little-cherry-bean-baby-witch

[little-cherry-bean-baby-witch]

All That I Was, All That You Are (Pt 3)

Author Note: I made it longer! Lmk if you prefer longer or shorter versions :) I will be working on Gojo's POV throughout the rest of the week. Enjoy! ----------------------------------------------------

The steam was still thick in the bathroom, clinging to the walls, wrapping around him like something suffocating. Suguru stared at the fogged-up mirror, unmoving. His reflection was nothing but a blurred shadow, a vague outline of a person who might have been. He thought about leaving it that way.��

What was the point of wiping it clean? 

Seeing himself wouldn’t change anything, would it? 

But his hand moved anyway. The motion was slow, almost hesitant, as he dragged his palm across the glass, clearing just enough space to reveal the man standing before him. And for a moment, he wished he hadn’t. The face that stared back at him was unfamiliar. His cheekbones were sharper, his jawline more defined than it used to be. Dark circles sat heavy under his eyes, stark against the paleness of his skin. His hair, once something he took care of, hung limply, still damp, strand clinging to his neck. He looked--empty. 

Would Satoru even recognize him if he really looked? 

Or would he still be waiting for someone who didn’t exist anymore? 

Suguru inhaled sharply and turned away before he could answer that. His uniform felt stiff when he pulled it on, the fabric rough against his skin. His arms felt heavier than usual as he moved, fastening the last of the buttons with mechanical precision. He didn't bother fixing his hair. 

It didn’t matter.

Nothing about him mattered. 

He glanced at the mirror one last time before leaving, waiting, hoping,to feel something. But nothing came.

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Satoru was waiting outside, looking bored out of his mind. “Finally,” he groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets as Suguru stepped out. “I was starting to think you drowned in there.” Suguru hummed in response, rolling his shoulders. Satoru fell into step beside him like it was second nature, falling into conversation just as easily. He filled the silence with meaningless chatter. Complaining about the weather, how Shoko had stolen his candy stash again, how boring today’s assignment sounded. Suguru let him talk, nodding in the right places, pretending to listen. But the world around him felt different to him.

As they walked through the crowded streets, he took in the people they passed. The way they laughed so easily, lived so effortlessly without knowing anything about the blood that stained the ground they walked on. 

Did Satoru ever really see them? Surguru wasn’t sure anymore. And that sat heavy in his chest, pressing against something raw.

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The job was routine. Easy. A group of lower-grade curses near a residential area, nothing either of them had to break a sweat over. The kind of mission they had done a hundred times before. The kind of mission that felt utterly pointless. Suguru exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders as the last curse writhed at his feet, its grotesque form barely clinging to existence. Its murky, contorted body twitched as it let out a wet, gurgling sound. 

Disgusting. 

He barely hesitated before pulling it in. The curses form distorted, its essence twisting into a thick, black mass as it was drawn towards him. The familiar sensation of it sliding down his throat, thick and  heavy, made his stomach lurch. Regardless, he swallowed it down with practiced ease. The taste was the same. 

It was always the same. 

Rotten.

Bitter.

Foul. Once, he had been able to ignore it. Push past the nausea. Accept it as part of his technique. Now? Now, it clung to the back of his throat, leaving an acrid taste on his tongue. That made something deep inside him twist. It was like swallowing poison and convincing himself it wouldn’t kill him. He swallowed again, trying to rid himself of the lingering taste, but it stayed. It always stayed. “God, that's still so nasty.”  Satoru's voice was light, amused, cutting through the moment with ease. Suguru barely had time to brace himself before Satoru clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I swear, every time I see you do that, I feel like I should offer you a breath mint or something. You sure you don’t wanna carry gum around? Maybe a little candy to get rid of that ‘I just ate a rotting curse’ aftertaste?” Suguru didn’t laugh. He should have. 

He used to. Instead, he pulled away from Satoru's grip and wiped the back of his mouth with his sleeve. The taste still lingered. He hated it. He hated all of it. 

