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Gojo Satoru — Layer: zero
Satoru breathes in salt air. He can hear the lap of the ocean against the shore, and the sun is pleasantly warm on his skin. As he opens his eyes, he smiles wistfully and looks at the horizon. His body is whole, and there’s no pain anywhere. But there’s also no cursed energy. There’s no Six-Eyes or Limitless. Maybe it makes him feel a little empty? But it’s not a bad empty. He thinks he feels calm.
“It was fun,” he says to the sea.
He turns his back to the water and looks across the land. It looks endless, sand and greenery stretching on for as far as his eyes can see. There’s nothing in either direction. Just endless sand, endless green, endless water, and endless sky. He huffs a laugh and then tilts his head back and laughs up to the sky. He laughs and laughs until tears come to his eyes. Once he catches his breath, he rubs at the back of his head, ruffling his hair.
“Told you, you die alone. Just didn’t think it’d be like this.”
So Satoru starts to walk, walking along the sand. He’s wearing the clothes he died in, black compression shirt and cream wushu pants. He doesn’t have the haori or scarf with him, but maybe that’s because he wasn’t wearing them at the moment he died. His body is as it was when he died too, just without any of the wounds.
If he glances into the water, he can see fish, and it makes him wonder if he’ll feel hunger here. Maybe this is all his imagination? A hallucination? A microsecond in time between taking his last breath and his brain finally dying. And once his brain dies, this will all end and there will be nothing.
He doesn’t feel bored even though he walks for a long time. The view doesn’t change, nor does the weather. Perhaps it will never become night? Perhaps there’s nothing else here but this. But just as he begins to consider stopping and taking a swim, he sees something in the distance. There, standing on the sand at the edge of the water, is another person. They’re so far away that Satoru can’t tell who it is. It might even be an illusion of his mind.
He takes off running, feeling giddy with excitement. His feet kick up sand as he charges forward, traversing the wide distance between him and the other person. Slowly, they begin to become detailed in his eye. And the first thing Satoru notices is the beautiful length of dark hair that moves in the breeze. His eyes widen, and he picks up the pace, running even faster. This must be a dream.
Suguru is standing on the beach, dressed in his monk robes. His hands are tucked into the wide sleeves, and he’s looking out at the horizon. But as Satoru gets close enough, Suguru hears him and turns his head. Their eyes meet, blue into violet, and Suguru’s eyes widen in shock. His mouth drops open a little, and it’s the same expression he made right before Satoru killed him. When Satoru told him that he…
Satoru stumbles to a stop right next to him, breathing harder.
They stare at each other.
“You’re here,” Satoru says.
Suguru’s expression evens out, and he turns his entire body to face Satoru. “Why are you?” he asks.
Satoru grins a little. “Sukuna was crazy strong!”
Suguru’s eyebrows raise a little. “The King of Curses? Hm. Well, are you satisfied?”
Satoru blinks, grin dropping. Was he satisfied? Did he live life in a way that he was satisfied with? He thinks he did. But was he satisfied with his life?
“That’s a difficult question,” he replies, frowning as he looks at Suguru’s face.
Suguru huffs. “What? Aren’t you happy that you fought the strongest and could go all out? Sure, you lost, but you got to give it your all. You could convey everything you felt, right? Sounds like something you’d like.”
“I would’ve liked it if you were there.” The words come tumbling out of Satoru’s mouth.
Suguru’s lips pinch together, and he turns, walking away. Satoru rushes after him. There’s a house, further inland. It’s a bungalow made from wood with wide open doors and windows, letting the sunlight shine inside and the sea breeze blow through. There’s a large kitchen stocked with rice, a bathroom with a deep tub, and a bedroom with a bed large enough to hold both of them. Satoru looks at Suguru.
“Is there anyone else here?”
Suguru’s lip curls. “No.”
Satoru followers Suguru back out to the beach, and they go fishing. There’s a small wooden boat they use to go further on the water. Satoru spends most of the time watching Suguru. Suguru is quiet and meticulous. He has a routine and is clearly practiced at this now. Satoru wonders how long Suguru has been here. Has he been here alone the entire time? And Satoru still can’t help but to wonder if this is all just his imagination.
When they return to the shore with their catch, Suguru leads him around the house. At the side of the house is a garden with vegetables that can tolerate growing at the seaside. Nigana, daikon, taro, shima rakkyo, purple sweet potato, goya, cabbage, and tomatoes. Satoru watches as Suguru squats down with a basket and picks what’s ripe.
“Did you…?”
“Yes.” Suguru doesn’t turn to look back at him. “I have to tend the garden or else it doesn’t grow.” He stands. “Rice and fresh water never empty. No matter how much you take, the containers always refill. But fruit, vegetables, and fish are different.” He walks past Satoru and back into the house.
Satoru looks over the garden and squats down to poke at a tomato that is just starting to redden. Then he stands and hurries into the house. He sits down at the table and watches Suguru cook. He watches as Suguru confidently removes the fins, scales, and guts from the fish. He grills them with sake and soy sauce. He cleans the rice and puts it in the pot to cook. Then he chops up some vegetables and mixes them together with a light dressing.
He brings the finished food over to the table and sets a plate, bowl of rice, and chopsticks down for Satoru too. Suguru sits and begins to eat. Satoru can’t stop staring at him.
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
Suguru’s eyes flash up to look at him, and he keeps the tips of his chopsticks in his mouth for an extra moment. He slips them from his mouth and picks up another piece of fish.
“I don’t know,” he answers, tone vague.
“You don’t know?” Satoru frowns a little. “Have you tried to track it? Tally days or something?”
“Do you think I’m stupid!?” Suguru snaps, and Satoru gapes. It’s the first expression of emotion he’s shown since Satoru found him. After the initial shock, Suguru’s been stoic. Suguru’s jaw shifts, and he takes a deep breath, immediately becoming aloof again. “I’ve tried multiple ways of attempting to count days. It always disappears if I fall asleep.”
Satoru nods and picks up his own chopsticks. Has Suguru been here since he died? That’d be a full year. And why is no one else they know here? Has Suguru been here alone for a year? And why would Satoru be here but not anyone else they know who’s died?
He tries the food. It’s delicious.
After dinner, Satoru heads back outside to walk around closer to the house, further in the greenery. He doesn’t go too far yet because he doesn’t have a way to not get lost. But he wonders how far he could walk if he just picked a direction and went. What about walking along the beach again? He stopped because he ran into Suguru.
When he comes back inside, Suguru is freshly showered. He’s wearing soft sleep clothes, his hair is all loose and wet, and his skin is plump and slightly flushed. Satoru wants to touch him.
