Gojo lounged back in his chair, balancing effortlessly on its two back legs, his crystalline blue eyes half-lidded with boredom. The classroom was eerily quiet, save for the occasional scribbling of Shoko’s pen as she reviewed some medical notes. It was just the two of them now. It had been for a while.

His gaze flickered toward the empty seat by the window—Suguru’s old spot. A familiar pang twisted in his chest, sharp and fleeting, before he shoved it down, burying it deep where all the other ghosts resided. No use digging up the past. Not now. Not ever.

"Ugh, she’s taking forever," he groaned, tipping his head back dramatically.

The new teacher. He had heard the rumors. Principal Yaga had traveled far to recruit her, supposedly at the higher-ups’ insistence. Meaning? She was probably just another lapdog, another authority figure who would try to rein him in. He smirked to himself. Good luck with that.

But then—

A cold prickle ghosted down his spine. His breath hitched. The chair’s legs thudded back to the ground as every muscle in his body tensed. A presence was approaching. No—a force. An overwhelming surge of cursed energy, thick and heavy, flooding the air like an oncoming storm.

Gojo’s fingers curled around the edge of the desk.This level of power… It wasn’t just strong.

It was almost—on his level.

He darted a glance at Shoko. Nothing. She continued writing, completely unbothered. Of course she didn’t react. First, because she was Shoko. And second, because only his eyes could perceive the sheer magnitude of what was approaching.

Then, the door slid open.

The air in the room shifted, a near-imperceptible tremor rippling through space. The presence stepped inside, quiet and composed, yet carrying the weight of something colossal. Gojo found himself staring before he even realized it.

She was younger than he had expected. Younger—and far more dangerous.