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A man who looks just like me peers into my soul, tearing away at the walls I’d so carefully built for myself, with the angelic grace and ease with which an Olympian hero would strike down a common soldier.
I feel his fingertips tug at my skin, tearing it away as he plucks at muscle and sinew and bone. His nails scrape against my heart, though he does not tear it out, as I’d previously feared: his fingers brush against it now, moving to carefully grasp it with both hands, holding it just how you would expect anyone to hold something delicate, something fragile. My heart is porcelain against his fingertips, porous enough for cracks to take shape even under such a delicate touch of skin.
“Show me your secrets,” my voice resounds, though I know that voice no longer belongs to me. It’s his now, to do with whatever he so pleases. I have no say in the matter, I’ve accepted as much. It doesn’t keep me from using the last shreds of strength I still have, however– this heart is mine and mine alone, and you will not have it, no matter how broken it is.
Not a single part of me wants to believe my memories are not mine alone, but as one dawns on me, I can feel in my blood that he can see it too. He feels it in his bones just as I do, and the glee that belongs to him, belongs to me as well.
I feel him picking apart my memories, directing both of our gazes towards a time in spring. Spring is a time for firsts, for first bloom, first love. It doesn’t take much for the memory to set, to take shape and draw me in. I am a spectator, along with the man who had prodded so deeply into my memories. I didn’t want him to see this, I didn’t want him to know.
“Why are you searching for him?” I try to ask, but my voice doesn’t resound. I strain the throat that is no longer mine alone, and nothing comes out.
“You’ll see,” he answers, regardless. He knows my thoughts, feels what I feel, and a smirk forms on lips that should only be contorted in agony. “Just watch.”
Spring
A scene at an abandoned amusement park unfolds, two young boys standing atop a ferris wheel as they meet face to face with their first gigantic abomination. A grade one, that much is obvious, and neither of the boys seem to be breaking so much as a sweat so far. The curse’s body is contorted, shaking with anticipation. It revels in the thought of utterly destroying two young sorcerers, not knowing what fate laid in store for it.
“Suguru,” the white-haired boy says, “You scared?” He grimaced, and the boy next to him grins.
“Why, are you?” Suguru remembers being scared, acting tough for the sake of acting tough. Back then, showing weakness to a boy like Gojo Satoru was the worst thing he could have envisioned for himself. He’d grown up on the countryside, where curses were weak, clustering together like small fish in the ocean. It had never been like this.
Despite knowing he was strong, and that he could easily handle himself, especially with Satoru by his side, he was terrified. He wouldn’t let that stop him, though.
“As if,” Satoru returned, “let’s kick his sorry ass and get ice cream.”
The both of them approached it in the kind of unison you would be able to count yourself lucky to see in ballet; a two-pronged attack, gracious and ferocious at the same time, setting itself apart with the strongest combination of cursed energy around since the Heian era. They knew they were strong, and they’d be glad to show it to anyone who asked for a demonstration.
Cursed energy rippled through the air, cutting through the curse before them as it replaced a playful grimace with a face that could only express agony and fear. Once it was weak enough, Suguru put out his hand, drawing the twisting shapes of the curse towards it as it shaped into a small black and golden orb, resting in his hand. He popped it into his mouth like it was nothing, still riding the high paved by adrenaline and posturing, and both boys raised their hands to each other high fiving as they moved down into the ferris wheel carriage they’d been standing on.
“I told you we’re the strongest,” Satoru said, awfully pleased with himself, as usual.
The taste of the curse in his mouth plagued Suguru now, as the adrenaline wore off, and he hunched over the edge of the carriage, hands covering his mouth as he forced himself not to vomit.
“Hey– you okay?” There had been genuine concern in Satoru’s voice then. There’s a first for everything.
Suguru only nodded, still pressing his hands to his mouth. He felt Satoru’s hand upon his back, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of his uniform. It had been unexpected, at the very least. He’d never expected Satoru to be the kind of person to comfort him like this, much less the kind of person who would ever end up holding his hair as he hunched over the toilet.
