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kyoness · 1 month ago

Text

Raw Emotion

Chapter three of A Silent Cry

Wc- 1,401

Warnings- flashback, teen gojo, flirting, the slow burning is burning. (None of these are really warnings)

"Y/n!" Suguru called from afar. you see him waking towards you, an annoyed look on his face. You look behind him and see his two friends already staring at you. They quickly look away, gojo whistling while looking at the pretend watch on his wrist, and Shoko "reading" a book. You raise an eyebrow at Suguru who now stood in front of you.

"Wanna go to a cafe with me, Satoru and Shoko? Satoru has been practically on his hands and knees begging me to ask you" he sates as he shakes his head in an annoyance, pinching. His temple.

"sorry-" you begin to say, though, the desperate look in Sugurus eyes makes you feel bad.

"Y/n. He won't shut up" He pleads.

"yea, I'll go" you sigh. You didn't want to question why Gojo wanted you there so bad, you just brushed it off as him wanting to annoy Suguru.

Arriving at Dans Cafe, you instantly get hit with the smell of pastry's and the overwhelming sound of a crowded area making you dizzy. The sounds of children Laughing, people yelling, coughing, it was overstimulating. You looked around awkwardly for your friends, walking down to the end of the cafe. You instantly noticed a tall, white haired boy sitting at the booth. When you got a closer look Suguru and Shoko were there too. You sit next to Shoko across from the two boys. Suguru gave you a worried glance.

"Sorry y/n, I didn't know so many people would be here today." He troubled. You gave him a reassuring smile

"I'm okay" You respond, tho it is barely audible due to Gojos babbling about who knows what. You look to your right to Shoko who's pretending to listen and to Suguru who's now engaged on what he's saying, giving a light chuckle here and there. A part of you felt misplaced, why would they want you to be here with them? You only hung out with Suguru after class sometimes, because he was usually hanging out with Gojo and Shoko. And for these two, you've hardly ever had a conversation with them. Your thoughts as well as Gojos rambling are cut short tho due to Sugurus phone randomly blowing up with text, after text after text.

"woah, what girl did you upset?" Shoko jokes, making Gojo chuckle.

"yaga." his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the screen. He opens the text thread and faces the phone to Shoko. He turns to you and Gojo. "He wants me and Shoko to call him."

"Glad I'm not being called by that old man" Gojo scoffs, half joking. The other two sigh.

"He's probably calling about somthing YOU did.Don't do anything stupid while we're gone, looking at you satoru." Surgru sarcastically remarked.

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" Gojo pouts, making Suguru roll his eyes. Shoko and Suguru walk away as he holds the phone up to his ear. You stare off in the direction they walked to, pondering many things. You thought about your next mission, what it would Entail, and what cursed tool you would use. How the weather was slightly more chilly than yesterday which means fall is coming. You couldn't not think about how damn loud people were in this area. Gojo examined your expression briefly.

"Whatcha thinking about pretty?" Gojo smirks while leaning his head back on the chair. You came back to reality, raising your eyebrow at the nickname towards you that came from his lips. You didn't bother to interrogate him tho.

"my next mission-" you falter. Gojo had taken his sunglasses off revealing his ice blue eyes. You stare at them, maybe for a little too long because of how Gojo made a cocky joke of some sort. They were beautiful, that's not why you were staring at them tho. In this moment you feel a faint sadness in Gojos eyes, almost like it was oppressed. Despite it being distant, it was oh so powerful. You could feel the isolated emotion that radiated off of his eyes.

"Gojo-" you commence.

"Call me Satoru" he smiles at you as he leans his cheek onto his palm.

"Satoru are you... lonely?" You surprisingly say, catching Satoru and you off guard.

"huh." He gave a dumb smile, he was confused on your sudden statement.

"Heyy" Shoko shouted, waving at you. Suguru smiled with two plates in his hand. Satoru gasped at the food, looking down on it in awe.

