How dare he?!
The question gripped Satoru Gojo like no other. Repeated a hundred, no, a thousand times, Satoru's head was in its hold, a vice ever squeezing tighter. How DARE he?!
Letting someone in wasn't supposed to be like this. Satoru knew that he was a pain, knew his personality could use some tune-ups, but he had finally found someone to trust. To confide in. Someone who believed in him, and who had earned his faith.
That someone was now walking away from him, back turned, black hair swaying.
All Satoru felt was fury. It melted his kindness, his affection liquefying into molten wrath that flowed through him until it settled in the hand slowly raising to head-height. His fingers curled back, the gesture reminiscent of someone about to flick an insect. He aimed, eyes widening, the still-novel feeling of using hollow purple gathering at his fingertips.
He aimed, his best friend's figure retreating into the distance. For a moment, Geto's hair brushing against his back instead of being tied up in a bun was so startlingly unfamiliar that Satoru had to take a breath before re-centering himself.
He aimed, hand beginning to shake, as his other half's silhouette faded from view. The burn of hot tears began to form beneath his eyelids and the watery sensation interrupted his concentration, the hollow purple fading from existence.
Satoru's arm fell, and with it, his childish hope for saving Geto from himself. Satoru knew in his soul that his friend was a lost cause, had seen the depths of despair in Geto's lifeless eyes.
What if he had noticed sooner? What if he had taken Geto more seriously? How come Geto didn't confide in him? Was he worthy of being called the strongest if he couldn't even protect two people?
Riko Amani's lifeless body flashed before his eyes, the weight of her tiny, limp form ghosting over his hands.
Hands that had killed the sorcerer killer, that had tolled out judgment and justice but never peace. Hands that had ended the lives of hundreds of cursed spirits, dozens of people.
Hands that couldn't kill when it mattered. He knew Geto would slaughter more people. He knew it was his duty to stop him. Knew where Geto would be, how he would proceed, the actions he would take. The sheer amount of lives lost would be unfathomable. Satoru wasn't stupid, he knew all of this.
He knew everything about Geto Suguru.
And still, he couldn't do it.
Maybe in a few years, he would be healed enough to take Geto on. Maybe he would be able to stand before his best friend and take his life, as the world begged him to. After all, there was no one else who could do it.
They were the strongest.
Satoru turned, shoving his hands in his pockets. His white hair tickled his forehead as a gentle breeze blew across his face. The sidewalk around him, bustling with crowds of people, felt empty and meaningless as he walked away from the only person who had ever truly understood him.
Who had turned their back on him first, because they couldn't handle being the strongest and still failing anyways.
It was lonely at the top.