Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night was unusually quiet for a city like Tokyo. The usual bustling sounds of traffic and chatter seemed distant, muted by the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold. You stood in the middle of your shared apartment, the dim light casting long shadows on the floor. Every corner of the room held memories — remnants of a love that once felt unbreakable, but now seemed so fragile, like a house of cards swaying on a crumbling foundation.

You looked at Satoru, his tall frame leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes fixated on something far beyond the room. His signature blindfold hung around his neck, a rare sight these days, as though he was letting his guard down. But that’s what made this harder. It wasn’t the impenetrable sorcerer before you. It was the man you had shared so much with. The man you were about to walk away from.

“Do you even care anymore?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, trembling, almost afraid of the answer.

Satoru’s gaze flickered to you, the usual spark of playfulness absent from his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t respond, and that silence spoke volumes. His mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but then it closed again, like he couldn’t find the right words or maybe didn’t want to.

Your heart clenched painfully. “You can’t even answer me, can you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

It never was with him. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the man who could see through anything, yet when it came to you — to emotions, to love — he always danced around the truth. It was like he was terrified of confronting the reality that not everything could be fixed with power or confidence.

“I thought we were stronger than this.” Your voice cracked, betraying the control you desperately tried to maintain. “But now... I don’t even know if you want this anymore.”

He pushed away from the counter, crossing his arms as he moved toward you, but there was no warmth in his expression. He looked distant, detached. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Physically? Sure. But that’s not enough anymore, Satoru. I need more than that.”

More. You needed more than the empty moments when he would come home late, too tired to even talk. More than the brief glances and half-hearted reassurances. You had grown used to the silence between you, but the pain of it had become unbearable.

“We haven’t been ‘us’ in a long time,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know.” His reply was quick, like he had rehearsed it in his mind. Like he knew this conversation was coming but had hoped to avoid it. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Then why don’t you fight for us? Why don’t you show me that I matter?”

His eyes met yours for a brief second, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual cockiness. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by the cool indifference that had become all too familiar.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, and the honesty of it hurt more than you expected.

You stared at him, feeling a mixture of anger and sorrow wash over you. “You don’t know how?”

“All I’ve ever known is how to protect, how to fight. I don’t know how to...” His voice trailed off as he looked away again, his jaw tense.

“You don’t know how to love,” you finished for him, and it wasn’t a question. It was a truth that had lingered between you for too long. The truth that neither of you had ever spoken aloud until now.

The silence stretched between you once again, a heavy, suffocating pause that filled the room like an unspoken curse. You had always known that loving Gojo Satoru came with complications. He wasn’t the kind of man who gave his heart easily, and when he did, it came with walls, barriers that you could never fully break through. But you had thought — hoped — that with time, those walls would come down. That he would let you in.

But they never did. And you were tired of waiting.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, the finality of your words hanging in the air like the closing act of a play.

Satoru’s eyes widened slightly, a flash of something — panic? Regret? — crossing his face. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. “So, that’s it? You’re just... giving up?”

“I’m not giving up.” You took a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “I’ve been fighting for us this whole time, Satoru. But I can’t fight alone.”

He stepped closer, but the distance between you felt insurmountable. “You’re the one who wants to leave,” he said, his voice low, almost accusatory.

“Because I’m exhausted,” you snapped, your voice rising with frustration. “I’m exhausted from pretending like we’re okay when we’re not. I’m tired of trying to be the one to fix things when you won’t even try.”

He was silent again, and that silence was louder than any argument. You had been waiting for him to fight, to show you that you meant something. But he just stood there, staring at you with those emotionless blue eyes, as if this was just another one of life’s many inconveniences.

Your throat tightened, and the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. “I loved you, Satoru. I still do. But love isn’t enough if you don’t want this as much as I do.”

His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out, but he didn’t. He stayed rooted in place, his expression unreadable. “I never asked you to fight for me.”

That sentence — that single, careless sentence — shattered whatever was left of your heart. You stared at him, disbelief and pain written all over your face. How could he say that? After everything?

You took a step back, wiping away the tears angrily. “Maybe that’s the problem,” you whispered, your voice broken. “Maybe you never wanted me to.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t move. He just watched as you turned toward the door, your footsteps heavy as you grabbed your jacket from the couch. Every part of you screamed to stay, to turn back and fight one last time. But your heart had nothing left to give.

