An Unofficial Record of Gojo Satoru (as Told by His No. 1 Simp)

by Anonymous

Summary:

I woke up in Michiru Isagi’s body, with no memory of who that is or how I got here. All I know is that I’m now a first-year at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and my cursed technique can buff others through physical contact. It’s not flashy, but it seems to excite a lot of people especially a certain white haired blue eyed boy.

This is my unofficial record of Gojo Satoru.

 

***

So this was supposed to feature some Geto x Reader as well, but I decided not to, because I want happiness for all of them. So instead I’m going to make an OC (another x reader) specifically for Geto. Please look forward to it.

Chapter 1: New World

I always knew my obsession with Gojo Satoru was going to get me killed one day. I just didn’t think it would be this literal.

Let me backtrack a little.

I was your average girl in her early twenties, perpetually broke but somehow always finding the money to pre-order Gojo merch like my life depended on it. My room was a shrine of blind-box acrylic stands, wall scrolls, and a suspiciously large dakimakura I swore was “just for comfort”. And maybe, just maybe, I had daydreamed about him pinning me to a wall more than once. Don’t judge. Parasocial relationships are cheaper than therapy.

Anyway, the night it happened, I was outside a Family Mart at 8:30 PM, watching YouTube with a family-sized bag of chips in hand. Toho Animation had just dropped the announcement for JJK Season 3, and like any unhinged fan, I nearly threw my phone across the street from excitement. Culling Game arc, baby and hopefully Shinjuku Showdown arc where Gojo comes back.

Of course, I had to keep updating my friends on all social media, switching between Whatsapp, Reddit, Discord, Twitter, and shady leakers on Telegram. And that’s when Truck-kun made his move.

One honk, one blinding pair of headlights, and suddenly my phone was airborne, my chips scattered like confetti. The last coherent thought in my head before impact was:

“Oh god, I’m going to die in a Gojo t-shirt that says ‘Strongest Daddy.’”

Then, nothing.

Suddenly, a voice boomed from my left.

“…This is Isagi Michiru. She’ll be joining the first-year class from today onward.”

Wait. What?

I blinked against the light, and when my vision cleared, I wasn’t staring at asphalt or hospital ceilings. I was standing. Upright. My hands were folded politely in front of me like I was giving some awkward school speech.

And more importantly-- that voice!

My head snapped toward the man beside me. Sunglasses. Muscular build. Beard. A uniform that was way too familiar.

“Principal Yaga...?” I whispered.

The class stared.

My jaw nearly unhinged. I wasn’t dead. Well—actually, I was definitely dead. I had been truck-kun’d while trying to check for a trailer, which was about as peak-fangirl death as you could get. But now… now I was in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen???

And not just anywhere. I was standing in front of Nanami and Haibara’s class. Haibara freaking Yuu. Nanami Kento in his student days.

I had woken up in their classroom.

"Principal? Well whatever," Yaga sounded confused but his hand rested heavy on my shoulder, grounding me into this reality. “Introduce yourself, Michiru.”

Michiru. That wasn’t my name. My brain lagged, glitching at the sound. I looked down at my hands—smaller, slimmer, different. A stranger’s body.

Somehow, I managed to bow. “Uh-- I’m Michiru. Please, uh… take care of me?”

Of course there was only silence, because they look as confused as I did. Why the hell did I end my sentence in a question?

Then Haibara grinned wide, clapping his hands together. “Nice to meet you, Michiru-chan! My name is Haibara Yuu, and this is Nanami Kento!” His energy was so bright it could’ve powered Tokyo.

Nanami, sitting beside him, gave the most polite nod known to mankind.

And me? I was screaming internally. Because somewhere in this school, alive and real, was Gojo Satoru. My favorite character. My problematic blorbo. My long-time daydream fuel. My husband, and boyfriend in several smut fanfics I definitely wasn’t proud of reading.

Holy crap.

“I hope we'll get along,” Haibara finished.

Yaga-sensei clapped his massive hands together, like the sound of two tree trunks slamming. “Okay, now that we’re over with the introduction. The next period is physical training, so after you change into your training outfit, I want you guys to take Michiru to the field.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara piped up cheerfully, practically bouncing in his chair.

“Dismissed,” Yaga finished, and then he lumbered out of the room, leaving behind that oppressive air only teachers who could probably crush you with a pinky carried around.

For a moment, the classroom was quiet—until Haibara turned to me with his boyish grin. “Usually we just change in the classrooms, since it’s just us guys, but since we have a girl in the class now…” He trailed off, scratching his cheek awkwardly. “I guess we should go to the changing room to change.”

“Oh,” I blinked, clutching my bag. “Uh… I don’t even know if I have my outfit with me…”

Nanami’s flat stare cut through me instantly. “What are you talking about? Your bag looks like it carries clothes.”

I froze, looked down at the suspiciously stuffed bag, and slowly opened it. My eyes widened. “Oh wow, you’re right—how’d you know?”

Nanami sighed. Deeply. Like the sigh of someone who already regretted being assigned to babysit me for the rest of eternity.

Haibara chuckled nervously, steering us down the hall. “Well, anyway, the changing room’s this way. Don’t worry about it, Michiru-chan. We’ll leave you some space.”

The boys stopped outside the door. Haibara gave me a thumbs-up. “Okay, we’ll leave you here. If you’re done, just wait for us, okay?”

“Alright,” I nodded, stepping inside.

The changing room was empty and surprisingly clean. I set my bag down and carefully pulled out the uniform. My brows shot up.

It wasn’t a stiff training outfit like I’d imagined. Instead, it was… cute. Painfully cute. A long-sleeved pastel-pink tracksuit top, paired with a matching mini skirt that had shorts underneath. Almost sporty idol-core.

I slipped it on and moved toward the mirror, catching my reflection.

“…Not what I would usually wear,” I admitted to myself, tugging at the hem of the skirt. But then I turned a little to the side, saw how the pink compliments the skintone of this body, how the skirt twirled just enough when I moved. My lips curled upward against my will. “Not gonna lie… this does suit this body.”

I put my hands on my hips and studied myself a little longer. My reflection looked confident, girlish, and feels toned. It wasn’t me, the real me that had died in the middle of crossing the street, phone in hand to check the JJK season 3 announcement. It was Michiru Isagi, whoever that is.

I tried to remember who exactly I was, but I can't really access the body's memory. I only remember what I've experienced, which is odd. Don't people who get transmigrated usually have the body's memories?

The absurdity of it hit me all over again. From Gojo posters taped on my bedroom ceiling to this. Alive. In Jujutsu High.

And worse? I couldn’t even fangirl about it properly because somewhere in this timeline Gojo was real, breathing, and eventually going to show up in front of me.

“Oh my god,” I muttered to my reflection. “If I meet him like this, I can’t simp too hard or I’ll actually die a second time. I have to play it cool.”

My reflection stared back at me like it knew I was lying.

When I stepped out of the changing room, Nanami was waiting right outside, arms crossed like a security guard. He was wearing a plain white tee and long black pants. His gaze flicked to me for half a second before looking away, expression unreadable as always.

“Oh, Nanami-san,” I whispered, startled to see him still there. Why did I whisper? Like I’d just been caught sneaking candy into a movie theater.

He gave the faintest nod, like acknowledging my existence was already extra effort.

A moment later Haibara came bursting out of the next stall, tugging at his black tracksuit. “Oh, I’m the last? Welp, let’s go then!” His energy was enough to make up for Nanami’s total lack of it.

We walked out toward the field, the late morning sun warm against my exposed legs. It felt surreal, the way this body just fit into this place.

“So, uh… what do we do here?” I asked, hoping the answer wouldn’t involve me collapsing in front of the entire class.

“Physical training,” Nanami said, already sounding tired. “We should start with a few laps.”

“Don’t forget to stretch first,” Haibara added brightly, pulling one leg up behind him and wobbling slightly.

So we stretched, and I was just beginning to feel like maybe I could blend in as “normal jujutsu girl transfer student” when it happened.

“Eh~? My eyes observe something peculiar.”

The voice coming from above and outside the field was playful, sing-songy, smug. A voice I’d heard a thousand times in anime clips and YouTube edits.

“Something pink,” the voice continued, dramatically curious.

Another voice followed, calm and a little amused. “I heard there’s a new student in the first year.”

I froze mid-stretch, arms locked above my head. Every muscle in my body went rigid. My heart plummeted into my stomach.

I didn’t need to look. I knew.

I knew.

Gojo Satoru. And with him was probably...Ieiri Shoko!

Holy mother of merch stands. Was it really him?! My ears wouldn't lie to me though, all those years simping after him had honed my skills for recognizing the very being that is Gojo Satoru.

My brain went white noise. The Gojo body pillow I used to sleep next to? The limited-edition acrylic stand I paid international shipping for? The countless… questionable daydreams I’d had about him? All of them came rushing back at once like a montage designed to kill me a second time.

I couldn’t look. If I looked, I’d combust.

I kept my eyes glued to the ground, pretending to be very interested in stretching my calves. If I just didn’t look, maybe I could survive this.

“New student? Who?” That calm, steady voice--that must be Geto.

“Let’s introduce ourselves?” Shoko suggested casually.

My stomach flipped. No. No no no. Don’t come closer. Don’t—

“Ah, Gojo-senpai! Ieiri-senpai! Geto-senpai!” Haibara’s voice lit up with excitement.

Traitor!!!

I still refused to turn around, even though my entire body was screaming in awareness. Their footsteps approached, casual, unhurried, but somehow heavy with importance.

“Haibara, Nanamin,” Gojo’s voice was lazy, sing-songy, every syllable dripping with that too-cool confidence I’d memorized from countless episodes. “You guys should introduce your new friend to us!”

“Sure!” Haibara said without hesitation, and then-- like the world’s most cruel person ever-- he grabbed my arm and gently tugged me forward. “C’mon, let’s introduce you to the seniors.”

I wanted to die again. A truck was preferable. A bus. Hell, a meteor. Anything.

“These are the second graders,” Haibara began proudly. “This is Gojo Satoru-senpai, this is Ieiri Shoko-senpai, and this is Geto Suguru-senpai.”

I looked up.

And oh my god.

He was real.

Gojo Satoru in person wasn’t just good-looking. He was unfair. Taller than I’d ever imagined even when he's in highschool, his shoulders broad, his frame sharper in real life than any animation could capture. His uniform sat loose on his body, but you could still tell that he was built. His hair was impossibly white, not fake-bleach white, not wig white, but naturally perfect. Like snow that had texture and weight and still somehow looked soft.

And then—those eyes. Hidden behind his dark as hell round sunglasses, but I knew. I knew they were there. My brain short-circuited imagining them, too bright for mortals like me.

My jaw had dropped. I was gaping at him like a goldfish. No words came out.

Shoko tilted her head, as she smiled. “Looks like someone has a fan.”

That snapped me back. My soul slammed the emergency button, and my mouth moved before my brain could stop it.

“I-I-I-I’M A BIG FAN!”

I bowed so fast it must have looked like I folded like a chair.

And then, in a burst of sheer panic-fueled idiocy, I thrust my hand out. “N-Nice to meet you, Gojo-senpai!”

He blinked, then chuckled, and oh my god his laugh was exactly like I remembered. He took my hand in his, a warm, firm grip that made my knees lock.

“Oh, a fan?” he teased.

I nodded violently, still shaking his hand. “I will never wash my hand!”

There was silence. A long, suffocating silence.

Then Shoko snorted. Geto was laughing alongside her. Haibara tried to cover his mouth, his shoulders shaking. Even Nanami turned his face away, sighing heavily as though he’d just given up on me entirely.

Gojo tilted his head, still holding my hand. His smile widened, lazy and mischievous. “Well,” he said softly, “I don't mind another handshake session.”

My soul left my body.

 

Chapter 2: Suppressed Blue

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this new life, it’s that information is both my best weapon and my biggest headache.

The name of the person I'm occupying -- Michiru Isagi-- wasn’t just some random roll of the reincarnation dice. No, apparently this body belonged to someone with pedigree. According to the whispers of my classmates, and a few blunt explanations from Haibara, the Isagis were a relative of the Inumaki clan. Yes. That Inumaki clan. The one famous for their cursed speech technique.

Which meant, technically, I was related to Inumaki Toge. Cousin, to be exact. Cousin to the boy himself.

I still didn’t remember a single thing about Michiru’s life. Not her childhood, not her family, not her favorite food. For all intents and purposes, I was a soul stuffed into a well-toned stranger’s body, with all the existential horror that implied. The only reason I even knew about the clan ties was because Haibara was the kind of guy who couldn’t keep anything to himself, and Nanami didn’t bother to stop him.

Still, some things about this body were undeniable. Whoever Michiru was, she had trained. I’d caught myself in the mirror enough times to know I wasn’t dealing with my old, desk-job physique. This body was lean, compact, and toned, the kind of build that came from years of drills and sparring. My legs had muscle definition I’d never dreamed of, and my arms didn’t jiggle in ways I was depressingly familiar with back on old Earth.

But here’s the catch: having the body didn’t somehow magically make me good at fighting. Training wheels or not, my brain was still me, someone whose closest brush with combat was button-mashing Tekken. When I held a stance, my muscles knew where to place my weight, but my timing was trash. When I threw a punch, my fist landed, sure, but not with the kind of precision Haibara or Nanami had.

What did come naturally was movement. Dodging, weaving, slipping out of reach. I wasn’t a powerhouse bruiser; I was more like a rabbit darting between trees. It wasn’t something I consciously decided. My body just did it. Like a muscle memory from Michiru’s old life bleeding into mine.

As for my cursed technique… well, that was the other headache. From what little I’d tested-- and by tested, I mean flailed awkwardly in the training yard-- I wasn’t like the Inumakis. No cursed speech, no special words. Instead, my technique seemed to spread. To amplify.

Haibara had been my first guinea pig. A casual touch on the shoulder from me in training, and suddenly his punches carried just a bit more force than usual. His stamina lasted longer, his movements sharper. At first, we thought it was coincidence, but the more we repeated it, the clearer it became. My cursed energy seeped into others, strengthening them.

A buffer.

Not flashy, not destructive, but (hopefully) vital (that's what I told myself, at least).

Of course, the downside was obvious, I couldn’t buff myself. I was support. The cheerleader of the battlefield. The medic who couldn’t heal, but made sure her team hit like trucks.

And considering I’d already been hit by one truck, that felt cosmically ironic.

(Un)Fortunately, word spreads fast in Jujutsu High. Like, ridiculously fast. I’d only used my technique a handful of times with Haibara and Nanami during training, but apparently that was enough for the seniors to catch wind.

Which meant I suddenly found myself sitting cross-legged in the training field, three second-years standing over me like they were about to judge my worth.

Gojo, Geto, and Shoko.

The holy trinity of cool kids.

I swallowed hard, wishing I could melt into the grass.

Shoko was the first to break the silence. “So, rumor is, you can make people stronger?”

“It’s not a rumor,” Haibara cut in cheerfully, like the enthusiastic little brother he was. “She gave me super stamina during training! I felt like I could run for hours.”

"For my Cursed Technique, the lines became clearer, and my critical hit hits harder," Nanami joined in.

Shoko raised a brow, then looked down at me with mild curiosity. “Huh. That’s handy.”

Geto leaned against the wall, arms folded, his voice warm but teasing. “Handy is underselling it, Shoko. If it’s true, this girl might be the strongest support type we’ve had in years.”

“Support type,” I muttered under my breath. That was my whole fate here, wasn’t it? The human equivalent of a buff potion.

Gojo, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear. His glasses was gone today, revealing those unfairly bright blue eyes. They glittered with mischief like he already knew he was about to make me suffer.

“Well then,” he said, clapping his hands once. “Show us.”

I blinked. “What-- here? Now?”

“Of course now,” Gojo replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We can’t just hear about your power. We need to feel it.”

And that was how I ended up nervously standing in front of Shoko.

“Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles like she was about to dissect a corpse. “Let’s test it.”

I hesitated, unsure how to even apply my technique in a way useful for her. But Gojo solved that problem in the most Gojo way possible.

He flicked his finger, and nicked the skin across the back of his hand with his cursed energy. A thin line of red welled up instantly.

“Gojo--!” I squeaked.

“What?” he said with a grin, holding up his bleeding hand like it was a science project. “Shoko’s a healer. If she’s gonna feel your buff, let’s make it practical.”

Shoko sighed, long-suffering. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

But she still stepped closer, offering her arm to me. “Alright, Michiru. Boost me.”

I placed my hand lightly against her forearm. The energy connection sparked, and I pushed my cursed technique into her. At first nothing happened, but then Shoko’s entire aura sharpened, her cursed energy smoothing like a perfectly tuned instrument.

She reached for Gojo’s hand, touched the cut, and the wound closed in an instant, so fast I almost missed it.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh. That’s… efficient.”

Gojo flexed his healed fingers, whistling. “Wow. Normally she takes her sweet time. That was like-- zip, done.”

Shoko glanced at me, lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Not bad, Michiru-chan. You’re useful.”

I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. First trial survived.

Geto stepped up next. His presence was heavier, calmer. The kind of calm that could crush you if you weren’t careful. He held out his hand like a gentleman.

“This alright?” he asked.

I nodded, placing my hand in his. His skin was warm, his grip steady. The energy connection sparked immediately, surging from me into him. Unlike Shoko, Geto’s reaction was visible, his aura expanded, cursed energy swirling around him like a tide.

He smiled, boyish but controlled. “Incredible. No wonder Haibara was bouncing off the walls. Unfortunately, I can't try with my Cursed Technique right now, but I feel what it's doing to me."

And then, it was Gojo’s turn.

I should’ve been prepared. I should’ve been ready. But when he stepped forward, hands in his pockets, head tilted just slightly, I forgot how to breathe.

God, he was even better-looking up close. Taller, broader. His snowy hair caught the sunlight like spun silk, and his smile was the kind that ruined lives.

Crap, he smells so good too, this feels like torture.

“Alright, Michiru,” he said, dragging out my name in that cocky way of his. “My turn.”

I raised my hand, intending for a quick, normal touch, forearm, maybe palm-to-palm if he insisted. But apparently Gojo had other ideas.

Because instead of offering me his hand, he caught mine. Not in a regular handshake. Not even in a casual grab. No. He went straight for the intertwined fingers, locked grip, full-contact handshake.

My brain short-circuited.

It was the exact same grip he used when he humiliated Jogo in the anime. Except now it was on me. And instead of looking menacing, Gojo just looked… entertained.

“Well,” he said lightly, “shall we?”

I sputtered. “Wh--why this? Why not normal handshake like a normal person?”

“Because I’m not normal,” he replied easily, tightening his grip. “Besides, doesn’t this feel more… connected?”

Connected. Sure. That was one word for it. Another was: lethal to my sanity.

The cursed energy exchange hit me instantly, harder than with Shoko or Geto. My technique poured into him like a floodgate had been opened, and his aura, already overwhelming, multiplied. His cursed energy swelled, humming through the air, so dense I swore the ground trembled.

Shoko whistled. “That’s… strong.”

Geto let out a low chuckle. “She’s syncing well with you, Gojo.”

I, meanwhile, was internally combusting. My hand was in his hand. My fingers were locked with his. His skin was warm, his grip firm but not crushing, and he wasn’t letting go.

“W-well,” I stammered, my face burning. “Now you’ve seen it. So you can, uh...let go now, right?”

Gojo tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Let go? But it’s just getting good.”

I nearly choked on my own spit. “G-good?”

“Mhm.” He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to make my heart trip over itself as he stepped forward towards me, closing the distance more. “The longer you hold on, the stronger it gets, right? Isn’t that how it works?”

Damn it. He was right. That was how it worked. The longer the contact, the more the buff built. Which meant Gojo wasn’t just teasing-- he was actively milking my cursed technique to see how far it could go.

The more time passed, the heavier Gojo's breath became. His grip on my hand didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, like he was drunk on the rush of power spilling into him. His eyes shone unnaturally bright, pupils trembling with excitement.

“Ohhh…” His grin widened, almost manic. “I can feel it, Michiru. My energy’s--hah... overflowing. This is insane.”

“Gojo--” Geto’s tone was warning, low, but Gojo wasn’t listening.

His free hand lifted, palm open, cursed energy gathering so thickly in it that the air vibrated. My heart stuttered. I recognized the way it swirled, red sparks trying to condense, unstable and violent.

