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Gojo Satoru had seen more dead bodies in his life than naked women in his bed. It’s not a big deal to him, if you ask. He’s not really into women anyway. His relationship with them is just as strange as his relationship with the law; he’s a fantastic cop, but he gets high on Saturdays. The question is, who doesn’t get high in New York? Who doesn’t? But Gojo Satoru, the efficient police officer who rescues cats from cardboard boxes on the avenue and dresses them in baby clothes, is a damn junkie.
That doesn’t matter much on Monday mornings, when he has to lock himself in the bathroom for hours because of the constipation heroin brings while his cats Lynda, Lirio, and Lila claw at the door, desperate to sit on his thighs while he’s shitting. Everything is forgiven when he puts on his police uniform, adjusts his cap in front of the mirror, and kisses his three cats on the head.
“Don’t break anything, especially you, Lila.” The cat with the big bow on her head meows, as if trying to answer him. That’s it. Everything’s fine, everything’s forgiven when he walks into the station and his coworkers greet him with warm smiles and a cup of coffee in hand.
Everything’s fucking fine.
But that Monday morning, Gojo Satoru has a (not so?) pleasant surprise behind bars.
“Offiiiiicer! My favorite police officer in the whole world! I missed you so much, officer. Those nights were long without hearing your yelling voice, telling me to shut up.”
Geto Suguru had been a headache for Satoru just six months ago, and three months ago, and one month ago, when images of the half-naked young man dancing in the deserted prison showers kept flashing back in his mind. They’d had a past as turbulent as it was passionate, but Suguru never changed. No matter how skilled a criminal he was, he always ended up behind bars, and fate pushed him towards Satoru, as if someone in this damn world wanted them to end up ripping each other’s lips off with their teeth.
But well, Satoru is taken aback by this new version of Suguru standing in front of him.
“For God’s sake, what are you wearing?”
Suguru has his hands gripping the bars and the stupidest smile in the world, square as a color TV, and there’s a glow on his skin that tells Satoru he’s been running too much. But what really gets the officer’s attention is that Suguru is dressed like a fucking priest.
“Don’t you love my new look? I thought you would. You’ve always been so puritanical. I wanted to please your darkest desires, even though personally I think priests are fucking assholes.”
“Suguru, Jesus, where did you get those clothes? What did you do?” Satoru grabs the bars with both hands, bringing his face so close to the criminal’s it feels almost intimate. He immediately shifts his gaze toward the other officers but everyone’s busy with their own tasks and no one would suspect he’s having a Sunday chat with an inmate.
Suguru is wearing several diamond rings that look familiar to Satoru.
“I had a nice fuck at the church. Don’t worry, it wasn’t with the priest—I think he’s dead… maybe I shouldn’t have hit him so hard...” He tilts his head and purses his lips in thought. Satoru’s jaw drops to the floor. “Anyway, the priest, in his beautiful unconscious state, lent me these clothes. Don’t you think they’re spectacular, Satoru?”
Suguru takes three big steps back from the bars and spins around. That’s how Satoru gets a better look at the tight black pants, matching shirt, white collar, and the wine-colored robe draped over his shoulders. Suguru finishes his turn and touches the skin of his neck, where there’s a faint bite mark. “Don’t get jealous about this, Satoru. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. If you’d seen him, you’d understand.”
“Why would I be angry?”
Satoru watches as Suguru steps lightly towards him again and grabs the bars harder than necessary. His tongue wets his lower lip, bites it, then his eyes fall on the tiny mole on Satoru’s chin, and he smirks. Satoru’s already nervous. It’s always so easy to make him nervous.
“Because I promised I’d come back for you. Okay, I admit I had some trouble getting out of that maniac’s basement who wanted to kill me, robbing the bank and killing my assistants, and finding you without having to fuck someone at the church, but I did it. Aren’t you happy?”
