His voice—despite all the noise—was perfectly clear. Yuzu greeted him with a light, composed bow.
"Good evening."
Her tone was formal, but her voice—slightly husky—betrayed the second cocktail. Or maybe the third.
Airi, on the other hand, didn't hesitate for even a second.
She locked eyes with the black-haired guy and immediately sat down next to him, wearing a smile she knew was irresistible.
"We were already sitting here, but don't worry! We can share it. It's big enough, right?" she said, delighted.
The guy gave her a faint smile, saying nothing. He didn't offer a polite gesture. He didn't move.
But he didn't complain either.
And that, for Airi, was already a small victory.
Yuzu remained standing.
A moment of hesitation.
The air was warm, full of sound, but around them a small pocket of stillness had formed—like a stable center in the middle of chaos.
She was just about to suggest finding another spot when Gojo shifted to the side and tapped his knuckles on the empty chair next to him.
"What, you're going to leave me alone? After all these miraculous encounters?"
She held back a smile and approached him, slowly.
She sat down, with care. Her legs crossed with elegance, her hands rested neatly in her lap.
As if it were some kind of test to pass in silence.
"I didn't want to intrude."
"You only intrude when you're not around. So just to be safe… stay."
The music, from somewhere in the distance, picked up again. The lights danced across the surface of the table like reflections on water.
Yuzu turned slightly, without looking at him directly. Her profile was calm, but her gaze betrayed its alertness.
"Didn't think this was your kind of place."
"I adapt to everything. Even to places full of people yelling and dancing off beat. But I won't lie… tonight you're here, so the atmosphere has drastically improved."
She looked at him, finally.
Fully.
A long, direct gaze that lingered longer than she intended.
Her eyes slightly glossy, but steady.
"You always have a script ready, huh?"
Gojo placed a hand on his chest.
A pause. His kind of pause.
"Me? How insulting. I don't prepare anything. I'm just naturally brilliant. Totally different."
He signaled to the waiter without even really turning around. The confidence in his gestures, the ease with which he occupied the space—it was almost unreal.
"Another drink for the teacher, please. Something that suits her elegant way of pretending she's not tipsy."
Yuzu blushed slightly. But she didn't look away.
"I'm not tipsy."
"You're adorable. That's different."
The words floated in the air, unhurried.
He said it with no pressure. Just as a statement. And for a second, she had nothing to say in return.
Meanwhile, Airi was laughing with that guy—who responded in a quiet voice, short phrases, long glances.
Yuzu threw a quick look at her friend, then turned back to the glass that was now being placed in front of her.
"Anyway, I don't remember telling you I teach."
Gojo smiled softly.
"Sure you did. The day we met at the puppet show. And even if you hadn't... precise gestures, calm voice, the habit of mentally correcting punctuation in people's sentences... teacher, one hundred percent."
Yuzu shook her head, but didn't deny it. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. Her neck loosened.
The new cocktail was placed on the table.
Peach-colored. Maybe a little too sweet—but pretty to look at.
Gojo watched as she took the first sip.
He said nothing.
Not yet.
She turned toward him, serious.
Her fingers still wrapped around the glass.
"What do you really teach?"
He shrugged, as if it were the easiest question in the world.
"Strange things. In a strange school. With very, very strange students."
She stared at him. One eyebrow slightly raised.
"Could you be more vague?"
"I could. But then I'd have to erase your memory, and that'd be a shame—you wear your memories so well."
She laughed—more freely this time.
A real laugh.
Not loud, but complete.
The kind that lingers on your lips after it's over.
She drank again.
Her legs relaxed.
Her shoulders lowered just a bit.
Her posture was the same, but something had changed in the way she sat.
They didn't seem like two people who had just met. They seemed like two who had seen each other in a dream. Or in another lifetime.
Gojo tilted his head slightly.
"You know what strikes me?"
"What?"
"You've never asked why I wear the blindfold."
Yuzu looked at him.
A moment of silence before answering.
"I didn't want to be intrusive."
"...And yet, you're curious."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Gojo laughed.
A full, round sound that rose above the music.
Then he raised his glass and toasted.
He didn't say why.
But he did it toward her.
Only toward her.
Meanwhile, Airi had leaned a bit too close to the long-haired boy. She was laughing brightly, brushing his arm every three sentences.
He, sitting still, didn't seem bothered—but not particularly interested, either.
That guy had the look of someone who understood everything and said very little, and he was captivating precisely because he seemed untouched by the world's usual nonsense.
Yuzu tried to distract Airi with a warning glance, but her friend didn't catch it.
Gojo did.
He leaned in toward her, speaking in that calm, theatrical tone of his, utterly shameless.
"Your friend's going with the 'I'll sit on you until you notice me' approach. Classic. Straight out of the handbook. They're all like that these days."
Yuzu barely held back a laugh. A spark in her eyes.
"Airi's not like that. She's just… had too much to drink."
Gojo leaned in slightly.
Rested his elbow on the table, a little closer to her.
But his gaze never invaded her space.
"Please, don't defend her. She's a glitter bomb, and my friend is a monk with the patience of a retired serial killer. He's handling the situation like a pro."
Yuzu shot him a sharp look.
Fierce, but graceful.
He responded with a disarming smile.
As if he knew he'd hit the mark just right.
Then he nodded toward the guy with his chin.
