A/N at the end of the chapter
Also, for reader, I only have 1 chapters left before we reach up with AO3 and WATTPAD so after the next chapter updates will be weekly and on friday!
CHAPTER 30
POV: Suzue Kujou
It had been a week, and Yuji had finally made it back to Tokyo Jujutsu High. The weight of Satoru's request still lingered in Suzue's thoughts, like a stone at the bottom of a well—heavy, unmoving. She couldn't shake the feeling. The calmness with which he had spoken to her about Yuji only made the situation feel more pressing.
The communications from the field, from Nanami, had already been alarming, involving yet another mysterious special-grade curse. But the way Satoru had looked at her—his normally playful demeanor absent, his tone just a touch more serious—had made it clear. There had been no teasing, no lighthearted banter. Just an unspoken plea.
«You are better than me with this.» Satoru had said, his usual playful air absent. «You'll know how to handle him without trying to fix him right away.»
It was a strange thing for Satoru to say—he was more often the one to leap into action, to fix things without hesitation. But this was different. Yuji wasn't physically hurt. Suzue knew that. Satoru knew that.
Then she had caught a glimpse of Yuji just the night before, when he'd returned to the Tokyo Jujutsu High under the cover of secrecy. He hadn't noticed her, but she had seen enough.
At first glance, he seemed like the Yuji everyone knew—cheerful, maybe a little tired, but nothing overtly concerning. And that's what scared her. Yuji was too good at hiding it, at pretending everything was okay. She could recognize it because she was doing the same thing. They were both wearing masks, and Suzue knew the cost of that too well.
"You'll know how to handle him." Satoru's words echoed again in her mind.
But was that true? The Suzue of a few weeks ago might have known exactly what to do, how to approach Yuji without pushing him too hard, without making him feel like a broken thing that needed mending. But that Suzue felt distant, almost like a memory. Now, after everything she had been through... was she even capable of helping anyone anymore? Now her mind wasn't a safe place. It had become a battleground of its own, no longer a place of peace and reflection but one of quiet turmoil. How could she help him when she wasn't even sure how to help herself?
But she would try. Of course she would. If Yuji needed her, she wouldn't turn away.
Shoko was checking the last remains of Suzue's injuries, those she'd sustained during the cursed mission at the village. She was sitting in her office, the sterile smell of the infirmary mixed with the faintest scent of cigarette smoke. The wounds had healed well in the week since then, but the burn on her arm, that angry scar, would remain as a permanent reminder of the battle. Shoko was nothing if not thorough, though, even if the check-up was mostly routine at this point.
Suzue glanced down at her arm, she flexed her fingers slowly, testing the muscles, but the pain had long since faded, so she had started with her training again. The skin was smooth now, but the discoloration was unmistakable, a patch of memory etched into her skin.
«You're all healed up.» Shoko said, leaning back in her chair as she lit a cigarette, despite the "no smoking" signs plastered on the walls. The familiar click of the lighter punctuated the quiet room. «But seriously, Suzue, you've got to stop coming back in pieces every time. You're not indestructible like some people around here.» Her tone was sharp, but there was a warmth beneath the words, a kind of gruff concern that was uniquely Shoko.
Suzue managed a small smile, used to Shoko's no-nonsense demeanor by now. «I'll try.» she murmured, though both of them knew it wasn't that simple. In their world, getting hurt was inevitable.
Shoko exhaled a stream of smoke, leaning back even further in her chair as she assessed Suzue with a practiced eye. «Yeah, sure. Try harder.» she muttered, taking another drag. «Or one day you're not going to walk back in here at all, and I'd prefer to avoid that.» Her voice held its usual dry edge, but Suzue knew her colleague's concern was genuine. Shoko didn't let many people in, but those she cared for? She made sure they knew it in her own way. A small part of her had even come to find it comforting—something steady amidst all the chaos that had become her life lately. She'd miss these small moments if they ever disappeared.
«Thanks for checking on me.» Suzue said as she stood, ready to leave and face the other task looming ahead of her. «I should get going… I'm a little pressed for time.» Her mind was already turning toward Yuji, thinking of what she would say to him, how she would approach the situation without making him feel cornered.
Shoko exhaled, the smoke curling up lazily. «To babysit the kid?» Her voice was casual, but her sharp eyes flicked toward Suzue with something more behind them.
Suzue nodded, though she felt the tension rising in her chest. «Yeah. Satoru's asked me to keep an eye on him.» She hesitated for a moment before continuing. «I'm worried. He looked... fine, but that's what bothers me.»
Shoko leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. «You think he's pretending?»
Suzue pressed her lips together, nodding. «Aren't we all?»
Shoko let out a dry chuckle. «Touché.» She took another drag of her cigarette, eyeing Suzue carefully. «You're not trying to avoid talking about why Satoru's been leaving your room looking like he hasn't slept in days, aren't you?»
The question caught Suzue off guard. She blinked, her mind taking a moment to process the abrupt change in topic. «I—uh, what?»
Shoko gave her a look, that knowing look that always made Suzue feel like she was being dissected. «Oh, come on, don't play dumb.» She said, leaning forward with a knowing smile. «Word around the school is that Satoru's been leaving your room early in the morning. Disheveled. Looking like he hadn't slept a wink.»
Suzue's stomach dropped. She could feel the color rising in her cheeks, her face flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the burn scar on her arm. "Oh god not this."
«More than once, actually.» Shoko continued with a pointed look, clearly enjoying Suzue's flustered reaction. «That new assistant -Hibiki?- saw him leaving this morning again. Thought you should know.»
Suzue's eyes widened. "More than once?" Her mind raced. She had thought Hibiki had only seen Satoru leave her room that one time. How in the world had the rumor grown so quickly? And why, for the love of all things cursed, could Satoru not use his limitless powers to just... Disappear? Avoid being seen when it counted?
Suzue could feel her cheeks warming as she quickly tried to compose herself. «He does it on purpose.» She muttered under her breath, cheeks flushing slightly. She swallowed, suddenly aware of how defensive she sounded. «I mean, yes, he was in my room, but- I don't even know why I'm explaining this.» Suzue felt the words tumbling out of her mouth, her frustration evident. «I've been having nightmares. Bad ones, you know? So he just—he sleeps there. Nothing's… nothing's happened.»
