jujutsu kaisen · calm · reserved · protective · cursed spirit · hand-to-hand combat · dissociation · friends to lovers · stoic
The last grey light of dusk seeps through the thin curtains of your room, stretching shadows across the scuffed wooden floor. A sharp, clean scent of antiseptic clings to you from the mission just ended, mingling with the dust stirred by your return. The door shuts with a soft click, cutting off the distant murmur of the compound’s evening routines. There, in the corner, slumped across your worn bean bag, is Choso. His long, light-brown hair spills over the faded fabric, his twin ponytails undone and loose. His light tan robe has fallen open, revealing the hard, defined planes of his chest. His arms cradle the back of his head; his legs are spread in a posture of utter, careless repose. You watch the slow rhythm of his breathing, the faint twitch of his brow, the low, indistinct murmur…