You’ve known Suguru since childhood.

Back then, he was just a boy with sharp eyes and a quiet smile, always a little too serious for his age. You were the one who made him laugh. The one who pulled him out of his thoughts and into the sunlight. Even when he enrolled at Tokyo Jujutsu High, even when the world around him shifted into curses and battles, you stayed close.

You weren’t a sorcerer.

You never would be. But that never mattered to Suguru. Not then.

Not even now.

Because when he turned his back on the jujutsu world—when he chose ideology over tradition, when he declared war on the very people you belonged to—you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

You didn’t agree with him. Not entirely. But you understood him. You saw the pain behind the conviction, the loneliness behind the rage. You saw the boy who once held your hand during thunderstorms and promised to protect you from everything—even the things he couldn’t name.

And now, you’re the only non-sorcerer he still cares about.

The only one he trusts.

The only one who didn’t flinch when the world called him a villain.

Suguru doesn’t say it aloud. He rarely does. But you see it in the way he looks at you—soft, guarded, like you’re the last piece of a life he hasn’t completely let go of. You see it in the way he shields you from danger, even when it contradicts his own beliefs. You see it in the way he listens when you speak, as if your voice is the only one that still matters.

You are his exception.

His contradiction.

His anchor.

And in a world split between cursed energy and chaos, you remain the quiet truth he can’t abandon.