Suguru now has his hand resting on Satoru’s cheek, looking up at him from beneath his long hair. Satoru can only glance between his dark eyes and the mole on his cheek.
“Suguru, you’re in jail. How is this ‘coming back for me’ supposed to work?”
“If we’re both locked up in the same place, I’d say it’s pretty close to marriage.”
“Marriage is a thousand times different from prison, we’ve talked about this, Suguru.”
“Or…” Suguru lifts his gaze and locks eyes with the officer. His face nearly breaks through the space between the bars, and his fingertips press against the metal until they turn white. “Unless you want to help me escape.”
Satoru raises both eyebrows, shocked. Suguru had never dared ask for something like that. He feels his breathing lose control, and suddenly he feels incredibly constipated and needs to run to the bathroom, but Suguru just keeps looking at him with those eyes full of danger and that ridiculous priest robe.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s been so long, Satoru...” He tilts his head and gives a half-smile, then winks while pressing his forehead harder against the bars. “Whether you help me or not, I’m escaping on my own. If I walk through that door alone, I’ll leave many more corpses behind, and I probably won’t ever want to see your face again.”
“So… it’s final? If I don’t help you, I’ll never see you again?”
“I love how fast you still catch on, darling.”
Satoru doesn’t understand why he’s doing it, but when he tries to remember, his hands are already covered in blood and he’s on his way home in a taxi… with Suguru by his side.
Suguru adjusts his priest’s collar as he tries to convince the driver that the blood on their faces and hands came from an exorcism: “So this girl actually floated in the air, man, you should’ve seen her. Floated a full meter for like ten minutes, screaming and speaking in this really strange language, weirder than any language you could ever imagine.”
“That must’ve been horrifying!” The driver has both hands on the wheel, but his face is twisted towards Suguru, who sits beside Satoru in the back seat. Satoru catches a glimpse of the ID stuck behind the headrest: ‘Itadori Yuuji.’ Another Japanese guy in New York.
“I can’t even imagine how terrifying an exorcism must be! And you even had to bring a cop with you… I don’t wanna know what those demons are like. Gives me the creeps! I’ve got goosebumps all over!”
Suguru leans his playful face into the space between the two front seats and eyes the driver’s bumpy skin, thinking he’s lucky he’s found such a gullible man:
“Demons take on the least expected forms. I couldn’t just walk into that house and put a cross over that girl and watch her spit blood all over us, I needed the force of the law by my side.”
Satoru rolls his eyes when Suguru flashes him a mischievous grin and goes back to his delightful little chat with the driver. He’s always known Suguru had the ability to make people believe the most unbelievable shit in the world, a talent so innate and dangerous it should be muzzled.
After several turns, Satoru tells the driver to stop in front of his apartment. He sighs as he sets his eyes on Suguru, bastard looks way too good in that priest outfit with all that blood on his face.
“I’m grabbing the girls and coming back down. Don’t you dare leave without me.”
“Never. You’re my favorite officer.”
Not entirely convinced, Satoru jumps out of the cab and sprints to his apartment, keys shaking in his hand. As soon as he gets the door open, he grabs the cage where he keeps his three cats and his emergency suitcase (yes, Satoru is the kind of old-fashioned idiot who has a full emergency suitcase) and bolts back to the taxi.
He’s genuinely surprised to find it still there, and not only that, Suguru is holding the door open from the inside with an amused look on his face.
Once everything’s inside the vehicle, Suguru tells Yuuji:
“I want you to take the road that loops around the city and drive until we’re nearly out of New York. I’ll tell you where to drop us off.”
Yuuji nods and heads off, now traveling with the cats’ cage in his passenger seat. When they stop at a red light, he glances at Suguru through the rearview mirror and asks: “So… the priest collars… where do you guys get those? I mean, I’ve never seen a priest collar at Walmart.”
Suguru lets out a loud laugh under Satoru’s terrified stare:
“God gives us the collars, as it should be.”
When they get out of the cab, it’s already night.
