Chapter Text
Birds fluttered and chirped on cherry trees outside. The branches were thick and full of blossoming petals, full of pink, beautiful life. The sun gleamed into the windows within the campus like a lantern of sparkles. The red archway gate beyond the veil of the school stood tall, even with the decimation of the front section of the place. The only platform that remained covered in blood, torn robes and white hair.
One boy trudged through the empty halls, elevated and high. His eyes were wide, shining ominously like lamps through the darkness. The world out there was so bright, and the world in here felt so dark. The darkness here was illuminated by the radiating power and beauty of his blood-stained teenager, poetically entranced into the shadows of the school like a ghost. His hair was a mixture of soft, fluffy white strands and dirtier knots soaked in blood. He looked monstrous but beautiful, and every emotion ran through his mind at once.
True Unattainable Power felt hollow and underwhelming.
Yet, as he passed through into the labyrinth with his eyes glimmering through the dark halls, he felt sick in his stomach. The wound under his hair was no longer present, and he felt elevated from the understanding he had of cursed energy as a whole. Never before had he felt so wonderfully alive and powerful. He’s stared death right in its ugly jaws and comes out just as strong. Something that he, as the strongest beforehand, never would have thought possible. He had grazed the gap between the angel's realm and oblivion, taken a seat on their very council overlooking the mortal world for all who passed and all who came to be. He had BEEN there at the end of life and death, yet been pulled back by the anchor of his own power.
He was divine.
So why must he feel such dread in his moment of awakening and glory?
His body stopped.
He stood in a large hall, expecting to see stars. Somehow, in some way, he believed things had gone terribly wrong. His eyes wandered over the place, seeing the halls from above in pieces, crashed along the grass. The walls and floors were splintered all over, and cursed energy laced the area. He could see the purple blood of spirits who had been slain.
Yet one thing caught his eye.
By the floor leading up to where one of the stairwells should be, was a dirty smear of blood. Just a few feet further, a shiny lead bullet.
His footsteps echoed as he walked towards it. His hand touched it as he breathed heavily.
“Amanai….”.
This was her.
Moreover, it was the blood from her head. She was dead. The girl he had to protect was dead. The star plasma vessel was...dead.
And since she had been accompanied by him, that meant…
He heard it. The groaning. His head turned to a pile of rubble, as he saw a hand trying to dig out. Within an instant, he moved faster than he ever could have, determined to lift that hand out.
The arm was his. But on closer look, it was a tinge bluish. The cursed energy of the weird creature he pulled up was immense, and the only thing he could verify of him was those black eyes.
“S….” He stammered, dropping the Curse. It scurried along, out of sight.
But not out of mind.
“Su….”.
He fell to his knees. He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t. His best friend was NOT dead. He couldn’t have become that curse. His awakened high made concentrating so difficult, and he couldn’t get a single coherent thought through his skull.
“Suguru…”.
His legs slumped on the grass as he stared. Stared at the ruins of the rubble and wreckage. Stared at the sprays of purple blood. Stared at the single smear of Amanai’s blood on the floor.
He was the strongest. He had looked death in a staring contest and won. His injuries had fully healed, and his understanding of cursed energy was so complete and renewed. Like he had been reborn. A step beyond the limits he always had, since he could now use The Reverse Curse Technique. In all senses of the word, he’d become more powerful and aware than almost any being alive right then. His head felt numb from the overwhelming sensations, now a much clearer mixing of hate, joy and despair.
Yet he failed. Failed to take down Toji. Failed to save Amanai. Failed to have the merger of The Star Plasma Vessel and Tengen.
Failed to save Suguru.
How stupidly ironic. He was now the strongest, undisputed. Nobody could ever hope to reach his level.
But he’d gotten this high too late.
He’d become something greater than everyone else, and it was after the storm had passed and he had lost. Like patching holes in a ship after it had begun to sink. His blue eyes shimmered in the darkness, as he gripped his forehead. Feeling the bump where that damn cursed tool had hit him, and where he had first used Reversed Curse Technique in his lowest moment of life.
He had won but lost.
He had failed.
All he could do was blink rapidly blinks in the wreck.
All he could do was sit like a fucking fool.
All he could do was allow the sensation to sink into his heart, his mind and his soul. That he was one thing above all right now.
Gojo Satoru. The absolute pinnacle of failure.
