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Broken promises

Suguru Geto's world came crashing down the moment he saw him.

Toji Fushiguro stood in the middle of the courtyard, the dying sunlight casting a long shadow behind him. Blood was splattered across his torn clothes, staining the concrete beneath his feet. The metallic scent of it—thick and nauseating—hung heavy in the air, mixing with the acrid smoke from the burning buildings around them.

Geto's eyes darted around, scanning for a glimpse of white hair, of bright blue eyes. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, a cold knot of dread tightening in his stomach. Where is he? Where's Satoru?

Toji's presence was a threat, a storm waiting to strike, and yet, Geto couldn't tear his mind away from the one person he couldn't find.

His heart was a drumbeat of panic. He'd felt Satoru's cursed energy moments ago—a burning flare that was as unmistakable as the sun. But now? It was gone.

A void.

"Where is he?" Geto demanded, voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. He tried to keep his composure, but he could hear the tremor in his own voice, feel the way his hands shook behind the fabric of his loose sleeves.

Toji's grin was a flash of teeth, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. He wiped his blood-streaked knife on his sleeve with casual indifference, as if he hadn't just torn apart the strongest sorcerer alive.

"Your little boyfriend?" Toji said, voice dripping with mockery. "Dead. I killed him."

The words landed like a punch to the gut.

"No." Geto's voice was a strangled whisper. His breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling, refusing to process what he'd just heard. Satoru... dead? It couldn't be true. This was Satoru Gojo they were talking about—the strongest, the invincible, the man who was supposed to be untouchable.

The man Geto... loved.

"You're lying," Geto spat, but the panic creeping into his voice betrayed him. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. "There's no way... Satoru wouldn't—he couldn't—"

Toji laughed, low and cruel, his eyes dancing with sadistic delight. "Oh, he put up a good fight, I'll give him that. But in the end? Not even the great Gojo Satoru could escape death." He leaned in closer, voice a venomous whisper. "You should've heard him, right at the end. So much for that cocky bravado, huh? You sorcerers are all the same—arrogant and naive."

The words were like shards of glass, cutting deep into Geto's heart. He wanted to lash out, to rip that smug smile off Toji's face, to unleash every curse in his arsenal. But all he could think about was Satoru.

The memories rushed back, unbidden—flashes of laughter in quiet hallways, stolen moments under moonlit skies, the way Satoru would lean in close, lips brushing against his ear, whispering things that made Geto's heart race. The way Satoru's eyes would light up whenever he saw him, as if Geto was the only person in the world.

Gone, Toji had said.

Dead.

A numbness settled over Geto, cold and paralyzing. He felt like he was drowning, like the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

And then, suddenly, all that numbness turned to rage.

"You bastard!" Geto roared, his composure shattering. A surge of cursed energy exploded around him, dark and furious, like a storm let loose from a cage. His curses leaped forward, a torrent of monstrous shapes, but Toji was already moving, disappearing into the shadows with a grin that promised they would meet again.

But Geto couldn't chase him. His legs refused to move, his energy sputtering out as quickly as it had flared. The rage drained from him, leaving only a hollow, aching pain in its wake. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, his fingers curling into the blood-soaked dirt.

"Satoru..." Geto whispered, his voice breaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn't stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks.

He'd always known there were risks in this life, that they walked a fine line between power and destruction. But Satoru was supposed to be untouchable. Invincible.

We were supposed to be invincible together.

Geto's hands trembled as he dug his fingers into the earth, as if he could somehow anchor himself, keep himself from falling apart completely. The world felt wrong without Satoru in it—empty and meaningless, like all the color had bled away.

He thought of the last time they'd been together, how Satoru had pulled him into an embrace, so tight it was almost painful, whispering in that playful, confident way of his, "I'll always come back to you, Suguru."

But now he was gone, and there would be no coming back.

Geto let out a choked sob, burying his face in his hands. He had always been the calm one, the composed one, the one who kept things steady when everything went to hell. But without Satoru, he felt like a ship lost at sea, rudderless and broken.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, kneeling in the dirt, the world spinning around him. The only thing that anchored him was the thought of Satoru's smile, the warmth in his touch, the sound of his laughter echoing in the hollow spaces of Geto's heart.

I should have been there. I should have protected you.

He'd failed him. He'd failed the one person he couldn't afford to lose. And now all he had left was this emptiness, this gnawing grief that threatened to swallow him whole.

But even through the haze of pain, one thing became clear—a single, burning ember in the darkness.

Whoever had taken Satoru away from him would pay. No matter what it took, no matter how many lives he had to destroy, Geto would make them pay.

He would find Toji. And when he did, he would tear him apart, piece by bloody piece.

Because if there was one thing that kept him going, even in this abyss of loss, it was this: he owed it to Satoru to finish what they had started. To carry on, even if he had to do it alone.

For now, all he had left was vengeance.

And he would burn the world down to get it.