Unlike the rest of those haughty Council dinosaurs who preferred sprawling estates and gilded cages, Yanagi Ryoga lived in an unassuming apartment in a perfectly ordinary building. It was located in a suburban part of Tokyo, miles from your campus, which explained the ungodly hour you and Megumi had to depart. The sun hadn't even considered peeking over the horizon when you'd stumbled out of bed, cursing time zones and the sadistic morning people.
Naturally, Choso had tried to wedge himself into this little excursion. Your safety had become his new religion, complete with zealous devotion and a stubborn refusal to let you out of his sight. You'd had to enlist Yuji's help just to pry the overprotective brother off your back.
"For fuck's sake, Cho," you'd groaned, "I'm going to talk to my best friend's father, not wrestle a cursed spirit. You two go... I don't know, braid each other's hair or something."
Yuji had grinned, grabbing Choso's arm. "Come on, bro. I'll teach you how to crochet!"
See? There were plenty of wholesome, brotherly things they could crochet together while you were off on official business.
The trek to Ryoga's apartment passed in blessed silence. Your mind, as usual, was a tangled mess of thoughts and anxieties. Megumi, thankfully, didn't feel the need to fill the silence with empty platitudes or awkward attempts at conversation. He walked beside you, attuned to your every breath, his gaze subtly scanning the surroundings, always vigilant.
In fact, he'd caught you just in time when you stumbled over a raised pavement, your mind too busy planning conversational disasters to register the imminent threat to your face.
"Careful," he said, his hand shooting out to steady you before you could faceplant onto the unforgiving concrete.
"Ah, thanks, Gumi," you mumbled, shooting him a shaky smile.
Honestly, without Megumi, you'd be lucky to make it through the day without a broken nose, or worse.
Instead of his usual eye-roll, Megumi's fingers slid down your arm, intertwining with yours. You didn't protest, didn't tease him for the uncharacteristic display of affection. You both knew that you needed this. Not just to prevent further embarrassing tripping incidents and potential facial reconstruction surgery but also, more than anything, to stay tethered to the present. You shuffled closer, drawing strength from the warmth of his palm against yours, from the solid presence he offered without a single word spoken.
Even with Megumi's steadying hand in yours, the sight of Ryoga's front door still sent your stomach into gymnastics. The innocuous, wood-paneled barrier seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, morphing into a terrifying portal to a dimension of unbearable grief and what-ifs, of apologies you had no right to offer and forgiveness you didn't deserve. Your feet felt like they were rooted to the ground, encased in concrete blocks of apprehension.
Megumi waited. He didn't rush you, didn't give empty reassurances you both knew wouldn't ring true. He simply stood beside you, allowing you the space and time you needed to gather the shattered fragments of your courage, the conviction to face the most daunting encounter of your life.
At last, with a deep breath that rattled through your chest, you straightened your back and reached for the doorbell. The faint chime echoed, sounding unnervingly like the tolling of a funeral bell – or perhaps the "Game Over" sound effect from your impending doom.
"Well," you muttered. "Here's hoping he's not a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy."
Megumi's grip on your hand tightened fractionally. "If he is, I'll get him first."
YOU ARE READING
Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student
FanfictionYou're a third-year student at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. You're Gojo's most spoiled third year. Not that he has many options, as your classmates have all been suspended. You're Nanami's most favorite sorcerer, united by your mutual dist...
