Subaru sat stiffly in the chair, deadpan and visibly resigned, as Shaula clung to his side like a koala. No matter how many times he tried to pry her off, she refused to let go.
Across from them, Gojo sat in a wooden chair with his elbows on the table, thumbs twiddling, an expression of mild horror creasing his brow.
"Well, I was going to bring this up anyway..." Gojo began, his tone cutting through the awkward atmosphere. Subaru's eyes flicked toward him, temporarily giving up on detaching the overly affectionate woman latched onto him.
"Why were you even trying to get here in the first place?" Gojo asked, leaning forward slightly. "I mean, I got pulled in through some weird wormhole just like you did, but unlike you, I wasn't actually trying to reach this place."
He shrugged, eyes still on Subaru.
"I figured if I sensed your presence here, I'd come find you. But ending up here like this? Just pure, dumb unluckiness."
"Unluuuuucky?!" Shaula gasped in disbelief, her head still resting on Subaru's chest. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, y'know! I mean sure, I almost blew Master's head off, but~! That didn't happen, soooo... clearly, he's here to conquer the tower, right?"
She looked up at him with sparkling eyes, hopeful.
Subaru exhaled slowly, slumping slightly in the chair.
"Err… something like that? Honestly, I only came here for personal reasons. I didn't even know about the tower's... weirdness."
Shaula giggled. "Bahaha~ Silly Master! Have you really forgotten that much in your old age?!"
Gojo sighed. "Okay, can you please explain what this whole 'conquering the tower' thing even means?"
Shaula's grin faltered for a moment. Her gaze shifted to Subaru, expectant.
"What?" Subaru asked, brow raised.
"I'm waiting for permission~" She said in a singsong tone.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Permission granted then..."
With an excited hum, she turned back to Gojo, her smile wide but her voice a little more serious.
"The Pleiades Watchtower holds aaaall the knowledge of the world~ Anything you want to know, anything you shouldn't know—Witch's Cult, Witches, lost magic, history—it's all here. Master told me ages ago to guard this place and keep eeeeeveryone out~"
Gojo leaned back in his seat, arms folded as he processed that. He didn't even bother asking if they could leave—he already knew they couldn't. Even someone like him, with the ability to bend space, felt the invisible pressure boxing them in. Whatever rules governed this place, they weren't normal.
"Right.." he muttered. "So... what about the Centaur Witchbeast that nearly killed Subaru? Y'know, the one you vaporized?"
"Ahhh~ Those things!" Shaula said, kicking her feet up and leaning further into Subaru, still locked onto his arm. "Mhm, there are a ton of those things skulking around down there in the Sand Shrine, although they tend to stay down there... once in a while they'll come out, so I sometimes'll just go down and destroy them."
Her voice trailed off, then picked up again with a carefree shrug.
"But since that one helped me find Master, I made its demise just a bit quicker!"
Gojo blinked. A full minute of blinding, apocalyptic light didn't exactly feel like 'quick.'
"Ergh—dammit, you're gonna snap my arm!!" Subaru suddenly winced. "I'm reinforcing it with cursed energy and everything—what is your grip strength?! And seriously, why do you even call me Master?! I can't look that much like whoever you're mistaking me for!"
Shaula just beamed. "People start to look the same after a few centuries, you know~? Males, females, whatever! But your smell is unmistakable~"
Subaru paused. "My... smell? Not this crap again..."
"Yup~! That absolutely foul scent that practically murders my nose...? Only Master would walk around smelling like that on purpose! I mean, I almost killed you at first, but that's fiiiine! Master wouldn't die from something that boring~!"
Gojo remained quiet. For all his usual flippancy, there was a rare note of sympathy in his eyes as he looked at Shaula. Centuries of isolation, stuck defending a tower, killing all who approached… it sounded less like a duty and more like a sentence.
Gojo sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"This place is weirder than anything I've seen—and that's saying something. Anyway, back on track... you mentioned a 'trial'. I'm guessing there's more than one before we can actually get out of here right?"
Subaru remained quiet, brows drawn low in thought.
If the Watchtower really housed all the world's knowledge... then maybe, just maybe, there was something in there—some magic, some ritual—that could fix what was broken inside him. The damage Pride's absence left behind. The part of his soul that had been hollowed out. If he could restore that... maybe he'd stop bleeding from the eyes and brain every time he pushed the Authority of Pride too far.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking...
