#jjk chapter 236 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

javarium · 7 months

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ensō (in paradise)

gojo satoru x student! reader — [tffts]

throughout heaven and earth, he alone is the honored one. but he doesn’t want either. he wants his paradise; he wants to be back in the field of lotuses and lilies with the one that treats him like he was never a god, but as if he was always human

w — teacher/student relationship, underage, adult/minor relationship, age gap, mostly Gojo’s POV, implied! slightly chubby reader, minor gore, prose, word vomit in some areas haha, no dialogue except maybe a few lines lmao, ANGST, and JJK manga spoilers for 236

[ ending line divider goes to @/saradika]

Nothing in his life could have ever prepared him for this. No amount of training or mental fortitude could ever prepared him for losing the fight — for defeat — and the aftermath that he knew would ensue. He didn’t like it, but it was what it was.

The only problem? He wasn’t satisfied.

With this? Never.

Satoru had won. The fight was over. He had bested the King of Curses with his Unlimited Hollow, hollowing out a massive chunk of Shinjuku. The body of the boy that Satoru swore to take back was battered, missing limbs and out of energy and done.

He won.

What went wrong? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his torso had been suddenly cut, split almost in half with entrails visible for the world to see. To see that he was nothing more than a human— a human playing the part of a god that he was not. He remembers losing feeling below his ribs, the warmth of the fish of blood, then falling, sliding backwards from atop his lower half. He doesn’t like to see that his legs are still standing, that blood coats everything from where he was cut to his knees. He’s sure there’s a puddle gathering beneath the feet his head was separated from.

All he knows is that he’s dying, and that he won’t be coming back.

He doesn’t need to close his eyes to see Suguru, Nanami, Haibara, and Masamichi in the afterlife. That’s unnecessary, he thinks. They talk in the final moments of the life of Gojo Satoru, in his state of limbo of his soul coming to pass into the pearly gates he knows he doesn’t deserve to go through.

He calls out to his old teacher in the afterlife, yelling at him over the saying that there’ll never be a sorcerer that won’t die with regrets.

Because despite the facade that he doesn’t have any… maybe, just maybe… he has them.

It may have been a worthy fight, a worthy end for Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer of the modern era, but he wasn’t satisfied. He had regrets (he wouldn’t have called out to his teacher otherwise) about… maybe a few things. Perhaps several. He was supposed to die alone; he was supposed to show Sukuna he understood the magnitude of solitude the King of Curses bore as the strongest; he was supposed to foster a new generation…

Ah… He almost closes his eyes. His students…

Satoru’s voltage had just began to ramp up, his reverse cursed technique back at full force thanks to Black Flash. He had won. Hollow Purple had brought the mighty King of Curses to his knees, no matter the expense to Shinjuku.

But now, it was too late. It had all been too sudden for even him to comprehend: that he had been cut through by Sukuna’s newly acquired technique.

Satoru heard his lower half finally hit the ground, inches, centimeters even, from his severed upper. He could feel the blood splatter onto the stumps of his arms, guessing its proximity.

How was one supposed to fix this? He knew he probably could, even if it did re-exhaust the reverse cursed technique bar he’d just filled back up. That wasn’t a problem, if he could just think hard enough.

The problem now was fighting the peaceful slow of his heart with the regrets he wasn’t allowed to have; the problem was the fighting the serenity of death with the unsatisfactory, unsatisfied way he was going to leave the planet — leave his fellow peers and students behind.

His students… A faint hum rumbles from his throat. You.

He can only imagine how you’re feeling, seeing him severed in almost half and a bloody mess. He knows how he would feel if anything like this happened to you. He can’t even imagine it… To flatten the entire landscape, the Earth even, to obliterate everything and everyone on it, would not be enough, nowhere near enough, to satisfy his rage. Because it wouldn’t bring you back.

