⸨ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.

The churning of the walls, a living entity, a stomach lined with these hostile corpses tearing him apart... it was digesting him, processing him akin to a computer gnawing away at a massive piece of coding. He felt dissected, held in place by decaying arms, bruising grips digging into flesh, strangling him -- he choked, then stopped himself. It'd reset. He'd be okay in another second.

The resets were faster, almost a blink between, sometimes deaths overlapped each other, his head split in two as he tried to keep track of how many times he felt the creeping numbness of nothing crawl its way across his vision ---- he'd get stuck sometimes, suspended... between something, a pause? A second didn't exist anymore sometimes. Nothing did. No, nothing paused, he couldn't catch his breath as he felt plunged into an ocean of his own blood. A sputter, a row of spikes cleaving into his chest cavity. A crunch of bone, splintering when he heaved, and he was reset again with an ignition of flame. Enveloped, searing till the scent etched itself in his nostrils, burning flesh and a shout he thought he knew better by now to not make.

Stay alive, Satoru. I came back for you. You can't leave me behind, I won't let you.

He must've hallucinated again, but this time it sounded so real, felt real -- like a softer, not-boney hand was caressing him amongst the ravaging touches, not fearing the stain it'd hold once it pulled away. Those fingers... he knew that hand ---- Suguru's hand. Touching him, somehow, past the ---- where he was.

He ignored the deaths he suffered through, he ignored it, the pain causing nary a flinch as he focused in on that, eyes wild -- bright, piercing the darkness. Maybe if he focused, he could see past it ---- the headache of his newfound ability awakening in the wake of Toji's destruction... he remembered the unbound, undeterred sight, enhanced more than ever before -- he saw the atoms of the Earth, he saw the ebb and flow of energies swirling -- ... he saw, he could see the ---- fluorescent lights, the pale tile almost black with how hard it was to see, how outlined everything was -- inverted colors, misty and foggy, eyes just waking up after a long sleep.

Most importantly, he saw Suguru. He saw Suguru, on the bathroom, a haze in the dark, a daydream, the dark outline of his disheveled hair and the slanted -- ...counter? They were on the floor, from what pieces he could see against the black blotches, burnt into his eyes ---- searing, pained enough for him to tear up in the process. He could barely make it out, blurred, the Prison Realm's eye widened and wild ----- the box trembled in Suguru's hand until Satoru's focus could no longer hold. Then it ceased, stilling, eyes shutting tight simultaneously whilst Satoru reeled, a piercing headache splitting his skull. He snarled in the midst of his recoil, frustration not at all dampening his spirit. That merely got him more riled, more ready to crush this whole realm inward into the palm of his hand. Satoru reached out again, this time blind yet no less yearning, determined.

SUGURU, SUGURU, SUGURU -- I'M ALIVE, I'M COMING BACK TO YOU!

Suguru's words of reassurance struck the right chords, both girls immediately succumbing to the emotional pangs of relief and grief, fear and loss and reunion all working together to have them weep -- hands clutching, pulling into him. They couldn't give a shit on what happened to the rest of those people on B5F, the whole world could burn for all they cared. Kenjaku gave their Suguru back. At least, that was what they wanted to believe, because anything else meant they'd owe Gojo Satoru for reaching their father figure in a way their pleading presences couldn't.

Mimiko was the first to be able to spout something semi-coherent against Suguru's t-shirt, promising him that they were both much better now that he was back. It took some convincing to have the twins eventually disconnect, exhausted from emotion and the turmoil of the day, the adrenaline wearing off in favor of the familiarity of Suguru instructing them to not stay up so late. They obliged happily, in fact -- teary-eyed and agreeable, appeased by his return and ability to wish them a good night once more.

The first of many queries involved Suguru being asked if he felt Kenjaku still, or if he was truly freed. A worrisome endeavor to approach that in such idle conversation, but something that needed asking in case they had to deal with the repercussions of Kenjaku's wrathful return. That by no means overshadowed the fact that Suguru had now defied death quite outright. His corpse was given to Kenjaku, his corpse. How he was alive was not a matter of discussion; he was a walking miracle.

