"So, just to be clear," her voice was tired, "what do you want from me? Join the sorcerer world?"
Gojo hummed. "Yeah. Jujutsu High's not a bad place with me as your teacher." He sent a proud gaze her way, "Plus, I did sorta promise your folks I'd look after you if you joined."
"…So you did know them." Her eyes narrowed. "Since when?"
"Long story," he said, waving a hand lazily. "They were my supervisors back in the day. Saw them this morning. Didn't know you were their kid until they dropped the bomb on me." He flashed a grin. "Small world, huh?"
"Hah." Aimi let out a tired breath, barely amused.
Silence settled for a moment before she continued, "You seriously want me to go to Jujutsu High?"
"Didn't I just say that?"
"And how exactly am I supposed to be a sorcerer if I can't even see curses?"
"Glasses," he replied smoothly. "Cursed tools. You won't be the first anomaly we've had to accommodate."
"Then why don't you go to those anomly for help then."
"Not the same anomaly here, Mi-chan~"
"Don't call me that," she glared.
"Hahaha, why not? It's a cute nickname, no?"
"Whatever...Stop changing the subject. Then what?" she finally asked. "After that, I joined Jujutsu High? What's your endgame?"
Gojo tilted his head with an amused grin "You like thinking ahead, huh. What, do you want me to lay out a five-year plan too?"
"You should have that damn 5 year plan if you wanna toy with my life."
"Relax," Gojo sighed, "You can't change the whole system in just a generation. The system's corrupted because of the higher-up's old-fashioned way of doing things. The best strategy is to build strength in the newer generations—foster their mindset."
She listened silently.
"The future depends on the next line of people. I need kids stronger than me to lead the future because, at this pace, Japan might just perish when I die."
"What do you mean?"
"Hahh," he scratched his head, "you heard it from your parents. They're putting everything on me."
"..."
"I need people without sorcery heritage backing them to stray away from the traditional bullshits pass down that comes with their bloodline." He shrugged. "I'm working on that goal. My students are all strong-headed, independent kids." He leaned his head to the side and beamed at her. "If you wanna join, we gotta get you ready."
"Get ready for what?"
"Kids who join Jujutsu High usually already have exposure to curses. You wouldn't wanna walk in blind?" he teased.
"Hehh…" She glanced up at the sky, pretending to think. "You're talking like I'm gonna join."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"What kind of question is that? I have a life outside all this. One that I worked hard to build. I'm not throwing it away for some wishy-washy magic-sounding bullshit."
"You say that, but the passion's in your blood." He hummed. "Shikumi and Fukazu are some dedicated gramps. They lived for exorcising like they're addicted."
"More reasons for me to not be like that."
He patted her back. "Lighten up~ you're so serious, Aimi-chan." He grabbed her hand and stood up. "We should go home."
She tried to pull away. "Yeah, you go to your home. I'll go to mine."
"You sure you don't want a sleepover?" he nudged cutely.
"No."
"Aww~"
"I'll think and let you know when I finish." Aimi shoved her half-trembling hands into her hoodie jacket and strolled off, "Goodnight."
Gojo stood behind, watching her shadow dissolve with a relaxed smile, "Kids these days are so troublesome." He sang quietly.
------
Sounds of sparring filled the dojo, flesh against padded gloves, sharp kiais echoing off polished wood. The air was thick with focus and sweat.
It's been almost a week since that day. Aimi continued to live on like nothing had happened.
She walked the perimeter of the room, her hands tucked firmly behind her back, sharp eyes scanning every movement. Every stance. Every slip.
"Keep your guard up," she said calmly, nudging a student's elbow into place. "You're leaving your ribs wide open."
The student nodded and adjusted.
Another pair stumbled out of rhythm. Aimi was there before they could reset. "Footwork," she muttered. "You're not dancing. Stay grounded."
The upcoming martial arts exam loomed over the dojo like a silent clock. Her students would be representing their school, fighting against others to prove their progress. She wanted them to succeed—all of them.
So she threw herself into preparing them. Into being present.
But she wasn't, not really.
She'd been doing her usual routine. Attending lectures, teaching martial arts, studying, and submitting assignments, like everything was fine. Like she wasn't unravelling slowly beneath.
