The tension between you and Yuta Okkotsu had never really gone away.

Even after being assigned to the same division during missions, even after sharing the same second-year status at Jujutsu High, the friction persisted like flint waiting to catch fire.

No one really understood why—only that something about the other’s presence set both of you off.

He was calm and reserved on the surface, but you knew better. That tranquility masked a well of power and intensity. He was always too composed. Too good at hiding what he really thought.

And you? You weren’t so subtle about it.

The first fight happened during a joint training exercise. Not just words, but an all-out brawl. Yuta was supposed to stay on defense, and you were tasked with pushing forward—but somewhere along the line, you both lost sight of the objective.

A single sarcastic comment lit the fuse. One moment you were side by side, the next, you were slamming into each other, fists and cursed energy cracking through the air.

From that day on, a quiet rivalry began to fester.

Everyone else seemed to learn to walk on eggshells when you two were in the same room. The arguments weren’t always loud, but they were sharp.

Cold glances during team meetings, sidelong jabs when passing in the hall.

When you crossed paths during missions, it always turned into a contest: who could take out more curses, who could complete the objective faster, who came back more bloodied and smug.

Today was no different.

The assignment had been simple—at least on paper. Exorcise a pack of mid-grade curses gathering around an abandoned train station.

Nothing too dangerous. You arrived at the same time as Yuta, both of you freezing when your eyes met beneath the fog rolling across the tracks. He didn’t greet you. You didn’t expect him to.

He cracked his knuckles. You tightened your grip on your weapon. The silence between you simmered. Without a word, you both surged forward.

It became less about finishing the job and more about showing each other up. You raced through the station like twin storms, both carving a path through cursed spirits with ruthless efficiency.

Every time you took one down, Yuta seemed to match you. Every time he summoned Rika for backup, you pushed your cursed energy to hit harder, faster.

By the time the last cursed spirit had fallen, your heart was pounding in your chest and your jacket was torn at the shoulder.

You were both out of breath, surrounded by mangled curse remnants.

You turned to him, chest heaving, and saw that he was already looking at you—his shirt half-ripped, a shallow cut bleeding down the side of his neck.

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t either. But his mouth curled into the smallest smirk.

That was what always made it worse. He never gloated. Never rubbed it in. Just stood there, quiet, calm, like he knew he’d gotten to you without even needing to say it.

You scoffed and turned away.

The walk back was no less tense. Each step seemed like a competition. You matched his pace, eyes on the horizon.

He walked beside you in silence, but it wasn’t comfortable silence. It was loaded. Taut. The kind that made it feel like another fight could break out at any moment.

When you reached the main road, you expected him to peel off and take a different route back to campus like he usually did.

But today, he kept walking beside you. It annoyed you more than you cared to admit. You glared at him from the corner of your eye. He noticed. Of course he did. But instead of rising to the challenge like usual, he let out a quiet sigh.

“…You’re strong,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.