She whispers into the phone, her voice nervous, "Gojo-san? Are you there? I think I might need your Ghost buster services. I can hear...something in my apartment moving around. But it's....." She wasn't exactly sure how to explain to him that what she though she saw was a coat rack that had become animated & was rolling around aggressively in her home. "It's weird.....I'm hiding in my closet."
There's a split second of silence on the other end of the line before his voice comes through, steady and commanding but somehow still reassuring. Gone is the playful teasing from earlier, replaced by the focused intensity of someone who's dealt with situations like this countless times before.
"Listen to me very carefully. I need you to stay exactly where you are and keep your voice down. Don't hang up this phone, don't try to confront it, and whatever you do, don't let it know you can see it. The fact that you can see it now means your cursed energy is awakening, probably triggered by the stress and lack of sleep. That's actually good news because it means we can work with this."
There's a rustling sound on his end, followed by what sounds like a door closing. His voice takes on a slightly different quality, like he's moving quickly while talking.
"I'm already on my way. I'm going to need your address, but first, describe exactly what you're seeing right now. Is the figure solid or more like a shadow? Is it searching for you actively or just wandering? Every detail matters here, so take a breath and tell me everything you can."
Despite the urgency of the situation, there's something almost calming about the way he speaks. It's the voice of someone who knows exactly what to do and has absolute confidence in their ability to handle whatever comes next. In the background, you can hear the faint sound of wind, suggesting he's already moving at considerable speed.
She peaks between the crack of the closet door, the phone clutched in her hand. "It's solid. I think. And dark with multiple hooks?... . What do I do if it looks in the closet?
The line goes quiet for a minute, "Umm, It-it's coming this way Gojo-san."
His voice cuts through the silence with absolute authority, sharp and clear like a blade. There's no hesitation, no doubt, just pure command wrapped in a tone that somehow conveys both urgency and complete control.
"Noa, I need you to close your eyes right now. I know that sounds counterintuitive, but trust me on this. Close your eyes, cover your ears if you can, and start counting backwards from one hundred. Out loud if you need to, but quietly. The creature is drawn to fear and awareness. If you stop perceiving it, you become less interesting as a target. It's looking for a reaction, for that spike of terror that confirms you can see it. Don't give it that satisfaction."
There's a rushing sound on his end, like wind whipping past at incredible speed. His breathing is steady despite clearly moving at a pace that should leave him winded. When he speaks again, his tone shifts slightly, becoming almost conversational despite the dire circumstances, as if he's trying to keep her grounded with the normalcy of his voice, "I'm three minutes away, maybe less. I've already pinpointed your location based on the cursed energy signature I picked up earlier. That thing in your apartment? It's been feeding off you for years, growing fat and lazy on your stress and insomnia. It got bold tonight because your awakened cursed energy basically rang the dinner bell. But here's the thing about curses that have been dormant that long—they're used to you being unaware. The moment I arrive, it's going to realize it picked the wrong night to make its move. So you just need to hold on for two more minutes. Can you do that for me? Keep counting, keep your eyes closed, and remember that you're not alone in this. I'm coming."
There's a sound like reality itself tearing open, followed by absolute silence. The oppressive presence that had been creeping closer to the closet door suddenly stops, and then there's a voice from inside her apartment that she recognizes immediately. It's Gojo, and his tone is completely different from anything she heard earlier in the night. Cold, sharp, and carrying an edge that makes it clear he's not playing around.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A grade three curse that's been playing house with someone who couldn't even see you until tonight. That must have been real comfortable, huh? Years of free meals, no resistance, just slowly draining away her sleep and peace of mind like the parasite you are. But then she had to go and develop cursed energy awareness, and suddenly your cozy little arrangement got complicated. So you decided to escalate, to try and finish the job before someone like me showed up. Unfortunately for you, I don't really appreciate things that go bump in the night and terrorize my future students."
There's a sound like something heavy being slammed against the wall & what sounds like things falling, followed by what can only be described as an inhuman shriek that cuts off almost as soon as it begins. She can hear footsteps approaching the closet, measured and calm, and then the door opens gently to reveal Gojo standing there with his blindfold still in place, though there's something about his posture that radiates barely contained power. He crouches down to her level, that familiar smile returning to his face, though it's softer now, more genuine and reassuring than the cocky grin from earlier.
