#7th dimension

As frequency changes, we often need to take care of it so as not to get lost and even reduce or remain in a lower dimension, which is not beneficial to us or those around us. Below is a brief understanding of what the dimensions are:

The first dimension

is the dimension of the "hardest" matter, but not in the sense of inferiority or density, because in this dimension we have important components that constitute food for life, in addition to "artifacts" of very high vibration (like crystals). In this dimension, we have minerals, rocks, and crystals. These things also coexist in the third dimension, in part, and their energetic matrix is ​​of the first dimension.

The second dimension

is the dimension of plants. Other living beings are incredibly energy amplifiers and often capable of cleansing through the process of attracting energies from other beings and environments. They are sensitive but also strong with elevated frequency and vibration. Plants also coexist with the third dimension, in part, but their energetic matrix is ​​of the 2nd dimension.

The third dimension

is the dimension of matter, where we have physical and earthly experiences. Because it is a dimension where experiences occur, it is a dimension with a frequency largely determined by the average beings who coexist there. Earth is a planet of the 3rd dimension, and its frequency changes according to the actions of its inhabitants, who are human beings, that is, us, for the most part, in addition to animals. Thus, what often determines the frequency of our beloved Mother Earth is humanity. The third dimension is characterized by vibrating much in lower patterns, because it deals with the initial learning experiences of the individual (it does not mean it's about the first incarnations, but rather initial learnings that the Being has not yet been taken by). Due to the strong characteristic of the Ego that ends up prevailing over other points that would matter more, the 3D is a dimension that ends up navigating much more in difficult patterns than in elevated ones.

The fourth dimension

is the dimension of the astral world. Think of a vast corner where there is room for everything you can imagine happening. It is where many beings who pass away live/stay, and it is a place where we see emotions, memories, records of traumas, fears, and also positive emotions and beneficial emotional experiences, where they are kept, recorded. It is where our spirit lives.

Paty, why are you saying that our spirit is there?

I'm saying this because there is a certain sense of separation between the physical body and the spirit (that's why when many project astral, it's as if they literally leave the physical and only transit in the astral world).

However, the separation only exists for some reasons that in the 3D we have a lot of difficulty in integrating the experiences of our spirit (Soul) with ease and, therefore, it could be very difficult to deal with the awareness that our Soul has with the immense tendency of low frequency that a 3D tends to have. In the end, everything is integrated, and the separation occurred because we became the "oil" and that's why the water (spirit) needed to be in a more separate dimension, waiting for our (re)connection, especially when we had cleaned the density of our oil, so that it could come into free contact with the water and unify with it, as it always has been and as it should be. Just an analogy for you to better understand.

Fifth dimension:

is the dimension of consciousness, where there is no separation but integration between what the Being is and what needs to improve. It is the dimension of the search for evolution. It is the dimension of the awareness that everything material is transitory and that eternity resides in the Soul, with its eternal free will to choose how to evolve.

It is the dimension that many beings incarnated here on Earth are already vibrating, even if they are not actually there, they already vibrate at this frequency and therefore remain many moments, they are already being contacted by beings of 5th dimensional frequencies and others higher exactly to serve as a channel for the transmission of knowledge to support others who have not yet found themselves and who are on paths of pain.

It is in this dimension that we detach ourselves from imposed patterns, limiting beliefs, we begin to see that each individual has tendencies of body, emotions and thoughts that reflect exactly his Soul and his desires and current patterns, that each person has an appearance according to their own desires and history of Soul, we value individuality and collectivity.

In this dimension, the Ego begins to be dissolved to make room for a sense that we do not need to compete, because there can be room for everyone if we release unnecessary excess and attachment, which, as we have already said, are based on things that are totally transient but when removed to the point of generating situations where people have nothing and others have much, bring deep suffering, anger, resentments, and marks that reflect for lives and lives. The fifth dimension is the dimension of consciousness expansion.

Sixth dimension:

A much deeper dimension, which is so subtle that things there occur through colors, tones, languages of Light where nothing physical is necessary to feel the manifestations of things. It is the dimension of consciousness that has full control of itself and needs nothing more than its own notion of its depth and wholeness. Some beings, even if they are in the 3D, travel to the 6D when they sleep because their consciousness already vibrates in this energy! Even if they oscillate in this vibration (since vibrating more negatively is not the person's standard, of course), if they vibrate in 6D, they can visit this dimension when they sleep.

Seventh dimension:

is the dimension of pure creativity, of the Power to Create that exists in every individual. It is the plane where the individual still lives and perceives himself as one, does not see himself separated from the other in a pejorative way but is indeed a single consciousness, individualized. However, this is the last dimension where this occurs. Because in others, the Being who reaches them will understand things from the lens that we are literally all One, living in this Unity.

Eighth dimension:

is the dimension of group consciousness. everything is done as a group. the spirit deals with group situations and seeks ascension and evolution of the Whole, its focus in this dimension is exactly this.

Ninth dimension:

It is the place where the consciousness of everything gathers, from the consciousness of planets to galaxies (Yes, all of this has consciousness. Earth, called Gaia or Mother Earth, is a living organism and has consciousness. It is so deep, wide, and vital, has its own language, and is managed by beings of high dimensions, like the ninth above it).

In this dimension, a person feels so expansive that they literally encompass everything around them. It's as if in this dimension, you are the mind of a galaxy, containing all forms of life and celestial bodies. The next dimensions, namely the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth dimensions, represent stages of Creation, let's see:

Tenth dimension:

In the 10th dimension, we find the source of Cosmic Rays (often associated with the Masters of the White Brotherhood), where new plans of creation are conceived and then sent to the next stages. Although we can maintain a sense of "self" at this level, it is different from what we are accustomed to in the third dimension. The 11th dimension holds a deep energy of Expectation, Optimism, and Hope, like the moment before creation, full of anticipation. To understand the energy that permeates this dimension, think of the moment before a sneeze or an orgasm (just an example, not implying that these events lead us to this dimension). The 11th dimension is associated with beings like Metatron and other Archangels. There are Akashic records in this system, ranging from planetary to galactic Akashic records.

Twelfth dimension:

It represents the point where all consciousness perceives itself as a part of everything that exists, without any separation. If we can access this level, we would feel completely united with the universe and the creative force behind it. This encounter profoundly transforms our perception, as once we experience this perfect unity, it's difficult to maintain the same level of separation we had before.

From all this, we can perceive that the dimensions from the 3rd to the 12th represent, ultimately, the levels of evolution we can reach and need to achieve.

Ultimately, Unity and the sense that We Are All One is the purpose, the focus, the goal, and the very means to solve all the issues we currently face in this earthly experience…

All the competitiveness, the endless and unattainable pursuit to "prove" something to others, whether through material goods, money, body, appearance, status, or through social media wanting to propagate ideas like "I'm happier than you, envy me," even though everything we do is far from what true happiness is…

The goal of EVERY Soul is to evolve and, from that, become aware that there is no superiority or inferiority, but rather unity in the pursuit of the common good. This is something quite difficult for the human mind currently living on Earth to integrate easily, but it is indeed possible, and many are beginning to understand this!

If we pause to look at this from an astrological perspective, all of this reflects the Age of Aquarius and the advent of a greater interest in Higher Octave matters, purposes beyond the individual.

The discovery of Higher Octave planets such as Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto, and their perfect resonance with our personality,

is a way for the Cosmos, the Universe, to help us begin to integrate the importance of evolving from the individual to the collective, yet continuing to evolve!

It's important to remember that discussing the Age of Aquarius does not make natives of the Aquarius sign superior to other beings of different solar signs, nor does it make them necessarily special because it's the Age of Aquarius.

Any personal distinction in the collective journey of the Aquarian Age will come from the actions and choices of the individual, not from being of a certain sign.

The Ages represent the purest qualities of the signs.

People will subvert and manifest, as we see here and there, both the good and bad characteristics of the signs. All with their free will.

In account of Satoru's stunt that he just pulled under those foolish clothing that covered his damn heavenly eyes, you were going ape. The anger seen from Inside Out that was shown and created by Disney had been an elaborated representation of who you are right now. The Tiny-Chan who'd went berserk and trying to pin-point where your target was.

You were obviously the victim here. It wasn't Satoru, no.

Hence, standing in the middle of a large track and field wasn't enough to track down the menace. Once you were in a towering---tiny rage and in ones chagrin, the determination was set unrelented. By hook or by crook, you were ticking this down on your bribery notes you had for Satoru. Alongside, thinking of his broken promise as another of your protection rackets you had for him.

"I'M BURNING YOU ALIVE, YOU ANNOYING BLINDFOLDED IDIOT! JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE!"

In the midst of rousing from your day. The sunlight irradiating panels of warm beam across your face despite of remembering how you've left it closed last night. Your wonderment quickly has been given an answer to when you've been greeted by your stuffed cat toy who was neatly placed on the end of your bed. You were still sleepy-eyed, blinking through your awakened slumber. Blurry vision adapting along a morning you've hoped to be peaceful even just for the time being.

Just for at least the moment you haven't stepped foot outside Satoru's dormitory room because he might be lurking around somewhere.

Yet, the hope has just been a chasm of shattered dreams when your prized possession named 'Toru' had such a patterned, flowery piece of Granny-panties worn across its head; delineating it as a form of blindfold---much to his sheer jolly and persistent belief that you've chosen the white cat in hopes of remembering him when he wasn't around. It stretched across its poor head, squeezing it as if 'Toru' was being suffocated.

Death from Granny Panties it was then.

Waking up to that alone was enough to consider why you've even thought that Satoru was capable of holding a green flag alongside the red.

But, you were caught raising the red flag and probably screaming his full name on your pillow when you've seen a pre-recorded device that rested upon the bed-side table. Curiosity killed the cat---it even spoiled the broth; the fantasy of a dream you've wished to have once you've pressed play.

Thus, through gritted teeth, you've listened. The device being placed on your ear and you've felt a mixture of emotions rush through you. "Now, now. Don't be shy---," Satoru's recorded voiced inflamed the ignominy of a half-meant blague, egging on to the reaction he had gotten since that train escapades you both had. Not gonna lie, but he'd gotten you on the first half of his pause. His silvery pitch stimulating that warmth spreading through your belly when the second half of his pre-recorded message had your fingers tightly clutching onto the device like you were bound to hurl them away.

"---Feel free to wear it, Tiny-Chan. Hehehe. Don't miss me too much, alright?"

You were actually kicking your feet underneath the duvet like a spoiled and pettish kid.

Satoru even stoked your infuriation up. His stunts never ended with that. He was known to be ambitious, having this certain desire to top off more than what was expectant of him. You've thought he would've been lenient towards you, perceiving that mercy he had for his students had already been a special prize earned for you.

Yet, you were wrong.

Satoru had taken all of your underwear that has already been washed and were newly bought by him. The embarrassment you've gathered with every type of intimate apparel that he had criticized and joyously taken part in. Others being handpicked by the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer as if he acted that he would get a fortunate stroke of serendipity over seeing you in it.

You've convinced yourself that he was the financer and let him sort what he thought would float your boat.

His choices were safe because he'd taken at least every type and choice along the basket you've held. From an intimate apparel that you would surely wear till the peppery hot ones. Downright naughty and obscene enough for you to think twice, making you stop in your tracks as you've did a double take; a double-check on the apparels alone.

The blistering heat traveling towards your face when you've given each a thorough inspection, your expressions pulling your face into a blend of horror and embarrassment.

It was entirely surprising that despite of how he was haphazardly selecting which was which, the sizes were actually damn right.

Because the perverted idiot has coaxed you into telling your vital statistics to him.

He even got to the point of slipping a risquè lingerie without even being aware of it until it was finally in a heap of intimate apparels that the cashier has randomly dropped off in one go which earned a whisper grumble of your native language once you've deliberately took a side-step to hid behind Satoru's gigantuan height to cast a shadow upon your humiliation.

If only you were in your dimension---you wouldn't have been this much of a beggar.

This third stunt he pulled sent you in a fit of rage because he has left you with nothing but those Granny-Pannies he had worn over Neko-san. How maddened you were after seeing the drawer that were once filled with new set of undergarments after having a neat, calming shower and expecting that he wouldn't make your hackles rise more, you've completely underestimated the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer alive.

Gojo had left you nothing but those granny-pannies and a bra that matched with the pattern of it. Highly remembering that you had not bought nor had the possibility that he had slip them in the basket aside from the coveted lingerie you had no idea in.

Which resulted why you screaming your lungs out in the middle of Tokyo Jujutsu High's Track N' Field like a berserk woman, hunting down Satoru through high and low, knowing damn well that he teleports wasn't helping the idea that he did not want to be seen nor remembered the promise he made in the middle of your supposed to be slumber.

"Tiny-Chan!"

You were seated on the side of your bed. Ready to have the nap of your life when Satoru suddenly popped in like a bubble in front of you. The blindfolded man-child just used his teleportation abilities like he had already been using them from the start without prevarication. He was now garbed in his usual Jujutsu uniform. His Stygian blindfolds over his eyes as if he had work or had been working after that rendezvous you've had with him, this succeeding ventures had been after the meeting he had with that particular principal and the old man he was pertaining to back at the time being.

"What the---really!---don't you know how to knock, Satoru?!" you've held onto your chest, your heart beating fast and not knowing if it was because of the fact that he surprised you or was it because of his unsolicited presence around the room.

It was probably both. Since you weren't entirely acceptant over the idea that people had the privilege to pop around and second was the actuality that his presence alone had been too compelling for the heart that he was inured to this unwelcomed invite to his---well...---own quarters.

"Oi, Isn't this my room to start with?" Satoru retorted, sending the question back in a beguiled, contemptuous resonance of his voice. He'd brought a finger, pointing towards the ceiling to quip his sarcasm as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "---You're technically the trespasser here."