“Satoru,” you said softly, pausing at the door. “You once told me you’d protect me from anything. I guess you didn’t realize I’d need protection from you, too.”

And with that, you left, closing the door behind you.

The streets were cold, empty, mirroring the hollow ache inside your chest. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, and the farther you walked, the more distant the apartment — your shared home — became. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to get away. Away from the man who had broken your heart in ways he couldn’t even understand.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it. You couldn’t deal with anyone right now. The only sound was the rhythmic echo of your footsteps against the pavement and the steady beat of your broken heart.

You didn’t know where you were going at first — your feet just carried you forward, as if they had a destination in mind before your brain could catch up.

When you finally stopped, you found yourself standing outside a familiar apartment building. Nanami’s.

You blinked, surprised at where you had ended up. You hadn’t intended to come here — hadn’t even thought about it. But now that you were standing in front of his door, there was nowhere else you wanted to be. Nanami was your rock, the person you turned to when everything felt like it was crumbling around you. He had been there through every high and low, always steady, always reliable.

And tonight, you needed that more than ever.

You knocked softly, your knuckles barely grazing the wood, as if you were afraid to make too much noise, to draw too much attention to the wreckage of your heart.

It didn’t take long before the door opened, revealing Nanami in his usual attire — neat, composed, though there was a slight furrow of concern in his brow when he saw you standing there.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was calm, steady, but you could hear the underlying question. Why are you here?

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, the tears you had been holding back since you left Satoru’s apartment began to spill over, silently falling down your cheeks. You hated this — hated being weak, being vulnerable. But in front of Nanami, there was no point in pretending.

His expression softened, and without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to walk inside. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you had felt all night.

You stood in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold yourself together. But the weight of it all was too much.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

Nanami closed the door softly behind you, his footsteps quiet as he approached. “You don’t have to apologize.” His voice was gentle, but firm, a reminder that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

You sank onto the couch, your hands trembling in your lap. You couldn’t even look up at him, the shame of everything weighing down on you. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t think…”

He sat down next to you, leaving just enough space to give you room to breathe but close enough to remind you that you weren’t alone. “What happened?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the concern in his tone, the worry he had for you.

You didn’t know how to explain it. How could you put into words the feeling of watching everything you had built with someone slowly fall apart? How could you describe the pain of realizing that the person you loved most in the world didn’t — or couldn’t — fight for you?

“It’s over,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Satoru and I… we’re done.”

There it was. The truth you had been avoiding for so long, spoken aloud for the first time. The finality of it hit you like a tidal wave, and you found yourself gasping for air as the tears came faster, harder.

Nanami was quiet for a moment, processing your words. He had always been perceptive, had always known more about your relationship with Satoru than you had ever told him. But hearing it, hearing you admit it out loud — it made it real.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice filled with the kind of sincerity that only Nanami could convey.

You shook your head, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s just… it hurts. It hurts so much.”

And it did. Every part of you ached, the pain of it radiating through your chest, your limbs, your very soul. You had spent so much of your life with Satoru — loving him, fighting for him — that now, without him, you didn’t know who you were. You felt like a shell of yourself, hollow and broken.

Nanami reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Just his presence, his steady, unwavering presence, was enough to ground you, to remind you that even in the midst of all this pain, you weren’t alone.

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that allowed you to breathe, to collect your thoughts, to simply exist without the pressure of having to explain everything all at once.

After a few moments, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just don’t understand how it got to this point. How did we get so broken?”

Nanami’s gaze was calm, thoughtful. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, “things fall apart, no matter how hard we try to hold them together. It doesn’t mean you failed. It just means… it wasn’t meant to last the way it was.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back another wave of tears. “But I loved him. I still do.”

“And that’s okay,” Nanami replied gently. “Loving someone doesn’t mean it will always work out. It just means you cared. That’s not something to regret.”

You let his words wash over you, trying to find comfort in them, even though the pain still lingered, sharp and unyielding. “I wanted him to fight for us. I wanted him to prove that we were worth something.”

Nanami’s eyes softened. “Sometimes people don’t know how to fight for what they want. Or they think they’re protecting you by not fighting. But that doesn’t make it any less painful.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you fully believed that. It didn’t make the hurt any less real.

