[suguru thinks, at first, that satoru has simply left the area.
because that would be the smart thing to do, wouldn't it? satoru, slipping outside of suguru's far more limited range simply because he can—except that, as suguru closes his eyes to better focus on his surroundings, suguru senses the faintest trace of cursed energy. something known, albeit at a much, much higher level.
and there is the thought—the singular thought—of ignoring this, for it could be a trap—and if it isn't, then it could be a boon. one less thing to worry about, in this train full of individuals undeserving of suguru's time and/or attention. an opportunity that suguru could and should take full advantage of, because satoru made his choice; it is only fitting that he accept the consequences.
(but suguru thinks of satoru's offer, just as he thinks of sukuna's indifference; of satoru texting him late at night, asking him to play yet another game; of mimiko and nanako by his side a few short months before, all three of them basking in the sunlight on their balcony. who's satoru gojo, anyway?)
...the most difficult decisions can sometimes be the easiest to make. or so suguru tells himself, anyway, as he summons one of his oldest curses, sitting upon its back as it sails toward satoru's weakening signature. he expects to find satoru in peril? to find some monster dragging satoru toward its den—but what suguru finds, as his curse drifts toward the ground, is something as surprising as it is painfully familiar: satoru sprawled atop the grass, breath slow and even. satoru, asleep.
and as suguru slips from his curse's back to the forest floor, suguru knows this: were he to set a curse upon satoru's prone form, satoru would be none the wiser. satoru, the most powerful sorcerer the world has seen in generations, would die without so much as a whimper—and suguru's family, suguru's goals, suguru's world. all would be safe.
and yet.
suguru kneels beside satoru, first holding his hand beneath satoru's nostrils—feeling for air, that steady in-and-out—before allowing his fingers to drift to the side, coming to rest just beneath satoru's blindfold. no barrier. suguru's fingertips press against warm, soft skin, and he is once again reminded that he could end this here—
—just as he is reminded of all those lazy afternoons spent in one another's company, if not one another's bed. suguru, taking full advantage of the privileges afforded to him; satoru, granting suguru more as he rambled on about anything and everything. they were a pair, once.
they were a pair.
suguru's summon disappears, spiraling back to suguru without the slightest sound; it is, at least, one less thing for suguru to worry about as hooks an arm about satoru's torso, dragging him—awkwardly—toward the trunk of a particularly large tree. he wonders if satoru has always been so heavy? he wonders if perhaps he missed that last bit of satoru's growth.
ah, well. nothing to do about it now, especially as suguru finally, blessedly, reaches the shade he'd been aiming for. this, at least, should be comfortable—or, more accurately: this, at least, should be comfortable enough, which is why sugru deigns to sit upon the ground. the trunk at his back is rough, bordering on unpleasant; he can hear a korogu calling to him from somewhere above, that annoying ya-ha-ha! echoing in this otherwise silent space, but—
—but. satoru sleeps soundly, presumably suffering from too much activity performed on too little sleep; suguru watches him for a time, still weighing his options, before finding himself drawing satoru that much closer. satoru's head in his lap, cradled by his robes—this wouldn't have felt odd, once. it would have felt anything but, considering the trust that once existed between them.
now, however, as suguru peers down at satoru's still face—as suguru peels down the blindfold satoru has chosen to wear, allowing it to pool about satoru's neck—suguru will admit: this is odd. cradling the man who killed him—he should, at the very least, return the favor. for his sake; for his family's sake.
except that there are so many other things to take into consideration—which is why suguru remains still? why suguru sets his curses about the perimeter of this glade; why suguru permits himself to enjoy this moment for what it is, until the person in his lap begins to stir. it's inevitable. suguru did not expect satoru to sleep forever, even if it would make suguru's life so much easier.
but here they are. here satoru is, blinking awake—and so, as suguru watches those brilliant eyes focus on their surroundings, suguru offers, somewhat amusedly:]
Good morning.
[one hand rests within his robes, just above satoru's head; the other is balled into the loose fist that suguru is leaning against as he peers at the person below him—but he remains relaxed. easy. posing no obvious threat as he offers satoru the slightest of smiles, because look who holds—has held—the power here.]
He felt it when he neared his limit: the wall looming before him, impossible to scale, the barrier that would keep him from carrying on as is. He tried to avoid it — did his best to balance the usage of his techniques with occasional, sporadic rest — but the threats that exist on this train prevented him from letting down his guard in full. He kept his Infinity active, stayed awake to monitor the movements of Suguru and Sukuna both, and attempted to map out in his mind just how much each of his technique drained from his dwindling supply of energy. Every ability cost more than he remembered, the price of his attacks having scaled with his power, outgrowing the limits that Satoru thought he left behind in his youth — for good.
You'll fry your brain, Shoko told him all those years ago.
It was the headache that warned him. Satoru thought he had more time, that the occasional nap would keep his inevitable exhaustion at bay. But when the headache hit, he realized he had calculated his time incorrectly; he saw he was at a point of no return.
He planned to get away from all possible threats — to remove himself from his surroundings long enough to recharge, far away from where anyone could sense him, so no one would take advantage of his inability to keep his technique running. If he could avoid tipping anyone off, then it was possible for nothing to happen in his absence, the passengers saved out of ignorance for his situation. But instead of making it to some distant cave or tucked away alcove, Satoru simply hit his wall: he collapsed, his body forcing him to do what he neglected.
He sleeps deeply, unhindered by his techniques, and when he awakens, it's with the confusion that settles upon emerging out of a long and relentless rest, where time and place feel muddled. Threat doesn't register; he feels only the soft padding of a lap beneath his head, the warmth of another body keeping watch. There's a subtle scent of something unidentifiable yet familiar, as if plucked from the comfort of his youth.
Satoru opens his eyes, and as awareness dawns upon him, sees only a memory.]
Suguru...
[Spoken softly, voice tempered by sleep, surprise flitting across his features, approaching something like wonder as his hand rises from the ground as if to touch — as if to confirm his tangibility. The moment is instantaneous and fleeting, barely worth acknowledging, his hand only making it just above the grass — and then it passes. But within that brief span of time, Satoru thinks, Is it really you?, and reality settles upon him once more.
It is really Suguru. His body is whole, untouched by death. The words he speaks are his own, that teasing Good Morning entirely Suguru in tone and intent. There is no one else wearing his flesh, using his voice. This is the same Suguru who once chided Satoru for the way he spoke — the same Suguru who once turned away. This is the Suguru who sat beside him in the Museum, who said, I think you're tired, and considered what that meant — who sat and watched Satoru blindly seek his eyes, alone.
This is the Suguru whose body Satoru once stood over. He had wanted to reach out then, too, his hand twitching at his side.
Satoru looks at Suguru for the first time since ending his life, his eyes unobscured, and sees him.
And it sinks in: that he has been found. That he is vulnerable, without his Infinity, held in Suguru's lap, while Suguru watches over him — capable of doing anything he pleases. Satoru slept for however long, while Suguru held vigil and allowed him to awaken. He could have easily been killed, held close like this, with nothing to shield him. Satoru was — is — unprotected and alone.
And Suguru did nothing.
But Suguru doing nothing before means nothing in the now, and Satoru's sluggish brain presents to him the option: Suguru is biding his time. Suguru wanted him to witness his new shortcomings, to face his own humanity, to see that he will bleed as easily as any other human. Suguru's smile is a knife at his throat, a poison on his lips, a curse lodged within his heart.
He feels an unbidden jolt of adrenaline, an unwanted rush that attempts to push him into action.
And Satoru ignores it.
He smiles, slowly, crookedly, and for a moment longer, leaves himself free of his Infinity. He remains touchable, vulnerable, capable of being wounded, and bares his throat to get a better look at the man who stayed with him when he could have destroyed him, as if to acknowledge him for thinking about it, as if to say, I know you thought of it. I know you considered.
As if to remind him: But you didn't.
Satoru rests his hand back on the ground, his fingers nestling in the grass, and he says:]
You're late.
[Late to find Satoru in his weakened state. Late to take advantage. Late to give Satoru the gift that Satoru once gave to him.
Late to emerge from death to reclaim his body.
Suguru is late for everything, and Satoru, feeling him breathe in and out, staring up into eyes that are no longer lifeless, no longer controlled by someone else entirely —
More than anything else, Satoru is glad to see him.]
[it's a rare treat, watching satoru slowly blink awake. the sort of privilege reserved only for those satoru trusts, because to sleep in another's presence is to be vulnerable—and this is not that, of course. satoru had no say in this—but even all these years later, suguru still remembers waking up together? hitting the snooze button again and again until satoru, forced to accept the inevitability that was rolling out of bed, finally cracked his eyes open, revealing slivers of the most brilliant blue. those were the mornings suguru liked best, though they disrupted his routine (and, more than once, made them both late for something or another). what better way to start the day.
(and what better way to end it. satoru, standing before him in that alley, holding his gaze while ending his life. the last thing suguru saw was blue, blue, blue.)
from the corner of his eye, suguru registers the slight movement of satoru's hand—and suguru knows that this is hardly the time for nostalgia. they are both vulnerable, like this? suguru presents a clear and present danger that satoru could, should, separate himself from as quickly as possible; it would be easy for a somewhat sluggish satoru to take advantage of their close proximity, but—
suguru.
something about satoru's tone gives suguru pause—or maybe it's the way satoru stares up at him, as though he isn't quite believing what he's seeing. that's fair. this may not be their first meeting on this train, but this is, suguru realizes, the first time satoru has seen him since killing him. and how does that feel? to be confronted by the sight of an enemy, an old friend, a ghost made real. suguru supposes that he should feel satisfied, at the very least; there certainly is something, mm, darkly humorous about this turn of events, and yet, as suguru allows satoru this chance to study him, suguru ignores the sudden urge to sweep satoru's messy hair from his forehead. he would have, once. there would have been no question as to whether or not satoru would welcome his touch.
now, however, even as satoru's techniques remain dormant, suguru is not sure which would be worse: satoru allowing suguru to touch him, or satoru finding his fingers stopping just short of satoru's skin.
...so suguru does nothing, aside from take in the smile satoru offers? the ease with which satoru tilts his head back, almost as if he is as comfortable in suguru's lap now as he may have been a decade ago. and suguru knows it's a show, of sorts; this is satoru making a point that suguru acknowledges with only a quirk of his brow. of course he didn't. he a reason for being here, and said reason involves satoru, alive and well.
but as for being late:]
Am I? [hmm. he straightens, allowing his hand to fall to his knee as he pretends to consider just how late he may, in fact, be.] I did run into a few obstacles along the way.
[obstacles, ranging from these cars' wacky tasks to an unplanned death. nothing is certain.]
How long did I keep you waiting?
[the answer, of course, should be no time at all—because if satoru had a lick of sense, satoru would have stopped waiting for suguru after watching suguru disappear into a crowd.]
[In prolonging the lapse of his Infinity, Satoru had been making a point to Suguru. But as he keeps it down long enough for Suguru to react with the lifting of an eyebrow and a question of his own, the point is turned back around on him. Taking in the once-familiar feeling of Suguru's lap beneath his head, Satoru is flirting with his own vulnerabilities. Like this, Satoru is not only weak for being touchable; he is also weak for remembering what this closeness once meant.
Suguru holding him in his lap now is a show of power — of what he could have done, before Satoru woke up, and what he could still try to do, before Satoru finishes pushing away the fog of sleep. Awake, Satoru is a threat, and his reaction time will not suffer too much for being groggy — but his energy is still low, and a nap can only undo so much of the strain he has placed on himself.
But this has the strange effect of tainting memory — surmounting countless recollections of Satoru waking up with his head in Suguru's lap, on his shoulder, on his pillow — with a singular memory of Suguru looking down at him with unknown intentions. Suguru is watching over him because he chose to allow Satoru to live, despite the last time they looked at each other — despite Satoru's unspoken promise that they will look at each other like that again, if Suguru doesn't take him up on his offer.
Satoru has spent so much time buffered from the outside world, that to exist wholly within it — to feel the grass tickling his fingers, the cool earth beneath him, and the presence of someone above him — is dangerous because it shows Satoru what he's missed. It shows Satoru who he has missed, and proves that he will miss him again.
(Suguru had asked him once, those years ago, if he did. If he would.)
So when Satoru attempts to cocoon himself in his Infinity once again, it is less to protect himself from Suguru, and more to protect himself from the way this feels — to keep himself focused on the distance that exists between them.
Except his Infinity remains sluggish, slow to respond, the nap having only gone so far in replenishing his energy. Instinctually, he attempts his self-reverse, but that technique remains dormant. So it takes more effort than Satoru usually exerts to finally activate his Infinity — enough that it causes a slight crease along his forehead, a tell that wouldn't be visible if he were wearing his blindfold.
He covers for his lapse by pulling away. He sits up, yawns — and finally, his technique activates. Infinity surrounds him once more, and so protected, Satoru faces Suguru again.]
Long enough that I got tired of waiting.
[Which says nothing really. Satoru isn't exactly patient, and historically, has always been less so where Suguru is concerned, especially when his own weaknesses were still in play. How many times after a mission, when Suguru finally made his way to his room, had Satoru frowned at him and asked, What took you so long?
It's easier, though, to say it this way: vaguely, as though Satoru could simply be talking about this very incident. Instead of saying: I never stopped waiting. Instead of looking at the prospect of Suguru refusing the terms that Satoru presented in the Museum, and admitting: I never will.
