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“It’s possible for you,” Geto stated, “Right, Satoru?”
Like a bell, his name rang through Geto's teeth with little emotion behind it.
Gojo just stood, with a heavy heart, firmly on the pavement below with a quivering bottom lip.
Quivering with either sadness or growing enmity.
“If it’s possible for you,” Geto then dived both his hands smoothly into his pockets – his face was tilted up, mimicking a holier-than-thou face of superiority.
As if he was making a point that only made sense to him.
“Can you really go around telling people that it’s impossible?”
Gojo wasn’t sure what Geto was implying, that powers like his were perfect for mass murder.
This whole conversation was odd; Gojo’s head seemed to go blank as it continued.
“Are you-.” Geto kept his head upturned.
With the next words to come from his former best friend’s mouth, it seemed to snap something in young Gojo’s mind.
As if a gust of wind was permeating the canals of his inner body rather than flowing as it did outside of it.
The blank cards swirling within Gojo’s memory felt like they were being replaced with symbols, letters, words and phrases. He knew what came next, every regret he’d have if he fucked this up and what he could say to change fate.
All of which, not belonging to him at all, but seemed, at the very least, to be his memories.
He’d thought this conversation was odd, but for the reason that it was like someone trying to push themselves to do something brash because of some unhampered complex they’d developed.
Gojo wasn’t good with emotions; he couldn’t see when people were regressing to become a shell of their former selves or when they’d broken like glass – unfixable – so he’d just assumed that this “complex” wasn’t anything good but wasn’t inherently evil.
It was like how people coped with loss or incited revenge.
But this déjà vu feeling was new, like he’d done this before, multiple times.
Could these memories help? Would Gojo even know what to say despite all this knowledge he’d gained?
“-The strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?” Geto finished.
Gojo was being flooded with things he wanted to say – based on both his new predictive memories and the jumbled-up ones spawning due to the twin questions being thrust upon him suddenly.
Was he...the strongest because of who he was? Or was he who he was because of his title? He rationalised.
It still made no sense to him; why would Geto care about a status that Gojo didn’t even pick for himself?
Why did Geto care about any of this?
But all Gojo could push out was a meek, “I- what the hell are you saying?”
“If I could become you,” Geto dropped his gaze to the floor, as if he was stepping in a puddle, “Then this foolish ideal would be perfectly plausible, don’t you think?”
Now that, Gojo thought, made even less sense.
But would he have caught that incongruence if it was just him and his own brain?
Gojo stood up straight, a contrast to his prior slouch of strain. He knew what he was going to say and how he’d say it; he couldn’t guarantee, however, it would bring Geto back to their blue spring.
It couldn’t even ensure that it’ll be enough to make Geto stick around.
But – as these memories had come from a place of regret; they’d failed to do what Gojo could fix now – he could at least try and fail with no regrets now.
“In this world, people like us are bestowed powers that allow us to freely do what we want, whatever they may be,” Gojo started, “There’s never been a tag or whatever that told me I couldn’t use my abilities for genocide.”
With great power came great responsibility – though what Geto wanted to achieve may be made easier with abilities like Gojo’s, it still wouldn’t be possible to kill every single non-sorcerer.
“It may not be impossible objectively, Suguru, but I know it’s not possible for me or you.”
As Gojo stepped closer, Geto’s position remained the same.
“Ha,” Geto rubbed his face; Gojo couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed, “What are you trying to say? That you couldn’t kill easier with something like limitless – drop the sappy shit.”
“No I can’t,” Gojo said honestly.
The other pressed his mouth into a fine line, cocking his head to the side.
That gave Gojo more incentive to keep talking.
“With every non-sorcerer you’d kill, there’d be another to replace them – my infinite cursed energy works more like a faucet than some money glitch in a game. It’s impossible even for non-sorcerers who’d tried before you.”
“You can’t say,” Geto seemed to step back, “It’s impossible when you haven’t tried it- I’ve watched you Satoru, you’re great. So great that I wish, sometimes, I could be exactly like you.”
