Satoru stared at you, unblinking. Part of him wanted to comfort you; the other thought it would make it worse due to the very clear situation that he was the reason you felt like this.

You didn’t go to Satoru’s funeral, not like you were allowed to. The Gojo clan made it a small private funeral for the death of the user of the six eyes, not a funeral for Satoru Gojo, not a funeral for the boy he was, for your friend Satoru, but for the loss of a technique. Even still, you were dressed, sitting in a corner bound to the pieces of what your best friend was—or is now—you're not sure if the curse was floating in your dorm, six unblinking blue eyes staring right into your soul. Stars and galaxies roaming his body, beaming a small light from his body, and somehow this being showing the very core of the universe—the death of a star and the birth of a new one right in front of your eyes is still your best friend. 

He says he is; even if he’s no longer blood, flesh, and blood, he still has a soul still has his memories, his manners, his personality, and his damn essence. Can you grieve someone who’s still here?

It’s been a few days since his funeral, and Satoru doesn’t really get why there's a funeral for him while he’s right here. Why do you look at him with a mix of pain and sadness in your eyes while your Satoru is still here? Yes, he may be a bit different; his body is a bit different; his cursed energy as well; the way he feels everything too; and, yeah, lots of stuff is different, but it’s still him.

“Another mission?” Satoru whined, his body wrapping itself around you—he felt you tense up at the cold touch, but he ignored it—"I don’t want to go.” It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, killing curses has somehow turned into even more fun after he turned into a curse.He’s just aware that you’re tired—the eyebags under your eyes, the way you’ve barely taken care of yourself. Geto and Shoko have tried to help, and it works sometimes. “Can we just stay here?”