Archive of Our Own

From Chapter 14 (“Red Ink”) of Okkotsu Kiyori’s In Living Color: The Life of the Strongest Sorcerer (833):

It is difficult to fathom a world without sorcery. Or, at the very least, it is difficult to fathom a world without the Great Merger, a world where shaping the Weave required effort and skill and some form of innate talent.

And yet, this is the world Gojo Satoru—the strongest of all sorcerers to ever exist—lived in. Spellcraft was esoteric, schools of magic like ghost towns as magelings dwindled with each year. Miracles were rare then. The known world was not so known. Gojo’s is one of the few names to survive the last thousand years, and yet there is little known of him despite his celebrity.

By all contemporary reports, the man was no introvert. He was annoyingly outspoken, peers said, irreverent and notoriously blunt. There was not a soul he could not offend and not a word that never passed his lips—all bluster, in the end, performance art dispelled by a few choice sources, like the journals of Geto Suguru.

The Man of Many Monsters was one of the greatest villains of his era, yet his writings have endured over the centuries not only for his poeticism but his unique insight into one of the most enigmatic figures in the Second Golden Age. Geto wrote of veiled insecurities and well-guarded loneliness, an isolation manufactured by kin and then legend. Between lamentations of their sundered friendship, the Collector waxed lyrical about Gojo’s renown and his strength and of the consequential solitude. What little we know of Gojo Satoru indicates he would not find fault in Geto’s logic or rhetoric; perhaps this predisposition toward melodrama was why they were such close companions to begin with.

Very few of Gojo’s writings survived the millennium since his death. His academic work has endured in practice if not proof, his Theorem on Isoportation still taken as seminal literature in the School of Transmigration well into the modern age. While previous chapters have extensively covered his heritage and scholastic impact, one cannot discuss Gojo’s final years and that fateful duel without mentioning the letters collected and protected by his closest confidant, High Archivist Ijichi Kiyotaka, who was but a lowly scribe during Gojo’s lifetime.

Gojo Satoru’s most precious work was a collection of love letters of all things, penned to another sorcerer (whose name has sadly been lost to history) as he developed his Domain. The pinnacle of any shaman’s work amidst a sea of upheaval, it is safe to say that this was the most important time of Gojo Satoru’s life. One has to wonder if he realized the epoch’s significance, long before the Great Merger was even a twinkle in his pupil’s eye.

Though not meant for prying eyes, the following correspondence to (and on one occasion, from) Gojo’s unnamed beloved paints a vivid picture of the world and the man himself before the Calamity.

22nd of Hazuki 1137

Dear N,

Have you settled in nicely to your white-sand beaches? Or has a sea serpent swallowed your new home whole? From the looks of your quarters here at school, it would’ve found a paltry meal if it had. And you would make a poor dessert, nothing but skin and bones. Now I feel sorry for the miserable serpent. You’re starving the lad.

Come home soon The halls are emptier without you I finally tried some of that bread you love so much and I wept with each bite I think I shall create a demiplane. Perhaps it will be the only place in this universe where I shall be free of how much I miss you.

And when I say I miss you, I mean that I miss not being the only person in this entire fucking school. Shoko’s already been shipped off to the Healers’ Circle. The less that’s said about Suguru, the better. I took a peek at the incoming class and I already know that we are not going to get along at ALL. I understand that I’m the most beautiful creature anyone ever did see, but those children are horrifically boring. Plain. Hardly worth a notice. From the way they carry their books, I can tell they’re dead-eyed rule followers—just like you. So you should come back and make friends with them instead of ingratiating yourself to hermit crabs and seagulls. If you came back, you’d be King of the Bores! I would have no choice but to bend the knee. And you recall just how much you loved to see me on my—

Just kidding!

I will be fine without you. I was fine before you and I shall be fine after you. Ignore what I said about the demiplane. It’s hard work, you know. Making one. It requires time and energy and focus, more passion than is garnered from missing a single junior. I am the strongest, but that is not a title that I can truly claim until I complete this Great Work. Wouldn’t it be fun to do it together?

I mean, I don’t think you could, but you may attempt to follow along with my instructions. Avoid my mistakes (of which there will be few, if any). If you so choose—and you do—then I suppose I must keep you abreast (heh) of my progress with more letters.

So look forward to them! The letters to teach you how to create a demiplane, not letters because I miss you. Because those do not exist.

And yes, you should consider this a pre-emptive warning to fireproof that driftwood/straw/whatever-flimsy-material hut you’re living in. Apologies in advance if I burned it down with the delivery of this parchment, you know how finicky fire messages can be—and now you know better. Toodles!

Irritatingly yours,
The Eminently Powerful Gojo Satoru

3rd of Nagatsuki 1137

Hello Sweet N,

For SOME reason, I did not hear back from you! I am aghast. Aghast, I say! And devastated, heartbroken, simply a shell of my former self. You’ve destroyed me with your reticence.

Unfortunately for you, I enchanted that first letter to notify me when someone else’s energy has interacted with it, so I know that you at least picked it up. I know you are not the verbose type, so I filled in the blanks myself while I was writing with the appropriate grunts and huffs where I thought you would make them.

