A young lady with waist length light brown hair can be seen walking down a narrow back alley on her way back to her apartment on a late Tuesday night. She's wearing a stripped midriff shirt with soft cotton pants, carrying a medium cheap plastic cup of strawberry Boba from the place two blocks over. As she turns a corner, sucking on the straw, she sees him.
"Hm?"
A soft, playful note of surprise breaks through the stillness of the night. The alley path is empty of traffic, lite only by a few faint yellow lights off doorways here & there. He appeared suddenly and silently, yet his presence is impossible to ignore. Snow white hair contrasts sharply with a dark purple coat, and behind the black bandage covering his eyes lingers a knowing smile. Satoru Gojo, the easy going teacher famed for his carefree attitude and razor-sharp mind. He was sent there to that alley on a mission to pursue and neutralize a dangerous threat. He was expecting to encounter something terrifying, or at least unpleasant. Instead, standing in the middle of the path was just her- a short girl wearing what looked like pajamas, holding a drink, looking utterly ordinary.
"So you're the one who messed everything up?"
He tilts his head as he speaks, the smile on his face widening with a teasing edge.
"Honestly, I was expecting something...uglier"
Despite the light, almost flippant air he projects, his focus on the mission never wavers, no matter how ordinary the girl seems.
The girl looked at him, her eyes widening slightly & one eyebrow raised as she took a hesitant step back. Who the hell was this weirdo? He looked like he just escaped the nearest mental health ward or something.
"Kind of rude to call someone you just met ugly, isn't it?" She questioned.
He lets out an amused chuckle, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck in a mock-apologetic gesture. The smile on his face grows even wider, clearly entertained by her response.
"Oh, you've got me there! My bad, My bad."
He takes a causal step closer, hands now sliding into his pockets as he maintains that relaxed posture. Despite the easygoing demeanor, there's an underlying sharpness to his presence- like a predator assessing it's prey while pretending to be completely disinterested.
"But see, here's the thing-most cursed spirits I deal with? They're not exactly winning any beauty contests. Twisted faces, extra limbs, the whole horror show package. So when I get called out here expecting the usual nightmare fuel and instead find someone who looks like they could be grabbing coffee at a normal cafe.."
He pauses, tilting his head the other way now, that blindfold somehow making his attention feel even more focused on her.
"Well, color me intrigued. That usually means you're either way more dangerous than you look, or there's been some kind of mistake. So, which is it, hmm?"
She blinks at him, utterly baffled. She's fully convinced that this is an escaped hospital patient or something. The straw comes up to her lips as she takes a drink, deciding it would just be easier to answer him, "Hm, probably a mistake since I just grabbed some iced boba haha."
He stops mid-step, processing her words for a moment before breaking into genuine laughter. The sound is light and infectious, echoing slightly in the quiet alley, "Boba? Seriously?"
He shifts his weight to one leg, crossing his arms over his chest as his grin takes on an even more amused quality. There's something almost childlike in his delight at the absurdity of the situation.
"Okay, now I'm really curious. See, I got a report about cursed energy signatures going haywire around this area-strong enough that the higher-ups thought it warranted sending me specifically. And you're telling me you were just.. what, on a late-night boba run?"
She gives him a complete deadpan look, not really sure how she's suppose to go along with his delusion.
Despite his playful tone, he doesn't drop his guard. His head tilts slightly as if examining her more closely through the blindfold, then there's a subtle shift in the air around him- nothing threatening, but definitely attentive, "Mind if I ask what flavor you got? And more importantly-" His voice drops just a notch, maintaining that causal charm but with an edge of genuine curiosity, "-Why do I still feel cursed energy coming from your direction? Because unless that boba shop is serving some really cursed drinks, something doesn't quite add up here."
She gave a small exasperated groan. What the hell is with this guy? Shouldn't there be people running around looking for him? She looked down at her apple watch, noticing the time. She had an exam in a few hours that she needed to study for some more. She couldn't stay out here all night until the hospital found their missing patient, "Would you believe me if I told you I had an exam tomorrow? And that's the reason for the boba? Also, it's their signature strawberry shortcake with surprise flavored boba, which might be vanilla now that I taste it again. I only really like sweet things."
She holds the drink out for him. "You want a taste?"
His eyebrows shoot up beneath the blindfold, clearly not expecting that response. For a moment, he seems genuinely caught off guard- a rare occurrence for someone who prides himself on always being three steps ahead.
"An exam? Hold on, hold on-", He uncrosses his arms and waves one hand in a "Wait a second" gesture, that perpetual grin now mixed with bewilderment and amusement.
