The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Scheduled to spar under Masamichi Yaga's supervision, the three first-year students arrived at the field after their first class. Unfortunately for them, it was not uncommon for Satoru Gojo to meander to the training grounds and watch his fellow sorcerers between classes. Shoko swore he watched the first-years train, waiting for them to flounder. It was a personal boost to his colossal ego. And to her dismay, Satoru had dragged her along, reassuring her on their walk that watching his classmates spar was just practical learning—something he would never gain from time spent in a classroom.

Shoko settled on the stone stairs before lighting a cigarette, which she kept out of sight when Yaga-sensei turned back to glare at them. Suguru trailed behind them, choosing to sit beside his best friend. But, ever so often, he leaned forward to the girl sitting a stair beneath them.

Sayuri Sato.

Satoru watched his friend closely; his left brow raised each time Suguru whispered something over her shoulder. She would nod or turn her head in his direction, delicately tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear as she watched her classmates spar. Sometimes, Suguru would even point to Haibara or Nanami, which led him to believe he was critiquing their form or pointing out flawed judgment. But he couldn't be sure without interjecting into their quiet conversation.

It bothered him.

Suguru had spent the last month parading after the girl in his spare time, and still, he couldn't pry a damn thing out of him. Shoko didn't care, and that frustrated Satoru beyond belief. The strangest part was that Sayuri and Suguru hardly spoke in the presence of others. Unlike her interactions with Nanami and Haibara, their conversations were quiet, and their closeness was unnoticed unless he really watched. This afternoon was no different.

Sayuri propped her elbows on the stair behind her, leaning back to bask in the sunlight as Nanami blocked and deflected Haibara's offense. Yaga-sensei shouted both praise and corrections across the grounds, all things that Nanami quickly adjusted. Haibara tried his best.

She had come to know those two well in the last month, having spent nearly every day with them in some capacity. If not in class, then in the field or exploring the city when allowed—Kento refused to sneak away otherwise. While she admired Nanami's ability to integrate discipline and principle into his personal life, it was most helpful in formal jujutsu training. He was the strongest in combat amongst their small class of three. He was swift, calculated, and efficient.

Yu was… sweet. While his chipper personality was a buffer between Nanami's no-nonsense ways and her inherent pessimism, his ability was that of an average first-year student. The same could have been said for Sayuri, as Intuition was an offensive technique that could leave her defenseless in the field. And when they sparred without cursed technique, she struggled through each match.

Sayuri knew she was capable of more. Nothing was more frustrating than watching Nanami and Haibara surpass her when she still had so much more to give. Even so, Sayuri kept her background a secret—and with it, her ability to use another technique.

She trained until exhaustion and accepted Yaga-sensei's harsh criticism, correcting the mistakes as best she could, but ultimately, her choices cost Sayuri her first true field mission against a Grade 3 cursed spirit. She and Nanami were arguing over the Tombs of Star Corridor with breakfast (Yu was half asleep in the chair beside them) when Yaga-sensei approached with the news. It was disappointing, to say the least, and Nanami's gaze flickered with acknowledgment as she gathered her things to leave, but he offered no reassurance.

So, with Nanami and Haibara in the field, she sought out the company of a close friend.

Suguru and Sayuri sat outside, positioned on either side of her prized chessboard. Golden rays from the setting sun cast a warm glow over a courtyard lined by three large cherry blossom trees. The gentle rustle of leaves and petals created a serene backdrop for their game.

Sayuri glanced at Suguru, admiring his contemplative expression. After their first game, he was always determined to beat her. But this time, he was not fully invested, and neither was she.

"Sayuri," Suguru said, looking up from the board.

She had come to admire how her name sounded on his lips—soft and steady, yet eager to gain her attention. It was different with Nanami and Haibara. There was never judgment behind Suguru's eyes, only a glimmer of interest, as if he held onto every word she offered and stored it away for safekeeping.

