Jujutsu Kaisen Oneshots

Nanami

Note: Every now and then, I will add songs at the top that I feel go along with the story! Listen to them if you please, and enjoy, and feel free to comment and star. I love the feedback  ♡

"God, why is it so cold out here tonight," you ask as you check your phone for the millionth time.

You were a prostitute in downtown Tokyo. While it's not the job you aspired for, it paid the bills and some. You had a new client tonight, Nanami, and even though you've done this a million times, nerves always build up each time. Especially the new clients, since with the recurring ones, you know how to please them.

You check your phone again, this time to look at your camera and make sure your makeup is up to par: sparkly purple eyeshadow with eyeliner sharp enough to cut a diamond, paired with matte black lipstick. You were always good at makeup, thanks to your older sister.

As you glance at your reflection in the camera, the city lights of Tokyo flicker behind you, neon signs casting colorful reflections on the slick pavement. The purple eyeshadow catches the light just right, glimmering under the sharpness of your eyeliner. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the cold air and the pressure of anticipation.

"This is why I hate new clients," You groaned. New clients were always unpredictable. Some were polite, others demanding, and occasionally, there was an odd sense of dread that you couldn't shake. You had learned to mask your anxiety behind layers of makeup and well-rehearsed smiles. It was a job, after all, and you were good at it.

The wind cuts through your thin coat, making you pull it tighter around yourself. As you swipe through your phone, the notification from your client finally pings: Running a bit late. 5 more minutes.

Five more minutes of waiting in the cold. You tap your foot, half-expecting the familiar rhythm of city life to give you some warmth. But tonight, the streets seem quieter, colder.

You check your makeup one last time, adjusting a strand of hair. In a world where appearances are everything, every detail has to be perfect.

You glance around. Any second now.

The rev of an engine brings you back to reality as you see a black BMW with tinted windows pull up and slowly stop in front of you. With a deep sigh, you walk up to the car and get in.

Soft RnB plays in the background as you get familiar with the client. He is not your usual type of personnel, but who are you to judge? He wears a white button-up with khakis slack. A neutral expression sits on his face as you marvel at how deep his cheekbones are.

"Where are we headed?" you ask, afraid of how quiet this man is.

"My house, if that is ok with you." He responds cooly.

The soft RnB beats feel strangely out of place against the quiet tension between you and the man. He exudes an almost eerie calmness, his neutral expression giving away nothing about his thoughts. You can't quite read him, which makes your nerves tighten a bit more than usual.

"Your house?" You repeat, trying to keep your voice steady and professional. This isn't out of the ordinary, but there's something about his calm, almost robotic tone that throws you off. Still, you're used to maintaining control in situations like this.

"Yes. It's nearby," he says, glancing at you for the briefest of moments before turning back to the road. His deep cheekbones catch the low glow of the passing streetlights, and you can't help but notice the meticulousness of his appearance-the perfectly pressed white button-up, the way his khakis fall just right. His neutrality feels calculated.

"Alright," you say, your mind running through the usual protocols you follow with new clients. You slide your phone into your purse, keeping it within reach just in case, and sit back in the car seat. The tension in the air lingers, but you mask it with a small smile, one you've practiced countless times.