The silence returned, but this time, it was a little easier to bear. You leaned back against the couch, letting your head fall against the cushions. Nanami stayed beside you, his presence a quiet comfort, his steady breathing a reminder that not everything in your life had to be as chaotic as your relationship with Satoru had been.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time.”

You nodded, grateful for his calm, rational approach to things. He had always been the grounding force in your life, the one who could see things clearly when everything felt overwhelming. And right now, you needed that clarity more than anything.

But no matter how hard you tried, the ache in your chest remained. The emptiness that Satoru had left behind was still there, and you knew it would be for a long time.

The days after that night blurred into one another. Each morning, you woke up with a dull ache in your chest, a hollow reminder of everything you’d lost. You didn’t even know how long it had been since you last saw him — a few days, maybe a week — but Satoru never called. He never texted.

The silence from him was deafening.

At first, you had convinced yourself that he just needed space. That he would reach out when he was ready, when he had processed everything. But as each day passed without so much as a word from him, that hope began to fade, replaced by something darker — doubt.

Maybe he never cared at all.

That thought crept into your mind late at night, when you were alone in the quiet of Nanami’s guest room, staring at the ceiling. It gnawed at you, kept you awake until the early hours of the morning, running through every interaction you had ever had with him, searching for proof that he had cared, that he had loved you. But the more you thought about it, the more uncertain you became.

Had Satoru ever truly loved you? Or had you simply been another piece in his complicated, chaotic life?

Nanami had been kind enough to let you stay with him after you showed up at his door in tears. He hadn’t pushed you to talk any further about Satoru, hadn’t pried into your feelings. Instead, he had offered you a place to stay, a quiet space to breathe, and for that, you were grateful. But no amount of comfort could fix the deepening void inside of you.

Each day, you found yourself sinking further into that emptiness. You stopped eating properly, barely managing a few bites of food before your stomach turned. You didn’t have the energy to leave the apartment, didn’t have the will to engage in anything beyond the bare minimum. You weren’t living — you were just existing.

It felt as if you were slowly depleting, bit by bit, until there was nothing left of the person you once were.

Nanami noticed, of course. He would leave breakfast for you each morning, offering quiet reassurances that you didn’t have to eat if you weren’t ready. He would check in on you throughout the day, his concern palpable but never overbearing. But even he couldn’t reach the part of you that felt irreparably broken.

One evening, you sat by the window, staring blankly out at the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, the sounds of life carrying on below you, but you felt completely disconnected from it all. It was as though the world was moving forward, and you were stuck in place, frozen in time, unable to follow.

The faint buzz of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts, and your heart leapt in your chest for a brief moment — until you realized it wasn’t him. It never was.

You let out a shaky breath, biting your lip as you stared at the blank screen. You hadn’t reached out to Satoru either, not since that night. But part of you had been waiting — hoping — that he would be the one to break the silence, to reach out and tell you that he still cared.

But he never did.

And that silence, that absence, was louder than any argument. It was a void that consumed you, making you question everything you thought you knew about him — about yourself. Had you misread everything? Had he ever really loved you, or had you been deluding yourself this entire time?

Maybe you were just another fleeting moment in his life. Maybe you had never been as important to him as he was to you.

The thought twisted in your chest like a knife, sharp and painful. You had given so much of yourself to him, had fought so hard for your relationship, but now it felt like none of it had mattered. He hadn’t even bothered to call.

If he had cared, wouldn’t he have tried?

“(Y/N).”

Nanami’s voice broke through the fog in your mind, pulling you back to the present. You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his usual calm expression tinged with concern.

“You haven’t touched your dinner,” he said softly, nodding toward the untouched plate of food on the table.

You glanced at it, barely registering its presence. “I’m not hungry,” you muttered.

Nanami’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push. He never did. Instead, he walked over to the window, standing beside you, his gaze following yours out into the city. “You need to take care of yourself,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall again. “I don’t know how to stop,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It just... it hurts so much.”

He was silent for a moment, letting your words hang in the air before responding. “It’s going to hurt for a while. That’s the nature of loss. But you can’t let it consume you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “It already has.”

