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The curse barely lasted five seconds against him.
It had emerged from beneath the abandoned pedestrian tunnel, its malformed body dragging itself across concrete walls while dark saliva dripped from a mouth far too large for its face. Yuuji only stared at it with tired eyes. Ever since the Shibuya Incident, the scale of things capable of frightening him had changed permanently.
A mere first-grade curse no longer looked monstrous compared to the memories burned behind his eyes every time he tried to sleep.
A single step forward and Black Flash exploded from his fist with precision.
It was just too easy.
Yuuji exhaled while rubbing the back of his neck, exhaustion sitting deep inside his bones. Being promoted to special grade after Shibuya had not changed much except making people look at him differently.
Some stared at him with fear, others with admiration, and a few with pity, but none of them truly understood what it meant to continue living after surviving something that should have destroyed him completely.
He was about to leave when something caught his attention near the spot where the curse had disappeared.
An orb. Small enough to fit into his palm, dark and smooth like polished obsidian, yet pulsating faintly from within. The moment Yuuji crouched down to pick it up, a violent wave of negative energy surged directly through his body.
Pain slammed into his skull instantly. Not physical pain alone, but memories, emotions, grief, loneliness, fear, all tangled together into something suffocating and endless. Yuuji barely had enough time to curse under his breath before the world around him twisted unnaturally.
Darkness swallowed everything whole.
When Yuuji opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer surrounded by the humid warmth of Tokyo summers or the stale heat trapped inside train stations. He took in his surroundings, sunlight spilling softly across expensive marble floors and touching his skin gently. He simply lay there staring blankly upward at the unfamiliar ceiling above him.
Yuuji blinked once.
Twice.
“…Huh?”
His throat felt dry when he spoke, his own voice rough with sleep as confusion slowly settled into his mind. This was not his dorm room at Jujutsu High, nor some hotel assigned during missions, and definitely not anywhere he recognized.
The bed beneath him was absurdly soft, the blankets smelling faintly of detergent and something floral, and for one bizarre moment Yuuji genuinely wondered if the past few years had simply been one long nightmare born from stress and exhaustion.
But no.
The memories of Shibuya were far too vivid to ever feel fake.
Slowly pushing himself upright, he winced immediately as a sharp headache pulsed behind his eyes hard enough to make the room spin slightly. His body felt heavy, strangely rested but disoriented at the same time. He forced himself to stand.
The room remained painfully tidy as he walked toward the standing mirror resting near the corner beside enormous windows draped with black curtains, and the reflection staring back at him made him pause.
It was him. Obviously him, with the pink hair, athletic build, and familiar honey-brown eyes. But something was wrong. The scars were gone.
Yuuji stared silently at his own face while his fingers slowly brushed against smooth skin where marks used to remain permanently etched. Those scars had become part of him, physical proof that everything truly happened, and seeing them absent now felt unsettling. His pink hair looked slightly longer too, softer and messier.
“Where the hell am I… Did I regain memories from another life or something?” he muttered weakly before yawning halfway through the sentence.
The sound of someone calling his name interrupted him.
“Yuuji! Are you still not awake, or do I need to come upstairs? Come eat before everything gets cold!”
Yuuji froze. Something inside him twisted instinctively, and his body moved toward the bedroom door, down a spiraling staircase lined with expensive paintings and warm lighting until he reached the dining area below.
His heart nearly stopped.
A woman stood near the dining table carrying bowls of steaming food. Yuuji’s eyes locked immediately onto the stitches running across her forehead.
The stitches.
Kenjaku.
But standing there smiling gently at him was his mother. Or rather, the body that once belonged to his mother.
His mind reeled instantly. The last thing he remembered was Kenjaku inhabiting Geto Suguru’s corpse after abandoning Kaori Itadori’s body years ago, and hadn’t they already defeated him? Hadn’t everything ended already?
“You’re doing it again,” she sighed softly.
Yuuji barely had time to react before she walked toward him and gently placed a hand atop his messy pink hair. The warmth of it made him flinch slightly.
“See? I’m alright,” she said with a small laugh, touching the stitched scar on her forehead casually. “The doctors said it’ll heal within a few months. I’m sorry for worrying you that much, sweetheart. The accident was horrible, but somehow your mother survived.”
Accident?
Yuuji stared at her silently.
What accident?
In his memories, his parents had been dead long before middle school.