Suguru stood as further proof of their ideals, of their superiority to the regular humans that plagued the world with their unknown cruelty and Curses abound. Geto Suguru was by all rights a god now. He could not die, right? They'd stand by him all the more to usher in his new era. Whatever era he wished for, that is, they'd comply. Which left the very clear yet unspoken query that trumped even how Suguru defied Kenjaku to begin with, a very potent and distressing one considering the rampage of Sukuna still freshly burning the remnants of Shibuya. What do they do next?

But it was clear and evident that Suguru was tired. Exhausted. So the questions could come in waves another time. For now, the most important was did he need anything? When given a dismiss, they did not press -- Suguru knew what he needed best, after all. Loyal followers did what they did best -- they followed.

[ Ieiri Shōko, 12:39 AM ] geto??? is this really you? [ Ieiri Shōko is typing... ]

The dots indicating typing ceased, then a long pause, and...

[ Ieiri Shōko, 12:51 AM ] where are you?

Simple, to the point -- akin to how she met with him that day, a singular text sent to see what those charges she hoped had been false were all about. Little did she know... and yet, he hadn't hurt her. They needed to meet -- when she wasn't buried in bodies of injured or dead Sorcerers in the aftermath of Shibuya, that is.

[ Ieiri Shōko, 12:58 AM ] let's meet there again, give me 24 hours.

He wasn’t sure what was going on … if this was Satoru’s way of reaching out, or if there was something else going on inside of the prison realm currently.  How the hell had he never heard about such a powerful cursed object!?  It was frustrating how Kenjaku’s memories and knowledge base remained inaccessible to Suguru.  He didn’t want to think too deeply about what that meant —-- he didn’t want to consider that his thoughts might not always be his own, or that there could be someone else lingering behind the scenes now, waiting for their moment to overpower him again.

Fuck.  He needed to not be thinking about any of this —-- otherwise he’d end up spiraling and hit rock bottom before he could attempt to break Satoru free.

Suguru would reach out to him again soon.  Right now, the twins needed him.  His family needed him … and, most importantly, Suguru needed to know what the fuck he was walking into.

❝ I don’t know what to tell you, ❞  Suguru hastily replied to Larue, frustration evident in the way his brows furrowed.  He rubbed his fingers into his eyes, desperate to stave off any growing signs of exhaustion.  ❝ One second I was watching things unfold from some great beyond, and the next I was in Shibuya … fighting to return to this-—.. my body. ❞

❝ You don’t remember anything? ❞  Manami cut in, leaning forward in her chair as if to bridge the gap between them.  Suguru shook his head. 

❝ Kenjaku’s goals were so similar to yours, we —-- well, some of us, ❞ Manami’s gaze darted over to Larue, her eyes narrowing, ❝ were eager to follow him.  He wanted to make the world you envisioned a reality. ❞

❝ Careful, Manami, ❞  Larue warned, his jaw tensing as he studied her, ❝ —--it’s starting to sound like you’re disappointed the real Geto-san is back. ❞

❝ No, never! That’s not—-- ❞

❝ Please, let’s all just settle down a bit, ❞  Suguru interjected, wanting to nip this argument in the bud before his headache got any worse. ❝ I just want to understand what’s going on. ❞

Suguru was back on his feet in no time, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes before his mind was reeling again.  He reached across the coffee table for the television remote, switching back and forth between channels until he settled on a news station covering the events in Shibuya.

The devastation across the screen left them all shell-shocked.  Finally, the room was quiet.

❝ So —-- and please, interrupt me if I’m wrong about anything —-- Sukuna, the king of curses from the Haien era, is back, somehow.  Some special-grade cursed spirit aligned with Kenjaku fed his vessel —-- one of Gojo Satoru’s students —-- a bunch of his fingers while we were retreating, and then Sukuna took over his body? ❞

Larue and Manami both nodded.

❝ Well that’s just great.  And Sa–... Gojo, is sealed away in some other realm, unable to return? What do we know about the cursed object Kenjaku used to take him out of the equation? ❞

❝ He didn’t tell us much, ❞  Manami replied, her voice softening. ❝ Just that there’s a barrier inside that’s capable of sealing anything or anyone in some pocket dimension. ❞

Suguru’s fingers grazed the edges of the object in his sweatpants as he considered his options.  He needed to be careful, here —-- a lot had happened while he was gone, and it seemed like his family had been split in half; divided over how to proceed once that parasite took control over him.

