Chapter Text
“Satoru. Long time, no see.”
It couldn't be.
A fake? A transformation technique? No, it’s really him!
Gojo stood stock still. It wasn't that he couldn't move. Every limb still worked, and though he was exhausted from the short amount of time he used Infinite Void, he wasn't out of cursed energy. He could walk away right now - hell, he could just fall over and log roll once, and that would take him outside the four meter radius of the Prison Realm. Five steps. One leap. That's all it would take. But his feet wouldn't move. It was as if they were rooted to the tiles beneath his feet, frozen not by the gelatinous red miasma encircling his body, but by the infinitely heavy weight that had just been dropped upon his heart.
Before him stood an impossible anomaly: a monstrosity, an unholy creature whose very existence defied the laws of nature. Suguru Geto stood before him, leering down at him with a smile that was both familiar and yet completely alien. Six Eyes, an arguably infallible technique, saw nothing but his former best friend. But in his soul, he knew that something - no, everything - wasn't right.
“You shouldn’t lose yourself in thought.” Geto folded his arms into his sleeves, an easy smile plastered across his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not in the midst of battle, Satoru.”
Gojo stared in silence. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. Infinite Void had left the station eerily quiet; every transfigured human lay dead and dismembered on the ground, and every survivor was still trying to process the half a year’s worth of information that had been forced into their brains. The cold late October air was stale and stagnant; every breath seemed to echo off the tiles of the walls, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
I can’t sense any cursed energy. I can’t get my body to move, either. Is this checkmate?
Exhaustion leeched into his bones. He had performed nothing short of a miracle in the last two tenths of a second, and the enormous effort left him drained to the depths of his soul. All that was left was a cold sense of calm, a numb, hollow feeling that left him frozen in place as if under a spell. A smile spread slowly across his pale face, his bioluminescent eyes wide and unblinking as they regarded his former friend. “So, who the hell are you?”
“I’m Suguru Geto. Don’t you remember me? How sad.” The disappointment that filled his voice was anything but real.
It was Suguru’s body. Suguru’s smile. His clothes, his demeanor. Gojo scoured him from head to toe, Six Eyes burning as they searched desperately for some anomaly, some whisper that his senses were deceiving him, but there were none. He drew a shaking breath. "Your body, your cursed energy… All the information provided by my Six Eyes is telling me you’re Suguru Geto. But…" Anger seethed in his chest, crashing over him like a boiling tidal wave. The gelatinous tendrils of the Prison Realm tightened their grip as he lurched forward, spittle flying from his lips. "Both my heart and my soul know otherwise! Now answer me already! Who the hell are you?!"
“Creepy.” Raising a hand to his temple, Geto pulled at the thin line of string that stitched its way across his forehead, then lifted the top of his skull away from the rest of his head. Clear fluid dripped down the sides of his face as he revealed his brain underneath. Front and center, directly above the line of what remained of his skull, sat a small pair of yellowed teeth. “How could you tell? That’s my technique you see. I can pass from one body to another by replacing its brain with myself. Of course, I can also use the techniques of the body I inhabit. I really wanted this man's cursed manipulation in this situation. Tell the truth, you didn’t have Shoko Ieiri dispose of Suguru Geto’s body that day, did you?” With both hands, he set the top of his skull back onto his head and gave it a few twists back and forth to properly line it up. “Ah. An odd time for you to show consideration. Thanks to that, I was able to obtain this body with ease. You needn’t worry. I’ll release your seal eventually. A hundred…no, maybe 1000 years from now. You’re just too strong to be let loose.” String in hand, he carefully weaved it back into place, effectively stitching his head back together once more. “And you’re in the way of my current plans.”
Gojo watched with a mixture of fascination and abject horror as the thing in front of him removed the top of his skull like a ballcap. It was both ridiculous and surreal, and it took him a moment to snap back to his senses. An incredulous laugh rattled hoarsely in his throat. “Have you forgotten something? Who do you think beat the crap out of that body before I eventually stepped in and killed it?”
“Yuta Okkotsu, huh? I just don’t see as much appeal in that boy as you do. Copying techniques without any conditions and a bottomless well of cursed energy. Both of those were just effects obtained by binding the soul of his most beloved with a pact. I’m sorry to say this, but Yuta Okkotsu could never replace you. Good night, Satoru Gojo. Let us meet again in the new world.”
