"...timing," sighs Tōkan. "I saw you at school earlier today. What is it? I am kind of busy."

"It can't wait," replies Fushiguro before turning on his heels and starting to walk... somewhere.

Tōkan feels very, very tempted to just ignore the boy, but actually he really could use a distraction right now, so after a couple of seconds deliberation (during which he signs the last few sheets) he follows after Fushiguro.

Fushiguro leads him to another reception area in the hospital, this one deserted, and leans against a wall there. "The cursed object. Hand it over."

He nearly trips on a vase when Fushiguro says that. "The what now?"

"Cursed object," he repeats, unhelpfully, but then he fetches his phone and more helpfully shows a picture of what he means: a small wooden box with a paper charm on top of its lid, open to show something cylindrical wrapped in cloth resting on a small red cushion. "This."

He blinks then frowns. "I don't have it on me," he lies.

Fushiguro's eyes immediately focus on Tōkan's bag, dropped on the floor a few seconds ago, almost like he can see into it. "I can feel it. It's extremely dangerous."

Tōkan, curse his carelessness, does look at his bag and take a defensive step between the other boy and it, which if nothing else is itself enough to reveal it. "Is this the start of the plot, then?" he decides to ask.

And now it's Fushiguro's turn to be taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"I have cool hair and super strength. You have white hair and purple eyes, and now you are coming after a mysterious object I found with my friends at school. My—" And he stops himself as almost all the air leaves his lungs—it's still fresh, he still—he shuts his eyes and fights his tears back, takes a deep breath, and swallows once before continuing. "My grandfather died today. Seems like a good day for the anime plot to start."

"The—that is one of the stupidest things I have ever heard."

"Not great at making friends, are we?"

"—whatever. That object is a special-grade cursed object. They can be used as a source of power, or as a protective talisman against creatures formed out of humanity's negative emotions, called curses." He nods in the direction of Tōkan's bag again. "The wards keeping the power in that one contained have weakened over time, and now it's drawing curses from all over to your school. The longer it stays, the more powerful the curses that will be attracted."

"Is that why those rugby players got hurt? Were they—affected by curses?"

"Most likely", Fushiguro nods. "Now hand it over before more people get hurt, or die."

"...fine." Tōkan kicks his bag over to Fushiguro, who stops its path with his own foot and gets down on one knee to start rumaging into it.

He finds the box easily enough, opens it— "It's empty." He shows it to Tōkan, and the wrapped cylinder is in fact not there. "Why is it empty?"

The powerful feeling he'd been tracking, that he can feel there—is just the taint of the cursed object? How powerful is it?

"How should I—oh."

"What."

"—my senpai were talking about removing the protective talisman from it tonight at school..."

"—idiots," he says, shutting the box and immediately starting to walk away at a brisk pace. "They're going to die."

...what. "Wait, what?" he says, but Fushiguro isn't waiting, and after half a second's indecision he grabs his bag again and follows the other boy, who has started sprinting away the moment he stepped out of the building.

Tōkan is faster—easy, with his absolutely not exaggerated super strength—but he paces himself, both to conserve energy and because he has no idea what he's going to do once he gets there or what he's even going to see. Fushiguro is clearly the expert.

"Shouldn't these seals be hard to remove or something?" he asks on the way there.

"They are, but—I had never felt such a strong presence from a cursed object before, and that was just the box. After however many centuries, with something like that, the seal may well just be paper."

"That is a stupid way for these things to work. Why has nobody ever come to—reinforce the seal or something—you said it had been centuries."

Start of the plot or not, today is shaping out to be a crap day.

"They must have underestimated the power of the object, even with as long as it has been most things would not have managed to so thoroughly corrupt it this quickly."

"Centuries" and "this quickly" should not go together, in Tōkan's opinion, but fine, whatever, he'll buy it.

"Shortcut this way," he says, veering off the street to jump past some fences through a park. He's sure Mr. Plot Device will be able to follow despite not having super strength.

Fushiguro may not have super strength but he keeps up well enough. Maybe he has super agility? Who knows.

The school grounds are visible from a fair distance, but as soon as they get closer Tōkan starts feeling uneasy, and 

no

w r ong

st o p

what time is it

des pair

clock hand at eleven

hu n g er

And he has to stop, or he does stop because his body stops obeying him, or something, but regardless he is not running anymore and is instead just staring at the school—are those smoke clouds or is his vision darkening...?

"Tch," is Fushiguro's immediate reaction. He stops, too, but it seems substantially more volitional in his case. "Idiots. They've released it." He turns around to look at Tōkan. "Stay here."

Yup, sure, he'll just stay right there and not—

—no. No he will not. He takes a step past this invisible barrier of, of wrongness, and then another, and—yeah, he can move. He can ignore his brain telling him to stay away and focus on helping his friends, his stupid friends from the Occult Club who decided to mess with something that shouldn't by rights exist anyway.

"What did I just say."

"They are in danger!"

"And you will be, too, if you try to follow." Fushiguro jumps onto the school fence in a totally anime-like way, and looks at Tōkan again. "They might not die if I save them. If I have to worry about you, too, you will all die. Stay. Here."

And with no further ado he turns around again and jumps down from the fence into the school to run after the two kids who are probably already dead by now.

...fuck.

He might be right. Is he right? Tōkan feels slow again, like moving his muscles through a wall of molasses.

What is he afraid of? Is he afraid? Is this fear, or is it—a curse, magic, whatever? Is he hesitating because he wants to hesitate, or is this messing with his head or—what?

Fushiguro runs up towards the main building Itadori told him their club room would be and up one, two flights of stairs before he sees the first curse, a disgusting misshapen mass almost as tall as he is with numerous eyes all over its body and a single mouth along its left side, tilted clockwise and going from where the middle of its head would have been down to below where its ribs would end. It makes a distorted, warbling noise that is simultaneously incomprehensible and clear in its meaning: "Slurp."

"Slurp on this," he mutters, mostly to himself—a curse of that level is not strong enough to be able to actually understand speech in any meaningful fashion—before clapping his hands together, palms at a 90 degree angle from each other, and squatting down as he presses his arms forward. "Demon Dogs," he growls, and two enormous dogs emerge from his shadows, one black and one white, pouncing in unison at the curse as soon as they form.

The dogs make short work of that curse, but it's only the first of them. Fourth floor, Itadori said, and the closer he gets to his destination the more curses try to bar his way. They're almost all of them too weak to pose a real challenge to his dogs, and the handful that manage to slip past them find that Fushiguro can still pack a mean curse-laden punch, himself. Monster by disgusting monster is disintegrated, and in a few minutes he reaches his goal.

