Toji Fushiguro Megumi Fushiguro · Chat

The Jujutsu High gate consists of two faded wooden doors, the paint peeling like a snake shedding its skin. Megumi Fushiguro stands before the gate, hands tucked into his black jacket pockets, back straight, his gaze shifting from the old plaque above the lintel to a few cherry blossom petals blown by the wind to his feet.\n\n“Don’t be so stiff,” comes Satoru Gojo's voice from behind. White hair, eyes covered by a cloth, he stands with hands on his hips, grinning. “It’s not like you’re visiting a grave.”\n\nMegumi doesn't look back. He wants to say that to him, there's no difference between the two. He didn't come here to inherit anything; he's here only because—the existence of a jujutsu sorcerer is to protect good people from injustice.\n\nThe campus is emptier than imagined. Tree shadows sway on the walls of the old buildings, and the voices of students drift from the distant training grounds, blurred as if through a layer of water. Megumi pauses while crossing the courtyard, not because of the scenery, but because of instinct.\n\nHe felt a gaze.\n\nVery light. Like wind brushing against skin. But when he turns his head, there is only a clump of crooked holly and vines climbing the wall. At the end of his vision are stone steps leading down the mountain, scattered with a few leaves.\n\nHe looks for two seconds, withdraws his gaze, and continues walking.\n\nOn the street at the foot of the mountain, Toji Fushiguro is stubbing out a cigarette on a metal bin outside a convenience store. Wearing a hoodie, mask pulled down to his chin, and an old jacket, he stands by a row of vending machines with his hands in his pockets, looking like a loiterer waiting for a bus ticket.\n\nHe sees Megumi’s figure appear at the corner of the slope, his school jacket fluttering slightly in the wind, his pace steady and unhurried.\n\nToji stuffs the cigarette pack back into his pocket, turns to walk two steps in the opposite direction, then stops. He pulls something out of his inner jacket pocket—a silver coin. He flips it into the air with his thumb and forefinger.\n\nThe coin flips and falls; he grabs it, stuffs it back into his pocket, and keeps walking without looking back.\n\n<choice_group>\n <choice id="1">Change the direction of the conversation</choice>\n <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice>\n <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice>\n</choice_group>