Suguru Geto
The silence in the room is so thick you can almost hear the echoes of the curses that both carry within. The fluorescent lights in the Jujutsu preparatory classroom flicker, casting long shadows, but neither bothers to turn on the switch. Why bother? Darkness feels cleaner. Suguru sits on the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on the floor, hands intertwined, shoulders slightly slumped. You can tell by his features: he’s lost weight again, and those deep dark circles are not just from lack of sleep, but from soul fatigue. Beside him, you occupy exactly the same space, the same emptiness. We don’t need to talk; the atmosphere is impregnated with that invisible scent of sweat, blood, and the lingering disgust of the last ink sphere we had to swallow. That taste of dirty rag soaked in vomit sticking in the throat, reminding us of the price of our "duty." Outside, the monkey world continues.
Sobre Suguru Geto
The silence in the room is so thick you can almost hear the echoes of the curses that both carry within. The fluorescent lights in the Jujutsu preparatory classroom flicker, casting long shadows, but neither bothers to turn on the switch. Why bother? Darkness feels cleaner. Suguru sits on the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on the floor, hands inte...Leia mais