“Wait--” Shoko snapped. “Don’t tell me you’re--”

Gojo’s laugh rang out manic. “Cursed Technique Reversal… Red!”

The sphere sputtered, flickered, almost forming but then collapsed in on itself, detonating harmlessly in a fizz of cursed sparks. Gojo hissed through his teeth, exhilarated. “Tch! So close.”

But instead of stopping, he threw his head back and laughed, still high from the power boost. “Fine then! If Red still won’t form, let’s try Blue!”

The cursed energy condensed instantly in his palm, this time stable, a perfect, glowing sphere of unnatural attraction. Except it wasn’t the normal Blue I’d seen on the anime before-- it was denser, hungrier. Blue crackled with energy that felt electric. It felt like a lightning strike waiting to happen, and then-- it exploded.

“Gojo!” Geto barked, stepping forward. “You’re going too far!”

But Gojo was already swinging his arm. The orb snapped forward, slamming into a row of training dummies and sucking the air into itself.

The explosion that followed was deafening.

Three wooden dummies, the stone wall behind them, and half the roof of a practice shed simply imploded, crushed inwards before bursting apart in a roar of dust and debris.

The ground shook. The shockwave sent me stumbling back, my hand finally slipping from his grip.

Gojo lowered his hand slowly, panting, sweat dripping down his temple-- but his grin hadn’t faltered. His eyes gleamed, feral, like he was still riding the high.

“Stronger,” he whispered, flexing his fingers like he couldn’t believe it. “So much stronger. That Blue… that was at least double what I usually push out, and I was actively suppressing it.”

I stared at the ruins, my stomach dropping.

For once, Shoko wasn’t smirking. Her brows were drawn tight, her voice sharp. “You absolute lunatic. You could’ve killed someone.”

Geto’s expression was worse. Calm, but grave, shadows in his gaze as he looked between me and Gojo. “…This isn’t funny anymore, Satoru.”

And yet Gojo only laughed again, though softer this time, breathless. “Not funny? This is the best I’ve ever felt.” His eyes flicked to me, unblinking, almost too bright. “Michiru… you’re dangerous.”

The word hung in the air. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a compliment… or a warning.

“This is insane. You could turn a weakling into a monster with this. With me…” He grinned, flashing teeth. “…You make the strongest even stronger.”

My knees almost gave out. Not from exhaustion. From the fact that Gojo Satoru just held my hand like it was nothing, and looked at me like he was already plotting how to use me.

And god help me, part of me didn’t mind.

Notes:

Sorry for the inconsistency with their name, I like how Gojo and Geto sound better than Suguru and Satoru. But for Shoko, it will always be Shoko.

Chapter 3: Resolve

We were all kneeling in seiza on the dusty floor of the training field, backs straight, knees aching, hands politely folded in our laps like obedient children. The faint stench of smoke from the collapsed buildings still lingered in the air.

Across from us, Yaga-sensei stood with arms crossed, looking like he was one curse away from snapping my neck. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could feel the rage radiating off him.

Gojo, now thankfully back to his “post-high” self, decided to speak first. “So, sensei,” he began, sounding way too cheerful for someone who had just blown up part of the school grounds, “I may or may not have discovered something very fascinating today.”

Yaga didn’t say anything. Just tilted his head down slightly, the silence heavy enough to crush my soul.

Gojo pressed on anyway. “Turns out Michiru-chan’s technique, ah-- where should I start? The buff she gives? It’s nuts. I was this close to pulling off Red. Like, this close.” He pinched his fingers together, grinning. “And Blue was so much stronger than usual. I’d say at least twice as powerful. We’re talking exponential growth here, sensei. Exponential!”

I wanted to sink into the ground.

Shoko and Geto sat quietly beside him, calm and composed. Meanwhile, I was sweating bullets, caught between guilt and terror. Because the more Gojo bragged, the darker Yaga’s aura seemed to get.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. “Gojo.” His voice was low, steady, the kind of steady that made your spine tingle.

“Yes, sensei?” Gojo chirped, oblivious.

“You blew a hole in the buildings.”

“Well, technically it was more of an implosion first, then an explosion--”

“Silence.”

Gojo snapped his mouth shut, though the smile never left his face.

Then Yaga’s gaze shifted to me. I froze.

“And you, Michiru Isagi.” His voice dropped even lower. “Do you think this is a playground? Do you think your cursed technique exists so you can enable Gojo’s idiocy?”

“N-no, sir!” I yelped, bowing so fast my forehead nearly hit the ground. “I didn’t mean for him to--he just grabbed my hand! I couldn’t stop him--”

“Excuses. You could have cut and stopped your Cursed Technique, but you didn't.” Yaga straightened up, his shadow falling over me. “You are to run five laps around the field. Now.”

My jaw dropped. “Five?!”

Before I could even get up, Gojo raised a hand like an eager student. “Sensei, wait!”

Yaga’s head tilted in his direction. “…What now?”

“Michiru-chan didn’t want to do it,” Gojo said, suddenly serious. “We forced her. Me, Shoko, Geto--we’re the ones who wanted to test her technique. So if she runs, we should too.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? I didn’t force anyone.”

“Neither did I,” Geto added calmly, giving Gojo a side-eye.

But Gojo just steamrolled over them, his grin returning. “Sensei! As class representative of chaos, I demand fair punishment!”

“You are not class representative,” Yaga deadpanned.

“Still,” Gojo said brightly, “I can’t in good conscience let Michiru run alone. That would be cruel, right?”

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose. “…Fine. Michiru, Gojo, you’re both running. Shoko, Geto, you’re dismissed.”

“Eh?!” I shouted. “But--”

Shoko smirked, already standing up and dusting off her skirt. “Lucky me.”

Geto gave a small bow. “We’ll be cheering from the shade.”

And just like that, they walked off, leaving me kneeling beside Gojo, who was stretching like he’d just signed up for fun.

I stood slowly, my legs numb from sitting seiza. “…This is your fault.”

Gojo flashed me a peace sign. “Correction. This is our bonding time.”

“Bonding?! We’re being punished!”

He jogged to the edge of the field, still smiling like an idiot. “C’mon, Michiru-chan. Laps await.”

I groaned. The field was huge, the late afternoon sun still merciless, and my lungs were already crying at the thought of running even one lap. But Yaga was watching, arms crossed, and I knew arguing would only make things worse.

So I started running.

Gojo, of course, didn’t just run. He sprinted backwards for half a lap, ran circles around me, shouted encouragements like we were in a marathon. “Pick up your pace, Michiru-chan! Only four and a half more to go!”

“Unbelievable!” I wheezed.

By the third lap, my legs were jelly. By the fourth, I was seeing stars. And by the fifth, I was convinced this was how I was going to die.

Gojo, meanwhile, barely broke a sweat. He jogged easily beside me, grinning, hair bouncing with every step.

When I finally collapsed on the grass at the finish, gasping for air, Gojo plopped down next to me with a grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

I glared at him, too exhausted to form words. When I was busy catching my breath, Gojo disappeared and reappeared.

“Here,” he said casually, holding out a frosty bottle of Pocari, condensation sliding down the plastic. “For you.”

I blinked at the label. Then at the bottle. Then in horror, I noticed the cap was already off. The waterline sat halfway down.

“…Wait.” I croaked. “This… isn’t new.”

Gojo tilted his head, grin widening. “Of course not. I was drinking it.” He gave the bottle a little shake, the liquid sloshing inside. “But sharing is caring, Michiru-chan. Don’t worry, I don’t have cooties.”

My brain short-circuited.
Indirect kiss.
Indirect kiss.
Indirect kiss with Gojo Satoru.

My hands trembled as I accepted the bottle like it was some sacred artifact.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, leaning closer, “We’re friends now, right?”

I wanted to crawl into the earth. Instead, I gulped, raised the bottle, and took the tiniest, most microscopic sip of my life. Barely a drop touched my tongue, but my heart was pounding like I’d downed three energy drinks.

I shuffled awkwardly before holding it out to him.

“Here. Thanks for… um… letting me drink.”

Gojo waved it away with his usual lazy grin. “Nah, it’s fine. That’s for you.”

I froze.
Me. The proud new owner of a half-drunk Gojo Satoru Pocari Sweat.
My entire body vibrated like a phone on silent mode. (I will treasure this bottle forever. I will build a shrine. My descendants will inherit it.)

Before I could get lost in daydreams of enshrining sports drinks, Gojo leaned forward, the grin slipping into something more… serious.

“So… earlier,” he began, voice quieter now, “sorry for forcing you.”

I blinked. “Forcing me?”

“Feeling your cursed energy flowing into my body… fueling mine… it makes me... high. I’ve never felt like that before.” He let out a little laugh, but it was thin, sharp around the edges. “For once, I felt like I was actually immortal. Unbeatable. I thought I’d be able to pull Red.”

My heart skipped. Red.

Any Gojo fangirl worth her salt knew Red. In the anime, he used it like it was second nature. But this… this version of me, the one who was actually here in flesh and blood, wasn’t supposed to know that. So I tilted my head and asked softly, “Are you… having trouble with it?”

The grin faltered. He leaned back, fingers curling against his knee. For a split second, Gojo looked… human.

“I keep claiming I’m the strongest,” he admitted, voice low. “But in reality, I can’t even master my own technique. That’s kinda pathetic, right?”

The words punched a hole straight through my chest. He said it so casually, like it was a joke--but there was something raw underneath. Something only a fool would miss.

I shook my head, too fast, too desperate. “Uh… I think it’s okay. You’ll get it soon.”

His head snapped up. For once, he didn’t look smug or teasing or like he was waiting to make me the butt of a joke. He looked shocked.

Then… he laughed. Really laughed. The sound was bright, startling, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “I know you’re just saying that to be nice,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I kinda believe you.”

The warmth in my chest spread like fire. My face must’ve been tomato-red, but I couldn’t stop staring.

“Well,” he said, standing suddenly and stretching, the energy snapping right back into him. “Time probably solves everything. I’ll look forward to you doping me again, Michiru-chan!”

And with that, he bounded off across the field, waving like an idiot, shades catching the light.

I clutched the Pocari bottle to my chest.
My resolve solidified like stone.

I knew it. Gojo is the best.

Always has been. Always will be.

***

I definitely spoke too soon.

The days after that talk with Gojo were a blur of chaos. At first, I was over the moon. Gojo Satoru, my idol, my reason for breathing, was talking to me every single day. But soon I realized something: Gojo Satoru never shuts up.

He popped into my training sessions with Nanami. He stole snacks from my lunch box. He sat uninvited at my side during breaks, asking a hundred questions and making a hundred more jokes. He even started calling me nicknames I didn’t approve of.

I was his fan, yes, but this was becoming a different kind of torture.

One afternoon, I slipped away from the main building just to have some peace and quiet. I thought I had gotten away with it until a shadow stretched over me.

“Must be tough, huh.”

I looked up. “Ah, Geto-senpai? What… what do you mean?”

Geto smiled faintly, folding his arms. “Satoru is a handful. And his attention seems to be on you at the moment, so it must be tough for you.”

My shoulders sagged. “I am his fan. I should be happy he even looks my way.”

“That’s all good and well,” Geto said, his tone softer than I expected, “but don’t push yourself, ok? I know how Satoru can be. If you need a hand in stopping him, or even just someone to listen to a rant, let me know.”

I felt my throat tighten. “Ah. Y-yes. Thank you, Geto-senpai.”

He gave me a polite nod and walked away, his long hair catching the sunlight as he disappeared down the path.

I sat there, silent, hugging my knees.

Geto Suguru.

I had almost forgotten what he was like back in high school. How kind he could be. How gentle. The future I remembered was stained with cruelty. He turned his back on jujutsu society, killed so many innocents, and called only his curse user family worthy of kindness. To everyone else, he was merciless.

But here… now… he was good. He was the kind senpai who offered to lend a hand, who noticed when I was struggling.

For a moment, I let myself hope.

Maybe… just maybe… he can stay this way. Maybe he does not have to fall. Maybe I can stop his defection.

If I could give Gojo strength with my cursed technique, then maybe I could give Geto a different kind of strength. The strength to resist the path that would lead him to ruin.

I clenched my fists.

I will not let him become that man.

Chapter 4: Cursed Spirit Manipulation

The next morning, Yaga-sensei gathered us in his office. Gojo was slouching against the wall, Shoko sat with her arms crossed, and Geto stood straight with his usual composed demeanor. I was still half-asleep until Yaga’s voice snapped me awake.

“Michiru,” Yaga called, his expression unusually stern. “You’ll be going on a mission with Suguru today.”

“Eh? With Geto-senpai?” I blinked rapidly.

Yaga adjusted his sunglasses. “Yes. This is an opportunity for you to observe how he handles his technique. He’ll be dealing with the curse personally, but I expect you to assist him however necessary. Understood?”

I straightened my back and bowed. “Y-yes, sensei!”

The mission site was an abandoned shrine on the outskirts of Tokyo. The air was thick with cursed energy, the kind that clung to your skin like oil. I walked a little closer to Geto, comforted by his calm presence.

He glanced at me and chuckled. “I’m sorry that I’m not Satoru.”

I blinked. “Don’t say that, Geto-senpai. I’m thankful it’s you actually.”

That seemed to surprise him, his lips curving into a softer smile. Then, almost casually, he extended his hand toward me.

“Try doping me,” he said.

My face heated. “Please don’t call it doping. That makes it sound like I’m some kind of drug or something.”

Geto chuckled, low and warm. “Well, according to Satoru, the effect is the same. You don’t mind holding hands with me, right? This time, you should try to control the amount of buffs you give me. Hopefully I don’t end up like Satoru--high out of his mind.”

I nodded shyly, slipping my hand into his. Our palms touched, and cursed energy began to hum faintly between us. We kept walking, talking, almost forgetting that we were still holding on.

The conversation drifted to life as jujutsu sorcerers. The expectations, the burdens, the small comforts we clung to in between.

Then my curiosity slipped out. “So, Yaga-sensei told you to absorb the curse. So you’re like a... Pokemon master, yeah?”

Geto tilted his head, amused. “I wouldn’t say so, but the premise is the same. The process is much more unsavory though.”

“Is it quantity over quality? Do you just absorb every curse you find?”

“At the moment, I prefer quality,” he explained calmly. “But sometimes having quantity isn’t bad in a fight. This particular curse is apparently strong. I’d like to see how much easier it is to absorb.”

“You uh… swallow them, right?”

His brows lifted. “So you know?”

“Oh! uhhh yeah, I heard from Gojo,” I admitted, laughing nervously.

“I see.” Geto’s voice lowered. “Yes. Cursed Spirit Manipulation requires me to turn the curse into a small ball and swallow them.”

I scrunched my nose. “That… sounds disgusting.”

He laughed. “I haven’t even told you how they taste yet.”

“I can just imagine. They must taste disgusting.”

“You’re right,” he admitted with a smirk. “Every time I eat the ball, it feels like I’m swallowing a rag full of someone’s vomit.”

I looked at him, my chest tightening. “…I wish it could be better for you.”

He gave me a gentle look, still not letting go of my hand. “Maybe your technique will do something about it.”

As we both walked, the air suddenly shifted--thicker, darker.

We both stopped.

From the decrepit shrine, a groan echoed. Shadows twisted along the rotting wood, and a large curse began to unfurl from the main hall. Its body was warped and dripping, with too many eyes rolling in every direction.

“Looks like we found our target,” Geto said calmly, unrolling the cursed tool he carried.

I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “Y-yeah.”

The curse let out a screech that rattled the ground, and I realized this was no practice anymore.

This was the real thing.

The curse emerged from the shadows its body crawling with jagged limbs, mouths snapping from places no mouths should be.

“Stay back,” Geto told me, releasing my hand. The flow of my energy into him cut off at once. I nodded, stepping behind as his cursed spirits materialized--shadows flickering, grotesque shapes lunging forward.

He fought with a rhythm that was both terrifying and mesmerizing, curses tearing through curses. Then, as the target weakened, Geto moved in, his cursed energy flaring.

Time to absorb.

The monster collapsed, its body twisting and curling into a writhing knot of energy. Geto reached out, pulling it into his technique--until the knot shrank down, down, uh down... until it rested in his palm as something no bigger than a fingernail.

His eyes widened. “…What the—?”

I crept closer. “Is it supposed to be this small…?”

“No. God, no.” He stared at the tiny bead of cursed energy as he rolled it around his two fingers, his voice almost incredulous. “It’s supposed to be the size of my palm.”

“Uhhh… I don’t know what happened.”

Geto blinked at me, then at the marble-sized bead, realization dawning. “…I think I get it. Your power must have enabled me to condense it further down. The curse should still be the same… just... refined.”

Before I could respond, he popped it into his mouth. He swallowed it, then stilled, a look of stunned surprise crossing his face.

“How is it?” I asked nervously.

“…Bitter. Like medicine,” he admitted slowly. “But at least the vomit taste is gone. This is… game changing, Michiru.”

I exhaled in relief. “Well… glad it’s good?”

He smiled, brighter than I had ever seen him, and raised a hand. The new curse emerged at his call, obediently crouching at his side.

“How is it?” I asked again, awe slipping into my voice.

“As it should be,” he said confidently, the curse disappeared back into the portal like nothing happened. “Nothing seems out of place. I’m stronger. The curses are easier to absorb. Michiru... you’re really godsent.”

I couldn’t help smiling, cheeks warming at his words. “Maybe if I control my power better, I can make it taste nice. Something sweet, like… strawberry, maybe?”

Geto laughed, shaking his head. “I doubt that. But if you manage it, I’d be over the moon.”

Chapter 5: (Not) A Date in Tokyo

I woke up to sunlight spilling across Michiru Isagi’s my room, soft and warm. Michiru apparently made herself at home before the first day. Everything here was painfully girly, the kind of stuff that made my Earth brain whimper in delight and mild panic. There were fairy light and cute decorations around the wall, I didn’t even know how she put them all up by herself. Plushies were stacked in neat little piles on the shelves, and on the desk sat a collection of cute trinkets, tiny jewelry boxes, and framed photos of smiling people I didn’t recognize. It is probably her, or my family.

Her wardrobe--oh god, the wardrobe. Every outfit was meticulously coquette or stylish, pastel dresses, skirts with lace trims, long-sleeved tops with frills, coordinated shoes, and matching accessories. Michiru’s “real” self really, really liked dressing up. I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the contrast between this girly aesthetic and the body’s toned, trained muscles that a few days ago had effortlessly dodged cursed attacks.

I was more of a casual Tee and long comfy pants kinda gal, but since I don’t have time and money to buy new clothes, this would do for now. Despite my taste, again, Michiru’s body itself is really suited for all the cutesy fashion.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and paused, recalling the mission with Geto. My heart was still racing from it, and not just because of the cursed spirit we faced. The curse had been terrifying, writhing and monstrous, yet my body had been strangely calm, almost relaxed. It wasn’t bravery, I realized it was muscle memory. This body had been trained to fight, trained to survive. The fear had been entirely in my head.

And then my mind drifted, reluctantly, to the reason Geto had defected in the timeline I knew. He had been exhausted, overwhelmed by the endless tide of human curses he was forced to consume. I made up my mind already, that I should “save” Geto, but how?

Shaking off the heavy thoughts for now, I got up and headed to the cafeteria. The smell of breakfast hit me immediately; warm bread, eggs, and something sweet wafting through the air. The usual trio was already there: Gojo slouching in his seat stuffing his mouth with food, Shoko sitting primly picking her breakfast with her chopsticks, and Geto calmly finishing his food.

“Ah, Michiru-chan! Come sit with us!” Gojo called, grinning like the catastrophe he was. “So, tell me, did our little junior really enjoy her first ever mission?”

I sighed internally, forcing a polite smile. I loved Gojo, sure, but his constant teasing was distracting and, I had to admit, sometimes annoying. Still, I slid into the seat next to them.

Geto, ever calm, offered me a small piece of strawberry. “I think you might like this.”

I blinked. “Ah, thank you, Geto-senpai.”

“USUALLY THAT’S FOR ME?” Gojo exclaimed, leaning dramatically toward Geto.

“Eh? Uh, If you’d like, you can have it instead,” I offered it to Gojo

“Nah, Suguru gave it to you, it’s unfair of me to take it from you,” he was surprisingly being reasonable.

