[There is a moment that passes, when he hears the soft contact of skin meeting skin, the sound of Suguru quietly closing his hand, that Satoru braces himself. He doesn't tense, nor does he react in any outward way except to slightly tilt his head to listen for movement at his side. But he waits for Suguru's choice: to stay and honor the "rules" of the game by granting Satoru his prize, or to take this confirmation of Satoru's missing eyes and go seek them out himself.
If he were to rise, Satoru would have to follow. And eventually, whether here in his car or later down the line, they would have to fight.
He assumes that Suguru is considering his options — the cost of staying over leaving, what it would mean to draw a new line in the sand, to reestablish their connection as enemies only. Maybe he's filing this information away for later, when their conversation comes to an end. But Satoru once sent students after Suguru knowing — trusting — that he retained enough of the Suguru he knew to refrain from killing them. And likewise, Satoru gives him the space to make his choice, to decide what he wants most in this moment — out of that remaining sense of trust.
It's a lot to ask of him, and Satoru is aware of that, too. He once had Suguru's blood on his hands, once held his body in his arms — and he might, again, if Suguru pursues the non-sorcerers on this train, and if Satoru has to stop him here, just as he had to back in their world. Suguru could try to return the favor, and this may very well be his best chance; Satoru will be more formidable later, after he finds his eyes.
So the moment is heavy, weighted, and feels long despite being brief, though to anyone else, Satoru still looks like the annoyance he is. He still sits seemingly without a care in the world, carefree in demeanor and expression both.
Except, when Suguru makes his choice by asking that question, Satoru's smile turns a shade softer, in the way that it would have years ago, upon seeing Suguru for the first time after a long mission — in a way that only one other person could notice. And only for a moment, because then Satoru is gathering himself into a more reasonable sitting positon, pulling one leg to himself and resting his arm on his knee.
Suguru is right, of course, in assuming that Satoru's preloaded reply is to drag this out — to complain, talk about nonsense, and maybe even try to keep Suguru here long enough for someone to walk by with his eyes in tow. The conversation is serious, but Satoru rarely approaches important topics with the gravitas they deserve, especially if they may imply that there are additional vulnerabilities in play.
And so, with that gentle prompting, he does cut to the chase, in the sense that he doesn't attempt to turn the conversation back around on Suguru. But he does it with the frivolity of an old friend catching up on gossip, rather than with the solemnity that most other jujutsu sorcerers might afford the subject of one very big problem.
no subject
If he were to rise, Satoru would have to follow. And eventually, whether here in his car or later down the line, they would have to fight.
He assumes that Suguru is considering his options — the cost of staying over leaving, what it would mean to draw a new line in the sand, to reestablish their connection as enemies only. Maybe he's filing this information away for later, when their conversation comes to an end. But Satoru once sent students after Suguru knowing — trusting — that he retained enough of the Suguru he knew to refrain from killing them. And likewise, Satoru gives him the space to make his choice, to decide what he wants most in this moment — out of that remaining sense of trust.
It's a lot to ask of him, and Satoru is aware of that, too. He once had Suguru's blood on his hands, once held his body in his arms — and he might, again, if Suguru pursues the non-sorcerers on this train, and if Satoru has to stop him here, just as he had to back in their world. Suguru could try to return the favor, and this may very well be his best chance; Satoru will be more formidable later, after he finds his eyes.
So the moment is heavy, weighted, and feels long despite being brief, though to anyone else, Satoru still looks like the annoyance he is. He still sits seemingly without a care in the world, carefree in demeanor and expression both.
Except, when Suguru makes his choice by asking that question, Satoru's smile turns a shade softer, in the way that it would have years ago, upon seeing Suguru for the first time after a long mission — in a way that only one other person could notice. And only for a moment, because then Satoru is gathering himself into a more reasonable sitting positon, pulling one leg to himself and resting his arm on his knee.
Suguru is right, of course, in assuming that Satoru's preloaded reply is to drag this out — to complain, talk about nonsense, and maybe even try to keep Suguru here long enough for someone to walk by with his eyes in tow. The conversation is serious, but Satoru rarely approaches important topics with the gravitas they deserve, especially if they may imply that there are additional vulnerabilities in play.
And so, with that gentle prompting, he does cut to the chase, in the sense that he doesn't attempt to turn the conversation back around on Suguru. But he does it with the frivolity of an old friend catching up on gossip, rather than with the solemnity that most other jujutsu sorcerers might afford the subject of one very big problem.
He cheerfully says:]
I made a friend.