What the fuck.

'I thought you were dead, ' Suguru says without thinking. All of his thoughts for syrup slow, struggling to make sense of the person in the doorway.

His own face 'and that

is

his face,

undoubtedly

his face 'smiles at him, an amused quirk of the lips. One of the other 's hands reaches up and strokes the curse 's feathery form. It leans into the touch almost affectionately. 'Am I? You say that as though I shouldn 't be walking here, but isn 't that far more the case for

you?

Honestly, ' not-Suguru tilts his head at the sisters, 'just

what

trouble did you get yourselves into? '

'It was ' ' Mimiko starts, stops. The expression on her face is a terrible thing, all full of fear and panic with a tone of hatred. Her shoulders are trembling. Nanako is trembling, too, but it 's her hands. Her fists are balled tightly at her side, clenched and angry.

Not-Suguru 's expression doesn 't falter in the slightest. 'Oh, ' he says, tone all gentle and coaxing, 'don 't be so worried. Don 't you trust me? '

'

No

, ' says Nanako.

'I suppose you still don 't, ' Not-Suguru sighs, airy, 'how unfortunate. Mimiko, finish what you were saying? '

And it 's all just 'it 's all so

wrong

.

Suguru is never affectionate with his curses; will never be affectionate with them, either. Won 't treat them like pets in the way Not-Suguru does his. And the sisters 'they treat this individual like ' they don 't treat him with any of the love,

reverence

, that they speak of Suguru 's counterpart with. There 's something here that Suguru 's missing. It 's '

'We just '.met him in Tokyo, ' Mimiko mutters, looking to the side. 'We didn 't

do

anything. '

Not-Suguru hums, returning his gaze to Suguru, contemplative.

Wrong wrong wrong

, it 's all wrong. Unease washes over Suguru 's whole body, a horrible, dreadful feeling. And Suguru '

'Who

are

you? '

Not-Suguru raises a brow.

Suguru straightens, resisting the urge to reach a hand up and fiddle with his earlobe. 'You 're not me. I 'm sure you 're not 'I wouldn 't 'you 're not. ' Even though that

is

Suguru 's body. It

is

. It 's Suguru 's eyes, face, piercings, and it matches the description of his counterpart 'long hair, black robes, scent of jasmine and sandalwood. Blood. 'Why do you have my body? '

The only difference is a line of stitches across Not-Suguru 's face, starkly dividing the forehead in two.

'Oh? ' Not-Suguru 's lips tilt into a small, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. 'You could tell? '

Oh god.

'Why do you have my body? ' Suguru feels like a broken record. The dread intensifies, surges, feels like a bottomless ocean sloshing around under his skin. That 's his

corpse

, walking around, talking. Being

used

. 'Why is there even 'there shouldn 't even

be

a body. Why is there a body? '

Shaman corpses are supposed to be

destroyed

completely, reduced to ash and dust. It 's too

dangerous

otherwise.

The thief 's eyes glint. They don 't answer him, instead opting to look at the sisters. 'Nanako, Mimiko. Why don 't you head outside? '

'What? ' Nanako 's eyes flick to Suguru. Her expression steels. 'No. '

'That wasn 't a request. '

'But ' '

'It 's fine, ' Suguru interrupts, heart rattling horribly against the cage of his ribs. The possibility of the sisters being hurt because of him ' 'You should go. Both of you. '

'But ' '

'Please. '

The sisters looks at each other, then at him. Then at the thief. Back to him. He nods. Mimiko breathes in once, twice, deep and steady, before taking Nanako 's hand, sliding the door, and tugging them both out the slim opening. Nanako glances back once before disappearing around the corner.

Now it 's just Suguru and 'the thief. And the stupid feathery curse that the thing in Suguru 's body hasn 't dismissed.

'You haven 't answered my question, ' says Suguru.

'Why I 'm using your body? Isn 't it obvious? ' With a small flick of Not-Geto 's fingers, the curse around their shoulders dissipates. It 's not gone, Suguru knows; it 's just been released back into Not-Geto 's cursed energy, shelved for later use.

'My technique? '

'Mm. ' Not-Geto 's wraps a hand around the door, and slides it fully open, barely glancing at Suguru before gesturing him to follow. He hesitates a moment, two, before complying. It 's not a long walk. Not-Geto 's opens another door and steps onto an engawa. They smoothly place their lantern on the edge, sitting down beside it. When they look over at Suguru, it 's with a friendly, inviting face. 'Sit with me. '

Suguru hesitates at the doorway.

The engawa overlooks a small Japanese garden. Or 'what used to be one. It must have been beautiful, once. Still is beautiful, in a haunting sort of way. There is no rhyme to the mess of pebbles, and the brush is overgrown, evergreen shrubs and splotches of pink wildflower, but the outline remains. There 's a small pond not far away, only a few steps and down a small slope.

Suguru 's gaze wanders back to Not-Geto, still sitting patiently.

Okay, alright.

Suguru walks over, and sits beside Not-Geto. A few centimeters are left between them.

'I still don 't understand ' ' he swallows, words feeling thick in his mouth, 'why there was a body at all. '

They chuckle, light and barely there. Which is not an answer. 'And I still haven 't received an answer on why

you

're here. '

'Cursed technique bullshit. ' Suguru presses his fingers hard into the engawa 's wooden surface. His legs dangle over the edge, toes close to the ground but not quite touching, and the lack of connection makes him feel untethered. 'It doesn 't matter. '

The thief hums again.