"Yes?" She leaned forward, the breeze pushing stray pieces of white hair into her eyes.

"I realize that I've been unfair..." Dark eyes searched for hers. There was something different behind them this time, something she could not place. "I never shared my cursed technique with you, yet I know yours."

Sayuri straightened, the corners of her mouth tugging upward softly as her fingers nudged the chessboard aside. She wondered about the specifics of Suguru's abilities, knowing he was considered one of the strongest sorcerers of his age. But she would have never pried the information from him. "You don't have to tell me," she told him with a playful tilt of her head. "But I guess it is only fair…"

He had learned more about Intuition as each day passed—bits and pieces she willingly offered or showed him after their exchange in the gymnasium. And while she may have felt vulnerable in those moments, Suguru allowed her the unspoken advantage. A self-binding vow that he, too, may have grasped at against an opponent. But, here, he did not care about that. She was no opponent. He only wished to be her equal.

She was special.

"Well…" Suguru took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "My technique… it allows me to manipulate and control cursed spirits," he said. "If a curse is defeated, I can absorb it, gain its abilities, and use them as I see fit."

"Absorb it?" Sayuri repeated, her left brow arched in question. "How?"

The second-year hesitated, wishing, if only for a moment, he could read her mind and understand how she truly felt about him—or if knowledge of his technique would change her opinion in the slightest. Part of him craved affirmation that she would never see him as the monster he sometimes felt himself turning into.

He extended a hand between them, opening his palm as his arm rested on the chessboard. The pieces scattered or toppled around him to places they didn't belong. Sayuri watched them indifferently, her eyes refocusing on Suguru as he spoke. "Cursed energy gathers in my palm," he said slowly. "The cursed spirit is usually weakened by this point, so it isn't difficult to pull the curse in." His gaze lifts from his open hand to find her. "Then I must consume it."

"Then you can control it." Not a question but a clarification.

Suguru nodded, a faint smile touching his lips but not reaching his eyes. "We do what we do to protect people, yes? Those curses are better under my control than out there hurting others." He had told himself that a hundred times, easily, yet the script felt more ingenuine each time.

Sayuri noticed the subtle strain in his posture and how his fist clenched and unclenched as he pulled it away. She had come to recognize these shifts in his expressions and moods, quickly picking up on things he may not have voiced. Things that made him uncomfortable.

"Is it painful?" Sayuri asked. "When you… consume it?"

Suguru rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. How to put it lightly? For her sake.

"Not… painful. But every time I absorb a cursed spirit, it's like taking in a piece of their malice, their negativity. It eats at you from the inside." He paused, finding the strength to meet her eyes again. "It's awful. There's this constant, gnawing presence in my mind. Sometimes, I feel their rage and despair, like they're trying to claw their way back out. But it is my burden to bear—no one else's."

"I'm sorry." Sayuri rested both arms on the table, leaning closer as he fell silent. "But this is your cursed technique for a reason…" she murmured. "The universe would not give you something it felt you couldn't handle."

Suguru looked away, his expression clouded. Uncertainty hung in the air. "I guess. Many sorcerers would assume that absorbing cursed spirits is incredibly powerful, which is it… but it changes you."

Sayuri reached out, placing a careful yet reassuring hand on his arm. She had seen the comforting gesture done a thousand times in movies, but it immediately felt awkward between them. Their eyes met, and she would've given anything not to feel the rush of warmth in her cheeks.

"Don't let it," she whispered. "You're stronger than you think."

But what if it already had? What if it was too late?

He desperately wanted to ask her, but the words tightened in his throat. He had said enough. Suguru forced himself to relax, but unease lingered in his chest, leaving him more vulnerable than before. "Thank you."

The girl nodded, offering him a small smile. "I think that makes us even now."

Suguru chuckled softly, amusement breaking through his usual demeanor. "I guess it does."