"Yet." Suzue thought, swallowing hard. She was being ridiculous.
Satoru had been her anchor lately. His presence, as chaotic as it was, kept her grounded in ways she didn't fully understand. Maybe that's why he'd been spending so many nights in her room. Not that she had invited him, not explicitly, but his presence had kept the nightmares at bay.
Shoko gave her a long, appraising look, clearly unconvinced. «Mmm-hmm.»
«I swear.» Suzue could hardly breathe through the embarrassment. Shoko was relentless, and no amount of stammering or logical explanation was going to save her now. «I mean it. It's just... been blown out of proportion.»
Shoko blew out another puff of smoke, her teasing smile softening just slightly. «Don't worry. I'm glad you've got someone looking out for you, even if it's the most annoying man on the planet.»
Suzue bit her lip, her mind a swirl of conflicting emotions. "Why am I even trying to explain this?" The last thing she needed was more confusion, more mess, and yet, Satoru's presence had been the only thing keeping her grounded lately.
She wasn't even sure herself what the situation between them was anymore but she had long accepted it for what it was, even if she hadn't accounted for the whirlwind of teenage energy that had latched onto this gossip for what felt like forever. And Satoru—god, Satoru's been feeding into it. He was probably having the time of his life, making things worse with his usual reckless abandon. She could already imagine him dropping hints at the students just vague enough to make the situation even more scandalous.
Suzue sighed, rubbing her temples. "Great, just great."
Shoko took another long drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly as she watched Suzue squirm under her teasing. «You're both a mess, you know that?» she said, her tone shifting slightly, becoming a bit softer, though still laced with her usual sarcasm, «But it's good to see things finally heading somewhere, I was getting tired of this whole 'will they, won't they' torture.»
Suzue opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn't come. Shoko's teasing was sharp, as usual, but there was a layer of truth beneath the surface that Suzue couldn't entirely deny. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of confusion, tension, and… whatever it was between her and Satoru. And now, with everything else happening, she couldn't help but feel even more lost.
«I... really should be going.» Suzue muttered, her voice quiet as she tried to regain her composure. «Thanks again, Shoko.»
Shoko waved her off with a lazy hand. «Go on, then. And tell Satoru to stop being such a show-off.»
Suzue's cheeks flushed further, but she forced herself to remain calm. "This is fine." She could deal with it. She shot her a look, half embarrassed and half amused. She'd come to appreciate Shoko's blunt honesty, even if it left her feeling exposed at times.
As she stepped out of the infirmary, the cool breeze of the late afternoon hit her, bringing with it the scents of the surrounding trees and grass. Suzue let out a long breath, her mind already turning to the task ahead—Yuji. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking the same precarious line she had been treading for weeks now. Trying to keep it all together, pretending to be fine for the sake of everyone else, when inside…
Inside, everything was crumbling.
She would try to help. Whether or not she could manage, she didn't know. But she would try. Satoru had kept her standing. And now, it was her turn to do the same for Yuji.
As Suzue stretched her arms over her head, the tension in her muscles from the previous days of stress began to ease, even if only a little. The afternoon sun was soft against her skin as she stepped out of Shoko's office and made her way toward the hidden entrance leading to the underground chamber where Yuji was staying. The subtle sounds of the schoolyard—the rustling of leaves, the wind brushing through the trees—brought a temporary calm to her mind. The air was crisp, the kind that bites a little as autumn creeps in, and she breathed it in deeply as she walked.
She knew what awaited her below, but for just a moment, she allowed herself the brief reprieve of walking through the school's serene exterior. Tomorrow, everything would change. The exchange event was upon them, and Satoru, being Satoru, was… well, who knew what he was doing. Motivating? Riling them up? Inciting a full-scale butt-kicking revolution, as he liked to say? He certainly wasn't being subtle about it.
Suzue could only imagine the chaos he was brewing, but that was Satoru. Always unpredictable, always dramatic.
This event was more than just an exchange between the two schools; it was Satoru's chosen moment to reveal to the jujutsu world that Yuji was alive, defying every bureaucratic decree that had condemned him. Alive and kicking. Though alive might have been a bit of an exaggeration, considering the state Yuji's mind was in.
Satoru had entrusted this delicate moment to her, knowing she would take care of Yuji without pressing too hard, and without trying to force him to "be okay." So Suzue prepared herself for the emotional task ahead.
The breeze tousled her dark hair as she made her way around the school's exterior, heading toward the hidden entrance to the underground rooms. It was a bit of a trek, weaving through the outer gardens and eventually sneaking down into the depths where Yuji had been hidden and trained in secret for the last months. Her footsteps were light on the stone pathway, but the weight of what awaited her settled back on her shoulders.
She reached the door and paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before peeking inside. To her surprise, the first thing she heard was laughter—loud, unrestrained laughter.
When she peeked into the room, she was greeted by an unexpected sight. Yuji, sitting cross-legged on the couch, was doubled over, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. And next to him, perched on the armrest like he owned the place, was Satoru, clearly mid-story.
«I'm telling you, Suzue was out cold. Floating in the river, and I had to fish her out, unconscious and half-dead.» Satoru was saying dramatically, gesturing wildly. «And would you believe it, Yuji? A fish—an actual fish—swam up her nose! She didn't even notice!»
Yuji howled with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks. «No way!» he gasped, trying to catch his breath.
Suzue stared at them both, utterly bewildered. "A fish in my nose?" She could feel the frustration bubbling up inside her. "What the hell is he telling him now?"
Satoru glanced over at Suzue, his smile widening as he caught her watching. «Oh, hey! Look who's here, the star of the fish-in-the-nose story herself.»
Suzue gave him a flat look, stepping into the room fully. «I don't even want to know how you came up with that.»
«Just telling him how I saved your life in the most heroic way possible.» Satoru shrugged, clearly unfazed.
«Right.» Suzue muttered, her lips quirking up in a half-smile despite herself. «Very heroic.»