Nanami sighed softly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re stronger than you think, (Y/N). I’ve seen you fight through worse.”

“I don’t feel strong,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I feel... broken.”

“You’re not broken,” he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “You’re just hurt. And that’s okay.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers trembling slightly. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that you could move past this, that the pain wouldn’t last forever. But right now, it felt endless. It felt like you would never be whole again.

“What if he never cared?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Nanami glanced at you, his expression softening. “He cared,” he said quietly. “But caring doesn’t always mean things work out.”

“But he didn’t even call,” you said, your voice breaking. “He didn’t try to fix it. He just... let me go.”

Nanami was quiet for a long moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Sometimes people don’t know how to handle loss. They shut down. They think silence is easier than facing the pain.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. “But it wasn’t easier for me.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But you can’t let his actions define your worth.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you fully believed it. The pain in your chest was still there, sharp and unrelenting, and the silence from Satoru echoed louder than ever.

Maybe Nanami was right. Maybe Satoru had cared in his own way, even if he hadn’t shown it the way you needed him to. But right now, all you could feel was the emptiness he had left behind.

Gojo Satoru stood in the middle of the clearing, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts. The night air was cool, but his body felt like it was on fire, every muscle tense, his blood boiling beneath his skin. The remnants of the curses he had just exorcised lay in crumpled heaps around him, the flickering remnants of their malevolent energy quickly fading into nothing.

His hands were shaking, knuckles white from the force with which he’d summoned his cursed techniques. He had wiped them out in minutes — no, seconds. They hadn’t even stood a chance, but it didn’t matter. The adrenaline, the rush of power coursing through his veins, it wasn’t enough to numb the seething anger that burned inside him.

The curses weren’t the enemy tonight.

He was.

Satoru clenched his fists, his nails biting into the palms of his hands as he tried to rein in the tempest of emotions swirling inside him. But it was no use. The rage, the guilt — it all kept coming back, suffocating him, choking him from the inside out. Every hit, every strike he had delivered to those curses was aimed at himself. Every blow was a futile attempt to beat down the self-loathing that had been festering inside him since that night.

Since the night you walked out.

He had tried to keep it together. Tried to tell himself that it was for the best, that letting you go was the right thing to do. But the truth was that he had been lying to himself. He had convinced himself that giving you space, staying silent, was the only way to handle it. But now, standing here, surrounded by the aftermath of his own destructive power, he realized how much of a coward he had been.

Because the truth was — he was scared. Scared of what would happen if he let himself admit how much he cared. Scared of how vulnerable that would make him. Vulnerability was weakness, and Satoru Gojo couldn’t afford to be weak.

But when it came to you, none of that mattered. Because without you, everything felt wrong.

His breath hitched as a surge of anger flared up again, and before he knew it, his hand lashed out, sending a blast of cursed energy into a nearby tree, shattering it into splinters. The crack of wood breaking filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the ache in his chest. He wanted to destroy something. Anything. Everything.

But it wouldn’t change the fact that he had already destroyed the one thing that mattered most.

You.

The memory of your face that night haunted him — the way your voice had trembled when you told him you couldn’t do it anymore, the look in your eyes when you realized he wasn’t going to fight for you. He had stood there, rooted to the spot, too afraid to say what needed to be said. Too afraid to admit that he was just as broken as you were.

He had watched you leave. Watched the door close behind you without stopping you. Without calling out. Without doing anything.

The strongest sorcerer, and yet, when it came to you, he had been powerless.

Satoru let out a growl of frustration, cursing himself under his breath. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to call you, to text you, to show up at your door and tell you that he was sorry. That he did care. But every time he picked up the phone, his hand would freeze, his mind racing with a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t.

You needed space. He had told himself that so many times it had become a mantra. But was that the real reason? Or was it just an excuse because he was too afraid to confront what he had done?

Satoru’s chest tightened painfully as the guilt gnawed at him again. He had let you walk away because he thought it would be easier — easier to let things fall apart than to face the mess he had made. But now, all he felt was regret. A deep, suffocating regret that twisted like a knife in his gut, cutting deeper with each passing day.