"Anyway, in case I haven't introduced him yet—this is Suguru Geto. Yes, his name sounds like a manga character. Yes, he knows."
Geto turned to Yuzu with a polite nod. Dark eyes, deep and steady.
"Nice to meet you."
His voice was low, perfectly composed.
"Yuzu," she replied, nodding modestly.
Airi, now basically draped over the far side of the table, blurted out Yuzu's name with way too much enthusiasm.
"She's an art teacher! She's amazing, I swear. Her hands are magical."
Gojo, without missing a beat, put on a shocked expression.
"Magical hands? Tachibana-sensei… what have you been hiding from me?"
Yuzu looked down.
A visible blush.
But more amused than embarrassed.
"It's not what it sounds like."
"It's always what it sounds like. Sometimes even worse."
They all laughed.
Except Geto—who smiled only with his eyes.
And in that moment, it was enough.
Airi broke the mood.
"Yuzu! The subway!!" she exclaimed, grabbing her phone to check the time.
"Damn, it's so late," Yuzu added, standing up quickly, grabbing her purse, adjusting her dress.
"Guys, I really don't want to take the subway. It gives me anxiety. Too crowded, too dark, too… underground. I can't do it," Airi announced.
She grabbed Yuzu's hand, almost as if begging her to stay.
"Let's get a ride home, come on. You can't say no. Please."
Gojo raised his eyebrows, mockingly noble.
"What kind of gentleman would I be if I left two young ladies at the mercy of the Hanzomon line? I've got a car. It's black, loud, and completely mine. Hop in—until they confiscate it, at least."
Yuzu hesitated.
Just for a second.
She didn't usually get into cars with strangers.
But Gojo didn't feel like a stranger.
He felt more like one of those characters who walk into your story… and never walk out.
"Alright," Yuzu said with a sigh.
"Gladly. But first, we need to defuse the glitter bomb," Gojo added in a whisper.
They laughed again.
***
In the side lot of the club, Gojo's car was exactly like him—a sleek black sports car with low seats and the kind of aggressive purr that didn't ask for permission. The hood gleamed under the streetlights, like it had something to say. The windows were slightly tinted. The plate spotless.
Not a single detail left to chance.
Gojo opened the back door with a cinematic flair. An intentional exaggeration, like everything about him.
"Ladies, please. Welcome aboard the Gojo Jet. The trip will be short, but intensely magical."
Yuzu tilted her head slightly, holding back a smile.
She climbed in, sitting next to Airi, who was still laughing and sending random voice messages, completely off-beat.
Geto took the front seat.
The silent shadow at the pilot's side.
The car closed around them with a rich, full sound.
Gojo took the wheel.
One hand, relaxed.
The other dancing over the radio controls.
A click. Then another.
An electronic jazz track came on—completely out of place, and yet somehow perfect. Yuzu gave the slightest shake of her head.
She liked the mood.
Deep, suspended notes, like waves in a still pool.
During the drive, the conversation drifted from topic to topic.
Airi chimed in now and then, forehead resting against the window, eyes half closed and hiccupping between comments.
Gojo kept making jokes.
He mimicked metro announcements—hands cupped around his mouth, windows down—causing pedestrians to turn and stare as he acted like a hyperactive tourist guide on speed.
Yuzu laughed.
Really laughed.
That kind of laugh that resonates in your throat before it reaches your lips.
It was soft. Free.
Like something inside her—tight, quiet—had finally let go.
Every now and then, Gojo glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
But Yuzu couldn't see that.
She'd never seen his eyes.
He didn't look for long.
Just a moment.
The kind of look you give a scene you don't want to disturb.
When they pulled up in front of Airi's building, she leaned forward to say goodbye with a kiss on Geto's cheek.
He moved back with the precision of a samurai and the grace of a door closing slowly.
Yuzu thought—not everyone appreciated her friend's shamelessness, probably.
Chilling politeness.
No words.
Airi stepped out, swaying, arms wide, hands flapping like wings.
She waved far too energetically and then disappeared beyond the building gate, which creaked shut behind her.
In the silence that followed, Yuzu turned to Gojo.
"You can drop me here. I'm staying with her tonight."
Her voice was quiet—but clear.
It didn't explain.
It didn't ask.
Just a line drawn cleanly.
Gojo didn't press.
Just nodded once.
For a moment, he didn't move.
His fingers hovered above the steering wheel, as if weighing whether to speak.
Then his hand slid back and pulled the lever.
The door opened with a clean, sharp sound.
Yuzu stepped out of the car.
She did it slowly, smoothing her dress.
Then she closed the door with a soft, controlled motion.
No sound out of place.
She took two steps.
Then stopped.
And turned.
Gojo was still there.
Leaning toward the passenger-side window, one arm resting on the door frame.
His head tilted—like he was about to say something, or maybe not.
"Goodnight, Tachibana-sensei. You laughed six times tonight. Next time, I'm aiming for eight."
Yuzu looked at him.
The amber glow from the streetlight fell gently across her shoulders.
Her black hair still perfect.
Her lipstick just slightly faded.
She didn't reply.
Just smiled.
Quietly. For real.
Then turned.
And walked toward the entrance.
Slowly.
She didn't look back.
Gojo watched her until she disappeared behind the building's door.
Only then did he straighten in his seat.
Only then did he start the engine.