Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I originally wrote this as a self-indulgent fic, but then I figured “why not post it on ao3?”

I based the protagonist on a self-insert OC, but I switched out my OC’s name with (Y/N) so it’s a little easier for you to insert yourself into. If I use any other abbreviations, like (F/C) for favorite color or (E/C) for eye color, I’ll include what they mean in the notes. I’ll also do my best to include potential trigger and/or content warnings where applicable.

All chapter titles, as well as everything related to reader’s technique, is a Sleep Token reference. They’re all I listen to help 😭

Some basic rules and guidelines:

1. All non-OC characters belong to Gege.

2. If you notice any plot holes or inconsistencies, no you don’t (:

3. I’m good at grammar, but sometimes I make typos that I miss while proofreading! If you notice a small typo, kindly point it out to me and if it is indeed wrong, I’ll fix it.

4. As a reminder, I originally wrote this for myself and (Y/N) is a self-insert based heavily off of me. She is feminine, and feminine pronouns and titles will be used throughout the work.

4.5. I also talk about hobbies, interests, and clubs throughout the work. If anything I write doesn’t apply to you, just ignore it.

5. If at any point you decide you don’t like this fic, the dislike button is at the corner of your screen and it’s shaped like this: ←

6. This is my first published fic. Positive feedback and constructive criticism from you—yes, YOU—are greatly appreciated!

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

I like to think I’m normal.

Of course, everyone likes to think they’re normal. Everyone likes to try to achieve some semblance of belonging in society, some demeanor that other people don’t put too much effort into perceiving. They try to guess what other people think of as normal, assume it’s the same as theirs, adopt a lifestyle that doesn’t draw attention. Everyone’s normal is a little different.

My normal is being surrounded by curses.

I have been able to see cursed spirits for as long as I can remember. I am the only person in my family who is able to do so; cursed spirits are invisible to my parents, my friends, and even my younger sister.

When I was younger and I hid behind my parents’ legs from the “weird scary guys,” they always assured me that I was just seeing things and that nothing was actually there. To be honest, I understand why they said that; if my child was claiming to see scary creatures that were invisible to me, I’d blame it on an overactive imagination too. After a while, though, I guess my cowardice began to annoy them.

When I was nine years old, I overheard my mother suggest putting me on antipsychotics. After that evening, I stopped pointing out and even acknowledging cursed spirits. The grotesque creatures that once scared me half to death were another presence I was forced to ignore.

That is, until a few weeks after I turned 16.

Marching band practice, my evening commitment until the end of June, is nearing an end for the night. We spent the evening learning the final movement of our show, and we've been rerunning it in full for about 20 minutes. As I turn to salute, I notice a man dressed head-to-toe in black, sitting on the curb and watching from 50 or so feet away. I assume he is another member’s relative, but I’ve never noticed him at any of our practices or performances before. His presence is unlike any I have ever experienced, even from such a distance…

I brush it off until after practice ends and I eagerly walk to my car. I just got my driver’s license a few weeks ago, and nothing compares to the feeling of being able to travel by myself and not rely on others.

“Excuse me, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?”

The man from earlier approaches me. His English is accented, yet structured, as if it isn’t his first language and yet he is fluent in it. How he can see through that... blindfold...? I have no idea.

I’m not stupid. I know to be wary of strangers, especially men. Even so, though, would it be so bad to listen to what this guy has to say...?

“Depends,” I say, “what do you want to say to her?”

“Nothing terribly urgent,” the man replies, “I just wanted to show her this.”

He pulls a small cage out of seemingly nowhere. Inside the cage, gripping the bars with its tiny hands, sits a smaller version of those things I was scared of when I was a kid.

I lean in a little, just enough to inspect the creature. “The hell is that...?”

“This is a cursed spirit,” the man explains. “The fact that you can see it means you possess an extraordinarily rare ability. Tell me, (Y/N), how would you like to start attending school in Tokyo?”

Tokyo...?

I don’t remember exactly how old I was when my parents placed me in Japanese language classes. I was the type of child one would call “gifted,” and in order to strengthen that, my parents wanted me to learn another language of my choosing. Why I chose Japanese, I still don’t know; maybe I liked the appearance of hiragana? In any case, I have been nearly fluent in Japanese since age 13, despite never being able to put that education to good use. I made my parents promise that if an opportunity ever arose for me to study abroad in Japan, they would let me take it.

Now, although it’s a little short-notice, I have the perfect opportunity.

“I think it’d be cool.”

“Great!” The man exclaims. “I’ll admit you to the Tokyo Jujutsu Technical High School right away. There, you’ll learn to exorcise curses under my guidance. You’ll be one of only four first years.”

I stare at the man blankly.

...Is this real?

Jujutsu? Like... sorcery? Is this the Japanese equivalent of a Hogwarts letter? And only four first years?! The smallest class size I’ve ever had is fourteen!

Normally, I would have brushed off everything he was saying as some insanely elaborate scam. After all, I’ve wanted to study in Japan for years. Now that I’m finally getting the opportunity, it seems too good to be true. I’ve never told anyone about that dream, though, so there’s no way he could have known... Maybe it’s his slightly accented English, but he sounds like he really could have come all the way from Tokyo just to scout me...

I look around at the parking lot on which I and dozens of others had just been practicing, now empty save for me, this man, and my car. Am I ready to leave this behind so soon?

Well, if I don’t take this opportunity, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

“Can it wait until the end of June?” I ask. “I’m kind of busy until then.”

“Of course,” he agrees. “You can start as soon as you’re able.”

He scribbles something on a piece of paper, then rips it and hands it to me.

“Here’s my phone number,” he explains. “I want you to call me whenever you’re ready to order your uniform and buy a plane ticket. I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to go and pick up souvenirs for the other first years. Talk to you soon!”

He turns and begins to walk away.

“Wait,” I call out, “I didn’t catch your name.”

He turns back to me and chuckles.

“Oh, right.”

He extends a hand.

“Satoru Gojo.”

“Alright, cool,” I say, shaking his hand. “I guess that’s Mister Gojo to me, since you’re my teacher now?”

“Sure,” he replies. “Bye-bye now!”

He walks away. Finally, I enter my car and sigh.

Well, this is going to be an interesting conversation with my parents.

I’ll spare the messy details of the conversation. They allow me to go to Tokyo, as long as I come back home for the holidays and for vacations longer than two weeks. They will continue to pay me a weekly allowance, but they will bump up the amount just a bit so that I can pay for necessities. If I need to fly back for any reason, they will pay for my plane ticket.

Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be.

I call Mr. Gojo two evenings later, and I can’t help but notice that he sounds a little tired. Maybe I caught him at a bad time, or maybe his flight had just landed? He assists me in ordering and customizing my uniform, as well as buying a plane ticket and arranging to accompany me from the airport to the campus. After I arrive, I will get a day to recover from traveling and get oriented at my own pace, then I will start as a student at Jujutsu Tech.

Wow, I didn’t think this day would come. I had dreamed of studying in Japan, but I never thought I’d actually be able to do it. My biggest dream is finally coming true!

— — — — —

The only nonstop flight to Tokyo around early July is the morning after the marching band awards ceremony, meaning I don’t have much time to relax. I spent the past few days performing in parades and accepting awards, then coming home and stuffing as many of my belongings as would fit into my new (F/C) suitcases. We arranged to have my car shipped overseas since I'll be there more often and will actually use it. On the day of the flight, my parents drive me to the airport, accompanying me all the way to the gate. I would most likely arrive in Tokyo at around 6PM the following day. (It’s 4AM where I live, so hopefully my ‘we landed!’ text doesn’t wake my parents.)

The flight lands closer to 7PM. I don’t have trouble reading the signs, but even so, I can’t help but feel a little disoriented. Fortunately, my assistance is easy to spot in a crowd.

I can’t tell whether it’s his height, the rest of his appearance, or the fact he began waving like a maniac upon noticing me—probably all three—but I spot Mr. Gojo almost right away. He updates me on everything—or, at least everything I would have asked about had I not been exhausted. My car is parked in a small garage on the outskirts of campus; my car keys, uniform, and student ID are ready and waiting for me in my dorm room; and the other first years have been instructed to leave me alone while I take the following day to recover from traveling.

I can already tell this guy is going to be one of the coolest teachers I’ll ever have. I guess when you only have four students, getting along with them is pretty easy. It probably helps that he's young, too.

When I heard about a "campus," I expected a collection of geometric buildings, similar to a modern college. I’ll admit, though, it takes my breath away anyway.

Or maybe that’s just the trek up the mountain.

Mr. Gojo and I walk uphill, each dragging a suitcase, until we pass through a tall, red gateway. Immediately, a feeling of peace surfaces within me. Is that because of the gateway...?

I can’t help but look around. The majority of campus is forested, lush, thriving in the summer weather. Traditional buildings occasionally break up the forest, towering above the canopy. They look almost ancient, as though they’ve been there for centuries. The sounds of nature are foreign, but comforting all the same; cicadas maybe? It’s different from what I’m used to, for sure, but wow...

...it’s beautiful.

Mr. Gojo leads me to the first year dorm building, constructed in the same style as the rest of them, and shows me to my room. It’s right next to another first year’s, the only other girl by the looks of it. I can’t quite sound out her name; something-Zaki? I really should have paid more attention to how to read kanji...

I had low expectations for the dorm room, but upon walking in, I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s much bigger than my bedroom back home. Hardwood floors, large windows behind blackout curtains, my own bathroom... it’s nothing shy of amazing.

Mr. Gojo leaves the room, and I flop down onto the bed, exhausted. At least I have another day to recover...

The school year here starts in April. That means the other first years already have a head start. I’ll need to work harder to get caught up, but I can handle it; I’ve always been an insanely fast learner. After all, I learned Japanese in only a few years.

I don’t know what time I fall asleep. When I wake up the next day, it’s nearly noon. I figure with my extra day off, I can at least try to make this place more like home. Was I seriously so exhausted that I slept without a blanket...?

I make my bed and hang up my clothes, including my new uniform, in the provided wardrobe. I hang up some posters and decorate my desk. All of my other belongings end up either still in my suitcases or haphazardly thrown onto the floor. It’s far from home—both metaphorically and physically—but it’ll suffice for now.

Chapter Text

Being ready on time has never been my strong suit, but somehow I do so today. I almost don’t want to see how I look in the uniform—school uniforms are never flattering, after all—but I look in the mirror anyway.

Oh, wow, I didn’t expect it to look so... cute.

The uniform fits me surprisingly well. The jacket is cropped, and the pants are high-waisted, two columns of decorative buttons attached down the front seams, creating the illusion of a corset. They’re fitted down to the knee, then they flare out. It’s also customized with color: a light pink stripe around the jacket’s collar and cuffs, as well as on the hem of the pants.

When I exit the building, Mr. Gojo is waiting for me.

“The other first years are already on their way. We’re a bit behind,” he explains.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” I mumble.

“Nah, it’s fine. They’re used to it by now.”

We approach a building much larger than the dorms, probably the main school building. Mr. Gojo steps inside first, and I follow him closely.

We stop outside what I can only assume is a classroom. “Wait here,” he tells me, sliding the door open. He steps into the room, and I watch from outside as he slides the door shut.

The longer I stand outside the classroom just waiting, the more anxiety builds up in my stomach. I trust my ability to speak Japanese, but I’ve never spoken to actual Japanese natives my age before.

“Attention, we have a new student!” I hear him exclaim through the door with a little too much enthusiasm.

What kind of people am I about to start learning alongside? I’ve never met anyone else who can see those things—those curses, I think he said they were called—so I have no way of knowing what to expect. What if our personalities clash? What if they don’t like me? What if I get ostracized from yet another group? What if I—

“Alright, you can come on in now!”

Mr. Gojo’s voice from the other side of the door brings me back to reality. Taking a deep breath to try to calm myself down, I slide the door open and step inside.

The room feels, above all else, empty. This classroom could easily fit fifteen, maybe twenty desks, but there are only three, stationed near the front of the room. I know there are only a handful of first years, but filling a decent-sized classroom with that few desks feels wrong somehow.

That isn’t the only reason for the tense atmosphere. The other first years, a mean-looking girl and a tired-looking boy with unkempt hair, are staring daggers at me. Their guards are up. Am I supposed to have my guard up, too?

“Alright, you two,” Mr. Gojo begins, “I’d like you to meet...”

He trails off, and that’s my cue.

“(Y/N),” I force myself to say, “I’m from America. It’s nice to meet you, and I’m excited to work with you!” I smile, hoping to lighten the mood at least a little.

The girl speaks up first. “I’m Nobara Kugisaki,” she announces, pointing to herself with her thumb. (So that’s how her name is pronounced...)

“I’m glad to see another girl in the mix,” she adds. “It gets so tiring being the group’s girl.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I say, not knowing how else to respond. Well, at least she’s confident...

I look over at the boy.

“Fushiguro,” he mumbles, opting to make eye contact with the chalkboard instead of with me. This guy doesn’t seem to care at all about making a good first impression; at least pretend to try, man!

“So, (Y/N),” Mr. Gojo says, breaking the awkward silence, “wanna tell us about your cursed technique?”

I stare at him, a blank expression on my face. Cursed technique...? The only “cursed technique” I know is intarsia crochet!

“What?” I ask, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“You know, how you channel your cursed energy!” He explains. “Do you use cursed tools, or Shikigami, or are you more of a close-range fighter?”

“I...”

I try to form a sentence that won’t make me sound dumb. What is this guy talking about? What in the world is Shikigami? What does combat have to do with any of this?

“I... don’t know what any of that is,” I confess. “I’m sorry, I really should have done some research before I came here.” I bow slightly in apology.

“It’s alright,” Mr. Gojo assures, “I can teach you. That is my job, after all. In the meantime, I want you two—”

He gestures to my two classmates, whose names I didn’t commit to memory. Damn it.

“—to focus on close-range combat.”

Close-range combat? What the hell am I going to learn at this school...?

— — — — —

“Okay, so...”

I speak slowly, skimming over the chalkboard, then my chaotic, disorganized notes.

“...cursed energy is what you already have, and cursed technique is how you harness that cursed energy?”

“Almost,” Mr. Gojo confirms. “Think of cursed energy as electricity and cursed techniques as electrical appliances. Electricity by itself is hard to use, so we run that electricity through electrical appliances to achieve various results.”

I sit at a desk, the one that was empty before, while Mr. Gojo stands in front of the chalkboard. For the past 20 minutes or so, he has done his best to explain the basics of curses and cursed energy in terms I can understand. Now, I’m finally starting to put the pieces together.

“Okay, that makes sense,” I say. “So, cursed energy is like a ball of yarn, and cursed technique is a finished crochet project? You take the ball of yarn and, with some effort, turn it into something tangible and useful, but also customized to your liking.”

“I suppose so,” he affirms, “if that analogy makes more sense to you.”

“So, once I find my cursed energy, I can choose any cursed technique I want?”

“No.”

Wow, that was blunt.

“You can’t use just any cursed technique,” he clarifies. “Cursed techniques are fundamentally etched into your body from the day you’re born.”

“So, I just have to find my cursed technique?” I ask.

“If you even have one,” he explains. “If you don’t, then you can experiment with cursed tools or simple Shikigami. But, if you do, then it should have manifested when you were about five or six years old. Do you remember anything strange happening around that time?”

“Let me think for a second,” I mumble, mostly to myself.

Five or six... that was around the age I started noticing that other people weren’t perceiving curses. It was when I realized that curses could see me, too. I don’t remember having any sort of energy or technique I could have used to fend them off.

This one time, though...

“Wait, now that you mention it, maybe I have used a cursed technique.

“One time, when I was about four or five,” I begin, “I was walking with my parents, and I heard a sound. I turned around, and there was a thing—or, a curse, I guess—right behind me, and it really startled me. I remember flinching and covering my face with my arms, and all of a sudden, there was this, like... glowing blueish wall between me and the curse, like a forcefield or something. I don’t know if that means anything,” I add, “but maybe that might be something we can work with?”

Mr. Gojo is silent for a second; he’s thinking.

“If that is your technique,” he begins, “it sounds like one that specializes in defense. We can work with that. Try making one of those forcefields right now.”

“Alright, I’ll try my best, but no promises that anything will happen,” I say.

I close my eyes and try to focus. The only time I’ve ever been able to do it was that one time, and that was over ten years ago. I haven’t even tried to do it again since!

“Sorry if this is a stupid question,” I say, opening my eyes again, “but what exactly am I supposed to be channeling right now? Like, is there a specific emotion or feeling that I should be focusing on?”

“Cursed energy requires negative emotions,” Mr. Gojo explains. “Students are trained to produce cursed energy using even the faintest sparks of emotion.”

He steps toward my desk and crouches down to meet me at eye-level.

“You're struggling because you like to push those negative emotions aside, don’t you?”

My eyes narrow. This is a lesson, not a therapy appointment.

“Do I have to answer that?”

He sighs, forcing a chuckle. “No, you don’t, but the fact that you’re refusing tells me the answer is yes.”

I don’t say anything to that. I can’t; he’s right.

“Normally,” he continues, “cursed energy flows in one of two ways: it either leaks out of the body, or it’s circulated through it. Jujutsu sorcerers are the latter. You, though...”

He lifts his blindfold just enough to reveal a striking blue eye. Behind the shadow his hand casts, it almost appears to be glowing.

“...You’re a special case. That's why I scouted you.”

I stay silent. What the hell does that mean?

“You’ve been storing your cursed energy, likely without even realizing it,” he continues. “If you want to master your cursed technique, you need to let those emotions emerge. You need to allow yourself to use that cursed energy you’ve been storing up. So, when you produced that forcefield all those years ago, what were you feeling?”

How the hell did he figure all of this out?!

“Well,” I begin slowly, “definitely fear. Maybe a little bit of anger or frustration from being startled, so... I guess I have to channel fear and anger?”

“Hey, you’re a fast learner!” he exclaims, standing back up. “Try making one of those forcefields again, the same way you did before, but this time, try to focus your energy into replicating those emotions. Remember, allow them to emerge.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” I say, closing my eyes again. All I have to do is just channel fear and anger, then manifest that as a forcefield, right? Well, it’s a lot easier said than done—

“Boo!”

Mr. Gojo shouts and jolts my desk, making me shriek and flinch.

“Hey, why the hell did you do that?!” I demand.

He lets go of the desk. “Look at your hands.”

I examine my hands, which had instinctively gone up to shield my face. They look different now: there’s a fire-like aura emitting from my fingertips, the very same shade of electric blue as whatever I conjured all those years ago.

He smiles, satisfied with me, or maybe with himself. "That’s why.”

The aura fades as quickly as my fear and frustration are replaced with awe and shock. Was that...

“Was that my cursed energy?” I ask excitedly.

“It was,” he confirms. “Now, here’s your homework: I’d like you to focus on keeping your cursed energy flowing. Then, we can work on improving your forcefield technique. Tell me, do you do any sort of meditation at all?”

“Not really,” I say. “I like to listen to music, though, that’s pretty relaxing sometimes.”

“Well, there you go,” he replies. “Your first assignment is to listen to your favorite playlist from start to finish while maintaining a steady output of cursed energy.”

“Alright, an hour or so? I can do that. Thanks for the lesson, it was super helpful.”

I slide my notebook into my bag, then stand up and approach the door.

Wait.

Didn’t Mr. Gojo say that there are four first years? I only met two of them, and including myself, that makes three...

“Hey, by the way...”

I turn around.

“...I think I remember you telling me there are four first years including me. Where’s the other one?”

Mr. Gojo sighs.

“Well...”

He says it slowly, then pauses, as if he’s debating answering my question at all. Finally, he speaks:

“He died.”

“Oh...”

A hand flies up to cover my mouth. He said that so casually; are student deaths common here?

What the hell did I sign up for?!

Chapter Text

Cursed energy isn’t actually that difficult to control.

By the following morning, I completed my assignment. I kept my cursed energy flowing steadily for an hour, the length of my favorite album, and got familiar with the feeling of it. Now, to figure out how to channel that energy into my very own cursed technique.

Of course, there’s a chance that the forcefield I created all those years ago isn’t my technique. If that’s the case, I might have to start over from square one. Or, I might have to start using tools, and that sounds—

“Hey! Watch where you’re walking, newbie!”

I break out of my trance and look up to see one of my classmates, the girl, standing in front of me, a hand on her hip and a threatening expression on her face. I guess I walked in front of her door as she exited her room, and we almost collided?

“Oh, I’m really sorry,” I say, bowing as low as I can without bumping into her. “I was lost in thought, I guess, I didn’t mean to—”

“Woah, jeez, it’s alright,” she interrupts, “I’m not actually mad. Your uniform looks nice, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks,” I say, toying with one of the pink cuffs of my jacket. “I wanted to make the stripes (F/C), but I thought it would clash.”

(A/N: if your fave color is pink just ignore this)

“I think the pink looks way better anyway,” she replies, “it goes better with your skin tone. Your skin looks great, by the way, what’s your routine?”

I sigh. I’ve had this conversation before.

“Would you get mad at me if I said I didn’t have one?”

“So you don’t do anything?!” She crosses her arms and fakes a pout. “You people with good genetics don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

“Well, it’s not genetics, I’m wearing makeup,” I explain, “and I didn’t say I don’t do anything.”

We talk about skincare as we walk to class together. I forgot to pay attention to the route again; I’ll have to walk with her tomorrow, too.

“Your name’s (Y/N), right?” She asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Could you... remind me of yours too?”

“Nobara,” she replies, “and don’t worry about that whole calling-people-by-their-last-name thing. That’s only for strangers, and we’re friends now, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that.”

Well, that was fast.

“Good. We get along really well,” Nobara continues, “and you’re much easier to talk to than that brick wall Fushiguro. He takes everything way too seriously, and he never tells us anything about himself.”

As she rants, I begin to feel something strange, yet familiar: perceived, watched, like a camera or a pair of judging eyes is on me.

“Ugh, and don’t even get me started on how he texts. Think of the driest texter you know. Yeah, Fushiguro’s worse.”

The feeling evolves into something much more sinister. We’re not being watched, we’re being hunted. How does Nobara not sense that something is wrong?

“He uses the little thumbs-up react bubble for everything, not even the emoji. Like, come on, man, at least put in a little bit of effort!”

Curiosity—well, paranoia—gets the best of me, and I begin to look around. As I glance over my shoulder, I see the root of all of my anxiety. Fushiguro himself walks a few paces behind the two of us, glaring at Nobara with some combination of tiredness and annoyance.

“Nobara...” I grab the sleeve of her jacket, silencing her. Her eyes follow my own.

“Oh, hey, Fushiguro,” she says, “we were just talking about you. All good things, don’t worry.”

He looks at me, as if expecting me to elaborate.

“Just so you know,” I explain, “she was talking shit.”

He makes an annoyed sound, something between a sigh and a scoff. Nobara scoffs as well, clearly disappointed in me for exposing her.

The three of us walk in silence for a few moments before Nobara speaks again.

“You’re being quieter than normal today, Fushiguro,” she remarks. “Got a crush on the new girl?”

“Shut up,” Fushiguro mutters.

Nobara gasps. “He speaks! And not only that, he’s avoiding the question!”

“I don’t have a crush on her,” he presses. “Would you please just drop it?”

“Good.” She grabs my arm and lowers her voice. “You’re too good for him anyway. Trust me, you can do way better than him.”

“I heard that.”

— — — — —

“Man, this place is creepy,” I offer, trying to break the awkward silence as we enter the building.

We got sent on a mission, my very first one: a classic search-and-rescue job. We are to search an old elementary school and rescue any kids trapped there.

Of course, children aren’t the only thing we need to look out for. There’s a high probability that cursed spirits are still in the building, lying in wait. The air inside is heavy, hot, brimming with energy I can only describe as bad. It reminds me of stepping out of the airport after flying into a humid city...

As I’m already acquainted with Nobara, Mr. Gojo sends Fushiguro to accompany me. Although, it’s more like I’m the one accompanying him. The entire time we’ve been inside, I’ve merely been following him around like a duckling...

“Listen,” Fushiguro starts, “you’re in charge of getting any kids we find out of here. If and when we encounter a cursed spirit, don’t fight. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay, sounds good. Should we split up?” I offer. “You know, cover more ground?”

“No, let’s stick together,” he decides. “Gojo said the curses here are only second-grade at best, but there’s no telling whether or not that’s the case. I’m the only one of us who can stand a chance against any curse.”

Wow, he’s right, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“If we find some kids who need rescuing,” he continues, “then you can go off by yourself to get them out of here. Demon Dog will go with you.” He brings his hands together into what I can only assume is a sign of some kind.

“Okay, who or what is Demon Dog?” I ask. A shadow out of the corner of my eye quickly answers my inquiry.

From the shadows, a black dog emerges and trots towards me, its fluffy tail wagging. Did Fushiguro summon this guy...? Is that his technique?

“Hi buddy!” I exclaim, crouching down and petting the dog. The dog sits down and pants, gazing at me with its big golden eyes and clearly loving the attention I’m giving it.

“Hey, take this seriously,” Fushiguro snaps.

“Okay, sorry, but it’s not every day you see someone summon a dog out of nowhere,” I remark, “so I hope you’ll forgive me for being a little shocked.” I get back onto my feet, keeping my hand resting on the dog’s head.

“Well, now you’ve seen it, so come on,” he says, “we have a job to do.” His voice echoes through the empty hallway, and that’s when we hear it.

A sob.

Fushiguro pauses and looks at me, probably to confirm that I heard it too. We hear it again. Whoever the voice belongs to is really close...

We enter the nearest classroom and find the source of the voice: a boy, who can’t be older than seven or eight years old, curled up in the corner, clearly terrified.

I look at Fushiguro and nod, signaling that I know this is my job. With that, he turns and leaves. Getting this boy out of here is entirely up to me.

No pressure or anything.

“Hey, I’m here to help you,” I say softly, approaching the boy slowly so as not to scare him further. I crouch down to his height and extend a hand. “I’m gonna get you out of here, don’t you worry.”

“My name’s (Y/N),” I say as he takes my hand and uses it as leverage to stand. “What’s your name?”

“Takashi,” the boy whispers, wiping his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Takashi,” I say, “are you hurt?”

Takashi shakes his head.

“Okay, that’s good,” I affirm, “let’s get you out of here.”

Takashi sniffles. “But what about the monster?” he asks, his voice still frail.

I squat down to eye level with him. “Remember that guy that was with me? His name is Fushiguro, and he’s gonna beat up that monster, so you don’t have to worry.”

I really hope that doesn’t end up being a lie.

Takashi and I exit the classroom and walk through the hallways, and I try my best to remember the location of the exit. If all else fails, the dog probably knows, and so does Takashi, but I don’t want to give him that responsibility. After all, I’m the adult that Takashi is looking to for guidance right now, despite feeling just as young and scared as him.

As we approach a corner, I hear heavy footsteps. I extend an arm to stop Takashi from walking past me, then put a finger to my lips to tell him to be quiet. Slowly, I peek around the corner.

Shit.

A creature—a curse—trudges through the dark hallway like it’s in pain. It’s almost two-dimensional and falling apart at the seams, held together by nothing more than what appears to be a few tacks. It honestly looks like something a kid made in art class wished to come to life. Despite its nonthreatening, dilapidated appearance, one thing is for sure:

If I try to fight this thing, I’ll lose.

“Go get Fushiguro,” I whisper to the dog. It promptly takes off running in the direction from which we came.

“Takashi, go into that classroom,” I tell him, pointing to an open door. “I’m gonna stay out here. Make sure you stay quiet, okay?”

Takashi nods, but he doesn’t turn away. He looks behind me, and his eyes widen in fear.

Uh oh.

My relationship with curses, at least since I was about nine, was always similar to my relationship with spiders. It’s not that I’m unafraid of them, much less fond of them; it’s that I see them so often that I’ve adjusted myself to the sight of them. That being said, as long as they don’t approach me, we won’t have a problem.

Now, we have a problem.

I don’t know if it saw me or if it sensed my cursed energy, but the curse that was patrolling the hallway has appeared right in front of us, absolutely giddy to have found us...

...and it’s preparing to attack.

I can’t use my cursed energy efficiently yet, so there’s nothing I can do to save myself; at least, nothing that comes to mind amidst the overwhelming sense of doom. Where the hell is Fushiguro?!

Well, I can at least try to save Takashi. After all, that is our mission.

I pull him into a protective hug, doing my best to shield him from the impending attack. “It’s gonna be okay,” I affirm, mostly to myself, as I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for the pain—

...

—but it never comes.

...

And then it still doesn’t come.

Tentatively, I open my eyes, surprised to see that the area around us is glowing bright blue. A dome surrounds us, almost like...

A forcefield?

...Did I just accidentally use my cursed technique?!