When you separate it from the rest of the letter, it almost sounds like the melody of Love of a Lifetime. Who knew you were such a romantic? (I did!)

Tell me, my friend. Do you know what the material components of a Demiplane spell are? There are five.

One—a willing creature to anchor the demiplane. Most sorcerers use trees, others petition the few spirits who are inclined to indulge us lowly humans. I’ve decided to up the ante a little instead. I’ll be using myself as the anchor. That way, the demiplane will be accessible from anywhere. No need for leylines or eclipses or any other manufactured circumstance if a sorcerer’s away from their anchor. Home is now literally where my heart is.

Now, you may be asking yourself—has this ever been done before? The answer is: Absolutely Not. But this’ll be just another one of my many firsts, won’t it?

Two—you will also need a jar of pitch with a drop of mercury. For this plane, I used resin from the hinoki at school. No doubt my clan will pitch (get it? I’m so funny) a fit about my forsaking the sacred ginkgo grove for run-of-the-mill flora, but I’d rather die than bring anything from the compound with me. It would poison the whole affair and waste my hard work. I’m sure the coconut trees you’ve surrounded yourself with will produce… interesting results.

Three—sand. So send me some, okay?

Four—incense. Suguru used to keep some burning in his room all the time. Said it was to cover up the stench of all those curses clinging to him. It was hell sharing a wall with him. Count your blessings, my friend. Anyway. He left some reiryo koh behind. It would be a waste to just let it sit there, especially since Yaga already took everything else and tossed it out.

Last but not least, you need tallow, which I am currently rendering at the time of this writing from a boar that I hunted myself. Allow me to take this time to answer all of your questions in one fell swoop—Yes, I did it without sorcery; yes, it was massive, with tusks the size of my forearms; and yes, I looked so incredibly dashing while I did so. No, I did not fall face-first into the dirt or skin the heels of my palms. I am definitely holding my brush with the utmost propriety. If you are giggling to yourself whilst imagining my grievously wounded personage and indignity, I shall curse your bloodline for the next thousand years.

Still, with everything said and done, I suppose I am quite tired. It’s a lot of work, you know, tracking a gigantic beast through the fen, and then stripping its corpse of the fat. My immaculate and unharmed arms still burn from the exertion, and yet, I find within myself the strength to keep writing to you. Imagine that. It will all be worth it to be the youngest sorcerer to create a mobile Domain, of course.

None of which will be possible unless you send me that pouch of sand, mind. You’ll be a part of history. You’re welcome.

I hear you’re a clerk at a bank now. How dreadfully mundane. Though I’m sure it helps you to truly understand my generosity.

What is it like, living a ‘normal’ life?

Do you think you deserve one?

I bet if Haibara was still here, he’d dig through stone to get me the sand that I need. Don’t you think so? Since you’re still around, you should try to live up to his memory, no?

(If that doesn’t force you to respond, no worries. I’m just getting started.)

Eagerly awaiting your assistance,
The Great and Awesome Gojo Satoru

8th of Nagatsuki 1137

Fondest greetings, dearest N,

I am grateful for the sand. Less so for the unkind, rather aggressive card, though I suppose I can forgive the harsh language just this once. Unfortunately, for all your inestimable generosity, it seems that I will need much more than a small parcel. A rice sack’s worth should be enough for our purposes.

You see, I have something to confess, old friend. I FUCKING HATE THIS! I GIVE UP! (No, I don’t.)

As I’m sure you’re well aware, I’m quite good at... well, everything. However, you’ll be pleased to hear that all that blathering about my penmanship has finally borne fruit—it’s finally caused something (that something being our sand) to blow up in my face!

Admit it. You smiled just now at the thought of it, didn’t you? Ass.

(And now I’m sure your cheeks have pinked at being so easy to read even when I can’t see your face, so we’re even. HA!)

As I sit in this crater nursing my wounded pride, I wish I could say that I don’t know what went wrong. Alas, that would be a lie. It only took half a second, as I hurtled through the air with stars in my eyes, to realize my misstep. It was the sigils. Cutting corners by omitting a few lines meant they could not adequately store the energy I was channeling into the spell circle, and so the ensuing feedback fed me back into the sky. Oops.

Luckily, I am unharmed (truly, this time). Just in case you were worried for my well-being.

You know, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to fail. Even my lowest low led to one of my highest highs naught but two summers ago.

I think I must have been eight, the last time I found something besides you to be impossible. As I recall, I could not find it in myself to be patient enough for fishing. It was not a hobby that was indispensable to the Oh-So-Great Six Eyes, and so I was freed from it without a fuss. My father was gutted, I think. But I don’t remember caring. I was just a child then. Assuming I was ever one.

Did you want me to fail? Did you curse me when you wrote me back? Would it make you happier to know that I too am fallible?

If you had known any sooner, would you have stayed?

It’s funny, you know. For a good hour or so, I was frustrated that I screwed up something so basic. Every first-year spends hundreds of hours on sigils and semiotics. Our first skill is a perfect circle. It was something I should've been able to do in my sleep. And then, after I’d gotten all that fury (at myself) out of my system, I was… happy. I felt human. It’s almost a shame that I learned from my mistake. If this is what it feels to be less than perfect—without consequence, for my forehead aches fiercely from these summer rains—I do not know why I was ever so afraid of it.

