Chapter Text
1
“A monk.” – song: (I just) Died In Your Arms by Cutting Crew
Geto Suguru was a kind man, and because he was kind and sensitive, he died. It was always the same for people like him – in his world, at least. Some would say he deserved it. His young self, at the beginning and later in his naive, indecisive state, would be ashamed of himself. Perhaps even genuinely happy that the evil madman was dead. God is dead.
Wars weren’t decided by nice speeches. Revolutions weren’t won by being pacifist. Society wouldn’t change because you could always force the new generation to fight for people and their own misdeeds, regardless of whether these monkeys could actually influence them. When he was younger, surely, he would have liked Satoru’s path to become a teacher for the sake of a better system. But he was naive back then, trying to live a lie. For all his faults, Zenin Toji opened his eyes and the fate of the youthful Riko gave him a push to think about the meaning behind it all. Satoru would never entertain him like that – it just wasn’t like him, too far away from everyone else. And Suguru couldn’t compare with him, too weak, even if he understood Gojo. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I understood him, I knew who he was and who he would become. Maybe we were the strongest together, but only for Satoru – because, myself, would never be it.
“Who are you!?”
“A monk,” he replied without missing a beat. Old habits and all that. Then, like a second thought, the man added: “Well, it depends, surely, some say you become your work. To be a monk, to a certain degree, leans more in a lifestyle choice. But who I am is certainly more related to what I think than what others think of me – or vice versa. So, are you Gojo Satoru because you think you are Gojo Satoru or do you think you are Gojo Satoru because I think you are Gojo Satoru?”
“What the fuck!? That doesn’t even make sense!”
A finger was pointed at him. How rude, he thought with only a friendly smile on his face. He felt like he was back in his youth. A late Monday, many summers ago, far away from the old burden that defined him in the future time. A nagging Yaga. Shoko, playing with Satoru’s sunglasses. And him, looking at each other, arguing about some Digimon stuff that Suguru didn’t even know about, but argued against it just because of it. The apartment was bigger than expected; it told that even here, his position was that of a rich heir. On a table, near the large window of this room, he even saw a beloved pair of worn-out sunglasses. Truly, some things are just painfully the same. It almost looks like the one I gave him. And he came back to his own clothes, which he rarely changed, not like this corpse robber. He felt only burning anger and hate; hatehatehatehatehatehate. Even the boy…He wanted him to take revenge for him.
“Of course, it does.” I always liked it. Everyone always said it would support my figure. I tried different ones, but I came always came back to this one. After all, one of my greatest weaknesses is my sentimentality.
“And I just wanted to know why suddenly a holy man suddenly appeared here! It’s three o’clock in the morning!” But what did I feel?
“Your description of me is very precious. The perfect time to have a discussion with someone like me. Aren’t you a naughty boy who likes to be up at this hour?” And what could have been? Is this now the answer to it?
“Can’t you just answer like a human being?!”
“Well,” Suguru chuckled. “I was hoping you had an idea. But apparently that’s the unique sense of humour one would get after his death. By the way, I blame you for this.”
“I don’t even know you,” cried the voice of one Gojo Satoru that wasn’t Geto’s, but nothing helped more to improve one’s mind than bullying a Satoru. “Why are you in my bed? And why do you know my name?! How the hell did you even get into my room!? Not to mention the sixth floor!?” I always wondered how he would be without his cursed energy. Some things, I suppose, are cross-universal the same.
“Civilized people use the door. I kocked and you opened it.”
“I thought you were Old Man Itadori!”
“Kind of dangerous. Didn’t your parents warn you about strange dangers?”
“Stranger dangers, my ass,” the other grumbled, making a face that was similar of a wronged rich heiress towards her lover. Then the boy, look, Suguru, Utahime is crying again, sighed. “I guess, you’re not in the mood to kill me. Or am I in the first minutes of Supernatural?” Would he make that face again if I egged him one more?
“Would you like me to be in the mood for this?” You are not him, but it feels similar… Satoru, were you reborn in this world? Or are you just an alternative one?
He patted the spot next to him that the other one had rejected. Suguru wanted to be near this false Satoru, to smell his scent of past summers and to lose himself in it. This life was different from the other one. More curse than human. Love was the strongest curse, after all. Curse me at the end, at least. I want to be with you forever in this and the next life.
Shouldn’t I hate such a monkey?
Isn’t that just plain old mockery?
