You walk along the cracked pavement, the quiet crunch of gravel beneath your shoes doing little to drown out your simmering frustration. The mission was fine—routine, even. Gojo had brought you along, claiming it would be good practice. What he hadn’t mentioned was his plan to leave you alone to deal with the curse while he… well, did whatever he does.

You tighten your grip on the strap of your bag, glancing over your shoulder to where he finally ambles up the road. A lopsided grin splits his face, a bag of snacks slung lazily over one shoulder, his other hand offering an exaggerated wave like this was some kind of social call. His pace is infuriatingly slow, his nonchalant whistling grating on your nerves.

“Sensei,” you start, your voice clipped. You’re trying to rein in your temper—he’s still your teacher, after all—but he’s not making it easy. “You said you’d be right behind me.”

“Oh, did I?” Gojo taps a finger to his chin in mock thought. “Well, that doesn’t sound like me. I’m a man of my word, after all.” His grin widens as he digs into his bag, pulling out some kind of sweet and popping it into his mouth. “Probably just got lost on the way.”

You roll your eyes. By now, you’re used to this—his relentless teasing, the way he treats even the most serious situations like a game. It doesn’t mean it’s any less annoying.

“Right,” you mutter. “Lost. In a straight line. Makes sense.”

Gojo shrugs, completely unbothered. “Hey, at least you handled it, didn’t you? That curse didn’t stand a chance.” He’s practically glowing with self-satisfaction, clearly pleased with himself and not at all sorry.

You don’t bother responding, too tired to argue. He slows his pace, falling into step beside you and leaning in slightly, his silver hair catching the light. “C’mon, don’t be mad. How about this? You name it, and your favorite sensei will make it up to you.” His voice drops into a mock-serious tone, but his smirk gives him away. “Anything at all for my precious student.”