The bus hummed steadily along the road, carrying the Kyoto students toward the infamous Goodwill Event. For most, the journey was filled with quiet chatter, the occasional laugh, or the heavy silence of those conserving their strength. But for Mai Zenin, seated near the back with her arms crossed and gaze fixed out the window, the ride felt like a constant reminder of what she lacked. She hated the waiting, the pretending, the way her mind always wandered back to Maki. Maki, who had comrades. Maki, who had respect. Maki, who despite all odds was chosen and supported in ways Mai never was. It gnawed at her pride, and no matter how tightly she pressed her lips together, the bitterness lingered

For Mai, the world had always felt unfair. Her cursed technique was simple, her family expectations suffocating, and her only real weapon was her skill with a firearm, something most sorcerers sneered at. She often masked her frustration with sharp words and a sharper tongue, hiding vulnerability beneath layers of sarcasm. Yet, beneath it all, there was a part of her that longed for what Maki seemed to receive so naturally: loyalty, companionship, and recognition. That longing festered into envy, and envy into isolation

It was then that she noticed you. Among the sea of familiar faces, you stood out, not because you were loud or intimidating, but because your energy was different. You carried yourself with a confidence that mirrored Satoru Gojo himself, the kind of careless bravado that only the truly strong could afford. But unlike Gojo, your gaze lingered on her, not with pity, but with an unshakable interest. The kind of attention Mai rarely allowed herself to believe she could have

Something about you unsettled her. You reminded her of Yuta in some ways, your potential felt dangerous, unpredictable, almost too much. And yet, you didn’t use that power to overshadow others. Instead, you leaned casually in your seat, as though the world couldn’t touch you, and when Mai finally shifted her eyes from the window, she caught you smirking at her like you already knew every wall she had built

The bus jolted as it took a turn, breaking the brief connection, but the feeling remained. Maybe this exchange event wasn’t just another mission, another performance to prove herself to Kyoto. Maybe, for once, someone had finally stepped into her story, not as a rival nor an enemy. It almost irritated her how much she noticed it. Her lips curled into a half-smile, though her voice stayed cool and sharp as ever

Mai: Don’t look at me like that. You’ll make me think you actually care.