Satoru stood on the other side of the door, leaning against the cold stone wall with his arms crossed and eyes closed. He didn't need to be in the room to feel the jagged, agonizing edges of the conversation. The muffled shouts, the desperate pleas from Subaru, and the sharp, final snap of Emilia's voice—it all bled through the wood.
"Welp~"
Satoru exhaled as the door finally clicked shut. He pushed off the wall and rolled his shoulders, his posture deceptively casual.
"Doesn't sound like it went too well. Or, you know, at all."
Emilia just nodded. Her face was a mask of pale exhaustion, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears she refused to let fall in the hallway. She didn't even bother to say a word in return as she started to walk off, her footsteps heavy and hollow against the floor.
Satoru didn't bother stopping her. He understood her reasoning; she was trying to save Subaru from himself, even if she had to break his heart to do it.
I heard a bit of it, but purposefully aired most of it out...
Satoru thought, watching her retreating figure.
But from what I did hear—and that little 'correction' Julius gave him—I doubt he's going to be all good mentally. Dude's world just tilted off its axis.
"Meh, it's not really my problem anyway."
He sighed, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander back to the events from a few hours prior...
————————————
Felix stepped out from the infirmary, letting out a deep, theatrical breath and wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead.
Emilia surged forward, her fingers interlaced.
"Is... is he alright? Please, tell me he's okay."
The cat-boy merely nodded, his ears perking up.
"Nyep~! Of course he is. I'm the best healer around, after all! Just a few hours of sleep and he'll be awake. Though, his pride might need more than a bandage."
Before he could elaborate, movement in Satoru's peripheral vision caught his eye. Crusch Karsten approached, flanked by the "Sword Devil," Wilhelm van Astrea.
Satoru looked at the pair with a small smirk, before leaning forward.
"Mmm~ Crusch Karsten. You're not here just to check on Subaru's health insurance, I'm guessing?"
Crusch gave a light incline of her head, her gaze shifting briefly to Emilia with a flicker of professional sympathy before focusing on Gojo.
"I propose a temporary alliance."
Crusch stated rather plainly.
"At least until the White Whale is slain. It's true I seek the merit of the kill to bolster my claim... but that isn't the only reason."
Satoru's expression soured. He tilted his head, a skeptical smirk playing on his lips.
"So, I help a rival get ahead by handing them the glory of a legendary kill? Doesn't sound like the best trade-off for me, Crusch, dear~. I'm a 'best in the world' kind of guy, not a 'share the podium' kind of guy."
Crusch didn't flinch. She simply stepped aside, allowing Wilhelm to come forward. The old man's gaze was steady, but there was a weight behind his eyes—a mountain of unresolved grief.
"I wish for the White Whale's death more than anything…"
Wilhelm said. His voice was quiet, but it vibrated with a terrifying intensity.
"——But not for politics. Not for the throne. That creature murdered my wife. It stole her from me, and in doing so, it stole the sun from my sky."
As he spoke, the stoic mask of the butler cracked. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned a ghostly white, and his voice went rough with barely restrained rage.
"I've waited fourteen years for this moment. I have sharpened my blade every night with her memory. I refuse to let it die without laying my steel into its flesh."
Satoru's gaze lingered on him, unreadable behind his shades—though something sharp and subtle glinted beneath the dark lenses. The Six Eyes didn't just see a man; they saw a soul fueled by a singular, burning purpose.
Satoru stepped forward and laid a heavy, grounding hand on Wilhelm's shoulder.
"You've got a hell of a loyal servant, Crusch."
He looked back at her, his smirk returning, though it was softer now.
"Alright. You've got a deal. When the time comes, I'll make sure he gets his chance. As many cuts as he wants. Heck, I'll even hold the tail for him."
Who am I to get in the way of revenge? That'd just make me an asshole, and I'm sure this guy's been waiting to kill that beast for a long time. And honestly… I like this guy. He's got that 'veteran' vibe I can respect.
