Gardening

Gojo led Seto through the winding corridors of Jujutsu High, their footsteps echoing in the quiet. They stopped in front of a door, plain except for the number etched onto its surface. Gojo, with a flourish that seemed to imbue even the most mundane actions with a sense of drama, pushed the door open to reveal Seto's new accommodations.

The room was spartan, yet it possessed an understated elegance that spoke to the nature of Jujutsu High. The walls were a calming shade of pale blue, with a single window that let in a wash of natural light, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Against one wall stood a sturdy wooden desk, accompanied by a chair, both looking as though they could withstand the rigors of sorcerer training. The bed, simple and neatly made, promised a modicum of comfort in what Seto anticipated would be a demanding new chapter of his life.

Seto entered without a word, surveying the room with a critical eye before finally conceding to fatigue, laying down on the bed. The mattress gave a soft creak under his weight, a silent testament to the long days and nights that awaited him.

Gojo watched the entire scene unfold with an expression of unabashed amusement, clearly entertained by Seto's haughty demeanor and the silent assertion of his independence.

Itadori, trailing behind, finally arrived, dragging Seto's heavy suitcase and placing it beside the door with a thud. He glanced at Seto, still sprawled on the bed, with a mixture of curiosity and slight annoyance. "Do you want a tip or something? Time to leave," Seto said abruptly, his voice devoid of warmth, clearly dismissing both Itadori and Gojo.

Gojo, unable to suppress his laughter, turned on his heel and exited the room, his amusement echoing down the hall. Itadori lingered for a moment longer, shooting a bemused look at Seto's recumbent form before muttering about Seto's difficult personality and making his own exit.

Seto's first night at Jujutsu High was a brief respite in the storm of his ambitions. He closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop him, his mind momentarily quieted by exhaustion. But this tranquility was shattered by the sudden burst of energy that was Satoru Gojo. The door flew open with a force that only Gojo could muster, his voice booming through the small space. "Rise and shine! Time to meet your new comrades," he announced, his enthusiasm undimmed by the early hour.

Seto, jolted awake, glared at Gojo with a mixture of irritation and disbelief. "Get lost," he growled, the desire for a few more moments of peace evident in his voice.

"But that wouldn't be fun, now would it?" Gojo countered, his tone light, almost teasing. The smile on his face suggested he was thoroughly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

With a heavy sigh, Seto conceded, his voice laced with resignation. "Fine. Just let me change."

Gojo, seemingly satisfied with this small victory, left the room with a spring in his step, leaving Seto to prepare for the day.

Seto rose from his bed, his movements deliberate as he selected the kimono he had brought from the Zenin mansion. It was a stark black, a contrast to the usual attire of Jujutsu sorcerers, and it made his green eyes stand out even more prominently. As he dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes, a constant companion, were as pronounced as ever. "Looks like it runs in the family," he muttered to himself, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Stretching, Seto allowed himself a moment of irritation at the day that lay ahead. "What a hassle," he commented to his reflection, before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

The corridors of Jujutsu High were quiet as he made his way towards the meeting point Gojo had mentioned. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor. Seto's footsteps echoed in the silence, a steady rhythm that marked his passage.

As he walked, Seto's mind was a whirlwind of strategy and speculation. Meeting his new peers was not just a social exercise; it was an opportunity to assess potential allies and rivals. Each interaction would be a piece of the intricate puzzle he was attempting to solve, and Seto was not one to miss an opportunity to advance his ambitions.

Yet, beneath the calculated exterior, there was a flicker of curiosity. What kinds of sorcerers would he meet? How would they react to him, an outsider with grand aspirations? These questions lingered in the back of his mind as he approached the designated meeting area, his expression carefully neutral, betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Gojo and Seto made their way towards the training field, the air thick with anticipation. As they arrived, Seto's eyes immediately found Maki, his cousin, whose presence was as commanding as ever. She noticed him too, her reaction a disdainful click of her tongue, a gesture that spoke volumes of their complicated familial relationship.