“Please, let’s not talk about it during breakfast,” another voice interrupted. “You know it gives him nightmares.”
Yuuji turned sharply.
A man stood near the kitchen entrance holding plates in his hands, looking entirely ordinary, but Yuuji realized with sudden disbelief that this had to be his father.
Itadori Jin.
“It hurts seeing him stare at your stitches like that,” the man continued softly while setting the plates down. “He’s been so sensitive ever since the accident.”
His mother smiled faintly before brushing her fingers against Yuuji’s cheek. “My sweet boy,” she murmured. “Always worrying about others before himself.”
Yuuji genuinely did not know how to respond.
Was this his mother? Was this Kenjaku?
Was it both somehow?
His instincts screamed at him that something about this reality was deeply wrong, yet at the same time the smell of freshly cooked food curling through the dining room made his stomach growl embarrassingly loud. Suddenly, Yuuji realized how long it had truly been since he last experienced something this painfully normal, like homemade food.
Breakfast passed strangely peacefully afterward. His father talked about Tokyo traffic while his mother complained lightly about unpacking boxes after their recent move from Sendai, and Yuuji mostly remained quiet while observing them carefully, trying to determine whether any trace of Kenjaku existed behind those familiar eyes.
“So, Yuuji,” his father asked while sipping coffee, “what are your planning for today?”
Yuuji blinked. “Hm?”
“Well, tomorrow’s your first day at the new school,” his father explained patiently. “I know moving away from your friends in Sendai has been rough, so maybe exploring Tokyo a little would help?”
Yuuji nodded slowly despite understanding almost none of the context belonging to this version of his life.
“Yeah… I think I’ll walk around a bit,” he answered carefully. “Get familiar with things.”
His mother smiled immediately. “Do you want me to come with you, honey?” The affectionate tone alone nearly made him choke.
“No,” he replied too quickly before softening slightly. “I mean… it’s okay. I’ll be fine by myself.”
“Alright then, just don’t get into trouble.”
If only she knew.
After breakfast, Yuuji returned upstairs and locked the bedroom door before attempting the first thing any sorcerer would try in his situation.
He reached inward toward cursed energy, but nothing happened.
Yuuji frowned harder and tried again, focusing more carefully this time, searching for the familiar flow resting naturally within him like breathing itself.
“…Seriously?”
His physical strength remained intact at least. A quick test involving accidentally crushing the metal handle of his dresser confirmed that much immediately.
Speaking of the dresser, Yuuji stared blankly at the absurd amount of expensive clothing hanging neatly inside afterward. Designer clothes and accessories worth more than entire apartments filled the wardrobe, and for several seconds he could only wonder what exactly his parents did in this universe to afford all this.
Then he checked the phone resting beside the bed.
Yuuji’s eyes widened slightly.
04.06.2018
“That’s… impossible.”
Tokyo remained Tokyo.
Everything looked painfully ordinary without curses lurking around every corner. Yuuji almost missed them, which honestly felt insane.
His feet eventually carried him toward a small restaurant Gojo-sensei used to drag him to after missions whenever they finished particularly difficult jobs, claiming sugar helped “rebuild the soul” or some nonsense like that.
The restaurant still existed, though it had different workers and a slightly different interior.
Yet the smell was exactly the same, lingering pleasantly in the air.
Food do carry memories.
While eating quietly near the window, he found himself wondering where everyone else was in this world.
Were they alive here too?
Did they exist at all?
Yuuji immediately searched for Tokyo Jujutsu High online and found absolutely nothing. Eventually, unable to ignore his instincts anymore, he traveled toward the location he knew by heart.
But instead of Jujutsu High standing proudly beyond hidden barriers, the property now housed a large childcare orphanage surrounded by gardens and colorful playground equipment.
Yuuji stood outside the gates for several moments when someone approached him.
“Young man,” a gentle voice called, “would you like to come inside?”
Yuuji turned around to find a middle-aged woman smiling at him kindly. “I’m Akira,” she introduced herself. “You looked curious.”
Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m new to Tokyo. I was just wondering about this place.”
“It’s only been open for three years,” she explained before opening the gate. “Would you like a tour?”
He nodded and followed her inside.
From the outside, the orphanage looked peaceful, but the moment Yuuji entered the main hall, he winced slightly at the sheer amount of noise children could make all at once.
