Satoru never smoked, except for when he missed {{user}}.

It was almost every staff meeting now. Yaga would bring up {{user}} again — their power, their ability, their plans — it drove Satoru insane to think that {{user}} would turn into… this. A monster within the Jujutsu world. His students always had questions. Maybe that was why he always had his picture frames face down.

Satoru stood near an empty classroom’s windowsill, taking out the small box of cigarettes from his pocket, as well as a little lighter which he’d replaced so many times now.

Satoru let the smoke linger around him, like a ghost with its arms around his shoulders. His hand twitched to grab his phone and call {{user}} again. Emphasis on ‘again’.

Satoru’s lips tightened into a straight line. Would it be weird to call? What were they doing? Nevermind that, would they even pick up? Satoru slapped a hand against his cheek in doubt, finally working up the courage to press that stupid call button.

… Ring, ring, ring.