The Strongest | ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

Final Chapter - a look in the past and the future

The room-switch incident

I had just gotten back from a mission with Yamazaki and Nomura that had taken us longer than it should have, but we were back, we were fine, and Shoko hadn't even risen an eyebrow today. I was making my way to my room, in desperate need of a shower. I actually just wanted to lie down in bed and close my eyes for one or two moments, but I couldn't. There was work to be done. Students to be taught. Dinner to attend. Besides, did I really want to go to bed smelling like I did? No. So, shower.

In fact, no shower. "Gojo!" I bellowed when I stood inside my room and saw what he had done to it. "Where the hell is my stuff?"

I slammed my door shut behind myself and stomped a few doors down the hallway to his room to shout at him. When I ripped open his door, my blood pressure rose to dangerous levels. What had he done? How the fuck had he gotten all of my stuff in here and all of his stuff into my room? I hadn't even been gone for that long! A few hours, maybe, but not long enough for him to spontaneously come up with shit like this.

I could feel a presence next to me and whipped around, ready to bite the blindfolded fucker's head off, but it was only Nanami. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and was pursing his lips. Usually, I was kind of intimidated by him, but right now, I knew that his discontent wasn't directed at me.

"I'm going to murder him," I said, staring at my books neatly placed on Gojo's shelf, my clothes in his closet, and my shoes in a row on his floor.

"Enjoy," Nanami replied just as dryly.

Throwing him a weak chuckle was all I could do. He walked away, but I didn't even care. Gojo was nowhere to be seen, so I guessed I had to take care if this myself. Ready to tear his things apart, I grabbed whatever I could get my hands on, and when I was sure I couldn't accidentally break anything, I flung it out into the hallway. Books, clothes, and piles of stupid fucking blindfolds landed outside of my room.

"He'll pay for this," I grumbled to myself as I was kneeling on the floor and throwing another book that I had found under my bed over my shoulder. He had left books under my bed? What was wrong with him? "Why is he so damn thorough?" I asked myself out loud.

Wanting to get back on my feet, I pulled myself up on my bed until I realized -

Oh, he had not. I stormed outside, kicked his stuff out of the way, and bolted into his room. "MY MATTRESS?" I shouted after getting confirmation. "HE SWITCHED MY DAMN MATTRESS?"

Oh, he had gone too far. Way too far. This stupid, stupid- I couldn't even put it into words. Once my room was empty and the hallway was filled with his garbage, I started carrying my own stuff back into my room. Books, clothes, shoes, even pictures from my dresser.

"Oh." I pulled a face. "Oh, no, why would he do this?" He had taken my dirty laundry? My dirty? Laundry? "He needs serious help. Professional help."

While I was busy fitting as much of my stuff into my arms as possible so I didn't have to make as many trips back and forth, I could tell that a few of my coworkers passed me from time to time, but no one said hello or stopped even long enough for me to look at them. They could see that I was not in the mood for anyone or anything.

My dirty laundry landed back in my basket, my books on my shelf, and my clothes in my closet. My picture frames were placed on my dresser, and I lined up my shoes next to my door, all while contemplating what I could do to get back at him.

When everything was back in its rightful place, there was only one thing left. I stood in my room, my hands in my sides, and stared at his mattress in my bed. How was I supposed to get that heavy thing out of here and mine back in? I couldn't believe that he had done this, but that wasn't even the worst. The worst thing was that he made me tidy it up all by myself.