“Yeah,” Suguru lied, “it’s just… pretty gross.” He swallowed thickly, trying to regain control over the situation. Many times he’d wished he could just have been granted a different cursed technique, or even none at all, but today he couldn’t bring himself to. All that would mean is that Satoru might not see the two of them as the strongest, or perhaps he would not think of Suguru at all. It’s a thought he didn’t want to entertain at the time.
“What’s it taste like, anyway?” Satoru asked, hand still resting where Suguru’s shoulder met his neck. He was so warm, and Suguru tried not to think of why he didn’t mind Satoru keeping his hand there. Why he wouldn’t mind if Satoru kept his hand rested there for all of eternity.
“Like…” It was the first time someone had ever asked him to describe it. It wasn’t easy to put into words. Suguru felt it was worse than anything else in existence, but he managed to paint a picture for him: “Like vomit and excrements.”
Suguru watched Satoru’s gaze switch from concern to disgust and then to a playful smile.
“So, ice cream sounds like a pretty good idea then?” Satoru tried to still sound concerned, but the idea of getting ice cream was mostly for himself, Suguru knew. He appreciated it nonetheless.
“Yeah,” Suguru agreed, “ice cream does sound good.” He smiled at his friend, Satoru’s breath on his skin. It smelled of bubblegum and raspberries. Normally Suguru wouldn’t have appreciated it, but now, anything other than the memory of what a curse tasted and smelled like was preferable.
“Hang on,” Satoru said, fumbling through his pockets. “Close your eyes a sec.”
“...why?” Suguru wondered, now suddenly suspicious.
“Just do it. Trust me.”
Suguru put his hands over his eyes, feeling some disappointment as Satoru lifted his hand from his back.
“Now open your mouth.”
“I’m not liking my prospects. If you put shit in my mouth or something I’ll kill you. I don’t even care if you're the amazing Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo clan, or whatever. I’ll take down the whole of Jujutsu–”
A burst of flavour filled his mouth, raspberry replacing the flavour of a grade one curse gradually. Satoru’s hands were on his shoulders, a broad smile staring back at him when he opened his eyes.
“A lollipop?” Suguru managed to speak around the lollipop.
“Yeah. Should help you until we get to the parlour, I think.” Satoru popped another lollipop into his own mouth as he spoke. “Shall we go?”
“Yeah.” Suguru couldn’t help but smile. “And, Satoru?” he added, as they descended the ferris wheel, causing Satoru to look around, “thanks.”
I can’t help but feel a profound sadness, looking back, heart aching for a time when we were happy and young. I remember the ice cream we got– matcha and vanilla for me, while Satoru took every kind of fruity flavour on offer. As I recall, he managed to finish it too, all ten scoops. He’d even wanted more, but we had to head back to school. I took him back there again when we had a day off, and I think that’s when I’d started to think of wanting to kiss him for the first time. At least, that’s when it formed into conscious thought. He was brusque, a little immature, but lovely just the same. I’d much rather have him hold my heart in his hands than anyone else, much less the man who held it now.
I can’t help but wonder why this memory is of interest to him , with his grandiose plans and the fact that Satoru is a clear nuisance to him.
“Next,” he says, “perhaps this one will be of more use?”
Summer
On the streets below the two of them, a summer festival is well underway. The redness of the sun behind them bathes them in an orange glow, and Satoru looks beautiful in the light. Suguru catches himself thinking it, quickly looking away towards the crowds of people below them, fighting the blush he can feel forming on his cheeks.
“This is amazing,” Satoru spoke as he tried to gesture towards the flying manta ray they sat upon with bags of treats in hand. It didn’t go very well. His bag of goldfish nearly fell off, and Suguru just barely managed to catch it.
“Careful,” Suguru says, “those are living creatures, you know?” He chuckled, placing the bag back into Satoru’s hands. “You really did buy too much.”
Satoru grasps Suguru’s hands as the goldfish are pressed back into his, looking directly into Suguru’s eyes. “I didn’t buy these. I won them.”
