"So, just to be clear," her voice was tired, "what do you want from me? Join the sorcerer world?"
Gojo hummed. "Yeah. Jujutsu High's not a bad place with me as your teacher." He sent a proud gaze her way, "Plus, I did sorta promise your folks I'd look after you if you joined."
"…So you did know them." Her eyes narrowed. "Since when?"
"Long story," he said, waving a hand lazily. "They were my supervisors back in the day. Saw them this morning. Didn't know you were their kid until they dropped the bomb on me." He flashed a grin. "Small world, huh?"
"Hah." Aimi let out a tired breath, barely amused.
Silence settled for a moment before she continued, "You seriously want me to go to Jujutsu High?"
"Didn't I just say that?"
"And how exactly am I supposed to be a sorcerer if I can't even see curses?"
"Glasses," he replied smoothly. "Cursed tools. You won't be the first anomaly we've had to accommodate."
"Then why don't you go to those anomly for help then."
"Not the same anomaly here, Mi-chan~"
"Don't call me that," she glared.
"Hahaha, why not? It's a cute nickname, no?"
"Whatever...Stop changing the subject. Then what?" she finally asked. "After that, I joined Jujutsu High? What's your endgame?"
Gojo tilted his head with an amused grin "You like thinking ahead, huh. What, do you want me to lay out a five-year plan too?"
"You should have that damn 5 year plan if you wanna toy with my life."
"Relax," Gojo sighed, "You can't change the whole system in just a generation. The system's corrupted because of the higher-up's old-fashioned way of doing things. Those bastards are stubborn, so killing them won't do any good; they'd just get replaced. The best strategy is to build strength in the newer generations—foster their mindset."
She listened silently.
"The future depends on the next line of people. I need kids stronger than me to lead the future because, at this pace, Japan might just perish when I die."
"What do you mean?"
"Hahh," he scratched his head, "you'll get it by joining me."
"..."
"I need people without sorcery heritage backing them to stray away from the traditional pass down that comes with their bloodline." He shrugged. "I'm working on that goal. My students are all strong-headed, independent kids." He leaned his head to the side and beamed at her. "If you wanna join, we gotta get you ready."
"Get ready for what?"
"Kids who join Jujutsu High usually already have exposure to curses. They've seen stuff, fought stuff. You'd be the oldest one walking in blind," he teased.
"Hehh…" She glanced up at the sky, pretending to think. "You're talking like I'm gonna join."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"What kind of question is that? I have a life outside all this. One that I worked hard to build. I'm not throwing it away for some wishy-washy magic-sounding bullshit."
"You say that, but the passion's in your blood." He hummed. "Shikumi and Fukazu are some of the most dedicated folks I know. They lived for exorcising, for making a difference."
"Shut up. Don't bring them up to gaslight me."
"It's not gaslighting, it's making a point." He patted her back briefly. "Lighten up~ you're so serious, Aimi-chan." He grabbed her hand and stood up. "We should go home."
She tried to pull away. "Yeah, you go to your home. I'll go to mine."
"You sure you don't want a sleepover?" he nudged cutely.
"No."
"Aww~"
"I'll think and let you know when I finish." Aimi shoved her half-trembling hands into her hoodie jacket and strolled off, "Goodnight."
Gojo stood behind, watching her shadow dissolve with a relaxed smile, "Kids these days are so troublesome." He sang quietly.
------
Sounds of sparring filled the dojo, flesh against padded gloves, sharp kiais echoing off polished wood. The air was thick with focus and sweat.
It's been almost a week since that day. Aimi continued to live on like nothing had happened.
She walked the perimeter of the room, her hands tucked firmly behind her back, sharp eyes scanning every movement. Every stance. Every slip.
"Keep your guard up," she said calmly, nudging a student's elbow into place. "You're leaving your ribs wide open."
The student nodded and adjusted.
Another pair stumbled out of rhythm. Aimi was there before they could reset. "Footwork," she muttered. "You're not dancing. Stay grounded."
The upcoming martial arts exam loomed over the dojo like a silent clock. Her students would be representing their school, fighting against others to prove their progress. She wanted them to succeed—all of them.
So she threw herself into preparing them. Into being present.
But she wasn't, not really.
She'd been doing her usual routine. Attending lectures, teaching martial arts, studying, and submitting assignments, like everything was fine. Like she wasn't unravelling slowly beneath.
Her mind had felt blurry ever since. Gojo's words. Her parents' faces. The truth they dropped in her lap like it was some ancient relic she didn't ask for.
She thought if she stayed busy enough, it would go away. That maybe she'd forget, but she hadn't.
