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Geto Suguru never thought death would be like this. Naturally, he was prepared for it, as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. And it seemed like his time had finally come.
He was losing ridiculous amounts of blood by the minute, not to mention a missing limb. Death was practically at his doorstep, impatiently knocking. At least he was going out on the stone-tiled pathway of his alma mater. No better place than home.
Yet, when he'd caught a familiar scent nearing, he'd forced himself to stay for a few more minutes.
"Yo, Satoru. Late as always," He tried to keep his tone light, despite being moments away from passing out forever.
Gojo remained silent. Geto watched as his eyes shifted, seeing everything and nothing all at once. Six eyes sure was a useful technique, Geto thought.
"Do you have any last words?" Came the voice he'd grown so fond of. At least this was the last voice he'd hear before he left.
"No matter what anyone says, I hate those monkeys."
A beat of silence. He winced as he grabbed where his right arm would be.
"But I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High," Another beat.
"I just couldn't wear a heartfelt smile in this world." Suguru says, chuckling slightly, but clutching onto his shoulder harder.
"Suguru." Gojo approached him, squatting.
Geto watched as his lips formed words, all fuzzy and sounding far away from the lack of blood to his head. Yet he could still make out what he'd said, clear as day.
"You're my best friend."
Geto paused—
Then burst out laughing. "At least hit me with some curses at my end."
The intense blue of Gojo's eyes seemed to dim as he stood up.
"Hey—" Geto started, voice soft.
"Make it quick, okay?"
Geto Suguru never thought death would be like this. Naturally, he was prepared for it, as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. And it seemed like his time had finally come.
He just never thought his death would come in the form of Gojo Satoru.
And just like that, Suguru Geto was gone. Had left just as quickly as he'd entered Satoru's life. Gakuganji, along with the higher-ups — the damn geezers they were — had wanted to cremate him instantly, but Gojo had insisted on holding a proper funeral. They were dumbfounded, but Gakuganji had merely shrugged. Shoko, Nanami and Yaga hadn't been of much help to them either. So, here they all were — Jujutsu High faculty, alumni, and Geto's family — in the heart of the campus of Tokyo's Jujutsu High.
Maybe it was just Satoru's gut feel, but to him it felt like Suguru was watching over them, floating above the funeral site as a ghost while he watched.
He'd probably be sitting with his legs open (he never sat with them closed or crossed), a drink in hand as he pouted and whined over the details he didn't like. Satoru didn't know what details he'd be complaining about though — he tried his best to keep everything to Suguru's preference, which he had long since known by heart.
The last rays of sunlight fell over the site in soft, glowing rays, almost like a reminder of the past. The orange-tinged sky held nary a cloud in sight. Satoru can almost feel the late afternoon wind on his face, as if they had been strolling along the stone pathways just yesterday, and the day before, and the days past that.
The feelings that had been lurking beneath the surface finally emerged, and hit Satoru a bit too hard for a "hero" that had saved the jujutsu world from who they had deemed as a "villain". Years and years of bitterness and resentment, coupled with nostalgia and the repetitive thoughts of "I miss you, come back." came springing back at Gojo in full force. Now, the reality was truly starting to set in. Suguru Geto, his best friend, was gone. Forever.
No longer would his fingers itch to dial up his old number just to hear his voice again. No more would he hear Suguru's sweet, honeyed voice calling out his name (“Satoru!”) like he'd collected all the stars in the night sky and laid them out for Suguru to have. No more would his treacherous mind wish that he could drop all his responsibilities and try to convince Suguru just once more to change his mind and to come back because damn it, you asshole, I miss you.
Suguru Geto was calmly watching his proceedings from above. He watched as they carried his casket and laid it on a white-clothed table. He watched as those in the crowd lowered their heads in respect. He still watched when his eulogy had been read out by none other than Satoru himself.
Suguru had always been an expert at reading his best friend. Always knew when Satoru had overexerted himself. Always knew when Satoru felt something that he couldn't voice out. Always knew that one day, Satoru wouldn't notice the little things changing in him that he had done for Satoru.
He muttered to himself, after the eulogy had been delivered, "Please, Satoru. You hated me all those ten years, so don't lie about it now."
Satoru had never cared about him in those ten years apart. Suguru knew that.
So if he knew that, then why did he feel bad for feeling like that, when Satoru looked like he'd been crying?
Mourning the loss of the Suguru Geto he'd killed? Or mourning the loss of the Suguru Geto he had known back then, when they were young and careless and didn't give a damn about what the rest of the world had to say, because together they had been 'the strongest'?
But that fateful day in front of the restaurant had sealed their fates, had it not? Suguru had finally found his purpose.
But had Satoru lost his?
Had Suguru … been Satoru's purpose? His reason to keep going? When he left, did a part of Satoru leave with him? When Satoru had to kill him, did it kill Satoru just the same?
Suguru Geto watched as tears filled those crystal blue eyes. Eyes as deep as the oceans, as blue as the skies, as clear as day and as pretty as morning dew. And then it hit him.
Satoru didn't hate him. Satoru never hated him.
The pieces fell right into place, all in front of Suguru. It was as though he'd suddenly regained insight into Satoru's mind. He had always been able to read Satoru's mind as a high schooler. Until ten years ago, at least. Past then, Suguru didn't know whether he and Satoru thought the same way ever again. But right now, at his funeral with the last hues of the reddened setting sun, with the acquaintances he'd made and lost along the way, with his one and only, Suguru knew. An overwhelming sense of guilt clawed at him, in the pit of his stomach.
