Cursed || Gojo Satoru x Reader

X. Infinite

POV: GOJO SATORU

Some nights, when my eyes are closed and my thoughts drift into the empty dark, I try to remember what I used to be. What, not who. I was never truly a person, simply a figurehead. I was unreachable, cast into the heavens for the world to gaze upon, to hear their endless hymns of glory, but never to be touched.

Humans are dependent on touch. At my core, I may not be a person but I am at least a human. A living being, soulless or not. And living creatures will always crave touch. They long to be caressed, to be dirtied by the soot of another's hands. There is something so very human about touch, something that makes them so much more real, and equal to another. To be touched is to be loved, to love is to share your soul.

When I think of her, I feel as though the world has been pulled from beneath my feet. No longer is my head in the clouds, or my feet on the hands of the weak. She unbalances me. She makes me her equal.

When I think of her, I wish for her to touch me. I want to feel her fingers on mine, interlaced in a foreign embrace. I no longer want to be in control- I want her to shape me with her hands as though I were a human made of clay. I want to be pieced together and be made whole.

But I know that time will only pass. My eyes drift towards the setting sun, it's rays sinking closer to the abyss. The light had long gone, the remainder of the sunset stained the sky with a faint crimson. I wonder if that will be the color that marks my hands when her execution is to come. I wonder how much longer I have with her.

Yet every time I think of her, the emotions that surge only tear me apart. I want to my heart from my chest, to never again hear its beating whenever I see her in my mind. Even now, as I walk away from her solitary figure in the dark, I can only see her. She makes me weak, but everyone needs me to be strong. Not strong, the strongest.

I had only ever been the strongest. From my conception until my death, I will remain as such.

As a child, I was never told to be wary. I never learned fear, or tasted the emotions that make humans weak. The silver spoon in the mouth of the wealthy became diamond in mine. Anything I touched was sacred, the words I spoke were holy. If I even glanced at a passerby, they would naturally recognize my strength.

As the others broke their brittle bones and persisted against time to better themselves, I was paraded about. Always accompanied by others, never once having a true thought of my own. I was spoon fed beliefs, fundamental truths. I no longer questioned the balance of the jujutsu world, or the meaning of my existence. I was fortunate to have a reason to be alive while others wasted away in their desperation to fend for themselves.

I remember seeing humans, their hands coarse and bloodied, their skin pulled tight, with blood and sweat rushing to their faces. They were grim, they yelled in agony. But in their pain, they blazed forward in a pathetic hope. Every day for a jujutsu sorcerer is a gamble. Some come to the table, winning a small number. Others seek glory, and lose it all. I am simply the moderator, the sole person at the table who is ensured a place the following night. I determine the roll of the dice and the shuffle of the cards. In the table of life, where many fall to despair and others triumph in success, I alone am always present.

Before I joined Jujutsu High, I simply knew who I would become. I knew of my predecessors, of the glories they had accomplished and the triumphs that were made known in their wake. I knew that I would only exceed their capacity and test the limits of humanity. I am the weaver of the truth, the holder of the world. I can touch what can't be touched and see what can't be seen. I alone am the gatekeeper to jujutsu, known to maintain balance and dispel curses.

But she exists. She exists and makes me unholy, impure, a false testimony of Infinity. Because of her, I may be as fragile as porcelain. To be painted and created with an exquisite purpose, only to break when I fall. Because of her, I cannot see the clouds. I cannot see the world beneath my feet. I cannot hear their hymns of glory or vows of everlasting loyalty.

I only hear her taunting whispers, her words that creep into my mind and contradict my truth. I feel her skin brush against mine, I feel Infinity shrink beneath her presence. There is an unsettling feeling when the dealer's techniques are revealed- when another person becomes their equal simply because they themselves had already mastered those skills. Now, I can see the curve of the mahogany table and my shaking fingers clutching the cards. She stands across from me with an ominous curve on her lips, her hands shield her cards cryptically. I know that my power is useless before her.

It is cold where I stand. The room is empty, stretching into shadows between us. And again I see myself in the sky, cracks forming beneath my feet. The wind is still silent, the lights of the world have been extinguished. Without their praise, I am just a man, destined to stand in the darkness.

     But I am not alone.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this chapter! Please remember to vote and comment if you liked it or have any advice :) I'm not officially back from the hiatus yet, but I had this chapter drafted a while back and thought I'd clean it up a little and polish it to celebrate (manga spoilers: Gojo's return)! Also, please be patient with the course of the story, I have it completely planned out but I've dedicated a few chapters to their mental states. I promise they will actually interact with each other in the next chapter ;)
~A