Gojo, ever the observer of human dynamics, couldn't help but laugh at this silent exchange. "Well, these are the second years," he began, gesturing towards a young man who looked rather unique. "This is Toge Inumaki from the Inumaki Clan." Inumaki's response was as peculiar as his appearance, simply stating, "Salmon," leaving Seto to wonder about the significance of that word.

Gojo then motioned towards an even more unusual figure. "And this is Panda... He's a panda." As if to affirm his existence, Panda greeted them with a polite, "Nice to meet you," his voice surprisingly articulate for a panda.

Seto was momentarily taken aback. *Wait, that's it? He's actually a panda?* The absurdity of the situation didn't escape him, but before he could dwell on it further, Gojo continued, "And her, you already know—your cousin Maki."

Maki, with a hint of sarcasm dripping from every word, didn't miss the opportunity to jab at Seto. "Can't believe the Zenin prodigy is here with us mortals," she remarked, her tone mocking yet not entirely devoid of respect.

Seto, unphased and equally ready with a retort, shot back, "Ah, if it isn't the family's disgrace. What's the matter? Only a panda and the onigiri boy can tolerate being around an anomaly?"

Maki's smile was sharp, a clear indication that she relished the challenge. "I'm looking forward to wiping the floor with you during training," she said, her confidence undeniable.

Before the tension could escalate further, Gojo interjected, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. "As entertaining as this is, I'm not done introducing everyone."

As Gojo led Seto towards the gathered group of first-year students, the anticipation and curiosity in the air were palpable. Nobara Kugisaki, Megumi Fushiguro, and Yuji Itadori watched with interest as Gojo introduced Seto, the latest addition to their ranks.

"Here are your first-year comrades, with whom you'll learn and work. They're quite the entertaining bunch," Gojo declared, his hand resting on Itadori's shoulder, signaling a camaraderie that Seto had yet to be a part of.

Seto, taken aback by the revelation of his placement, couldn't hide his surprise. "Wait, first year? I'm going to be a first-year student?" he questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight indignation.

Gojo's laughter filled the air, unaffected by Seto's dismay. "Of course, what did you expect? We don't give special treatment here," he explained, his tone teasing yet firm.

"But I'm seventeen. I should be in third year, or at least second," Seto protested, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.

"You have to go through all the years like any other student," Gojo responded, his laughter echoing the sentiment that the path through Jujutsu High was one of equal challenge for all.

"What a hassle," Seto muttered under his breath, resigning himself to the reality of his situation.

Turning his attention to the students before him, Gojo continued with the introductions. "This girl here is Nobara Kugisaki," he said, gesturing towards Nobara, who eyed Seto with a challenging gaze.

"If I catch you looking up my skirt, I'll kill you," Nobara threatened, her voice sharp and assertive, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Seto took a moment to assess her, noting her aggression but also her undeniable presence. *She's quite aggressive, not bad-looking either. I'll see later if she comes from a clan,* he thought, intrigued by the potential layers to Nobara's character.

Gojo's introduction moved on to Megumi Fushiguro. "This is your other cousin, Megumi Fushiguro. We really do have a Zenin invasion," he joked, highlighting the familial ties within the group.

Seto's expression darkened slightly as he turned his gaze to Megumi, the so-called usurper of his rightful place as a candidate for clan leadership. "So, this is Fushiguro, the idiot who took my place as the clan leader candidate," Seto mused, his voice laden with disdain. "You're just a scrawny kid," he said aloud, sizing Megumi up with a dismissive glance.

Megumi, unfazed by Seto's hostility, simply raised an eyebrow and replied, "A pleasure," his tone neutral, betraying none of the animosity returned by Seto.

Finally, Gojo introduced Yuji Itadori, whom Seto had already encountered. "And you already know this one, Yuji Itadori," Gojo said, a smile playing on his lips.

