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“Yo, Satoru.”
Suguru stared at the gravestone, all opulent and grand in a way that the Gojo Head deserved. It was solid granite, dark grey that almost looked black, the name carved fresh into the stone.
Satoru would have hated it.
Satoru loved spending money, loved being wealthy, loved to buy whatever he wanted, and used the measurement of if it was a brand name, it would barely match his standards. But he would have hated how wasteful it was. How over the top the grave was and how it stood out in the graveyard. He spotted Yaga’s and Nanami’s graves just a while away, most of the graves in the area freshly dug, the dirt visibly disturbed.
In all honesty, Satoru should have been buried in his clan’s cemetery, surrounded by previous heads and influential people of his clan. Still, he was in the common ground for the dead sorcerers who could never rise higher than their station. That, at least, was something Satoru would have wanted. Surrounded by people he knew, not long-dead ancestors that Satoru would have hated.
Suguru looked at the flowers in his hands and put them on the ground before his best friend's grave. Suguru stared at the headstone, and his hands couldn’t stop shaking.
It didn’t feel real.
Suguru knew how it felt to think that his best friend and only love was dead. That day, when Toji told him that Satoru was dead, he felt his soul shrivel up and die. At that time, he could only fight and bring his mind off the prospect that Satoru met his end at the hands of Toji. He couldn’t take the time to think of what it felt like to have half of his soul ripped away from him. When Toji left him all but dead, he used the goal of retrieving Riko’s body to get rid of the thoughts of Satoru’s death, studiously ignoring the large blood splatters and puddles on Jujutsu Tech’s ground. Suguru would have broken down if he thought of it for long, so he didn’t.
Luckily, Satoru survived and killed Toji, becoming stronger than ever, so Suguru never had to think Satoru was dead. His best friend killed, like a dog in the street.
Suguru didn’t think he had the opportunity to be lucky this time.
Suguru managed to get free of Kenjaku’s influence while he was fighting Takaba, a man Suguru would think he would have taken the time to get to know better if it wasn’t for the circumstances he was in. With Takaba weakening Kenjaku in his reality-warping powers, Suguru managed to get the reins of his body.
Suguru took control of his body, pushing away from Kenjaku’s influence.
Suguru would have loved to say that he was waiting for the opportunity to get free, but he was barely aware of his body, barely holding on and could only see glimpses of the outside world. The only thing that managed to get through to him was bloodied images of white hair and blue eyes, strong enough to shock his mind into working.
Suguru didn’t believe it, holding out hope that Satoru was just heavily injured. His best friend was the strongest; no one was as strong as Satoru, and Suguru never doubted that.
The sky was blue.
The sun was yellow, and the grass was green.
Satoru Gojo was the strongest.
Those were the constants in his life, and he wouldn’t believe they weren’t true. If there was one thing he knew, was that if anything happened to anyone, Satoru would survive and thrive. That he couldn’t lose.
Suguru managed to convince Yuuta, his previous enemy and target, that it was him, Suguru Geto. Suguru told him Yuuta could do anything to him later, that now it wasn’t important. Suguru rushed to the Shinjuku battle, helping out Satoru’s students and their allies. Suguru honestly couldn’t care less, but Satoru would have wanted him to help, and Suguru figured it was time he put everything else aside and help with the shared enemy.
He managed to help Higuruma and Yuji with hitting Sukuna with the executioner's sword, and immediately after(despite being heavily injured, Sukuna wasn’t one to be trifled lightly) went searching through the rubble of the ruined city. Searching through the ruined city and seeing what Sukuna and Satoru did to it would have been awe-inspiring if Suguru wasn’t halfway to a panic attack.
While the other sorcerers were celebrating their victory, that they finally could relax after the turbulent times they survived, Suguru pulled and pushed stone after stone until his hands were bloody, searching for his best friend. Shoko tried to stop him, but Suguru would not rest until he found his one and only.