If anything, all the busyness made the quiet moments worse. Every time she stopped moving, the questions came back louder than before.
What happens next?
Where does she go from here?
A student's shout snapped her out of her thoughts. One of the younger kids had landed a solid throw, and the others clapped quietly in approval. Aimi gave a small nod, hiding the sigh that had almost escaped her chest.
Focus.
One more week to their exam, as a supervisor, that's all she should think about now. Everything else… could wait.
She turned toward the far end of the dojo, watching her students square up again, each more determined than the last.
Still, her mind drifted.
What if she did join?
What would she be giving up? What would she gain?
Would it even matter?
A loud thud echoed across the room—someone hit the mat hard.
"Focus!" she snapped before she could stop herself.
The room quieted for a beat. A few students glanced at her, startled by her suddenly raised voice. Aimi took a breath and softened her tone.
"Take a break," she coughed awkwardly. "Five minutes. Get water."
They scattered, some whispering, others shooting curious glances toward the door. A few looked excited—someone had entered. But Aimi didn't notice. She was too far in her own head.
She walked toward the wall, leaning against the wooden beam near the windows. Outside, rain had begun to fall lightly, tapping against the glass like her inner turmoil begging to be heard.
She rubbed the back of her neck. Her muscles were tight with tension, she couldn't stretch away.
She didn't notice the faint, almost playful voice behind her at first.
"You sure you're not already a sorcerer?"
She turned slowly.
Gojo stood right next to her, still in his dark uniform. The usual fabric that covered his eyes hung loosely around his neck. His signature grin was there.
"You're scarily good at pretending nothing's wrong."
Aimi's eyes widened. As a martial artist, it was embarrassing—not noticing someone enter, let alone realising he was standing right next to her. Since when?
Her brows furrowed.
"What…" she exhaled. "Why are you here?"
"Why can't I be? I missed Aimi-chan..." he said, then casually waved at the group of kids across the room who were beaming at him. "And the kids." While wearing that stupid grin that screamed, long time no see~.
"I said I'd let you know when I finish thinking, didn't I?"
"But you're not even thinkin', are ya?"
She didn't respond.
"Stop running~ You wanna be a sorcerer, don'tcha?" he leaned against the wall beside her, his tone light. "If you didn't, you would've dismissed the idea already. I know you, Aimi-chan~"
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"You don't."
"I do."
She stood up straight, visibly irritated, and shot him a sharp glare.
"Aicha~" he raised his hands in a cutesy, defensive pose. "Don't look so mad at me. I'm just worried about you~"
She didn't reply.
"Look, the students are waiting! Five minutes is up~" he reached out and patted her head lightly, his tone playful enough to dissolve the tension. "You should get back to class. Let's talk over dinner."
Aimi got back to teaching the class. Somehow, this time, with him sitting just there, her mind felt less chaotic. The silence didn't bite as much. Especially whenever she turned and caught sight of his idiotic grin and overly attentive eyes, like he was invested in every correction she gave.
The lesson wrapped up before she realised. Her students bowed and thanked her, some of them immediately scurrying over to Gojo for a chat. He greeted each of them like old friends, ruffling heads and tossing in lighthearted jokes.
They loved him.
Once class ended, Aimi slipped away for a quick shower—just enough to rinse off the sweat. When she returned, the last of the students had already bowed out. Their voices were gone, replaced by the soft tapping of rain outside.
Aimi stood alone.
She picked up the cleaning equipment and began mopping the wooden floor in steady strokes. It wasn't her shift, but she didn't care. Her hands needed something to do.
Gojo hadn't left. Of course, he hadn't.
He sat cross-legged on the floor near the wall, still munching on something from the vending machine, crumbs gathering in the folds of his dark uniform.
"You done pretending you're just the janitor?" he asked between bites.
"You done being an uninvited pest?" she shot back flatly, not even looking at him.
"Ouch, you're harsher today, Aimi-chan~" He stood up and wandered toward her, pretending to clutch his heart in pain.
"Sorry. I'm in a bad mood, if you can't tell." She put the mop away. "Where are we going?"
Gojo picked up her bag and held it out to her."Tonkatsu Don?"
"No." She slung the bag over her shoulder. "Something warmer."
"Ramen?"
"Okay."
They walked in a quiet, pleasant rhythm down a rain-dampened street. The restaurant they stopped at was tucked between two laundromats, fogged-up windows glowing faintly under the streetlights. The stools were cheap, the room small, but it smelled like comfort.
They sat by the window. Gojo, unsurprisingly, ordered too much—bowls of noodles and side dishes that could feed an entire family.
"You're gonna finish all that?" Aimi asked.