With a lazy stretch, Satoru hopped off the armrest and straightened up, sauntering over to Suzue with that lazy confidence he always carried. He leaned in closer than necessary, just enough to brush his shoulder against hers, a subtle gesture of support as he whispered, «You've got this.» His hand briefly touched the small of her back, his fingers resting there for just a moment.
«Alright, I've got to make a phone call,» he said, giving Yuji a final pat on the shoulder. «You two take your time. I'll be close by, obviously, but…» His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Suzue. She gave a brief nod, acknowledging his subtle hint. He might be giving her space, but he was never really gone. Not when it came to Yuji, not with the binding vow that still tied Sukuna to her. Satoru knew better than to leave her alone with the vessel of the King of Curses for too long, but for now, he was giving them room to breathe.
With that, Satoru slipped out the door, leaving behind the fading sound of his steps and Suzue standing in the soft light of the room. The moment he was gone, the energy in the air shifted—Yuji's laughter tapered off, the weight of reality settling back into place.
Suzue looked at Yuji, who had settled back into the couch, his laughter fading into an awkward silence. She settled into the couch next to him, the fabric rough beneath her fingers as she stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. She was close enough to offer comfort, but not so close as to crowd him.
Her hand reached out instinctively, ruffling his hair in that familiar, sisterly way she knew brought him some comfort. His unruly pink locks fell back into place, as wild and untamed as always. «How are you doing?» she asked gently, her voice soft but laced with concern. She searched his face for any sign of what was going on beneath the surface. «How's the training been? Did Nanami go too hard on you?»
Yuji grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. «Training's been fine. You know Nanami. He's pissed off at everyone, all the time.» He glanced away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. «And he's, uh… still a little mad with you about the whole 'almost getting set on fire' thing.»
«Great.» Suzue let out a soft laugh, though it felt a little hollow, leaning back into the couch, her hands resting on her lap. «Of course he's still mad about that, he seems the type to holds onto grudges like they're precious artifacts.» She paused, watching him closely. His shoulders were tense, and there was a tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He's pretending. Suzue could feel it—the tension beneath Yuji's facade, the way his shoulders were just a little too stiff, his smile a little too bright.
The conversation was light, almost casual, and for a few moments, Suzue let it stay that way. She didn't press, didn't probe too deeply. If he needed time, she wasn't about to rush him into talking about things he wasn't ready to face.
He was trying so hard to be the Yuji everyone expected him to be—cheerful, strong, unbreakable—but it was only a matter of time before the cracks started to show.
And they did.
'
Yuji shifted uncomfortably beside her, his gaze dropping to the floor. His hand, which had been resting on the back of his neck, dropped to his lap, fingers clenching into a tight fist as if trying to hold something fragile together. «Kujou-san…» His voice, usually bright with an unbreakable optimism, now wavered, barely more than a whisper. «Can I ask you something?»
Suzue turned slightly, her expression softening at the sight of him. There was something about the way Yuji looked then—like a child caught in a storm, struggling to find his footing. «Of course. You can ask me anything.»
He kept his eyes on the floor, his breathing slow and controlled—too controlled. Yuji hesitated, his brow furrowed deeply as if the weight of his question might crush him. «Do you ever feel like you're just… going through the motions? Like, no matter what you do, it's not enough?»
The question hung between them, heavy and unspoken, a mirror reflecting back at her. Suzue felt a familiar pang in her chest, a dull ache that thrummed beneath her ribs. She watched him, tracing the lines of his face, the way his usually bright eyes were now shadowed with guilt, weighed down by a burden far too heavy for someone his age. He was crumbling right in front of her, and it hit her all too hard—because she knew what that felt like.
«Yeah. I do.» Her voice came out softer than she intended, barely above a whisper. She hadn't expected to share this part of herself, but the words seemed to spill out unbidden. And maybe, in speaking them to Yuji, she could find a way to believe them herself. «All the time, actually.» Suzue had known this would come up eventually, but she hadn't been sure how to navigate it. How could she? There were no easy answers for something like this.
Yuji looked up at her, his eyes searching hers as if trying to figure out how she could understand what he was feeling. «But… you're always so put together. I mean, I know you've been through a lot, but… you don't show it. I don't think I'm that strong.»
Suzue met his gaze, and for a moment, she saw herself in him—the same guilt, the same self-blame, the same feeling of being not enough. The irony wasn't lost on her. He saw her as strong because she, too, had mastered the art of pretending. «Yuji, I'm not as strong as you think.» She paused, choosing her next words with care, knowing that what she said mattered «I… I've been going through the motions for a while now. Smiling when I need to, pretending everything's fine. But inside, I feel just as lost.»
Yuji's brow furrowed, his gaze intense as if trying to figure out how she could possibly feel the way he did. «But how do you do it? How do you… keep going when it feels like you're just… falling apart?»
Suzue's hand drifted instinctively to her arm, where the burn scar from her last mission lingered—a rough, discolored patch of skin that served as a reminder of the past she couldn't quite leave behind. Her fingers traced its edges, grounding herself in the sensation, as she struggled to find the right words. «Honestly?» She sighed, the sound barely more than a breath. «Some days, I don't know. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other because that's all I can do. And some days…» She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. «Some days I lean on people who care about me, even when I don't feel like I deserve it.»
Her mind drifted, just for a moment, to Satoru—to the way he always seemed to know when her own facade was cracking, the way his presence steadied her even when she felt she didn't deserve it. It wasn't always gentle—he could be stubborn, even maddening—but he was there, with his way of pulling her back, of giving her something solid to cling to when she felt like she was slipping under. And now, looking at Yuji, she realized that she needed to be that same anchor for him, even if she wasn't sure how.
Yuji was quiet for a moment, his expression pensive. He leaned back into the couch, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling, searching for answers in the cracks of plaster that he couldn't find within himself. «I just… I don't know how to make it stop.» he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. «This guilt… it's like it's eating me alive. I keep thinking about this boy, Junpei, about how I promised him I'd help, and… I didn't. I couldn't. And because of that now a lot of people are dead.» he whispered, his voice barely audible. «I'm supposed to be a sorcerer, supposed to protect people, but… people have died because I wasn't strong enough.»
