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Before swallowing Sukuna’s finger, Yuji Itadori had been nothing more than an ordinary high school student. As for everything concerning the jujutsu world, its past, present, and future, Yuji had learned nearly all of it through last-minute cramming.
His tutors came from every walk of life, even including a panda. The content of these lessons was equally eclectic, even encompassing gossip that had circulated at Jujutsu High for over a decade.
“It’s real.”
“It’s not real.”
“I’m telling you, it is.”
“What’s not real?”
Yuji sat cross-legged on the desk, sipping juice. Megumi Fushiguro sat in the chair before him, holding a rabbit. Panda raised one finger, solemn, deliberate.
“Satoru Gojo and that person—it’s real.”
That person. So vague. So obscure. Like the ultimate antagonist in a magical world, the kind whose name no one dares utter.
But Yuji didn’t make that connection, nor did he grasp the implication in Panda’s tone. He simply, as a first-year at Jujutsu High, asked a straightforward question.
“Who is that person?”
Panda froze for a moment. Maki Zen’in let out a small scoff. Toge Inumaki buried his face in his collar. Megumi tugged at the rabbit’s ears. Yuji stared on with his innocent and curious, large eyes.
“He is—”
“Itadori, Fushiguro, sensei’s looking for you.”
Nobara Kugisaki leaned halfway into the room from the doorway, a popsicle in her mouth. “Mission in Harajuku, you guys coming?”
She looked up and caught sight of Maki. Her grin widened.
“Senpai, want me to bring you anything?”
Maki shook her head. “Nothing in particular.”
“I wanna go, I wanna go!”
He’d died too quickly last time to enjoy Tokyo properly. Yuji sprang to his feet.
Megumi stood up.
“Then we’re off.”
“Then we’re off!”
Yuji, all smiles, tugged Megumi out of the classroom, then turned back after a moment and called out to the second-years.
“Panda-senpai, who that person is—don’t forget to tell me next time!”
Once the first-years had disappeared, Maki smacked Panda on the head.
“Are you brain-dead.”
She cast him a glance.
Panda looked aggrieved. “I… just happened to mention it.”
Toge walked over to the window. Nobara led the way below. Megumi and Yuji followed behind. The two boys were close, shoulder to shoulder, muttering who knows what.
“Ah, youth,” Panda murmured, ambling over.
“I almost miss the days when I was a panda cub.”
Maki stood behind them, gazing down at the three below. Suddenly, she elbowed Panda in the back.
“So, you really saw that person when you were little?”
The ultimate antagonist of the magical world. A vague and elusive figure.
Panda scratched his cheek with a long claw. “Yeah?”
“Though a lot of the memories are hazy now, I’ve definitely… met him, probably.”
The second-years all fell silent. Suddenly, Panda spoke again.
“He was great with cubs, that person.”
Something came to mind. Panda gave a short exclamation.
“Now that I think of it, there’s something…”
-
The first-year trio completed their mission before 4 p.m., just in time to visit a newly opened and popular dessert shop in Omotesando for ice cream. Yuji's was strawberry, Nobara’s was a melon-mango blend, and Megumi, under their coaxing, purchased an Oreo cream flavour. The ice cream was charmingly decorated, each topped with colour-matching Pocky sticks. The three stood in a row by the roadside eating their cones. Yuji leaned toward Megumi to exchange toppings, then suddenly turned to him and blinked.
“So what exactly is real?”
he asked.
Megumi looked back at him.
“What do you mean, what’s real?”
Nobara glanced over.
“Meal? Where is there a meal? What’re we having for our meal?”
Yuji quickly waved his hands.
“I mean what Panda-senpai said today, about Gojo-sensei and that person being real. What’s real?”
Megumi paused, then realised.
“So not only don’t you know who ‘that person’ refers to, you didn’t even grasp the meaning of the sentence at all.”
Yuji nodded without shame.
“Then… can you try to make sense of it?”
Megumi looked at him earnestly. He felt that the sentence, taken literally, wasn’t difficult to understand.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t explain it to Yuji, but a faint, complicated sense of guilt kept him from doing so in the moment.
“It’s like, quite simple.”
If it’s truly beyond—
“Oh!”
Yuji clapped his fist into his palm.
“It’s that, right? That!”
“What little secret are you boys talking about?”