“Like that changes anything. Can I get my hands back?”
“I’ve thought about it and my answer is no.”
Suguru wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he didn’t object to it. Normally he would’ve fought it, but he didn’t exactly mind it.
“The fireworks should be starting soon,” Suguru said in an effort to change the subject, and Satoru seemed to lean forward ever so slightly. Suguru now knows Satoru had been contemplating whether or not to kiss Suguru, but instead he leaned back again.
“Your hands are so cold,” Satoru said, ignoring the comment about the fireworks. “Are they always like that? Maybe I should be holding them more often.”
Suguru’s cheeks flushed at that, not sure how to respond to that. He took a shaky breath, and tried to smile.
“Maybe you should,” he finally said, the first fireworks obscuring his words. He was somehow thankful for it.
Fireworks exploded into what seemed like millions of colours and lights around them, illuminating both of their faces, and Satoru’s grip on Suguru’s hands weakened. He looked absolutely content, looking up at the sky above as the fireworks rose to their highest point, exploding over their heads.
“It’s beautiful,” Suguru said, unable to take his eyes off the dazzling lights around him.
“You’re beautiful,” Satoru spoke absent-mindedly, then caught himself, a startled expression on his face.
“What?”
“I said, you’re right, it’s beautiful.”
Suguru couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and became unable to stop himself from laughing. He tried slapping his hand in front of his mouth to muffle the laughter, he tried looking away from Satoru, but he still couldn’t stop.
He eventually looked back at Satoru again, who seemed just a bit disappointed, or sad, somehow.
Suguru took Satoru’s hand back into his, taking a deep breath and biting his lower lip to keep from laughing.
“You’re beautiful too.”
The both of them burst into laughter then, and only the thought of potentially falling off the manta ray had them settle down.
“Satoru?” Suguru asked once they quieted down, Sugurus head settled comfortably into Satoru’s lap.
“Hmm?” came Satoru’s response as he lowered his face to look at Suguru again.
“Do you want to kiss?”
It was a bold question, Suguru had known that then. He knew it could ruin everything they had up until then, but he felt confident enough to think that yes, Satoru did want to kiss . It might’ve been all he wanted at that moment.
Satoru hadn’t responded to the question then, but instead lowered his face, lips hovering above Suguru’s for a while. It took so long in Suguru’s mind that he felt Satoru might change his mind after all, but before he knew it he felt the warmth of Satoru’s lips on his, the taste of an assortment of sweets transferring to him.
It hadn’t been perfect, as far as first kisses go. It had been perfect, as far as the two of them knew.
“Ah, so you two were like that,” I hear my own voice say, a mirthful grimace on my face. “And yet, he killed you with his own two hands? How poetic.”
It’s not poetic. I did horrible things to him, and yet I still don’t regret any of them. More importantly, why did this man care about that so much? Why did he need these memories?
Why are you doing this?
“So I can do what I should have done a long time ago. Thanks to you, I shouldn’t run into any issues. Let’s move on to the next, shall we? Let us witness your decay.”
Autumn
It had been another ordinary day to everyone but Suguru.
“I won’t die, relax,” Satoru breathes out the words easily, without a single thought behind them. He believed every word he’d just said, and probably still does. He could not and cannot fathom a world in which those words are untrue, so he’ll never consider that option– at all.
Suguru was different then, already. Perhaps he always did have a different perspective on things. Death enveloped him even then. It wrapped around his lungs and heart and he could feel the cracks in his soul each time he watched Satoru’s back as he left school grounds.
“Goodbye,” he’d say. “I love you,” he’d whisper silently, when Satoru was just out of earshot. “Don’t die.”
It was odd, really. No one else would consider the possibility of the strongest sorcerer around dying, but it consumes Suguru. Today was another day filled with fake smiles and assurances, another night filled with terrors and visions of the person he loves most in this world. Memories of those they’d lost.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Suguru could only say, trying his hardest not to tear away his gaze, not to have his face contort, not to dig his nails into his bed. “But what if you’re not?” he added, “what if this is the last time we see each other–”
“Stupid. I’d simply get better.”
