself and blocking his ears with fingers, hoping wishing that everything could go away.
God. It hurt so fucking bad. His eyes were burning. Feeding him an onslaught of the spots of the ladybug crawling on the ceiling, the pattern of spider silk woven on the adjacent seat, the exact number of curses and how dangerous they are is filling his mind. I’m a god, Satoru thinks. I’m a god and gods don’t get hurt so why was he so damn weak? His hands reach up to cover his face, close his eyes and squeezes his shoulders into his ears because it h urts it hurts it hurts-
Something soft weaves through his hair, pulling his head into Suguru’s lap. He squints, attempting to open his eyes and look at Suguru. He likes looking at Suguru. Satoru doesn’t know why.
Maybe it’s because Suguru’s his first friend?
Suguru holds his face, throwing his hands over his eyes. He sighs- the long sigh when he’s unable to verbalise his thoughts. “Satoru.” He murmurs softly- tenderly- before removing his fancy headphones and untangling the cord.
Satoru refuses to answer because his best friend was probably going to start ranting and lecturing him about how he should always ask for stupid help-
“Satoru, you did well.”
“Eh?”
“You did well today.” Suguru’s almost done untying the last knot. “You managed to do Purple and even if it wasn’t complete, you got it.” Suguru puts the head phones over Satoru’s. “It’s noise cancelling. And you’ll still hear some sound, most of it muffled and you're probably reading my lips.” He articulates slowly.
Thoughtful, Satoru thinks. Suguru is so thoughtful. Satoru likes it. He nods.
“Okay. You probably forgot to grab a spare glass didn’t you, Satoru?” Suguru chides softly, flicking his head while covering the other’s eyes with a spare handkerchief. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up when we reach the school.”
There’s this thing Satoru’s heart does at that moment. He doesn’t realise the hitch in his breath nor how his body instinctively relaxes at Suguru’s scent. Suguru feels safe, Satoru tells himself. Suguru’s home.
Slowly, the tension ebbs away. His hands intertwined with Suguru’s loosen as he drifts to unconsciousness.
Perhaps had he stayed awake for a minute, he would have listened to Suguru’s rapid heartbeat and the quiet ‘I love you,’ whispered in the middle of the night.
Shoko finds them, limbs tangled and sprawled across the bed in the medical room. Yaga-sensei tell her that the mission was a hard one. She snaps a quick picture and waits for her best friends to wake up.
“Sensei.”
“Yes, Shoko.”
“They… they really care for each other don’t they?”
Yaga sensei doesn’t say anything but they both know. They love each other, drawn to the other in orbit and stuck in a love-making dance under the midnight moon (even if they don’t know it).
They’ll never know. Not until one of them is dying on the cobblestone under the christmas snow.
Satoru once told Suguru he liked the smell of rain- the feeling of rain. Dancing strikes of lightning in the sky, bellowing thunder, the aroma of muddy soil and the serenity of dripping leaves and water puddles, butterflies huddling under the roofs taking shelter- Satoru loves the rain.
And Satoru loves Suguru too. Even if he consciously doesn’t realise it.
Suguru tells him that the word he’s looking for is petrichor . It’s Satoru’s favourite word after ‘Sweets’, ‘Suguru’ and ‘Shoko’.
The pitter-patter of the rain reverberates through Satoru, goosebumps crawling up his skin as he feels the water hit his suit. Satoru stares at Suguru- his best friend is so damn pretty. He sees Suguru’s hair slowly becoming heavier and heavier as the rain falls, his neatly tied hand tumbling down past his shoulders and framing his face.
Satoru wants to cherish this moment of Suguru in the rain, fingers held out, cupping his hands together, collecting the raindrops and eyes fixated with wonder. His six eyes trace the way his chubby cheeks glow, teeth nibbling on his lower lips and the sharp intake of breath because it was beautiful. He was beautiful.
“Suguru,” Satoru calls out, striding forward and loosening the tie, discarding it and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt. “Dance.”
