Early summer sunlight filtered through the sparse clouds, spilling onto the broad street outside the hotel.
Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo stood listlessly beside the Assistant Supervisor's black sedan. From a distance, they spotted three figures emerging through the hotel's revolving glass doors: you, leading Riko Amanai and Misato Kuroi slowly toward them.
Gojo held an empty soda can in one hand. With a teeth-grating crunch of twisting metal, he effortlessly crushed the aluminum cola can into a compact little ball.
Then, without even looking straight at it, he casually tossed it away. Under his exquisitely precise control of cursed energy, the little metal ball traced a perfect arc through the air and landed squarely in a recycling bin several meters away with a thunk.
Peering over the edge of his sunglasses, he surveyed Riko Amanai from afar. She wore a school uniform and held Panda, her face full of wariness. His brows furrowed slightly as he muttered in an intensely disgruntled tone.
"Tch... so I'm supposed to babysit this little brat?"
Beside him, Geto was also quietly observing the three of you as you approached. Hearing Gojo's complaint, he turned toward him, both hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy uniform trousers.
"That should be her, but Satoru, you'd better not talk like that in front of her."
Like a rebellious teenager whose freedom had been infringed upon, Gojo demanded, looking thoroughly displeased.
"Huh? Why not?"
Geto's expression grew serious. Putting on his model-student manner, he spoke earnestly.
"Satoru, I've been meaning to tell you this for a while. You really should stop calling yourself 'yours truly,' especially around your elders or on official missions. At least just say 'I.' Protecting the Star Plasma Vessel is an important matter, after all. We might even get an audience with