Chapter Text
"So that's Yaga-sensei's niece?"
"Yes."
"Then her mother was the curse user involved with the Shujin incident right?"
"Satoru."
"The one who had been execu-"
"Gojo."
"-on our 'field trip' last week right? How is her dad even related to Yaga-sensei if he was a-"
"Satoru."
"-does this mean she's here for-ow! What the hells with the sneak attack, Shoko! I'm not even talking to you."
"Gojo, you dumbass, she's right in-"
"Anyways, is she here for probation? Therapy? Probationary therapy? If that's even a thing here in-"
There's a loud whack that resounds throughout the room and Suguru fails to hide his snicker when he sees the bulge beginning to peek through his best friend's snowy locks. Yaga brings his large fist back to his side, brows wrinkled in deep agitation. Satoru groans, rubbing his palm over the sore spot while flipping his middle finger to the ravenette who does not bother to stifle his amused smile.
Yaga straightens his back and clears his throat, already thoroughly disgraced by the cream of the crop amongst his students right in front of you. He sighs before placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.
"Yes, this is my niece, she'll be living in the dorms under my care till we settle papers with the relevant authorities."
You watch the commotion with a flat stare, exhausted from the transition and the rapid changes of the past few days. He gently nudges you forward, as if careful the grief and resentment would spill in waves from you.
"She does not have any cursed energy nor can she see curses," he informs the trio who examine you in interest, "So don't mess around—I'm looking at you, Gojo."
The male lets out an indignant squawk in protest while you bow deeply and say your name, "It's nice to meet you."
Suguru and Shoko nod their heads low in acknowledgement, and when the ravenette notices Satoru still eyes you accusingly for the bump on his pretty head, he takes it upon himself to shove his best friend's head low in respect. Satoru squirms and grumbles, his hand sloppily flying to smack Suguru's arm away.
This earns a muffled snort from Shoko. Normally, Suguru would have gloated over his egotist of a best friend's lack of decorum. But now, knowing that this new face, you, had gone through so much so recently, it wasn’t really a laughing matter.
You were grieving the loss of your parent.
After all, he was there to witness the exorcism and execution of your mother under the guise of learning. He knew it was simply a blatant display of authority and fear mongering from the higher ups. He carefully examines your expression that betrays no emotion. He heard you were not from Tokyo either, the adjustments will be hard and cruel trying to be in a community you had little grasp of and would not be very welcoming to you.
After a moment, Shoko quietly mutters, "We're sorry for your loss."
The deadpan gaze in your face drops and shifts. Suguru nods in agreement and Satoru surprisingly falls silent. They half expect you to crumble, to cry or to shoot them a wobbly smile but you don't.
Instead you surprise them when you shrug, a bitter smile pulling at the edges of your lips, "What for? She had it coming for what she did."
Shock and bewilderment seize the room, even Yaga tenses up at your admission. Suguru's brows knit together in concern, wondering if you were just playing tough or trying too hard to prove that you were not siding with enemies of their institute.
Seeing as you had startled the company with your revelation over the heavy matter, you rub your neck awkwardly.
"I mean, she was pretty weak and had a dumb plan so…they were going to get catch her somehow," you explain off-handedly.
It does nothing to ease the confusion. They stare at you, searching for a crack in your words and expression that shrouds the brokenness within you.
"Nevermind," Satoru blurts, breaking the tense silence before leaning on his fist. He chuckles as he shoots you with a finger gun, "I already like her. Welcome to the Gojo Satoru fan club!"
“She’s in the same year as you three,” Yaga told them with a pointed stare.
They glance out the window at the same time where the first years, Nanami and Yu assist you with the boxes. Yu offers you a sharp salute, bowing, before grabbing the box from you. Nanami’s expression sours but he walks toward your dorm with two boxes stacked atop each other.
Yaga follows their gaze, noting the soft smile that curls over your tired features elicited from Yu’s sunshine smile. He heaves out a quiet sigh, hoping he’s made the right decision to expose you to the jujutsu world. He hopes you understand why they had to do what they did with your mother.
“So please,” he says, “Get along.”
It was a few days after you had been introduced to the second years and Suguru was making his way to Yaga's office for his compulsory reporting from his latest mission. He inwardly sighs as he feels his body ache, thoroughly exhausted from his mission. Before he reached out to knock on the staff room door the noise of shuffling and muffled voices reaches his ears, telling him he would have to wait till the exchange is over.
Suguru was raised right in all manners of conduct and propriety. Shoko came second. Satoru was nowhere in the rank.
So of all people who would be listening in on conversations he wouldn’t be caught dead listening in but the curse eater couldn't fight off his curiosity for once. He happened to be just ever so curious enough to ignore the displeased voice in his head and listen in. If Satoru ever found out, he would be mocking him for weeks.
Then his teacher's voice cuts clear across the air,
"You do understand how insulting it would be if you don't deliver it yourself?"
"I'm sorry, Uncle," he hears you softly murmur as he nears the doorway, " But I don't want to do it myself."
Behind the shoji panels, Yaga leans against the dark oak desk on his elbows, eyeing you sternly as you keep your head low. Beside him, sits a ceramic grey urn of your mother's ashes which you had also refused to collect into the jar yourself during cremation. He had allowed it under the assumption that you were too broken with your mother's death and the grounds on why. But this time, you refused to deliver the urn back into your family shrine as per custom. He realizes you truly wanted to leave it behind, not wanting to have anything to do with it. Perhaps, the ache ran deeper than death.
Nevertheless, the rejection against your present parental authority was surprising and could be considered rude and noncompliant. Your uncle gives you the benefit of the doubt, having been thrust into an existence you barely know nothing about apart from whatever you had understood about your mother. You did not seem that interested at all to know about the Shujin Incident or know on what legal grounds your mother had been sentenced to death.
Still, you cannot keep sweeping these under the rug. The dust will clump, cloud the air, leave a nasty film in your lungs. You'd get a better broom, a bigger rug, but the deterioration would slowly fester till you're forced to deal with the root.
A mole hill turned into a mountain if not handled carefully.
Yaga calls your name sternly and watches you tremble under the bass of his voice. His brow unfurls when he senses your apprehension, softening his tone but keeping it flint.
"Give me one reason why, a good one. If I deem it acceptable, I will let you off the hook," he offers, "But if not, you have to bring it yourself. I will provide you with an escort to your trip and back."
The finality in his condition causes you to gulp, the floorboards beneath your worn shoes blurring and blending with it. Taking a deep breath, you answer with the only truth you'd hate to hear aloud,
"I can't…see him."
The admission hangs in the air. Yaga knows exactly who you were referring to, your father. Your uncle sighs, subtly glancing over his phone, the man still hasn't even called to ask about you. After all, there was a reason why you had been assigned to your uncle's care rather than your fathers. It was simply not a safe space for a teenager dealing with the grief and in his suspicion, perhaps something prior to that.
On Suguru's end, it falls silent. He unconsciously frowns as he tries to comprehend your situation without any context of what the conversation was. You sounded exactly how he expected you to sound the first day you met. Distraught, lost, and apprehensive. He can only hope for your sake, in spite of the bold denial towards a senior, Yaga would comply with your request.
The voices are too soft for him to hear now, but there's shuffling to the doorway and the sudden sliding of the panels. Suguru was not fast enough to collect himself so when you leave the room and turn towards the hallway, you regard him with startled wide eyes.
It was for but a moment, but he sees the red rims of your eyes and your worked up expression.
The boy opens his mouth to greet you or should he smile? Should he nod? Should he ask how you were? Was that too soon? Yet before the words leave his mouth, you duck your head and brusquely walk past him without a word.
He stares mutely after your disappearing figure that rushes around the corner.
Suguru rubs his neck, sighing and wishing he had simply listened to the best of himself and not have listened in. It wasn’t right for him to listen to a personal conversation, especially following after your mother’s death and transition. Now, whatever amicable relationship you'd potentially have with him was ruined. He decides not to unpack that, dutifully entering into his teacher's office to give a report.
The special grade sorcerer can't help but eye the urn seated on Yaga's desk, mind subconsciously piecing together what context there could be with the prior conversation. His eyes never really leave it as Suguru vocalized what he had written to his teacher.
To think this was how he met your mother...
Yaga thanks him, writes and signs the report with practiced grace before dismissing him with a final order,
"Please bring me an auxiliary manager here."
"See! See! Just like this!"
"I guess it couldn't hurt. But-"
"Don't worry. I got this all under control!"
"Okay, but just remember, if we get caught, you're blind and I don't speak Japanese."
"Why the hell would I be blind one?"
"You look the part."
"I-...fuck you. Alright."
The trio and you were out in the local park under the orders to bond with your new living mates whilst being told separately by Yaga that it was meant for you to feel safe amongst sorcerers, the very group that had sentenced and carried out your mother's death. Suguru sits cross legged on a bench watching people while Shoko had left to "get some air" when he knew she meant to smoke.
He watches you with mild interest and amusement while Satoru hunkered over you. You both scheme like no one couldn't hear you when you were plotting with the most loudmouthed and troublesome teenager in Tokyo.
It's only been a month since you were first introduced and the ravenette finds it hard to grasp how well you've adjusted to your new life.
Upon arriving and being escorted to the female dormitory, you immediately set to work, a little excited if he were being honest. Without pausing, you shuffle box after box into your room, politely declining their assistance acknowledging that they were perhaps busy themselves and you didn't want to disturb them. They weren't but they let you be, thinking that the busyness you've delegated to yourself was your fool's errand to shake off unwanted thoughts. Or as Satoru suggested out loud in your earshot it was to hide your naughty books and toys from prying eyes.
