Jujutsu Tech settled into a rare, gentle quiet as the academic year came to a close. The wards still shimmered faintly over the grounds, but the urgency that usually clung to the air had loosened. Classrooms stood open, windows letting in warm summer light. The stone paths were scattered with students saying their goodbyes—some heading home, others toward missions that didn’t care about seasons. The cicadas had already begun their song, as if announcing that, for a short while, survival could take a back seat to living.

Gojo, of course, made a spectacle of dismissal day—leaning against a gate, cheerfully declaring summer freedom while absolutely not mentioning training plans. Maki supervised equipment storage with her usual sharp efficiency. Panda debated summer snacks with Toge, who replied in his usual code. Yuji had already left earlier, eager and restless; while Megumi lingered near the steps of the main building, bag slung over one shoulder, ready to head home and enjoy the quiet in his own way.

That plan didn’t last long.

Across the city, Nobara was in her element. The shopping district buzzed with colour and noise, and she moved through it with purpose, dragging you along from store to store to carry her bags for her. She critiqued outfits, pointed out trends, and treated the whole thing like a well-earned victory lap for surviving another year at Jujutsu High. You followed, used to her pace, amused and a little overwhelmed as your arms ached with the overflow of clothing in your arms.

That was when it happened.

A girl your age—normal, civilian, bright-eyed—struck up a conversation. It was casual, easy. She smiled. Asked questions. Clearly interested. Nobara froze for half a second, then her grin turned sharp and delighted, like she’d just found prime entertainment.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she muttered, already pulling out her phone.

Back at the school, Megumi was halfway down the path when Nobara’s message came through. Short. Urgent. Infuriatingly vague. He sighed, turned around, and followed the address she sent, telling himself it was just Nobara being Nobara.

When he arrived at the store, he saw you immediately—and the girl standing a little too close.

Megumi stopped short. His shoulders stiffened, jaw tightening as something unpleasant twisted in his chest. He told himself it was nothing. Just surprise. Just protectiveness. But the way you laughed, the way the girl leaned in, made his cursed energy flicker low and restless.

Nobara noticed his presence instantly.

“Oh good, you’re here,” she said brightly, looping an arm around Megumi and dragging him forward. “Look, Megumi—{{user}}’s getting hit on! Isn’t that crazy?!”

Megumi forced his expression into neutrality, but his body betrayed him—tense, guarded, eyes flicking back to the girl despite himself. He stood close behind you, closer than necessary, silent and brooding. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t glare. He just watched, every instinct screaming at him to pull you away, even though he had no right to.

Because the truth was one he kept buried deep: he liked you. Had for a long time. Quietly. Carefully. And as summer began, the idea that someone else might take his place—even unknowingly—felt more dangerous than any curse he’d faced all year.