The cherry blossoms fell around them as they sat together in comfortable silence. Having forgotten about the field mission, Sayuri nudged the chessboard aside and rested her head on folded arms. She watched him, admiring how the sun glistened against pieces of dark hair. But guilt ate at her as she closed her eyes. By no means were they even. There was still so much that he didn't know, and she had no intention of sharing it with him.

Nanami waited for an opening in the grass ahead of them, lunging forward with a powerful thrust aimed at Haibara's midsection. Yu twisted at the last moment, letting the force of Nanami's strike carry him forward. And with his opponent off balance, Haibara directed a kick to his chest. However, his movement didn't land, and Nanami dodged at the last moment. The dark-haired first-year fell flat onto his back in the grass, his chest heaving with breath.

Though frustrated by his mistakes, Haibara raised his hands in a playful gesture of surrender. "I'll let you win this time, Nanami." He pushed himself upright and took the hand his comrade offered. Together, they trudged toward their small audience. Yaga-sensei was waiting with comments scribbled in the margins of the paper on his clipboard.

As they talked, Sayuri tilted her head back a bit further, finding the upside view of Suguru Geto behind her. Her gaze traced his sharp features, admiring the calm, contemplative eyes that slowly met hers. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

At the bottom of the stairs, Nanami motioned for her attention. He called for her once, his posture growing stiff when she refused to acknowledge him. It was her turn to spar, which she despised with so many bystanders. She already knew how it would go. Yaga-sensei would announce that she couldn't defend herself had her life depended on it—and it would. He would pressure her for more because he knew what she was hiding.

And he would only tolerate her secrecy for so long.

"Pay attention," Geto muttered.

"I am," she reassured. "Nanami hates when you ignore him. Eventually, he'll stop tryi—"

"Sato!" Yaga yelled, silencing the girl midsentence. "Are you deaf? On your feet! I don't like waiting."

Sayuri's countenance paled as she stood and descended the stairs quickly. "Yes, sensei."

Haibara offered her a playful shove in passing, and begrudgingly, Sayuri made her way across the grass. She reached lithe arms over her head, stretching left and right as she awaited Nanami to catch his breath. However, when she turned to face her classmate, the blond first-year was seated on the stairs.

"Nanamin," she called. "I don't like waiting either. Let's get this over with."

"I'm ignoring you," he said, humorlessly.

Fair enough.

She crossed her arms, glancing at Haibara before looking at Yaga-sensei. Ideally, Yaga would dismiss them, and she would spar another day. Another day when there was less of a crowd. "Then I guess we will have to wait for Haibara to stop sucking wind," she mused.

Shoko's laugh echoed through the grounds, her amusement shifting to an uncontrollable cough as smoke caught in her lungs. She swatted the smoke from her face and dropped the remnants of her cigarette onto the stone, snuffing the embers with her sneaker.

"Not funny!" Haibara stuck his tongue out at Sayuri. "Last time we sparred, I won."

Having regained her composure, Shoko patted her friend's shoulder. "Why don't you spar with your girlfriend, Suguru?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

Yaga cursed under his breath, finally looking up from his clipboard. "Enough of this nonsense!" The man turned to the group of students and scratched the back of his neck. "Satoru Gojo!" he called. "Get on your feet."

The girl blinked in surprise, color draining from her already pale countenance. She was a year younger than Satoru—not that age mattered. Her skills wouldn't compare even if they were the same year.

"Yes, sensei!" Gojo happily pushed himself to stand, shoving his hands into either pocket as he hurried down the stairs. Everyone who remained on the stairs rolled their eyes at his eagerness. And as he came to rest a few steps ahead of her, Sayuri felt her chest tighten. She refused to be humiliated by Satoru Gojo.

He tilted his head. "Ready?"

Sayuri nodded, her stance as steady and focused as she could manage with an audience watching. "Ready."

