Chapter Text
There you were, sitting in the middle of the classroom, the lecture hall arranged to resemble a real courtroom. You buried your eyes into your casebook, pretending to look productive, but you couldn’t focus.
The overhead lights stuttered, and flooded the room with harsh white light with a tinge of a blue hint.
For such a prestigious university it has really shitty lights.
You attended the University of Tokyo. Their law program was notoriously difficult to get into, to attend you had to write 2 entrance exams and rank in the top 2% to even be considered, luckily and unsurprisingly you ranked in the top 0.1% of applicants, ensuring your acceptance.
Students began filling the room, settling into the gallery seats. Some you recognized from other classes, others were just there to watch. It didn’t matter. All eyes felt like they were on you.
Your leg shook beneath your desk, tiny taps of fear betraying the calm confidence you projected in your upper half. You straightened your posture to exude the illusion of insouciance, like the outcome of this ‘trial’ didn't matter, like you'd be happy for the experience.
In reality you couldn't give two shits about the ‘experience’. Everyone always told you that it's about the journey not the destination, but to you, that’s always sounded like a soft excuse.
A prettier way to dress up losing.
Across from you, at the opposing counsel’s table, sat a tall, lean man with moderately messy dark hair with the first few strands hanging on his face. His eyes looked tired, like they were constantly being weighed down by stress, yet they never stopped working, watching. His face was angular, with a prominent hooked nose, dressed in a black slightly disheveled suit, with a tie that resembled the green of an overgrown rainforest.
He flipped through what looked like the casefile on a black clipboard, in his off hand rested a coffee in a red cup with a brown cap.
Your gaze follows him closely, picking apart every movement, every blink, every sip he takes from his coffee, searching for even the slightest hint of doubt or nervousness.
But he looked placid, a stark contrast to your anxiety. How is he so calm, you thought. You envied his nonchalance but it wasn't enough to scare you off. You'd beaten thousands of men like him before—what makes him so different?
He turns towards you, noticing the straightening of your posture due to your new found confidence.
His gaze locked on to you before you realized you were staring, an unreadable expression was plastered onto his face, what is he thinking about right now?
Reading people came to you easy, you could tell when someone was nervous or excited to tell you something and you always acted accordingly to make them feel more comfortable with you, but him,
His expression eluded you.
At the front of the room, Professor Yaga sat elevated behind a desk, acting as presiding judge. A matching black clipboard rested in front of him.
“Counsel,” he said evenly, “you may proceed with your opening statement.”
You rose, smoothing your black blazer, more out of habit than necessity. The chair scraped softly on the grey—beige carpet as you nudged it back, stepping forward to stand in front of the desk.
“Your Honor, members of the jury, my name is Y/N L/N, and I represent the prosecution in this case. The accused, Jogo, stands before you today for the deliberate destruction of a significant portion of the Meiji Jingu forest,”
You take a deep breath before continuing, making eye contact with each of the ‘fake’ jury members, it was a subtle action to subconsciously make them trust you.
“This was not a momentary lapse in judgment. It was a calculated act—one that resulted in irreversible damage to a site of cultural and environmental importance. Over the course of this trial, the prosecution will show that the accused had both the means and the intent to carry out this act. And by the end, I am confident you will find him guilty…”
You pace around the floor drifting closer and closer to the jury, speaking in a more casual tone of voice and smiling, that was never seen in courtrooms.
This act was intentional. You knew the jury—no people didn't just decide based on logic, they decided based on who they trust, who looked more amicable. And if it meant winning you would be the sweetest most trust worthy fucking person they’d ever meet.
Each sentence slots into place like it’s been rehearsed a hundred times over, evidence pulled from muscle memory, drilled into you through endless hours of preparation.
You didn't have to think, Your body already knew what to say.
Losing wasn't an option.
The recommendation letter was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Your professor, Mr. Yaga, was a decorated lawyer, the kind people built careers around. His endorsement would guarantee you a job wherever you wanted.
And for every year he offered just one recommendation letter.
Everyone knew who deserved it the most.
Hiromi Higuruma.
