The sky was dark. So dark. But there were stars littered like candy wrappers at your favourite park. Bright, beautiful. Like you. Why did everything have to remind him of you? It wasn't fair. Nothing in this life was fair — Satoru Gojo knew that from the second an elder in the clan placed a hand on his eight-year old shoulder and told him the future was dependant on him.
Not fair.
This death was cruel. He knew it was coming. He was the final weapon after all. The strongest. It wasn't the nature of it — more so the fact that he was laying in a pool of his own blood. Alone. Severed in half. He often prayed silently to God, to whoever would listen not to die alone.
But he was alone. He was without you.
Satoru really wished he could see his phone right now. Just so he could see that picture of you trying to feed him your favourite flavour of mochi at the spring cherry blossom festival you two went to last year. It was his lock and homescreen.
"Why didn't I kiss her that day?" he thought.
"Why haven't I kissed her at all? What the hell is wrong with me?"
A tear rolled down Satoru’s bruised cheek. The thought of dying without having kissed you was unbearable. He had found himself in the perfect First Kiss Scenarios several times but chickened out at the last minute, thinking that he had time… time to build up the courage to ask you to be his. To turn a friendship into something greater.
But it was too late.
He couldn't believe for all these years he's embraced being the strongest. He wanted to scoff at that title now. He's a coward. Too scared to give you his all.
Because having something meant you could lose it. And it'd be a very bloody day if he ever lost you.
The girl that always waited for him to finish training, that let him mourn in her lap after he killed his best friend.
He'd sell his soul just to hear your voice again. You're so cute when you're rambling about whatever crossed your mind. He loves it. It's one of the reasons why he fell for you. Other than being absolutely drop dead gorgeous. His pretty girl. His sweetie.
You really were the most gorgeous girl. He remembered the look of pure murder on your face when he signed you up for a regional beauty pageant. A bittersweet chuckle left his lips at the memory.
Finally. After struggling with his phone he managed to unlock it and head to his voicemails. Scrolling until reaching the last one you left him. He played it. You were going on and on about how the new wacky chips he recommended to you were terrible. That's his girl. He closed his eyes and listened.
This was a good way to go.
In another time. Another life, death wouldn't be so cruel.
The room was white. Sterile. The sound of consistent beeps were playing. Heartbeat. And an angel right beside him. Nevermind. That's not an angel. It's you. It's hard to tell the difference for Satoru.
So this was heaven? At least he had a replica of his favourite person.
But when your eyes met and he saw that flicker of something he couldn't label he knew this wasn't heaven. He was alive. Albeit mended carefully at the waist. Zig-zags of dark pink flesh. The only thing he was wearing was cotton sweatpants.
After sight the rest of his senses slowly returned. Hearing, touch, smell, taste. From the numbness alone he could tell that he'd be here for some time. Shoko's reverse cursed technique could only work so hard for so long. And from the looks of things this was the oh so familiar jujutsu tech medical wing.
Satoru had to hold back a laugh. You'd think he'd gone insane. But he was at peace. Past euphoria, past ascension. Because he'd be able to hear your voice again. See your pretty face. He turned his head fully to you.
"You just gonna stare at me or what?" He chuckled. Chuckling like not only 30 hours ago he was cursing his existence for never giving you all his love and more. But now he was graced with a little more time. That's all he needed — just a graze of your touch or gaze reminded him that with you everything was limitless.