"Hey there. You can open your eyes now. It's safe. You did really good, by the way. Ninety-one is a perfectly respectable number to get to while something is actively hunting you in your own apartment. Most people would have panicked way earlier than that. Come on out when you're ready. The boogeyman's been handled, though your apartment might need a little bit of cleaning. Sorry about the scorch marks on the ceiling. That's going to be a fun one to explain to your landlord."
Her face looked up at him in relief before she climbed out of the closet. She reached out & grabbed his arm, completely unaware of just how impossible with his infinity turned on that that was suppose to be, "Oh my god, I thought I was loosing it or something! I thought maybe I was becoming schizophrenic & that you & this thing were just a figment of my mind. I thought when I met you earlier you were just some psych patient that escaped and I had the bad luck of running into. This is one of the most bizarre nights of my life."
As she rubbed her eyes, she also seemed to completely miss the fact that she was standing in front of a full grown man with her white frilly underwear & nothing but a t-shirt on.
He froze for a split second when her hand made contact with his arm, and though she couldn't see it behind the blindfold, there's a definite shift in his expression. The fact that she just touched him, that physical contact was made despite his Infinity being active, registers immediately. His mind races through the implications even as he maintains that reassuring smile. Either she's already developing cursed energy control instinctively, or there's something about her particular energy signature that bypasses his automatic defense. Both options are fascinating and potentially significant, but he files that observation away for later analysis because right now, she seems to be in some kind of mild shock and clearly overwhelmed.
"Hey, hey, none of that now. You're not crazy, you're not schizophrenic, and you definitely didn't imagine any of this. Though I gotta say, if this was all just a stress hallucination, your brain picked a really weird way to manifest it. Most people's stress dreams don't include devastatingly handsome sorcerers showing up to save the day." He keeps his tone light and teasing, trying to ground her with humor even as he reaches out and gently takes her shoulders, steadying her. His touch is warm and solid, real in a way that proves this isn't just another nightmare. He can feel the slight trembling, the adrenaline crash hitting now that the immediate danger has passed.
It's only then that he seems to register what she's wearing, or more accurately, what she's not wearing. His head tilts slightly, and even though the blindfold hides his eyes, there's a sudden tension in his posture that suggests he's very deliberately looking at her face and nowhere else. A faint hint of color appears on his cheeks, barely visible in the dim light of the apartment. He clears his throat and immediately shrugs off his high-collared jacket, draping it over her shoulders in one smooth motion. The jacket is oversized on her smaller frame, hanging down past her hips and effectively covering what needs to be covered.
"Alright, so, couple of things. First, you're in shock and that's completely normal after what just happened. Second, you're also standing in front of a strange man in your underwear, which is probably not ideal even if I am the good guy in this scenario. So let's get you properly dressed, and then we need to have a serious conversation about what happens next. Can you walk okay? Your legs aren't too shaky?" His voice is gentle but practical, the kind of tone someone uses when they're trying to help someone through a crisis without making them feel infantilized.
"I can walk just fine. I was prepared to sprint out of here like Usain Bolt so I think walking should be manageable. And thanks for the jacket. Grabbing sweats on my way into the closet wasn't exactly my first thought" She pauses for a minute while on the way to her dresser and looks up at the scorch marks on her ceiling "I also don't think my landlord is going to consider you a hero. More of a home-wrecker. Literally."
He follows behind her at a respectful distance, hands sliding back into his pockets now that his jacket is draped over her shoulders. His gaze sweeps across the apartment, taking in the damage with an almost clinical assessment. There are indeed scorch marks on the ceiling, a crack in the wall where he'd slammed the curse, and what looks like residual cursed energy dissipating in the air like steam. He lets out a low whistle, half amused and half apologetic.