Someone was apparently losing a dramatic war over crayons near the corner while another child sprinted through the hallway carrying a pillow nearly twice his size. Two little girls were aggressively arguing about whether glitter glue counted as “real art,” while a boy nearby sat beneath a table dramatically claiming he would “never trust humanity again” because somebody stole his pudding cup from the refrigerator.
In another corner, three children had somehow wrapped themselves together using jump ropes and were now rolling helplessly across the floor while screaming for assistance.
Akira sighed tiredly beside him. “It’s always like this after snack time.”
Despite how chaotic it looked, Yuuji felt himself smiling unconsciously. He always loved kids.
One little boy immediately crashed into Akira’s side.
“Auntie! Arin hit me again!”
“That’s because you stole my snacks!” another child yelled from across the room.
Before Akira could respond, a girl with short brown hair suddenly pointed directly at Yuuji.
“Who’s this dumb potato?”
Akira nearly gasped. “Nobara!”
Yuuji’s entire body went still.
The little girl marched closer with an unimpressed expression completely identical to the one burned into Yuuji’s memories. The girl with the brown bob haircut and an attitude bigger than her body.
“If you’re visiting,” she asked suspiciously, “what did you bring us? You can't come see me for free.”
Oh wow.
Because even younger, even softer around the cheeks, even existing as a child in another universe, Yuuji recognized her instantly.
Nobara Kugisaki. His beloved friend.
Yuuji slowly crouched down until they were eye level, smiling so softly it almost hurt.
“Nice to meet you, Nobara,” he said quietly. “I’m Yuuji. Next time I visit, I’ll bring lots of stuff. What do you like?”
Nobara immediately brightened.
“Ohhh, so you’re rich-rich?” she asked excitedly. “I want makeup! And dresses! And a new Barbie because mine looks so ugly and possessed!”
Yuuji burst out laughing before he could stop himself.
God, it really was her.
“Noted,” he replied seriously. “Anything else?”
“Hmm…” she tapped her chin dramatically before grabbing his wrist suddenly. “Come meet everyone first!”
She turned toward the room and shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Everyone line up! This guy buys things if you entertain him!”
She then whispered loudly, “I think he doesn’t have friends.”
Yuuji absolutely heard that.
Unfortunately, everyone else did too.
He ended up spending nearly two hours there afterward, helping children build crooked block towers, reading terrible picture books with exaggerated dramatic voices that made them laugh hysterically, and even settling an argument between two crying boys by carrying both simultaneously under each arm until they stopped fighting out of confusion.
When evening finally arrived and he prepared to leave, Akira walked him toward the entrance.
“Thank you for today. The children really like you.”
Yuuji glanced back toward the noisy building.
“No,” he answered honestly. “I should be thanking you instead. The world can be cruel sometimes, but places like this…” He paused briefly. “They make life feel precious again.”
Akira looked genuinely surprised by the response before smiling warmly once more. “You’re a good kid, Yuuji.”
Maybe once, he thought.
Before leaving, they exchanged contact information, and Yuuji promised the children he would return soon, earning several suspicious demands for expensive gifts and a pinky promise with Nobara.
The sun had already begun sinking beneath Tokyo’s skyline by the time Yuuji passed an electronics store displaying multiple televisions near the street. One particular screen caught his attention.
A high school volleyball match, apparently.
Normally Yuuji would have ignored it, but standing at the center of the court like he was the center of the entire match was a surprisingly short player whose black hair practically glowed beneath the gymnasium lights.
Yuuji frowned slightly.
Volleyball players were usually tall, weren’t they?
Then the boy jumped.
No, he was flying.
Yuuji’s eyes widened as the boy soared above blockers far taller than himself before slamming the ball downward with explosive force powerful enough to make the crowd erupt.
“…Whoa.”
Maybe this world really did have monsters after all.
Just different ones.
Standing in front of the towering gates of Itachiyama Institute, he found himself staring at one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. A school famous not only for producing academic elites but also athletes whose names frequently appeared across television broadcasts and sports magazines.
Yuuji tugged lightly at the dark green tie resting beneath the pristine white uniform lined with sharp neon-yellow accents running along the collar and sleeves. The colors bright enough to stand out without looking gaudy.
He looked… normal. Just a teenager heading to school. Absolutely not a sorcerer.