…
Satoru felt a chill as he walked along the open pathways. His eyes shimmered and though he felt the exponential high and euphoria of his newfound understanding of cursed energy and his technique, he had the deepest pit of shame and regret in his stomach. He couldn’t be happy because, thanks to his weakness, Riko Amanai was gone and dead, her head probably full with a bullet-sized hole and her body on display in one of those star religious group places.
Thanks to his weakness, he had failed.
The Strongest. How disgusting a title it felt. So strong he was untouchable, yet he wasn’t able to save anyone. The strength meant nothing to him because it always repeated in his skull that one disgusting and painful truth:
He had failed.
His eyes glanced forward, spotting what could only be described as a dark-haired Korean man in a business suit and two items in his hands. The first was a professional suitcase. The other was a duffel bag.
His eyes recognized the tufts of dark blue hair and white hair band, coated lightly in smears of blood.
“You….” He mumbled, as his body moved before he thought. One of his hands lifted up, the lapse of his technique activating so quickly that the guy's face just flew into his palm. The bag he held fell to the floor, confirming that it was her in there.
CRUNCH!!!
The force was immense. His blue eyes stared down at the guy as he tried to grapple himself free, his jaw broken and blood dripping down the back of Satoru's hand. He let out a muffled scream, clawing his nails into the boy's perfect and once flawless skin.
It wasn’t his fault. He was a collector of the body. His death would be a pointless murder, and would only offer slight satisfaction for what had happened.
Gojo Satoru did not care.
He needed something to take his confusion and agony on.
He needed an outlet.
“Curse Technique Amplification…” He muttered as he threw the guy up. A small blue orb followed the guide of his throw, sticking to the poor fool’s gut as he stomped on the ground, sending a wave of debris up into the air.
"Lapse Blue. ".
“W…Wait….If you want Toji, he was just here!!! He just left, I swear!!!” The guy yelled in fear as he was pulled up into the centre of the swirling mass, rock and rubble crushing his chest. Dirt flew into his mouth, silencing his words.
Whatever pleasure or relief Gojo could feel about this outlet was gone, replaced with a sting. Not only was this death a pointless one, but now he had missed his chance to maybe make up for his mistakes.
In another world, Satoru Gojo came here for some reason. In another world, Satoru Gojo would have killed Toji Fushiguro. He knew there was a chance for him to test something new out, and that bastard was the perfect guy to do it with.
In another world, at least his strength would do something with a point today.
He waved his hand in disgust, not even looking at the man in his bulging, pulling eyes.
“Lapse Blue.”.
The effect was immediate. The poor fool screamed as huge swaths of rock soared up at him, crushing his whole body. Blood splattered through the gaps, staining Gojo’s shirt and hair and making the area have an abundance of ugly red markings. The shimmering blue light extended beyond the physical matter and encased it. Shining as bright as his Six Eyes.
His fist crushed into a ball, and the whole orb was condensed down into nothing. All boiled down into a flickering, pulsing orb of light about a few centimetres cubed.
“Suguru….” He sadly mumbled with disgrace and shame. His fist let go, causing the orb to disappear. It sent out one final flash of light. Beautiful light, like that of a gentle star, and as dazzling as a stage lamp. The stage lamp on him, with the world as his stage. The crowd was clapping and cheering his name.
His eyes gazed down at Amanai’s body under the light. Her head was covered in bandages stained with blood, and her eyes were shut. Everything he could fear when he saw her was realised. The fact that she did not breathe. The fact that she did not move. The very fact that the cursed energy around them would not pass through her, as if she were an inanimate object.
How ironic. He was the star Sorcerer of the Jujutsu Society. The greatest being alive. The one in a million chance with both the Six Eyes and The Limitless to have been born, since the Edo Era. He, and he alone, held the title of The Strongest undisputed.
Yet he failed.
He failed to save her. That meant the merger wouldn’t happen and it was all because of him. He and his stupidity to be tricked by Toji and put down, then taking so long to fucking recover.
He failed to save Suguru. Poor guy was killed and was probably a curse by now. And as a Jujutsu sorcerer, they’d expect HE, Satoru Gojo, to kill him.
Why was he still a sorcerer?
He failed to stop Toji. The guy was here just minutes ago. If he had arrived sooner, he might have actually got the guy. If he hadn’t moped and wallowed in the idea that his best friend was dead, then maybe he could have captured him. Hell, maybe he would have even killed that….that….
