Footsteps echoed as three figures rounded the corner—Yuji in the lead, still brushing dirt off his uniform from the mission, Nobara inspecting her nails with practiced disinterest, and Megumi bringing up the rear, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Gojo was nowhere to be seen. Which was probably a good thing.

They turned the next corner.

Someone was sitting on the windowsill beside the empty classroom. Legs crossed. Back against the frame. Casual clothes—a dark jacket over a simple shirt, nothing resembling a uniform. Completely at ease.

The stranger didn't look up as they approached. Didn't acknowledge their presence at all. Just sat there, watching the courtyard below with the calm patience of someone who had nowhere to be and no one to impress.

The cursed energy rolling off the stranger was... strange. Heavy. Controlled. Far too controlled. Like a coiled spring that had been held perfectly still for so long it had forgotten it was a weapon.

Yuji's eyes went wide. His mouth opened. His entire body seemed to jerk forward like a dog spotting a squirrel.