stsg: hs edition | are we growing up or just going down?

[ascends]

[the room itself is fine, suguru supposes. the comforters covering the twin beds are a little faded; the chair wedged between the desk and a very, very small window has a stain upon its seat that he would rather not look at, much less think about, but all in all: it's fine. nothing to write home about, but certainly nothing to complain about.

the company, however, is another matter entirely.

suguru watches his so-called partner make a beeline for the bed closest to that very, very small window—and then flop back on it, arms spread wide as he presumably tests, like. the springiness of the mattress. who knows. it isn't as though suguru pretends to understand anything that satoru does, though he'd told himself, upon their first meeting, that it would behoove him to try. there were, after all, few people he didn't get along with; even as he'd endured satoru bounding about their classroom, asking obnoxious questions and doing his best to take up as much of the available space (and air) as possible, suguru thought that surely, surely, a fellow sorcerer would never number among them.

and yet.

it's the little things, with satoru. the way he'd stretched his legs into the aisle on the plane, forcing people to step over them even after a stewardess asked him, politely, to keep his limbs in his space; the way he'd spent the entire trip to the hotel complaining about being sent halfway across the country to deal with a curse that won't, he's sure, even be worth his time; the way he'd claimed this bed without so much as sparing suguru a single look—and it doesn't matter that suguru didn't, doesn't, care which bed he calls his own for a night or two? just as it doesn't matter that some part of him is relieved, in a way, to avoid the awkward, overly polite push-and-pull (no, no, it's fine, i don't mind, i mean it) that always accompanies these situations. there is a proper way to go about this.

there is a proper way to go about everything

but satoru is either blithely unaware of this (unlikely), or determined to buck against it at every available opportunity (highly likely)—and thus suguru, for the umpteenth time, presses his lips into a thin line, biting back the reaction he's sure satoru seeks. it simply isn't worth it.

(two days; two nights. that's as long as suguru needs to deal with this before they head home—where he will continue dealing with this, yes, but at least others will be around to distract him. each time someone sighs, or snaps, or rolls their eyes, it's nice to know he isn't alone.)

so: silence, then. suguru, setting his carry-on bag atop what he supposes is his bed before unzipping it, removing his neatly folded uniform, his neatly folded pajamas. the pajamas he leaves beside the pillow; the uniform he turns to hang in the nearby closet, hoping that most of the (inevitable) wrinkles will fall out by the morning. he isn't a stickler about neatness—not really—but if he's to question locals about the strange goings-on, a good first impression, he's sure, will open far more doors than a bad one.

and seeing as satoru remains stretched out on his bed, his own suitcase resting upside-down on the floor, suguru has a feeling that he is facing an uphill climb.

which he will worry about tomorrow. for now, as he calculates just how much time they have before nightfall (because while it's too late to do anything serious, it would be prudent to at least familiarize themselves with the scenes of the alleged crimes):]

We're leaving soon. [a pointed statement, paired with a pointed look.] I wouldn't get too comfortable.

[in fact, consider, like... getting up? brushing that messy mop of hair?]

Comments

[mugen]

[Satoru doesn't have a lot of experience with socializing with other teenagers. Up until he started school, his exposure to peers mostly came in the form of kids from the other clans, none of whom liked him. He hadn't liked them either, though that was less because of who they were and more because he had been preemptively instructed to see them as rivals who would never be able to reach his level. They'd take everything from you, if they could, he was warned every time he was paraded before their guests. He was rarely left alone with any of them, but the few times he was, it was clear that friendship was off the table.

The problem is always the same: Satoru exists on a plane that no one can hope to reach. And he's fine with that — he really is. It's what he's always known, and it's what he will continue to know as he rises higher and higher — until he's truly unreachable.

But something has been nagging at him ever since Suguru turned down his drink — a feeling that grows when Suguru tosses out that insult, salt on his wounded ego. He doesn't know what it is, but he thinks it has to do with the fact that no one has ever told him he's lacking in skill before.

