A/N: Quick question. You ever write something and your brain just burns after? That's how my brain feels with this one. It's an amazing feeling that I haven't felt while writing something in a long, long, LONG time. Hopefully the thrills I got writing this behemoth of a chapter shows in the final product. That's all I can say. Enjoy! Thanks for reading! Best wishes and God bless you all.
Disclaimer: Jujutsu Kaisen belongs to Gege Akutami and other copyright holders. This work is a Fanfiction. I only own my original characters and this insane plot.
Warnings: I will probably raise the rating of this story to M after this chapter. There's some heavy violence in this chapter and just some generally heavy themes once we get to Gojo's section...because this man has been through a lot but just carries on like a gigantic dork. And eventually, there'll probably be more blood/gore in the story so...we gotta increase the rating just for that alone. Otherwise...I can't think of anything else in here that really needs a warning. An explanation maybe, but not a warning. You guys will see in a bit. Let's hit it!
December 15th, 2017
Tokyo, Japan – Shibuya District
6:51pm
Modeling is more than people think.
The profession requires a level of poise difficult to master, even for the most talented in the field. Projecting perfection requires more than a pretty face, or ideal body proportions maintained through diet and exercise. Superficial elements like that open doors, but they won't keep you in the industry for long.
A great model has mastery over their body. They are mutable creatures capable of transforming themselves into anything the masses demand regardless of what they feel. As air currents bend around obstacles in their path, so too does a model shift to the whims of artists who desire a living canvas.
And some of those artists are complete sadists.
Case in point, most of my early years in Paris were spent traversing the most precarious runways imaginable while wearing cartoonishly boxy outfits and the tallest, thinnest heels in existence.
As much as I hated it then, I'm grateful for every slippery surface I learned to stand firm on.
"SWOOOSH!"
"BOOM!"
Those experiences are paying off as I dash through the obstacle course of Broomstick Man's violent crusade.
"KA-CHING!"
Gritting my teeth, I duck sharply to my right to avoid the empty vehicle flying overhead. It sails past me, landing with a loud pop of fracturing metal and glass not far from where I'd been mere seconds ago, but there's no time to dwell on how stupidly dangerous my search for answers has become.
I was ordering Dango twenty minutes ago and now I'm running blindly through an impossibly thick mist where the only cues to dance around incoming objects are a series of ear-splitting explosions and the bellowing wails of struggle mixed with rumbles of unrepentant glee.
Do superpowers make people high? Cause it sounds like Broomstick Man is high.
A stray piece of glass flies by, cutting my cheek. Beyond the initial sting and the irritation that comes from knowing this little mishap could be the end of my paychecks for a bit, I feel like the luck of the Irish is kicking in fierce right now. Of course my inner elation soon shifts to the sinking feeling that the luck tied to my heritage is going to run out. With a myriad of debris hurling itself in every direction, something is going to impale me eventually. It's just a matter of when...
And when might be now!
"KA-CHING!"
With a loud shriek, I slide down against the pavement with one leg extended forward and the other stretched behind my back. A lamppost flies over me an instant later, missing its chance to behead me by less than a meter.
My success in avoiding death so far has come down to steady feet, quick reflexes, and flexibility.
That last one is really being tested…along with my patience.
"My thighs aren't going to be happy with that in the morning," I mutter, wincing when the lamppost crashes against the ground behind me. "Seriously, what is this guy on!?"
"SWOOSH!"
Another vicious gust of unnatural wind brushes past, forcing me to shield my eyes as I extract myself from the asphalt. My knee pops at the movement, signaling to me that I might be a little old for epic anime shenanigans.
Leave this place now!
Hearing the wraith's voice in my head is a good sign though. It means I'm close. If only this fog would let up some, I could…
"BOOM!"
The ground shakes violently beneath me for a handful of seconds.
You will get hurt. Please…
I still can't understand why this thing cares about my well-being to the point that it is actively trying to warn me while in the middle of a battle I can't even see thanks to this maddening mist.