He wasn’t quite sure who he could trust yet.

Suguru had stepped outside, desperate for a cigarette to help calm his nerves.  He wasn’t even back a full 4 hours before he was giving into one of his old, awful habits.  The twins would be disappointed, but surely smoking was a lesser evil than organizing a second act of Jujutsu terrorism, right? Sue him for needing a bit of a crutch in these trying times.

[ UNKNOWN NUMBER, 12:37 AM ]   Shoko, it’s Suguru.  Yes, I’m alive… somehow. It’s hard to explain, and I know this definitely isn’t a good time to be reaching out, all things considered. But I need your help.

He waited for her reply, flicking ash onto the concrete before taking another drag.  He watched as her messages rolled in, and considered telling her where he was … but ultimately thought better of it.  Not safe.  He was lucky she was entertaining his messages at all, really.

Luckily, she had come to the same conclusion —-- offering up a more public spot for them to catch up.

Was it safe to tell her he had the cursed object responsible for sealing Satoru? Perhaps not … not through a text message, at least.  Suguru was a wanted man; even messages from a burner phone could be tracked.

[ UNKNOWN NUMBER, 12:59 AM ]   Thank you. I’ll see you then.

In the middle of the night, while the rest of his family slept, Suguru made his way to one of the more private meeting locations he had shared with Satoru early on in his defection.  An akiya on the outskirts of Tokyo —-- once well maintained by the cult leader, only to be neglected alongside his declining mental health as the years went on.  

Suguru removed his tabi socks and geta  ( what remained of the gojo-kesa Kenjaku had been wearing in Shibuya; the pieces Suguru hadn’t tossed into the trash, at least )  before padding through the empty home barefoot.  From what he could remember, there had been a closet in one of the bedrooms housing spare clothing for both himself and Satoru. 

He could only hope that was still the case.

Upon inspection, the room they had once shared had remained untouched —-- a fine layer of dust had settled upon the bed and set of drawers occupying the room, but that was to be expected.  Suguru’s heart lurched into his throat as he thought about the memories they had created here —-- as beautiful as they were painful, now … all things considered.

How stupid, he had been.

Suguru sat upon the edge of the mattress and withdrew the cursed object from his pocket.  This was a much better place to try to reach out to Satoru again —--- to test the waters and see if he was actually capable of hearing him, and responding.

❝ Fuck you, dude. ❞ Satoru blurted that (fond, yet huffy) retort out, cutting off Suguru before he could get further into it -- calling him nosy? Yeah, he needed to get that word in before the topic moved along.

But he listened, most importantly, to the offered insight into Suguru's upbringing. He'd mentioned things in passing before, but most Sorcerers tended to avoid topics of their childhoods ---- Cursed Techniques typically awoke at a very young age, meaning childhoods were oft ruined or, in Satoru's case, nonexistent. Loss and death typically came along quick, too, with awakened techniques and powers drawing Curses near. Satoru knew both of Suguru's parents were alive, but maybe he lost... -- hm, maybe a girlfriend, a boyfriend? Apparently, as he listened, Suguru had gone through both ends of the spectrum, so ---- could've been either.

Satoru scrunched his nose a little at the thought, at a certain aspect of the thought that he didn't want to look further into, and he swallowed before testing the words against his tongue, a nervous swipe across his lips ---- he stared intently at the ceiling, the way particles lazily drifted through the air... the faded glint of light as it struck them in passing. Four hundred and thirty-two specks within the framing of the slightest trickled beam of light -- if he didn't move his eyes to observe elsewhere.

❝ Fooled around -- like, what, what's 'fooling around' entail, Suguru? ❞ Now he felt like he had some edge to this -- that telltale flush of color on Suguru's cheeks a drop of blood in shark-infested waters. He wanted to bite. He also wanted to look at him, so he peeked through his fingers ---- and peered over, turning his head slightly. They were both too lengthy in their height and lanky limbs to accommodate the weird positioning Satoru flopped himself into mid-game preparation, so the fact that Suguru copied him and was definitely not comfortable in his sprawl was already endearing. Endearing enough that an ache settled in the back of his throat, hurting when he swallowed again.