"Did you get somthing for yours truly???" Satoru points to himself using his thumb.

"Yea, I knew you would say somthing like that." He shakes his dead with a smile, handing Satoru the plate.

"yay!" He cheers, leaning too far onto the table to grab the plate that had a vanilla piece of cake on it. He looses his balance and falls directly onto the plate that wasn't stable in Sugurus hand. The plate fell to the floor along with Satorus face. The cafe goes silent, your eyebrows raise and you try to stop your impending smile. For your first time being here, you burst out laughing. Your raw smile making everyone else follow suit. Your eyes flutter closed, stomach hurting from laughing so much.

What you didn't see though, was Satorus frosting filled face looking up at you. Studying your pretty smile and the way your lashes fell onto your gorgeous cheekbones. His eyes whipped around your face for any imperfection, like he would see in other girls. There was none. He then found himself inspecting your facial harmony so he wouldn't forget it.

That moment was right before Suguru broke. Of course you noticed when he was depressed but he didn't dare to talk to you about it. It was also before a blue eyed lanky man stood in front of you. You process his words, examining his face for any type of joking manner but the eyes never lied. For the first time, or for the first time you thought, Gojo looked at you with a raw expression. It kinda freaked you out.

"Yea." You sniffle. A slight,faint smile almost formed on your lips as you wipe away your tears."I should be asking that to you."

"mm" he doesn't respond with a answer, he knows you would know anyways. You two stood in silence for a couple of second's.

"If you ever need to talk, you know I'd be there for you." You mumble, a slight blush from embarrassment lies on your cheeks. You don't know why tho, you've always had no problem asking people if they were okay. With Gojo it was... werid?

"Why?" He queried as he scratched his head, His eyebrows furrowed.

"I-" you look at him at a loss for words. A question you asked yourself and never got the anwser to it. "I don't know." You finally put out. He just nods with a smile.

"How come we never talked after that day?" He smirks, tying to lighten the mood. It's unnerving how well he can achieve that.

"What day?" You tilt your head to the side with a confused smile. You knew what day, you knew because after that day you saw an unfamiliar glimmer in Gojos eyes. It was a mix of vulnerability and understanding, nevertheless you never knew what it was, You only knew it was a good feeling. After Suguru, that glimmer faded away, you never expected it to last anyways.

"Nevermindddd" he acclaimed, waking up to you and handing you the papers that he never wanted to do himself. Gojo liked having someone who let him have no responsibility, and that person was you. His lanky fingers briefly brushed against yours. "My students are waiting on me, cya y/n!" He shouted because he was already somehow at the end of the hallway. You waved goodbye in return.

suddenly you hear a beep on your phone, looking at the light you see a notification from a unsaved number. The text read "ya free tomorrow?" you smiled at your phone, a warm feeling washed over you for a millisecond. You knew who this was from.

End of chap 3!!

Authors note: I tried writing a different side of Gojo here, his character is actully really complex when I get to write vulnerable moments. I honestly thought it would be easy because on the surface, his personality is straight forward.

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk angst #jjk gojo #jjk #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk satoru #satoru x you #angst #new writter #fanfic

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kyoness · 2 months ago

Text

I feel sick

“a bird’s song”

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are satoru’s entire world, having redefined what it means to live. losing you is the last thing he ever wants to do

to sum it up: you’re satoru’s soulmate and a life without you is inconceivable

WC: 5,255

Warning(s): lots of angst, mentions of death/reader death, i cried writing this oops

Why are the birds still chirping?

Satoru remembers the first time he became aware of the melodious sound fluttering through the cloudless sky above, when he first lay eyes on you. Somehow, the world doused itself into vibrant color right then and there, stroking the trees, the ground, and your stunning face with the brush of a paint, revealing a reality to him that he hadn’t believed to exist before you.