"So let me get this straight. You've got an exam tomorrow, you went out for stress-relief boba at-" he glances at an imaginary watch on his wrist, "-whatever ungodly hour this is, and somehow in the process, you're radiating enough cursed energy to trigger alarms across the entire district? That's either the most stressful exam in human history, or...."
He pauses when you offer the drink, and despite the situation, his smile softens into something more genuine. He takes a step closer, reaching out to accept it, "Well, I've never been one to turn down free food. Or drinks, in this case."
He takes a sip through the straw, and even behind the blindfold, you can tell he's savoring it with exaggerated thoughtfulness.
"Mmm, definitely vanilla. Not bad-though I'm more of a kikufuku guy myself."
He hands it back, his tone shifting slightly, "But seriously, you're either a sorcerer with terrible control over your cursed energy, or you're got something attached to you that you don't know about. Which one should I be worried about here?"
The girl takes the drink back, deciding to keep playing along until he decides to let her leave. She read somewhere it's safer to do that than argue with a mentally ill person. She brings the boba back up to her lips, taking another sip, unbothered by his mouth being on it for some reason.
"Well, since your imaginary watch seems to not currently be in attendance, let me inform you that this "ungodly" hour is only 12am. Which means I have 9 hours before my exam still. Hence the pj's. The exam also happens to be Statistics Course 2, so I'd count that in the stressful realm of things haha. Umm option one seems less scary than having something attached to me, so we'll go with that one." She explains.
He lets out another laugh, this one carrying a note of disbelief mixed with genuine amusement. He brings one hand up to his face, as if rubbing his temples through the blindfold.
"Statistics Course 2? Oh man, you know what? That actually does explain a lot. I've seen curses born from less stressful situations than that."
He takes another casual step closer, his posture still relaxed but his attention clearly locked onto you. The way he moves suggests someone completely comfortable in any situation, yet constantly aware of everything around him.
"But here's the problem with going with option one—if you were a sorcerer with poor control, you'd probably know about it by now. The cursed energy I'm picking up from you isn't wild or untrained... it's more like—"he pauses, tilting his head as if listening to something only he can perceive,"—like there's something intentionally masking itself. Which brings us back to option two whether you like it or not."
His smile doesn't fade, but there's a slight shift in his tone—still friendly, but with an underlying seriousness.
"Look, I get it. You've got an exam in nine hours, you're in your pj's, you just want to enjoy your overpriced strawberry drink and go home. But that 'less scary' option? It's probably not on the table anymore. So how about we figure out what's actually going on here before something decides midnight is a great time to make things really complicated?"
She raises a brow at him, taking another sip of her drink before answering, "Sure I guess? As long as it only takes an hour? I do need sleep at some point. I do have some questions of my own though? Like who are you & what exactly is cursed energy?" She decides to entertain the guy's delusions a bit longer, hoping if he thinks she believes him enough he'll leave. Her time for studying was ticking away the longer this conversation dragged on with him.
He freezes for a split second, and then his grin transforms into something almost incredulous. He brings both hands to his face this time, dragging them down slowly as if trying to process what he just heard.
"You... you don't know what cursed energy is?"
The revelation seems to genuinely surprise him more than anything else that's happened tonight. He recovers quickly though, his natural charisma kicking back in as he extends one hand toward you in an exaggerated, theatrical introduction.
"Right, okay, let's start from the top then. Name's Satoru Gojo—teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and conveniently, the strongest sorcerer in the world. Not to brag or anything." The way he says it makes it clear he absolutely is bragging, but in a way that's somehow endearing rather than obnoxious.
He drops his hand and starts pacing slightly, gesturing as he talks like a professor giving an impromptu lecture.
"Cursed energy is basically negative emotions—fear, anger, stress—"he emphasizes that last word with a pointed look in your direction,"—that gets concentrated and can manifest into actual, physical threats called cursed spirits. Most people can't see them, but they're everywhere. The more negative energy, the stronger the curse."
He stops pacing and faces you directly again.
"So when someone cramming for Statistics 2 at midnight starts radiating cursed energy like a beacon? That usually means one of two things: either you can naturally produce it, which would make you a potential sorcerer, or something nasty is feeding off your stress and using you as a battery. Either way—"his smile returns, but gentler now,"—I promise we'll have you back in bed within the hour. Scout's honor."
She nods in understanding, even though really she had no fucking clue what this guy was going on about. "Ah okay. So it's sorta like a poltergeist or something. I kind of get it I guess. I mean, besides the psych patient in a straight jacket style you got sorta going on, you seem like an honest guy. I'm a little confused about the blindfold though & if you can even see where you are walking? And you say random skeptically, but people can develop medical conditions randomly, so could that apply to this 'cursed energy' as well?" She tries to insert some logic into his made up scenario.
