* THIS STAR-LIKE SOLITUDE,

Placing the persimmon in Satoru's mouth once he's sat down, Suguru tenderly wipes away the juice from his bottom lip with his thumb. It's a quiet sort of affection he never thought he'd have. Not in this bustling land where no one pays attention to the other, too concerned about their day-to-day lives to care.

taking his time to savor the bites as they come, he emits a low noise of approval as he seeks the man’s body warmth. satoru knows he’s lucky. the bare skin he presses the side of his cheek against, the permeating taste of ripe persimmons steady on his tongue; mere days into the future, if even that, he will come to miss the transience of a morning’s respite. for once he finds contentment in simply listening, imagining a much younger suguru caught red-handed, persimmons stuffed into his tiny pockets. would he try to bargain his way out of it? would he share with his friends? an imperceptible sigh against the viera’s shoulder later and satoru mindlessly squeezes him into a brief embrace. he wouldn’t know what either felt like. bargain with who? what friends?

it isn't long before something in him , his soured temper , wants to stomp up and swat the spoils in the other's hands with a catty smack onto the aged wooden floor . but the meek rest instinctively shrinks and shirks away when the self proclaimed " strongest " steps forward . his pace mirrors backwards to maintain any distance , a cycling motion that'd persist until either satoru found pause or the building's indifferent wall pressed him to a helpless halt .

' back off , ' buzz off is what he really wants to say , ' and i'm supposed to know who nanami is why , again ? '

hackle and grimace , to be kidnapped then kept here perpetually in the myriad darks --- in a place so foreign and separated from the rest of japan that at times it felt like he had outright been spirited away to another world . still , he was too stubborn to just drop dead despite the sudden rob of every freedom , if not too much of a frightened coward to commit any kind of deed himself .

“ … i didn’t even say anything about that. what’re you getting so worked up about, exactly? ” satoru has seen frightened cats before: his company looks more and more like one the more he approaches it, and he finds no concern nor amusement in the way the guy’s a mere few steps away from hitting the wall with a particularly brutal thud — would it leave a crater there from the impact, there to serve as mortifying evidence of something, anything but human? would it recoil and writhe and fly a little too close to the sun in an attempt to crush the invisible bars of that self-imposed prison? he can’t tell. at times, gojō satoru likes to play the observer on purpose, completely oblivious to any traces of malice his intentions might carry.

here, however, he’d like to say he understands. doppelganger’s perceived predictability admittedly puts him at an impasse; with jujutsu regulations firmly reinforcing that no threat is to be left unmanaged or to roam free, at worst, this might as well be the next best thing despite the spirit’s protests.

“ why not? if you’re gonna be here a while, wouldn’t it be great to make a friend or two? nanamin is one of the best sorcerers this school’s ever seen. but… ! he’s actually worse than i am. ” so take your pick, or something. he knows his tone shouldn’t be this bubbly when introducing a new, special grade threat of its own but he’s already over this whole play pretend business, and if he’s already made an extra effort to humor the other, he only found it natural to warn him of the less pleasant workings or people in this place while he was at it.

for a mercy, he stops moving, instead pondering how much of this curse really belongs. to itself, to whoever it mimics. tilting his head to the side, he presses on. “ ahh, by the way. i’m sure we all like our aliases and the occasional cosplay, but isn’t one gojō satoru enough? you got a real name? and… ”

... honestly, this has been long in the making. i've done my best to make sense of the insanely elaborate story and lore of the game considering i sped through five expansions in the span of (only) 3 months, but i've finally been able to put my thoughts into words and i have @trelonkan to wholly, wholly thank for that. SPOILERS UNTIL DAWNTRAIL ARE PRESENT THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE POST, so please do not click on the read more if you don’t want to be spoiled ! i’m also tagging it just in case but otherwise, this is your only warning. another thing worth mentioning and which you will see a fair amount : suguru is a vitally important character in this verse as well. he is satoru’s companion and partner through and through, their souls bound long since the current events of the game.

"--Aye, lad, s'occupied by th'Empire," Meiko stated. She lowered her voice, "E'en if yer no doin' anythin' shady, any one not from here's bein' watched. Folks are lookin' for a chance tae turn someone intae curry favor."

She shook her head.

“ well… not to crush anyone’s hopes and dreams, but kugane is about as safe as you’ll get for a while. ” unintentionally cryptic, never one to sugarcoat; the threat of occupation is felt by all and if that’s what instilled the glaring unease in local friend and acquaintance alike, satoru has a feeling the purpose of his visit to familiar land might shift from catching up with the good side of his family to averting the nth disaster this year.

