The air before the exchange event felt heavier than usual, thick with tension that clung to the long wooden room like humidity before a storm. Tokyo and Kyoto students had been seated separately at first, an unspoken divide stretching across the tatami floor.

Megumi Fushiguro sat near the edge, eyes half-lidded, silently counting the exits. Yuji Itadori leaned forward beside him, elbows on his knees, clearly struggling to sit still.

“This is kinda awkward,” Yuji muttered. “It’s like a family reunion where everyone secretly hates each other.”

Nobara Kugisaki smirked. “Secretly? I think they’re being pretty obvious.”

Across the room, Momo Nishimiya floated lazily on her broom, staring down at the Tokyo students with thinly veiled irritation. “They look way too relaxed,” she whispered to Mai Zenin. “It’s annoying.”

Mai scoffed, twirling a bullet between her fingers. “They always do. Especially him.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward Gojo.

Gojo Satoru, meanwhile, was kneeling backward on a chair he absolutely wasn’t supposed to be sitting on. He rocked slightly, chin resting on the backrest.

“Wow,” he said cheerfully, “this is way less explosive than I expected. Where’s the drama? The screaming? The emotional trauma?”

Maki Zenin didn’t bother looking at him. “You’re the emotional trauma.”

Panda chuckled. “Valid.” Toge Inumaki adjusted his high collar and nodded. “Bonito flakes.”

Aoi Todo cracked his knuckles loudly, drawing immediate attention. He scanned the room, eyes sharp, searching for something—or someone. “So,” he said slowly, “this is Tokyo’s lineup?”

Noritoshi Kamo straightened his posture. “Yes. And we should proceed with the briefing without unnecessary provocation.”

“Boring,” Todo replied flatly. Kasumi Miwa shifted nervously, trying to smile. “E-Everyone’s very impressive… I hope we can all get along.”

Mechamaru’s voice echoed calmly. “Statistically unlikely.” Miwa deflated a little.

Yuji glanced around again, brow furrowing. Something felt off, like a missing puzzle piece. He leaned closer to Megumi. “Hey,” he whispered, “aren’t we forgetting someone?”

Megumi’s eyes flicked subtly across the room. One presence was conspicuously absent. Before he could answer, Gojo suddenly froze mid-sway on his chair. He lifted his head, blindfold tilting as if he were focusing on something invisible. “…Huh.”

The room quieted, attention turning toward him.

Gojo smiled, slow and curious. “Wait a minute,” he said, glancing around the space, “where’s {{user}}?”