Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 49 - Where the world couldn't see you

You'd gone into this whole insane operation believing that outmaneuvering Gakuganji and Mei Mei would be the most harrowing part. And while going toe-to-toe with those two titans of the jujutsu world had been terrifying – had demanded every ounce of your willpower not to dissolve into a puddle of anxious tears – it wasn't what you dreaded.

No, the real test had always been elsewhere. It lay in confronting the ghosts you carried within.

With a weariness that settled deep in your bones, you shuffled over to your closet and dragged out a small, unassuming box. It had been tucked away on a high shelf, gathering dust, deliberately kept out of sight and out of mind. Months. It had been months since you'd last dared to disturb its contents. Months spent telling yourself that burying the pain was the same as healing it. You'd always been good at compartmentalizing, at keeping your chaos under control.

Except... Sometimes even the most meticulously reinforced walls crumble.

Taking a deep breath, you sank onto the edge of your bed and gently lifted the lid.

Inside was a collection of memories disguised as mundane objects. Of stolen moments and what-ifs that still had the power to leave you breathless. Each object was a tangible reminder of what was, and what would never be.

There was an assortment of gel pens, their ink long since dried. Shino had always insisted they helped organize her thoughts, which you both knew was a blatant lie, just her way of justifying a borderline-alarming obsession with all things stationery. Next to it, a half-used roll of sparkly unicorn stickers – proof that even the toughest sorcerers had a soft spot for childish whimsy. A half-empty bag of hard candies Shino had loved – definitely expired by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to throw them away.

There was more. A battered pack of band-aids. An oversized hoodie.

And then, at the very bottom, a single strip of faded photos. Taken in that horribly lit mall photo booth you'd stumbled upon during a rare moment of downtime, back when the world hadn't felt like it was on the brink of destruction.

Four frames of you and Shino. Faces squished together, your arms slung around each other's shoulders, your laughter echoing through the vacuum of time. A promise of a future that never came to be. A connection that burned bright and fast, leaving a void that nothing – and no one – else had ever quite managed to fill.

Sitting there on your bed, you let your fingers trace the edges of each object. You wondered what Shino would have thought of it all.

Would she have cheered you on, being your own personal hype-woman in the face of imminent societal collapse? Or would she have sighed – that long-suffering, you're going to be the death of me sigh that used to make you laugh – and shaken her head in fond exasperation?

Would she be proud of you? Or terrified? Would Shino even recognize the person you'd become?

The questions swirled in the hollow spaces of your heart, unanswered and unanswerable.

The brutal truth, the one you couldn't quite outrun, was that you'd never know. And that stung.

Because you'd only known Shino for a handful of months. A blip in the grand scheme of things. You'd spent those precious months tripping through training, relying on her steady hands to correct your stance, to guide you through the intricacies of cursed energy. You'd fumbled your way through missions, your recklessness buoyed by the confidence that she had your back, always. You'd bombarded her with endless questions about the jujutsu world, thirsty for knowledge, eager to soak up her unwavering strength in a world that still felt bewildering and vast.