"Satoru, come back to bed," the tired voice of Geto Suguru groaned.
It was odd. When Suguru was around, all Satoru could do was forget the world. He sat on a cold leather stool looking out over Tokyo, doing all he could to look past the crystal blue eyes that stared back at him in the slight reflection.
Not quite morning yet, but still light enough to see the outline of the city against his twenty-year-old body that was hunched over on the stool. It wasn't his and Suguru's first big business trip together, but it felt a little uneasy, possibly because Suguru kept insisting they be careful and maintain a more prestigious image around others.
"Yeah, yeah," Satoru mumbled with a hushed smile.
He shut the curtain on the window, as if anyone could make out the view of their penthouse suite. The windows were tinted to ensure that was impossible, but Satoru took the precaution; otherwise, Suguru would complain again. It wasn't Satoru's fault he didn't feel the need to hide himself away.
When Satoru turned to see the bed, all he could make out were the curves of Suguru's body twisted in the sheets. Satoru exhaled through his nose before stretching his shoulders. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the cool touch of silk against the back of his thighs.
He laid down, fully awake, tugging the blankets loose from Suguru's grasp. With one motion, Satoru pressed his body against Suguru's. He felt himself immediately throb as their flesh met.
"It's too early, Satoru," Suguru whispered, but he wiggled even closer.
Almost instinctually, Satoru's hips rotated in place, prodding Suguru's bare body. That's how Suguru always was. He would complain about the situation, but never denied himself when Satoru asked. It became so typical that Satoru didn't have to part his lips to start their procession.
Being able to touch Suguru's firm yet ample pecs, taste the nape of his neck, feel his hair against Satoru's stomach–that was all the holy preceptor between Satoru's thighs cared for. But the fact Suguru loved him made Satoru that much more insatiable.
"Just hand stuff, okay? My jaw still hurts," Suguru's whispers became quiet moans.
Satoru panted, "Haa, sure. Whatever you say."
When they were finished, morning light had begun peeking in through the edges of the curtains. Satoru laid on his back with his hands behind his head and a satisfied smirk on his face. There was no better way to wake up in the morning.
"Are we getting breakfast before we meet up with the girl?" Suguru asked.
"I'm surprised you want to eat any more than you already did," Satoru giggled to himself.
Before he could react, a pair of socks barreled into his left eye with precision aim. He grit his teeth in irritation, but knew he was asking for the response. Satoru wasn't even on board with this whole dignitary mission his family had sent him on. What was the point of meeting up with some banker's daughter in the first place? She was just a kid; it's not like Satoru was some kind of lolicon.
"Just get ready. It's not like I want to do this either," Suguru grunted, pulling a shirt over his back.
"And why are you here anyway? All I know is I came to check in and you were already waiting with my room key in hand," Satoru muttered.
"Unlike some people," Suguru turned and tossed a pair of fitted black pants and underwear on Satoru's chest. "Don't have all your familial connections."
"You couldn't just say you were jealous of the brat?" Satoru pulled the underwear on.
"My apparent breakfast should leave you empty for at least a few hours. So, even if I was jealous, not like I have anything to worry about," Suguru smiled, gently tying his hair in a bun.
Satoru pouted, "Wow. Can't even trust me. This is why the boys say I'm whipped."
"What boys? You mean Shoko? Please. We both know she is just jealous that unlike us, she has to work for a living," Suguru said.
"So, you're finally off your high horse about wealth inequality?" Satoru said.
"Not a chance. I'm kind of jealous of Shoko myself, didn't think she had it in her to turn over all that cash every year. It is the rich who should take care of the poor, which is the proper structure of an effective society," Suguru waved his finger in the air.
"I'll be sure to let your private jet pilot know that," Satoru scoffed.
"I work to make money so I can change the future. You'd know that if you focused on what I had to say more than back shots," Suguru looked to the ground.
"Whatever whatever. Blah blah blah. It's always about poverty and restoring the world with you. But when it comes time to it, you bend to my will. So, who truly holds the power here?" Satoru smiled.
"I think you illustrated my point pretty expertly without meaning to. Now get dressed before I take the girl out for myself and tell her bad things about you," Suguru laughed.