"My lackey," Seto declared, looking at Itadori with a smirk.

Itadori, taken aback by the label yet again, retorted, "You're so mean, Seto."

Seizing the moment to assert his perceived authority, Seto commanded, "Fine, bring me an iced coffee from the machine," as he extended a bill towards Itadori.

"I'M NOT YOUR LACKEY!" Itadori protested, his patience wearing thin.

The moment then took a comedic turn as Gojo chimed in, "I'll have a soda," followed by Maki's request for an iced tea, and Nobara's simple demand for water.

Itadori, overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of orders, dashed off to fulfill the requests, muttering, "YOU GUYS ARE CRUEL!" as he disappeared from view.

______________

In the common room of Jujutsu High, the first-year students gathered, their expressions ranging from bemusement to concern as they discussed their newest and most controversial classmate, Seto Zenin. The atmosphere was thick with disbelief and a tinge of apprehension.

Nobara Kugisaki, ever vocal about her opinions, was the first to break the silence. "I still can't believe he set the training field on fire just because he thought the grass was too ugly. Who does that?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with incredulity and annoyance.

Maki Zenin, who knew Seto better than anyone in the room, leaned back, her expression serious. "Trust me, it's best to keep your distance from him. Seto's... dangerous. He's killed a sorcerer over a minor provocation before. Actually killed one of our own uncles when he was just twelve, during a training session. The uncle mocked him for being slow, and Seto lost it. Ended up crushing him with his technique."

The room fell into a stunned silence, the weight of Maki's words hanging heavily in the air.

Panda, always the one to try and lighten the mood, couldn't find the humor this time. "Sounds like a perfectionist maniac," he remarked, his voice unusually somber.

Maki nodded gravely. "Yes, and it's not just that. If a woman made even the slightest mistake back at the mansion, he'd reprimand her by pulling out a tooth or two. He's the worst kind of person."

Toge Inumaki, who usually communicated with onigiri ingredients, simply said, "Salmon," which, in the context of their conversation, somehow conveyed his disapproval and concern.

Yuji Itadori, who had personally felt Seto's disdain, shifted uncomfortably. "But isn't there something we can do? I mean, we can't just avoid him forever, right?"

Megumi Fushiguro, always the strategist, pondered for a moment before speaking. "Avoiding conflict might be wise for now. But if it comes down to it, we need to be prepared to deal with him, together. He might be strong, but he's not invincible."

Nobara huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, I'm not about to let some tyrant push me around. We'll see how tough he really is."

Maki, sensing the rising spirit of defiance among her peers, felt a mix of pride and worry. "Just...be careful, all of you. Seto's not just strong. He's cunning and ruthless. We'll need to be smart about how we handle him."

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Seto Zenin found himself tending to the garden at Jujutsu High, a task he took upon himself out of sheer dissatisfaction with the state of the greenery. "This place is terribly maintained," he muttered under his breath, the sound of water splashing against the leaves echoing his annoyance.

His mind wandered to Nobara Kugisaki, a fellow student whose fierce temperament had caught his attention—not just her spirit, but her physical presence as well. *That girl Kugisaki, she has a terrible attitude, but she's not lacking in looks. Who could give me more information about her?* he pondered, setting the watering can aside and picking up a rake to tidy the area.

The thought of seeking information from Satoru Gojo, the "idiot with the blindfold," as Seto disdainfully thought of him, was immediately dismissed. *He'd only annoy me and make jokes about it,* he concluded, his grip tightening on the rake handle.

As he made his way to the training area, the site of his recent pyrotechnic landscaping, Seto continued to deliberate on his options for gathering intel on Nobara. *My lackey might have some information. I'll ask him later,* he decided, stepping over the charred remains of what used to be grass.

The state of the training field only served to fuel his frustration further. "They really do neglect their green areas here," he voiced aloud, his tone laced with disapproval as he began raking the damaged turf. The meticulousness with which he approached the task was a stark contrast to the destruction he had caused earlier, a complexity of character that seemed to define Seto Zenin.