I hear approaching footsteps. Fushiguro arrives, and with good timing too. Takashi clings to me as Fushiguro—or rather, the animals Fushiguro summoned—obliterate the cursed spirit, reducing it to nothing more than a puddle of sludge.

While inside the forcefield, I’m able to study it. It’s difficult to see through since it refracts light in a manner similar to that of a cut gemstone, or maybe a broken mirror. It’s electric blue, glassy yet nearly opaque, and almost looks like snake skin...

Are my forcefields made of scales...?

Interesting.

I don’t know whether it’s Fushiguro’s appearance or the curse’s death, but a wave of relief washes over me. Along with it, the dome disappears.

“I’ve exorcised all the curses in the area,” he explains, “and I didn’t find any more kids in need of rescuing. Let’s go.”

The terror must have been too much for Takashi to handle, and he’s now unconscious. I pick him up, and Fushiguro and I make our way to the exit, his dog following close behind.

“So, that dome,” Fushiguro begins once the two of us are outside, “was that your cursed technique?”

“I think so,” I say. It sure looked like what I made all those years ago...

“What was it?” He demands. “A shield, or a barrier?”

“Probably a shield,” I reply. “Mr. Gojo said my technique is defensive, so a shield would make sense. It’s interesting that it was made of scales...”

“What are you talking about? It wasn’t made of scales.”

...It wasn’t?

“Wait, then what was it made of?” I ask. Either I’m entirely wrong about what I saw, or Fushiguro is a damn good liar.

“You mean you really couldn’t tell from the inside?”

Fushiguro stops walking, causing me to turn back and look at him.

“It was made of feathers.”

Chapter Text

“Feathers, huh?” Mr. Gojo asks. “Interesting...”

“Yeah, look.” I hold up my hand and conjure a small square shield. Ever since yesterday’s events, I’ve been able to conjure shields and forcefields at will. I’ve done it quite a few times since then. It almost seems like being in that life-or-death situation caused me to unlock a new ability...

“I guess you were right,” I say, “I do have a defensive technique.”

He reaches to the shield and inspects one of the feathers. “We’ll have to train you up fast if you want to join in on the fun of the exchange event!"

Exchange event...?

Mr. Gojo explains that this school here in Tokyo isn’t the only school of Jujutsu; there’s a sister school in Kyoto as well. Once a year, students from both schools get together and engage in both team and individual battles. The event is usually only for second and third years, but our third years are unable to attend. The first years will stand in for them, and that includes me.

“Alright, sounds fun,” I say. “When does training start?”

— — — — —

The exchange event isn’t for another month or so, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start training now. The more experience we have under our belts, the better, especially since we’re going to be battling third years...

For now, I want to focus on what I know best: quick defense. I’ve always been more comfortable on defense than on offense. Even when playing sports like soccer in American phy-ed classes, I was always much more comfortable being the goalie than I was being one of the midfielders. For the time being, I want to get better at a skill I already have instead of trying to develop a bunch of new skills.

That’s how I end up with Nobara throwing nails at me on the track outside.

It’s a cycle: she throws her cursed-energy-infused nails at me—or rather, hits them at me with her hammer—and I conjure shields that are small, but large enough to stop them in their tracks, only a few feathers’ worth. Not only is it a test of reaction time, but also of depth perception and coordination. It’s a low-stakes war of attrition, a battle between cursed tools and pure cursed energy.

And right now, I’m winning.

I don’t stop every nail, of course; some of them pierce the grassy ground behind me, and a few of them even cut me. But, the fact that it hurts like hell when curse-imbued metal breaks my skin just motivates me even more to stop them. (Plus, it’s really cool to see a projectile stop in midair before hitting me.)

“You seem frustrated, is something wrong?” I ask Nobara, partly out of concern and partly to raise tension.

“Why are you asking?” she spits, returning my energy.

“Because...”

I grin, trying to look smug.

“...you’re throwing those nails like you want them to hurt me. I already thanked you for buying me this tracksuit, remember?”

As we don’t have official phy-ed uniforms, Nobara went out and bought tracksuit sets for the three of us. Her hooded jacket is light blue, a vaguely floral pattern adorned across the shoulders, and she wears it with plain black leggings. Mine, a two-piece set, is a dusty (F/C) and slightly velvety, almost like one of those Couture sets from the 2000s.

“You even remembered my favorite color!” I exclaim.

“Ugh, I’m bored,” Nobara groans, walking away and breaking the immersion. In response, I throw up my hands and muster a confused expression.

“I didn’t think you were the type to give up so easily,” remarks Fushiguro, who's sitting on a nearby flight of stairs and watching our battle. Nobara bought him a tracksuit as well, a dark blue set.

“You try then,” Nobara commands, pointing back at me. “Try and break through her shields! Bet you can’t!”

Fushiguro rises and makes his way to where Nobara stood just a moment ago. “Phoning a friend?” I muse. I hope they don’t hear the falter in my voice.

To be truthful, this matchup makes me nervous. Sure, Nobara is a skilled fighter, but Fushiguro... I’ve seen him in action, and he definitely has experience. I have no way of determining how long he’s been training, but with how measured, how precise, his attacks and defenses are, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been training for years.

He shouts something and positions his hands in such a way that, this time, I recognize. It only takes a glance down at his shadow, from which a massive bird emerges and shoots up into the sky, to recognize the criteria for his technique to take effect:

He utilizes shadow puppets.

Cool.

I can’t dwell on it for long. The bird screeches and swoops down, its talons outstretched as if I’m a mouse it’s about to catch and feed to its young. I conjure a curved shield above my head, and—

—its talons break right through, shattering the shield. The pieces rain down on me like glass.

“Shit!” I exclaim, ducking and rolling to avoid the bird’s grasp. It flaps its wings, sending a jolt up my spine similar to a strong static shock. Does this bird conduct electricity...?

“Wow, I can feel the electricity in the air,” I remark, slowly—and hopefully subtly—starting to close the distance. I vaguely remember Mr. Gojo saying that sorcerers who rely on familiars—on Shikigami—tend to be weaker in close range, so maybe I can use that to my advantage...

This has become a battle of cursed energy versus cursed energy. Fushiguro is definitely stronger when it comes to that, but I’m not ready to give up just yet. I’m inexperienced when it comes to fighting, but I have some unconventional tricks up my sleeve that I’d like to try out.

Fushiguro puts up his hands in surrender.

Wait, what?

“I did what you wanted me to do,” he explains, “I broke the shield. I’m done here.”

He hides his hands in the pockets of his jacket and begins to walk back to the stairs. I jog after him. I’m not done fighting yet! Besides, I don’t know Fushiguro very well yet, but he doesn’t seem like the type to give up so quickly either...

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention. He turns, and by that point I’m right in front of him. “I figured out your technique. You use shadow puppets, don’t you?”

I want to try something; I have an idea.

His eyes narrow. “What’s it to you?”

Come on, take your hands out of your pockets...

I smile. “Well, now that we both know each other’s techniques, I’d like to have a little rematch.”

I have one opportunity to try this, and if I mess up...

“Fine.”

He removes his hands from his pockets.

My chance!

I grab both of his hands and separate them. His focus on breaking free of my grasp allows me to hook my leg around his and trip him, and he falls. With him on the ground and his hands still apart, I’m able to pin him by sitting on his legs, then press his still-separated hands into the grass below him. Now, Fushiguro is laying supine, his hands and legs rendered useless by yours truly.

He gasps, although I can't tell whether it's from the circumstance or from the air being knocked out of his lungs. “What the hell is this about?”

“I figured since you use your hands for your technique, all I had to do to inhibit you was keep you from using your hands,” I explain. “Am I wrong?”

He says nothing; he just glares at me.

“So,” I add, “what now, puppet master?”

He struggles, trying to free his hands, but I tighten my grip.

“If I’m being honest, I was nervous to fight you,” I continue. “You have so much more experience than me, and you’re so strong, but something tells me you’ve only ever fought people whose fighting styles are more... conventional."

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hisses.

“It means,” I start, “that the more cool fighting styles and advanced techniques people learn, the more often they forget about resorting to cheap tricks. Tell me, Fushiguro...”

I lean in just a bit.

“...have you ever seen American teenage girls fight?”

“Can’t say I have.”

He tries his best to hide it, but I can tell that this awkward position is finally starting to get to him. Why isn’t he fighting back, though...? He could have easily thrown me off of him a long time ago, so why is he just... allowing me to do this?

For now, I’ll keep having fun with him.

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret—”

I lean in close to his ear and lower my voice to a whisper.

“—American teenage girls will rock your shit.”

Fushiguro hasn’t moved since his struggle a minute ago. He’s definitely strategizing, waiting for just the right moment to fight back, so I have to be prepared for whenever he decides that will be.

“They aren’t afraid to fight dirty."

I move his hands so I can pin both of them with just one of my own, freeing my other hand. It’s risky because my hold isn’t as strong—and now his hands are together, so there’s a chance he could summon something—but I need a free hand so my speech can appeal to his senses.

“They aren’t afraid to rip your hair out—”

I lightly tug his hair.

“—or scratch you with their nails...”

I ever-so-lightly drag my nails down his face and neck, not enough to scratch, but enough for him to feel it. Wow, even I can tell I’m enjoying this a little too much...

“Boys will leave you with bruises, but girls... girls will leave you with scars. You remember that.”

Before he can fight back, I release his hands, stand up, and raise my own hands in surrender. “Alright, now I’m done,” I announce, turning and walking away. Turning my back on Fushiguro after that is a gamble, but the fact that he barely struggled gives me the impression that he won’t try anything anytime soon.

“Alright, do you wanna go into town and maybe get some dinner?” I ask Nobara, who saw all of that and won’t stop gawking at me. “My treat.”

I grab my bag and start heading back in the direction of the dorms.

She runs to catch up to me. “Whoa, hold on, what was all of that?”

“Well, I knew I couldn’t beat him in a battle of pure technique,” I explain, “so I turned the situation into something I could work with. Simple, really."

“You have got to teach me how to do that!”

— — — — —

Nobara, Fushiguro and I go to a sushi restaurant for dinner. I can’t bring myself to fully enjoy it. I, unfortunately, am thinking.

I can’t stop replaying in my head what I did with Fushiguro—no, to Fushiguro—and everything I said to him. I probably made him uncomfortable, and that’s why he didn’t fight back. While we’re out getting dinner, he barely even looks at me, and when he does, it’s only a glance. Then, he looks behind me or off to the side. Even Nobara can tell that something isn't right; I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she stares at Fushiguro, her eyes narrowed, trying to pinpoint the problem. I want me and Fushiguro to be friends, not enemies or strangers with something like that between us.

I have to apologize to him.

Tentatively, I knock on his door. I haven’t rehearsed an apology, so I have no idea how this is going to go.

He opens the door, looking a little surprised to see me.

“Hey,” I say, “can I talk to you? It’ll be really quick, I promise.”

“This is about our spar earlier, isn’t it?” He asks.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I just... the more I thought about it, what I said and what I did, the more I realized that I probably made you uncomfortable, and—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done all of that. If you wanna set boundaries, that’s fine, I understand and I’ll respect them, but I just don’t wanna lose—”

“Hey,” Fushiguro interrupts, “it’s fine. I didn’t look too far into it. Just... promise me one thing.”

“Yeah, of course, what is it?”

His expression shifts into something more... critical.

“Please don’t teach that to Kugisaki.”

I giggle; I can’t help it, I was expecting something a lot more serious.

“Alright, deal.”

Chapter Text

Nobara, Fushiguro and I spent the morning getting acquainted with a couple of the second years, and they just sent the three of us out on an errand run to get some drinks.

“You know, I’ve noticed that the curses here are pretty different from the ones in America,” I say.

“Really?” Nobara pushes a button on one of the vending machines lined up against the wall. The machine beeps and spits out a drink. “I would’ve thought they looked the same all over the world.”

“Me too, but apparently not,” I reply. “Over in the States, they’re a little bigger and bulkier, but they’re pretty simple. Here, they’re more... compact, if that makes sense, and more complex-looking.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

“Right? There are so many more of them here, too. Honestly, I can’t believe that’s the biggest culture shock I’ve had so far!”

When we turn around, two unfamiliar figures stand a few meters away, waiting: a large, muscular boy and a girl in a black dress. Are these the other second years...?

No, their auras are far too sinister for them to be our allies.

“Mai Zenin?” Fushiguro calls out. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Another one?” Nobara asks. “She does kind of look like Maki. Are they sisters?”

“Yes, they’re twins,” Fushiguro says.

Mai interrupts us. “We came along with the principal because we were worried about you, Fushiguro.”

Right, today is the day that the Kyoto school’s principal is coming here to discuss the exchange event with our own principal, Mr. Yaga. I forgot about that.

So, they’re students from Kyoto... Something about her condescending tone tells me they aren’t here because they’re concerned...

“Your classmate died, we heard,” Mai continues. “Was that rough, or did it not affect you much?”

Why is their deceased classmate her first conversation point?!

“What are you trying to say?” Fushiguro demands, taking a step forward. I’m glad I’m not the only one who sensed something off about her intentions...

“Some things are hard to admit out loud, so let me say it for you,” she begins. “Calling him a vessel makes it sound nice, but the truth is he was a half-curse monster. Having that tainted, inhuman being beside you who was brazenly calling himself a Jujutsu sorcerer... it must have been revolting. So, aren’t you feeling better now that he’s dead? Aren’t you far more comfortable working with the substitute for him you flew in from overseas?”

She crosses her arms and looks at me. Directly at me. There’s no mistaking it.

It’s obvious in her tone that she’s trying to rile us up, to get a reaction out of us.

Oh, I’ll give her a reaction.

My motto has always been “never let them know your next move,” so to break the tension, I do something no one is expecting.

I burst out laughing.

Even Nobara and Fushiguro seem surprised at my outburst. I guess they haven’t known me that long, but after the other day, at least Fushiguro should have known I’d do something unpredictable.

“Damn,” I say in between giggles, “you guys didn’t tell me any of that! Is that actually the only reason I’m here?”

“Well, I’m only here for one thing—”

The boy interrupts me, taking a step forward.

“—to see if these guys are fit to take Okkotsu’s place. Fushiguro, was it?”

Fushiguro’s eyes narrow.

“What kind of woman’s your type?!”

...What?!

“If I don’t like your answer,” the boy continues, “I’ll beat you half to death. Oh, and by the way...”

He rips off his shirt and takes a stance.

“...my type of woman is a tall one with a big, gorgeous ass!”

I snicker, covering my mouth to stop myself from bursting out laughing again. What is happening right now?

Fushiguro doesn’t falter. “Why would I want to discuss my taste in women, especially with a guy I just met?”

“Kyoto third year Aoi Todo,” the boy declares. “Now we’re friends, so hurry up and answer my question. If you prefer men, that’s fine too.”

Well, at least this Todo guy is an ally.

“I’m already cutting you too much slack by offering to beat you only half to death,” Todo continues. “Now, answer me, Fushiguro! What kind of woman is your type?”

Fushiguro glances at Nobara to his left, then at me to his right. Come to think of it, I’m actually kind of curious as to what his type is. Come on, Fushiguro, give him a good answer.

What if Todo asks me? What do I say? What should I say?

“I... don’t really have a type,” Fushiguro says finally. “As long as one’s character is unshakable, there’s nothing more I can ask for.”

Oh, wow, that’s... better than I was expecting.

“That’s a good answer,” I exclaim, “that’s a really good answer!”

“I agree,” Nobara adds. “If you had said ‘big boobs,’ I would have had to kill you.”

“Shut up,” Fushiguro mutters.

“Don’t worry, it wouldn’t have offended me,” I muse, nudging him with my elbow.

“You’re not helping,” he grits through his teeth.

The real question, though, is whether or not his answer is sufficient. Mai seems satisfied, but what about Todo...?

“I knew it.”

I look back at Todo, and he’s... crying?

“You really are boring, Fushiguro.”

Todo charges forward, tackling Fushiguro.

What the hell—!

It all happens so fast that I can’t shield Fushiguro. Damn, all of that reaction time training earlier this week was for naught... Honestly, even if I did create one, that absolute tank of a guy could’ve probably broken right through it.

I turn around and take one step before a pair of arms wraps loosely around my neck, stopping me.

“Oh well,” says Mai into my ear, her voice just a little too sultry, “there goes poor Fushiguro.”

I like a confident woman, speaking of types, but she’s just plain cocky.

Mai’s hold on me tightens just slightly and she brushes a hand over my cheek. “You know,” she remarks, “you’d be a lot prettier if you wore less makeup.”

“What a coincidence,” I snap back, “because you’d be a lot prettier if you wore more.”

Mai scoffs and her hand moves down to grip my neck. “Maybe I should teach you—”

She pulls out a silver revolver and points it at my stomach, pressing the end of the barrel into my skin.

“—how to speak to others.”

...What the actual fuck is going on?!

If you had asked me two weeks ago where I thought I’d be now, being held at gunpoint by a girl my age wouldn’t have even made the list. What the hell do I do now? Just stand here until she decides to pull away? Why does she even have a gun in the first place?!

“(Y/N)’s right,” Nobara chimes in from behind us. “I thought you and Maki were identical, but you’re not.”

Daringly, Nobara takes a step towards me and Mai, her expression unwavering.

“Maki’s a hundred times prettier than you are.”

Mai scoffs again, this time at Nobara.

“Trouble sleeping?” Nobara adds. “You’ve got open pores.”

Mai aims her gun at Nobara and tightens her grip on my neck. “You’d better watch who you pick a fight with.”

Someone pushes her gun aside with a staff.

Thank goodness.

“Just what do you think you’re doing to our errand runners, Mai?” The mystery staff-bearer demands.

Mai lets me go. “Ah, you’re such a loser I didn’t even notice you come in, Maki.”

I turn to the staff-bearer. This is Maki? Damn, Nobara was right...

...she is a hundred times prettier than Mai.

“If I’m a loser, then you must be one too,” Maki says. “All you can do is imbue objects with cursed energy, and you’ve got shit for cursed techniques.”

“Better than no cursed energy at all,” Mai snaps back. “My neck gets so sore looking up at others all the time, so I need you, dear sister, to look down on.”

See what I mean? Too cocky for her own good.

“Come on, Mai, we’re leavin’,” Todo says, retrieving his jacket that he had taken off a few minutes ago. When did he get here?

“Where’s Fushiguro?” Nobara demands.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” I add, half-joking.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” Maki affirms, “he’s out with the others.”

Mai glares at us and tucks her gun away. “I’m just getting started with you two."

“No, you’re not,” Todo replies. “Unlike you, I still have important business to attend to here in Tokyo—”

He takes a slip of paper out of his pocket and holds it out for us to observe.

“—my personal handshake with Takada!”

Isn’t Takada that idol who’s really tall...? This guy is a caricature of himself...

He begins to walk away. “Come on, Mai, let’s go.”

“Ugh, you’re so selfish,” Mai remarks, chasing after him. “As for you two...”

She turns back to me and Nobara.

“...you won’t get off this easy at the exchange event.”

“You won’t exactly have a field day yourself!” I exclaim.

“Quit acting like you beat us, damn it!” Nobara adds.

...Okay, I certainly didn’t expect that outcome to our errand run.

Why did they pick a fight with us? Did they just want to show up and assert dominance before the exchange event? How did they know I came from overseas?

...Did I stand out to them?

I know my outburst probably caught their attention, but I didn’t fight or show them my technique at all. I probably would’ve been really helpful in that situation had I been prepared for an attack, but I don’t want that to be the only thing I’m good for. I don’t want defense to be my only specialty.

I need to develop some offense.

— — — — —

“Carrying cursed tools, huh?” Panda, a second year who is a literal panda, asks Fushiguro.

“I’m fine with supplementing close combat with weapons,” Fushiguro explains, “but with my cursed technique, I want to be able to have my hands free.”

Fushiguro and I sit in a clearing with a few of the other second years. After today’s events, it’s nice to have a moment to take in the nice weather and not worry about unfriendly faces or techniques.

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying,” I chime in. “I’ve always found tools to be annoying, not just weapons, but craft supplies and stuff as well. Honestly, if there was a way for me to crochet with just my hands, I’d do it, but having a hook makes it a whole lot easier.”

“So, (Y/N), was it?” asks Maki, who's sitting against a tree. “What's your technique?”

“I make shields made of feathers, like this,” I explain, conjuring up a small one for her to see. “It’s defensive, and I like that, but I want to figure out how to use it in a more offensive way,” I add. “I don’t want to have to carry a weapon, but if it comes down to it, I will.”

She leans forward and adjusts her glasses, inspecting my shield from a distance.

“Can you just make shields?” She asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are shields all you can make?”

“I... think so.”

“There’s nothing else you can do with those feathers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Try it. Make the feathers first.”

Feathers first...?

Can I do that?

“I never thought of that!” I exclaim. “Thanks for the idea, Maki!”

“Yeah, sure,” she replies.

Fushiguro and Maki start up a conversation as I conjure a feather, just one, and examine it in my hand. It’s about the size of a lighter, glowing blue, and fairly soft, but it’s still just a feather.

What can I do with this?

I’ve always just focused on the shape of the shields themselves, not the individual feathers of which they’re constructed. Can I work with this somehow...?

Come to think of it, with the pointed quill and barbs that flare out to create that iconic shape...

...Feathers kind of look like they’re meant to be thrown like darts.

I focus on the quill, and the rounded tip comes to a point. I lightly press it against my fingertip. It feels like being pricked with a sewing needle... I really made it that sharp with that little effort?

This feather is made entirely of my cursed energy, meaning I can manipulate not only its shape, but its speed as well. I aim the feather at a nearby tree...

...And in a split second, it pierces the trunk like a dart, sticking horizontally in the bark just centimeters above Maki’s head. She jumps, startled.

Oops, I aimed that a little low.

“Hey, what the hell was that for?” She demands, glaring at me.

“Sorry, I meant to aim higher,” I explain, “but good news...”

I grin.

“...I’ve got it.”

Chapter Text

“Do you wanna do something fun today, (Y/N)?” Nobara asks. “Like, go shopping?”

Nobara sits backwards on the lounge’s couch, her arms draped over the back. She’s facing me, making conversation as I stand in the kitchen, cleaning my breakfast dishes. Fushiguro sits on a nearby chair, focused on the book in his hands and not paying any mind to our conversation.

Weekend mornings have become a routine. Fushiguro is the first to wake up, then me, then Nobara. I spend the day in the lounge, either crocheting or scrolling on my phone, some reality show or anime playing on the TV in the background. As much as I like this routine, I have something different planned for today.

In only a couple of weeks, the campus, or at least the dorm building, has begun to feel confining. Between developing my technique and catching up on schoolwork, I haven’t had the time or energy to do anything else, not even on weekends. Aside from arriving at the airport, I haven’t even gone into the city yet!

Well, if Nobara suggested shopping, she’d love my plans for the day.

“I was actually planning on going to Harajuku today,” I say. “Do you wanna come with me?”

“Harajuku?” She repeats. “I’d love to come with you, but it’s so hot out. Isn’t that kind of a long walk?”

“I mean, sure...”

I dig through the pockets of my sweater and hold up a set of keys, jingling them slightly. Even Fushiguro glances over at the unfamiliar sound. I grin.

“...but it isn’t a long drive.”

Nobara’s eyes light up, and she springs up from her seat. “I’ll get ready right now!”

She quickly makes her way down the hallway to her dorm. I can’t help but smile; having a friend who can drive is new to her, isn’t it? What’s the minimum age to get your license in Japan anyway?

Nobara pokes her head around the end of the hallway. “What are you gonna wear? I don’t wanna be overdressed.”

“Hey, you’re going shopping with me,” I remark, making my way down the hallway with her. “You should be more worried about being underdressed.”

We make our way back to our respective dorms to get ready. Students here receive a stipend, but it’s really only enough to cover necessities. I’ll have to buy some stuff for her, but that’s fine. After all, I don’t know about her financial situation, but I’m still getting an allowance from my parents.

Oh.

My parents.

Damn, being so suddenly reminded of the life I left behind pulls at my heart strings a bit.

I’ve done my best not to think about that, but sometimes I guess it can’t be helped. They say it takes about two weeks of living away from home to start feeling homesick, and that’s proven to be true for me as well.

I won’t deny it: I miss my old life.

I miss my family, my friends, my social life. I miss the regularity, the routine. To be honest, lately I’ve wanted nothing more than to go to a familiar place, hear a familiar voice, sleep in a familiar bed...

Well, maybe going shopping will relieve some of that. Shopping is familiar, at least.

When I emerge from my dorm and enter the lounge, Nobara is already sitting on the couch waiting for me. When she sees me, she grins.

“You were right,” she exclaims, “I should have dressed up more!”

As we’re going to a district centered around fashion, I decided to lean into that with something vaguely reminiscent of an early 2000s music video. The base of the outfit includes a cropped T-shirt showcasing my favorite band and navy blue pants that flare out at the knee, similar to the pants of my uniform. I added a matching octagonal hat, silver hoops and bangles, a white belt, and white shoes.
(A/N: an actual outfit I own and love)

Nobara went for something more modern. She's wearing an oversized teal T-shirt under white overall shorts, as well as comfortable walking shoes. She pulled her hair up into space buns as well.

“No, don’t worry about it,” I say, “your fit is great!”

“So’s yours,” she replies, standing up. “I didn’t know you were fashionable like that.”

“Oh, thanks. Well, if you’re ready, we can go,” I add. I start to open the door, but turn around.

“You need anything while we’re out, Fushiguro?”

Fushiguro doesn’t look up from his book. “No, I’m fine,” he calls out.

“Okay, just text us if you think of anything.”

“Alright.”

Nobara shuts the door behind us. I take out my keys again, swinging them around my finger as we begin to walk. “Alright, let’s go find my old girl,” I mutter.

“Your old girl?” Nobara repeats.

“Yeah, my car,” I explain. “Mr. Gojo said they parked her in a little garage. I hope she starts, she likes to act up whenever she isn’t driven for more than a few days.”

Nobara giggles.

“What?”

“I just think it’s kinda funny that you call your car ‘she.’”

“Yeah, I guess it’s an American thing,” I explain, “naming your car, I mean. They’re not always girls, either. You know, I had an old friend who named her car Charlie, and another friend who said they’d name theirs Pepper once they got one.”

“Sounds like you had some great friends. Do you miss them?”

“Oh, yeah, every day, but it's chill.”

As we reach the outskirts of campus, a small building comes into view. We enter, and there’s my car, parked neatly in the garage. Whoever parked it backed in, and I’ll be honest, they did a better job than I would have.

Nobara gets into the passenger seat as I try the ignition. My car springs to life, the headlights turning on and the engine whirring. Thank goodness, I really didn’t want to have to walk all the way to Harajuku and back in this weather.

“I’m in charge of the music, right?” Nobara asks, taking out her phone like she already knows the answer.

“Only if you put your seatbelt on,” I remark. “I’m not going anywhere ‘til you do.”

When Nobara obliges and chooses some music, I pull out of the garage and drive the short distance to Harajuku. She turns the volume up and rolls down her window.

This is going to be fun.

— — — — —

One of our first stops is a contemporary clothing store featuring simple, trendy pieces. We pulled off the racks everything that caught our eye, and Nobara allowed me to try on my haul first. She sits in a comfortable-looking armchair while she waits for me to step out in each garment and strut through the fitting room hallway as if it’s a catwalk.

Once again, I pull back the fitting room curtain, this time stepping out in a form-fitting red dress.

Nobara's jaw drops when she sees me. “That’s so cute, you have to get it!”

“It is really cute,” I agree, toying with the shiny fabric, “but where am I gonna wear it?”

“Does it matter?” She demands. “You never know, there could be a day where you’re looking for something to wear and you’ll realize that dress would’ve been perfect, but you didn’t buy it, and it’ll haunt you forever!”

“This is, like, something you’d wear to the club.”

“Yeah, if you wanna make everyone fall head-over-heels in love with you! Besides...”

She leans up and places one hand near her mouth, as if telling me a secret. I lean in, and she lowers her voice.

“...I doubt any of your other clothes make your boobs look that good.”

I make a shocked expression, and a sound escapes me, something between a scoff and a chuckle. "Hey!"

She raises her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just being honest."

I turn back to the mirror to give myself another once-over. I didn’t want to mention it, but she’s right...

“Damn!” Nobara calls out from behind me. “What isn’t this dress doing for you?”

I turn back to her, and she has her phone out, snapping several pictures from various angles.

I roll my eyes and smile.

“Fine, I’ll buy it, but only so you stop talking!”

— — — — —

“Hey, look, they have a Nouboutin store here,” Nobara says. My eyes follow her hand gesture up to the nearby outlet.

I gasp.

Nouboutin?!

I grab her free hand and drag her to the doors. “We have to go in there!”