He is ten years old, peering over at you from his seat on the park bench. He isn’t allowed to wander off on his own, protected heavily by the members of his clan everywhere he goes. He withholds a sense of entitlement, harbored at such a young, ripe age, and he scowls at all the children that skip along the pavement, screeching in ignorant delight, but then there’s you. With a laugh louder than all the rest and a smile brighter than the glaring beam of the sun overhead, your round (e/c) eyes connect with his from where you sit atop the slide. You sit down, gripping the ledges in preparation to fly downward, yet you stop yourself when you see him.

You blink curiously, then beam and wave, seeking to make a new friend with that blush that sprouts over your already flushed cheeks.

Satoru Gojo has only seen his world through a gray lens, despite the vibrance of his eyes. Burdened by a title, defined by his birthright, pressured by the realities of a world beyond even the ordinary adult imagination before he’s even reached double digits. Everything is cold, because he is the only one of himself in this world, and yet there you are.

The moment your hand reaches the air, color bursts from your palm and sprouts through your fingertips, seeping into the atmosphere and drenching a dull universe in childlike wonder. Satoru, numbed by any and all around him, apathetic to the inferiority of the surrounding society, finds his lips parting slightly and his periwinkle irises flickering with a glint of perplexed inquisition.

His ears ring, and suddenly… have the birds always sung so loud? Has the breeze always tickled his nose and tousled through his locks? Has the sun always illuminated the planet with a golden haze?

His arm is snatched by his maid moments following the interaction, and he is tugged away, back to the cold. Satoru never bothered to look anyone in the eye before, if not to enlighten them of their unshakable weakness in comparison to him, but that day, he finds himself watching over his shoulder as the vision of you shrinks and the patter of his boyish heart matches the hastiness of the steps pulling him off.

He can hear them still… they won’t stop singing.

Three years later, Satoru happens upon you again. Somehow, he is worse than before. More arrogant, older, intent on the idea of knowing everything that can not be debauched by the authority of an adult, because in truth, he does know more. He knows all. He sees all. He sees the fear in the eyes of those who protect him, the weakness of the masses, the strength of his mind that could grow to wipe them all out one day if he truly desires so.

He still thinks about you. Your face flickers through his mind every day, and he doesn’t understand why. Since he saw you, his world is louder, but you are nowhere in sight.

Until one day, he’s walking by a middle school, hands tucked in his pockets as he treks out to the ice cream shop he’s grown to favor over the years thanks to his sweet tooth. He keeps his gaze down, an expression of agitation gracing his features. He’s taller now, allowing him to look further down on those nearby.

He grows weary of his beauty when girls whisper as he walks by. He knows he is not ordinary, and at times, it makes him laugh dryly. These pathetic school girls could never possibly aim to even speak with someone like him. He’s better. He’s the best. He’s a fabrication of their childish dreams and fantasies that will never find the light of reality.

Satoru is lost in his head when he swings the door open to the shop, eyes ghosting over the array of flavors until they accidentally snap to the back of your head. He looks away at first, then does a double take when a strange, familiar tightness grips his chest. That hair, that (s/c) skin, that posture radiating warmth and strength bursting with a rainbow of hues are things Satoru has only seen once, and with his keen six eyes, he recognizes you instantly before you turn around with a vanilla cone in your hand.

You meet his eyes in an instant, and both of you stop. Satoru thinks he can hear a songbird whistle from down the road as his grip on the door releases and the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes. He thinks you recognize him, by the way your brows raise and those unmistakable (e/c) eyes of yours sparkle with something he has never seen before.

You look the same, only a bit older. You’ve grown taller, your eyes the slightest bit more mature, but it’s you. That girl who unveiled color to Satoru years prior. He has only seen you in his head, but now you stand before him, real, bright, and… pretty.

He doesn’t know what to say. Satoru has never taken interest in girls or boys romantically, especially those who ogle at him like he is a pet to tame and withhold, but your gaze on him is different. You’re different. The white haired boy feels his heart hammer into his chest, a foreign feeling that he has only felt once before in your presence. He’s overcome with nostalgia, and dare he say, anxiety. Who are you? What is this you make him feel?