He ran a hand through his hair, yanking at the strands as if the physical pain could somehow drown out the storm raging inside him. But it didn’t. Nothing could. You were everywhere — in every thought, in every breath, in every empty moment he spent alone.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something else, something bigger, something that would make the ache go away. But no matter how much destruction he caused, it wouldn’t fix what was broken inside him.

You.

It had always been you.

He had tried to distance himself, tried to convince himself that keeping you at arm’s length was the right thing to do. But the truth was, he had been a coward. He had been too afraid to let you see the parts of him that weren’t perfect. The parts that were vulnerable, messy, and uncertain. He had been so used to being the strongest, the one everyone relied on, that he didn’t know how to be anything else.

But with you, none of that mattered. With you, he didn’t need to be perfect. And that scared him more than anything else.

Because loving you meant letting down his guard, and Satoru Gojo didn’t let down his guard for anyone.

Except, he had let it down with you, hadn’t he? In small, subtle ways, he had shown you pieces of himself that no one else had ever seen. He had let you in, but he hadn’t let you stay. He had pushed you away, thinking it would protect you both.

But now, standing here, surrounded by the wreckage of his own anger, he realized how wrong he had been.

Satoru’s hands trembled again, and he clenched them into fists, trying to steady himself. His heart was pounding in his chest, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet of the night.

He wanted to call you. God, he wanted to hear your voice. But every time he thought about it, his mind filled with doubts. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if you were better off without him? What if reaching out only made things worse?

He hated this. He hated feeling so out of control, so helpless. He had always prided himself on being able to handle anything, to face any challenge head-on. But this? This was different. This was emotional, messy, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Satoru let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He could fight curses, he could protect the world, but when it came to you… he didn’t know how to protect what mattered most.

He didn’t know how to protect you from him.

And that realization hit him harder than anything else. Because maybe, just maybe, the reason he hadn’t called, the reason he hadn’t reached out, wasn’t because you needed space.

It was because he thought you’d be better off without him.

---

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the training grounds, bathing the area in a warm, golden light. Gojo Satoru stood with his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his uniform, his ever-present blindfold hiding the expression in his eyes. From the outside, he looked the same as always—calm, confident, and utterly unaffected. But inside, a storm was brewing, one that had been raging since the moment you walked out of his life.

He kept his posture relaxed as he watched Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi spar in the center of the field. Their progress had been steady, and even now, Itadori’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned. Nobara, as usual, was fierce and relentless, her determination never in question. And Megumi—always the quiet observer, always calculating—was the one Satoru found himself focusing on more today.

Because Megumi knew.

Of course, the others didn’t. They were still too caught up in their own training to notice the subtle shift in Satoru’s demeanor, the way his usually carefree attitude seemed just a bit more forced, his jokes not as sharp. But Megumi had always been perceptive, far more than he let on. And Satoru knew the kid had picked up on the fact that something was wrong.

Something—or someone—was missing.

“Yo, sensei!” Itadori’s voice pulled Satoru from his thoughts, his usual bright grin plastered on his face. “Where’s (Y/N)-sensei been? We haven’t seen her in a while.”

Satoru’s heart clenched painfully in his chest at the sound of your name, but he didn’t let it show. Not outwardly. His mask remained firmly in place, the cool, confident demeanor never slipping. He tilted his head, feigning casual nonchalance as he turned to face Itadori.

“Oh, she’s just been busy,” he said, his voice light, dismissive. “You know how it is. Lots of missions and all that.”

It was a lie, of course. A flimsy excuse to cover up the gaping hole that your absence had left in both his life and theirs. But he couldn’t let them see that. He couldn’t let them know how much it was affecting him.

Itadori blinked, clearly not convinced. “Really? She didn’t say anything about it before.”

Satoru waved a hand dismissively, his signature smirk pulling at his lips. “That’s because she’s a pro. Doesn’t want to bother you kids with the details.”

Itadori still looked uncertain, but before he could press further, Nobara jumped in, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “It’s weird, though. She never takes this much time off. Is she okay?”

Satoru’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he kept the smirk on his face, hiding the tension that was building inside him. “She’s fine,” he said, a little too quickly. “Just busy. She’ll be back soon.”

That, too, was a lie. He didn’t know when—or if—you’d come back. The last thing he had heard was that you were staying with Nanami, but that was weeks ago, and you hadn’t reached out since. The thought of you being so far removed from him, so distant, made the knot in his chest tighten even further.