We don’t have a Nouboutin outlet back home, so I’ve never experienced one and don’t know what to expect. We walk in and are immediately drowned in crimson.

The store is draped floor-to-ceiling in bright red, casting a glow of the same color on everything inside. Dozens—no, hundreds—of shoes line the walls and displays. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more. I swear, I could look at pretty red-bottomed shoes all day...

“I’ve always wanted Miss Zs,” I say, picking up one of the black pumps on display, “but I don’t think I could walk in them. I know they’re a little shorter than So Kates, but they’re still pretty tall.”

I turn the shoe, showing her the slender heel.

“That’s, what, ten centimeters?”

“You know a lot about shoes,” she remarks.

“Yeah, I’m pretty into fashion,” I admit. “My dream is to be a fashion designer, but...”

I look up at the ceiling. Only after I signed up for this did I realize just how dangerous it is. Had I known, I would have said no to Mr. Gojo right away. But then, I wouldn’t have met Nobara...

“...But it’s hard to make a career out of that, so I might have to keep it a hobby.”

“Well, forget about that! If you want the shoes, you should buy them!” Nobara exclaims. “Black heels are a good thing to have in your wardrobe.”

Well, she’s right about that. I look at the price tag, and I can’t hide my shocked reaction.

“Holy shit, these are, like, 150,000 yen!”

“Which we have,” she muses, holding up a shiny black card that reflects the red lighting. “Come on, (Y/N), you just said that you’ve always wanted them!”

She waves the card in front of my face, and I catch a glimpse of the name on the card: Satoru Gojo.

“Is that... Mr. Gojo’s card?” I ask, even though it’s obvious.

“Yeah,” Nobara confirms, “I took it from him when you were getting ready. He knows I took it, and he lets us buy shit with it all the time.”

“I am not buying Nouboutins with someone else’s money,” I say, setting the shoe back down on its display, “not even Mr. Gojo’s. I’ll find cheaper ones at Sarget or something.”

“(Y/N), he’s loaded. This won't even make a dent in his bank account. I swear he’s fine with it.”

“I don’t care how ‘fine with it’ he is. It still feels wrong.”

“Fine then, if you don’t buy them...”

She scoops up a shoe box and marches over to the register.

“...I’ll just have to buy them for you as a gift.”

“Well, hey now,” I start, but I can’t come up with a counterargument. It’s rude to reject a gift, after all...

— — — — —

“How’s yours?” Nobara asks through half a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Awful,” I reply. “Yours any better?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t know what we were expecting from that place.”

We stop at WcDonald’s, our final stop of the day, before returning to campus. We eat our late-lunch-early-dinner in Nobara’s dorm room, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Our countless shopping bags sit piled up in a corner near her door.

“Hey, can you send me those pictures you took of me?” I ask. “You know, in the red dress?”

“Of course!” She exclaims, whipping out her phone.

She pauses to look at them again, and a mischievous grin appears on her face.

“I’m sending them to Fushiguro, too.”

“What?” I demand. “Why?”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, but I don’t think he wants them. Why would he care?”

“You can’t tell?” Nobara’s expression morphs into something somehow both sympathetic and condescending, and she places a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, you sweet, innocent child...”

“So you’re not gonna tell me?” I take a sip of my Mr. Pepper. I hate it when people do that, when they poke fun at you for not knowing something instead of just answering your question.

My phone buzzes, and I look at the pictures she sent me. Damn, maybe Nobara’s just a really good photographer, but I forgot just how flattering the dress is...

“Can you actually not tell that Fushiguro likes you?”

I nearly spit out my drink.

“What?” I demand. “Where is this coming from?!”

“From after our training last week!” She exclaims. “He’s a horrible liar, you know, he gets way too defensive. He was definitely lying when he said he didn’t have a crush on you.”

“That guy—”

I point in the general direction of Fushiguro’s room.

“—likes me?! Mister Nonchalant? Mister ‘hey, take this seriously?’ Are we talking about the same Fushiguro?”

“Hey, he did say he likes a woman with an unshakable character or whatever,” Nobara offers. “When that Todo guy asked him about his type, I’m surprised he didn’t just describe you!”

“Okay, but he definitely would have said ‘big boobs’ if we weren’t there, right?” I ask, recalling our interaction with the Kyoto students.

“Oh, for sure!” She agrees. “He can act pretentious and high-and-mighty all he wants, but at the end of the day, he’s still just a teenage boy. He’s probably in his room right now looking at those pictures...”

She leans in and lowers her voice.

“...and only one hand’s on his phone.”

“Oh my god, Nobara!” I hide my face in my hands, leaning back and laying faceup on her bed. “You’re worse than me...”

“You don’t hate it,” she teases.

My sigh turns into a laugh. “I don’t.”

And in that moment, I finally noticed it.

This place has finally started to feel like home.

Chapter Text

The sun sets really early here, considering it’s the middle of summer.

Back home, the sun would be setting just before 9 PM this time of year. Here, though, it’s dark before 7:30. I suppose that makes sense, since Tokyo is on a lower parallel than where I used to live...

I launch another feather at the tree, and it pierces the trunk a few centimeters higher than the one I threw previously. Unfortunately, my consistency doesn't seem to be improving.

I sit on the stairs in a clearing, the very same one where Maki gave me this idea. “Look To Windward” plays quietly through my wireless earbuds, keeping it hidden from the outside world.
(A/N: the second half of this song makes things in this fic make a lot more sense, go listen to it)

According to Mr. Gojo, using hand gestures, saying incantations, or even just calling out your technique’s name can strengthen it. So, I assigned it a name: Live by the Feather.

That’s not what I’m out here at dusk to practice, though. Instead, I’m focusing on what will become the primary extension of my technique, Die by the Sword.

I pick up my notebook. The most recent pages are covered in sketches, each one more detailed and annotated than the last.

I can scale my feathers, at maximum, down to the size of a sewing needle or up to the size of a katana. Their default size is good for Live by the Feather, but changing the size and shape allows for a whole arsenal of cursed weapons. Because Die by the Sword is an extension, it uses up a lot more cursed energy, but apparently I have a whole lot of that stored up, so it’s fine. Besides, it hasn’t caused me any problems yet.

Sharpening the quill proves to be effective for target practice, but it’s not very useful in combat. Besides, it’s a little too similar to Nobara’s hammer-and-nails technique. Instead, I opt for something else: transforming the body of the feather into a blade.

Sharpening the vane, as well as lengthening the quill, allows me to wield a feather in a manner similar to that of a knife.

Maybe I can throw it like one too.

Setting down my notebook and standing up, I take aim at the tree and throw the feather. I’ve never thrown knives before, so I don’t know what I’m doing; it bounces off of the tree and lands on the ground.

I throw another, then another. It becomes a cycle: conjure, throw, disappear, conjure again. How do people do this successfully, even in movies?

Finally, the seventh or eighth feather I throw lands in the trunk at an odd angle, almost like a lever waiting to be pulled. Alright, I can work with that.

“I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

I barely heard him through the noise cancellation. I turn, and Fushiguro stands by the stairs, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, hey,” I say, taking out an earbud, “I’m just trying to work on offense. I’m trying to do that every time—”

I point to the feather-knife still stuck in the tree.

“—but I think I’ll have to practice a lot more before I get to that point. So, what are you doing out here?”

“Going on a walk,” he explains. “Why aren’t you practicing in the gym? It’s way closer to the dorms, you know.”

“I wanted to be outside, in the fresh air,” I reply.

“Didn’t you just go to Harajuku with Kugisaki?”

“Yeah, but that air isn’t fresh!”

He sighs. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, you can stay if you want,” I offer. “I was about to take a break, we can chat. Might be nice to have someone to talk through my ideas with, you know?”

Won’t he want to stay, considering what Nobara said about him the other day...?

“Alright, I’ll keep you company,” he says, taking a seat on the stairs. I sit down next to him.

I glance over at Fushiguro as he looks down at my notebook. It lays open between us, my sketches on full display.

He gestures at it. “What’s this?”

“Just some drawings.”

I pick up my notebook and scoot closer to him. It'd be a miracle if he could read the annotations scrawled around the sketches.

“I’m trying to figure out what kind of weapons I can make.”

I point to a drawing in the corner of the page, the first and lightest sketch of the bunch.

“This one’s kind of like a dart. I think you saw it already.”

I point to another drawing closer to the center of the page.

“A little knife...”

I point to a sketch on the opposite page.

“...another knife, serrated for more damage, you know...”

I turn the page to a much larger sketch.

“...a sword...”

I trail off and sigh, shutting my notebook and setting it down.

“They’re all still just ideas,” I explain, “but I think having an inventory will be good for me. I hate wielding weapons, but I think being able to just conjure and disappear them will make it a little more bearable.”

“Not too bad,” he offers.

“Thanks,” I reply. “That’s probably the closest thing to a compliment I’m getting from you, huh?”

Fushiguro doesn’t respond. We sit in silence for another few seconds.

“I saw that you had earbuds in,” he starts. “I’m curious, what were you listening to?”

“Oh, well, I don’t think you know them, but hey, you might like it. You wanna listen?” I hold out my other earbud, offering it to him. Wordlessly, Fushiguro takes the earbud, his fingers brushing against mine—I can’t help but notice that—and I resume the music.

I look at him, trying to gauge his reaction. This band, while technically considered metal, has always been a toss-up for people who listen to “real” metal...

He nods to the beat, just barely. “I like it.”

“That’s good,” I affirm, “because a lot of people don’t. They think that just because their songs aren’t super heavy all the time that they’re not ‘real metal,’ even though they never claimed to be. You can choose another song if you want,” I offer, handing him my phone. “This one’s almost over anyway.”

He selects “Emergence” and a mellow flute fades in.

“This was the first single they released from this album,” I explain as he hands me back my phone. “On the same day they released it, they also announced the name of the album and a North American tour, but I didn’t get tickets.”

“Oh, why not?” He asks.

“Well, for one, they sold out like that—”

I snap my fingers.

“—but also, they were damn expensive! Like, I’m not paying 700 dollars for a seat where I can’t even see the singer. Although, in hindsight, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t buy tickets, because I would’ve had to fly all the way back home just to see them anyway.”

Fushiguro is silent; he’s probably listening to the song. I pause my rant, doing the same, as well as subconsciously swaying to the beat. I can feel his gaze on me...

“So, the singer,” Fushiguro starts, “what’s his name?”

“Well...”

I show him a photo of the lead singer in costume as I explain that the band is anonymous, masked, and known by aliases. Of course, people disrespect that, but I’m not one of those people.

“As far as I’m concerned,” I explain, “his name is Vessel, and he looks like that.”

“Good to know.”

We listen in silence again as a saxophone—yes, a saxophone—plays quietly. The song fades out and the music pauses. Now, it’s just me and Fushiguro, sitting on this... really random flight of stairs, now that I’m thinking about it, out in the remnants of the summer heat.

“You know,” I say, breaking the silence, “Mr. Gojo said that sorcerers are able to amplify their cursed energy by channeling feelings like regret, and... I have a lot of those. So, you’d think I could do more than this.”

I gesture to the long-forgotten tree I had been using as target practice earlier.

“I feel like I’ve been putting off my progress, just... procrastinating and disguising it as ‘planning,’ you know? I feel like I’m still really far behind.”

I lean back slightly, propping myself up on my elbows.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Fushiguro says. “Your technique is...”

He pauses, as if looking for the right words.

“Your technique is yours alone,” he decides. “Only you can do that. Comparing it to others’ techniques is useless and won’t get you very far.”

I sigh. “I guess you’re right.”

“You started late, so of course your technique isn’t going to be as developed,” he continues. “But, even so...”

He looks up, and I do the same. Behind the leaves of the trees, the stars have begun an emergence of their own, twinkling against the navy blue of the dusk-painted sky. They look a little different on this side of the Pacific...

“...You’ve made lots of progress, and you’ve made it quick,” he says. “Quicker than I thought you would, anyway.”

“Hey! Was that last part really necessary?”

“Yes, I think it was. You’re moving really fast, almost too fast. At this rate, you might even surpass me.”

“Oh, shut up. Are you just saying this because I said that you wouldn’t give me a compliment?”

Does he really think that? Has he been paying that much attention this whole time...?

“Actually... do you really think so?” I ask, sitting up. “That I could be as strong as you one day? I mean, you’re amazing, and you haven’t been here much longer than me.”

“Yes, I do think so,” he affirms. “You’re being taught by Gojo, and he’s the strongest, you know. I won’t let you surpass me, though.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

I don’t know Fushiguro very well yet, but he doesn’t seem like the type to give all of this encouragement to just anyone. If Nobara’s speculations are right, then he’s probably only doing this to get closer to me. I’m fine with that, though; after all, I do want to become better friends with him. And hey, if something more develops, then...

“You should get back to practicing.”

Fushiguro stands up, bringing me back to reality. He takes out the earbud I loaned him and sets it on the step.

“Yeah, probably,” I agree. “I’ll be sure to keep going until I surpass you. Have a nice walk.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says. I watch as he walks away.

My first impression of Fushiguro—at least, the first impression he offered—was that he takes everything a little too seriously and doesn’t focus on keeping up appearances. I understand him a little better now. It isn’t that he’s overly serious, it’s that he stays true to his priorities and can keep a relatively level head even in the most stressful of situations. It’s not that he’s distant and antisocial, he’s just hesitant to get close to anyone out of fear of losing them, which in this line of work, I completely understand.

After all, he’s already lost a classmate.

Come to think of it, I never met their deceased classmate. Judging by how everyone talks about him, it seems like he passed not long before I arrived here. Was Mai right?

Am I only here to replace him?

Am I really nothing more than a substitute?

I can’t help but wonder what his technique was. Mai called him a ‘vessel’—and ever since then, I couldn’t help but picture him as a masked guy in a cloak and black body paint—but what did she actually mean by that? Was he harboring a powerful cursed spirit of some sort as a familiar? I’ve heard people talk about that before, so it’s plausible...

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He’s not here, and I am. I can at least try to do what I set out to do:

To become stronger than I am right now, and maybe surpass Fushiguro in the process.

Chapter Text

“Do you have any advice for me?” I ask Maki as we stop in front of Dr. Ieiri’s office. “You know, about my technique or fighting style?”

We’re sparring with the second years again today. They have much more experience than we do, but it does us well to practice with them. After all, practicing against people who are weaker than you doesn’t do any good.

I finally landed a blow on Maki, of all people, but I got a little carried away and she got injured. (Oops. Sorry, Maki.) As an extra apology, I walked with her to Dr. Ieiri’s office.

Maki sighs quietly, looking up at the sky, or maybe at the trees. I can tell she isn’t prepared for that question, but I’ll value whatever she comes up with. If there’s anyone here who knows the secrets of fighting, it’s definitely her.

“Keep trying new things,” she decides. “You never know what could end up being your most volatile weapon.”

“Thank you,” I say, “that’s good advice. I’ll remember that.”

“You don’t have to wait for me,” she adds. “Go back and meet up with the others. They should still be sparring on the track.”

“Okay, I will. See you later?”

“Yeah, see you.”

With that, she slides the door shut behind her.

I begin to walk back the way we came, this time taking in the scenery. The lush trees provide some much-needed shade in this sweltering summer weather.

Keep trying new things...

How can I work with that?

There’s still a lot I haven’t tried. I started out with basic defense, and considering that defense is the basis of my entire technique, it seems to be what I’m most comfortable with. I was able to develop some apparently pretty damn good offense in a short amount of time. Still, I haven’t yet wielded any real cursed tools, summoned any Shikigami, or even lowered any sort of barrier.

Wait a minute...

No, I can’t do that.

Can I...?

Well, I know who does know the answer.

I quickly turn around and make my way back to the main school building—as quickly as I can in the heat, anyway. Man, the summer weather here is rough compared to back home...

It’s not much better indoors. Damn these old, traditional buildings with no air conditioning. Seriously, whoever decided to put central air conditioning in the dorms needs a pay raise, or maybe some special treatment... At the very least, they should be in charge of renovating these buildings.

I knock twice, then slowly slide open the door to Mr. Gojo’s office. As I expected of him, he isn’t working; he’s on a casual call with someone, standing in front of the window and looking outside. I guess he didn’t hear me come in.

He ends the call.

“Mr. Gojo?”

He turns and grins.

“(Y/N)!” He exclaims, holding out his arms in a welcoming gesture. “I didn’t expect to see you! You rarely stop by to pay me a visit.”

I shut the door. I know trying to preface the question won’t do any good, so I just spit it out.

“Can I summon Shikigami?”

Mr. Gojo pauses for a second, an expression on his face I can’t quite place. Maybe it would be easier if I could actually see his eyes.

Then, he places a hand on his chest and laughs.

“You scared me, (Y/N),” he muses. “I thought someone died or something!”

I don’t laugh; instead, I look at him expectantly.

He gets the hint. “Of course you can summon Shikigami,” he confirms, “even non-sorcerers can do that. Tell me, what prompted this all of a sudden? Sparring with Megumi?”

“No, no, it’s actually been a while since I fought him,” I say, recalling my last spar—does that even count as a spar?—with Fushiguro. “Someone I look up to told me to keep trying new things. So, when you say ‘simple’ Shikigami...”

I sit down in a nearby chair.

“...how simple are we talking?”

— — — — —

It takes a while to summon him, and even longer to subjugate him.

There’s a lot more of a process to summoning Shikigami than I originally thought. I suppose when you’re not primarily a Shikigami user, that’s to be expected.

My first step is figuring out what benefit having a familiar will serve. I seem to be pretty well off by myself, but I’m about as far from an expert as one can get. My biggest restraint, at least for now, is that I can’t attack and defend at the same time. My Shikigami will have to assist with at least one of the two. To go with my technique, ideally I want to summon something with feathers.

It takes three consecutive nights of meditation, focus, and experimenting with hand gestures out in that same clearing. My familiar finally manifests in front of me, poised and cautious:

A black flamingo.

Having never been summoned by me before, he’s wary of me. That’s fine, though; I’m incredibly patient.

Looks like I got assigned one of the more timid servant gods.

A minute or two of holding out my hand and looking away from him, similar to the scene in How to Train Your Useless Reptile, proves to yield good results. Eventually, he nudges my hand with his white beak, silently telling me that he is accustomed to my presence.

Now, to train him.

I assign him a name I know both of us will remember: Jericho. I begin calling him with the same gesture every time, a sign derived from the ASL sign for “bird.” I trust that eventually, he will learn to associate his name with the act of being summoned, and just calling his name will be enough to summon him. Hey, who would’ve known the college-level psychology class I took back in American high school would come in handy over here?

As I am now using my technique more for attacking than defending, Jericho’s job will be to assist in defense. He can’t create shields or weapons like I can, but still, his feathers can be useful in combat.

Whenever I summon Jericho, he will offer his feathers to me as armor, covering my neck, torso, forearms, and knees. It’s not very strong, and it’s far from permanent, but it allows me to focus all of my energy on offense for a short period of time. The only downside is that while his feathers defend my body instead of his own, Jericho himself is a lot weaker and more susceptible to attacks.

Of course, I don’t take him for granted; Jericho will not be released until I thank him for his offering and he takes back his feathers.

Is he ready for real combat?

Am I?

Only one way to find out, I suppose.

— — — — —

I still have yet to exorcise a cursed spirit.

That’s what separates me from my peers. I’ve only been sent out on one mission so far, and in terms of cursed technique, all I did was accidentally defend myself.

Now, I have a chance to try again. Nobara, Fushiguro and I get sent on another simple mission to everyone’s favorite place: the cemetery.

Cursed spirits tend to manifest in places where people unconsciously deposit their negative energy, as well as places that people associate with negative energy, like hospitals, schools, and cemeteries. People often believe that cemeteries are haunted, and they are, but not by ghosts. That uneasiness you feel whenever you walk into a cemetery is more often than not the work of a cursed spirit or two.

Or, in this case, nearly a dozen.

This particular cemetery, more secluded than most, has gone unchecked for just a little too long, and the curses have multiplied like crazy. Our job is to bring that number down to zero. Luckily, all of the perceivable curses are low-level; and generally, the weaker curses are, the more they group together. Besides, they wouldn’t send us on a mission we couldn’t handle. This will be relatively easy.

Well, hopefully.

Mr. Ijichi, one of the non-sorcerer assistants at our school, drops us off. He lowers a veil, a thin barrier to keep civilians from seeing what goes down inside, over the cemetery. That means it’s our time to shine.

Fushiguro is okay with fighting alone, so Nobara and I stick together. We’re a bad matchup as opponents, but when we work together, we’re more powerful than ever. After all, two techniques are better than one, or however the saying goes.

I focus on defense, making shield after shield to block the creatures’ weak attacks. Under my protection, Nobara hammers her nails into the creatures, then detonates their cursed energy. I can’t focus on it in the moment, but we probably look so badass fighting together!

“Too easy,” Nobara sighs, resting her hammer on her shoulder after all of the curses are gone. “We deserve a little treat after that, don’tcha think, (Y/N)?”

We realize just half a second too late.

Another, larger presence emerges, its shadow—or maybe that’s just its cursed energy—looming over us. It’s vocalizing, as if trying to communicate in a language that’s almost human enough to be understood. Before either of us can react, it outstretches one of its large hands and grabs Nobara, who cries out as it picks her up and pins her arms to her sides. The curse seems to be furious with her, in the same way a mother bear would be angry if something happened to her cubs...

Come to think of it, this curse probably is the other curses’ mother.

The curse almost looks like the ghost of a late Georgian era woman, if she was turned into a grotesque amalgamation. Floral, leafy patterns cover its body, but instead of appliques on a gown, it manifests as texture, its skin the ugly greenish-blue of a healing bruise. Its head takes on a strange shape, billowing like storm clouds, like it’s wearing a hat, heavily embellished so as to boast wealth. Despite its intimidating aura and obvious fury, it seems poised, proper, delicate, as if readying for a ballroom dance.

I almost don’t want to kill it.

This one is at least a grade higher than the several curses we just so easily exorcised. Shit, I’ve never done this before, much less by myself; what am I supposed to do? Last time this happened, Fushiguro showed up to help me—to save me—but now, I’m alone. I’ve only ever sparred with people, I’ve never fought something like this! Sure, I’ve grown accustomed to seeing curses out and about, but it’s different when they’re actually trying to attack me.

It’s like trying to kill a spider that’s crawling straight at you: you can do it, but you’re still panicking.

Nobara has been rendered immobile, and she’s probably almost out of nails too. Fushiguro is god-knows-where and probably preoccupied. Exorcising this curse is entirely up to me.

No pressure, though.

“(Y/N)! Snap out of it and do something already!” Nobara yells, kicking her legs. “I hate being a damsel in distress!”

Wait... Why is my mind racing? Why am I so on edge?

I just spent several days developing the perfect solution.

“Jericho...”

I call out his name and do that hand gesture I practiced so many times. Jericho emerges from nothing, poised beside me.

“...please lend me your strength!”

Swiftly and smoothly, his feathers morph into armor, just as I—just as we—practiced. Now, I can focus and zero in on offense.

First, I free Nobara. With an enlarged, sharpened feather, I slice the curse’s arm. Its hand falls to the ground, slender fingers uncurling and releasing her. With its other hand, it swings at me, slicing the armor over my chest.

Good thing I called Jericho.

Its wound bubbles and a new hand begins to take shape. Shit, I forgot some of them can do that!

No matter. It can’t regenerate fast enough to fix what I’m about to do.

I slice its other hand so it can’t attack. I pierce two large quills into its main body, creating a cross of sorts. I utter the words as naturally as taking a breath:

“Die by the Sword.”

Inspired by Nobara’s Hairpin, the feathers detonate on two planes, splitting the curse into four slices. Four beautiful, perfectly even slices.

With a strangled, almost human-like yell, all four pieces of the curse burst at the same time, melting into nothing more than a puddle of purple sludge.

A few drops of the fluid splatter onto my face. I wipe it off with my sleeve. It smells like a decaying corpse.

Gross.

Along with that nauseating experience, though, comes a wave of relief.

I did it.

“Damn, (Y/N), that was badass!” Nobara exclaims.

“Yeah,” I say, still a bit shaken, “that was my first time. I can’t believe I actually did it.”

“That thing was probably a grade two, and you took it down by yourself in one blow!” Nobara continues. “And that was your first time exorcising a curse? You definitely deserve a little treat after that.”

A soft squawk sounds from behind me. I turn, and Jericho looks at me with such an expectant expression I didn’t think it was possible for flamingoes to make. I sigh, approaching him.

“Thank you, Jericho...”

I kneel down and rest my forehead against his beak in a show of gratitude. His feathers return to his body, leaving me feeling just a touch lighter.

“...Now, please rest.”

With that, Jericho disappears as swiftly as he arrived, returning to whatever realm from which he came. Quickly approaching, almost as if to take Jericho’s place, is Fushiguro, his black dog following close behind.

“That was the last one,” he informs us.

His dog approaches me—I haven’t seen him since my last mission!—and as I pet him, he begins to sniff me, his tail wagging. “Aw, do you smell Jericho on me?” I ask, scratching behind his ears.

“Jericho?” Fushiguro echoes quietly.

“Yeah...”

I stand and face him.

“...my Shikigami.”

Instead of narrowing like I expect, his eyes widen.

“You can summon Shikigami?” He asks, more so in wonder than in disbelief.

“Yep,” I confirm, “just subjugated him the other day. I only have the one, but that’s better than zero, isn’t it?”

His expression shifts into something... soft. Not a smile, just soft. “You are moving quick.”

“Well, I want to surpass you, remember?” I remark. “Gotta move quick if I wanna make that happen, right?”

“You’re insane,” he sighs.

I can only chuckle in response; he’s probably right, after all.

“Okay, pack it up, lovebirds!” Nobara exclaims, pushing us in the general direction of Mr. Ijichi’s parked car.

“Shut up, Kugisaki,” Fushiguro mutters, tugging on his uniform collar and turning away.

“Yeah, you’re looking way too far into this,” I add.

“Denial is the first stage,” she teases in a singsong voice.

Both Fushiguro and I smack the back of Nobara’s head in sync. She laughs in response.

“Well,” Nobara begins, “I’m hungry. Let’s go get a treat for dinner.”

Chapter Text

Nobara trudges into the lounge, still in her pajamas and half-asleep. “Something smells good,” she mumbles.

Perfect timing.

I exit the kitchen carrying a plate. On it is the breakfast I made just for her: a generous stack of chocolate chip pancakes, syrup poured on top. I present it to her and grin.

“Happy birthday!”

Today, as made clear by her for the past couple of weeks, is Nobara’s birthday. I got up 30 minutes earlier than normal to make breakfast—for everyone, but especially for her—and I have a few other things planned as well.

By the time we leave for school, Nobara has done her birthday makeup—some pastel eyeshadow and light blush—and curled her hair. I give her some embellishments of my own: a few balloons tied to her bag, a tiara, and a sash that says “birthday girl.” For anyone else, it would be embarrassing and over-the-top, but she loves it. I can tell she carries her head a little higher while wearing that tiara. (That, or maybe she just doesn’t want it to fall off. It is pretty cheap, after all.)

We’re supposed to be sparring in preparation for the exchange event, but I insist Nobara sit out and take a break for today. Whenever someone questioned it, I would say, “you wouldn’t make the birthday girl do all that work, would you?”

It was nearly impossible to sneak out and go shopping in secret living with someone like Nobara, but somehow I managed it last week. After school ends, all six of the first and second years gather in the lounge and give her a present from “all of us.” (It’s really only from me; I’m the only one who went shopping, remember?) It includes her favorite candy, a couple of face masks, and a pair of earrings. Needless to say, she loves it.

We were going to go out for dinner as well, but apparently Fushiguro has it covered. Damn, I didn’t know he could cook...

All six of the first and second years sit at the table, waiting. Fushiguro takes the lid off of a cute little pot, revealing some sort of stew, complete with mushrooms, carrots, meatballs, and more. After it’s done, we dig in.

“These meatballs are so good,” I say.

“Yeah, they are,” Maki agrees. “Who made them?”

“Oh, I did,” Fushiguro replies. “They’re easy to make.”

“So, you like to cook for yourself?” Nobara asks. “Not too surprising, actually.”

“Well... Itadori taught me how to make them,” Fushiguro admits.

“That’s... sad,” Nobara says. “Itadori’s legacy is... a meatball.”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Maki interjects.

“Who’s Itadori?” I ask.

“Our classmate,” Nobara confirms. “I think you two would’ve gotten along.” She stares down at her stew, as if reminiscing.

Oh, I didn't mean to make the atmosphere so... bleak.

“Well, let’s not bring the mood down on your birthday,” I exclaim, “let’s keep enjoying this stew! It’s really good. You’re a great cook, Fushiguro!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles. He turns away, but not before a slight blush appears on his cheeks. He doesn’t receive compliments often, does he?