But that’s enough reflection for now, wouldn’t you say? If I stare too long at the abyss, I’ll fall in headfirst!

Oh, I know what would be a proper distraction! What if I stopped by and picked up the sand myself so you can save on freight?

1… 2… 3… 4… Oh, don’t mind me, just counting the number of chins you gained from recoiling at that sentence. You look so handsome.

In my infinite kindness, here are instructions to a reduction spell so you can have the bag teleported instead of carried. Use it responsibly!

With optimism & determination,
Gojo Satoru

26th of Mutsuki 1138

Dear N,

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Phew, I feel better now. Yes, I also screamed out loud, though you probably already knew that.

I was SO CLOSE. I could feel the threads weaving together, could hear the hum of magecraft, I could see the sparks of blue forming beneath my feet, and then—nothing. I dropped, hard, onto my heels, and now my head hurts. It feels like I’m holding in the world’s most earth-shattering sneeze. My skull feels like it’s going to explode.

I don’t know why I thought it would be easy. Because I’m Gojo Satoru? Because I’m the strongest? That’s a stupid question Suguru asked me before he left, by the by. Have you heard of his new cult? What a load of hogwash. He makes sweeping claims about how I’m coasting through life which hurt because they’re probably partially true and then fucks off and publishes pamphlets about so-called spiritual healing? Bullshit. Wherever he is, he’s probably happier than I am right now. That’s the most infuriating part of it all.

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep talking about him. We’re different, you and I. I don’t have the luxury of grief where my ‘best friend’ is concerned.

To get back to more important matters, I have concluded that I imbued too little energy into the spell circle on this second attempt. That’s why everything fizzled out. Last time, I put too much, and we both know how that turned out. It was foolish of me. My sigils were perfect this time, and yet I still held myself back. Clearly, ‘better to be safe than sorry’ has no place in sorcery.

Oh, what I would give to borrow your Gift for just a few minutes. I would never want it to be permanent, I cannot fathom living without Infinity. But to be able to create a ‘sweet spot’ at will is invaluable. Though you always seemed to apply it only in contexts that required violence, I’m sure you could synthesize some pacifist applications to the technique. You might’ve been able to, had you stayed in school. You were quite the devoted student, as I recall.

Then again, there is a chance that the higher-ups would’ve put a stop to it before you even started. Have you running around doing exorcisms rather than theory. Can’t have too many people reaching their full potential, right? You were always one of the best of us.

I'm aware that I speak very little of anything but myself, but you must know by now that I think quite highly of you, don’t you? Even though you’ve only ever seen me as a foolish blowhard. I, unlike most, can appreciate a responsible, mature, and ethical young man afraid to stand up for what he believes in. Which at this time seems to be disillusionment—insofar as one can consider that a belief.

Anyway, before I get too sappy, if you want to further study your Gift as the first of your kind, I would be willing to help. I can’t imagine you’re making much use of it now, but knowledge can be its own reward. And you’ll get to have me as a research assistant. Quite an attractive incentive, no?

But enough about you. I must resume my work, if only to rebuild your confidence in me as a scholar without peer. I suppose this letter was written just to write, as I have nothing to ask of you at this time… except for your unwavering support!

I swear, the next time you hear from me, I’ll have succeeded. I expect much ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing on your part. You must make up for all these years of rolling your eyes at me, after all. But I shall not count my chickens before they hatch, as delicious as they may be. ‘Til we (metaphorically) meet again!

Your greatest inspiration,
Gojo Satoru

20th of Minazuki 1138

Dearest N,

HAHA! HOHO! NYOHO! HEH HEH! MWAHAHA!

(This is my attempt at recreating my timeless, eloquent reaction to the spell finally working.)

Let it be said: Gojo Satoru always keeps his promises! Not that you should’ve ever doubted me. When have I ever let you down? (Don’t answer that.)

Fine, I’ll admit that this was not the sweeping victory I had envisioned. I could not even conjure a room. But building the foundation of a Domain is nothing to sneeze at—and I have mastered stabilizing the anchor so that further ventures will only build on top of what I have already constructed rather than having to repeatedly start from scratch.

It’s an exhilarating sensation, watching and feeling all the pieces click into place. Surely you recall from your lessons that Construction is the most taxing school of magic. Many a sorcerer has given themself a brain hemorrhage trying to manifest a needle in this plane. Unless they were blessed with Construction as a Gift, most could forget creating a separate one entirely—and even if they were, it’s not a guarantee that one could wield their Gift effectively.

Creating a Domain, though, should be both easy and difficult. Challenging, as all feats of Construction are, yet easy in that we have the material realm as a roadmap. Physics, sorcery and its principles, and any other properties I wish may simply be copied wholesale from my current plane of existence. But even so, although I am not breaking new ground, it feels… amazing. It’s hard to describe, the way one’s body tingles in tandem with the flickering light, the weightlessness as a world forms before you.