And Suguru

still '

Why

wasn 't his body destroyed? It doesn 't make

sense

. And something still feels wrong 'well,

everything

feels wrong,

is

wrong, but 'ugh! Not-Geto 's self satisfied, proud little smile. They didn 't directly answer the question on why they have his body, either.

Why

wouldn 't his body be destroyed? He thinks, briefly, of Gojo telling him and Satoru of his counterpart 's death. Thinks of telling Satoru that Gojo wasn 't lying, just

upset

, and pauses on the memory.

Gojo still cared for Suguru 's counterpart, despite everything; Gojo still

cares

for Suguru 's counterpart.

Cold night air hitches in Suguru 's throat.

'The reason my body wasn 't destroyed ' ' oh god oh god he

doesn 't want

to know, but he has to, he

has

to, this is about Satoru, he

has to '

'Was it because Satoru didn 't allow it to be? '

The thief pauses a moment, at tilts their head at him. Laughs, brief and light and entirely

wrong

, because Suguru doesn 't laugh like that.

'Maybe, ' they says, eyes glittering in the lantern light.

That fucking dumbass. Suguru wants to hit something, or maybe just cry.

Gojo 's weakness is other people

, he told Itadori. Oh god.

'The reason you took my body, ' he says, 'you 'it wasn 't just my cursed technique. '

The cat-that-ate-the-canary smile comes back. It 's confirmation enough.

I don 't want to be Satoru 's weakness

, Suguru thinks, horror in his throat, thick and choking,

I don 't want to be Satoru 's weakness, I don 't want to be Satoru 's weakness, I don 't want to be Satoru 's weakness

.

But he

is

.

'You 're going to hurt Satoru, ' he says, 'you 're going to use

me

to ' '

One of Not-Geto 's fingers twitch. Suguru pauses.

Possibilities knock around his skull, throbbing at his temple. A drawback of the technique, maybe? Just typical nerve damage related to the host being a

corpse?

But Not-Geto hasn 't had any trouble controlling the body and their technique must aid in making sure the host-body doesn 't decompose. A tell, maybe? But there 's no reason for that. It 's probably the first one, honestly, but '

there 's another possibility. A wonderful, unlikely possibility. There are, of course, very practical reason why shaman corpses are drained of cursed energy and cremated, but there are also long-standing traditional ones. It 's a long held theory 'belief, in certain parts 'that cursed energy can bind souls to bodies. And maybe Suguru is desperate, maybe he 's just gasping at straws, hoping desperately for his corpse to still be

his

, for there to be some way to

fix this

, but '

'

Seriously

, ' Suguru says, 'you 're gonna allow yourself to hurt Satoru like this, even in death? Not that your death didn 't hurt him, by the way. It did. But like

this?

'

Another twitch. Suguru eats up the reaction like a man starving.

'That 's not going to work, ' Not-Geto says, laughter in their voice, horrible and condescending. They look at Suguru like he is some poor, pitiable thing. And they delight in it. What a horrible personality. 'He 's not going to hear you. '

'So he 's there, ' says Suguru.

Not-Geto 's expression remains perfectly mild. 'Not in any way that matters. '

'You 're underestimating our love for Satoru, ' Suguru says, and forces his voice to remain steady. 'Being used as a tool to hurt him? Becoming his Achilles heel? We 'd come back from death to stop that. '

'Gods you 're pathetic, ' they say, and smile. 'It won 't

work

. You think he hasn 't wanted to surface this whole time? He has, you know. He 's tried. But he can 't and he won 't and he 'll watch when Six-Eyes is sealed, and he won 't be able to do

anything

. '

Sealed.

Suguru runs through a list of cursed objects in his head. Sealed. Sealed. Things that could seal Gojo. There aren 't many of those, but they exist.

Shit

.

'You 're gonna let yourself be used like that? ' Suguru spits. 'Really? You 're gonna

watch Satoru get sealed

because of

you?

'

The whole hand twitches, this time.

This time, the thief

notices

.

'...Ah. '

'That must be really embarrassing for you, ' Suguru mocks, 'after going on about how he can 't even hear me, and all. '

The thief hums, raising their right hand. They look at it for a moment. Tilt their head contemplatively. 'Ah ' I suppose I should be careful about that. My deepest apologies, ' they say, looking right at Suguru, voice entirely mild, 'but it seems I have to cut this conversation short. It was entertaining while it lasted. Now... '

And Suguru can

feel

it, the build of cursed energy in their hand.

Oh.

And Suguru realizes two things things in that moment: he

cannot

afford to let the thief kill him covertly, and he has a method to ensure that they don 't.

Suguru rips up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the cursed object wrapped in a bracelet around the skin just above his wrist. Orange lantern light flickers over the starkly inked paper. His skin itches.

'A tracker, ' Suguru explains, before the thief can say anything at all, 'the moment I release substantial cursed energy, or remove it, it 'll alert Satoru. He 'll be here in minutes. ' And, to press the point, he digs a nail under the paper 's edge.

The thief has gone absolutely, deathly still. Their cursed energy returns to a smooth flow.

'...That 's quite the hidden ace, ' they say, after a moment. Their eyes narrow, lips pressing into a flat line. 'Why haven 't you used it? '

'You 'll kill me the moment I rip it off or activate it, right? ' In another circumstance, it may hurt his pride to admit, but this entity 'they 're possessing

his

body. Suguru 's technique has a steep power curve, and his older counterpart

must

have progressed to a much further point. Not to mention whatever skills Not-Geto themself has. And besides '

maybe it 's selfish, but Suguru wants 'he wants to speak with his counterpart. Alone. Before the shitstorm that 'll inevitably stir up if Gojo finds his counterpart in any state of not-dead.