He went unrivaled. The boy genius of the program is always a step ahead, he far outperformed everyone in your class with little to no effort.
Well, mostly everyone.
You were the sole exception. The only one who could compete at his level.
And that pissed you off.
Winning was all you knew and you beat Higuruma so many god damn times. So why was it that everyone thought he was better, smarter, more deserving than you.
He leaned forward, covering his mouth and nose with his calloused hands, watching your every move. You ignored his eyes as you continued talking.
You concluded your opening statement and returned to your seat. It was picture perfect, still your palms filled with sweat, the illusion of confidence still plastered on your face but your mind raced. You began overthinking your every word, every action. And began planning your next argument, and your witness Ijichi—
No.
No, no—
Fuck.
You inhale sharply. Your hand comes up before you can stop it, smacking lightly against your forehead. The sound barely audible still caught the attention of the few people around you, including Higuruma, some heads turn towards your direction. You pay them no mind as you silently curse yourself.
You forgot about the witness you were to call, Kiyotaka Ijichi was a fairly reputable man, he's a man not prone to exaggeration or error, known for his meticulousness and strict adherence to protocol, his work is regarded as both precise and reliable.
Basically a middle aged man who worked behind a desk. But hours of convincing yourself this guy was the saviour of your case you subconsciously started glazing him.
He was perfect, believable and trust worthy. The epitome of an ideal witness.
And exactly why your stomach drops.
Because you didn’t background check him.
Fuck, seemingly ‘normal’ guys are always fucking evil, you cursed.
“Counsel for the defense,” Professor Yaga prompted.
Higuruma stood.
The movement snaps you out of your spiral.
Your leg bounced rapidly under the table while you fidgeted with your hands under the table, attempting to crack your knuckles with an unreasonable amount of force.
It was a rookie mistake not to background check ijichi, should he have an unclean record your entire argument would fall apart, the rest of your evidence was circumstantial at best, and with it the recommendation letter would fall out of your grasp..
Every sleepless night would have been useless.
You force a smile noticing the pairs of eyes on you. You clenched your fists tightly on top of your thighs. It tasted bitter, the thought of losing because of a mistake so juvenile.
“Your Honor, members of the jury, my name is Hiromi Higuruma, representing the defendant in this case…” Higuruma spoke with minimal hand gestures, the occasional lift of his arm was the most movement he'd exhibit.
His introduction was the same as yours, still it felt like his was better. Doubt crept up your neck slowly prickling you and then stabbing you in the neck. Why is he better, he's just stating his name. The thought was shameful, one you didn't want to admit having, cause that would mean you subconsciously think he's better.
Thick saliva fills your mouth, and you swallow hard, it's just a distorted thought, warped by nerves and nothing else.
“My client, Jogo, is accused of burning a small section of the great Meiji Jingu forest…”
Your eyes narrow slightly as you cross your arms. Small. The word sticks with you, he’s minimizing the crime.
Not enough for the jury to consciously register, but enough to make it seem like the crime wasn't that bad.
You bit your lip, however many sleepless nights you spent on this, Higuruma was outclassing you, and the cross examination hadn't even started.
Higuruma sits down, sipping his coffee while adjusting his tie.
“Prosecution, you may call your first witness.” Yaga at the front writes something down, what's he writing? Is it about me or Higuruma? Your curiosity distracts you briefly.
“Prosecution?” Yaga repeats. You shake your head noticing the sudden quiet and realize it's your turn to talk,
Ijichi.
You don’t know if he’s a credible witness.
But he’s all you have.
Time doesn't wait for you to catch up,
You had to make a decision.
You inhale, taking a deep practiced breath before speaking. “The prosecution calls Kiyotaka Ijichi to the stand.”
Ijichi or atleast the actor yaga got stood up slowly, there was a slight downturn of his head and his posture was rounded. He stepped on the stand and adjusted his glasses frantically tapping his finger on the table.
He's nervous, or what if he's just acting, still he probably didn't expect this many people.
You walk towards him, placing your hand on his, and give him a sweet smile, “take your time, remember you're just here to describe what happened, nothing more.” the boy visibly relaxed, he was probably near your age, maybe a little younger.