You wouldn't meet his or the idiot's eyes for a few days after that.
Imagine his surprise when Shoko mentions how often you both hung around each other's rooms bonding over the media and sometimes, disappointment over males. Suguru rolled his eyes because, of course, of course Shoko would . He guesses the ease into your relationship with the brunette was catalyzed by your boredom and free time since you had not yet been enrolled to a regular high school.
Then there was Satoru, his best friend, who only had two kinds of agendas when it came to women: flirt with and then break their hearts or annoy the living shit out of them that at least one murder attempt must be made.
You were not in either of them so far, maybe leaning towards the latter but it still surprises Suguru. His eyes follow you and Satoru walking to the far end of the park, snickering like demented villains. From what he heard, you both conjured a dumb prank on strangers in the name of boredom and adventure. He breathes out his nose because of course, of course Satoru would. Even knowing his best friend's long history of property damage, the curse tamer does nothing about it. Another factor was, out of the three, you seemed to be less taken with the most polite and sane of the group. Perhaps it was due to that day he clashed with you in front of the office. Not a word of that day had been mentioned by either of you that Suguru was thinking of potentially fixing that blundering gap once you feel comfortable around him. He quite felt guilty in fact. Yet, you merely stayed polite acquaintances and acted as if that day never happened. He found it awkward to chastise you for the idea but nevertheless, he rests his arm over the bench and leans against his fist.
At present, Suguru was mentally prepared to provide an apology and entreatment speech to appease the agitated victims before cops were called.
Not the first time he had to do so when Satoru was involved.
He watches the pair of you stroll like normal along the park, meeting a runner halfway who slows to a walk to catch their breath. You nonchalantly let your handkerchief slip from your pocket and it flutters to the ground. The runner notices and dutifully bends to pick it up. They tap your shoulder and hand it back to you. You bow in thanks and proceed to carry on with Satoru. You both take a sharp left behind a tree and Satoru warps you both back at the entrance. You keep walking with him to meet the same runner in the middle once more, they don't seem to realize it until you drop your handkerchief once again. The victim snatches it once more and when they turn around to return it to you, they pause, visibly confused. You say nothing, bow and take the cloth, tucking it into your pocket. The pair of you continues to walk ahead while the runner glances back a few times before shaking their head and carrying on.
You repeat it the third time, and the runner is visibly freaked out at the sense of deja vu or a glitch in the universe. You manage to keep a straight face until you both decide to stop teasing the poor stranger.
Suguru does not hinder the amused grin that stretches across his lips. He's impressed at the control of emotions especially when Satoru himself was breaking character, mouth pursed in a wobbly smile.
Distantly he wonders if it was a common trait for you to repress your emotions.
You both finally laugh before spotting the next victim just so you could do it all over again. Maybe Suguru should stop you, warn Satoru of his abuse of cursed techniques but he can't bring himself to. Not when he knows you probably needed the entertainment, the laughter, and the weightless buoyancy of it.
"What's up?"
Shoko plops beside Suguru, and the faint smell of tobacco invades his senses. He wonders what you thought about her habit or if you were affected in a way since you live with her. He shrugs, resting on his knees as he keeps his gaze on the two of you. He smiles fondly when Satoru all but whacks your shoulders in howling laughter and you barely flinch before shooting him an insult
"Satoru sharing a brain cell with someone. And it isn't mine."
His friend snorts, not bothering to ask what sort of shenanigans Satoru dragged you into.
"So I saw a movie scheduled in the next thirty minutes or so. Was wondering if you guys wanted to go see it."
"What movie?"
"Some romcom."
"I thought you hated those?"
Shoko waves her hand with a huff, "And let those two warrant us a ban from coming back here? No way, this place is my favorite."
Suguru knows it's only because there were rarely any guards roaming around to catch a high schooler smoking. He says nothing but agrees, "Fair point but-"
"Eeeeeeeeew!"
Satoru's screeching causes the two to whip their head in his direction, and apparently any other passerby. You were slouched over, vomit splattered on the ground and catching on the tip of the white haired shaman's boot. His Infinity had activated a little too late but just in time for it not to have splashed onto his pants. His face is scrunched in disgust as you struggle to straighten up.
It seems that Satoru's teleportation had cost you nausea.
Suguru doesn't miss the bewildered furrow of his best friend's frosted brow. Sometimes it's really easy to forget that their habits, their sense of normalcy were incredibly different from non sorcerers.
The ravenette all but abruptly stands up to rush to your side, half out of concern and half out of avoiding his teacher's wrath. Shoko follows after, a little more sluggishly. Even with the evident distaste on his face, Satoru holds your shoulder to assist you, albeit manhandling you, hands only ever used for violence.
"Ugh," he huffs, rubbing off the residuals on the grass, "I hope you know that this means you pay for clean-"
"Satoru."
The warning call of his name from Suguru causes the male to shut up, stepping away so his best friend comes closer. Your complexion was slightly off and your focus a little woozy but you manage to mumble a low, "Sorry, I'll get it-"
"Don’t, he's got more than enough to pay for his own cleaning," Shoko reassures you, fishing her pockets for spare gum, “It’s his fault anyway.”
Suguru's hand reaches to support you but instead hovers over your shoulders in last minute hesitation.
"Aw, c'mon," Satoru begins to whine until Suguru sharply narrows his gaze at him. The boy lifts his arms up in surrender, making a zipping motion over his mouth as he backs away.
Suguru turns back to look at you, a faint crease over his brow, "Are you alright?"
You slowly nod your head, offering them a shaky thumbs up and crooked smile, "Yeah, just a little dizzy. It's cool."
Seeing the disbelieving stares, you wave your hand before gratefully picking the gum from Shoko's hand.
"Really guys I'm fine. Now what's that I hear about a movie?"
It’s easy to forget you were different from them. It’s even easier to see how you struggle to keep up.
A week after that, your papers had been filed and processed for admission to a high school in Fuchu, west of Tokyo. You would be starting orientation and your first day on the following Monday. Intrigued, Satoru kept giving you unrealistic tips on how to be the cool mysterious transfer student that was so popular with anime these days.
For Shoko, however, she proposes having dinner and an all-nighter movie night marathon with you in the name of a “girl’s night”.
Unfortunately for the rarest sorcerer, any mention of food and a movie is enough of an invite for Satoru to drag himself and his best friend to the communal living room. Shoko's huffing beneath her breath when she unsuccessfully barricades the door to prevent the cumbersome pair from entering. The only thing that appeases your dorm mate are the bags of pastry and candies Satoru wags in her face. You merely laugh, rubbing your neck before tugging some more pillows onto the mat.
"Ow, what was that for, jerk?"
"Stop picking out only the strawberry jelly beans, bitch."
"Bitch? Really? Oh, we're not there yet, Satoru."
"Rich coming from someone using my first name."
"My point exactly, leave me and my strawberry beans alone, bitch or be prepared to lose that hand."
The sight is rare but welcome.
You're sprawled on the floor beside Shoko, Satoru cross-legged on your other side while Suguru comfortably dominates the couch. The opening credits had barely begun and the pair of you and Satoru were bickering like children. Shoko groans, tempted to get up and hang by the window for a smoke. Suguru only chuckles, somewhat relieved he was not the only one able to go toe to toe with his best friend's antics. Also, he feels he sees a more raw version of you in the banter that he's somewhat anticipating your interests to bloom for Satoru at a certain point. Still, he hopes he could still build a friendship with you before that happened.
Only so it could be less awkward to tell you that stability can never happen with Satoru, not in his current state.
"You like strawberries?" Suguru asks as you narrowly avoid another swat of Satoru's hand from separating yet another red bean from the colorful array of diabetes.
You turn your head, bright-eyed in a way you had never been with him before, "Mhm, strawberry flavored stuff. Strawberry milk, strawberry chocolate, strawberry kitkat-"
"We get it," Satoru rolls his eyes before you shoot him a dirty look.
Suguru only smiles to himself with a quiet hum, eased and knowing how to finally and indirectly apologize for listening in on a sensitive topic a month ago. Perhaps, you can finally be at home with him like how you are now, comfortably nestled beside Shoko and Satoru.
It’s easier to keep non sorcerers around; you don’t lose them to the insanity of sorcery.
Later that week, he picks up fresh, handpicked strawberries from a village he had exorcised a curse in. The grateful vendor offers it to him for free and has Suguru bowing low in thanks before slipping into the auxiliary manager's car where Satoru waits. His best friend eyes him suspiciously but Suguru merely waves him off, knowing he would drill questions into him back at their rooms.
Somehow he feels a thorn being wedged out of his chest.
In hindsight, it was trivial and absolutely ridiculous how long he had carried this guilt over something he truly didn't mean to do or that you even bothered to acknowledge. Someday he would come to laugh at these small moments.
He ignores how fast his heart beats in anticipation when he walks to your dorm and calls you into the common room. Your slippers shuffle across the wooden boards as you rounded the corner where he stood in the middle of the room. You were in your lounge wear, lollipop wedged between your lips and he guesses it's strawberry flavored. He suddenly feels his heart pick up pace when you eye him curiously, not returning the smile he sends you.
How awkward...
Suguru presents you a box with a neat bow tucked on top of the transparent film, showing you rows of luscious strawberries inside. He even made sure to taste whether they were sweet before taking them.
Based on his understanding of girls, they tend to swoon or go giddy over gifts. He expects you to do the same, he expects that same bright eyed stare you showed him the night you admitted to liking everything strawberry.
