Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea.

The whole thing seemed harmless enough. A high profile escort mission— nothing more, nothing less. Just meet the guest, escort them to Jujutsu Tech, and be done with it.

No life-or-death battle, no first-grade curse threatening to end his sixteen years of life.

Now that would be way out of his league.

‘Simple,’ his senpai—the infamous user of the Six-Eyes—had called it. 

The white haired menace had practically cornered him in his room yesterday, flashing that insufferable grin of his. He’d said all the right things, too: “An ‘unforgettable learning experience,” “a once in a lifetime opportunity,” and one that promised experience, recognition, and would ultimately serve as a gateway toward higher class missions.

If that wasn’t already convinving enough, the fat wad of cash that came with it had certainly sweetened the deal. 

In hindsight, Ijichi should have known better.

Because a mission assigned to Gojo Satoru was never, ever simple. 

The real culprit?

One very, very energetic blonde.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Some hours ago…

Japan’s busiest airport buzzed with endless noise, overhead anouncements crackled repeatedly over the intercom, their messages half-drowned beneath the hum of conversation and the hurried clatter of rolling luggage. 

Ijichi Kiyotaka stood among it all, back ramrod straight as he gripped a neatly printed sign with two hands. The boy had polished his shoes three times this morning and had even rehearsed his greeting to utmost perfection all of last night and early morning (much to his dorm neighbor, Nanami’s, annoyance).

This was a high-ranking figure he was meeting today—an important guest, the next in line to Kage. It was imperative that he represent both his school and profession in a good light, and he was adamant in making the perfect first impression.

Unsurprisingly, Gojo, in his ever-infuriating vagueness, had failed to provide any useful details about who he was picking up.

No age, no physical description—just the offhand remark that he should keep an eye out for “an old bag of bones.”

So, here he was. Waiting. Guessing. Sweating.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to look for (thanks again to Gojo for the mission debriefing, or rather, lack thereof), he was sure he’d be able to feel them somehow.

Important people had a way of making themselves known like that, right?

Except—no one seemed particularly important.

Ten minutes passed. 

Then fifteen.

Twenty.

Ijichi exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on the sign in his hands like it was the last thing tethering him to sanity. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and he pushed them up for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Scanning the ebb and flow of travelers with increasing anxiety— businessmen in sharp suits, vacationers hauling backpacks that looked heavier than their bodies, some blonde in the distance making a raucous at the ramen bar… 

None of them exuded the aura of a high-profile figure.

His palms were starting to sweat. Maybe he should call someone—Gojo? Absolutely not. Yaga-sensei, perhaps? But what would he even say? Hello, I was given an important assignment, but my superior is an absolute menace to society, so I was hoping—

CRASH.

A blur of orange and blonde slammed into him out of nowhere.

The world tilted. His sign went flying. His glasses were next. And worst of all—warm soup and noodles exploded in every direction, splattering not only on his pristine white button-up, but also the sign he’d so meticulously crafted.

It was a mess of broth, vegetables, and unfortunate misfortune.

"Wha—?!?"

His limbs flailed as gravity betrayed him, but before he could fully hit the floor, something—or someone—grabbed onto his shoulders in a tight grip, steadying him.

“Oh, crap!” The voice was light yet raspy, tinged with a casual surprise. “I totally just crashed into you, huh?”

Blinking wildly, Ijichi found himself face-to-face with the culprit.

The thing that had nearly flattened him was a person—more specifically, a girl. Bright sun-gold hair, tanned skinned, three distint whisker-like marks on each cheek. And those eyes, electric blue and far too close for comfort.

“My bad,” she said, crouching quickly to gather the fallen items—his sign, his dignity, and his will to live…

Ijichi took a full, stumbling step back, hands hovering uselessly as his brain desperately tried to reassemble itself after being bodied by a human bullet train.

“I—I—what—” he sputtered, too overwhelmed to string together a coherent sentence.

The girl popped back up, extending his glasses toward him with a sheepish grin.

“You okay?” she asked, head tilting in concern. “You look like you just saw a ghost.””

On autopilot, he accepted them. She’d even taken care to wipe them clean with the hem of her offensively orange jacket— an eyesore of a thing that looked like it had been through several questionable life choices.

His own mind went haywire as a mountain of tasks began to form in his head. He had to get changed, first and foremost. Next, his sign was pretty much ineligible. Where would he get a new—

The girl squinted at the soaked remains of his sign, barely legible under a coat of broth and noodles.

“Uzu…maki Naruto?” she read aloud, tilting her head curiously before beaming like she had just found a winning lottery ticket. ”Hey, that’s me!” 

Silence.

Ijichi stared at her.

Then very slowly turned his gaze toward the neatly printed sign that had been sent flying during the impact.

Then stared at her some more.

He took a slow, measured breath.

“…You’re Uzumaki-sama?” he asked, just to be absolutely sure.

Of all the things he had braced himself for—some aged, wizened sage, perhaps, or an austere figure in ceremonial robes—this was not one of them.

Cerulean eyes widened for half a second before she let out a snort.

“Uzumaki-sama?” she echoed, nose scrunching like he had just suggested something heinously offensive. “Ugh, that’s so stuffy.”

Then, crossing her arms, she puffer her cheeks.

“Call me Naruto, ’ttebayo!”

That was when Ijichi knew this mission was going to end him.

Tan hands dropped to her side as she eyed him curiously.

“Wait, if you’re here for me…” she muttered, squinting at him as if trying to piece something together. Then, quite suddenly—

A grin split across her face.

“Ohhh!” she snapped her fingers, pointing at him. “You must be Gojo, right?”

He nearly fainted, glasses sliding dangerously down his nose as his brain went completely blank for half a second.

“I—I am Ijichi Kiyotaka,” he corrected, straightening his glasses with trembling fingers. “Gojo-senpai was… occupied today, so I was sent in his stead.”

Naruto blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then her expression shifted into something resembling mild disappointment.

“Damn,” she huffed. “I heard he was strong… I wanted to fight him.”

Fight him.

There were so many things wrong with that statement that he didn’t even know where to begin. Did she even know who she was talking about? Gojo Satoru wasn’t just strong—he was terrifying. He could probably erase entire countries if he ever got bored enough to try.

And this girl—this tiny, chaotic hurricane of a person—had just announced her desire to fight him.

His fingers twitched. His brain stalled.

What have I gotten myself into?

Naruto, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered, already brushing it off with a carefree grin.

“No worries, ’ttebayo!” she chirped. “I’ll just find him later!”

That might have been the most horrifying sentence Ijichi had ever heard in his life.

He shook his head rapidly. They were already half an hour late to their meeting with Yaga. He did not have time to unpack this mess.

"Uzumaki-s—"

Her sharp blue eyes glinted.

Ijichi gulped.

“Er—Naruto,” he quickly corrected. “We should really get going.”

She beamed, looking satisfied. “Okay!”

Then spun around and walked confidently into the wrong direction.

Straight into the crowd.

Ijichi’s stomach plummeted. He barely bit back a panicked noise, eyes darting wildly for her luggage.

But Naruto must have caught his frantic searching because she suddenly threw her head back in laughter. She held up her hands, showing off the intricate black ink markings swirling across her forearms and palms.

“Oh, don’t worry!” she said cheerfully, wiggling her fingers. “Got ‘em all right here. Handy, huh?”

Ijichi stared at the markings, realizing belatedly that they must have been some kind of sealing technique.

The sorcerer in him wanted to analyze it—how did it work? How much could she store?—but the rational part of his brain screamed, DON’T ASK. JUST ACCEPT IT.

Naruto, oblivious to his minor existential crisis, had already started walking again—except this time, she slowed to a stop, scratching her head.

“…Wait,” she muttered, “I totally just started walking without knowing where we’re going.”

Ijichi took a very deep breath.

“It’s this way,” he sighed, stepping in front of her.

Naruto just grinned and followed, humming a cheerful tune under her breath.

And as they made their way toward the exit, Ijichi mentally prepared himself for the longest mission of his career.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a mission?”

The voice floated in lazily in from the doorway.

Gojo Satoru bother turning his head. He stretched out long across the dojo floor, arms above his head, legs dangling off the edge of a training mat. His glasses were pushed up like a headband, and his phone rested on his chest like a forgotten paperweight.

“Eh?” he replied, squinting up at the ceiling like it might have the answer. “Was I?”

In the doorway stood Geto Suguru, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His dark eyes were half-lidded with the kind of exhaustion only Gojo could inspire, a silent accusation resting in his stare.

“Don’t play dumb,” Geto said, stepping inside with the kind of slow, patient energy that screamed ‘I knew you’d flake.’ “The delegation’s arriving today, remember? Yaga-sensei gave you the assignment personally.”

Gojo made a low, thoughtful sound—like this was brand new information. Then he glanced down at his phone with a comical expression of realization.

“Oh right, that.”

He flippantly tossed his phone aside, all thoughts of the mission easily disregarded. 

Honestly, he'd dumped the task onto Ijichi so long ago that it had practically been erased from his memory (it was yesterday). 

What did he care about overseas guests and political formalities? Especially when they were probably just old geezers who'd talk his ear off about the ‘state of the world’ and ‘the importance of diplomacy.’ 

Yeah no, hard pass.

He’d thought his favorite kohai, Ijichi, would be fine to handle the matter quickly by himself—ecstatic even, to receive such a high class mission. 

Really, he was doing the guy a favor.

He himself had many other things he’d much rather do anyways.

Like lay on the dojo mat contemplating life.

What can he say? Gojo Satoru is one busy man.

“Right, well,” Gojo yawned, rolling onto his side as he waved a hand lazily, “I got someone else to do that. Should be picking ‘em up right about now.” He flashed a smirk. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll check in.”

Geto shot him an unimpressed look.

Rolling his eyes, Gojo scooped his phone back up from the floor, dialing the number with exaggerated reluctance. True to character, barely a ring had passed by when Ijichi dutifully answers his phone.

“Yo,” he greeted casually, reclining against the wall across from Geto. “Just checkin’ in. How’s the mission? You bonding?”

A muffled clatter on the other end, followed by Ijichi’s predictably frazzled tone. “Ah, good afternoon, Senpai. My apologies, Naruto and I are running a little late—”

Gojo’s eyes flicked to his watch. He had no idea what the actual schedule was, so he merely shrugged. Didn’t really matter.

“Naruto?” he echoed, testing the name. His nose wrinkled slightly. “Who names their kid after a fishcake?”

“Ijichi-kun, you’re nodding while you’re on the phone, did ya know that?” A new voice—higher, lilting with amusement—cut through the line.

Gojo lifts a brow at that, but when Geto sends him a questionable look from across the room, stalking closer to listen in, he instead took the opportunity that presented itself in the dark haired boy’s rapt attention.

“What’s that, you say?” Gojo interrupted, voice playfully loud for his counterpart to hear. “It’s going great? You’re having so much fun? You wish I’d send you on more missions?”

“Er… Well—“

Ijichi’s hesitation crackled through the speaker.

There was a loud yelp from Ijichi’s end and before he could get an answer, the call abruptly cut off.

Gojo stared at his phone for a second, debating whether to call back, but his eyes land on Geto, and all other thoughts seem to drift away.

It feels like it’d been forever after all. 

Geto let out another long-suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. Gojo was beginning to gain a reputation amongst their cohorts at this point, and it was one that was not doing him any favors. Despite their often absence from school grounds these days, he had been around enough at one point to know just who Gojo had lumped his mission onto. 

“You shouldn’t use Ijichi so carelessly, Satoru.”

Gojo scoffed, flopping onto the floor and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Rather this than being sent on a mission out of his depth, no? Trust me, he’s getting paid well.” His grin widened at Geto’s unimpressed stare.

”You gave him hush money.”

”It’s called delegation, Suguru. Look it up.”

Geto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And beautiful,” Gojo added, pointing finger guns from his reclined position.

Geto ignored him and crouched near the open window, where a warm breeze slipped through the slats. His fingers absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Gojo tilted his head, eyes lingering on the purpling skin underneath the other boy’s eyes. In the marginal moments he’d caught with his friend, he’d been wondering why he looked so differently lately.

“You look tired,” he said, tone shifting just a fraction.

“Hm?”

”Dark circles. Zombie vibes. You sneak out for a secret double life or something?”

Geto huffed a soft laugh, but didn’t look up. For a second, something unreadable flickered across his face, but then, like a well-oiled machine, he forced a faint smile.

“Just more night missions lately. Nothing interesting.”

Gojo squinted. “Yaga stacking your schedule again?”

”Something like that.”

There was something about the way he said it—too calm, too polished. Gojo studied him for another beat, but Geto was already redirecting, gaze turned out the window.

“I should be heading out soon, actually. Another one tonight.”

Gojo sat up, brushing lint off his shirt. “Solo mission?”

”Yeah.”

Gojo’s fingers drummed idly against his knee. A tension lingered, something unspoken, but before it could settle too heavily, he stretched, popped his neck, then grinned. ”Want a partner?”

Geto hesitated, just for a breath.

Then he met Gojo’s gaze—a brilliant, challenging blue—and a smirk ghosted over his lips.

“…Sure, Satoru.”

Gojo grinned back, eyes glinting. “You just miss me, don’t you?”

“No, I just don’t want to do all the work.”

“Lies. You love me.”

Geto rolled his eyes and stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “Let’s just go before you hand off another job to Ijichi and cause an international incident.”

As they stepped out into the daylight, Geto’s expression softened just a little, unreadable thoughts flickering behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything else.

Because it had been a while.

And though it was fleeting, though it was barely a glimpse, he could see the boy he used to know—the boy who lived much more vividly in his memories.

”For old time’s sake.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Ijichi spent a full minute staring into the mirror of the airport bathroom, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left.

Soup had dried on his collar. His sign was beyond saving. His nerves were frayed.

This was not the high-class mission he’d signed up for.

When he finally emerged—shirt half-damp, expression haunted—he found Naruto by a duty-free shop, cheerfully browsing through a rack of loud, questionably colored tourist T-shirts. She had somehow made a new friend: an elderly woman now cackling at whatever she was saying.

Ijichi sighed, already preparing to head over.

It was then that his phone rang, the blaring, obnoxiously specific ringtone he had set for one person and one person only.

He braced himself as he answered, “Gojo-senpai?”

“Yooo~,” came the unmistakably smug voice on the other end. “Just checkin’ in. How’s the mission? You bonding?”

Ijichi barely registered the words, distracted by Naruto laughing loudly in the background. She had somehow roped an elderly woman into a conversation, the two of them giggling as she held up a shirt with an atrocious print. When she caught his eye, she grinned and held it up proudly, as if asking for his opinion.

He rubbed his temples at that particular atrocity. It’s been a long day.

“Ah, good afternoon, senpai,” he replied, still frazzled. “My apologies, Naruto and I are running a little late.”

“…Naruto?” Gojo mused. “Who names their kid after a fishcake?”

Before Ijichi could respond, another voice popped up from behind him.

“Ijichi-kun, you’re nodding while you’re on the phone, did ya know that?” Naruto’s amused tone caught him off guard.

He stiffened. His face reddened as he realized she was now peering over his shoulder, completely invading his space.

A second later, alarms blared.

Gojo’s voice cut back in with fake cheer.

“What’s that, you say? It’s going great? You’re having so much fun? You wish I’d send you on more missions?”

Every head in the store turned as security lights flashed, and Ijichi blanched as several uniformed men rushed toward them.

”Er—well—“

Ijichi turned in slow, dawning horror.

Naruto, completely unbothered, still had the shirt in her hand.

Instinctively, he took a frantic step back, wanting to disassociate himself from her. But before he could do anything else, Naruto moved at the last second, smoothly side stepping out of the way and leaving him directly in the path of the oncoming guards.

A second later, Ijichi found himself tackled to the ground, a yelp falling from his mouth.

His phone clattered out of his hands.

Through the haze of his mortification, he could hear the blonde apologizing profusely to the guards.

“I swear it was an accident! I didn’t even want that shirt! Okay, maybe a little bit—BUT—!”

Naruto, to her credit, swiftly resolved the ordeal, sheepishly apologizing to the staff as she repeatedly mumbled something about “not knowing how this world worked.”

And by the time she smoothed things over with an abundance of bows and they’d finally left the airport, Ijichi felt like he had aged a decade.

The car ride was mercifully quiet. Naruto, seemingly unaffected by the catastrophe she’d caused, dozed off beside him, her head gently resting against the window.

Ijichi, on the other hand, sat rigidly in his seat, hands clasped tightly in his lap as he stared ahead in exhausted silence. From the corner of his eye, a splash of neon orange caught his attention. He glanced down at the shirt he placatingly wore, topped with an ‘I <3 JAPAN’ in animal print, and spared a glance toward Naruto.

He hadn’t been sure what to think when she’d picked it out in the duty-free shop, but he couldn’t deny that it suited her energy perfectly.

"You really have no taste, huh?" he muttered, only half-serious. "Guess it’s... fine," he mumbled under his breath, his lips curving into a reluctant smile as he let his thoughts drift.

He supposed it was thoughtful of her that she’d thought to replace his shirt…

Although, it was her mess in the first place. And of course, she also didn’t have any actual money, so he had ended up paying for this monstrosity of a shirt for himself. But honestly, she seemed so excited about it that he couldn’t bring himself to complain. 

Whetever.

He’ll put it on Gojo’s bill— along with the emotional damage the day had caused.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“But… this is Ichiraku Ramen right?”

The shop clerk winced.

“Yes, miss, but I’m sorry, we can’t accept… that.”

Naruto’s tear blurred eyes threatened to spill as she met the apologetic face of the shop owner. He held out a hand, attempting to return the crumpled napkin she had handed him.

It was a free bowl coupon for Ichiraku Ramen, signed by someone named Teuchi, topped with a smiley face and a kind note, saying you earned this one Naruto!

Her lower lip wobbled. “You sure?”

“I—I really wish I could help,” the man said, hands raised in placating defense. He was not equipped to deal with a tearful, heartbroken foreigner. “I really wish I could help, but… we’re not the same Ichiraku.”

Naruto’s shoulders slumped.

“…’S’okay. Thanks anyway,” she mumbled dejectedly, taking back her coupon like she’d been betrayed by the universe. She carefully stuffed it into the empty kunai pouch at her hip before sulking away, stomach growling dramatically.

She wandered through the terminal, dodging travelers and dragging her feet with the blank-eyed stare of a child who’d just been told Santa Clause wasn’t real.

Eventually, she drifted into a quiet lounge area, drawn in by the siren song of a glowing red sign that read: HOT WATER AVAILABLE.

Naruto blinked.

Then perked up.

Hope.

With renewed purpose, she slapped her palm and activated a seal tattooed along her forearm. A flare of black ink shimmered—and a cup of instant ramen appeared in her hand like a gift from the heavens.

She whispered reverently, “You’ve always been there for me.”

The water dispenser hissed to life.

Three minutes later, she was perched on a chair, happily slurping away at her noodles.

It wasn’t Ichiraku, but it would do.

Halfway through inhaling her ramen, a thought finally surfaced.

…Right.

She was supposed to be meeting someone.

That Gojo guy. The ‘six-eyes’ person.

She blinked at her half-eaten ramen. Considered.

“…He’ll live.”

She tilted her head, mentally running through her options. She could finish her ramen first—priorities, after all—but she also probably shouldn’t keep the guy waiting too long.

Well, no big deal. She’d just take it to go.

She stood, ramen in hand, humming as she made her way out of the lounge—

Only to be stopped by a sharp voice.

“Hey! This is a restricted area! You don’t even work here!”

Naruto froze, mid-step, as a group of airport staff gawked at her incredulously.

Her response?

“Sorry,” shechirped, adjusting her grip on her ramen. “I got lost on the road of life.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“Get her!”

“WH—”

Naruto didn’t wait for further clarification. She bolted.

She tore through the airport, dodging past confused travelers, her ramen sloshing dangerously in the cup. She spared a glance over her shoulder, half-expecting to see a full hunter-nin team in pursuit.

That was her first mistake.

The second mistake was not looking where she was going.

Because in the very next second, she slammed full-speed into something—or rather, someone.

There was a muffled high-pitched shriek (one that had not come from her), followed by a sharp inhale—

And then, in slow, horrifying motion, she watched as her cup of ramen went soaring through the air.

Damn, I was so close to finishing it too...

Chapter Text

The ride from the airport felt like an eternity.

Outside, the streets of Tokyo crawled at a glacial pace—neon lights flashing, pedestrians drifting by, horns blaring like a background track to Ijichi’s personal hell. The car had moved maybe a block in twenty minutes. 

Ijichi kept his gaze fixed forward, still processing the chaos that had unfolded only an hour ago. Just a few minutes ago, he’d made the reluctant phone call to Yaga, expressing his deepest apologies that they definitely wouldn’t be making it back to campus on time. The man had brushed it off, moving their meeting to tomorrow morning instead. It didn’t stop Ijichi from squirming in his seat at the thought that Yaga was even a little upset.

Meanwhile, no stranger to getting comfortable, Naruto had kicked back in her seat, arms behind her head, completely at ease with the world. She had even drooled at some point, her forehead smushed against the window. 

At the very least, Naruto seems to have finally quieted down, lulled to sleep by the hum of the city.

Peace. Finally.

Ijichi dared to relax just a fraction—

"Hey Glasses, look!"

Naruto shot up so suddenly that the driver, a Window, yelped, jerking the wheel just enough to make Ijichi’s life flash before his eyes.

With the patience of a man who had already suffered too much today, he exhaled slowly.

“…Yes, Naruto?”

She nudged towards the window.

He followed her gaze to a gaudy, oversized tour bus parked along the curb. The sides were painted with corny cartoon ghosts and ‘ominous’ figures, and in the center of it all— blood red letters proudly declared: Tokyo’s Most Haunted Tour – Are You Brave Enough?

Ijichi blinked. “...What about it?”

Naruto groaned, flopping dramatically against the seat. “I can’t sit in this car anymore, we’ve moved, like, two feet in the last hour!”

“Twenty minutes,” Ijichi corrected automatically, as if accuracy could save him.

“Same thing!” Naruto shot back. “We gotta do something before I lose my mind!”

Ijichi deadpanned, slowly turning his head to look at her. Just ten seconds ago, she had been snoring against the window, drooling. 

“You were literally just asleep,” he pointed out.

Naruto waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, but now I’m awake.”

“And that means…?”

“It means I can’t sit still!” she whined, kicking her legs against the seat like a restless child. “I’ll go crazy if I have to sit here for another second!”

Ijichi rubbed his temples. “You were perfectly fine seconds ago.”

Naruto leaned in conspiratorially. “That was then, Ijichi. This is now.”

Ijichi exhaled slowly, willing patience into his soul. “Or we could stay in the car like normal people and wait.”

Naruto gasped, clutching her chest as if he’d stabbed her. “Wait? While we move slower than a snail? Ijichi, do you want me to die of boredom?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Besides, that ‘something’ does not need to be a corny tourist trap,” Ijichi muttered.

“Oh,” Naruto suddenly drawled in solemnity, “I get it… You’re scared.”

Ijichi bristled in his seat. “That’s ridiculous. I deal with actualy cursed spirits daily.”

She gasped, all mock horror. “You’re totally scared.”

“I am not—”

And that’s when she pulled out the big guns.

“Please?” she asked sweetly, batting her lashes.

Ijichi was a man of logic. A man of reason. He had faced down arrogant higher-ups, negotiated with difficult clients, and even endured Gojo’s insufferable antics for a little over a year now.

“I’ll shut up, promise.”

And sold.

Within the next ten minutes, he found himself squeezed into a crowded tour bus, surrounded by overly enthusiastic tourists. They chattered excitedly as they drove through the city in the other direction of the traffic they’d been stuck in.

The opposite direction from campus, Ijichi noted specifically with a slight grudge.

His eye twitched as someone—wearing the exact same garish tourist shirt Naruto had bought him—cheerfully waved in his direction.

The guide at the front wore a cape that looked like it had been stolen from a discount Halloween store, his dramatic gestures entirely unnecessary as he spoke of a supposed "ghost sighting" in Shibuya.

Naruto, on the other hand? Thriving.

”There’s no better way than to learn about this place, ‘ttebayo!”

Ijichi could think of at least a hundred better ways that didn’t involve tourist traps and questionable ghost stories, but let the comment slide.

They stopped at several spooky locations around the city and were even able to get off at most stops— an abandoned school said to be haunted by a vengeful teacher, an old apartment complex where a tragic death was said to have occurred, and even a dark alleyway that local legends claimed was cursed. 

Contrary to the popular belief, there were no actual cursed spirits present at any of the sites.

Ijichi stood rigid among the excited tourists, arms crossed, his deadpan expression unwavering. He remained the designated skeptic, unimpressed by tales of wailing spirits and vengeful yokai. The energetic blonde on his right was snapping pictures (on his phone, of course), asking a million questions, and fully engaging with the spooky theatrics.

At one point, even the guide looked exhausted.

The final stop brought them to an old, forgotten shrine on the outskirts of the city. It was an eerie place—choked with thick trees and overgrown foliage, the air heavy with something he couldn't quite place.

In the middle of his usual spiel of vengeful curses, the tour guide led them past a barricaded path. Yellow caution tape fluttered limply over the entrance, and a bold red "NO TRESPASSING" sign was nailed into the ancient wood. Beyond it, a lone pagoda peeked through the trees, its dark silhouette casting long, spindly shadows.

That was when Naruto’s energy shifted.

Ijichi noticed immediately—the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her bright, playful expression dimmed into something focused. It was subtle, but to someone who had spent the last few hours enduring her boundless enthusiasm, the contrast was striking.

“Rumor has it…” The guide lowered his voice for dramatic effect. “Just last week, three people went missing in this very area.”

A pair of giggling high school girls lingered at the back of the group, slipping through the barricade the moment no one was looking. Well, all but one person. 

Naruto narrowed her eyes in the direction the girls had disappeared to.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured to him quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of other tourists. Then she was gone, slipping past the caution tape with practiced ease, vanishing into the thick shadows beyond.

Ijichi blinked, barely registering what had happened as he cursed under his breath, already knowing that Naruto was too quick for him to stop. 

His gaze flickered to the tour group, still oblivious, still listening to the guide ramble on about “restless spirits.”