There was no word for what to call him. He wanted to say something in a note of his disgust, but nothing could come. He didn’t have anybody he ever hated before. The weak were just that to him when he was a cocky little prick who thought he was untouchable. Weak. Sortta there, but merely in the background.
Why was he doing this? Why did he murder that businessman? Why did he even come back from the jaws of death?
The light faded as he stared into the sky. His blood boiled, and he felt a tear run down his cheek as all the events of the past 24 hours set in, within minutes. His first actual proper tear he got to have since....since he was a damn baby, dear god. The high he had gotten from his understanding of The Reverse Curse Technique, and by extension, Cursed Energy itself, had worn off. Leaving him feeling dry and empty, as his despair wallowed in his stomach like dying flames.
Why?
He was the strongest. Yet, at that moment, he felt like the weakest and most pathetic being alive.
Why!?
All because of that…..that….
WHY!?
He gritted his teeth as one word escaped his lips in a cold, broken whisper.
“Cockroach.”.
…
The black-haired man stepped through the hall, rubbing his eyes in discomfort. He could hear bountiful clapping behind those double oakwood doors, so perhaps this was the correct place. He’d been to four of five of these places by now, and hoped this one would be where the funeral was held. If not, this would become another waste of his damn time, and he didn’t have much energy left. Moreover, he needed to desperately find Satoru since the guy had disappeared from where they had seen him in the school grounds, apparently dead.
Opening the doors, his black eyes hit the light, as thunderous applause echoed through the entire building. He knew THIS had to be the right place as the people were here. Wearing white garments for a funeral, but they were clapping and cheering. It made the atmosphere feel happy, and he did not know why. He didn't understand this fucking Star Religious Group cult thing, or how they were so content to clap and smile in celebration.
Celebration of a child's death no less. It made every cursed spirit he had in his gut rattle with his wrath. He wanted the clapping and joy to shut up, so that the girl in here could be mourned like a normal person and not celebrated like her death was a crowning achievement. One of his hands lifted, shaking and ready to just let out a curse and scare them down. A dosage of intense fear to make them all shut up. Just to please, shut up!!!
But then his eyes met those blue ones.
Standing there. Holding the body in sheets of white cloth. His hair and shirt were stained with blood. His blue eyes glimmered in the funeral’s bright lights, making them appear angelic and cool, and he looked the calmest he had ever been.
Upon seeing each other, both boy's eyes widened. Gojo's grip loosened, and he looked white as a ghost when he saw Geto, so Amanai's body fell down.
Suguru Geto caught her precious form before it struck the ground for the second time that day. His face moved up, staring at his old friend. His heart filled with joy and hope.
Gojo was alive.
Gojo was okay.
Gojo was here.
“Satoru!” He proclaimed in delight as he held the body up with care. His lips curled in a smile, and hope filled his heart that the one possibility he hoped for was true.
Gojo couldn’t die. He was the strongest, and Geto knew that. He knew, deep down, that his greatest friend could and would pull through. His eyes beamed with such light as the chorus of applause echoed throughout, and he felt all his doubts and agony wash away at seeing one of the few people he could call a great guy still standing.
He would always stand.
Even as the apparent shock the white haired boy had to seeing the black haired one wore off, he didn't smile back. He looked....hollow.
“Oh. You're alive, Suguru?” Gojo responded, voice dry and dead. Geto was confused, and he looked at him in an odd way. Why did he sound so…saddened? So…hopeless and distraught?
And why did he say Geto was alive like that was a question?
“I guess that's alright." He choked, voice shaky and eyes twitching. "At least you....you didn't die in the star corridor. Or...Or become....a curse.".
Geto reeled at the revelation that his best friend thought HE had become a curse. The idea stung like poison and salt on a wound. His fingers itched to reach out and hug the man. Satoru didn't look okay in the slightest, something he could discern would spell doom for everyone, given how strong he was.
And right now, the man felt strong. His cursed energy hummed through the air like electrified water, buzzing and cool, but now with an added heat mixed in. His eyes shimmered brightly, even though the gaze behind them was empty. The fingers clenched the corpse with delicate care, so as not to hurt her.
"I feel so much right now, Suguru." He continued, a flash of something dangerous spilling across his pupils. "I hate myself, because I couldn't even catch that damn sorcerer killer. I hate these bugs, clapping and celebrating Amanai's murder. I hate everything so much it hurts to think.
