Dear Hamlet | YANDERE!GOJO SATORU/READER

TWELVE: THE DARK GLASS, ST. PAUL.

"How did you meet Sato, anyways?"

Gojo was leading you to Jujutsu Tech, the forest bristling with life around you. Bushes and trees had a sharp outline in the blaring sun, the rustling noises giving you the suspicion that someone was listening into your conversations with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, keen on exploiting any weaknesses. But you discard this thought when Gojo turns his head over his shoulder, blindfolded, at your silence.

"I met him at a house party," You answer, stepping over a jagged rock. The paved path crunches under your shoes like munched cornflakes. "I was drunk out of my mind to have accepted his confession."

"What did he say?"

"He said I was beautiful," You say casually, as if your words weren't stirring some primal rage in Gojo. His jaw tightens. "And then he kissed me."

"I see. Well, I'm glad he's not your boyfriend anymore. Seemed to have caused a lot of heartbreak, judging by your diary entries."

You swore you saw a vein pop on his forehead. But you avert your eyes to the sun above, cradled by the twiggy fingers of the wintered trees. You hum a tune in the rustling silence, devoid of any birdsong; a song that you had recently discovered, and Gojo finds himself entranced by your voice: the tune would haunt him, a song that would remain stuck in his head, only alleviated by the source in which it came from.

The temples of Jujutsu Tech come to fruition, their roofs gleaming as though the paint on them was still wet, glimmering under the sunlight. You gesture at them with a jerk of your head.

"Very traditional look you guys have."

"Well, we are operating under the guise of a Buddhist temple school," Gojo says. Then, suddenly, he chuckles to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Man, that old geezer's going to blow a fuse if he finds out about you."

You cock your head to the side. "Old geezer?"

"Principal Gakuganji. There's another Jujutsu school in Kyoto."

"Oh. Who's the principal here?"

"That'd be me," A new voice steps in, and you nearly scream at the sudden intrusion. A tall, bulky man with tan skin comes into view. He had short, spiky black hair, and a pair of sunglasses rested on the broad bridge of his nose. "Gojo, what is the meaning of this?"

"I'm just giving the residential princess a tour of the school~" Then his voice sobers up. "She's (father's name)'s daughter."

"I see." His voice is deep; it rumbles in his chest like the vibrations of an instrument being strummed. You turn your gaze back to the torii gates in which you passed through, the thick red legs gleaming like fresh blood. You were a stranger to blood–though you were familiar with it in literary texts, you were a foreigner to it. But you knew one thing–in fights, the first rule was to minimise your blood being shed. You wondered if Gojo was familiar with blood. You supposed he was. If he was crazy enough to be a jujutsu sorcerer, then he shouldn't have any problem shedding it. Or spill his own.

"(First name)! Let's go meet my students," Gojo snaps your attention back to reality. You mindlessly nod, following him to the sportsfield. There you see the most bizarre of sights: A giant panda was spinning a brown haired girl around, with her screaming, before it let go of her. Your brow furrows.

"What the hell?"

"That'd be Panda."

"Yeah, no shit that's a panda."

"Nope, he's not a panda. He's a cursed corpse. He just looks like a panda."

"Seriously?"

"Yep!"