Geto lay in Gojo's arms, feeling rather bewildered.
He had only just woken up when Satoru suddenly hugged him and said, "Welcome back, Geto," in a voice steeped in grief and joy. He couldn't quite process it.
What happened? Why had Satoru suddenly become... so strange?
He instinctively tried to sit up, but overwhelming weakness washed through his entire body. Even lifting an arm proved difficult.
He realized something was wrong-after years of training, he had never been this weak unless he was seriously injured.
Calming himself again, he took stock of his body. There was none of the pain that accompanied an injury, only endless exhaustion and weakness.
Rather than being injured, he felt as though he had been lying there for a long time, like someone waking after a serious illness, too weak to move.
"Satoru?... Cough, cough..."
He wanted to ask what had happened to him, but his dry, hoarse throat barely managed Satoru's name before a faint cough escaped.
He felt Satoru stiffen around him for an instant, then immediately lift his head to look at him, his azure-blue eyes filled with irrepressible anxiety and concern.
Gojo quickly told him, "I'll get you some water," then vanished from his sight.
Geto: "..."
All right, he was thirsty anyway. Whatever he wanted to ask could wait until after he'd had some water.
He barely managed to raise one hand before his eyes. The back of it was pale, and the skin around his knuckles had sunken slightly, making it look thin and bony-clearly different from the hand he remembered.
...It looked like he really had slept for quite a while. No matter how he looked at it, this wasn't what his hand normally looked like.
He tried hard to recall his memories from before he lost consciousness-