#kugisaki

My cute itafushi :((

The Tokyo Jujutsu High dormitories were usually a chaotic symphony of Yuji’s boisterous laughter and Nobara’s authoritative yelling about the latest fashion trends. But your room was a different world entirely. Tucked away at the end of the hall, it was a sanctuary of soft lighting, the scent of old paper, and the rhythmic hum of lo-fi beats leaking from your headphones.

As the youngest and newest addition to the first-year squad, you had quickly become the "little sister" of the group. While the trio of Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara were out making headlines and causing headaches for the higher-ups, you were the quiet shadow—deadly in the field with your cursed technique, but a ghost within the school walls.

You were currently sprawled on your rug, a thick novel propped open, completely oblivious to the three faces pressed against the wood of your door.

"She’s been in there for six hours," Nobara whispered, her eyes narrowed in a mix of concern and tactical planning. "If she spends any more time with those books, she’s going to turn into one."

"Maybe she’s sleeping?" Yuji suggested, leaning his weight against the frame.

"She isn’t. I can hear the music," Megumi muttered, though he looked just as reluctant to leave you to your own devices.

"That’s it." Nobara straightened up, a devious glint in her eye. "Operation 'Get the Wallflower to Bloom' is a go. And by bloom, I mean we’re dragging her to the courtyard because Gojo-sensei is coming back from his mission, and we all know how she gets when he’s around."

"I don't think she gets any way," Megumi sighed, "She just gets quieter."

"Exactly!" Nobara pointed a finger at him. "The silent pining! It’s unbearable! We’re fixing this."

Inside, you finally closed your book, stretching your limbs. The silence of the room was heavy, and for a brief moment, you felt the itch in your heels. You checked the door—locked. You checked the window—shut. With a small, hesitant breath, you restarted the track on your phone. A sharp, upbeat tempo filled your ears.

You began to move. It wasn't the polished, aggressive dance of a professional, but something fluid and private. Your movements were precise, a secret language you only spoke when the world wasn't looking. You spun, your socks sliding across the hardwood, a small, genuine smile gracing your lips.

Thump.

You froze mid-turn.

"Y/N! Open up! We’re going to get crepes and you’re coming whether you like it or not!" Nobara’s voice boomed through the door.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. In a flash, you dove for your bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and grabbing the nearest book—which happened to be upside down.

"I'm... I'm tired!" you called out, your voice small and slightly breathless.

The door didn't just open; it was practically dismantled by Nobara’s sheer will. The trio spilled in. Behind them, leaning casually against the doorframe with that signature, infuriatingly handsome smirk, was Satoru.

"Tired?" Satoru’s voice was like velvet dipped in mischief. He tilted his head, his blindfold pointing directly at you. "Your cursed energy is spiking like you just ran a marathon, Y/N-chan. Is there a rogue spirit in your pillows, or were you just having too much fun without us?"

You felt the heat crawl up your neck, settling into your cheeks like a permanent stain. You didn't look at him. You never could look at him for more than three seconds. "Just... stretching."

"Liars don't get crepes," Nobara declared, grabbing your arm and hauling you out of bed. "Move it, kiddo. You’re the youngest, you don't get a vote."

As you were dragged past Satoru, you kept your head down, your hair falling over your face like a curtain. Just as you brushed past him, you felt a large, warm hand rest briefly on the top of your head. It wasn't the rough pat he gave Yuji or the mocking poke he gave Megumi. His palm lingered for a second, his thumb grazing your temple in a gesture so fleeting and tender it felt like a hallucination.

"Let’s go, everyone," he chirped, his voice returning to its usual boisterous tone. "Sensei is buying!"

________________________________________________________________

The mission briefing was supposed to be a serious affair. You were standing in the shadows of the training hall, a notebook in hand, trying to fade into the architecture. Satoru was at the front, leaning against a pillar, looking bored as Utahime stood beside him, lecturing the group about the upcoming joint exercise with the Kyoto school.

"And it is imperative," Utahime said, her voice sharp with irritation, "that you students maintain decorum. Satoru, are you even listening?"

"I’m listening, I’m listening!" Satoru chirped. He took a step closer to her, invading her personal space with the practiced ease of a professional pest. He leaned down, whispering something near her ear that made her face turn bright red with rage.

"Get away from me!" she snapped, shoving at his chest, though his Infinity, as always, made the gesture useless.