No one has ever insulted his abilities. It wouldn't make sense. Satoru is the strongest. He's been trained since birth. If he wanted to, he could have Suguru laid out on the pavement without so much as blinking.

Suguru's words shouldn't bother him. His rejection shouldn't matter.

But, as Satoru trails behind Suguru, he realizes that they do.

Maybe he feels a little foolish. Or maybe he's a little embarrassed.

Maybe his feelings are hurt.

Or maybe Suguru is just irritating! And Satoru has to restore the balance by annoying him right back.

While Suguru is busy summoning his curse, Satoru occupies himself by opening his bag of konpeito, making sure to crinkle the bag as much as possible in the process. Sure, this mission is suddenly a lot more serious, but the curse isn't at the park, and for all that Satoru is aiming to provoke Suguru, it's in both their interests for him to snack a little.

He reaches into the bag and grabs a piece, then poises to launch it at Suguru's head while he's preoccupied with watching his curse fly away.]

Yeah? You wanna see —

[He cuts off, though his hand remains in the air, konpeito held in his fingers, waiting for the delivery of a quip that will not come. His attention moves from Suguru's head to the playground. First, the slide, near which Suguru's curse hovers, and then the swings.

Fastened to the swing on the left — the one closest to them — is a small piece of paper.]

Hold on.

[The piece of konpeito doesn't make it into the air, nor does Satoru pop it into his mouth. He drops it to the ground and begins walking toward the swings. This time, however, his steps are slow — cautious.]

Is that a talisman?

[It's shaped like one. But it doesn't feel like one. In fact, Satoru isn't getting a read on it at all, as if it's a black hole of cursed energy — everything sucked inside, leaving nothing for him to sense.]

[ascends]

[it would be easy to say that suguru pays satoru little attention—but that would be a lie. even as suguru wills his curse toward the epicenter, of sorts, suguru remains almost painfully aware of satoru? of the way he stops mid-sentence; of the way he willingly wastes a piece of candy, allowing it to slip from his fingers as he approaches that which suguru missed.

ah.

but while suguru is sure there is hell to pay—while suguru is somewhat resentful of it, given the fact this his curse would have alerted him to the so-called "talisman" in a matter of seconds—suguru remains calm. what matters, in this moment, is that which they are both focused on: that bit of paper imbued with some sort of cursed energy. a warning; a notice. someone—something—is watching them.

suguru takes in a quiet breath.]

Satoru.

[a softly spoken warning, which satoru is sure to be resentful of. he found it, after all; he's allowed to draw closer to it—except that suguru is here to serve as a yaga-esque stand-in, of sorts. a worrywart. he knows that he's meant to keep satoru in line, which is partly why he tamps down his own discomfort, his own fear, as he steps far enough forward to take his place by satoru's side. they're meant to be teammates, no matter the twists and turns they face.

they're meant to be teammates.]

If it knows we're here, it knows where we're headed next. [and next? and next. maybe it left such markers at the scene of every crime; maybe it's waiting for them to head to a particular area, hence the beat before suguru deigns to ask:] Can it sense us?

[in any way. satoru might be able to tell.]

[mugen]

[Whether a talisman or not, the piece of paper is eerie. Satoru, normally difficult to unsettle, feels his stomach flip uncomfortably as he nears it. He senses everything with his Six Eyes, and this should be no exception, but it remains a strange void, even as he moves closer.

The talisman itself may not prove to be dangerous, but the curse that left it definitely is. Any excitement Satoru felt at the prospect of showing off what he can do against a special grade begins to dissipate. If the curse is able to hide a piece of paper from him, what else can it shield? What else can it do?

Not that he plans on conveying his anxiety to Suguru. Satoru isn't supposed to be afraid — he's supposed to be untouchable — and so he doubles down on his determination and renews his desire to annoy Suguru.

It isn't all that difficult to do, especially once Suguru says his name like that. There's merit to his warning tone, but Satoru doesn't need another Yaga getting on his case. He's here to do a job — and part of that job is making sure that Suguru doesn't get hurt (and get him in trouble in the process) because he insists on walking in stride with someone he can't match.