Nanami was half right. He does use jujutsu as a means to satisfy himself. He is weird; he’ll definitely agree. However, as of just a few months ago, that’s changed. It’s changed because you dropped into his life. It’s changed because you didn’t see him as a god like the rest of jujutsu society. You didn’t revere him, the very pinnacle of sorcery itself, not like Yuuji did. Although he tried at first to get you to see him the same way everyone else did, he quickly gave up. Because it felt nice. For some reason, he didn’t feel like he had to be at the top. Not with you. Yes, he immediately knew how strange it was, but what he didn’t do was question it. And that was something he wouldn’t regret.

“…toru!”

Satoru didn’t know why he was hearing your voice. The universe granting him one last wish?

He prayed that you weren’t here on the battlefield, here in front of Sukuna. He prayed your voice was nothing more than a figment of his imagination — the overactive brain that made him so childish and hyper. Satoru hoped it was your voice carrying across the wind, across the spiritual plane, because if it wasn’t, he was truly going to hate himself for not getting up. Especially when he knew he could. He just… didn’t want to.

Satoru felt the cold, then a familiar firmness press against the severed portion of his body. His lower half. His legs and partial torso were being put to the rest of his upper body, his arms being connected to remaining stumps.

His hearing was still intact. Muddled just a little bit, like being underwater, but it was coming back to him.

The first thing he hears clearly is crackling. Like electricity. Like lightning. He knows what’s happening even while he’s dying.

Kashimo must be on the field, he thinks. And he’s surprised he can still think. Because there was a moment earlier where thoughts were thick fog, hazing over his overworked brain to tell him to sleep and get some rest even though it would be the last time his eyes would close.

Things get clearer; his hearing increases, his thoughts begin to speed up, his vision goes form opaque to crystal, and finally, his sense of touch comes back.

“Satoru!”

He’s right. Kashimo is on the field, fighting Sukuna. Shoko is also there, along with Yuuta. Both are utilizing their reverse cursed energy to the maximum output. And, to his fear, so are you.

He’s right. You’re on the battlefield as well. It makes his heart sink in upset. You’re helping heal him, too. Out of the three of you, you have the highest output of healing capacity. You match him so well, just with the opposite powers; two sides of the same coin.

Satoru hates the tears running down your cheeks. He hates that your eyes are swollen and puffy and red and that you’re going to have a massive headache come tomorrow. He hates that you’re this sad, this upset, and it’s all because of him. He’d like to rip his own heart out as recompense, but he knows that would only hurt you further.

The only way he could make it better is by healing and getting up off the ground.

Satoru’s going to make it better. He can’t leave you alone and afraid and in this current state that breaks the heart inside his chest that he found out is still human. After all this time, he’s still human. And he still has to thank you for showing him that.

Heaven with his friends was amazing. Earth with his students and peers was exciting. But that wasn’t enough. You were the paradise that made him feel human, feel something he hasn’t known before. It was new, something more than just fun and exciting, and he wasn’t willing to let that go. Not yet. Not ever.

He can feel his brain pulse with the strain, lifeforce dwindling as he searches and searches and searches and searches and fucking there it is.

Satoru fires up his reverse cursed technique, smoke billowing from his waist and arms, the energy encompassing his broken body. A heavy, soul-shaking thunderclap echos in his ears the second his heart restarts. The suddenly inhale of oxygen almost overwhelms his lungs and he’s alive again.

Shoko and Yuuta’s hands are still on him, unwavering while aiding in the process. You, however, pull away. He knows why. He knows you too well: that you fear your touch might make things worse instead of better.

Silly girl, he thinks with a smile. You could never hurt me.

Everything hurts. Reverse cursed energy may heal wounds, but scars would still surely remain.

He uses his repaired arms to lift himself off the ground. He whines childishly at the pain, earning a deadpan look from Shoko and a heavy sigh from the second-year, along with a cloth to wipe the blood from the sides of his mouth.

