JUJUTSU KAISEN: THE SOLDIER

CHAPTER ONE

Tokyo, Japan — En Route to Tokyo Jujutsu High

9:18 AM — the cat who likes him, and the clueless salaryman

The morning air was cool enough that steam rose faintly from the scorch marks on Hime Satō’s sleeves. They weren’t from the mission—just a byproduct of brushing past a roadside offering shrine she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. She slapped out the last stubborn ember with the casual annoyance of someone extinguishing a mosquito.

Nanami walked beside her in calm silence, the rhythm of his steps as steady as always. His tie was already loosened; a tiny tear on the sleeve of his suit was the only visible sign that they’d spent the last two hours dealing with a curse nest in an abandoned office tower.

“You should avoid narrow alleyways,” he said finally, eyes forward. “They often contain roadside shrines. Or at least check before you walk into one.”

Hime gave a tiny huff. “I know. Trust me, Nanami-san, I’m painfully aware.”

“Clearly not aware enough.”

“That’s rude.”

“It’s factual.”

She shot him a sideways glare, but he didn’t look over. He never rose to her bait—not because he didn’t notice, but because he refused to indulge. Nanami Kento was frustrating that way; he treated danger, coworkers, curses, and Hime’s spontaneous combustion all with the same level of even-tempered resignation.

Still, he adjusted his walking path by a few inches, angling himself so he could intercept any religious hazards before she got too close. He did it so subtly she might’ve missed it if she didn’t know him—Nanami wasn’t the type to coddle, but he was the type to compensate.

“Your technique control was excellent today,” he said after another minute. Straightforward, sincere. “You collapsed the support beams without compromising the entire structure. Efficient.”

Hime blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. Praise from Nanami was so rare and so direct that it always hit with precision.
“…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They walked a few more steps.

“You’re still reckless,” he added.

“There it is,” she muttered. “Balance restored.”

Nanami made a quiet sound—something too soft to be a laugh, but carrying the shape of one. His version of indulging her, she supposed.

A faint breeze lifted the smell of dust and lingering cursed energy from their uniforms. Tokyo traffic hummed nearby, indifferent to sorcerers making their way home before the next inevitable disaster. Hime glanced at Nanami again. His posture was as straight as ever, hands in his pockets, expression neutral but softened at the edges in that almost imperceptible way he got after a job well done.

She wondered if he noticed how she drifted a little closer to him after every mission. How the side of him facing her always seemed slightly warmer. How she trusted him to be the one person she wouldn’t accidentally decay or ignite around.

Probably not. Nanami was observant but somehow oblivious when the attention was pointed at him.

The cat who liked him, and the salaryman who had no idea.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Nanami said suddenly.

“I am not.”

“You are. You make the same face every time.”