The Tokyo evening air was crisp as Aiko stood on the rooftop of Jujutsu High, her long hair dancing in the wind, eyes fixed on the skyline. Below her, the city pulsed with life—utterly unaware that, just hours ago, it had been nearly consumed by curses.
She had won… but the memory of that mission lingered.
The curses, the pain, the thrill of using her full power—and Gojo watching her with that unreadable look in his eyes.
She tightened her fingers around the cursed weapon she'd returned with. It now hovered by her side, responding to her like an extension of herself. Learning to control cursed weapons through telekinetic fusion was no small feat, and it was part of what made her Special Grade. That, and her dangerously sharp instincts.
"Thinking too hard again?" Gojo's voice slipped into the moment, playful but always too close.
She turned her head and saw him standing behind her, hands in his pockets, blindfold low. "You really don't knock, do you?"
"I knock," he said. "I just do it with style."
Aiko laughed, but she could feel it again—that tension, the kind that buzzed just beneath her skin whenever Gojo got close. He moved beside her and leaned against the railing, staring into the distance like he was seeing something she couldn't.
"You did well today," he said quietly.
"Thanks," she replied. "It… wasn't easy."
"No mission ever is. But you kept your cool. That's what matters."
There was a pause. The kind that meant something was unsaid.
Aiko glanced at him. "Why are you really here?"
Gojo shrugged, but his smile was less cocky than usual. "Because you fascinate me."
Her heart jumped.
He wasn't teasing. Not this time.
---
A Meeting of Power
The next morning, Aiko was called into a meeting with the elders.
The room was tense, silent save for the slow, deliberate words of the head council member. "Aiko. Due to your performance in Ueno and your unique cursed abilities, the board has formally recognized you as a Special Grade Sorcerer."
The words still didn't feel real.
You'd think the world would stop when you became Special Grade. That you'd feel stronger, more powerful—more seen. But in truth, it only meant more eyes on you. More expectations. More danger.
"You are now among the ranks of Yuta Okkotsu and Satoru Gojo," the elder continued. "We expect greatness from you."
And with that, she was dismissed.
As she walked out, Yuta waited for her in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a smile. "Guess we're teammates now, huh?"
She smiled back. "Looks like it."
"You ever need help," Yuta said, "just call. Special Grade or not—we all need someone."
Those words would stay with her.
---
Growing Closer
That night, Aiko found herself alone again on the training field. She stood in the center of the wide, grassy circle, manipulating cursed weapons mid-air, bending steel blades with her mind, and slicing through invisible cursed projections.
She spun, ducked, and hurled her spear, calling it back with a flick of her fingers.
One against twenty. Fast. Clean. Focused.
But even as her skills sharpened, her mind wandered.
To him.
To the way Gojo had said "You fascinate me."
She wasn't blind. She saw how the others stared at him like he was untouchable—a god among mortals. But with her, he always let his walls down. He looked at her, like she was more than just another sorcerer.
And maybe… she wanted to be.
---
The Invitation
Late into the evening, Aiko returned to her room to find a note on her table.
It was scribbled in Gojo's unmistakable handwriting:
> "Midnight mission. Just us two. Don't keep me waiting. —S.G."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile.
---
Midnight Hunt
They met in the woods outside the city—where a strange curse had been spotted devouring local wildlife. When she arrived, Gojo was already there, casually lounging on a tree branch.
"You're late," he teased.
"You're always early," she replied.
Their banter quickly turned into battle. The curse was large, fast, and brutal—but nothing they couldn't handle. Working together, they moved in sync. Gojo with his Limitless Technique, Aiko with her telekinetically-guided blades, and cursed energy waves that cracked the earth beneath them.
When it was over, she was breathless, glowing with power—and Gojo was staring at her again.
Not like a teacher. Not like a comrade.
Like a man seeing something… he wanted.
---
The Kiss
They stood in silence for a while, under the moonlight. Her heart raced. Her fingers twitched with residual energy.
Gojo stepped closer.
"I meant it, you know," he said quietly.
"What?" Aiko asked, even though she knew.
"That you fascinate me."
A breath. A pause.
Then his hand came up—gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned in without thinking, caught between curiosity and a feeling she couldn't name.
Their lips met.
It was slow. Confident. Tension melted into hunger.
The kiss deepened, and Aiko's body responded in ways she didn't expect. Her hands slid over his chest, feeling the strength beneath his uniform, while his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.
Her heartbeat was a drum against her ribs.
When they finally pulled away, her voice was barely a whisper. "That… was unexpected."
Gojo smirked. "Not for me."