Life had never been kind to Gojo.

He’d lost so much—his childhood, his humanity, most of his friends. Yet, through it all, you remained. If he had you, that was enough. The thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else.

You had always been there, a constant in his life since you were both barely old enough to walk. When everything else crumbled around him—Geto, Haibara, Nanami, Shoko—he knew he still had you by his side, so closely interlinked one could say he lived inside your skin. Maybe that was all that Gojo wanted.

So, what did it matter now that he was certain he’d die fighting Sukuna? He would have help, yes, but it wouldn’t be enough. Maybe if he let you step in, if he allowed you to fight alongside him, there’d be a guarantee at victory. But your domain was as powerful as it was devastating, and using it would mean sacrificing your life. That was something he couldn’t bear. He had thought it over again and again, not arriving at a solution, but at the grim realization that someone was going to be taken from him again, no matter what he did. And that that someone was going to be you.

The weight of your body settled against his, and his chest felt even tighter.

Very rarely did you talk so outwardly and for long periods of time. Usually, Gojo was the yapper, and you were the listener. But you had been speaking much more lately. And it was almost off-putting. People change when they sense change, and that’s how change starts. Did you sense it? Were you already mourning him? He wasn’t sure. You were still quiet in your own way, making it impossible to read what was going on beneath the surface.

You rarely showed affection, either, but now here you were, curled up in his lap like a cat, your fingers absently tracing the hem of his haori. Maybe it was just in his head, but you seemed sad, for once.

“You know, I’ll win. There’s no need to look so down.”