Nanami, Haibara, Suguru, Shoko, and Yaga fell silent as the pair stilled, curious how Sayuri would hold up against Satoru. But Gojo stretched his arms out lazily, his grin widening. "I know it may be intimidating, especially in front of Suguru, but don't hold back, okay? Show me everything you've got." He placed his hands against his lower back and bent backward, stretching his upper body.

"Please." Sayuri rolled her eyes, her posture softening as he stalled. "We all know you enjoy being the center of attention."

"You wound me," he teased. Then, before Sayuri could reset, Gojo lunged forward with incredible speed, aiming a punch at Sayuri's midsection.

Sayuri's reflexes kicked in, jumping aside just in time. She countered with a swift kick aimed at Gojo's ribs. Gojo dodged her effortlessly, his eyes gleaming behind those tacky glasses.

"Very good," he remarked before launching a series of rapid strikes. Sayuri dodged each, struggling to counter his attacks. Satoru placed pressure on her from the start, each movement as calculated and powerful as the next. And despite the apparent gap in their skill levels, Sayuri grew frustrated. She cursed under her breath as each offense pressed her backward.

"Are you dancing or sparring, Sato?" Yaga yelled. "Make a move!"

Hearing the frustration in his voice, Sayuri suddenly realized Yaga had arranged this partnership for a reason. Whether or not she won each match, she could keep up with Haibara. Perhaps Nanami, too, with time and the use of cursed technique. But she could not and would never match Satoru's skill in combat. Yaga wanted this to piss her off—to push her past the point of no return. And she hated him for that.

Sayuri refocused on Satoru, watching his movements, timing the chaos of his attacks, and memorizing his footwork. And just when it seemed she could throw a punch, her cousin beat her to it. Time seemed to slow as his fist swung toward her face. Sayuri ducked, but Gojo stayed with her movements, his leg coming around to sweep both legs out from under her.

But his leg stopped short of her body as if an invisible barrier had appeared between them. The impact revealed an almost imperceptible shimmer around her—a subtle distortion unmistakably similar to Infinity.

Breathless, Sayuri stumbled backward, her chest heaving as Satoru stared at her. Users of Infinity could manipulate and distort reality, slowing anything that approached. Her mother had described Infinity as only a component of the inherited Limitless technique passed down from the Gojo Clan. She had always wondered why. Why inherit or use a technique associated with a family that refused her? She found no purpose in it and instead poured her cursed energy into the technique that made her unique—Intuition. But here, he had left her no choice.

And his reaction was priceless.

"What was that?" Gojo asked, his brows furrowing as if he didn't recognize the base state of his Limitless technique. His stance grew lax, his mouth agape as he looked to their audience for clarification. Met by only stunned silence, he refocused on Sayuri. "Was that one of your little mind tricks, brat?"

Sayuri cocked her fist back, thrusting it forward in hopes of hitting the cocky second-year square in the face. But just as his kick had been blocked, her hand stopped short. She aimed another punch at Gojo's midsection, but his technique repelled her strike again, and Sayuri's own Infinity mirrored the effect, creating a fascinating dance of untouchable defenses.

"Good God," Yaga muttered. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Gojo leaped back, his playful demeanor turning serious. He attacked again, this time with a low sweep of his leg, but once again, his strike stopped short, unable to make contact. "Stop playing!" Gojo shouted, his brows furrowing. Sayuri remained still, focusing as his attacks intensified. Each was met with the same invisible resistance.

The usual lighthearted banter amongst the young sorcerers fell silent. Nanami, Haibara, Shoko, and Yaga watched the match, secretly amused by Gojo's struggle. And perched on the edge of his stair, Suguru's eyes were fixed on Sayuri as she stopped Gojo's relentless attacks. She wasn't even attempting to spar anymore—she was trying to get under his skin.

Mouth ajar, Haibara glanced at Nanami. "Is she…"

"I think so," the blond murmured.

"I didn't know she could do that! Why didn't she tell us?" Haibara beamed with admiration. "She's amazing."