"ZAP!"
"MEOW!"
Fatty Tuna's strangled cry directs me forward again.
"BOOM!"
The fog becomes less dense as I go, slowly revealing an empty square separating the front entrance of the Indigo Hotel and the bank across the street.
"Me-ow…"
Twisting my head toward the sound, I spot Fatty Tuna sprawled beneath an inactive traffic light.
"CRASH!"
"Are you alright?" I ask the feline once I'm kneeling next to him, ignoring my unfinished business with the wraith for now. "Where does it hurt?"
He extends his left paw. Blood oozes from the top of it, but it's a relatively shallow cut.
"Anywhere else?"
Another low grumble escapes past his teeth as he rolls slightly, baring his stomach to reveal a series of thin slashes along his fur. Thankfully, none of them are deep enough to worry about, but I'm sure they sting terribly.
"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
Stroking the top of his head, I motion for Fatty Tuna to turn back over. He complies easily, mewling in appreciation for the affection before shifting to stare at me with watery violet eyes.
"Meow..."
My poor baby is exhausted.
"CRASH!"
With a sigh, I take another few seconds to stroke him behind his fuzzy ears.
"Be a good boy and wait here for me here, okay?"
Fatty Tuna shakes his head, trying his best to stand on shaky legs the instant the words leave my mouth, but the effort fails him. He collapses into my arms with a pitiful moan that I can't help but chuckle at.
"I'll be alright," I whisper, hugging him around his thick neck. "I promise. Rest."
He's reluctant to let me leave. I can feel it in how he strains to look up at me when I gently lower him back to the pavement.
A part of me doesn't want to go either, but this opportunity to learn the truth behind Angelica's disappearance isn't likely to come again. I have to go after it, regardless of the risk.
"BOOM!"
The roar of the fight is becoming less chaotic now.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," I tell Fatty Tuna, offering him a confident smile and a thumbs up.
On the inside, though determined to close the book on this part of my past, I have no idea what good can come from doing so.
…
I've lived my whole life without knowing what really happened that day.
…
Now that I know Angelica didn't die…
…
It leaves questions about how she's lived since then…
…
There are other questions too, questions I'm not sure I want answers to at all.
…
I'm too used to running away it seems.
…
The only way I know how to combat the impulse is to try something different now.
…
Because I'm tired too.
…
I'm tired of lying to myself.
So, rather than taking the easy out offered to me, I sprint through the thinning mists toward the hiss of supernatural forces colliding against one another.
The path toward life is straight and narrow.
It's difficult and full of pain too.
That's why so few ever find it.
But as I run, I feel the pulse of the wraith's lingering energy vibrating through my chest and the dry sting of my own energy escaping through my eyes.
It hurts. All of it hurts.
…
"SWOOSH!"
A gasp rips itself from my throat at how close the rush of air is. My footsteps cease as I glance up at the black sky.
…
I truly see him then…this man I know nothing about.
…
With short, snow-white hair swaying behind his head, he somersaults through the wind with the demon of my nightmares caught in his grasp. His methodical, blindingly fast motions summon whispers of ecstasy bound to memories of blades gliding over ice.
…
And there, in the void of his intense gaze, my heart comes alive.
…
Another deafening screech of sound echoes through the area when he slams the wraith's body into the concrete, cracking its surface with the sheer force of his energy.
Hundreds of eyes cycling through a spectrum of colors meet mine.
Eventually…they settle on an electric blue that pierces straight down to my soul.
...
I'm sorry.
The man forcefully drags the monster across the road, leaving a thick trail of black blood in his wake.
Please… Go…
Even while in intense pain, this creature asks me to save myself.
…
I won't.
…
My presence here isn't just about finding answers anymore.
…
What I want out of this…
…
What I really need is…
…
The mysterious man, with his back facing me, kicks against the center of the wraith's chest. It bounces off the pavement like a rock skipping along ocean waves.
Another cry of agony bursts inside my mind, and for a split second, all I can see is the crumpled form of my sister.