To his surprise, much like the first day you had arrived, you shoot him a nervous smile, thank him and gingerly take the box between your hands. He decides not to unpack that, awkwardly standing and staring in silence before he clears his throat and excuses himself.
You wave after him weakly as he leaves.
Did he somehow make things worse?
Shoko and Suguru stand outside a worn building of an all girls high school during a mission. They wait for Satoru who's still crowded by hormonal teenagers, swooning over the boy as he soaks up all the attention like a sponge. Shoko offers the box of cigarettes she smuggled into her pockets to which he shakes his head softly, before leaning against the wall.
After a beat, Shoko speaks between puffs of smoke,
"Hey, where'd you get those strawberries you got for the newbie? That was some good shit."
Suguru tilts his head in question, "You ate some?"
I mean, he guessed you'd share with her anyway as she lived with you.
"Some?" Shoko dryly laughs, "All of them."
Somehow, that makes his heart sink. Did you not like the strawberries? Was he too straightforward? Could you have understood something else from his actions?
It couldn't be, after all, you've been sharing so many things with Shoko and Satoru already.
It had to be him. It had to be about him. Just why was it so hard to connect with you like the others?
"Light me one," the ravenette sighs, opening his palm and ignoring his companion's intrigued stare.
Later, Satoru punches his shoulder with a boisterous laugh about the model student turning to delinquency and saying he'll snitch if they don't buy him a drink.
Suguru quietly wondered if you preferred those who were more on the wild side.
Suguru had just arrived back from Yaga's office to report after another curse removal case, limbs sore and throbbing. He welcomes the thought of a hot shower and an early night, skipping dinner all together. Arriving in the dorm, he's thankful it is empty and turns his phone on silent as he prepares for a well deserved downtime. While it's useless, he locks his door as an obvious statement to set the boundary for the boundless ball of energy which was Satoru. Suguru did not have the energy for being dragged out into one of his arcade trips. The annoyance can ask Shoko or you anyway.
At the thought of you, he noticed that the cafeteria and female dorm seemed empty when he walked past. He glances at the wall clock noting the time was a little past five o'clock.
Today was your second day at your new school, Yaga-sensei having shown you the trains, and commutes to get there and back. To Suguru, you seemed eager and a little jittery yesterday when you arrived back in Jujutsu High for dinner. He wouldn't blame you, you managed to land into one of the top 5 high schools in Tokyo. Your shaking fingers could either allude to the incoming stress or excitement.
School should be over an hour and a half ago, still you weren't home. Have you joined a school club this early on already?
Suguru shakes his head as he releases his bun, and turns on the shower. He's already miffed that you had occupied his concerns more than you should have when you were barely friends. Just acquaintances.
Perhaps it's hard to accept that he's unintentionally done something wrong that makes you estranged from him.
Or maybe some people just don't get along.
His hair drips over his bare shoulders after his shower, the steam relaxing as it rolls across his skin, the scent of bergamot hanging in the air as he leaves. He squeezes his hair with a towel, maneuvering through the neat little space towards the closet. It was five thirty by then, the sun setting low and casting a warm hue through his blinds. With the quiet hum of the cicadas, calming wafts of cedar, and his limbs weighing heavily in relaxation, he was nearly tempted to sleep with damp hair.
He's lazily tugging his sweat pants over his hips when he notices his phone flashing from his desk. He only hopes it is not Satoru, or he would have no choice but to turn his phone off instead for the much needed space from the boy who knows no boundaries. He grabs a shirt to pull over his head as he makes his way to his study table.
His movements freeze for a moment when he sees your name brightly glaring over the 'answer' and 'decline' button.
As if you would somehow see him shirtless, he haphazardly pulls his arms through the shirt and reaches for his phone. It slips through his large hands, as he fumbles for it so it wouldn't fall. He hisses a curse, hyper aware with how he looks like a bumbling teenager, eager to assist or please you after he had just resolved with himself to let it be.
And he presses the wrong button.
Suguru froze for a moment staring at the black screen and his traitorous thumb before rapidly calling you back.
He doesn't know why, but he takes a deep breath before speaking, "Hello?"
"Hey-uh-...hi, Getou-san."
Your voice is timid and hesitant. And would you look at that, while you call his two friends a variety of names in jest, you still address him by last name. He hears the faint murmurings and an automated call for passengers over the line which tells him you were in some station.
"Hey," Suguru says gently, hoping his approach coaxes you more, "Do you need anything? Finished with school?"
"Uh, no-I mean-yeah! Yeah, school's done. I don't need anything," your voice trails off like a question that does not convince him, "I was just wondering if…"
There's a pause and in those brief seconds, he was able to hear the blaring speakers through the phone: "Passengers for Koshu Kaido may now board."
He raises a brow in question, wondering why you were far off the route to the station near the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.
"...if you've ever gone to Fukutoshin! Is that place cool?" you casually retorted into the phone.
He knows he's supposed to act docile and nice for you to trust him but he can't help himself. He chuckles quietly before answering in an impish tone, "Do I think if a train is cool? Yeah, it's a pretty cool place."
He thinks he hears you squawk.
"Yeah, yeah definitely a cool train, I knew it was a cool train ," you stutter, highly embarrassed.
He thinks it's cute.
"I think I would want to use that train, y'know?" you continue, still hiding your true agenda for the call, "Like just sightseeing a bit before I get home…which is just a little north."
No. No it wasn't; it was west. West of Tokyo, the same side of Tokyo where both your school and Jujutsu High reside. Were you indirectly asking for directions because you were lost? Just how lost were you to reach a subway line headed north?
Suguru wants to keep playing your game, to tease you a little more, unable to stifle his amused smile as he leans his hip against his desk, "Right, just a little west."
"Yeah, yeah, I meant west like on the-" he hears shuffling, like you were whipping your head around before you continue, "-Chuo line."
And would you look at that, you didn't even know which went west, north, or south.
Finally taking pity, Suguru decides to be direct, "Where are you?"
"Station."
"Which station?"
"...train station?"
He fights the urge to facepalm at the sound of your genuine uncertainty, "Which train station?"
After a beat, you sigh, there's shuffling in your end, a muffled question asked to a stranger before you return to the line, "They said Higashi station."
Suguru takes a moment to deliberate, tilting his head to the ceiling. He could instruct you, could tell you the right subway line, tell you which direction to go, tell you which colors on the subway map you should follow. But he doesn't. Instead, he sees yet another opportunity to redeem himself over a matter that quite frankly, did not warrant it.
"Stay there and give me five."
Suguru guesses that the only reason you're gawking at him is that it's the first time you've seen him with his hair down, still damp and out of uniform.
Or that he managed to make it to the station an hour and a half away from where he originally was in under five minutes. The perks of having a curse on hand that can fly.
You quickly look around before tilting your head up with a palm cupping your mouth, "Do you do the warpy thing that Satoru does?"
He smiles at you as he rubs his neck, after all, you don't know his techniques or see them at all.
"No, I can manipulate the curses I consume," he explains, "Some of them are useful for transportation."
Your face lights up in understanding, hand is still cupped over your lips as you ask again, "So like a Pokemon? Your ability is to be a Pokemon trainer!"
The illustration makes him laugh, and it only serves to make you flush. He shrugs, some inky strands of hair framing the crinkle of his eyes, "I guess you can say that."
You smile at him crookedly before nodding. It falls quiet after that, save for the busy bodies marching in crowds past the two of you and the occasional beeping of announcements over the speakers. He takes his time observing you, twiddling with the hem of your blazer, crisp uniform and a bag slung across your shoulder. The strap has tugged your uniform shirt a little to the side, showing him a flash of irritated skin with imprints of the strap. It tells him how long you must have carried it with you and how it must have been heavy.
He extends a large palm towards you before softly asking, "Can I carry that for you?"
You blink owlishly at his open hand, your sore shoulder screaming for you to accept but your modesty gets the best of you, "I'm fine. You already came all this way for me. You must be really tired and-"
At the sight of Suguru's expression falling, the semblance of something warm and inviting being abruptly slammed shut is enough for you to forfeit the denial of his help. So you shrug the bag off your shoulder, holding back your relieved sigh as you pass it to him. His smile returns, tossing it over his shoulder like it was nothing.
Only then do you fully observe his loose shirt and baggy sweatpants. Classic signature look that you've picked up from the boy. He was probably supposed to relax in his room, his hair was still damp, leaving a stain across the collar of the dark shirt. It makes you feel a little more guilty and embarrassed for having inconvenienced him for your silly plight simply because you mistook the red and orange colors of the railway in the map.
"I'm really sorry," you mutter, brows creasing in shame as you bow your head, "Thank you for taking the time to come."
Suguru wants to pat your shoulder, push them back, tell you it was fine. Instead, he shuffles closer, shoves his hands in his pockets and musters his best reassuring smile, "Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about."
Unwilling to dwell in it, he quickly adds when you open your mouth, "So do you want me to show you how to get back home? Or are you tired? If so, I hope you wouldn't mind going for a ride on a thousand year old Ryu's back."
You visibly perk up at the mention of a dragon that you begin to debate on the best course. He chuckles and waits for your answer.
"The Ryu does sound appealing but," you trail off as you rub your shoulder, "I don't want to bother you again for the same reason. So I hope you don't mind if you show me how to get home."
Then as if that same timid and hesitant spirit overcame you, you quickly blurt out, "Unless, you're really tired, we can get home as fast as we can and I'll just talk to Uncle-"
"I'll show you how to get home," Suguru interjects, waving his hand for emphasis, "Then you can get that sightseeing you were talking about earlier."
