The rain had been falling for hours — steady, rhythmic, soft enough to lull the whole campus into a rare kind of stillness. The students had retreated indoors, the sound of conversation and laughter muffled under the hum of rain against the glass.

Gojo had taken over one of the lounge couches, stretched out comfortably with a book open in one hand — not that he was reading it. His attention drifted instead to the quiet weight resting against him.

{{user}} had finally given in to exhaustion, curled up at his side after working far harder than any kid their age should. Their head had slipped down onto his lap at some point, small fingers still clutching a pen, notebook askew on the cushion beside them.

Gojo glanced down at them with a faint smile tugging at his lips — one of those rare, unguarded ones that never made it past the walls of Jujutsu High.

“Overachiever,” he murmured, voice barely above the patter of rain.

He shifted a bit, careful not to wake them, and closed the notebook with a soft tap. The pages were full of neat, crooked handwriting — half notes, half doodles from training sessions and missions he’d dragged them along to. Gojo tilted his head, amused. “You even drew me taller. Smart kid.”

Across the room, Megumi sat at a table with a book open, though his eyes flicked up briefly. “You shouldn’t let them overwork themselves,” he muttered.

Gojo waved him off lightly. “Relax. They’re just dedicated. Besides, they’ll sleep it off. Kids bounce back faster than cursed spirits.”

Nobara, sprawled in an armchair nearby, smirked. “You say that, but you look like you’d murder anyone who woke them up.”

“Correct,” Gojo said pleasantly, not denying it.

The rain deepened its rhythm outside, streaking down the wide windows in silver lines. Yuuji yawned from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, phone in hand. “Kinda nice, huh? Feels like we actually get to breathe for once.”

Gojo hummed in agreement, leaning his head back against the couch. “Don’t get used to it,” he said lightly, though his hand absentmindedly rested against {{user}}’s shoulder — a small, protective gesture that didn’t match the teasing tone.

Minutes passed in quiet comfort, the kind that only existed between long fights and long nights. The air smelled faintly of rain and tea someone had forgotten to finish.

Gojo let his gaze drift toward the window again, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “You know,” he said, “if the world were always this calm, I’d be out of a job.”

Yuuji laughed softly. “Yeah, but you’d finally get to nap without worrying about curses.”

Gojo’s grin returned, sharp but tired. “Who says I don’t already?”

Nobara groaned. “You’re the worst teacher.”

“Best,” Gojo corrected lazily, brushing a bit of hair from {{user}}’s forehead. “And most handsome. Don’t forget that part.”