“People died, Satoru.” His voice came out flat. Cold. He had no jokes. What was there to joke about? The fact they did their jobs? Saved a few lives and still lost some? Why did Satoru always find a joke in these situations? Suguru never found the same humor Satoru always did. How was it so easy to brush death off as a joke? Satoru blinked, clearly caught off guard. His expression flickered for just a second. Too fast to read, too fast to hold onto. Before the familiar smirk started to pull at his lips. “Well, yeah, but-” “But what?” The words slipped out before Suguru could stop them, sharper than he intended, heavier than he meant to let on. Something shifted in the air. For the first time, Suguru let himself really look at Satoru. The way he stood there, still relaxed, still carrying himself like none of this mattered.  

Because it didn’t, did it? 

Not to him. Satoru Gojo, the strongest. The untouchable. The one who never had to swallow filth just to survive. The one who never had to feel curses settle inside his body like something rotten, something festering, something that would never truly leave him. Satoru didn’t have to taste the things he exorcised. 

Didn’t have to carry them inside of him. Suguru clenched his jaw, forcing the words back before he said something he couldn’t take back. Not yet. He turned away “Forget it.” His hands curled into firsts at his sides as he started walking, moving ahead before Satoru could stop him. But Satoru didn’t move. Suguru could feel his stare burning into his back, lingering longer than it should have. And for a moment, just a moment, Suguru thought, maybe he finally sees it. But it was too late. Suguru wasn't sure there was anything left to see. 

[little-cherry-bean-baby-witch]

All That I Am, All That You were (Pt 2)

Author Note: Here is part 2 of the Gojo POV. I'll start working on part 3 of the Geto version after I finish some of my college work lol. Hopefull you like it! I'll be sure to start making the parts a little longer as I make more.

Satoru told himself he wouldn’t think about it. Not the silence. Not the way Suguru sounded off. Not the fact that he had been standing outside the damn bathroom door for longer than he should have, waiting for something-anything-that might prove that things weren’t falling apart. But now, standing just outside their dorm room, he found himself hesitating. His hand hovered over the door handle. What was he expecting? 

That he’d walk in and see something different?

That Suguru would turn around, smirk, and say something stupid just to prove him wrong? 

He almost wished for that. But when he finally pushed the door open, he was met with the quiet sound of shuffling. Suguru stood in front of the mirror, still shirtless, his towel hanging loosely around his waist. His long, damp hair clung to his skin, dripping water onto the floor. 

Didn’t he always hate that feeling?

The room smelled of steam, thick and heavy, curling around the edges of the fogged-up mirror. And Suguru was just…standing there. Still. Silent. Staring at himself like he didn’t quite recognize what he was looking at. Satoru’s finger twitched at his side. The sight sent something unpleasant curling in his stomach, something unfamiliar, something that felt too much like worry. Instead of addressing it, he leaned lazily against the doorway, forcing his usual smirk on his lips. “Damn, Suguru. Stare any harder and you might fall in love with yourself.” Suguru didn’t laugh. Didn’t even roll his eyes. He just blinked slowly, like he was pulling himself back from somewhere else. Then, with an exhale, he reached for a dry towel and dragged it over his hair, ignoring the way Satoru was still watching him. The silence stretched. Satoru never did like silence. “So,” he tried again, stretching his arms over his head, “are you planning on getting dressed anytime soon, or are we starting a new trend here? Because I gotta say, as far as uniforms go, a towel doesn’t really scream ‘Jujutsu Sorcerer’ to me.” That earned him something, a soft huff, barely a laugh, but not quite. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Suguru turned away from the mirror, dropping the towel to his shoulders before finally meeting Satoru’s gaze. His expression was unreadable, something quiet and heavy in his eyes. 

There it was again. 

That thing. 

That feeling that Satoru had been pretending not to notice. Suguru wasn’t just tired. He was something else. Something Satoru couldn’t put into words. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t say anything. Instead, he let his smirk sharpen, masking whatever unfamiliar thing was gnawing at his chest. “Alright, alright, I get it. You just wanted to show off,” he teased, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it. But don’t take too long. If you make me wait any longer, I’ll have no choice but to start my tragic villain arc, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Suguru hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t say much else.

Satoru turned to leave, pretending he didn’t feel the weight of Suguru’s stare lingering long after he was gone. Pretending he didn’t care. Because if he let himself care, if he let himself admit that something was wrong, he’d have to do something about it. And truth was, he wasn’t sure he knew how.