“Ain’t no way I’m doing that again,” Suguru frowns, shaking his head but Satoru is a man with a mission.
“I know but.” Satoru pauses. “I want you to dance with me in the rain because it’s fun and I’ve always wanted to do it and I have to do it with someone who I know who won’t judge me for asking them to dance with me in the rain y’know?” He quickly rushes, lowering his head, batting his eyelashes at Suguru. If he didn’t convince Suguru, his eyelashes should. Surely. Even Satoru couldn’t resist his eyelashes.
Suguru blinks. “Sure. I’ll dance with you.”
“Wait.” Suguru states, quickly drawing his hands in his pockets and pulling out an mp3 player and earphones. “They’re waterproof. And,” Suguru tilts his head to look at Satoru. “What’s dancing without music?”
“Where was this enthusiasm in the ball hm Suguru?” Satoru teases, swaying his body to the side, moving along to the slow rhythm, feet sliding across the sand. Suguru huffs, following Satoru..
Suguru, Satoru concludes, looks very nice when he smirks.
“There were too many people, Satoru. You know I don’t like people.” Suguru hums along, pulling Satoru closer. “God, we look like idiots.”
“So you’ll dance with me if no one’s there?” Satoru grins, standing on his toes and bringing his face closer to Suguru’s. He can see charcoal and the night’s galaxy swirling in Suguru’s eyes.
(Often Satoru thinks of Suguru when he sees the night sky. Suguru was like the midnight moon. He was purity shrouded in the clouds of hell we called reality. He had an idealistic perspective of the jujutsu world, doing righteous deeds after righteous deeds, refusing to see people die and always giving to the poor and smiling and being good . )
“I’m just doing this because you said you’ve always wanted to dance in the rain.” Suguru abruptly stops. “I can always st-”
“No!” Satoru pouts. “I wanna dance with you. I’ve seen friends dance with each other for fun. I wanna do it with my first friend.”
Suguru chuckles, shaking his head, raindrops trailing down his face and hair clinging on his shoulder. Suguru’s eyes are sparkling. “Friend?” Suguru whispers, “Okay.”
The sand seeps through their shoes, clothes drenched and Satoru lets out a series of tiny sneezes, rubbing his nose in his sleeves.
He’s so happy. Satoru doesn’t want this to end.
The rain comes as a million soul fragments, each raindrop containing curse residues and untold stories. One day . Satoru thinks. He wants his story etched into the grounds of the earth and carved into its rocks. And in his story, he wants Suguru in it .
“The first time I met you, I thought you were a cosplayer.” Suguru off-handley mentions, tightening his grip on Satoru. “Then you said it was natural and I concluded that it was plastic surgery.”
“I thought you were strong… the first time I met you. But you couldn’t convince others that what you saw was real so you decided to hide your potential.” Satoru says back, smiling.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’ve stopped suppressing what you think now. I like that about you.” Satoru sways when the chorus begins, and Suguru slowly spins Satoru. “I wanted to spin you!” He furrows his brows.
“Maybe next chorus.”
“What do you think?” Suguru says, his voice barely registering in Satoru’s head.
“Huh?”
“Of me now?”
Suguru halts and rubs his eyes before lacing his hands back with his best friend’s. “Human. I think of Satoru as a human, as my best friend, as my equal, and my one and only.” Suguru replies, “You may be a god to the jujutsu world, but to me… you .” Suguru pauses. “You’re my best friend.”
And then,
There’s an itch in his throat, and he feels something growing in his lungs and his heart feels squashed. But Satoru looks at Suguru and continues to dance, unable to make sense of what that horrible feeling was.
“Suguru,” Satoru says, his voice uncharacteristically soft and resigned. “I don’t want to talk about it because if I talk about it, that means it mattered. Matters.” He mumbles, flipping over to a new blank page. “If it matters that means its real and if its real that means I’m going to have to face it.”
“We can face it together.” Suguru replies back, hand reaching out to his.
“No.” Satoru denies. “If it isn’t real, it won’t hurt. No. I won’t let it hurt. I’m not human. I’m Gojo Satoru.”
