Chapter Text
-Gojo Satoru-
April 14th, 2018
(2:16 pm)
🎸
The fresh scent of sakura consumes the air as Satoru makes his way to the train station. Today he’s planning to meet his friends at a well-reviewed café which happens to be all the way in Shinjuku City. If it weren’t for Shoko’s nagging about how “worth it” it’ll be, he wouldn’t have agreed to go. He isn’t a big fan of leaving the familiarity of Osaka, let alone his apartment. Instead, he would rather engross himself in playing his guitar, writing new songs that will never be listened to by anyone but himself, or putting on one of the many TV shows he keeps procrastinating on watching.
After a long three hours on the train, he finally arrives at his destination. Satoru immediately realizes that he hasn’t been in Shinjuku City enough to know where anything is or where to go, including that he forgot his phone back at home.
Shit.
He knows that he could and should just ask someone for directions, but social anxiety overpowers that last hope. Satoru takes deep breaths in and out, trying to quell the raging panic bubbling up inside of him. People bump into him from the crowd in which he unknowingly planted his feet in; however, he barely even notices them.
As if a gift sent from the heavens above, Satoru spots the radiant yellow of a taxi—his ticket to getting to this café. He dashes towards it, earning himself some complaints from the people around him. He doesn’t think that he’s felt such relief in his entire life, and luckily for him, he got there before anyone else could take away the opportunity from him. Satoru opens the door to the taxi and hops in. It’s not until he’s settled in that he realizes just how out of breath he is.
“You okay back there?” the driver asks with concern.
“Yeah,” he takes a deep breath in. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Where to, kid?”
Where am I going again? Oh, right.
“To The Hana Café, sir.”
The taxi driver nods, starts the car, and the two of them fall into comfortable silence as they make their journey through the streets of Shinjuku. After eight minutes, however, the taxi driver decides to break the silence that Satoru found himself enjoying.
“What are your plans in Shinjuku? I mean, I can tell you’re not a local,” he questions.
“Uh, just hanging out with some friends today. Nothing too exciting.”
“Cool. Where ya from?”
“Osaka,” Satoru answers while turning his head to peek out the window. Man, this conversation—if you can call it that, is beginning to really sound like an interview.
“I think I have some relatives who live there,” the driver takes a moment to pause. “Have you heard of that one band from Osaka? If my memory serves me right, they’re called Limitless. They’ve been gaining some traction lately. My daughter loves them.”
“I haven’t,” Satoru muttered.
A few moments later, the taxi finally arrives at the café and Satoru pays the driver. The café is quite small compared to the pictures online, cramped between two designer boutiques.
Satoru walks in and immediately inhales the overwhelming yet calming aroma of coffee and pastries. Then, he finds himself focusing on the interior of the café. It’s a blend of traditional and modern architecture, lit with the warmest lighting that Satoru has ever seen, and decorated with a diverse variety of flowers.
“Satoru, over here!” A familiar voice shouts from the other side of the café.
Satoru follows the voice to his best abilities, finally spotting Shoko, Utahime, and Kento huddled around a wooden table in the far corner. Of course, it’s surrounded by more flowers.
“Hey!” Satoru cheerfully greets his friends, pulling out one of the matching wooden chairs for himself to sit down. “What’s up?”
Kento looks up from his phone and says, “Nothing, except for the fact that you’re twenty-five minutes late,” with a harsh and agitated tone. Satoru is always late somehow; however, he should at least get the benefit of the doubt this time.
“Not my fault I forgot my phone,” Satoru raises his hands in defence as Kento rolls his eyes at Satoru’s stupidity. “Anyways, I’m going to go order something. Don’t miss me!” He announces as he gets up from the chair and makes his way to the food display case next to the cash register.
He notes that the selection of pastries and desserts is quite impressive for a small café. There’s a wide range of daifuku, melonpan, mochi, cheesecake, and some that even Satoru—the king of sweets himself—does not recognize. It’s hard for him to pick just one, so in classic Satoru style, he decides on a slice of cheesecake and every flavour of daifuku available.
