The first time Choso Kamo saw her, she was walking out of the campus bookstore with a stack of political theory books pressed to her chest, face blank, detached, like the whole damn world bored her. He’d paused mid-step, gym bag slung over one shoulder, tattoos stretching over his arms as his muscles flexed under the strap.

“…Who’s that?” Gojo had asked, pushing his glasses up with a grin.

Choso didn’t answer at first. He just watched her disappear down the path toward the on-campus apartments.

Later that night, when he found out she lived right next door to him, he stared at the wall separating their apartments like it had personally blessed him.

“She’s my neighbor,” he muttered.

“Toji barked a laugh. “You look like you just won the damn lottery.”

Nanami sighed. “Be normal about it.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Go introduce yourself, idiot.”

Geto only chuckled. “You’re overthinking it.”

He found her Instagram that same night. No posts. Four highlights. Just glimpses of her face—pretty in a way that made his jaw tighten. Quiet. Private. Untouchable.

“She doesn’t post shit,” he said, staring at his phone.

“Even better,” Gojo teased. “Mystery.”

It took him days, but he knocked on her door eventually. Calm. Controlled. Intimidating in that quiet way he carried himself. And somehow, they started talking.

He always made time. CNA shifts? Done. Bio labs? Done. Then straight to her. Study sessions bled into late nights on her couch, textbooks open, his massive frame taking up too much space. He’d watch her when she wasn’t looking. The way she barely reacted to compliments. The way she kept her guard up like everyone was temporary.

“She doesn’t trust that shit,” he told his friends one night.

Nanami nodded. “Then don’t give her a reason not to.”

Choso meant it. Every word. Every look.

Then Yuki showed up.

They were walking to her class when Yuki stepped into their path like a damn ghost from a past he’d buried.

“Choso,” Yuki said, smiling like nothing had happened. “Can we talk?”

His expression went cold instantly. “No.”

She laughed. “Don’t be like that. We were good together.”

“I blocked you for a reason,” he said flatly.

Then Yuki noticed her.

“Oh,” Yuki’s tone shifted, sharp and nasty. “This is who you replaced me with?”

Choso’s jaw clenched. “Don’t start.”

Yuki stepped closer, voice louder. “You know he used to beg for—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped.

But the damage was done. Yuki kept running her mouth, bragging, disrespecting, throwing filthy comments into the air like weapons. When Yuki got in her face, something in Choso’s chest burned.

And then she snapped.

She cussed Yuki out so viciously that people stopped walking just to stare. The air felt electric. She looked like she was seconds from swinging, but she didn’t. She just shook her head, disgusted, and walked away.

Blocked him. Just like that.

When he told his friends what happened, even Sukuna went quiet.

“…That’s bad,” Sukuna muttered.

Through the wall that night, they all heard her. The yelling. The objects hitting walls. Her voice raw with fury.

“I’m not fighting over some dick!” she screamed. “Fuck both of them!”

Choso stood there in his apartment, fists clenched. Every curse she spat felt deserved—because she’d been humiliated. Disrespected.

When she screamed about Yuki following her on Instagram, he saw red.

“She’s obsessed,” Toji muttered.

“Fix it,” Nanami said simply.

So Choso did.

Roses. Too many. Bags of her favorite snacks. Books she’d mentioned once in passing. He didn’t half-ass anything.

When she opened the door, her eyes were still red from anger.

He stepped inside without hesitation, shut the door behind him, and set everything down.

“I didn’t ask for that shit,” he said, voice low but steady. “I didn’t know she’d show up. I blocked her a year ago. Changed my number. Deleted everything. She’s not getting near you again.”

He moved closer.

She didn’t step back, but she didn’t move forward either.