But first: Suguru's question. Satoru refocuses on the residuals, attempting to read the energy for insight into the curse's techniques. It would be easier if he could see the curse itself; and it would be less taxing if Satoru had worn his shades all day, or been permitted to rest instead of starting the mission early. He blames Suguru for the headache that begins to build behind his eyes.]

Yeah. I'm pretty sure it can.

[The energy betrays an advanced awareness. If it were not for his Six Eyes, Satoru would assume the curse is with them at this very moment. But it isn't, at least not within Satoru's range.

Which means it knows who, exactly, is hunting it.

So: with his building anxiety, the knowledge that the curse is aware of him, specifically, and his annoyance at Suguru — in addition to the fact that this is what he is expected to do, given all that he is and will be, and given his role in jujutsu society at large — Satoru takes a long step forward, pulling ahead of Suguru.

Then he expands his Infinity, cutting Suguru off from both the paper and himself.

He grins at him from over his shoulder.]

You snooze, you lose!

[Or: stay there, so Satoru can swallow his fear and oh-so-casually reach for the piece of paper.]

[ascends]

[that scrap of paper isn't going anywhere, and yet suguru continues to watch it, warily, as satoru confirms his suspicions. a curse sensing, and undoubtedly tracking, their movements? a curse intelligent enough to assess them from afar, biding its time until it pinpoints something it believes it can use to its advantage. the smartest move, as suguru sees it, is to fall back, stationing weak curses as sentries throughout the city while they work together to pinpoint their opponent's location—

—which means, naturally, that satoru chooses to press forward. alone.

but for all that suguru expects this—satoru, acting as though he is the only person who will be affected by his rash decisions—suguru still finds himself caught off guard, jerking his attention back to satoru just in time to catch that grin. you snooze, you lose! a childish taunt that tests suguru's preternatural patience, prompting yet another flare of annoyance—and movement. suguru, closing the distance between them in two long strides; suguru, reaching for satoru as satoru reaches for the curse's calling card, because suguru has always been one to care for those who seemingly care little about themselves.

it isn't until his fingers come within an inch of satoru's arm that suguru realizes the futility of reaching for the untouchable.

not that he understands the entirety of satoru's technique; they've yet to engage in a conversation that satoru does not seek to ruin within the first five minutes, but suguru knows that, if there is a list of things that satoru is determined to keep out, he is somewhere near the top? highlighted; underlined.

and yet.

it's fabric suguru feels, brushing against his fingertips. satoru's sleeve, which suguru instinctively grabs, grips, even as his eyes widen—because this shouldn't be possible. this is a fluke, of some sort; this is the universe and/or the curse playing a worrying trick, and if suguru doesn't take full advantage of it—if suguru doesn't hold on—then satoru can and will shove him away.

there's been enough of that.

and thus suguru tamps down his surprise, eyes narrowing as he attempts to pull satoru back. a short, sharp tug, just as satoru makes contact with the paper he should simply leave.]

Will you wait?

[though it's probably too late, all things considered. this contact has thrown suguru off balance, dulling his reaction time; satoru remains more than capable of grabbing the charm before suguru can attempt to tug him back once more.]

[mugen]

[Satoru hears Suguru move. He senses him reaching — feels him attempt to close the gap between them. He tries to focus on feeling smug, anticipating the moment that Suguru will make contact with his Infinity, because it's easier than nursing the anxiety that comes with stretching out his hand and attempting to grab an object that defied his Six Eyes. He thinks about what he'll say, when Suguru comes up short — a gloat that will deflect the seriousness of this situation; a brag that will keep him grounded.

But then the unthinkable happens: Suguru grabs his sleeve.

In the fraction of the second between Suguru grabbing and Suguru tugging, Satoru's mind stutters. His fingers brush the talisman, but he neglects to close his hand. Suguru pulls his sleeve, and Satoru's arm moves with the motion, pliant. His body follows, facing Suguru with wide eyes, mouth agape. It happens quickly, but in the moment, everything seems to move in slow motion. Satoru is hyperaware of the threat that is the piece of paper; he's hyperaware of being pulled away. And then he's entirely focused on Suguru, caught in his grip.

