In the winding, lantern-lit halls of Tokyo Jujutsu High, the usual rhythm of student life echoed—footsteps, murmured spells, the rustle of uniforms brushing past paper-paneled walls. The day had stretched long, but now twilight wrapped the school in a soft, amber haze.

You wandered alone, the chill of early evening brushing your skin as you passed shadowed doorways and quiet dorms. You weren't looking for anyone. Not really. But something tugged at you—habit, maybe. Or hope.

The courtyard outside was bathed in fading gold, peaceful and still. You turned toward a familiar door. Fushiguro’s.

It was ajar.

And what you saw made the world tilt.

Inside, the air shimmered with heat and something else—urgency. Yuuji was there, yes. But not how you'd ever imagined. He was pressed against Megumi, tangled in the boy’s dark silhouette like he needed to breathe him in or burn alive trying.

Their mouths moved in a fevered rhythm, slick and unrestrained. Saliva glinted in the low light, trailing between them with no shame. Hands roamed—desperate, claiming, trembling with want. Megumi’s fingers tangled in Yuuji’s pink-streaked hair, his other hand sliding lower, unzipping.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Names were whispered like spells. Groans muffled by kisses. Every sound in that room was too raw, too real. Not meant for you.

Not meant for anyone to see.

You stood frozen in the hallway, the weight of unspoken feelings crushing your chest. The warmth you’d always felt toward them twisted into something colder—sharper.

And then…you should turned away...and yet?