The sky over Tokyo was a bruised, heavy shade of charcoal, as if the world itself had lost the strength to hold back the weight of the atmosphere. The battle that had leveled Shinjuku was over; the King of Curses had been quelled, but the cost was a void that no victory could ever truly fill. Satoru Gojo lay within a simple, elegant casket of dark wood, his features finally settled into a peace that had eluded him since the moment he was born with the weight of the world in his eyes. He wasn't wearing the blindfold today. His eyes were closed, his long white lashes resting against skin that looked like carved marble. For the first time in twenty-eight years, the Six Eyes were still.

The funeral was attended by those who had survived the carnage. Shoko Ieiri stood at the front, her hands trembling as she lit a final cigarette she didn't intend to smoke. Yuta Okkotsu, Maki Zenin, and the rest of the second-years stood in a line, their faces masks of disciplined grief. Itadori Yuji and Megumi Fushiguro were a few paces back, their shoulders shaking with a quiet, hollowed-out sorrow. You were the only one who hadn't stood up when the ceremony ended. You knelt on the damp earth directly beside the coffin, your forehead pressed against the cold wood. You had been his anchor, the one person who saw the man behind the "Strongest" label, and now, you were the one left to guard his silence.

As the first heavy drops of rain began to fall, no one moved. But the drizzle quickly turned into a violent, unrelenting downpour, a summer storm that lashed at the mourners and turned the funeral grounds into a sea of mud. One by one, the sorcerers began to retreat toward the shelter of the temple eaves, their black umbrellas bowing under the wind. "Sensei wouldn't want us to catch pneumonia," Panda murmured softly, his fur soaked through. "We should go," Nobara whispered, her voice cracking. "It’s... it’s over." But you didn't move. The rain soaked through your black mourning clothes, pinning the fabric to your skin and matting your hair, but you remained anchored to the side of the casket. You were oblivious to the cold, oblivious to the concerned glances of the students who lingered at the edge of the path.

Yuji stepped forward, his hand outstretched toward you, his face wet with a mixture of rain and tears. "Please... you've been here for hours. He wouldn't... Satoru-sensei wouldn't want you to be like this. You're shivering." Megumi placed a hand on Yuji’s shoulder, shaking his head slowly. He knew that look in your eyes—the look of someone who was waiting for the impossible, waiting for the Infinity to flicker back to life one last time. "Let her stay," Maki said, her voice unusually soft, though her grip on her staff was white-knuckled. "She’s the only one of us who really knew what he was carrying. She’s saying goodbye to the man, not the sorcerer."

The rain intensified, a wall of water that blurred the silhouettes of the surrounding trees. You reached out, your fingers tracing the edge of the lid, right where his head would be resting inside. In your mind, you could still hear his voice—that annoying, playful, arrogant lilt that had filled your penthouse just weeks ago. You could still feel the phantom heat of his hand on yours, the way he would deactivate his Infinity just to touch your skin. The others eventually retreated, leaving you alone in the deluge. The sound of the rain against the coffin was a rhythmic, hollow drumming. You didn't care about the cold or the darkness creeping in at the edges of the cemetery. You simply leaned your cheek against the wood, closing your eyes and letting the storm wash over you, staying in the only place in the world where you still felt his presence, even if it was fading like the scent of incense in the wind.