[little-cherry-bean-baby-witch]

All That I Am, All That You were

Author Note: Okay! So, the first two parts of this one are going to be short. I do apologize for that, BUT as I work on the Geto story I will make these one's longer (Because his will be longer as well). This one will be from Gojo's POV, but I will build off of the first story. Just so we get both sides as we go along. Also, I do have both parts created for this. I will post the second part after I finish editing it.

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Satoru never really paid attention to the little things. Or maybe he did, but only when it truly mattered. And this? Well, it didn’t matter. At least that was what he kept telling himself. Suguru had been acting strange for a while now. It wasn’t obvious, not in the way most people would notice. If anyone else looked at him, they’d probably see the same old Suguru. Tall, sharp, a little quieter than usual, but still Suguru Geto. However, Satoru Gojo wasn't like most people. He noticed the small things. The way Suguru’s uniform fit just a little loose these days, how his sleeves didn’t stretch as snugly around his arms. The way his hair once always neatly combed, looked just a little more unkempt. He noticed how he barely touched his food at lunch, how his once clever, easy remarks had dulled into simple nods and vague hums of acknowledgment. But more than anything, Satoru noticed the silence. Suguru had never been loud, but his presence always carried a weight to it. One Satoru had never really appreciated until it started to slip away. Their conversations weren’t the same. The back-and-forth they used to have, the unspoken understanding, the way they used to trade sarcasm like a language of their own. It was fading, turning into something unfamiliar. Satoru hated it. But instead of doing anything about it, he just told himself it wasn’t real. That it was just his imagination. That Suguru was in fact fine. Because if he wasn’t, then what the hell was Satoru supposed to do about it? He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, foot tapping idly against the floor. The sound of running water filled the hall, steady and unbroken. “It’s been thirty minutes,” he called, his voice carrying over the noise. “Just making sure your clumsy ass didn’t fall and die.” 

Silence.

Too long.

 Then, finally, “Haven’t died. I’ll be out soon.” The response was flat. Emotionless. Not even the usual exasperation or half-hearted insult that Suguru would normally throw back at him. Satoru frowned. Something about the quiet made his skin itch. He could imagine Suguru in there, standing under the spray with his head bowed, steam curling around his shoulders, his mine somewhere far away. It was probably nothing. Probably. “Damn,” Satoru scoffed, tilting his head back against the wall. “And here I thought I was about to get a promotion.”

No reply.

Not even the soft huff of amusement he’d been hoping for. The silence stretched. Satoru shifted his weight, suddenly feeling restless. He could just open the door. Call out something stupid, force Suguru to react, because wasn’t that what he was best at? Shoving his way in, forcing things to be okay even when they weren’t? He should say something. 

But he didn’t.

Because there was a small, sinking part of him that whispered that if he acknowledged it- if he actually voiced what he was thinking-then it would be real. And Satoru Gojo didn’t deal with things like that. So, instead, he pushed off the doorframe, exhaling sharply. “Well, hurry up before you shrivel like an old man,” he said, voice as casual as ever. He left before he could hear the response. Because it didn’t matter. 

It couldn’t matter.

Suguru would tell him if something was wrong. Right? …Right?

[little-cherry-bean-baby-witch]

All That I was, All That You Are (Pt. 2)

Author Note: I am happy that you guys liked it! I enjoy writing, and love to do it in my free time. So, hopefully you guys like this one too. Just trying to keep the parts short, but if you would like longer parts let me know! Or if you wanna throw out some ideas. I do enjoy hearing ideas for different things!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───── Satoru never seemed to notice the changes. The way Suguru’s frame had thinned, how his uniform hung just a little looser. The dark circles forming under his eyes, the exhaustion weighing down his every movement. Satoru never said a word about any of it. Maybe he noticed and chose not to acknowledge it. Maybe he didn’t care. 

Was he even his best friend anymore? 

Suguru used to think they were inseparable. That they had always known each other; every thought, every flaw, every unspoken weight. He thought they were untouchable. That no matter how much the world tried to pull them apart, they would remain constant. But time had a cruel way of peeling things apart, exposing cracks Suguru wasn’t sure had always been there or if they had simply deepened without either of them realizing.

