Chapter Text
In all honesty, you were entirely out of your element. Warm sun was beating down on your head and shoulders like an unwelcome blanket, and everything was so bright that it was almost glowing. Around you, clusters of people chatted amongst themselves as they went about their morning commutes. Cars puttered by, and you could smell something sweet wafting out of a nearby bakery. Everything was vibrant and alive. All in all, it would have been a pleasant morning, if it weren’t for the fact that you were severely jetlagged while trying to navigate the streets of Tokyo alone for the first time in your life. Yes, you had passed the N2 without experiencing true immersion. Unfortunately, that made it incredibly jarring to be completely surrounded by the language for the very first time. Back in the states, it was more like you would pull Japanese from a space in the back of your mind whenever you needed to use it. Now, it very much needed to be the language at the forefront of your mind, and it wasn’t quite there yet at 8am with a seven hour jetlag.
More and more people came to stand around you while you waited for the streetlight to change. It was all terribly mundane. Most were staring at their phones, although two individuals stood out to you. To your left there was a tall, skinny boy with a shock of petal-pink hair on top of his head. He was standing next to a brown-haired girl who gave off a positively terrifying aura, and looked like she was one ill-spoken word away from knocking the boy onto his ass. Without really thinking about it, you tried to listen in on their conversation. It was in Japanese, so you began to fidget as you focused.
Now, for you, fidgeting looked a little unusual. You visualized three tiny spheres of white energy coming from the center of your chest- each one about the size of a ball bearing. Then, because they were imaginary spheres, you caused them to float between your fingers in lazy, winding motions as you thought. The gesture was somewhat similar to pulling a string of beads through your fingers, except the string was invisible and the beads were imaginary spheres of light. Nobody else could ever see them, but your imagination had always been vivid enough to allow you to feel them, and that was how you ended up with this unusual but harmless fidget.
That being said, the two strangers must have noticed your eavesdropping. As soon as you pulled the spheres from your chest, their conversation drew to a halt. You tentatively paused your ministrations to glance up at them, and terror immediately lanced your gut as you caught both of them staring at you with a hawk-like focus. Across the street, the light changed. You dispersed the beads and crossed hastily. Upon reaching the other side of the street, you noticed that the boy and the girl were quickly making their way towards you. Nope. Absolutely not. You couldn’t handle a confrontation in your second language at 8am going on about forty-eight hours of no sleep with severe jetlag. Honestly, you thought you might die. Maybe you were already dead. The only things tethering you to this reality were fifteen gallons of coffee and pure determination. Nope, instead you started speed-walking down the sidewalk.
After a block, you turned to look over your shoulder. The boy and the girl were moving even faster now, pushing through the crowd to get to you. You picked up the pace. Another glance told you that they, too, had picked up the pace. The woman’s face looked like murder. And I mean- you liked horror! Back in the states, you were always down to investigate abandoned buildings or use a ouija board with your friends, even if you didn’t believe in the stuff. But this woman- there was just something about her that radiated the feeling of pure, unadulterated terror. You broke into an all-out run. People dodged out of the way as you ran, and you got more than a few annoyed looks. Peeking behind you, your soul nearly left your body to find that your pursuers were still chasing you- and it looked like there were actually three of them. The pair from before were sprinting after you, and keeping pace at their sides was a boy with spiky black hair.
By now, you were on the verge of tears. Absolutely nowhere in Marugoto did it indicate that eavesdropping was such a severe cultural taboo in Japan that it warranted a literal manhunt. Given that they were chasing you like their lives depended on it, you supposed that it was probably too late to apologize. Instead, you doubled down. You were just about at the end of the next block. Before crossing the street, you tossed your rolling suitcase to the side. Then, you delved into the crowd of commuters, and quickly removed your hat and jacket. You kept your head down, matched the pace of the people around you, and held your breath. After a few blocks, it seemed like you had really lost them. It’s a shame that you also lost your suitcase.
Despite your morning excitement (or perhaps because of it), you made it to the Tokyo Metropolitan University admissions office on time. There were quite a few other first-years lined up in the lobby, and so you fell into step with them. Although nobody had given you a second glance when you were in Tokyo proper, you definitely got a few curious stares now that you were somewhere that tourists shouldn’t be. Your heartbeat sped up, but you got through it. Actually, you smiled a bit. You had been waiting so long to be here, and it was starting to set in that you actually did it. Something warm bloomed in your chest, and you could feel it curl the edges of your smile. Look at you go.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. You met the other exchange students, and spoke with a lot of your future classmates. Ultimately, you were all sent back to the dorms at a reasonable hour because your jetlag was to be expected. The walk back was nice. The sun had started to set, and the entirety of Tokyo was bathed in a warm orange hue. The other exchange students talked excitedly among themselves, and there was just a really positive energy hanging in the air around you. It felt kind of like you could do anything. The dormitories were a set of four long, white buildings that were nestled into the trees. They were far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the city that you could hear nocturnal wildlife starting to wake up. Birds sang and insects trilled. The birdsong was entirely unfamiliar to you, and your heartbeat picked up again. How often in your life do you get to hear something that you’ve never heard before? You lagged behind the rest of the group a bit, far enough behind that you could hear the trees stirring as they prepared for bed. Your heart was full, and you were content.
Upon your arrival at the dorms, the international housing units actually had individual rooms. As such, you had some very welcome privacy. Some of your classmates stayed in the common area to chat, but you were dead on your feet, and you quickly made for your room. As soon as you arrived, you crossed the floor and face planted into your bed. The air was still, and you could already feel sleep starting to claim you. It was that heavy kind of sleep that reached for your brain like tendrils, and threatened to pull you down. Just as you started to hear the faint beginnings of a dream, there was a knock at your door.
