Chapter Text
Geto Suguru was not someone who made mistakes often.
He reads every word on the mission briefing documents, does his own research into the location and surrounding areas, dives into their history, traditions, and culture to make sure he is always prepared for whatever cursed spirit or object might be awaiting him.
But plans don’t always go the way you want them to.
He ties his uniform jacket around his arm to staunch the bleeding, but the gash going from his shoulder to elbow isn’t his only injury. Using his other arm, he swipes the blood out of his eyes, but he knows it’s only a momentary relief as he feels more trickling down his forehead. His cursed spirits are still holding on, keeping the enemy spirit distracted as he catches his breath. Miraculously, his phone had been unscathed and he’d been able to call for help, but he doesn’t know when it will arrive.
Just stay awake. Just stay awake. If he loses consciousness, then his cursed spirits will disappear too, and he’ll be dead in seconds. Just stay awake.
He inhales deeply, but the exhale is interrupted by a blue sphere that streaks across the sky from behind him, crashing into the cursed spirit and crushing it.
“O~kay, that’s done. You lost to a low grade cursed spirit like that?”
Geto doesn’t need to turn around to know who that voice belongs to. There’s only one teenager in this world who would call a semi grade 1 spirit “low grade”.
“There’s a curse user—”
“Already taken care of. You’re really beat up, Geto. The assistant manager’ll be here soon, so I’m taking off.” I’m not doing anything outside the scope of the mission, is what he means. When they’d first met, Gojo had brushed off his classmates with a curt “being a sorcerer is a solitary endeavour”, and from then on had never engaged with them beyond what was necessary, so this doesn’t surprise Geto in the slightest. Not that it doesn’t piss him off, but this is who Gojo Satoru is.
He was born to wield jujutsu, and so jujutsu he shall wield. Nothing more, nothing less. To any sorcerer, the name “Gojo Satoru”, even at his young age, was synonymous with the pinnacle of sorcery. He lived and breathed jujutsu, and no one knew anything about him outside of it.
As a sorcerer, Geto accepted that reality, but as Gojo’s classmate, as one young boy looking at another, he couldn’t help but wonder who Gojo Satoru was when the curtain of jujutsu was torn away.