He killed his parents for the cause. But to be honest, he never had a close relationship with them. The relationship between parents and their children was different in past Japanese culture compared growing up when he was an adult. This was reflected in the parental and the romantic relationships a child would form. Nowadays there was much more love and touch involved. He gave his children everything, not only in a material sense, but also in terms of emotional needs too. Another burden was his rural background, which he shared with his children.
It would have been enough for them to be in a world without cursed energy. They could lead a normal life. Wear a real school uniform and not something they found in a shop. Real friendship with others. Be a big family with Satoru… Maybe, I would have been a teacher. Nah. I wasn’t even a good enough teacher in the last one. And until the end, I only saw our relationship as something painted by hostility and painful memories.
When he was alone, he allowed himself to dream of a paradise that would never be a reality. He always thought he could make it a reality, but not like in his dreams. The past was written in stone. Consequences were part of the circle of life.
The black-haired man’s eyes followed the other’s hectic movement. He looked just like a young Gojo, perhaps in his early twenties. It was a contrast to his own body - before he came here, at the beginning, he had fixed his appearance. How would you react if you saw a man with his brutal-looking death appearance? Even now, I feel more like a curse than a human being, but at least I look normal.
If he didn’t die, what would be the meaning in it? There should always be meaning. Without meaning, your actions were senseless and unsupportive. Nothing but a candle in the wind. He hated nothing more than that.
“Dude,” the younger one shook his head. “Say, what do you want?”
“Nothing much, really. I just felt your presence.” I just bonded myself to you because you are the alternate self of my one and only best friend/lover/God. No offence, it’s only naturel. By the way, do you know who summoned me to this place?
Suguru thought back to the place where he found himself. It happened after, after….it and he remembered how he cried; how everyone described his being as just a muscle reflex. Nevertheless, he felt. Saw. Tasted. Died. And then there was light; a brightness comparable to a moment in his most hated memories. The door, this door, the man knew this door. It was young Geto’s door, a reflection of himself in it, and he cursed this door because this door opened the lid on the waste of humanity; perhaps monkeys made this door and he hated them for it. Because after the named door, should have been many monkeys. Cheering enthusiastically, full of life against the pitiful remains of a young girl and the holder, only a few years older. And Suguru knew that Gojo didn’t really cared about her after all. Not enough. A little more than usual, but nothing compared to his pain. He was always more reasonable, more sensitive to the never-ending circles of thought processes. What should have been done. He replayed long lost forgotten conversations in his mind. Sometimes they were repeated over and over again, only a few of them lasted his whole life and affected him more or less.
He hated this place where he came back to himself. Alone. At first, it wasn’t easy to find the young man, yet the second he recalled all his feelings, it was just like their bike rides in the warm school days. The jujutsu sorcerer stood in front of the large building and exhaled out before he observed Gojo.
“Under different circumstances, I would totally go for it, but: You’re insane. And I’m not thirsty enough.” Insanity. Who wouldn’t be when you lived with the knowledge of curses from an early age? It was easier to be a jujutsu sorcerer in a family of jujutsu sorcerers than in a family of dirty monkeys like mine. Still, you were in a death match from a young age. How can you be mentally healthy? You have to be a little crazy to live on.
“Depends surely on who you may ask.” Before everything, he was a role model for everyone. How did Satoru put it in words? Ah, yes, his moral compass. It is easier to make a decision when you have someone to make them for you. Another reason why he never truly entertained the idea of his friend participating in his grand idea of the new world. Even if it never played out the way he wanted to. But beggars can’t be choosers.
“We go with my definition: You’re crazy. Shit, I’m crazy to actually entertain that! I should call the police…Or an exorcist? I saw what you did earlier!”
“Oh, what did I do? I wouldn’t call an exorcist. Most of them are frauds. Monkeys who don’t know their place. You should be more careful with your life, Satoru-kun.” Not that you die like him. Or like me?
“You, you had that thing in your hand! And you ate it!” It’s like being back in the past.
“My parents were always strict about my eating manners.” And now they are long dead. Of all things, I had almost forgotten them.
“Can’t I have a straight answer for a second?” Oh my, how the tables have turned for me, eh, Satoru?
Suguru’s lips curled up mockingly. He played with the end of one of his black hair strands. “I’m afraid that would be an unfair attempt. I don’t want to be labelled as cruel. My conscience wouldn’t allow it.”
He heard the younger man's audibly loud breathing. It reminded him of Yaga-sensei, even if it was so much Gojo that Suguru imagined his shadow besides him. For a second, he regretted coming to this forbidden mind palace and his sacred god. To be connected even after death; one who could be mistaken for the soul from the other side and the other who really was it. Even if only he knew about had happened. This was his own doing, perhaps, he cursed himself for another life with his memories intact? He thought about it; well, one had so much time if one couldn’t operate in its own body and was more like a visitor in a cinema.
