Chapter Text
Maybe it was a tad bit obsessive, Gojo Satoru offhandedly thought, as he thumbed through another case file of yours. Or maybe it was just curiosity? Simple research? Though… when he glanced at his phone as he got a text notification from a student (“You’re an hour late, old man. At least warn us when you’re busy dicking around” - Megumi), your social media profiles were already pulled up. Yeah, probably an obsession, but he’d never admit that.
You were the newest faculty addition to Jujutsu Tech, flown in just last week from another country. With the rapid influx of cursed activity in the area all due to Sukuna’s reawakening, the higher ups decided they needed expertise.
“For reassurance, Satoru. Just in case your management of Sukuna’s vessel becomes unruly.”
But if that was a good thing (probably wasn’t, coming from their outdated, conservative opinions), he had yet to decide.
Gojo leaned back into his chair and flicked through your social platforms. For one, you didn't feel like a devout conservative in the cursed arts. When you were given the opportunity to meet the first years, never once did you look at Yuuji in disdain. You also looked to be well traveled: having pictures posted in all hemispheres and little clips of your adventures. You appeared to be open to new cultures and new experiences— characteristics quite opposite to the upper leadership of Japan’s sorcerer schools.
But man, oh man.
His pants got a little bit snug and he chuckled to himself. The pretty pictures didn’t do you justice. He remembered picking you up from the airport, poor Ijichi timidly holding an overly decorated sign (made by yours truly) with your name while he skimmed the crowds. When you emerged, suitcases in tow, sporting an expensive outfit and a charming smile, he thought he saw everything in slow motion. As if he took a sucker punch from Cupid himself and saw everything in a concussed, tunnel vision.
Wasn’t love, definitely not. Not when he had to adjust his pants so often after less than a day of interaction with you. Curiosity? Infatuation? Those were the viable options. Even now, just glancing through your Instagram pictures, he swiped a hand down his face and adjusted his suffocatingly tight pants.
You reminded him of the symphonies written by classical musicians. Timeless beauty, complex sophistication, hauntingly powerful. Incomparable. You didn’t even try to conceal the strong pulses of your cursed energy; you just let your welcoming crew feel it. Like a little warning not to fuck with you, contrary to that blitheful smile you wore. Even as the newest addition to Jujutsu Tech’s faculty, Gojo thought you should’ve acted— at the very least— shy, intimated, like a novice pianist learning a simple scale. Quite a shock to feel like he entered into a private concert hall.
It irritated him, this silent confidence you had. Like you knew everyone was mesmerized by you yet you had no interest to acknowledge it. You didn’t even brag that you were of special grade when he asked about this “expertise” you had. You just gave a polite smile and shrugged, said you did this for a couple of years, and laughed when Gojo recalled why the higher ups recommended you.
“Oh Jesus, they said that? I really just jumped on the opportunity to teach abroad. Haha~!”
Pompous, little brat…
He wasn’t slighted, per say, about your docile humility. He respected you as a skillful sorcerer, what with his research into your files. A pretty thing with legs that went on for days. Fuck— and that fucking ass…
Gojo sighed and turned off his phone. Yeah, it was just a small curiosity he had about you. Still, he couldn’t shake off why the higher ups recruited a foreigner to deal with domestic affairs. And so, he turned back to the file he was reading and continued.
[Last Name], [First Name]. Age 26.
Classification: Special Grade
Curse Techniques: sensory manipulation, time distortion, prophetic cognition (?)
He raised an eyebrow at this. Interesting. Maybe you have a cursed crystal ball or tarot cards. But before he could ruminate on what exactly were your cursed techniques, another ping on his phone diverted his attention. This time, a message from Yuuji.
“Ohayo, Gojo-sensei! Um, Kugisaki is a little upset. Says you’re cutting into her online shopping time.”
Another ping, not even a second later.
“Gojo-sensei!!! She’s threatening to take out a straw doll on you! :( !"
Research (stalking?) would have to wait. He slid the document back into the Manila folder and gathered his belongings to head out to the training grounds.
[a week prior]
The world of evil cursed users and cursed sorcerers were far and few in between. It was such a niche community— everyone knew everyone, or at the very least vaguely heard of them. But while there was a remote awareness of each other, it was such an uncommon occupation that no one really had time to chit chat. Millions of curses a day, only a handful of exorcists. Maybe this was why you were surprised by the email. You almost deleted it, having thought it was spam from the subject title “New Job Opportunity Overseas” (thought you unsubscribed from Indeed), but when you accidentally tapped the thread on your phone, you almost dropped your flute of mimosa.
Fucking hell.
You sat up straight from your relaxed spot on the patio furniture and reread the email. One. Twice. Three times. A small panic settled into your stomach and you felt your throat narrow just by a hair.
You didn’t think there was intentional communication in different areas of the world when it came to jujutsu sorcerers. Even during your vast travels (courtesy paid by your freelancing exorcisms— especially by the United States’ federal bodies), no one in particular specifically requested your assistance. America’s Department of Defense, Europe’s Interpol— just a small ‘oh I heard you were here’, large sums of hush hush money, and a little wave goodbye to keep the citizens blissfully unaware of creatures beyond what could be seen.
But Tokyo? Really? Didn’t they have several sorcerers stationed there? Wasn’t the Gojo Satoru there?
You chewed the inside of your lip and stared at the Mykonos’ crystalline waters. You’d be cutting your vacation time by a week. The expenses were non refundable, but shit—
Housing and amenities AND premium pay, huh? You sighed and downed the rest of your drink. Besides the Philippines and Thailand, you haven’t really been to Asian countries. There wasn’t really a need for your exorcisms, given the superstitions most Asian cultures had. One way or another, there was more awareness of dark energy. More jujutsu sorcerers.
What could they possibly need that wasn’t already provided there? The more you speculated about it, the more your intuition told you to run. But man, you really wanted to see Japan…
“Fuck it,” you mutter. You lowered your designer sunglasses back down to your eyes and left the relaxing, comforting patio of your beachfront rental.
Quick tapping on your flight app and you were soon on a twelve hour plane ride to Tokyo.