…
Twenty-six years…
…
The wraith trembles the same way my sister did…
…
Black blood drips from its body. That same blood flowed down my sister's arm…
…
I should be happy.
…
How often have I dreamed of justice like this? How long have I yearned for someone to take vengeance for all the despair I couldn't escape thanks to this monster's actions?
…
Too long.
…
Far too long.
…
A flicker of crimson takes shape above his palm.
He can deliver sweet retribution for me right here and now, but…
…
I don't want him to. Not anymore.
…
Forgive me…
…
My body moves of its own accord at that point. One might say instinct took over, but the path I've chosen is based on a sobering, instantaneous notion an outsider looking in would call unreasonable and childish.
Perhaps it is. I know it is…
…
Please… I just… I just…
…
Eleven years ago, this same feeling came over me.
Cowardice blinded me to what it meant then.
…
But not now.
…
My hand, shaky yet certain, settles along his wrist.
...
The warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips signal an end.
...
And this moment...becomes the irrevocable demise of life as I knew it.
~A little earlier~
6:46pm
Eleven years ago, I deactivated my Infinity before the end of a mission.
The punishment for the action was immediate. A katana found its way through my flesh and the chaos following the initial attack led to an admittedly harrowing battle against an assassin that...beat me...temporarily.
He did other things that day. Worse things than attempting to cut down what was and still is invincible, but I digress.
At any rate, getting impaled through the throat became a series of powerful lessons. In that fight or flight state, every cell in my body became a live wire of positive energy. Felt like I was working miracles there, stitching myself back together piece by piece while warm, sticky blood pooled beneath me, filling the air with the stench of death as thousands of tiny wings from bugs fluttered on and on and on and on and on and…
…
Perfecting my reverse technique while hovering between life and death is an impossible pleasure to replicate. After all, I'm the strongest. Untouchable. Unbeatable.
I alone stand at the top.
…
Every now and again though, I wonder what it would have felt like to die right there in the middle of pure, euphoric bliss.
…
Would I have been satisfied with that as my ending?
…
There are things I could have avoided dealing with if I had, like finding Amanai's corpse curled up carelessly in a white sheet or missing the signs of Suguru's silent descent until after he slaughtered an entire village and his own family.
Reaching new heights of strength meant nothing in the face of his twisted ideology. There were orders to execute him on sight, but I wanted to hear him out. I wanted to understand the reasons for the drastic switch in his morality but simply couldn't. He was a man I couldn't recognize anymore, and that made me an emotional wreck. Couldn't see straight, even with Six Eyes.
A single, minuscule shot of Reversal Red was all it took to erase him from existence.
Yet it's the memory of when I didn't kill him that torments me the most.
Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?
Those words trigger sensations from my own brush with death.
…
Should that have been the end for me?
…
Of course not!
Dying would have been a waste of all my wondrous talents. Besides, it's not as if I don't get any thrills from my work as a Sorcerer. There is a sublime satisfaction in curb stomping weaklings, plus I'm working on building up the next generation. With me as their teacher, they'll be capable of uprooting the corrupt system we abide by someday.
Until then, while under my tutelage, I'll make sure they build bonds and experience the full bounties of youth.
None of them will stand alone.
…
Yeah, that's a worthy cause to die for…not that anything will kill me. Most Curses don't even pose a challenge anymore, and that's fine.
I'm a reasonable man. I don't want nor expect anything to invoke that crazed state of bliss ever again.
…
But this "Special Grade" could give me something to work with here.
"Are all your techniques just a way to prolong this lame game of hide and seek?"
The wraith-like Curse hisses in response while wisps of black energy slice through pavement and small patches of the landscaping surrounding the outer perimeter of the hotel. A weak manipulation of Reversal Blue keeps the sharper pieces of debris away from the tiger Shikigami scurrying along beside me.
In his mind we're in a competition for the same kill.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR!"
The demon cat tries to swipe my feet from under me with his twin tails, but it takes no effort at all to outmaneuver the movement.
