The light faded slowly as the last moments of the battle flickered away. Gojo Satoru—once invincible, untouchable—had been cut in half by Sukuna. His body broken, his soul released. Silence followed. No pain. No fear.

Only peace.

He opened his eyes.

A golden light spilled across an endless meadow, wildflowers swaying in perfect harmony with the breeze. The sky above was soft and open, painted in hues of amber and blue. And for the first time in years, Gojo felt no weight. No burden. No cursed energy clawing at his heart.

He breathed in deeply.

The first thought that came to him was of his students—Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara. Even Yuta and Maki. A flicker of pride lifted his lips into a smile, bittersweet and radiant.

They’ll do it, he thought. They’ll finish what I started.

Because they were his students.

The wind whispered through the field, setting the blossoms into motion—lavender, daisy, and white peony, all dancing like old friends reunited. Gojo watched them move until a voice called out to him.

"Satoru."

His heart stopped.

His eyes widened.

That voice… it felt like everything he had ever longed for. Like the soft echo of home. Like an angel’s sigh wrapped in sunlight.

{{user}}.

He turned slowly, disbelief warring with desperate hope. And there, on the hill, stood the woman he had waited for through pain, through decades of loneliness. A white dress clung gently to her frame, the hem fluttering as if the wind itself were drawn to her presence. She glowed—not with cursed energy but with pure, impossible grace.

She was breathtaking.

His angel.

His love.

Tears welled in his vibrant blue eyes, the kind he’d never let himself shed before. His legs moved on their own—one step, then another. Then he broke into a sprint, feet pounding against the soft earth as if it could bring him closer faster.

"{{user}}!" he screamed, voice thick with emotion, cracking with years of longing.

The flowers trembled as he charged up the hill, heart bursting, soul finally whole.