Wilhelm's eyes widened slightly, the fire in them flickering with a brief moment of shock, then softening into profound gratitude.
"Thank you... Satoru-sama."
Crusch nodded once, firmly.
"I'm aware of what I'm asking. And I appreciate the concession."
"Heh, what, you think I'm a heartless monster or something? You hurt me!"
Reinhard stood before Subaru, the Sword Saint looking smaller than usual under the weight of his own conscience. He bowed deeply, his red hair falling forward.
"Forgive me… Subaru."
Subaru blinked, startled. He took a half-step back, raising both palms defensively as if he were trying to ward off a blow.
"W-Wait—what are you apologizing for? None of this was even your fault, Reinhard. You weren't the one swinging the stick."
Reinhard straightened slowly, his blue eyes clouded with a solemnity that belonged to someone much older.
"As a friend to both Julius and Satoru… I also consider myself a friend to you. And yet—I failed. I stood by while a rift between comrades deepened into a chasm. I watched you bleed and did nothing to bridge the distance. My inaction was a failure of virtue."
He paused, his voice dropping into a pained whisper.
"That duel… there was no meaning behind it. No glory. No lesson that couldn't have been taught with kindness."
Subaru's expression soured. He looked down at his bandaged hands, his voice raspy.
"…No meaning?"
Reinhard nodded gently.
"Nothing good came from it. You were hurt—physically and emotionally. Julius, too, has stained his name; the knights are whispering that the 'Finest' among them bullied a defenseless guest. Honor and pride might have driven the blades, but in the end, you both only lost. So I ask you—why not speak to him? A true, calm conversation. He is a good man… and I believe many misunderstandings could be set right before they turn into hate."
There was a long, suffocating moment of stillness. Subaru turned his head away, his jaw tightening.
"…Look, Reinhard…" Subaru said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual energy.
"——I appreciate it. I really do. You're a nice guy… maybe too nice for a world like this. But I can't accept that proposal."
He took a breath and turned his back on the Sword Saint, walking toward the gate. His voice hardened, gaining a jagged edge.
"We're done talking about Julius. We're done talking about 'misunderstandings.' Just go back, Reinhard."
Reinhard's eyes widened, his brows knitting upward in a look of genuine distress.
"Subaru… then please, help me understand—why? What did you gain from that duel? All it brought you was pain. It cost you your position, your dignity... even Lady Emili—"
"Just go, Reinhard."
Subaru cut him off coldly, his shoulders hunched as if to carry a weight he couldn't share. He didn't turn around.
The long corridor leading out of the estate stretched before him like a tunnel. His footsteps echoed against the stone, a lonely, rhythmic sound that offered no room for argument. He never looked back.
Gojo's eyes narrowed slightly behind his shades.
"…Strange."
Reinhard turned, his gaze meeting Gojo's. The Sword Saint looked pained—broken by the realization that even the strongest man in the world couldn't fix a fractured heart.
Gojo gave him a small, reassuring nod.
"You can head back to the Estate without me, yeah? I'll catch up. I need to take a little walk."
Reinhard hesitated, his hand lingering on the hilt of his sword.
"Very well… And Satoru—please. Talk to him. He's clearly not in a good state of mind. He's walking toward a dark place, and I fear I cannot follow him there."
Gojo's lips twitched into the faintest of smirks—the kind that held more calculation than comfort.
"I've got it, Rein. Don't worry. I'm pretty good at navigating dark places."
Reinhard departed in silence, his white cloak fluttering like a ghost's shroud in the morning wind.
Gojo watched him disappear, then turned his attention back to the retreating figure of Subaru.
"Playing a damn babysitter for a guy older than me huh. The pain of being a teacher~"
The sound of fists tearing through the air cracked like thunder across the manicured gardens of the Karsten Estate.