You flush at the mention of your pathetic attempt to be subtle about being lost. The pout that tugs at your mouth nearly makes him laugh.
"Don't worry," he adds, now a little more confident to nudge your shoulder as he leads you towards the tracks, "It's not your only chance to get on a Ryu."
He's happy he offered because the way your eyes light up is priceless as you nod eagerly.
Suguru names the four main lines that run throughout Tokyo, pointing out which color and line you should follow. He's even kind enough to help you memorize certain patterns when you manage to get off the wrong station. The information is overwhelming, and you tell him that there were only ever two railroads back in your hometown and that you often took buses. He then begins to consider teaching you how you could ride the buses home instead of the crowded subways.
The exchange falls silent when getting into the train cars. He'd let you sit down on the only unoccupied seat, while he stood over you. When he realizes how much he towers over you and the way you start fidgeting and mindlessly scroll through your phone, he discreetly turns to his side to not intimidate you.
In a certain car, you both managed to get in during peak rush hour. The train is full, so compact that the oshiya would shove salary men and students into the car so the door wouldn't close in on them. It was during this ride where Suguru tenses and curls his abdomen inward with how you're nearly squashed into his chest. It causes him to perspire in effort. The curves would inevitably cause you to bump into his chest, have him stumble out of balance, or cause his hair to brush over your forehead.
The amount of times you would both turn red at the contact and mumble a soft apology would make the situation even more awkward.
But then, there was one train, thankfully the last one, that had plenty of room and unoccupied chairs. Suguru pauses, and tries not to make it obvious how he hovers between seats, wondering if he should sit across from you, sit beside you or sit in the same row three seats from you. The first one would have him ineptly stare straight at you, the second would perhaps startle you, and the last would probably make you feel rejected or avoided.
Yet before he could decide, he hears you pat the space beside you. You turn your head away, chewing the inside of your cheek and Suguru clears his throat before settling beside you. Your shoulders brush and you're once more surrounded by the warm scent of tea, bergamot, and cedar. He smells like a cozy cabin in the woods, like something welcoming and warm you'd look forward to.
It takes you both a good ten minutes before you relax, idly watching the buildings fade out into larger distances between each other. The sun nearly disappears into the horizon, blanketed by the navy blue sky. The quiet makes you feel aware of your weary muscles having frantically walked around in different stations in a panic. The slowing of your heart rate from the initial panic of being lost gives way to fatigue and relief knowing that you can trust your companion.
The train arrives at the station a little ways from Jujutsu High and the familiarity of the quaint site causes you to release a sigh. You smile when you recognize the tallest building of the school peer through the thick cradles of trees from a distance. You tilt your head up at your companion, bag comically small beneath his broad frame, inky tresses finally dry as they sway against the evening wind.
"Thank you," you tell him, smiling shyly when he peers at you with that fox-like gaze, "I really owe you one."
He chuckles and shakes his head, eyes crinkling as he replies, "No you don't, you're back safe and that's all that matters."
The sentence makes your chest feel light, feeling his genuine desire to help you out and not simply because your uncle could strangle him. In spite of the awkward rides in between, you were glad it was him.
"Really? I mean I could take over your cleaning schedule in the yard for a week," you coyly suggest as you pick up your pace to match his steps.
He looks at you incredulously, "Huh? No, I mean, what for? I just needed to help you get home."
The free service and genuine care makes you feel guilty for reasons you are not ready to unpack so you insist, "Is there anything at all that I can do for you?"
Suguru raises a thin brow and you groan, "Please I'd feel bad if I didn't return the favor."
Seeing you adamant over your offer, he pauses for a moment to think. As if a lightbulb had appeared on top of his head, he smirks at you over his shoulder.
"Well there is one thing."
With eagerness akin to a puppy you walk closer to him, "What is it?"
He hums, dragging out your anticipation as he combs his bangs away from his face. Somehow, the hair framing his face emphasizes the high cut of his cheek, the sharpness of his jaw, and the firm lines trailing down the column of his neck.
"Tell me," he says, tone light and a little playful, "Why you called me."
Your mouth gapes open at that as you stutter after him, "Wha-...what?"
Suguru shrugs, the tilt of his lips growing higher, "I mean you could have called your uncle."
"He's busy, I don't want to bother him over something he already taught me-"
“-Nanami and Yu?”
“And ruin my pride as their senior? No way-”
"-maybe even Shoko."
"She was already complaining to me last night about all the stuff she had to do today-"
"-or your best buddy, Satoru."
Your expression falls flat, unamused, before you scrunch your nose, "He's as useful as a bellybutton."
The childish comparison makes him snort before laughing aloud, it flows through the air like a melody before he waves a hand, shoving it back into his pocket, "Yeah, I get it. Guess you had no other choice huh?"
It sounded more pathetic and pitiful than he meant it to be. But he did mean it, after all he was the most sane of the two and that was enough for him to celebrate over as you had chosen to call him over his classmates. Its progress.
"Not really," you mumble, averting your gaze forward. Suguru hums inquisitively, brow raised in question.
The evening was calm, the cicadas were in symphony, and the lowlight of the streetlamps sharpened the shadows across your face. Yet your smile was warm, bright like a guttering candle when you tell him,
"It just felt right."
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is either unattended or out of coverage area. Please try your call again-"
Yaga clicks his tongue in frustration, abruptly flipping his phone shut, already peeved at the sight of his brother's name beside 14 missed calls. The man you call your father had shut his home out from the visiting authorities of Social Welfare as well as some auxiliary managers. He had every right to grieve, but the way he had completely abandoned you to wallow in his grief did not sit well with the sorcerer. The puppeteer just couldn't understand that man.
He never really got along with his older brother. He could never answer the "why" either.
His brother was individualistic and selfish to an extent that once he graduated, his first action was to move out and never look back. He didn't value his family, nor made any effort to reconnect. Not even when his brother was invited to his wedding to his ex which he turned down due to 'sickness'. Eventually even Yaga himself stopped trying to connect in any meaningful way.
The only time his brother willingly contacted family was for a small wedding that surprised his younger brother and his parents. Yaga was pretty sure it was for the sake of formality and respect to culture. He decided not to judge him for it but he would be lying if he didn't feel the slightest hope that maybe, they would connect.
Until he saw his future sister in law, enter with the tsunokakushi shrouding her face. He sees cursed energy, immense and dark. Not in a way that was gained through practice and experience but rather absorbed through bloodshed. Even in cold sweat, Yaga does nothing for the sake of the sacred ceremony. Especially when he sees the sickening, doe eyed way his older brother gazes at her is the only emotion he's ever seen from him.
Then you were born.
He worries for you but his older brother once more, seals shut the gates to any connection.
Yaga never had the chance to watch you grow up nor has any idea of what a home would look like to you under a man so obsessively devoted to his wife. And that was the problem, he suspects, his wife—not family, not you.
"Are you my Uncle Masamichi?" you quietly mutter from where you're crouched by the window of your sparsely furnished room. Outside the sirens are blaring, sorcerers bargaining with authorities to step back, and a curtain being cast. The flashing red and blue lights flicker across your face, the only thing lively over your empty stare.
Yaga clears his throat, carefully treading across the room in three strides. You don't flinch, gaze trained in the chaos outside your lawn. He's somewhat relieved there was not a scratch nor bruise on you, but the sallowness of your complexion and gaunt joints tell him of a suffering that hands cannot cause.
"Yes, I am," he finally says, squatting beside you to peer over your window.
"Are you gonna do that to me too?" your finger presses against the glass, gesturing to the struggling woman who spews curses, a trail of blood that is not her own in her wake as men in dark uniforms hold her down in an unseen force.
"Do what?" Yaga asks, testing to see whether you could the large cursed fist clamped over your mother's squirming body.
You only shrug, "Take me away with scary invisible things."
You were only seventeen but your eyes say you've seen more than you should in your age. They tell him you've already given up.
"No," he says firmly. And finally, you turn your head to look at him, lackluster but curious. He thinks it's worse looking at you now fully, a healing scar at the edge of your hairline that could not have resulted from a fall.
"I'm taking you with me," he tells you-no-he promises.
After a moment of silence, you turn back to witness the commotion that only intensifies when your father runs out the door, violently swinging a knife. It is immediately knocked off his grasp when a woman with braided hair easily dodges and locks his arm.
"That's good," you croak. Yaga feels the world crumble with you as you lean on your arms and release a sigh, "That's good."
A week later, mid spring…
Suguru finds himself rapidly rising past his first grade status with how quickly and ruthlessly he exorcises curses second grade and higher. His missions have become shorter, the durations almost the same as Satoru's personal missions. When the duo combined their efforts on the one goal, you create an unstoppable weapon barely giving a fair fight when it's begun.
They were the strongest.
Together there was nothing they could not handle.
Satoru whistles, a little impressed as he pockets his phone watching as the curtain melts away in dark liquid. He lazily smirks when he sees Suguru wipe away the grime from his cheek as he steps out of the dissipating curtains.
"Could ya be any slower?" Satoru calls out, "I would've finished that in five minutes."
Suguru raises a condescending eyebrow as he makes it to his best friend's side, "This was supposed to be our mission, Satoru."
"I would've wasted your time if I stepped in there."
"You definitely wasted your time since you only had me go in while you sit pretty out here."
"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" Satoru makes kissy faces towards Suguru who only shoves his face away, "It's not time wasted when you're resting."
