Chapter 1
Hakuri Yamada had discovered the perfect hiding spot three weeks into her sophomore year at Jujutsu Technical University.
It was tucked behind the old humanities building, where a landscaping oversight had created a small alcove between overgrown hedges and a brick wall that caught the afternoon sun just right. The spot was invisible from the main pathways, buffered from the constant noise of students rushing between classes, and most importantly it was completely deserted.
Or so she’d thought.
The first time she found someone already occupying her sanctuary, she nearly turned around and left without a word. She’d rounded the hedge with her nose already in her book, seeking that precious twenty minutes between her Statistics lecture and her Computer Science lab, only to freeze when she spotted him.
He was tall, lanky, with dark hair pulled back in two messy buns that somehow looked intentional. His eyes were half-lidded, ringed with what looked like permanent exhaustion or perhaps smudged eyeliner she couldn’t quite tell. He wore an oversized band t-shirt for a group she’d never heard of and ripped black jeans and he was currently in the process of lighting what was very obviously not a regular cigarette.
Their eyes met.
Her grip tightened on her textbook. Her first instinct was to apologize and flee but something in his expression stopped her, a kind of resigned understanding like he knew exactly what she was thinking and was too tired to care.
“You’re not gonna narc, are you?” His voice was surprisingly soft, almost monotone with a slight rasp that suggested he’d just woken up despite it being two in the afternoon.
“I. No. I was just,” She stuttered and gestured vaguely back toward the main campus, already taking a step backward.
“Looking for somewhere quiet?” He took a long drag, held it, then exhaled slowly away from her direction.
“Yeah, me too. Well, quiet and discreet,” He waggled the joint slightly, “I’m Choso.”
“Hakuri,” She wasn’t sure why she’d given her name. Maybe because he seemed so utterly unbothered by her presence, unlike the aggressive friendliness of most students who tried to force conversation on her.
“You can stay if you want. I don’t mind sharing the space. I’ll keep the smoke downwind,” Choso settled back against the wall, closing his eyes against the sunlight.
She hesitated. Every social instinct she’d carefully honed over twenty years of introversion told her to leave, to find another spot, to not complicate her carefully structured solitude. But there was something about the way he’d made the offer casual, no pressure, like he genuinely didn’t care either way that made her slowly sink down against the opposite wall.
They didn’t speak again that day. Choso smoked and stared at the sky. Hakuri read a chapter of her textbook. When her phone alarm went off to signal five minutes before her next class, she stood, brushed off her jeans and left without a word.
Choso raised two fingers in a lazy wave, eyes still closed.
The second time was two days later. Same spot, same time, same person already occupying it.
This time, Choso was eating what appeared to be an entire family-sized bag of Doritos while doom scrolling through his phone. He looked up when she appeared, blinked slowly, then shifted slightly to make it clear she was welcome to her usual wall.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied.
She sat. He ate chips with the focused intensity of someone experiencing serious munchies. The sound of crunching filled the space between them, oddly companionable.
After about ten minutes, he offered her the bag without looking up from his phone. She surprised herself by taking a handful.
“Cool,” Choso said, as if she’d passed some kind of test.
By the third week, they’d developed an unspoken routine. She would arrive at 2:15pm, between her Tuesday-Thursday classes. Choso would already be there, in various states of getting high or being high. They’d acknowledge each other with minimal words, share the space in comfortable silence and part ways when her alarm went off.
It was, she reflected, the strangest friendship she’d ever had. If it even counted as friendship. They barely spoke. She didn’t know what he was studying, where he was from or really anything about him beyond his name and his recreational habit.
And yet she found herself looking forward to those twenty-minute intervals. There was something soothing about his presence the way he never demanded conversation, never asked intrusive questions, never seemed to expect anything from her at all.
“You’re really quiet, you know that?” Choso said one Thursday, breaking their usual silence so unexpectedly that Hakuri actually jumped.
“Sorry,” she said automatically.
“Nah, it’s cool. I like it,” He took a drag, exhaled. “Most people can’t shut up. They get uncomfortable with silence, start filling it with bullshit small talk. You just... exist. It’s nice.”
“You’re pretty quiet too,” she felt her cheeks warm slightly.
“Yeah, but I’m high. I’m quiet because forming sentences is hard,” He grinned at her and she noticed for the first time that he had a nice smile a little crooked, genuinely warm.