With a resigned sigh, he adjusted his glasses and muttered the words to raise a curtain. If things were about to go south, he needed to be prepared.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

He was off not a second later.

Something was wrong.

Moonlight could barely cut through the canopy above, casting faint beams across the uneven path to the pagoda. The air was thick, heavy in a way that made his skin crawl. It wasn’t just the eerie quiet of the shrine or the oppressive stillness of the trees. No, this was something worse.

He felt it, then, as soon as he’d reached the clearing the pagoda lied within— Cursed energy, suffocating and oppressive, slammed into his chest, wrapping around his limbs like chains. His breath stuttered. His body locked up.

He was frozen.

A glimpse of movement in his peripherals. 

Underneath the pagoda, the shadows twisted unnaturally. Something peeled itself free from the darkness. His stomach dropped as a monstrous curse emerged from the entryway, draped in writhing black tendrils. Its jagged grin stretched too wide, its sickly yellow eyes locking onto him with unblinking malice. The air around it warped, nausea-inducing, the stench of rot thick enough to choke on.

The energy emanating from the creature was far more malevolent than anything he’d ever encountered. His mind screamed at him to act, to do something, but he could feel the crushing weight of its presence like an invisible hand squeezing the air from his lungs. 

He thought of the tourists nearby, of the teenagers who had wandered onto this path earlier.

They were going to die.

They were all going to die.

Something crunched beside him—gravel shifting under a footstep. He flinched, expecting the curse to lunge, only to realize it was Naruto stepping forward.

She cracked her knuckles.

His heart pounded against his ribs. "Naruto—"

But she was already moving.

One second, she was beside him—the next, across the clearing, kunai flashing. Ijichi barely registered the strike before she was yanking one of the teenagers—when had she even gotten there?!—out of the curse’s grip, landing a few feet away with barely a stumble.

But—how?

His eyes snapped back to the curse. The wound she’d left behind was already gone, sealing up as if it had never been there. The creature didn’t even flinch.

Yet, more than that—Naruto’s sheer speed left him reeling. The blonde had moved like a blur, a flash of yellow that was almost impossible to track with the naked eye. 

“Yo, Ijichi.” Her voice snapped him from his daze. “You done standing there?”

She was already poised for the next attack, three-pronged kunai in each hand, her body relaxed but ready.

His pulse slowed. Right. He wasn’t just with anyone. She was a national hero. A Hokage candidate. She—

She’s got this.

Ijichi bolted toward the teenage girl, ready to tend to her wounds, but his gaze kept flicking to the fight. Naruto moved with practiced ease, her strikes landing with enough force to ripple through the curse’s form.

The curse roared, its eyes glowing a malicious yellow, but Naruto was undeterred. Her chakra flared, and she moved in again. Punches, kicks, and slashes—all of them landed with the kind of force that made the creature’s form distort with each blow, but nothing seemed to stop it.

It kept regenerating.

Her attacks landed with bone-crushing force, but they were ineffective—painful, yes, but nowhere near fatal.

Ijichi watched the fight as it gradually grew redundant.

"The core, Naruto!" Ijichi shouted, his voice raw with urgency. "Go for its core!"

She hesitated, her head tilting slightly. Then, she scratched her cheek. "… Where’s that?"

His stomach lurched.

It was right there—a pulsating red mass on its abdomen that screamed weak spot more than anything else on its horrific body.

She hadn’t aimed for it.

Hadn’t even looked at it.

Something clicked in his mind right then.

She hadn’t aimed for the core, hadn’t gone for a weak spot because—

Because she hadn’t seen it.

His mouth went dry.

Because she can’t?

Had she… been fighting blind this entire time?

A cold realization crept through him. He had been briefed on her abilities before their mission, the reports on shinobi from the Elemental Nations. They didn’t possess cursed energy. They didn’t see curses the way sorcerers did.

Which meant—

Naruto can’t see the curse at all.

Awe swelled in his chest, battling the rising panic. She had been fighting this thing blind, fighting on instinct alone.

And yet—she was holding her own, winning even.

But not for long.

At this rate, the fight was going nowhere.

"Fall back, Naruto!" he yelled. "You can't kill a cursed spirit without cursed energy!"

Naruto jumped back, avoiding a swipe that left a deep gash in the stone where she had been standing a second ago. She clicked her tongue in thought. "Cursed energy, huh?"

She summoned a handful of clones, sending them into the fray as she fell back. 

Poof!

Four gone in an instant with a particularly brutal hit. 

Her brows furrowed in concentration, trying to sense something more specific. But it was hard. The curse itself was invisible to her, hidden from her natural chakra-driven senses. She could only feel the distortion in the air.

It wasn’t enough.

Poof!

Another crushed under a massive, clawed hand. 

Poof!

Another ripped apart mid-air.

She inhaled deeply, reaching inward—toward something else.

A familiar warmth stirred in the depths of her consciousness. Behind the bars of an ancient seal, a slitted red eye cracked open.

She understood now. Why her father had sent her. Not the teme, not Kakashi-sensei, Obito-kun, or even Pervy Sage, but her.

A low, rumbling voice filled her thoughts.

"Tch. Brat."

A grin curled her lips.

Thanks, Kurama.

Power surged, thick and wild. The air crackled. Chakra flared—this time tangible. Clawed fingers. Fanged grin. Wispy fox-like ears twitched atop her head. Behind her, a single tail of chakra curled and flicked.

The cursed recoiled slightly, taking unsure steps back towards the pagoda it had emerged from.

Then—finally—her eyes locked onto the curse’s figure.

For the first time, she truly saw it.

A sharp, predatory grin stretched across her face.

"I knew you’d be one ugly bastard!" she howled, launching forward.

Ijichi barely had time to process what was happening before she followed the cursed spirit into the building.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Leaves crunched underfoot as two pairs of shoes moved through a forest on the outskirts of Tokyo. The moon barely peeked through the dense canopy, its silver light glinting off a mop of snow white hair.

“So then, I swapped out Nanami’s green tea ice cream for wasabi paste,” Gojo was grinning ear to ear.

Geto sighed. “Satoru.”

The white haired boy continued, “Nanamin takes one bite, just one, and his soul leaves his body.”

A pause.

“You’re going to give him an aneurysm.”

“Haibara fell out of his seat laughing,” Gojo cackled, tilting his head back as he walked. “You should’ve seen it. His face went through all five stages of grief in like, three seconds. By the time he hit acceptance, he just stared at the wall like he was reconsidering his entire existence.”

“…How have you not been murdered yet?”

“Because it’s Nanamin— he loves me,” Gojo declared proudly, flicking a twig off his uniform. “He knows I’m too pretty to die.”

Before Geto could respond, not that he had much to say in response to that… the familiar pulse of cursed energy ahead cut through their banter like a knife. 

They’d stepped through a curtain.

A torii gate loomed in the distance, its weathered wood barely visible through the encroaching mist. Beyond it, a lone pagoda stood, partially obscured by the winding path leading deeper into the forest. The oppressive energy seeped from within, curling through the air like invisible tendrils, warping the very atmosphere.

Its sheer presence indicated that whatever it was lurking in there was easily first grade.

Then, the sound of muffled sobs.

Gojo and Geto slowed their steps, their sharp gazes snapping to a figure huddled near the base of the torii gate. A teenage girl, her school uniform rumpled and dirt-streaked, sat curled into herself, trembling as she buried her face in her hands. The moment she sensed them, her head shot up—her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto them with a desperate, pleading light.

“It took her,” she choked out, struggling to form words between her shuddering breaths. “My friend—she pushed me out of the way. I couldn’t do anything but run… Please, save her.”

Geto’s expression barely shifted, but something in his gaze cooled, a quiet disdain. He remained silent as Gojo crouched down slightly, leveling himself with the girl.

“Hey, hey, deep breath, yeah? You’re safe now,” he reassured, flashing an easy grin. “Where’d it take him?”

She swallowed thickly and lifted a trembling hand, pointing toward the pagoda.

Gojo and Geto exchanged a glance before moving forward, the girl trailing closely behind, too afraid to be left alone.

The air thickened as they approached. The cursed energy thrummed against Gojo’s senses, erratic, unnatural. His Six Eyes flickered, mapping the scene before them. Threads of energy twisted in disarray, like the aftermath of a battle still settling into the earth.

Wait.

Gojo’s steps faltered—just for half a second.

He felt something familiar.

Ijichi?

What the hell was Ijichi doing here?

Before he could voice his confusion, the girl let out a sharp gasp.

“Sayuri-chan!”

She broke into a sprint, dropping to her knees beside the unconscious form of another teenage girl sprawled on the ground. Her uniform was torn, face pale, but her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. She was alive. Ijichi stood beside her, his posture stiff and face unreadable beneath a thin sheen of sweat.

Gojo barely had time to take in the scene before something dropped from above. 

Instinct kicked in—he and Geto jumped back, narrowly dodging the impact of debris as it rained down from the top of the pagoda.

Then—

A shadow dropped from above.

Light, fluid, and eerily quiet.

Gojo’s body tensed instinctively, but he didn’t move—because whatever just landed wasn’t cursed. It was too controlled. Too… human.

The figure rose slowly from a crouch, outlined in glowing red light. A foreign, potent energy clung to them like a living thing, flickering at their limbs, curling behind them in the ghost of a tail.

Their back was turned to the duo as the flickering orb of power in their hands dissipated into nothingness. The curse was already disintegrating, its grotesque remains crumbling into the dirt.

Gojo’s mind went blank for the briefest moment before gears started turning at full speed. What. The. Hell?

Gojo felt Geto tense beside him, his casual expression shifting into something more serious. The two exchanged a glance—silent but entirely in sync.

Ijichi was here, looking completely shaken. A high-grade curse was here. First-grade, possibly special-grade. And now there was a foreign figure standing over its corpse, completely unscathed.

Casually, the figure reached into the pile of rotting filth at their feet, digging through the remnants of the curse without hesitation.

A moment later, they pulled something free with a wet squelch.

A gnarled, blackened finger.

A very familiar finger.

Gojo’s eyes locked onto it instantly.

“Oi, Ijichi,” he drawled, his tone light, but edged with curiosity. “Wanna tell me why you let some random tourist take down a special-grade for you?”

Ijichi exhaled slowly, as if mesmerized himself. “She’s—”

“Ijichi-kun!” the female voice called out, dangling the cursed appendage as if she had just found someone’s lost keys. “Is this important?”

Then finally, the figure turned; red energy still licked at her limbs like fire, glowing like embers in the dark.

Gojo’s brain short-circuited.

She was—

The kind of beautiful that wasn’t just in how she looked, though that was something all on its own. Long, blonde hair catching the night air, strands flickering like firelight. Bright, electric blue eyes, full of something wild and untamed, that gleamed beneath the moonlight.

She twirled a three-pronged kunai between her fingers, absentmindedly catching it with ease as she glanced around at the destruction. Sheepishly, she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Huh, didn’t think I hit the bastard that hard,” she muttered.

A strangled noise escaped Ijichi’s throat.

“Naruto?!” His voice cracked as he staggered forward, eyes wide with panic.

He flailed slightly, words failing him as he took in the utter devastation. His knees still felt weak from the pressure of the curse’s energy, and yet here she was, completely fine—standing there like she hadn’t just walked straight into the jaws of death.

He wheezed. “I—I thought you died!”

“Nah, I’m good,” she said cheerfully, blinking at him innocently. “Just got a little dirty.”

Ijichi visibly sagged, clutching at his chest like he was on the verge of a heart attack. “You disappeared into the pagoda—alone—against that thing!”

“Yeah, it was pretty ugly.” Naruto hummed thoughtfully, kicking at a piece of rubble. “But it was weak.”

Ijichi let out a strangled whimper.

Meanwhile, Gojo hadn’t moved.

Because—what?

This was Naruto?

This was the delegation?

He bit back a grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Huh."

Geto sent him a questioning look.  "What?"

"Nothing," Gojo hummed. "Just thinking maybe I should have taken the delegation job a little more seriously."

Geto didn’t audibly respond, only sending him a very wicked side-eye.

Naruto dusted off her hands, eyes flicking toward Gojo and Geto for the first time. Blue eyes met blue, a spark of something unreadable passing between them.

She tilted her head slightly, expression open, unbothered by the weight of his gaze. Some remnants of crimson chakra still flickered around her, dissipating like embers in the wind.

Finally, she grinned.

"Yo," she greeted, casual as anything, like they hadn’t just met under the absolute weirdest circumstances. “You must be the guy who ditched this mission, huh?”

For a moment, Gojo just… stared.

Not at the Sukuna finger. Not at the remains of the curse.

But at her.

His mind was still trying to catch up.

This was really Uzumaki Naruto?

The legendary seal master from Konohagakure?

He had skimmed the report, sure—but he’d expected someone different. A big-deal seal master from another world? He’d pictured some cranky old guy in ceremonial robes with a scroll the size of a futon, not—

Not someone who made him forget what he was about to say the moment they’d locked eyes.

Not a girl with sunfire hair and ridiculously bright eyes, standing there with a Sukuna finger dangling from her fingertips like it— well, like it wasn’t a literal finger. 

And wasn’t Naruto a boy’s name?

He tilted his head, looking at her figure.

She was definitely not the old sack of bones he’d been expecting. Not even close.

Gojo blinked, the slight moment of shock passing. Then, he grinned back, his tone effortlessly playful.

“Guilty. Though, I didn’t realize I’d be meeting the most beautiful girl in Japan tonight.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, the confidence dripping from every word.

For a moment, she just blinked at him.

Once.

Twice.

Gojo thought he might have knocked her off balance—maybe she'd stammer, or at least blush. But instead, she turned her attention, not to him, but to the pair of high school girls in her peripheral. For a moment, her brows furrowed slightly, gaze softening.

She’d lost sight of the second girl earlier and had jumped to all sorts of conclusions of what that curse might’ve done to her. Relief flooded her system— they were both okay.

Then, as if just realizing Gojo was still there, she turned back to him and frowned.

“Uh…” She scratched her cheek with her free hand—the other still holding Sukuna’s finger like it was a mildly interesting rock she had picked up off the ground. “I think she’s a little young for you, old man.”

Geto snorted—sharp and instantaneous.

Gojo tried to respond.

Truly, he did. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again—like a goldfish struggling for oxygen.

Naruto squinted, genuine concern on her face now. “You okay? You having a stroke or something?”

Ijichi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Geto, off to the side, muttered, “This is painful to watch.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Inside the pagoda was eerily silent.

Dust floated in the moonlight that seeped through cracks in the walls, catching on old prayer papers that lined the interior—wards, withered and expired. The air carried the scent of damp wood and decay, a place long forgotten by time.

Naruto stepped carefully across the creaking planks, her keen eyes scanning the 4th floor of the tower. The curse had all but disappeared into the shadows, but its lingering presence sent an itch crawling up her spine. Her gaze settled on the only object in the room—a lone, black-lacquered box.

It sat atop an altar, resting on an intricately woven cloth, its symbols embroidered in gold faded almost to the point of ineligibility.

Her sharp eyes scanned the kanji inscribed on the offering plate.

"Our beloved god, the King of Curses."

Naruto raised a brow. "That’s not ominous at all."

And despite all the very obvious warning signs, she pried the lid open.

Inside was a withered, blackened finger.

Naruto stared at it.

The air seemed to shift around it, thickening with something dark and evil. A whisper, barely audible, brushed against the edges of her senses, as if urging her to—

Her stomach grumbled.

"Don’t even think about it, kit."

Kurama’s low, warning growl rumbled through her subconscious, thick with distaste.

“Yeah…I can’t be that hungry.”

Shaking her head from her previous stupor, she moved to secure the box when a desperate shriek echoed through the tower.

Instinct took over.

She dodged to the side just as the cursed spirit lunged out from the shadows. It landed on the altar, its twisted limbs reaching desperately toward the box, trembling with excitement. With the lid open, it was able to promptly pluck the finger from its encasing and shove it into its awaiting maw.

Naruto folded her arms. “Huh. You and me both, pal.”

The curse shuddered violently. Its body convulsed, limbs snapping at odd angles as dark veins spread like roots beneath its pale, translucent skin. Its form bulged grotesquely, its flesh warping as the immense energy of what it had consumed surged through it.

The curse screeched, and Naruto sighed.

A flicker of red light illuminated the pagoda.

Naruto’s hand hovered near her side, fingers curling as a sphere of rotating energy crackled to life. A new Rasengan spun in her palm, but this one burned violently red.

The curse faltered in its position.

"Round 2 then.”

Chapter Text

Ijichi took the moment to debrief Gojo and Geto on what had happened. Gojo, for all his usual arrogance, seemed oddly distracted—his gaze flickering toward her every so often. But the moment she met his eye, he pointedly looked away.

Huh. Weird guy, Naruto mused to herself. 

Naruto listened absentmindedly, her ears picking up snippets of conversation. Apparently, the dark haired one had been sent on a mission here due to a string of disappearances—seven people gone without a trace over the past few weeks.

Seven people.

Her heart ached at the thought of what might have happened to them.

Missing didn’t mean dead. Not necessarily. But she knew better than most that when someone vanished without a trace, hope only stretched so far.

With a quiet exhale, she shook off the feeling and focused on securing the cursed object. Pulling a roll of gauze from the storage seal on her wrist, she methodically wrapped the shriveled, blackened finger. Then, she placed it into the wooden box she’d taken from the altar in the pagoda. With a few swift brushstrokes, she inked a sealing formula onto a paper tag and slapped it onto the lid, ensuring it was shut tight.

Satisfied, she turned to the dark-haired one and handed him the box— it was his mission after all.

“This’ll be a tough nut to crack,” she said with a confident nod. “Trust me, nobody’s opening this.”

He accepted the box, his expression shifting slightly as he inspected the surface. the seal work was intricate, so complex he could barely follow it. But as his eyes trailed over the markings, something else caught his attention.

Among the layered lines  kanji and intricate fūinjutsu, there were also… doodles? A crudely drawn skull, some angry-looking swirl marks, and—was that a chibi figure holding up a sign that said ‘Seriously, don’t open this?’

“…Thanks,” Geto said slowly, lips twitching. “I think.”

Naruto just grinned.

Adjusting the box under one arm, he turned back to her. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Geto Suguru.”

His introduction was polite, his tone even. He had a quiet sort of confidence, Naruto thought. The kind that came with experience.

She smiled, nodding back in greeting before turning to the white-haired one—who, oddly enough, shuffled slightly, looking far less self-assured than before. His fingers flexed at his sides, as if debating what to do with them.

His lips parted—then closed.

Naruto tilted her head. Was he… upset about her comment earlier?

She wasn’t sure how laws worked here but… in Konoha, old men didn’t date teenagers… That was just common sense. He couldn’t have possibly thought she, a woman, would just let that slide—

"I’m eighteen," he declared, crossing his arms like it was the most important fact she needed to know.

Naruto blinked at him.

"...Okay?"

A beat of silence.

Gojo visibly deflated. 

Geto sighed. 

Naruto frowned slightly, confused by the shift in atmosphere. Did she miss something?

“…Sorry?” she continued after a moment’s hesitation, gesturing vaguely to his head. “It was the hair.”

Ijichi, ever the patient one, sighed before stepping in to salvage the conversation. “That’s Gojo Satoru,” he explained, adjusting his glasses. “Special-grade sorcerer.”

Naruto’s eyes widened slightly.

For the strongest sorcerer she’d heard so much about—the last of his clan and all that jazz, she’d expected someone all serious and broody. Like Kakashi-sensei.

Instead, Gojo was grinning at her, slipping his sunglasses onto his head like a makeshift bandana. He slipped his hands into his pockets like he’d never been flustered in the first place.

“Don’t you mean, Gojo Satoru: genius, billionaire, devilishly handsome?”

Naruto snorted.

She gave him a once-over. Upon closer inspection, she supposed he didn’t look so old after all. Though his previous sunglasses made it hard to tell, especially under the dark canopy, he was actually quite—

She cut that thought off immediately.

Instead, she matched his energy, grinning right back.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” she declared. “Jōnin, Hokage candidate, fūinjutsu specialist, and ambassador of Konoha.” Folding her arms, she nodded firmly. “It’s an honor to be working alongside you all, and I hope we can cultivate a mutually beneficial alliance between our nations.”

She hesitated, then muttered under her breath, “Or, uh… something like that?”

Another beat of silence.

Geto raised an eyebrow. “That was… strangely formal.”

Ijichi, meanwhile, nodded approvingly, stars practically shining in his eyes.

Naruto huffed. “I think I said it right? I usually just say ‘yo, let’s work together,’ but Sakura-chan made me practice being diplomatic— drilled a bunch of polite greetings into my head before I left." Her eyes turned downwards, shuddering as if recalling a particularly traumatizing experience.

Gojo smirked. “‘Yo, let’s work together,’ sounds pretty efficient to me.”

“Right?!” Naruto beamed, jumping excitedly in place only to frown when something shifted under her foot—a chunk of broken wood from the battle. Right. The clearing was trashed. Scorched earth, shattered planks, debris everywhere.

“About the mess…” she trailed off.

Geto waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We usually have a clean-up team handle—”

Poof!

In a burst of smoke, dozens of Narutos now roamed the clearing, immediately setting to work. Some gathered scattered kunai, others stacked broken wood, and one particularly ambitious clone began attempting to reassemble a torii gate that had clearly been beyond saving the moment it collapsed.

Naruto dusted off her hands. “Boom. Problem solved.”

Geto blinked. “…Huh.”

Ijichi adjusted his glasses. “That’s… convenient.”

Gojo, on the other hand, looked delighted.

One of the clones—who had been dragging a massive log off the path—paused to point accusingly at another. “Oi! That was my piece of debris, bastard!”

“Uh, no, I grabbed it first,” the accused clone shot back.

“I literally had my hands on it!”

The second clone roared, immediately tackling her to the ground.

Another clone strolled past them, casually tossing the log over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Both of you shut up and keep working.”

The arguing clones gawked, then immediately ran to grab another piece of debris before anyone else could.

Meanwhile, a trio of clones crouched near a pile of rubble, having what looked to be a very serious discussion.

“I’m just saying,” one clone muttered, “the way this wall collapsed? No way it’s salvageable.”

“I mean, you could fix it with some strategic chakra molding?” another whispered back.

“Or…?”

”Or we could pretend we fixed it and walk away before anyone notices?”

The third clone was balancing on one foot atop a broken pillar, munching on a snack she absolutely hadn’t had a minute ago. “Boss, I’m taking my break early,” she announced. “We worked really hard.”

"You’ve been here for less than a minute!" Naruto snapped.

Meanwhile, the ambitious clone trying to reassemble the torii gate had somehow made things worse. The half-broken structure now leaned precariously to one side, creaking ominously with every shift of the wind.

"Don't worry, boss! I've almost got it!" she called out.

"No, you don’t!" Naruto yelled back. "Get away from that before you hurt someone!"

Gojo, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, was grinning ear to ear. “This is amazing. It’s like watching a live-action comedy.”

Geto, watching the chaos unfold, addressed Naruto’s ire. “You are aware they’re all just… you, right?”

Naruto groaned even louder, sinking to a crouch with her hands over her head. She attempted to mentally will her clones into being less… her.  "Don't remind me."

She shook her head before clapping her hands together, gaining the clones’ attention. “Alright, listen up! You guys stay behind and finish cleaning up. Make sure everything’s neater than when we found it. And no slacking off!”

A chorus of half-hearted groans echoed back at her.

“Ugh, fine.”

“Man, I hate being responsible.”

“Why did you even summon us, then?!”

Naruto bristled, not even bothering to respond as she turned away to retrieve her personal weapons scattered across the grounds.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

With the action behind them, the group soon made their way back to the shrine’s walled entrance, where the paved road met civilization once more. The tour bus had long since departed, leaving two sleek black cars waiting instead. Their assigned drivers—Tokyo Jujutsu High’s ever-reliable personnel—were casually chatting, leaning against the vehicles as they awaited their return.

As the group approached, one of them glanced up. “All set?”

Naruto stretched, rolling out her shoulders with a satisfied sigh. “Yep! Thanks for waiting Oji-san!”

Gojo threw an arm around her shoulders, leaning in with a grin. “Dibs on riding with Naruto.”

Naruto, completely unbothered by the physical contact, merely grinned up at him. “Great! The more the merrier, right, Ijichi?”

Ijichi, whose sense of peace had already been whittled down to near extinction, frowned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be stuck in a car with Gojo. Before he could stop himself, he even voices his concern out loud to the boy. “Er— why?”

The white haired boy’s smile only widened. “To culltivate a mutually beneficial alliance.”

Ijichi pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Geto, ever the responsible one, sighed. “I’ll take the kids back to their homes,” he volunteered, watching as the still-in-awe students eagerly piled into the first car. They bowed and thanked their rescuers profusely before their vehicle pulled away, leaving just three figures standing by the second car.

Naruto made her way to the backseat without hesitation, sliding in and getting comfortable. Ijichi followed, reaching for the door handle—

Only for Gojo to move with suspicious levels of enthusiasm, slipping inside first and planting himself firmly in the seat beside Naruto.

Ijichi froze mid-motion.

…That was strange. Really strange.

Gojo hated the backseat.

For as long as Ijichi had known him, Gojo had always insisted on riding shotgun, stretching his legs out obnoxiously and messing with the AC settings just because he could. The only thing he liked more than controlling the radio was annoying the driver—and now, without warning, he had willingly surrendered that privilege?

Ijichi squinted at him.

Gojo didn’t even glance his way. Instead, he was turned toward Naruto, resting his chin on his palm, watching her with an unmistakable look of amusement.

He narrowed his eyes but ultimately let it go because there’s absolutely no way ge was about to sit in between them. He climbed into the front seat and as he buckled in, snippets of their conversation drifted up from the back.

“...Aren’t you a little too young to be Hokage?” Gojo asked, lounging comfortably, arms stretched across the back of the seat.

Naruto shrugged. “Yeah, I get that a lot. My dad’s got the hat right now, so it'll be a few more years before I actually get it. Doesn’t stop him from handing me a bunch of paperwork though. Practice, he calls it.”

Gojo whistled lowly, lips curling into a grin. “Beautiful, smart, and strong.”

Ijichi groaned internally. 

Oh.

Right.

Not so strange after all.

Naruto, completely oblivious to the flirtation, doesn’t react, distracted suddenly by a certain smell in the air. Her brows knit together in sudden concentration.