"Missed again!" Picking up speed, I leap into the air in pursuit of the wraith. The eyes along its wings widen as its misty torso twists unnaturally to face me.
If you want to kill me, then kill me.
Narrowing my gaze, I watch the energy orb it forms in its hands morph into a broad sword with a gleaming gold hilt and a crackling black blade.
There would be a point to that.
The Shikigami screeches from somewhere below as I flip over the downward swipe of the weapon. While upside down, I stretch out my hands to grip the Curse around its slender neck and squeeze.
Finally dead, eh?
…
Look at him. Still wearing that same smug grin as if nothing changed at all
…
The Curse's mangled cry chases away the memory of Shoko's tearful quips and sharpens my focus on the present task. Momentum and gravity propel me over the Curse, allowing me to hurl it at a lamppost. The collision snaps the thing in half, forcing me to stretch Infinity up by several degrees so it won't be in my way, but doing so sends it careening toward the annoying jungle cat struggling to catch up to the battle.
I'm tempted to let the lamppost crush him, but instead I extend my right hand behind me while dashing forward to pin the Curse's body down with my left. Another weak Reversal Blue technique erupts from my palm to divert the object's path from the demon tiger…only for Six Eyes to reveal that the woman I expressly told to wait is rounding the corner where the lamppost will land in roughly ten seconds.
And I will delicately stab you if you don't let go of me right now, Broomstick Man!
Her obvious lack of knowledge about my identity and Jujutsu immediately struck me as odd. Earlier she had had talked with the Curse currently writhing beneath me without a single trace of fear. That in combination with the pet Shikigami screamed Curse User initially. However, her actual Cursed Energy output was so faint that I couldn't properly detect it until after I caught her in my arms.
By then, that tiny pulse of power had mixed with residuals from the Special Grade.
Speaking of which, I should probably end this before she becomes a puddle.
"One…"
"GWEEEH!"
The Curse dissolves suddenly, escaping my grasp as a vapor that whirls into a violent cyclone above me. Glass, dust, and foliage revolve around the reforming wraith as its shrieks out its rage.
"Two…"
The woman's pet darts past me then, aiming to penetrate the monster's defenses.
"Three…"
Every eye on the Curse's wings flashes gold as it creates a chaotic spiral of wind, glass, and shrapnel from the damaged road. It strikes out against the Shikigami tiger first, scratching up his paw and stomach before returning its attention to me.
Each cut delivered was deliberately shallow.
"Four… Five… Six…"
My opportunity to attack again reveals itself when the cursed energy dissipates around it. Within the span of two seconds, I grab the Shikigami's thick body, teleport him to the inactive traffic light in the square nearby, and use Six Eyes to check on the woman running blindly through the fog. She bends into a split just as the lamppost sails past, and that's all the confirmation I need of her safety to teleport back to the Special Grade.
"Nine… Ten…"
"Times up."
The Curse's head snaps in my direction, and even though it doesn't have a face, its body language screams its shock and terror to me.
Are you the strongest because…
Adrenaline spikes through my blood, disrupting every thought as instinct takes over. My fist sails into the Curse's chin. Its sharp wail and the satisfying crack of bone within the monster's jaw pierces the silence like the blade my victim helplessly clings to.
...
"Ah! Now that's the dopamine hit I was hoping for."
The sensation coursing through my veins when I toss the not so special Curse into the air is a rush of relief.
Nothing pushes me to my limits or replicates the catatonic high of oblivion.
But this makes me remember I'm alive.
I love it.
I love feeling the rapid beat of my heart.
I love how I can't hear anything except for the sound of my own breathing.
More than anything though, I love how the Six Eyes I inherited limit their view to a singular target, erasing everything else.
A deep rumble of laughter bubbles in my throat while gripping the Curse by its long, white hair. We sail back down to the asphalt fast and hard, cracking it on impact with a loud pop and a squirt of blood as black as the sky within this Veil.
The Curse whimpers.