He’s quite lucky to have as much money as he does, as his addiction to sweets would only send him to the streets of Osaka, all alone. His parents are famous movie stars who are known all across Japan, and they make a whole lot of money from it. Yet, Satoru found himself hating the fame and extravagant lifestyle that his parents' popularity brought him, so he secluded himself from it entirely.
He has the money to buy his own mansion, fancy car, and even support himself for life without working; but, he chose against it. As of now, Satoru lives in a studio apartment in Osaka, works at a vinyl record store, and attends university to earn his bachelor’s degree in music production. To him, it’s better than the loud lifestyle his parents promised him.
After ordering and obtaining his cheesecake and daifuku, Satoru walks over to the table and notices an alarmed look on Utahime’s face. She’s glaring at the window without her face turned towards it. What could possibly make her so shaken up? Oh well, it is Utahime after all. It’s probably something silly like her thinking she saw a clown outside juggling bananas.
It’s not until the white-haired man sits down that Utahime brings her attention away from the window and on to him instead.
“What’s with the face, Utahime?” Satoru questions.
“Look outside…” she responds with clear nervousness, pointing at the window.
Satoru obeys and takes a glance outside. He sees the apartment complexes across the street, cars driving by, and…
No, no way. Is that him? It can’t be, right?
He sees a familiar face with long, black hair and black gauges—a familiar face he wished that he would never see again. Yet, there he is.
“Why does he have to be here of all places?” Kento asks himself out loud. “Suguru never used to leave Osaka. What’s he up to?”
A firm and reassuring hand is placed on Satoru’s shoulder which brings him out of the trance he never knew he was in.
“It’s okay. We got you, Satoru,” Shoko whispers. His friends have always been there for him during his toughest moments, especially when Suguru and he had their falling out. He’s never been hurt so badly before. Never in his life.
Random, pointless conversations go on for hours and Satoru finds himself tuning it all out. It is as if seeing Suguru’s face for the first time in five whole years completely changed his mood for the rest of the day. It did. It truly did. It’s not until he hears his name being used that he finally tunes back into the conversation.
“Hm?” Satoru looks up, puzzled.
“I said that you should do something with your life. You’re always locked up in your apartment and only come out for school or to hang out with us. You know, there’s so much more to life than… Well, that,” Shoko explains.
“But, I just don’t know what to do. I mean, I play guitar. That should count as something, right?”
“Yeah, no. Start going to parties or find a boyfriend or something. I’m sure there’s a huge line of both guys and girls who would do anything to date you.”
“Hm, not my style. Eventually though,” Satoru lies. He never found there to be any point to dating. It never led to anywhere permanent for him. Just another futile thing to add to his futile life.
Looking down, he realizes that he still has some daifuku left which immediately brings up his mood. When stuffing one into his mouth, Satoru adds, “I mean, once I graduate from university, I’m planning on using my degree to its fullest. Maybe I’ll start releasing music and become some underground artist or join a band or something.”
“What if you actually make it big though? I know you don’t like all the fame from being your parents’ kid,” Shoko adds.
“I’ll just get a disguise.”
_______
A total of three hours go by before they all decide to take their leave, and everyone but Satoru and Kento have already left due to the taxi gods—if such a thing exists—favouring them. They don’t really engage in conversation as both of their social batteries have just about died, and Kento usually doesn’t have the patience to tolerate Satoru.
Satoru uses this as a chance to look around and really take in his surroundings for once. In the distance, he notices a lamppost with a multitude of posters almost covering it whole. Maybe it could be a substitute for scrolling on his forgotten-at-home phone.
He walks away from Kento and makes his way to the lamppost. Upon arrival, he studies each poster intently. There’s some advertising karaoke bars, festivals, and events; however, there’s one poster in particular that catches Satoru’s eyes.