Oh, Satoru. The sight before him wasn't Gojo Satoru, "the strongest". The Satoru before him — the person with the aquamarine eyes now glassed over with tears, the person with the summer-like colors rolling down his face — was ... just Satoru. Scared, lonely Satoru. For a moment, Suguru could see the part of Satoru that hadn't yet grown up, still stuck in the naivety of his high school days, not yet bearing the brunt of being labeled "the strongest". God, he still looked so pretty even after all these years.
Gojo Satoru could feel his presence in the air around him. He was sure of it. It wasn't some strange aftermath of the grief and the pent-up guilt he felt. Satoru knew that right then and there that the spirit of Suguru Geto was nearby, watching over him at that exact moment.
Maybe he was happier now. He'd probably be reunited with Haibara. Maybe— Maybe he'd even miss Satoru. Even if it was just a sliver, Satoru hoped that it would be true.
Even now — hours after the funeral had ended, when the night was cool and dark and the only sound around for miles was the incessant crowing of birds — Satoru still lay awake, unable to fall asleep for the first time in years. He heaved a sigh, getting up from his bed and making his way to the rooftop of his apartment. There he sat, watching the occasional car drive by, listening to the birds cry out.
It was almost painful, sitting there alone. Suguru used to keep him company. They'd talked and talked and talked, until there had been nothing more to talk about. Each time when he couldn't sleep, Satoru would always find himself back up here, and it was always with Suguru by his side.
And for the first time in years, he cried. He cried like he hadn't already cried enough that same day. He sat and hugged his legs close to him as sob after sob escaped his lungs and tore through the cold night air. He cried and cried and cried, begging and wishing for Suguru to just come back because his only companion now was the silver orb shining bright above his head in the night sky — now that the one he'd used to have was permanently gone. He screamed at the sky, letting out all the words he'd kept bottled up for Suguru those ten years. Why did you have to leave? Why couldn't you have stayed? Was it me all along? Did I make you feel like leaving, Suguru? Was I the reason? It was me, wasn't it? He cried out until his throat went dry, until his lungs burned, until he could no longer cry. He cried until the mistress of Night had slinked away and been replaced by hints of her counterpart.
By sunrise, he had been reduced to a sniffling mess, kept awake purely by grief replaying the memories of Suguru and him together. It was always Suguru and him, him and Suguru, Satoru and Suguru, Suguru and Satoru.
Those three years of his youth felt like a blur. Could it even be called his youth? It felt as though his true youth had been taken away from him.
"Gojo?" A female voice — Shoko, probably — called out as she knocked on his door. "Gojo, you there?" Satoru let out a hoarse-sounding hum. "You okay?" Came her voice again. He didn't bother answering; they both knew the answer to that question. Shoko dropped her voice. "Satoru, I … know it's been tough on you, but that doesn't give you a reason to starve yourself."
"Come out and eat. Nanami even cooked." Shoko gently pleaded with him.
He didn't move.
"Please, Satoru. This isn't what Suguru would want you to do."
And she was right, because Suguru would've told him to "hurry up and move on already", or something along those lines.
Yeah, well, Suguru was gone, though.
"Gojo-senseeeei!" Yuuji enthusiastically called out to the approaching figure, waving and flailing his hands around excitedly. The other first-years playfully rolled their eyes at the sight of him. "Yes, dearest Yuuji-kun!" Gojo returned Yuuji's greeting with equal enthusiasm as he ignored Megumi and Nobara, turning off his infinity briefly to return the boy's high five. "What're we doing today?" He asked, eyes almost shining with stars. Gojo chuckled, huddling the first-years as he said, "Today's lesson will be covered by … none other than our dear Nanami!" He gestured to the suited figure behind him, who seemed unbothered. Nanami — unlike Gojo — had been greeted with warm responses. This was just blatant favoritism, Gojo all but sulked.
"Ahem! I'd love to spend the time with you all today, but I have personal matters to attend to!" Gojo wiggled his fingers in goodbye, before running off.
He could vaguely hear the trail of conversation as he left: "Weirdo." "Don't say that, Kugisaki-san. Gojo-san is weird, but today means a lot to him."
He smiled just a little.
Among the lush evergreen trees and well-kept grass patches of Jujutsu High sat a rather new-looking stone. On its front, the words "夏油" (read: Getou) were carved onto it.
Satoru placed a freshly-opened can of soda down, along with some cookies. "Yo, Suguru. I know you don't really like sweet things, but Nanami baked these just for today. I hope you like them." He spoke like he was greeting an old friend. Sitting down on the ledge beside the tombstone, he began rambling on like he always did when in the presence of his best friend. He talked about the weather, about their friends, about their time as students, about his students, about Suguru's daughters, about everything there was to talk about and then some. He talked and talked and talked and by the time he was done, it was close to dinnertime.
"Well, that's all for now, I suppose. I'll catch you in, I'd say… a year's time." He laughs softly to himself at the small joke. He gets up and dusts his pants off, turning away from his past to return to his present.
The spirit of Suguru Geto also stood up, waving goodbye to Satoru's now-turned back that was basked in the late afternoon rays of sun.
"See you soon, Satoru."