The neon pulse of Tokyo's nightlife throbbed around Suguru Geto, but as he navigated the sea of faceless crowds, he felt like a ghost haunting the living.
"Suguru, you've been looking restless lately. Don't push yourself so hard. It's been a while—why don't you take a day off?"
Masamichi Yaga's voice echoed in his mind. Suguru let out a heavy breath, his fingers weaving through his dark hair in a gesture of simmering frustration. Suddenly, he came to a dead stop. He tilted his head toward a narrow, yawning alleyway.
The scent of a Curse.
He turned into the alley, his tall silhouette immediately swallowed by the creeping shadows. As he ventured deeper, the muffled sounds of the city were replaced by a man's harsh barking and a woman's frantic weeping.
"You damn bitch! When are you going to pay me back the money you owe?"
"I'm sorry! Please, just give me one more month! I'll pay it back with interest, I swear!"
"Boss, junkies are full of crap. She's still got a decent face—why don't we just sell her to a brothel and recoup some of the principal that way?"
Clang—
A discarded soda can rattled in the corner. Suguru stepped out of the darkness, his expression a mask of cold indifference as he swept his gaze over the group.
Three men, one woman. A man with a jagged scar across his face held a knife, flanked by two underlings with neon-dyed hair. The woman they cornered was the picture of desperation, her face gaunt and sickly. Suguru's eyes sharpened, noting the needle tracks scarring her arms and the subconscious twitch of her nose.
"Hey! Kid! Who the hell are you?"
The scarred man leveled his blade at Suguru, jerking his chin to signal his lackeys. One of them, a blonde youth, flicked open a butterfly knife with a practiced, arrogant flourish.
"Hand over your wallet, brat! Everything you've got!"
Suguru took a deep, steadying breath, his patience fraying like an old rope. "I suggest you leave immediately. This place is dangerous."
"Ha? You high or something?"
"Maybe he's a rookie cop playing hero?"
"Whoa, Shota! Be polite to the officer!"
They laughed, a chorus of mockery that drowned out the sound of the shadows on the brick wall behind them beginning to writhe and distort.
Suguru's eyes were hollow as he murmured to himself, "Is this what we sorcerers risk our lives for? To protect people like this?"
"Oi! What kind of nonsense are you babbling?" the blonde snapped, stepping forward. "Give us the money, or I'll—"
Shink—
A creature burst from the wall. It was a pale, skinless nightmare with elongated limbs and a face that consisted of nothing but a multi-petaled mouth, blooming like a horrific flower lined with rows of needle-teeth.
In a single, fluid leap, the Curse descended, swallowing the scarred man whole before his scream could even leave his throat.
In the final moments of a violent death, even the "monkeys" could see the supernatural. The two underlings and the drug-addicted woman collapsed, scrambling backward in a frantic, undignified crawl.
"Monster! It's a monster!"
They hadn't managed two steps before the Curse's spindly, razor-sharp claws pinned them to the pavement, puncturing through flesh and bone.
Throughout the entire slaughter, Suguru Geto simply watched.
Protect the weak. That was the fundamental tenet of his soul. But standing there, watching the life drain out of the gutter-dwellers, he felt no spark of heroic intent. No desire to save them.
Once the three had stopped twitching, the Curse turned its sightless head toward Suguru, sensing the massive well of power before it. It let out a guttural, wet roar.
"You're far too loud," Suguru said coldly.
With a casual wave of his hand, a surge of blue spiritual flame erupted across the Grade 1 Curse. In an instant, its physical form crumbled into drifting ash, leaving behind a small, glowing orb of concentrated curse energy floating in the air.
A rift opened in the space behind him, and the pale arm of a controlled Curse reached out, clutching a jar of honey. Suguru reached for the jar, then hesitated, his hand pausing mid-air. He dismissed his summon and looked at the dark, swirling marble in his palm.