Unblinking, Gojo pasted on a menacing grin as he held the monster’s gaze. Seeing it use his friend as a grotesque sort of puppet made him sick to his stomach. There had to be a way to get through to him. At the very least, he had to try. “Good night or not,” he said quietly, “it’s time for you to wake up already. How long are you going to let it keep using you, Suguru?”
The hand at his side twitched, his physical body fighting against the soul that currently controlled it. An odd feeling washed over him. A strange pull, and the strong urge to fight his very being, settled into his bones. Who the hell are you?! Gojo's words echoed through his head. Just as suddenly, the feeling was gone. In its place was the cold and unfeeling wasteland he was well accustomed to inside the body of his host.
Then in the blink of an eye, the same hand was wrapped around his own neck. He coughed and sputtered, fighting for breath as he tried to piece together what was happening. "Incredible,” he laughed, forcing air through his narrowed windpipe. “This is definitely a first." He was surprisingly calm given the death grip on his own throat.
Gojo had just about given up. His entire body ached, his cursed energy was spent, and he was only a hair’s breadth from collapse. Part of him just wanted to close his eyes and let it happen. Let the Prison Realm close around him, separating him from the world and all its endless battles. But when Geto's hand fought its way to his throat, he sensed a glimmer of his friend's essence buried beneath the veritable mountain of alien cursed energy that seethed beneath his stolen flesh. No, he couldn’t let this happen. Not to Geto. Not to everyone who was counting on him. He had to fight. Squaring his stance, Gojo managed to lift his head, electric blue eyes boring into Geto's soul.
"I know you're in there, Suguru!" he shouted, his quivering voice echoing from the far walls of the substation. "Whatever this thing is, don't let it use you! You're stronger than this! You have to fucking fight!"
The same wave as before slammed into Kenjaku. A tidal wave of foreign emotions, urgent and clawing for control welled up from the depths of his very DNA. His host was fighting against him. His host remembered. Never before had he taken over a body and had to deal with any kind of rebound like this. Never before had he needed to actually fight against his host, rather than simply using their abilities. Inside his own mind, he wrestled with himself, desperate to grab onto some way to squash his host back down under his metaphorical thumb. Despite his monumental effort, he could feel himself slipping through the cracks.
The true essence of Suguru Geto surged, spurred on by Gojo's calling. It felt like crawling through tar, pulling from all sides and suffocating in the way it clung. But there was a small part of him that was still there, still ready to fight, and he latched onto that with everything he had.
The second hand came up and hovered over the first for a moment, twitching in the air as Geto fought internally. Slowly, the hand started to reach for the first, peeling away the fingers one by one.
Gojo watched the internal battle unfold with wide, unblinking eyes. In all his life, he had never felt so small, so insignificant, so....powerless. That was the word. Powerless. It gripped his heart like a vice, sending every beat thrumming painfully into his ears. He could count the times he had felt this way on one hand - when Riko Amanai had been killed by Toji Fushiguro, and when he had watched Geto, newly cemented in his radical way of thinking, walk away in Shinjuku. He had held him in his sights, a single flick of his fingers away from snuffing out his life like a candle in a storm. And yet...he had let him disappear into the crowd, knowing full well the death and carnage he would reap, simply because he was Geto.
The prison realm slowly wound its tendrils of cursed energy around his aching limbs, pressing closer and tighter with every breath. How long had it been since the accursed thing had been activated? Ten seconds? Thirty? His breath tore ragged gales through his throat. What could he do? Geto's desperate grip was slowly being peeled away by that thing. The creature controlling his body was slowly winning the battle, and he was running out of time.
"SUGURU!" he cried, sapphire eyes glowing. "You need cursed energy to beat this thing, right? Take mine!" What the hell was he saying? Rational thought bled from his brain, leaving only sheer adrenaline and desperation." Forcing one hand through the red miasma, he reached for his friend with all his strength. "A vow! We can make a binding vow!"
Geto's eyes twitched about widely before fixating on Gojo's outstretched hand. Whatever was happening could be stopped if he could just reach his friend. Gojo may have always been a pompous fool, but he was capable - and together they were unstoppable.
Kenjaku’s left hand shot out, abandoning its goal in removing the right, and instead slapped Gojo's hand away. He was already struggling enough to fight back the true Geto; there was no way he could let these two work together. He would never stand a chance. Just as quickly as he had smacked Gojo away, the very same hand gained a mind of its own and reached out grasping desperately for the other man. NO! Kenjaku's voice screamed inside his own head, the sound so loud Geto could practically feel it vibrating. "Sa-...toru!"