“Did someone have spicy miso ramen?”

There was a brief, almost panicked silence from the driver’s seat.

She sniffed again, eyes narrowing. “With chashu… ginger… onion… egg—wait, extra egg?”

Up in the driver’s seat, the Window stiffened, sinking slightly. He hesitated, then blew a puff of air into his palm and took a discreet sniff.

Nothing.

“Uh—yes?” he admitted hesitantly. “That’s… exactly right.”

Naruto beamed.

She all but launched herself forward onto the center console, her expression positively alight with excitement. “See, this guy gets it!“ She twisted toward Ijichi with an expression so full of hope that he immediately braced himself.

“Didn’t you promise food? Like hours ago?” she asked, her voice carrying the distinct tone of betrayal. “Think we could get ramen? I’m starved. So starved I thought about eating a finger! Like, I don’t think I’ve eaten since I left. Well, I did have some cup ramen, but I didn’t finish it because I bumped into some guy—oh, wait, that was you. Sorry again. Anyway—wait, what was I saying?”

Ijichi rubbed his temples. The words go in one ear and out the other as he spared a glance to his watch. It was getting pretty late. Logically, he should turn down the request and head back. But Naruto’s hopeful expression—and the fact that, technically, he had promised—made him hesitate.

If the girl was hungry, the girl was hungry. He did promise to replace her ramen like she’d replaced his shirt and for reasons beyond his comprehension, he felt oddly obligated to uphold it, despite the fact that the entire incident had been her fault.

Before he could answer, a familiar presence beside Naruto shifted expectantly in his seat.

He turned his head slightly.

Gojo, mirroring Naruto’s exact pleading expression, tilted his head toward Ijichi in silent request.

It didn’t take a telepath to know just what he was asking. 

Ijichi felt a deep, weary exhaustion settle in his bones.

“…Sorry, Naruto,” he said finally, forcing a yawn as he stretched exaggeratedly. “I think I wanna head back. I’m feeling utterly…” He trailed off, searching for a word before plucking one straight from her vocabulary. “Pooped.”

Naruto deflated immediately, disappointment written all over her face.

Gojo, ever the opportunist, leaned in slightly. “We could get ramen together?”

Her head snapped toward him. “Really?”

Gojo grinned, reaching for her forearm. His touch was light, casual, but full of promise.

“I’ve never wanted ramen more in my life.”

Something about the way he said it made her eyes brighten again.

She doesn’t respond.

…Wait.

Silence.

Ijichi turned his head.

Oh.

They were gone.

The car door was still closed, and there was a hint of residual cursed energy—meaning Gojo must’ve teleported them the moment he’d gotten her agreement.

Ijichi let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

At least he wouldn’t have to listen to Gojo’s incessant flirting for the rest of the ride.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Gojo was staring.

Not just glancing, not just watching, but full-on, unwavering, absolutely mesmerized staring.

Naruto, blissfully unaware, was crouched a few feet away, carefully sealing the Sukuna finger. A smudge of dirt streaked her cheek, her hands moved with practiced ease, and for some reason, Gojo found himself completely absorbed in the sight.

“Y’know Satoru,” Geto remarked with his infamous eye-smile, “For someone with the best perception in the world, you’re really bad at being subtle.”

Gojo clicked his tongue, finally tearing his gaze away—far too late.

“I wasn’t staring,” he said, which was such an obvious lie that even Ijichi gave him a side-eye.

“Uh-huh.” Geto drawled, unimpressed.

Gojo huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as if that would somehow make him look cooler and not like a guy who’d just been caught openly ogling someone.

…Okay, maybe he was staring. A little.

Unfortunately, Geto caught him. Again.

“Dude.”

“Dude,” Gojo repeated, throwing his head back dramatically. He doesn’t even attempt to deny it this time, gesturing vaguely in her direction, as if that explained everything. “Are you blind?”

“What is it? Her fighting? Her seals? That flashy Rasengan thing she did?" Geto rolled his eyes. “At least I somehow managed not to spend the last five minutes ogling her like a creep.”

Gojo finally tore his gaze away—just to flash a grin at his best friend. "Oh, all of the above, obviously." Then, after a beat, he added, "And also, like… her face."

Geto blinked. "Her face?"

Gojo nodded sagely. "Yeah. I like looking at it."

Geto sighed, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

Gojo tsked. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Geto was just about to respond—probably with something scathing and witty—but before he could, Naruto turned back toward them, stretching as she stood. Her gaze met Gojo’s, and he—on sheer instinct—immediately looked away.

Too fast. Suspiciously fast.

Geto’s smirk deepened.

“No,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with barely-contained laughter. “But I’m having plenty of fun watching your problem.”

Chapter Text

One second, Naruto was sinking onto plush leather seats, Ijichi still looking vaguely traumatized in the front seat.

The next—

Wind rushed past her ears. Space twisted, folding in on itself—before suddenly snapping back into place.

Lights, so many lights. Roaring traffic. The buzz of a hundred conversations overlapping.

The blonde had seen many things in her life—towering mountains, endless forests, hidden villages teeming with life—but this?

This was insane.

A low chuckle rumbled beside her, far too pleased with itself. “Welcome to Tokyo.”

She turned in a slow circle, blue eyes wide as saucers, taking in everything at once—the neon signs blinking in strange symbols, massive billboards flashing moving images, the sheer volume of people dressed in styles she had never seen before.

“Wow,” she breathed, craning her neck to stare at a towering skyscraper in the distance. “Is that a… building?”

“…What else would it be?”

Naruto didn’t answer right away, still drinking in the impossibility of it all. Everything was so loud.

Gojo squinted. Now that he thought about it, just how far out in the sticks did she come from?

Naruto opened her mouth to reply—but before she could get a word out, a loud honk cut through the air.

A rush of wind blew past her, and suddenly, she was yanked backward.

The next second, a sleek black car zipped through the intersection she had been standing in, its tires screeching slightly as it sped down the road.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

“What the hell?!” Naruto yelped, twisting in Gojo’s grip. “What kind of maniac drives that fast when there are people walking around?”

“This is Tokyo,” Gojo said dryly, his grip still firm around her wrist. “That was slow. Also—” he tilted his chin toward the pedestrian light, still glowing red—“we weren’t supposed to cross yet.”

Naruto stared at him, then at the crowd around them, all waiting patiently like they had read the air and understood some secret rulebook she clearly hadn’t gotten.

Gojo gave her wrist another playful tug. “Relax, I won’t let you get run over. C’mon, let’s get some food in you.”

Her gaze flickered to the steady pressure on her wrist. His fingers were long, his grip loose— almost absentminded now, like he’d just… forgotten to let go.

She glanced up at the bustling crowd weaving around them, the sheer number of people moving in every direction making her stomach twist. Without thinking, she stepped closer, readjusting their hands into a more comfortable hold—her fingers curling around his thumb like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A rush of heat crawled up his neck. It wasn’t even a full handhold, just a light, absentminded grip, but somehow, that made it worse.

Like she trusted him without even realizing it.

Clearing his throat, he shoved his free hand into his pocket like this was totally fine. Totally normal. Definitely not something he was going to think about later.

Meanwhile, Naruto was completely oblivious, letting him lead her forward as her eyes darted around, taking in every little thing. The second she spotted the first food stall, whatever lingering wariness she had evaporated.

She darted ahead, tugging Gojo along without a second thought. They bounced between vendors, Naruto moving like a whirlwind of energy, while Gojo trailed behind at a much lazier pace. He watched with thinly veiled amusement as she gawked at everything—skewers of grilled meat, fluffy pastries, golden-brown takoyaki sizzling on the griddle.

There was something oddly endearing about the way she moved, full of purpose but with no clear direction, bouncing from one stall to the next.

Gojo clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

Yep.

Naruto was definitely going to be expensive.

Still, he made a mental note of every dish she’d lingered on, tucking the information away for later— you know, just in case.

“This looks so good,” she murmured, practically pressing her face against the glass display case.

Gojo chuckled. “You droolin’ yet?”

Naruto didn’t even look at him, already moving on to the next stall, completely undeterred. “No. Maybe. Shut up.”

Eventually, she decides on dessert of all things, dango skewer in hand— bought with his money, of course. Gojo Satoru was nothing if not a gentleman.

She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before remarking offhandedly, “Your technique is pretty cool.”

Then, she’d nudged the remaining dango toward him in offering.  

Preening at the praise, he accepted it with a smirk. “Yeah?”  

He took a bite without thinking, savoring the sweet, chewy texture—only for his brain to suddenly halt.

Wait.

His gaze flickered to the skewer, then back to Naruto, who was busy scanning the stalls again, entirely unaware.

She’d… already eaten from this.

That meant—

A ridiculous, flustered warmth shot up his spine.

What the hell? He was Gojo Satoru. He didn’t get flustered over something so childish. And yet, as he slowly chewed the dango, he found himself glancing at her again, his mind now thoroughly derailed.

Naruto, blissfully unaware of his internal crisis, hummed thoughtfully.

“I’ve got a technique like that too—my dad calls it the Hiraishin,” she said, licking a stray bit of syrup from her thumb.

Gojo, still chewing mechanically, willed himself to focus on the actual conversation. “Yeah?”

She nodded, idly twirling the skewer between her fingers. “It’s a space-time technique, but it needs marked seals to work. Yours doesn’t seem to have a limit, or well, does it?” 

He tapped his temple, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to reveal the sharp glint of blue beneath. “Mine works differently. I fold space itself—basically, I decide that one point in space is the same as another, and then I’m there. No need for seals.”  

Naruto’s eyes widened, genuine fascination lighting up her features. “So you can just… teleport anywhere?”

“Well, not anywhere,” he admitted. “It works best with places I’m familiar with. It’s a lot easier if I have a clear target—like…”

He turned towards her, fully intending to elaborate, but the words died in his throat.

Naruto’s gaze hadn’t left his face, drinking in every word like he was explaining the secrets of the universe.  

For the second time that night, words abandoned him.  

People looked at him all the time. They gawked, they admired, they feared, they calculated. But Naruto?

There was no expectation in her gaze, no hesitation. Just curiosity. Interest. Her full attention, focused entirely on him. 

“Like…?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.

Gojo coughed, looking away abruptly.

“A-Anyway,” he said, a little too quickly, jerking his chin toward a stand ahead where red noren curtains swayed invitingly. “That good enough for you?”  

Naruto, easily distracted by the promise of more food, grinned. “Hell yeah!”

With that, she marched ahead, finally releasing his hand—leaving Gojo standing there, fingers curling slightly in the lingering warmth of her touch.

She wasted no time sliding onto a stool, scanning the menu for all of two seconds before calling out, “Two XL miso ramen with chashu, extra egg, and green onions!”  

Gojo blinked. His heart did a weird little stutter.  

Had she just… ordered for him?  

The thought settled oddly in his chest, sending an unfamiliar warmth curling in his gut.  

But then she turned to him expectantly. “What are you getting?”  

Oh.

So… not for him.  

Shrugging off the brief, ridiculous disappointment, Gojo huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he slid onto the stool beside her. “I’ll have the same.”

Naruto grinned, pleased, and Gojo—against all odds—felt a little pleased too.

The ramen arrived steaming hot, the rich aroma of miso broth curling in the air. Naruto wasted no time digging in, her enthusiasm evident in the way she practically inhaled the first few bites. Gojo watched, amused, twirling his chopsticks between his fingers before starting on his own bowl.

And then, before he was even halfway through his first, she flagged down the stall owner and ordered another.  

And another.  

And another.  

Gojo slowed his eating just to watch.

This tiny slip of a girl was devouring XL bowls of ramen like they were cups of water.  

He wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or impressed.  

Naruto barely paused between bites, glancing up only when she caught him staring. “What? Do I have something on my face?”  

Gojo smirked, a teasing tone entering his voice as he replied. “Nah. I’ve just never seen anyone eat like they’re preparing for hibernation.”  

Naruto huffed, puffing her cheeks out slightly. “You try living with a chakra furnace for a stomach and not eating like this.”  

He raised a brow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Naruto paused, her chopsticks hovering mid-air. She glanced up, meeting his expectant gaze. There was no impatience in his expression, just genuine curiosity.

She swallowed, an odd pang tightening in her chest.

So she forced a laugh, dismissive and easy. “Nothing,” she said hurriedly, waving him off. “Just means I burn through energy fast. Part of my Uzumaki genes, ‘ttebayo!”

Gojo’s smirk didn’t fade, but she noticed the slight tilt of his head, the way he lingered on her answer for just a second too long. He didn’t press.

Instead, he shrugged, propping his elbow onto the counter. “Sounds exhausting,” he mused. “If that’s the case, maybe I should feed you more often.”

Naruto laughed, completely missing the deeper meaning in his words. “You’d better. I’ve got a lot of energy to burn. Don’t want me to pass out on you mid-mission, right?”

Gojo smiled, leaning in closer, his voice lowering just a bit. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She grinned right back, unaware of the subtle shift in the air between them, and dug into the next bowl that had just arrived.

“So,” he began between bites, “this Hokage thing. You’re really gonna take over one day?”

Naruto hummed around a mouthful of noodles, nodding as she swallowed. “Mhm.”

He arched a brow. “Can’t imagine you’d wanna be stuck in an office all day.”

“That’s what clones are for,” she reasoned. “I won’t be in an office all day. And, the paperwork isn’t that bad. Well—” she made a face “—okay, it is that bad. But if I have to suffer through it to protect my village, then whatever. It’s worth it.”

Something in her voice shifted—still light, still casual, but underneath it was something steady, unwavering.

Gojo found himself studying her.

Most people he knew, especially sorcerers, didn’t talk about duty like that. Responsibility was often a burden, something forced onto them, something to resent. But Naruto spoke about it like it was an honor. Like she wanted it.

It was… different.

Unexpected.

“You’re really something, you know that, Naru-chan~?”

Naruto blinked up at him, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Gojo smirked, leaning his chin against his palm. “Just thinking ‘bout where I’ll take you next time. Maybe find an all-you-can-eat…” 

Naruto, unfazed, glanced up between bites of ramen, her eyes lighting up. “I love trying new food!” she said, grinning. “But honestly, nothing ever beats ramen.”

“Yeah, ramen’s great. But you know, it’s even better when I’m with you,” he said smoothly, his voice low and playful.

A beat of silence.

“Ramen’s always good though?” Her voice sounded uncertain now.

Gojo, undeterred, flashed her his best charming grin. “True, but the pleasure of your beautiful company makes it a hundred times better.”

Naruto, too busy slurping her bowl clean, doesn’t pick up on the flirtation.

“Sorry, what?”

His heart sank slightly. “I was saying that it’s the company that makes everything taste so much better, right?”

She shrugged in response, her eyes already darting to the stall owner who was preparing another bowl for her.

“I guess it’s more fun to eat out with friends?”

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. Friend?

As if sensing his momentary distress, she grimaced. “Sorry, too soon? I mean, we’ve been getting along so well, and you’re so cool. I know we just met, but I feel like we’ll be such great friends!”

Gojo died a little inside. The playful teasing, the flirty remarks, all leading to... friends?

But as he watched the genuine worry on her face, the way her brows furrowed like she feared she’d overstepped some invisible line, something in him softened.

“Yeah,” he said with a quiet laugh, “You’ve been pretty fun to hang around with too, Naruto.”

Her eyes brightened instantly, and before he could stop her, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in an unexpected, full-on hug. “Yay, friends!” she cheered, her voice pure excitement.

Gojo flailed slightly, caught completely off guard. For a moment, he just stood there, stiff and frozen under the sudden onslaught of affection. Then, with a sigh, he slouched and let himself be crushed by her enthusiasm, muttering weakly,

“Yay…”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Ijichi stared blankly at his doorway, hair mussed from sleep, a dry patch of drool on his cheek, and still sporting that gaudy animal-print tourist shirt Naruto had forced on him earlier. He’d been so exhausted when he got back to campus that he’d barely managed to kick off his shoes before face-planting into bed.

Of course, that peace lasted all of three hours before—

"Yo."

Gojo stood there, grinning flippantly like it wasn’t the dead of the night.

Ijichi, still half-asleep, could only stare. “...What?”

Gojo’s grin widened as he raised a hand dramatically, pausing for effect. “I have come to deliver great news…” He clasped his hands together, then mimicked the flapping of bird wings. “I set thou free.”

Ijichi blinked slowly. “...What?”

“I take this mission off your hands.” Gojo repeated, looking very pleased with himself.

Ijichi, dead-eyed and sleep-deprived, stared at him like he was the biggest idiot alive.

“You mean the mission you were supposed to do in the first place?”

Gojo waved a hand dismissively. “Details, details. The important thing is, you don’t have to worry about babysitting our lovely ambassador anymore. Consider it my grand act of generosity.”

“Is there a reason you needed to tell me this at,” Ijichi glanced at his clock, then back at Gojo. “…four in the morning?”

Gojo shrugged. “Just got back from my date with Naru-chan. What can I say?”

Ijichi’s eye twitched. “Does she know it was a date?”

“Potato, po-tah-to,” Gojo said breezily. “Anyway, thought you should know. You’re free now, my loyal subordinate. Fly, be free.”

Ijichi pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaled deeply, and exhaled through his mouth in a slow, exhausted sigh. “Senpai,” he began, voice eerily calm, “I have class in three hours.”

“You actually study?” Gojo crinkled his nose.

Ijichi gave him a flat look. “Yes. Unlike some people, I take my education seriously.”

Gojo beamed, completely unbothered. “Great then, no need to thank me for saving you from a lifetime of Naruto-wrangling. Now you can focus on your studies! You’re welcome.”

Ijichi opened his mouth—perhaps to yell, maybe to curse—but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the energy. Instead, he just stepped back and slammed the door shut in Gojo’s face.

From the other side, Gojo called out. “Sleep tight, Ijichi~!”

Ijichi groaned into his hands. He was too tired for this. And in four hours, he was going to be even more tired.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The night sky was clear, speckled with millions of stars, and the cool wind tousled the hair of two teens as they sat atop a hill.

Gojo Satoru stretched lazily, his hands tucked behind his head, a peaceful expression encompassing his features.

Naruto, crouched beside him, leaned conspiratorially into his space, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, think we could do that thing again?"

Gojo didn’t even hesitate, nodding absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure.”

It wasn’t until she grabbed his wrist and yanked him to his feet that he blinked in realization. “Wait, what thing—”

.

Two minutes later, their laughter echoed wildly through the night.

High above the city, above the clouds, they plummeted through the air, free-falling with reckless abandon.

“You’re insane, Naruto!” Gojo shouted through his laughter, clutching her hand as they tumbled through the sky. His heart pounded, but not out of fear—out of pure exhilaration. He had long since forgotten what it felt like to just have fun like this.

Naruto cackled in response, twisting mid-air as the city lights flickered below them. “And yet, you were the one who said yes!”

Her face was alight with childlike joy, golden hair whipping wildly around her. She was grinning ear to ear, the most carefree expression he'd seen on her yet.

Gojo found himself watching her more than he watched the city below. His stomach flipped—and for once, it had everything to do with falling.

Chapter Text

Naruto’s official introduction to Yaga came on her first morning at Jujutsu Tech.

She had woken up bright and early—like she hadn’t slept for only three hours. By the time she was ready, Gojo was already waiting outside her door, wearing his uniform but with the jacket hanging lazily off his shoulders. He gave her a once-over as she stepped out, dressed in her usual black-and-orange baggy tracksuit. A frown tugged at his lips.

“…You didn’t bring other clothes?”

Naruto blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean? Of course I did.”

She stepped aside, gesturing toward her bed, where at least a dozen identical tracksuits were scattered about in a pile.

Gojo let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

”Not exactly regulation,” he noted. “But I dig it.”

She glanced at his uniform, then back at her clothes, frowning slightly. “Didn’t realize there was a dress code.“

“There is,” he said, pausing as an idea popped into his mind. Then, he grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it out.”

“Thanks Gojo,” she said, offering him an appreciative smile.

As they walked through the quiet halls, her gaze lingered on their surroundings. It was the first thing she had noticed about Jujutsu Tech—it was quiet.

“Isn’t this a school?” she asked, skepticism creeping into her voice.

“Yup,” Gojo replied. “But we’re at, like, six students and counting. And you’re the only girl here right now. Shoko—she’s another third-year—splits her time between Jujutsu Tech and cram school.”

Naruto nodded, having already noticed that only one other door in the girls' dorm looked like it was in use.

“Cram school?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “She’s trying to get into the medical program at the University of Tokyo.”

Naruto tilted her head, clearly unsure of the significance. 

“…Right.”

The quietness of the school still seemed strange, but it wasn’t as if she minded. She wasn’t exactly one for crowds anyway.

“So?” Gojo asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “How was your first night?”

"I mean, I barely slept— yesterday was just so much fun!" Naruto beamed, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "I can already think of so many things we could do together!"

Gojo’s stride faltered for half a second.

We?

His gaze flickered toward her, unreadable, before he let out a slow breath. He whistled lowly, “Sounds like you’ve got big plans already.”

Her voice carried that same infectious excitement, her mind already running ahead. “Of course, I’ll have to check out the barriers first, but—”

Her enthusiasm was palpable, and Gojo found himself watching her with a soft smile, one he knew he’d never hear the end of from Geto. 

A girl after his own heart and she didn’t even know it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Yaga was sitting at his desk, his gaze heavy and unamused as he sifted through some papers. The tension in the room was almost palpable, but Naruto was too curious to feel anything other than eager.

"Uzumaki, right? Welcome to Jujutsu Tech," he began, his voice neutral but clipped, eyes scanning her critically. "I’ll keep it short— I reached out to an old friend of mine, Ibiki Moreno, who assured me that you were the best the Elemental Nations had to offer in terms of seal mastery.“

Naruto's response was immediate and as bright as ever.

“That’s me! Seal Master, at your service!” She threw a thumbs-up. Her grin never wavered as she stood up straighter, her posture radiating confidence despite the critical eyes of her new superior.

“To be concise, the failure of the Star Plasma Vessel transference last year led to deteriorating barriers around campus.”

Naruto tilted her head at that. Star Plasma Vessel?

When it became clear Yaga wasn’t going to elaborate, she turned toward Gojo in question, but he had his head down, staring at the nonexistent scuffs of his shoes.

Yaga let the silence stretch for a moment, his gaze now fixed on her with something approaching skepticism. "I trust you know what you're doing, considering the circumstances." He glanced at her intently, as if waiting for her to confirm her abilities with more than just words.

“Well, I don’t officially know how to fix your barrier problem yet, but I’m sure I’ll get it sorted in no time ‘ttebayo!” she assured with a few vigorous head nods.

”In the meantime,” he started, reaching under his desk and pulling out a small box. He slid it toward Naruto. “Take the day to get accustomed. I understand this city is wildly different from Konoha. You might find these to be of great use to you.” 

Naruto peeked inside. A bunch of things stared back at her. She could recognize only one thing, a phone, since Ijichi had used something similar the day before. She picked up one particular object, flipping it over curiously. It was a card with her name on it, followed by a whole lot of numbers.

Yaga continued, “You’ll receive a weekly stipend while you’re here, funded by the school. As a minor, you are expected to attend class—“

Naruto squawked in indignation.

“—and if you choose to take on any additional missions, you’ll be compensated accordingly,” he finished, utterly unfazed by the look of horror painting Naruto’s face.

Gojo, who had been listening lazily up until now, suddenly straightened.

“Wait, class?” he echoed, just as surprised. “You’re making her attend class?”

“Yes,” Yaga confirmed without hesitation. “Her father specifically requested it.”

Naruto’s entire body locked up. “M-my father?!” She looked about two seconds away from bolting. “B-but I’m just supposed to—”

Yaga cleared his throat, effectively cutting off her protests, and pulled out a neatly folded letter. With the air of a man used to dealing with difficult students, he adjusted his glasses and skimmed through it before settling on a particular line.

“Ah, here we go,” he said, then read aloud in a dry tone, “‘Naruto is highly capable, but her youth means she still lacks the maturity and life experience to make all the decisions she thinks she can handle. She is prone to impulsive behavior and, at times, a complete disregard for authority or responsibility—‘“ Naruto’s face turns bright red at that. “—‘As such, I ask that she be treated like any other student while under your care. If she claims she doesn’t need schooling, she’s lying. Please do not let her sweet talk, bargain, or, in extreme cases, attempt bribery with food to get out of this.”

Naruto made a strangled noise. “I don’t think you understand, I’m just here to fix the seals, I don’t need to learn anything else!” 

Yaga continues, “‘Furthermore, should she try to argue that she’s “only here to fix the seals” and therefore “doesn’t need to learn anything else,” please remind her that continuous learning is vital, even for a prodigy like herself. And if that doesn’t work…’” Yaga’s lips twitched, ”’simply inform her that if she refuses to attend classes, I will personally fly to Tokyo and escort her to school myself.“

Naruto’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Then—

With a loud, dramatic sigh, she slumped into the nearest chair, scowling like the world had just personally wronged her. “That old, old, old man.”

Yaga’s gaze flicked over to Gojo, who was being strangely quiet. Standing just behind Naruto, the boy was absentmindedly twirling a strand of blonde hair around his finger. The lazy, carefree look on his face faltered when Yaga’s sharp gaze landed on him, looking like a cat that had just been caught in the middle of something it shouldn’t have been doing.

Yaga’s head throbbed in silent frustration.

"Troublesome,"he muttered, the weariness in his voice making it clear that dealing with Gojo—and by extension, everything that followed Gojo—was already beginning to strain his patience.

Gojo made an affronted noise. “I didn’t even do anything!" he protested, hands flying up in mock defense.

Yaga’s eyes narrowed. "Yes… make sure you don’t," he muttered.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Ijichi was dying.

Not literally—though it felt close enough.

His head drooped dangerously low, eyelids struggling to stay open as the clocked ticked and ticked.

Despite the way his entire body screamed for rest, he had still arrived in class 10 minutes early.

“Hey, Ijichi—”

He grunted in response, not even lifting his head.

“How’d your mission go yesterday?” Haibara, bright-eyed and brimming with entirely too much energy for this hour, leaned toward him. The older boy had the audacity to look cheerful.

Ijichi’s headache intensified at the mere thought.