It was dark when he found him; only the moon and stars were his companions when he found the man Suguru yearned for his entire life. Everyone else could only hear his shattered wails when he discovered the halves of the man he loved. He screamed brokenly into the sky, his throat ripped by the force of his cry. He felt like he was being pulled apart, and not even Kenjaku’s chuckles in the back of his mind could bring him out of his grief.
He couldn’t stand looking at Satoru’s deathly pale face, blood escaping his mouth in dark rivulets and white hair astray, his beautiful vibrant eyes dead when they used to hold the universe in every movement. When Suguru looked into Satoru’s eyes, all he could see were the rotten and stagnant waters of something that used to be an ocean. Suguru hated it, but he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away from the man he loved more than anything in the world.
He didn’t cry.
Even as his chest was pounding with the force of a thousand nuclear bombs, his lungs struggling to breathe. He didn’t cry. Not a singular tear escaped his eyes. He could cry on command, but when it was the one time to cry, he couldn’t do it. It was as if he wasn’t capable of it.
Suguru didn’t know how long he looked over Satoru’s dead body. When he finally got his mental facilities back, he summoned a curse and lay Satoru’s body on it, trying his best to realign the body parts but only making it more apparent that Satoru was gone. Suguru almost broke down again when his large intestine almost fell out of his stomach. Suguru grew cold, head clear, as a survival measure. It had been a long time since anything managed to send him into shock, but this sent him straight into shock faster than anything.
He returned to Shoko(and the students, but he wasn’t in the mind space to recognize them. He was searching for his old best friend and the one person who wouldn’t turn him away.), and Shoko must have realized who he was carrying by his face.
The curse user backed away when the students started to cry at the sight of their teacher, dead when they had faith he would have survived. It tore him apart to part from Satoru again, but he didn’t feel like he was welcome near Satoru and their mourning.
The only reason he didn’t leave was Shoko found him in the ruins, just sitting blank-eyed at the sky, too tired to leave, but too wired to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Satoru’s dead eyes stared back at him, mocking him for not returning faster. Suguru couldn’t help but think if Suguru had been here, he could have helped in the fight. Suguru knew he was out of his weight class, but he could have done something.
He was in shock, his body trembling and hot and cold flashes frequent. He couldn't even care that he was close to ending it there to save himself the effort of not moving again when Shoko arrived.
Suguru wanted to say something, even a hello to his old friend he hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with in years, but the want evaporated from his system the moment he realized Satoru’s blood was still on his hands. When he found Satoru, his blood was on the way to drying, but there was still some blood that was wet when he picked his love from the ruined ground.
Everything, his hopes and dreams, even his mind, withered at the realization Satoru wasn’t there. He never realized how much of his world was in Satoru’s hands until he died. He didn’t even have his daughters, killed by the very man that killed Satoru. At least their passing was avenged with the help of his actions, but Suguru couldn’t feel anything at the knowledge.
He just felt empty.
Shoko put a blanket over his shoulders, not a word spoken between the two of them. Shoko could have said anything, asking how he was alive and why he was here, but at that moment, nothing mattered. They were mourning their third, who was always there, but the one time he wasn’t, everything felt wrong.
It felt like gravity flipped and the world tilted on its axis. Nothing felt real.
Suguru didn’t go to the funeral. The best he could do was watch the procession of the remainder of the jujutsu world pay their respects to the greatest sorcerer of their time, saying empty words that Satoru would have mocked them for. His students were the only ones Suguru didn’t mock in his head, deserving to speak their respects to the man who saved most of them. Megumi was there, still dealing with the aftereffects of Sukuna’s possession, the executioner's sword having killed Sukuna and his soul, and leaving Megumi unharmed. From what Suguru saw, Megumi was dealing with his sister's death and the guilt of everything that happened when Sukuna had control. Suguru made an effort to not talk to Satoru’s students, but from what he heard from Shoko, Megumi didn’t take Gojo’s passing well.
Satoru was the one person he could consider his father figure, the one person who was always there. Megumi didn’t lose a teacher, he lost the last of his family, and Suguru was ashamed to know yet another family was turned apart in this fucking world. His hate for everything reached new heights, and it took everything he had not to cause yet another tragedy. He only didn’t because the numbness always returned when the hate simmered down.
