Forgotten Souls (JJK)

Lately, everything had gone terribly for him.

Contrary to the buzzing of the metropolis outside, Suguru Geto sat motionless, his thoughts a storm of confusion and anger. He didn't know what to do anymore.

He'd always believed he understood the line between right and wrong, that he could make choices rooted in conviction. But now, those beliefs felt hollow, shattered by truths that turned out to be nothing more than carefully constructed lies.

With a heavy sigh, he gazed down at the bowl of ramen in front of him. The simmering broth reflected a man he barely recognized.

Hollow eyes framed by dark circles, unkempt hair, and a face drained of life.

In other words, he looked like shit.

The chopsticks sat neatly beside the bowl, untouched. He was starving, his body screamed for sustenance after three days of neglect, but the thought of eating made his stomach churn. 

He knew he needed to eat to survive, yet the knot of disgust and despair tightened with every passing second.

The signs had been there all along. He should have seen it, should have pieced it together. But no, he had ignored the obvious, pushed it aside in favor of a naïve trust.

He clenched his fists at the memory. How could he have been so blind?

But that wasn't the only reason that occupied his mind now.

Then, a few days ago…

"Geto-sama." a voice called out suddenly, jarring him from his spiraling thoughts.

One of the believers stepped forward, bowing deeply. His tone was thick with reverence, but to Suguru, it only added fuel to the fire burning in his chest.

"You have done us an immense honor. Thanks to you, the Star Plasma Vessel has fulfilled its role."

Suguru's breath hitched. 

Its?

The word echoed in his mind, heavy and revolting. 

To them, Riko wasn't a person. 

She wasn't even considered a human but a thing.

A fucking thing.

Memories of her flashed through his mind. Her smile, her stubbornness, her little quirks and antics. She was so vibrant, so alive. Yet, to these people, she was nothing more than a tool, a means to an end, discarded the moment her purpose was served.

The man's words sliced through him, each syllable twisting the knife deeper into his already fractured heart.

He looked around the room, his gaze sweeping over the sea of smiling faces and devoted eyes.

He wanted to vomit but he managed to keep it down.

"You're… thanking me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried through the hall with the force of a thunderclap.

The applause faltered. Unease rippled through the crowd.

"Of course, Geto-sama." an older man said, stepping forward with a calm smile. "Your efforts have ensured the continued stability of the world. The Star Plasma Vessel's sacrifice was necessary, and—"

"Sacrifice?" Suguru cut him off, his voice rising, trembling with suppressed rage.

The room went silent, tension thick enough to choke on.

"She was a child." Suguru continued, his voice growing colder with every word. 

"She wanted to live. She deserved to live. And you…" He swept his hand across the room, his fingers trembling. "You're clapping for her death. Celebrating it like it's some kind of victory. You sick bastards."

Gasps and murmurs filled the air, but before anyone could respond, another believer, a woman, stepped forward.

"Geto-sama, we—"

"Shut up now, why don't you?!" Suguru snapped, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. His glare was sharp enough to freeze her in place.

The hall erupted in shocked whispers. The once-reverent expressions of the crowd turned to fear as they recoiled from the fury radiating off him.

Suguru's chest heaved with anger, his fingers curling into fists. He didn't need their apologies or justifications. He needed them to see, to understand the depth of what they had done.

But as he stood there, staring into their vacant, uncomprehending faces, he realized they never would.

And then it hit him.

If he had looked closer, reviewed everything more thoroughly instead of ignoring the signs, would things have turned out differently?

He'd pushed those thoughts aside, too afraid to face the truth. Afraid of knowing something he wasn't ready to know. Instead, he'd clung to a fragile, childish hope, a desperate denial that everything was fine.

But it wasn't fine. It never had been.

Unknowingly, he had become an accomplice to Riko's death.

Just like them.

The realization chilled him to his core. His breath hitched, and his body felt as though it was sinking into an abyss. He denied that thought.

It scared him more than he wanted to admit.

And yet… something inside him shifted.

After everything he had witnessed, after watching it all unfold piece by piece, the parts of him that still believed in hope and justice began to fracture. 

