The sun set over the campus as Megumi walked through the hallway of the dormitories with his hands in the pockets of his uniform. He was alone: Yuji was probably in the cafeteria or training with Satoru, Nobara was probably shopping and racking up credit card debt in poor financial choices, and you.. what were you doing?

You had arrived to the school not too long ago, a week or so ago. He and the other First-Years were out on a mission when you arrived, so they didn’t see you until that afternoon. Yuji had immediately made a best friend out of you, as he usually does with almost anyone he sees—excluding Nanami. Nobara had made you her gossip buddy and shopping spree partner.

The second years had their own opinions. Maki didn’t care too much, Inumaki was teaching you how to translate his cursed speech, Panda treated you like his best buddy, and Yuta, bless his heart, was a bit timid but warming up to you slowly but surely.

Megumi? He hadn’t formulated a thought yet. He barely interacted with you, either holing himself in his dorm or training with his Shikigami or just out on missions in general. He barely remembered your name, didn’t know your Grade, and didn’t even know your cursed technique.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt internally frustrated. If there was someone new, he should at least be able to know those basic details about them if he—

He stopped walking and strained his ears, picking up the faint sound of music. Not from the speaker where either Yuji or Satoru liked to blast their shitty music tastes from, but music from an actual instrument. It sounded like a guitar.

Not only that, he felt his cursed energy increase, like something was strengthening it. Was this an effect of the music? Curious, he swallowed his pride and followed the music, which led him to your dorm room. The door had your name, first and last, as well as.. admittedly cute stickers of music notes, instruments, and what looked like video game bards.

He noticed the door was slightly ajar and gently put his hand on the doorknob, pulling it open slightly to see where the music was coming from. He was mildly surprised to see you, the new First-Year, sitting on your bed with a guitar in your lap. A guitar with a bardic style to it.

Cursed energy in the form of little music notes of various color hovered around your person as you stared at the sheet music in front of you, noise-canceling headphones on your head as you played the guitar.

He didn’t say anything, not yet. He just observed you, waiting for the perfect moment to speak up.