I hate all these....cockroaches.".
That word out of his mouth sounded like venom. It was full of hatred and agony all at once. A maelstrom of negative emotions, to the point where if he didn't know how to control cursed energy, he might actually have created a brand new special grade curse then and there.
“Satoru…” Geto muttered, deeply hurt and afraid for his friend. He shook with concern, reaching out to the other man with wary fingers.
Gojo didn't move, holding Amanai with trembling hands.
“Suguru.” Gojo began, taking a deep sigh. The crowds cheered and smiled, but he only looked at his friend, with his dry, shimmering blue eyes.
"Should I kill everyone here?" He asked, taking his friend off mental balance. "If I dirtied my hands with their disgusting blood, nothing would change. I wouldn't feel any different.".
"Huh?".
The white haired man moved past him, allowing his eyes to gaze upon the masses. Their white clothes shone in the gracious light, and their smiles lit up with sparkles. The clapping echoed through the hall, growing louder and louder for him.
"No." He responded, feeling his heart twist in a weird, painful sensation. "All the leaders would have fled by now, and the organisation will disband soon enough. Killing them would make us curse users for no reason. There isn't a point to it.".
He felt sick. He felt wilted.
"No point," huh?".
Glancing back, he saw the ethereal glow of those eyes and felt an immense wave of fear.
"The strong have to protect the weak, as you said." Gojo murmured, facing the door. "We have to try to look out for them, care for them, and keep them safe.".
Geto looked back at the crowd. Both he and Satoru were back-to-back, and he could only see the celebrating cultists in the glow of the light. Their forms and figures melded into masses of tall, standing creatures with glowing smiles on their faces.
They all looked so much like each other. A group, rather than individuals.
"And yet they cheer for our failures, Suguru. These people don't know the things we go through: Our struggle, our woes, our burdens." He continued, his steps to the door slow and uncertain. "If anything, they should face punishment. They caused our suffering today.".
The applause echoed like light thunder in the black haired man's ears. The image of Amanai on the floor with a hole in her head and blood smearing the ground beside her streaked through his mind like a strobe light.
"That isn't right, Satoru." He responded, clenching his fist and digging his nails into the skin of his palm, drawing blood. "They don't know any better.".
"So they're ignorant then." Gojo retorted. "In that case, they'll do something like this again. Why shouldn't we just kill them now? Before they start giving us more problems?".
"Because it's wrong." He said, a bitter note in his voice. This felt like an argument, not a conversation. "We have a duty to protect the weak. It's our sworn duty. We have to.".
Gojo didn't say a word.
"If we kill them, that's pointless blood spilt. If we want to prevent something like this, we can look for the signs of it happening, sure, but killing them after Amanai's dead and the sorcerer killer has fled won't bring us justice." Suguru continued, his voice growing more determined and unstable. "We need to protect others. We have to fight for their favour, even in times like this. We signed ourselves up to save people. Even these people.".
No reply was given from the white haired man.
"If we give up on these people here, we might give up on others later. We have to ensure we abide by our duty, no matter what." He kept saying, becoming more frantic and pleading as each word escaped his lips. "Letting one bad day like this define whether we protect them or not is the coward's way out.".
The applause grew louder. The smiles remained pure. The love and hope in the air at the murder of a child poisoned every sense of his mind like blood in a river.
"We have to protect them.".
It sounded less like he was trying to convince the other man.
"We have to save them.".
And more like he was trying to convince...
"We need to keep those weaker than us safe-".
Himself.
"Suguru.".
Geto stopped mid-sentence. His fingers slipped out of his palm, nail tainted by drops of blood and muscles shaking. He breathed out heavily, having not breathed properly for a few moments. The sounds of the applause faded when he heard his name being spoken.
"You don't need to say anything else." The other man muttered. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's go home.".
Suguru opened his mouth, wanting to desperately say something more. He felt like pleading for something he didn't know, something he didn't understand.
He wanted to say something right now, but couldn't.
The clapping echoed like a looping track in his mind. It made it hurt to think because everything he could say just looped back to the same question.
"Why?".
"C'mon, Suguru." Gojo repeated, tugging his shoulder. The fritz of infinity was absent, and that cool sensation of the white haired boy's cursed energy hung ambiently around like water stuck to his jacket and hair. "We're going home.".
After a few more moments of thinking, endless streams of pointless, mind-numbing thoughts and listening to the applause, he gave in.
