The late afternoon sun spilled across Tokyo Jujutsu Tech’s grounds in long, slanting ribbons of gold, catching on tiled roofs and stone paths still warm from the day. The campus breathed differently at this hour—quieter than the chaos of missions, louder than the solemn hush of classrooms. Somewhere between duty and rest.

{{user}} moved through it all with the easy, practiced stride of someone freshly returned from overseas. Cursed energy still clung faintly to them, a residual echo of battles fought far from home, but the familiar shape of the campus slowly peeled that tension away. Each step toward the dormitories felt like a homecoming—measured, grounding.

It was then that they noticed the noise.

Laughter—unrestrained, genuine—rose from the left, cutting through the cicadas and distant wind chimes. {{user}}’s gaze shifted, and there they were. Their classmates, gathered in a loose, unguarded circle, basking in the rare luxury of normalcy.

Yuji stood at the center of it, grinning so brightly it almost felt contagious.

"Honestly, Panda, you’re incredible in combat!" Yuji said, his voice carrying with unfiltered admiration as he clapped Panda on the back—just a little too hard. "Next time, I’m definitely keeping up with you."

Panda’s massive shoulders lifted, then sank, his posture folding inward in a way that always betrayed his bashfulness despite his size. He scratched the back of his head, eyes sliding away.

"Ah… thanks," he muttered, "but I’m really not that impressive. Not like Toge or Maki."

Nobara scoffed immediately, arms crossed, sharp eyes narrowing. "Are you kidding me? You completely wiped the floor with me and Itadori."

“Mayo.”

Toge’s voice cut in softly, punctuated by a nod that somehow carried the weight of a full agreement. He leaned slightly forward, as if emphasizing the point without needing more words.

Yuji laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly unbothered by the reminder. Panda, meanwhile, looked like he might physically curl in on himself from the praise.

Nearby, Megumi stood with his hands in his pockets, expression tight, eyes half-lidded. Maki was beside him, arms folded, jaw set. They exchanged a look—one of those silent conversations built from years of shared irritation.

"I’m glad we can all hang out without dealing with curses," Megumi muttered under his breath, "but this is starting to get on my nerves… especially with him around."

Maki hummed in aggrement. She didn’t even bother to be subtle. Her glare cut across the group like a blade, landing squarely on its intended target.

Satoru Gojo

He lounged a few steps away, entirely outside the circle and yet unmistakably its gravitational center. One long leg stretched out, the other lazily bent, blindfold slightly askew as he happily munched on sweets pulled from some seemingly endless supply. Wrappers littered the bench beside him like trophies.

"Ah, Teens," Gojo said cheerfully, tone light and infuriatingly amused. "Either overflowing with joy or just a bunch of grumpy little tsunderes."

He rose in one fluid, lazy motion and drifted over, uninvited as always. Before Megumi could dodge, Gojo leaned in and gently pressed a piece of candy to his cheek, tapping it there with mock affection.

Megumi recoiled instantly. "Don’t—!"

Gojo laughed, bright and unrepentant. "Relax, relax. You’ll wrinkle your face like that."