“Knock it off, Gojo.” Shoko lights up another cigarette. She takes a long puff, one that makes his, Yuuta’s, and your sweet and puffy eyes go wide. “You need to recover. Properly, this time. Come back to base. You can fight him again if Kashimo loses.”

His shining blue eyes go to Sukuna and Kashimo. He wants to say something, that he should finish what’s been started. But the second his eyes land on them, his peripheral sees you. Devastated, sweet, upset, lovable little you that just witnessed the near loss of someone who was more than just a teacher to her.

He bites his tongue. He can’t.

“Okay~”

Satoru is hugged by his students and applauded by the rest once he’s back. Maki, however, true to Maki fashion, punches his chest in worry. It hurts, thanks to her Heavenly Restriction, but he’s glad to feel it. (She’s stronger than Toji, that much he’s almost sure of.)

He doesn’t shower, but cleans up with water and cloth and changes into new clothes, ready sooner rather than later if he’s needed again. Which he doesn’t doubt that he will.

But Satoru wants to rest now. He wants to watch as Kashimo (and maybe his students) take down Sukuna and Kenjaku. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. He does, but he doesn’t. The longer he’s away from the battlefield and by your side, the more he’s tearing away from his desire to fight. He may come when called, but for no reason other than that. Satoru wants to hand the torch off. It’s time.

He can hear the fight; he doesn’t need to see it. His eyes need rest anyway.

He wants to indulge in the luxury of not being needed. He want to indulge in the paradise of being human, of being content and finally satisfied with something other than being the world’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer. And with you, he can do that. You provide that sanctuary for him. You give him things he never thought were possible for someone like him.

Satoru’s big arms are looped tightly around your waist, holding you close to him. His head is buried into the soft squishiness of your tummy while he rests. It’s his favorite place to be. Your tummy is the perfect pillow to rest his head, a little piece of heaven that grants him rest he doesn’t often come by. It’s warm and soft and cozy and he genuinely doesn’t understand why you don’t like how soft you are.

He hopes you stay soft. As soft as possible anyway. He doesn’t want you hardened, not like him. He wants your heart to stay soft, your hands smooth and stomach plush and comfy so he can feel every day the fruit of his sacrifice of being The Strongest.

As for you, you can’t help but feel like you’re about to explode. Not even an hour ago, the man laying on your lap, your teacher, was drifting into the afterlife, his blood all across the ground and staining his lower half after being cut into two (four, but you can’t bother to think about it any further).

Now, he’s nestled into your tummy with a content grin on his face, using you as a pillow and relaxing as if he hadn’t just fought the fight of his life against the most powerful being in known jujutsu history — like nothing ever happened. Your hands are threaded through his stark white locks, fingertips gently rubbing his scalp to the point where you were sure he was falling asleep.

“Easy,” comes Satoru’s voice. He isn’t asleep. The tone he uses is not his high pitched one; it’s the deep one that he uses on rare occasion, the one that grabs your attention because it’s important. “Stop thinking so much. I’m still here.”

His ethereal blue eyes gaze up at you sweetly, like one would a lover like you’re more than just his student, and you are. They’re filled with such emotion it makes you turn away in embarrassment. You don’t know why he looks at you like you’re the world to him, but he does. It’s because you’re different; they’re filled with love, because he knows in his heart he’s in love. Even if he has to wait a few more years, he knows that you’re it. You’re the one for him.

You’re his paradise, his well-deserved peace and tranquillity. Together with you, he’s at his best.

Behind him on the screen, Kashimo decimates Sukuna further. He’s on his knees, and Yuuta takes over from there. Sukuna’s soul is separated from Megumi’s body, leaving the boy comatose from his own soul being crushed under the weight of Sukuna’s evil. All that’s left is Kenjaku, and Satoru knows he can easily defeat the man holding his late best friend’s body and put an end to the Culling Games once and for all.

Satoru can’t wait until this is all over. He can’t wait to properly bathe in the glory of the peace and serenity of the paradise that he’s never had until now — the paradise he’s more earned. Death hasn’t earned him yet.

