Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Suguru woke up, he found himself tied to a chair in a dark room, the air heavy with the stench of blood and sweat. A pounding headache throbbed in his left temple, and he felt the sticky residue of half-dried blood on the side of his face.

His memory was hazy, distorted, but he didn't need full clarity to realize he had made a grave mistake. A single moment of distraction had cost him; a blow to the head had knocked him out cold. Suguru winced as he recalled the way he had only noticed the danger when it was too late to fight back. If only he had been more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings, he might have avoided being captured.

He should have known something was off the moment he stepped out of the building where he had just completed an unusually easy mission. It was supposed to involve a first-grade curse, possibly even a special-grade based on witness reports. Yet, it had turned out to be a lowly second-grade—hardly worth the time and resources of two special-grade sorcerers.

Suguru’s eyes widened as the fog in his mind cleared enough for him to remember that he hadn't been alone. Both he and Satoru had been sent to handle the high-grade curse. They were together when Suguru was attacked.

A wave of uneasiness washed over him at the thought that Satoru might have been captured too. Suguru had been knocked out before he could even see where Satoru was, leaving him in the dark about his friend's fate.

He tried to stay calm. Surely, they couldn't have captured Satoru as well, right? Satoru’s Six Eyes gave him an extraordinary perception, far superior to Suguru’s, so he must have detected the threat in time. Besides, even if they had somehow managed to surprise him, Satoru’s Infinity would have protected him from any attack.

Suguru reassured himself that there was nothing to worry about. Satoru was likely out there, safe and sound, already searching for him. Satoru was relentless and would go to any lengths to rescue Suguru, of that he had no doubt.

But a nagging voice in the back of Suguru’s mind suggested there was a flaw in his reasoning. If Satoru had avoided capture, if he had been fast enough to prevent the attack, then why had Suguru been taken in the first place? Satoru would never have allowed them to capture him unless something had incapacitated him.

Suguru fought to keep his panic at bay. Maybe they had caught Satoru off guard, but he would surely come looking for him once he recovered. Yet, the notion that his captors had somehow neutralized Satoru and still only taken Suguru seemed too implausible to accept. The harsh reality was that if he was here, then Satoru likely was too.

Suguru sighed, trying to suppress his rising anxiety. Desperation wouldn’t help him now. He needed to stay levelheaded, focus on finding a way out, and worry about Satoru once he was free from this stifling, dark room.

Just as he began to work on freeing himself from his restraints, the door creaked open, and a tall girl dressed in black stepped inside with a sly grin.

“Well, hello there” she greeted him in a sickly sweet voice. “Look who’s finally awake. We were starting to wonder how long you'd be out.”

Suguru frowned at her, irritated by her fake smile and mocking tone.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Oh? That's not a very polite way to address a lady” she replied with a mocking tone and a grin that only deepened Suguru’s frustration.

“I don't care. Who are you? What do you want?”

The girl chuckled, seemingly amused by Suguru’s anger. She began to circle him, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Patience, Suguru Geto. All your questions will be answered soon enough. For now, just relax, okay?”

She smirked and, without warning, perched on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Suguru tensed, unable to pull back due to his restraints.

“The others don’t seem too interested in you, but I think you’re quite the catch, Suguru,” she whispered in his ear before biting softly at his neck.

Suguru felt a wave of revulsion but quickly pushed it aside. This could be his chance to escape—he just needed to play his cards right.

With a decision made, he turned his head to face the girl and leaned in to kiss her. Despite the disgust churning in his gut, he continued, searching for an opportunity to turn the situation to his advantage.

Suguru moved his hips slightly, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“My, my, you’re eager, aren’t you?”

They continued, with Suguru playing along to lower her guard.

“You’ve got potential,” she said with a mischievous grin. “The others don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Uncuff me, and I'll show you just what I can do with that potential” Suguru said, forcing a sultry tone into his voice, hoping she wouldn’t notice the slight edge of insincerity.

“You’ve got fire in you, don’t you?” she teased as she removed his handcuffs, then cupped his cheeks to resume kissing him.

Suguru’s hands moved to her waist, still playing along as he covertly reached for the knife secured to her belt. With one swift move, he seized it and, before she could react, stabbed her in the neck. Blood splattered onto his face and chest as she collapsed to the ground.

Suguru sat still for a moment, catching his breath before standing to leave. He couldn't dwell on what he had just done—not when the danger was still very real.

He leaned down next to her body, searching for anything that could help him escape. He found a set of keys and quickly identified the one for the door lock. After unlocking the door, he carefully peered out to check if anyone was nearby.

The corridor outside was dimly lit, empty, and eerily silent. Wasting no time, he slipped out and locked the door behind him, hoping it would buy him some time if anyone came looking for the girl.

Suguru kept a firm grip on the knife, his guard up as he moved cautiously down the corridor. Soon, he heard footsteps approaching and quickly ducked into a nearby room, relieved to find it unlocked. He closed the door quietly and waited for the footsteps to pass. They seemed unaware of his presence, but he opted to wait a bit longer before moving on.

As he pressed his back against the wall, his elbow accidentally hit the light switch, illuminating the small room. Suguru’s eyes widened in horror at what he saw. The walls were covered with pictures of him and Satoru, accompanied by notes like the product of a meticulous investigation. The photos dated back months, taken from angles where the photographer had remained unnoticed.

The sight sickened him, especially when he noticed the symbols drawn on the walls, some scrawled over the photographs—mostly over Satoru’s.

Suguru’s heart sank as the realization hit him: he wasn’t the primary target. He was merely collateral damage. Satoru was their true objective.

He switched off the light and took a deep breath before opening the door. Time was running out. Whatever these people wanted with Satoru, it was nothing good, and Suguru had to act quickly.

He continued down the corridor, moving with urgency until he heard muffled cries from behind a door. His heart raced as he opened it, hoping to find Satoru.

But it wasn’t Satoru. Instead, another man was tied up, his pleas for help stifled by a gag.

Suguru hesitated, unsure if he could trust the man, but decided to untie him before returning to the corridor. Before they could get far, the lights suddenly turned red, and an alarm blared. His time was up—they knew he had escaped.

He started running, dodging groups of girls dressed in black like the one he had killed. It was clear they were part of some organization—one that now posed a threat to both him and Satoru.

As he ran, his escape was cut short by the sting of a tranquilizer dart. He cursed under his breath as his body began to go limp, leaving him helpless as the girls closed in.

“We underestimated you,” one of them said bitterly. “Don’t worry—it won’t happen again.”

The last thing Suguru saw was the heel of her boot coming toward his face before everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, only to be met with a sharp, searing pain that made him wince and shut them tightly again. His senses, always heightened, now felt unbearably amplified. Even the harsh flicker of the light bulb above him felt like needles stabbing into his skull, making him want to claw his eyes out to stop the burning.

He tried to shield his eyes with his hands, but his arms were strapped down. A quick attempt to move his legs revealed the same for his ankles. Panic rose in his chest as he realized he was completely immobilized.

Satoru clenched his eyes shut, desperately willing the pain to stop. He couldn’t comprehend why his senses had gone haywire, but he assumed those girls—the ones who had kidnapped him—knew exactly how to trigger his Six Eyes.

These weren’t just random bounty hunters. They were skilled, calculated. They knew how to catch him off guard, how to neutralize his cursed technique just enough to leave him vulnerable. He had been careless, too confident in his own strength. He’d sensed them approaching with an air of inexperience, and it had fooled him. They’d taken advantage of his complacency, striking before he had any time to react.

Anger simmered beneath the pain. He hadn’t felt so powerless in years, not since high school. But even then, he hadn’t been this humbled. Now, here he was, strapped to a cold metallic surface, whimpering in pain as his overly sensitive eyes threatened to make his head explode. The thought of how pathetic he must look only deepened his sense of humiliation.

The pain was overwhelming, a blinding force that made him want to rip his eyes out. He struggled against the restraints, desperate to free himself, but it was futile. His mind drifted to Suguru—how he used to place warm hands over Satoru’s eyes, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the pain during episodes of sensory overload.

But Suguru wasn’t here. And maybe that was for the best.

Satoru tried to remember how close Suguru had been when the ambush happened. He recalled him saying something about calling Ijichi after the mission, but everything else was a blur. He hoped Suguru had managed to escape, but deep down, he knew it was unlikely. If these girls could overpower him, they could do the same to Suguru. He just prayed Suguru had made the call before everything went down, so at least someone would know they were in trouble.

The sharp sound of a metallic door slamming open snapped Satoru out of his thoughts. The clacking of high heels against the floor echoed like nails on a chalkboard, making him flinch in discomfort.

“Sorry, am I being too loud for you, darling?” a girl’s mocking voice cut through the haze. She caressed his cheek with cold fingers, the touch making his skin crawl.

“Look at you... the so-called strongest sorcerer, whimpering from the sound of heels on the floor. Pathetic,” she sneered.

Satoru tried to block out her voice, but his senses were out of control, each sound and sensation magnified to unbearable levels. His Six Eyes were spiraling, picking up on a million things at once, leaving him helpless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to take very good care of you now, love,” the girl said with sickening sweetness.

More footsteps approached, the clacking heels joining the chorus that was driving Satoru insane. He didn’t dare open his eyes, knowing the light would only worsen his splitting headache, but he could sense the malicious intent surrounding him.

The sound of metal clicking reached his ears, tools being passed between hands, preparing for something. A cold dread settled in Satoru’s stomach. He knew whatever was coming wasn’t going to be pleasant.

One of the girls placed an oxygen mask over his face. He flinched, confusion mixing with his pain.

“We wouldn’t want you giving up on us halfway through the procedure, now would we, love?” Her voice was sugary and bitter all at once, making Satoru’s skin crawl.

“Now stay very still, okay? We need to make a few modifications on your body before we proceed,” another girl chirped, her tone eerily cheerful. “Shall we do a countdown?”

Satoru’s uneasiness grew as they began counting down from five. His heart pounded in his chest, knowing whatever these "modifications" were, they were going to be excruciating.

“...Three... two... one!”

A burning pain exploded in Satoru’s abdomen, sharp and relentless, like he was being stabbed over and over. He could hear the girls laughing, and then a scream—his own, though it sounded distant, like he was underwater.

“Stop squirming so much, you’re only making it harder on yourself, babe,” one of the girls taunted.

The pain intensified as one of them grabbed a pair of surgical scissors and began cutting into his flesh. She handled them with terrifying expertise, making precise incisions that avoided killing him but were agonizing enough to keep him screaming.

Satoru's breath hitched as the sensation of cold steel slicing through his skin sent shockwaves of agony through his body. It felt as if his insides were being pulled apart, inch by excruciating inch. The girls worked with a clinical detachment, their hands moving swiftly and efficiently, ensuring that each cut maximized his pain while keeping him conscious.

The smell of blood filled the air, metallic and thick, making Satoru's stomach churn. His body convulsed involuntarily against the restraints, the searing pain too much for his mind to process. He could feel his consciousness slipping, teetering on the edge of oblivion, but every time he came close to passing out, the girl with the oxygen mask would adjust it, keeping him just alert enough to endure more.

