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DAY (MONTH) 8
-Satoru-
-ˋˏ ೱ ˎˊ-
Morning
The early morning fog curled lazily around the edges of the barrier, thickening as it pooled over the dewy grass. The first light of dawn filtered through the mist, casting the garden in soft, muted hues. It was a surreal sight, the kind of beauty that would have captivated anyone else-anyone except Satoru Gojo.
It was their eighth month inside the barrier, and despite the surreal beauty, everything felt wrong.
Satoru wasn't paying attention to the way the light flickered through the trees or the way the world seemed to breathe with quiet calmness. The faint glow of his cursed energy flickered around his hands as he pushed himself harder, trying to force his body back into the shape it needed to be. His body moved on autopilot, each motion of his training sharper than the last. The fog swirled with every sharp movement, reacting to his frustration, to the sheer force of his presence. But his mind was somewhere else.
It was on her. Always on her.
Of course it's a countdown, he thought bitterly, the weight of it pressing down on him like the fog itself. He'd realized it too late. Those twelve months were not a countdown for his recover-though he had his own battles to fight-but for Suzume.
His grip on his energy faltered for just a second, his movements stuttering. He paused, staring into the mist, his breath coming just a bit faster than it should have.
He should've seen it from the start.
The signs had been there from the beginning, hadn't they? The exhaustion she masked behind polite smiles, the way she moved slower, as if her body was already giving up before her mind would allow it. She had even said it herself on that first day, the day they had sealed themselves inside the barrier.
"This is all I can give."
Her quiet words echoed in his head, gnawing at him as he remembered the pallor in her cheeks, the dark circles that had deepened under her eyes, the way she had brushed off his concern every time he'd tried to push her to rest, to eat.
And worst of all, her confession.
"I am time."
She'd said it with that soft, resigned smile she wore so well, the kind of smile that hid so much behind it. And he'd brushed it aside, like always. Now, that smile haunted him.
He had noticed, the moments when she had turned away to hide her exhaustion, the subtle way she avoided his gaze when she wasn't feeling well, the quiet way she skipped meals or downplayed her pallor. He had noticed it all, brushed it aside because that's what he did with things he didn't want to face. If he ignored it, maybe it would go away.
