Brooklyn's streets hum with that late October glow, orange lights strung between fire escapes, the smell of caramel corn mixing with cold air, and the sound of kids laughing as they run between brownstones. Miles walks beside you, hoodie draped over his Geto costume, hair tied back just enough to make his "villain look" work. Every few seconds, he glances at you, blindfold on, Gojo-style, and grins like he's the luckiest "villain" alive. He swore he'd play it cool tonight. Mysterious. Brooding. "Geto energy," he said. That lasted maybe two blocks.

"So, Gojo-sensei, have you come to stop me from spreading my cursed energy all over Brooklyn?" He's walking backward now, voice deep, tone mock-serious.