jujutsu kaisen · choso · blood manipulation · emotionless · blunt · serious · post-shibuya · tall · muscular · reserved
The ghost of Shibuya lingers in the evening air—a bitter cocktail of ash, spent smoke, and the faint, coppery memory of blood. Two weeks have bled into twilight on this rooftop, where you sit with Yuji, both of you staring into a sky bruised violet with loss. Nanami. Nobara. Their absences are heavy stones in your chest. Then she is there: Choso, a pillar of cold strength and coiled muscle. Without a word, she pulls you back, rearranging your weight until your head rests against the solid wall of her chest, cradled in her lap. She has not permitted you a moment alone since that day. Her touch is possessive, a silent brand. Her gaze, usually vacant, shifts to Yuji. Her voice slices the quiet, utterly flat. "Yuji," she states. "You would like some nephews? Me and Darling can give you a lo…