Utahime stared at him for a long second. She looked him up and down, searching for injuries. He didn't have a single scratch on him. He just looked completely bored.
She rubbed her temples, turning her attention back to the giant crater in the distance.
"Satoru always goes overboard," Utahime grumbled, genuine annoyance in her voice. "He completely ruined the forest. There was absolutely no need for that level of destruction."
Ren stopped a few feet next to her. He looked at the smoking trench. "He lacks volume control."
Utahime looked at him sideways. "That is putting it incredibly lightly. He is a menace."
"Shoko said he stole her will to live," Ren noted flatly.
Utahime paused. A short, genuine laugh escaped her lips. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, clearing her throat to regain her professional composure.
"Shoko is completely right," Utahime smiled slightly, shaking her head. "I've known him since we were teenagers. He only gets worse with age."
"Good to know. I'll make sure to keep my distance," Ren said.
Utahime looked at Ren properly this time. The annoyance she usually felt dealing with anyone from Tokyo was gone. He wasn't loud. He wasn't arrogant. He didn't act like everything was a joke. He just stood there, perfectly grounded and quiet.
She crossed her arms. "You really aren't from Antarctica, are you?"
Ren gave a small, amused smile. "No. Tokyo. Gojo just likes making things complicated for no reason."
...
Crack.
The sharp ring of an aluminum bat hitting leather echoed across the sun-drenched field. Yuji Itadori took off like a bullet, rounding first base at a speed that would have shattered international athletic records, cheering at the top of his lungs.
A few yards away, Aoi Todo was loudly weeping tears of joy, declaring Yuji his "best friend" for the fifth time that inning.
Ren sat on the edge of the Tokyo dugout, his face a perfectly flat, unreadable mask. He rested his chin in his hand, staring blankly out at the diamond.
How the hell is everyone so calm? Ren thought, his brain struggling to reconcile the sheer absurdity of the situation. Twenty-four hours ago, a botanical nightmare was trying to turn us all into fertilizer. People died. A coordinated terrorist attack hit the school, and Satoru Gojo literally erased a zip code off the map with Hollow Purple.
And today? Today we're playing baseball.
He watched Satoru Gojo, wearing completely casual clothes over his uniform, loudly heckling Principal Gakuganji from behind home plate.
A sharp, dangerous aura to his left pulled Ren from his existential crisis.
Maki was sitting a few feet away, aggressively taping the grip of her bat. Her eyes, sharp behind her wire-rimmed glasses, were locked in a lethal staring contest with the opposing dugout.
Across the field, Mai Zen'in was sitting on the Kyoto bench with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of her dark hair. She was glaring right back at Maki with a toxic mixture of disdain and deeply buried resentment.
The tension between the two sisters was so thick you could cut it with a cursed tool. It was a localized cold war right there on the bleachers.
Ren let out a slow, quiet breath. He leaned back against the bench, stretching his legs out casually.
"You know," Ren said, his voice flat and perfectly conversational, completely cutting through Maki's intense focus. "If you two just locked yourselves in a room and talked for five minutes without trying to shoot or stab each other, it would probably save everyone a massive headache."
Maki's head snapped toward him, her grip on the bat tightening. A faint dust of pink hit her cheeks, partly from being called out and partly from the sheer audacity of him doing it in public. "Shut up," she hissed, glancing around to ensure no one else was listening.
"I'm just saying," Ren continued smoothly, unfazed by her glare. "The telepathic death-glares are giving me secondhand exhaustion. Yesterday was a lot. Just tell her she did a good job not dying, and move on. It's not that deep."
Maki dragged a hand down her face, desperately trying to hide the furious blush creeping up her neck. She shot him a glare that was meant to be lethal, but entirely lacked its usual heat.
"I am going to push you into a woodchipper if you don't get out there," she muttered under her breath, delivering a sharp but harmless kick to his shin under the bench where no one else could see. "You're up next, idiot."
Taking his cue to leave before her embarrassment boiled over into an actual scene, Ren gave her a brief, teasing smirk that only she could catch.
He stepped out of the dugout shadow and into the bright sun, tossing his leather glove onto the equipment bench and pulling a metal bat from the rack.
Satoru Gojo was leaning against the chain-link fence right behind home plate. He wore his usual black uniform and blindfold, but he had a blue umpire's cap sitting sideways on his head. A bright pink lollipop stuck out of the corner of his mouth.
"Look at you, playing family therapist," Gojo said around the candy stick as Ren approached the batter's box. He flashed a massive grin. "Very mature, Ren-kun. A true peacemaker."
Ren didn't look at him. He stepped up to the plate and took a slow practice swing. The metal bat cut through the air with a sharp whistle.
"I just want them to stop glaring," Ren said flatly. "The negative energy in there was giving me a headache."
"Ah, the healing power of youth," Gojo sighed, crossing his arms dramatically behind the umpire's mask. "Fixing deep-rooted clan trauma right before the first pitch. So beautiful. Did it work?"
"They haven't killed each other yet," Ren said. He rolled his shoulders, testing the weight of the bat, and tapped the plate. "We'll see."
Gojo laughed, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth. "Give it five minutes. The Zen'in girls hold grudges like it's an Olympic sport."
Out on the mound, Mechamaru paused, waiting for the catcher's signal.
Gojo didn't move from his spot right behind home plate, but as Ren settled into his stance, the teacher leaned in close to the netting, dropping his voice just enough so only Ren could hear him over the chatter of the game.
"You know," Gojo said casually, swirling the lollipop stick in his mouth. "My eyes pick up a lot of useless data. Heart rates. Core temperatures. Blood flow."
Ren kept his eyes forward, locking onto the pitching machine. "Fascinating."
"I watched the camera feeds from the forest yesterday," Gojo continued, a knowing, dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "Mai was pretty frantic when you pinned her to the dirt. Her heart rate went completely wild. And it wasn't just adrenaline from the fight."