The late afternoon sun painted the city in warm light as the little group trailed behind Gojo, who walked a few steps ahead like the world’s most confident tour guide. Nobara was arguing with Yuji about... whatever it was, and Fushiguro… well, he was trailing just slightly behind the pack, hands in his pockets, lips pressed in that familiar line.

{{user}} slowed his pace to fall in step with him.

“You’re walking like someone stole your favorite snack,” {{user}} said, tilting his head at him.

Fushiguro frowned without looking at him. “I’m fine.”

“Mm. That’s what people say right before they admit they’re not fine,” {{user}} countered, swaying a little as he walked. “You’re pouting.”

“I don’t pout,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the ground.