ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ - ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ

Chapter 5

As Akira and Suguru's synchronized footfalls brought them within arm's reach of the immense doors, their breaths quickened, mingling with the anticipation that hung in the air like an electric charge.

Their eyes met briefly, a silent exchange of determination passing between them before they shifted their focus back to the task at hand.

Suguru's hand moved to the handle, his fingers curling around the cold metal, a tangible connection to the enigma that awaited beyond. Then, with a deep breath, Suguru exerted a forceful push, sending the doors creaking open on well-oiled hinges.

As the doors swung open, revealing the room beyond, what Akira and Suguru saw was nothing short of appalling. The air seemed to grow heavy with an unsettling mix of shock and disbelief, as if their very senses were recoiling from the scene before them.

Before them lay a gathering of individuals, the members of the Star Religious Group, dressed in pristine white robes that contrasted starkly with the grotesque spectacle unfolding. The room was awash with an eerie, almost ethereal glow, a surreal backdrop that accentuated the macabre nature of their celebration.

Clapping hands and smiles adorned the faces of the group's members, their jubilation casting an eerie pall over the chamber. It was a sickening display of heartlessness, a celebration in the face of tragedy, that sent a wave of revulsion through Akira's very core.

Suguru's expression shifted from curiosity to something akin to disbelief, his features contorting in response to the shocking scene before him. Akira's stomach churned, a mix of anger and disgust roiling within him as he took in the shameless spectacle.

As the members of the Star Religious Group reluctantly parted, creating a path through their eerie celebration, something in the midst of the chaos caught both Akira and Suguru's attention. Their eyes widened as the scene before them transformed, revealing a figure that seemed like a mirage amidst the unsettling revelry.

Gojo Satoru, a person believed to be lost, stood there before them, very much alive. Akira's heart, which had been gripped by a mixture of shock and disbelief, released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tension that had tightened his chest eased, replaced by a surge of relief and an overwhelming desire to bridge the distance between them.

With a quickened pulse, Akira's gaze remained fixed on Satoru as he approached, each step more surreal than the last. The impossibility of the situation was overridden by the presence of someone they had believed to be gone forever. There was a sense of reunion in the air, a reunion that felt both miraculous and bewildering.

However, as Satoru drew nearer, his countenance marred by a grave seriousness, Akira's instincts alerted him to a shift in the atmosphere. The smile that had begun to curl at the edges of his lips faded, replaced by a sense of foreboding. His gaze flickered beyond Satoru, drawn to what—or rather, who—Satoru was carrying.

A knot formed in Akira's stomach as his eyes settled on the burden that Satoru held. The person in his arms, their features obscured by the angle, seemed far too still, far too lifeless. The world around them seemed to slow, the revelry of the group and the room's eerie glow fading into insignificance.

Suguru's own shock was mirrored in his eyes as he stared at the scene unfolding before them. The elation of Satoru's apparent return was quelled by the unsettling truth that the person he carried was not reacting, not breathing, not moving.

As Satoru's steps brought him closer, Akira's voice caught in his throat. He exchanged a glance with Suguru, the silent communication speaking volumes. Their relief had been replaced by an entirely new set of emotions, a mix of concern and dread that seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon.

The words cut through the charged atmosphere like a chilling breeze, causing Suguru to tense and Akira's unease to deepen. "You're late, Suguru," Satoru's voice, normally vibrant and charismatic, sounded like a hollow echo, devoid of its usual warmth.

Akira's heart sank at the sound of that monotone voice. It was as if a part of the Satoru they knew had been drained away, replaced by something distant and detached. The contrast between the Satoru they remembered and the one standing before them was stark and unsettling.

Satoru's words barely registered in Akira's mind, his attention consumed by the altered appearance of him. He had been a symbol of strength and vitality, a person who exuded confidence and life. But now, as Akira's gaze settled on Satoru's face, he saw a reflection that seemed almost unrecognizable.

"Satoru—" Akira's voice trembled with a mix of emotions, a blend of concern and disbelief that threatened to choke him. He took a step forward, the impulse to reach out and grasp onto something familiar nearly overpowering.

However, before he could close the distance, Suguru's hand on his wrist halted him, the touch gentle yet firm. Akira looked at Suguru, his brows furrowing in confusion, but the intensity of Suguru's focus on Satoru told him that something had shifted between them.

Satoru's eyes shifted, fixing on Akira with a gaze that felt devoid of life, a stark contrast to the man they had known.

As Akira looked into those eyes that had once sparkled with mischief and love, he was met with an emptiness that sent a shiver down his spine. It was as if the essence of Satoru had been stripped away, leaving behind a mere shell of the person they had known.

In that moment, a chilling realization dawned on Akira and Suguru. The Satoru before them was not the same.

Suguru's unwavering gaze remained locked on Satoru, "Satoru? Is that you?" Suguru's voice finally wavered with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, his words hanging in the air like a plea for confirmation. The change in Satoru's demeanor had left them all grasping for understanding.

As Suguru's question lingered, Akira's heart ached with a deep sadness. He felt a heavy weight settle in his chest, a weight that seemed to validate the unease he had sensed about this mission from the very beginning. The mission's peculiarities, the inexplicable circumstances, and now this unsettling reunion—all of it had hinted at something far more complex and ominous.

Amidst the heavy silence, a poignant sight caught Akira's attention. Riko's hand, pale and lifeless, slipped out from beneath the blanket. It was a stark reminder of the tragedy that had transpired, a reminder that the joyous and vibrant presence of Riko was now silenced forever. Tears welled up in Akira's eyes, unbidden and raw.

Suguru's lament cut through the weight of the moment, his words laden with a profound sadness. "No, me being safe doesn't help anything here." His voice carried a weight of responsibility, a belief that he had failed in some way that he couldn't yet fully comprehend.

"You're not at fault," Satoru's voice, though changed, held a steadying conviction. It was a declaration of support, a recognition that they were all in this together, grappling with the unfathomable.

As Suguru's hand found Akira's, gripping it tightly, "Let's head back," Suguru's voice held a touch of determination, a resolve to face whatever lay ahead.

But then, a chilling question shattered the fragile calm. "Should we kill these guys?" Satoru's words hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the room. Akira's eyes widened, his jaw clenching instinctively. The utterance cut deep, a stark reminder of how much Satoru had changed.

Suguru's firm response carried a quiet conviction. "No, there's no point." His words held a recognition that violence would only perpetuate a cycle of darkness. His grip on Akira's hand tightened, a grounding gesture amidst the tumultuous emotions.

Suguru's explanation, that the individuals before them were merely common believers, underscored the complexity of the situation. "The masterminds who know about our world have probably fled already," he surmised, his insight revealing a glimpse of the chessboard they were unwittingly a part of.

Satoru's response, questioning the necessity of a point, reflected a sense of disillusionment that seemed to emanate from his very being. As Suguru's gaze fixated on the floor, Akira could sense the weight of the claps from the members bearing down on him. 

Gently, he reached out, a silent gesture of understanding and support, reminding Suguru that they were not alone in facing the aftermath of this dark revelation.