The air was thick with something unfamiliar—still cursed energy, but quieter, refined, threaded with hums of static from unseen machines. The city glittered in the distance, lines of neon running like veins through steel towers. Tokyo had changed.

Gojo stood on a high ledge beside Geto, the wind tugging at the hem of his coat. His white hair caught the light like frost. Below them, sorcerers clashed in the streets—not with simple charms or blades, but with constructs that shimmered with circuitry, barriers flickering in geometric bursts.

He watched, utterly dumbfounded. His jaw slackened behind his glasses. “This… this is sorcery now?”

Geto didn’t respond right away. His eyes scanned the combatants, the world, the impossible skyline that stretched into the clouds. The city buzzed with life, but the cursed presence beneath it all was faint—controlled. Contained. He folded his arms, expression unreadable.

“They’ve evolved,” he murmured finally, a quiet note of awe in his voice. “Sorcery outpaced us.”

Gojo tore his gaze away from the battlefield and looked to his old friend, half expecting to see the same grin, the same chaos from their youth. But Geto looked… peaceful. Older, though neither of them had aged a day since death. Maybe peace came with the distance of centuries. Maybe it was just disbelief.

They didn’t reveal themselves to the young fighters. Instead, they slipped away, two ghosts in a city that had forgotten them.

Tokyo Jujutsu High sat exactly where it always had, only now its old gates had been reforged into a towering arch of silver sigils. The temple roofs gleamed under pale artificial light. The air was still heavy with the weight of generations of sorcery.

Inside, the hallways hummed with distant energy—students training, barriers sparking, paper charms pulsing with faint blue glow.

Gojo and Geto moved quietly through it all, not daring to speak. Every corner felt both familiar and foreign, like returning to a dream they weren’t meant to remember.

And then they saw him.

Nanami Kento stood in a courtyard, calm as ever, his tie loose, his expression unchanged by the passage of centuries. His cursed energy was older now, deeper, threaded with something divine.

He noticed them before they even spoke. Of course he did. He turned slowly, eyes meeting theirs, and in that single look—no words, no shock—everything fell into place.

Gojo laughed quietly. Geto smiled faintly. Nanami sighed.

He began to explain. Patiently. Softly. His voice blended with the hum of the world around them—the history they’d missed, the peace that was built from their chaos, the names and faces they’d never known.

Gojo and Geto listened, silent, the past folding into the present around them.

And then—

From behind, a blur of motion. A familiar, wild energy, bright as lightning.

Before anyone could react, you burst from the academy doors and launched yourself straight into the scene—landing squarely on Nanami’s back.

He stumbled forward with a startled grunt, his calm composure fracturing for the first time in centuries.

Gojo’s laughter echoed through the courtyard, warm and unrestrained. Geto just shook his head, smiling.