“Better? From being… dead?” Suguru nearly chuckled. It was almost funny. Almost.
“Yeah. I’ve done it before, after all. Or–” Satoru stopped to think, then grinned. “I’d come back as a curse. Yeah. I’d haunt you, to the end of time.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Will you eat me, Suguru? Wrap your lips around–”
A pillow landed on Satoru’s face, and Suguru stood before the bed, his heart beating heavily in his chest, his lungs working overtime to keep up.
“Get out.”
I feel my throat contract, my nails digging into my hands as I curl them into fists. It’s not him doing this– it’s me.
“Please, stop.” It’s my voice. My will.
No. He’s letting me speak.
“Would you like me to show you your death instead?”
A pit forms in my stomach, a hollowness that won’t be filled. It’s a strange thing, being in a position to remember your own death. Not quite dead, and certainly not quite alive.
“Please, no.”
Winter
Satoru found Suguru hunched over the toilet when he came back to Jujutsu Tech after a mission, one of the few times they still saw each other. Just once in a while, they’d bump into one another on the school grounds, or Suguru would find Satoru sleeping after a mission, which was a rare sight in general. He didn’t want to be seen like this. Even after all the times Satoru had held his hair for him, when he would hand him a glass of water, stuff a lollipop into his mouth.
Lately, Suguru had felt as though there was no one to speak to. Satoru didn’t understand. They were no longer on the same wavelength, as they had been before that summer. Suguru found himself missing the times where there had been no need for them to speak in order to understand one another.
“Special grade?” Satoru asked, kneeling down next to Suguru to wipe the loose strands of hair out of his face.
Suguru could only nod before taking a sip of water.
“Yeah.” Suguru’s voice was hoarse, and before he knew it, Satoru had already popped a lollipop into his mouth.
This is when he realised– they did grow apart, but Satoru wasn’t the blame. He wasn’t sure if anyone was to blame, but he did feel responsible.
“Can you hold me for a while?”
Satoru didn’t speak, but instead, took Suguru into his arms, leaning against the bathroom wall. Suguru buried his face into Satoru’s shirt, feeling a quietness inside of him that he didn’t often get to experience anymore. There were times he wished he could forget what happened to them, pretend it wasn’t there infecting his heart like Satoru could.
“I wish that I could fix this,” Suguru whispered, “I wish that it was easy.”
“It’s okay,” Satoru replied, his voice the softest whisper. It wasn’t okay.
Suguru wanted to tell him, there and then.
I don’t believe what we’re doing is right anymore. Why does it always have to be us risking our lives? You were right when you said looking out for the weak is a pain.
He didn’t say any of it.
“Let’s go to bed,” Satoru finally said. He seemed distant. Stronger than ever, when Suguru felt weak. “Can I sleep over?”
“Always.”
This night was the last night that Suguru felt the warmth of Satoru’s body against his own as he struggled to fall asleep. Perhaps it was the last night he truly slept soundly, despite all the chaos in his mind and in his dreams. He felt calm next to him, but he knew it couldn’t be like this for much longer.
When Satoru was soundly asleep, Suguru had the courage to say it; Satoru wouldn’t hear it, but saying it out loud was important to Suguru regardless.
“I’m leaving Jujutsu Tech next year. I don’t know where I’ll go, or what I’ll do. I’ll love you until I die, but I can’t be here anymore. I love you.”
“So you stuck around for a bit too long, and lost your mind,” my voice says, and I’m not sure if he’s right.
Perhaps, if I’d left earlier I’d be working in an office now, or I’d be back in my hometown, teaching at the local school. Instead, seeing two children locked up was too much, and I made a permanent decision that would eventually lead to my death. Did I think about it at that time? No. Did I consider calling Satoru? Yes.
“I did what I had to.” I’m not sure if I’m lying to myself or if I genuinely believe it. “What are you going to do with Satoru?”
“You’ll see in October.”
“Yo, Satoru,” my voice says. “It’s been a while.”