“Satoru, the bath water is still hot,” Suguru tells him, oblivious to how badly Satoru wants to press his fingers against the rosy flush in his cheeks.
Satoru doesn’t move until Suguru pads away from him, barefoot. He heads to the bathroom and undresses. There’s no running water, so he has to scrub with a bucket of freshwater. It’s only slightly warm from Suguru heating it over the fire. Then he removes the lid off the bath and climbs inside, sighing at the comfort of hot water. He blows bubbles in the water and thinks.
There’s no sense thinking about life anymore because it’s over for him. He is glad that he was able to die by losing to someone stronger, but it wasn’t exactly as he wanted it. He meant to tell Megumi about his dad. And he does wonder what will happen to all of the kids now. But he believes in them and believes in their strength, so he’s okay with letting go. He meant it when he said that he would’ve liked it if Suguru was there at the end. And not that he just wanted Suguru alive, but he wanted Suguru by his side.
He’s always wanted that, and that’s never stopped.
But he killed Suguru with his own hand a year ago, so he had to let that go too. But then…even at the end, he’d thought about Suguru. About how he was left behind by Suguru and wanted to catch up to him. Does that mean he hadn’t let it go?
He tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling. And now Suguru is here. He’s with Suguru at this unknown place, and there’s no one else. He knows Suguru is dead. He saw that body snatcher in Suguru’s body. And he knows he, himself, is dead. He felt himself die when his torso separated from his legs. So they’re both dead. And they’re on a beach with a single house that supplies endless rice and drinking water.
“Heh,” Satoru laughs and closes his eyes. “No such thing as a sorcerer dying without any regrets, right?"
When he gets out of the bath, he wraps a towel around himself. He glances down at his torso, hand rubbing over where he’d been separated in two. There’s no scar, nothing to prove what happened to his body. That must mean Suguru doesn’t have any scars either. He steps out of the bathroom after draining the tub and walks to the bedroom. It’s dim now, the sky shifting to night. It surprises him.
He approaches Suguru in the bedroom. Suguru is reading a book with the light of an oil lamp. He glances up and sets the book down. He stands and picks up a set of sleep clothes for Satoru.
“These must be for you,” he murmurs.
Satoru raises his eyebrows and steps close, taking them. “Must be?”
“There’s only ever been one set. For me. Your clothes will be clean and in the bedroom for you here when you wake. And these clothes to sleep in will be clean and ready every time you want to sleep.”
Satoru shifts his hands on the clothes until his fingers touch Suguru’s hands. Suguru withdraws and steps away. Satoru watches him as he turns his back when Satoru drops the towel and pulls the clothes on.
“We’ve seen each other naked before,” he can’t help but to point out.
Suguru simply shrugs and rotates the knob on the lamp so the fire goes out. He climbs into the bed, drawing the blanket up so he can settle underneath it. Satoru stands by the bed, eyes on Suguru. After several minutes, Suguru speaks.
“Get in the bed or leave the room, Satoru. Don’t stand over me like a creep.”
Satoru rounds the bed to climb in on the other side. He and Suguru never shared a bed before. They slept on their desks as students, faces turned toward each other. And they slept on the floor near each other, Suguru’s head pillowed on his bag and Satoru spread out on his back. They even slept by resting their heads on each other’s shoulders while riding the train a few times. But they never lay under a blanket together. If Satoru stretches his leg out, he could rub his bare foot against Suguru’s.
He keeps his eyes open in the dark, looking at the black river of Suguru’s hair that flows behind him. He stares at the round of Suguru’s shoulder as he lies on his side, back to Satoru. He can even see the movement of his upper body as he breathes.
He doesn’t notice when he falls asleep, but he wakes just as the sun is starting to rise, light streaming in through the openings in the house. There’s soft hair pressed to his face, and there’s solid warmth all along the front of him. He can feel breathing outside of himself, the swell and dip of a ribcage that is not his own. He opens his eyes slowly and curls his fingers.
He’s pressed against Suguru’s back, face thrust forward into Suguru’s hair. Suguru’s legs are slightly bent forward, and Satoru’s legs follow the same shape, curling himself around the other man. And his arms are wrapped around Suguru’s waist, hands holding Suguru’s wrists in front of him.
As he blinks, his lashes catch against the long strands of Suguru’s hair. Suguru smells just as he always had. Like smoke and black tea. Satoru carefully tips his head forward and to the side until he can rest his face against Suguru’s shoulder, feeling where it connects to his right arm. He closes his eyes again as a strange ache lodges itself in his throat. It’s painful and hot, but it’s not choking him. It’s just…uncomfortable.
Satoru breathes through it, and the lull of Suguru’s breathing against him drifts him back into sleep. When he wakes again, he’s alone in the bed, and the sun has fully risen. He shifts upright and shakes his head before glancing at the pillow Suguru lay on last night. When he woke earlier…was that just a dream? Surely Suguru would have woken up if Satoru was clutching at him like that, right?
He climbs out of the bed and, sure enough, just as Suguru said, his clothes are clean and ready to wear. He dresses back in the same outfit he died in and leaves the bedroom. There’s breakfast wrapped and left for him to eat at the table, so he scarfs it down before searching for Suguru. Suguru is outside tending to the garden.
“Hey! Teach me,” Satoru calls out as he heads over.
Suguru glances at him, surprise evident on his features. It’s almost as if he expected Satoru to be gone. But he nods and motions for Satoru to come over. They spend a while in the garden because Suguru shows him how he started it as well as how to tend to it now that it’s thriving.
Satoru scrunches his nose. “How did you learn how to do this?”
“Well, I did my best not to get anything from monkeys. So I did a lot of things on my own,” Suguru answers, fingers grazing a leaf.
Satoru jolts, eyes cutting over to Suguru. Suguru is smiling faintly, eyes lowered to the vegetables. Satoru licks his lips.
“Do you have to call them that?”
Suguru’s eyes lift, and he looks at Satoru, smile disappearing. They hold each other’s gaze.
“That’s what they are,” Suguru says lowly.
Satoru frowns. “Suguru, it’s over now. We don’t need—”
Suguru stands up abruptly and starts to walk away. Satoru stumbles upright and lunges after him, wrapping his dirty fingers around Suguru’s wrist.
“Wait. Suguru! What’s the point in still—”
Suguru whirls around. “Maybe you got to live a happy and satisfactory life, Satoru, but I did not!” Suguru’s voice is cutting. “From the very beginning you were the awaited one, celebrated because your birth changed the world. Me? I was a burden to my parents. A bizarre child with delusions of monsters.
