The Room Between
Jujutsu High was quiet.
The infirmary lights buzzed overhead, dull and cold. Somewhere down the hall, a nurse murmured instructions to a junior student. Outside, the rain had begun again—a slow drizzle tapping against the old glass.
Gojo sat beside the long bed where Kishibe lay motionless, his chest rising shallowly under the blankets. Tubes ran from his arms. Bandages covered his torso and neck. His face was pale. Alive, but just barely.
Shoko was asleep in the chair nearby, her head slumped on a stack of notes. Her gloves were stained. She hadn't left his side for hours. Cursed energy flared weakly from her fingertips, continuing to feed Kishibe through slow, pulsing infusions.
Geto stood behind Gojo, arms crossed, back resting against the wall. Neither of them spoke for a long while. The silence said enough.
When Kishibe had been brought in, Shoko had nearly screamed. Gojo remembered it—her expression frozen between panic and denial. It took both Yaga and Geto to pull her back to work.
Kishibe looked smaller now. As if the fight had carved something out of him and left the shell.
---
Between Two Friends
"You gonna talk?" Gojo asked, his voice hoarse.
Geto didn't look at him. "About what?"
"I don't know." Gojo rubbed his eyes. "Anything. Everything. Why we're still alive. Why she isn't."
Geto exhaled. "Do you think we failed?"
Gojo didn't answer right away. His eyes remained locked on Kishibe.
"I think," he said finally, "we weren't enough."
Geto pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "You were enough. You killed him."
"After he killed Riko."
"You saved Kishibe."
"Barely."
"We did our jobs," Geto said, though it sounded hollow. "We followed orders."
Gojo looked up at him, slowly. "Then why does it feel like we lost?"
Geto didn't have an answer. He stared down at his hands, still stained with dried blood—Riko's, his own, Kishibe's.
"We lost something more important than the mission."
---
Geto's Fracture
They moved into the corridor. The rain outside beat softly against the window panes. The hallway lights flickered above them.
"You ever wonder what the point is?" Geto said, voice low.
Gojo turned. "Of what?"
"Of saving people who don't even know we exist. Who spit on us. Fear us. Hate us."
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "That's new."
Geto leaned against the railing beside the window. "It just keeps repeating in my head. Riko didn't want to die. She wanted to live. And we told her it was okay. We gave her hope."
"We meant it."
"And it didn't matter."
A long silence stretched between them. Rain trickled down the glass in tired rivulets.
"You think she hated us in the end?" Geto asked.
Gojo shook his head. "No. She smiled."
Geto nodded slowly. "Then why does it feel like her smile's haunting me?"
---
A Turning Point
Later, after Shoko had insisted on checking their wounds again, the two stepped outside. The night air was sharp with dampness. Thunder growled softly in the distance.
Geto lit a cigarette—an old habit from long missions. Gojo leaned beside him on the stone railing, arms folded, face unreadable.
"Did you feel it?" Geto asked. "When you came back. When you stood up again. What changed?"
Gojo nodded. "Everything. For a moment... I was the world. Like I didn't need anyone else."
Geto looked at him. "And now?"
Gojo exhaled. "Now I don't want to be alone."
They stood in silence.
Geto finally said, "I don't know if I can keep doing this."
"You mean the missions?"
"I mean all of it."
Gojo didn't speak. He just nodded, slowly, eyes turned toward the stars buried in clouds.
---
Fragments and Ghosts
When they returned inside, Shoko had fallen asleep on a stool, arms crossed over the edge of Kishibe's bed.
Kishibe was still alive. But unconscious. Breathing through a cursed channel, his skin barely warm.
Geto reached out. His hand hovered above Kishibe's arm but never touched it.
"He was the first one who ever called me out," Geto whispered. "Told me I was too soft."
Gojo smiled faintly. "He said I was a brat."
"He still says that."
A beat.
Gojo stepped closer. "We can't lose him too."
Geto nodded. "We already lost enough."