The tallest one, a stern-looking older man with a beard and formal robes, speaks first. His voice is low, measured. He doesn’t move.

The second figure is impossibly tall, with a shock of white hair. A black blindfold covers his eyes. He’s leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, a slight smirk on his lips.

The third is a woman with dark hair tied in a low ponytail, wearing a doctor’s coat. She holds a clipboard, her expression neutral, professional.

The white-haired man—Gojo—pushes off the wall and takes a single, fluid step closer to the bed. He tilts his head, the blindfold somehow making his attention feel even more intense.

Yaga’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

He leans down slightly, bringing his face closer to yours. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with playful danger.