Geto gave the two of us a small smile. “Also, Suguru is fine. We call you by your first name anyway.”

“Wait! I can’t--you’re my senior!” I stammered.

“Well,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “we did spend the whole mission holding hands. I think that warrants calling each other by first names now.”

Shoko leaned back and smirked. “Ah, me too. Just call me Shoko.”

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to think. “Ehh, I want in too. You can call me Satoru, I’ll allow it. In turn, I will call you… MICCHAN!”

Geto chuckled softly. “Ah, Micchan is cute.”

Shoko clapped her hands together. “Our cute junior Micchan.”

I groaned softly, hiding my face behind my hand. “Please… just eat your breakfast, senpai…”

Gojo slammed a hand down on the table, making our plates rattle, “Also, what do you mean you guys held hands the whole mission?! Micchan, are you cheating on me?”

I froze mid-bite, toast halfway to my mouth, and nearly choked. “Cheating--what?! No! That is--” My voice cracked somewhere between indignation and panic.

Geto leaned back in his chair, perfectly calm as always, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ah… I didn’t tell you guys. So basically, we did the doping yesterday.”

“Doping?!” I sputtered, putting my toast down and glaring at both of them. “Cursed technique. Doping this, doping that. Next time, I’ll overdose you guys, so you learn!”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he leaned across the table, his blue eyes sparkling with delight, and whispered, “She shrank your balls?”

Shoko snickered quietly into her napkin, trying to hide her laugh, while Geto let out a snort, his usual calm demeanor giving way to amusement.

“Yes,” Geto said, shrugging as if this were a completely normal thing. “Literally. The ball was smaller than I expected. The taste is also better now--well, it is still bitter, but at least it is not vomit-like.”

Gojo leaned even closer, grinning like chaos incarnate. “What? So your balls taste like cu--”

“GOJO!” I shrieked, smacking his arm hard enough to make him yelp and stagger back a little. Apparently he didn’t have his infinity up and my slap connected. My cheeks were on fire, and I felt like the entire cafeteria might have turned their heads to stare at our table.

He laughed, completely unbothered, tilting his head and waggling his fingers at me. “It is Satoru! Come on, say it--Satoru-senpai!”

“Yes, yes! Satoru-senpai! There, are you happy now?” I finally gave in, throwing my hands up a little.

Gojo leaned back in his chair like a cat that had finally gotten its way, his grin obnoxiously bright. “That’s right, just like that.”

I buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t believe this. Somehow in less than twenty-four hours, I had gone from addressing them as “Geto-senpai, Shoko-senpai, Gojo-senpai” to being pushed into using their first names. Suguru. Shoko. Satoru. The sheer intimacy of it made me feel like my soul was going to short-circuit.

“Ah, Micchan,” Shoko said casually, propping her chin in her hand. “Today’s Sunday, so I’m—”

“Oh,” I blurted, straightening in my seat. “That’s right, today’s Sunday. The schedule’s been so busy, I forgot.”

Geto tilted his head slightly, his expression soft. “Do they push you first years that hard?”

Gojo slapped the table dramatically, making his empty plate clatter. “Poor you, poor you~!” He finished the last bite of toast in one exaggerated crunch.

I shook my head quickly. “Ah, no. It’s just that my mind has been very occupied.”

“That makes sense,” Shoko said. “You’re still new here. You’re probably still adapting.”

“At first it’s tough,” Geto added. His gaze was steady but kind. “So if there’s anything we can help with, feel free to talk to us, okay?”

Something warm bloomed in my chest. “…Thank you, Suguru-senpai. Shoko-senpai.”

“Anyway,” Shoko continued, stretching. “Since we’re free today, why don’t we go into the city for fun?”

“Ah… Tokyo, huh.”

I tried to keep my face neutral, but internally my brain was doing flips. Tokyo. Actual Tokyo. Anime capital. The place my teenage self back in my old world had daydreamed about endlessly. Now I was here. Actually here. Walking the streets, sitting in a café, breathing the same air—God, I was going to lose it.

“It’s a shame we can’t go with you,” Geto said with a small sigh. “A break would be great, but Satoru and I have missions.”

“Life is tough as special grade sorcerers,” Gojo said, dramatically draping himself across the table like a tragic hero. “Especially when there are only three of us.”

At that I laughed and said before I could stop myself. “Don’t you mean four?”

The table went silent.

Gojo, Geto, and Shoko all looked at me with identical expressions of confusion.

“Last I checked,” Geto said slowly, “there’s only three of us. Satoru, me, and… well, there’s another senior, but she isn’t around much. The higher-ups mostly send just the two of us.”

My stomach dropped. Crap. That was supposed to be common knowledge. Four special grades… but Yuta was still a literal kid right now, nowhere near the jujutsu world. My slip-up was a century too early.

“Eh—ahhahaha, right. I miscounted.” I waved it off with what I hoped was an airheaded smile.

Suspicion faded, and Shoko leaned back. “What about you, Micchan? What grade are you?”

“Uh… I think my ID says grade 2.”

“Eeehh?” Gojo leaned across the table. “You made us so strong, though!”

“It makes sense,” Geto cut in smoothly. “She’s inexperienced in battle. You could say her only ability is to buff others.”

Gojo pouted. “Still! Micchan, you should train to fight too. That way you can be strong on your own.”

“Or,” Shoko offered, “maybe just stay behind with me. Safer, easier.”

“Well,” I said carefully, “being stronger physically would be convenient. At least enough to protect myself.”

“Self-defense, huh,” Geto murmured, as if considering something.

“You should train with Suguru,” Gojo suggested brightly. “He’s a martial arts master.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Geto agreed. “If you’re interested.”

“I think I might take the offer. But for now, let’s enjoy Tokyo, Shoko-senpai!”

“Yay,” Shoko smiled, actually smiling. “We’ll go shopping and café hopping. It’ll be fun.”

“Ah—would it be okay if I ask Haibara and Nanami too?”

“Sure,” Shoko smiled. “The more the merrier.”

After the breakfast and a little dressup session, I finally reached the front gate. To my surprise, Shoko-senpai was already there, leaning against one of the torii with a cigarette balanced between her fingers. She looked so effortlessly stylish in her long beige coat, turtleneck, and jeans that for a moment, I felt even more self-conscious about my outfit.

“Oh, that’s cute,” she said, pointing at me.

I tugged at the hem of my cardigan. I was wearing a pink-and-white one-piece dress, absolutely overloaded with pearls and bows, with a knitted cardigan over it. It screamed girly, and honestly, I didn’t want to wear it outside, but it was either this or something even more frilly.

“I… don’t have anything else to wear,” I admitted, cheeks warm.

Then I frowned. “Also! Shoko-senpai, smoking is bad, you know.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under her heel.

“Littering is also bad,” I scolded, quickly picking it up.

She laughed when I handed it over. “Fine, fine. Remind me to toss this in a bin later.” She tucked it into her coat pocket.

“Hi everyone!!”

Haibara’s voice boomed from the path. He came running over—and behind him was Nanami. My eyes widened.

“Wait, Nanami-kun?” Shoko tilted her head. “I thought you didn’t want to come?”

“That’s what the text said,” I murmured, showing her my phone.

Up close, Nanami looked exactly as irritated as his message had sounded. Haibara, on the other hand, looked smug.

“I forced Nanami to come! Hahaha!”

Nanami sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s just go. The faster we start, the faster we finish.”

Tokyo was dazzling. We started in Shibuya, where neon lights flashed even in the middle of the day and waves of people crossed the streets like rivers. Haibara bounced from storefront to storefront, pointing out sneakers, posters, and figures like a kid at a festival. Shoko strolled calmly, hands in her pockets, and Nanami followed behind with the look of someone who wanted to be anywhere else.

We ducked into a café Shoko picked. It was beautiful inside—pastel walls, marble tables, desserts that looked like art. My parfait came topped with strawberries and edible glitter, so pretty I almost didn’t want to touch it. Shoko ordered black coffee, of course. Haibara somehow convinced Nanami to share pancakes, and when Shoko snapped a picture, Nanami muttered, “Delete that,” without even looking up.

Shopping came after. Shoko tried on oversized sunglasses with a grin, Haibara strutted around in ridiculous jackets, and Nanami ended up carrying most of the bags, his patience visibly thinning. I tried to find something simple, but somehow every rack my eyes landed on was filled with lace and pastel bows.

“Cute suits you, though,” Shoko whispered as she passed me.

My ears burned immediately.

We finished at the arcade. Haibara challenged me to a racing game and lost so badly he demanded a rematch. Shoko was a beast at air hockey, and to my shock, Nanami mastered the claw machine like it was an actual mission. He called it a waste of money, but still handed out the plushies he won with this stiff, awkward kindness.

By the time the sun dipped behind the skyline, my feet hurt, my arms were heavy with bags, but my heart felt light.

“This feels good once in a while, right?” Shoko approached me from behind. “Should we do it again next time?”

“Of course! This was really fun. I’m glad I took the time to come with you, and thank you for inviting us, Shoko-senpai,” I mentioned.

“You don’t need to be so formal,” she laughed, “And this is more of a long needed holiday for us anyway,” She looked towards the crepe stall in front.

“We’ll be quite busy after this,” Shoko continued, “Unfortunately, summer is approaching. That’s when we get the busiest.”

I tried to recall Panda’s explanation from the anime, of how summer is one of the busiest months for a Jujutsu Sorcerer due to the number of depression and cursed spirits that appear.

“Here, the crepes!” Haibara and Nanami approached the both of us, each carrying two crepes.

“Ah, mine is Chocolate Strawberry,” I said, reaching out for the one in Haibara’s hand.

“This one is,” Nanami handed it to me instead.

“Oh, thanks, Nanami.”

“This one is… Choco Banana. Should be yours, senpai.” Haibara said before Shoko thanked him.

“By the way, I forgot to ask you this, Micchan,” Shoko faced your way, “Phone number.” She held out her phone towards you, asking you to punch in the numbers into her contacts.

I filled my number and name quickly with one hand, while the other held the crepe. 

“There, Micchan with a heart,” I said, smiling cheekily at him.

“Thanks,” Shoko said as she checked the screen. Then she looked up at me. “Is it okay if I share this number with the others?”

I blinked. “Others?”

She smirked. “Satoru and Suguru. You don’t have their contact, right? I’ll tell them to save your number just in case.”

For a second, my heart thumped louder than it should have. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement, but I smiled anyway. “Ahh, sure. That’d be great.”

Shoko slipped her phone back into her pocket with a little wave. “Good. I’m sure they’ll contact you as soon as they get it. Get ready to be bothered.”

I laughed softly, though my chest felt strangely tight. The day had been ordinary, even silly at times, but hopefully this will motivate all of us for the bitter things to come.

 

 

 

Notes:

I typed the second half of the chapter on my phone and the emdash worked, but my laptop just refused to get the emdashes right. sorry for the inconsistency!

Chapter 6: Early Summer

Summer came quicker than I expected. Right now, the late afternoon sun burned warm over the training field, staining the sky a hazy orange. The cicadas cried their stupid mating cry, as if mocking us for sweating buckets while they enjoyed their summer.

Ugh, it’s so hot and we have to train?

Geto stood at the center, arms folded loosely across his chest. The oversized black t-shirt hung off his shoulders in a way that made him look deceptively relaxed, his wide-legged balloon pants swishing faintly when he shifted his stance. His expression was unreadable, calm as a still pond.

“Three against one,” he said, tone steady, almost teacherly. “Do not hold back. If you cannot even touch me, then there’s nothing to learn.”

Beside me, Nanami tugged at his plain white t-shirt, his stance neat, rigid, and efficient. Every line of his posture screamed focus. On my other side, Haibara was bouncing in his black tracksuit, grinning so widely his eyes nearly disappeared. He looked like a dog about to be let off the leash.

And then there was me, in my new grey tracksuit without any ridiculous pearls and bows. My fists felt clumsy just being raised. It was a good thing that I spent some money that I got from the previous mission on this.

“Don’t worry, Michiru!” Haibara whispered out of the corner of his mouth, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’ll get him together! It’ll be fine!”

“Y-Yeah…” I nodded, even though the sweat running down my spine already knew better.

Geto raised one palm lightly. “Begin.”

Haibara exploded forward first, a black blur against the dust. He swung fast, reckless, his fist cutting through the air toward Geto’s jaw. Nanami followed a split-second later, his movements sharper, aiming to flank from the right. 

Holy shit, how am I meant to keep up with them. What do I even need to do? I stopped trying to think and just go for it. My feet scrambled to catch up, arms raised.

But Geto moved with barely a shift. He ducked under Haibara’s swing, redirected Nanami’s strike with the smallest twist of his wrist, and with his other hand brushed against my sleeve—too light to even count as a hit. The next thing I knew, the ground kissed my back, my lungs wheezing from the impact.

“Too slow, Michiru,” Geto said calmly, standing exactly where he had started.

“What the hell happened—? I can’t even see the attack!” I groaned, sitting up. My hair was full of dust.

Haibara landed face-first into the grass a second later. He popped up, laughing like he hadn’t just eaten dirt. “This is the best training ever!”

Nanami scowled, straightening his shirt with dignity. “You are toying with us.”

“That is the point of training,” Geto replied, serene as ever. His dark eyes slid to me, then back to Nanami. “Adapt. Work together. Again.”

On the sidelines, Gojo’s voice cut loud across the field. He was sitting cross-legged on the wooden bench, a towel draped lazily around his neck, his round black sunglasses glinting in the light. His white hair stuck up like he hadn’t even bothered to comb it. Beside him, Shoko slouched forward, cigarette between her fingers, smoke curling lazily around her face.

“I am reversing it!” Gojo shouted, slapping his palm against a shallow cut on his forearm. Cursed energy sparked blue and fizzled, the wound glowing faintly before reopening. “See? Energy in, wound closes, everybody claps!”

Shoko flicked her ash without looking at him. “That’s not reverse. You’re just force-feeding cursed energy into your skin.”

“It’s the same thing!” he barked back, sunglasses slipping down his nose.

“If it were the same thing,” Shoko said flatly, “your arm wouldn’t still be bleeding.”

I almost laughed, but Geto’s voice snapped me back: “Focus.”

This time Nanami took the lead. His eyes narrowed, calculating, and he darted forward with mechanical precision. Haibara looped wide, circling to flank. I tried to time my movement between them.

Geto intercepted Nanami with a graceful sidestep, his elbow knocking aside Haibara’s attempt to grapple him. His palm turned, catching my wrist before I even realized I’d overextended. He swept my legs in one smooth motion.

Dust puffed under my back again. “Ow—!”

Haibara went down next, rolling into the dirt and laughing again. Nanami grit his teeth, his breath heavy, eyes sharp.

“May I use my weapon?” he asked suddenly, his voice tight with frustration.

I stopped in my tracks and my head shot up. “Wait—you have your weapon with you?!”

Nanami glanced at me as if the question itself was absurd. “I always carry it.”

From under his t-shirt, he drew out what looked like a cleaver, the blade wrapped in cloth. My jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Oh my god, that’s the blunt cleaver?! Can I see? Please? I just—let me hold it, just once—”

Nanami blinked. “…Are you serious right now?”

“Yes! I’m so serious!” I clasped my hands together. “Do you know how iconic that weapon is?!”

Haibara, of course, laughed himself sick. “Michiru! We’re supposed to be fighting!”

Geto’s lips quirked faintly. “Don’t forget you’re in the middle of battle,” he said, dark eyes gleaming. “Or else…”

Before I could even squeal about the cleaver, Geto moved.

He surged forward for the first time, no longer the still pond but a current. Nanami barely had time to lift his cloth-wrapped blade before Geto’s palm pressed against the flat side, twisting his stance off-balance. Haibara lunged in, but Geto pivoted, catching him by the collar and flipping him over his shoulder. I yelped, scrambling back as his shadow fell over me.

“Eyes up, Michiru.”

I threw a clumsy punch. He caught it. My knees buckled.

“Again,” he said, pushing me back.

Across the field, Gojo’s voice hitched higher, almost desperate. “Why is this so hard?! It’s just—heal the wound! Energy goes woosh, body goes fixed!”

Shoko finally snapped, her calmness cracking as she pointed her cigarette at him. “It’s swish and flick! Not woosh! How is it that hard? Are you stupid?” She then sighed before puffing her cigarette.

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Did you just call me stupid? Me? The strongest Gojo Satoru?!”

“You’re proving my point right now,” Shoko muttered, flicking her ash.

Geto’s voice cut over them all, commanding as ever. “Focus. Again.”

Nanami straightened his shirt, cleaver in hand. Haibara rolled his shoulders, still smiling despite the grass stains on his cheek. I patted dust off my tracksuit, heart thundering, and raised my fists once more.

The air on the field was still thick with dust and sweat when Gojo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out lazily, and tilted his sunglasses down to squint at the screen.

“It’s Yaga,” he announced, his tone shifting instantly from playful to serious.

Everyone stopped moving. Even Geto, who had been circling Nanami for another round, straightened his posture and let his arms drop. Haibara froze mid-bounce, panting, cheeks pink with effort.

Gojo swiped to answer and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yo, sensei. What’s up?”

Yaga’s voice crackled through the speaker, rough as gravel. “Satoru, put me on speaker.”

Gojo raised a brow but did as told. The phone’s tinny speaker carried Yaga’s words clearly across the training field.

“Yesterday, Mei Mei and Utahime went on a mission.”

“So?” Gojo drawled, drawing out the word as if the sentence had already bored him.

“They haven’t come back,” Yaga said flatly.

Silence dropped heavy over the field. Even the cicadas seemed to pause their song.

Haibara’s smile faltered. Nanami stiffened, his grip tightening on the cloth-wrapped cleaver. I swallowed hard, the pit of my stomach sinking.

Gojo pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, expression hardening. “So you’re putting us on a rescue mission?”

“Pretty much, yes,” Yaga confirmed. “But we’ll wait for another day. If they don’t return by then, you, Suguru, and Shoko will go after them. The first-years should stand by in case something happens.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara answered immediately, his voice loud but lacking its usual bounce.

The call ended with a soft beep, leaving the tension behind like a storm cloud that refused to move.

Geto was the first to break the silence. “Mei-san is on the mission?”

Shoko flicked ash off the end of her cigarette, brows furrowed. “With Utahime too.”

“That’s odd.” Geto’s arms crossed, his face more serious than I’d ever seen it during training. “Usually Mei-san’s missions go much faster.”

Shoko’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s kind of concerning. Do you think they’re up against special grade spirits?”

Gojo’s jaw shifted, sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Unlikely,” he muttered, though the doubt in his tone was hard to miss. “But not impossible. We should get ready just in case we’re deployed faster than scheduled.”

The unease spread like a quiet poison. No one moved, no one laughed. Even Haibara, usually impossible to dampen, just rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

And me? My throat had gone dry. Because I knew.

This was it. The beginning. The invisible clock had started ticking down, and all the easy laughter and petty bickering from before suddenly felt fragile, like it could shatter at any second. I wanted to scream at them, to tell them to stay put, to stop everything before it spun out of control. But how could I? How could I tell them I knew what was coming?

I swallowed hard, forcing my lips into what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “Uh, I’m sure Mei-san and Utahime-san will be alright.”

Nanami turned to me, his expression cool, skeptical. “What made you so sure?”

My chest tightened. “Well, uhh…” My eyes darted to the ground, to the dust still clinging to my tracksuit. “Mei-san is powerful, right? She’s going to be fine.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but no one challenged it.

Geto gave a small nod. Shoko flicked her cigarette away with a sigh. Even Gojo, still looking off into the horizon, muttered something that might’ve been agreement.

And just like that, the moment passed.

But the unease stayed.

I clenched my fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. No matter how much I told myself it wasn’t my fault, that I wasn’t supposed to know, the guilt already gnawed at me. Because deep down, I knew this was only the start of everything going downhill.

How could I forget?

Summer. That was when everything started. The first ripple that would eventually crash into a tidal wave. The beginning of Geto’s descent, mere months before he defected.

My stomach twisted as I watched everyone disperse. Nanami putting his cleaver back inside his shirt, Haibara’s laughter returning faintly as he nudged him toward the dorms, Shoko dragging her feet with a cigarette dangling between her fingers, Geto walking calmly at the center like nothing in the world could ever shake him.

