At the front of the room, Yuta Okkotsu was still packing his notebook into his bag, his movements unhurried. A small group had gathered around him, asking a final question about the seminar.

From a few rows back, Satoru Gojo watched, leaning back in his chair with his arms draped casually over the desks on either side of him. His eyes flicked to his left, to the line of sight he’d been tracking for the last ten minutes.

Y/n wasn’t subtle. Their gaze was fixed, intent, unmistakable. They weren’t even blinking.

Gojo’s grin widened. Amusing. Challenging. He shifted in his seat, the legs of his chair scraping softly against the floor.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and let his voice drop low enough that only the person beside him could hear. It was smooth, teasing, and carried just the right amount of knowing amusement.