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Gojo Satoru knew death very well. Too well for his liking.
After all, Gojo Satoru died three times.
》~{◇}~《
The first time he died, it didn’t feel bad at all.
Gojo had been killed, his consciousness was slipping away from him like sand or water, and the man that did so was walking away from him, a worm settled in his shoulders. A mere non-sorcerer, with a Heavenly Restriction, had killed one of the strongest– (and he probably was on his way to kill the other of the duo, but he didn’t know. Couldn’t know.)
He closed his eyes as he laid in the grass, finally noticing the burn of his eyelids. What would death feel like? A sweet dream? Would it taste like candy? Or would it be like putting on fake tears? He remembered when he had to, by Shoko’s orders. Suguru had held him as he struggled, yelling he didn’t want to. It won’t kill you, Satoru, he had said. Ironic.
Oh, Suguru. He would lie on his lap as soon as he saw him, demanding attention, and he’d be greeted by a warm smile and fingers running through his hair. “You know” he had said, “I’ll miss you.”
Satoru had only hummed as he asked about that. “You know this is a dream,” he had continued, “and you know you should wake up.”
“It will hurt,” he whined.
Suguru would only sigh in amusement, kissing his forehead, “I know. But when has Gojo Satoru not known how to go forwards?”
“This time I don’t” he admitted, looking for his hand and intertwining their fingers.
“I know you can figure it out,” he murmured, pulling his hand away, “if you don’t even try, there won’t be any more head massages.”
He whined and pouted, barely moving his head to the side, looking at the scene of reality, a Gojo laying dead in the grass– no, not dead yet. He wouldn’t be there if he was, would he? But he didn’t want to go. That was just Gojo, the Six Eyes user, but in Suguru’s arms, he was simply Satoru.
But the Suguru outside would become just Geto, wouldn’t he?
“There’s only one option.” His brain, despite running out of blood and everything, was working fast.
“There is” Suguru agreed.
“But I don’t know how to use it.”
“You can do it. Just think about it, you’re very smart.”
Cursed energy was formed by negative emotions, so it was called “negative energy” as well, and the Reversed Curse Technique was called “positive energy” –he had heard Shoko call it like that once. So he should do… the opposite?
If cursed energy is about death and destruction, the reversed curse technique is about life and creation.
He didn’t have the words to explain it, just like Shoko, but he understood, and that was the important thing. One second Suguru was massaging his temples and the next everything hurt, but he kept his head somewhere else– he was understanding, not only about the reverse cursed technique’s nature, but also about his own techniques, Limitless and Six Eyes, about the world itself and– and he felt he was reaching something he shouldn’t, that should feel wrong but it felt so, so right.
Then, everything was a cloud. It was too quick, too vague, he was on the floor and then on the sky and then he had something in his arms– no, someone, and Suguru– no, Geto was in front of him. He knew the image of his face, but he couldn’t tell what that expression was.
We should kill everyone here, shouldn’t we, Suguru? Just say yes. Say yes and I'll do it. I wouldn’t even feel a thing. Just say yes, Suguru.
No… no, Satoru. There’s no meaning in that.
That day, he had said his farewell to Riko, to Kuroi, even to his humanhood for a moment. Then, he had embraced the raw power and sheer godhood.
》~{◇}~《
The second time he died, it had been the most tortorous.
He had been a fool, an utter fool. How had he not noticed there was something wrong with Suguru? How? And there was a voice in his head that whispered in his ear awful things.
No, Satoru. You did noticed. You simply didn’t care.
No. No. That couldn’t be true, could it? Suguru was everything he had. Suguru meant the world to him. If he had noticed, he would’ve done something. Anything.
You knew he had lost weight. Did you even believe it was due to the heat?
Yes. He had believed, and he had hoped Suguru would tell him if there was something wrong– right? Satoru had always. He had told him everything, from how tired he was of the burden of being the Six Eyes, his fear of dying and of not being the strongest, not being worthy of keeping up with him, of how empty he felt if he wasn’t the strongest. Everything. He spilled secrets into his arms as easily as someone would spill water (or blood).
Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?
