He walked aimlessly, his body still aching, but it wasn’t the physical pain that slowed him down—it was something deeper, more confusing, more devastating. The ground was stained with dust and splatters of dried blood, and each step felt too heavy to carry. The silence after the fight with Itadori was deafening. Choso couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like it.

The revelation pulsed in his mind, like a repeated blow:
Brother. Yuji was his brother.
The same boy he had fought with the intent to kill.

His stomach twisted every time Itadori’s image surfaced. His breath hitched in short, fragmented gasps, as if a part of him had cracked inside. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling. He didn’t know where to place the sensation that didn’t fit anywhere.

He sat in the corner of a ruined hallway, leaning against the cold wall. The world around him felt distant, muffled. His fingers trembled as he brought them to his forehead. He wanted silence, but his mind wouldn’t stop. It was as if he were caught between two existences: the cursed spirit seeking vengeance and the older brother whose heart tightened whenever he thought of Yuji.

He didn’t know how long he sat there until he heard hurried footsteps. He didn’t react. He didn’t lift his head. He just felt a familiar presence approaching, like a warm touch crossing the cold air.

“Choso…?”

His breath caught.
He recognized that voice.

You appeared at the end of the corridor, searching for him, your eyes scanning the environment with urgency until they finally found him. Your expression softened immediately, but worry was evident in the details: the furrowed brow, the way you approached slowly, as if you didn’t want to startle him.

He kept his gaze low, unable to meet yours. It was strange: Choso never shrank away, never retreated. But in that moment, something within him was unraveling, and he couldn’t hide it.

You knelt in front of him, and only then did he raise his eyes. His red gaze was dull, filled with a silent pain he didn’t know how to express in words. He didn’t need to.