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The late afternoon sun poured lazily through the dormitory window at Jujutsu Kaisen High, casting long gold streaks across Shoko Ieiri’s bedroom floor. Papers were spread in neat, obsessive stacks around her. Medical textbooks lay open and highlighted. A pencil tapped rhythmically against the margin of her notes.
Shoko sat cross-legged on her bed, glasses sliding down her nose slightly as she reread a paragraph on reverse cursed technique. Tomorrow’s exam wasn’t something she could bluff through with instinct. Unlike certain classmates of hers.
She underlined one last sentence.
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Shoko didn’t look up.
The door burst open with all the grace of an explosion.
“Shokooo!” Satoru Gojo sang, dragging her name into something dramatic and theatrical.
Suguru Geto leaned against the doorframe behind him, far too relaxed for someone who had just participated in a break-in. “We’re bored.”
Shoko inhaled slowly. Exhaled slowly. Counted to three.
“I am studying,” she said flatly, not turning around. “Leave.”
There was a pause.
Then Satoru dramatically gasped as though she’d stabbed him in the chest.
“Leave?” he echoed. “How heartless.”
Suguru pushed off the frame and wandered into the room, peering at her notes. “You’ve been at this for hours.”
“Yes,” Shoko replied evenly. “That’s how studying works.”
Satoru flopped face-first onto her bed beside her, nearly scattering her papers, “But what about quality time? Friendship? Entertainment?”
She slid her notebook away from him before he could smudge anything. “Try entertaining each other.”
Suguru hummed thoughtfully. Then, without warning, he climbed onto the bed behind her.
Shoko stiffened.
“Suguru,” she warned, tone razor thin.
He ignored it and settled cross-legged directly behind her back. Warmth pressed against her spine as his arms slid around her waist in a loose but unmistakable hold.
“Support,” he said mildly. “You look tense.”
“I will elbow you,” she replied calmly.
Satoru rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows, pale eyes glinting with something dangerous and amused. “She won’t. She’s too dedicated.”
Shoko tried to focus on her textbook again. “You two are impossible.”
“Correct,” Satoru agreed cheerfully.
She adjusted her position, stretching her legs out unconsciously.
That was her mistake.
Satoru’s gaze dropped.
A slow, wicked smile curved across his face.
“Oh?” he murmured.
Shoko immediately narrowed her eyes and gritted, “Don’t.”
Suguru’s arms tightened slightly around her waist as though bracing her.
“Don’t what?” Satoru asked innocently.
“You know exactly what.”
He did.
In one swift movement, Satoru lunged forward and grabbed her ankle.
Shoko yelped—quick, startled—but clamped her mouth shut immediately as his fingers scribbled across the arch of her foot.
“Gojo—” she started, biting it off when his other hand joined in.
He was relentless.
His fingers danced wildly over her soles, scratching and tickling with infuriating precision. Shoko’s shoulders jerked. Her legs tried to kick free, but Suguru’s arms tightened around her waist, effectively trapping her in place.
“Hold still,” Suguru said pleasantly, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder.
“You traitor,” she hissed, covering her mouth with one hand as laughter bubbled dangerously at the edges.
Satoru grinned wider. “She’s resisting. Increase pressure.”
His fingers moved faster—over her heels, up to her toes, circling back to the center of her feet in unpredictable patterns. Shoko’s composure began cracking immediately.
Her breath hitched.
Her body twisted, trying to escape the sensation. “Stop,” she demanded, voice wobbling despite her best effort.
“Stop what?” Satoru asked sweetly, digging in harder.
The scratching intensified—light, quick, merciless. He knew exactly where she was most sensitive. Her toes curled. Her shoulders trembled.
Suguru noticed the way she was biting her lip and gently pulled her hand away from her mouth.
“No cheating,” he said.
The dam broke.
Laughter burst out of her in bright, uncontrollable waves. It wasn’t the polite chuckle she used in class—it was full, breathless, completely unguarded.
“Satoru!” she gasped, trying to curl inward.
He shifted, hooking one arm around her calves to keep her legs extended while the other hand continued its assault. “There it is!”
Shoko writhed helplessly, back pressed firmly against Suguru’s chest as his grip steadied her whenever she jerked too hard.
“This is revenge,” Satoru declared dramatically. “For ignoring us.”
She shook her head, laughter tumbling out between frantic breaths. “You’re—awful—!”
“Awfully fun,” he corrected.
Five minutes felt like an eternity.
Her laughter rose and fell in cycles, sometimes breathless and quiet, other times loud enough to echo down the hallway. She tried to twist away; Satoru simply adjusted. She attempted to shove him with her free foot; he caught it and retaliated by scribbling even more furiously over her toes.
Suguru chuckled softly against her shoulder.
“You’re turning red,” he observed.
“I—hate—you,” she panted, though the edge in her voice had dulled into something softer.
Satoru leaned closer, grinning at the sight of her completely undone composure. “You love us.”
He traced slow, deliberate circles now, drawing out each reaction. Even exhausted, she jolted at the lighter touch, laughter spilling helplessly from her lips.
Finally—mercifully—Satoru stopped.
The sudden absence of sensation made her feet twitch instinctively.
Shoko collapsed backward, breathing hard, hair disheveled and glasses slightly crooked. “Monsters,” she muttered weakly.
Suguru loosened his hold but didn’t move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her properly now—less restraint, more comfort.
Satoru flopped forward dramatically and draped himself across both of them.
“You survived,” he announced proudly.
She pushed weakly at his shoulder. “Get off.”
“No.”
Despite her protests, neither of them resumed their attack. The chaos ebbed into a warm, familiar quiet.
Suguru rested his cheek against the top of her head.
“You study too much,” he said softly.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, “Some of us care about passing.”
Satoru shifted so his chin rested on her knee. “You’ll pass. You’re Shoko.”
The confidence in his voice wasn’t teasing this time. It was simple fact.
She exhaled slowly, irritation melting into reluctant fondness, “You two are impossible.”
“Still correct,” Suguru murmured.
Satoru reached down and lightly squeezed her ankle—not tickling, just gentle, “We just wanted your attention.”
“You could have asked.” she said lightly
“We did,” he protested.
“You barged in.”
“Same difference.”
Shoko huffed, but her lips twitched.
The three of them stayed tangled together on her bed—papers slightly crumpled, textbooks abandoned for the moment. The sunset deepened outside, bathing the room in softer hues.
After a few minutes, she nudged Satoru with her foot.
“I have to finish reviewing.”
He groaned dramatically but rolled onto his back, keeping one arm lazily around her leg. Suguru shifted so she could sit upright again, though his presence remained solid behind her.
She reached for her notes.
This time, when she began reading aloud to memorize key points, they didn’t interrupt.
Satoru listened with exaggerated seriousness. Suguru occasionally asked thoughtful questions just to keep her engaged.
It wasn’t exactly peaceful.
But it was theirs.
And when she stumbled over a term from lingering laughter, Satoru simply smiled, quieter now, and Suguru squeezed her waist gently.
Annoying. Overbearing. Ridiculous.
But warm.
Shoko adjusted her glasses and continued studying—surrounded, as always, by chaos that felt strangely like home.