“Now, now, don't be feisty" another girl cooed, patting his head as if he were a dog. She brushed a sweat-soaked strand of hair from his forehead. "Resistance will do you no good, darling. We've made sure you can't use your cursed technique for now. It would only get in the way."

Her voice sent his already spinning head reeling even more. He cracked his eyes open just long enough to catch a glimpse of his own insides, being cut up and tossed aside like worthless scraps. Nausea churned in his gut, and he quickly shut his eyes again, not wanting to see the horror being inflicted on him.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't summon his cursed energy. It was as if it was locked away, completely out of his reach. He longed for the comfort of Reverse Cursed Technique, the healing warmth that could soothe his pain, but it remained elusive, mocking him with its absence.

"Such a pretty sight, isn't it?" one of the girls whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "You're holding up better than expected, but don't worry, we're just getting started."

Satoru felt something cold and sharp press against the side of his abdomen, and then the slow, deliberate pressure of a blade sinking into his flesh. The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced, a blinding white-hot agony that radiated from the wound and spread through his entire body. His muscles tensed, his back arching off the table as much as the restraints would allow, and he let out a guttural scream that echoed off the walls.

"Music to my ears” the girl purred, twisting the blade inside him, sending another wave of excruciating pain through his nerves. "We wouldn't want you to get bored, now would we?”

Satoru's mind was a whirlwind of pain and disorientation. He could barely form coherent thoughts, his brain overloaded by the sheer intensity of the torment he was being subjected to. Every breath he took was labored, each one drawing in more of the metallic scent of blood that hung heavy in the air. His entire world had been reduced to the agony coursing through his veins, the sharp, unrelenting pain that seemed to go on forever.

The girls continued their work, slicing and cutting with cold precision, their laughter and taunts a constant background noise that only heightened his suffering. They treated his body like a canvas, each incision a stroke of their cruel artistry, each cut carefully placed to maximize his pain while keeping him alive.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed, only that the pain never seemed to end. His screams had long since turned hoarse, his throat raw from the constant strain. His vision was blurring, his head spinning from blood loss and sheer exhaustion, but he was kept on the edge of consciousness by the relentless attention of his captors.

The torture dragged on, an endless blur of searing pain and disorienting sensations. Satoru's mind teetered on the edge of consciousness, but he never quite fell into the darkness he so desperately craved. The girls had planned everything too well, ensuring he stayed awake through every excruciating moment.

After what felt like an eternity, the girls began to stitch him up. Their movements were careless, but precise enough to ensure the wounds wouldn't reopen. They weren't interested in healing him, only in keeping him alive for whatever they had planned next, and they knew exactly how far they could push him without letting him die. It was cruel and sadistic, and their chuckles and grins only reinforced the idea that they saw him as nothing more than a toy to be broken.

The cruelty of it all was beyond anything Satoru had ever experienced. He was no stranger to pain, but this... this was something else entirely. It was as if they took pleasure in his suffering, enjoying the way his body trembled under their hands, the way his breath hitched with each new wave of pain.

"You did so good, love," one of the girls purred, her voice dripping with mock praise as she removed the oxygen mask from his face.

"Surgery was a success. You should be proud” she sneered, "Not everyone can handle a procedure like this without a drop of anaesthesia”

The other girls laughed, their voices cruel and amused as they cleaned up the tools and gathered the pieces of Satoru's insides they had cut out. The sight made Satoru's stomach churn, but he was too weak to even react, his body limp against the metallic surface he was strapped to.

"We expect great things from you," the girl whispered as she caressed his face, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. The gesture made Satoru's skin crawl. He couldn't bring himself to respond, his vision blurring as exhaustion and pain finally began to take their toll.

"You must be exhausted" she murmured with a wicked grin as she filled a syringe with a clear liquid. "Go to sleep now. You'll need to be well-rested for what's to come. This is only the beginning."

Satoru barely registered the prick of the needle as she injected the sedative into his arm. His mind was too far gone, too overwhelmed by the pain and the horror of what he had just endured. The world around him began to fade, the edges of his vision darkening as the sedative took effect. He wanted to fight it, to stay awake, but his body was too weak, too broken to resist. His eyes drifted shut, and the last thing he saw was the surgical light above him, its harsh glow blurring into darkness as he was pulled into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Suguru woke up and sighed as he realized he was tied up again. This time, his eyes were bandaged, leaving him entirely dependent on his hearing to understand what was happening around him. The throbbing in his head had lessened, but that offered little comfort in his precarious situation. He was back to square one—still captive, still unsure of what had happened to Satoru. Escaping again wouldn’t be as easy now that his captors were on high alert.

He heard footsteps approaching, the sound of high heels indicating it was those girls. His body tensed, bracing for whatever they had planned.

Suguru listened as plates were placed in front of him, accompanied by the clatter of metal. Were they going to feed him? The thought of eating anything given to him by these girls made his stomach churn, but he didn’t seem to have much choice.

“Hey, Suguru,” one of the girls whispered in his ear, making his skin crawl. “What you did earlier wasn’t very nice.”

Her voice was bitter, with a mocking edge. She leaned closer, her grip tightening on his shoulder.

“How would you feel if I hurt one of your friends, hmm?”

The way she spoke sent a shiver down Suguru’s spine, especially when he heard the door swing open with a bang, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. The girls shifted it onto what he could only imagine was a chair, similar to the one he was tied to.

His heart sank as he realized the dead weight they were carrying might very well be Satoru.

“What was that? Who’s there?” Suguru asked nervously, shifting in his seat and struggling against the restraints.

“Hm? You need to be patient, baby,” she sneered. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, aren’t you hungry?”

Suguru scoffed, shifting again. “What the fuck do you want? Why are you doing this?”

“Didn’t I just tell you to be patient?” she snapped, the fake sweetness in her voice vanishing. “Shut up before I cut your throat.”

Suguru winced as she yanked his head back, pulling his hair. He didn’t like how things were shaping up, especially if the other person in the room was Satoru. The silence was unsettling—Satoru hadn’t made a single sound, and that worried Suguru.

Another girl approached him, roughly pulling his head back.

“All right, let’s begin,” she said, amused, as she pressed a finger to his nose, forcing him to inhale a powder.

Suguru squirmed but had no choice but to comply. He sniffled uncomfortably and sneezed, his body trying to expel the powder’s residue.

“What the fuck was that?” he hissed, his body tingling from the powder.

“Just a little something to help you loosen up,” the girl laughed mischievously.

Suguru shifted uncomfortably, noticing a sweet, earthy scent, like incense but different. Before he could process it, a stem was forced into his mouth.

“Come on, you know how to smoke, right?”

The girl leaned against Suguru, kissing his neck as she held the stem for him.

Suguru wanted to protest, to reject whatever these girls were giving him, but his mind was already fuzzy from the powder, and he felt strangely comfortable and giddy. Against his better judgment, he inhaled the smoke from the stem, letting it sit in his chest for a moment before exhaling.

The taste of the smoke was bitter yet sweet, like a floral fragrance mixed with something else. The more he smoked, the dizzier he became. It was as though his body was no longer his own, consumed by a mixture of euphoria and extreme relaxation. Suddenly, being here with these girls didn’t seem as bad as it had earlier.

His muscles, once tense with fear and resistance, softened into a pliant submission. Every fiber of his being was humming, a low, steady vibration thrumming through him, leaving his skin hyper-aware, every touch from the girls sending sparks of sensation shooting through his nerves. It was as though his entire body had been tuned to a new frequency, where pain and pleasure intertwined, inseparable and indistinguishable.

Suguru’s breathing grew shallow, every inhale dragging the lingering taste of the smoke deeper into his lungs, making his chest feel tight, his heart pounding erratically in response. His head swam, his vision behind the blindfold spiraling as if he were floating, weightless, in a void. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating, pulling him further away from the reality he once knew.

The girls continued to ply Suguru with the strange smoke, and soon, his head felt light, his body sinking deeper into the chair. His thoughts blurred, replaced by an overwhelming sense of euphoria. He barely noticed when the stem was taken from his mouth and replaced with something else—something tender and warm.

“Open wide, babe,” one of the girls cooed, guiding a piece of meat between his lips.

Suguru hesitated, a fleeting instinct telling him to resist, but the drugs coursing through his system made it impossible to focus. The scent of the meat filled his nostrils—rich, savory, and slightly charred. His mouth watered involuntarily, and before he could think, he was chewing.

The first bite sent a rush of flavors over his tongue—succulent, juicy, and almost overwhelmingly rich. The meat melted in his mouth, a velvety texture that felt indulgent, like nothing he had ever tasted before. Each chew released more of its juices, the flavor intensifying with every bite. It was a perfect balance of sweet and savory, with a hint of something smoky that lingered at the back of his throat. It tasted so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. 

Suguru's body reacted instantly, the hunger he hadn’t realized he’d been harboring surging to the surface. He eagerly opened his mouth for more, the taste of the meat so intoxicating it drowned out any lingering doubts. He barely noticed the girls giggling around him, their voices distant and distorted, as if they were coming from another room.

They fed him piece after piece, each one more tender and flavorful than the last. He savored every morsel, his senses completely overtaken by the experience. The meat was unseasoned, yet it carried a deep, primal flavor that seemed to resonate with something buried deep within him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before—a taste so raw, so visceral, it felt almost forbidden.

The more he ate, the more his body responded, a warmth spreading from his belly outward, filling him with a languid, blissful sensation. His limbs felt heavy, his head lolling back as he chewed and swallowed, lost in the sheer pleasure of the meal. The drugs and the meat combined in a heady mix, sending waves of euphoria through his entire body. He could feel his pulse quickening, each beat thrumming in his ears as the girls continued to feed him, their laughter now a twisted, echoing chorus that reverberated in his muddled mind.

Beneath the pleasure a faint sense of unease began to creep in, but still, he couldn't stop. The euphoria was too overwhelming, the desire for more too strong. He found himself leaning forward, blindly seeking out the next piece of meat as if his very survival depended on it.

Unbeknownst to Suguru, Satoru was sitting in front of him, tied up and gagged, but with his eyes wide open, allowing him to see the wicked and unsettling scene.

Satoru’s heart pounded against his ribs, each beat a painful reminder of his helplessness. His throat was raw from the gag, every breath shallow and frantic as he watched Suguru, his best friend, descend into a drug-induced haze. The sight was a nightmare made real, a twisted testimony of the horror they were trapped in. 

The girls’ laughter echoed in the room, a chilling backdrop to the sickening scene. Their hands moved over Suguru’s body with cruel precision, feeding him bite after bite, their voices dripping with perverse delight. Satoru’s eyes burned with unshed tears, the strain of watching Suguru succumb to their twisted game overwhelming him.

As Satoru watched Suguru devour the meat, lost in a gut-wrenching euphoria, the infected stitches in his abdomen burned, cruelly reminding him of the nauseating nature of the scene.

