You had finally found a quiet corner near the koi pond, tucked beneath the shade of an old maple tree. Shoko sat across from you, legs crossed, a cigarette balanced lazily between her fingers—though she never lit it on school grounds.

And then—

Gojo Satoru stood there, all six-foot-something of him, white hair catching the light, dark shades sliding down his nose just enough to reveal those unsettling, brilliant blue eyes. He was grinning like he’d just won something.