#verse:cursed

Building on this verse, Satoru kills everyone in the House of the Star following Riko Amanai’s death. This diversion occurs either because Geto arrives too late, or because Geto encourages the motion upon arrival.

Satoru defects after this. Having mastered Purple, killed Toji Fushiguro and massacred the cult, he trails a newly forged reputation in his wake. In addition, his having relinquished the protection of the school and the safeguard of his peers leads to the accumulation of interested parties (curse users, curses, the clans and the higher ups) releasing bounties calling for his capture or death.

As a result, his powers develop quickly. He masters his Infinity in the months that follow the Star Plasma Vessel incident, and his domain is fully formed by the time he is eighteen.

He finds his way into the underground and makes a name for himself as a volatile firebrand (known as ‘The Gojo Heir’ and ‘Six-Eyes’, interchangeably) seeking to revamp Jujutsu society by tearing it down. With the existing advantage of being the Gojo heir, he sets his sights on the great clans and the elders, carrying out a string of assassinations and exerting his influence towards the goal of reducing the old world to ashes with complete refurbishment in mind.

That said, he sees himself as a tool and doesn’t seem to prioritise being the last one standing as long as his goal is realised in the end. He is eventually killed by Geto Suguru and Yuuta Okkotsu after he attacks the school on December 24th in 2017 on his quest to gather Sukuna’s fingers.

Regarding the motivations behind doing this- Satoru has become somewhat aware of Kenjaku at this point in time and understands that the world they’re pushing for is incongruous with his own. His plan is this: to gather the fingers and either find a way to destroy them or swallow them himself, believing him strong enough to withstand Sukuna’s influence.

Following inadequate means of disposal, his corpse is stolen from the school’s mortuary mere days after his death.

As a powerful sorcerer with a prodigious amount of cursed energy, the fact of there being considerable value in him- to the level of his body parts (blood, eyes, bone...) plays a part in the resurgence of motivation to induce his demise. With this in mind, the disappearance of his body doesn’t come as a massive surprise. Suspicion of foul play- even amongst faculty and sorcerers with access to the facilities runs rampant in the following weeks.

( tired ) : one muse finds the other so exhausted they’re having trouble standing 

( either or ; Sukuna to Satoru ; any verse[s]! )

“Not very smart of you to be letting your guard down like this.”

The door shut with a click behind him, a second sound following the first in clear indication of a locking mechanism pointedly sliding into place. Satoru hadn’t expected to come home to company. There really weren’t many (save for a scant few- all of which he could name, recall a good amount of information on, and easily count on the fingers of one hand) who knew the location of his abode.

It was fortunate that his unexpected intruder had chosen to break in when he had. The past few days had occupied him sufficiently that he’d simply not had the time to swing by.

Satoru strode into the flat with the easy, unbothered grace of a predator, dropping a heavy duffel at the doorway and sizing up his company. They’d shared drinks on occasion and even fought side by side. But a few instances of collaboration could not be used to make any automatic assumption of harmonious camaraderie. At the end of the day, Sukuna was a threat; a threat that he would deal with without a second thought if the need ever so arose.

“So.” He started calmly, rubbing his thumb over a splotch of dried blood on the inside of his wrist. 

Building on this verse, Satoru kills everyone in the House of the Star following Riko Amanai’s death. This diversion occurs either because Geto arrives too late, or because Geto encourages the motion upon arrival.

Satoru defects after this. Having mastered Purple, killed Toji Fushiguro and massacred the cult, he trails a newly forged reputation in his wake. In addition, his having relinquished the protection of the school and the safeguard of his peers leads to the accumulation of interested parties (curse users, curses, the clans and the higher ups) releasing bounties calling for his capture or death.

As a result, his powers develop quickly. He masters his Infinity in the months that follow the Star Plasma Vessel incident, and his domain is fully formed by the time he is eighteen.

He finds his way into the underground and makes a name for himself as a volatile firebrand (known as ‘The Gojo Heir’ and ‘Six-Eyes’, interchangeably) seeking to revamp Jujutsu society by tearing it down. With the existing advantage of being the Gojo heir, he sets his sights on the great clans and the elders, carrying out a string of assassinations and exerting his influence towards the goal of reducing the old world to ashes with complete refurbishment in mind.

That said, he sees himself as a tool and doesn’t seem to prioritise being the last one standing as long as his goal is realised in the end. He is eventually killed by Geto Suguru and Yuuta Okkotsu after he attacks the school on December 24th in 2017 on his quest to gather Sukuna’s fingers.

Regarding the motivations behind doing this- Satoru has become somewhat aware of Kenjaku at this point in time and understands that the world they’re pushing for is incongruous with his own. His plan is this: to gather the fingers and either find a way to destroy them or swallow them himself, believing him strong enough to withstand Sukuna’s influence.

Following inadequate means of disposal, his corpse is stolen from the school’s mortuary mere days after his death.

As a powerful sorcerer with a prodigious amount of cursed energy, the fact of there being considerable value in him- to the level of his body parts (blood, eyes, bone...) plays a part in the resurgence of motivation to induce his demise. With this in mind, the disappearance of his body doesn’t come as a massive surprise. Suspicion of foul play- even amongst faculty and sorcerers with access to the facilities runs rampant in the following weeks.