There he was. Gojo could sense him. At the eye of the storm, in the midst of the maelstrom of abominable cursed energy, his friend was there. The knowledge strengthened his resolve, braiding itself into the surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. In this moment, it was just them. Suguru and Satoru, forced by fate to part, then dragged back together for one final desperate moment. Gojo could feel a million needles of cursed energy digging into his flesh as the prison realm converged around him, yet he paid them no mind. The tips of his fingers were going numb as he forced himself to take a step forward, arm still outstretched to the limits of his joints and ligaments. Conditions! Shit, he needed conditions. His mind raced. He probably only had 15 seconds left before he was sealed away. He needed to outline the details of the vow to give Suguru enough power to reclaim his stolen body. Dry lips parted, and he dragged the words from the pits of his soul. "I'm going to give you all of my cursed energy, Suguru!" he shouted, throat raw with emotion and a hint of fear. "In return, you'll take dominion over that--THING--that took you over as long as I am bound by the vow! Now, agree, dammit!" All he had to say was yes - and touch his hand. He could do it, right? Fuck, he HAD to do it. They'd done so many more impressive things in life than a fucking handshake. Gritting his teeth, Gojo managed another halting step forward, leaving only a few inches between their fingertips.
Gritting his teeth, Geto lurched forward one fumbling step and latched onto Gojo's hand. "I a-agree!"
The moment their hands connected, Gojo felt every ounce of cursed energy in his body well up from his core and rush down his arm. If he was in the mood to joke, he would have likened it to vomiting out his fingertips. It felt just as gross. It felt like the time he had taken shots with Shoko after a particularly grueling mission - and a big ramen dinner. The memory of his soul basically fleeing his body and the subsequent feeling of absolute emptiness was a fairly good metaphor for what he felt now. He felt his knees go weak, then collapse beneath him. His free hand barely managed to keep him from falling face first onto the tile. Still, he managed to keep hold of Geto's hand until every last drop of cursed energy had drained from his body.
When his immeasurable power had finally been spent, Gojo managed to lift his head enough to grin at his friend. His electric blue eyes were now the color of an overcast sky, dull and devoid of the bottomless well of cursed energy that had given them their signature glow. "Heh," he coughed a feeble laugh. "Guess you finally got your wish...Suguru. You’re…the strongest now. Don't...fuck it up." The walls of the prison realm opened their red eyes, then converged on their captive, sealing him in a box the size of Geto's palm.
The next few moments were a mad flurry of motion. As soon as the words left his mouth, power flooded Geto's veins. It knocked him backwards a few steps, eventually slamming his back into the wall behind him. The Prison Realm snapped shut, coalescing around its prisoner before shrinking down to an impossible size. Dozens of red eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, then eventually fluttered shut.
Then everything went deafeningly quiet for a moment until the Realm went crashing to the ground with enough force to create a small crater at his feet.
The world around him came into focus. He could actually feel his limbs, rather than the distant memory of their existence. The chill of the stale underground air sank into his skin. He could feel the straps of his sandals, the weight of his Gojou-Kesa on his shoulders, and the tickle of the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. And there, in the center of a man sized crater, was a palm sized box.
Geto sucked in a long, steadying breath. Squaring his shoulders, he shook his head and looked down at the cursed object. He had no recollection of what it was or where it came from. Then it shifted. The red miasma faded away to a dull grey, and the words 'Prison Realm' floated to the front of his mind. That's right, they were going to imprison Satoru in this thing. Crouching on the edge of the crater, he squinted for a better look. To his surprise, the numerous eyes carved into the sides flickered open. At first, they were startlingly red, then slowly shifted to an iridescent blue that was all too familiar. Satoru. They did it. They captured Gojo. "Shit..." Geto whispered to himself.
Don't fuck it up. He didn't even really understand what it was Gojo had been referring to. The past - what had it been now, a year? Maybe longer? - existed in his brain as a muddled blur. It was like watching a grainy old movie on a projector that kept seizing up. The bits and pieces he recalled, he watched through his own eyes - and yet it still felt like he was on the outside looking in. He vaguely remembered that the thing in his brain wanted to capture Gojo in this cube. Looking around, he recalled them coming to Shibuya to cause utter chaos in order to make it happen.
Who was ‘them’?
