𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ↝ getō suguru

𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁

[AUGUST, 2007]

iv. A PREMATURE DEATH

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EVERYTHING WAS SO TEDIOUS.

the life of a jujutsu sorcerer was unbearable. the life of a curse manipulator was strenuous. it was as if geto's very soul was being chipped away at with every mission. like a chiseler with a statue before him and no aim.

each day was no different. 

an unending cycle of exorcising and absorbing. exorcise and absorb. 

exorcise. 

absorb.

it seemed as if geto was fated to a life of such torture. a life that neither satoru nor you could ever understand. a routine that no one else had to endure but him.

but for whom did geto endure it for?

it was a question that geto had been struggling to answer for the lastfew months.

why did he do this, this exorcising...?

he knew it was the method he had learnt to deal with the issue of curses, the one he had spent so much time perfecting in yaga's classroom and on the grounds of the school. 

but was it truly the only method?

the thoughts seemed to flood geto's mind as he stood in the shower room. the water flowing over him was a distant sensation as his mind looped in dangerous circles like a broken record, always arriving at the same solution.

if he couldn't solve the issue by eradicating the curses, maybe he had to solve it by going directly to the root cause...

and maybe, just maybe then— you, satoru, shoko and the others could be safe.

suguru's mind became quiet for a moment. 

his hazel eyes remained on the same spot in the maze of shower tiles that lined the wet room. despite the water that fell over his eyelids, hiding his tears, despite the long onyx strands of his hair that clung to his face and his back like a second skin, he continued to focus on the tile.

a cracked tile.

one that did not belong amongst the other pristine porcelain tiles.

it was as if his eyes had been enchanted to remain on that spot. cursed to gaze upon it and despite his best efforts, he couldn't look away.

it seemed to be by sheer will that geto was even standing. over the past months, his body had wasted away. his cheeks had sunken and his body had grown thinner. you had mentioned the the weight loss in passing a few times to him — and he had always brushed it off as the season's weather or your imagination — but suguru knew that you didn't know the depth of it and he could not blame you for that. but sometimes, in some twisted joke with himself, geto wondered what would kill him first, his body or his mind.

it was an indescribable feeling of sinking that was dragging suguru down. wearing and breaking him down. 

and he couldn't fucking breathe.