Instead of saying something, Suguru looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, and lips curling inward slightly. He looks away for a moment, eyes glancing over the sticky notes littered on his window. Then, “You’re human to me Satoru.”
“Not to the world I’m not.”
“You’re here. In Jujutsu Tech and away from the elders in your clan. You’re here. With me and Shoko and Nanami and Haibara. You’re here. Not in the outside world.” Suguru places his forehead on his best friend’s “You’re here. I’m here. It’s just the two of us here.”
Satoru looks at him, as if he’s trying to detect any malice or untruth in Suguru’s words. He pulls back, and grabs the ink pen. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Satoru smiles. “Okay.” He removes the cap. “Then, I guess. You’ll be there when I fall?”
“ If . Not when , Satoru. You’re the last person I think of when it comes to leaving Jujutsu- or to be more precise, ‘humanity.” Suguru sighs. “Even if you don’t realise it yet.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, dumbass. You. Besides, you’ll be there if I fall?”
“I’ll always be there, Suguru. We’re always together aren’t we?” Satoru says. “Like you said, it’s just us. You’re my one and only best friend.”
“That’s so cringy dude.”
“ S’ only with you.”
Suguru ruffles his hair. “You’re my one and only, too.”
“For real?”
“For real.”
“Now solve this question.”
Suguru grimaces. “I don’t get why we’re learning physics when we’re supposed to be exorcising curses, Satoru.”
Satoru flicks his forehead. “Because, you need to know the reason why jujutsu bends reality’s laws without bending it. If you take my technique limitless, its based on convergence and divergence of an infinite series of actions-“
“I give up.”
“You can’t give up, Suguru.” Satoru chides. “You gotta pass this class if you want to take that special grade curse remember? The one we promised to take together.” Satoru peers over, tilting the question towards him. “Is light a wave or a particle? Explain. ”
“Both.” Suguru answers immediately.
“Why?”
“Because fuck you that’s why.”
(Shoko hears a very distant shrill scream from the dorms. Ah , she muses. Satoru’s teaching Suguru physics again. As long as she gets above Suguru, she knows she’s doing fine on her own.)
They finish studying four hours later, moon bleeding into the sunset and casting her soft gaze at the world preparing for bed. It takes time but Suguru understands the content, mostly- enough to pass the bloody test which won’t even help him. When he answers a question correctly, he sees Satoru smile widely, patting his back and moving on to the next one until the entire 40 pages are complete.
“You’ll have to solve ‘em again, Suguru.”
“ Again ?!”
Satoru smirks. “Yeah. Again. If you wanna get decent grades.”
“Fine.” Suguru rolls his eyes.
“See ya~” Satoru waves his hand, walking towards the door. “Su! Gu! Ru! Chaaan~”
It’s 7pm, Satoru notes, making his way to the upper floor, towards his room. He thinks about the spider in the corner of the corridor that has been taking shelter for the past three days, concocting a prank to place it on Shoko’s hair tommorow.
Maybe…he could convince Suguru to ask Nanamin to cover for him when he goes shopping in Tokyo next week for sweets. He ran out of them an. Hour ago, sharing the last bits with Suguru. He’d have to milk off the clan’s money for all the shit they put him through, neglecting a six year old until they could manifest their powers and fight Second Grade Curses by the age of ten.
Not like he cares.
Satoru thinks back to Suguru’s hair. He let it open today, he thinks, smiling to himself. Suguru looked so cute with his hair open. His mind wanders to the sketches stuck to Suguru’s walls; charcoal blending in, colours basking in the glint of the moonlight. He’s so fucking talented, he muses, His best friend ’s so talented and pretty.
He brings up his hands to his chest. It’s been hurting a lot recently.
He walks over to his bed, rolling up his sleeves and begins to fold the pile of clothes from the laundry. The monochrome colours of his wardrobe helped Satoru with sensory overload, the subtle suggestion coming from Suguru one day after he complained about how bright everything was.
