Chapter Text
A familiar blank void greeted Yuuta as he stepped inside Tengen’s dwelling. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the change in exposure, and his gaze landed on a figure standing in the middle of the chamber with their arms crossed, like they had been anticipating his arrival.
It was Tengen.
If Tengen was expecting him, it made sense now how easy it was to choose the correct door to enter the Tombs of the Star. It was an odd feeling, like a magnetic tug on the very fibres of his being.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” Yuuta called out, “Tengen-sama.”
The moment Yuuta had entered the outermost barrier surrounding Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, he was sure he immediately set off some kind of alarm. However, he had quickly made his way into the depths of the forest, and down into the Tombs of the Star before he could be confronted, knocking out, with muttered apologies, Tengen’s attendants by the entrance and further inside.
They looked remarkably more human compared to the Tengen of his future. His brain promptly supplied him some knowledge, dredging up something he had learned ages ago in a lesson on the modern history of Jujutsu, taught by a window with time to spare because Gojo-sensei never had the time in his schedule for long dreary general theory classes – the failed merger of 2006. Yuuta distantly wondered, with a bout of sympathy, how it felt to start to take the appearance of a curse, to leave the last of your humanity behind. But then, what about all those young girls that were sacrificed? The Star Plasma Vessels, they deserved to have fulfilling lives, happy lives full of love as well, they didn’t deserve to live for the sole purpose of being used.
He cleared his head. He was getting sidetracked.
Tengen’s hair flowed down their shoulders in a lengthy river of alabaster, matching the robes draped across their body. They crossed their arms, sternly set expression betraying nothing, and Yuuta let himself be picked apart under the intensity of their composed, piercing gaze.
“Hm. If you were not welcome, I would have made that clear before you even stepped foot inside my barriers,” Tengen spoke, and their eyes narrowed, not out of suspicion, but as if they were piecing together the last bits of a convoluted puzzle. “So tell me, descendant of Michizane, why are you here? You do not belong.”
Here – in this timeline.
Yuuta smiled wryly, and whether it was out of reflex or relief, he didn’t know. “You are correct. I’m not supposed to be here.”
He bowed deeply, clutching his hands together in his lap tightly like an unconscious prayer. “As for why… I don’t know that myself. That’s why I require your help, any help I can get, Tengen-sama.”
His hands tightened, remembering a promise, the destruction of Shibuya, Kenjaku.
“Please. The future is at stake.”
“No cursed techniques?” Gojo clicked his tongue as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, lumbering over to the middle of the field to stand at a good distance across from Yuuta. He shrugged, easily accepting after having taken a moment to complain. “Booring. Ha, well, it’s not like I need mine to win.”
The two of them had migrated to the training field, the low hanging sun casting a warm, tranquil glow across the grass. Yuuta had placed his sword bag by the bleachers. It would only be fair to go hand-to-hand, and he decided it was a good idea to go without techniques as well. He didn’t want to get an earful from Yaga for property destruction the first day into the year.
He also had no reason to reveal his technique, not yet, particularly not Rika, especially not to Gojo of all people. Yuuta wondered why Gojo wanted a spar in the first place.
Yuuta humoured him, “I don’t doubt that. You are Gojo Satoru.”
Gojo tilted his head, staring at Yuuta calculatingly, before he curled his lip and rolled his eyes. “Duh. Looks like someone did their research, huh? Thought you were from a boring old non-sorcerer family like that other dude.”
“I’ve experienced jujutsu society for a much longer time than Geto-kun has,” Yuuta shook his head, and stretched out his arms, less warming his muscles up for the spar and more so keeping himself preoccupied. “You know, he only arrived a couple days ago. You could stand to be a little kinder to him.”
“Bleh. I didn’t come here to get lectured,” Gojo dismissed, hands still in his pockets as he observed Yuuta’s warm ups with an uninterested eye. He then pouted, Yuuta noted with fascination, “I bet that guy is probably the rudest little fuck ever, but he just won’t show that side around you. Ew. Hey, how did you do it? How did you get in his good graces?”
Geto, rude? Yuuta thought about it for a bit, before shaking his head. It was fruitless. He couldn’t imagine Geto as anything other than that polite teenage boy who offered to cook for two in the mornings, his soft manner of speech, and his easy, light banter.
It’s been becoming increasingly easy to separate the young Geto from the man Yuuta met during the Parade. Yuuta wasn’t sure what to make of that fact.
