Geto

The temple courtyard had fallen quiet beneath the late-night sky, its ancient stone pathways illuminated by the pale silver glow of the moon. A gentle breeze drifted through the surrounding trees, stirring the hanging branches and carrying the faint scent of incense from the nearby shrine. It was a place Suguru Geto had come to appreciate since abandoning Jujutsu High—a secluded sanctuary far removed from the ordinary world, where he could conduct his affairs without unwanted interruptions. And tonight, he had reserved it for someone particularly important. You.

Despite everything Geto had become, despite the blood on his hands, the countless lives he had taken, and the increasingly radical beliefs that now governed his existence, there was one person he had never considered abandoning. You were his boyfriend, his closest companion, and perhaps the only person who could still reach the parts of him he rarely allowed anyone else to see. His affection for you had never diminished with his descent into villainy. If anything, it had become more pronounced. Geto was a possessive man when it came to the things he treasured, and he considered your relationship one of the very few things in his life that remained genuinely precious. The world could despise him, curse his name, and hunt him down, but none of that changed how he felt about you. He had even gone out of his way to dress specially for your evening together. Rather than his usual dark robes, Geto had chosen an elegant, floor-length black silk dress with a distinctly dramatic silhouette. The fabric was luxurious and fluid, catching the moonlight with a subtle sheen as it draped over his figure. Its fitted upper portion accentuated his waist before flowing into a fuller skirt that followed the curves of his hips. A high slit along one side revealed glimpses of his pale thigh whenever he shifted his weight or moved, adding an almost regal theatricality to the ensemble. The long sleeves and modest neckline contrasted beautifully with the garment’s striking silhouette. His long, exceptionally dark hair was gathered into his familiar half-up style, with the remaining strands cascading down his back. A few loose locks framed his face, emphasizing his narrow, elegant features, while his long earlobes and understated accessories completed the look. Even dressed so unusually, he carried himself with the same effortless composure and quiet authority that had always characterized him.

Geto stood beneath the wooden overhang of the temple, one hand resting loosely against his waist. His expression was initially contemplative, his dark eyes wandering toward the entrance every so often. He had been waiting for you. Not that he would ever admit to being impatient. A faint sound eventually caught his attention. His gaze shifted toward the courtyard entrance, and the moment he recognized your familiar figure approaching, his expression changed. The sternness around his eyes softened. The faintest smile appeared on his lips, and he straightened slightly, his attention settling entirely upon you. “There you are.” His voice was smooth and pleasantly low, carrying easily through the otherwise silent courtyard. “You’ve kept me waiting, my love.” There was no genuine irritation in his words. If anything, there was unmistakable fondness beneath his teasing reprimand. He stepped away from the overhang, the silk of his dress shifting gracefully around his legs as he approached. “Although, I suppose I shouldn’t complain. I’ve been rather occupied myself.” He briefly glanced down at his outfit before looking back at you, his smile becoming a little more playful. “Well? What do you think?” Geto turned slightly, allowing the fabric to cling naturally around his figure. “I thought I’d wear something different tonight. Even someone like me is entitled to indulge in a little vanity every now and then, wouldn’t you agree?” A quiet chuckle escaped him. He eventually closed the remaining distance between you, reaching out to gently straighten a detail of your clothing before letting his hand settle affectionately against you. “Honestly, I’ve missed you.” The admission came more quietly this time. His expression was still composed, but the warmth in his eyes was genuine. His thumb moved in a small, absentminded gesture as he regarded you. “There’s been an endless stream of responsibilities lately. Meetings, preparations, troublesome people who seem incapable of understanding even the simplest instructions…” He sighed, almost theatrically. “It’s exhausting.”

His attention returned to you. “But enough about that. I didn’t invite you here to listen to me complain.” He leaned closer, his voice lowering into something more intimate. “Tonight belongs to us. No followers, no interruptions, no discussions about curses or the future of this wretched world.” For a moment, the infamous leader of the curse users seemed perfectly content to forget about his ambitions. He gently took your hand, bringing it toward himself as his dark eyes remained fixed on yours. “Come. I’ve arranged dinner for us inside. I even made certain they prepared your favorites.” His smile returned, softer and more sincere. “After all, I may have abandoned my former life, but I haven’t forgotten how to take care of the person I love.” And with that, Suguru Geto guided you toward the temple’s warmly illuminated interior, looking considerably more pleased than he would ever care to admit.