He had tried—tried—to suppress the memories. The airport chaos. The sheer amount of running. The moment he realized Gojo had dumped a VIP escort mission on him last-minute. The cursed encounter that had nearly killed them, only for their so-called ‘diplomat’ to obliterate it like it was a minor inconvenience.

And now? Now he was here, suffering in class after Gojo had yanked him out of sleep in the dead of night for some nonsense that he was too tired to even remember.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ijichi muttered, rubbing his temples.

Haibara winced sympathetically. “That bad, huh?”

“Haibara-san, I met her for five minutes, and in those five minutes, she nearly got me arrested, dragged me into a fight with a special-grade curse, and insulted my taste in ramen.” He let out a hollow chuckle. “And that was before Gojo got involved.”

Maybe he was exagerrating just a little bit, but that didn’t make anything less true than it was.

Haibara snickered. “Sounds like fun.”

Before Ijichi could respond, the classroom door slid open with a sharp, controlled motion.

Nanami Kento entered, looking as put-together as ever. His blond hair was neatly styled, uniform crisp and perfect.

He took one glance at Ijichi, then sighed. “Gojo-senpai?”

Ijichi let out a slow, exhausted exhale.

“Typical,” Nanami hummed, setting his bag down. Then he clicked his tongue. “I told you not to take the mission. He tried lumping it to me too but I managed to say no.”

”What was I supposed to do? He cornered me that morning— I wasn’t even fully out of bed. By the time I was fully awake, I’d somehow consented on a written agreement.”

“Alright, that’s on you for not locking your door,” Haibara pointed out.

Ijichi scowled. “He doesn’t use doors!”

Nanami’s lips twitched the slightest while Haibara laughed. Inwardly, he cursed whatever deity had decided to give Gojo Satoru, of all people, the ability to teleport. Any further comments were drowned out as Ijichi leaned against his desk in his exhaustion.

He wasn’t even sure what the conversation was about anymore.

What they did over the weekend? The answer to question eight? The importance of sleep and why Gojo Satoru should be outlawed from disturbing it?

Whatever they were saying, he wasn’t processing a single word. Not after the nightmare that had been his last twenty-four hours.

His head drooped lower. He was just about to give in and let sleep take him. Just a few seconds was all he needed—

BANG!

The classroom door slid open so violently it nearly flew off its hinges.

Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance.

Standing there, looking significantly more distressed than anyone had ever seen him, was Yaga. But more concerning than that was what he was currently hauling into the room— a large, writhing sack of something screaming and kicking like a demon being forcibly dragged from hell.

The entire class stared in stunned silence.

“Good morning, class,” Yaga greeted, adjusting his sunglasses as though nothing was amiss. His voice was perfectly even, completely unfazed. “Apologies for my tardiness.”

Then he unceremoniously dumped the sack onto the ground.

A loud thud echoed through the room, followed by a dramatic, muffled yell of protest. The fabric twisted, limbs tangling, until—

The sack burst open, spilling out a tangle of orange and blonde.

Naruto flopped onto the floor in a heap, gasping for breath, her wild hair sticking out in every direction.

Yaga dusted off his hands and addressed the class, ”Everyone, this is Uzumaki Naruto and she’ll be a transfer student here for the next couple of weeks.”

Ijichi’s headache returned tenfold.

“YOU KIDNAPPED ME!” she accused, pointing an outraged finger at Yaga as she scrambled to her feet.

Yaga merely sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I escorted you. Since you refused to come on your own.”

He didn’t get paid nearly enough for this.

“I overslept!” she protested.

“We had a meeting this morning, Naruto,” he countered dryly, “You fled.”

“…Temporarily,” she muttered, crossing her arms with a pout.

Silence stretched across the room as Naruto dusted herself off, hands on her hips as she scanned the classroom. Despite her grand entrance, she looked completely at ease, as if this sort of thing happened to her all the time.

Her bright blue eyes landed on the students, recognizing one in particular.

”Ijichi-kun!” she beamed, grinning so wide it could rival the sun.

The sheer warmth in her voice made it impossible for anyone to take offense. Ijichi, despite looking like he hadn’t slept in a century, let out a weary sigh and waved back in defeat.

A boy with messy brown hair and a wide grin leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “So you’re the one who gave Ijichi such a hard time yesterday,” he mused, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Man, I gotta hear about that.”

“I did not give him a hard time,” Naruto huffed. “We had fun, right, Ijichi-kun?”

Ijichi muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘you almost get me arrested’, but Haibara—bless his soul—was already moving on.

“Haibara Yu, second-year,” he introduced himself cheerfully. “Welcome to Jujutsu Tech!”

A blond student with neatly combed hair and an air of quiet irritation sat beside Haibara, arms crossed as he regarded Naruto with mild exasperation—like he was already predicting trouble.

Naruto’s face lit up with an unexpected spark of recognition. “Wait, I’ve heard all about you two. If you’re Yu, then you must be Nanamin!”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Nanami froze in his seat. Slowly, cautiously, he turned, giving her an expression so dry it could rival the Sahara.

“…That is not my name.”

Naruto faltered. “Gojo said—”

“Senpai is an idiot.”

Haibara let out a bark of laughter while Naruto looked genuinely taken aback. “That’s kinda harsh, isn’t it?”

“No,” Nanami deadpanned. “If anything, it’s generous.”

Naruto, surprisingly, didn’t argue further. Instead, she hummed, giving Nanami a considering look before nodding to herself.

“Alright, Nanamin.”

His eye twitched.

“I just said—”

“Good to meet ya!” She stuck her hand out.

Nanami eyed it warily, as if shaking her hand would somehow confirm his fate of dealing with her nonsense for the forseeable future.

“Nanami Kento,” he introduced stiffly, shaking her hand. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disrupt class any more than you already have.”

She pouted. “You sound like an old man.”

Haibara laughed, while Nanami’s eye twitched, again.

Before that debate could escalate, Yaga cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the front. “Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s start with the lesson.”

Naruto groaned, dramatically flopping onto the nearest desk. “Ugh, school.”

Haibara elbowed her playfully. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive.”

Nanami muttered, “Doubtful.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Gojo Satoru had dipped.

Not even five minutes after Yaga’s meeting with Naruto, the white-haired menace had vanished. Poof. Gone. As if he had never been there to begin with.

Geto, who was on his way to class, caught him just as he was about to slip past the campus gates. He looked unimpressed.

“You realize Yaga’s going to kill you, right?”

“Eh, worth it.” Gojo shrugged lazil. “Besides, I have important business to attend to.”

Geto raised a brow. “Which is?”

Gojo’s grin widened.

“Classified,” he said simply, lifting a hand in a lazy salute before strolling off without another word.

His destination?

Shibuya.

Specifically, the tailor shop the school frequently ordered from...

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Naruto who at some point, having overstayed her welcome in Yaga’s office, had wandered over to one of the cursed corpses in the corner of the room. She was poking at the body, eyes wide with fascination and unfiltered interest.

"Naruto," Yaga said, his voice low and weary, “that’s not a toy.”

“You made this?” she asked, clearly intruiged. “It’s so cool! Can I see how it works?”

Yaga blinked. He had expected skepticism, maybe even discomfort. What he hadn’t expected was enthusiasm.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest as he looked at the scene unfolding before him. Glancing at the clock, he surmised he had about thirty minutes before classes would start.

“…I’ll allow it,” he said with resignation, as though he had no choice but to go along with whatever wild turn the morning had decided to take.

Thirty minutes later, Naruto had yet to make any move toward class. If anything, she had fully committed to skipping.

“This is fascinating,” she said, still inspecting the cursed corpse’s limbs. “You’re way cooler than I thought, old man.”

“Flattery won’t work on me. You have class,” Yaga reminded her for what felt like the fifth time.

Naruto waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. I’ll go later.”

“No,” Yaga said, voice flat. “You’ll go now.”

Naruto, ever the opportunist, slowly turned her head toward the open door—then toward the window.

Yaga caught the shift in her expression instantly.

“Don’t.”

“I could just—”

“You won’t.”

“I’m very fast.”

“Naruto.”

Then, in a blur of motion, she bolted—

—or at least, tried to.

Yaga was faster.

Or rather, the cursed corpse she had been tinkering with was.

The second she’d tried to run, it grabbed her ankle and with an undignified yelp, Naruto face-planted onto the floor.

Yaga didn’t wait. He stepped over, grabbed her by the back of her jacket, and in one fluid motion, stuffed her into a large cloth sack— the one provided by the Fourth Hokage for this very specific case.

“Wha—HEY, WAIT—!!”

Naruto squawked in outrage.

“I CAN WALK, YOU KNOW—”

“Too late.”

“I’M GONNA TELL MY DAD!!”

“Please do.”

And with that, Yaga slung the sack over his shoulder and began the long march to class, ignoring every kick, wiggle, and muffled threat that came from inside.

If he had to suffer through this morning, then so did everyone else.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, class wasn’t as useless as she’d expected it to be.

Not that class is usually useless (go to school kids!), but rather, what did she, elite jonin of Konohagakure, have to do with high school of all things?

That still didn’t mean she wanted to actually be here though.

The morning had started off fine—Yaga-sensei had given a lecture on cursed energy, and while it was theoretical, at least it was relevant. Perhaps, it would give her insight on the whole barrier problem. But then, he left to teach the third years. And when he left… so did the interesting part.

Another teacher took over, covering general education subjects. And math—math—was the bane of her existence. It was just like how it was in the Academy. Why did she need to know the exact angle at which a kunai could be thrown to hit its target when she could already do it instinctively?

Even back in Konoha, she had always preferred hands-on training. Sitting still and listening to lectures for hours on end? Agonizing.

Of course, the best part was her new classmates.

From the moment she’d met him, Haibara was glued to her side, bombarding her with questions about seals, jutsu, and—most importantly—whether she could throw him like a kunai.

(It was a very serious discussion.)

And where Haibara went, Nanami followed.

The guy was far too fun to mess with. It was too easy to rile him up, and Naruto was very good at taking advantage of that.

And then there was Ijichi, who had spent most of the class half-asleep.

Watching him turn as red as a tomato though, when Yaga had caught him drifting off was a highlight of her day.

As soon as they were outside, Naruto let out a dramatic groan, stretching her arms high above her head until her bones popped. The sunlight felt so good after being trapped inside for hours.

"I’m beat," she declared, albeit a little dramatically as she slumped against Ijichi. The poor guy nearly buckled under the weight. "This school stuff is exhausting. You guys do this every day?"

"You don’t?" Haibara asked, blinking at her.

"Obviously not," Nanami muttered, unimpressed. 

Naruto ignored him in favor of basking in the warmth of the sun, sighing contentedly.

"Naruto," Ijichi deadpanned as he gave her a flat look, "you slept through the entire second half of the lecture."

"Yeah, but I had to sit still," she shot back,her voice full of exaggerated sincerity, as though that was the real hardship she had endured.

Haibara burst out laughing. "Okay, after knowing you for all of six hours, I’d say that’s pretty fair,” he teased, before continuing, “Anyway, you got any plans? We were thinking of getting food and catching this new movie at the theater."

For a moment, Naruto’s eyes brightened at the premise of food, before dimming. She’d already made plans to meet Gojo by the campus gates when class was over. 

Haibara, ever the enthusiast, pressed on, in an attempt to convince her. "It’s the sequel to Human Earthworm—I know, it sounds weird, but if you didn’t watch the first one, it’s fine. It works as a standalone! It’s about this guy who gets superpowers after being bitten by a mutant earthworm, and—"

"I’m not watching that," Ijichi grimaced, as if he could judge the quality of the movie just from the title.

"I don’t know how you people still have energy left," he muttered, rubbing his temples. “I think I need a nap.”

At that, Haibara turned to Naruto with a bright, hopeful gleam in his eyes.

She paused, her lips curling into a thoughtful frown as she tapped her chin. "It sounds awesome, Yu," she said, her voice dragging a little with reluctance. She sighed dramatically. "But, I think I should check out the campus perimeters first. I mean, it’s why I’m here in the first place, right? The sooner I get it out of the way, the sooner I get to have fun and try every single ramen spot in the city." Her eyes widened at the thought, a starry look crossing her face as she drifted off, imagining bowls of steaming noodles.

Nanami’s gaze flickered to her with surprise, clearly not expecting her to suggest something so... responsible. He stared at her for a beat, blinking as if trying to process the fact that there may be more to the girl than meets the eye.

"Well, if you finish early, I can text you the details," Haibara offered. "You could still make it in time for the movie."

"Text me?" Naruto tilted her head.

"Yeah, give me your phone!"

"Uh—hmm, where’d I put that thing…" Naruto hummed, patting herself down.

The group watched in growing bafflement as she started emptying her pockets. A handful of shuriken. A half-eaten onigiri. A crumpled napkin, printed with the words Ichiraku Ramen. A tiny frog plushie. A handful of loose change—not yen, but completely unidentifiable coins. A single chopstick (???)

Finally, she fished out her phone and handed it to Haibara with a sheepish grin. "Still figuring out how to use it, so… yeah."

Haibara opened it, only to pause the moment the screen lit up.

Her wallpaper was an unmistakably goofy photo—one of those tiny, sticker-like snapshots from a photo booth.

Naruto and Gojo were crammed together in the frame, cheeks smushed against each other. Gojo had his signature sunglasses perched atop his head, grinning wide as he threw up an exaggerated peace sign. Naruto, caught mid-laugh, was holding up bunny ears behind his head. In the next frame—because of course there were multiple—Naruto was puffing her cheeks like a chipmunk while Gojo dramatically pretended to faint against her shoulder.

"Huh." A slow grin spread across Haibara’s face.

When he unlocked the phone, he was greeted by the sight of Naruto’s entire contact list—all two of them.

1. Gojo Satoru LOML :33

2. Old Man Yaga (ಠ_ಠ)

Haibara snorted. "…I see senpai set this up for you."

Naruto leaned over to peek, unbothered. "Oh, yeah. He said I didn’t know how to do it properly, so he helped."

Haibara, grinning, quickly put in his own contact before shoving the phone into Nanami’s hands. "Here, add yourself!"

Nanami looked at it like it was cursed. "I’d rather not."

Haibara added him anyway.

Ijichi sighed but took the phone next, mechanically inputting in his contact. Then, his eyes flickered to the wallpaper, and for a moment, he just… stared. A look of pure exhaustion crossed his face— he looked like he was developing a migraine…

“...You do know what ‘LOML’ means, right?” he asked cautiously.

Naruto frowned, as if trying to remember something difficult. “Legally obligated mentor and lifesaver? I think? Something like that. He’s really taking this whole escort mission seriously, ‘ttebayo!”

Ijichi exchanged a glance with Nanami and Haibara before shaking his head.

There was no saving her.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Despite Yaga’s earlier advice to take the day off and “acclimate,” Naruto fully intended to get work done as soon as possible.

Driving through the city with Ijichi and her late-night outing with Gojo the night before had already filled her head with places she wanted to check out. It wasn’t every day she got to visit an entirely new world, after all. 

When she becomes hokage, how often would she have time for such adventure?

Tch. Maybe she really should have joined Sasuke-teme on his journey of self-discovery or whatever he’d called it. 

Now, she trailed behind Gojo, who had taken it upon himself to show her around the perimeter. Even Yaga had looked schocked when the white haired sorcerer had volunteered for the task during their meeting.

“It’s a part of my mission,” he said in response when Yaga turned questioning eyes to him.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “You mean the one you ditched and passed off to Ijichi?”

”What can I say, Sensei? I’m trying this new thing called ‘being responsible.’”

Though “show” was a strong word—he was mostly strolling alongside her, hands stuffed in his pockets, lazily pointing out weak spots in the barrier.

“You seein’ all this with your magic eyes?” she teased, crouching by his his feet to inspect the seal.

“Six Eyes,” he corrected, grinning. “It's an inherent technique.”

She hummed noncommittally, running her fingers over the seal. “Like a kekkei genkai then,” she noted absentmindedly as she inspected the faded kanji. True to Yaga’s word, the seals were most definitely disintegrating. The further they got from the building Gojo had pointed out as Tengen’s Tomb, the worse the deterioration became.

Naruto huffed. “You guys are a strong gust of wind away from a security disaster.”

“Good thing we have you, then, huh?”

“Damn right,” she muttered, not looking up from her observations.

He chuckled, then nudged her foot with his own. “So? How long will it take?”

She stretched, rolling her shoulders.

“Fixable… it'll take longer than I expected. There’s just so much ground to cover.” She paused momentarily, looking a little defeated as she looked down at the strange layering of the seals atop one another—whoever had attempted maintence of the barrier definitely didn’t know what they were doing.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and a faint frown creased her brow. “Especially now that I have class to attend.”

“How was that, by the way?” Gojo asked, feigning innocence as he looked at her with a teasing glint in his eye.

She shot him a mock glare.

“You weren’t there,” she said accusingly, a hint of betrayal entering her tone. 

“What, miss me already?” He smirked.

“As if,” Naruto scoffed, but a small, involuntary smile lingered on her lips.

”I’m a third year and you’re second, so we won’t be in the same class,” he supplied after a moment, inwardly pleased at the thought she might have actually missed his absence. He doesn’t mention that he’d missed his class anyways— he had a very important task, after all.

”Ijichi’s in his first,” she countered, raising an eyebrow.

”He’s a special case. He’s the only first year so he’s lumped with the other two.”

”Huh. That’s… efficient, I guess?” Naruto said, her lips curling into a half-smile, though she couldn't help but find the arrangement a bit strange.

She stretched her hamstrings, reaching for the sky before dropping her arms and falling into step with Gojo, who had already started walking ahead.

“It gets the job done.” Gojo shrugged, his hands still stuffed in his pockets as they walked. “Jujutsu sorcerers die young all the time. To create a whole new class for just one person would be a waste of time. You’re either strong enough to keep up, or you’re not.”

Naruto’s lips pressed together in a thin line, and the amusement in her eyes faded into something more contemplative.

She frowned slightly, the weight of his words settling on her. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that mentality, but hearing it now, in this context, made her realize just how much it rang true.

The world they both lived in was brutal.

Her gaze shifted to the path ahead, her thoughts drifting. She had seen firsthand how the pursuit of strength could sometimes come at the cost of everything else—whether it was friends, time, or even sanity.

“A system like that sounds like it’s setting people up to fail,” she finally said in response.

Gojo paused, his steps slowing as he sensed the subtle shift in her demeanor. “You think so?” His voice was softer now, with an underlying curiosity, as if he genuinely wanted to know her take.

Naruto didn’t look at him as she continued, “It’s just— you throw someone into the fire just to what? Keep the numbers up?” Her voice carried a slight edge now, the conversation hitting a little too close to home. ”You can’t just expect people to adapt that quickly, especially not in a world like this… In the end, we’re all still kids, aren’t we?”

The air between them seemed to cool as Gojo took in her words. The usual playfulness present in his expression was gone.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice laced with an unexpected resolve. There was an odd heaviness in his gaze, as if some unspoken memory was playing behind his eyes.

Naruto gave him a sideways glance but didn’t respond immediately. She doesn’t press further, letting the silence hang between them as she mulled over the idea of how easily people in this world (and her own) were thrown into danger—  like their lives were just pawns in a game with no regard for their worth beyond their strength.

For a long moment, they walked in silence until—

"Y'know, this reminds me, did I ever tell you about my technique?" Gojo asked, his voice regaining its typical playful edge.

Naruto blinked, a little caught off guard by the sudden change in direction. She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Your magic eyes?” She reiterated once more, teasingly.

And just like that, she found herself being subjected to a full-blown lecture on the intricacies of Infinity.

She had tried not to look too interested, really. But, damn it, the battle nerd in her was practically buzzing with excitement. She couldn’t help but lean in a little closer, her arms instinctively crossing as she listened.

"So…" she began slowly. "You're untouchable?"

Gojo’s smirk deepened, his confidence practically radiating. “Yup, nothing can hit me unless I let it.”

Naruto tilted her head slightly, cerulean eyes narrowed in mock contemplation. “That’s cool and all,” she admitted with a half-smile, but her voice took on a competitive edge. “But I don’t need any fancy techniques to dodge a kunai.”

He stood straighter, a spark of intruige lighting up his eyes.

“Neither do I,” he replied smoothly, tone laced with that familiar cocky confidence.

Naruto’s smirk widened as she leaned forward into his space. The tension between them thickened, and she could feel the familiar stir of anticipation bubbling up inside her.

“Wanna bet, strongest?” she asked lightly, though the challenge was clear in her voice.

A slow grin spread across his face.

He stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made the air aound them feel heavier. With a wanton slowness, almost as if savoring the moment, he placed a hand on the tree beside her head. His fingers brushed against the bark, a subtle yet intimate gesture that brought him inches from her face.

“Oh, I’m all in, Naru-chan,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves. “And I’m expecting a prize for when I win.”

The proximity caught Naruto off guard for just a second—his lingering hand, his scent too close, the warmth radiating from his body.

A light dust of pink spread over her cheeks before she could push the feeling aside.

Before he could dwell on that particular tidbit, Naruto acts.

With the speed of a seasoned shinobi, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. He didn’t even have time to process before she had him spun, his body colliding against hers with surprising force.

In one fluid motion, Naruto had thrown Gojo over her shoulder, her arm swinging him in a clean arc.

He landed flat on his back with a sharp wheeze. The impact left him stunned for a moment, his body sprawling out in the dirt.

His fault really, for deliberately keeping his infinity off around her.

“Who said you’d win?”

Naruto stood tall, her eyes now alight with amusement. She couldn’t help the triumphant smirk that tugged at her lips.

”That’s unfair,” he huffed as he pushed himself off the ground, his hands brushing the dirt off his back. “I wasn’t ready.”

And with a speed that belied his casual demeanor, he closed the distance between them in a blink. His body was a blur of motion, an almost imperceptible shift before his fist was hurtling toward her face.

Naruto’s eyes widened, and she sidestepped just in time, the force of his strike missing her by mere inches. She felt the rush of air against her cheek as he passed, a split-second reminder of how close she had been to being hit.

Gojo, grinning like a cat who'd just cornered a mouse, flashed her an amused look. "No fancy techniques, right?"

"No," she confirmed, her voice upbeat with an excited grin of her own. "Weapons?"

“I’ll allow it,” he replied, his grin never fading.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

An hour and a half after their impromptu spar session, Naruto stumbled into the medical wing searching for bandages. She was in the midst of peering into cabinets when a voice drawled from behind her.

“If you’re looking for painkillers, I’m gonna have to ask you what Gojo did this time.”

The blonde turned to find a young woman with short brown hair, leaning casually against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She couldn’t have been much older than herself, but the cigarette made it seem like so.

Naruto snorted. “What makes you think it’s Gojo?”

The brunette arched a brow.

“…Okay, fair,” Naruto admitted with a wry grin.

The girl smirked and stepped into the room, exhaling a slow puff of smoke before stubbing her cigarette out in an ashtray. “What’s he whining about now?”

Naruto shook her head, amused. “His ‘beautiful face,’— his words, not mine.”

“And he sent you to get bandages?” she asked, clearly skeptical. The boy knew precisely how reverse curse technique worked for over a year now, after all.

“I figured if I didn’t, he’d roll around in the dirt wailing about his tragic injury until Yaga kicked him in the head.”

“That’d be fun to watch.”

Naruto grinned, feeling at ease almost instantly. There was something about the girl’s dry humor and nonchalant attitude that reminded her of home—of Sakura, specifically, if Sakura had a slightly more jaded, sleep-deprived older sister.

“You’re the medic here, right?” Naruto asked, watching as she casually flipped through a medical chart. “Shoko?”

“Unfortunately,” Shoko replied, sighing dramatically. “Only one around.”

Naruto frowned. “That’s insane. There’s no one else?”

“Nope. Just little ol’ me,” she said dryly, popping the ‘p.’ “Jujutsu society doesn’t exactly breed healers.”

Naruto winced. “Yikes.”

“Yup.” Shoko smirked, closing the chart. “So, are you our new barrier fixer?”

“That’s me, ‘ttebayo!” she grinned. “Uzumaki Naruto— gonna make sure you guys don’t get invaded by weird creepy curses while you sleep.”

“Appreciate it.” Shoko gave a lazy salute. “I like my beauty rest.”

Naruto snickered before glancing toward the shelf of bandages, eyes landing on a particular box.

Shoko followed her gaze, then smirked as Naruto pulled out a roll of Cinnamonroll-themed band-aids, its soft white and blue colors reminding her suspiciously of Gojo’s whole aesthetic.

“…Really?” Shoko asked, amusement clear in her voice.

Naruto grinned, twirling the box between her fingers. “If he’s gonna whine like a kid, might as well commit to the bit.”

Shoko chuckled, shaking her head. “You know what? I like you, it’s good to have another girl around. It gets exhausting dealing with the circus act.”

“Oh, I know what you mean. I was basically raised by a bunch of overpowered idiots with impulse control issues,” Naruto chirped in reply.

Shoko laughed. “You’ll fit right in.”

A loud, whiny Naru-chan sounded from outside, the familiar voice ringing out with exaggerated helplessness.

The blonde gave Shoko a sheepish smile, as if apologizing for the nuissance. Shoko simply nodded back at her.

Naruto gave a two-fingered salute before turning toward the door. “See ya later, doc.”

“Good luck with your patient,” Shoko called after her.

Gojo was exactly where she left him, sprawled lazily under a tree, basking in the sun like he had minutes left to live.

Naruto approached, waving the band-aid in the air. “Good news,” she grinned. “You’ll live.”

Gojo cracked an eye open, peering up at her lazily before his gaze flickered to the band-aid in her hand.

A band-aid plastered with really adorable chibi figures of Cinamonroll.

“…You picked this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Naruto shrugged, her eyes darting away momentarily.  “It reminded me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” She drifted off, looking toward the design as she remarked offhandedly, “The white and the blue— it’s cute.”

She didn’t even give him time to process that before she was already moving on without a second thought.

“Hold still,” she ordered, peeling the backing off.

His lips curled into an amused grin as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“What, no kiss for my boo-boo?” he teased, his tone light but with that familiar underlying flirtation.

Naruto froze for a second, blinking in surprise at his words.

Before he could get another word out, her hand shot forward and slapped the band-aid onto his cheek—firm enough to silence him but not enough to actually hurt, a hint of color dusting her cheeks.