Yuuta also elected to not mention that Gojo had been treating him and Geto like they were two peas in a distinctly curse-shaped pod. And the fact that Gojo seemed to think that Geto enjoyed it that way, being right next to Yuuta as that little pea. Which, Yuuta highly doubted. Yuuta did try to be nice to him and then Geto was nice back, sure, but wasn’t that the bare minimum for an interaction? Oh, but Gojo existed in general, so maybe it wasn’t.
“Um, I didn’t do anything? At least, I don’t think so. I’ve only known him for a few days, really, I doubt he thinks much of me at all,” Yuuta denied abashedly, “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Gojo-kun…”
Gojo raised an eyebrow. He made a point to look Yuuta up and down with disbelief, except Yuuta couldn’t really pick up on the aforementioned point.
“Okay, whatever you say,” snorted Gojo, which made Yuuta feel a little insulted for an unknown reason.
Well, if Gojo enjoyed talking about Geto behind Geto’s back so much, maybe he should try befriending him. Yuuta vocalised this, but with more tact, “Why don’t you try to at least get along with him a little? Geto-kun, that is. It’s okay if it’s only small steps,” he offered lightly despite already seeing Gojo’s blunt rejection coming from a mile away.
Gojo faked a gag, “No thanks. I don’t befriend curses. Do you see him? He’s literally like,” he twirled a hand incomprehensibly, “that.”
“I don’t really understand,” Yuuta tilted his head. If that was the case Gojo was making, then what was the line between Geto and Yuuta? Was it that Gojo didn’t see Yuuta as more curse than human, like he did with Geto? But honestly, Yuuta believed that Gojo didn’t genuinely think that anyway, not fully – and he just hoped the two of them could resolve their misgivings soon. “...Geto-kun seems nice. He’s more than his cursed technique, Gojo-kun.”
At this, Gojo faltered for a brief moment, but a blink later and it was like it never happened. He scoffed, “You’re not much better than him, so get off your high horse.”
Yuuta winced. There it was. He had thought they were getting along too well.
Silence crawled between them the way a line of ants inched their way along a wide stretch of pavement.
Gojo glared at the grass, then at the sky, and ruffled his hair roughly. He added, “You’re not like Geto, though. With him, it’s like… his whole essence just reeks of cursed spirits. It’s disgusting. Gives me the creeps. He’s also annoying, and a bitch, he doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. So that’s that. End of story.”
Yuuta frowned, unsure what to make of both the flimsy consolation and reasoning. That definitely wasn’t all of it, but he knew it wasn’t his place to meddle. Even though he probably was going to meddle sometime in the future. He conceded, “If you say so.”
“Enough pleasantries, it’s getting boring,” Gojo flapped a hand, like he could physically wave away the conversation they were having. “Hand-to-hand, no techniques. I trust you’re not an idiot who needs me to explain the other basic rules of sparring to you?”
Gojo was rather ruthless with his words. In a way, it was endearing, seeing a more immature, blithe side of his teacher that he hadn’t grown out of yet.
“I’m familiar, don’t worry,” reassured Yuuta. He shifted his stance ever so slightly, resting his weight on the balls of his feet, falling into a loose readied position with familiarity.
Gojo glanced over him. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
In a single beat, they locked eyes, and Yuuta made the first move.
He had learned that it was always good to take the initiative when you could.
He swiftly closed the distance in a flash, bringing his fist up to swing at Gojo’s unprotected face. Gojo, for a very brief, fleeting moment, sported a slightly surprised expression at witnessing his speed, but rapidly acclimated, dodging Yuuta’s hit by a hairsbreadth.
Gojo’s eyes burned a cold, blazing azure, and his lips twitched up. His hands had left his pockets the moment Yuuta leapt. “You’re fast.”
Yuuta smiled as he aimed a high kick at Gojo’s side, to which Gojo deflected easily with his forearm, and he replied, “Ah, it’s nothing.”
As they exchanged blows, Gojo had started to make forward attacks of his own, instead of simply blocking or dodging Yuuta’s – something Yuuta recognised from Gojo’s adult self that was likely his way of measuring up his opponent’s skill. A small ember of satisfaction curled in his gut as Gojo narrowed his eyes, and started taking Yuuta seriously, even though Yuuta wasn’t exerting his full strength.
