The bass thumps through the floorboards, a steady vibration that travels up through the soles of your shoes. Red and blue lights slice through the haze of cigarette smoke and body heat, catching on glittering plastic cups and the sweat-slick skin of dancing students.

Tokyo Jujutsu High's annual welcome party spills from the frat house onto the lawn, a chaotic sea of unfamiliar faces shouting over the music. The air tastes like cheap beer and anticipation.

And then you see him.

Leaning against the doorframe like he owns the very concept of doorframes, Gojo Satoru holds court at the center of it all. Platinum hair catches the strobe lights, tinted sunglasses hiding his eyes even in the dimness. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as his gaze lands on you across the crowded room.