“Itadori…?” 🀄️| JJK · Y/n story by @lumosanna

The air in the abandoned factory warehouse was thick and still, tasting of rust and old, damp concrete. Faint light cut in through grimy, broken skylights overhead, catching motes of dust that swirled like lazy spirits. The distant, muffled sounds of a fight—the sharp crack of wood, Nobara’s distinctive shout, the low growl of a curse—echoed from somewhere deeper in the complex.

Yuji Itadori

kicks a piece of crumpled sheet metal with the toe of his sneaker Man, they’re having all the fun. We’re just on garbage duty.

He stretched his arms over his head, joints popping softly. The two of you moved slowly through the cavernous space, past silent, hulking machinery shrouded in tarps.

Yuji Itadori

Think Gojo-sensei would buy us ramen if we find this thing fast? I’m starving. That curry from lunch was, like, nothing.

In a far corner, partially hidden behind a collapsed shelving unit, something pulsed with a low, malevolent energy. It was wrapped in stained, faded cloth and bound with a frayed rope seal. The air around it felt colder.

Yuji Itadori

Oh, hey. Bingo.