After Gojo Satoru left for a mission, the students at Tokyo Jujutsu High noticed that at some point, Yuan Shanxiao had started wearing bandages over his eyes, just like Gojo Satoru.

Zen’in Maki and the others were speechless when they saw him.

“Even if you like him… there’s no need to imitate him like this,” Zen’in Maki muttered with a complicated expression.

“Has Yuan Shan already been corrupted by Gojo?” Panda pondered seriously.

“Salmon!” Toge Inumaki added, without making much sense as usual.

“Ah… could it be…” Yuta Okkotsu thought for a moment, and when Rika leaned on his shoulder, he said seriously, “Is this a ‘Since you left, I’ve become just like you’ kind of thing?”

Yuta Okkotsu, the god of pure love—

—Wait, why does this sound so weird when you say it out loud?!

The moment Yuta Okkotsu said this, everyone stared at him even more awkwardly.

Yuta Okkotsu: ……

“That idiot of a bandage-wearing teacher is only on a mission, not dead…” Maki chimed in.

Yuta Okkotsu: ……

“Sorry, I’ve been reading some books Rika recommended lately…” Yuta explained awkwardly.

When they hesitantly asked Yuan Shanxiao why he suddenly started wearing bandages over his eyes, they received an overly innocent answer from him.

“Because I need to seal my forbidden power—”

Everyone at Tokyo Jujutsu High: ……

“Okay, meeting’s over. He’s definitely just imitating that idiot teacher.”

“Are all kids nowadays stuck in their edgy phase?”

“Salmon.”

“Inumaki, don’t just agree with him—don’t go along with this nonsense!”

Actually, before Gojo Satoru left for his mission, he also fell silent for a moment when he saw Yuan Shanxiao borrowing bandages to cover his eyes.

Although his rational side quickly realized that Yuan Shanxiao was doing this to train his spatial awareness by sealing off his vision, Gojo’s emotional side spoke out faster than reason—

“So, you’ve finally decided my style is better than that idiot in Antarctica, huh?”

Yuan Shanxiao: …?

“Uh… what?”

“…I’m trying to master my technique so I can fly directly to Antarctica without a layover…”

Gojo Satoru: …

Gojo really wanted to grab the kid by the ear and shout, “Just be my loyal fan already!” But he was afraid Yuan Shanxiao would respond with, “Huh? I’m a fan of Antarctica,” which would probably give him a heart attack, so he held back.

“…If you still haven’t beaten me by the time I get back, then forget about going to Antarctica—you’re not going to the North Pole either!”

The boy, who had awkwardly pushed his bangs aside and was fumbling with the bandages, froze for a moment.

His fingers trembled slightly, his lashes fluttered, and he looked at Gojo Satoru with teary eyes, too stunned to say “Okay.”

Gojo Satoru: …

It’s like telling him he can’t go to Antarctica is the same as asking for his life.

Also, don’t tell me your second favorite place is the North Pole?

…

Gojo fell silent.

…What about me?

———

It wasn’t until Yuan Shanxiao started wrapping the bandages around his eyes that he understood why Gojo shaved the back of his head. At first, he thought Gojo just did it because it looked cool. But now, he realized that having hair long enough to brush against the collar of his shirt made bandaging very inconvenient. So, he went to borrow a hair tie from Zen’in Maki and tied up the longer strands of his hair.

At first, he just wanted to give it a try, but when he realized it worked, Yuan Shanxiao thought: …Has it really been that long since I last got a haircut?

Ever since he could remember, he hadn’t really cared about his appearance. After all, he figured he would eventually travel back to his own world. So, when his hair grew long, he didn’t bother cutting it. He also didn’t buy new clothes, wearing whatever was available, and living a life of “whatever, since I’m going to die anyway.”

When his classmates at Tokyo Jujutsu High saw his new look, they started to complain again. “Now, who wouldn’t recognize him as Gojo Satoru’s student when he goes out like this?” “Oh well, imitating Gojo is still better than thinking he has some kind of forbidden power.” “Is there any boy this age who isn’t going through an edgy phase?—Okay, maybe excluding Megumi.”

After they finished criticizing the bandages over his eyes, the students noticed something new.

“Yuan Shan kind of looks like a girl with his hair tied up.”

“Well, he does have fair skin.”

From hiding indoors, afraid of encountering Cursed Spirits.

“His hair is long too.”

Figuring, Will I die? Probably. So why bother cutting it?

“And he’s pretty small.”

Always testing his food ten times for poison, but in the end, it was too much trouble to eat much.

Yuan Shanxiao had no idea what conclusions they were drawing, but after coming to the decision that he “really looks like a girl” with his hair tied up, the group fell into a strange, awkward silence.

Yuan Shanxiao: …?

