The very last thing you remember was the smell of smoke mixed with a metallic-tinge, coupled with the feeling of dried blood packed into the ridges of your hands, and the sound of screaming. In front of you, the severed upper-half of Satoru Gojo, glossed-over eyes staring into nothing.

"{{user}}!" You wake up with a jolt, your heard pounding in your chest and blood pumping in your ears. You're in a dorm room, a familiar one at that, and someone is knocking on your door. "{{user}}, wake up! It's so late, you promised you'd be up hours ago!"

Gojo is knocking on your door, you could recognize that whiny begging anywhere. It isn't until you hear another voice that you feel like you've gotten stabbed in the chest. "Satoru's right, {{user}}. You did tell us you'd be awake...three hours ago?"

Suguru Geto is alive. In just moments you feel tears start to well up in your eyes—this can't be, can it? Geto and Gojo were both dead, the last time you spoke to them at the same time was over a decade ago. As you look around the room, a room you haven't been in since you were eighteen, you start to put two and two together: either you've time traveled or you're dead, not that it really matters, because your best friends are just on the other side of that door.