Shaula tilted her head against his shoulder, her voice sing-song.
"Riiight~ There are three trials you have to clear~"
Subaru leaned forward slightly. "Okay, wait... if we're in the tower now, where were we before?"
Shaula beamed. "Okaaay~ that leads into the floor talk! So right now, we're at the bottom floor: Asterope. Above us is the fifth floor: Celaeno. Then there's the fourth floor: Alcyone. Aaaand all the way at the tippy-top is the first floor: Maia!"
"Errr... so—" Subaru started.
"Lemme finish~" Shaula chirped with a smile. "Celaeno is where the big front door is. Asterope—where we are—is technically below ground, and it connects to that creepy dark place you two crawled out of. Lucky you didn't wake up six feet under~!"
Gojo scratched his chin, absorbing the layout with a thoughtful frown.
Subaru blinked. "Then where did you nearly blow my head off?"
Shaula giggled. "Ahh, that's my room~ Super messy, sorry. It's where I hang out and watch for intruders. I just peek out the window and pew pew anyone who gets close~!"
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "You mentioned first, fourth, and fifth floors... what about the others?"
"Oh! Right! The third floor's Taygeta—that's where the trial happens to prove you're worthy to enter the library~!"
Subaru's posture shifted. His voice dropped slightly. "So about that library… you said it's got all the world's knowledge. Is there anything in there that could help... fix someone?"
Gojo turned to him, confused. "Fix someone?"
Shaula tilted her head again, looking up at Subaru.
"Ehhh… I mean, I said that stuff about the library 'cause you told me to say it incase a situation like this happens, like, foreeeever ago~ I dunno what's actually in there! I just guard it!"
Subaru's frown deepened.
Gojo leaned forward now. "Subaru. What's wrong? You know I'm here for a reason."
Subaru looked away. "Yeah. That's exactly the problem."
That silenced the room.
Gojo blinked. "Wait... what's that supposed to mean?"
Subaru exhaled through his nose. "...Tsck. It's nothing. Just... something I need to fix on my own."
Gojo crossed his arms. "Is this about why you went off to fight a Saint? Emilia told me you were gunning for one."
Subaru's eyes flicked up. "...You know about the fight with Reinhard?"
"Wait—what?" Gojo sat upright, stunned.
A reaction like that was fair. After all, Reinhard van Astrea was about as close to a living god as you could get. Even Gojo—someone who bent space and could literally shrug off nukes—knew a fight against him wouldn't end remotely in his favor. After all, someone like Reinhard could somehow just touch Gojo whenever he wants despite Infinity being up.
"You look... fine.." Gojo said, eyes scanning Subaru. "Other than the Centaur wreckage, you're basically unscathed.. at least for someone who fought the Sword Saint... I mean, Reinhard is a nice guy so I guess that makes sense..."
"Sword Saint?" Shaula suddenly perked up. "You fought Reid and lived?!"
Both men blinked.
"Wait, who?" Subaru asked.
"You mean Reinhard, right?"
Shaula laughed after a moment of genuine surprise. "Pffft~ Who's Reinhard? Reid's my old buddy! Waaay back whenever, that guy was unkillable! He swung sticks around more than swords 'cause he was just way too strong!"
Gojo blinked again, processing. "Ahhh...so Reid's probably Reinhard's ancestor or something I guess. I imagine he's been dead for centuries then."
Shaula's grin dropped in an instant. "...Reid's dead?"
Gojo nodded. "Unless someone killed him, but if he's even half the fighter you speak of then probably just old age. After all, he was human, right?"
Shaula went silent, eyes casting downward.
"...Yeah... he was, huh..."
For the first time, something genuine flashed across her face—melancholy. It passed in seconds, but it was there. Then, like flicking a switch, she perked up again.
Subaru coughed.
"Anyway... back to this err.. Library."
Shaula grinned, immediately springing to her feet.
"Uhuh—! Follow me~!"
The three began walking, with Subaru and Gojo trailing behind Shaula as she led the way, that ever-smug grin stretched across her face. Their destination:
The Great Library Pleiades.
They left the sixth floor and ascended a winding stairway that spiraled upward like a serpent coiled around the tower's spine.
Subaru cast a nervous glance over the edge, his brows twitching. The fall wouldn't kill him—not at this height—but it would hurt like hell, and the lack of railings made the climb all the more nerve-wracking.