Your lips part and you take a breath, doe eyes glassy as though having had life sparked into them. Satoru imagines he looks the same, his sapphire hues gleaming with the stun of seeing you again.

“Hey,” you call out gently, voice wrapped in a light amiability, a familiarity that Satoru is unaccustomed with. He’s never had friends his age. He’s never had someone look at him the way you do, seeking out to communicate with him at a basic human level. “Do I know you…?”

Suddenly, Satoru’s astonishment is bombarded by irritation. No one has ever tried to speak to him at a basic human level, he recalls, so why are you? Why do you believe you’re special enough to talk to him? He doesn’t know you, not any more than by first glance.

You have some audacity to approach him, to open your mouth to talk to him as if you could ever be at the same level as him. You’re just a girl despite the flutter in his heart you inspire and the brightness that you exude. A girl who can never be his friend.

His brows angle and his hands shove stubbornly into his pockets. Teenage arrogance is a monster, but, harbored by a thirteen year old Satoru Gojo, is perilous.

“No,” he tells you coldly, watching the hope drain from your face and the light in your eye dim. “Why would you?”

You visibly retract from the snippiness of his voice, having mistaken his appearance for that of a friendly boy. You know exactly who he is. You aren’t dumb. You’ve never seen anyone like him before, not since that day at the park. Those eyes, that hair, that presence. He’s one of a kind, but he isn’t ten anymore. He’s meaner. Less innocent, you can tell.

“Oh,” you say, dejected. Two other girls come behind you, chattering loudly, and usher you away. They sneak glances at Satoru as they giggle, and he hears them ask you who the cute boy you were looking at was.

His heart lurches when you tell them it was no one.

He regrets that day. He regrets stripping that excitement from you. He has spent his entire life reminding people of where they stand with a simple look, but the second he did it to you, it didn’t feel right. He thinks maybe he should have been kinder. He thinks maybe he wanted to speak with you, but didn’t know how. He thinks maybe you’re the one person he could have tried to get to know, to help him ease away from his loneliness.

Maybe. Maybe he could have known you, but that was only a silly dream.

It's five in the morning… they won’t stop singing so close to his window.

Two more years later, Satoru finds you again in the last place he would have expected to see you.

It’s his first day at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and he’s wandering the campus after having moved into his dorm when he sees you by the vending machines speaking with a black haired boy in baggy pants.

His heart drops. His ears ring. His chest tightens, and god damn, why are those birds perched on the telephone wire so loud?

Satoru is fifteen, and he is no less cocky, but he finds himself a bit more spirited, more lighthearted, seeking humor in the drab doom of the world he inhabits. He pokes fun rather than instantly berating. He sparks banter rather than immediately pushing others away. He laughs, not scowls, at the sheer difference in strength between himself and others, and he never thought he would see the day where he would find you again… and here, of all places, in his world.

What is the universe telling him? Why are you ingrained into his life’s path when everyone else comes and goes?

His first instinct is to approach you, but what should he say? He pretended not to know you the last time your paths crossed… maybe you forgot? Maybe he could start over?

Somehow, however, he knows that is not possible. He knows you anywhere, your aura, your vibrance. He knows you despite the very brief and distanced interactions he has had with you in the past. He would recognize you anywhere, he fears, and something tells him as he walks over that you will too.

“You guys my classmates?” he asks cheekily, a smug smile gracing his face once he is before the two of you, interrupting your conversation.

The dark haired boy looks at him first with an expression of confused contempt, and then you turn, and Satoru almost loses his breath.

You’re gorgeous, he thinks. Your lips are glossed, your eyes are coated in gentle strokes of mascara, and your facial structure has matured. The school uniform graces your body regally, your navy skirt revealing the smoothness of your legs and your knee highs reaching to cut it off. He’s never seen a girl so pretty in his life, save from the two instances in which he has seen you.

