Chapter Text
Purpose and responsibility. A topic of constant conflict between me and Satoru.
Where I would preach the importance, rather, the necessity of strong reasoning and duty when using cursed energy, Satoru would mock my pretentious self-righteousness and use his powers carelessly.
“You see Satoru, jujutsu exists to protect non-jujutsu users.”
I always used to boast about having this clear vision of my life’s destiny. I wholeheartedly believed I was born to protect the weaker. Laughable. I felt satisfaction and relief after the end of every mission. Sometimes I volunteered to take upon supplementary ones. Everything was fine, everything was set in a predetermined, straight line, and I would only have to follow the path it carved in front of me.
Fushiguro Toji split the line in two.
Blinded by my speeches in morality and assumed invincibility, I didn’t really try to diverge from the confines of that straight line, of my close-mindedness. If I had, I would have realized I was never the strong one, if not invincible. Only Satoru was. Maybe I could have saved Riko too.
“But you guys , with all your blessings, lost to a monkey like me who can’t even use jujutsu.”
Monkey. Fushiguro Toji called himself a monkey looking down on me, with his foot on my face and an inexplicable nonchalance. Disgusting. Like toying with a little, helpless kid. As if defeat wasn’t ever a possibility in his mind.
Being humiliated by the “weaker”, the kind I continually strove to defend, felt like a cascade of ice-cold water poured all over my body and soul. I was awakened from a seemingly perpetual slumber, in which every second was merely a dream. Now I was forced to return to reality, one I never really believed existed.
It was like a switch was turned off, filling the walls of my mind with darkness.
After the confrontation with Fushiguro Toji, I went to the star plasma organization grounds, only to meet a ragged and bloody Satoru cradling Riko’s covered corpse in his arms. Somehow, he appeared more lifeless than the corpse itself. His eyes uncovered, hollow, the glow emanating from them dimmed.
We were surrounded by people of the organization. The resemblance was finally clear.
Old and young faces, laughing with their rotten smiles and appalling voices, a cacophony of celebratory sounds at the failure of an initiative purposed to protect them. They were monkeys, mindless animals that rejoiced at the death of an innocent young girl, one that was ultimately no different than them. They clapped vigorously, a revolting round of applause to an act performed excellently. Why should they live and not her?
The horrendous sight before me shook me to the core, threatening to tear down foundations of morale laid after years of diligent thinking. However, they persevered. Otherwise, I would have agreed to Satoru’s massacre proposal that day. Maybe I should have.
With my prior principles still intact , yet rattled, I am striving to accept, a year after the incident, that the people in that room were an exception. I can’t. I force myself to remember the passion I had, the unending fervor to protect the weaker. I can’t. I extend a hand to the innermost parts of my soul, trying to grasp those emotions, anything at all.
But I find nothing. No passion, no sadness, no happiness. Anger has long been worn off.
I am numb throughout, watching my life pass by while I’m a mere spectator. I barely register the supposedly cold water dripping on my back and the tiles underneath my feet. I must have been in the same position for over an hour now, but I cannot bring myself to move. The bathroom has been my favourite place to spend time this year. It’s the only place where I don’t have to pretend to feel.
Each day blends into the next, a routine of exorcisms and missions. Weeks turn into months, and the only remarkable event I can remember is that cursed day. Sleep is a rare comfort. My appetite is non existent. I struggle to maintain conversations for longer than five minutes. I constantly have the insatiable urge to crawl into the corner of a locked, dark room and let myself rot.
My body and mind cannot seem to cooperate. While the first craves to remain inert, the second traverses from thought to thought, trapping me in inescapable torture.
Riko’s youthful face is forming a warm smile, her eyes are downward crescents. She extends her hand towards me. I will grab it and then we’ll leave. Me, Gojou, Riko and Kuroi, together. Wherever we go, we’ll protect them. We promised. I promised.
I do not touch her hand in time.
I hear a deafening sound from my left. Crimson red liquid explodes from the side of her head before her body begins its tilted downfall. Her smile doesn’t falter though. Her expression is frozen, frozen in place, frozen in my mind. The scene plays on loop, she smiles, she extends her hand, I touch air, she smiles, she extends her hand, I touch air, she smiles, she extends her hand, I touch air…
Something is growing inside of me, an unpleasant warmth that I cannot yet define. It latches firmly on my gut and slowly, steadily, reaches out for my heart. It threatens to consume me whole. Let it.
The ring of the school bell momentarily pauses my thoughts. Finally, I can breathe.
They will resume at night.