Not everything ends in death. Satoru knows there are some things he cannot kill.
And so he pulls his blindfold back over his eyes, and focuses on what has proven to be killable — and yet, still somehow persisting.]
Thought you made other plans.
[Suguru rescuing Satoru from a nap out in the open had not been part of either of their plans, but Satoru knows that is was not simply a gesture of goodwill. Suguru would not have spent the days since their last meeting languishing; he would have explored his options. He would have thought through what Satoru told him. Suguru isn't rash — a fact that stings even now, when he considers what that meant for his departure from the school. And Satoru.
Suguru being here means he made a decision. And since Satoru is still breathing, it's easy to guess at what will come next.]
But you made it.
[And that, at least, means that the small measure of trust that Satoru showed him — the risk he took — wasn't misplaced. Suguru will have his own reasons for agreeing to what Satoru has presented, and will likely have his own terms, but this still means something. It shows restraint, not unlike the restraint he showed during his final play, when he refrained from killing young sorcerers.
It shows he wasn't wrong: Suguru can do this again.]
[it's been quite some time since suguru allowed someone so dangerous so close. their oh-so brief meeting in the museum car was on somewhat steadier ground, thanks in no small part to satoru's missing eyes; suguru had several (admittedly risky) options—but now, whatever power he possessed from the time he pulled satoru beneath this tree to the moment satoru opened his eyes is slipping through his fingers. or, more accurately: said power is currently split between the two of them. either one could turn this into something it does not need to be.
but suguru, ever watchful, notes that barely noticeable furrow of satoru's brow. the sort of thing others would think nothing of, if they noticed it at all—and yet suguru sees it as what it is: strain. satoru pushing himself right back to the brink, which brings to mind all manner of familiar questions. how long ago did you sleep? not nap; sleep. have you eaten? has this happened before?
voicing such things, however, seems ill-advised. it's highly unlikely that satoru will respond with the honesty he would have a decade before—and so suguru remains silent, still, as satoru pulls away, allowing him to reestablish some manner of distance between them. a necessity, these days.
but suguru's slight smile remains in place, as though he's amused, as ever, by satoru's infamous impatience. maybe he is, on some level. he always did favor that which others found annoying, especially when it came to satoru—and there is also the underlying knowledge that, no matter how impatient satoru is, satoru had little choice but to wait for this. with sukuna on the train, what other options does satoru have? suguru could have taken far, far longer to find his way to satoru's side.
and yet here he is. early, some might say, but of course nothing is ever early enough for satoru.]
Someone had to find you.
[better me than sukuna. unspoken words left hanging between them, for a moment, as suguru twists about, reaching for something off to his right, hidden in the tree's shadow. another risky move, but also a calculated one: exposing his once-wounded side to satoru like this is a sign that he does not intend to try anything dangerous.]
And I was curious, [he admits, almost lightly, as he sits back up—and promptly tosses a good-sized apple satoru's way. not the sort of sugary treat satoru prefers, but when one is stuck in a car like this, one makes do.] You never explained what you wanted.
[or: this is the time to lay all the cards on the table.]
[Separated like this and encased in his Infinity, Satoru has regained his upper hand. He is once again untouchable and alert — capable of reacting to even the barest hint of a threat with an instantaneous activation of his techniques. However tired he may be, however quickly it may drain his sparse energy, in this moment, he is once again The Strongest.
But though he has pulled himself from Suguru's grasp, Suguru still holds something vital in his hands — something that can be exploited, now that he has a better sense of Satoru's limitations. And the words that Suguru tosses out there confirm it: Someone had to find you.
Someone worse could have found him. Sukuna would not have hesitated to kill him where he rested. Satoru would have been an easy victim. And now Suguru has a sense of why he was tired and worried in the museum — why Satoru suggested that Suguru set everything aside so they could work together.
So someone could cover for his lapse. So someone else could keep an eye on the train. So he could simply sleep.
Suguru's decision to allow Satoru to live means he has chosen Satoru over his other options. But it does not mean he will approach this without demands of his own. It does not mean that negotiations will go smoothly — and that he will not take this blatant demonstration of weakness and carry it with him until the next too close call.
But Satoru responds to Suguru's movement, to the knowledge that Suguru now holds, and to Suguru's words the way that Satoru responds to all things — easily. He lazily pulls one leg to himself and half-extends the other one, his foot not too far from where Suguru still sits, a gesture of his own: Suguru is not out of reach.
Not anymore. For better or for worse.
And yet, as he follows the careful movement of Suguru's body, given full vantage of the arm that he once lost — the arm that Satoru suspects he was missing in the museum — Satoru feels the weight of their last conversation settle in his chest once more. Suguru may be moving slowly, methodically, without the air of a threat, but this still feels personal — it still feels like a reminder.
He thinks of Suguru's final moments. Behind his blindfold, while Suguru's attention is elsewhere, Satoru briefly closes his eyes.
And then he opens them again, in time to fluidly catch the apple — and isn't this, too, a kind of attack? Suguru offering him something sweet yet healthy, as though it's a perfectly natural thing for him to do. As though slipping back in time.
Satoru looks down at it, running his thumb over the waxy surface, and thinks, childishly, that this is a low blow. Suguru tossing him an apple feels more like a power move than the act of holding a vulnerable Satoru in his lap.
The apple feels less like a peace offering and more like a weapon that Suguru knows Satoru will allow into his Infinity — meant to twist into concealed places that Suguru himself can't reach.
But because he is, unfailingly, still himself:]
An apple? [He makes a face, like this is a disappointment, when in reality, it's too much.] Is this 'cause you think I'm skipping my fruits and veggies?
[He is! Of course he is. But he follows up his words with a hearty bite, and is immediately grateful. He hasn't had anything sweet since the dog car, so the apple might as well be candy.
Then, after swallowing, he sighs and once again looks down at the apple — at the singular bite marring the red surface.]
You already know what I want. [Not only in the sense that Satoru has already suggested they work together, but also in that his terms and conditions are obvious. Suguru has likely already thought them through. But he speaks them out loud anyway.] Work with me. Stick to jujutsu sorcerer rules and regulations for a while. That's it.
[He says it as though it's easy — after all, Suguru did it before. But he knows that for Suguru, it is not easy at all. And he knows that the way he's framed it, specifically indicating that Suguru will, for a time, technically be acting as a jujutsu sorcerer, presents it in a worse light.
But Satoru has gone over all of the other possibilities, and they are too open-ended. He cannot tell Suguru not to hurt anyone, because Suguru must be able to defend himself and others. He cannot tell Suguru he can hurt others within reason, because Suguru may use his loose language to find loopholes.
This is the only way to ensure that Suguru cannot find an easy way out. The jujutsu sorcerer regulations are strict, if a little outdated. And even though Satoru has his qualms with some of them, they provide an easy framework upon which to base his terms.]
[things used to be so simple between them. gestures were mindless—but now even the smallest gestures have meaning? layers. suguru tossing this apple to satoru is suguru reminding satoru that they knew one another, once; that suguru remembers satoru eating sweets to replenish some of the energy his techniques drained from him; that this is not the first time suguru has witnessed satoru pushing himself too far. ten years ago, this apple would have been a kindness. one friend looking out for the other. it would have been accompanied by a concerned look, by suguru leaning close enough to ask those questions that remain lodged in the back of his mind.
but now suguru merely releases an amused breath as satoru complains about this too-healthy snack. no matter how many friends satoru makes on this train—no matter how powerful they prove to be—the truth of the matter is this: no one here knows satoru like suguru. this apple is further proof of suguru's value.
(and at its core, buried but still there, is another truth: concern. suguru always did concern himself with satoru's well-being; maybe some habits are hard to break. maybe this apple is a sort of kindness after all.)
there is, however, no sense in speaking of it, because suguru awaits the terms he's certain will follow—and follow they do, spoken in that unbothered tone. stick to jujutsu sorcerer rules and regulations for a while. no surprises there, though as suguru tilts back against this tree, turning this deceptively simple sentence over and over again in his mind, suguru sees the cleverness behind it. satoru, seeking to trap suguru within the confines of a neat little box. suguru wonders how many times satoru went over this in his mind, ensuring that there were no angles for suguru to exploit.
...well. it's as commendable as it is galling.
but suguru has thought of this? has spent days coming to terms with the idea of conforming to the rules he's long since turned away from. all that he's done, after finding the girls in that cage—allowing satoru to place this yoke about his neck continues to, and will always, feel like a violation of what geto holds dear.
and yet it's the girls suguru thinks of as he offers up an almost contemplative hum, his expression still. there is no distaste to be seen; there is simply suguru, perfectly composed, watching satoru's every move.]
"A while."
[a question, of sorts, because how long is that? until they find the conductor? until they find a way off this train? something suguru wants set in stone for obvious reasons, but as that is an easy enough thing to work into his own terms, he allows it to stand. for the time being. he has another, more important question to ask, and so, mildly:]
And what do you think I want in return?
[he's curious, honestly. even if this results in satoru-brand flippancy.]
[Though the apple may as well have been plucked from their shared history — a reminder of what was, a breaching of past into present as he and Suguru discuss an arrangement that would have been a given the last time Suguru tossed Satoru a treat — it does its job. Satoru takes another bite and feels better for it. The taste alone is refreshing, and the sugars should take the edge off the strain of keeping his Infinity active.
But after the second bite, Satoru rests his hand on his knee, the apple held loosely in his fingers. If left like this, half-eaten, the flesh exposed to the air, it would soon brown. Some things aren't meant to be exposed and left out in the open — and that's a lesson that Satoru learned the hard way, when he looked upon a Suguru who was not Suguru at all.
Hence he says nothing more about the apple, draws no attention to the way it feels to hold something he once took for granted, and allows it to become an afterthought.
He does similarly with the the repetition of his chosen words, a while, letting them hang in the air without clarification. If Satoru had it his way, a while would extend beyond this train, to wherever they ended up next. Not only as a means of protecting the passengers and anyone else they may encounter thereafter, but also as a means of protecting Suguru. This is a second chance of sorts; they can do better. Suguru can do better.
And Satoru, who missed far too much when they were students, could do better too. He's spent the last ten years of his life trying to make a difference — trying to raise students to upend the jujutsu system and prevent it from harming future generations. Of course he'd want to prevent Suguru from becoming a victim again — while actively preventing him from victimizing anyone else in the process.
But he knows that a while can only be stretched so far.
Satoru exhales, the sound loud, amounting to a dramatic ehhh as he considers Suguru's question and how much hinges on his agreement. Everyone always assumes that everything comes so easy to Satoru, and they aren't wrong — Satoru masters everything he touches, and loses very little in the process. But there are some situations that exist outside of his proficiency; there are some successes that come with a cost.
Satoru didn't know what to say to Suguru all those years ago to keep him at his side. It didn't matter how deeply he knew Suguru, nor how strongly he cared, Satoru missed something vital. Suguru walked away.
Faced with this question now, Satoru looks at Suguru and says:]
You get me.
[It is flippant, teasing, but also utterly serious: he gets Satoru in his corner. He gets spared another death at Satoru's hands. Satoru was once enough for Suguru, just as a tossed apple would have once been enough for Satoru.
But they both know that is no longer the case. If Satoru had been enough, Suguru wouldn't have turned away.]
How about I throw in a seed too?
[He only has one, nestled in his pocket, earned before his impromptu nap when he answered the innocent question: What is the stupidest thing you've done?
It seems fair to give that one to Suguru, so he doesn't wait for an answer. He digs it out from his pocket and tosses it at him.
Not that he thinks a joke will pass as something resembling a negotiation. Like the terms he presented to Suguru, Satoru has also considered what Suguru will want in exchange for his cooperation.
It's easier, though, to toss a seed like an apple and pretend that it could be enough.]
[you get me. that would be enough in their world, given that satoru is a constant roadblock, an obstacle suguru must find ways around; it's almost enough in this world, for similar reasons—but as suguru's eyes fall, pointedly, to the apple in satoru's hand, suguru makes another silent point: satoru is no longer a cheat code given human form. oh, he's still dangerous! he's still powerful! he's still an opponent suguru stands little chance of besting.
but satoru can no longer afford to stand alone. they're both hobbled, on this train; satoru needs suguru just as suguru needs satoru, and that gives suguru some degree of leverage.
enough, he hopes. just enough.
his expression, however, remains unchanged, even as he neatly catches the seed satoru lobs his way. a gift for a gift, he supposes. a gesture for a gesture, in that this seed represents what could be: the two of them pooling their resources, finding ways to meet even the most ridiculous objectives. two heads were—are—better than one.
and yet.]
Only one? Maybe you've forgotten what it's like to work with others.
[maybe it's been too long since satoru has teamed up with anyone at all. a low blow, of sorts—but suguru holds this single seed in the palm of his hand, much as he held the charm a few days before. working together means doing more than the bare minimum? suguru's cooperation is worth far more than satoru simply coasting.
(and suguru knows that satoru is aware of this; satoru wants off this train every bit as badly as suguru does, suguru is sure, but there is a weight to all of this. adhering to satoru's rules, even temporarily, does not come easy.)]
Honesty would be a better start. [start. implying that there is more, because of course there is—but as they will work their way to it, suguru says:] I'd need to know your limits.
[all that satoru has access to and all that satoru does not, thanks to this train. satoru's vulnerabilities—which could come back to bite him, depending on the length of this binding vow, but that is the cost of teamwork.]
