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Shoko is the only one he tells, the only one who knows, the only one he can trust now.
He can tell she's worried despite being impressed by the speed in which he's employing his Reverse Cursed Technique to help his body recover from the minor effects of hanahaki, restricting its growth from inside his lungs and abating the pain that comes with it as soon as it crops up. She leaves a hand right over his chest looking like she wishes she could pluck the roots right out from inside him and he feels touched that she'd care this much, thankful for her steadfast presence.
She tells him it's manageable for now only because it's early enough for him to mitigate some of the symptoms but he won't be able to keep it working for the long run, not if it progresses further.
"Wanna bet?" Satoru smirks even though he's overcome by hopelessness and despair and heartbreak at the thought of Suguru doing the things he did, at being left behind in this way.
She sighs at him and of course doesn't take him up on it. "It would be better to go through a surgery now to get rid of it."
"I don't want to," he says through his manic grin and he's glad when she doesn't point out the sheen in his eyes, at his obvious heartbreak, quietly breaking down in front of the last person he's allowed to bear witness to his vulnerabilities.
She sighs again, looking troubled as she tells him gently, "You know they're going to ask you to execute him, right?"
It doesn't take him much to guess who "they" are and he honestly doesn't care a whit about it. He'll do it but he knows he won't survive it and he knows that when Suguru dies, so will he, and he won't do Shoko the disservice of thinking she doesn't know it, too.
He feels sorry for her that she doesn't just have to lose one friend but both of them in one fell swoop but he can't find it within him to apologize. This is just what it means to be alive; to suffer.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," he shrugs nonchalantly even though he hopes it'll never come to pass, hopes Suguru won't force his hand. He'd be happy avoiding him for the rest of his life and die somewhere quietly in a bed of flowers with Shoko next to him so he's not alone. Whatever plans he had for telling Suguru of his feelings are now made completely useless; there will be no confession and he intends to take it to his grave.
For now he mourns at the lost opportunity and the lost potential but he's the strongest so they don't let him mourn for long.
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Satoru manages to survive the passing years through sheer force of will and, of course, never letting Reverse Cursed Technique go down, same as his Infinity. He never hears a word from Suguru, nor lays eyes on him in the interim but he knows what he's been up to, knows where his base of operations is and knows the kinds of dealing he's been involved with.
He knows the higher-ups are rapidly losing patience with him but he couldn't care less, continues to choose not to intervene, less about avoiding his duties and more for self-preservation. He has other priorities to take care of and he's well aware he's on a time limit.
The students are doing well, geniuses in their own right with ample strength and cunning to boot but they're nowhere close to his level when he was their age and he's trying not to be frustrated by that. He can feel that he's running out of time; Reverse Cursed Technique can only carry him so far and it's carried him a very long distance by now.
He goes back to the place where Inumaki and Okkotsu went for their mission earlier and feels the residuals of Suguru without needing to look for it, high up along the support beams. It's enough to make his throat tickle and he frowns deeply as he tries to control the urge to cough. Not just that though, it's a little sloppy; either Suguru's not expecting anybody to notice him from so high up or he's trying to get Satoru's attention with that little display.
10 years and suddenly he wants to talk. It makes him laugh.
His laugh devolves into a coughing fit, petals and blood coming up his throat to cover his hand liberally. He spits it out, well aware he's being disgusting but there's still smears of blood from the earlier skirmish and the petals are small enough to get fully drenched in them.
Satoru wipes the back of his mouth and puts a little more effort into maintaining his Reverse Cursed Technique, he's slipping and if that's not the sign of his end-days then he doesn't know what is.
He's about to turn to leave when he feels a small brush along his senses and tries not to make it obvious that he's finally taken notice of Suguru sitting up along the beams where he wasn't before. Satoru thinks he must've appeared during his coughing fit; it's the only time Suguru could've slipped past him without his immediate notice.
His heart lurches and wonders if he can pretend he didn't notice them but the choice gets taken out of his hand when Suguru drops down and lands perfectly on his feet a small careful distance away from him.
He's aware he looks like a mess with blood on his mouth and blood on the back of his hand but he's never really been one to bother keeping up appearances in front of Suguru before and he doesn't particularly see himself starting now. He's too worn thin to put up with any more pretenses.
Suguru looks completely the same and completely different, the Suguru of his memory melding over the man of today. There's a dark aura about him now, a ruthless kind of confidence that he's earned through the blood, sweat and tears of the non-shamans he profits off of at his damn temple. He heart aches for the teen he used to know and love, and he wishes he'd left this place sooner.
"What were you trying to do with my kids," Satoru asks instead, trying not to be affected by the man in front of him, trying to control the shake inside his chest and the horrible flutter of his heart.
Suguru's gaze drops to the blood on the floor, at the pulp of chewed up petals mixed into it before looking at Satoru and bypassing with his own question, "How long has it been since that started?"
It's a loaded question, one he's not inclined to answer. Any courtesy he could've afforded Suguru was gone the second he raised his hands against his students.
"Wouldn't you like to know," he says with a smirk, knowing full well his teeth are covered in blood.
He decides he can't afford to stay, taking the risk to turn his back to Suguru to buy himself some time to compose himself. He gathers his cursed energy around him and thinks about going to Shoko when Suguru throws another question his way.
"Who is it?"
"You're an idiot," he says unkindly over his shoulder, unintentionally taking the bait, "Just know that when you die, I'll be dying with you," he tells him and immediately sends himself into another coughing fit, doubling over and gagging hard against the lumps in his throat until he can spit out another wad of mushy blood onto the floor.
