Chapter Text
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Part I
Chapter 1
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He’s never had any sense of responsibility. The missions he's accomplished, the people he's saved, all of them were nothing more than a by-product of being the strongest sorcerer.
He wasn’t equipped to care about the weak. He was never taught how.
How could a man at the pinnacle of strength understand those who couldn’t even protect themselves? Pain bore empathy, and Satoru had never felt pain, nor struggle, nor hardship.
That’s why they kept him on a tight leash, why they scrutinized his every move.
They couldn’t risk him turning against them.
Tremendous power was never meant to be condensed into one man. It was inconceivable that they had to entrust their future in Gojo Satoru’s hands, but they couldn’t deny his power and the status that came along with it.
Yaga Masamichi felt compelled to bow his head as he listened to the council’s complaints. It was part of his role as their teacher, to be castigated for his students’ every misstep, from their tomfoolery to the terror their innate abilities instilled.
Monsters, they called them. A cruel honor they bestowed upon those whose powers they could neither understand nor control.
Satoru was never destined to remain at Jujutsu High. It was inevitable that he would leave as all special grade sorcerers did. Suguru’s betrayal only confirmed what’s already been set on stone - like Suguru, Satoru would forsake them too; Like Suguru, he would forge his own path.
Did they expect him to remain their obedient puppet? To follow their orders without question and confine himself to Jujustu High; teaching students while taking on gruelling missions that kept him away for weeks at a time?
Like Suguru, Satoru was bound to disappear too.
Like Suguru, he would abandon them too.
What puzzled Yaga was what had taken him so long. Why did it take him years-years after high school, years after Suguru’s betrayal, years after he’s taken in a ward of his own-before he decided to leave.
It happened during a typical day. After one of his special missions abroad, gruelling missions that’ve become routine to him, Gojo Satoru was marked boarded on his flight back home from Istanbul. But when his plane landed in Tokyo, Satoru was nowhere to be found. His bags would turn up in different international airports, and all his personal effects would be scattered around the globe, leaving no trace of where he truly was.
Satoru had fallen off the radar. His mobile, unreachable for months until the search was called off.
It was impossible for him to be in danger, that was what the council had decided. He was too strong to be susceptible to any attack. The only logical conclusion was that his disappearance was intentional. It was planned.
What took him so long. The council asked Yaga, turning the blame on him for the disappearance of the strongest sorcerer, of their last line of defense.
Yaga had no answers to give them. They shared the same question.
None of them could’ve fathom that Satoru would disappear years after he’d taken the young Fushiguro Megumi under his wing, after touring the young boy around Tokyo, showing him the slick tips and tricks of using cursed energy-a talent reserved only for the strong and talented like him; he said. Megumi didn’t believed him. He thought it was impossible for someone so young to be the most powerful sorcerer. So, with a disinterested expression as he walked ahead with his shikigami, cloaked in thick, warm winter clothes; his nose and plump cheeks pink, he convinced himself that the obnoxious Satoru was talking out of his ass.
He knew he didn’t need to look for him, Yaga thought with a stubborn huff when he was finally dismissed from the meeting. He wasn’t going anywhere and Satoru knew where Jujutsu High was. He’d return when he wanted-if he wanted.
Yaga could only hope that Satoru had finally chosen to live for himself; that he’s lost in the world in search of the happiness he would’ve been deprived of as a sorcerer.
“He never said anything to you?” Yaga asked Shoko sometime later, while escorting her on a rescue mission. The young doctor could only turn to him with a curious arch of her brow; and she soon starts laughing.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, principal.” Shoko chuckled good-naturedly.
“It was always just him and Suguru.” Shoko smiled to herself as they walked down the corridor of the dimly lit building, her eyes looking up at image of the backs of two tall young men walking in front of her. “We’re not as close as you think.” She shook her head at the image and laughed to herself emptily. “If you really want to know where he is,” She mused as they reached the medical facility prepared especially for her, “You can always ask his best friend.”
Yaga’s eyes widened.
“You don’t think…”
“No one’s a moron like Suguru.” She cuts him off with a tired smile before her sensei could jump to any conclusions and dipped her head, slipping into her protective medical gear. “But Satoru’s pretty close.”
“So he just really left, huh.” Yaga sighed in resignation, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He had little to no expectations from his students. But with Satoru, he had held out a sliver of hope; that like him, he would serve as a pillar for the youth. Even for Satoru, Yaga realized; it had been a stretch.
Satoru left; and it was time he accepted it.
“Hm.” Shoko nodded as she reached out for the scalpel beside her and dove right in, slicing open the pale skin of the bloated corpse lying on the steel plate before her.
She had more important things to attend to, the back of her mind mused as her hand expertly glided across the dead man’s skin. She was always exhausted. But only she could do this. She picked up the steel clamp from her tray and pried open the corpse’s ribcage.
Suguru, Satoru, and Nanami now too.
Shoko frowned, lost in thought; and she wipes the beads of sweat on her forehead with the back of her arm.
Was she a fool for sticking around? She asked herself in a daze, the corpse lying before her growing blurry; the solitary overhead light buzzing in a muted hum. The days passed before her and soon blended into one another that she doesn’t realize she was sitting on a park bench and staring blankly into space; her eyes dark, dry, and exhausted.
Empty. She thought the word was. Like the tray of cadavers piling up in her morgue, she felt empty.
“Shoko!”
Shoko looked over her shoulder, and a smile creeps up her lips.
“Sorry, we’re late!” Utahime was waving at her from down the other end of the park, her hair in her pigtails, a blue cap on her head and a tote bag filled with merchandise on her arm. Behind her, two children chased after her; the three of them, a sight for sore eyes in their matching baseball outfits.
“Some drunk uncle collapsed at the station!” Tsumiki exclaimed animatedly, out of breath and heart pumping from the adrenaline of helping out that drunk uncle, to the game, and the rush to meet her at the park on time. “We helped out, ne Megumi?” She turned to her quiet younger brother with a bright smile.
“Hm.” Megumi gave a low grunt and it was all it took for Tsumiki to beam.
“Really?” Shoko gave the children a warm smile and chuckled. “I hope it wasn’t too much work.”
“Iie!” Tsumiki volunteered once again and patted Megumi’s back. “It was nothing!”
“That’s ‘cause Iori-san did all the work…” Megumi grumbled under his breath, embarrassed; and Tsumiki’s eyes widened; and she flushed red.
“Iie!” She insisted. “You helped call the station attendant!”
“…I just followed you to him.”
Utahime and Shoko shared a gaze; and they burst out laughing, amused by the siblings’ cute little squabble; with Tsumiki determined to build her brother’s confidence, and Megumi, resolute to looking like he didn’t care.
“You look thinner.” Shoko’s eyes drifted to Utahime whose brows rose, and thought to point it out.
“Uso! (That’s impossible!)” Utahime’s mouth comically hung agape in shock. “I drink beer everyday!”
Shoko couldn’t keep from laughing.
“I think you just admitted that you’re an alcoholic in front of the children.” She teased her and Utahime paled.
“Geh!” The young sorceress cried in horror, eyes darting at the children who were, thankfully, lost in their own conversation.
“I’d recommend that you not overwork yourself if it was only possible…” Shoko gave her friend a wistful smile. “So,” Shoko turned at the three baseball fans and grinned. “Where shall we have dinner?”
The three exchanged looks and soon shared the same grin. The next thing Shoko knew, Utahime rose her hand and like a beacon, led them downtown.
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