A minute or two later, the door bursts open. Mr. Gojo enters, looking more casual than normal in a pastel blue button-down and rectangular sunglasses.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he exclaims, brandishing a rolled-up poster, “I have a very important announcement!”

— — — — —

Right as the bell rings and class ends, Nobara, Fushiguro and I stand up and gather our belongings.

“You guys go on ahead,” I tell them. “I have to talk to Mr. Gojo about something.”

“About what?” Nobara asks.

“Just some stuff about my technique,” I lie. “Boring stuff, you know? You probably don’t wanna hear it.”

The door shuts, and I rest my elbows on Mr. Gojo’s desk.

“I have an idea.”

“Oh? What kind of idea?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I want to bring a little piece of American high school over here,” I explain. “Over in America, usually in April or May, high schools have this event where people get dressed up all fancy and just, like, dance and take pictures.”

Mr. Gojo snaps and raises a finger. “You’re talking about prom, right?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “We can hold it in the main gym or maybe even outside. I wanna give everyone enough time to buy nice clothes, though, and we’ll have to decide on a theme, and food, and decorations...”

“Don’t worry about the planning,” Mr. Gojo assures. “You trust me, don’t you?”

— — — — —

“Our beloved (Y/N) here,” Mr. Gojo announces, gesturing to me, “has helped plan an event that will steal your hearts—”

He unrolls the poster.

“—the first annual Tokyo Jujutsu High School Prom!”

Everyone else looks a little lost, but I’m grinning like a maniac. “Tell us more, Mr. Gojo.”

Mr. Gojo takes on the persona of an advertiser. “A slice of life from overseas,” he continues, “one night a year, students don their most dashing formal attire and dance the night away! It’ll be held on Saturday two weeks after the exchange event, and the theme...”

Mr. Gojo glances at me over the lenses of his sunglasses.

“...is Red Carpet.”

I give him a nod of approval. He definitely just looked up “prom themes” and picked the top result, but at least he didn’t choose, like, Kentucky Derby or something.

“It’s not prom without a plus-one,” Mr. Gojo continues, “so if there’s a special someone you’d like to bring with you, make sure you ask them out as soon as possible! This poster has all the details, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask me or (Y/N). Now, make sure you buy something nice to wear!”

“Thank you, Mr. Gojo!” I call out as he hangs up the poster near the door. A chorus of halfhearted “thank you”s from the others follow.

— — — — —

Nobara and I sit cross-legged on her bed, clad in our cutest pajamas. My final plan is something we planned together: a sleepover. We’ve been planning it for about a week, and we made a whole itinerary and everything. At the moment, we’re in the midst of a skincare routine.

Nobara gently massages a serum of some kind onto my face. “So, that prom thing... did you plan that for me?”

“I planned it for everyone,” I explain, trying not to move my face too much. “I thought it would be a nice pick-me-up after the exchange event, but I also knew that you and I would have a lot of fun going dress shopping. I was thinking we go next Sunday, after the exchange event?”

“For sure!” she agrees, closing the serum bottle and setting it down. “Trust me, I’ll help you find something that’ll make it impossible for Fushiguro to keep his hands off you!” She wiggles her fingers menacingly.

I sigh. “What is it with you and Fushiguro?”

“Me?!” She demands. “Me and Fushiguro? What about you and Fushiguro? You two were totally giving each other heart eyes on that mission the other day.”

“Hey, nuh-uh,” I argue, “we were just talking!”

“Uh, yuh-huh,” she snaps back, “and he was totally blushing too.”

“Probably because you were embarrassing him. You have a habit of trying to do that, you know.”

Nobara crosses her arms and turns up her nose. “Well, he wouldn’t be embarrassed if he wasn’t doing it. Besides, now he has the perfect opportunity to ask you out, and I’m gonna make sure he does it. You should be thankful, I’m playing matchmaker for the both of you.”

“Hey, don’t force it, alright? If something happens, then it happens. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“If both of you just ‘wait and see,’ then nothing will happen! I’m not gonna force you into anything, but one of you has to make the first move. How would you feel if he asked someone else to go to that prom thing with him, like... I don’t know, Maki?”

Oh, I didn’t think of that.

Fushiguro and Maki... they aren’t exactly a match made in heaven, but... in my mind, I already pictured him asking me...

Damn, it’s pretty self-centered, but maybe I would feel bad if he chose someone else to be his plus-one. I hate to admit it, but...

...maybe I’d even feel a little jealous.

“You’re hesitating! You do like him!”

“I do not,” I press, hoping the heat developing on my face wasn’t visible. “I was just... thinking.”

“Hey, listen, I’m not judging your taste in men,” she muses, “but him? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I thought more highly of you, you know.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“Yeah, because you’re embarrassing me. We just talked about this! Anyway,” I continue, “for prom, what kind of dresses do you wanna try on? I feel like I can see you in something dark blue.”

“Trying to distract me by talking about shopping?” She remarks. “Well, as much as I hate to admit it...”

She sighs, taking out her phone and opening Kinterest.

“...it’s working.”

We spend forever fantasizing about dresses, talking about which accessories would go best with them, and trying to decide which dress would look best on each of us. Don’t ask me what time we fell asleep, because I have no idea.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about this whole situation.

You’re too good for him anyway. Trust me, you can do way better than him.

What did she mean by that?

Fushiguro isn’t nearly as bad as Nobara made him out to be on that first or second day. Sure, he’s blunt, and he’s not exactly an open book, but that doesn’t make him bad for someone.

That doesn’t make him bad for me.

If he wasn’t considerate, he wouldn’t have taken on all the curse-fighting work on that first mission I went on with him. If he didn’t care about me, he wouldn’t have stayed and talked to me that one night. If he didn’t want to get to know me, he wouldn’t have asked me all of those questions. Sure, he talks about surpassing me, but he’s already stronger than me.

He’s already surpassed me.

He might just be saying he wants to surpass me not to motivate himself, but to motivate me. He’s giving me an extra push to work harder, an abstract goal for me to try to achieve. In its own way...

...That’s considerate as hell.

I can’t help but imagine the two of them as marching band supporters, as parade observers. Nobara would definitely clap and cheer during every silence, her makeup done in my school colors. I’d turn to salute, end up facing her, make eye contact, and fail to hide my smile.

Fushiguro, however, would watch quietly. I’d have to search for him, and while I’m focused on performing, I rarely have the wherewithal to scan the crowd. Just when I’d lost hope, he’d meet me at the end of the parade route and give me a bottle of water, trying to justify his gesture by saying something about how I “look like I need it.” I’d act offended and refuse the water, and he’d offer a remark like, “oh, I guess you don’t need it then.” He’d open it and go to take a drink, but I’d snatch it out of his hands; I’d never reject a gift. He’d say, “yeah, that’s what I thought,” and I’d tell him to “shut up, I need it more than you do anyway, you said it yourself.” He wouldn’t say anything; he would just look at me expectantly, and I’d give him a hug and say thank you. He’d scoff, but his arms snake their way around my waist anyway, and even without seeing his face I can tell he’s smiling...

Oh.

Well, that’s new.

Maybe Nobara’s right. Maybe I could do better than him. Maybe I could wait and see what happens...

...but maybe I don’t want to. Maybe...

Just maybe...

...I’ve got a little bit of a thing for Fushiguro, too.

Chapter Text

Finally, Nobara and I haul our suitcases out the door. Today, we’ll be traveling to Kyoto for the exchange event, and we made sure to pack for the occasion.

We meet up with Fushiguro and the second years, who all have one thing in common: none of them brought any luggage.

“Hey, why are you guys all empty-handed?” Nobara demands, dropping a heavily annotated travel magazine onto the stone sidewalk below us.

“Yeah, did you guys put your bags somewhere, or are you actually not bringing anything?” I add. “We’re going to Kyoto, remember? You know, for the exchange event?"

“Yes, it’s an exchange event with our sister school in Kyoto,” Panda explains, “here in Tokyo.”

...Oh.

This is embarrassing.

“No freaking way!” Nobara shouts. “I’ve been planning what to pack for weeks now! I was totally ready to go sightseeing, too!”

“The previous year’s winner always hosts it,” Panda continues.

“So, why’d you have to go and win it?!” Nobara demands.

“That rule would’ve been good to know,” I mutter. We got up early enough to pack our bags, and we’re not even traveling? Talk about disappointment...

Several sets of footsteps approach.

“Hey,” Maki says, “here they come.”

We all turn our attention to the nearby flight of stairs, and there they appear: the Kyoto students.

They have an air of confidence about them, but maybe that’s because they’re all upperclassmen who have more fighting experience. This event is supposed to be for second and third years, after all...

“You actually came to greet us?” Mai remarks. “So amateur...”

I ignore her, instead analyzing the other students.

Todo and Mai I recognize. Four other unfamiliar people stand in front of us: a blonde girl clutching a broom, which is probably related to her technique somehow; a humanoid robot, which I’m not even sure is allowed; a tall, slender boy who sort of reminds me of Fushiguro; and a girl with blue hair, who I didn’t even notice at first due to her placement in the back of the group.

A few paces behind them, another woman ascends the stairs. Their teacher, maybe...?

“Where is that idiot?” she mutters.

“Satoru’s running late,” Panda explains.

“As if that idiot ever shows up on time,” Maki remarks.

“Well,” Fushiguro adds, “no one said ‘idiot’ specifically referred to Gojo...”

“And yet, we all knew,” I reply.

The sound of wheels on stone grows louder. The idiot in question—Mr. Gojo, in case that wasn't obvious—jogs towards us, rolling in front of him a box of some kind.

“Sorry for the wait!” he exclaims. “I just got back from a big ol’ business trip overseas, so now it’s time to hand out the souvenirs! Everyone from Kyoto gets this tribal protective charm doll...”

He hands out little pink dolls to the Kyoto students.

“...Now, for all you Tokyo peeps, I have this!”

He gestures to the box in front of him.

No one reacts.

“A box, my favorite!” I joke. “How did you know?”

“It’s creepy when adults get all excited,” Nobara remarks.

Then, the hinged lid of the box flies open. From inside, a boy leaps up, exclaiming something and striking a pose.

Mr. Gojo gestures to the boy, as if to show him off. “It’s your long-dead friend Yuji!”

...

Huh?

I look at Nobara and Fushiguro, and they’ve both gone pale. Is this some sick joke, or is this guy actually their reanimated dead classmate...?

“Hey, what the hell?” The boy snaps. “What kind of a reaction is this? They don’t seem happy to see me at all!”

“Alrighty then.” Mr. Gojo wheels the boy around. “Everyone, this is Sukuna’s vessel, Yuji Itadori...”

The Kyoto students aren’t paying attention; they’re too busy messing with their new dolls.

Mr. Gojo goes to talk to the Kyoto school’s principal, leaving Itadori by himself, still standing in the box. Nobara kicks the box, grabbing his attention. “Hey, you got something you wanna say to us?” she demands, her voice low.

Itadori’s eyes widen in... fear, I guess. Now that I’m closer to him, I can see a pair of identical scars just below his eyes. I wonder if that’s how they revived him...

“I’m sorry,” Itadori stammers, “that I didn’t tell you I was still alive all this time?”

While I understand their reactions, I don’t agree with them. If I was in that situation, where someone I thought had died was actually still alive, I feel like I would be much happier upon receiving the news, especially with a reveal as grand as that. To be fair, though, I guess he’s been absent for well over a month... that’s kind of a long time to fake your death.

“Hey,” Itadori says, turning to me, “I think Gojo told me about you. (Y/N), right?”

“Yeah,” I reply, extending my hand for a handshake.

“Yuji Itadori,” he announces, grabbing my hand and giving it a firm shake. He smiles brightly, genuinely. “Nice to meet you!”

— — — — —

“So,” I ask Itadori as we walk to our designated event preparation room, “what was that about ‘Sukuna’s vessel?’ Is that your technique or something?”

Fushiguro interjects. He explains that Sukuna was an incredibly powerful sorcerer who, despite being at his prime centuries ago, still lives on today as the “King of Curses,” classified as a special-grade cursed spirit. As a spirit, he is a humanoid figure with four eyes, two faces, and more importantly, four arms. His severed fingers, twenty of them, are scattered around Japan acting as protective talismans.

Itadori interrupts. “Yeah, I ate one.”

I can’t cover my mouth in time to stop my laugh. Why did he say that?

“Okay, thanks for sharing,” I giggle. “Was it yummy?”

“Actually, they’re pretty gross,” he replies. “All I can really do is swallow them whole.”

“'Them?!'” I repeat. “Have you eaten more than one?”

“Only two!” he exclaims.

He wasn’t joking?!

“What do you mean ‘only two?’” I demand. “That’s ‘two’ many! What even possessed you to do that?”

“Well, Fushiguro told me I could eat it to get stronger,” he explains as if anything he’s saying is normal, “so I did it.”

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d encourage that, Fushiguro,” I remark.

“I didn’t encourage it,” Fushiguro says. “I told him not to, but that crazy dumbass did it anyway.”

“Hey!” Itadori exclaims. “I’m not crazy!”

“Notice how he doesn’t deny the ‘dumbass’ part?” Nobara chimes in.

So, Sukuna is a deity-turned sorcerer who lay dormant for centuries, and he suddenly manifested within Itadori, a normal guy, all because Itadori ingested one of Sukuna’s fingers?

Makes about as much sense as everything else around here.

Once all six—wait, no, all seven—of us make it to our event prep room, we make a plan. We have two things to worry about: exorcising cursed spirits and fending off attacks from the Kyoto students. We have until noon to figure something out.

The first event, the group portion, is an exorcism race. Fourth- and third-grade spirits are scattered around the forested part of campus, but the first team to exorcise the single second-grade spirit will automatically win. If a winner is not decided by sunset, about six or seven hours from the start of the event, the team who exorcises the most spirits will be dubbed the winner. We can use any fighting style we please, as long as we don’t kill or injure others beyond recovery.

“So, what’s our new plan?” Maki asks. “Our group battle plan is what we expected, but we have another member now. Should we change strategies? We don’t have much time...”

“Well, I think that’ll depend on Yuji,” Panda says, turning to Itadori. “What are your specialties?”

Itadori flexes an arm. “Punch, kick... ”

And then nothing else.

That’s it? He’s allegedly harboring some ancient, powerful cursed spirit deity within his own body and all he can do is punch and kick?!

“We’re already pretty well set for all of that,” Panda says.

“I don’t know what he’s been doing, since he’s been ‘dead’ for a while now,” Fushiguro chimes in. “But, I can say this much—”

He glances over to us.

“—if we all fought Itadori without cursed energy, he’d still beat us.”

Oh.

Damn.

So he’s not just a normal guy.

In a battle of pure strength, Itadori would win against Fushiguro, or Panda, or Maki?

“Do the Kyoto students actually want to win?” I ask, bringing the subject back to what our battle plan is going to be.

Everyone gives me the same blank look, as if to say yes, of course they want to win, what are you talking about?

“What do you mean?” Maki asks.

“I mean,” I explain, “are they going to focus more on exorcising curses or sabotaging us? We barely know anything about them, so there are some things we have no choice but to assume. Do they want to win, or do they just want us to lose?”

“I never thought of that,” Maki mutters.

“We’ve already talked to a couple of them before,” I add. “Based on those interactions, I would assume that they’ll probably focus more of their energy into sabotaging us. Of course, I don’t want our entire strategy to be based around defending against that, but if we expect it, we can fight it.”

“And how do we go about fighting it?” Panda asks. “We won’t win by just defending against their attacks.”

“I know that,” I reply, “but I also know that they’re thinking about this just as critically as we are. They probably know that we have them figured out. I’m just thinking out loud,” I add, “so if any of you have ideas, I’d like to hear them.”

...

No one says anything.

“Alright, I’ll throw something out,” I remark. “Let’s focus on individual Kyoto students and what they’re most likely to do.”

A beat of silence. Do I have to do everything?

“Todo will definitely be out to crush us right away,” Maki says, “and Mai just might follow him in order to get to me.”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” I affirm.

“Todo is a monster,” Maki continues, “the worst possible outcome would be that we all face him and we all get wiped out. Our plan was to leave one of us behind to deal with him, so Itadori, we’ll leave that to you. You don’t have to beat him,” she clarifies, “just try to hold out and buy us some time.”

“Todo’s the big, muscly guy,” I stage-whisper to Itadori. “He might ask you about your taste in women, so make sure you come up with a good answer. Don't pull the personality card, he doesn't like that.”

“I’m sorry, Megumi,” Panda says, “I know you wanted to take on Todo.”

“No, I’m fine either way,” Fushiguro assures.

“I’ll play along,” Itadori offers, “if you want me to.”

We come up with something specific enough to function as a plan, but vague enough to be easily changed on the fly. We’ll stick together until we encounter Todo, then we’ll scatter. If we encounter a low-level curse while still in one large group, Nobara and I are responsible for exorcising it. We’ll do our best to stay in groups of two or three so that no one person has to divide their attention between exorcising curses and defending against sabotage.

With that, we exit the room and make our way to our starting point, somewhere deep in the woods. I guess that’s to get rid of our advantage, considering we’re on our own turf.

“We’ll be starting the event in one minute!”

Mr. Gojo’s voice, distorted by the crackling of the loudspeakers, rings through the forest. “But, before we begin,” he continues, “let’s hear a few words of well-appreciated encouragement from the always eloquent Utahime Iori!”

“Uh, well, I guess,” stammers a voice I can only assume belongs to Ms. Iori, “although during this event, some degree of injury will be unavoidable, you should... help each other out, or something, if you can?”

She definitely wasn’t prepared to make a speech.

“Okay, sorry, time’s up,” Mr. Gojo interrupts.

“Gojo, you jerk, I wasn’t done!” Ms. Iori exclaims, a little quieter now. Mr. Gojo must have moved the microphone away from her.

“Now,” Mr. Gojo announces, “let the sister school exchange event...”

The speaker rings out and fireworks explode in the sky.

“...Begin!”

Chapter Text

All seven of us take off running into the woods.

Fushiguro summons his dog, who advances to the front of the group. The dog will warn us if something, curse or Kyoto student, draws near.

“Where do you think the cursed spirit boss is?” Itadori asks as we run.

“It was probably unleashed at the midpoint between the two groups,” Panda explains, “but we can’t expect it to stand still.”

Fushiguro’s dog barks, an indication and a warning. A curse resembling a spider descends from the trees.

That one’s for us.

“Let’s garner it in silk, Nobara!” I exclaim.

“Stop running!” Fushguro yells.

The rest of the group falls back, allowing me and Nobara to advance and exorcise the curse. Fushiguro grabs my arm and pulls me back, nearly causing me to lose my balance.

“Hey,” I exclaim, “I’m trying to kill that thing!”

His words are as sharp as his gaze. “I said stop running.”

Not even one second later, something blasts through the trees, destroying the area where I would have been standing.

No, wait.

When the dust settles, we see that it’s not something...

It’s someone.

It’s Todo.

Of all people, why is he the first person to show up?!

“Yeah, you’re all together,” Todo says, “now come at me, all at once!”

Little does he know, that’s not our plan.

Itadori charges forward, distracting Todo and allowing the rest of us to scatter. I catch up with Nobara, as well as Panda and Inumaki; only when I run in a different direction from Fushiguro does he let go of my arm.

“Todo’s a monster, that much is for sure,” Nobara says as we run.

“Don’t worry about him now,” Panda assures.

“Tuna,” Inumaki adds. I still don’t quite know how to decipher his encrypted speech...

We exit the forest and make our way to a collection of small buildings, where we stop to catch our breath.

“This is strange,” Panda says. “All the Kyoto students are moving together, and they’re heading for where we left Yuji. It would seem unlikely that that’s a coincidence.”

“They’re probably just headed towards the second-grade,” I offer. “I mean, if our two groups met up, that must mean we’re near the midpoint, right?”

“Maybe, but unless that thing is extremely cunning, at least one or two of us would’ve sensed it,” Panda explains. “There’s a chance that... they might be trying to kill Yuji.”

“What the hell?” Nobara demands. “How can that be?”

“Kelp,” Inumaki murmurs in disbelief.

“That’s quite the assumption,” I say. “Are you sure they’d go that far?”

“I didn’t sense that level of hostility from them when they arrived,” Panda continues, “but that was before we found out Yuji was still alive. For those who don’t know anything about him, just the fact that he’s the vessel of Sukuna makes him an object of fear.”

“Well, we have to make sure he’s okay!” Nobara exclaims, taking out her phone. She calls Itadori, and when he doesn’t pick up, she calls him again.

“Looks like Yuji’s not answering his phone anymore,” Panda states. “Nobara, (Y/N), head back to confirm that he’s safe. Toge and I will keep hunting the cursed spirit.”

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki argues, making an X with his arms.

“I know you’re worried about Yuji too,” Panda says, “but if my prediction here is correct, then the Kyoto students’ plan is to use the chaos and confusion of this battle to assassinate Yuji. Their attempts will end as soon as the battle does.”

“So, in other words,” I offer, “the sooner we exorcise that second-grade and finish this event, the sooner they stop targeting Itadori?”

“Makes sense,” Nobara says.

“Salmon,” Inumaki agrees.

“We won’t let them kill Yuji, and we’re gonna win this fight!” Panda exclaims.

— — — — —

“Hey, Nishimiya,” Nobara calls out to the girl hiding up a tree, “your old fart principal told you to kill Itadori, didn’t he?”

Nobara and I ran back into the woods, stopping in a small clearing. Our plan is to find Itadori and make sure he’s safe, but we have a stop to make first.

“Huh? What are you saying?” Nishimiya calls out, her voice high and innocent.

“You don’t need to try and hide it from us,” Nobara assures, “we’re out to kill someone too. To be specific, that watered-down version of Maki named Mai.”

Well, I’m not out to kill her, but I suppose I’ll play along.

“Seriously,” I add, “forget me, someone needs to teach her how to speak to others. You don’t just tell people you’d prefer it if they put less effort into their appearance!”

I hear something in the distance, so quiet I think I imagined it. I look at Nobara to make sure she hears it too.

Heavy footsteps.

A sinister presence.

“I think that’s the second-grade,” I say. “Let’s go exorcise it, and then this’ll be over and we’ll win.”

“Hold on, you two,” Nishimiya says. “I’m gonna teach you you’re not as cute as you think you are. I’ll show you how Mai has suffered, and teach you what it means for women to live as Jujutsu sorcerers. But first...”

She mounts her broom and rises to the skies.

“...you’ll have to catch me!”

— — — — —

“(Y/N) and Nobara,” Maki says, “you two should stick together since your techniques mesh well. You two would probably have the biggest advantage over Nishimiya.”

Which one is Nishimiya...? Oh, the girl with the broom.

“Ah, Sabrina.”

“Sabrina?” Nobara and Maki echo in sync.

“Yeah,” I explain, “because she’s blonde and short like Sabrina Carpenter, and she’s a teenage witch. Keep up, guys!”

“How do you know she’s a witch?” Nobara asks. “What is this, the Salem trials?”

“She carries a broom around, and her hair defies gravity,” I argue. “She’s absolutely a witch.”

— — — — —

“Come down here, you goddamn witch!” Nobara shouts, sounding a bit winded already.

“I’ve come down there a few times already,” Nishimiya replies. “I told you, you’re trying to catch me, first years!”

She and her broom spin in the air, creating a massive gust of wind. It breaks the ground, sending debris flying at us. It almost reminds me of being in a tornado...

Something is behind us.

If I can sense its presence, I can block it. I conjure a dome around me and Nobara just in time for the object—Nishimiya’s broom—to ricochet off, cracking the shield and making a metallic clang.

“You think Jujutsu sorcery is just about strength,” Nishimiya starts.

“That’s because it is,” Nobara calls out.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s about brains, too,” I add. “We know.”

“That’s only true for the men, though,” Nishimiya continues. “Women have to be cute, too, or they’ll be undervalued. Of course, even if they’re cute, they’ll still be undervalued unless they’re also strong. They don’t demand strength from female Jujutsu sorcerers, they demand perfection!”

“All of this sounds like a you issue,” I remark, conjuring feather-knives and throwing them at her. She dodges them with ease. “You’re too wrapped up in what other people think of you. That’s why you’re insecure.”

“Yeah, and you’re also a pain in the ass!” Nobara adds. She fires a few of her nails at Nishimiya, who effortlessly dodges those as well. Damn her use of the Z axis...

“Even perfection is easy compared to what’s always been demanded of Mai,” Nishimiya continues, still evading our attacks. “She’s from the Zenin Clan, where perfection is expected and demanded. Without the Zenin Clan lineage, women aren’t considered to be real Jujutsu sorcerers. If they’re not considered to be Jujutsu sorcerers, they’re not even recognized as people! She’s lived her entire life scorned in a family without a shred of affection.”

“That doesn’t give her an excuse to be mean,” I argue, “and it doesn’t make me feel bad for her either.”

“You think misfortune is a free pass to do anything?” Nobara demands. “I can’t stand her, regardless of her upbringing, and I love Maki, who had to endure the same upbringing.”

“Exactly!” I exclaim. “Why are you blaming others for the way Mai acts when her twin sister experienced all of the same things, and she actually turned into a good person in spite of it all?”

“What makes you think any one of us is obligated to attain perfection or such absurd demands?” Nobara asks. “Is your entire life just a job?”

Then, Nobara activates her technique.

The nails that Nishimiya evaded, now lodged in various trees, explode with cursed energy, causing debris to rain down. I want to conjure a dome to protect the two of us, but I know it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Live by the Feather only defends against objects with cursed energy. If I use a shield to block an object with cursed energy, the shield functions exactly as it should; but if I try to block an object without cursed energy, the objects simply phase through as if the shield isn’t even there.

Die by the Sword, however, works against both cursed and non-cursed objects. That’s why I favor using the latter so much, even if it does take up exponentially more energy.

Besides, I can’t block Nobara; she’s on a mission.

She uses one of her tree-stuck nails as a step and jumps up, reaching for and barely missing the bristles of Nishimiya’s broom.

Wait, actually, no, she doesn’t miss.

She grabs a bristle, just one, and sticks it in her straw doll.

“I don’t give a damn about your ‘men are this, and women have to be that,’” she says. “You can keep all that shit to yourself. I love myself when I’m pretty and all dressed up, and I love myself when I’m kicking ass!”

She strikes the doll with her hammer, causing Nishimiya to fall to the ground and getting rid of her air advantage.

Nobara pulls out a softer hammer and strikes Nishimiya across the face, creating a high-pitched chirp sound. She winds up to swing again, then gets pushed to the side by something, knocking her to the ground, unconscious.

Woah, what just happened...?

It was like a gust of wind pushed her, but whatever created it moved far too quickly to be seen, far too quickly for me to even perceive it.

Shit, I have to get Nobara to Dr. Ieiri. If whatever that was hit her in the head hard enough to knock her unconscious, it probably gave her, at the very least, a concussion.

I pick Nobara up and look back at Nishimiya, who still sits on the ground, watching. I turn to her.

Well, I suppose just because we’re opponents doesn’t mean I have to be mean to her. Never let them know your next move, right?

“Hey,” I start, “if people hate you for who you are, then it’s already too late and there’s nothing you can do to appease them. You can’t make everyone happy, it’s impossible. Stop trying so hard to satisfy others and focus on satisfying yourself instead, alright?”

I give her a small smile and turn around, making my way back to the main building.

As soon as we’re out of the clearing, Nobara stirs and wakes up.

“Something hit you in the head and knocked you out,” I explain. “I took you away from the area. You were only unconscious for about a minute, but you might have a concussion. Are you dizzy? Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she confirms as I set her down.

Wow, she got hit in the head hard enough to knock her out, but she doesn’t have any symptoms? That’s a little crazy...

I notice then how golden the sky has become. Wow, I didn’t realize that much time has passed since the beginning of the event; the sun is already setting.

We don’t have much time left to find and kill that second-grade. If someone has done it already, they probably would have announced it over the speakers. Damn it, I knew we should have turned around and gone for the second-grade instead of fighting Nishimiya!

I check my phone. Wait, it hasn't even been two hours. Why is the sky so yellow...?

Maki runs towards us. “You guys okay?”

“I’m fine,” I affirm, “but she got knocked out. You’re okay now, though, right?”

I look at Nobara for confirmation, and she nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“We need to figure out why a veil was just lowered,” Maki adds. “If it was for the event, they would have lowered it when the battle started. Is it to keep something out, or to keep us in?”

Wait.

It’s a veil?

It’s only then that the possibility crosses my mind.

The possibility that there’s something more sinister going on.

That we’re under attack.

“Who lowered it?” I wonder aloud. “That’s what we need to figure out. That’ll give us our answer, I think.”

