Chapter Text
You and Suguru eventually reached the end of the hallway.
The storage room door stood slightly crooked in its frame, the old metal handle scratched and worn from years of use.
You reached for it.
Suguru noticed your hand pause for the briefest moment before turning the knob.
It was small.
Almost nothing.
But Suguru had spent enough of his childhood around you to notice those kinds of pauses.
The door creaked open.
A stale smell drifted out—dust, old wood, and something faintly metallic.
Inside were stacks of unused desks, spare chairs, cracked training equipment, and boxes that had probably been forgotten by three different graduating classes.
You stepped inside first.
Suguru followed, letting the door swing shut behind him.
The fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead.
For a moment the two of you stood there in silence, surrounded by furniture that no one currently needed.
The awkwardness settled in properly now.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
You walked toward the nearest stack of chairs and pulled one free, brushing a thin layer of dust from the seat with your hand.
Suguru watched you for a moment before speaking. “…Kyoto suits you.”
It sounded casual.
But there was something careful in the way he said it.
Like he doesn't mean it but wasn't entirely sure what ground he was allowed to stand on anymore.
You glanced at him briefly. “Not really.”
Another quiet pause.
Suguru leaned one shoulder against a stack of desks, arms folding loosely across his chest. “How long…” he started, then stopped himself mid-sentence. His brow creased slightly. “How long were you—uhm…”
You saved him the trouble. “How long was I a cult leader?” you cut in calmly.
Suguru straightened immediately. “No—!”
“Just a year ago,” you continued, brushing more dust off the chair like you were discussing the weather. “If that's what you were asking.”
“No,” Suguru said again, a little more firmly this time. “That's not what I meant.” He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I meant… when did you start seeing curses?”
You stopped brushing the chair.
Suguru continued more carefully. “When did your cursed technique awaken?”
Your hand rested on the backrest of the chair.
For a moment, the room felt quieter.
“Am I still allowed to say ‘secret’?” you asked mildly.
Your tone was light.
Too light.
Suguru studied your face.
He knew that tone.
You used it when you were closing a door.
“…Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I guess you can.”
You nodded once and resumed cleaning the chair.
Conversation over.
Suguru exhaled softly through his nose.
He could push.
But he doesn't want another conversation between you two to end up as an argument. Especially since right now, Suguru feels like the distance between you grew massively over the years.
So instead, he leaned his head back slightly and tried a different topic. “The candy jar you left me is already half empty.”
You glanced at him. “The strawberry ones?” you asked.
“Yeah.” Suguru smiled faintly. “Those.”
He pushed himself away from the stack of desks and walked over to grab another chair. “Can I tell you something honestly?”
You didn’t answer.
But you didn’t stop him either.
“My cursed technique makes me swallow curses to manipulate them,” he said lightly. “They are, let's say, uhm…..,” he continued, lifting a desk from the stack, “they taste kinda bad.” He glanced at you briefly. “When we were kids, you used to coincidentally give me candy whenever I used my technique.”
You stilled slightly.
“You probably didn’t even realize it,” Suguru added. “But it helped.” He smiled a little at the memory. “It distracted me from you know….the curses.”
For a moment the only sound in the room was the faint buzz of the lights.
Suguru adjusted his grip on the desk. “I know we argued last time we saw each other,” he said quietly. “But… I’m glad you decided to join us.”
You looked at him.
And reminded yourself—
He doesn’t know yet.
He doesn’t know yet how corrupt the Jujutsu Society is.
He doesn’t know yet the kind of people sitting comfortably at the top.
He doesn’t know yet that you ‘joining’ wasn’t a choice.
He doesn’t know yet that the higher-ups threatened you with your parents.
He doesn’t know.
Your expression remained calm. “I’m only here to exorcise curses, Geto-san.” The honorific was deliberate. “I’m not interested in saving people.”
Suguru paused.
The words weren’t loud.
But they landed heavier than shouting would have.
For a brief moment something flickered across his expression.
Hurt.
Not anger.
Just hurt.
Because the girl he grew up with used to bring stray animals home and cry with the possibility of them dying when left alone to fend for themselves.
He opened his mouth slightly—
Almost ready to challenge you.
To ask what happened.
But the moment passed.
Instead he shifted the conversation again. “…Anyway,” he said, forcing a small smile. “How’s Jojo?” The thought of the dog brought a genuine smile on his face. Jojo would probably be eight by now. Of course Suguru remembers. “Did your mom let you keep all of her pups? The last update I had about her was when your mom texted my mom that she gave birth.” He grinned.
Your breath hitched.
It was small.
Barely audible.
But Suguru noticed. “Is Jojo still as stupid as ever?” he added lightly.
You didn’t answer.
The chair in your hands suddenly felt heavier.
Dust blurred slightly under your gaze.
A flash—
A dog’s bark.
White snow streaked with red.
Something breaking.
Something dying.
Your chest tightened sharply.
You closed your eyes.
Hard.
The memory slammed into a locked door in your mind.
And stopped.
You inhaled slowly.
When you opened your eyes again your expression was perfectly calm.
Suguru was staring at you now. Concern replacing his smile. “…Are you okay?” he asked.
You picked up the chair. “Yes.”
A beat passed.
“Did I say something wrong?” he pressed gently.
“No,” you said quickly. Then quieter— “No. Just…” You rubbed your temple once. “Stop asking questions, okay?”
“Y/n—” Suguru frowned slightly. “You know if something’s bothering you, you can always tell me,” he said. “I’m your friend.”
Something sharp flickered behind your eyes. “Geto-san,” you interrupted. Your tone had cooled. “How many times do I have to tell you?” You lifted the chair and started walking toward the door. “It’s L/n.”