You refocus and stare back at the boy, still avoiding eye contact. Maybe he actually was stressed. You thought
You could feel Higuruma eyes glued to the back of your head, you turned around to catch his gaze and you were met with the slight indication of a smile.
What felt like an electric shock shot up your body instantly stiffened your posture. As you broke eye contact you could feel yourself lose composure.
Calm down
You recalibrated yourself, remembering who and where you were. A simple smile was not enough to throw you off balance.
“Please state your name and your role within the Jujutsu administrative system.” your voice comes out confident and strong.
The questioning remains tense. You ask him to explain what he observed and the sequence of events, all open-ended, and deliberate questions designed to make ijichi and your case look better.
You didn't lead or steer him toward any conclusions.
You wanted the jury to see how he answers on his own: his competency, his honesty, and his consistency.
You can feel it happening slowly. The room shifting, for the first time since the trial started it felt like you were winning. respectively, your heartbeat eases slightly.
Across the room, Higuruma finally looked up from his notes.
His eyes linger on you for half a second longer than before.
Like he’d finally decided you were worth paying attention to.
You guided ijichi back to his seat and reviewed the rest of your evidence with the courtroom—the same fuel that was used to burn the forest was found at Jogo’s house, it was damning evidence but still, not enough to convict without Ijichi’s testimony.
Yaga writes steadily as you move through the evidence.
“It is a fact that Jogo was present at the great Meiji Jingu forest on the day of the incident. His DNA was recovered at the scene, and traces of the same accelerant used in the fire were later found at his residence.”
As you speak, you shift your stance, no longer anchored to the desk, but moving lightly across the space. Closer to the jury.
Your tone softens slightly—still professional, but more understandable. “You don’t need specialist knowledge to understand what this means,” you continue, smiling at the jury, eyes briefly scanning the room looking for one face. “You only need to follow the sequence of events.” You let the pause sit, just long enough for it to settle.
Then your gaze shifts. A small smile tugs at your mouth as it lands on Higuruma. It was almost invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for it.
You sit down, happy enough with your performance, still if Higuruma brings up something about ijichi you've lost this case. The anxiety thumps in your chest and your confidence dies out. Still, ijichi was a fairly normal guy on paper, and no way Yaga would make it so ijichi turns out being non credible, there's no way Yaga would do that, right…?
Higuruma doesn’t move immediately after your last statement. He lets it sit, the jury’s attention, the slight confidence still hanging in the air.
Then he stands. He should be nervous, you thought.
“I have a few questions regarding the prosecution’s interpretation of the evidence,” he says calmly. His voice changes the entire vibe of the courtroom.
He steps forward, toward the space between you and the jury.
“As I understand it,” he begins, “the prosecution’s argument relies on three core elements.” he puts up three fingers, emphasizing his words, then puts them down while pausing before continuing.
“One: the presence of the accused at the scene.” He has one finger up.
“Two: the discovery of trace materials at his residence.” Two fingers up.
“Three: the sequence of events as interpreted through witness testimony.” Three fingers up.
“Would you agree with that summary?”
It sounds fairly polite, like a genuine question.
But it isn’t.
It's a trap.
And you just stepped into it. You nod once. IIt was the safest answer in your mind.
Higuruma exhales softly. “Good.”
That scares you, he knows, there's no way he doesn't know about ijichi, he's about to humiliate me.
“Then let’s examine the third point.” his attention now directed to the jury he fixes his eyes onto the wall behind the jurors, “Because it seems to assume something interesting.”
Your fingers tighten slightly at your side. Not enough for anyone to notice.
You resist the urge to plug your ears, you didn't want to lose because of such a rookie mistake
“You presented the sequence of events as though it naturally leads to a single conclusion,” he continues. “But I would like to clarify something.” He looks back at you now. His tired eyes lock into yours as he focuses in. It felt like he could see every flaw you were hiding, from your argument to your physical appearance. You want to curl up into a ball, but you keep your composure, smiling and nodding along with whatever he says. You need to make it seem like you were in control.
“Has the prosecution established the origin point of the fire?” He turns to the jury and lifts his arm.
fuck.
