"𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?"
"𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚖...𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍"
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
↳in which:
Ieiri (Y/N), Shoko Ieiri's sister, is currently a first year in Jujutsu Tech, when she meets...
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╚════ ≪ •❈• ≫ ════╝
ﾟ･:*✿ﾟ･:*✿ﾟ･:*✿ﾟ･:*✿ﾟ･:*✿ﾟ･:*✿ﾟ･:*✿
A month and a half had already passed since the second-years asked you, Megumi and Nobara to participate in the exchange event. The three of you had to undergo intense training, both facing each other and fighting against the second-years. Not to mention the amount of falling practice you three sustained.
You were currently at a small room on the dormitory building, hitting a punching bag with all the strength you could master. The school had designed that small room for indoor exercising when the weather was cold or rainy and provided gym equipment, which you used from time to time when no one was available for sparing or training. The others were outside, doing more falling practice and spear training, leaving you to practice in the gym room by yourself.
You wore a black sports bra with matching biker shorts, your hands and knuckles wrapped up in fighting bandages. You had your airpods on, the music cutting you off from the rest of the world, as you tried to stop your mind from over thinking.
"You should know that you're really important to me"
"Promise me that you'll forgive me"
The image of him popped up in your head as your breathing became heavier with each passing second.
"Your classmate died, right? Was that rough? Or did you think nothing of it?"
You clicked your tongue in annoyance, casting your mind back to when you encountered Mai and Toudou.
"I'll have a great time tearing you apart"
A deep scowl appeared on your eyebrows and your face scrunched up with disgust at the memory of Sukuna as the punches you sent towards the punching bag became stronger and stronger.
You blamed him for everything. For the injuries you and your friends sustained, for taking advantage of everything and everyone he could... for Yuji's death. He was the cause.
"Aren't you feeling better now that he's dead?"
One last hard kick sent the punching bag stumbling a few feet away from you. Inhaling and exhaling long, frustrated breaths, sweat trickling down your face and torso, you went to unwrap your hands, deciding to call it a day.
Taking a long, refreshing ship of water, you slowly started taking of the bandages, revealing small red and purple cuts and bruises adorning both of your hands. You hissed in pain as the bandages peeled off of the fresh wounds, the blue-ish color of the bruises now even more evident than before.