He wanted to reach out to you. He wanted to fix this, to bring you back into his life, but every time he thought about it, the same doubts plagued him. Maybe you were better off without him. Maybe you didn’t need him the way he needed you.

“Sensei?” Itadori’s voice broke through the haze of Satoru’s thoughts again, and this time, there was genuine concern in his expression. “You sure everything’s alright?”

Satoru forced a grin, ruffling Itadori’s hair playfully. “Don’t worry, Yuji. Everything’s fine. Just focus on your training, okay?”

Itadori smiled, albeit a little hesitantly, before returning to his sparring match with Nobara. Satoru let out a silent breath, his chest still tight with the weight of the conversation. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, at masking what he really felt, but today, it was harder than usual.

As the sparring session continued, Satoru’s gaze shifted to Megumi, who had been silent the entire time. The younger sorcerer’s expression was unreadable, his focus seemingly on the match between Itadori and Nobara. But Satoru knew better. He knew that Megumi had been watching him, observing him with that same quiet intensity that always made Satoru feel like the kid could see right through him.

And today, Satoru had the unsettling feeling that Megumi knew exactly what was going on.

As if sensing Satoru’s eyes on him, Megumi glanced up, his dark eyes meeting Satoru’s through the blindfold. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the unspoken truth hanging in the air between them. Megumi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a weight behind his gaze, a silent understanding that Satoru both appreciated and dreaded.

Megumi knew.

But he didn’t say anything. He never did. He simply observed, watching as Satoru struggled to keep his composure, to maintain the facade of the untouchable, unshakable sorcerer he was supposed to be.

The training session dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as Satoru’s mind wandered back to you. He had thought that keeping himself busy, focusing on his students, would help take his mind off things, but it wasn’t working. No matter how hard he tried to push it down, the guilt, the regret, kept rising to the surface.

He had failed you. He had let you walk away, let you leave without fighting for what the two of you had built. And now, standing here, watching his students spar, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of that failure pressing down on him, suffocating him.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Satoru called out, his voice louder than necessary as he tried to shake off the lingering tension in his chest. “You guys did great. Take the rest of the day off.”

Itadori and Nobara exchanged glances, clearly confused by the sudden end to the session, but neither of them questioned it. They gathered their things and headed back toward the school, leaving Satoru alone with Megumi.

Satoru could feel Megumi’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to face him. Instead, he stared at the ground, his hands still tucked into his pockets as he tried to steady his breathing, to calm the storm inside him.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” Megumi said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

Satoru’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Not right now.

“I know something’s wrong,” Megumi continued, his tone calm, measured. “But if you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s fine.”

Satoru finally turned to look at him, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. “You’re too perceptive for your own good, Megumi,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge.

Megumi shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Just looking out for my sensei.”

Satoru let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. I know.”

Megumi didn’t press any further. He simply nodded once before turning to leave, giving Satoru the space he so desperately needed.

But as the younger sorcerer walked away, Satoru was left standing there, alone with his thoughts. And for the first time in a long time, the silence felt unbearable.

Satoru unlocked the door to the apartment, his fingers trembling slightly as the key slid into place. The familiar creak of the door as it swung open echoed through the empty space, a sound that used to be comforting but now felt hollow, like everything else in his life. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, but the silence that greeted him was almost deafening.

It was the same apartment he had shared with you. The same furniture, the same photographs on the walls, the same little details that made it home. But without you here, it felt like a museum of the life you used to have together, each corner of the room filled with reminders of what was now lost.

Satoru stood in the entryway for a moment, his eyes scanning the room as if he expected you to walk out of the kitchen or call out to him from the couch. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the city beyond the windows and the steady beat of his own heart, heavy and uneven in his chest.

The weight of it all—the regret, the guilt, the crushing realization of what he had let slip through his fingers—settled over him like a suffocating blanket, and for the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo felt powerless.

He took a step forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were walking through a dream, or maybe a nightmare. His eyes landed on the small shelf by the door, where a collection of your things still remained. Your keys, your favorite book, the small trinket you had picked up on one of your missions. They were all still here, untouched, as if waiting for you to come back and claim them.

But you weren’t coming back. And the reality of that hit him harder than any curse ever had.