And what changed from there?” He takes a step forward, closer to Satoru. “Nothing. I thought it had changed for me when I met you. When I learned what the monsters were. When I learned I had power. When we were the strongest together, I thought I knew what it meant to exist. But that was only a fantasy, a hopeless desire. Because we had never been the strongest together. As soon as you awakened, that was clear.
I’m happy for you that jujutsu satisfied you, and that you got to have fun as a teacher, raising more sorcerers to lead to slaughter for a backwards world. And that you got to give it your all against the strongest being and go out with a bang.
But I attempted to grab a little happiness for myself, to have a family and make the world better, to not bend to the will of monkeys, and I lost to one of your proteges. Only to then be smeared off the earth by you like crushing a bug under your thumb.”
He yanks his wrist out of Satoru’s hold. But Satoru doesn’t let him even attempt to walk away again.
“That’s not fair, Suguru, and you know it. We were always the strongest together. Even after you left, I was the only one who could’ve done anything to you. Why do you think you were able to run around being the worst curse user for 10 years? Because there was no one strong enough to stop you.
If you hadn’t sent so many curses to Shinjuku and Kyoto…I don’t know that Yuta would’ve been able to stop you. And you didn’t attempt to grab happiness. You plotted genocide and led a cult. What kind of happiness is that if it has to be at the expense of others?”
Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Oh? How kind of you to grant me 10 years. Rather than coming by and snuffing me out right away, you let me run around and pretend I even had a chance, hm?”
Satoru shakes his head. “That’s not what I—”
“And that’s how life works, Satoru. The gazelle eats the grass, then the lion eats the gazelle, and when the lion approaches the water to drink, the crocodile eats the lion. The hippopotamus is a direct competitor with the crocodile, so it kills the crocodile. Do you see?” Suguru’s eyes have widened, frenzied as he speaks. “Do you truly believe humans are different? That our existence and survival doesn’t hinge on the deaths of others?
Satoru falters physically, but not mentally. “No, but you don’t have to go out of your way to do it. You don’t need to kill all non-sorcerers to survive.”
Suguru snorts. “Tell that to Haibara.”
“He was killed by a curse, Suguru.”
“And where do curses come from, Satoru?”
“You can’t preemptively eliminate things just because of what could happen!” Satoru is starting to feel like he’s 17 again, standing opposite Suguru on a sidewalk in Shinjuku. “That’s like saying cars shouldn’t exist because a car accident could happen. Or knives shouldn’t be made because someone could cut somebody else. That’s not creating happiness, that’s just being a coward!”
Suguru’s face goes blank, as placid as a sheet of glass. “Maybe this is the punishment of the afterlife,” he says flatly.
A sharp pain lances through Satoru’s chest at the implication. “Are you saying us being here together is a punishment?” he questions, voice raised in disbelief.
Suguru looks at him with eyes that are so fatigued they lack all light. The violet is flattened to black.
“Why else would you be here with me?”
The words create a crushing feeling inside Satoru, grinding down into the sharp pain in his chest until it makes him breathless. His hands open and close in fists by his sides, completely useless. And once again, Suguru turns his back on him and walks away.
Satoru heads to the shoreline and sits in the sand, staring out over the water. He didn’t think it was possible to feel pain here. But then, Suguru always surprises Satoru. He cups a handful of sand and lets it tickle out from the bottom of his fist. He watches the grains fall and remembers the feeling of Suguru’s hair against his face when he first woke up that morning.
Why do they have to be on opposite sides even in death? There’s no one else here. No higher ups, no Jujutsu High, no Gojo Family, no cult, no non-sorcerers, no one. There’s nothing here but Satoru and Suguru. They don’t even have their cursed energy anymore. So why is it impossible for them to be beside each other even when everything else is gone?
Satoru stands, glaring at the brightness of the sky. He turns to the right and takes off running down the sand. He’s going to figure out what this place is. He’s going to figure out why they’re here and if there’s really nothing else around. Because he won’t accept that this is a punishment. Being with Suguru could never be.
He runs for a long time. It’s not that he doesn’t feel like he’s exerting himself; he does, but his body is still in great shape even without cursed energy. So he runs until he’s dripping sweat and his leg muscles start to tremble. Then he slows to a walk and continues forward. The sun never sets, and the weather never shifts. The water stays calm and rolls small waves toward him. The greenery inland sprawls onward, and he doesn’t see any other buildings or any other people.
It’s unclear how much time passes, but his body can tell he’s been moving for a long time. He’s starting to grow fatigued, and it’s frustrating because he hasn’t felt that way in a long time. He’d become so reliant on RCT that he’d forgotten what it felt like to exhaust himself. He begins to wonder if he’ll have to stop. He can’t make it back to Suguru before nightfall, surely. Even though the sun doesn’t look like it’s shifted at all, it has to have been hours.
Could he sleep outside? He hasn’t seen any animals that might attack him, but it’s still not ideal. But he doesn’t want to turn back without finding anything. He squints, the area in front of him looking familiar. He frowns and forces himself to keep walking. As he gets closer and closer, the feeling of familiarity only grows. And then Satoru sees him.
Suguru is there, standing on the shoreline just as he was when Satoru first found him in this place. But this time, he’s facing the direction Satoru is coming from, looking at him expectantly. Satoru stops, muscles quivering with fatigue.
“What the hell?”
Suguru quirks a brow. “Why don’t you take a bath before you eat?”
Satoru stares in horror. “You knew!?”
Suguru tilts his head up a little, violet eyes becoming sharp. “You must really think I’m an idiot. Why would I have not explored when I first came here? Do you think I wouldn’t have done the same? Walk along the beach, walk inland, and leave markings to find my way back? Go left and go right, go in every feasible direction? It always loops back here.”
Satoru blinks, feeling unmoored. Sweat drips down his temples.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” he can't help but to ask.
Suguru sighs. “As if I ever had the power to get you to do anything.” He turns and walks back toward the house.
Slowly, Satoru follows. He watches Suguru retrieve water from their freshwater container, and he watches as Suguru heats it over the fire in the kitchen. Once the bath is full, Suguru shoves him on the shoulder, pushing him toward it. Satoru peels himself out of the sweat damp clothes and bathes again.
When Satoru leaves the bathroom, he notices that the sun is setting again. Is bathing the trigger? What if they bathed as soon as they woke? Would the sun start to set? There must be rules to this world, but Satoru can't understand them. So, instead of thinking anymore, he heads to the table. He eats a meal alone again since it seems Suguru already ate without him.