He had hoped. He had believed in every single word Suguru told him, every single word.
I’ll tell you if there’s something wrong, Satoru. Don’t worry.
Was it such a sin to trust?
Maybe he had known there was something wrong. The way Suguru sometimes ‘forgot’ to eat or to get up, or how he was stiff whenever Satoru hugged him, how he stopped touching him first, how he leaned away from his kisses saying that he hadn’t brushed his teeth. I don’t care, he said in a whisper. But I do. It’s gross.
He hadn’t pushed further, scared of breaking him like he crushed so many other things, scared of breaking what they had.
It hurts.
He felt he was dying and no one was there. Next time there wouldn’t be any Suguru waiting if he really was dying. Next time there wouldn’t be anyone to hug him tight when he felt he wasn’t enough, because how could one feel full when one had reached godhood and descended again to being a mortal? How could I feel full when only you made me full?
It hurts so much.
And, in the first place, how could he dare to let something happen to Suguru? He should’ve done something. He should’ve saved him from any threat, even if it was himself.
But looking at Suguru in that street, dressed in black and with his hair floating around his shoulders like the damn god he was, he looked so, so happy. Suguru had always had a beautiful smile, almost frowning when he laughed too hard, and he always liked kissing those lips curved upwards.
He couldn’t.
Suguru even laughed in that street, even if Satoru felt like dying. His insides were swirling in anxiety and desperation, he felt his heart in all the wrong places and he was sure that his neck would break from how tight a knot in his throat was. Was he happier now? Was he happier killing and being a war criminal? Was he better off without him? Was he the reason Suguru was hurting?
That day, he couldn’t say his farewell to Suguru, and he didn’t bother saying his farewell to Shoko, to Yaga, to Nanami, to the rest of the world. In exchange, he became the strongest, alone and in his own, a real god among mortals, revered and feared. If there was something he couldn’t do, then it was impossible. If there was someone that could stop a war criminal, it would be him. But he couldn’t. He was no god.
If he was, then their god was dead.
Satoru had died that day.
He died and got sent to hell to atone for his sins. Grey walls holding him back whenever he rested, reminding him of Suguru’s walls and white teeth smiling. A blur of curses and lights as he slayed whatever he was being sent to kill. But never Suguru. Never him.
Hell really was awful, capable of breaking a man. Even the strongest.
But he was still standing, no? He would– he would be okay. Gojo was the strongest. He would figure out something to do, to fix everything. He was strong. He could do it, nothing would be impossible if he did it. He was strong.
I can only save those who want to be saved.
》~{◇}~《
“Satoru! Look at this!”
He turned, frowning and covering his eyes from the sun, and lit up when he saw Suguru’s smile. The boy was holding something, and he stilled as he put it in his temples. It was a… rock?
Suguru pondered for a while before beaming where he stood, some water drops running through his cheek as they fell from his silky black hair. “I knew it! This is the shade of your eyes! Look!”
He leaned to see, and well, it was the closer one could expect to find in a river. It was summer and both had rolled up their pants to their knees, letting the cold water hug their ankles. “You really are cute, Suguru” he let out, not really thinking.
Suguru had just blushed and made a single smooth move with his foot to completely soak him. A moment later, he was letting out a yell as Satoru splashed him with water as well. “You asshole! It’s fucking cold!”
“You started!”
They had fun running and laughing when they got the other completely wet, before being splashed themselves, and Satoru couldn’t say why, but his heart hurt whenever Suguru did so much as laugh at him, so free and light there were starting to be tears of joy. Maybe it was just that it hurt that he was so beautiful– there wasn’t a fitting word for him. Maybe gorgeous or precious or work of art, but those could be applied to something else, and Suguru was unique. In his opinion, he deserved to be worshiped and caressed with all the gentleness the world had to offer.
So when they finally laid in the grass to dry up, he couldn’t help but admire him, hesitantly reaching to stroke his cheek. His skin was always smooth, his hair softer than silk, his lips always shining with lip gloss he loved to put in– one that he had begged to borrow, and Suguru always sighed before pressing their lips together, saying there there, now we’re sharing. Happy? And he felt his heart drop to the floor. But he hadn’t even reached the best part– his eyes. Hazel brown, light and full of life, that reminded him of the most delicious treat, sweet and… and simply the definition of perfection. They were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. If he had to choose between his life and protecting the boy’s eyes, he’d say thank you as he dug his grave.