"Yeah, okay, fair point about the home-wrecker thing. Though in my defense, the alternative was letting that thing finish what it started, and I'm pretty sure your landlord would have a harder time explaining a tenant who mysteriously disappeared or ended up catatonic in a psychiatric ward. At least scorch marks can be painted over." He moves toward the damaged area, examining it with a critical eye while still maintaining awareness of her position in the room. His voice takes on a more thoughtful tone as he continues. "I can probably get the school to cover the repair costs. We've got a discretionary fund for exactly this kind of thing, believe it or not. Collateral damage is practically an occupational hazard in my line of work. I'll write it up as a training incident or something equally vague that won't raise too many questions."
He turns his attention back to her, and even through the blindfold, she can feel the weight of his focus. There's something different about him now compared to their first meeting in the alley. The playful teacher is still there, but layered underneath is the sharp, calculating sorcerer who just eliminated a threat with what appeared to be minimal effort. When he speaks again, his tone is gentler, more personal. "Take your time getting changed. I'm going to do a quick sweep of the rest of your apartment, make sure that was the only thing lurking around. Sometimes curses like to travel in pairs, though this one seemed like a solitary feeder based on its behavior pattern. Once you're dressed, we really do need to talk about what happens from here, because after tonight, there's no putting this genie back in the bottle. You're awake to the cursed world now, and that changes everything."
He follows behind her at a respectful distance. His gaze sweeps across the apartment, taking in the damage with an almost clinical assessment. There are indeed scorch marks on the ceiling, a crack in the wall where he'd slammed the curse, and what looks like residual cursed energy dissipating in the air like steam. He lets out a low whistle, half amused and half apologetic.
"Yeah, okay, fair point about the home-wrecker thing. Though in my defense, the alternative was letting that thing finish what it started, and I'm pretty sure your landlord would have a harder time explaining a tenant who mysteriously disappeared or ended up catatonic in a psychiatric ward. At least scorch marks can be painted over."He moves toward the damaged area, examining it with a critical eye while still maintaining awareness of your position in the room. His voice takes on a more thoughtful tone as he continues."I can probably get the school to cover the repair costs. We've got a discretionary fund for exactly this kind of thing, believe it or not. Collateral damage is practically an occupational hazard in my line of work. I'll write it up as a training incident or something equally vague that won't raise too many questions."
He turns his attention back to you, and even through the blindfold, you can feel the weight of his focus. There's something different about him now compared to your first meeting in the alley. The playful teacher is still there, but layered underneath is the sharp, calculating sorcerer who just eliminated a threat with what appeared to be minimal effort. When he speaks again, his tone is gentler, more personal."Take your time getting changed. I'm going to do a quick sweep of the rest of your apartment, make sure that was the only thing lurking around. Sometimes curses like to travel in pairs, though this one seemed like a solitary feeder based on its behavior pattern. Once you're dressed, we really do need to talk about what happens from here, because after tonight, there's no putting this genie back in the bottle. You're awake to the cursed world now, and that changes everything."
She raised an eyebrow at him, "I wanna crack a joke about how this is the first time you've seen a girl in her underwear, but going based on your looks I say that probability is zero-to none. But yea give me a minute to get changed into these sweats & I'll be out."
He lets out a surprised laugh at that comment, his shoulders shaking with genuine amusement as he turns to begin his sweep of the apartment. There's something oddly charming about the fact that she's still able to crack jokes even after everything that just happened. Most people would be a complete mess right now, but here she is making observations about his dating life while standing in his jacket and her underwear. It's refreshing in a way he didn't expect, and he finds himself grinning as he responds over his shoulder while moving toward the bedroom door to give her privacy.
"You know, most people who just survived a curse attack don't immediately start speculating about my romantic history. I can't decide if that makes you incredibly brave or just really good at compartmentalizing trauma. Either way, I'm impressed. And for the record, I plead the fifth on that particular topic. A gentleman never tells, and all that. "He pauses in the doorway, his back to her as he continues in a more serious but still warm tone. "Though I appreciate the vote of confidence in my looks. Nice to know the blindfold and 'psych patient aesthetic' aren't completely ruining my image. Take your time getting changed. I'll be in the other room making sure nothing else is hiding under your furniture or in your walls. And hey? You really did handle that incredibly well tonight. Not many people keep their cool like that on their first real encounter with a curse. That's going to matter a lot going forward."