After hours of diligent work, Seto Zenin found himself deep in the process of repairing and replanting the scorched earth of the training field. His hands moved with precision and care, a stark contrast to the destructive act that necessitated the labor. He couldn't help but grumble about the perceived laziness of his peers and the faculty at Jujutsu High. "People here are too lazy to take proper care of their training ground," he muttered to himself, "I had to burn all the dry grass just to plant new ones."

As he worked, a pair of curious squirrels approached, drawn by the freshly tilled soil. Seto, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, greeted them with a boast. "How about that? I'm pretty great, aren't I?" The squirrels, unimpressed with human achievements, busied themselves with exploring the newly repaired area, their tiny paws padding softly across the ground.

The evening wore on, and as Seto felt the cool touch of the moonlight, he acknowledged the time that had slipped by. "Seems like it took me a bit of time," he observed, gathering his gardening tools. He was ready to call it a day, satisfied with the progress made, when he was suddenly intercepted by a familiar figure.

Maki Zenin, Seto's cousin and a formidable sorcerer in her own right, stood before him, her posture tense and her gaze piercing. "What exactly are you planning, Seto?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Seto straightened up, facing Maki with a smirk that he reserved for moments when he felt particularly superior. "Planning? Why, Maki, I'm merely improving the aesthetics of our training ground. Something you'd hardly understand, given your... limited sense of beauty," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

Maki crossed her arms, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "Oh, I understand perfectly. It's not every day someone decides to play gardener and arsonist simultaneously. Tell me, does burning grass make you feel powerful, Seto? Or is it just compensating for something?" she retorted, her sarcasm matching his own.

Seto's smirk faltered for a moment, taken aback by Maki's sharp tongue. "Compensating? Hardly. It's called taking initiative, something you wouldn't know about, stuck in your little world of denial and mediocrity," he snapped back, his pride stung by her insinuation.

Maki laughed, a sound that held no warmth. "Initiative? If ruining perfectly good training grounds is taking initiative, then I'm happy to remain 'mediocre' by your standards. At least I don't have to destroy something to feel like I've accomplished something."

Seto leaned in closer, his voice low. "Oh, but Maki, destruction is a form of creation. You of all people should know that. Or have you forgotten the true nature of our world? It's kill or be killed, dominate or be dominated. And I don't plan on being on the losing side."

Maki met his gaze, unfazed. "And there lies your folly, Seto. You see everything as a battle to be won, even against the grass under your feet. But true strength isn't about domination; it's about knowing when to fight and when to nurture. Something you've yet to learn."

Seto scoffed, stepping back. "Nurture? Spare me your platitudes. We'll see whose philosophy prevails in the end. Just don't come crying to me when you realize how wrong you've been."

Maki shook her head, a smirk now playing on her lips. "Cry to you? Please, I'd rather have a conversation with the squirrels. At least they know when they've dug a hole too deep to get out of."

Seto's laughter echoed in the quiet of the evening, a clear indication of his amusement at Maki's declaration. "And what brings you here?" he asked, his voice laced with mock curiosity.

Maki, undeterred by his taunts, unsheathed her katana, pointing it directly at Seto. The moonlight glinted off the blade, casting a sharp contrast against the darkening sky. "I'm here to settle our unfinished business," she stated firmly, her posture ready and determined.

"Going to kill me, then?" Seto chuckled, his amusement apparent. The idea of Maki coming at him with lethal intent seemed ludicrous, given their shared history and the complex dynamics of their family.

"I'm not like you," Maki retorted, her gaze steady. "This is just training."

A sly smile spread across Seto's face at her clarification. "Training? And why should I accept your challenge?" he asked, his interest piqued despite his outward disdain.

"Because if you don't, you'll be a coward," Maki shot back, her challenge clear and unequivocal.

