Chapter Text
The first time you saw Suguru Geto was when you were 15.
New to Jujutsu High and ever so curious about the world. It wasn’t scary; you had experienced this stuff all your life, but never stepped into its world personally.
The quick tour by your old sensei ended at the field, where students and teachers alike were practising. The sky was bright blue that day, you remembered.
Scanning through the area, there was nothing but shouts and laughter heard by the clouds. Even so, your gaze dropped to the stairs, where 2 boys sat lounging. At first, it seemed arrogant, but as you observed their mannerisms, it seemed that they had every right to be arrogant.
One of the boys, a bit leaner, with bright white hair and sunglasses on, was staring out at the horizon, whilst the other, bulkier, with long black hair, was throwing pebbles at the other, who was sitting a bit higher on the stairs. All with a calm and casual smile.
Surprisingly, the white-haired dodged every pebble perfectly.
But that didn’t catch your eye. The guy throwing the pebble did. His slouched and lazy position with a smile that felt more sincere than any dog's bark caught your attention immediately.
Just as you started to stare, you saw the shift on his face as his head turned towards your direction.
You didn’t look away, but you didn’t push your curiosity further, walking towards the dormitory building and securing your sleep after the long ride from Takasaki.
The first time you interacted with Suguru Geto was 3 weeks after you saw him.
The smell of books and ink filled your senses as you skimmed over the heavy text on every book possible at Jujutsu High’s library.
Your legs ached, begged for a stretch, yet your mind and determination to move forward and improve as a sorcerer student stopped it.
It had only been a few weeks at this special high school, yet you had already collected a finished read of more than 60 books, finishing almost three 500-page books in a day.
Your cursed technique hadn’t been named or even recognised yet. A new and unique ability, only mentioned once in all of Jujutsu history, of a woman from Takasaki, your home town.
There was little that you knew. You knew that people would choke and cough every time you hit a little too hard. You knew that your opponents would experience shorter breaths as you fought. You knew it hurt your whole body like hell. And you knew you were extremely good at these unknown things you do, which caught the attention of a nearby Tokyo sorcerer going home from a mission past Takasaki.
How the technique works? No records. Why you feel choked every time you activate it? Also, no records.
No data, no practice plan. Only you and yourself exploring your own body, not knowing if it’ll lead to your death through loss of oxygen or not. It was inefficient, slow.
So you made it up through knowledge. Reading every book, learning every technique in a desperate search of yours, your clan’s. And slightly to boost your ego. After all, the higher-ups didn’t name you a prodigy for no reason.
Teachers praised you, classmates scrutinised you, but your pride and will to prove your strength kept you moving.
Your head dropped as you tried to comprehend another wind-based technique that had the same curse execution with a different theory, whilst a ringing sound kept playing in your ear as you marched through the third day without proper sleep.
Besides the ring, Jujutsu High was silent.
At least it was for a few moments.
Because in just a second, your tired body that was snoozing over the desk shot up as you sensed an immense amount of cursed energy charging towards you. And just as you thought, a large grade 3– no, grade 2 curse was jumping at you with clear hostile intentions.
At that moment, you seemed to go blank, your eyes glazed past its red-reformed face, its mouth, which was as wide as your face, stretched open, ready to devour its target– you.
Your head snapped in different directions, eyes grazing from book to book, searching for some type of useless help. You felt your fist forming automatically as the curse got closer, muscle memory kicking in before you finally saw it.
A book that you had earlier that day that kept you entertained and drawn for more than 5 hours straight. It was open to a specific page you had bookmarked earlier for no apparent reason, but gut.
Inside, a sketch of the mountains of Gunma stared at you. And for a spli t second, you felt transported back to your hometown.
Your mountain cabin from when you were a child, the forest field filled with cold and thin air where you trained to defend yourself from bullies, and home.
It happened too quickly. Because the next thing you know, your hand was reaching forward and the curse that was mere inches from you was blasted back, knocking over bookshelves and antiques with a loud humph of air.
Approaching the curse, your breath hitched as your hand forms a black mass, dropping it onto the curse, crushing his internal organs.
And then you coughed, and coughed, and coughed until your then raised hand reached the cold wood floor. Your lungs were on fire, and your hands were shaking.
You heard frantic footsteps stopping beside you as the person's breath hitched. With minimal energy, you held yourself steady on the ground before turning your head. Looking up, you were met with deep, dark slanted eyes with bangs falling on the sides of his face.
You know him.
You saw him on that day. He was the guy throwing pebbles at his friend with that calm and carefree smile, one which wasn’t present at that time as he was staring at you with panic and an open mouth.
Before you realised it, he picked up the curse, forming it into a ball and positioning it at his mouth. Your eyes cringed as you saw him swallow the ball with closed eyes and a scrunch on his nose.
He turned to look at you before crouching down and helping you get up, eyes locked on the floor. You followed his guidance as he led you to the table, sitting you down before slouching beside you.
The air was thick with silence and tension, his groans of disgust from the earlier consumption being the only sound cutting through. Your eyes glanced at him, head fallen back on the chair as his hands covered his piercing eyes.
Neither of you said a word.
“Sorry about that, one of the curses got loose.” The boy said after a long moment of unbreakable silence, his hands dropping as he turned to look at you.
You nodded slightly, choosing to stare at the earlier book that caught your attention. You felt his curiosity spark.
The chair he sat on creaked as he followed your line of vision to the book. Letting out a soft sigh before standing up and grabbing it.
Your eyes followed his movements as he flipped through the pages of it, confusion flickering through his expression.
“This wind control technique hasn’t been inherited in ages. Only the Waka Clan has the current sorcerer in control of this technique as of now.” He said, shutting the book. “Why are you reading this?”
You let the question linger before answering.
“Who are you to ask?”
His eyes widened a millimetre at the question before placing the book and extending a hand, his smile now evident.
“Suguru Geto, second year. Pleasure to meet you.”
So that’s his name.
You glanced at the hand before taking it in yours, giving it a firm shake.
“Okamoto [Name], first year.” You reply, receiving a soft hum in response.
“Okamoto, huh? I think the higher-ups mentioned you once.”
“Wouldn’t be surprising.”
You heard a chuckle at that reply.
“Well, now you know me. Care to answer my question?”
You let out a small sigh at the mention. Grabbing the book and flipped through it mindlessly.
“I’m searching for my technique. There’s nothing on it on records, and the only thing I know is that people breathe harder around it.”
Geto stayed silent, contemplating. “That force earlier, that was your technique?”
“I guess so.”
The man grabbed the book once more, flipping through it before landing on the sketch of the Gunma mountains, slipping it back to you.
“I don’t think winds your answer then.”
Needless to say, the day you talked to Suguru Geto was the day your lost technique finally found its name.
Kogen no Fukuin– Gospel of High Plateau.
And the day you found its name was the day a simple look and interaction led to the blossoming of a young and quick-lasting connection between a junior and senior.