A Bizarre Adventure That Begins in Jujutsu Kaisen

Chapter 87 Unforgettable at First Sight (2/10)

Saturday, September 2018, 6.

When the phone rang, Anka was sitting by the window at home grading the final exams for her Curse Defense class.

She glanced at the incoming caller ID on her phone screen, and the word "悟" (Wu) was clearly visible.

The singer took a deep breath, as if facing some great test, and pressed the answer button.

"Songstress~" The voice on the other end of the phone drew out, so sweet and cloying that it didn't sound like the 1.9-meter-tall head of the Gojo family, but rather like a large feline whining, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"I'm busy." The songstress answered without thinking, her right hand gripping the red pen unconsciously tightening, the pen tip drawing a sharp red X on the paper.

"You're lying." Gojo Satoru could almost see her guilty expression through the radio waves.

The songstress pondered for a moment, then realized the problem and immediately retorted, "Wait—this has nothing to do with whether I'm free or not, right? Tomorrow isn't—"

Isn't tomorrow the day Mr. Theo and Senior Tsukumo are leaving for Europe?!

Aren't you going to see them off or handle anything like that?

Wu replied casually, "Ah, that? I asked about that yesterday."

Theo said there was no need for such a big fuss, it's not like we're not coming back, let us do whatever we want.

And he delegated authority to both Jay and me—so I immediately approved a leave slip for myself—pretty efficient, right?

"What should we do about Na Jie?" The songstress couldn't help but worry about her relatively reliable junior.

"Hmm~ He has a day off today, and I have a day off tomorrow, so we take turns. He's probably already out on a picnic with his family of four," Wu said matter-of-factly.

Immediately afterwards, this troubled youth, showing no remorse whatsoever and even with a sense of smug satisfaction, announced: "Anyway, I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Dress nicely, let's go on a date!"

—

Before the singer could even finish her sentence, "You self-absorbed bastard," the receiver went dead with a crisp "beep beep" tone.

The phone hangs up.

She stared at the words "Call Ended" on her phone screen, her cheeks burning.

This guy—suddenly talking about a date—

They've been together for over half a year.

I was encouraged by Shoko to give it a try, and then I've been half-heartedly "trying" it ever since.

Even now, the songstress still finds it somewhat unbelievable when she thinks about it.

But over the past six months, reality has not always been romantic.

Gojo Satoru's days are always consumed by the complex reforms in the world of jutsu, making it difficult for him to truly free up a whole day.

Putting aside all work, the number of times I've had a proper date with her like a normal couple is very few.

Most of the time, we just go to work and come home from get off work.

If it weren't for the fact that they always tried to have lunch and dinner together and often stayed overnight at each other's homes, their relationship would seem to outsiders to be nothing like the affection and tenderness that a "normal couple" should have.

Spending the night was fine, since both were sorcerers with physical abilities far exceeding those of ordinary people. By slightly enhancing their physical functions with incantations, they could enjoy themselves to the fullest until dawn.

But even something as simple as eating together often turns into her sitting alone, arms crossed, sulking, because someone is temporarily held back by documents.

On his days off, Wu's most common practice is to teleport directly to her house, sprawl on the sofa, and declare with a straight face, "Today I'm going to stick with the songstress," before watching a movie or playing video games.

The singer would always scold him a couple of times, then resignedly make him tea, squeeze herself into the remaining space on the sofa, and join him in shouting at the screen.

However, after they started dating, Wu became much more respectful in his speech and more considerate of her feelings.

Thinking about it carefully, it's not so bad.

At 9:00 a.m. on June 3, 2018, the doorbell rang precisely on time.

Ange-hime dressed up carefully today, and even wore a little lipstick, which is rare for her.

She wore a white floral knee-length dress with a light beige knitted cardigan over it, and her hair was softly draped over her shoulders with slightly curled ends.

She opened the door, and Gojo Satoru was leaning against the doorframe.

Today he was wearing a navy blue casual suit, sunglasses loosely perched on his nose, and a smile she knew all too well playing on his lips.

He was even carrying a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, pale purple bellflowers.

"Here you go." Wu shoved the flowers into the songstress's hand without further ado, then looked her up and down. "You look beautiful today."

She took the flowers and put them in the vase by the door, whispered a thank you, and turned to get her bag from the shoe cabinet in the entryway.

"So," the songstress slung her bag over her shoulder, closed the door, and looked up at him, "what are we going to do today?"

Gojo Satoru counted on his fingers, giving a rare serious report on the itinerary: "First, we'll do some interesting crafts, then have lunch, in the afternoon we'll go to karaoke, and in the evening we'll take you to Tokyo Dome."

"Tokyo Dome?" The songstress was somewhat surprised. "Isn't that—"

'

"Yes, Namie Amuro's farewell tour."

When Gojo Satoru said this, his tone was nonchalant, but the smile on his lips, which was even harder to suppress than AK's, betrayed his smugness.

"Finally Tour, the last show. Someone played 'Hero' in the teachers' office for a whole week, thinking I didn't hear it?"

The songstress was stunned.

After Namie Amuro announced her retirement, Satoru did indeed listen to the diva's songs on repeat in her office, but how would Satoru know?

"You were eavesdropping outside my office?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I was just concerned about my colleague," Gojo Satoru said matter-of-factly, reaching out to grab her wrist. "Let's go, let's go."

They arrived at a jewelry DIY studio in Shibuya.

The shop is small, but it is decorated very exquisitely.

The light-colored wooden workbenches are neatly arranged, and the glass cabinets display a variety of handmade ornaments.

Just as Anka was about to ask what she was doing here, she saw Gojo Satoru greet the shop owner and lead her to a worktable as if they knew the place well.

Looking at the various tools laid out on the table—a small hammer, tweezers, a file, a spray gun, and several pieces of unpolished silver—she couldn't help but ask, "What are we going to do with this?"

"DIY rings." Gojo Satoru took off his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal a section of his forearm, "We'll make them ourselves today."

"Make your own ring?" The songstress was even more confused. "Alright, since you want to make it yourself, I'll try with you."

Wu picked up a piece of silver and weighed it in his hand. He was unusually silent for a few seconds before speaking.

"You're thirty-one this year, right? I remember you mentioned before that your aunt and uncle have been urging you to get back to your thirties."

The songstress was stunned again.

She remembered; it happened last month.

Her mother called and went on and on about whose daughter got married, whose son had a second child, and why she wasn't worried.

She was upset at the time, and after hanging up the phone, she casually complained a few words to him.

She thought he wouldn't care.

After all, this person seems indifferent to everything and lacks a real understanding of "the troubles of ordinary people".

But he actually remembered everything.

Just like he remembered her favorite singer, her favorite flower, her mother's nagging, and that she hated sweets so she only dared to eat them secretly.

He seemed to remember everything about her.

Gojo Satoru waved the silver in his hand in front of her eyes, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone: "So, let's make a pair of rings. You can engrave whatever you want on them. It's more meaningful to make them yourself, isn't it?"

The songstress stared at the piece of silver for a long time, her eyes welling up with tears.

She blinked hard, forcing back the moisture, and stared at Wu, saying in as normal a tone as possible, "Well! Your taste is so bad, I can't let you decide for yourself."

Wu paused for a moment, then smiled, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

He knew this was the songstress's awkward way of agreeing.

"Then you design it, and I'll do the hard labor." He raised his hands in surrender.