Chapter Text
“You want to leave Japan and study overseas?” Himari mumbles, her brow furrowing as if you had just suggested the two of you relocate to another planet.
You give her an eager nod, the excitement bubbling up in your chest until it's hard to keep still. “Yes! Did you not hear me the first time? Overseas, Himari. Just imagine it.”
She blinks, still processing your words. “I just—you’ve never mentioned it before. I always assumed we’d just stay local. What schools do you even have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could try for the Ivies,” you say, leaning in closer. It’s a gamble, but you’ve already thought of it ever since your graduation and calculated the risks. “My parents will agree if they know you’re with me. Besides, with my brother already at Harvard on a full ride, the path is already paved. I think they’re actually expecting me to follow in his footsteps.”
Himari lets out a slow breath, that familiar, adventurous smile finally tugging at her lips. “Mm, I guess! If you’re going, there’s no way I’m staying behind.”
Damn right!
Months of frantic applications and late-night study sessions pass in a blur until, finally, the day arrives. When the envelopes appear in the mail, you don't even wait to get inside. You tear them open right there on the porch, screams of pure joy echoing through the neighborhood as the two of you collapse into each other, hugging so tight it’s hard to breathe.
You were sooo going.
The flight to JFK was a long fourteen-hour flight that was mostly composed of cramped legs and nervous anticipation. By the time the two of you finally stepped onto the cobblestones of Columbia’s Morningside Heights campus, you'd realized New York felt nothing like the air back home.
It was intimidating. It was grand. But it was everything you had worked hard for.
You did it for your freedom and success.
“We actually did it,” Himari breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the towering columns of the library. Even after a long flight, she was already drawing the eyes of passing upperclassmen.
You, on the other hand, only felt the weight of your laptop bag digging into your shoulder. You had gotten in with a full scholarship—a prestigious but heavy burden that demanded a consistent GPA. Himari had made it too, her own merit earning her a partial scholarship that her parents were more than happy to top off. You were both here on your own terms, but the stakes felt different for you. If you stumbled, you lost everything.
While Himari was busy admiring the place, you were already mapping out the quickest routes to the lecture halls. You didn't have the luxury of getting lost.
“Let’s get to the dorms,” you suggested, adjusting the grip on your suitcase. “The sooner we unpack, the sooner we can—”
You stopped mid-sentence. A crowd of students around the library parted like a tide for a group coming down the stairs. They were dressed in labels that cost more than probably a year of your tuition, but one stood out.
He was still tall—infuriatingly so—with hair so pale it looked like spun silver under the New York sun. He was laughing at something a friend said, his head tilted back with an arrogance that felt like a cold splash of water to your face. Even from a distance, you recognized that posture. That thick-faced shameless tilt of the chin.
The suitcase handle suddenly felt slick in your palm.
This fucking asshole also decided to come and study here? I thought he said he'd stay and study back in Japan!
No. Just no. New York was supposed to be a fresh start. A new environment. But there he was, leaning against a stone railing as if he owned the entire university: Satoru Gojo.
The last time you had seen him, he had been the reason for one of the worst nights of your high school year—a night he clearly hadn't lost a wink of sleep over! And now, judging by the way he was currently staring directly at Himari with a curious smirk, he was about to become the reason for a very miserable few years.
“You know, we should probably take a different route. Haha,” you let out a dry, forced laugh, your fingers locking around Himari’s arm. You didn't wait for her to agree. You just hauled her in the opposite direction, your heart hammering against your ribs until you finally reached the dorms.
Once the door clicked shut, Himari turned to you, expression a mix of bewilderment and concern. “What was that? Don't you want to at least socialize a little?” she asked, gesturing vaguely toward the window.
You winced, the image of that silver hair still burned into your memory. You shook your head, moving to drop your bags with a heavy thud. “Nah. I’d rather rest. We’ll settle in when classes start.”
Himari let out a small huff, though she didn’t push further, already starting to unzip her designer suitcases. You watched her for a moment, the guilt gnawing at the back of your throat. The thing was, during high school, you and Himari had attended different institutions. While she was thriving in her social circles and helping her family's business rise, you studied at a different prep school with a scholarship that your parents encouraged you to take—one where Satoru Gojo was the undisputed first placer.
Himari didn't know about the nights you spent crying over a 98% because he had somehow pulled a 100%. She didn't know about the way he’d smirk at you in the hallways during inter-school mock exams, or how he’d purposely lean over your desk just to ask if a question was too hard for you.
It was also why you didn't want to study in Japan any longer. You knew seeing that prick again was gonna make you snap.
“You know what? I think you're just nervous,” Himari said softly, misinterpreting your silence as she draped a silk robe over her bed. “New York is big, but I'm here, remember? You don't have to worry. We're the dream team! We'll become one of the richest women in the city.”
“Yeah,” you forced a smile, sitting on your own bed. The mattress was starting to feel thinner... “The dream team.”
You stared at your hands. You had a full scholarship to maintain, a brother at Harvard to live up to, and a future to build from scratch. You couldn't afford a distraction.
If you kept your head down, maybe he wouldn't notice you. Or he probably didn't even remember you existed.
Was it childish or petty to be this hung up over a former academic rival back in high school?
It felt like an exaggeration. But you hated it. He literally thought of you as a damn pet!