Your face contorts immediately into shock when you see him, and he grins. “Do I know you?” he mimics your words from the past, and your shoulders tense before your eyes slim.

“You,” you gasp, a hint of suspicion laced in your voice which, in turn, has matured as well.

Satoru smirks, heart brimming with anticipation. “Me?” he nods, hand over his hip.

“You two know each other?” the hazel eyed stranger with odd bangs questions, looking between the two of you oddly. Only then do you realize that you have been staring at each other.

You snap your face back over to him and curl your lips. “Not really…” you say.

“What? You’re such a liar!” Satoru accuses, leading you to glare at him, flabbergasted by his forwardness. “We’ve met before.”

“Hardly. And the last time I saw you, you were pretending like you didn’t know who I was.”

“That was forever ago! Are you really gonna hold onto a grudge from when I was thirteen?” he cocks a playful brow, those sapphire eyes of his blazing with brazen jest.

“Yes,” you nod. “You seemed like an asshole.”

“I’m sure that hasn’t changed,” the boy murmurs, and Satoru pouts, unimpressed.

“And who are you?”

“Geto Suguru. Grade one,” he answers almost judgmentally, and Satoru scoffs a laugh.

“Grade one, huh?”

“...Yes? Why, what grade are you?”

Satoru’s grin brightens. “Special grade.”

Both you and Suguru reel at the news, and Satoru revels in the shock. “How the hell are you special grade already?” you ask.

Gojo shrugs, poking his tongue out. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he tells you vaguely, though it’s clear on his face that he is itching to shout it from the rooftops.

Satoru doesn’t muster up the courage to ask you what your name or grade is, and you read his failure to do so as a sign that he does not care. His sight allows him to detect that you are a grade three, but beyond that, your name remains a mystery until Geto addresses you by it when he’s talking.

(L/n) (Y/n).

The name is burned into his brain from that point on.

You grow weary of Satoru Gojo the longer you know him. He starts to cling to you and Suguru, as well as the last first year named Ieiri, like you all have known each other all your lives, but he isn’t kind to you. He’s rather mean in the sense that he is constantly trying to gauge a reaction out of you. He’s picking on you, calling you weak, poking fun, invading your privacy, intruding on your personal space, and you think he hates you but it’s just the opposite.

He feels like he has known you since the day he was born. There is something so familiar about you, so comforting about you that he can not begin to understand. He wants to think it’s because of the first time he laid eyes on you, but it feels like it goes deeper than that. Like your fates are intertwined, like you are doomed to encounter one another in this reality and the next and so on.

He watches you grow. He watches you curl away from his presence. He watches you strengthen yourself and your bonds with the rest of them. He watches you blossom, and when he first sees you in action on the training field, his heart beams with pride.

You’re weak, but you improve. You climb the ranks in a frantic attempt to catch up to Satoru and Suguru, and though you still fall behind, you don’t falter. You don’t give up, and Satoru is so proud of you despite the short amount of time you have known each other.

Satoru finds himself changing along with his environment. He comes out of his shell, branching out into a social horror as he grows more and more comfortable in your presence. His arrogance remains, but his words are less harsh, his eyes carry less heaviness, and his posture is broader. He feels lighter somehow, surrounded by you, surrounded by love, and he is grounded.

Your suspicion of him shifts into the same familiarity that he feels for you, and you grow accustomed to his behavior just as much as Suguru and Shoko have, if not more. You cling to Satoru in return when he glues himself to you, teasing him and poking fun, engaging in ridiculous banter that brings Suguru’s hands over his ears as he begs some higher power for more peaceful company.

Your heart bursts under Satoru’s gaze, your smile brightening his existence, and the two of you become inseparable. To be parted from your best friend is to be tortured, and the thought of losing you brings Satoru to the brink of insanity.

There is no longer a you without him, nor a him without you, and everyone knows. Everyone sees the unbreakable strength of your bond.