Whatever the talisman is, it shouldn't be capable of messing with his Infinity. The curse may be strong, but nothing in its residuals indicates that it is able to interrupt techniques. And even if it has one of the few tools that are capable of negating cursed energy, as the talisman suggests it might, it isn't here to use them.

Suguru's admission into his infinity has nothing to do with anything going on in the park.

It has everything to do with Satoru. Satoru let him in, even though he was specifically trying to keep him out.

Heat rises to his face, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. With a tug that he intends to be sharp but feels more awkward than anything else, Satoru pulls himself free of Suguru's grip and takes a step backward. This time, he makes sure Suguru really is barred from entry into his Infinity; he makes sure he doesn't accidentally let him in.

It has to be because he was tired — or too distracted by the paper.

Maybe he needs a little more training after all.

He attempts to steady himself with frustration.]

For what? We've got to look at it.

[It's dangerous to leave it hanging around, especially in a place where kids will find it. They need to remove it.]

You're the one who dragged me out here, remember? You wanted me to be responsible.

[That's literally what he's doing! Working, just like Suguru wanted! And of the two of them, Satoru is best suited for touching dangerous things, so! Suguru could have saved them both the unexpected and uncomfortable lapse in Infinity.

Satoru folds his arms.

But he doesn't go for the paper again. He remains rooted in his spot, annoyed but effectively subdued, waiting for Suguru's bright idea on what to do next.]

[ascends]

[the paper takes precedence, of course. keeping satoru from it until they can determine what, exactly, to do with it is matters far more than satoru's feelings on the matter—and yet, as satoru turns toward him, suguru's annoyance (why must satoru insist upon doing everything himself?) is dampened by discomfort. satoru's wide eyes; the flare of color in his cheeks. there's only a few seconds to study such things before satoru twists away, but it's more than enough time for suguru to realize that satoru, too, was—is—taken aback by the contact. he neither expected nor appreciated being touched.

which makes this almost intimate, albeit in the worst possible way. suguru, walking in on satoru during some deeply private moment; suguru, seeing some part of satoru that he has no right to see. not that it's his fault? reaching for satoru was reflexive; suguru never intended to make satoru uncomfortable, but as he pulls his hand back, there is still the sudden, stupid urge to apologize. i'm sorry, he almost says, fingers curling to his palm. i didn't mean—

but satoru speaks first, trading flippancy for frustration—and suguru bites his words back, fingers relaxing as he brings his hand to his forehead. if satoru is determined to assign blame, rightfully or no, then an apology will only fan the flames.]

I still do. You said it yourself: we have to look at it, [he says slowly, taking care to keep his tone measured.] Us. Together.

[as a team.

a lecture, however, is as useless as an apology, hence his slight frown as he swipes his bangs from his eyes. there's no telling what will happen once the piece of paper is removed; prolonged contact could prove harmful, hence suguru's second summon of the evening: a flesh-colored, frog-like blob, blinking up at them with its bulging red eyes. curses are generally less than pleasant to look at, but there's something particularly gross about this thing? the way its neck blows up like a balloon with each breath; the fact that the limbs folded beneath it are capped off by strangely human hands.

suguru prefers not to think about it.]

Let this take the hit.

[if there is one, that is. it could be nothing, and/or curses could be immune to it—but risking a curse's unnatural life is better than risking satoru's, especially if his infinity, for whatever reason, is on the fritz.

and it isn't as though the curse is allowed to have an opinion on the matter. it hops closer to the swings with single-minded purpose, brushing past satoru—before hopping right atop the swing the talisman is attached to? nimbly twisting about in the seat, fingers of its back feet securing it in place as it uses both of its front feet (hands?) to pluck the bit of paper free.

which is followed by—nothing.

or: nothing that suguru can sense, aside from a brief, barely there spike in cursed energy. a good thing; something that still makes him feel somewhat foolish—all as curse remains in place on the swing, breathing in and out before it slowly holds out its prize.

suguru watches it.]

