Chapter Two: Silence Between the Lines

Mission reports piled up like snow outside the windows. Aika Kurosawa sat alone in the archives room, a dimly lit corner of Jujutsu High where old case files gathered dust and whispers of the past. Most didn’t come here unless they had to. But Aika liked the silence. It didn’t demand anything from her.

She was halfway through writing a report when the door creaked open.

At first, she didn’t look up. Footsteps—long, confident—echoed on the floorboards. Her pen paused mid-sentence as she felt it, that familiar hum in the air. Not cursed energy, not danger—something else.

Him.

"Didn’t know anyone still used this place," came the casual voice she knew too well.

She looked up slowly. Gojo Satoru stood in the doorway, blindfold in place, hands tucked in his pockets like he had nowhere in the world to be. But his head tilted slightly when he noticed her.

“I like the quiet,” she said simply, then returned her gaze to the page.

“Same,” he replied, but the way he said it… it sounded like he didn’t mean it.

Aika didn’t answer.

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He wandered toward the shelves without looking at any of the files, fingers skimming the edges of books and old records, like he was searching for something he knew wasn’t there.

“You were at the memorial,” he said suddenly, voice softer now. “Weren’t you?”

Her hand stilled again.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“You weren’t really looking.”

There was a pause. Aika didn’t mean it to sound cold—it was just the truth. She’d stood at the back, like always. Watching. Quiet. Heart breaking not for herself, but for him.

Gojo chuckled lightly, but there was no amusement in it.

“Fair enough.”

He picked up a dusty report from a shelf, flipped through the pages without reading. She could sense it—he wasn’t here for a file. He was here to escape.

Aika closed her notebook gently and stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.

“Sometimes,” she said, her voice quieter now, “I come here when I feel like I’m slipping through the cracks.”

Gojo looked at her then. Really looked.

The moment stretched long. Heavy. Still.

And then—just like that—he smiled. That same small, unreadable smile she’d seen before.

“Good place for people like us, huh?”

She gave a slow nod. “People who don't like being seen... but don't want to disappear, either.”

For a second, something flickered in his posture. A shadow of recognition. A shared truth neither of them dared say out loud.

He didn’t ask her name. Not yet.

And she didn’t ask why he came.

They didn’t need to.

The silence was enough.