“Well,” Yuuji muttered quietly while scratching his back, “let’s get started, shall we.”
Unfortunately, blending in is impossible when it comes to him.
“My name is Itadori Yuuji, and my type is tall women with big asses.”
He finished introducing himself in Class 1-3, and the class exploded into chatter.
Several boys slammed their desks while laughing, a few girls looked horrified, and the teacher standing near him sighed deeply like a man already regretting everything.
“Please ignore that last part,” the teacher muttered tiredly.
“But it’s important information,” Yuuji argued honestly.
“It absolutely is not.”
Questions immediately started flying toward him. “Why is your hair pink?” “Is it natural?” “Why did you move in the middle of the term?” “Do you have a girlfriend, handsome country boy?” “Wait, country boy is kind of cute actually.” The girls near the windows started giggling loudly.
Eventually, he escaped toward the empty seat near the back row, only for the boy sitting beside it to grin brightly the moment Yuuji sat down.
“Heyyy, finally,” the brown-haired boy greeted dramatically while leaning back in his chair. “Name’s Komori Motoya. Also, before you ask, my type is all women.”
Yuuji stared at him for just one second, then immediately burst into laughter.
“Oh, we’re definitely getting along,” Yuuji declared while shaking his hand firmly.
Motoya grinned proudly. “I knew you had taste.”
The rest of the class passed by surprisingly quickly afterward. Yuuji did his best to focus despite several students continuing to glance toward him curiously. Honestly, he understood why.
By the time lunch break finally arrived, several classmates had already surrounded his desk.
Yuuji found himself laughing softly as the conversation flowed surprisingly naturally. He talked about his old school, the move to Tokyo, and the differences between city life and quieter neighborhoods.
Most of it was technically the experience from his past life since it was just the same.
The topic eventually shifted toward movies after one student complained about a terrible romance film currently trending online.
“Earthworm Man is still the greatest movie ever made.” Yuuji immediately said.
Half the class groaned instantly. “The CGI earthworms looked like noodles!”
“You people simply fail to understand cinema.”
Motoya slammed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Finally, somebody brave enough to speak the truth.”
“You like Earthworm Man too?” Yuuji asked with genuine excitement.
“No,” Motoya answered immediately. “But I support your right to be wrong.”
Yuuji looked betrayed.
Eventually, Motoya stood up while stretching lazily. “Alright, enough socializing. Everybody’s hungry, right?”
One of the girls near the front raised an eyebrow. “What, are you treating us today?”
“Like hell I would,” Motoya scoffed instantly. “If anyone deserves free food, it’s the transfer student dealing with all of you weirdos. Come on, Itadori. I’ll show you the cafeteria.”
Yuuji laughed softly before following him out.
The hallways remained crowded with students moving between classrooms. Motoya casually explained different parts of the school as they walked.
“That math teacher near the east wing? Avoid eye contact at all costs. His exams are evil.”
“Noted.”
“And if Hamada-sensei says ‘this won’t be graded,’ she’s lying.”
“That sounds personal.”
“It is personal.”
Honestly, academics had never been his strongest area. He was not stupid by any means, but unless something genuinely interested him, he usually settled comfortably around average grades.
School problems suddenly felt almost laughably harmless in comparison to all the fighting he had done.
The cafeteria itself looked more like a food court. Yuuji eventually settled on a large lunch of grilled chicken, rice, miso soup, and curry bread that looked too good to be ignored.
“You eat a lot, huh?” Motoya commented.
“This is me in restraint.”
Motoya snorted loudly.
They had barely started eating when a loud thud suddenly echoed nearby.
A girl had fallen onto the cafeteria floor, her tray slipping from her hands. At a nearby table, one girl slowly pulled back the leg she had very obviously stretched outward moments earlier.
“Oh?” she said mockingly. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there." The girls sitting beside her burst into giggles.
Motoya sighed beside him. “Ah. The wannabe queens are causing problems again.”
Yuuji raised an eyebrow. “Wannabe queens?”
“Just ignore them,” Motoya replied while continuing to eat. “They always do this to people they think are beneath them.”
Yuuji stood up and walked toward the fallen girl. She looked mortified. Yuuji crouched beside her first before carefully helping her back onto her feet.
“You okay?”
The girl nodded quickly, unable to meet his eyes.
Luckily, most of the food remained salvageable except for the spilled drink, so Yuuji balanced the tray carefully before guiding her toward his table.