[Satoru doesn't miss the glance that Suguru affords the apple, nor the meaning behind it, though the point itself is rubbing salt in a wound that Satoru is already aware he has. He will yawn, stretch, and munch on an apple as though waking up with his head in Suguru's lap is easily dismissed, a mere blip in Satoru's overall plan to escape the train, but the potential cost of his weaknesses remain in the forefront of his mind. And he knows he's not the only one who will bear it.
Which is exactly why he's still sitting here — why he invited Suguru to sit next to him in the first place, back in the museum. And why, when Suguru requests honesty as part of their exchange, Satoru resists the knee-jerk urge to make light of it, and offers:]
I'd have to tell you.
[If he could potentially hold this information close to his chest, Satoru would. Admitting his vulnerabilities is as dangerous as Suguru knowing he was missing his eyes in the museum. It is something that Suguru can use against him once that undefined time of a while expires. And if they leave this train and Satoru remains altered as he is now, unable to reclaim his techniques, the risk will be even greater. Sharing this information can — and likely will — come back to bite him.
But telling Suguru would be for his own benefit as well. Without his self-reverse, Satoru can't heal. That means that if he finds himself weakened, tired, or otherwise affected by the train, he could be injured. He could be killed. There would be no coming back from a mortal wound.
If they are to work together, Suguru will need to know that — to understand the importance of Satoru resting somewhere safe. To assist, if Satoru calls him after an encounter with Sukuna or someone equally unpleasant. To act, if Satoru is unresponsive. To realize that if their time working together comes to an end, Suguru will not be able to take back anything he does thereafter — a burden that he will carry forever, as Satoru does his.
He has no choice but to hand this over, and admitting as much is already a step in the direction of honesty. A gesture, which he follows up with a bite of the apple, as if to acknowledge Suguru's unspoken point: he can't stand alone anymore, and he can't afford to refuse what Suguru offers.
But in response to Suguru's earlier question, the barbed statement that indeed feels like another low blow, Satoru tacks on the following, mouth still half-full of apple:]
'Cause I remember enough about working with others to know I don't wanna be nagged.
[But even as he says this, he takes another bite of the apple, accepting what amounts to Suguru's nagging in this situation: a healthy apple, a piece of their past. After all, he went over every single chide that Suguru gave him in the years after his departure — and carried them with him every step of the way.
It's therefore both true and untrue: there are aspects of teamwork that Satoru no longer remembers. It's been years since he's needed anyone to accompany him on missions. He has forgotten what it's truly like to work with others. He doesn't remember what it's like to rely on anyone other than himself.
But Satoru works with his students and colleagues. He may not be the best example of responsibility, but he's learned the value in having others stand with him. He has tried to instill the importance of camaraderie within his students. He doesn't intend to remain alone at the top forever.
And that's specifically because he hasn't forgotten what it was like before — when he and Suguru were The Strongest. Together.]
[honesty is not a term to take lightly, in the sense that it may—will—require suguru to return the favor? to admit that he has a limited number of curses, thereby sacrificing his one true advantage. perhaps it would have been smarter to remain silent; even if satoru offered nothing specific regarding his new his overall condition, suguru would have been free to observe him over the coming days, weeks, months. a drawn-out repeat of their meeting in a museum, in a sense, with suguru once again drawing his own conclusions.
and it would have been counterproductive, in the end. there's no telling what they'll face in the cars to come; better to know their respective limitations now than find themselves at a loss at some critical moment, because if they're to work together—truly work together—they must be every bit as effective as they once were. it's the only way suguru can stomach the sacrifice satoru expects him to make.
so—honesty. it's a start, as well as a sign that satoru is, in fact, open to negotiations—even if he looks (and sounds) less than thrilled about the direction suguru is taking them. ah, well. suguru knew that even hinting about the last time they worked together ran the risk of this, but he'd wanted to make his point; now he can relax the slightest bit, fingers closing about the korogu seed as he rests his hands in his lap.]
Then you should remember the reasons for the nagging. [which is fake news, that slight emphasis implies.] You only had yourself to blame.
[it's true, isn't it? suguru only nagged ("nagged") because satoru needed someone to tell him to eat more balanced meals, to speak politely to others, to follow the rules. it's almost funny, in retrospect. trying to be the ideal sorcerer, trying to keep satoru in line with the school's teachings—all that wasted time.
but the past is the past! nothing to linger on now, when there are so much more important matters to discuss—and yet, as though they have all the time in the world (which maybe they do, given satoru's current state), suguru asks:]
What do you do when your students refuse to listen?
[those first years under satoru's protection; those students suguru fought. from one touchy subject to the next, though suguru does have his reasons for this roundabout route. he's getting to it.]
[It'd be easy to continue bickering, to slip further into the past, with Satoru arguing against Suguru's points and Suguru pushing him further. The impulse feels natural, as though Satoru has been subconsciously waiting for a chance to argue over something stupid — as though it could restore some of their old normalcy to this situation. After all, fighting used to work like that for them; it used to bring them closer together.
There's enough tension between them to justify an outlet.
But Satoru has lived without Suguru for over a decade, and though he likes to pretend he hasn't matured very much over the years — though he is, in some ways, even more obnoxious than he was as a teen — Satoru has learned some lessons. He has taken some of Suguru's advice to heart.
And he isn't foolish enough to believe that an argument will end in anything other than serious blows, heavy with the weight of all that happened between them, meant to hurt.
There are also all manner of harsh replies that Satoru could offer in response to each of these questions and statements that feel poised to sting — reminders of exactly where they stand, and the distance they have to cross to walk together again. But unlike Suguru, Satoru has never been out for blood.
Not even at the end.]
Suguru.
[It's the second time he's said his name. This time, his tone is imbued with warning. Satoru punctuates it by setting the apple core down on the ground between them. With a casual air, he wipes his hand on his pants.
He thinks of a bloodied student ID. He thinks of a damaged elementary school. He thinks of injured students.
And as though he's talking about a book he read or a movie he saw, his tone cheerfully conversational, he says:]
My students are off-limits.
[Satoru may be pushed into a corner, but assuming the risk of this arrangement is his responsibility alone. His students have nothing to do with this conversation, let alone the binding vow. It doesn't matter what point Suguru may have in asking this question. If there's any chance that he and Suguru will escape this train and return to their world, then Suguru does not need to know anything about them at all.]
Edited (i edited past editing hours...) 2021-08-25 06:49 (UTC)
[once upon a time, suguru was rarely the instigator; suguru was, more often than not, the person attempting to reel satoru in before finally rising to satoru's bait—and it isn't that he wants to be the instigator now. testing satoru's patience before they manage to hammer out any sort of arrangement is a foolish, foolish move, because while suguru is well aware of his value, suguru is not so foolish as to overestimate it. working together will almost certainly make things easier; working together will give them both one less thing to worry about, but they remain more than capable of limping along alone.
and yet there is an urge to poke this particular bear? something that suguru would like to think is beneath him, but it isn't. not really. not when satoru expects suguru to follow along with the rules and regulations without so much as a single complaint—and of course that isn't the entire truth. even when satoru was at his supposed worst, a self-centered high school student prone to showing off and saying the stupidest things, satoru was not thoughtless. that's why suguru was drawn to him, outside of them both being heralded as the strongest students. satoru was good; suguru could see it.
but the thought burns all the same, because it is, at its core, satoru failing to see—or failing to acknowledge—suguru's struggle for the second time.
...bitterness is every bit as counterproductive as keeping secrets. suguru knows this. suguru also knows that he'd relinquished his bitterness when he'd relinquished their bond, aware that clinging to anything would mean clinging to everything—but here he sits, anyway. needling satoru for no other reason than he can.
satoru's tone, then—it's warranted. expected, even, in that suguru knew satoru's students would be a far trickier topic than nagging—but as suguru watches satoru place the apple between them, listens to satoru's simple warning, suguru allows his bitterness to grow, knowing that this is precisely the opening he needs. my students are off-limits.]
So are mine.
[spoken in a tone possessing the same underlying steel as satoru's, though suguru chooses to chase it with a smile. his students. funny to think of them as his students, though he supposes he's taught them plenty, throughout the years. how to hold their heads high; how to avoid attracting the attention of satoru's fellow sorcerers, because are all students off limits? all children? suguru thinks not. the higher-ups had no qualms about using younger sorcerers as fodder—and beyond that, there are any number of sorcerers who would kill curse users regardless of age. that is what they are taught, after all: to defend the unworthy at any cost.
and that's the lesson satoru expects suguru to accept once more.]
You met them, once. Two girls. I know you don't have the patience for stories, so I won't tell you how I found them.
[in a filthy cage, beaten and bruised and scared, so scared, their eyes wide as they clung to one another for comfort. his girls. suffering in some backwater village while sorcerers were reminded, constantly, of their responsibility to protect those unable to protect themselves, told that monkeys were innocent—but suguru saw the truth.
(and then suguru lived it, after taking both children into his care. raising two young girls was no small feat—and now, wonder of wonders, they're almost as old as he was when he brought them home. what wouldn't he do for them? what won't he sacrifice for them? how can he make up for leaving them, though it was not his choice?)]
This is what Satoru thinks as he eyes that smile on Suguru's face and hears Suguru match his tone. Suguru targeted his students intending to hurt them; Suguru left his students bloodied and broken because of a twisted goal. And targeting his students is what ultimately forced Satoru's hand. It's what led to Suguru's death.
Satoru never tracked down his family. He never tracked down Suguru. He waited until Suguru made a move, and only ended his life when it became clear that there was absolutely no going back for him. And when his family ran away, Satoru let them go.
He always had the ability to hunt down Suguru. He always had the ability to hunt down his family. And he chose not to.
You're only considerate during such awkward moments.
Satoru only has one true weakness, and it is the weakness that continuously comes back to haunt him — to push the limits of what he's willing to allow for the sake of an old friendship. Because Satoru knows that everything that Suguru has done, every terrible choice he made, stems from one event in their youth that even this far along, neither of them have ever truly been able to put behind them.
There are many ways that Satoru could react to Suguru's words. He could allow the anger that he feels is justified to build until it reaches a boiling point. He could show that these words, more than any that Suguru spoke before them, hit their target effectively and hurt. Or he could treat this as he does most things and shrug it off.
He chooses to shrug it off.
He laughs, softly.]
I never went after them, you know.
[And was that a mistake? Satoru doesn't know. He was trapped in the prison realm before he could learn who followed the impostor to Shibuya.
Satoru is aware that he's the face of everything that Suguru has come to hate. He's nestled within jujutsu society, following their rules, because it's the best way to bring about change. He takes their orders and fights their fights because it's how he keeps his students alive — and how he shows them that they can make a difference. It's how he's teaches them that they can destroy the shithole that is jujutsu society, and rebuild.
Everything he has done is because of what he witnessed happened to Suguru when they were students. Everything ties back to Riko.
Suguru doesn't see that. He sees Satoru the jujutsu sorcerer. Not the Satoru who let him walk away. Not the Satoru who allowed his family to live.
But when Satoru looks at Suguru, he sees more than the curse user. He sees more than what he has done. And that is, ultimately, why Suguru remains his biggest weakness.
Satoru lies back on the grass and places an arm over his face, no longer watching Suguru closely. Beneath his arm, under his blindfold, he closes his eyes, as though checked out from this conversation. But Satoru thinks about how significant those two girls must be to Suguru, for him to bring them up as terms for the vow. He considers how Suguru dismissed his interest in their story — in Suguru's story — as though Satoru wouldn't care to know. And he feels keenly with how tense and broken things are between them, this binding vow will be another mistake.
But Satoru has always been prone to mistakes where Suguru was concerned.
So he agrees, as though the terms are easy. As though this doesn't mean that Satoru will have to go find those two girls and guide them off of the path that Suguru set for them — two more kids put into Satoru's care because their guardian went too far off the deep end.]
I won't hurt them.
[Suguru never needed a binding vow for that. All he had to do, in his last moments, was ask for Satoru to watch over them, and Satoru would have. But that isn't what Suguru wanted for them — and Satoru knows that too.]
But that means I gotta find them.
[And help them. Teach them not to make the same mistakes as Suguru.
He shifts his arm to give Suguru a look that is mostly lost beneath his blindfold.]
You know that, right?
[It's either leave them alone or protect them. There is no middle ground of wait and see if Satoru is to keep this promise.]
[it isn't a fair comparison—but that's just it, isn't it? nothing is fair, least of all the world satoru chose to protect and suguru chose to destroy. a fact that suguru accepted long, long ago; a fact that sticks in his side even now, as he inwardly acknowledges the truth behind satoru's words. i never went after them, you know. no. no, satoru never did. satoru allowed suguru to exist along the outskirts, gathering curses and resources and people for the better part of ten years. a tentative ceasefire.
and above that, beyond that, suguru remembers satoru at the end, telling him that his family escaped. it could have been a lie; suguru knew it wasn't, and thus suguru felt something akin to gratitude, in those last moments of his life—but nothing is fair. even if satoru were to continue bending the rules, others wouldn't; someone would inevitably attempt (or be instructed) to pick off members of suguru's family, a cowardly attempt to weaken him, and would they show mercy? how many deaths would the higher-ups deem necessary; how many sorcerers would they be willing to lose?
or: the twisted calculus that is suguru's plans, suguru's logic—what suguru wants, in the end, is what is best for his family. the girls. even if he wanted to believe that satoru would never hurt them, given that satoru has purposely turned a blind eye—even if he knows that satoru would never hurt them without cause—satoru still represents the world suguru detests. satoru remains a threat.
and yet satoru is also a hope.
