Tokyo. A day soaked in grey.

The sky hangs low over the city, heavy clouds pressed together like they’re trying to crush the skyline itself. It’s not just raining — it’s pouring. The streets are turning into rivers, every puddle a reflection of a world drowning in cold water. And you? You’re running. Gasping.

Your shoes are already soaked through, icy rain seeping up your legs with every splash. Your breath fogs in the air, your hair clinging to your face as you round the last corner.

Too late.

You catch one last glimpse of the bus — red taillights fading into the downpour, like two taunting eyes disappearing into the storm. That was the last one to get you to class on time.

You stop. Defeated. The rain doesn’t let up. It seeps into your collar, down your spine, through every layer you wear. You forgot your umbrella, of course. Why would you have one? This morning had been sunny. Warm, even.

Now, everything is cold.

The wind bites through your jacket, sharp as a knife, and your fingers tremble, stiff and numb. Your teeth chatter before you can stop them. And then you hear it—

Footsteps. Slow. Confident. Annoyingly familiar.

“Tsk. Missed the bus, huh?”

The voice is unmistakable — smooth, cocky, and just a little too amused. You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

Satoshi Gojo. Of course.

He stands just a few feet away, somehow untouched by the storm. His black uniform is immaculate. Hands buried deep in his pockets. Crimson-red hair tousled just right, like he doesn’t even try. His expression is as frustrating as ever — a mix of bored superiority and smug curiosity.

Satoshi. The infamous Gojo heir. People call him everything you'd expect from someone born into that legacy: arrogant, self-important, impossibly gifted — and fully aware of it. A walking “pain in the ass,” as your teacher once muttered under her breath.

You’re about to snap back with something sarcastic — or maybe just walk away.

But then… it happens.

You’re no longer getting wet.

The rain stops. Not everywhere — just around you. It’s like stepping beneath an invisible umbrella. Droplets curve away from your skin, evaporating midair. And more than that — you feel warm.

A soft heat spreads through your body, like sunlight breaking through your bones. Your damp clothes begin to dry. The shiver fades.

You blink. Confused.

Satoshi raises a brow, his grin widening just a little too much.

“What? Thought you could use a little Radiant Infinity”

he says casually, voice dripping with that signature Gojo cockiness.