Chapter Text

Satoru shut his eyes at some point, unable to bear the sight of Suguru succumbing to the girls' twisted feast. The scene was grotesque, a nightmarish parody of reality that made his stomach churn with revulsion. He wanted to pretend it wasn't happening—that Suguru wasn't drugged out of his mind, unknowingly devouring the pieces of flesh that had been brutally taken from him.

It was too much. The sickening horror of it all made Satoru's head spin. He wanted nothing more than to be given the same drugs they had forced upon Suguru, to slip into oblivion and escape the horrors unfolding before him. If only he could forget—forget everything they were being put through, forget the pain, the helplessness, the terror that gnawed at his sanity.

But of course, their captors were far too cruel for that. Numbing his mind with drugs would be too merciful for them. They were sadistic, deriving pleasure from every ounce of suffering they inflicted, every minute of helplessness they forced upon him. They wanted him to feel everything, to experience the full brunt of his despair in excruciating clarity.

Satoru’s abdomen throbbed with a searing pain, the infected stitches burning like hot coals beneath his skin. The redness and swelling were unmistakable signs that the wound was festering, likely teeming with infection. He cursed the girls for their carelessness, knowing they had probably used filthy tools and skipped any pretense of sterilization. They hadn't cared whether he lived or died, as long as he suffered in the process.

If the infection spread, it could lead to septic shock—a slow, agonizing death. But even that possibility didn’t frighten Satoru as much as the thought of what might come next. The uncertainty gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how utterly powerless he was.

He fought to stay grounded, to keep himself alert in case some slim chance of escape presented itself. But with every passing moment, that hope grew fainter. His body was weakening, his mind slipping into a haze of pain and fever. Perhaps it was the infection messing with his head, but he found it harder and harder to muster the energy to even think about escape.

Whatever those girls had done to him, it had left him stripped of his cursed technique, his connection to his power severed. He had tried again and again to summon it, to grasp even the faintest thread of his cursed energy, but it was like trying to hold onto smoke. It slipped through his fingers, leaving him defenseless and vulnerable.

Without his cursed technique, he had nothing left to rely on but his physical strength—and that was failing him too. His body felt like dead weight, every muscle screaming in protest at the mere thought of movement. The idea of getting up, of fighting those girls to carve a path to freedom, was laughable. His body wouldn't allow it. 

The pain in his abdomen was so intense that even walking a few steps seemed impossible, let alone fighting his way out of this nightmare. Despair settled over him like a heavy blanket, suffocating what little hope he had left. He had clung to the belief that Suguru might be in better shape, that maybe, just maybe, Suguru could find a way to free them both. But the disturbing sight in front of him made it clear that they were both equally trapped, equally powerless, equally doomed.

When the feast finally ended, one of the girls approached Satoru, her smile a twisted mockery of warmth.

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asked, her tone dripping with cruelty. “I hope you didn't feel too left out.”

Before he could react, two other girls grabbed his arms and legs, dragging him to a wheelchair with a brutal efficiency that left him no room for resistance.

“Don't worry,” the first girl said with a sadistic smirk as she began to push the wheelchair out of the room. “You'll get to star in your own show as well.”

As they wheeled him away from Suguru, who now lay slumped and unconscious—or too drugged to even sit up—Satoru’s heart twisted with a deep, aching sorrow. The thought of leaving Suguru alone with those monsters, helpless and at their mercy, was almost more than he could bear.

He tried to keep himself grounded, reminding himself that he couldn’t afford to die here, couldn’t leave Suguru to face this hell alone. He needed to survive, if only to be with Suguru, to ensure that he didn’t have to endure this nightmare by himself.

With that grim resolve, Satoru braced himself for whatever fresh horrors awaited him as they wheeled him down the dark, labyrinthine corridors of this forsaken place.

Finally, they arrived at a chapel of sorts, a large room with high ceilings and a stained glass window that cast an eerie light over the scene. The sight of it made Satoru wonder if they were in some kind of abandoned hospital, or perhaps a school. But the thought was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the dread of what was to come.

The stained glass depicted a scene that caught Satoru’s eye, but he had no time to dwell on it before the girls roughly tossed him into another chair. This one was different—an old, wooden chair fitted with leather straps to bind his arms and legs. The sight of it filled him with a deep, bone-chilling fear.

Satoru’s gaze fell on a machine behind the chair—an archaic device that looked eerily like an electric power supply connected to a control panel. His breath hitched as realization set in, the dread in his gut turning to icy terror.

Satoru’s mind raced as he was strapped into the wooden chair, his limbs bound tightly by leather belts. The coldness of the leather against his skin contrasted sharply with the heat of panic rising in his chest. He knew what was coming, and the realization sent a wave of dread coursing through him.

The girl strapping him in chuckled as she noticed his wide-eyed fear. “Relax, love. I promise to go easy on you,” she whispered, her voice dripping with sadistic amusement. She gripped his jaw, forcing his head back as another girl placed electrodes on his temples, securing them with a head strap that felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

“Wait… no… stop,” Satoru pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation. He knew it was futile, but he couldn't stop himself. The words spilled out of him, raw and unfiltered. He knew what they planned to do, and every fiber of his being screamed for escape.

But they ignored him. To them, he wasn’t a person—just a vessel, a toy to be played with. They adjusted the machine behind him, their faces cold and detached, as if preparing a tool rather than a human being. He was a mere puppet in their twisted game, powerless to resist.

“Please… why are you doing this?” His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper now, his pleas met only with mocking glances.

“Aw, are you scared, baby?” one of them cooed, her tone dripping with false concern. Her mockery was a knife twisting in his gut, the laughter of the others ringing in his ears, a cruel symphony of malice.

The machine buzzed to life with a low, menacing hum, the sound of electricity crackling in the air. Satoru felt his heart race, each beat a thunderclap in his chest. The girl kneeling in front of him smiled sweetly, as though comforting a child, but her eyes were full of sadistic glee.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, her voice sing-song. “We’re going to turn on that machine, and it’s going to send a looooot of electricity through your brain.”

Her words hung in the air like a death sentence. Satoru’s eyes burned with a mix of fury and terror, wanting to lash out even as his body recoiled in fear. But he was paralyzed by helplessness, trapped between the primal urge to fight and the overwhelming despair of knowing it was useless.

“Don’t worry, we’ve set up speakers so you can enjoy a nice song while you’re at it,” she continued, her tone sickeningly sweet. “And look,” she gestured to the stained glass windows as light filtered through them, casting colorful patterns across the room. “Isn’t this a nice setting for your show?”

The colors from the stained glass swirled in his vision, taunting him with their false serenity. Satoru’s throat tightened, and in a final act of defiance, he spat in the girl’s face. She didn’t even flinch, merely wiping it away with a chuckle.

“All right then. Let’s begin.”

The girls exchanged a glance, and the music started. Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture filled the room, its powerful notes clashing with the buzzing of the machine. The grandiose melody, once a symbol of victory, now felt like a requiem.

Satoru tried to focus on the violin, drowning out all the other sounds, just as his violin instructor had taught him years ago. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the horror around him, but the fear gnawed at his insides, refusing to be ignored.

As the pace of the overture quickened, the girls flipped the switch. A searing jolt of electricity shot through Satoru’s body, and he screamed—a raw, guttural sound that tore through the air. His muscles convulsed violently, his back arching against the restraints as pain exploded in every nerve.

His vision blurred, the colors from the stained glass windows merging into a nauseating whirl of light. The music distorted in his ears, a twisted mockery of the once-beautiful melody. The pain was unbearable, his body thrashing uncontrollably as the electricity ravaged him.

When the first shock ended, Satoru sagged in the chair, his body trembling uncontrollably. His ears rang with a high-pitched whine, and the room spun around him. The light from the windows seemed to pulse in time with the pounding in his skull, each flash a reminder of the agony he had just endured.

But there was no respite. The second shock came, even stronger, ripping through him with brutal intensity. Satoru’s screams echoed off the walls, mingling with the overture’s crescendo in a nightmarish symphony. His body was no longer his own, every muscle seizing in a desperate attempt to escape the torment.

He lost track of how many shocks followed, each one blurring into the next, a relentless assault on his senses. The pain was all-consuming, his awareness reduced to the searing heat of electricity coursing through his veins. The once-brilliant colors of the stained glass windows now bled together in a sickening haze, their beauty corrupted by the violence he was being subjected to.

His mind began to fray at the edges, the pain carving deep into his consciousness. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—only endure. His body twitched involuntarily, a grotesque parody of life as the shocks continued to tear through him.

As the overture reached its grand finale, one last shockwave hit, and Satoru’s mind shattered under the onslaught. He thought he had slipped into unconsciousness, but the bitter truth was far worse: his mind had shut down, but his body remained wide awake, more alert than ever.

The girls approached him hesitantly as the machine powered down, their expressions a mix of awe and satisfaction. Satoru’s eyes, once a vibrant blue, now glowed with an unnatural brightness, flickering erratically.

He hung limp in the chair, his gaze vacant and unfocused as one of the girls lifted his chin to examine him. The eerie glow in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, but she quickly masked her unease with a triumphant smile.

“Looks like he's ready for Him,” the girl announced, her voice tinged with excitement. The others grinned, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Just one more push, and He shall awaken.”

They shared pleased glances, bumping fists and patting each other on the back in celebration of their success.

“How should we proceed?” one of them asked the girl kneeling next to Satoru, who seemed to be the leader.

“Get the other one in the truck. We’re moving on to the next stage,” she replied, her tone firm and commanding. She released Satoru’s face, letting it fall limply to his chest.

“I’ll get our honored one here ready and meet you in the parking lot.”

The girls nodded in agreement and dutifully filed out of the chapel, leaving the leader alone with Satoru.

She leaned in close, her fingers brushing against his hot, clammy skin. A wicked smile curled her lips as she looked at his now pliant, broken form.

“Just a bit more,” she whispered, her voice dripping with malice, “and you’ll finally be ours.”

The chapel fell silent, save for the faint hum of the now-dormant machine. The red light from the stained glass window bathed Satoru’s motionless body in an eerie glow, casting long shadows across the room.

The leader prepared to move him, her movements methodical and unhurried. This was just the beginning, and she knew that their prize was nearly within reach.

Chapter Text

The drug-induced haze in Suguru’s mind eventually dissipated, leaving him feeling nauseous and disoriented. His senses gradually returned, and with them came a sickening awareness of his surroundings. The world was still spinning slightly, but this time, it wasn’t just the remnants of the drugs. He was moving—being transported. The realization hit him like a train. He was in a vehicle, bound, blindfolded, and completely at the mercy of his captors.

Panic surged through him. He tried to gather his bearings, forcing himself to stay calm, but the darkness behind the blindfold only amplified his fear. He strained to make sense of the sounds around him—the hum of an engine, the occasional rattle as the vehicle hit bumps in the road. And then, a soft whine that barely pierced through the thick blanket of terror wrapped around his head.

His heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t just him in the vehicle. His legs bumped into something—no, someone. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him.