He can tell it's his goal because there are five—maybe more? the mess of limbs, human or otherwise, makes it hard to tell—curses on top of each other, holding onto two teenagers and trying to compete to see who will eat them first. Of course, neither of the kids is their true prize, as Fushiguro quickly spots the strings of cloth that were once encasing the cursed object coming out of the girl's jacket's pocket.

His dogs stop, barking and yapping and growling, awaiting instructions, and he has to make a choice. If he attacks the curses, there is an extremely high chance that he will also hit the teenagers and they will very likely die. If he waits, they will definitely be eaten and die, and whichever curse manages to consume the object will then eat the others and become much too powerful even for him.

The choice—seems obvious, but he hesitates—

—and the window into that hallway shatters from the impact of one Itadori Tōkan's foot from outside—

—(how in hells did he jump all the way to the fourth floor, he has zero cursed energy, Fushiguro checked)—

—before the boy quickly uses his own momentum to pivot, holding onto the top of the window frame to land another kick, this time onto the mass of curses holding his friends hostage.

They are as surprised as Fushiguro, and Itadori manages to release both teenagers from the curses' grasp and pull them away.

Which frees Fushiguro to just straightforwardly kill the curses with his dogs.

Tōkan lands safely and carefully places his friends on the floor. After checking they're okay—bruised and battered, a little bit, but both seem alive and breathing, if unconscious—he turns to look at Fushiguro again, then past him at the dogs killing the disgusting monsters. He wrinkles his nose but doesn't say anything.

"I told you to stay there," snaps Fushiguro, grabbing Tōkan's attention again. "...but good job."

Tōkan is about to snap back when he notices the dogs... eating the curses. "The dogs your friends?" he asks instead.

"My shikigami," says Fushiguro, looking over his shoulder at them and the curses' corpses. "So you can see them. Unexpected."

"—people normally cannot see curses, of course, that explains it."

"Not unless they are on the verge of death or in special places like this," nods Fushiguro, looking at Itadori again. "And even then, you... have no cursed energy in you. At all."

"'Cursed energy'," he quotes, adjusting his friends on the floor so he can stand up again. As he does, something slips out of the girl's pocket—a finger, thick and red, with a fingernail so black and long it may well be called a claw. Tōkan grabs it and inspects it. "Guessing this is the cursed object."

Fushiguro nods. "Ryōmen Sukuna's finger. Be thankful none of the curses swallowed it. You would have had a lot more trouble with them otherwise."

"That sounds entirely disgusting," says Tōkan, who can't help but feel fascinated by it. He extends it towards Fushiguro. "Take it."

Fushiguro nods, takes a step forward—

—his dogs immediately look up at them and start growling—

—his eyes widen and he jumps, pushing Itadori away and crying "Run!" just as some huge thing crashes through the celing on top of him.

Fushiguro's dogs finish the job of pulling Itadori and his friends out of danger, but given the size of the froglike creature now holding Fushiguro in its hand, that is but a temporary state of affairs. "Fushiguro!"

His hands are still free, so he punches his right palm then makes a "bird" shape with both hands while saying "Nue!"

The dogs start melting as soon as he does that, but the curse throws him at a wall and then blasts him with some electricity-themed beam of energy that punches him through said wall and out above a bridge connecting two of the school's buildings.

He falls, two stories rather than four.

He is rather undamaged even so, and the creature jumps through the hole it created with his body and lands on the bridge in front of him. The boy spits blood, trying to get to his feet and glaring at the curse—

—who gets very badly punched by Itadori. He lands on its head then swivels out away from it, kicking it one last time both to hurt it and to gain momentum.

"I said run," cries Fushiguro, trying to get up again and falling to hands and knees.

"I am not leaving you!" replies Itadori as he dodges one of the creature's arms and then grabs onto it to fling himself up into the air.

"You need cursed energy to kill a curse, and you have none!"

"Coulda said this earlier," Tōkan yells as he watches one of the creature's eyes, which he had just burst with a well-placed punch, reforms right then.

"Take those other two and—" Fushiguro collapses onto the floor, coughing blood. "—and run," he finishes, starting to drag himself away from the fight.

Anime plot.

Stupid anime plot.

He doesn't want to eat the finger, despite the obvious foreshadowing going on.

But, you know, he can only dodge the thing's swipes for so long, and then eventually he does fail and it grabs him and tries to eat him—probably it just wants to eat the finger in his pocket, but since his arm is conveniently free between two of the curse's outsized fingers, he can reach into said pocket and grab the finger once again and pop it into his mouth—

—(it tastes like soap)—

—and swallow it—

(Fushiguro has enough energy to facepalm. That idiot is going to diiiiiiiiiie.)

—and right on dramatic cue, Itadori breaks free from the curse's grasp, jumps from its face for some extra momentum, and then lands down onto it, ripping its face to shreds with his nails (?).

It dies. Unlike the times when he punched it and it regenerated, it dies.

One in a million chance. Or more, who knows.

Maybe he was onto something when he said this is the start of the anime plot.

Fushiguro thinks that thinking like that will get him killed and he would much rather not die. On the other hand, Itadori Tōkan has just eaten Ryōmen Sukuna's finger and rather than dying has become a vessel. The actual worst thing that could have happened today... did. If this is the start of an anime, he and Itadori were not the protagonists; Itadori was a short-lived character who gets possessed by a special-grade curse, and Fushiguro was a short-lived source of audience exposition who will soon be killed.

He laughs to himself, a little bit, weakly.

But his laughter is more than matched by the growing cackle coming from the body previously occupied by Itadori Tōkan. Said body seems to have acquired various markings, lines going along his arms and neck and face. Two lines on his face, actually, right under his eyes, are more than lines—they open, and reveal another pair of eyes. Ryōmen Sukuna laughs, to himself, at who knows what, the picture of a villain, examining his three-inch-long claws and his newfound body. "Ah, I had forgotten," he says, laughing so much he's almost doubling over. "The moonlight feels so much better on a body made of flesh."

