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From the moment Satoru was born, there was a 100 million bounty on his head. That’s what happens when you shift the world’s balance just by being brought into it. Like any other person, Satoru did not ask for this life.
He did not wish to be a clan heir, let alone be its pride and joy. He did not wish to be born with such a unique nature. He did not wish to be born into Jujutsu. He did not wish to be born the strongest.
Fate has a funny way of delivering gifts that were not asked for.
His childhood was abnormal, to say the least. Parents sheltering him as if he was made of glass (the complete opposite, really), relatives smothering him with praise and expectations. Stalkers and hitmen tried to relent but to no avail. Then came Suguru—his one and only.
Satoru never expected to meet someone who had the same experiences as him, and when he did, he certainly did not expect to become so fond of them. For once, in this forsaken world, his youth was normal. Something that he had wished for finally manifested. Suguru brings out Satoru’s best side, the person he trusted and understood the most—the only person to see him as more than a weapon.
And yet, that only person left him.
Fate is also extremely cruel.
Shoko vividly remembers the first time she met the two boys. It was the first day of Jujutsu High, and there were two handsome teenagers, one with piercings and the other standing out with his blue eyes and white hair. One looked focused, and the other had a sour wince the entire day of orientation.
Suguru and she quickly got along; he was kind, and she accepted. Satoru joined the mix when he was arguing with Suguru on a mission Yaga assigned the three of them. Years later, she can’t even remember what they were fighting about, only remembering the outcome of their trio. Shoko gave them a good compromise and stood in the middle of them to act as a mediator. The title stuck after the two got closer and closer, eventually just having Shoko there for decoration. Or, well, in her eyes, that’s what she saw.
Hanging out with Satoru felt like a requirement after Suguru defected. And that chore continued after his death, Satoru following her through every bar, restaurant, jazz club, etc. Even though he was a lightweight. Many times she questioned why she always found herself back to hanging out with him—they never had anything in common. Ever since they were kids. This ‘spending time together as old friends’ thing was becoming a formality. And yet, she always makes sure she’s free Saturday nights just for him.
Satoru always acknowledged Shoko’s existence, moreso he believed he did. If anyone were to ask, he could confidently say that she’s a close friend or something in that caliber. When it came to terms of thinking about the depth of their friendship, his mind blanked. The thought didn’t even occur to him. He felt her hand curve around his bicep as they walked timidly to her apartment. She reeks of beer and cigarette ash, nothing new. A sinking feeling in her gut. That. That was new. “You know what's gonna happen in Shibuya, right? You’ll be hauling ass down there soon.”
“Shibuya? Sounds like just another mission to me.”
“Right. Cause you're the strongest.”
“Thought we established this already?” He chuckled. “You don’t sound so sure. Penny for your thoughts?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go.” she blurts out in one quick jumble of words without thinking. Immediately wondered why she said that so quickly.
“And miss out on all the Halloween fun? No way.” Satoru was a bit taken aback by her hesitant tone—unusual for the aloof Shoko. “Why do you say that?”
“...I just got a bad feeling. It’s weird.” She cleared her throat.
Satoru ran a confident hand through his hair.“What? You don’t got faith in me anymore, Sho? I always exceed in my missions. Danger is my middle name.”
“Your middle name is Timothee.” Shoko deadpans—her brows furrow. “I’m not saying I don’t trust your ability. Something’s just not right. I don’t think you should go.” She says outright. That was the best way she could articulate her gut feeling while being intoxicated. She suddenly remembers Suguru, and how Satoru never even let her get a final look at his corpse. She was pissed about that. That was her best friend, too, who deserved at least a proper burial .
She never understood his intentions behind that. Satoru just didn’t want to make her dissect their friend’s body.
The rest of the walk is silent, and Satoru chalks her reluctance up to her being drunk. His default smile drops as he thinks about her words and sudden bad ‘feeling.’ Shoko doesn’t speak her mind like that, so when she does, it’s hard for him to push aside as much as he wants to.
Loneliness was a syndrome Satoru suffers from—or chooses to suffer from. Twelve years and the man still refuses to understand Suguru’s decision. It’s almost like he’s not even trying to move on in life and assess what he already has right in front of him. Trauma is real, and so is loneliness, but Satoru had the upper hand here. He chose to be alone.
He glances down at Shoko, clinging onto his arm, walking wobbly. She lets go when they reach her apartment complex. He stands outside as she walks through the sliding doors. Not stopping to say goodbye or anything, deciding to trust Satoru over her gut. Trust that she will see him once more.
His mind traces back to each time she’d call or visit after something bad happened. The night after Suguru defected, she was at his dorm, and they sat in a comforting silence. The time his head laid in her lap, tears drenched her pants after he left that alleyway where Suguru was. With every injury and every breakdown, he was ‘alone.’ Lonely. By himself.
And there was Shoko.
Only, he realized too late.
I was there too, wasn’t I?
So what do you mean “alone?”
You idiot!