...maybe this is what death does to a person? forces them to reconsider and reorganize their priorities, because while suguru does not intend to die for a second, suguru never intended to die at all. he left his family adrift at sea, with some members, he's certain, climbing over one another to reach the lifeboats—but he knows the girls' loyalty. he knows what they will choose, if he can't find a way back to them, and he thinks this person stretched out on the grass will provide a better option.
so suguru holds satoru's hidden gaze, for a time. relying on the familiar weight of it.]
They won't like it, [he confirms, thinking of the fuss they're sure to make, the trouble they're sure to cause,] but you can convince them. [well—] Eventually. They know who you were.
[were. a choice—but suguru doesn't linger on it, his smile shrinking as he is caught between two realities: satoru, the sorcerer, and satoru, the person. one suguru does not trust; one suguru trusts above so many others, when it comes to that which is most important.
nothing is fair.
quietly, then, and every bit as serious as satoru is trying not to be:]
Don't take them back.
[suguru doesn't need to say where, surely; satoru should know.]
[Suguru's word choice doesn't escape his notice. He wants to ask: Do they know who you were? Before? Suguru was always good. Smart. The better of them. Satoru knows he wouldn't be who he is today if Suguru hadn't been there to guide him.
But he keeps that question to himself.
The initial request itself is a large ask. For Satoru to keep his promise not to hurt the girls, he has to make sure they don't follow in Suguru's footsteps. He has to turn them away from life as curse users and undo what he assumes Suguru taught them. He has to try to convince them of his plan for change.
And he has to promise to do so without knowing the state of the world, since he was trapped in the prison realm before boarding this train.
It'll be challenging, but not impossible. They won't be the first kids that Satoru has helped steer in the right direction, even if they will likely be the most difficult — and even though they'll probably (rightfully) look at him as Suguru's killer. He won't get a free pass with them as he did with Megumi, but Satoru isn't the only one who can help them. His students have a knack for integrating outsiders into their group.
But it's the second part of the request — the part he knew was coming — that makes this promise all the more complicated.]
You'd make me swear to that?
[It would be in their best interests to go to the school. To make friends with sorcerers their age. To learn that they don't have to be left behind. To keep them alive, and to keep them from making the same mistakes as Suguru.
What is he supposed to do with two girls who won't fit in with normal human society, but that he's bound to keep out of jujutsu society as a whole? What kind of future is there for them, when they're so trapped, being a curse user will seem like their only option forward?
Satoru can't make a case for the alternative, because to explain that there are some powerful students in his care would put them on Suguru's radar. He can't describe his plans for upsetting jujutsu society as a whole, because Suguru will know to strike when change is in air and the hierarchy is weak. He can't promise that the girls won't get hurt if they do go to the school, because that's an impossible vow to keep.
He groans, covering his face with his arm again.]
Fine! Fine. I won't take them there. But if they choose to go on their own, I'm not gonna stop them.
[And it's possible they will, in time. If they do truly come to trust Satoru. If it really is possible that he can convince them to turn their backs on the path that he failed to convince Suguru to leave, all those years ago.]
[satoru's question is as much a question as suguru's stipulation was a surprise—and thus suguru opts for silence? allows satoru time to consider the ramifications of this arrangement. the difficulties. even if the girls choose to cooperate—which they will, suguru believes, if given enough time—there is the matter of keeping them hidden from the higher-ups; there is the struggle of winning them over, bit by bit; there is the responsibility of watching over two teens who, though self-sufficient, require time and attention. care. suguru knows what he is asking of satoru; suguru knows that allowing satoru to bring the girls back to the school would make it all so much easier.
but suguru did not free the girls from one cage just to shove them into another. they deserve their freedom.
and their freedom is why, as satoru drops his arm back over his half-hidden face, suguru takes satoru's words in stride. this was something he'd accounted for, of course. the possibility that, if left in satoru's care, the girls may grow curious, may decide to follow satoru back to the school—and this is nothing as simple as, say, the girls demanding to visit some monkey-owned sweets shop. choosing to attend the school would be turning their backs on all that suguru taught them.
it isn't what suguru wants for them, no. he doesn't want the girls caught up in the marathon that is sorcery, risking their lives for those who will never understand—but it would be their choice. their choice. if they are to survive, they must find meaning in the world without him.
(and wouldn't he be partially to blame, in the end? honesty was telling the girls why he hated the system he chose to leave—but also answering their questions about the people caught within it. the people he'd once cared for.)]
If that's what they choose, [he agrees, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he thinks of how stubborn they are? of the two of them following him after a family meeting, walking side-by-side in the shelter of his shadow. master geto, master geto—] They've always made their own decisions. I trust them.
[he does. their commitment is unquestionable, which he's sure will frustrate satoru to no end—and for a moment, just a moment, satoru thinks of other things he wishes he could demand of satoru. don't act like a child when you argue with them; they'll never respect you. never leave money with nanako; she has a sweet tooth to rival yours. always, always, treat them well. remember that i cared for them.
now, however, it's suguru's turn to close his eyes? the briefest break before he cracks them open once more, knowing that demanding satoru never kill him would have rendered this entire topic obsolete—but suguru knows his worth, and suguru knows his limits. so, simply:]
[Ten years is a long time, but it is nothing compared to a year of grief. There were many times throughout the last year where the days dragged on and Satoru felt as though the decade of living without Suguru because of Suguru's choices was unfairly short, whereas the year of living without Suguru because Suguru was dead felt too long. Too unrelenting, in how time continued forward.
But now, lying on the ground and listening to Suguru speak, Satoru understands just how long a decade truly is. Long enough for Suguru to establish a family in more than mere name. Long enough for him to love two girls enough to respect their ability to make their own decisions. Long enough for Suguru to sound less a curse user and more a parent.
Long enough the chasm between them to grow so wide that they need a binding vow to cross it.
Satoru shifts his arm, opens his eyes, and looks at the shape of the trees above him.]
Honesty. And two teenage girls.
[He laughs because it sounds so simple, framed like that. But honesty is a risk, and two teenage girls are a complicated lifelong investment.
But they're important to Suguru. That much is clear.
And Satoru is still tired. The nap and the apple have taken the edge off, but there's no telling how much longer they'll be on this train. A train that has the power to steal his techniques, hide his eyes, and trap the King of Curses in here with him. Suguru isn't asking for too much, considering what he is sacrificing by aligning himself with Satoru. He hasn't requested a future pardon or to be given free reign upon their escape, demands that Satoru would easily turn down.
His requests are reasonable, and while Satoru wouldn't have expected Suguru to make all manner of ridiculous demands, the knowledge that he would temper his desires to this degree exacerbates that heavy feeling in his chest. Given the opportunity to ask for anything, Suguru has shown that he boils down to one clear desire: the protection of two girls.
There is still goodness within Suguru, no matter how twisted and warped it has become. And that is why, even now, that small spark of trust still exists within Satoru.
It's why he agrees.]
Good stuff.
[He weighs these requests against the time frame of a while, and says, his voice a little muffled by his sleeve:]
Until we find the exit.
[Rather than holding Suguru to his vow until they succeed in their escape, Satoru decides to draw the finish line right before they leave. That way, should Suguru choose to act against him or otherwise return to his path, they can resolve matters here, instead of bringing another problem back home with them.]
[it feels... strange, stripping some part of himself bare like this. not completely; satoru doesn't even know the girls' names, but he does know how valuable they are, to suguru. the many, many things suguru would—has—set aside simply to keep them safe. it isn't wise to broadcast one's weaknesses.
but if anyone knows that suguru is far from untouchable, it's satoru.
and as uncomfortable as it is to be reminded that he is vulnerable, suguru thinks that maybe, just maybe, satoru is uncomfortable, too. it must be odd, being confronted with—or reminded of—the fact that an enemy is a person? that suguru severed old ties to forge new ones, establishing a new routine, a new life, that satoru is only allowed into when it all comes crashing down. satoru, left to pick up the pieces. suguru knows this is selfish.
this, however, remains his price, which he knows satoru will pay; it's simply a matter of how long satoru expects him to cooperate in return, which—well. until we find the exit. suguru stills for a moment, considering opportunities, risks—
—before offering a barely audible hum.]
Deal.
[how many times have they done this? made "deals," albeit of a far more lighthearted nature. this casual approach is nostalgic when it absolutely shouldn't be—and yet, as suguru watches satoru do nothing at all, suguru feels that bitterness just barely give way, allowing something akin to fondness to make its presence known.
...how odd. how exhausting. when this is over, suguru will need to find somewhere quiet and satoru-free to recuperate.]
You could at least sit up for this, you know.
Edited (how many times can i use the word strange in one tag: the challenge) 2021-08-28 00:32 (UTC)
[Satoru doesn't want to sit up. When he considers complying with Suguru's (reasonable) suggestion, he immediately wants to resist. To sit up is to give the vow the gravity that it deserves, but the fact that it requires solemnity at all is hard to accept. It solidifies what the binding vow represents — a band aid over a huge gap of time and distance. It acknowledges that they now require a degree of decorum to create what once would have been a simple agreement. It establishes the mutual sacrifices that will be made here, not only concerning vulnerabilities, but also as far as what Satoru is willing to grant Suguru in terms of his behavior. It feels like another backslide into the past, only wrong, because once it would have been enough for Satoru to give Suguru a playful shove to seal a deal. Once, lying here and lazily nodding his head have been enough.
But a binding vow is as it is labeled: binding. A sealing of a promise with cursed energy, the violation of which leads to significant penalties. It's a big deal. For Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in generations, to make a binding vow with anyone is an even bigger deal. Making it with an enemy is huge.
Which is why Satoru drags his feet.]
We don't have to treat this as seriously as the geezers do.
[Meaning the higher-ups, who follow all sorts of rituals in the creation of binding vows. Those traditions are boring and unnecessary, when all he and Suguru need to do initiating the binding of their cursed energy.
But it's an empty protest. He's already moving, though he takes his time in complying — stretching his arm above his head, rubbing his eyes through his blindfold, and then slowly working himself up into a casual sitting position.]
You do the honors.
[Of stating the terms in full, since Suguru has always been better at formalities than Satoru. Meanwhile, Satoru will tug down his blindfold to watch and ensure the binding successfully takes.
And to look at Suguru as he gives up his freedom to work alongside him once more.]
[the problem with satoru—then, and now, and forever—is how comfortable he feels? oh, not immediately, and not to the degree that suguru lets his guard down; it's impossible to forget that they exist on opposite ends of the spectrum these days, enemies instead of friends—but then comes a joke, or a handful of short, stupid texts. something simple that deserves no attention whatsoever, because suguru made his choice; suguru committed to his path.
and yet the simplest things often prove the most insidious, somehow slipping through cracks that should not exist. they make it easy to remember, to miss, to mourn the way things used to be; they make suguru want to step closer to satoru when he should be taking three steps back, and that's dangerous, so dangerous. for both of them. neither of them can afford to let the other in.
so while they wouldn't have needed to treat this so seriously, once upon a time? while they wouldn't have needed to make this vow at all? now they need to draw this line in the sand—which is why, as satoru makes a show of sitting up, suguru calmly plucks the seed from his lap, slipping it into his robes before he purposely, pointedly, pushes himself to his feet. satoru allowing suguru to take the reins is—well. it would have been par for the course, a decade back; now it feels like a tease and a test, twisted together.
it's fine. suguru does not intend to rock the boat at this stage, and so, coolly calmly:]
Until we find a way off this train, I, Suguru Geto, swear to work alongside you. I swear to abide by the rules and regulations of a jujutsu sorcerer.
[which still burns? threatens to stick in his throat, honestly, but he pushes past it with feigned ease, eyes betraying nothing as they fall to satoru's.]
And you, Satoru Gojo, swear to be honest.
[the briefest pause, then, as suguru considers how to word the most pressing part of this arrangement—but it's nothing. a barely noticeable break as he holds out his right hand, palm facing upward, for satoru to take, to haul himself up—if he so chooses. a tease and a test of suguru's own design.]
You swear that, when you return, you will neither harm Mimiko or Nanako, nor bring them to the school against their will.
[When Satoru was younger, he took a lot for granted.
Raised to be the strongest from the moment he opened his Six Eyes, his identity as the most important member of the Gojo clan — and future most important sorcerer of all the clans — was all he had. It was all that mattered. Everyone else was just there, either to help or try (and fail) to hinder. He was used to getting everything he could possibly want but nothing that he truly needed, and it affected his view of the world around him.
And then he went to school and met Suguru.
Suguru was the only one who stood up to him — the only one capable of holding his own against him. He was the only one who had the gall to chide him for his behavior, and the only one who didn't judge him for his vulnerabilities. Suguru was his one and only best friend — and Satoru believed he would always be there.
Satoru took him for granted. Despite his Six Eyes and all the power at his disposal — despite all his training to truly become the strongest, so that he would never repeat his failures in fighting against Toji Fushiguro — he didn't see what he needed to see most. And while that singular mistake would set the foundation for his future plans — while it would force him to grow up and do something about the state of jujutsu society — it cost him the single, most important person in his life.
Now, looking at the hand that is extended to him and then meeting Suguru's eyes, Satoru sees him. Suguru can breeze through the formal words and cover his pauses all he wants, but Satoru knows where and how to look. He doesn't make the same mistake.
