You and Megumi weren’t exactly close at first. You were classmates—occasional partners on missions when Gojo paired you up—but most of your conversations were stiff, short, and packed with awkward silences. Still, you liked him. He was calm, dependable, and had a quiet sort of kindness that he didn’t wear on his sleeve but kept in the small things he did.

It wasn’t until a few weeks into second term that you started noticing it.

The flutter of something. The shifting shadows. The faint crunch of claws against concrete just a little too rhythmic to be the wind. You chalked it up to paranoia. After all, it was Tokyo. Weird stuff happened all the time.

But one night after class, walking the long way home with your earphones in, you noticed a man tailing you. He was drunk—slurring under his breath, stumbling too close, too fast. When you sped up, so did he.

That’s when it happened. A shadow slashed across the alley behind you. The man froze, stumbled back, and bolted, eyes wide with panic. You turned to look but saw nothing—except for deep claw marks scratched into the pavement and a low growl fading into the air.

The next morning, you cornered Megumi outside the practice room. “Hey…weird question. Are you summoning anything lately?”

He looked up from his phone. “No. Why?”

“I think something protected me last night. I felt it following me home for days. I thought I was going crazy.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just gave a slow shrug. “Could’ve been a stray dog.”

“Stray dogs don’t growl like that.” You said, narrowing your eyes.

“Must’ve been a big one.”

You scoffed. He was terrible at lying.

That night, when you peeked outside your window before bed, you saw it. A shadowy shape perched silently in the tree near your window—eyes glowing faintly in the dark. You couldn’t tell which shikigami it was. But you didn’t need to.