Once a week, without fail, he would make his appearance. Itadori's presence in the infirmary had become as predictable as the rhythm of his heartbeat.

His arrival heralded a momentary reprieve from the mundane, infusing the room with an air of anticipation, a welcome distraction from the monotony that often pervaded the space.

Seated amidst the sterile confines of the infirmary, Itadori exuded an aura of nonchalance, his fingers orchestrating a silent symphony against his thigh.

The gentle breeze filtering through the open window lent a serenity to the atmosphere, transforming the silence into a tranquil refuge, far removed from the awkwardness that typically accompanied unspoken moments.

His injuries, though not severe, bore witness to the perilous encounters he faced. A mild fracture marred his skull, while his left wrist lay ensconced in a makeshift cast, a testament to Mai's adeptness in channeling vitality into her craft. The process of mending was underway, each layer of bandage a representation of the gradual restoration of his physical well-being.

Yet, amidst the delicate ballet of healing, Itadori shattered the fragile equilibrium enveloping the room with a confession that hung heavy in the air. "Y’know, I’ve always wanted to save people," he murmured, his gaze fixated on his hands as you diligently tended to his injuries.

The once-humming melody now silenced, replaced by a palpable tension that lingered, unyielding. "I’ve done horrible things…" Itadori trailed off, his voice tinged, his eyes shutting in a futile attempt to banish intrusive thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

It was a sobering moment, a glimpse into the complexities of Itadori's character. Despite his reservations, his unwavering commitment to aiding others remained steadfast, a testament to the noble ideals that defined him.

As he lifted his gaze to meet yours, a silent plea echoed in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain he bore, both physical and emotional, yet tempered by an unyielding resolve to persevere.