絆 | bond | gojo satoru

さんじゅうしち | thirty seven

絆 | kizuna | bond

37

Suguru

THE NIGHT WAS HEAVY AND DEVOID OF STARS as we walked through the ancient halls of the Gojo clan's compound. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel it seeping into my bones. The towering stone walls were adorned with intricate carvings of past clan leaders, their imposing presence serving as a constant reminder of Gojo clan's heritage.

This was only my second time here, but I couldn't shake the unease that always settled upon me. The ancient statues of the Gojo clan watched over us with stoic expressions, their eyes seemingly following our every move.

Beside me, Satoru walked in silence, and that in itself was an anomaly. My best friend, a man whose laughter and charisma usually filled the air, was now an embodiment of rage. I could see the veins pulsating in his neck and even in his arms, as if they were about to burst from the pressure. It was clear that something had shaken him to his core, and I had no idea what had transpired to render him like this.

And the girl back in the club, I had taken care of her, ensuring she had a comfortable place to rest in a nearby hotel. She had been unconscious on the ground when Satoru knocked her out, and now, I couldn't help but worry about her as I worried for my best friend. Satoru had been pushing himself relentlessly, not allowing a moment's rest, even after teleporting us here to the Gojo clan compound. The exhaustion was etched on his face, and I was beginning to fear for his well-being.

He's not even daring to cover his eyes.

My mind raced, trying to decipher the mystery behind Satoru's rage. Who was the person he was trying to save, to the point where it had ignited this inferno within him? I knew Satoru well, and I understood that his protective instincts ran deep, but this was different. This was a level of anger and determination that surpassed anything I had witnessed before.

As we stood in the grand hall, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over me. The hall was adorned with intricate designs, and at the far end, I spotted the butler of the Gojo clan, a figure I remembered from my previous visit. He appeared surprised to see the young master, Satoru, especially at this late hour, and quickly made his way toward us.

My thoughts raced as I watched the butler approach. His face shows confusion because what could have brought his young master here at such an unusual time? The tension in the hall was already thick, and the appearance of the butler added an unexpected layer of intrigue to the situation.

The butler, a symbol of respect and formality within the Gojo clan, quickly acknowledged Satoru's presence and bowed deeply as we approached. The night had cast a heavy veil of obscurity, and the butler's features were illuminated by the dim light of the surrounding lanterns. He began to speak, addressing Satoru with the decorum expected in this setting, "Young master Satoru, your father has been worried about your well-being. You have arrived late—"

However, before the butler could finish his sentence, Satoru's impatient and furious voice cut through the air, his tone like a rumble of thunder, deep and husky. The intensity of his anger surprised not only me but also the butler, who had likely never heard Satoru in such a state.