Receiving a mission
Saturo was a lot of things, but at the moment he was utterly confused, and he had good reason, too.
You see confusion was a normal thing to feel when given a mission in a foreign country. Somewhere in Asia would have been fine, where all the characters, words, meanings and traditions were more or less the same, but bloody England! Sugurus English was absolute shit! (His, on the other hand, was perfection.) Luckily for him, his confusion was share by a rather tired looking Suguru, a pissed-off Shoko, and a angry faced Yaga, who had given them this 'excellent' opportunity.
"You sure theirs no mistake in the system, Sensi?" asked Geto for what seemed the hundredth time, or maybe that had been Saturo. The confusion clouded up his thought processes.
Yaga awnsered with a annoyed huff and explained the bair minimum of "The higher ups gave you this mission. Its your job to complete it. Now shoo!"
"What we supposed to pack!?" Shouted sataru over his shoulder.
"I don't know, or care." Awnsered Yaga. Rude.
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The sun crawled over saturos skin, spreading heat wherever it hit, one thing he hated about Japanese summers. The goddamn heat, it was everywhere, outside, inside, no matter what your doing, it followed like a curse, spreading irritation over all who bothered to disturb it.
"What was that all about?" Wondered Shoko, a cigarette already taking its place on her lips.
"Dunno." Answered Suguru "Is it even allowed to send students to another country?"
Shoko, who was master of such things, answered, "They sent Nanami away to South Korea last year didn't they?"
"Yeah, but I mean to another continent and stuff"
"No clue."
"I got that, yeah."
"Hm."
They then remarked how Sataru was being strangely quite, which was annoying, he had just zoned out from there pointless conversation.
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Suguru
Exorcise, consume, exorcise, consume
Suguru wished that missions weren't mandatory. He didn't have enough energy for this. It had only been a month ago that Riko had died, and Satoru, and part of Suguru to.
The images had burnt themselves into his brain, they chased his dreams and had the audacity to turn them into nightmares (the dreams that is), and there was a constant movie in the back of his head replaying and replaying. What was worse was that everyone seemed to just move on, forget that there had once been a girl, who had lived, breathed and died to young. And Geto was to bloody fragile for another mission that involved forming connections and getting attached, and also to fragile for another mission with Gojo, were he would have to be reminded that now it was only Gojo who was the strongest.
Geto couldn't help but feel abandoned. He had hardly spoken to any of his classmates since the incident, he stayed in his room and watched the fan go round and round, and when given a mission, he would go.
Exorcise, consume, exorcise, consume
It was an endless cycle. Over and over again.
Exorcise, consume, exorcise, consume
The worst was that no one,except him, would know.
The taste of a curse, the bile itching him constantly from the back of his throat, the routine. it had been unpleasant before, but it was unbearable now, the taste of the monsters he was forced to swallow, unable to sleep in fear of nightmares, unable to think with the words repeating themselves over and over, and not just one set of words but multiple, all overlapping themselves, some his own thoughts, some, others.
He was alive, but had never felt so dead. He was haunted, and it confused him why no one else was as impacted, there was something wrong with him, that much was obvious.
Geto arrived in his room, thankful for the escape from the summer heat, and stared aimlessly into his wardrobe, his mind visiting places like:
What should I pack?
Gojo would know.
Maybe I should ask him?
No. To much effort.
But he could help...
Maybe. But he would never understand.
Goddamn brain. He was supposed to be concentrating on what to pack, his internal feelings should get there own fucking suitcase and leave his alone.
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The higher ups consisted of a bunch of crazy bitches doing whatever the fuck crazy old people did.
And apparently sending a bunch of kids to a foreign country was one of there favourite hobby's, at least they weren't complete psychopaths, and gave them one month to prepare for a year of hell.
The problem is that Geto had to learn an entire fucking language in one month, and even though English was considered to be easy, sitting in front a bunch of English textbooks that were apparently for 11 year-old's, Geto wasn't so sure anymore.
There were a bunch of large words Geto hadn't even heard of in Japanese, so how on earth was he meant to learn them in English when he just learnt what 'because' was. (he had previously thought it was a type of flower)
So now, instead of going outside and enjoying the hideous sunshine, Gojo and Shoko were trying to help him understand some textbooks which were filled to the brim with absolute fucking nonsense.
"what on earth is a 'Niffler'?" muttered Satoru.
"huh" Suguru leaned over Satoru to look the text book he was holding. "oh, I thought it was pronounced 'Nofle'."
Silence crept out of the darkness, only to be shunned with gales of laughter erupting from Satoru, who was now clutching his stomach for dear life.
"Nofle" Gojo somehow manged to squeeze out, which caused Shoko to hit him over the head with a textbook, and also created a smile that had not shown itself for weeks, spread itself over Getos face, and for a couple moments he forgot about Riko, death, destroying the world and such, for a moment it was just him, Satoru and Shoko cracking bad jokes in a overheated room somewhere in Tokyo. And for a moment, everything was perfect.
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Before they knew it, they were on a plane, ready to go to England. (well, ready.)