The Waning (GojoHime) - Part 2

The Strongest Duo, Part III

July 2006

Came July, they found themselves ensnared in summer's relentless grip. The oppressive heat clung to the heavy air like a malevolent spirit, wrapping the school in a shroud of humidity that seemed to smother the very breath of those who dared to navigate its embrace.

It was the summer that changed everything.

Subtle at first. Friendships, much like celestial bodies, slowly drifted apart under the strain of too little sleep and too many missions. It was a gradual widening of orbits almost indiscernible against the backdrop of daily life. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, each passing moment contributed to the growing chasm until the subtle drift had transformed into a palpable separation and attempts to bridge the gap felt like navigating a cosmic void.

If there was a point of no return, they passed it without noticing.

Rekindling deep connections requires more than a mere desire to return to the past. It demands a navigation through the vastness of changed perspectives. The hesitancy to reach out, born from the fear of talking about the unspeakable becomes like a barrier and then? The unspeakable becomes the norm. Everything that matters becomes somehow lesser, until it is only a ghost of itself.

The waning, like a shadow cast by the inexorable march of time, whispered a cautionary tale of inevitability.

Even if they had noticed in time, they couldn't have stopped it. Everyone was much too busy pretending they had it under control. Jujutsu Sorcerers were good at pretending, an instinctive survival strategy, because if they paused and reflected for even just a moment, they would have to acknowledge that they would never be able to win. Pretending was much preferable to the truth: The fight was without end and their numbers dwindling.

Is this my life now?

In the wake of his death and resurrection, after his high had worn off rather abruptly, Gojo Satoru found himself gripped by a profound sense of confusion and disorientation. In front of his eyes, the boundaries between life and death blurred. Insanity beckoned in every atom. The very fabric of life and death unfolded before him like an ancient scroll, forcefully shoving its secrets into his face. It was beyond comprehension, but he could not look away, locked into the relentless unveiling until his eyes felt raw and bleeding.

The isolation that followed was also inevitable. Gojo's experiences had set him adrift on a sea of solitude, distanced from the mortal coil. The weight of newfound power erected an invisible barrier between him and those who hadn't glimpsed the world's tittering chaos like he had. Loneliness lingered like a phantom, a constant reminder of the vast gap that separated him from the rest of humanity.

From his very best friend.

There was an echoing silence in the spaces where laughter and shared secrets used to reside. A hollow feeling marked by numbness in his chest, a space where joy or contentment used to dwell. How could one live through this and not lose oneself?

It is my life now.

Gojo feared it had always been, but he had been too young and foolish to see. A boy could be told what his birth signified a thousand times over, but he would not be able to understand. The weight of destiny, the profound implications of his existence, had lingered like an elusive truth beyond the grasp of his comprehension.

Now he did understand and it was incomprehensibly horrible.

His life was not his own. He may be rich beyond decency but that meant nothing. If he lost, if he refused to fight, if he took a break, curses would gain the upper hand, to humanity's detriment. The burden of responsibility pressed down on him, eclipsing the glittering facade of being a fabled prodigy with the stark reality that every decision he made carried consequences far beyond his personal desires. The realization was a bitter pill, one he thought he'd never come to terms with. He really didn't want to.