...Anything?

[as in, did satoru's superior senses™ pick up on anything at all? suguru hopes that they did every bit as much as suguru hopes that they didn't.]

[mugen]

[Still reeling from the touch, Satoru is slow to roll his eyes in response to Suguru's insistence that they work as a team, but he manages it, albeit a half-second belatedly.]

Whatever.

[Let Suguru call forth his curse and take matters into his own hands. If he's so eager for partial credit, then Satoru might as well just relax — which is what he wanted to do from the beginning.

While Suguru summons his curse, Satoru takes out his shades and puts them on, blocking out as much as he can of Suguru and his cursed energy — effectively closing himself off from further strenuous work, and giving his eyes a break.

Through his shades, he watches the grotesque curse, keeping his attention on it as it hops toward the swing — and then makes contact with his Infinity, brushing up against it with its disgusting body. For a moment, he entertains the idea of attempting to exorcise it to make a point — an entirely bratty impulse that even he recognizes would go too far. But as it hops on the swing and uses those strange human hands to pull the paper free, Satoru has no choice but to admit that using the curse is a good idea — lending weight to Suguru's insistence that they work as a team, a fact that is difficult for Satoru to swallow.

It isn't simply stubbornness that makes him resist cooperation. Satoru has plenty of valid reasons to avoid it, ranging from the expectations on his shoulders to the destructive nature of his techniques. As a child, he heard it over and over again: Other people will hold you back. Or, as he looked longingly at other children on the rare occasion that he was permitted to venture out: There's a bounty on your head.

Satoru is meant to be in front, shielding the rest.

That's what he thinks about now, as Suguru proves himself useful — as his curse takes action and Satoru is forced to accept that he is right. Together, in this instance, would have been better. And yet, as he scans their surroundings yet again, confirming that the curse is out of range of his Six Eyes, he thinks of the bounty, and remembers why other people should stay out of his way.

Especially considering the problem at hand — determining the purpose of that piece of paper — is one that can't be solved by Suguru's curses. Hence Satoru's brief glimpse over his shades and a shrug of his shoulders — the paper is still a mystery.

Except...]

Did it do that before?

[He means the blip of cursed energy — the anomaly within the void that is the talisman. He doesn't know, because he was too busy being distracted by Suguru getting through his Infinity to pay attention. If it did, then it could be a clue — an indication of the purpose the object served. But Suguru messed that up.]

You pulled me away before I could tell.

[And guess who's responsible for Satoru's lack of a read on the object? Suguru, that's who! And maybe that isn't fair, considering Suguru had a good idea and Satoru didn't give him a moment to suggest it, but he's officially done with Suguru calling the shots, showing off, and touching him. He can keep the paper, or have his curse eat it, or maybe eat it himself. Whatever he wants to do!]

I'm going back.

[He's done! Forget ramen, forget strange objects, forget the curse. Satoru is already walking away, content to leave Suguru behind. There's a TV calling for him and a headache he has to nurse.

And maybe — maybe — in the back of his mind, Satoru knows that splitting up is a bad idea. Maybe he wants Suguru to follow, so that he isn't at risk while Satoru is enjoying what's left of the evening. But he doesn't allow himself to think about that too deeply — he simply walks, and leaves the rest to Suguru.]

[ascends]

[praise is neither wanted nor expected, in this moment? let alone from this particular person, because even if satoru were capable of looking past himself—an impossibility, suguru is certain—satoru would still choose to pick, and to pick, and to pick. no one will ever be as good as he is, in his mind; no one is capable of even coming close, which is surely why he is diametrically opposed to playing nice with others. he simply doesn't see the point.

and thus, as suguru watches his curse offer them that scrap of paper, suguru steels himself for whatever is to come. better safe than sorry is, perhaps, not a part of satoru's lexicon—and understandably (though shortsightedly) so; someone who can shield themselves from the world at large has little need to be cautious.

