As you returned from the exhausting field trip, the afternoon sun casting long, dappled shadows across the polished floors of Jujutsu High, you exhaled a deep sigh, shoulders heavy with the lingering energy of the day. Your fingers wrapped around the cool, familiar handle of the dormitory door, pushing it open with a quiet creak. However, any expectation of solitude vanished in an instant—your eyes widened as, to your great surprise, both Itadori and Fushiguro were already there, comfortably stationed in your room as if they belonged.

Blinking in momentary confusion, you tilted your head, trying to piece together their presence in the midst of your exhaustion. "Um... hello, boys," you muttered, voice laced with bewilderment and the remnants of fatigue. "What can I do for you?"

Itadori's face lit up with an easy, almost mischievous grin, his vibrant energy cutting through the quiet air like a blade. "Nothing!" he declared with animated enthusiasm, leaning forward with an air of playful innocence. "We just wanted to have some fun with you!"

On the other hand, Megumi exhaled a drawn-out sigh, running a hand through his dark hair in mild exasperation. "Actually, we were just wondering where you were." His voice lacked the buoyancy of Itadori's but carried that familiar, ever-present concern simmering beneath his usual indifference.

You, however, weren't so easily convinced. Crossing your arms, you fixed them both with a steady, inquisitive stare. "I was out with Gojo and Geto," you responded matter-of-factly, arching a brow. "Why?"

A beat of silence passed, thick with unspoken thoughts, the energy in the room shifting as the weight of your words settled over them.

Itadori's smile lingered, his expression light and unbothered, while Fushiguro exhaled a quiet hum, his sharp gaze flickering in contemplation. "I see. Well then," he murmured, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. With a subtle wave, he signaled Itadori to follow. "Come along. It's best we let our friend rest in peace anyway."

Their footsteps faded into the hallway, and you found yourself blinking at the unexpected departure. How strange they were—those two, with their contrasting energies like night and day, yet equally enigmatic in their own ways. Shaking your head, you let the thought slip away, rolling your shoulders as fatigue settled deep into your bones.

With a sigh, you pulled off your jacket, letting it drape over the arm of the couch before sinking into the plush cushions. The exhaustion from the long day weighed down your limbs, but still, you reached for the remote, aimlessly flipping through channels. The flickering light of the television cast fleeting shadows across the room as colors danced across the screen, yet none of it truly registered—the warmth of sleep was already creeping in.

Unbeknownst to you, just beyond the glass of your window, a figure stood in the cool night air. His soft, light blue hair shone under the gentle glow of the moon, and a quiet smile touched his lips—warm, knowing, filled with something deeper. His eyes, steady and unwavering, remained fixed on you as your breathing slowed, your consciousness drifting away.

"I've got you," he whispered, the words lost to the night.

SCENEBRBEAK'

The early morning light seeped through the wooden drafters, casting golden streaks across the walls, gentle but insistent, nudging you out of unconsciousness. Your eyelashes fluttered open, just a sliver at first, before a slow sigh escaped your lips, your body unwilling to part from the warmth of sleep. The weight of exhaustion still clung to your limbs, but you knew you couldn't afford to laze around.

Better get up, you thought, stretching your stiff muscles before pushing yourself upright. The soft hum of the television, which had been left on all night, filled the quiet room with muted chatter and flickering images. With a languid movement, you pressed the power button, plunging the space into peaceful silence.

Just as the hush settled, your phone rang, the sudden vibration against the surface jolting you into full awareness. You answered quickly, voice soft yet expectant, "Yes?" The response on the other end came not in words but in a quiet, shuddering sob. Your breath hitched.

"Oh... yes. It is you."

Your heart clenched at the sound of barely restrained tears, the familiarity of the voice sending an ache through your chest.

"Izuku?" you whispered, a touch of worry creeping into your tone.

A broken hum crackled through the connection. "Yes, it's me," the voice choked out, uneven and raw. Another quiet sob followed before he exhaled shakily. "I was so worried, Y/N. When I first tried to call you, you wouldn't answer, and I—I thought something bad had happened."

A pang of guilt surged through you. Slowly, you sank onto the plush cushion beneath you, pressing a soothing hand against your forehead as if it could erase the tightness building there.