And me, stuck in place, drowning in thoughts I couldn’t share.

I should check up with Geto. Just in case. Just to make sure the cracks hadn’t started forming yet. But when I blinked, the field was already empty. Only the dust of their departure remained.

Only Gojo stayed.

“Micchan.”

The sound of my name snapped me out of the spiral.

Gojo was sitting cross-legged on the grass, sunglasses tilted low enough that I could see the sharp gleam of his eyes. He looked at me with uncharacteristic stillness, no smirk tugging at his lips, no teasing lilt in his voice. Just quiet scrutiny.

“You okay? Did you hit your head during training?”

Automatically, my hand flew up to cradle my skull. “No, I’m okay. Pretty sure Suguru-senpai made sure I fell on my back instead of my head.”

Gojo hummed at that, though his gaze didn’t soften. He leaned back on his hands, elbows bent casually, but his whole presence radiated something sharper, colder.

“How do you know Mei-san?”

The question cut through the air like glass breaking.

My mouth went dry.

This time, his voice had none of its usual brattiness. It was low, measured. Dangerous. Beneath the round shades, his Six Eyes glinted unnaturally bright, drilling into me as if he could somehow read my mind, detect my lies.

“I didn’t expect a new student would know who she is.”

Panic surged up my throat. Think, Michiru, think. He’s suspicious already.

I forced a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “A-ah. She’s quite famous, actually. Heard about her a lot from my family.”

Gojo didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Just kept staring.

“Her technique is the crow vision-sharing thing, right?” I added hastily, throwing in the detail like a lifeline. “And, and— how she always milks them dry for money.”

The tension stretched so thin it might’ve snapped.

And then, finally, Gojo exhaled. A long hum rumbled out of him, and his shoulders visibly eased. His gaze softened into something less cutting, more casual. Like the danger had passed.

“Mm.” He pushed himself to his feet with a careless grace, dusting off his pants.

Relief flooded me so fast my knees nearly buckled.

Gojo adjusted his sunglasses, turning to leave without another word. His long strides carried him halfway across the field before he suddenly stopped. Slowly, he glanced back over his shoulder.

“You should clean up and then see Shoko,” he said, his tone light again, though something unreadable lingered under it. “So you don’t bruise tomorrow.”

And then he walked off, leaving me standing alone.

Holy shit. That was so scary! Why the hell is Gojo so scary???

Gojo’s eyes alone felt like they could slice me open and spill everything I’ve been hiding right onto the floor. I should… I really should keep my mouth shut.

…Or maybe not?

The thought came unbidden, curling like smoke in my head. What if telling them about the future would actually help them? Wouldn’t it be better than walking blindly into disaster?

But—no. Not directly. They would think I’m insane. Imagine being transmigrated from another world where you are just a fictional character. I can’t— I can’t shatter their reality like that.

…Unless.

Unless I pretend I have clairvoyance. Seer abilities. Sorcerers like that exist, right? People who can glimpse fragments of the future, who “just know things.” If I frame it like that, maybe they’d believe me. Maybe I could warn them without sounding insane.

I hugged my arms around myself, teeth biting into my lower lip. What should I even do about this knowledge? How do I twist it into something useful? More importantly, how do I stop the worst from happening?

If Geto Suguru doesn’t die… will Kenjaku still come? He’s too persistent, too disgusting, to just give up. He’ll crawl his way into someone else. Maybe even someone worse.

Changing the future is dangerous. Too dangerous. If I alter events, I’ll lose the certainty of what I know. Everything will shift into an unknown path—an unpredictable one. For all I know, I could make things even worse.

But still. Suguru deserves happiness. He deserves to laugh with Gojo and Shoko and all of us, to stay in Jujutsu High where he belongs. He deserves… more than the ending I know he’s heading toward.

I have to make sure of it.

He has to stay hydrated, not spiral into depression, definitely not start asking Yuki Tsukumo about her weird philosophies. He just needs… stability. And maybe friendship.

Maybe I should get closer to him.

But not too close. Not enough to make the others suspicious. Not enough to make Gojo squint at me with those terrifying eyes again.

I sighed into the evening air, tilting my head back at the empty sky.

This is insane.

But if I don’t do something… then history is just going to repeat itself.

 

Chapter 7: Hidden Inventory I

Notes:

The start of Hidden Inventory Arc. Can't wait to show you guys what I have in my mind :3

Summer at Jujutsu High was brutal.

I stood in front of the mirror that morning, tugging at the hem of my skirt. Nobara kept talking about the summer uniform, but isn’t it just the winter one without the jacket…? I sighed. Skirts were skirts, heat was heat.

Mine looked a little different compared to hers anyway. It was closer to Maki’s uniform, but instead of tights like everyone else seemed to wear, mine came with thigh-high stockings. And to top it off, the white shirt had lace trimmings on the hem.

“It’s so hot,” I muttered at my reflection. “I can’t even imagine wearing stockings… I should just ditch them. But then I’d have to shave my legs every single day…”

In the end, I did ditch them. Thigh-highs off, ankle socks on. Frilly ankle socks. Guhh. I prayed no one would notice as I stepped outside.

Of course, the first person I met and noticed was Gojo.

He whistled. “Bare legs? You’re so confident.”

I froze on the spot, heat shooting up my neck. Slowly, like a curse spreading across the room, I felt every pair of eyes turn to my legs.

“Please…” I said, deadpan, my voice already tired. “Stop staring at my legs.”

Nanami was silent but he was still staring, Haibara pressed his lips together suspiciously hard, and Shoko just raised an unimpressed brow.

Then Geto tilted his head at me, calm as ever, “They’re very nice.”

Gojo immediately burst out laughing, slapping his shoulder.

“Puh puh, that’s sexual harassment, y’know!”

Geto coughed into his fist, suddenly looking self-conscious. “I was talking about the muscles. Looks-wise, Michiru. You’re actually very fit. I’m surprised at your level of fitness compared to your actual combat skills.”

I blinked. “…Thanks? I think?”

Gojo bent down until his round sunglasses nearly slid off his nose, grin sharp and teasing.
“Muscles, huh? Micchan, guess you’ve been hiding some secrets under that frilly cardigan of yours.”

“Senpai!”

Shoko sighed beside us, already fishing out a cigarette. “You guys are exhausting first thing in the morning.”

The courtyard was unusually quiet without the boys. Shoko and I had been left behind while Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Haibara were sent out on missions.

“I feel kinda guilty that we don’t have missions,” I admitted, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve.

Shoko stretched out on the bench, lighting up a cigarette with her usual unbothered air. “Oh, you’ll say that now, but by the end of the season you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“Is it really that bad outside?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Yup.” She exhaled a thin stream of smoke, as if the word itself carried the weight of a thousand curses.

I sighed softly. “I hope Suguru-senpai is alright…”

Shoko gave me a sidelong glance. “Hey, Micchan, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Are you… do you like Suguru?”

My brain short-circuited. What???? Me? Like Geto? When I’m a Gojo simp???

Sure, Geto was gentle, considerate, reliable—husband material, honestly. But my heart? My stupid, hopeless heart already belonged to one annoying six-foot-three man with beautiful blue eyes and zero shame.

I forced myself to calm down and sighed. “I wish… I wish I liked him instead.”

Shoko blinked. “Wait— you’re actually in love with Gojo? I thought the whole fan thing was just a joke. How— He’s my best friend, but I can’t lie, he is NOT lover material.”

“W-well, he’s annoying and bratty now,” I admitted, wringing my hands, “but… he’ll mature right up in the future. Call it an investment.”

I obviously couldn’t tell her about the future I knew—that Gojo would be more than just a teacher, that he’d raise Yuji, Yuta, Megumi, even Tsumiki, like they were his own kids. The man would grow into the strongest father figure I’d ever seen.

Shoko made a face. “Well, I can’t tell you who you can and can’t like, but… good luck, Micchan. I’ll support you if I can. Truth be told, he’s an asshole.”

“Ehh… thank you, Shoko-senpai. But I honestly have no intention of dating him.” Especially if he’s going to snap in half at the waist in the future.

“I’ll just, uh… admire him from the sidelines. The man’s a work of art.”

Shoko chuckled. “Well, I can’t lie about that. He is attractive. Just… not with that personality.”

“Hehe, you’re right. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire that body though… He’s so tall and and and… big…”

I quickly wiped the corner of my mouth in case I’d started drooling.

Shoko nearly choked on her smoke. “Oh, you’re down BAD for him…”

“Oh, enough about Gojo,” I waved my hand quickly before I started drooling again. “What about Mei-san and Utahime? Were they alright?”

Shoko tapped the ashes off her cigarette. “They were perfectly okay. As expected of Mei-san. Apparently the cursed spirit barrier had some time distortion. They thought they were stuck for a few hours, but in reality, it had already been two days.”

“Ooh, I see.” I nodded, pretending to be surprised even though I already knew. “And why did Yaga-sensei get mad at you guys?”

Shoko gave me a flat look. “The curtain. We forgot to pull it down. Now the whole area knows about the incident and the destruction.”

“Ah…” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly.

The sound of the sliding door opening pulled my attention. Geto stepped in first. His face looked exhausted, his whole presence weighed down, but the moment he saw us he still offered a soft smile.

“No classes?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said quickly. “Yaga-sensei’s also out on a mission. We’re supposed to be self-training, but…”

Shoko shrugged lazily. “It’s not like I can train her Reverse Cursed Technique or spar with her.”

“Of course,” Ghetto said with a faint chuckle, before glancing around. “What about Satoru?”

“Not back yet,” I replied. Then I remembered something. “Also, Suguru-senpai… how was the balls? Were they working?”

Before departed to the mission, you’ve helped Geto with another dose of buff. Though you weren’t there personally, you thought it might help.

His lips quirked in amusement. “Unfortunately, I think I hit the time limit since you weren’t there, the balls were normal sized. But the taste was a little more manageable. Maybe because of the traces.”

“Ah, I see. Uhm, wait a second.” I fumbled around in my pocket until my fingers brushed against what I was looking for.

Geto tilted his head, looking confused.

“Here!” I pulled out a small pack of gum and held it out. “Mint flavor. Maybe it’ll freshen up the aftertaste.”

His expression softened in a way that made my chest hurt. He smiled tiredly and accepted it. “Thank you.”

I watched as he popped a piece into his mouth.

“You okay?” Shoko asked, cutting through the moment with her usual bluntness.

Geto blinked at her. “Hmm? Why wouldn’t I be? They were just low-grade spirits.”

The man is breaking apart and he’s not even realizing it.

“But there were lots of them, right?” I added quickly, unable to stop myself. “That can’t be pleasant.”

He gave a faint shrug. “Well, being a jujutsu sorcerer is never pleasant.”

“I know that but—”

“I’m okay, Micchan,” he interrupted gently. “Don’t worry about me. Also, the gum helped. Thank you again.”

I pressed my lips together. “Well… if you say so…”

But I didn’t believe him. Not one bit.

The sliding doors banged open again, and in came Gojo, sunglasses already pushed up onto his forehead.

“Oh, you finished first, Suguru?” he asked, strolling in like he owned the place.

“Yeah, mine was easy,” Geto replied calmly. “How was Malaysia?”

Malaysia?? My head snapped toward him.

“You went to Malaysia?!” I practically yelped.

“Yep.” Gojo stretched like he’d just come back from a spa, not an exorcism. “Some sorcerers there needed help with their local cursed spirit. It was an imaginary type. Ugh—Southeast Asian spirits are much worse than ours.”

Geto gave him a sly smile. “Damn, I would have loved to absorb it.”

Gojo smirked. “Well, ask the higher-ups next time. Anyway—we’re free now, right? Let’s play basketball.”

And just like that, we ended up in the indoor gymnasium.

Geto and Gojo immediately began snatching the ball from each other, shoving shoulders, laughing and trash-talking like boys do. At first it was fun to watch. Then… it turned.

Geto’s voice dropped. “Survival of the weak is how society should be.”

I froze. Oh my god, they’re about to have the debate.

Gojo stopped dribbling, his smile sharpening. “Don’t just stand there on your high horse making your big talk.”

Then he made this disgusting gagging noise—tongue out, head tilted back, “ueghhh”—like he was pretending to puke.

I almost burst out laughing, but the way Geto’s face darkened kept the sound stuck in my throat. He looked offended . For a second, I felt cursed energy shift, like he was about to summon a spirit.

“Let’s run, Micchan,” Shoko muttered, already tugging at my arm.

“Eh? But don’t you want to see this?”

She shot me a deadpan look. “I’ll skip.” Then she bolted out the doors.

I stayed rooted to the floor, eyes darting between the two of them. They were really about to throw hands—

The door creaked open again.

Yaga-sensei peeked his head inside. “What are you guys doing? Where’s Shoko?”

Instantly, Gojo and Geto straightened like they’d been caught doing something illegal. They both stretched their arms overhead, feigning innocence.

“Who knows,” Geto said smoothly.

“Probably the toilet? Ask Micchan,” Gojo added, pointing at me.

I blinked. “Huh—??”

Yaga sighed, unimpressed. His eyes flicked over me, then back to them. “Well, whatever. Follow me, you three. I have a new mission for all of you.”

“Eh—me too?” I asked weakly, pointing at myself.

“As much as I hate sending out first years on dangerous missions…” His voice rumbled like a warning. “…It’s Master Tengen’s order.”

That shut me up real quick.

And so, the three of us followed him out, the sound of our shoes echoing down the hall as we headed toward another building.

The walk down the hall was tense, Yaga-sensei leading the way with heavy steps. His voice rumbled low, each word bouncing off the quiet corridor walls.

“Frankly, I think this mission is too demanding for you guys,” he said. “But Master Tengen named you three, as I’ve mentioned before.”

My stomach flipped. It was supposed to be just the two of them, but Tengen noticed me as well…

“The mission has two parts,” Yaga continued. “Star Plasma Vessel—the suitable vessel for Master Tengen. You will guard the girl… and get rid of her.”

“Guard and get rid of that kid?” Gojo’s voice rang sharp with disbelief.

“That’s right.”

Gojo snorted. “Has he finally lost it?”

By the time we entered an empty classroom, my pulse was drumming in my ears. Yaga and Geto stepped forward, explaining the details of Master Tengen’s body, his need for assimilation, and why the vessel was necessary.

Geto glanced my way, frowning. “The two of us make sense, but Michiru?”

I froze under his gaze, caught between shame and wanting to argue that I could help.

“I don’t want to deploy the first years either, if I could help it,” Yaga said, folding his arms. “But the mission is of utmost importance. If she could help you, it would be a waste not to use her technique.”

Gojo leaned back against the desk with a lazy grin. “Buff aside, she’s physically weak.”

Excuse me?? My lips parted, ready to protest, but Yaga cut me off.

“That’s why—not only the Star Plasma Vessel. I also want you to protect her. And Michiru—try your best not to hinder your seniors.”

I swallowed hard, cheeks burning. “Y-yes, Sensei.”

Gojo waved his hand like it was nothing. “Welp, should be easy. That’s just an escort mission, isn’t it?”

Yaga’s expression hardened. “Yes. But unfortunately, the location of the Star Plasma Vessel girl was disclosed.”

The air in the room shifted. Geto straightened. Gojo’s grin faded into something sharper.

“Now there are two groups of people who want to kill the girl,” Yaga said, voice low. “The Curse User Group Q. They want Master Tengen to lose self-control, so they can subvert the current jujutsu realm.”

Geto’s brows furrowed.

“The other one is the Star Religious Group that worships Master Tengen. The Time Vessel Association.”

After the explanation from Yaga, it was time to move out, Gojo and Geto naturally started bickering as usual, but somehow they ended up agreeing on one thing—splitting up.

Gojo grinned, tilting his sunglasses down to peer at me. “So, Micchan, who do you wanna come with?”

My heart skipped. The way he said it was teasing, but my brain flashed forward— this is the part where Geto gets blown off the building. My palms went clammy. If I tagged along with him, he’d have to protect me, Riko Amanai and himself. That… sounded like extra work for him.

I forced a smile. “Ah, we’re going against curse users, right? So I think it’s more useful for me to follow Satoru-senpai.”

Geto didn’t argue. He just gave a small nod, calm as always. “Okay, then we’ll split here. Make sure one of you is at least contactable.”

“Yes, yes,” Gojo answered, sounding ridiculously bored.

I hesitated, biting my lip before blurting, “Uhm, Suguru-senpai, be careful of explosions.”

“Explosions?” His brows lifted slightly.

“Yes, because the building’s quite tall, right? And since Q wants to kill her, they might bomb the building… or something.”

Gojo chuckled, waving it off. “I think someone watched too many action movies.”

But Geto smiled faintly, as though humoring me. “Alright. I’ll be careful.”

And then we split.

As I followed Gojo, the silence stretched between us. My legs felt light, almost shaky, the adrenaline of lying to Geto about “action movies” still buzzing in my chest.

“So why are we splitting up actually?” I asked, more to fill the quiet than anything.

“These people,” Gojo said easily, “they wanna kill the girl, right? So it’s better to not gather in one place. This way, we can force them to split too, whittling down their numbers.”

“I see…”

I nodded, but the explanation only half-settled me. It was logical, sure, but it still felt dangerous. Then again, maybe everything about this mission was dangerous.

The silence crept back in. Awkward. Painfully awkward. This was Gojo Satoru , my anime crush, but I couldn’t forget—this wasn’t the man I simped for. This was the bratty teenage version of him.

God, this is so weird. I should’ve gone with Geto… but no, better safe than splattered across pavement if Geto can’t save me.

“Micchan,” Gojo said suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. His voice was casual, but sharp at the edges. “Your family is the Isagi, right?”

I blinked. “Huh? Oh… yes.”

“A branch of the Inumaki, huh? But you didn’t inherit the cursed speech technique.”

I felt my shoulders tense. Oh no, stop talking about this. Please. I know nothing about the real Michiru Isagi’s family situation.

“Well… unfortunately not,” I mumbled, forcing a laugh that came out awkward.

The silence stretched again, heavy. Desperate, I blurted, “W-what about you, senpai? The Gojo clan is one of the most famous sorcerer clans. How was it, being born and raised in such a family?”

Gojo tilted his head, grin as careless as ever. “Well, inheriting the Six Eyes and the Limitless isn’t all fun and rainbows, y’know. Comes with endless training, constant drills, the usual. But that’s alright. I’m the strongest, after all.”

He said it with that trademark confidence, but I caught the faintest pause before he smiled. He probably didn’t want to talk about the isolation. In the anime and manga, every time young Gojo was shown with his clan, he wasn’t smiling—just those piercing blue eyes, sharp as blades. That couldn’t have been fun.

“Six Eyes,” I ventured carefully, “what can you actually see? You’re not, like—shooting lasers or getting X-ray vision, right?”

Gojo’s grin widened, and his voice dropped into that mock-lecturer tone of his. “Six Eyes means perception way beyond normal sorcerers. Think infrared camera, only sharper. I can see for kilometers, pick out cursed energy threads like they’re glowing neon signs, even if my eyes are covered. It’s basically a cheat vision.”

He shrugged, casual. “But it’s mostly useful for cursed energy.”

I blinked. “How do you even sleep like that? If you close your eyes, wouldn’t it all just… go right through?”

Gojo laughed. “There are eye masks that help. Besides, yeah, I can see cursed energy flowing through an entire building, but don’t worry, I can’t see what underwear you’re wearing today. If that helps.”

My face heated instantly. “Well it’s a good thing you can’t do that, otherwise you’d be a criminal in more than one way.”

“Huh?” He blinked at me, genuinely confused.

Can’t exactly explain he’s going to spend the rest of his career surrounded by teenagers… better just drop that thought.

Luckily, his phone buzzed, cutting through the awkwardness. He answered, voice lazy. “Ah, it’s Suguru. Found her?”

He didn’t put it on speaker, so I instinctively leaned in closer, craning to catch the voice on the other end. Gojo blinked down at me in amusement, but didn’t move.

“Nope,” Suguru’s voice came faintly. “I’m on my way to the room now. In the lift. Remember to be careful of Q—they could attack anytime.”

“Yes, yes,” Gojo replied breezily, “no problem. We’re the strongest, after all. And hey, we’ve got Michiru with us now. We’re even stronger.”