Nobara asked.
“What about Gojo-sensei?”
“Kugisaki, let me tell you—”
Before anyone could stop him, Yuji had already spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube.
Megumi had a splitting headache.
So this is how it goes, isn’t it. Human nature is gossip, gossip is essentially nonsense, and stories propagate at lightning speed, passed down through generations. In less than three minutes, Megumi watched helplessly as Panda’s remark to Yuji had made its way to Nobara. The original “Satoru Gojo and that person—it’s real” had already morphed into “Gojo-sensei and a mysterious beauty shared a romantic history too illicit for high school students to imagine.”
“So scandalous!”
Nobara applauded with enthusiasm.
Yuji looked at Megumi with pride. “Am I right or am I right?”
There was much that was inaccurate, but not entirely so. He wanted to refute it but had no idea where to begin. Yet to remain silent was equally intolerable.
Megumi instinctively attempted to offer clarification, but heaven knew what there was to clarify.
He hadn’t even composed the first sentence when Yuji had already quieted down.
He stared at Megumi's face for a moment, then smiled and threw an arm around his shoulders.
“Come on, it’s not that important anyway, right?”
There it was. Yuji’s brand of thoughtfulness. He had perceived Megumi's unease and, despite his curiosity, had deftly shifted the topic.
“Let’s go buy groceries afterwards. How about sukiyaki for dinner, all of us together?”
-
In the end, “everyone” included not only the students but also a freshly-returned-from-his-business-trip Gojo, and a Shoko Ieiri who had just given the freshly-returned-from-his-business-trip Gojo a check-up.
Everyone sat in a circle. The atmosphere was convivial.
Once their stomachs were full to the point of distention, Yuji and Nobara grew restless again. They glanced at Gojo, glanced at each other, then glanced once more at Gojo.
“Gojo-sensei,”
Nobara suddenly spoke, “so when did you two break up?”
The entire room fell silent.
Panda looked mortified. Toge said nothing. Maki firmly pressed Nobara’s head down.
Shoko’s hand froze mid-light.
Megumi, returning from the kitchen with a plate of fruit, visibly slowed his steps.
“…Heh?”
Gojo shoved a mochi into his mouth and responded with muffled confusion.
Yuji raised his hand earnestly. “We heard… we heard that Gojo-sensei had a girlfriend. And with her—” he applied a term Panda had taught him earlier that day, “it was real.”
“Very real,”
Nobara echoed.
“Ha—hahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Shoko suddenly burst into laughter. The school doctor, usually wearing an expression of world-weariness, collapsed onto the table, laughing so hard the tips of her ears and the length of her neck flushed red. She pounded Gojo's shoulder with force.
In broken fits, she replied to Yuji and Nobara, “I can vouch for that. It was definitely real.”
She gave Gojo a glance. “Right, Satoru?”
“Yeah,”
Gojo answered.
He leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“We were the realest.”
Surprisingly, the adults didn’t brush them off. Whether emboldened by Gojo’s unabashed reply or by Shoko’s vocal support, Yuji and Nobara’s eyes lit up with renewed resolve. They were now determined to pry open Gojo’s romantic history, bombarding him with questions one after another.
“So was she one of those gorgeous older women like Jennifer Lawrence?”
“Well—”
“So she was a jujutsu sorcerer too?”
“Used to be, I suppose—”
“What kind of personality did she have? Gojo-sensei, you seem like you’d be into those high-heeled, no-nonsense types!”
“…If I had to say, they were more the gentle and attentive type.”
“So.”
Yuji rested his chin in his hands. “Why’d you break up?”
The atmosphere, which had just begun to loosen, suddenly turned heavy once more.
In the stillness of the room, Shoko flicked her lighter. A flame leapt up with a soft hiss.
Gojo answered with a bright smile, “We never broke up.”
“Eh? Eh??”
Yuji was baffled, and so was Nobara. Even the second-years were taken aback. Maki couldn’t help blurting out, “Hah??”
Megumi sat down with the fruit, listening as Gojo, in a tone far too nonchalant, remarked, “We never said we were breaking up, so naturally, that means we didn’t.”
He tilted his head back slightly.
“So, in theory, he’s still mine. One and only.”
