Satoru hadn’t expected the mission to go badly. Yaga had insisted he go, saying it was a first-grade curse that he could handle easily. And he did. He made sure to exorcize it so no one else would get hurt. But then he’d noticed the strange gas seeping out of the curse’s body as it faded. A weird glow, thicker than smoke, curling through the air. He should have ignored it. Instead, he’d leaned closer, curious.

And he kind of… inhaled it.

That was how he ended up with a pair of white, fluffy ears sprouting from his head.

They twitched when he walked. He could feel them twitch. And every time the wind shifted, they caught it, moving in ways he had no control over. It was maddening.

By the time he got back to Jujutsu High, the sun was already sinking. The courtyard was quiet, the classrooms locked up. Suguru was still out on his own mission, Shoko was at the infirmary, and the underclassmen were nowhere to be seen. The dorms were almost silent—except for the soft shuffle of pages.

He found you there, sitting on the couch with a book in hand. The only person around to witness whatever the hell had happened to him.

Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe like nothing was wrong, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. The ears twitched immediately, betraying him.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, pointing a finger at you before you could open your mouth. His voice was sharp, but his grin was already tugging at the corners. “Don’t laugh. Don’t make fun of me.”

The ears flicked again, traitorous.

Gojo sighed and flopped down onto the couch, his long legs taking up half the space, head tipped back against the cushions. He pretended not to care, like he always did, but his ears gave him away—turning toward every little sound in the room, twitching when he shifted.

Sixteen years old. The strongest sorcerer at Jujutsu High. And now? A catboy.

“Y’know,” he muttered, smirking up at the ceiling, “I bet you've never seen anything this cool in your life.” The ears flicked as if to agree.