He was the acclaimed Gojo Satoru, after all, the honoured one between heaven and earth. A blessed child prodigy with a prideful ego. Call it sentimentality, but Yuuta felt that soft crick in his heart expand – perhaps he should take a loss, plus, it was no good to put himself any further on Gojo’s radar.
“Whatcha thinking so deeply about?” Gojo lunged at Yuuta, and Yuuta ducked down, and Gojo struck out with his leg, to which Yuuta leapt back. Gojo followed him. “I’m a bit disappointed your full attention isn’t on me. Not everyday you get to fight someone like me, y’know.”
“Sorry,” Yuuta apologised automatically as he clocked back into the present, dancing around Gojo’s jabs. Gojo simply huffed and knocked away Yuuta’s incoming kick, which was a bit more half-hearted than Yuuta had intended for it to be.
Gojo’s offense grew more aggressive, like he was looking for something. A reaction, maybe. Yuuta only let himself be crowded back.
Yuuta glimpsed, with some detached fascination, Gojo-sensei peeking through some of the slivers of Gojo’s movements. Gojo still had a long way to go, of course, but as Yuuta predicted yet another one of his actions, the familiar way he ducked back to face him side-on with a raised arm, Yuuta found himself lost in his head once more.
And it was with that one split second of hesitation that Gojo took the opportunity to grab Yuuta’s wrist and pull him forward so that Yuuta’s shoulder was flush with Gojo’s chest. At this, Yuuta found himself at a loss, somewhat, because he had, along the way, assumed that Gojo either disliked directly touching anyone because of how often he activated Infinity outside of combat.
They both halted, a mutual stalemate, a reciprocated lapse in their fight. Gojo's scowling face looked down at Yuuta, the setting sun behind casting an ethereal glow to his snowy white hair like a halo. He looked a bit like a dandelion with his hair this short, Yuuta thought.
Gojo’s grasp tightened around his wrist, and the sensation of his bare fingers against his skin felt all too strange compared to the objectively stranger feeling of being subjected to an invisible barrier.
Yuuta’s jaw unstuck to try, “...Gojo-kun?–”
Gojo, seeming awfully lost and irate in one, demanded, “Why are you holding back?”
Yuuta’s brain stuttered.
“Are you underestimating me? Because I can’t think of any other reason you would hold back on me. You know, Gojo Satoru? I saw how you had pulled back your cursed energy. I saw how you let me land hits you could’ve dodged entirely, I saw how you slowed your punches before impact, I can see everything,” Gojo ranted, ending with such conviction that, if Yuuta didn’t know any better, he could have been easily convinced that Gojo truly could see everything. Gojo went on with all the momentum of a broken dam, or the explosion of a dying star, or honestly more accurately the fiery energy of white-hot stardust bunching up within the centre of a nebula, “I don’t know what you’re so damn scared of, or if you for some stupid reason think I can’t handle what you can dish out, but one thing I’m sure of is that I’ve had enough of it. We’re going again, and this time, you’re going to fight me with everything you’ve got. You have what it takes to match me. Stop getting lost in your head and focus on the present. Focus on me. Get it?”
Yuuta’s mouth had dropped sometime throughout Gojo’s angry tirade, and when he had finally finished and ended on a deep inhale of breath, Yuuta couldn’t help himself as he let out a laugh.
Gojo twitched, looking like a startled cat, and that made Yuuta giggle harder.
“The fuck,” Gojo stepped away and let him go, leaving them standing facing each other. “Are you– why are you laughing at me?”
“No,” Yuuta wiped the corner of his eye, meeting Gojo’s gaze. “Not at you. Just–”
Gojo’s face had pinkened with embarrassment, his glasses askew where they sat on his nosebridge. Yuuta took in these small details, absolutely endeared, and said fondly, “I forget you’re just a kid.”
After everything that will happen. After Shibuya, after the Prison Realm. I’m glad that you could let loose during your teenage years. After your childhood, which was bound to be full of hardships, as a clan-raised weapon of destruction and glory, as the honoured child born with both Limitless and Six Eyes. I’m happy you can snap at people and be so full of yourself and do whatever you want, it’s delightful.
Gojo-sensei, I’m glad you and Geto Suguru became best friends. That he became your one and only, in your lonely world. And even if I have to tear down this future in the process, for you, I’ll make sure Geto never strays down the wrong path.
Gojo looked at him oddly, and Yuuta couldn’t fault him for it. Gojo muttered, “What? What are you even talking about? You’re so weird.”