You groggily sat up, and the world felt like it tilted on its axis. Then, rubbing at your eyes, you wandered to the door and opened it.
Standing there, as if they had every right to be where they were, were your pursuers from before. A black-haired boy with a serious expression stood to the left. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his all-black uniform, and his mouth was hidden behind a raised collar. To the right was the brown-haired girl. She still looked like she was wanted for murder in at least three prefectures. Before them, front and center, was the boy with pink hair. He was standing close enough to you now that you could also see his big brown eyes. Of your stalkers, he was the only one that was smiling. He opened his mouth to speak.
You closed the door and barred it. There was a pause, and then chaos. You heard a hollow thwack.
“Idiot!” the woman was yelling, “don’t just let our target close the door!”
“Ow, ow, okay, I’m sorry!” a man’s voice was next, deeper and fairly smooth.
“If you’re both done being children,” another man’s voice came next, “perhaps we should just try talking through the door.”
There was another pause, and some hissed whispering.
“Uh…. sphere-san?” it was the first man’s voice.
You furrowed your brow. What the fuck? Had you translated that wrong? Kyuutai-san. He had either said “sphere-san” or “nine wanter-san”, which wasn’t a thing unless you were forgetting some colloquial term.
“Sphere-san?” you repeated aloud, trying to see if actually saying the words would cause you to remember another meaning.
“Ah,” the man replied conversationally, “well, I didn’t know what else to call you, since I don’t know your name. Since you can summon spheres, I thought that-”
“Idiot!” the woman cut him off, and you heard the man wheeze in pain, “don’t just show your hand to the target!”
“Wait,” you opened the door, but it caught on the chain that you had used to lock it.
Peering through the small opening in the door, you saw the pink-haired man clutching his stomach. His face was scrunched up, and he was glaring at the brown-haired woman out of one eye. The woman in question had her elbow poised like a deadly weapon, and she looked like she was gearing up to prod him again.
“You can see them?” you asked, reaching for your chest and pulling the three tiny beads of light from therein.
As if on cue, all three of the strangers immediately snapped to attention and looked to them, which answered your question. The pink-haired man glanced back up to you.
“Uh,” he said eloquently, as his gaze flicked between you, the spheres, and the woman to his left, “no.”
His large brown eyes landed on you again, and he looked something like a confused puppy. You were having too much of a crisis to find that cute.
“They’re imaginary,” you muttered to yourself, “you can’t see them. How could you see them? I’m still dreaming.”
“Hey, don’t lie to us,” growled the woman, “come on, you expect us to fall for the old ‘they aren’t real’ bullshit, when you have em right there?”
“No one has ever seen them before!” you exclaim, and the spheres disperse, “so I find it a little hard to believe, actually, that on my first day in Japan, I suddenly found three people who can see them!”
At that, the girl and the black-haired boy turned to each other with matching expressions of confusion.
“First day,” the boy mouthed.
“Then… it can’t be the same person,” the girl muttered.
The pink-haired boy was looking between them. After a minute, the realization must have dawned on him, too.
“Oh!” he said softly, “hey, guys? If the cursed energy was reported last night… but sphere-san got here this morning…”
“Shit!” hissed the woman, looking at you as if you’d deeply offended her, “you’re just a civilian!”
“How come a civilian can use a cursed technique?” hummed the pink-haired boy, raising a hand to his chin, “I thought it was only sorcerers.”
“Sorcerers?” you interjected, drawing their focus back to you.
You looked between all of them, and then it dawned on you.
“Ohhhh,” you said softly, “I get it now. You’re all crazy.”
“No!” the pink-haired man exclaimed, at the exact same time that the black-haired man yelled “yes!”
The pink-haired man’s companions quickly covered his mouth.
“Yes!” they both insisted, “yes, we’re just crazy. We’re just some crazy people who chased you down for no reason, talking about ‘magic orbs’ and ‘sorcerers.’ That’s all!”
You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes. The way that they had said it made it seem like they were lying, but what else could it be? They couldn’t literally be looking for a sorcerer. Sorcerers weren’t real. The pink-haired man wrestled his way out of his friends’ grip, and he gave them a glare.
“I don’t get it,” he said, “why can’t we say we’re sorcerers?”
“Itadori, for the love of-!” the woman strangled the air in front of her and clenched her teeth.
As they were arguing, you noticed something that you didn’t particularly like. The pink-haired guy, Itadori, had weird little divots under his eyes. You’d initially written them off as old scars. That was all well and good, until one of them opened up a little bit to reveal a third eyeball. The eye lazily flicked in your direction. Its red iris seemed to scrutinize you for a bit while Itadori and his goons were bickering.
“Okay, listen,” you said tiredly, “I’m not even gonna ask about the extra eyes on your face.”
That shut him right up. All three- four? Fuck, alright, four, of course it was four- all four of Itadori’s eyes were now widened and looking right at you.
“I don’t wanna know,” you continued, “Look, I came here to study physics and Japanese. I’m gonna be here, doing that,” you gestured to them, as cordially as you could muster, “You… lovely people… seem to like… being insane and having extra eyeballs. That’s great. It’s great to have a thing. Have the best time being not here , and doing that! Please leave before I call campus security.”
With that, you closed the door on them for a second time. Through the door, you could hear them having a hushed conversation, although you couldn’t make out the words. It seemed that they arrived at a conclusion. Blessedly, they actually left this time. You double checked the locks on your door, before turning on your heel and padding back into your dormitory. Rubbing your face with your hands, you groaned. Well, you were at least awake enough to change into your pajamas now. You stopped in your tracks, as your mind tried to catch up to what you were thinking. Oh. Right. No suitcase. This was gonna be a long week.