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You pause, looking up at him again as his gaze is still fixated on the train doors -- watching, as more people fill in to replace the ones that just left.

He shrugs, hand moving to the back of his neck as he raises an eyebrow at you. "I can just give you a bag if you want. No need to stay and get dinner if you don't wanna."

For a split second you're grateful for his offer, considering going home and gorging yourself on desserts to cope with the rough day -- no -- week you've had, but a part of yourself can't deny that chatting with him isn't... bad.

It's been awhile since you've met someone you were able to just chat with so easily, and even if it tends to be on the teasing side, it's enjoyable nonetheless. You can feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable around him, cautious walls slowly breaking down as you spend time together.

Your hand moves towards his as you wrap your fingers around his again. "It's fine. I guess I'll be a masochist for today."

A sly grin forms on his mouth, and you roll your eyes in preparation for another shitty remark.

In the end, his comment isn't as shitty as you thought it'd be, and the silence isn't as awkward as you'd expected. Though you're usually comfortable with uncomfortable silences anyways, Gojo has the uncanny ability to keep on talking, no matter the topic. And to your surprise, he doesn't talk about himself much, conveniently dodging your questions when it comes to his job or personal life. It confuses you at first -- why he doesn't want to talk about his students or colleagues -- but in the end you chalk it up to first-date blues and leave him a semblance of privacy.

"I just think that a 4 day work week would be more helpful than everybody thinks it would be. Sure, some people are bound to work outside of the designated hours, but a new mandate would still change the amount of free time people have in the end."

"Yeah, but something like that's never gonna get passed. Geezers up top care too much about economic growth to do something as insane as cut down work hours."

You point accusatory chopsticks in his direction, sashimi slice in between. "But a 4-day work week can increase productivity by up to 50%. Isn't that enough to consider within the realms of economic growth as well?"

Gojo plucks the sashimi slice out of your chopsticks with his fingers, plopping it in his mouth. His sunglasses are off now that you're both seated inside, and you try and stop yourself from staring too much at his gorgeous eyes. "Even if it does increase economic opportunity and rates of productivity, they won't go for it anyways. Old people hate the idea of sacrificing traditionalism for efficiency."

You groan, chopsticks drooping down as you hang your head. "You know, if people weren't so obsessed with tradition, I swear half of my patients would be less angry with me."

"Eh, they'll die soon anyways. Don't worry about it." He reaches for an unagi roll from one of the plates, and you snag the one he's reaching for and dunk it in soy sauce before he can get to it.

"I do have to worry about it, though. It's kind of my job." You wrinkle your nose at his offhand comment. "I don't really want to get sued for medical malpractice anytime soon."

He rests his head against his hand, elbow propped up on the table. "So you're only worried about them because it's your job?"

Your eyebrows shoot up as you quickly defend yourself. "What? Of course not. Even if it's my job, I still have some semblance of morality that wants them to stay healthy. Plus, it's not like I want people to deal with the same pain I do."

"How righteous of you."

"It's not righteousness, it's just normal human decency." You frown as you consider his words. Even though your patients could be crude and downright abusive at times, you'd still wish the best for their health moving forward. And there are still plenty of good patients too -- ones with personalities so kind and understanding that you feel like they're the ones treating you instead. Was it strange to feel this way? Maybe you're the weird one.

You defend another sushi roll from Gojo's chopsticks, blocking him once more from stealing from your plate. "Don't you feel the same way with your students? Like you want to protect them, or wish them the best even if they don't necessarily like you."

He hums, and you tilt your head as he gazes off into the distance, deep in thought. Is he really considering it, or will he just find some way to dodge the question again?

Just as you try and decipher his true intentions, he snatches the last unagi roll from the center plate. " Ish not--,"

"Hey, at least finish chewing first."

He swallows loudly before continuing. "It's not like I want to protect them, or anything. If I'm being honest, that's the exact opposite of what I want to do." He reaches for a discarded chopstick wrapper, intertwining the paper between his fingers as he answers. "Maybe it's selfish, but I want them to become stronger by themselves -- strong enough so that I won't have to help them anymore in the future. "

For a split second, you can see a blank look in his eyes as he stares at the wrapper in his hands. It's a face you've seen often -- on patients when there's a poor diagnosis, or when they're reminiscing about the past. But you blink and it's gone, already replaced with a joking grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "And after that, I can get an early retirement, and spend the rest of my days annoying the shit out of them while speedrunning Legend of Zelda."

It's an honest answer, and truth be told, more thoughtful than you expected. You set your chopsticks down, placing a hand against your chin as you look at him. "I don't think that's selfish at all, you know. You might be a better teacher than you think."

One of his eyebrows cocks up in surprise as he looks at you, and for once in your life, there's a look in his eyes that you quite can't decipher.

And then he sticks his tongue out and pretends to vomit. "Gross, there's the doctor voice again."

You let out a laugh, covering your mouth as you do so. "Ok, my bad. But seriously. Legend of Zelda?"

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