“I get that a lot,” Yuuta beamed. Gojo squinted and backed away from him.
“I’m grown, thanks. A kid? You just called me a kid,” Gojo complained. “Aren’t we literally the same age?”
Yuuta shook his head. “I’m seventeen, actually. I was scouted a bit late.”
The official cover story was that Yuuta had spent the whole of last year studying abroad, so he couldn’t attend first year as a fifteen year old. But, like usual with sorcerers, it was always better late than never, so when he arrived back in Japan, he got placed in first year. And Yuuta was slowly warming up to Yaga’s decision of not putting him in second year. It was rather fun to tease Gojo.
Gojo tilted his head to the side. “Okay then. Wow, you’re like, old. I hope you don’t expect me to treat you with more respect just ‘cause you’re one foot closer to your grave. Should I just expect the unexpected from you at all times at this point?”
“Good idea!”
“Duly noted,” Gojo enunciated slowly with a raised eyebrow. “So. Again?”
Yuuta nodded, taking a few steps back. “Again,” he smiled, shelving away all his worries and spiralling thoughts for another time, “I won’t go easy on you this time, Gojo-kun.”
“I’d hope so, or else I really will kick your ass into tomorrow,” griped Gojo.
“Scary,” laughed Yuuta.
Yuuta curled his fingers, sliding a foot back. Gojo widened his stance and bent slightly at the knees.
They darted forwards with matching bursts of speed to meet at the middle.
No holding back. With that determined glint in his irritated eyes, he had sounded more like Gojo-sensei than ever. Or, maybe Yuuta should stop thinking of them as entirely different people. They were one in the same, just like how Geto-kun was one in the same as Geto Suguru – like how the fruit blossom of an apple and the apple itself seemed awfully different, but the foundational fact was that they grew from a singular stem all the same. Gojo may not be the man Yuuta knew as his sensei, but he will be one day, and that shouldn’t make him different in any way that mattered.
It happened in an instant, as Yuuta stopped reigning his strength in and lets his years of training take over in something nearly akin to autopilot – he saw Gojo’s eyes widening a fraction and an exhilarated-shocked-awed expression bloom on his face – and Yuuta swept Gojo’s legs out underneath him as Gojo miscalculated the feint Yuuta darted in with, taking him by that crucial moment of surprise, and then with a quick burst of power, he had Gojo pinned to the ground with a knee settled atop his sternum. Or he would, if a thin layer of Infinity wasn’t separating them in what seemed like an unconscious activation with a flash of glowing blue irises.
“I thought we agreed on no cursed techniques?” Yuuta asked playfully, studying Gojo’s young, young face.
Gojo stared up at him, face bare as Yuuta had somehow in the process knocked his glasses off, eyes wide. In his usually untouchable, unreadable expression, Yuuta saw an orbit knocked off course, an unnatural tilt of the Earth’s axis, ozone breaching the middling atmosphere and drifting too close to land. Maybe this was good, too, to remind Gojo that he wasn’t alone where he floated aimlessly as Jujutsu’s hailed god among men. Because Yuuta had long resigned himself into falling into his teacher’s footsteps, and slotting into his shadow was as easy as it came because that was where he belonged, and Gojo Satoru, you are only a child.
Yuuta felt his cursed energy lick and ripple, saw Gojo’s ever-observant eyes lock in on it and widen even more, and Yuuta gave him a close-eyed smile. “Did you find what you were looking for, Gojo-kun?”
Gojo blinked slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe. No,” he breathed, a realisation, “but I came close to it.”
Fizz bubbled over the opening of the can as Gojo cracked its lid open and took a swig. His eyes, hidden once again behind dark shades, crinkled slightly as he smacked his mouth and frowned, “Eugh. Strawberry sodas never taste good.”
The vending machine was a small prism of bursting bright colours compared to the traditional sprawling architecture of the school. Yuuta had been the one to suggest getting a drink, and to his surprise, Gojo had actually accepted with nothing but another slow blink of those intense sky-blue eyes and a quiet agreement. Though, when they arrived, Gojo had pushed in front of Yuuta and paid for the drinks himself, and no number of objections dissuaded him.
“Why did you buy one?” Yuuta smoothed a thumb over his own drink, a chilled oolong tea, disturbing the droplets of condensation running down the sides of the bottle.
“Thought I might change my mind,” Gojo replied flippantly, downing another gulp regardless with a shrug. He leaned his shoulder on the vending machine. “Was wrong. This stuff always tastes like medicine.”
