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[the game they played was dangerous; to continue it would be nothing short of stupid, suguru knows, and yet? and yet. after sukuna proved to be everything suguru expected—everything suguru remembered from the tales he'd paid close attention to in school, dedicated pupil that he was—suguru was forced to reexamine his (limited) options. to ignore sukuna would be careless; to join forces with sukuna would be short-sighted; to attempt to take control of sukuna would be impossible.
and there is always the option of forging ahead alone, counting on sukuna to wear satoru down—but as suguru makes camp one night, curses standing gaurd, suguru finds himself reaching for his phone...
...only to pause when accessing the directory. his own profile is there, annoyingly descriptive as it is—but it's satoru's that catches his eye? satoru's that gives him pause, because those symbols are—
well. before he can rethink his current course, suguru taps that cutesy envelope.]
Your taste in friends is almost as bad as your taste in usernames.
[must be nice to pick your own, though :/ this is favoritism]
and there is always the option of forging ahead alone, counting on sukuna to wear satoru down—but as suguru makes camp one night, curses standing gaurd, suguru finds himself reaching for his phone...
...only to pause when accessing the directory. his own profile is there, annoyingly descriptive as it is—but it's satoru's that catches his eye? satoru's that gives him pause, because those symbols are—
well. before he can rethink his current course, suguru taps that cutesy envelope.]
Your taste in friends is almost as bad as your taste in usernames.
[must be nice to pick your own, though :/ this is favoritism]
[Satoru, who normally doesn't sleep much and especially not this early in the evening, is actually dozing when Suguru messages him. He's been taking catnaps here in there, trying to keep his technique active while still doing what he can to replenish his energy. It's bought him some extra time, but it isn't doing the trick anymore. He's not sure how much longer he can go before he hits his limit. He hasn't pushed himself this far in a very long time, and he no longer has a sense for how much each of his abilities drains from his finite supply of energy.
As such, his reply takes a while to arrive, Satoru having to blink away a budding headache in order to look at the bright screen of his phone. And despite the note upon which they ended during their meeting in the museum, and the threat that Suguru presents to him in this very car — far enough to be a safe distance away but close enough that Satoru can sense his movements — he still grins down at the message.
Old habits die hard — just like old jokes between friends.
And because he's both pleased with himself for his choice in usernames and thoroughly enjoying Suguru's comment about it, he texts:]
still using cheat codes huh
[And still talking to Satoru Gojo, the ultimate cheat code in jujutsu society.
Even though Suguru managed to earn that extra life after all.]
As such, his reply takes a while to arrive, Satoru having to blink away a budding headache in order to look at the bright screen of his phone. And despite the note upon which they ended during their meeting in the museum, and the threat that Suguru presents to him in this very car — far enough to be a safe distance away but close enough that Satoru can sense his movements — he still grins down at the message.
Old habits die hard — just like old jokes between friends.
And because he's both pleased with himself for his choice in usernames and thoroughly enjoying Suguru's comment about it, he texts:]
still using cheat codes huh
[And still talking to Satoru Gojo, the ultimate cheat code in jujutsu society.
Even though Suguru managed to earn that extra life after all.]
[suguru thinks, at first, that satoru has chosen to ignore him for a time? that if satoru is not asleep, then satoru is busy annoying someone else—because that's what satoru is best at. that's what satoru should do. the top of the world is a lonely place to be, but while satoru is well accustomed to it, suguru once knew the truth: that satoru is not very good at being alone.
suguru's phone, however, eventually does buzz—and suguru is once again left staring at his screen, confronted by further proof that satoru remembers that second-to-last meeting of theirs every bit as clearly as he does. it shouldn't matter, in the grand scheme of things; it absolutely does.]
Sometimes.
The prize is usually better.
[even if talking to satoru isn't the worst prize in the world.]
suguru's phone, however, eventually does buzz—and suguru is once again left staring at his screen, confronted by further proof that satoru remembers that second-to-last meeting of theirs every bit as clearly as he does. it shouldn't matter, in the grand scheme of things; it absolutely does.]
Sometimes.
The prize is usually better.
[even if talking to satoru isn't the worst prize in the world.]
[In a sense, the reply had been a form of bait — a way of fishing to see if Suguru remembered that long-ago meeting with as much clarity as Satoru does. Satoru had safely kept it to himself for years, tucked away, hidden from the knowledge of the higher-ups and colleagues alike. That memory now feels stark and clear after being carefully buried for so long. Once examined only in the most difficult moments after Suguru's death, it now persists at the surface of his mind, unearthed by a strange and out-of-place ting.
But Suguru doesn't rise to the provocation. His messages do not indicate that what Satoru heard while sitting beside him was a trinket from long ago. The prize is usually better, Suguru says. Technically, his last prize was the same as what he now receives: Satoru himself, in all his annoying glory.