Satoru’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms as he forced himself to move deeper into the apartment. Every step felt like a battle, each room he entered filled with memories of you—memories that now felt like open wounds, raw and aching.

The kitchen was the worst. It had always been your space, the place where you would spend lazy mornings together, drinking coffee and teasing each other about the day ahead. He could still picture you there, standing by the counter with that soft smile on your face, your hair falling into your eyes as you laughed at one of his terrible jokes.

But now, the counter was bare, the coffee machine silent. There were no more shared breakfasts, no more stolen moments of happiness. Just the cold, empty reality of the life he had ruined.

Satoru swallowed hard, his throat tight as he moved toward the living room. His eyes fell on the couch, the same one where you used to curl up with a blanket and a book, where the two of you had spent countless evenings tangled up in each other’s arms, lost in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

He sat down slowly, his body sinking into the cushions as the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once. The walls of the apartment seemed to close in around him, each object, each memory, like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He had thought that giving you space would make things easier, that it would somehow solve the mess that he had created. But now, sitting here alone in the apartment that still smelled faintly of you, he realized how wrong he had been.

He should have fought for you. He should have told you how much you meant to him, how much he needed you. But instead, he had let you walk away. He had watched as everything fell apart and did nothing to stop it.

And now, he was left with nothing but the pieces of a life that no longer made sense without you in it.

Satoru leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. His heart was pounding in his chest, the overwhelming sense of loss pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t lift. He had never felt like this before—so utterly helpless, so lost. He had always been the strongest, always the one in control. But this… this was something he couldn’t fix with power or strength.

He didn’t know how to fix this at all.

The apartment was too quiet, too still. Without you, it was just an empty space, a shell of what it once was. And the worst part was, Satoru wasn’t sure if he deserved to have you back. Maybe you were better off without him. Maybe you had moved on, found peace in the life you had without him.

The thought made his stomach twist painfully, but he didn’t try to push it away. He let it sink in, let it settle in his chest like a stone. Because deep down, he knew it was his fault. He had pushed you away, too afraid to let you in, too scared to let himself be vulnerable with you.

And now, he was paying the price.

Satoru lifted his head, his eyes scanning the room once more, taking in all the little details that made this place feel like home. But it wasn’t home anymore. Not without you.

A part of him wanted to call you, to hear your voice, to ask you to come back. But he knew that wasn’t fair. He had let you go. He had made that choice. And now, he had to live with it.

He stood up slowly, his body feeling heavy, as if the weight of his emotions had finally caught up with him. The apartment felt colder now, the emptiness more palpable than before. But he didn’t have the energy to leave. Not yet.

Instead, he moved toward the bedroom, the place where the two of you had shared some of your most intimate moments. The bed was still made, the sheets untouched since the last time you had slept there. Satoru sat down on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing over the fabric as if touching it could somehow bring you back.

But nothing happened. You were gone, and he was still here, alone with his thoughts, with the guilt and regret that gnawed at him like a persistent ache.

Satoru lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the memories flooded his mind. He could still hear your laughter, still feel the warmth of your body next to his, still remember the way you had looked at him with such trust, such love.

And he had thrown it all away.

He closed his eyes, his chest tightening as the reality of it all settled in. He had lost you. And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure if he would ever get you back.

Healing wasn’t a straight path. It never was.

After months of settling into your new life in Kyoto, you had come to terms with the fact that healing would come in waves—some days you felt like you could breathe again, while on others, the weight of everything that had happened still sat heavy on your chest. But little by little, you were finding your way. You had started to remember what it felt like to simply be you, without the constant pull of Satoru’s shadow over your every thought.

The decision to move to Kyoto hadn’t come easily. In the weeks following your breakup with Satoru, you had felt lost, unsure of what direction to take. Your work at Tokyo High, once a source of pride and fulfillment, now felt suffocating. Every hallway, every classroom, every student you encountered was a reminder of the life you had shared with him.

It had been Nanami who suggested the move. You still remember the quiet conversation in his apartment, after you had shown up on his doorstep in tears. He hadn’t pushed you to talk about Satoru—he had simply listened, offering his steady presence as a source of comfort.

“I think you need space,” he had said one evening, as you both sat on his balcony overlooking the city. “A fresh start, somewhere away from... all of this.”