Satoru burrows himself deeper into your stomach, curling his legs up on the sofa, making you giggle from being ticklish there. He’ll come if he’s needed. But for now, he’s going to stay behind, and keep you out of harm’s way doing it.

Right here and right now, he’s going to be a selfish little bastard and enjoy the paradise on Earth that Heaven could never have afforded him.

here’s the fix-it fic guys time to take a tylenol and hit the pillow. i have absolutely no shame in giving myself carpal tunnel for this. gojo dead? naw he just gotta wait for backup everything’s fine :’)) also this is a jumbled mess and probably shit that’s the only thing I’ll apologize for bc I kept on getting upset and crying while doing this like 🥲 gojo come back

taglist (for now): — @vagabond-umlaut @heresan @nayrring @satorunin @satoruhour @aeanya @greycaelum (we don’t talk much babe but I thought you’d be okay with me tagging you since you commented on a couple of my works ☺️ and I’m such a huge fan of urs)

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fxtalitygod · 7 months

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「 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙲𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 」

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (or Afab!Reader)

Synopsis: You preferred your coffee to be black, at least you used to– Gojo Satoru changed that.

Genre: Fluff to Angst

Warnings: Fluff to Angst (Heavy angst), language, Light JJK chapter 236 SPOILERS, character death, vague imagery of mutilation (nothing overly descriptive), reader has a nightmare, depictions of a dead body/corpse, mentions of pregnancy, themes of grief, (only at the end)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/n: I wrote this mainly as a fem reader, but it can also be read as afab since the reader's pronouns are never specified.

P.S. I know it looks like someone needs to stop me from thinking of ways to write angst for Gojo after reading chapter 236...but that's only because someone needs to stop me from thinking of ways to write angst for Gojo after reading chapter 236!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Black."

"Black?!"

"Yes, what is that unusual?"

"No, it's just...how can you drink that?"

"I put it to my lips, and I ju-"

"I understand how the function of drinking works. I mean, how can you drink something so...bitter."

Satoru's question was more of a statement than a question, as he cringed at the thought of consuming such a bitter beverage. You and Gojo had been dating for a few months and were still getting to know each other, exploring your interests, preferences, likes and dislikes...tastes in coffee.

"Alright, how should I be drinking it?" you questioned, smiling as you watched him think before perking up as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head.

"You wanna go on a coffee date?" Gojo asked, smirking as he did so.

"Don't you think that's a little cliché?" you responded, quirking a brow at him.

"Nothing can be cliché if it's with you, my dear."

You could only laugh at his witty comment, glancing over to see him wiggling his brows as he awaited your answer.

"Alright, fine! But for future reference, try to come up with better pick-up lines than that, or I can't see this relationship lasting long." You joked as you stood from the bleachers you had been seated on.

You watched as your boyfriend clutched his chest in faux hurt, letting a theatrical gasp as he gave you a pained look. You could only laugh at his dramatic behavior, shaking your head as you stepped towards him, bending down to kiss him on the cheek. Gojo sat there accepting your offer of affection but wasn't entirely satisfied. Before you could walk away, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down to give him a proper kiss before pulling away slightly.

"I'll meet up with you after class?" the second-year mumbled on your lips.

"If you even survive because I'm pretty sure you're late, and Yaga isn't going to be too keen on the explanation that your tardiness was due to you swapping spit with your girlfriend." you teased.

"We didn't even make out though."

"Try explaining that to Yaga," you knowingly stated.

Gojo knew you were right, sighing and cursing under his breath before standing, giving one last peck to your lips before running off, mumbling to himself as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse for his late arrival, something that would be somewhat justifiable to his instructor. You felt a warmth rise in your chest as you watched him make one last turn towards you, waving as he continued to make his way to his classroom. How did you manage to pull a guy like him? That question would forever remain a secret, but you wouldn't dwell on it– you would focus on whatever remaining time you had left with him.

