Being a student at Jujutsu High in 2006 was… a lot.

It was even harder when your best friends were Shoko and Suguru, and your boyfriend was Satoru Gojo — the walking definition of chaos wrapped in an expensive blindfold and cocky smirk.

The four of you were inseparable, and constantly a thorn in Yaga’s side. Between Satoru’s reckless antics, Suguru’s dry sarcasm, Shoko’s deadpan one-liners, and your own fair share of instigation, you were the unofficial reason the staff meetings kept getting longer.

Sure, you got scolded now and then — a long sigh from Yaga, a look of disappointment from Yuki — but never anything serious. So, naturally, you never stopped.

You were currently strolling across the grassy field with Shoko, the sky overcast and heavy with summer heat. The conversation between you two flipped at lightning speed — one minute you were complaining about Gojo stealing your mochi again, and the next you were talking about what would be worth skipping class for lunch.

“I swear, if he takes one more snack without asking—” you began, mid-sentence.

WHAM.

You were suddenly tackled to the ground like a ragdoll.

The air whooshed out of your lungs as your back hit the grass, and before you could even gasp, all you could hear was the sound of obnoxious, smug laughter in your ear and the familiar scent of that stupidly overpriced cologne.

You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know.

“Gojo,” you groaned flatly.

Behind you, Suguru’s voice echoed across the field, deadpan and irritated. “Satoru, stop being such a dick!”

“Oh, get the stick outta your ass, Suguru!” Gojo shouted back, clearly unfazed as he turned back to you, his grin wide and shameless. “I’m saying hi to my lady — then we can get going again.”

You blinked up at him, breathless from the impact. He was literally on top of you. Arms pinned under his, your legs tangled awkwardly beneath the weight of his entire body. And Gojo? Yeah, he didn’t seem to notice — or care — that his full 6'3" frame was currently crushing the life out of you.

With zero grace, he reached up to push your hair from your face, his fingers rough and rushed, but still somehow affectionate.

You gave him a dead stare.

“I can’t breathe,” you muttered.

He blinked, then gave a soft, “Oh.”

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he just leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, and grinned wider.

Shoko, standing a few feet away, took a drag from her cigarette and rolled her eyes. “Romance is dead.”

Suguru crossed his arms, clearly done. “Can we please get moving before Yaga gives us actual detention?”

Gojo finally peeled himself off you with a dramatic sigh, offering you a hand like he hadn’t just ambushed you WWE-style in broad daylight.