Suguru Geto || ★

You and Suguru?

Once, you had been the kind of couple people looked at and quietly assumed would last forever.

Not because you were constantly displaying your relationship in front of everyone.

Neither of you were particularly interested in making your private life a spectacle.

But there was something about the two of you that had always seemed natural.

Easy.

As though, somehow, finding each other had simply made sense.

You had held onto Suguru's love with everything you had.

And Suguru, at least back then, had given you plenty of reasons to believe that you would never have to let go.

He was popular.

In some ways, almost as popular as Satoru.

Perhaps even more approachable.

While Satoru naturally attracted attention wherever he went, Suguru possessed something quieter. There was a calm confidence about him that made people gravitate toward him without quite realizing it.

He was handsome in a way that stood out even among the standards people admired in Japan. Tall, composed, intelligent, with long dark hair and an expression that always seemed to carry a certain calmness behind it.

But his appearance was never the only reason people liked him.

Suguru was polite.

He was attentive.

He knew how to make people feel heard.

And at Tokyo Jujutsu High, his reputation was even greater.

He was one of the strongest students.

Not stronger than Satoru, of course. Everyone knew that.

But Suguru had never needed to be stronger than Satoru to be extraordinary.

He was powerful.

Respected.

Reliable.

And, to you, he was perhaps the kindest person you had ever known.

You remembered how carefully he used to treat you.

It was never exaggerated.

Never suffocating.

Suguru simply paid attention.

He would ask how you were feeling.

Whether you were comfortable.

Whether something was bothering you.

Whether there was anything you needed.

Sometimes he would ask while standing behind you, one arm loosely around your waist as his fingers moved absent-mindedly against your side.

Other times, he would lean closer and press a slow kiss against your cheek before asking again.

"You've been quiet today."

You would look at him.

"I'm fine."

Suguru would raise an eyebrow.

"That answer usually means the opposite."

And before you could argue, he would smile.

That small smile.

The one you had once thought you would recognize for the rest of your life.

You remembered his scent, too.

The subtle smell of his cologne whenever he leaned close.

The warmth of his clothes after he had returned from training.

The flowers.

You would never forget the flowers.

They appeared unexpectedly.

Sometimes placed beside your things.

Sometimes waiting on your desk.

Sometimes handed to you with an almost casual expression, as though Suguru had not spent the entire walk thinking about whether you would like them.

He picked them himself.

Not expensive bouquets.

Not something bought because he believed a relationship required gifts.

Flowers he had noticed and thought of you when he saw them.

That was Suguru.

At least, that was the Suguru you had known.

And perhaps that was why everything that came afterward hurt so much.

---

That mission changed everything.

You barely knew what had happened.

You knew enough to understand that something had gone wrong.

But you had not been there.

You had not seen what Suguru had seen.

You had not heard what he had heard.

And when he returned, he did not explain it.

He simply looked at you.

And immediately, you knew.

Something was wrong.

Not something small.

Not exhaustion.

Not the usual emotional weight that followed a difficult mission.

Something deeper.

You knew Suguru too well.

His expression had always been controlled, but you had learned to notice the things other people missed.

The slight tension around his eyes.

The way his attention seemed to drift away from the conversation.

The moments when he stared at nothing.

The silence that lasted too long.

The way he stopped looking fully present.

Even Satoru eventually came looking for you.

That alone frightened you.

Satoru was not someone who openly admitted concern easily.

Not in the way people expected, at least.

He covered it with jokes.

Sarcasm.

Annoyance.

But when he came to find you, his expression was different.

"Have you noticed anything?"

You looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Suguru."

Your stomach tightened.

Satoru's expression became unusually serious.

"He's losing weight."

You already knew.

Of course you knew.

You had seen it.

You had tried to ask.

Again.

And again.

But Suguru always avoided the subject.

You would sit beside him and ask how he was.

He would stare at the distance.

You would ask what he was thinking about.

Silence.

You would ask whether something had happened.

His eyes would briefly shift toward you.

Then away again.

"Nothing."

And somehow, that single word hurt more every time.

The flowers stopped coming.

