Chapter Text
“Honestly, being under Gojo’s tutelage isn’t…that bad.” Maki pauses as she brushes off some stray lint from her tracksuit. “It’s just the one year and he isn’t the strongest just because of his inherited techniques. Piss-poor attitude though.”
Kugisaki nods vigorously in agreeance. “Gojo-sensei’s so unreliable! He’s such a weird guy. Makes me want to hammer in his face.”
“You think he’s annoying now? Wait until he starts talking about him. It’ll get so much worse. The midnight dates and all the shenanigans and all the blubbering mooning over hair and eyes and—”
“Him?”
“Yes, him. Mass murderer Geto. Annoying bastard. Kind of cuckoo.”
Maki throws out her arms in a grandiose display of playacting. “‘Amazing! I AM CURRENTLY!! DEEPLY MOVED!!! THE BEAUTY OF JUJUTSU SORCERERS SACRIFICING THEIR LIVES TO SAVE EACH OTHER—I HAVE SUCH RESPECT—WHAT HONOR’ that kind of thing. Crazy individual.”
“W-What? Who? Who even—”
“Don’t ask me who he is—you’ll find out soon enough.”
“But, Maki-san—”
“Bye.” Maki flashes them a peace sign without looking at the two of them, continuously marching forward to the training grounds for her daily rounds of beating up Panda.
“What was that all about?” Kugisaki grumbles, squinting after Maki’s retreating visage. “Not like Maki-san to be so elusive.”
“She’s just poking fun.” Megumi blinks down at Kugisaki. “And honestly, it is strange that you haven’t heard Gojo-sensei talk about Geto yet. Though I guess it’s only been a few days.”
Kugisaki’s jaw drops open before her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Fushiguro? You know about this Geto guy already?”
Megumi feels his face darkening into a grimace.
“Unfortunately.”
“Then tell me about him! If Maki-san was—”
“No. You can learn about him yourself. The same way all of us had to.”
Kugisaki’s face contorts into a murderous sort of scowl. “Tell me.”
“Will not. Bye.” He gives her a comforting little bye-bye wave before peacefully walking off. Today was a nice day.
Really, Kugisaki will be learning about Geto sooner rather than later. Best she can enjoy as much time as she can as an ignorant person.
Anyone who has the misfortune to be around Gojo for any length of time that can be considered an “extended period of time” will know who Geto Suguru is. It’s an absolute given to get to know Gojo—you’re not just learning about Gojo, you’re learning about Geto too. A two-in-one, so to speak.
“Morals are pretty important to have as a jujutsu sorcerer!” Gojo says brightly, slamming a pointer against a blackboard that’s mostly filled with odd doodles but also huge, blocky kanji reading out “THE MANY PROS AND EVEN MORE NUMEROUS CONS OF HAVING MORALS IN OUR PROFESSION.”
“Sensei, you’re the last person to be teaching us about this stuff.” Kugisaki doesn’t even bother looking up from where she’s using a nail to scratch…something into the underside of her desk.
Gojo merely grins at them. “Well, isn’t it quite too bad that I’m your only teacher then? You’re stuck with me! But fear not, I use my best friend to check my moral compass for me—it’s a very effective method.”
Oh no.
Megumi shoots out a hand to stop Kugisaki but he’s too far and she’s way too fast of a reactor.
“You actually have a best friend, Gojo-sensei?” she asks, flabbergasted. “I didn’t even think you had any friends.”
“Kugisaki, that’s like, kinda rude of you.” Itadori waves a finger at her.
“I have friends!” Gojo laughs, slapping at the board again as he ignores the two’s tussling. Megumi withers into his seat. “I do have friends. I have friends.”
Megumi arches an eyebrow at him. “Saying it thrice undermines the validity of your statement.”
“So rude, Megumi! But really, Suguru was my moral compass. He was so great! It’s really too bad he went genocidal.”
“Eh?” Kugsaki and Itadori both freeze in place, throwing matching expressions of shock at each other and then at Gojo. “What?”