The ravenette only rolls his eyes and scoffs. You were right, Satoru is as useful as a bellybutton. He nearly laughs, remembering your deadpan gaze as you tell him like it was a matter of fact.
At the thought of you, he checks his phone for the time.
4:16 PM
You were just about to finish your school club right now.
He pushes himself off his knees to stand, "Well, let me not interfere with your beauty rest then."
Satoru sputters when he sees his best friend manifest a cursed dragon from his palm, "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere," Suguru answers as he climbs on the obsidian dragon, wisps of smoke curling around him.
"But we got plenty of time to kill," the white haired boy stands up, when he sees Suguru make no sign of staying, he haggles, "Who's gonna report to Yaga-sensei?"
The curse tamer raises an amused brow, "You will for once."
Satoru waves his arms, "Why are you in such a rush, dude? Ya got a hot date or somethin'?"
Suguru finds that he is pushing himself more and more, climbing past the previous limits he had. Then soon enough started to rival his best friend as a powerhouse in his own right. Suguru didn't want to linger where death treads when he could be elsewhere .
He finished faster this time. And there was a good reason for it.
When Suguru doesn't answer, leaving Satoru behind in a cloud of dust and smoke, he bellows out, "You unfaithful jerk! I thought it was only ever just the two of us forever!"
Suguru flips his middle finger up in the air and Satoru violently lifts both of his in return.
"Getou-san! Sorry, did you wait long?" you jog to his side, after having pushed through the crowded station. Your uniform is askew in the rush and your face is flushed as you huff and lean on your hip.
Suguru only smiles in amusement, shakes his head while opening his palm to which you immediately hand your bag as a habit you picked up from the succeeding days he's accompanied you in train rides. Whatever bashfulness and skittishness you had earlier for him had waned quickly enough. Whether it was from the new found friendship or the comforting presence the ravenette holds it was hard to tell.
"Yeah, I grew one grey hair during the wait," he answers humorously, leaning down to point at his jet black locks, "If you squint, they're probably two now that I can blame Satoru for-"
You punch his shoulder with stifled laughter. He chuckles, rubbing his arm with feigned hurt before nudging you towards the tracks. He couldn't help but notice you trying to hide how you cradle your hand that punched him.
Suguru made it a point to accompany you during your train rides till you had fully mastered the ropes. Truthfully, you both know you know you've nailed it after the third day but neither of you acknowledge it anyway. Occasionally, you would vocalize how you worry about taking advantage of him or how he could be tired from missions. He only brushes it off, assuring you he would always put his duties first to appease you.
If you were to ask him, Suguru would say he wanted to make sure you wouldn't get lost and if others were to ask he wanted to be there as a deterrent for perverts who sometimes ride the trains. Really, he enjoyed spending time with you.
It's only been a few days when you talk less of the metro, and talk more of how your day went, how he manages to store curses, and how different your schools are.
It takes a little more of seeing each other beyond first impressions till you don't mind how he hangs over you during a ride while you're seated. Giggling quietly when you would sometimes text each other to communicate when you are right in front of each other.
It takes a little more of getting accustomed to each other's voice and warmth that stops Suguru from tensing his stomach in tight train rides. Your apologies are less frequent, relaxing against him when pressed against his chest, familiar with the scent of musk, tea, and cedar. He even shyly offers you his arm when your own becomes too tired, hanging on the handlebars overhead. You accept, realizing that only denying the advances of your friendship would turn it awkward. Still, you struggle to hide your blush when you feel the firm corded bicep beneath his uniform.
It takes a little more getting comfortable with the silence that has you both relaxing against each others' shoulders. Occasionally, you would lean over to peer at a nonsensical text from Satoru that was too amusing to keep to himself. Briefly, he would take a waft of your shampoo and faint fabric conditioner.
It's progress. It becomes easier. Easier to talk, easier to look at each other, easier to be snarky, and easier to laugh along.
Suguru thinks that he sees a raw version of you as you heatedly bicker and gibe with Satoru, he thinks he's privileged to see the slowly budding openness in your expression, presence and speech in a softness he was almost convinced you didn't have.
With the way you didn't mourn your mother, the way the odd piece of you fits into the jigsaw puzzle of jujutsu sorcerers, the way you have no problem calling out Satoru's bullshit, or the way you absorb Shoko's blunt nature—it's like you've always been tough, always been ready for this moment.
You walk ahead of him when entering through the protective curtain of the school; he'd arrive a little later to avoid any raised suspicion. It was just for awhile, just for now but you both act as if it would go on for a while.
Before you do, you'd thank him with a smile, the guttering candle growing brighter each time. He'd wave after you, disappearing before you get a chance to turn around and wave again. Only you'd see him during dinner, or around campus, going about as if you hadn't been with each other an hour back.
It was just for awhile, just for now, then you won't have any need for him. You'd both carry on independently while he'd be content with what had already begun.
Until later, he doesn't realize he won't ever be content, a blooming desire to know you, will never leave him.
"Those strawberries look fresh."
"Mm, yeah they sure do," you hum absentmindedly as you both walk past a fruit vendor's stall.
You halt in your steps when you realize that Suguru slows in his steps, cocking his head to the side as you turn to him, "Don't you want any?"
You sputter and scratch your nose. You look away as you shrug, "No, I'm good."
"For later," he presses and if he weren't so damn cute with that sincere smile while he reaches into his wallet, you'd be annoyed. You rock on your heels, debating on whether to ruin the image or deal with discreetly getting rid of the strawberries. He notices your hesitance quickly. It was something you come to admire about him, his quick observance and consideration for anyone he is with.
"Didn't you say you liked strawberries?" he discloses uncertainly. You purse your lips, before you slouch with a sigh.
"I...only like the flavor," you admit, "I don't like the fruit itself."
He stares at you dumbly, processing the revelation word for word. Part of you expects him to be irritated, mournful over the strawberries he brought you weeks ago but he isn't. Instead he laughs, shoving his hands back into his pockets as he walks forward.
"That's a relief," is what he only tells you in a light breath, "A little odd but a relief."
You’re not sure what he meant but a few nights later, you find a bag with your name on it in the freezer. Having been familiar with Shoko’s handwriting, you’re sure it's not from her. It’s too neat and too kind of a gesture to be from Satoru.
You peer inside and squeal before thanking the heavens that Satoru hadn’t gotten to it before you did. You bounce on your feet, giddy over the strawberry yogurt popsicle and two cartons of strawberry milk
You have a pretty good idea of who it could be.
You:
I'll be with you in a bit, uncle!
(12:39 PM)
Yaga visits your dormitory one day, bringing in a variety of paper bags in his arms and sets them on the shared kitchen table. It's a hot day out, spring season is fading into the summer. But he's pretty sure his clammy hands and forehead are not a result of the heat but rather nervous anticipation.
He's a teacher, he's dealt with handfuls of hormonal pain in the ass teenagers in the past but he's never had to care for one in a familial manner. He's already done a shitty job, he thinks, for delegating many of the tasks to his students and managers to accommodate you than do it himself. He worries that his company and presence is boring, and that you need friends more than family.
Or perhaps he's never fully had closure over the reason his ex-wife divorced him for the nature of his job. It's silly but he guessed part of it was, he was never enough reason to stay for.
"Hey, Uncle!" you chime as you slide through the kitchen.
Yaga is awkwardly standing with the abundance of bags set onto the table. He nods his head and you remain where you are waiting for him to say anything regarding the "come to the dorm kitchen" text he's sent.
You scratch your elbow and glance at the paper bags with labels of fast food, donuts, and elegant paper boxes with a gold embossed logo. Each restaurant seemed to belong to a certain preference of the second year trio.
"Uh, food smells good," you say when the big man says nothing, "Are those for the students?"
"No," Yaga responds slowly, and at the tilt of your head, he clears his throat then answers, "No, they're for you. I was thinking you'd want them for lunch. Or sometime later?"
Your face almost immediately brightens in joy as you scurry over the counter, "Really?"
"Really."
Whatever doubts of his parenting lingered, they dissipate when you bounce on your feet and shuffle through each paper bag, "This is a lot, Uncle!"
"I wasn't sure what you liked," he admits, leaning with his fist on the table. He only bought what Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru often got for themselves. He truly had no idea what your preference was. Should he have asked you instead?
You find one bag in particular with your favorite restaurant's label and grin broadly. You feel like your face will split in two when you fish for the contents, "This one's my favorite!"
Yaga takes mental note of the restaurant, relieved he's at least nailed one correctly. You bound towards the drawers and pull out different plates accumulated by previous residents then left behind. You set two clean ones on the table, "I can't eat these all by myself, Uncle. Let's eat!"
You pat at the side of the table set up for him in earnest invite that it takes your uncle a moment to register that this would be the first meal he'd share with family after nearly eighteen years. It's an odd sensation he cannot name, but it's enough for him to settle on the rickety stool.
You both clasp your heads, recite your gratitude before you look at your uncle with a timid smile. The words you say tell Yaga that maybe for once, he's done something right with family.
"I'm grateful for you, Uncle Masa."
As his eyes sting with unshed tears Yaga is glad for his choice in sunglasses. He coughs into the napkin awkwardly and replies in full honesty,
"I'm grateful for you too, kid."
Three months in your new home and new routines, Suguru's companionship becomes occasional with the rise of his missions as a newly named special grade sorcerer alongside his best friend and mysterious sorcerer named Tsukumo. It makes him proud with the achievement but a little bummed at the cost. Yet, he makes it a point to call you for convenience store runs or grocery shopping. It always had to have a reason, an agenda, or duty that would warrant you there. A little demure and modest to ask you to hang out for the hell of it. He goes as far as to offer his help in subjects you struggle with. You expected it but it still boggles you how much smarter he is than he let on.
