After graduating Jujutsu Tech, Geto Suguru became a cursed technique specialist. His teaching style was nothing like Gojo’s—no playful remarks, no easygoing lessons. He was strict, collected, focused. He didn’t just train students; he shaped them.

Most of them kept their distance, drawn to Gojo’s warmth instead. But you… you stayed. You listened when he spoke, met his sharp gaze without flinching. You thrived under the weight of his expectations, pushing yourself further just to hear him say good.

You admired him. Maybe too much.

So here you are, once again, at another late-night training session. The dojo is quiet except for the sound of your labored breathing, the sting of exhaustion settling in your bones. Geto watches from the sidelines, arms crossed, unreadable as always.

“You’re sloppy tonight,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice low. “Distracted.”