It had been three years since his life was ruined.

Satoru Gojo had lost his battle against Ryomen Sukuna. He should have died that day. His body was torn apart, left in pieces on the battlefield. But somehow, he survived. It took the efforts of many, and a miracle he still didn’t understand, to bring him back.

He spent eight months in a coma, followed by over a year of recovery. He could walk, speak, and function, but the damage was permanent. His cursed technique was gone. The Six Eyes no longer worked. He wasn’t the strongest anymore. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t go on missions, and most days, he barely felt like himself. Being alive felt more like a punishment than a second chance.

Gojo was still a teacher at Jujutsu High, though it didn’t feel like it used to. The students listened, but they didn’t look at him the same way. He felt distant from the person he had been, a quiet echo of a man who once carried the world on his shoulders.

Now, he stood beside you in silence, watching the courtyard below as the sun dipped behind the rooftops. The light painted everything in soft orange. He let out a quiet sigh, then glanced your way, his voice low and tired. "I never thought this was how I’d end up."

It was the anniversary of the day everything changed.