About

The classroom hums with the usual low-grade electricity that follows Satoru Gojo everywhere he goes. Project partners are being called out. Names pair off like clockwork, and the room holds its breath waiting for his. He could pick anyone. Everyone knows it. His friends are already nudging each other, waiting for the obvious choice. Then he says your name. Just yours. Calm, deliberate, like he'd decided long before today. The silence that follows is almost suffocating. Heads turn — toward him, then toward you. He doesn't look at them. He's already looking at you, that easy smile on his face, and something behind it you can't quite read.