You appreciate his efforts with being intentional on spending time with you. It catches you off guard at first, but you've come to accept that Suguru was just a genuine person with lots of care in his heart than he'd blatantly show. It was so different from what you were used to dealing with when it came to relationships.
His nature is quiet, quiet in his service, quiet in his loyalty to Satoru, quiet in his support for Shoko as he lights a cigarette with her, quiet with his punctuality to see you, quiet with the surprise paper bags he leaves in your fridge.
In his quiet there was peace that you welcome.
On Suguru's end, he's drawn to the sense of normalcy you bring him. It's bittersweet how he realizes how different his world is from yours, how your troubles weigh you in ways that don't require blood and tragedy. Still, your presence and insight helps to pull him back from the sticky shadows of curses and sorcerers. From his own mind. It's a sacred thing to have something, someone, he knows he could not lose to the madness of sorcery.
You:
hey , u free?
(2:18 PM)
Me:
yeah
(2:19 PM)
You:
wanna do something?
(2:19 PM)
Me:
do u need my help?
(2:21 PM)
You:
no
(2:22 PM)
i was just wondering if u wanna go for a walk
(2:23 PM)
Me:
to where?
(2:23 PM)
You:
tf
(2:25 PM)
its just a walk dummy
(2:25 PM)
Suguru combs his hair through his bangs that obscure his vision just to check if he read it right. It takes a beat for him to register. Just a walk. No agenda. No errands. No compulsory reason.
You:
u comin or what
(2:28 PM)
Me:
yeah… meet u out in five.
(2:29 PM)
"Isn't he cute!" you coo, holding up a palm sized green felt doll shaped like a puppy with a flower hat in blue petals. Suguru's smile is a little more wobbly when he nods, gulping dryly when he recognizes the cursed corpse doll and the energy coming from it.
"Uncle Masa gave him to me," you let it hang back on its keychain, fastened by the metal of your messenger bag. You pat it like a salesman patting the hood of a car, "Told me it was to keep me safe since I couldn't see curses."
"That's great," he comments while you walk alongside each other in a nearby park. The boy side-eyes the doll suspiciously, before discreetly asking, "So…does this mean Yaga-sensei can see you?"
You shake your head, " 'Course not."
Suguru relaxes a little at that.
"The way it works is it becomes bigger when I'm threatened by a curse," you explain while stretching your arms, "It would…er I dunno, do some cool jujutsu shit while I contact Uncle or any other sorcerer."
Suguru hums, visualizing what you told him until you pinch the edge of his shirt. He tilts his head back to look at you, halting in his steps. Your brows are furrowed and with great determination you say, "Try it on me!"
The boy turns around in confusion, "Huh?"
"Like, choose your poke-curse and attack me. I wanna see how it works."
"What?" he frowns, "I would never hurt you."
You know what he means but the statement causes your heart to skip a beat. Your fingers pinch the fabric of his cotton shirt harder, "You won't? I mean…if this will really protect me-"
"You can't even see curses," Suguru reasons when you don't let up.
"But I can still see the doll right?"
"Yeah?"
"Then do it, come at me, bro."
The curse tamer sighs, his shoulders slouching forward, "No."
"Why not?" your voice is close to begging but Suguru's resolve is firm.
"I already told you," he says a little more firmly, bangs obscuring his eyes as he bows his head to gently pluck your wrist off his shirt. "I can't hurt you. No, I refuse to do so."
"Bu-but you won't!" you press as you clasp your hands, "Please, Getou, I really wanna see how it works!"
He brings a hand to his neck, rubbing it while he stares at you seriously, "Listen, I am a sorcerer and I may be able to manipulate curses but-"
With a deep breath, "It's not something non sorcerers or even us, would want to experience."
You want to protest, frowning deeply to make a point that you were old enough to hold your own, that it can't be that bad.
"Cursed energy is an accumulation of all negative things from humans," Suguru says before you can open your mouth, "It's a terrible thing to immerse yourself in. Imagine all the fears, the hate, and the resentment in pure energy just engulfing you. All the worst things that are a part of humans just infecting you, drowning you."
His eyes soften as they meet yours, "I can't do that to you."
Your brows unfurl, the curling of your lips dropping as you begin to understand. Suguru smiles softly, not a trace of deception on his face. It overwhelms you, so much so you think you could fall to your knees and weep.
Because you don't remember your mother ever considering that for you. You only accept it as part of her nature, part of your life. The constant heaviness that hangs around her and squeezes your throat when she's upset with you. The struggle to understand a world you can't see yet lived in was frustrating. Yet you tried to let it pass, pretending you understand just so the squeeze in your throat leaves you. Just so your father can look at you when you've done something right by letting whatever his wife wants to happen, happen.
There's a "why" at the tip of your tongue when you look at Suguru. A desperate plea to understand this world and the difference between people like your mother and people like Suguru. But instead, you manage a soft, "Then why let yourself suffer cursed energy?"
Suguru quietly watches the play of emotions across your face, an odd but welcome sight to see a skin-deep expression from you. After a beat, he answers the same answer he tells Satoru.
"Society should help protect the weak and keep the strong in check," he glances at the green doll hanging by your hip, "Jujutsu sorcery exists to protect non sorcerers."
You understand. At least a little bit about what is behind your good friend's kind smile, sincere gaze. A little bit more of the scars that run between his palms and along the corded muscles of his arms.
Till you fully do, you only nod with a wobbly smile. You fall into step with him as you carry on, the pace of you two syncing as natural as being around each other so much. You don’t see the prettiest pink flush that rests high on his cheekbones when you lean against him with a broad smile,
"I think I understand you a bit more, Getou-kun."
Roughly four months in and the honeymoon phase of your new life has begun to wane.
It's a struggle to keep up the act of being a normal teenager.
It begins with the sleepless nights, the overbearing weight of not having enough courage to face your sentiments over your mother's death. It's a constant turmoil between feeling nothing and the frustrated urge to feel something. You've cried and mourned over your dead puppy more than you had your mother. You haven't cried at all. Hell, you could not even remember your last words to each other.
Then school stress follows. You transferred schools in the middle of the year, which meant you had a lot to catch up on while trying not to make waves. The curriculum was far different from the one you had back home which earned you extra work. Thankfully, your classmates were kind, you managed to make a few friends and even developed a crush on one of your seniors. Still, you missed out a lot on their invites to after-school hangouts when you were stuck with completing your catch up work for classes.
Later on one of those busy days, your uncle calls you to his office. Both of you settled in your chairs, cozily drinking your hot beverages from a quaint cafe. He quietly informs you of your father's absence in the matters of your mother's death and your care. Yaga passes a folder over to you, and you open it to find a consent form to his guardianship. You read over the contents that state your “guardian’s” responsibility and your rights. You eagerly search for the line you could sign on. You don't care. You don't want to go back. Ever. But he halts you from taking the pen and haphazardly signing, telling you you'd both have to go to the Social Welfare Department for formalities. He tells you to think it through, whether you'd want to stay in this kind of life for the foreseeable future. That you had options if you wanted a clean slate.
You don't answer him directly, but you invite him to your school's Parent-Teacher Conference. You think you see him trying not to smile at the news.
You want to belong, heaven knows you do.
When you come back to the dorms after a long day at school, you find Shoko, still in her uniform, lying on the couch. She usually smokes outside or by the window for your sake. This time she doesn't make it. She's lying there with the cigarette burnt dangerously close to her lips with an arm over her eyes. You know something is wrong, it felt wrong to ask so you don't. Instead, you quietly go to your room. You figure that she might not be up for dinner at the canteen. So you order your usual favorites with her for delivery, unfazed by the fact that it cost half your allowance for the week. You can survive with bread for lunch the next few days.
You find Shoko slumped over the dining table, ashtray by her side. You scrunch your nose at the smell and sight of nearly half a pack freshly stumped out on the ceramic. She lifts her head up when she hears the crinkling of paper bags and the savory smell of the food you ordered. You silently take out the contents and situate her favorite meal in front of her and yours beside her. The brunette's gaze is empty but she sighs, putting out the cigarette to fill her body with something beside tobacco and nicotine. You offer her a wry smile, squeezing her hand before turning to your meal.
It is only halfway through the meal she speaks, the heavy bulwark of her heart creaking open.
"They brought in a rare case today," she says, staring morosely at the open bento, "He was a fucked up experiment of some unknown curse user. Cause of death: his blood had been forcefully mixed with a cursed spirit's."
You set down your drink to listen attentively, noting how her fingers shook before she clenches them.
"He was only seven ."
You both lost appetite after that.
There was not a word said, hers only remained the heaviest, the most relevant that you can't speak after that. You can't tell her it's okay because it's not. You can't tell her that it will pass, it won't. You can't say you understand because you can't. So you both pack away the bentos, placing them in the fridge before mindlessly watching TV while you do your homework on the floor. You would occasionally glance over to Shoko, the lilac bruises beneath her eyes stark against the LED light of the screen as she stares.
You feel a shadow of your past shroud you in the ugly realization of not being able to understand. There's a prominent gap between you and Shoko whom you have come to love. Like a snail trying to understand what it meant to fly, it was impossible. But this time, you wish you could understand so you can empathize with her. You want her to share your burdens with you.
