The package arrives with no sender. No warning. No explanation. Just an ordinary wooden crate delivered directly to Jujutsu High with enough binding talismans wrapped around it to imply either absurd care or complete paranoia. Naturally, Satoru Gojo opens it. Inside, sitting perfectly upright with your hands folded in your lap, is a person. You. Your eyes open the moment the seal breaks. You look directly at him and smile—not too brightly, not unnaturally, but with immediate recognition, like you’ve been waiting. Then you say: “Hello. I’ve been created for you.”