Now, he stood in front of a reflection he barely recognized. His long hair, once something he took pride in, now hung lifeless against his back, damp from the shower. He used to hate the way wet hair clung to his skin, the uncomfortable heaviness of it. Now, he hardly noticed. The towel wrapped loosely around his waist, but he made no effort to dry off. The mirror before him was still fogged from the heat, his blurred reflection staring back at him.

 Maybe it was a metaphor. 

A version of himself that no longer existed, concealed beneath layers of steam, just out of reach. Maybe if he wiped it away, he’d see something real. Maybe he wouldn’t see anything at all. What would he see? Would it even be worth it? 

A ghost? 

Would that even make it all better?

 The thought settled uncomfortably in his chest. The door creaked slightly as Satoru leaned against the frame, his voice cutting through the silence. “You’re taking forever.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was something beneath it. Something he couldn’t read. Suguru didn’t look at him, “So impatient.” His voice so quiet compared to the others. A scoff followed, “You just like making me wait, huh?” Once, he would have laughed at the comment. Would have rolled his eyes and thrown some sharp remark back at him. But instead, he let out a slow breath, reaching for his discarded clothes. Satoru’s eyes never seemed to leave him. Suguru could feel it. Suguru didn’t know why it irritated him. Maybe because it had taken Satoru this long to really look at him, and even now, he wasn’t sure if his best friend was truly seeing him or just glancing, waiting for the moment to pass. There was a time when that gaze had been comforting. When Satoru’s presence had felt like something unshakable, an anchor kept him steady in a world that never stopped shifting. But now, it felt distant 

Or maybe Suguru was the one drifting. He wanted to say something. Ask if Satoru ever felt it too, the widening gap between them. If he ever wondered when things had started to shift. If he missed the way they used to be. But the words stuck, heavy in his throat.

What was the point? 

Satoru Gojo didn’t notice the things he wasn’t ready to see. And Suguru was getting tired of waiting for him to look.

[little-cherry-bean-baby-witch]

All That I Was, All That You Are

Author Note: Hello! I wrote this the other night. I plan on making a few more parts, and also publishing it on ao3 at some point. I figured I would start it on here to see how it goes before going there. I do hope you enjoy! Let me know if there is anything I can approve on <3 This is primarily from Getou Suguru's POV, and will take place during the Hidden inventory arc. Specifically when Suguru started to spiral. Just kind of wanted to rewrite it and change it up a bit. Possible good ending or maybe I'll make a bad ending as well. TW- Depression, depressing thoughts.

The days stretched endlessly, blurring together in an unrelenting cycle of push and shove, give and take, and yet people kept dying. Blood drenched his hands as if he had spilled it himself. The memories played in his mind like an old film, each frame sharper than the last. But what even was today? Time passed meaninglessly, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. Geto Suguru was many things, but of those things he was never the strongest. Never the one wielding enough power to create real change. He fought as if his life depended on it, as if this life was worth living. Did he even know who he was anymore? Or was he no more than a husk that wished to breathe again? His thoughts clawed at his mind. Each one trying to claim him like a leach. To him he was no more than a host with parasites leaching to the weakest parts. When did it even start? Was it Rika- the way they cheered for her death like savages? Or was it Haibara, another name carved into the ever-growing list of losses? It was all so much. A weight setting on his chest that he could never lift. He was a sourcer, a god to the people, a protector of the innocent, and yet the innocent found enjoyment in others' deaths. A cruel, sick world that had been created, and yet, those same innocents revealed in death. A cruel, sick world. That he had no power to change it. Satoru did. And yet, even his dearest friend had no desire to erase it. To start anew. To create a world where none of this suffering had to exist. The one thing Geto had dreamed of, grasped for, and it was so far out of reach. The water rolled down his back. Each droplet hitting the tile beneath his feet. His mind clouded in nothing but thoughts. The steam fogged most of the room, and he was just standing there. His head rested against the wall, his once-lively eyes dull and lifeless. His black hair stuck to various spots on his back. The emotions were overwhelming. Tears were nowhere to be seen, all he could feel was nothing. A void that once was filled was now just an empty abyss. Did he blame himself? No. Not logically. He knew that, but the guilt never listened to logic. He was meant to keep Rika safe, and he let her slip between his fingers. If Satoru had been there then maybe she would have been alive, but he wasn’t. It was only Suguru, and he failed the mission. His fist pressed against the wall, knuckles whitening as the thoughts tore through him. He would never be on Satoru’s level. He had never stood a chance at protecting her. How was that fair? How was it that Satoru was everything he wasn’t? He hated his cursed technique. Every curse tasted the same. If he was a non-sorcerer then maybe his life would have been different. Maybe he wouldn’t be surrounded by death. Maybe he wouldn't feel like he was constantly sinking. Then maybe he would feel something different. Not the endless void that threatened to consume him so easily.  

