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Satoru's footsteps against the stone pavement are deafening in the abandoned Zen'in estate. He goes through the entrance gate, noting how it's left open instead of shut tight and guarded like how he remembers it.
It has been forever since he last stepped into this place, but he can still vividly remember the small figure of his childhood friend Naoya following him around and asking to play with him, waving at him from the gate and calling his name, greeting him whenever he visits and saying, "See you later, Satoru-kun!" Whenever he's leaving the estate.
He looks around at the pitiful state of the buildings. Some of them are completely destroyed, while some look like they might collapse at any moment. There are broken stone tiles and pieces of wood everywhere, along with splatters and pools of blood that have dried.
Satoru actually expected worse. He expected a sea of dead, decaying bodies, smell of rotting flesh, curses roaming about…
Speaking of dead bodies, he wonders what happened to them. Were they buried? Completely destroyed? Used as research specimens? Maybe Shoko knows. He should've asked her before he went here.
He wonders what Naoya’s corpse looked like and how he died, if there's anything left of him at all…
The sound of water splashing brings his attention to the pond, and he notices a frog swimming inside it. Aside from the amphibian, there are some Koi fishes swimming about, along with a bunch of dead ones, too.
A distant memory surfaces in his mind.
During a clan meeting one summer day, Naoya chased a beetle without looking and tripped on a particularly big rock, sending him straight into the pond. A fish got into his yukata and he grabbed it only to get smacked in the face by the creature. Little Satoru laughed at him, the younger boy's face looking absolutely dumbfounded before he laughed along with him.
“It's the first time I hear you laugh, Satoru-kun!” he said with a silly grin, his entire body dripping wet and specks of green algae stuck to his hair and clothes.
Later that day, he saw Naoya get smacked across his face for making a fool of himself in front of members of other clans. His father, Naobito, pulled Naoya harshly towards a building, and the little boy turned to look at Satoru, gave him a small wave of his hand as he retreated, silently saying goodbye. All he could do was wave back.
This particular memory stuck with him because he expected Naoya to cry, but he didn’t. The way he looked just… weirded him out.
Thinking about it now, little Satoru didn't understand what was happening to his friend, but even back then he thought the Zen'in clan had a nasty air around them. The Zen’ins to him were either insignificant or obnoxious, except Naoya who he actually liked quite a bit and the only kid he could relate to since they're close in age, had similar interests, and social standing as heirs to their respective clans.
He had never liked Naobito, the stinky catfish geezer. Same goes for Naoya's brothers, whose names he didn’t even bother remembering. All he remembered is how all of their names start with Nao and they’re all pathetic bullies who were always grouped together and looked at Naoya, the youngest of the siblings and the chosen heir, with apparent disdain.
There were also Naoya's uncles who looked like they got a stick shoved up their asses and are probably plotting for Naobito or Naoya's murder.
The Zen'ins suck. Period. He doesn't consider Maki and Megumi as Zen'ins so they suck less even if they have some of that Zen'in brand of obnoxiousness. Toji? He doesn't even want to think about that guy.
As for his feelings towards Naoya now…
Satoru continues walking and makes his way towards one corner of the estate, to a dilapidated old warehouse. This building seems to have fared better than the rest of the estate, due to its secluded placement. He opens the door and goes inside, greeted by a dusty upright piano sitting on one side of the room. He opens the fallboard and presses a finger on one of the keys.
It makes a dull sound.
His hands move to play a piece he remembers by heart, fingers moving based on muscle memory.
"Isn't it cool?" Naoya bounced excitedly on his heels, eagerly waiting for his response. His eyes sparkling in anticipation.
"I guess," Satoru replied, never having touched a piano before. "But why is it all the way over here?"
"So I won't bother anyone when playing," Naoya answered, sitting himself on the chair and opening the fallboard. He placed some music sheets on it, to which Satoru narrowed his eyes.
Ga…uotto? Gavot? Gosekku? What does that mean?
"The others don't like hearing me play, so they moved the piano here." The younger boy’s fingers started moving to press the keys. He played an unfamiliar tune, which sounded quite pleasant and whimsical. Satoru sat next to his friend and listened as he watched his fingers move.
“Why don’t they like hearing you play? I think it sounds nice. I like it,” he commented once Naoya finished the piece. The younger boy beamed at him, face flushing adorably.
“Really? Do you like it? You like hearing me play?”
Satoru nodded. Was it such a big deal?
"Do you wanna try playing with me?" Naoya offered, and Satoru shook his head.
"I don't know how," he responded. Naoya grabbed his hand and moved it towards the keys.
"I'll teach you! You can play the right hand part and I play the left hand!"
