Chapter 14

Taki Sawaru had a dream.

It wasn’t unusual—ever since he fell into this dimension, perhaps stirred by the surroundings or the healing of his wounds, he often found himself recalling small moments without intention. But this dream was damp and viscous, as if he were submerged in a swamp, unable to escape or call for help, his mouth and nose covered. Though no fear gripped him, he felt profoundly miserable.

His ears seemed muffled by something, yet he could still hear a voice outside, nearly hoarse with desperation, because that voice was the one he cared for most—

“When exactly did you do something to him?”

“Shō, wake up…”

Taki suddenly snapped awake.

He had slept straight through until noon, which surprised him, even with his diminishing sleep. When he opened his eyes, Satoru Gojo was still asleep.

Taki suspected Gojo had stayed up all night, using his day off to rest, since even the strongest couldn’t withstand relentless effort without faltering.

The curly-haired young man quietly slipped away and went to the kitchen to find something to eat, smug about his stealth—so stealthy the Six Eyes couldn’t detect him. But Taki knew it was only because he and Gojo were so familiar with each other; the strongest was accustomed to his presence and allowed it, enabling Taki to move freely by his side.

Turning off the alarm set for his part-time job, Taki glanced at the pot of water still cold on the stove. Leaning lazily against the cabinet, he stared through the glass door at Gojo in the living room, lost in thought.

The silver-haired youth lay sideways on the sofa, his messy hair spread across the soft cushions. His closed eyes bore traces of fatigue, and shallow breaths traced the lines of his neck. He had shed the youthful awkwardness Taki remembered, but seemed burdened by something far heavier.

—My intuition isn’t wrong. Gojo is hiding something from me.

But it didn’t matter, because he was Gojo, and Taki could accept his secrets.

Even though his own memories of death were hazy, the feelings when he broke loose from the system and escaped were unforgettable. All the pain could be healed, as long as Taki had returned.

Did Gojo want him to come back?

If so, it wouldn’t matter if he showed up there—after all, he feared no one.

Just then, Taki heard a noise from the living room. As he lifted his gaze, the door was flung open with force, startling him. He met the tense gaze of Gojo, who looked as if he had been cruelly torn from sleep. His body was rigid, breath rapid, and his trembling Six Eyes reflected a sea of confusion. To be precise, he had been awakened by fear.

“…Shō?”

That person stood alive before him. Gojo stared at him dazedly, calling his name.

Only now did Taki realize—he had not yet woken from the nightmare. He was still the one weaving the nightmare for Gojo.

“Awake?” Taki curved his lips, telling himself to take it slow. “I guessed you might be hungry. Whether you are or not, I was, so I got us something to eat.”

Gojo paused, then casually scratched his hair, still handsome even when careless, and yawned. “What’s for eating?”

“Budget Michelin buckwheat noodles.”

Taki skillfully pressed a damp towel against Gojo’s face. Gojo wiped his face while crouching to rummage through the pitifully small fridge, then complained, “Your fridge is empty.”

“A single guy living alone doesn’t need to stock much. Whatever I want, I buy fresh that day.”

“…Not even one sweet thing?”

“Ah… that’s because we’re not living together now.”

In truth, Taki didn’t like sweets much, but to accompany Gojo, he had visited almost every dessert shop in the city. Whenever they shared their spoils, Gojo would silently prepare a pot of buckwheat tea for Taki—a thoughtful gesture that earned Taki plenty of admiration from Gojo’s peers.

With that pot of buckwheat tea, Taki could endure a table full of cloying sweets alongside Gojo.

“What’s the plan for today?” At the table, Taki slurped noodles. “I’m going to the hospital for a checkup. Come with me.”

The super handsome guy opposite him replied cheerfully, “Sure, I’m here to keep you company anyway.”

Taki looked directly into Gojo’s eyes. Countless times, he had admired those ice-fractured eyes with wonder and awe. Gojo let him gaze, his slightly upturned eye corners and striking lashes perfectly framed—a beauty almost dizzying.

“Your stare is so sticky…” Taki withdrew his gaze, speaking first.

Gojo grumbled, “One day I really should get you a mirror so you can see exactly how you’re looking at me.”

“What?”

“…”

Gojo clicked his tongue. After finishing the noodles, he propped his elbow on the table. Taki seemed suddenly fascinated by his face, chatting nonstop: “Actually, your face leans more toward ‘pretty’ or ‘handsome man’ types.”