"Curse techniques burn lots of calories," he said casually, pouring her a drink without asking.
She stared at the cup, then finally spoke.
"So… what happens if I say yes?"
Gojo looked up, surprised she brought it up first.
"If you say yes?" He leaned forward. "I'll start training you. In three months, a new batch of students will join. I'll introduce you to them, and your days at Jujutsu High begin."
"That's convenient," she muttered as the food arrived. They began eating.
"So we live on campus?"
"Yeah, it's sorta like a military camp~"
"What about my freedom? I'm still supervising the kids here… and I've got uni."
"Ehhh," he chewed. "I don't think you can keep attending uni. Joining Jujutsu High is basically dropping other paths.. You train full-time, and after you graduate, you work as a sorcerer." He slurped noodles. "As for freedom... you'll get weekends off. Unless you take on missions, the pay aint bad."
Aimi didn't say anything for a moment.
"And if I say no?"
He leaned back with a shrug.
"Then I'll still show up at your dojo. Or uni. Piss you off now and then." He spoke nonchalantly. "Because I like seeing you. That won't change."
She poked at her noodles, eyes lowered.
"…You just like me for this weird curse-energy cancellation thing, don't you?"
"Yeah. But that ability's a part of you, so technically…" He gave her a dumb grin. "I still just like you."
"…You say stuff like that so easily."
"Because it's true. Why complicate it?"
She sighed and looked out the foggy window beside them. Rain was still drizzling faintly, just enough to blur the streetlights into soft halos.
"Speaking like things are always so simple."
"Things are usually simple. Humans just get scared of choosing."
Aimi rested her chin on her palm, her gaze distant, lost in the blurred city lights beyond the window.
Suddenly, a shift in the air tugged a sly grin onto Gojo's face. "Good timing."
"What good timing?"
"Let's show you what curses are like," he stood up and stretched. "You done eating?"
"Yeah...?"
Before she could react, he had already paid, grabbed her hand, and pulled her outside into the drizzling night.
"?"
He didn't explain. Hand in hand, he led her down a deserted street. She just followed quietly, her steps syncing to his.After a while, the paved road gave way to an open valley, empty, eerie, with broken streetlights flickering against the mist.
"Looks like we made it just in time," Gojo said casually.
Ahead of them, pressed against the graffiti-stained wall, was a trembling woman, her back pinned to the cold concrete. At first, all Aimi could see was the fear frozen on her face. But something felt wrong. There seemed to be an invisible terror looming near her, unseen but thick enough to choke on.
"Is she okay?" Aimi asked, confused.
"Oh, right. You can't see," He remembered with a chuckle and dug into his pockets to pull out a battered pair of glasses. "Don't touch the lens, alright~ I am pretty sure you can nullify imbued curse energy," he warned as he fit them onto her. "Maybe I should get you a customised pair, huh?"
The world sharpened the moment the glasses slid into place.
Before her, the empty air twisted into form — a grotesque creature materialised, hunched and twitching.
Its limbs were too long, sagging with loose skin, its mouth a gaping maw of teeth stitched messily together, drooling thick black tar onto the ground. Hollow, gleaming eyes rolled toward them, the sockets wet and searching.
Aimi stiffened, a small gasp escaping her.She wasn't the type to watch horror movies. Gore, monsters, nightmares, she wasn't used to any of it through the screen, let alone one unfolded before her, raw and real.
"This," Gojo said, his voice carefree and joyous, "is a curse."
The woman against the wall whimpered, curling into herself, shielding her face with shaking arms. "Help me," she cried out in a broken whisper.
Aimi turned sharply to Gojo, frowning, "How-why are you so calm?" she nudged him. "Do something?"
Gojo just smiled, unbothered. "Don't worry. She won't die~"
Aimi blinked, confused, then looked back at the creature and noticed how the curse wasn't moving. No, it was...trembling?
Frozen in place, its body curled inward in a desperate, cowardly stance.Terrified.
Aimi's gaze darted between Gojo and the curse, the truth began to click into place.It wasn't that the creature didn't want to attack — it couldn't.
Gojo's presence alone paralysed it.An overwhelming, almost physical aura blanketed the valley, like a silent storm crashing against the world itself.Even without feeling cursed energy, Aimi could see it — a rippling distortion around him, sheathing him like a living threat.
It was heavy. Oppressive and enough to freeze monsters in fear.
She shivered slightly.Not from fear, but from the sheer realisation of who Gojo Satoru potentially could be.
Aimi lowered the glasses slightly, her heart still thudding against her ribs.The world without them blurred again, and the grotesque sight vanished like a bad dream.