The silence hangs heavy, there were around 300 people and for the first time since the fake trial started every side conversation fell quiet.
A few jurors shift. While others turn towards each other.
You don’t answer immediately. You started to process just what Higuruma said to you.
Because the question doesn’t land like a ‘question’.
It lands like a fact.
Higuruma continues anyway. “You’ve demonstrated that Jogo was present. That materials were found. ijichi’s testimony describes the aftermath.”
He pauses, leaving room for you to be swallowed by the silence
“But presence does not equate to guilt, as 100s of people were at Meiji Jingu forest that day. Any person could have lit the fire and left, tell me did ijichi see where the fire started? Or did he just see the fire spread?” The room feels smaller, suffocating you.
No—no this can't be happening.
“You’ve built a coherent narrative,” he says, almost gently walking over to your direction.
Was this asshole praising—no mocking me?
“But you deliberately left out the part about where the fire started.” He adjusts his tie with two fingers, slow enough that it feels deliberate rather than habitual, like he’s giving himself a second to think before he allows himself to talk again..
“Because if the origin point of the fire has not been independently established…”
He looks at the jury now.
“…then every conclusion drawn from it becomes interpretive.” he pauses then continues “And interpretation,” he finishes quietly, “is not proof.”
The room falls silent again, but it's different this time. Higuruma didn't disprove anything you said, didn't attack anything directly—yet he destroyed your entire argument because of a variable you failed to even think about.
Higuruma’s eyes return to you for the briefest moment. And what pissed you off the most was that there wasn't a trace of triumph, of satisfaction, there was nothing.
—
The rest of the trial fell suite, you couldn't recover after Higuruma debased your entire argument.
You had spent hours preparing for this stupid fucking trial, reading cases, memorizing arguments, practicing every possible rebuttal in your head until you could barely think about anything else. And him? He looked like he just woke up from a nap and just decided to embarrass you.
A murmur ran through the room, everyone was witness to your humiliation. Eyes flicked between the two of you. You swallowed, jaw tight. Your preparation, your brilliance, your hours of work… undone in one single stupid fucking mock trial.
He didn’t gloat. He didn’t need to. The confidence, the fucking confidence. This trial was just another Tuesday for him. He walked into the room like the verdict had already been written in his favor, like the possibility of losing simply didn’t exist in his world.
he wasn’t even smug about it. No smirk. No snarky little remark. No look that said haha you lost.
Just that infuriating fucking calm.
You stared at him. Something burned behind your eyes, it was sharp—dangerous. The feeling lingered, sinking deep into your skin, refusing to leave.
Your hand curled slowly at your side, nails pressing into your palm hard enough to sting and leave five C shaped marks.
He looked in your direction and met your eyes.
Your jaw tightened, teeth set so firmly it almost hurt, but you didn’t look away.
This is fucking bullshit.
He noticed you, and for the first time he saw you,
A faint, barely noticeable lift in the corner of his mouth caught your attention.
He broke eye contact, shaking hands with Mr. Yaga.
The recommendation letter announcement came one week later. You didn’t get it. Hiromi Higuruma did.
It was the first time you'd ever lost.
Your legs were stretched over the light beige couch, your body sinking into the cushions, your posture rivaling that of the letter C, cookie dough ice cream with far too little cookie dough chunks in one hand, Subway Surfers in the other, and family guy playing on the 60 inch tv. Your outfit consisted of a gray hoodie you stole from your friend Haibara and tiny navy blue shorts.
“Do you want me to lie or tell you the truth?”
You turned toward the voice, already knowing exactly who it was. Shoko, your best friend and roommate, stood by the dark wood door, throwing her brown handbag across the room not caring where it should fall.
Shoko had a habit of saying exactly what she thought with no filter. Her critiques came often uninvited, usually disguised as jokes, but they were always honest, and more often than not, she was right.
“What does that mean?” you muttered, eyes returning to the game. Pushing your knuckles on the desk, forcing them to crack.