Gojo's frustration grew with each passing moment. He could feel the barrier—a weakened version of Infinity—preventing him from landing a single blow. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, his composure slipping. But Sayuri could feel herself slipping, too. Each block sucked more cursed energy from her. Breath tightened in her chest as she felt her defenses breaking down. Her legs no longer felt like her own.

Determined to push through, Sayuri focused on maintaining Infinity. But her barrier flickered, and for a moment, Gojo's fist came dangerously close to making contact. She deflected it in time, but the effort left her visibly shaken.

One more powerful punch was all it took for Sayuri's barrier to flicker and fail. With limited cursed energy to absorb the blow, Satoru's fist connected with her nose with a deafening crack, and the impact flung her backward.

The sun danced above her, mixing with other colored speckles. Sayuri wondered if she had died or simply forgotten how to breathe. Eventually, she mustered the strength to prop herself against her elbows, and the angle forced warm liquid to cascade from her nose. A hand instinctively moved to her face, and pulling back, she found her fingertips coated in blood. Realization settled in, and she looked at the white-haired first-year moving toward her.

"Who are you?" Towering over Sayuri, Gojo stared at her, his jaw clenched.

"Enough, Satoru," Yaga growled. He trudged across the field after them.

Though too impatient to wait for her response and uncaring what his teacher had to say, Gojo swept his arms outward. The air shifted, collecting dust, grass, and rocks around them as a blue orb of condensed energy formed above his palm. The intensity of the cursed energy was so palpable that Sayuri could not help but stare at it through the tears that blurred her vision. Pieces of white hair flittered from her shoulders, blowing toward him as if the orb would swallow her whole. But she wasn't afraid.

He wouldn't dare.

"Can you do this too, brat?" he asked her.

"Satoru, stop!" Suguru shouted. "What the hell is your problem?" He shoved his friend aside, and the sorcerers watched as the dark-haired second-year sank to his knees, taking her dazed face into his hands. Another surprise."Are you alright?"

Sayuri flinched with his touch, her eyes wide as they focused on Suguru. She pushed herself to sit upright, a bloodied hand swatting his from her face. "I'm fine."

Satoru blinked with disappointment, the blue orb fading as he watched his friend tend to the girl. The collected debris floated side to side, eventually settling at his feet.

Haibara joined Geto moments later, and Shoko pushed past him, willing to tend to Sayuri's injury if needed—it was good practice. Nanami merely hung behind them, both hands pressed into his pockets. A once-over suggested she had nothing more than a broken nose. Like Gojo, he was more interested in what they had just witnessed than the injury.

Yaga-sensei swatted the back of Gojo's head with his clipboard, his anger melting into background noise as Sayuri stared at Geto. Had he lost his trust in her? The weight of her innate technique had always felt like a burden, and under his scrutinizing gaze, it felt too heavy to bear. Her mind raced with doubts, and for a moment, she considered slipping into his mind to find solace in knowing where they stood. The silence between them grew oppressive, each passing second amplifying her anxiety.

Until Shoko offered Suguru tissues.

He gingerly placed one against her nose, and Sayuri winced again, the pain sharp and immediate. A second wave of tears blurred her vision. "I said I'm fine, Suguru." Despite the tremor in her voice, she pushed him away a second time.

"No, you're not," Geto insisted. He sighed, coaxing the tissue into her hand.

"What the hell was that?" Saturo snapped, drawing the others' attention.

"Watch yourself, Gojo!" Yaga warned.

The second-year brushed past Nanami, earning puzzled glances from the others. But his comrades remained silent, selfishly wanting to know the truth.

Sayuri wiped the blood from her nose, studying how bright red stained the tissue. When she swallowed, she could taste iron. "Infinity," she admitted.

Gojo's frustration erupted. "Impossible! Infinity is unique to my family."

"Calm down, Satoru!" Suguru turned to look at his friend, his body unconsciously settling between him and Sayuri. "I'm sure there is an explanation, but maybe she should get looked at first. Don't be an asshole."