Suzue knew what happened, had heard the story from Nanami. She knew about the twisted events, how that special-grade curse had manipulated those humans, how he had toyed with Yuji's emotions.
The guilt was suffocating, she knew that much. It was that kind of guilt, the way it gnawed at you, the way it whispered in your ear that you weren't good enough, that you could've done more. She was carriyng that same weight, it had become a part of her.
«Yuji…» Suzue began gently, her hand resting on his shoulder. «You're not responsible for what happened to that boy. Or those people. That curse… it's the one who caused all of that. Not you.»
«But I was there!» Yuji snapped, his fists clenching tighter. «I was there, and I couldn't save them. I couldn't save him.» His voice broke, and for the first time since they started talking, Suzue could see the tears welling in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, but it was clear how much he had been holding in.
She shifted closer to him, her fingers gripping his shoulder a little tighter, offering a gentle squeeze. «You did everything you could, Yuji. Sometimes that's all we can do. It doesn't make the pain any less, but it's not your fault.»
Yuji shook his head, tears threatening to spill over. «But it doesn't feel like enough. I still feel like I failed him. Like I'm failing everyone.»
Suzue sighed, leaning in a little more, her fingers brushing through his hair softly before resting again on his shoulder. «I know what it's like to carry that weight, to feel like you've failed someone you cared about. But that weight? It's a lie. You're human, Yuji. And being human means we can't always save everyone. No one can. But that doesn't mean we stop trying.» Her voice was calm, steady, though she felt her own heartache rising to the surface. She wasn't even sure anymore if she was speaking to Yuji or to herself. «You can't carry the weight of every life lost, it will destroy you.»
Her words hung in the air, the silence between them heavy and charged. Yuji looked at her, really looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, held a kind of understanding that hadn't been there before. «You've been through this?»
Suzue nodded, her throat tightening as memories of her own losses, her own failures, flooded her mind. «We all have.» She glanced down at her scarred arm, her fingers tracing the outline of the burn. «It doesn't just go away. But you learn to live with it. You learn to carry it, and maybe... you even learn to forgive yourself.» Suzue said gently, her hand still resting on his shoulder. «It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight. But you don't have to do it alone.»
Yuji's eyes widened slightly, as if the concept of forgiving himself hadn't even occurred to him.
The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't suffocating. Yuji let out a shaky breath, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. Suzue could feel the tension in his body easing slightly, though she knew the weight of his guilt would never fully disappear. He wasn't healed—not by a long shot—but he wasn't alone. And that, for now, was enough.
«I… I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that.» Yuji murmured, his voice raw but sincere.
Suzue's hand found its way to his hair again, ruffling it gently like she might a little brother's. She tried to summon a smile, though it felt fragile. «You're only fifteen, Yuji.» she whispered, her voice full of care. «You're carrying too much. You need to give yourself a break.»
'
It was then that a low, mocking laugh echoed through the room, and Suzue's breath caught as she saw a small, twisted mouth appear on the side of Yuji's neck—Sukuna. The curse's voice slithered out, dripping with disdain. «Fifteen, huh?» Sukuna's voice slithered out, mocking and contemptuous. «Pathetic, both of you,» the voice sneered, dripping with disdain. It was low and taunting, as if it found their conversation amusing in the worst way. «How touching, little brat sorcerer, taking advice from someone barely better than you.»
Suzue's gaze snapped to the mouth, her expression hardening slightly, her head spinning lighly like it always did when she made contact with Sukuna's cursed energy, but she didn't flinch. «Maybe so. But at least I'm trying. That's more than I can say for you.»
«Spare me the pity party, Kaede. Acting like he's some child who can't handle a bit of suffering.» His sharp teeth flashed in the dim light, a sneer curling his lips. «He's weak because he thinks he's weak. And here you are, coddling him like he's worth it.» Sukuna let out a disdainful snort, his voice a sneering drawl. «Humans are all the same. Weak. Foolish. Clinging to their pitiful hope as if it will save them.»
Suzue tilted her head, considering his words with a surprising gentleness. «Yet here you are, still listening, even if you pretend it disgusts you. Maybe you are more human than you like to think.»
He opened his mouth as if to respond with another barb, but then paused, a strange, almost contemplative silence. He seemed to catch himself, his mouth twisting back into disdain. «Hah. How laughable. But if you must insist on spouting such drivel, at least make it convincing.» Before he could stop himself, a bitter, grudging thought slipped through. «You want to survive, brat? Then stop wallowing in your shitty failures. Use them and don't expect anyone to save you.» He sneered, but there was a strange edge to his voice, almost like he was speaking from experience—something bitter and ancient that lay just beneath the surface. «Focus on what you can control, not what you've already lost.»
Yuji shivered as Sukuna's voice faded, the mouth disappearing back into the skin of his neck, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Suzue let out a slow breath, her hand still steady on Yuji's shoulder. He exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his neck as if trying to erase the sensation of Sukuna's presence. He swallowed hard, trying to process the lingering venom in Sukuna's words, but then he turned back to Suzue, his expression a little steadier, a little more grounded. «He's... wrong, isn't he?»
Suzue squeezed his shoulder gently, offering a small, hopeful smile. «Most of the time, but... this time, there's some truth to what he said.» Her voice softened, barely more than a whisper.
They sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation finally lifting, just a little. And in that moment, Suzue realized that by helping Yuji find a small piece of peace, she had found a sliver of it for herself too. Satoru's face flickered in her mind again, that infuriatingly confident smirk of his that always seemed to say, I told you so.
They weren't okay. Not now, not yet. But they would be.
Eventually.
Suzue stepped into the quiet of the faculty room, the soft click of the door closing behind her almost echoing in the stillness. Evening had long since fallen, and the room was bathed in the warm, dim light of a single lamp perched on a nearby desk. The window to her left reflected the empty hallways outside, the dark sky casting a soft blue glow that barely touched the stacks of papers cluttering the room.
She felt the weight of exhaustion pull at her, heavier than before, as if the conversation with Yuji had drained the last of her reserves. It wasn't just physical fatigue. Her mind was heavy too—burdened with thoughts she had pushed aside for days. As she approached the far end of the room, she spotted Ijichi and Hibiki working at a large table, both of them surrounded by towers of documents.