My heart gave a little jump. It was such a simple thing to say, probably nothing more than Gojo being Gojo.

I could already imagine Geto’s funny expression at Gojo’s audacity from the lift, and just imagining it made me smile. Somehow that was enough to make Gojo stare down at me. We were standing close—so close our shoulders brushed.

Then, out of nowhere, his free hand landed on my head and ruffled through my hair.

“Ak—! What are you doing?!” I yelped, swatting at his arm.

From the other end of the line, Geto snickered. A dull metallic ring followed, and then—

BOOM.

The sound ripped through the air, and when I looked up, the apartment tower had blown open in fire and smoke.

“It really was bomb-rigged,” Gojo murmured. His Six Eyes were wide, but his hand was still tangled in my hair, holding me steady as he looked straight at me.

“Yes! This is why you should listen to me! ” I snapped, heart hammering.

Static crackled through the phone. Gojo lifted it to his ear. “Still alive there?”

“I am,” came Geto’s reply—strained, but calm.

Gojo finally let go of me, stepping back with a sigh. “If the girl died now, would they blame us?”

“Ah!” I gasped, pointing skyward.

A trail of smoke cut across the sky—and through it, a small figure tumbled helplessly down, unconscious.

“Ah,” Gojo said flatly.

“Ah,” Geto echoed through the phone.

Before I could even scream, I heard the shattering of glass and a faint exhale—Geto’s. He’d caught her using some flying cursed spirit. Relief hit me in a wave, but it didn’t last.

“Can’t hear you,” Geto’s voice said next, sharp, distracted. “Come closer.”

He was fighting. I knew immediately—Q’s members.

“Oh good, you caught her,” Gojo muttered, like this was nothing more than a passing thought.

And then he moved.

In an instant he stepped forward, his arm shooting out in front of me, shielding me half-behind his frame. My breath hitched.

Knives—dozens—sliced through the air, all freezing mid-flight, hanging just inches from us. Gojo’s Infinity reverberated around us.

A slow clap echoed.

From the shadows, a man in uniform appeared, lips curled in a grin. “Impressive. You’re Gojo Satoru, right? You’re famous and I heard that you’re strong. Let’s check the rumors out.”

Gojo calmly closed his flip phone, slipped it into his pocket, and stretched like he had all the time in the world.

“Sure,” he said. “But let’s decide on the rules first.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “Rules?”

Gojo’s grin sharpened. “Yeah. I don’t wanna get scolded for going too far.”

Chapter 8: Hidden Inventory II

Notes:

You lie a lot in this chapter-- sorry :)

After Yaga called us about Mei Mei and Utahime, I couldn’t sleep. For the first time, my mind was actually way too occupied with something that’s not Gojo. No. I was too scared to go to sleep.

Amanai Riko was a confusing individual. To be completely honest, I do not care about her at all. She’s just someone who showed up suddenly but unfortunately her passing would trigger the downfall of Geto Suguru. Not to mention that her not merging with Tengen would lead to the incident with Kenjaku, which would of course lead to Gojo’s death.

I would rather avoid that plot point if possible. That means, Amanai Riko must merge with Tengen no matter what. This is not even a matter of choice anymore– I know that Riko wouldn’t want to, but her sacrifice is needed for the sake of the greater good.

Riko herself right now had barely woken up and already managed to piss off both Geto and Gojo. First, she’d slapped Gojo across the face, leaving his cheek red, and then immediately turned on Geto with the same sharp tongue.

“Liar! You have the face of a liar! Your bangs are weird, too!” she accused, glaring daggers.

I tilted my head, blurting out before I could stop myself. “I personally think Suguru-senpai’s bangs are nice.”

Geto gave me a wry smile. “You’re the only one that thinks so, I think.”

Riko rounded on me, fuming. “It is very unfortunate that a woman of your caliber has a faulty sense of men!”

Gojo was still cradling his cheek with an indignant pout, as though the sting of her palm was the greatest injustice against him.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, staring at the three of them. She’d been awake for what–  five minutes? And already they looked ready to strangle each other.

Apparently, Geto and Gojo had the same thought. Without hesitation, Geto grabbed her wrists while Gojo caught her ankles, the two of them pulling in opposite directions like she was some kind of stubborn rag doll.

“This is disrespectful!” Riko shrieked, thrashing against them.

Before I could intervene, the door burst open. A maid came rushing in, perched precariously atop a cursed spirit that looked like a cross between a bull and a pig.

“P-Please stop it!” she cried.

“Kuroi!” Riko shouted in relief.

“Young lady, these men are our allies,” the maid, Kuroi, explained breathlessly.

Riko’s jaw dropped. “Kuroi, what are you riding on?!”

“This is the technique of the gentleman with bangs,” Kuroi replied with complete seriousness.

Geto winced, almost sagging under the title. “Could you please not call me that…?”

Gojo snorted, now lounging on the sofa. “This brat is more aggressive than I expected. I was even trying to figure out how to be considerate, thinking she’d be more sentimental about the assimilation thing.”

“Hmph!” Riko puffed her cheeks, glaring at him like he’d committed blasphemy.

“A commoner’s way of thinking!”

Gojo’s head snapped up, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose. “Huh?!” His irritation was practically radiating off him.

Riko lifted her chin imperiously, ignoring his temper. “Listen up! Tengen-sama is me, and I am Tengen-sama! Some might mistake assimilation for death, as you do, but there’s a big difference!”

“That’s good, Riko,” I thought as she ranted about being Tengen-sama’s chosen. Because we need you to merge with Tengen no matter what. We can’t fail here– I can’t fail here.

But apparently, Gojo and Geto didn’t share the same urgency. Instead of focusing, they bickered like always. It’s alright, they didn’t know what was at stake. Not yet.

After their little spat, Riko puffed up and insisted on going to school. Gojo groaned in annoyance, pointing out how it was ridiculous to walk her into danger when we couldn’t take her straight to Tengen, but also couldn’t just leave her side unguarded.

And of course, shit happened.

Curse users started showing up at her school. The bounty on Amanai Riko was no joke–  everyone was crawling out of the shadows for it. I didn’t even realize that Japan has this many curse users.

When we arrived at the school we decided to split up.

Geto’s voice was sharp and commanding. “Satoru, you take the chapel. Kuroi, cover the music room. I’ll take the two unknowns. Michiru you stay with me.”

“Roger that,” Gojo replied, vanishing in a blur.

I followed Geto down a bright hallway, the sounds of distant footsteps echoing. My stomach twisted tighter with every step.

“If there’s danger that I think is beyond me,” Geto said suddenly, his voice low, “I want you to run, okay? Otherwise, remember to stay near me at all times.”

I glanced up at him. His brows were knit, his jaw tight, his whole expression unusually tense.

“Are you… worried?” I asked softly.

“Of course I am,” he admitted without hesitation. “We could fail this mission at any time right now. But this time…” His eyes flicked briefly towards one of the empty classrooms. “…its effect will be huge–  more so than other normal missions.”

I froze in place. His words stabbed straight through me. The effect will be huge, huh? Right. What you did, Geto– what happens after this– will push the domino that destroys everything.

“Micchan?” Geto stopped a few steps ahead, turning back.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Don’t worry about Riko right now but… I have something to tell you, Senpai.”

He frowned. “What do you– ”

“Please listen to me,” I cut in, my voice trembling but urgent. “Even if this sounds bad. Even if this makes you hate me. I have a request.”

Something in my face must’ve convinced him, because Geto went still. His eyes searched mine, and I could see him recognizing the seriousness in my gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “…Alright. What is it?”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “I want you to make sure… that Amanai Riko merges with Master Tengen.”

Geto blinked. Then, after a moment, he said carefully, “Well… that’s our mission, right?”

“Yes, you’re right,” I rushed out. “But– please remember this, Suguru-senpai. No matter what happens with Riko. No matter what she tells you later. Please promise me you’ll make sure she gets to Master Tengen.”

His frown deepened. “I don’t understand why you’re saying this, but…”

“Even if she doesn’t want to merge later– ” My voice cracked, panic bubbling up. “Will you still force her?”

His eyes widened in shock. “What are you– ”

“Promise me, Senpai!” I pleaded, clutching my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Even if she says she wants to go back to her old life. Please promise me you won’t listen, that you’ll still give her to Master Tengen! I– I can’t explain right now, but if we fail this, the results will be too– no, we can’t fail this!”

I sounded desperate. Pathetic, even. But I couldn’t stop. This was too important.

Geto stared at me for a long, heavy moment. Then, finally, he exhaled and gave a reluctant nod.

“…Alright. But you owe me an explanation after this all finishes, okay?”

I nodded quickly, too quickly.

After a few more minutes of running, we finally encountered one of the curse users– an old man with a cracked voice who summoned shikigami in front and behind him. Geto summoned one of his cursed spirits to swallow the man, but he dodged by going out the window and re-entering. Just like it’s supposed to be, Geto managed to beat him in a hand-to-hand combat. 

And so we’re back to running. I barely had time to catch my breath when Gojo called, his voice carrying through the line. “Got Riko with me. She’s fine.”

Not long after, Kuroi reappeared, looking relieved. “We should split up again, both of you are faster than–”

“No!” The word burst out of me harsher than I meant. “Riko is fine. Satoru-senpai is handling it perfectly. We don’t need to split up.”

Kuroi blinked at me, startled, confusion flickering across her face. But I couldn’t let her get taken. If Kuroi was kidnapped, Riko would only get more tangled with us. And the more feelings got involved, the more dangerous it would be. Gojo and Geto needed to stay neutral. Detached. That was the only way they’d be able to do their job later.

So we stayed together after a little bit more convincing.

A few minutes later, we regrouped with Gojo and Riko. She looked completely unharmed, bright-eyed like she hadn’t just been targeted by assassins.

“I want to go to the beach,” she blurted, as if we were on some summer trip. “I’ve never been to a beach before. And the aquarium too!”

I felt something sink in my stomach. So no matter what I do, destiny will always push toward the same result?

But then I thought again. No. Okinawa isn’t dangerous. If I can convince Gojo to relax a little, to not activate his eyes all the time, maybe he can fight Toji better when the time comes.

“Alright,” I said finally. “Okinawa… I’ll follow too.”

Geto glanced at me, concerned. “We should also call Nanami and Haibara, just in case.”

I shook my head quickly. “No. They should stand by at Jujutsu High. When we return.”

And so, off to Okinawa we went.

The plane buzzed quietly, full of chatter and the rustling of snacks, like nothing was wrong in the world. But Gojo walked around, his Six Eyes active the entire time. 

I could see the faint glow in his gaze as he scanned every single passenger, making sure not a single curse user had slipped onboard. Outside the window, Geto’s rainbow dragon soared, its shimmering scales trailing across the clouds as it flew alongside the plane. Nothing from outside could touch us.

I let out a slow breath, staring out at the endless blue sky. For a moment, it really did look like a summer trip. Almost normal.

After finishing his paranoid sweep of the plane, Gojo finally sat down beside me. He didn’t slouch like usual, though. His posture was stiff, his brows drawn tight, his jaw sharp with tension.

“Satoru-senpai,” I murmured.

“Hm?” His voice was clipped, distracted.

“What would it take… for me to convince you to stop using your Six Eyes?”

That got his attention. His head turned, sunglasses slipping down just enough for me to see the faint glow of those impossible blue eyes. “…Huh? You think this is just a trip? Michiru, I can’t just– ”

“It’s going to be alright,” I said quietly, firmly.

Something in him stilled.

“Trust me. You should save your strength for the fight later.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, still staring at me like I’d just said something outrageous. “…How did you know about the bomb in the apartment before?”

My throat went dry. My gaze slipped away. “…Just a feeling. Maybe you were right. I watched too many action movies.”

A lie. A terrible, flimsy lie.

And before I could brace myself, his hand shot out, fingers sliding under my chin. He tilted my face back toward him, trapped in the burning blue of his Six Eyes.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought I might go into cardiac arrest.

He’s touching me. He’s touching me. I can’t breathe. Someone sedate me now before I get too excited.

“Look me in the eyes when you talk,” he ordered. His voice was low, sharper than usual, and it made my pulse skitter like I was standing too close to a cliff’s edge.

I grabbed his wrist with both hands, desperate for an anchor, heat blooming where our skin touched. My eyes darted everywhere– the overhead lights, the plane window, the tray table– anywhere but his eyes, because if I drowned in them now I wouldn’t come back up. “P-please let me go…”

His grip didn’t falter. His brows pinched tighter, but his voice softened, just barely. “…Do you know something we don’t?”

We were too close. Far too close. I could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint sharpness of soap and clean linen, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

And then he blinked, like something clicked. His lips parted slightly. “Wait… why are you blushing?”

My whole face felt like it was on fire. “S-stupid! People don’t just grab others by the chin like that!”

His ears turned pink. His jaw clenched as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. “…You’re the one making it weird!”

We started bickering, whispers sharp but breathless, neither of us moving away. His fingers still ghosted against my chin even as I tried to swat him off, like he’d forgotten how to let go.

And then– bam. A sudden jolt hit the back of Gojo’s seat. I yelped, the vibration rattling straight through me since our chairs were connected.

“Oi,” Geto’s voice came flatly from behind. “You two are too noisy.”

“And honestly embarrassing,” Riko added.

I twisted around through the gap between the seats. Both Geto and Riko were flushed, Kuroi trying and failing to hide a smile beside them.

“I thought you were flirting with Mr. Bangs before,” Riko said, appalled. “But apparently your taste in men is worse. Can’t believe you’d go for the manchild.”

“Wha– We’re not– !” I stammered.

“Hah?! Manchild?! ” Gojo barked at the exact same time, his hand finally dropping from my face as he spun toward her, outrage written all over him.

When we arrived, the beach stretched wide and endless, waves rolling in with a lazy rhythm, their froth glinting under the sun like powdered glass. The air smelled of salt and sunscreen, laughter riding on the breeze as Gojo and Riko chased each other along the shoreline, their footprints weaving chaos in the wet sand.

Me? I kept my back to them, crouched low in front of a mound of damp sand, carefully cupping water in my hands to trickle over the base. My hair clung to the nape of my neck in the heat, but I ignored the sweat and sun, focused only on sculpting. If I just concentrated hard enough, maybe I could forget where I was– or who I was supposed to be.

A shadow stretched over me, long and steady.

Geto's voice floated down, calm and smooth as always.
“You’re already wearing a bikini. Don’t you want to play in the water with Satoru and Riko-chan?”

I didn’t look up, just pressed my thumb into the sand, shaping a wall. 

“No. I hate the sea.” That was a lie.

There was a pause. “Really.”

“And I hate fishes,” I added quickly. Another lie.

“And sea cucumbers the most,” I declared, pointing vaguely toward the shoreline. Sure enough, Gojo was terrorizing Riko with a fat, slimy thing, her squeals rising above the crash of waves.

Geto hummed, quiet amusement in his throat. He didn’t believe a word.

“…What are you doing, then?” he asked.

“Fortifying the foundations,” I said matter-of-factly, scooping up a shell to dig grooves in the wet sand.

“By pouring water on it?”

“Yes. It makes the sand tougher. Easier to shape.”

Kuroi, standing a little behind him, leaned closer, her voice soft. “You know a lot about sandcastles. Do you often go to the sea?”

The question sliced through me. My hands froze, water dripping from my fingertips back into the moat I’d carved. Did Michiru Isagi like the sea? Did she come here often? I couldn’t answer. My throat closed up, mind racing, tongue heavy with uncertainty.

The shadows shifted again.

Geto and Kuroi moved aside, and for a split second I thought they had left me to my awkward silence.

But when I looked up– 

Gojo towered over me, a devil’s grin spread across his face, the sun turning the edges of his hair into silver fire. His hand tilted a plastic bucket, droplets of seawater sliding over the rim, glittering as they caught the light.

I barely had time to gasp.

Cold. Soaked. Shivering.

The water came crashing down over my head in a shocking wave, drenching my hair, running down my shoulders, soaking through my bikini and dripping over my stomach. The sandcastle crumbled instantly, melting into a ruined heap.

I screeched, flinging my hands up uselessly against the torrent. “GOJO SATORU– !!”

He burst out laughing, the kind that doubled him over, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. His whole body shook with it, unrestrained and obnoxiously loud.

Riko dropped into the sand, clutching her stomach as she howled too, while Geto secretly looked like a proud parent. Kuroi hid a smile behind her hand.

I scrambled to my feet, dripping wet, my hair plastered to my cheeks. Sand clung to my legs, my arms, my chest. My fists trembled at my sides as I glared daggers at him, face burning hotter than the sun.

“You absolute child ! Do you think this is funny?!”

“Extremely,” he snorted, straightening his shades. “You looked way too serious about that little sand hill. Had to do something.”

“That was an architectural masterpiece !” I jabbed a finger at the ruins.

“It was lopsided anyway,” he teased, grin curling wider.

Steam practically shot out of my ears. I stomped toward him, wet sand squelching beneath my feet, until I was toe-to-toe with him. He was taller, smug as ever, shadows of his lashes framing those dazzling blue eyes that caught everything.

The sand was still clinging to my skin when Gojo’s grin turned sharp, mischief sparking like lightning in his eyes.

“Yo Suguru~ help me out here.”

Geto didn’t even hesitate. “Alright.”

Before I could react, the world tilted– my arms seized by Geto, my legs lifted by Gojo. I shrieked, wriggling in their grip, but they only laughed louder, swinging me like a pendulum before hurling me straight into the middle of the ocean.

Cold water swallowed me whole.

Salt stung my eyes. My arms flailed, legs kicking– but instead of floating, I sank. Fast. Too fast. Panic bloomed in my chest. What– ?! I can’t– 

Wait. No. I could swim. I could. But this body– this Michiru– her limbs locked up, heavy as stone.

The ocean roared in my ears, but then– arms. Strong, steady arms wrapped around me, pulling me up, hauling me against a chest that felt like solid heat in the freezing water. I broke the surface with a gasp, sputtering, coughing, pressed flush against him.

“Oi, you can’t swim?!” Gojo’s voice thundered right by my ear, half-scolding, half-panicked. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Waves lapped at us, but he didn’t falter, holding me high enough that I could breathe. Behind us, the others rushed closer.

“Micchan, are you okay?” Geto’s brow furrowed, his voice tight. “I thought you could swim.”

“I thought so too,” I rasped, clinging instinctively to Gojo’s shoulders. My heart hammered against my ribs. I could swim. But this body can’t.

“The sea isn’t even that deep here…” Gojo muttered. I felt his chest move as he spoke, his tone a strange mix of disbelief and amusement.

Geto hummed, deadpan. “Well, she is short.”

I scowled, flailing in protest. “Let me go already!”

“Wait– stop, you’ll drown again– ” His voice was strained now, deeper. And before I could shake free, he shifted.

He turned me in his arms so suddenly I gasped, and the world spun until I was face-to-face with him. One of his hands caught my wrist, keeping me steady as my pulse hammered beneath his grip. The other slid instinctively to my waist, his palm spreading against my bare skin where the bikini offered no protection.

I froze.

He was right there . The sun glared over his shoulder, scattering droplets of seawater along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. His breath was uneven, brushing across my face. His Six Eyes– too bright, too piercing– held me captive, as if the ocean didn’t matter, as if nothing else in the world even existed.

The waves rocked us gently, lapping against his back, lifting me slightly only to push me closer into him again. Every nerve in my body was lit, trembling from the heat of his hand on my waist, the strength in his hold.

I should’ve shoved him. I should’ve shouted. But instead– 

My fingers curled into his shoulder, gripping tight, clinging in a way I told myself was just for balance.

“S-satoru–” My voice cracked.

For a split second, all I could think about was the heat of his palm against my bare waist, the steady thud of his heartbeat so close to my chest. Gojo’s Infinity was off– he was letting me touch him. My fingers were digging into his shoulder, and beneath the saltwater sheen, his skin was warm, firm. Real.

My pulse stuttered. His gaze dragged downward, and for half a heartbeat I thought– stupidly, foolishly– that maybe he was staring at my lips.

But then his mouth opened.

“Huh,” he said with the casual tone of someone commenting on the weather. “They’re bigger than Inoue Waka’s. What cup are they?”

My brain blue-screened.
“…huh?”