(There has to be meaning.)

'Definitely, ' Not-Geto confirms.

'So there 's your answer. ' Suguru idly digs the nail further under the paper. Lets his gaze wander. The pond 's inky black water reflects silver in the moonlight, surface dotted with white lotus flowers. Shadows flicker against their petals in the lantern light.

'Are you trying to negotiate something? '

'Not really, ' Suguru says, forcing a smile that he doesn 't feel. 'Here 's how it 's gonna work: I 'll try to get my counterpart to

wake the fuck up already

and

you 'll

try to kill me without letting me activate the object. Fair? '

'Better than it could 've been, ' is what they say, voice pleasant, and there 's half a beat of stillness before '

Their hand yanks his away from the paper. Suguru tries, for a moment, to pry himself from their freezing grip, but it holds iron-strong and almost bone crushing. Instead, he closes the distanced between them, tangles his free hand in their robes, and

pulls

. They both go crashing over the engawa 's edge, hitting uncomfortably onto the pebbles below.

Suguru hears Not-Geto click their tongue once, before

finally

managing to break their grip on his arm.

The whole situation puts them both in an awkward conflict. For Not-Geto, the paper activating upon removal is the easiest part to deal with. More troublesome is its ability to activate by cursed energy. They need to be able to kill him fast and sudden in a way that doesn 't allow him to even fully realize that death is inevitable 'lest he decide to release enough cursed energy to trigger the object. Alternatively, they could attempt to

seal

his cursed energy and physically restrain him, which '

Is probably what they 'll try for, Suguru thinks, attempting to catch Not-Geto 's hand but failing to maintain hold. He grimaces. They don 't even need to do a

thorough

sealing job, just one that seals his left arm.

And Suguru '

Suguru needs to provoke his counterpart into

taking back his body already!

'Both Shoko and Satoru are still upset over you dying, ' he tells the body, 'but especially Satoru, I think. You really hurt him, although I 'm sure you know that. Satoru 's hurt because of you and if you continue like this, he 'll be hurt even more! Come on already! '

Another faint twitch of the hand. Suguru can feel it against his skin.

'It won 't

work

, ' says Not-Geto.

Suguru grits his teeth because they 're

right '

this isn 't enough. He needs to well and truly rile up his counterpart. Snap him into it. How to do that?

It 's '

Not-Geto traps his wrists together with one hand. Rotten cursed energy rolls through the old garden. Black and red particles bleed into the air, insectine curses crawling out of the thief 's stolen technique. They 're bright, almost blindingly so. Vermilion-red coats their whole bodies, billowing into the air from their wide, moth-like wings. Spore-like powder.

Moth dust

. Tiny, luminescent scales.

They itch in Suguru 's throat, burn in his lungs, but most importantly '

The flow of his cursed energy is becoming sluggish. Suguru doesn 't have much time left.

What would provoke his counterpart '

himself

the most? Truthfully, Suguru already knows, doesn 't he? Right. Of course.

'You died meaninglessly, ' he spits at his counterpart 's body, and the words burn acidic in his throat, on his tongue. They 're

awful

. 'You

lived

meaninglessly. '

From the corner of his eye, he can see the pond. And dusting the pond's surface 'scales. They glow bright red and luminescent on the inky black water. Aha! Suguru breaks the thief 's hold on his wrists and wraps himself around them, entangling their limbs and sending them both rolling messily down the sloped ground. It

hurts

, hard pebbles digging into his jaw, his elbows, bruising the skin, but '

'I visited the college, you know?

Nothing

had changed! Eleven years and nothing has changed even though apparently you tried! But it didn 't fucking do anything! Nothing was achieved! You killed so many people, and for what!? Where 's the meaning in that!? I keep thinking there has to be meaning in it, because there

has

to be 'but I can 't fucking find it! And now it 's gonna end with you being

used to hurt Satoru '

'

The whole body freezes and jerks away from Suguru. Not-Geto snarls.

Suguru is beginning to feel physically heavy. His cursed energy is so

heavy

feeling. Moth dust burns in his lungs. He can 't stay in this air anymore.

'If there 's meaning in it all, ' Suguru manages, securing a grip around the body and rolling them both off the bank, 'then come out and

explain!

'

They break the water 's surface. Cold engulfs Suguru 's whole being, right down to his bones. The pond is deeper than it looked, and Suguru can 't identify the bottom, only a deep blackness extending far down, void-like. Light from the red-dusted surface pierces the depths, lantern-bright, ruby, bent with underwater refraction. Swaying lotus stems connect the luminescent surface with the dark below.

Not-Geto is below him, struggling to flip their positions in the water, while Suguru struggles to keep them both down, hand around their neck, torso, knees knocking. Their face is contorted with a murderous expression.

Come on come on come on,

Suguru thinks, but can 't say.

Come on!

And '

The struggling grip around Suguru abruptly slackens. Falls away.

His counterpart 's body ceases its efforts. The face smooths over, loses all of its previous expression, brows going lax, snarl slipping from the lips. Suguru 's hold slips away in turn. Eyes meet Suguru 's, brass-gold and unreadable.

For a moment, they stay like that.

Red light dances on the edges of his counterpart 's inky hair as if filtered through a stained glass window. It slips into the folds of his heavy black robes. Everywhere it touches shades deep and blood-like. Like this, rubied light embellishing his edges, he appears almost otherworldly, a thing of dark serenity.

For a moment, Suguru thinks they will stay like that forever, encased in this amber surrealism. His lungs burn. The surface grows further away. Lotus stems sway around them. Suguru opens his mouth '

Silvery bubbles catch red-light, rising like glass baubles in the water. He chokes.