“Sit with us,” he said casually.
The girl looked startled. “W-What?”
Yuuji turned and walked back toward the group of girls still staring at him in disbelief.
“Don’t do that,” he said simply. “Everyone deserves a respect.”
The girl responsible immediately flushed red. “What? Who are you to talk to me like that?”
“I’m nobody,” Yuuji answered honestly with a small shrug. “But we go to the same school, right? So theoretically, we’re the same. I’m still learning things, and you’re still learning too.”
“You—” the girl sputtered angrily. “You don’t even know who my parents are! I could ruin your life!”
Yuuji simply smiled before raising one hand lazily. “But that’s your parents. What about you?”
The girl looked completely speechless.
Yuuji tilted his head slightly before continuing in the same calm tone.
“You’re pretty, so don’t hurt people. Honestly, people would find you even prettier if you were kinder too.”
The girl’s face turned bright red instantly.
Then Yuuji flashed a peace sign with absolutely zero shame. “Peace.”
And just like that, he walked away. The silence somehow became even louder.
Motoya stared at him with sparkling eyes by the time Yuuji returned to the table.n“Dude,” he whispered dramatically. “You are incredible. I like you even more now.”
Yuuji grinned proudly before finally noticing the girl sitting across from them staring at him with wide eyes.
“…Oh,” he blinked. “It’s you. Ozawa!”
The girl froze immediately.
“How…?” she stammered while her face turned bright red. “How do you know my name? I only know yours because Komori-san mentioned it earlier…”
Yuuji immediately realized his mistake. Memories flashed through his mind. A shy girl gathering courage just to speak to him.
“Ah… I think I heard somebody say it while passing by earlier,” he lied smoothly.
Ozawa still looked suspiciously flustered, though thankfully she nodded slowly anyway.
Friday had arrived for the elective classes since students were required to choose at least two elective subjects each year.
Yuuji eventually settled on History and Astronomy, mostly because History sounded interesting enough while Astronomy reminded him a little of Gojo-sensei for some reason. Is that make sense?
Before separating for their respective classes, Motoya had grabbed Yuuji dramatically. “Listen carefully. If you see a guy wearing a mask with curly black hair, stay at least five feet away from him at all times.”
Yuuji blinked slowly. “Why?”
“Just do not do anything that gets on his nerves.”
At the time, Yuuji thought Motoya had simply been exaggerating for comedic effect.
When Yuuji entered the classroom, his eyes immediately landed on the boy seated near the very back corner beside the windows. Messy black curls rested unevenly across his forehead while a plain black mask covered most of his face, leaving only sharp dark eyes visible beneath heavy lashes.
Even from several feet away, the atmosphere around him practically screamed do not approach me.
Yuuji watched in mild fascination as the boy carefully sprayed sanitizer across the surface of his desk before wiping it down with practiced efficiency. He even cleaned the chair twice before finally sitting down.
More interestingly, nobody sat near him. Not even near near. The closest student occupied a seat almost two rows away.
Yuuji stared for a moment before glancing around the room. The masked boy barely acknowledged his existence when Yuuji sat down in the same row, though Yuuji did notice the subtle narrowing of his eyes as if mentally calculating the number of germs Yuuji had brought into his personal space.
Still, despite his intimidating aura, the boy turned out to be surprisingly active during class.
Every time the teacher asked a question, his hand raised, and every single answer was correct. Sometimes he even questioned the teacher back, speaking calmly yet precisely enough that the poor instructor looked simultaneously delighted and terrified.
Yuuji could physically see the excitement appear on the teacher’s face whenever the masked student participated.
Honestly, the entire thing reminded him a little of Megumi, but worse.
Eventually, after classes ended, Yuuji headed toward the faculty office. The teacher handed him a neatly printed sheet containing clubs that were currently accepting members. Yuuji was required to join one before the end of next week.
Yuuji scanned the paper while humming thoughtfully. There were far more clubs than he expected.
In his previous life, he had briefly joined the Occult Club mostly because it seemed relaxing, though ironically curses ended up consuming his entire life afterward anyway.
Sadly, no occult club existed here.
He briefly considered the Cooking Club since he was naturally good at cooking, but another part of him wondered if joining something familiar would be a waste when this world offered him a completely fresh start.
