Archive of Our Own ^beta

I'm not really sure how I expected my first day to go, but as I followed my new friend from chemistry class to the cafeteria, I remember thinking that college might actually be fun. 

Looking back, I’m wondering if my optimism was closer to self-deception.

The cafeteria was crowded: students were filing in line for food and chatting comfortably at the large round tables. They all looked fashionable in their long skirts, their oversized sweatshirts, and those smart button-ups. Or maybe that was just my insecurities talking. 

The clinking of dishes and chairs was sort of grounding. I followed Yuki to an empty table, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. She tossed her bag on a chair and made a beeline for the queue. I dropped by backpack on an adjacent seat, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. I copied her again: grabbing a clean tray and perusing the colorful food displays. I ordered haltingly from a lunch lady with bright pink glasses, and as she handed me my food, she gave me a reassuring smile. First days always stressed me out, and at the time, all I could do was grimace back. 

Yuki and I traversed back through the human jungle, laden with trays full of side dishes and tea. I almost ran into a stone pillar, but I don’t think anyone noticed. I think.

Yuki glanced at my tray as we took our seats and pouted. “Oh, your food smells so good! I should’ve gotten the katsudon!”

I gestured at her curry. “Want to share half and half?”

She perked up. “Really?”

I then began the arduous process of placing slices of deep-fried pork into her bowl, praying my hands weren’t noticeably shaking. She in turn tilted her bowl to share, but part of it spilled out onto the table. 

“Ugh, I wanted to do that more elegantly,” she complained, trying to wipe it off with a napkin. 

I gave a nervous chuckle. “It’s ok. It looks more creative.” 

My awkward optimism really knew no bounds that day, but she just giggled and threw the dirty napkin on her tray.

Thank you, Yuki, and your high capacity for idiocy.

As we dug in, she tilted her head at me. “You said your name was Koharu, right? 

I hummed. “Yeah, it's Koharu, and yours is...Yuki, right?" 

She nodded. “So, Koharu-san, where are you from?”

"I’m from northern Tokyo. You might not know the name,” I admitted. 

“Oh, the suburbs?” she asked. At my nod, she said, “Oh, that’s cool. I’m from western Tokyo. I technically grew up in the suburbs, but we moved to the city when I was really young, so I don’t really remember what they were like...”

I took a small bite of food, relishing the spice tingling on my tongue. “It's quiet. Not much happens.” 

Kid, I wish you could see yourself the way I do. 

I swallowed and continued, “I guess you could call it ‘peaceful’, but it used to drive me mad. I like the city better.”

She nodded in agreement. “For sure. There’s always a new restaurant to eat at or a new store to visit. I probably would’ve been bored out of my mind in the suburbs. Where would I find the nightlife? My daily intake of manga?” She waved her chopsticks at her expensive-looking lace top. “Fashion!”

I chuckled. “I mean, the suburbs doesn’t mean the boonies, but you have a point. It feels like you’re trapped in the past a bit while everyone else is moving forward.”

Sometimes I look at you, and it's just...

She started inhaling her pork, and I was worried that her long hair would fall into her bowl. “So that’s why you came to UTokyo? To get that city life?” she asked, chugging her iced tea.

“Sort of. I was initially really scared to come to the city.”

“Really?”

“Well…” I played with my rice. “The city seemed really dangerous. Staying at home sounded much safer.”

“Oh,” she said through mouthfuls of rice. “Yeah, understandable.”

“But, I really wanted to study neuroscience and I got a really good scholarship here and then my grandpa was all for it. He literally wants me out of the house anyway,” I scoffed, “so it just all happened at the right time.”

“Your grandpa sounds like a nice guy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I guess. He’s so annoying sometimes, but I love him. That’s family, right?”

Ah, kid, sometimes I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.

She smiled softly and to my relief, swept her hair back. “When I was little, my dad would always nag at me to do schoolwork. Stop reading manga all day. Stop buying so much!” She coughed. “Actually, he made some good complaints, but at the time, I didn’t really understand why he was so annoying. Now I know he was just looking out for me.” She shook her head good-naturedly. “Family can be so weird sometimes, but yeah, I love them too.”

“That’s so deep,” I said, meeting her gaze.

I could tell by the amused expression on her face that we were both thinking the same thing. We broke out into smiles and half-chuckles. 

"That's way too deep for, like, eleven in the morning. I still don't think I'm awake," she joked.

