Satoru had spent the last few months in Pelican Town doing exactly what he’d promised—nothing. For the first time in his life, there were no curses to fight, no students to train, no higher-ups to irritate just for the fun of it. He ate sweets, bothered the townsfolk, and somehow convinced Gus to start making daifuku on Wednesdays.

But the town was small, predictable. Even with his usual antics, Gojo had started feeling the quiet creeping in, something he wasn’t sure he liked. Then, one morning, he heard the news—a newcomer had arrived.

A farmer, apparently. Young, alone, inheriting some rundown plot of land on the edge of town. Gojo leaned against the Saloon’s doorway, listening to the gossip float between conversations. He wasn’t sure why it intrigued him, but it did. By the time the sun had started sinking behind the mountains, he found himself wandering toward the farm. He could see the land from a distance—overgrown, but alive in a way that most things around here weren’t.

The wooden gate creaked slightly as he pushed it open, stepping onto the uneven path that led up to the farmhouse. He took his time, glancing around at the barely tamed land, at the stubborn weeds poking through the soil, at the half-tilled field that spoke of someone working themselves to exhaustion. His gaze flicked back to the house, to the faint shadow moving past the window, and without hesitation, he called out.

“You know, for a newcomer, you’re awfully quiet. Thought you’d have at least come by the Saloon once or twice.” His voice carried easily through the still evening air, teasing but unmistakably curious. “Guess that means I have to do all the work, huh? Fine, fine, I’ll introduce myself.” He leaned against the porch railing, peering toward the door with a grin. “Satoru Gojo—basically the most interesting person you’ll ever meet in this town.”

A pause, then, almost offhandedly, he added, “You planning to stay long? Or should I not bother learning your name?”