(or so suguru assumes. it isn't as though suguru knows, and truth be told, it isn't as though suguru cares—because even if satoru is determined to be reckless, suguru, as his partner, is here to keep him in check as best he can. it's the right thing to do.)

but instead of offering some obnoxious laugh and/or comment, satoru merely asks a pertinent question—albeit one suguru doesn't know the answer to—before seeking to shift the blame. not entirely undeservedly, suguru knows; the memory of that unexpected touch still makes him feel strangely ashamed of himself, for whatever reason, and yet it's— well, what is it? who, if anyone, is at fault? if yaga were here, he would undoubtedly make it clear; he would undoubtedly be disappointed in both of them, because as satoru turns away, suguru is aware of a single, simple fact: there are no winners here, for they've yet to understand how to act like a team.

alas.

which makes satoru's attempt at a hasty exit a bitter pill to swallow. it would be easy to blame satoru for it, of course; suguru is, honestly, tempted, but as he wills his curse to draw that paper back to its chest, he feels as though this entire evening has been a comedy of errors. there are other spots to check? victims' families to observe from a respectful distance. leaving everything here would be both foolish and shortsighted—]

Satoru.

[a beat—and then, with the sound of suguru's footsteps picking up pace behind him:]

Satoru!

[maybe he shouldn't be so familiar; what started as an honest attempt to foster some degree of friendliness may have painted him as an unapologetic ass-kisser, and yet, as he hurries after satoru, suguru isn't quite sure what else to call his classmate. they should be on a first-name basis.

(they should be friends, of some sort.)]

That's it? [it sounds like an accusation, of sorts, which isn't made any better by suguru's choice of follow-up as he draws closer:] You don't want to try anywhere else?

[meanwhile, behind them both: suguru's curse, croaking as it hops along after them.]

[mugen]

[Under normal circumstances, the usage of his first name would remind Satoru that Suguru is a suck-up, and he'd be apt to say as much. On the heels of that unexpected touch, however, it makes Satoru uncomfortable all over again. Few people use his given name so casually; even fewer use it after making physical contact with him. Hearing Suguru say it now feels strangely intimate, despite the tone — a fact that keeps Satoru walking forward instead of immediately whirling around in response to Suguru's pointed questions.]

Why? Scared of going on your own?

[He speaks as he continues moving ahead, unconcerned about whether or not Suguru will be able to hear him. Only after he finishes the gibe does he turn around, though he doesn't plan on acquiescing to Suguru's desire to continue investigating. They've seen enough. The curse isn't anywhere nearby, and Satoru has had his fill of Suguru.

Raising his eyebrows and giving him a smile as taunting as his words, Satoru digs into his bag of konpeito and holds one up, as he had earlier.]

Su-gu-ru.

[He over-enunciates each syllable, then pulls a face to demonstrate exactly what he thinks about being on a first-name basis with someone who wants to play at friendship only when it suits him. But not, for example, when Satoru tosses him a can and invites him to share.

On the last syllable, he flicks the candy in Suguru's direction, punctuating his point.]

I'm tired of looking out for the weak.

[Including none other than Suguru himself! Weak, annoying, bad taste in drinks — there's only so much that Satoru can take. Satoru reaches into the bag again, fully intending to continue to pelt him with candy until he either leaves or chases him to the hotel. Either way would be a win!

(Except, as Satoru aims for his face, he knows that's not entirely true — and hopes that a piece of candy to the eye will piss Suguru off enough for the latter.)]

tinyurl.com/2p8sy5zn

[ascends]

[if suguru has learned anything, during their (admittedly brief) time together, it is this: satoru is a child. there is no real reason to appeal to his better judgment, for no matter the validity of the argument presented to him, he will continue to place himself first, to put his wants above others' needs—and it makes sense, in an altogether twisted way. stand atop a mountain and the surrounding area—the world as a whole—seems so small; it's difficult enough to pick out individual towns, let alone the people living in them.

but that is why suguru is here.

that is why suguru dodges the first konpeito before blocking the second, holding his hand in front of his face—because it would be easy to be like satoru. it would be easy to pretend as though nothing, no one, matters; maybe it would even be nice, ignoring the weight sitting atop his shoulders, but suguru has never sought the easy way out. protecting those who cannot protect themselves—that is his responsibility.