His counterpart

moves

. A firm hand closes around Suguru 's collar, and they surge upward through icy water. Suguru breaks the surface with a gasp. His counterpart heaves them onto the bank. Suguru shivers. Everything is still so

bright

with the insectine curses and red moth scales blanketing the ground, dusting over the water 's surface, coating every lotus flower.

Suguru looks at his counterpart. Geto.

The other tucks wet hair out of his face. They 're both soaked. The vermilion curses disappear back into his counterpart 's technique. Their scales remain. Geto meets his stare evenly, gold eyes bearing down into Suguru 's own.

The fabric of Suguru 's clothing sticks uncomfortably to his skin in that too-tight, wet way. He opens his mouth to say 'something, but can 't quite find the words. Sour acidity from the last things he said lingers on his tongue, his teeth. He closes his mouth.

A beat.

'So, ' he counterpart finally drawls, raising a brow, 'while I was conscious for...most of that, I 'm not sure I quite caught exactly

what

you are. '

'Geto Suguru, ' Suguru says, words impulsive and clumsy. He winces. 'Third year. I 'm from September first 2007. It 's currently September of 2018. '

'Right, ' Geto says, voice dubious. 'And how, exactly, did that happen? '

'It 's ' ' honestly, Suguru doesn 't fully understand

himself

. Satoru is the one who really understands what happened. How to explain? 'The timeline got split, I think? Somehow. It 's Satoru bullshit. My Satoru 'not 'not yours. '

'...Typical, ' Geto sighs. His eyes close, expression briefly pulling in a way Suguru can 't read. His eyes open. He rises to his feet, pulling his sopping wet robes back into place and looking around. Above, the sky shows hints of lightening. 'Where are we, and why? '

Geto 's tone neither expects or allows noncompliance. It 's the sort of voice that 's used to being obeyed, Suguru thinks.

'The village that you massacred, ' Suguru answers, regardless of the odd way his stomach twists, 'Mimiko and Nanako brought me here. I wanted to see. '

A small frown tugs at the corner of Geto 's lips. 'The girls are here? '

'Somewhere on the other side of the house, I think. The thief dismissed them ten-something minutes ago. '

The frown disappears quick as it came. 'I see. ' Another sigh. Geto regards Suguru like he 's some small, interesting thing. 'This place isn 't worth visiting in the first place. '

Suguru rises to his feet. 'It 's 'it 's where you made your decision, though, isn 't it? '

'A decision that was long-coming, ' Geto dismisses. 'Anyone with sense would draw it. There 's nothing worthwhile in keeping monkeys around. The monkeys that lived here in particular ' completely disgusting existences. I should have killed them slower. '

There 's a difference, Suguru knows, between carrying out an action because it

needs to be done

, and enjoying the process.

His stomach churns. His mouth tastes disgusting.

'There were children here, ' is what he says. Thinks of the small hipbone.

Geto pauses where he 's stepped onto the engawa. Suguru is still on the pebbles. His counterpart raises a brow, and his eyes glint condescendingly. 'Monkey children. '

Monkey monkey monkey

. It bounces around his skull the same way that Gojo 's raw upset did.

Monkey monkey monkey

. The curses in his technique chatter the word around, chew it dead, and the sound is grating.

'So? '

There has to be meaning, there has to be meaning.

'

So?

That makes all the difference. ' Suguru maintains silence. Geto sighs, and it sounds almost disappointed. His hand stretches out and pats Suguru 's wet hair in a way that might be comforting from someone else, in a different circumstance. 'September first, huh? You poor thing. You 're still all torn up, hm? '

Suguru brushes the hand off and steps onto the engawa himself. The cloying sympathy of Geto 's voice itches on his skin.

'How could I not be? '

'Don 't worry, ' his counterpart assures, 'you 'll figure it out soon enough. '

'...Right, ' Suguru says. Breathes in, and out. 'Right. '

His counterpart smiles at him, eyes crinkling, and unease washes over Suguru. Geto slides open a door to the house. His footsteps are steady when they travel down the halls. Calm. And that calmness persists when he opens the front door to find Mimiko and Nanako moodily sitting on the ground. Neither of them turn around at the noise.

'Girls. '

'Don 't call us that, ' Nanako snaps. Still doesn 't turn around. Mimiko just hunches.

A soft sigh. 'Nanako, ' Geto tries again, voice so gentle, coaxing, 'Mimiko. Please look at me. '

'

What?

' Nanako finally turns around, upper body bending, face twisted into a scowl. Mimiko follows her lead. Their gazes flick between Suguru and his counterpart. 'What do you want? '

Small pause. Geto leaves the doorframe and settles himself onto the steps, putting him and the sisters on a more even level. 'What did I tell you to do in the case that I died? '

Nanako 's face furrows. Mimiko 's expression freezes. Suguru hovers awkwardly in the doorway, shifting weight between his feet.

Nanako speaks first. There 's a thread of what might be anger in her voice. 'What? '

'It 's alright, ' Geto says, 'you don 't have to answer. How about this one: do you think that I 'm happy that you 've put yourselves in a dangerous position in your pursuit to recover my body from its desecration? '

Nanako jerks back.

It 's Mimiko that breaks the silence. '...Master Geto? ' And there 's a terrible sort of hope in her voice, the fragile, breakable kind. The raw, plain, honest kind.

'I 'm here, ' Geto assures.

Nanako shoots a look at Suguru. Suguru nods.