He thinks back to what Yaga-sensei told him last week about getting a hobby- something Satoru would like to do in his free time which isn’t at all related to jujutsu. He finds it hard- he wasn’t allowed freedom as a child. And sensei said shopping out of spite using the elder’s credit card was not a hobby which was just plain rude . The audacity.
He passes to his desk, arranging his books alphabetically, stacking it up on
the shelf. Satoru takes out his water bottle, pouring the rest of the water on Cactus, his pet cactus.
He doesn’t want to eat dinner, having already stuffing himself full from all the sweets. His chest was hurting. Barely, but Satoru could still feel it. It wasn’t even flu season.
Suguru-chan~
Thanks for helping me today. I really appreciate it Satoru.
Satoru peers over his phone reading the notification. Suguru was such a sweetheart.
Me
Yeah sure np
Suguru-chan~
I thought you would be asleep. Isn’t your bedtime 8??
Me
…was just going to.
Suguru-chan~
Sorry for disturbing you
Me
???don’t apologize lol i had to put an alarm anyways soooooooo
Suguru-chan~
Sometimes, the abysmal difference between your essays and texting skills baffle me to no end.
Me
SOMETIMES, it baffles me too. Uwu
Suguru-chan~
Anyways, Goodnight, Satoru.
Me
Night night!!
Suguru-chan~
See you tommorow.
Suguru-chan~
Sweet dreams. 😊
Me
🥹 u too!!!!!!!!!!!
Me
.can’t believe you used an emoji.
Suguru-chan~
I hope i used it right?
Me
Eh
Me
Byeeeee. Night!! Gonna sleep
Suguru-chan~
Yeah sure? Good Night Satoru.
Satoru switches his phone off, a wide grin on his face and glad he screenshotted it as soon as Suguru sent his very first emoji. Cute , Satoru thinks, Suguru’s so cute.
And then,
I bet he finds me annoying like everyone else for not being the perfect heir. What if Suguru’s just acting nice to me because he realised how lonely I am?
Finally,
What if Suguru doesn’t like me?
And it feels like everything suddenly, and nothing at all. His hands reach out to his throat where the itch spread, trying to breathe breathe breathe-
Why can’t he breathe?
Satoru gasps for air, his hands clenched into the blanket, crouched over, head bent down and eyes bulging out. Hastily he grabs his glasses, wearing it and covering his ears. It so much. It’s so much the pain is everywhere- in his throat, lungs and heart.
The coughing starts. It bubbles from his throat, loud and uncontrollable, choking him, jerking his body involuntarily . It feels like forever but when it subdues, his hands are covered with seeds and miniature flower buds.
He’s read about Hanahaki- how could he not? One of the maidens who raised him had it. His mother had it. And there were several undocumented cases of the diseases spreading around from the early years of jujutsu.
An illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. If the love is not returned, the flowers continue to grow inside the infected’s lungs, until the infected dies.
And it becomes so obvious. Satoru had Hanahaki. Satoru had Hanahaki Disease for his best friend.
Gojo Satoru is in love with his best friend.
It's a fluke. Satoru whispers before going to bed.
It's a prank. Satoru reminds himself before he forces himself to eat a morsel of bread.
Its a curse. Satoru wants to convince himself.
He’s not in love with Suguru. He’s not in love with him.
“I know.” Satoru murmurs back. “Gimme a minute. Gotta take a piss.”
(He’s hunched over the toilet, coughing out seeds and flower buds. Amongst, is a single tiny petal.
It’s a fluke.
It’s a fucking fluke.)
It happens like clockwork. Acceptance and all the gritty details of a feeling that Satoru is not used to. There isn’t acceptance that he was born to be the best nor in anything else. It’s always ever been a fact and a fact alone. There is nothing to come to terms to.
But it’s been a month and slowly, he feels the thorns and bones growing gardens of gladiolus’, etching itself into his heart and the reminder that he’s in love courses through his blood and reverberates in his soul.
After the denial, sadness begins to sink into his soul, crushing the silver thread of hope that maybe Suguru would like him back.