He breathes hard and feels the hand along his back, feels weak from the touch and hates how terrible and how lovely it feels. He forcefully shoves the hand away from him, takes a few steps backwards until there's enough space between them again, breathing hard in the meantime.
His head aches, his body aches, his heart aches and he loves and hates Suguru with every fiber of his being.
"How long, Satoru."
"You don't get to ask me that question," he hisses, aware he's trembling like a newborn lamb, feeling shaky and weak in the presence of the man who practically holds Satoru's heart in the palm of his bloodstained hand.
"How long."
"If you have to ask then you're dumb as shit," he retorts, wiping hard at his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, feeling the fabric scratch at his face from the force of it, anything to distract himself from the pain that practically engulfs him.
"Satoru."
"I know it didn't mean anything to you. I know ."
"No, you don't," Suguru insists and Satoru feels his anger boil over.
"I sure fucking do when I'm the one who's been carrying this for a decade. You. Don't. Know ."
He needs to get away, needs to get as far away as possible but if he tries to teleport now he knows he's going to end up hurting himself in the process. His cursed energy is a wild mess and he almost laughs when he called Suguru sloppy earlier. If Suguru was sloppy then Satoru is a damn catastrophe.
"If I could go back and change anything, the only thing I would change was to make sure I never fell in love with you in the first place," Satoru tells him and feels his heart break and rip and tear, the trembling in his chest growing so much that his whole body is shaking with it. "Then I wouldn't have to suffer every single second of every single minute of every single hour of every single day for every single year since you left me behind."
Suguru looks apologetic but not in any meaningful way, not enough to change the course of their shared history, not enough to stop Satoru from crashing headfirst into a pit of his own making. "I didn't want this for you."
He smirks, and chuckles lowly. "You've always called me selfish, but it turns out you're the most selfish between the two of us."
Suguru stares at him with pity in his eyes and Satoru decides to take the risk after all, disappearing from that place and crashing onto the floor of Shoko's infirmary, startling her so hard she nearly falls out of her seat, coughing uncontrollably and wishing he could just die already.
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When Satoru can finally stand and breathe without coughing out his body weight in blood and flower petals, he slowly helps Shoko clean up the mess he’d unintentionally left behind. She doesn’t ask what prompted this kind of forceful attack, not when she can tell based on the obvious residuals Suguru left behind on Satoru’s back, leaving his mark behind for all to see that, to this day, Suguru is one of the few who can still make it past his Infinity.
He shakes it off using a careful burst of his cursed energy but it doesn’t stop the memory of his hand still sitting there between his shoulder blades. It’s enough to almost make him want to rip his skin off but he doesn’t want to scare Shoko again for the second time today.
"It's happening soon, isn't it?" She asks him, face pinched as she takes a long hard look at his failing respiratory system that his Reverse Cursed Technique can no longer keep up with. He thinks he has maybe another six months, at best. The worst doesn’t bear thinking.
"Yeah,” he sighs. “Suguru's planning something to do with my kids and I don't think I'm going to walk out of it alive."
She looks conflicted but resigned, knowing there’s little she can do for him now and little she can say to change his mind. He knows she’s been trying for the last decade and he’s sorry her efforts have come to nothing but he doesn’t think he would’ve survived as well or as long as he had without her and hopes she knows that. He would’ve gladly given her more years if he could but he won’t make promises he can’t keep; he respects her too much to do her that injustice.
“I’m sorry, Shoko, to ask this of you,” he says as he sits on a nearby cot and takes her hand in his, knowing he’s not playing fair.
“What kind of dirty work do you want me to do for you this time,” she grumbles half-heartedly.
He chuckles as he rubs his thumb along her knuckles, feeling the bumps and trying to memorize the feel of her skin and the warmth of her hand before he passes on. "Make sure the Gojo clan doesn't get a hold of my body. Make sure you cremate me next to Suguru."
She raises his eyebrow at him. "You think he'd want that?"
"Tough luck. I couldn't have him in life, so I'll settle for having him in death. It's the least he owes me," he says meanly.
"You're not one to just settle."
He shrugs, feeling helpless. "No, but I'm only human."
---
The fight with Miguel took longer than he expected and hit him harder than he thought it would. The man couldn’t really land any solid hits on him but the rattle in his chest kept growing and growing and growing until he could barely take it. He knows he’s being toyed with, he knows he’s being stalled for time and a part of him wants Suguru to succeed but another part knows with certainty that his students won’t fail.
When he finally makes his way to Suguru he feels an answering trickle of blood spill from his lips at the sight of the man who’s bleeding out and leaning heavily against the wall for support.
“You’re late,” Suguru smirks as he slides down, perfectly content to sit himself on the rough pavement and holding onto his battered body.
“Nah,” he denies shakily, his whole body trembling hard. “I think I’m on time for once in my life.”
“Satoru,” he calls for him and he lets himself meet those eyes, knowing this will be the last time, knowing that neither of them will live to see tomorrow. “What do they mean? Your flowers.”
“I’ll tell you,” he says as he kneels down and places a hand over Suguru’s chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart and the tremor in his own failing body. “It means grief and sorrow.”
“What else?”
Satoru lets himself lean in to whisper softly, his nose grazing along the skin of his blood-smeared temple, trembling at their close proximity, his heart singing and shattering all at once.
“------ ------- --.”
Suguru stares at him wide-eyed before chuckling at him. “At least curse me a little at the end.”
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Shoko's the one who finds them after - Suguru with a hole in his chest where his heart would be and Satoru surrounded by purple hyacinths, the both of them looking peaceful and free even in death.