You've opened your mouth to speak but called a halt to it, giving him a shrug of your shoulder instead. This period of lethargy taking a toll on you, worn to a frazzle to even retaliate to his accustomed teasing here and there.

Again, this came forth to be the new normal for you when you've began to exhibit your presence from the moment you've stepped foot on Satoru's dimension. If earth---the one you lived in for years had everyone adapting to their dilemma of habituating to COVID-19's new normal--- Perhaps, in the actuality of Satoru's world, he was the plague needed to be adapted.

Such a wonderful, stellar, headache of a plague indeed.

"Whatever. It's like...past midnight already. What do you want?"

Satoru was wasting his time---your time---into hemming and hawing before actually being forthright, gaping up at the ceiling and trying to mentally word out what he wanted to say with a lingering hum. "Hm..." he trailed off, a thick finger situated under his chin while he began to mule over the idea he had, "I want breakfast tomorrow."

You've given him a lethargic blink of an eye, those random conversations and discussions you had with him seeming to bore inside your mind that you had to mention again, "I remembered you told me you knew how to cook on your own."

Hence, the white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer was---obviously---proud at that. Satoru even told you and by meaning of telling, he gladly emphasized that he could do a lot of things---Anything. Gojo bragged to make it clear, which is why it was making you wonder why you were being asked to cook for him aside from his sweets that he has always been selfish of, keeping them all for him to take and devour.

"Yep! Hehe. Your ruptured head's recovering then! I'm glad you remembered how I could do a lot of things!" Satoru chuckled. You've never noticed that he feigned the awkwardness that seem to strain along his words with a laugh, like a kid being caught for lying or for whatever he wanted to actually say.

"It's because you just basically told me about it this morning when we were out for shopping," you raised a brow, wanting him to continue further. A solid reasoning that could get you to say yes as you added, "---What's in it for me if I do so?"

That sounded like a curt query. The first dulled reply he had gotten out of you today. This out of the blue visit he had was eating away at him. Satoru was mentally blaming your obstinate reasoning over all. Whether you had trust issues, he had no idea. It appeared like you always needed evidences through your words---his words---to believe a fact. He seemed to be dwelling this casual conversation too much with you because of a timbre that he had an aversion to but he just could not get the proper words out of his mouth verbally tonight.

Did he do something wrong?

The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer began to putter around his old room, wandering towards a vacant area within his chambers that his own, impulsive footing has brought him in before he could even come to realize. He'd graciously leaned on the wall with the need to cross his arms in his snazzy posture.

"Well, I just want you to cook breakfast for me. Although, I'm not craving for anything sweet tomorrow. Perhaps, after. I probably would. So, what do ya' say, huh?"

Reveling more in such a sapped state made you more nonchalant than ever. The most offhand chatter he ever experienced with you. It made his lukewarm conversations he had with Nanami Kento sound better than this enervated discourse he was having. Had he visited you in a wrong time then? Were you sick? Had you experienced another mindwrecking headache again?

What was he even saying? His mouth forced the urge to frown from his concealed, latent thoughts. Another discovery, one that left him slightly perturbed through that sheltered cage he never wanted to rattle. Though, he'd also learned and caught sight of your bare, fretful toes shaded beneath the ends of your Pajamas that were of a flurry, grazing against each other as time passed by with him.

You were knackered and anxious at the same time.

"Kay, Satoru."

Satoru blinked from beneath his blindfolds, his hands that were now inside his pockets seeming to cease from aimlessly touching the fabrics and his possessions inside when he'd heard that totally bushed out whisper of yours, the bonny obedience---an off the record finding that he'd somehow perceived to be oddly captivating have dragged that significant heat towards that deepest parts of him.

It traversed towards bizarre points ought to be tinted in hues. This fuzzy feeling of his scattering in positions he was not ready for. An intricate sentiment that was filled of recondite senses; more so than what a battle of Jujutsu could ever bring him in.

"Kay? As simple as that? Uh---Alright, alright. You're not complaining this time? Not even a single one? No rebuttal or anything?"

He'd taken a fat pause, seeming to be taken to a spot that made his side unfavorable when it never---ever---happened before. Satoru knew he should've thought twice despite of not acquiring the said word from the dictionary. This whole weary discussion he was having had been purely adverse from his rash decisions of his inability to catch some z's since the last few months.

It had become dreadful. Tiring to be honest because the longest snooze he had was at least a maximum of two to three hours tops.

He was entirely aware that you were in your most jaded condition. Definitely a shedload of your pooped state that Satoru has encountered for the very first time. You were slothful upon blinking, cutesy as he ever did inattentively identified while waiting for him to say anything else. Was it this unsettling feeling that left him uncomfortable now when you weren't talking a lot?

Satoru Gojo wanted you talking. He was bent on for you to throw things at him. A tissue paper, a pillow or anything at least, much to his surreal proclivity. The white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer subtly desired for your piqued retaliations for his rash, annoying gestures and habits.

Yet, this wasn't what he has mentally pictured to be in when he had impulsively welcomed himself to announce his presence to your fatigued form.

"Don't forget to save a portion of meal for you too." Satoru added as a matter of fact, not getting the right words out of his mouth that earned an indistinct, shaky grin from the latter.

A tottering grin?

It was a far-fetched idea. One that was impossible for the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer but he felt it.

You raised both of your brows, certainly leaving you skeptical into thinking that you would cook only for him when it wasn't even his precious sweetmeats to begin with, "You think I'm going to cook only for you? Hey, I've learned from my mistakes over how you're not bound on sharing yours. You're an uncharitable, guy."

He chuckled underneath that subtle, miniscule, waver of his breath, "You sure know that only happens with my sweets, Tiny-Chan." pause. "---says the penny-pinching, parsimonous girl who's cheap as heck when it's not even her money to begin with. Look at all these bags scattered around." Gojo simply flicked a wrist to gesture towards the chaotic paper bags, those that were of a higgledy-piggledy mountain of them casted off on one corner. His slovenly speech continuing on, "---yet, to think that you're calling me uncharitable?"

"Oh, hush. I'm done arguing about that tonight. I'll deal with you tomorrow. Kay? Sweet dreams!" It was short. Blunt. Impassive which had been contrast to that keyed up heart dancing to the Macarena when Satoru had visited you during the night, unprompted.

This contrasting fusion inhabiting more to your jaded silence that waited with bated breath. You were trying to finish the conversation with him, his presence that has always created rattles after rattles for your heart. Every minute of the day and every time you were adapting, it seemed like it was becoming easier to control it all through an exterior, a veneer composure masked from the outside. But, in all sincerity---you were internally rickety whenever he was around and whenever you were entirely conscious of him.

With all possible haste, you've pulled the hem of the duvet over your head, turning your body away from the Jujutsu Sorcerer who tarried a bit longer than he intended to. He'd deliberated towards your answer that went straight over your shoulder, literally and figuratively. He'd stared with wonder, caught from the rude awakening that you've tried to cease in between the nightly discussion you were having with him.

Guess Satoru had to goof off on other things instead to surpass this insomnia he was having.

"E-Eh? But---you're gonna' cook breakfast for me, right?" his mouth was unable to fight the frown off his face from being shunned to the side, thwarted by the brief end of a conversation that he was experiencing from his Tiny-chan. He'd impatiently waited for a little while before gaining nothing but your intentional silence in return, "---It's a promise then! Goodnight! See you tomorrow! Hehe!" Gojo sent a feigned, final beam before he'd clasped his hands together, popping off like a bubble like how he'd popped in as quick as how he'd appeared was as brisk as how he had left.

You'd breathed out a sigh of relief, stretching out your folded, rubbery legs from the fetus position you were in once you were tucked in your own bundle of unpigmented color of a duvet.

Satoru simply did not want to eat alone. This anomalous instinct of keeping you around at all costs, seizing you under the tutelage of his influential existence. He actually had just taken a fancyto have breakfast with you and his attempt over saying the exact words were futile to his damned surprise.Though, he was satisfied over the results of this unwanted visit he planned because it still had you cooking for him, brewing another planned bonding and schedule of a rendezvous he'd covertly anticipated for.

Until his world needed him again and again, aspiring to pour cold water over this morning meal he had in mind.

"Megumi."

Maki Zenin, currently a second-year student at Tokyo Jujutsu High. She was born as a non-sorcerer in one of the Big Three Sorcerer Families and has been constantly mistreated which lead to her own ousting from the Zenin clan. She held onto her wooden stick made to use for training that hung over her shoulders. Her hazel peepers criticizing your form over the middle of the wide-reaching field, a nameless woman who was screaming where the heck was Gojo Satoru hiding.

Megumi sat along the cemented stairs, watching you with an impassive expression on his face. Probably judging why you were screaming in the middle of it all and was musing the cause through your rampage that was certainly out of the blue.

"Zenin-Senpai." he acknowledged her with a lethargic drawl of his voice. He was inert upon blinking to himself when they were a witness of those child-like stomps you were giving to the poor ground as you peered up at the sky. The next yelling filled with native phrases they couldn't decipher.

"Thought, I told you to never call me that," pause. "---There's a mad, foreign woman screaming the blindfolded dumbass's name like a haunted prayer."

Maki stated as a matter of fact, another one of Satoru's students who doesn't seem to respect him as a person due to his renowned very goofy attitude of his, even as he was her teacher and senior. The young second year student pondered upon who you were, "What did he do now?" she'd taken a pause, scrutinizing you from head to foot through her eyeglasses that allowed her to see cursed-spirits. She'd considered your height and judged your existence to be more on the younger side, "---Is she a new first year?"

"Huh?" Megumi was caught off guard at that as he had given Maki a glance, shaking his head to correct her, "---No. That's Eigo-San."

"Eigo-San?" she'd responded in utmost curiosity for the sobriquet given, her eyebrows furrowed enough to express her befuddlement.

"Y/L/N, Y/N." Fushiguro continued further, stabilizing the context of his information with the right details as he played with fingers, keeping them together as they've given you both their gazes. Gojo's name being repeatedly called out loud in the middle of all in piqued repetition.

"---A woman who happened to come from another dimension. No identity other than a name."

Maki has given him a glance of the dubiety for such a ridiculous viewpoint and theory. This source of amazement never to be expected by such an occurrence that was bound to happen, "Expect that you'll be seeing her a lot. She's always with Gojo-Sensei. She doesn't have a choice because she doesn't have anyone else aside from him."

She had her mouth ajar for a moment, trying to get that whammy of an information gradually taking its process inside her brain before she gave Megumi a grin, "That happens now too? Travelling from one world and to the other?---" pause. "---Is there actually another dimension aside from the one we're standing on right now? The world sure is changing then." Maki drawled the end of her words a little, disbelief framing her face as the wind hits her face. The short ponytail for her sage green hair that she'd fixed for herself swaying along the breeze of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

"It's only Gojo-Sensei who she understands miraculously. Though, he speaks the same language as we do. Then, vice versa. It's weird to say. Very." Megumi added another fact for her to get to know you better and be accustomed by the possibility that you would be seen around by hook or by crook. Sooner or later to be introduced to her because you were somehow always with their teacher 24/7.

"Any abilities she could wield?" she asked, curious and wondering if Gojo had taken you in the institute because you had a potential.

Maki was sure you had at least the idea of the Jujutsu Society or even the possibility you could train an ability. She hoped to train with you as well, probably play around a bit as she found you lowkey adorable for such guts over cursing Gojo's name like a haunted prayer as if you could even get to touch him physically. Never expecting such exasperation coming from someone so miniscule.

"Probably Gojo-Sensei's attention. She gets it all. He bugs the heck out of her whenever he could. If she's around, it's as if she's the only one he sees. Finally, someone who could keep him distracted besides annoying us all whenever he wants."

Maki snickered to herself. Well, that was an ability she'd never expected. It was a skill indeed. Probably a talent sent from the heavens above because everyone damn knew and was damn sapped from the sensei's constant need upon creating ruckus upon ruckus.

Everybody would get to have the break they deserved then.

"---Aside from that, none. She's a non-sorcerer but not an aspiring Jujutsu Sorcerer. Also, she seems to act like an idiot just like sensei from time to time." The people that Gojo antagonizes nonstop were probably applauding and cheering for your existence, perhaps kneeling before you like a gem sent from above, Maki silently thought to herself.

All those thoughts inside her head has been kept to herself as she silently listened and comprehended to Megumi's school of thought, humming to his response as she nodded, "Hm. Her existence is interesting then."

She thought he was done with his notions until Megumi decided to add more to his theories. The hearsays that begun since the moment you've been transferred to their world as Ijichi somehow had accidentally slipped an information out or two when he'd explained their latest assignments for them. During the middle of his drive, Kiyotaka run his mouth off before he could even realize that Megumi were critically analyzing through it all.

"But, I've...somehow gotten a gist of why she's being kept around, I suppose." he dragged on, hearing you scream another of Gojo's full name out in the heat of the sun, "---Gojo-Sensei believes that this woman might be a clairvoyant for the Jujutsu Society. I have no idea why so."

Maki's ears instantly perked up at that.

Without doubt, that sounded like a functional ability. Another skill that could be considered impressive somehow. Did you also have cursed energy? She had no idea over how your fortune telling worked and thought it through if there was one in the Jujutsu Society who held such.

"Eh? Think she knows my future then? Should I ask her? Would she be quick to give me an answer?" Maki smirked, skeptical that she wanted to have her palm be read by you because of her undying curiosity.

"---Does it require any amount of cursed-energy to be used?"

