The hallway lounge at Tokyo Jujutsu High is unusually crowded.

Shoko is leaning against the window ledge with a cigarette she technically isn’t supposed to have. Nanami is sitting upright at the edge of a chair, posture perfect even off duty. Haibara is mid-story about something that probably happened five minutes ago.

And in the center of it all, Suguru Geto occupies the sofa like it belongs to him.

He sits back comfortably, long legs spread slightly, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His uniform jacket is open at the collar, sleeves hiding his hands as usual. Composed. Relaxed. Entirely unbothered.

Gojo is on the floor in front of the table, arguing about sweets.

You walk in.

Gojo notices first. “Oh? The new team member.”

Nanami glances up politely. Shoko exhales smoke and smirks.

Geto’s eyes lift last.

He doesn’t move.

He watches.

You take in the room in one sweep, then walk straight toward the sofa.

There is space on the other end.

You do not take it.

Instead, you sit right next to Geto. Close enough that your thigh brushes his.

The conversation around the room stutters for half a second.

Geto does not flinch.

He turns his head slightly, gaze lowering to where you’ve positioned yourself. His expression remains calm, but there is a subtle shift in his eyes. Calculating.

“You seem comfortable,” he says smoothly.

You smile brightly. “You’re taking up most of the couch.”

Geto’s posture does not change. If anything, he leans back further, completely at ease. His leg remains where it is, deliberately not adjusting.

“There was space elsewhere,” he replies evenly.

“I prefer this view,” you answer sweetly.

Nanami clears his throat. Haibara is visibly trying not to grin. Shoko looks entertained.

Geto studies you for a long second. Not embarrassed. Not irritated.

Interested.

“You enjoy testing boundaries,” he observes calmly.

You tilt your head. “Only the interesting ones.”

There is the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. Almost invisible.

He shifts his arm slightly along the back of the sofa — not moving away, not moving closer — but now the space behind you feels occupied by him.

“Be careful,” he says softly enough that only you hear. “Not all boundaries are harmless.”

Gojo leans back against the couch, completely oblivious or pretending to be. “If you two start flirting, I’m charging admission.”

Shoko flicks ash into a cup. “This is already more entertaining than class.”

Geto’s eyes remain on you.

Calm. Measuring.

He does not move away.

And neither do you.