It’s after a movie night, when Suguru caress his face, ruffling his hair and placing Satoru’s sleepy head on his shoulder does Satoru realise that he doesn’t cough out seeds anymore. It’s flower buds and petals.
He’s going to die.
He’s going to die very soon
Protect Amanai and bring her to Tengen for the merge. That’s their mission but Satoru knows otherwise.
He’d have to die before he let someone lose their future to the elders.
Satoru dies. He doesn’t feel the pain anywhere; in his body covered in bruises, in his heart which stopped, in his lungs where the flowers grew. Instead, there’s a numbness he’s accustomed to- the kind he feels when he thrown into the isolation chamber when he failed to exorcise a curse in the clan, the kind when he realised no one was going to treat him normally, the kind he felt when Satoru knew Suguru would never love him.
Satoru was a dying man but-
But .
But there’s a curse Suguru’s fighting right now. Toji was going to Suguru, probably to kill him as well. Amanai was in danger and Satoru swore to protect the girl, so she could have a future she dreams of.
There’s a pulse which travels through his veins, and then a twitch and he reaches out to void he’s infinitely falling in and does the only thing embedded in his bones and carved into his name.
He gets up.
Reversed Curse Technique .
He has to protect Suguru.
One summer night, under the midnight moon, Satoru fell asleep hoping the world would be different when the sun rose. In the morning, when he opened his eyes the world was the same — the elders of the clan berated him for skipping morning training, gossip spread about the Limitless and Six Eyes impregnating a girl and he was scheduled a trip to America for jujutsu practice. That afternoon, he receives the news of his mother’s death.
He didn’t eat breakfast that day. Or the next. Or the day after. His heart grows numb, or perhaps , it had always been that way and Satoru just realised it.
Satoru can’t remember picking up Amanai’s body, wrapping her wounds so the blood doesn’t seep through the fabric and staining his hands. He can’t remember cupping the young girl’s face and holding it close to his heart. He can’t remember whispering apologies of I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you I’m sorry . He can’t remember walking down the rat-infested stairs and creaking chandeliers, opening the door while holding Amanai’s dead body in his arms.
He does remember thinking where the world descended into madness. Where cages confined growth and suppress the youth of potential. Satoru’s fist clenches, the praises from the non-shaman and claps filling his eyes and clogging his heart full of hatred. His eyes look at the covered corpse in his arms, pulling it closer to him.
What did the girl do to you? Satoru wants to ask them. She’s only fourteen. She’s a child. She had a future Satoru was willing to protect because it was her life dammit!
He takes small steps towards the entrance. There are ashes in his throat and thorns around his lungs and the ugliness of this world claws his soul and throttles his heart.
When Amanai’s bracelet falls to the ground, an old lady kicks it, stomping her foot over the beads. The people next to her merely join in, ruining what little a child had precious to hold.
Whatever, Satoru thinks. It’ll all be fine. We’re the strongest. Suguru’s here. Everything is going to be fine.
“You’re late Suguru.” He pauses trying to shut down is brain into thinking. Thinking wasn’t good. He was supposed to obey the higher ups because they know best. But when has Satoru followed the rules? “No, I think you’re early.”
Satoru lets his guard down. Suguru was here.
Suguru was safe.
“The star cult owns many buildings in this city, after all.”
He sees Suguru’s eyes widen, eyes staring at him in disbelief without a reply. Suguru’s heart is beating faster, Satoru can feel it.
Then,
“You’re Satoru… right?”
A moment passes.
Satoru’s voice comes out ragged. He swallows the blood filling his throat. Suguru looked so beautiful. “You went to Shoko right?”
“Yeah, she fixed me up.” Suguru murmurs, approaching Satoru. Don’t come near me. Satoru pleads with his eyes. Suguru’s eyes move ove Amanai’s pale hands dangling down, trickle of blood dripping.
“…no.” His eyebrows crease together, “It doesn’t matter that I’m fine.”
