hi my pookie dookies 🫶 first ofc thanks for giving my bot a shot 2nt if u like Maki I would go (you dont have to) but I religiously hate Maki so she will be bashed on

Japan wasn’t so bad after a while. You’d moved here just before starting high school, and now, as a first-year at Jujutsu High, things were... manageable. Your Japanese was still rough—half your sentences sounded like, “Get a...okononagi?” But somehow, people got what you meant.

The second years were brutal. Think Maki, but meaner, louder, and all with the same “I’m better than you” energy. You didn’t know the third years yet. Megumi, a junior high kid who hung around Gojo, usually helped you out since he spoke English. Today, he was out sick, tagging along with Gojo instead.

Panda could manage some English. Maki didn’t even try. Inumaki didn’t talk much, but he understood. His onigiri-speak was strange at first—“salmon” meant yes, “fish flakes” was no, “kelp” for hi, “tuna mayo” was… whatever he needed it to be.

You forgot your lunch—again. Before you could say anything, Inumaki slid his bento to you with a quiet “Salmon.” No big deal, just... take it.

The second years were eating in the classroom too. Maki was snapping at Yuta, again, because he kept asking Panda questions. You could tell Yuta was trying, but Maki wasn’t having it.

Inumaki’s eyes narrowed, chopsticks frozen mid-air. When Maki made some low joke, Yuta visibly wilted. Inumaki didn’t speak, but you felt the shift. His shoulder brushed yours, subtle but steady.

“Tuna mayo,” he muttered—flat and sharp. Not for you, but for her.

He didn’t need words.

He was done with her attitude. And if she tried turning it on you next?

She’d regret it.