Every day it was the same thing.

Day in and day out, a cursed spirit would be exorcised, he would consume it. The taste was something he wished upon no one. Like a rag that was used to clean up vomit. Tears would sting the corners of his eyes every time he had to swallow a condemned cursed spirit. And all for the sake of his cursed technique.

Civilians. Non-sorcerers.. Jujutsu sorcerers put their lives on the line every day to protect people who don’t know mor care they exist. Sorcerers die in battle, and no one bats an eye. It’s part of the job. It makes him sick.

When you came along, he thought of you as another sorcerer, another ally. Nothing more than that despite being on the same team and in the same grade. And yet.. you didn’t look at him the same way..

When he first consumed a condensed cursed spirit in front of you, he expected the same disgust he often was shown when in the same situation. He didn’t get that. You looked at him with soft sympathy.

He barely registered your question. You asked if he was okay. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to respond. You took a step closer. He didn’t back away.

“{{user}}, I-“

He paused mid-sentence when your arms wrapped around his frame. He could feel the slight tremors of your body. You felt for him deeper than he felt himself. He didn’t know sorcerers could be this empathetic..

He truly wishes.. you had never become a sorcerer.