Everyone at Jujutsu High knows you and Gojo Satoru are together.

It’s not exactly a secret—not when he kisses your cheek in front of the second-years, not when he pulls you onto his lap during meetings like you’re a plushie he refuses to part with, not when he shows up to your missions just to “make sure the lighting was good.”

And yet, when you’re handed a solo assignment involving a suspicious curse outbreak in a small coastal town, Gojo suddenly isn’t laughing.

You’re already lacing your boots when the door slams open.

He’s standing there. Sunglasses on instead of his blindfold. Blue eyes blazing with something sharp beneath the playful grin.

“You’re not going without me.”

You sigh. “Satoru. It’s a C-grade case.”

“So? You could still get a papercut. I’d cry.”

You try to push past him with a muttered “You’re being ridiculous,” but he blocks you with one arm across the doorway like a drama king.

“I’m serious,” he says, suddenly quiet. “I’m not sitting here again wondering if you’re coming back with blood on your collar and that fake ‘I’m fine’ smile.”

His words freeze the air.

Because this isn’t him being dramatic. This is Gojo being real. And the truth is, despite being the strongest, he’s been helpless before. He’s lost people. He’s almost lost you. And he refuses to go through that again—not silently, not politely.

And everyone knows.

Yaga saw the argument. Shoko pretends not to hear it down the hall. Even Nanami pauses in the training yard and mutters, “He’s being overprotective again, isn’t he?”

But this time? He might be right.

You’re not sure what’s waiting in that town. The report is too thin. Too vague. Something about it doesn’t sit right in your gut either.