They played until the sun set and the attendants came looking.
He entered the warehouse a second time a month later. He couldn't find Naoya at the meeting that day so he went to look for him. As he approached the building, he could hear the sound of the piano.
It was loud and sounded very violent.
He opened the warehouse door and paused at the sound and sight.
Intense, aggressive noise assaulted his ears. He stood still at the entrance, watching the younger boy hitting the keys fiercely, his eyes burning coldly.
He slowly walked inside and closed the door behind him. As he proceeded further, his foot caught onto something, which prompted him to look down. He saw pieces of paper littered on the floor.
Pieces of music sheet.
"Naoya?" He tried calling him, but his voice was easily drowned by the piano’s sound. The other boy kept smashing the keys without mercy.
Satoru stood still, feet rooted to the floor of the warehouse.
His friend was clearly angry and upset, but there's also something else that made him feel like his chest was being pricked with needles.
He silently walked behind Naoya and disabled his Infinity. His arms wound around his friend’s midsection and he rested his head on the younger's shoulder. Naoya froze, hands pausing over the keys. Satoru could see his friend’s hands trembling and he gave his friend a tight embrace, just like how his mother did whenever he's upset.
Naoya’s shoulders started shaking and he bit his lip so hard it drew blood. His eyes started to water and he sniffed before finally breaking down in tears. Satoru tightened his hold, staying silent as he watched his friend cry his heart out.
“What’s wrong?” He started after Naoya's crying was reduced to occasional sniffles. The younger boy glanced towards the floor, staring at the scattered pieces of music sheets with watery eyes, saying nothing.
"It’s okay, we can fix it," Satoru gently bumped his head against his friend's, "we just need a tape to put them together."
"They'll just destroy it again," Naoya countered weakly, wiping tears off his face.
"Then we'll fix it again."
"I don't wanna, it's tiring," Naoya sighed, looking down dejectedly, "I'm... I'm so tired, Satoru-kun."
The way his friend looked made Satoru feel really bad and he didn’t know why. He didn't know what to do.
“Then, what are you gonna do?” he asked, moving to sit next to his friend.
“I’ll just… remember. I’ll play every day so I won’t forget how to play it.”
Satoru hummed, placing his hands on the keys and playing random notes.
“I wanna try to remember too,” he said. “So if you forget, I can help you remember.”
He entered the warehouse for the third and last time a month later. He sensed the other boy inside, just sitting motionlessly.
"Naoya?" He called him as he pushed the door open. His friend stayed still, staring down at the piano keys.
Satoru stepped closer, eyebrows knitted. His Six Eyes noticed something peculiar.
Naoya’s cursed energy felt different. It looked different, too, sharp and spiky as opposed to the usual gentle slopes and peaks.
His eyes traveled downward, to the hands resting on the boy's lap. Both of Naoya's hands were wrapped in thick bandages.
"Satoru-kun. Sorry, I can't play anything today," the younger boy turned to address him, expression blank. It was off-putting.
"What happened to your hands?" Satoru approached his friend, frowning. Naoya turned to look at the object in front of him.
"My brothers crushed them with the lid."
Satoru instantly clenched his fists, and he could feel himself shaking. He gritted his teeth, trying not to scream profanities.
"... I'll beat them up."
"It's okay. I already did," Naoya shrugged. "I broke their arms and legs so they can’t move. But… I ruined my hands more because of it."
Satoru blinked, not expecting the younger kid to have done that. "I wish I had seen you beat them up," he said, taking a seat next to Naoya. "Was it awesome?"
"I dunno. Dad was laughing and bragging about my Cursed Technique to Ogi so I guess it was?" Naoya shrugged, indifferent. "I was just hurting all over, didn't really think of much else."
Satoru grimaced in disgust, not liking the thought of Naoya’s loser brothers ganging up on him and the mention of that stinky catfish geezer. The old man must have refused to let healers use Reversed Cursed Technique on Naoya, too. Blech.
Naoya stayed quiet, and Satoru didn't like it. He didn't know what to say whenever Naoya behaved like this, so he did the only thing he could think of and placed his hands on the keys.
"Want me to play a song for you?" he asked, to which the younger boy nodded.
Satoru complied, playing Gossec’s Gavotte with practised ease.
Once the piece came to end, he turned to look at Naoya, who had stayed silent during the entire recital.
He's crying.
He didn't look sad. He just looked… completely neutral. His eyes stared down at his trembling hands, tears running silently down his face.
"Nao-"
Before Satoru managed to get a word out, the younger boy stood up and ran out of the warehouse before disappearing into thin air.