With that, he steps out and quietly closes the door behind him, leaving her to change in privacy. Through the thin walls of the apartment, she can hear him moving around with purpose, occasionally muttering to himself as he checks corners and spaces that most people wouldn't think to examine. There's the sound of him opening the fridge at one point, followed by an amused comment about her collection of strawberry boba that he probably thinks she can't hear. Despite the chaos of the last hour, his presence in the apartment feels oddly reassuring rather than intrusive, like having a particularly confident friend crash on the couch after a bad night. After a few minutes, he calls out from what sounds like the small living room area, his voice carrying that same casual warmth from earlier.
"All clear out here. No additional guests, cursed or otherwise. Though I gotta say, your taste in scary movie posters is pretty solid. The original Nightmare on Elm Street? Classic choice. Kind of ironic given what just happened, but still classic."
She came out a moment later wearing baggy grey sweats that hung low on her hips, showing off her belly piercing, & an oversized blue Teddy Bear T-Shirt. She made her way to the small L shaped couch & flopped down on one end, "Thanks. The classics are always the best. If you get the chance you should watch the original Dracula movie, it's hilarious. And going forward? I thought since you destroyed the black shadow thing it was over."
He settles himself on the other end of the L-shaped couch with practiced ease, draping one arm along the back cushions while maintaining that characteristic relaxed posture that somehow still manages to convey complete alertness. The blindfold remains in place, but there's something about the way his head tilts in her direction that makes it clear he's paying complete attention despite not being able. When he speaks, his voice carries that same gentle patience from earlier, like a teacher explaining something important to a student who genuinely wants to understand.
"The original Dracula is great, you're absolutely right about that. Bela Lugosi chewing scenery in the best possible way. We should definitely watch it sometime when you're not recovering from a supernatural home invasion." He pauses for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts on how best to explain what comes next. His fingers drum lightly against the back of the couch as he continues."And yeah, the immediate threat is gone. That particular curse won't be bothering you anymore because it's been thoroughly exorcised. Think of it like finally getting rid of a particularly nasty parasite that's been living off you for years. You should actually start sleeping better pretty much immediately, and those recurring nightmares will stop because the thing causing them is gone. But here's where it gets complicated, and I need you to really hear what I'm about to tell you because it's going to affect your entire life from this point forward."
He shifts slightly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, bringing himself closer to eye level in a way that feels less intimidating and more like having a serious conversation with someone who genuinely cares about making sure the person understand. His voice takes on a more earnest quality, the playful teacher facade dropping away to reveal something more authentic underneath.
"That curse was attracted to you in the first place because you have cursed energy. You've always had it, probably since you were born, but it was dormant and undeveloped. Most people with latent cursed energy never awaken it because they go their whole lives without encountering something strong enough to trigger that awakening. You weren't that lucky. Years of stress, insomnia, and constant exposure to that curse slowly brought your awareness to the surface, and tonight you crossed a threshold. You can see curses now. You can perceive the world of jujutsu sorcery, and that's not something you can just turn off like a switch. Once you're aware, you stay aware. It's like learning to see a new color that was always there but invisible to you before. You can't unlearn it, and you can't pretend it doesn't exist anymore because ignoring curses when you can see them is an excellent way to end up dead."
Her face has a look of concern on it as she processes what he just said, "But, what if I don't want to be part of the Jujutsu world? Is there anyway to turn it off? You know, since it can be awakened maybe it can go dormant? I can't fight stuff like that, even if I wanted to. I'm a big sofie. I like soft clothes & cuddling into blankets. I like wearing my favorite comfy pants. I cry when I fall & scrap my knee. There's no way I could fight off stuff like you just did.
She's quiet for a moment as a thought crosses her mind, a sad tone taking over her voice, "Does..does that mean I'm gonna die? I don't want that."
His expression softens immediately at the sight of tears forming in your eyes, and without hesitation, he closes the distance between them on the couch. He moves with surprising gentleness for someone who just demolished a curse moments ago, settling closer to her so he can reach out and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His touch is warm and solid, grounding in a way that contradicts the fear spiraling through her mind. When he speaks, his voice carries none of the teasing playfulness from before, replaced instead by something far more genuine and protective, like someone talking to a person who is genuinely scared for their life rather than just another case to handle.