The Shibuya Incident had erupted with horrifying precision. A carefully orchestrated chaos, unleashed by Kenjaku using his cursed manipulations, trapped civilians, sorcerers, and curses alike in a sprawling battlefield of fire, smoke, and destruction. Streets were blocked with barriers, civilians panicked, and curses prowled like predators over a city gripped in fear. The world of sorcery itself felt unhinged, bending under the strain of the mass-scale assault. In the midst of this engineered apocalypse, the subway station had become a vital refuge—a place where countless civilians sought shelter from the horrors above. You and Gojo had plunged into the tunnels, moving with purpose and precision. Gojo’s energy was taut, controlled, but the strain of defending the unprepared masses and containing cursed threats pressed heavily on both of you. Every corner held danger, every shadow the possibility of more chaos.

“You’re holding up alright?” Gojo’s voice rang through the smoke, calm yet playful as ever, his trademark grin softening the tension in the dim light. His blindfold glinted faintly under the flickering emergency lights. “Good. Keep moving—there’s still more people to get out.” You nodded silently, muscles screaming in protest, lungs burning from exertion, but the mission couldn’t wait. Hours of running, guiding civilians, and fending off cursed attacks had left your body trembling and exhausted. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last group of survivors had been ushered to safety. You leaned against the cool, cracked wall of the subway station, sweat and dust coating your hair and skin, chest heaving, trying to recover even a fraction of your strength. Gojo, unusually silent for once, gave you a small, approving nod. And then…the air shifted. It was subtle at first—a presence that didn’t belong to the chaos, to the curses, or to the frantic energy of the subway. But it grew, tangible and undeniable, like the calm before a storm. You felt it before you saw it. Geto. The moment your eyes met his, your exhaustion and the weight of the incident blurred into a new, more intense reality. He stood there, still, ethereal in places, yet entirely recognizable. Shock flashed across his features, mirrored by the same in your own, if only for a heartbeat. He knew you—truly knew you—and seeing you alive here, amid the carnage, rooted him in place. “You…” His voice trembled, low and deliberate, carrying across the subway tiles. “It can’t be…you’re…here.”

Every step he takes is slow, deliberate, careful. Not a threat. Not a curse. Just him. His eyes roam over the dust and sweat on your skin, the exhaustion in your posture, the faint tremor of your muscles, and his chest tightens with something between relief and longing. “I…I missed you,” he admits, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “I never stopped…not really. Not for a single moment. Even when the world changed, even when I—” he falters slightly, remembering the plans he once had, the darkness he embraced, “I thought I had to do what I did…you were always here. In my mind. In my soul.” Geto’s gaze narrows with a mixture of awe and desire, lingering on your features as if committing every detail to memory. He takes a cautious step closer, the warmth of his presence brushing the air around you, grounding the chaos of the subway in a single, intimate moment. “I loved you then, I love you now,” he whispers, voice low but certain, carrying the weight of truth and confession. “Not the past me entirely, not the man I used to be. But this part of me—this soul, what remains—has always remembered you. Has always…loved you.” A faint smile tugs at his lips, soft, almost shy, but undeniably flirty, as if he’s teasing you with the intensity of his affection even in the shadow of destruction. The soft glow of the emergency lights catches in his eyes, making them shine like they always did, but deeper now—warmer, more intimate. He steps closer, hovering just at the edge of your exhausted frame, deliberate but tender. The chaos of Shibuya, the screams, the smoke, and the rubble fall away, muted and distant. All that remains is him, and the undeniable magnetic pull of recognition, longing, and love. “I…wanted to see you again,” he says softly, leaning just slightly closer. “To make sure…that despite everything…you’re still here. That you’re still…mine. Even if the world wants to tear itself apart around us, even if fate wants to take us away…I will always find you. Always.” The moment stretches in the flickering neon glow of the subway, suspended between the wreckage of the city above and the quiet intimacy below. Geto lingers, every movement deliberate, eyes locked on yours, presence warm, full of affection, longing, and undeniable devotion. The Shibuya Incident rages around you both, but here, in this small space, there is only him, only his love, and the quiet certainty that some connections cannot be broken—not even by curses, chaos, or time itself.

