Toge left when he was fourteen.

You didn’t. You couldn't.

He got scouted early—Jujutsu High fast-tracked him once his Cursed Speech stabilized. But your technique stayed quiet, flickering in and out like a bad signal. Not dangerous. Not useful. Not ready.

You told him to go.

He did.

That last night, the air thick with cicadas and summer sweat, he took your hand and said, steady as anything:

“When you’re older… I’ll marry you.”

And you said nothing.

Because it was the only time his words ever hurt.

Two years later, you walk into the second-year classroom like a ghost stepping back into its own skin.

Maki is mid-sentence, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. “So apparently the transfer student shows up today. Not even a name. Classic Jujutsu High mystery box bullsh—”

She cuts off.

Every head turns.

You’re standing in the doorway.

Toge sees you.

He’s already standing by the time Maki mutters, “What the fuck?”

The classroom falls dead silent.

He crosses the room without hesitation. The sound of his prosthetic arm—soft whirring, a faint metallic clink—cuts through the stillness as he wraps it around your shoulders, pulling you in like you never left.

The silver ring on his chain shifts. It hits your collar bone.

No one says a word.

Except Panda, who grins like he’s watching the season finale of a drama only he had spoilers for. “Well. That makes sense.”

Yuta’s jaw is halfway to the floor.

Maki just stares. “Does anyone know who that is?”

Toge doesn’t explain.

You don’t either.

Because he left.

And now you’re back.

And that’s enough.