“What are you talking abo– ”

Geto's voice cut in smoothly, like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “I’ve been telling you that, Satoru.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, WHAT – ”

Gojo’s grin spread ear to ear, smug and sharp. “Isn’t it great? Our junior’s cute and sexy to boot.”

“UWAAH…” Riko’s horrified squeak carried across the waves as she clutched Kuroi’s arm like she’d just witnessed a crime. “The guys turned to sexual harassment now!?”

My face was burning so hot I thought I’d combust right there in the water. They were talking about my boobs?!

Sure, it was true– this body’s chest was a little too generous for a high schooler, the bikini doing me absolutely no favors . But the fact they were casually comparing sizes and cups like it was sports commentary – 

The last straw snapped.

I yanked my free hand up and chopped Gojo square on the head. The blow landed with a solid thwack . He hadn’t even bothered to put his Infinity up.

“OW– HEY!” He hunched over dramatically, clutching his head as if I’d just split his skull in two. “Micchan, what was that for?!”

“ YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WAS FOR! ”

Chapter 9: His Anger

Notes:

Just a small chapter. Please wait for the full one next.

There were still no signs of Toji. That was good. That meant, at least for now, everything was still moving along the familiar path. He would come, as always, at the gates of Jujutsu High.

For now, we stayed the night in the beach resort. The air was thick with salt and humidity, the sound of waves just outside the thin walls. It should’ve been relaxing, but my stomach twisted every time I glanced at Gojo.

His Six Eyes were still glowing. Even here, even now. Endless vigilance. I bit my nail until it almost hurt. If he doesn’t stop, he’ll be exhausted when it matters most. And if he’s exhausted, he’ll die. Can I even buff him enough to make up for that?

It was 11:30 PM.

Gojo and Geto shared a room. Kuroi and Riko shared another. Which left me alone, in the smallest room of the lot. I was already in my pajamas when a knock came.

I opened the door to find him standing there, white hair messy, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low. “You’re not already asleep, right?”

Annoyance flared in my chest– those damn eyes were still active– but I stepped aside anyway. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I come in? I have something to talk about.”

I nodded, letting him slip inside. The room was barely large enough for one, the bed taking most of the space. He sat down on it, folding himself comfortably like it belonged to him, while I stayed standing by the door. With a soft click , I locked it.

“Sorry you have to bunk alone,” he said casually, “But you can’t exactly stay with us guys.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize,” I said quickly. “I’d rather sleep alone.”

It wasn’t like I was secretly wishing for a one-bed trope with Gojo or anything… though, well, my daydreams would never starve again after this mission.

He leaned back on his hands, gaze drifting toward the window. “So… I talked to Suguru earlier. About you and Amanai.”

My brows furrowed. “And?”

His sigh was uncharacteristically awkward, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “Micchan, do you…” He trailed off, lips twisting. “…Look, I know you like me. And these past few days, Amanai and I have been close, but that’s just the mission, you know? So if you’re jealous or anything– ”

“…Huh?”

His head tilted. “Eh?”

We both blinked at each other for a solid minute before I broke the silence.

“No. No, no, no– ” My brain scrambled to keep up.

He pushed on, relentless. “Well, I know you’ve got a crush on me. You keep admiring me, calling yourself my fan, blushing whenever we touch. Like when we shook hands that first time– ”

“I– No– ! I do like you, and yes, I am in love with you, but jealous?! Of that ?!”

His grin spread slowly and wolfishly. “Ah, knew it.”

My mouth fell open. What is this guy on about? I didn’t even mind him knowing I liked– no, loved him. But jealous ? Of Amanai Riko ?

“Besides,” he went on smoothly, “Suguru mentioned his promise with you.”

“Yes– Wait, how did you jump to– ”

“It’s not hard to connect the dots,” he said smugly. “You like me. I’m being forced to listen to Amanai’s wishes. You sulked at the beach while we had fun. Jealous. You want to get rid of her.”

My face flamed. “Sulking at the beach?!”

“You had your back to us, didn’t you? So you must’ve been– ”

“Stop– !” I rushed forward, slamming both palms against his mouth before he could finish another word. My hands hit resistance at first– Infinity– but then, after a heartbeat, it melted away. My skin pressed right against his warm lips.

“Please just stop talking for a moment!” I hissed, face burning. “I am not jealous of Amanai Riko!”

His eyes widened slightly, pale lashes flickering as he stilled beneath my touch.

“Yes,” I continued, voice shaking but firm, “I love you. But no , that’s not why I told Suguru-senpai to make sure Riko merges with Master Tengen. She has to. If she doesn’t– we… we– ”

My words faltered. My palms loosened, sliding down from his lips to his chin. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

Silence. For once, Gojo Satoru was quiet. His hands lifted, wrapping around mine gently.

I swallowed hard, furrowed my brows at him. “And I told you to stop using your Six Eyes, didn’t I? Why won’t you listen? Why… why can’t you listen to me for once?”

My voice cracked at the end. To my horror, it sounded close to breaking, trembling on the edge of tears. His eyes widened further, and then– finally– the glow dimmed, fading into his natural, piercing blue.

He spoke softly. “I actually came here to request something of you.”

I scoffed, as if I didn’t know. Everyone only comes to me for one thing. My buffs. What else would they even come to me for?

Bitter, I replied to him, “I know what you want. I refuse.”

“What? You know how much is at stake– ”

I shoved a hand toward his mouth again, but his strong grip stopped me from even moving a muscle.

“I know exactly how much is at stake!” My voice rose, chest heaving. “That’s why you should trust me! You don’t need your Six Eyes now. You should be saving them for what’s coming!”

His voice dropped low, dangerous. “And I’ve asked you before– do you know something we don’t? Wouldn’t it be better if you just– ”

“I can’t! I can’t possibly tell you!”

The words ripped out of me, raw. I couldn’t tell you the truth. That your sentimentality would destroy you and also destroy the future of the people you love and care for. 

I can't compromise your mental health now, not when you're so full of your youth and freedom.

That same sentimentality would lead to Geto Suguru’s fall, Kenjaku’s return, the unraveling of everything. That Itadori’s fate, his forced revival by Sukuna– all of it, all of it tied back to Gojo Satoru.

How could I possibly burden him with that now of all times?

His jaw tightened, a single vein standing out beneath his pale skin. My hands trembled in his grip.

Then, without warning, he let go. He stood sharply. The glow reignited in his Six Eyes as he turned toward the door.

“It was my fault to disturb you this late,” he said flatly, voice trying too hard to be casual, “I won’t ask for it anymore.”

But the anger rolling off him was suffocating. The way his shoulders tensed, the way he yanked the door open too roughly, the loud slam that rattled the walls– it all shook me to my bones.

And then he was gone. His Six Eyes reactivated again.

Fucking stubborn!

Notes:

20K words :3 let’s go!!

Chapter 10: My Anger

Summary:

The Previous chapter but in Gojo’s POV. well you can skip this chapter if you’d like to keep it in your POV only.

Remember, by the end of the day, he’s just a 17 year old boy at the moment

[11:19 PM, Beach Resort]

The resort room was quiet except for the hum of the old ceiling fan and the faint crash of waves outside. Suguru was already digging around for his towel.

“I’ll shower first,” he said, voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’m so tired I’ll go straight to bed later.”

“Mm, oookay~,” I answered, sprawled out on the futon, fiddling with my flip phone. The glow of Snake lit up my glasses, little pixel squares disappearing one after another as I devoured them. Simple game, but man, it scratches an itch.

Water started running in the bathroom. The air grew warm with steam. Suguru emerged not long after, hair damp, t-shirt sticking a little to his skin. He looked way too serious for someone about to pass out.

“Satoru, I have something to tell you,” he said.

“What is it?” I kept my eyes glued to the screen, thumb clicking away.

“Do you think Micchan has been acting weirdly?”

“Weirdly? Dunno.”

I said it without thinking, but the question hooked somewhere in the back of my brain. Weirdly? Hm.

My mind flickered through the last couple of days.
 Day one: she was fine. Normal.
 Day two: she’d blushed when I’d tilted her chin up. Oh yeah. That was fun.
 Day three: the beach. Her pout when I poured seawater on her head. The way she avoided looking at me after.

The corners of my lips tugged upward. “She’s just in love, maybe.”

“Hah? In love?” Suguru frowned. “No, I meant, when we were at Riko-chan’s school. When we split up, Michiru was… adamant about something.”

I hummed absently, still focused on the little pixel snake. He kept talking.

“She made me promise her something. It wasn’t a binding vow, but she was really serious about it.”

My finger slipped. The snake slammed into the wall. Game Over. The screen froze.

And suddenly, it clicked.
 “She’s jealous…” I muttered.

Suguru blinked. “Huh??”

A slow grin spread across my face. Oh, this made sense. This made so much sense.

“She’s in love with me. That’s why she doesn’t want me close to Amanai. That’s why she wants her to merge with Tengen. I’ve connected the two dots.”

Suguru groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You didn’t connect shit.”

“I’ve connected them,” I said, smug, the words rolling off my tongue like victory.

He stared at me, exasperated, but I just grinned wider.

“Are you still not going to take off the Six Eyes?” he asked.

“Nope~” I popped the p for emphasis.

“Then at least go to Micchan,” Suguru sighed. “You look like a zombie. Do the doping, that should make it easier, right?”

That made me pause. Then snap. I shut my phone closed with a sharp clack, sitting up on the futon.

A grin bloomed across my face, bright and sharp, like a spark ready to burn. “Ah, I’ll go right away.”

Before Suguru could roll his eyes again, I was already on my feet, heading for the door. Whatever this was with Micchan— I was gonna get to the bottom of it tonight.

[11:30 PM, the door to Michiru Isagi’s room]

I knocked once on Michiru’s door, not even sure why my chest felt tight. Before I could say anything, the door opened.

She stood there in a frilly pajama dress, ribbons brushing her collarbone. Way too frilly. Way too cute.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to sound casual, “you’re not asleep, right?”

Her brows dipped, and her eyes locked onto mine. For some reason, I feel like she’s annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her voice was soft, almost too soft for this hour. Outside, cicadas buzzed like background noise. It was just me, her, and that voice.

“Can I come in? I have something to ask.”

She nodded and opened the door wider.

The room was tiny compared to mine and Suguru’s, just one bed pressed against the wall. I sat down on it while she shut the door. Click.

Great. Locked.

That sound went straight down my spine. Now it was just me, seventeen years old, hormonal as hell, stuck alone with a junior in thin pajamas. A junior who definitely had been looking at me with hearts in her eyes lately.

Maybe coming here was a mistake.

“Sorry you have to bunk alone,” I muttered, trying to play it cool, “but you can’t exactly stay with us guys.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’d rather sleep alone.”

Alone. Fantastic. My brain immediately supplied way too many scenarios I shouldn’t be thinking about. I cleared my throat, reminded myself why I came, and leaned back casually.

“So,” she said, watching me, “what are you going to talk about?”

Right. Focus. Mission.

“So… I talked to Suguru earlier. About you and Amanai.”

And then my eyes betrayed me. Slipped just for a second. Her pajamas… were way too thin. I could almost see the outline of— oh shit nope nope abort abort. I jerked my gaze toward the window before my brain could finish that thought.

“Micchan, do you…” My hand scratched the back of my neck. When was the last time I felt nervous? “... Look, I know you like me. And these past few days, Amanai and I have been close, but that’s just the mission, you know? So if you’re jealous or anything— ”

“Huh?”

I blinked. “Eh?”

She was sputtering, face red, the word ‘no’ kept tumbling out of her mouth like she’d forgotten how to form a sentence. 

I leaned back, smug creeping up my face. Oh, I got her.

“Well, I know you’ve got a crush on me. You keep admiring me, calling yourself my fan, blushing whenever we touch. Like when we shook hands that first time– ”

Her face flared crimson. “I– No— ! I do like you, and yes, I am in love with you, but jealous?!  Of that ?!”

I grinned so wide my cheeks kinda hurt. “Ah. Knew it.”

And in that instant, it clicked.

She really was in love with me. Actually, head-over-heels, no-joke. The thought hit me harder than any curse ever could. Shit… I think I liked the sound of that.

Her mouth was still open when I finished my brilliant deduction, lips parted, eyes wide. Cute. Like a koi fish.

“Besides,” I said, feeling smug, “Suguru mentioned his promise with you.”

“Yes—  wait, how did you come to— ”

“Well, it’s not hard to connect the dots.”

Oh, I was proud of that. My Six Eyes weren’t the only sharp thing about me, y’know.

“You like me. I’m being forced to listen to Amanai’s wishes. You sulked at the beach while we had fun. Jealous. You want to get rid of her.”

Her brows flew up. “Sulking at the beach?”

“You had your back to us, didn’t you? So you must have been— ”

Before I could finish, she dashed at me. Too fast. My eyes widened, my instinct kicked in— I raised Infinity. Her palms bounced against the barrier. For a split second, it was just me smirking at her futile attempt. Then… I let it go.

Her hands pressed right against my lips.

Soft. Warm. She smelled faintly sweet, like soap and maybe flowers. Calloused at the fingertips, but still delicate. I froze.

“Please just stop talking for a moment— ” she said breathlessly. “I AM NOT jealous of Amanai Riko!”

I blinked.

Her hands trembled against my mouth.

“Yes, I love you,” she pushed on, voice wavering, “but NO, that’s not why I told Suguru-senpai to make sure Riko merges with Master Tengen. She has to— if she doesn’t— we… we…”

Her strength faltered, and her palms slid down to my chin before falling slack.

I caught them. Held them gently in mine. I honestly couldn’t say anything.

She looked up at me, eyes glistening. “Also, I’ve told you to stop using your Six Eyes, haven’t I? Why won’t you listen? Why… why can’t you listen to me for once?”

My breath caught. She looked like she was about to cry and I panicked.

“I actually came here to request something of you,” I blurted.

Her lips curved into a scoff. “I know what you want. I refuse.”

“What? You know how much is at stake— ”

She shoved her hands upward again, trying to cover my mouth, but I caught them easily, my grip firm, unyielding.

“I know exactly how much is at stake!” she snapped. “That’s why you should trust me! You don’t need your Six Eyes here.You should be saving them for what’s coming!”

Her voice cracked. My chest twisted.

“And I’ve asked you— ” I shot back, maybe louder than I meant to— “Do you know something we don’t know? Wouldn’t it be better to tell us if— ”

“I can’t!” she shouted. “I can’t possibly tell you.”

Her words echoed.

Can’t tell me. That’s it.

So much for being the strongest. What good was it if my own junior didn’t trust me? If she thought I couldn’t protect them all, couldn’t finish the mission properly?

She didn’t trust me. That was the truth buried under her words. She couldn’t trust me.

The thought rang in my head until my jaw clenched unconsciously, teeth gritting.

I let go of her hands. Stood up fast, before I could do something stupid like ask her why it hurt so damn much.

“It was my fault to have disturbed you this late,” I muttered, voice flat.

I activated my Six Eyes back on. If she was going to do what she wanted without any reasonings, then I was also going to do the same.

The door rattled as I yanked it too hard. Slammed shut behind me louder than I meant to.

The cicadas outside droned on, oblivious.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, scowling down the hallway. Why was I angry? At her? At myself?

I didn’t know. All I knew was that the air in my chest burned, and for the first time in a long time, I hated the sound of my own heartbeat.

Should’ve never listened to Suguru. Should’ve never knocked. Should’ve never seen her in those damn pajamas.

So much for being in love when you couldn’t even trust each other.

 

Chapter 11: Hidden Inventory III

The damned brat was still angry at me– no, not angry. He’s giving me the cold shoulders.

His Six Eyes still glowed.

The next morning, we set out sightseeing. Canoeing in the river, then wandering through the hydrangea garden at Yohena, visiting the water stairs in Kaiyohaku Park, and finally the Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium.

It should’ve been fun. It should’ve been beautiful. Instead, every stop made me grit my teeth harder.

Because Gojo Satoru–  that idiot–  was practically glued to Riko.

He sat in front of her during lunch, next to Geto, while Riko took the seat beside Kuroi. That left me awkwardly with chairs from other tables. When I tried to drag a seat near Gojo –  because of course, that’s where the closest spot near one of the free chairs was –  he looked me dead in the eyes and said:

“Can you sit on the other side instead? You’re blocking my view.”

With a grin. A forced grin.

It wasn’t his usual teasing smirk. It was stiff, sharp at the edges.

Geto gave a little awkward laugh, and before the silence could suffocate me, he pulled a chair for me beside him, between him and Kuroi.

I sat down stiffly.

Then Gojo spent the entire meal teasing Riko. Pretending to pour hot sauce into her bowl, dangling food just out of reach, making stupid noises.

Kuroi kept glancing at me, then back at Gojo, like she wanted to say something but didn’t dare to. I ignored her. I was too pissed to care.

Geto cleared his throat. “Micchan, you’re not eating ramen?”

I forced a smile. “Mmm, I’m more of a rice person.”

“Between rice and bread, you’d still choose rice?”

“Yup. Rice is fluffy and warm, it makes you feel nice eating it. It’s more filling too than bread.”

Gojo let out this horrible bleating noise, like a goat.

“That makes soooo much sense.”

I blinked. “What does that even mean?”

Geto chuckled. “Ah, Satoru’s a bread person. So he would say that. Let’s just eat, guys.”

Gojo tsked, like a sulky child.

The rest of the meal was thick with awkward silence, the kind that settles in your chest and makes every bite taste bitter.

The next day, we returned to Jujutsu High. My anger had cooled by then–  or at least dulled into something heavy I carried at the back of my throat. I couldn’t stay mad. Not when we were this close to the gate. Not when Toji could strike at any second.

What the hell could I do anyway? Take the blade for him? I’d die instantly. Gojo wouldn’t die here.

Do I warn him? But a part of me almost wanted to see him stabbed. Just once. He wouldn’t die anyway… maybe not.

The moment we all stepped inside the barrier, everyone exhaled in relief.

“We’re here,” Riko whispered.

“Yes, we’re really here. Good work, everyone,” Kuroi added softly.

Geto’s gaze shifted to Gojo. “Satoru. Really, good job, Satoru.”

Gojo rolled his eyes and let the glow of the Six Eyes fade away. “Don’t ever give me– ”

“Wait, no!” I blurted, panic tightening in my chest. “Don’t deactivate your Six Eyes yet!”

He turned to me sharply, blue eyes cold.

“You were the one who kept telling me I didn’t need them, and now you want me to put them up? What a joke.” His tone cut deeper than any curse could. He spat the word ‘you’ like poison.

It stung. If I could see an affection meter like in a game, his affection for me is definitely in the minus zone now.

“That was then, now it’s diffe– ”

Before I could finish, a blade sliced clean through his chest from behind. His blood bloomed bright against his uniform.

“Toji!” I screamed.

Everyone froze, horror etched on their faces.

Gojo turned his head slightly, voice oddly calm despite the blood. “Have we… met before?”

Toji smirked. “Yes. But don’t mind it. We’re both similar in the way we can’t remember men’s names.”

Then Gojo blasted him away with his technique.

Geto’s cursed spirit lunged, swallowing Toji whole. “Satoru– are you okay?!”

“Yes, I’m fine. Didn’t hit anything vital, really. Just like a pin through a sweater.” He grinned faintly, blood still dripping. “More importantly, Suguru, you go alone and take Amanai to Master Tengen. I’ll deal with him myself. Michiru, too, go with him.”

“Absolutely not!” My voice cracked. “I’ll back you up with the buff– ”

“Hell no!” His glare cut through me sharper than Toji’s blade. “You’re the one who didn’t want to use your powers on me before!”

“That was before! Because you were stubborn! Now you nee– ”

“I don’t fucking need you.”

The words pierced straight through me.

Are we really doing this now? Fighting while Toji stands there, waiting to kill him?

“Micchan,” Geto said urgently, “let’s go. Let’s leave Satoru– he’ll– ”

“No he won’t!” My fists shook. “Please, take Riko to Master Tengen. I’ll back him up here.”

Gojo tsked, eyes narrowing.

Geto hesitated, torn between who to listen to, then nodded slowly. He grabbed Riko’s hand and pulled her away with Kuroi, vanishing into the distance.

Leaving me.

Alone with Gojo.

And Toji Fushiguro.

Toji sliced through Geto’s cursed spirit like it was nothing but jelly, breaking free in a shower of gore. The worm-like cursed spirit appeared clinging onto his body, pulsing and twitching with a grotesque life of its own.