"Ergh..." he groaned. "So let me get this straight—the third floor's the first trial, second is the second, and the first is the final one? I'm guessing they get harder as we go up?"
Shaula nodded with a casual skip, ascending the stairs with ease. She'd probably made this trek thousand of times. Gojo, of course, wasn't even remotely concerned either. Worst case, he could just float.
"Hmm..." Gojo said suddenly, glancing up toward her. "Shaula—what's your master's name, exactly?"
Shaula snorted.
"Pfff—he's right behind you, idiot~! Aren't you literally his companion?"
A vein twitched on Gojo's hand for half a second before he exhaled through his nose.
"Can you please just indulge my ignorance? I'm curious."
Shaula tapped her chin, amused.
"Mmmm~ Well, if you're asking, your memory might be even worse than mine! Bahaha~!"
"Regretting it already..." Gojo muttered.
"Alright, alright! His name's Flugel! The Great Sage Flugel~"
Gojo tilted his head, the name tickling something in the back of his mind.
Flugel... Flugel... where have I—
His eyes narrowed.
"...Oh. That giant damn tree. Took a branch off it to impale that whale. Flugel's Tree!"
Subaru blinked.
"Why would he even plant a tree that big in the first place I wonder?"
Gojo shrugged.
"Maybe he was big on climate change. Towering oxygen source, right? Not sure the ecosystem here even works that way."
Shaula tilted her head.
"...I don't know what you're talking about with a tree..."
Gojo sighed.
"Your master planted a skyscraper-sized tree and vanished from history. Sounds like a bit of a weirdo."
"Ehhh~ he's right behind you, idiot!" she chimed again, cheerful as ever.
Gojo clenched his fists, but didn't rise to it. He was tempted—but not that tempted. Instead, he chuckled and shifted gears.
"You're clearly a ranged fighter. What was that white energy you blasted called?"
"Hmm? Oh! That was Hell's Snipe!"
Subaru and Gojo both stopped walking.
There was a long pause.
"...Hell's what?" Subaru asked.
Shaula blinked innocently.
"Hell's Snipe~"
Gojo's eyes narrowed.
It was in English.
Gojo didn't speak it fluently—he barely knew enough from back in the Jujutsu High days before he got sent here, only brushing up when missions dragged him to western countries. Subaru probably didn't speak it much at all either, but by the looks of things he could tell too.
That left one unsettling implication.
"...Interesting." Gojo muttered.
If Shaula was calling out English spell names—and her master was this Flugel guy, who planted a legendary tree, vanished mysteriously, and now lived on only in lore—then...
Flugel might have been from Earth.
Just like them.
Only... a long, long time before them.
Unless, of course, time flowed very differently between worlds.
There was always the chance Shaula would eventually figure out Subaru wasn't actually her Master.
But honestly? Gojo wasn't all that concerned.
Sure, she was powerful—dangerous, even—but if she stepped out of line, he could handle it. He would handle it.
His eyes flicked up toward her as they walked.
...Maybe "dealing with her" wouldn't be necessary, though. She didn't seem like a bad person. Just... morally bankrupt. Centuries alone in a tower with nothing but death on the job description would do that to anyone, he guessed.
Then—
"And we've arrived!"
Shaula's voice rang out, shattering the air like glass. Gojo's gaze lifted just as the staircase unwound itself into the ceiling above.
After several long minutes of climbing, they had reached the Fourth Floor.
Subaru gave the place a passing glance, noting with a flicker of discomfort the open ledge that overlooked the sun-scorched wasteland below.
That exact spot was where Shaula had crushed his skull like a grape in one of the previous loops.
He muttered. "...Time for the trial, I guess. C'mon, Gojo."
He paused. "...Wait, are there more stairs, or—?"
"Nope~!" Shaula chirped. "Fourth and third floors are connected~ So lucky you~! No more spirals of despair for your poor human legs!"
"Great..." Subaru sighed, rolling his eyes. "Let's go, then."
"Sure." Gojo replied with a shrug.
The duo moved forward, approaching a new flight of stairs. This time, mercifully ordinary—straight steps with sturdy railings on either side. The kind you'd find in any office building back on Earth, grounding them briefly in familiarity.
They climbed. And climbed.
The air grew thinner with each step, their surroundings dimming as they ascended.
Then, suddenly, they crossed a threshold—
Reality fractured with a sharp, resonant snap.