“Satoru..?” Suguru’s voice was barely more than a breath, trembling with both desperate hope and paralyzing fear.

The silence that followed was suffocating, dragging him down into a pit of despair. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard it—a faint, broken whisper, so weak it barely registered.

“…yeah.”

Relief washed over Suguru, so intense it left him dizzy. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Satoru! Oh thank god, thank god you're here,” he gasped, his voice cracking with emotion. He tried to move closer, but the ropes cut into his flesh, binding him too tightly. “Are you okay? Did those girls hurt you?”

He didn’t expect the answer that came. A bitter, hollow laugh that sent chills crawling down his spine.

“Hurt me?” Satoru’s voice was unrecognizable, laced with venom and something darker. “They fucking tried to kill me, Suguru. I should be dead.”

The words hit Suguru like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of him. Satoru’s tone was cold, detached, utterly devoid of the warmth and light that had always defined him. It was as if he had been hollowed out, leaving behind a shell that bore little resemblance to the person Suguru knew.

“Satoru… what did they do to you?” Suguru’s voice was barely audible, choked with dread.

“They cut me open and carved me up like a damn jack-o’-lantern,” Satoru scoffed, the horror of the words twisted by the disturbingly clinical way he spoke them. “They weren’t even careful when they stitched me back up. It’s probably infected—might even be necrotic by now.”

Suguru’s stomach churned violently at the detached way Satoru described his own mutilation, as if he were talking about someone else entirely. Thel coldness of it was almost more terrifying than the actual content of his words. It was as if Satoru had resigned himself to the inevitability of the situation, as if the fight had been beaten out of him.

“Satoru, no…”

“Yup,” Satoru’s voice dripped with a mix of bitterness and acceptance. “And then they fucking electrocuted me. They had a damn electric chair and everything.”

Suguru’s heart twisted painfully in his chest as he tried to imagine the torment Satoru must have endured, the sheer agony of it. He couldn’t. It was too monstrous, too inhuman to fully grasp.

“Satoru… I’m so sorry, I—”

“Whatever. It’s not your fault,” Satoru cut him off, the anger in his voice giving way to a raw, seething hatred. “It’s those damn psychopaths. They’re fucking sick.”

The fury in Satoru’s voice was terrifying in its intensity, so different from the loud, cheerful Satoru Suguru knew. It was like something had snapped inside him, something irreparable.

“I’ll get us out of here, okay? Just… you just need to hold on,” Suguru pleaded, his voice shaking as he tried to cling to hope, to something tangible that could keep the terror at bay.

“Get us out?” Satoru snorted, his disbelief palpable. “We’re never getting out of here, Suguru.”

“What? No, don’t say that. We’ll get out, I promise I’ll find a way, okay?”

“They’re going to fucking kill me,” Satoru hissed, his voice cutting through Suguru like a blade. The hopelessness in his tone was suffocating, wrapping around Suguru’s heart and squeezing until it ached. “They’ll never let me go. I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re not!” Suguru’s voice cracked with desperation, the sheer intensity of his denial almost a plea. “I’ll get us out. You’re not going to die, I won’t let them kill you, you hear me? I won’t let them. So stop saying those things, alright?”

His voice was firm, but he could feel the tremor in it, the edge of hysteria that he was desperately trying to keep at bay. The idea of losing Satoru, of failing him, was unbearable.

“Right…” Satoru sighed, but there was no life in it, no conviction. Just an empty, hollow sound.

Suguru kept trying to reassure him, kept repeating promises he wasn’t even sure he could keep. But it was no use. Satoru seemed so distant, his mind somewhere far away, disconnected from the reality of the present moment.

The car came to a stop. The sudden silence was deafening, thick with foreboding. Suguru’s heart pounded wildly as he heard car doors opening, footsteps crunching on gravel, and then the door to the van swung open.

Hands grabbed him roughly, yanking him out and throwing him harshly into the cold, wet mud. Suguru struggled, spitting out dirt, but the tight ropes kept him from doing much more than squirm. He heard Satoru being yanked out next, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud and then being dragged away.

“Hey! Where are you taking him?” Suguru shouted, panic gripping his heart as he imagined them torturing Satoru again, pushing him past the breaking point.

“Shut up,” one of the girls grunted, punctuating her command with a vicious kick to his stomach. “It's none of your business”

Suguru doubled over in pain, gasping for air. 

“None of my business? He’s my best friend, and you psychos are—”

Another kick silenced him, followed by a brutal punch to his face that left him spitting blood.

“Shut the fuck up before I kill you,” the girl hissed, pressing a cold blade against his throat. The sharp edge bit into his skin just enough to draw blood. “You’re irrelevant. Nothing but collateral damage. We have no use for you, so don’t test your luck.”

Suguru’s eyes filled with tears of pain and fury, but he bit his tongue, knowing he was completely at their mercy. The sound of crackling fire reached his ears, and his blood ran cold. His thoughts spiralled into a frantic panic—were they going to burn Satoru alive?

They ripped off his blindfold, the sudden light from the bonfire stabbing into his eyes like knives. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, and when he did, the sight that greeted him made his blood turn to ice.

Satoru lay motionless on the ground beside the fire, his eyes open but utterly lifeless. The emptiness in his gaze was haunting, a void that Suguru couldn’t bear to look into. The girls grabbed Satoru, dragging him into a sitting position, tearing his shirt off with cruel efficiency. Suguru’s stomach churned at the sight of the crude stitches running across Satoru’s abdomen, confirming every nightmare that had been whispered in the darkness of the van.

It was horrific. They had butchered him, and now, they were preparing for something even worse.

The girls formed a tight circle around the bonfire, their leader stepping forward with a large, ancient-looking book. She opened it with reverence, her voice rising in a chant that echoed through the trees. The language was foreign, guttural, sending shivers down Suguru’s spine. The others joined in, their voices merging into a rhythmic, ritualistic chant that grew louder with each passing second.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong. Suguru’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched helplessly. The air was thick with the stench of burning wood and something more pungent, something foul and otherworldly.

His eyes locked onto Satoru’s, searching for any sign of life, any hint of the person he once knew. But there was nothing. Satoru was gone, replaced by a hollow shell, staring blankly into the flames as if resigned to his fate.

Desperation fueled Suguru’s struggles, but the ropes held firm, biting into his skin with every futile attempt to free himself. His heart raced as he saw one of the girls heating a branding iron in the fire, the metal glowing a sinister orange. Another girl moved to Satoru, positioning him, spreading his arms and legs wide as if preparing him for a sacrifice.

“Hey! Don’t touch him!” Suguru screamed, his voice raw with terror as he fought against his restraints, but the girls ignored him completely, as if he didn’t exist.

"Stay away from him!" Suguru's scream tore through the night, raw and desperate as he crawled toward Satoru. He knew—deep down in the pit of his stomach—that he was powerless to stop what was about to happen. But he couldn’t just sit by and watch his best friend suffer. His voice cracked with despair, pleading, “No! Stop it! Get away from him!”

But the girl with the branding iron didn’t even flinch. She approached Satoru with a chilling calmness, her eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure as she held the searing hot metal just inches from his skin. The orange glow of the iron reflected in her eyes, giving her the appearance of a demon—merciless and inhuman.

Suguru’s heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm frantic and uneven. He strained against the ropes, every fiber of his being screaming in resistance, but the bindings held him fast, cutting into his wrists with each futile struggle. His voice rose in another plea, his words choked with the horror of what was to come.

"Please, no! Don't do this!" His cries echoed into the uncaring night, swallowed by the darkness and the unrelenting coldness of the ritual.

The leader’s voice swelled in a final incantation, her tone rising in a crescendo that sent a shiver of dread down Suguru’s spine. The other girls joined in, their chanting growing louder, faster, more frenzied, as if they were feeding off the terror in the air. And then, with a cruel grin twisting her lips, the girl pressed the branding iron against Satoru’s chest.

Satoru’s scream ripped through the night like a living thing, full of raw, unfiltered agony. The sound was inhuman, a wretched cry that seemed to vibrate through the very air, through Suguru’s bones, tearing at his soul with ruthless claws. The chanting of the girls didn’t falter; instead, it seemed to merge with Satoru’s cries, creating a grotesque symphony that echoed through the night. The fire crackled and spat, casting flickering shadows that danced with malevolent glee across Satoru’s contorted features.

Suguru’s world narrowed to that sound—the sound of Satoru’s suffering. He wanted to block it out, to unhear the horrifying noise, but it drilled into his mind, an unrelenting assault on his sanity. Each second stretched into an eternity, the air thick with the stench of burning flesh and the acrid scent of smoke. Helpless rage boiled inside Suguru, mingling with his terror and despair, a cauldron of emotions that threatened to overflow and consume him entirely.

Time lost all meaning as the twisted ceremony dragged on, every second an agonizing eternity. The world became a blur of firelight, screams, and the rhythmic, ritualistic chanting of the girls. It was a nightmarish tableau, a scene from the darkest depths of hell. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The chanting ceased. The fire was doused, plunging the clearing into darkness, the sudden silence almost as deafening as the noise had been. Suguru held his breath, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that it drowned out all other sound. He braced himself for whatever fresh horrors the girls had planned next, but nothing came. He blinked in confusion as the girls walked away, their faces impassive, their movements cold and mechanical. They climbed into their trucks, the engines roaring to life, and drove off into the night without a word, leaving Suguru and Satoru alone in the eerie silence.

Suguru’s mind reeled. It didn’t make sense. Why go through all of this, only to abandon them here? The ease of it all was unsettling, too simple, too surreal. But he couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t let his mind spiral into that abyss. Satoru was his priority.

He crawled to Satoru’s side, his heart hammering in his chest, each beat sending a fresh wave of dread coursing through his veins.

“Satoru… Satoru, hey, I’m here,” he said firmly, trying to keep his voice steady, to anchor them both in the reality of the moment. But there was no response, no flicker of recognition in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru’s breath caught in his throat as he reached out. When he saw Satoru’s chest, he gasped. The branding was worse than he had imagined—a swollen, red symbol, grotesque and angry, seared into Satoru’s flesh. It was the same symbol Suguru had seen scrawled on the wall during his failed escape, the same symbol that had been scribbled over Satoru’s pictures. Now, it was burned into his skin, a permanent mark of the unspeakable horror they had endured.

“Satoru… I’m so sorry, I…” Suguru’s voice cracked, tears spilling over. He felt utterly helpless, powerless against those girls who had brutalized Satoru in ways he couldn’t have imagined.

The sight of his best friend, battered and bruised, was devastating. The burnt, swollen skin from the iron branding was raw and angry, and there was nothing he could do to properly treat it. Below that, on Satoru’s abdomen, the stitches were clearly botched, the skin around them inflamed and red. The infection was spreading, and it was almost certainly going to get worse without immediate care.

Suguru averted his gaze, searching frantically for anything that might help them, but there was nothing. They were alone, surrounded by a dense, foreboding forest. There was no way to tell which direction might lead them out, especially since the girls’ trucks had split off into different paths.