After they climb in the bed that night, Satoru speaks.
“Were you aware of anything after you died?” he questions, voice soft in the quiet.
Suguru’s back is to him again, and Satoru stares at his hair again.
“What do you mean?”
“Like…what happened to your body? Any sensations or thoughts or anything?”
“No.” Suguru shifts a little. “Everything about life ended, and I’ve been completely separated from it. Do you not feel that way?”
“No, I do. It’s just…your body didn’t rest,” Satoru mumbles, fingers curling in the blanket. “I didn’t give your body to Jujutsu High. And a curse user took it. He has the ability to possess another’s body, so he possessed yours to use your Cursed Spirit Manipulation.”
Silence follows Satoru’s admission.
“He locked me in the Prison Realm,” Satoru shares cautiously.
Suguru finally speaks. “How did he manage that? You could’ve evaded it.”
“Well…he had your body.”
Silence falls again. Satoru squeezes the fabric of the blanket, hating how coarse it feels in comparison to the softness of Suguru’s hair.
“You’re pretty stupid, Satoru,” Suguru whispers.
“Huh?” Satoru blinks, aghast at that being what Suguru chooses to say.
“You should’ve just given my body to the school so Shoko could’ve discarded it.”
Satoru chews on his bottom lip. “I just wanted…” The words are barely audible.
Suguru turns a little to look back at Satoru. “What?”
Their eyes meet, and Satoru lets go of the blanket. “When he showed up in your body, I spoke to you. I wasn’t sure how his technique worked, so I wasn’t sure if you could hear me. And then your hand moved. It grabbed your...his throat, choking him.”
Suguru blinks, and his eyes shift a little.
“You didn’t feel anything?” Satoru asks slowly.
“No,” Suguru answers, expression relaxed. His lips purse for a moment. “What about your body? Do you think Shoko was able to get it?”
“Probably. But Yuta—” he cuts himself off and looks at Suguru, unsure. But Suguru doesn’t appear bothered in any way at hearing Yuta’s name. He just keeps looking at Satoru, waiting for him to continue. “Uh, he said he’d use mine if I died.” He shrugs to convey his indifference about it all.
Suguru snorts and smiles a little. Seeing Suguru’s smile makes Satoru grin and scoot a little closer to him on the bed. But Suguru turns away again, settling down with his back to Satoru again.
“Sounds like it worked out okay, then,” Suguru says.
“Yeah, guess so,” Satoru agrees. He stares at Suguru’s hair and his fingers twitch. He doesn't look away until he falls asleep.
He wakes early again in the same position as the previous early morning. He rubs his thumbs over the smooth skin of Suguru’s wrists and nuzzles his face into Suguru’s hair. He tries to keep his eyes open, to stay awake long enough for Suguru to wake up.
Would Suguru be upset if he woke up and Satoru was curled around him? Would he shove Satoru away? Or would he stay still and continue to let Satoru hold him? Satoru wants to know, but sleep entices him back down. And when he wakes later in the morning, Suguru is already up.
They go inland to forage for fruit. They collect shikuwasa, acerola, mango, and dragon fruit. Suguru has to explain the best way to remove the fruit from the plant without damaging them and what to look for in the fruit before picking. Suguru ties up his sleeves with a tasuki, and even though Satoru’s seen them hundreds of times, he can’t stop staring at Suguru’s elbows.
When they get to the mango tree, Suguru motions Satoru over to him.
“Get on my shoulders so we can get the fruit that’s higher up.”
“Huh!?” For some inexplicable reason, Satoru feels his ears grow hot.
Suguru frowns. “What? Just sit on my shoulders. There are some ripe ones that are too high up for us to reach on our feet.”
He kneels down and looks up at Satoru. Satoru feels frozen. Sure, when they were teens, they were constantly touching each other and lifting each other up. Satoru used to jump on Suguru’s back or throw himself into his arms so Suguru had to carry him bridal style. But it’s been years.
“Satoru,” Suguru prompts, starting to look annoyed.
“Okay, okay!” Satoru steps around behind Suguru and looks down at his shoulders and head. His shoulders are so much broader than they were as a teen. Satoru swallows hard and slaps himself in the cheeks. Why is he being so weird? He steps close and straddles his legs over Suguru’s shoulders, leaning forward a little so his weight is centered when Suguru stands up.
Suguru grabs Satoru’s calves and raises up, standing. Satoru’s hands gently land on Suguru’s head, unsure of where to go. His fingers twitch against Suguru’s bun. The sunlight brings out a deep red undertone in Suguru’s hair. Suguru steps over to the tree, bringing Satoru close to the fruit.
“Remember what I told you,” Suguru says, “Squeeze it gently. It should yield a little if it’s ripe. It should smell sweet and fruity, and the skin should be smooth and plump.”
Satoru’s ears remain hot, and the heat spreads across his entire face as Suguru talks. His palms are sweating so he has to keep rubbing them against his shirt so he doesn't drop his tool for cutting the fruit loose. He can feel his heart beating under his jaw, pulse throbbing in his neck.
He's not sure if he's ever felt like this before. It's strange and uncomfortable. So he frowns, forcing himself to focus on what’s in front of him. He carefully tests the fruit and cuts it loose if it seems good. He hands it down to Suguru, who drops it into their basket.
They don’t gather too many so they don’t rot before they get a chance to eat them. When Suguru thinks it’s enough, he bends his knees and drops his chest down forward so Satoru’s feet touch the ground. Then he lowers his head and backs out from between Satoru’s legs.
Unfazed, Suguru starts gathering up their supplies, hoisting a basket on his back. Satoru watches him, eyes lingering on the flexing muscles in Suguru’s bare arms that are only visible because his robe sleeves are tied up.
“You just gonna watch me carry it all?” Suguru prompts.
Satoru jumps and steps over, helping to pick it all up. They trudge back to the house, and Satoru follows Suguru into the kitchen. Suguru sets a plate of cut dragon fruit with shikuwasa squeezed over top in front of Satoru. He eats it happily and watches as Suguru makes a pitcher of juice with some of the shikuwasa.
“You know, you’d make a great housewife,” Satoru points out, dragon fruit stuffed in his cheeks.
“Heh.” Suguru stirs the juice. “A housewife?”
“Yeah. You can do everything,” Satoru explains. “Garden, fish, cook, make juice, make a hot bath. You’re running this household.”
Suguru tries the juice, testing for sweetness. He hums and smiles faintly. “You can’t be a housewife if you’re alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here.”
