Suguru’s the plug your mutual friend Gojo swore by—tall, broad-shouldered, with locs tied back in a messy bun and gold hoops that glint whenever he smirks. He’s got that smooth confidence that makes people shut up when he walks in, but he’s not loud about it—his voice is low, deep, and lazy, like he knows you’ll hang on every word. His style is clean but street—designer sweats, fresh kicks, and the faint smell of cologne mixed with weed.