The image of Riko Amanai's lifeless head haunted him. The way it had rolled across the cold stone, her blood pooling beneath her, her empty, glassy eyes seemed to stare right into his soul.

Eyes that seemed to ask, Why didn't you save me?

Her bright, hopeful smile was burned into his memory, cruelly replaced by the stillness of death.

He had been so naïve. So foolish to think that everything would go the way he imagined. That he could protect her. That he could protect anyone.

Instead, his failure had only emphasized how powerless he truly was.

And worse, it mocked him.

Makima's shadow loomed large in his mind, a symbol of everything he couldn't fight against, everything he had failed to stop. He was supposed to be one of the strongest, second only to Gojo.

A protector. A savior.

But did it even matter anymore?

He wasn't a savior. He wasn't even a protector. He was a sinner. His hands were stained with the blood of the innocent, and there was no washing it away.

His dull, lifeless eyes now brimmed with the sticky, writhing darkness of his emotions like anger, guilt, despair.

Something he would never be able to forget.

_____

A shadow loomed over him, pulling him abruptly from his spiraling thoughts.

With a soft thud, a bowl was placed on the table before him.

Suguru's head snapped up, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure now standing across from him.

Makima.

Of all people, it had to be her, the one he despised most. That ever-present, stoic smile lingered on her lips, a mask that concealed the inhuman nature beneath.

Hatred and loathing bubbled up within him, threatening to spill over, but he held it back, albeit, barely.

If he could, he'd rip that facade from her face with his own hands. But he knew, deep down, it wouldn't change a thing.

Geto squinted, his suspicion mounting. What plan was she dragging him into this time? 

But paradoxically, she seemed to have no such intent. Instead, she sat before him without a word, her focus entirely on the steaming bowl of ramen she began to eat.

The silence between them was deafening, broken only by the sound of her slurping noodles.

Her apparent disinterest in him, her indifference to what he'd endured, was maddening.

If she had treated him like a pawn, used him to her advantage, at least it would've been consistent with her manipulative nature. But instead, she treated him like a discarded, broken toy. 

Forgotten. 

Useless.

The rage simmering within him reached a boiling point, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, her gaze suddenly locked onto his.

For the first time, her smile disappeared, leaving only an unreadable blankness in its wake.

"Rage." she said softly, the single word cutting through the tension like a blade.

It was fitting. Too fitting.

"Who wouldn't—" Suguru began, his voice laced with venom, but her next words stopped him cold.

"Rage against the dying light." she murmured, her tone laced with mockery. "How futile… and yet, fascinating."

Her cryptic words sent a chill through him. What could she possibly mean?

Makima propped her chin in her hand, her gaze steady and piercing as it bore into him. For a moment, it was as though she were studying him, dissecting every layer of his being.

"Hmm. How about this?" she mused.

With a snap of her fingers, a chain manifested in the air, shimmering as it linked them together.

Suguru's eyes widened. It was undeniable proof of her control over him. A physical representation of the contract that had bound him to her will.

The sight of it made his stomach turn. The humiliation of it gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the shame he carried.

He detested it with every fiber of his being, but he could do nothing about it.

And then, without warning, she flicked her wrist, and the chain shattered.

It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him stunned.

Freedom.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice dripping with venom, though the undercurrent of confusion was impossible to hide.

Makima didn't flinch. She didn't react at all to his hostility. Instead, she regarded him with the same calm, detached expression.

"The idealism you've clung to is childish." she said matter-of-factly. "Premature. That much, you've already figured out for yourself, haven't you?"

Her words were like a dagger, twisting in the opened wound of his heart.

Suguru's fists clenched on the table, his nails digging into his palms as her words echoed in his mind. 

Childish. Premature.

"What are you trying to say?" he snapped, his voice low but trembling with barely-contained fury.

Makima tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze never wavering. "Your rage." she began, her tone cold and clinical. 

She leaned forward slightly, her presence suffocating despite her calm demeanor. "You rage against the world, against its injustices, against yourself. And yet, you've done nothing with it. You let it fester, consuming you, until all that's left is bitterness."

Her words were like a scalpel, precise and unrelenting.

"You talk as though you understand." Suguru spat, venom dripping from his voice. His eyes burned with hatred as he stared at her. 