At that moment, a squirrel, drawn by the tension or perhaps simply curious, scampered up Seto's leg and perched atop his head. Without missing a beat, Seto reached into his pocket and pulled out a nut, offering it to the small creature. The squirrel took the offering and began to eat, a moment of peace amidst the brewing storm.

Maki raised an eyebrow at the exchange, a silent question about the incongruity of Seto's actions and his reputation.

Seto gently lowered the squirrel back to the ground, watching as it scampered away before turning his attention back to Maki. "Alright," he conceded, "I suppose it's time I remind you of your place in the hierarchy. And just to show you how much I appreciate you, dear cousin, I won't use my cursed technique."

Maki's response was immediate and fierce. "Cursed technique or not, don't underestimate me."

Seto, with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, wielded a small garden trowel as his weapon of choice—a testament to his confidence or perhaps a mockery of the situation. "If I win, you'll answer my questions," he stated, setting the terms of their engagement.

Maki, her curiosity piqued by such an unusual stipulation, agreed. "Fine," she declared, her eyebrow arching in challenge.

"I'll end this quickly," Seto boasted, the moonlight casting long shadows that danced around them as they prepared to engage.

Maki, unfazed and ever ready with a retort, mocked, "Seems like you always do."

Seto's response was swift, a blend of arrogance and assurance. "I assure you, Maki, when it matters, I last much longer."

Their exchange was cut short as Maki adopted a defensive stance, her katana ready. "Well, I've heard otherwise," she countered, the edge in her voice as sharp as her blade.

Seto, brandishing his garden trowel with an air of nonchalance, quipped, "You seem awfully interested in my private life," just moments before Maki launched herself at him, katana aimed with precision.

Their battle commenced with Maki's aggressive advance, her movements swift and determined. Seto, for his part, met her with equal parts grace and mockery, using the trowel not just as a shield but as a tool to deflect, parry, and occasionally, taunt.

Maki's first strike, a clean, horizontal slash aimed at Seto's midsection, was deftly blocked by the unlikely defense of the trowel, Seto's quick reflexes turning the tool from a gardening implement into a viable means of protection. He countered with a swift, low kick aimed at Maki's legs, intending to unbalance her, but she anticipated the move, jumping back to maintain her stance.

The dance of their battle continued under the watchful gaze of the moon, each move and countermove a testament to their skills and the depth of their rivalry. Maki unleashed a series of rapid strikes, each one a deadly combination of speed and precision, forcing Seto to retreat, using the terrain to his advantage.

Seto, ever the strategist, led Maki toward a section of the field he had meticulously repaired earlier. The ground, freshly turned and uneven, proved to be a subtle trap. As Maki advanced, her footing faltered momentarily on the loose soil, giving Seto the opening he needed.

With a deft maneuver, he sidestepped her next attack, using her momentary imbalance to bring the flat side of his trowel up against her side in a light, mocking tap—a clear indication that, had he chosen to, the strike could have been lethal.

The exchange slowed as both combatants took a moment to reassess. Seto, still wielding his garden trowel with a smirk, met Maki's gaze, his expression a mix of respect and challenge.

As the intensity of their duel reached its zenith, Maki launched a frontal attack, her katana slicing through the air with deadly precision. Seto, however, remained unfazed, his confidence unshaken. With a knowing smile, he declared, "It's over," and let go of his trowel, his eyes locked on Maki's advancing form.

In a move that showcased his agility and mastery over physical confrontations, Seto used the palm of his hand to expertly deflect the path of Maki's katana, causing her to stagger slightly from the unexpected redirection of force. Seizing the moment, Seto delivered a powerful uppercut directly to Maki's jaw, the force of the blow nearly sending her crashing to the ground.

But Seto wasn't done. In a move that was both controlling and demeaning, he caught Maki by her ponytail, halting her fall. Maki winced in pain, the grip on her hair a stark reminder of Seto's ruthlessness.

Leaning in close, Seto's face bore a smug smile as he removed Maki's glasses, wanting to see the defeat in her eyes up close. "Let me have a good look at you as you lose to me again," he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension.