This is no longer just a friendly battle between schools; it’s entirely possible that a third party has infiltrated the school grounds. I would’ve thought the higher-ups had some protections in place to prevent that, but maybe those protections aren’t strong enough to keep these people out? Or, maybe they got disabled somehow...?

No matter the answer, it means that whoever is responsible is extremely powerful. Do we have the means to stop them?

— — — — —

An explosion sounds from a nearby building.

“I’ll go investigate,” Maki says, climbing onto the roof. “You two go somewhere safer.”

“We’re coming with you,” Nobara argues.

“Yeah, you’re strong, but we won’t let you fight by yourself,” I add.

Maki gestures to the buildings. “Listen.”

We hear another explosion, as well as some shuffling and indistinct yelling.

“It sounds like there’s already a fight going on,” Maki explains. “That means our allies are on the scene. I’ll be fine, you two just get out of here.”

With that, Maki vaults over the roof and we lose sight of her.

“Okay,” I start, “is there anyone else we need to check on? I’ll do a head count. Maki is over there, and Panda is looking for the second-grade in the woods with Inumaki. You and I are here, and Itadori is... where’s Itadori? Is he still fighting Todo?”

“Probably, if he’s not already dead for real this time,” Nobara remarks.

“Do you wanna try calling him again?”

She takes out her phone. Maki, Panda, Inumaki, me, Nobara, Itadori... that’s only six...

I glance at Nobara’s phone screen and gasp.

Fushiguro!

Last time I saw him was right after we scattered. I know he’s strong and skilled and can fend for himself, but so are the Kyoto students, and clearly, so is whoever has infiltrated. That uncertainty about his location and status, especially now, makes that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach emerge...

I can’t stop my mind from going to the worst possible scenario. What if he...

Damn it.

What do I do?

I look up at the sky as if an answer will descend from the heavens. The early afternoon sky is darker than it should be due to the veil, but also glowing a sickly shade of yellow. It almost matches the color of the clouds during a tornado back home...

“Itadori’s still not answering,” Nobara says, snapping me back to reality. “If that idiot is still alive, I’ll have a bone to pick with him!”

“Speaking of having a bone to pick...”

We both whip around to the origin of the voice. Behind us is Mai, her arms crossed, looking slightly beaten up.

“...we meet again.”

Nobara and I take a defensive stance.

“Relax,” Mai says, “I’m not going to fight you. We may even end up having to work together, since we’re under attack.”

“Do you know about this?” I demand, gesturing to the yellow sky. “Are you guys the ones who are responsible?”

“Not for the veil,” Mai explains. “We were only under orders to kill one of you.”

“So you were trying to kill Itadori,” Nobara says. “How much of a coward are you that you would kill on someone’s orders?”

“Nevermind that,” Mai replies, avoiding the question. “More importantly, the veil. It was created to allow everyone except for Gojo to enter. Or, so Momo told me,” she explains before I can ask how the hell she figured that out.

“So?” Nobara asks. “Why should we trust you?”

“There must be a reason as to why they wanted to keep Gojo out, but allow everyone else in, right?” Mai continues. “I think they’re trying to prevent Gojo from intervening in their plan. Come on, let’s go find Iori.” She starts to walk away, gesturing for us to follow her.

“Hey, wait!” Nobara calls out, jogging to catch up to Mai. “Answer my question, damn it!”

I catch up to them. “Nobara, I think she’s telling the truth.”

“Huh?” Nobara demands. “Now you’re taking her side? Who are you, and what did you do with (Y/N)?!”

“Her story adds up,” I explain. “It would make sense that she met up with Nishimiya after we left her in the clearing, remember? She’s their air cover, so if anyone has wisdom on this situation, it’s her. Besides, Mai admitted to trying to kill Itadori. Who would lie about that?”

Nobara scoffs and crosses her arms. “Fine, but if you're wrong about this, you're paying for dinner.”

"That's fine."

— — — — —

It doesn’t take long to find Ms. Iori. On the other side of an old, moss and ivy-covered brick wall, Ms. Iori faces a blond man I don’t recognize, who wields a sword and wears a strange black garment similar to a toga.

A... curse user?

Mr. Gojo told me about curse users on my first day. They’re essentially Jujutsu sorcerers who use their power for evil instead of for good. If Jujutsu sorcerers use their techniques to help others, then curse users use their techniques to help themselves.

Another thing about this guy? He won’t shut up.

This guy hasn’t noticed the three of us yet because he’s too busy monologuing, even though we’re very much in his line of sight. Nobara and I share an expression that says seriously? We have to deal with this nuisance? Well, at least it’ll be fun to humble him...

“I bet all the girls hate you,” Nobara says, making the man look up.

“I swear,” I add, “men like you talk just to hear the sound of your own voice. It’s not all men, but it’s certainly you.”

“Here you meet someone new and all you do is talk about yourself,” Nobara continues. “I’m gonna charge you.”

“What makes you think you’re a good enough listener to charge anyone money for doing it?” Mai chimes in.

“You always do this!” Nobara exclaims. “You pick the worst times to start these arguments!”

“Yeah, I thought we were working together,” I say, “why are we fighting all of a sudden?”

The man laughs out loud, bringing us back to the issue at hand. “Wow, who knew I was so popular? Look at all these girls!”

“Weren’t you listening to me?” Nobara demands.

“You think this guy can listen?” I remark.

“No sweat,” Mai says, “I’ll cover you. Careful not to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Be careful where you aim!” Nobara shouts.

“If we get hurt,” I warn, “I’ll assume you did it on purpose, Mai.”

The atmosphere changes colors again. As we look up, the yellow veil melts away, revealing the true blue of the mid-afternoon sky.

“Damn it, time to run!” the man says, turning on his heel and sprinting away. There’s no point in chasing him.

“What was his deal?” I hear Ms. Iori mutter to herself.

Maybe I was wrong to assume that we were under attack, but enemies definitely infiltrated the campus. How many, I wonder? What was their goal, and did they accomplish it...? There’s no telling how far the infiltrators were willing to go to achieve their goals. If it was a group of curse users, I wouldn’t put murder past them.

God, I hope no one got murdered.

The little voice in my head is telling me to check on everyone. My heart, though, only seems to care about making sure Fushiguro is still alive. If he’s not...

...I don’t know what I’ll do.

Chapter Text

“So, Itadori,” Nobara starts, “how is it possible that you get along with a gorilla like Todo?”

It’s been a few hours since today’s portion of the exchange event was called off with no winner decided, and the sun has since set (for real this time). We ordered a pizza and brought it to Fushiguro’s room, where Fushiguro is in bed recovering, thank goodness. Apparently, he got hurt pretty badly, the worst out of all of us by the sound of it. Nobara props herself up on a stool and Itadori sits backwards on a swivel chair, but I sit near the head of Fushiguro’s bed, legs hanging off of the side.

“Well, the two of us got along,” Itadori begins, “but it was like—I mean, I remember everything, but... it feels like I wasn’t exactly myself at the time.”

“What do you mean?” Nobara asks. “Were you drinking?”

“Yeah,” I agree, “the way you're describing it sounds like you were drunk.”

“You seriously believe I could’ve been drinking in a situation like that?” Itadori asks. “That would’ve been insane! Anyway, I’m just glad your injuries weren’t too serious, Fushiguro. To your health and this pizza!”

Nobara, Itadori and I bump our slices together in a cheers, then take a bite.

“You could’ve brought me something easier to digest,” Fushiguro remarks.

“Hey, no complaining,” Nobara replies through a mouthful of pizza.

“You’re welcome,” I add.

“Apparently, I got off easier because my cursed energy was all gone,” Fushiguro continues. “Ieiri was able to fix me up as soon as the roots were removed.”

The roots?!

I don’t react, not externally. What the hell happened to him out there?

“Itadori, you’ve grown a lot stronger,” Fushiguro says, catching Itadori just as he’s about to take another bite. “Before, we both said that we stood by our convictions. I still think that’s true. But then, on the other end, you could say that we’re both wrong about all of that...”

Whatever he’s talking about must have happened before I came here.

“Some questions don’t have any answers,” Nobara replies. “Don’t think so hard, you’ll go bald.”

I snicker. “You’d benefit from shutting off your brain every once in a while, Fushiguro. You’re spouting burned-out nonsense.”

Fushiguro looks down, staring into the pizza box. “You’re right,” he says, “there is no answer, and maybe it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I know it’s just a matter of trying to accept it, but why accept something you don’t want? Only weak sorcerers do that, so I’ve decided—”

He looks up at Itadori.

“—I’ll surpass you.”

“You never change,” Itadori chuckles.

“Surpassing me and Itadori?” I remark. “That’s quite the task.”

“Did I get left out of the conversation again?” Nobara demands.

“There you go, that’s my brother and his friends for you,” Todo says, leaning over the footboard of the bed.

Wait, Todo?!

Itadori bolts out the window with superhuman speed. “Wait, where are you going, brother?” Todo calls out, chasing after him. All Nobara, Fushiguro, and I can do is watch, dumbfounded.

Brother...? There’s no way that guy is Itadori’s sibling...

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” Nobara says, standing up and taking the now-empty pizza box with her. We watch as she shuts the door behind her.

The last time I was alone with Fushiguro was that one evening where I showed him my sketches. Of course, it’s a little different now; some things have... developed since then, and I'm not just talking about my technique.

That’s not important right now. I have something else to ask him about.

“What were those roots you mentioned?” I ask. “What happened to you out there, Fushiguro?”

“Were you... worried about me?” Fushiguro replies, sounding just a little bit surprised.

“Yes, I was worried about you!” I exclaim. “I knew you would be fine in a fight, but damn, you scared me. Now, stop avoiding the question and tell me what happened, please.”

“I got stuck fighting an unregistered special-grade capable of speaking,” Fushiguro explains. “One of its attacks was a bud that fed on cursed energy and took root in my stomach. Apparently, the special-grade got away before Itadori and Todo finished it off.”

I guess that explains why he wanted something easy to digest.

There are so many things I want to ask him. You fought a special-grade and survived? What did it say? Were there any other cursed spirits with it? Any curse users?

Only one question comes out, though:

“How often do you think about death?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to get so morbid all of a sudden,” I add, “especially while you’re still recovering.”

“No, it’s fine,” he assures. “I think about it every once in a while. In this line of work, you kind of have to.”

“I ask because I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently,” I explain. “I mean, when I first got here, I asked why there were only three first years, and Mr. Gojo told me that the fourth one died. Of course, that was Itadori, but the timing aligned so I only met him today.

“We have brushes with death all the time,” I continue, “like on my first ever mission I went on. I was with you, in the elementary school, remember? I made that dome completely by accident, but if my body didn’t decide to do it, I think... I think I would’ve died right then.

“And then, there was today. I kept trying to tell myself that you were fine, but I couldn’t stop my mind from going to the worst possible scenario. Fushiguro...”

Daringly, I rest my hand atop his.

“...I was scared you died.”

He doesn’t move his hand; it seems like he’s alright with it.

“You know what I’ve noticed?” I offer.

“What’s that?”

I trace the details of his hands, from his thin wrists up to his raised tendons and slender fingers. “I’ve never seen a Jujutsu sorcerer wear a wedding ring.”

“That so?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Mr. Gojo doesn’t, Dr. Ieiri doesn’t, I don’t think Mr. Ijichi does... I mean, that doesn’t mean none of them are in a relationship, but I guess they know better than to get close to someone like that. They know there’s always a chance that they’ll leave to go on a mission, and their spouse will be waiting for them to come home, but they never do.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, a simple indication that he’s still listening.

“I guess they don’t wanna let their life have that much of an impact on anyone,” I continue, “much less the loss of their life. They don’t allow themselves to get too attached to anyone, and I guess in that respect...”

I look back up at him and shrug.

“...I’m fucked.”

He gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything, allowing me to elaborate.

“I’m already so attached to Nobara, and you, and the second years,” I explain, “and I’ll probably get attached to Itadori as well. That’s my problem, isn’t it? I’ve always treated attachment and friendship like they’re permanent, and life has proven time and time again that they’re not. I’ve already lost too many people because of stupid decisions I’ve made, and I don’t want any of you to have the same fate. I know it’s inevitable, and really fucking selfish, but I don’t wanna lose any of you.”

My eyes well up as I speak, and my voice breaks on the last word. Shit, I didn’t want that to happen in front of him...

Fushiguro stays silent, his gaze fixed on our overlapping hands. He’d move away if he was uncomfortable, right...? Does that mean he’s okay with this? Or even, maybe... that he likes it? Am I overthinking this?

He turns his hand under mine so that our palms meet, our fingers nearly interlocking.

“I can’t promise that I won’t die,” he says finally.

I give him a look. “Was that supposed to be comforti—”

“But I can promise that you won’t lose me.”

Oh.

Wow.

Shit, I needed to hear that.

I let go of his hand, instead wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Hesitantly, he returns the gesture, ever-so-gently resting one hand on my upper back.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily either,” I add.

“It’s late,” he says, pulling away slowly as if it takes an immense amount of self-control for him to do so. “You should... get to bed soon.”

I sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe you actually can get rid of me pretty easily, huh? Don’t stay up too late yourself.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good.” I stand up and start making my way to the door, but turn back to him. “You need anything before I leave? Some water?”

“No, I’m fine.”

I cross my arms and give him a look. “If you didn’t need anything, you would’ve said ‘I’m good.’ ‘I’m fine’ means you need something and you’re not telling me because you don’t wanna be a burden, even though I’m offering.”

“Really,” he presses, “I don’t need anything.”

“Okay,” I reply, “but if you do—if you ever need anything, I mean—I’m right down the hall. Listen, I don’t care if it’s two in the morning or two in the afternoon. It doesn’t matter if you need patching up, or help making a tough decision, or you just need a hug. It’s never a burden or a chore, not to me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he affirms. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” I reply. “I want to help you out in any way I can. Alright, goodnight.”

I leave, shut the door behind me, and sigh.

Well.

Alright.

I make my way down the hallway back to my own room, lost in thought. Did I actually just hug him? And hold his hand? And not only did he not push me away like I was scared he would, but he returned the gestures?!

Holy shit, maybe something more is developing.

“Well?”

Nobara stands outside of her room, arms crossed. I didn’t notice her until just now, and her sudden appearance makes me jump.

“You scared me!” I exclaim. “I almost sliced you in half!”

“You were lost in thought and smiling like a maniac,” she muses. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “We just talked.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

She raises an eyebrow and stays silent.

I sigh. “Fine, we... held hands, too.”

She gasps. “I knew it, you liar! Who offered?”

“I did,” I reply, “and he went along with it.”

“You flirt!” She teases, slapping my arm.

“Shut up.” I smile and roll my eyes. “I’m going to bed. We have to be up early tomorrow.”

“I guess I need my beauty rest too. See you in the morning?”

“Yeah.”

With that, we both enter our respective rooms.

Right. We have to be up early to get ready for our second event.

After all, this exchange event is far from over.

Chapter Text

“So, anyway,” Mr. Gojo says a little too lightly, “that happened, and some people died, but what now?”

Mr. Gojo just finished explaining to all of us what happened during that attack. Apparently, the attackers broke in to steal a few of Sukuna’s fingers, as well as a couple of other items, that were being kept under watch here.

Wait, we have cursed objects of that degree here on campus? Well, obviously not anymore, but... aren’t those fingers, like, the most cursed objects?

“The exchange event will continue, of course!” Todo declares.

“What are your reasons?” Mr. Gojo asks. His small smile tells me that he’ll agree to continuing the event even without good reasoning.

“For one,” Todo starts, “only those who have a direct connection to the victims have any right to mourn them. Secondly, if people died, that’s all the more reason for us to work to become stronger. Acquired strength can only come from the accumulation of results. The most important thing now is for those results to continue to exist.”

...This guy’s a lot smarter than I thought he was.

“Third,” he adds, “when a student feels like they weren’t able to bring out their best, it’ll hang over them until they die.”

“Yeah, I’m fine with all that,” Fushiguro affirms.

“We’ll still win anyway,” Nobara remarks.

“I’m just here to have fun,” I add.

“Since we have an uneven number of people,” Maki starts, “how will we pair up for the individual fights?”

“Huh?” Mr. Gojo says. “There are no individual battles.”

What? I thought the second day of the event was supposed to be one-on-one fights! What did we spend all that time training for?

“I don’t like routines,” Mr. Gojo adds, “but this is how it’s done: every year, we put the competition methods here—”

He tosses a small box to Itadori, who fumbles with it.

“—and pull one out.”

Itadori reaches into the box and digs around. He grabs a slip of paper and unfolds it, and some combination of shock and confusion overtakes his face.

“Huh? Baseball?”

— — — — —

And that’s how we got here. I’ll be honest: I didn’t even know we had a baseball field.

Team Kyoto is up to bat first, but they don’t score any points this inning. Their three outs occur almost back-to-back, which means before we know it, it’s our turn to bat.

Nobara steps up to home plate first. “They call me Tanaka of Tohoku!”

“Tanaka is the Tanaka of Tohoku,” Fushiguro calls out from the bench.

“And Tanaka’s a pitcher!” Itadori exclaims.

Nobara turns to glare at us. Well, at them.

“Don’t worry,” I call out to her, “I still think you’re cool and intimidating.”

“Thank you!” she replies. “Finally, some appreciation!”

She turns back to the pitching mound, only to see Mai wheeling out a pitching machine labeled “Mechamaru.”

Wait, what happened to the other guy, the robot? No wonder it feels like they’re missing someone!

Nobara hits the ball more aggressively than necessary, yelling something about “getting a hit.” Well, at least the pitches from the machine will be fairly consistent when it’s my turn...

Up next to bat is Fushiguro, who steps up to the right side of the plate.

Wait, the right side?

Interesting... is he left-handed?

The Mechamaru pitching machine whirs and spits out a ball. Fushiguro barely bunts it, a stark contrast to Nobara's strategy. It allows Todo, their catcher, to throw the ball to first base before Fushiguro gets there, and he’s out.

Obviously.

Even Mr. Gojo looks a little surprised. Why the hell did he do that...?

“That move is illegal in kickball, you know,” I remark as Fushiguro returns to the bench.

“Yeah? Well, we’re not playing kickball, so it’s fine,” Fushiguro replies, taking off his batter’s helmet to reveal that his hair somehow got even messier. “You didn’t seem to care about the game at all before just now. Not having fun?”

“I’ve just never really enjoyed team sports,” I explain. “I think it’s because every experience I’ve ever had playing team sports has been... not bad, but not fun, you know?”

He takes a seat next to me. “Is it all sports, or do you just have a vendetta against baseball?”

“I think it’s all of them,” I explain, “but I will say I’d be having more fun if we were playing volleyball or Only Dance or something.”

I shift in my seat, turning towards him slightly.

“You know, you’ve asked me a bunch of questions, but I barely know anything about you. For starters, are you left-handed?”

“Yeah,” he says, “why?”

“I noticed that you bat left-handed, so I was just curious,” I explain. “Well, hey, that means when we hold hands, we can do separate tasks because our dominant hands will both be free!”

Shit, was that too forward?

“I guess you’re right,” he says slowly. “You’d be fine with... holding hands?”

“I offered, Fushiguro,” I reply. “Why would I offer something I’m not fine with? Besides, we already crossed that bridge yesterday.”

“You have a point.”

Maybe I’m just seeing things, but he seems kind of nervous... Did I do that? With just that one comment?

“Speaking of offering,” he says suddenly, “I was wondering if—well, you know, that event that you—”

“That’s three outs,” Mr. Gojo calls out, interrupting him. “Change up!”

“Damn, already?” I stand up from the bench and turn back to Fushiguro. “Hey, tell me later, alright?”

“Yeah.”

I struggle to redon my mitt. If I could catch a baseball with just my hands, I would; I hate having to wear this thing!

— — — — —

An almost superhuman home run from Itadori in the second inning starts us off strong. We end up winning the game, and in turn, the exchange event! Thank goodness, because I did not want to lose to them and never hear the end of it from Mai.

Especially because I’m sitting right across the table from her.

After the game ends, we all go to a ramen place for dinner. How the restaurant was able to seat a party of fourteen, I don’t know.

“So, (Y/N),” Ms. Iori begins, “you grew up in America, right? What was that like?”

“Well, what do you wanna know?” I ask. “I can talk about the area I grew up in, or my high school experiences, or the food...”

“Tell us about your high school!” Nobara exclaims. “I wanna know what it was like. You’ve never even told us.”

“You've never asked," I muse. "But, anyway, I went to a public school, which was okay, I guess. I met some cool people, and I joined some fun clubs.”

“What kind of clubs?” Ms. Iori asks, keeping the conversation going.

“And what kind of people?” Nobara adds.

“I did some theatre,” I continue, “which is where I met a lot of my friends. I was also in a trivia club, even though I was really only good at doing the quick calculations.”

“Give us a trivia question!” Miwa exclaims.

“Alright, well...”

I trail off, trying to recall some of the questions my team was asked.

“...What symbol do you type when you press ‘shift’ and ‘7’ on an American keyboard?”

People start calling out their guesses.

“The hashtag?”

“The asterisk!”

“A yen sign?”

“She said ‘American keyboard,’ so it’s likely a dollar sign.”

“Oh, the percent!”

I shake my head at all of them.

“It’s the ampersand,” I say. “You know, the swirly ‘and’ symbol. We actually got asked that question at a competition, and not to brag or anything, but I was the only one who knew the answer.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Ms. Iori replies. “Were you in any other clubs?”

“Yeah,” I continue. “I was also in marching band. The past couple years, I’ve been a drum major. You know, the person who conducts the band and blows the whistle? That was my job. That’s why I started attending here kind of late, I was busy bossing people around.

“I was also in pep band, where we went to football games, or basketball games, or whatever, and we played pop songs that the fans enjoyed. We played at homecoming, which is basically like a really important football game with a dance afterwards. Hey, wait, speaking of American high school dances...”

I look over at Mr. Gojo, hoping he’ll predict what I’m about to say. He gives me a small smile and a single nod, exactly the affirmation I’m looking for.

“...How would you Kyoto guys like to get all dressed up and come back here in a couple of weeks?” I ask. “We’re having prom, which is a super popular event back in American high school. Students get dressed up, and take pictures, and dance... It's a lot of fun. I’d love to see all of you there.”

I turn to Ms. Iori, who’s probably responsible for making that decision.

“That sounds wonderful, (Y/N),” she affirms. “We would love to.”

“Awesome!” I exclaim. “It’s two Saturdays from now, and it’s a formal occasion, so make sure to show up in your best.”

We finish dinner and the Kyoto students make their way back to the station. After we start walking back to campus, I get the attention of my classmates.

“Nobara and I are going prom shopping on Sunday, if you guys wanna come with,” I offer. “Us girls can shop for dresses, and you boys can look for whatever you wanna wear.”

They all give me various affirmations, confirming that they’ll be coming with us.

I fall behind the group and walk next to Fushiguro. “Hey, what were you gonna say earlier? You know, when we were on the bench?”

One of his hands finds the back of his neck. “I was...”

He sighs.

“I was gonna ask you if you wanted to... be my plus-one to that prom thing.”

I didn’t think he would even want to go, much less actually ask me!

I smile. “I’d love to.”

“Really? I mean, thanks,” he says. “To be honest, I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”

“Why on earth would I say no?” I remark. “If there was anyone here I could choose to go with, it would be you. Or Nobara, I guess, but she doesn’t count. Going to prom with friends and going with a date are two completely different things.”

“Date?” He echoes. “Is this... a date?”

“I mean, not technically,” I explain. “In this context, it’s just another word for plus-one. I guess it could be a date, though, if you wanted it to be.”

“You... would be okay with that?”

“Hey, I offered, remember? You make the decision.”

“Okay, well,” he says slowly, “I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“Alright, it’s a date,” I affirm.

“Yeah, it’s a date,” he repeats, looking down, away, everywhere but at me.

“Ah, young love!”

Mr. Gojo slots himself between me and Fushiguro, casually draping an arm around each of our shoulders. How much of that conversation did he hear?!

“Stay out of this, Gojo,” Fushiguro mutters, shoving Mr. Gojo back. “This is none of your business.”

“Why don’t you ask Ms. Iori to be your date?” I add.

“Utahime?” Mr. Gojo muses. “She’d reject me before I said a word.”

He makes his way up to the rest of the group, a few paces in front of me and Fushiguro.

“Well,” I begin, “since we’re going together, we should match. Once I find a dress tomorrow, I’ll help you find a tie that matches it.”

“I can’t do it myself?” he remarks.

“Nope,” I reply. “I don’t trust you to color match. Besides, you’re not supposed to see my dress until the day of the event.”

He doesn’t respond. We walk in silence for a few moments, listening in on the conversation going on between the rest of the group in front of us. Somehow, they started talking about that damn blue-and-black, white-and-gold dress. That picture is so old! Besides, it’s been proven that the dress is blue and black; anyone who says or sees otherwise is just plain wrong.

Fushiguro’s hand brushes against mine.

A few seconds later, it happens again.

I would’ve ignored it if it was just once, but twice...?

Oh, fuck it. I know he’s not going to work up the courage.

I grab his hand, interlocking our fingers. I glance at him, gauging his reaction. He presses his lips together into a thin line, then fidgets with his uniform collar. He turns away, but not quickly enough to conceal the pink tint on his cheeks. He didn’t react like this yesterday... is it because we’re not alone?

I smile. At least whatever this is seems to be going in a positive direction.

Chapter Text

“Should we buy jewelry?” Nobara asks excitedly. “Let’s look at shoes, too!”

“Let’s decide on dresses first,” I reply. “It’s easier to match your accessories to your dress, not the other way around.”

The following Sunday, all seven of us travel into the city to shop for formal wear. Nobara, Maki, and I just split off from the boys, who are off to find their own suits, tuxes, or whatever they end up deciding on.

“So, (Y/N),” Maki begins as we step into a small bridal shop, “what kind of dresses are we supposed to get anyway?”

“Long ones,” I explain. “The shorter dresses are more of a winter formal thing, which is a completely different event. Nobody ever follows the theme outfit-wise, so don’t worry too much about that either. Just focus on finding something you like.”

Maki leafs through the dresses, looking a little confused.

“Here,” I say, “you seem lost, so I’ll give you a place to start: what’s your favorite color?”

Maki pauses, thinking.

“Purple, I guess.”

“Awesome.”

I pull from the rack a simple, deep purple satin dress.

“How about this one, just as a starting point?” I offer. “I promise once you get started, it’s a lot easier.”

“Sure.” She takes the dress and starts to head off to a fitting room.

“Come out and give us a review once you’ve put it on!”

“Alright, I will.”

“You picked a great first one,” Nobara says as soon as Maki is out of earshot. “That’ll look so good on her.”

“I know!” I exclaim. “I just hope we can find something she likes, because I don’t know how decisive she’ll be, especially when it comes to this stuff. By the way, what are you looking for?”

“Well,” Nobara begins, “I think I want something easy to dance in, but also kinda... sexy?”

“Okay, so maybe something with a slit,” I reply. “What color?”

“Blue or green, maybe?”

“Perfect,” I say, heading over to the abundance of dark green dresses. Good thing these are sorted by color...

I grab a sparkly, deep green gown. “Something like this?”

We’re interrupted by the metallic screech of a curtain being pulled.

“I’m not sure about this,” Maki says immediately, stepping out of the fitting room and gesturing to the center of the plunge neckline.

Nobara’s and my jaws drop. Holy shit, she looks so good!

“That’s okay,” I say, approaching her while Nobara enters a separate fitting room. “We can find you something with a different neckline. How about the rest of it? Do you like the color? The fabric?”

Maki pauses for a second, studying the dress in the shop’s large mirror.

“I like the purple,” she replies, “but I’d like to try some other colors as well." She gestures to the skirt. "This is too heavy.”

“Okay, so something with a straighter neckline and thinner skirt,” I mumble to myself. I head over to the racks. “Hang on, I’ll find you something.”

I skim through the gowns and grab one somewhere between dark gray and navy blue. It looks out of place on the rack, almost as if I’m supposed to grab it.

I hand her the gown. “Here, try this one.”

Nobara pulls back her curtain, leaning on the wall and striking a pose. Damn it, why are all of my friends so pretty?!

“That green goes really well with your skin tone!” I exclaim. “The shape is super flattering, too.”

She steps in front of the mirror, examining herself. “I like it, but it feels basic, and like it doesn’t stand out. I like trendy, but this feels a little too mainstream.”

“Aren’t you going to try on dresses, (Y/N)?” Maki asks.

“I will,” I explain, “but I wanna help you guys first. I’ve done this before, so I know firsthand how overwhelming it can be sometimes. I wanna make it a little easier for you.”

“That’s nice of you,” Nobara says.

