𝐗𝐎 | 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

The Morning

The sun had barely risen, but it was already too bright. The kind of light that forces its way into your eyes even when they're shut tight. Geto sat in the driver's seat, his face illuminated by the light filtering through the windshield. Beside him, Gojo occupied the passenger seat as one arm draped out the open window. His eyes were still hidden behind the dark sunglasses.

The streets, previously alive with the frenetic energy of nightlife, were now filled with the steady stream of people heading to their daily routines. The sound of distant chatter and the occasional blare of car horns mingled in the distance.

The ordinary world continued to spin despite the chaos you'd escaped.

You slumped low in the backseat, trying to avoid the intrusive rays of the sun. Each jolt of the car sent a throb of pain through your aching head. You fought hard against your eyelids that were too heavy to try to keep open.

Geto's fingers drummed absentmindedly on the steering wheel as he kept his attention fixated on the road. His face masked his every thought, though the occasional glance at the rearview mirror betrayed a flicker of worry.

They had both maintained this stony silence since the events of the previous night. They were never the ones to indicate the conversation, nor had they answered any of your questions directly. Every attempt you made to pick up the subject was met with baseless reassurances. Geto informed you, "Besides, if there's someone you should think twice about, it is Gojo, I'm an angel in comparison."

Gojo had flashed his trademark smile. "What? Come on. Don't listen to him. I'm as good as they come."

"No, you two have more similarities than you might realize," you replied.

"Yeah? What have you been observing us? You must like us more than you like to admit. Can't say I mind," Gojo said.

"I'm just saying neither of you seems willing to answer the question."

"You can't just be thinking about what's already happened. Think about what's ahead of you. At least that's the only thing you can change now. Don't you agree?"

Maybe it was. Maybe that's all it had ever been to them. But that left you with more questions than answers and no closer to understanding what had happened. The only agreement Gojo and Geto concluded had been to drive you to your apartment to collect your work equipment. Nothing more, nothing less.

The car's interior was like a pressure chamber, the silence between the three of you more oppressive than comforting. Now and then, the creak of the car seat or the engine punctuated the silence, but it did little to ease the tension.

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of your apartment building. The street outside your apartment was a bustling of activity, bathed in the harsh, artificial light of blue and red.

Neighbors gathered behind their curtains, their faces half-hidden but their curiosity and concern palpable.

The ground floor in your apartment complex had seen better days, and those days were increasingly distant. You glanced at the notice, its worn edges curling slightly as if it, too, had given up on hope. 'Elevator out of function'. The stairs will do.

The murmurs grew louder as you reached the last step. Officers clustered outside your door. The hallway was filled with their subdued conversations and the occasional shuffling of feet. One cop broke from the group. The tall man, with a serious demeanor, stepped forward to halt you. His badge stated Nanami Kento. "You live here, ma'am?" he asked. You nodded.

"We received reports of disturbing noises—banging sounds—coming from your apartment from around 5 am to 7 am."

"Did someone try to break in?"