𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 | 𝐒. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 ✔️

Chapter III

I open my eyes slowly. It's quiet. My house is usually a battlefield in the mornings. I blink, surprised, and yawn, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

For a second, I just lie there, enjoying the silence. It's rare, and part of me almost wants to stay in bed just to keep it this way. I yawn and look around my room.

My room...?

This isn't my room.

My room is messy, with posters plastered on the wall, books scattered everywhere, and clothes piled up on a chair.

There's no chair here. No posters, no scattered books or clothes. Just plain white walls and a neatly made bed which I am laying on. How?

What the hell?

I sit up quickly, heart pounding. Is this a dream?

I blink hard, rubbing my eyes, hoping it'll snap me out of whatever this is. I take in everything around me, scanning the room again, feeling my heart race faster with each second.

I look down at my hands, and a new jolt of panic hits me.

What the hell?

These aren't my hands. My rings are gone, and instead, I see long, veiny fingers that don't even look like mine.

My breath catches, and I can feel my pulse thundering in my ears, my skin prickling with fear.

I throw the covers off and get up too fast, a wave of dizziness hitting me, making me stumble.

I grab onto the bedpost, struggling to steady myself, my hands shaking. I need to see my face. I need to see who... or what... I am right now.

Heart pounding, I scan the room wildly, looking for a mirror, some reflective surface—anything to show me what's going on.

Each breath feels sharp and shallow, and my throat tightens as I fight back a rising sense of panic.

I half-run, half-stumble over to the closet door, where I finally see a full-length mirror hanging.

I brace myself, hands gripping the edge of the door, and slowly lift my head to look into the glass.

I let out a scream, loud and panicked, filling the silent room. The face in the mirror—it's not mine. My legs give out, and suddenly, I'm on the floor, gasping.

The cold floor under my hands is real, but I still can't catch my breath. I close my eyes tight, hoping that when I open them, this will all just disappear.

"Why the hell am I Gojo Satoru!?" I yell, my voice shaky and loud.

This has to be some kind of messed-up dream. After a second I push myself up from the floor slowly , unsteady, looking into the mirror once again, my hands shaking as I reach up and touch his skin, looking at the very familiar face.

It's surreal, feeling his sharp jawline, the smoothness of his pale skin, the shape of his nose.

My fingers brush over his features, landing finally on his eyes—his bright blue eyes, staring back at me, wide with horror.

I'm screwed. So, so screwed.

I frantically scan the room, my eyes darting over every surface. A phone. Yes—a phone. If I can just find a phone, I can call my own number, reach myself, and maybe somehow snap out of this nightmare.

My heart races as I tear around the room, yanking open drawers, checking the desk, the nightstand. Nothing. Panic claws at my chest, making it hard to breathe. I run my hands through my—no, his—hair, fighting the urge to scream again.