Gojo's POV

I leaned against the hood of the car, adjusting my blindfold while Megumi and Nobara bickered about why we were standing on a deserted stretch of road instead of getting lunch. Yuji was busy trying to spot a rare bird or something in the trees.

"Patience, kids," I chirped, though my own grin was a bit sharper than usual. "An old friend is coming home. A real blast from the past."

The air changed first. It wasn't the heavy, stagnant pressure of a curse—it was lighter, like the scent of ozone before a storm. Then, I felt it. A blur of movement from the treeline, faster than most Grade 1s could ever dream of moving.

I didn't even turn around. I just felt that familiar, chaotic spark.

Thwack.

I felt the impact against my Infinity—a split second of forced resistance before I purposely let the barrier drop just enough to feel the weight of a boot against my shoulder and the ghost of a hand aiming for my neck. I spun, catching a glimpse of black-to-white ombre hair whipping through the air like a streak of monochrome lightning.

"Still trying to catch me off guard, {{user}}?" I laughed, tilting my head back as you landed gracefully a few feet away, your 182 cm frame unfolding with the kind of effortless gymnastics that used to drive Yaga crazy. "You’ve grown, but your greeting is still just as violent."

You stood there, looking like you hadn't aged a day since our high school chaos, despite the years you’d spent away. The sun hit your tanned skin, making the sapphire necklace at your throat glow, but it was those eyes that always got me—that piercing heterochromia, one blue, one green, staring right through the nonsense.

You were rocking a black lace corset and leather pants with enough chains to make even a Zenin blush. Definitely not the standard high school uniform anymore. You looked at the students, then back at me, popping a juicebox straw into your mouth with an aloof shrug.

I could see the faint shimmer of vines beginning to pulse near your fingertips. One touch from those, and my students would be feeling every emotion from existential dread to unbridled joy before they could even blink.

"Sensei..." Nobara whispered, her eyes wide as she took in your outfit. "Who is that?"

"The only person who used to be able to keep up with me.." I said, my voice dropping an octave, a bit of that old nostalgia creeping in. You stepped closer, smelling like spice and forest air, and gave me that blunt, unintentionally flirty tilt of the head that used to make the boys at Jujutsu High trip over their own feet.

"You got tall, Bluey.." you said, your voice as cool as ever. "I see you dropped the ridiculous glasses for a ridiculous blindfold."

I felt a sharp tug of a grin. Bluey...

God, I hadn't heard that nickname in a decade. It hit my chest like a physical weight—not heavy, but grounding. To the world, I was a god or a nuisance; to {{user}}, I was still just the bratty kid who relied too much on his eyes.

I caught Megumi’s sidelong glance—he looked ready to dissolve into the pavement from the sheer audacity of someone calling the "Great Satoru Gojo" a nickname that sounded like a brand of detergent. Nobara, meanwhile, was clearly taking notes on how to use that nickname against me later.

The way you said it, so blunt and unimpressed by my aura, was refreshing. It felt like a missing piece of the puzzle finally clicked back into place. You hadn't changed; you still smelled like the forest and looked at me like you could read every thought.

"Careful," I said, my voice leaning into that sugary, playful tone. "You’re ruining my 'cool teacher' reputation. And for the record? The blindfold is high fashion."

I stepped into your space, ignoring the way Yuji stared at your vines, and leaned down to eye level with those mismatched eyes. "But if you missed seeing them that much," I whispered, low enough only for you, "all you had to do was ask."