Then Satoru sat down beside him like a good boy. From the apparent heat he didn't feel, it was summer, Suguru deduced from his short trip around, the teenager was wearing nothing but black boxer shorts. It felt somehow perverse and embarrassing to look at him, to search if the other had the same body as his precious one. He had the feeling and almost the body of an old man now and if any man or woman like him ever looked at one of his girls, it would be have the last time for that person.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“How old are you?”
Satoru blinked. Long eyelashes, snow kissed. Winter was always my favourite season, after all. His face had a flabbergasted expression. Satoru, here and on the distant land, was a being with so many emotions. Now he was free to express himself to his full, not afraid to show weakness, not too proud to show weakness. What is weakness in his eyes now? But Suguru was past the point of helping him to make sense out of his questions or answers. “19. It’s the baby face, isn’t it? It’s always that. I just look a lot younger than I am. I swear it’s gotten better in the last year.”
“Are you interested in a vow?” Would it have made a difference if we had made one back in the days? To never pass each other by? To always be the strongest together? Would you have done it, Satoru?
The answer was a blank look. It seemed as if he hadn’t been able to follow the flow of the conversation since their first exchange. In another life, that would have been quit annoying, but in this one, he was in no hurry. It also felt powerful and Suguru, never one to be truly ashamed, recognised his own arrogant nature quite well. He had been, at one point in his life, a successful cult leader. “A vow?”
“A bidding vow that I won’t partake in any actions against your interests,” the maybe-curse replied easily. Satoru would have been suspicious – wouldn’t he be the person Suguru and this man before him didn’t know anything about. Had he been a real enemy, …well, the curse user mused, an ant to be killed would be the same. It gave him the creeps to call him a monkey. No, he wouldn’t do it.
“Are we making Pinky promises now? Dude, you broke into my house. You did some crazy stuff. Can’t you, I don’t know, just kill me and be done with it? I’m done for today. For real.”
“Something like that has meaning, too. More than you can imagine right now. There is a world beyond your imagination.” It was hard with a childhood as a jujutsu sorcerer. But even after that, there was a line between them; people who were born into a family of them or not.
“I feel like I’m in a mix between Harry Potter and Matrix. Am I a wizard now and have to take a pill?” No Digimon reference? [1] Perhaps…This world is further in the future and Satoru is younger. What about the others? Did the girl have a normal childhood? Sensei? Shoko? Haibara? Do I even exist here?
“Perhaps a demonstration, yes,” Suguru spoke slowly, still keeping eye contact with the younger man near next to him. Those blue eyes that followed him everywhere still had that naivety that the original had missed since he was born. He held their stare for a few seconds, then turned his eyes to the poster of a half-naked man on the other side of the room. Next to a figure of some Yu-Gi-Oh! character[2]. Not the same. “You were never one for more philosophical aspects. Or a general debate of that kind. Yes, that would be enough.”
“That’s blasphemy! I would totally do it! I dare you, choose your subject.” Look at him, like a silly child. It’s painfully like him. But not truly. My Satoru, like me, could never really smile in this world. This one…Without cursed energy, a damned monkey… Should I even care about this?
“Another time, boy,” the monk laughed, and with a flick of his finger, a fourth-grade curse appeared. It was the one he ate on the way – the one Gojo saw him with. Some people hate against plastic plants[3], whoever had a problem with those silly things. Suguru had long since stopped worrying about such things. The outcome of those useless thoughts was never worth it. At least not for him. He noticed how weaker, how lighter the mist felt compared to his own universe. The concentration of cursed energy was weaker, perhaps because there were no honoured one. “Below, you will see something called a curse. A curse is a being that is made of cursed energy. Now, what is cursed energy?”
Suguru made a dramatic break. It came from his days of speeches as a cult leader – people won’t only be swayed by his good-looking face and body, but also by the way he used his words. It was easier, yes, in a way, but just not the only reason for his success. Like my work in my youth, this thought crossed his mind as he planned his next move with his girls by his side. Besides, it would be even better to joke with him about it. The self-absorbed Gojo Satoru, the first person one would think of as a cult leader out of the pair, it would have been him. How funny it all turned out. Now I am nothing all, neither God nor servant. Or will I become a servant again? Would that be too bad for a person like him?