So he let spill the relent, the resignation almost, the bargaining side of his seemingly inescapable fate of clan responsibilities. And oh, Suguru seemed to radiate heat from his side, the way the air shifted with a subtle yet perceivable only to Satoru flare of power. Suguru himself may not realize his slip-up, it was a blip -- but a blip that Satoru had the radar to read for.

The touch to his forehead made his heart skip a beat, jarring him from that lapse of focus -- or rather that shift of focus, eyes distracting him. Fingers tracing away stray strands of hair, pushing it from his eyes as he watched with wonder and ---- an ache. His heart hurt, but almost not in a bad way. It just hurt. Like he wanted something he couldn't have. So maybe in a bad way.

Suguru's hand was warm atop his own, and part of Satoru's brain wished his hand wasn't there anymore -- so that Suguru could cup his cheek or something tender, like in the romance movies. Ah, his imagination was getting a little ahead of himself. At the mentions of friends becoming his true family, he scoffed a little -- not dismissive, not by any means, it was a nice sentiment... but it was high time he voiced what was already a well-known fact around Jujutsu High; he had no friends. Just Suguru.

❝ It's just you. ❞ He worried his bottom lip for a moment longer, then turned his head away, moving his hand and Suguru's own ---- but not without snagging those fingers, a half-hold, a loose curl of his digits to somewhat lock against Suguru's with the intent of keeping the connection. Yet he didn't want to just... hold his hand so suddenly. So once he lowered them away from his face, he tentatively dragged his further away, leaving Suguru's on the mattress near his shoulder. The prospect of declining his family entirely, abandoning them, was a difficult to near-impossible idea to grasp. This was ingrained into him, these responsibilities, this identity of his... he couldn't just walk away from it, as much as the books and movies and Suguru's ideal of rebellion wanted to convince him to believe. The world wasn't that simple, even when dumbed down.

But there was an alternative here that didn't involve him succumbing to imposed heterosexuality. And Satoru even let a sly smile grow across his expression again, gazing at Suguru with a rather pleased glint to his otherwise sad fucking doe eyes.

❝ ... Or, hear me out, ❞ He wanted to give Suguru a break from... looking like a discombobulated mannequin on his bed, so he pushed himself back upright, leaning his back against the wall that Suguru's bed was placed parallel to.

❝ I put them on some wild goose chase for my ideal wife and I keep getting distinct tastes for entirely different women to waste their time hunting for... and then -- boom! ❞

Satoru waved his arms out in a woosh, then wobbled and flopped to lean his forearm against Suguru's shoulder, draping some of his weight onto him whilst gesturing outwards dramatically with his free hand. ❝ I'm eighteen soon enough anyway, they name me clan-head ---- and I call it all off. Then I can do whatever -- and whoever I want anyways. Pretty good, huh!? ❞

Victorious. He was such a genius, a stupid absolute genius! Of course, in his little mental victory-lap, he forgot that he needed some kind of filter back in place before blurting out a beautifully stupid segue;

The young sorcerer had been more like … an eccentric, rebellious sort of kid who never felt like he belonged anywhere.  Instead, he had been conditioned to think that opening up about anything at all only led to misunderstandings and unnecessary heartache.  Suguru’s parents had thought his ability to see curses was some form of mental illness that left their ancestors gravely disappointed in what remained of the Geto family.  He wasn’t quite sure if he would ever open up to Satoru about that, though —-- what was the point of doing so?  What young sorcerer didn’t have a shitty upbringing?  His experiences didn’t make him special, in the grand scheme of things.  That much Suguru was sure of.

He had grown so accustomed to hiding his true feelings and sense of self from both his parents and friends, that he had sought out alternative ways of coping with it all.  Enjoying music with a bit of an edge to it, and finding a sense of community in those who also felt isolated and misunderstood were two of the ways he found fulfillment in life.  Piercing his own ears and learning how to properly stretch them was another form of expression he had enjoyed.  

Though Satoru asking about what fooling around actually meant to him left him a bit speechless.  It was wrong to kiss and tell, wasn’t it?  He didn’t really want to describe the things he had done with others … those people weren’t in the picture anymore, and for good reason.  They didn’t actually know Suguru … not really, anyway.

