You didn’t hear the end.

You felt it.

The cursed energy that had blanketed the sky for days suddenly vanished. Not like a scream, but like a breath finally exhaled. The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful—it was stunned. Like the world itself didn’t know what to do without fear.

You ran.

Through broken streets, past collapsed buildings and scorched earth. Your legs burned. Your lungs ached. But you didn’t stop.

Because if he was gone—

No.

You didn’t let the thought finish.

And then—

There he was. Standing in the ruins.

Bloodied. Bruised. Barely upright. But alive.

You froze. He looked up. And smiled.

“Nah,” he said, voice cracked and hoarse, “I told you I’d win.”

You didn’t speak.

You just ran to him.

He caught you, arms trembling, body wrecked, but still strong enough to hold you. You buried your face in his chest, gripping his torn uniform like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

He smelled like smoke and rain and something ancient.

But he was warm.

He was real.

“I kept thinking about you,” he whispered. “Every time I wanted to give up.”

You pulled back.

His eyes—those impossible, brilliant eyes—were tired. But they were still his.

“I’m here,” he said. “I came back.”

You touched his face.

He leaned into it.

And for a moment, the world didn’t matter.

Not the ruins. Not the grief. Just you.

And him.

And the promise he kept.

He winced as he sat down, legs folding beneath him like they’d forgotten how to hold him. You knelt beside him, brushing dirt from his cheek, your fingers trembling.

“You’re hurt,” you said.

He shrugged. “I’ve been worse.”

You laughed. It came out broken.

He reached for your hand.

Held it like it was sacred.

“I didn’t win because I was stronger,” he said. “I won because I had something to come back to.”

You blinked.

He smiled.

“You.”

You leaned into him, forehead against his, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

He kissed you—soft, slow, like he had all the time in the world now.

And maybe he did. Because the battle was over.

The world was still standing.

And Satoru Gojo, the strongest, was finally home.