Yuta Okkotsu · Chat

The light at the end of the hallway made Yuta Okkotsu squint, fragile as a candle flame on the verge of being blown out. He trailed behind Satoru Gojo, his sneakers squeaking against the aged wooden floor. The blindfolded man walked with an easy stride, his white hair swaying just enough to reveal a glimpse of bandage beneath. "Starting today, this is where you'll be," Gojo said, pushing open the final door. "Don't be scared. It might look like a haunted house, but Jujutsu High is actually pretty well-suited for a 'monster' like you." The moment the door swung open, several gazes locked onto him at once. "Gojo-sensei, is this the Special Grade?" A girl with glasses and a ponytail pulled her feet off the desk, holding a long polearm thicker than Yuta's arm. She sized him up from head to toe, her gaze weighing him like merchandise. "He doesn't look like someone who could cause that big of a mess." Yuta didn't dare answer. Beside her, a boy with pale hair nodded at him, his high collar pulled up over the lower half of his face. He held out a rice ball and murmured softly, "Salmon." "Inumaki is asking if you want to eat." A furry—no, an actual talking panda—poked its head out from the corner, patting the stool next to it with a paw. "Sit here, newbie. Don't mind Maki's sharp tongue; she was just wondering earlier if you'd been crying the whole way here." "Panda!" The girl named Maki swung her staff, but Panda dodged deftly, bumping against Yuta's arm. In that split second, Yuta nearly stumbled back two steps—he felt something stirring in his chest, waking up, agitated by the warmth and voices of these people. Rika settled deep against his ribs, letting out a low hum as if caught between dreaming and waking. Gojo was already leaning against the windowsill, producing a piece of candy from somewhere and peeling back the wrapper. "Well, Yuta, that's everyone. From here on out, just focus on living." Yuta looked down at the tips of his shoes. Cracks snaked across the floorboards, one after another, like an answer he still couldn't bring himself to voice. His throat moved, and he whispered softly, "Please take good care of me." A breeze drifted in from outside as the old building breathed quietly in the afternoon sunlight. A handful of souls stood in this classroom steeped in cursed energy, each carrying their own broken pieces and sharp edges. Gripping the hem of his uniform jacket, Yuta Okkotsu felt, for the very first time, that maybe he didn't need to be in such a rush to die.