Megumi shrugged to himself, sighing at the less than fifty percent that it wasn't possible as of the moment, "No. I doubt she's bound to know even that. I don't have an idea upon how it works for her. It's like she doesn't also understand what's happening at all. Gojo-sensei never tells a thing. Plus, she has an intense amount of amnesia that he's trying to help her with,---" he murmured under his breath, making it sound like you forgotten how to use your abilities. Never knowing that your abilities---this ability he was saying actually only supported sketches and not actually being read through a tarot card or lines on a person's palm if it was seen solely as how normal people perceived fortune-telling to be within the conventional aspect of it, "---if he's even helping her..."

Maki pulled a face before she shrugged to herself, leaving the issue alone to the first year students who initially knew you from the start. You've held a permanent scowl to your face. It felt utterly blazing due to the anger and humiliation you were feeling. The intimate set being worn right now underneath your clothes because of Gojo's ruse to wedge you further into this displeasure he had stowed you in.

Maki Zenin noticed you were coming for them, starting to saunter near. Primitively deciding that you were walking to have a conversation with her second nephew who had already been talking to you and had exchanged discussions every once in a while. She'd completely wanted to avoid you for now, perhaps because of the language that she was not fluent with.

"The girl's coming this way." she simply stated, making Fushiguro grumble from how he was being caught in a conversation with you again, a grimace on his face when you began walking towards them while Maki was preparing herself to skedaddle, "---Eh. You handle her. Panda and Toge's probably at the entrance already,"

Panda and Toge were already at Itadori's room. She knew that and even told Megumi about it. That was when he knew that his aunt was lying and just wanted to avoid having a discussion with a foreign person she didn't know yet.

Upon garnering a closer distance, approaching Megumi and a young woman with a tall, athletic built that has instantly kept you beady-eyed for her appearance and stature. You've given the green-haired woman a look. She had fringes of her sage green hair over her forehead with smaller strands which framed her cheeks, another beauty just like Nobara whom you had no idea why she was all acting hostile for your presence since the moment you were both introduced.

You had no idea but this woman who began to advance forward, technically about to pass by just screams the capacity and the prospective into becoming stronger than she intended to.

Until the moment you've blinked an eye, you've felt as if a large stone was enough to keep your mind stumbling from the short, quick image. The sudden agonizing pain that pooled along your temples from a blurred, fuzzy scene along your head that was ought to be interpreted to obfuscate what it really meant. It was colored. One which appeared to be of concrete reality.

A woman who had her skin incinerated and flawed but was strong enough whom had a weapon on her hand. Accompanied with circled glasses and shortened black hair, partnered by a black uniform and a cape that was attached to her shoulder blades.

You've ceased along your march, not being called out through words but acknowledged by the green-haired girl with a subtle indecipherable smile. Those thoughts in the back of your mind, wordless to begin with as it echoed from within, "That's strange. She wasn't even short haired to begin with."

Was that her in the future? or was it a different woman?

You've felt warm, liquid pool along your nostrils. Before you could even realize it, this tiny amount of crimson fluid began to drip down in a creeping pace. Hence, that was the moment you've known that the woman you've seen inside your head was indeed, her.

She didn't seem happy at all from that particular picture and you had no idea nor have any theories about what happened and why she ended up that way. You've kept your mouth shut. This thorough dwelling making you mentally muse on the idea if it was needed to be told to Satoru when he wasn't even around to start with.

Was she one of his students as well?

"Are you okay, Eigo-San?"

You've heard Megumi asked. As genuine as he wanted it to sound to be. The impassive tonality still hinting more to this unfeigned side he was sporting on. He had begun to walk your way, catching you off guard to say the least as the first year student was being the person who'd actually approached you right now to initiate a conversation.

He'd turned the volume of his phone to the highest as Megumi used Google Translate for you. His clothed arm that was garbed in his accustomed Jujutsu clothing. The descendant of the Zenin family outreached to keep his cellphone closer to be heard and patiently waited for the translator to speak, keeping you under tabs as you have been wiping your nose in discreet. Though, he had already seen it despite of your desire to conceal it from the latter.

Was it because of the brain damage you've had and it wasn't entirely healed yet? Megumi thought to himself, keeping his hunches to his head.

"I'm...fine. It's just the after effects of the...accident, I suppose." you've began, making it sound like you were trying to convince yourself and not him. You've eyed the green haired woman who was now out of sight, continuously patting your bleeding nose with the back of your hand, lucky that it stopped as it wasn't an ample amount of liquid which needed any tissue or handkerchief. It wasn't the type where it could be considered as over the top. Just a minimal amount.

"Who was she? The...girl with the ponytail?"

Megumi blinked to your sudden query, brushing it off like it was nothing, clueless for those unforeseen nose bleeds and for what it meant behind it all aside from Satoru who knew damn well now that it consisted of the idea that you were seeing something that would be of use or had been images from their dimension in which he highly believed of, or that---in which he self proclaimed---to be a result of his attractiveness that was too hot to bear.

"Ah. She's my aunt. Her name's Maki Zenin."

You've given it a subtle nod of understanding. Wordless as you ever been when you've felt the pain finally fading away. Maki Zenin. Her name does ring a bell somehow yet you had no idea where and why.

It definitely sounded like Sushi though.

"Where is he?" that 'he' that you were pertaining to, Megumi instantly knew who it was and minimally elucidated for you.

"Gojo-Sensei? He went on a business trip." he phlegmatically responded. Nevertheless, subtly scrutinizing you from beneath his thick eyelashes that you were oblivious for because of his indelible, impassive expressions.

"But, he promised---" you started, your face falling when you realized that he would probably take longer than expected when Satoru was concluded to be in the midst of whatever business trip he was taking.

Was this rendezvous he planned could even be considered as a promise or a demand from the latter?

Your words were discontinued and Fushiguro wondered why it was. He decided to prod further upon the topic of why you were screaming like a banshee in the middle of Tokyo Jujutsu High, "Did he do something by the way perhaps?" Megumi eventually changed the topic, reading through your expressions that you weren't going to continue your previous sentence, "---You've been screaming his name at the top of his lungs in the middle of the institute."

Thus, suddenly you've felt your face began to rocket through this flustering heat when you've remembered the reason in the first place.

"Well---Satoru---and, Well...I---We---ugh---we had---well---we---" you've stumbled upon your words, ending with a nervous giggle that the Shikigami user eventually had criticized and given a weird look to it.

He had gotten the wrong idea of putting two and two together. Especially since the part where you pointed out that shaky, embarrassed 'He' and 'I' again and again through the sentence formed and declared for him to hear. His accusations definitely a wide off the mark from the veracity of things.

You've seen Fushiguro's mouth mold into a tight grimace, the most expressive you've seen him in that instigated to your perusal, your mouth pursing through this odd expression he was having. His face gradually turning beet red and you pondered why.

"Have you eaten breakfast, Megumi?" you changed the topic after a long awkward pause between you both. The embarrassment dying down from the speechlessness that has occurred, but it was giving the impression like your humiliation passed on towards the black-haired first year student.

Megumi was dealing with this sudden awkwardness that you were unwary of, "Huh?" he questioned, doing a double take as he was holding onto the upper part of his uniform jacket, pulling them further to his mouth, taking a grip from saying anything more.

"---Hm."

Your discomfiture was now changed into sheer curiosity for whatever he was thinking. You've given him a knot of your brows, a smile beaming on your face as you were spontaneous to decide for him, "That was a no then! Come on!" you've began to walk back towards the path back to Tokyo Jujutsu High, passing by the juvenile upon trudging up the cemented stairs that he has been sitting on beforehand.

You've heard no footfall coming from behind, instigating that the first-year Jujutsu Sorcerer was pensive over the whole turn of events. Spinning on your heels and paving to give your attention at Megumi who was on a deadlock, standing still upon where he stood. You've second look behind when he didn't plan to move. With a persuasive and enthusiastic wave of your hand, you've tried to prevail on the idea further.

This abrupt goal of sharing time together with one of Satoru's trusted students, coming through a forethought of seeking answers to your undying curiosities of what was really happening to their world. The accurate ones that were to be gainful rather than the terse statements and jokes you were constantly receiving from Gojo whenever you were intrigued by the whole Jujutsu thing.

You were staring back at Megumi when he was just silently staring at you, unable to tell what was running inside the young man's mind from all the apathetic spirit he was relishing on, "Sea-Urchin! Let's go then! I'll cook something for you!" pause. "---are you really this slow?!"

"Says the one who's extremely and quickly exhausted with just twenty steps away upon trying to run off from Gojo-sensei." The black-haired juvenile mindlessly thought on the back of his mind as he could recall the first time he had seen you all petrified after the tree-branch incident. 

Fushiguro began to wander towards you with thorough speculation. You were garrulous from complaining how unrushed he was. He strolled alongside once he approached near, his phone now laying upon the palm of your hand as you've randomly talked about a lot of your randomized perceptions, jibber-jabbering through it all that you've even got to the point of telling that Gojo did not take a fancy over his Shiitake mushrooms in which the first year student was slightly staggered to know.

You were in the midst of your footslogs with the sea-urchin when you've heard Nobara call in such a boisterous volume from a distance.

"Fushiguro!" Kugisaki hollered with knotted brows, a fixated grimace warped along the exteriors of her pretty face, those tangerine colored eyes of hers landed on you, getting a gist she was not delighted enough to be around your presence at this certain moment.

There was something with you. This comfortable but irritating feeling. From the beginning that Satoru has introduced you and announced your existence to be all over the place---basically, on every side where their Sensei would be. Since the Hatagaya cursed-spirit incident, his students were positive that you were of someone that would be held accountable for whatever he needed or see to be of benefit if he made it clear to aid you away from cursed-spirits.

One ought to be perceived as someone who needed saving. It was probably that idea in which Nobara felt the revulsion for. A whole contradiction to her character as she was known to be a confident and brash young woman with an unshakable personality who takes great pride in being both a pretty girl and a strong fighter. How futile you were in a world where women needed to be strong.

It just had to be a woman like you that was transported to their world for no reason that Satoru's students could ever predict of as they were impervious of the shrouded rationality that fate has bestowed upon you that Satoru was totally keeping behind closed doors even with the trust that he had for them.

Although, this privy comfort being familiar somehow made it displeasing for her. She just couldn't grasp around it or why she was even having the need to feel this particular way. Though, it was no use for her to blame you because you were---a person who shouldn't have been teleported to their dimension from the start.

Kugisaki Nobara had caught up to the both of you, passing a glance as if you weren't there and deliberately stood beside Fushiguro, avoiding to graze clothes with you as she has bothered to ask the first-year student. This query obvious to be sent towards her friend.

"Can I come with?"

"Expect that you'll be seeing her a lot. She's always with Gojo-Sensei. She doesn't have a choice because she doesn't have anyone else aside from him." I'm cackling with this. Megumi's being sassy again, huh? you didn't have to be so---HAHAHAHAH 

Also, don't worry. Nobara's going to warm up to Tiny-Chan soon enough.

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED EVERYONE! LOVE LOTS FROM YOUR MAMA TATA! <3  

"Ms. Y/N?" Angie curiously called from the cash register, she was a co-worker, the only person whom you actually trust a hundred and one percent besides the others who were new to the pastry shop you owned.

Your profound thoughts were ceased, engrossed with the ponder and also from the manga you were reading. If you were actually being honest, you didn't like where this certain chapter was going because the author has begun a massacre of diminishing your favorite characters. It was actual chaos. Fight scenes were obviously epic, though it left everyone vulnerable into thinking rationable decisions, creating them into what an author would do to break the readers' hearts.

The author, under the pen name Gege Akutami still wanted them to think how a decent human would.

Normal was not the correct term if you were being specific because nothing was entirely ordinary with a manga entitled Sorcery Fight.

The only ounce of realism with sorcery in earth would be witches, paranormal activities, ghosts and many other spectral things that not even a scientist could even explain.

Curses might be true but the only curse you've received or given were probably words that would be considered explicit or a state of the moment where you've stepped on a piece of Lego from your nephew who was playing on the floors of your home.

"Jujutsu Kaisen," now, Angie was a lot more comprehensible. Considering the distance that was cut short. You've craned your neck to give her a skeptical glance, quietly asking what she needed when you were on a break after helping her with groups of friends who came in a while ago, they were rowdy but entertaining to watch. It made you reminisce with the moments you had with your friends before you've graduated your bachelors degree.

You were once carefree, filled with blithe and in all likelihood the ones where who had jokes hidden beneath her sleeves whenever you were acting out your extrovert phase.

Yet, today---Adulting has taught you how to conceal every problem with a smile and it was funny how one year could change you apart.

"You know I read this because it's my comfort---" you were cut off as Angie sat in front of you, hair tousling around as she energetically does so with that special beam of hers. "---your comfort zone. I know, I know. You love anime and manga." she took a breather, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she leaned back on her chair to stare straight into your eyes.

"---I assume your Gojo is probably dead already considering the gloomy aura that I'm feeling from you," your co-worker playfully teased, noticing the huff of breath she heard. The smile on your face lets her know that she had already taken you out of your pondering, getting you in a better mood was the best she's at.

"No," you shook your head, grabbing onto your JJK book mark which you have bought from an online shop and carefully inserting it in between the chapter where Shibuya Arc had already started. "---he can never die. He's the strongest. You know this---"

Angie raised both of her eyebrows in question and rather to vex you even more with a look, trying to act pesky, "Yeah, until he gets trapped inside a box. He's strong for sure."

You couldn't help but shake your head with a smile, knowing that her spoiling would never get to offend you, knowing that you were already spoiled due to the reality of the internet where scrolling down could ruin a scene or story for you in just a blink of an eye.