Suguru stills, spoon in his hand. His head shifts a little, but he doesn’t look directly at Satoru. Satoru chews and swallows, watching Suguru and growing concerned as Suguru continues to stay still and silent. But then Suguru moves and grabs a drinking glass, pouring himself some of the juice.
“You haven’t changed at all, Satoru,” Suguru tells him. And Satoru wonders why he sounds disappointed.
They fall into an easy pattern together. The days are simple and repetitive, but Satoru finds he doesn’t really mind. It’s nice, even, to have such peace. They forage, fish, and garden for food. Suguru does all of the cooking. They go swimming in the water sometimes, and they wander through the greenery, just walking and exploring since they’ll always end up back at the house. There’s a small bookcase, so Suguru reads, and Satoru heads outside and practices martial arts just to move his body and pass the time.
Every now and then, Suguru will come out, sit on the porch, and watch Satoru. He never says anything, and he never joins. He’ll just watch Satoru kick and punch with a contemplative look. Satoru asked Suguru if he wanted to join him once, and Suguru stood up and walked away along the beach. It took hours for him to return, so Satoru makes sure not to ask again.
They take turns bathing at night and climb in the bed together. Every night, Suguru lies down with his back to Satoru, and every night, Satoru stares at Suguru’s hair until he falls asleep. Every early morning, he wakes before Suguru, curled around the other man and holding him tightly. Then, he sleeps again and wakes up alone in the bed.
“I think I’m going to try to make something,” Satoru announces one day. They’re in the water, floating on their backs and looking up at the sky.
“Hm?” The gentle waves push them together and their bodies touch.
“Have you noticed there’s tools? Like, a saw and hammer? I’m going to try to make something with the bamboo,” he explains.
Suguru flicks some water in Satoru’s face. “Alright, city boy. Don’t hurt yourself.”
Satoru moves upright. “Huh!? You think I can’t do it?” He slaps the water so a huge splash hits Suguru.
Suguru flails a little and gets his legs under the water too. He looks at Satoru, unimpressed.
“I’m not sure which is bigger, your head or your mouth.” Then he shoves Satoru under the water.
Satoru pops back up and laughs, arms reaching for Suguru, but Suguru paddles away. They chase each other through the water, splashing and shoving one another. Suguru starts laughing with Satoru, and it fills Satoru with the most incredible feeling. It’s like he's buoyant on the sound of Suguru’s laughter, floating in the sweetness of his tenor.
The buoyant feeling carries him through the rest of that day. He gathers bamboo and sketches out numerous ideas of what he could make. Maybe a chair? A small table? He starts to spend time on it as the days go by, experimenting with the tools they have and the different ways he can link the bamboo together.
It’s a challenge, and there’s a giant learning curve, but Satoru has nothing but time. One day when he’s working on it, Suguru watching from the porch, Suguru asks him a question.
“What made you get that Zen’in boy?”
Satoru looks over, surprised. How does he know about Megumi? Megumi wasn’t in school yet when Suguru came to declare war.
“Megumi?” he asks back, just to verify.
“Zen’in Toji’s son,” Suguru acknowledges.
“Then you already have your answer!” Satoru grins, but Suguru doesn’t smile. “He told me about the kid right before he died. Said he’d be sold to the Zen’ins. I visited the kid and figured he had potential. He has the Ten Shadows Technique.” Satoru’s smile softens a little as he thinks about Megumi. “I bet on the idea that he might surpass me one day.”
“Ah, so not so altruistic after all.”
“Did you think it was?”
Suguru takes a sip of his tea and turns his head to the side. “No. I know how self-centered you are.”
“He’s a good kid. And I had fun with him. It was nice to see him grow and be youthful,” Satoru reminisces. “Besides, I had a dream…for things to change. For the crappy jujutsu world to be reset. And I needed strong and intelligent sorcerers. So I fostered them and protected their youth.”
“...that’s a nice dream, Satoru,” Suguru tells him kindly. “I hope it comes true.” Satoru looks at him, feeling like maybe they’re understanding each other a little more. Maybe their dreams weren’t so different. And he hopes that maybe, just maybe, Suguru can see that too.
“How do you know about him anyway? He wasn’t at Jujutsu High yet.”
Suguru scoffs, affronted. “You really think I didn’t know what you were up to? What kind of curse user under an order of execution do you think I am?”
Satoru laughs softly. “I’m flattered.” He touches the bamboo in front of him. “But that’s not who you are anymore. You’re just Suguru.”
He looks at Suguru again and finds him looking back. He’s always found Suguru’s eyes to be captivating. He has no idea why anyone would care about Satoru’s eyes when Suguru is right there. His eyes are only interesting because of the technique. Suguru’s eyes are interesting without anything special. They’re narrow and curve up at the edges just a touch. They’re lined with inky black lashes that add a little softness to the sharp angularity of his eyeshape. And his irises are the most lush violet.
Somehow the violet can be sharp and cold, a frozen darkness, or it can be gentle and warm, a glimmering amethyst. He can give a cutting look from the corner of his eye or he can smile to where his eyes crinkle with contentment. His eyes are so expressive and beautiful.
“What about your kids?” Satoru asks, not wanting the conversation to end just yet.
Suguru blinks and crosses his legs. “Nanako and Mimiko aren’t very strong. They’d be a Grade 2 at best.”
“So why were they with you?”
“Heh, have you matured at all?”
“I use ‘boku’ now!” Satoru throws out in defense of himself.
“Hmm,” Suguru drinks more tea. “You remember xxx village?”
Satoru doesn’t respond, but how could he possibly forget? That was the village Suguru went to for his last mission. That was the village where he massacred 112 people and set it on fire. That was the village where he decided to stop being the Suguru who was next to Satoru and decided to be the Suguru who would only ever stand opposite of Satoru.
“After I exorcised the curse there, the villagers led me into this building. There was a cage with two little girls inside. And the girls were beaten, bruised and bloodied. The villagers wanted me to kill them because they believed they were responsible for what the curse did. Because the girls could see cursed energy.”
Satoru’s breath stutters in his chest, and he stares at Suguru. He swallows hard, feeling dizzy at this new piece of information. No one knew what happened at the village except for Suguru. And he’d disappeared. When he did reappear, he wasn’t talking about what happened, at least not in any way that was based in facts. He’d only talked about his new ideals and the strange theory he had about wiping out all non-sorcerers.
“They…they’ve been with you ever since?”
Suguru nods and sips more tea. “I took them from the village and raised them as my own family.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to come with you!?” And Satoru feels like the words vomit out of him, uncontrolled.
Suguru looks startled, almost dropping the mug. He sets it down on the porch next to him and frowns.
“To the village? It was my mission, Satoru.”
