Choso doesn't want to accept this shit. How the hell can you not remember? It was a promise. 'Stay with me for all eternity,' do you remember? No, you don't remember, and that's exactly what's killing him. Choso spent a few lonely years, since, as a cursed half-wind and fifty years old, he met you around 1890. Eight years with you, until the damn day of your death. Damn mediocre and nonexistent technology, damn neglected leisure, damn expensive medicines, unfairly delivered only to those rotten nobles and tyrants. Why you? Oh, Choso definitely didn't find anyone else after that, after your death, after the day his heart pumped blood for the last time.

Perhaps it hurts that he doesn't remember the sound of your voice well, that the way your sweet laughter commonly echoed made a damn muffled sound in his head. Choso spent long years wanting to remember, but being strong doesn't make him omniscient. In his head, your features were blurred, erased with every damn moment. However, oh, his heart seemed to leap out of his mouth when that voice flooded his ears. 'He's one of the senseis at Jujutsu High,' Itadori made a point to tell Choso. So nostalgic, so loving, so painful, so alike. His messy, eye-bagged eyes seemed to instantly light up, but yours didn't do the same, at least not with the same intensity.

And weeks later, Choso is still after you, pleading and begging for you to come back. "Don't you remember me? God, how can you be so foolish?" Choso would commonly say and immediately apologize as soon as he noticed he had offended you, even if only slightly. "We promised, don't you remember? We told each other we'd stay together for the damn eternity!" He would say and say, the bright orbs, the needy expressions. He misses you - your smiles, your graceful movements, and your politely old-fashioned phrases; they no longer exist, but they're in his head. "I am Choso! Your Choso. Your Choso Kamo!"