"My head still hurts," Gojo murmured as he rubbed the tender spot on his scalp from where Yaga had bonked him.

"I told you," you teased in a sing-song tone, leaning towards him with a smug smile plastered on your face.

Your partner only shoved you away lightly as he tried to control the amused smile that began to grace his features before pausing. You hadn't noticed that Satoru had stopped until you turned to see he wasn't by your side anymore. You looked behind you to notice that he was staring at a display window. You couldn't see what was inside due to your current distance, but you could tell your boyfriend was definitely drawn to it.

"Is everything alright over there?" you called, tilting your head in curiosity as you stood in your current spot.

"How do you feel about going on that coffee date?" Satoru called back, looking over at you.

"Now?"

"Right now."

You hesitated for a moment, not feeling entirely comfortable going on a date in your uniform, but reasoned that it would be ridiculous to postpone a simple date based on your apparel– Satoru was still in his uniform, so why did it matter? With that internal debate out of mind, you walked toward your partner, taking his outstretched hand and walking into the coffee shop.

"You sit over there."

"Huh?" you were confused by your boyfriend's instruction, giving him a puzzled look.

"I'll go order the coffee and a few treats, don't worry, go sit over there and relax," Gojo explained, an overly enthusiastic smile plastered on his face for a guy who was going to simply put in an order for 'coffee and a few treats.'

You gave the fellow shaman a look of suspicion before walking over to a clean table, taking a seat, and watching the tall individual walk toward the counter. You couldn't hear what he had ordered due to his almost hushed tone as he spoke to the barista behind the counter. You waited a short while before being presented with your companion and all the items he had purchased.

Before you could say anything, Gojo slid one of the cups toward you, presenting it as your coffee before pulling back and staring at you. Your eyes flitted from the cup back to him a few times, feeling apprehensive as he persisted in staring at you. His awaiting gaze was a little unsettling at this point.

"What did you do to it?" you asked, pushing the beverage away.

"Nothing, just take a sip," the eager-looking individual insisted as he slid the cup back to you.

"You didn't do anything weird to this, did you? Didn't poison it or anything? I don't want to be the victim of a crime of passion case."

"No, I didn't do anything weird to it. Also, if I were to kill you, I wouldn't poison you– that would be boring," Your boyfriend answered.

"How reassuring," you stated, taking a deep breath before looking at the cup sitting idly, "Here goes nothing."

After collecting all your courage, you lifted the cup so that the rim rested on your lips, taking one last look at Satoru before taking a sip. The sweetness and thickness of the drink hit you unexpectedly, causing you to choke suddenly. You pulled the cup away from your mouth, grabbing a napkin to cough into as you registered what had happened.

"Are you okay?" Satoru spoke, trying to hide his laughter– he was failing miserably at that.

"Yeah," you sputtered, "What the hell did you put in that coffee?"

"Technically, I didn't put anything in that coffee; the barista did," your companion corrected.

"Alright, smart aleck, what did you tell the barista to put in that?" you responded, grabbing another napkin to wipe at your mouth, slowly catching your breath from the initial shock.

"Relax, I just asked her to add creamer and a few packs of sugar."

"How much do you consider is a few?"

"Uhhhh... so how was it?" Gojo redirected, deciding not to answer that question.

"It was definitely a shock," you sarcastically answered as you glared at your boyfriend.

"It couldn't have been that bad. Come on, just give it one more try, pretty please," Satoru pleaded, looking at you through his snowy eyelashes, batting them innocently.

You sighed, giving in to him begrudgingly as you brought the beverage back to your lips, pushing your hesitance to the side as you took a sip. You let the flavors rest on your tongue, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and brew combined with the thickness of the creamer that also enhanced the sweetness. The drink wasn't your preference, but you couldn't admit it was entirely dissatisfactory. If you had been the one who controlled how much sugar and creamer was added, it may have been more to your liking.

