Ataraxia 平静 | Gojo Satoru

-'๑'-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝟕-'๑'-

I awoke to the sharp scent of antiseptic mingled with a faint trace of cigarette smoke and sanitizer. My eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust to the dim light filtering through the half-drawn curtains of the infirmary.

What time was it?

The steady beeping of a heart monitor beside my bed was the first concrete sound I registered, each beep a gentle reminder of something I had almost doubted—I was still alive.

Blinking, I tried to clear my vision, and slowly the room came into focus. Shoko was leaning against the windowsill, a cigarette between her fingers and a clean bandage around her throat. Her eyes widened as she saw me stir, and she quickly stubbed out the cigarette in a makeshift ashtray before rushing to my side.

"Yue," she said, her voice softened by relief. "You've been out for two days. How do you feel?"

I tried to speak, but my throat felt like sandpaper. I managed a weak nod, my eyes darting around the room in search of familiar faces. My body ached, my movements stiff from the time spent abed.

"Here, drink some water," Shoko said, grabbing a cup from the bedside table and holding it to my lips. The cool liquid was a balm, easing the dryness and allowing me to find my voice.

"You're alright. What happened?" I croaked, my mind a foggy mess of fragmented memories.

Shoko's expression softened, and she took a seat on the edge of the bed, cradling my legs. "You lost a lot of blood trying to heal Suguru. It was a close call, but you're both going to be fine."

"Suguru. . ." My eyes widened, memories rushing back in a torrent. "And Yuji? What about you? I remember you were out cold after—"

"Everyone's recovering," Shoko assured me quickly. "Thanks to you, Suguru lives another day to cry when I steal his shampoo bottles," she chuckled.

Relief washed over me, and I let out a shaky breath, gripping her hand. Before I could ask more, the door creaked open, and Gojo stepped into the room, his usual confident demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Shoko, I need to—" Gojo's words trailed off as he peeled his eyes away from his phone, gaze falling on me. His expression softened instantly, concern flooding his features. "You're awake."

I managed a faint smile. "Hey."

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, his intense gaze scanning my face as if to assure himself I was truly alright. "You gave us quite a scare," he murmured, his voice a little hoarse.

He was wearing his uniform, jacket messily unbuttoned. His dark eyeglasses were perched atop his head, revealing tired eyes and holding back his unruly mane of white hair. I'd seen him like this before—serious yet crinkled clothes, indifferent smile—he hadn't been sleeping.

Shoko stood, giving Gojo a nod. "I'll give you two a moment. But Pebble, take it easy. You're still healing." With that, she left the room, leaving Gojo and me alone.

Take it easy? I wanted to echo her words, but she was already gone.

He took Shoko's place on the edge of the bed, his usually bright eyes shadowed. "You really know how to keep things interesting, don't you?" he said, attempting a light-hearted tone that didn't quite mask his worry.

I reached out, my fingers brushing his hand. "I had to save him, Gojo. I couldn't just. . . do nothing."

He sighed, his thumb hesitantly tracing the back of my palm. "Well, you did quite the opposite of nothing."

I quirked a brow. "Why do you sound pissed? I know it was risky—"

"Which part, exactly?" He inclined his head. "When you summoned the King of Curses in the living room, gambled with two of the most powerful cursed objects in our possession, or when you cut your veins open and sprinkled over Suguru like a fountain—"