"You crying?"
I dig my nails into the Curse's skull then proceed to drag it along the ground, painting a thick, black line along the road.
And, it's while performing this action that I hear the clack of high-heel boots from a short distance behind.
"So, she followed us all the way here, yeah? Doesn't look like she's hurt either. Impressive."
The woman's presence doesn't stop me. Raising my leg, I kick the Curse square in the chest and watch it bounce along the pavement like a stone skipping across ocean waves.
Its sword clatters in the space between us.
"Is that the best you can do?" I ask lowly after the final slap of its body against the concrete. "I honestly expected a little more out of this exchange of ours."
An angry grumble of pain is the Curse's only response. Before it had been able to switch parts of its bodily composition between states of matter, minimizing the damage of any blows it sustained while simultaneously granting it the ability to weave through the air at high speed. Those skills are ideal for running, but in an actual battle they don't do much good. All it took was for me to land blows whenever the creature shifted into a solid state.
Now with crimson rivulets rolling over its wings and torso, it's just a husk waiting to die.
Just. Like. Him.
I just couldn't wear a heartfelt smile while living in this world.
With a sneer, I lift my hand to charge up a final Red Reversal. Six Eyes signals the woman's approach, and though I don't turn to look, I can see her hair flying wildly about her head as she moves.
Eleven years ago, I deactivated my Infinity before the end of a mission.
Now…I never turn it off.
Infinity and my Reverse Technique run continuously, even in my sleep. It's not something I even have to spend time thinking about anymore.
Generally, I only engage with Infinity in terms of extending or shrinking its range. When on the lowest possible setting, it's as close as anything can get to touching me. Whether it's shaking hands, physically guiding students into proper combative stances, or handing a credit card to a cashier, Infinity isn't noticeable to them at all. They feel as if I'm interacting with them physically, but that's not the case.
Nothing can touch me so long as Infinity is active.
Deactivating it back then...cost too much.
The weapons capable of nullifying it have all been destroyed. I made sure of that.
So, given that I'm about to fire a very dangerous technique at a Curse, the range of my Infinity is marginally higher than it would normally be.
Nothing should get through.
…
Yet Infinity curls inward, effortlessly absorbing her entry and the distortion to the natural flow of my Cursed Energy.
And before that shock can even register, she takes hold of my wrist.
Her skin on mine catches me completely off guard.
...
I hate it.
…
I hate her.
…
No…
…
I just...
...
It's nothing to worry about. Her hold on me is weak, and whatever she did to get through Infinity has not disabled my ability to perform Jujutsu. A single surge of my Cursed Energy would be more than enough to eviscerate every organ inside her body if I willed it.
A part of me wants to.
Such intense wrath over an unexpected touch feels utterly ridiculous, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm pissed.
...
No one would ever know. There aren't any witnesses aside from the Special Grade and the Shikigami. Both can be dealt with easily.
…
Just an unfortunate casualty in an endless war.
…
But…
…
Similar to what happened ten years ago, I make one crucial mistake.
…
No…
…
I can't call this a mistake.
...
Looking at her face was a decision.
...
She stares up at me with stormy grey eyes lit by a comforting lavender glow. Tears run down her pale face, her grip on my wrist tightening reflexively.
…
My heart skips at the exhale drifting through her parted, rosy lips.
…
I want to steal that breath away and make it mine.
...
"That's enough," she murmurs brokenly, a note of desperation in her voice. "Please. Stop."
Bright blood slithers from a cut on her cheek.
It takes more effort than it should to keep still, which irritates me all the more.
"Why should I?"
There's another whimper from the Curse, but this time I hear a voice, its voice, inside my head.
Forgive me… I didn't want this… I never wanted this…
"That's why," the woman whispers, her teary gaze settling on the despairing spirit.
An otherworldly aura, detectable only with Six Eyes, cloaks this woman's entire being in an ethereal light.
"Who are you?"
The woman doesn't answer, her attention entirely on the Curse when she steps away.