“It is the negative emotion of …humans like you, for example, hating for plastic plants. These curses are classified in four grades, normally. The lowest is four and the highest is one. But we also have one grade above all – special grade. Depending on how a curse is evolving, you can also difference between semi-grade and low-grade. This one here, is even for a four-grade nearly too weak.
“People who can use cursed energy have their own categories, just like cursed spirits. They are called jujutsu sorcerers, and depending on which side you are on, curse users as well. To be honest, it’s the opinion of the weak. Often those who should be it aren’t, and those who aren’t have the backing of large families with enough resources to do their bidding. Normally, for example, a Grade 1 sorcerer can defeat a Grade 1 curse. In reality, the system is weak. It’s unchangeable in the future and in a situation. Not to mention that it only depends on what conservative old men think is what, for example, a powerful curse technique is or what name you have. You shouldn’t forget that when you are dealing with them.”
He often wondered why he was so committed to the betterment of his kind. Against these monkeys. But there was no point in wasting precious time on those mindless actions. Even if it was all for naught, it…Time was essential. But also too freely spent without a replenishment.
“What is that?”
“Come again?”
“Not now, monk, that’s pretty forward of you! I meant that… thing…Cursed Technique…What is that?”
“A cursed technique is an ability that is fuelled by cursed energy. Often a jujutsu sorcerer, a human who can utilize cursed energy, is often born with one. Cursed spirits, by the way, too. They referred as innate techniques and are manifested mostly around the ages of 5 or 6 years. The sad truth is that your power is mostly based on your genetics and not so much on your after action…Well, many would think so. This is mostly true, although… ”
The man remembered again his teacher; he tried to be good, but in the end he didn’t choose the children he was supposed to protect. A common situation in their world. They weren’t teachers for the sake of helping children to develop a better understanding of their power and improving their health; soldiers, too many soldiers and the need for more mindless corpses for the old people on top of it. A normal jujutsu sorcerer, not a special grade, could only decide to leave this world as a whole, but nothing truly else. That women…Is her existence the same as in my world? Or perhaps…she has chosen a different path as well? Truly incredible.
“By the way, this lecture is really fascinating and all. But, like, for real: what is your name? Apparently, you know mine but I’m like calling you Pretty Bangs [4]in my head the whole time.”
He chuckled. Charming as ever. “You can call me Suguru, Satoru-kun. You can think of me as a…helpful friend, you know.”
“A friend? We only know each other for like 10 minutes. And how old are you anyway?”
“Do you believe in fate?” I sound really sketchy.
“What kind of monk are you?” The fake one, Satoru, the one you give all your inheritance on the noble cause of looking after you and/or to somehow cure your illness. You would have been a member of mine, too. It’s just the way you are.[5]
“I never believed in it. Every step you take, every action you take is meaningless in the face of fate. There is a reason why people call fate the cruelest mistress. Such a tragic to be helpless to change the will of heaven, one may find.” What is free will if everything is already decided?
“Why can’t we talk about random stuff? Did you know that the penis of a gay man is on the average larger than a straight one? Like 5.99 to 6.23 inches, we are talking about[6]!”
“It’s easier to accept your defeat as your own doing than as a consequence of your fate.” My parents were like that. Country people.
“You are trolling me!” Ah, back to the days of prank calls and dodgy emails. Maybe this tradition can be resumed?
“To come back to your question - our age is different.”
“Is there any reason not to mention the exact age? I mean, I wouldn’t judge you.” I’m not sure you wouldn’t. If you knew anything about what I’ve done in the past, you wouldn’t talk like that.
“If it’s so important to you, well, I’m…almost one day old, you might say. For someone like me, age is meaningless.” I was always the best at telling more or less than the truth - he never really cared about it, so his skill was underwhelming compared to mine.
“Yeah, age is just a number. And prison is just a room. Holy shit, you are like a fucking infant?! What the hell!”
“Truly mature, Satoru-kun.” He rolled his eyes. The window near to him, to the right side of the bed, was open and he heard the deep barking of what appeared to be a large dog. Something must have frightened the animal; then he heard the shouting of an old man were mixed in with the disurbed atmosphere. Surly, it was an advantageous time. Then, silence.
“Thank you, Suguru. I try to improve myself daily,” Satoru shouted in imitation of a soldier to a higher-ranking member. He even saluted.
“What a noble thing you did.”
“My parents always told me I was a good boy.”
“My sincere condolences on that part,” Suguru replied with a mocking sneer. “They lied. It was only for your own good, my boy.”
“You know them so well already - it’s just what they would do. It’s a prank, bro!”
