Chapter Text
Satoru.
Death is unwelcoming. It grasps you and it does not let go.
It’s unbearable; even when you know it’s coming. Satoru is familiar with the feeling-he knows what it’s like to die.
He knows what it’s like to feel yourself slipping away, the darkness at the edge of your vision taking it completely over.
And now, even with his six eyes, he can no longer see clearly. Life’s fading, though he can still make out the sky, with his head against the floor, as his legs stay standing.
It had hurt- not like it wasn’t going to. It was a quick deadly blow, clean and slick, but it hurt regardless, leaving Satoru to feel discombobulated; is that the right way to put it?
Your torso detached from your legs?
Being cut in half?
Is discombobulated really the right word? Who knows? Satoru was never good with feelings anyways, and now, even though Satoru had walked into this fight willingly, knowing he was not going to make it out, choosing the date of December 24th- because having two death dates was too confusing- he had still felt that pride and hope when he had “won”.
That upper hand, despite only being for a split second, was like the light at the end of the tunnel; the tunnel Satoru lived as. The pressure of the world against his shoulders, the burden on his chest.
And despite the outcome, and then the acceptance of it, fear finds its hold onto Satoru, as he can no longer see, the void fading into his sight more and more.
“You were Magnificent Satoru Gojo,” The curse bellows. Satoru can feel a smile play onto his lips; one last time. “I shall never forget you for as long as I live.”
And the smile stays. Satoru does not mind the fact that the last reason he smiled was because he was considered strong, because it is not the same as the nameless pride he had been thrown at all his life. No.
It’s someone of his power, of his status in another way, accepting him as an equal.
Yes, Satoru know’s it’s lame, stupid even, because there was so much more in his life than the king of curses, so many more people who should have been the last reason he smiled, as the light faded out of him and the world went dark, but they were not here. They were not the people making him smile- and they never were going to be.
Gojo Satoru was never supposed to be more than his power, and now he never would be.
Satoru is not entirely aware of when the light completely fades. He wished he could’ve stayed a little longer, muttered some more words of appreciation, did some more things, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.
Satoru’s mind wanders, drawing him to so many questions.
Who would watch over Yuji? Yuta? Nobara? Who would watch over his second years, the ones with the shit eating grins, and the deep insults, that they knew Satoru would be dramatic over. Who would make sure the third years didn’t get into even more trouble then they normally did?
Who would be Shoko’s best friend; shit he left her, like everyone else did. He left her, high and dry, like they both always knew was going to happen, somewhere deep down inside of them.
Who was going to save Megumi? Megumi deserved so much better than this fate. He couldn’t be stuck as Sukuna, he wasn’t allowed to be. He had so much ahead of him. Satoru had failed yet another Fushiguro; hadn’t he?
All Satoru had wanted, all his dream was, was for these kids, his kids, to not have to deal with this unfair universe anymore. They deserved to choose what came upon them, chose how to handle the tough and easy decisions, and yet Satoru would never see that happen, never see their growth.
And yes, part of it is on Satoru. His foolish pride, yet it was senseful in some manners, his boasting, though he could back it up, and his decisions, though some of them were smart ones. But he could not change the past, and he had come to terms with that ages ago, when he had lost his best friend, not once, not even twice, but three times over.
So Satoru does let the darkness take him over. He does not know when, hardly even cares at this point-he knows who he’s been waiting to see; he knows who’s been waiting to see him.
His mind does go blank, for once in his goddamn life. He does not think. He does not feel, though this time it’s a good numbness, not oblivion to feelings. He does not breathe, he does not walk, he does not stand, nor talk, he dies.
Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, the wielder of limitless, and the bearer of six eyes, dies. Harshly, nobly, willingly, dead.
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
“Yo!” A familiar voice rings throughout Satoru’s ears. Satoru throws his head back and body against the airport seat in retaliation.
“Gah!” He answers, turning his head to the side. He didn’t need to do that, he already knew who was occupying the seat next to him. Satoru would always recognize his presence. “No freakin way! Could things get any worse?!”
Suguru’s face darkens and a scowl plasters across his face. He turns accusingly towards Satoru.
“How rude-” He grumbles, putting his hand that was waving moments prior, down. “-and right after seeing me?!”
“I told one of my students, didn’t I?” Satoru sighs, tilting his head back further and then to the side. “That when it’s your time, you die alone. Ugh, God please tell me this is just my imagination.”