He places both hands on his own chest, then shuts his fists around his shirt and with a single pull rips it off his body, showing off his (or Itadori's?) toned physique and, more importantly, the various lines, markings, tattoos adorning his torso. He laughs some more, looking to all the world like he is enjoying himself immensely.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck they are so fucked he is so fucked he is absolutely dead—maybe he can pretend to be dead, maybe he can run—he cannot take on a special-grade curse by himself, not as weak as he is, not when he was just thrown through a wall and down two stories, he is a sorcerer but he is not made of steel—

As if on cue, Sukuna swivels around to look at Fushiguro. "Thinking of running? Maybe I'll let you. Tell your sorcerer friends all about this and watch them try to stop me. Ah, it's been centuries, and I feel like a feast is in order—could you run if I pulled one of your legs off?" He starts taking steps towards the boy. "Your pick which. Just don't bleed out on your way back. Or do, I suppose it's up to you. I have children to kill and women to dismember and men to rape, or is it the other way around?" He grins widely, stopping just a few steps in front of the sorcerer. "Maybe both ways! All ways! I can do whatever I want—"

He slaps himself. "What do you think you are doing?" he asks, and this time he... does not sound like Sukuna. At all.

...Itadori? He's... still there?

Sukuna's—Itadori's—that body's face goes through rather a lot of expressions, eventually landing on disbelief. "How... do you have control over this body?"

"Anime protagonist powers," Itadori's voice replies on cue.

Now Fushiguro starts laughing again, and he's not sure if he should be crying instead.

"You... what...?"

Itadori places both hands on his cheeks and then slaps himself a few times. "My body. The eyes and tattoos and claws are cool and all but my body. Not yours."

Itadori... is managing to subdue Sukuna.

Maybe Fushiguro isn't dead after all. He pulls himself to his feet—no, not yet, okay, he pulls himself to his knee, and closes his hands in twin fists, holding the right fist above the left. "Itadori Tōkan," he says, "you are no longer human. And as a cursed spirit... it is my job to kill you."

Tōkan blinks, then looks down at Fushiguro again. "...that is not what happens next. I just managed to subdue the—whoever it was. Ryōmen Sukuna, you said it was called?"

"I don't have—a choice." His shadow gains a fluid character and starts rotating around him menacingly as he says this.

"Yeah you do! And look, fine!" He points at himself where the tattoo-like markings start to fade and the claws shrink back to nails. "Just me! Itadori Tōkan!"

"That's not—the point—"

Anime logic is not real life logic. He is meant to kill Itadori while he is weak and then Sukuna will—not be a problem—

"What's all this, then?" asks a voice that is far too cheerful for these circumstances.

Fushiguro nearly loses balance at that, and he is definitely startled away from making his shadows swirl menacingly. "Gojō-sensei!"

Okay that "anime" theory is getting more and more plausible by the minute what the fuck.

"Hey!" says the blindfolded man with white hair and an incessant smile. "I wasn't planning on coming, but..." he trails off, and looks at Fushiguro. Well, turns his head towards him, it's not clear if he's looking at him or not. "Who'd want to miss you getting your ass kicked? I have to show the second years!"

Out comes his phone, followed by the obnoxious sound of a picture being taken.

Ugh.

"Are you the mentor figure?" asks Itadori. "I dig the aesthetic."

"Right in one, thanks!" He leans over to get the angle right, takes another picture of his apparent student, then gives a pleased hum. "Much better. So, where's the cursed object?"

Fushiguro falls onto the floor once more, sitting down this time, and points at Itadori.

Who opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and points in.

There is a long silence, as the mysterious mentor figure takes in this information.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously,"

they say in unison.

"In my defence we almost died!"

The blindfolded man lets out a soft bark that sounds almost like a laugh, then steps closer to Itadori to inspect him, leaning inches away and giving a thoughtful hum. He lifts the blindfold covering an eye, revealing one that is bright and blue and most of all piercing.

"You almost worse than died, kid. Damn, it really did combine with you."

And then he straightens back up, dropping the blindfold back to its proper location, the air of seriousness evaporating. "That's hilarious! Anything off with your body?"

"Got claws for a bit there, and tattoos, and..." He pokes the wrinkles that are now on the upper edges of his cheekbones. They had not been there before. "Used to have eyes here. Fine now, though."

"Uh huh. Can you swap out with Sukuna?"

He pauses for a second, then nods. "Yeah, reckon so."

"In that case," says the mysterious mentor figure, casually tossing the shopping bag on his arm to Fushiguro, "give us ten seconds with him. Then come back."

Fushiguro grabs the bag unthinkingly then blinks down at it. He opens his mouth, but then shakes his head and decides against asking.

"You're sure? He was going off about massacres and torture and stuff just before I shushed him."

"Of course he was. Don't worry." The man gives a smile. "I'm the strongest."

Fushiguro's eyes roll so hard it's a wonder they don't screw right off.

"Right-o, then."

He shuts his eyes and...

...Sukuna opens them, markings and claws and four eyes and all. "Cocky sorcerers," he says, and in the blink of an eye he's leapt right at Gojō—

Inches away from the sorcerer, he is stopped by - or to be more accurate, in - something.

And then the cocky sorcerer is behind him, cheerfully ruffling his hair. "It's part of our charm!" he agrees, brightly.

...the fuck?

He whirls around at a speed no one should by rights match and goes for the sorcerer's—eyes, probably, he keeps them covered for a reason.

Nope! The sorcerer is gone, and now behind him again. He cheerfully kicks Sukuna in the butt, smiling irreverently.

"But a cocky sorcerer that can't back it up never lasts long, do they?"

Clearly, someone is having fun.

Okay no this is getting ridiculous. He launches a flurry of attacks—one twentieth of his full power, speed, strength, true, but none but the most exceptional sorcerers should be able to dodge so many in such quick succession so unpredictably—

Apparently this guy is one of the most exceptional sorcerers, because he dodges every single one, and doesn't even make it look hard. Sukuna doesn't so much as graze the man's hair.

There is a pattern to where he's dodging, though. Away from the student, leading his opponent away from the comparatively weaker potential prey.

Yeah so obviously the boy is his next target—he doesn't telegraph it, he's a centuries-old curse, it's easy to not telegraph it and then just swipe that bloody kid's head off—

Nope!

The mentor figure is between Sukuna and the boy in question, and that same moving-in-molasses-but-not feeling stops him again. The boy's head stays where it is.

"That wasn't very sporting, now was it?"

AoE it is. He turns around and then, faster than sound, turns back to them with a punch that should obliterate both where they're standing just with the aftershocks.

It certainly causes some major property damage in front of, around, and behind the sorcerers, but they (and the major structural support holding them both up) are completely unharmed.

"And now you're just throwing a tantrum!"

...he's kind of running out of patience. Fine. Complete structural destruction of the surroundings and—

—and he stumbles in place and puts a hand to his forehead and his markings slowly fade away from his skin and the claws shrink and then Itadori looks up, blinking. "Anime protagonist powers work alright?"

The mysterious mentor figure lets out another laugh. Bits of rubble suspended in air in front of him drop harmlessly to the ground.

"Apparently so! I'm impressed. You really can control it."