Gojo mentally winced, clearly he’d said something wrong.
So he used the two seconds of non-responsiveness to think about the error he’d made – based on what and how Geto had responded.
The “You haven’t tried it” sounded like Geto wanted motivation to execute his plan rather than these being his genuine feelings.
Gojo couldn’t wrap his head around what Geto meant about wanting to be “exactly like him” though.
Why would anyone want that? Having the weight of the world on your shoulders at 17 was more stress than he could account – it was both exhausting-
-And lonely.
So when Gojo seemed to have another snap of activation, in which the cogs in his brain had started to wind, he watched as Geto took another step back.
“I can be like you now though,” A smile weaved like a gash on Geto’s face, “We’ll be the strongest yet.”
“Not like this,” Satoru took another step closer, “Being strong doesn’t extend to how much you can flaunt your power like that – we are no better than each other.”
Gojo figured he had been looking at Geto from a top-down perspective; he was being too practical. And his lack of emotional empathy was the reason (part of it) why Geto had been set on a path like this.
He realised that the reason Geto was even still willing to look him in the eye was because this plan was nothing more than a symbolic gesture, confirmed by Geto’s “we’ll be the strongest.”
But it could evolve into something much worse if Gojo didn’t do his best to shatter it.
So he relaxed his shoulders, exhaled any waste from his lungs and thought back to when he’d fought with Toji Fushiguro – feeling everything at once, hearing running water over rocks and leaves rustling in the breeze.
“I haven’t seen you for who you are, and so, you’ve looked to make a statement from the place you were left: the shadows-.”
Having to shoulder the burden of the death of a friend, watching and believing that your best friend had died, those you’d sworn to protect overpowering you; becoming a bigger threat than the soulless husks you kill for breakfast and then being shown that the sorcerer world is unkind to those who aren’t “strong-”
He must’ve been made to feel trapped, like he was drowning.
Gojo didn’t know, he wasn’t aware of any of this; he thought Geto was being outrageous and dramatic.
But maybe there was some truth in what he’d been saying.
“-I used to treat you as an equal, and although I still believe that we are in every sense, I left you alone to honour an artificial title.”
Did Gojo still sound like he was reading from a script? Did his words carry enough authenticity that Geto would consider what he was saying?
Geto didn’t move back again, instead, he inhaled sharply through his teeth, “Artificial? You mean objective. No one can say your name now without associating you with that label.”
Gojo’s eye twitched – seemed there may be some jealousy mixed into this debacle.
“Tell me, what brought this on?” Geto asked plainly.
“What?”
“Why have you suddenly grown a literate bone and are now spewing sentimental garbage like you’re convincing someone away from an edge?”
Because Geto was at an edge; Gojo could chip a tooth with how hard he was gritting his teeth.
He’d realised why his brain was telling him that if he’d failed to bring Geto out of the dark, he should speak from the heart so he didn’t leave this situation with regret.
Speaking from the heart...
“Because I know what to say now, and it doesn’t involve trying to fix you or your problems,” Gojo moved closer, “A better question would be why are you still willing to carry on this conversation, are you looking for something?”
And at that, Geto seemed to scoff, leaving a lingering smile on his face.
It wasn’t like the gash-like smile from before, which was progress, but it wasn’t inviting either.
“No. I’ve got nothing I want to find here.”
“Then why stay to listen to me?” Gojo held on; Geto’s statement seemed chalked with finality and he...wasn’t ready to give up.
“I’m curious, the things you’ve said are mismatched – like you have an earpiece in your ear feeding you advice like a dating show. Have you even said anything out of your own volition?” Geto suspected.
And suspect he did, Gojo did think that he’d been speaking like he was generating words through his glasses – he should’ve known this confrontation would still be difficult regardless of what knowledge he’d gained.
He needed to speak from the heart – did that mean he’d have to tread the next lines of dialogue by himself?