"Okay.".
He turned, moving over to his friend's side, heading out through those dark doors with him. Both boys were dirty with wounds, weighed down by fatigue and haunted by their failure. Neither wanted to say a word. Neither looked at the other.
The silence stuck like bitter miso paste. It crawled into the gaps of the applause as they walked away from the hall, leaving the masses of celebrating cult members behind. The echoes of their footsteps seemed to radiate across the endless space and reflect back to them.
This was wrong. This was cruelty.
Amanai had a chance between life, and being erased. She chose life.
She still died. There wasn't even a point to her death now.
There wasn't a point to the time they'd spent bringing her here. All either of them brought her was death.
There wasn't a point to the fight against Toji. He was long gone and impossible to find.
There wasn't a point to anything. No reason for them to do anything right now. No reason to find justice or hope. No reason to look on, because Tengen might just go batshit without the merger.
No reason. No purpose.
No point.
"Who are we doing this for?" Geto thought.
A voice cut through the air before he could even begin to think over that day's events again.
"I'm sorry.".
His eyes flashed, shooting over to his best friend.
"I'm sorry, Suguru." Gojo murmured, cheeks wet with water. His fingers clammily held Amanai's body like glass, afraid to drop her.
Afraid to let her down once again.
"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stop him." He apologised. "I'm sorry I let my gaurd down. I'm sorry I didn't wake up in time to help you. I...I...I'm sorry, I was too busy sitting in that stupid corridor, mourning you for no reason, and letting that bastard get away.
I'm...I'm....I'm sorry, Suguru. For everything that happened today.".
Again, silence swallowed them. Suguru still couldn't speak, his tongue dry as sandpaper.
He wasn't the best person for talking, something he'd always known. He didn't know how to handle issues or talk about bad things.
That was what Satoru could do.
That kind of sweetness could be expected from Satoru, not him.
That kind of love and care for others was something Satoru was good at, not him.
And yet, he had to say something. Anything.
"It's not your fault." He replied, his hands taking Amanai. He found resistance from the albino-haired boy as he carried the body, feeling its weight in his arms. Strands of her hair slipped down from the white sheet she had been wrapped up in, trailing down his arm. "Trust me, you're not fully responsible for what happened today. If anything, I am.".
The six eyes slowed down when his friend spoke, wiping his eyes with his hand.
"I was there, Satoru." Suguru admitted, swallowing back the bile brewing in his throat. "I gave her my hand, and I promised her that you and I would get her out of here. She chose to not want to merge, Satoru.".
He blinked. A cough escaped his lips, and pain shot through his skull.
"She chose?" He asked, finally speaking in a tone other than that dead, haunted boy. "She chose not to merge?".
"Yeah, she chose." He repeated, slowing down himself. His eyes looked down at the body he held with immense sadness. "And I told her that you and I are the strongest, so she could live a normal life. I told her we would be there for her. That we would....We would keep her safe.".
Satoru felt his stomach twist as his best friend shook. Even in his most pained state, with the memory of every accumulating failure of this mission, he could see something was wrong.
Things had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Worse than he had imagined.
"I...I was so focused on the happiness her smile showed." He breathed, leaning against the wall. His lips quivered and his fingers clutched her body tight, afraid of letting her down again. "I didn't.....I didn't even hear the gunshot."
He staggered, leaning against the wall with strife. His breathing became faster, and his eyes watered as he stared down at Riko's corpse.
"I didn't even know what happened till she hit the ground. I didn't realise she had died until he came in." He said, speaking with poison in his lungs. "I couldn't save her. I couldn't give her the life promised to her. Hell, I couldn't even stop that fucker.
Everything was pointless. Her coming here for the merger was pointless. Me fighting that bastard was pointless.".
His tears ran dirty on his face as he gasped, clutching the body close like she could hurt any further.
"Telling you not to kill all those fucking cultists is pointless.".
The applause echoed in his skull. The sound of the gunshot, and the thuds of those heavy footsteps echoed in his skull.
Her final, grateful, thankful smile peered through the images of his memory, right as the sheet slipped down to reveal her still and lifeless face.
That made him lose it.
"There's no point." He wept, burying his face into the cloth. His legs gave way as he slid down. His sobs echoed across the corridor like the wails of a curse. His arms held Amanai's body tight with fear and regret. "There's no point to any of this. No...No fucking point.".
