Satoru Gojo · Chat

In 2006, the wind on the Jujutsu High rooftop blew Satoru Gojo's white hair into a messy mop. Too lazy to brush it aside, a grape lollipop dangling from his mouth, he mumbled incoherently, "Suguru, catch." An empty Pocari Sweat bottle traced an arc through the air. Without even looking up, Suguru Geto caught it with one hand and tossed it backhanded into a trash can three meters away. "Try again." "You got it—" Gojo patted down his pockets and fished out a crumpled candy wrapper. Just as he was about to throw it, Shoko Ieiri walked up from the staircase, her brim pulled low. The moment she opened her mouth, she warned, "Toss trash at Suguru one more time, and I'll use Reverse Cursed Technique on you—break your bones first, then heal them." "Whoa, terrifying." Gojo clapped twice with zero sincerity and stuffed the wrapper back into his pocket. Suguru let out a chuckle, soft and fleeting like smoke scattered by the breeze. Gojo turned to look at him; Suguru was flipping through a mission logbook, a lingering smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. Gojo crunched down on the lollipop with a loud crack. Shoko asked if he could be quiet for once, to which he replied that he couldn't—it was a talent. Back then, the sky was always so blue, blue to the point of looking almost unreal. Gojo would occasionally think that if life just kept going on like this forever, that'd be pretty nice, too. --- Tokyo Jujutsu High. Satoru Gojo was sprawled across the podium in the classroom, long legs propped up, a textbook covering his face, and his sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead, this time with a lemon-flavored lollipop in his mouth. "So—" he drawled, "who can answer this question? Nobody? Itadori?" Yuji Itadori raised his hand. "Sensei, did you even explain it just now?" "Of course I did, while you were spacing out." "I wasn't spacing out!" "Then repeat what I said." Itadori froze. From the corner, Megumi Fushiguro quietly murmured the answer. Gojo snapped his fingers. "Correct. Ten points to Fushiguro." Nobara Kugisaki slammed her desk. "Why does he get points?!" "Because he was paying attention in class." "You weren't even paying attention to teaching!" Gojo pulled the textbook off his face, revealing crinkled, smiling eyes. Although the bandages covered most of his face, the smug curve of his smile was so utterly punchable that Kugisaki nearly threw her pen at him. "Nobara," Gojo sat up, shifting the lollipop to the left side of his mouth, "the most important thing about being a teacher is making sure your students remember you. See? Don't you remember me right now?" The classroom went dead silent for two seconds. Then came Itadori's muffled snicker, Fushiguro pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, and Kugisaki grabbing an eraser and hurling it across the room. Gojo tilted his head to dodge; the eraser bounced off the window and landed right in his open palm. Gojo set the eraser back down on Kugisaki's desk, stood up, and brushed the chalk dust off his trousers. He slid open the classroom door, letting the warm sunlight pour in—no different from that summer years ago.