Satoru stands up, no longer able to stay squatting.
“No! To…after!” Satoru knows he's being loud, but he can't seem to control it. “Why didn’t you ask me to join you? Why didn’t you want me as your family?”
And there’s that expression again. That look of utter shock on Suguru’s face, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and mouth slightly open. Suguru looks down at his lap and uncrosses his leg, smoothing the fabric of his outfit.
“Satoru…You wouldn’t have said yes,” Suguru says carefully, as if he’s talking to a skittish horse.
Satoru’s hands clench into fists. “You don’t know that.” His heart is pounding in his chest so hard it’s making him nauseous.
Suguru’s face shifts, becoming frighteningly serious. “Yes, I do. Head of the Gojo Clan, the one who changed the balance of the jujutsu world just by being born, the bearer of the Six-Eyes and Limitless, the one who didn’t care about morals or feel a need to have a meaning for anything? That person would never have come with me.”
“You never gave me a chance. You just turned your back and walked away from me,” Satoru argues.
Suguru lifts his cup and stands, expression evening out in that way that means he’s decided he’s done with the conversation. But Satoru isn’t done, and he’s not letting Suguru just walk away from him again. He rushes after Suguru as Suguru turns to walk away. He hugs Suguru from behind, wrapping his arms around him just like he does every night in their sleep. The mug slips from Suguru’s hand and breaks as it hits the porch.
“What about Satoru?” he breathes. “Do you think Satoru would have come with you?”
Suguru starts to shake in his hold. “Why don’t you ever curse me?”
His breathing becomes tight, and Satoru wonders if he’s crying. Slowly, Satoru rests his head on Suguru’s shoulder and wraps his arms firmly around Suguru’s waist. They stand there together, and Satoru closes his eyes, wondering if it means anything that Suguru didn't shove him away.
An endless length of time passes before Suguru lifts a hand and rubs at his face. He steps forward, and Satoru reluctantly lets him go. But Suguru looks back at him instead of walking away.
“Put your tools away so we can head in and eat,” Suguru tells him, eyes a little swollen.
Satoru almost trips over his own feet in his rush to put the tools away.
After dinner, they head back outside and look up at the stars. Satoru thinks day and night changes based on their desires. If they want it to be night, it will be, and once they want it to be day, the sun will rise. So they’ve started to star gaze sometimes after dinner and before they bathe.
“It’s not that I didn’t want you to come, Satoru,” Suguru suddenly speaks, breaking the comfortable silence. Satoru looks over at him. He’s still looking up at the sky, so Satoru can only look at his profile. “I knew that what I was doing was wrong in the eyes of jujutsu society. Why would I ever ask you to join me in doing something like that? I only ever wanted you to be happy, Satoru. And it was clear that you could be happy in that world. How could I even want you to leave it?
I couldn’t smile in that world, so I needed to leave. I needed to choose something that I thought could give me a chance of happiness. We all need things to survive. I needed to fight for what I thought was right. But you didn’t need me, Satoru.”
Satoru frowns. “Don’t you remember what I said?”
Suguru smiles slightly. “Before I died? Of course.”
Satoru swallows, wanting to touch Suguru. He wants to touch the sharp line of his jaw and the edge of his smile.
“Missing me doesn’t mean you needed me,” Suguru’s voice is kind.
Satoru closes his eyes against the image of a Suguru he can’t touch. He can feel hot tears welling up under his eyelids.
“Sadness passes,” Suguru says softly.
Slowly, Satoru turns his face up to the sky again.
He wakes even earlier than usual that night. He slides his hands down along Suguru’s wrists. He presses his hands into Suguru’s sleep lax ones, crossing his wrists so he can lace their fingers together, hands palm to palm. He shifts his face, using his cheek to nudge Suguru’s hair to the side, so he can press his nose and mouth to the skin behind Suguru’s ear.
“I don’t think it was just sadness,” he whispers, so quiet that the words are barely audible.
After that day, they begin to touch during their waking hours. It's not a lot and it's never more than a fleeting touch, but it's there. They'll gently bump against one another as they walk side by side or their feet will rest touching under the table while they eat. Satoru starts to reach out and press a hand to Suguru’s back for just a second as he walks past him around the house. And Suguru often comes close and taps Satoru’s arm to get his attention.
“Does it bother you that you don’t have your technique?” Suguru asks one day.
They’re lounging on the sand, letting the sun warm them. Satoru tilts his head to the side so he can look at Suguru’s face. Suguru has his eyes closed, face up to the sky like a sunflower. Sometimes it’s like a punch to the gut how stunning Suguru is. He was beautiful as a teen, but he’s absolutely gorgeous as a man. Looking at him makes Satoru’s stomach ache with longing for something he can’t name.
“Maybe,” Satoru admits.
“Maybe?” Suguru smiles and cracks an eye open to look at Satoru.
“There’s nothing here that I would need to use it for, but it is weird to not be able to see your cursed energy and to have eyes that just see…only this.”
Suguru turns his head toward Satoru too. “You don’t feel anxious that you don’t have Infinity?”
Satoru shrugs, and Suguru grins, eyes narrowing with a teasing glint.
“Don’t you feel nervous that I can touch you?” He shifts himself up onto his elbow, body fully facing Satoru. He lifts a hand and hovers it over Satoru’s arm, so close that Satoru swears he can feel Suguru graze the pale hairs there. Suguru’s hand moves, ghosting along his skin. Suguru’s eyes follow his hand, lips curled up.
Satoru breathes in deeply. “No, why would I?”
“Heh,” Suguru’s white teeth show, “I could do anything to you.” His palm settles flat on Satoru’s chest, heavy and warm.
“That’s okay.” Satoru feels breathless no matter how much air he sucks into his lungs.
Suguru’s eyebrows raise, and he stares down at Satoru’s face. Satoru looks back, feeling nervous, but like he needs to hold Suguru’s gaze. Suguru’s hand stays on Satoru’s chest, a soothing weight that presses him down. He wonders how it would feel if more of Suguru pressed down on top of him. What if Suguru climbed on top of him and lay on him? Crushing him down into the sand with his entire body?
Satoru shivers despite the heat of the sand under him and the sun above him. Suguru withdraws his hand.
“Hey,” Satoru says after a moment. “Cover me with sand.”
Suguru quirks a brow and sits up fully. “Hm?”
“Obviously not my head, but bury me in the sand.”
Suguru sighs. “You’re still so weird.” He starts digging his hands in the sand so he can heap it on Satoru. Satoru stays on his back and watches as Suguru piles hot sand over his limbs and torso, patting it into a smooth mound.