“You’re quiet because that’s just who you are. That’s different. Better,” He exclaimed.
“I don’t think most people would agree with you.” She disagrees.
“Most people are exhausting,” Choso stubbed out his joint and immediately started rolling another one with practiced efficiency. “I live with four of the most exhausting people on campus. Trust me, I know the value of someone who doesn’t feel the need to perform all the time.”
“You live with four people?” This was the most he’d ever said to her in one go. Hakuri found herself curious despite her usual reluctance to pry.
“Yeah, frat house over on Greek Row. Sigma Kai.” He said it with a slight grimace, like the words tasted bad.
“I know, I know. I don’t really fit the frat boy image. My brothers are... a lot. But the house is nice, rent’s cheap and they mostly leave me alone.” He continued to explain.
“That sounds overwhelming,” She tried to picture Choso at a frat party and failed completely.
“It is. That’s why I’m here instead of there most of the time. They’re good guys though. Mostly. Well, some of them. Gojo’s a menace, Sukuna’s an asshole, Toji’s barely around, and Geto’s too smooth for his own good. But they’re my brothers, you know?” He lit the fresh joint, took a hit.
She didn’t know, actually. She had exactly two friends Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara both of whom she’d met in a freshman study group and who’d somehow decided she was worth keeping around despite her social awkwardness. The idea of living with four other people sounded like a special kind of hell.
“That’s a lot of personalities in one house,” she offered.
“You have no idea. You should come by sometime. They’d probably lose their minds over someone like you,” Choso laughed, a low, raspy sound.
“Someone like me?” She squeaked.
“Yeah. Quiet. Smart. Pretty,” He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it took her a moment to process. By the time she did, her face was burning and Choso was already moving on.
“Plus, Gojo’s never met a challenge he didn’t want to conquer and you’d definitely be a challenge. Watching him try to figure you out would be hilarious,” The dark haired man had continued either not noticing or caring that her face was on fire as he spoke.
“I don’t think,” she stuttered out.
“No pressure,” Choso interrupted, correctly reading her panic finally
“Just saying the offer’s there. We throw parties sometimes. Well, they throw parties. I mostly hide in my room. But you could hide with me. We could be antisocial together in a social setting,” He quickly added.
“That does sound interesting,” Despite herself, she smiled.
“Think about it,” Her alarm went off and Choso waved her off with his usual two-fingered salute. “See you next week, Hakuri.”
“See you, Choso,”
She didn’t think she’d take him up on the offer. She had carefully constructed her college experience to involve minimal social interaction beyond what was absolutely necessary. She had her classes, her two friends, her part-time job at the library, and her hiding spot with Choso. That was enough. That was safe. But then Kento mentioned it.
“There’s a party at Sigma Kai this weekend. Haibara wants to go,” he said over lunch in the library café, where the three of them met every Friday. Kento was methodical about everything, including friendship maintenance.
“I do!” Haibara confirmed cheerfully, gesturing with his sandwich in the air.
“Come on, Nanami. When’s the last time we did something fun? We can’t spend every weekend studying,” The boy said as he looked over at the blonde.
“We absolutely can,” Kento replied dryly, adjusting his glasses. “That’s literally what we’re here for.”
“We’re here for the full college experience. Which includes occasionally going to parties and making questionable decisions. Right, Hakuri?” Haibara countered. Hakuri looked up from her salad, startled to be included in the debate.
“I... don’t really do parties.” She stuttered out, slightly uneasy.
“I know, but maybe just this once? Please? I don’t want to go alone, and Nanami won’t go unless you go,” Haibara gave her his best puppy-dog eyes.
“I never said that,” Kento protested.
“You didn’t have to. I know you, man. You’re only considering it because you don’t want Hakuri to feel pressured if I drag her there alone. So if she agrees, you’ll come too. Right?” Haibara grinned triumphantly.
“Right,” Kento sighed, the sound of a man defeated by logic. They both looked at Hakuri expectantly.
She thought about Choso’s offer. About hiding together in a social setting. About how he’d said his housemates would find her interesting, though she couldn’t imagine why. About how she’d been in college for over a year and had never once stepped outside her comfort zone.
“Okay. I’ll go,” she heard herself say. Haibara actually cheered. Kento looked relieved and resigned in equal measure. She wondered what she’d just agreed to.