-
The ones who stayed behind to clean up after dinner were Yuji and Megumi. They walked back to the dorms along the darkened corridor and stopped outside their respective doors.
Megumi hadn’t yet closed his when Yuji followed him over.
“…Is there something else?”
Megumi looked at him. Yuji smiled.
“It’s still early, and tomorrow’s the weekend. Wanna play video games, Fushiguro? A movie works, too.”
Who could resist Yuji’s puppy-dog eyes?
So Megumi stepped aside and headed over to the television to connect the controllers.
He hadn’t touched his Switch in quite some time. Too much had happened lately.
At that thought, he reflexively glanced back at Yuji, confirming for the who-knows-how-many-th time that Yuji was still very much alive, then turned back to search for the Overcooked game cartridge that had somehow gone missing.
Had it fallen under the desk?
Or slipped into some corner of his bag?
His mind was scattered today. He accidentally bumped into the bookshelf, and a box from the top shelf came loose, falling straight toward his head.
“Fushiguro!”
“!!”
By reflex, Megumi should have been able to dodge. And given Yuji's physical abilities, he too should have been able to catch it in one hand. But both of them moved at the same time, and the result was that they crashed hard into each other.
The contents of the box scattered across the floor.
Megumi and Yuji sat face to face on the floor, each holding a hand to his forehead, breathing sharply.
The sturdier and more durable Yuji recovered first.
“Fushiguro, are you alrigh—eh? What’s this?”
Megumi followed his gaze.
Right next to his hand were a child’s pair of pyjamas and a photograph.
“Fushiguro—”
Megumi stared at the photo.
Yuji, watching him, unconsciously fell silent.
“…Sorry.”
After a moment, Yuji spoke.
“Why are you apologising?”
Megumi looked up at him.
“For asking those questions in front of a Fushiguro who already knew everything. Now that I think about it, I just… felt sorry somehow. And for Gojo-sensei too.”
Yuji gave a small smile.
His gaze fell to the photograph. In the end, he couldn’t help but study it with some curiosity.
“So, this is that person?”
-
It wasn’t the first time he had fallen into a situation of utter helplessness, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Gojo had vanished to who knows where. Tsumiki had suddenly fallen ill. When he returned from school to their place, he found his sister lying on the floor, burning with fever. After calling an ambulance to take her to the hospital, Megumi sat on a bench nearby with a rice ball in his hand.
It was the cheapest umeboshi rice ball from the convenience store, still bearing its discount sticker. Gojo had left some money behind, but Megumi didn’t know how severe Tsumiki’s condition might become, and he didn’t dare spend recklessly.
The uncertainty of the future was etched into his bones. From his biological father, he had learned not to rely on anyone. Not a single person. He had to cling to whatever he could hold in his own hands. It didn’t matter if he suffered. He could make do. Because… he had no idea how much worse tomorrow might be.
Stray cats circled his feet, meowing at the rice ball in his hand. Megumi looked at them, then down at the only food he had, and eventually broke the rice ball into a few pieces, preparing to place them on the ground.
“Megumi Fushiguro.”
Someone called his name.
Megumi looked up and gazed at the figure before him.
A man stood there, black hair tied in a half bun, dressed in a black long-sleeve shirt, hands in his pockets, as if merely passing by.
“My name’s Suguru Geto. I heard your guardian can’t return for the time being.”
The man crouched down, smiling.
“I was afraid you’d starve to death, so I came to check on you.”
“May I sit next to you?”
he asked.
Megumi said nothing, just shifted slightly to the side.
So the man who had appeared out of nowhere sat down beside him.
Geto didn’t stop Megumi from feeding the rice ball to the cats. They sat side by side on the park bench, the sky behind them gradually dimming.
“Are you here to take me away?”
Megumi asked him.
“Yes, I’m taking you to my place for the night.”
The man replied.
“I’ll look after you until Satoru returns, or until your sister recovers. Whichever comes first.”
The man called Geto seemed to know everything about Megumi's whereabouts and condition today.
Megumi nodded.
“Alright.”
He stood up.
“Let’s go.”
he said simply.
“…Aren’t you afraid I might be a bad person?”
After a while, it was the adult who finally broke the silence.
“You’re Gojo's friend.”
Megumi said. “I’ve seen you on his phone screen.”
Geto froze, coughed once, then replied, “Ah. I see, well—”
Megumi looked at the ground.