“Tch,” Suguru scoffs. “Does it matter either way?”
“It does, and then there’s the matter of his father-oh well, I already asked Shoko to handle that.” Satoru scratches the back of his neck.
Suguru allows there to be silence for a second, Satoru feeling his eyes trace his own face, seeing how Satoru is. God Satoru hates (loves), when he does that.
“So how was the king of curses?” Suguru muses, giving Satoru his easy smile. Satoru had missed that.
“Man, he was crazy strong!” Satoru yelps. “Plus, he didn’t even go all out!”
Suguru nods. “Mm, really?”
“Yeah, Sukuna’s strong, I’m not even sure I could’ve beaten him even if he didn’t have Megumi’s ten shadows.”
Suguru chuckles. “He’s so strong that he made you admit that?”
Satoru smiles and nods, before his face sobers out and Satoru’s eyes fall onto the floor. It’s Suguru, he can be honest with him, can’t he?
“I do feel a bit sorry for him though.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow in interest. “Why?”
Satoru shrugs, eyes still downcast and on the floor. “I can empathize with the magnitude of his sheer solitude more than anyone else. I love everyone and don’t feel lonely now, but somewhere along the way, there was a line I drew. Not as a human being; but as a living creature.”
Suguru doesn’t speak. He stares ahead, but his eyes are bright and listening. Satoru sighs.
“You can make a flower bloom, you can admire it, but you can’t tell that flower ‘I want you to understand me.” Suguru doesn’t answer again, allowing for Satoru to continue talking. Satoru curls his fist together. “It’s just, the skill I drilled into this tempered body of mine, my refined senses, even my haphazard tactics and explosive power- I gave it my all. I wanted to convey everything to Sukuna… I wanted him to know. Know that the absolute strongest, and the-the loneliness that follows. The one who would teach him about love was-well it was fun.”
Satoru’s eyes glisten as he brings them up to look ahead of himself and outside of the airport he’s sitting in.
“But in the end, Sukuna wasn’t able to give it his all, and for that I’m sorry.”
Suguru pushes his head to the side, leaning his knuckles against the side of his forehead. His eyes eager with interest.
“You’re making me jealous,” he jokes. “But if you're satisfied, then that’s alright.”
Satoru scoffs dryly.
“Satisfted?” He spits. “If you were among those patting my back-” Satoru pictures his students. Their faces tired, worn out, but still smiling, because it was Satoru they were sending out. The person who was supposed to save them, the person they trusted. “-then I might’ve been satisfied.”
There’s a split moment of silence, Satoru growing unsure that Suguru will understand what he means, what any of the things he’s just said means, but the doubt quiets rather quick, Suguru breaking the silence with his laugh.
“Ha!” Suguru chuckles, his bang flicking into his eyes, the same bang Satoru had grown to love all those years ago, in stolen moments in the night, of two best friends sharing deep thoughts or giggles for no reason or every reason at all; the same bang Satoru would never forget left him in that street, never turning back, and underneath all the hatred and the tear shed, the love that left with him, the permanent whole in Satoru’s stiffly made heart.
“Anyway,” Satoru shakes it off. He’s with Suguru; that’s all that matters. “I’m just glad I didn’t die of old age or some kind of illness, but rather ‘cause of someone stronger-”
“What are you, an old military general? No one thinks like that nowadays-it’s creepy.”
Satoru turns around, “Huh?!”
“But I guess that’s the reason you were able to live longer than me.” The voice is calculated and steady, as usual. It’s always been.
Satoru snaps his head around, his eyes tracing along Nanami’s blonde hair, before he reaches his hand over the seats and snatches onto it, ruffling it up.
“It’s all within a margin of error! For the both of you!!” Haibara chirps up, a smile on his face, his eyes customarily bright.
Nanami swats his hands at Gojo’s, a vain attempt to push Satoru off. Eventually, Satoru does let go, allowing for Nanami to speak again.
“It’s like I told Geto a long time ago,” He grumbles. “Why not just let you take care of everything by yourself from now on?”
Satoru stares at him, his gaze widening. What did he mean by that?
Satoru can’t stop his lips from pouting, his face from feeling hurt. He waits for his friend to continue.
Nanami looks at him critically, but not judging. “You live for Jujustu. You don’t wield it to protect something,” Nanami stares directly at Satoru the whole time. Satoru feels himself ache, but also feels himself understanding it. He has always been Jujustu, hasn’t he? “You use it solely for the sake of satisfying yourself; you’re a weirdo.”
