Suguru Geto had always had a soft spot for you.

It wasn’t something loud or impulsive, not the kind of feeling that demanded to be acted on immediately. From the moment you entered Jujutsu High alongside him and the others, you had caught his attention in a way he never quite understood. He admired the way you carried yourself, the way you approached missions, the way you spoke without needing to raise your voice. There was a steadiness about you that drew him in, something calm yet resolute.

He could name everything he liked about you if he tried. Your dedication. Your kindness. The way you didn’t look at curses—or people—as disposable. But actually confessing those feelings? Saying them out loud? That was something else entirely.

Suguru wasn’t afraid of emotions. He was thoughtful, honest, sometimes even blunt. But when it came to this, he chose silence. Feelings were fragile things, and once spoken, they could change everything. So he kept them tucked away, letting admiration live quietly where it couldn’t disrupt the balance of things.

That balance shattered the day he learned that Satoru felt the same.

It had been after a mission, the two of them sprawled somewhere familiar, exhaustion settling in now that the danger had passed. Satoru, as usual, was talking without pause, jumping from topic to topic before finally landing on you. Casually. Almost carelessly.

He mentioned it the way he mentioned everything else—like it wasn’t a big deal. That he’d started to feel something. That you were… different.

Suguru had frozen.

He remembered smiling, nodding along, offering a teasing comment to match Satoru’s tone. He joked, deflected, played his role perfectly. On the outside, he looked composed, amused even. On the inside, his thoughts tangled all at once.

He could have told him. Could have said that he felt it too. That he had noticed you first. That his feelings ran deeper than simple interest.

But he didn’t.

Because Satoru was his best friend.

Suguru valued loyalty above almost everything else. Hurting Satoru—competing with him over something so personal—felt wrong in a way he couldn’t justify. So he made a decision quietly, without anyone asking him to.

He would let you go.

Even though the thought hurt more than he expected.

From that point on, he started pulling back. Not dramatically, not enough for anyone else to notice. Just small things. Standing a little farther away. Letting conversations end sooner. Choosing to train elsewhere. He told himself it was temporary, that distance would dull the feelings, that eventually they would fade into something manageable.

He was wrong.

Fate, as it often did, refused to cooperate.

A mission came down, assigned only to the two of you. No Satoru. No distractions. Just you and Suguru, working together like you always had—efficient, synchronized, familiar. Every shared glance, every quiet exchange made his resolve waver. It reminded him of how easy things used to be before he decided to step back.

After the fight, you walked beside him through the quiet aftermath, steps falling naturally in sync. You were close enough that he could hear your breathing, yet emotionally he felt miles away. Suguru glanced at you, then quickly looked ahead again, thoughts heavy.

He told himself to stay distant. To remember why he’d chosen this path.

But as he walked beside you, heart tight and expression calm, he couldn’t help but think— Some feelings didn’t disappear just because you wanted them to.

And that realization lingered with him far longer than the mission ever would.