"Stop slandering him." you deadpanned nasally with a snort, grabbing onto your bag to check the time through your phone. There was no use for the fingerprint sensor as it has already been 72 hours of not typing in your passcode. Hence, you've begun typing Gojo's birthday because your brother instantly knows you would use your own birthday for a lock code, considering you do not have a man in your life as of the moment.

So, using a 2D character's birthday was safer than yours to keep your family from lurking through your phone. It was better they knew nothing of your preferred kind of online books. You wouldn't want them collapsing for your wholesome...choices.

"---Or else I'm slandering your Megumi." you taunted while being focused on your phone, "---Sea Urchin." another snort left your lips as you focused on the time. It was exactly 8:30 PM and closing time for your pastry shop was around 9:30 PM.

"Gojo-in-the-box. Get it? Jack-in-the-box, Ms. Y/N?" Angie started to send back a banter as she begun to lightly tap on the underside of your flat shoes with her heeled ones. You hushed her to tone it down a little bit due to that one certain petite customer dressed in nothing but a black jacket and cap which refrained you from seeing if it was a man or a woman. You've left the customer to his or her own comfort as you understood that other people find peace within their own.

Hence, Angie was left unflustered and continued her jests with such boisterous singing which made you groan. "I told you to stop calling me miss when we're the only ones around."

"Oh, humble. The complete opposite of her favorite character trapped inside the prison realm. Hmm." your co-worker wiggled her eyebrows back at you as she stood up from her seat,  "But, we're not the only ones around tonight yet, Ma'am." she pointed back at the only customer who refrained from giving eye-contact with everyone ever since tons of customer dined-in this afternoon. Yet, this person was still lingering around your shop like he or she planned to stay till closing time.

You've given this customer a once over and noticed how he or she shifted, turning to look away and out of the window before you've grabbed onto your Jujutsu Kaisen manga and comfortably leaned back to continue reading, nodding back at Angie as she planned to buss out everything for the day.

"Touchè."

"Take care going home, Angie."

Standing alongside the pavements of where your shop stood behind you both, your home was technically kilometers away from the designated area of your pastry shop while Angie's were closer than yours, it was a walking distance from her perspective but not to your loafing self.

"You too as well, Y/N. Try not to read your manga or watch anime from your phone while waiting for your Grab." she worriedly reminded you, nudging you on the corner with her elbow.

You've given her a look, shrewd enough to guess that you weren't going to listen. "I'll try. But I wouldn't promise."

"Curses might lurk around!" Angie added as a matter of fact in the middle of rummaging through her bag, in search of her wallet and planning to stop by the convenience store just around the corner of their street.

Curses. You've given yourself a giggle, the only curse you've received was from people who hated you or even just probably the slip of other people's tongues whenever they've gotten you involved in such accidents that can be considered normal.

"The only curse I can receive is probably a 'Damn you' or 'Shit yourself' when I bump into people, Angie!"

She gave a nonchalant shrug, laughing herself off as she tried to entertain you into waiting for your Grab driver to arrive which should've been by now. But, he was taking too long to show up.

"You may never know when to meet some kind of Mahito or Pseudo-Geto out there!"

"Funny. Robbers and Murderers are the real scary shit you can meet here." you've taken a pause, cocking your head to the side as you pondered for a little while, staring at the skies. It was definitely evening, the dead of the night as the stars weren't lucent as it ever been since the past few days. The stars were acting as a paragon to your fate, gradually being deficient since you've suddenly hit that phase in your life where everything felt like a void bound for replenish.

"Go find me a Suguru Geto then," you've immediately cut those train of thoughts from the beginning of your stirred up anxiety and pressures in life, "Losing hope in finding a white haired man with dazzling galaxy blue eyes, eh? Long, Japanese, black haired men are more realistic, correct?"

Your smile fell at the mention of that, instantly wanting to rip a part of her hair to cease her wisecracks, "Stop shoving it on my face that 2D fictional men aren't real, Angie."

She'd given you a pat on your back while she fixed the straps of her bag, planning to finally take her flight and actually head home, "There's no need to cry for now. I'm finding you a cosplayer!"

"Whatever! Take care! We're going to Japan soon!"

Angie turned her heels, back shown to you as she snapped her hips from left to right, dramatically doing so with a wave of her hand in the air, "Liar! Our passport's expired right now! Go fix yours first and let's go on a vacation!"

You've shook your head with a smile, watching her head home and turning around a corner, leisurely being swallowed by the silhouette of her shadows in the middle of a town you've finally become accustomed with from the first time that Chomp for Sweets has ever been built.

Was it a daily habit? How staring out of nowhere became your new-normal. You were blanking out, trying hard and refusing to be imagining that you were in a different timeline, dimension or space. Definitely, daydreaming about living in a certain world where Sorcery Fights isn't healthy because you knew you would be dead in an instant if you were born or teleported with no abilities for defense.

Unless, you had the strongest sorcerer with you around and he keeps you safe. But, you also did not want him aiding to your defense at all times, it would be plain torture for you, especially to such man. Besides, he wouldn't even dare. Plus, the menace would probably do everything he can to annoy the heck out of you and let you leave his side, constantly asking why you were even living in their world when you were a useless woman to everyone around especially Jujutsu Sorcerers.

You probably just weren't worth to be protected nor were you privileged enough for it.

Kasumi Miwa would probably understand you because of how she called herself useless. Though, there was no doubt that she entirely wasn't and you were the most useless out of all knowing that you would possess nothing but a breathing technique.

Such breathing technique where you could hold your breath for seconds before you're in the midst of panicking for your stupidity because humans needed to actually breath oxygen.

You've grabbed your phone from your pocket, turning on your lock screen using your fingerprint sensor, looking left and right for any robbers who plan to steal your gadget out of your hands.

"Sir, how many minutes would it take for you to arrive?"  Sent 10:01 PM.

"I apologize for the wait, Ma'am. Traffic is delaying everything. Please hold on." Seen at 10:02PM.

"It's fine. What's your car and exact plate number---"

Being in the middle of typing a message, your JJK manga on your other hand. You've sworn you've heard such gut-wrenching sound that was enough to spout the nastiest blasphemy of your mother tongue that was bound for the heavens to begin their walk of shame from how your inner thoughts begun to sputter but your mouth refused to speak out loud.

It was the sound of paper being torn apart. You just knew that a piece of your manga has been ripped into a single piece when you've realized and raised the hand that was holding onto your manga. Never believing it at first, In denial of the truth as you were tightly closing your eyes---trying to convince yourself that it wasn't happening. Howbeit, after opening your eyes into saucers of hell, this manga robber was in for a chase when you've seen that you were left with two manga panels. Drawn within the panels left only one particular man which triggered your outcry. First would be one of Gojo Satoru's past arc and the other was from the present. Shibuya arc to be precise.

The manga panels left to you was strange, considering how you were probably holding your book in between the Shibuya Arc incident, yet it left a part where it didn't even had the chapter of Gojo's past because it was the wrong manga volume.

Did the robber seriously exchange a torn paper of Gojo's pretty face for one manga volume? you thought in between disbelief and anger. Entirely dubious that this thief even thought you had no print out of this certain panel where Gojo was looking awfully sightly?

"My manga! You should've taken my phone not my manga you idiot!"

There were lots to be honest. You had them pasted on the walls of your room.

It was probably the audacity of this thief which pushed your cynicism away, running away for your life. Impulsive as everybody would try to judge, but it was as if your feet caught the best of you and next thing you knew, it was heading towards the robber who seemed to take the right turn around a corner. Proceeding to run through a shortcut to pass the highways.

This thief was a fool to choose the highways because there were probably people walking around and you could immediately cry for help.

"Oh no you don't! Y-You ruined a piece of chapter for me!" you weren't no Yuji Itadori where you could run for miles in just minutes, nor had Divine Dogs to use for help, cursed tools or innate techniques that would help you capture this mugger.

You did not live in a world where having such abilities existed.

"What the heck---! It even has my Gojo Satoru in it!" you've caterwauled with no remorse, screaming at the top of your lungs. With it also being as a way to bellow your traumas and miseries in life---it acted like a route to lessen your distress with the world you have been questioning. A definite outcry you've ever want to experience. Screaming, that is. "You're leaving me with only a manga panel of him?!" another nonsense spout of clamors from your side. The manga thief stopped at full tilt on the other side of the pavement, leaving you with nothing but the back of his or her black hooded jacket in view.

"Give it back!"

The robber turned at full view. A penumbra of good and evil mixed together like it was bound to be varied into a balance of catastrophe to ruin more than what fate planned for you. The moon did not seem to shine like it was supposed to just as how the stars appeared in the night sky. The moon and stars amalgamated into the caliginous sky, how the contours of this thief created light and iniquity, a phantom of your dreams and hell together as one from the moment it spoke.

An incognito. Faceless. Anonymous. The demarcation of his or her identity, a cloud of umbra that was planned to act as if the unknown.

He held onto your manga with his right hand as you stood on the middle of the pedestrian lane, hearing no cars nor honks of trucks wanting you to move away, showing you the cover of your manga as the moon shone brightly, accentuating the cause of this accident as a foreground of another ill-fate chalked out for you to prepare and experience.

"You will live a life just like how the others did." the faceless man spoke, grumbling and cavernous which was enough to give you goosebumps everywhere. He fished his gloved hand out of his other pocket, it was also Stygian just as how he was dressed. yet designed with coruscating stones of white, purple, yellow, red and sky blue on its knuckles like a gauntlet of an antagonist in one of Marvel's universe. "---and it will always be preordained." he continued to talk as you were ceased from doing anything but stare at him in return, like this was a fate ought to undertake.

"Hate yourself more, and more negativity will hail even on the other side,"

"What---" you were cut off as you couldn't move a step, trying your hardest to free yourself from the crazed man who were speaking gibberish assumptions on things. How it went from stealing your manga into being dragged by his mania left you looking like a dum-dum. You should've just left your obsession to his hands and just bought a new one. He was probably more than just an obsessed Jujutsu Kaisen fan. Another one of your inner thoughts added as a matter of fact whilst getting overwrought by his whim of foolish senses.

He raised his gloved hands, his palms opened towards you like he planned to blast you off. His hand begun to emit such excruciating luminosity which made you tightly shut your eyes, covering yourself with your own arms to keep yourself from being blinded.

Despite of your eyes shut off, you could entirely hear the horns of a large freight truck that seemed to rush towards your side of the road. Of course, vehicles would pass by a woman who stood stupidly in the middle of a highway. The honks begun to blare violently, loud enough for you to ask yourself...

Was this death?

The termination of a life that started to drain you slowly?

Or was this the start of another?

"He remembers the other you. Your physical aspects. But, quite idiotic enough not to know the differences of your souls." the mixture of his voice with the noise of the city, an amalgam of fear, uncertainty and affliction.  "---But, you will still leave him more than just battle-scars, pain and trauma."

It grew reverberant. Time stood still just like how you were as stiff as a statue, asking yourself if this was the destiny you finally deserved for all your reckless choices.

"Just like how all of them did because of your own thoughtless wishes,"

With one final blow and second in this life you were in meant for another to begin. However, the differences were is that you weren't reincarnated. The trumpet call of death started as the vehicle never raced to a stop. You knew your demise was pursuing you in a flash.

You were bound to become bootless in a world that wasn't meant for you, nugatory to no avail and probably the person shedding a tear or two to a life that would bring you distress.

Or so you thought?

"Clandestine: Alternate Universe. 7th Dimension, Open."

Y'all ready to live in Jujutsu Kaisen with your normal self? Will Satoru throw you in the middle of the ocean because of your useless, thoroughly simping ass? we may never know what will happen especially of the possibility that you have an idea on what actually happens to every character in their world. But, will he protect you though? Heehee!

Reminders: You might be confused as to why this faceless guy is probably pertaining as to why Gojo Satoru would have the tendency to recognize your face. Please do read the important note before this chapter along with the synopsis to understand further. Heehee. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me as long as it's possible that I can answer them without spoiling you for the chapters ahead.

The visualization was beyond giving you neuralgia. Albeit, Satoru's visuals---which has been prepossessing since the moment you've recalled the concept of him without his mask on was undeniably delightful to wake up to, it wasn't sufficient if it meant that he had to menacingly set an alarm on exactly four in the damned morning and at full volume, trying to get you to rise-and-shine with a blue sticky note to your forehead.

Four in the freakin' morning.

You bet the odds that not even his students were awake at this particular time of the day where the sun wasn't even shining yet.

With the sticky note on hand, a deep scowl to your face, you've brought yourself to the side of the bed. The glossy forest wood planks in a chorus of brown, it's varnish trapping along the moisture of the wood has been brisk beneath the soles of your feet as you've given the room a once over.

Satoru wouldn't have used his abilities to warp inside your room and scribble such a messy alphabet in Roman style as if it has been forcefully copied letter by letter from Google Translate, right?

You were skeptical over the entire idea. Yet, deep down, it felt like he was bound to be that type of guy especially when one of his abilities had the benefit of teleporting or warping from one place and to the other. For the most part, he obviously would because you were currently shoved towards the teacher's dormitory. Postulating over the expanse of what the room appeared to have, it was technically a lot wider and spacious with a hint of a bachelor's sense of interior design, you guesstimated that this was Satoru's dormitory room.

Besides, the distinct scent of perfume; how Musk and Sandalwood wafted through your nose, you knew it was his from the moment you've stepped foot inside the area. Also, you were manhandled by the man himself, shoving you inside his room before you could even react as he bid his goodbye.

Where was he going to sleep then? Well, he sure did look like he was one of the minted. A person who had the privilege in calling the shots. With over how he had requested for a private plane with just one call away? he probably had that type of wealthy prerogative. You've pursed your lips at that, musing on the thought. Might as well admit that Satoru was rolling in the riches then.