Gojo mellowed out a little since their spar, and Yuuta was unsure if it was because he was worn out from it or perhaps for some other reason, but Yuuta was at least glad that he could have a somewhat regular interaction with him that didn’t comprise of solely snarky remarks from Gojo’s end.
Yuuta unscrewed the cap and took a small sip despite not feeling all that thirsty in the first place. The mild floral sweetness of the oolong was nice and soothing, but nothing more. He preferred jasmine tea.
He tapped an uneven rhythm on the bottle, and finally let out the question that had been eating away at him for the past twenty minutes, “Gojo-kun, can I ask why you wanted to spar?”
Gojo paused at the question. He hummed with his mouth resting on the lip of his can, one hand in his pocket. “Why, huh,” he mumbled, looking up at the clear sky. “How do I put this… Okkotsu, you’re not exactly good at acting like a normal person.”
Yuuta shifted, head turning towards Gojo. “Hm?”
“It’s pretty easy to notice, if you’re anything like me,” Gojo rolled his neck with a flutter of ivory eyelashes, knowing that no one in the world was like him. “How you hold yourself. How you fight. You must be used to being treated that way too. Not as a regular sorcerer. Or person, at that. You’re not just a student, are you?”
Gojo wasn’t too far from the truth. He was more than a student. He was from the future. And perhaps Gojo felt that he could share a modicum of kinship with Yuuta, that level you reach where you brush the top and the realisation no one else could stand on the same plane as you, but Yuuta couldn’t possibly say he understood, not entirely, not ever. And Gojo wasn’t saying that, either. Gojo Satoru was Gojo Satoru, and that was all, and nobody else was allowed close simply by the laws of the universe.
Maybe their kindred, lost souls came together to dwell over their similar circumstances, except Yuuta was the only lost one here really, because Gojo was right where he belonged even if he had no place to belong other than the top. Yuuta wouldn’t dare to believe he understood more than a crumb of how it was for Gojo.
“Is that what you think?” Yuuta wondered, gaze drifting to the orange-tinged sky, answering a question with a question.
“Well, I have my theories,” Gojo waved the hand holding his drink, a splash of his carbonated strawberry soda escaping the confines of the can. The concrete happily absorbed the splatter of liquid. “Anyways, I can tell you’ve got some shit going on, but it’s not any of my business. I guess you could say I was testing you. Your abilities. Something like that.”
“I see,” Yuuta replied.
A moment passed between them as the words sunk in, and Yuuta thought, with satisfaction, that he had gotten to know Gojo a little better beyond that cocky bravado he put up.
Then a smirk creeped onto Gojo’s face, and he leaned in. “But just because it’s not any of my business doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying! So? Have I unlocked the prerequisites for the story quest? Is today the day I’m gonna learn the backstory behind that ring?”
Yuuta smiled at him. “No.”
When Yuuta headed back to the dorms, after Gojo dallied off again to wherever he went to spend time when the end of the day approached, he had run into Geto in the hallway. Geto waved at him in greeting, eyes roving over Yuuta with concern, and he had asked, “Everything okay?”
It may not be yet, and maybe everything wasn’t okay at the moment, it could be in the future. Yuuta nodded, didn’t let the contradictory mix of uncertainty and contentment churning in his gut show on his face, and replied, “Yeah. Everything’s okay.”
He wasn’t sure what time it was. What he did know was that it was definitely way past a reasonable hour to be awake, and definitely way before he needed to be up and awake. The kettle hissed, brought to a bubbling boil, and Yuuta poured himself a cup of green tea. The cheap stuff, teabags lined up in a small box.
It was less wanting to drink tea, and more craving the warmth it brought.
“Tea, at this hour?”
Yuuta jumped. He turned around, and saw Geto standing in the doorway to the kitchen, groggily massaging an eye. “Geto-kun. What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same,” said Geto in response, leaning on the doorframe.
Yuuta traced over the warm handle of his cup. The cup itself was too hot to the touch to handle. “...I can’t sleep. It’s nothing new.”
Geto hummed, his gaze skimming over Yuuta’s undereyes. With a sudden pang of self-consciousness, Yuuta lifted a hand to prod underneath his eye – his dark circles had gotten worse over the past month. He remembered looking into the mirror, at his pale face, at his purple eyebags, and he wanted to tear his hair out.