Itadori beams. "Now he's trying to convince me to let him out," he says, tapping his temple. "All sorts of threats. Whatever you did really annoyed him."

"That was the point of it. Yet all he can do is rant impotently. And you kept time accurately, too! Very interesting." He walks casually towards Itadori, smiling faintly.

"Yeah I was kind of there but not there? It was weird. I do not really remember what was happening, but I remember remembering, if that makes sense?"

"Some! You," he reaches out to boop Itadori on the nose, "are one special kiddo."

And said special kiddo immediately passes out.

"...what did you do."

And the mysterious mentor figure is there to gently catch him before he hits the ground.

"Is that concern I almost hear? Never fear, my precious student. I just knocked him out. We'll see who's in charge when he wakes up. He could make an excellent vessel."

"...tch. Whatever."

"Heh." Itadori is carefully picked up and slung casually over the sorcerer's shoulder. He retrieves his shopping back from Fushiguro. "Yeah? What do you think we should do with him?"

"...it is jujutsu regulations that dangerous vessels should be executed."

"So it is! But that wasn't what I asked."

He frowns even more deeply. "What I think doesn't matter, does it? We have to follow the rules."

"Rules are made by people, kid. As an honorary person, what you think always matters."

Fushiguro folds his arms and looks away. "He saved my life. Multiple times. He... didn't know what he was going to find here and he came anyway."

"Mm. It'd sure be one hell of a twisted reward, to get execution for all that effort. You want to be that kind of a cold bastard?"

"..........no."

"I thought not!" says his mentor brightly. "And it is my sworn duty as your wise and knowledgeable mentor to nurture you into growing into a sorcerer you can be proud of!" He gives his shopping bag a cheery twirl on one of his fingers. "Now, let's be off, precious student."

Itadori Tōkan wakes up.

"Good morning!" says the mysterious mentor figure, from a chair in front of him, leaning his head on a palm. He gives a cheery wave. "And who is it that I'm greeting today?"

Itadori might notice that his hands are bound behind his back. And that they're in a small, enclosed space, covered in hundreds of little slips of paper on the walls.

Itadori looks around and blinks blearily a bit, then looks at the mysterious mentor figure again. "Itadori," he replies. "Not Sukuna."

"Neat!" He leans forward. "Hate to say it, but I could not talk the higher-ups out of execution. Sorry, kid."

There's a smirk to his lips that hints that there's a catch, though.

"Execution. What. Wait, Fushiguro-san's thing was serious?"

"Oh, deadly serious. Everyone's agreed, you really do need to die, for the curse that you've taken into yourself."

"And the reason I am not, currently, dead...?"

"Well, the big debate is when." He sits up, pulls something out of his pocket, and twirls it around his fingers.

Itadori might recognize it. It looks just like the finger he ate.

"See this? There are eighteen more like it, out in the world, making it worse." He tosses the finger into the air and hits it, with a speed and a power that does not seem possible. It impacts into a wall, leaving a crater.

And then the blindfolded man stands, retrieves it, and shows it to Itadori again. It looks absolutely no worse for wear.

"But we can't destroy it. All we can do is wrap it in protections and tuck it away, and you saw how well that goes, sometimes."

"You want me to eat the other nineteen. And then kill me."

"Absolutely right! You've got a real feel for how this works. When you die, the curse, or curses, you've eaten die with you. And then they are really, actually gone."

"And the last piece of the plot falls in place," he says, nodding. "I'm in."

"Ha! And I didn't even get to the part where you're special, and probably no one else will be able to hold Sukuna after eating even just one of his fingers." He tosses the finger in his hands in the air once, amused, then takes a step forward. "Well, first, proof of concept, open up. Gotta verify that you can house more than just one before we can move forward."

He holds out the shriveled and mummified finger to Itadori, just within reach of his mouth.

"You didn't say it now but you said it before," he says, shrugging. "And that is clearly the plot." With that, he stretches his neck forward, grabs the finger between his teeth, then throws his head back and swallows it whole, making a face. "Tastes like soap."

He jerks in his restraints, then, sudden and forceful. The markings return to his skin, appearing more quickly than the first time, and his muscles bulge under his skin. His four eyes open—

The mysterious mentor figure raises a single eyebrow.

"Hey there, your majesty. Just so you know, even with all twenty fingers in that kid, I could and would kick your ass from here to Mars and back, if you ever come out to play. Anything to say about that?"

He looks up at Gojō, glaring daggers, opens his mouth—

—then coughs and sticks his tongue out in disgust, the markings and eyes disappearing even more quickly than they showed up. "Bleaghh."

This earns an amused chuckle.

"Well! And even if I say that Sukuna is an overrated old hack that couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, much less those restraints?"

That makes Tōkan start laughing. "He really hates you, you know. I am sure some of the words he is using are older than the Edo Period."

"Aw! How quaint. Well I'd hate him back if he were worth my time!" says the cocky sorcerer, brightly. He gets up and releases Itadori from his restraints, watching with clear amusement.

Itadori stands up and rubs his wrists, stretching his legs at the same time. "—how are my friends doing?" he asks, suddenly.

"Alive, all of them. One's in the hospital, though. Hear it might be chancy. Shall we go check?"

"...yes, please."

Off they go! The mysterious mentor waves off any security that tries to stop them, saying he's running some tests with 'The vessel.' None of the security seems particularly happy, but they grudgingly accept it and do not follow.

Itadori is allowed into the hospital by himself; the blindfolded man opts instead to wait outside on a bench. "Someone will be by tomorrow to remove any latent cursed energy on him. If he makes it that long, that should tip him over the edge to surviving," he says, from where he lounges.

Inside, his classmate is wrapped in bandages. The nurse says something about the school being old and crumbling with him in it; he fell a couple stories. Unlucky, but lucky this happened after hours, and more people weren't hurt. Absolutely no mention of curses or horrible monsters is made.

Sasaki—one of his friends from the Occult Club, less beat up but still with one arm in a cast—is there when Itadori arrives, sitting by Iguchi's bed, staring listlessly at nothing. She looks up when he walks in, but it's almost like she's looking past him, or through him. Her eyes are empty, and it's clear she's cried herself dry and then cried some more.

    "Itadori," she says in a matching tone of voice. She does not mention the new additions to his face.

"Sasaki-senpai," he replies, eyes drawn immediately to Iguchi's prone figure on the bed. "How is...?" He knows the answer already but he feels like—like he needs to hear it from her.

