Chapter Text
SUGURU
I always had a plan. As a kid, I wanted to be the best there ever could be. But as I got older, my plans shifted into something thin, less complicated. Go to school, graduate, get a good degree, and live a full but restful kind of life. I realize as I say this that my plan was unrealistic to most standards in today’s society, but it was what I crave for. The simplicity of one’s life is told through stories, and for that, I would do anything. So I plan, and I plan, until I know for sure that I will achieve it, with or without such plans.
Satoru Gojo was nothing of the sort, but I would have bet my life that no indifference between us would have stopped the universe from making him my closest companion. We had met when we were in middle school, and had been practically inseparable since. My mother would say it was like he was attached to my hip. I didn’t see it until the last couple of years, but I can’t lie and say that I didn’t enjoy his company.
But today wasn’t like any other day. It was our first day of university. I’m convinced I’ll do just fine, but Satoru hasn't stopped complaining since we graduated high school in May. College was scary, or at least it had been ever since I was a kid, but now that we were here, walking there together without a care in the world as if it was already part of our routine, I couldn’t help feeling indifferent.
It’s early, and the air outside smells like rain, even though the skies are still clear. I’ve always liked mornings like this—quiet, almost too still for a city like Tokyo. It’s the kind of peace that only happens before the world wakes up, before the chaos starts. We’re walking down the same street we’ve taken since high school, but now, with college looming ahead, it feels different.
Satoru’s a few steps ahead of me, guitar slung casually across his back, jacket lazily draped over his shoulder like he’s some rockstar without a care in the world. He’s humming—he’s always humming something. It’s probably that riff he’s been working on all week, the one he keeps saying will make the band “blow up.” Hollow Purple was their band’s name, and though I’ve said that they could’ve chosen a better name, it seemed to stick. Our friends, Yu and Kento, are a part of the band. Kento’s the other guitarist and Yu’s on the drums, but Satoru’s always been the star of the show, ever since we were young.
He’s always talking like that, like the future is something just waiting for him to grab it. Like things just fall into place because he wills them to. I wish I could have that kind of confidence, that ease. But I’m not Satoru, and Satoru isn’t me.
He’s the loud, outgoing one, always the center of attention. People gravitate toward him like he’s got some kind of magnetic pull. It doesn’t matter if he’s at a gig or just hanging out, he’s always surrounded by people. Girls, mostly, but guys, too. Everyone wants a piece of him. Me? I’m the guy in the back. The one who’s content to watch him from the shadows, making sure he doesn’t burn out.
I’ve known him since we were kids, and nothing about him has ever changed. I used to think it was annoying—how he never took anything seriously, how he could laugh off anything, even the stuff that would keep me awake at night. But now, I think it’s part of what makes him… him. Satoru Gojo doesn’t worry. He doesn’t hesitate. He just is , and that’s enough for people.
I don’t mind it, really. I’m happy just being his shadow. It’s easy, comfortable, like slipping into an old hoodie. And besides, he’s always been good to me. He’s never made me feel like I’m less, even though I know I am. Less loud. Less charming. Less everything, really. I’m okay with that. I think.
“Oi, Suguru, you dead back there?” Satoru’s voice breaks into my thoughts, pulling me back into the present. He’s turned around, walking backward now, with that stupid grin on his face. “You’re being unusually quiet today.”
I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, trying to hide the heat creeping up my neck. “You just haven’t said anything interesting,” I mutter, hoping he’ll drop it.
“Ouch.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes it impossible to stay mad at him. “Harsh, man. Maybe you’re just not paying attention.”
Maybe I’m paying too much attention, I think, but I don’t say that. Instead, I give him a half-hearted shrug. “Maybe.”
He chuckles again, turning back around, and starts humming a new tune—something lighter, faster. My heart clenches for a second, and I shake my head, trying to focus on anything else. On the cracked sidewalk beneath my feet. On the way the sun is just starting to peek through the tall buildings. On anything but the way his hair catches the light as he moves.
I shouldn’t be feeling this way. He’s my best friend, and has been since forever. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? The way I feel about him has been there for so long, it’s practically woven into the fabric of who I am. And no matter how much I try to shake it, it’s there, lingering under the surface.
We pass a group of students heading in the same direction. Satoru flashes them a grin, and I see the way their faces light up, as if just being acknowledged by him makes their day. They don’t even notice me. Not that I mind.