“Satoru,” you mumble one afternoon. He hums, looking down at your face as he cradles your head in his lap. The two of you are sixteen, now, lounging in Suguru’s dorm as the dark haired man works on an assignment. You and Satoru lay on his carpet, scrolling through your phones and doing everything but the assignment you are supposed to be completing.

He blinks down at you, bright eyes isolate you in his gaze. You smile lightly, seeing the ten year old at the park that threw his head over his shoulder to capture the sight of you as he walked away. “What’s up?”

“...Do you think we’re soulmates?”

The blue eyed boy’s heart jumps as he looks down at you with a soft smile. “What a question to ask,” he marvels. “You finally falling in love with me, sunshine?”

Sunshine.

He had begun calling you that a few months into knowing each other during your first year. You had asked him why, and he responded that everything you touched sprouted into color just like the nip of the sun’s rays. You told him that he was stupid and nudged his head away with a laugh.

“You wish,” you roll your eyes, and Satoru chuckles. Your foot dangles over your crossed legs and your lips pucker in thought. Satoru watches every movement your body takes, studying you like the piece of art he believes you to be. “I’m only asking because… I don’t know, like, we met those two times when we were kids, and now we’re here. And even before that, it felt like I was waiting for something to come around… and then there you were.”

You look into his eyes as he leans over and traces your brow with his finger. “So what I’m hearing is that you were waiting your entire life to be graced by my presence.”

“Shut uppp, you know what I mean, don’t you?”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Yeah, I actually do.”

“Like, what do you think would happen if we grew apart someday?”

“Well, that would never happen,” Satoru says. “Even if you got tired of me and tried to get away, I’d find you.”

“Creepy. That must have been what you did before high school, you stalker.”

“For the last time, I didn’t stalk you,” he rolls his eyes, poking into your cheek. “If anyone stalked anyone, it was you stalking me.”

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way I could have, especially since you’re the one with the six eyes. You’re the one with the stalking ability.”

You reach up your index finger to press into his forehead.

“Stop trying to slander my name like this,” Satoru sighs dramatically. “I’m a perfect gentleman. If I were to stalk you, I'd at least give you a heads up.”

“Wow. How generous of you, you fucking weirdo.”

“A weirdo who’s your soulmate,” he sings. “So that would technically makes you a weirdo too.”

“Nah, you’re still weirder. Right Suguru?”

“Yes,” he calls out, though not at all sure of what the two of you could have possibly been discussing.

Satoru groans. “Don’t take her side, Suguru, what the hell?!”

“I take the side of whoever gets on my nerves less. Today, it’s (Y/n).”

You scrunch your face. “The hell do you mean today? I’m always delightful.”

“That’s not true, and you’d be more delightful if you let me do my work.”

You turn up to Satoru and make a grumpy face, moving your lips around to mimic an exaggerated impersonation of Suguru scolding you. Satoru snorts as he tries his best to hold in his laughter.

“Whatever you’re doing, quit it,” Suguru says.

“Ugh. He’s so bossy,” Satoru shakes his head.

“Quiet before he comes over here and beats our asses.”

“He’d never, he loves us too much.”

Just then, a pencil is tossed at Satoru’s head that is deflected by his quickness to equip infinity. He snickers and releases it once the pencil drops to the floor.

The white haired teenager sighs heavily, gathering your cheeks in his hand as he squishes obnoxiously. You glare at him, dropping your hand to the floor. “Guess it’s just you and me, then,” he murmurs.

“F’rthe rest ‘f’our lives, hm?” you ask, voice muffled by Satoru’s hand. He chuckles, releasing you and leaning back on his hands. He gazes at you tenderly.

“For the rest of our lives. Suguru can visit on weekends.”

Satoru knows he’s fallen in love with you very early on. He knows that it’s always been you, that you’re the only person he could ever devote his entire being to. He knows that you’re the only person he could ever love more than he selfishly loves himself, more than his life, more than the lives of others.

You show him a world of color before he can sink further into his disdain. You show him what it means to be supported, to not be lonely, to be consumed by fondness and friendship along with Suguru and Shoko. You show him humility, you show him comfort, you show him a life that he never would have believed he could live.