Hibiki, as usual, was buzzing with energy. She was shifting folders from one stack to another, her bright eyes focused on the papers as if moving them around would somehow organize the chaos. Ijichi, on the other hand, looked like he was one misstep away from collapsing under the weight of his stress. His glasses were slipping down his nose, his expression strained as he tried to balance an absurd number of files in his arms.
The moment Hibiki noticed Suzue, her face lit up, and with a cheeky grin, she tossed another thick folder onto Ijichi's already precarious pile. The poor man yelped, nearly losing his balance as he scrambled to catch the cascade of paperwork.
«Kujou-san!» Hibiki called out, abandoning Ijichi's struggle entirely and bouncing over to where Suzue stood. Her enthusiasm was contagious, her smile bright despite the stacks of work looming around her. Suzue managed a small, tired smile in return, though she could feel the exhaustion tugging at her muscles, threatening to drag her down.
«Hibiki.» Suzue greeted softly, her voice calm, though the weariness was evident in the faint shadows beneath her red eyes. Her black hair had started to escape its usual neat form, strands falling around her face. She tugged absently at the hem of her black uniform shirt, tucked into loose-fitting black pants that brushed just above her ankles. Despite her casual appearance, she held herself with a quiet tension, as if the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders and refused to let go. «How's it going?» Suzue asked, her tone steady, even as she tried to hide the emotional toll of the day. She had grown skilled at masking her turmoil beneath a calm exterior—but today had been harder than most. The conversation with Yuji lingered in her mind, leaving a heavy feeling she couldn't quite shake.
Hibiki beamed at her, practically bouncing on her toes. «Thanks to you, I'm settling in great!» she said enthusiastically. «I still can't believe you helped me land this job. And Ijichi-san? He's an absolute saint to work under compared to... well, you know.» Hibiki glanced over her shoulder, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. «Gojo-sensei is insufferable. How do you put up with him?»
Suzue's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, offering Hibiki a tired but amused look. She was too exhausted to put on her usual facade of indifference, and Hibiki, ever perceptive, caught the change. The younger woman's eyes widened in realization, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.
«Oh, no! I'm so sorry, Kujou-san! I didn't mean to—» Hibiki stammered, her face flushed with embarrassment. She gave Suzue a sheepish grin. «I guess I shouldn't complain to you about him, huh? Considering… you know.»
From the other end of the room, Ijichi let out a deep sigh, clearly fed up with the constant rumors and the stress of trying to manage the exchange event preparations. His muttering about filing systems and last-minute changes carried through the room as he tried to keep the papers from spilling onto the floor.
Suzue let out a soft breath, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her uniform pants as she tried to think of how to respond. Ever since Hibiki had caught sight of him leaving Suzue's room that one morning, Satoru—true to his chaotic nature—had done absolutely nothing to clear the air. If anything, he seemed determined to only made things worse.
«You just haven't gotten to know him in the right way,» Suzue finally replied, her tone light despite the heaviness she felt. She tried to inject a bit of humor into her words, though she knew she probably wasn't convincing anyone—least of all herself.
Hibiki's brow furrowed in disbelief, her hands on her hips. «Really, Kujou-san, only you could tolerate him for more than five minutes.» She laughed, then glanced at Ijichi, who had just barely managed to stabilize his teetering pile of documents. «Anyway, I'll stop complaining for now. I'll see you tomorrow at the exchange event, okay?»
Suzue nodded, offering a small wave as Hibiki gathered her things and practically skipped out of the room, with Ijichi trailing behind, still muttering under his breath. The door clicked shut, leaving Suzue alone in the dimly lit space, the quiet settling around her like a heavy blanket.
She stood there for a moment, letting the stillness wash over her. The room was so quiet now, almost oppressively so. With a sigh, she moved over to the small coffee station in the corner and poured herself a cup, cradling the warm mug between her hands as she turned to face the room. Every desk was cluttered with stacks of folders and papers—remnants of the frantic preparations Hibiki and Ijichi had left behind.
The quiet was almost deafening.
Finding no space to settle, Suzue made her way back to her laptop, setting her coffee aside before lowering herself to the floor. She crossed her legs, the laptop balanced on her knees as she took a seat beside a low table already buried beneath paperwork. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than trying to clear a desk at this hour.
She took a long sip of her coffee, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers as she tried to focus on the glow of the screen in front of her. But her mind kept drifting, thoughts spiraling back to Yuji, to the weight of the guilt she'd seen in his eyes, and the lingering ache in her own chest. She scrolled through her emails without really reading them, the words blurring together until one caught her attention.
Naobito Zenin.
Or, at least, one of his assistant; as if that drunk old man knew how to send a proper e-mail.
Her jaw clenched as she opened the message. True to his word, Naobito had the property deeds for the land where her clan's village once stood sent over her—the land she had nearly destroyed during her fight with the special-grade curse. It was ironic, really. He had probably waited until after the destruction just to make a point.
That bastard.
The thought slipped into her mind unbidden, and she quickly closed the email, rubbing her temples as the weight of it all settled deeper into her chest. The land was hers now, but what good was it when all that remained were ruins? Still, the idea of rebuilding offered a distraction—a way to keep her mind from sinking too far into the dark places. It was something to hold onto, even if it felt like grasping at smoke.
But even that wasn't enough. The exhaustion was creeping in, pressing against the edges of her thoughts, and no amount of work could keep it at bay for long.
Suzue let out a long breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled through the last of her emails. She glanced at the clock on her laptop: 11:35 PM. When had it gotten so late? It felt like only minutes ago she had said goodbye to Hibiki and Ijichi, but the hours had slipped away, lost to the blur of work and her own tangled thoughts.
The faculty room was now enveloped in darkness and hushed stillness, save for the gentle tap of Suzue's fingers against the keyboard, the rhythm soft but steady in the dimly lit space. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her shoulders hunched forward, her laptop perched before her, glowing faintly against the darkness. Her mind, however, was far from the text on the screen—thoughts swirled, heavy as lead, about Yuji's struggles, her own tangled emotions, and the inescapable weight of the day that had finally caught up to her.