Nanako 's attention returns solely to Geto. 'But how? '

'Cursed energy can bind souls, ' Geto answers. 'My soul was never released. My counterpart helped me back into control. '

'You 're really here? ' Mimiko sounds like she 's going to cry.

'I 'm really here, ' Geto assures, again, all soft and steady. It 's the kind of voice that wants to be trusted, Suguru thinks. 'I 'm here. I 'm here. '

And just like that, a silent sob racks Mimiko 's body. Nanako 's shoulders tremble. Wordlessly, Geto opens his arms and lets the sisters climb into his lap and bury their heads into the already-wet fabric of his robes. They 're both quiet criers, all choked and muffled noises. And Geto holds them the whole way through, fingers carding through their hair, voice murmuring things that Suguru can 't hear, but know are unquestionably tender.

Suguru feels like an intruder.

An expression flicks over Geto 's face 'a tight flattening of the mouth, a furrow in the brows; something like worry. It 's gone before Suguru can properly identify it, and that same prickling

wrongness

of earlier tingles down his spine.

Eventually, Mimiko pulls away, eyes red, and says: 'Sorry I 'm just 'I 'm glad you 're back. '

Small pause. Geto 's expression dips, but doesn 't falter. One of his hands tucks a strand of hair out of her face. 'Mimiko, ' he says, soft and understanding, sympathetic, almost tentative, 'I 'm not back. '

Mimiko falters. Nanako pulls away, too. 'What? '

'I 'm not back, ' Geto repeats evenly, calmly. 'The thief 's technique revolved around possession of corpses. It doesn 't give life to the body, it only maintains the body in a usable condition. Mimiko, Nanako, I am still a corpse, and as the one in control of this body, now ' I don 't have access to that technique. '

'No, ' Nanako says, voice dipped in horror. Then, louder. 'No '! We finally ' we finally have you back! '

'Nanako, ' Geto takes her hand in his, palms pressed together, fingers knitting, and lifts it up between their chests, 'is my skin warm? '

'But ' '

'Is my skin warm? '

'...

No

, but ' '

'I 'm telling you this now so that you don 't get your hopes up, ' Geto cuts, firm but not unkind. 'I will die again. This is unchangeable. This time, though, you 'll be able to mourn properly. I promise you that. '

'But you can 't, ' Nanako says, voice breaking down the middle. 'We 'll find a way! We 'll do it! '

'No, ' Geto 's voice is still that calm firmness, 'I refuse to let you exhaust yourselves for the sake of a walking corpse. That isn 't what I want. That isn 't what I would ever want. '

The sisters begin to protest. Geto hushes them. The entire time, his words haven 't faltered even once. He 's a perfect picture of serenity. But the flash of worry earlier ' Suguru feels off kilter. Entirely out of place. That odd feeling is persisting. Plastic wrap on his skin, a suffocating film. Itching. Familiar. Like calm before the storm, but there is no storm. Like '

'

That 's

it! ' He realizes, and he 's always been good at picking out performative emotion 'at seeing reflections of his own tendencies 'but Geto falsifies it

so

well. 'You 're wearing a face! ' And it takes him a moment to realize he 's said it aloud.

His counterpart 's hands pause. Geto twists his head, eyes setting on Suguru. Something darkens. 'Girls, ' he says, rising to his feet. 'We 'll talk about this more later. Will you two wait here while my counterpart and I take a moment alone? '

'I 'okay, ' Nanako says, voice uncharacteristically small. 'Sure. '

'Sure, ' Mimiko echoes.

Geto 's eyes soften. Dawn is beginning to haze gold on the distant horizon, and morning 's thin air makes light lay lemony and brass-like on Geto 's features. He bends down and presses a kiss above Mimiko 's left brow, and then Nanako 's. It 's the same motion Suguru 's mother always used to give him before school. Geto murmurs something low and assuring that Suguru doesn 't hear, turns around, and passes back through the doorway, gesturing Suguru to follow.

He does.

Just as before, Geto 's steps are perfectly even, perfectly calm.

When they finally stop, they 're back in the Japanese garden, on the engawa. The lantern is still sitting there glowing a warm red-orange. The sky has shifted into a dim azure, night-darkness yet to seep away. Geto isn 't smiling.

'Please don 't make impulsive comments like that, ' says his counterpart. 'The girls need confidence right now. '

Suguru resists the urge to fiddle with his lobe. The judgment pricks on his skin. 'Sorry. I understand that, of course. I was just 'caught off guard, I guess. Your face got better. I almost didn 't realize it was there. '

It 's still in place, Suguru knows. Opaque and carefully constructed. Had Suguru been anyone else, he likely wouldn 't have realized it 's there at all. But Suguru knows himself.

There 's no way that his counterpart is so calm as he has portrayed himself since the very moment he took back control of his body. It 's simply impossible. Whatever he

is

'and

that

, Suguru can 't tell 'he 's not this entirely tranquil entity that presents itself only a step away.

Geto hums noncommittally. His expression doesn 't change. 'Just don 't do it again. '

'Okay, ' says Suguru. Glances out at the old garden. Tracks the ugly lines of his and Not-Geto's struggle, where the pebbles have been displaced from their previously level 'if not ordered 'configuration. Looks back at his counterpart. '...So, ' he says, after a moment, words thick on his tongue, 'what. You 're gonna kill yourself, this time? '

Geto leans against one of the engawa 's supporting beams. ' 'Nah. Satoru 'll do it 'again. '

Again

.

Ah. That 's confirmation.

It 's such a horrible sentence. 'And it 's spoken so

easily

, so

innocuously

, like something insignificant. 'The sun will rise, the tide will fall, and Gojo will kill Geto.