Luckily enough, Satoru had started talking about the current issues with his clan, which had freed Suguru from the spotlight —-- even if only for a moment.  He had finally let go of the breath he had been holding, in favor of … well, getting pissed off about how Satoru’s family was treating him, instead.

Satoru’s hair had been soft against his fingertips as he brushed it away from his face.  Like freshly fallen snow, he mused.  Suguru smiled at the thought, allowing his hand to linger atop the other’s that had grown all too comfortable covering up his beautiful face from view.

Did Satoru even know how beautiful he was? 

‘ It’s just you. '

Satoru’s words hung in the air for a bit before he turned away, as if avoiding any sort of eye contact. There was something about knowing he was the only one that Satoru felt close to that made his chest hurt.  There was also a swell of possessiveness mixed in with that ache —--- Suguru wanted everyone to see how great Satoru was, of course … but at the same time, he wanted Satoru all to himself.

He would have to unpack that later.

Suguru held that comfortable silence between them as Satoru gently pulled at his hand, wanting to keep it situated near his own despite his desire to look away.  This was the second time today that Satoru hadn’t pulled away from his touch. Earlier, Suguru had helped him to stand … they had raced to class together, their hands never once parting ways.  And now here Satoru was again, lingering —-- snagging his fingers and holding onto them, albeit loosely.  It made Suguru’s heart do backflips; an unfamiliar feeling, really … liking someone this much.

When Satoru finally abandoned his hand, Suguru’s fingers gripped gently at the fitted sheet atop the mattress —-- bunching the fabric into a loose fist, before smoothing the material back out and shoving his hand into his pocket.

The sudden burst of enthusiasm from his otherwise sullen best friend took Suguru by surprise, his eyebrows raising incredibly high atop his forehead.  He followed Satoru’s positioning, sitting up just as quickly —-- following him without even realizing. 

❝ That’s… one way you could approach it, sure, ❞  Suguru replied with a hum, casting his gaze up at the ceiling as he considered it.  ❝ The path of least resistance.  They’ll probably be piiiiissed when you turn eighteen, though. ❞  He couldn’t help but chuckle as he pictured Satoru shattering his family’s hopes and dreams.  Suguru wanted to be there to see it all unfold, his heart doing backflips again whilst Satoru rested his arm against his shoulder.

Warm.  Suguru felt so warm.

That is, until Satoru oh so casually made his face turn beet red, his skin suddenly ON FIRE—--

❝ H’AAAH?  Wh-... who just SAYS that shit?? ❞  FUCK.  He was SO fucked!  So much for playing it cool!  Suguru frantically pushed the other off of him, clamoring for any scraps of his previous confidence.  He could FEEL Satoru laughing against his hands as they pressed against his face and cheeks, desperately  ( yet playfully )  pushing him away. 

❝ N-no, I haven’t fucked a guy!  Not yet at least! ❞  Suguru felt like his soul had left the fucking building.  Were his EARS on fire??  Why was he so hot all of a sudden!?  This was only fun when he was making Satoru all flustered and red, not the other way around! 

The air shifted around him, as though he was swiveling atop a desk chair, the Realm churning and processing its newest captive. Disorienting. He reached a hand out, now that he could move his limbs again, to test the potential for Blue to warp space and heave the spinning to a stop. Instead, nothing happened. Worth a shot.

Hands clawed, pulling Satoru from whatever second's worth of contemplation he managed to slip into ---- clambering skeletons, yes, his eyes were adjusting to the dark, Six Eyes dormant the same as his Limitless was forcibly restrained, thus leaving him with the near-blinding reliance on human vision to see what was ripping into the sleeve at his left. Bones. Hundreds of corpses, deteriorated flesh hanging off of the more recent victims ---- gnawing jaws of broken teeth, blind grasping for him, for life, for something to chew on now that they had a fresh prisoner to digest.