Wait a minute—isn’t that the band that the taxi driver was talking about?
The poster seems freshly placed on the lamppost since it’s still in good condition. Satoru takes a closer look at the text displayed on the poster, and feels a rush of something close to excitement.
If they were looking for a guitarist, he would be perfect for the role. Furthermore, it would make Shoko proud to see him actually do something productive with his life other than attend school. Satoru rips off one of the information tabs from the poster and stuffs it in his pocket.
As if on cue, the taxi Kento ordered for the both of them arrives as soon as Satoru makes it back to their waiting spot. After getting in, Kento informs the driver on their intended destination, and places a wired earbud in one of his ears.
Although he doesn’t want to interrupt Kento’s music-listening time, Satoru just can’t seem to hold in his excitement which urges him to speak.
“Ken?”
“Yes?”
“Look what I found while waiting for the taxi!” Satoru chirps while digging the paper out of his pocket. After finally finding it, he passes it to his friend.
“What’s this?” The blond haired man asks with furrowed brows.
“I got it from some poster I found while we were waiting. It’s for auditions for a lead guitarist role in some band called Limitless,” Satoru explains while gleaming brighter than he ever has. “I’m going to audition and I’m one hundred percent sure I’ll get the part.”
“Isn’t that the band back in Osaka? Satoru, there’s going to be an astronomical amount of people who are probably going to audition for this. Do you know how popular they are getting? Everyone is speculating that they’ll be the next big thing. Good luck with that.”
“You know how good I am! I can so get the part. Watch me, Ken.”
“Whatever.”
The pair fall back into silence and Satoru tries his best not to fall asleep in the car. The sun shines warmly down on him through the windows, creating a hazy and golden light that engulfs the city, signaling to him that it’s late in the afternoon.
Despite all of the treats that he inhaled, Satoru still finds himself hungry for the supper he usually has at this time of day. Luckily for him, they finally arrive at the train station. Kento pays the driver and the two men split up.
The train ride back home makes it even harder for Satoru not to fall asleep. The time that it takes to get back home seems to take longer than it did to get to Shinjuku, and since he forgot his phone, any form of entertainment has abandoned him. All he has is staring at the scenery outside the window which only makes it harder for him to keep his eyes open. Thankfully, the train finally arrives back in Osaka, and Satoru can’t help but smile in relief.
Satoru walks out the train with determination to get back to the coziness of his apartment as fast as possible. When Satoru is desperate to get back home, he enters a trance-like state—almost as if he’s a robot, carrying out an important mission with its only goal to complete it. Since he’s back in Osaka, he’s happy to actually know where he’s going this time.
He dashes through crowds of people until he’s standing in front of the doors which lead into his apartment complex. Satoru opens the glass door as he contemplates what he’s going to do for the next couple of hours before he heads to bed. Lately, he’s been trying to get to bed earlier than he used to since his sleep schedule was, well, not the best.
The lobby of the apartment complex is lit with intense fluorescent lighting, encouraging Satoru to make his way to the elevators faster, quickening his pace. With irises lacking melanin, fluorescent lighting is one of Satoru’s worst enemies.
Immediately, an elevator opens up with a custodian inside who greets Satoru as he exits. Satoru smiles at the man and rushes in as if he were running away from someone, then presses the button for the fifth floor which leaves it the only button lit up. As the elevator makes its journey to his floor, Satoru can’t help but think about him.
Suguru.
_______
It was in his second year of high school when everything happened—when everything went wrong. Throughout their childhood, all the way into their teenage years, the pair remained close. It was as if a magnetic force kept them from spectating. Often, this led to many mistaking them for brothers. In a way, they were.
On a particular winter afternoon, however, Satoru began to notice Suguru acting aloof. Whenever Satoru would make any attempt to spark up a conversation with him, he would receive dry, uninterested responses, which were very unlike him.