“It is,” Maki agrees.

“I do wanna find a dress quickly, though,” I continue. “I told Fushiguro I’d help him find a tie to match my dress. They’re boys, they’ll be done before we are. I don’t wanna keep him waiting too long.”

“Aw, you guys are matching?” Nobara asks. “Did he finally ask you?”

I start to leaf through the purple dresses again. “Yeah, we’re going together.”

She makes a celebratory fist. “Yes! I didn’t even have to force him!”

“Exactly,” I reply. “Notice how things happen when you don’t interfere?”

— — — — —

Nobara requested to learn how to slow dance.

After we started heading back to campus, I mentioned that I know the steps of the waltz, and she insisted I teach her. They don’t really play that kind of music at prom, but she doesn’t need to know that.

We end up practicing in the lounge, the furniture pushed up against the walls to create a small dancefloor in the room’s center. A slow metronome plays from my phone, much easier for a beginner to follow than actual classical music.

“You probably want to count to three, but I think it’s easier to count to six,” I explain. “It’s called a box step because you make a box when you step, see?”

I trace an imaginary square on the floor as I take the steps again.

“Now, pay attention to this metronome.”

I pause. We listen to the soft, mechanical ticking emanating from my phone.

“That’s the tempo we’re gonna go at,” I explain. “I’ll count us off.”

We step slowly along with the metronome, Nobara’s eyes never leaving her feet. “See? You’re getting it,” I affirm.

“We havin’ dance lessons?” Itadori asks, entering the room from the hallway.

“Yeah, come on over!” I wave him over to the pseudo-dancefloor. “She’s pretty much got it down, so I can teach you next.”

I give Itadori the same instruction as I gave Nobara. Wow, I thought Nobara mastered it quickly, but it clicks for Itadori right away!

“So, do you have dancing experience, or are you just a fast learner?” I ask.

“Well,” he starts, “I’ve been told I have pretty good coordination, but hey, give yourself some credit. I learned so fast because you’re a great teacher!”

“Oh, really? Well... thank you.”

I’ve never been told that before.

Okay, now I see why they missed him so much.

“Why’d you move the furniture?”

Fushiguro appeared in the kitchen at some point, sporting a coffee mug and a tired expression. “You could’ve gone to the gym, you know.”

“This is more whimsical and fun!” I exclaim.

“What would you know about fun and whimsy, Fushiguro?” Nobara adds. “Come on, let (Y/N) teach you to dance!”

“Yeah,” I agree, waving him over. “Don’t you want to learn?”

He turns and heads back to his room. "I want to drink my coffee in peace."

“Coffee?” I repeat. “It’s, like, 7 PM!”

“It’s decaf,” he calls from down the hallway.

— — — — —

I retreat to my room after moving the furniture back to its place in the center of the common room. I’m stuck in that stage between wanting to get ready for bed and actually doing it, wishing that something would break me out of it—

—and a quiet, almost hesitant-sounding knock at the door does just that.

I open the door to see Fushiguro.

“Fushiguro, hi.”

“Hey. It wasn’t decaf.”

I chuckle at the connection to our interaction from earlier. “Okay, do you wanna just hang out? Talk for a bit?”

“Actually,” he begins, “if it’s not too much to ask right now...”

He looks down at the floor.

“...Could you... teach me to dance? I realize now that that’ll probably be good for that event.”

“Yeah, for sure,” I affirm. “Maybe that’ll use up some of your energy. Come on in.”

“We’re not going to the common room?”

“I already put the furniture back. Besides, we’re already here, and look—”

I step aside and gesture to the tidy floor.

“—we have a dancefloor.”

He slowly steps inside, shutting the door quietly.

“We’ll have to be quiet since Nobara’s on the other side of that wall," I say. "These walls are thin as hell.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Itadori snores. Ask me how I know.”

“Oh, I’m... so sorry that you have to deal with that.”

We start out side-by-side. I give him the same instructions I gave Nobara and Itadori, a little quieter this time. Once he gets the steps down, I face him and step along with him.

He keeps tripping over his own feet.

“Having trouble?” I ask. “Try going up on the platforms of your feet, not super high, just enough to take the weight off your heels. It’ll help.”

After a few seconds, his balance improves, though he still has yet to stop looking down at his feet. “Where’d you learn all this stuff? Theatre?”

“Marching band, actually,” I reply.

“Oh, okay,” he says. “Was it hard? Marching band, I mean. I feel like it would be difficult to play an instrument and walk at the same time.”

“Some people do struggle with it,” I explain, “but a lot of people just need some time to practice and they’re pros by the beginning of the next season.”

I pause, lifting his arm up and spinning under it.

“I wouldn’t say it’s hard, though.”

“I ask because I wanted to pick up an instrument when I was younger,” he explains.

“Oh, cool, which one?”

“Violin, but I never got around to it.”

“You didn’t join your school’s band or orchestra or anything?”

“No, too big of a commitment.”

“That’s fair.”

At some point, we stopped dancing. Now, we’re just standing in the middle of my room. He looks around.

“Your room’s nice,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here.”

“Thanks.” I sit on my bed and pat the space beside me. “Come sit.”

Hesitantly, he sits down next to me, keeping a bit of distance.

“Did we get some of your energy out?” I ask.

“Not really,” he sighs.

“Well, we tried,” I say, shrugging. “You should at least try drinking some tea. Sleep deprivation is, like, really bad for you.”

“I’ll be fine,” he affirms.

“See, there you go using the word ‘fine’ again. Are you going to be able to get to sleep within the next few hours?”

“Well... probably not, but—”

“Do you want to get to sleep within the next few hours?”

He sighs. “Yeah...”

I stand up. “I just remembered I also got a free sample of valerian while we were out today, if you wanna try that. Your choice.”

“Valerian?”

“Yeah, it’s a flower. The roots are traditionally used as a sleep aid, and they take the root extract and put it into pills and stuff. It’s supposed to reverse the effects of caffeine, basically herbal melatonin. Never tried it, but I’ve heard really good things about it.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“You ever go down a rabbit hole on the internet when you can’t sleep?” I open the drawer in my nightstand, grabbing a little plastic packet. “This or tea?”

“I... guess I’ll try that,” he says.

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” I reply.

I sit back down next to him, a little closer this time. He reaches for the packet, but I snatch it away at the last second.

“You taking any other medications? This stuff can react with meds.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, good.” I hand him the packet. “Fushiguro—”

We lock eyes. It dawns on me then that he’s in my room, sitting on my bed, and we’re really close...

“—if I see you tomorrow morning with dark circles under your eyes, I’m gonna get you. Now, go to bed.”

“Understood,” he replies, standing up. “Thanks, by the way, for the dance lessons and for this.”

“Anytime,” I say, “and I mean that. Let me know how that stuff works.”

“I will.”

After the door shuts, I hear him sigh again.

I should probably get ready for bed myself. After all, we have school tomorrow.

Chapter Text

A little after ten in the morning, Nobara knocks on my door. I know it’s her because even by her knock, I can tell she’s excited.

When I open the door, the first thing I notice is the grin plastered on her face. The second thing I notice is that she’s carrying not one, but two cosmetic bags, which appear to be filled to the brim. I don’t even know how she was able to zip them.

She grins somehow even wider. “Ready to start getting ready?”

“Prom’s not for, like, eight or nine hours.”

“It’s better to be early than it is to be late!”

I sigh. “You’re lucky I already took an everything shower. Get in here.”

Our first order of business is an extensive skincare routine. Don’t ask me how many products we used; I tried to count, but I gave up.

The final step is a clay mask, infused with sea minerals or something. I don’t know, but Nobara says it’s good, and when it comes to this kind of stuff, I trust her.

“Which dress did you choose again?” Nobara asks as she leans over the bathroom counter, spreading the mask over her face. “I didn’t see it."

“Yes, you did,” I reply. “It was the fourth one I tried on at that second place. You know, the one with the pockets.”

“Oh,” she says slowly, “that one."

We paint our nails, then watch a movie on my laptop and eat lunch while we wait for them to dry. We can’t continue getting ready with wet nails, after all.

Nobara trusts me to do her makeup, and in turn I trust her to do my hair. We sit on the floor, near the window so the natural light will illuminate our faces.

I gently place both of my hands on her face, inspecting my work. “Oh, wow, I actually made the wings even.”

“Good,” she replies. “If you mess up my precious face, I’ll burn yours with the curling iron.”

“Well, now I’m scared!”

“You should be. Don’t test me, I’ll do it!”

By late afternoon, all of the aesthetic preparation is done. All that’s left are the dresses and accessories. Nobara retreats to her dorm to don everything, and hopefully by the time we're both ready, all four of us will be able to head to the party together.

Before I leave, I give myself a onceover in the mirror. My makeup looks perfect, as does my hair (thanks, Nobara), and my nail polish dried smoothly. More importantly, though, the dress.

It’s a lavender ballgown with a sweetheart neckline, cascading floral appliques, and a full tulle skirt. The gown has pockets, so I don’t need a clutch. I pair it with bronze jewelry, including a necklace, earrings, and an elegant headpiece reminiscent of a tiara. I’m wearing comfortable shoes, concealed by the billowing skirt.
(A/N: this is literally exactly what I wore to my prom)

With the image fresh in my mind, I exit my room.

Nobara and Itadori are already waiting in the common room, and when they see me, they grin. I can’t help but smile upon seeing them, too; they both look so good!

Nobara chose a beautiful—dare I say, sexy—wine red dress with a slit, paired with dainty gold jewelry and strappy heels. By some witchcraft, she put her own hair into an intricate updo, a few wavy strands framing her face. Her makeup, courtesy of yours truly, complements everything perfectly.

Itadori matches her so subtly, it almost looks accidental. He chose a simple black suit, but under it is a pinstripe vest and a button-down almost the same shade of red as Nobara’s dress. His hair is slightly slicked back; not too much, just enough to keep it out of his face.

“You look like a princess!” Nobara exclaims.

“And you look like a goddess!” I reply. “The gold and the red are so good together! And the pinstripe?” I turn to Itadori. “Iconic.”

“Well, thanks,” Itadori says. “Hey, where’s Fushiguro?”

“Yeah,” I agree, “I haven’t seen him all day. Here I thought I was gonna be the one holding us up.”

“Your date is still getting ready,” Nobara explains. “Aw, you guys haven’t seen each other today? It’s like a first look during a wedding!”

“We’re not getting married, Nobara."

“Yet.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously, I better be your maid of honor.”

I chuckle. “Give it, like, ten years, not ten seconds."

Fushiguro enters the lounge from the hallway, messing with one of his cuffs.

Damn.

He looks... unfairly handsome.

He chose a black well-tailored tuxedo—I know it’s a tuxedo and not a suit because the lapel is made of a shinier material than the rest of the blazer—and a dark gray button-down. Over it lays the lavender tie that matches my dress perfectly. He stops in his tracks upon noticing me, and the dumb, awestruck expression on his face ties it all together.

He approaches me slowly, blinking as if it’s the only thing that’ll subdue whatever emotion he’s feeling. “You look... really nice.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “You clean up nice yourself.”

“See what I mean?” Nobara stage-whispers to Itadori. “They’re both totally clueless.”

“Alright,” I say, ignoring Nobara’s comment, “if we’re all ready...”

I take Fushiguro’s arm.

“...then let’s go.”

It’s completely dark out by the time we leave. The party is set up in a clearing on the outskirts of campus and a veil has been lowered over it, not to keep anyone out or in, just to cancel some of the noise and add an element of privacy to the event. True to the theme, rope barriers have been set up and a crimson carpet has been rolled out on the ground, leading into the void created by the veil.

In front of it stands Mr. Gojo, his arms crossed as if he’s a bouncer. He's dressed up as well, clad in a crisp black suit over a white button-down, the top button undone.

“I’ll need to see some ID,” he says as the four of us approach the entrance.

“We’re VIP,” I reply. “Very Important Prom-attendees.”

Wordlessly, Mr. Gojo steps aside and lifts the veil as if he’s pulling back a curtain—I didn’t even know that was possible—and all four of us step inside.

I can’t help but look around. Strings of lights hang from the trees, illuminating the area just enough to see. A table of hors d'oeuvres and lemonade has been set up, surrounded by a few tables covered in red tablecloths and elegant centerpieces. What I assume is the photo section features plenty of props and decorations. Mr. Gojo really outdid himself.

The only thing I didn’t trust Mr. Gojo with was the music. I made a several-hour-long playlist of all of the party anthems I could think of, a few slower songs thrown in as well. Right now, some song by the Green Eyed Peas plays over the speakers, strobe lights illuminating the nearby dancefloor.

It’s everything I could’ve hoped for and more. It's perfect.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” Mai calls out from one of the tables set up near the banquet. She’s wearing a sparkly, strapless red gown with a slit.

“Hey, you copied me!” Nobara shouts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mai replies. “I didn’t copy you at all. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that.”

Nobara growls. “Why, you—”

“Guys, this is a formal event, please don’t fight,” Miwa warns. She’s wearing a sage green gown with off-shoulder straps, as well as a corsage.

“Cute corsage,” I say, gesturing to her flower-adorned bracelet. “You did your research, huh?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she replies, looking a little bashful. It looks like she is the only person wearing one, after all...

The second years approach us, Maki leading them. “You guys all look really nice.”

Maki chose a simple, navy blue A-line gown with a single strap. She normally has her hair pulled up into a ponytail, but tonight she’s wearing it down. She didn’t add any accessories, but she did switch out her purple glasses for thin-framed, round-lensed ones.

“Salmon,” Inumaki agrees. Panda gives two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Since everyone’s here, I should get the formalities out of the way.

“Maki’s right,” I begin, “you guys all look great. I hope you like this party. Mr. Gojo and I put a lot of planning into this, so you better enjoy it. Eat the food, drink the lemonade, dance your heart out. Do whatever feels right.”

As if on cue, some recession pop song starts playing, the kind that makes you get up and dance no matter how tired you are.

“Hey, I love this song!” I exclaim, making my way to the dancefloor and gesturing for everyone to follow me. “Come on!”

We spend the evening dancing to the upbeat music under the strobe lights, then snacking and taking pictures when we get tired. I alternate between dancing with people I know and making friendly conversation with people I don’t know.

I didn’t realize just how much I miss partying like this. I attended my old school’s prom just a few months ago, but after everything that’s happened, it feels like I’ve lived two whole lifetimes since then.

About an hour in, Nobara pulls me to the side of the banquet table. “Wanna make this party a little more fun?”

“What do you mean?”

She pours two cups of lemonade, one for her and one for me. Then, she reaches into her sparkly clutch and pulls out two tiny bottles.

Liquor? Where did she get liquor?!

“Nobara!” I exclaim, smacking her arm. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she says, pouring one bottle into her cup. “Want some?”

Well, I guess a party like this is the best place to drink...

“Oh, fuck it, alright.”

I take the other bottle from her and pour it into my own glass. I better not regret this.

I hold my cup out to her. “To this incredible party.”

“And, to you and Fushiguro finally getting the ball rolling,” she adds. She bumps her cup against mine, a silent declaration of cheers.

I roll my eyes and grin. “You’re a menace to society.”

“Well, at least I’m true to myself.”

“Yeah, I guess. We’re not friends because of who we’re pretending to be, right?”

We take a sip at the same time, and I can’t help but make a face. The liquor-mixer ratio is awful; who would ruin perfectly good lemonade with vodka, or whatever this is?

Nobara downs her lemonade quickly, exhaling harshly. “I’m gonna keep on dancing."

Oh well; I’m already committed.

By the time I finish my lemonade, I already feel dizzy. That bottle didn’t look like more than two shots; just how much liquor was actually in there?!

It takes me an embarrassingly long time to see him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Fushiguro sitting at a nearby table. No food, no lemonade, not even on his phone, just sitting and watching.

Shit, I didn’t mean to leave him alone like that.

I go over and sit down next to him, trying to cover up the fact that I’m already tipsy. “Not your kind of event?”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“You don’t seem like you’re having a lot of fun,” I explain. “You’re my date, so I wanna make sure you have a good time.”

He sighs. “I've... never been into parties.”

“Oh, well, then why’d you agree to it?” I ask. “You didn’t have to attend, you know.”

“Because...”

He looks up, as if he’s contemplating what to say.

“...because I could tell you were excited.”

He’s admitting this? Is the dim lighting giving him some confidence, or did Nobara give him a bottle too?

“When Gojo announced this event, you were smiling the whole time,” he continues. “It was the biggest I’d ever seen you smile. If I’m being honest, you looked a little insane.”

I ignore his last remark. “Aw, you agreed to do something you didn’t like just because I was excited about it? You are so sweet and considerate, Fushiguro! Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I, um... don’t think so.”

The upbeat music fades out and a slow song comes on. Shakily, I stand up and extend a hand. “Come on, let’s not let that dancing practice go to waste.”

He takes my hand, and I lead him—well, I drag him—to the dancefloor, where people have already begun to partner up.

We take our place away from the crowd and begin that sequence of steps we repeated so many times that night in my room. It’s different this time, though. Before, this event was just an idea, a concept. Now that we’re actually here, everything feels a little more aligned, a little more perfect, a little more right.

I’m not nearly sober enough to pretend I’m not admiring Fushiguro.

The once offensive strobe lights, now slowly fading between colors, illuminate his sharp features in blue, then red, then green. He didn’t do much to tame his unruly hair, but to be honest, I like the disheveled look. From this short distance, I can faintly smell his cologne: mahogany, as well as something else I can’t quite place, something so uniquely him. His hands, one entwined in my own and the other resting on my waist, are soft, gentle, as if he’s unsure whether or not he’s allowed to touch me at all. His eyes are like sapphires; only in gemstones have I ever seen such deep yet vibrant blue.

Getting lost in him almost makes me forget that we’re all doomed.

As sorcerers who face death nearly every day, we have no way of predicting how our lives will go, or more importantly, how they’ll end. Those stupid pop songs we've been dancing to all night are absolutely right: it's best to live out every day and night like it's your last, because one day, it will be.

For all I know, I could die tomorrow.

On the off chance that ends up happening, will I be happy with the legacy I leave behind? Will I be content with the life I lived? What will I regret more: the things I did or the things I didn’t do...?

He was definitely lying when he said he didn’t have a crush on you.

If both of you just ‘wait and see,’ then nothing will happen!

...

It’s like a first look during a wedding!

...Fuck it.

“Hey, Fushiguro?”

He breaks out of his trance. “Yeah?”

I sigh. “If both of us make it to 25... let’s get married.”

His eyes widen. “Huh?”

“Let’s get married,” I repeat. “We don’t know how our lives are gonna go, or when they’re gonna end. If we don’t die young, let’s leave this life behind and start a new one together. We have, like, nine or ten years to get through first, but that means we have nine or ten years to plan how we’re gonna get out of here.”

“Hey, slow down,” he says. “This is... really sudden.”

“Maybe, but I knew I’d regret it more if I didn’t say it. You’re a good guy. You’d make a great partner, you know.”

“Why... would you wanna marry me? How do you know either of us will make it that far? How do you know you won’t find someone else you like better?”

“Better than you?”

I move my hand, the one resting on his shoulder, up to cradle his face. I brush over his cheek with my thumb and smile.

“I don’t think so.”

He’s silent; too stunned to speak, I guess. He glances down at my mouth, just for a split second, but even in my state I notice it.

Now wouldn’t be a bad time...

Someone bumps into me, causing me to stumble a bit. It isn’t enough to make me fall, but Fushiguro still does his best to catch me anyway.

“Oops,” I hear Nobara call out from behind me, her voice far too condescending for that to have been an accident.

I turn my head to glare at her. She and Maki, who she’s dancing with, came all the way over here just to do that?

Turning back to Fushiguro, I grin and shake my head. “What is it with her?”

— — — — —

The party goes on long enough for the little bit of alcohol in my system to wear off. After it ends, we head back to the dorms together, all four of us first years arm-in-arm and laughing at nothing. How we still have the energy to socialize, I don’t know.

Nobara and Itadori stay in the common room, but I want to get out of this getup and into bed as soon as possible. Fushiguro figures it would be the right thing, as my date, to walk me to my room.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” I say as we stop in front of my door.

“That’s good,” he replies.

“I’ll admit something...”

I lower my voice so Nobara and Itadori can’t hear from down the hallway.

“...when I said that we should get married, I was... a little tipsy. Don’t ask. But, now that’s worn off, and I can say with completely sober confidence—”

Before I can second-guess myself, I lean up and kiss his cheek.

“—I meant it. Goodnight, Fushiguro.”

I don’t see his reaction, as I promptly enter my room and close the door behind me.

Holy shit.

That happened.

I just kissed him.

Chapter Text

We receive another mission after the school day ends.

Well, Nobara and Fushiguro receive another mission; Itadori and I get to stay behind. I guess they don’t need us to tag along?

I’m curled up on the couch in the lounge, crocheting a scarf. Normally, the TV would be on, quietly playing some show I’m only half paying attention to, but today it’s off. The silence is nice, grounding. It allows me to think.

I love hanging out with Nobara, but we spend so much time together. I’m surprised we’re not joined at the hip already. Maybe it’s a good thing that the two of us will be separated for a bit. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all.

Fushiguro will probably benefit from it as well. He seems like the type of person who needs space and time to think about a relationship before committing.

Besides, now I might actually be able to hang out with—

“Oh, hey (Y/N)!”

—Itadori.

“Hi, Itadori,” I say. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good,” he replies, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I just wish I could’ve gone on that mission with Fushiguro and Kugisaki.”

“I know!” I exclaim. “I feel so useless just sitting around while they’re out doing stuff.”

“Well, we don’t have to just sit around,” Itadori offers. “You wanna go out and get some dinner? My treat.”

I stare at him. He stares back, his friendly expression unwavering.

He’s not getting the hint.

“Like... as a date?”

“Oh, no,” he clarifies, “as friends.”

I move my project aside and stand up. “Well, in that case, sure.”

— — — — —

“So,” Itadori starts after we receive our drinks, “you and Fushiguro, huh?”

I look down into my drink, twirling the straw. “Yeah, I wish I could’ve gone out with him and Nobara just to make sure they’re both okay. I know they’ll be fine, but I still can’t help but worry about them.”

“No, no,” Itadori says, “I mean, like...”

He lowers his voice and leans over the table, towards me.

“...Are you and Fushiguro... dating?”

“Oh,” I stammer, “well, I don’t know about dating...”

He tilts his head. “Really? You’re not?”

“Did he... say we are?”

“Well, no," Itadori explains. “Fushiguro doesn’t like to talk about that kind of stuff, but... I think you should consider it. Even I can tell he really likes you. He’s different when you’re around, you know? Honestly, it’s kind of entertaining seeing him like that.”

I chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Itadori agrees. “Like after that party, when he came back from walking you to your room, he was hiding his face the whole time. What’d you do to him anyway?”

Memories of that night come flooding back. The dancing, the marriage talk...

...the kiss on the cheek.

I groan, hiding my face in my hands. “Nothing,” I explain, “just... told him I had a good time...”

“Uh huh...”

“And then... I kissed his cheek.”

“Aw, dang it,” he mutters, slumping back in his seat and crossing his arms.

“What?” I demand. “You jealous or something?”

“No, of course not...”

He fake pouts; or maybe it’s real, I can’t tell.

“...I owe Kugisaki 3,000 yen.”

I stare at him. “You bet on us?”

“She bet on you,” he explains, “and she dragged me into it.”

“You better not start enabling her,” I chuckle. “She’s already bad enough, I don’t need you on that too.”

— — — — —

Nobara and Fushiguro still haven’t come back from their mission. At exactly midnight, I text them.

Me:
where tf are you guys???

Nobara <3:
Yasohachi bridge
Probably won’t be back until morning 🙄

Fushiguro 🐕:
(Sent Location)

Me:
ok lmk if smth bad happens

Nobara <3:
Fs

Fushiguro 🐕:
Reacted 👍 to “ok lmk if smth bad happens”

There it is again: that damn thumbs-up reaction.

I look at the location Fushiguro sent. Thankfully, it’s only a short drive. At least if something happens, I can get there quickly.

— — — — —

“(Y/N)!”

Nobara bursts into my room the next morning, waking me up. I squint at her.

“I have news for you!” She exclaims in a singsong voice.

“Wait ‘til I’m awake,” I mumble, waving her away.

“Fine,” she agrees. “I’ll wait in the common room.”

Well, at least now I know she’s okay.

After I fully wake up, I go out to the lounge, and she waves me over to the couch. “You’re gonna wanna sit down for this.”

I sit next to her. “Tell me everything.”

“Okay,” she begins, “so Nitta took us to a middle school to get some information, and these two idiots recognized Fushiguro. Apparently, he went to school there and didn’t tell us! And, he beat up those two idiots while he was attending there!”

“I call bullshit.”

“No, really! And, he has a sister named Tsumiki.”

Wait, Fushiguro isn’t an only child? He definitely gave me only child vibes...

“That’s great,” I reply, “but how was the mission?”

“It was alright,” she says. “Kinda complicated. These four guys were killed by the same cursed spirit. They were marked by it years ago, but it didn’t activate until recently. The curse is supposed to live under that bridge, but we couldn’t find it. Apparently, Tsumiki was marked by the curse too, but she’s doing okay. Fushiguro seemed pretty shaken up by the news, though. You should go and comfort him when he gets back.”

“He’s not back yet?”

“No, he said he’d leave after he said goodbye to someone. He should be back pretty soon, though. Other sorcerers will be taking over the mission, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Other sorcerers are taking over? Why...? Why are they not letting students handle it?

As if on cue, Fushiguro enters.

“Hey, Fushiguro!” I exclaim. “Glad to see you’re okay! How was the mission?”

“It was fine,” he says. His voice is low, as if he’s exhausted. His eyes look dimmer than normal, but I only catch a glimpse as he walks straight down the hallway to his room.

Damn, he does seem pretty shaken up. I mean, he probably hasn’t slept since yesterday—and he’s hardly ever high-energy even when he gets adequate sleep—but this seems different.

I suppose I can let him rest a bit before I talk to him.

— — — — —

I softly knock on Fushiguro’s door. He might be sleeping, so if that’s the case, I don’t want to wake him.

“What?” he calls from the other side of the door.

I open the door and enter. He’s in his bed, scrolling on his phone. Maybe he just woke up from a nap?

“Hey,” I begin, “I just wanted to check on you. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine."

I shut the door behind me, then approach and sit down on his bed. “Do you promise?”

He looks taken aback, or maybe even a little offended, but he stays silent.

“I heard about your sister,” I continue. “I know it’s not fun to hear news like that, so if you wanna talk about anything, I’m always here.”

“It’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”

He gets up and grabs his uniform jacket.

“I’m going back to the bridge.”

“No, you’re not.”

I say it before I can stop myself.

He turns around. “Huh?”

I stand up. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” he presses. “There’s no telling when my sister will be killed by the curse. I want to exorcise it as soon as possible.”

I remain calm. “Other sorcerers are taking over this mission. You don’t have to do everything yourself, Fushiguro. Please just leave this to the more qualified sorcerers.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m strong enough?”

Now it’s my turn to be taken aback. “What? No, that’s not what I’m saying at all—”

“Are you saying you don’t believe in me? That you think I’ll die trying?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“Answer me.”

I sigh. “No, I’m not saying you’re weak, or that I don’t believe in you. I know you’re strong, but I’m telling you, this is way too dangerous. You’re acting on impulse.”

He shuts his eyes and exhales shakily, as if trying to hold back.

“And you’re not?”

I blink. “...What?”

“You’re the most impulsive person I’ve ever met, and you always get away with it. Why is it suddenly not okay when I make a decision like this?”

“Well, I don’t know—”

“I’m surprised you don’t wanna come with me. Too sensible for that?”

“I’m sensible enough to know that this is too dangerous, Fushiguro.”

“You don’t know that."

I shrug. “You’re right, I don’t. I just—returning to the scene of the crime alone is... listen, I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“A bad feeling?” He repeats. “So now you’re acting on intuition? How is acting on intuition any better than acting on impulse? My sister’s life is at stake, do you understand that?”

“Yes, of course I do, but—”

“If your sister’s life was at stake, wouldn’t you want to save her as soon as possible?”

Shit, he has a point. I would want to.

“Wouldn’t you?!”

“Okay, yes,” I admit, “but can you please just listen to me? That’s all I’m asking.”

He dons his jacket and turns to the door. “I’ve listened to you enough.”

I grab his wrist. “Fushiguro, I’m trying to—”

“Would you shut it?!” He exclaims, yanking his arm away.

I look down at the floor. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words don’t come out. I’m suddenly trembling. It’s like my body knows not to push him any further.

I guess I can’t tell him what he doesn’t want to hear.

“I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving me inside.