It matters to me if your fine, Satoru thinks. I don’t deserve him. Satoru was weak. He didn’t deserve someone strong like Suguru.
He meets Suguru’s eyes. “I messed up,” Satoru admits. His cruel heart wrenches itself for Suguru. “It’s not your fault.”
Suguru neither confirms or denies. His response would have been the same either way. “…let’s go back.”
With every breath Satoru takes, the petals suffocate his lungs and strangle his heart. There are vines wrapped around his ribs and thorns poking out. He was a dying man so—
“Suguru.”
“Yeah?”
“Should we kill these guys?” A kill-on-sight execution wouldn’t be any less different from his fate. Satoru was a dying man. This way at least, he could get revenge for a little girl without a tomorrow.
“If we do it now, I probably won’t feel a thing,”
“Nah.” Suguru whispers back, eyes transfixed on the marble pavement. “There’s no meaning in doing that.”
Suguru continues. “As far as I can tell, there’s only non-shaman cultists here. The main offenders who know our side should have already run away.” Satoru nods , Suguru was right. Suguru’s always right. Satoru was the stupid and immature person here. “They can’t escape from the current situation, unlike from the bounty case. They were a problematic organization to begin with…so they’ll be dismantled soon enough.”
The claps get louder, a big genuine smile on the faces of the people who praised murder of a child. Satoru was a dying man. There wasn’t any meaning in living another day with Suguru. If Satoru left now, Suguru wouldn’t be affected when he died alone.
“Meaning…” Blue eyes glance up at the sky. “Is that… really necessary?”
“It’s very important…especially for shamans, Satoru.”
You said ‘it was important to shamans’ but what about you, Suguru? Satoru wants to ask. I asked what you thought about this.
The conversation ends. Amanai Rika is dead and Satoru and Suguru are the strongest.
Many things change after Toji, Rika and the entire Star Plasma Vessel mission. And somehow, nothing changes.
The three of them were sitting on the chairs in Shoko’s new clinic. It was unconventional to allow a sixteen year old the authority over the medical aspects of the school but jujutsu was unconventional.
Shoko spares them a glance, shaking her head at the pathetic sight of her friends. The clinic was quiet— not that Shoko didn’t appreciate it but the silence wasn’t welcomed with Suguru and Satoru. Especially with them.
“Suguru…Satoru…just—” Shoko mumbles, unable to find the right words to comfort them. “I’ll be back. Don’t touch or do anything stupid.”
“..Kay.” Suguru impassively says, eyes drifting along the room. Satoru’s eyes are clenched tight, fists balled up in his head and Shoko can see his legs tremble. She doesn’t want to see her boys like this. She can’t .
It hurts seeing them so…quiet.
“I don’t have the glasses you use Satoru. I’ll get something opaque for your eyes.” She opens the door. “I’ll have some throat lozenges prepared for you, Suguru. Stay here.”
The clock ticks— Suguru plays with the laces on his shoes, rubbing the torn soles over the tiles, hands fiddling with a piece of Amanai’s dress. His hands hover Satoru’s face on his lap but he holds against it. Satoru is crying. The tiny muffles and sniffles came out raspy. There wasn’t anything beautiful about Satoru crying. Satoru looked beautiful with his face stuffed with candy and a big smile.
He reaches for his pocket, removing a packet of Awadame and intertwine his fingers with Satoru’s, gently placing the candy in his palms. “ Don’t — don’t cry Satoru.”
Satoru peers up, eyes red and blown wide. “It’s not your fault, Satoru. C’mon I know you’ve done your best— we’ve done our best and we shouldn’t feel guilty of the unavoidable. It was an entire cult with far more experienced jujutsu sorcerers against us. Don’t feel bad, Satoru. Okay?” Suguru whispers, ignoring the voice cracks. “We’re the strongest y’know? We beat em’ all in the end. But we can’t save everybody. Life doesn’t end with rainbows. Satoru…We’re the strongest alright?”