And he knows that this isn't easy. He knows that he is putting Suguru in a box to which Suguru would not return if he had other options — a deal he would have rejected, if Satoru would not promise to keep two teenage girls safe. He knows that this vow costs more than mere words; it costs the values and beliefs that Suguru built up around himself when he saw jujutsu society for what it was.
For all that is broken between them, for all that Suguru's death is on his hands, for all that Suguru thought about killing him or taking his eyes or partnering up with Sukuna — he sees Suguru. More than the curse user. More than his deeds.
And he sees himself, extending his hand and setting it atop Suguru's with a thin layer of Infinity between them. He sees himself taking too big a risk, making dangerous promises, and setting himself up for an inevitability at the end of this binding vow. He sees himself handing over small truths, little pieces of himself in the form of honesty, that Suguru will take and hold close, and eventually turn against him. Satoru sees himself giving in to his only weakness yet again.
But he's learned his lesson about taking Suguru for granted. As he hoists himself up with his Infinity between their palms, he decides to give Suguru something he should have long ago: a supportive touch. A gesture, to show that for all that is marred between them, for all that they will likely end up hurting each other in the end — he sees, and he knows.
Before their cursed energy binds them together, Satoru stands and allows Suguru into his Infinity. Their palms meet, skin to skin, and Satoru clasps his hand. He steps closer, leaning in until his forehead barely brushes against Suguru's.
He says:]
I swear.
[Never one to respect lines in the sand or decorum of any kind, Satoru steps right across Suguru's boundary with a tease and a test —
[touching someone without actually touching them is—there is a disconnect? a misfire in the brain as one registers the contact that does not exist. suguru sees satoru's fingers fold over his own; suguru sees the sliver of space between their hands, so thin as to be nonexistent—and yet there is only weight. pressure. the discomfort that is holding onto something that simply is not there.
it doesn't matter that suguru expected this, just as it doesn't matter that this is far from the first time suguru has experienced this. there is something off—wrong—about touching satoru without touching him at all, because it serves as yet another measure of how everything between them has changed. suguru, despite himself, remembers what it was like to be allowed in.
he does not expect satoru to let him in once more.
but satoru at his best, as suguru knows, is satoru breaking the rules, testing the limits, pushing the boundaries—so how quintessentially him, really, to allow suguru in when suguru least expects it? to allow suguru a moment—just a moment—to process the warmth of his skin, the ease with which their hands fit together, before he takes it that much further, leaning into suguru's space with no hesitation whatsoever. as though this closeness is his right.
suguru should take this as a warning, of sorts. a gentle reminder that he has no way to keep satoru at bay—except that it wouldn't matter if he did. he knows this. satoru would always, always, find a way through, not because he is the strongest—but because after all of these years, he remains the one thing suguru can't let go.
and that's what makes satoru so very dangerous. techniques can be accounted for, planned around; emotions, however, cannot, as evidenced by the way suguru's chest tightens as he holds satoru's gaze. what would he have done ten years ago? step on satoru's toes? kiss the corner of satoru's mouth in the hopes of flustering him? suguru wonders, briefly, if such a trick would still work—but the thought leaves him as a sigh, so soft it's almost impossible to hear. what matters now is the prickle of satoru's cursed energy, a sensation every bit as familiar as satoru's touch. that is what suguru should focus on; that is where suguru should direct his full attention.
but while suguru's eyes do drop to their hands, noting that sliver of space which no longer exists, leans infinitesimally closer? not quite willing to match satoru's daring; unable to resist satoru's pull. some things never change.]
I swear.
[a binding vow is such a simple thing, in theory. suguru speaks the words and allows his cursed energy to mingle with satoru's, a sort of push-and-pull that is all that is required to lock them into an entirely new form of coexistence—but as suguru looks back up at satoru, he thinks of the complexities. binding vow or no, they do not fit together as easily as they once did.
and that is what sends suguru pulling away, after lingering for a second longer: the thought that they could. maybe.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; the date will remain a mystery
because that would be the smart thing to do, wouldn't it? satoru, slipping outside of suguru's far more limited range simply because he can—except that, as suguru closes his eyes to better focus on his surroundings, suguru senses the faintest trace of cursed energy. something known, albeit at a much, much higher level.
and there is the thought—the singular thought—of ignoring this, for it could be a trap—and if it isn't, then it could be a boon. one less thing to worry about, in this train full of individuals undeserving of suguru's time and/or attention. an opportunity that suguru could and should take full advantage of, because satoru made his choice; it is only fitting that he accept the consequences.
(but suguru thinks of satoru's offer, just as he thinks of sukuna's indifference; of satoru texting him late at night, asking him to play yet another game; of mimiko and nanako by his side a few short months before, all three of them basking in the sunlight on their balcony. who's satoru gojo, anyway?)
...the most difficult decisions can sometimes be the easiest to make. or so suguru tells himself, anyway, as he summons one of his oldest curses, sitting upon its back as it sails toward satoru's weakening signature. he expects to find satoru in peril? to find some monster dragging satoru toward its den—but what suguru finds, as his curse drifts toward the ground, is something as surprising as it is painfully familiar: satoru sprawled atop the grass, breath slow and even. satoru, asleep.
and as suguru slips from his curse's back to the forest floor, suguru knows this: were he to set a curse upon satoru's prone form, satoru would be none the wiser. satoru, the most powerful sorcerer the world has seen in generations, would die without so much as a whimper—and suguru's family, suguru's goals, suguru's world. all would be safe.
and yet.
suguru kneels beside satoru, first holding his hand beneath satoru's nostrils—feeling for air, that steady in-and-out—before allowing his fingers to drift to the side, coming to rest just beneath satoru's blindfold. no barrier. suguru's fingertips press against warm, soft skin, and he is once again reminded that he could end this here—
—just as he is reminded of all those lazy afternoons spent in one another's company, if not one another's bed. suguru, taking full advantage of the privileges afforded to him; satoru, granting suguru more as he rambled on about anything and everything. they were a pair, once.
they were a pair.
suguru's summon disappears, spiraling back to suguru without the slightest sound; it is, at least, one less thing for suguru to worry about as hooks an arm about satoru's torso, dragging him—awkwardly—toward the trunk of a particularly large tree. he wonders if satoru has always been so heavy? he wonders if perhaps he missed that last bit of satoru's growth.
ah, well. nothing to do about it now, especially as suguru finally, blessedly, reaches the shade he'd been aiming for. this, at least, should be comfortable—or, more accurately: this, at least, should be comfortable enough, which is why sugru deigns to sit upon the ground. the trunk at his back is rough, bordering on unpleasant; he can hear a korogu calling to him from somewhere above, that annoying ya-ha-ha! echoing in this otherwise silent space, but—
—but. satoru sleeps soundly, presumably suffering from too much activity performed on too little sleep; suguru watches him for a time, still weighing his options, before finding himself drawing satoru that much closer. satoru's head in his lap, cradled by his robes—this wouldn't have felt odd, once. it would have felt anything but, considering the trust that once existed between them.
now, however, as suguru peers down at satoru's still face—as suguru peels down the blindfold satoru has chosen to wear, allowing it to pool about satoru's neck—suguru will admit: this is odd. cradling the man who killed him—he should, at the very least, return the favor. for his sake; for his family's sake.
except that there are so many other things to take into consideration—which is why suguru remains still? why suguru sets his curses about the perimeter of this glade; why suguru permits himself to enjoy this moment for what it is, until the person in his lap begins to stir. it's inevitable. suguru did not expect satoru to sleep forever, even if it would make suguru's life so much easier.
but here they are. here satoru is, blinking awake—and so, as suguru watches those brilliant eyes focus on their surroundings, suguru offers, somewhat amusedly:]
Good morning.
[one hand rests within his robes, just above satoru's head; the other is balled into the loose fist that suguru is leaning against as he peers at the person below him—but he remains relaxed. easy. posing no obvious threat as he offers satoru the slightest of smiles, because look who holds—has held—the power here.]
no subject
He felt it when he neared his limit: the wall looming before him, impossible to scale, the barrier that would keep him from carrying on as is. He tried to avoid it — did his best to balance the usage of his techniques with occasional, sporadic rest — but the threats that exist on this train prevented him from letting down his guard in full. He kept his Infinity active, stayed awake to monitor the movements of Suguru and Sukuna both, and attempted to map out in his mind just how much each of his technique drained from his dwindling supply of energy. Every ability cost more than he remembered, the price of his attacks having scaled with his power, outgrowing the limits that Satoru thought he left behind in his youth — for good.
You'll fry your brain, Shoko told him all those years ago.
It was the headache that warned him. Satoru thought he had more time, that the occasional nap would keep his inevitable exhaustion at bay. But when the headache hit, he realized he had calculated his time incorrectly; he saw he was at a point of no return.
He planned to get away from all possible threats — to remove himself from his surroundings long enough to recharge, far away from where anyone could sense him, so no one would take advantage of his inability to keep his technique running. If he could avoid tipping anyone off, then it was possible for nothing to happen in his absence, the passengers saved out of ignorance for his situation. But instead of making it to some distant cave or tucked away alcove, Satoru simply hit his wall: he collapsed, his body forcing him to do what he neglected.
He sleeps deeply, unhindered by his techniques, and when he awakens, it's with the confusion that settles upon emerging out of a long and relentless rest, where time and place feel muddled. Threat doesn't register; he feels only the soft padding of a lap beneath his head, the warmth of another body keeping watch. There's a subtle scent of something unidentifiable yet familiar, as if plucked from the comfort of his youth.
Satoru opens his eyes, and as awareness dawns upon him, sees only a memory.]
Suguru...
[Spoken softly, voice tempered by sleep, surprise flitting across his features, approaching something like wonder as his hand rises from the ground as if to touch — as if to confirm his tangibility. The moment is instantaneous and fleeting, barely worth acknowledging, his hand only making it just above the grass — and then it passes. But within that brief span of time, Satoru thinks, Is it really you?, and reality settles upon him once more.
It is really Suguru. His body is whole, untouched by death. The words he speaks are his own, that teasing Good Morning entirely Suguru in tone and intent. There is no one else wearing his flesh, using his voice. This is the same Suguru who once chided Satoru for the way he spoke — the same Suguru who once turned away. This is the Suguru who sat beside him in the Museum, who said, I think you're tired, and considered what that meant — who sat and watched Satoru blindly seek his eyes, alone.
This is the Suguru whose body Satoru once stood over. He had wanted to reach out then, too, his hand twitching at his side.
Satoru looks at Suguru for the first time since ending his life, his eyes unobscured, and sees him.
And it sinks in: that he has been found. That he is vulnerable, without his Infinity, held in Suguru's lap, while Suguru watches over him — capable of doing anything he pleases. Satoru slept for however long, while Suguru held vigil and allowed him to awaken. He could have easily been killed, held close like this, with nothing to shield him. Satoru was — is — unprotected and alone.
And Suguru did nothing.
But Suguru doing nothing before means nothing in the now, and Satoru's sluggish brain presents to him the option: Suguru is biding his time. Suguru wanted him to witness his new shortcomings, to face his own humanity, to see that he will bleed as easily as any other human. Suguru's smile is a knife at his throat, a poison on his lips, a curse lodged within his heart.
He feels an unbidden jolt of adrenaline, an unwanted rush that attempts to push him into action.
And Satoru ignores it.
He smiles, slowly, crookedly, and for a moment longer, leaves himself free of his Infinity. He remains touchable, vulnerable, capable of being wounded, and bares his throat to get a better look at the man who stayed with him when he could have destroyed him, as if to acknowledge him for thinking about it, as if to say, I know you thought of it. I know you considered.
As if to remind him: But you didn't.
Satoru rests his hand back on the ground, his fingers nestling in the grass, and he says:]
You're late.
[Late to find Satoru in his weakened state. Late to take advantage. Late to give Satoru the gift that Satoru once gave to him.
Late to emerge from death to reclaim his body.
Suguru is late for everything, and Satoru, feeling him breathe in and out, staring up into eyes that are no longer lifeless, no longer controlled by someone else entirely —
More than anything else, Satoru is glad to see him.]
no subject
(and what better way to end it. satoru, standing before him in that alley, holding his gaze while ending his life. the last thing suguru saw was blue, blue, blue.)
from the corner of his eye, suguru registers the slight movement of satoru's hand—and suguru knows that this is hardly the time for nostalgia. they are both vulnerable, like this? suguru presents a clear and present danger that satoru could, should, separate himself from as quickly as possible; it would be easy for a somewhat sluggish satoru to take advantage of their close proximity, but—
suguru.
something about satoru's tone gives suguru pause—or maybe it's the way satoru stares up at him, as though he isn't quite believing what he's seeing. that's fair. this may not be their first meeting on this train, but this is, suguru realizes, the first time satoru has seen him since killing him. and how does that feel? to be confronted by the sight of an enemy, an old friend, a ghost made real. suguru supposes that he should feel satisfied, at the very least; there certainly is something, mm, darkly humorous about this turn of events, and yet, as suguru allows satoru this chance to study him, suguru ignores the sudden urge to sweep satoru's messy hair from his forehead. he would have, once. there would have been no question as to whether or not satoru would welcome his touch.
now, however, even as satoru's techniques remain dormant, suguru is not sure which would be worse: satoru allowing suguru to touch him, or satoru finding his fingers stopping just short of satoru's skin.
