𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆 | 𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘬.

𝟏𝟎

The weekend came quickly, bringing a sense of relief after the week’s events. It was a beautiful, crisp Saturday afternoon—blue skies, the air cool with the promise of autumn. You were in the living room, lazily scrolling through your phone, when your mother called from the kitchen.

“Honey, I need you to run to the grocery store,” she said, her voice slightly strained as she worked to prepare dinner. “We’re running low on a few things. Can you pick up some vegetables and milk?”

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch. “Sure, Mom.”

“Thank you! Don’t forget the list on the counter,” she added, busy with chopping ingredients.

Grabbing the list, you tucked it into your pocket and slipped into your shoes. The walk to the store wasn’t far—just a couple of blocks. It was a route you had taken a hundred times before, and in the peaceful quiet of your neighborhood, it was almost comforting.

As you made your way down the street, the trees lining the sidewalk swayed gently in the autumn breeze. It felt nice to step outside for a bit, even if it was just a quick errand. The leaves crunched beneath your sneakers, and you pulled your jacket tighter around you as the cool breeze nipped at your skin.

Your thoughts drifted back to everything that had been happening lately—Nanami, Gojo, school, the fake relationship. It felt like your life had taken a strange, unexpected turn in the past few weeks. Who knew pretending to be someone's girlfriend could be so complicated?

The grocery store was quiet when you arrived. You grabbed a basket, quickly picking up the vegetables and milk your mom had asked for. As you headed toward the checkout, you noticed a few of the usual townspeople going about their business—an elderly couple looking at canned soup, a mother with her young child picking out snacks.

After paying, you placed the groceries into a bag and began your walk home, taking the same familiar route down the quiet street.

It was just as you passed the corner near the small park that you noticed something off. A man, hunched over with a hood pulled low over his face, was lingering by the entrance to the park. At first, you didn’t pay him much attention, but as you got closer, you felt a strange prickling at the back of your neck.

Your pace quickened instinctively, but it was too late. In one swift motion, the man stepped out from the shadows, blocking your path.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and menacing. “How about you hand over that bag and any money you’ve got?”

Your heart raced, panic rising in your throat. You clutched the grocery bag tighter, frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. You had never been in a situation like this before.

“I-I don’t have any money,” you stammered, trying to back away.

The man stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a predatory edge. “I said, hand over the bag.” He growled, reaching out to grab it from you.

Fear shot through you, and just as you were about to scream for help, a voice rang out from behind.

“Now, now... that’s no way to treat a lady, is it?”

The robber froze, turning sharply toward the voice. Relief washed over you as you recognized that smooth, nonchalant tone. Gojo.

Gojo Satoru stood a few feet away, hands casually stuffed into his jacket pockets, an easy smile on his face. But despite the relaxed expression, there was something dangerous in his eyes, a sharpness that made the robber hesitate.

“Who the hell are you?” the man spat, glaring at Gojo.

Gojo tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. “Doesn’t matter who I am,” he said softly. “What matters is that you leave her alone. Right now.”