Gojo’s voice was calm, but sharp like steel. “You better stay out of the way.”

Before I could protest, he surged forward, and the battle began.

The ground trembled as Gojo blasted an entire row of abandoned buildings apart with Blue.

The air warped, space folding in on itself, and suddenly everything in front of us was vacuumed into nothingness. The collapse was deafening, walls and rubble being torn to pieces and pulled into the singularity before exploding outward again. Dust rose in choking clouds. The landscape was flattened, leaving no room for Toji to hide.

Even then, Gojo’s attention was absolute, eyes glittering with a deadly light. He was magnificent and terrifying.

And yet… he was shutting me out.

When I saw him pause for a second, I grabbed his hands, forcing my cursed technique into him. Just a second of contact, just a spark of power– 

But then, he ripped his hands away– like I’d burned him.

“Don’t bother me,” he snapped. “Just stay there!”

My blood boiled. I swear, if I didn’t love him, I’d kill him with my bare hands right now.

But reality crashed back– without his acceptance, I couldn’t buff him. I clenched my fists, regret clawing at my chest. I should’ve gone with Geto. At least then I could’ve protected Riko. What the hell am I supposed to do here?

That’s when the buzzing started.

Ugly, misshapen insects with wings too big for their bodies descended on us. Some had one eye, others two, others three. Their bodies twitched, their wings hummed so loudly it drowned out every other sound. The swarm closed in like a nightmare, only stopped by Gojo’s Infinity.

Gojo and I stood back-to-back, scanning every angle. My skin crawled, my senses overwhelmed by the endless droning.

Shit, this is worse than waiting for a jumpscare in a horror movie. At least in a movie, you don’t really die.

Then, suddenly, Gojo grabbed me by the collar, pulling me close. His breath was hot against my ear.

“His target is Amanai– !”

My heart dropped. I knew this scene. If my prediction’s right… then Toji should be– 

RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

The blade flashed.

Without thinking, I shoved Gojo back, trying to take the blow for him unconsciously. But Toji was too fast, too strong. His strike caught me instead– slamming into my palm and slicing straight through into my shoulder.

“AAHHHHH!!”

Pain erupted white-hot through my body, the blade grinding against bone as it ripped through. The force hurled me backward, my blood spraying across the dirt.

I collapsed, clutching my mangled shoulder, screaming.

“MICHIRU– !!” Gojo’s voice cracked, panicked, furious. “You stupid girl– why did you– !”

Through gritted teeth, tears blurring my vision, I spat back:

“WHAT KIND OF A WIFE WOULD I BE IF I CAN’T EVEN PROTECT MY HUSBAND!”

His eyes widened.

Toji smirked, blade dripping red. “Tsk, tsk. Lovers’ quarrel? How nice your life must be, young master Gojo. And you, little girl…” He tilted his head, sharp eyes pinning me down. “You screamed my name when I stabbed him earlier. How did you know who I was?”

Shit. I really did shout his name.

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you a Zen’in?”

“I’m nobody,” I snarled, clutching my ruined shoulder. My voice shook but I forced the words out. “But I know who you are. Toji Fushiguro, ex-Zen’in member. No cursed energy. I also know about your Heavenly Restriction.”

His smirk faltered.

Gojo yanked me behind him, eyes blazing, and launched another Blue. The air distorted, collapsing– but Toji dodged, moving like lightning, his blade aimed for Gojo’s throat.

I froze. I couldn’t move. The pain was too much. And even if I could– I couldn’t see or predict where he would strike from!

Then– clink.

Toji’s blade stopped. Inches from Gojo’s skin.

“What the– ?” Toji muttered.

Gojo blinked, equally startled. Infinity shimmered, holding the blade back.

“The energy… it’s gone.”

Toji’s expression hardened. “What the hell? This blade should pierce through your Limitless. But now– it’s just gone?”

Both men turned their eyes on me.

“Michiru…” Gojo breathed.

“Huh?”

“You… awakened a new technique.”

“HUH?!”

Toji scoffed. “Tch. Whatever. I’ll just brute force my way.” He crouched, ready to spring, eyes already on the path that would lead him straight to Riko.

“No– ” I whispered.

Gojo moved to cut him off, sucking the air with another vacuum.

And suddenly, I remembered. His voice, years from now. His smug, manic laugh.

“Cursed energy is negative!” I shouted, clutching my bleeding shoulder. “Multiplying two kinds of negative energy makes a positive!”

Gojo blinked, startled. “Huh?!”

“Reverse Cursed Technique!!” My voice broke, desperate. “You– you should multiply the two negative energies and it’ll become Reverse Cursed Technique! Red!”

I didn’t even understand fully. But Gojo… Gojo should.

And he did.

“Cursed Reversal Technique– ” He raised his hand, red light flickering at his fingertips. His voice trembled at first, but then the sphere of energy surged brighter, blood-red and terrifying.

His aura shifted instantly, eyes widening. Then his lips curled into the wildest grin I’d ever seen. And then– he laughed. Maniacal. Free.

“HAHAHAHA! SO YOU WERE RIGHT! MINUS AND MINUS MAKE A PLUS– HOW THE HELL DID I NOT THINK OF THAT BEFORE?!”

The orb snapped forward, blazing into Toji like a comet. Red.

The explosion rattled the air, tearing earth and sky apart as Toji’s body was flung violently backward.

When the dust cleared, Gojo turned to me, eyes glowing, a crazed smile stretched across his face. He grabbed my bleeding hand and laughed.

“Michiru, you are– ”

But then Toji’s voice cut through the ruin.

“And so he awakens.”

He emerged from the rubble, sharper, more dangerous, smugness dripping from every word. His eyes burned with a new obsession. This wasn’t about the mission anymore. His pride as a former Zen’in had twisted it into something else.

Now it was a duel. To kill Gojo Satoru.

The worm spirit vomited, a chain unfurling, linking it to the Inverted Spear of Heaven. Toji lunged, blade aimed to end everything.

At the last second, Gojo swept me up bridal-style, and the world warped as he teleported us just beyond the blade’s reach, floating freely above ground.

His heart thundered against mine. My blood stained his uniform. And still, he grinned like a man possessed.

Gojo’s gaze sharpened, a dangerous glint flashing in his Six Eyes as he faced Toji. His lips curved into something between a smile and a snarl.

“Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one,” he declared, his voice carrying like a proclamation. “In this moment, the words felt especially true for me.”

For the briefest flicker of time, Toji’s smirk faltered. His expression wavered, as though the statement had struck deeper than he wanted to admit. But then, just as quickly, he forced a grin back onto his face, muttering under his breath as if to convince himself, No problem. Everything is going great.

The Inverted Spear of Heaven spun through the air, its chain snapping taut as it hooked around a tree. With one powerful pull, Toji swung the blade toward us like a pendulum.

I barely had time to register the movement before Gojo raised his hand, calm and deliberate, as though swatting away a child’s trick.

“Hollow Purple,” he whispered.

The air itself seemed to shiver. First came Blue, the suffocating pull of implosion, dragging space toward nothingness. Then came Red, force of repulsion, a force that blows away all in its path. And then– the two collided. Negative met negative, Reverse Cursed Technique, destruction merged with collapse, and in that instant, something impossible bloomed into existence.

Purple.

It glowed at his fingertips, humming with overwhelming power, and my heart seized in my chest. The orb shot forward, twisting the very world around it, and everything in its path was obliterated. Earth tore apart, trees vanished in a blink, and the sheer force of it ripped the air itself to shreds.

Toji had no chance. Half of his body disintegrated instantly, gone as if erased by a god’s hand. A severed arm hit the dirt with a lifeless thud, fingers twitching spasmodically. Yet somehow, impossibly, Toji remained standing, blood pouring from the nothingness of his torso. He grasped at the emptiness as if still refusing to believe it.

Gojo landed lightly, his arms still locked around me, holding me against his chest as though I were weightless. His voice was low, steady, almost cold.

“Do you have any last words?”

Toji’s breath rattled. For a moment, it seemed he might simply die with silence. But then his lips curled into that same defiant grin. 

“No– ” He stopped himself, a strange light flickering in his fading eyes.

“My child is going to be sold to the Zen’in clan in a few days,” he rasped. “Do whatever you like with it.”

And then his head bowed forward, his body swaying but never falling, as if pride alone kept him standing even as death took him.

Gojo’s breath hitched against me, just once. Shaky, almost human. He said nothing, did nothing, just held me tighter as though silence was the only answer fitting for this moment.

And then he moved. A sudden kick against the earth and we were airborne again, wind rushing past us. The ruined battlefield fell away beneath our feet, swallowed by distance.

It took me a moment to realize where we were heading, and when I did, my chest constricted.

“Wait– aren’t we going to see Riko off?”

Gojo didn’t look at me. His jaw was tight, his eyes set straight ahead, cold and unyielding. “You need to see Shoko,” he said. “To heal you.”

“But– ”

The word died on my lips when he finally turned his eyes towards me. It wasn’t anger I saw there, nor his usual teasing light. It was something sharper, heavier, as though the Six Eyes themselves had frozen into ice. He said nothing more, but the weight of that look silenced me completely.

So I pressed my lips shut and let the wind fill the silence. Only the sting of my shoulder and hand wounds reminded me I was still alive.

 

Notes:

That's a wrap!!! for Hidden Inventory!

Chapter 12: Hidden Inventory IV

Notes:

Gojo's POV

I still couldn’t believe it. Reverse Cursed Technique. After 2 years of vague ass explanation from Shoko, struggling and believing that I didn’t have the talent for it. I. GOT. IT. And the craziest part? I’d gotten the hang of it because of Michiru.

Michiru Isagi… A random girl from the Isagi family. I thought she was… ordinary, but– ? She knew too much. About the bomb that went off. About nothing happening in Okinawa. About Toji Fushiguro. I didn’t trust her. Why would I? She didn’t give me any logical explanation as to why I should entertain her orders.

Toji Fushiguro… the name rolled in my head like an echo. Former Zen’in clan member, cast aside because he had no cursed energy. But instead, he was gifted with Heavenly Restriction which traded cursed energy for pure monstrous strength and speed. The kind of opponent I should have been thrilled to fight– if he hadn’t almost killed me.

He said we’d met before. Probably when I was a kid, back when he still carried the Zen’in name. I couldn’t remember him, but something about the way he said it reverberated in my brain.

Now, we were in Shoko’s room. Michiru lay stretched out on the bed, her shoulder and hand glowing faintly as Shoko worked her Reverse Cursed Technique.

“What about you? Are you hurt?” Shoko asked without looking away from her.

I leaned casually against the wall, trying to look as unaffected as ever. “Ah, no. I’m uninjured.”

“He’s lying,” Michiru muttered, her voice a little hoarse from fatigue. “He could use Reverse Cursed Technique now, he must have healed himself.”

Shoko’s brows arched. “Oh? You finally mastered it?”

I scratched at the back of my neck. “I can use it on myself, yeah. But I still can’t figure out how to heal other people.” My fingers dug through my hair in frustration. I hated admitting when I couldn’t do something.

Michiru looked at me then. Really looked at me. Her eyes glazed, heavy, like she knew something I didn’t. Like she was seeing through me. I didn’t like it.

I pulled out my phone, flipping it open and calling Suguru. The dial tone buzzed before his voice came through, steady but rushed.
“Oy, Suguru.”

“Satoru– you’re alright?” Relief colored his words.

“Yep. Where are you at right now?”

“We’re in the lift– oi, Ri– me are– ”

“Hey, you’re breaking– ”

“ignal– rrier– ”

And then the line cut dead.

“Tch.” I snapped my phone shut. “The barrier cut off the signal, I think.” I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck again. “But I think he’s alright. Amanai too. Seems that way.”

Michiru’s voice was soft but steady. “Then let’s see Riko off now. We have to make sure she– ”

“– merges with Tengen, yes, yes. We know.” I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

That look again. She was staring at me with those eyes, like she carried a secret locked behind her ribs, like she already knew how this mission was going to end. How everything was going to end.

“I also know,” I muttered, “that we have to force her even if she doesn’t want it.”

Michiru sighed. “It’s not like I enjoy forcing a girl to do what she doesn’t want… but this…”

Shoko shook her head, cutting in. “Gojo, you go. But Michiru’s not just injured– her body’s exhausted.”

“No, I can– ” Michiru tried to sit up, her voice rising.

“You heard the expert. Stay.” I said it like I was talking to a dog. I didn’t mean it to sting, but her flinch told me it had.

Shoko laid a hand on her shoulder. “You can stay in my room. That way, I can make sure you fully recover.”

I exhaled, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I’ll leave her with you, Shoko.”

Shoko nodded once, and that was that.

I turned, leaving them behind.

The Tombs of the Star Corridor were quiet, suffocatingly so. A lift carried me down into the depths, and when the doors opened, the first thing I saw was Kuroi.

“Kuroi? Where are Amanai and Suguru?” I asked.

She straightened, bowing slightly. “Ah… they are up ahead.”

“I see. What about you? You’re not coming?”

Her lips trembled. She looked away, clutching the fabric of her skirt tightly. “My mission was to make sure Miss Riko lived until the merging day. And that means… my job is done. And I– ” Her voice cracked. Her eyes were swollen, rimmed red. She’d already been crying.

“Stuuupid,” I muttered. “If you want to see her off, then see her off properly. Come on. Let’s go.”

Her eyes went wide, shining wet. “Is that… really alright?”

“Of course, duh. Let’s go.” I started walking without waiting for her answer.

“…Yes!” She hurried after me, wiping her face.

The hallway stretched long and narrow, stone swallowing sound. At the end, it opened into the main hall– a compound of ancient wooden buildings encircling a massive tree whose roots crawled like veins into the earth. The path led straight to the base, where Master Tengen awaited.

Up ahead, Suguru and Amanai stood facing each other. He was speaking to her, but his voice was too low for me to catch.

“Oyy, Suguru!” I called, jogging up.

He turned, surprise flashing across his face. “Satoru. Kuroi? I thought you wanted to stay behind.”

Kuroi clenched her skirt again. “I really can’t… I can’t leave Miss Riko alone.” She bowed deeply, voice breaking. “Please… I beg you. Please allow me to escort her until the end.”

Suguru smiled gently. “Please raise your head, Kuroi-san. You don’t need to beg me for that.”

Her breath hitched. She straightened, wiping at her eyes, and Riko immediately fell into her arms, sobbing. Kuroi hugged her back, stroking her hair like a mother comforting a child.

Suguru glanced at me then, and for the first time all day, I let a smile slip. For a moment, it felt like maybe– just maybe– everything could end well.

Clearing his throat, Suguru continued, “As I was saying– after you descend the stairs and pass through that gate, walk to the roots of the big tree. Unlike the barrier around the school, this one is different. Only those invited by Master Tengen can enter. I think Kuroi can probably walk Riko-chan up until that point. We’ll wait for you to come back.”

Riko sniffled, wiping her tears, and nodded. Kuroi nodded too, firm this time.

“Then,” Riko said softly, “this is goodbye. Somewhere, someday… let’s all have fun again.”

Something shifted in Suguru’s eyes. Darker. He opened his mouth. “Or maybe– ”

“Suguru.” My voice cut sharp, calling him back. I shook my head gently at him. We have to make sure they merge, my gesture must have reached him. His eyes widened before he blinked and smiled again.

“Ah… maybe somewhere, someday, we’ll meet again,” he said instead.

Riko smiled back, oblivious, and took Kuroi’s hand. Together, they began walking down the long stairs, towards the tree, towards Tengen.

***

Kuroi and Riko finally reached the base of the sacred tree. At its roots lay an ancient shrine, its torii worn smooth by countless generations of caretakers and disciples. The air here was different– heavy, yet strangely serene, as though every breath carried the weight of eternity itself.

Kuroi lowered her head, her hands trembling as she held onto Riko’s shoulders.
“My lady… this is where I must stop. I can accompany you no further.”

Riko turned, eyes glistening though she wore a brave smile.
“Thank you so much for everything, Kuroi.”

They embraced tightly, clinging to one another as though that moment could last forever. For Kuroi, it felt like it slipped away too quickly. She whispered against the girl’s hair, voice breaking.
“No, the pleasure… the honor… was all mine.”

With one final squeeze, Riko released her and stepped through the great doors.

The world beyond the threshold was swallowed in light. A chamber unfolded before her– an endless expanse of white, unmarred by walls or ceiling. At its center stood… something– someone.

The being’s form was human… shifting in subtle ways that made it impossible to tell their true figure. However, Riko was sure that this person was a woman. Countless lines traced through her body like constellations, a living mandala of endless rebirth. Its presence was overwhelming, yet suffused with a peace so profound it stilled the heart.

A voice rang out within Riko’s very soul.

“Star Plasma Vessel– no… Amanai Riko. I am gladdened by your safe arrival.”

Riko’s lips parted. “You are…”

“I am. I am what they call… Tengen.” Tengen’s tone carried the weight of countless centuries, a harmony of voices.

“I am sorry to have torn you from your friends and family, but… the time for merging has come.”

Riko swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “…I understand.”

Silence followed. It was not empty, but dense, as though the chamber itself held its breath. Then Tengen spoke again, gentler, almost indulgent:

“I have felt the bond you share with your caretaker, Kuroi. Her devotion, her sorrow, her love. Though her duty is complete, I may grant her a place within this shrine– as one of my serving maidens. She would dwell here in the Tombs of the Star Corridor until the end of her life, and serve directly beneath us.”

Riko frowned slightly. “Us? You mean… you.”

“I mean us. For when the merging is done, you shall be me, and I shall be you. Two rivers flowing into one sea. Your will entwined with mine, your breath with my breath. We will be one, eternal.”

Riko’s chest ached. She had guessed it before– assimilation did not mean death. It was transformation.

I am Master Tengen, and Master Tengen is me.

“If… if that is what Kuroi wants,” she murmured, though her heart screamed to cling to her dearest companion.

Tengen’s glow brightened, the lines of its form expanding outward like blossoming petals.
“Then let us ask the one herself.”

Before Riko could question it, the light shifted– and Kuroi appeared behind her, eyes wide in disbelief. She had been allowed into the sacred chamber, a place no human should have entered unbidden.

“My… lady?” Kuroi’s voice called.

“Kuroi…?” Riko whispered.

Tengen’s voice resounded, each word vibrating through the chamber like the chime of ancient bells.

“Kuroi, caretaker of the Star Plasma Vessel. We present to you a choice. When Amanai Riko merges with us, she shall no longer be apart. She shall be Tengen, and Tengen shall be Riko Amanai. Two made one, one made two. We offer you this– to remain in our service, as our shrine maiden, eternally bound to this vessel you have cherished. Until death do you part. Do you accept this honor?”

Kuroi’s eyes filled with tears, darting from Riko to Tengen.
“I… I– ”

Riko reached out desperately. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to– ”

“Yes!” Kuroi cried, the word tearing from her throat before she could think. Her knees buckled, and she shook her head, sobbing. “Yes… it would be an honor. To serve her again… to serve both of you.”

Both of them fell to their knees, hugging each other– crying in joy.
14 years together– to eternity.

Riko’s lips trembled, and for the first time since stepping inside, she smiled– a small, relieved smile. Tengen’s expression did not change, but the air around them softened, like sunlight through leaves.

“Then it is decided. Kuroi, your path shall be prepared. One will come to guide you to your station in time. But for now… the merging must begin. Forgive us, and wait beyond.”

Kuroi bowed so deeply her forehead touched the shining floor. “Of course.”

As she backed away, the white light surged, and the chamber itself seemed to draw a breath. The union of vessel and immortal had begun.

 

***

 

Suguru eyed me the moment I arrived, suspicion flickering in his gaze.

“You’re not here with Michiru… did anything happen?”

I clicked my tongue. “The dumb girl sacrificed herself for me.”

His expression sharpened. “Is she— ”

“Don’t get it wrong– She’s fine,” I cut in quickly. My hand lifted, gesturing towards my own shoulder and palm. “The assassin— Toji Fushiguro— stabbed her here, and through here. Just like this.”

Suguru gave me a weird face.

“She’s with Shoko now, fully healed. She just needed some rest.”

Suguru exhaled, long and relieved, shoulders sagging. “That’s good news.” He put both of his arms up, shaking them in relief.

