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Tokyo buzzes around them restlessly.
Crowds pour down the sidewalks—footsteps thud on concrete, shopping bags rustle in the wind, voices folding into one another in a low, constant hum. Sunlight reflects off tall glass buildings and car windshields. Somewhere, music leaks from an open door. Somewhere else, a horn blares.
Satoru walks.
One foot in front of the other. The rhythm settles easily into his body. Suguru is a few steps ahead, close enough that Satoru is just following him without thinking, close enough that the crowd seems to part on its own. When Suguru slows, Satoru slows. When he turns, Satoru turns with him.
They slip down stairs into the station, air cooling as concrete replaces sky. Ticket gates click open and shut in steady intervals. An announcement echoes overhead.
Satoru keeps following Suguru.
The platform is full, but it doesn’t feel crowded. People stand shoulder to shoulder, some scrolling on their phones, some staring down the tunnel, some leaning into familiar silences. The subway arrives with a rush of wind, doors sliding open.
They step inside, the doors hissing shut behind them.
The car lurches forward.
And suddenly, something in Satoru snaps back online.
His breath hitches.
What the fuck—
Sound rushes in all at once. The clatter of wheels on rail, the low hum of the AC vent overhead. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. A woman seated across from them keeps her eyes on her phone. A kid with his palms flat against the window watches the tunnel smear into streaks of gray. Sound, motion, people—too many people.
Satoru’s shoulders lock. His pulse kicks hard against his chest as he takes it all in, suddenly, violently aware of how much he missed.
Nothing is wrong. He can see that now. But that’s not the problem.
The problem is that he didn’t see it before.
Why hadn’t he been watching? Why hadn’t he been scanning faces, tracking movement, mapping the car the second he stepped inside? His Six Eyes should have been scanning through the space automatically, feeding him information faster than he can consciously name it.
It always does.
Except, on the street, trailing behind Suguru, it didn’t.
No—it’s not that it didn’t. The Six Eyes don’t stop. They never do. It’s that Satoru didn’t register it.
That’s never happened before. He’s always, always on alert. Always gathering and processing information. Always has his thoughts running at high speed.
But as he was following behind Suguru, he thought nothing. His usual meticulous awareness was put on the back burner. Like he’d handed the reins over without thinking, let Suguru thread them through the city while he simply followed.
Now Satoru’s panicking a little.
And Gojo Satoru does not panic. Never once has he been this frazzled by something.
Why would he do that?
Why did he think nothing of his calmness in the moment? Why had it felt natural enough that he hadn’t questioned it until now, until the doors were closed and the train was already carrying them forward?
Why did his brain suddenly just—shut off?
The train rolls forward, a steady sway beneath their feet.
Satoru adjusts his stance without thinking, fingers curling at his side.
Suguru glances over, probably nothing the way Satoru’s shoulders have gone a fraction tighter, the way his weight has shifted closer to the pole than before.
“What’s up?” Suguru asks, voice low, nearly swallowed by the hum of the subway.
Satoru blinks, then looks at him. For a second, he doesn’t answer. The question seems distant, like it’s coming from another area of the room.
“Nothing,” he answers.
Suguru watches him for another beat, eyes searching his face, then he lets it drop. He turns back toward the window as the tunnel lights streak past.
The subway keeps moving.
Satoru stays where he is, steady once more, the car carrying them forward as if nothing had happened at all.
. . . .
Satoru avoids Suguru.
He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t even think it was Suguru’s fault. But Suguru was the one who was with him when it happened, so Satoru’s reasoning is simple—if he keeps his distance, if he stays away from Suguru, it won’t happen again.
And when Satoru is around Suguru, he’s tense—on even higher alert than before. He’s not letting that strange bout of thoughtlessness happen again.
After class one afternoon—after sitting rigid at his desk and pretending nothing was wrong despite being tense for the whole period—Satoru rises quickly from his seat, already moving to dodge Suguru again.
Suguru, though, seems determined to catch him today.
“Hey, Satoru—“
Satoru moves before he can think better of it. His chair scrapes harshly against the floor as he bolts for the door.
He makes it back to his dorm in record time, breath uneven, heart pounding harder than it should. He slams the door shut behind him, his shoulder hitting the wood with more force than necessary.
Suguru won’t follow him this time, right? He hasn’t tried chasing down Satoru before. There’s no reason he would now—
But no.
Satoru can sense Suguru’s cursed energy, familiar and unmistakable, drawing closer. It prickles along his skin, sets his nerves humming like a live wire.
He exhales slowly and braces himself.
The knock comes a second later.
Satoru stares at the door. For half a beat, he considers not answering. Pretending he isn’t here. Pretending he doesn’t feel Suguru standing right on the other side.
He opens it anyway.
“Satoru,” Suguru says, a little out of breath from rushing after him. “Hi.”
The words land awkwardly, sounding almost hesitant. Suguru doesn’t usually sound like that around him.
“What is it?” Satoru tilts his head.
“C’mon,” Suguru scoffs. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Suguru shakes his head, almost as if he’s trying to decide which topic he’s trying to address first. “Can I come in?”
“Y’know,” Satoru drawls, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, “now’s not really a good time. I was about to—”
“Satoru,” Suguru cuts him off, voice low, serious in a way that makes Satoru’s stomach dip.
There it is. The look, too—the one that means Suguru isn’t letting this go.
“Fine, fine,” Satoru says after a beat, stepping aside. “Come in.”
Suguru enters his room carefully. He pulls out the desk chair and sits, movements slow—like any sudden motion might make Satoru change his mind and kick him back out.
Satoru might. He really doesn’t have a good explanation as to why he’s avoiding Suguru. He isn’t even sure he understands it himself.
