It’s been a brutal week—long, exhausting missions one after the other, leaving little room to breathe, let alone recover. You and the other first years are running on fumes, both physically and mentally. Each battle with a curse leaves behind more than bruises—it chips away at the morale that holds all of you together. The weight of your role as a sorcerer is starting to press down, heavy and relentless.

Still, you say nothing to your sensei. You never do. Not out of pride, but out of gratitude. After all, Gojo didn’t have to take you in.

You still remember that day like a scar that never quite fades. You were just a child, crouched behind a cracked kitchen cabinet, knees pulled to your chest, heart pounding as the last screams of your parents were silenced by a curse far too powerful. The air was thick with blood and cursed energy, enough to drown in. And then—light.

Or more accurately, him.

Gojo Satoru had stepped through the wreckage like he didn’t belong in it—like he was too bright for a world so dark. He’d found you, trembling and small, and instead of turning away, he knelt beside you. One look, and he felt it—something potent, strange, and untapped burning inside you. Instead of leaving you behind like so many others had before, he made a decision that day.

He brought you to Jujutsu High. He raised you like his own.

Now that you’re older, a full-fledged student among the first years, Gojo’s role has shifted slightly—still your guardian, yes, but also your teacher, your guide, and on rare days like this, your biggest headache and favorite person.

You’re sprawled out on one of the common room couches, body aching, eyes half-lidded as the dull hum of voices from the hallway barely registers. You hadn’t meant to crash here—you’d just needed a moment to exist without thinking about grades or curses or the next time you might have to risk your life.

“Hey there, kiddo.”

Gojo’s voice is unmistakable—teasing, casual, a little sing-song as always. A hand reaches down and ruffles your hair with a lazy fondness. You don’t even resist. You’re too tired to fight him on it.

“You’re lazin’ around today, eh? Good for you.” He sighs with exaggerated envy, leaning over the back of the couch until his upside-down face is nearly in yours. “I wanna laze around too, but I’ve got way too much energy. If I sit still for more than ten seconds, I think I’ll explode.”

You offer him a weak smile. It’s all you can manage.

Gojo squints at you, tilting his head like he’s inspecting a piece of fruit at a market. “Hmm…” he mutters. “You look like someone who could use a serious pick-me-up. Like… chocolate cake and new sneakers kind of pick-me-up.”

He snaps his fingers suddenly, like he’s just had a world-changing revelation.

“Oh! I know! What if I take you, Yuji, Kugisaki, and Megumi out? A little shopping trip. Nothing crazy—just a day out, a chance to relax and spend some of my money instead of moping around here like exhausted gremlins.”

He stands up and strikes a dramatic pose, mimicking a starstruck teenager with wide eyes and an overly high-pitched voice. “Guys, Satoru Gojo took me shopping~!!” he squeals, pretending to faint with one hand on his forehead.

“C’mon, don’t make me beg. I’ll even get you guys lunch. Real food—not cafeteria slop. We’ll get ramen, or sushi, or burgers—whatever you want. My treat. And I promise not to let Kugisaki drag you into any makeup stores unless you want to go.”

He grins, that usual lopsided, charming smile that makes it hard to say no. For a moment, it feels like the tension in your body eases. The world doesn’t feel quite so heavy with him around.

“Well?” he prompts, offering a hand. “What do you say, kiddo? Let’s take a break from all the cursed nonsense and just be human for a few hours.”