"Soooo?" your partner drew, waiting for an answer he would be satisfied with.

"It's alright, a little sweet for my liking, but it isn't god awful," you admitted, "next time, I would balance out the sugar and creamer ratio."

"So you're saying there is a next time?" Satoru teased, raising a smug brow.

You had the urge to punch the cockiness off of that ever-so-handsome face of his but decided against it as you leaned over the table and pecked his lips, catching him by surprise.

"Yeah, there is a next time."

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/n."

You hung up the phone, setting the device down on the nearby table as you stood in place, looking out the window, repeating the apologetic statement in your mind. What was the point of apologizing for such a loss– it won't bring anyone back; it won't mend your broken heart; it won't resolve the fact that you're standing here rubbing at your stomach, knowing that you were about to conceive a child without a father figure present, which you only figured both out recently.

You fiddled with the silver band around your ring finger before slowly sliding it off and placing it on the table next to your discarded phone. Your legs felt weak as you only stood there, staring at the window, not even looking at the lovely scenery beyond the pane– you only stared at the glass barrier that separated you from the outside world. There was a slight quiver in your breath as the events of your life played in your head. All the firsts you had with the man, all the important events you shared with him, all the tender moments. From the day you met to the day you eloped with him.

This was another day to add to your memory.

The day you created a life and the day you lost a life.

You stood there unmoving and noiseless until someone came and escorted you to your room, saying you should rest. Laying in your bed felt like torture that night, and every night after that– it was a constant reminder that you were now a widow, that you had lost your lover. When you would dream, you would dream of him, but those dreams quickly turned into nightmares. The images were vivid, as you imagined your lover's mangled body, surrounded by his own blood that had turned cold with time. Your heart would hammer against your ribs, and your breathing would grow heavy as if someone was sitting on your chest. A ringing sound could be heard the longer you looked at his corpse, crescendoing as your gaze took in every detail of the horrific sight before you.

And then you'd wake up to the sound of your own alarm.

You gasped as you sat up, waking up in a cold sweat, goosebumps littering your skin. You looked at your phone, seeing it was past the original time set, meaning you had slept through the initial alarm. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you sat there, looking at the empty side of your bed blankly; however, before you could dwell on the situation, your phone went off. You quickly reached over and looked at the caller ID, seeing Shoko's name illuminating on the screen.

"Hello," you groggily asked, not having the energy for your usual friendly greeting.

"Hey, are you sure you want to do this?"

You were puzzled by her question, but when you pulled your phone away in confusion, you noticed the date and what that meant.

"Yeah," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright, see you soon then..." a pause as you were about to hang up, your finger hovering over the red button, "Hey, Y/n, if I had the power to bring him back, I would...even if he was an idiot. I just wish I had that kind of power."

"Hey Shoko, it's alright. I need to get ready, but I'll see you soon," you reassured her, knowing that your husband's death was just as painful for her as it was for you.

"Right, see you soon."

With that, you used what little energy you had to press the red button and stand, heading to your bathroom to freshen up. Walking up to the mirror, you could see how disheveled you were– it was frankly ridiculous– seeing your messy hair and your sloppy choice of clothing. You scoffed as you looked at yourself, disappointed in how you let yourself go because you knew Satoru wouldn't have wanted this for you, especially in your circumstances.

You took a deep breath before exhaling, trying to push your emotions aside so you would be able to accomplish the basic necessity of taking care of yourself. This was the daily morning routine currently, waking up a sweaty mess from your night terrors before cleaning yourself to look as tidy as possible. If somebody were to ask someone close to you how you were doing, they would say you were handling it well, complimenting you on how strong you were being. Although, those people only saw you in broad daylight. When you were left in the solitude of your bedroom, you would let go of the strong composure, permitting yourself to slouch and remove the concealer from your undereye to reveal your eye bags, allowing yourself to remove the neutral expression from your face to reveal the cold, stoic one beneath it, which wasn't very flattering.