"Did you seriously make the guy drive all the way out to the middle of nowhere?" Satoru asks, holding the cage in an iron grip as he watches Suguru walk straight towards what looks like an abandoned warehouse. "Are you planning to kill me or something?"
"I’d never dare kill my favorite officer. Life would be so boring without anyone to annoy."
Suguru slams his body against a pretty flimsy wooden door and it gives way. Satoru stares, confused.
"I told that weird cabbie to bring us here because my car’s here."
"I honestly don’t get how you always get away with shit. You know how long the department’s been looking for this car? It has evidence of so many crimes it makes me want to hug it."
Satoru reaches out, almost like he’s trying to touch the black Cadillac, now visible in the dim light of dusk.
"This car is going to be your home for God knows how long, so you better hug it and kiss it."
Suguru disappears behind the car, out of Satoru’s sight, and starts making some weird movements.
"What’s going on?"
"Looking for the keys," Suguru says, unbuttoning his priest pants, and Satoru’s eyes widen to the point of no return. He spins on his heels as soon as he hears soft groans and sees Suguru doing slow hip circles.
"You shoved the keys up your ass!?"
"Where else was I supposed to hide them so they wouldn’t take them in prison? I’m honestly surprised you’re this naïve, Satoru."
"Why your ass though?! Doesn’t it hurt?!"
"At first... it’s weird, it’s..."
"How does it feel, huh?" Satoru still has his back turned while Suguru’s voice grows more hoarse, soaked with something Satoru really doesn’t want to hear.
"Like a key up my ass. What kind of question is that? For a cop, you're not very sharp."
There’s a sigh of relief and then the zipper sounds as his pants go up fast.
"You can turn around now. No big deal."
"I’m not touching that damn key," Satoru says as soon as the criminal is back in view, looking a little more disheveled and with sweat dripping down the priest collar. "You’re driving, Suguru."
"Didn’t plan on letting you anyway. Besides, it amazes me how hypocritical you can be—you already know everything that comes out of my ass."
Suguru flashes that weird smile of his, and Satoru feels like a bomb just dropped into his large intestine.
"Let’s just get the hell out of here. The cats are hungry."
Satoru walks to the passenger seat and slams the door shut. Before Suguru gets in, he grins wide at the night and licks his lips with his own spit.
It doesn’t take long for Suguru to pull into a gas station. It’s oddly charming, well-lit, with decent decor. Inside, there’s a bored-looking guy behind the counter, listening to music on the radio.
The three cats are asleep on the back seat, now free from their cage. Satoru turns to pet them.
"We need a couple things," Suguru says. Satoru doesn’t want to stick around. There are a few shops nearby and even a club with kids dancing. And if they’re on the run, they really shouldn’t be around people.
"Pop the trunk. I need it open when I come back. Be right back."
"I’m coming with you."
"No."
Satoru notices Suguru getting nervous. That’s not normal.
"What are you hiding from me?"
"It’s nothing serious. I just think you’ll freak out when you find out my plan."
"Your plan? Suguru, I don’t get it. What plan?"
"The law isn’t the only one after me. I need to finish him before he finishes me. I need to kill Sukuna."
Satoru feels his jaw drop and his lips crack. A horrible feeling pounds in his chest like a thousand beats per second, and he doesn’t want to admit how scared he is to fully understand what killing Suguru means. Sukuna.
Sukuna is the king of New York. The biggest drug lord, arms dealer, the man behind almost every crime in the city. Has Suguru lost his mind?
"Let’s say I didn’t hold up my end of the deal. Now he’s looking to put my head on a stake."
"And what was your end of the deal?"
"Killing you."
A shockwave of tension explodes inside his ribs and becomes a guttural scream echoing in his ears when he hears that.
Suguru is looking at him so seriously. And Satoru has always hated that look. When Suguru gets serious, all he can feel is tragedy and unspeakable grief.