Satoru took a moment to process what just happened, then went to look for his friend using the residual cursed energy he left behind.
So that's Naoya's cursed technique? He remembered someone talking about it but he forgot what it was called. All he remembered was it having something to do with stinky catfish geezer being the fastest sorcerer.
He found the younger boy in his room minutes later, curled up inside his futon .
"Naoya?" Satoru crouched down and placed his hand on top of the covers. He can feel Naoya trembling underneath, crying silently.
"Why are you crying?" He asked. The other boy said nothing and kept crying, refusing to respond even when Satoru said goodbye and had to return to Gojo Estate.
He hasn't heard nor seen Naoya play the piano since then.
Satoru closes the fallboard and inspects the piano's insides. Not finding what he's looking for, he briskly makes his way out of the warehouse and into one of the buildings.
He passes through the training hall, which is filled with broken roof tiles and wooden beams. Of course, there are signs of bloodshed in here, too.
This used to be one of the best buildings in the estate, deliberately built in such a way to showcase the Zen'in clan's might to both clansmen and visitors from other clans.
Little Satoru didn't have much interest in watching sweaty guys go at each other, so he rarely visited this part of the estate. His friend, on the other hand, had to spend a lot of time here after he awakened his cursed technique, so of course he had to go visit this place occasionally to pick him up and pester to play with him.
"Satoru-kun!" Naoya jogged towards him from the middle of the arena before throwing himself onto Satoru.
"No, gross! You're sweaty!" Satoru whined, blocking Naoya with his Infinity.
Naoya puffed out his cheeks indignantly but he recovered almost instantly with a grin, clearly in a good mood. "You saw me, right? You saw me beat the other guy up?" He bounced in his steps, eagerly waiting for his response as they made their way towards the less-populated side of the building. “That guy’s two times bigger than me, but you saw how I easily sent him flying, right? It was awesome, right?”
Satoru hummed, feigning indifference and picking his nose mockingly. "I dunno, did you? I didn’t see anything.”
Satoru did, in fact, see what Naoya did. He moved at astonishing speed and sent his opponent ricocheting from one spot to another, like that game he saw on TV. It’s as if Naoya was playing a huge game of ping pong. It was kinda funny.
“No way, you were there! I saw you! You were watching me!”
“Nah, don’t remember,” Satoru stuck his tongue out, really enjoying teasing the younger boy.
“Satoru-kuuuun,” Naoya pouted again, grabbing his arms and swinging him back and forth.
He giggled at the younger boy’s antics, until Naoya tipped way too forward and hit his forehead against his chest.
“Oof,” Satoru looked down at Naoya, wondering if he’s mad at him. "What was that for?"
He froze in alarm when he saw red on his clothes, and his eyes looked up to see the scarlet liquid slowly trickling down his friend’s nose.
“Oi, are you okay?” He grabbed Naoya’s shoulder with one hand and steadied his head with the other. He looked like he’s about to pass out.
Before Satoru opened his mouth to call for help, the younger boy quickly grabbed his arm, regained some of his bearings, and wiped the blood off his nose with his sleeve.
“Mm. ‘M okay,” he finally replied, his body wobbling a little. Satoru narrowed his eyes, noticing how Naoya looked a bit unsteady and unfocused.
“Are you sure?”
“Mm. Just need to rest a little,” he grabbed his hand and silently urged him to go. Satoru complied and accompanied him to his room. He helped Naoya change (during which he saw some nasty bruises, which the younger boy dismissed as ones he got during training) and brought a meal for him.
“Are you okay now? Can we play something now?” Satoru impatiently nudged Naoya right after he finished his meal, making the utensils clatter dangerously. The boy seemed to be okay enough to glare and give Satoru a smack on his arm.
“I don't think I can move much, so maybe board games?” He went to take the tray out then made his way to his closet to grab a shogi set.
“Sure,” Satoru sighed. It’s better than nothing, he thought. At least they got to play something today.
They played for a little while before their game ended abruptly. It’s in the middle of Satoru’s turn that another drop of blood came out of Naoya’s nose, hitting the wooden board they were playing on.
“Oh no, not again,” Satoru moved the board aside and wiped the blood off Naoya’s face with his thumb. He pushed the boy so he laid on his back on the tatami .
Satoru briskly pulled Naoya’s futon out of the closet and dumped it haphazardly on the floor before heading to open the shoji . “You’re gonna lie down and I’m gonna call for help.”
“You don’t need to.”
Satoru turned his head so fast he got whiplash. “What?”
“No one will help me because they can't,” Naoya said offhandedly as he got himself into the futon .
“What? Why?!”
