"Go treat him."
"He won't die."
"Remember to remind him about my house."
How Many Times Last Night?
The harsh white light of the operating lamp stabbed at Satoru Gojo's eyes as he opened them. He instinctively raised a hand to shield them, but when his fingers touched his temple, a searing pain shot through him.
"Hey, you're awake." Shoko's smoky voice drifted over, mingling with the strong smell of tobacco and alcohol.
Gojo squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, then turned his head.
Shoko was sitting on a metal stool beside him, legs crossed. A lit cigarette was pinched between her fingers, and she held a flat flask in her other hand.
The cold, hard stainless-steel bed dug into his back. This place looked less like a medical room and more like... a morgue.
"Ah." Gojo grinned, pulling at the wounds on his face. He hissed, his voice slightly hoarse. "I lost."
His tone was full of emotion.
Shoko scoffed and blew out a ring of smoke, the haze obscuring the look in her eyes. "Remember after the Culling Game, Tsukumo Yuki came to have a drink with me."
She paused to take a swig from her flask. "That woman got drunk and told me..."
Shoko imitated Tsukumo's carefree, slightly dazed tone, her voice echoing through the izakaya. "'Shoko, you know? That handsome guy was the first person who made me see that gods really do exist.'"
She lowered her flask and turned her gaze to Gojo, lying on the autopsy table. "She sure had the nerve to say that, huh?"
The smile on Gojo's face stiffened. Beneath the operating lamp, his Six Eyes looked unfathomably deep.
A few seconds later, his smile spread again, even wider than before. Only a complicated glimmer flickered briefly in the