The third floor wasn't a floor anymore. It had become something else entirely.
They stepped into an endless void—pure, blinding white stretching infinitely in every direction. There were no walls, no ceiling, no horizon—just the vast emptiness.
The floor beneath them shimmered flawlessly, a vast white so perfect and colorless it felt less like solid ground and more like a fragile illusion. Every step seemed like walking on the edge of nothingness.
Subaru flinched involuntarily, a cold wave of nausea rolling through him. The sensation was disorienting, as if the world itself might collapse beneath his feet at any moment.
Gojo, however, took a few confident strides forward, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if daring the void to challenge him. His expression tightened, eyes narrowing behind his blindfold.
This feels almost familiar... Almost like a sorcerer's Innate Domain. Not quite, though. Too sterile. Too... empty. Obviously not manifested in the same way as a Sorcerer's either. No Cursed Energy whatsoever. No will behind it. Just unending space.
The moment they moved fully into the white expanse, the void reacted—
CRACK-!
A rupture exploded through the space above, below, and around them. Spirals of fractures webbed out in every direction like glass under pressure. Light refracted violently.
"What—?!"
The air thickened. A crushing weight sank into Subaru's skull like iron pressing through bone.
And just like that—
Black.
———————————————————
Subaru's eyes fluttered open, chest heaving as if he'd been holding his breath underwater for far too long. The air felt thin and heavy, and for a moment, he couldn't place where—or when—he was.
Then he saw it.
An infinite expanse of mirrors stretched endlessly in every direction around him, each one fractured by delicate cracks that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow.
Every reflection was distorted. Every image was wrong.
He staggered upright, heart pounding fiercely against his ribs.
"...Gojo!?" He called out, voice cracking with urgency.
Only silence answered.
"...Shit."
Panic bubbled beneath the surface, but Subaru clenched his fists, forcing himself to swallow the rising dread. This was the trial. He was alone. That much was clear.
"...Guess I should be thanking this place." he muttered bitterly, voice low. "This is what I wanted, right? To do this on my own..."
He turned—and froze.
One mirror caught his gaze—a version of himself, face cast in shadow, eyes cold and unreadable. In his hand, a coin flipped lazily through the air.
"...Heads." the reflection whispered in a voice that barely sounded human. "Don't worry, Frederica. Your family is safe... for now."
Subaru's breath caught. This was something he'd never truly confronted before, yet there it was, laid bare before him.
He spun, catching another mirror's reflection.
There he was again—eyes wild, teeth bared like a beast—his hands wrapped tightly around the throat of a young boy, gasping, clawing for air in a grimy alley. The same alley where he'd first crossed paths with Emilia and those thugs. The boy, or just a midget, one of the thieves he'd met on his very first day in Lugunica, was fading fast, slipping into unconsciousness.
"You think this is the first time I've met you? I've seen you all—eighty-eight times..."
Subaru stumbled back, nausea rising in his throat.
A third mirror flickered to life—showing Echidna, the Witch of Greed, smiling coyly across the table at the Witch's Tea Party.
"Would you like to form a contract with me, Natsuki Subaru?"
The voices surrounded him then—overlapping, whispering, accusing, condemning.
His eyes widened, then narrowed.
"What the hell is this...?"
The mirrors remained silent—offering no answers.
But above him, the words burned into the void.
"The Chamber of Reflected Truth"
—Begin.
———————————————————
Satoru Gojo's eyes snapped open.
And in an instant—before he even had time to process what had just ended—his body moved on instinct, peeling itself off the invisible floor as if some ancient reflex in his bones wouldn't allow him to stay down. His breath caught in his throat—not from fear, no, but from disorientation. From the staggering silence. From the absence of everything that mattered.
Around him stretched a vast and endless realm of mirrors.
Each pane floated weightlessly in the void, suspended like frozen shards of time itself. And in every one, he saw a reflection of himself.
But not the man who stood there now.
These reflections showed fragmented versions—slivers of possibility and memory, warped by time and grief. Some were snapshots from his past back on Earth. Others were twisted "what-ifs"—parallel worlds born of decisions never made. But all of them, every last one, carried something false. Something wrong.
Gojo stood in silence, heart drumming a slow, reluctant rhythm against his ribs.
Each version of himself was smiling.
Grinning.
Laughing.