It’s funny that I had written before of how desperately I wished to feel human, and yet here I am relishing in the divine—for what else is an act of creation but the closest one can get to godhood? All my life, I have tried to escape the role of a deity that my family so persistently pushed upon me. Maybe if I had come to such a delusion on my own, I would have leaped into it headfirst. I suppose there is something to be said about how power corrupts. I shall try my best to deflate my head just a little.

I wish that you were here. I wish I didn’t have to use parchment and ink to hear your voice again. I wish that I didn’t need to rely on letters to feel tethered to the world anymore.

Did you know that you and Shoko are the only people who reply to me these days? I suspect the rest think I’ve gone mad. Or maybe they just don’t like me. Both could be true. I’d say this is particularly pathetic, even for me, but in the end, you are the only person and Shoko are the only people I want to hear from. Perhaps I’ve made my peace with loneliness.

Or perhaps not, seeing how terribly I wish to see you.

But even if you were here, there’s really not much to show. I doubt you’d be impressed by a glowing blue hexagon, even if it is gigantic. It may be best, I suppose, to speak plainly.

I miss you. No qualifiers or excuses this time. I miss you. I wish to see you. Surely a vacation wouldn’t kill you—or me, for that matter—could it?

Give it some thought. Please. You cannot see it, but I am begging on my hands and knees.

(Or am I? …haha! Fooled you! But please. Come.)

Your budding well-beloved comedian friend,
Gojo Satoru

(P.S. Please tell your mother that I am in love with her and that her pineapple tart was the closest I’ve come to seeing heaven since I got stabbed in the head.)

2nd of Nagatsuki 1138

My dearest N,

You must’ve been busy. That is the only reason I could think of for your reply—so short and succinct and absolutely devoid of any response to my heartfelt plea, on account of there being no reply at all.

But that’s fine. I’ve been busy too. My silence was not a matter of wounded pride, to set the record straight. As a matter of fact, I think I shall share my momentous news right here, right now. I request that you hold your applause (or laughter) until the very end.

I’ve been asked to TEACH!

And to first years, no less. Probably because Yaga knows I have no qualms about punting a snide second-year through several walls. But as amusing as it would be to me, their snooty parents may not find the levity in it. I’ve become one myself since we last corresponded, so I should know.

Being a professor really isn’t as awful as I thought it would be. Ah—phrasing it in such a way makes it sound like I was forced into this; I was not. I couldn’t spend all my time working on my Domain (which I’m still doing, albeit at a much slower pace!) whilst having to care for Tsumiki and Megumi. I can keep a better eye on the little rascals if they’re at school, and they are granted room & board as ‘children of faculty.’

Anyhow, you should see this new crop. I see genuine potential in my class, irrespective of their tutelage under the oh-so-great-and-wise Gojo Satoru. All three students are exceedingly powerful in their own right: a girl who can manipulate chance, a little like you; a boy who lives in shadows and can bend them to his will; even a child who can control motion. Why, I could have the next cohort of Special Grades right underneath my nose.

They’re all so smart, too. When Yaga gave me my assignment, I thought I’d have to spend weeks on the basics—fire bolts, frost rays, and the like. I thought it would be a job. Boring, as all jobs seem to be. Imagine my surprise when the little brats kept me on my toes with ease. I can honestly say that I’m excited for what the future holds.

Things are different than how they used to be when we were students. Maybe it’s because Yaga cares more than any of the old farts we were forced to deal with. I’m glad students these days are getting the help they need.

Five years ago, I achieved what I had then called enlightenment. I learned how to unmake the world, how to make it collapse in on itself into nothing. Now it has come around again—but my enlightenment has nothing to do with destruction. It has everything to do with nurture and care and love. It feels much less hollow.

All this makes me think about hope, about how a lack of it caused you to abandon sorcery entirely. There’s so much of it here now. Part of me wishes you’d become a student in this generation. I think you would’ve thrived. But then you and I would’ve never become friends. I want to cling to that. I don’t care if it's selfish. Still, I do believe I’d see a great big smile on your face if you saw what the school is like now.

Don’t worry, I’m not doubling down. I know what a kindly rejection looks like.

Instead, I would like it—if you were willing—for you to talk more about your life in your letters. Sometimes, I feel as though I talk too much, and I’m certain my students and children would agree. But I would like to hear more about you. I enjoy learning more about you. I enjoy being included in your life. I miss reading your words and hearing your voice.

I would be happy to know that you are living well, though the choice to share is (as always) yours.

Thine Champion of Youth,
Gojo Satoru

17th of Yayoi 1141

N,

Minami died last week. I’m sorry. I know this is a terrible way to start a letter after your last reply.

There was a curse that burned down a village. She died saving a family of five.

That’s about as much as I’m willing to discuss regarding this topic. I know it’s nondescript to the point of being uselessly vague, but I feel as though I should be the one to inform people as her mentor. Her shepherd, even though she’s not been under my care for years. If you’re truly curious for more details, I’m sure Shoko would be more than thrilled to oblige.

Trivia time! Did you know that towers are the most common Domain structure? The second and third are shrines and temples—which is to be expected, I suppose. What is a Domain if not an altar to oneself? Towers only win out because it’s easier to stack upward than expand laterally.

