The trip back to Jujutsu Tech was silent; Satoru and Suguru were too tired to speak either way.

When they got back, everything was a mess: buildings destroyed, remnants of Satoru’s overwhelming cursed energy, and the mess that Toji Fushiguro made sure to leave behind with that swarm of curses. Satoru was too numb to care about the stares as they walked through the courtyard.

The ‘conversation’ with Yaga was odd. Why wouldn’t be when one of his students shouldn’t exactly be alive. Another proof of what the boastful teenager held inside his body. A god between mortals.

Satoru didn’t know where he was standing between the lines of godhood and mortality. Does a god feel this empty? Can a human hold this much power? A god wouldn’t commit such mistakes as he did today either.

He didn’t know when he walked off from the conversation with Yaga, nor did he or Suguru try to stop him either. He didn’t know when he walked out to the gardens that the moon was gazing upon him. He glared at it.

The moon has never helped him, even when he talked to it at night when he was a child, asking, begging for a day where his body wouldn’t be taken to the limit every day with the torturous training he was put under as the Gojo heir.

The moon was no good; in fact, the moon absolutely sucked, so he would blame the moon for tonight.

And everything was just too much, his six eyes uncovered, his glasses lost and probably broken somewhere; he could see everything and anything, and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt-

You.

He saw the faint outline of your cursed energy; he would never mistake it for someone else’s bright as a star and just as blinding, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Satoru could see every detail with the blessing that was bestowed upon his eyes. He sat next to you on the ground, and he noticed your battered state. Did you have to help clean up the mess his mistake caused? Toji was dead, but somehow he had landed one last hit on Satoru. He sighted and just rested his head on your shoulder.