“Good news is an understatement,” I muttered. My throat felt tight, remembering her body collapsing against mine. “I would’ve been dead without her.”

“What happened exactly?” he pressed.

“Toji’s blade… it was the Inverted Spear of Heaven.” Even saying it left a bad taste in my mouth. “I’d read about it once, in one of the records back home. The only blade capable of nullifying the Limitless.”

I could still feel the cold feeling of it making its way towards my throat. “He tried to stab me here. Michiru shoved me aside, raised her hand, and— bam— took the hit herself. Then when he tried again, the weapon…” I hesitated, lowering my hand. “It was useless. The cursed energy vanished.”

Suguru frowned thoughtfully. “Vanished? That’s… interesting.”

“I think it was Michiru’s doing.”

His brows shot up. “How? She doesn’t have that kind of power.”

I tapped two fingers against my temple, over my Six Eyes. “I have really good eyes, remember? I could see the flow of her cursed energy. When she got stabbed, she… awakened. Somehow. I theorized that she’s just like me. Two techniques. Opposites. One to enhance, the other to—”

“Nullify?” Suguru finished.

I nodded, lips quirking up. “Exactly.” Then I tilted my head, almost as an afterthought. “Oh, also— I can use Reverse Cursed Technique now.”

His reaction was immediate, a soft whistle, followed by an amused smirk. “Hee… well, well. About time.”

I ruffled my own hair, half annoyed and half smug. 

But the air felt heavier when Suguru glanced towards the shrine. “Kuroi sure is taking her time,” he murmured.

“You don’t think something happened to her, right?” I muttered.

Before either of us could follow that thought further, a soft shuffle of feet echoed through the hall. A shrine maiden appeared, her expression serene, her white robes and red bottoms almost glowing under the dim light.

“Gojo Satoru-sama, Geto Suguru-sama.” Her voice was calm, even reverent. “I come on behalf of Master Tengen. My master expresses deep gratitude for your efforts. The mission has been accomplished well. However… I must inform you that Kuroi will not be returning with you.”

My body moved before my mind caught up— feet planted, hands ready to strike, cursed energy already surging to my fingertips. Beside me, Suguru shifted too, though with more composure, his guard raised but his breathing steady.

“Is something wrong?” he asked evenly.

The maiden bowed her head. “Nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite. Kuroi has been offered a position as one of Master Tengen’s shrine maidens, to serve directly under my master… and Amanai Riko.”

The tension bled out of me, my stance loosening. I scoffed softly. “So she chose to stay with Amanai till the end, huh.”

“Seems like it,” Suguru said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I exhaled, long and tired. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go home.”

He hummed in agreement, but the maiden raised her hand once more.

“Before you depart,” she said, “Amanai Riko asked me to give you this.”

From within her sleeves, she drew a folded cloth. Suguru reached forward, taking it carefully, and when we both saw what it was, my chest tightened.

“…Her headband.”

The shrine maiden inclined her head. “She also asked me to tell you this

‘Thank you for taking me to Okinawa. It was fun.’ 

That is all.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the corridors.

For a moment, silence hung between us. Then Suguru’s lips twitched, and he chuckled softly. I couldn’t help but follow, laughter spilling out of me before I even realized it.

“That brat,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“What in the world are we supposed to do with this?” Suguru asked, holding the headband like it was something sacred and ridiculous all at once.

“Maybe give it to Shoko?” I suggested dryly.

“Or maybe…” He smirked. “We can sell it online. ‘Master Tengen’s used headband.’”

That broke me— I laughed so hard I had to lean against the wall, tears stinging my eyes.

Mission Accomplished.

Notes:

The Hidden Inventory arc is finally finished! I think it wrapped up quite nicely. What do you think? Comment and Kudos are appreciated :) Btw if you're guest you can also leave comments!

Chapter 13: Kikufuku from Kikusuian

Notes:

Next chapter is going to be about saving Haibara :3

So, the last record entry must have been hard to read, huh.

To be completely honest with you, I also didn’t know why I called him my husband.

It was more of a… heat of the moment kind of thing? like my love for him was too much it kind of poured out?

But right now I’m really really rethinking my feelings.

I was already crying before he even hit me on my head. Why did I even love a guy like him in the first place? Was it because he’s handsome? Rich? Because he’s the strongest? Whatever the reason it was, It’s really hard to remember it because of how cruel he is!!!

Geto’s voice floated over me, half amused and half scolding. “Satoru, you should be more gentle.”

Gojo’s answer was immediate and cruel in the exact way that made me want to throw a textbook at him. “How, how can I even be gentle when she’s THIS dumb?”

The words hit like salt. Tears splattered onto my open math book, darkening a neat corner of algebra into a soggy blur. I sobbed, and the letters on the page wobbled as if the equations were crying with me.

Next week was theoretical exam week. Which meant that while everyone else was cramming, I was drowning in numbers. I might be bad at math or maybe it was the real Michiru who was bad at math. The line between “me” and “her” was really hard to see right now.

Haibara, bless him, was even worse. He stared at the equations like they were beasts that might bite. Nanami tried tutoring me once, gave me a cold stare and said, “You should know when to stop, just like how I know I should refuse to do the impossible.” and walked away.

So the seniors stepped in, because apparently pity comes with seniority. “We already did this test last year,” they promised. “Easy to teach,” They were all smiles and confidence. They were all wrong.

Gojo volunteered first, of course. He plopped down beside me and explained everything he knew. Two hours later, I had every answer wrong.

He singled out a simple one and tapped a finger on the page repeatedly. “Okay, what is x for this equation 4x − 3 = 5? Quick.”

My mind did that weird flip-flop that happens when panic hits: numbers swam, my fingers started counting absentmindedly. I voiced what my panicking brain grabbed first.

“M-minus four point seven eight?” I managed, voice squeaky and my eyes damp, because that was the only shape my fear could make into a number.

Gojo’s reaction was volcanic. He threw his hands into the air, eyes wide, sunglasses askew. “OH MY GOD, SHE IS ACTUALLY STUPID!! THE ANSWER WAS TWO. HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET MINUS FOUR POINT SEVEN EIGHT?”

And then the tears came.

Geto, watching from where he had been pretending to read, put his book down and gave me an almost tender, annoyed look. “Satoru, seriously,” he said quietly. “Be gentle.”

Gojo grumbled, but his voice had softened a fraction. Maybe that was all the mercy the world afforded me that hour. Geto sat closer and guided my pencil with a steady hand through a problem, the motion deliberate and patient, the kind of patient that looks ordinary but is actually care disguised as math tutoring.

Still, when the clock edged toward the end of our study window, my answers were blackened with crosses. I closed the book, the wetness on the page drying into salt marks. 

Well, there’s still tomorrow right?

Geto was next.

Gojo had missions piling up, either that or he lied about it and actually just didn’t want to tutor me, so the responsibility of keeping me from flunking math fell to Geto.

Apparently, he had ranked first in their exams last year. Shoko was second. Gojo, naturally, came in dead last.

Gojo had sworn up and down that it wasn’t because he was dumb— no, of course not— it was because he “didn’t take the exams seriously.”

Geto, on the other hand, had confessed that he’d held rank one since grade school.

So yes, I was being tutored by a certified genius.

Unfortunately, even geniuses couldn’t do the impossible.

“No,” Geto corrected me gently, tapping his pen against the page, “you should add them together and then divide it.”

“But I thought you’re supposed to divide and multiply first?” I protested, staring at the scribbles like they’d been written in alien language.

“Not if they’re in a bracket. Remember?” His tone was patient, patient enough to make me feel guilty for how little progress I was making.

Still, with him, there was progress. Small steps. But steps nonetheless.

On Saturday, two days before exams, we sat side by side again. This time, he wasn’t hovering over me correcting every stroke of my pencil. He had his own pile of notes, cramming and muttering to himself while I worked through the exercises he’d assigned. It was almost comforting, the quiet hum of mutual suffering.

“Let’s take a ten-minute break,” he finally said, setting his pen down.

“Oh my god, finally,” I sighed, stretching like I’d been released from a curse.

He chuckled softly and pulled out a thermos from his bag. Of course Geto brought tea in a flask. Of course he poured it into two cups, one for me, one for him, like we were in a cute little teahouse instead of a study dungeon.

I cradled the warm cup gratefully when he spoke again. His voice was casual, but his words were not.

“So,” he said, “when we were on that mission, you said you were going to tell me everything.”

The tea caught in my throat. I swallowed hard. “I… guess I can’t get away with it, huh.”

He just smiled faintly, waiting.

I inhaled. Exhaled.

“If I… tell you I’m from the future,” I said slowly, “would you believe me?”

I’ve spent days mulling over it. And I’ve come to the conclusion that the best explanation was to tell them that I’m from the future. Lying a bit won’t bit me in the ass later right?

“Oh, that’s what it was?”

I blinked at him. “Eh?”

Geto sipped his tea as if I’d just confirmed something obvious. “Satoru and I have been thinking of theories. One of them was that you’re a seer. But no— you just come from the future.”

“Y-yes…” My voice cracked like cheap porcelain.

“Regression, huh?” he mused. “That’s like an anime plot.”

“Hahaha… You’re taking this more easily than I expected,” I laughed awkwardly, stirring the tea just to keep my hands busy.

“And so…” he leaned in a little, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “What happened in your future?”

The laughter died in my throat. I felt it shrivel and wither inside me.

“I saw you… depressed,” I said softly.

His eyes widened, breaking their usual calm. “Depressed…?”

“In the future I was in,” I forced the words past the lump in my throat, “Riko… died. She didn’t want to merge with Tengen, and Toji killed her. And you… you fell into depression.” My hand trembled around the teacup. “You became an evil curse user.”

Geto’s expression flickered, disbelief and something darker crossing his face in a heartbeat. Then he managed a crooked, almost wry smile.

“An evil curse user?” He tilted his head, his voice quiet. “Are you sure you didn’t mistake me for Satoru?”

I’m glad Geto was really accepting, but now I’m wondering whether he’s really okay or not.

“Suguru-senpai, please be honest with me. Are you… feeling like… down, or like unsure about yourself, or your path or— “

“I’m alright, Micchan. Thank you for caring,” he smiled softly, “and thank you for asking.”

I exhaled relievedly.

“As to why I’m not worried about your origin… I know you’re not bad, evil or whatever it is. I know you’re here watching over us to change the worst case scenario. So, I’m kind of relieved too,” He confessed.

“Yes. I… I didn’t want you to die, senpai. We need you… Satoru-senpai needs you.”

 “Thank you,” he said politely, “I’ll make sure to consult with you anytime a dark thought ever crosses my mind,” he joked.

He joked, but I really hoped he would actually do that. One of the main causes of Geto’s defection was loneliness. That’s so much easier to fix rather than to not allow him to absorb any cursed spirits ever again

“I have something to say as well… Truthfully, I almost offered Riko-chan to stay. Now, I’m glad that Satoru stopped me before I could say it,”

“Ah! I knew it! You did it previously! That’s why I told you to promise me, I can’t believe you almost broke our promise!” I teased him as he chuckled

“And also… Is the future thing, something you want to share with others or…?” Geto asked.

Shoko knowing things didn’t really matter but Gojo…?

“I… I think for now, let’s keep it a secret. I’ll tell the others when the time is right.” I answered.

Geto only nodded and the ten-minute-break quickly went by then we both went back to studying.

That same night, Gojo returned from his mission.

I could tell because the boys’ dorm was suddenly alive with noise— Haibara’s voice carrying down the halls, bright and excitable, and Nanami’s tired drawl cutting through. Something about souvenirs floated faintly through the commotion.

Eventually, the noise died down, and the hall grew quiet again. Until I heard a knock.

For a split second, I thought it was my door, but no— it was the one right next to mine. Shoko’s.

Her sleepy voice came muffled through the wall. “What is it?”

Gojo’s voice was unmistakable, chipper even this late. “I come bringing souvenirs!”

…And why the hell was I pressing my ear against the wall, listening in like some stalker?

Would he… give me one too?

“Ah, this one’s for Micchan,” Gojo said cheerfully. “Please give it to her for me.”

My heart stopped. Wait. He’s not giving it to me himself?

Shoko’s response was swift, unimpressed. “Not happening. You give it to her yourself.”

“Eeeehhh…” he groaned.

“I heard you made her cry yesterday,” Shoko scolded. “You should apologize.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t face her right now! Pleassseeee— ”

“Nonsense,” Shoko cut him off. “She’ll be happy to receive a present from you.”

“…You think so?” he asked, quieter.

“One hundred percent.”

There was a long pause. Then, Gojo sighed, dramatic but resigned. “Fine, I’ll give it to her.”

“Good,” Shoko said, followed by a yawn and the thud of her door closing.

Footsteps shifted in the hallway, heading toward my room. My heart stuttered, thundering so loud I thought he’d hear it from outside.

I scrambled to the mirror. Pajamas— cute. Hair— not messy. Face… decent. Good enough.

The footsteps stopped right at my door. A full minute ticked by in silence before a knock finally came.

“Yes?” My voice came out too high, too fast.

“It’s me.” His voice was low. “I have something for you.”

Okay. Stay cool. Totally normal. You’re not about to pass out. This is… going to be the first time ever you receive something from Gojo Satoru himself– the Pocari bottle didn’t count by the way.

I opened the door.

Gojo stood there in a baby blue short-sleeved button-up shirt and white pants, casual but it suited him perfectly. His white hair was a little messy, like he’d just run his hand through it.

“Here,” he said, holding out a small bag. “Kikufuku from Kikusuian.”

My eyes widened. “From Sendai?”

He blinked, surprised. “Oh, you know the store?”

I nodded quickly.

“You sure know your mochis,” he said with a grin. “So you should like this.”

I’d never had it before— the real Kikufuku from Kikusuian— but I’d seen about it in the anime. And Gojo… liked it. Which made me want to try it even more.

“Thank you so much, senpai,” I said softly.

But then an idea sparked, reckless and trembling in my chest.

“A-ah, senpai!” I blurted, clutching the bag. “D-do you want to eat them together? I can make tea with it.”

For a split second, his smile faltered.

“Ah… uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, gaze darting aside. “It’s kinda late, isn’t it? And I just got back from a mission. So… maybe next time?”

The little flame in my chest flickered out.

“O-oh, of course,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Then, thank you again. And have a good night.”

He gave a short nod, almost awkward, before turning away down the hall.

I stood there in my doorway, holding the bag of Kikufuku to my chest, my heart still beating too fast.

That was… tragic. Ugh. I should have never asked him…

 

 

***

[Gojo Satoru’s Point of View]

 

 

The Sendai mission wasn’t hard, but damn, it was long. By the time I dragged myself back through Jujutsu High’s gates, I was half-dead and half-starving. Still, I made sure to stop at Kikusuian before heading home. Souvenirs were the least I could do— well, that and because I wanted some Kikufuku for myself.

“Here, here! Everyone gets it, so no need to push!” I announced, shaking the bags like they were sacred artefacts.

“Thank you so much, senpai!!” Haibara practically bounced, his grin so wide, “I heard the mochi is to die for!”

Nanami eyed me suspiciously as he took his share. “This is rare. Usually you never think of us at all.”

“Ehhhh, that’s not true!” I grinned. C’mon, Nanami, say no. Reject it. I need extras.

But he didn’t. He just sighed like a tired old man and shuffled away with his mochi. Betrayal.

Suguru stood beside me, arms crossed, wearing that little knowing smirk. The kind that said I can read you like the back of my hand.

“I should’ve bought more for myself,” I muttered.

“Eh?” Haibara blinked.

“Nope, nothing. Go to sleep, Haibara.”

“Then~ good night everyone!” He bounded off, humming to himself.

Suguru lingered. “So, whose are those?” He nodded at the two remaining bags in my hand.

“This one’s for Shoko. This one’s for Michiru.”

“Hoo. You can have mine if you want it that badly.”

“Nah. I already gave it to you. What kind of scum am I if I asked for it back?”

He chuckled, clapped me on the shoulder, and left. Which meant it was time for… that.

I walked to the girls’ dorm wing, feet dragging like lead.

First stop: Shoko. Knock, knock. Door creaked open. She peered out at me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“What is it?”

“I come bringing souvenirs!” I held the bag up like it was a bribe. “This one’s for Micchan. Please give it to her for me.”

“Not happening. You give it to her yourself.”

“Eeeehhh.”

“I heard you made her cry yesterday.”

Damn. Did Suguru tell her? My stomach dropped. I might’ve gone too far when she kept botching the math questions, but how the hell was I supposed to stay calm when she got negative answers for things that should’ve been whole numbers?

“That’s the reason why I can’t face her right now though, so pleassseeee— ”

“Nonsense. She’ll be happy to receive a present from you.”

“…You think so?”

“One hundred percent.”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll give it to her.”

“Good.” She yawned, shut the door, and left me standing there like an idiot.

So there I was. Alone. With a bag of mochi. In front of Michiru’s door.

I froze.

There was shuffling inside, the sound of something knocking over, fabric rustling. Was she… panicking?

My pulse quickened. Why the hell am I nervous?

I exhaled slowly and knocked.

“Yes?” Her voice came from the other side. Soft, hesitant.

“It’s me,” I said. “I have something for you.”

Did my voice crack? It didn’t, right? No. I sounded cool. Totally cool.

The door opened.

And there she was.

Pink. A pastel, sleeveless pajama set that looked way too thin for my sanity. Her hair was loose, framing her face in soft waves. She looked… casual. Vulnerable. Beautiful in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

And then my brain betrayed me, dragging up that memory— her voice sharp with conviction.

“WHAT KIND OF A WIFE WOULD I BE IF I CAN’T EVEN PROTECT MY HUSBAND!”

Wife… Wife… She’s my wife and I’m… her husband. The words slammed into me like a curse technique.

My throat went dry. My eyes trailed from her bare shoulders to the way her hands nervously clutched the doorframe.

Michiru.

Did she… mean me? Was I her future husband?

Suguru and I had thrown around theories, but I personally thought she was clairvoyant— That’s how she knew about the bomb, that’s why she knew everything. If she was a seer, then— did she know? When will we get married? How many kids? Would they have white hair? Would I have to— 

“Here!” I shoved the bag into her hands before my thoughts killed me. “Kikufuku from Kikusuian.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “From Sendai?”

“Oh, you know that?” I’m really surprised she knew about it, but now that I think about it, if you like sweets, you would know Kikusuian. So maybe, Michiru liked sweets?

She nodded.

“You sure know your mochis. So you should like this, then.”

She gazed at the bag like it was a treasure chest. “Thank you so much, senpai.”

A wave of relief washed over me. Okay. That went well. I could leave now— 

But then—  

“A-ah, senpai! D-do you want to eat them together? I can make tea with it.”

Oh shit.

My heart slammed against my ribs. My ‘future wife’ just invited me inside. Late at night. Kikufuku, tea, just the two of us. The image was too clear—  warm lamplight, her laughter, her sitting next to me on the bed in those pink pajamas, leaning in close…

Married couple. That’s what it felt like.

And married couples… did other things too.

Is intercourse before marriage allowed in the Gojo Clan— Do I even care about such rules? What would I do if she gets pregnant? Do... Do women have a high libido? 

I heard that when women are ovulating they tend to be more... excited. What if she's ovulating and that this was her sign to invite me to have se-- NOPE. I'm thinking too much into it. And I'm also not ready to be a teen father.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

“Ah… uh, it’s kinda late, isn’t it?” I scratched my neck, forcing out a laugh. “And I just got back from a mission. So… maybe next time?”

Her smile faltered. The disappointment on her face was like a stab to the chest.

“O-oh, of course. Then, thank you again. And… have a good night.”

I panicked. My feet moved before I could say anything else. I bolted down the hall.

Shit. She looked so sad.

But also so cute. Shit.

And now I was wide awake, doomed to replay this moment all night.

 

 

 

Notes:

Remember that Gojo is just a highschool boy, so he’s probably more hormonal and horny than we thought (i see you Gojo with Inoue Waka wallpaper). This chapter is more for the comedic effect, and so don’t think too much about them being underaged. There won’t be sexual content anytime soon. I’ll probably also separate it if there’s sexual content.

Also about the bad at math trope, i just thought it was funny, so please don’t take offense.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Unofficial Records of Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerers