(THO) CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Gojo stood at the edge of the PRT Headquarters’ rooftop helipad, overlooking Lord Street. His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, and the late-morning sun warmed the back of his neck. His blindfold was pushed up, worn like a headband now, letting the breeze tease at his hair.

He didn’t look like someone about to gather a team. He looked relaxed, almost lazy, like he’d wandered up here to kill time rather than that. But he felt it, the weight of what was coming, even though they weren’t here yet.

Gojo knew better than most: just because you chose someone didn’t mean they chose you back. That part was easy to forget, especially when you were used to people orbiting around you. When people fall into step beside you just because you wanted that, maybe out of awe, fear, or blind belief.

But not everyone wanted to be caught in someone else’s orbit.

That was always the catch with students. You could see their potential like a sculptor sees the form within marble—clear as daylight—but if they didn’t believe in it, or you, then none of it mattered. The power stayed locked inside them, unrealized.

Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and the others… they’d chosen him back, in the end. 

He wasn’t so sure about these ones, especially Amy. She’d agreed to come, but reluctantly, and only after he’d made her mom see it as mandatory. That had taken some effort, but Gojo figured it would be worth it in the long run. Maybe Amy would see it as a favor.

Probably not, to be honest. She struck him as stubborn and narrow-minded in all the wrong ways.

Then there was Vista, or Missy as he found out. She’d likely been yanked out of a training session, handed some bureaucratic ‘Special Authorization’ form stamped with all the right insignia, and told to attend a rooftop meeting she hadn’t asked for. Gojo doubted she was thrilled about the opportunity. She was still young enough to believe titles meant something. 

Gojo didn’t care about titles. None of it mattered in the grand scheme of things, mere decorations people used to excuse fear or justify control. But from now on, the only title that mattered was student. That came with expectations, with responsibility, with his protection, and maybe, eventually, with trust.

He turned away from the skyline and looked at the four chairs set behind him.

Only one was occupied.

Taylor Hebert sat with her arms folded, shoulders hunched, mask hiding most of her expression. But her body language said enough: wary, and maybe a tad bit suspicious. She hadn’t spoken a word since she arrived.

Smart girl.

The other three chairs remained empty for now.

Gojo dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled, letting the wind fill the silence.

He knew what this looked like. Dragging together a group of kids—some of them criminals, others heroic teenagers—without their full knowledge or warning or actual consent was maybe not the most tactful move. It would spark rumors, and even outrage. But he didn’t care.

This was important, and not just to him.

If his theory with Brian worked, if the experiment paid off, Earth Bet might actually stand a chance. Not a great one—he wasn’t that delusional—but a fighting chance against what was coming. Against the Endbringers and especially, against Scion.

Even if all they ended up doing was trading one existential nightmare for another.

The rooftop door clicked open behind him.

Missy stepped out first, mouth set in a hard line and back ramrod straight. Her eyes swept the rooftop, landing on Gojo with a look that was a mix of irritation and suspicion. Right behind her came Amy, dressed in civilian clothes, her tired eyes narrowing the second she spotted Taylor.

Taylor stood at the sight of them, though not with aggression. Just a subtle straightening of her spine, the same flicker of defensiveness Gojo had seen when she’d first met him. Like she expected judgment or maybe open hostility.

From what Gojo had gathered, she wasn’t wrong to expect such. After all, Taylor hadn’t endeared herself to any of the Wards during her time as a villain. 

But that was all in the past. 

Gojo turned to face them fully. “Thanks for coming,” he said simply.

Missy wasn't having it. It seemed she was stronger-willed than he had given her credit for. “You dragged me out of Wards’ briefing for this?”

Amy added coldly, “You’re not even going to explain why we’re here?”

Taylor glanced between them but stayed silent.

Gojo raised his hand, palm open. “You’re here because you’re mine now.”

Amy recoiled like he’d slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“As students,” Gojo clarified with a grin. “Not property. I’m not that kind of creepy.”

Missy crossed her arms. “You skipped my chain of command, hijacked my schedule, dragged me into a rooftop meeting with a villain—” she glanced pointedly at Taylor “—and now you’re telling me I’m your student?”

Taylor tensed further, and Gojo moved to stand between them, casual but no less pointed.

Amy spoke softly, but there was steel under the fatigue. “Is this really happening? What is even this?”

Gojo turned toward her, mouth curling into a lopsided smile. “If by ‘this’ you mean an unregistered class of misfits led by an objectively gorgeous teacher who may or may not be rewriting social norms and chain-of-command protocols as we speak? Then yes.”

Missy let out a short, unwilling snort, but Amy didn’t even blink.

He gestured toward the remaining empty chair. “Grue’s still unconscious, but when he wakes up, he’ll be joining us too.”

“That sounds like something a villain says,” Missy muttered.

“Labels are boring and lazy,” Gojo replied. “Student is the only one that matters now.”

Amy’s flat voice cut through the air. “I didn’t agree to be part of this.”

Gojo nodded. “Sure didn’t.”

He let the silence stretch again, then added, “Just because I call you a student doesn’t mean you’re chained to me. I’m not building a cult.”

Missy raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re powerful, all of you. But in my eyes, you are just raw potential waiting for someone to mold you, to offer you a chance to understand the true limits of your own power before you are killed by them.”

That hit, he saw it, as the three of them shifted, however subtly. Taylor’s shoulders twitched. Amy’s jaw tightened, then she looked away. And Missy still stood straight, but she was listening now. 

“I’ll teach you,” he said. “If you want. I’m not going to force you. But don’t pretend I’m not your best shot at surviving what’s coming.”

They didn’t know about Scion. They didn't know what he knew, and frankly speaking, they weren't ready to know yet. But they knew something was coming. They could feel it, even if they didn’t have words for it. These moments were simply the calm before the storm. 

“Why?” Amy’s voice was strangled. 

“Because due to my inaction and arrogance, I’ve lost too many people I could’ve saved. Too many who never got the chance to grow into who they were meant to be. I’m not letting that happen again.”

Taylor looked at him then, really looked. And Amy finally, finally blinked.

Gojo turned toward the horizon.

“I know it’s a big ask, but believe me, I'm here to help,” he said, uncharacteristically soft. “Give me a little trust, and I’ll open a world of possibility previously thought to be closed. That, I promise.”

And that was it. He didn’t press or plead because the next move wasn’t his to make. 

Gojo had chosen them. Now, they had to choose him back.

And if they did…

Class would finally begin.