"I leave when people stop doing stupid things and dying," Shoko answered dryly, flipping through a medical chart. "So, no. I basically live under these fluorescent lights."
"Sounds tragic," Ren mused. "How long have you been putting up with Satoru's nonsense, anyway? Did you lose a bet with the principal?"
"Worse," Shoko sighed, the sound heavy with years of suffering. "We were classmates. I've been dealing with him since we were teenagers."
She gestured blindly over her shoulder toward her desk. "Grab me a black pen from that top right drawer, will you? Mine just ran out of ink."
"Yeah, got it," Ren said.
He leaned over and pulled the desk drawer open. It was a messy collection of loose paperclips, spare lighters, and medical tape. But sitting right on top of a notepad was a faded polaroid photograph.
Ren reached for the pen, but his eyes locked onto the image.
It was a picture of three teenagers in Jujutsu High uniforms. On the right was a grinning Satoru Gojo wearing stupid round sunglasses. On the left was a girl with short brown hair, looking mildly annoyed but entirely lacking the deep, soul-crushing eye bags she currently sported.
But it was the guy in the middle that made Ren's pulse jump in his throat. Dark hair tied half-up. A serene, disarming smile.
Geto. The exact same man he had bumped into in the Harajuku alleyways. The monk leading the Disaster Curses.
He picked up the photo, looking from the glossy paper to the exhausted woman standing at the counter, and then back to the paper.
He threw his head back and unleashed the loudest, most obnoxious reaction he could muster.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!"
Shoko actually flinched at the volume, her cigarette dropping a clump of ash onto the floor. She spun around, glaring at him.
"Doctor, is this YOU?!" Ren practically yelled, holding the photo up like he had just discovered a mythical artifact. He looked at the picture, then squinted hard at her face. "No way! You look so... lively! You look rested! What happened?!"
Shoko's expression instantly flattened into a terrifyingly blank stare. The ambient hum of the morgue's refrigerator suddenly sounded incredibly loud.
"Put that back," she ordered, her voice dropping a dangerous octave.
"Did Gojo literally steal your youth?" Ren teased, keeping the photo just out of her immediate reach, playing the annoying teenager flawlessly to mask his racing thoughts. "This is tragic. We need to get you a spa day or something."
"Satoru stole my will to live," Shoko corrected dryly. She closed the distance in two strides and snatched the photo out of his hand with surprising speed, tossing it back into the drawer and slamming it shut.
She leaned over the desk, her brown eyes narrowing at him through the curling cigarette smoke.
"And if you mention how 'lively' I used to look to Maki or anyone else," Shoko threatened, her tone perfectly level but laced with genuine danger, "I will personally ensure your next physical involves a very large, unlubricated needle. Do we understand each other?"
"Crystal clear, Doc. Your secret is safe with me."
...
Ren stepped out of the heavy metal doors of the morgue, leaving the sterile scent of bleach and stale tobacco smoke behind him.
He let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn, stretching his arms high above his head until his shoulders gave a satisfying pop.
His body processed physical fatigue with terrifying efficiency thanks to his newly acquired Heavenly Restriction.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he thumbed the screen open as he walked up the subterranean stone path. He bypassed his messages and opened his photo gallery, scrolling to a locked folder.
It was filled with numerous photos of Maki. There was the spicy photo in his oversized t-shirt she had sent from the dorms , the candid three-second timer shot of her tying up her damp green hair , and a few blurry ones from their peaceful Shibuya shopping date.
He stopped scrolling and tapped on one of his absolute favorites. It was a slightly chaotic, off-center shot he had managed to snap right as she was aggressively lunging to snatch the phone out of his hand, her face flushed a furious, vibrant crimson and her wire-rimmed glasses slightly askew. Despite her lethal reputation as a "walking cactus", she looked undeniably, ridiculously cute.
Grinning to himself, Ren hit the settings menu and set it as his lock screen wallpaper. It was a massive operational risk given the strict necessity of keeping their relationship a secret, but he decided it was worth it.
He locked the screen, his smile slowly fading as the cold mountain air hit his face. The brief moment of domestic normalcy evaporated, replaced by the grim tactical reality of his situation.
What's the next move? he thought, rubbing the back of his neck.
He had successfully ducked out of the Kawasaki stakeout, leaving Yuji and Ijichi to monitor Junpei Yoshino with the Flyhead curse.
He already possessed the meta-knowledge of the entire Jujutsu world and knew exactly how the disaster with Mahito was going to escalate. With his System balance drained but his new Grade 1 katana, Nightfall, sitting in his dimensional inventory , he finally had a weapon capable of effortlessly severing dense cursed armor.
But raw firepower wasn't enough. Intercepting Mahito before the Special Grade could completely groom the bullied teenager or transfigure more innocent humans required flawless timing. If he moved too early, Kenjaku might catch wind of an anomaly interfering with the timeline. If he moved too late, Junpei would die.
Just as he stepped out into the fading afternoon light of the main campus courtyard, his phone vibrated violently against his thigh.
Ren paused, his combat instincts flaring for a fraction of a second. He pulled the device back out, expecting an angry text from Maki demanding his location or a panicked call from Ijichi asking him to return to Kawasaki.