Gojo blinked. His mouth opened, then closed.

“There. All better,” she said, a little too quickly.

For a second, Gojo just sat there, processing. Then he lifted a hand to touch the band-aid, thumb brushing over the design.

He let out a dramatic sigh and flopped back onto the grass.

Naruto scoffed. “What now?”

He lifted a hand, draping it across his face. “I just—” he sighed again, exaggerated and wistful.

When he doesn’t continue, she just gave him a deadpan look before abruptly tossing the rest of the band-aid pack at his head.

He caught it with ease.

“…Take your time recovering Gojo.” She turned, already walking away, “I, on the other hand, am trying this thing called being responsible.” She repeated his earlier words with a mock-serious tone.

“Use them wisely,” she added over her shoulder, her grin evident even though she wasn’t looking at him.

Gojo smirked, watching her walk away, then closed his eyes, letting out a content sigh. He stretched out on the grass, a lazy smile tugging at his lips and supposed he ought to let the girl work for once.

The cut had stung, a feeling he honestly wasn’t too familiar with. It’s been a while since he’d bled. Not since—

Well, that wasn’t the issue.

The real problem?

His heart was beating way too fast.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

No matter how many times she got in close, no matter how hard she tried to land a solid hit, she could never quite land the hit she wanted.

Gojo was fast— annoyingly so.

Frustration built in her chest, her breath coming faster as she wiped the sweat from her brow. With a huff, she tugged off her jacket, throwing it aside carelessly. The heat of the day was getting to her, and the weight of the fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin. The jacket hits the ground with a soft thud, revealing tanned arms and a black mesh tank top beneath.

He blinked.

—and that was all it took.

The next shuriken sliced past his cheek, a thin line of red blooming instantly against his pale skin.

For a moment, there was silence.

Gojo slowly raised a hand to his face, his fingers touching the cut like he’d been mortally wounded.

Naruto, from her crouched position, grimaced. “Oh.”

She stalked forward, hands hovering near his face but not quite touching, blue eyes full with mild guilt. It was a little deeper than she’d expected.

“I really thought you’d dodge that one,” she started sheepishly. “Does it hurt?“

Gojo made a choking noise, eyes slightly wide behind his sunglasses.

Not because of the cut.

Because Uzumaki Naruto was looking at him with actual, genuine concern, dazzling blue eyes just mere inches from his own. 

Her brows were drawn together, lips slightly parted in a slight frown, so close that he could smell the faint scent of grass, ink, and ramen clinging to her.

With a heavy sigh, he flopped against the tree, draping an arm across his eyes. “Alas, my tragic demise…”

Naruto’s face scrunched in exasperation. “Oh, come on, it’s just a cut. A really small one. Get up already.”

Gojo staggered back dramatically, clutching his chest. “I can feel my life force slipping away, Naruto—How could you do this to my face? My beautiful face? To me? Your closest friend, your most beloved ally—”

“Beloved?” Naruto echoed, scandalized.

Gojo sighed, ignoring her. “—taken down in the prime of his youth…”

“Gojo—”

“…before he could even fulfill his lifelong dreams…”

“Oh my god, you are ubelievable.”

“…how will the world go on without me?” He peeked at her from under his arm, a sly grin on his face. “Do you regret it?”

Her lips pressed together. “…Yes?”

He grinned. “Wanna make it up to me?”

Naruto sighed. “Do I even want to ask?”

Gojo lifted his arm slightly, gesturing at his face. “Patch me up?.”

Naruto relaxed slightly, rolling her eyes. “Alright, alright. Just… sit tight, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, already jogging toward the medical wing.

Gojo let his arm drop, staring after her retreating form. His grin softened for a split second, but only a split second, before he groaned into the dirt. 

He can’t believe he lost like that. 

That’s it.

He’ll never hear the end of it from Geto.

Or Shoko.

Even Nanami.

And Haibara.

And Ijichi.

And oh god, Yaga too. 

And as if to prove his point…

“You’re an idiot.”

Gojo startled slightly, glancing to the side. Nanami stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching him like he was witnessing the world’s most tragic comedy.

Haibara was practically vibrating with excitement as he turned to Nanami. “Did you see that? She actually hit him! No one ever lands a hit on Gojo-senpai!”

“Since when were you two watching?” Gojo asked with an easy grin.

“Since the moment you started being embarrassing,” Nanami muttered, stepping closer and peering down at him with a flat look. “She sliced your face open and your first reaction was to fall in love.”

“It was a very romantic moment, Nanamin. You wouldn’t get it. You’re too young.”

Nanami gave him a long, unimpressed look. “If she actually stabbed you, you’d probably propose on the spot.”

Gojo snorted, tapping his fingers against his cheek. “…You guys think she’d kiss it better if I asked nicely?”

Nanami rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt, then shot Haibara a look of quiet exasperation. “First Yu, and now Gojo-senpai too. Yu wouldn’t shut up about how cool she is.”

Haibara beamed, entirely unashamed. “Because she is cool! Did you see that last throw? That technique? The way she moved? Man, she’s so—” He gasped, eyes wide with realization. “I should ask her to train with me!”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t.”

Haibara ignored him entirely, turning back to Gojo. “Y’think she’d teach me how to throw like that? I mean, I’m decent, but that was next level! She barely even tried—”

“Yu.” Nanami’s tone was weary. “You’re rambling.”

Haibara huffed but nodded, taking a breath. From the distance, he watched as Naruto came out of the med bay and began making her way to them. After a pause, he turned back to Gojo with a mischievous grin.

“You think she’d patch me up if I asked nicely?”

Gojo scowled, kicking a bit of dirt at him. “Get lost.”

Chapter Text

After finally completing her inspection of the perimeter that afternoon—this time mercifully without Gojo’s constant distractions—Naruto found herself with some rare, blessed free time.

She briefly considered doing something productive. Maybe checking a few things off her mental to-do list. Meditating perhaps.

But she’d already been productive. All day.

That totally counted for something, right?

So naturally…

She pulled out her phone.

Very slowly.

She stared at the screen, thumbs hovering. How did this thing work again?

After opening and closing it twice, pressing the wrong menu button, and somehow calling Ijichi (who she immediately hung up on), she finally landed on the “Messages” screen.

Then, very seriously, she began typing.

One painstaking number-key at a time.

She hit the “4” button twice for “h,” then three times for “i,” backspaced three words because of a typo, then started over with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb.

Naru-chan~: hi wanna get ramen ?

It took her two minutes to type it. Two. Full. Minutes.

The response came almost instantaneously.

Gojo Satoru LOML :3: yes.

Naruto blinked at the screen. That was fast.

Naru-chan~: ok cool

Gojo Satoru LOML :3: common room in 1 hour??

Naru-chan~: ok. that’s the one with the big couch right?

Gojo Satoru LOML :3: the one ur gonna fall asleep on after eating too much? yeah

Naru-chan~: likely

Gojo Satoru LOML :3: cute

Gojo Satoru LOML :3: see u soon princess <3

Naruto frowned at the last message, tilting her head.

“Less than three?” she muttered aloud, squinting. “Is that a threat?”

Ultimately, she shrugged and flipped the phone shut with a satisfied nod.

Ramen? Secured. Technology? Conquered.

She stretched triumphantly.

Meanwhile, across campus, Gojo was staring at his screen, unmoving.

He had already been holding his phone when she texted—because obviously, he had not been scrolling through their photos from yesterday, reminiscing like some kind of lovesick idiot. That would be ridiculous. Absurd, even.

(He had only zoomed in on her smile, like, twice. Maybe three times. Or seven. But who was counting? Certainly not him.)

His eyes darted to the time.

An hour.

That was just enough time to pick the perfect outfit, fix his hair, and maybe—maybe—spritz a little cologne because he had it on good authority (himself) that he smelled amazing.

He threw his phone onto his bed and stood in front of his mirror, turning his head left and right, analyzing every possible angle. This was, after all, a date.

Probably.

Hopefully.

If he played his cards right.

He brushed his teeth once.

Then twice.

Then a third time for good measure.

He smoothed a comb through his hair, testing a sleek, controlled look.

He blinked at his appearance.

Who was he, Nanami?

Without hesitation, he shook his head violently, letting the strands fall into his usual perfectly tousled floof.

Perfect.

Now, sunglasses.

He skimmed through multiple pairs of identical black shades.

He could already hear Naruto’s voice in his head—They all look the same, Gojo. 

She would never understand.

After careful deliberation, he selected a pair with just the right amount of mysterious allure. He pushed them up his nose with a satisfied nod.

His outfit was next. Something cool, but not too cool. Because of course, it had to look effortless.

A light blue button up, one he knew made his eyes pop. He rolled up the sleeves up to the elbow and left the top few buttons undone—casual, effortless, dangerously attractive.

He grinned at his reflection, striking a pose before pointing finger guns at himself.

Yeah.

That was the one.

With that, Gojo Satoru strolled out of his room, every inch the picture of effortless perfection, and made his way to the common room.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Gojo had expected many things when he stepped into the common room.

Maybe Naruto waiting impatiently, arms crossed, foot tapping, ready to scold him for taking forever—despite the fact that he was, objectively, right on time.

Maybe her grumbling about how hungry she was, as if she were moments from withering away, dramatically lamenting the injustice of having to wait even a second longer.

Maybe she’d turn, catch sight of him, and—just maybe—he’d get to see it again.

That fleeting moment.

The way her eyes widened, the slight parting of her lips, the delicate pink flush that crept up her cheeks before she stubbornly willed it away.

He had not expected this.

Naruto stood by the open windows, golden hair catching in the breeze, strands swaying with every slight movement. The sunset painted her in warm hues, casting a soft glow over her figure. And then—

She turned.

And she was wearing a dress.

A dress.

Gojo stopped breathing.

The fabric hugged her frame in ways that felt almost unfair, flowing effortlessly, like even the air around her was conspiring to make her look stunning. The skirt ended at mid-thigh, leaving long, toned legs on full display, and every time she shifted, the hem danced along her skin—just enough to taunt him.

Then she smiled at him.

Bright. Warm. Blinding.

“Hey, Gojo!”

His heart? Gone. His lungs? Vaporized. His soul? Probably ascending.

There was a ringing in his ears. His mouth felt dry. His fingers twitched at his sides because what the hell was he supposed to do with them? Every thought in his head dissolved into static.

Naruto blinked up at him, cheerful and entirely unaware. “You okay? You look kinda... sweaty.”

He forced a breath. Tried to reboot his brain. But instead of something smooth or cool, his mouth betrayed him.

“I think my heart’s gonna beat out of my chest, Naruto.”

Naruto’s brows furrowed, her expression shifting to something genuinely concerned.

“…That sounds like a medical condition.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Shoko?”

Wait—Shoko?

Gojo’s head snapped to the side.

And sure enough—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking way too entertained—was Shoko.

“Arrhythmia,” she supplied flatly, not even looking up from her cigarette.

Gojo scowled. Why the hell was she here?!

Naruto hummed thoughtfully as she addressed Gojo, “…That’s unfortunate. You should probably see a doctor about that.”

Shoko snorted. “He’ll be fine, Naru-chan.”

Naruto nodded, satisfied. “Well, if you say so.” Then she turned back to him, all sunshine and excitement. “Anyways, Shoko-chan and I got to talking, and she’s free tonight too! Isn’t that great?”

Gojo’s eye twitched.

Before he could properly react, another voice rang out—

“Senpai!”

Gojo turned, dread pooling in his stomach.

Nanami and Haibara.

Both standing by the doorway.

He stared at them.

They stared back.

Naruto, still positively beaming, carried on, “Then I remembered Haibara wanted to watch a movie tonight too—” She turned to Haibara, who nodded excitedly. “What was it again?”

“Human Earthworm 2!” Haibara supplied, grinning ear to ear.

“Right, that,” Naruto nodded, looking genuinely interested. “It sounded pretty cool!”

Gojo stood there, expression frozen in sheer, unfiltered disbelief.

What.

The.

Hell.

He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to throw an outright tantrum.

He shot a glance at Shoko, who was watching him with an infuriating smirk, fully aware of what was happening.

His gaze flickered to Naruto, still smiling, completely oblivious to his internal crisis.

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Great,” he muttered, voice devoid of any actual enthusiasm. “That’s so great.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Gojo watched forlornly as Naruto and Haibara giggled over something, leaning in to whisper to each other conspiratorially. Nanami, walking beside them, had the faintest smile playing at the corner of his mouth, clearly entertained by whatever nonsense they were up to.

The movie had been an absolute disaster.

And by "movie," Gojo wasn’t just talking about the film—though, don’t get him wrong, it was a flaming pile of garbage. No, he was talking about the seating arrangement.

Naruto had decided, completely without regard for his personal feelings, to sit directly between Shoko and Haibara, much to his and Nanami’s silent displeasure (Nanami because he’d ended up stuck right next to Gojo).

The white haired boy tried to play it off, but he couldn’t even do the classic “yawn and stretch my arm around her” move. Not that he hadn’t tried to throw that maneuver on Nanami just for the fun of it—only to receive a flat, deadpan stare that could’ve fried an egg.

It was a tactical failure.

And then came dinner. Oh, the dinner. Gojo had been all set to treat Naruto to something special. He was going to pay for her meal, just her, maybe throw in a compliment or two. But of course, the universe had other plans, and he ended up footing the bill for the entire table.

At least he had the consolation of hearing a cheerful, “That’s sweet of you, Gojo!” from Naruto.

She called him sweet.

A win is a win.

He glanced back at them now, still caught in their own little world, and couldn’t help but watch. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from her. And then, his gaze flitted to the people around them, the way some of the guys couldn't help but stare, trying (and failing) to be subtle.

He clenched his jaw.

“What's with the long face, Satoru?” Shoko asked as she leaned in, her mocking frown matching the amused twinkle in her eye.

Gojo scowled at her, straightening his posture and pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. “I’m just... admiring the scenery,” he muttered under his breath, but his eyes didn’t leave Naruto for a second, lest one of those lingering gazes decide to actually do more than look.

Shoko’s eyebrow quirked, and her smirk widened. “Ah, yes. The view featuring my dress and your emotional crisis.”

He scowled.

“You should be thanking me, Satoru,” Shoko said with a light grin. “I’m the one helping her settle in—gave her the rundown on dressing the part and even lent her my dress. Cute, right?”

Gojo opened his mouth to fire something back—something witty, sharp, deflecting—but all that came out was a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

Shoko sipped at her soda noisily, entirely unbothered.

Gojo glanced back at Naruto just in time to see her toss her head back laughing at something Haibara said, the movement making her hair catch the light like a halo.

She moved with that effortless grace of someone who didn’t even realize how stunning they were.

And of course, some guy walking his dog nearly walked into a lamppost staring at her.

His eye twitched.

“Looks like someone’s stealing the spotlight tonight,” Shoko murmured around her straw, clearly savoring his agony.

Gojo’s fingers twitched, the cursed energy in his palms itching for something to do. He could rewrite the laws of space, shatter reality if he felt like it—and yet, here he was, losing a battle to some rando with a Shiba Inu.

Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and forced a grin like it wasn’t physically painful.

“As long as I’ve got her attention,” he said, chin tilted like he hadn’t just been burning a hole in the side of Haibara’s head with sheer psychic rage. “I’m good.”

Shoko raised a brow. “Do you, though?”

He shot her a look. The kind that said I know what you're doing and I don't like it. But before he could muster a retort, his eyes betrayed him—flicking right back to Naruto.

Still grinning, still radiant, still chatting with Haibara and Nanami like she’d known them her whole life.

As if sensing his stare, she turned.

She tilted her head at him. Her bright eyes met his with a question lingering in them as she untangled her linked arms from Haibara and Nanami, and wandered over.

“What's up?” she asked, her voice warm, as if she could tell something was on his mind. “You look weird.”

“He’s experiencing a moment of profound self-discovery,” Shoko chimed in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

Naruto frowned. “Oh. Should I… do something?”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Probably.” Shoko gave Gojo a parting pat on the back. “Good luck with that," she muttered, then wandered off with the second years, looking far too pleased with herself.

He rolled his eyes at that, though his lips still curled slightly, unable to find himself to be truly irritated as Naruto fell into step beside him. Their shoulders bumped together every now and then in an unspoken rhythm, one neither of them seemed to acknowledge as they walked.

After a beat, he muttered with a slight hint of frustration, “If I had a yen for every guy that turned his head at you tonight, I’d be rich.”

Naruto blinked at him, then huffed as she flicked the hem of her dress.

”I knew it, I look weird, don’t I? Shoko-chan went on this whole rant about my ninja sandals and said my tracksuit was a war crime, and I didn’t think it was that bad, but I thought—ugh, maybe I should’ve just—”

Gojo cut in quickly, almost without thinking. “No! You look…” He paused, trying to find the right word, the one that would come off cool but also convey exactly how much he meant it. “…pretty.”

She faltered in her step. Just a little.

Her fingers stilled on the fabric of her dress, and she turned her head away from him, her features scrunching in confusion.

For a brief moment, Gojo thought maybe he’d said the wrong thing. But she doesn’t acknowledge the comment, much to his dissatisfaction.

Instead, she shrugged it off casually. “… You’re already rich, aren’t you? So the whole ‘if I had a yen’ thing doesn’t really work.”

He snorted in response, shaking his head. “It’s a phrase, Naruto.”

“Oh.” She gave him a sideways glance, her expression thoughtful for a moment. “...Well, what would you spend the money on?”

“…A wedding ring, probably,” he quipped, his grin widening.

The corners of her mouth twitched. ”Nice, I hope Suguru says yes.”

Gojo stopped dead in his tracks. “I—what?”

She was still walking, her eyes dancing with mirth, but there was a slight flush of pink creeping onto her cheeks—an odd combination of teasing and embarrassment.

“I—” He stammered, but the words stuck. She was looking up at him with that little mischievous grin again and all Gojo could manage was a wide, dazed grin of his own.

He caught up fast, his hand brushing against hers, heart somewhere in his throat as they walked in tandem. 

“You’re weird, ‘ttebayo.”

“You’re the one who thinks Suguru’s getting a ring,” he shot back, but his smile was unmistakable.

Her laughter was warm, and Gojo couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on air, despite the absurdity of it all. He kept pace beside her, taking the lead as they continued down the street.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

By the end of the week, Naruto had become something of a local celebrity at Jujutsu tech.

She didn’t mean to be. Hell, she wasn’t even trying. But somehow, everyone seemed to gravitate toward her—maybe because she was always laughing, always ready to jump into a conversation,  offer help, or drag someone along on a spontaneous errand. There was a brightness to her, the kind that filled up a room like sunlight after rain.

Much to Gojo’s eternal suffering.

Every time she laughed at someone else’s joke, he’d clutch his chest like he’d been shot. Whenever she threw her arm around Nanami or linked elbows with Haibara, he’d sigh dramatically and bemoan how cruel the world was for letting them steal “his spotlight.”

Of course, Naruto didn’t notice any of this.

She was far too busy trying to juggle her schedule, her work on the barrier, and the daily challenge of keeping up with Tokyo’s chaos. Mornings were spent studying seals or trying to make sense of the jujutsu barrier’s unstable structure. Classes came next, where she sat in with the second years and Ijichi. Then, after school, she usually ended up spending time with them—especially Haibara (though by extension, Nanami as well), who’d somehow become her unofficial study buddy.

Strangely enough, her “legally obligated mentor and lifesaver” was turning out to be far more responsible than he’d initially seemed. Many days consisted of him going off to solo missions— ‘perks of being the strongest,’ he’d said with a wink.

True to his word, he made quick work of his missions, always returning by sunset and grinning like he never left.

Tonight however, was different.

Gojo had been called out for an emergency mission, leaving Naruto to fend for herself for the first time since arriving at Jujutsu Tech. She’d been a little disappointed at first—not because she missed him or anything (definitely not)—but because his absence meant no free meal tonight.

At least, that’s what she thought until Shoko strolled in, eyes gleaming as she held up a shiny black card between her fingers.

“Gojo’s treat,” she said with a sly smile.

What followed was a rather chaotic trip to the grocery store after Nanami, ever the pragmatist, made an offhanded comment about the unnecessary expense of eating out when home-cooked meals were objectively superior. Naruto, naturally, took this as a challenge.

Somehow, she had managed to rope Nanami—the expert cook—and Haibara—his enthusiastic assistant—into making dinner.

Which led them, inevitably, to the battlefield known as: the kitchen.

Nanami, standing at the stove with the patience of a saint (or a man clinging to his sanity by a thread), pinched the bridge of his nose as he eyed Naruto critically.

“I said simmer, Naruto— simmer. Not incinerate.”

Naruto looked down at the blackened crisps of garlic, mushrooms, and spinach she was meant to ‘sauté,’ then back at Nanami with an apologetic grin. “Uh… extra flavor?”

“Get out of my kitchen.”

Haibara snickered as he expertly flipped a pan of stir-fry. “Wow, Naruto, I didn’t think anyone could be worse than Gojo at this, but you’re really giving him a run for his money.”

“I resent that,” Naruto grumbled, pulling off her apron and dusting flour from her sleeves.

Which was weird. They weren’t even using flour.

Ijichi, hovering nervously at the kitchen’s edge, tried to play mediator. “Maybe if you just—uh—lowered the heat?”

Shoko blew a lazy puff of smoke. “Or just banned her from the stove altogether.”

“You shouldn’t smoke in the kitchen,” Ijichi muttered halfheartedly.

“I’m not smoking in the kitchen,” Shoko corrected, giving him a lazy smile. “I’m smoking near the kitchen.”

Ijichi looked like he wanted to argue, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the energy. With a sigh, he muttered something about health regulations and slinked away, leaving Shoko to stretch lazily before making her way to the common area where a certain blonde dejectedly laid in wait.

Shoko had to stifle the laugh that threatened to spill at Naruto’s disheveled appearance. Somehow, the blonde had managed to get flour everywhere—on her shirt, her arms, and even her face.

“Well, well,” she drawled, eyeing the mess. “Looks like the kitchen won that fight, huh?”

Naruto scowled, wiping at her cheek, only to smear more flour across it. “Nanami kicked me out.”

Shoko’s smirk widened as she reached out, casually flicking a bit of flour off her nose. “You got a little something—”

Naruto huffed, swatting her hand away, which only made Shoko laugh harder.

Their voices rang through the common area, the warmth of their chatter spilling into the corridor where a lone figure was passing by.

Geto Suguru entered the common area, looking like he had just gotten back from a mission. His uniform was slightly rumpled, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a hint of dried blood on his collar—not his own, Naruto noted absently, or else Shoko would have already dragged him to the med wing.

He walked past the couch without much reaction, his expression distant, as though his mind was elsewhere entirely.

“Hey, Suguru!” Naruto called over her shoulder, still dusting flour from her clothes. “Any requests? Nanami’s cooking.”

Geto turned slightly, blinking at her as if surprised she was addressing him.

His gaze flickered to Naruto, then to the kitchen where Haibara and Nanami were arguing about what kind of sauce would suit their dish better.

His expression didn’t change.

“Nah,” he said softly. “Not hungry. Maybe next time.”

He offered a faint smile, more habit than emotion, and disappeared down the hall.

Naruto frowned after him.

“…Does he always seem that... I don’t know. Tired?”

For a moment, Shoko didn’t answer. The lazy grin on her face dimmed, just a fraction.

“He’s been busy,” she said, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. She exhaled, then murmured, “Y’know, missions and stuff. Then he’s too exhausted to ever really hang out… I don’t think he’s been eating much lately.”

Naruto’s frown deepened.

Before she could dwell on it further, the door suddenly burst open.

”Honey, I’m home!”

The unmistakable voice of Gojo Satoru rang out, dramatically announcing his return as if he’d been gone for years.

Naruto turned toward the doorway just in time to see him strike a ridiculous pose—one arm outstretched, sunglasses perched atop his head, looking as if he expected a round of applause.

Naruto, not missing a beat, beamed. “Hey, welcome back! You’re just in time for dinner, ‘ttebayo!”

Gojo grinned, striding into the room with the confidence of someone who’d done absolutely nothing to help prepare said dinner.

Nanami didn’t even look up. “No one invited you.”

Unbothered and overjoyed, Gojo flopped onto the couch beside Naruto like a starfish claiming its rock. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He leaned in, squinting. “Is that flour in your eyebrows?”

Naruto nudged him—perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Shut up, I got kicked out before I could redeem myself.”

Shoko, lounging beside Naruto, exhaled a puff of smoke. “She burned the water, Satoru. Water.”

Naruto groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Can we please talk about something else?”

Gojo hummed, tapping his chin. “Sure, sure. Let’s talk about how much you missed me.”

The blonde tilted her head at him. “But you’ve only been gone for, like, two hours?”

Gojo froze for a beat. Then, his lips wobbled dramatically. “You counted?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “She was stating a fact, dumbass.”

Gojo ignored her, clutching at his chest as if Naruto’s words had touched him. “Naru-chan, if you missed me that badly, you could’ve just said so~.”

“Um, right…” She blinked.

And before she could react, Gojo suddenly leaned against her, flopping his head into her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Narutooo, do the thing?”

Shoko raised a brow. “Really?”

He sent her a stink-eye. “I’m exhausted, Shoko.”

Naruto, used to this sort of dramatics from him already, absentmindedly reached down and began to run her fingers through his hair.

Gojo let out a pleased hum, eyes fluttering closed. “Soft, right?”

Naruto continued carding her fingers through his snowy locks. “Yeah, your hair’s really soft. Softer than Pakku’s even.”

Gojo’s smirk faltered. He cracked one eye open. “…That’s a male name.”

Naruto nodded. “Yeah.”

Gojo sat up immediately, scandalized. “Who’s Pakku?”

“Oh, he’s my sensei’s dog.”

Gojo blinked. Then pouted. “…You’re comparing me to a dog?”

Naruto shrugged. “He’s a really soft dog.”

Gojo gaped. “Take that back.”

She gave his head a light pat. “Down boy.”

Gojo blinked at her, mouth opening and closing in disbelief. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “Alright, since you insist, I’ll tell you my secret. I have a seven-step hair care routine. First—””

Shoko, who had been watching this entire exchange with increasing incredulity, raised a brow at Naruto’s rapt and geunuine attention to Gojo’s seven step hair-care routine. It raises even further when Gojo suggestively offers to try it on Naruto. 

