Chapter Text
When the frigid familiar breeze of the summer night swept past you, so did the seconds of each day as you walked back home. Time. Just what exactly did the worth of time mean to you?
To you, it was nothing but another factor in the current corrosion of your youth. Taking the form of the shadows lurking behind every corner you turned, stretching endlessly into the vanishing Tokyo night. It was the stalker of your dreams, a parasite gnawing at its own host. And foolishly, you found yourself still wallowing in that narrow dream of yours, stuck in the constant loop called regret.
But even with all your exaggerated philosophical crisis, you were nothing more than an average student in high school—the kind who'd sometimes hang out with friends, though had never felt truly understood, even when you tried laughing each day away.
In comparison to your whirlwind of thoughts, the street you walked was utterly desolate, the wintry wind piercing straight through your bones. You tried distracting yourself from the gloom as you stretched your arms, reminding yourself you were nearly home.
For some reason, you had been feeling down in the slums. It wasn't because you'd been staying back late for your baseball tournament, and it definitely wasn't because of your slipping grades either.
"Ugh, I feel like crap."
What a day to turn seventeen, you grumbled underneath your shaky breath, dissatisfied with just how your birthday was going as of currently.
”I just want to disappear into the night like this.”
And immediately after the utterance of your words, instead of your disappearance, followed the appearance of a rapidly approaching figure flying pronto in your direction.
You narrowed your eyes, and a split second later, every nerve in your brain lit up, your instincts screaming before you even knew why. Panic surged through you as you dropped low, swiftly dodging the crash of the streetlight right behind you. A soft swish sliced cleanly through the icy air above your ducked head, piercing through the silence of the night.
Trembling, you sneaked a glimpse behind your crouched figure, tightly sheltering your head with a peek.
“What the…?!”
Faint footsteps approached from in front of you, and as you turned to face whoever the hell the offender was, a tall white-haired man stood, his posture cocky and lighthearted despite the gravity of the situation.
He crouched down to match your state, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. His white hair, a little messy, caught the light like frost under moonlight. The high collar of his dark jacket framed his face, sharp and calm beneath the black blindfold that hid his eyes. Every part of him looked deliberate. The way his clothes fell perfectly, the ease in his posture, and the quiet arrogance of someone untouchable.
"Oh my, what a surprise," He snickered, tone laced with utter amusement.
You hurriedly turned to face the dusty tile below, the creature behind chanting its last grumbles before vanishing into blown ashes amidst the bitter wind.
...I’ve gotta be dreaming. There’s no other way.
What else could it have been? There was absolutely no way you could have taken all this in within mere minutes.
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Thought and instinct blurred together, and somehow, you found yourself walking beside the stranger. He called himself Gojo Satoru, though the name slid past you like static. You only knew one thing. You needed to get away from this, from him, from everything. The world felt muffled, your thoughts crashing over one another in a haze of noise. Then, cutting through it all, his voice broke the air—low, deliberate—a question you couldn’t even comprehend.
"You saw that curse, right?”
Curse?
"Whatever that was? Uh, yeah," You replied, slightly stammering over your words.
"Have you been seeing them often?"
"No, this is my first."
You stopped walking, heart racing at how he might respond to what you would say next.
"Look, I just wanna go home. My mom's probably worried sick for me."
"Your mother?" He questioned, tilting his head almost as if he was surprised at the mention of the word.
You shot him a wary side glance, suspicion tightening your brow. Whatever went on in that guy’s head, you wanted no part of it. Adults trailing teenagers after dark were bad enough—but ones who could punt a flying monkey into hell? Yeah, that spelt a whole new level of trouble.
The man walked silently along the neighbourhood sidewalk, following your lead, much to your dismay.
"You can't just run away from what just happened. Your life might be in danger, and honestly, I wouldn't let you off the hook that easily. The fact that you can see them means they’ll come after you sooner or later."
The lighthearted tone that had once hinted at his demeanour darkened, each word dipping lower, heavier.
"And I won’t always be there to help you. Matter of fact…"
Before you could notice the swift motion of his hand, Gojo suddenly reached towards your back. Shock jolted through you as you hastily flinched, twisting away, only to freeze when you saw what he held. The tiny, grotesque, fly-like creature writhed for an instant before bursting apart into a spray of violet blotches, dissolving into thin air. The lingering crushing weight on your chest from the last few weeks immediately lifted, leaving you breathless.
You glared at him, teeth gritted. Doubt burned behind your eyes. You definitely couldn’t run from him. Not when what he could do was nothing short of supernatural, and what you were seeing was further indication of the underlying truth in his sceptical words.
Damn it. The hell did I do in my last life to end up here?
Sighing, you finally let yourself give in as your scattered thoughts settled after a few minutes of tension.
"Okay, you do have a point. I’ll listen to what you have to say. But what are you planning to do now?" You asked, furrowing your brows as your migraine pounded behind your eyes.
Almost as if rehearsed, Gojo slipped into the role of your overenthusiastic history teacher, and you could swear he was enjoying it a little too much.
"There are others like you who can see curses,” He whistled, pulling on his blindfold with amusement.
“Curses are creatures that manifest negative human emotions like regret and anger. They can harm other people, so those who can see them...
With a dramatic lift of his hands, as if surrendering to a kindergarten student, he finished,
"Exterminate them!"
You frowned at him. Why is he treating me like a kid?
"Those who do that are called Jujutsu Sorcerers. I'm one myself, and we have a school dedicated to training others like you to fight curses."
Putting two and two together, you finally caught on to what he was suggesting.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you seriously suggesting I join your shady school out of nowhere? Even start-up idol scouts have more credibility than…”
You gestured vaguely toward his entire being.
“Whatever this is.”
You didn’t want any of this. Your eyes drifted toward the nearby park, dim and quiet beneath the streetlights.
"Do I even have a choice?"
Gojo looked at you—not as a child anymore, but as a pitiful human caught up in something far bigger than you could understand. In his mind, you were an anomaly. People were usually born with cursed energy, or none at all. It was rare, almost unheard of, for someone to suddenly develop cursed sight.
“Well…” He smiled, half-apologetic, half-playful.
“No, not really.”