    "The doctors say he's fine," she replies, "but he still won't wake up." Her eyes fill to the brim with tears, again. "It's all my fault," she blurts. "If—if I hadn't asked him to come with me that night—" And it's like she has been waiting for someone, anyone to be able to listen, someone she could confide in, because the words come in a rush, one after the other without pause for breath, tears flowing freely down her face. "I know you won't believe this, but it wasn't—the official story—the school didn't crumble. There was a monster—there were monsters, so many of them—and they attacked us, I was captured too—I don't know how I survived, don't know what happened to either of us, I just woke up and there were doctors and he wouldn't wake up, and it was all my fault, and—"

"Senpai," Itadori repeats, and she stops talking. "I believe you. I—I was there. I came, too." Her eyes widen. "Those monsters—curses, they're called—it was the finger. The finger was a powerful object that drew them to the school. It wasn't your fault, it was the fault of, of whoever left that there, in a school, with kids who could become victims of it." He looks down at his feet, then at Iguchi again. "Someone who can fix Iguchi-senpai will come over tomorrow, and he'll—he'll be fine. You'll be fine."

    "I-Itadori..." she says, looking somewhere between confused and relieved and shocked and—

"Don't—don't look for explanations. It's dangerous and, and that wasn't the worst it could be." She gasps lifts a hand to cover her mouth at that, as if the idea that something could be worse than that night was beyond imagination. "You'll be fine. I—I have to go, though. I can help." He looks at her again and smiles. "I can help with curses, things like that. So I will. But not here. I need to become stronger." He bows, then, deeply. "It has been a great pleasure and honour to know the two of you, senpai. Please take care of yourself."

And before she can come up with something to say to that, he's out.

His mysterious mentor figure is lounging on the bench outside, enjoying the nice weather.

"Hey." He tilts his head. "Well, I hereby pronounce you safeish. You sure about doing this, kid? A quick execution would in many ways be kinder. You didn't know how right you were, with how that wasn't the worst it could be. If you go down this path, you'll see things, probably do things, that will make this whole broken world seem like it's not worth any of it. This opening might have been straight out of an anime, but I promise you, it will not stay that way."

"Depends on the anime," he says under his breath, but then shakes his head. "I know. It's..." Hard to explain. "I have actual super strength. You know? It makes absolutely no sense. The kind of thing that does not happen in real life. And I wanted to—do something, be something. Not, not a superhero or anything like that, but it has always felt a bit like I was holding my breath, or waiting for the other shoe to drop. Here's the other shoe and I think I am ready for it. And if I'm not... I will be. I'll be what I gotta be."

“All right. As long as you walk forward with your eyes open and your head high. … Now, fortunately for you, I know the perfect student to round out your trio! And with you I have reason to talk the higher ups into giving her a scholarship so she comes to our school.”

He sounds very pleased with himself.

"Oh, good, this won't be one of those boys' club types, I was getting kind of worried for a bit there."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, it won't! And I do. But don't relax yet, you still need to pass the interview. Pack your things! You're heading to Tokyo."

"I am sure my endless charm and wit will win over whoever interviews me."

"We'll see!"

Accommodations at his new (potential) school will be provided for him, approximately emulating a dorm room, with a bed, a bathroom, and a communal kitchen. He's even set up with a large storage container for anything that he might like to keep but not directly take with him. It's up to him what he does with his recently deceased grandfather's house and everything inside, but the academy he's working with is incentivized to make it as straightforward for him as possible. And for no reason in particular, he should absolutely set up a will. Just, you know, in case that execution gets moved up. It's just being thorough.

It's a little over a week later, after a whirlwind of logistical necessities, that Itadori finally gets to see the academy that would like to take him. Nestled in the mountains outside of Tokyo, in the most out of the way patch of wilderness that they could find, is a school that looks like it came straight out of the Edo period. An exceedingly well maintained one, too. It's peaceful and picturesque, and his (potential) Sensei is waiting for his arrival, smiling faintly.

Tōkan doesn't really have... anyone... anymore. To write into a will.

He wants to get rid of his grandfather's house with as little hassle as he can, please, Tōkan knows his grandfather'd get really annoyed if he knew the boy was still grieving and not moving on and having the house just makes it harder. He won't need it anyway.

If he dies, he decides, he'll leave his stuff to Iguchi and Sasaki and Fushiguro. That seems right.

So now he can meet up with his probable new sensei.

“Hey!” he says, looking just like he did when Itadori last saw him. “Good news! Your third member was stolen right out from under the other school’s nose! If you want a boy’s love anime out of your life you’ll have to work for it.”

"I thought we were in a monster fighting genre. But speaking of boy's love, where's Fushiguro?"

“Napping, probably! He got fixed up by the same person that got your friend, but he’s still got to sleep off some of the injuries. C’mon, we’ll go meet the principal, see if all of this lead up was for nothing or not. Be good, this guy gets final say if you get in or not, and the other school is run by people that wanted you dead a week ago, so don’t hope to get in there instead.”

"And this guy didn't want me dead?"

“He’s open to many possibilities!” Which doesn’t quite answer the question, does it.

It does not.

"Well, any tips?"

“Be honest. Not fake job-interview honest, actually honest. He will see through pretty lies, and you will get punched for them.”

He sounds kind of fond, actually.

"And if I say I like getting punched?"

“Well, then your choices are your own!”

He’s led past some picturesque gardens into a large hall, the end of which has a large, muscular, intimidating looking man.

Surrounded by adorable plushies. He’s patiently sewing a new one. It is small, bright blue, and looks like it’ll be some sort of sheep.

“Your other student, Satoru? And this one isn’t going to demand a phone interview?” he asks, not looking up from his sewing. He sounds disgusted with the idea of phone interviews, like the very idea is insulting.

"Well I was not exactly aware it was an option but I think I would not have taken it anyway."

“Good. I’d rather look you in the eyes and see your answers in them. Phone interviews. If the answer had been any less sure I’d have dismissed her on principle.” He finishes off his set of stitches, and ties it off, carefully knotting the thread so it’ll hold firm. This done, he stands and looks at his prospective student.

“So. Why are you here.”

"To do an interview!" he replies brightly.

His prospective Sensei lets out a little snort.

“Obviously. I meant in broader terms. Why are you here, at this school. Why do you want to learn to become a jujutsu sorcerer?”

...well, serious anime time, then. He shuts his eyes, and... thinks.

The principal waits, arms crossed.

After a couple of minutes Itadori opens his eyes again and raises three fingers in the air. He pinches the ring finger with the other hand: "I want... to do something that matters. I am not... the smartest, brightest, most talented. I am not going to be a doctor and save people's lives. I am not going to be a lawyer that brings justice to the masses, or a brilliant inventor, or anything like that. This matters."

