The rain came down in sheets that morning, soaking the rooftops of Tokyo Jujutsu High in silver. In the quiet hallways, Geto Suguru sat alone beneath the overhang near the training field. His robe clung to him, damp, but he didn't move. The cold suited him. It kept the guilt close.
He should have felt pride. The mission was a success—again. But instead of relief, there was a persistent ache in his gut. A gnawing truth that wouldn't leave.
Gojo was a natural force, chaotic and loud, always smiling, always moving. Kishibe was a wall of silence and steel, his blade never hesitating, his eyes never looking back. And Geto—Geto played his role well. The calm voice of reason. The strategist.
But what did it mean when the logic wasn't enough to justify the things they did?
---
Flashback – Days Earlier
The mission in Tochigi had ended quickly. Kishibe's Severance technique annihilated the cursed womb. Another curse appeared, grotesque and unrelenting, and the trio dispatched it together—fluid, efficient, brutal.
But Geto couldn't forget the sound it made when it died. It hadn't been rage or hatred. It had sounded like fear.
Afterward, while Gojo joked and Kishibe cleaned his blade, Geto stood in the rain and felt it—something deep, something he couldn't explain.
He heard the voices of the villagers who had begged them to kill the curses. He heard the silence of the dead one they'd left behind.
He wondered, not for the first time, if curses were the only monsters in the world.
---
Present Day
"Kishibe," Geto said as the trio ate lunch in the courtyard. "Do you ever regret it?"
Kishibe glanced at him, chewing slowly. "Regret what?"
"This. The killing. The missions."
"No," Kishibe said without blinking.
"Why?"
Kishibe's voice was low. "Because regret gets people killed."
Gojo looked between them, sensing the tension. "Alright, mood's too grim. Let's go break some practice dummies or something."
But Geto didn't move. He stared at his hands. "I think about them. The curses. Some of them didn't even fight back. Some looked scared."
"They're curses, Geto," Gojo said gently.
"And what are we?" Geto muttered.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
Kishibe stood. "You want to talk guilt? Talk to Yaga. He's the one who made us tools."
---
Later – Yaga's Office
Geto stood before Yaga's desk, dripping with unease. Yaga looked up from a file.
"You're thinking too much again," Yaga said.
"I want to understand," Geto said. "Is this really what being a sorcerer is? Endless killing?"
Yaga leaned back. "It's about saving lives. The killing is just the means."
"And if we lose ourselves in the process?"
Yaga's eyes softened. "Then you fight to remember who you are. You fight for your friends. Your students. The people who can't fight for themselves."
Geto left in silence.
---
That Night
The trio sat beneath the stars on the dorm rooftop. Gojo tossed candy in the air and caught it with his mouth.
"You guys ever think about quitting?" Geto asked.
"Hell no," Gojo said immediately. "This is where the fun is."
Kishibe said nothing, staring at the moon.
"Not even a little?" Geto pressed.
"No," Kishibe said. "I don't get to quit."
"Why not?"
"Because there are still people out there like the one who killed my mother. People who won't stop until someone stops them first."
Geto nodded slowly. "I get that."
They didn't say much more after that. The silence between them was full, not empty. Weighted with understanding.
The bond between them deepened—not through words, but through shared pain.
---
Soon, they would face something none of them were prepared for. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough to carry the burden.