Aiko stood quietly at the gates of Tokyo Jujutsu High, her eyes scanning the ancient, imposing walls that towered before her. They looked like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. A place where power buzzed in the air like static, and eyes watched from the shadows. She clutched the edge of Gojo's coat like a lifeline, unsure of what waited behind those wooden doors.
Gojo nudged her forward with his elbow and grinned. "Relax. You're not cursed or possessed... I think. Just don't freak out when someone floats past you or tries to exorcise you."
He said it like a joke, but she caught the truth beneath his tone.
As they walked inside, the tension thickened. Students trained in open courtyards. One summoned a flaming wolf; another slammed a weighted spear into a stone target. A few froze mid-action as they noticed Gojo—and the unfamiliar girl beside him.
Whispers started instantly.
"Who is she?"
"She's not a sorcerer."
"Why would Gojo bring her here?"
"She's pretty... but she doesn't belong."
Aiko lowered her head, trying to disappear. Her hands trembled slightly, but Gojo wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Eyes on me, Aiko. I don't care what they think," he whispered.
They entered the main building, where they were greeted by a stoic man in a long coat—Principal Yaga.
"She doesn't have cursed energy," he said bluntly after examining her with a frown.
Gojo shrugged. "Nope. But she survived a special-grade attack without protection. That alone makes her interesting."
Yaga's brow furrowed. "That's not enough to keep her here. We aren't a daycare."
"She's mine," Gojo said simply.
The room fell silent.
Yaga's gaze narrowed. "What did you say?"
"I said—" Gojo turned to Aiko, brushing her hair behind her ear, "—I'm vouching for her. She stays."
Aiko's heart skipped. His? What did that mean?
Yaga let out a long sigh. "If anything happens, it's on you."
Gojo grinned. "Deal."
---
Over the following days, Aiko was given a small room in one of the side buildings—nothing grand, but comfortable enough. She wasn't allowed into training zones unsupervised, and many students avoided her. But Gojo made a point of checking in constantly—bringing her snacks, cracking jokes, watching her train in the empty courtyard at dusk.
But the more time she spent here, the more… wrong she began to feel.
She'd forget random details from her past life. Her apartment number. The name of her childhood dog. What her boss looked like. Memories blurred, and every night she'd lie awake, unsure of who she even was anymore.
One morning, she found herself staring into a cracked mirror. The face looking back was hers—but not quite. Her eyes looked sharper. Her skin shimmered faintly under the moonlight. It wasn't cursed energy, but something else pulsed within her.
---
Gojo noticed the change too.
"You're not just any civilian," he said one evening, tossing her a water bottle after her jog. "You resonate."
"With what?" she panted.
"With me," he said, voice low.
She flushed. "Is that your way of flirting?"
"Maybe," he replied with a wink. "But it's also the truth."
That night, he brought her to a small underground training chamber. "Let's try something," he said. "Don't think. Just feel."
He stood behind her, placing his palm flat against her spine. "Focus on the energy in this room. On me. Let it in."
As she closed her eyes, she felt it—a strange thread connecting them, humming faintly like a violin string. Warm. Deep. Real.
Her knees buckled. He caught her.
"You're... different," he whispered, holding her close. "I don't know why. But you feel familiar."
---
Training became routine. Physical exercises, sparring dummies, obstacle courses. Aiko wasn't strong—not yet—but she was determined. She woke up early, ran laps, practiced punches until her knuckles bruised. She refused to be a burden.
And Gojo watched. Always.
Sometimes from a distance. Sometimes openly. And sometimes... he trained with her, guiding her movements, correcting her posture—his hands lingering a little too long. His compliments came softer now, more serious.
"You're doing amazing, Aiko."
"You're stronger than you think."
"You make this world... more beautiful."
Every word chipped away at the walls around her heart.
---
It was a quiet afternoon when everything changed again.
Aiko was cleaning the empty corridor outside the archive room when a chill raced down her spine. The lights flickered. The air turned thick. Then came the smell—rot and decay.
She turned—and saw it.
A small curse, barely human in shape, crawling toward her with jagged limbs and glowing red eyes. A shriek caught in her throat. She backed away, but it lunged.
She screamed.
And then… something broke loose.
The curse stopped midair—frozen. A radiant pulse exploded from her chest, slamming it against the wall. It screeched in agony as dark tendrils wrapped around it, draining its energy until it vanished.
Aiko collapsed, trembling.
Gojo was the first to reach her.
He stared at her—eyes wide, breath shallow. "What... was that?"
"I-I don't know," she whispered. "I didn't do anything... I just... reacted."
Gojo knelt beside her, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You're not just different. You're... impossible."
His hand cupped her cheek. His gaze locked onto hers. "And I can't stop thinking about you."
She swallowed hard. "Gojo..."
"I don't know what you are yet," he murmured, voice rough, "but I know this—when I'm near you, nothing else feels real."
The tension was magnetic.
She leaned in. So did he.
Their lips brushed—just once, soft and hesitant.
Then again, firmer. Real.
He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against hers. "That wasn't professional," he said with a sheepish smile.
"I'm not complaining," she breathed.
---
That night, she lay in bed, heart still racing.
Something had awakened inside her—and not just power.
She was falling for him.
And somehow, she knew he'd fall even harder.