The sky is a brilliant blue in your wake, the birds chipper and melodic, the grass a lively green, and the world a canvas that you guide his hand to paint along with him.

A year later, losing Suguru takes an immense toll on the both of you. His loss stays with you for ten years, bleeding into your adulthood then resurfacing during and after his attack on the high school, soaking into your lives after his forced execution at his best friend’s hand.

Suguru’s death brings the two of you impossibly closer somehow. Now that you’re older, well into your late twenties and professors at the same school you attended in your earlier years, your lives mold into one another as the same.

Satoru protects you with his soul, horrified that you will one day slip from his fingers like Suguru did. He can’t stand the thought of losing you, his closest friend, his soulmate. He can’t stand the thought of the love of his life fading from his fingers and into distant memories that were once so close, so recent.

Satoru refuses to tell you that he is in love with you, and has for years, but he knows he doesn’t need to. Your relationship isn’t defined by your declarations, but by your innate understanding of who you are to each other.

Satoru loves you like no other. You’re the breath he takes, the water he drinks, his very existence at the palm of his hands. He knows you love him just the same, and he does not need to validate so by telling you. You’ve told each other hundreds of times, whispers in the night, feeble breaths against each other’s cheeks, laughs as you swoop one another up into your arms.

The two of you are love incarnate.

You are to be together until the end of time. Fated to die in each other’s arms at the end of the world when all sound has gone mute and all color has already drained from the world, when it is only the two of you left and you welcome the rest that awaits you at the final touch of your lips to each other’s.

Neither of you are meant to leave the other before you both are ready.

So why… why are the birds still chirping?

Something told Satoru not to let you take this mission.

Something deep in his gut was churning, giving him the worst possible feeling imaginable. Something visceral was screaming inside him, telling him to interfere, to make you stay back, to tell Yaga to cancel the entire thing.

You’re a grade one sorcerer now. You’re strong, you’re talented, you can and always have been able to hold your own, but something wasn’t right. Satoru knew this and he tried to convince Yaga to pull you back, but he didn’t listen. He tried to tell you to reconsider, that his instincts were telling him to keep you away, but you simply turned and smiled at him, those pretty (e/c) eyes of your glimmering and your soft lips curling kindly.

“Stop worrying, Toru,” you said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He’s staring at your body, pupils shrunken and face frozen.

It’s a sunny day. Partly cloudy. Almost two in the afternoon.

The birds are chirping and Satoru is staring at your body.

You lay against the brick wall, limbs twisted and head splattered against the building. You aren’t moving. You aren’t breathing. You’re oh so still, and Satoru can not pick up any vitals within your body signifying any life.

He can’t move. Is this real? Is he dreaming?

It’s sunny outside, like the day he met you, and the birds are chirping, and you’re lying limp before him.

He twitches, captured by shock, blue eyes dull, lips parted, eyes glazing over. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

Satoru’s mind swarms with images of you. He sees you as a child, swarming with light as you grin amiably at him in search of a friend. He sees you in the ice cream parlor, breath caught in your throat as your friends drag you away from his rejection of you. He sees you at the vending machine, sun in your eyes as you look at him as though you hate him, and he sees that hatred wash away to make room for your incandescent, raw, unconditional love for him.

He sees your hand reaching to brush his hair into place, your arms clinging around his torso to press yourself into him, your head tossing back with laughter after he tells a stupid joke, the tears drip from your eyes endlessly when the news of Suguru’s crimes fall upon your ears, the heat dusting your cheeks when Satoru looks you in your eyes and tells you that he will always protect you, the touch of your lips to his cheek, the twitch of your brown when you sleep, the grace of your love as it touches him softly as well as the students who have taken such an immense liking to you.

He sees you, all of you, and he can’t breathe.