Geto’s brow furrowed. ‘He’ and several other cursed spirits and users had worked in tandem to seal the city block in a veil, then unleashed a cursed technique that turned normal people into monsters. It created enough mayhem that the sorcerers’ efforts were spread thin, and they were able to get Gojo alone to overwhelm him. He had to use a fractionated version of Infinite Void to take out all the transfigured humans while minimizing the damage to the survivors. It had worn him down enough that when he saw…
Geto suddenly felt sick to his stomach. When the Prison Realm opened, Gojo had tried to get away. It was only when he saw Geto that he froze within the cursed object’s range. He was the reason the most powerful sorcerer on earth had been paralyzed at the mercy of his foe. And then his former best friend had given everything to bring him back.
Mercifully, he was alone at the moment, so he was able to compose himself. There was no time to dwell on that now. The fight was likely still ongoing in the station above his head, and he was apparently at the helm. He had to figure out what to do, and quickly. Perhaps he should find a way to escape the chaos and free Satoru so he could fill him in on the year he had been used as a host.
Before he could get any further, a voice sounded from across the crowded platform. "Heyyyy, you got him!"
Geto turned around to see a silver-haired, patch-faced man in a plaid poncho waving at him from the staircase leading to the next level. He wore a jovial, almost too-perfect smile and waved with all the enthusiasm of an excited child as he skipped down the stairs. The bewildered people on the platform turned to stare blankly at him as he passed. One didn't move out of his way fast enough, so he planted his hand over the woman's face and shoved her backward. By the time her head hit the wall behind her, her body had transformed into a hideous, disfigured purple monstrosity with six arms and one leg. A wheedling cry was all the creature could manage as it slumped against the floor; the transformation had left it without lungs, and its dying breath carried its death rattle to its ignominious grave.
A few paces back, a tall, sullen man wearing a deep purple kesa vest over a loose-fitting nagajuban robe followed at a slow, deliberate pace. His face was a mask of indifference, split by a jagged black line across the bridge of his nose. Two spiky buns crested the top of his head, and his complexion seemed a bit too pallid to be healthy. He ignored the humans in various states of stupor and sluggish panic, picking his way around them like he was wandering aimlessly through a forest.
Geto turned to face the newcomers. Mahito and Choso. The names drifted through his thoughts at the sight of them. Were they human? Their energy felt off. Geto schooled his face as he watched them approach, desperate to conceal the fact that he was wracking his brain to remember anything at all. Bit by bit, fragments of disjointed memory floated to the surface. That’s right - the patch faced one was Mahito, the manifestation of humanity’s fear of its fellow man. The other was the product of force feeding a normal human a death womb painting they had stolen from the vaults at the school. Both were his cohorts, hellbent on creating an age of curses where they could roam free. His nose crinkled slightly as the woman Mahito shoved aside shifted then died, but he chose to ignore her. Now was not the time to be focusing on things he should already be overly familiar with. No, right now he needed to step back from this whole situation until he could free Satoru and catch up on what had been happening since he supposedly died. His former friend would likely be the only one he could trust - and now that he was powerless, it would be easy to contain him again once he got what he wanted.
Plastering a smile on his face, Geto pushed himself to his feet and raised a welcoming hand. Convincing his ‘companions’ that everything was going swimmingly was paramount right now. Trying to sound pleased with the situation, he motioned to the cube on the ground. "I sure did. All according to plan."
“Cool beans.” The curse began leisurely making his way across the platform, occasionally swatting down a helpless human with a few idle passes of his hands. Hideous creatures arose from their remains, gurgling and groaning as they wriggled, crawled and rolled across the floor. The death womb painting followed silently behind him, stepping over the disfigured monstrosities like they were nothing more than a fallen tree in his way.
With the distance between them closed at last, Mahito leaned down to get a closer look at the Prison Realm, thumbs hooked idly in his belt loops. "Hard to believe a guy that tall could fit in such a tiny box," he whistled. "I'll admit, I had my doubts."
"Yes, well..." Geto paused. Trying to clear his mind so he could remember what he should know was like trying to see through a dense fog. If he focused long enough, a vague outline would come into view. It still didn't feel like enough. He was going to have to keep his responses purposefully vague. "It was quite the event. It's a shame you weren't here to see it. How about the others? How have they managed?"
"Eh, I dunno." Mahito shrugged and straightened up. "I don't sense Hanami anymore. That Gojo guy must have taken them out. Which sucks. They owed me a free dinner after that last game of Mah Jong. Choso’s following me like a little lost puppy.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and the other man gave him a surly scowl. “I can tell Jogo is still around here somewhere. A few of the sorcerers you brought are still kicking around too - though I think we’ve lost that old granny and the guy she had with her. Oh, and the bald guy. What was his name…oh, it doesn’t matter. He sucked. Why?" He gave him a cheeky grin. "Ya worried?"
