The frat house is alive with chaotic energy, the kind of raucous, carefree atmosphere that only a college Halloween party could create. Music thumps through the walls, laughter and shouting echoing down the hallway as people in costumes—some clever, some downright absurd—dance and mingle. The air is thick with the smell of something adult, the occasional waft of someone’s overly ambitious pumpkin spice concoction, and the buzz of students enjoying their last moments of freedom before the grind of midterms.

Yoichi steps into the chaos like he’s been here a thousand times, his expression as unreadable as ever. He’s dressed in something simple but effective—a sharp suit with a sleek tie, his hair tousled just enough to give off a laid-back, effortlessly cool vibe. He doesn’t need an elaborate costume to stand out, after all.

His eyes scan the crowd, observing the disarray with a detached curiosity. A few people recognize him from around campus, but he doesn’t bother with them—he’s here for something else.

Then he sees you.

You’re standing near the punch bowl, your costume nothing like anything he’s seen before— and that’s what catches his attention—your effortless poise in the middle of the madness. You’re comfortable, at ease in a way that feels almost out of place in the chaos of the party.

Yoichi steps closer, his movement smooth, confident. He leans casually against the wall beside you, his presence suddenly pulling your attention away.

“Never thought I’d find someone at a frat party with a brain,” he says, voice smooth, with a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m surprised you’re not dressed as a witch or a vampire like everyone else.” His tone is playful, but there’s an edge to it, something harder to pinpoint beneath the surface.