Everything was returning to what it once was, but so many of their worlds were shattered, and Suguru was one of them. He had nothing. He only had Shoko, but that wasn’t enough for Suguru to hope for anything. The world lost its last luster, and not even seeing Shoko now and then could make it different.
He was like a ghost, drifting through Japan like a wraith looking for a lost lover, lost in the waters of death. Every day, Suguru hoped that it was a joke, that Satoru would appear like everything was normal and annoy the hell out of him, but love him for the same reason.
Even the people who wanted to kill him for his past crimes realized there was no use. All Suguru did when they found him was stare at them with dead eyes, the eyes of a man who didn’t care about where they ended up. Suguru Geto, the Wickedest Curse User, was dead. He died the moment he found his dead best friend in rubble like he wasn’t worth anything.
To be fair, Shoko tried to get him to live again, nagging him to eat and sleep more since his eye bags were bigger than hers, but all Suguru did was ignore her. Suguru knew he was being hurtful by how Shoko looked slightly hurt whenever he pushed her off, but he literally could barely care. If it was anyone else, he would have felt nothing. It just felt like everything was worthless.
Suguru avoided Satoru’s grave like the plague but found himself in front of the cold stone one cold day. Suguru didn’t have a coat, and his monk clothes getting worn down; his gojo-gesa was the only article of clothing in good condition. He wore green gold clothing because it always reminded him of the love he left behind as if he had a part of Satoru with him wherever he went.
He stared at the gravestone, reading what he read. This was the first time he was a hundred meters near the site, unable to bring himself to the liminal space that was a graveyard. He had been to many in years since sites of such mourning were common to create Curse Spirits, but he never felt revulsion as strong as this. To know Satoru was under this dirt was enough for Suguru to feel like running away and to never return.
Satoru Gojo, Born December 7th, 1989, DOD December 24th, 2018.
A man who saved as much as he protected. Forever missed.
Suguru read the memorial sentence and felt mollified, knowing Shoko and his students had their hands in the message. If it was something about his strength, Suguru would have destroyed it, even if it was Satoru’s grave.
Suguru may have said a lot when he left Satoru on that Shinjuku street, but he forever regretted telling Satoru if he had his strength, he could have achieved his goals. Suguru knew better than anyone that Satoru’s strength was forever a curse. Satoru would have preferred not having power if it meant saving everyone. Suguru knew that the best, but his words never told Satoru that. He betrayed Satoru’s trust, and this is what was left for him.
“It’s been a while since we last talked, Satoru. I… missed you.”
His eyes started to water, the first time since he came back into his body. It was just too much for him. He tried to avoid thinking about everything, but in front of Satoru’s grave, he couldn’t help but think.
“I know, I know. I should stop talking like a sap, but you aren’t here to tell me off, are you?”
Suguru sighed heavily and walked closer to the grave as if it was Satoru he was approaching and not an inanimate stone. There were many things he regretted having said, but there was nothing he regretted as much as not saying something. Satoru knew what Suguru thought of him, and Suguru never knew if Satoru felt the same. It is his life’s greatest regret, and his heart ached at the thought of Satoru never hearing it.
“I love you.”
Suguru sucked in a breath, breath stuttering in his throat. He dropped to a knee and repeated it, more to himself.
“I love you.”
Suguru bowed his head, and a tear slowly dripped down his face. It met the cold ground and left a dark spot, and Suguru chuckled at the thought of the tear reaching the body below. Suguru chuckled sadly, eyes fully streaming with tears. It hurt. It hurt.
It hurt how Satoru couldn’t hear his confession when Suguru had wanted to say it for thirteen years. This should have been a memorable day when Suguru finally worked up the courage to confess his feelings, but now it was just a cold day underneath somber skies as if deciding between snow and rain.
Now, the only ones to hear were the cold wind and the unmerciful skies.
