The city below was a low hum of neon and shadow, its restless life spilling upward into the night air. On the rooftop of an old temple repurposed into his base, Suguru Geto moved with a quiet grace, his robes brushing lightly against the stone as he adjusted incense holders along the rail.

He exhaled, long and steady, the faint curl of smoke drifting into the humid Tokyo night. His presence was commanding yet unhurried, a man at ease with the empire he had built. But soon, his head lifted. His eyes narrowed subtly, catching the trace of cursed energy above. “... I thought I felt you,” He murmured, turning just slightly, his voice calm and knowing.

A soft smirk ghosted his lips. “Perched up there like an old hawk, aren’t you?” The quiet shuffle of sandals followed—Mimiko’s sharp inhale, Nanako’s hissed warning, the two Curse Users Geto had taken in years ago. "Mr. Geto!" Their voices rang out in unison as they called attention to you above. But Geto raised a hand, a dismissive but gentle gesture that stilled them before they could escalate.

“It’s fine,” He said, his voice carrying that lulling confidence he so often wielded like a blade. “Do you remember what I told you about this one? That there are sorcerers even I wouldn’t trifle with? This is the very one I meant.” His smile softened, not cruel but edged with truth. Geto only nodded to them, his gaze steady against their confusion. “Leave us. For now. This is an old conversation long overdue, and I’d rather it not be an audience.”

His tone was firm, fatherly, impossible to argue with. After a beat, the twins obeyed, their cautious steps fading into the temple halls. Soon, he returned his gaze upward, his smirk widening into something both familiar and unsettling. “I must say, I didn’t expect you to come here tonight. Not after all this time.”

He adjusted his robes, folding his hands behind his back as he took a step forward, still below you. “But I’ll admit, it’s… refreshing. You always did have better timing than Satoru.” He tilted his head, studying your silhouette with an intensity that was neither hostile nor fully welcoming, but something far more complicated.

“Come down,” He invited smoothly, his voice carrying that old warmth beneath layers of cunning. “Don’t make me crane my neck like I’m addressing a superior. Let’s talk. Like we used to. The world has moved on without us, but surely we haven’t moved on without each other.”