Megumi tiredly rests his cheek against his desk.
The same old spiel again.
“He turned genocidal!” Gojo repeats, just as brightly as everything else he has said. “What, can’t hear me properly? I’ll talk louder if—”
“This…this Suguru guy is who you’re using to teach morals to us and he’s a guy who supports genocide?” Kugisaki shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“Yep. And who am I to blame him?” A dopey sort of smile settles onto Gojo’s face as he draws a heart around two of the doodles on the board. “He had some very compelling reasons. Others weren’t though! Which is why we’re discussing morals today. I’m just saying, be too moralistic and you’ll have a mental breakdown. Not enough morals and you’ll end up thinking it’s okay to kill people. Though if you’re of the latter case, it’s kind of okay if you’ve got a moral compass to guide you. Guess what kind of student I was.”
“Sensei,” Itadori raises a hand up in the air even as he talks, “I really don’t think there can ever be any sort of justification for genocide. It’s unjust! And you were the latter case!”
“Ten points to Yuuji-kun!” Gojo booms, dramatically directing his pointer at Itadori. “Absolutely right! Genocide is a big no-no. That’s why it’s good to take naps as a young sorcerer. Good sleep helps your mental state and a good mental state means you’re less likely to break out the genocidal tendencies. I should know—Suguru had the worst eye bags ever before he left. Worse than Yuuta-kun’s.”
Has to set a record if Geto had Okkotsu beat.
Megumi scoffs. “Didn’t you just say you didn’t blame Geto for committing genocide? God, who let you direct a classroom?”
Kugisaki’s eyebrows narrow thunderously. “Did you say Geto? That Geto?”
“Now now, Megumi-chan.” Gojo smiles down at them peacefully. “I said I didn’t blame him! That doesn’t equate to his actions being bad though. See now: Suguru good! Genocide bad. That’s why I had to kill him, it really doesn’t pan out.”
The three of them go silent. Not that Megumi wasn’t privy to these details already.
“Oh my god, he's dead already. Gojo-sensei, you really don’t have any friends anymore,” Itadori says with no small amount of mixed pity and horror.
“This explains so much,” Kugisaki mutters darkly before clearing her throat awkwardly. “Uh…sensei, are you…like…okay?”
This is the most sympathy Megumi has ever seen from Kugisaki. It’s impressive, really.
“It's okay to not be okay! Like, grief is not linear and all. That’s what they told me when my gramps died. Really—it’s okay if you’re not okay, Gojo-sensei!” Itadori vigorously nods his head along with Kugisaki.
“Hmm? Of course, I’m okay.” Gojo laughs again. “It’s been a full six months! Six months without Suguru living on this earth. I’m totally okay with thinking about that.”
Megumi’s eye twitches. “Are you? Really?”
“Of course I am!” Gojo laughs yet again, even more voraciously. “You think I could talk about him if I wasn’t? You’re so silly! Megumi-chan.”
-
It’s amazingly impressive how it took a full week of lessons for Gojo to mention the one and only Geto Suguru.
But after that, it’s as if a set of floodgates only known to Gojo has opened. Megumi doesn’t care enough to dwell upon why Gojo even held himself back, but he sure wishes he could have waited a bit longer.
“Suguru used to take me here for late-night ramen and taiyaki when our missions ended in the night,” Gojo will sigh happily while trying to figure out how exactly to position his long legs, crammed into a rickety barstool in the single most obscure hole-in-the-walls of Tokyo.
“Aww, look at those cats! Suguru used to say I looked like a cat sometimes.” This one always makes Megumi cringe.
“Hey! This is the crepe shop Suguru said he was going to right after he declared war on us. Inumaki-kun and Panda and Maki will recall. Hah, Suguru used to take me here too!” So Gojo likes to comment without fail while they pass through Takeshita en route to the curse hotspots in Harajuku.
“...Suguru used to like miso a lot.” Just like most of the Japanese population.
“This doll has purple eyes! Just like Suguru!”