Gojo thought back to when he, Geto, Riko and Kuroi had found a, slightly overpriced, aquarium while they were in Okinawa – while Riko was in awe at experiences she’d never thought she’d see back in Tokyo, Gojo and Geto were talking about the plan for the trip back amongst other things.
Gojo didn’t think he was all that funny (he gave himself some credit) but Geto seemed to laugh at every joke he made.
His eyes, golden brown when light hit them, much like now, also caught Gojo’s gaze like they were playing tennis.
Gojo...
Loved everything about Geto.
And in trying so hard to prove that, he was fumbling his second chance.
For all the love he held for Geto, his heart would not budge-
-He could use that, Gojo thought, if you can’t beat them, join them.
“I’m not good with this sort of stuff,” Gojo laughed nervously while sinking his hands in his pockets, “So don’t mind me dropping the preachy ass speech for our next segment.”
Geto didn’t react much but he seemed inclined to listen, given how his eyes narrowed with a look akin to surveillance cameras.
“Everything I said before was of my own volition, but it was also somewhat practised – I thought if I dropped to speaking like normal you wouldn’t get the message and I’d alternatively not be able to coherently speak my mind.”
Gojo used this opportunity to begin walking over to his best friend, “So let me speak it for you to hear, since you were kind enough to stay.”
Maybe less than a metre away, they stood in front of each other – Gojo had picked his gaze up off the floor and was looking at Geto harshly.
“You’re an idiot, Suguru.”
“Right.”
“My powers in your hands would kill you before you could do harm to anyone else, which was my point from earlier.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“My negligence has killed more people than my technique ever could – with the state you’re in, I don’t doubt that that is in fact true.”
Geto seemed to unconsciously snarl, but he didn’t step back or move forward.
“The only reason we were bestowed powers like this was because we were the limitations. You’d have to be a moron to give powers to a guy that would waste it on mass murder, because anyone could do that,” Gojo continued to venture forward, “And, as I said, you are in no state to have powers of my calibre – so instead-.”
Gojo was about 60 centimetres away from Geto now.
“-Why not rewrite fate and use what we’ve experienced to put our powers to use in a non-self-destructive way?”
Geto scoffed again, “How naive.”
“It’s not,” Gojo tilted his head to the side, “Not only would we both live to stay the strongest together, but we can also prove that the deaths of those before us were not because we, or they, were too weak to handle themselves.”
Gojo was as hurt about their deaths as Geto was – but seeking revenge against a group for the actions of a few was as naive as Gojo’s pacifism.
“Are you implying that we too, are weak – on the same level as the bad apples in the non-sorcerer world?”
After that statement, Geto went quiet.
Here goes nothing – Gojo lifted his glasses over his head so his eyes reflected enough light into them that Geto couldn’t ignore him.
“I don’t want you to do this, Suguru,” He walked closer, the wafting smell from the KFC near them was potent in the air, “If a future existed that you, too, disappeared from my life then I’d rather exchange my abilities to try this again, and bring you to the Heavens with me.”
They were now 10 or 20 centimetres from each other; Satoru stopped right in front of his stone statue of a best friend, “You’re still here, Suguru Geto,” Gojo’s smile melted onto his face; it felt natural and not nervous, like he was trying to lie to himself, “I take it ruling from beyond Heaven’s gates is more appealing than scouring the underworld?”
“You haven’t...” Geto seemed to churn up his words, “Made your point actually appealing. Are you doing this for me or for you?”
“It’s for me of course-,” Gojo grinned – he took his hands and placed them at the side of Geto’s head, forcing his vision up to look at the other with full attention.
This was all, ultimately, for Gojo, it was true.
Mostly because whether or not Geto went through with his original plan, Gojo wouldn’t be involved nor help him. And Gojo stopping him was up to Geto’s willingness – he could’ve left a long time ago, even knowing, now, that Gojo was selfishly making him stay to essentially chain him down.
But.