'
The door creaked open, the sound cutting through the silence like a soft crack, and she didn't need to look up to know who it was. She felt the shift in the air, the familiar ripple of energy that always accompanied Satoru, like had a way of commanding the room just by existing in it. His presence was like a silent storm—unpredictable and wild, but somehow comforting in its constancy.
She tensed instinctively, a reaction she couldn't quite control, but it wasn't discomfort that made her body react this way. It was the awareness that Satoru always brought with him, a kind of energy that seeped into her skin, wrapped around her thoughts, and made her hyper-conscious of every moment he spent near her. Even when he was just being... Satoru—loud, teasing, and never able to resist making his presence known.
«Really? On the floor?» Satoru's voice cut through the quiet, carrying that familiar teasing edge that she had come to expect. «You sit like that any longer, and you'll end up folding yourself into a pretzel.»
She could picture the smirk on his face, the way he'd lean casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as if he had all the time in the world. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never met a situation he couldn't bend to his will. Which was probably true.
Suzue didn't turn around. She sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the hum of the laptop. She didn't bother to respond right away; she knew better than to expect silence from him. But a small part of her had hoped he might pretend not to notice the state she was in—curled down on the floor like a cat hiding from the world. But Satoru, being Satoru, couldn't resist pointing it out.
«It's late, Suzue.» he pressed, drawing out the words like he was giving a lecture. The mock authority in his tone was almost enough to make her smile. Almost. «Tomorrow's the big exchange event, remember? Shouldn't you be, I don't know... sleeping? Worrying about all those kids? Or just missing my company?» He let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly putting on a show, the sound overly dramatic as he finally made his way into the room. His steps were lazy, unhurried, the faint rustle of his uniform breaking the quiet as he moved closer to where she sat.
She stole a glance over her shoulder, just enough to catch sight of him as he strolled closer, the dim light catching in his white hair, making it gleam like moonlight. His blindfold was pushed up onto his forehead, those keen blue eyes exposed and glinting with both mischief and a kind of subtle worry that he'd never put into words. It was moments like these that made her forget just how unapproachable he could seem to others. With her, he never bothered with the distance, at least not anymore.
Suzue rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. «I know.» she murmured, her voice softer than she intended. Her fingers stilled on the keys, the exhaustion evident in every word. She didn't need to tell him how heavy the day had been—he always knew, somehow. He was infuriating that way, knowing when to show up, when to push, when to pull back. It was his way, his roundabout way of caring.
Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, one that was clearly meant to drag her out of her thoughts. Suzue could hear the lazy shuffle of his steps, the faint rustle of his uniform as he finally moved closer, settling himself on the floor behind her. He always moved with a casual confidence, as though the world itself bent to his will—because, for Satoru Gojo, it often did.
«You don't seem excited,» he remarked, his voice lilting with a hint of mockery. He leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder with that insufferable smirk that she knew was plastered across his face. «And here I thought you'd be dying to see some action tomorrow. You know, a chance to see the Kyoto kids get their asses handed to them? I'm prepping them for a massacre, Suzue. You should be thrilled.»
Suzue turned her head just slightly, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment. Her lips twitched into a brief, tired smile. «You're impossible.» she replied flatly, her sarcasm barely masked.
«Yeah, but you wouldn't know what to do without me.» he shot back, chuckling softly, his lips brushing against her ear in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched despite herself. «Somehow, I think I'd survive.» But even as she said it, she leaned back slightly, letting her head rest against his shoulder. It was a small movement, almost tentative, but he responded immediately. He draped himself over her like a blanket, arms hanging loosely over her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest with a comfortable ease. He was always like this, even when she didn't know how to ask for it.
«What's this?» he asked, and she could hear the grin in his voice. He shifted behind her, adjusting his hold so that his arms wrapped more securely around her, his chin resting more comfortably on her shoulder. «You're actually letting me be spoil you? No protests? No remarks? Should I be worried?» he remarked, his voice lilting with a hint of mockery. «I mean, I'm not complaining.»
Suzue's cheeks flushed, and she was grateful for the dim light that hid the worst of her embarrassment. She kept her gaze stubbornly forward, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened at his closeness. «Is that what you're calling this? Spoiling?» she shot back, her voice coming out more breathless than she intended,
His lips brushed against the side of her neck, a fleeting touch but he didn't pull away immediately. «Yup. You've been playing caretaker all day—Yuji, the kids, the upcoming event. Now it's your turn. So stop being so stubborn and let me.»
«What- what are you doing?» she mumbled, her voice flustered, but she didn't try to move away. Instead, she leaned back just a little, letting her head rest against the curve of his shoulder. It was ridiculous, yes, but it was also... nice.
«Spoiling you, duh. I'm just doing my job. Making sure you don't completely fall apart.» he murmured against her skin. «You're not very good at letting people take care of you, you know that? Lucky for you, I'm generous.»
She wanted to argue, to tell him that she didn't need spoiling, that she could handle it on her own. But the words caught in her throat, and before she could find them, his arms tightened more around her shoulders. It wasn't exactly an "embrace"—not the way most people would define it—more like he had collapsed onto her. It was clumsy, overbearing, but it was them. Satoru's way of showing he cared without making it a big deal. She found herself slowly melting into his presence, the weight of his body grounding her in a way she hadn't even realized she needed. He clearly wasn't going to let her stew in her thoughts.
Suzue huffed softly, but the tension in her body was already beginning to melt away. While always over-the-top, he had a way of easing her mind in ways nothing else could. He was chaos personified, She leaned back slightly into him, allowing herself to enjoy the moment, even if just for a little while.
«I think you're just using this as an excuse to spoil yourself.» she let out a soft huff, the sound halfway between frustration and something gentler. She wasn't fooling anyone—least of all him.
«Seems like a win-win to me.» Satoru chuckled softly. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his nose brushing lightly against her skin.
Slowly, she let out a deep breath, her body relaxing further into his embrace. She rested her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment as the weight of the day began to lift, if only slightly. «I don't think I have a choice.» Her fingers found their way to the hem of his sleeve, absently playing with the fabric as her mind began to quiet for the first time all day.
