Work Text:
“I’ve made my decision. Now it’s just a matter of doing the best I can to achieve it.”
Barely sparing Satoru a glance Suguru turns away, his words and posture the perfect facade of calm. But, Satoru could see. He could see and saw just how wrong this all was. How had he let this happen? How had he missed the signs?
He had been absent since the disaster that was the star-plasma vessel mission, both in body and mind. Satoru felt like he was floating on more than one occasion, going through routines of life without being present for the experience. The higher ups had tightened the leash which they held him on since his recent upskill in power. Every minute of the day there was always a new mission or task that only ‘the strongest’ could handle. Satoru had let himself be led like a dog, if only to not think about in which all the ways he had failed.
He would’ve snapped, was going to. All those non-shamans, who cheered, celebrated as Satoru held Anamai’s lifeless body in his arms. Their applause rang out in his head loud enough to give him a headache. Anamai had still been warm to the touch, it wasn’t even that long ago that they were playing in Okinawa.
He had wanted to kill them, to purge the world of their filthy existence. He would have enjoyed it, he thinks.
It was only because of Suguru, it was always Suguru, that he had held himself back. Suguru had stopped Satoru from crossing that line, that tipping point of no return.
“No..”
Suguru had said, his voice sounding equally as hollow as Satoru felt. Like a dog Satoru had obeyed, there was no more death that day.
Suguru had been there to stop Satoru, to pull him away from the edge. But, where had Satoru been when Suguru needed him? The dark pit of shame and guilt that was festering within Satoru only grows further when he realises he can count the amount of times he has spoken to Suguru in the past few months on a single hand.
It would be selfish for Satoru to blame the higher ups for his absence. After all, everything Satoru did was his own choice. But, to blame someone else would be so much easier than accepting that he was the cause of this, the reason Suguru….
He should have been there. He should have noticed that Suguru was slipping. It was evident from the dark circles beneath his eyes, to the way his clothes seemed to be looser each time Satoru encountered Suguru. He should have kept pushing when Suguru said he was “fine”. How could Satoru have accepted that as the truth when something was so clearly wrong.
Saturo had failed Suguru, that was the truth. He had known this for a while now, it was more so obvious in the way that Suguru had stopped seeking Satoru out, how late night phone calls had become minimal before becoming nonexistent. How Satoru stopped knowing everything that was his other half, how he felt as though there was a hole growing within his soul.
Saturo had known. Satoru had done nothing.
It was now with Suguru having his back to him that Satoru realised how badly he had screwed up. His world was warping, the colour fading. His light was fading, it was leaving him, he was leaving him. Satoru had never truly realised how dull the world was without Suguru until he was faced with that reality.
How had Satoru lived before? Without Suguru? He doesn't know and refuses to find out. The world had been so dark and grey. Satoru wasn’t alive before he met Suguru, he hadn't lived. The Satoru before Suguru wasn’t Satoru at all, he was just a puppet being led on a string.
Suguru had given Satoru air, shown him how to live. How to be Satoru and not the ‘six eyes’. He was the first person to look at Satoru and see Satoru, a person rather than a weapon. It was something he didn’t know he needed until he had it.
Satoru was too greedy to let go of it now. He couldn’t go back to how he was before, a hollow shell of a person, a weapon.
Even now, Satoru didn’t understand how to articulate his emotions properly, how to read other people and understand. Maybe he never would, but Suguru made it worth trying.
So when Suguru turns his back to Satoru in the bustling city street, Satoru’s face scrunched up in distress and anger (not at Suguru, never at Suguru), morphed to that of panic. He was leaving, Suguru was leaving. Satoru didn’t want to learn to breathe without his oxygen.
Initially, Satoru on instinct pulls his hands up into a familiar fighting stance, his body automatically preparing to fight the threat that was nothing more than Satoru’s heart itself. He slowly lowers his arms to his side, watching painfully as Suguru is swept up in the faceless mass of people.
On the outside Satoru currently looked enraged, but on the inside he was breaking, was this really the end?
Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current era, defeated by Suguru Geto and the man himself wasn’t even aware of it. If Suguru knew how much power he held over Satoru would he stay? Would he look back at Satoru and hesitate?
Was Satoru even worthy of being the reason for Suguru’s indecision?
The answer was no longer as clear to Satoru as it had been before, refusing to acknowledge that it was clear how Suguru felt about Satoru.
Was there a point to being the strongest if there was no one worth being strong for?