Now, you know that I’m all for going against the grain, but I think I’ll try my hand at a tower as well. Put some of that extra special Gojo Satoru flare to it. I’ve been ignoring this project for far too long, methinks. A tower is structurally simple but can contain multitudes. Quite like myself, wouldn’t you say?

Compared to a shrine, which is a singular structure, or a temple, which is a series of rooms and structures connected by linear pathways, a tower must be built floor by floor. Each one must be strong enough to support at least the one on top of it. As for me, I have a bit of an extra challenge: because I don’t intend to anchor my Domain to any material space, I must ensure that its foundation is unshakeably sturdy.

Of course, the taller the tower is, the more powerful the spellcaster. Tengen’s era used to discourage this, so I’ve heard. Too greedy, they said of these pillars sprouting from the ground like blades of grass, for attempting to reach for the gods. There are legends of deities collapsing a few on top of their builders for their presumptuousness and hubris.

I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world; clearly, I will tower (ha, see what I did?) over the rest. How long, I wonder, until I get smote? To be honest, if I had my way, my tower would never be finished. It would be a constant work in progress, an Unlimited Void, until my Domain managed to encompass all of the knowledge in the world.

My true obstacle is figuring out what to do with all this space. Living quarters—for myself and the children and guests—are a given. I want an observatory, but that would have to be near the top, which is a challenge when I don’t want to have a top. I can’t make every other floor a library, can I? The bottom floors are all reception areas, anyway. A kitchen, dining quarters, an audience chamber. Bleh, how boring.

Oh! What if I inserted a menagerie? My son is a summoner, after all. He might find some use for it. His sister may seek to turn it into a petting zoo, though.

Since this is a nerve-wracking, difficult decision, I’m taking a survey from my closest friends. (Here’s a secret—you’re at the top of the list!) You’ll find attached a floor plan and a list of proposed facilities. If you could select and label the tower with your preferred layout, that would be ever so wonderful. Suggestions, comments, and constructive (pun intended) criticism appreciated as well.

Your help would mean the world to me. Such deliberation has consumed my thoughts so entirely that I’ve not slept in eight days! Each time I close my eyes, a new idea sparks beneath those lids and forces them open anew!

I suppose I could attempt a borderless Domain, but that’s only ever been done once before, and I don’t want yet another thing to blow up in my face—

[The next paragraphs are blurred beyond legibility, words blotted out by circular stains. Gojo made several attempts to dry these spots with sand.]

—— — ————— ———— ——— — ——- — —- - —— — — ———- ———- - — — ——- —-. —- —- — ——-. ————, - ——— —-, ———- —- —- —— ———- —— Megumi and Tsumiki. —- —- —- —- - —- —— ——- —— - hold — ————- — —- —— ——— —-. —- —— ——— —-. —- —- so close — —- ——, —- — —- —— —- —— - ——— ———, —- ———— —— —— — —— ———- ——, —- —- ——- ——- —— — —- — —-. —- —— —- ——— ——— ———, —— —— — - ——— —— ——-. All that was left — —- —- - ——— ——- ——. - ———— —— —- ———- — —- —-. — —- —— —— —- ——— —— — —? —— ———— —- ——- —- —- — —— ———?- — ——- —— - ——— ————, ———- —? —- — —- ——-.

How many spells —- ——- — ———- ——-? — —— —————? — —— —- —- —- ——— — - ——- —- ——- - ——? —- —- —— —- - ——- —-?

—— —— ——. —- held on for so long, —— —— ——- ——- —- —- — —— ———- ————. - — proud, and yet I am —————-. —- ——— —- —— —- — ————— —- ——. - ———- - ———- — —— ———— ——- —— — ——. I failed ——— —- —- ———-. I failed —-.

Forgive me.

—Satoru

18th of Yayoi 1141

Gojo,

Between the two of us, it is I who ought to beg for forgiveness—for all these years of impoliteness and wrongful resentment, if nothing else.

I must admit that if your letter had reached me at the same time as your first, it would have gladdened me that you finally knew what loss felt like. But you always have, haven’t you? You understood it even before the affair with Amanai and Geto’s defection. You were not lacking in many things, but in what you did, you suffered just as much as the rest of us. Haibara was your friend too. I don’t think I ever considered how horrible it must’ve been to find him and then have to finish his mission afterward.

As I am older and wiser, all I can do is apologize for all the pain you’ve endured and any I have inflicted upon you on top of that. I would not wish it on anyone.

On that note, I hope that it is not a bad time, but I also have a favor to ask of you. It is not a request I make lightly, nor is it solely due to your influence, lest your head swell with so much hot air it carries you into the sky.

I wish to become a sorcerer. Or to return to service, rather, seeing as one never truly stops. It does not agree with me to sit idly on the sidelines when there is much I can do to prevent tragedy—to make sure others like Minami do not have to lose their lives to the work of adults. I trust that, once you pick your jaw up off the floor, you’ll do right by me.

For once, it is I who eagerly awaits a response.

Warmest regards,
[N’s name is smudged by what appears to be a thumbprint]

4th of Satsuki 1141

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In the interest of brevity, I won’t repeat everything I’ve already said in person except for two things that I believe deserve emphasis—you look well, and I am very happy to see you again.

I suspect we will have more time to speak in the future, but as you are currently occupied, I shall leave this beneath your door.