Yet none of them were truly alive. They stood alone—on rooftops, in ruined cities, in hollow halls of power. Untouched. Untouchable. They wore the mask so well—the sharp smile, the casual tilt of the head, the careless confidence. He knew that grin intimately. It was etched into his own bones.
Fake. Every single one.
Except one.
One mirror stood still at the center of it all. Isolated from the rest. And what it held—
Gojo's body. Bisected cleanly at the waist. Crumpled atop shattered pavement, a ruined city behind him. His Six Eyes had gone dim. His limbs motionless. It should've been horrifying.
But the smile.
On that corpse's face—
It was genuine.
Because in that broken world, he hadn't died alone.
Gojo's throat tightened, suddenly dry. His hands clenched into fists without meaning to—shaking at his sides as something deep, long-buried, threatened to rise.
"...Hah..." He tried to speak, tried to breathe, but the air felt impossibly heavy. Like it was made of all the things he'd refused to feel for years. "What the hell… is this?"
His legs moved, one step, then another, his feet dragging across the empty floor as though drawn to that image by some invisible thread. His entire body trembled, not from pain, but from recognition. From longing. From the terrifying truth that—deep down—some part of him wanted that ending.
Then the mirror shifted.
Not him this time.
Suguru Geto, angrier and more desperate than Gojo had ever seen him before.
He stood in some dimly lit office, eyes wide, jaw clenched, slamming his fist onto a desk as his voice broke with frustration.
"What do you mean you can't find him?! He's Satoru Gojo! He doesn't just vanish off the face of the Earth like how you've described!"
Gojo's breath hitched in his throat.
He watched. And he watched. And he watches. He watched Geto search. Watched him fight. Watched him die. The blade cleaved him too fast. Too cleanly. Not even an ounce of cursed energy. No warning.
Just steel and silence.
Gojo collapsed to his knees.
A hand clamped over his mouth as bile threatened to rise. He didn't vomit—he couldn't. The weight in his chest was too heavy. It sat on him like an anchor, holding him in place, refusing to let him look away.
Because the Six Eyes would not let him.
Every moment. Every detail. Every speck of blood.
It was all too clear.
He curled forward, fingers clawing into his scalp, molars grinding hard enough to hurt. It didn't matter. Nothing dulled the fire raging behind his eyes.
And then—
A hand on his shoulder.
Gojo flinched, every nerve in his body lighting up.
His head snapped up—
And standing there before him... was himself.
Not as he was now, but younger. Wearing the black Jujutsu High uniform, the old slim sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The tilt of his head was cocky. Familiar. But the smile?
Cold.
Mocking.
Empty.
"What, gonna cry, seriously? Aren't you supposed to be the strongest~?"
The words were slow. Calculated. Each one twisted like a blade.
"So why care what anyone thinks?"
"Why care what happened to Suguru Geto?"
The reflection stepped closer, voice low but sharp enough to cut.
"Caring is weakness."
"Satoru Gojo cannot be weak."
"You don't get to grieve. You don't get to feel."
"So just forget all that. Burn everything down. Rip the world apart and prove you're not a fake."
A wild grin spread across the reflection's face, cerulean eyes glinting with manic clarity—filled with something Gojo had always feared seeing in himself. It was the grin of a god with no faith left in humanity.
Another mirror ignited to life beside it.
And in it—a new vision.
Gojo, untethered.
A version of himself stripped clean of attachments, of restraint, of love. A monster cloaked in power, razing city after city with nothing but raw force and indifference. There was no sorrow in his face. No doubt. Only strength. Terrifying, endless strength.
Stronger than he had ever been.
Stronger than he might ever become.
And utterly, completely alone.
The reflection let out a quiet, disdainful scoff.
"Tsck..."
And then—
The world snapped again.
Not like before, not a gentle unraveling.
This was violent.
Sudden.
The mirrors cracked outward like an earthquake rippling across glass, and Gojo was swallowed whole as darkness surged in like a rising tide.
———————————————————
"Ugh–?!"
Gojo winced as something struck his shin, jerking his body upright—he blinked, confused, heart pounding. His face was damp with drool. His head had been resting on—
A desk.
He looked around.
Classroom walls.
Dusty sunlight pouring in through old windows.
A place so familiar it hurt. Jujutsu High.
It was unmistakable. He had only ever slept in these rooms, rarely learning anything... but still. It was real. Tangible. And filled with memories he cherished more than anything.