But Gojo waved off his friend, his anger uncontained. "No, Suguru! If she can use Infinity, I want an explanation now."

Sayuri looked past them to find Yaga hiding behind dark sunglasses; his mouth pulled into a fine line. He wasn't coming to her rescue—he had done this purposefully. Her truth was laid out for them to understand, whether or not she provided clarification. There were no secrets amongst comrades.

Her name was Sayuri Gojo.

Sayuri's resolve wavered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Suddenly, she was back in her old school, shrinking under every scrutinizing eye. These classmates were no better than the others. She pushed herself from the grass, her surroundings spinning as she straightened. "I don't have to explain myself to any of you," she snapped, rounding on Satoru next. "And I certainly don't care if you trust me."

She stormed off the field, ignoring Haibara as he called after her. His voice faded as her footsteps echoed on the stone stairs. The six of them remained motionless for several seconds. Even their teacher scratched at the back of his neck before pointing Satoru in the opposite direction—his office.

Suguru was the next one to break from the group. But when it became apparent that he was going after Sayuri, Shoko thrust her arm out to stop him.

"Someone should go check on her," he insisted.

"Yeah," the girl said. "That someone will be me."

Running, Shoko Ieiri stuffed a half-empty carton of cigarettes into her bag as she followed the cobblestone path. She nearly tripped twice but found herself outside Sayuri's dorm just as the girl slammed it closed. Frustration huffed from her lips as she raised her knuckles to knock. "Sayuri," Shoko called. "Can I come in?"

"No," the girl responded from the other side.

Shoko rolled her eyes, reaching for the handle. "Well, I'm coming in anyway." Turning the handle to find it unlocked, she pushed it open before Sayuri could stop her. The first-year glared at her intruder and moved toward the window on the opposite side of the room.

"I said I was fine," she muttered.

The room was plain, illuminated by natural light and hints of greenery. Small ceramic pots sat on the floor or the edge of Sayuri's desk, varying shapes of fans and leaves cascading toward their only source of sunlight. Her desk was nothing more than organized chaos, stacked with books, pens, and keepsake chess pieces made of different shades of marble. And her bed, the comforter a shade of blue-gray that resembled her eyes, was surprisingly left unmade. Shoko refocused on Sayuri, taking hesitant steps toward the girl until she was within reach. She then placed a gentle hand on her arm, coaxing her around. Shoko noticed the blood first—some dried to her nose and chin.

"Can I help you?" Shoko asked gently.

Sayuri wiped at her nose, smearing the shade of red as if it were paint. She sniffed, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Why?"

Shoko shrugged. "I like helping people." Reaching into her bag for tissues, she motioned for Sayuri to sit at the edge of her bed. Once seated, Shoko pulled the desk chair closer, taking a seat before pressing a tissue to her face. Her movements were slow, gaining confidence as time passed without the girl's refusal. They were getting somewhere.

Once her face was clean, Shoko moved closer to inspect her nose.

"Careful." Sayuri winced as Shoko touched her injury, the pain sharp and throbbing from a hard blow. She hated pain, and the cozy confines of her dorm room suddenly felt suffocating, her discomfort amplified by clutter and the presence of a mere stranger.

"Sit still," Shoko urged. Her hands began to glow with the soft, iridescent energy of reverse cursed technique. And as Sayuri closed her eyes, the warmth of healing energy began to soothe the pain. "Gojo can be reckless," The second-year spoke idly, her focus remaining on the injury. "Especially when someone else challenges his opinions… or his ability. You should consider his absurd reaction a compliment."

Sayuri managed a small, pained laugh. "I don't need compliments."

The bones in her nose slowly knit themselves back together with meticulous precision. Shoko's touch was careful and sure for a second-year student, a testament to her interest in the healing arts. And as the pain subsided, Sayuri felt a sense of relief wash over her. "Thank you, Shoko," she murmured, reaching up to feel the bridge of her nose.