My lip quivers, my eyes well up, and tears roll down my cheeks before I can even try to suppress them.

Damn it.

...

Stop crying, damn it!

That wasn’t even a very heated argument. Why the fuck is it affecting me so much?

I really thought we were going in a good direction too...

I can’t do this again. I can’t lose another person I care about because of some stupid shit I said in the heat of the moment. Although, in hindsight...

I guess I knew this would happen.

I guess we were bound to argue eventually. I just didn’t think it would be so... soon.

He was already in a bad headspace because of the news about his sister. I should’ve known better than to provoke him.

I’m in control, right? I can still salvage this...

...right?

Well, I can only do that if he stays alive, if he doesn’t get killed.

If that happens, I know I’ll blame myself. I know I’ll take responsibility for it. I’ll tell myself that maybe I should’ve gone after him quicker, tried harder to convince him not to go, not even spoken to him at all.

Maybe I can break the cycle. Maybe this time, I can actually try to fix it.

Besides, every second I spend here wallowing in self-pity is another second he spends fighting alone.

I wipe my eyes. Taking a shaky breath, I open the door and step out.

Nobara and Itadori sit in the kitchen, eating some sort of pre-prepared dinner.

“Where’s Fushiguro?” I ask them, trying not to let my voice give anything away. I know the answer, I just want to find out what he told them.

“He said he was going on a walk,” Itadori says.

“He lied,” I explain. “He’s going back to the bridge.”

I grab my car keys from the nearby table.

“Let’s follow him.”

They both just stare at me, neither of them budging from their seats. I throw up my hands.

“Come on,” I press, “before that dumbass gets himself killed.”

— — — — —

I pull up to the side of the bridge just in time to see Fushiguro making his way under it. He doesn’t notice us, thankfully.

It’s a long way down into the canyon beneath the bridge. It looks like there used to be a river here, but it’s dried up.

Nobara, Itadori, and I sneak downhill after Fushiguro, finally catching up to him at the riverbed. He looks up at the moon. How has he still not noticed us?

Nobara breaks the silence. “You really don’t tell us enough about yourself.”

“Sure don’t,” Itadori agrees.

“It’d benefit you to confide in us, you know,” I add.

Fushiguro sighs, clearly annoyed that we decided to follow him. He doesn’t turn around.

Nobara puts her hand on her hip. “If you didn’t notice us until now, you’re seriously lost in space."

“We’re not saying you have to tell us everything,” Itadori begins, “but at least let us help. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Despite what you tell yourself, we do still care about you,” I say.

Fushiguro is silent for a moment. Then, he sighs, and his tense shoulders drop a bit.

“Tsumiki... is still bedridden.”

What...? I thought she was “doing okay!”

“The curse of the Yasohachi Bridge only appears to its victims,” Fushiguro continues. “Since she can’t communicate herself, I have no idea when she’ll be killed by the curse, so I want to exorcise it right away. But, now that our mission’s danger level has increased—”

“Okay, jeez, we get it now,” Nobara interrupts.

“You should’ve just told us that from the start,” Itadori adds.

The two of them start to walk away, leaving me alone with Fushiguro. He finally turns around, and when he sees me, his expression shifts.

“Listen,” he starts, “I was—”

“Save it for later,” I interrupt. “I’m not mad at you. Besides, you said you wanted to exorcise that thing right away, right? With all four of us here...”

I hold out my hand to him as an invitation.

“...I think we might stand a chance.”

Hesitantly, he reaches for my hand. I close the gap, grabbing his hand and squeezing lightly.

I give him a soft, affirming smile. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

Chapter Text

All four of us step across the creek. The ground breaks, a unique signal that we’ve crossed into the curse’s barrier. The curse pops out of a hole in the ground, vocalizing, as if we’ve entered its house uninvited.

I suppose we have, in a way.

Nobara takes out her hammer. “I’m looking forward to this.”

Something’s coming up behind us.

I conjure a large shield behind the four of us; I’ve gotten a lot better over the past couple of months about making that a force of habit. Whatever it is collides with the shield and rolls backwards.

Then, it speaks, its voice distorted:

“What’s this? Someone beat me here?”

It’s... another curse...? And the fact that it can speak means it’s probably special-grade...!

Wow, good thing we followed Fushiguro here.

“You three focus on that first one,” Itadori says. Cursed energy flares in his hands, casting an unsettling shadow on his face. “I’ll exorcise this one.”

With that, the battle begins.

Nobara, Fushiguro and I essentially play a game of whack-a-mole with the curse. It splits into dozens of bodies and pops out of several holes in the ground simultaneously, and we have to attack them quickly enough to kill them.

Nobara fires her nails with perfect precision. Fushiguro pulls a sword out of somewhere and slices the moles in half. I do the same with a pair of feather-knives.

We pause for a moment, allowing me to stand back and watch Itadori. I’ve never seen him in combat before, not even at the exchange event last month. His fighting style is very... traditional, but his speed, strength, and agility are almost superhuman.

“We’ll just wipe all of them out,” Fushiguro explains. “It’s unlikely to retaliate.”

“Its technique covers a large area,” Nobara adds, “so its main body doesn’t have much offense.”

“That makes sense,” I say. “Its energy is spread out between marking victims and keeping a barrier up, so of course it doesn’t have a lot of energy left for fighting. This should be easy!”

Suddenly, Nobara makes a sound of distress. A human-like arm reaches through the barrier and grabs her, slowly pulling her outside.

There’s another one?!

“Nobara!” I exclaim.

“I’ll be fine,” she affirms, pointing at us. Only her arm is visible now. “You just whack the mole.”

Then, she’s pulled out of the barrier entirely.

The curse Itadori was fighting runs after her, saying something about its “older brother.”

Itadori runs up to the hole in the barrier. “Should I just let it go?”

“No,” Fushiguro says, “go after it. Kugisaki and that thing both went outside the barrier. She might be going up against something even more dangerous than we assumed. Go save Kugisaki!”

“Alright,” Itadori says, “but if things go bad here, you two follow us and get out!”

With that, Itadori goes through the hole in the barrier and it closes off completely.

I look over at Fushiguro. “Well,” I muse, “let’s keep whacking the mole.”

We continue slicing through each and every one of the moles, cutting them down to just one.

He tries to slice the last one, but it ducks and emerges from another hole in the ground, one closer to me. I try to slice it myself, but something gets to it first: a black-and-white wolf. Its claws slice through the mole, finishing the job. Fushiguro doesn’t seem fazed at all by its appearance; maybe it’s some sort of evolution of his other dog.

“That’s the last of them,” Fushiguro sighs.

I look around. “No, it’s not.”

“Huh?” He demands. “How do you know?”

“If we fully exorcised it, the barrier would have collapsed,” I explain. “There’s at least one more hiding somewhere.”

As if on cue, something drops down from a large hole in the ceiling. It stands up, letting out a small giggle.

It’s the most human-looking curse I’ve ever seen, even more so than the one at the cemetery. It’s almost... uncanny.

It doesn’t attack right away, it just stares at us, analyzing with all four of its eyes.

Wait, four eyes and human-like...

“This curse probably absorbed one of Sukuna’s fingers,” Fushiguro explains. “I’ve fought one that looks just like it before, but this one’s probably several degrees—”

The curse spits out a wad of golden energy and slingshots it at us. It’s so fast that I can just barely block it with a thin shield. Just the ricochet is enough to disrupt the ground around us, shatter my shield, and break Fushiguro’s blade. By some miracle, neither of us are injured.

What the fuck?!

“—stronger?” I offer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, tossing the broken sword away.

I conjure a feather-sword, one that looks just like his, and toss it to him. “I’ll be your defense if you be my offense.”

He catches the weapon and takes a stance. “Deal.”

In an instant, the curse appears behind us. Damn, this curse is fast. Fushiguro’s evolved dog quickly snatches us away before the curse can land its attack.

Fushiguro tries to summon another creature, but the curse appears in front of him again. Before I can react—or even begin to process it—the curse lands a devastating punch, sending him flying into the wall. His head hits the rocks and blood splatters behind him. He slumps over, unconscious, and his dog disappears. His grip on the sword loosens and it falls onto the ground next to him with a soft clatter. As the curse turns its attention to me, it dawns on me that in this moment...

I’m completely alone.

Shit.

I can’t do this by myself.

This thing is too strong.

I can’t fight it.

I can’t.

I promised to be his defense, and I couldn’t even do that.

I need to get out of here.

But I can’t just leave him there.

I have to do something.

Do something.

Damn it, do something!

Shit, the curse’s presence is messing with my resolve. I need help.

“...Jericho?”

My voice comes out much meeker than I want it to. Despite that, Jericho appears beside me, looking attentive and perhaps even a little concerned.

“Help me,” I whisper, “please.”

In a second, his feathers morph into the armor I’m so familiar with. I sigh; I can think a little more clearly now.

I’ve gotten some of my confidence back.

“I have to be honest, I’m a little offended,” I say to the curse, my voice still faltering. “You targeted him because you assumed he was stronger, didn’t you?”

The curse lets out a hollow, distorted sound, almost like a laugh, but not quite. It still has yet to speak, but can it understand me...?

“You know what happens when you assume—”

I raise a feather-knife to its neck and sneer.

“—you make an ass of you and me.”

I slice its neck at a bizarre velocity. It barely cuts through.

Shit, that’s not going to work.

It tries to slingshot something at me again, and I dodge it, shielding myself as an extra precaution. Maybe I'll just stop the problem at the source.

Turn the situation into something I can work with.

I slice its fingers so it can't attack. It regenerates them, and I slice them again. This won't exorcise it, but it'll have to work until I come up with something better.

“Get out of here...”

I whip my head around. Fushiguro had woken up at some point. His arms are outstretched, his hands clenched into fists. It looks like he’s trying to summon one of his Shikigami, but it’s not one I’ve ever seen...

“...for your own safety.”

I rush over to him. “You’re injured, and I’m not. You’re the one who needs to get out of here.”

“No,” he presses, standing up. “I can exorcise this curse myself. You just get out of this barrier.”

“Wha—no!” I exclaim. “I’m not leaving you here alone with that!”

He weakly shoves me away. “I told you, I can do it myself.”

“We’re finishing it off together,” I argue. “That’s my final offer.”

“(Y/N)...”

He grips my shoulders, and I gasp. That’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name...

“...Save yourself. Go help Itadori and Kugisaki.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t say anything. I’m out of arguments. Besides, I really don’t want to start something again.

“Fine, but those better not be your last words to me, Fushiguro!” I exclaim, making my way to the edge of the barrier. “If you die here, I’ll bring you back and kill you myself!”

He doesn’t respond. He’s already zeroed in on the curse, making another hand sign I’ve never seen before.

That better not be his goodbye.

I push through the edge of the barrier, returning to the nighttime atmosphere.

...

It’s quiet.

It’s eerily quiet.

Where are Nobara and Itadori?

They exited the barrier at the same place I did, so where the hell did they go?

I sit down, leaning against the rocks.

Shit, I feel so...

...Useless.

What have I even done? Sure, I whacked a few of the moles, and I cut up that special-grade a little bit, but outside of that, what have I accomplished?

I mean, of course I couldn’t beat a special-grade by myself, but...

...Fushiguro didn’t even let me help him.

I start mentally counting down seconds. There are two outcomes to this: either Fushiguro wins and the barrier comes down, or he loses and the barrier stays up. If that barrier doesn’t come down within one minute, I’m going back in, getting him out of there, and leaving this to someone more qualified.

Fifty-seven.

I know Fushiguro is strong and experienced, but the last time he fought a special-grade, he had help. Not to mention, it got away before anyone could exorcise it.

Forty-nine.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared before.

The truth is...

Forty-four.

...I’m terrified.

It’s not just a simple bout of anxiety, the familiar weight in the pit of your stomach that you get before a doctor’s appointment or a job interview. It’s guttural, primal...

...the closest I’ve ever felt to death.

Thirty-five.

It comes from somewhere so deep within me that it doesn’t show itself externally. It’s pure, unbridled terror, and it’s all internal.

That makes it so much worse.

Twenty-eight.

It’s like the barrier and I are two north-polar magnets. Some invisible force is pushing us apart. Every internal survival instinct, every fiber of my being, is screaming at me not to even go near that barrier. Even so, against the mental tug-of-war and physical anxiety-induced nausea, I force myself to stand.

Nineteen.

The barrier collapses. Fushiguro appears, kneeling on the ground, slightly slumped over.

Thank fucking goodness.

“Fushiguro!” I call out, running to him. He looks even more beaten up than he did just a minute or two ago. Did he really just beat that special-grade?!

“Are you okay?” I ask, mostly to make sure he can still think straight.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I’m tired. The other guys, where’d they go?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, “but I’m sure they’re fine. Hey...”

I kneel in front of him. I delicately place my fingers under his chin, coaxing him to look up at me. My other hand lands on his shoulder.

“...I'm more worried about you right now. What happened in there? You look really beat up, what the hell did you do to that thing?”

He looks up at me, his eyes half-lidded, and musters a weak smile. It might just be the moonlight, but he looks paler than usual. Just how much blood did he lose?

“...Domain Expansion.”

My jaw drops. “You did? That’s incredible!”

“My head hurts,” he groans, “keep it down.”

“Sorry,” I reply, quieter. “You hit the wall pretty hard, so that’s to be expected.”

He leans down a bit and goes somehow paler. “Think I’m gonna be sick.”

I point to the side. “Be sick that way, please, if you’re gonna be sick.”

He leans to the side and doubles over. I place a hand on his back, rubbing circles that I can only hope are comforting as he retches, and I catch him before he collapses.

“It’s alright,” I affirm. “You might have gotten a concussion, so it makes sense that you’re nauseous. I can’t do anything about that, unfortunately, but I can get you cleaned up a bit. You still with me?”

His voice is strained. “Yeah.”

“Good. Here, rest your head in my lap. It's probably more comfortable than the ground.”

As he adjusts, I reach into my small crossbody bag. What a convenient coincidence that I always carry basic first aid supplies. I knew they'd come in handy someday.

I start wiping some of the blood off his face. “Are you sure you’re alright? Is your head the only thing that’s injured?”

“You worry like a wife,” he remarks. “Maybe we should get married.”

“Wow, you hit your head harder than I thought, Fushiguro,” I snap back. “You’re delusional.”

“Hey, don’t call me that.”

“Okay, sorry, you’re not delusional.”

“No, no, not that.”

“...What are you talking about?”

He slowly, shakily, raises a hand up to my face. It’s cold, too cold. There’s a bittersweetness clouded in his half-lidded eyes, some concoction of annoyance and adoration. Something’s emboldened him; in his foggy mental state, he’s letting down his guard, not bothering to hold back.

His speech is slurred from exhaustion. “We should be on first-name basis... if we’re gonna get married.”

His hand drops and his eyes flutter shut.

No, he can’t do that; if he has a concussion, he has to stay conscious!

“Fushi—”

No, wait.

“Megumi?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Megumi, don’t you dare pass out on me again!”

His breathing becomes slow and rhythmic. When my fingers brush over his lashes, they flutter just a bit. That wouldn’t have happened if he was completely unconscious.

Did he fall asleep...?

I sigh. “I guess I can let you rest.”

Something gently nudges the back of my head. When I turn my head, a white beak enters my line of sight.

Oh, yeah, I completely forgot about Jericho. Oops.

“You can rest too, Jericho,” I say. “Thank you for your help.”

With that, Jericho takes back his feathers and disappears.

Megumi doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. Once his face is cleaned up, I turn my attention to whatever it is that he’s holding.

It’s hard to see under the moonlight, so I pick it up and shine my phone’s flashlight on it. Upon seeing what it is, I nearly throw it.

A severed, rotted finger?!

No... this must be one of Sukuna’s fingers, the one that the curse ingested, maybe?

Gross. How did Itadori swallow two of these things?

Apparently, these are really valuable; I place it in my bag for temporary safekeeping.

Well, now I have a severed finger in my bag... what a crazy life I live now.

I look back down at Megumi. I’ve never seen him like this; he looks so... peaceful.

I delicately run a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. Aside from Mr. Gojo, Megumi is the strongest person I know, and... well, here he is, asleep in my lap.

“Megumi, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m gonna talk anyway.”

He doesn’t respond; he doesn’t even move. I sigh.

“Earlier, you said the mission’s danger level increased. So, I was right when I said this was dangerous, and you didn’t listen to me... but I’m sure you’re already aware of all that, so I won’t rub it in.”

His hair fell back into his face at some point. I brush it out of the way again.

“When I first met you, I thought you were this chill, level-headed guy, the group’s voice of reason, you know? But, now that we’re closer, I see...”

I give him a stern look, even though I know he can’t see it.

“...you’re an impulsive little shit.”

He definitely would’ve responded to that if he was awake.

“I mean, on one hand, you’re courageous. You’re so quick to step up to the front lines whenever something dangerous happens. That’s good. We need more people like you.

“On the other hand, though... courage isn’t an absence of fear. It’s just... pushing through the fear that’s already there. You don’t seem afraid at all, so maybe ‘courageous’ was the wrong word. Maybe the word I should’ve used is ‘reckless.’

“You prefer to do things yourself, and I don’t blame you. Independence is good, but... only in moderation. If you try to do everything yourself, there are bound to be some things that don’t work out. That’s why I wanted you to stay home. I was scared that your refusal to ask for help would’ve... gotten you killed.”

I brush my thumb over his cheek.

“Megumi, I care about you. A lot. Why else do you think I’m still here with you?”

He hasn’t moved at all since he fell asleep. He must have been insanely tired.

Would he have fallen asleep in anyone else’s presence?

If Nobara or Itadori was here instead of me, would he have tried to fight the fatigue? Would he have let either of them take care of him like this?

Maybe Itadori was right.

Megumi really is a different person when I’m around.

Maybe he does really like me.

Chapter Text

Finally, Nobara and Itadori make their way under the bridge, approaching me and Megumi.

“(Y/N), look at you!” Nobara teases.

“Fushiguro, I can’t believe you got to lay in a woman’s lap before I did!” Itadori exclaims.

“Shut up!” I whisper-yell, bringing a finger to my lips. “Megumi’s sleeping!”

It’s too late; Megumi stirs and his eyes open. “Oh, you’re back. Glad you’re safe.” He sits up and adjusts his hair that I so expertly brushed out of his face a little while ago. “Let’s go ahead and contact Nitta. We need to seal this finger from cursed spirits—”

He looks at me, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“—where’s the finger?”

“Don’t worry, I have it.” I gesture to my bag. “It’s in here.”

“Oh, should I eat it?” Itadori offers.

“It’s not some midnight snack!” Nobara snaps.

“Don’t eat it,” Megumi presses, “but we will hand it over to you, since you have the most energy.”

That’s my cue. I stand up and take the finger out of my bag, very eager to hand it over to someone else. Itadori extends his hand, reaching for it.

“I’ll say it once more,” Megumi says, “do not eat it.”

Almost immediately—almost spitefully—a mouth manifests on Itadori’s palm and promptly swallows the finger.

Itadori and I share a dumbfounded expression. What the hell was that...?

Itadori recoils and claws at his jacket, a few faint lines appearing on his face.

“He said don’t eat it!” Nobara exclaims.

“I’m not the one who ate it, he is!” Itadori looks down at his now normal hand. “Sukuna didn’t even warn me this time, either...”

The markings on Itadori’s face disappear so quickly, I would think I imagined them if I didn’t know better. That’s the manifestation of Sukuna?!

“Hey, what happened to your arm, Nobara?” I ask.

I just noticed: the left sleeve of her jacket got torn off, revealing some sort of rash up her entire arm.

“Oh, this?” She muses. “I just got a little poisoned is all.”

“There you are, you four little jerks!”

We look up. Ms. Nitta leans over the top of the bridge, shaking her fist at us, clearly furious. “What have you been doing all this time? Why haven’t you been answering my calls? What’s the big idea?!”

We probably shouldn’t keep her waiting.

“Alright,” Itadori says, “let’s go.”

“I’m hungry,” Nobara mutters. “I wonder if there’s a Splendid Sushi around here.”

“Splendid Sushi’s bullet train was awesome, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

I extend a hand and help Megumi stand. He sways a little too much.

“You lost a lot of blood,” I explain, “so you’re probably a little lightheaded. Here—”

I lift his arm and drape it over my shoulders, wrapping an arm around his waist for additional support.

“—lean on me. Don’t you dare lock your knees, I don’t want you passing out on me again.”

We fall several paces behind Nobara and Itadori, and he sighs. “Why are you doing all of this?”

“Because I care about you.”

He stays silent, probably a little surprised at the bluntness of my reply. I guess that means he didn't hear my speech earlier.

“What I said earlier still stands,” I add. “You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Oh, yeah, that. About that, I... wanted to say that I’m sorry. You know, for snapping. I know you said you’re not mad at me, but... are you sure?”

As a substitute for a hug, I grip his waist a little tighter. “Yes, I'm sure. I know you’re going through a lot right now. I understand.”

By the time we get to Ms. Nitta’s car and she drives us out of the area, Megumi is struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Still tired?” I ask.

“A little,” he admits.

“You can rest on my shoulder if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey, what do I always say?”

He stares at me, though it’s more of a squint due to his heavy eyelids. “I dunno. You say a lot.”

I ignore that. “I always say that I offered, remember? You can’t even keep your eyes open, come here.”

He gives in, resting his head on my shoulder and adjusting to be more comfortable. I wrap an arm around his shoulders, leaning my head against his and closing my eyes. We stay like that for a few minutes...

...until the sound of a camera shutter wakes me up. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.

I open my eyes. Nobara, who’s sitting in the front seat, turns back to face us. She’s holding her phone out, snapping pictures of me and Megumi.

Good thing that didn’t wake Megumi up; he probably would’ve snatched the phone right out of her hands and deleted the photos himself. Me, though...

“Send those to me,” I whisper.

“You got it,” she whispers back.

“Oh, that reminds me—”

Itadori takes out his wallet and reluctantly shoves a few bills into Nobara’s hands.

“—here.”

“What’s this?”

Itadori gestures to the bills. “Just what it looks like, 3,000 yen.”

I can practically see the gears turning in Nobara’s head as she tries to understand why the hell Itadori just handed her money. As soon as it clicks, Ms. Nitta interrupts. “Hey, whose car was that, parked on the bridge?”

Oh. Oops.

“Oh, that was mine,” I say, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb Megumi. “I have my keys, we can come back for her tomorrow.”

— — — — —

All four of us have been recommended to be promoted to first-grade sorcerers, which, frankly, is crazy.

I can’t deny it’s an incredible accomplishment. As far as I know, first-grade is the highest ranking in the sorcery hierarchy!

Of course, we aren’t first-grade yet; we have to go out on a mission or two before we’re promoted, and even then we'll only be semi-first-grade. Despite that, the four of us go shopping as a celebration. Well, Nobara and I do most of the shopping; Itadori and Megumi mostly just follow us around.

“You alright?” I ask Itadori, who struggles to hold several bags. Nobara dubbed him our bag-holder, and when it comes to anything related to shopping, it’s pointless to argue with her.

“I just think you guys are buying way too much stuff,” Itadori explains.

“Half of that is yours, isn’t it?” Nobara remarks.

“No, only one is mine!” Itadori fumbles with one of my bags, nearly dropping the shoe box inside.

Nobara leans over him, a scary expression on her face. “You drop even one of those bags, and I’ll kill you.”

“Nobara, it’s fine,” I assure her. “I don’t care if he drops my stuff. I didn’t buy anything breakable, and as long as it’s in the bag, it won’t touch the ground and get all dirty.”

A white blouse Nobara bought earlier falls out of its bag and floats down to the ground.

Wow, way to jinx it.

Nobara immediately punches Itadori in the face. “I just told you that if you drop even one, you’re dead!”

“I’m sorry, it was an accident,” Itadori exclaims, “you just have too many bags!”

Nobara grabs him by the collar. “If any of our stuff gets damaged, you’re going to pay! Is this job too hard for you? Just carry the damn bags, got it?!”

“Guys, quiet down!” I call out.

Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, I back up and join Megumi, who looks somehow even more embarrassed to be associated with them.

“These guys are insane,” I muse. “I’m glad we have you as a voice of reason.”

“Aren’t you somewhat of a voice of reason too?” He asks.

“No, no, I’m as bad as they are,” I explain, grinning. “I’m just better at hiding it.”

Megumi’s phone vibrates. I don’t see who it is before he answers the call. I hope whoever it is doesn’t hear Nobara and Itadori yelling in the background; they’re starting to attract a crowd!

Nobara stops yelling and looks over at us. “What?”

“Gojo says to come in,” Megumi explains, waving his phone. “It’s urgent.”

“What for?” Nobara asks.

“An assignment. He said it was top secret.”

Nobara groans. “But we just finished doing a big mission for him...”

“I know,” I add. “Can’t he let us finish our little break? We haven’t even stopped at Tepid Topic yet, I’m gonna miss the sale!”

“Well, if Gojo’s telling us it’s top secret,” Itadori chimes in, “then it must be big.”

“He says that a lot,” Nobara explains.

“Only every time,” Megumi adds.

“Yeah, but so what?” Itadori says, turning around and walking in the other direction. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, whatever,” I add, following him. “I guess the sale can wait.”

— — — — —

By the time we get to Mr. Gojo’s office, he’s fallen asleep in his chair, his arms crossed and his head tipped back. I know we took a while to get back to campus, but I didn't think we took that long.

“So, even teachers sleep, huh?” Itadori asks.

“Of course he does,” Nobara replies. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

“No, I get it,” I add. “I can’t imagine him doing anything other than being a teacher.”

“Hey, Gojo,” Megumi calls out.

Mr. Gojo lifts his blindfold just a bit, revealing one of his striking blue eyes.

“Oh, he’s awake!” Itadori exclaims.

“Please don’t fall asleep after you summon us,” Megumi says.

Nobara points. “Hey, that’s one of those expensive chairs, isn’t it?”

Mr. Gojo stands up from his chair, and Nobara immediately sits down and gets comfortable.

“Hey, no fair, it was my turn!” Itadori exclaims.

“You snooze, you lose,” Nobara replies. “It’s so comfy. Try it, (Y/N)!”

She grabs my arm and pulls me down onto the chair with her. Damn, it is comfy.

“Why’d you let her sit with you?” Itadori demands. “It’s my turn next, right?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, “next.”

Nobara crosses her legs and places her hands behind her head in a gesture of relaxation. “I could sit here all day.”

“I know,” I agree. “I don’t blame him, I’d fall asleep in this chair too!”

“You were right,” Megumi remarks from above me, “you are just as bad as them.”

“Hey, you like it,” I snap back. “You wouldn’t keep me around if you didn’t.”

He only sighs and rolls his eyes in response.

Mr. Gojo chuckles.

“What are you laughing about?” Megumi asks.

Mr. Gojo sighs, still turned away from us. “Nothing.”

— — — — —

I return to my room and practically fall onto my bed. The weight of this whole promotion thing, as impressive as it may be, is kind of emotionally taxing.

First-grade...

Sorcerers are assigned rankings based on the grade of curse they can beat, not the grade of curse they are equal to. The title implies that I could singlehandedly exorcise a first-grade cursed spirit. As much as I hate to admit it...

...I don’t know if that’s true.

Of course, if someone thought I was talented enough to be promoted, I couldn’t reject it. Come to think of it, who recommended us? Who recommended me...?

It couldn’t have been someone who’s seen me fight.

Nobara and Itadori each exorcised a special-grade. Megumi and I worked together to exorcise a third, but he did most of the damage and actually exorcised the thing. In the grand scheme of things, I barely did anything. Sure, I took down a second-grade in one blow a couple of months ago, but that’s entirely different.

Well, I guess that would put me at second-grade...

No, I should stop thinking about it. If the higher-ups didn’t think I was ready, they would’ve rejected it right away. Besides, the longer I dwell on it, the less confident I’ll become, and that’s not good.

I make my way out to the lounge as Itadori pours popcorn into a few bowls. “Hey, (Y/N),” he says, “we’re gonna watch a movie. Do you wanna pick?”

“You’re... actually letting me pick the movie?” I ask.

He holds a bowl out to me. “Well, yeah. It’s your turn, right?”

Nobara turns her head to look at me from the couch, invested in whatever my decision will be. Megumi doesn’t.

“Alright, well,” I begin, “I hope you’re okay with something R-rated, and I hope you like foreign 80s movies...”

I take the bowl from him. I head over to the couch, taking a seat in between Nobara and Megumi.

“...because we’re watching Girl From the Valley.”

Chapter Text

We don’t have school for the next week as a mid-year break. The break is shorter than two weeks, so I don’t have to fly back home to see my parents. As much as I want to see my family and friends in person again, I do not want to have to spend several hours sitting in a plane just to do so.