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “God, she’s dense.”

Gojo slumped back into Naruto’s lap with a huff. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Naruto frowned. “Tell you about what?”

Shoko and Gojo exchanged a long look.

Shoko exhaled, standing up. “I need another cigarette.”

Gojo, still sprawled, flopped a hand over his face. “And I need a miracle.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Geto stepped out of the shower, running a towel through his damp hair as he walked down the dimly lit hallway toward his dorm. The quiet hum of the night settled around him, suffocating in its stillness.

He’d brushed his teeth once.

Twice.

Three times.

The bitter taste still lingered, clinging to the back of his throat like something rotting.

It never really went away.

As he rounded the corner, something caught his eye. A tray sat outside his door, its contents covered with a cloth, and a small note was placed neatly beside it. He paused, narrowing his eyes, then approached it cautiously.

Geto crouched down, his fingers brushing the note as he read it. His expression remained flat, as always. The note itself was hastily scrawled in messy handwriting, but he could know that chickenscratch writing from anywhere.

“Promise it’s rly good and if not, I’ll take u to ramen, and if u still don’t like that, I’m bringing out the big guns. We’re going to Ichiraku.”

It was from Naruto.

If one couldn’t tell by the atrocity she called her hadnwriting, then it was the promise of ramen, of all things.

For a second, Geto just stood there, note in hand, staring at the tray like it was something foreign, something he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to.

Then, without a word, he picked it up, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

In the quiet of the common rooms, Shoko sought out Gojo with a mission in mind.

She found him lounging on the common room couch, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, flipping through a manga with his long legs propped up on the table.

"Hey, Satoru."

Gojo barely looked up. "Mm? What’s up?"

Shoko smiled, slow and calculated. "You should lend me your card."

That got his attention. His head snapped up, suspicious. "Hah?"

She hummed, plopping down on the armrest. "I was thinking of taking Naruto out shopping. You know, help her settle in, make her feel welcome— poor girl’s been wearing the same two sets of clothes the whole week…"

Gojo perked up immediately. "Oh! Yeah, yeah, of course—" He reached into his pocket without hesitation, retrieving a sleek black card with his name inscribed in silver. "I should have thought of that myself, actually."

Shoko blinked at how fast he handed it over, but accepted it without question, tucking it safely into her pocket.

"…Wow. That was stupidly easy."

He made an affronted noise, but before he could retort, Shoko was already walking away.

"Anyway, thanks, sucker."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Later that day, in the grocery store, Nanami’s sharp gaze lingered on the black card in Shoko’s hand.

"…And he just handed it over?"

Shoko smirked. "Told him I’d take Naruto out for a nice night. Practically threw the thing at me."

Nanami deadpanned. "Noted."

Chapter Text

Naruto sat on her bed, engrossed in a manga, her legs curled underneath her as she flipped through the pages with a contented smile.

Poof!

A burst of smoke exploded beside her pillow.

Startled, Naruto yelped and snapped her manga shut, shoving it under a precarious stack of textbooks while she frantically shuffled her scattered homework into Formation B—also known as “Make It Look Like I Was Totally Studying.”

Sage-bright yellow eyes blinked at her from the cloud of smoke.

“Oh. It’s just you.” She relaxed immediately.

“‘Sup, Kosuke,” she said, deadpan, before flipping to the next page like giant summoning toads were a regular inconvenience.

The toad stared at her, unimpressed. His wide mouth pulled into a grumpy frown.

“Your father sent me to check on your progress. It’s been exactly two weeks since your arrival.” He sighed, long and weary, like a salaryman asked to work unpaid overtime. “…He misses you.”

Naruto blew a raspberry in response. “He’s the one who practically banished me here!”

Kosuke grumbled under his breath about "ungrateful kids" and "stress-induced molting" before fishing a scroll out from… somewhere. (Naruto had learned long ago not to ask about amphibian storage.)

With a flourish, he dropped the scroll right onto the precarious stack of books beside her bed. It teetered dangerously for a moment before toppling over, sending manga and mystery novels alike sliding across the floor.

Naruto stared at the pile, expression blank. Then she looked back at Kosuke.

He offrered nothing in retribution.

Naruto huffed and finally set her manga aside. She picked up the scroll and cracked it open, a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth despite herself.

It was sloppily sealed, a telltale sign her father had been too impatient to send it properly. Probably didn't even use a full chakra binding.

Kosuke crossed his arms—or at least, did the toad equivalent. “I’m under strict orders to wait for a reply. Preferably one that doesn’t include excessive threats or doodles.”

“No promises,” she said cheerfully, already reaching for a brush.

A series of light knocks tapped against the door—barely a warning before it swung open.

Instinct kicked in again.

She lunged for her textbook, stuffing her manga between the thick pages with all the grace of a panicked raccoon. She cracked the book open to a random section on different types of cursed spirits, schooling her face into something resembling studious innocence.

And there he was—Gojo Satoru, standing in the doorway with that signature smug grin plastered across his face.

“Oh," Naruto said, relieved. "It’s just you."

She promptly tossed the textbook aside like yesterday’s laundry and flipped her manga open again, utterly unfazed.

“Naru-chaaaan~” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful teasing.

His eyes wandered lazily around the room—only to land on the large, unimpressed toad perched beside Naruto’s bed.

Kosuke blinked slowly. Gojo blinked slower.

Finally, Kosuke cleared his throat with great dignity. “Ahem. Naruto-sama. The response?”

Naruto tucked her brush behind her ear and, with a practiced flick of her fingers, unsealed a small scroll from the storage seal inked along her forearm.

Kosuke watched with a skeptical squint.

Without ceremony, she handed him a neatly rolled letter. "Here. Already wrote my report."

Kosuke accepted it with a raised brow, obviously surprised. She flashed him a smug smile that said you should expect nothing less.

He gave a deep, formal bow—remarkably dignified for a creature that could and would eat a moth whole—before vanishing in a small puff of smoke.

Gojo's gaze lingered on the dissipating cloud longer than necessary, his sunglasses slipping a little down his nose. He looked suspiciously thoughtful for half a second… before shaking his head and dismissing the whole thing like it wasn't worth the brain space.

Instead, he sauntered forward and held out a sleek black shopping bag—the kind fancy enough that you definitely kept it, its handles tied neatly with an eye-catching orange ribbon.

Naruto blinked, her curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

“For you,” Gojo announced, looking entirely too smug.

Naruto’s eyes brightened as she eagerly snatched it from his hands. She had always loved receiving gifts.

With an excited grin, she pulled out the contents—a deep navy uniform, clearly modeled after the standard Jujutsu Tech attire, but with some notable modifications.

“Where’d you get this?” she gasped, a grin spreading across her face. “I love it, ‘ttebayo!”

Gojo smirked, rocking back on his heels. “I may have pulled a few strings.”

Naruto beamed at him, unable to help herself from tacing her fingers over the details. Her gaze darted over the high collar, the sleek lines of the jacket, and the delicate orange buttons fastened asymmetrically on the side. The soft fabric, the refined cut—it was perfect.

“I’m gonna try it on!” she declared, already disappearing into her bathroom in a blur.

Gojo, seizing the moment, casually made his way to her desk, resting his chin on his palm as he waited. He could hear the sounds of rustling from behind the bathroom door, followed by a loud “Ow!”—likely Naruto fighting with the stockings.

Moments later, the door swung open, and there she was, standing in the doorway—

And wow.

The jacket hugged her frame just right, the navy fabric deep and rich against her skin. The sleeves were kimono-style, flowing with her movements, and the jacket hem hit mid-thigh, perfectly paired with a dark blue pencil skort underneath.

But the true beauty of the uniform was in the back.

Embroidered in bold red thread was the unmistakable Uzumaki spiral, a personal touch that made the entire outfit feel like it had been crafted just for her.

Gojo let out a soft sigh, resting his chin in his palm as he admired the sight in front of him. 

Yup. It looked even cuter than he’d imagined.

Naruto, lost in her own reflection, spun in place to admire herself in the mirror. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling with pride. “I really, really love it, ‘ttebayo!” she grinned, clearly satisfied with how the uniform fit her. “It’s comfortable and—” She kicked her leg out in a swift motion, testing the movement before nodding in approval. “Practical too.”

Gojo pushed off the desk and crossed the room, stepping into her space with an easy, fluid motion. Before she could dart away again, he reached out, adjusting the collar of the jacket just slightly—his fingers brushing lightly against the side of her neck.

The touch was fleeting but warm.

Naruto froze for a half-second, her breath hitching slightly—then shook it off, oblivious as always, too excited about the outfit to dwell on anything weird.

“Perfect,” he said, his voice lower than usual as he stepped back, hands in his pockets, pretending very hard that he wasn't having a small crisis over how cute she looked.

Naruto spun again, admiring herself from every angle, joy radiating from her like sunshine. She was so busy admiring the fit, the movement, the way the jacket swished when she spun, that she didn't even notice the way Gojo watched her—quietly, fondly, like she’d hung the damn moon.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Naruto’s favorite part of school had finally arrived— hands on training.

She sat on the bleachers in the gym, her legs swinging slightly as she watched intently. The gym was alive with the sound of fists striking, feet shuffling, and the occasional grunt of exertion.

Right now, her focus was entirely on Geto and Nanami, who were sparring in the mat.

”I thought you said his cursed technique was long range…” Naruto commented under her breath, watching as Geto expertly sidestepped a punch from Nanami, then countered with a brutal strike that sent Nanami skidding backwards across the mat.

Ijichi, sitting nervously beside her, nodded. “It is. He specializes in cursed energy manipulation. He can summon curses to fight for him, but…” He glanced over at Haibara, who wore an amused grin, clearly eager to share more.

“—It’s good to be well-rounded, right? Geto-senpai is the best at hand-to-hand combat,” Haibara added with a starry eyed look.

Naruto’s eyes lit up at that.

Before Haibara could even finish his thought, she had already jumped off the bleachers and was bounding toward the mat with an excited grin plastered on her face.

“Hey, bangs!” she called out to Geto, referring to his distinctive hairstyle. “Wanna spar?”

Geto glanced over at her, an eyebrow arching in amusement at the nickname. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he gave her a small smirk before lowering into a loose but ready stance.

“Sure,” he said, his voice dripping with casual confidence. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Naruto flashed a grin toward a sulking Nanami, who was still dusting himself off. “Don’t worry, Nanamin! I’ll avenge you, ‘ttebayo!”

Haibara watched with an amused smile as Naruto hopped onto the mat with a fierce glint in her eyes. "This'll be interesting," he chuckled, leaning back on his seat.

Just as Naruto and Geto began their sparring match, Gojo entered the gym, and whistled lowly at the scene unfolding in front of him. He leaned casually against a pillar, eyeing the fight with a grin.

Geto moved first.

A blur of motion, his fist cut through the air toward Naruto’s midsection, sharp and deadly.

But Naruto ducked smoothly, the attack sailing harmlessly over her head. Before he could recover, she caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting sharply and using his own momentum to yank him off balance.

Geto staggered, but not for long. His knee shot up in a fast, fluid strike toward her ribs.

Naruto’s eyes widened—but her body reacted faster than her brain. She spun backward, hands hitting the floor as she flipped herself clean out of range, landing in a crouch several meters away.

She charged forward without delay, launching herself into the air with a burst of chakra-infused strength. Her leg whipped out in a sharp arc toward Geto’s head.

Geto, however, was already stepping back, narrowly avoiding the kick by inches. But he underestimated her speed.

Naruto’s foot retracted, and in one fluid motion, she spun her body, launching herself into a flying kick. Geto’s eyes widened, his hand darting out to block, but he was a moment too slow. Her foot collided with his forearm, and the impact reverberated through his body. He staggered back, surprised by the strength behind her strike, but his posture never faltered.

Near the bleachers, Gojo and Haibara both watched in stunned silence.

And then—simultaneously—they exhaled, dreamy and starry-eyed:

“She’s so cool…”

The words floated into the air, overlapping perfectly.

They turned and locked eyes in horror.

A slow, menacing smile spread across Gojo’s face, the kind of smile that made first-years reevaluate their life choices.

“Did you say something, Yu~?” Gojo asked, voice sweet as poisoned honey.

Haibara broke into an immediate cold sweat. “N-no! I—I didn’t say anything at all, Gojo-senpai!”

Gojo’s grin widened slightly, sunglasses flashing.

Haibara looked one second away from bolting for the door.

The two watched in tense silence as the sparring match continued.

Naruto was a blur on the mat, her speed and unpredictability turning Geto’s precise, polished strikes into desperate attempts at tag. She ducked, spun, and weaved with a playful grin, dodging with an ease that made it look like she was just goofing around—while simultaneously making Geto look about as coordinated as a dad trying VR for the first time.

Geto’s expression remained composed, but it was clear he was getting annoyed.

Then, in a flash, he landed a solid hit to her side, pushing her back a few steps.

Naruto staggered, but in a split second, she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Shadow clone,” Ijichi mumbled from the bleachers, eyes wide.

The real Naruto reappeared behind Geto, grinning mischievously.

Before she could strike, Geto anticipated her, spinning to grab her arm and throw her off.

But Naruto twisted mid-air, landing in a low crouch, a wicked glint in her eye.

“Guess it’s time to get serious!” she chirped, fingers flying into a hand seal.

Geto immediately tensed.

“Wait—what—?”

“Sexy no Jutsu!” she declared proudly, and with a burst of chakra and smoke, she transformed.

Standing there, in all her radiant, weaponized glory, was a curvaceous, red-haired bombshell—looking suspiciously like an older, even hotter version of herself, complete with a wink and a scandalous pose.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Geto’s eyes widened, and like the true gentleman he was, he spun around, covering his eyes with his hand to shield himself from the sight.

“Damn it, Naruto!” he grumbled, his voice cracking embarrassingly as his face turned beet red.

Gojo, still leaning against the pillar, simply… short-circuited.

His gaze lingered for a moment too long before his face flushed a bright red. Then as if realizing the jutsu’s similarity to Naruto,turned an even worse shade of crimson, and slammed his forehead down into his knees with a loud, undignified thud.

A tiny, mortified squeak escaped him as he stayed folded there like a defeated lawn chair, his white hair puffed up awkwardly. Though the occasional twitch of his legs betrayed just how much he was not okay.

Of course, not before he reached out blindly and smacked Haibara across the back of the head to punish him for also being alive during this moment.

Blood threatened to trickle from Haibara’s nose as he tried (and failed) to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

Meanwhile, off to the side—

Nanami, arms crossed, watched the entire disaster unfold with a flat, unimpressed stare.

He exhaled through his nose.

“Idiots,” he muttered, reaching into his bag.

Without even looking, he whipped a small object across the gym—an eraser that struck Naruto squarely in the forehead with a soft plunk.

POOF!

The transformation collapsed, returning her to her normal self.

“Stop doing that,” Nanami barked, exasperated, as Naruto blinked in surprise and rubbed the spot where the eraser hit.

“What?” she whined, pouting dramatically. “It’s a good move, ‘ttebayo!”

Nanami’s jaw tightened.

“It’s a stupid move,” he corrected, his tone filled with the grim patience of someone who had already aged twenty years in one afternoon.

Naruto turned in a slow circle, surveying the room full of stunned, broken boys and one furious Nanami.

Her grin sharpened.

“You guys are way too easy,” she said cheerfully, planting her hands on her hips. “Now—” she spun back to the group, eyes gleaming with dangerous energy, “—who’s next?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The next morning, just as the sun barely peeked over Jujutsu Tech, the sound of clanking, shouting, and... suffering already filled the air.

Out on the training grounds, Naruto was already at it—leading an overly enthusiastic Haibara through a series of brutally intense exercises.

Rock Lee-style.

She’d taken his request for training very, very seriously.

"Alright, Yu!" Naruto shouted, pumping a fist skyward. "Feel the POWER of YOUTH on your side!"

Haibara, already drenched in sweat but still grinning like a maniac, was giving it his all. His legs quivered as he bent into a deep squat, arms struggling to keep his balance.

“YOSH! This is what true strength feels like!” Haibara hollered, riding high on a wave of adrenaline.

Meanwhile Nanami, who had been reluctantly dragged into this workout, was huffing and puffing beside them, trying to keep pace but looking increasingly miserable.

Sweat dripped steadily down his face. His usual neat hair was a wild mess, his tie loose around his neck like a noose of despair.

"I swear, this is… too much," Nanami grumbled, wiping his brow. "What kind of insane person does this at this hour?"

He shot Naruto a flat glare, where she was bouncing up and down with the energy of someone who hadn’t just woken up.

“This is the training of a legendary shinobi I am honored to call a friend!” Naruto beamed. "Lee-sensei says hard work and perseverance lead to unstoppable dreams! YOU CAN DO IT, NANAMIN! PUSH THROUGH!"

Nanami gave her a dead-eyed stare as he dragged himself into the next absurd exercise.

"I’m a jujutsu sorcerer," he panted. "Not a... legendary shinobi. Is there a reason we’re doing these ridiculous lunges… with one leg up?"

"Because Lee-sensei says it builds strength and flexibility!" Naruto grinned, demonstrating a perfect lunge, holding herself steady in a one-legged squat, before popping back up with an energetic bounce. "Come on, Nanamin! You can do it!"

Haibara, on the other hand, was thriving.

"This is awesome!" he shouted, grinning ear to ear. "I’ve never felt so alive in my life! Let’s do more!"

“Yu…” Nanami rasped, hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He shot a skeptical look at Haibara’s sweat-soaked shirt. "You’re really enjoying this?”

"I feel like my body’s going to explode, but in a good way!" Haibara cheered, oblivious to the fact that Nanami’s body was on the verge of collapsing.

Over by the training ground’s edge, Gojo and Geto were watching the chaos unfold. Both leaned casually against the fence, Gojo’s signature grin plastered on his face as he observed the scene. Geto, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow.

“How’s Yu keeping up with this?” Geto asked, genuinely baffled.

Gojo’s grin widened, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously. “He’s a special case. He’ll be running on pure enthusiasm until his body collapses.”

As if on cue, Naruto glanced back toward Haibara, who was still going strong. "Great job, Yu!" she cheered. "Now, time for push-ups!”

Haibara, having no intention of stopping, eagerly dropped to the ground with a grin. “Alright! Push-ups, here I come! How many do I need to do?”

“Eight hundred!” Naruto called enthusiastically.

“EIGHT-HUNDRED?” Nanami stared at her in horror, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re trying to kill us.”

Naruto immediately launched into one-handed push-ups, chirping happily, "Endurance is key! You'll thank me later, ‘ttebayo!" She threw him a thumbs-up with her free hand, utterly unfazed by Nanami’s wide-eyed disbelief.

She didn’t even sound out of breath.

Gojo nudged Geto with his elbow, barely containing his laughter. "We should take notes. This is the most emotion I’ve ever seen from Nanamin."

Geto shook his head. "I’m pretty sure we’re about to witness Yu pass out.”

At that moment, Ijichi wandered out of the building, coffee in hand—and immediately froze at the sight of Naruto’s Bootcamp from Hell.

Without missing a beat, he did a full 180 and power-walked back inside, faster than anyone thought possible. Self-preservation: activated.

Geto shot her a look full of disbelief. "She’s got them whipped. I honestly think she could get anyone to do this."

Gojo’s grin faltered for a brief moment, the words hitting a little too close to home as the tips of his ears turned pink. He recalled doing this exact workout with Naruto just a day ago.

And the day before that.

And the day before that...

He scratched the back of his head. “Well... she is pretty convincing, I guess.”

Geto’s face twisted with mock horror as he turned to look at Gojo. “She got you too, didn’t she?”

“Shut up,” Gojo grumbled, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

And somewhere out on the field, Naruto continued to radiate pure sunshine and chaos, completely unaware of the trail of broken men she was leaving in her wake.

Chapter Text

The steady ticking of a clock filled the quiet office.

Naruto sat cross-legged across from Yaga, but her focus was entirely elsewhere. In her hands, a small cursed doll twitched to life as she fiddled with its joints, poking and prodding at the seams with keen interest.

"You know," she mused, tilting her head as the doll wobbled on spindly legs, "these little guys are kinda cute."

Yaga let out a slow sigh, watching as she casually experimented with his creation instead of focusing on the conversation at hand.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat my work like a toy."

“But it’s so responsive,” Naruto mused, eyes gleaming with interest. “They respond to chakra—or, well, cursed energy—like they have a will of their own. It’s kinda like our puppetry back home, except without needing a direct thread of chakra.”

She gave the doll another prod, watching as it tottered forward unsteadily. “I bet I could get this little guy to throw a decent punch if I tweak it right.”

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose. "Naruto.”

"Right, right.” She set the doll down—only for it to sway slightly toward her, like it had grown attached. She tapped its little head before finally turning her attention back to him. "So, the seals—yeah, I’ve made some progress."

Yaga folded his arms. "Explain."

Naruto perked up. “Turns out it’s not just natural wear and tear. Some of the barrier layers were—uh—janky. Some of the seals were layered weird, like someone patched them without really knowing how they worked. That’s what’s been making them unstable.”

“So you’re saying someone messed with them?”

“Not on purpose,” Naruto admitted, tapping her fingers against the desk. “Could just be old maintenance by someone who had the right knowledge but not the right technique. Either way, I’ve been reworking the structure. Shouldn’t take me much longer to figure out the last part and stabilize everything.”

Yaga nodded slowly. “Good. The barrier’s critical. We can’t afford weak points.”

Naruto gave him a confident thumbs-up. "No worries, I’ve got it handled. I’ll have the last part fixed by the end of the week—sooner if I don’t get distracted."

Yaga gave her a long, flat look.

“…Which I won’t!” she added quickly. “Probably.”

Yaga hummed, unimpressed. "Must I send Gojo on a long-distance mission?"

Naruto blinked. "Wait—what? Why?"

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temples. "Because every time you sit down to make progress, Gojo appears out of nowhere, and within five minutes you’re doing something unrelated and usually absurd.”

Naruto opened her mouth, hesitated, and then shut it.

He... wasn’t wrong.

The last time she tried to reinforce a barrier, Gojo had appeared with an all-important challenge:

A staring contest.

He’d cracked a few seconds in—face flushing red the moment his gaze dipped somewhere slightly lower than her eyes.

Was it a little weird? Yeah. But she won. That was the point, right?

And somehow, that had spiraled into a rooftop parkour race… which devolved into a street food tour… which eventually ended with them eating taiyaki on a swingset at 2 a.m.

"...Okay, but to be fair, that last time was his fault," she defended weakly.

"Every time is his fault," Yaga deadpanned.

Naruto pouted. "That’s not true! Sometimes Shoko is there too."

"That’s not the defense you think it is."

Naruto huffed, crossing her arms. "Look, I promise I’ll get it done. No distractions, no detours. There’s no need to exile Gojo to the mountains or whatever."

Yaga raised a skeptical brow. "Three days. If I check in and find out you’ve spent the whole time letting Gojo rope you into something stupid—like, I don’t know, racing a bullet train—he’s gone."

Naruto groaned dramatically. "You’re so strict, old man!"

"And yet you still call me that instead of ‘Principal Yaga.’"

Naruto waved a hand dismissively. "Titles are a social construct."

Yaga exhaled through his nose. "Three days, Naruto."

"Three days!" she saluted. Then she grinned. "Piece of cake."

Yaga glanced at the cursed doll still leaning toward her, its tiny limbs twitching like it was drawn to her energy. He sighed. "Take that with you before it starts following you around."

Naruto picked it up, cradling it in her palm. "Heh, guess it likes me. Can I keep it?"

Yaga gave her a flat look. "It's not a pet."

"He's kinda acting like one," she pointed out, holding it up so it faced him. The doll twitched, lifting one tiny arm as if waving.

Yaga exhaled through his nose. "Do whatever you want."

"Sweet!" Naruto tucked the doll into her pocket, hopping up from her seat. "Alright, I’ll check in again soon. Don’t miss me too much, old man!"

Yaga sighed as she strode out of the office, already talking to the doll like it was a real companion.

As Naruto stepped out of Yaga’s office, still grumbling about unreasonable deadlines and certain white-haired distractions, she barely had time to register the person in front of her before—

Smack.

Her forehead collided straight into a solid chest.

"Ow—what the hell," she muttered, rubbing her head.

"That’s what I was about to ask you," came a familiar, amused voice.

Naruto looked up to see Geto, watching her with the patient amusement of someone who had already accepted that chaos would greet him wherever Naruto and Gojo were involved. A mission report was tucked under one arm, hair tied back a little more loosely than usual, free hand tucked into his sleeve.

”Oh. Hey Suguru!” She offered him a tired smile.

"You good?" he asked, one brow raised. "Or did Yaga-sensei finally break your spirit?"

Naruto let out a dramatic sigh. "Nah, just gave me a totally unreasonable deadline. And now he’s talking about shipping Gojo off somewhere just so I can get my work done."

Geto blinked. "And that’s… bad?"

"Obviously!" she huffed.

A slow smirk spread across Geto’s face. "Huh."

Naruto squinted. "Why do you sound weird?"

His smirk widened the slightest. "It’s just interesting."

"Don’t give me that look."

"What look?"

"That look like you just figured something out," she accused.

Geto gave her a knowing look but didn’t elaborate. 

"Don’t think too hard about it." He tilted his head at her, pausing for a moment. "You’ll figure it out eventually."

Naruto frowned at him, clearly suspicious—because why did everyone keep saying stuff like that?—but then something shifted in her expression. She paused, eyes scanning him a little closer now.

“…What about you?” she asked suddenly, more gently this time.

Geto blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“You’re never here,” she said, folding her arms loosely. “I mean, I can’t be the only one holding back the chaos. Someone has to help me deal with the idiot.”

He was quiet for a beat too long.

“…Been busy,” he said at last, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Well,” she said, bumping her knuckles gently against his arm, “you should stop being busy. I’ve only got two weeks left, y’know. So if you want to pretend to help me with sealwork later while very obviously not helping, you’re invited, ‘kay?”

“Tempting.” Geto’s lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close—something quieter, steadier. “…I’ll think about it.”

“You better. I’ve got a cursed doll who won’t stop following me, and I’m not emotionally prepared to raise a kid.”

“…I don’t think that’s how cursed dolls work.”

“You don’t know that,” she called over her shoulder, already walking away.