...so suguru does nothing, aside from take in the smile satoru offers? the ease with which satoru tilts his head back, almost as if he is as comfortable in suguru's lap now as he may have been a decade ago. and suguru knows it's a show, of sorts; this is satoru making a point that suguru acknowledges with only a quirk of his brow. of course he didn't. he a reason for being here, and said reason involves satoru, alive and well.
but as for being late:]
Am I? [hmm. he straightens, allowing his hand to fall to his knee as he pretends to consider just how late he may, in fact, be.] I did run into a few obstacles along the way.
[obstacles, ranging from these cars' wacky tasks to an unplanned death. nothing is certain.]
How long did I keep you waiting?
[the answer, of course, should be no time at all—because if satoru had a lick of sense, satoru would have stopped waiting for suguru after watching suguru disappear into a crowd.]
no subject
Suguru holding him in his lap now is a show of power — of what he could have done, before Satoru woke up, and what he could still try to do, before Satoru finishes pushing away the fog of sleep. Awake, Satoru is a threat, and his reaction time will not suffer too much for being groggy — but his energy is still low, and a nap can only undo so much of the strain he has placed on himself.
But this has the strange effect of tainting memory — surmounting countless recollections of Satoru waking up with his head in Suguru's lap, on his shoulder, on his pillow — with a singular memory of Suguru looking down at him with unknown intentions. Suguru is watching over him because he chose to allow Satoru to live, despite the last time they looked at each other — despite Satoru's unspoken promise that they will look at each other like that again, if Suguru doesn't take him up on his offer.
Satoru has spent so much time buffered from the outside world, that to exist wholly within it — to feel the grass tickling his fingers, the cool earth beneath him, and the presence of someone above him — is dangerous because it shows Satoru what he's missed. It shows Satoru who he has missed, and proves that he will miss him again.
(Suguru had asked him once, those years ago, if he did. If he would.)
So when Satoru attempts to cocoon himself in his Infinity once again, it is less to protect himself from Suguru, and more to protect himself from the way this feels — to keep himself focused on the distance that exists between them.
Except his Infinity remains sluggish, slow to respond, the nap having only gone so far in replenishing his energy. Instinctually, he attempts his self-reverse, but that technique remains dormant. So it takes more effort than Satoru usually exerts to finally activate his Infinity — enough that it causes a slight crease along his forehead, a tell that wouldn't be visible if he were wearing his blindfold.
He covers for his lapse by pulling away. He sits up, yawns — and finally, his technique activates. Infinity surrounds him once more, and so protected, Satoru faces Suguru again.]
Long enough that I got tired of waiting.
[Which says nothing really. Satoru isn't exactly patient, and historically, has always been less so where Suguru is concerned, especially when his own weaknesses were still in play. How many times after a mission, when Suguru finally made his way to his room, had Satoru frowned at him and asked, What took you so long?
It's easier, though, to say it this way: vaguely, as though Satoru could simply be talking about this very incident. Instead of saying: I never stopped waiting. Instead of looking at the prospect of Suguru refusing the terms that Satoru presented in the Museum, and admitting: I never will.
Not everything ends in death. Satoru knows there are some things he cannot kill.
And so he pulls his blindfold back over his eyes, and focuses on what has proven to be killable — and yet, still somehow persisting.]
Thought you made other plans.
[Suguru rescuing Satoru from a nap out in the open had not been part of either of their plans, but Satoru knows that is was not simply a gesture of goodwill. Suguru would not have spent the days since their last meeting languishing; he would have explored his options. He would have thought through what Satoru told him. Suguru isn't rash — a fact that stings even now, when he considers what that meant for his departure from the school. And Satoru.
Suguru being here means he made a decision. And since Satoru is still breathing, it's easy to guess at what will come next.]
But you made it.
[And that, at least, means that the small measure of trust that Satoru showed him — the risk he took — wasn't misplaced. Suguru will have his own reasons for agreeing to what Satoru has presented, and will likely have his own terms, but this still means something. It shows restraint, not unlike the restraint he showed during his final play, when he refrained from killing young sorcerers.
It shows he wasn't wrong: Suguru can do this again.]
no subject
but suguru, ever watchful, notes that barely noticeable furrow of satoru's brow. the sort of thing others would think nothing of, if they noticed it at all—and yet suguru sees it as what it is: strain. satoru pushing himself right back to the brink, which brings to mind all manner of familiar questions. how long ago did you sleep? not nap; sleep. have you eaten? has this happened before?
voicing such things, however, seems ill-advised. it's highly unlikely that satoru will respond with the honesty he would have a decade before—and so suguru remains silent, still, as satoru pulls away, allowing him to reestablish some manner of distance between them. a necessity, these days.
but suguru's slight smile remains in place, as though he's amused, as ever, by satoru's infamous impatience. maybe he is, on some level. he always did favor that which others found annoying, especially when it came to satoru—and there is also the underlying knowledge that, no matter how impatient satoru is, satoru had little choice but to wait for this. with sukuna on the train, what other options does satoru have? suguru could have taken far, far longer to find his way to satoru's side.
and yet here he is. early, some might say, but of course nothing is ever early enough for satoru.]
Someone had to find you.
[better me than sukuna. unspoken words left hanging between them, for a moment, as suguru twists about, reaching for something off to his right, hidden in the tree's shadow. another risky move, but also a calculated one: exposing his once-wounded side to satoru like this is a sign that he does not intend to try anything dangerous.]
And I was curious, [he admits, almost lightly, as he sits back up—and promptly tosses a good-sized apple satoru's way. not the sort of sugary treat satoru prefers, but when one is stuck in a car like this, one makes do.] You never explained what you wanted.
[or: this is the time to lay all the cards on the table.]
no subject
But though he has pulled himself from Suguru's grasp, Suguru still holds something vital in his hands — something that can be exploited, now that he has a better sense of Satoru's limitations. And the words that Suguru tosses out there confirm it: Someone had to find you.
Someone worse could have found him. Sukuna would not have hesitated to kill him where he rested. Satoru would have been an easy victim. And now Suguru has a sense of why he was tired and worried in the museum — why Satoru suggested that Suguru set everything aside so they could work together.
So someone could cover for his lapse. So someone else could keep an eye on the train. So he could simply sleep.
Suguru's decision to allow Satoru to live means he has chosen Satoru over his other options. But it does not mean he will approach this without demands of his own. It does not mean that negotiations will go smoothly — and that he will not take this blatant demonstration of weakness and carry it with him until the next too close call.
But Satoru responds to Suguru's movement, to the knowledge that Suguru now holds, and to Suguru's words the way that Satoru responds to all things — easily. He lazily pulls one leg to himself and half-extends the other one, his foot not too far from where Suguru still sits, a gesture of his own: Suguru is not out of reach.
Not anymore. For better or for worse.
And yet, as he follows the careful movement of Suguru's body, given full vantage of the arm that he once lost — the arm that Satoru suspects he was missing in the museum — Satoru feels the weight of their last conversation settle in his chest once more. Suguru may be moving slowly, methodically, without the air of a threat, but this still feels personal — it still feels like a reminder.
He thinks of Suguru's final moments. Behind his blindfold, while Suguru's attention is elsewhere, Satoru briefly closes his eyes.
And then he opens them again, in time to fluidly catch the apple — and isn't this, too, a kind of attack? Suguru offering him something sweet yet healthy, as though it's a perfectly natural thing for him to do. As though slipping back in time.
Satoru looks down at it, running his thumb over the waxy surface, and thinks, childishly, that this is a low blow. Suguru tossing him an apple feels more like a power move than the act of holding a vulnerable Satoru in his lap.
The apple feels less like a peace offering and more like a weapon that Suguru knows Satoru will allow into his Infinity — meant to twist into concealed places that Suguru himself can't reach.
But because he is, unfailingly, still himself:]
An apple? [He makes a face, like this is a disappointment, when in reality, it's too much.] Is this 'cause you think I'm skipping my fruits and veggies?
[He is! Of course he is. But he follows up his words with a hearty bite, and is immediately grateful. He hasn't had anything sweet since the dog car, so the apple might as well be candy.
Then, after swallowing, he sighs and once again looks down at the apple — at the singular bite marring the red surface.]
You already know what I want. [Not only in the sense that Satoru has already suggested they work together, but also in that his terms and conditions are obvious. Suguru has likely already thought them through. But he speaks them out loud anyway.] Work with me. Stick to jujutsu sorcerer rules and regulations for a while. That's it.
[He says it as though it's easy — after all, Suguru did it before. But he knows that for Suguru, it is not easy at all. And he knows that the way he's framed it, specifically indicating that Suguru will, for a time, technically be acting as a jujutsu sorcerer, presents it in a worse light.
But Satoru has gone over all of the other possibilities, and they are too open-ended. He cannot tell Suguru not to hurt anyone, because Suguru must be able to defend himself and others. He cannot tell Suguru he can hurt others within reason, because Suguru may use his loose language to find loopholes.
This is the only way to ensure that Suguru cannot find an easy way out. The jujutsu sorcerer regulations are strict, if a little outdated. And even though Satoru has his qualms with some of them, they provide an easy framework upon which to base his terms.]
no subject
but now suguru merely releases an amused breath as satoru complains about this too-healthy snack. no matter how many friends satoru makes on this train—no matter how powerful they prove to be—the truth of the matter is this: no one here knows satoru like suguru. this apple is further proof of suguru's value.
(and at its core, buried but still there, is another truth: concern. suguru always did concern himself with satoru's well-being; maybe some habits are hard to break. maybe this apple is a sort of kindness after all.)
there is, however, no sense in speaking of it, because suguru awaits the terms he's certain will follow—and follow they do, spoken in that unbothered tone. stick to jujutsu sorcerer rules and regulations for a while. no surprises there, though as suguru tilts back against this tree, turning this deceptively simple sentence over and over again in his mind, suguru sees the cleverness behind it. satoru, seeking to trap suguru within the confines of a neat little box. suguru wonders how many times satoru went over this in his mind, ensuring that there were no angles for suguru to exploit.
...well. it's as commendable as it is galling.
but suguru has thought of this? has spent days coming to terms with the idea of conforming to the rules he's long since turned away from. all that he's done, after finding the girls in that cage—allowing satoru to place this yoke about his neck continues to, and will always, feel like a violation of what geto holds dear.
and yet it's the girls suguru thinks of as he offers up an almost contemplative hum, his expression still. there is no distaste to be seen; there is simply suguru, perfectly composed, watching satoru's every move.]
"A while."
[a question, of sorts, because how long is that? until they find the conductor? until they find a way off this train? something suguru wants set in stone for obvious reasons, but as that is an easy enough thing to work into his own terms, he allows it to stand. for the time being. he has another, more important question to ask, and so, mildly:]
And what do you think I want in return?
[he's curious, honestly. even if this results in satoru-brand flippancy.]
no subject
But after the second bite, Satoru rests his hand on his knee, the apple held loosely in his fingers. If left like this, half-eaten, the flesh exposed to the air, it would soon brown. Some things aren't meant to be exposed and left out in the open — and that's a lesson that Satoru learned the hard way, when he looked upon a Suguru who was not Suguru at all.
Hence he says nothing more about the apple, draws no attention to the way it feels to hold something he once took for granted, and allows it to become an afterthought.
He does similarly with the the repetition of his chosen words, a while, letting them hang in the air without clarification. If Satoru had it his way, a while would extend beyond this train, to wherever they ended up next. Not only as a means of protecting the passengers and anyone else they may encounter thereafter, but also as a means of protecting Suguru. This is a second chance of sorts; they can do better. Suguru can do better.
And Satoru, who missed far too much when they were students, could do better too. He's spent the last ten years of his life trying to make a difference — trying to raise students to upend the jujutsu system and prevent it from harming future generations. Of course he'd want to prevent Suguru from becoming a victim again — while actively preventing him from victimizing anyone else in the process.
But he knows that a while can only be stretched so far.
Satoru exhales, the sound loud, amounting to a dramatic ehhh as he considers Suguru's question and how much hinges on his agreement. Everyone always assumes that everything comes so easy to Satoru, and they aren't wrong — Satoru masters everything he touches, and loses very little in the process. But there are some situations that exist outside of his proficiency; there are some successes that come with a cost.
Satoru didn't know what to say to Suguru all those years ago to keep him at his side. It didn't matter how deeply he knew Suguru, nor how strongly he cared, Satoru missed something vital. Suguru walked away.
Faced with this question now, Satoru looks at Suguru and says:]
You get me.
[It is flippant, teasing, but also utterly serious: he gets Satoru in his corner. He gets spared another death at Satoru's hands. Satoru was once enough for Suguru, just as a tossed apple would have once been enough for Satoru.
But they both know that is no longer the case. If Satoru had been enough, Suguru wouldn't have turned away.]
How about I throw in a seed too?
[He only has one, nestled in his pocket, earned before his impromptu nap when he answered the innocent question: What is the stupidest thing you've done?
It seems fair to give that one to Suguru, so he doesn't wait for an answer. He digs it out from his pocket and tosses it at him.
Not that he thinks a joke will pass as something resembling a negotiation. Like the terms he presented to Suguru, Satoru has also considered what Suguru will want in exchange for his cooperation.
It's easier, though, to toss a seed like an apple and pretend that it could be enough.]
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but satoru can no longer afford to stand alone. they're both hobbled, on this train; satoru needs suguru just as suguru needs satoru, and that gives suguru some degree of leverage.
enough, he hopes. just enough.
his expression, however, remains unchanged, even as he neatly catches the seed satoru lobs his way. a gift for a gift, he supposes. a gesture for a gesture, in that this seed represents what could be: the two of them pooling their resources, finding ways to meet even the most ridiculous objectives. two heads were—are—better than one.
and yet.]