“Nanami!!” Haibara yelps. Satoru looks over at him, Nanami doing the same. “Everyone thinks that-but it’s not the thing they say aloud! No one says that type of stuff out loud!”
“Haibara,” Nanami rubs his temple. “You’re annoying me more than he does.”
Haibara clasps his hands together quickly. “Sorry.”
“But it’s not like you’re wrong,” Nanami continues, turning his attention back to Satoru. “I mean, you clearly admitted to it just now-” Satoru stares at him intently, words not finding their way out from his throat, “-That was an end worthy of you, and I won’t condone it, but I can sympathize.”
Satoru nods curtly. “Well thanks. How was yours?”
“Um, well I butted into it,” Haibara interposes.
“A curse can save people too, just like Jujustu,” Nanami whistles. “In the past, this is what Mei Mei said when I asked her about recommendations for leaving the country: If you want to start anew head north; if you want to return to your old self head south,”
“Without hesitation, I chose somewhere south. I’m such a backwards looking person, and yet I bet on the future in my final moment,”
Satoru nods along, feeling Nanami’s words in his skin, leaving a trail of ghost tingles over him.
“-and it wasn't a bad one at all,” Nanami chuckles softly. “I’ve got Haibara to thank for that.”
Haibara chuckles back, his voice loud and airy in contrast to Nanami’s tone. “You’re welcome!”
A small smile plays onto Satoru’s lips, “I see.”
Satoru catches sight of his old teacher, a boyish glint vanquishing into his eyes.
“Ay prez! Wasn’t there supposed to be no such thing as a sorcerer dying without any regrets?!” Satoru screams, catching Yaga off guard.
“Jesus, Satoru, shut up!” His teacher fires back, turning around and sending a glare over his shoulder.
Satoru chuckles to start, before erupting into a fit of giggles. He waves at Yaga obnoxiously, Suguru doing the same before they turn over to each other completely, and then lose it much more.
Satoru catches the way even Nanami and Haibara can’t contain their laughter, all four of them laughing as if there is no tomorrow, which in their case, maybe there isn’t.
A sliver of hope blooms through Satoru’s chest, lodging its way to his heart. It drapes itself around him, as if a blanket, smothering Satoru in warmth. The hope, another beat of blood through his body, finding its own blood cell to claim, making itself another mandatory thing for his heart to push out. This tiny little hope, this miniscule feeling, like nothing Satoru’s ever felt before, contradicts the something he was wishing against earlier; leaving him stuck.
Which one should he hope for? Both? Neither?
God, Satoru prays that this, this place, these people, are not his imagination.
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
It’s quiet and peaceful, as Satoru walks the hallways.
Satoru’s unsure why he’s doing this; he just wanted to walk around and look. Observe where he was- he was always good at knowing his surroundings.
Satoru finds himself in almost the exact same spot he was at before, just this time it’s further away from the other seats and in a different section. It’s not very big in this airport, medium sized, Satoru guesses.
His eyes burn a little bit as he looks out the window, meeting with the glaring sun that’s slowly but surely setting. He doesn’t mind being here per se. He’s fine with who he’s surrounded by, he hasn’t had a single care in the world since he’s gotten here, well some here and there, but he’s fine now.
It’s just, why is he here? Why is he here in this airport? Isn’t it when you die, you go to heaven? Or hell? Or you become something new, rebirth and being reborn? Or are you just in the ground?
Satoru never cared much for believing in that stuff, but he found heaven and hell understanding and the one he went by the most. Satoru wants to say that this is heaven, but wouldn’t it have a lot more people if it was?
Or was heaven different for everybody?
“Hey Satoru.” Suguru calls, walking over to where Satoru has been sitting.
Satoru looks up at him with curious eyes. “Mm, hi.”
Suguru’s eyes flick to Satoru’s side, eyeing up the empty seat. Satoru does not tell him no when he sits down, he just looks at him, an understanding of some sort passing between them.
“What’cha doing?” Suguru asks. Satoru shrugs.
“Just wandering, not sure how long I’m going to be here, wherever here is.” Satoru looks at his ex-best friend's face, trying to study it for a reaction.
Suguru’s reaction is anything but helpful, as his brows crease together in consideration. His eyes are still the same shade of purple they always were, and his hair is tied back, and even though Satoru had only seen it grow longer for a little bit, he knows his hair is still going to be past his shoulders.
