Chapter Text
Morning arrives as she comes out of the bedroom with an absolute mess of bed head. She yawns & stretches slightly, the midriff teddy bear T-shirt rising slightly higher "Morning Gojo! Do you want anything for breakfast? Your options are Captain Crunch Berry or Captain Crunch Peanut butter. A wide selection for a college student such as myself I think. Oh, I also have coffee with creamer or tea. Your pick."
He's still on the couch when she emerges, looking remarkably fresh and alert for someone who supposedly stayed awake all night. The blanket is neatly folded on the armrest, and he's sitting upright with one leg crossed over the other in that casual but refined posture that seems to be his default state. When she walk out with that spectacular bedhead and stretching in a way that makes that shirt ride up, there's a slight pause in his movements indicating he noticed, though the blindfold makes it impossible to tell exactly where his attention is focused. He stands up smoothly, running a hand through his own white hair in a gesture that's probably meant to subtly hint at the current hair situation without being rude about it, and his voice carries that warm amusement that seems to be his standard morning greeting tone.
"Good morning to you too, though I'm not sure your hair got the memo that it's time to wake up. It's still trying to achieve liftoff in about six different directions at once, which is honestly impressive from a structural standpoint. As for breakfast, I appreciate the gourmet selection you're offering, but I'm actually fine without eating right now. I grabbed something earlier while you were still asleep, though the offer of coffee with creamer sounds great if you're making some anyway. I'm particular about my coffee though, fair warning. I like it sweet enough that most people would probably classify it as a dessert beverage rather than actual coffee, so feel free to judge my taste accordingly," He moves toward the small kitchen area with the easy familiarity of someone who's comfortable in other people's spaces, though he's careful not to be intrusive or presumptuous about it. There's something almost domestic about the scene, this powerful sorcerer who spent the night protecting her now casually discussing breakfast options like a roommate or close friend rather than someone she just met yesterday. He leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he regards her with what appears to be genuine interest.
"So how are you feeling this morning? Any lingering nightmares or weird sensations, or did you actually manage to get some proper sleep for once? You should notice a significant difference now that the curse is gone. It's like finally removing a weight you didn't fully realize you were carrying until it was lifted. Also, not to be that person who immediately jumps to logistics first thing in the morning, but what time is your statistics exam? We need to make sure you have enough time to eat, get ready, not look like you just survived a supernatural home invasion, and actually make it to campus without rushing. I promised to help you navigate this new world, and that includes making sure your normal life doesn't completely fall apart in the process. Plus, if you fail Statistics 2 because of last night, I'll feel personally responsible and my ego can't handle that kind of failure. I have a reputation as an excellent teacher to maintain, after all," He grins at her.
She looked at him, blinking a few times before quietly laughing & taking her chosen cereal to the couch to eat, "Um haha, maybe we should start off with proper introductions first? You told me your name but never got mine. I'm Noa, nice to meet you. And wow. You really care about education huh? It's kinda sweet. Maybe calling you Gojo-sensei won't feel so weird after all haha. And!"
She point her spoon at him
"I'll have you know that the only reason my hair is suffering is because my hairbrush is MIA. I think it might have got either knocked out the window or to somewhere it normally isn't in the apartment. You know, on account of the informal WWE smack down my living room got to witness last night. Also, let's see it's 8am and… oh shit. My exam is at 8:45." She popped the spoon back in her mouth.
His head snaps toward her at that revelation, and even through the blindfold you can sense the sudden shift in his energy from relaxed morning chat to immediate action mode. He straightens up from his casual lean against the counter with the kind of fluid grace that suggests he's used to moving quickly when situations demand it, and there's something almost comically serious about the way he processes the timeline just laid out. When he speaks, his voice carries that authoritative teacher tone mixed with a hint of playful exasperation, like he's dealing with a student who just admitted they forgot about a major assignment until the last possible second.
"Okay, so we have approximately forty-five minutes to get you from bedhead and pajamas to presentable college student taking a statistics exam, which is definitely doable but requires some strategic time management and possibly minor violations of traffic laws. First priority is finding that brush because while your hair's current defiance of gravity is admirable, it's not exactly exam-appropriate." He looks under the couch quickly, not seeing the brush "I'll check the bedroom and bathroom while you finish eating that cereal at a pace that slightly faster than what is currently happening. We can worry about the coffee situation after we solve the hair crisis and get you dressed in something that doesn't scream 'I fought a supernatural entity last night and all I got was this oversized teddy bear shirt.' Not that there's anything wrong with the shirt, but professors tend to notice when students show up looking like they just rolled out of bed, which in your case is technically accurate but doesn't need to be quite so obvious." He moves toward the bedroom with purposeful strides, already scanning the space with what she's starting to recognize as his standard efficiency when dealing with practical problems. There's something oddly reassuring about having someone else take charge of the morning chaos, especially someone who seems completely unfazed by time constraints and logistical challenges. Before he walks into the bedroom, he pauses & looks back at her with a small smile. "Noa is a lovely name, by the way. You don't hear that name very often in Japan."