Hence, the note that has been written in a tortuous duplication of the roman alphabet scribbled with black ink tells you that he belonged in the affluent society in their dimension after reading through the lines, comprehending that this proposal had a prize or treat included which lightened up the cranky mood that you were tailoring at the present time.

"Tiny-Chan's Mind Training with Satoru: 'Create anything sweet for the 'Great Gojo'

This will be graded. Prizes may vary. 10/10 rating will be rewarded with a Shopping Spree funded by the Strongest. Hehehe. >:)"

You have been ignoble over your own skills in terms of the culinary or baking side. Despite of the profession you had been in; the concept of having your business over it. This has still been one of your study and tentation. A hit or miss moments or the R and D whenever you encounter something new; something that was far beyond the customary.

Satoru had not mentioned any specifics towards what type of sweetmeat he wanted. However, you've reckoned he would want something of the Japanese cuisines in which he probably have been familiar with.

You might as well add a dash of your own favorite tastes and concoct something out of the blue with whatever ingredients were to be seen in a kitchen that you know would be difficult to find in a broad place within the school you were in. The problem with Tokyo Jujutsu High was that there has not been a lot of people to be seen nor were you introduced to yet.

How you've been shoved inside Satoru's room by the man himself felt like he was trying to keep you hidden as possible despite the chances of meeting another person within the area was a ten out of hundred from the lack of people or staff that inhabited the area.

Though, you were rest-assured someone had owned the room beside yours because you remembered someone kicking on your doors and hollering out Satoru's surname behind the locked hatch.

You obviously were sleeping like a log to even bother and give her your acknowledgement. First and foremost, you never comprehended the Japanese language unless it was Satoru who was talking. The world made it seem like you had no other choice but to communicate and live through him.

Damn it.

After at least a minute of trying to break down the doors in the least, quietest way as possible, this person left with unfathomable phrases of Nihongo that led you to pulling the duvet over your head a lot more than you ever did.

You had the sticky note on your hand, your eyes squinted so hard because of how your perspective was still blurry from the abnormally early rouse. With eyes that hinted a little of corin pigmented morning glory, you've prodded them off with the back of your fingers as an unalluring yawn left your mouth, drowsily murmuring beneath your breath, "This isn't mind training. He just wanted me to make something for him. Ah, this guy and his addiction for sweets...really,"

Cookies and Cream Mochi Ice Cream.

In all likelihood, that irresolute feeling inside of you says that this was an atrocious concoction for a mochi flavor. It was an unusual choice rather than the threadbare ones; chocolate and vanilla being the first of your selections. Second would've been strawberry and red bean. Be that as it may, you've still chosen an option that left you ambivalent nor where you confident enough for it to taste ideal for everyone as this has been the first time you've tried to produce such a dessert.

You've tightly sealed the tupperware with its locks that clicked from the sides. Those were the last batch---the extras that came from the excess ingredients that weren't bound to be kept as it would lessen the quality and freshness of the dish. You decided that it was best to just hand the last batch of mochi ice cream to Satoru's students or to whoever wanted it. You've estimated to have at least only two batches of them. Surprisingly, there has been another which consisted another dozen pieces of it. Three batches that had different colorants but held the same flavors for all. Red, Purple and White.

The kitchen island were in a heap of rice-flour, used glass bowls and other scullery paraphernalia that aided you through the cooking. Tokyo Jujutsu High and the tranquility it offered kept you in a fazed consolation over being on one's Jack Jones. Was it the fact that there weren't a lot of people nor staff that paraded along the institution regardless of how tremendous the school appeared to be?

Or was it because you were used to playing your set of song playlist whenever you were strenuously engrossed every time you were cooking dishes. Somehow, you were aggravated over the fact that your phone---the one that has been constantly in Satoru's pockets and were being kept detained because of a question that you couldn't grasp an answer to---weren't with you as he was utterly obtrusive that you had your passcode saved using his exact birthdate.

You had no idea over what day or month his birthday even was. The guy was probably just an egomaniac to assume that you were bewitched of him enough to have it used as a password.

But, were you not? Entirely bewitched by Satoru's pulchritudinous charm and enchantment?

His eyes were the Ethers; the bluest of blue---celestial Arctic blue that could define the islands of the Blessed. Satoru's beauty could beckon an ailing saint, reinvigorate your flawed soul that traipsed along the crippled path towards Siberia. The shattered utopias that pooled inside those eyes of his---you've foolishly shook your head, mentally eradicating those descriptive thoughts which always kept your heart on tenterhooks. Your mouth were kept in a tight thin line as you've pulled the freezer to the institute's French-door refrigerator, the heartbeat of yours increasing from the sudden outrage you have been feeling. Satoru had been a plague, the COVID-19 to humanity's 2020 back in your dimension.

Hence, even in his world, COVID-19 hadn't been entirely eradicated after all. You doubt he was bound to be exterminated when he was utterly self assertive that he was of person described by everyone as someone who was 'invincible'.

It was impossible to believe so because in your perspective, he was an utter man-child.

Either that, you weren't just given the unabridged sight of what he was absolutely capable of because everybody---including the authoritarians seemed to be like he had them wrapped around his fingers in spite of how they abhorred him for a complex personality and potential that they couldn't keep a tight rein on.

Abhorred. You wouldn't get to the point of describing Satoru that way when he was out with you, trying to offer a lending hand over how to bring you back to your dimension. Though, his proposals had a price---a cost that you surely couldn't put two and two together yet because his assistance were nonsensical to aid such amnesia---you might as well just comply to what he wanted. Although, it mostly has been off the subject.

"Tiny-Chan! Yoohoo!"

Speak of the handsome devil.

You've closed the bottom freezer with your black and white converse that has been besmirched in turf and grunge, even with dried up ichor as well. Your whole being went stiff upon hearing his silvery voice echo around the kitchen, the sobriquet that left his lips sounded jocular more than ever as if he had been chanting the epithet while he was tracking you down. There was this sudden need to clear your throat, your eyes momentarily fluttering close as if to ruminate over how your mind instantly went blank for a second from his unforeseen arrival.

Straightaway, at that exact moment, you knew that his existence was meant to beset your stray soul that wandered upon a dimension which was not meant for you to promenade in.

Without even sparing him a glance, you've unfastened the knot of the strawberry designed apron around you. His heavy, faint footfalls progressed louder, signaling you that he was coming nearby.

You had no idea but you were---indeed, panicking.

Satoru took a second from the figure that stood before the refrigerator, wondering along the hatch as he merrily peeked through the edge of the door with a beam on his face. The moment it fell was when the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer couldn't get the drift of who exactly has been cooking that he had felt the need to verify by scrutinizing you beneath his sunglasses, getting an absolute detail and a definite clearer view without the shroud of his calignous, arrant sunglasses which wasn't as nifty as the normal ones that ordinary people wear.

Well, he wasn't bound to be defined as someone who was normal nor ordinary anyways.

"Eh? You're wearing my uniform?" Gojo was inquisitive as he welcomed himself all the way in as the latter spotted you on the corner, straining to stand on your tippy-toes with your grubby apron.

The effigy of you bedizened in a uniform he had been donning since the day he had it specially customized, his midnight blue parka that ended right just below your knee. An unmistakably declaration that his customary clothing were downright a mammoth next to a kitty---as clear as day, Satoru's garment was clearly vast for your poky height. The sleeves of his jacket felt like it had been an utter hassle as you've been struggling to yank them over your arm because of how it had been over the length that even the fabric that went along his neckline have been made to cover up your entire mouth as if you were one Jujutsu Sorcerer who had some type of cursed speech technique just like Inumaki Toge.

He couldn't grasp at the sensibilities but this went over his system like how Cabernet tasted best chambré; how his coffee had to have at least an additional spoonful of sugar and how he was always in a quandary over choosing what was superior for his palates, would it be chocolate butternut or red velvet?

It was the kind of a mare's nest. Labyrinthine intimation of a discovery that pervaded the desolated garth with tepid sunbeams and binding, eager roses wading its way along the terra firma, neglectful over the barbs that came with it.

Satoru felt like this was an aberrant sensibility that required a doughty explanation. However, it made it seem like it was better unrefuted.

You were heedless over how his broad smile turned nominal, his beam never showing the pearly whites, you've deadpanned. Though, your sentences still felt like it was dancing along the words because of how you claimed, speaking tongue-in-cheek, "Because I had to shower and these were the only clothing you left in that closet of yours. It seemed quite intentional. Don't you think?"

Gojo had his hands inside his pockets as he paved his way, utterly curious over what you had cooked or concocted for him, nearing in as he paused alongside you, leaning beside the kitchen counter as he basically loomed before your height. It was thoroughly evident over how towering he was compared to yours that he had to peer down and be engulfed by his shadows.

"It wasn't! I had a lot of extra pairs! I hardly use the dormitory anymore the past few months,"

Finally, having the willpower to acknowledge his presence, you've turned your head to be met by his clothed chest. Life was unfair, really. How the simplest clothing that Satoru wore could leave every woman breathless and drowning in his enchantments. You've given him a once over, scanning him from toes to head---the opposite of people's daily habit---heedful that it was a deliberate act from your side because of how skeptical you were over what he had to wear for his head clothing. Was it the blindfolds or sunglasses?

To keep your heart steady before it could even be the only sound you were bound to be distracted with aside from Satoru's presence, you've noted how he was garbed with plain black jeans, a plain white shirt partnered with a lavish, sable leather jacket that glorified his broad shoulders and---

---his sunglasses. The difference today was that he was wearing the circle ones you were adamant of him to wear, those particular specs that you've spurned him to think that it was better than the current ones he had.

What antagonized you even more was that Satoru had an amicable smile on his face, dithering the image with the winsome crinkle of his eyes. You could clearly tell that this was poles apart to those skittish grins he always shared with you, the mischievous beams that would tell that it was no good to the society.

Your responses were sprightly. An apparent, involuntary response that has gotten you throwing the refrigerators wide open, feigning an act that you had something to grab onto from the fridge when it has just been your reckless reflexes to avoid the want to scream and the simmering heat traveling from your neck towards your face.

The frigid puff of breeze shot you in the face, peering real hard in search for nothing inside. You've heard Satoru emit a low hum of inquiry, the large refrigerator door seeming to be a baricade between you both since you've forcefully tugged them open. Perhaps, he wondered why you had to cover his view with the institute's steel refrigerator door.

You were savvy that he was profoundly indecipherable over your native language. Hence, this was the only---the lone convenience that you could use against him. A damned benighted trump card that he would probably loathe for or hank to overhear in venereal matters that knocked behind closed doors the last time he heard you during a conversation.

"Really. You just had to wear that today. I know the man sketched on the paper is you. No need to call me out over how stupid I am,"

A random tattle in the midst of being in a spur of the moment. The sole babble that helped eased how his mere existence was throwing you off balanced. You've spoke to no one in particular and just yourself, the native phrase going straight from Satoru's ears and to the other.

"You sayin' somethin'?" Gojo pulled a face, taking a step to the side to peek through the refrigerators to see that you were staring at a basket of potatoes. Your weirdness making his head tilt quizzically. Though, the sudden shift of language sounded incomprehensive in his point of view. Satoru found it downright bewailing that he could not understand a thing nor could he do anything about it. Howbeit, to you; it was a win-win situation.

You were right. He was utterly clueless over every word that you had to utter another as you sighed and eventually huffed from the fish bone that was poking through your insides, "Yep. I'm lucky you have no idea over what I've been saying. Hah."

Once the cold pacified your flustered senses and everything was all hushed. The native pep-talks that has been spoken out loud---much to Gojo's utter dismay and displeasure, you've calmly breathed through your nose, gently closing the refrigerator door shut, intentionally walking over to the opposite side of where he stood, going past him without second doubts and managing to stroll towards the kitchen island that was cluttered with messy mochi ingredients.

To no use, Satoru was determined to be of nuisance and trailed along. Utmost resentful over his language deficiency from your mother-tongue. His nosiness heightening the displeasure that frowned his face, expressive enough that he had his mouth curled in a fit of pique. Satoru was not fond of the indignation. This was rather a thorn in one's flesh for him as he was notorious over being someone who knows and has the ability to do anything. Hence, he meant that he was not capable of achieving nothing.

Nevertheless, your precipitate need upon speaking a language that was incompetent for his knowledge stirred a palpable, vast annoyance within him.

You probably had pained his overflowing pride.

"Oi. That's not fair. I have no idea over what you're saying." Satoru's mouth twitched in vexation, shadowing behind like a child being neglected over such withheld attention.

Attention. He noticed---no, Satoru beheld that you were giving him the go-by. Thus, being aware of how you were turning a blind eye to his presence ruffled his feathers.

He had no idea but the way you've been looking the other way and have been disregarding his presence despite of paying attention to what he has been saying peeved the Jujutsu Sorcerer. Gojo was bothered as if he wanted your sole attention on him, alone.

"Can't you wear your blindfolds again?" you nasally asked, point-blank. Greatly bothered by how he was bringing himself right now---the clothes he wore from top to bottom, it felt like the entire test has not been about the 'cooking' after all. This felt like an assessment on how to keep yourself mollified and composed whenever he was around.

You've brushed the pooling sweat with the extended sleeves of Satoru's uniform you wore, grabbing onto the used glass bowls without acknowledging Satoru who kept trailing around you. He slithered alongside you. Now, leaning his hip along the mahogany kitchen island which was basically as tall as where your stomach goes.

"You're confusing me here--," He spoke rather forthright, crossing his long arms over his chest. Bending over to peer down at your face, scanning your expressions from beneath his sunglasses. Yet, his advances were futile as you basically turned to grab onto another set of used utensils, continuously ignoring to give him the heed that he somehow had been inexplicably pining for.

