Chapter Text
NANAMI
The phone rings again, and again, and again. I stifle the urge to crush the damned thing, my patience wearing thin.
She’s not answering.
She always answers.
The prickle at the back of my neck tells me something is off. Something has been off for days, this wild goose chase of a mission already draining my reserves. The higher ups gave me shoddy information, and while this isn’t a particularly difficult case, having to do my own prep work means it has quickly become a time consuming one.
Time I won’t get back. Time away from her.
And then, the morning I’d left, she’d been so shaken. She hasn’t had nightmares like that in a long time, where she’s shaking, eyes glassy, looking through me like she barely knows who I am…
Something was wrong, then, but I let my work take priority. I should have stayed in that bed with her and held her until she told me about it. Should have told the higher ups to fuck off, that I’m taking a long overdue vacation, and flown her to Malaysia like she’s always daydreaming about.
Then again, the list of ‘should haves’ in my life haunt me as is, ever-growing and always lingering.
I should have saved Haibara. Should have been there when Geto…
Should have let Gojo be the one to comfort her after. He knew her better, then, and maybe still does, which I hate. I know her tics. The way she scrunches her nose when she’s thinking, the way she snores just a little bit before she wakes up, the way her breath hitches and she clutches the sheets when she comes.
But he knows where she goes when she slips away. When she gets that far off look, dreamy and dazed, or when she starts muttering under her breath about odd ‘what ifs’. The six eyes sees everything, and he always saw her. The same way she saw Geto.
The same way I wanted her to see me. So even though I should have done a thousand things differently then, I slipped in the cracks, let her piece together my broken heart as I did my best to glue hers back together. Gave her a place to hide away, working in corporate for a few years to give us both the space to heal, far from Jujustu society. From Gojo.
It was good, for a while, just us. Our little home. Steady, boring jobs that made good money. But she wasn’t happy. There were so many nights when she’d sit me down, look me in the eyes, and tell me that she wished she wasn’t so selfish, as if that made any sense. That she should go back and try again, whatever that means, but she won’t, because she wouldn’t leave me.
So when she decided she was going back, that she was going to teach, because ‘that’s what Geto would have wanted,” I should have tried to stop her. Should have told her to be selfish. That the dead don’t get to want. Should have told her how much I needed her to be safe, even though I know she’s strong enough to take care of herself.
The phone keeps ringing, like a personal alarm bell in my ear.
The line beeps on the other end, the automated answering service clicking on in a robotic voice, and I hang up, cursing under my breath.
She didn’t text me good morning. She always does.
I stuff the phone back in the breast pocket of my suit, and pause when something crumples. Fingers shaking–fuck, am I nervous? I’m never nervous–I pull out a small, neatly folded slip of paper.
Unravelling it, my heart punches up to my throat as I notice y/n’s swirling, messy handwriting. It’s dated from two days ago, and my vision blurs as I read, head spinning, but not a single word makes sense.
I shouldn’t write this. It’s selfish that I am. But I’ve always been selfish when it comes to you, my love.
I tried to give us as much time as I could, but it’s too late. If I don’t act now, I don’t know that I’ll survive long enough to fix it. I’m too involved in this timeline, and we’ve already sacrificed too much. I’ve made the call, back to the anchor, and she’ll find me soon enough.
Every second with you has been once in a lifetime. Every touch, every quiet moment, every look. I’m glad it was you. I wish we had more time.
In the morning, you’ll still wake up next to me. But I’ll be a version of myself that can do what’s necessary. A version that isn’t so selfish, not yet, because she hasn’t known the perfect temptation of being your wife. She hasn’t known the glory of your touch, always so reverent and claiming. She hasn’t indulged in the joy it is to hear you laugh late at night, when you let your walls down. She doesn’t recall the thousands of small, daily devotions that have healed her wounds, the sweet ways you take care of her that make her feel whole again. I’ve never been strong enough to give you up, so I need you to be strong for us both.
I’ll always love you, in every timeline, in every universe. My soul will remember.
Sorry.
-y/n
I tear the letter to shreds. What the fuck?
I don’t care if she’s strong. If she’s more capable than I’ll ever be, her mind sharp and her skills sharper. If there are others that are more capable of protecting her or that understand her better, like Gojo. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it sounds like a goodbye, and I refuse to accept that.
If she wishes we had more time, I’ll give it to her. She can have all of my time, every last second of it.
“Fuck this,” I mutter out loud, loosening my tie and stashing my knife. I’d never walked off a job in twelve years, but there’s a first time for everything.
My wife needs me.
—----
Y/N
The incomplete domain is a maze of hallways and pipes, of rotten death and metallic whirring. Your head throbs with the energy pulsing through it, Sukuna’s finger radiating enough power to make your stomach clench.
But the thing living inside of you? It’s not easily phased. No, within, Kali stretches and spreads, growing with the power surrounding you. She’s feeding, you realize, using the free cursed energy in the air to bolster her presence.
It’s dizzying. Delightful. Your fear is still present, and urgent ticking in the back of your mind. You have to find the kids, have to redirect them, or you have to find the cursed finger and send yourself back before this mess. It’s a tall order after a sleepless night, but with Kali’s power thrumming through you, you feel powerful. Infinite.
Satoru would understand. Satoru and…
You turn a corner, and as if the thought alone summoned him, Geto Suguru stands there. Long black hair falls free around his shoulders, but the ends are split, the color dulled in comparison to the image of him you remember. His eyes lack their shine too, a haunting emptiness instead of that inviting darkness you miss…
Your throat closes, choking back sobs. No, this isn’t Geto. Your instincts were right.