“Because I have to get used to this.”
Satoru could only stare back at his friend. He didn’t understand. “Get used to being sick?! Why?”
“I’m not sick,” Naoya sighed, “It’s just my body changing because of my Innate Cursed Technique. Dad said I have to get used to it. Nobody is allowed to use Reversed Cursed Technique or give me medicines until then.”
Satoru frowned, not liking the sound of it one bit.
“Projection Sorcery users like me and my dad move super fast, you know? Well, normal human bodies aren't really built for that, so… this happens. Our bodies need to adjust… to accommodate the technique.” Naoya, clearly reciting what his dad told him, shrugged like it’s no big deal.
“This is nothing. When I did Projection for the first time, my entire body hurt really bad, I couldn’t move for a week and there was much more blood than this.”
Naoya’s remark did nothing to reassure him. "It's not nothing if it makes you so sick you can't get out of bed," Satoru knitted his brows, exasperated.
Naoya sank further into his bed, half-covering his face. His hands clutched the edges of his blanket tightly, "... Can't be helped," he mumbled, "have to get used to it."
“That sucks.” Satoru huffed indignantly. He dropped his entire body to the floor, letting out a dramatic groan. “This sucks! Can't play anything with you.”
Even before he awakened his technique, Naoya already got injured and sick a lot, and it annoyed him to no end because he couldn’t do anything. He wanted to play tag, hide and seek, badminton , soccer… and he couldn't do that if Naoya got stuck in bed because he’s too sick or too sad or too tired.
Naoya stayed silent as he buried his face under the covers. Satoru laid down next to him, wondering if he made the younger boy cry.
“How about shiritori ?” Naoya asked gingerly, half his face peeking out.
Satoru took the offer. “ Ringo .”
Naoya went quiet for a while.
“Go ... Gomen ,” he said, scrunching his eyes shut before he curled himself hidden under the covers.
Satoru sighed. Naoya's definitely crying now.
“Are you okay?” he asked, removing the fabric to uncover the boy’s head. Naoya seemed to be in pain, and his nose was bleeding again. He shook his head lightly.
Wait, was that blood coming out of his ear?
“Head hurts,” Naoya said, barely audible. “Can’t think.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Satoru sat up, preparing to leave to get someone from his clan to treat his friend.
“No!” Naoya reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Don’t leave!”
“I’ll get stronger, I promise! I’ll get stronger so I don’t get sick anymore!” he sobbed, his entire body trembling horribly. “I’ll get stronger so I can play with you! So please, Satoru-kun…”
Satoru’s chest hurt, and his eyes started to water too.
“Please don’t leave me,” Naoya begged tearfully, “I’m sorry I’m so weak right now, but I’ll get stronger, I promise! So please don’t hate me...”
“Stupid Naoya,” Satoru’s breath hitched before he pulled the younger boy into his arms. “I don’t hate you! You don’t need to say sorry! You did nothing wrong!”
He had completely broken down in tears now, holding Naoya in a tight embrace as he cried.
“I wasn’t gonna leave you, idiot,” he tightened his hold, to which Naoya slowly reciprocated, wounding his arms around Satoru’s back.
“... Really?” he asked, meekly.
Satoru nodded, giving Naoya a reassuring squeeze. “I was just going to get a healer to help you.”
“Oh.”
“And I don’t hate you. I like you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here.”
Naoya got quiet again, his hold on to Satoru becoming tighter.
“Thanks. I like you too, Satoru-kun.”
The room suddenly became a little bit too warm for Satoru, but he didn’t mind. He held Naoya as tightly as he could.
They stayed in each other’s arms for a while, neither of them seem to want to let go.
“Satoru-kun?” Naoya was the first to pull back, retreating from Satoru’s hold. There was something in the way Naoya looked at him that made him feel a bit apprehensive.
“Hm? What is it?”
“I’ll get stronger. I promise.” Naoya raised his right hand and offered his pinky finger.
Satoru accepted the offer, linking his own pinky with the other’s.
“If you’re stronger, then I’ll be the strongest.”
“Pinky promise. if I lie, I will cut my pinky and swallow one thousand needles.”
And as promised, stronger did Naoya become, and strongest did Satoru become.
He turns away from the training hall and makes his way through the rest of the hallways like second nature. He remembers his and Naoya's younger selves running through this estate's hallways and courtyard, playing tag or hide and seek. Whenever Naoya is not up for physical activities due to injuries or illness, they would play board games, marbles, chess, or shiritori .
He stops in front of a room and slides the shoji open.
He had been to this room many times before, and he can almost feel his late friend's lingering presence in there.