"Hey, look at me. Well, look at the general vicinity of my face since the blindfold makes proper eye contact a bit tricky. You are not going to die, do you hear me? That's not how this works, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Yes, your cursed energy is awakened now and that's permanent, but that doesn't automatically mean you have to become a frontline fighter throwing yourself at curses like some kind of action hero. There are dozens of different roles in the jujutsu world that don't involve direct combat. We have support staff, researchers, analysts, people who work on barrier techniques, individuals who specialize in detection and early warning systems. Hell, some of the most valuable people in our world are the ones who can sense curses and alert the actual fighters before situations escalate. Being a softy who likes comfortable clothes and crying when you scrape your knee doesn't disqualify you from having a place in this world. It just means you need proper training and protection while we figure out where you fit best." He pauses, his thumb rubbing small, comforting circles against her shoulder as he continues in that same steady, reassuring tone.
"Here's what's actually going to happen. First, after your exam tomorrow because I'm not letting supernatural drama ruin your academic career, you're going to come meet me at Tokyo Jujutsu High. We're going to run some proper assessments to see exactly what your cursed energy looks like, what your natural inclinations are, and what kind of techniques you might be capable of developing. Then we're going to set you up with basic training that focuses on defense and awareness rather than offense. Think of it less like becoming a soldier and more like learning really advanced self-defense and situational awareness. You'll learn to recognize different types of curses, understand when to run versus when to call for help, and develop enough basic technique to protect yourself in an emergency. But here's the important part, and I need you to really hear this because I mean it with absolute sincerity. You will not be alone in this. I'm not going to just throw you into the deep end and hope you figure out how to swim. I'm going to be there every step of the way, teaching you, protecting you, making sure you have the resources and support you need to navigate this new reality safely. That's not just my job as a teacher, that's my personal commitment to you because I don't abandon people who need help."
"You promise?" She hold up her pinky finger to him, "Like pinky promise, so I know it's legit of course."
He stares at the extended pinky finger for a moment, and even though she can't see his eyes behind the blindfold, there's something about his posture that suggests genuine surprise mixed with an emotion that might be fondness. A soft laugh escapes him, warm and genuine rather than mocking, and he shakes his head slightly as if marveling at the absurdity and sweetness of the gesture in equal measure. Without hesitation, he reaches out and hooks his much larger pinky around hers, the size difference almost comical but somehow making the moment feel even more sincere. His finger curls firmly around hers, and when he speaks, his voice carries a weight of absolute conviction that makes it clear this isn't just empty words or casual reassurance. This is a binding promise from someone who doesn't make commitments lightly.
"I promise, Noa. Pinky promise, cross my heart, whatever childhood oath makes you feel most secure. I will be there to teach you, protect you, and make sure you navigate this world safely. You won't be thrown to the wolves, you won't be expected to fight things beyond your capability, and you absolutely will not die on my watch. That curse tonight? That was literally nothing compared to what I'm actually capable of handling. You've essentially got the world's strongest babysitter, though I prefer the term mentor since babysitter makes me sound like I should be charging fifteen dollars an hour and raiding your snack cabinet." He maintains the pinky link for a moment longer than strictly necessary, his thumb brushing lightly against the side of her hand in a gesture that's both comforting and oddly intimate despite the casual nature of the promise. There's something about the way he holds her pinky, careful and deliberate, that suggests he understands exactly how much weight this silly childhood gesture carries for her right now and he's treating it with the seriousness it deserves.
"Now, here's what we're going to do for the rest of tonight because I'm not leaving you alone in this apartment after what just happened. You're going to try to get some actual sleep since your exam is in a few hours and you need to be functional enough to pass Statistics 2. I'm going to stay out here on this very comfortable looking couch and keep watch to make sure nothing else decides to crash your sleepover. Before you argue, yes, I can absolutely stay awake all night without issue, and no, this is not negotiable because leaving you alone right now would violate the pinky promise I just made about thirty seconds ago. In the morning, you go take your exam, and then we meet up and start figuring out your training schedule. Does that sound like a plan you can work with, or do we need to negotiate the terms of this arrangement? I'm open to reasonable counteroffers as long as they don't involve me leaving you unprotected or you trying to pretend tonight didn't happen."
