A/N: LOL I was not planning on sharing this today but I was changing the banner on all chapters and instead of "Save draft" i clicked "post" so yeah, enjoy earlier thank expected I guess ahah✨ Hitting with this chapter 100k words yay!✨ TW: Blood, Gore
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DESIRE
-Satoru-
Satoru's fingers traced the familiar path along the fabric of his shirt sleeves, rolling them up with the practiced nonchalance of someone who had perfected the art of appearing unbothered in the most dire of circumstances. The mechanical voice droned on, each syllable sharp and detached, announcing the beginning of the auction. His lips curled into a sardonic smirk, the kind that danced on the edge of humor and disdain. This entire situation was a joke, a tragic, absurd comedy of errors. He sucked in a slow breath, letting his frustration simmer beneath a veneer of casual arrogance. It wasn't as if he hadn't dealt with these kinds of games before. The issue was more that he'd somehow allowed himself to be pulled into it.
What had gone wrong? Where had his precision slipped in that single, fatal moment?
Let's see... His mind raced, considering possibilities with a detached sort of curiosity. A dry laugh, more an exhale than a sound, almost escaped him. Could he pin it on the bond that tied him to Aoi? That inexplicable, cursed link that transmitted her pain directly to him, making his mind reel with sharp, sudden aches? He could even blame it on sympathy pains, as ridiculous as that would be. It would be almost poetic in its absurdity—Satoru Gojo, brought low by cramps. No, even he wasn't melodramatic enough for that.
Or perhaps he'd simply miscalculated. He could blame that.
But deep down, he knew it was neither. The truth was simpler, more damning—he had lost his concentration when Tsukishima had driven that iron nail into Aoi's painting, hammering the cursed spike deeper and deeper with such calculated cruelty. It was the way Aoi's body had twisted, the sound of her choked screams as she tried to hold back the worst of it. It was the way her fingers had clawed desperately at his shirt, as if he were her last lifeline. And, for the briefest, most damning moment, it had made him falter. That one slip of focus was all it had taken and it had been all Tsukishima needed. And now, here they were.
Rookie mistake, he thought, a bitter laugh echoing silently in his mind. Get it together, Satoru.
But whatever it was, he'd let himself slip, and here they were, trapped in this twisted auction hall domain by a man he could crush with a flick of his wrist if only the rules allowed it. Worse, Aoi was here with him, and he couldn't afford to lose control. A low throb of anger pulsed behind his eyes, but he pushed it down. Now wasn't the time to think about how he'd made a mistake. Now was the time to show this old man exactly why you didn't corner Satoru Gojo.
