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@dinosaws
Getou Suguru Was Never Gojou Satoru's Moral Compass: A Hidden Inventory Arc Character Analysis
Let me be clear from the outset: this is a formal, loud disagreement with a pervasive misreading of Getou Suguru's character during the Hidden Inventory Arc. There's a subset of the Jujutsu Kaisen Fandom that insists Getou was always "better" than Gojou during their teenage years—morally superior, more responsible, Gojou's guiding light and ethical anchor. This interpretation fundamentally misunderstands both characters and, more importantly, contradicts what Gege Akutami himself has stated: it was only in that singular moment, when retrieving Amanai Riko's body, that Gojou trusted Getou's "unshakable" judgement because Gojou himself was too compromised to make a clear decision with his newfound power.
Not before, not consistently throughout the arc. That specific moment.
As a fanfic writer, it's always fun—and necessary—to take a deep dive into characters' heads to try and understand them better. Not just their surface-level actions, but the underlying motivations, the quiet insecurities, and the small moments that reveal who they really are beneath the roles they perform.
Rewatching Jujutsu Kaisen from the very beginning—allowing three years for the series to marinate in my mind since Season 2's release and the manga's official conclusion—proved to be an entirely different experience.
Having the full context of subsequent events, understanding the causality chains and their devastating conseqences, transforms that rewatch into something far more gruesome and painful to digest. You see the cracks before they shatter, you see the warning signs that were always there. You understand, with painful clarity, exactly where things went wrong.
However, one element struck me with particular force during the recontextualized viewing of the Hidden Inventory Arc. How drastically my perception of both Gojou Satoru and Getou Suguru had evolved from my first watch to this recent binge.
Beautiful! As I've said before, I think Suguru's relationship with "meaning" stems a lot from his CT. It's unpleasant, so he ascribes meaning to it in order to endure it. He must do it because he's the protector. He suffers for the greater good.
And Suguru, to me, is a character that shows both sides of 和. The positive and negative aspects of it. Social harmony through conformity. He follows the rules. Even when the rules harm him and those he cares about. Because he believes it is "right" to do so. What we see and attribute to Suguru as maturity and respect and politeness is true and all there. It's the positive aspects of 和.
But as this analysis perfectly points out, Suguru's rigidity and conformity to it showed the negative aspects.
Just as two laurels often have only one root
He’d always believed in a future where he and Suguru spent Christmases together. If he could go back, he’d believe in a future where he and Suguru spent their lives together. He wished for too little, and now he’s paying the price.
Like every year on Christmas Eve, Satoru leaves campus in the dead of night, walking in the bitter cold of winter. He needs to teleport himself there part of the way since there aren’t any trains that run this late, but he prefers to walk where he can. For some reason, it seems to mean something to him that he shows up shivering, chilled to the bone, and thaws in the embrace of stolen warmth. He doesn’t look too closely at what, exactly, it means. If you look too closely at something, you have to name it.
His knock on the door is quiet, barely more than a muted thud. He knows he doesn’t need to announce his presence. How can you miss what you’re waiting for?
And each year when the door drifts open, pulled inward as gently as a whisper, Satoru’s heart aches. It feels like his very heart could eat itself alive as Suguru gazes out at him, slender fingers reaching out past the threshold to grip Satoru’s chill bitten ones. Satoru slips in, and their feet ghost across the sleepy floorboards together. Suguru takes Satoru to his room and lets Satoru enter his body.
As they fuck, Satoru attempts to entomb himself in Suguru. He thrusts himself inside, he presses his tongue in deep, he begs Suguru to clutch at him, to dig his fingers into the muscle, he wraps Suguru’s hair around his neck, coils it around his throat like an ebony necklace. He attempts to twine them together, to dig into the soil of Suguru and find the root of him. If he can abrade it enough, can they become one? Like two trees in a dense forest.
Suguru always lets him stay inside after he’s come. He rests inside Suguru while Suguru holds him. Suguru’s arms are around his shoulders and his legs around his waist, heels digging into his low spine, while he crushes Suguru down into the mattress beneath him and mouths at his lips, wet and sloppy, slow and sedate. It’s warm in Suguru, and he smells like soap and tea leaves.
“This is the last year, Satoru.”
Satoru pauses, the words barely more than breath across his lips. He opens his eyes and looks down into Suguru. Suguru’s face is sweetly flushed, and his sweat has dampened the fine hairs along his hairline. He gazes back up at Satoru with insurmountable conviction.
He should probably find it shameful that his first thought is to ask, why can’t I be enough for you?
“Why?” he asks instead, voice raspy with resigned anger.
“It’s been long enough. It’s time for me to fight.”
Satoru isn’t able to yell the way he did when they were children. Not that it did him any good back then. All he can do now is frown and plead, pressing himself further into Suguru.