Satoru closes the door and perches on the edge of his bed, keeping space between them.
“So,” Suguru starts once Satoru’s seated. “What’s up with you lately?”
Satoru shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you.”
Suguru looks at him. Just looks.
Satoru holds the stare for a second too long, then looks away first.
Suguru exhales through his nose. “Dude. You know you can talk to me, right? Like, did I do something? Or…?”
“No,” Satoru dismisses the idea immediately. “It’s not you.”
Suguru raises a brow, waiting for him to keep going.
Satoru doesn’t.
The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable.
“…Okay,” Suguru says finally. “Then what is it?”
Satoru takes a moment to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t want to say this out loud—he hates how vulnerable it sounds, how much it feels like admitting a weakness—but Suguru is probably the one and only person he could trust with this.
“I think my Six Eyes aren’t working.”
Suguru’s brows furrow.
“No. That’s not—” Satoru corrects himself, shaking his head. “I think I’m not working with my Six Eyes.”
Suguru stills. “What do you mean?”
Satoru shifts on the bed, fists clenching beside him. “Not like—broken,” he says quickly. “I mean… when we were in Tokyo the other day, they weren’t giving me information. Or—” He hesitates, “It’s more like I wasn’t registering it. Like it was there, and I just… didn’t take it in.”
Suguru’s expression morphs into concern. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t know.” Satoru swallows. His throat feels dry. “When we were walking to the subway station, I just wasn’t focused on anything—other than…” he rubs at the back of his neck. “Just, following you? Everything else kind of dropped out. Like my brain went offline or something.” A beat. “Maybe I should see Shoko.”
Suguru doesn’t look alarmed at that. His expression shifts instead—confusion first, then faint amusement, something helplessly fond settling in after.
“I know what you mean,” Suguru says, “Has that… never happened to you before?”
“What?” Satoru blinks.
That was a common occurrence?
“You mean—” He stops himself. “That’s a thing?”
Suguru opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly reconsidering how to answer.
“…Yeah,” he says carefully. “You know, like, for example, when you’re following your mom or dad through a crowded grocery store—you don’t really think about where to go, you just follow them ‘cause you know they know where they’re going?”
Satoru frowns and shakes his head. He’s never done that. Not once.
“That, uh—” Suguru hesitates, then shrugs, clearly committing now. “That happens to me too? With you, I mean. Like when we’re walking to class, I just listen and follow you. I know you know where we’re going, so I don’t really think about it.”
“That’s different,” Satoru says immediately. “You’re inside the barrier. This was in the city.”
“It’s the same concept.” Suguru sighs. “Satoru, it’s not a bad thing to relax around people.”
Just hearing that gives Satoru whiplash from its absurdity.
A sharp, disbelieving laugh almost slips from his lips. Relax? Around people?
All his life, it’s always been ‘stay sharp, keep your guard up, stay focused.’ Not because it was demanded of him, but because it was his responsibility. He was the holder of the Six Eyes. With his mind constantly filtering the information his eyes took in, letting his guard down had never felt like an option.
Never once has someone told him ’it’s not a bad thing to relax.’ Satoru thinks this might be a joke.
“You don’t have to be at full alert all the time,” Suguru says. “You know, with people you trust.” Then, after a moment, he adds, “not with me.”
Not with me.
Satoru looks away, jaw tightening.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he says. “In Tokyo. I shouldn’t have lost focus.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Suguru says helplessly. “It’s not. You just put your trust in me for a minute. Nothing’s wrong with that.”
“And if it happens again?” Satoru asks, quieter now. “What if I miss something important?”
Suguru doesn’t answer right away. When he does, it’s simple. “Then I’ve got you,” he answers. “Same way you’ve always got everything else.”
Satoru looks back at him.
He looks serious in a way Satoru doesn’t see often—like he truly means it.
The room feels too small suddenly. Too still. Satoru swallows, pulse loud in his ears.
And suddenly he understands why he’s been avoiding Suguru.
Because for those few minutes in Tokyo, having his mind go quiet felt good. Because it was easy. Because it made him feel safe.
Satoru nods once.
“Alright.”
He decides, then, to trust Suguru’s word.
. . . .
Satoru climbs the wide stone steps toward the school entrance, already missing the beaches of Okinawa. He and Suguru should go back someday. Maybe even bring Shoko, Nanami, Haibara—make it a real trip this time, not just a mission.
Riko walks beside him. Suguru’s ahead of them, moving with that familiar confidence as the group steps closer to Jujutsu Tech.
Satoru is just following Suguru, really.
They’re almost at the barrier now. He can feel it, the faint pressure in the air, like static before a storm. His Infinity has been up longer than it ever has before, but it’s almost over. Just a few more steps.
It’ll be nice to let it drop. To finally relax. Like Suguru mentioned.
The barrier ripples as they pass through, light bending for half a second before settling again. The sensation slides over his skin and is gone.
Satoru keeps walking.
One foot in front of the other, carried forward by momentum more than intention. He follows Suguru toward Tengen, not really thinking about it.
“Satoru.”
Suguru turns to him, smiling warm and genuine. “You really worked hard this time.”
Something in Satoru loosens.
He finally lets the Infinity fall away, a long breath leaving his chest as the tension drains with it.
The way Suguru is looking at him, the way he says his name—it makes everything else fade, until it feels like they’re the only two people here.
Satoru scoffs quietly, rolling his eyes even as the corner of his mouth lifts.
“I never wanna get stuck babysitting some kid again.”
And then—
Cold.
Sharp and sudden, driving straight through him.
The unmistakable bite of a blade pierces his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs before his mind can catch up.
The world around him lurches.