He moves to the middle finger: "I am the strongest." He looks over at Gojō and amends, "Physically. I don't know why. I break strength records without trying. It feels... right... that the thing I do, the way I matter, has to do with that. Maybe there's a god, and that is why god gave me this strength. Maybe my mysterious backstory and unknown parents have to do with it, maybe they were sorcerers and did something..."

Index finger now. "I was extremely bored. All the time. School is boring, being a regular teenager is boring, sex is fun and doing it with new people in new ways is fun but it's not really... important. It passes the time, I like it, it still does not make my life not boring. This does."

He lowers the three fingers and shrugs. "I don't think any of these is more important than the others. They're all true."

"There are other professions that fulfill all of those requirements, other ways to use physical strength to do something that matters without getting bored. Firefighting comes to mind, I'm sure others would too with a bit of thought. Exorcising curses is messy, horrible, and often thankless. Most people who hear you name your profession will think you're insane, and definitely not think that it matters at all. You will never get rid of all of the curses in the world, and you will almost certainly die to one. If you get good enough, you can be like Satoru here, constantly bored despite being surrounded by curses that would make other men flee in terror. They are not all so interesting to exorcise."

He had an answer to all of that but actually, "Are you constantly bored, Gojō-sensei?" is what he asks of the white-haired mentor figure.

"Oh, terribly!"

Itadori tilts his head for a moment, then turns back to the principal. "I think I don't mean the same thing." He shakes his head. "It doesn't have to be this thing. I did think of firefighting, actually, yeah. But the plot is just starting." He smiles and hikes a thumb in Gojō's direction. "He has a plan. Maybe the villain is literally inside me. And... right now, firefighting is actually out of the question, isn't it? Either I do this or I..." He shakes his head once more then looks straight at the principal again.

"You don't have anyone else to kill Ryōmen Sukuna. Only me." It's a hunch, but obviously they would not have been holding onto the finger (fingers? actually why are there twenty—wait, focus) for so long, so he thinks it's right. "I don't want to say that everything happens for a reason. I do not... think it does. But I think this did. What are the odds that I would personally find Sukuna's finger and, being part of the Occult Club at school, which had exactly two other members, would help unseal it, and then after a fight that nearly kills me I would eat the finger and turn out to be the one person in, in hundreds of years?" He glances at Gojō when he says that, for a moment, but then focuses on the principal again. "Hundreds of years, maybe ever, who can actually keep him subdued—

"Every piece of me is saying that this is right, that this is what happens next, that I gotta do this. Never mind that it is either this or dying, never mind that you guys keep saying I am going to face things so terrible the choice is not actually obvious, never mind the super strength or the boredom or wanting to do the right thing—I feel it in my gut." He's kneeling on the floor, he doesn't know when he did but it feels thematically appropriate so he leans forward for the effect. "I am joking about this being the start of the anime plot but it's only half a joke, there is something big that is just happening, I know there is, and I am already here, this is where I am meant to be, and, and maybe I'm wrong, maybe I am just a kid who got struck by lightning three times, someone has to on a planet with seven billion people, maybe I will be skewered alive on my first mission, but it will not be because of overconfidence, it will be because I am doing what I think is right, I am doing what I think I am meant to do, and if I die I will not die regretting it."

"Hm. We'll see about that. A sorcerer never dies without regrets." He gives a little nod, all the same. "But welcome to Jujutsu High, Itadori Tokan."

He grins widely, stands up, then bows deeply. "Thank you, Gakuchō-sensei."

The principal gives another nod, then returns to his sewing of adorable, bright plushies.

"Satoru, show him to the dorm. Explain the security and everything else to him, too. And see about getting him a uniform."

"Sure, sure," says Gojo casually, giving a little wave and turning to leave.

Security measures are straightforward enough, and Gojo does some sort of super speed sorcery nonsense to get Itadori's measurements in under ten seconds, so then all that's left is the housing.

Notably, it's spacious, nice, and comfortable, with a lovely view of the mountains. He has his own en suite bathroom, and right next door is a familiar face.

"...you're here," says said familiar face before glacially turning to glare at their sensei.

"Fushiguro-senpai! You're not dead!"

Their Sensei smiles innocently.

"He's not! It takes more than a fall from two stories and a couple of stubborn walls to kill a jujutsu sorcerer." He walks over and ruffles Fushiguro's hair. "I thought you might like the company, my precious student."

"As long as said company isn't very loud," he says, batting Gojō's hand away and rubbing at the edge of the bandage still attached to his temple. "Hard enough dealing with one of you."

"And the day after tomorrow, we'll go pick up our third student! Try to get settled in and reacquainted by then."

"Reacquainted," Fushiguro repeats in a slow drawl.

"Oh! Wait, I forgot to ask earlier! How come Sukuna's got twenty fingers? Or are you counting toes, too?"

And now it is Itadori's turn to get glared at. "You... didn't even ask that? Do you even know what you signed up for?"

"Oh, Sukuna had four arms, four eyes, and however many mouths he felt like at the time! So, twenty fingers. And! Never fear, my intrepid anime protagonist, you won't get sidelined for any of them. If they were easy to find, we'd have found them all already. But you are likely to draw the sneaky ones out of hiding."

"And here I was, hoping I could stay in all day reading manga," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm, "waiting for Fushiguro to arrive with a new finger for me to eat."

"I will drag you with me if I must."

"I have to admit, you do look pretty when you are all beaten up and bloody."

Fushiguro splutters and blushes deeply, and decides that actually the appropriate response to this is punching Itadori into a wall.

"No damaging the dorm room!" singsongs Gojo brightly, turning to leave. He says absolutely nothing about punching each other.

There will be no more punching as Fushiguro himself walks back into his room and slams the door behind him.

Itadori's uniform is ready in time for him to be properly dressed to meet his latest peer. It is noticeably different than Fushiguro's; instead of merely a simple dark blue uniform, his comes complete with a bright red accented hood. And matching shoes. Where or when Gojo got his shoe size is a mystery for the ages, but everything fits quite well, shoes included.

And then, stepping off the train in perfectly ordinary civilian clothes, no uniform in sight, is the female student to round out their anime trio. This is obvious by how she spots them immediately, perks up a little, and walks right over.

"Oh, hello," she says, setting her luggage down to bow politely to them once she's out of the way of traffic. "I didn't know everyone would be coming to greet me. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Hayashi Akiho."

"Fushiguro Inori," says the white-haired boy, in a tone that dares anyone to comment on the gender of his personal name.

"—hey, I don't think I had ever caught your personal name, Fushiguro-san!" To Hayashi: "Itadori Tōkan, at your service! And now our anime trio is complete!"

