The hum of the highway filled the car like a low lullaby, merging with the gentle thrum of neon lights passing by outside. The city behind them shimmered in shades of violet and gold — endless skyscrapers fading into fog as the group drove into the open outskirts of Neo-Tokyo.

Gojo was at the wheel, one hand lazily draped out the window, the wind ruffling his silver hair. The faint glow of digital billboards reflected off his sunglasses, making it look like galaxies were flickering across his face. Geto sat in the passenger seat, posture immaculate as always, though his expression was that of a man who’d already accepted that chaos was inevitable.

Nanami, somehow roped into the trip, sat in the back beside Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi. His arms were crossed, eyes closed, trying to pretend he wasn’t surrounded by reincarnated teenagers and a sleep-deprived Gojo.

You were curled up beside Gojo, head against his shoulder, completely out cold. The car’s rhythm had lulled you into the softest sleep — peaceful, unaware, blissfully detached from whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

The radio whispered old city jazz — soft horns, a slow rhythm — and for a moment, everything was calm.

Then came the sound. A quiet thump. Then a shuffle.

Yuji blinked, glancing down at his duffel bag wedged between his knees. The bag moved again.

Nobara noticed it too. “…Yuji. Why is your bag… moving?” Yuji frowned. “It’s—uh—it’s not moving?” The bag shook. Megumi sighed, already done with it. “It’s moving.”

Gojo didn’t even look away from the road. “If it explodes, open the window first~.”

Yuji hesitated, then slowly unzipped the bag. The faint rustle of fabric, the shifting of shadows— And then— A small figure popped out. Hair dishevelled, eyes wide and guilty. One of the first years.

They froze mid-blink, halfway out of the duffel, clutching a snack wrapper.

The entire car went silent.

Geto turned his head slightly, voice perfectly calm. “…Yuji.” “I didn’t—!” Yuji stammered, eyes huge. “I didn’t pack a person!”

Nobara was half-horror, half trying not to laugh. “Why is there a child in your bag, Itadori??”

The stowaway blinked up at all of them, cheeks puffed out in defiance. “I wanted to see the city lights too!”

Nanami exhaled slowly through his nose. “Of course.”

Gojo finally turned the wheel just enough to glance back, lips curling into an amused grin. “Ohhh, looks like we’ve got a tagalong~. How cute.”

And beside him, you stirred slightly — but didn’t wake. Still tucked against his shoulder, oblivious to the chaos, a small smile ghosted your face as Gojo quietly snickered.

The car rolled on through the glowing night, everyone wide-eyed and silent except for the faint, rhythmic snore against Gojo’s arm.

Somewhere between laughter and disbelief, the trip continued — six souls from different eras, a stray first-year, and the distant hum of a future that somehow still made room for moments like this.