Chapter Text
Wow. Absolute wowzers. His day could not get any worse.
First, he finds out his best friend is alive. Then, he finds out his best friend isn’t alive. Then, he finds out some creepy brain possessed his best friend’s body and it’s probably his fault.
He glanced around and grimaced a bit. It was dark, dank and full of skeletons. There was even a little lump of a human-shaped object there. How pleasant.
…Wait a second.
He returned his stare to the form of what looked to be a child, swamped in a large, stained, dark grey tunic, curled into a tight ball between two… ribcages, asleep.
Well, okay then.
“…The Prison Realm holds only one target.” Gojo Satoru mused to himself, unable to keep the tone of surprise from his voice as he gradually pushed himself closer to the child-thing. “Just who- no, what are you?”
He hummed in thought, flicking through his memories to see if he’d heard of anything like this before. If that ugly brain worm knew, then he probably wouldn’t’ve sent him here. The entire point of the Prison Realm was that it trapped only one occupant, and the isolation drives them insane or something.
“Well, I’m definitely not complaining.” Satoru crossed his legs languidly over the bones, trying to get comfortable amongst all these skeletons. “I was afraid I’d get bored.”
Physical time didn’t pass here, but mental time… Even if this kid is annoying, it’d still be company, and that’s better than what can be said about all these skeletons- the remains of the previous soldiers who’d all killed themselves, judging by what that fake Suguru said. Not that anyyy of that would affect him either way.
Satoru propped his elbow on a skull, leaning his cheek onto it as he stared at the child, poking at their cheek with his other hand. “Helloooo? Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!”
He abruptly stopped and wondered what he was going to do if the kid flipped on him. If this kid had been here before him… they’ve probably gone mental. That explained the bloodstains on the surrounding skeletons. In their hair, on their skin, on the collar of their shirt.
Yikes. Satoru wasn’t very qualified for this.
“Deep sleeper?” He pouted. “I guess you’d have to be with all these skeletons. Looks like they’re all having a seizure, rattling like that. Gross.”
Still, he was never deluded to reality, much as Shoko liked to tease him otherwise, and he knew he’d have to face this kid sooner or later. …Preferably sooner because the curiosity and boredom were getting mad itchy.
Then eyes opened, abyssally dark and Satoru almost wished he’d just held his tongue and thought it through a bit more.
Because the kid was screaming- or so it looked like; mouth open in a soundless scream, cold sweat breaking out on their skin, pupils blown so wide-
Bloodied nails gripped at matted, ebony hair as they convulsed in body-wide flinches, like they were being shocked or impaled.
“Shit-”
And the panicked seemed to triple at his utterance and Satoru froze, not moving, not speaking, not even breathing as his mind raced at what to do.
But this kid really was a kid, and Satoru did actually have a conscience. So, he gritted his teeth and lunged towards them in a single motion, grasping both wrists in a hand and shoved his own blindfold over the kid’s head.
It was probably the sight of him.
It was a gloomy place here and Satoru was aware of how out of place his bright features would be. Hopefully… his instinctive decision was a good one.
Their lips trembled, mouthing soundlessly- fast, panicked, slurred- inaudible. Satoru let their wrists go when they yanked at it.
“Calm down,” Satoru said in the most- well, calm voice he could muster. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”
Usually, he tacked on some conditional threat afterwards, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Even that reassurance had no effect on the writhing kid.
It seemed they were already too tired to bother with actual struggling and they just trembled, twitching at his every inhale and exhale.
A small noise left the child’s mouth, like a wheeze, a particularly heavy breath.
Satoru waited a few seconds, before prompting them with an encouraging hum.
They coughed and went to speak again through a quaking lower lip and chattering teeth- “H-uh’m.”
Satoru grimaced, wracking his mind for what that could possibly mean. “Sorry?”
“Home.”
It was English.
They couldn’t speak Japanese, Satoru realised after they made hushed babbling noises a few more times. That made it much more complicated.
Their hands reached towards him tentatively, growing more and more desperate as they met thin air. He clasped their hands with his own, then watched as fear wrote over their frame anew.
It was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t, wasn’t it? Satoru sighed. This was hard… Jujutsu High hadn’t really taught him anything about this. Neither did being a teacher.
Well, he’d never really listened to lectures on customer service or whatever- Suguru handled all of that. Satoru was always there to beat up whatever needed to be beat up. And as a teacher… He’d just told his kids that their path was of inevitable death and suffering and that they needed to suck it up and shove it or quit.
Megumi and Tsumiki were cute little kids, but they were jaded before Satoru even got to them. He didn’t really have to raise them- didn’t have to think much about caring for them. Satoru didn’t have any template to go off of, really.
But here, Satoru had nothing else to do except try because even he knew no kid deserved this fucked up fate.
Satoru stared down at their hands, nail beds bitten raw, mangled knuckles, irritated red skin. He smoothed his thumb over the fresher of the scars, wondering if he should actually put his mind into outputting reversed cursed energy to heal these. It looked pretty painful.
Satoru flicked his eyes back to the expression on the child’s face. He’d never put his blindfold over other people before. Shoko did make a habit of stealing his sunglasses back in high school though.
Was it even hygienic? Satoru grimaced. Well, whatever. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Satoru can deal with whatever headaches the Six Eyes gives him anyway.
“How are you feeling?” Satoru murmured in the quietest whisper he could make. The kid still jumped and squeezed his hands a bit, hunching over themself.
“Home…” They uttered, barely audible.
Still English. He could’ve sworn they looked Japanese.
Shit, he was kinda rusty. The assistants always helped with the translations.
“Home?” He echoed hesitantly.
“Yes, home. Take me home.”