«You don't.» Satoru agreed, his voice light and lazy, as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't care. He shifted slightly, adjusting his arms so they hung more comfortably over her shoulders, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her black shirt as he continued to rest his weight on her like some oversized cat.
«Anyway.» Satoru continued, his tone shifting as he pulled back slightly. «I saw Yuji. He seems... better. Whatever you did, it worked. He's definitely not the same kid who came back here after all that. He's a little brighter now, a bit less like he's carrying the world on his shoulders. He needed you, y'know?»
Suzue's chest tightened at the mention of Yuji, the conversation they'd had earlier still fresh in her mind. She had tried to help him, to be there for him, but in doing so, she had stirred up her own unresolved grief. It had been difficult—more difficult than she'd anticipated—but it had also been necessary. She wasn't sure she'd said the right things, wasn't sure if she'd helped him at all. But here was Satoru, telling her that it somehow mattered.
«I didn't really do much.» she murmured, her fingers still toying with the hem of his sleeve as she tried to push away the lingering weight of the day. «I just... listened.» she said quietly. «He needed someone to hear him.»
Satoru's grip on her shoulders tightened, his arms pulling her just a little closer, his cheek resting against the top of her head. «Exactly.» He paused, as if choosing his next words with care. «I hate that I had to ask you to do it, especially now, but that's what he needed. Mom Suzue strikes again.»
Suzue let out a soft laugh, the sound muffled against his chest, though it was tinged with exhaustion. «I'm too young to be Yuji's mom, you know that.»
Satoru hummed thoughtfully, his hand trailing down her arm again, fingers brushing over the scar on her wrist in a way that felt deliberate, grounding. «Maybe. But you've got the vibes. You're always taking care of these kids. It's kinda cute, honestly. You're like a mom... but without the wrinkles.»
She snorted, rolling her eyes as she nudged him lightly with her elbow. «Then I'm more like a big sister.» she corrected him, trying to keep her tone light, though she couldn't help but feel the warmth spreading in her chest.
Satoru pulled back just enough to look at her from behind her, his mock thoughtful expression tinged with amusement. «Hmm, a big sister?» He mused, tilting his head slightly. «Curious. Actually, no—kinda creepy.» He shifted again, resting his chin more firmly on her shoulder, his cheek now fully brushing against hers in a way that made her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink.
Suzue tilted her head, not enough to fully turn and look at him, but just enough to catch the faintest hint of an odd edge in his words. «Creepy? Really?» She let out a soft laugh, a tired sound that felt lighter than anything she'd felt all day. Leave it to Satoru to say something like that and somehow make it feel comforting.
Satoru, ever the master at dodging anything remotely serious, chuckled under his breath, his tone slipping effortlessly back into playful sarcasm. «Just thinking out loud.» he said, waving her question away with a casual flick of his wrist, though his arms stayed draped around her shoulders, anchoring her in place. «C'mon, Suzue, no more questions. You're supposed to just sit there and look cute while I spoil you a bit geez.» he leaned in closer, his lips barely grazing the curve of her neck.
She found herself instinctively tilting her head, giving him more room to continue his ministrations. For the first time in hours, she let out a deep, steady breath, feeling the weight of the day slowly lift from her chest. «I guess… a little more spoiling wouldn't hurt,» she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Satoru's grin widened, as if to say, "Good. About time you let me." as he pressed another kiss to her neck, this one trailing upward toward her ear, slower, more deliberate. His arms tightened around her, pulling her a little closer, as if he was trying to absorb some of her exhaustion and replace it with his own unyielding energy. «You know,» he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. «If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're starting to enjoy this.»
She opened her eyes, glancing up at him from where she was nestled in his embrace, her cheeks flushed but her expression soft. For a moment, she let herself get lost in the warmth of his gaze, in the way he looked at her like she was something worth holding onto. And for once, she let herself believe it, if only for a moment.
«Maybe I am.»
Suzue woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the thin curtains of her small room in the staff dormitory. For a moment, she stayed still, blinking sleepily as the soft glow painted the room in muted gold. She stretched out an arm instinctively, seeking the warmth she'd come to expect beside her. But instead, her hand met only the cool, empty sheets.
Something was missing.
She was alone.
A faint pout formed on her lips, a small furrow creasing her brow as she slowly came to full awareness. "Wait… alone?" She thought, scanning the dim space with sleepy eyes. The emptiness of the bed beside her felt almost foreign, a stark contrast to the warmth she had grown used to. "Where's Satoru?"
She wasn't sure exactly when she had started expecting Satoru to always be there in the mornings. It had happened gradually, slipping into their routine without any formal discussion, just as natural as breathing. But now that she was awake and aware of his absence, she couldn't deny the small, hollow pang of disappointment that settled in her chest. It felt like she was missing a piece, a presence that had become almost too familiar, too comforting.
He'd been there last night—she was certain of it.
It had become so normal for him to stay that she barely even thought about it anymore. After all, he'd been spending every night in her room ever since that one time—the night when her nightmares had been so bad and overwhelming. Satoru, with his ridiculous but calming presence, had banished them effortlessly, just by being there. His presence, had now become an unspoken rule, wasn't even up for debate—he simply stayed.
Satoru had somehow decided her room was now their room, he'd practically moved in, and she was fairly certain he'd forgotten his own room even existed just one floor below.
And she—albeit shyly—wasn't complaining. Not really. Suzue had grown used to this, whatever this was.
There was no embarrassing grand declaration, just... this. It had just become the way things were between them, and she didn't bother questioning it. Not that he'd let her. He was persistent that way, even if he wasn't the type to wax poetic about feelings. He was more of a show-don't-tell kind of person.
But now that they were, for lack of a better term, together, he had become—how could she even describe it? He could be a bit much sometimes—intense and a little too possessive—but that was Satoru. Sometimes she thought her heart wouldn't survive it, and she'd be left flustered and overwhelmed, while Satoru would just grin that insufferable grin of his, completely unfazed. And Suzue had long since resigned herself to the fact that this was just how things were.
Not that she really wanted it any other way.
So now, waking up to a cold, empty bed felt… wrong.