“Are you okay, Okkotsu?” Geto had moved closer, standing next to him by the counter. “Did… something happen with Gojo?”
“Oh, no,” Yuuta shook his head softly. “Everything is fine with Gojo. He just wanted to spar.”
“Spar?” Geto parroted. He sounded more concerned than before, if anything, “Are you sure nothing happened? Are you hurt?”
Yuuta didn’t know why Geto worried over him like he did. He didn’t understand it.
“I’m fine,” he replied, and it came out more clipped than he would have liked it to, and it made Geto shrink back a little. Guilt built up in his chest. “Sorry, Geto-kun. I’m sorry. I’m just…”
“Tired,” Geto finished for him.
If only that was all.
Yuuta nodded.
He exhaled, and offered a tentative smile. “Sorry. You didn’t answer earlier, why are you awake?”
Geto’s hair looked silky smooth under the fluorescent overhead lights, loose and tumbling past his shoulders and ending at his collarbone. He tapped a finger on the counter. “Can’t really sleep, either. I guess I’m feeling a little homesick.”
“I would imagine,” Yuuta said. “Do you miss them? Your family?”
A pause.
“Yeah. I do,” Geto said softly, sounding a little far away, “but… at the same time, I’m glad to be away from them.”
Familiarity stirred in Yuuta’s chest. His family shuddering at the heavy presence of Rika, who only he could see, only he knew about. An invisible force destroying the kitchen, sending plates and cups and bowls crashing to the floor in a porcelain fury, hiccuping sobs and gasps and pleading for Rika to stop it please they’re family Rika they’re family.
The fear in his mother’s eyes, quiet resignation in his father’s, and confused terror in his sister’s. The realisation that, maybe Yuuta was insane for seeing all this, that no one else could.
Maybe it was the tranquility of midnight, or the bitter herbal aroma wafting from his tea calming his nerves, or the quiet solemn look in Geto’s eyes, that prompted Yuuta to say, “It was lonely, wasn’t it?”
It was lonely, thinking you were the only one who could see those grotesque things that lingered in every shadowed crevice.
Geto blinked, turning to Yuuta. His eyes flickered. “Yeah,” he said, “it was.”
“There is little hope for you to return to your original timeline.”
Out of all of the complicated winding explanations and theories Tengen had given him, those specific words echoed around uselessly in his head. He couldn’t go back? But, he needed to. He was needed. Who was he, if not the protector of his loved ones? Who was he, if he didn’t put his life on the line for others? Who was he, if not the executioner of every curse he’s told to exorcise like a good loyal canine?
His body felt so heavy. His limbs felt as if they were made of molten tar, dragging and overheating and yet he felt ice cold and hollow, like someone had taken a carving knife and emptied out his soul.
There is little hope for you to return to your original timeline. There is little hope for you to return. There is little hope.
There is little hope for you.
…What was he supposed to do, then?
“Okkotsu-kun?”
Yaga’s voice snapped him out of his trance. He looked up. “Yaga-san, sorry. What was that?”
Yaga, lacking his distinctive sunglasses and only a teacher, stared at Yuuta with pressed lips. If he looked harder, maybe he could have seen the pity in his eyes, but Yuuta didn’t care to. He was so, so tired.
The last time he had felt this tired was when he was sitting in that godforsaken talisman-lined execution room as the higher-ups had sent sorcerer after sorcerer day after day after his life, until he finally had enough and picked up that small knife someone had dropped off from the flap of the door and tried to stab himself right through the heart to finally end it all–
“What are you going to do now?”
Rika had twisted the metal of the blade into a tight knot.
Sensei arrived the day after, and taught him how to live.
He had to live, at least. That was the least he could do to honour the friends he left behind. Maybe he could fix the future. Make sure Kenjaku’s plan never goes through. He could figure out how exactly later.
Despite his thoughts, he said, “I… don’t know.”
“That’s what I thought,” Yaga exhaled deeply, rubbing his mouth. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward in his seat. “Your case is an especially sensitive one, and only select staff will be notified of this alongside the higher-ups. Tengen-sama themself approved of your presence on campus, so you won’t have to worry about the technicalities, or explaining yourself to the upper-brass, though you will have to have a meeting with them soon. A temporary identity, along with any relevant paperwork and documentation can be put in place for you. Ahem, aside from all that… I have a proposition for you.”
Yuuta stayed silent.
Yaga continued, “How would you like to attend Jujutsu Technical College?”