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It becomes non-stop missions after the death of Riko. Yaga informs him that the Higher Ups want to make use of him now that mortal necessities do not bring him down. He cannot be felled by hunger or exhaustion, because Cursed Energy sustains all his systems. He’s perfect, now, a model Sorcerer. Even better than he once was. An opportunity like him doesn’t come ‘round all that often, they need to get their money’s worth.
So they send him on mission after mission, no breaks in between. He doesn’t see Suguru anymore, nor Shoko, which is a real shame, because for the time he’d gotten to know them, they’d made him feel seen like he never has before. He misses them, and their classes together, and even their teacher, strict and frustrating as he could be.
He misses life. He misses knowing what his own blood looked like, if only because it allowed him to think himself human. For all he knows it’s gold now, like a deity’s. That’s essentially all he is at this point, a God.
Right now, Gojo is standing on the beach in Okinawa, the very same one he’d played with Riko on. He lets the sand between his toes, because it’s something real he can feel and he needs that right now. His vision blurs in the immediate, clearer the farther away he looks with his eyes. He’s not here for leisure, though, he’s here to exorcise a curse, one that he can feel wreaking havoc not a mile from where he is. The ground seems to shake with it, as though trying to convey the urgency of the situation to him. It won’t work, because he knows it’s urgent and doesn’t much care. Technically he is ahead of schedule, so if he wants to stand on a damn beach for a few moments then he’s going to.
He doesn’t really want to keep going anymore. He doesn’t want to die, not by a long shot, but he doesn’t want to continue, either. Everything is so taxing now, there’s not a moment of downtime and he’s just so fucking tired.
His exhaustion doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, because he’s just a cog at the end of the day. Cogs don’t have feelings. Machines don’t need rest.
He exorcises the curse. It takes one shot from Red, which now comes to his fingertips as easily as Infinity always has.
It doesn’t matter, either, that he finishes a mission which would’ve taken anyone else hours in under ten minutes. There are already three more waiting for him with the deadline of midnight, which is in a matter of three hours. They effectively expect him to finish one every hour. Not entirely unreasonable, he supposes, but not exactly easy. He should be able to do it, in their defense, if he’s now perfect. Unlimited Cursed Energy and a Technique that takes care of anything near instantly.
“Why can’t he just handle everything on his own?” Nanami had asked, after Naibara’s unfortunate demise. Suguru had said something half hearted to his defense, something that indicated he didn’t entirely believe what he was saying. Like he thought the same as Nanami but thought it wrong to say. Whether he knew Gojo was listening or not, Gojo doesn’t know. But it doesn’t matter, he heard all the same. If Suguru thinks he should take care of it then he will.
More than any curse, more than any mission, his confrontation with Suguru saps him dry. It hollows him out the way he’s only ever felt one other time, when Toji gutted him.
It’s hard for him because he was running on fumes before it, and he knew something was wrong with Suguru. He knew he looked wrong, that he was losing weight, that his eyes had lost their shine. He knew it, but he wasn’t around to help. It’s not like he saw the other boy in class anymore. What was he supposed to do from halfway across Japan?
Gojo does not kill him, even though he knows he is supposed to. He holds out his hand, fingers poised for Purple, but he can’t fire it. So Suguru turns away from him and leaves, and Gojo stands there with his nails digging into his palms.
Yaga asks him later if he did it, and Gojo doesn’t really answer. He asks a question of his own, and Yaga doesn’t really answer that either. Two peas in a pod, they are. Gojo doesn’t speak to him further, instead warping directly to his next mission. He stumbles as he lands, and releases Infinity in the face of the hulking curse before him.
He wants to hit something with his fists, feel something break or burst with his own hands. So he does. He pounds into the thing, slamming it into the ground, throwing it into the nearby abandoned building. He’ll say it put up a fight, though it absolutely does not. It’s no more than a doll, all but catatonic with what he does to it. Finally, imbuing his own fist with Cursed Energy, the thing explodes.
Gojo stands before the mess, covered in the sticky blood of the thing, as his chest heaves and his head swims.
There’s nothing in him, anymore. No blood, no guts, no nothing. He’s a shell, numb all over. He can’t even feel the viscera drying on his skin, because there’s nothing to feel. His limbs are tingling.
He stumbles over to a wall, bracing against it before doubling over and vomiting. Thick, warm tears slide down his cheeks from beneath his glasses, from the force of retching, maybe, or from the grief of losing Suguru the way he has, maybe, or from the exhaustion he feels, maybe. Who fucking knows.
Suguru dying, he was prepared for. Not completely, not in the sense that he was ready for it or anything, but he was prepared for the possibility. They may have been the Strongest, but dying in combat is basically an inevitability. As sure of himself as Gojo may be, he’d mostly come to accept the idea that he too would die on the field.
Perhaps he wasn’t far off, as the arm holding him up is only getting more and more shaky. With a grunt that’s half a whine, he falls, turning himself just in time to collapse on his ass, back against the wall. His whole body is tingling, like it’s asleep. It’s only been like this one other time, and he ended up laid out in the middle of a fight.
He makes a grab for his phone, fingers shaking. When the screen lights up he can barely read anything, his vision blurring too severely. He manages to locate Shoko’s contact, though, and types out a quick, barely intelligible plea for help.
He hopes he’s answered, because he isn’t going to stay conscious much longer. Yaga will know where he is, and hopefully he will bring Shoko. Perhaps this will get the Higher Ups off his back, but it’s not extraordinarily likely. If anything, this will make them harder on him.
Gojo doesn’t care. He understands his function, he understands that he is failed. He understands that he’s nothing more than a soldier, a machine, The Strongest. Satoru Gojo is not a person, it is a tool. He is only meant to be pointed in one direction or another and destroy whatever is over there.
And that’s ok. He can live with that.
Sitting there on the cold ground, stiff with curse innards and limp with numbness, he decides he will find Megumi, and he will protect him from this fate. He doesn’t know the kid, but he knows his Technique, and he knows what life lays at his feet should he go to the Zen’in Clan.
Gojo may be naught more than a machine, but the future sorcerors he has yet to know will not be.