"...Tch," she clicked her tongue, putting the glasses back on.
Gojo watched her with a lazy grin. "Too much for your first curse?"
She gave a slow shake of her head. "It's... disgusting."
He chuckled, "You get used to it~" and then his attention turned back to the curse. With a lazy flick of his wrist, a pulse of invisible force rippled out. The curse didn't even scream. It simply crumpled into nothingness, like paper set alight by a flame that never touched it.
The woman collapsed, sobbing softly into her arms.Gojo didn't rush over or even seem to show that he cared. He just stood there, watching with a neutral expression.
Aimi frowned again. She isn't sure how this is supposed to work, but it felt surprisingly detached. Perhaps she was expecting sorcerers to be hero-like figures? She is very wrong.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Someone's already on the way. Barrier team's gonna clean her memory. If we let civilians remember curses, we'd have mass panic on our hands."
Aimi said nothing, watching as the woman slowly rocked herself, unseen rescue squads already beginning to materialise from the mist further down the valley.
Footsteps approached through the mist — quick, half-panicked.
Aimi glanced up to see a slender man in a soaked suit rushing toward them, umbrella clutched but unopened, rain dripping down his glasses.
"Gojo-san!" the man called out, breathless. "Please, for once, answer your phone!"
Gojo turned lazily toward him, hands still tucked into his pockets."Kiyotaka Ijichi," he drawled, the name slipping from his mouth like a sigh. "You're looking a little more wrinkly since I last saw you."
"It's only been six months!" Ijichi snapped, adjusting his glasses furiously. "And you're the reason I look like this!"
Gojo just grinned, entirely unfazed.
"The principal's been trying to reach you all week! The higher-ups are furious—again! We can't keep covering for your negligence, Gojo-san!"
"Negligence~?" Gojo tilted his head innocently. "C'mon. The kids are fine. My first-years are second-year now. They can wipe their own noses. Mostly."
Aimi blinked. He doesn't sound particularly responsible, probably even back when his students were first-years.
"You're still their instructor!" Ijichi pressed.
"Technically," Gojo stretched his arms lazily over his head. "Anyway, not my fault the next batch of first-years isn't arriving for another three months. I'm just enjoying my paid vacation."
"You call this 'vacation'?"
"You call this 'work'?"
Ijichi's eye twitched dangerously, but he soldiered on."The real issue is the Sukuna finger, Gojo-san. The higher-ups are still finalising the retrieval plan, but if you keep acting like this, they might assign someone else."
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "Huh. They're still dragging their feet about that?"
"You're not exactly helping by being unreachable!" Ijichi groaned. "They can't rely on you if you won't even pick up your damn phone- ahem, excuse me."
Gojo chuckled, "Calm down~ They don't have a choice," Gojo said simply, stretching his arms above his head. "It's not just another cursed object. It's Sukuna's finger. If they hand it off to someone incompetent, we're gonna have a special-grade curse party before sunset."
Ijichi grimaced. "Still… It's just a finger. Technically, any Grade 1 sorcerer should be able to handle it."
"You can tell yourself that if it helps you sleep, Ijichi," Gojo shrugged. "But we all know a single finger's enough to level half a city block; they'll be cleaning up bodies with one wrong move. I don't think those old bastards could afford that."
Ijichi visibly deflated, his mouth opening... then shutting again.
"You know," Gojo continued, tone casual again, "I'm the best option. They know it too. They just don't like admitting it out loud, right Aimi-chan?" he suddenly turned towards her with a grin.
"What?" She failed to understand how this was her problem.
Ijichi noticed her then, blinking awkwardly. "And... who is this?"
"None of your business," Gojo grinned, slinging an arm casually around her shoulder. "Yet."
Aimi tensed, resisting the urge to elbow him in the ribs.
"Anyway," Gojo said brightly, breaking the mood with a clap of his hands, "you tell Principal Gandalf that if he wants me to behave, he can bake me a cake."
Ijichi looked like he had aged another ten years on the spot."...I'll tell him something," he muttered bitterly.
With one last tired bow, he disappeared into the mist, retreating toward the clean-up team that had arrived in quiet, practised waves.
Gojo watched him leave, hands casually slipping back into his pockets.
"Poor guy's gonna pop a blood vessel one day," he mused aloud, turning to Aimi with a lazy smile.
"You seem like a nightmare to work with." She walked off with her chin deeper into her scarf.
"Don't look so overwhelmed, Aimi-chan~" he teased and followed her. "You're gonna have to get used to hearing crazier stuff sticking around."
"I'm not sticking around," she groaned, though it lacked conviction.