"You're the one who made me like this. You're nothing more than a Devil who toys with people's hearts. Don't act as if you understand what it feels like to be at the receiving end."

Makima's expression didn't waver, but her lips curved ever so slightly, a ghost of a smile devoid of warmth. "And so?"

"What?" Suguru's voice cracked, his confusion visible.

"And so what?" she said, her words cutting through the air like a whip. "You call me a manipulator? Fine. A Devil? True. But here's the difference. I don't let those trivial things control me."

Suguru froze, her words striking a nerve he didn't know was exposed. There was something disarming about the way she spoke. Her words felt less like accusations and more like a reflection of his deepest insecurities laid bare.

"Emotions, desires, and even your naive idealism you desperately clung to. What I did was to use everything I have in my arsenal." Makima's gaze softened slightly, not with kindness, but with something akin to amusement. 

"You however…" she continued, her voice softening to an almost mocking lilt. "Are still a child throwing tantrums at a world that doesn't care. You cling to fragile ideals that shatter the moment they're tested."

Her gaze narrowed, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "You wanted to save the girl, Riko, didn't you? But when the moment came, you hesitated."

Suguru's eyes widened, his anger flaring anew. "You're the one who killed her!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "Don't shift the blame onto me, you monster!"

Makima raised an eyebrow, her expression unbothered. "Oh? Then tell me this, Geto-kun." 

Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but it cut deeper than any scream. "When you received the mission, Principal Yaga told you to escort her to the designated location and then eliminate her. Did you protest then? Did you fight against the order from the Higher Ups?"

Suguru opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "See? You can't even form a counterargument. Time to face reality. You're no hero nor are you a savior. You're just an accomplice, a coward too paralyzed by doubt to act when it mattered most."

The chain that had once connected them flickered in his mind, a vivid reminder of his subjugation. He hated that chain, despised its weight. But now, a sickening realization began to creep over him… perhaps that was the chain he had forged it himself.

"Why break the chain?" he asked at last, his voice quieter now, the anger giving way to something fragile and uncertain. "Why… this conversation?"

Makima leaned back, her smile shifting into something unfamiliar, a genuine expression. It unnerved him more than her usual stoicism.

"Mostly because someone told me to clean up my mess." she said simply. "And partly it is because I want to see what you'll do now that the choice is yours. Whether you crumble with your idealism or rise up to be a dictator, it's not my place to say."

"I can only advise you to be careful where you tread along the line."

Suguru's breath caught. For all her cruelty, for all her manipulations, there was no malice in her tone. She wasn't mocking him. She wasn't even trying to provoke him. She was merely… observing.

Makima stood, the scrape of her chair breaking the silence. "Consider this a gift, Suguru. Or perhaps, a curse. Either way, I'll enjoy watching you."

"When the world feels like it has gone to shit, and you can't take another step forward, rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gently into the good night." And with that, she was gone, leaving Suguru alone with the storm of thoughts she had unleashed.

With that, she vanished, leaving Suguru alone with the storm of thoughts she had unleashed.

He sat in silence, her words echoing in his mind. His rage had always been his compass, pointing him toward an undefined sense of justice. But now, he realized, it was a blind compass, leading him in circles.

The image of Riko's lifeless eyes flashed before him again. This time, though, it wasn't despair that gripped him, it was his resolve.

If those in power hadn't ordered her extermination… if those ordinary monkeys hadn't squandered their authority in selfish infighting… if—

But "ifs" was meaningless. He couldn't change the past. He couldn't undo his mistakes.

What he could do was decide what came next.

Makima hadn't just broken the chains that bound him to her but also the chains he had placed on himself.

For the first time in days, a small, bitter smile tugged at Suguru's lips. He picked up the chopsticks that were placed near him and began eating up his ramen.

He wasn't free of his hatred. He never would be.

But now, he understood it, and that was enough. 

As Makima said, he was not a hero nor savior and that was fine. As long as those who had allowed corruption to fester learn to fear him.

That would be enough.

Let those untalented monkeys experience what they rightfully deserve.

His silent rage…

The rage of the 'weak'.

________

(A/N: I do not hate you Geto, it's for the plot. Trust.)