“It means you look… unemployed-Discord-mod-ish,” she said, smirking, clearly delighted. “Like, you probably collect those—what are they called? Anime figures? Those overpriced toys.” She took out the unlit cigarette out her mouth and took off her brown loafer shoes, one at a time.
You straightened a little, placing your phone on the couch, not noticing it fall in between the cushions, ready to defend yourself. “Thats it buster, I do collect anime figures but—”
“Yeah, I can tell,” she cut in, laughing as she walked towards you, sitting on the couch facing you. “Alright, fine. But seriously, why are you so down? Did you break up with a secret boyfriend you’ve been hiding from me?” She grabbed the ice cream out of your hand and fished out all the cookie dough chunks. Smiling and narrowing her eyes at you.
“No, nothing like that…” You let your gaze drop to the floor, tapping your knee absentmindedly.
“You know that mock trial I told you about, the one that decides who gets Yaga's recommendation letter?”
“Oh, right, Yaga—he's the one that looks like the Weeknd right?” Shoko said, placing the ice cream on the couch, then stretching her arm above her head.
“What? well, I guess so yeah. Anyway… I went up against this guy. And…” Your words caught in your throat. “…he annihilated me. He made one point and it dismantled my entire argument. It was a public humiliation if I'm going to be honest” your hands fidgeted, admitting he destroyed you was far harder than you thought.
Shoko froze mid-stretch, ice cream halfway to her mouth. “Really?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone made you look stupid? Other than me, I didn’t think anyone else was capable.”
“Yeah,” you muttered, fidgeting with your sleeve now. “It was a surprise to me too....”
“Wow,” Shoko said, tilting her head. “Ive never seen you so nervous before, was it that bad?” her voice came out softer that time.
“You don’t even—” You cut yourself off, grabbing the ice cream from Shoko. “I mean, he made me feel like every hour I spent preparing was just… useless.” the sequence of events replayed in your head like a mini movie, just thinking about it made you livid.
Shoko gently pulled your head into her lap, noticing your sudden indignation, fingers threading through your hair. “Damn… yeah, that’s rough.” She paused, humming under her breath as she worked through a knot. “But it’s not the end of the world. And besides, you’re gonna have to learn how to lose if you wanna be a lawyer.”
“Not the end of the world?” you scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. “This was my shot! Yaga’s recommendation letter was my chance to actually build my future. And he…just walks in like he invented fucking debating itself.” you stare at the popcorn ceiling visibly annoyed.
Shoko taps a finger against your temple. “Okay okay, a genius beat you, so what? You're still the smartest person I know,”
A quiet warmth settled in your chest, as you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.
“I guess, I do need to learn how to fail, but he needs to too—god I swear the arrogance was just dripping off this guy.” you grabbed Shoko’s hand and cracked each knuckle, it was a bad habit you picked up from Gojo, but it's gotten to the point you'll grab any and everyone's hand to crack it.
“Just um, checking” Shoko laughs before asking “Was he hot?”
“Shoko, why on EARTH would that be relevant right now?” You flicked her palm lightly, closing your eyes for a second.
“Kissy, baby…I’ve seen you handle worse, way worse, without spiraling like this." Shoko's head aligns straight again as a small laugh passes through her lips. “It just seems like you want to talk about him.”
I cannot believe this girl.
You opened one eye slowly. “You think the only reason I'm talking about this is because I think he's cute?”
“I’m saying it would explain the intensity,” she said with a shrug, scooping another chunk of cookie dough out of the ice cream in your hands. “Because I know you, you've bounced back from things worse than this, like literally the other week you spilt hot spaghetti over your brand new white sweater and you were mad for, what, two seconds?”
She glances at you, unimpressed. “I mean, I was more torn up about it than you were, it was like the only thing you've purchased that i actually like.” Shoko’s mouth twitches, and a smile breaks through, allowing a low chuckle to spill through the walls of her lips.
You sat up immediately, turning towards her, your palms and knees digging into the couch. “Oh shut up, I buy cute clothes, asshole.” you allow a laugh to escape past you, then you continue, “Yeah, but that’s because the only thing I ‘lost’ in that situation was a sweater.” You let out a sharp breath, tilting your head down. “Koko, a recommendation letter from Professor Yaga would’ve guaranteed me a spot at whatever firm I wanted.”
