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𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘, 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘. He couldn't keep this up long-term, he felt like he was weeping blood out of his eyes and ears, the telltale trickle of exertion from his nose familiar enough for him to ignore it -- but the other ailments felt far more serious, enough to give him pause in how to proceed.

Seems their conversation was at the whim of time, and time was passing at its own whims here, too, unpredictably a blink... or a undescribed amount that had him wondering when the last time he had a coherent thought was.

What were they talking about, again? This place was fucking with him. He needed to think less. Satoru emptied his mind whilst the realm churned away at him, mauling away every last modicum of focus he could hope to contain. He cupped his spilled innards against himself, hugging into a fetal position, and recited the last song he could remember hearing on the radio. Or, no, there weren't lyrics, and the beat was fuzzy at best...

What were they talking about, again?

Suguru's head. A cleaved skullcap rising, revealing a parasitic brain inhabiting the corpse of his dead beloved, an eerie grin as fluids dripped down his bisected forehead and temples. 'Head' his query was simple and that was alright, he couldn't think with complexity with the way his limbs were mangling into a crumpled mess and his mind was static.

It felt out of order, the way he could still crack a smile at Suguru's disjointed voice telling him he's brilliant... -- wasn't that before, before... ---- Suguru was talking now, talking about something and Satoru couldn't latch on, he felt too dizzy ---- so he pulsed out a single word;

D-i-s-o-r-i-e-n-t-e-d.

Shoko? She was okay? She was on standby in Shibuya, right outside of the outermost veil caging in nonsorcerers. She was okay, but others were hurt? How many, where, when ----

Six hours ... ?

Something shattered in his chest and it wasn't bone or flesh, it wasn't the sinews ripped from him, peeled open like a clementine. He sobbed out something despite himself, but it switched to a laugh because why not, why not have a chuckle over this utter sucker punch of a hit; six hours since he was sealed? He reeled. He seethed, a series of pulses not aimed at Suguru, but he was also in disbelief, so ----

L-i-a-r.

He paused and tugged at his own hair, smacking his temple, gripping into the tainted-red strands. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or creased shut, the darkness and matted bloodiness overlapped. Liar. Liar.

N-o-t. H-o-u-r-s.

He was too captured by that, the utter ridiculousness of having what felt like a disjointed collection of years crammed into at least six months, not hours, within this pocket dimension. Was this Kenjaku speaking, teasing him with something so utterly disorienting that Satoru felt like weeping from it? Maybe. Maybe Suguru didn't even realize, or maybe this wasn't Suguru at all. Maybe his heart was playing tricks on him.

No, he can't, he needed to stop thinking. Every breath hurt.

There was a strange sensation creeping up his throat, a choked down word he hadn't ever been permitted to say. By nannies growing up, or by his own self-inflicted rules ---- a pitiful thing, this forbidden word, this silly, stupid limitation placed onto himself not depriving him of the ability to breathe. Suguru asked if he was okay a week in between responses, delirium so saturated into Satoru's mind that he wasn't sure who Suguru was even asking anymore. But the concept of yes, no, maybe, and even a quip of 'been better' all passed through his mind like a train skipping every stop, express route to nowhere, tongue-tied and skidding off the rails. Where was he, what were they talking about, again?

That stupid forbidden word, a snarled bridge of his nose, temples throbbing, eyelashes wet ---- maybe it was good that Suguru couldn't see him like this, it meant the delivery was far dryer;

H-e-l-p.

Something prodded into his skull akin to talons, gouging into his eyes until it all gave with a wet defeat and he forgot how to exist.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃. His hands were tear-stained and slightly damp —- only having just left the confines of his face to feel the pulsing sensation of Satoru’s quick responses —- but they were careful around the eyes that adorned the cube. It appeared to Suguru that they were still actively searching for something.

He couldn’t help but wonder: did those eyes truly represent Satoru’s? Was he looking around at Suguru’s surroundings, trying to figure out where he was? Oh, Satoru … where else would he have been, if not in the place that reminded him most of you?

Suguru found himself looking around the abandoned home, as well —- wanting to be closer to the other, to see through his eyes; to know what Satoru was thinking. Suguru had only seen the ugliness of this world —- had only felt shame and disgust towards himself, at the very end of it all. But Satoru … his Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age … Satoru had always seen so much more than Suguru ever could, or ever thought himself capable of.

This akiya, too, had seen it all —- the countless arguments, the angry tears and physical altercations when the frustration over Suguru’s defection and lack of communication got to be too much … the agony surrounding the cult leader’s lack of care around his mental and emotional well-being, and his new, chosen family’s encouragement of that pain, as if they didn’t see it for what it had been —- a cry for help, unheard and left to fester and die alongside whatever remained of Suguru’s morality, his ability to trust…

It hadn’t all been bad, though —- there had still been love here; a softness that remained despite everything they had been through, both separately and together. A familiarity that spanned countless lifetimes. He had picked up Satoru’s pieces here, in this very bed, and put him back together when the world had become too much … too loud, too violent, too demanding of him. Gentle hands had cradled his face, Suguru’s touch quiet, reverent, as he traced along the edges of Satoru’s features, offering as much comfort and tenderness as he could whilst the other’s chronic migraines felt him vulnerable and aching.