After a long moment of silence, he placed it in his mouth and swallowed.
"Gah..."
The familiar taste hit him—the flavor of a rag used to wipe up vomit. Putrid. Revolting.
The summer sun spilled through the windows of the Jujutsu High courtyard. Suguru sat on a wooden bench, his body and mind heavy with fatigue, trying to lose himself in the quiet afternoon.
"Geto-senpai!"
"Oh, it's you, Haibara."
Faced with the unwavering cheer of his junior, Suguru managed a rare, genuine smile. Haibara Yu was loud and simple, but his infectious passion for life was one of the few things that still made Suguru feel like he belonged in the world of the living.
"Want something to drink?"
"I get the honor of Senpai buying me a drink? Then a cola, please!"
Suguru scratched his head, amused. "Don't talk about 'honor.' I'm just a student one year ahead of you."
"That's not true!" Haibara declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "You're a Special Grade at such a young age, part of the 'Strongest Trio.' You're the benchmark for all of us!"
While Haibara respected Souma and Satoru Gojo, he held the highest admiration for Suguru—the man who had reached the pinnacle of the sorcery world despite not coming from a prestigious clan.
"I'm not that great..." Suguru muttered, feeling a pang of guilt.
"By the way, Senpai, I'm headed out on a mission tomorrow. It's quite far!"
"Is that so? Then make sure you bring back some local souvenirs."
Haibara beamed. "What kind of flavors do you like? Salty or sweet?"
Suguru tapped his chin. "Hmm... Souma and Satoru will probably want some too. As for me, I prefer salty things. Just bring back a bit of everything."
"You got it, Senpai!"
"Tell me," Suguru asked softly, "how is the work? Do you find it too difficult? Too exhausting?"
Haibara rested his chin on his hand, thinking it over. "Well... my brain is pretty simple, so I'm not great at overthinking things. But..." He flashed a bright, sunny grin and gave a thumbs-up. "Giving it my all and doing what I can—it feels great!"
As they spoke, a striking woman with long blonde hair and a confident stride appeared from the shadows of the corridor.
"Yo! Long time no see, Suguru! Tell me—what's your type?"
Suguru buried his face in his hand. "Please, don't ask such strange questions on school grounds, Yuki."
Haibara, however, took the question with absolute sincerity. He raised his hand like an eager student. "I like girls who have a big appetite!"
"Uh... Haibara..."
"Yes, Senpai?"
"...Never mind." Suguru sighed, looking at his innocent junior with a mixture of fondness and pity.
"Ah! I forgot I have things to prep! Senpai, I'll take my leave now!" Haibara checked his watch and dashed off with his usual whirlwind energy.
"Hahaha! He's certainly full of life," Yuki Tsukumo noted, watching his retreating back. "Quite a straightforward fellow."
"I think, as sorcerers, we should probably learn to be more suspicious of others," Suguru replied, his voice tinged with weariness. He turned to Yuki. "So, what brings you back to the academy?"
Yuki leaned back, propping her legs up on the bench. "Business, of course. I'm looking for Souma Gojo."
"Business?" Suguru's lip curled in a slight sneer. "Does a Special Grade who refuses to take missions and spends her time loafing around overseas even know the meaning of the word?"
Yuki's expression darkened slightly. "Hey, hey! That's a bit cold, don't you think?"
She slumped into the seat, her persona shifting into a more casual, almost cartoonish pout. "I hate Jujutsu High!"
"Throwing a tantrum, are we?"
"No! I'm serious. I just don't agree with the higher-ups' philosophy. Jujutsu High focuses on treating the symptoms—exorcising Curses as they appear. I'm interested in treating the cause. I want to solve the problem at its root."
"The root?" Suguru looked up, his interest finally piqued. "What does that mean?"
Yuki's gaze grew sharp, her next words cutting through the summer heat. "I don't want to just exorcise Curses like you do. I want to create a world where Curses no longer exist."
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