| Pinky Promise | S. Gojo x Reader

217: A Grave Made of Glass

"Sensei..." Yuji approached, his voice laced with concern. "One of us can watch the mirror for a while. You need to train. Mrs. Gojo will be safe in there, and—"

Satoru stopped listening.

Yuji's voice faded into muffled background noise, just like everything else had over the past month.  The only thing he truly heard anymore... were the whispers. Faint pulses of your cursed energy bleeding through the mirror, like a cruel tease. Like you were right there. So close. Yet so painfully out of reach.

It was December 20th.

Dark circles had formed under his blue eyes, he looked drained, exhausted. He couldn't accept it... You were there. Maybe Tengen was wrong, maybe the person inside the realm can't leave once the gates are closed, and so... he waited. Day after day. Placing his hand against the cold, hard glass, hoping that it would open sooner rather than later.

But God, it was exhausting, sitting there day after day. Praying that by some miracle... his wife would come home.

He buried his face in his hands.

Why did I take it all for granted...?

. . .

A ballroom bathed in warm candlelight. Classical music drifting through the air. The world around them blurred — because all that mattered to Satoru was you. 

The sight of his gorgeous wife in his arms as you two swayed in a waltz, his hand holding yours, the other resting gently around your waist

He smiled, looking down at you, taking in your beautiful eyes staring back up at him, that cute nose... those lips he loved to kiss. 

You looked so perfect. And you were all his. Somehow.

And then you began speaking, and now, it was as if the music completely disappeared; his ears were only interested in hearing one thing, the sound of your sweet voice. The voice he heard before bed, before leaving for work, and as soon as he came back.

The voice he would die to hear now.

"I love this." You spoke warmly, a soft smile on your face. "I love you so much, you know that, baby? Each day, I dread the minute you leave for work; and each day, I count down to the minute you'll arrive home. I can't imagine living without you."

His heart pumped faster at the sound of you, his beautiful wife, Y/N, telling him these sweet words. A heat rising to his cheeks, just how could he still get flustered by yours words even after all these years? It didn't make sense... but it did, at the same time.

He smiled wider, whispering.

"I love you too, darling."

. . .

Back in the present, he stared at the mirror.

Empty. Cold. Still sealed.

And he whispered again, more to himself than anyone else—

"Just... why did I take it for granted?"

Yuji stood there, watching as his beloved teacher, his guardian, began to crumble in front of his eyes. He looked down, before walking up to the mirror. Satoru's eyes stayed glued onto the ground, but quickly shot up once he saw Yuji pick up the mirror. 

"What're you doing..? Don't break it!" He yelled in a panic, standing up in a hurry.

Yuji flinched, but expected the harsh tone. He knew just how protective Satoru was over this mirror that he had pieced together, he practically viewed the mirror as his wife. "Sensei, I'm bringing the mirror right outside, it'll lean against the wall while we train outside. She'll be in your view... and you can focus."