Her mind had felt blurry ever since. Gojo's words. Her parents' faces. The truth they dropped in her lap like it was some ancient relic she didn't ask for.
She thought if she stayed busy enough, it would go away. That maybe she'd forget, but she hadn't.
If anything, all the busyness made the quiet moments worse. Every time she stopped moving, the questions came back louder than before.
What happens next?
Where does she go from here?
A student's shout snapped her out of her thoughts. One of the younger kids had landed a solid throw, and the others clapped quietly in approval. Aimi gave a small nod, hiding the sigh that had almost escaped her chest.
Focus.
One more week to their exam, as a supervisor, that's all she should think about now. Everything else… could wait.
She turned toward the far end of the dojo, watching her students square up again, each more determined than the last.
Still, her mind drifted.
What if she did join?
What would she be giving up? What would she gain?
Would it even matter?
A loud thud echoed across the room—someone hit the mat hard.
"Focus!" she snapped before she could stop herself.
The room quieted for a beat. A few students glanced at her, startled by her suddenly raised voice. Aimi took a breath and softened her tone.
"Take a break," she coughed awkwardly. "Five minutes. Get water."
They scattered, some whispering, others shooting curious glances toward the door. A few looked excited—someone had entered. But Aimi didn't notice. She was too far in her own head.
She walked toward the wall, leaning against the wooden beam near the windows. Outside, rain had begun to fall lightly, tapping against the glass like her inner turmoil begging to be heard.
She rubbed the back of her neck. Her muscles were tight with tension, she couldn't stretch away.
She didn't notice the faint, almost playful voice behind her at first.
"You sure you're not already a sorcerer?"
She turned slowly.
Gojo stood right next to her, still in his dark uniform. The usual fabric that covered his eyes hung loosely around his neck. His signature grin was there.
"You're scarily good at pretending nothing's wrong."
Aimi's eyes widened. As a martial artist, it was embarrassing—not noticing someone enter, let alone realising he was standing right next to her. Since when?
Her brows furrowed.
"What…" she exhaled. "Why are you here?"
"Why can't I be? I missed Aimi-chan..." he said, then casually waved at the group of kids across the room who were beaming at him. "And the kids." While wearing that stupid grin that screamed, long time no see~.
"I said I'd let you know when I finish thinking, didn't I?"
"But you're not even thinkin', are ya?"
She didn't respond.
"Stop running~ You wanna be a sorcerer, don'tcha?" he leaned against the wall beside her, his tone light. "If you didn't, you would've dismissed the idea already. I know you, Aimi-chan~"
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"You don't."
"I do."
She stood up straight, visibly irritated, and shot him a sharp glare.
"Aicha~" he raised his hands in a cutesy, defensive pose. "Don't look so mad at me. I'm just worried about you~"
She didn't reply.
"Look, the students are waiting! Five minutes is up~" he reached out and patted her head lightly, his tone playful enough to dissolve the tension. "You should get back to class. Let's talk over dinner."
Aimi got back to teaching the class. Somehow, this time, with him sitting just there, her mind felt less chaotic.
The lesson wrapped up before she realised. Her students bowed and thanked her, some of them immediately scurrying over to Gojo for a chat. He greeted each of them like old friends.
They loved him.
Once class ended, Aimi slipped away for a quick rinse. When she returned, the last of the students had already bowed out. Their voices were gone, replaced by the soft tapping of rain outside.
She picked up the cleaning equipment and began mopping the wooden floor in steady strokes. Her body just needs to move.
Gojo hadn't left. He sat cross-legged on the floor near the wall, still munching on something from the vending machine, crumbs gathering in the folds of his dark uniform.
"You done pretending you're just the janitor?" he asked between bites.
"You done being an uninvited pest?" she shot back flatly, not even looking at him.
"Ouch, you're harsher today, Aimi-chan~" He stood up and wandered toward her, pretending to clutch his heart in pain.
"Sorry. I'm in a bad mood, if you can't tell." She put the mop away. "Where are we going?"
Gojo picked up her bag and held it out to her."Tonkatsu Don?"
"No." She slung the bag over her shoulder. "Something warmer."
"Ramen?"
"Okay."