[a confrontation is inevitable. suguru has known this since waking up in this unfamiliar place, feeling both the weight of a phone in his pocket and an all-too familiar energy emanating from someone close by—and isn't it funny? isn't it? to not only be killed by the person once closest to you, but to have them follow you straight to hell.
but there was no time to waste, then; there was simply the drive to get up, to move, to pluck the phone from his pocket—with the hand he should not have—and read the ridiculous instructions waiting for him. they might have amused him, once? to be trapped in some silly game, forced to send messages and make friends—it makes him think of the person loitering at the opposite end of the car.
all the more reason to play along, suguru thought—and so play along he did, completing the objectives as swiftly as possible, because what he needed more than anything was space. the chance to consider the few curses at his disposal, to weigh his (limited) options before coming face-to-face with an old friend.
but even the best-laid plans go awry, as suguru well knows. it's no surprise, really, to find himself trapped in the second car he enters, missing the arm he'd so recently regained—and, as he picks his way through row after row of strange displays, sensing the very person he's gone to such lengths to stay a step ahead of. aha. and perhaps it would be easy to remain a step ahead of him, here and now, for if satoru is also missing some piece of himself...
...it may give suguru an advantage. something to exploit, so long as he presses first—and thus suguru reverses course? ignores the stillness surrounding him, the only sound being the occasional wsh of his empty sleeve brushing against his side. confronting satoru gojo is not a thing to take lightly; he steels himself for whatever is to come.
and yet.
the thing about satoru—the most useful thing; the most dangerous thing—is that suguru knows that he's human? and he has never looked more human than he does now, sitting on the floor like the nuisance that he is—or like a lost child, waiting for a parent to come scoop him up.
such a stupid thought. suguru knows the danger that even a seemingly relaxed satoru poses, which is why he comes to a stop a healthy distance away; he has no desire to lose his life for the second time, but there is something—well. he knows what others would take from satoru, if they had the chance; he knows the opportunity it would present.
and he thinks, too, of their last meeting. he was the one sitting on the ground then, slumped against a wall, completely and utterly defenseless; satoru was the one standing over him, prepared to do what he couldn't do before. talking of trust.
suguru feels something twist within him; he wills himself to ignore it.]
Doesn't that depend? [he asks, calmly, as he watches for even the slightest hint of movement.] On what you find interesting.
iii!
but there was no time to waste, then; there was simply the drive to get up, to move, to pluck the phone from his pocket—with the hand he should not have—and read the ridiculous instructions waiting for him. they might have amused him, once? to be trapped in some silly game, forced to send messages and make friends—it makes him think of the person loitering at the opposite end of the car.
all the more reason to play along, suguru thought—and so play along he did, completing the objectives as swiftly as possible, because what he needed more than anything was space. the chance to consider the few curses at his disposal, to weigh his (limited) options before coming face-to-face with an old friend.
but even the best-laid plans go awry, as suguru well knows. it's no surprise, really, to find himself trapped in the second car he enters, missing the arm he'd so recently regained—and, as he picks his way through row after row of strange displays, sensing the very person he's gone to such lengths to stay a step ahead of. aha. and perhaps it would be easy to remain a step ahead of him, here and now, for if satoru is also missing some piece of himself...
...it may give suguru an advantage. something to exploit, so long as he presses first—and thus suguru reverses course? ignores the stillness surrounding him, the only sound being the occasional wsh of his empty sleeve brushing against his side. confronting satoru gojo is not a thing to take lightly; he steels himself for whatever is to come.
and yet.
the thing about satoru—the most useful thing; the most dangerous thing—is that suguru knows that he's human? and he has never looked more human than he does now, sitting on the floor like the nuisance that he is—or like a lost child, waiting for a parent to come scoop him up.
such a stupid thought. suguru knows the danger that even a seemingly relaxed satoru poses, which is why he comes to a stop a healthy distance away; he has no desire to lose his life for the second time, but there is something—well. he knows what others would take from satoru, if they had the chance; he knows the opportunity it would present.
and he thinks, too, of their last meeting. he was the one sitting on the ground then, slumped against a wall, completely and utterly defenseless; satoru was the one standing over him, prepared to do what he couldn't do before. talking of trust.
suguru feels something twist within him; he wills himself to ignore it.]
Doesn't that depend? [he asks, calmly, as he watches for even the slightest hint of movement.] On what you find interesting.