“What about Christmas?” His hands hold Suguru’s skull, fingers sliding through the tresses of his hair, cradling his head in his palms.
Suguru breathes out softly, the violet of his gaze falling on Satoru like a shadow.
“Then…” he murmurs, “Let’s fight on Christmas Eve.”
When Satoru kills Suguru, he lays his body down in the alley and holds him. They lie together, and Satoru wraps Suguru’s hair around them both, he pulls Suguru into his arms and looks at the delicate black of his lashes. The smell of blood is too strong to smell Suguru’s soap and the always present scent of tea on his skin.
Satoru’s voice is like dust, like ashes, that drift away from him.
“If…If I keep you here…with me…can’t we meet next Christmas too?”
They'll never know how I'd stared at the dark in that room
“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a bit longer, but…”
Perhaps the euphoria of capturing the Six-Eyes was getting to him. Perhaps it was the pleasure of a plan working out just as he foresaw it. Or maybe it was just an emotional residue from his current body leeching into him and making him decide to tease. It did just choke him, after all. He was still holding the wrist of the twitching right hand. He's noticed that he can act like them without realizing it. And Geto Suguru is a wonderfully unique body. Whatever the reason, Kenjaku takes one step closer to Gojo Satoru.
There was a memory that came to him shortly after he first inhabited this body. The memories always flood his mind as soon as he takes over a new body, but parsing through them all takes time. It was a memory that was fuzzy with pain, but the emotional clarity of it was overwhelming. And Kenjaku draws upon that memory now as he stands over the one person who has foiled his plans countless times, over countless lifetimes. Sure, not this Six-Eyes user, not this iteration of him, but they're all the same, aren't they?
Kenjaku squats, lowering himself to be level with Gojo Satoru, resting on his heels in a perfect imitation. He watches those hideous blue eyes track him, watch him, stare at him, quivering with intensity, glowing as sharp as a blade. He's sure they would stab him through the neck if they could.
Kenjaku keeps his smile just as soft, just as sweet as before. There was a tender elegance to the way Geto smiled.
“I love you,” he says, repeating the last words Geto ever heard.
The eyes staring into his widen, the white around the blue a vast sea of despair. A sea of oblivion. Gojo Satoru’s screams reverberate in the stillness of the train station. He howls like a wild dog and thrashes against the blood red binds that hold him.
Kenjaku slowly stands. “Gate, close.”
As the Prison Realm draws inward, swallowing the screams, Kenjaku laughs. His right hand begins to shake, to tremble uncontrollably. He glances down at it and grins.
I don’t think he needs the quiz
I'm what's left of when we swam under the moon
Satoru hates cigarettes. Hates them.
He's always hated the smell of the smoke. The lingering scent in the air, on clothes, in the room. So many people smoke in Japan, but Satoru avoids it as much as he can. Even when he was a child, he'd whine and pout if anyone in his family ever tried to smoke around him. Luckily, he's the Gojo pride and joy, their little Satoru, so he always got his way.
He remembers when he first saw Shoko smoking. He and Suguru stumbled upon her outside of the school buildings shortly after first year started. They'd crouched in the grass together around the corner and whispered to each other, wondering how she even purchased them since they were all only 15. Suguru told him how kids back in his hometown would get older brothers or uncles to buy them packs, but he thought it'd be harder for kids to get them in the city. Satoru stuck out his tongue.
Satoru hates cigarettes.
When he learned that Suguru smoked occasionally, he threw a fit. At the time, he thought he was just expressing his disappointment in having to endure the smell when Suguru chose to light up, but now, as an adult, he can look back and see that it was a temper tantrum. Suguru was flabbergasted as to why it bothered Satoru so much. He kept saying, I'm not going to force you to smoke with me, Satoru. You don't even have to stay near me when I smoke, and I use a deodorizer on my clothes after. And all Satoru could say in his state of emotional despair was,
I hate cigarettes.
In a good year, Satoru will only buy one pack. It will last him the entire year because he can only manage to smoke one at a time, and he only ever does it when he really needs it. There have been a few years when he's bought over 5 packs in one year. He tries not to think about those years.
It's always Peace. Long Peace. 20 filtered cigarettes come in the creamy yellow pack, and each one has the logo embossed on them in gold. Satoru stares at the golden dove carrying the olive branch in its beak for several minutes every time before he lights the cigarette. But seeing the thin stick between his own fingers irritates him. It almost doesn't look right, even though he knows it was only ever this brand and this variant. He can never seem to hold it right. To hold it as elegantly.
The faint vanilla scent is obvious as soon as he breaks the seal on the pack. Vanilla and tobacco. It immediately relaxes him, and he sags under a weight that is only ever in his head.
