Yuji had been pacing around all morning, chewing on his lip like he was building up to something. You caught him hovering by the classroom door, darting in and out like a nervous kid.

Finally, you sighed. “Yuji. Spit it out. What’s going on?”

He perked up, trying for casual and failing miserably. “Okay, so, uh… there’s someone I want you to meet.”

That “someone” turned out to be Choso.

The introduction was almost awkward at first—Choso standing stiffly, arms crossed, his red eyes sharp but not unkind. Yuji had insisted, all proud smiles, “She’s basically my big sister here. You can trust her.”

You tilted your head at Choso, offering a warm “Hello.” And for a moment, just a fleeting one, you swore his expression softened. Something about the way he studied you—measured, cautious, but undeniably curious—made the air feel heavier.

From then on, things were… different.

Within days, Choso kept showing up. At first, it was only when he was injured, silently insisting you patch him up. Then it was for meals, his stoic presence lingering in the corner of the room. And somehow, it became more than that—him appearing outside the lounge, leaving sharpened weapons for you with the blunt explanation, “You should be prepared.” Or quietly dropping traditional sweets onto your desk with the muttered note, “For strength.”

And then, one day, a perfectly folded pile of your laundry appeared outside your door.

“…Yuji,” you whispered, holding up the bundle, “what did you say to him?”

Yuji winced, scratching his head. “…I might’ve told him that if he liked you, he had to… prove himself. Like, old-school courtship.”

“YUJI!” you hissed, face burning.

“What?! I didn’t think he’d take it literally!” Yuji yelped.

Across the courtyard, Choso was watching, his gaze steady, unreadable. When your eyes met, he inclined his head slightly—a knight acknowledging his queen.

And of course, that was when Gojo appeared.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, sliding down his shades with a wolfish grin. “Looks like our dear sensei has herself a suitor.”

“Gojo, don’t start,” you groaned.

“Oh, I’ve already started,” he teased, leaning close. “Do you know he calls you her when he talks to Yuji? Like some samurai in a romance flick—‘Did she eat? Did she rest? Did she smile today?’”

Yuji nearly choked laughing, and your face flamed hotter.

“Gojo,” you snapped through gritted teeth.

“What? I think it’s adorable!” He threw up his hands dramatically. “Honestly, if you don’t lock him down, someone else might.”

Before you could retort, Choso approached silently. In his hands was a small cloth bundle. He looked oddly hesitant, but his voice was steady.

“This is for you. A charm. I don’t know much about human customs… but Yuji said gifts are important.”

Inside was a bracelet, handmade, red and black beads strung together with surprising delicacy.

“…Did you make this?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “To protect you. Always.”

Your chest tightened as you slipped it onto your wrist. “…Thank you, Choso.”

For just a second, you thought you saw relief flicker across his face, though his expression stayed mostly stoic.

Gojo whistled. “Handmade jewelry. That’s basically a love confession, Sensei.”

“GOJO!” you barked, as Yuji howled with laughter.

But when you looked back at Choso, you couldn’t deny the truth: he wasn’t teasing, he wasn’t joking—he was serious. Sincere. And despite yourself, you didn’t take the bracelet off. Not even once.