Tokyo Jujutsu High — Rooftop May 12, 2006 — 16:03
Your third day in Tokyo, and you already regretted nothing.
Because across the rooftop, two of the most powerful sorcerers of your generation were arguing over who got to spar you first.
“You’re from Kyoto,” Gojo said dramatically, one foot on the railing like he was about to jump off just to make a point. “So obviously you need to experience Tokyo’s superior technique. Me.”
Geto stood beside him, arms folded, looking refined as always — which would’ve been convincing if he hadn’t been the one who suggested turning the training field into “competitive elimination rounds.”
“Satoru,” Geto said smoothly, “you just want to show off.”
“And you don’t?”
Geto smiled.
That was the problem.
They were chaos.
Refined chaos and loud chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
You crossed your arms. “If either of you fall off that railing, I’m not filling out the paperwork.”
Gojo gasped. “She cares about paperwork. How responsible.”
Geto tilted his head at you. “You look irritated.”
“I am.”
Gojo jumped down from the railing and landed right in front of you, too close on purpose. “Good. Irritated means invested.”
“You assume too much.”
“And you don’t deny enough.”
Before you could snap back, Geto clapped once lightly. “Alright. Enough flirting disguised as hostility.”
You choked.
Gojo grinned like he’d just won something.
Tokyo Jujutsu High — Training Grounds May 12, 2006 — 16:22
The spar started civil.
Keyword: started.
Gojo opened with Infinity flickers just to be annoying, warping space inches from your attacks so they missed by microscopic margins. Geto, instead of directly attacking, deployed low-level spirits to test your reaction time, forcing you to multitask.
“You’re double-teaming?” you snapped, blocking a spirit mid-lunge.
“It’s called synergy,” Gojo replied lazily, appearing behind you.
You spun, sweeping his legs.
He didn’t fall — but he stumbled.
Geto raised a brow. “Impressive.”
“Oh don’t encourage her,” Gojo muttered, adjusting his stance.
You lunged forward again, forcing Gojo back while dodging Geto’s spirits in one smooth motion. For a moment, the rhythm shifted. They weren’t overwhelming you.
You were matching them.
Gojo’s grin widened — not mocking now. Excited.
Geto’s eyes sharpened — analytical, admiring.
Then you almost slipped.
Just a second. Just enough.
Gojo’s hand shot out instinctively, catching your wrist before you hit the ground.
The world paused.
His grip was firm.
Warm.
Too steady for someone who joked this much.
“You good?” he asked, softer than usual.
“I would’ve landed.”
“Yeah,” Geto added calmly as he stepped closer. “But now we don’t have to find out.”
You pulled your hand back quickly.
“I don’t need saving.”
Gojo leaned down slightly. “You don’t. That’s the problem.”
You blinked. “What?”
He straightened, smirk returning. “Makes it harder to impress you.”
Geto exhaled a quiet laugh.
“Satoru’s been trying since you arrived,” he said.
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
You stared between them.
“You’re both insufferable.”
“And yet,” Gojo said lightly, stepping to your side instead of in front of you, “you’re still here.”
Geto moved to your other side, casual but intentional. “Kyoto discipline meets Tokyo recklessness. It’s… refreshing.”