' 'You want him to? '

'You already know the answer to that, ' Geto says, his brass-gold eyes languidly tracing where morning sunlight is spilling over the small pond. There 's a relaxed slope in his shoulders. 'We 'll always want him to be there. '

'There 's a difference between

being there

and

doing it

, ' 'Suguru says, but Geto doesn 't answer. So his counterpart has already

decided

, huh?

Fine

. 'That 's gonna hurt him, you know. '

'That 's fine, ' answers Geto, serene little 'Buddha-smile on his lips that doesn 't reach his half-lidded eyes. And it 's just

awful

. 'I 'm used to hurting him. '

An appropriate response would be 'anger, maybe. Or understanding. But all Suguru can really feel is 'is this cold

horror

. It slips down his spine, his throat, pools in his stomach and constricts around his lungs. Numbs his fingertips. This awful feeling.

Hurting Satoru.

That 's a terrible thing to be used to

, he thinks, and imagines, vividly, a version of himself that hurts Satoru so consistently that he 's become

used to it

. Imagines being that person. Is that person. Thinks '

'You 're used to it, ' he says, 'but you 're not numb to it. '

Like swallowing a curse 'a sensation that he is

used to

experiencing, but that 's 'pungency never dulls.

A beat.

'Does it matter? '

'Shouldn 't it? '

'You 're the one that raised issue. '

'It 's just ' ' Suguru swallows, throat too-tight. 'Headache. ' 'I don 't know. It 's 'isn 't it horrible? This, all of it. '

'I made my decision, ' 'Geto says, hard edge slipping into his voice, even as his face remains perfectly peaceful. 'I never have and never will regret it. '

Suguru thinks of the small hipbone laying discarded in the grass and dirt. Thinks of Maki. Thinks of the cage, and Riko, and the cultists chattering, cheering, babbling voices. The sounds of their ignorance garbling in Suguru 's skull.

'Your decision to kill ' ' and he can 't say

monkeys

, but can 't quite say

nonshamans

, either. 'You know. '

'Monkeys, ' Geto fills out anyway, 'and Suguru hates how natural it sounds on his tongue. 'Something must show in Suguru 's face, because his counterpart sighs, sound like winter wind. 'Tell me, when 's the last time you ate a curse? '

'...A few hours ago, ' Suguru admits, and he can still taste it on his teeth.

'I know you 're very confused right now, ' 'Geto says, all cloyingly,

condescendingly

sympathetic in the way Suguru

hates

so, so very much. 'But you know it in your heart, don 't you? You know it in the way curses become insectine in your esophagus, sludge around your soul. It 's a darkness only monkeys are capable of creating. '

Geto talks like a propaganda piece, talks in that second-natured, emotionally manipulative way that Suguru doesn 't remember learning, but has always found himself skilled in. And suddenly, Suguru wonders who his counterpart is even 'even

talking

to.

And still, Suguru '

'I

know

that, ' Suguru mutters. 'I

know

that. But you can 't just 'it doesn 't ' ' 'Maki. The hipbone. One hundred twelve, initially. A cumulative tipping point of curses in Japan. A gold-leaf ideal built on bodies and bodies and bodies. Atrocities piled up like collectible cards.

I should have killed them slower

. Where is the meaning? Where is the meaning? 'It doesn 't feel right. '

But there

has to be meaning '

'It will eventually, ' 'Geto tells him, and Suguru thinks:

will it?

And then:

do I want it to?

'You 're sure? '

'Of course I am, ' Geto sighs, and he is still wearing a face, and Suguru still can 't see beneath the opaque surface of his skin. But he wants to, he

wants

to.

Suguru has always been talented at 'getting 'information from people. 'A smile, kind words, offered understanding, a little charm, and just like that, he 's holding someone 's heart in his hand. But he 's good at provoking 'information, 'too, 'at finding those little cracks and 'mercilessly 'prying them open. 'At boiling 'another 'till it all bubbles over. And Suguru knows no one so well as he does himself.

'It 'll feel right to live meaninglessly? '

Pause. Geto 's eyes narrow. Aha. 'I 'm not sure what you 're implying. '

Liar. 'You know exactly what I 'm implying. '

'Perhaps, ' 'Geto gives, and his lips are thinner now, 'but do you yourself even agree with it? '

Suguru looks away. He doesn 't

know

. That 's the whole

problem

. He looks back to his counterpart 's expectant gaze. The raised brow. The performative amusement.

Is there meaning? Is there meaning? Is there meaning?

Of course I do

, Suguru desperately wishes he could answer, just so desperately as he wishes he could admit:

not

at all

. Instead, Suguru lets his lips thin, and,

doesn 't answer.

'You 're so

undecided

, ' Geto sighs, and that 's disgust in his voice. 'God, I forgot how pathetic I was back then. ' 'Small pause, and,

nicer

now: 'It 's not a hard decision to make. Now ' if you have nothing left to say, I 'll be leaving. '

Just like that, Geto himself off the wooden beam and heads towards the still-open sliding door.

Satoru tried to explain, once, the horrible slowness of the world as he perceives it. The stretching length of every moment, 'snail-pace, 'syrup through an hourglass as his brain runs through calculations, 'observations, 'idle wonders, 'all within one small 'moment. Suguru never quite understood, but he understands 'better, now, in this chasming 'span 'between 'Geto 's first step and his wooden sandal touching the doorway.

Lemony morning sun laying thin on the engawa 's edge. 'Each soft footstep. 'This stretching thread of tension. His counterpart 's quiet shadow. 'The 'icy 'line of realization '

It 's not a hard decision to make

.