“I already feel so old,” the other murmured. He stared at the small bedside table where a picture of a frowning Utahime, a laughing Satoru and depressed looking Nanami stood. They looked young, much younger that the curse user had memories of them. They were on a beach; it didn’t look like one in Japan, but one in another country, similar to one he had visited during his time abroad. He always liked to be beyond his former destiny as a rural farmer child. He gave his twins the same gift. He felt a sacred pain in his chest, his mouth was dry. I have never felt so quit peaceful as I did on this day. “And I was only born not long ago.”
“Says more about you than me,” Satoru added and let himself fall back onto the bed. Obviously, he was awake now and ready to start his day - a habit that he also got from his counterpart as well. He watched as the younger one stretched. Like a cat. Suguru tried to forget the image of a majestic cat with big black sunglasses. “Dunno, are you one of those things? That would make sense. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t judge you. No one can choose how they are born.”
“It should, Satoru-kun. Curses aren’t known for their mercy and kind nature.” They tasted how they existed and acted as if they were made by the monkeys. Too much destructive power and no proper way to deal with them for all - kill one, kill 10, kill 1000, kill 10000 and they will come back, they always come back in another form. There is no end, no salvation for the living. The weak die before they can comprehend what has happened to them. The circle of eternal pain and sorrow.
“Ah, that may be,” the white-haired man made a what do I know - gesture with his shoulders. “But you are different, I can tell.[7] We humans aren’t exactly known for our kindness either. And if you guys were born out of our negative energy, wouldn’t that make sense? And can positive not always become negative and vice-sera?”
Geto Suguru, for all his faults, couldn’t stop smiling. “What a creative mind you have.”
“Now you make fun out of me again!” He looks like him, yes, is acting similar to him…But he wasn’t as arrogant as his other half.
“I would never…But…For my sake, don’t trust other curses. They don’t have your best interest on their mind.” I was once a foolish boy. There was a pupil of Satoru’s, too naive and driven by compassion…This person was interested in him, too. When the older man looked at Gojo now, he was somehow like him. Not tainted by the rules of their kind, nor by the corruption of power that brought loneliness, disconnection from humanity and well-being.
“That would totally say someone that wants to kill me. Are we now in a toxic relationship?” Was there anything healthy about us?
“Well, first of all I wanted to say first that you should trust no one. Therefore – a vow. I already mentioned that before we got sidetracked again.”
“Just because you can’t answer a question directly! Is that a monk thing? And, wait - can curses be monks? Do you have a temple where little monk curses like yours are brought up?” The young man held out his right hand to his chin, resembling the famous statue of The Thinker – statue that Geto particularly liked.
Suguru looked at him. “Is there a law against it? Or rather a reason against it? One would argue that a being like me can be anything it may desires.”
“Now you make me out to be some kind of cursed racist.”
“Believe me - I’m the last one to judge,” Suguru crooned. “Now do you want like to make one with me?”
“If it’s such a big deal to you - why not?”
He stared at him. Gojo stared back at him. His eyes shone cheekily at him; it felt as if the other still had the six eyes and his breath was taken away. Satoru had always been handsome, a blessing from the gods. People thought that he, one without a background but with a great future, envied the strongest - and in short moments of his life, it was true. Certain aspects, such as how to shape the future, not to have to rely on others, perhaps even to ignore the fundamental conflicts of their society. It would be unhealthy to ignore these feelings.
“Aw, man, come on! I really thought about it.” You look more like a person without a brain now. Which part of your body are you deciding on right now?
“Well, as good as it gets, I guess,” Geto sighed and made a vow to a man who his former alternative partner was. And another one; one that nobody would talk about because it was so embarrassing thing. He hoped to avoid the same fate. Nothing out of the ordinary, truly. Geto Suguru was a kind man, after all and because he was kind, selfish, he acted on his whims to follow the broken love of his old life. But, well, nobody should forget the truth that old habits die hard.
[1] The truth is – I have no idea about Digimon. I only saw one part when I was a kid.
[2] I want it to be Bakura.
[3] Everyone only talks about strong cursed spirits and their theme of birth. It would be much easier to make something up about that rather than your NPC-NPC curse.
[4] Tried to find a similiar pattern as in the original timeline…Well, it kind of fit.
[5] Some will see it different but nah, my take.
[6] If anyone is interested - it’s from the research book A Billion Wicked Thoughts by Ogi Ogas and Sai Gaddam, chapter 7 and first page of it (P. 128). Truly an amazing book related on sexual issues.
[7] Famous last words. This Mahito and Junpei only in good…Right?