Satoru and I are starting college today—our first year, our first step into the real world. I’m supposed to be excited, but the only thing I feel is the slow, creeping realization that this might be the year everything changes. That this might be the year he outgrows me. But for now, it’s still just us. Him, walking ahead, like always, leading the way. Me, following behind, where I belong. For now, it’s enough.
“What’s your first class again?” Satoru pulls back, standing beside me. I look over at him, then I pull out my phone out of my back pocket. I pull up my schedule and hand my phone to him. “Ugh, what the hell are you taking algebra for?” He groans, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“I have to,” I tell him in response, “I don’t want to though.”
“For your major, right?”
“Mhm,”
He rolls his eyes again. Then he looks back at the schedule, “At least we have literature and biology together. Oh! And foreign language.” He gives me my phone back. “I can’t believe we’re in college now, Suguru. Can you believe it?”
No. I, Suguru Geto, can not believe we are college students. Of course I believe it, at least regarding myself. I’m surprised he even applied at all. He’s never had any desire to pursue any extracurricular career, but he’s majoring in art, specifically art critique, though his musical talent is just as special as his painting. I don’t really listen to music, so I can never really help him with any of it, except writing lyrics.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I try to act dumb, “About what?” I expect the conversation to end there, though it doesn’t, which is what I really should’ve expected. It was Satoru, after all.
“Summer,” he responds after a moment, glancing over at me a couple of times as my silence grows. “What went down, I—”
“Can we not talk about this?” I cut him off his words, before anything else could be said. He watches my expression shift and he nods his head, defeated. I sigh, “I’m sorry. Y’know I don’t like to talk about that kind of stuff,” I tell him, then I shrug carelessly, “Besides, I’m fine. Trust me,” but I knew I didn’t sound convincing. This last summer had drained me of every part of me, and I’ve barely made it out alive. If it wasn’t for Satoru, I do not believe I’d be breathing today.
My mother had been sick all her life, and for a couple years here and there, she’d be okay enough to pursue whatever she wanted. In these spattered years, she met my father, she had me, and she raised me, but in the last four years, she had grown older, sicker, frail and fragile. My father was buried in denial, that it was not her time yet, but the light in her eyes had been gone for months and she did not want to be alive any longer. She had signed DNR forms at the beginning of May, but it wasn’t until June where she’d pass. The funeral was small, silent, and none was said. We all felt the same about her, the absolute best of her, but no matter what we could’ve said, it wouldn’t have given her the justice of just how pure and wonderful she was.
My father had not left the living room, seemingly glued to the recliner facing the TV, which I can’t blame him for. My sister, Mitsuki, lives with our aunt now, something I can’t blame her for either. I only stay with my father to take care of him. It’s the least I could do. It’s what my mother would’ve wanted, even if she’d still urge me to follow my dreams and become who I want to be. There had not been a day that I did not miss her. I can still hear her voice sometimes.
Satoru couldn’t understand this. His parents are alive and well, though divorced and toxic with one another. He told me that he envied me once. His parents used to fight so harshly that it made him afraid of love entirely, but he saw my parents and spent so much time with them that he was envious that I had such a loving and beautiful childhood with parents that truly loved each other. I suppose he doesn’t envy me anymore.
It was after she passed that is what he’s referring to. What had “gone down” was my father having a mental breakdown in July, which led to my sister moving out and my sudden responsibility to take care of him and the house, including bills, etc. Satoru was there the day it happened, or he was there for a second too late. I can’t really remember it. It all happened so quickly, from one minute my father and sister were talking in the kitchen while I cooked, and the next, my father had broken the entire China set my mother owned, all while yelling at my sister and I. She’s begging him to stop, I’m standing before her in silence. Satoru had just walked in at the end of it, I believe so, and I had gotten my father to stop and calm down. By the next day, Mitsuki had moved out and it was all up to me now. Still, I can’t blame her.
“You can talk to me,” Satoru’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, “about it,” he clears his throat, trying to sound sincere despite the tension between us then.
I nod my head. “I know.” I look over and give him a smile, “I know,” I repeat reassuringly. It was then where we’d finally make it to campus, where he’d part ways at the parking lot and I’d make my way all the way to the Science building. Our friend, Yu, was there waiting for me outside the classroom, wanting to sit by me, of course, so we went in together. We took our seats at the back of the classroom in the far corner, not for any particular reason other than the fact he likes to listen to music despite there being rules prohibiting that.
Yu is someone who’s very outgoing and overly friendly, he’s unintentionally blunt, a little situational blind, unmedicated-ADHD-ridden, but overall, a good friend. He cares about politeness, but not about dishonesty. He is the type to laugh at a funeral, but not because of it, just the uncomfortable silence that makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle in a way.