"And I am your wise and mysterious sensei, Gojo Satoru!"

"Our what now."

"Broody loner," says Itadori pointing at Fushiguro. "Overly cheerful dude with an evil being trapped inside," he continues, pointing at himself. "Wise and mysterious mentor figure," Gojō-sensei. "And finally, the plucky heroine who kicks ass. Our anime can properly start."

"Ignore him," sighs Fushiguro. "Or punch him, that works, too."

She looks at their Sensei, who is looking very pleased with himself.

"Are you telling me," she says, a little shrilly, "That I was just on a train for four hours after pissing off the Jujutsu school that I'd already been accepted into, instead coming all the way to Tokyo, to round out your anime trio as the designated chick. That is what you're telling me. And I can't even get back on the train and leave because the only other school in Japan is very mad at me for being open to bribery."

"I also take great joy and pleasure in upsetting them, and poaching their new blood was just my latest way to do it!"

"I wonder if I could talk my parents into sending me abroad..."

"He does this kind of stuff all the time," says Fushiguro. He then hikes a thumb in Itadori's direction. "See how he has a different uniform? I bet Sensei thinks he's the protagonist."

"Yes, I'd caught that, one of my fellow students having delusions of anime is one thing and I doubt I'd care, but Sensei's smile and explanation just confirms it. This is, for the record, ridiculous, and I resent it. I would be be turning around and leaving, right now, if I hadn't been so clearly set up. Ugh. Fine. Let's go to the school that gave me a scholarship to round out the roster for our teenage demographics!"

"I actually thought you might want to see Tokyo first—"

"No. Dorm room, internet access. If you must, maybe take me on a tour to a couple sites with major curses for me to exorcise to round out my resume for the next damn school I am applying for."

Their Sensei seems to find this very funny, and giggles accordingly.

...she's kinda hot.

"Are there many Jujutsu schools, then?" he asks Gojō.

"There really, really aren't! And they're very insular and based around who you know instead of anything so modern as a resume."

"If my uniform includes a miniskirt I am leaving even if I have to rederive curse exorcism by first principles in the woods," grumbles Hayashi.

"No misogyny here, I would hope, right, Sensei? A fully hetero cast is definitely out the window already," he says, raising a hand.

Fushiguro looks away and blushes a little bit.

"I would never dream of putting one of my precious students in something she would be uncomfortable in. And miniskirts are far too impractical to be uniform standard. And really, you're much better off with us than that other school. They're all rules and tradition and obedience and whatnot. Here we have a sense of humor!"

Hayashi rubs the bridge of her nose.

"And an obsession with anime, apparently."

"It is not obsession to notice patterns. Although I guess in this case the pattern was kind of on purpose," he says, tilting his head in Gojō's direction.

"It was too tempting to resist! How many chances would I have to have such adorable precious anime students!"

Hayashi lets out a sigh.

"Fushiguro-san," she says, apparently making some sort of decision, "are they at least competent, even with their. Eccentricities?

Fushiguro furrows his brow. "Gojō-sensei is... probably the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history. This clown, though," he adds, not even deigning to point, "hasn't ever used jujutsu in his life." But he smiles, only a little bit. "He can take a punch, though."

"I can do so much more than take a punch."

"All right. I suppose that'll have to be good enough."

"Excellent! Welcome to the team, Akiho-chan! Rest assured I will be taking good care of you, along with Tokan-kun and Inori-kun!"

'Akiho-chan' closes her eyes and clearly counts to ten.

"How do you even get into a jujutsu school if you haven't ever used jujutsu in your life?" she asks, choosing to ignore the overfamiliarity.

"I ate a cursed object hosting the king of curses and didn't die, and then I turned out to be the one vessel in history to be able to do so and not also be fully consumed by Sukuna's consciousness. How's that for real life?"

"A finger," Fushiguro clarifies. "It was a finger, long and red and rotted with a pointy black claw."

Hayashi makes a face of utter revulsion and takes one measured step away from her finger-eating classmate.

"Why would you eat something so disgusting and self destructive and stupid. How are you alive. Shouldn't you have been executed? What is wrong with you. Eugh, you know what, nevermind, your explanations have sucked so far anyway. New topic or I'm going to actually be sick thinking about eating a rotted mummified finger." She gives a shudder. "I'll take that Tokyo tour now."

"It doesn't actually taste that bad!"

"Itadori. Shut up."

"Tour of Tokyo," insists Hayashi, firmly.

"I know just where to start!"

'Just where to start' turns out to be... an abandoned building. Next to a cemetery.

"This is because of the phone interview, isn't it."

"Oh, so that was you!"

Fushiguro folds his arms and looks up at the abandoned building. It has a similar aura of

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to the school's from before, but substantially weaker and, in a sense, "thinner". It barely affects them, outside, and could well be mistaken for a chill wind or the like.

"Of course it was me, there are three students in your year, including you, and Fushiguro-san has been hanging around Jujutsu High for literal years. I wasn't going to get on a train for four hours just to maybe get accepted."

She retrieves a fan and a little pouch attached to a belt from one of her bags, the latter of which gets clipped around her waist. This done, she retrieves a hair tie and starts tying up her hair.

"Fine, whatever. Curse killing tour of Tokyo it is, then. Is this a 'send the new girl in alone' situation or is this a team bonding exercise?"

"Inori-kun is still recovering from some injuries, so he will be sitting this out today. And I will be available to come and save my precious students if you need it, but! Yes, team bonding exercise."

"Team bonding exercises, my favourite!" says an extra mouth showing up on Itadori's left cheek.

Itadori slaps his own face. "Sorry about him, he does that sometimes."

"Maybe we could tag team the new girl and have some fun, if your dick isn't too limp for that."

He slaps the back of his hand, now, where the new mouth appeared. "Just shut up and stay in, okay?"

No new mouths appear.

“Charming.“ She finishes tying her hair up. “Are you sure you’re in control, there, or that he’s not just biding his time or something?”

“Tokan-kun has been pronounced safe-ish by the strongest sorcerer in the world! Speaking of, you’ll need this, my precious student. Just until you actually learn how to use that cursed energy of yours.”

He offers Itadori some kind of dagger.

More like a meat cleaver. Itadori's sure daggers aren't meant to grow this big. Not that he's complaining.

"Cool," he exclaims when he unholsters it. "Magic, somehow, then?"

“Sort of! It’s a cursed object. Any injuries it inflicts on curses can’t be quickly healed, and it’ll permanently kill them if you land a mortal blow.”

“What, he gets a present and I’m left to fend for myself?” sniffs Hayashi. “Thanks, Sensei.”