"No no, I am fully accepting what happened tonight as real. My ruined bedroom & living room are serving as undeniable proof. By the way, I'd don't have to call you Gojo-sensei or anything if you teach me stuff right? I mean, you can't be older than your early or mid twenties right? You just don't look old enough to be someone's sensei, especially my sensei haha. Here let me grab you a blanket." She walks away toward an ottoman on the side of the couch.
He watches as she gets up to retrieve a blanket, and there's something almost amusing about the way his head tilts slightly at the question about his age and title. When he responds, his voice carries that familiar playful edge mixed with something that might be mild offense at being called young-looking, though it's clearly more theatrical than genuine. "I'll have you know I'm a very distinguished twenty-eight years old, which absolutely qualifies me as sensei material in the jujutsu world. I've been teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu High for years now, and I'm widely regarded as the strongest sorcerer alive, so my credentials are pretty solid even if I don't have the grey hair and wizened appearance you apparently associate with proper teachers. But no, you don't have to call me Gojo-sensei if it feels too formal or weird. Most of my students do, but we can figure out what works best for our dynamic once we actually start training. Gojo is fine, Satoru works too if you want to be really casual about it, or you can stick with calling me a home-wrecker since that seemed to roll off your tongue pretty naturally earlier." He stretches out along the length of the couch as she moves to grab the blanket, his tall frame somehow managing to fit relatively comfortably despite the couch not being designed for someone six foot three. His arms fold behind his head in a relaxed pose that suggests he's completely at ease despite agreeing to stay awake all night keeping watch.
When you return with the blanket, he accepts it with a grateful nod, draping it over himself with surprising care considering how casually he treats most things. There's something oddly domestic about the scene, this powerful sorcerer who just destroyed a curse now settling in on your couch like a particularly confident houseguest who's decided to extend his stay indefinitely."You know, this is actually pretty nice. The blanket, I mean. You weren't kidding about liking soft things. This is definitely better than some of the places I've had to crash during missions. One time I had to sleep in an abandoned warehouse that smelled like old fish and regret. This is a significant upgrade. Now go get some sleep before your brain is too fried to remember what a standard deviation is. I'll be right here if you need anything, and I promise the scary part of the night is over. From here on out, it's just boring surveillance and making sure you actually rest for once in your life. Sweet dreams, and try not to worry too much. Everything's going to be okay, and I don't make promises I can't keep."
She gave him a skeptical look with a raised eyebrow as she walked toward her door. "Ah darn, I don't think my blanket will be up to par with your preference of Fish & regret smell. You'll just have deal with the Lavender & vanilla smell haha" She laughs jokingly while waving at him from the doorway. "Night Mr.Gojo Satoru."
He laughs at the joke, the sound warm and genuine in the quiet of the apartment as she heads toward the bedroom. His hand raises in a casual wave back, an evident smile on his face. "Lavender and vanilla is actually a significant improvement over fish and regret, I'll have you know. You're really spoiling me here. This might become my new favorite stakeout location. And it's just Satoru or Gojo, the mister makes me feel like I should be wearing a suit and filing taxes or something equally boring. Now get some sleep before I start reciting statistics formulas at you until you pass out from sheer academic exhaustion. I know more about probability distributions than anyone has a right to, and I'm not afraid to use that knowledge as a sleep aid."
As she close the door to the bedroom, he settles more comfortably into the couch, the blanket draped over his frame. Despite his promise to stay awake, his posture is remarkably relaxed, and there's something oddly protective about his presence in the living room. True to his word, he remains alert throughout the night, his senses extended to monitor the apartment and surrounding area for any signs of cursed energy. The apartment feels different now with him there, the oppressive atmosphere that had been building for years completely gone, replaced instead by a sense of safety that she hasn't felt in your own home for longer than she could remember. For the first time in what feels like forever, sleep comes easily and without the nightmares that have plagued her for so long. When morning arrives and sunlight filters through the windows, she finds him exactly where he promised to be, still keeping watch and ready to help navigate whatever comes next in this strange new world she's been thrust into. The scorch marks on the ceiling serve as evidence that last night really happened, but his presence serves as proof that she don't have to face any of it alone.