“(Y/n),” his name tumbles from your lips, a whisper. He expects you to answer, but you don’t, and this nightmare becomes real before him. “(Y/n)?” he calls you again, voice rising, cracking, body trembling. You don’t respond. You don’t move. You don’t do anything. Why won’t you do anything?

He rushes to his knees before you, his blank expression morphing into horror. He grips your shoulders, taking your body into his and you slump into him. Your eyes, once so full of life, are gray as they stare into nothing, past his trembling face. “(Y/n),” he croaks your name again, a shaky hand reaching to touch your face. You’re cold.

No. No. No.

This isn’t supposed to happen. You aren’t supposed to leave him, not like this. You’re supposed to stay by his side until the end of time, you are supposed to be with him forever, you are supposed to come back to his place hours later with takeout in your hands, begging him to watch that one movie he had been dreading to sit through.

Not you. Anyone but you. Any sorcerer, any human, any life but yours. Not his love. Not his life. Not the source of all the color and joy and music in the world.

“Please, no,” he breathes. Satoru can feel himself unravel, his brain scrambling and his heart thudding into him. He’s panicking, hyperventilating, looking over every part of you as though you will lift a hand to cup over his and tell him that you’re fine, that you’re okay, that you got hurt badly, but you made it. “Fuck, no, no, fucking- (Y/n), wake up. Get up, come on, pretty, get up please! Please, please…”

His hands are soaking in your blood, and Satoru’s eyes blur over. He tries to pull your face up, to look into your eye, to plead you to gain consciousness, but there’s nothing. You give him nothing.

He sits there, staring at you in terror. Pearly tears cascade down his face before he even registers so, splattering onto your red stained cheek. His fingers dig into your body, pressing you close to him. His pants are drenched in your blood, but he doesn’t care.

How can he care about anything anymore?

A strangled cry rips the air from his chest as he clings to you, ducking his head and pressing his forehead to yours. He wraps you up into his arms, holding you over his waist as he rocks you back and forth.

“Not my baby,” he whimpers, nose flaring. “Not my beautiful girl. Please don’t leave me alone, sunshine, please.”

He’s lost. He’s devastated, heart broken, ripped apart.

You revealed a world to him that he had never known to be possible. A world that brought him back down to earth, that healed his trauma, that allowed him to breathe, that allowed him to know what it is like to be human. To be weak. To be loved in a way that the expecting world could never love him despite its constant demands for his sacrifice.

And now, you’re gone.

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how quickly you slipped away. He knows the life of a sorcerer is to accept death just as you did, but this isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to happen to you. He’s supposed to protect you. How could he have failed to protect you?

He should have been there. He should have prevented you from going. He should have locked you in a room and dealt with whatever curse did this to you himself. He shouldn’t have let you go. He should have done something. He should have fought harder, but he didn’t. And this is the price he must pay for trusting, for stepping away, for watching you assure him and turning your back to him as you walked off.

He knew and yet he let you go.

Satoru thinks he’s going to break. He can feel his mind shifting, his irregular breaths growing ragged. He can feel the unbridled hatred brewing, the rage, the urge to find and slaughter whatever beast took you away from him. He feels nothing, yet he feels everything all at once.

Nothing matters anymore, now that you’re gone. There is nothing holding him back, nothing keeping his demons at bay, nothing preventing him from letting loose without a care in this goddamn planet. The higher ups. They sent you. He’d kill them. He’d kill them all after finding your murderer and ripping them apart from the inside out.

Gojo is aching, for he doesn’t know what to do except hold you and cry against your pretty face, pressing shaky kisses to your forehead as he recites your name over and over.

He expects the sky to fall dark. He expects the plants surrounding to wilt. He expects life to stop as he knows it because an angel has died on earth. The source of the world’s life has been torn away.

But life continues around him. The sun beams down, the flowers sprout high…

And those birds keep chirping, though you are the only person who exposed the sound to him in the first place.

“Why…” he shivers, burying his head into your chest.

Why are the birds still chirping now that you’re gone?

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