After a few hours, you stood on the border of Tokyo's Jujutsu High. It took every part of you to step past the barrier, but you managed to do it after shutting down every impulse to turn around and break for it. You walked the grounds, feeling unfamiliar with the surroundings, although you had walked through these halls more times than you could count. The atmosphere just wasn't the same.

"Over here," you heard a voice exclaim, turning to see it was Shoko, "I thought it would be best to meet up out here first."

You only nodded as you stood in front of her. The air was thick with tension as you both stood in silence. You distracted yourself by messing with the chain around your neck.

"You could always back out if you want to..." Shoko broke the silence, although in a hushed tone as if she were trying to preserve the stillness.

"I need to do this, Shoko."

The brunette looked at you hesitantly before nodding, gesturing for you to follow her. You walked through the cold hallway for about a minute before stopping in front of a door. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you stared down the hunk of metal, not knowing what to expect.

"He's already in there," Shoko spoke once more, placing a hand on your shoulder, "Look, you can leave whenever you are ready; you don't have to stay in there, and if you need me there at any point, do not hesitate to ask."

You only gave your friend a curt nod before walking through the door, letting the heavy metal shut behind you as you scanned the features of the lifeless room. It was nothing special, but if you happened to get locked in this room, you would probably go insane. Before you could distract yourself with ridiculous scenarios, you were struck with the reality of the situation as your eyes landed on the oddly shaped white cloth draped over the examination table.

Without even thinking, you approached the table, pausing just short of it as you examined the shape of the cloth. You sucked in a breath, holding it as you grabbed the corner of the fabric. There was a moment of hesitance as you gripped the material before pulling it back to reveal the lifeless face of Gojo Satoru, your beloved husband.

You didn't know what to do or say at the moment– I mean, what could you do or say when being met with your lover's cold body? However, you did have to breathe. You hadn't noticed, but when you began to feel the tightening in your chest, you remembered to allow breath into your lungs. Your dreams were nowhere accurate to the state of his current corpse, and you didn't know if you should have been disturbed or grateful for that. He wasn't horrifically mangled, but his lower half was no longer attached to his upper torso.

You looked into his cold, lifeless, blue eyes, the same eyes that used to gleam with mischief and pride. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was positively demolished at this stage. You brought your hand to hover just above his eyes before letting them touch his skin, moving them to force his eyes closed. Your hand rested there for a moment before moving to swipe away at the stray hairs that sat on his forehead.

Standing there, unmoving, you took a moment to look at your significant other, seeing his peaceful-looking expression, one you recognized from the mornings when he had successfully gotten a satisfying night of rest– now he's resting eternally; hopefully a peaceful one as your lover had always struggled with sleep. God, you wished he was just sleeping, that he would wake up and tell you it was all a sick joke, but you knew better– Satoru would never let you suffer like that. As you were about to back away and leave the room, starting to move your hands from the table, you felt something brush over your knuckles, causing you to lightly gasp.

You moved your gaze to look at what you unintentionally touched, revealing something that managed to cause your shattered heart to drop.

The sight of the ring on your lover's hand, the cold metal idly sitting on his unmoving finger.

You choked back a sob, a suppressed sound emitting from your throat as you took Satoru's limp hand, gripping it tight as your other hand found its way to his forehead, pushing back more strands of hair. You suppressed your cries as you bent down, closing your eyes, not having the heart to look at him like this anymore, as your quivering lips kissed his forehead. Your body silently shook as you continued to contain your sobs, tears escaping your eyes as you slipped the ring off his finger, placing it in your pocket.

You were in that position for some time before finally pulling away and walking out of the room before you could look at his dull state and linger any longer. Upon stepping out of the room, you were greeted by Shoko's gaze of pity– it sickened you. The last thing you wanted was to be pitied, but in predicaments such as these, you had no choice but to be pitied. So, if you were to be pitied anyway, what was the point of hiding the underlying issue?