“Hello, Harutoki.”He purrs, and though his voice is just as dark and smooth as it was when you were younger, the tone is off. Too flat, too unfeeling. The Geto you knew felt everything, even though he tried desperately to hide it. The man wearing his face smiled, cocking his head to the side…enough to reveal the row of stitches across his forehead. “Long time no see.”
He is strong in this form, but not strong enough. Kali’s presence surges again inside of you, blocking out the emotions spurring to life in your chest. He will try and lure you in, use this face to make you hesitate. Don’t believe it for a second.
You follow her orders easily; you wouldn’t be fooled by this imposter, not for a second. Cursed energy pools at your fingertips, ready to strike. “I don’t think we’ve met, Kenjaku.”
“You know me?” His eyes narrow as he laughs, the sound stiff and inhuman. Like he’d forgotten how to really make the sound, forgotten the levity behind it. “Wonderful. Then you don’t mind if I get more comfortable, yes?”
Reaching up, a glint in his dark eyes, he pulls back his scalp. Nausea burns your stomach, your throat, as the brain beneath smiles, revealing a row of teeth.
This isn’t a curse. Not a malediction like the fucking things you’ve been exorcising for years. No, Kenjaku is a parasite.
But you don’t give it the satisfaction of a reaction, at least not outwardly. No, you stare forward, unimpressed, letting Kali do her work internally.
Almost ready, little tiger.
“Who do you have on the inside at Jujustu high?” You ask calmly, hoping that the question throws him. He has to have connections, because sending Gojo and Nanami away and not calling you or Yuta before sending in Yuji and the others…yeah, someone in the school or amongst the higher-ups was already in Kenjaku’s palm.
A wicked grin cracks his face as he closes his skull, hiding the evidence of his true form.
“He always thought you were the smartest.” He gestures down at his stolen form, at the lithe figure that you feel like you know as well as your own. “And the loveliest. This body is quite fond of you. So many delicious memories.” His tongue darts out across his lips, and you physically recoil. “Almost makes me wish I could have a taste…”
His sentence is cut off by a crack of energy, so potent, so magnetic, so alluring, that you stagger, your heartbeat racing and stomach clenching.
“You would have to get in line, I’m afraid.” Satoru croons, standing in front of you protectively, materializing from thin air. “Namami is possessive, and I’ve been very patient for years now.”
“Satoru,” You breathe his name like a stammered prayer, relief washing over you. How he was here, you had no idea, but you were never one to pass up gifts. If Satoru was here, that meant you had more time. More options. Maybe, you didn’t have to let this timeline go. Maybe, just maybe, you could lean on the strongest a bit longer, like you had last night, and let Satoru wash away your fears like he always did. But he had to get to the kids first, and you had a score to settle with Kenjaku. “Nevermind, go find Yuji. Sukuna’s finger will have already turned into a special grade. You have to find Yuji before he makes the pact, or–”
“She’s not well, Satoru,” Suguru–no, Kenjaku–says, his voice so soft, so frightened, that even you almost believe it, this time. The impersonation is uncanny, the concern and fondness of his tone, the love and grief laced in every word as he continues. “She’s having another one of her episodes. I’m going to calm her down, and then take her to Shoko, okay? Then, we can talk.”
He reaches out, and his hand brushes Satoru’s shoulder…
He makes contact. Satoru’s breath hitches, as he realizes it too. His body still instinctively turns infinity off in Getos presence, conditioned to let him in, even if he knows…
Or maybe he doesn’t know. Not entirely. With his six eyes, Satoru Gojo can see everything clearly; except himself. Except for the weakness he has for Suguru, and for you. A weakness Kenjaku is pressing on using Geto’s stolen memories, your stolen secrets…
Crazy. Another Episode.
Too late.
But before the panic can catch up, there is a black flash that ripples through the air.
Satoru leaps back just in time, but Geto takes the brunt of the punch, and he goes flying a few feet back…
Your husband stands between you, his fist coated in that silly cheetah print tie you bought him as a gag graduation gift. That impressive flow of cursed energy hugs him like a glove, precise and powerful, just like the terse words that fly from his lips. “Watch how you talk to my wife.”
You fall to your knees at the sight of him there. Always taking care of you, always there to serve you. But the relief is short lived, as the power in your own veins comes to a boiling point.
Your lover gave us the last boost we needed. I must say, his energy tastes decadent.
He turns, looking over his shoulder to you, that soft smile gracing his normally stoic expression. “Hope you don’t mind, I left work early and called Satoru for a ride.”
No. No, you couldn’t leave him. Your body doesn’t want to, even though you know you have to. But you are a coward, and a selfish one at that. You just want more time with him, even if it meant living with the grief of losing Suguru…
Too late.
“Kento.” Tears blur your vision as you look between your husband, the imposter in Suguru’s body, and Satoru, still standing shell-shocked and rigid in the corner, twelve years of memories suspending him in time. And for a brief moment, you are glad that you’d given your memories to jump forward, that you aren’t haunted by the same flashbacks of pain he was. Because it gives you the clarity you need.
This timeline is special, that you could feel, even if you can’t remember. Your marriage with Nanami…that was a timeless, precious thing. And it would have been enough for you to be happy.
But you aren’t the only person you’d come to save.
And you know what you need to do.
Now, Kali shouts internally, and for once, you agree. The dam inside you breaks, and everything halts, those golden, brights threads twisting inside your chest, mapping out a way back. A chance.
You look up, a smile on your face, even as tears run down it. “I will love you in every timeline.”
The problem is, even you aren’t sure which one of them you were talking to.
But none of it matters as the timeline evaporates to dust before your eyes, and you feel the distinct sensation of falling.