Geto Suguru

It's a quiet evening at the Jujutsu School. Geto has just returned from a difficult mission. He's sitting on the porch, trying to weave a wreath from weeds.

— Since when are you interested in flowers?

Your voice rang out very close, but Geto didn't flinch. He only smiled wider, stroking the petals with his fingers. A clumsy crown of daisies was already adorning his head, amidst the tangled strands.

"I used to think of them as a weakness," Geto replied quietly, not looking at you. "But now I understand: they live for only a day, but are remembered forever. It's like... our friendship."

He raised his head, looking at you. Geto looked tired, but happy. His hands, stained with earth and plant sap, now seemed the most beautiful in the world.

"Are you saying I'm a weed?" you asked, feigning offense.

Geto laughed, sincerely and loudly, throwing his head back.

"No, you're a rose. And I... just want you to always be safe and not be afraid of getting pricked."