"---Aren't you the one telling me how uncomfortable you are whenever I wear it?"

You haven't noticed how he swallowed down his odd frustration over the whole ignorance. This flicker of such strange irritation were tucked away with a smicker, the end of his lip churning upward as he goaded, his reckoning for the wanted attention making him sound vain, "Unless, I actually make you feel...things whenever you see my eyes?" he sniggered, his smirk growing larger, snapping both his forefinger and middle one together right in front of your face.

"---Heh. Bet you are!"

You've turned your back to him, gradually being habituated over his wonted blustering arrogance over everything especially towards the part that he knew himself that he was downright gorgeous.

His grin have been eradicated, abruptly falling when you've shunned away from his antics over how he was trying to catch your attention. It was just an estimated of one to two days with Nanami Kento and you were already behaving like he had been whenever Satoru was around the guy.

You've gently dropped the soiled equipment on the sink, grumbling another set of your natal tongue beneath your breath. Your lips pressed tightly together towards the end of your sentence as you turned the faucet on, keeping the grubby kitchen equipment wet so you wouldn't have a difficult time when you begin washing them, "Even without it, you do give me that feeling."

"Ah! You're prohibited to speak your native language, Tiny-Chan! Unless, I say so!"

Satoru's irritation pricked him to the point that he had to brush his fingers along his draping, white luscious locks, grousing as he did so. The irk kicking him over and over again that he had to keep his cool by inserting his hands inside his pockets, trying to keep himself within his presence of mind.

This has never happened to him in a definite amount of time. It has been long since the moment he last felt that infuriation. In spite of that offbeat frustration, he couldn't believe how pathetic the reason was.

It was simply just wanting to have the attention of a non-sorcerer. Hence, this non-sorcerer was of a woman who was tiny, bloody-minded from the start and held strange references of quotes that existed in your dimension.

He'd basically ran to the fridge, omitting his vexation with a cheery attitude as he yanked the freezer open, humming out his excitement when he'd seen three different tupperwares that were tightly locked, "Where's my sweets?!"

You've spun around, noting that he was wholly bent over as you passed behind the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, his long legs spread before him like he was manspreading---a proprietary plaguy habit that he seemed to have manifested.

"Don't touch the white ones. They're newly made."

The ear piercing screech made your nose scrunch as you've pulled a bar stool and planted your ass straight on it. A volitional act to keep yourself at arm's length from Satoru as he was enthusiastically choosing which is which. Paying regard over his low, pleasing hums whenever he was distracted over particular things that kept him interested.

Satoru was eager to choose the blue one, bringing himself to his full height before he'd manage to shut the freezer close with the heel of his shoe, expressing his zealous tee-hees with the tupperware he held, striding to where you sat.

"Also, I'm no expert at making these stuff, but I tried, Satoru. It's far from what I normally sell back in...my shop," you've momentarily trailed off, the topic of your life back in your own world kept you in a faraway land that you've never noticed Gojo who tossed himself beside you with a haughty grin.

The sniggering, white haired sorcerer took the seat next to you. His own bar stool emitting a loud screech but he did not seem to care at all as he was swift enough to plop beside you, sliding the frozen tupperware between you both.

It was probably inevitable not to give heed to his presence. Would it be better to just stare over that particular crease in between a person's eyebrows? That had been a technique taught back in earth in regards to people who were rattled by staring into one's eyes. Howbeit, the approach had been abandoned when the apprehension diverted towards what you actually had created for him.

The mochi ice cream that you were timid of.

"I've made my own---Uhm, tried to create some Cookies and Cream flavored mochi ice cream," you began to stammer when you've suddenly heard the last click of the tupperware's lock pry open. Satoru was avid as he tossed the cover to the side. He was absorbed over the toothsome dessert that waited to be devoured. He was oblivious towards your attention that was now exclusively set for him. Without any second thought, his long, Herculean fingers began to just go for the kill before you've pulled them away.

Shit. You mentally cursed, never one to speak it out loud. You actually haven't gotten a bite out of one aside from Ijichi who'd manage to stumble upon the kitchen. The bothering issue was that the assistant director had limited knowledge over the language you could both understand to that he had not offered his feedbacks over the sweetmeat and just left without a word.

Though, he was smiling genuinely as he did so. That was a good sign right?

Or was he just feigning the disgusting taste of your mochis that he had to put on a smile for you?

"Wait!" you loudly exclaimed, keeping them out of Satoru's reach. His gaze has now met yours which made you swallow a big one out of the butterflies that started dancing inside your stomach, "---I-I actually haven't tasted them yet. Let me taste them first! I've had them refrigerated long enough for it to be frozen!"

The mochi ice cream was doughy in between your fingers, sweet dish baltic for the accurate texture to achieve the consistency that you wanted. Regardless of the quality, you were clueless over the taste.

You were actually panicking again, having the kittens over a timorous sweet dish you've chosen.

What a scatterbrain you've turned into, an utter damfool when this guy began to exist in your life.

Satoru's irreverence was meant to curb your jim-jams when he'd began to behave in his harebrained ploys. He raised a questioning brow, thoroughly being a pain in the ass while he'd dogged over your hesitance, his captivating gaze locking upon the target that were in between the tips of your fingers, "No can do! The Great Teacher Gojo gets to have the first taste!"

"H-Hey! You're just being gluttonous! That was my piece!"

You've felt your heart leap from his thoughtless movements. Your subconscious mind wanted to yell on top of your lungs when you've felt the soft, pillow of his lips graze along your fingertips, thoroughly asleep on the wheel over his impulsive actions. It felt remarkably supple---just like how it appeared to be downright promising, sheeny just as how his vermillion was giving the impression.

Nope. You weren't admiring how his lips come across as being since then. Nope, that quiet, timid voice whispered in the back of your head.

One of Gojo's cheeks were tumefied. Inchmeal, chewing the sweetmeat that filled half his mouth. The strange, taciturnity from the Jujutsu Sorcerer burning your anticipation to the point that it left you stammering and lost in your train of thoughts. His expressions were entirely noncommittal---never one to see him that way as the guy was clearly overdramatic whenever he reacts to anything.

"S-So? How is it? I know it probably lacks the taste or sweetness or something or whatever..." your fingers grabbed another piece of Mochi ice cream as you blabbered, the tiny shake of your fingers fanning the flames of your inner frets.

You were about to have a taste yourself when the latter had to race you to it again, just diving in and chomping the piece with his own mouth through your fingertips. Thank the heavens that his lip hadn't touched the skin of your fingers for the second time around because you weren't in a stable state of mind already. Howbeit, the juxtaposition he held out for you with his face close to yours had been sending the tingles across your skin, crawling through your heart as it fluttered like a maniac.

His sweet, minty, warm breath fanned across your face in a puff of air when he laughed. His mouth jammed with your home made sweet treat before he sat back on his chair.

"SERIOUSLY. Let me taste it! You're being selfish, Satoru!"

Gojo's mouth quirked at the corners, giving you a roguish one. Prior to his bereft of speech, he was quick to mantle them and kept the entirety of his bona-fide assessments over what you prepared for him. "Hehehe. Can't help it." Satoru spoke with his mouth full, attentive of the minimal commentary he'd managed to give.

You didn't need to know how piquant it was once the sugary, cold dessert passed through his palates; how it left his mouth avaricious for more. He knew this---no, your dexterity with desserts or pastries was guaranteed for his daily, disputed cravings that would eventually come by after today. Thus, this was enough to put your skills to blame because he knew it was an itching gluttony that no special 'kikufuku' could satiate him with.

It began to be his favorite. The first ever sweetmeat he'd tasted from you. Fast as one could judge, certainly a biased point of view from the latter. His taste buds determined to be a renegade for an expeditious patronizing chance. Certainly, this would be the kind where he would persistently yearn for every damn day; the sort that will bother the gluttony of malaise which were an entire inconvenience for Satoru if you were the sole person who could only soothe his sweet tooth.

"What's my grade then?" you've taken heed over how he was gradually chewing the food inside his mouth, abrupt inattentive of your way of catching his attention that you had to purse your lips, finding his reaction that this had been a failure in your part through the way he seemed too engrossed over swallowing what he was chewing.

It certainly tasted bad then.

Gojo was strangely tacit. He was never one to be this way---you believed he was. The latter had the expression that he was holding back his opinions. You were probably right. It tasted unpleasant and he was just forcing to consume them for you.

"Hey, Satoru." you repeated, mouth twisting in a tight frown from how he was treating you like a fly in the face and also never getting the reactions or commentary you wanted. This was probably how he felt when you tried ignoring him a while ago.

Much to your dismay, you've reached for the tossed cover of the tupperware on the middle of the kitchen island and at full pelt, planning to just close them off and cease whatever playacts he was playing.

Though, your heart flew out of your chest when Satoru abruptly yanked the earthenware out of arms reach, shifting around his seat with his broad, wide back away from you as he began to pig out on the sweetmeat as if he did not want to share.

Did he just turn his back away from you like a selfish child?

In all seriousness, the white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer actually did not want to share any piece with you because he wanted everything to himself.

Your eyes were popping out of your eye-sockets when you've noticed how he was hastily devouring them one by one, "Don't finish them all! The others are for Megumi, Yuji and Nobara!" You declared in worry for the possibility that he would basically finish the whole damn dish in just one sitting from how he was eagerly popping piece per piece with no cessation.

You tried to sneak your arm around him. Though, it was entirely futile from how he twirled his bar stool and used his towering stature to his advantage, covering the Ice Cream Mochis that were plated in front of him, "Who says I'm sharing these with them?---," he retaliated between bites, thoroughly immersed upon guzzling the dessert to sate his sweet cravings, "---These are mine. All mine. None for my students."

"You're being greedy."

Satoru heard you huffing from behind. He wasn't oblivious to your frolic ways of trying to snitch a piece of your own dessert that you've made for him. Without even realizing it, the Jujutsu Sorcerer had a wolfish grin etched to his face when you've began grumbling your twines like a pipsqueak.

"Write me something on a sticky-note," he suddenly asked in between bites---no, demanded was the correct word as a bunch of blue sticky notes and a multi-colored pen was now tossed to your way when you've begrudgingly marched your way back beside him, grouching over the fact that he wasn't sharing the food you've made for him.

It confused you.

Your hunches tell you that he was bluffing all the while he gorged upon the sweet dish like a child.

"Don't you know how to write?" you groused with your shoulders slouched, your knuckles over your chin as you were audibly trying to express your whines through the scowl on your face.

"I actually do. Have you seen my pretty handwriting on that sticky-note I stamped for you?"

"The sticky note you've plastered on my forehead while I was asleep? That one?---," you nasally snorted in a satirizing tone, snickering for the candid thoughts that passed by your mouth without even thinking twice. Unaware of your bald statement that sarcastically criticized Satoru, remembering how you were forced to wake up at four in the morning with a damned sticky note to your forehead, the reason why you were cantankerous at intervals.

"---Your handwriting looked like it has been dragged by the ass of a chicken and also been a bootleg copy from Google Translate,"

Satoru ceased from chewing onto the dessert after hearing that, his eyes widening from the frank choice of words as he grabbed another piece of Mochi ice cream in between his thick, calloused fingers, "You know, for a stubborn, ignorant, non-sorcerer who's in the midst of having an amnesia and actually pleads for my help to return to her sole dimension,---" a provoking pause. "---you're the only one---and when I say only one, the absolute one who has the guts to taunt the strongest and it doesn't help that you're pocket sized which makes everything funnier if you ask me."

He'd given you the side-eye, feigning a serious behavior to support the next sentence that would come out of his mouth as one that should be taken as a life or death situation. Gojo suppressed his need to smile when he'd seen the obvious grimace that twisted your mouth in a comical way, the incredulity earning another clamorous reaction from you that he finds entirely entertaining.

"You earn a minus, Tiny-Chan."

"Hey! That's unfair! You haven't even told me my grade yet! I've woken up at four in the morning when I'm not used to waking up that early because of that loud alarm you were intent on setting up!" you began to complain again, the shopping spree prize filling your thoughts when he'd pitch into the idea of giving you a minus despite of not actually knowing the earnest rating of your dessert yet.

He was probably joking. You thought to yourself, giving him a dirty look with tightly scrunched brows.

"Ah. Is that so? But, I see that you're out here being really determined to claim that reward you wanted---," another pause. "---You twine too much. Another minus from the Great Teacher Gojo, then."

Perhaps, he wasn't.

Satoru left it at that and tried hard to stifle his chuckles, cutting off the gaze he was giving you as he looked away. Heedless of how he was trying to intentionally brush you off, trying to act cool as a cucumber. Believe it or not, but the latter was aware of how you've pursed your lips in disdain, saddened over the fact that he was willfully turning a blind eye.

This triggered a grin for Satoru, lifting his lips as he deliberately popped another sweetmeat inside his mouth.

"Tch. I don't even know how to write your alphabets. You know this." you've went on with your cavils, begrudgingly grabbing onto the sticky note and ball-pen as you apathetically responded with a sigh.

Too engrossed over guessing what to write, Satoru had lickety-split pulled your bar stool closer to his side. Earning a cacophonous squeak out of you from his rash movements. The Jujutsu Sorcerer nescient of his spontaneous deeds as he was effervescent to spun around, his tactless maneuvers getting the best of him before he could even regard that he'd cudgel his brains out for this one from the moment you've fitted to a fare-thee-well in between his widely, spread legs, occluding the legroom he'd involuntary made for you.

