𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐕 - 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒 & 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

GOJO SATORU WALKED DOWN THE STREET, hands buried deep within his pockets as he made his way through the crosswalk and to the other side. The Roppongi district was busy this time of the day, large crowds of people making their daily commute or simply passing by and enjoying a nice day at the mall. Satoru sighed, a tired expression crossing over his face as he continued to walk through the horde of mortals hurrying to their meaningless tasks.

It was early on a Tuesday morning and the streets were crowded with vendors, carts of flower shops and food trucks parked all over the pedestrian street. Satoru bypassed them all, only stopping when he reached the public park. It was quieter on that side of the neighbourhood; kids playing on the sidewalk while a bunch of teenagers sulked, their noses buried in homework for their summer classes.

For a moment, Gojo watched them. It reminded him of his past – the days he, Suguru and Keisuke used to spend out, dodging their teachers and doing whatever passed for fun back then. It was a simpler time. The sorcerer turned, pulling out his phone and checking the location. He was off duty, had been since the last mission he and the Kinzoku heiress performed together. He could still see the betrayal written all over her face when she last looked at him.

Part of him had hoped Mikazuki would never have to look at him like that again. Part of him knew better. Satoru sighed, walking over to one of the displays set up on the side of the pavement. It was large white wooden cart overflowing with flower arrangements and large bouquets, colourful petals cascading down the side. The old woman at the register smiled as he approached, gesturing to the merchandise with hopeful eyes.

Gojo wasn't sure what exactly had pushed him to go there that day. Mikazuki had made her intentions clear, assuring no possible apology would be able to fix what he'd done. Still, Satoru had made the trek down to Roppongi, looking for something – anything – to atone for his actions. But now, as he stood over the array of flowers and pretty bouquets, none if it seemed like quite enough to fix it.

Satoru stood there for what felt like forever, inspecting the flowers with a thoughtful expression. The lady didn't seem to mind, busying herself with a couple of passers-by as they bought one of the larger arrangements. The sorcerer sighed, pulling his phone once again and dialling the number of his brother. Gojo Satoru had never been one for apologies – men like him rarely were, so he opted to call a pair of fresh eyes instead.

Gojo Satoshi was not a man of apologies either, which is why Satoru didn't call him. Instead, he dialled his other brother; Seichiro. Out of the three Gojo boys, he was the one who seemed to be more grounded – maybe it was because he was married, a father to two beautiful boys. Or maybe it was because he'd always been different; shy and pensive, unlike the other two Gojo tornadoes. Either way, calling Seichiro was certainly better than just standing there and gaping at a bunch of flowers.

Satoru held the phone to his ear, multiple beeps echoing through the silence until the line finally connected.

"Satoru?" Seichiro's surprised gasp came through the static. "Is that you?" The younger Gojo twin asked, confusion audible in his voice.

While Satoshi and Seichiro had always been close – as it often happened with twins – Seichiro and Satoru's relationship was an entirely different affair. Satoru was the oldest, Sene's favourite and The Magistrate's delight. Meanwhile, Seichiro was the third-born, nothing but a lesser form of the Six Eyes in his name and a bunch of poorly executed techniques.

Gojo wasn't one for enjoying chitchat, which is why instead of answering any of his brother's questions he defaulted back to his usual uninterested tone, if only a small hint of desperation mixed in with it.

"I need your help." Satoru confessed, his gaze following the newly arranged bouquet as the old woman handed it back to the couple.

It was a big one, with a bunch of red and white roses adorned with a large teddy bear attached at the front. It reminded Satoru of those awful Valentine's gifts he used to get when he was still in high-school, the ugly red colour always standing out against his white hair and blue eyes.

"What–" Seichiro stammered on the other side of the line. "You know what? Okay, sure." He quickly decided, clearing his thoughts before speaking once again. "What do you need?"

The question felt odd coming from his lips. Out of the sparce interactions between the two, it was always Seichiro who asked for help and not the other way around. Satoru was the oldest one – he was also the wisest. It was only recently that Seichiro found himself to be more than his brother's shadows. He was a married man now – a father, a husband, the kind of man people could ask advice from.

It was a terrifying thought. Gojo opened his mouth, yet no sound came from his lips. Satoru didn't like asking for help, especially from his family, yet, for once in his life, he had no idea about what to do.

"I need advice." He eventually admitted, hands clammy as the confession left his lips.

Seichiro narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to decipher Satoru's words.

"From me?" He asked, tone laced with a heavy blanket of confusion. "Why? You usually go to Satoshi for these kinds of things, why me all of a sudden?" He couldn't help but wonder out loud.

Satoru didn't answer, letting out a heavy sigh instead. Apparently, that was all Seichiro needed to hear to know exactly what was going on. Even now, with half of Japan between them, it appeared like the younger Gojo was still the best at reading Satoru's changing moods.

"Is it something you want to keep secret? An embarrassing request, maybe?" Seichiro taunted as an amused smile played on his lips.

"No." Satoru was quick to answer, annoyance dripping from his tone.

If he wanted to deal with this kind of behaviour, he would have called Satoshi, who was the least mature out of all the Gojo siblings.

"Besides, this isn't something Satoshi can help me with." He eventually confessed, shifting nervously as he continued to stare at the flower cart in front of him.

The old lady had moved on to another customer, a single woman instead, and judging by the tearful expression on her face and her red nose, she was buying flowers for someone's grave. It was always things like that that made Satoru wonder. Would anyone miss him if he died? Bring flowers to his grave as he decomposed? He'd done the same for Suguru, but after days turned to weeks which turned to months, his visits grew less frequent.

Seichiro clapped his hands loudly, a happy smile appearing on his face as he walked to the balcony of his house, phone cradled between his chin and shoulder.

"Okay, then go ahead, but I can't promise you I'll be of much use." He said excitedly.

Satoru rolled his eyes and adjusted the phone, wondering how exactly he was going to explain his situation. Despite the fact that Seichiro was his brother, the older Gojo didn't trust him enough to tell him who the gift was for – and even if he did, he knew his brother would immediately run either to Satoshi or to Sene, both of him would chastise him for even associating with Mikazuki.

To them, she was nothing but a done deal, a lose end that shouldn't be trifled with. To Satoru, she was something else. True, they were no longer engaged – but he would always care about her, one way or another. The silence between the two stretched, and for a moment Seichiro wondered if his brother hung up, but Satoru eventually fessed up.

"I need to apologise to someone– a girl." The image of poor Eshima passed through his mind. "A woman." He corrected hurriedly, the world girl sticking to his palate as the young Zenin girl he was set to marry continued to haunt him.

That marriage wasn't for show, meaning he had no way to get out of it. And even if he did, what would happen to his bride, then? No, he wouldn't let Eshima live down such shame just for his selfish reasons. Satoru was going to marry her, even if he didn't love her (even if she didn't love him), not that love had ever truly mattered to people like them. The Magistrate certainly didn't care, all they wanted was to unite two powerful bloodlines hoping for the best – for another overpowered monster, just like he was.