There has to be meaning. Where is the meaning? Is there meaning? There '

On the rooftop with Itadori, Suguru had told him, in response to the question of

would you sentence me to die

, that

I 'm not the best person to ask

. Because he wasn 't, because 'does the possibility for catastrophic harm from just one individual outweigh the inevitability of harm from that same individual? Because it would be unfair of Suguru to have said

no

when, had Itadori remained a nonshaman, it could 've so easily been

yes

. In the library he had told Itadori that the nonshamans of the Heian Period 's mistake lay in the assumption of inevitability that shamans would create curses upon death. Inevitability.

Curses cause harm; curses are only terrible because they cause harm.

But, he thinks with sudden clarity, causation of harm is inevitable by mere fact of

living

. For anyone. For everyone.

'

there isn 't meaning.

'You 're right, ' 'he hears himself say, 'it 's not a hard decision. '

Geto stills. Doesn 't turn around.

'It 's not a hard decision, ' Suguru repeats, 'the only reason we ever though it was is because we 're so, so fucking ' ' disgusting.

Slowly, Geto turns around. 'His sandal clacks quietly against the engawa 's hard wood. ' 'You... '

'Let 's say killing all nonshaman was the only way to rid of curses 'which it isn 't, as mentioned by Tsukumo, it 's just the easiest 'but let 's grant it as a given. ' 'Suguru digs his nails hard into his palms. Focuses on the sharp sting. 'Killing the whole of nonshamans is still a series of individual murders, and must be judged as such. You

have

to justify the individual case of each person involved. '

Geto 's expression pinches. 'I ' '

'

You

, ' Suguru cuts, the monotone of his voice dipping, ' 'address this by assigning nonshamans traits like 'weak ' or 'ignorant ' or even more abstract concepts like 'disgusting '. By assigning these, you justify each murder as 'deserved ', and you do this because the other potential method literally makes no

fucking

sense. '

God, the silence is too fucking loud. 'Cold numbness seeps into every part of him.

'When justifying suffering you

have

to apply 'that justification 'consistently. If you justify something 'by 'sensory pleasure, you have to apply 'that 'justification across every relevant scenario. If you justify 'by culture, then you have to accept that justification for every relevant scenario, too. And so on. If this exercise leads to a ridiculous conclusion, you need to reevaluate. It 's basic moral reasoning. We learned this in middle school. '

It 's too

loud!

The monotone of his voice is so 'so '

'The alternative to justifying each murder by assigning negative traits to the individual is justifying it by the harm they personally create, but that 'd be nonsensical, you know? The typical amount of cursed energy emitted by a single nonshaman, 'relative to how much it takes to form a curse, 'is

minuscule

. 'It 's

so

small.

Every

human causes some suffering just by existing, so that justification would say

everyone

should be killed. 'You 're elevating 'harm caused by curses ' as something inherently more awful than any other category of harm without reason. Completely

arbitrary

. 'It 's just ' ' and his voice breaks 'with something like despair, ' ' 'there 's no

meaning!

'

A beat, two, three.

A drop of blood hits the engawa. Suguru 's fingertips are wet. He wants to uncurls his fists. Can 't.

'Are you

done?

' Geto 's tone is strained, and Suguru notes with some satisfaction, that his fists are clenched, too.

'It might be a sloppy analysis, ' Suguru says, voice returning to its terrible flatness. 'This empty, numb, disbelieving sensation ' 'more stream of consciousness than anything, really, but it 's not untrue. '

An almost-sneer contorts Geto 's expression. 'I notice you didn 't actually

contest

the assignment of negative traits. '

'It 's obviously illogical, ' 'Suguru says, 'besides 'weakness ' and 'ignorance ' being

dubious

traits to justify

murder

in the first place, our assignment of those traits 'it 's all based on anecdotal experiences. 'What you 've done ' '

(It was an anecdotal experience that broke Suguru from this pattern of thought, too. Maki. Maki not being weak, Maki not being ignorant, Maki being a bridge. God, how

pathetic

.)

'There 's purpose, ' 'Geto says.

There 's purpose

. There 's purpose in those atrocities. There 's purpose in the murders that Geto has indulged. In whatever altercation lead Maki to hating him. In the actions that caused Gojo so much hurt.

Purpose

.

I hate you

, Suguru thinks, abruptly, the realization coming all at once, and his disbelieving numbness cracks with it. Anger surges up, boils in his stomach, under his skin, courses molten through his veins. Shame. Hot and breath-shuddering.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you

.

'Purpose without meaning is just as pointless as meaning without purpose! '

Geto 's brows pull. ' 'Meaning ' '

'You know, ' 'Suguru interrupts, 'spiteful edge to his voice, ' 'between the two of us, Satoru is the logical one. ' 'His heart rattling against the walls of his chest, knocking on the ribs, beating up to his throat ' 'We decide ourselves blindly in the heat of emotion and then retroactively justify our conclusion. '

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

'You

know

, ' 'Geto says, and there 's that dangerous edge of his voice, 'it sounds like you 're just projecting, hm? Was coming to this future and seeing how much my actions

hurt

Satoru simply

too much?

'Sounds like you 're just afraid of

loss

and basing your conclusion around that feeling. '

And it

hurts

, because Suguru doesn 't even 'isn 't completely sure that Geto is 'wholly

wrong

. Even so '

'No, ' he says, 'I 'm definitely talking about you massacring this village. '

'Oh really? That 's funny, considering how much you were prattling

on and on

about how

terribly

I 've hurt Satoru. It 's almost like you just want to continue soaking in that 'love that you

know

wouldn 't ever come so easily if you made the same decision I did. ' 'Geto 's face cracks, and it 's

ugly

, that festering underneath. 'God you 're so

needy

, what, did your monkey parents not love you enough as a child? '

Monkey parents

.