The past few days had been unusually uncomfortable within Geto’s temple. You had always been by Suguru’s side. Long before his declaration of war against Jujutsu High, you had been one of the few people he trusted completely. Even after abandoning his former life as a sorcerer, you had remained with him, becoming an important part of his organization. His followers knew exactly who you were. You weren’t simply another member of the group or someone who happened to share his living quarters. You were Geto’s boyfriend, his most treasured companion, and arguably the only person who could approach him without needing to announce themselves first. Your position within the organization was somewhat unusual. Although you weren’t necessarily responsible for commanding his followers, you often helped them understand Geto’s intentions. His speeches could sometimes become rather philosophical, particularly when discussing the future of jujutsu society, and not everyone immediately understood his reasoning. You had developed a habit of explaining his plans in simpler terms, clarifying instructions, and helping the others understand what Geto expected of them. He appreciated that about you.

In fact, Geto had occasionally joked that you were his unofficial interpreter. However, something had recently begun to bother him. It started with one particular female follower. She was attractive, sociable, and seemingly very comfortable around you. Initially, Geto thought little of it. His followers interacted with one another constantly, and he had never been particularly concerned about you having friends within the organization. But then he started noticing things. Whenever you were in the courtyard, she seemed to find some reason to approach you. Whenever you were explaining something to the other followers, she would position herself beside you, sometimes standing considerably closer than necessary. She laughed at your jokes, sought your attention, and frequently found excuses to accompany you around the temple. And Geto noticed every single time. He never openly interrupted your conversations. He would simply watch from a distance, his expression remaining perfectly composed while his dark eyes followed the two of you. He trusted you. That was something he repeatedly reminded himself. You were his boyfriend, after all. You had stayed beside him when practically everyone else had turned against him. He knew how much you loved him, and he had no genuine reason to believe you would betray him. Still, the woman’s increasingly familiar behavior irritated him. What bothered him most wasn’t necessarily that she spoke to you. It was how comfortable she seemed becoming around someone Geto considered his most precious person. And, perhaps more frustratingly, how little she seemed to care that you already belonged to someone. He began withdrawing without consciously admitting why.

The affectionate greetings became less frequent. His usual habit of seeking you out after meetings gradually disappeared. When you sat together during dinner, he occasionally became distracted, offering short responses rather than engaging in conversation. Even his nighttime routine changed. The goodnight kisses stopped. The familiar warmth of his arm around your waist was noticeably absent, and some evenings he remained awake long after you had settled into bed. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling jealous. Geto was a man who believed himself to be above petty emotional disputes. He had commanded an entire organization, challenged the strongest sorcerers alive, and committed himself to an ambition that would reshape the world. Yet here he was, finding himself increasingly irritated by the sight of another woman standing beside his boyfriend. It was almost embarrassing. But he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. Later that night — in Geto’s private quarters…the temple had finally settled for the evening. Most of the followers had retired to their respective rooms, while the remaining attendants quietly finished their responsibilities. The corridors were dimly illuminated by traditional lamps, and the occasional sound of footsteps echoed through the otherwise peaceful building. You had spent much of the evening helping several followers understand the arrangements for the upcoming Night Parade. As usual, the same woman had been among them, staying behind to speak with you even after everyone else had finished. Eventually, you made your way toward your shared bedroom. The sliding door opened with a quiet sound. Inside, the room was dim, illuminated by a single lamp positioned near the wooden furnishings. The familiar scent of incense lingered in the air. Suguru Geto was already there. He sat in an armchair beside the window, dressed in his usual dark robes. His long black hair was gathered into its familiar half-up bun, while the remaining strands rested against his back. One leg was crossed over the other, and his fingers rested thoughtfully against his cheek.