A fond memory, that was. When they had let each other in … when they allowed themselves a moment of vulnerability, of trust in the other to keep them warm, and safe.

Hope had begun to nestle itself within the sinewy muscles of Suguru’s chest. Tendrils of longing and anticipation and despair and want, so much want it made Suguru feel crazy, wrapped tightly around his ribcage —- around his very heart, and squeezed. While Satoru wasn’t there in a physical sense to wipe away Suguru’s tears and offer comfort while his defenses were down, Suguru could still feel him, all the same. And there was comfort in knowing that the six eyes were still present —- ever-watchful of his movements, as always.

Suguru had always felt stripped bare underneath Satoru’s gaze. It was as though Satoru saw the very fibers of his being —- his wants and desires, his fears … the night terrors that kept him away from Jujutsu Tech; from a world that terrified him —- that drove him utterly mad, in the end. Satoru had always seen the very heart and soul of Geto Suguru, hadn’t he? All that made him who he was, who he had been … and yet Suguru had knocked on death’s door with the preconceived notion that Satoru hated him for who he had become. That there was only room in his best friend’s heart for disgust over what Suguru had done to that village —- to his own parents. Much less everything else that had transpired over those ten long years.

What an idiot he had been.

From the two quick pulses of the prison realm in his hands, Suguru could surmise that Satoru also didn’t have a clue about what this cursed object truly was. It was disappointing, knowing that somehow, such a special-grade weapon had made it past the both of them. Suguru didn’t have access to the library at Jujutsu Tech anymore, much less Kenjaku’s vast knowledge and understanding of the world at large. He couldn’t feel him, at least … though the fear that he could come back whenever he so desired was enough to make Suguru reluctant to get any sort of rest.

He found himself wondering what he could possibly ask next that could be answered in a mere yes or no. Suguru’s grip on the object tightened as he began to overthink it all, caught up on each and every possibility. It was as if Satoru had picked up on his hesitance, though —- even from some other dimension or plane of existence, Satoru saw him; knew him all too well —- for the object began to sputter and shake, vibrations succinct, punctuated by brief pauses, as if he was somehow speaking through the cursed object.

Suguru’s brows knitted together in confusion and surprise as he attempted to make sense of it. It almost felt like…

…some sort of code, maybe?

❝ Satoru, what— ❞

Suguru’s train of thought was cut off as he realized that the series of initial vibrations were becoming repetitive. Was Satoru attempting to speak to him in…

❝ ---Morse code? Fuck, you’re brilliant, ❞ he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh as the realization hit. Suguru wasn’t well versed in morse code, but he was familiar enough to make the connection. He quickly began searching for some way to decipher the messages on the phone Larue had provided him with.

❝ Try again, ‘toru, ❞ Suguru encouraged, ready to record the other’s message so he could determine what the other was saying.

When he finally figured it out, Suguru’s gaze softened … as if Satoru was looking at him, somehow. He was always looking at him, wasn’t he? Cutting through his defenses … it felt like his heart was in his throat as he attempted to swallow around it, emotions getting the better of him.

❝ …You’re trapped in some other dimension because of me, and you’re worried about my safety? ❞ His voice was as tender as it was quiet, a hushed sound that pulled at the empty spaces between them. ❝ I’m okay … I’m safe. I’m more worried about what you might be going through in there … or wherever you are. ❞

When that last word came through, Suguru closed his eyes.

❝ I … I don’t know. It’s frustrating how much I don’t know. I think he’s gone, but I don’t trust that it’s over. That he won’t come back at some inopportune time. He knows everything about me, though —- he somehow had access to my cursed technique, my memories … but I can’t recall anything that’s happened since he took over. I wish I could, because maybe then I’d know how to free you. ❞

Silence hung heavy, punctuating the weight of the moment between them from worlds divided. Suguru took a moment to think —- to breathe through the onslaught of emotions coursing through him. Everything felt so blinding and foreign, as if he were looking through eyes that weren’t his; not anymore. A disconnect between tendons and bones, an inability to walk —- to move. Everything felt so wrong, so painfully wrong—-

Suguru swallowed roughly, before continuing.

❝ —-I reached out to Shoko, but the soonest she can meet is tomorrow night. Or … later tonight? It’s been about … six hours or so since you got locked in there, but the devastation is pretty horrific. I’d imagine she’s got a lot to handle right now. ❞

❝ Satoru… are you safe, where you are? Are you okay? ❞

#the universe was made to be seen by my eyes. // 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘.#strongest of the modern age. // 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟑.#my one and only. // 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.#tw gore mention

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