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Third Person POV + [Y/N]'s POV:
Amid the opulent ambiance of the gala, where shimmering dresses and impeccably tailored suits dance in the soft glow of chandeliers, a subtle shift in the air sends a ripple of unease through the event.
In an instant, Gojo's senses snap to attention, an instinctual awareness that cuts through the veneer of celebration. It's the sensation of impending danger, the unmistakable signal that Sukuna is poised to make his entrance.
Without hesitation, Gojo's focused gaze scans the room, his mind rapidly assessing the situation. In a heartbeat, he recognises the urgency of the moment and the potential threat it carries. With unyielding resolve, he dashes forward, his strides purposeful and determined.
Rushing into the heart of the event, Gojo's commanding presence draws attention even amidst the splatter of chattering guests and clinking glasses. He spots Principal Yaga, a pillar of authority in the chaos. Gojo's hand grips Yaga's arm firmly, his eyes conveying the gravity of the situation even before words are spoken.
"We need everyone to evacuate the building immediately. Code red," Gojo's words are direct, a command forged from the urgency of the situation. Yaga's expression shifts, his innate understanding of the danger mirrored in his resolute nod.
With reassurance that's both silent and palpable, Gojo pats Yaga on the back, acknowledging the weight of their shared responsibility. "Just leave it to me," Yaga's response is unwavering, his commitment to the safety of the school community resolute.
As Gojo turns to leave, his focus renewed, he can't help but admire the fortitude of the man he's come to respect. But his thoughts are already shifting, his priorities clear. He has to find her, ensure her safety amid the looming threat.
"Now I need to look for my girl," Gojo's words hold a touch of urgency, a sentiment that mirrors his racing heartbeat. With every step he takes, the pursuit of her becomes more than an instinct—it's an unwavering mission to protect what matters most.
• • •
Emerging from the bathroom feels like stepping into a whirlwind. The world sways around me, a kaleidoscope of colours and laughter, fuelled by the potent concoctions that have blurred my senses. My steps are as unsteady as my thoughts, each footfall a delicate dance with gravity.
Yet, amid the sensory chaos, a jarring sound pierces through me—the shrill wail of alarm bells. The urgency of it snaps my gaze upwards, and suddenly the world crystallises into stark focus. Panic grips my chest as I realise what the alarms signify—the need to evacuate. Around me, a tide of people surges in a frantic rush, their movements a blur of desperation.
I stand frozen, confusion etching lines across my brow. Then, like a beacon through the chaos, I spot Gojo in the distance. With a tipsy grin, I call out, "Gojoooo~," my voice tinged with mirthful inebriation.
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