It was a hopeless situation, but Suguru refused to let that be the end of them. He had to get help for Satoru, get him to Shoko so she could treat his wounds quickly. He had to.

“Satoru, hey, listen to me,” he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “We need to get moving. We can’t stay here, Toru.”

Satoru’s eyes remained fixed on the night sky, his gaze empty, as if he were somewhere far away.

“Satoru, come on, snap out of it!” Suguru nudged him with his elbow, desperate to pull him back to reality.

Slowly, Satoru turned his head, his eyes hollow as they met Suguru’s. The light that usually shone there was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness that made Suguru’s heart ache.

“Satoru, I need you to untie me so we can get out of here, okay?”

For a long moment, Satoru just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a dry, humorless laugh that sent a chill down Suguru’s spine. “I told you, we’re never getting out of here, Suguru.”

Suguru’s breath caught in his throat. The resignation in Satoru’s voice was terrifying, more so than the physical wounds. It was like he had already given up, resigned himself to a fate that Suguru refused to accept.

“Of course we are. We just have to start moving, and we’ll find a road to follow soon enough, okay?”

“No, we won’t,” Satoru said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“Yes, we will, Satoru. We’ll get out of here, I promise. But we need to start moving.”

“I can’t even move,” Satoru grunted, his voice harsh. “I can’t fucking sit up, let alone walk.”

“Then I’ll carry you!” Suguru’s voice cracked with desperation. “Please, Satoru, you can’t give up now. I won’t let you.”

“It’s pointless, Suguru. I’m—”

“No, it’s not!” Suguru shouted, the fear of losing his friend making him frantic. “Please, Satoru, all I need is for you to untie me. Then I’ll get us out of here, okay? Please… don’t give up now.”

Satoru blinked at him, his eyes distant. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Fine…” He raised his trembling arms, reaching for the rope binding Suguru’s wrists.

Suguru let out a shaky breath, leaning closer to make it easier for Satoru. It was a slow, agonizing process, but eventually, Satoru managed to loosen the knot, and Suguru’s hands were free. He quickly untied the rope around his ankles and stood up, feeling a wave of dizziness from the rush of blood returning to his limbs.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” Suguru said, stretching his stiff muscles before turning to Satoru. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Satoru grunted in pain as Suguru pulled him to his feet. His body was a wreck, every movement sending sharp jolts of agony through him. Suguru could feel Satoru trembling, his weight sagging heavily against him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Suguru whispered, his voice thick with guilt as he wrapped his arms around Satoru, holding him up. “I’m so sorry, Toru. I’m so, so sorry.”

Suguru’s tears flowed freely now, no longer held back. He wasn’t just apologizing for pulling Satoru up, but for everything—for not being able to protect him, for letting those girls hurt him so badly, for failing him as a friend.

Satoru’s arms came around him, weak but steady, and for a moment, they just stood there, holding onto each other. When Satoru finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm, detached in a way that sent a shiver down Suguru’s spine. “It’s fine, Suguru. Let’s just start moving like you said.”

Suguru pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Satoru’s face for any sign of the boy he knew. But all he saw was a cold determination, a will to move forward that seemed almost mechanical.

“You… are you sure?”

“Yes. Let’s go,” Satoru grunted, his expression set as he took a step forward, his movements slow and stiff, as if he were forcing himself through the pain.

Suguru swallowed hard, his heart aching for his friend. But he couldn’t afford to hesitate now. Satoru needed him to be strong, to lead the way.

“Okay… let’s go,” Suguru murmured, steadying Satoru as they began to walk, their steps uncertain but determined.

As they ventured into the dark unknown, Suguru couldn’t help but feel a growing unease gnawing at him. Just minutes ago, Satoru had been utterly hopeless, broken by everything he’d endured. But now, there was a strange determination in his steps, a shift that didn’t sit right with Suguru.

He told himself it was normal, just a reaction to trauma. Anyone would be shaken after what Satoru had gone through. Yet, the unease persisted, a cold knot tightening in Suguru’s chest. Satoru’s face was blank, his eyes empty, as if something essential had been stripped away.

In the back of his mind, a quiet voice whispered what he was desperate to deny.

Something’s wrong with Satoru.

Chapter Text

As they ventured deeper into the dark unknown, an unsettling unease gnawed at Suguru, growing with every step. Satoru walked beside him, his pace slow and unsteady, but there was something off about the way he moved—something that had changed in a matter of minutes. Just moments ago, Satoru had been on the brink of giving up, his spirit crushed by the horrors he had endured. But now, there was a strange resolve in his movements, a determination that felt disturbingly out of place.

Suguru tried to rationalize it, telling himself that it was only natural—a survival instinct kicking in after trauma. Satoru had been through hell; anyone would be shaken, anyone would be changed. But as they pushed forward through the shadowed forest, the unease tightened around Suguru’s heart like a vice. He kept stealing glances at Satoru, searching his face for something familiar, something to reassure him that his friend was still there. But Satoru’s expression remained distant, his eyes hollow, as if a part of him had been left behind in the nightmare they had escaped.

Each step felt like a descent deeper into uncertainty, and with every passing moment, the doubts in Suguru’s mind grew louder. He wanted to believe that Satoru’s sudden shift was just a coping mechanism, a temporary response to the dangers they faced. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more—something darker, something insidious.

The thought echoed in his mind, a chilling whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. Suguru clenched his fists, trying to banish the fear, to focus on getting them out of this nightmare. But the voice in his head only grew louder, feeding the dread that was slowly consuming him.

“Can you fucking stop?” Satoru suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Huh?” Suguru blinked, taken aback by the outburst.

“I can practically hear you sulking; it’s annoying the hell out of me.”

Suguru frowned, startled by Satoru’s unexpected irritability. “Sorry... I’m just worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” Satoru scoffed, his tone dripping with contempt. “If you’re really worried, then shut up and keep walking so we can get out of here before I fucking pass out.”

The anger in Satoru’s voice hit Suguru like a blow, making him wince. No matter how much he tried to brush it off, it was becoming painfully clear that something was seriously wrong with his friend.

There was something in Satoru’s eyes—something cold and alien—that made Suguru’s blood run cold. It was as if Satoru was moving on autopilot, his body present, but his mind somewhere far away, lost in the darkness they had barely escaped. And no matter how much Suguru wanted to convince himself otherwise, the truth was undeniable.

Satoru wasn’t himself. And that terrified Suguru more than anything else.

Suddenly Satoru began mumbling under his breath, his words fragmented and laced with a bitterness that made Suguru’s stomach twist. Though the words were nearly inaudible, the venom in Satoru’s tone was unmistakable, chilling Suguru to the core.

“Satoru? Hey, are you okay?” Suguru asked cautiously, his voice tinged with concern.

“Oh, yes, fucking peachy, Suguru,” Satoru spat back, his voice thick with sarcasm and anger. “Except for the fact that I was cut open, electrocuted, and then branded like fucking cattle. Other than that, yes, I’m having the time of my life, wandering aimlessly in a godforsaken forest in the dead of night. Thanks for fucking asking!”

His voice was low and guttural, a mixture of rage and despair that sent a shiver down Suguru’s spine, but before he could react, Satoru winced in pain and abruptly collapsed to the ground.

“Satoru!” Suguru dropped to his knees beside him, his hands hovering uncertainly over his friend, afraid that any touch might shatter what was left of Satoru’s fragile state. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“My head… it’s fucking killing me,” Satoru groaned, clutching his temples as if trying to hold his skull together.

“You’ve got a headache?”

“Yes, the worst fucking headache of my life. Worse than the ones I get from the Six Eyes,” Satoru gasped, his voice strained.

Suguru’s heart clenched at the sight of his friend shivering, his skin burning hot despite the cold sweat that had broken out across his forehead. 

“You’re burning up…” Suguru whispered, panic edging into his voice as he scanned the dark woods for something, anything that could help. “I… I don’t know what to do, Satoru. I don’t know how to help you.”

Satoru let out a low, humorless laugh that sent a jolt of fear through Suguru. The sound was distorted, a broken echo of Satoru's usual lightheartedness.

“You can’t help me, Suguru. I’m already gone,” Satoru muttered, his voice eerily calm as he pointed to his temple, mimicking a gun with his fingers. “Bang, bang.”

Suguru’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his friend laugh—a hollow, twisted sound that bore no resemblance to the Satoru he knew. It was as if Satoru's sanity had finally snapped, the last thread of control unraveling right before Suguru’s eyes.

“Satoru, hey!” Suguru grabbed his shoulders, shaking him desperately, trying to jolt him back to reality. “Come on, snap out of it!”

But Satoru’s laughter only grew more manic, devolving into something darker, more deranged. The sound filled the air around them, and then it distorted into gut-wrenching sobs that tore at Suguru's heart.

“Satoru, please!” Suguru pleaded, his own voice trembling with fear. “You’ve got to hold it together!”

Then, just as abruptly as it began, the sobbing ceased, and Satoru slumped forward, unconscious, into Suguru’s arms.

“Satoru??” Suguru cried out, his panic rising as he shook Satoru, trying to rouse him. “Fuck, Satoru, can you hear me? Wake up!”

Satoru’s skin had gone icy cold to the touch, and Suguru frowned in confusion. Only moments ago, he had been burning up with fever.

“Satoru, please wake up,” Suguru begged, lightly slapping his friend’s cheeks until Satoru finally stirred, blinking dazedly.

“Suguru…?” Satoru’s voice was faint, disoriented. “What… what happened?”

Relief washed over Suguru as Satoru regained consciousness. He gently brushed the hair from Satoru’s forehead with one hand while holding him close with the other.

“You passed out. You said your head was killing you,” Suguru explained, deliberately omitting the terrifying breakdown that had preceded Satoru's collapse.

“Yeah… my head feels like it’s going to explode,” Satoru muttered weakly, rubbing his temples as he squinted against the darkness.

“Wait, where are we?”

Suguru’s heart sank at the disorientation in Satoru’s voice. He sounded lost, confused, as if he didn’t remember where they were or how they had gotten there.

“Satoru, what's the last thing you remember?” Suguru asked carefully, his voice tight with concern.

“Huh? Uh… I think… those girls were taking me somewhere… like… a chapel? I think?”

Suguru exhaled slowly, trying to steady his racing heart. Satoru didn’t seem to remember the ritual or the branding. Suguru wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

“They took us to the woods,” Suguru began, his voice heavy with sorrow. “They… they did something to you. A ritual. They burned a symbol into your chest. I don’t know what it means, but…”

Satoru’s gaze drifted down to his chest, and he winced as his fingers brushed the swollen, angry red skin around the brand.

“What the hell… Is it a cursed seal or something?” he asked, his voice hollow.

“I don’t know,” Suguru said, shaking his head. “But back where they were keeping us, I found a room full of photos of us—mostly of you. They had that same symbol scribbled all over your pictures.”

Satoru stared at the brand on his chest, his expression unreadable. “Who… who are those girls? What do they want from us?”