When he smokes one, he always coughs. It's a strong cigarette with a solid throat hit. The faint sweetness of the vanilla helps and it's decently smooth, but Satoru isn't a smoker. He smokes the entire thing anyway. He closes his eyes and inhales slowly, rolling the taste of the smoke over his tongue. It only takes a few puffs for him to feel the buzz. His head begins to float, and his lungs begin to settle. It's plum, it's anise, it's vanilla, it's milk tea.
He sits and smokes and listens to the crackling burn of the paper, breathes the heavy smoke, tastes the creamy and sweet bitterness.
And he hates it.
Is this how you would've tasted had I kissed you?
Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t really like the fact that the Tokyo Students are stronger than the Kyoto students.
I understand what Gege is trying to do. That the Kyoto students are weak because they represent the traditional jujutsu society under the higher-ups who hold back their potential, while the Tokyo students are more impressive because they learnt from rebellious figures like Gojo.
I’m against this because Gojo’s role as a teacher. Gojo openly criticizes the jujustu system and society, but as a teacher he still sees exposure and participation of violence and danger as an imperative. One of, if not the most dangerous and disgusting parts of Jujustu society. He may ‘rebel’ against the higher-ups, yet he still puts them into the same life-threatening situations the system demands.
Because of this, Tokyo’s strength doesn’t feel earned through rejecting the system. He relies on danger and violence to force progress. Regardless of his justifications or not, he’s doing the same thing as the higher ups. Kyoto students also face curses and missions, so there’s no clear reason they should be weaker just because they follow the rules.
By letting Gojo’s students come out stronger, the writing unintentionally rewards his teaching style, even though it mirrors the same broken system he claims to oppose.
KIRYU-CHAN! 🔪✨
Yall I have finished my nurse Geto!!👀🧎♀️➡️
would you consider yourself an intelligent and sensitive pervert?
i've been saving this in my inbox for months because i don't feel like i have the words to match this. it's a shameful breach of my humility to answer yes, yes i do consider myself an intelligent and sensitive pervert. i love how you worded that. this is like a therapist's screening question.
i wish people didn't try to filter geto's decision through a western lens because they're forgetting a huge part of the puzzle and it's the fact that sorcerers are oppressed by non-sorceres in the world of jujutsu kaisen. geto’s whole thing is "there's so few of us and yet we work ourselves to death for your peace of mind, while you remain ungrateful".
it's all more equivalent to health care workers trying to treat a virus. which also aligns thematically with the subject of labour across the series (jujutsu sorcerers being spread thin to the detriment of inexperienced workers, a job you value vs a job that compensates but drains you of your spirit, the myth of meritocracy) .
which is why controlling the output of cursed energy should be seen as the equivalent of being born with or developing an immunity to a disease. this is why a "culling" sounds possible to geto to begin with— people being pushed to adapt or die in their lifetime to prevent future outbreaks, like one would with a virus. strongly differing to kenjaku, because they essentially yearn for this disease to spread out of morbid curiosity (while geto wants the work to end):
geto is a character you are meant to see yourself in. as, in all likelihood, a laborer yourself or someone that will become one. his story is that of exploitation at the hands of a system that only cares for results. leading to isolation in hopes of achieving high productivity.
tangentially, i think a subject that is often ignored in these discussions is the financial incentive to take on more and more work onto your plate too. mei mei is perhaps the clearest example of this, no explanation needed. nobara, a second, when she explictly tells us sorcerery work is the only way a small town girl like her can make it in the big city. megumi, a third, when we learn the money the school gave him helped keep him and his sister tsumiki afloat.
while gege does not delve into geto's past, we can safely speculate part of the reason geto keeps working day after day, after day— despite his wavering convictions is because there is something that encourages him to do so. financial stability would not be an odd motivater. after all, why do we push ourselves everyday to work jobs that no longer add anything meaningful to our lives? geto is the type of character that forces us to examine such things.
as an aside, when he first dons the robes of a cult leader, money is at the forefront of his concerns. if it wasn't obvious before, gege tells you again— choosing not to be a sorcerer, implies a serious loss of income.
i think, all in all, geto's spiral does not hinge on the fact that he was secretly evil the entire time. it lies in disillusionment of a system that only seeks to preserve itself. note that this is why yuki works outside of it. no doubt her experiences as a former star plasma vessel informed her reasoning. it's also why gojo decides to become a teacher and change the institution from within, wielding his privilege as a shield over others.
Love this! I think another aspect that is culturally significant that shows what is said here about Suguru is how GG had his uniform as a student. He wore nikka pants and jikatabi. Which are what construction workers/manual labor workers wear on the job. So even his clothes associate him with the working class.
yellow chrysanthemums as a sign of neglected love or a heart left to desolation
begging the tumblr gods for permission to post this humble smooching wip
Liking mlm content not in a “my god these men are so hot” way but in a lesbian “these men are so silly and funny I wish I could squish them and roll them around in my hands like a dough ball” way