You grip the couch cushion tightly. “…It would’ve secured me a place at Klassen’s firm” the words come out quiet and breathy.
Shoko runs a hand through her dark brown hair, “whose he? should i know who he is? ”
You don't even know…
You huff softly, leaning back. “Only the best defense lawyer in all of tokyo, no-actually the entire fucking country.”
She tilted her head, playing with you cheeks while she asks “So anyways, we got off track, is the guy hot?”
You roll your eyes before locking with hers again “Shut up you idiot.” you slap her arm lightly
“What? You didn’t answer the question.” Shoko rests her cheek against the back cushion, watching you through half-lidded eyes.
You lean back a little, arms folding loosely. “Because it’s irrelevant.”
“Sure,” she says easily, grabbing a sunflower shaped cushion you bought from a small bookstore and hugging it, “but just so I know, describe him to me.”
You groaned, running a hand through your hair tilting your head then saying. “He’s not even—he’s just—he looks arrogant, does that help?.” you say with uncertainty, twitching your nose while raising your hands deliberately avoiding eye contact.
Shoko blinked. “Cant say it does,” her tongue pressed against their cheek, holding in a comment.” Every guy looks arrogant."
“Fuck, you’re right.” You drag a hand down your face, half-laughing,
“What’s his name again? I’ll find him.” She leans forward, already reaching for her phone, eyes lighting up with interest.
“I’m going to throw this spoon at you, you will do no such finding.” You point the utensil at her, narrowing your eyes in warning.
“Can you stop being stubborn and answer? We don’t have all day.” She waves you off, impatience creeping into her tone as her fingers hover, ready to type.
You don’t hesitate, you flick your wrist and send the spoon flying.
“Fine. His name is Hiromi Higuruma.”
She laughs, tilting her head as she dodges it easily, the spoon clattering somewhere behind her.
“Great. Let me find his Instagram.” thumbs moving quickly across the cracked screen.
Why did I tell her?
Shoko barely looks up, attention locked in as she types, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “Let’s see… Hiromi Higuruma,” she mutters, squinting at the screen.
You lean back into the couch, arms crossed. “You’re not going to find anything. He doesn’t seem like the type.”
“Mm,” she hums, scrolling. “That’s what they all look like before I find something.”
She goes through the university’s instagram followers.
Her expression shifts, just slightly. “…Oh.”
You narrow your eyes. “What?”
Shoko tilts her phone away from you, lips twitching. “You’re so unbelievably screwed.”
You sit up instantly. “Give me that.”
“Relax,” she says, holding it just out of reach. “And you chose arrogant to describe this man?”
“What does that even mean?”
She finally turns the screen toward you. “It means he's hot.”
You stare at the screen for half a second too long.
His profile picture was a candid shot of him, someone must’ve taken on a bus, catching him gazing off into the city, completely unaware.
His bio was minimal: University of Tokyo, 3L.
He had just three posts.
One of his cat, a black one with fold ears, it's actually really cute, you thought.
One of him, It’s not a selfie. Someone else took it. He’s standing outside what looks like a courthouse, sleeves rolled up slightly, tie loosened just enough to look like he’s been working. His posture is straight, expression calm, eyes focused on something out of frame.
And one of a cityscape, taken at night.
Before shoving it away, you mutter under your breath, “His cat is cute.”
Shoko grins, completely unbothered. “Are you sure that’s the only thing that’s cute?” She lets out a boisterous laugh, wiping a stray tear from her eye, then fixes her gaze on you again. Your unimpressed expression only makes her laugh harder.
“Are you done?”
“I’m sorry, I forget how funny I am sometimes,” she says, brushing her hair out of her face. Then, more seriously, well, as serious as Shoko gets she adds, “Alright, we’ve got to get ready. We’re going out.”
"im sorry, we? who is we in this scenario?"
"us obviously, now quick get ready."
Before you could protest, Shoko disappeared down the hallway.
You looked back toward the abandoned phone sitting between the couch cushions.
Hiromi Higuruma’s profile was still open.