“I don’t know,” Suguru replied, bitterness creeping into his voice. “But they seemed fixated on you. They said you were their target, that I was just collateral, someone they didn’t care about.”

Satoru’s frown deepened as he tried to process Suguru’s words. He opened his mouth to speak, but the pain in his head made him wince and curl in on himself.

“Satoru? Are you alright?” Suguru asked urgently, his hand rubbing Satoru’s back in a futile attempt to soothe him. He noticed that Satoru was shivering, his skin now cold and clammy to the touch.

“Yeah, it’s just… my head. It hurts so bad” Satoru murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though the pain was draining the life out of him.

Suguru nodded, trying to remain calm despite the dread gnawing at him. “Alright, just lay down for a bit. Try to get some sleep. I’ll keep watch, okay?”

But Satoru shook his head violently, pushing Suguru’s hands away. “No, I can’t. If I sleep now, I won’t wake up.”

“Satoru, you’re not—”

“I just know it, okay?” Satoru insisted, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. “We need to keep moving. I have to stay awake.”

Suguru hesitated, torn between the need to protect his friend and the fear that Satoru might be right. Finally, he sighed in resignation.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said softly, helping Satoru to his feet. But as they started moving again, it was clear that Satoru was struggling to stand, his legs barely able to support his weight.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Suguru offered, but Satoru stubbornly shook his head, forcing himself to take another shaky step forward.

“No, I have to keep walking. If I stop I’ll never get back up,” Satoru murmured, more to himself than to Suguru, his eyes unfocused as if he were trapped in some terrible dream.

Suguru watched him anxiously, his heart aching as he realized just how deep Satoru’s torment ran. This wasn’t just pain or exhaustion—it was something much darker, something that was slowly consuming the friend he once knew.

And as they stumbled through the darkness together, Suguru couldn’t shake the feeling that Satoru was slipping further and further away from him, lost in a place where he couldn’t follow.

•×•×•×•

They walked for what felt like an eternity, the darkness slowly giving way to the pale light of dawn. The sky was overcast, casting a gloomy shadow over the forest, but it was enough for Suguru to get a better look at Satoru’s condition.

As the early morning light filtered through the trees, Suguru’s heart sank at the sight of Satoru’s wounds. The skin on his chest was a furious red, swollen and angry where the branding iron had seared his flesh. On his abdomen, the stitches holding the wounds together were now inflamed, the edges tinged with a sickening yellow that signaled a severe infection. And as Suguru’s eyes traveled upward, he noticed the bruises on Satoru’s temples, dark and mottled, a cruel reminder of the electrocution he had endured.

Sorrow and rage twisted inside Suguru, his chest tightening as he took in the damage those sick girls had inflicted on his best friend. He wanted nothing more than to exact revenge, to make them pay for what they’d done, but he forced himself to focus on the here and now. They weren’t out of the woods yet, literally or figuratively, and Suguru knew he had to stay alert. If those girls came back, if they tried to take Satoru from him again… He couldn’t let that happen. He had to get Satoru to safety.

The thought of contacting Shoko was his only anchor in the storm of his mind. She could heal him, reverse the damage with her cursed technique. A hospital wouldn’t understand the nature of Satoru’s wounds—they needed something more, something that could counteract whatever dark ritual had been performed on him. Shoko was their best, perhaps only, hope.

Suguru cursed under his breath, frustrated by his own helplessness. If only he could use his cursed technique, they would be out of the forest and on their way to Shoko in no time. But every time he tried to summon his cursed energy, it was as if something blocked him, a wall he couldn’t break through. Whatever those girls had done, it had rendered him completely powerless.

And Satoru… Suguru didn’t have to ask to know it was the same for him. The strongest sorcerer in the world, reduced to this—wounded, vulnerable, and barely clinging to consciousness.

The thought that Satoru could die from these wounds gnawed at Suguru’s insides, a cold fear settling deep in his bones. He couldn’t lose him, not like this, not to this nightmare.

Suguru was so lost in his turmoil that he almost missed the sound—a faint rumble, growing louder. A car? His heart leapt in his chest. 

“A road!” Satoru’s voice was weak, but filled with a desperate hope. He suddenly lurched forward, stumbling out of Suguru’s grip as he pushed himself toward the sound.

“Satoru, wait!” Suguru called out, scrambling after him. They broke through the trees, and suddenly, there it was—a paved road cutting through the forest, a lifeline.

“We made it… we really made it,” Satoru whispered, his voice trembling with relief. But before Suguru could reach him, Satoru’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the pavement.

“Satoru!” Suguru’s voice cracked as he rushed to his side, pulling Satoru into his lap. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, and his skin was burning up again. Suguru’s breath hitched—how could his body temperature be fluctuating like this? One moment freezing, the next feverish. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right.

“Satoru, stay with me, okay?” Suguru pleaded, his voice wavering as he gently caressed Satoru’s cheek. “We’re almost there, just hold on a little longer. A car will come by, and I’ll get help for you, I promise.”

But Satoru didn’t respond. He just stared up at the sky, his eyes vacant, pupils blown wide. The sight sent a bolt of terror through Suguru, cold and paralyzing. Satoru looked like he could slip away at any moment, like death was already reaching for him.

“Satoru, please hang on,” Suguru whispered, his voice breaking as he cradled his friend closer, feeling the panic clawing at his throat. He had to stay strong, had to keep it together for Satoru’s sake. But the fear was overwhelming, a dark tide that threatened to pull him under.

All he could do was hold on and pray that help would come in time.

Right then, he heard the faint sound of a car approaching. Suguru's heart leaped as he gently laid Satoru down on the side of the road before springing up to signal the driver. Relief surged through him—maybe, just maybe, they were finally going to make it out.

The car slowed to a stop, and the driver rolled down his window. Suguru’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man—the same one he had freed during his initial escape attempt.

“It’s you,” the man nodded, his expression a mix of recognition and nervousness. “You’re not with those bitches, are you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Suguru shook his head rapidly, trying to convey urgency without panic. “We escaped from them, but…” He glanced back at Satoru and flinched at how dire his condition had become.

“My friend is really hurt. They did something awful to him. Please, he needs help,” he practically begged, his voice trembling with desperation.

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering over Satoru’s battered form. After what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded. “Alright, get him in.”

Suguru nearly collapsed with relief, a shaky, tearful gratitude bubbling up inside him. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

He hurried to lift Satoru, maneuvering him as gently as he could into the backseat before climbing in beside him. As the car began to move, the man spoke again.

“I think there’s a hospital not too far from here.”

Suguru considered asking to be taken somewhere else, somewhere safer where they could meet Shoko, but with Satoru’s life hanging by a thread, there was no time. The hospital was their best chance, at least until they could contact her.

“Yes, thank you,” Suguru murmured, his hand trembling as he stroked Satoru’s forehead, trying to keep him anchored to reality.

The driver glanced at them occasionally through the rearview mirror, but his focus remained mostly on the road. Suguru’s gaze fell on the man’s cell phone resting on the passenger seat. He hesitated before speaking up.

“Hey… could I borrow your phone? I need to make a call.”

The man glanced at him, his expression nervous. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Here you go.”

Suguru took the phone with a whispered thanks, his hands shaking as he quickly dialed Shoko’s number. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and with each ring, the knot of anxiety in his chest tightened.

Finally, the call connected. “Hello?”

“Shoko!” Suguru’s voice broke as a wave of relief washed over him. “Shoko, we need your help, please!”

“What? Suguru? Is that you?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s me!” His voice wavered, tears spilling down his cheeks as the reality of their situation hit him.

“Where are you? We’ve been trying to contact you and Satoru for the past week.”

A week. They had been missing for an entire week. Suguru’s mind reeled, but he forced himself to stay focused.

“Shoko, listen. We were kidnapped by some crazy girls, I think they're a cult or some shit. I don’t know what they want, but they hurt Satoru really badly. I’m scared he won’t make it if he doesn’t get help soon.”

“What? What’s going on? Where are you?”

“We’re on our way to a hospital, but Shoko, please, you have to come. He’s very sick, and his wounds… I can’t lose him! I can’t—” Suguru’s voice broke as he dissolved into desperate sobs, overwhelmed by the fear and helplessness that had been building inside him.

Shoko’s voice came through the phone, urgent but distant. “Suguru, focus. I need you to tell me where you are. What hospital are you heading to?”

Suguru tried to concentrate, but something was gnawing at him, a growing sense of wrongness that he couldn’t shake. His gaze drifted to the window, where he caught a fleeting glimpse of a van parked outside a convenience store. It looked familiar—too familiar.

“Suguru, I need you to tell me where you are,” Shoko’s voice pulled him back, but Suguru’s instincts were screaming. Something wasn’t right.

He replayed the events in his mind—the girls had just let them go, they’d found a road so easily, and now, the first car that stopped was driven by someone he’d already encountered. It was too convenient, too smooth.

Suguru looked outside again. The stores they passed were all closed, the streets eerily empty. His stomach twisted in fear.

“Hey, what’s the name of the hospital?” Suguru asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man hesitated, his tone uneasy. “Uh… St. Mary’s, I think? I’m not sure.”

Suguru’s blood ran cold. He glanced down at the phone in his hand, realizing there was no signal. The call had been cut off. Panic began to claw its way up his throat as he realized they had walked right into a trap.

“Hey… you… where are you taking us?” Suguru’s voice trembled as he asked, dread pooling in his gut.

The man sighed, his expression filled with regret as he reached for an old tape and slid it into the car’s radio. “I’m sorry, man. I had no choice.”

The haunting strains of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture filled the car, growing louder and more distorted with each passing second. Satoru whimpered weakly, stirring in Suguru’s lap.

“No, please, they want to kill him!” Suguru’s voice rose in desperation as he frantically tried to open the car doors, but they were locked tight. He pounded on the windows, panic fully setting in as he searched for a way out.

The music swelled, becoming almost unbearable, and Satoru cried out, covering his ears as he writhed in pain.

“Please! Let us out!” Suguru screamed, but it was useless. The car rolled to a stop in front of what looked like a hospital, but one look at the decaying facade told him the truth. It was abandoned, forgotten—no help was coming.

Instead, a group of those same girls emerged from the sidelines, approaching the car with predatory smiles.

“No… no, no, no! Don’t do this, please!” Suguru sobbed, his voice raw with terror as he turned to Satoru, who was now clawing at his own face in agony, the distorted music driving him to madness.

Before Suguru could move away, the car door swung open, and one of the girls yanked him out with brutal force.

“Did you miss us, love?” one of the girls teased, her voice dripping with malice as she and two others pinned Suguru to the ground. He struggled against them, his heart pounding in his chest, but it was no use—he was completely at their mercy.

From his position, Suguru could only watch in horror as the leader of the group slid into the car beside Satoru, leaning close to whisper something in his ear. Whatever she said made Satoru go unnervingly still. For a moment, Suguru thought he had passed out, but his blood ran cold when he saw Satoru step out of the car.

There was something deeply wrong in the way he moved—his motions were eerily smooth and robotic, a sharp contrast to the weakened, battered state he had been in just moments before.