"Aw, Utahime, you're so cute when you're angry," he teased, his hand reaching out to playfully tug at one of her ribbons. He was grinning, his posture relaxed and intimate—or at least, that’s how it looked to you from across the room.

You felt a strange, cold sensation in your chest. It wasn't a spike of cursed energy; it was something much more human and much more painful. You knew he teased her because it was fun, and you knew Utahime couldn't stand him, but seeing him so... reachable... hurt. He was always a million miles away from you, even when he was standing right in front of you.

Your grip tightened on your notebook. You turned your gaze to the floor, the dull grey concrete suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the world.

"Is Y/N okay?" Yuji whispered to Nobara. "She looks like she’s about to manifest a domain just to hide in it."

Nobara glanced at you, then at Satoru, who was still leaning over a fuming Utahime. "He’s doing it on purpose. The man is a menace."

Satoru’s head suddenly turned. Even with the blindfold, you felt the weight of his gaze snap onto you. He went still for a fraction of a second, his hand dropping from Utahime’s ribbon. The playful air around him didn't vanish, but it shifted.

He straightened up, ignoring Utahime’s continued scolding. "Actually, I think that’s enough for today! Utahime-chan is getting a migraine, and I need to make sure my favorite student isn't falling asleep standing up."

He bypassed the trio and walked straight toward you. You tried to shrink back, but the wall was already behind you.

"Y/N-chan," he murmured, stopping just a few inches away. The scent of him—something clean, like ozone and expensive sugar—filled your senses. He reached out, his fingers catching a stray lock of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. His touch was light, but the heat of it burned. "You’ve been awfully quiet today. Even for you."

"I'm always quiet," you whispered, your heart performing a frantic tap dance in your chest.

"Hm. True." He leaned down, his face level with yours. "But you usually don't look like you’re trying to set Utahime on fire with your mind. It’s a scary look on such a sweet face."

Your eyes widened. He had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. He noticed everything. You looked away, your face flaming. "I don't... I wasn't..."

He let out a low, melodic chuckle. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. But maybe next time, just ask for the attention? I’m very generous."

He walked away before you could process the words, leaving you stunned and breathless against the cold stone wall.

________________________________________________________________

The school was quiet at midnight. You had retreated to the rooftop, hoping the cool air would settle the restlessness in your bones. You had your headphones on, the music turned up just loud enough to drown out your thoughts.

You weren't dancing tonight. You were just sitting on the edge, your legs dangling over the drop, watching the moonlight silver the trees of the surrounding forest.

A shadow fell over you. You didn't need to look up to know who it was. The air always felt different when he was near—thicker, more vibrant.

Satoru sat down beside you. He didn't say anything at first, which was rare for him. He had removed his blindfold, his crystalline eyes fixed on the horizon. In the moonlight, he looked less like a god and more like a man—tired, beautiful, and infinitely complex.

He reached over and took one of your earbuds out, placing it in his own ear. He listened for a moment to the soft, melancholic piano melody.

"This is sad," he commented, his voice devoid of its usual theatrics. "Why do you listen to things that make the heart ache, Y/N?"

"It doesn't make it ache," you said softly, gaining a rare spark of courage in the dark. "It just... acknowledges that it's there. The silence can be too loud sometimes."

Satoru turned his head to look at you. Without the blindfold, the intensity of his Six Eyes was overwhelming. You felt like he was reading every chapter of your life, every hidden thought, every unspoken fear.

"You’re a strange one," he whispered. "The others... they want to be seen. They want to be the strongest, the loudest. But you... you’re content in the shadows. You have so much power, yet you move like you’re afraid of breaking the world."

"I'm not afraid of breaking it," you said, looking at your hands. "I just don't want to leave a mess."

Satoru reached out, his hand covering yours. His palm was large, his skin smooth. He didn't pull away. He just held your hand there, on the cold concrete, anchoring you to the present.

"You couldn't leave a mess if you tried," he said. He squeezed your hand gently. "You’re the only thing in this place that feels... calm. Don't change that."

You stayed like that for a long time, two silhouettes against the moon, sharing a single song and a silence that finally didn't feel too loud.

________________________________________________________________

The "shipping" efforts of Yuji and Nobara had reached a fever pitch. It was Friday afternoon, and they had somehow convinced—read: coerced—you into helping them bake a "thank you" cake for the staff.

"Okay, Y/N, you take this tray to Gojo-sensei’s office," Nobara said, shoving a plate of suspiciously well-decorated cupcakes into your hands.

"Why me? Megumi is right there," you protested, looking at Megumi, who was trying to look invisible while washing dishes.