Subaru's attacks came in a chaotic storm—blows laced with raw fury, stinging pain, and the frantic desperation of a man who had lost everything in a single afternoon. But Gojo hadn't moved an inch. His body remained centered, his posture unshaken, his feet not even disturbing the blades of grass beneath them.
His gaze narrowed behind the shades, calm and calculating, reading the flow of the "purple" energy as if it were a roadmap of Subaru's broken heart.
Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, Gojo's palm glided along Subaru's forearm—redirecting a massive haymaker with the effortless grace of someone brushing away a fly.
SWISH—
Subaru spun with the momentum, pivoting low and lunging back in close. This time, he didn't lead with a fist. He threw a sharp, wild elbow, cleaving through the air like a jagged blade. It was a move born of instinct, not training—the kind of strike a cornered animal makes.
It might've landed, too—if Gojo were a normal man.
Instead, the Six Eyes saw the trajectory before Subaru's muscles even fully contracted. Gojo simply exhaled, not with surprise, but with a faint, weary disappointment.
He's lost control of his emotions… it's stronger, but less efficient, if he didn't have a ton of cursed energy to utilize.. he'd already be out cold on the floor.
In a blink, Gojo's arm rose. He intercepted the elbow with a clean forearm block, locking Subaru's limb in place. In the very next beat—
A counter-jab, clean and precise, slammed into Subaru's solar plexus like a freight train. It wasn't a killing blow, but it was an absolute one.
The impact launched Subaru off his feet. The air was torn from his lungs in a sharp wheeze, and his body scraped across the garden, carving a plume of grass and dust into the pristine greenery.
Still, Subaru didn't stay down. He staggered, his chest heaving as he fought for breath, his limbs trembling with the kind of fatigue that makes bones feel like lead—but his will pushed him upright.
"We should stop here—"
Gojo's voice broke the quiet.
"You're just burning fuel for no reason and it's boring me."
Subaru didn't reply. He couldn't. He just snarled, a guttural, ugly sound, and stomped his foot against the ground. The earth cracked beneath his heel, exposing the dark, damp soil.
And then, he charged again.
Gojo sighed, the sound barely audible over the wind.
"Haaah, Subaru, come on now."
He didn't teleport. But to Subaru's blurred vision, he might as well have. Gojo's hand materialized in the center of Subaru's field of vision——then firmly grasped his face.
In one fluid motion, Gojo drove him downward. Subaru's back hit the ground with a heavy, rib-shaking slam. The breath he had just managed to claw back was stolen once more.
He lay there, staring up at the shifting clouds, his eyes wide—not in physical pain, but in a spiritual anguish that felt like drowning.
Gojo stood above him, exhaling through his nose as he rolled his neck and straightened his collar.
"There's no point in training until you clear your head."
"Your anger? It's not the problem. Like I've told you before, anger can be a great weapon——but only if you're the one holding the hilt. Right now, the sword is swinging you… ya feel me~?"
Gojo slipped his hands into his pockets and looked down at the boy. Subaru hadn't moved; he looked like a discarded ragdoll.
"Right now, you're blaming yourself. Hating yourself. For the throne room, for Julius, for Emilia. You think if you were stronger, none of that would have happened. Right?"
No answer came. None was needed. The silence was an admission.
Gojo looked to the side, his gaze wandering toward the distant horizon where the White Whale waited.
"I'm not gonna lie to you and say your choices were right——because they were garbage. You acted like a brat. But the weakness? That's to be expected. It's been less than two weeks since we started this. You're trying to run a marathon before you've even learned how to tie your shoes."
"This isn't some game, Subaru. There's no cheat code. No fast track to being the strongest. It's just blood, sweat, and a whole lot of failing until you stop failing."
Subaru's fists clenched, pulling up clumps of grass and dirt. His eyes burned—not just from the sting of the dust, but from a bitter, concentrated rage.
"——What the hell would you know about how I feel!?"
His voice cracked, heavy with a lifetime of resentment.