Suzue sighed softly, glancing around the room, half-expecting to see some trace of him—a discarded blindfold or his obnoxiously immaculate uniform draped over a chair. But there was nothing. Typical. Satoru, always unpredictable, had likely slipped out at some ungodly hour.
She pulled herself into a sitting position, her hands instinctively smoothing over the soft fabric of her sheets, when something felt… off. Glancing down, she realized she was bundled up tightly in the blankets, cocooned like some sort of human burrito.
"Really?" She groaned softly, instantly recognizing his handiwork. Satoru had wrapped her up while she slept, his idea of a joke—a playful sort of revenge for the way she'd drifted off last night when he had clearly intended for... more.
The memory of the night before replayed in her mind, and despite herself, her cheeks flushed. Satoru had been annoyingly persistent in his mission to spoil her. The way he'd curled up beside her in bed, arms wrapping around her like an oversized blanket, murmuring silly things in her ear until she forgot why she'd been so anxious in the first place. His hands had traced light patterns on her skin, and he'd pressed his lips to her neck more than once, making it painfully clear what he wanted. There was no denying it—he had been in one of his moods, determined to push the boundaries they hadn't yet crossed.
"Just so you know, you've officially become my new favorite pastime." he'd stated dramatically, punctuating the statement with a kiss on her temple. Then, as if to seal his point, he'd added with a mischievous grin, "I'm basically your emotional support blanket now. You should thank me properly."
Suzue, embarrassed beyond belief, had squirmed under his attention, but of course, he hadn't stopped there. He'd kept going, kissing her hair, continuing to nuzzle closer, trailing his fingers down her arm. "You're way too comfy. How did I ever get this lucky?" he'd teased, as if he weren't the one relentlessly spoiling her.
Yet, despite his teasing, and despite the overwhelming warmth of his presence, she had fallen asleep. Hard. The last thing she remembered was the sound of his exaggerated sigh, as if he couldn't believe his efforts had been in vain. His exaggerated sigh and muttered "Lucky you, I'm patient" had been the last things she'd heard before slipping into unconsciousness.
She couldn't help but smile at the thought, even now, as she sat tangled in the blanket trap he'd left behind. "He must've been so disappointed." Suzue thought, a small smile tugging at her lips. She wondered just how long his patience would last. Not forever, she was sure. Suzue was acutely aware of Satoru's… frustrations. He wasn't exactly subtle.
And now, this was his little act of payback-wrapping her up like some kind of burrito while she slept, leaving her to wake up alone. He'd probably found it hilarious.
She sighed again, tugging and wiggling herself free from the tightly wrapped cocoon of blankets. It felt like she was trying to escape from a trap, her limbs awkwardly pushing against the tangled fabric. By the time she managed to sit up properly, she caught sight of herself in the mirror—and froze.
Her hair—oh no. Tiny, messy braids were woven haphazardly through her dark hair. Suzue's mouth fell open in disbelief. He had braided her hair while she was sleeping. All of it.
"Satoru..." She groaned, a half-exasperated, half-amused sound escaping her lips. Her fingers fumbled through the mess he'd made, undoing each braid with as much care as she could muster. He must have spent a good amount of time doing this, probably laughing to himself with every twist. The braids were sloppy, uneven, but somehow held together enough to make her look like she'd weathered a particularly strong windstorm.
As she worked her fingers through the tangles, she couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. "If he managed all this while I was asleep, I must've been really out of it."
Finally free from the braids, Suzue realized her hair had taken on an odd, wavy shape thanks to them. She stared at herself in the mirror, sighing in defeat. "Great." The waves were messy and uneven, but there was no time to fix it properly. "It'll have to do."
After taking a deep breath, she stood and moved to her closet. Today was the day of the exchange event with Kyoto's school, but Suzue didn't feel like dressing formally. Comfort was key, especially with the unpredictable nature of the day ahead. She pulled on a loose black overalls and a plain white shirt, the fabric soft and worn, perfect for a day of running around. It wasn't the most professional look, but today wasn't about her—it was about the students.
Besides, she could hardly be bothered to fuss over appearances when there was a good chance Satoru was already stirring up chaos somewhere.
As she finished getting dressed, Suzue's eyes caught sight of a small piece of paper on her desk. She picked it up, recognizing the familiar scrawl instantly.
"See you later ;)"
A small, fond smile tugged at her lips as she stared at the note. He had probably slipped out early to check on Yuji, but still, he could have waited for her. "Typical." She huffed, but the smile stayed on her face. There was something about Satoru's casual way of leaving little notes that made her heart make a strange flip. Even when he wasn't there, he always had a way of making his presence known.
Tucking the note into her pocket, Suzue gathered her things and headed for the door. The morning air was crisp, the chill biting into her skin as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. Her breath formed a misty cloud in the cool air as she glanced up at the pale morning sky.
She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. "Please, let this go smoothly," she prayed silently, though she knew better than to truly expect it. Satoru was probably already stirring up chaos somewhere, rallying the students, getting them riled up for what he called a "massacre."
She let out a soft laugh at the thought. It was impossible to think of him without the corners of her mouth turning up, even when she knew he was likely causing trouble.
But still, a girl could dream. "Please, just one day of peace."
A/N
Hey everyone! First off, a huge thank you for sticking with me through this story—I appreciate every single comment and all the support you've shown!
I know it's a little early for an update, but tomorrow I'll be off all day for some private life things, so I wanted to make sure this chapter got to you on time! So, surprise! Early chapter! I hope you enjoy it!
As promised, I gave Satoru and Suzue a bit of a breather in these last couple of chapters, letting them be the chaotic and adorable idiots of the school. I figured they deserved a little break from all the intensity (and honestly, so did I)! However, the next chapter will pick up the pace again because the show must go on, and we can't keep our favorite sorcerers in fluff-land forever!
Suzue's talk with Yuji struck a deep chord with her. She's carrying so much of her own guilt and grief, and now she's realizing just how much they mirror each other's struggles. Sometimes, when you help someone else, you end up helping yourself too, without even realizing it.
Hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, thank you so much for reading! See you soon, and stay safe! (ᕑᗢूᓫ)