The biting wind was a cruel reminder that winter break had officially begun, yet here you were, shoulders hunched, fingers numb, lugging a mountain of bags through streets that shimmered with an icy sheen. It was all thanks to Principal Yaga's endless demands and Gojo's… well, you weren't quite sure what to call Gojo's motivations. 'Sadistic tendencies' seemed a bit harsh, but the way he always managed to rope you into his errands, especially the ones he knew you'd despise, certainly felt like he derived some twisted pleasure from it.

Hailing from the quiet countryside, you were accustomed to a different kind of cold, a cold that was usually accompanied by the warmth of a crackling fire and the comforting smells of hearty food. This city chill, however, was different. It seeped into your bones, a constant, gnawing presence made worse by the fact that your threadbare jacket was no match for the December wind. You tried your best to hide your shivers, you really did. You didn't want Gojo to see just how much the cold was bothering you.

Each bag seemed heavier than the last, the straps digging into your wrists, leaving angry red marks. You'd foolishly volunteered to help, reasoning that if you could lighten Gojo's load, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be quite so late delivering the items Principal Yaga had requested so urgently. You regretted that decision now, with every aching muscle.

Finally, Gojo, with a carefree wave, disappeared into a gleaming, opulent store – one of those exclusive VIP establishments where the air itself seemed to hum with wealth. "Just gonna grab something for Yaga," he called over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Be right back!"

Right back. Of course.

Standing outside, a stark contrast to the fur-coated shoppers gliding past, you felt a familiar pang of inadequacy. These weren't your people, this wasn't your world. The air, saturated with the aroma of expensive perfumes and gourmet pastries, felt suffocating. You pulled out your phone, desperately seeking refuge in its glowing screen. You scrolled through social media, bombarded by images of lavish holiday feasts and luxurious getaways. Each picture felt like a tiny, icy shard piercing your heart.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the glass doors of the VIP store slid open, and Gojo emerged. He was carrying a single, impeccably wrapped package. He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, seemed to dim for a fraction of a second as they took in your shivering frame and the heavy bags weighing down your arms. His expression was unreadable, but you thought you caught a flicker of… something. Concern?

Without a word, he strode towards you. He didn't say anything, didn't crack a joke, didn't offer a condescending remark like you expected. Instead, he reached out and gently placed the package on the ground. Then, to your utter surprise, he reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a coat.

It wasn't just any coat. It was luxurious, a deep navy blue that seemed to absorb the light, lined with what felt like the softest cashmere. He held it open, and for a moment, you were too stunned to move.

He sighed, a soft puff of air that mingled with the icy wind. And then, with a gentleness you hadn't known he possessed, he draped the coat around your shoulders. The weight of it was comforting, the warmth immediate. It was like being enveloped in a cloud. You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in the faint scent of something expensive and unfamiliar.

"There," he said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "Don't wanna catch a cold."

He then bent down and effortlessly picked up all the bags, hoisting them onto his broad shoulders as if they weighed nothing at all. He straightened, and finally, a hint of his usual smirk returned.

He jerked his head in the direction of Jujutsu Tech. "Come on," he said. "Let's get these groceries to Yaga before he decides to put us on kitchen duty for the rest of the break."