Only one? Maybe you've forgotten what it's like to work with others.
[maybe it's been too long since satoru has teamed up with anyone at all. a low blow, of sorts—but suguru holds this single seed in the palm of his hand, much as he held the charm a few days before. working together means doing more than the bare minimum? suguru's cooperation is worth far more than satoru simply coasting.
(and suguru knows that satoru is aware of this; satoru wants off this train every bit as badly as suguru does, suguru is sure, but there is a weight to all of this. adhering to satoru's rules, even temporarily, does not come easy.)]
Honesty would be a better start. [start. implying that there is more, because of course there is—but as they will work their way to it, suguru says:] I'd need to know your limits.
[all that satoru has access to and all that satoru does not, thanks to this train. satoru's vulnerabilities—which could come back to bite him, depending on the length of this binding vow, but that is the cost of teamwork.]
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Which is exactly why he's still sitting here — why he invited Suguru to sit next to him in the first place, back in the museum. And why, when Suguru requests honesty as part of their exchange, Satoru resists the knee-jerk urge to make light of it, and offers:]
I'd have to tell you.
[If he could potentially hold this information close to his chest, Satoru would. Admitting his vulnerabilities is as dangerous as Suguru knowing he was missing his eyes in the museum. It is something that Suguru can use against him once that undefined time of a while expires. And if they leave this train and Satoru remains altered as he is now, unable to reclaim his techniques, the risk will be even greater. Sharing this information can — and likely will — come back to bite him.
But telling Suguru would be for his own benefit as well. Without his self-reverse, Satoru can't heal. That means that if he finds himself weakened, tired, or otherwise affected by the train, he could be injured. He could be killed. There would be no coming back from a mortal wound.
If they are to work together, Suguru will need to know that — to understand the importance of Satoru resting somewhere safe. To assist, if Satoru calls him after an encounter with Sukuna or someone equally unpleasant. To act, if Satoru is unresponsive. To realize that if their time working together comes to an end, Suguru will not be able to take back anything he does thereafter — a burden that he will carry forever, as Satoru does his.
He has no choice but to hand this over, and admitting as much is already a step in the direction of honesty. A gesture, which he follows up with a bite of the apple, as if to acknowledge Suguru's unspoken point: he can't stand alone anymore, and he can't afford to refuse what Suguru offers.
But in response to Suguru's earlier question, the barbed statement that indeed feels like another low blow, Satoru tacks on the following, mouth still half-full of apple:]
'Cause I remember enough about working with others to know I don't wanna be nagged.
[But even as he says this, he takes another bite of the apple, accepting what amounts to Suguru's nagging in this situation: a healthy apple, a piece of their past. After all, he went over every single chide that Suguru gave him in the years after his departure — and carried them with him every step of the way.
It's therefore both true and untrue: there are aspects of teamwork that Satoru no longer remembers. It's been years since he's needed anyone to accompany him on missions. He has forgotten what it's truly like to work with others. He doesn't remember what it's like to rely on anyone other than himself.
But Satoru works with his students and colleagues. He may not be the best example of responsibility, but he's learned the value in having others stand with him. He has tried to instill the importance of camaraderie within his students. He doesn't intend to remain alone at the top forever.
And that's specifically because he hasn't forgotten what it was like before — when he and Suguru were The Strongest. Together.]
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and it would have been counterproductive, in the end. there's no telling what they'll face in the cars to come; better to know their respective limitations now than find themselves at a loss at some critical moment, because if they're to work together—truly work together—they must be every bit as effective as they once were. it's the only way suguru can stomach the sacrifice satoru expects him to make.
so—honesty. it's a start, as well as a sign that satoru is, in fact, open to negotiations—even if he looks (and sounds) less than thrilled about the direction suguru is taking them. ah, well. suguru knew that even hinting about the last time they worked together ran the risk of this, but he'd wanted to make his point; now he can relax the slightest bit, fingers closing about the korogu seed as he rests his hands in his lap.]
Then you should remember the reasons for the nagging. [which is fake news, that slight emphasis implies.] You only had yourself to blame.
[it's true, isn't it? suguru only nagged ("nagged") because satoru needed someone to tell him to eat more balanced meals, to speak politely to others, to follow the rules. it's almost funny, in retrospect. trying to be the ideal sorcerer, trying to keep satoru in line with the school's teachings—all that wasted time.
but the past is the past! nothing to linger on now, when there are so much more important matters to discuss—and yet, as though they have all the time in the world (which maybe they do, given satoru's current state), suguru asks:]
What do you do when your students refuse to listen?
[those first years under satoru's protection; those students suguru fought. from one touchy subject to the next, though suguru does have his reasons for this roundabout route. he's getting to it.]
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There's enough tension between them to justify an outlet.
But Satoru has lived without Suguru for over a decade, and though he likes to pretend he hasn't matured very much over the years — though he is, in some ways, even more obnoxious than he was as a teen — Satoru has learned some lessons. He has taken some of Suguru's advice to heart.
And he isn't foolish enough to believe that an argument will end in anything other than serious blows, heavy with the weight of all that happened between them, meant to hurt.
There are also all manner of harsh replies that Satoru could offer in response to each of these questions and statements that feel poised to sting — reminders of exactly where they stand, and the distance they have to cross to walk together again. But unlike Suguru, Satoru has never been out for blood.
Not even at the end.]
Suguru.
[It's the second time he's said his name. This time, his tone is imbued with warning. Satoru punctuates it by setting the apple core down on the ground between them. With a casual air, he wipes his hand on his pants.
He thinks of a bloodied student ID. He thinks of a damaged elementary school. He thinks of injured students.
And as though he's talking about a book he read or a movie he saw, his tone cheerfully conversational, he says:]
My students are off-limits.
[Satoru may be pushed into a corner, but assuming the risk of this arrangement is his responsibility alone. His students have nothing to do with this conversation, let alone the binding vow. It doesn't matter what point Suguru may have in asking this question. If there's any chance that he and Suguru will escape this train and return to their world, then Suguru does not need to know anything about them at all.]
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and yet there is an urge to poke this particular bear? something that suguru would like to think is beneath him, but it isn't. not really. not when satoru expects suguru to follow along with the rules and regulations without so much as a single complaint—and of course that isn't the entire truth. even when satoru was at his supposed worst, a self-centered high school student prone to showing off and saying the stupidest things, satoru was not thoughtless. that's why suguru was drawn to him, outside of them both being heralded as the strongest students. satoru was good; suguru could see it.
but the thought burns all the same, because it is, at its core, satoru failing to see—or failing to acknowledge—suguru's struggle for the second time.
...bitterness is every bit as counterproductive as keeping secrets. suguru knows this. suguru also knows that he'd relinquished his bitterness when he'd relinquished their bond, aware that clinging to anything would mean clinging to everything—but here he sits, anyway. needling satoru for no other reason than he can.
satoru's tone, then—it's warranted. expected, even, in that suguru knew satoru's students would be a far trickier topic than nagging—but as suguru watches satoru place the apple between them, listens to satoru's simple warning, suguru allows his bitterness to grow, knowing that this is precisely the opening he needs. my students are off-limits.]
So are mine.
[spoken in a tone possessing the same underlying steel as satoru's, though suguru chooses to chase it with a smile. his students. funny to think of them as his students, though he supposes he's taught them plenty, throughout the years. how to hold their heads high; how to avoid attracting the attention of satoru's fellow sorcerers, because are all students off limits? all children? suguru thinks not. the higher-ups had no qualms about using younger sorcerers as fodder—and beyond that, there are any number of sorcerers who would kill curse users regardless of age. that is what they are taught, after all: to defend the unworthy at any cost.
and that's the lesson satoru expects suguru to accept once more.]
You met them, once. Two girls. I know you don't have the patience for stories, so I won't tell you how I found them.
[in a filthy cage, beaten and bruised and scared, so scared, their eyes wide as they clung to one another for comfort. his girls. suffering in some backwater village while sorcerers were reminded, constantly, of their responsibility to protect those unable to protect themselves, told that monkeys were innocent—but suguru saw the truth.
(and then suguru lived it, after taking both children into his care. raising two young girls was no small feat—and now, wonder of wonders, they're almost as old as he was when he brought them home. what wouldn't he do for them? what won't he sacrifice for them? how can he make up for leaving them, though it was not his choice?)]
I want your word that you won't hurt them.
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This is what Satoru thinks as he eyes that smile on Suguru's face and hears Suguru match his tone. Suguru targeted his students intending to hurt them; Suguru left his students bloodied and broken because of a twisted goal. And targeting his students is what ultimately forced Satoru's hand. It's what led to Suguru's death.
Satoru never tracked down his family. He never tracked down Suguru. He waited until Suguru made a move, and only ended his life when it became clear that there was absolutely no going back for him. And when his family ran away, Satoru let them go.
He always had the ability to hunt down Suguru. He always had the ability to hunt down his family. And he chose not to.
You're only considerate during such awkward moments.
Satoru only has one true weakness, and it is the weakness that continuously comes back to haunt him — to push the limits of what he's willing to allow for the sake of an old friendship. Because Satoru knows that everything that Suguru has done, every terrible choice he made, stems from one event in their youth that even this far along, neither of them have ever truly been able to put behind them.
There are many ways that Satoru could react to Suguru's words. He could allow the anger that he feels is justified to build until it reaches a boiling point. He could show that these words, more than any that Suguru spoke before them, hit their target effectively and hurt. Or he could treat this as he does most things and shrug it off.
He chooses to shrug it off.
He laughs, softly.]
I never went after them, you know.
[And was that a mistake? Satoru doesn't know. He was trapped in the prison realm before he could learn who followed the impostor to Shibuya.
Satoru is aware that he's the face of everything that Suguru has come to hate. He's nestled within jujutsu society, following their rules, because it's the best way to bring about change. He takes their orders and fights their fights because it's how he keeps his students alive — and how he shows them that they can make a difference. It's how he's teaches them that they can destroy the shithole that is jujutsu society, and rebuild.
Everything he has done is because of what he witnessed happened to Suguru when they were students. Everything ties back to Riko.
Suguru doesn't see that. He sees Satoru the jujutsu sorcerer. Not the Satoru who let him walk away. Not the Satoru who allowed his family to live.
But when Satoru looks at Suguru, he sees more than the curse user. He sees more than what he has done. And that is, ultimately, why Suguru remains his biggest weakness.
Satoru lies back on the grass and places an arm over his face, no longer watching Suguru closely. Beneath his arm, under his blindfold, he closes his eyes, as though checked out from this conversation. But Satoru thinks about how significant those two girls must be to Suguru, for him to bring them up as terms for the vow. He considers how Suguru dismissed his interest in their story — in Suguru's story — as though Satoru wouldn't care to know. And he feels keenly with how tense and broken things are between them, this binding vow will be another mistake.
But Satoru has always been prone to mistakes where Suguru was concerned.
So he agrees, as though the terms are easy. As though this doesn't mean that Satoru will have to go find those two girls and guide them off of the path that Suguru set for them — two more kids put into Satoru's care because their guardian went too far off the deep end.]
I won't hurt them.
[Suguru never needed a binding vow for that. All he had to do, in his last moments, was ask for Satoru to watch over them, and Satoru would have. But that isn't what Suguru wanted for them — and Satoru knows that too.]
But that means I gotta find them.
[And help them. Teach them not to make the same mistakes as Suguru.
He shifts his arm to give Suguru a look that is mostly lost beneath his blindfold.]
You know that, right?
[It's either leave them alone or protect them. There is no middle ground of wait and see if Satoru is to keep this promise.]
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and above that, beyond that, suguru remembers satoru at the end, telling him that his family escaped. it could have been a lie; suguru knew it wasn't, and thus suguru felt something akin to gratitude, in those last moments of his life—but nothing is fair. even if satoru were to continue bending the rules, others wouldn't; someone would inevitably attempt (or be instructed) to pick off members of suguru's family, a cowardly attempt to weaken him, and would they show mercy? how many deaths would the higher-ups deem necessary; how many sorcerers would they be willing to lose?
or: the twisted calculus that is suguru's plans, suguru's logic—what suguru wants, in the end, is what is best for his family. the girls. even if he wanted to believe that satoru would never hurt them, given that satoru has purposely turned a blind eye—even if he knows that satoru would never hurt them without cause—satoru still represents the world suguru detests. satoru remains a threat.
and yet satoru is also a hope.
...maybe this is what death does to a person? forces them to reconsider and reorganize their priorities, because while suguru does not intend to die for a second, suguru never intended to die at all. he left his family adrift at sea, with some members, he's certain, climbing over one another to reach the lifeboats—but he knows the girls' loyalty. he knows what they will choose, if he can't find a way back to them, and he thinks this person stretched out on the grass will provide a better option.
so suguru holds satoru's hidden gaze, for a time. relying on the familiar weight of it.]
They won't like it, [he confirms, thinking of the fuss they're sure to make, the trouble they're sure to cause,] but you can convince them. [well—] Eventually. They know who you were.
[were. a choice—but suguru doesn't linger on it, his smile shrinking as he is caught between two realities: satoru, the sorcerer, and satoru, the person. one suguru does not trust; one suguru trusts above so many others, when it comes to that which is most important.
nothing is fair.
quietly, then, and every bit as serious as satoru is trying not to be:]
Don't take them back.
[suguru doesn't need to say where, surely; satoru should know.]
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But he keeps that question to himself.
