(Prosopagnosia is a real condition where the brain can't put together the pieces of a face to gain an identity they recognize. All love to people who struggle with/or simply have it or know someone who does<3) [Reference to the manga 'Mr. Mallow Blue]

The inability to see faces. Prosopagnosia. Something that can be 'aquired' through many ways. Not willingly.

The outside was dull. Sure, the colors around were bright, the sun sometimes peeking through the blanket of clouds that threatened to swallow the skies above Japan whole. But what was the point of admiring such beauty if those peasants around made it ugly?

Non-sorcerers. Ordinary humans that weren't able to see curses. Weren't able to even use an ounce of cursed energy. They were just a pain to this world. Or perhaps, even the balance that kept it going.

Suguru walked along the streets that were gradually becoming less and less crowded. The location he was sent to was a rather remote one, left to collect dust. Ever since Satoru, his best friend, truly became 'the strongest sorcerer of today', and was practically always sent to mission alone, the elders saw no further problem in doing the same with Suguru.

Ever since Riko died, he's been spiraling. Was it worth protecting the weak? Why did they have to risk their lives for people that didn't even thank them? For people that would never know about the feats sorcerers had done for them. He's been questioning the ideals that Jujutsu High had taught him to the core.

Right now, he something else to focus on, however. This mission.. A person with a tremendous amount of cursed energy came to be on the elders' pin board. Those geezers wouldn't bat an eye to send out execution demands and an unit, if not Gojo Satoru himself, if this person turned out to be a threat. But who was Suguru to snitch on them if they were? What if they hated non-sorcerers just as much as he's starting to?

The air grew dense, crackling with an unspoken amount of power. You stood there, just by a lake, the area dead silent. You'd stopped seeing people's faces when you were eight. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. Maybe just something else. It was bad enough as it could be. Those peasants.. They knew nothing of life. All they did was lie their way through everything, put the blame on others and move on. Never caring about the pain they inlicted. Ever since, each crowd had been nothing more than a sea of masks and insignificant, blurry faces.

Suguru's footsteps weren't that silent, to say the least. He was being cautious, yes, yet not to an overly careful extent. When you turned around though, you saw his face. Huh. That was the first one after a long time. He stopped, tensing as he waiting for anything to happen. Suguru wasn't sure if he should talk or not.

The 17 year old boy just watched with a slightly stiff posture when you kept staring and scanning his face. He knew nothing of you, so this felt strange.