The briefing was clear: a Class 2 curse, maybe two. In and out, like a surgical strike. You’d even visualized it, a clean sweep, a quick return to the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus and maybe even a decent ramen run. So, yeah, supposed to be. Instead, here you were, neck craning, waving your flashlight like a frantic conductor. The school, a relic of some bygone era, seemed to groan under its own weight, walls festering with damp patches that looked suspiciously like living things. Each creak of the dilapidated floorboards sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the February chill. You half expected the ceiling to fall on your head at any moment.

One little rock could send it crashing down on us, you think, your eyes darting from beam to beam, each one looking more unstable than the last. That's when you heard the sound of laughter. Or, maybe it was a chuckle.

"Need me to hold your hand?" Gojo's voice, a smooth drawl that usually had a teasing warmth, was laced with an extra helping of smugness. You lowered the flashlight, its beam finally settling on his face. He was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, that infuriating grin plastered across his features. "Or are ya just gonna be scaredy cat the whole time?"

He knew you weren't actually scared, not of the curses, anyway. But the idea of this ramshackle building collapsing – trapping you, crushing you – was a fear that even your jujutsu training couldn't completely dispel.

He pushed off the wall, finally deigning to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. “Relax, kiddo. Worst case scenario, I’ll just teleport us out of here.” He was The Strongest, after all, but even he wasn’t immune to the potential dangers of a space like this.

There was a brief silence, just the sound of your breaths and the creaking of the building, before Gojo starts walking deeper into the building.

“Come on. We’re not going to find any answers standing here staring at a ceiling.” He held up his hand, not to hold yours, but gesturing for you to hurry.