"Is that what you truly desire?" she asks it, finally releasing my wrist from her grasp. "Forgiveness?"
The wraith, drenched in its own blood, trembles while lifting itself to its knees. A gravelly moan is all I hear when it points a wispy finger at me, but obviously she hears something else.
"What right do you have to concern yourself over my well-being now after everything you've done?"
Clenching her fists, she takes a handful of steps forward, drawing closer to the Curse.
Not a good idea.
Reaching out, I forcefully tug on her wrist to prevent her movement.
A simple motion of protection...
...
It wasn't just an excuse to feel her skin again.
...
"Don't. It's dangerous."
"I'm aware."
"I don't think you are," I tell her, glancing at the mangled Curse again. "Whatever it's saying to you is a lie, understand? Cursed Spirits will say anything to escape death. It's using your sympathy so it can..."
She sighs, her shoulders sagging a little.
"I would have died at your hands if not for this thing swatting me before."
A heavy silence falls between us...because there's nothing I can say to refute her words.
"I could have killed you a minute ago too."
She lets out a dry laugh, barely shifting to peer at me with those shimmering eyes.
"I know, but I trusted that you wouldn't."
Her words make me pause...
…
"Was that wise?" I ask, firmly pressing my fingers against her pulse. "We're complete strangers."
Blinking slowly, she turns to face me completely.
"Doesn't feel like it. You've been an irritant in my life for a while now, Broomstick Man."
Those words lift the corners of my mouth into a smirk.
"Reckless, aren't we?"
Another gruff snarl steals her attention before she can respond to me, but I don't mind it.
"This mission...ended up being more than I ever expected."
"You placed a curse on me when you took my sister," the woman calls out, resuming her trek toward the spirit. "It's a curse of despair and self-hatred that's followed me every day since. You say a day hasn't gone by that you haven't thought about her, and you say you didn't kill her…but how do either of those things make up for twenty-six years of not knowing, of looking over my shoulder in terror for the next monster?"
Listening carefully to her words, I stuff my hands into my pockets, having made the decision to return the favor of trust.
"There is nothing you could possibly say or do that will ever make up for pain like that," she murmurs, walking around the Curse's abandoned sword. "But…"
Another shaky breath leaves her as she kneels in front of it.
"If you can tell me the truth about what happened that day and why…I'll fulfill your request."
The Curse lifts its head slightly and from my perspective that's the only response it gives.
But she experiences something else.
"Why? Because..."
She trails off for a moment, her smile disappearing.
"Because I won't be free of the past until I forgive you. So please...give me a reason to try."
The Cursed Spirit stretches out its wings immediately following her plea, creating wild, icy gusts of energy.
She stays still even as the monster's airy hand wraps around her left arm. An instant later, every eye dotting the span of its wings flash white.
"A Domain Expansion?"
Amidst another flurry of icy winds, the woman scoots a few centimeters left along the pavement then flings her right arm toward me.
"Hey. Just realized that this whole thing is a little overwhelming," she shouts over the noise, her expression screaming trepidation now. "Care to join me in discovering what fate befell my sister!?"
I doubt this woman knows anything about Jujutsu Sorcery, but she has the right spirit for it.
That is to say...she's completely insane.
"Oh?" I taunt. "Don't tell me you're scared after a little light show?"
"Just come here, Broomstick Man!"
There's no hesitation in my casual stroll towards her.
I think she may have cast her own curse on me.
"This is where recklessness leads you," I murmur, slipping my fingers between hers once our hands connect. "Fortunately for you, I don't mind offering my protection…so long as I'm compensated properly later."
"Oh no," she growls when the atmosphere begins to bend around us. "If we survive this, you're paying me in donuts you sugar stealing fiend!"
Despite the playful threat, her fingers tremble in my grip.
…
I know nothing about this woman beyond the few snippets she just uttered to the Curse.
…
In a moment I'll learn more.
…
But should I want to know more?
...