"What?" Gojo muttered, disoriented.
A voice answered.
"What are you waiting for?"
Gojo raised his head. Suguru Geto. Smirking, arms crossed, standing beside him with that same half-teasing, half-endearing look he always wore when Gojo zoned out in class.
"I know this stuff is boring, but class is over so get up already."
They walked through the familiar stone corridors of Jujutsu High, side by side.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, warm and golden—softer than Gojo remembered. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, rhythmic and easy, like they'd done this a thousand times before.
"Do you remember when Yaga made us clean up that cursed warehouse after you blew half the roof off?" Geto asked, hands tucked into his sleeves, a sly smirk curling on his lips.
Gojo rolled his eyes and grinned.
"Excuse me, you were the one who said 'what's the worst that could happen' right before tossing a cursed spirit into the air like a volleyball!"
"Yeah." Geto shrugged, grinning back. "But you were the one who roundhouse-kicked it straight through an apartment window!"
They both broke into laughter, echoing through the empty hallway.
It felt easy.
Too easy.
They wandered through the training yard next—sunlight glinting off the metal poles, the scent of summer grass in the air. Gojo flicked a rock off his shoe.
"You were always too serious about this place..." he said, teasing.
"You were never serious enough..." Geto retorted, arms crossed but clearly fighting a grin. "Remember that time you skipped three straight days of training?"
Gojo shrugged. "I was meditating, you know!"
"You were passed out on the roof with an ice pack over your face and a soda can balanced on your forehead."
"Yeah... and it clearly did wonders for training, look at me now!" Gojo quipped.
They laughed again, and walked.
Every corridor was etched with memory.
The vending machines that never worked.
The stone path to the dorms.
The tree where Nanami once nearly quit, and Gojo convinced him to stay with a twenty-minute rant about 'the art of street fashion and looking undeniably handsome'.
Time seemed to melt around them.
Minutes stretched and blurred into hours—or maybe it was the other way around. The world around them slowed to a timeless drift, as if the very air held its breath.
Eventually, they reached a small grassy hill just beyond the school grounds—a quiet place Gojo could remember well, fondly even. The hill where they used to sneak snacks, huddle close in secret, and grumble about endless, exhausting missions.
They settled there.
For a long moment, no words passed between them.
The sky overhead slowly bled into shades of orange and purple, clouds stained with fire and gold. The sinking sun cast a warm, honeyed light that brushed gently over their skin, bathing everything in a quiet kind of reverence.
Suguru leaned back, propping himself up on his hands, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"This feels nice, doesn't it?"
Gojo stared straight ahead, the usual gleam in his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, though it was clear his gaze wasn't really on the horizon.
His voice was softer than it had been in a long time—almost reluctant, almost fragile.
"Yeah. Yeah... it does."
A gentle breeze stirred the tall grass around them, bending blades in soft waves that whispered secrets neither of them spoke aloud.
Suguru shifted, breaking the silence again.
"You know..." he said, voice light, "You don't always have to be the strongest."
Gojo blinked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You could've just said you missed me, you know!" He shot back, playful but carrying something deeper beneath the surface.
Geto laughed quietly—a sound tinged with nostalgia and a hint of regret—and shrugged.
"Yeah. Well I suppose I do…"
Gojo turned slightly toward him, his eyes narrowing beneath the blindfold, the usual arrogance replaced with something raw, vulnerable.
"...Suguru."
"Mm?"
He hesitated, then forced the words out, his voice barely above a whisper—fractured and surprisingly fragile.
"I… think I'm scared."
For a moment, the wind paused—or maybe it just felt that way, like the entire world held still to hear the confession.
"What of?" Suguru asked gently, tilting his head, his voice a soft invitation to honesty.
Gojo swallowed, throat suddenly dry and tight.
"...Of being alone."
It came out raw, stripped of the bravado and sarcasm he wore like armor. Just the truth, finally spoken after years of hiding behind strength and jokes.
Suguru turned to look at him, his eyes softening—an ocean of warmth and understanding breaking through the barrier of time and pain.
"You always were." He said, with no judgment in his eyes, merely a calm, soft smile.
And in that moment, Gojo realized it. He understood what he had been feeling for years on end.
Strength had never been the goal.
He pursued it because it was the only thing he thought he had left—because if he was invincible, untouchable, the strongest, then he wouldn't lose anyone. He wouldn't be left behind in any sense.