That was how it went, right? Thinking back, the details were starting to get blurrier and blurrier. Were they twenty? No, they were nineteen, or maybe eighteen. It was aggravating that the only thing Satoru could remember was the sex and part of their conversation that morning.
It had been years, not to mention the few years he had spent in time limbo. That was what he had started calling it at least. The time lost to restarts, or as Itadori dubbed them, "replays." Saying it like that made the whole situation feel more like a game. But it wasn't. There was more to the story about that banker, or investor, or whoever he was. More importantly, there was more to his daughter's story.
--
"My name is Amanai Riko. I am the girl you were sent to meet," the short, dark-haired girl smiled with her arms crossed confidently.
"Huh? Really? When my dad said 'brat,' I was thinking that you were a year younger, not some girl barely out of diapers!" Satoru shouted.
Amanai frowned. Her lips pouted together like a cartoon character as she looked dejectedly at the floor. Her crossed arms seemed less confident and more defiant as time went on.
"Satoru! Don't be an idiot. Even if she is a kid, she is still a very important person," Suguru attempted to become a buffer in the situation.
"Shut your mouth, new blood," Amanai hissed.
Suguru didn't say another word, just dropped his brows and wrinkled his forehead. With a single motion, his arm jetted forward and flicked Amanai between the eyes.
"How much do you think we could sell her for?" Suguru narrowed his already slim eyes.
Amanai's pupils shrank into grains of sand, "S-sell me?!"
Maybe if they would have actually sold her instead of picking on the girl, things would have gone differently the first time. Between the two of them, Suguru had to be more admirable in the situation. Rather than letting a small girl's ignorance get to him, he just chose to bully her a little. Even when he said that line, he had a smirk on his face.
Neither Satoru nor Suguru were bodyguards. They were gifted in martial arts, yes, but that had rarely been tested. Despite that fact, neither man could resist boasting about their strength when it came to those around them. That was the way of their affiliation, wasn't it?
"To the right person, I'm sure she'd catch a good price. What do you think? Couple mil'? Or are we talking about for parts?" Satoru peered down at the young, high school-aged Amanai.
"Why not one, then the other?" Suguru held out both hands as if he were a scale.
"Keen businessman as always, Sugi! This is why you became a billionaire!" Satoru cheered.
"Wha- No! Please! Don't do this!" Amanai fell to her knees, clasping her hands in prayer.
Suguru readied both hands, flicking her in each brow, "That's two for being so gullible. Now come on, kid, big brother Satoru and I told your father we would take you out for a meal."
"Big brother Satoru!?" the white-haired man shouted, falling on his heels.
Amanai's eyes were red as if she were genuinely going to cry. The face of a child with her whole future in front of her. Satoru couldn't help but see himself in her, she was more like him than Suguru after all. Just a sheltered brat–a good kid probably but sheltered.
"What kind of cake do you like?" Satoru mumbled the question as they left the hotel lobby.
Rather than travel by car or in a pack of guards, Suguru said it would be better if they acted as average pedestrians. Sure, their clothes were all designer, but who stopped and stared long enough to notice? As long as they remained at least slightly low-key they would fly under the radar of most if not all people. However, guards still followed behind and traveled the street they journeyed.
"I guess... chocolate? No, no, strawberry!" Amanai smiled as if their previous fight hadn't happened.
The whims of a child were an enigma to Satoru. Maybe that was one of the differences between her and him. Her destiny wasn't set in stone; sure, her father was influential, but not to the same level as the Gojo clan. He was one of the big three influences in Japan, after all.
There was the Zen'in group, which practiced a lot more commercial and underground trafficking rings. There was a saying about prisons in Japan: if you were there and someone offered you contraband, it was from a Zen'in connection. The rats of the underworld that thought they were wolves. To the Gojo family, they were beasts nonetheless.
Then there were the Kamo clan members. That group was always steady on its feet. Though they did experience a lot of misfortune due to the past family head's devious business schemes. They say he was one of the major funders to the cults of Japan, though that had never been exactly proven.
"What about you, Gojo?" Amanai asked.