God, he was weak for that man.
He slowly leaned in to kiss him, so softly, so gently, so lovingly, as he deserved. And Suguru simply hummed and leaned closer, in something so sweet he would give up all the candy in the world just to feel it again. He loved that boy.
“I love you too” Suguru had answered, and he realized he had said that outloud. Satoru just chuckled and he took something from his pocket without showing him, and pressed it to his temples.
“Ah, what a shame. I knew there wasn’t anything that could compare to you.”
Satoru showed the brown rock to Suguru, who melted in his place with a smile. “It’s quite close though.”
“But it’s not it” he pouted, and Suguru giggled and kissed him again.
Satoru could do nothing but melt as well, thinking what god had he pleased in his previous life to be born in the same time period as Suguru had, and even better, to meet him. And being loved back? He must be dreaming.
“You’re staring” Suguru said softly, barely a whisper. A shiver ran down his spine.
“I think I’m sick.”
“I told you not to lay on the river–”
“Lovesick.”
Suguru looked surprised before smiling. “You silly. How many times have I said that I love you as well?”
“Maybe you should remind me.”
And Suguru kissed him again– not as softly as before, pushing past his lips and devouring him like if he was just a candy for him, and Satoru sighed and hugged him by the neck, pulling him closer as he tried to keep up, his stomach swirling with butterflies. When it was over, the other boy pressed their foreheads together, and he noticed he was being hugged by the waist. Huh. Alright. He wasn't complaining.
“You’re loved. Very loved.”
“By who?”
“Me. I love you. I’ll never get tired of saying it.”
Satoru smiled impossibly wider, staring directly into his lover’s eyes. “You know, I heard something that reminded me of you.”
“What thing?”
“That hazel brown eyes used to shine like the moon, and to hide them, they got bathed in heaven’s honey.”
“That’s incredibly sweet. And fucking sappy.”
Gojo chuckled. “But it's true. I love your eyes.”
“And the rest of me? How awful…”
Satoru shut him off with another kiss. God, he loved doing that.
Everything felt so right, so very right he suspected he was dreaming.
And laying in the ground, dust surrounding him, blood flowing out of him, he really was.
He was glad though. He hadn’t been able to dream in a good while, maybe ten years, or at least nothing as peaceful. He’d love to have another moment of enlightenment, like the first time he died, but nothing was coming to him, just a flush of memories and emotions.
For the first time in perhaps a very, very long time, he was scared of dying. Before, he was always scared of Suguru dying, but he was already gone. In his place, there was an imposter who pretended to be that man, but he could tell. How wouldn’t he?
I don't want to die yet.
His students, the very last thing he could say he cherished– they still needed him. The world was all too cruel and dangerous for them right now, and a part of him wanted to crawl back and protect them from whatever, just like he always did. He remembered that he had consoled Megumi once, after his sister fell into a coma. Gojo was never a good father, not even a good guardian, losing everything he ever loved, but he learned from his mistakes (sometimes). He pushed softly, staying despite the boy’s anger and sadness, and he let down Infinity for him. The boy had fought until he was tired, and crumbled in his place, crying as Gojo held him like he had held Suguru all those times ago.
And now Sukuna had possessed him.
He failed Megumi.
He remembered when the news that Nanami left the jujutsu world hit him: he hadn’t been surprised, but hurt nonetheless. He just… he was glad he didn’t do it the way Suguru had. And Nobara– she had all the joy that he sometimes lacked. Yes, he was happy with his students, but the youth was simply at another level on that. The girl dragged him shopping and asked him to train her every once in a while, and he just knew Suguru would have loved her. She was fun to be around, but also serious whenever she needed to be. A mix the two of them loved.
And they both died.
He failed them as well.
The world was being destroyed by curses and Sukuna was free to do anything, and he wondered if he was too late. He was always late.
