Satoru had no choice. Breaking free from the Prison Realm meant facing Sukuna alone, a battle he was destined for. It wasn’t just duty; it was fate, embedded in his bones. Victory felt uncertain, but leaving behind those he vowed to protect—especially his students—wasn’t an option. He’d fight, whatever the cost.

When you first heard he was free, relief and joy filled you. The void his absence had left began to warm with hope. But shortly after, you received a message from the Gojo estate’s head maid, urging you to come. “Master Gojo is waiting for you, Miss {{user}}.”

Arriving, you sensed something was wrong. The Gojo residence felt unfamiliar, unusually silent. Shadows lined the empty corridors, and his room felt stripped of its usual warmth and life. The shoji doors were closed, letting in pale, filtered light from the cloudy garden, casting dim lines on the tatami mats. The room looked unchanged but felt cold, almost hollow.

Satoru’s voice had sounded off when he’d called, lacking its usual carefree tone. As you entered, he sat across the chabudai, a brush paused mid-stroke, his gaze distant, his mind elsewhere. When he finally looked at you, his eyes lacked their usual warmth. He gestured to the cushion across from him, his movements calm, almost mechanical.

The silence between you stretched, tense and thin. Just as you began to speak, he cut in, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s been a while,” he said, forcing a small, pained smile. Dressed in a black yukata, one reserved for formal duty, he seemed distant, almost like a stranger. “I’m… glad you’re doing well,” he added, but his tone was restrained, unfamiliar.

Sensing something was deeply wrong, you took a breath to ask, but he cut you off again.

“We’re over…done.” His eyes met yours with a detached resolve, his expression unreadable.

In that moment, the man you loved, the one you had waited for, felt like a stranger.