"I'm pregnant," you blurted, watching Shoko's face drop.

"Y/n, I didn't even know, I would have never-"

You cut off Shoko as she attempted an apology for something out of her control, "How could you have known? I for sure as hell didn't until a few minutes before I got the call that my husband was dead," you weakly smiled, "At least I'll always have a part of him with me, right?" your voice shook as you sarcastically asked that question, allowing more tears to spill.

"Y/n, I-"

"Please don't apologize, Shoko. It isn't your fault that things ended up so shitty," you reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Look, I'm getting too tired considering that it's still early in the day, so I'm gonna grab a coffee, you could join me if you'd like," you offered, shrugging your shoulders as you wiped at your tears.

"Y/n, I wish I could, but I have to..." Shoko trailed as she chose her words carefully, "I need to work with him."

You gave the doctor an understanding nod, waving goodbye as you made your leave from the school. Leaving the isolated school to the city was almost refreshing as there were plenty of things to distract you from the reality of your predicament. To some, the walk may have been boisterous and annoying, but for you, it was calming and relaxing to be fixated on mundane things that didn't affect you.

That didn't last long.

Your feet stopped moving due to muscle memory of your route to your current location. You looked up to see the usual coffee joint you visited– the same one where Satoru had taken you for your first coffee date. You smiled for a moment due to the nostalgia; however, it faded quickly, remembering you weren't visiting with your usual partner. Despite the upsetting realization, you managed to hold your composure, fiddling with the chain around your neck before pulling it out from beneath your shirt, watching your wedding ring dangle from the delicate item. You took in a shuddering breath as you pulled your spouse's ring from your pocket, taking your time in slipping the metal band onto the chain to dangle next to yours before placing the necklace back around your neck, tucking it underneath your shirt once more.

"Y/n, is that you? It's been quite a bit. For a moment, I thought you found a new spot to lounge at," one of the familiar baristas chuckled before halting her laughter to look at the area around you, "Satoru isn't with you today?"

You sucked in a breath before plastering a smile onto your face and replying simply, "No."

"I see. I'll get you your usual then?" the barista asked, ready to turn away and prepare your drink before you stopped her.

"No, today I'd like it black, a plain dark roast," you replied.

A bitter drink for a bitter situation.

"Oh, alright then."

You could hear the hesitance linger in the barista's voice as she walked to the machine. It only took a couple minutes for the girl to prepare your simple order before handing it to you. Thanking the young woman, you bent down to pull some cash from your purse, coming up to see a stunned expression as she looked at your chest. Without thinking, you quickly looked down to be met with the sight of your necklace and the two rings dangling from it. Before the worker could speak, you placed the money on the counter and walked over to an isolated table– conveniently enough, it was the same table you and your husband would sit at, the one you always sat at since your first visit to this cafe.

"Yuck, how do you drink this Mommy?"

"Well, it's simple dear, you just bring the cups to your lips and-"

"I know how to drink, Mommy, but how can you drink something so icky?"

The mother lightly chuckled.

"Well, how would you have made it?"

"Hmmm...Here! Try my hot cocoa, Mommy! It is much better than that yucky drink."

"Oh, I bet it is, Sweetie."

You could hear them smiling as the mother-daughter pair giggled, enjoying their shared time, reminding you of a similar moment you shared with your lover– you were happy for them, nevertheless. Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a whiff of the dark brew, letting the scent linger for a while before taking a sip. The rich taste was almost foreign but satisfying nonetheless, at least that is what you told yourself as you slumped in your chair.

The room went eerily quiet as eyes were drawn to your form, watching as you cried into your beverage. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed breathily, putting the cup onto the table to cover your mouth to muffle your soft cries, your other hand placed gently on your stomach. You knew that they were looking at you, that you were causing a scene– it was embarrassing, but you didn't care. You had the right to grieve because god...

That coffee was so fucking bitter.

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