He didn't feel the pain initially, so accustomed to the blooming negation of RCT, the way it could numb and mend broken flesh and muscle and bone... no -- he did not have access here, the flesh simply tore the same as his jacket's sleeve, dragged away from himself whilst other hands joined to grab, restrain him from a instinctual thrash when that pain did not get numbed like he expected it to, no rush of RCT as a balm. He strained, snarled expression replacing whatever semblance of teary-eyed relief he held in the wake of Suguru's revival. Satoru's heart ached, torn between the panicked beating of a trapped beast and equally so painfully yearning for a swift escape to fall into Suguru's arms ---- a chunk was bitten from his right calf and he let slip a shout, jabbing an elbow into the ribs of a skeleton hanging onto him from behind in a pure gut reaction.

They were ripping him apart, yet that seemed counterintuitive, if he died then the Prison Realm wouldn't retain him, right? Or perhaps that was a lie; these corpses had once been prisoners, too, and their bodies quite clearly remained within the Realm even after their passing. They weren't released. Maybe they had been killed by it, digested slowly akin to a beast's large stomach, acid whittling away at their bodies.

He'd never seen or heard of such an insanely powerful Cursed Object. How did this one manage to evade him, especially after he'd been so meticulous about the Inverted Spear of Heaven and any possible equivalents capable of nullifying Infinity?

He needed to get out of here, everyone was depending on him, his students, his colleagues, the entire human population of Shibuya...

And Suguru, Suguru was back, Suguru needed him --

He reached out again, pulling his arm free with a shredding drag of boney claws, bloodied skin and tattered cloth clinging --

❝ Nine ropes, polarized light, ❞ he writhed, furling his fingers into the signal for Purple. It was absent the surge of power, the way crackling violet came to life upon the mere hand sign, let alone his unnecessary verbal incantation. But he thought saying the words would help jolt his subdued power into the forefront. Nothing came forth ----

❝ Crow and Declaration -- Between front and ----- ❞ something lodged itself through his back, and for a moment he swore he hallucinated Toji's blade ---- before another, and another protruded, a wet popping burst, puncturing through his spine, welling up blood into his throat until he choked, eyes squeezing shut in pained panic. He was swarmed, chattering jaws latching onto him, fingers raking -- ripping -- till he snapped his eyes open only to find himself intact, chest no longer ravaged into a bloodied skewered mess.

Mind games?

His hand remained extended into the signal for his Hollow Purple technique, and he'd perhaps find solace in that... were it not for the distinct way his sleeve was still torn. Flesh unmarred, though. Strange. Resetting him any time he was dealt a fatal blow?

Maybe he needed to die on his own terms to make it spit him out, then he could resuscitate himself via RCT no longer blocked by the Prison Realm's negation. A possibility, though if the Cursed Object didn't immediately release him... he'd suffer at best some brain and other organ damage from oxygen depletion and lack of blood flow, at worst he'd not revive at all due to the length of time spent dead.

Too much of a gamble. He'd likely get spat out in the midst of Special Grades, or into dangerous territory either way ---- if Infinity took its time coming back online, they could truly finish him off before his RCT kicked in at all. The only possible method of escape was too perilous. So... he needed to weather this, and hope that perhaps in time he could either wear the Realm down and take advantage of a lapse in its suppression of his power... or wait until it was broken from the outside.

Well, if he was going to wait, he might as well keep trying.

❝ -- ... nine ropes, polarized light, crow and declaration, between front and back -- ❞

Swarmed again, but this time he did not panic and did not cry out again -- no matter the splattering of blood or the piercing of flesh.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐎𝐆𝐎, the twin destructive forces plowing through metal and concrete akin to hot knives through butter. Screams of innocents caught in the quite literal crossfire died instantly within another grand array of Cleaves thrown ruthlessly, carelessly, bodies upon bodies strewn in puddles of thickened blood whilst towering buildings collapsed, reduced to dust and rubble.

It was no better when Mahoraga emerged, the destructive and explosive battle rendering the entirety of Shibuya a gaping black hole of desolation. Suguru was right to flee when he did, though Sukuna's rampage wouldn't have focused upon him anyway -- immune, marked by the fact that the entity once puppeteering him had been working in Sukuna's favor.

By the time the exiled Sorcerer made it to his makeshift home... the devastation of Shibuya was a smoking husk of ruin, blackened into soot off the face of the Earth.