“The KFC here in Shinjuku always brings back the worst memories! Me and Suguru had an epic falling out here, if you must know.”
“That lady’s wearing really baggy pants. Just like Suguru does.”
“What a badly designed poster. A cult, eh? Suguru ran a cult for a bit. More like a decade really, but who's counting?”
“I’ve never seen anyone with long hair as nicely maintained as Suguru’s—”
“Gauges just like Suguru used to—”
“You know if Suguru was here to teach martial arts we’d—”
“Suguru used to—”
“Back in the day, Suguru would—”
“Would you fucking shut up about Geto?” Megumi finally hisses one day, completely fed up with Gojo’s incessant talk about that man. “The guy’s already dead. Talking about him is fine and all, but the way you talk it’s like he’s going to pop around the corner. Surprise surprise: he’ll never be at the crepe shop again.”
Gojo stares at him in deep silence, smile gone. “But Suguru was there before.”
“That’s not—I’m not—” Megumi grinds his teeth so hard he can feel the tension for his future headaches being created right now, right here. “You’re talking about that man an awful lot. And I mean more than usual.”
“Am I?” Gojo hums, continuing to sort out his laundry. Black shirt here, another black shirt there, a white shirt, another white shirt, a ginormous oversized white shirt, another black shirt. All of these items probably cost upwards of fifteen thousand yen. “Perhaps I’m just feeling sentimental. That time of year, maybe.”
“Before when I—” Megumi purses his lips together, “—when we were living in the same household, you’d talk about Geto a lot. But not like this. Just the occasional mention. Maybe a session here and there where you didn’t know what it means to shut the fuck up. But this is insane behavior, of late.”
“Aww, Megumi cares enough to comment?” Gojo folds one last shirt before scooping up the pile of clothes and clambering out of the washroom. Megumi drops down from where he’s been sitting on an inoperative dryer and follows suit. “But really, Megumi, there’s no need for concern! And you don’t know anything, still so young! You don’t have to—”
“Don’t have to what, exactly? Because whatever it is, all of us feel it,” Megumi says passively, unemotionally. “Even Ieri-sensei looks at us funny whenever you’re in the back, yapping on and on about Geto.”
“Eurgh, Shoko,” Gojo sneers, trying to flap a hand around in dismissal but simply ending up making a huge mess of his clothes without the double support. “Shit—didn’t mean to do that.”
Megumi watches as Gojo’s shirts tumble to the ground one by one. “Ieri-sensei would have been in the same year as you and Geto, wouldn’t she? She’s clearly not crazy about the thought of Geto like you are, despite the fact that you three were the only students in your class.”
“Wow, Megumi. That’s really inconsiderate. Me and Suguru were like this—” Gojo interlocks two fingers tightly together, “—if me and Shoko are besties, me and Suguru were like…soulmates. Yeah! Soulmates. That sounds good.”
Megumi slowly feels an impending sense of doom much equivalent to his already preexisting feeling of nausea. “You? Soulmates? With genocidal mass murderer cult leader curse user thinks non-sorcerers are monkeys can and will attack students killed his parents Geto Suguru? I’m not sure how I feel about having you as my teacher and legal guardian anymore.”
“Hey, kid, it’s too late now, anyways. Suguru wouldn’t have killed any of the students here anyhow, trust me. And besides, you’ve been learning valuable lessons from Suguru! Life lessons and otherwise. Don’t commit mass murder, don’t kill your parents, needing to fight in close quarters as a shikigami user—and how exactly to do so, just look at Maki!”
“Maki-senpai? I don’t—”
“Megumi,” Gojo grins at him with a smirk just barely edging the corners of his mouth, “why do you think Maki-chan is as good at using Playful Cloud as she is?”
“...I’m not going to answer that.”
“Heh, another lesson learned: recognize a losing battle when it’s happening. And I'll answer anyways: she remembers exactly how Suguru fought with that weapon. The amazing power of trauma. ” Gojo laughs again before going quiet, studiously observing the way the smooth fabric of one of his shirts passes through the pads of his fingers. “Suguru knew he was fighting a losing battle, he was too smart to not have known otherwise. Just had certain opinions, beliefs. Led him to where he is now.”