“Satoru...?” Suguru’s voice trembled as he called out, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t see Satoru’s face, but he watched in horror as the leader handed him a hunting knife. Satoru accepted it without hesitation, his grip unnervingly steady.

Suguru was yanked to his knees and thrown roughly into the grass, landing beside the man who had betrayed them. The man’s face was pale with terror, mirroring the panic that was clawing its way up Suguru’s throat.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” The leader’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she grinned down at them. “You guys had a nice meal not too long ago, but our friend here... he’s starving.” She chuckled, patting Satoru’s back like he was some loyal pet.

“So, to make things even, we figured it was only fair to let him hunt you down to feed himself.”

Suguru’s heart lurched violently as the full weight of her words sank in. He didn’t need to look at the man beside him to know they shared the same, gut-wrenching fear. This couldn’t be happening—Satoru couldn’t be the one hunting them.

“Come on, get up. Make a run for it.” The leader’s voice was laced with dark amusement as she leaned in to whisper something else into Satoru’s ear.

Suguru’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Satoru’s hand tighten around the knife. Then, slowly, Satoru turned to face them.

Suguru’s blood turned to ice. The person standing before him wasn’t the Satoru Gojo he knew. The cheerful, confident boy who had been his best friend was gone, replaced by something twisted and monstrous.

Satoru’s once bright blue eyes had transformed into a menacing, glowing azure, and the whites of his eyes had turned pitch black. His face was contorted into an expression of pure malice, a grin stretching across his features that sent a shiver of terror down Suguru’s spine.

For a moment, Suguru was frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from the nightmarish figure before him. But then, the man beside him grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, urging him to run. His body felt heavy, uncooperative, but instinct kicked in, and he forced himself to follow the man’s lead, stumbling inside the abandoned hospital.

Behind them, a low, guttural growl cut through the early morning air, an inhuman sound laced with a hunger that froze Suguru to his core. He didn't need to look back to know it was the creature that had taken hold of Satoru, and it was coming for them. 

Chapter Text

Suguru sprinted through the labyrinthine hospital corridors, his feet pounding against the floor in rhythm with his racing heart. The sterile, flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows, twisting the once familiar hallways into something terrifying and unrecognizable. His breath came in ragged gasps, a sharp, painful reminder of how completely wrong everything had gone.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

Satoru—the strongest of them all—was supposed to be by his side, not transformed into a monstrous force now hunting him down. Suguru had never imagined that the person who had been his anchor, his friend, and more, would become the source of his deepest fear.

Each turn was disorienting. The white walls of the dimly lit hospital seemed to close in, suffocating him with their clinical sterility, a stark contrast to the dark, throbbing dread that clung to him. The endless corridors stretched on, twisting in ways that felt nightmarish, a reflection of the horror chasing him. The faint echo of heavy footsteps behind him was a constant reminder that Satoru—not his Satoru—was coming.

Suguru’s thoughts spun, caught in a whirlwind of memories. He could see Satoru’s bright smile, hear his laughter echoing in his mind, reminding him of how they had gone from mere classmates to something far more profound. The bond between them had deepened over time, their days and nights spent together—missions, training, even mundane moments like grabbing a meal or walking back to their dorms. Every hour had been intertwined with Satoru’s presence, filling Suguru’s life with a warmth he had come to crave.

They never said it aloud, but Suguru knew, deep down, that their friendship had grown into something more. Something unspoken yet undeniable. Their connection had shifted into a closeness that defied words, a fragile intimacy that neither dared to fully acknowledge.

He had been waiting for the right moment to tell Satoru how he really felt.

Now, as he ran, tears blurred his vision. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

Suguru had pictured a different future. He had imagined a world where he and Satoru weren’t just the strongest together on the battlefield, but where they could finally share the tenderness he had longed for. Nights where they’d lie beneath the stars, not talking about curses or missions, but simply enjoying each other’s presence. He had wanted quiet mornings, lazy afternoons, and ice cream dates, where the only thing that mattered was being with Satoru. That life had felt so close, so tangible—if only he could gather the courage to take that step.

But now, those dreams were nothing more than shattered fragments, lost in the wake of a terrible reality. The very person he had trusted with his heart, the one who had been the center of his world, had been turned into a force of destruction. He wasn’t running toward Satoru anymore; he was running from him. 

The echo of his own footsteps was punctuated by the heavy, deliberate thud of Satoru closing in behind him. Suguru dared not look back, his fear propelling him forward even as his legs began to feel like lead. He could almost hear Satoru’s guttural growls reverber. 

He skidded around a corner, nearly crashing into a wall as he tried to navigate the hospital’s chaotic maze. The silence between the echoes of his footsteps was filled with the sound of his pounding heart and the growing realization of his dire situation. His mind raced with fragmented thoughts of the ritual he had witnessed, the dark summoning that had turned Satoru into something unrecognizable. 

Suguru’s hands trembled, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to maintain control. The ritual, the failed escape, the knowledge of Satoru’s corruption—it all coalesced into a crushing weight that pressed down on him with every step.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

Beside him, the man who had once been their hope of freedom—now an unwelcome reminder of their predicament—was urging him on. His voice, strained and anxious, cut through Suguru’s haze of panic.

“Faster! We need to keep moving!” The man’s urgency only served to heighten Suguru’s own desperation. They tore through another corridor, the man’s hand clutching Suguru’s arm with a grip that was both frantic and insistent.

They burst into a small room, the man slamming the door shut behind them. Suguru’s breath came in heaving gasps as he tried to calm the storm raging within him. But the anger and grief surged uncontrollably, and he turned on the man with a violent intensity. His fists flew, striking the man repeatedly, each blow a manifestation of his helplessness and fury.

“You damn bastard! You did this!” Suguru’s voice was raw, laced with a deep, anguished cry that reverberated off the walls of the confined space. 

He didn’t stop; his rage was all-consuming, his punches fueled by the devastating image of Satoru twisted into something monstrous by the demon’s influence.

The man cowered, his attempts to shield himself futile against Suguru’s onslaught. Tears mingled with blood on his face as he tried to defend himself. 

“I HELPED YOU!” Suguru shouted, his voice cracking. “I HELPED YOU ESCAPE, AND YOU BETRAYED US! YOU LET THEM TAKE SATORU!”

Suguru’s fists continued to rain down, driven by a desperate need for answers, for some semblance of control in the face of overwhelming horror. 

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU LET THEM—” His voice cracked, faltering as the brutal reality of the situation crashed over him. The sight of Satoru, possessed and corrupted, was burned into his mind, an unending nightmare.

The man gasped, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth as he struggled to form words through the searing pain. His breath came in weak, uneven bursts, each one more labored than the last.

“I… I know what they did to him,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with fear and exhaustion.

Suguru froze, his grip on the man’s collar tightening as if the answer alone could stop everything from unraveling.

“What?” Suguru’s voice broke, a fragile mix of desperate hope and crushing dread. “You know what they did to Satoru?”

The man coughed, his body convulsing under the strain. “Yes… they…” His words faltered, but he forced himself to continue, spurred by something darker than his fear of death. “They didn’t just awaken his cursed technique… they amplified it. They tore through his mind, pushing his power past every limit… until the Six Eyes were bleeding raw.”

Suguru’s stomach lurched. “What do you mean?”

The man’s lips twisted into something between a grimace and a sneer, his body sagging as each word seemed to drain what little life remained. “They broke him. Shattered every barrier in his mind… forced the Six Eyes to see too much, too deep, too fast. And then… they called on the demon.”

Suguru's breath caught. “Demon?”

The man nodded weakly, his eyes glazed with fear. “A primordial one… an ancient entity they worship, older than any curse you’ve ever seen. It needs a vessel… and Satoru’s power, his cursed energy—it’s perfect. The demon is bound to him now, feeding off the limitless flow of cursed energy… corrupting it, distorting it. Every second, it grows stronger. Satoru’s body… his technique… they’re just tools to the demon.”

Suguru’s blood turned to ice. Satoru had become a conduit for something far more dangerous—a being that could twist and manipulate cursed energy into unimaginable forms. His power was no longer his own; it had become the weapon of a force too ancient and malevolent to comprehend.

“Why him?” Suguru’s voice was barely audible, a broken whisper. “Why Satoru?”

The man’s breath hitched, his strength waning fast. “Because… only someone with that kind of power could withstand it. Anyone else would’ve been devoured instantly… but with Satoru…” He coughed, more blood spilling from his lips. “The demon can harness his technique, control him… and eventually, it’ll consume him completely.”

Suguru's heart pounded in his chest as the weight of the man’s words sank in. The cult hadn’t just cursed Satoru—they had bound him to something that would erase everything he was. Every memory, every bond, every piece of Satoru that made him human would be swallowed up by the demon, leaving behind only a hollow, monstrous shell.

Before Suguru could even process the horror of it all, the heavy, deliberate sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. His breath caught in his throat.

Satoru—or rather the demon—was closing in.

“Shit… come on, we gotta hide,” Suguru hissed, his voice laced with urgency and dread. He hauled the injured man to his feet and dragged him toward a nearby closet. They squeezed inside, huddling in the cramped darkness, their breaths coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

“It’s pointless… he’ll find us,” the man muttered with a tone of resigned despair that only deepened Suguru’s sense of dread.

“Shut up,” Suguru snapped, though his own fear mirrored the man’s bleak assessment. The reality of their situation was an unbearable weight on his shoulders, each sound from the hallway a chilling reminder of the danger closing in on them.

The door to the room slammed open with a resounding crash. Suguru’s heart raced as he pressed back against the closet wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. The growls from outside were low and menacing, reverberating through the walls and making his skin crawl.

The demon’s presence was a suffocating blanket of terror, and Suguru’s fear was a living, breathing entity that threatened to overwhelm him.

The closet door was ripped open with an inhuman strength, and the demon’s hand shot inside, grabbing the man and flinging him across the room with a bone-shattering force. The man’s body collided with the wall, crumpling into an unnatural heap. The impact echoed like a grotesque drumbeat, adding to the nightmarish symphony of terror.

Suguru stood frozen, his body locked in place by sheer horror as the grotesque scene unfolded. The creature that had once been Satoru let out a deep, guttural growl, reverberating through the air with a malevolence that turned his blood cold. The sound was unnatural, a twisted perversion of the voice he had known so well—now warped beyond recognition.

When the creature turned to face him, it wore Satoru’s face like a mask, grinning with a sickeningly wide mouth that stretched the familiar features into something monstrous. Those once-bright eyes—eyes that had been filled with life and joy—were now hollow, burning with an insatiable, dark hunger. Whatever part of Satoru had lived in them was gone, consumed by the entity that now controlled him.

“Suguru Geto…” The voice was a broken echo of Satoru’s, distorted and layered with something far older, far crueler. It growled his name with an almost fond familiarity, though it was laced with mocking cruelty. “My best friend…” The words dripped with venom, and the creature laughed—a low, chilling sound that seemed to pulse through the room, distorting the very air between them.