His face turns back to that serious look.
"Also, for future reference, we're going to work on your time management skills once we get past this immediate crisis. Being able to sense curses is great and all, but it won't help much if you sleep through important exams because you forgot to set an alarm or check your schedule. Consider this your first informal lesson in balancing the supernatural world with normal responsibilities, though admittedly most first lessons don't involve quite this much panic and cereal consumption. Found it, by the way. Your brush decided to take up residence behind your nightstand, probably got knocked there during last night's excitement." He handed her the brush as he walked back into the destroyed living room "Come get your hair under control while I call Ichiji to come pick us up. "
She took the brush from his hand, starting to tame her hair, "I think the only one panicking is you haha. I appreciate it, but I mean I normally arrive to class 4-5 minutes before the start time. I'm what you'd call 'Almost chronically late' as Professor Ami called it. Plus PJ's aren't the worst thing I've pulled up to class in. There was one time my first year of college I was going on spring break with friends right after an exam, So I just ended up wearing my swimsuit to class. I got the best grade in the whole class though." She stated proudly, taming her hair into a smoother style.
He pauses mid-movement and turns to face Noa, and even though his expression is hidden behind the blindfold, there's something about his body language that suggests he's experiencing multiple conflicting reactions to that particular anecdote. His hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose in a gesture that screams 'I'm dealing with a chaotic force of nature and need a moment to process this information,' and when he speaks, his voice carries equal parts amusement, exasperation, and what might be grudging respect for the apparent complete lack of conventional anxiety about these situations.
"Okay, so what I'm learning here is that you have absolutely zero concern about traditional punctuality or appropriate classroom attire, which honestly explains a lot about why you were so relatively calm about the whole curse situation last night. Most people would be having a complete breakdown, but you're just casually eating cereal and telling me stories about wearing swimsuits to exams like that's a perfectly normal academic strategy. I can't decide if this makes you incredibly resilient or just fundamentally incapable of experiencing normal levels of stress about anything. Either way, it's going to make teaching you interesting because clearly conventional motivation tactics aren't going to work on someone who showed up to class in beachwear and somehow that translated to academic success. Did the professor just give you a good grade out of sheer bewilderment, or was there actual statistical knowledge involved in that achievement?"He watches as she finishes taming her hair into something presentable, and there's a subtle shift in his posture that suggests approval mixed with continued mild concern about her overall approach to life responsibilities. He moves back toward the living room, clearly accepting that the morning timeline is going to unfold at whatever pace she's decided is acceptable regardless of his attempts to inject urgency into the situation.
"Alright, since you're apparently the master of barely-on-time arrivals and unconventional exam preparation, I'll have to defer to your expertise on campus navigation. But I'm driving you there because letting you handle your own transportation when you're this casual about timing seems like tempting fate, and there's been enough supernatural excitement for one twenty-four hour period without adding mundane disasters like missing important exams. Plus, this gives me a chance to make sure you actually show up and don't get distracted by something shiny on the way there, which based on everything I've learned about you in the last twelve hours seems like a legitimate possibility. Go get changed into whatever qualifies as your exam outfit and we'll head out. And Noa, just so we're clear, when we start your actual jujutsu training, the 'fashionably late' approach is not going to fly. Curses don't care about your relaxed timeline, and showing up four minutes when your teammates are already there is a great way to watch someone get eaten. We'll work on that particular character trait once you've survived Statistics 2."
She gave him a deadpan look, "You're wearing a blindfold that seems like it's part of your regular attire." She points out, "And I'll have you know I've never been late, even "Fashionably late" to anything. I just choose not to rush when there is no good reason to. Whether I arrive 20 minutes early or 5 minutes early, the exam is still going to be there. I'm still going to have to take it. No point stressing over that when I got other things, like the exam itself to stress about.