Now Satoru thinks of their last conversation — and Suguru's parting words — and wonders if he heard wrong. Maybe it wasn't the charm at all. Or maybe the conductor dug it out of history's trash bin because they have a wry sense of humor. Maybe the sound was meant to sting.
All the more reason for Satoru to find the train's higher-ups on his way out.]
you could've picked something else
[As in, not contacted Satoru at all. Entertained his other options for a little while. Maybe hung out with Sukuna instead, given Suguru's quip about Satoru's taste in friends.]
but the other options really aren't your style
[Because Satoru has been talking to a lot of people on this train. They aren't what Suguru would consider a worthy prize.]
so you get what you get!
[And he gets Satoru's full attention now, because he is alone, and as Suguru is aware, he is not very good at it; he could use the company as he staves away his fatigue.]
But Suguru doesn't rise to the provocation. His messages do not indicate that what Satoru heard while sitting beside him was a trinket from long ago. The prize is usually better, Suguru says. Technically, his last prize was the same as what he now receives: Satoru himself, in all his annoying glory.
Now Satoru thinks of their last conversation — and Suguru's parting words — and wonders if he heard wrong. Maybe it wasn't the charm at all. Or maybe the conductor dug it out of history's trash bin because they have a wry sense of humor. Maybe the sound was meant to sting.
All the more reason for Satoru to find the train's higher-ups on his way out.]
you could've picked something else
[As in, not contacted Satoru at all. Entertained his other options for a little while. Maybe hung out with Sukuna instead, given Suguru's quip about Satoru's taste in friends.]
but the other options really aren't your style
[Because Satoru has been talking to a lot of people on this train. They aren't what Suguru would consider a worthy prize.]
so you get what you get!
[And he gets Satoru's full attention now, because he is alone, and as Suguru is aware, he is not very good at it; he could use the company as he staves away his fatigue.]
[suguru's last prize was satoru in person, standing in the rain he could not feel; suguru's last prize was the very charm that remains tucked away in his robes. the prizes were better, once—but maybe it's better like this? to speak via texts as opposed to speaking face-to-face, because their last meeting—sitting side-by-side on the floor, closer than they'd been in years but somehow farther apart than ever—proved to be far more difficult than suguru would care to admit.
and this, too, is difficult, in that satoru brushes him aside with apparent ease. you could've picked something else. this is not how things used to go—but again: maybe it's better like this.]
Even if they were, it's no fun if I have to pick.
[suguru taking satoru's earlier words and twisting them right back around, simply because he can. another thing he can do: end this conversation here. it doesn't seem like it's going to amount to anything, or make his decision any easier to make—and yet.]
I should have asked what I was winning.
But that's no fun, either.
[for the games they play, anyway.]
and this, too, is difficult, in that satoru brushes him aside with apparent ease. you could've picked something else. this is not how things used to go—but again: maybe it's better like this.]
Even if they were, it's no fun if I have to pick.
[suguru taking satoru's earlier words and twisting them right back around, simply because he can. another thing he can do: end this conversation here. it doesn't seem like it's going to amount to anything, or make his decision any easier to make—and yet.]
I should have asked what I was winning.
But that's no fun, either.
[for the games they play, anyway.]
[Those words were his own, spoken only days ago, as he sat beside Suguru for the first time in years to tell him, in his own way, that he was vulnerable — to offer him a glimpse at what Satoru had been concealing from the rest of the train by behaving as untouchable as ever. As Suguru inferred — as only Suguru could infer — he is tired. He is worried. The clock is ticking.
But Satoru had chosen his own prize, hadn't he? He had chosen Suguru, and in turn, he had asked Suguru to choose him. It was a selfish request as much as it was a request born out of the conditions in which he exists on this train. Because if Suguru accepts his terms, if Suguru chooses him over his goals, over alliances with anyone else who may exist on this train, then Suguru has a chance.
Then Satoru, hands full and bloodied as they already are, will not need to repeat history.
And when Satoru hits his limit for the first time in years, his weaknesses will not be exploited. He will not look upon a train full of victims. And he will not be alone.
So, initially, he thinks to text in the same manner he would have upon stirring up a fight when they were younger: You complaining? Once, everything could be resolved with a scuffle on school grounds, Satoru goading Suguru into a fight, and the two of them having it out until they were tired but laughing, dragged inside by Yaga for a scolding.
But that second sentence makes him pause. He had said that once, too, hadn't he? Because the game was almost over, and Satoru didn't want him to end it so quickly — had cheated in his own way, by withholding an answer and asking for more.
And Satoru, supporting cheating through both username and antics both, may not have Suguru's answer, but he gives him more.]
1000 boxes of hot stamping foil wouldn't fit on this train anyway
[Maybe in theory, this expansive car could accommodate them, but certainly not thematically. Although, Satoru would have enjoyed arriving with something so superfluous assigned to him in lieu of his glasses, toting them around from car to car until Suguru gave him the correct answer to some nonsense question.