You’ve grown well. Taller, healthier. Grew right into those stunning cheekbones. I must confess, throughout our earlier correspondence, I was tempted on several occasions to scry on you. But fear not, I had restraint. It felt a little like cheating to me, to look upon you when you could not see me. I’m not sure why. I’ve never thought much of using the Six Eyes in such a way before. It may be confirmation bias, but I now know that seeing you in person was worth the wait.

Is it forward of me to say that I hope you feel the same?

Yaga will have you busy for quite some time, I’m sure. There’s a lot you have to relearn and many more things that have changed in your absence. I shan’t confirm nor deny whether I stopped so low as to eavesdrop, but know that I disapprove of this ‘probationary period’ nonsense. I don’t think you need it. Nevertheless, you know where to find me should you need help.

Now, you may be asking yourself why I would go so far out of my way to be so nice to you—or perhaps you have already figured it out with that big, beautiful brain in that gorgeous and proportionally sized head of yours. But just so we’re all on the same page, I shall say it plainly:

I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you.

There. I’ve said it. I’m sure you understand now why I chose to do it in writing. As such, I’m giving you leeway to call me a coward just once, so use it wisely. Hopefully you’ll find my poltroonery endearing rather than pathetic?

If you do not feel the same way, I would advise you to please disregard everything before and after this following paragraph (and perhaps burn those parts to remove all traces of my shame from this world).

If you would be amenable, I humbly ask you to make time for a guest lecture sometime this academic year. This current cohort strikes me more as a bunch of exorcists than scholars, and I believe they would greatly benefit from your immeasurable insight—especially a starry-eyed young man by the name of Ino Takuma. That’s it, that’s all I wanted to write to you about and there is absolutely nothing else worthy of note!!!!

And if you miraculously happen to reciprocate my feelings, please disregard that earlier part about disregarding everything. I’ll be in the Persimmon Valley tonight. I would love it if you joined me, because then that would mean I didn’t buy all this food for nothing. There will be candles, rose petals, a glimpse of my Domain, and—most importantly—me. I hope to see you there.

Red-faced but hopeful,
Satoru

17th of Kisaragi 1142

Hello, my Dear Heart,

By the time this reaches you, you will probably have arrived at those dreary, dreadful quarters home from your mission. I trust you are not hurt because if you are, I will be very cross with you. (And then I shall kiss each and every one of your wounds to make sure that they heal properly—but not before you learn to fear the infernal flames of my wrath!!!!!!!!)

If you are not too tired, perhaps you would like to take dinner tonight within the tower? Megumi is still out on his placement mission. Kusakabe mentioned it may take a few days. Weave knows what Tsumiki’s up to, though she's hardly ever home. She and Kirara have taken to giggling at me every time I enter a room and it is unsettling. Few things are more frightening than the seemingly random laughter of two teenage girls. But I digress.

The point I was trying to delicately tiptoe around is that we will be alone for the night. You know. Alone. I’m sure you and your active imagination need no further prompting. You certainly don’t need me to imply that you can stay the night or that we can get into all sorts of mischief throughout the evening. You’re very creative, after all…

Of course, since staying the night is such a regular occurrence for you, a more impatient man might just tell you to move in already. How’s that for implication?

Alas, I seem to have gotten ahead of myself. Perhaps this is a conversation better had after I’ve already worn you down with good wine and a tender embrace.

That’s enough out of me, we’ll talk more in person.

Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear—I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you!

Hopelessly devoted to you,
Sa-cchan

5th of Uzuki 1144

Hello, most dearly missed, devilishly handsome, dependably on-time Forever Love,

Could you pretty, pretty please bring me back a box of those cream puffs I like? I shall pay you back with a thousand kisses and a ‘special massage’ (no snakes this time).

Eternally indebted,
Satoru

P.S. I am definitely not planning a surprise for you or anything and I absolutely won’t be furious if you come back early.

5th of Uzuki 1144

Hello, my dear,

I lied. But it’s not a surprise party—it’s more permanent than that. And completely snake-free. I swear on my Six Eyes. All you need to bring is yourself, those cream puffs, and maybe a nice bottle of wine. Love you, miss you, see you soon!!

Disgustingly besotted,
Satoru

24th of Fumizuki 1146

Greetings, love,

You dropped a sock in the laundry room.

Kisses~

6th of Uzuki 1147

Your butt looks nice from back here.

31st of Kannazuki 1148

Infinitely, indescribably, immeasurably Beloved,

It should have been me.

30th of Shimotsuki 1148

I miss you.

Everything feels strange, still. Unreal, almost. Like this is a lingering nightmare, like I’ll open my eyes and you’ll be there and I’ll feel like such an idiot for ever imagining a world where you were just—gone.

Muscle memory is a powerful thing, I’ve learned. Your existence is so written into my flesh that I just… forget, sometimes. I buy too much food—too much bread. Too much to feed a family of four, let alone me all on my lonesome. You used to inhale entire loaves and now I have to throw out a moldy batch every few weeks. Sometimes Yuji will say something funny and I’ll turn to my left to repeat the joke but worse and meet empty air. I’ll go up to your floor in the tower and wander the rooms like I’ll find you in one of them. The library, your study, the sunroom, I see your shade everywhere. I still haven’t touched your side of the bed.

