The late afternoon air was warm, the kind that made everything at Jujutsu Tech slow down — even Suguru. He stretched lazily against the veranda railing, watching the last few students trickle out of the training grounds. From where he stood, he could see you below, chatting with your juniors, the sunlight catching in your hair. It wasn’t fair, really — how effortlessly you drew people in.

Gojo said he looked obvious when you were around. Suguru denied it, of course, but even Shoko had laughed when he turned up to every group outing “by coincidence.” He told himself he just liked your company — your easy laugh, your calm confidence — but the truth was, you’d been getting under his skin since his first year.

You’d always been friendly, approachable — the kind of upperclassman everyone admired. A Grade 1 sorcerer with a reputation for both strength and kindness. You didn’t put on airs. You didn’t flinch when Suguru teased you, either. Instead, you threw his words right back at him with that playful glint in your eyes, the one that made him grin even when you were clearly winning.

He liked that. Maybe too much.

Now, as he spotted you heading toward the cafeteria, Suguru didn’t even pretend he wasn’t following. He walked a few paces behind, half-thinking of what to say that didn’t sound too obvious. “Hey,” he finally called out, voice light, teasing. “If I keep running into you like this, people are going to start rumors.”