Work Text:
Shoko! Don’t become like those two, okay?
How grossly ironic those words had become.
Shoko didn’t end up becoming like Gojo and Geto, because they were dead, and she is still alive.
Shoko never considered she would be the only one left. But, here she is. She should have never expected predictably from the world.
She put out her cigarette, not even waiting before lighting another one. She had quit smoking five years ago, but she started again back during the Shibuya incident. One would think the pack a day smoker borderline alcoholic would have died a long time ago. Yet she was still here.
Shoko tried to not get lost in her emotions about it.
Haibara died when they were still students, it was cruel and unavoidable.
Geto had died a year ago, killed by Gojo, his body was never even brought to her.
Nanami died during Shibuya.
Yaga, though not a friend, was put up for execution after the Shibuya incident. The higher up thought he had a part in the whole thing. They thought Geto was alive, they thought Gojo was working with them.
She was left to wonder why the fuck she was left out.
She was classmates with Gojo and Geto. She had signed Geto’s death certificate. She lied about Yuji being dead. She was in Shibuya with Yaga.
Shouldn’t she have been seen as guilty too?
But she wasn’t considered a part of that.
She was always being left out, she never let it bother her.
But sometimes, she wishes that they had remembered she was there as well. Through it all she was there, she was supposed to be their friend, they were her friends. She cared about them, she would have helped.
And now they are all dead.
Even the undefeatable Gojo was dead.
Shoko is all that is left.
Finishing her second cigarette she pressed into the overflowing ashtray. This time instead of lighting another she grabbed a nearby bottle of whisky and filled the glass on her desk.
The most fucked up part, Shoko had to admit to herself, was almost everyone died over the course of the year. Only Haibara managed to escape that by dying 11 years prior.
One year, and all her friends are gone. That is just how it goes as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.
She didn’t have time to be sad, not for herself, not for her lost friends. She had work to do.
Silently with her drink nearby, paper work at hand, Shoko wondered what death would be like.
If anything, she hoped it would be kind.