The sand covers him from his toes all the way up to his neck. It’s heavy enough to hold him down unless he uses his strength to pull himself out of it. It's a poor substitute for what he thinks Suguru’s body on top of his would feel like.
But as he lies there and watches Suguru pack him into the sand, he thinks. It's easy to not think much here when the days are sedate and simple and he can just exist in the same space as Suguru. And it's not like they can find any answers for why they're here or how long they'll be here.
So rather than think, he just enjoys each day. He enjoys eating meals prepared by Suguru, he enjoys wandering with Suguru, he enjoys practicing martial arts and building furniture as Suguru watches him and drinks his tea or reads, he enjoys taking a hot bath every night, and he enjoys falling asleep with Suguru beside him.
It makes him think about how he and Suguru are adults now. When they were teens, they spent so much time pulling pranks, running around the city with their peers, or showing off in the sports field. They didn't have much down time where they just relaxed around each other because they were so busy being stupid teenagers.
He wouldn't change that for the world. The happiest time of his life was the first couple of years at Jujutsu High. And he thinks it was a happy time for Suguru too. But having this time with Suguru right now? As adults? It makes him ache. Ache with a desperate yearning of what could have been in life. How they could've grown together and continued to exist in a shared space.
And he wonders if Suguru has ever felt this way. Has Suguru ever thought about how it could've been with Satoru? Has he ever thought about what it might've been like if there was a stash of Suguru’s favorite tea in their shared pantry? For him to drink a cup every morning as they both rushed around, helping each other get ready to head into the school to teach together?
Or what it might've been like if Suguru had more than fish to cook for them? For Satoru to feed Suguru chicken or pork or beef from his own chopsticks across the dinner table? Has he thought about what it might've been like if Satoru brushed his hair for him at bed time every night? For Suguru to lay down with his head in Satoru’s lap as Satoru smoothed the brushes’ bristles through his hair?
Even here, has Suguru ever considered turning around in their bed and pressing himself into Satoru’s arms?
The thought makes his stomach quiver and his breath quicken.
Suguru reaches up and touches Satoru’s ears. The rough granules of the sand that stick to Suguru’s fingers scrape against his skin. Suguru smiles down at him and wiggles Satoru’s ears a little.
“Your ears are red. Are you hot?”
“No,” Satoru replies immediately. Suguru’s smile grows.
“Liar,” Suguru whispers, voice hushed and secretive. “That’s what you always used to say when we were kids too.”
“Do you miss it?” Satoru asks a question of his own.
“What?”
“Being a kid.”
Suguru looks thoughtful, hands patting at the mound of sand that covers Satoru. He turns his face away to look out over the water, and Satoru shifts hard enough that some of the sand crumbles away from him. Suguru looks back and re-smoothes the dislodged areas. Satoru settles again now that Suguru is looking at him once more.
“No,” he finally answers. “I had fun with you and Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara. But I don’t miss that feeling of helplessness I had.”
“Couldn’t I have helped?”
Suguru huffs a breath through his nose and meets Satoru’s eyes again.
“Satoruuuu~” He gently knocks his fist against Satoru’s forehead. “I think dying made you soft. Like I said before, I needed to leave. I needed something jujutsu society couldn’t give me. And you needed to stay.
You know you wouldn’t have come with me. You’re just being a sad dead guy,” he laughs. “You would’ve fought me until the end no matter what. And I don’t blame you for that. You had your own dream.”
Satoru wiggles a hand hard enough that it emerges from the sand mound, sticking out by Suguru. He manages to touch Suguru’s calf. He wants to tell Suguru that he only gained that dream because of Suguru. He only sought out Megumi and protected Yuta and Yuji because of Suguru.
He wants to tell Suguru that he needed him.
“Do you blame me for opposing you?” Suguru questions.
“No,” Satoru answers honestly. He doesn’t even need to consider it because he never did. Maybe that’s the self-centered part of him that Suguru mentioned. That he wasn’t more disturbed about the murder of non-sorcerers, the loss of innocent lives. That he wasn’t angry that a group of curse users were banding together to attack multiple cities. That he wasn’t disgusted that they went after his students, involving them in the fight.
Because what disturbed Satoru about Suguru murdering non-sorcerers and even his own parents, and what made Satoru angry about Suguru drawing a group of curse users together to start a war, and what disgusted Satoru about Suguru going after his students was that it all meant that Suguru couldn’t be with Satoru anymore. It meant that Suguru was choosing to walk away from him again and again. Choosing other things and other people and other desires over being with Satoru.
“I was just angry you left me,” Satoru confesses.
And the words burn. It’s like getting knocked over by an ocean wave and the salt water rushing in your throat. When you surface, you cough, and the burn surges up your nose. He’s had those words trapped inside him for so long, and he’s never said them aloud. He’s never even consciously thought them. But they resided inside of him, right at the core of him, and he’d wrapped everything else in his life around them to hide them from view.
But he doesn’t have to hide them anymore.
It’s just Satoru and Suguru. On the beach. After death.
Suguru just looks sad, and he moves his hand to touch Satoru’s, pressing their palms together.
“Oh, Satoru.”
When Suguru eventually pushes the sand off of him and they get up to head back to the house, Suguru holds his hand. Satoru doesn’t even pay attention to what’s in front of him because he keeps his eyes on their clasped hands the entire walk.
Satoru decides to climb a tree. They’re foraging for fruit, and Satoru finds a tree that’s taller than the rest. The branches are stretched out in a way that looks climbable, so he jumps and starts pulling himself up. Suguru tilts his head up, watching him go higher and higher.
“Satoru, I don’t think you should climb that high.”
“Why not?” Satoru is grinning, working his arms and legs over the branches.
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“Oh, please. I’m the strongest sorcerer.” He disappears up into the leaves, climbing and climbing until he’s able to poke his head up and out of the foliage. He breathes in and swivels his head around, looking out over the tops of the trees. Everything looks like it stretches on to the ends of the world. The greenery, the water, and the sky. It’s a pretty view.
“It looks cool up here, Suguru!” Satoru shouts, unsure if Suguru can hear him from this distance.
After another look, he starts to shimmy his way back down. Coming down is slower than going up since he can’t see his footing as well, but he has great balance. However, he manages to step wrong on a weaker branch. It cracks, not snapping completely, but the shift makes Satoru’s foot slip. At first, he attempts to use his technique to stop himself from falling, but, of course, there’s nothing there. He has no power anymore.