Where he is now? Megumi thinks sullenly. Oh. Oh.
Dead in a ditch is where Geto Suguru is now.
“Gojo-sensei,” he starts uncomfortably, “are you—”
“But hey! That’s all in the past!” Gojo lackadaisically continues to prance through the hallways, shirts back in proper order. “And why I’m a teacher. Would be great if we didn’t have any more young sorcerers dying or otherwise going about killing people because of bad school environments. More Satorus and Sugurus together instead of Satorus and Sugurus apart.”
Megumi follows him uneasily, keeping pace with Gojo’s brisk stride. He doesn’t bother to say anything.
“It’d have been nice,” Gojo says dreamily, “to have another day with Suguru again. I think that’d be fun.”
He stops skipping so suddenly that Megumi nearly crashes into Gojo—but he doesn’t, and simply stands there, staring at Gojo’s back.
Gojo turns at smiles gently at Megumi, who flinches at the wholly unexpected and extremely rare sight.
“In any case, my six eyes tell me it’s time to take a nap.”
Then Gojo bursts out into laughter as he’s always prone to and turns the corner, voice echoing in the aged corridors.
-
“I can’t possibly be the only one here who thinks Gojo-sensei was—well is—into Geto.”
“No but Kugisaki, you’re so right!” Itadori snaps his fingers at her in agreeance. “Gojo-sensei really seems like he had a big crush on Geto-san.”
They both turn to Megumi in unison, and he promptly frowns at them and shies back. “What?”
“Fushiguro,” Kugisaki croons, “you lived with the guy. What say you? A crush or was it love? Don’t tell me it was only platonic, that guy’s been doodling him and Geto surrounded by hearts on the class boards way too many times for that to be true.”
Megumi very seriously contemplates the remaining half of his hamburger. “Am I allowed to sit out of this conversation?”
“No,” Itadori replies sweetly. He passes the fries over as if in apology for the debate ahead.
“And c’mon, Fushiguro. You’ve got to admit this is way more interesting than listening to another Gojo seminar extraordinaire on the hypothetical situations Geto could have gotten into in his time as a cult leader curse collector. Insane behavior, truly. Gojo-sensei could have just called him or something.”
“Would you call a guy on the jujutsu criminal list? The most wanted, at that. And well, I think it’s complicated.” Megumi studies a fry.
“Their relationship? Complicated how?” Kugisaki scoffs. “It’s just one thing or the other. Hell, flip a coin. It’s not like we’ll know.”
“I don’t mean it that way. I’m just saying, do you think Gojo-sensei’s the sort of guy who would know himself if he’s just got a crush or if he’s actually in love? And it’s not as if Geto’s—well—here anymore so that we can actually have any sort of confirmation on the matter.”
“Fushiguro, don’t bring up the guy’s death—it makes me sad.” Itadori sighs deeply, one hand supporting his head tiredly while the other grabs blindly at the fries. He does actually look somewhat depressed, like this.
“You literally don’t even know the guy. You’ve never met him and never will. You know him as a mass murderer.”
“And as the guy who bought sweets for Gojo-sensei even though Gojo-sensei was the only one who liked sweets and always laughed at Gojo-sensei’s jokes and bought hairclips for Gojo-sensei and—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” Megumi stops him with a raised hand. “Fine. He’s more than just the bad guy, I get it.”
“Fushiguro, you still haven’t told us what you think about him and Gojo-sensei.”
“...I truly have no thoughts on the matter. I’ve never thought about it.”
“But Fushiguro—”
“Kugisaki, he’s telling the truth.”
Megumi nods at Itadori gratefully. “He really has never talked about Geto in this sort of way in the years I’ve known him.”
They all stare at each other in a somewhat awkward silence, partially mitigated by the still half-full takeout boxes.