But the point is: he remembers.
And the prizes here suck, for them both. They didn't truly get to set the terms themselves, so why ask what they'll be? They don't get to pick their hell.
But they do get to pick how they face it, and Satoru, worn down and bored, decides to face it as he once faced a different kind of hell.]
play a different game with me
But Satoru had chosen his own prize, hadn't he? He had chosen Suguru, and in turn, he had asked Suguru to choose him. It was a selfish request as much as it was a request born out of the conditions in which he exists on this train. Because if Suguru accepts his terms, if Suguru chooses him over his goals, over alliances with anyone else who may exist on this train, then Suguru has a chance.
Then Satoru, hands full and bloodied as they already are, will not need to repeat history.
And when Satoru hits his limit for the first time in years, his weaknesses will not be exploited. He will not look upon a train full of victims. And he will not be alone.
So, initially, he thinks to text in the same manner he would have upon stirring up a fight when they were younger: You complaining? Once, everything could be resolved with a scuffle on school grounds, Satoru goading Suguru into a fight, and the two of them having it out until they were tired but laughing, dragged inside by Yaga for a scolding.
But that second sentence makes him pause. He had said that once, too, hadn't he? Because the game was almost over, and Satoru didn't want him to end it so quickly — had cheated in his own way, by withholding an answer and asking for more.
And Satoru, supporting cheating through both username and antics both, may not have Suguru's answer, but he gives him more.]
1000 boxes of hot stamping foil wouldn't fit on this train anyway
[Maybe in theory, this expansive car could accommodate them, but certainly not thematically. Although, Satoru would have enjoyed arriving with something so superfluous assigned to him in lieu of his glasses, toting them around from car to car until Suguru gave him the correct answer to some nonsense question.
But the point is: he remembers.
And the prizes here suck, for them both. They didn't truly get to set the terms themselves, so why ask what they'll be? They don't get to pick their hell.
But they do get to pick how they face it, and Satoru, worn down and bored, decides to face it as he once faced a different kind of hell.]
play a different game with me
[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.]
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.]
[Satoru intended to leave the area.
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.]
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.]
(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.]
Edited 2021-08-23 00:26 (UTC)
[there is the feeling that this conversation is—that they are—teetering on the edge of something dangerous? something that should remain buried. they are not the same people who met in that narrow alley, drawing closer and closer despite having every reason not to; they can no longer afford to let the past come creeping into the present.
or, at the very least: suguru can't afford such a thing. he's died once; he has no desire to die a second time.
but satoru brings up that joke of a prize, just as stupid now as it was then—and this, more than anything, is what makes satoru dangerous? the fact that satoru is suguru's past. suguru thought he'd left it behind; he'd gone to such lengths to ensure that nothing would stand between him and what he needed to do, and yet all it takes is satoru texting him, reminding him of old games before asking him to start a new ones, to bring it all rushing right back.
all the more reason for suguru to distance himself. (what was he even thinking, texting satoru in the first place? digging for information that shouldn't matter.)]
One prize is enough for now.
[and they have seeds to gather, so now that suguru's initial (and unasked) question has been answered—goodbye, satoru. for now.]
or, at the very least: suguru can't afford such a thing. he's died once; he has no desire to die a second time.
but satoru brings up that joke of a prize, just as stupid now as it was then—and this, more than anything, is what makes satoru dangerous? the fact that satoru is suguru's past. suguru thought he'd left it behind; he'd gone to such lengths to ensure that nothing would stand between him and what he needed to do, and yet all it takes is satoru texting him, reminding him of old games before asking him to start a new ones, to bring it all rushing right back.
all the more reason for suguru to distance himself. (what was he even thinking, texting satoru in the first place? digging for information that shouldn't matter.)]
One prize is enough for now.
[and they have seeds to gather, so now that suguru's initial (and unasked) question has been answered—goodbye, satoru. for now.]
[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.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
Edited 2021-08-24 21:04 (UTC)
[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.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
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?)]
I want your word that you won't hurt them.
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.
[It isn't a fair comparison.
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.]
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.]
[ She didn't want to come back here but! But!!!! The survey had said she needed to teach someone something or have someone else teach her something, and who better to teach than an actual teacher?
Even if he suxxxxx. ]
you're a teacher right
Even if he suxxxxx. ]
you're a teacher right
[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.]
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.]
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.]
[If it isn't his #1 student! Doing his hard work for him by reaching out to him first!]
you decided to rethink that homework assignment
didn't you
[At least this is all over text so she can't see his grin. His students always come back, no matter how annoying he is!]
you decided to rethink that homework assignment
didn't you
[At least this is all over text so she can't see his grin. His students always come back, no matter how annoying he is!]
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