He bursts into laughter at the straight jacket comment, his shoulders shaking with genuine amusement. When he finally composes himself, he's still grinning widely.
"Psych patient? Wow, that's a new one! Usually people go with 'edgy anime character' or 'trying too hard,' but I like your version better."
He taps the blindfold with one finger, his smile taking on a slightly mischievous quality.
"As for this fashion statement—I can see just fine. Actually, better than fine. I've got what's called the Six Eyes, which basically means I see too much if I don't cover them. Cursed energy, the flow of techniques, your exact position, that little bit of boba you missed on your lip—"he gestures vaguely at your face,"—it's all there. The blindfold just... turns down the volume, so to speak."
He crosses his arms again, clearly enjoying this impromptu Q&A session despite the unusual circumstances.
"And to answer your actually pretty smart question—yeah, cursed energy can develop sort of randomly. Traumatic experiences, near-death situations, extreme emotional duress over extended periods... Sometimes it just awakens in people who had the potential all along." His tone becomes slightly more serious, though still maintaining that casual air. "The fact that you're asking logical questions instead of panicking is either a really good sign or a really concerning one. Most people who suddenly discover this world tend to freak out a bit more."
She shrugged at him. She was good at compartmentalizing.
He steps closer, his voice dropping to a more conversational tone.
"So tell me—anything weird happen to you recently? Besides the exam stress, I mean. Strange dreams? Missing time? Seeing things out of the corner of your eye that disappear when you look directly at them?"
She tilts her head in thought, attempting to honestly answer his question this time. "Well, I mean I normally have strange dreams. but I have insomnia so when I do dream it's rare & I got told that's a bit normal for someone with my type of insomnia."
He nods slowly, processing this new information. Something about the way he tilts his head suggests he's paying very close attention now, despite his relaxed posture.
"Insomnia, huh? And when you do sleep, the dreams are strange..."
He rubs his chin thoughtfully, that ever-present smile dimming just slightly as his analytical mind kicks into high gear.
"See, here's the thing—insomnia and vivid dreams are actually pretty common symptoms when someone's developing cursed energy sensitivity. Your body's subconscious is picking up on things your conscious mind can't process yet, so it keeps you awake or gives you weird dreams as a defense mechanism."
He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the subtle shift in the air around him—not threatening, but definitely present. It's like standing near something powerful that's deliberately keeping itself contained.
"The doctors would say it's normal because, well, they can't see what I can see. And right now?" His voice drops to something almost gentle, which somehow makes it more serious than if he were being stern. "What I'm seeing is cursed energy practically humming around you. Not attacking, not aggressive... almost like it's waiting for something."
He pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the time with a casual glance.
"Alright, new plan. Since we've got an hour and you need answers—how about you tell me about one of those strange dreams? The most recent one you remember. Sometimes the subconscious sees things the conscious mind misses."
"hmmm." She looks up in thought. "Well, it's usually very dark and I'm always in the classroom with this one weird creaky window. And then the door opens and a black figure comes in. I can't move & it just slowly walks to the center of the chalk board. & then I wake up.
His entire demeanor shifts in an instant. The playful smile doesn't disappear completely, but it tightens at the edges. He goes very still—the kind of stillness that suggests coiled energy rather than relaxation.
"A black figure. In a classroom. That approaches but doesn't attack."
He says it slowly, deliberately, as if confirming each detail. His hand comes up to tap against the blindfold again, a gesture that seems almost unconscious.
"And you said this happens repeatedly? Same classroom, same creaky window, same figure walking to the chalkboard?" There's an edge to his voice now—not alarm exactly, but definite interest. "That's not just a stress dream. That's way too consistent, too specific."
He suddenly moves with surprising speed, circling around her slowly. It's not threatening, more like he's examining something only he can see—which, given what he just explained about the Six Eyes, is probably exactly what he's doing.
"Here's what I'm thinking—and stop me if this sounds crazy, but given everything we've already discussed, 'crazy' is pretty relative at this point." He stops in front of her again, hands sliding back into his pockets."That classroom in your dream? Is it a real place? Like, your actual statistics classroom, or somewhere you've been before?"
His tone becomes almost coaxing, encouraging.
"Because if it is, we might need to take a little field trip. Right now. Before your exam."
"Umm. Let me think?"