Physical affection slowly disappeared.

The person who once instinctively reached for your hand began keeping distance between the two of you.

At first, you tried not to take it personally.

Then you began wondering if you should.

Had you done something wrong?

Did Suguru still love you?

Was he angry?

You asked yourself those questions while ignoring the more frightening possibility.

That the person you loved was simply falling apart.

---

Everything finally collapsed when you heard what had happened to Suguru's parents.

You refused to believe it.

For hours, perhaps longer than you wanted to admit, you convinced yourself there had been a misunderstanding.

There had to be.

This was Suguru.

You remembered seeing him only a week before.

You remembered standing beside him while he was visibly unwell.

You remembered taking care of him.

Staying with him.

Trying to convince him to eat.

Watching him struggle with the physical consequences of everything he had been forcing himself through.

You remembered sitting beside him when he could barely keep food down.

You remembered gently moving his hair away from his face.

Pressing a kiss against his forehead.

Trying to remind him that he did not have to carry everything alone.

And now you were supposed to believe that Suguru had done something you could barely bring yourself to think about.

That he had left.

That he was gone.

That he was no longer the person you had known.

You could not understand it.

Perhaps part of you refused to.

---

Eventually, the academy made a decision.

You were not allowed to be directly involved in Suguru's case.

They believed it would affect you too deeply.

That you were emotionally compromised.

That the situation was already far too painful for you to be expected to confront him directly.

And perhaps they were right.

Because every time you imagined seeing Suguru again, you did not know what you would do.

Would you ask him why?

Would you demand an explanation?

Would you cry?

Would you beg him to come back?

Or would you simply stand there, unable to reconcile the person in front of you with the person you had once loved?

You never found out.

Not then.

---

Two years passed.

Two years.

An amount of time that somehow felt impossibly long and yet passed without truly changing anything inside you.

You continued living.

You remained at the academy.

You moved into a small house.

You trained.

You completed missions.

You tried to create something resembling a normal life.

But Suguru's absence followed you.

Not constantly.

Not every second.

You learned how to laugh again.

How to speak without your voice breaking.

How to spend an entire day without thinking about him.

But then someone mentioned his name.

Or you saw a familiar hairstyle in the distance.

Or you passed a place the two of you had once visited.

And suddenly, two years felt like nothing.

You had seen him once.

Only once.

When Satoru and Shoko encountered him in Shibuya.

The moment you heard, you ran.

You did not think.

You did not hesitate.

You simply ran.

"Suguru!"

Your voice echoed across the street.

You remembered seeing him turn.

For one second.

One single second.

Your heart had stopped.

Because there he was.

Alive.

Standing right in front of you.

Older.

Different.

And still unmistakably Suguru.

You ran toward him.

"Suguru, wait!"

You wanted an explanation.

You wanted him to say something.

Anything.

You wanted him to take you with him.

You wanted to believe that if you could simply reach him, if you could simply speak to him properly, then perhaps there was still something left between you.

But Suguru looked at you.

And then looked away.

He ignored you.

And left.

You remembered standing there afterward.

Unable to move.

That had hurt more than you expected.

Not because you had believed he would immediately return.

But because, somewhere deep inside, you had hoped that seeing you would matter enough to make him stop.

---

After that, the academy became increasingly careful with you.

Suguru continued appearing in places connected to sorcerers.

His name appeared too often.

Rumours.

Reports.

Sightings.

His group.

His followers.

And every time the possibility of encountering him became too great, the people around you became concerned.

Sometimes you were sent home.

Sometimes someone else was assigned in your place.

They told you that they did not want you to relapse emotionally.

That they did not want you to fall apart again.

You hated it.

You hated being treated as though you were fragile.

But perhaps the truth was that Suguru had already broken something inside you years ago.

And everyone around you was terrified that seeing him again would make it worse.

---

It was raining when it happened.

Heavy rain.

The kind that struck against the windows loudly enough to make the entire house feel colder.

Wind moved against the glass.

You were standing near the window, watching the rain fall into the darkness outside.

Then there was a knock.

You frowned.

