#infinituminter

"S̶̰̭̣͖͔̺͇̣̦̺̻̱̓̎͆̿̂͋̂͛́͝ͅh̴͈̺̣̭͖̬͂͂̌̕i̷̢̞̰͔̋̏̀ţ̶̪̬̘͕͇͍̩̫͍͇̰̅̀̾̊͑͌͛̾̔͘͠"

"good to know you're delusional ..."

The guy was obnoxious. Tall, weird hair, weird blindfold. All of it was plain old off-putting. There was only room enough for one off-putting mother fucker in this place, and by god, it was supposed to be him.

Enough was enough. He needed to put an end to it. Humble this white-haired nobody.

God, he was so smart it scared him sometimes.

"Hey, asshole-" Sanzu swung. There should've been contact by now.

Why must you be so cruel? My love, my light, my entire life. How can you be such a cold man to me in this world when in every other you love me? Could it be because I came too late? Was I the one at fault? Did I fail you yet again? How truly tragic if so... lately it seems as though I cannot do anything but that.

Expression remains neutral even as her heartrate spikes. A drumming so loud in her ears she fears she might go deaf. To think she'd react so strongly to him even when he wasn't the man she typically loved. They shared a face, a mind, a soul, yet this one had zero connection to her. She wonders if it had been something she done in the previous life? Was it possible to sever a connection on accident, or was it simply chance that it occurred. If so that would cause many more problems in the future for her, but she'd deal with that when the time came. For now she had to focus on the problem at hand- Satoru Gojo.

" Is there a reason you felt the need to practice on me? Was it that good for you? Was my body that unforgettable, Satoru? My touch that addicting? Who do you really want, hmm? Her or is she just the next best thing? " Every fiber of her being demands her to get closer, to mold her body against his, to become one with him and remove him from this world once and for all. More than anything she just wanted him to die. At least then she'd have a chance at finding him in a new world, and one where she'd be able to have the man she loved back the way he was meant to be. It mattered naught if he was bad, if he was cruel, as long as that was never directed at her he could be anything he desired. Pathetic? Yes, but she'd stopped caring about that long ago.

" He's beautiful. It's a cop out answer, yes, but it's true. Mind you, it hasn't always been that way. At first I thought he was ugly. From a certain stand point I understood why people fawned over him, but I didn't see it. It didn't help I've always found darker features more attractive, but what could I say? He was full of himself and cocky, but in a way that made me want to take a cheese grater to his head. "

" Truth be told it was only after I started to get closer to him and see more of the man beneath the shallow exterior that my feelings began to change. Suddenly I was aware of how his eyes shimmered like the clear waters of an ocean when the sun hit them. If his hair brushed against my face when he was leaning against me it dawned on me how soft it was- how nice it smelled. His hands... they're big. Very, very big. They always seemed like they'd be calloused and worn, but surprisingly they weren't. Any excuse to touch them, as long as infinity was off, was one I took. His body, well, what's there to say? He's gotten beefier from when I'd first met him, and that's more my type, but I think... I think even if he was scrawnier I'd be attracted. Why? Because it's him. There's no easier way to put it. "

Satoru was a quick learner. He adjusted to this world and his situation quickly, even eased into his dilemma enough to be caught relaxing as they returned from some restaurant he'd insisted on going to in-person, blabbing on about the 188 Pokemon that had been added since his own time.

He pondered sometimes that gulf of distance between them, Gojo's reluctance to really go out and do stuff, and his tendency to hide things as if he did not have full confidence of simply letting the truth hang in the world and deal with the consequences as it came; for many it would raise questions about the nature of self, perhaps, but to a young Satoru it was just proof that this guy wasn't him.

That supposition was challenged in a very visceral way as strong hands slipped through his defenses with ease; their energy were identical, and his reflexes could not keep up with the odd sensation of something that was his own doing something that he did not will. A moment later he was made aware of just how useless it would have been even if he had reacted in time as he wriggled uselessly against the Infinity pinned him in place. It was completely unyielding; he might as well have been an ant held between a child's fingers, only the slightest squeeze required to pop his shell.

"What the fu—" A hand clamped down over his mouth before he could drop a loud string of profanities. He tried to squirm and thrash and break free in any way he could, the pressure holding him down burning with his own helplessness. If he'd been calm, if he'd not been burning in his own skin against the unwanted contact, perhaps he'd have noticed the knots of sorcerers that had wandered by on the other side of the street, been aware of the way Gojo shielded him with his own body, read the tenseness in his muscles and how comparatively gentle the restraining motion had been.

When he was finally released he shoved Gojo away with all the strength he could muster, cursed energy seeped into his limbs as he slips aside, taking several steps away as if to put distance between them— to fight? To run?