Satoru… you’re late, Suguru had said as he bleeded out.
But there was someone alive. Yuuji was still there, with the rest, fighting for everything they deemed right, and he sincerely hoped they were stronger than him– they already were, more than he ever was. He hoped they could kill Sukuna, even if he wasn’t around to see it. The pink-haired boy was just like Suguru, from time to time. He was cheerful and energetic, but he had moments where he broke and fell off. When he was dead for the world, hiding in his basement, he once got sad, the sort of sadness he had seen in Suguru’s eyes. Do you think they’ll want to see me, Gojo-sensei? What do you think they’ll say? he had asked. They’ll be happy, Yuuji. Maybe they’ll be angry, but above everything, they’ll be glad you’re okay. They love you just as much as you love them.
He was never that good with words. It just scared him that he ended up like Suguru. But it scared him even more to make another mistake, so he just hugged the boy like he should have hugged his own lover.
And now, all that happiness was gone, a scarred boy in its place, traumatized beyond repair.
He failed Yuuji so miserably.
Maybe he didn’t really have a reason to be anymore.
Just let go, my love.
Suguru’s words stung his still beating heart. He wouldn’t be able to dream with Suguru anymore, would he? Not like when he died that first time. Now, it was definitive.
Before, he said his farewell to something for another. Now, he said his farewell to everything– Shinjuku’s sky, his students, his worries and fears to welcome–
Well, he’d dream before sleeping, at last.
》~{♡}~《
He had arrived long, long ago.
He had seen everything that happened, cursing and mourning the suffering that undeserving people had to go through. From a certain point onwards, he stopped looking. Whenever they arrived, they’d tell him. He just hoped that it wasn’t that soon.
Flowers filled his vision, a sky so blue it was almost purple and the most beautiful of flowers that reminded him of his lover. He wondered often how he’d be, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer too soon. Hoping he wouldn’t.
He made flower crowns with his free time (which was everyday), one for every friend he had, and the students from Jujutsu High, whether he met them or not, gifting them one as he welcomed them, soothing their pain and worries. And, to be honest, not always he was satisfied with the result, so he started another one from scratch. And it was alright. He would be bored if he didn’t.
He cut a flower from the stem and brought it to his face to smell it. He was getting so many memories…
A petal flew into the wind.
Lazily, he followed it with his eyes, standing once turning wasn’t enough. And oh…
》~{♡}~《
When he turned, he was met with a face way too familiar.
He looked surprised, but then a warm smile washed over his face. He could feel his own eyes start to burn.
“Satoru” his own name rolled down the man’s tongue so nicely, with a fondness and gentleness the imposter could never imitate.
“...Suguru?” he asked, with a broken voice and shaky breaths. He felt that it had started to rain, but the man’s clothing wasn’t wet at all.
Suguru had smiled wider, and raised his arms. “Come on, come here.”
He almost tackled him in a hug, embracing him with both arms and legs like a koala. His face and neck were wet, and he didn’t know whose sobs were those. Maybe both of them.
Suguru stroked his back and moved to his hair, giving him rubs so gente, so caring, that he could only cry louder. His name was a prayer he held into like a lifeline, and he knew right there and then that Suguru was his religion, the very person he’d be on his knees for, and that he’d worship as he saw fit. After all, he knew as well that he was in paradise.
Hell was anywhere his god wasn’t, and he had lived through it for ten years.
But now, at last, he found peace.
“Suguru.”
“Hm?”
Satoru held his hands, and as he stroked one with his thumb, he kissed the other, taking his time with each knuckle of each finger, his palm and wrist, peppering kisses upwards through his arm, shoulder, neck (and Suguru hummed in delight, and Satoru swore he was dying again– but it felt nicer than ever before) until meeting his face. He kissed his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, his ear, his cheek again, the edges of his mouth, before a full-on kiss, so loving he could taste something salty, and he couldn’t tell from who it was coming from.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Suguru.”
“Hm?”
“I was wrong. Heaven’s honey can’t compare to your eyes. They’re prettier and sweeter.”
“Oh, you smooth talker. Come here.”