Shadows Of The Honoured One

2. Quite moment

Chapter Two: Quiet Moment's

Takahashi Yumi POV;-

I watched for a while longer.

Satoru was in his element, weaving through the training ground with that infuriating grace of his. His movements were fluid, almost lazy, yet every gesture carried the weight of absolute control. Itadori was trying to keep up, his pink hair bouncing as he threw himself into the exercises with reckless enthusiasm. Kugisaki watched with sharp eyes, analyzing every move, while Megumi stood at the edge, his expression carefully neutral but his posture betraying his attention.

They're good kids, I thought. Rough around the edges, but good.

But I had my own responsibilities to attend to. Paperwork. Always paperwork. The never-ending curse of being a jujutsu sorcerer who actually gave a damn about protocol.

I pushed off from the tree, my footsteps silent against the grass as I made my way toward the teacher dormitory. No one noticed me leave—except Satoru, of course. I felt his gaze on my back, a phantom touch that lingered even after I'd rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

The teacher dormitory was quiet, as it always was during the day. Most of the instructors were either teaching or out on missions, leaving the hallways empty and still. I climbed the stairs to my room, my mind already half-consumed by the stack of reports waiting for me on my desk.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The room was small but comfortable—a bed pushed against one wall, a desk cluttered with papers and scrolls, a bookshelf overflowing with texts on cursed techniques and clan history. The window faced the garden, offering a view of the cherry blossom trees that lined the path.

I closed the door behind me, let out a long breath, and immediately dropped my head onto the desk.

"Ugh," I groaned, the sound muffled by the wood. "I hate paperwork."

The stack of documents stared back at me, judgmental and unrelenting. Mission reports. Incident logs. Reimbursement requests for cursed tool maintenance. A letter from my mother that I'd been avoiding for three days.

I lifted my head, grabbed the first sheet of paper, and started reading.

The next hour passed in a blur of ink and frustration. I filled out forms, signed approvals, and muttered curses under my breath that would have made a lesser sorcerer flinch. My handwriting grew messier with each passing minute, my patience wearing thin.

This is what I get for being responsible, I thought bitterly. Everyone else delegates. I actually do the work.

I was so absorbed in my task that I didn't hear the door open.

I didn't sense him, either—not consciously. But something in the air shifted, a subtle change in the energy of the room that made my fingers pause over the paper.

I looked up.

Satoru was standing in the doorway, his blindfold in place, that soft smile playing on his lips. The one he reserved just for me. Not the theatrical grin he showed the world, but something quieter. Something real.

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.

"Satoru," I said, my voice softer than I'd intended. "Shouldn't you be with the students?"

"They're dismissed for the day," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Yuuji asked me twenty questions about cursed energy, Nobara challenged me to a spar, and Megumi looked like he wanted to strangle me. It was a productive session."