“Well, we can probably…pass over?” Suguru says hesitantly. Satoru looks into Suguru’s eyes, locking them together, as he tilts his head.
“Pass over?” Satoru repeats.
Suguru shrugs. “I don’t know, isn't that what dead people do? They pass over into the afterlife or something?”
“Is this not?”
“Is this not what?”
“Is this not the after life?”
Suguru shrugs. “I honestly don’t know Satoru. It’s just us, Nanami, Haibara, and Yaga here. I haven’t seen anyone else, and I hardly know if I’m real or just dreaming.”
Satoru sighs. “Then you’ve been dreaming for a damn long time.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Satoru tilts his head back, a habit he’s started doing here. His neck rests upon the top rail of the seat, his head leaning backwards and his hair cascading over his eyes. He blinks a few strands away, wondering how Suguru deals with his own hair all the time.
There's a silence between the two of them again, Satoru welcoming it graciously. He wants to say to himself that everything is fine between them, that they are fine to be together again like this, in this proximity, in these funny, joking manners, but he’s not so sure they are.
There had been a part of him before him and Suguru had spoken in this very same airport, mere hours ago maybe, where Satoru had prayed this was his imagination. How could he and Suguru end up together again, after Suguru had left him so many times?
But now, after talking with him again, he felt okay. He knew this is where he belonged; with Suguru.
Satoru sighs, looking over at the curse user. Suguru is pulling his hair down from the bun it’s in, letting his hair fall down his shoulders. It looks nice.
“Suguru,” Satoru starts, allowing Suguru to look over at him. He does look over, in fact he stops what he’s doing and makes direct eye contact with Satoru. Satoru’s cheeks flush before he pushes down any feelings, making sure to talk with a planted and stern voice. “What-how-I-” Great so much for a planted voice. “Why are we acting like nothing's wrong?”
Suguru’s eyes never drop but his face falters, falling into a deeper look than they have been.
“I don’t know,” Suguru replies, a shrug in his large shoulders. “Where do we even start? Why should we even start?”
“Well why wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know anything; that’s what’s scary.” Suguru’s voice sounds ten times younger when he says that, and Satoru can’t handle it. Why were they here? Satoru and Suguru were supposed to pass away, for good, not be stuck together in an airport where old feelings and memories and conversations left unspoken can unrot, can be resurfaced.
Satoru rubs his fingers between his temples.
“Suguru, I-I-why did you leave me?” Satoru asks, his voice wavering again. “All those years ago, why did you leave me?”
Suguru drops his gaze. “I told you-”
“You didn’t tell me anything, I found out!” Satoru hisses. He points his finger accusingly at him. “I heard that you killed that village, those people, I heard that you killed your parents, and then I asked you if all that was true and you said yes, that’s it. Just yes. You told me I wouldn’t understand, ever, why you were doing what you did, so please Suguru, before we pass over, or whatever it is that we have to do, why-okay? Just why, why did you do it? Why for those ten years did you leave me alone?”
Suguru looks back over at him, his eyes closing and then reopening rather slowly.
“Satoru, I-you still aren’t going to get it,” he says. Satoru looks at him and shakes his head.
“Why not, Suguru? Why?”
“Because I did it for-oh nevermind.” Suguru says, looking past Satoru’s shoulder.
“Tch,” Satoru scoffs. Suguru was the same as that day in front of the kfc. The same person who left his best friend alone in a world where they completed each other. The same person who apparently knew more than Satoru did, and was too high and mighty to enlighten the six eyes on what they were seeing.
“What’cha guys talking about?” Haibara asks, plopping himself on the airport floor. Satoru closes his eyes, daring any of the frustration tears brimming at the tips of his eyes to fall.
“Just things,” Suguru replies, an easy smile on his lips again. Satoru wishes it was that simple, but he had ruined it hadn’t he? They had been okay for those few minutes when Satoru had first woken up here. Suguru and Satoru again, not Suguru and Satoru. It was all Satoru’s fault wasn’t it, like usual?
It was Satoru’s fault that the star plasma vessel had died. He had failed the mission given to him, the mission he was supposed to complete for the sake of Tengen and many more.
It was Satoru’s fault that Haibara had died, for he had not been there to hear about the level of the curse, and he had come too late with too little time, having to take care of Haibara’s mission rather than help him.