But you’re gone. Forever. And along with you are my chances to tell you everything I felt, all my opportunities to be wholly honest with you the way you deserved. I wrote to you for years, shared your bed just as long, and yet now the memories feel so silly and superficial, and that’s all my fault. I know that you knew. I know I didn't have to say anything. We loved each other beyond mere words. But if I was going to run my mouth all that time, shouldn’t I have said something of substance?

I should have told you that I knew I loved you from the moment we met. Do you remember it? I don’t know how memory works for ghosts. Perhaps the limits of your recollection persist from life, and I’m shit out of luck if you forgot that day. That’s fine. I remember it plenty for both of us.

You were a first-year and I a second. Yaga discovered you late, so you entered Haibara’s class halfway through the first semester. I remember being fascinated by a mageling from nowhere. A nobody from a nothing bloodline. I knew you had to be talented to catch the school’s eye, but ‘talent’ and ‘power’ were things I heavily misconstrued back then. Only Suguru and I were worthy of such titles, and that was because he was on par with me.

And in my defense, I beat you in half a second during your placement match. Yet even so, you caught my eye. You were fearless—in both the face of my reputation and in the face of your assignment. The Exorcists' Quadrant has the highest number of deserters for a reason. It’s a death sentence: you kill curses until one kills you. But you hardly even blinked. Of your cohort, you were the only one who belonged.

Would you believe me if I said that the moment I knew I was smitten was when you spat in my eye? You were a scrapper of a child. Test or no, you fought with a fervent desperation to live that I had never before considered. It’s part of why you were assigned to the exorcists. For my part, I had never known anyone quite like you. I was besotted.

Before you, I was not human. From the moment of my birth, I wanted for nothing. My parents hired clairvoyants to anticipate my whims, and money was no object, ever. It was not until I met you that I witnessed the beauty in frustration and yearning, all things I foolish disdained as beneath me. Strength was everything. Natural gifts and talent were far more impressive than struggle. Anyone can work hard. Only I—and then Suguru—stood above all others. It took me far too long to realize that such an enchanted life was nothing to be proud of.

When you left, I was lost. We were all children. I know now that we were all blameless, too absorbed in personal misery to note the suffering of others, including our so-called friends. It was no one’s fault except the world that we were born into. But I still felt like there was more that I could’ve done for you.

Part of the reason I started constructing my Domain was because I wanted you to think of me again. Little did I know that my selfishness would spiral into the happiest times of my life.

You are gone again, and it breaks my heart to put it to paper. But I am no longer lost. I’m older and wiser now. I understand our place in this world.

I’m to be a bridge between the old world and the new—a better place where no one will suffer the way we did. I began to teach for this very reason. We stand on the precipice of change, and it is my duty to help us all tip over. Yours was to be the guardian we never had.

I like to believe you would be happy to know I have not been swallowed up by grief, rather than resentful that I’ve not fallen into catatonia. It is not easy to keep shutting out that darkness. But it is doable. All the strength I’ve learned from watching you has taught me so.

I shall never forget you for as long as I live. I will think of you every day and every night, in each waking moment and every restless dream. There will not be a moment where I do not remind you in the great beyond of just how loved you are.

And speaking of love, Yuji sends his regards. I think you’d be proud of him. I certainly am. And I hope you’re proud of me too.

I love you, from now until the end of time. To the edge of the universe and back.

Forever and Faithfully,
Your Satoru

16th of Shiwasu 1148

My love,

I wish I could write with better news—though you probably know more than I do from your vantage point up above.

Somehow, we’ve reached the point where I genuinely wish that I lived in less noteworthy times, even if that means I’m no longer noteworthy. I would give anything just for the chance to take a breath. I wonder what they’ll call this era in the future. Would it be wishful thinking to believe that they’d name it after me?

As I look back on our letters, committing each character to memory, I find myself wanting to do something a bit different. I am struck by a need to set my roots down, so to speak—to examine my legacy through the lens of my successors. Some may say that’s self-centered, or even fatalist of me. Don’t worry, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I simply wish to voice my appreciation for how beautifully the flowers in my metaphorical garden have bloomed. If I tried to do so to their faces, they would’ve run away screaming. But I’ve found a captive audience in you, haven’t I? This letter is going on top of the meal I’ve laid upon your altar, so you’ll have to read it before you can get to any of the good stuff!

Yuta’s surpassed all expectations—although that in itself is what I expected of him, I suppose. You know my feelings toward my supposedly superior bloodline, but I think this is one instant where I do not mind having kin. There’s already talk of us as equals, and though Yuta demurs, we all know it’s right. Whatever gorge exists between us in sorcery, he makes up for it with his heart. Smiles do not come easily to him, but there is warmth—and like the sun, I know in time that others will turn their faces to him for guidance. He no longer looks to me. That’s a blessing.

He reminds me of you in many respects. I think it’s his melancholic compassion met with wordless devotion. He’s even taken to parting his hair the same way you did, though he doesn’t slick it back.

