“The accumulation of those little despairs..."

Suguru's hopes were up. A premature sense of understanding, a glimmer of validation to what the future could be. A world without curses. It's what everyone wants, right? But everyone is too afraid to voice their concern. They were too afraid to look at the simple solution. Suguru was sure that Nanami was as tired of the fighting with as broken as his body was. From what it seems, even Nanami couldn't be so blinded from the truth.

"I'd say you sound crazy, Suguru."

Hopes for an ally shatters to large, painful pieces. It's shards send fresh stabs into Suguru's ego. Crazy? His thoughts just might be. But was it necessary? A resounding yes. Nanami's reaction was expected from someone who wouldn't understand. Someone who can't comprehend how freeing a curseless world would be. Geto was hoping for him to see what he witnessed. To offer Nanami the same lenses Suguru carries and place them before his very eyes. Some sorcerers were harder to convince than others, and getting Nanami to accept the truth is going to prove arduous. It's well worth the powerful ally. However, words were rattling in his mind. Another conflict storming within him, trying to take hold of his beliefs. Guide Nanami to the light, or continue to give Love to the strong, Punishment to the weak, and Death to the fools. Would Nanami have earned righteous punishment? Would pushing Nanami on the floor, watching him crawl and gravel at his own feet, and explaining how crazy it is to continue this never-ending marathon - be justified? Part of Geto knew it was crazy, and a part of him felt it was necessary. But could he really do that to his friend? Did he really have the strength to see a loved one suffer by his hands, even if there was an ultimate purpose to it? Is violence really an option?

Taking a mental note on the use of his first name, Suguru focuses on trust they forged in their friendship. Their bond became leverage he could use convince Nanami. Although this battle was over, the arduous war was just the beginning-- and Nanami's trust was his weapon.

Suguru narrows his eyes and presses his lips into a firm line. His eyebrows harden when his eyes rest upon Nanami's bloody golden locks.

When Nanami rests his weight on his arm, he flexes his bicep and lower back-- remaining sturdy to support and hoist up his injured friend. He could sense Nanami's instability when the other closes his eyes, making Suguru reach to catch him on instinct. All thoughts halt over concern for his friend.

Geto's features soften. Thankfully it was a false alarm, and he continues to allow Nanami to lead their pace. No one was collapsing now, not yet.

"I'll be sure to give it my all when you try." His heavy eyes close softly when he chuckles. A small smile curls his lips as he visualizes the outcome. "And I'm taking your weapon when you lose, Kento.

Suguru guides Nanami out the cold, lifeless morgue. The hum of the HVAC slowly fades into the distance, freeing their ears from its morbid grip. Step by step they bid Haibara their farewells, moving onward in their grief. The weight of his vulnerable foolish friend presses down on Suguru's shoulders, mirroring the storm of opposing thoughts placing pressure on his sanity.

Nanami attention catches on his senpai's strained features, the turmoil still churning in all the quiet. His words seemed out of place, not the usual kind placating that he had known Geto for. 

A part of him wanted to think it was the grief talking.   

This only gets worse, Nanami. Unless we find a way to stop curses from existing.   

The words itched at him. In hindsight, he might see the folly in believing they were harmless. Words that itched like a festering hole, not something that healed .

They continue on in silence, a slow pace, but Nanami doesn't exactly care. The gap between Nanami seeing Geto as just some gravitation force around Gojo, and the gap of Special Grade and Grade-2 feels comical now. Suguru saved them like he would any brother. The comradeship was not lost on Nanami.       He's grateful to have some dignity, Geto so easily taking on the brunt of both their weights allowed him to walk away at all.

The light of the early morning is starkly pleasant. The smell of dew and grass, and the morning bell for the few students of Tokyo high. Nanami keeps his gaze fixed ahead, brushing off the concern looks of familiar faces passing by. 

No one brave enough to confront him, offer awkward condolences, no invading questions. Kusakabe stands on some periphery, he notes, pretending to be looking at the mailboxes as Nanami realizes his dorm is in his direction. Kusakabe clears the way long before they are forced to socialize. Nanami wonders if it's because the respect he has for Geto Suguru or if he's a reasonable coward. Whatever the case, Nanami is thankful. 

Nanami presses on without explanation to any other passers by, desperate not to deepen any more undeserved attention. 

Suguru seems to understand, adjusting their slow trajectory towards the blessed privacy of the dorms. There's a murmer of 'almost there,' and Nanami gives a tight nod. Jaw clenches against the blaze of pain as they go up the steps. 

They make it into the men's dorm building and pause for him to catch his breath. Suguru is a constant steadying hand under his arm when Nanami cradles his chest. At least they're alone now. 

"There's something I need to grab," he says nodding to the men's old bathrooms past the door.    "I can manage the bathroom alone," he says, looking at Suguru in silent plea. Slowly, gently, they untangle. And Nanami pulls away from the hovering support before Suguru can argue.     

Nanami makes it a few shaky steps before halting, a barely muffled groan escaping him. Glancing down in dismay, he pulls his hand away from his chest. The makeshift bandages soaked through the black of his uniform. The lack of Geto's support reveals the true extent of the blood loss.      

Cursing under his breath, Nanami looks back to Suguru. He catches sight of blood on his hand as well. "It's fine, stay here. I'll return shortly."   

Nanami pushes into the bathroom. Along the wall sits pipework rarely maintained by the aging school— and Nanami palms the grooves. He has what students would call a 'secret stash': some attempt at juvenile delinquency, one that Nanami had placed in his first year.