Your voice remained calm.
Controlled.
But distant.
“Both of us aren’t close enough to call each other by our first names.”
Suguru froze where he stood.
The words stung more than he expected.
For a moment he almost called you out.
Almost said something sharp in return.
‘We used to be.’ The words sat at the back of his throat.
Then he looked at you again.
Really looked.
At the way your shoulders had stiffened.
At the way you were gripping the chair just a little too tightly.
At the way you were avoiding his eyes.
And the argument dissolved before it could begin.
Suguru exhaled quietly. “…Right,” he said. He bent down, picked up a desk and another chair. “Let’s get back before Satoru starts complaining about how long we took.”
You nodded once.
Neither of you spoke as you walked back down the hallway.
The distance between you was only half a step.
But it felt much farther than that.
-
“Look, newbie!” Satoru pointed at you like a prosecutor presenting damning evidence. “I don’t know why you’re allowed to not attend classes,” he continued accusingly, leaning forward from his seat, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t figure out whatever trick you used and copy it.” His sunglasses were pushed up on his head now, bright blue eyes narrowed with exaggerated suspicion. “I refuse to believe someone gets special treatment for no reason.”
‘Kidnapping a higher-up’s grandson usually encourages cooperation.’ you thought.
You adjusted the hem of your school skirt slightly, tugging it down over your knees.
God, sometimes you regretted not ordering a proper uniform from Jujutsu Tech. If you had, you could’ve requested pants like a sensible person.
Instead, you were stuck wearing the stiff navy uniform from your all-girls school in Yokohama. The pleated skirt felt impractical for a job that occasionally involved jumping across rooftops or fighting something with too many limbs.
Unfortunately, you never have thought of that earlier.
And now you were paying for it.
You could have easily shoved Satoru away. Or freeze him in place with a well-placed application of cursed energy (you don't know if you could, but you want to try).
But the three of you were currently wedged together in the backseat of a car barely designed for three teenagers.
The manager from the auxiliary staff was driving you to the mission site, occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror with the expression of someone reconsidering their career choices.
You and Suguru sat by the window.
Satoru—who sat between you and Suguru—had somehow managed to occupy more than half the remaining space through the strategic use of elbows, knees, and aggressive manspreading.
You stared out the window instead of acknowledging him.
The city rolled past in muted shades of grey and neon as the car moved toward the outskirts.
You should have asked Suguru to take the middle seat.
You had forgotten how insufferable Satoru could be when he was bored.
“Anyway,” Satoru continued, apparently undeterred by your lack of reaction, “usually Suguru and I split up during missions so things finish faster.” He tossed your Jujutsu Tech ID card lightly in one hand like a poker chip. “But since you're a newbie,” he went on, “we decided we shouldn’t split up this time.” He grinned. “Who knows how weak you are.”
You didn’t look away from the window.
The mission itself was simple enough.
On paper, at least.
A semi-special grade curse had been lingering in an old graveyard outside the city. The location had recently gained popularity among local teenagers who apparently believed wandering through a graveyard at midnight with a flashlight counted as entertainment.
Five of those teenagers had decided to go ‘ghost hunting’ two nights ago.
Predictably, that had ended poorly.
Now the three of you were being sent to clean up the problem before anyone else wandered in.
Truly idiotic behavior.
Satoru kept examining your ID card. “But it’s impressive,” he added after a moment, sounding mildly annoyed, “how you were immediately labeled a semi-special grade.” He glanced sideways at you. “Especially since I’ve already seen you move and I'm telling you, I am not impressed.”
Your gaze shifted slightly.
What did he even mean by that?
You turned your head just enough to look at him.
Satoru was watching you like someone observing a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. “you’re so boring too!” he said casually. Then he shrugged like it didn’t matter.
Still tossing your ID card in the air.
You looked at him for another second. Then you looked back out the window. “I guess losers like you don’t enjoy the idea that someone might be stronger than you.” You said it quietly.
But loud enough.
You don't know why you're a semi-special grade! You're also sure as hell it's rigged and the higher up’s way to easily send you to your doom.
Satoru froze. “Haaah?” He slowly turned toward Suguru with exaggerated disbelief. “Did you hear that?”
Suguru, who had been silently enduring the entire conversation with saint-like patience, rubbed his temple. “Yes,” he said calmly. “She called you a loser.”
“Unbelievable,” Satoru muttered, offended. “The newbie has been here for five minutes and already started talking trash.” He leaned forward, pointing at you again. “If I get the chance,” he declared dramatically, “I’m leaving you in a sea of curses.”
You didn’t even look at him. “Please do.” Your voice was calm. “I’d prefer that over being with you.”
Suguru let out a quiet laugh under his breath.
Satoru stared at both of you. “Wow,” he said flatly. “You two are terrible.”
Suguru smiled faintly. “You started it Satoru.”
Satoru scoffed loudly and leaned back in his seat again, still holding your ID card hostage. “You better not die on this mission,” he added, glancing sideways at you. “Otherwise people will say I bullied the new girl to death, plus it's embarrassing for someone as cocky as you to die..”
Satoru Gojo doesn't have the right to call you cocky. If you are, what is he then? Cocky pro max?
You finally turned toward him. Your expression was perfectly neutral. “Its highly unlikely I’d die,” you said calmly, “though one thing's for sure, your ego would be the death of you.”
Suguru covered his mouth with one hand.
Satoru stared at you for two full seconds. Then he burst into laughter. “Oh, I like her,” he said, pointing at you again. “She’s rude.”
Suguru sighed. “This mission is going to be exhausting.”