He stops completely at the observation about his blindfold, and there's a moment of absolute silence before he starts laughing, the sound genuine and caught somewhere between embarrassment and appreciation for being called out so directly. His hand comes up to touch the black fabric covering his eyes, and when he responds, his voice carries a self-aware humor that suggests he's fully aware of the irony just pointed out. The way he shifts his weight and tilts his head acknowledges that she scored a legitimate point in this particular exchange, and there's something almost charming about watching someone so confident get gently roasted by a college student who's barely been awake for ten minutes.
"Okay, you got me there. I am literally wearing a blindfold as a fashion statement and practical necessity, which definitely disqualifies me from judging anyone else's clothing choices regardless of context. Fair point, well made. You can show up in whatever makes you comfortable, and I'll keep my opinions about academic fashion standards to myself since I clearly have no room to talk. Though in my defense, the blindfold serves an actual purpose beyond making me look mysterious and vaguely threatening, unlike a swimsuit at a statistics exam which I'm still convinced was just you testing the boundaries of acceptable student behavior for your own amusement." He moves toward the door, grabbing his jacket from where he'd left it draped over a chair the night before, and continues speaking as he shrugs into it with that effortless grace that makes even simple movements look coordinated and deliberate.
"And your philosophy about timing actually makes perfect sense when you explain it like that, which is simultaneously reassuring and slightly concerning because it means you've thought through this approach rather than just stumbling into chronic almost-lateness through poor planning. You're right that the exam will be there whether you arrive twenty minutes early or five minutes early, and stressing about the arrival time doesn't change the actual challenge you're facing once you get there. That's actually pretty solid logic and shows good prioritization of where to focus your mental energy, which bodes well for your ability to handle jujutsu training since that requires a lot of staying calm under pressure and not panicking about things you can't control. I'm starting to think you're going to adapt to this whole cursed energy situation better than most people would, purely because you seem fundamentally incapable of getting worked up about things that don't warrant immediate concern. Most sorcerers spend years trying to develop that kind of mental discipline, and you apparently just naturally operate that way as your default setting. Makes me wonder what you actually do stress about if timing and social conventions don't make the list, though I'm guessing supernatural home invasions probably qualified as legitimately stressful based on how you reacted last night."
She pulled out a pair of baggy workout sweats & a cute pink midriff crocheted sweater. She tied her hair up into a high ponytail, grabbed her bag & headed toward the front door, looking at her destroyed wall before opening the said door, "You know the normal stuff. Like if I don't brush my teeth every day, am I gonna end up as a denture granny when I'm older? Which cereal to eat in the morning, since that's how I start my day. Who my first partner is, & hopefully it's their first time as well so we can be awkward together. Did I leave the stove on this morning? That one really keeps me up at night. I'm scared of fire. Is the email actually from a Nigerian prince or is it a scam? Those kinds of things give me anxiety, ya know? Now where is this driver of yours? I'm curious what type of car a psych patient drives."
He follows her out the door, locking it behind them both with a practiced motion before turning to give her a look that suggests he's processing the absolutely chaotic list of concerns just rattled off while simultaneously trying not to laugh at the psych patient comment. There's something endearing about the way she categorized her own anxieties, the mix of legitimate worries like fire safety alongside completely absurd concerns like Nigerian prince emails, and he can't quite tell if she's being serious or deliberately messing with him at this point. When he speaks, his voice carries that warm amusement mixed with genuine interest in understanding how her mind works, like a teacher who's just discovered their new student is going to be far more entertaining than anticipated.
"So let me get this straight. Supernatural curses that have been haunting your apartment and could potentially kill you don't make the anxiety list, but the possibility of needing dentures in sixty years and whether you left the stove on are keeping you up at night. That's a fascinating priority system you've got there, though I have to admit the fire concern is at least practical and legitimate. The Nigerian prince thing though, that's just common sense. Those are always scams, every single time without exception, and if you've actually been stressing about potentially missing out on royal fortune from strangers emailing you, we need to have a serious conversation about internet safety on top of the jujutsu training. Also, I'm choosing to ignore the psych patient comment because I'm secure enough in my mental stability to not take that bait, even though I'm aware you're testing to see if I'll get defensive about it. Nice try, but I've been called worse things by people far more creative than you, so you'll have to work harder if you want to actually get under my skin with the teasing." He leads Noa down the stairs and toward the parking area, his long strides forcing her to keep pace as he continues talking, clearly having decided that her morning conversation topics are going to set the tone for what promises to be an interesting mentorship dynamic.