"Of course not," he smiled back. "They wouldn't have been included in such an important part of our plans if I didn't believe them to be competent enough to make it this far. Though Hanami is..." He paused for a moment, which one was that again? The blood manipulator? No, that's not right. That was the death womb painting in front of him.The one with the rose, that was it. "An unfortunate loss." Geto was surprised to find himself somewhat saddened that the curse was gone. While they weren’t their strongest fighter, they were certainly intelligent and more calm mannered than some of the others. Geto had grown to enjoy her company, their game nights especially. They would be missed.
Wait. His brow furrowed slightly. No… That wasn’t right either. He couldn’t stand curses. His goal was to eradicate them entirely along with the monkeys that created them. These vague feelings of sadness weren’t his. They had to be coming from the entity that had controlled him for the past year.
He quickly shook himself from his thoughts. If he took too long to respond, it would seem suspicious. "Now is not the time to dwell on such things, however,” he said casually. “I would imagine that since the others aren't here, they're still occupied elsewhere. Why don't you go and see if you can lend a hand? I'll remain here to make sure our new guest stays in place till the Prison Realm is ready to move."
Before Mahito could respond, they heard a loud boom from the tunnel off the edge of the platform. Bodies flew in every direction in the wake of a small ball of fire, crashing into the floor, the walls or simply being vaporized by the white hot blast. Thick smoke billowed from the broken cement, silhouetting a hulking, inhuman figure approaching from the tracks.
“Geto!” came a gravelly, irritated voice. As the newcomer stalked out of the smog, Geto was able to make out his features. A smoldering volcanic cone perched on top of its sickly gray head, which was clearly the source of the blast a few seconds earlier. A single, bulbous yellowed eye was set in a sour frown, and a jaw that seemed a bit too big for its face ground flat, off white teeth. A spotted poncho covered thin, spindly arms with tightly clenched fists as he approached at a swift, deliberate speed.
Which one was this? Geto racked his brain. Name. He needed a name. Thankfully, Mahito beat him to the punch.
“Jogo!” Mahito raised his hand for a jovial wave. “There you are! Man, you look rough.” Planting his hands on his hips, the patchfaced curse gave him a condescending smirk. “Did Gojo kick your butt?”
“Shut up,” Jogo growled. He came to a stop a few paces from his companions and folded his arms tightly across his chest. “That monster took out Hanami and almost killed me too. It was no laughing matter.”
“Sure it was!” Mahito chirped. “Anyone who looked at you couldn’t help but laugh. You look like your dog died, then reanimated and threw up on your carpet.”
Jogo ground his flat teeth. “Do you not care at all that our comrade was destroyed?”
The patchfaced curse blinked, then reached up to pinch his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he considered. It was as if the thought of being upset by his friend’s death had never occurred to him. “Hmmm,” he mused, mismatched eyes studying the ceiling. “I guess it sucks a little…things might be a little bit harder now that we’re down a guy. But!” Dropping his hands, he lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “I’ve pretty much perfected my transfiguration technique, so it shouldn’t be too big of a deal.”
“That’s not–” Jogo stared at him incredulously, then set his jaw. There was no use arguing with Mahito. The other curse had no empathy - it was a staple of his personality. He would have to mourn Hanami on his own. With a deep, shuddering breath, he turned back to Geto. “So what now? Are we going to look for Sukuna?”
Sukuna. Geto raced through his borrowed memories. He had, himself, learned of the ancient sorcerer during his own studies back at Jujutsu High. The worst curse user in history, locked away as 20 cursed fingers scattered about Japan. What did such a calamity have to do with their current objective?
“Bah, I don’t think we need Sukuna.” Wandering a few steps forward, Mahito reached out to clap the palm of his hand over a stuporous human’s face. A horrid squelching sound echoed through the platform as the woman’s flesh liquidated and contorted, bubbling into a horrid beast three times her original size. Seven mismatched limbs protruded from its fleshy sides, each with its own mismatched foot. The creature opened a mouth roughly the size of a grown man, revealing dripping, pointed teeth as it emitted a sickening moan.
