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Gojo Satoru.
Certain names have more value in the world, and yours have two.
Gojo, from the great Gojo clan. You were their scion: A reckoning and a saviour.
And Satoru, a name against your own power.
Are you strong through that name? Or does that name make you strong?
Honestly? I don’t care.
I know you knew that.
I know you even revelled in it.
Your name meaning something anonymous and new to someone. I’m aware that was my appeal to you for many years. You liked that I challenged you and didn’t find you impressive. It was a game for you, like everything else was.
I think if… if you’d just stayed that way. If you kept me at a distance and made yourself a zoo animal at my discomfort, then it would be easy to ignore you.
It would be easy to hate you, because it is difficult to love you.
To ignore the way you made my heart pound; to ignore the sincere smiles you'd forgotten to hide; to ignore the truth’s you’d spilt on me like blood-red sauce on a starch white shirt.
I could never get the stain out.
I never got rid of that shirt.
I know that would hurt you to hear, but it’s true. And it’s your own fault. You reject love because you think it is weak, a curse, but I saw the way you withered when you learned of Megumi’s fate.
Not having a good father did not preclude you from being one. I saw what Geto’s betrayal did to you, but I know you’d protect the rest of us with your dying breaths.
I wish you didn’t. I want to hate you for it. I think some part of me does and always will.
So come back. Come back to me so I can yell at you. So I can tell you all the things you did wrong.
So I can forgive you. Because I’ve always forgiven you. Because I understand that heart which you kept behind your thickest barrier.
So I can say—
No. You don’t get that from me. You only get to find out if you come back. You know how stubborn I am.
And because of that, I will wait for you.
Just don’t let me sit here waiting for you. At least not more than you already have.
You always talked about power. Held it over the rest of us like an executioner's axe. It never mattered that you knew the weight of it. You knew, and it didn’t hurt any less when you had turned it on yourself.
I never wanted to watch you bleed. I never wanted to see the light fade from your eyes like the very last star in the sky.
I stare at the stain on my otherwise bleached shirt, and scrunch my eyes closed and try to think of any other colour.
Behind my eyelids, I see only blue.