"Oh, Izuku," you murmured, regret woven into every syllable. "I am so sorry. I—I should have told you that I was going somewhere."

A soft sniffle echoed through the speaker, followed by an audible shake of his head. "No, it's okay," he reassured, though his voice still carried the remnants of his fear. "Just... tell me that you're okay."

A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your fingers tightening gently around the phone. Warmth flooded your voice as you spoke, soft but unshaken.

"I am." A quiet pause, then, a lighter note to your words, "Now... how is the class?"

The conversation moved forward, the weight of the previous moment lingering faintly, but something between you had settled—bonded tighter through worry and reassurance, through distance and reunion.

SCENEBRBEAK'

You exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound light yet tinged with resignation. "I didn't think Aizawa cared," you admitted, shaking your head. "I mean, I know he's my teacher, but still..." A giggle bubbled up despite yourself, though it lacked any real mirth. "I guess I've disappointed everyone then. Oh, I'm so sorry."

Izuku's breathing trembled on the other end of the line before he let out a quiet sniffle. "No, it's okay. You didn't," he reassured, voice laced with exhaustion, as if the weight of worry had drained him entirely. A sigh followed, soft yet firm. "Just... come back soon, okay? As soon as you can."

You hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers pressing lightly against the screen as though the contact could reassure him further. "I will. Bye, Izuku."

A quiet pause, then his gentle, heartfelt response. "Goodbye."

The call ended with a soft click. You remained still, staring at your phone, your thoughts swirling in slow, heavy motions. A deep breath filled your lungs before you allowed the words that had been clawing at your mind to finally surface.

So... I really screwed up, huh?

"I don't think so."

Your body tensed instantly. The voice—deep, laced with something unreadable—pulled you back to sharp awareness. You turned swiftly, eyes snapping toward the source.

A man stood just a few feet away, every inch of him an unsettling composition of scars, pale blue hair, and a grin that barely concealed something deeper, something calculating. His body bore evidence of old wounds, fractures of pain etched into his very skin.

Your gaze hardened in an instant, your stance shifting slightly. Intruder.

"How did you get into my house?" your voice edged with suspicion, embers of something dangerous flickering beneath the words. "I don't let strangers in."

The man merely smiled, unfazed. "And yet," he drawled, tilting his scarred head, "you let a bunch of teenagers in without much problem." His grin broadened, his frame relaxed as he leaned against the wall with an air of casual amusement. He lifted his hand slightly, gesturing toward the door. "I came in through there. You really should lock it."

A quick glance confirmed it—the door, carelessly cracked open. Damn.

"Anyway," the man continued smoothly, his voice thick with something unreadable, "my name is Mahtio." He observed you intently, his gaze sharper than his lazy posture suggested. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, his grin curled wider, almost knowing. "And you are Y/N L/N... a strange apparition in this world." His eyes glinted. "You don't belong here, do you?"

Your teeth gritted at his words, a fissure of alarm creeping into your chest. How the hell does he know?

Your fingers curled into fists, your voice dropping into something colder. "What do you care?"

You stiffened as Mahtio stepped closer, his presence somehow heavier than the dimly lit room could contain. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey, his scarred skin illuminated in soft streaks by the morning light spilling through the windows.

"I have been watching you ever since you appeared in this world," he murmured, his voice low, carrying the weight of an undeniable truth. His words sent an unsettling shiver through you—because in the depths of your mind, you had felt something, an unknown gaze lingering at the edges of your awareness.

His lips curled into something between amusement and calculation. "Gojo and Geto brought you to this place," he continued, his tone almost conversational, though the implications of his words held something far colder behind them. "You know that not much is hidden in the world of justice."

A pause. Then, he closed the last bit of distance between you, his figure looming over you as you sat frozen on the sofa. Every instinct in you screamed for you to move—to put space between yourself and the unknown variable that was this man—but you held your ground, keeping your expression neutral despite the quickened beat of your heart.

Slowly, he extended a hand toward you, as if this was all meant to be casual. A simple deal. Something harmless.

"Let's be friends, yeah?"

The grin that accompanied his words was sharp, unreadable. His hand remained outstretched, but the air between you was thick with something far more dangerous than a simple offer of companionship.