Satoru had lost himself in thought, "Oh, I think strawberry or raspberry cake are the best."
"For Satoru, the sweeter, the better," Suguru smiled.
If they were alone, Satoru would have grabbed Suguru's face and whispered something like, "that's why I like you." Alas, they weren't. Amanai was too observant for talk like that. Any business for the bedroom would have been too much for her mind to hide for sure. For the time being, Suguru would remain as Satoru's "best friend." But he would definitely pay for that comment later.
"I noticed you call each other by your given names, are you close?" Amanai asked, walking two steps in front of the men.
Suguru blushed, "Um, yes. We are good friends."
"In that case, I'd like both of you to call me Riko. Since we are inevitably to meet again, that seems the best course of action," the girl smiled.
"Sounds like a plan, Riko," Satoru smirked.
That was what was supposed to happen, right? Instead, something else did. What was it again? Satoru's memory had wavered on that for so long. A life lived over and over again could only retain so much. How they got to the point was difficult to say, but Satoru did remember his face.
--
The man who must have been only a few years older than Suguru and Gojo spat blood on the pavement. His toothy grin was broken with chipped and missing teeth. More importantly, Satoru struggled to hear what he was saying.
Why did his eye struggle to open? Why was it difficult to focus on any spot of light? Oh, that was right. The man on the ground spitting his teeth out was responsible. But what did he do?
Satoru's throat ached. It felt as if he had eaten glass. Someone was breathing so loudly. Then, through the piercing screeches of his eardrums, the white-haired man could tell it was himself who was breathing so intensely. As his hearing came back, it felt like he had entered a conversation he had missed most of.
"You piece of shit! You were raised better than this! You had a future and you threw it all away? For what?" Suguru muttered, then kicked the smiling man in the stomach who lay across from Satoru.
"Su... Suguru," Satoru choked out the words.
Suguru's narrow eyes were painted with sweat, hair, and blood. His left wrist was hanging limp at an angle it shouldn't have been. Satoru let his head hit the pavement beneath him, and then he saw her.
Riko was dead. At the hands of that beast, what was his name again? It didn't matter. Suguru had kicked him half to death by the looks of it. If only he didn't have to be the one. If only Suguru didn't have to be the person to avenge Riko.
Her body lay lifeless with thick dark blood dripping from her. She must have died several minutes before. The amount of blood had lessened to the point it looked like a jug had spilled. It was the first time Satoru had seen someone die in front of him. Then he looked down at his own body.
His stomach was butchered, but the pain wasn't registering. Maybe it was all too much to process? The day hadn't been that late. Daylight had barely faded to the stained glass sky of evening.
Then Satoru felt it come back to him, he shouted, "Enough, Suguru!"
The shaggy-haired man rolled to his side with a moan as Suguru kicked him once more. Soon the sirens came into hearing distance. Someone must have called, one of the guards maybe? No, they were nowhere to be seen. What happened?
"You're supposed to have a better life than this! And now you take some kid's away? Zen'in Toji!" Suguru's eyes twitched.
Zen'in Toji survived the beating. Amanai Riko was declared dead on the scene from a stab wound. Gojo Satoru survived rather miraculously; his major organs were mostly missed. That was what changed the trajectory of both men's lives.
--
"I say we kill 'em all. I don't care," Satoru mumbled, feeling the pain from where his stitches had been.
There was only a slight pink scar left where the knife had entered him. Zen'in Toji had apparently been able to escape a harsh sentence due to his connections. The Zen'in family didn't take responsibility for him; it was an unknown benefactor that led the murderer to freedom.
"Satoru, we can't even find the guards who were involved. Riko's father doesn't even seem interested in pursuing this further," Suguru said, leaning his head on Satoru's shoulder.
His hair smelled of cherry blossom; Suguru must have changed shampoo. The long-haired man hadn't left Satoru's side in ages. His business dealings were all handled without him needing to be present. Their lives were so different.
While Satoru had some responsibilities, his money worked for itself. That was the nature of his wealth. Suguru had called it "old money," but that meant nothing to Satoru. The cost wasn't important if it meant avenging Riko.
"Just because we were watching her doesn't mean we have to feel responsible for her death," Suguru said.