She taps the straw of boba against her lips
Oh! Well, when I think about it, it kind of reminds me of my classroom from middle school when I first moved to Japan with my mom. But I think the field trip will have to wait. I don't really wanna go out in my pj's with little teddy bears on the bottom. And you know, most serial killer documentaries start like this Gojo-san. A girl in a dark alley with a stranger. And I don't think I could take you in a fight. So, no field trip tonight sir.
He throws his head back and laughs—a full, genuine sound that echoes through the quiet street. When he looks back at you, his grin has returned to its full, playful intensity.
"Serial killer? Me? Oh man, you really know how to hurt a guy's feelings!"
He clutches his chest dramatically, as if wounded, before straightening up with an amused shake of his head.
"Though I gotta admit, you've got good survival instincts. Strange man in a blindfold asking you to go on a midnight field trip—yeah, that does sound pretty sketchy when you put it that way." He pulls out his phone, tapping at it briefly before turning the screen toward you."Here, look—official faculty ID from Tokyo Jujutsu High. See? Completely legitimate, definitely-not-a-serial-killer teacher."
He pockets the phone again, his expression softening into something more understanding despite the lingering amusement.
"But you're right about the teddy bear pajamas. That's a fair point. Besides—"he glances up at the sky thoughtfully,"—if what I'm thinking is correct, that curse has been with you since middle school. It's been dormant, feeding slowly off your stress. One more night probably won't make a huge difference."
He pulls out what looks like a business card, offering it to you.
"Tell you what—take this. My number's on there. After your exam tomorrow, give me a call and we'll check out that old classroom together. Daylight, public place, and you'll have had time to verify I'm not actually a psych patient."His smile turns slightly more serious. "But in the meantime? If anything weird happens—and I mean anything—you call me immediately. Deal?"
She smiles brightly at him while taking the card, "Deal. If the boogey man comes for me tonight I'll call my very own personal ghostbuster haha."
His grin widens at her bright smile, and there's something almost fond in the way he chuckles at her ghostbuster comment.
"Ghostbuster, huh? I'll add that to my resume right under 'world's strongest sorcerer' and 'professional psych patient.'"
He reaches out and gently flicks the edge of her boba cup in a playfully teasing gesture.
"But seriously—keep that card close tonight. And maybe try to actually get some sleep instead of cramming until 3 AM? I know, I know—"he holds up his hands in mock surrender,"—easier said than done with Statistics 2 looming over you. But a well-rested brain remembers formulas better than a caffeinated zombie brain. Trust me, I teach teenagers for a living."
He starts to back away, hands sliding into his pockets as he maintains that casual, confident posture. Even retreating, there's something about him that commands attention.
"Oh, and one more thing—"he pauses, tilting his head with that characteristic gesture,"—if you do have that dream again tonight? Try to remember more details. What's written on the chalkboard, what the figure looks like up close, any sounds or smells. The more information we have tomorrow, the easier this will be."
His smile softens into something genuinely reassuring.
"You're gonna do great on that exam. And after? We'll handle whatever's been haunting your dreams. Sound good?"
She waves goodbye to him for the night, her strawberry boba shaking in her hand as she walks back toward her apartment. "Huh. What an interesting lunatic."
He watches her walk away, that characteristic smile still playing on his lips even as his expression grows more contemplative. The moment she turns the corner and disappear from sight, his entire demeanor shifts. The playful teacher facade drops slightly, replaced by the calculating strategist beneath. He reaches up and adjusts his blindfold, his Six Eyes tracking the cursed energy signature that clings to her like a second shadow.
"Middle school classroom, huh? Dormant for years, just waiting..."He mutters to himself, pulling out his phone to make a quick note. His fingers fly across the screen as he documents the details of the encounter, the unusual nature of the curse's behavior, and most importantly, the fact that she seems completely unaware of it."This is either going to be really simple or a massive pain. Knowing my luck, probably the latter."
He turns to leave in the opposite direction, but pauses, glancing back toward where she disappeared. There's something about the way she handled the situation that intrigued him beyond just professional curiosity. Most people would have either run away screaming or been completely overwhelmed by the information dump he'd just given her, but she'd taken it in stride, asked intelligent questions, and even managed to make him laugh with that serial killer comment. He finds himself hoping that whenever she calls tomorrow after her exam, it'll be because she's ready to deal with this properly, not because something went wrong tonight.
Several hours later, his phone buzzes. The caller ID shows an unknown number, and he answers on the second ring despite the ungodly hour. His voice, when it comes through, lacks any trace of sleepiness. He sounds alert, focused, and there's an undercurrent of concern that wasn't there during your first meeting.
"This is Gojo. Talk to me. What happened?"