[ D E V O R E R ]

NOTICE FROM JUJUTSU HEADQUARTERS : ‶ SUGURU GETŌ’S SURVIVAL HAS BEEN CONFIRMED, & HE HAS BEEN SENTENCED TO DEATH AGAIN. ″ ⸻ 【呪術廻戦】第137章 ：渋谷事変、堅白

♯ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐀𝐍 : an indie & highly selective 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 & 𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗔𝗞𝗨 of gege akutami's 呪術廻戦 jujutsu kaisen. written by arthur.   duplicate, oc & crossover-friendly. please read my rules before interacting. plotting is very much encouraged, but not necessary.

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐬 : nvictive ┊ kimuromou ┊ gyofukuki ┊ wyferne

★ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : carrd. ┊ pinterest. ┊ mobile theme. ┊ chibi cred. ┊ header cred. ┊ icon cred.

@nvictive

This fool. This stupid, lovable, fool. Wearing a grin like he's not confined to a hospital bed, his voice cheerful, undeterred, and composed, unlike his frayed husband sitting at his bedside. His usually tidy hair is unkept, black strands free from the bun oft worn, the bags under his eyes painting a perfect picture of the turmoil within.

It's nigh impossible to fight back overflowing emotions. Suguru's fists clench the bedsheets, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. “Who cares about that. When you… Satoru, I thought you were dead.” Wavering, his voice cracks and breaks into a sob. The fight plays out in his mind over and over again, a ceaseless torment. Blood. So much blood. Satoru's body in the midst of it all, broken into two, the monster possessing Megumi's body standing above him, victorious.

He'll never forgive the zoom-in on Satoru's face. Never forgive the way he was then held back, stopped from storming out into the middle of the battlefield to help.

Struggling to escape his captors, he'd been thrown back to the past. He saw that man, tall and mocking, mentioning unabashed how he'd murdered Suguru's everything.

The despair he'd felt back then was nought like the torrent he'd felt at that moment. How could he go on without the piece that made him whole? The one killed in front of his eyes, lilacs unable to tear themselves away from the horror show on the screen.

His sunshine, his world, snuffed out in an instance. A nightmare held for years bearing fruit, his heart torn out and crushed.

There are no words to describe such pain. Nothing, but the sound of Suguru's broken weeping as grasps loosened and let him sink to the floor.

But miracles, as it turns out, can occur a second time.

He didn't cut my head off, Suguru recalls Satoru explaining when they were young, so I was able to heal through it. Unable to knit the grievous wounds severing his body himself, Shoko stepped in, the pile of accumulating cigarettes abandoned in favour of saving her friend.

And it worked, somehow. It's why he lays here now, alive and breathing. Touchable, soft skin warm against the palm of the teacher's hand as he cups Satoru's cheek.

@nvictive

Passing through towering bookcases holding dusty tomes, Suguru quietly tugs Satoru through winding corridors, a dim lantern lighting the path ahead. It's past midnight — not a soul is around, save for a crying owl outside.

They shouldn't be here. This part of the library is forbidden without explicit permission, but given their host's reluctance to provide them with any useful information, Sugruru took matters into his hands. A simple letter to his hometown's leader, and he soon held a potion strong enough to knock out a Behemoth.

It's their fault for being standoffish and rude, really. Any fallout was entirely because of their behaviour, especially when his husband had asked so nicely, his fluffy tail swishing behind him.

So here they are. Wandering through Sharlyan's forbidden library, two shadows in the dark.

The viera knows they'll get in trouble if they're caught. Thrown off the island, even, for their insolence, barred forever.

All the more reason for them to evade notice, in his opinion.

“That I snuck a potent sleeping potion into the guard's tea? Yes. He won't be bothering us for a while.” Whispered with a smirk, Suguru places a finger in front of his lips and winks.

@nvictive

It's rare that Hesperus gets to show Hyperion something he's not discovered. Rarer still, that he can take him to his hometown, tucked away from their bustling capital.

They're in a dark forest, moving under swaying canopies, Hesperus holding Hyperion's hand tight. His sudden joke makes him laugh, airy and light — trust him to make such a comment when they couldn't be further away.

“Next week, yes. I want to show you something different tonight.” A location he'd escape to in his youth to study, books tucked against his chest as he wandered through overgrown thickets. It's a place of undeniable peace. One perfect for a home cooked dinner prepared by his own two hands. “It's just through here.” He pulls him through trees until a clearing opens, Hesperus halting to behold a tapestry of black woven with shimmering gold; the night sky greets them with a cool, unyielding calm, awaiting their gazes.

A clap of his hands and a picnic basket drops into an open palm. Moments later, he's set everything but the food up, summoned firefly familiars dancing around to create a gentle blue glow.

Perfect. Now for the final act.

Tugging his partner down onto the blanket, Hesperus wraps him in his arms until he's pressed against his chest.

“Look up, my dearest. The stars call your name.” Softly spoken, a twitch of a smile threatening to spread. Dinner can wait. In this land where celestial lights sway and crickets sing, there's no need to rush.