"How can you say something like that? She was just a girl!" Satoru shouted.
Suguru exhaled, "It's the game we play. It's the game I chose to play. I feel bad, sad really. Angry too. That won't change the fact she died. We weren't escorting her anywhere. It was clearly a planned event from someone who knew more than they should have," Suguru looked up through his bangs.
"You're right, I know you are. But I can't let that be the end," Satoru said.
That was the last real conversation the men had. Then, over a few years, Muta Kokichi fell into Satoru's line of sight. The young man was a genius, not even an adult but he had accomplished so much. All of Satoru's searches only led to finding information on Muta's achievements – nothing about what he was after or why he dedicated himself to technology.
In many ways, Muta reminded Satoru of Suguru. That was the first and last man he ever loved. It wasn't just Riko that had been killed that day, but a part of Satoru himself. Muta had his own motives for doing what they did. It was a different girl, her name escaped Satoru.
"So, you're really okay with doing this?" Satoru asked, his head half-cocked.
"Why wouldn't I be? We spent years on this, right? Let's get this over with before either of us think through what we are actually doing," Muta scoffed.
Muta Kokichi's face was scarred. His eyes were milky with exhaustion and lips chapped from nights in Satoru's manor. That was what it meant for the two of them to achieve such an unfounded thing. There wasn't a great way to test their invention other than on themselves. All the tests were short distances, gradually increasing over time, but they never leapt back more than a month.
They called it merging, when in reality it was very different than that. Time could be broken into nodes. These were events of chance and of fate. Items of chance could be affected by sheer coincidence. This meant you couldn't rely on a coin flip or any other deciding factor to see the future shaped. Sports games started with a coin toss, meaning there were only two possibilities in which the game could go.
There was no studying the events of chance; they were too random and sporadic to understand. Fated events were different; those nodes always occurred. There wasn't a way to go back in time and stop the United States from dropping bombs on Japan, at least they assumed after their first and only attempt to change a fated node.
--
!
The goalpost was set to six months before Riko's death, almost seventeen months before the event Muta wanted to change. Sure enough, Satoru felt his consciousness and memories enter the body of his younger self. His stomach was no longer marked with a scar from his mistake. The nature of their machine was rather simple on the surface but held many details Satoru couldn't wrap his head around.
For one, the machine remained wherever it was set off. This meant the construction needed to be in a location where it could exist; otherwise, it would overwrite whatever was there to begin with. That didn't prove to be much of a problem when they only sent themselves back a day or a week. However, prolonged periods of time presented a larger margin of error.
In other words, whatever or whoever was in the room the machine was set off in would be disrupted and removed. They found this out in the original location of the machine, Muta's warehouse. That is why it was moved to one of the empty rooms in Satoru's manor – it was simply a hope that no one would be caught in the room exactly at midnight on the date they sent themselves back.
As planned, everything appeared fine. After Satoru awoke, he set off to make sure the machine was where it was supposed to be. It was. Nothing, to his knowledge, would be disrupted other than dust. He checked the security footage and servant schedules just to be certain. An hour later, Muta called with a significantly younger voice.
"You good?" was all Muta asked.
"You sound young, kid. Yeah, everything checks out," Satoru ran his hand through his shorter white hair while listening to Muta grumble over the phone.
"Good luck. If it all works out, we'll destroy The Splinter," Muta said and ended the call.
"Such a stupid reference. Like calling the machine The Splinter of the Mind's Eye makes it more powerful. But he was a kid after all, no matter how smart he is," Satoru muttered to himself.
Then he realized he would have to pretend to be the version of himself that existed all those years ago. What had he been, eighteen? Six years passed before The Splinter was created for use. Satoru was well into his twenties; the world had changed a lot. If he were more like Suguru, then this would have been a great business opportunity.
The time between his awakening and the visit with Riko was not truly that long. First, Satoru had to sift through his and Suguru's personal guards – the latter couldn't know that he was involved in this. It was the fault of those original guards that Riko was at any risk; they had been bought.
The next major thing he needed to do was simply pretend to be himself. This proved to be more difficult than he had imagined. The playboy lifestyle he had enjoyed as a new adult hadn't continued after Suguru left. That was the most challenging of all.