Gojo slid down beside him, worried at his friend's state. His arms wrapped around the other boy while he pulled Amanai between them, her hair spilling against him.
"No, you're right." He murmured, letting him sob into the blood-stained shoulder of his jacket. "Killing them wouldn't bring us any justice. I'm sorry, Suguru.".
"She died." He wept, melting into the embrace like shaking butter. "She died, because I was too stupid to notice she was in danger. She died because of me.".
He scooted over, pushing Amanai's legs over him and pulling his best friend closer. A sick sensation, the first true feeling he had felt in a while, cemented itself into his bones with bitterness. His lungs and skull felt like ice as he comforted the man he had always been allied with.
"She...She died because of me, Sa-Satoru." He bawled, shaken to his core. The claps from the hall, just a good distance down the corridor, thundered in his head, making his guilt weigh ten times heavier. "I...I'm as responsible as..as...as them. I killed her more than...more than they killed her.".
"Suguru...Suguru no." Gojo reasoned, shaken by how fast his friend was shifting blame onto himself. "No, it's not-".
The dark-haired teen could only let out heart-wrenching sobs, adding another pull onto the bitter string in Satoru's heart. He held the other close, trying to get him to calm down. His cursed energy flickered like wildfire, overwhelming his six eyes with an ungodly, frantic and static-looking sensation within the hallway.
"You didn't kill here. Please, Suguru." He pleaded, wanting to help his friend. "Please stop blaming yourself.".
And Geto didn't even have a response. Just slow, withering sobs that echoed like a parent who had lost their kin, or a person who had been left for dead in a ditch. It was an ungodly, unrelenting sound, masking every inch of the walls with despair.
It caused Gojo to feel even shittier, more so than he had before. He held bitterness toward Toji and all those cockroaches in this building who celebrated Amanai's murder like it was a birthday. He had felt anguish and hatred toward himself for not being strong enough when it mattered.
Now he felt an ache. That's all he could describe it as. Ache for his grieving, shattered, mentally broken best friend that had witnessed the death of the girl they were tasked with protecting.
The sobbing died down, but Geto's cursed energy remained flaring and frazzled on the edges. His hands remained clammy, holding the upper half of Riko's body, and his fingers clutched her corpse so tight they were turning white. His face buried into his friend's shoulder as he shuddered, completely shaken and shattered by the past twenty-four hours' events.
And even when his sobs did die down, his body still shook uneasily. Even as his tears ceased and his grip on that poor girl loosened, his eyes still glimmered with that haunted, anguished look.
"It....It hurts." He murmured, feeling her hair stick to his neck like a wet tapestry. "It hurts that she....she smiled.".
"She'll be in a better place now." Satoru responded, staying close to his friend. Those shaky breaths could be felt on the Albino's cheek, and his arms made sure Amanai's body wasn't splayed crooked over the both of them.
"You think so?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet.
From the other end of the hall, the red gleam of sunset lit the entire place leading to the meeting hall in a deep scarlet glow. The light smeared across the walls like a sharp knife. It illuminated both of their bodies slumped together, battered and broken.
It highlighted the blood splatter out in the front from the guy Gojo had killed here.
"I don't know." He responded despondently. "Are you okay?".
Geto's head fell on the other boy's shoulder, his hair streaking into his neck. Across his chest, his uniform bore two identical slashes in intersecting lines. The cross was marked with blood, and bruising lined his neck underneath his chin.
Even with the evidence of Shoko's RCT, that cross still looked painful. It wasn't a shallow cut, nor was it an ordinary weapon. There was a trace residue of something truly terrifying lacing his robe like a malignant stain.
"I don't know.".
Gojo felt sick.
Gojo felt fear.
Gojo felt hate. He hated himself for being too weak to help when it mattered most. He hated himself for being unable to stop that bastard. He hated himself for waking up and reaching a new height of power when the battle was already lost.
He hated the cultists, who dared clap and applaud and cheer for the murder of a child. He hated how people like that could never see the sacrifices people like him or Suguru made, and would celebrate their failures. He hated how he was obligated to protect them when they threw him and his friend under the worst bus ever.
He hated those weaklings for their hope and celebration. He hated Toji for making them suffer and wrecking him. He hated himself because he didn't know what to do to help his best friend right now.
He hated....He hated....
Dead. Dead. Dead.
He hated cockroaches.