“Can you believe we’re in college now?” It was almost as if Satoru hadn’t asked me that same question just mere moments ago. But I didn’t mind it, or make it obvious at least.
“I’m surprised you applied here and not somewhere else,” I say, “though I don’t mean that in an undermining way. I just assumed you’d want to go somewhere else, as well as Satoru, so it was surprising to see the both of you come here with Kento and I.”
Yu shrugs, “It felt more convenient, and plus you guys are here.” Then he suddenly turned all the way around in the seat, facing me head-on. It startled me, if I’m being honest. But he just stared at me, his eyes squinting as he slowly inched closer and closer to me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I lean away, but he follows. I raise my eyebrow and scoff, “What are you on about, Haibara?”
He finally pulls back, “You just seem off, more than usual,” more than usual?!
“I’m fine,” I tell him with a light grin, “Really,”
Yu stares at me, as if he’s waiting for me to break, before he huffs, “You better be,” he then smiles, “You coming to practice today?”
I turn to face forward, getting a pencil out of my backpack, “Usual time?” And Yu nods his head. “Maybe,” I set my backpack down on the floor, sitting against the legs of my chair, “I might just want to go home. It is our first day here and you guys are still practicing like you’re being graded on it or something,” like they didn’t practice all summer.
“Gojo wants us to—” Then he cuts himself off, laughing nervously, “Nevermind,” and he turns around, facing the same direction as me, shutting the entire conversation down. I looked over, confused, but I decided that it wasn’t worth the interrogation. Not right now, at least.
SATORU
Band practice has always been my favorite time of day. Well, not always. I wasn’t in a band when I was a kid, but you get what I mean? Anyways. We had practiced all summer and with just a few more practices, we’d be able to qualify to the annual Battle of the Bands with flying colors. Not that we weren’t good enough, because we are. We’re better than good, but we need to be perfect. I’ve been trying to convince Suguru to join the band, but he just says a trio is easier to contain than a quartet. He ended up choosing to be our manager instead, so he’d always be there, but he’s good with guitars, he’s good with drums, even the keyboard. But he keeps saying no every time I ask him. I don’t understand him a lot of the time, but he understands me a little too well. Suguru’s very observant, but I tend to know what he’s thinking the majority of the time. Maybe I can read people well, maybe I even have a sixth or third eye—I don’t remember the saying—or maybe I understand him more than I thought I did.
I’ve known Suguru since we were 6, where we met on the playground during recess. He was sitting by a tree reading a book, like some cliche emo kid (was that harsh?), but I went over to him when my teacher told me I was in timeout. All I did was throw a ball at another kid’s face, but it was by accident. I think. But I asked him why he was in timeout, he said he wasn’t, then he proceeded to ask me and then we suddenly became friends. Ever since, we’ve been inseparable. Suguru’s my best friend, my closest companion. It’s really hard to say my life wouldn’t be different without him, because it would be. I wouldn’t be who I am if it wasn’t for him.
Suguru’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember—probably closer than family, actually. Not that the bar’s set very high. My parents split when I was a kid, and my dad basically vanished into a new life with a new wife before the ink on the divorce papers was dry. I’m an only child, so it’s not like I’ve got siblings to fill that gap. Instead, there’s Suguru.
He’s always been the quiet one, the calm to my chaos. But after this summer, he’s quieter than ever. His mom passed away, and his dad just . . . broke. Suguru didn’t tell anyone else, but I know he’s carrying it all by himself—taking care of his dad, holding his family together. Sometimes I worry it’s too much, but Suguru’s stubborn. He’s not the type to ask for help.
We’re in this band, Hollow Purple, and while I’m the guitarist and lead singer, Suguru’s the manager. He keeps us grounded, handling everything behind the scenes so the rest of us can just focus on the music. Music’s always been my thing, though I’m into pretty much any kind of art—painting, sketching, whatever lets me get lost in creating. Suguru’s never been one to pick up a guitar or a paintbrush, he’s a book-nerd, loves-shakespeare-but-hates-romeo-and-juliet kind of guy, but he’s always there, steady, watching. Sometimes, it’s like he’s my guardian angel, like he is meant to protect me. We’re different, but somehow, we fit.