Nanako's voice cut through -- murmured softly against the bathroom door whilst she awaited signs of life from Suguru, beloved Suguru who had been returned to her, to them all, despite everything. When she and her sister had begged for Kenjaku to relinquish his hold on the corpse of their parental figure so that he could be given back for a proper burial... there hadn't been even a semblance of hope in his actual return of the literal sense. Only the finality of a funeral, a furnace. Things that Gojo Satoru had denied him out of selfishness, out of greed.

In a way, though, it'd been understandable. Grief twisted ones desires, and the girls both held fast onto the solidarity of the three of them all failing at letting go of Geto Suguru. Their patience and sorrow were granted this sweet reward, but clearly not without cost. She could hear him in there, behind the door, a jostling of fabric and a clatter of something off of the sink's ledge, knocked down in the midst of his flinging off of his monk robes.

❝ Geto-sama, are you alright? We're... -- we're here, ❞ a tentative voice, soft and uncertain, yet the moment she spoke there were tears evident in the tremor of her voice. Relief, disbelief, and a desperate need to put her arms around him.

Elsewhere, millions of miles inward into the compression of space and time that entrapped him, cradled delicately within Suguru's arms... Satoru's ringing ears pounded with the rapid throb of every pulse, a pain so sharp and yet so familiar, the oozing thickness of his own blood pooling out of a split throat, choking ---- gasped sputters, fingers flexing into fists till he felt the twist at an unnatural angle, a distortion and breakage, muscles ripping alongside the shatter of bone -- stop, stop ---- it'll reset, it'll reset --

Suguru's disembodied voice fluttered like a cruel hallucination, whispering words of reassurance, of comfort, honey-dripped tone warm at his ear before Satoru gagged against the swell of his own blood. It'll reset. The gaps between resets were growing longer, sporadic yet predictably elongating alongside the weird stretching of time he felt vibrating at his pores. It was probably to toy with his sense of hope and resilience, making the reset unpredictable. Basic torture. He'd be fine, it'd just be unpleasant ----

He snapped back, again, and gasped in for air, coughing up blood that wasn't there anymore -- a cold sweat bloomed, shivering down from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine. Nausea came next, unrelenting, squeezing out an abrupt heave of nothing but bile into the abyss beneath his suspended figure. Satoru spit out whatever lingered in his mouth with a grunt and scrunched snarl of his nose. Ugh. Unpleasant.

❝ Next. ❞

He did not eye the surrounding chatter of bone and claw and fangs with any resemblance of wariness -- only expectant, albeit impatient, letting that hallucination of Suguru's voice flutter back to the forefront of his mind. He'd been preoccupied at the time, he could savor it now. Satoru took a deep breath, and ------

❝ -- Geto-sama, please, we just want to make sure you're okay. ❞ Mimiko joined the fray, speaking over Nanako's shoulder toward the bathroom door. The apartment's lights shuddered, flickering briefly but never fully extinguishing -- they weren't anywhere near Shibuya, yet Japan itself seemed to subtly shudder in the wake of such destruction.

The two girls did not flinch or cower, they had light in their eyes again -- the resentment and bitterness melted away for pure childish joy, selfishly grateful even in the aftermath of such bloodshed to have come out of the entire ordeal reunited.

Even as the entirety of Jujutsu society was about to turn on them, whilst previous endeavors had been kept under the table, allowed to some degree by Gojo Satoru turning a blind eye to his cult's inner workings, the suspicious depletion of Curses around Tokyo, the whispers... gone were the days of anonymity, of flying beneath the radar.

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒:

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐂𝐎-𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘. 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐂𝐓.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐘𝐀𝐆𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓.

𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘.

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒, 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.  The silence left his mind reeling, moments frozen in time dancing before his eyes like wisps of smoke, taunting him with all that he had lost … with all that he had willingly let go of, in pursuit of an impossible dream.

So much of the last ten months had been spent dwelling on the mistakes he had made at seventeen years old —-- decisions that had cost him the comfort of a roof over his head, his friends, his parents … not to mention the love of his life.  Unrelenting despair had churned in his stomach until it had corroded into a full-bodied rage —-- a blind anger towards those weaker than him that had turned a once sweet, hopeful, confident young man into someone so utterly unrecognizable.

For ten years, Suguru had been a stranger to himself.  It took him dying to realize how wrong he had been; wrong in his approach towards change, towards his ideals, his misguided anger… everything.  That realization had led him back to his former self, sitting idly in an airport whilst awaiting the arrival of his other half.  