“So what?” Itadori finally breaks the silence. “We’re just gonna drop the matter? Or—”
“Nuh-uh.” Kugisaki reaches out and flicks open one of her drawers, revealing an extremely dense folder which she promptly takes out and drops heavily onto the ground. A small poof of dust arises.
Megumi pokes at the topmost paper. “What’s all this? You finally decided academics are your thing?”
“Shut up, Fushiguro. These are Gojo-sensei and that other guy’s records. Mostly student records.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Megumi spits out. “You stole records from the school? Gojo’s records? He’s gonna laugh at us like a hyena before killing us—no, he’ll still be laughing while he kills us.”
Itadori balks as he reads the title text, recognizing the names. “Kugisaki! How did you—where did you—oh my god, we’re gonna get in some much trouble for this—”
“No, we aren’t. Maki-san was the one who got them.”
He and Itadori both shut up. Maki never does a shoddy job.
“I guess if it’s Maki-senapi…”
“What’s Maki-senpai doing stealing papers for you? She’s always either off being a gym rat or slouching on some couch or another binging a shitty show with the worst fast food known to humankind.”
Kugisaki leers at the two of them. “Secret between me and Maki-san.”
“...It’s Maki-senpai after all.”
Itadori silently and with measured precision opens up the first packet, a stony expression decorating his face. His eyes quickly scan the page before he flips to the next page, and then again, and again, and again.
It takes the three of them rifling through the papers for a good fifteen minutes before they chance upon anything.
“Hey—Fushiguro-kun, Kugisaki, look at this.”
Megumi and Kugisaki crowd over Itadori’s shoulders, peering down at the papers.
Picture a scan of a somewhat wrinkled, badly treated set of classwork papers. Title: Gojo Satoru. Subject: Mathematics. The top of the paper has neatly printed text reading out the problem, and then there’s simply a massive, sprawling, crooked mass of chicken scratch characters rattling off the answer.
The blank spaces of the page are more interesting though: love umbrellas with none other than Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru under them, love umbrellas with Geto Satoru and Geto Suguru on them, love umbrellas with Gojo Satoru and Gojo Suguru on them. GS + GS. Satoru + Suguru. Very familiar chibi doodles of some guy with bad hair with hearts surrounding him. What appears to be an attempt at capturing what should be a rather handsome man’s side profile but just ended up being a horridly childish attempt at pretending to be a master of art.
“Woah,” Itadori traces the lines of one of the love umbrellas with an index finger, “Gojo-sensei had a huge, fat crush on Geto-san when they were students.”
“Look at this stuff!” Kugisaki cackles, flipping through the pages and slapping down random fingers on even more random stray bits of text. “Gojo’s post-mission reports: ‘Me and Suguru went out for ice cream while waiting for the target. The ice cream was just okay. Suguru was especially courteous when making the order for us. He looked really nice today.’ You guys writing this sort of shit in your case reports? This stuff is hilarious.”
Megumi’s face betrays nothing as he silently reads his own paper. My plans for the future are to become the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the entirety of the world along with Suguru. Not that I’m not already, I just need to make sure everyone knows we’re the strongest. It’d be nice to get married someday. I like people with long, dark hair and dark eyes and interesting bangs and gauges and cool fashion taste and—
“I think we’ve invaded Gojo-sensei’s privacy for much too long, much too deeply.” Megumi neatly tucks his paper back into the stack before forcefully ripping away Kugisaki’s own paper. Itadori simply hands over his without resistance.
“Hmph.” Kugisaki mullishly picks at a well-manicured finger. “Only sensei would still be mooning over some guy who left him just to commit murder and then just straight up got killed by him.”
“And that’s exactly why we’re not going to think about this anymore.” Megumi closes the folder and shoves it back into the drawer. “Like I said before, there’s nothing we can do about it. He’s dead, it’s not like Gojo-sensei’s pathetically pining over some guy he can actually date. And we’re not obliged to help him with his love life—we’re his students, for god’s sake.”