"And I really don’t want to kill you," Suguru says, opening the door and stepping out with almost inhuman strides.
Satoru’s mouth is dry, his hands are wet, and a cold sweat slides down his neck. He looks at the cats one more time before stepping out and following Suguru into the store.
The guy behind the counter isn’t Sukuna. Satoru knows that. He’s just listening to music and reading a magazine when Suguru walks in and grabs a bottle of wine.
Satoru approaches him from behind. "What exactly are you planning to do here?"
"Watch and learn."
Then Suguru runs straight to the counter and smashes the wine bottle over the guy’s head. He drops unconscious right onto himself.
Suguru grabs him and quickly hauls him out of the store.
"Come on, Satoru, the trunk!"
Satoru runs faster than humanly possible, slamming the Cadillac open with the button. Thank God it’s not locked.
Suguru throws the young man inside and shuts the trunk with a loud thud.
Before Satoru can even process what’s happening, they’re speeding down the highway, and all he can think about is the name printed on the guy’s nametag:
“Fushiguro Megumi.”
Fushiguro Megumi is tied to a chair, and has a large bloodstain running from his temple down to the edge of his white gas station shirt. Satoru watches him from another chair, sitting backwards with his arms resting on the backrest. Suguru has been showering for fifteen minutes. They’re all in the room of that hotel called “Loving Moments,” which sounds like a cruel irony.
“So this is Sukuna’s boyfriend?” Satoru asks loudly, directing the question to Suguru, still stuck in the bathroom. Satoru is already bathed.
“I don’t know if he’s his official boyfriend, but Sukuna takes him everywhere and wants to move in with him. I don’t know if the kid actually cares, or if he’s just in it for the money, and if that’s the case, it’s totally understandable.”
“He's got really dark hair... and looks really young.” Satoru studies the closed eyelids and the head slumped forward, checking once more if he’s breathing, and yes, slowly he is. Lila, unlike her feline sisters, is completely enchanted by Fushiguro Megumi’s presence and even settles in his lap to rest and rub her head against his stomach.
“He’s 24. From what I’ve heard, Sukuna met him by chance one day when the kid was working as a newspaper delivery guy. He had three jobs to pay for school, but now Sukuna pays for everything. He works at the gas station to cover up the fact that he’s dating a mobster.”
“How do you know all this?”
Suguru sticks his head out from the bathroom door, his long, wet, tousled strands of hair falling over his face: “Know your enemies better than your friends. That’s the law of life. And I don’t have many friends to distract me.”
He goes back inside the bathroom and Satoru chuckles softly. He lights a cigarette he took from his emergency kit and tunes the only radio station that reaches the hotel room. A song starts filling the tense atmosphere, and he immediately sees Suguru come out of the bathroom wearing only a towel tied around his waist and the priest collar around his neck, moving his hips slowly to the beat.
“Turn up the volume, officer.”
Satoru does.
Suguru starts moving the hand not holding the towel, silently singing along, swaying his back side to side. His wet hair sticks to his skin, droplets sliding down his abdomen as he slowly spins on his feet, moving his ass. Satoru remembers Suguru’s dance moves as if they were tattooed on his retinas; he feels it jolts down his spine and is delighted to see them again. All those times in prison weren’t enough.
Never enough.
The song ends, and Suguru sighs: “I really love that song. Too bad I can’t listen to music more often.”
“Why did you keep the priest collar on?”
“Because it’s sexy.” Suguru shrugs and walks toward the clothes he’d been wearing, drying near the heater. He doesn’t care that they’re still a little damp; soon he’s back in priest attire, and Satoru doesn’t know what to think.
“You find priests sexy?”
“I hate priests.” Suguru approaches Satoru, snatches the cigarette from his mouth, takes a long drag, blows the remaining smoke in his face, and hands the cigarette back. “I hate how they lie right in people’s faces, how their mouths are full of lies when they do horrible things behind the scenes. I was unlucky enough to run into a few of those types, but you already know that.”