The initial request itself is a large ask. For Satoru to keep his promise not to hurt the girls, he has to make sure they don't follow in Suguru's footsteps. He has to turn them away from life as curse users and undo what he assumes Suguru taught them. He has to try to convince them of his plan for change.
And he has to promise to do so without knowing the state of the world, since he was trapped in the prison realm before boarding this train.
It'll be challenging, but not impossible. They won't be the first kids that Satoru has helped steer in the right direction, even if they will likely be the most difficult — and even though they'll probably (rightfully) look at him as Suguru's killer. He won't get a free pass with them as he did with Megumi, but Satoru isn't the only one who can help them. His students have a knack for integrating outsiders into their group.
But it's the second part of the request — the part he knew was coming — that makes this promise all the more complicated.]
You'd make me swear to that?
[It would be in their best interests to go to the school. To make friends with sorcerers their age. To learn that they don't have to be left behind. To keep them alive, and to keep them from making the same mistakes as Suguru.
What is he supposed to do with two girls who won't fit in with normal human society, but that he's bound to keep out of jujutsu society as a whole? What kind of future is there for them, when they're so trapped, being a curse user will seem like their only option forward?
Satoru can't make a case for the alternative, because to explain that there are some powerful students in his care would put them on Suguru's radar. He can't describe his plans for upsetting jujutsu society as a whole, because Suguru will know to strike when change is in air and the hierarchy is weak. He can't promise that the girls won't get hurt if they do go to the school, because that's an impossible vow to keep.
He groans, covering his face with his arm again.]
Fine! Fine. I won't take them there. But if they choose to go on their own, I'm not gonna stop them.
[And it's possible they will, in time. If they do truly come to trust Satoru. If it really is possible that he can convince them to turn their backs on the path that he failed to convince Suguru to leave, all those years ago.]
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but suguru did not free the girls from one cage just to shove them into another. they deserve their freedom.
and their freedom is why, as satoru drops his arm back over his half-hidden face, suguru takes satoru's words in stride. this was something he'd accounted for, of course. the possibility that, if left in satoru's care, the girls may grow curious, may decide to follow satoru back to the school—and this is nothing as simple as, say, the girls demanding to visit some monkey-owned sweets shop. choosing to attend the school would be turning their backs on all that suguru taught them.
it isn't what suguru wants for them, no. he doesn't want the girls caught up in the marathon that is sorcery, risking their lives for those who will never understand—but it would be their choice. their choice. if they are to survive, they must find meaning in the world without him.
(and wouldn't he be partially to blame, in the end? honesty was telling the girls why he hated the system he chose to leave—but also answering their questions about the people caught within it. the people he'd once cared for.)]
If that's what they choose, [he agrees, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he thinks of how stubborn they are? of the two of them following him after a family meeting, walking side-by-side in the shelter of his shadow. master geto, master geto—] They've always made their own decisions. I trust them.
[he does. their commitment is unquestionable, which he's sure will frustrate satoru to no end—and for a moment, just a moment, satoru thinks of other things he wishes he could demand of satoru. don't act like a child when you argue with them; they'll never respect you. never leave money with nanako; she has a sweet tooth to rival yours. always, always, treat them well. remember that i cared for them.
now, however, it's suguru's turn to close his eyes? the briefest break before he cracks them open once more, knowing that demanding satoru never kill him would have rendered this entire topic obsolete—but suguru knows his worth, and suguru knows his limits. so, simply:]
That's all.
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But now, lying on the ground and listening to Suguru speak, Satoru understands just how long a decade truly is. Long enough for Suguru to establish a family in more than mere name. Long enough for him to love two girls enough to respect their ability to make their own decisions. Long enough for Suguru to sound less a curse user and more a parent.
Long enough the chasm between them to grow so wide that they need a binding vow to cross it.
Satoru shifts his arm, opens his eyes, and looks at the shape of the trees above him.]
Honesty. And two teenage girls.
[He laughs because it sounds so simple, framed like that. But honesty is a risk, and two teenage girls are a complicated lifelong investment.
But they're important to Suguru. That much is clear.
And Satoru is still tired. The nap and the apple have taken the edge off, but there's no telling how much longer they'll be on this train. A train that has the power to steal his techniques, hide his eyes, and trap the King of Curses in here with him. Suguru isn't asking for too much, considering what he is sacrificing by aligning himself with Satoru. He hasn't requested a future pardon or to be given free reign upon their escape, demands that Satoru would easily turn down.
His requests are reasonable, and while Satoru wouldn't have expected Suguru to make all manner of ridiculous demands, the knowledge that he would temper his desires to this degree exacerbates that heavy feeling in his chest. Given the opportunity to ask for anything, Suguru has shown that he boils down to one clear desire: the protection of two girls.
There is still goodness within Suguru, no matter how twisted and warped it has become. And that is why, even now, that small spark of trust still exists within Satoru.
It's why he agrees.]
Good stuff.
[He weighs these requests against the time frame of a while, and says, his voice a little muffled by his sleeve:]
Until we find the exit.
[Rather than holding Suguru to his vow until they succeed in their escape, Satoru decides to draw the finish line right before they leave. That way, should Suguru choose to act against him or otherwise return to his path, they can resolve matters here, instead of bringing another problem back home with them.]
Deal?
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but if anyone knows that suguru is far from untouchable, it's satoru.
and as uncomfortable as it is to be reminded that he is vulnerable, suguru thinks that maybe, just maybe, satoru is uncomfortable, too. it must be odd, being confronted with—or reminded of—the fact that an enemy is a person? that suguru severed old ties to forge new ones, establishing a new routine, a new life, that satoru is only allowed into when it all comes crashing down. satoru, left to pick up the pieces. suguru knows this is selfish.
this, however, remains his price, which he knows satoru will pay; it's simply a matter of how long satoru expects him to cooperate in return, which—well. until we find the exit. suguru stills for a moment, considering opportunities, risks—
—before offering a barely audible hum.]
Deal.
[how many times have they done this? made "deals," albeit of a far more lighthearted nature. this casual approach is nostalgic when it absolutely shouldn't be—and yet, as suguru watches satoru do nothing at all, suguru feels that bitterness just barely give way, allowing something akin to fondness to make its presence known.
...how odd. how exhausting. when this is over, suguru will need to find somewhere quiet and satoru-free to recuperate.]
You could at least sit up for this, you know.
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But a binding vow is as it is labeled: binding. A sealing of a promise with cursed energy, the violation of which leads to significant penalties. It's a big deal. For Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in generations, to make a binding vow with anyone is an even bigger deal. Making it with an enemy is huge.
Which is why Satoru drags his feet.]
We don't have to treat this as seriously as the geezers do.
[Meaning the higher-ups, who follow all sorts of rituals in the creation of binding vows. Those traditions are boring and unnecessary, when all he and Suguru need to do initiating the binding of their cursed energy.
But it's an empty protest. He's already moving, though he takes his time in complying — stretching his arm above his head, rubbing his eyes through his blindfold, and then slowly working himself up into a casual sitting position.]
You do the honors.
[Of stating the terms in full, since Suguru has always been better at formalities than Satoru. Meanwhile, Satoru will tug down his blindfold to watch and ensure the binding successfully takes.
And to look at Suguru as he gives up his freedom to work alongside him once more.]
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and yet the simplest things often prove the most insidious, somehow slipping through cracks that should not exist. they make it easy to remember, to miss, to mourn the way things used to be; they make suguru want to step closer to satoru when he should be taking three steps back, and that's dangerous, so dangerous. for both of them. neither of them can afford to let the other in.
so while they wouldn't have needed to treat this so seriously, once upon a time? while they wouldn't have needed to make this vow at all? now they need to draw this line in the sand—which is why, as satoru makes a show of sitting up, suguru calmly plucks the seed from his lap, slipping it into his robes before he purposely, pointedly, pushes himself to his feet. satoru allowing suguru to take the reins is—well. it would have been par for the course, a decade back; now it feels like a tease and a test, twisted together.
it's fine. suguru does not intend to rock the boat at this stage, and so, coolly calmly:]
Until we find a way off this train, I, Suguru Geto, swear to work alongside you. I swear to abide by the rules and regulations of a jujutsu sorcerer.
[which still burns? threatens to stick in his throat, honestly, but he pushes past it with feigned ease, eyes betraying nothing as they fall to satoru's.]
And you, Satoru Gojo, swear to be honest.
[the briefest pause, then, as suguru considers how to word the most pressing part of this arrangement—but it's nothing. a barely noticeable break as he holds out his right hand, palm facing upward, for satoru to take, to haul himself up—if he so chooses. a tease and a test of suguru's own design.]
You swear that, when you return, you will neither harm Mimiko or Nanako, nor bring them to the school against their will.
[so formal. so important.]
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Raised to be the strongest from the moment he opened his Six Eyes, his identity as the most important member of the Gojo clan — and future most important sorcerer of all the clans — was all he had. It was all that mattered. Everyone else was just there, either to help or try (and fail) to hinder. He was used to getting everything he could possibly want but nothing that he truly needed, and it affected his view of the world around him.
And then he went to school and met Suguru.
Suguru was the only one who stood up to him — the only one capable of holding his own against him. He was the only one who had the gall to chide him for his behavior, and the only one who didn't judge him for his vulnerabilities. Suguru was his one and only best friend — and Satoru believed he would always be there.
Satoru took him for granted. Despite his Six Eyes and all the power at his disposal — despite all his training to truly become the strongest, so that he would never repeat his failures in fighting against Toji Fushiguro — he didn't see what he needed to see most. And while that singular mistake would set the foundation for his future plans — while it would force him to grow up and do something about the state of jujutsu society — it cost him the single, most important person in his life.
Now, looking at the hand that is extended to him and then meeting Suguru's eyes, Satoru sees him. Suguru can breeze through the formal words and cover his pauses all he wants, but Satoru knows where and how to look. He doesn't make the same mistake.
And he knows that this isn't easy. He knows that he is putting Suguru in a box to which Suguru would not return if he had other options — a deal he would have rejected, if Satoru would not promise to keep two teenage girls safe. He knows that this vow costs more than mere words; it costs the values and beliefs that Suguru built up around himself when he saw jujutsu society for what it was.
For all that is broken between them, for all that Suguru's death is on his hands, for all that Suguru thought about killing him or taking his eyes or partnering up with Sukuna — he sees Suguru. More than the curse user. More than his deeds.
And he sees himself, extending his hand and setting it atop Suguru's with a thin layer of Infinity between them. He sees himself taking too big a risk, making dangerous promises, and setting himself up for an inevitability at the end of this binding vow. He sees himself handing over small truths, little pieces of himself in the form of honesty, that Suguru will take and hold close, and eventually turn against him. Satoru sees himself giving in to his only weakness yet again.
But he's learned his lesson about taking Suguru for granted. As he hoists himself up with his Infinity between their palms, he decides to give Suguru something he should have long ago: a supportive touch. A gesture, to show that for all that is marred between them, for all that they will likely end up hurting each other in the end — he sees, and he knows.
Before their cursed energy binds them together, Satoru stands and allows Suguru into his Infinity. Their palms meet, skin to skin, and Satoru clasps his hand. He steps closer, leaning in until his forehead barely brushes against Suguru's.
He says:]
I swear.
[Never one to respect lines in the sand or decorum of any kind, Satoru steps right across Suguru's boundary with a tease and a test —
and one final measure of trust.]
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it doesn't matter that suguru expected this, just as it doesn't matter that this is far from the first time suguru has experienced this. there is something off—wrong—about touching satoru without touching him at all, because it serves as yet another measure of how everything between them has changed. suguru, despite himself, remembers what it was like to be allowed in.
he does not expect satoru to let him in once more.
but satoru at his best, as suguru knows, is satoru breaking the rules, testing the limits, pushing the boundaries—so how quintessentially him, really, to allow suguru in when suguru least expects it? to allow suguru a moment—just a moment—to process the warmth of his skin, the ease with which their hands fit together, before he takes it that much further, leaning into suguru's space with no hesitation whatsoever. as though this closeness is his right.
suguru should take this as a warning, of sorts. a gentle reminder that he has no way to keep satoru at bay—except that it wouldn't matter if he did. he knows this. satoru would always, always, find a way through, not because he is the strongest—but because after all of these years, he remains the one thing suguru can't let go.
and that's what makes satoru so very dangerous. techniques can be accounted for, planned around; emotions, however, cannot, as evidenced by the way suguru's chest tightens as he holds satoru's gaze. what would he have done ten years ago? step on satoru's toes? kiss the corner of satoru's mouth in the hopes of flustering him? suguru wonders, briefly, if such a trick would still work—but the thought leaves him as a sigh, so soft it's almost impossible to hear. what matters now is the prickle of satoru's cursed energy, a sensation every bit as familiar as satoru's touch. that is what suguru should focus on; that is where suguru should direct his full attention.
but while suguru's eyes do drop to their hands, noting that sliver of space which no longer exists, leans infinitesimally closer? not quite willing to match satoru's daring; unable to resist satoru's pull. some things never change.]
I swear.
[a binding vow is such a simple thing, in theory. suguru speaks the words and allows his cursed energy to mingle with satoru's, a sort of push-and-pull that is all that is required to lock them into an entirely new form of coexistence—but as suguru looks back up at satoru, he thinks of the complexities. binding vow or no, they do not fit together as easily as they once did.
and that is what sends suguru pulling away, after lingering for a second longer: the thought that they could. maybe.]