[ Later, much later, when he has only time on his hands to look back on this moment and recount each and every step, how it unfolded, where he went wrong, what he could have done differently, what he should have done better, it will hit him β why it hurt so much. Not because of his wound, but because...for the first time he can remember, he's β afraid. The last time his technique failed him, he was so brutally slaughtered within seconds fear didn't even have a chance to take hold. This time, that uncertainty, that failure lingers, clinging to him like coiling smoke, filling his lungs and burning him up from the inside out. He has always relied on his technique, his cursed energy. Always. Without it β
What's left?
Resolve steels through him, a white-hot flash, as Gojo lowers himself onto the exam table, swallowing against the dry lump in his throat. I'll need to amputate your arm. He's expecting it, preparing himself for it. Yet hearing it from Shoko makes it no easier, even if he knows without a doubt that she's right. It is the only way.
Breathe. Survive. Keep fighting. The mantra to which he has lived his life since the moment he was born. ]
We β have time for that? [ If she thinks so, he trusts her. ] Okay. My life is β in your hands n-now...
no subject
What's left?
Resolve steels through him, a white-hot flash, as Gojo lowers himself onto the exam table, swallowing against the dry lump in his throat. I'll need to amputate your arm. He's expecting it, preparing himself for it. Yet hearing it from Shoko makes it no easier, even if he knows without a doubt that she's right. It is the only way.
Breathe. Survive. Keep fighting. The mantra to which he has lived his life since the moment he was born. ]
We β have time for that? [ If she thinks so, he trusts her. ] Okay. My life is β in your hands n-now...
[ No pressure, or anything. ]