“And I don’t really matter in this case.”
He pulled a crumpled bill from his pocket and asked Geto, “Is this enough to help Tsumiki?”
Geto glanced at the money in Megumi's hand, then down at the bits of rice ball on the ground, and suddenly asked, “Want me to carry you?”
Megumi instinctively wanted to refuse, but Geto had already crouched down, gesturing for him to climb on.
Megumi hesitated for a long time, then finally extended his arms and wrapped them around his shoulders.
Geto lifted him onto his back, adjusted his hold slightly, and let out a quiet sigh.
-
Geto lived in a modest apartment. In the living room were a kotatsu and some toys. Two girls, about the same age as Megumi—one with white hair, the other with black—sat beside the kotatsu playing a kitchen game.
“What would Megumi-kun like to eat? Sukiyaki sound good?”
Geto asked, rolling up his sleeves to start cooking.
“…That’s fine.”
Among all the adults who had ever looked after him, Geto was the most dependable. On the way back, they had stopped at a shopping mall. Geto carried him the entire time, helped him pick pyjamas, a children’s toothbrush, confirming again and again that the colour and pattern were to his liking, and even encouraged him to take all the snacks he wanted.
The girls barely acknowledged him. Only Geto kept conversing with him. He talked about fighting curses in the past, though he mostly spoke of Gojo. Geto’s voice was quiet, gentle, unlike Gojo’s bright tone or his father’s brash one. Food piled high in his bowl, and Megumi ate earnestly, not because he was still hungry, but because he didn’t want to disappoint someone who treated him with such kindness—
“Megumi-kun.”
Geto gently took the chopsticks from his hands and, after watching him for a moment, patted his head.
“You don’t have to keep eating if you’re full.”
That night, Geto blow-dried his hair and tucked him into the warm futon.
He looked at Megumi and sighed lightly, though not in reproach. He reached out and smoothed the child’s spiky hair.
“Those two probably haven’t said anything, so let me be the one.”
“Don’t compromise so easily. Don’t sacrifice so readily. Megumi-kun, you think too little of yourself. You’re precious.”
Megumi said nothing.
Suguru Geto smelled of blood.
But then again, every adult he knew did.
Toji Fushiguro did.
Satoru Gojo did.
They were probably the “two” Geto had meant.
Perhaps grown-ups just carried the scent of blood. They wore black to conceal it, wore black blindfolds to ignore it—
Their blood. Someone else’s.
All of them walked a road soaked in blood.
But why, then, were Suguru Geto's hands so warm?
Half-asleep, Megumi sensed the person sitting at the bedside was about to leave.
He instinctively reached out and clutched the edge of the man’s sleeve.
And so, until Megumi had fallen asleep, Geto did not leave.
-
When Megumi awoke, dawn had not yet broken.
Faintly, he heard the sound of a door opening. He walked to the bedroom threshold and saw Geto seated on the sofa, smoking.
The one who entered was Gojo.
A dessert sat on the table, carefully wrapped in plastic film. Geto looked up at Gojo and smiled gently, opening his arms.
“You’re back.”
Geto said.
“Mn.”
Gojo walked over and straddled Geto’s lap, burying his head in the crook of his neck.
“Are the kids asleep?”
he asked, though his head tilted slightly toward Megumi. The bandages covered Gojo’s eyes, but Megumi immediately realised he was looking at him.
Because he raised one finger to his lips and made a quiet shushing gesture.
—Do not disturb.
Gojo and Geto chatted as if a husband returning late from work were asking after his child. Geto smiled. The cigarette held between his fingers was the only light in the dim living room.
“Mn, next time you go on a mission, give Megumi-kun a credit card beforehand, one with no spending limit.”
Geto said. “Boys should be raised generously.”
Gojo laughed. “Eh—my card is left for you. Everything the Gojo clan has, I’m happy to share with you.”
Geto reached up and ruffled Gojo's hair twice, his tone calm. “Is that so? Will you submit to me too, then?”
Gojo replied with ease, “I won’t.”
he said.
“I know you won’t.”
Geto's tone was just as light.
“Next time you need someone to take care of the kid, don’t call me.”
Geto said, “It’s obviously better if he has nothing to do with me.”
“But I really don’t know how. Raising a kid, I mean.”