In the end, the body is deemed lost until it makes a reappearance in Shibuya station, 2018.

“Watch your mouth.” 

They were made markedly more formidable in each other’s company. While it wasn’t that he needed or god forbid- relied upon Sukuna’s ( inferior ) ability by any means, Satoru had always been volatile. This was a trait which was only amplified to terrifying levels in the presence of a binding catalyst such as the one the other presented.

But this facultative complement between them was by no means equivalent to camaraderie. After all, Satoru had made it abundantly clear that he was just as likely to kill him as it suited him as he was to play into his predatory affections. 

His gaze was cold, his eyes like chips of ice and largely unreadable save for the vaguely hooded quality which only darkened his expression. He lifted a hand to wave two condemning fingers through the air. 

“  that’s enough.  you’ve got your revenge.  let’s go.  ”

The smell of seared flesh choked the air, a cloying odour made all the more pungent with the combined aroma of blood. It was splattered liberally over every corner of the room, coating each surface and seeping thoroughly into every gap and crevice of its sparse furnishings.

The men who'd originally piqued his interest were slumped in their chairs, left as little more than gory hunks of flesh in the wake of his fury. Their carcasses were more befitting of an abattoir than the well-kept conference room of a distinguished hotel. Indeed, Satoru thought they made for poor decorations, too ostentatious by far even in the stillness of death, an aura of grating self-importance exuding from every inch of the sprawling devastation he'd wreaked.

Disgusting- He thought, and realised too late that he'd spoken aloud. Not that it mattered. He wasn't conscientious about having his thoughts heard, especially when considering his current company. The truth deserved to be spoken, and it had been denied its release for too long at the behest of those who had no right to command its jurisdiction.

Though he'd made himself a pariah, the line between the worthy and the undeserving could not have been better illustrated by the current picture. Gore so abundant that the room seemed wallpapered in careless, lycoris red; and himself- untouched and clean, as if inserted into the narrative by an overarching and omnipotent deity with an eccentric sense of humour.

How twisted, and yet how titillating.

Satoru didn't turn to address the only other survivor in the room. His voice rang with a pitched and whimsical resonance, sing-song and so effortlessly flippant that it bordered on being disturbing.

“That’s not a good sign.”

Even now did he fight the urge to fall back into the toneless repetition of his best friend’s name- the only thing which felt natural. He’d died with Suguru on his mind, died begging anyone and anything that he would be safe without him.

Fate had granted him his wish in its own twisted way. Suguru had never retrieved his body and never would. It would be an impossibility with how he’d been so extensively butchered, those remaining pieces of him passed from hand to greedy hand, spread so far and so wide that all physical congruity could only be considered irreparably lost. 

It didn’t matter. Suguru had him now and he had Suguru.

They’d find the ones who’d did this to him, hunt them down- they’d kill all those wretched monkeys, then, then-

Satoru reckoned that he’d have to stop oozing all over the floor first. He hacked up puddles of black oil studded with swirling galaxies, the six blue eyes which adorned his shifting form blinking in all directions. He wanted to burst at the seams, yearned to reach out and swallow everything in his vicinity. 

There was the longing to destroy, to slaughter, to fight as if a struggle now might overturn death’s untimely hold. 

“S-Sugu- Suguru...” He chanted, moaned. Satoru’s form shuddered, alien and eerie in the very way he moved. His very voice was distorted, pitched and screeching as if channeled through an old radio.

“Life’s all about takin’ risks.”

Satoru shrugged, entirely too nonchalant for the gravity of their situation. “Nothing lost, nothing gained right?”

Though he had pulled off flippancy remarkably well thus far, the weight of what he’d done had truly begun to settle onto his shoulders. He was the prodigious heir of the Gojo clan- the very heir who’d broken away from his collar of obedience and expectation, attacked the Zen’in clan and stolen one (technically- two) of their most valued assets, and somehow still lived to tell the renegade tale.  

It was fair to say that the trajectory of his life thus far had taken a sudden and perilous turn. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but there was no denying that Suguru’s presence had been- and would surely continue to be invaluable. Without him to serve as his mainstay and anchor, Satoru’s downfall would surely be graceless and inevitable. He was simply too headstrong and impulsive for this careening arc of a journey to end in any other way.

They’d always been afraid that he’d buckle under the immense pressure and snap. He spared a chuckle at the thought of it- here he was, finally living up to one of their expectations, his mother ought to have been happy. Yet, all they seemed interested in now was in dragging him back and putting him down like a rabid dog.

Hah! Let them try.

“tell me something funny.”

“What about the fact that we’re still not dead even though everyone’s tryin’ to kill us?”

Morbid? Definitely. Funny? Not so much. 

His patience and humour both wore thin. It was hard to imagine otherwise, what with all the near endless hiding and evading they’d been forced into doing over the past few months. As was often said- there wasn’t any rest for the wicked. Sadly, he was finding it increasingly true, especially with the whole of Jujutsu society out gunning for the two of them. 

Perched on the rooftop ledge of some dilapidated residential column, Satoru kicked his feet out into empty air, marvelling at the urban insect-like crawl of lights and silhouettes on the street beneath them.