Josuke Higashikata walked through the quiet streets of Morioh, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, the unbearable weight of your absence still carved into his chest. You were dead. He saw it. He held your cold body, tried to fix the impossible with Crazy Diamond, but there was nothing left to save. You were gone, and the world kept moving without you.

But then, he heard it.

A laugh. Soft, familiar. So real that the ground beneath his feet seemed to shake.

Josuke froze in place, his heart slamming against his ribs. He had to be imagining things. It was impossible. But when he lifted his gaze, his eyes landed on the window of an old café—the one you both used to go to. And there, sitting by the glass, a cup in your hands and your head tilted slightly to the side, was you.

Alive.

As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t spent sleepless nights reliving your last breath. As if time hadn’t ripped you away from him in the cruelest, most definitive way.

His blood ran cold, his hands shook. He wanted to run to you, to ask, to touch. But his throat closed up. Because if this was real… then what the hell had happened that day?