Gojo sighed.
“Satoru will do just fine.”
Geto held him close, patting him gently on the back. “Satoru is the strongest. You’ll be fine. Even without me.”
Gojo said nothing.
Fushiguro grew tired standing there too long. He accidentally bumped into the door.
A creak. Geto looked over.
“Oh, Megumi-kun is awake?”
Geto smiled. “Perfect timing. Time to go back with Satoru.”
He nudged Gojo aside and took Megumi by the hand, leading him back to the bedroom to change.
Megumi watched as Geto buttoned his shirt for him. Suddenly, he asked—
“What do you like to eat?”
Geto froze, then replied, “I’m not sure.”
He gave a wry smile. “It’s all the same to me. Why do you ask, Megumi-kun?”
“At dinner, you talked a lot about Gojo. But what about you?”
Megumi said, “What do you like to eat? What do you like to do? Does it hurt when you’re injured?”
Geto's expression suddenly turned distant. He gave Megumi a smile. This time, in Megumi's eyes, it was full of sorrow, devoid of sincerity.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s meaningless.”
he replied.
Megumi said nothing. Not until Gojo took his hand and was about to leave did he turn back and look at Geto.
“I won’t see you again, will I?”
Geto leaned against the doorframe and shrugged.
“You won’t.”
Megumi felt Gojo’s grip on his hand tighten. Tight enough to hurt.
But Gojo never once looked back at Geto, nor did he say a word.
Megumi thought he ought to say something.
Something like— Geto-san, don’t think so little of yourself. You’re precious.
Maybe to this man, the most precious.
But all he said was.
“If I won’t see you again.”
Could we take a picture together?
You said I was precious, so my wish must matter too, right?
-
“That was when the photo was taken.”
Megumi said.
“I never saw him again. That room, it became empty on the next day.”
Yuji stayed silent for a long time, so long that Megumi thought he had fallen asleep.
“Fushiguro.”
Yuji lifted his head, his puppy-dog eyes already red.
“Fushiguro.”
His voice, calling his name, came out choked with tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that—”
“Why are you crying?”
Megumi laughed softly and patted Yuji.
“No one knew. It’s not your fault, or Panda-senpai’s. No one has anything to apologise for.”
“I feel so sad. Why didn’t Gojo-sensei and Geto-san end up together? Why???”
Yuji, who once sobbed at Raven and Beast breaking up while watching X-Men, could not endure this kind of sorrow. He was heartbroken from the realness of it.
Megumi rubbed his finger along the photo’s edge.
He answered quietly.
“Because Suguru Geto… is no longer with us.”
-
By the next day, even overtime worker Kento Nanami and Ijichi had heard about the soul-baring interrogation that had taken place over dinner.
As people who happened to know both what had happened back then and how it all ended, they all agreed, it was, frankly, a bit cruel.
But Gojo carried on like nothing had happened, still wandering around the school, pulling Nanami into idle conversation, tormenting Ijichi, hiding Shoko’s cigarettes, and arguing with Yaga.
“Did Yuji and Nobara come looking for you earlier? Megumi too, maybe?”
He slung an arm around Nanami's shoulders. “They ran the moment they saw me. What’s going on that I’m not supposed to know?”
Nanami replied flatly, “They said they misrepresented your private life and wish to make amends.”
“Eh?” Gojo looked confused. “What was misrepresented?”
“It was all true, wasn’t it? The tenderness and thoughtfulness, the beauty and charm, and the not having broken up—all of it was true?”
“Even if only for a second.”
Nanami suddenly cut him off. “Don’t laugh, Satoru Gojo.”
“Why not?”
Gojo's tone remained cheerful. “I’m not sad. I’m not pitiful. Why shouldn’t I laugh?”
His voice was quiet. “If that’s what you think of me, Suguru would be angry.”
Nanami pressed his lips together. “And how would you know?”
“He’s dead. How would you know what he would think?”
Gojo replied with complete conviction. “Of course I know. Because it’s Suguru. So I know.”
Nanami drew a deep breath.
“Senpai…”
He had rarely ever addressed Gojo that way, but now all he felt was powerlessness. Images of of Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo in the past flashed through his mind. And Yuu Haibara. Yuu Habiara. Haibara, smiling. Haibara, brimming with ambition. Haibara, shouting at him to run as the curse pierced through his body.
