The trek back to your den was slow, the weight of the day pressing on your bones like the tide dragging at the shore. Your sanctuary wasn't far from Japan's coast—a cavern half-submerged in salt and shadow, lined with the spoils of your hunts: pelts, sun-bleached bones, and a nest of stolen softness—feathers, down, the shredded remains of things that had once been luxurious.

You stepped inside, scales rippling into human skin, and immediately sighed.

Gojo.

Of course.

He was lounging in the center of your nest like a smug, overgrown cat, his blindfold pushed up into his hair, those infuriatingly blue eyes tracking your every move.

"Gojo," you rumbled, voice still thick with the remnants of your kaiju growl, and flopped onto the nest face-first. The feathers muffled your next groan.

He beamed, undeterred.

"Hey there, baby~" His voice was syrup-sweet, the kind of tone that usually preceded chaos. "Me and Suguru were looking for you all day. Where'd you scamper off to?"

You didn't look at him as he slithered closer, long fingers wrapping around your wrist, thumb stroking idle circles into your skin.

"I was out hunting," you muttered into the down.

Gojo's grin widened.

"Aw, and you didn't bring me back a snack?"

You snorted, rolling onto your back with a huff, sending a few stray feathers floating into the air.

"No, I ate it all. Sorry," you said, voice dripping with anything but apology.

Gojo pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated sulk—but his fingers betrayed him, trailing a slow, teasing line along the dip of your cleavage, his touch feather-light and infuriatingly warm.

"You know we miss you at Jujutsu High," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, honeyed purr that always made your pulse stutter. "I miss you."

The words hung between you, soft and dangerous, like the moment before a lightning strike.

You arched a brow, unimpressed.

"You miss bothering me."

Gojo's grin was all teeth.

"Same thing, baby."

You shook your head, exhaling sharply through your nose as you pushed yourself up from the nest. Feathers clung to your clothes, and you batted them away with a flick of your wrist.

"Come on, then," you muttered, rolling your shoulders. "If we're going to the school, we'd better leave now."

Gojo's face lit up, his grin stretching wide enough to rival the sun. "Yes, yes, of course!" he chirped, and before you could react, his fingers closed around your wrist—tight, possessive, claiming—and the world blurred.

The sensation of teleportation was always disorienting—one moment, the damp salt air of your den, the next, the crisp, cursed-energy-laced breeze of Jujutsu Tech's grounds. The familiar buildings loomed before you, unchanged, as if time itself had paused in your absence.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then yanked your wrist from Gojo's grip, putting deliberate distance between you.

He didn't protest. Just watched, smug and knowing, as you turned toward the main building.

No more running.

You stepped forward, the weight of the decision settling over you like a second skin.

The next time you left this place, it wouldn't be for a long, long time.