The Strongest | ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

Chapter 6

When I wake up again, the room is bright with sunshine. I immediately lift my head to look at the chair by the now closed window, but it's empty. I look around. The entire room is empty. When I sit up, I can feel that nothing hurts anymore, but there's a huge dark blood stain on the once ivory sheets. I'm sweating in my uniform again, and the glass of water on the bedside table next to my kives is a welcome sight.

I wonder where Gojo went. When did he abandon his own room? And why? So he doesn't have to be here when I wake up? No matter his reasoning, he's gone, and I can't stand to be in here any longer than I have to.

My own room is just as boiling hot at Gojo's, which is really not surprising considering the fact that the curtains are opened and the sun is streaming right in. I pull them closed before grabbing my bag and hurrying into the bathroom to freshen up.

The hotel is serving breakfast for another hour, and I really don't want to miss it before Gojo will let me walk back to Jujutsu High. I just wish I would know where he is so we can talk about what we're going to tell Yaga. How thick should we lay it on? And do we really think we can manage to stop fighting just like that?

I'm contemplating my options on my way to the dining room, and just when I think I'll have to go look for my stupid colleague later, I spot him at one of the tables. I don't know if he's seen me yet, so I head to the buffet and fill my plate with the delicious food the hotel has to offer.

"We need to get on the same page about what we'll tell Yaga when we get back," is my opening line when I get to Gojo's table.

He looks up at me, but his expression doesn't change, so I sit down across from him. "We're not going back today," he tells me.

My jaw drops so fast that I'm afraid it's gonna hit the table, land in my food, and shatter the plate. "What do you mean?"

I'm kind of glad I can't see his eyes right now. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he looks just as unhappy about this situation as I feel. "I just talked to Yaga." Gojo waves his phone. "He said the deal was we spend the weekend here. It's only Saturday. We can't show our faces until Monday at the earliest."

"Does he want us to kill each other?" I ask, then stab my chopstick into the rolled omelet on my plate.

Gojo snorts, but he sounds thoroughly distressed. Maybe he's now finally realizing that not sleeping for the entire night wasn't such a good idea. But oh, yes, I forgot, he's the strongest. He doesn't need sleep. Bullshit. I can see him sighing into his miso soup, and the white blindfold might hide the tiredness in his eyes, but he can't keep it out of the way his shoulders are sagging.

"I think he wants us to bond," he says a little amused. He, too, realizes that Yaga's request is absolutely ridiculous.

"Seriously, what does he gain from this?" I ask him. "I can't imagine we're bothering anyone that much."

The man shrugs. "Must cost him a lot of money to have us stay here." He throws a look around the room, glancing at the chandeliers and the large buffet and the fancy waiters.

"Might as well take advantage of that," I suggest with a shrug. If our boss wants us to spend the weekend here, together, then he surely won't mind paying for our entertainment. No one says we have to do that together.

Gojo raises an eyebrow. "Are you saying we should stay?"

I frown. "I don't see that we have that much of a choice. Or do you think if we come back today, he'll just accept it?"

Gojo throws his head back in exhaustion and groans. "I never even wanted to be here in the first place. You're one of the last people I'd want to spend my weekend with."

For some unexplainable reason, my lips crack into a smile. "Thank you," I say sweetly, tilting my head to the side. "Asshole. I also don't want to be here." I don't stop smiling until my cheeks hurt.

"Fine, fine." Gojo raises his hands up in defeat. "Two days. Not more. We go back the second Yaga lets us."

"Fine," I repeat his word. "I don't want to see you today, though. No argument. I don't want my relaxing spa day to be ruined by your constant nagging."

"Not a problem," the sorcerer agrees with a nod. "I don't want to see you either. I can't concentrate with your pesky attitude poisoning the air."

My chin drops. "Fine," I snap, maybe a little too loud in the crowded room.

"Fine," Gojo sneers and gets up, pushing his chair back so hard it screeches on the floor and makes people look at us.

"God, could you be any more dramatic?" I ask as I hurry after him out of the dining room.

We end up in the hallway that leads down to the gym and spa. Gojo stops and spins around to look at me. It becomes even more clear to me how tall he really is. I don't exactly know what we're fighting about this time when we basically shout at each other in the middle of the hallway. Maybe we're both just letting our anger at Yaga out on each other. Or maybe fighting with him is just fun because he actually comes up with good comebacks and never runs out of things to say. Also, because he gives me so many reasons to fight with him.

It takes a lady from the gym to slide open the doors and stick her head into the hallway to make us quiet down. "Could you please do this somewhere else?" she asks, obviously trying very hard to be polite.

I'm breathing heavily, and from the corner of my eye, I can see that Gojo's shoulders, too, are rising and falling with every breath he takes. We wait until the lady vanishes back into the gym and closes the door before we look at each other. I'm glaring up at him, and I'm pretty sure that behind his blindfold, he's glaring, too.

"So, I guess this is what Yaga meant," I say, a little embarrassed.

Gojo nods once, then his whole body seems to relax, and he uncrosses his arms. "I guess we really are that bad."

It's a humbling and slightly mortifying realization. It's humiliating to face the fact that our boss might not have exaggerated, and we really did annoy all of our coworkers so much that they had to complain. The corners of Gojo's lips are tugging downward, and I can feel that the atmosphere between us is getting uncomfortable.

"Have dinner together at six?" I ask him, shuffling one foot on the soft carpet and keeping my eyes on it. I don't want to see his reaction.

But when he says, "Okay," my eyes snap up to his face to catch the last glimpse of his smile before he wipes it off his face and nods once. He turns around and heads down the hallway to the elevators. I'm sure he'll go to his room, so I wait a minute or two before I, too, get an elevator to the third floor.