"It's a terrible thing to immerse yourself in. Imagine all the fears, the hate, and the resentment in pure energy just engulfing you. All the worst things that are a part of humans just infecting you, drowning you."
Then you feel hesitant, glancing once more over to Shoko who seems like a shell of herself. Did you really want to be part of this world?
What was it like for Suguru and Satoru who were on the battlefield where they saw the gruesome horrors first hand? How could they be so...human after that? Why did people your age have to see such things while others lived on not ever knowing such horrors?
What was it like for Suguru who consumes the curses of humanity?
Suddenly, all your prior worries don't matter when you realize that your friends were literally bordering on the edge of insanity for the people who didn't even know thank them.
You think about your uncle, who was leading these students and who was rumored to be in line for the principal job next year. Would you be an extra burden to him at this rate?
There's a nudge to your side and you jump when you see Shoko's foot resting by your hip. She tilts her head over at you.
"Thanks," her eyes sparking with a little more life, "Woulda' gone insane back there."
Oh, you know you would if you were to stand in a stale lab with several open bodies laid out on the tables for you to dissect and peel apart. You pat her ankle and smile, unsure of what else to say so you settle for,
"It must have been hard."
The brunette blinks, smiling crookedly as she rests her head against the couch, "It won't be the last. You're so damn lucky."
You know what she really means, but you grin and quip,
"Guess I am. Because I have a great friend like you."
"Lame," she shoves your back with your foot, smiling at your indignant squawk.
The honeymoon phase has left when you're confronted with your reality.
Getou Suguru:
u both didnt come to dinner awhile ago.
(9:03 PM)
is everything alright?
(9:03 PM)
did u eat? i have extra ramen. i can bring it to you guys if you want.
(9:05 PM)
You don't bother to hide your smile over Suguru's concern. If there was anything you noticed, he could literally be the dad of the friend group.
You:
yeah…just didn't feel like eating canteen food (≡ε≡；)
(9:06 PM)
Getou Suguru:
sure? just let me know.
(9:08 PM)
You:
i will, thanks dad.
(9:08 PM)
Getou Suguru:
yaga-sensei will have my head for that honor.
(9:09 PM)
You:
lol (≧▽≦)
(9:09 PM)
Getou Suguru:
i can pick u up from school tomorrow. i dont have any missions.
(9:16 PM)
You:
good for u! u've been away for quite a bit.
(9:16 PM)
u should rest! besides i was able to ride the trains without u for nearly a month ヽ(；▽；)ノ
(9:17 PM)
Getou Suguru:
oh she's a big girl now huh.
(9:18 PM)
i feel fine, besides u need to tell me all about this crush shoko's mentioned.
(9:19 PM)
You shriek and bury your face into the pillow at the mention of Sakamoto-senpai who had the flare of a gentleman, smooth voice and an angelic face to go with it.
You:
that traitor :(
(9:21 PM)
Getou Suguru:
haha pick u up at 4:30?
(9:22 PM)
You:
oh u mean pick me up pick me up?
(9:24 PM)
Getou Suguru:
yes i got it the first time smartass
(9:26 PM)
You:
:P
ok.
(9:28 PM)
Sometimes you're convinced that weather reports were a scam. That morning when you brushed your teeth, you stood in front of the TV where the lovely Tsukamoto-san promised the citizens a lovely day with the right amount of sunlight and warmth to fully welcome the summer with a smile full of professional confidence.
Well, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold and your bacon burns, Tsukamoto-san.
It's pouring heavily and suddenly as if it was punishment from the gods. The summer storm was merciless, even cutting off some reception on your phones as you stood by the entrance after school with several students trying to catch signal by hovering their phones in the air. Looks like you're not the only one betrayed by the red-haired reporter.
Some students dared to brave the weather with only their jackets only for those who returned soaked to be jeered at by the others. Seeing that was warning enough to stay put.
You sigh, leaning your head against a cold pillar as you look on and wait for the rain to subside. You've given up trying to gain signal so you could tell Suguru he doesn't have to pick you up in this weather. After all, he's been working too hard lately, exposing him like this on a day he's supposed to rest would potentially get him sick. You guess he wouldn't come anyway.
"It's Sakomoto-senpai!"
"Does he have an umbrella?"
"He does!"
"Kya! Do you think he'd share with one of us?"
The mention of your crush and apparently everyone's crush causes you to stiffen and you try not to eagerly turn around to catch a glimpse of the tall student with perfectly coiffed hair, sharp navy blue eyes and you were definitely staring enough to note that he had a lone beauty mark beneath his lashes. You hear a group of both boys and girls muttering amongst themselves in excitement as you hear footsteps approaching. The students bet amongst themselves with who gets the privilege to be spoken to or even glanced at. He's like a celebrity without the haters. Everyone liked him somehow.
"Wow, Sakomoto-kun, you're really prepared!"
"Yeah, even after the weather report told us that it would be a good day!"
You're sure he brought an umbrella with him, he was perfect in every way.
You feel goosebumps when Sakomoto speaks, "You can never be too prepared."
It was a simple statement but it makes everyone swoon. You already feel a blush creeping up your neck but you still dare not turn around, even when he sounds so close. There's a soft call of your family name and you stiffly turn your head to find the man towering over you. Sakomoto rarely smiles but his face is always friendly.
And he was looking at you.
You hear the intrigued whispers and sighs of how lucky you are that only heighten when the campus crush asks you, "I noticed you were waiting long. Would you like to share an umbrella with me?"
You feel all eyes on you.
You lose all ability to speak. Your luck has never struck this hard as you only gape at him like a fish out of water. You've only spoken to him a few times before and each time was embarrassing and a hard hit of how he was out of your league. But he was never arrogant or fazed by your or anyone's stuttering and short circuiting.
One of your classmates shoot you a thumbs up.
Your mind races to ten minutes into the future where you'd inevitably press closer to him for shelter from the rain. You'd imagine he smells like something sweet in the spring. Then when he leaves you at the station, he'd bow and smile, wishing for your safety. At present, he patiently watches you as you let out an unearthly sound from your throat.
"Who's that?"
"He's super tall!"
"Is he a college student?"
"He looks so mysterious…and super cool."
"Is he someone's brother?"
You're momentarily distracted by the curious whispers and by the small twitch from your curse detecting doll. You turn around to find that there was indeed someone walking towards you with a confident stride carrying an umbrella overhead. Your jaw drops for the second time that day to recognize it to be Suguru, in casual clothes with a loose white shirt under a dark grey haori, black sweatpants hiked to the sharp cut of his calves and leather sandals. He has paper bags hung over his elbows which have some wet stains from the rain.
You completely forget about your senior when worry and surprise vacate your headspace as Suguru closes the umbrella to approach you. His pleased smile, you stupidly compare, was like the warmest thing you've seen today.
"Sorry, I'm late," he says when he steps closer to you, bowing his head politely to your classmates and senior, "It started raining and I figured you needed a few things."
"Getou-kun, you didn't have to," you protest when you notice his wet feet, arm, and damp bangs that cling to his forehead, "It's pouring! You could get sick and you only just came back."
"Are they a couple?"
"I think so?"
"No, she hasn't mentioned anybody before!"
"Maybe a suitor?"
"Secret baby daddy would explain the sudden transfer?"
The blush that settled on your neck creeps all the way up to your ears at the implications. Your classmates weren't very discreet either when you shot them a helpless look. One only winks at you with a peace sign in jest.
"I'm fine," Suguru assures you as he reaches inside the bags he carries, "Here, I bought you a raincoat-"
You sputter when he unravels a bright blue raincoat with some yellow stars smattered at the bottom, the rubbery fabric crinkling as you take it.
"-and rainboots, I hope they're your size?"
He pulls out a matching pair of blue boots with the same tiny yellow star designs.
You're stunned, a plethora of emotions clashing over you all at once. You stare at the blue material, the rush of the rain before you befuddling your senses.
Honeymoon stage? What the hell were you on about?
Since you've moved to Tokyo everyone around you has been nothing but kind. Your uncle, in spite of his professional wrestler ex-yakuza exterior, had tried hard to become the best parental figure for you, harder than your own father even bothered to try. Nanami and Yu were an adorable pair you've come to grow fond of seeing here and there. Shoko was closer to a sister that you never had despite her distaste for loud emotions and drama. Satoru seemed determined to let you in on his mischiefs and while he gave you a migraine at times, he offered you more fun than you know you've received in your lifetime.
Then there was Suguru, who went out of his way to be with you.
To think that these people can see and deal with horrors so you never have to.
Honeymoon stage? No, this was your reality, a better reality than what you had until now.
The familiar scent of cedar and bergamot hits you when you Suguru steps closer to take the material from your hands and drape it across your figure. You wordlessly fit your hands through the sleeves, the raincoat smelling like new. It was a little too long so the ravenette folds the sleeves to your wrist, the warm smile on his face never leaving. He bends down to nudge the boots over to you while he picks up the school shoes you shimmy off and places them inside the paper bag. Thankfully, the boots fit just right.
You're unaware of the swoons and sighs from your classmates and the silent praise from Sakomoto when Suguru picks up your school bag and hangs it over his shoulder. He gently picks up the hood of the raincoat, shrouding it over your head and admiring your flustered expression. Each touch makes you want to lean into the warmth it provides.
"Ready?"
You gingerly nod and vaguely notice that his voice sounds deeper when his arm brings you closer to him as he opens the umbrella. He gives one final bow to your classmates and you can't bring yourself to look them in the eye as they snicker and make kissy noises. You even forget about your crush who stands unfazed before offering to share an umbrella with the next person.