It was Satoru’s fault that no one noticed Suguru was slipping away. He was his best friend, and yet he couldn’t tell what was up with him.
It was Satoru’s fault that he had to take the two Fushiguro siblings under his wing; he had killed their father. He had made sure they weren’t sold to the Zenin clan, and then it was his fault with whatever happened after he became their benefactor.
It was Satoru’s fault that Suguru had wished war upon them, because Satoru had taken Yuta under his wing as well. He had postponed his execution telling the higher ups that this kid was so much more than he seemed, and now it was his fault that Yuta had learned to kill, learned to fight, and learned to be a weapon. Probably in Satoru’s body as they spoke, just like the plan b was. It was Satoru's fault that the kid was never going to be the same.
It was Satoru’s fault that Yuji Itadori did not die. He had pushed for this kid to live, made sure of it, if you will, and now look where that got them. Yuji was living, thriving, but the spark that had been in Yuji’s eyes before all of this started was long gone, dead; which was Satoru’s fault.
It was Satoru’s fault that Suguru’s body had not been burned and now was used as the vessel of Kenjaku. God how it was Satoru’s fault he had been put into the prison realm. He had faltered, his infinity dropped, his senses dulled, and oh the hope at hearing his name come from those lips. The very lips Satoru would dream about coming back to him. The voice that he was slowly forgetting, coming at him at full force.
And it was Satoru’s fault Megumi was taken over by Sukuna. It was Satoru’s fault that he had lost. It was Satoru’s fault that they now were without the six eyes and limitless, without the strongest.
It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was Satoru’s fault. It was-
“Gojo? Are you there?” A hand was waving itself in front of Satoru’s face. Satoru blinked, looking at where the hand was connected to an arm. Haibara’s arm.
“Yeah, sorry.” Satoru responds, rubbing his eyes and pushing his glasses up as far as they could go.
Haibara shakes his hands. “No biggie, me and Geto were just talking about something important though!”
Satoru raises an eyebrow. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Were you that zoned out?” Haibara asks. Satoru shrugs but gives a slight nod of his head. Haibara laughs it off, before continuing. “We were thinking about crossing or passing over, y’know? Like, going to heaven or to hell.”
Satoru’s eyes widen. It was not just some random idea that Suguru had, the others also really wanted to know if “passing over” was real.
“So what about it?” Satoru pries, eager for the new information. Haibara shrugs.
“Maybe doing it soon.”
Suguru nods in agreement. “We were thinking of doing it in a few minutes.”
Satoru looks over at Suguru, tilting his head.
It wasn't necessarily a bad idea. It had its benefits, but it also had its doubts. Was everyone on board with it? Was it the right way to go? Was it real? Were they all going to heaven or going to hell?
Satoru has killed and Suguru has killed, were they going to heaven?
“If you don’t want to do it, just say so.” Suguru says, allowing for Satoru to have some breathing room. Satoru wishes he could think about it longer, wishes he could spend more time pondering, but he’s curious, and he is done waiting in an airport that isn’t going anywhere.
“I think it’s a good idea, as long as everyone is on board with it.” Satoru replies. Suguru gives a curt nod, and Haibara smiles.
“Nanami is, and so is Yaga, so that makes everyone!” Haibara announces. Satoru nods.
“So let’s do it then.”
It doesn’t take long for all of them to come together to try and figure out a plan. Nanami and Yaga share their insight, trying to find the best suited plan.
Eventually they come up dry and with nothing, so they all sit down together passing words, and what not.
Time is an odd concept here, dead, in the afterlife, whatever it was, but Satoru can feel his patience slipping.
And to put it lightly, crossing over is, well, weird?
None of them are sure how to do it, and none of them are sure it’s going to work. They’re all bunched in a circle, nothing in the middle of them, just sitting there waiting.
Satoru wishes the after life, or the in between the after life-whatever this is- had a manual so they could read up on what the hell to do.
It’s like nails on a chalkboard, the agonizing waiting for the noise to stop, anticipation for when your ears will stop bleeding. Satoru’s in agony waiting for this to stop, he’s sitting in anticipation for whether he will be met with fire or feathers.
Satoru rubs his eyes, an odd feeling of tiredness washing over him. His technique has been dulled, infinity hardly being able to stay up. He’s pretty sure it’s because he’s dead, and now he doesn’t need his technique, so it’s disappearing.
He had asked Suguru about it while they had been waiting, Suguru telling him that he didn’t really feel any of the curses in him anymore. He also could hardly summon them.