I felt a tingle over my skin, and my words got stuck in my throat. I tensed as hot waves of heatjudgmentfrustration rolled over my back.

“Koharu-san?”

Cursed energy.

I scanned the cafeteria but felt, rather than saw, the source of the energy as it entered the room: a tall Japanese student with messy black hair. He looked like a college student from afar, but he wore an all-black uniform with a ridiculously high collar. He surveyed the cafeteria, and when his eyes caught mine, my stomach dropped. 

Fuck.

I grabbed my bag and tray in a rush. “Sorry, Yuki-san, I remembered that I have to do something else. I’ll see you around!” 

“Oh—uh, ok. See you around!” 

I dumped my food in the closest bin and high-tailed down a flight of stairs in the opposite direction. As I shoved open the glass doors, the fresh air hit me with a warm welcome. But I wasn’t out of the danger zone yet. My sneakers squeaked against the sidewalk as I kept my senses out for other pockets of cursed energy. 

Through the panic, a loop of questions replayed over and over in my head: Why the fuck were they here now? Couldn't they have left me alone on my first day?

Farther and farther away from the cursed energy, I made my way to a large, empty pond surrounded by trees. I slowed down, finally letting myself look back.

Suddenly, a tall figure stepped in front of me, appearing out of nowhere. I leaped backward with a shriek, cataloging his black uniform, tall stature, and lilting smile in a split second. If I didn't recognize him by the black bandanna across his eyes, the stark white hair definitely raised the alarm.

Fuuuuuuck.

“Yuji Itadori?” Satoru Gojo asked.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—

I walked past him as if he didn't just appear out of thin air, but he somehow materialized a few feet in front of me. I jerked back, suddenly realizing that I wasn’t feeling anything from him.

He waved his hand in a wide arc. “Hi! Sorry, I don’t think you heard me before—” 

I spun around and headed right back to the cafeteria, but I saw the boy in black blocking the end of the road. 

—fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—

I was surrounded on both sides. My only choices were the tree-filled hill on my right and the algae-green pond on my left. I chose the hill, my sweaty backpack held tight to my back. 

Again, Gojo materialized in front of me. I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t even see an afterimage of him—he was that fast. 

“Maa, it seems that we may have scared you. I’m sorry. We only wish to talk,” he said with open arms. 

Like fuck they didn’t. 

I studied his open body language, analyzing his height against mine and trying to ignore the snake twirling up and squeezing my chest. I heard the shuffle of sneakers in the grass behind me. 

My voice came out strangely confident. “Yeah, following me like stalkers didn’t give off that impression at all.”

Gojo scratched the back of his head. “My apologies. We didn’t realize you were that sensitive to cursed energy. We usually would contact you more appropriately, say after class, but something urgent came up.” His eyeless gaze locked me in place. “I’m sure you know what I mean?”

I glanced back and saw the black-haired boy directly behind me, face blank. 

“No, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And you guys are really freaking me out right now.” I laughed harshly, “Is this a cult?”

“Maa, it does look like one, doesn’t it? Megumi-chan, don’t our uniforms look cultish?” Gojo commented.

He didn’t respond.

Gojo filled the silence good-naturedly. “My apologies for my student. He doesn’t get out much.”

The boy remained silent. But I hoped he was judging his mentor with a glare, like I was. 

I kept my face blank. “So, what? Are you or aren’t you a cult? Because I have things to do."

Gojo tucked his hands into his pant pockets. “Well, we’re from Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. My name is Satoru Gojo. I'm a teacher there. This is my student, Megumi Fushiguro. You are Yuji Itadori, correct?"

You know how people always want to meet their favorite characters? At that moment, all I could see was a foreboding trail of dead bodies behind them.

I forced the words out. “No, sorry. You have the wrong person.”

Gojo slapped his forehead. “Oh right! I’m sorry. You go by ‘Koharu’, right? You never changed your name officially, and I'm a forgetful old man. You’ll have to forgive me.”

I grimaced. This asshole was in his thirties at the oldest. And he looked through my records before this. Was that even legal?

“Look, what do you want with me? I have things to do,” I demanded.

Gojo sighed. “Young people these days—”

“We need your help.”

Fushiguro's voice was soft-spoken, firm.

I turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

Could they hear my heart pounding or was it just me?

Fushiguro eyed me coolly. “The school is deeply appreciative of your hard work behind the scenes.” His eyes flickered green and blue, ever-changing. I thought they’d be— “We know you requested that we maintain your anonymity, and we have protected your identity for years now. You know we wouldn’t have come without reason." He sighs. "The situation has changed.” A chill ran up my spine. “You’re in immediate danger.”

