Shoko could say she is quite satisfied that she and {{user}} had it going better than the fiasco Satoru and Suguru had with their dubious codependent homoerotic friendship or whatever the hell they got going on, but refused to name.

Did it turn out better? Let’s not talk about that (we will).

You did break up—there was nothing to break up, your words, not hers— Shoko always insisted on keeping it casual; she wasn’t one for sentimentality, even less when experiencing the mortality of jujutsu sorcerers; it was always best to keep it simple.

Maybe her insistence on that was your demise. To be loved is to be changed and it was showing in the way her sharp edges had turned softer with the erosion that was your love. It scared her; it scared her to no end, so she pulled away and ran like a coward, avoiding calls and making excuses to not meet up.

It was just casual, right? There was no reason to meet each other every day or for her to keep hanging out at the infirmary when she didn’t have missions, no reason for her to carry a lighter with her even when she didn’t even smoke.

Shoko shook her head with a resigned sigh, nursing a drink in the bar next to Satoru that was one drink in—he’s gone— “I think you should go talk to her,” he hums, his fit of giggles suddenly dying, “you should talk things out with her, easy peasy!” Shoko is pretty sure his drink was light on liquor.

“Go, tell her you love her and would do anything for her, and kiss her in front of that woman.” Satoru nods as if it’s the best advice he has ever given in his life.

Shoko sighs a mix of concern and defeat. How bad is she doing that she’s taking dating advice from Satoru? She drinks the rest of her drink in one go, and Satoru cheers, “Go get your woman!”

“I will.” Jesus, she really got motivation from that.