"As for my car, it's that black Mercedes over there, the one that definitely doesn't scream government employee teacher salary because I happen to come from family money and see no reason to pretend otherwise. Before you judge my vehicle choices, just know that it's comfortable, fast, and has excellent safety ratings. Now get in so I can demonstrate that I'm actually a perfectly normal driver despite your implications about my mental state, and we can continue this delightful conversation about your hierarchy of anxieties while I navigate morning traffic. I'm particularly interested in hearing more about this concern regarding your first partner and the mutual awkwardness factor, because that's the kind of wholesome relationship goal I didn't expect to hear from someone who showed up to class in a swimsuit. You're full of surprises, Noa." An amused smile takes over his face, "Most of my students are too intimidated or respectful to call me a psych patient within twenty four hours of meeting me, so you're already distinguishing yourself as either remarkably brave or completely lacking in self preservation instincts. I haven't decided which yet, but I'm leaning toward a combination of both."
She gave him a smug look before getting in the car, her eyebrows raised slightly, "If it didn't bother you, then you wouldn't have brought it up haha. I get it though, I'll stop. I'm curious though what it takes to really get under your skin? You don't look like the type of guy, besides when it comes to academics apparently, that would be bothered by much. And I actually like the car though? Not sure why you thought I'd bash you for it.It's pretty & the safety rating is a bonus. I actually believe in safe driving, believe it or not. Though I do prefer the color blue. And It's not about the money from the Nigerian prince, that's just a bonus. It's about the adventure I'd potentially have. Also, what else would you wear for surfing in spring break? Swim suits & my wet suits are practical. I can't help it was an older one & was a tad tight & that the class was majority male. Wearing one to an exam doesn't mean I want my first sexual encounter with another person to be a porno haha."
As she said all this, she was gazed out the window with interest, watching all the people on the street
He settles into the driver's seat with practiced ease, starting the engine and pulling out into traffic while processing the rapid-fire commentary about everything from his emotional responses to swimsuit practicality. There's something almost musical about the way she jumps from topic to topic without pause, and he finds himself genuinely entertained by the stream of consciousness approach she's taking to morning conversation. The car handles smoothly as he navigates through the morning traffic, and when he responds, his voice carries that characteristic blend of amusement and genuine engagement that suggests he's actually enjoying this chaotic verbal exchange far more than he probably should be. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel in a casual rhythm as he considers how much to reveal about what actually bothers him versus maintaining the mysterious teacher persona he usually projects.
"You're right, I wouldn't have brought it up if it didn't bother me at least a little bit, which means you're more perceptive than I gave you credit for and I need to be more careful about what I let slip in casual conversation. As for what actually gets under my skin, that's surprisingly complicated to answer because most things that would bother normal people just roll right off me due to a combination of natural personality and the confidence that comes with being objectively the strongest person in most rooms I enter. But if I'm being honest, what really bothers me is feeling helpless or unable to protect people I care about, which is why I take the teaching thing so seriously and why I spent last night on your couch instead of going home to my own comfortable bed. The idea that someone under my protection could get hurt because I wasn't strong enough or smart enough or present enough, that's the thing that keeps me up at night when most other concerns don't even register as worth my attention. So congratulations, you've successfully extracted a genuine vulnerability from me within our first twenty-four hours of knowing each other," He groans slightly "Which either means you're exceptionally skilled at reading people or I'm getting soft in my old age and need to work on maintaining better emotional boundaries with students." He glances over at her briefly before returning his attention to the road, noting the way she's watching the people on the street with genuine interest rather than staring at her phone like most college students would be doing during a morning commute.
"And I'm for assuming you'd judge the car choice. You're right that it's a nice vehicle and I'm actually quite fond of it after the last couple years, though I mostly drive it for personal use since Ichiji drives everywhere else. Your point about the Nigerian prince emails being about adventure rather than money makes perfect sense now that you've explained it that way, though I'm still going to strongly discourage you from responding to obvious scam emails regardless of your sense of adventure because that's how people end up with their identity stolen or worse. As for the swimsuit situation, I'm choosing to believe your explanation about it being practical beachwear that happened to be worn to an exam rather than a calculated move to distract your predominantly male classmates, because the alternative suggests a level of strategic social manipulation that would honestly be impressive but also concerning in someone so young." She gave him an annoyed look. Does she seriously seem like that type of person to him? "And your clarification about wanting your first sexual experience to be meaningful rather than performative is actually really sweet and shows a level of emotional maturity that contradicts pretty much everything else about your personality so far, which just adds another layer to the puzzle that is you. You're genuinely fascinating in the most chaotic way possible. Teaching you is either going to be the most rewarding experience of my career or it's going to drive me completely insane, and honestly I'm excited to find out which one it ends up being or if it somehow manages to be both simultaneously."