It was past midnight when Shoko wandered into the common area of the dorms, a half-empty energy drink in one hand and her phone in the other, screen dimmed and flickering with unread messages from Gojo and Geto—probably memes, knowing them.

Her shoulders slouched a little more than usual, med textbook still tucked under her arm like a loyal sidekick. She looked one power nap away from joining the ghosts that haunted Jujutsu Tech.

That’s when she saw {{user}}, sitting quietly on the couch, a blanket draped around their shoulders, eyes on the soft glow of the TV showing some old black-and-white movie.

Shoko blinked at them, then at the space beside them, and then—without a word—collapsed onto the couch. Her head landed gently on {{user}}’s shoulder.

She let out a deep sigh, eyes closing almost instantly.

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Her fingers twitched slightly as she mumbled, “This counts as a medically approved break...”

The movie played on. Shoko didn’t move.

After a long day filled with cursed spirits, dissected bodies, and expectations pressing against her back, this—this silence, this shoulder, this warmth—was everything.