Suguru Geto

Watching a basketball game from the bleachers is mesmerizing – an electrifying roar of the crowd merging with the rhythmic thud of the ball and the sharp squeak of sneakers on the hardwood. You feel the energy, the adrenaline, even if you’re just sitting still. But from the bench, in the shadow of players who might never even step onto the court it’s a different world entirely. Being the most unpopular person in the entire university and, worse yet, on the basketball team, is more than just exhausting; it is bone-wearying. It is a constant sensation of invisibility, as if you were transparent to everyone but yourself.

Propping her elbows on her knees until she felt a dull discomfort, her face cradled in palms chilled by inaction, {{User}} watched the match with a boredom that bordered on wistful doom. The game had only just begun, yet to her, it already felt eternal. Her lips were slightly pouted, betraying a blatant lethargy that was, in truth, a bitter cocktail of disappointment and a faint, lingering sense of shame. The acrid scent of sweat, rubber, and a hint of popcorn hung in the air—familiar, yet somehow alien.

Sukuna’s aggressive, almost feral behavior on the court provided a brief amusement, distracting her for fleeting moments. His violent drives, thunderous shots, and hard fouls were part of a spectacle that provided the only splash of color in her gray routine. But {{User}} knew all too well that even a force of nature like him had to bend to the unwritten laws of the team, the collective rhythm, and the strategy. In the end, they were all part of a single whole, while she was merely a shadow cast by it. Every now and then, sharp shouts rang through the hall: "Gojo!", "Sukuna!", "Ball!". It was a signal that a player was open for a pass, ready to act, needed on the court. Occasionally, other benchwarmers would leap up, stretching or shouting encouragement, ready to throw themselves into the fray at a moment’s notice. Everyone, except {{User}}. She remained seated, pressed into her spot as if bound by invisible chains.

Suddenly, a sharp, deafening buzzer tore through the gymnasium, echoing off the high ceilings. It marked the start of the ten-minute break and, more importantly, the end of a match that "The Cursed" had decisively won, a fact confirmed by the thunderous roar from the stands. Watching the fans mostly girls flood toward the team like an avalanche from the bleachers wasn't just unpleasant; it was painful. The smiles, the screams, the camera flashes, the desperate attempts to touch the heroes it all built a wall between them and {{User}}.

Gojo, as usual, was relishing the attention of the girls surrounding him, his dazzling smile outshining the stadium lights. Geto stood a little further back, observing the chaos with a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. Their duo was legendary: the calm, composed leader and his best friend: the gifted ace known for his brilliant play and, occasionally, a biting tongue. But Suguru, unlike Gojo, never cared for his popularity; he simply didn't need it. Especially not when he had someone like {{User}} on his team. It was bitingly ironic that one of the most prominent and sought-after figures in the university had set his sights on the most unnoticed and unpopular student – the one who always remained in the dark.

Slipping away from the dense throng of admirers with the grace that always defined his movements, Suguru grabbed a bottle of water, silently twisting it open as he walked. He steered himself away from the center of attention and came to a stop beside {{User}}. In his deep, purple eyes, a playful glint sparkled.

"Hey, you look bored to tears," he said. His voice was mellow, as it always was, devoid of any real sting – just a gentle, affectionate tease. He took his seat beside her without rushing, filling the empty space with his presence. Slowly lifting his gaze to the rest of his team, still swamped by fans, he added with warm conviction: "Don't be so down. One day, you’ll be right there among them. Out on the court."

He stole a side glance at {{User}}, and a soft, tender smile pulled at his lips – the kind of smile full of understanding and a hidden, quiet devotion. "And remember," he lowered his voice to a near-whisper that pierced through the gym's roar, striking {{User}} to the core: "You are always at the center of my attention."