The next day, Suguru never came up to Satoru to talk to him or hangout; instead, Satoru had to be the one to initiate any form of interaction. Satoru then noticed that Suguru would try to avoid him, walking in separate directions in the hallways of their school, or turn away when they made eye contact.
Satoru had tried to be a good friend and just let him be, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He felt as if Suguru didn’t care about him anymore and saw him as some zit that won’t go away, hence the avoidance. After a whole week of going through this hell, Satoru finally decided that the need to confront Suguru was past due.
Satoru, with his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest, gathered the courage to speak with Suguru and stop him in the hallway before he left for home. If it was a normal day, they would be getting ready to go to Satoru's house together to hangout.
“Suguru,” Satoru said, stopping Suguru in his tracks. His name sounded foreign on his tongue. “Can we talk? Please.”
Suguru, thankfully, turned his head in Satoru’s direction. “What is there to talk about?” he responded coldly, without the warmth he used to express to Satoru.
“I don’t know, Suguru. Maybe the fact that you’ve been avoiding me like the plague?” Satoru snapped back, walking up to Suguru. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Satoru laughed with frustration. “Suguru, you haven’t talked to me for days. I try to talk to you, but you just ignore me! Not to mention, as soon as you see me, you dart the other way. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t keep doing this… doing this without you,” he pleaded. “Please, Suguru. I just-,” Satoru sighed. “Come back, Suguru. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”
“What!?”
“You heard me, Satoru.”
“Why do you think that? Why do you want to throw seven whole years down the drain? Suguru, I thought we were best friends.”
“We were.”
“Then why-“
“Goodbye, Gojo Satoru.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t- I don’t deserve this!” Satoru shouted as the beginnings of tears formed in his eyes. However, Suguru didn’t stop. He just continued walking no matter how much Satoru protested. Satoru could’ve stopped him—that he knows; but, he just stood there, watching his best friend leave him behind for no apparent reason.
The following days were the worst. Satoru fell into a deep depression and would only leave his house for school. It’s not like his parents could tell him off anyway since they were filming a movie all the way in America where they were set to stay for two months.
Occasionally, his friends would come over to make sure he was eating and to give him company, but no matter who or what tried to help him, nothing could compare to how Suguru would make him feel better. Just one word from Suguru would brighten up his day; but now, he’s gone.
The cherry on top was Satoru’s feelings for Suguru. It just added salt to the wound—an unbearable sting which would keep him awake at night, never leaving his weakened heart and mind alone. Not only did he lose his best friend, but he lost the one person who ever saw him for who he truly was. The only person who treated him as another human being. No one could ever repair the hole which Suguru left in Satoru’s heart, as his heart dedicated every beat to him. Now, it may never beat again.
_______
The elevator dings and opens to Satoru’s floor, relieving him of thinking about his unfortunate past. About him. The walk to his door is short as it’s located just a few doors down from the elevator; however, Satoru darts towards it anyway, desperate to be back in his private space where he doesn’t have to see or talk to anyone. He prefers it this way.
Satoru pulls his keys from his pocket and immediately unlocks his door. Walking inside, he kicks off his shoes and marches over to his couch where he immediately dumps his body on it. He wants nothing more than to escape this cruel reality where Suguru still finds a way into his life.
“Oh, right!” he announces to his empty apartment, spotting his favourite guitar mounded to the wall amongst his extensive guitar collection.
The perfect way for him to escape is playing his guitar, getting lost in extreme focus and sound. Immediately, Satoru jumps off the couch, grabs his guitar, and grabs his binder where he keeps all of his favourite songs to play.
Sitting back down onto his couch, Satoru carefully places down his guitar up against the armrest and opens his binder. After a few flipping of pages, he finds the perfect song—Hotel California by Eagles. In a swift motion, he picks up his guitar and takes his pick from the strings. Satoru immediately comes to the conclusion that this song was going to be what he was going to play for his audition.
Satoru starts to play and lets himself go. Surely, he’ll get the part and win the audition.
There’s no way I won’t.