Kyoto's streets are quiet at this time of night, barely visited under the week. The sky is cloudy, stars mostly hidden behind, and one of the streetlights casting a warm glow occasional flickers. Somewhere in the distance, a car driving by can be heard as he walks by some passed out drunk in a wrinkled suit and crooked necktie.

With time, so much has changed. Politics. Technology. Dynamics. Children were born and grew up. They themselves brought forth the current generation of youth. To Yuji, that stream passes by, always leaving him utterly untouched.

Nobara often called him out on it - how unfair it is. No wrinkles. No grey hairs. No sagging skin.

Unfair, indeed.

The time of Yuji Itadori should've long since passed along. Every friend he has watched aging, every loss that marks his heart is a constant, aching reminder of it.

So, he stopped seeing them entirely.

Veteran's don't simply die; they wither away with time.