Suguru pats Satoru’s head, ruffling his hair. “But we’re also kids. We’re still kids so don’t beat yourself okay? You're perfect and strong and I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing Sato —”
And Suguru hears a choke, a gurgled blood-curdling cough croaks out of Satoru and Satoru - Satoru’s hands grip his own throat, eyes almost bulging and he looks horrified.
“Satoru?” Suguru asks him. Did something happen which Satoru or Shoko didn’t heal? “Satoru! What happened?”
Fuck.
Satoru should’ve known. He should’ve known when he decided to lay against Suguru’s lap because Suguru was safe. Suguru was home. When Suguru praises him, his traitorous heart jumps in its cages and he briefly wonders how his best friend’s lips would taste against his own.
And then his blue eyes widen as the realization slaps him. Nononononono— not in front of Suguru.
Because right now, he wanted Suguru to kiss him. He wanted Suguru to hold him and tell him that he was okay. That was still the strongest and he wasn’t weak. He wanted Suguru’s lips over his own and wanted Suguru’s lips to move and lick his own and feel his sharp teeth nibble on his lips.
His eyes snapped open to meet Suguru’s gaze once more. They were so close. So damn close .
His heartbeat grew faster and louder, rattling against his ribs, his lungs burning with overwhelming desire to hold Suguru and kiss him.
Satoru wants and wants and wants . But unlike the tri-coloured dango with syrup dripping down and the cheap multicoured pebbles in tourist shops he passes by after a mission he desires and gets, and yet-
Satoru can't have Suguru.
Then, there was a stab in the space between his lungs and a fragrance in his nose and mouth.
Suguru couldn’t feel the same way. He wouldn’t.
His blood turns cold and his eyes narrow, shivering under Suguru’s touch.
“Get off.”
Suguru blinks. “What?”
“Get off.” Satoru repeats once more, his voice barely able to spit out the words. He’s barely coherent, energy drained from mastering his reversed cursed technique. He scrambles to his feet, clutching onto his chest. It hurts so bad he wants to scream. This was bad. Suguru— Suguru couldn’t know.
“Wha—wait! Satoru what the hell man— C’mon,” Suguru jumps to his feet, holding Satoru by his hands. Why was Suguru holding onto him? Couldn’t he see that Satoru had to leave? He— he had to! “Satoru, what’s wrong? I’m worried.”
“Fucking let go of me Suguru!” His voice grates like sandpaper. The blood bubbles up his windpipe and his eyes water. The petals scratch his insides. He pulls his hands with all he’s god but Suguru doesn’t budge. He tastes metal on his teeth. “Please—” Satoru gasps out. “Let’s go!”
Suguru’s grip tightens over his wrist. “Why the fuck would I do that? You’re hurt! Satoru, tell me what’s wrong?” Suguru lunges forward to grab Satou who topples over, falling on his knees and his hands pressing over his throat.
Suguru tries again, gentler. “Satoru. Satoru what’s goi—” He sees the moment Satoru lets go of himself, head banging on the floor tiles and he starts coughing hysterically.
And once Satoru starts coughing, it doesn’t stop.
Satoru knows this. He knows this so much it hurts.
It was worse, felt worse than anything else he had experienced. His lungs burn for oxygen, clammy forehead and limbs shaking. He shudders, stomach churning and his ears are ringing.
Instead of flower buds, he hacks out petals, convulsing against the cold floor. Make it stop, he thinks . Please makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop
And then he hears it. “Sa— Satoru.” Suguru’s voice pierces through his skin like glass. “Satoru what the fuck us going on?”
In an instant, Satoru’s eyes shoot up, staring at Suguru who looks void of any emotions.
“…leave.” He manages to croak out. He shuts his eyes, hoping that it’s just a bad dream. “Get out, Suguru, get the fuck out.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. “
I’m in love with you so the heavens and the stars cursed me for it. “Fuck off.”
A gasp at the doorway has both boys turning their head from their crouched position. Shoko points a trembling finger at the petals mixed with blood and her eyes wander towards Satoru.
“Hanakaki?” She whispers. “ Satoru — Satoru you have…”