“I know a lot about you, Suguru. That surprises me.”
“It shouldn’t.”
Lila meows from Fushiguro Megumi’s lap; he’s still unconscious and tied to the chair.
“I know a lot, but I still don’t get how this is a good plan.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a great plan. Fushiguro Megumi is the bait, Sukuna comes looking for his boyfriend and boom, shot in the head.” Suguru says, pointing at the gun on the bed. “Goodbye problems, we’re out of the state.”
“Sukuna’s no idiot.”
“Trust me, Satoru. I’m gonna teach him not to mess with me.”
“But he hasn’t even messed with you. He wanted you to kill me. Why would he want that?”
“I don’t know that many things.” Suguru rolls his eyes and takes another drag of Satoru’s cigarette, then puts it out on the bed’s backrest. “You should think about where the hell you’ve been sticking your nose for him to want you dead.”
Satoru wants to say something but stops when he hears someone coughing slowly, low and rough. They both turn to see Fushiguro Megumi lifting his head, eyes squinting from the light, the pained expression of having been hit so hard in the head.
“This… this has to be a joke.”
Satoru notices Megumi has a bandage on his right shoulder.
“Again?” the kid says, tilting his head back to rest his neck. He sighs twice under the confused gaze of the two men in front of him. “You have no idea… how many times I’ve woken up tied to a chair…”
“Is this some kind of kinky game?” Satoru whispers to Suguru, who silences him with a hand gesture.
“What do you mean by that, Fushiguro Megumi?”
“It’s the second time this week people tried to kill me. Don’t think you’re that special.” The pain fades as seconds pass, leaving only confusion and weariness, but definitely no fear. Megumi hears Lila meowing from his lap and lowers his head to smile faintly at her.
“I really don’t know what to say.” Satoru whispers again into Suguru’s ear, and Suguru hushes him once more.
“I like your attitude.” Suguru crosses his arms and smiles that arrogant smile Satoru knows so well, charming and tough but soft at the same time. “You’re not afraid to think about being tied to a chair with dangerous people…”
“Excuse me, but you're wearing a damn priest outfit, whatever it’s called. And the other one looks like he really needs to take a shit and seems scared of me. I don’t know where the hell you two crazies came from, but after fucking two priests in my life, I really lost my taste for religion. Just saying, in case you wanted to recruit me into some cocaine-snorting priest or altar boy cult.”
“Well, I think I finally get why Sukuna likes this guy so much.” Suguru whispers to Satoru as Lila starts licking Megumi’s chin. Megumi smiles with what looks like affection.
“Even my cat likes him more than me.”
“Did you say Sukuna?” Megumi asks, and Satoru nods twice. “Seriously? God, I don’t believe in any higher power but if I did, I’d ask it to kick Sukuna in the balls for letting me get kidnapped all the time.”
“So this happens to you a lot?” Satoru really can’t believe the kid is taking it so lightly, they got him fucking kidnapped!
Megumi sighs, fed up: “Like I said, it’s the second time this week people tried to kill me.”
“And you take it so lightly!?”
“Oh, I love this guy!” Suguru says at the same time as Satoru’s pure dismayed shout and Megumi finds it pretty funny. He raises an eyebrow watching the two men argue in front of him. The priest waves his hands to hush his companion, but Satoru clearly catches a muffled whisper: “It’s not gonna go wrong.”
“What makes you think it won’t go wrong? This guy is more ready to die than a lifer, you can tell he doesn’t give a damn that we have him tied to this fucking chair, no offense.” Satoru looks at Megumi for a tiny moment and hears him respond, “No problem, man.”
“So why would this plan be so brilliant? They almost killed him twice this week, you heard it from his own mouth.”
“First, this is the second time this week they’ve tried to kill him, don’t misinterpret his words, incompetent officer. And second, the idea is to lure Sukuna in. I dont give a flying fuck about this guy, no offense.” Suguru gestures toward Megumi, who rolls his eyes and replies, “No problem.”