Knock, knock. The sound barely registered through the haze. Suguru’s eyes flickered toward the door, but he said nothing. Another round of knocking. “What?” His voice was quieter than he intended, but it carried. “It’s been like thirty minutes! Just needed to make sure your clumsy ass didn’t fall and die.” Satoru. His voice grated against his nerves more than usual. He had always been arrogant, always cocky, but lately, it was unbearable. “Haven’t died. I’ll be out soon.” There was a time when he would have a witty comeback. A sharp remark to throw back at Satoru’s teasing. However, he had nothing left. Humor felt foreign, as if it had been carved out of him, leaving nothing but this silence. They had once been inseparable, an unstoppable force that irritated everyone around them. But now, there was a rift. A distance only Suguru could feel. Satoru lingered for a moment before the footsteps retreated. The silence settled again, thick like a fog. Suguru stared at the tiles before him, the water still cascading down his back.

He should move. He should get out. Dry off. Dress. 

Do something. 

But He didn’t. Because, really-was he even living anymore? He couldn’t tell. And maybe that was the worst part.

[little-cherry-bean-baby-witch]

The old gods are not dead

I hear Athenas war cry in the shouts of protests,

fighting a war now closer to home,

I see her in the young women with picket signs

clenched tightly in their fists

Hera curses the names of the abusers

The ones who break families and marriages

Her voice heard in the wedding bells of young lovers

Poseidon now resides in a beach home

Going out every night to pick of trash left by the day

Shooting daggers at the drunk men letting their bottles be swept away

Demeter can be heard cursing the politicians refusing to believe in global warming

Names of scientists and studies on the tip of her tongue

She is found teaching young children how to grow their food at the community garden

Ares is found on the front lines of a different war, not fighting but protecting the innocent

Guiding classrooms of children away from gunfire,

His shield protecting the terrified

Apollo can be found at opens mics

Reciting his latest works

Or walking down the street in docs on his feet and a guitar on his back

He knows he’s the coolest

Artemis is seen on the streets

Her bow and arrow have long left her

Carrying nothing more than a knife and mace

She hunts a different kind of monster now

Hephaestus resides in a workshop at all hours of the night

Creating custom pieces for the right price and a warm smile

The hammer making him feel invincible

Aphrodite’s song is heard in the breathy kisses of teenagers

Shes found walking down the street, lips a blood red

Punching the men who dare disrespect her  

Hermes is seen with a smirk as he walks long well-traveled roads

Delivering the messages of those needing to be heard

Traveling, telling stories, and wearing out another pair of shoes

Dionysus’s voice heard only over the pounding bass in the bar

Keeping watch over young girls drinks

Dancing, partying and living as he throws another one back

Hades is seen weeping over the graves of those taken much to soon

Looking to his wife for comfort

He’s long lost his faith in humanity

Persephone found in the gardens beside her mother in the spring

Brushing off girl’s dirty knees and putting flower crowns on their heads

She can be seen holding onto hades as he mourns the loss of life

Hecate will be found running metaphysical shops

Bringing hope to powerful women wanting more

Selling potions, nobody thinks will work

And collecting graveyard dirt for a new spell

Zeus is watching over everyone

Watches Athena cry

Hera curse the men, he being one of them

Poseidon’s glares

Demeter’s harsh words

Ares raising his shield

Apollos singing

Artemis as she tracks a new beast

Watches Hephaestus work

Sees Aphrodite punch

Hears Hermes words

Sees hades weep

And Persephone plant and comfort her partner

And grins as Hecate keeps magic alive

The old gods are not dead

They are alive

And they are watching

- Sayali C.