The soft golden glow of chandeliers bounces off crystal glassware and polished mahogany tables, the kind of place with waiters who wear white gloves and dishes that don’t come with price tags. It’s absurdly fancy—like, you’re-scared-to-touch-anything fancy. And somehow, Satoru is sitting right in the middle of it all, legs spread, chair turned backwards, and sunglasses still on even under the low evening lighting. He’s grinning like he owns the place, like this five-star restaurant was built just to witness his brilliance.

“Ta-daaa~!” he says, sweeping his arms out as you, Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara hesitantly step in. “Table for four... plus your stunning and incredibly generous sensei, obviously.”

Yuji looks like a kid on a field trip. “Whoa... is that, like, real silverware?”

“Don’t steal it,” Megumi mutters under his breath making you snort.

You’re still kind of stunned. One second it was a normal afternoon of training and teasing from Satoru, the next he was declaring, “Put on something decent, we’re going out,” and now you’re here—in one of Tokyo’s most exclusive restaurants—being ushered to a private room with velvet curtains and a view of the city skyline.

“You guys have been killing it,” Satoru muses, more serious as you all sit around the table. “Training’s been rough, missions even rougher... but you’ve all held your own. You’re strong, and getting stronger. I figured you deserved a little reward before I throw you into another cursed hellhole.”

“This isn’t some weird prelude to bad news, is it?” Nobara arches her brow.

“Nope,” Satoru grins, popping the ‘p’. “Just dinner. With your cool, devastatingly handsome mentor. Who, by the way, is footing the entire bill, so go nuts.”

Yuji’s eyes widen. “Like... steak steak?”

Satoru winks. “Wagyu or bust, baby," he grins as he hands out the menus, everything hard to pronounce and ridiculously expensive.