But strength never saved him from that.
It never would.
And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their long shadows across the hilltop, Gojo finally understood what the mirrors wanted him to realize...
It wasn't power that made life meaningful. It was connection.
The two of them sat in silence as the last rays of sun stretched out across the sky, golden light glinting off the dorm windows far behind them. The moment was quiet. Real. Peaceful in a way Gojo had almost forgotten peace could be.
"Y'know…" Geto began, not looking at him, "You're not as good at pretending as you think."
Gojo let out a soft breath. "Was it that obvious?"
"You've always been loud as hell." Geto smiled. "But you get loudest when you're hurting and don't know how to tell."
Gojo didn't respond, just stared ahead—where the horizon met the sky like the edge of a world that could have been. Something tugged deep in his chest.
A silence passed.
Suguru spoke again, gentler this time.
"You never needed to carry it alone, Satoru."
Gojo turned, and their eyes met. Even behind the sunglasses, he could feel it—that warmth, that truth. The same old Suguru that he'd never be able to forget about. The same friend who had stood beside him in the best of times, and the worst.
Gojo parted his lips, his voice caught somewhere between breath and word.
But before anything could leave his throat, the world itself began to tremble.
The golden hues of the setting sun—so warm, so vivid just seconds ago—fractured like brittle glass under pressure, cracking along invisible veins that spiderwebbed across the sky. The wind stilled, suspended mid-sigh, and the horizon bled into white like paint washing off an old canvas.
"No—!"
Suguru rose to his feet, slowly, steadily—as if he already knew the moment was slipping away. The dream around them was fading, unraveling thread by thread, memory by memory. But he looked down at Gojo one last time, his expression tender. Not with the teasing smirk of youth, nor the hard lines of ideology—but something rare, and true.
A smile.
His smile.
"Don't forget it, alright?" Suguru said softly, voice barely louder than the wind. "Even when you wake up... you were never really alone."
There was a pause.
"And you don't have to be, either."
He turned just slightly, hands slipping into his pockets, shoulders relaxing.
"Just, ahh… make sure you teach him that too, alright?"
And then, surprisingly—
A tear. Just one. But it fell without resistance, cutting silently down Gojo's cheek past the sunglasses. The last trace of light fractured behind Suguru's silhouette as the dream reached its limit.
CRACK—
The sky gave way like glass under pressure, rupturing with a deafening shatter.
And in a heartbeat, Gojo was standing once more inside the infinite mirror realm—an expanse of white and silver stretching endlessly in every direction. The illusion was gone. The warmth of the sun, the sound of laughter, the weight of Suguru's presence—all gone.
But not the feeling.
Not the truth.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Gojo exhaled—not sharply, not in defiance, but in quiet relief. The burden pressing on his shoulders had lightened, even if only slightly. He reached up to touch the blindfold beneath his eye, fingers brushing against the faint dampness lingering there.
He scoffed under his breath.
"Tch… seriously? He just had to be the one to catch me crying…"
A wry grin spread across his face, a mixture of irritation and affection wrapped in a familiar Satoru Gojo bravado.
He turned slowly—his gaze locking onto the reflection still standing in the white void across from him.
That other version of himself stared back. Unsmiling. Emotionless. A vision of perfection and power unburdened by doubt, relationships, or grief. His head tilted just slightly, an expression of clinical curiosity flickering across his otherwise blank face.
"So...?"
The reflection asked. No malice. Just quiet expectation.
Gojo's grin didn't falter.
In one fluid motion, he raised a single hand, and with a low hum, a vermillion glow began to swirl into life at the center of his palm.
Cursed Technique: Lapse - Red.
The air distorted, space warping the mirror realm as the pressure around him intensified.
"I refuse..." Gojo said, voice steady and clear. "To be what you want me to be."
His hand didn't tremble.
His heart didn't falter.
"Because there's more to life than strength..." he added, "And I finally understand just what that something is."
For a moment, the reflection stared back at him, motionless. Then its lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"Suit yourself then~"
Gojo didn't hesitate. He unleashed the Red—the searing crimson blast tore forward with overwhelming force, engulfing the reflection and obliterating it into countless shards of light, which scattered and vanished into the void.
The realm itself began to collapse, shattering like brittle porcelain underfoot.
Gojo stood alone, unshaken.
But not lonely.
The Third Floor Trial: 1/2 COMPLETE