“I mean—Fushiguro—you’re right and all, but it’s so sad. Gojo-sensei really is so happy sometimes when he talks about Geto-san.” Itadori pauses in contemplation. “Well, he’s kinda weird most of the other times but he’s really, really happy when he can talk about Geto-san.”
“Hmm,” Megumi thoughtfully considers Itadori, staring at the other. “In any case, I wouldn’t be so quick to discount Gojo-sensei. That guy’s got his feelings in better shape than any of us would think. Probably.”
“You think so?”
“At the least, he’s still able to smile honestly when talking about Geto.”
“Sensei! You promised you’d pay for the snacks this time.” Kugisaki yells, one hand poised in the air and another rested on a jutted-out hip. “No takebacks this time!”
“We promise not to overload your credit card!” Itadori yells along with her, mirroring her pose.
“I know, I know—you three could learn a bit of patience, jeez.” Satoru fusses with his wallet. It’s brand new, he’s still relearning where everything is. “Keep this up and next time you guys are on your own. And you can’t report it to Yaga when your sensei can just say he’s giving you free reign and independence.”
“What did I do to be lumped into this?” Megumi grumbles, before being thwacked by both Kugisaki and Itadori.
“We’re going up ahead to order!” Itadori yells, already starting to walk as he wraps an arm around Megumi’s shoulder to drag him along. “We’ll get something for you too, Gojo-sensei!”
“Knew I could count on you, Yuuji-kun.” His volume is too low for the others to have heard, but then it quiets completely as he thumbs through his stack of cards.
“Arcade, Kandagawa gift card, jujutsu ID, driver’s license, where the hell is my—ah.”
Satoru goes still as he looks down at an old but still well-preserved picture—and he smiles.
Him, Suguru, the stars. Him planting a kiss on Suguru’s cheek. Suguru smiling with one eye crinkled shut and the other halfway there but still just barely open and very evidently casting a fond gaze over at him. The stars were especially pretty that night, lots of colors.
Hehe. Satoru smiles down softly at the picture and gives himself another few seconds before carefully tucking it into the leftmost transparent pocket of the wallet and drawing out his credit card from another.
“Gojo-sensei! Where are you? We need to pay now!”
“Coming, coming.”
And then he tucks the wallet—and the picture—back into his pocket before making his way over to his students.
-
Shibuya’s a beautiful and rather complex sort of place to be, or at least it would be if it wasn’t tonight.
Though arguably, Shibuya is even more complex and interesting tonight for the incidents occurring here, though all the more horrifying for it.
Especially right now, Yuuji thinks somewhat blankly, as he listens to Mechamaru’s voice, even more mechanical in nature when heard through the filter of the speaker.
“Gojo Satoru has been sealed.”
It only takes Yuuji about three seconds to run his way down the Fukutoshin Line Platform—and there he is: Gojo-sensei himself. And with him is—
“OH MY GOD! IT’S THAT MAN!” Yuuji yells excitedly as he lays eyes on a guy with Buddhist robes and extremely long, half-tied black hair. “IT’S GETO SUGURU!”
He hurriedly and somewhat messily slams down onto his emergency button. “Oh my god—oh my god—Fushiguro, Kugisaki—you’ve got to come over. I’m down at the north end of the Fukutoshin Line and you’ll never believe who I’m seeing.”
“What? Who?” Kugisaki’s tinny voice blares out from the small speaker. “Itadori, we don’t have time for this. I’m kinda busy here.”
Fushiguro’s speaker only outputs equally tinny sounds, but those of fighting.
“Noooo, but you two definitely have got to come over here. It’s Geto Suguru! The man himself. Isn’t he dead already? Gojo-sensei said he killed him. But wow, I guess only a guy who’s a match for Gojo-sensei could survive Gojo-sensei’s techniques. It’s him!”
Silence from both ends.
“I’m on the way.”
“I’m coming.”
His conversation with the other two has appeared to have caught the attention of Gojo and Geto if the somewhat bemused quiet from their side and focused gazes on him indicates anything.