“You’re not him,” Suguru whispered, his voice raw with grief. Tears blurred his vision, but he refused to look away. He couldn’t, not when faced with the terrible truth. “You can wear his face, use his technique, but you’ll never be him.”

The demon chuckled, a grotesque parody of humor. It stepped closer, its movements slow, deliberate, savoring Suguru’s fear as if it were feeding on it. The creature towered over Suguru in a way that made him feel small, insignificant. The demon’s presence was suffocating, an oppressive force of pure malice that dwarfed everything else.

“Satoru Gojo is a fragile thing,” the demon hissed, amusement dancing in its hollow eyes. “So powerful, yet so easy to corrupt. His soul is already fractured. All it takes is to widen the cracks, and then he'll give up.”

Suguru’s heart hammered in his chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed his rising panic. “You haven’t won yet,” he spat, though his voice trembled. “Satoru’s still in there. He’ll fight you. He won’t let you take him.”

The demon laughed, a horrible, rumbling sound that filled the room. “Fight me?” It leaned in, its face inches from Suguru’s, foul breath hot against his skin. “He’s already lost, Suguru Geto. Every moment that passes, he slips further away. And you know what will finally break him?”

Suguru’s stomach twisted as the demon’s clawed hand shot out, wrapping around his throat with crushing force. His back slammed against the wall, the pressure cutting off his air and sending waves of panic through him.

“All I have to do is kill you,” the demon whispered, its voice a poisonous murmur. “Do you know what that will do to him? Watching me tear you apart? He’ll never forgive himself” Its eyes gleamed with a sadistic satisfaction. “His mind will shatter, his will crushed. And then, he will be mine completely.”

Suguru’s breath hitched, fear slicing through him like a blade. The demon’s words rang with a cruel truth. If Satoru blamed himself for Suguru’s death—if he believed he was responsible—it would destroy him from the inside out. The guilt and sorrow would be unbearable. The demon wouldn’t need to fight for control; Satoru would surrender it, piece by broken piece.

The demon tightened its grip, leaning in so close that Suguru could feel the decay radiating off it, smell the rot that clung to the once familiar form. “What’s the matter, Suguru Geto?” it taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “Are you scared?”

Suguru gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet the demon’s gaze despite the terror clawing at his insides. The eyes that stared back at him were empty, devoid of anything human—just a black, swirling void where light had once shone.

The demon’s tone shifted suddenly, turning saccharine, almost playful. “Don’t worry,” it cooed, patting Suguru’s cheek with grotesque tenderness. The touch made his skin crawl. “I won’t kill you just yet. I still need you to do something for me”

Suguru’s heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in his stomach as the demon’s smile widened, stretching Satoru’s face into something horrifyingly inhuman. The worst was still to come.

The demon turned away, its attention shifting to the man lying crumpled on the floor. It walked over slowly, savoring each step with a deliberate, sadistic slowness. The man’s body lay in a grotesque heap, blood pooling around him in a dark, spreading stain. The demon’s movements were predatory, as if it were approaching a piece of meat to be savored rather than a human being.

Suguru watched in horrified disbelief, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the demon crouched beside the man. The creature’s face was illuminated by the dim light, casting eerie shadows that danced across its features as it prepared to indulge in its gruesome feast. The sight was beyond anything Suguru could have imagined, a nightmarish blend of horror and cruelty that left him paralyzed with terror.

“Oh, I’m starving,” the demon murmured, crouching beside the man. Its voice was a low, rumbling purr that sent shivers down Suguru’s spine. “You did quite a number on him, Suguru,” it chuckled darkly, glancing over its shoulder with eyes glowing ominously. “It’s a shame we don't have much time. I like to play with my prey before a feast”

Suguru’s stomach churned violently as he watched the demon raise the man’s arm to its mouth. The creature’s tongue flickered out, slithering over the bloodied wounds with a disturbingly sensual slowness. The sight was horrifying—each lick of the demon’s tongue left a wet trail on the man’s mutilated flesh, the blood dripping in slow, thick droplets that splashed onto the floor.

His breath caught in his throat, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake him as the demon’s eyes fixed on him, filled with an unsettling, sadistic delight. “Hmm… it’s not prime meat, but it’ll do,” the demon mused with a grin that split its face wide and inhumanely. 

The grin was grotesque, a mockery of the once familiar features of his best friend. It then sank its teeth into the man’s flesh, tearing through muscle and sinew with a sickening crunch that echoed through the room.

Suguru’s horror reached a fever pitch as he witnessed the creature devour the man’s flesh with ravenous abandon. The sight was a grotesque, nightmarish parody of the person he had once known and cherished. The demon worked with a predatory efficiency, ripping and chewing with a brutal ferocity that left Suguru paralyzed, unable to look away despite every instinct screaming at him to escape. The demon’s gaze kept flickering back to him, its eyes gleaming with a twisted, sadistic pleasure as it reveled in Suguru’s torment.

“What’s wrong, Suguru?” the demon taunted, its voice now eerily identical to Satoru’s. The jarring contrast between that familiar sound and the monstrous being before him twisted the knife deeper into Suguru’s heart. It was a mockery, a cruel perversion of everything Suguru had cherished. “Are you scared of me now?”

“No… shut up…” Suguru’s voice shook, torn between fear and despair. Hearing Satoru’s voice—once so joyous—now twisted into something so unnatural was unbearable. It cut through him like a knife, each word shredding the fragile threads of his composure.

The demon grinned wider, the smile a grotesque parody of Satoru’s usual playful expression. “Don’t be mad at me, Sugu. I was just so hungry…” The sickly sweet tone made Suguru’s stomach churn, and the grin—stretched too far, too inhuman—held an unsettling, carnivorous delight. “I never held it against you when you ate my flesh.”

Suguru’s world seemed to tilt, his heart turning to ice as the demon’s words sank in. Ate my flesh. The grotesque revelation hit him like a punch to the gut, sending waves of nausea and revulsion through him. The very thought that he had unknowingly done such a thing was a nightmare beyond comprehension.

“Shut up. I never—” Suguru began, his voice cracking, barely able to form the words. His revulsion was palpable, choking him as his mind struggled to reject the horrific implications.

The demon’s eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction. “I didn’t want to tell you, but we’re best friends, right?” It leaned closer, its voice turning saccharine, dripping with false affection. “Best friends tell each other everything… including when one eats the other’s insides.”

Suguru’s breath caught in his throat, the horror of the demon’s words tightening around him like a noose. His knees gave out as the sickening laughter erupted from the creature, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated off the blood-slicked walls, echoing through the room like a death knell. It was a sound that embodied everything Suguru had lost, everything that had been defiled.

And he was powerless to stop it.

The demon bit down harder on the man’s flesh, the sound of tearing flesh and crunching bones reverberating in the confined space. Blood sprayed outwards in grotesque arcs, splattering across the walls and pooling on the floor in a thick, dark puddle. The demon’s jaws worked with a ravenous efficiency, each bite more savage and depraved than the last, as though it were savoring every moment of Suguru’s torment.

“Was it delicious?” the demon taunted with a sickening edge of mockery, its voice back to the deep, menacing tone. “Did you enjoy eating your dear Satoru’s flesh?” The demon’s voice was dripping with malice, each word a deliberate attempt to pierce Suguru’s heart.

“SHUT UP!” Suguru screamed, his voice cracking under the immense weight of his horror and fury. The nausea surged within him, a sickening wave that threatened to overwhelm him as the demon’s revelation crashed down on him. The grotesque scene before him, combined with the knowledge that he had been unknowingly forced to consume Satoru’s flesh, twisted his insides into a knot of despair and revulsion.

But the demon only laughed, a cruel, guttural sound that filled the small, blood-soaked room with an echo of pure malevolence. It continued to tear into the man’s flesh with brutal enjoyment, each savage bite a stark reminder of the nightmare that had overtaken Suguru’s life. 

Then, the faint wail of sirens pierced the silence, growing louder as they approached. The demon paused, its grotesque grin faltering, replaced by a fleeting look of mild disappointment.

“Ah, time’s run out,” it sighed, the casual indifference in its tone sharp and infuriating. It sounded almost annoyed, as if being interrupted during a trivial task. Suguru’s fists clenched at his sides, his blood boiling with the sheer audacity of the demon’s nonchalance. It was toying with him, taking pleasure in his anguish as if none of it mattered.

“I wouldn’t want to be caught up in this mess…” The demon’s words dripped with mockery, its twisted amusement only deepening the fury rising within Suguru. But before he could respond, the demon merely smirked, reveling in his rage.

“We’ll meet again very soon, Suguru Geto…” it purred, its voice slipping into a grotesque imitation of Satoru’s once-lighthearted laugh—a sound Suguru had once cherished, now perverted beyond recognition. The laugh was filled with a chilling malice, echoing with a dark promise.

And just like that, the demon collapsed, Satoru’s body crumpling to the ground, limp and lifeless. The abruptness of it, the sudden absence of that malevolent presence, left the room heavy with a suffocating silence. Suguru remained frozen, his breath shallow, his chest constricted with the weight of what he had just witnessed.

Satoru lay before him, surrounded by the gruesome aftermath of the demon’s rampage—blood pooled beneath his body, mingling grotesquely with the remains of the man who had fallen victim to the demon’s insatiable hunger. The sight of Satoru, so vulnerable and broken, amidst such horror, was too much for Suguru to bear. His mind reeled, unable to reconcile the grotesque reality with the image of his best friend—the one he had loved, the one who had been his everything.

For what felt like hours—though it could have only been moments—Suguru remained motionless, paralyzed by the sheer brutality of it all. His thoughts crashed violently against one another, each more chaotic and despairing than the last.

The police burst into the room, their guns drawn, their expressions grim as they surveyed the blood-soaked scene. Their eyes landed on Suguru, kneeling amidst the carnage, and within seconds, they moved in. He didn’t resist as they restrained him, the cold cuffs biting into his wrists, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the emotional agony that consumed him.

The world outside blurred as he was shoved into the back of a police car, the flashing lights of ambulances and squad cars casting the early morning in alternating washes of red and blue. Through the haze of his grief, Suguru caught sight of the paramedics lifting Satoru onto a stretcher, his body limp and fragile beneath the harsh lights. The sight tore at him, a fresh wave of anguish crashing over him, drowning him in helplessness.

He wanted to move, to scream, to fight his way out of the police car and to Satoru’s side. But the crushing truth held him in place. Satoru was a prisoner, trapped in his own body, battling the demonic presence that had taken control. Suguru could do nothing but watch as the person he loved was carried away, powerless to protect him from the nightmare they were now both ensnared in.

As the police car sped away, the world outside became a disorienting blur. Suguru stared ahead, unseeing, his thoughts spiraling into an endless abyss of horror and grief. The hospital, the blood, the twisted mockery of Satoru’s voice—all of it swirled together in a nightmarish fog, too overwhelming to process.

Numbness crept in, spreading through him like a cold, consuming void. It hollowed him out, stripping away everything until there was nothing left but an aching, endless emptiness where hope had once lived.