Shoko smiled, offering the girl a slight shrug. "It's a work in progress." Relaxing back into the seat, silence passed between them before her lips parted again. "You can't just run away, you know? When things don't go your way."

Sayuri deflated against her pillows. "That's not why I left. I could care less about the match." She had expected to lose against Satoru—to think otherwise would have been foolish. She was simply not as strong as him—neither was Nanami or Haibara. "It's about me."

"Then help me understand," Shoko suggested. "I am far more rational than those boys."

She sighed, reluctance evident in her posture and voice. Her lips parted nonetheless. "My mother… was a Gojo. She lived with them as a non-sorcerer and was mistreated because of it," Sayuri confessed. "She met my father and became pregnant when she was young, and when she revealed the news to her family, they exiled her. My father turned his back on her, too."

He had turned his back on them both.

She averted her gaze as she continued. "My mother kept everything from me until it was no longer possible, and when I got older, she hated my use of jujutsu—even more so my inherited ability."

"Limitless," Shoko said.

Sayuri nodded. "I resented her for lying to me for so long… but told myself she was trying to protect me." Nervously, she picked at her fingers. "My mother allowed me to come here because she saw how much it meant to me. She put her past aside for me—under the condition that I attended school as Sayuri Sato." Her hands stilled, resting atop the blue-gray comforter. "I've done everything I could to hide that part of me and honor her request, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore." Her brow creased. "She's gone. She won't know."

Shoko inhaled slowly, her chest expanding as she let the information sink in. "Not many jujutsu sorcerers have more than one cursed technique."

"I know," Sayuri said, her shoulders raising as if she meant to shrug them. "I don't know what it means."

"What about your father?" Shoko pressed. "Do you know anything about him? It could help us figure everything out if he was a sorcerer. Maybe he can read minds, too."

She pursed her lips, finding her description of her technique unsavory. But, in that moment, Sayuri lacked the mental capacity to explain Intuition. It surely was more challenging than Shoko made it seem. "I doubt it. My mother rarely spoke of him. Yaga is the only person who knows this, aside from you."

"Well, maybe you could start there."

Sayuri turned from Shoko, looking out the lone window. "I guess… I just wasn't ready for anyone else to know. I hardly understand Limitless, and Satoru was forcing me to give him answers I don't have."

"Well, you do have one answer..." Shoko said, her expression softening. "You are a member of the Gojo Clan by blood, and I think that scared Satoru shitless out there." She smiled, leaning closer to Sayuri once more. "No matter how strong you are, I doubt he's encountered someone with similar technique. It challenges everything he believes—and what his family told him. I'm sure he just needs time to process."

Sayuri felt her posture soften, her frustration tempered by Shoko's words. "Maybe… but for a second there, I thought he was going to kill me." She laughed, and Shoko eventually joined.

"Suguru wouldn't have allowed that," Shoko smirked.

Sayuri's cheeks flushed crimson as Shoko's casual remark hung in the air. She fumbled with her words, emotions suddenly clouding her focus. Part of her reveled in the idea of Suguru liking her, but she knew it was unlikely. Nothing about her was special enough for him, and she had most likely lost his trust anyway. Guilt gnawed at her, and so she gnawed at her thumbnail.

"Don't," she warned.

Shoko's smirk widened, clearly enjoying Sayuri's discomfort. "Another time, then?" She reached into her bag, the playful expression still hanging from her lips as she placed an unlit cigarette between. "Listen… your secret is safe with me." She stood, lighting the cigarette as she moved toward the door. "Don't let those idiots get to you—especially Satoru. You should, uh… embrace your techniques. All of them. We have each other's back here, but we won't always have each other to rely on in the field, so you should be prepared." Her hand lingered on the doorknob. "By the way, it's pretty badass that you were exiled before birth."

Amusement briefly flickered across her features. "Yeah." Her voice echoed out of the dorm as the second-year exited. "Thank you, Shoko."