“I love you so much I can’t sleep at night. I love you so much that my heart does not beat when you are not near. I love you so much, I see you in my dreams, smiling at me to say I am here. I have loved you for so long, and you aren’t here!”
Suguru shuddered, emotions anything but the numbness he felt before. It hurt even more than the numbness since the child that was kept at bay by his chilled emotions surged through him. He hated feeling weak, but he felt like a weak child in front of the grave of the one he loved. Suguru loved Satoru.
Suguru loved Satoru so much that he felt empty without him. Suguru felt alive when he knew Satoru so much as existed. Suguru’s only reassurance when he was a criminal who could never return was that Satoru was there, and that was all he needed. Suguru may die, but Satoru would be there to carry on the age, no matter how much Suguru hated to leave him with that weight. Suguru knew he was strong, that he was strong enough to go on if Suguru died. But Suguru wasn’t like that. He always knew he would never be able to go on if Satoru was killed. His very existence brought Suguru enough love and care to live on.
With Satoru gone, Suguru fell apart like a tower without a solid foundation.
Suguru didn’t know what to do with himself. It would be oh-so-easy to bring up another organization to gather curses and continue the goal of killing all non-sorcerers, but Suguru couldn’t give a damn. He started his crusade to save Sorcerers so that another young sorcerer never had to die.
That Satoru didn’t have to carry the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
But now Satoru was fucking dead, so it was useless.
Suguru didn’t care anymore. No more righteousness, no more ideals. No more scuttling in the dark, living like a hunted man by the very person he loved.
What was the use of goals and ideals when the man he would do anything no longer existed in this plane?
Suguru took another steadying breath, eyes bloodshot with veins and unshed tears.
“I’m sorry for never telling you. I thought it was impossible to ever have you in a way that was anything but friends. I should have known even if you turned me down, I would have had my answers. But now…”
Suguru breathed and looked into the sky, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Maybe you know this already, but your students are fine. Your new first years are damaged and broken, but with each other, even I can see they will be fine eventually. Especially Megumi, even though it will take years for him. Kugisaki seems okay, but I can’t say I ever met her.”
Suguru moved on, ignoring the issue. As he said, Suguru didn’t make an effort to know Satoru’s students, since he would think that Satoru should have been there instead, but he did know some, mostly through Shoko when she checks up on him, even though he makes it difficult on her to try and find him.
“The Second Years are doing fine even though Inumaki lost an arm. You’d like to hear that Okkutsu has stepped up as the last Special Grade and made it his mission to revamp the system. You would like that.”
Suguru fell silent, looking at the grave. He moved closer and then turned, sliding down the side of the gravestone. He leaned his head back, trying and failing to lean on it like he would do with Satoru back in the day. He remembered the days when they fell asleep at each other’s side with an amount of envy that wasn’t remotely healthy. He would do anything to feel Satoru’s warmth next to him again.
He looked at the sky again, head against the cold stone. He whispered into the sky, whispering as if sharing a secret with Satoru.
“I don’t belong in this world.”
Suguru has come to realize this more and more when he realizes the world is moving and Suguru is stuck in the past. He couldn’t move forward, only back. The only time he realized the dates changed was when Shoko showed up with yet another care package he wouldn’t eat. He drifts through the streets and does not register anything until it’s literally shoved in his face. He was mugged who knows how long ago, a mugger trying to threaten him for money, and Suguru only stood there with a blank look. The mugger stabbed him, and Suguru only realized he was bleeding when he looked down and saw the blood already congealing, not even feeling the pain.
He was an empty shell that ran on the faintest spark of cursed energy since if Suguru was an average human, he would have died… Suguru doesn’t know how long ago because he honestly could give less of a shit.
This was the first time he spoke out loud in weeks since even Shoko failed to get him to say more than a few words. He went mute because he had no reason to speak to anyone that wasn’t Satoru.
Suguru thought he could get no lower than when he was Jujutsu Tech and struggling to find his reason, but he was wrong. He hit his low, and that was now. At least back then, he still had Satoru, still had Satory to speak to, to share sweets and gossip with. Still had someone by him that would never turn him away. And now he was gone.
