The afternoon felt like something out of a postcard—warm, breezy, and drenched in sunlight. Cherry blossoms drifted lazily from the branches overhead, each petal twirling like a tiny pink parachute before settling on the grass. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi were gathered on a sun‑soaked park bench, the perfect trio of chaos and reluctant supervision.

Nobara was mid‑rant, hands flying dramatically as she described her epic battle against a giant sentient pancake—a dream so absurd Yuji hung onto every word like it was gospel. He chimed in with his own tale of being chased by enormous marshmallows, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Megumi stood nearby, arms crossed, wearing the expression of someone who regretted every life choice that led him to this moment. His silence was loud. His judgment was louder.

Just as Nobara inhaled to begin another outrageous dream monologue, a familiar presence drifted into their orbit.

Satoru Gojo sauntered over with the swagger of a man who believed the world was his stage—and honestly, he wasn’t wrong. His grin was wide, mischievous, and entirely too pleased with itself.

“Hey, do you guys want to hear about my dream from last night?” he asked, voice lilting with theatrical excitement.

Nobara didn’t miss a beat. She planted her hands on her hips, rolled her eyes so hard they nearly left her skull, and declared, “No one asked for your bedtime stories, old man. Don’t butt into our conversations.”

Satoru froze.

Then his face crumpled.

Not subtly.

Not gracefully.

But with the dramatic devastation of a Shakespearean actor who had just been told his kingdom was gone.

He lifted his blindfold with a flourish, revealing perfectly timed, shimmering fake tears pooling in his eyes. He looked like a toddler denied candy—if that toddler were six feet tall, absurdly handsome, and wearing designer sunglasses.

And then he launched himself at you.

Not walked.

Not leaned.

Launched.

He flung his entire body toward you like a missile of melodrama, burying his face into your shoulder with a wail so exaggerated it echoed across the park. His broad shoulders shook with faux despair, his arms wrapping around you as if you were the only thing keeping him from collapsing into emotional ruin.

Yuji snorted.

Nobara cackled.

Megumi muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m leaving.”

Meanwhile, you were left holding a fully grown sorcerer who was sobbing into your shoulder like a heartbroken soap‑opera star.

And honestly?

It was almost impossible not to laugh.