Yuan Shanxiao wasn’t too concerned about being called girly. As long as they didn’t say he looked like a Cursed Spirit or an insect, he didn’t really care what they said. Plus, he had more important things to focus on right now—

Just as Gojo Satoru had guessed, Yuan Shanxiao was wearing the bandages to block his vision so he could train his other senses to perceive space without relying on sight. Most people perceive space through sight, but there are a few who, even without seeing, can use sound, wind, and even the slightest touch to create a detailed map of their surroundings in their mind. Yuan Shanxiao read that some Jujutsu Sorcerers with strong physical abilities could do this. If someone had maxed out physical stats and was bound by Heavenly Restriction, they could sense everything around them without even looking—

Yuan Shanxiao’s physical abilities, however, were completely average. In fact, because he was constantly paranoid about food poisoning, insects, and residual Cursed Energy in his meals, he was somewhat malnourished.

But Yuan Shanxiao had extraordinary focus. Don’t underestimate the attention span of someone perpetually in fear. They could even mistake the shadow of a leaf brushing their hand for a bug and leap three feet away. His vivid imagination, hyper-awareness, and constant feeling that everything around him was out to get him had honed Yuan Shanxiao’s incredible reflexes.

So, his plan was to use the heightened attention triggered by his fear of the unknown, after sealing off his vision, to compensate for his lack of physical ability and train his spatial perception through his other senses.

That’s why, when Panda and the others approached, even though Yuan Shanxiao couldn’t see them, he immediately sensed them through the wind and their footsteps. His calf muscles were already tense, ready to spring like a rabbit at any moment, but he held himself back, gripping his palms tightly and repeating to himself, Don’t embarrass yourself again.

It’s just your classmates coming to say hi. There’s nothing scary about that.

Yuan Shanxiao tried to calm himself, chanting in his head to resist the urge to run away at the slightest sound.

The students at Tokyo Jujutsu High were all kind.

Even though you can sense their terrifying Cursed Energy… and the presence of their Cursed Tools… but they’re good people.

Don’t be scared. They’re just coming to chat. What’s the worst that could happen?

So Yuan Shanxiao bravely lifted his head and accurately pinpointed where they were. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. We just noticed that Yuan Shan-kun still hasn’t received his new uniform. It looks like you’ve been wearing those clothes for a long time,” Panda said.

Yuan Shanxiao: …

Wait, doesn’t everyone just have two identical uniforms and alternate between them? It’s not like I don’t care about hygiene, it’s just—

“It’s all Gojo’s fault for being so careless!”

Panda’s voice was full of righteous indignation.

“Well, it’s a good thing Inumaki has a spare uniform that should fit you—”

“Salmon.”

“Uh… will it be alright?”

“No worries, Inumaki is about the same size as you. He’s worn this one before, so it should be fine.”

With so many people around, every time someone spoke, the air would shift slightly, and Yuan Shanxiao would reflexively look in their direction. But with so many people talking at once, his head started to bob around like a confused doll, glancing this way and that, until his mind was overwhelmed by all the tension.

So he nodded in a daze. “Alright, thanks, everyone.”

“Everyone here is so kind.”

Ten minutes later, Yuan Shanxiao was being pushed to go change into the new uniform.

Inumaki led him there. The whole way, the white-haired boy kept muttering different rice ball ingredients, but Yuan Shanxiao had no problem interpreting them.

“Oh, so Inumaki-kun wore this uniform before?”

“Hmm? You wanted Yuta to wear it, but he refused…?”

“Because he didn’t want to make Maki mad? Huh? Why?”

“Oh, it’s Zen’in’s uniform, I see.”

“Hahaha, even Gojo-sensei wore this? Is this a family heirloom or something?”

“But Maki seems a bit taller. Will this really fit me?”

“You’re right, if it fits you, it should fit me.”

Yuan Shanxiao nodded, chatting away as he was pushed through the door and, while talking, had already taken off his clothes. He took the uniform from Inumaki’s outstretched hand, but as he touched it, he noticed something odd about the fabric. It felt different from the usual pants. The black-haired boy, with his hair tied up like a girl, suddenly fell silent.

“……”

“Wait, something feels off…”

…

“Hold on, Inumaki-kun, wait, this doesn’t feel right, wait, don’t—”

“Put it on.”

Cursed Speech? Really…?

————

Fifteen minutes later, Gojo Satoru, not entirely comfortable leaving Yuan Shanxiao at Tokyo Jujutsu High, called them on video.

He glanced at his usual students—

Zen’in Maki, smiling a little too brightly, Panda constantly glancing to the side, Yuta sighing for no apparent reason, and then there was Inumaki, and behind Inumaki—

Gojo Satoru: …

A figure with hair tucked behind their ears, a glimpse of a pale earlobe showing. A small section of hair was tied at the back, brushing against an equally pale neck. The figure had their head lowered, showing only a delicate chin and light-colored lips. Their frame was slender, and the legs beneath the school skirt were long and straight, modestly kept together.

Gojo Satoru was puzzled. “Is this quiet student new—”

The quiet student lifted their head.

Their delicate features were gentle and quiet, like a soft mountain shrouded in mist, harmless and serene.

But then he saw those familiar gray-green eyes, and the all-too-familiar dumbfounded look that seemed to say, Huh? What are you talking about?

Gojo Satoru: …

What the hell.