“You can go to bed if you want to.” Suguru taps him on the shoulder. Satoru inches away a little bit.
“ ‘m not tired.” Satoru replies. Suguru raises an eyebrow.
“You look it and sound it.”
Yaga glances over at him. “Go to bed Satoru.”
Satoru looks between all of them. “And what if you guys cross over and I’m stuck here?”
Suguru shakes his head. “I’ll make sure you aren’t.”
But that’s a lie isn’t it? Satoru hates being alone, but he’s always found himself alone anyways. Suguru had left him once before, so he can leave him again, especially in the afterlife where there is no guarantee that Satoru can follow him.
Satoru nuzzles his head onto the palm of his hand. If he falls asleep then so be it, but he will not willingly call upon the depths of sleep. He’s done fine his whole life lacking sleep, especially after he unlocked reverse curse technique. He just simply healed his brain whenever he got tired, and after Suguru left, sleep was even more foreign.
Light chatter filters throughout the room that they are in, Satoru catching bits and pieces. He doesn’t engage with any of it, never finding the need too. He’s tired, he’s really tired.
At one point Satoru can feel his eyelids fluttering shut, and he forcefully keeps them open. Everyone is still in the same positions as before, nobody moving aside for when they readjust themselves on a chair, or open their mouth to say another set of words.
Satoru can feel the exhaustion hanging on him more than it ever has before. How long have they been waiting here like this? Why have they been waiting for so long? It feels like it’s been days.
Satoru’s losing hope, and consciousness.
Crossing over has to be a thing, right? Why aren’t there more dead people in this airport? They must have crossed over already, no? Why was Satoru stuck here waiting?
Satoru blinks rapidly, feeling himself falling away even more. Just stay awake a little longer; what if all this disappears when you wake up? What if you’re alone and never see any of them again?
Satoru can not go to bed, but he can rest his eyes. He can close them, and wait until someone has something to tell him.
Satoru can not go to bed.
“Satoru!” Suguru groans, tapping Satoru’s shoulder again and again. Satoru jolts, his mind thick with fatigue.
“What?!” He yells, his eyelashes stuck together. Had he fallen asleep?
“Did you see where everyone went?” Suguru asks, his eyes panicky. Satoru sits up straighter, looking around. Where had Yaga, Nanami, and Haibara gone?
“Shit no,” Satoru grumbles. “I fell asleep.”
Suguru rubs his temple. “I guess I had too.”
Satoru glares over at him. “So because of you we don’t know where they are!”
Suguru snaps over to him. “What?”
Satoru points a finger at him accusingly. “You told me I could go to bed and that if they cross over you would tell me. Well look around Suguru, they’re gone and we're stuck here!”
Suguru’s lips curl up. “You think I wanted to be stuck here?! I didn’t even feel tired when I was sitting around with them! I wasn’t even aware I went to sleep or anything of the sorts!”
“Well you did, and you fucked us both up as usual!” Satoru snarls. His head is aching and he feels like screaming at everything and everyone. But his heart, oh his heart, it aches in another way, a feeling close to sorrow, even though Satoru is begging to be angry.
“Satoru-”
“Suguru,” Satoru says, his eyes threatening to spill tears he hadn’t known were there. Was the after life supposed to make someone ten times more emotional? “Can you please, just tell me why. Why have you done everything you did? Every detail, so I don't have to guess and fill in the blanks? If I can’t cross over, at least get me close enough to peace.”
Suguru stares at him and lays his head back. When his head comes back into the correct view and is set up he gives Satoru a nod.
“I did it all for you, Satoru.”
And Satoru’s heart, whatever's left of a dead person's heart, shatters into a million pieces. He did it for him? Changed his morals, his view on life for him? On purpose? Everything? No accidents? No mischievous plan? He did it for Satoru?
“I can’t really tell you everything, it’s too much of my own feelings in the time of need, but I can tell you for certainty, I did it because I didn’t want you to be the strongest in this world anymore,” Suguru’s eyes flick back and forth between Satorus.
“For me?” Satoru rasps.
Suguru nods. “Maybe it was selfish of me, but I was hell sent on thinking I was doing the right thing. And god Satoru, I missed you too. You think I didn't? I thought of you every fucking day, but I had made my choice, hadn’t I? I had chosen to leave. Chosen to become this. And you were not able to follow.”
