Chapter Text
I know what it means to be a sorcerer, you lose people. I am not unfamiliar with loss. Losing Rika was the most difficult moment of my life, and I am one of the few lucky ones.
I am tired. I don’t think anyone has ever been this tired, the world attempted to swallow us whole and we rode it out: Maki, Toge, and I.
And, good god, I’m tired.
Deliriously I stumble around Jujutsu High attempting to find my room, a couch, or even a chair. My brain is struggling to comprehend everything. Rika is– gone.
I know she died years ago now, but now she really feels truly gone. I know her cursed energy remains in me; I want it gone. I would give up everything– all of it– just to have my friend back.
I trip into a half-open doorway.
“Shit”
Next thing I know, I'm crying. No eye sting, no pain: just a sudden and intense rush of tears down my face. This cry is almost robotic in a way, I can’t stop but I also cannot make any noise.
It didn't even hurt, I'm not sure why I even bothered to cuss and cry. I’ve dealt with real shit, real pain: but running into a goddamn door breaks me down. My face is almost sticky with tears, and probably some blood as well: but not from the dumbass door. I should have found Shoko, I should have done something, I should have saved innocent lives tonight. But who could be saved by some fucking stupid 16-year-old who runs into doorways. I need to sleep, preferably forever.
I hear wailing in the next room. Not crying, wailing. A sound that whips me out of the well I fell into.
The sound that I made when Rika died. The sound that hundreds are probably making tonight after the loss of their loved ones in that goddamn Night Parade thanks to that Geto.
This feels close though, no non-sorcerer would’ve come here to grieve. Who would come to High School to cry? Why not a church? I guess we are the front for a religious school and all, but the sound still doesn’t match its location: and how would someone even get in here. Tengen could've stopped them, most likely. Or Gojo could talk them into leaving.
I follow the sound, as if I was magnetized: grief attaches itself to grief, I guess.
After nearly stumbling again I reach a door with a light behind it. The sound is almost piercing.
It could be a cursed spirit, some kind of non-speaking kind that escaped from the Night Parade somehow. But also, there is Tengen again, destroying any realistic possibility that emerges in my mind.
Just in case, I prepare to fight.
I open the door, so quick, it slams against the wall.
Just beyond the door is a rabid animal, hair white and eyes blue.
Inside is my mentor, the perfect Satoru Gojo– wailing and disheveled.