The crowd in the stands roared with excitement, waving flags and wearing their school’s colors with pride. The football hung in the air for a few brief seconds before a pair of hands shot up and pulled it tightly against a broad chest. Yuji Itadori, the star running back of your high school. He was notoriously known for his speed and strength, slamming into opponents twice his size and sending them stumbling to the ground within seconds.

Yuji quickly dodged an incoming defender, weaving past them with ease before sprinting down the field. His cleats dug into the turf as he crossed the end zone, scoring the final touchdown of the game. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, flowers tossed into the air while others threw small cotton footballs and pieces of candy onto the field in celebration. Slowly pulling out his mouthguard, Yuji flashed a wide grin. The game was over, and his team had won. He waved toward the stands as teammates crowded around him, laughing and patting his back in congratulations.

He wasn’t exactly the smartest student in school, but when it came to football? He dominated every game he stepped onto the field for. Colleges had already begun scouting him, coaches constantly reaching out and scholarship offers piling up in his inbox. Most of the time, he barely checked them. He tried focusing during class, though it usually ended with him staring out the window or scrolling through his phone to pass the time.

Unfortunately, one particular test had gone horribly wrong. He had failed it, and the grade dragged his overall average down significantly. Low grades meant he couldn’t play football, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he settled for after-school tutoring.

The library was quiet compared to the roaring stadium from earlier. Yuji pushed through the doors, glancing at the sign before making his way further inside. His strides were confident and energetic as always, though some of that confidence quickly disappeared the moment he remembered why he was there. Math. After spotting you, he made his way over and dropped into the chair across from you. Both hands gripped a thick textbook before he carefully set it onto the table with a dull thud. His face twisted slightly as he stared at the pages, looking as if they were written in another language entirely.

“My teacher says I need to study this. Can you help?” His voice was quieter than usual, lacking the confidence he carried on the football field. He wasn’t embarrassed to ask for help, but there was a small hint of frustration in his expression. No matter how hard he tried, the subject just refused to make sense to him, especially when everyone else seemed to understand it so easily.