Satoru blinks back the tears that are still in his eyes. Suguru’s disclosure was quick, not even full of a lot of details, but it was all Satoru had needed. He had waited 10 years for this, and he had got it at his end, but he got it nonetheless.
“Thank you.” Satoru tells him. He doesn’t know what else to say.
“And I’m sorry for fucking up today-”
“Don’t apologize. I’m just angry, and I took it out on you for no reason.”
“But it is my fault Satoru-”
“Stop-”
“No, I’m sorry.” Suguru tells him, his eyes pleading for Satoru to accept his apology. Satoru nods.
“I forgive you.”
Suguru nods and Satoru turns away. Neither of them speak, and there's no noise indicating that someone else is in the airport with them. Satoru guesses that the other three really did cross over and pass away fully, leaving Satoru and Suguru together.
Satoru isn’t sure if he wants to be here or not. There’s something new-or maybe old feelings entirely resurfaced- between Suguru and him now that Satoru knows a little bit more on why he left him. There's going to be plenty more time for the two of them to talk, so Satoru does not feel the need to push the conversation further.
Satoru stares out the window for what feels like forever, before he feels tired again. It’s a normal yet odd feeling, like a cold breeze that leaves goosebumps on your arms when you’re sitting in a room with no windows or fans.
Satoru yawns, like really yawns, no boredom or mocking manner to it, just a pure tired reaction from what feels like ages of no sleeping. Suguru glances over to him, eyeing him, but keeping his mouth shut.
Satoru knows he wants to tell him it's okay to go to bed, but he feels like if he does he’s going to lose the last person that is still with him. How is he supposed to make him stay?
Satoru bellows out another yawn, this one springing slight tears to his eyes. He blinks them away, allowing for one to fall carelessly down his cheek.
“I know you probably don’t want to go to sleep Satoru, but I hope you know I’m right here.” Suguru whispers, his voice gentle and promising.
“Yeah, but how do I know you won’t leave me?” Satoru asks before being able to stop himself.
Suguru turns his head completely, cupping Satoru’s chin into his hand. Blue eyes meet purple eyes, an understanding and promise passing between the two irises.
“You can stay right next to me, as close as you want, and I promise, with every fiber in me, that I will not leave you.”
Satoru stares at the man who’s made this promise to him before. He reads into every line, repeats the message in his head fifty times over. I will not leave you. I will not leave you. I will not leave you. And yet he’s left him after saying this. Satoru’s seen this movie before, and was the main actor who was left alone. But Satoru’s always been weak for Suguru, caving at every promise even after promising himself he wouldn’t.
Satoru’s always loved Suguru, even without admitting it to the other party.
So why would he stop now?
Satoru swears to the God that didn’t let him cross over that he doesn’t know how he ends up in Suguru’s arms, but nonetheless he finds himself the most protected and comfortable right there. Being held by the only person he’s loved like this. Being held by the person who has caused him the most pain. Being held by Suguru. More than his best friend, and even more than a lover.
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Satoru’s eyes burn when he opens them. They are greeted by light; too much light. Satoru feels odd, arms still around him. Since when was the airport this comfortable?
Satoru rests his head back and rubs his eyes. A ceiling fan is twirling around, clicking whenever it makes a full circle. It reminds him of Suguru’s old dorm room, his fan had always clicked whenever it made its-
Wait.
Satoru snaps himself up, blinking and willing his eye to adjust to the brightness and movement. Unfortunately, Satoru’s eyes had never been on his side even when he was a child, so why would they be on his side now?
He feels a body stir from the side of him, just making out dark locks cascading over the bed and the person-Suguru’s shoulders.
Wait a bed?
Satoru turns to face behind himself, catching sight of pillows. The same pillows that Suguru had had in his dorm room when they were in high school.
Satoru grimaces as he moves his eyes back over to figure out the rest of his surroundings. The place reeks like familiar cursed energy, everything feeling all too familiar yet all too out of place.
Satoru looks down at his hands, they seem younger, a little too much younger. He flips the covers off of himself, accidentally moving them off of Suguru too. And Suguru, oh fuck he’s in their school uniform, and oh fuck Satoru is too.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
What the fuck? What the fuck?
Satoru jumps out of the bed, his mind flaring. His eyes feel like they are on fire, and his head hurts soooo bad, but he has to find out where he is.
“Satoru?” He hears Suguru call, groggily.
No, no, no, no.