The air settles within the Special Grade's Domain Expansion. Six Eyes examines the area, taking in rolling hills of snow and the surrounding palaces constructed from crystal in search of a threat, mainly because the Curse's body disappeared during the transition. Only its energy remains.
My Domain Expansion…is a technique that creates gateways between time and space. When perfected, I can travel between dimensions into worlds mere humans could never dream of seeing. This ability…is one carried over from another life led in a separate realm.
"How did you end up here in this world then?" my companion asks the spirit, her eyes scanning the crystal structures.
The man beside you…
Her eyes widen in confusion, but I know exactly what the Curse is alluding to.
His birth upset a balance in power. Thus, I and others awakened from the throes of death.
She tightens her grip on my hand, signaling for me to help her stand up.
I do so wordlessly.
"And after that…?" she questions once on her feet. "What happened?"
Eventually, I regained a sense of self and settled along the Cliffs of Moher. That is where I lived and grew until the day I encountered you and your sister.
The scenery swiftly transitions to a scene of a beach beneath massive cliffs.
She lets go of my hand in her venture toward the sea.
What I must show you next…will not be easy to see. Are you…certain you wish to know the truth?
My hands return to my pockets.
I'm about to witness what might have been the greatest tragedy of this woman's life…and I don't even know…
...
"Hey. Broomstick Man?"
Sighing lowly, I follow her footprints along the sand as thunder rumbles in the clouds overhead.
"What is it now?"
Seagulls squawk, disrupting the silence while calling an echo of fleeting summers I would give anything to reclaim.
…
Suguru and I...we were the strongest.
...
Yet somehow we failed to save someone precious.
…
Neither of us ever really recovered from it either.
…
I don't think I can lose anyone else important…
…
Alone…no one else is important.
…
But her touch on my skin signaled an end...
...
"Tell me your name."
...
Once standing next to her, I carefully wrap an arm around her shoulders.
"Gojo Satoru."
She nods once, and even though Infinity remains active, I feel the warmth of her body when she leans into my touch.
...
Her name is a soft whisper lost on the breeze.
...
And this moment...becomes the irrevocable demise of life as I knew it.
A/N: And...my brain is still burning. Not sure if that's a good thing anymore. At any rate, I'm going to do some mild explaining because this chapter presented some unique challenges of it's own simply because of Satoru Gojo. I did a chunk of research before starting this one...but I'm not gonna lie, not sure how much of it I actually retained in my head for the bulk of Gojo's section. Emotionally speaking he's not terribly difficult to write, but in terms of remembering everything he can do and conveying that within a fight without leaning too far into exposition or...just a lot of rambling, was difficult. Plus, I'm really leaning into the idea of Gojo struggling to push down grief here within this work since in the canon of this story specifically, everything pertaining to Getou's death just happened a few weeks prior. So, he's not living his best life right now.
Speaking of characters not living their best life, our main character, who has yet to be named within the story (don't worry she does have a name) is her own basket of worms because she has...one of the more extensive backstories among the original characters I've cooked up over the years. There are even hints in this chapter within her section about a different aspect of her past and the reasons why catching a glimpse of Gojo's true self is as poignant as it is for her. That moment results in the two of them instantly connecting emotionally in a way that, really only they're gonna get right now. Like, I wrote it and I don't even get it fully. However, establishing this sort of connection between them early is going to be important in shaping what comes later, so if it feels out of left field...don't worry about it. It's supposed to because this is not a slow burn...at least not in the typical sense. I'm trusting the process on this one. When it comes to the actual mechanics of Gojo's abilities...if it's severely off I'll find a way to fix it later. The beauty of Fanfiction is that we can always go back and fix it. There's tidbits in the previous chapter I actually need to fix actually...hmm...
Anyway, that's all for now. Many thanks for reading. If you have any thoughts and feelings you want to share, feel free to leave a comment. Just be mindful of my burning brain because the sleep deprivation is hitting something fierce after having worked on this chapter for...literally fifteen hours straight now. That inspiration was too strong today. Best wishes and God bless you all!