"You're perfect! You've always been perfect! You're the guy everyone looks at! You were born with everything—the eyes, the power, the confidence! You walk into a room and the air itself bows to you!"
He sat up, his chest heaving, his face a mess of blood and tears.
"I've been a loser my entire life! A shut-in! A nobody who stayed in his room because the real world was too scary! This world gave me a chance to be something more, and all I've done is mess up again and again and again! I'm still that same pathetic kid, just in a different world!"
He shouted the last words, the pain laced in every syllable. His fists hit the ground beside him, trembling with the weight of his self-loathing.
Gojo's voice remained calm in response, but underneath it was the low, steady simmer of something old and metallic——the sound of a man who had been a god for so long he'd forgotten how to be a person.
He stood upright, meticulously brushing the grass off his expensive suit.
"Yeah. You're right. I'm me. I'm Satoru Gojo. The 'Strongest,' the 'Pillar of the Jujutsu World.'"
He paused, and for a fleeting second, he lowered his sunglasses just enough for Subaru to see the infinite, lonely blue of his eyes.
"But nobody's perfect, Subaru. Being the strongest doesn't mean you win everything. It just means that when you lose... you're the only one left to blame."
He looked back at the manor.
"You're obsessed with being 'something more.' But you're missing the point. I didn't pick you because I thought you were a hero. I picked you because you're the only one here who actually knows how much it hurts to be human."
His head tilted slightly, the usual cocky grin absent.
"Being me came with all sorts of responsibilities and utter loneliness for most of my life. I was perfect——as a fighter. Not as a person, I've come to realize only recently."
He looked up toward the orange sky, as if searching for something beyond it.
"All people cared about—barring a handful later on—were these eyes of mine, and the fact I was a 'once-in-a-half-millennia prodigy'.. Not to say I ain't grateful for these eyes of mine, but it made me wonder what normality was like sometimes. Nobody cared about Satoru Gojo… only what he could do for the clan. For Jujutsu Society."
He turned his gaze back to Subaru, eyes sharp again, but not unkind.
"So I might not get fully what you're going through. But I've been lonely- sad, too.. so if you're gonna cry."
He pointed toward Subaru's chest, lightly but deliberately.
"Then cry. Get it out. But don't sit there pretending like being broken means you can't still fight on."
His hand dropped.
"The only people who stay weak forever are the ones who stop trying."
Silence hung between them for a long moment—before Gojo added, quieter now:
"I didn't come all the way to train someone who gives up at the very start. Stop being pathetic."
Subaru's eyes widened slightly, his throat tightening—though no words came out.
Gojo turned away, leaving Subaru alone with Rem in the vast garden.
——————————————
The Following Day…
Satoru's gaze narrowed as he strode through the halls of the Roswaal Estate.
Subaru is gone. Rem, too. I can't sense their presence...
He let out a sharp breath, jaw tightening.
I know I can sleep like the dead sometimes, but still—he wouldn't just vanish without a word. Not unless he had a damn good reason.
He stopped in front of an open window, wind rustling his white hair.
"Crusch'll know… I'll ask her."
————————————————
Near the Mather's Domain, the night didn't just fall—it felt like it was closing in.
Subaru sprinted down the cobblestone path, the "purple" cursed energy Gojo had unlocked flickering fitfully through his limbs. Every muscle screamed from the beating Julius had given him, but the adrenaline of fear was a more potent fuel than any healing magic. His eyes flicked left and right, his breath hitching in the stagnant air.
"Too quiet…" he hissed, his voice swallowed by the trees. "It's never this quiet."
Suddenly, the space in front of him distorted. A figure cloaked in tattered black rags appeared as if stepping out of a shadow. Subaru skidded to a stop, his heels kicking up sparks against the stone. His fists rose instinctively, the dark energy crackling around his knuckles.
"W-What—? You want some of this?!"
