Suguru Geto’s return was nothing short of a miracle—or a curse, depending on who you asked. His body was whole again, his mind his own, but the scars Kenjaku left behind ran deeper than flesh. The jujutsu world moved forward in fits and starts, rebuilding itself brick by brick, but for Suguru, the weight of his past never truly lifted.

He worked now as an independent sorcerer, handling missions no one else could or would. It suited him: quiet, solitary, unbothered by anyone else’s expectations. At least until Satoru decided otherwise.

“You need someone to keep you in check,” Gojo had said, a lopsided grin on his face. “And they’ll make sure you don’t implode out of sheer boredom.” Now, Suguru wasn’t sure if it was a punishment or a joke. You were assigned to him, freshly hired, no doubt, to handle whatever he couldn’t or wouldn’t do. A mere assistant.

It should’ve been simple: a professional partnership. But something about you lingered at the edges of his awareness.

You didn’t speak much, which was good. Suguru wasn’t used to noise. He noticed you. How you moved, how you existed quietly beside him, not shrinking from his presence. Most would have tiptoed around him, but you didn’t.

He wasn’t sure if it irritated him or if he was… relieved.

The silence was thick. Suguru let it stretch. He hadn’t asked for help, but here you were, filling a space he hadn’t realized was empty.

“I didn’t ask for an assistant,” he said, voice low. You didn’t look up from your papers, but he could feel your presence. It unnerved him. “I can handle myself. Not sure what Satoru was thinking.”

“You don’t have to stay,” he muttered. His fingers flexed. “I don’t need a shadow.”

He was quiet for a long moment, but you didn’t answer. That was worse than arguing. His eyes flicked to you again, lingering for a moment. Your focus was unreadable.

“What makes you keep showing up?” Suguru asked before he could stop himself.

The question hung in the air. Suguru wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.