Satoru wanted to see the confident smile of Geto Suguru between his glossy lips. He wanted to smell the shampoo Suguru used. He wanted to feel Suguru beneath his palms as their bodies connected in loud grunts and moans. Satoru wanted to be depraved with Suguru; he wanted to test the boundaries of that man who loved him.
Would Suguru let Satoru lick the sweat from him? Would Suguru be against being the top once in a while? Satoru wanted to inspect him, wanted to know him. Riko shouldn't have died, but Suguru shouldn't have witnessed it either.
After all the preparations had been made, life had become a bit calmer. It was the morning that Amanai Riko died. Satoru sat in the same stool, staring out the penthouse window again. The skyline reflected off his chest as he met his icy blue stare in the darkened glass.
"Satoru, come back to bed," the tired voice of Geto Suguru groaned.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming," Satoru stood, closing the shade over the window.
The only light left in the room emanated from the red LEDs in the alarm clock next to the bed. Suguru's body was twisted in the sheets, but his body's curves couldn't be hidden. Even if they were, Satoru would find them.
With one hand, Satoru pulled the blankets, and Suguru released his clutch. They must have been some luxurious fabric because they felt smooth and cool to the touch as Satoru lowered his nude body to the mattress. He pressed himself against Suguru, rubbing his nose against the long-haired man's ear.
"Fine, but only hand stuff, 'kay? My jaw still hurts," Suguru mumbled.
With a gentle kiss on the ear, Satoru said, "It's okay. Get some rest. I love you."
Suguru rolled over, meeting the white-haired man's gaze, "I don't need rest."
By the time they finished, light had begun to creep into the room from the edges of the curtains. Satoru didn't complain about meeting Riko as much, but then again, what he was really after was just keeping her alive.
He wasn't close to the girl. She had a whole life in front of her, sure. However, Suguru didn't have that virtue. He was young, the same age as Satoru, but he didn't need to witness something that foul. Satoru made sure to hide that fact from Muta, who had been silent as planned.
"Do we really have to meet the brat?" Satoru huffed.
"Yes, come on. She is a valuable asset. She could marry someone important someday or inherit her father's wealth if he died unexpectedly," Suguru said.
The thought had gone through Satoru's mind so many times. Why did they have to meet her? He did try to avoid it more than once, but she kept finding her way back to his schedule. The date changed a few times, but never later than the original.
--
"What kind of cake do you like, Amanai?" Suguru asked.
"I think probably chocolate or strawberry," the young girl answered.
"Satoru likes strawberry too," Suguru smiled, as they walked down the street.
"Don't forget raspberry too," Satoru said.
"Hey, so. I've noticed you two talk to each other with your given names. Does that mean you're good friends?" Amanai asked.
"Well," Suguru started to speak but struggled to continue his thought.
"Do you feel left out? Would it make you cry if we didn't call you Riko?" Satoru asked.
She pouted, "No! I wouldn't cry! But, you could do it. Just the two of you though. My father said to be good friends with both of you."
Then, it happened. In a blur of bulky movement, Riko fell to the ground grasping at her throat as blood ran through her fingers. She tried to scream, but only gargled. There her assaulter stood with a grin.
He was hulking, with shaggy black hair that hung over azure eyes. Satoru didn't say a word, only grunted as he charged the all-too-familiar man. It was Zen'in Toji, the lesser son of the Zen'in family turned supposed street urchin.
Zen'in tried to push his blade toward Satoru, but the white-haired man expected it. There were screams around them. In the previous timeline, they were attacked in an alley, but that was with paid-off guards. The shaggy-haired man's plan must have been to disappear into the chaos of the crowd. However, he didn't know that Satoru wouldn't allow that.
"Zen'in Toji?!" Suguru shouted from behind Satoru.
With a kick, Satoru knocked the large man's body to the pavement. From his pocket, Satoru pulled a switchblade. With five quick stabs, Satoru ended Zen'in Toji right next to the girl he had just killed.
Zen'in Toji smiled as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and nose, "Guess you'll get away with it all since you're not some penniless monkey like me."