Warmth blossoms in his chest when Satoru says they're sharing, gaze softening. Too long. It's been too long. Waking up to find the boy curled up on top of him was a special kind of hell when the cult leader was a student. How he'd yearned, heart aching, to brush messy white hair out of his face, to kiss those perfect lips. Now, he doesn't have to hide it. Now, he can take and take and take. “You'd be surprised at how little space I actually had.” Catching himself, Suguru offers a faint smile. “I'm talking about the twins before you say anything. They had nightmares when they were younger and would invade my bed for comfort.” Teary-eyed, their tiny forms would stumble into his room, distraught. Cages. Beatings. The loss of their parents. No soul, especially so young, could hold such pain without shattering.

Suguru held them until sunrise, quiet reassurances mumbled through the sleepy haze grasping him. The anger only seized him come breakfast, coffee fuelling his tired mind.

“ hey, i wasn’t going to. ” it’s quick, a little defensive, well-intentioned as his mouth involuntarily turns to a helpless curl. far too often has he seen megumi crawl closer to his sister’s side, reluctant and scared; tsumiki herself, barely strong enough to hold him let alone the hardships that followed, fought back tears of her own with a kind of grace no child should learn. he’s about to say something too, something about how he’s done his best to raise a pair of siblings life’s been almost equally cruel to, but the faux monk’s warm exhale spreading up the shell of his ear has him swallow whatever resonating thoughts managed to build up in that short flash of self-reflection. the name isn’t overly familiar. having been raised in a practicing family, he doesn’t rule out the likelihood of having at least heard of it in passing, a brat too preoccupied with wandering off on his own on temple grounds on the first day of the new year.

So far, Hesperus absently notes, he's found nothing nefarious. This can only mean one thing: horrors beyond his imagination lay further in.

His eyes then fall on the last paragraph. Screams loud enough to disorientate and stun any enemies in the vicinity. There's also something about stabbing, but he's already read enough to realise whatever Hyperion has planned will end badly.

“ read on… they’ll only scream like their lives depend on it if you bother them. and you haven’t even heard them yet. ” the paradox, the absolute tongue-in-cheek retaliation. it’s now that he knows not to push his luck, to let hands grip soft knuckles in an exasperated, defeated plea and not fight back.

with the occasional threat of bad behavior, hyperion thinks the other doesn’t do it nearly enough.

Watching him teeter towards the river's edge, a quiet warning tumbles from his lips, “Don't fall in there, by the way. They say it erases your memories.” There's no truth behind it — Lethe's waters are as harmless as they come — but rumours spread like wildfire after a researcher had an unfortunate slip and knocked her head, forgetting the past month.

“ i won’t fall. ” a rushed, dismissive wave of his hand, as if nothing like that would ever even happen. satoru plops down on the wooden bridge across the river’s expanse, crosses his legs comfortably, and waits for the other to join him. the light and vivid colors almost make him want to bask in the sun for hours. i have too many good memories to even risk it. “ if i had a husband… ” he ventures, feigning a trace of curiosity, “ i would probably keep some things hidden from him until it was the right time, too. but no matter what you do — please don’t get azem in trouble. he’s working really hard. i think he might’ve called me part of him at one point. ”

The air shifts again. Born from spiralling darkness, more curses emerge with a piercing cry. A skeletal creature looms, joined by a large bird-like creature swooping overhead. Together, enough to threaten most unfortunate souls whom cross their path; however, they're nothing but gnats to the six-eyes.

“Odokuro and Itsumade, two special grade curses. All brought around by your birth, of course.” They settle behind Kenjaku, docile, pliant, awaiting command. In response, they raise a finger as though preparing Uzumaki; their bodies scatter and twist together, erasing their existence to bring forth a new one. “Do you ever wonder if he'd have suffered less if you hadn't come into existence? Not that his fate at my hands would be any different.” Geto Suguru was always meant to die. Had he remained at Jujutsu High, Kenjaku would have killed him sooner or later. Taken over his corpse, hiding away from the man who adored him until plans bore fruit.

There's something unpleasant in the way they title their head, another of Gojo's sore points needled, “He never showed you this, did he? You were never around to see it. Too busy.” A giant hand emerges, its head and body following moments later, revealing a monstrous, hulking curse. More durable than the ones sent earlier, it should provide ample time for Kenjaku to make their escape and rejoin the others.

yet for one, getō had never shifted the blame onto him. it’s a brief memory, but if he struggles to recall now, it is as early as two years old; hushed whispers floating about in a grand hall shamelessly, not far from where their beloved heir was playing, the air was heavy, stifling. gojō satoru hasn’t rested since.

his expression falls flat.

“ ... just how are you the worst live-action roleplayer i’ve ever seen? you’re not even trying, man. can we get a little serious already? ” the impostor doesn’t appear to care, the constant poking and prodding through efforts of intimidation their one goal; however, his eyes catch the irregularities, the undeniable amount of power nestled between ribs and wings, knowing these have never made it to the registry at the headquarters nor were they ever brought to satoru’s knowledge. “ look, i know you don’t give a shit about civilians. but if i raze the entire ward and take you out with it, i might be able to live with the consequences. you scared of death? but you’ve already died once, haven’t you? suguru. ”