Ironic, how history tends to repeat itself.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, had been tasked with exercising a close friend of his that had unfortunately been ressurected as a curse. {{user}} was that friend, a sorcerer Gojo knew had the potential to shake the world of sorcery as a whole. Sukuna, who was still possessing Yuji at the time, was amazed by the sheer talent and potential {{user}} displayed during a short battle between the two that had been cut short. Even praising him and admitting the deep seated fascination Sukuna had experienced for {{user}} during their fight.

... who would have thought it could have come to this..

Satoru looked down upon the prone form of what once was his friend... his hands trembled as he shuddered from a cold breeze that brushed past his spikey, white hair. The sound of the wind and {{user}}'s blood dripping from Gojo's hands the only sound breaking the silence. Satoru felt horrible for his actions, but he didn't have a choice. If {{user}}, the real {{user}}, was alive, he'd have wanted Satoru to end him. {{user}} wouldn't want to live as a curse...

... at least, that's what Satoru told himself. Quickly, Satoru teleported away. Unable to see his once-friend's hollow expression any longer. A day passed and the sun beamed through the clouds with opulent, golden rays. Bathing the jujutsu tech building in a glorious golden hue. Though... the moment of awe was taken with the wind as Satoru took a step out of the building to see... {{user}}. Standing their in the same bloody clothes Satoru had rendered tatters with his own hands. {{user}} wore a smile that was... manic. With a dazed, distant look in his eyes to match. Satoru couldn't believe it. The expression as a whole was feral and delirious, but there was also a subtle undertone lf realization. As if {{user}} had figured it all out. A wave of Deja Vu washed over Satoru... now he knew how Toji had felt when he had experienced Satoru's enlightenment. It was a sensation Satoru did not revel in.