His heart plummeted as more figures emerged. Dozens. Fifty. A hundred. They stood like tombstones in the darkness, their hoods low, their presence radiating a cold, oily malice that made his skin crawl.
There's no way I'm winning this… even with Gojo-sensei's training, I'm just one guy.
A hysterical thought crossed his mind:
Do I have to die again already?
But then—without a word—the sea of black-clad figures did something impossible. They bowed. A silent, synchronized reverence to the "beloved" scent of the Witch clinging to his soul. Then, like a dream breaking, they vanished back into the night.
Subaru stood frozen, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"…The hell was that?"
——————————————
I'm back… finally... I can save them. I have to save them.
He jogged into the village—but his pace slowed to a crawl. The stillness was unnatural.
"Something is… wrong…"
The buildings stood undisturbed, but the soul of the place was gone. Not a dog barked; not a single candle flickered in a window.
"———!!"
The smell hit him next—the copper tang of blood mixed with the sweet, cloying stench of rot. He gagged, a hand flying to his mouth, then stumbled forward until he found the center of the square.
Corpses. Dozens of villagers—people he had played games with, people who had given him snacks—piled together in a grotesque monument of meat. Slashed. Burned. Limbs mangled beyond recognition.
"A-Aah… w-what is this…?"
He whispered, his voice trembling so hard he could barely stand.
"Rem...? Where is she?!"
He pushed forward, panic mounting with each step.
She's strong. She's an Oni. She'll be okay. She has to be…
He reached the shattered gates of the Roswaal Estate. The iron was twisted like tinfoil.
In the courtyard, Rem's morningstar lay discarded, its heavy chain snapped and the metal glinting a dark, dried red under the moonlight.
He turned—and the world stopped spinning.
There she was. Rem.
She was propped against the fountain, a blade pierced through her chest, pinning her to the stone. Her face was still and peaceful, a stark, mocking contrast to the agony clawing at Subaru's heart.
He dropped to his knees, the gravel biting into his skin. Tears streamed down his face, hot and blurring his vision.
"Why...? Why didn't I come sooner? Why did I stay in the capital?!"
He moved forward like a ghost, wandering into the wooden hut nearby, driven by a morbid, self-destructive need to see the extent of his failure.
He shouldn't have.
He vomited instantly. Children. Piled. Broken. Their eyes were wide and vacant, staring at a ceiling they would never see again.
No. Nononono… NO! This is wrong…! This isn't how the story goes!
He staggered toward the main estate, his mind fracturing.
I've been training… Gojo said I was getting stronger… I have Cursed Energy! This wasn't supposed to happen!
Inside, he pushed open the heavy double doors. Two bodies spilled out into the hall.
Ram.
Her face was soaked in blood, her pink hair matted, lips parted as if frozen mid-cry for the sister who was already dead.
Petra.
The little girl who had promised to wait for him. Her eyes were gone, torn from their sockets—dried blood pooling from her head and lips in obscene, dark stains.
Subaru screamed. It was a raw, animalistic sound that tore his throat. But the silence of the mansion swallowed it whole.
Is this all my fault? I should've—no. I should've done something…
He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp.
"It's not my fault… it's not…"
He followed a trail of frost and blood to an unfamiliar door deep in the mansion. The air bit his skin like razors. The temperature had plummeted until his breath came out in thick white clouds.
Emilia... she could still be alive… please…
He reached for the handle.
CRACK——
His hand didn't just break; it shattered like glass, the frozen flesh splintering off.
"A-AAHH!!"
He stumbled back, but his leg split from beneath him—ice creeping over the floor like death incarnate, locking his limbs in place. He looked around.
The hallway was a gallery of horrors. Bodies of the cloaked assassins were frozen solid, caught mid-movement, mid-scream.
Subaru tried to scream one last time.
He tried to call for Gojo.
He tried to call for Emilia.
"…You're too late, Subaru."
But the cold was absolute.
He was too late, of course.
CRACK——
The world faded to black.
And Natsuki Subaru died.