"Megumi has the personality of a damp rag today," Nobara dismissed. "Go. Now. And don't just leave it at the door. Make sure he eats one."

You walked down the hallway with the grace of someone heading to their execution. When you reached his office, the door was slightly ajar. You peered in, intending to just leave the plate and bolt.

Satoru was slumped in his chair, his head back, his blindfold pushed up onto his forehead. He looked exhausted. There were documents scattered across his desk, and the usual air of invincibility was replaced by a raw, human fatigue.

You hesitated. Your instinct was to run, but your heart stayed your feet. You stepped inside, moving as silently as a ghost. You placed the plate on the edge of the desk, but as you turned to leave, your sleeve caught on a stack of papers, sending them fluttering to the floor.

"Damn it," you hissed under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather them.

"Y/N?"

His voice was thick with sleep. You looked up to see him leaning over the desk, squinting down at you.

"I’m sorry," you stammered, gathering the papers frantically. "I didn't mean to wake you. Nobara sent cupcakes."

He watched you for a moment, his eyes tracking your nervous movements. He got up from his chair and walked around the desk, sinking down to the floor across from you.

"Forget the papers," he said, his voice low and raspy. He reached out, taking the crumpled sheets from your hands and tossing them aside.

He leaned in closer, his knees brushing yours. The space between you disappeared. He looked at you—really looked at you—with a gaze that felt like a physical weight.

"You’re always taking care of everyone else’s messes," he murmured. He reached out, his thumb brushing a stray bit of flour off your cheek. His touch lingered there, his hand cupping your jaw. "Who takes care of you, Y/N?"

You couldn't speak. Your throat was tight, your breath hitching. You were paralyzed by the proximity, by the way his thumb was tracing the line of your lower lip.

"I... I'm fine," you managed to whisper.

"You’re a terrible liar," he said, a small, tired smile touching his lips. He didn't move away. Instead, he leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. It wasn't a kiss, but it was more intimate than anything you had ever experienced.

"Stay here for a minute," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Just... stay."

You sat there on the floor of his office, surrounded by discarded paperwork and the scent of sugar, holding your breath as the strongest sorcerer in the world leaned on you for support.

________________________________________________________________

The aftermath of the training exercise had left everyone worn out. The sun was setting over the Tokyo High grounds, casting long, orange shadows across the grass. You were walking back to the dorms alone, your bag slung over your shoulder, when you saw him.

Satoru was standing by the gate, looking out at the road. He wasn't wearing his blindfold, just his dark sunglasses. When he saw you, he didn't wave or shout. He just waited.

As you approached, the air between you felt charged, heavy with the memory of the office, the rooftop, and every stolen glance.

"Yuji and Nobara are already at the dorms planning a celebration," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "They’re expecting you."

"Let them wait," Satoru said. He turned to face you, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked uncharacteristically serious. "Y/N. Come here."

You took a few steps until you were standing in front of him. The silence stretched, uncomfortable and profound.

"You're the youngest," he started, his voice quiet. "And you're quiet. And sometimes I think you think I don't see you. That I just see a student. Or a kid."

He took a step forward, closing the distance. He reached up, slowly sliding his sunglasses down his nose so his eyes could lock onto yours.

"I don't," he said. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of a mountain. "I see everything you do. I see the way you dance when you think no one is watching. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking back."

Your heart stopped. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. You felt a cold shock wash over you—the kind that comes when a secret you’ve buried in your soul is suddenly dragged into the light. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly stunned.

"Sensei..." your voice broke.

"I'm not asking for anything," he said quickly, his cocky persona flickering back for a second to mask the vulnerability in his own eyes. He reached out, his hand hovering near your waist before he settled for resting it on your shoulder. He pulled you a fraction closer—not quite an embrace, but an acknowledgement of a bond that had shifted. "I just... I wanted you to know that the silence goes both ways. I’m listening, too."

He let out a short, nervous breath—a sound you had never heard from him—and straightened his glasses.

"Now," he said, his voice regaining its usual playful lilt, though it was slightly strained. "Go catch up to the others before Nobara eats your share of the cake. I have some... things to think about."

You stood there, rooted to the spot, as he turned and walked toward the school buildings. You watched his retreating back, your hand going to your shoulder where his touch still burned. He hadn't said he loved you. He hadn't promised anything.

But he had seen you. And for the first time in your life, being seen didn't feel like something to fear. It felt like coming home.