A movie reel of his and Satoru’s blue spring played on loop before he screwed his eyes shut, ignoring the painful sting that lingered behind them.  Suguru hadn’t wanted to live in this world anymore.  And yet he had defied the laws of nature to return to this place; to save the love of his life —-- his soulmate.  There was so much he wanted to tell him … his heart raced with the fear of losing Satoru for good, his fingers tightening around the cursed object housing the most important person in his life. The silence around him grew even heavier, now —-- amplifying the anxiety that gripped at his chest.  Suguru couldn’t shake the thought of a life without him —-- a permanence he had never once considered a possibility.

He leaned back against the porcelain tiles, his tired muscles flexing underneath heated skin, desperately seeking relief from what felt like a fever now coursing through him.  His head was pounding —-- the aftermath of his soul’s fight for dominance over Kenjaku, no doubt, among other things.  More than anything, Suguru felt exhausted … defeated, despite the small victory of overpowering Kenjaku.  His return hadn’t mattered, really —-- he had still been too late.  He had let Satoru down, yet again…

Suguru’s free hand reached upwards to lightly graze those stitches across his forehead, his heart forcing its way up into his throat in the process.  Suguru couldn’t help but let out a pained groan.  How the fuck was he going to handle all of this?  It was too much… he was still so raw around the edges, beating himself up for his past failures; and now he had the added bonus of being responsible —-- even if indirectly —-- for Satoru’s imprisonment?

It was too much.  Too much…

The first time the twins called out to him, Suguru had ignored them.  Playing the role of their caretaker right now when his entire world was caving in felt utterly impossible.  What kind of role model was he to them?  Or to his found-family of curse users? Suguru knew deep down that they just wanted to be there for him, like he had been there so many times for them … but letting anyone see him in this state felt too vulnerable; too intimate.  He couldn’t even look at himself, much less those who still somehow managed to love him.

Instead, he had peered back down at the prison realm, now resting in his lap.  Suguru’s bleary gaze lingered on each blue eye adorning the cursed object, wondering if they truly reflected the man now occupying it. 

❝ Stay alive, Satoru, ❞  he whispered again as his thumb caressed its blunt edges.  ❝ I came back for you… you can’t leave me behind now, I won’t let you. ❞

The second time the twins called out to him, Suguru found the strength to stand up.  He slipped the cursed object into the right pocket of his sweats, and shrugged on the loose fitting white t-shirt that Larue had lent him.  

❝ I’m here, girls, ❞  Suguru replied whilst opening the bathroom door.  His voice was still hoarse.  ❝ I’m sorry, I just—... needed a moment.  I’m okay.  Are you both alright?  I know tonight’s been rough… for everyone, it seems. ❞

Suguru didn't have the energy to put up a front —-- to act like he was peachy keen after coming back from the fucking dead. The bags under his eyes were very much still prominent, as was his slumped posture. He cast his gaze over to Larue and Manami, before carding his hands through Nanako and Mimiko's hair. It was a familiar gesture, though Suguru felt so painfully disconnected from himself. He could only hope that his inner turmoil wasn't too obvious.

The exiled sorcerer had sent the twins to bed, promising to come join them after talking to what remained of their family. It was only then that he had explained what had happened in B5F through his own perspective.

It wasn’t lost on him how utterly catastrophic the events in Shibuya had been.  Though Suguru also wasn’t willing to throw himself or his family into the fray just yet.  Truth be told, he was glad they had high-tailed it out of there —-- Larue had already heard through the grapevine that Suguru’s death penalty had been reinstated.  What came as the biggest surprise to him, though, was that Satoru had somehow become the Jujutsu world's greatest threat.  For those in charge to permanently exile him from the society he devoted his entire life to, left an all too familiar, and all too disgusting taste in his mouth.

It seemed that there was no escaping his bloodlust, much less the desire to permanently rid the world of their stain.

After much deliberation, Suguru decided to text Shoko. Someone within the walls of Jujutsu Tech needed to know that Suguru was back in his right mind, and had the prison realm housing Satoru safe and sound. He had wanted to text Yaga, but with the execution order on his head, he was sure his old professor had his own issues to worry about.