You’d think I’d swoon into their arms and let them carry me to safety. But all I could see was blood on my hands and the twisted monster I'd become.

I bit my lip. “Look, I know you wouldn’t come without reason, and you probably think you’re helping me. But I wrote in my stipulations: no direct contact ever. This is putting me further in danger, you know.”

“We’re truly sorry,” Fushiguro replied, and I can't tell if he really means it. “But you are in immediate danger. It's safer for us to escort you to a safer location and then share the intel. We’ll let you go home as soon as the coast is clear.”

That phrase raked against my skin like sandpaper: 'Let you go home.'

“And what happens if I say no?” I scoffed.

“Well, for your own safety and for the safety of everyone in the surrounding area, we have the authority to knock you out and take you with us.” Gojo laughed, “Just for a conversation though. Nothing too scary,” he said with a perfect customer service smile.

Thismotherfu—

“Fine. What about my classes today?”

“We told the school that you caught the flu. Dire circumstances, you understand,” Gojo answered jokingly.

I didn’t want to get knocked out. But I also didn’t want to go. But if everyone in the area was in danger, I should at least get out of the city.

“Fine,” I snapped. “You want me to come to your high school, right? Let’s just get this over with.” I marched down the sidewalk, leading the way to the nearest metro station. Like I had a choice in the first place.

Fushiguro and Gojo fell in line on my left and right, reminding me of a prisoner being escorted to their cell. 

“Great! We can just take the metro and transfer to a train. I’m sure you’ll love our campus. There are a ton of trees and old buildings!” Gojo exclaimed. 

Standing next to me was the most powerful man in existence, and I couldn’t sense a thing from him. Fushiguro's cursed energy was like a warm pan on the stove, but Gojo wasn’t even in the kitchen. He blended in with the pedestrians, like any other guy on the street.

My stomach churned. 

“Great,” I managed.

Fushiguro was quiet as we entered the busy main street.

“I mean, you did come to the city for schooling, so old stuff may not be your thing. You must’ve had tons of that in your old neighborhood, right?”

Was Gojo trying to say that he knew where I lived? Was he trying to intimidate me? Was he threatening Grandpa?

He continued as if I had responded, “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try this kikufuku from that area. It’s pretty popular, ya know.”

I couldn’t hear the patter of pedestrians or even the beeps of the turnstiles. It all fell away amidst the presence of cursed energy. Or rather, the faint veneer of cursed energy from one of them. I walked a little faster.

“I have to say, I enjoy your energy. I must be getting old, right, Fushiguro?”

We cruised down the stairs, and as they swiped their cards for the fare, I kept myself from cackling hysterically. Jujutsu sorcerers owning PASMO cards. What a day.

At my blatant stare, Fushiguro furrowed his brows.

“You guys don’t—I don’t know—teleport to school or something?” I blurted out. 

Fushiguro stared at me blankly. Maybe he thought I was stupid.

Good.

“Maa, well, teleporting is a nice perk, but my cute little student here isn’t advanced enough.”

Was Gojo pulling my leg? I’m 99% certain that teleporting wasn’t possible for sorcerers, unless you were...Satoru Gojo. 

The spindly man led us to the platform, like a mother duck leading her brood. I took deep breaths, trying desperately to relax.

It was almost funny. I was wearing a pale yellow sweatshirt, dark jeans, and white sneakers for my first meeting with these two. But my hair was a respectable black. Like hell would I have dyed my hair any shade of pink.

Immediately, two sleek subway trains zoomed in on both sides of the platform, opening their doors simultaneously. I obediently shuffled into a car behind Gojo and grimaced. The air felt stale. Gojo took a seat while Fushiguro remained standing next to me. I grabbed a handle next to the door and sighed, looking at the other passengers: A couple. An old grandpa. A trio of adults. The doors behind me started to close.

Game time. 

My sneakers screeched as I swerved and pushed against the floor. For a moment, I was flying across the platform and the air was rushing past my face and my heart was soaring. My sneakers squeaked as I slid into the subway car on the opposite side of the platform, just as the doors clicked shut behind me.

I was panting, hands on my knees, as I grinned.

I did it! Go weird-ass strength!

Then everything went black.

I guess I should've known better than to challenge the strongest sorcerer of the modern-day. But, ya know, I just wanted a normal first day. Was that really too much to ask for?