It was late.

Far too late for anyone to visit.

For a moment, you assumed it was Satoru.

He still came by sometimes.

Sometimes to talk.

Sometimes to sit in silence.

Sometimes you wondered whether he did it because he felt sorry for you.

Other times, you wondered whether he simply needed someone who understood that his own grief had never disappeared either.

Whatever the reason, Satoru occasionally appeared without warning.

So you expected to see him.

You walked toward the door.

Unlocked it.

Opened it.

And froze.

The world seemed to stop.

There, standing in the rain, was Suguru.

For several seconds, you could not breathe.

His hair was longer now.

Loose around his shoulders, with part of it gathered back into a bun.

He wore unfamiliar robes.

His appearance had changed.

He looked older.

Taller somehow.

Sharper.

But his face—

You would have recognized his face anywhere.

Suguru looked at you.

And something in his expression changed.

Relief.

Brief.

Almost impossible to notice.

But you saw it.

You had always been able to see through him.

Then your eyes dropped.

His hand was pressed firmly against his abdomen.

Blood slowly escaped between his fingers.

Your breath caught.

Two small girls stood beside him.

Both looked frightened.

They could not have been much older than nine or ten.

They clung to Suguru's robes as though letting go would cause something terrible to happen.

One of them was crying.

The other stared at you with obvious fear.

And Suguru—

Suguru smiled.

As though he had not disappeared from your life two years ago.

As though he had not walked away from you in Shibuya.

As though everything between you could somehow be ignored simply because he was standing at your door.

"Long time no see."

Your expression did not change.

Suguru tilted his head slightly.

Then his eyebrows drew together.

The movement was subtle.

But pain crossed his face.

His hand pressed more firmly against his abdomen.

The two girls immediately reacted.

They clung more tightly to him.

One of them began crying harder.

You finally found your voice.

"Suguru."

Hearing his name leave your mouth made something inside his expression falter.

Only for a second.

But it did.

He had expected anger.

Perhaps shouting.

Perhaps the door closing in his face.

He had not expected you to say his name like that.

The girls looked between you.

Uncertain.

Suguru slowly exhaled.

"Nanako. Mimiko."

His voice was calm.

Gentle.

Completely different from the tension visible in his body.

"Don't worry."

The girls continued staring at you.

Their fear was obvious.

Suguru glanced toward you again.

For the first time since arriving, his composure weakened slightly.

"This is..."

He stopped.

The pause was almost invisible.

But to you, it was deafening.

What were you supposed to be now?

Someone he had loved?

Someone he had abandoned?

Someone from another life?

Suguru's eyes remained fixed on yours.

Then he forced the faintest smile.

"Someone I trust."

Your chest tightened.

Suguru looked toward the girls.

"They'll help us."

The girls hesitated.

Still afraid.

Suguru's hand trembled slightly against his abdomen.

His voice remained calm.

"Right?"

He looked at you again.

And for the first time, you saw something beneath the confidence.

Not arrogance.

Not manipulation.

Not the calm certainty Suguru had built around himself over the past two years.

Uncertainty.

His eyes weakened when they met yours.

Because despite everything that had happened, despite two years of silence and everything he had done, Suguru had come here.

To your door.

Injured.

With two frightened children at his side.

And somehow, impossibly, he had trusted you to help him.

The rain continued falling behind him.

Nanako and Mimiko clung tighter to his robes.

Suguru's fingers trembled.

Blood continued to slowly stain the fabric beneath his hand.

And you stood completely still.

Because after two years of trying to convince yourself that you would know exactly what to do if you ever saw Suguru again—

You realized you had absolutely no idea what to do now.

He had come back.

Not because you had found him.

Not because Satoru had brought him.

Not because the academy had ordered him to.

He had come to you.

And the person standing in front of you looked nothing like the Suguru who used to leave flowers on your desk.

And yet, beneath the longer hair, the unfamiliar robes, the blood, the exhaustion, and everything that had happened between you—

For one brief, devastating moment—

You could still see him.

The person you had spent two years trying to forget.

And the person you had never truly stopped waiting for.