He watched her go, her presence trailing behind like sunlight after a storm.

And for the first time that day, his shoulders eased just slightly.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Naruto lay sprawled on the floor of her dorm, ink brush in hand, brows furrowed in deep concentration. An intricate array of sealing formulas and jujutsu inscriptions stretched across the wooden boards, some fresh with wet ink, others glowing faintly as she tested their structural integrity.

Shoko, meanwhile, was comfortably draped over Naruto’s desk, flipping through a medical textbook with the energy of someone who was technically studying but mostly just waiting for something interesting to happen. A cigarette dangled lazily from her lips, unlit, because Naruto had already threatened to throw her out the window if she even thought about lighting it indoors.

The room was silent, save for the occasional scratch of Naruto’s brush and Shoko’s absentminded page-turning.

“So? You making progress, Seal Master?”

Naruto let out a loud sigh and collapsed onto her back, arms splayed dramatically over the ink-covered floor. “Yes. No. Maybe. I dunno. It’s like, I know what the problem is, but every time I fix one part, another section gets all wonky.”

She gestured vaguely at the mess of seals around her.

Shoko peered down at her. “Sounds frustrating.”

“It is,” Naruto groaned. “But also kind of… fun?”

Shoko smirked. “That explains why you haven’t slept.”

“I did sleep!” Naruto protested, waving her brush in defense.

Shoko lifted a brow. “Power-napping for twenty minutes while face-down in your own ink doesn’t count.”

“Details.”

Outside the dorm, Gojo Satoru sat slumped against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, exuding the kind of dramatic misery only he was capable of. His head lightly thumped against the wood as he sighed—loud and often, like the world had ended and no one had noticed.

From inside, Naruto barely glanced up from her work. “No.”

Gojo groaned loudly, tilting his head back as if she had just denied him oxygen. “But Naru-chaaaaan,” he whined, stretching out the syllables. “You’ve been holed up in there all day! Don’t you miss me?”

Shoko, still sprawled across Naruto’s desk, flicked her eyes toward the door before lazily flipping a page in her book. “You literally saw her this morning.”

“And yet,” Gojo intoned, pressing a hand to his chest, “it feels like a lifetime.”

“I’m in the middle of important sealwork. If I let you in here, you will touch something, and then I’ll have to redo hours of work.”

Gojo huffed, resting his chin on his knees.

”When have I ever—“ Gojo began.

Shoko and Naruto both turned to the door in eerie unison.

“Yesterday,” Shoko deadpanned.

“When you walked across the ink barefoot and smudged half the array,” Naruto reminded him.

Gojo waved a hand dismissively. “That was one time.”

“Three,” Shoko corrected.

”It’s like you want me to stay here forever,” Naruto sighed dejectedly, dragging a sleeve across her cheek. She was supposed to be finished by the end of the week—then it was back to Konoha, back to Ichiraku, back to normal. Sue her, she missed home.

A sudden silence came from the other side of the door.

Shoko snickered to herself.

“I have to stay here for another two weeks because of you y’know,” Naruto lamented. “I could’ve been home by now.”

Behind the door, Gojo pressed his lips together, doing his absolute best not to grin.

“I’m so sorry,” he called out sweetly, voice muffled through the door.

“Whatever,” Naruto muttered, reaching for more ink. “You owe me ramen.”

“So maybe I get a little too close to the action,” he allowed.

“And that’s why you’re outside,” Naruto shot back. “And I suggest you stay there, unless you want Yaga to ship you off to Africa or Kami knows where.”

Gojo groaned again, collapsing dramatically against the door like a cat thrown out into the rain. “This is so cruel. Just let me sit in the corner or something! I won’t even talk!”

Shoko snorted. “I’d actually pay to see you be quiet for more than five minutes.”

”Don’t you have a mission to do?” Naruto asked, her tone edged with playful reproach as she recalled the mission briefing they’d attended just yesterday.

Why was she even there? Who knew—the boy always had some excuse to drag her along to places she decidedly wasn’t supposed to be.

”This is more important,” Gojo replied, utterly shameless. “It’s a matter of emotional support.”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Emotional support for who?”

Gojo didn’t miss a beat. “Me.”

Naruto just shook her head, grinning. “Tell you what, Gojo. Once I’m done for the night, we can go grab something to eat. Deal?”

He perked up immediately. “Like, just the two of us?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “I’m coming too.”

“Boo.”

Naruto laughed. “Now, go before I change my mind.”

Gojo groaned but ultimately peeled himself off the floor. “Fiiiine. But don’t keep me waiting too long, Naru-chan~.”

And true to her word, Naruto really did call him a few hours later.

He appeared instantaneously, of course, and the three of them made their way to a cozy local restaurant.

It was somewhere between the appetizers and Shoko’s second drink that Gojo noticed something deeply—profoundly—unsettling.

Something that kept nagging at him during their conversations, something that, once he noticed it, he couldn't un-notice.

Naruto called everyone by their first name—or worse, a nickname.

Everyone.

"Shoko-chan," she’d say, slinging an arm around Shoko’s shoulder like they’d known each other for years.

"Yu!" she’d call out enthusiastically to Haibara, who beamed every time.

"Nanamin," she’d chirp, utterly unfazed by how much it clearly grated on Nanami.

Geto, who barely said two words some days, had been “Suguru!” from day one.

Even Ijichi wasn’t spared—she’d dubbed him Ijichi-kun from the start, despite the fact that Naruto almost never used honorifics. 

But Gojo?

Gojo.

Not ‘Satoru.’ Never ‘Satoru.’

It was starting to feel… personal.

“Say, Naruto,” he said suddenly, his voice smooth but deceptively casual as he set down his chopsticks. “I’ve noticed something.”

Naruto, mid-bite, looked at him. “Mm?”

“You call everyone by their first name,” he pointed out, tilting his head. “But not me. Why’s that?”

Naruto furrowed her brows, chewing thoughtfully. “I do?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Shoko-chan. Yu. Nanamin.” He stressed that last one like it physically hurt. “Even Suguru.”

Naruto shrugged. “Dunno. Before I met you, everyone just called you Gojo. When I got briefed for the mission, they said I’d be meeting Gojo. Ijichi called you Gojo-senpai. The first years too. It just… stuck, I guess.”

“Tch. That’s such a lame reason.”

Naruto blinked. “It’s a reason.”

He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, but his usual smug confidence had shifted—just a little.

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, “if even Ijichi gets a kun, and Nanami gets a pet name he hates, I feel like I’m being unfairly singled out.”

“You wanna be called Gojo-kun?” Naruto asked, genuinely trying to be helpful.

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Close… but not close enough.”

(Okay, maybe he did kind of like how it sounded coming from her. Just a little. But he had a bit he was committed to.)

She raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you want me to call you?”

He leaned in, his usual confident smirk turning just a touch more playful, more teasing.

“You’re special, Naruto,” he said with a smooth drawl, his voice lowering just enough to make it sound strangely coaxing. “I’d like it if you called me Satoru~”

Naruto tilted her head, considering this for a moment. Then, with a simple nod, she said, “Okay, Satoru.”

Gojo blinked.

Wait.

She actually said it.

And suddenly, he was the one feeling weirdly flustered about the whole thing.

His heart thumped a little faster, his brain spinning through a thousand thoughts, none of them remotely coherent.

“Huh,” he murmured.

Naruto gave him a confused look. “You asked me to, didn’t you?”

Completely oblivious to his internal crisis, she simply popped another piece of food into her mouth, entirely unaffected.

Gojo, however, was suddenly very aware of the fact that he wanted to hear her say it again.

He turned in his seat, eyes locking onto her. Then—without warning—he reached out and interlaced their hands together.

She squawked in surprise, dropping her dumpling onto the counter, her chopsticks rattling on the surface forgotten.

”Okay, say that again? But, like… slower this time~”

She tilted her head at him. “…Satoru?” She offered, confused. Then, after a beat, added, “—kun?” like she wasn’t sure if that’s what he wanted.

His grin returned in full.

“Well, now that we’ve broken the ice,” he said, voice dropping into a conspiratorial drawl, “feel free to say it as much as you like. Really. I don’t mind. In fact, I think it suits you when you say it. Satoru~—see? Rolls off the tongue.”

Naruto stared at him. “Why are you saying your own name like that?”

“For reference,” he replied smoothly. “You know. In case you forget.”

“I literally just said it like ten seconds ago.”

“And it was beautiful,” he said without missing a beat. “Changed my life, actually.”

Shoko snorted into her drink.

Gojo leaned back, still smiling. “You have a gift, Naruto.”

Naruto, unbothered, reached for a new pair of chopsticks with her free hand. “I am the child of prophecy.”

He rested his chin on his hand, still watching her like she hung the stars.

There was a beat.

A long sip, a clink of ice, and then—

“Are you done?” Shoko asked, deadpan. “Like—are you finished making me a third wheel, or are we still doing the live performance of Flirting for Dummies?”

Naruto blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry, who invited you anyways?” Gojo turned to her, utterly unfazed. “Don’t be jealous, Shoko. There’s still time to join the Satoru fan club.”

Shoko gave him a dead look. “I’d rather floss my brain.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Long after Shoko had excused herself—having thoroughly exploited the opportunity for free food—Gojo and Naruto found themselves at a quiet street stall, seated side by side, munching on dango under the warm glow of paper lanterns.

Naruto hummed in satisfaction, happily chewing on her skewer, swinging her legs a little off the bench.

Gojo watched her with amusement and something far softer beneath the surface.

“You’ve got something on your lips,” he said smoothly.

Naruto blinked and licked the corner of her mouth. “Did I get it?”

“Nope.” A beat. “Want me to get it for you?”

She tilted her head. “Huh? You got a napkin or something?”

Gojo’s grin faltered for half a second. “That’s… not what I meant.”

”Well, what did you mean?” She squinted at him, puzzled.

Gojo had a terrible habit of leaning in way too close when he talked to her.

Like now—he was practically nose-to-nose, lips quirked in a lazy grin. “I mean…”

Naruto didn’t even flinch. Just stared, one brow raised. “Yeah?”

He smirked. “Y’know, normally when I do this, people get all flustered.”

“Why?”

Gojo deadpanned. “You—Naruto, I’m invading your personal space.”

“Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “I thought you just had bad depth perception.”

He groaned and leaned back, hands dragging down his face. “You’re ruining the date.”

Naruto paused mid-chew. “Wait… this is a date?”

Gojo wiggled his brows. “Could be~”

She tilted her head. “Huh. Weird. I thought dates were for people who like like each other. I guess friends go on dates too?”

Gojo was pretty sure he could hear the sound of his own heart breaking into a million sparkly little pieces.

Naruto, meanwhile, cheerfully reached for her second skewer. “Thanks for the dango, by the way.”

”Anytime,” he croaked—stupidly, helplessly.

A beat passed. Then—

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, dango stick in hand, “you’re kinda like… like if Ichiraku Ramen were a person.”

Gojo blinked. “Hah?”

”Yeah!” She turned to him with a warm, sincere smile. “Like, you’re always around, and you make things fun.”

“Naru,” he said slowly, “you’re comparing me to a restaurant.”

She frowned, confused by his lack of enthusiasm in what she thought was the greatest compliment anybody could ever possibly recieve.

“It’s my favorite restaurant.”

Gojo let out a long, strangled groan and dragged a hand down his face. “Please stop trying to compliment me. It’s physically painful.”

“I am complimenting you! I’m being nice, Satoru,” she stressed, stabbing her skewer in his direction like she was scolding a stubborn puppy.

His heart did another pitiful little skip at the sound of his name and he dropped his face into his hands in despair.

“You’re destroying me,” he muttered into his palms.

“And you’re being rude,” she huffed, returning to her food with righteous indignation, like he was the one being difficult.

Gojo sighed and leaned back on the bench, eyes lifting to the star-scattered sky above.

How—how—could someone so terrifying in battle, so sharp in every tactical decision, be this emotionally catastrophic?

One day, he thought. One day she’ll realize.

…Hopefully before he dies of old age. Eighty years from now. Alone. Clutching a photo of her and a half-eaten skewer.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Back in the ink-streaked quiet of Naruto’s dorm room, Shoko was still lounging across the desk like she had no intention of moving anytime soon. Scrolls, brushes, and half-finished seals littered the floor where Naruto sat cross-legged in focused concentration.

When Gojo finally left—after several groans, a dramatic monologue, and at least one failed negotiation to sit in the corner—Shoko glanced over at Naruto with an amused smirk.

“You do realize he’s just gonna come back in thirty minutes, right?”

Naruto sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile. “Yeah. But at least I got some peace for now.”

“Naruto…” Shoko began, tilting her head at her. “You do know Satoru likes you, right?”

Naruto blinked, still focused on the last line of a tightening seal. “Yeah, of course.”

Shoko sat up straighter. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah,” Naruto nodded casually. “He likes everybody. He might not act like it, but… isn’t that why he works so hard? He wants to protect his precious people.”

Shoko stared.

Naruto kept working.

Internally, Shoko screamed.

Chapter Text

Gojo wasn’t an idiot.

Okay, scratch that—he acted like an idiot. It was part of his charm. But acting like one and being one were two entirely different things. But, underneath the sunglasses and dramatic flair, he was sharp. Everyone knew it.

But this? This whole Naruto thing?

It was turning him into one.

He’d flirted. A lot. In varied formats.

Subtle teasing? Done.

Open compliments? Check.

Flashy teleportations, dramatic entrances, spontaneous food deliveries, lingering stares, genuinely charming smiles that made even cursed spirits blush?

Nothing. Zilch. Not even a twitch.

Maybe he was losing his touch?

No—no. He had incredible touch. People could write poetry about his touch. Touch was not the problem.

Maybe she just didn’t realize he was interested. Maybe she was just... unbelievably, cosmically oblivious?

But he’d called her pretty. Multiple times. With eye contact. With tone. With sparkles (shoutout to Haibara for special effects).

He had once told her her smile was blinding, and she—she—had the gall to look genuinely concerned.

She’d stepped in, so close he forgot how breathing worked, and gently slid the sunglasses from his collar up onto his face. Fingers brushing his cheek. Sweeping his bangs from his eyes like she’d done it a hundred times.

She’d stood on her tiptoes to do it.

And the worst part?

She had meant it. Like she genuinely thought he might go blind.

Frowning too. Like she hadn’t just left him standing there, blinking through the ghost of her touch, convinced he'd just experienced a spiritual awakening.

It wasn’t a flirt.

It wasn’t charged.

It was… kind.

A sweet, casual moment from someone who clearly had no idea she was walking around with Gojo Satoru’s entire heart stuffed in the pocket of her atrociously orange jacket.

What else was he supposed to do? Wear a sign?

His eye twitched. Violently.

From beside him, Haibara—who had somehow found himself within range of Gojo’s sad boy spiral—patted him gently on the shoulder. “There, there, senpai.”

Gojo let out something between a sigh and a whimper, flopping face-first into the dirt.

Across the field, Nanami stood with his arms crossed, staring at the entire scene with the blank, exhausted stare of a man two seconds away from walking into oncoming traffic.

“We were supposed to be doing drills,” Nanami said flatly.

Haibara nodded, far too somberly for the situation. “Can’t you see he’s going through something?” he hissed at Nanami.

“I’m aware. We’ve also also been standing here for twenty minutes.”

Ijichi, standing awkwardly a few feet away—somehow both a part of this and desperately trying not to be—cleared his throat with the soft terror of someone approaching a wild animal.

“Should I… should I go get Yaga?”

“No,” Nanami said immediately, with the flat tone of a man who had already seen enough secondhand embarrassment for one day. “Absolutely not.”

Gojo groaned louder.

Ijichi adjusted his glasses, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “If… if it helps, Gojo-senpai… statistically speaking… people in your, um… demographic bracket are… highly sought after… in… contemporary dating surveys.”

The group turned to stare at him.

Gojo lifted his head just enough to squint. “…What?”

Ijichi visibly shrank. “I just meant… you’re tall… and, uh… statistically… your face is… considered desirable… by… market standards…” He trailed off, wilting like a dying houseplant.

Haibara gave him a thumbs-up for effort.

Gojo let out an even louder, more wounded noise.

Ijichi turned away, making a silent, desperate mental note to submit another transfer request by morning.

Then—without warning—Gojo suddenly bolted upright like he’d just been struck by lightning, eyes wide with horror.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Wait. Are you saying—No. No no no—am I—am I ugly?”

Nanami, sensing danger, started slowly inching away. But it was too late—Gojo lunged, gripping his shoulders like a mad man.

“Be honest with me, Nanamin. Am I unattractive? Is this a face only a mother could love?!”

“No,” Nanami said automatically, eyes glazed over. “You’re conventionally appealing. In an over-processed, over-confident, emotionally exhausting sort of way.”

Gojo paused. Processing. “…Thank you?” he said weakly.

Nanami huffed grimly.

Gojo nodded solemnly. Then he stared off into the distance, brow furrowed in deep existential dread.

Of course he wasn’t unattractive. That was ridiculous. Objectively. Statistically. By every measurable standard.

Ijichi was right.

He’s tall. Stylish. Powerful. Hilarious. His jawline could cut glass. Even Shoko—after three drinks and a near-death experience—had once begrudgingly admitted that he had “a face.”

So that left… what? What else?

The silence stretched.

And then—

“Perhaps, Gojo-senpai,” Haibara said slowly, voice tinged with the innocent curiosity of someone about to ruin Gojo’s whole day, “she’s… not available at all?”

And that’s when the terrible, horrible, no-good, very realistic thought sucker-punched Gojo straight in the solar plexus.

He choked on air. Actually choked.

“…I’m going to throw up,” he wheezed.

Nanami looked to the heavens. “Please don’t do it near me.”

Gojo released Nanami’s shoulders and slumped dramatically against the wall, as if the very concept of romantic defeat had aged him forty years.

Maybe… maybe she didn’t see him as an option because—oh god—maybe she already had someone.

Back home.

Waiting for her. Writing her letters. Giving her forehead pokes and tragic glances. Someone loyal. Dedicated. Unreasonably good-looking. Some other oblivious, seal-wielding, chakra-wrapped shinobi idiot with the emotional range of a teaspoon and arms she’d already been carried in.

Probably taller than him too, because the universe had a sense of humor.

Because Naruto wasn’t just oblivious—she was loyal.

Fiercely, unwaveringly loyal.

He’d seen it. In the way she talked about her village. The way her voice softened when she mentioned her father. The way she lit up—just a little—whenever she brought up her friends.

Gojo had been so sure that if she did have a boyfriend, he’d know by now. He would’ve caught something—a mention, a wistful sigh, a look.

So what if he was wrong?

What if she was so utterly devoted that she never even considered entertaining someone else’s advances?

That would explain everything.

Why she never flirted back. Why she remained so utterly unfazed by his efforts. Why she smiled at him like he was just some idiot with an overinflated ego and nice hair.

She was taken.

She was taken and loyal, and obviously didn’t believe in emotionally cheating with tall, sexy sorcerers from alternate countries.

“It’s totally possible she’s already got someone waiting for her back in Konoha,” Gojo muttered darkly, like he was narrating his own villain origin story. “Like some… broody… emotionally damaged rival type. Or—or—or a childhood friend with a tragic backstory and good hair.”

Nanami’s eye twitched. “You’re projecting again.”

Haibara tilted his head. “Wait. Are we talking about that Sasuke guy she mentioned last week?”

Gojo stilled.

Then, with the slow, creeping realization of a man witnessing the collapse of his entire romantic narrative, he whispered:

“…What Sasuke guy.”

Nanami sighed long and hard. “Oh boy.”

Haibara shrugged, blissfully unbothered. “Y’know… the one she keeps mentioning when she talks about home? The ‘he’s like family but also I want to punch him in the face’ guy? That one.”

That guy.

Sasuke.

His name alone made something deeply unpleasant stir in Gojo’s chest.

“Family but punchable… that’s… textbook unresolved romantic tension,” he breathed like the words burned his throat.

Ijichi—now halfway across the field and very purposefully examining a patch of dirt—sneezed from the sheer emotional carnage radiating off Gojo like toxic gas.

Gojo crumpled fully onto the ground, face down, motionless. “I’m not a main character in her story,” he muttered to no one in particular.

And for the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru wasn’t annoyed that someone hadn’t fallen for him.

He was heartbroken.

The kind of heartbreak that settled deep in his ribs and refused to leave. The kind that made the air feel heavier. The kind that turned every stupid breath into a personal insult.

So he lay there in silence, bemoaning the cruel injustice of loyalty, fate, and her stupid perfect face, when—

“Satoru!”

Her voice.

Gojo froze, arms still flung over his face.

Naruto stood a few feet away, sunshine incarnate, holding something suspiciously cloth-like in her hands.

“You forgot your jacket,” she said, crouching beside the bench with that infuriatingly stunning smile. “Left it in my room again.”

He peeked out from under his arm, vision blessed by chakra and agony, as he met her eyes, only inches away from his own.

She broke eye contact first, glancing up at the sky like the clouds personally offended her. “It’s gonna rain, y’know.”

Then—without hesitation, without a second thought—she shook out the jacket and leaned in. Close. Way too close. Without giving him time to react, she tugged one sleeve up over his limp arm like he was some sulking mannequin.

Her fingers brushed his wrist.

Skin contact achieved. Internal screaming intensifies.

Gojo’s heart did a full, dramatic backflip and then promptly yeeted itself out of his chest to do the cha-cha slide across the quad.

Her face remained utterly casual. Thoughtful, even. Like this wasn’t sending him into complete cardiac failure. Not a single neuron in her head seemed aware that she was currently dressing the six-foot emotional catastrophe she’d unknowingly reduced to ruins.

And then, just to commit a war crime of sweetness, she smiled again and gently ruffled his hair.

“Even the strongest can get a cold, ‘ttebayo. Don’t catch one.”

Then—just like that—she stood, gave Haibara and Ijichi a cheerful little wave, nodded at Nanami (who looked deeply unimpressed by the entire production), and walked off across the quad with her scrolls tucked under her arm, whistling.

The clouds parted. Angels wept. Somewhere in the distance, a sad violin began to play itself. Gojo sat there, utterly wrecked, clutching his own jacket like it had betrayed him.

Haibara, crouched nearby, scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Senpai… are we still doing drills or…?”

Gojo let out one long, suffering breath and stood, determination slowly starting to replace despair. “Nope. Change of plans.”

“Uh… what plans?”

He just turned on his heel with grim determination and stomped off, leaving behind three very confused, very emotionally exhausted sorcerers-in-training.

Nanami watched him go with dead eyes. “We should’ve let Ijichi get Yaga.”

Ijichi blinked. “Where’s he going now?”

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temples. “To make someone else’s day worse.”

Because Gojo needed answers.

And he knew exactly who to ask.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Are you sick?”

Shoko didn’t even look up as Gojo passed the infirmary for the third time in five minutes. Her voice was flat, skeptical, and seasoned with just the right amount of disdain.

“…No,” Gojo replied, stiffly.

“Mm.” Shoko turned a page on the paperwork she wasn’t actually reading, eyes narrowed in pretend focus.

Silence.

Then—

“Shokooo~”

“No.”

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“I didn’t need to,” she muttered, flicking ash from her cigarette as she leaned against the windowsill. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The look you get when you’re about to rope me into something morally gray and emotionally exhausting.”

“Shoko! What happened to friendship?” Gojo gasped, clutching his chest. “You’re my best friend—“

“Suguru’s your best friend.”

“—my second best friend—”

“That’s still Suguru.”

“—my best girl friend—”

“Also still probably Suguru.”

“Wow, rude.”

Shoko finally looked up at him, unimpressed, but mildly entertained. “Satoru. What do you want.”

Gojo leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I need you to initiate some girl talk with Naruto.”

She blinked slowly. “…Girl talk?”

“You know. Emotional espionage. Girl-to-girl intel. The subtle art of gossip extraction. That thing you people do.”

Shoko gave him the slowest, most withering blink known to mankind. “You people?”

“Women,” he corrected quickly. “Beautiful, emotionally intelligent women with access to life-changing information. I just… I need you to casually bring up her love life. Subtly. Delicately.”

“Satoru,” she deadpanned. “Why do you want to know about Naruto’s love life?”

“I don’t want to know,” he said dramatically. “I need to know.”

“Why.”

“Because,” he said, all wounded pride, “I’ve been flirting like my life depends on it, and either she’s completely immune or she’s already taken. Or worse—emotionally unavailable. I need answers, Shoko.”

“And you want me to get them for you?”

“With grace and discretion,” he said, hands clasped together like she was his last hope.

She took a long, soul-cleansing drag of her cigarette. “And why should I help your desperate, sunken cause?”

Gojo grinned, flashing his best, most shameless puppy eyes. “Because you love me~”

A wicked smirk tugged at her lips. “Funny you say that, because, well, now that I think about it, she has mentioned someone.”

Gojo froze mid-breath. “Wait—what?”

“Mmhmm,” Shoko said, very calmly. “Dark hair. Serious type. Always looking cool. Real emotionally unavailable vibe.”

Gojo’s internal monologue crashed and burned.

“Sasuke,” he hissed.

Shoko blew a perfect ring of smoke into the air, humming noncommitantly. “Could be. He’s quiet. Kind of brooding. Exactly her type.”

“She has a type?!” Gojo squawked.

Shoko looked absolutely delighted with herself.

Gojo groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “You’re evil.”

She grinned. “And you’re desperate.”

A pause.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered. “I’ll owe you one.”

Now that got her attention. Shoko tapped her chin, considering.

“Anything?” she asked.

Gojo hesitated. “…Sure?”

Shoko was a reasonable girl after all. “Deal.”

They shook hands.

He felt strangely uneasy about the way she was smiling.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The café was small, tucked right beside a flower shop off one of Tokyo’s quieter side streets. It smelled like strong coffee and fresh pastry dough, and the windows let in the kind of soft afternoon light that made everything look just a little more forgiving.

Shoko stirred her iced coffee with slow, deliberate apathy, watching from across the table as Naruto enthusiastically devoured a plate of assorted pastries like she was making up for years of dietary neglect.

“You’re gonna choke,” Shoko said, deadpan.

Naruto grinned mid-chew. “S’good.”

Beside her, Geto sat like a hostage. Vaguely stiff. Vaguely suffering. Entirely out of place.

Mostly because he had been manhandled into joining them. 

