𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 | 𝐒. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 ✔️

Chapter V

"There's definitely something," Geto says, circling me like I'm some kind of exhibit. His hand is on his chin, his eyes squinting as he studies me. "But I can't figure out what."

Shoko, standing directly in front of me, leans forward slightly, her intense stare boring into me like she's trying to read my soul. Her head tilts, and I resist the urge to back away.

"Okay, seriously," I say, forcing a laugh and trying not to look guilty. "What's with the looks?"

"You're off," Shoko says bluntly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Something's... different."

"I'm not off," I say quickly. Too quickly. I clear my throat and try again. "I'm perfectly fine. Totally normal."

Geto raises an eyebrow. "You sure? You're walking weird."

I freeze. "I'm not walking weird."

"You're definitely walking weird," Shoko adds, nodding. "And standing weird. And talking weird."

I rub the back of my neck, trying to play it cool. "Wow, thanks for the boost in confidence, guys. Really needed that today."

Geto hums thoughtfully, leaning closer. "No, seriously. Are you sick or something? Or did you hit your head?"

"Maybe he's got amnesia," Shoko suggests with a shrug.

"I don't have amnesia," I snap, then immediately regret it because my voice comes out way too defensive. Both of them exchange a look, and I feel like I've just dug my own grave.

Geto narrows his eyes. "Then what's up, Gojo? Because this is not your usual vibe."

Shoko crosses her arms. "Yeah. Usually, you're annoyingly cocky. Now you're just... weird."

"I'm fine," I insist, forcing the smirk I've seen Gojo wear a million times. It probably looks terrible, but it's all I've got. "You guys are imagining things."

Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn't push further. Geto, however, leans in closer, and I swear I can feel my heart rate skyrocketing.

"You sure about that?" he says, his voice low and skeptical.

"Positive," I say, stepping back and pretending to stretch like I couldn't care less about their interrogation. "Now, if you're done psychoanalyzing me, I've got better things to do."

"Like what?" Shoko deadpans. "You've never done anything productive in your life."

I laugh awkwardly. "Ha, yeah... you got me." My mind is racing, trying to come up with an excuse. "Guess I'll... go annoy some underclassmen or something. Later!"

Before either of them can say anything else, I turn and walk away as casually as I can, feeling their suspicious eyes on my back the entire time.

As I make my way through the day, I try—really try—to look and act like Gojo. It's not easy. Everyone expects him to be this overconfident, larger-than-life guy, and here I am, trying not to collapse under the pressure.

I lean back in my seat during free periods, toss out a few smug grins, and even throw in a couple of sarcastic comments here and there. It's exhausting. People laugh, and some girls giggle, but it all feels so forced. I catch myself biting my nails at one point—my habit—and I have to stop immediately. Gojo wouldn't do that.

When it comes to actual class, though? I'm dead silent. I keep my head down, hoping nobody notices. The teachers, of course, do.

"Gojo Satoru, quiet for once?" my literature teacher asks, peering over her glasses.

"Uh... just not feeling talkative today," I mutter, keeping my answer short.

The class bursts into whispers and snickers, and I can feel everyone staring at me. Great. Just great.