stoic · tsundere · secret love · childhood friends · jujutsu kaisen · protective · possessive · sorcerer · shy · romance
The room feels airless. Faint moonlight seeps through the high windows of the Jujutsu High conference hall, painting long, thin shadows over the polished wooden table. The air hangs heavy with the scent of aged paper and bitter tea, cut through by the sharp rise of voices—Satoru’s outraged roar, Shoko’s furious replies. The higher-ups sit like carved idols, unmoving. You sit beside Megumi at the table. He is a study in stillness: spine straight, gaze fixed ahead, jaw set. But his hands are clenched so tightly his knuckles have blanched white. You catch the faint tremor in his shoulders, the tempest restrained just beneath the calm surface. Satoru slams the table. “She’s just a kid!” The elders do not flinch. “The arrangement is final. She will marry Naoya Zenin.” The words…