Sports were another option. Yuuji knew he was naturally athletic enough to excel at most physical activities, but he had never particularly cared about organized sports before.
While debating internally between the Theater or the Art Club, he unknowingly wandered farther across campus until the sound of shouting echoed through the open training grounds.
“One more round!” a loud voice yelled. “If your legs still work, then you are clearly not trying hard enough!”
A line of exhausted students sprinted past Yuuji immediately afterward, looking seconds away from collapsing.
Among them, Yuuji spotted a very familiar brown-haired boy. “…Komori?”
Yuuji waited near the gym entrance until they finally paused several minutes later, only for Motoya to dramatically collapse flat onto the ground the second the coach looked away.
Yuuji walked over before standing above him, shielding his face from the sunlight.
“So this is where you disappear every afternoon,” Yuuji commented. “What club is this?”
Motoya lifted one shaky hand weakly into the air. “Itadori,” he wheezed dramatically, “before anything else… please get my water bottle. I am currently witnessing the gates of heaven.”
Yuuji snorted softly.
A water bottle suddenly flew across the court before smacking directly against Motoya’s chest.
“Geez,” Motoya groaned while catching it. “Thanks.”
Yuuji glanced toward the direction it came from before blinking in surprise. “Oh,” he said. “It is the History class guy.”
The guy was not wearing his mask this time and stood near the net stretching calmly.
Motoya immediately noticed his expression and laughed. “Heh, not exactly the friendliest first impression in the world.”
“Hm? Not really. He seems mysterious, but he is okay.” Yuuji tilted his head.
Motoya stared at him. “Really? You have known him for one class.”
“Still.”
“You are unbelievably easygoing.”
Yuuji grinned proudly. “So what club is this exactly?”
Motoya looked personally offended. “Volleyball, the greatest sport humanity has ever created.”
Yuuji stared blankly at the court. “I have literally never played volleyball before.”
“That does not matter,” Motoya replied instantly. “Come on, try it once.”
“...Can I?”
“Of course. We already have enough members anyway, so it is just for fun.”
Motoya stood up before jogging toward the black-haired boy.
“Hey, Sakusa!” he called. “Help me demonstrate something for Itadori!”
Sakusa looked deeply offended at being interrupted mid-stretch. Still, after several seconds of visible irritation, he stood up and walked toward the court anyway.
“Ready?” Motoya asked while tossing him the ball.
Sakusa did not answer verbally.
The next second, he jumped. The spike slammed across the court with terrifying force loud enough to echo through the gym.
Yuuji’s eyes widened immediately.
“Whoa.”
Motoya smirked proudly. “Cool, right? Sakusa was one of the best middle school players in the country. And he certainly will be one of the best in high school too.”
“He is our ace,” Motoya added while lowering his voice slightly. “Even though we are only first-years, everybody already expects him to carry the team.”
Yuuji watched the ball roll slowly across the floor.
“Alright,” he said while rolling his shoulders slightly. “Let me try.”
“…Seriously? One demonstration is enough?”
“Well, you just jump and slap it real hard, right?”
Motoya burst into laughter. “You know what? Honestly? Close enough.”
Several team members gathered nearby curiously while Motoya tossed Yuuji another ball.
“Alright then,” he announced dramatically. “Ready… set… go!”
Yuuji jumped.
The sound that followed shocked almost everyone present. The volleyball slammed against the opposite floor hard enough to bounce violently toward the far wall.
Yuuji landed smoothly before turning around with an excited grin. “Ohhh,” he said brightly. “That actually felt really cool.”
Motoya’s jaw had completely dropped.
“…Dude.”
“Hm?”
“That was insane.”
“It was?”
“What the hell?” Motoya whispered in disbelief. Then suddenly, Motoya grabbed Yuuji’s shoulders excitedly.
“Join us.”
“..I literally do not know the rules.”
“We can teach you the rules later!”
"..You just said this club are full already."
"We can make exception!"
Sakusa seems did not share the same excitement.
The taller boy stared at Yuuji silently with narrowed eyes, his expression scrunching slightly like he had just discovered something deeply suspicious.
Yuuji blinked back innocently.
The staring contest lasted several long seconds before Sakusa finally clicked his tongue softly and turned away.
“…Scary,” Yuuji admitted under his breath after the boy left.
Motoya laughed loudly. “Ignore him. Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he declared while pointing toward the retreating figure, “is a jerk.”