even if it should be theirs, but far be it from suguru to launch into yet another lecture in the middle of this street. they are what they are; suguru must deal with the hand he's been dealt, hence the press of his lips as he stares satoru down. i'm tired of looking out for the weak

(suguru thinks of stopping satoru from touching the talisman; suguru thinks of the look on satoru's face as the curse on the swing blinked back at them both, seemingly untouched by anything, everything.

suguru swallows.)

rule number one, as yaga made clear: no splitting up. no separating. they were sent to serve as a duo; they should not try to tackle anything individually—and yet, as suguru considers the other crime scenes that he has committed to memory, suguru thinks less of satoru and more of the faceless mass that is depending on them.

on them.]

...So go, then. If you think you're above this.

[this isn't how suguru envisioned entering sorcerer society. he'd thought—well. maybe it was his fault, expecting others to simply be grateful to be part of some greater whole; maybe he should have stopped to consider what it would have been like, being born into such a world as opposed to just outside of it.

alas.]

People are counting on us. [one last Look before he forces himself to turn, to shove that hand into the pocket of his pants.] I'm not scared to admit that I need more information.

[even if he's to collect it alone.]

https://tinyurl.com/75z8m2mv

[mugen]

[Satoru doesn't hesitate. This is another lesson that was drilled into him in his childhood. Hesitating to deploy his Infinity or launch an attack could cost him — or those around him. Every choice that Satoru makes, he reinforces through quick action, whether it's a decision to scuffle with his annoying classmate or reach out for a dangerous piece of paper. Satoru acts, reacts, and moves — and he does so with the conviction that he will succeed.

Watching Suguru turn around, however, Satoru finds himself on unsteady footing. The goal was to goad him into following; the plan was to finally catch a break from this mission, a chance to relax and recover from his startling lapse — from Suguru invading his Infinity. He knew better than to expect Suguru would make any of this easy — Suguru has already made it more than clear that he only cares about bolstering his image by spearheading this stupid campaign to tire themselves out before they really start on the mission — but that doesn't mean he knows what to do with the aftermath: Suguru walking away. Suguru choosing to work alone.

This is what he wanted, Satoru reminds himself — a moment's peace. A chance to go back to the hotel room and play the TV as loud as he wants. A little bit of normalcy, instead of obsessing over the fact that they're being tracked by a special grade who understands the limits of his techniques. He doesn't need to worry; when the time comes, he'll put the curse down without any trouble at all. But he doesn't resume his walk. He hesitates, watching Suguru walk away, and feels annoyed with himself for his inaction.

In an attempt to cover his indecision, he tosses another piece of candy Suguru's way, though it's halfhearted at best; the piece falls to the ground long before it reaches Suguru, bouncing along the pavement. His reply is equally lacking in energy, and belated, but still he says:]

I got all the information I need already.

[Barely a protest; barely a retort at all. But true, to some extent; Satoru isn't one for knocking on doors and hanging out around the general public. He knows what they're dealing with now, and he has a pretty good idea of what it can do. The rest is up to fighting, and that isn't happening tonight.

Still, Satoru doesn't follow, nor does he retreat. He wouldn't say that he sulks, either, but he doesn't not sulk. He simply sits right there at the entrance to the alleyway, his back against a wall, keeping tabs on Suguru's cursed energy and making sure the special grade doesn't return.

Because if it is watching them — if it is tracking their movements — it'll sense when he leaves Suguru behind. And it will probably make a move.]

Whatever.

[Grumbled to himself as he tosses aside the bag of konpeito. He looks up at the darkened sky and pretends to be very busy examining what little he can make out of the clouds above — all the while playing a game of sentry that his clan would be horrified to see. Satoru isn't meant to guard; he's meant to lead.

But they're not here to see him, and Yaga isn't here to scold him, and Suguru has already made up his mind. So here he is: The Strongest, sitting on unfamiliar ground, resolved to trail behind a classmate who shouldn't be worth his time.]