The room is as sparse as he remembered. Naoya had mentioned how he doesn't have many things because his brothers and father would take or even destroy his stuff, and it seems like he kept that habit up until adulthood.
He wonders if he managed to keep what Satoru's looking for.
He turns and makes his way towards the closet, opening the door and reaching a hand inside. He comes into contact with a folded futon , which he pulls out of the closet and throws out of his way. The rest of the closet is filled with stacks of clothes, a first-aid box, some zabuton , and a small drawer filled with clothes.
He finds a box that seems promising, and he opens it only to find a bunch of snacks inside. Satoru wonders if any of them are still good to eat.
Oh, the pudding has been overtaken by mold, nevermind.
“Satoru-kun, it’s been a while.”
Satoru grinned, having seen his friend coming from a mile away with his Six Eyes. He turned to greet him and he paused, his actual eye having caught a peculiar sight.
“Woah, Naoya! What happened to your hair?” Satoru pointed at the top of Naoya’s head, where a patch of ivory hair was present.
Naoya shifted a bit, looking somewhat sheepish. “It’s a side effect of my Cursed Technique. I dunno how, but my hair color just… changed.”
So Projection Sorcery can do that? Interesting. He wondered if Naoya’s hair would become entirely colorless like his dad's.
“Do you think it looks weird?” The younger boy asked, eyes glinting with anticipation.
Satoru hums, walking around Naoya with a finger on his chin. “Weird, but not bad. Kinda reminds me of purin , but with lots of caramel! I like it!” he nodded approvingly, hands on his hips.
“ Purin ?” Naoya tilted his head, blinking curiously. “What’s that?”
Satoru’s eyes widened, he couldn’t believe what he heard. “You don’t know what purin is?”
He gasped dramatically when Naoya shook his head. “Yummy caramel pudding!”
“I’ve never eaten caramel pudding.”
Satoru gasped again. He grabbed Naoya’s shoulders, glaring at him. The younger boy blinks in confusion.
“You have to try it. I’ll give you some next time.”
Satoru brought a dozen packs of pudding on their next meeting along with some other snacks he thought Naoya would like.
Having Naoya eat lots of sweets at a time, it turned out, was not a good idea.
He blamed the entire thing to the Zen'ins having shit taste and horrible culinary arrangement. Naoya had to get used to actual, normal people food!
And so, Satoru became Naoya's snacks dealer and smuggled a bunch of snacks for him.
He tosses the box of expired goods and reaches deeper into the closet, rummaging around until he finds a noticeable dent on the tatami . He uncovered the secret compartment and pulled out a familiar wooden box from it. He opens the lid, revealing a tiny drawstring bag made of shimmery golden fabric, the appearance of which gives the impression similar to a good luck charm.
Satoru takes a single marble out of the bag and holds it up under the sun. He sees bits of glitter inside catching the light, sparkling beautifully. He puts it back inside the bag and into his pocket.
He steps out of the room and warps to the sky, looking down at the estate beneath him and points his finger towards the center of it.
Beads of light gather on his fingertip, condensing into one single point. It looks like a single glass bead, shining blue.
"Look at this one!" Naoya held up a clear, cyan marble under the sunlight, and Satoru could see bits of glitter in it, sparkling beautifully.
“Pretty,” young Satoru muttered, and Naoya smiled brightly.
“Right? It reminds me of your eyes,” Naoya grinned.
“... but I think your eyes are prettier.”
Satoru lets out a breath as he releases Blue.
Within a minute, the entire Zen'in estate disappears.
There was no grave.
There was no funeral.
There was no body.
The only picture of Naoya he has is a set of photos taken more than a decade ago. It was a picture from a purikura - of him, Suguru, Naoya, Yuu, and Nanami during one of their days off in Harajuku. He managed to get it upscaled five times the actual size so he can put it in a frame.
He looks at everyone's smiles, save for Nanami who's wearing an unimpressed look.
Everyone in the photo is now dead, except him.
He wonders if they're watching him from the afterlife.
He sets Naoya's marble in front of the picture frame, right beside his own yellow marble. There's also some snacks and sweets thrown haphazardly on top of the makeshift altar.
Satoru doesn't consider himself a religious person, but he brought some incense sticks - or should he say stole them - from the college's storage. No one will care about a few incense sticks, and the college is pretty much deserted now, anyway.
He lights the sticks with a lighter, letting smoke slowly fill the room. He puts his hands together as though he has a God to pray to.
What should he pray for, though? What could he possibly do for the dead? What could he say? Are his dead friends even going to be able to hear? Is there even a God?
Whatever. The only thing that comes to his mind is:
I'll be right behind you.