After school, I had met Yu and Kento at Kento’s house like always. I strummed a lazy chord as Yu tapped his drumsticks together, looking around Kento’s garage. This is where we’d been playing for the last four years, we have our own designated spots, even a fridge full of food and our favorite drinks. I think Yu was more grateful for the fridge than the garage itself, but he likes to eat so that wasn’t surprising. Yu’s gaze lingered on the empty spot where Suguru would usually be, his chair in the corner where he’d watch us with contempt, bass in hand, half-smiling at all of us as he rolled his eyes at something Yu had said.
“Where is he?” Yu asked, finally voicing the question we'd all been thinking. “Geto hasn’t missed practice in . . . ever.” He says that, but Suguru’s not even a part of the band. Well, he’s the manager, but not an actual member, and it just so happens he’s the best manager ever because he just never misses a practice. Until today.
Kento stopped adjusting his amp, crossing his arms. “Yeah, it’s weird. Did he say anything to you, Gojo?”
I paused, fingers still on the strings, feeling the weight of the question settle on me. Suguru had texted me earlier, a quick apology and a “can’t make it,” but I knew it wasn’t just about today. It had been like this for weeks—since summer, really. The calm, but easygoing Suguru we all knew was . . . different now. Distant. I couldn’t blame him. After everything that had happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d wanted to just disappear.
But Yu and Kento didn’t know all of that. They didn’t know about Suguru’s mom, or his dad’s breakdown, or the pressure he’d suddenly taken on, almost overnight. They just knew that Suguru wasn’t here.
“He’s just got a lot going on at home,” I said, trying to keep it simple. “Family stuff.”
Yu frowned, resting his sticks on his lap. “I mean, I get it, I talked to him earlier in class, but he’s distant. And he’s been like this for almost two months now. He doesn’t even answer half my texts anymore. Barely talks to me in person. It’s like he’s just—” He pauses, “—gone.”
“It’s not that simple, Yu,” I said almost immediately, a bit more sharply than I intended. When Yu blinked at me, surprised, I softened my tone. “Look, Suguru’s dealing with a lot right now. I’ve talked to him; he’s just . . . he’s got his hands full. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”
Kento studied me for a second, quiet but clearly not entirely convinced. “Is he okay, though? I mean we all have stuff going on, but this seems different.”
I looked away, tuning a string just to have something to do with my hands. “Yeah. He’s okay,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if that was true. But it was what they needed to hear. “He just needs some time.”
Yu sighed, giving his drumsticks a spin between his fingers. “I just miss the guy, you know? Even this morning, he wasn’t himself. We were talking, sure, but it’s like I wasn’t talking to someone completely different. And it’s not the same without him here. Plus, we have Battle of the Bands coming up, and we can’t do it without our number one fan and manager. I mean, we’re Hollow Purple, not ‘Hollow Almost-But-Not-Quite Purple.’”
I laughed, despite myself, and the sound loosened something in my chest. Leave it to Yu to lighten the mood, even if he didn’t know what was really going on.
“He’ll be back in time,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “Trust me. Suguru wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
Kento nodded slowly, but I could see the concern still lingering in his eyes. “If you say so, Gojo.”
For a moment, silence filled the garage, the weight of Suguru’s absence hanging in the air. I knew they both missed him, missed that sense of unity we always had when all four of us were together. And so did I, maybe more than I wanted to admit.
“So, what did you do today, Gojo?” Yu asked suddenly, probably sensing the need to change the subject. “Besides flirting with random girls on campus.”
I smirked, grateful for the distraction. “Oh, you know, nothing too exciting. Met someone today, actually—her name’s Ieiri Shoko.”
Yu’s eyes lit up. “Gojo’s got a crush already! Are you gonna ask her out?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I think so.”
Kento raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “Since when do you think about it? You usually just go for it.”
There was something almost comforting in their teasing, something that made me feel a little more normal. “Maybe I’m just trying a different approach,” I said with a smirk, hoping they’d drop it. Because the truth was, Shoko was interesting, sure, but there was something else I couldn’t shake, something—or someone—that kept tugging at the back of my mind.
“You’re getting soft,” Yu said, shaking his head. “First Geto vanishes, and now you’re hesitating. Who are we anymore?”
“Still the same Hollow Purple,” I said, forcing a grin. “And we’re gonna kill it at Battle of the Bands, with or without Suguru there to keep you in line, Haibara.”
He rolled his eyes but laughed, and Kento even cracked a smile. And for a moment, in the laughter, in the music, things felt almost right—like they used to be. But deep down, I knew there was a part of this band, of me, that was missing, out there somewhere with Suguru, waiting to come back.