He couldn’t do it anymore. His body was failing, and his blood was cold. His death was laughing him in the face, and Suguru would do nothing but allow it to take him. He had nothing here. Shoko would be sad, but she lived through his death once before, she could do it again.
If anything, his death would be good news. He wouldn’t be in the way of Satoru’s students' future, and the Jujutsu World would have one less Curse User.
Suguru touched the cold gravestone with an equally chilled hand. It was a mockery of the touches he and Satoru once shared, but it was the only thing he had.
Suguru smiled with-not content, something sadder than that, but it was the closest thing to fulfillment he had. It was the first smile he made since he woke up in a body that had a scar on its forehead.
“Hey, Satoru.”
Satoru felt his lungs start to take in less air, but Suguru still spoke.
“I may not have a place here, but I want to know your answer, so how about I come to you? It’s selfish, I know, but can’t I be a little selfish now and then?”
Suguru’s hand fell slightly to hit the dirt, and Suguru smiled wider, a little light coming to his mostly empty eyes.
“I miss you. I want to see you. I’ll even allow you… to braid my hair… like the old days.”
Suguru’s closed his eyes, feeling his body start to shut down. It felt peaceful. Death was peaceful when everything else in his life wasn’t. He hoped it was like this for Satoru. To go without pain.
“I love you… Satoru. I’ll see you… again…soon.”
Suguru’s head fell, darkness taking him, but he smiled with all his heart, the one thing he never thought he would do again.
Shoko was carrying a bouquet, Megumi, Yuji, and Noabara at her sides. Yuuta was also with them, wanting to visit his teacher's grave. Apparently, he wanted to tell Satoru all about what was happening in the Higher-Up circles. Shoko nodded, the somber atmosphere, only broken up by quiet words between the younger students. Shoko worried about Megumi the most, considering he lost just about everyone in his life, but knew anything took time. She would leave the kids to right themselves and pull themselves on the right track.
“Geto?”
Shoko snapped her head up, and the kids grew serious at Yuuta’s words. They didn’t know what to make of Satoru’s old best friend and secret love. Suguru never made an effort to get to know them, to in his own world to care for anyone, but Shoko knew he at least knew of them. Shoko knew trying to get Suguru to do anything he didn’t want to was like doing the same to Satoru; they would hate it and do the opposite out of spite. The two were similar to that.
Shoko looked at where Yuuta was staring, and her breath caught in her throat. She saw Suguru leaning against Satoru’s grave, head bowed and limbs hanging awkwardly at his side. Yuuta was the one most guarded, considering their history, but Shoko knew it was useless.
She hadn’t seen her old friend in a while, hard to find when he didn’t want to be found. Shoko also knew Suguru wasn’t himself. She and a few others were close enough to hear Suguru's cries when he found Satoru, and it was Shoko who told everyone to stay away and that Suguru needed space. Suguru was the first one she thought of when Satoru died, grateful that Suguru wasn’t there to see, but that wish soon turned to horror to see Suguru again, alive. Shoko would have been grateful to see another friend she thought died return, but she knew if Suguru returned now, she would never get him back. Satoru was his world, and with him gone, Suguru wouldn’t want to return. She was correct in how Suguru never returned to them, unable to stomach the thought of Satoru’s death.
She knew the Suguru she knew, even the one she met when he declared war on them, would never reappear in front of her eyes.
Shoko ran to the grave of her friend, looking at Suguru. The kids followed her, but Shoko could only bite her lip at the smile on her friend's face. It was one full of relief and happiness. It made the eye bags on his face lessen and all but disappear, his face clearing any exhaustion and emptiness.
When Shoko touched his skin, it was cold. Suguru smiled while leaning on the grave of the one he loved, leaning on the grave of the one who loved him, but Suguru never knew that.
Shoko sighed, grief threatening to take over.
“Oh, Suguru.”
Suguru just smiled, and Shoko felt a tear escape her eye.
“You idiot.”