He wasn’t reading, meditating, or looking over the organization’s plans. He was waiting for you. His dark eyes lifted when you entered. “Ah. There you are.” His voice was perfectly calm. A little too calm. He watched as you entered the room, his expression revealing very little. Ordinarily, he would have greeted you with a smile, perhaps even reached for your hand or invited you to sit beside him. Tonight, he did neither. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. “Did you have a pleasant evening?” There was something peculiar about the question. He allowed a moment of silence before continuing. “I noticed you were rather occupied earlier. You and a certain someone seemed to have quite a lot to discuss.” His lips formed a faint smile, although there was very little warmth behind it. “She’s certainly become fond of you, hasn’t she?” Geto uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his forearms against his thighs. “I’ve noticed she’s practically attached herself to you these past few days. Wherever you happen to be, there she is. Always smiling, always finding something to discuss.” He paused, briefly lowering his gaze. “How fortunate for her.” A quiet, humorless chuckle escaped him. “Perhaps I should start assigning her to your duties permanently. It seems she’s discovered a rather effective way of securing your attention.” He finally looked directly at you. “Tell me, darling…” His voice softened, though his expression remained serious. “Is there something between you two that I ought to know about?” For a moment, he simply studied your face, seemingly searching for some indication of what you were thinking. Then he leaned back into his chair. “Because I’d rather hear the truth from you than spend another evening watching the two of you behave like an inseparable little pair.” His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest. “I trust you. I want you to understand that.” He looked toward the window. “But I would be lying if I said I enjoyed watching another woman become so comfortable around my boyfriend.” His gaze returned to you, and the faintest trace of vulnerability slipped through his otherwise controlled expression. “Have I been neglecting you, my love?” The question came unexpectedly. He looked down at his hands for a moment before continuing. “Perhaps I’ve been too occupied with the organization lately. The Night Parade has demanded considerably more of my attention than anticipated.” A pause. “Still, that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He gestured toward the space beside him. “Come sit with me.” His expression softened just slightly. “I believe you and I have some things to discuss.”

The atmosphere inside the temple was unusually lively that evening. Earlier that day, Suguru Geto had made his intentions perfectly clear. His declaration of war against Jujutsu High and the rest of the jujutsu world had sent shockwaves throughout the sorcerer community. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons was no longer merely an idea or distant ambition. It was happening, and Geto had no intention of backing down. You had been beside him when he made his announcement, standing among his followers as he openly challenged the very institution he had once belonged to. His composure never faltered, even when discussing the people who would inevitably come after him. To Suguru, the outcome was already decided. Later, after taking Mimiko and Nanako out to buy some mochi, Geto finally returned to his private quarters within the temple. The twins had been particularly enthusiastic about their sweets, and he had indulged them before sending them off to enjoy the rest of their evening. Now, he finally had some time alone with you.

His private quarters were spacious but tastefully decorated, with traditional wooden furnishings, sliding paper doors, and a few carefully arranged ornaments. The warm illumination of the lamps contrasted with the darkness outside, creating a peaceful atmosphere far removed from the conflict Geto had set into motion. Suguru had changed into a comfortable black kimono, its collar sitting loosely around his neck. His long black hair was tied into its familiar half-up style, with several strands falling around his face. He was seated beside you, seemingly in no particular hurry to do anything else that evening. One arm rested comfortably around your waist while his other hand occasionally brushed against your hair. Every so often, he leaned over to leave a lingering kiss against your cheek or lips, seemingly quite pleased to have your undivided company. “Mm. It’s nice having you all to myself again.” He murmured between kisses, his expression carrying that familiar, almost mischievous smile. “You have no idea how tiresome today has been. Between announcing the Night Parade, dealing with my followers, and entertaining the twins, I’ve hardly had a moment to myself.” He pressed another affectionate kiss against your lips, lingering for a little longer this time before pulling away. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Everything is proceeding rather nicely.” His fingers gently traced your cheek. “Jujutsu High will undoubtedly be scrambling to prepare. They’ll gather their strongest sorcerers, devise their little strategies, and convince themselves they have some chance of stopping me.” He chuckled quietly. “How predictable.”

Suguru leaned forward, capturing your lips again. This time, however, the kiss lasted considerably longer. His hand settled against the back of your head as he drew you closer, his usual composed demeanor giving way to something considerably more affectionate. When he eventually pulled away, he remained close, his forehead nearly touching yours. “…Darling?” Something had caught his attention. You seemed distracted. Although you had been returning his affection, your attention appeared to be somewhere else entirely. Geto initially assumed you were simply tired, perhaps overwhelmed by everything that had happened earlier. But after observing you for another moment, his expression became slightly more curious. He tilted his head. “Is something bothering you?” His thumb gently brushed your cheek. “Or are you simply thinking about something?” He studied your expression, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly in playful suspicion. “Don’t tell me you’re already worrying about the Night Parade. I assure you, I’ve accounted for practically every possibility.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Although, judging by that expression, I suspect there’s something else occupying your thoughts.” He leaned in and stole another brief kiss before settling back against the cushions, keeping his arm comfortably around you. “Come now, my love. You know you can tell me anything.” His smile softened. “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”