“As long as Sukuna bites the bait and we pull the line, everything will go as planned. Trust me, officer. When have I ever failed you?”
“Don’t call me ‘officer,’ Suguru, for God’s sake. Do you have a fetish for higher-ups or what?”
“I have fetishes for a lot of things…” Suguru slowly bites his lip, revealing a small mole nestled in the folds below. It’s bold, almost hot. Satoru always saw it as a tiny dirt stain, but internal, almost like a sign that these are the darkest lips in the world.
Megumi watches the conversation with interest while Lila keeps licking his chin.
“But one of the strangest is my fetish for feet. Remember, Satoru, when I touched your dick with my clean feet in the cell? The hottest experience of my life.”
“I don’t get why you like feet. What’s so special about them? They smell bad and have toes.” Satoru crosses his arms, watching the man’s playful gaze. There’s something in those firm cloudy eyes that makes him feel strange, something hidden like a delicious sin and a mist rising from between his lips when he breathes. “They make me wanna puke.”
“I didn’t know that’s what you called ejaculating, because mine made that friend down there stain your pants plenty of times. And not just my feet, not just my feet!” Suguru turns to face Megumi, who watches amused from the chair. “You know what this guy likes? You know what turns him on?”
“I don’t even know who you are. It’d be weird if I did.”
“Freckles!” Suguru exclaims, making Satoru jump slightly. He feels a strange heat invading his face and a burn between his fingers when he sees the mole on Suguru’s cheek up close, that mole that invited him so many times to all sorts of perversions in prison.
“He likes freckles! Do you know how many times he came on the mole I have on my cheek?”
“That’s actually pretty intriguing.” Megumi feels Lila curl up on his lap and stares at him, as if listening.
“Why would spots on the skin be attractive to you?”
“Don’t look at me! He likes feet!”
“It’s not so weird that I like feet!”
Three hours later, things start to get kind of dull. Megumi is having some sort of conversation with Suguru about an orange biscuit recipe, and Satoru is about to fall asleep on the mattress with the gun resting on his chest. He can’t believe how well Suguru gets along with people, his skill of chatting even with the dead about the most uninteresting topics is intact. He feels like he knows him too well for him to be just some crazy guy who drove him crazy too; it’s like a damn thorn in his side or a well-hidden mole on his lower back, never going away from his skin, even if it stains it. Maybe that’s why he likes moles so much.
Megumi has the three cats around him: one on his shoulder, another on his lap, and one on his torn sneakers. Everything is pretty quiet until they hear a loud bang on the door.
They’re trying to break it down.
“It’s time.” Suguru says, grabbing the gun from Satoru’s chest and aiming straight at the entrance. Satoru is still more asleep than awake but stands up so he’s not an easy target, grabbing his own pistol. Both are aiming at the door when it’s smashed open, it's not Sukuna who enters, but one of his top henchmen.
The henchman sees Megumi tied to the chair, then looks around, immediately pointing a gun at them all.
“Give me the kid.”
“Isn’t Sukuna supposed to do the dirty work?”
The henchman steps towards Megumi, but Suguru sidesteps and presses the gun to his temple.
“I don’t know why you gave me that orange biscuit recipe if you were going to blow my head off, literally.” Megumi says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t have anything against you, Fushiguro Megumi.”
“Actually, you do, like the gun pressed against my temple.”
“Give me the kid or I’ll kill you.” The henchman is tougher than the Terminator himself, which personally makes Satoru laugh a lot. The gun in his hand trembles as he starts laughing slowly; now all three pairs of eyes in the room are on him.
“What’s so funny?”
“This situation’s too much, you know… I woke up today as a damn cop, and now I’m part of a kidnapping. Ah, the twists of life… A crazy guy dressed like a priest can show up and change everything in a second.”
“I agree.” Megumi says, feeling the cold barrel of the gun on his pale skin.
