Shoko's boredom

This was the first time since the four of them had enrolled that they had left Shoko behind to go on a mission.

In the past, no matter how big or small the mission, the four of them had always come and gone together, gathering in a lively group.

Even for routine training on campus or short trips into the field, no one had ever been left alone at Jujutsu High. The sudden Grade 1 Mission today had broken that long-standing, unspoken understanding that they would always go together.

The car disappeared completely at the end of the road, and the cold wind swept past the building once more. In front of the empty dormitory, only Shoko remained standing where she was.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself, withdrew her gaze from the distance, and slowly turned to walk back into the school grounds. The sky gradually brightened, and the pale, weak winter sunlight spread across the ground without a trace of warmth. All of Jujutsu High was far too quiet.

She was used to the noise around her every day. Now that everything had suddenly fallen silent, she felt ill at ease.

Mornings had always been lively. Satoru Gojo would shout without a care, disturbing the peace of the entire dormitory, always brimming with inexhaustible energy.

Suguru Geto would gently rein him in, take his time getting everything ready, and help everyone with the little odds and ends along the way; Qingxiao spent most of his time exercising at the Training Ground, but he always quietly kept an eye on her, reminding her to dress warmly when it was cold, casually asking whether she had eaten breakfast in the morning, and keeping her quiet company for a little chat when they were alone.

But today, every one of those sounds was absent.

Shoko first went back to the dormitory, put her clothes in order, and lay back down on her bed, but she could no longer fall asleep.

Without Satoru Gojo's racket or the low murmur of the others laughing and talking outside, the dormitory was so quiet that she could hear the faint sound of the wind brushing through the treetops beyond the window.

This should have been the sort of quiet she usually preferred, an atmosphere in which she could clear her mind and be alone. Yet now, all it left her feeling was bored.

After lying there for a while, she simply got up and went to the Medical Room.

The Medical Room was never particularly lively, but there were always people around. Students injured during training and the three boys returning from missions would take turns coming by.

Qingxiao often scraped his palms or grazed his forearms during his rigorous training. Every time, he would come to her to have his wounds treated, stay for a while, and help her pass the scattered pockets of free time.

Today, however, the Medical Room was utterly deserted.

The doors and windows were shut tight. Sunlight streamed quietly through the glass onto the desk, and dust drifted slowly in the beams. There were no footsteps, no inquiries, and certainly no tall, straight-backed boy. It was deathly silent.

Shoko sorted the medical supplies and wiped down the instruments on the desk, repeating the familiar work she did every day. But her fingers gradually slowed, and the emptiness inside her grew stronger.

At last, she clearly realized that the source of her boredom had never been the absence of Satoru Gojo's noise or Suguru Geto's gentle way of taking care of things. It was Qingxiao's absence.

She missed the figure who always passed by her window every evening and chatted with her for a while. She missed the person who quietly remembered her preferences and protected her without drawing attention to it. She missed the boy who grew shy and flustered when their eyes met, yet always held a special place for her in his heart.

Those little, unremarkable moments of companionship had long since quietly filled her daily life.

The morning dragged by, without the slightest ripple.

She pulled up a chair by the window and looked out at the empty Training Ground. Every morning, Qingxiao would be there early, training hard and repeating monotonous movements, never slacking off, day after day. But today, the Training Ground was deserted. The cold wind swept across the open space, with not a single person in sight.

Out of habit, she reached up to touch the silver lighter in her pocket. The cold touch of metal came through the fabric, distinct and real.

As her fingertips traced its familiar texture, her longing grew ever clearer.

The wish she had kept hidden in her heart as she blew out the candles last night quietly surfaced in her mind.

At noon, she went to the cafeteria alone. Only she remained at the table where the four of them used to gather. Without the other three laughing and joking around, even the warm food seemed bland and tasteless.

She stayed in the Medical Room that afternoon as well, leafing through dry medical texts, but her gaze kept drifting involuntarily toward the little path outside the window.

That was the path Qingxiao took past the Medical Room every day on his way back from his rigorous training.

At this time on any other day, he would have finished training, strolled over, and tapped on the Medical Room window, casually asking what she was busy with and exchanging a few words of idle chatter.

But today, the path was empty, with hardly anyone in sight, and that familiar figure still failed to appear.

The sky darkened little by little, the daylight slowly drew to a close, and the lights of Jujutsu High came on one after another. The cold wind still howled, and the entire campus remained far too quiet.

Shoko leaned by the window, gazing at the pitch-black night sky beyond the school grounds, with only one quiet thought left in her heart.

I hope their mission goes smoothly. I hope he comes back soon.