Chapter Text
Suguru Geto felt unbelievabely weak.
He's had a rough day, old and newer wounds were opening from recent strain. Radiating heat pulsed beneath his skin so unnaturally that his brain felt fogged and his vision doubled slightly.
He ran a palm down his face, shivers overcame his shoulders. He exhaled, closing his eyes which resulted in a (barely registered in time) feeling of losing ground as his body swayed hard to one side. Geto snapped out of it, thrown away by this weird feeling of lacking control and stumbled into the classroom. Geto lowered his head to greet principal Yaga.
And before anyone said anything:
"Suguru, could you handle a small job? I know you've just returned from your second mission, but the higher-ups assigned you with handling about four cursed spirits."
Shoko haven't fully gestured a waving hand and Gojo haven't yet finished his "Oi, Suguruu!", before that poor guy got another task.
"Said spirits need to be exorcised and absorbed. They hover over a playground in a village nearby, you'll find locations and guidelines in the envelope."
Yaga felt like a disappointment having to announce it.
"Don't worry, they're all third graded." he added.
"Huuuh?!" Satoru exclaimed with mouth full of strawberry mochi. That sweet treat was the only thing holding him back, already coughing to clear his throat and argue.
Suguru wasn't phased by his loud disapproval, too tired to talk.
"..Do they need to be absorbed after the exorcism?" Barely audible discomfort crept up his tone. Constant work and sleepless nights marked his handsome face with dark eyebags, complexion a little bit ashen.
Exhaustion from unhealed wounds poured into his deeply darkened eyes.
"Actually yes, they need to be transported to the campus. This is why the higher-ups decided to pick you especially. They say its... the fastest way."
The thought of forcing down four more spirits actually made him feel nauseous. His face somehow lost even more colour.
"Can't they do it themselves?! I mean, come on!" Satoru complained, the underlaying anger in his voice demanded an answer.
"When is that due, teacher?" Suguru asked, but it sounded more like a statement.
He was overworked, minor injuries and lots of bruises scattered across his toned body. Some injuries were actually alarming and major, but who really cared for a sorcerer? He could keep walking, resilient and used to it by duty experience.
Except it haven't been an hour since his last mission, and he's been choking back bile ever since.
Fuck, he forgot to listen.
"Suguru? Are you feeling okay?" Masamichi asked, genuinely worried now.
?? - Geto's eyebrows rose briefly, yet his gaze remained half-lidded. "Who, me?" - Suguru asked stupidly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. Hot and cold, hungry since he planned to eat a yummy dinner after a hard day, but instead he'll need to force down four curses. Four, "or so", useless curses, like a disposable trash can.
But weren't they "the strongest"?
Lately the higher ranks butchered the students with all kinds of missions; being strong hadn’t meant their missions were effortless. Exactly the contrary - their missions matched or often exceeded their strength in difficulty. Jujutsu students were like disposable resources - exactly the same with human lives, in those narrow-minded, corrupt eyes.
Principal Yaga strongly opposed their harsh, unjust decisions and worked to protect his students, at least as far as he could reach.
"Yes. You're looking pale. Look, I tried asking them about someone else, but-"
Geto's eyelid twiched once from listening to this bullshit.
"I'm fine, professor. I'll be on my way now." His voice was decisive with hardly maintained frustration. Suguru took the envelope and turned on his heel to leave so abruptly, that once again Gojo got interuppted mid-comment. Everything happened so fast, not even Geto thought it through.
The doors shut and Masamichi immiedately regretted troubling his most trusted student. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
Voices from the classroom sounded muffled as Geto walked away in a fast, steady pace, body language betraying his steaming emotions and stubborness.
Suguru was visibly pissed off, but buried that under a layer of respect.
He couldn't fucking fathom it; for all the work he's done, all the blood he's lost, all the curses he needed to swallow so he could grow stronger - this still wasn't enough. All the death he's seen and all the times he suffered from eating curses, completely alone in this feeling, because nobody knew how they tasted like.
Nobody saw Geto hunched over the toilet, trying to not throw up before classes or looking blankly at his favourite food. Geto became better at this; he could eat normally, feel the food's taste if the day wasn't busy and easily swallow up to thirty curses a day. He's getting progessively better and one day, he'll be unmatched in his technique.
But today, it felt like day one.
Someone's rushed footsteps echoed through the hall.
Suguru's stride quickened, instinctively trying to get to the car as soon as possible. He'd rather fight those monstrosities than talk with anybody.