His body falls down, so he reaches with his arms, trying to grab hold of a branch and catch himself by hanging. He only manages to slap into the tree and rotate his body sideways as he falls. He can hear Suguru yell his name, but it all happens so fast. He hits the ground hard, knocking the wind out of himself. He can’t see anything, and there’s a moment where he can’t feel or hear anything either. It’s like his body shuts down.
And then he’s aware of Suguru. Suguru is touching him, panicked hands feeling for injuries, and he’s breathing hard. Satoru opens his eyes and looks up into Suguru’s stricken face. Satoru grins, dazed.
“That was crazy!” He sits up slowly, shocked at how he doesn’t feel hurt at all. “It was like my body re—”
Suguru yanks Satoru into his arms, squeezing him in an embrace. He clutches at Satoru as if he’s attempting to fuse their bodies into one being.
“Suguru…I’m okay. See? I’m right here.” Satoru tries to calm him.
“No!” Suguru’s panting in short and quick bursts, his breath harsh. Scared. “You shouldn’t even be here! You’re not supposed to be dead! Not you. You’re the strongest. You’re supposed to live and be happy and be a teacher and help your students while you wear your weird eye bandages and stupid hairstyle. You’re supposed to be Gojo Satoru, and you’re supposed to live!”
Slowly, Satoru wraps his arms around Suguru.
“Hey, Suguru,” he murmurs, “I don’t mind that I’m dead.”
“That’s because you’re stupid!” Suguru’s hands lift, and he hits his fists against Satoru’s back. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” There’s barely enough force behind the hits to hurt.
“Why can’t I be okay with being dead? You’re okay with being dead, aren’t you?”
“That’s different! We’re different. You were supposed to be happy for longer. That world was made for you, and you could have anything you wanted. You were supposed to—” Suguru gasps as Satoru suddenly grabs him by his arms and yanks him back.
Satoru stares into Suguru’s eyes, their faces a hairsbreadth apart.
“What if what I wanted was you?” he demands, breath against Suguru’s lips.
Suguru trembles in his hold, eyes wide.
“You’re what I want, Suguru,” Satoru husks. “You’re what makes me happy. And I— I don’t think this place is a punishment. Because all I’ve ever wanted was to have you by my side.”
Suguru’s eyes flick down to Satoru’s lips, only for a second, but it’s enough. Satoru presses forward and kisses Suguru. His hands let go of Suguru’s arms so he can reach up and hold his face, cupping Suguru in his palms. Suguru’s breath hitches, and he grabs onto Satoru’s forearms, squeezing.
Their lips are crushed together, a sustained press, as they heave air in through their nostrils. They hold each other there, just feeling the sensation of their mouths touching. But then Suguru shifts, softening his lips and dropping his mouth open just enough to suction his lips to Satoru’s sweetly. Satoru lessens the tension in his own mouth and follows Suguru’s lead, sliding their lips together gently.
Satoru opens his mouth and slips his tongue forward, touching it to the bottom of Suguru’s top lip. Suguru gasps into his mouth, and the kiss ratchets up to a frantic pace. Their noses press into the other’s cheek as their lips seek the heat and taste of the other. When Suguru’s tongue touches his, Satoru shudders. They strain against each other, lips wet and firm as they kiss and kiss and kiss.
When the first rain drop hits Satoru, he dismisses it as his imagination. But it quickly picks up, and cold, fat drops of rain begin to land on them. They separate, a wet smack as their lips part. They both tilt their heads up, looking up past the green leaves of the tree. The sky is grey, clouds dark and heavy as they blot out the sun, and the rain begins to pour.
Satoru gets to his feet and pulls Suguru up with him. They abandon the fruit baskets and make a run for it, running back toward the house hand in hand. The storm seems to chase them as the wind blows hard enough to send the rain horizontal. The sky is streaked by blinding lightning, and the thunder cracks so loudly it seems to shake the ground.
Strangely, Suguru starts to laugh. “I never thought the weather would change!” He laughs into the torrent of wind and rain, black hair whipping around him.
And Satoru laughs with him, drawn in by the jubilation that is emanating from Suguru. They squeeze each other’s hands and splash through the wet grass. They burst into the house, gasping and laughing in the darkness. The only light comes from the streaks of lightning that flash. They’re dripping wet, completely soaked through, and Satoru lets go of Suguru’s hand so he can start pulling his clothes off.
Suguru steps close and grabs at Satoru’s shirt. Satoru blinks, stunned silent as Suguru begins to undress him. He pulls the shirt over Satoru’s head and throws it to the floor with a wet slap. Satoru reaches out, hands shaking as he tentatively touches Suguru’s robes. Suguru doesn’t push him away, so he starts to undress Suguru too.
They leave their clothes in a sopping puddle on the floor and run to the bedroom together, naked. Satoru can’t help but to laugh again, and they fall into the bed together. They slide under the blanket, sheets growing wet from their skin and their dripping hair. They crowd each other, pushing close in the center of the bed.
Satoru smiles and touches Suguru’s cheek. “You know…I’ve held you every night,” he admits.
“I know,” Suguru whispers.
“Huh!?”
Suguru laughs, eyes crinkling. “Do you really think I’d be able to sleep through your giant body wrapping around me?”
Satoru rubs his thumb under Suguru’s eye. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Suguru rolls his eyes. “What? Was I supposed to confess my feelings for you? After all this time?”
“Yes,” Satoru answers, his heart racing in his chest.
Suguru raises a hand between them, moving to touch Satoru’s face, but he stops. He looks at his hand, turning it. Satoru looks at it too. It looks transparent, as if Suguru’s fading from existence. Satoru starts to jerk upright, but Suguru grabs him, holding him down.
“Shh, it’s happening to you too,” Suguru tells him gently. Satoru glances at his own hand on Suguru’s face and sees that he’s right. They’re both fading. Satoru must look upset because Suguru tugs on his ear. “Don’t be like that, Satoru. We can’t stay here forever.”
Satoru pouts and presses his forehead against Suguru’s. “Why not?”
“Because we died. It’s time to move on.”
He can feel himself starting to drift, just like when sleep is at the edge of his mind, coaxing him down into the gentle drop of unconsciousness. If he goes now, will he see Suguru again? He fights it and looks into Suguru’s violet gaze. All of him is beginning to fade now, but his eyes are still looking at Satoru.
“I’m glad we got to meet one last time,” Suguru admits, voice growing soft and distant, like smoke dispersing into the air.
“Hey,” Satoru says, everything feeling heavy and slow. “Don’t say that. Wherever we go next, let’s go together. Okay?”
The last thing Satoru knows is Suguru smiling, as translucent as rice paper.
“Okay. Let’s go.”