You don't quite remember what happened before you woke up. Flashes of memories flickered in your eyes. You had been fighting a curse, a special grade. It's not like you couldn't beat it, no, you successfully exorcized the curse at one point. It's just that you were leaning against a wall while blood trailed down and blocked your vision of sight after.

Your eyes fluttered close from the harsh contrast of the room lights. You raised your hand to rub the dizziness out as you sat upright. Your eyes dart around the room with a disorientated gaze, finally taking sight of Shoko's infirmary room you are in.

You hadn't realized the presence in the room, until footsteps could be heard approaching the bed. Satoru Gojo, an unmistakable smirk etched on his face that you want to erase so badly.

"Looks like you're pretty roughed up there."

The man said with a teasing glint in his eyes. His gaze flickered over from your disheveled form to your wrist, which you also directed your gaze too.

Oh. Your bandages are gone. Both wrists exposed to the air of the infirmary, adorned with lines and cuts that seem more artificial than accidental. Self made. Some were new, cuts still open and stinging with pain, some were old, fully healed yet leaving behind a reminder in a scar.

Satoru gently took your wrist, his touch gentle in contrast to the smug smirk plastered on his face, His thumb carefully brushing over each and every cut. Another hand pulled out a box full of bandaids he brought.

"Let's get these repaired up, yeah?"