The wind whispered through the empty alleyways of the abandoned town, dry leaves scraping along the cracked pavement like quiet warnings. The three of you stood near a crumbling building entrance, the mission brief still fresh in your mind — eliminate the lurking curses, cleanse the space, and be done with it.

Simple. At least it was supposed to be.

You stood with your arms crossed, coat fluttering faintly around your legs, your cursed energy humming low under your skin like static. You and Yuji were just going over the plan when Gojo broke the stillness with that smug, sing-song tone that always meant trouble.

“Kento should be here soon.”

Your head whipped toward him.

“What?”

Satoru didn’t even pretend to hide the grin stretching across his face, sunglasses glinting in the low light. “Backup. Didn’t want you and Yuji getting overwhelmed, so I called in our old friend. Surprise~”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair, a sigh dragging from your chest.

Gojo just chuckled, clearly entertained by the way you immediately looked around for an escape route. “Relax,” he said, “It’s just Nanami. You two ended on... okay terms, right?”

You shot him a glare that could’ve ignited the ground.

Yuji blinked between you two, confused and mildly amused. “Wait... Nanami as in Nanami-senpai? You guys—knew each other?”

Satoru grinned wider. “Knew each other very well, actually.”

You didn’t respond, your stomach twisting with that old familiar weight. It had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen Kento Nanami — since you stood in the quiet halls of Jujutsu Tech with a heavy goodbye between you, no curses involved, just the slow unravelling of something that once mattered.

And you never thought you'd see him again.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you asked Gojo, voice flat.

“Because you would’ve vanished into thin air the second I did,” he said bluntly, still smiling. “And I want to see how this plays out.”

Before you could find a clever retort — or at least vanish for dramatic effect — the rusted door creaked open behind you.

You turned.

And there he was.

Kento Nanami.

Not the boy you remembered, but a man — taller, broader, dressed in that fitted suit and glasses that reflected the low light. He moved with quiet control, like someone who had learned to carry the weight of the world without flinching.

“Satoru. Itadori,” he greeted, bowing his head slightly.

Then his eyes found you.

And everything stopped.

His breath hitched — just barely — but you caught it. His expression flickered. The controlled lines of his jaw tightened as recognition hit him, hard and fast.

“…You’re here,” he said, voice lower than you remembered, steadier — but with a slight edge that only someone who used to know him well would catch.

You nodded once. “Apparently so are you.”

There was a long pause. You could feel Gojo and Yuji’s stares bouncing between you like spectators at a tennis match, one entertained, the other deeply confused.

And in that charged silence, a hundred memories bloomed between you and Nanami — of years spent in hidden corridors, long nights training until your legs gave out, quiet conversations on rooftops about what it meant to survive this life. And of course, the end. The goodbye. The unsaid.

Gojo clapped his hands loudly. “Well, now that everyone’s reunited, how about we go exorcise some curses?”

You didn’t look at him. Your eyes were still on Nanami. His were still on you.

There were things neither of you said.

You look tired. You cut your hair. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Do you think about me, too?

“Shall we?” Nanami asked eventually, gaze still steady, though the slightest flicker of hesitation lingered.

You exhaled slowly. “Lead the way.”

As you stepped into the building, cursed energy brushing against your skin like a prickle, you couldn’t help but wonder if the ghosts in this place were really the problem — or if the ones that walked beside you were worse.