Itadori awkwardly waves. “Geto-san! I’ve heard a lot about you. Wow, you really aren’t dead.”
He squints. “Did something happen to your head?”
“Itadori Yuuji.” Geto smiles at him….and it’s kinda creepy. “So you are here.”
“Uh, yeah. All of Gojo-sensei’s students are here in Shibuya. So’s all of the jujutsu sorcerers, really.”
“Yuuji-kun,” Gojo calls out, “suppose you don’t have enhanced vision too? This guy isn’t the real Suguru. Not my Suguru.”
Heh?
Yuuji embarrassedly blinks down at the other figure, finally recognizing this weird pattern on his forehead as not…entirely….natural. For lack of a better word. “A copycat? Wow, that’s kinda rude to spring on you, Gojo-sensei.”
“Rude but it worked,” Fushiguro wheezes as he rounds a corner and appears in the line of Yuuji’s vision, waving at him as he approaches. “Look at Gojo-sensei’s situation.”
“Ah—” Yuuji tears his eyes away from Fushiguro and the not-Geto figure, focusing on Gojo. “Is that what Mechamaru meant when he said Gojo-sensei has been sealed?”
“Prison Realm,” Fake-Geto calls out up to them, one hand cupped around his mouth. “Special grade cursed object, an absolute and perhaps the only effective method of trapping Gojo Satoru.”
He grins viciously, tapping at his own head as he looks down at Gojo. “At least when combined with psychological trauma.”
Gojo glares up at the guy. “Who are you?”
Fake-Geto smiles placidly. “Hmm? Forgot, did you? How terribly sad. Geto Suguru, of course.”
Gojo scoffs, making a tch noise at the admittedly very Geto-seeming imposter. “Like hell you are. Your body, that cursed energy…my six eyes tell me you’re Geto Suguru. But you’re not him—my soul knows otherwise! Who the hell are you?” Gojo’s voice rises up to a shout as he talks.
Yuuji and Fushiguro watch in stunned silence—along with a shocked Kugisaki.
Then Fake-Geto flips open his brain.
“Yeesh. How’d you know?” He titters. “My technique allows me to obtain new bodies by switching out brains, along with being able to use their innate techniques. You…didn’t have Ieri Shoko get rid of Geto Suguru’s body, didn’t you? Quite silly, how sentimental.”
Fake-Geto rights his head—quite a nauseating sight—before sighing and tightening his stitches.
“Good night, Gojo Satoru. Let us meet again in the new world.”
“Wait, wait—” Yuuji chokes out in a whisper, “this can’t seriously be happening. We can’t let Gojo-sensei get sealed. It’s going to—”
Fushiguro throws out an arm, blocking off Yuuji’s course of motion. “There’s nothing we can do about this, Itadori. Not about this. But we’re here to retrieve Gojo when it’s safe.”
Yuuji throws him a pensive look before finally nodding and stepping back. “Alright.”
Gojo seems to have heard them, as he throws back his head and laughs, turning to smile at them. Fake-Geto is struggling with his arm.
“Heh, I messed up! This could be quite troublesome. But it’ll be fine, I have faith in everyone—you three.”
“Gate close.”
And then Gojo’s gone.
Fake-Geto smiles up at Yuuji one last time. “Say hi to everyone from Geto Suguru. I’ll see you later, Itadori Yuuji.”
-
“It’s honestly quite upsetting, you know. Imagine seeing your ex but some absolute boob of a guy hijacked his body? Bodysnatcher sort of situation, not the greatest.”
The skeleton doesn’t respond.
“My Suguru was soooooo much more handsome without those stitches or that weird fellow messing up his features. He’ll never have the same expressions my Suguru had.”
Again no response.
Satoru laughs to a receptive audience of none before leaning back, a pile of skeletons crackling and wheezing under his lanky weight.
“Ack, it’s painful seeing that guy like that again.”
He smiles knowingly to himself. “But I have faith in Suguru too.”