“You’re here on a scholarship. If you want your own cursed object to kill things with, use that stipend we give you for it!” he replies, cheerfully. “Besides, he doesn’t get to keep it, it’s on loan.”

"Bet I'll learn how to do a magic punch of some kind. Punching is kind of my thing."

"If you want to run up and personally punch each and every curse you fight to death, you go right ahead." She tilts her head towards the abandoned building, spinning her fan through her fingers. It looks more sharp, sturdy, and metallic than fans usually come. "Ready to go?"

"I shall defer to your expertise." He sheathes the enormous dagger and bows to Gojō and Fushiguro.

"Don't die," Fushiguro drawls.

She gives a polite bow to her peer and Sensei, then turns to lead Itadori off to the abandoned building.

"So, we'll start from the bottom and go up, and fan out a bit to prevent any from slipping past us. Some of them go through walls, and a few might be smart enough to try to run. We should stay in each other's sight, though, preferably in easy running distance if one of us gets ambushed by a clever one."

Hayashi seems to be more than a little in her element, and has an air of self-assured efficiency to her.

Oh. Okay.

Kinda hot, too.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, in English, saluting. He throws his sheathed cutlass up and grabs it by the handle easily. Is he trying to show his manual dexterity off? Maybe. Not like he has a lot of other things to show off.

She seems far too mission-oriented to notice, or be impressed, unfortunately.

Outside, their Sensei finds a comfortable place to lounge.

"I was half expecting you to demand to join them," he observes, to Fushiguro.

"And then you would say I am still recovering and also that you want to field test the two of them."

"I already said you were still recovering, actually, I just would have repeated myself more strongly. Otherwise, yes, exactly right! You're too adaptable for a proper field test of either of them. And she's the one I'm curious about."

"Not Itadori?"

"Nah. Kid would happily throw himself into a nest of special-level curses if it looked like it'd be fun. It's not like he hesitated when he didn't know what they were or what was going on. He needs someone to hold his collar and tell him it's aesthetically appropriate to think. Akiho-chan, on the other hand, only has experience with country curses up until now."

"They're different?"

"I need to take you on field trips more often! Of course they are, the people that make them are different. Even if they're not more powerful, which they often are, city curses have much more breadth of consciousness creating them. Which is to say, even at the same level of power, they are more creative. Clever. A curse that is 'smart enough to run,' isn't a particularly smart curse at all."

"And you're thinking of... threats, taking hostages, setting traps. Country curses do less of that," he guesses.

"Mmhmm. Finding them is the tricky part of country curses, they can be sneaky little buggers that have lots of places to hide and can be based off of the strangest and most unexpected of things. But they don't really confront sorcerers with their darkest selves."

Inside, Itadori and Hayashi are having a rather boring time of it, actually. On the way up they kill half a dozen minor curses, Itadori with his cleaver, Hayashi with some kind of thrown needle from the pouch she picked up, and absolutely none of them are really worth the time it takes to kill them.

That is, until they reach the top floor.

The top floor has a young boy, and a curse hiding behind it, holding its sharp claw to his throat. Its intention is fairly obvious.

"... Ah," says Hayashi, softly.

Hm.

Itadori takes a step back. That kid dying... would be, like, the opposite of what he just declared to the principal the other day.

What is a kid even doing here.

And how does he save him.

"Okay," sighs the young sorcerer. She lets her fan clatter to the floor, then carefully removes her pouch of sharp needles and tosses it towards the curse. It hits the floor with a clatter, and spills open, scattering them everywhere.

"There you go. Happy, monster? We surrender." She tilts her head. "Aren't you going to come make me regret it?"

The claw at the kid's neck lowers a little, and the curse oozes forward—

—then Hayashi kicks at one of the scattered needles on the floor, and it flies with a speed and power that seems quite impossible, in a completely different direction than the kick itself. It goes right through the curse's skull, which lets out a shriek and dies accordingly.

"Itadori-san, if you could please just escort this kid out of this place safely, I'll handle any leftovers." She sounds irritated, and like she's going to take it out on any curses still alive in the building.

"—yes ma'am right this second ma'am," he says and he is escorting that kid out now before he makes any bad choices.

"Oh good, a full set!" says Gojo brightly, from outside. "She's definitely insane."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. She'll be fine. Probably. She'll probably be fine. Chin up, our protagonist is returning."

He is indeed returning! With a kid in tow. "I got a prize!"

The kid does not look happy to be referred to as a prize. Or maybe he's just traumatised, one of those.

"I'm the one with the purple eyes, you know," Fushiguro grumbles, mostly to himself.

Gojo ruffles Inori's hair fondly, then goes over to take over Kid Duty. Hey there, kiddo! It's okay, you're safe now, etc. etc., don't go doing tests of bravery by wandering into scary places, okay? It's fine, you're not in trouble, we're The Good Guys and just want you to be safe!

Hayashi finishes up inside, and soon steps out again, letting down her hair and putting her fan away, into the pouch at her hip.

"Done. I didn't even get to use my fan. Terrible."

The aura of menacingness accordingly fades away. Fushiguro stands up from where he sat. "We should take the kid back to his place."

"That we shall!"

Soon enough:

   "I live just over here, thanks!" says the boy, waving. In his other hand is a complimentary Exciting Fun Snack from a vending machine, to ease the sting of the horrible trauma of being a hostage to a horrible monster. It's not much, but it's something, and definitely worth the price of a couple hundred yen.

"There. All sorted. See, Inori-kun? Kids are easy!"

"Congratulations, you only took several years to learn how to not sound like a creep, Sensei."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Too long."

"We have not reached the proper social link to unlock his tragic backstory," says Hayashi sagely.

"Well maybe Gojō-sensei could take us on an actual tour so we can bond. Or food! I am starving."

“It is my duty as your Sensei to feed you. Probably. What does everyone want?”

“Sushi,” pronounces Hayashi, immediately.

"Steak!"

Fushiguro has completely left the conversation and is now using his phone.

“And Inori-kun isn’t hungry!” says Gojo brightly. “Off we go, precious students.”

Fushiguro takes a couple of seconds to look up from his phone and notice they're walking away but he immediately jogs over to them when he does.

"Aww he does like us!"

"No." He points at Gojō. "He's my ride."

"You leave your charge alone in Tokyo one time and he insists on keeping you in line of sight forevermore..."

"Are you serious. When was this. Am I going to get abandoned in Tokyo if Sensei sees something shiny? He's my ride, too!"

"I don't think it was shiny," shrugs Fushiguro, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching over, looking bored rather than upset.