Stepping back to admire his handiwork, Mahito grinned smugly over at Jogo. “I think I can handle this all on my own. Actually, I’ve been thinking…wouldn’t it be fun to just kill Yuji Itadori?!” A gleeful look stole over his face as he rubbed his hands together. “He just…BUGS me so much! Always wanting to save everyone. Makes my ears bleed when he talks.”
“Yuji Itadori killed my brothers,” Choso said darkly. “If we are to kill him, I will be the one to end his life.”
“Psssht, no way!” Mahito gave the spiky headed man a petulant look. “I’m not letting you have all the fun.”
“We need Sukuna to usher in the age of curses,” Jogo growled. Had these two lost their minds? He glared back and forth between his companions, silently begging them to see reason. “Even a curse as strong as Hanami was taken out by the sorcerers. We need every bit of firepower we can get. We need to find Yuji Itadori and feed him the fingers we’ve gathered so we can get Sukuna on our side.”
“Lighten up, Jogo,” Mahito scoffed, waving him off with a flick of his wrist. “Even if we get to talk to Sukuna, there’s no guarantee he’ll make a deal with us. Besides - with Gojo out of the way, we don’t have anything to worry about. Hey!” His face lit up, and he spread his arms wide. “Why don’t we have a race to see who can find Itadori first? Whoever finds him can decide what to do with him.” He turned eagerly to Geto. “Eh? How about it? What do you think?”
It was all too much too fast. Geto had no idea who Yuji Itadori was, and there wasn’t enough time to dig through the parasite’s memories in order to figure it out. It would be best if he just let them go do as they pleased while he tried to get his bearings. “Yeah…that sounds fine.” His gaze drifted down to the Prison Realm, which still lay in the middle of the cavity in the floor of the platform. The familiar brilliant blue eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring hollowly into nothingness from all facets of the cube. Geto’s brows twitched, and he lowered his head to look a little closer. Were those eyes…crying? Dropping back onto his haunches, he reached into the crater to try to pick up the box. Surprisingly, he found himself unable to lift it from its resting place. Its weight had increased exponentially, rendering it completely immovable.
“What’s the matter?” Mahito asked, cocking his head to the side. “Can you not pick it up?”
“It would seem I cannot.” Geto gave it a few more tugs, then gave up and climbed back to his feet. Sometimes cursed objects designed to entrap became exceedingly heavy while they processed the information they had swallowed. That would make sense - especially considering the overwhelming strength of its captive. Well…former overwhelming strength. Gojo’s power now flowed through his veins. What an awesome and terrifying prospect. Tucking his hands into his sleeves, he eased his face into a casual smile. “It seems I’ll be staying here for the time being. Cursed objects such as these take time to be able to move. I’ll wait until it returns to its normal weight, then catch up with you later.”
“So you don’t care what we do with Yuji Itadori?” Mahito pressed excitedly.
Geto shook his head. “No. Do as you please.” For the time being, he didn’t care about this mystery person. He needed to figure out what was going on, and quickly. The sooner his ‘companions’ left him alone, the better.
“But–!” Jogo started to protest, but was quickly cut off by the other curse letting out a loud whoop.
“Sweet!” Interlocking his fingers, Mahito stretched his arms over his head, cracking all of his knuckles at once as he turned to Geto. "Mind if I take all these humans with me?"
"That's fine," he waved a dismissive hand. Monkeys were still monkeys after all. "Take whatever you need. They either die now or later, so we might as well make their menial lives useful."
"Awesome!" With a gleeful grin, Mahito launched into a sprint, making quick work of the men and women at the edge of the platform. In his wake he left a trail of deformed monstrosities, some as tall as the ceiling, some small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. On the second pass, he scooped up the tiny transfigurations and, without missing a step, swallowed them whole. In less than a minute, the entire platform was entirely devoid of humanity, leaving only the disfigured and wretched specters of the victims behind.
“Hey!” Jogo snarled. “No fair, you got a head start!” He shot one last withering look at Geto. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he ground out, then raced off toward the steps with Choso close behind.
An easy smile spread across Geto’s face, and he raised a single hand in farewell. Once the three of them were out of sight, he dropped both his hand and his smile. His face remained blank for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned to look down at the Prison Realm, brow pinching as he stared at what remained of the single soul he ever truly felt connected to. Memories he had buried for a decade came rushing back. The single soul who was now powerless and completely at the mercy of the one who should be considered his enemy.
Geto turned to face the cube directly, folding his hands into his sleeves as he moved. His frown deepened and murmured, "You're a fool." Whether he was talking to himself or Satoru, he wasn't entirely sure.