An overwhelming staggering space that stiffened your entire figure. The disconcerting pummeling of your heart that wanted to bounce of your chest ringing inside your ears again as he went on by keeping you nestled. Satoru had given you enough precarious room to hear his quelled breathing and those low, breathy chuckles that slips out of his puckish sense of humor; his palpable warmth that your subconsciousness described as somewhat sheltering to the point that it manifested how it was an epitome for an ideal snuggling.

"That's the plan. You're writing it using the Roman one! Come on. You get extra incentives!" Satoru eagerly exclaimed, he was ignorant as ever for your rigid muscles, ceasing to function properly when he'd reacted to his own incautious reflexes.

The white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer leaned further to his side, extending his long limbs over the kitchen island with his knuckles topped below his chin while he nonchalantly instructed what was needed to be written.

"Gojo's Untouchable Mochi Ice Cream. That should do it."

He had been engrossed over thinking what was about to be written on the paper that he'd briefly took heed of how floored you seem to be like you were zapped by lightning. You were gawking with eyes that glinted of shine---were your eyes actually glistening in disorientation or the fact that you were also dumbfounded for his quirky exigency to have you nigh?

Satoru's sunglasses dangled along his tall nose-bridge, lowered in an amount that he had given you a lovely sight of those pair of Ethers; looking to be half-lidded. It was efficient enough to blow the gaff that the strongest knew you were caught in his mojo that he swiftly decided to make sheep's eyes at you, relishing in your sudden daydream. Ten to one, he was licking one's lips over the recognition.

"You gonna' write that down or just stare at my face until you realize how you're giving me the adorable heart eyes?"

Adorable. Did you hear that right?

You've forcibly blinked out of your reverie, disregarding the trance under coercion because of how you were caught red handed by the man himself, not wanting to relish in his toffee-nosed ridicules because you knew this woolgathering that you've somehow been knocked out with had him entirely involved in it.

Damn him. Damn Satoru and his charisma. You've breathed out an alleviated sigh, noting the quivers of your fingers when you've began writing it down for him as you bit along the inner part of your lips, the heebie-jeebies straining your nerves down in a trembling mess.

Trapped in your own frets, stutters and stupor, It was improvident of you to be divvy enough that Gojo had been derisory outstaring over the tiniest reactions or expressions you've been giving. The latter weighing up over shrouded, kept thoughts that felt anomalous.

"Wait. Let me add something." He simply stated, innocuous how you'd astonishingly kept him sidetracked when it never happens at all. That was strange. Satoru purposefully pulled himself out of his own cogitation, abruptly grabbing onto your own pen and paper as he scribbled and drawn shapes to his own, leaving you to your own stammers and train of thoughts when you've mumbled and eventually realized that he was being covetous for the dessert you've separated for the others as well.

"I-I've made at least an extra 2 dozen set of these. Spare them at least a bunch."

"Nope! Nah-uh. Not a chance. It's not happening. Gojo gets the extra 2 dozen. Satoru gets the bunch." the latter shook his head and emphasized as he was busily scrawling whatever he wanted on a vest pocket piece of paper in comparison to his large hands.

The paper were thrown pell-mell towards you, tossing them back whilst he clicked the pen and aimlessly twirled them around his fingers. His undivided attention shifting back to you when you've confoundedly responded with a tight crease between your brows, scrutinizing the paper on your hands.

"The heck is this?"

A sublime sketch of a circle and a furtive set of Japanese alphabets---that were downright incomprehensible for you---were drawn below your note. The illustration aligned in bullet form to keep it in one piece and not acquire another set of an extra sticky note.  Back in your dimension, these discoid depiction was a toy back in the 90's. For the children, this was best believed to be a kind of plaything which had a wide selection of colors ranging from red, yellow, blue and a whole lotta' more. This type of toy had its own premise by the minors that it reproduces on its own whenever it lived in water. However, if Google was to be used as a form of reference, this trinket was called Orbeez Balls. They were small, absorbent polymer beads made of acrylic acid, sodium hydroxide, and water.

Was Satoru threatening the person who would eat his special homemade Mochi ice cream by throwing Orbeez Balls on their faces?

"Cursed Technique Reversal: Red." His offhand way of elucidating to your confusion had you quizzically tilting your head to the side, your face warped in skepticism and oddity for whatever he was saying as you couldn't decipher a single thing over what he had planned for the victim whom would fall for his ruse.

"You gonna' throw them some Orbeez balls or something?"

Orbeez balls. Gojo knew what it was---finally, a reference that certainly came from your dimension in which he commended himself for, he knew he deserved a loud applause for it as the footnote tickled a snicker out of him. He'd pointed at the second bullet, describing you what the Japanese alphabet and drawings meant so you weren't lost in translation, "That's Hollow Technique: Purple. The white one will probably have some hand-to-hand combat with me,"

You were holding your horses. The furrows along your eyebrows deepening further from his explanation. He'd patiently waited for anything---any damned memory to flash before your eyes. To no avail, you still had no idea over the entirety of his abilities especially when you've persistently claimed how you've thought that he was relating his techniques over a childish toy.

"I understand the hand-to-hand combat. But, these circles...You probably actually meant to say, Orbeez balls?"

Gojo Satoru leaned closer, eyeing you over his sunglasses as the proximity had been much of a bother that it has given you a knee-jerk reaction of helplessly stumbling back in the slightest. That habit of his was extremely unacceptable for your fluttering heart.

"It's not what you're actually pertaining to."

In a matter of seconds, Satoru had even raised a finger as if he was trying to shush you from your jejune theories for an ability that everyone had wanted to evade him for. He wasn't aware of how your palms begin to sweat when he was starting to come to terms that your presence and sheathlike space between you both was rather homely---an incongruous comfort that he shut one's eye to.

His burly fingers was bound to touch your lip if you hadn't reveled in the impulsive rush of your nerves. Satoru was in between his train of thoughts when you've interrupted him due to the sudden rash decisions you've taken. It went as far as to goading his countable mochi ice cream that were left.

"Don't you worry! You wouldn't want me explaining it anyways. You're probably going to have a headache---Oi! They're mine! Don't touch them! Put that back!"

Gojo squinted his heavenly eyes behind his sunglasses, cautious for the minimal strength he was exerting whilst he ceased you halfway from popping the sweetmeat in your mouth. The latter had caught sight over the polarity of your hand sizes when he'd swiftly caught your wrist.

How impulsive can you be around Gojo Satoru?

"B-But, I MADE THESE! ME! I DID! I deserve a piece! Come on! Just one piece!" You've struggled here and there. A push and pull---well, it was rather a stoppage of your deliberate schemes. The goal was as pointless as a cat trying to walk on the opposite side of an escalator. The amount of strength you were using to stuff down your own cooking had been brimful already and Satoru wasn't even budging even in the slightest.

"And I'm paying everything for your shopping spree, Tiny-Chan!"

From his surprising proclamation over such---his sudden honesty that deserved a flip of your hair---you've taken an upbeat, dramatic pause. The ends of your lips churning in an assertive smile. The mental images running inside your head had been a twerking mess who was probably hitting the damned 'woah' for the notable achievement.

Your sweetmeat has been utmost noteworthy and impressive enough to have Satoru hushed and grinning to the sides because of the comical expression on your face when you began responding to his declaration.

"Oh." you impassively stated, sighing a loud one in relief as you quirked a poised brow back at him, clearing your throat to also calm the smites playing with your heart strings when you've heard Satoru expressing his wonted chortles that always leaves you lightheaded.

"These are all yours then, Satoru! Say ah!~"

Before the ink is dry on the page, you've raised the mushy mochi ice cream to his grinning mouth, catching him off-guard and anticipating this warm gesture a lot less because you had been quite uncomfortable to his presence since that moment he allowed you to see what hid behind his mask. You've offered the piece with an amiable smile---a lot too benign for Satoru's fancies of your rejoinders, the saccharine intonation of your voice over how you were trying to feed him your sweet-dish, caught him mentally stumbling over his own footing when he was hardly known for it to happen.

It was probably not the greatest idea to peer before you over his abnormally tinted Stygian sunglasses because he had distinguished everything as if you were cynosure to his six-eyes.

Through everything, Satoru meant every single execrated thing that had been bittersweet on the tips of his tongue. From the slapdash tousling of your hair which seemed to be from the constant swiping of sweat along your forehead due to his thick uniform; the supple muscles along the apple of your cheeks that has tenderly given him the eye-crinkles all the while and till the crumbs of gluttonous Japanese rice flour smudged along your forehead because of how you've pull out all the stops upon concocting a sweet-dish that Satoru bribed you with.

His six-eyes was obviously screwing him for this one as he casted the perception aside, masking his own toothy grin before he'd felt the disruptive iffy of weird fickleness consume him again---one that was not meant to be felt nor should be---as he'd consumed the mochi piece that hung along your fingers with his mouth at a gallop.

Straightaway, the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer pulled his own chair as if he had been singed, tugging you along the overlapping sleeves of his own uniform, benevolently dragging you out of the kitchen with him as you've loudly exclaimed another round of your bleats from how the dishes weren't even done cleaning yet.

The birth of Gojo Satoru was meant to alter the balance of their world. Perhaps, your existence that was considered outrè for all---lived to actually ameliorate his own.

All this constant feeding from them both...*Rolls around while I cry myself to sleep* TINY-CHAN YOU LUCKY BISH---🤬😭🤬😭 Also, this chapter made me hungry af.

He just wanted all the mochi ice cream to himself.

His long legs was spread widely enough to permeate nearly half of the back seat of Ijichi's car. Gojo was leaning his temple alongside the window, his crossed arms tightening against his chest while he gawped at the urban scenery outside, watching cars pass by. Nonetheless, his thoughts were merely on the mochi ice cream that has been laid a finger on.

The situation would've been worse---an unfortunate fate and probably an adverse circumstance which acquired dire consequences if this person had actually taken a piece---no. He'd be lenient for one. In consideration of who's which, under definite circumstances over the categories or classification of people he knew. Howbeit, if this particular person had finished an entire tupperware of your homemade mochis then Satoru was not to blame for his splenetic outbursts and reprisal that followed suit.

The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer stowed away the twitching nerve that kept prodding the side of his lip, making it seem as if he was wearing a simper.

"Ah, seriously." he'd spoke sotto voce, heedlessly thinking out loud but not enough for you to notice. You also seemed to be caught in your own reverie, absentmindedly admiring the view out of the window with an elbow over the car's arm handle.

Nevertheless, it may seem like it to Satoru, but to you---your perspective had been different because your overall attention had been on him that he was paying no heed to how you were struggling to keep it sane together. Those thorough blinks through the window's reflection, making an effort to actually take a shine over Japan's urban landscape and not on Tokyo Jujutsu High's imposing Atlas. It dawned on you again, that fluttering rattles that danced along your chest when you both had to enter the car and make it seem like sharing the same air with him would be too compelling yet again.

Around the clock, life has rather been unfair since the moment you have been born.

You were already acting fine and have been spending an amount of satirizing retaliations here and there throughout the time he had held over your extended sleeves---his extended sleeves that were an absolute size in opposite to whenever he wore them---and tagged you behind him like a leash he held as if you were his puppy till you finally reached Ijichi's awaiting car.

Everything has been splendid, your mind were at a stable rate until Satoru had laughed over how you've accidentally and foolishly slammed your head over the rim of Ijichi's opened car door, in virtue of his unanticipated large hands that clasped over your shoulders, blaming the Jujutsu Sorcerer's exhilaration over being your tour guide around Tokyo. You'd happen to be skewered by the gooseflesh that unfurled from the split second he'd valiantly touch you.

Needless to say, he wasn't beyond apologetic over that through verbal communication. Satoru had to emit a hearty chuckle once he'd went in after you. Though, the following gestures he'd given was in consequence to how you were behaving right now. Gojo just had to settle those tough, large, gritty palm of his over your head---the part where he'd accidentally been at fault over the gob that begun to swell, mussing your hair as a mean to lessen the soreness and discomfort.

A bewitchery conjuration that had forthwith effects because the aches and pains averted to the frizzles popping those bubbles that surrounded your heart.

Hence, the struggle was real for the most part because the man was determined over bugging you every second of the day he was around. He was making the impression of wanting to have your attention on him at all cost and probably wanted you to be in a tough tussle between your sanity and jurisdictions.

This was why you were seated a little bit too far from him. Moreover, he was also positioned---those damned legs of his outspread for you to give a wide berth to.

"Tiny-Chan," Gojo has given you the side eye from his own side of the window, eyeing your over his sunglasses with a purse of his lip. The latter noticing how you were scooted farthest away from him as if he had some sort of a contagious disease---yeah, he probably did because you couldn't seem to bring your restless jitters and mind into a halt.

"---You've been quiet."

He did not need to know you were also holding a breath. All the while, listening to his whispers when he was mumbling over those theories of his that his mochis had been 'touched'.

How did he even knew when he wasn't even there to begin with? was he just formulating a wild guess or was he just speculating random occurrences?

"You goin' through some sort of flashback again?" he enthusiastically inquired before a hum neighbored afterwards, bearing in mind that he was looking; taking a gander beside, "---Hm. Your nose isn't bleeding, though."

Satoru glanced over the thumb that you've began to purposelessly gnaw since the time you've entered Ijichi's car and scooted rather as if he was not the person you had fed a mochi to his mouth---as pleasant as that sounded, it had given him a hoot over the standpoint he had prior to that gestures.

Although, he knew it was just in a sense of nothing and that his six eyes were to blame---the weighty abilities riveted to an amount where it can be too much to handle at certain times.

Well, that was what he believed.

"It must've been your students or another one of your co-workers, I told you the leftover batches were for the ones who want it. I'm giving it to them." you've blatantly grumbled, not before breathing calmly through your nose as you shifted on your seat, still looking through the vast townscape of Tokyo which was now closing in.

