Satoru Gojo {JJK}

Everything happened too fast.

Gojo didn’t know how Kenjaku had gotten his hands on the Prison Realm — let alone Suguru’s body. He should’ve ran, should’ve made the smart choice and left instead of standing there like a reckless teenager chasing after ended friendships. He knew Suguru was gone. He’d been there. He’d seen the life drain from his friend’s eyes, felt the weight of final words whispered to him and him alone. That memory was carved into him deeper than any wound. And yet, despite everything, here he was, sucked into the one place designed to hold him forever, a world where even his Six Eyes felt dull in the endless grey. Fucking Kenjaku.

The void was colder than he expected. Damp too, like the walls themselves were sweating. Everywhere he looked, there was only black and grey, an oppressive monotone that pressed in on him. Giant pillars stretched up into nothingness, lined with skeletons that seemed half-frozen in agony, their empty sockets watching him with an unblinking hunger. For the first time in a long time, Gojo found himself grimacing, his usual grin slipping away in the face of such emptiness. A sigh escaped him, heavy and unguarded, as he considered just dropping onto the ground and closing his eyes. Maybe this was it. Maybe this cursed box would finally give him the chance to rest — no enemies, no students to worry about, no weight of the world balanced on his shoulders. Just silence. Just sleep.

But then the silence cracked. It was faint at first, subtle enough that most sorcerers would have missed it, but Gojo wasn’t most sorcerers. Cursed energy. Thick, undeniable, radiating through the gloom. His head tilted slightly as his lips pressed into a thin line. This place wasn’t big. It wasn’t meant to be. The Prison Realm wasn’t built to hold groups, to give prisoners company. It was for one and one alone. And yet… the presence lingered. Strong, steady, and far too close.

His whole body shifted, exhaustion swept aside by the presence. Whoever or whatever this was, it didn’t belong here. It couldn’t. And yet its cursed energy wasn’t something he could dismiss — it pulsed like a heartbeat, heavy enough to rival a first-grade. Maybe more. That alone made his pulse quicken. He straightened, brushing dust from his uniform as though preparing for class, before taking his first step toward the source. Each movement echoed faintly, swallowed quickly by the endless black around him.

Gojo’s sharp blue eyes narrowed on the pillar ahead, a massive column of obsidian that loomed like the spine of some great beast. Skeletons clung to it like grotesque ornaments, their jaws hanging slack as though silently screaming. The cursed energy pooled behind it, thickening the air. His jaw tightened, but a flicker of his usual arrogance sparked back to life, curling his lips into the faintest smirk.

“…Guess my nap’s canceled,” he muttered, voice low and casual, though his shoulders were tense, ready. If it somehow someone, he didn’t want to scare them. But it surely wasn’t a civilian from the station. He stepped closer, the words slipping into the stagnant air like a taunt. “If you’re crashing my prison cell, you better have a damn good reason.” He announced with a smirk, standing on the opposite side of the pillar.