Hyperion's eyes are drawn to the heavens; Hesperus's are centred solely on the man in his arms. For all the beauty of the stars, none can defeat that which he calls his own.

@nvictive

“I-- just look.” Baking a cake takes time. Especially one meant to congratulate his boyfriend on his new teaching job. Layered and tasting like Satoru's favourite chocolate, he'd crafted it with love and care, pouring time into every detail.

Except two fluffy menaces got to it before Satoru could. He doesn't know when exactly — probably when he'd gone to put a wash on, his mind elsewhere.

Either way, it now rests on the ground, utterly destroyed, cake smeared all over the floor.

Two pairs of guilt-free eyes look up at them. Their once clean fur is now covered in chocolate chunks, the remainder of Suguru's hard work scattered around them.

If he looks closely, Suguru can see the 'Congratulations' he wrote in blue icing blurred into mush.

It's almost comedic.

Almost.

He's not mad, of course. They're cats. They don't know any better. It doesn't stop him from pinching the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping parted lips.

“I'm sorry, Satoru. I wanted to surprise you, but it seems they had other ideas.” Thankfully, his boyfriend seems to find it amusing, gathering him in his arms and kissing his cheek with a laugh. Suguru immediately melts in his hold with an affectionate smile. “Let me clean this up. We can order your favourite meal tonight instead.”

@nvictive

So he says with a charming smile, those sharp fangs glinting under moonlight. A monster cloaked in the beauty of The Morning Star, his arms wrapped around the priest's shoulders, Suguru finds his presence suffocating.

He sometimes wonders how he got caught up in all this. Why this vampire decided to cling to him, unwilling to grant him a moment's respite.

“I disagree.” Suguru hesitates in front of the farm house's door, eyes trying to look anywhere but Satoru. If he so much as glimpses those shimmering blues, he'll be lost. “She's sick, certainly, but that doesn't mean you can march in and claim her life. The Lord will take her when it's time.” An elderly lady, recently taken ill. She's not got long, the village doctor says. A few moons at most.

It's a point Satoru presses on. Claims he can grant her a quick mercy so she may find the gates of heaven sooner. Ridiculous. It might grant her succour from her pain in this mortal realm, but what of her soul? What of Suguru's soul? Would the Lord judge them both for what had happened? For the priest standing aside and letting a creature born of shadows feast upon the innocent?

Yet, there's something else in the back of Suguru's mind. Allowing Satoru to eat here would save other, healthy villagers. At least for a while. But just as soon as that thought manifests, he shuts it down. Disgusting. Such evils aren't for the righteous, for a priest of his standing.

It's there Suguru makes his mistake. Lilacs fall into celestials, and he's pulled into their depths. Lord, grant me strength. Grant me--

It fails. No one responds.

The silence is deafening.

He squeezes his eyes shut, listless when he speaks. “Alright. Alright, fine. Just… make it quick. Don't make her suffer.” He then feels cold lips against his, a thank you purred. Suguru freezes. Pushes him away with a hammering heart and marches towards the front door.

It pushes open without much resistance. The priest steps in, standing aside for the other. “You can come in. And be quick.” Whispered urgently again, gaze falling to his shoes.

@nvictive

It's annoying not having a retort ready when he really should.

The day hadn't gone according to plan. Their target was a high-grade curse in an abandoned hospital who'd left countless villagers dead. And he thought he'd sealed everything off. Thought that no one could slip in and encounter the hulking spirit haunting dilapidated, crumbling halls.

Suguru was wrong.

It was a nightmare. Rounding a corner, he'd come face to face with a girl being crushed in the cursed spirit's grip, struggling to escape. How did she get in? Did she sneak in before he'd-- The fear on the child's face struck him cold — small, fragile, helpless. Pleading for help with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face.

He'd acted as fast as he could. A shout to alert Satoru, creatures summoned to fight, and then everything melted into a blur. He remembers yelling that they needed to free the child. Recalls ordering his spirits to protect her, no matter the cost.

Minutes after, he held the monster in a ball. Swallowed it, disgust overwhelming his senses, as his friend ran to tend to the girl.

The child, injured and shaking, was then carried out and handed over without further incident.

Suguru later sat there in the car, motionless. Guilt-ridden and unresponsive. Satoru had to reassure him, in his own, blunt way, that everything was alright. That they'd done everything within their power to help.

In the end, Satoru was right. Yaga wasn't furious and the child would survive; Suguru's worries and fears were for nought. They were let off with a mild lecture about being more careful, but that was it. No after-school cleaning. No running around the depths of the basement, finding old, dusty paperwork their teacher needed for reasons beyond their understanding. Nothing.

He closes his eyes. They're sitting outside now, side-by-side on an old, rickety bench. This summer is particularly hot, and the cicadas sing alongside birds soaring the skies. It's soothing. Something to heal his frayed nerves and grant him a measure of peace.

Suguru's foot bounces against the ground, his open Sprite waiting for him to take the first sip.

He ignores it to rest his temple on Satoru's shoulder instead.