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Death was… surprisingly painless.
One second, Gojo was clashing with Sukuna in a life-or-death struggle; the next, he lay on the ground, eyes wide with wonder as he watched a bird fly across the sky. It almost felt symbolic, watching it fly free, far from the death and devastation below. As his blood pooled around him, Gojo wondered if death would be enough to set him free. Free from the burdens of Jujutsu society, of the responsibility that came with being the successor of both the six eyes and limitless.
Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer in the world, was tired.
He was tired of losing everything he held dear. First, it was Suguru, his best friend and greatest failure. After Riko's death, Suguru changed; her death shook the very foundation that made Suguru who he was. Gojo didn't need his six eyes to see that. Suguru had been hanging on by a frayed thread, its inevitable snap something Gojo could have—should have—stopped…or, maybe he couldn't. It was too late now. His best friend had slipped through his fingers like water, the waves of his regret surging back to pull him under.
The death of his best friend by his own hands was, in a way, atonement. To whom, Gojo didn't quite know. Had he been a better friend, Suguru may have still been alive, fighting right alongside Gojo like they used to before it all fell apart. It only made sense that Gojo be the one to right the wrongs of their past, no matter the cost. The higher-ups considered the day Suguru fell to be a blessing; one more threat to their way of life eliminated with as much care as snuffing out a candle.
Blood still stained Gojo's hands.
Next came Tsumiki. A bright and happy child who charmed her way into Gojo's broken heart with loving smiles and warm hugs. A child whose life was so unfairly ripped away by a damned curse that even the strongest sorcerer couldn't break. It was yet another failure nailed deep within his chest. To learn of her death while he'd been sealed away nearly shattered his resolve.
It was a reminder that everything he loved could be taken away.
What truly broke him was Megumi. Megumi, the little boy—his little boy—who'd been dealt a shitty hand in life the moment he was born. In some sick, twisted way, he and Gojo were the same. His mother, father, Tsumiki, and even Yuji for a short time. Megumi had lost so much in such a short time. Gojo had sworn to Megumi and himself that he'd always be there, that he wouldn't end up like his father, who failed him.
In the end, Gojo turned out just like him.
While he was trapped—sealed away by the puppet of his old friend—Megumi had fallen prey to Sukuna, the King of Curses latching on and digging in like a parasite. Sukuna took everything good about Megumi and twisted them into something putrid. That face, which once held so much conviction and thickly veiled admiration, now sneered with animalistic fury and insatiable blood lust. Despite his heart shattering into pieces, Gojo had no choice but to fight to destroy one of the few precious things in his life. Killing Suguru had been the hardest moment of his life, but Gojo was certain that killing Megumi would have been the metaphorical death of him.
Wasn't it ironic how close to the truth he'd been?
Eyelids growing heavy, his blood trickling down into the cracks of the broken concrete beneath him, Gojo dared to pray. He prayed for someone, anyone, to save Megumi. Whether that was still possible, Gojo didn't know. He could only hope that someone would find what his six eyes couldn't. That there was still a way to save his kid's life. More selfishly, Gojo prayed to become yet another name etched on Megumi's list, someone worthy of being grieved.
To grieve meant to live.
As the world faded away, the last shred of light sinking into the clutches of death, Gojo allowed himself one final wish. The world was a cruel, sadistic place that showed no mercy for the weak or the strong. It did not discriminate, nor did it favor, yet Gojo let himself hope that perhaps it would grant him one act of mercy.
- - -
Awakening was…surprisingly comfortable.
Suffocating darkness gradually gave way to a soft, white light that danced across Gojo's vision, tempting him back to consciousness. Peeling his eyes open, Gojo stared up once more in wonder, the open sky replaced by a white ceiling with cracks splintering like webs across the plaster. He blinked, once, twice, before forcing his gaze away to take in his surroundings.
Soft moonlight filtered in through ratty curtains slowly eaten away by moths and time. It bathed the walls in muted hues of white and blue, highlighting the faded wallpaper that was slowly stripping away. With his heightened sense of sight, Gojo's eyes perceived every particle of dust as they drifted aimlessly around the room—a room he hadn't seen for quite some time.
Mementos from a time long gone lay scattered around the room, reminding him of all he'd lost.
Along with the flood of memories came a gentler flow of cursed energy from somewhere close by. Gojo sat straight up, unshed tears glistening in his eyes as his heart stuttered. The cursed energy, thick like oil, flowed with the ease of water, casting shadows in its wake. It was darkness, pure and untouched by the light, yet held not a trace of malice. The darkness it created was soothing and familiar, devoid of the cold Gojo had felt mere moments ago.
Gojo knew that cursed energy better than he knew his own.
Breathlessly, Gojo stood on shaky legs, barely registering the cold wood beneath his bare feet as he made his way through the old apartment he once called his second home. Pictures hung from the walls, of a beautiful little girl with eyes full of youthful wonder, and a stubborn little boy whose scowl rivaled that of Yaga's. They went unnoticed by wide blue eyes as Gojo followed the cursed energy to a door with a familiar sign taped to the chipped wood.
Scrawled messily in red crayon, it read: Megumi's Room, Stay Out!
Holding his breath, Gojo grabbed the handle—the cold metal biting his skin—and twisted. The door swung smoothly on old hinges as Gojo stepped hesitantly into the room. Newer, blackout curtains hung over the window, keeping the outside world at bay. Atop the nightstand, a shadow lamp rotated slowly—Gojo's keen hearing picking up the soft whirling—casting lighted silhouettes of sharks and dolphins swimming along the walls.
Gojo let out a stuttered breath as his eyes fell on the bed. Tucked safely underneath his dinosaur print comforter was Megumi; his little Megumi, barely six or seven years old. He was sound asleep, that white wolf plushie he slept with through middle school held snug against his chest. Megumi looked peaceful in his sleep, blissfully unaware of the dangers that awaited him.
Stumbling forward, Gojo carefully sat on the edge of the bed. With a shaky hand, Gojo reached out, flinching back when his fingers brushed the tips of Megumi's spiky hair. The part of him that didn't want to believe any of this was real—that the universe wasn't taunting him with one last memory of the past—cracked and crumbled as Megumi shifted, his leg bumping into Gojo's. Tears silently fell as Gojo ran his fingers through Megumi's hair, snagging and tugging free a few knots in the process.
The action caused Megumi to stir, a soft sigh escaping his lips before his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked a few times, his eyes hazy with sleep, before looking around. Those green eyes found Gojo easily. They were the bright eyes of a child who's yet to experience all the horrors of the Jujutsu world, of Sukuna's vile grasp. Gojo could only imagine how he must have looked, his eyes undoubtedly turning red and puffy from crying. He smiled softly—lovingly—when Megumi made a confused noise, far too tired to talk as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep, Megumi." Gojo whispered as he continued stroking Megumi's hair, his eyes crinkling as Megumi slowly gave in. "I'll keep you safe…I promise."
Gojo had made promises before, to Riko and Suguru.
Although it was too late to change their fates—Riko forever gone from this world and Suguru having already chosen the path in which he walked—Gojo was given a second chance to change Megumi's. Watching as Megumi fell back asleep, his chest rising with every breath, Gojo's decision became resolute. To keep Megumi safe, Gojo wouldn't hesitate to set the Jujutsu world ablaze. Dramatic, absolutely; realistic, not a chance, but Gojo took those feelings and filled his heart with them.
He didn't understand how or why the world granted him such an act of mercy, but Gojo wasn't about to squander it. Megumi, Tsumiki, Nanami, Yaga, Nobara, Yuji…Gojo would find a way to save them all.
Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer in the world, wasn't done yet.