The four of us go into the city to waste some time.

“I think I’ll go see a movie,” Itadori says. “Kugisaki? (Y/N)?”

“I’m not really feeling a movie right now,” I reply. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, too early to see a movie for me,” Nobara adds. “I think I’ll go shopping.”

“Now that’s more like it!” I exclaim. “I’m coming with you.”

Megumi sighs. “You guys have too much energy. I think I’ll go home.”

He makes his way to Mr. Ijichi’s car, and they drive away. Nobara and I start to walk away from Itadori, up a flight of stairs.

“You sure you don’t wanna see a movie? My treat!”

Nobara turns back to Itadori mid-step. “What are you going to see?”

“Human Earthworm 4!” Itadori exclaims.

“You’re going alone,” Nobara replies. “We don’t wanna see some worm-o man doing anything, do we, (Y/N)?”

I grimace. “Yeah, I’m not into that gory stuff.”

“He’s a human earthworm,” Itadori mutters dejectedly, “and I’ll have you know it’s actually a love story!”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Nobara replies. “Have fun, we’re going shopping for a while.” She turns away, continuing to walk up the flight of stairs.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us?” I ask Itadori.

Itadori makes a face. “I just told you I’m going to the movies!”

I shrug. “Alright, enjoy your worm guy movie.” I turn around, quickly ascending the stairs to catch up with Nobara. “So, where are we gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she replies. “Maybe... your favorite Nouboutin outlet?”

“I don’t really feel like trying on shoes,” I explain, “and I think that’s pretty far away from here anyway. I do wanna get some cute warmer clothes, though. I somehow forgot to bring anything good for Autumn from back home.”

We stop in front of a cafe.

“Well,” I muse, “I suppose we could start with a little treat.”

— — — — —

“Oh, let’s go to the grocery store really quick too,” I say. “The entire vitamins section is on sale, so I wanna get some valerian.”

“Valerian?” Nobara takes a sip of her bubble tea. “What’s that?”

“Herbal melatonin, basically,” I explain.

“Interesting. I didn’t know you took that.”

“I don’t. I make Megumi take it when he can’t sleep.”

She glances over at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. It works really well for him. For someone who likes getting up so early, you’d think he’d be less of a night owl, but apparently not.”

She chuckles. “You two seriously need to get married.”

I sigh. “You’re not giving up until you see a ring on my finger, are you?”

“Precisely, and it better be an expensive one, too! Nothing but the finest for you, of course.”

“Hey, I don’t want something fancy or overly traditional. I don’t actually care how big the diamond is or how much the ring costs. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, though, right?”

“Um... excuse me!” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind us.

We turn around. A girl about our age stands in front of us, so close she towers over us. “You guys were with Itadori earlier, weren’t you?”

Nobara looks dumbfounded. “Come again?”

I take a gamble, assuming that her reasons for asking us about Itadori aren’t sinister. “Yeah, we were. Do you know him?”

We enter a restaurant as the girl, who introduces herself as Yuko Ozawa, explains that she knows Itadori from middle school. Okay, so I was probably right about her intentions; thank goodness.

She shows us her phone, a picture pulled up on the screen. “This is what I looked like at our middle school graduation ceremony.”

Wow. If the girl in that photo really is her, she’s lost a lot of weight.

“Wow, you look really different,” I say.

“That was only six months ago!” Nobara exclaims. “What happened to you?”

Yuko smiles bashfully. “I guess I’ve grown about 15 centimeters since graduation. Plus, I guess, the stress of moving to Tokyo and changing environments.”

The three of us sit down at a booth as Yuko continues her story. “I wanted to ask for Itadori’s phone number at graduation, but I already knew that we were moving to Tokyo. When I saw him with you earlier, I thought maybe with the way I look now, I might...”

She trails off.

Something clicks in Nobara’s mind. “Wait... you mean it’s like that, right?!”

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Yuko confirms, “it’s like that!”

“Oh no,” I add, “it’s like that?”

Nobara seems to know exactly what to do. She sends her location to Mr. Ijichi, then calls him and asks him to drop Megumi off at the restaurant.

“Someone who knows Itadori pretty well is on his way here right now,” Nobara explains to Yuko. “I think we should talk to him about it first.”

“And... you guys?” Yuko asks. “I mean, if you’re also interested in Itadori, then...”

“No,” Nobara replies. “If hell froze over and danced the Lambada, still no.”

“Yeah, no, I only see him as a friend,” I add, “and I’m, like, 98% sure he feels the same way.”

I see why Nobara liked playing matchmaker with me and Megumi. This is fun as hell. I can hardly sit still.

After a couple of minutes, the restaurant’s welcome bell sounds and Megumi approaches our table. “Okay, what’s the big emergency?”

I look up at him and grin. "Hi, Megumi!"

He squints at me. "What are you so excited about?"

“Hey there, Fushiguro,” Nobara says. “Does Itadori have a girlfriend?”

“Huh?”

“This is Yuko Ozawa,” Nobara explains, gesturing to Yuko. “She knows Itadori from middle school, if you know what I mean.”

Megumi’s eyes widen. “Oh, so it’s like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nobara confirms, “totally like that.”

“So, spill,” I add. “Girlfriend or no girlfriend?”

Megumi sits down next to me, the three of us squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder in the booth. “He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“You sure?” Nobara asks.

“When he had to transfer to Tokyo, he didn’t seem particularly upset about it,” Megumi explains. “He also has a pinup poster hanging in his room. Anyone with a girlfriend wouldn’t have something like that hanging up, because she would hate it.”

He pauses to take a sip of his coffee.

Nobara stares at him, judging. “Are you the type to drink coffee black only when women are around so you can show off?”

“You seem to know a lot about having a girlfriend too,” I add, leaning into him slightly. “Who are you trying to impress, Megumi?”

He nearly chokes on his coffee. “Did you call me here to ask me about this or to ridicule me? I’m not trying to impress anyone, and I always drink it black.”

“Ew,” I remark, “how do you even enjoy that?”

“You’re one to talk,” he snaps back. “You’re practically drinking a glass of sugar.”

“Hey, where I’m from, Mr. Pepper is a delicacy.”

“By the way,” Yuko adds, ignoring our antics, “do you happen to know what his type is?”

I look over at Megumi, who sighs.

“I think he might’ve mentioned that he likes tall girls.”

Yuko, Nobara and I share a look. Yuko’s a tall girl!

“You have a real shot!” Nobara exclaims, whipping out her phone. “I’ll text Itadori now!”

Nobara sends Itadori her location and seemingly no explanation. A few seconds later, the restaurant’s welcome bell chimes again.

“What the—? Fushiguro’s here too?” Itadori exclaims.

“That was fast!” Nobara remarks.

“Did you teleport here?” I demand.

Itadori looks over at Yuko. Uh oh, will he recognize her after she changed so much...?

Nobara seems to have the same thought process I did. “Itadori,” she blurts out, “this girl is—”

“Wait a second,” Itadori interrupts, “you're Ozawa. What are you doing here? What a coincidence!”

— — — — —

Itadori walks Yuko to the train station while they catch up. Megumi, Nobara and I start making our way back to campus.

“Can’t tell how it went,” Megumi says. “They could’ve at least exchanged numbers.”

“I gave his phone number to her,” Nobara replies, “so it should be okay. More importantly, I’ve realized my own feelings—”

A look of disdain overtakes Nobara’s face.

“—the thought that Itadori might land a girlfriend before I’m able to get a boyfriend really pisses me off to no end!”

“Right?” I exclaim. “Like, I’ve been there, done that, but still, I wouldn’t expect him to be first!”

“Wha—? You’ve had a boyfriend?!” Nobara and Megumi demand in sync.

“Yeah—well, kind of,” I explain, “it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later, Nobara. We can have another sleepover tonight, if you want to.”

“Sure,” Nobara affirms. “You know I’d never say no.”

“Sorry for the wait!” Itadori exclaims, jumping in between me and Nobara.

“You need to walk behind me,” she replies. “Can’t you see we’re talking?”

Megumi hands Itadori his bag full of goodies. “Here.”

“Oh, thank you,” Itadori replies.

“Here,” Nobara adds, handing him her shopping bags. “And, while you’re at it...”

“While I’m at what?” Itadori asks. Nobara interrupts him by grabbing my bags and handing them to him as well.

“...I know you’re the type of gentleman who’d feel bad making ladies carry them.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

I look up at the sky. The sun is setting and the sky is yellow, a much prettier shade than that veil at the exchange event.

Maybe I could handle a shorter flight.

“While it’s still warm out, guys,” I begin, “I think we should go to the beach. Going down to Okinawa for a couple days would be a nice vacation, right?”

“Good idea!” Nobara agrees. “Let’s go swimsuit shopping tomorrow.”

“I’m down for the beach,” Itadori affirms. “Fushiguro?”

Megumi sighs. “You’d still drag me along even if I said no.”

“Well, duh!” Nobara exclaims. “Besides, you wouldn’t wanna miss out on seeing (Y/N) in a bikini, right?”

I look at Megumi, and he looks away and pulls his collar over his face. “Shut up.”

“I’d be excited if I were you, Fushiguro,” Itadori remarks. “If you don’t hype up your girlfriend, I will.”

“Hey,” Megumi stammers, “she’s... not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Nobara replies, “and you’re not blushing.”

Itadori suddenly gasps and takes off running. “Oh, crap! The movie’s starting!”

Nobara chases after him. “Hey, hold up! There’s no way I’m watching some worm-o man!”

“At least give us our stuff!” I add, joining in on the chase. “We still have to go to the grocery store!”

“Come on!” Itadori calls out. “Fushiguro, you want some popcorn? Caramel flavor, right?”

Megumi runs up behind us. “Just don’t tell me the plot if we’re gonna see worm-o man.”

“I told you,” Itadori replies, “it’s Human Earthworm 4!”

— — — — —

Nobara leans on the counter, mug in hand. “So, are you gonna tell me about your kind-of boyfriend?”

We changed into our pajamas, and we decided to make hot chocolate in the kitchen before we head off to Nobara’s room.

“Okay, well,” I begin, “it’s kind of a long story.”

“That’s okay. We have kind of a long time.”

I sit down on the couch, and she follows me.

“A friend of mine confessed to me,” I start, “and we had a summer fling, I guess. At the same time, there was another guy who liked me, and I think I kind of started compulsively liking him back, but nothing ever happened with him. Me and the first guy got closer during marching band, and a bunch of us also went on a vacation-road-trip thing and we hung out a lot during that time.

“We didn’t really talk outside of that,” I explain. “I think we hung out maybe once over the summer. Then, school started up again, and he wasn’t making any effort to talk to me. It was almost like he was avoiding me. So, I got an opportunity to hang out with him, and I asked him over text, ‘hey, do you wanna hang out?’ And...”

I pause to take a sip of my hot chocolate for dramatic effect.

“...he sent me an angry paragraph.”

“Of course he did,” Nobara scoffs.

“He was like, ‘oh, I don’t wanna hang out with you or talk to you, and I see now that you’ve been, like, leading me on and using me,’” I continue. “‘You didn’t like that other guy and you didn’t like me, or whatever, and I never wanna talk to you again.’ And then he blocked me! Like—”

I make a face to get my point across.

“—what are you talking about? You said I was a ‘very attractive person,’ and now you’re saying I was the one using you? Using you for fucking what?! And how do I know you didn’t like me just because of my body?”

“Right?” Nobara replies. “Boys do that, they fall for your looks and then they can’t handle your personality.”

“I know!” I exclaim. “Like, I’m aware that I’m fairly attractive, but if you just want me on your arm as some trophy to show off, as some accessory, like, get out of here!”

“He just couldn’t handle all that,” she remarks.

“Guess not,” I chuckle. “To be fair, neither of us were good at communication. I mean, we were both young, and dumb, and inexperienced. That heartbreak was bound to happen at some point, right?”

“I suppose,” she agrees, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve it. He could’ve been way better about letting you down slowly.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I reply, “but that breakup made me think a lot and reflect on myself as a person. If it hadn’t happened the way it did, I wouldn’t have stopped to think about what I’m doing wrong. I mean, it’s happened too many times: people think I’m pretty, so they give me a try, and my personality scares them off. I’m starting to think I’m the problem.”

I look up to the ceiling.

“I guess I’m scared.”

“Scared?” Nobara repeats. “Of what?”

I sigh. “I’m scared that I’ll never find someone who loves all of me, even the parts I secretly hate and think are ugly and unlovable. I don’t want them to just ignore or romanticize my flaws, I want them to see the flaws and still continue to love me in spite of them, you know? A lot of people think insecurity is just disliking your body, but it’s so much more than that. It’s also thinking that everything you do, everything you say, is wrong. It’s the fear that making one mistake will drive everyone away.

“So,” I continue, “I guess that was just a really roundabout way of saying I’m grateful that you’re still here. I’m thankful that you haven’t left me, or decided that I’m not worth dealing with. I’m glad that you don’t think I’m annoying, or arrogant, or a bad person. I mean, unless you do.”

“Of course not,” she affirms. “You just made some wrong decisions in the past, and you learned from them. Bad people don’t actually care about getting better, you know. The fact that your past actions still affect you that much tells me that you’re a much better person than you think you are.”

I sigh again and look over at her.

“Thank you.”

She shifts closer to me and takes out her phone. “Will it make you feel better to plan our vacation?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, it will.”

Chapter Text

“I’m so glad you suggested this, (Y/N),” Nobara sighs.

After our flight landed in Okinawa, the four of us checked into our rental beach house and headed down to the beach as soon as humanly possible. Nobara and I are now reclining on beach chairs, our eyes shut, soaking up the sunshine.

“I know,” I reply. “I wish we were able to stay longer, but two nights is still better than none at all. I’m gonna get so relaxed, watch me.”

“Yeah, and you’ll get a great tan while you’re at it.”

“For sure. Whoever picked out this swimsuit knew what they were doing.”

“Damn right, they did.”

When we went swimsuit shopping last week, Nobara pulled from the rack an incredible (F/C) two-piece that I knew was the one before I even tried it on. The top is simple: a halter top that ties at the nape of my neck and the middle of my back. It lifts and supports in all the right places, so everything feels secure (and looks great too). The bottom is equally simple, laying high on my hips to create a sort of V shape, a tie on either side. It fits like it’s tailored, like it was made for me.

Nobara’s is just as cute: a red, gingham-patterned two-piece set, complete with high-waisted bottoms and a top more akin to a cropped tank top than a bikini. For a two-piece, it’s pretty modest—I suppose that’s trending right now—but she absolutely pulls it off.

A drop of water falls onto my face.

I open my eyes. Itadori stands over me, his hair dripping with seawater. That scared me; I thought it started to rain.

“Come on, (Y/N), Kugisaki,” he says, “you can’t be planning to just spend all day sitting here. That’s so boring!”

“At least we have a plan,” Nobara remarks. “Next, we’re going boring clothes shopping at the boring strip mall.”

“Come on!” Itadori grabs my arm, pulling me up with more force than I expected.

I guess it wouldn’t hurt to wade into the water a bit.

I follow Itadori out to the shoreline. The waves are so calm, so tiny, that they don’t crash; they simply roll in leisurely around my feet, like they're on vacation as well. The water is the perfect temperature, not too cold and not too warm. I wade in, the water reaching my ankles, then my knees.

Itadori laughs. “(Y/N), look! I can see Fushiguro from here!”

I turn away from the beach. Sure enough, our rental is visible from the beach. A figure I can only assume is Megumi stands on the balcony, watching us. I wave to him, and he simply raises his hand, similar to how a parent would wave to one of their friends.

“Why didn’t he come down here with us?” I ask.

“I dunno,” Itadori replies from a few feet behind me, “he didn’t say. If I had to guess, he probably couldn’t handle seeing you look this good.”

“Oh, not you too...”

“What? I’m just saying, you look really nice. I told you if he didn’t hype you up, I would.”

In the distance, I see Megumi massage his temples. I can practically hear his annoyed sigh. Itadori must have done something dumb behind me, where I couldn’t see it.

I turn my head to look back at him. “You flirting with me?”

Itadori tilts his head. “Huh? Why do you think that?”

“Well, you’re not denying it.”

“Stop trying, Itadori,” Nobara chimes in from her chair. “You couldn’t pull a baddie like (Y/N). Besides, she’s already got a boyfriend.”

“Megumi’s not my boyfriend, Nobara.”

“He may as well be!” Nobara exclaims. “The tension between you two is unbearable! I almost can’t watch!”

“You’re talking about us like we’re characters in a book.”

“Oh, you two are far more entertaining than any book I’ve ever read. You kissed him too, remember?”

“Okay, yeah, but he hasn’t kissed me.”

“Well, it’s only a matter of time.”

I turn back to the ocean. I waded farther into the water at some point, and everything from my hips down is now completely submerged. I put my hands in the water, swaying them slightly and feeling the tension of the water dance around my fingers.

I look over my shoulder, back out at the balcony, but Megumi’s gone.

Well, if it really is only a matter of time, I guess all I can do is wait.

— — — — —

“Wanna go down to the beach again, now that it’s dark?” Nobara offers.

Nobara and I changed out of our swimsuits, now clad in more casual clothing. We should probably be in bed by now, but whatever; we’re on vacation!

I shrug. “Sure, why not?”

We slowly make our way downstairs, passing by Megumi and Itadori’s shared room on the way.

“Well, you want to kiss her, don’t you?”

Itadori’s voice comes from the other side of the closed door, slightly muffled.

Nobara and I share a look. Did we hear that right?!

“...Yeah.”

Megumi’s voice.

Going to the beach can wait. We have to hear this. Nobara and I approach the door, each pressing an ear to it.

“Well, you should go for it! She’s kissed you already, right?”

“She was drunk when she did that.”

What? No I wasn’t! I even told him it wore off!

“Really? She seemed sober to me.”

“That’s not the point. The point is... I don’t know if she wants me to.”

“Well, then ask her.”

“Huh?”

“Ask her.”

“Yeah, smartass. How?”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds.

“Remember when we watched that movie, Girl From the Valley? She loved the cheesy romance scenes, remember?”

Itadori is right: I do love that movie.

“Alright, here’s what you do: tomorrow, take her down to the beach, watch the sunset with her, tell her how you feel, and then say, ‘hey, can I kiss you?’ She won’t be able to resist, Fushiguro.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, the worst she could say is ‘no.’”

“The worst she could say is ‘ew, get away from me, you pervert.’”

“Yeah, but she’s not gonna say that, it’s okay. She likes you, remember?”

It’s quiet again.

“Fine, I’ll try it.”

“Alright! Good luck, man.”

“Whatever.”

Footsteps approach the door.

Shit!

Nobara and I scramble out the front door before either of them see us. We descend the stairs down to the sidewalk...

...then we freak out.

Oh my god.

Megumi’s gonna kiss me.

“Did you hear that, (Y/N)? He’s gonna kiss you tomorrow!” She grabs my shoulders, shaking me slightly.

“Yeah, I heard,” I say, burying my face in my hands. God, my face is hot right now.

Nobara practically leaps and spins in front of me, her arms outstretched. “My ship is finally sailing!”

— — — — —

We waited until mid-afternoon to return to the beach. Nobara and I wade into the water, her hair pulled up to avoid getting it wet. Megumi and Itadori stay on the beach, sitting in the same chairs Nobara and I claimed yesterday. They’re just barely out of earshot, which means we’re out of earshot as well.

“What if he doesn’t do it?” I ask. “What if he, like, chickens out at the last second?”

“I dunno,” she says, “do it yourself?”

“I want him to do it, though. I feel like I’ve been the one initiating every time, putting in the effort.”

“I’m gonna help you guys. Hang on a sec.”

Nobara makes her way back onto the beach. I follow her.

“So,” she says, reaching for her towel, “you guys wanna watch the sunset tonight?”

“Yeah!” Itadori exclaims, standing up. “I got a feeling it’s gonna be a good one.”

“Here’s an idea...”

Nobara tries to hide the mischief in her voice, but I catch it anyway.

“...how about two of us watch from the balcony, and two of us watch from the beach?”

Oh, I see what she’s doing. She’s trying to get me and Megumi alone on the beach, to help their plan go smoothly.

That means I have to pretend not to know about it.

“Why don’t we all go up to the balcony?” I offer. “Or, we could all stay down here too.”

“No, because...”

Nobara tries to come up with an excuse on the fly.

“..because we have to experiment, you know? We have to find out which view is better. For future reference, of course.”

“Oh, experiment, yeah,” Itadori chimes in. He’s clearly just playing along; he’s not as good as Nobara is at hiding it. “Kugisaki and I will go up to the balcony, and you two can stay down here. Sound good?”

“Alright, I guess that’s fine,” I agree. “Megumi?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m fine with that.”

There’s a falter in his voice so subtle, I don’t think either of them catch it.

Is he already nervous?

— — — — —

“You ready, Megumi?” I ask, slipping on my sandals. I’m still wearing my swimsuit, but I’ve tied a silk scarf around my hips as a cover-up of sorts.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“Have fun, you guys!” Itadori calls out from the kitchen. He gives Megumi a very obvious wink.

“Take lots of pictures,” Nobara adds. “For the experiment, remember?”

“Oh, I will,” I reply.

With that, Megumi and I start heading down to the beach.

The sun is still pretty high and probably won’t set for at least another 20 minutes. We sit down in the sand, a few feet away from the shoreline.

“Have you been having fun?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s been nice.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen much of you this trip.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve seen me every day.”

“I know, but... I feel like I’ve been hanging out with Nobara and Itadori more than you. I’m glad we’re getting this alone time together.”

“Yeah... me too.”

He looks out at the horizon. The sun illuminates his profile, casting a soft, golden glow on his face. God, he’s pretty.

“We still have some time before the good part of the sunset,” I say. “Wanna go into the water?”

“I don’t feel like swimming.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Even though you’re wearing a swimsuit?”

He glances down at his black swim trunks. “Yeah.”

“And you wouldn’t be wearing that if you weren’t planning on going in the water?”

He sighs. “Guess not.”

I stand up. I pretend not to notice how he watches as I untie my scarf, throwing it farther up the beach.

I hold out my hand. “Come on.”

He takes my hand and stands. He doffs his white T-shirt, tossing it somewhere in the general direction of my scarf. I don’t know where it lands; I’m not paying attention.

I’m zeroed in on his bare torso.

Seeing even an inch of collarbone on this guy is like seeing a Victorian woman’s ankle. I’ve never seen... this much of him. His toned arms, his broad shoulders, and how the hell is his waist so small?

“You gonna take a picture, or just keep staring?”

“Sorry,” I stammer, “I was—sorry.”

I turn around and walk into the sea, stopping when the water reaches my hips. I turn around to face Megumi, following a meter or two behind me.

Then, I squeeze my eyes shut and crouch down, submerging myself completely.

When I resurface, my hair sticks to my face. I jerk my head, flipping it out of the way.

“—that for?”

That’s all I hear him say because of the water in my ears. He probably asked why I did that.

“Why not? Come on in, the water’s fine!”

I duck under the water again, then come back out a second later. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing.

“I said come on in!”

I cup my hands, throwing water up at him. He turns his head, dodging most of it.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“Why not?” I flick some more water at him, and the droplets land on his chest, his shoulders, everywhere that’s not already submerged. “You’re already in the water.”

His voice drops. “(Y/N), I’m serious.”

That makes me pause. I take a step toward him. “Wait, sorry, did I... do something—”

He yanks his hand out of the water, splashing it at me.

I gasp dramatically, my jaw dropping. He chuckles, an almost playful glint in his eyes.

“Got you.”

I grin. “Oh, you’re in for it now!”

We splash water at one another relentlessly, nothing more serious than a cat fight. I shriek whenever the water hits my face, and giggle whenever the same thing happens to him.

My foot slips. I stumble and let out another shriek. The wet sand breaks my fall; I must have moved up into the shallow water at some point. The tiny waves roll in around me, the water near my head no more than a few centimeters deep.

“You okay?”

Megumi stands above me, a hand outstretched to help me up. There’s a smile plastered on his face.

A real smile.

I let out a laugh, the kind of belly laugh that only comes out when you’re lying on your back, and rest my arms on the sand around me. “Yeah, I’m great.”

I look up at him.

“I love your smile.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” I press, sitting up. “I like it a lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He sits back down next to me, and I look out at the sunset. The sun has just touched the horizon, casting a golden glow on the sea. Billowing clouds hang low in the sky, but they don’t impede on the sunset. It’s the textbook definition of picturesque.

Wait, I should be taking pictures.

I pick up my phone and snap a few photos. The experiment Nobara suggested isn’t real, but who doesn’t take pictures of a pretty sunset?

“What else?”

I look over at Megumi. His eyes are locked on the view in front of him, definitely avoiding my gaze on purpose.

“What else... do I like about you?”

“Yeah. If there’s... anything else.”

I bring my knees to my chest. I cross one arm over my knees and rest my head on it, my other hand reaching out to his hair, still damp with seawater.

“I like your dumb hair.”

“Hey.” He shoves my hand away.

“What? I said I like it!”

He scoffs, though it’s obvious he’s not annoyed.

“I also like... how considerate you are,” I continue. “I mean, you ask me a bunch of questions, keep the conversation going, you know? You cooked dinner on Nobara’s birthday, you pulled me away from that explosion during the exchange event, you focused on saving me when we fought that special-grade together... I don’t know why you hide it. I don’t know why you pretend you’re not protecting us, why you pretend not to care, when it’s obvious that you’re the one who cares the most. Megumi...”

He glances over at me.

“...you’re a good person. That’s what I like about you.”

Something flickers in his eyes. I place a hand on his shoulder, then slowly drag it down his arm.

“You’re also, if you don’t mind me saying so... unfairly attractive.”

“What, so you like me ‘cause you think I’m handsome?”

“Were you listening to me? It’s not just ‘cause you’re handsome, dummy. It is definitely a bonus, though.”

I look back out at the sunset. The sun, now halfway down, glows redder by the second. The clouds appear to be closer now, almost like they’re threatening to approach and rain on us. I squint at them; they already look pretty developed and will probably dissipate before they make it over here.

“I just thought I’d tell you, since I don’t know when else I’ll get the chance,” I explain. “You know, when people are on their death bed and their life flashes before their eyes, they always regret the things they didn’t do more than the things they did. It’s always ‘I wish I did that’ and rarely ‘I wish I didn’t do that.’ I figured if I die anytime soon, I’ll regret not telling you.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t talk about dying. I...”

He shifts closer and wraps an arm around me.

“...I want to get away from that for a little while. Isn’t that why you suggested coming here?”

I sigh, partially in acceptance and partially in relief. “Yeah.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, picking up my phone again. The sun is about to set completely, and I want to get the green flash on video.

He better do this soon.

I watch intently as the sun finally dips below the horizon. I didn’t see the green flash; maybe my video caught it? I’ll have to check later.

He pulls his arm back. “I want to tell you some things too.”

There we go.

I raise my head. “Yeah, go for it.”

He keeps his eyes glued to the horizon and takes a breath.

“When I first met you, I didn’t like you very much.”

I snicker. “Strong start.”

“Just let me finish.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“When I first met you, I wasn’t fond of you. And then, it was like... I don’t know, something changed. I don’t know if it was that spar where you pinned me down, or when you laughed at Zenin, or when it actually happened, but I... started seeing you in a different light, I guess.”

“Yeah?” I say, looking out at the horizon. I figure he’d be more comfortable if I’m not looking at him. “What kind of light?”

“Well... I...”

He swallows and lets out a shaky sigh.

“Hey, it’s alright,” I affirm, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t get mad at you, unless you say I’m, like, awful or something. You’re not gonna say that, right?”

“No.”

“Well, then it’s okay. Come on, you don’t bat an eye at cursed spirits, you can talk to a girl.”

He’s never gonna work up the courage to kiss me at this rate.

“I... don’t know what it was, but something was different,” he continues. “Something about the way you... the way you speak—god, that sounds weird, I—”

He sighs.

“—You see this?”

I look over at him. I expect him to be pointing or gesturing to something, but all he’s doing is holding out his hands, palms facing down. I see what he was trying to point out.

His hands are trembling.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” I ask, taking both of his hands.

“Yeah,” he says, “you—”

He sighs again, more frustrated than before. He pulls his hands away.

“—I’m trying to say you make me nervous.”

“Nervous?” I repeat, instead placing a hand on his shoulder again. “About what?”

He shrugs my hand away. “I don’t know.”

“You can tell me. I’m not gonna be mad, or judge you or anything.”

He’s not looking at me anymore. His tense shoulders drop, and he shakes his head.

“I screwed this up. I’m sorry.”

He stands up, grabs his shirt, and makes his way back up the beach to the sidewalk.

“Wait, wha—hey, wait, Megumi, come back!”

He’s already gone.