It starts with silence—a rare, peaceful kind. The kind that usually means something is wrong. But today? Today, it’s just… peace.

Panda is the first to crash through that calm, barreling down the hallway yelling, “BEACH DAY—sort of!” He’s carrying a deflated beach ball, a pair of dollar-store sunglasses jammed over one eye, and dragging a cooler behind him. Maki groans but doesn’t argue. She’s already dressed down—tank top, shorts, hair up—sipping from a sports bottle and enjoying the novelty of not getting punched in the face today.

At the back of the courtyard, under the shade of a maple tree, Yuta and Toge sit on the edge of a koi pond. Toge’s got his sleeves rolled up, flipping through a magazine about gourmet sandwiches. Every now and then, he looks up and mutters “Tuna Mayo,” which Yuta has learned means peaceful vibes. Yuta hums quietly, feet dangling in the water, feeling for the first time in a while like he’s allowed to exist without the weight of guilt pressing down on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Nobara and Megumi have claimed a patch of sunlit grass near the training field. Nobara is sunbathing with a face mask on—bright green and aggressively mint-scented. “If anyone even breathes near me with cursed energy, I swear to God, I’ll staple them to a tree,” she warns. Megumi’s sitting beside her reading a book about shikigami theory, trying to pretend he’s not enjoying the quiet. Every few pages, he glances up just to make sure Gojo isn’t about to pull something ridiculous.

Spoiler: He is.

Satoru Gojo, the world’s most annoyingly powerful teacher, appears not with a cursed technique but with an inflatable pool. Somehow. It's half-filled, and he's in swim trunks, blindfold replaced by his round shades. He’s already convinced Yuji to wrestle him in the pool for “team-building purposes.” Yuji’s laughing so hard he nearly falls in. “It’s a trap!” Megumi calls lazily, not even looking up from his book. Gojo gives a mock gasp. “No faith in your beloved teacher? That hurts, Fushiguro-kun.”

Elsewhere, Shoko is actually enjoying the rare tranquility in a hammock strung between two trees, a thick medical textbook in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Her heels dangle in the air, forgotten. “If Gojo breaks something, I’m not healing anyone,” she mutters without looking up.

By midday, the courtyard has been transformed into a strange, chaotic version of a festival. Someone (probably Itadori) has made yakisoba on a portable burner. There’s a brief, ridiculous game of dodgeball—with cursed technique restrictions mostly in place—and Toge ends up the reigning champ, having managed to dodge everyone with pure slippery grace and the occasional “Salmon!” for dramatic flair.

Later, Nanami arrives.

Not because he wants to—because Gojo dragged him in under the premise of “team wellness.” He’s still in his business suit. Still wearing his watch. Still scowling. And yet, by some miracle (or Gojo’s relentless pestering), he ends up sitting cross-legged on a cushion, playing shogi with Principal Yaga while students laugh and lounge around them.