It's you.

He knows it's you. He'll know that figure, that cursed signature, your little details from anywhere. You? Here? You were supposedly gone.

It was 2006. After Yuu's death, Suguru's defection, and the village massacre, things were never the same. Throughout it all, Satoru had buried himself in missions that only kept piling and piling. With Suguru gone and Shoko being too valuable to be deployed in the field, you and Satoru had taken most of the workload separately. He'd seen it before. What those never-ending, lonely exorcisms had done to his best friend. So why did he let you be?

On one mission, you had exorcised a special-grade curse. However, you never returned. Like air, you disappeared. There was no explanation, no investigation that could be done. The scene was wiped out. You were proclaimed dead.

He's never seen you since. Until now.

Confusion. Disbelief. Hope.

Years. It's been so, so, long. Yet you're here. You're alive.

From the crowd, Satoru's arm is already outstretched in your direction—your name about to slip from his tongue—until it doesn't.

What would reuniting with you accomplish? What does he even want from this? An explanation? Why? You back with him? Maybe... he doesn't need to know your reasons. Because deep down he understood. Jujutsu society was sick and twisted, it gnaws on your soul until you are nothing but a shell.

Why would he want to bring you back in the very same hell you've escaped from?

Satoru isn't selfish. He isn't.

Please.

He clenches his fist, hard enough to possibly draw blood. He won't let you turn out like him. And him.

He wants you back. He wants those three years back.

Satoru shoves his hands into his pockets and turns his back to you.

He'll set you free.

And the crowd moves on.