“Only now you notice? Isn’t that common knowledge?”

“Ah… just today… it looks especially good.” Taki said frankly, “Maybe because it’s been so long since I calmly saw you up close like this?”

Gojo almost swooned from the sweet talk. “Long? You just got back.”

“Feels like waking from a big dream.”

“After which you went and got some extracurricular training with a delinquent group.”

Taki sighed, touching his dramatically colored hair, saying no more.

After dinner, Taki asked Daifuku to watch the house, then went out with Gojo. The hospital wasn’t far—registration, queue, checkup—all went smoothly. Sitting on the waiting chair, Taki politely declined another young man’s flirtation. Nearby, Gojo pushed up his sunglasses and pulled out a nearly identical pair from his pocket, handing them to Taki.

Taki blinked. “The lenses aren’t fully dark. When did you buy these?”

“Saw them on the way and just bought them.”

“Wearing sunglasses indoors looks kind of odd.”

The results would take another half hour. After waiting, Gojo rested his head on Taki’s shoulder. “Why not ask Nobara to come?”

“I came here to see friends anyway, and my condition isn’t serious enough to bother Nobara.”

They chatted softly until a woman holding a list slowly walked by. Taki stood up abruptly, waving enthusiastically from afar.

“Nami-chan! Over here!”

Gojo looked puzzled.

Miss Furubayashi turned, surprised to see Taki, then hardened her expression. “You finally decided to come for a checkup, Taki.”

Unfazed, Taki replied, “I was working off debts for some time, no chance… Besides, look at me now, in great shape. Who’d have thought I almost died in the ambulance?”

His eyes sparkled. The usually cold Miss Furubayashi even smiled a little. “I’m going to the inpatient ward to find a room. Will you be going later?”

“Yeah, to visit some friends.” Taki turned out his empty pockets, feigning regret. “But I didn’t bring any gifts today. So rude of me, no choice but to give them myself.”

His irreverent yet warm words made Furubayashi chuckle softly. Feeling reassured, Taki casually brushed a speck off her shoulder.

While catching up with Furubayashi, Taki kept in mind not to neglect his dear Gojo. He glanced back; the youth was seated with arms crossed, head tilted slightly, watching them with a faint, elusive smile. He didn’t come over to join the conversation, yet his presence was strong, his expression neither sharp nor boastful, as if lost in memory.

Ah… what kind of expression was that?

A good mood, it seemed.

***

After receiving the test report, Taki took Gojo to the inpatient ward, chattering about it like a grand estate tour: “When I was healing before, I used to sneak out to this little garden every day, which made Miss Furubayashi furious. She said I couldn’t move after surgery, but I couldn’t stay still. Once was followed by twice, and finally, whenever she found my room empty, she’d send two guards to search the building and carry me back.”

The scene was hilarious, and Taki covered his face the whole time, but the entire ward knew his name.

He visited familiar patients’ rooms while Gojo waited by the door.

Taki’s clear voice came from inside. Gojo lowered his head and exchanged a glance with Miss Furubayashi, who had deliberately come to find him.

“May I ask…” Furubayashi peered through the window on the door, her expression worried, “how has his mental state been lately?”

“...What?”

“Has he shown any dangerous behavior?”

Gojo tensed at her words. “What do you mean?”

“During his hospitalization, many of his actions were strange. He had severe suicidal tendencies,” Furubayashi said solemnly. “But his personality is outgoing, as if he has endless energy for the outside world. Many who know him say it’s hard to imagine he’s such a fragile, delicate person.”

“…”

Gojo pressed his lips tightly, his eyes widening slightly behind the sunglasses.

“Don’t you know? He was seriously injured during a self-destructive act.”

Seeing Gojo’s expression, Furubayashi awkwardly brushed her hair behind her ear. “Maybe I worry too much. Perhaps he’s moved past it.”

She turned away, leaving Gojo deep in thought.

Time seemed to stand still.

Gojo slowly brought his hand to his forehead, as if struck suddenly by something cold. His blood seemed to flow backward; his chest tingled.

Leaning against the door, he gazed through the glass at Taki.

Taki was teaching a child how to twist a string figure. His slender, nimble fingers danced carefully and gently in front of the child. His face was lit with a smile, comfortable and kind, basking in the sunlight.

So…

When you were reborn into this body, was the pain unbearable?