“Don’t you think it’s a bad time to philosophize, Gojo Satoru?” A new voice rings clearly from the broken entrance. Sukuna, wearing his perfect designer suit and smelling clean, closes his hands behind his back calmly and looks at everyone in the room with his chin raised. Satoru had forgotten how beautiful Sukuna is, how soft his skin looks to the touch, and how disdainfully he looks at people, as if they were just his damn insects.
Or at least until his gaze meets Fushiguro Megumi’s.
“Finally you show up, you fucking idiot.” Megumi says, the three cats on him and a gun pressed hard against his temple. On Sukuna’s face is a hint of desperation, an insane terror that something might happen to his boyfriend. “Do you know what it’s like for a guy dressed like a priest to kidnap you? No, you don’t, because I’m the one who always gets kidnapped.”
“Megumi…”
“I’m tired, Sukuna, for God’s sake. And you took hours to find me, what if crazy people kidnapped me? Tortured me? Or God knows what else?”
“Meg—”
“Priest, just kill me.” Megumi says, and Suguru’s eyes open almost inhumanly wide. Is Suguru a saint? No. Has Suguru killed people? Yes. But he doesn’t want to carry the body of this kid who had really done nothing but make him laugh in the last three hours, and besides, he seems to get along with Satoru’s cats.
“No… It’s not you I have a problem with.” Suguru lifts the gun toward Sukuna and everything in the room spirals out of control. Suddenly, the henchman points his weapon at Satoru, and Megumi jumps lightly in his seat, scared by the patient look his boyfriend is giving the “priest.”
“Sukuna, you asked me to kill Satoru, and honestly, I don’t want to. I don’t know your shitty reasons and I don’t intend to know them. I just want you to leave us alone forever because he’s the only person who stands by me and he’s like a brother to me.”
Satoru exclaims: “A brother, you say!? What kind of relationship do you have with your brothers!?”
“That’s actually a pretty incestuous comment.” Megumi adds.
“I don’t care what this son of a bitch did; I know it’s not worse than half the shit I’ve done. Either you leave him alone, or I kill you, your dimpled henchman, and Megumi.”
“Wasn’t it that you didn’t have anything against me?”
Sukuna thinks for a moment. He places his hand under his chin, sighs twice, then nods lightly. He touches his henchman’s shoulder gently and whispers in his ear. The guy immediately points his weapon at Suguru.
“I’m going to forgive you and Satoru if you leave Megumi alone, but in exchange…”
The henchman opens fire and a bullet lodges in Suguru’s thigh.
Immediately the room fills with a horrible roar of mixed shouts: Satoru rushes across the room towards him, and the henchman drags Megumi away with the chair and all to take him from the hotel. Suddenly there’s no Sukuna, no Fushiguro Megumi, and no henchman because they’ve all fucked off, but there is a Satoru making a tourniquet out of the bed sheets on Suguru’s leg so he wouldn’t fucking bleed to death.
When they get in the car, it’s already daytime. Satoru had pulled the bullet out with his own hands and bandaged Suguru’s leg, who sits in the passenger seat, watching the landscape close and open before his eyes.
The three cats are in the back seats.
“Satoru.”
“Yes?”
Suguru’s eyes are almost closed from sleep and pain, his hands covered in his own blood rest on his stomach, and he leans his messy hair lightly against the headrest as he looks at Satoru. He moistens his lips with the tip of his tongue before speaking.
He never took off the priest collar.
“Are you aware that Sukuna is never going to stop chasing us, right?
Satoru says nothing, just eeps his gaze fixed on the road. Suguru clears his throat, his voice deeper than usual.
“He has something planned for us, Satoru, because forgiveness… forgiveness doesn’t exist.”
Satoru swallows and looks at Suguru for a few seconds, then smiles. Both start laughing—laughing like crazy.
Lila meows.
“Ah, my favorite officer, if only I knew how to make you stop forgiving me!”