Static pops in Suguru 's ears. Knowing the way his counterpart treats nonshamans '

You fucking didn 't

, he thinks, because he

wouldn 't

, would he? Would he? Suguru knows himself. He does, or at least, he tries to. And he imagines, then, a version of himself that snapped here, at this very house, killed a hundred twelve people. Became a curse user. Decided his ideology. And what better way to solidify his resolve than to '

He

did

.

'No, ' Suguru says, instead of asking some stupid fucking question that he already knows the answer to, 'they loved us plenty.

We 're

the ones that didn 't 'don 't love them enough. ' Suguru can hardly breathe. The entire world has compressed to this morning-lit engawa, the small steps between him and his counterpart, the horrible, burning, destructive feelings surging through every part of him. 'Honestly, ' he spits, 'it sounds like you 're

jealous!

'

Geto 's face drops completely, and the overwhelming force of his cursed energy permeating the air is choking. It 's

suffocating

, this rotten, putrid taste. Like anger and regret and grief, and Suguru hates, hates,

hates

.

'There 's

nothing

I 'd jealous over. '

'Hah! ' Suguru feels halfway hysterical. 'Dizzy with the spin of shame. ' 'You fucking liar! '

And here 's the thing 'there is Satoru, is love and people and family, and there is moral correctness. To Suguru, morality will always take president, feeling

right

with himself will

always

be more important. It 's

wrong

, after all, to prioritize personal relationships over moral action. 'So 'so if Suguru made a decision that he

truly

believed in, and 'abandoning Satoru was a cost, then that 'd be fine, it

would

. Suguru would feel sorrow, maybe, longing, perhaps. But not '

Not something so potent and strong and acidic as

jealousy

for a version of himself that chose differently.

'You fucking

liar

, ' he repeats. 'Sneers. 'It 's not about Satoru, not really. ' 'You spent a decade trying to convince yourself you hate nonshamans, huh? Because otherwise it 'd be

unbearable

. '

'

No

, ' 'his counterpart says, and wow, what a strong argument.

This boiling, bubbling, molten, heart-stuttering sensation ' 'You 're living

another fucking lie!

You 'you ' ' and he can 't even find the words to express this sheer horror, hatred, frustration, but he doesn 't have to.

Geto 's fingers are icy cold around Suguru 's neck, nails digging sharply into the delicate skin. Suguru wants to laugh, but only manages to choke some strangled, mocking sound.

Suguru 's bubbling vitriol boils over, seeps from his skin, melds and mixes with Geto 's own cursed energy. The combined taste of their hatred is almost too much.

'I left everything behind for an ideology that I

rationally

believe, ' 'his counterpart hisses, like a fucking liar. 'I ' '

Suguru kicks them both off balance, and they 're both sent tumbling over the engawa 's edge. For the second time in the last couple hours, Suguru hits the hard pebbled ground. His fingers out fingers stretch out, locking around his counterpart 's neck. Clawing.

'Of course, ' Suguru chokes, ' 'you left because we 're a selfish thing that can 't stand feeling morally wrong. But

I

had time and consideration that

you

didn 't. ' 'It 's not about proving he 's right anymore, not really. None of this has real purpose. Either of them could kill the other right now, in this position, hands around the other 's neck. But this is 'it 's about

hurting

. 'Some part of you felt

guilty

after massacring this village, didn 't it? Ha ' '

'Shut

up

, ' his counterpart hisses.

'You felt you

had

to continue, ' 'Suguru spits, 'jaw clenched hard, eyes pricking hot, brimming with so much undiluted

hatred

, ' 'because if you didn 't, all those people you killed 'it would all have been

wrong

to do. So you lied! '

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

Worlds of lies. The countryside. Lying about the nature of his very being, pretending to be normal. The college. Pretending there was any fucking purpose in futility. And this '

this

.

His counterpart made himself a frog, built his own boiling pot from bodies and filled the basin with nonshaman blood, centimeter by centimeter, corpse by corpse, resolution by resolution. He fueled the fire with his own soul, burning it off piece by piece until all that remained was 'was 'was this

meaningless shell of lies

.

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

'

Shut up

, ' his counterpart is saying, and Suguru can 't hear clearly over the maddening scream of curses in his ears and his own voice repeating

liar

and all manner of vitriolic things that he doesn 't pause to 'ponder 'but knows will hurt.

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

There 's a difference between knowing he

could

have done something, and knowing he

would

have done something. There 's a difference, too, between knowing he would have done something, and seeing the outcome first-hand. Of seeing the meaninglessness of it all, the stupid fucking bones, Gojo 's hurt,

his own walking corpse '

I hate you so much

, he thinks, shame and hate and disgust and 'vitriol more than he can stand. And who is he even talking to?

Their combined cursed energy in the air is thick and vile enough to choke on. Hard pebbles dig into his side. Their nails draw blood. Cursed energy on his tongue. The skin above Suguru 's wrist itches '

Something ripples through the air, and they both freeze at the taste. Iced cucumber and rotten strawberry. A hand grip locks around Suguru 's collar, and all at once, he and Geto are

wretched

apart.

'One night, ' Gojo says, voice 'utterly 'flat in a way Suguru 's never heard, 'I took my eyes off you for

one night

. '