Haibara's death. Haibara's cold, lifeless corpse.
Suguru Geto. Suguru Geto.
Eyes like ice. Hollow cheeks.
But still he held him, still comforted him, still gripped his shoulder and kept him upright.
Hands still warm. Voice still calm.
—Get some rest, Nanami.
—It’ll be alright.
Why must you all pretend you’re unscathed.
Every one of you.
Why wait until everything collapses.
How I loathe staring into ruins.
“…Forget it.”
Nanami said.
“The kids left their apology gift in the drawer of your desk. Knowing you, you probably won’t open it for a few centuries—just make sure you do.”
“Got it!”
Gojo smiled as he watched him walk away.
-
“Drawer~ drawer~”
Gojo strolled into the empty office, pulled open the drawer, and sure enough found several clumsily wrapped little packages inside. He dragged over a chair, sat down, and in good spirits, chose the neatest one to open. Unsurprisingly, it was from Megumi.
“Ah.”
His gaze lingered on the photograph.
Geto crouched beside a very small Megumi, smiling. Gojo himself barely made it into the frame, half a face and one eye.
Ah, that time.
Not long after Geto defected, Gojo had a difficult mission come up unexpectedly. He called Geto’s old number, unreasonably asking him to watch over the Fushiguro siblings whom he had just taken in.
After that day, he never saw Geto again.
That number was never answered again.
Not until the day Geto reappeared at Jujutsu High.
“Didn’t you always say it was lost? What’s with the sudden generosity, Megumi?”
Gojo chuckled and reached for the next package.
Wrapped with little tigers, inside was a panda-shaped USB stick. The wrapper bore apologies and two crying faces drawn by Panda and Yuji. Gojo couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“What is this?”
He pulled over a laptop and plugged in the USB. Inside was a short audio file. When the voice in the recording sang the first line, he suddenly froze.
Geto was singing.
The doll and the little bear dance.
One-two-one, one-two-one.
In the background, young Panda’s voice chimed in, asking, “Is the doll another mutated cursed corpse? Why haven’t I seen it before?”
Then he heard Geto laugh. Sixteen-year-old Geto, as warm as the spring wind.
—“Ah, well. Let’s go ask sensei to make Panda a playmate too, Satoru?”
That’s right.
I was there too.
Skipping class with Suguru to watch the little panda.
What happened after that? Did Yaga catch us and beat us within an inch of our lives?
Nobara and Maki had gifted him a jar of his favourite candies. On the lid, they’d written: We’re not sure why, but sorry, Gojo-sensei. Shoko had given him an old lighter with a loose cap—the very one she’d refused to give him, no matter how many times he’d asked in the past.
Nanami, who hadn’t participated in any gossip, had still left him something—a printed screenshot of a text message.
The first one was dated a year after Geto’s defection, from an unknown number, sent to Nanami.
“Tell Satoru happy birthday for me. — Suguru Geto”
Every year. Every year.
Right on time.
Nanami-kun, tell Satoru happy birthday.
From Suguru Geto.
“The kids said, don’t cry.”
Shoko walked in and sat beside him.
“…What’s the meaning of all this?”
Gojo covered his eyes, laughing softly.
“To give Suguru back to you,”
Shoko said. “It’s not much, but what little we had—we’re returning it to you.”
Returning the Suguru Geto we remembered to you.
Panda remembered a song.
Megumi remembered a toothbrush and pyjamas.
Maki remembered the candy that fell on the training field at Jujutsu High.
Shoko remembered the summer they cut class and smoked together.
Nanami remembered ten years’ worth of birthday wishes.
Happy birthday.
Merry Christmas.
I won’t be able to wish you Happy New Year.
—At the end, couldn’t you have cursed me just a little?
—If you won’t say it, then I will.
—I never did, and never will, break up with you, Satoru.
“That’s enough now.”
Shoko said.
“It’s okay to cry.”
She patted Gojo on the shoulder and left the room.
I can’t cry.
Gojo let out a sigh.
Suguru cursed me.
—You’ll always be mine.
—And I don’t want you to cry.
-
It wasn’t a rumour.
It wasn’t the past.
“Not an ex. A current.”
“Suguru is, and will always be, my beloved.”
End.