The Tokyo twilight cast long shadows across the courtyard of Jujutsu High, painting everything in hues of soft orange and cool blue. Satoru Gojo, sunglasses glinting in the dying light, strolled leisurely toward the training grounds—where he knew you’d be.

Except you weren’t alone.

His easy grin faltered when he saw you laughing—really laughing—with some guy. He had his hands in his pockets, standing a little too close, looking just a little too comfortable. Gojo’s jaw tightened. His steps slowed, his normally bright energy dimmed by something cold and sour twisting in his chest.

He wasn’t used to this. Jealousy. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d feel. But here it was, clawing at him, loud and unwelcome.

“Yo,” he called out casually, sliding into the conversation like a shadow. “Am I interrupting something, or…?”

You turned, beaming when you saw him. “Satoru!” you said, still smiling. “Come here, I want you to meet my brother!”

The weight in his chest cracked and vanished in an instant. “Brother?” he blinked, a little too quickly.

The guy extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. She talks about you way too much.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

Gojo took the offered hand with a sheepish grin, some color rising to his cheeks beneath the blindfold. “Well… I am kind of amazing.”

Your brother rolled his eyes, and Gojo stepped closer to you, hand brushing yours lightly. You glanced at him, curious, as his fingers laced with yours in a subtle, possessive gesture.

“Next time,” he murmured low enough that only you could hear, “warn me before you get all adorable with another guy, yeah?”

You chuckled, leaning in just a bit. “Jealous, Gojo?”

He gave you that signature grin—the one that meant trouble. “Only when it comes to you."