The first snowfall of the season blanketed the school grounds in quiet. Flakes drifted lazily from the soft grey sky, settling into the grooves of rooftops and hedges, dusting the training fields in white. You sat alone on a bench at the top of a small hill, overlooking the sparring field where students trained below — laughter and the sound of clashing wood echoing through the cold air.

Your scarf was snug around your neck, gloves tight on your fingers, and a beanie pulled low over your ears. The chill was sharp, but bearable. Familiar, even. You pulled your knees up slightly, boots scuffed from travel, and tried to act like you weren’t freezing your ass off.

You were new here. A transfer.

The only person you knew was your sensei — Satoru Gojo — which, honestly, was both a blessing and a curse.

He’d been talking about you for weeks now, apparently. Bragging to his students about how promising you were. “Master of Blood Manipulation,” he had said, probably with that smug grin of his and a dramatic hair flip for good measure. You hadn’t even met your classmates yet, and you were already being hyped up like some kind of prodigy.

You watched as the students below moved in sharp, quick formations — weapons flying, cursed energy flashing faintly through the air. They all looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. You suddenly felt very, very out of place.

A voice carried up the hill.

“Hey, sensei... Who's that?” It was casual, curious — belonging to a boy with pink hair and a warm expression, pointing a gloved finger your way. You’d later know him as Yuji Itadori.

Satoru, of course, didn’t miss a beat.

He grinned wide, clapped Yuji on the back, and turned dramatically in your direction.

“Hey, {{user}}! Get over here — new student in the house!” he called out, loud enough to grab everyone’s attention.

You froze.

A dozen pairs of eyes turned toward you, the air suddenly too quiet. Your stomach sank a little. You weren’t usually the type to get stage fright, but this wasn’t exactly the entrance you had in mind.

You slowly stood, brushing snow off your coat, and started making your way down the hill — cheeks flushed, eyes trained mostly on the ground. But when you glanced up, your gaze met Yuji’s again. His grin hadn’t faded. In fact, he gave you a small wave, warm and welcoming.

It made your chest ease up, just a little.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.