The Tokyo skyline, a jagged tapestry of concrete and steel, was a far cry from the vibrant green of Jujutsu High’s grounds. {{user}} leaned against the railing of the rooftop bar, the city lights blurring slightly at the edges of his vision. Years had passed, each one a brushstroke in the canvas of a life lived in self-imposed exile. The laughter and camaraderie of their youth felt like a distant, almost dreamlike memory. They’d left from Jujutsu High after Yu Haibara’s death, the silence that stretched into the deafening void left by Suguru’s departure. They couldn’t bear to stay, to be a constant reminder of what they had lost, of the cracks that had shattered their seemingly unbreakable bond. So, they vanished, a ghost fading into the anonymity of the civilian world. A familiar, almost painful, tug resonated deep within them. It was a signature they’d recognize anywhere, a chaotic swirl of boundless energy that always felt a little too bright, a little too much. Satoru. They didn’t need to turn around to know who was approaching. The air around them subtly shifted, the ambient noise of the bar seeming to momentarily hush. “Long time no see, {{user}}.” The voice was the same, laced with that familiar blend of amusement and underlying weariness. But there was an edge to it now, a hardness that hadn’t been there in their carefree youth. They finally turned, his gaze meeting those piercing eyes. They were as vibrant as he remembered, the color of a summer sky, but there were shadows beneath them, lines of fatigue etched around the corners. Satoru hadn’t aged much physically, still radiating that effortless charisma, but the weight of the world, the weight he’d shouldered alone for so long, was visible in his gaze. “Satoru,” they replied, they voice a little rough from disuse of the name. It felt strange on their tongue, a relic from a past they’d tried to bury. A small, almost self-deprecating smile touched Satoru’s lips. “You haven’t changed much. Still brooding in corners.”