Naruto, in typical Naruto fashion, had quite literally grabbed his sleeve as they crossed campus and insisted, with zero room for negotiation, that he come along for “coffee and friendship bonding time.” Whatever that meant.

Geto had caved mostly out of confusion. And inertia. And the sheer Naruto-ness of it all.

Now here he was. Sitting at a tiny cafe table. Watching Naruto inhale sugar like it was oxygen. And wondering—quietly, existentially—when exactly his life had devolved into a slice-of-life filler episode.

Still, Geto reached for his tea and took a slow, resigned sip. The kind of sip a man takes when he knows he’s powerless to stop what’s coming next.

Shoko, as usual, seemed entirely unbothered.

Because Shoko hadn’t forgotten why she was here, either.

In fact, she’d planted this entire café visit idea in Naruto’s head three hours earlier.

It had taken less than two minutes.

Just a quiet, offhand comment that morning as they’d all been walking back from training.

“Kinda craving something sweet,” she’d said, stretching her arms over her head like she hadn’t put a single thought into the words.

Naruto had fallen for it immediately. Hook, line, and sinker.

And now here they were.

Shoko took a slow sip of her coffee. Gojo’s ridiculous plea still echoed in her brain like a bad pop song on repeat. Emotional espionage. Girl talk. Subtle inquiry.

Subtle.

Delicate.

Discreet.

Sure, she could do that.

Her gaze drifted—casual, practiced—over the rim of her cup… to a certain corner booth near the window.

Where a fully grown adult man was currently doing the world’s worst job at being inconspicuous.

A black oversized hoodie was cinched all the way up around his head, ridiculous white tufts of hair still poking out from under the fabric like disobedient clouds. Baggy sweatpants. Giant novelty-sized sunglasses that looked like they’d been purchased from a joke store at the mall.

And worst of all—he was facing the wrong direction for a normal customer but perfectly angled for optimal eavesdropping range.

Shoko exhaled slowly through her nose.

God, he was pathetic.

Without so much as a change in expression, Shoko lowered her coffee and said flatly:

”Hey, Naruto. Do you have a boyfriend?”

From across the room, there was an audible, violent choking noise.

The man in the hoodie froze mid-sip of his bubble tea, nearly knocking the straw clean out of his mouth. A few rogue boba pearls sputtered free, launching like tiny, sugary projectiles across his table.

Naruto, none the wiser, choked just as hard on her macaron.

“HAH?!” she wheezed, coughing hard enough to make nearby customers glance over. A few rogue pastry crumbs shot across the table like shrapnel.

Geto, seated across from her, blinked slowly. Then, with all the resigned grace of a man who had already accepted his fate, he lifted one hand and casually wiped a piece of half-chewed macaron off his cheek.

He examined the crumb stuck to his palm like it was the physical manifestation of every bad life choice that had led him to this moment.

With no further comment, he reached for his tea and took a long, suffering sip.

Shoko didn’t flinch. “You heard me.”

Naruto scrambled to swallow, face now a deep shade of pink. “W-what?! Where did that even come from?!”

Shoko shrugged, tone mild as ever. “I’m just saying… must be nice.” She swirled her straw through her drink, eyes half-lidded with fake disinterest. “Having someone waiting for you back home.”

Naruto went even redder, laughing awkwardly as she waved her hands defensively. “Pfft—no way!”

“Really?” Shoko said, tone dry. “No crushes? No fanboys? Fangirls?”

Naruto rolled her eyes. “I think I’d know if someone had a crush on me.”

Shoko glanced at Geto.

Geto glanced at Shoko.

Shoko fought the urge to laugh. She wasn’t sure if she should feel worse for Gojo or for Naruto. 

“Then…” Shoko began anew, voice casual but far too deliberate. “What about that Sasuke guy?”

Naruto blinked. “Huh?”

“You talk about him a lot.”

Naruto wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, flushing again—though this time it was more out of flustered confusion than genuine embarrassment. “He’s… fine, I guess? I don’t really think about him like that.”

“So you’re not dating,” Shoko confirmed, tone light.

“Nope.”

Shoko tilted her head. “But you guys are close?”

“Yeah,” Naruto said, idly poking at a crumb. “We’ve been through hell together. He’s… like family.”

“Not your type, then?” Shoko asked, leaning into the question with practiced nonchalance.

Naruto made a face—the kind most people make after they’d just bitten into a lemon. “Kami, no. Sasuke would rather throw himself off a cliff than go on a date. With me, of all people too.”

She paused, stuffing another forkful of cake into her mouth like it might save her from further embarrassment.

“No one’s ever really liked me like that,” Naruto mumbled around the bite. Casual. Final. Completely unaware of how insane that statement sounded.

Geto paused mid-sip, giving her a slow, disbelieving stare. “That seems… unlikely,” he said finally.

Naruto blinked, tilting her head at him with a crooked grin. “It does?”

Shoko smirked behind her cup. “You say that like it’s surprising.”

Naruto laughed under her breath, but it came out a little awkward. “It used to be.”

The table went quiet for a beat.

Shoko and Geto exchanged a long, slow look over their drinks, both picking up on the sudden shift in her tone.

“I, um…” Naruto began, still not looking at either of them. Her voice softened, losing its usual brightness. “I didn’t grow up in the village. Not really.”

Her fingers kept working at the fabric of her sleeve like she was unraveling a thread that didn’t exist.

“I was honestly so… well…” She let out a short, breathy laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Unliked, that I spent the first thirteen years of my life outside of it.”

Shoko’s gaze softened a little, but she stayed silent.

“My old man thought it was safer that way.” She shrugged one shoulder, still not lifting her gaze. “Less attention. Less… anger pointed my way. So… I trained with the pervy sage until I was strong enough to come back.”

Geto stared at her, brows knitting together. “…I don’t get it,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You’re a Hokage candidate, aren’t you? Your village had to have… voted for that. Supported that. People had to believe in you.”

Naruto gave a quiet, crooked little smile. “Yeah. Now, maybe.” She fiddled with the corner of her napkin. “I spent so much of my life training to become strong. Strong enough that no one could ignore me. And I did. And when the village was under attack, I did everything I could to protect my home—my precious people. I guess after the war… they started to see that too.”

Geto’s frown deepened. His hands curled lightly into fists against the table. “But why?” he pressed, voice low but urgent now. “Why didn’t they accept you from the beginning? You were a kid.”

Naruto hesitated—eyes flicking nervously around like old instincts were telling her to change the subject. For half a second, she looked like she might laugh it off. Deflect. Joke. Move on.

But then… she caught herself. Realized who she was sitting with.

Her friends.

Her first real friends, outside of home. Outside of people who loved her because they had to.

So she swallowed thickly, forced her shoulders to stay relaxed, and said quietly: “Seventeen years ago… the Kyuubi was unleashed on the village.”

Geto stilled.

“A lot of people died that day. Half the village burned.” Her hands twisted harder into the napkin. “That was the day I was born. And that same day… my kaa-chan sacrificed her life to seal him inside me.”

Naruto pushed on, voice steady but distant, like she was talking through a glass wall. “People… they didn’t exactly separate me from the Kyuubi. Not back then. Not when I was a kid. They looked at me and saw the thing that wrecked their homes. That took their friends. Their parents. Their children.”

Geto’s throat felt dry. His gaze flickered down to his hands, noticing—only distantly—that his knuckles had gone white.

“I don’t… blame them.” Her smile this time was thin, small, and brittle. “They were hurting too. Just… in a different way.”

His voice dropped, tighter than before. “But why?”

Naruto blinked at him.

“Why defend them?” Geto asked, staring at her like she’d just said the most backwards thing in the world. His throat felt tight. “Why choose that? Why… be Hokage for a village that hated you? That pushed you out? That made you leave?”

Naruto’s expression flickered—surprise first, then something quieter, more thoughtful.

“Because Kashi-nii became a genin at five…” she said softly. “Because Itachi-kun saw a battlefield at four. Because Sai wasn’t even allowed to have a name and Nagato lost his whole family when he was barely old enough to hold a kunai.” Her smile twisted—tired and sad around the edges. “And because I had to grow up without my mom.”

Geto felt something inside him splinter at that.

But she wasn’t done.

“Walking away would’ve been easy,” she said. “But I didn’t want to be the person who ran from home. Not after spending my whole life trying to get back to it.”

She took a breath and lifted her head, meeting his eyes for the first time since this conversation started.

“If I gave up on them… then what was the point of everything I went through just to get this far?”

Her gaze stayed steady. Clear. Devastating.

“So yeah,” Naruto exhaled softly, “I guess if it means people won’t have to live the way I did… I don’t mind carrying it.”

She smiled like it was the simplest thing in the world.

For a long beat, no one at the table spoke.

Shoko said nothing—her gaze fixed on her coffee, jaw tight, like she was caught somewhere between a sigh and a sob she refused to let out. Her fingers twitched where they rested on the table. For a second, it looked like she might just keep staring at her drink forever.

Geto didn’t speak either. Couldn’t. Mostly because he felt like he was looking at a mirror and a total stranger all at once.

The weight of it sat heavy on his chest—shame, recognition, something bitter and raw that he didn’t want to name.

Shoko, clearing her throat quietly, broke the silence first. She lifted her cup, took a slow, shaky sip of coffee, and muttered—far too lightly for how wet her eyes suddenly looked—“Well.” Her voice came out almost steady. “Guess that explains why people love her.”

Naruto blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Shoko lied easily, waving her off with a flick of her fingers.

But before Naruto could ask again, Shoko stood and, without any warning, leaned over the table and pulled her into a hug.

Naruto squeaked in surprise, arms automatically lifting to return the embrace—more out of instinct than understanding.

“…Shoko?” she laughed awkwardly, voice muffled against Shoko’s shoulder. “Uh… you good?”

“Fine,” Shoko said shortly, holding her just a beat too long, trying very hard not to sound as emotional as she felt.

Naruto only smiled and hugged her tighter anyway—bright, warm, and completely oblivious to how close she’d come to breaking them both wide open.

Just when Shoko finally let go—wiping at her eyes with a muttered grumble about “allergies”—a large hand unceremoniously shoved her face aside.

“Wh—hey!” she sputtered in indignation, nearly biting the offending palm. “What the—?!”

But Gojo was already there.

Before Naruto could so much as blink, she found herself swept up into another hug—this one tighter, warmer, and completely unrelenting.

“Satoru?” she laughed breathlessly, blinking in surprise. “Wait, when did you—?”

But he didn’t answer. Not right away.

Because despite the oversized sunglasses still perched crookedly on his face, and the stupid hoodie barely hanging onto his head, Gojo just pressed his face deeper into her shoulder—like the act of holding her was the only thing keeping him standing upright.

His arms wrapped tighter around her waist, one large hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head with a softness that caught her completely off guard.

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” he mumbled, voice low, warm, and muffled against the fabric of her uniform. “That must’ve been… really hard for you.”

There was no teasing in his tone. No lazy drawl. No playful lilt. Just raw, quiet sincerity—heavy enough to make her blink in surprise.

Naruto froze for half a second—thrown completely by the sudden shift in him—but then, slowly, her hands curled around his back and she held him there. Tight. Solid. No questions asked.

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she smiled anyway—easy and bright like always. “You’re weird today.”

“Yeah,” he laughed softly against her hair. “I guess I am.”

And if she noticed the way his fingers trembled just slightly where they rested against her neck… she didn’t say anything.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The cicadas hummed lazily in the trees, and the path was lit just enough by the soft glow of campus lamps. It was late, and the summer air had that sleepy, warm heaviness to it that made everything feel a little slower, a little softer.

Shoko shoved her hands in her pockets, casually glancing sideways at Naruto as they walked. The blonde was still animatedly recounting something dumb Gojo had done during their day out.

“—and then Satoru actually faceplanted. Into the fountain. Chasing the bubbles. I thought Suguru was gonna pass out from secondhand embarrassment.” Naruto laughed, bright and genuine.

Shoko snorted. “Honestly, I’m more surprised Suguru agreed to come with us at all today.”

“Right?!” Naruto beamed, walking backwards for a few steps as she talked. “Not like he had much of a choice,” she then admitted, a little bashfully.

Shoko hummed in agreement, letting the conversation lull for a bit as they crossed the last small footbridge near the dorms.

They walked like that for a while—comfortable and loose—until Naruto’s steps started to slow, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. Her voice, when she finally spoke again, was noticeably smaller.

“Uh… hey, Shoko?” she asked, hesitating.

“Hm?” Shoko tilted her head, glancing over.

Naruto scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, eyes darting anywhere but at Shoko. “So… why did you, um… bring up something that embarrassing earlier?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “What embarrassing thing?”

Naruto’s face immediately went pink. “Y-you know…” she mumbled, tugging her sleeves over her hands. “The boyfriend stuff…”

Realization clicked. Shoko blinked once, then tilted her head with mild amusement. “Naruto, that’s not embarrassing. Or… it shouldn’t be.”

Naruto still wouldn’t look at her, gaze fixed on a crack in the pavement as they walked. “But it is,” she mumbled, kicking a loose pebble. “I mean… I know things are different now. People… like me more. I have friends. People talk to me. But nobody’s ever really… like, liked me. Like that.”

Her shoulders hunched slightly. “And… I dunno. I guess at our age, most people already have some kind of experience or… something. And I—” she cut herself off, shaking her head, visibly flustered. “Ugh. Forget it. This is so embarrassing.”

Shoko slowed her steps until they both came to a stop under one of the walkway lamps.

For a beat, she just stared at her, letting Naruto stew in her own awkwardness.

Then, with a sigh, Shoko reached out and flicked her lightly on the forehead.

“Ow—hey!”

“Stop that,” Shoko said, dropping her hand back into her pocket. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You’re fine. And for the record?” She gave a slow, knowing smirk. “I’d be way more surprised if no one’s noticed you.”

Naruto scowled at her, but it was weak and embarrassed. “Then…?”

Shoko let the silence stretch, taking her time with a slow drag of her cigarette. “I mean… I wasn’t that curious.”

Naruto blinked. “You… weren’t?”

“Nope,” Shoko said, exhaling smoke toward the night sky. Then she glanced at Naruto with a lazy kind of satisfaction and added, “But Satoru was.”

Naruto froze mid-step.

Her head jerked around so fast she nearly tripped. “…Wait. What?”

Shoko shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “He asked.”

Naruto blinked. Once. Twice. Processing.

Then her frown deepened. “Satoru…?”

Shoko nodded, watching as the wheels very slowly started to turn in Naruto’s head.

The silence stretched.

Then, with all the confident clarity of someone reaching the completely wrong conclusion, she blurted:

“Oh no. He heard everything earlier, didn’t he?” Her face flushed a shade pinker as realization hit. “Is he… is he trying to set me up with someone? Like—because I sounded… lonely or something?”

Shoko nearly choked.

The snort she let out was so sharp she had to cough through it, doubling over as she waved a hand in front of her face. “Yeah… something like that,” she wheezed.

Naruto groaned into her hands. “Ugh. I must’ve sounded so pathetic.”

She dropped her head, kicking at the pavement again, shoulders curling in like she wanted to shrink into her jacket.

“I mean… look at him,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “Satoru probably has… like… tons of experience.”

Shoko’s eyebrow twitched upward. Then, slowly, she gave Naruto the most judgmentally amused side-eye possible. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

Naruto, still obliviously digging her own grave, kept going. “I mean he’s tall, and stupidly good-looking, and ridiculously confident, and really nice. And! And—his teeth are all straight, plus his hair does that annoying swoopy thing like it’s in a shampoo commercial—ugh, whatever!” She flailed a hand dramatically. “I just meant objectively! Like, statistically! He’s probably been on… like… a hundred dates or something.”

Shoko bit back a laugh, barely holding in her grin. “Sure. Objectively.” She paused, savoring the moment. “But no. Satoru has zero experience. Zilch.”

Naruto blinked. “Wait… really?”

“Never had a girlfriend. Never even been on a mutually consensual date—his clan tries to set him up all the time. Honestly? Out of the two of them, Suguru’s way more popular with women.”

Naruto tilted her head, genuinely thinking that over. “Yeah… that tracks.”

Then—she gasped.

Slowly, she leaned forward, whispering as if she’d just uncovered some devastating secret. “…Satoru’s lonely, isn’t he?”

Shoko actually choked this time.

Naruto’s eyes widened like she’d cracked the Da Vinci code. She smacked a fist into her palm with conviction. “That’s why he’s always touching people! The arm around the shoulder, the hand on the head—he’s touch-deprived and lonely! Oh no. That’s so sad.”

Her frown deepened, full of well-meaning, idiotic empathy. Then suddenly—her whole face lit up.

“I know tons of beautiful women!” she declared, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “The kunoichi back home are gorgeous! Does he have a type? Oh—wait—does he like strong women? Or does he want someone more quiet? Ayame-neechan is super sweet! Or maybe—Hinata-chan! Wait—oh man, I gotta introduce him to—”

“Naruto.”

Naruto froze mid-ramble, blinking wide-eyed at the sheer flatness in Shoko’s voice.

Shoko just… stared at her.

Naruto stared back.

“…You’re so dumb,” Shoko finally said, rubbing her temple.

Naruto flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “Wh—hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing,” Shoko said breezily, barely holding back her smirk. “I’ll let Satoru know you’re… eager to help.”

Naruto frowned, but before she could demand clarification, Shoko started walking faster, leaving her behind on the path with her hands still flailing in confusion.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ JUJU STROLL ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ 

The courtyard outside the dorms was quiet—until it wasn’t.

A cardboard box near the commons rustled violently, tipped sideways, and with all the dramatic flourish of a Broadway stagehand mid-costume change, Haibara Yu popped out like an over-caffeinated jack-in-the-box.

In both hands, he held up a giant, hand-painted sign:

“WELCOME TO: GOJO’S LOVE LIFE—A STATISTICAL TRAGEDY.”

Glitter spilled from… somewhere. Possibly the sky.

Nanami, already passing by with a textbook under one arm, froze mid-step. His expression flattened immediately.

“…No,” Nanami said, already tired.

From a bench nearby, Geto looked up from where he was lazily munching on some chips. “Yes,” he said, not even hesitating.

Haibara, still beaming like a game show host on too much sugar and no impulse control, pointed dramatically toward the quad—where Gojo stood.

Or… well. Slumped.

Gojo was face-down in the grass again. Hood up. Sunglasses still on. 

Shoko materialized behind them like a sleep-deprived cryptid emerging from the fog. Cigarette already half-gone, eye bags thriving.

“I was promised snacks,” she deadpanned.

“You’re the host now,” Haibara declared.

Shoko stared at him. Then sighed. “Fine.”

Cue the spotlights.

Cue the theme music.

Cue the applause that sounded suspiciously canned.

Gojo blinked.

When—when had he ended up center stage on a neon-lit game show set?

The sky had gone purple and orange. Glitter curtains framed him on all sides. Giant cardboard cutouts of his own face loomed in the background.

Rows upon rows of shadowy audience members cheered like their lives depended on it, waving glow sticks that spelled out “L” in flashing LED lights.

Gojo squinted against the lights. “…What the—?”

A voice boomed over the intercom.

“Contestant Number One! Nanami Kento—local overachiever and part-time therapist by necessity!”

A spotlight swung hard to the left, revealing Nanami at a podium, dead-eyed and holding a laminated buzzer card. “Against my will,” he clarified in repsonse.

“Contestant Number Two!” The light swiveled right. “Geto Suguru! Resident bad decision enabler!”

Geto gave a halfhearted wave from his podium, still chewing on a chip. “Happy to be here,” he said, with the tone of someone deeply not.

“Contestant Number Three! Haibara Yu! Jujutsu Tech’s residential ray of sunshine!”

Haibara practically bounced behind his podium, waving both hands in the air. His buzzer was covered in glitter and stickers.

“And your host for tonight…”

A final spotlight dropped dramatically on Shoko, dressed in a sparkly, sequin-coated blazer she absolutely did not own in real life. Cigarette still hanging from her mouth.

“Welcome,” Shoko drawled, flipping through a cue card with total disinterest, “to ‘Are You Smarter Than a Love-Sick Idiot? Featuring: Gojo Satoru (Loser Edition)’.”

Gojo opened his mouth to protest—

Confetti cannons exploded over his head before he could say a word.

Shoko’s voice shifted into full fake-upbeat game show mode. “First question! How many dates has Gojo Satoru been on in his entire pathetic, love-lorn life?”

BZZZZZT!

Nanami and Haibara hit their buzzers simultaneously.

“Zero,” Nanami answered on instinct.

“Negative ten!” Haibara chimed cheerfully. “Because Naru-chan doesn’t know they’ve been going on dates!”

The audience roared with laughter. 

“Ding ding ding,” Shoko chimed, shaking a set of tiny sleigh bells she’d found from who-knows-where. “Correct! Zero points for Satoru’s dating record! Moving on—”

Gojo slumped lower in his chair, face in hands.

“Next round: Emotional Intelligence! Contestants, please list any and all moments in the last six months where Gojo Satoru displayed healthy, non-avoidant, emotionally vulnerable behavior!”

Silence.

A cricket chirped somewhere.

The scoreboard behind them blinked to life:

“404: Results Not Found.”

Geto rang his buzzer anyway. “Does crying into his jacket count?”

Nanami barely spared him a glance. “No.”

“What about hair care?” Haibara offered brightly.

Shoko shook her head. “Vain doesn’t count as healthy.”

Nanami let out a long, deadpan sigh. “Then pass.”

“Also pass,” Geto added.

A comically loud buzzer noise blared.

Shoko cackled. “Correct! None found!”

The crowd erupted into meme-like cheering. Sirens wailed. Balloons fell from the ceiling.

Gojo slumped fully onto the podium like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“Question two,” Shoko continued mercilessly. “True or false: Satoru has confessed his feelings to Naruto directly.”

All three contestants slammed their buzzers at once.

“False,” they chorused in perfect, devastating harmony.

“Correct again!” Shoko said, flipping the next cue card. “Our boy prefers dramatic longing, unresolved tension, and emotionally self-destructive spirals!”

Gojo groaned loudly. “Why is this my brain’s version of self-reflection?!”

“Follow up question!” Shoko crowed. “For ten thousand points and one singular shred of dignity: Does Naruto know Gojo likes her?”

The entire audience—including the contestants—slammed their buzzers so hard the lights flickered.

“Absolutely not!” they yelled in unison.

The scoreboard exploded into flashing lights:

“CRITICAL FAIL: NEGATIVE RIZZ.”

Gojo threw his head back, face red with shame, hands over his eyes.

“Lightning round! The topic,” Shoko announced with a flourish, “is: ‘Why hasn’t Gojo Satoru pulled, even once, despite being six-foot-three with a symmetrical face and objectively stupidly good hair?’”

Silence.

A beat of confusion rippled through the audience. Murmurs spread like wildfire. Even the contestants at their podiums exchanged skeptical glances.

Haibara, without missing a beat, raised his hand. “I’d like to use my one phone call.”

Shoko blinked. “Granted.”

Haibara grabbed the bright orange rotary phone that materialized on his podium like a cursed prop from a 90s game show. With all the grave seriousness of a man making a life-or-death call, he dialed.

Ring.

Ring.

“…Hello? This is—”

“IJICHI-KUN! Why hasn’t Gojo-senpai pulled!?” Haibara asked brightly, straight into the receiver, and ignoring all normal social convention. He grinned and squinted at the orange cue card in his free hand, reading it off: “‘Despite being six-foot-three with a symmetrical face and objectively stupidly good hair?’”

A pause. The sound of Ijichi physically blinking through the phone line. Then—

“…Because,” Ijichi began slowly, with the exhausted voice of a man who had been emotionally blackmailed into unpaid therapy hours too many times, “it doesn’t matter how much work you do on the outside… how hard you try to look good, or attractive, or untouchable to others…”

The whole room fell oddly quiet.

“You can change your clothes. Flash your smile. Hide behind jokes and sunglasses. Act like none of it matters. Be the loudest person in the room so no one notices how quiet it feels when you’re by yourself.”

Gojo’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly where he sat.

“Put as many layers on as you want,” Ijichi continued, voice weirdly philosophical now, “but no amount of charm or good hair or ridiculous height is gonna fix what’s beneath. Not if you don’t actually believe you’re worthy of being loved in the first place.”

A soft little ripple of Oofᵀᴹ went through the fake studio audience. Even Geto blinked at the unexpected emotional depth of it.

The fake game show music died mid-note.

The LED sign flickered awkwardly.

Shoko cleared her throat and read off the next cue card with renewed fake cheer. “Thank you for your contribution, Ijichi-kun! Ten points to the existential suffering column.”

The confetti cannons misfired. Directly into Gojo’s face. Glitter. Everywhere. In his mouth. In his soul.

Before he could spit out the taste of rock-bottom—

His phone rang. Loud. Abrasive. Way too cheerful.

Gojo blinked.

Everything—the lights, the glitter, the horrible buzzers, the giant inflatable L—flickered away like a bad TV signal.

When his eyes focused again… it was just sky. The quad. Grass pressed uncomfortably against his cheek.

His phone vibrated insistently against his hip.

Groaning, Gojo fumbled for it with the grace of a recently concussed man. He squinted at the screen.

Naru-chan ☀️

He blinked. Hesitated. Then answered.

“…Hello?”

“Satoru! Are you coming to the cafe? I’m saving you a seat anyways, ‘kay? They have your favorites!”

Her voice came through the line, bright as usual.

Oh. Right. The café.

He glanced at the time, wondering if enough time had passed for Shoko to work her emotionally manipulative, cigarette-scented magic.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Gojo exhaled.

After a suspicious amount of silence on his end, Naruto’s voice came again—cheerful and entirely undeserving of the spiral she’d triggered.

“…You good?” she asked innocently, like she hadn’t just been the star of his subconscious psychological horror game show.

Gojo swallowed hard.

“…I’m fine,” he said finally, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “I’ll be there soon.”

But somewhere—deep in the cursed corners of his psyche—he could still faintly hear Haibara’s voice, echoing like a ghost across his frontal lobe:

“RIZZLESS AT SIX-FOOT-THREE?? LOVE ISN’T A PERFORMANCE, SENPAI.“

And with that, he dragged himself up from the grass, dusted himself off, and started toward the cafe—already bracing for at least a few solid hours of emotional torture.