He definitely did not have to pester Shoko, forfeiting all pride over this mystery.
The rain is loud as it grows stronger and the streets are nearly empty save for a few brave souls who decidedly run through the downpour and into an open shop. In the middle of trudging through the rain, you both decided you'd inevitably get wet with the combination of the gusty winds. So you find shelter in a shaded alley beside Yamanaka's Flower shop.
It's a little more quiet away from the streets and you sigh in relief, letting down the hood of your raincoat so you could release a breath. You glance over at Suguru who flicks away the water droplets off his arm. The misty air had caused his shirt to cling over his chest giving you a faint view of the well sculpted muscles you are just realising he has.
He brushes his hair back and notices you staring. He innocently glances down and your eyes meet. It's silent for a moment while you admire his fox-like eyes, irises a deep umber, the slope of his nose and the rosiness of his lips. You feel warm, not in a frenzied flustered but the slow realization of how much you've come to be so familiar and so drawn to-
“So, that was him?”
You blink, tilting your head, thoroughly confused at the sudden question. His thin brow raises, one side of his mouth tilting up.
“Eh?”
“Mr. School Heartthrob back there.”
Oh. Sakomoto-senpai.
You’re suddenly flustered, rubbing the back of your neck as you stammer, “Uh…yeah.”
Suguru hums.
It was no competition at all with how your classmates coo and swoon at the sight of you two or how quickly you had forgotten about Mr. School Heartthrob the moment he sauntered in.
You notice how his gaze falls from being curious to an air of haughtiness. Just as you were about to open your mouth to explain it was merely admiration, there’s incessant buzzing from your pocket. Your phone has finally reached signal.
You snap out of your daze and begin fumbling beneath the coat and open your phone to notice the rapidly incoming missed messages from both Suguru and your uncle. Your uncle's missed calls begin to register and you quickly with numb fingers struggle to call him back.
You excuse yourself and Suguru merely nods with a polite smile.
"Hi, Uncle Masa," you chirp when he picks up, "Sorry, the rain was so strong and I got signal just now."
"I was calling to ask if I could pick you up, it's pouring and you could get sick."
Your heart swells at the concern, the bruised and broken parts of it eagerly reaching for any warmth and affection offered.
"That's really nice of you, Uncle," you mutter, cheeks growing as warm as your smile, "But I'm fine, Getou-kun picked me up."
At the mention of his name, Suguru's eyes widen in alarm as he whips his head towards you as you happily keep chatting with his teacher.
"Getou?"
"Mhm, he's been the one showing me how to get on trains when he's free too."
Oh shit. What was his teacher going to think? What would he say? The man was like a father to you now, would he have his head for "sneaking" around with his daughter? Wait, was he even sneaking around? Did it look like he was?
Oblivious to your companion's sudden panic, both members of the Yaga bloodline keep chatting casually.
"I see," Yaga clears his throat from the other line, "And you didn't tell me about this?"
Suguru pales. He never imagined that the day would come where his teacher would kill him first before Satoru after he's been doing so well with school.
"Oh uh," you scratch your cheek in confusion, "Sorry, Uncle. I'll tell you these things next time! But he's been really kind to do these for me, he even helped me out with social studies and industrial arts."
"He did?"
Suguru wants to crawl in a hole and contemplate his life's choices. He would never take back what he's done for you but he just hasn't figured out this part of your uncle learning about it. Why the hell was he worked up about it anyway? There was nothing of malicious intent in his actions. Nothing that had otherwise implications. Right?
Right?
"Yeah, yeah," you grin into the phone, oblivious to your uncle's intrigued and suspicious tone.
"Okay…"
The curse tamer inhales.
"Well, alright. I do need to talk to you...soon."
And chokes.
"I have a …surprise."
And sputters quietly.
"A surprise?" you nearly bounce off the pavement in excitement, "Sure thing, Uncle Masa. See you soon!"
"See you."
The phone clicks and Suguru is rigid as you pocket your phone and tilt your head up at him with a broad grin,
"Did you hear that, Suguru-kun?"
Of course, he did.
And he hears how pleasantly his name rings with your voice.
The ravenette nods and you sigh, leaning back onto the brick wall. You're unaware of your companion's inner dialogue and contemplations. You look back over the unpopulated streets, save for bitter, regretful civilians who are soaked and slouched as they power walk through the rain. It begins to subside, no longer harshly beating but a steady stream instead. The flowers in the shop beside you seem to welcome the weather, opening up wafts of citrus and sweet.
Pretty soon, you'd be too excited for the surprise and wonder if now is too soon to saunter into the rain. Anyway, you're protected, lovingly draped with the pastel blue raincoat.
You look back up at Suguru, whose gaze is far off and ruminating. You gently tug at his fingers loosely curled around the paper bags. He tilts his head back up at you, momentarily confused as he shifts back into the present. Your smile is wider than the one you gave him when he first brought you through the trains. The guttering candle into warm embers of a fireplace and now a flickering open flame.
"Thanks for taking care of me, Suguru-kun."
"You would really make a great dad, y'know," you tell him as you get off the last train, "Daddy Suguru."
Suguru stifles the disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. If Satoru were around, he'd snicker and guffaw like the hormonal teenager he is. But the way it innocently rolls off your tongue as you gesture imaginary quotations flusters him when you repeat the name yet again.
"Oh, now I know what to put you on my contacts!"
You miss how quickly he turns beet red when you type out his new contact name, too stunned to speak.
But when you do notice his red ears as he takes a step further than you, you scrunch your brows in confusion. The rain has stopped as you step out of the station, leaving heavy droplets that drip from the camphor trees overhead and the fresh scent of after rain. You catch up with his pace,
“Hey, did I offend you?” you worriedly call out as you rush towards him down the steps. There’s sudden panic rising up your chest when he only walks faster. Suguru’s big shoulders tense as he tries to tuck his head between them, hiding the bright flush that rises to his cheeks.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean you that you looked old or anything-”
There’s a loud splat that causes the ravenette to freeze.
“Ow.”
He swiftly turns around to find you sprawled to the ground, supporting yourself on your knees. You had slipped at the final step.
Suguru drops the closed umbrella as he rushes towards you, “Are you alright? You should be more careful next time.”
His movements stutter when he notices your misty eyes and vulnerable stare. He promptly checks your scraped palms and bruised knees. He frowns at the blooming droplets of red, “Does it hurt? I can carry you back-”
“Why did you-”
Your voice sounds strained, nearly choked that Suguru looks back to find a different kind of hurt in your eyes. They’re glassy with unshed tears, horrified, and reaching deeper than a nasty fall. Perplexed, he opens his mouth to apologize but you chase him to it. You shake your head like you had second thoughts,
“Sorry,” you stammer as you prompt yourself to get up, “I’ll be careful next time. I won’t do it again.”
Suguru’s frown shifts into one of wonder. The sudden switch of helplessness to one of guilt baffles him. The air about you changes as he helps you by the hand like a newborn lamb struggling on its legs.
“No, don’t be,” he mutters, softly tightening his grasp on your hand when you pull away, “I shouldn’t have walked too fast.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, an open window to which Suguru peers in and wonders just about how many were there for him to see you. What is it that causes you to briefly crack and show a flash of your own curse through that helpless and defeated gaze.
You look up at him with a wobbly smile, quickly stitching up the skin you wore so well. You wave it off with your other hand as you bend to pick up the fallen umbrella. Instead of letting you pull away, Suguru gently cradles your much smaller hand in his.
He regards you with a sincere stare, its warm on the edges and as weighty as the words that leave his lips,
“I’ll walk with you this time.”
He pulls you closer to his side. Not a word was said with the way he holds your hand all the way to school. Something ugly awaits him beneath those cracks and fissures of your delicate porcelain armor. Something ugly awaits you beyond his quiet, balanced nature and doomed unseen fate.
Yet there is the blooming and budding of something beautiful coming to life after the rain.
Summers were often looked forward to by youth like your own. Not you, not when you learn how you were prompted to join the first years in their weekend early morning training. The sun is merciless and searing to the skin.
“Oi,” Satoru nudges your leg with his foot as he towers over you, his shadow providing you momentarily relief from the sun, “What’s the number of that mochi place you ordered from before?”
You’re gasping for breath, fighting for your life as you lay on the grass. Yu cheers you on from a distance, still up and running on his fifth lap. Shoko played hooky while Suguru is running drills with Yaga.
“Just,” your mouth is dry, “Use my phone.”
“Name?”
“Domen & Daichi.”
You silently curse Satoru for choosing to gloat and take first seats while watching you make a fool of yourself as he grins and skips over to the bench with everyone’s bags.
“Thanks, loser.”
The white haired prodigy finds it quickly, shivering at the beaded eyes of your cursed doll. He flips it open and clicks through your contacts. He lowers his shades at a particular contact.
Daddy (￣ω￣)
He cocks an interested brow because any normal “dad” would not have such emoji for their contacts. Satoru shoots you a scandalized but mischievous glance. You push yourself off the grass at Nanami’s prompting.
He snickers and decides to call the number.
The phone rings.
No one responds.
But Satoru is insistent to a fault so he calls again. Till he hears faint vibrations amongst the bags, towels, and jackets. He lets out an even more animated expression upon the realization.
It could be coincidence but Satoru is nosey to a fault and pushes and picks the stuff apart to find the glowing device.
He freezes when he plucks Suguru’s phone from his jacket watching your name flashing through the screen.
Satoru swears, rigidly turning on his hips to gape at you and his best friend, wideyed.