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[ascends]

@ itadakimasu

In what is definitely Satoru Gojo's voice: "You've reached Suguru Geto! Leave a message!"

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[mugen]

[Satoru isn't the egocentric teenager he was when Suguru first turned away.

He's a different person — one who is mindful of the students he teaches, even when he's forgoing typical teaching methods to impart lessons. He's cognizant of the issues in jujutsu society, and he understands the importance of having strong allies stand beside him, rather than behind him. Satoru truly strives for change — and does his best to ensure that his students will be strong enough to seize it when the time comes.

He is no longer blind to what is in front of him.

But Satoru doesn't always want to see what he has no choice to observe, and there are still ways in which he remains flawed. This is a case in point: still tired, still vulnerable, still observing the way their cursed energy intertwines, Satoru strives for forward momentum and distraction, making gestures that are more annoyances, backsliding because it's easier.

Satoru doesn't regret much in his life, but when he thinks about regret, it always takes the shape of Suguru: Suguru walking away. Suguru's body without Suguru inside.

As Suguru's fingers finally reach for him, finally make contact, Satoru thinks that this, too, feels something like regret: wistful, nostalgic, and too dangerous to indulge. His Infinity allows Suguru in without any fanfare, and that also feels too much like before to settle quietly in the now.

But Satoru has egged this on, and so he doubles down in his commitment. He takes Suguru's hand entirely in his, linking their fingers together, and thinks about how warm and alive Suguru's hand feels — how whole Suguru is, missing nothing at all. He thinks about all the things his hand has done, and all the things it could do, and despite the burden of history and the unknown days to come, how perfectly it still fits in his own.

This was supposed to be the easiest of all the possible ways that Suguru could earn his keep — a simple gesture, to indicate his willingness to make an effort. It wasn't supposed to cost him anything.

But when he has to suppress the urge to tighten his grip to keep Suguru from pulling away — to force himself to remain jovial when he realizes that this is, somehow, even more difficult than yesterday — Satoru thinks that this might have been the most costly of all options.

See? he might say. This isn't so bad, is it?

But that's a lie, and Satoru has promised to be honest.

So instead he asks:]

Think that's long enough?

[And, with a mixture of reluctance and regret, begins to let go.]

[ascends]

[this mistake—because that's precisely what this is—would be so much easier to deal with, were suguru's hand to stop short of satoru's. better to be reminded of the space between them than to think, even for a moment, that satoru remains within reach—but for the second time in this second life, suguru encounters no resistance whatsoever.

satoru simply allows suguru in.

except there's nothing simple about this, because far be it from satoru to practice restraint; he takes what is offered and, unsurprisingly, demands more, fitting his fingers between suguru's as though they belong there. satoru, continuing to pick, and to pick, and to pick. suguru wonders if he's even aware of it? wonders what he's after if he is. surely there is some reason for this, beyond satoru's exhaustion, satoru's bad habits...

...and there is. of course there is. this is satoru slipping back into what was, every bit as easily as suguru—and as suguru shifts his focus to satoru's half-hidden face, suguru suspects that he, too, realizes the cost of such a thing. nothing is as it was; nothing can be as it was, which is why it's little wonder satoru loosens his hold, obviously preparing to pull away.

before suguru can think better of it, he finds himself folding his fingers, tightly, over the back of satoru's hand. locking it in place; refusing to allow satoru to escape the fact that everything is too much, too soon, though suguru's expression remains calm. he isn't thinking about the hand he's continuing to hold. he can't. it's too familiar a feeling, too comfortable when it should be anything but.]

Do you?

[a question for a question, because is this long enough? both to complete suguru's directive, and to satisfy satoru's curiosity.]

[mugen]

[This is a direct consequence of Satoru's own actions — a means by which Suguru is proving to him that he's gone too far — but it feels cruel nonetheless, that Suguru would tighten his grip and prevent him from pulling away to make a point. To force Satoru to face what he has been attempting to avoid with his antics — to use the joining of their hands as yet another example of how much is different between them, marring what once would have been a comfortable grip by rendering it into something painful.

When faced with uncomfortable or heavy situations, Satoru relies on his antics to carry himself — and those around him — back to a state of normalcy. But there was a time when he showed Suguru his true self: when he admitted to feeling nothing, in the aftermath of trauma; when he admitted to being tired, after overexerting himself; when he was the one clutching Suguru's hand tightly, preventing him from leaving so he wouldn't be alone.

This is an inverse of what once was, twisted to make a point, and Satoru knows that it's his own fault — for swooping into Suguru's camp as though the binding vow isn't still fresh and painful for them both, and for grasping Suguru's hand as though he hadn't once taken his life. But this is only the beginning; they'll have to work together on this train, through a variety of objectives. Suguru will have to accept him in his camp so he can rest safely. And Satoru has two choices: either be unrelentingly himself, or dwell in how difficult it feels to look upon Suguru as an unwilling ally — and an enemy waiting to strike at the end.

And what can Satoru do here, other than smile and tighten his grip once again, embracing the prolonged hold as if it doesn't go right for his chest, a blow that reaches its mark. He takes everything in stride, even when he doesn't want to, and Suguru can't be the exception he once was.]

Yeah, I think this should do it. [There was no time limit on the directive, and his curiosity has been more than satisfied; in fact, his interest in the survey's prize is gone.] But we can wait a minute more to be sure.

[He looks away from their hands — and away from Suguru — and offers a shred of honesty, in accordance of their agreement.]

One night'll be enough.

[Enough to get him back on his feet, in fighting shape, recovered for at least a few days of the distance that Suguru has demonstrated they need. Satoru will eat his dinner, sleep in his bed, and then go off until he needs to recharge again. His statement is meant to communicate that: he may be milking this now, tackling it as he does all things, invading Suguru's peace and pretending that everything is fine, but it is out of necessity, a way of coping with a situation that is difficult for them both. And he won't prolong it for either of them.

A light squeeze of Suguru's hand then — which could be read as a tease, or a means of pushing boundaries even further, but it is meant as another form of honesty: an acknowledgement. An apology. A way of saying: I get it.

Then he severs their hands with his Infinity — and lets Suguru go.]