"So" Geto started to say, his words dripping with a hint of menace as he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing beneath his sleeves. His eyes gleamed with an intensity that seemed to bore into the souls of Mahito and Jogo, who instinctively stiffened at his commanding presence.

"I want you here," Geto continued, his voice low and smooth as honey, "because you are better off with me than with Gojo. Let's be real, Mahito, you're struggling to keep up with the demands of your cursed energy. And as for Jogo, well, your unique abilities make you a valuable asset, but you're still wet behind the ears. I have real cursed beings to train, and that's exactly what I plan to do with you both."

Geto's gaze shifted to Mahito, his eyes lingering on the blue-haired amnesiac's pale skin. "You, in particular, are a puzzle I'd love to solve. Your heritage, your powers... it's all so intriguing. And I think you'll find that being part of my little experiment will be far more... enlightening than anything Gojo has to offer."

Mahito's face darkened at Geto's words, his eyes flashing with indignation. "Owah owah! I didn't agree to be a training subject!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in protest.

Geto's smirk grew wider, his lips curling up like a cold, dead snake. "Well, you are now," he purred, his voice dripping with malice.

As Geto's words spilled out like venom, his lips curled into a smile that seemed to swallow the entire room. His eyes, like dark pools of oil, glinted with amusement, as if daring you to resist his proposal. "What do you say, love?" he purred, his voice a low, sultry whisper that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze, a piercing glare, locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your skin prickle with unease.

You felt a flicker of annoyance, but you couldn't help but be drawn to the charismatic sorcerer's words. His smile seemed to hypnotize you, making you feel like you were drowning in a sea of uncertainty. Your eyes dipped, a sigh escaping your lips as you struggled to break free from his grasp.

"I will still go to the school," you said, your voice laced with a hint of defiance. You stood up straight, trying to assert your independence, but Geto's gaze never wavered. It was as if he could see right through you, knew exactly what you were thinking.

"I'm not about to abandon my friends for you, Geto," you continued, trying to sound bold, but your words trembled slightly as you spoke them. Geto's smile never wavered, but a calculating glint crept into his eyes, as if he was already plotting his next move.

You dipped your head, a determined glint sparked in your eyes, like a match igniting a fuse. "Let's go already," you said, your voice firm and resolute, as you adopted a battle-ready stance. Mahito's response was a sound that defied categorization - a mixture of a giggle and a sigh, like the unwinding of a rusty spring. "Oh, fine," he muttered, his eyes rolling heavenward as he launched himself at you, his hands outstretched like claws.

Your reflexes were swift and deadly, your fingers snatching at his wrists with the precision of a predator. Fingers digging deep into his skin, you hurled Mahito at the cobblestone wall with all your might. Time seemed to slow as he soared through the air, his body a blur of blue hair and white eyes. The sound of his impact echoed through the alleyway, a dull thud that sent shockwaves through the air.

Mahito's form hit the wall with a soft "Ow," his limp body crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His eyelids fluttered, a faint squawk escaping his lips as he struggled to regain consciousness. The cobblestones seemed to stain his cheek with a crimson smile, the only indication of the brutal impact. A menorah of tiny bruises would eventually blossom on his skin, a map of the battle's intensity.

As your fingers wrapped around Mahito's wrist, a spark of electricity seemed to crackle through the air. You lifted him up, and for an instant, their gazes locked, a fleeting understanding passing between them. "For a cursed spirit, you're good at fighting, Mahito," you said, your voice a gentle melody that belied the undertones of menace.

Mahito's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and indignation as he launched himself at you, fist flying towards your chin. But you were quicker, darting to the side with an ease that seemed almost... supernatural. Ducking beneath the blow, you let out a low chuckle, the sound husky and wild.

As you straightened up, a wicked grin spread across your face, revealing the sharp fangs that lurked beneath your lips. "But not good enough," you purred, eyes glinting with a mischievous light, and Mahito felt a shiver run down his spine.

As you and Mahito exchanged blows, the alleyway seemed to grow darker, the shadows deepening into a living, breathing entity that fed on the chaos. The air was heavy with the scent of ozone and sweat, the sound of your panting and Mahito's ragged breathing the only soundtrack.

Geto watched with an unblinking gaze, his eyes gleaming like polished onyx as he surveilled the battle unfolding before him. His expression remained impassive, his face a mask of neutrality, yet the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a subtle, provocative smile.

On the fourth or fifth minute, perhaps, he finally decided to intervene, his voice booming through the alleyway like a crack of thunder. "Okay, that's enough. You're gonna kill each other." The words hung in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down by the mysterious sorcerer.

