Ataraxia 平静 | Gojo Satoru

-'๑'-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝟎-'๑'-

I sat cross-legged by the pond, the scent of rain-soaked earth thick in the air. Everything around me was unnervingly still. Clouds hung low, their muted gray reflections blurring into the water's surface, dissolving in the ripples like forgotten memories. I exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of my breathing.

In. . . out. . . in. . . out. . .

But it wasn't working. My thoughts skittered like leaves caught in a storm.

Ghost hadn't spoken to me in weeks. Every attempt I made to reach him was like grasping at shadows—slipping through my fingers. I rubbed my palms against my knees, trying to ease the tension coiled in my muscles, but my body was just as restless as my mind.

He was supposed to be here. He always was. Now, all that lingered was a hollow silence, a void where his presence used to gnaw at me like an itch I couldn't scratch.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stifle the doubts climbing their way to the surface.

Why would he care?

He'd always been distant, elusive—a ghost in more ways than one. Even in his dragon form, towering and silver, he remained a mystery. He hadn't even bothered with his appearance anymore, leaving me with nothing but the memory of those eyes I'd grown to miss.

Suguru believed there was something left. Something buried deep within Ghost, even if I couldn't see it. But the truth was, I wasn't so sure. I was no longer sure of anything.

I took another breath, deeper this time, and tried again.

Ataraxia, Gojo had called it. That lingering state of complete calm, where the noise of the world faded and everything became clear. He'd taught me how to find it, but these days it felt impossible.

I couldn't still my mind long enough to find peace—there was always something pressing in, something waiting to shatter that calm before I could even grasp it.

But I had to try.

I inhaled slowly, trying to drown out the doubts, pushing away the frustration that was bubbling up inside me. The rustling of leaves, the hum of insects—I let those sounds fade into the background.

Focus on your breathing, Gojo's voice echoed in my mind. Find the anchor.

In. . . out. . . in. . . out. . .

Gradually, the tension began to unravel. My heartbeat slowed, each breath pulling me deeper, until the edges of the world blurred—the pond, the trees, the sky—melting into the rhythm of my breathing.

And then, everything went still. Not just around me, but within. My mind went quiet, and the storm of frustration receded, distant now, like a far-off echo.

Find the anchor.

I thought of him.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't by the pond anymore. I stood in a field, one usually bursting with wildflowers and tall grasses. This was the place where I'd always found Ghost—if he wanted to be found. But now, the air was thick with grey shadows, the ground beneath me a shifting mass of mist and darkness. It was cold, colder than I remembered, and the silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

I stood still, waiting, the weight of the void settling on my chest. Doubt seeped in again, cold and relentless. What if he doesn't come? What if I'm truly alone this time?

I scanned the horizon, searching for the massive form of his silver scales rising from the gloom. But there was nothing. No movement, no sound. Just me and the crushing silence.