Ah. So this is one of those times where Gojo talks at him and he has to try to figure out the point to all of the rambling. So he listens, as attentively as always. The weight of expectation and responsibilty he can understand. Family matters less so, though he thinks that's not really the point. He opens his mouth to answer the question— Gojo keeps talking, so he closes it again. And when Gojo warns him that he's going to say something horrible, he only stares.
Felwinter is hard to read at the best of times, but while Gojo seems to think the admission will make him angry, there is in fact no reaction whatsoever. He's not annoyed. He's not even surprised. It's been pretty clear from the start that Gojo thinks himself above everyone else. Not entirely unlike a certain Warlord who had believed himself so strong, so untouchable, that he could protect his people from the end of the world alone. There was a reason Fel had told him that story.
The one part of all of this which really catches his attention is I don't think I'm going home. And for just a moment his mind is elsewhere, contemplating the exact meaning of it, until his attention is drawn back to Gojo by the hand against his thigh.
Even then, he still barely reacts.
"I think you misunderstood what I meant by equal." His tone is flat and gives away next to nothing. Now that Gojo is done talking he looks away, at Choso's flowers, perhaps, though he's not really focused on anything. "Are you saying that you can't go back, or that you don't want to?"
"Both, to some degree." Gojo sighs, gaze slipping back to the blue sky, though he shifts a little closer to Fel. "I've met so many people here who remember dying, Fel. You included. I still don't know why I don't, but I still feel like ... statistically, the percentage of people here who have told me that--and it's hardly as though I'm going around asking 'hey, are you dead?' to everyone I meet, so it's just coming up in conversations naturally."
He sighs, part of him still attached to his life back home, but most of him eager to leave that all behind. The life he wants is the one that has Suguru in it, in whatever capacity he can have him. "I don't think any of us are going home, Fel. And if it comes to what I want to live for, more and more that's come to be people here. With you and Choso both very high on that list."
Sitting up again, Gojo slips his arms back around Fel, tucking his cheek against Fel's shoulder. "Anyway. Call me Satoru, will you?"
Part of him wants to say that he doesn't remember dying, not this time. That there's still a chance for him, slim as it might be, because he still has his Light. Which means his Ghost is still alive, still able to bring him back from death. Which means he might still might be able to change things, to fix things, if he could only get back home...
But Petra had told him they had all died, hadn't she? All except Saladin.
He wants to say I can't give up and I don't belong here and I don't deserve this, but Gojo drapes on him again, and he looks down at that mess of white hair on his shoulder and decides against it.
This isn't about him.
"Satoru," he says, like he's trying it to see how it fits. "I can do that."
"Thanks, Fel," Satoru murmurs, lifting his head enough to give him a soft smile. It's fond, but it's also vulnerable. The prospect of being 'Satoru' more readily to more people is a strange one, and he's still not sure how it feels. But he thinks he can offer that to Choso and Fel, at least.
Stating aloud that he's not the Strongest and letting go of the idea of going home is strange. It rattles his entire self-identity, but that's part of the point. Let the old self die. Become someone new.
That's incredibly hard to do.
But he's already been learning to trust and rely on Choso and Fel, to calculate for their strength rather than thinking of anyone other than himself as simply being in the way and needing to be protected. For years, the challenge in his fights has never been the ability to destroy his opponents, it's always been the necessity of minimizing collateral damage. He had to learn pinpoint accuracy because he's not allowed to just level a city to destroy one enemy.
He already knows that he's going to frequently slip into old habits. His emotional defenses and habits are very deeply ingrained. But the resolution to change is there.
He nuzzles his cheek against Fel's shoulder and then releases him and straightens up a little. "You here to meditate? Want me to watch your back?"
It's not something that Fel needs, he knows. They're safe in their own garden, as safe as it gets for any of them. But it's still something that Satoru wants to offer, the warmth of his back pressed to Fel's and the unseen protection of his Infinity spread over them both.
Edited (had an additional concept i meant to include) 2025-07-07 15:20 (UTC)
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Felwinter is hard to read at the best of times, but while Gojo seems to think the admission will make him angry, there is in fact no reaction whatsoever. He's not annoyed. He's not even surprised. It's been pretty clear from the start that Gojo thinks himself above everyone else. Not entirely unlike a certain Warlord who had believed himself so strong, so untouchable, that he could protect his people from the end of the world alone. There was a reason Fel had told him that story.
The one part of all of this which really catches his attention is I don't think I'm going home. And for just a moment his mind is elsewhere, contemplating the exact meaning of it, until his attention is drawn back to Gojo by the hand against his thigh.
Even then, he still barely reacts.
"I think you misunderstood what I meant by equal." His tone is flat and gives away next to nothing. Now that Gojo is done talking he looks away, at Choso's flowers, perhaps, though he's not really focused on anything. "Are you saying that you can't go back, or that you don't want to?"
no subject
He sighs, part of him still attached to his life back home, but most of him eager to leave that all behind. The life he wants is the one that has Suguru in it, in whatever capacity he can have him. "I don't think any of us are going home, Fel. And if it comes to what I want to live for, more and more that's come to be people here. With you and Choso both very high on that list."
Sitting up again, Gojo slips his arms back around Fel, tucking his cheek against Fel's shoulder. "Anyway. Call me Satoru, will you?"
no subject
But Petra had told him they had all died, hadn't she? All except Saladin.
He wants to say I can't give up and I don't belong here and I don't deserve this, but Gojo drapes on him again, and he looks down at that mess of white hair on his shoulder and decides against it.
This isn't about him.
"Satoru," he says, like he's trying it to see how it fits. "I can do that."
no subject
Stating aloud that he's not the Strongest and letting go of the idea of going home is strange. It rattles his entire self-identity, but that's part of the point. Let the old self die. Become someone new.
That's incredibly hard to do.
But he's already been learning to trust and rely on Choso and Fel, to calculate for their strength rather than thinking of anyone other than himself as simply being in the way and needing to be protected. For years, the challenge in his fights has never been the ability to destroy his opponents, it's always been the necessity of minimizing collateral damage. He had to learn pinpoint accuracy because he's not allowed to just level a city to destroy one enemy.
He already knows that he's going to frequently slip into old habits. His emotional defenses and habits are very deeply ingrained. But the resolution to change is there.
He nuzzles his cheek against Fel's shoulder and then releases him and straightens up a little. "You here to meditate? Want me to watch your back?"
It's not something that Fel needs, he knows. They're safe in their own garden, as safe as it gets for any of them. But it's still something that Satoru wants to offer, the warmth of his back pressed to Fel's and the unseen protection of his Infinity spread over them both.