As he turned to face you, his grin grew wider, the edges of his mouth curling up in a quirky, unsettling smile. "Well done, doll," he purred, his voice dripping with a dry, wry humor.黨 his words, a flicker of approval danced in his eyes, as if he were acknowledging your tenacity, your willingness to throw caution to the wind and risk everything in the heat of battle.

Your gaze met Geto's, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked once, twice, before a radiant smile spread across your face. "Thank you, Geto," you said, your voice husky and sweet as honey, as you straightened up to your full height.

The gesture was almost imperceptible, a flicker of independence, but it was enough to send a shiver down Geto's spine. His eyes never left yours as you spoke, his expression unreadable, yet his lips curled upward in a subtle, approving smile.

"Ah, yes," he said, his voice dripping with a dry, wry humor, as if he were reminiscing about a private joke. "I expected as much."

With a nod, you turned and strode away, your footsteps echoing through the alleyway as you disappeared into the bright sunlight that spilled through the narrow passageway. As you emerged into the open air, you spread your arms, and your body began to glow with a soft, ethereal light.

The air seemed to ripple and shimmer as you took to the skies, your form growing indistinct as you vanished into the clouds.

The echoes of footsteps faded into the darkness, leaving Jogo alone in the dimly lit hallway. His sigh was a heavy, listless thing, like a boulder tumbling down a mountain. "Those punks are getting stronger with each generation," he muttered to himself, his voice a low, melancholy rumble.

As he spoke, his eyes drifted toward Geto, who stood across from him, his frame seeming to absorb the shadows like a living creature. Jogo's gaze lingered on the sorcerer's face, searching for any hint of truth, any glimmer of vulnerability. But Geto's eyes only narrowed, a flicker of annoyance dancing in their depths.

"You sure you don't want to fuck her?" Jogo asked, his voice dripping with skepticism, like a slow trickle of oil seeping through the cracks of a worn stone. "Is that really why you want to train her?" The words hung in the air, heavy as the silence that followed.

Geto's growl was a low, menacing rumble, like thunder on a summer's day. "No, Jogo," he hissed, his voice a cold, dark wind. "That isn't why." The words seemed to leave his lips like a knife, cutting through the air with precision and brutality.

ogo's humming ceased, he bestowed a deliberate nod upon the cabbage-like curse at his side, the very essence of his being exuding an aura of subtle menace. "Alright then," he murmured, his voice a low, sonorous thrum, like the gentle buzzing of a thousand tiny wings. "Keep telling yourself that, but I know you better, Geto."

With that, Jogo and the other curse, their forms blurring and merging like dark, liquid smoke, stepped into the shimmering portal. The air around them rippled and distorted, as if reality itself was trying to cling to them, refusing to let them pass. The portal's mouth yawned open, a swirling vortex of colors that seemed to tempt and repel at the same time.

As they emerged on the other side, Mahito turned to Geto with an air of idle curiosity, his eyes flashing with a knowing glint. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a silky smooth hum, like a well-oiled blade sliding effortlessly through the air.

Geto's response was a mere nod, a stiff, automatic movement, as if some deep, hidden part of him was screaming in silent terror. "Yeah, don't worry," he forced out, his voice a strangled whisper, like a leaf rustling in the wind.

Mahito's smirk curled higher, a cruel, lipless smile that seemed to mock Geto's very soul. "You do want to fuck her, then," he said, his words dripping with an oily, smooth malice, like a snake slithering through the grass.

Geto's eyes went wide, his airway constricting in shock, as if he'd been slapped with a cold, wet rag. "What? No!" he spluttered, his voice a panicked gasp, like a fish flailing on the surface of the water.

Mahito's laughter echoed through the air, a low, husky chuckle that seemed to dance on the wind, like a lazy cat stalking its prey. "Oh, you worry too much, Geto," he taunted, his words dripping with a sly, insidious malice, like a slow-acting venom coursing through Geto's veins. "I'm sure she wants to have her pussy bruised by your cock too," he cooed, his voice a silky smooth whisper, like a summer breeze rustling the leaves of a forbidden fruit.

Mahito's mischievous grin seemed to crackle with electricity, like a conjurer's wand sparking with dark magic. He patted Geto's shoulder with a familiarity that bordered on the possessive, his touch sending shivers down Geto's spine like a winter breeze on a cold, dark night. "But just so you know, I get it—she's a beauty," he murmured, his eyes glinting with a knowing light, like a gemstone reflecting the subtle glow of a moonlit night.

With that, Mahito stepped away, his departure leaving Geto standing there, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his world collapsing around him like a house of cards in a hurricane's path. Geto's mind was a jumble of ragged emotions, like a tangled web of faulty wiring, as he struggled to shove his feelings back down, like a desperate attempt to suffocate a scream in his throat.