Seeing as you watch over Megumi in my absence (I know you do, no need to rattle any furniture to prove your existence), I trust I don’t need to apprise you of any changes. He still slumbers, soul slowly piecing itself back together after finally wresting Sukuna from his body. But he is getting stronger. I swear I felt him squeeze my hand as I sat by his bedside this morning.

He’s grown so much from the little boy I plucked off the street all those years ago. He looks younger when he sleeps—though that’s all he can do these days. It reminds me of the day you two first met. Two of the most serious people I’ve ever known (I know, I know, you must be to compensate for me) just stood around, apparently communicating via telepathy. I don’t think he ever told you, but he really did like you a lot. When I first asked him how he’d feel about you living with us, he told me it didn’t matter as long as I was happy. But I could tell by the glimmer in his eye that, of all the men in the world, he was glad I found you.

When he awakens—for it is not a matter of ‘if’—it will be in a world changed. No Calamity, no curses, and he’ll be free of all this needless suffering. He’s quite catlike in how he always manages to land on his feet. Until that day comes, however, I must ask that you and Tsumiki take care of him for me.

And of course, there is the vessel (unintentional) of this brave new world, Itadori Yuji. He’s been writing to you too, so I hear. We share incense sometimes.

I know a thing or two about having the weight of the world suddenly thrust upon one’s shoulders. Yuji bears it with a smile—which is more than snotty six year-old Satoru could claim. And that’s without taking into account what I was like at his age, of which you need no reminder. I was worried about Yuji for a little while, in truth. He was not lacking in purpose or drive, but there was a hollow, blank look in his eyes that I assume he thought he was hiding well. I’m glad that he hasn’t forgotten how to laugh.

Yuji is stronger than he knows. Whatever he wants to do about the Merger, whether he’ll cleave the Weave from this realm or enmesh us inextricably, he has my utmost support.

And these three are not the only ones I could go on about. There’s Maki, who’s taken to wearing her name ‘the Mundane’ with pride. It won’t be her only title, she reasons. I don’t doubt she’ll give me a run for my money in epithets. Hakari and Kirara have proven that lawlessness does not mean evil. Even Kusakabe’s taken on an apprentice, which under any other circumstances would be taken as a sign of the end of times.

I suppose all of this is to say that… the world doesn’t need me anymore.

And I don’t mean this in a tragic way at all. I’m not about to walk into the sea or anything (it’s much too cold for that). It’s just that every now and then, I remember how you and I would ponder our futures. How you said there was more to life than sorcery, how you longed to return to the bay and truly enjoy the beach. I balked at this vision, at the time. I love you, and I would go anywhere you asked, but the thought of being unneeded frightened me. As much as I hated being the strongest, the unknown was just as despicable. I thought my work would never be done, and I think some small part of me tried to make it so.

Yet, here I am, finally understanding that a world that could go on without me was the world that I needed all along.

I like to think that if you were still around, you wouldn’t need me either. But you would want me, and that’s a thousand times better.

I wonder what you look like now—if I’ve made you misty-eyed with that line, or if you’re red-faced in embarrassed anger. I bet you’re being waited on hand and foot by divine servants, just eating up all the shortbread that one can find in the heavens. I hope you are. The thought of that makes me smile.

Imagining you as a pudgy cat,
Satoru

23rd of Shiwasu 1148

Hello, Darling,

This may be the last letter that I ever write.

But even so, my hand does not shake, and I do not waver. I cannot afford to falter, not when the fate of the realm rests in my hands. I am hunched over in a corner with a witchlight on my knee. I am not taking any pauses to think. The words pour forth from me like a stream to the sea.

I’ve said before that I wished to live in less interesting times. Now I really mean it. I’ve been dreaming about it, what that world might look like.

We’d live on that beach, fending off hungry sea serpents with wards before we start feeding it gigantic sturgeon and find ourselves a terrifying new pet. Instead of terrorizing you with fire messages, I’d do so with my voice and by poking fingers into your ribs. I would burn in the sun, but you’d turn a healthy, enticing tan. We would feast on tropical fruit and drink from coconuts, whiling away our days curled up together in a hammock. I would declare my love for you in writing up and down the white sands, and although you’d be mortified at first, you would allow it with the knowledge that the tide would wipe it all away. We wouldn’t have to wake until mid-morning—’til the afternoon, even—and we’d do so in each other’s arms. You would complain about my morning breath, and I would correct you on the time of day, and we still wouldn’t get out of bed for hours. That’s how we would be for the rest of our lives. And we would be happy.

I hope you are happy, wherever you are.

I think of you often. I will never stop loving you until the very concept of loving ceases to exist.

It is impossible to forecast a fight against the King of Curses, but the students and I have prepared for every eventuality. I want to win. But if I don’t, it is a loss I shall accept without regrets. I will go knowing that I’ve left the world in good hands—this world that you loved so dearly and died to protect.

And if I should find you on the other side, I would leap into your arms with enough force to knock you right over. Not even the gods themselves could pry us apart.

So, wait for me, my love. (And maybe start working on that upper body, now that I’ve given you fair warning.) We have a lot to make up for, don’t we? Whether we do so tomorrow, or in a hundred years.

I love you.

Endlessly,
Your Beloved Satoru