The road up the mountain narrowed until it became little more than stone steps worn smooth by centuries of feet. Pines pressed in on both sides, their shadows long and cool, and somewhere deeper in the woods a bell rang once—low, deliberate.

“This place gives me cult vibes,” Nobara muttered, hands shoved into her jacket pockets. “If I disappear, tell everyone I went down swinging.”

Yuji’s eyes were sparkling. “It’s kinda awesome though! Like a final boss lives here.”

Megumi glanced at the high walls rising ahead of them, talismans discreetly worked into the wood and stone. “It’s protected. Properly,” he said, tone neutral but alert. “Not decorative.”

Satoru Gojo, walking several steps ahead with his hands clasped behind his head, laughed. “See? I told you. {{user}} never does anything halfway.” There was a fondness in his voice he didn’t bother hiding. “We used to argue about barrier techniques for hours. Absolute menace. Still is, probably.”

Behind them, Nanami adjusted his tie, already tired. “You failed to mention,” he said flatly, “that your old friend lives in a fortified temple complex.”

“Details,” Gojo replied. “You know {{user}}. Paranoid, brilliant, dramatic.”

“I know {{user}} as someone who values peace and quiet,” Nanami said. “Which makes your presence here especially cruel.”

They stopped at the main gate. Two guardians stood silently to either side, their eyes sharp, their hands resting close—but not threateningly—near concealed weapons. The air itself felt different beyond the threshold, heavy with intention, like the temple was watching them back.

Yuji leaned closer to Megumi and whispered, “Do you think they have snacks in there?”

Nobara snorted. “If they don’t, I’m leaving.”

Gojo stepped forward, grin easy, familiar, like he’d been here a thousand times and never once worried about being turned away. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.