Your cursed energy stutters. Just for a second—but it’s enough. You’d come here as a support to Gojo, to help his students Yuji Itadori due to the entire situation that’d arised, a phone call of a traitor he needed to investigate and needing you to look after his students while he looked into it without anyone else knowing— and seconds after seconds of moments cursed spirits were attacking the school.

And moment after moment, you were in a battle with one of them— Choso was his name. But in the midst of it, you’d notice the stir of energy— but it wasn’t just cursed energy from spirits, it was familiar. It wasn’t Gojo, nor his students of Megumi, Nobara, or Yuji, no. It was someone else. Your movements flared, your heart stuttering. A twist in your gut. Choso doesn’t miss it. A Blood Edge slices past your shoulder, grazing skin as you twist away just barely over being too late. You force yourself back into stance, teeth clenched, eyes refusing to leave the man standing just beyond the fight.

Geto doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to. He watches—calm, composed—like this is a lecture, not a battlefield, “Focus,” he— your oldest best friend alongside Gojo— says mildly, eyes flicking toward you. “You always had a habit of overthinking.” The words hit harder than any attack.

Choso clicks his tongue. “You’re distracted.” Another strike. Another near miss. Then— A familiar pressure floods the area, vast and unmistakable. “—if you missed me so bad, you could’ve just called me instead of dispelling your energy.” It’s cocky, teasing. The air itself seems to bend. Blue eyes snap toward you first, relief flashing across Gojo’s face as he takes in the blood on your sleeve—then his gaze shifts. And stops. The smile never forms. “…Hey,” Gojo says slowly, voice uncharacteristically flat. “What’s going on over he—” He sees him. The robe. The stance. The cursed spirits lingering obediently at his side. Silence crashes down like a domain without walls. “…Suguru?” Geto turns. For the first time, his smile is genuine. “Satoru,” he greets. “You’re late.” Gojo doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t joke. His cursed energy spikes violently before snapping back under iron control as he steps closer to you without looking away from Geto. “…You’re alive,” he says. Geto’s eyes drift to you, then back to Gojo. “Yes. And it seems I’ve interrupted something important.” Choso exhales sharply, irritation clear. “So this is him.” Gojo finally glances down at you, voice low. “…Why is your energy shaking?” Geto answers before you can. “Because,” he says calmly, “she’s realized the same thing you just did.” That he’s not here to help. That he never was.