Satoru had veered off on his side of the car, shifting his angle and turning his head to provide you his consummate attention. He disliked how you were kept to your own solitude and pondered over things he could not know of. The white-haired sorcerer had a yen for your frank retaliations, awkward references from your world that only you could fathom---the sanguine sarcasms even though you were wrong at all times.

"No. They're mine. I've already had them patented. You're the one who scribbled them for me---Gojo's untouchable ice cream mochis. It isn't difficult to understand."

The car was as spacious as to having the possibility of three to four people who could claim a space from the back seat. Nonetheless, Satoru plonked oneself as if he wanted to take at least two to three people's spaces. Was it a way to annoy you because of how it seemed like you were treating him as if he had some sort of illness or was he just built different?

Gojo shifted further, turning in an angle to raise an arm and kept it resting behind the car's head cushions. His own brawny fingers ceasing a thumb distance over your ear as he finally crossed his leg over the other. Albeit, he was now totally facing you. The way he strummed his digits over the cushions raised such awareness that you've felt your breath hitch for the sudden, new reposition.

You had to at least clear your throat better before responding back to him, eyes still focused on the window outside and none being given to the Jujutsu Sorcerer, "But, you've had me write it out. Obviously, they won't get to understand a thing unless one of them can read the roman alphabet."

The latter cocked his head to the side, pondering over the idea for a nanosecond, humming another before he admitted his thoughts out loud with a nod to himself, "But if my students ate them, I'll be lenient to be honest." his gaze were now averted to the ceiling, thoroughly giving it a second of thought before his blunt, nonchalance caught the best of his tongue, "---If it's Shoko, a piece wouldn't hurt then. Though, I doubt because that woman prefers alcohol over sweets. If it's Principal Yaga, he would instantly know they're mine. Nitta---oh, I have no idea if she does know, though. She probably doesn't."

Satoru had to take a pause for a more dramatic effect with malice aforethought as he had given the assistant director who was actually mentally sweating from the possibility that his name was bound to be said next because he had always been a person who would take other's name into account because of his erratic way of analyzing situations, "But, if it's Ijichi then, Unlimited Void."

The Strongest jujutsu Sorcerer had to audibly snap his fingers without even looking his way, igniting a sharp, perceptible tweet from a strung out Kiyotaka Ijichi who was driving with sweat that pooled around his forehead. You had to momentarily take your view away from the panorama outside from the sudden reaction you've heard from him because of how bizarre it sounded coming from him. Although, you've never understood what the assistant director uttered next until it has been timely translated over his phone that was giving you the welfare of having his words translated for you, Gojo's immediate response made it sound like Ijichi has chosen an answer that benefited Satoru's jesting heckles.

"I-I would pretty much prefer to be slapped on the face instead, Gojo-San."

"Good answer. I knew you would say that." He'd given Ijichi a big thumbs up from behind the seat, stirring more of his apprehension when Ijichi felt Satoru's hand just a hand away from behind him. The white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer went on with his flippant jibes, eyeing him from the car's rearview mirror, pulling more chains over his overwrought state as Ijichi gripped upon the stirring wheel a lot tighter than he ever did, "---But, what do you even take me for to do that, Ijichi."

Being one who was entirely accustomed to having the anxiety; being het up over certain things, you've scanned the assistant director's body gestures and verbal responses. He made it seem like he was jumpy over the fact of the matter that he somehow gotten a taste of his ice cream mochis without Satoru knowing because the assistant director had stumbled upon the kitchen by chance before Gojo even arrived.

What even was Unlimited Void that made Ijichi choose the option of being slapped rather than taking whatever kind of void that Gojo was pertaining to?

"Satoru," you've eventually called him out of his teasing, not wanting for the car to just crash over whatever obstacle would be possible for collision. One car accident was enough, you did not want to teleport in another dimension where monsters existed in a medieval world---you'd rather choose the urban one which had cursed-spirits and had a particular teacher who had all the likelihood to transport you back to where you came from, "---I can just make more, you don't have to be this---"

Having your defenses down for once, thanks to Ijichi's agitation over Gojo's interminable satirizing boffolas, Gojo had adjusted his position around the car. Keen enough for the seat to bounce when he'd avidly relocated closer, his folded knee touching your thigh when the latter had his body facing you. His thorough heed over the harum-scarum proposal that left your mouth. Satoru's face brightened, coaxing his pearly whites to dazzle as the corner of his eyes wrinkled in delight. Both of his palm stuck together when he'd lean his head to the side, discerning his proclivity for giving people an adjacent amount of space over their faces as he closely kept a beady eye on you.

"Hah! It's a success then. This plan---I knew it would work. I was just waiting for you to say that, Tiny-Chan. More home made sweets it is!"

You've tore your eyes from Satoru's triumphant expressions. Your mouth keeping a tight thin line as you've averted to regard Ijichi from the rearview mirror who seemed to have been scrutinizing your reactions as well. The assistant director was quick to focus back upon driving, concealing his sift with a nimble attempt of arranging his eyeglasses over his nose bridge.

You've taken it as a way to enshroud his febrile presentiments. Even so, it was actually Ijichi trying to figure out who you exactly are. After the talk that they had back with Shoko, the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer disclosed no other than the fact that you were a woman he would tend to under secretive circumstances. Such a prestigious privilege nippily granted for a non-sorcerer who was valueless to the eyes of everyone other than Gojo whose responses were entirely circumvent and casual for anyone to comprehend.

The Strongest---a person whom was detrimental and put upon the pedestal since the day he was born, the representation could either be a gnarly or serendipitous chance of the heavens giving you a second life to live upon earth.

Were you born under a lucky star or behind the eight ball?

Every single person who'd seen you and Gojo together wondered and struggled to keep a hold of any information that was of to be leaked or discovered because even through deep investigation; you were innominate no matter the further they've dived into. That being the case, Satoru stressed on the idiosyncratic providence of your existence on his hands, making it seem like this was his mission; like you were laid upon his undertaking.

---and what he says, goes. Nobody did want to intervene with him anyway unless it was the Higher Ups.

Ijichi squinted harder through his eyeglasses as he silently drove along the road. In regards to categorizing you as Satoru's occasional dalliances with women, a sporadic chance during the present course of time on grounds of being swarmed and immersed in whatever issues sprung in the society of Jujutsu nowadays unlike the time he had when he was younger---it was certainly ticked out of the list because Gojo surely was not the type to hide his flings around the school and even get to the point of associating them in it.

Howbeit, the assistant director knew it was inevitable that there would be no scuttlebutts. The principal was bound to know about this soon if you were wandering around Tokyo Jujutsu High freely like a child on a field trip and had no idea over who everyone was aside from knowing them about parts that seemed normal for a non-sorcerer.

"You're making Ijichi more nervous and uncomfortable with all your belittling conversations with him."

Perhaps, your cluelessness and peculiar existence could be worthwhile from how vigilant you were over his gestures and feelings.

"Eh, He's already used to it." Gojo nonchalantly deadpanned, crossing his arms against his chest as he briefly slanted his head over the cushions, his focal point still on you and never knowing what ran inside his head as he retained his idle rubbernecking, heedless of how he was aimlessly giving you the half-lidded eyes like he had something in his mind that was not ought to tell.

"I-I actually ate a piece of her ice cream mochi and it tasted amazing," Ijichi suddenly blurted out loud with a stammer, falling further in the driver seat when Satoru hastily lifted his head, At high-speed, he shifted his attention at him with a surprised intonation of disbelief.

"Really?"

You've strived to keep a straight face and have been boring holes upon Ijichi over the rearview mirror. His abrupt admission of honesty making you sigh out loud because you were actually trying to aid to his defense and just take Gojo's ridicules to your own spotlight so he wouldn't suffer from his nonsense squibbing during the whole ride.

"I actually forgot to compliment you for it, Tiny-San?" Ijichi sounded skeptical for the moniker he ended up using, the corner of his eyes turning into creases. He was genuine, an authentic smile which supported his divulgence over your cooking. It gradually came into terms for him that in one way or another, you were guaranteed to encounter him from time to time.

"Ijichi,"

The way that Satoru mentioned his name had been a mixture of sangfroid and an obscured chaff. Nonetheless, the assistant director recognized it as a harmless berate from the latter's perspective because of the low-adverb that meshed with his quips, "---It's Eigo-San or Y/N-San. Your choice." a pause. Ijichi could perceive how Gojo was giving him a deprecating glint of his eyes---one that has always kept him on edge whenever Satoru had his blindfolds off when he wanted. Those eyes that were outright empyreal but also gave people the potentiality of cowering before him like he was expectant of tyrannizing everyone who went his way.

The imprudent action kept the Jujutsu Sorcerer unaware that he kept Ijichi hushed to the side.

"The students call her Eigo-San, much to Yuji's own epithet." he blatantly added as a matter of fact, a straightforward declaration of a statement followed suit, "---No one's allowed to use the name Tiny-Chan or Tiny-San other than me. Remember that."

Oh, poor Ijichi. You were speechless when he began to tightly shut his lip over that. The poor guy was just dear enough to offer his feedback, though it has already been late and his impulsive choice for choosing such a wrong time had retaliated back like a boomerang.

"They can call me whatever they want unless it's actually offending." you've firmly admonished Gojo who was pursing his lip back to you with a squint of his eyes, the insouciance dancing through the glints as he was humming a tune inside his head, still poking fun on Ijichi's worriment.

"Would you even understand if it's offending already when you actually have no idea to what they say at all?" Satoru opines with characteristic trenchancy, pursing his lip here and there like a gesture which says that he was jeering at your sudden lambasting.

You've fought the urge to concur with his sarcastic sagacity. It was half true because he was the only one---though, not in an obligated matter to translate or interpret the words of his denizens for you to fathom,  "But, are you always this rude to him?"

"Come on, he's been accustomed to my habits already. Right, Ijichi?" Satoru stressed on, dragging the end of his words with a playful slur.

"Also, IJICHI---" You've somehow gotten to get in between the Jujutsu Sorcerer's question upon emphasizing and calling out the assistant director's name like a chastise that was ready to be appointed. It was a loud call that you were heedless of. You were in thorough incredulity that he hadn't got the gist that you were widening your eyes and not blinking through your point of view, thinking he got the idea that you were beginning to sacrifice your own collywobbles regardless of how Gojo kept your heart at bay.

Ijichi had been oblivious to that as his focal point was on Gojo's veiled light admonishing.

You and Satoru were eyeing him from the rearview mirror.

"H-Hai! Hai, Eigo-San---Gojo-San!" Ijichi went stiff, exclaiming his responses with a thorough stumbling of his words when he'd taken a glimpse of you both who scrutinized him from behind.

The assistant director was in another fit of nerves, constantly glancing through the mirror.

Satoru was grinning from ear to ear upon the exaggerated acknowledgement. Ijichi's passengers who seemed to be trying to gain his attention apart from keeping his eyes on the road, "See! Now, you made him anxious enough even by starting a conversation with me as well." he'd felt you glaring from the side, making him hum as if he was not to blame.

"I thought you were going on with the flow, Ijichi. I understood your phone translator a lot. I was speaking to you through my eyes. Can't you see?" you've pointed to your face with your forefinger, expressing how you were trying to give him the non-verbal comprehension that you were trying to take his side.

Ijichi's features seem to be like he wanted everything to be over with. He seemed to be dejected from how his eyes loomed over upon the steering wheel as he shifted on the drivers seat, keeping his mouth in a tight zip lock until the moment you've eventually gave an amiable beam through the mirrors, appreciating his evaluation unlike Satoru who were not one to give approbation through an honest-to-goodness set of locutions.

"But, thank you though. You're thoughtful and sweet."

Or Gojo had just been messing around with you when you were dying to know his actual assessments over your delicious baking.

"When did he actually?" he'd minimally moved his head, giving you the side-eye as he was thoroughly intrigued.

"He had somehow stumbled upon the kitchen in the right time." you've given Ijichi another smile to lessen his worries. The assistant director acknowledged your gratefulness through a firm bow of his head and gave a tight lipped smile, slowly but surely having his own apprehension relieved from the purposive plan of diversion.

Yet, it begun again as Ijichi was filled to the height of his own languor, the lassitude building up more than it ever could when Satoru began to held onto his chest dramatically like he had been shot to the heart, "Ah. The audacity! Here I thought, I have been the first!"

"Ijichi." Gojo has been on the double when he leaned over behind the driver seat, peeking alongside the face of the assistant director as the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer was thoroughly inane to antagonize him further, bringing his goodly, staunch hand to his side of his face as if he prepared to give him a thwack. Though, in all honesty, he was just feigning the act and messing around, "---A slap from me wouldn't hurt. I guess,"

You've heard Kiyotaka emit another discernable shriek from Gojo's narks which made you exhale a long sigh that has been perceptible to both men. Without even uttering a word, you've pulled the menace from the hem of his extravagant leather jacket, exerting at least a prominent amount of effort into heaving a hundred and ninety centimeter man back to where he was seated which has been nearly beside you.

Gojo was melodramatic as he sprawled back, admitting to not give you space on the back seat of the car. His own legs slouched while it was cloth to cloth with you, making you grumble to your own frustrations and fluster because of the cramped leeway he was intentionally taking up.

"Ah, what a bore! You're no fun!"

He'd exclaimed, a smug smile tugging the ends of his lips from how you began to avoid his gazes again because of how he made it obvious that he was giving you his solid attention. The forged empyrean that was troublesome enough to watch you closely from your side as he deeply chuckle. Those subtle flusters of yours spreading like wildfire which has been bestowing upon Gojo Satoru's mushroomed condescension, making him slump further along the seat cushions as he scooted closer, terrorizing more of your lucidity and drafted to keep your ticker around the bend.