Satoru stumbles over to the door in the bedroom, Suguru’s bedroom. Or his old bedroom, or who knows?
Satoru grips the side of the door pushing himself off of it and walks out. The hallways are hauntingly familiar, somewhere Satoru knows all too well.
Why is he here, why is he here, why is he here?
Satoru’s feet slam heavily on the floor as he runs down the hallway. His eyes sting and his head feels like it’s going to explode. He can’t see straight, but he doesn’t have to. He’s walked these halls for too long, knows them inside and out, but why is he here?
Satoru’s supposed to be dead.
Satoru stumbles outside, infinity flaring up around him for no reason. The world gets cut off, dead to him, but Satoru, oh Satoru, he is so alive.
Why is he alive?
Satoru’s heart hammers in his chest, climbing its way to his throat.
Why is he alive?
This was supposed to be Satoru’s escape, he was supposed to be free. He wasn’t supposed to be like this anymore. No. No. No. He was supposed to be dead, allowing for everyone else to rely on each other; not him. Satoru was supposed to rest, he gave up his life, and he was going to be free.
Satoru had seen it, right there. Freedom teasing him, grasped on his finger tips. He was supposed to be free. He was free. That airport was his freedom.
He should not be alive.
Why is he alive?
Satoru’s chest shudders again, his lips quivering.
Satoru was free. He wasn’t the strongest anymore; why is he back here? What did Satoru do in his lifetime to be played like a joke? To be forced to come back here and live again when he so desperately had wanted to be dead?
Satoru’s unaware of when he lets out the first sob, but the next few wrack his entire body, and he’s crying on the grass courtyard, head to the ceiling and then meeting the ground.
Satoru digs his hands into the grass, prying at it until it comes clean of the green stuff and is replaced with the brown dirt.
Why was Satoru alive? No. NO. NO. NO. He died, he’s dead, what is this joke?
He’s dreaming, please, he’s dreaming. Lord, please tell him he’s dreaming.
Satoru pinches himself repeatedly, waiting for his eyes to open after each blink and he’s away from here, back in Suguru’s arm, back in the airport.
He feels sick when he’s met with the realization that he is not dreaming. He feels even more sick as his chest compulses again and a yell shrieks out of him.
How is he not dead?
Why is he not dead?
He’s supposed to be dead, he wants to be dead. He doesn’t want to be the strongest anymore, he’s done. 30 was too soon, but also too much. Kill him, please. Whoever brought him back, take him away!
“Gojo, what the fuck are you okay?” A voice says, drawing closer. Whoever it is stops when their hand meets infinity.
Satoru doesn’t care who it is, he just doesn’t want to be here. Let him go, please. Let him go. Let him go. Let him go.
Satoru draws his hands to his hair, tugging and pulling at all the strands. He has to be real, he’s not dead. He can feel the pain that each tug brings, he can feel the way he doesn’t feel real, he knows what’s happening, let him go. Let him die, please, please, please.
“Gojo, you’re scaring me, I’m gonna go get Yaga or Geto.” The voice from before says. It’s a girl's voice, oddly familiar, but a little too laced with worry. “Yaga! Geto!” The screams ring throughout Gojo’s head bouncing back and forth against imaginary walls.
His eyes sting even more than before and his head feels like a ton of bricks landed on it.
Just get him out of here, please, please, please.
Satoru lays his face down on the ground, his whole body aching.
Why is he alive?
He’s supposed to be dead.
What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to live? What is he supposed to live for?
“Satoru, hey, hey, it’s me,” Suguru cooes, his energy close by. “I-I dunno what’s up with us being here either, but you have to put infinity down for us to talk about it.”
His voice sounds distant despite their close proximity, but it’s mainly because Satoru’s ears sound clogged. He feels like he’s underwater, drowning in the fact that he’s stuck here.
“Satoru please, I’m scared too and we don’t have much time before Shoko comes back and I-I don’t know if she knows why we’re here either,” Suguru’s voice is pleading.
God Satoru’s head fucking hurts.
“Satoru, please, I don’t know how to handle this, I’m trying to be strong for us, we need to talk.”
Satoru isn’t aware when infinity drops-when did he even get it back- but he is aware that hands and arms caress him and he is crying into someone's chest.
He should be dead. He should be dead. He should be dead. He should be dead.
“Satoru breathe,”
He should be dead. He should be dead. He should be dead.
“Satoru, it’s okay please,”
He should be dead.