Gojo knew that whether Geto stayed or left to accomplish his fucked-up goals, it wouldn’t benefit Geto. There was no road that wasn’t rocky, or didn’t lead to an endless drop regardless of what Geto picked.
If Gojo had been a little later on the uptake then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten to this point, where Geto’s morals had shifted, his views had been challenged and he’d been made to look like a fool for thinking the way he did before.
“But you are half of my soul – so technically, what is for me, will affect you too.”
Geto blinked, and thus closed his mouth for good.
“Open your eyes properly this time, and walk beside me, my one and only.”
“That’s so cringe.”
It had been a while since Gojo had seen Geto cry, he’d lifted a hand to fold it over Gojo’s, whose own hands were still sandwiched on his head.
The water dripped down to Gojo’s wrists; he didn’t feel them at all as the sensation was occupied by the beaming smile on his face. The muscles squeezed and his face creased, if he wasn’t careful, he’d start crying too.
He thought about how much harder this would be without the knowledge that he’d suddenly gained; the knowledge he hadn’t questioned the origins of till now.
Geto seemed pretty hellbent on that plan – it was only a matter of time till he’d turned his back on Satoru forever. When that did happen, his mind told him to say everything on it so that he, at least, didn’t leave with regret.
He felt a little dejected that even the memories of his assumable, previous incarnation didn’t have much confidence he’d be able to talk Geto down.
All’s well that ends well, he guessed.
“What are you thinking about?” Geto’s face wasn’t completely devoid of emotion but he had this flat expression that Gojo could only assume was to mask the embarrassment of his prior tears.
“Spending my life with you,” Gojo teased, to which, the other slapped Gojo’s hands off his face to then don a frown.
“That’s brave to say to someone like me,” Geto turned on his heel.
“To someone like you?”
“I just threatened genocide – I was genuinely going to put you behind me.”
“I knew you would,” Gojo pulled Geto into the KFC near them; the smell had been burning a hole in his stomach, “But I wasn’t going to put you behind me. Just because you’re done, doesn’t mean I’m done.”
But if this hadn’t worked, there wasn’t much Gojo could do to salvage it – he couldn’t save those who didn’t want to be saved; he’d get dragged down too and, in that vain, he wouldn’t be able to save anyone.
“Did you plan this?” Geto asked slowly and curiously.
The bell of the building welcomed them in, “Not at all – honestly, I was preparing for the worst,” Gojo said, “You really threw me for a loop; I didn’t know how to respond for a bit.”
From Geto’s face, he didn’t seem all that convinced – he was probably still hypersensitive too, so Gojo wouldn’t comment on how hypocritical that question sounded.
The conversation mostly stayed quiet, minimal and reserved after that; Geto’s appetite was floundering, so Gojo took the bulk of the meal – even paid for once.
So when they’d left, the sun had run its course; the sky was fading from pink to a darker blue, the two walked down Geto’s neighbourhood, avoiding his home as it was under investigation.
Gojo walked atop the walls of people’s front yards – he still had his uniform on but there weren’t any people around so no one would say anything about it.
“You rushed here from jujutsu tech,” Geto had his hands dug into his pockets paired with a long, searching gaze pointed in front of him.
“Yeah,” Gojo was pretty tuckered out of conversation; he’d still answer whatever Geto would ask though, mostly because, up until now, Geto hadn’t said much.
“Why Satoru?”
“Because I love you, Suguru.”
“Stop saying that, be honest with me.”
Gojo also realised that, with Geto’s pretty covert hard-head, that conversation would be null and void if Gojo had fumbled at least 30% of it.
Maybe Geto was just not used to the spotlight like this.
“I am being honest – what fool would let you off scot-free with just a chat?”
Geto clammed up again, to which, Gojo just laughed this time.
“I’ll tell you again in a couple of years, if you last that long,” Gojo, jumping down from his position, ran ahead, humming to himself.
Was this the good ending? Is this what his previous self failed to accomplish before?
Maybe, Gojo hoped as much.