Maki, trapped in Seto's hold, could only glare back with a mixture of pain and burning hatred. The physical discomfort was secondary to the sting of defeat, especially at the hands of someone she had so many complex feelings about.

Seto, seemingly bored by the outcome, voiced his disappointment. "How boring. I thought you'd become stronger." With a final, dismissive act, he pushed Maki's head towards the ground, releasing his grip on her hair.

Standing up, Seto brushed off his hands, as if the duel were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "I'm hungry now. So, you'll answer my questions tomorrow," he stated matter-of-factly, turning to leave Maki lying on the ground.

Maki, left in the dirt, clenched her fists tightly, the physical pain of the encounter paling in comparison to the emotional and psychological toll. Once again, she had been bested by Seto, a defeat that was both familiar and freshly painful. The resolve in her eyes, however, spoke of an unbroken spirit, a promise to herself that this defeat would not define her.

As Seto's footsteps receded into the distance, Maki slowly picked herself up, her body aching but her determination stronger than ever. The night air, once filled with the sounds of their combat, now settled into a heavy silence, a silent witness to the enduring rivalry and the unyielding resolve of a warrior beaten but not defeated.

Observing from a distance, Satoru Gojo couldn't help but let out a laugh, his eyes hidden behind his blindfold yet clearly focused on the scene unfolding before him. "Good heavens, this kid is going to be a handful with that attitude of his," he mused to himself, a mix of amusement and concern in his voice. "Especially now, with all these special grade curses popping up."

The night air was still, the aftermath of Seto and Maki's duel lingering like a silent testament to the complexities and challenges that lay ahead for the students of Jujutsu High. Gojo, ever the watchful protector and instigator of growth, knew that Seto's talents and potential were too valuable to be wasted on arrogance and unchecked power.

Pulling out his cellphone, Gojo scrolled through his contacts with purpose. "It looks like it's time to transform that arrogance into something more... constructive. Perhaps a little humility bath is in order," he pondered, the corners of his mouth turning up in a knowing smile.

As he dialed a number, the call was quickly picked up, and without missing a beat, Gojo greeted the person on the other end with a warmth reserved for old friends—or in this case, a well-acquainted acquaintance. "Hello, long time no see, my dear Hakari. Remember that favor you owe me?"

Seto Zenin's stride through the hallways of Jujutsu High was one of bored indifference, his yawns barely concealed as he made his way to the cafeteria. The monotony was abruptly interrupted when he felt a damp sensation on his abdomen. Inserting his hand, he was met with the unmistakable warmth of blood. Maki had managed to cut him during their earlier encounter. Annoyed, he clicked his tongue. "All that effort to avoid staining my kimono, and I end up letting that woman cut me," he muttered under his breath.

At that moment, Nobara Kugisaki happened to be passing by. Spotting an opportunity, Seto called out to her in a commanding tone, "Hey, you, woman, attend to my wound."

Nobara stopped in her tracks, her eyebrow arching in disbelief. "Huh?? Are you an idiot? First, say please."

Seto was taken aback by her response. The audacity to demand politeness from him was something he hadn't anticipated. "It's your job as a woman. I shouldn't have to say please," he retorted, his voice dripping with entitlement.

Nobara crossed her arms, her stance defiant. "Oh, really? Well, it's my job to ignore idiots like you," she shot back, her gaze steady and challenging.

A tic developed in Seto's eye, a physical manifestation of his frustration and anger. No one had ever dared to speak to him in such a manner. As he felt the blood trickle down, threatening the pristine state of his kimono, he was forced to swallow his pride. "Fine, please?" he begrudgingly conceded, the word foreign and uncomfortable in his mouth.

Nobara let out a sigh, clearly unimpressed. "That was the worst request I've ever heard in my life," she remarked, shaking her head. Despite her words, there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "But fine, let's go to my room. I think I have some bandages there."