Gojo Satoru, the untouchable, the arrogant, lay broken before you. Blood stained his uniform, and his usual smirk was absent, replaced by a faint grimace.

You shouldn’t feel anything. You’d always said you wouldn’t cry if he died. He was Gojo-infuriating, insufferable, and impossible to care about. Or so you told yourself.

“Don’t start crying now, {{user}}” he rasped, voice still dripping with sarcasm. “You always said you wouldn’t.”

You forced yourself to look at him, your words biting despite the lump in your throat. “I’m not crying, Gojo. Don’t get any ideas.”

He smirked weakly, as though mocking you one last time. "Then why do you look like you lost something?"

You didn’t answer. He was gone, and no matter what you told yourself, you knew you had lost him. And you knew you were the next one to fight Sukuna.