At first, the idea of leaving Tokyo seemed impossible. You had built your life there. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The memories of your time with Satoru were too intertwined with the city, with your work. If you ever wanted to heal, truly heal, you needed to get away from it all.

Nanami had been nothing but supportive of your decision. He had helped you with the transfer to Kyoto, quietly handling the logistics while you sorted through your emotions. When you finally made the move, he had been there for you—offering advice, checking in, and always reminding you that healing wasn’t something you needed to rush.

And so, you left. You traded the bustling streets of Tokyo for the quieter, more serene atmosphere of Kyoto. The change was jarring at first, but over time, it became exactly what you needed.

The routine of teaching your students had become an anchor, grounding you in a new rhythm. Mornings were filled with classes and sparring sessions, afternoons with one-on-one training, and evenings spent quietly grading papers or catching up with your colleagues. The simplicity of the schedule gave you something steady to hold on to. The quiet, the focus, the purpose—it was all helping you find your balance again.

But healing wasn’t just about work.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense training session with your students, you found yourself in the gardens, sipping on a cup of tea as the soft sounds of nature filled the air. The warmth of the cup in your hands grounded you, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t feel the constant pull of sorrow tugging at your heart.

You were okay. Maybe not great, maybe not fully healed, but okay.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. Glancing down, you saw Megumi’s name on the screen, and a small smile tugged at your lips. You had kept in touch with him, even though it hadn’t been easy at first. Megumi was more than just Satoru’s student—he was someone you had watched grow up, someone you cared for deeply.

He had been the only one from that part of your life you couldn’t quite leave behind.

You opened the message, his usual briefness apparent.

Megumi:
How are the Kyoto students treating you? They giving you trouble?

You chuckled softly, your fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You:
Nothing I can’t handle. They’re a bit cocky, though. I wonder where they got that from…

It didn’t take long for his reply.

Megumi:
They’ll learn. Eventually.

His straightforward responses were always a comfort to you. He didn’t pry, didn’t push. He simply checked in with quiet consistency, a tether to your old life without the weight of everything that had happened.

As you pocketed your phone, you felt the familiar pang of nostalgia. Megumi had grown up so much since the days when you and Satoru had first taken him in. He was a powerful sorcerer now, a leader in his own right, but he was still the same Megumi—the same boy who had looked up to you, even if he didn’t show it.

You stood from your spot in the garden, ready to head back to your quarters when your phone buzzed again. This time, Megumi’s message felt different.

Megumi:
Are you coming to Tokyo soon?

Your fingers hovered over the screen as your heart skipped a beat. The question felt innocent enough, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. Tokyo wasn’t just a city—it was the place you had left behind. The place where everything had fallen apart.

The thought of going back stirred something deep inside you. What if you ran into Satoru? What if he hadn’t changed? What if you hadn’t?

But then again, Megumi was family. You owed it to him to visit, even if it meant confronting old ghosts.

With a deep breath, you typed out your reply.

You:
I was thinking about it. Maybe soon. Do you need something?

The reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting for your answer.

Megumi:
Just wondering. It’d be good to see you again.

You stared at the message for a moment longer than necessary, the familiar ache of nostalgia settling over you like a blanket. Megumi had grown so much since you first met him—he wasn’t the lost kid anymore. But still, there was something in his message that reminded you of how close the two of you had been.

Pocketing your phone, you turned your attention back to the students, now finishing up their sparring for the day. You called them over to give some final instructions, falling easily into your role as their teacher. But even as you spoke, your mind drifted back to Tokyo, to everything you had left behind.

Could you face it again? Could you face him again?

You didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But maybe, just maybe, you were ready to find out.

That evening, as the sun set over the Kyoto campus, casting the courtyard in shades of orange and gold, you sat on a bench, sipping tea and watching the last of the students head back to their quarters. The peaceful atmosphere gave you space to breathe, to reflect on how far you had come.

You realized, in that moment, that you were okay. Not fully healed, not free of all the hurt, but okay. You had begun to rebuild yourself, brick by brick, piece by piece. The love you had for Satoru would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. You were learning to live with the memories without letting them control you.

As you stood up to leave, the weight of the past felt just a little bit lighter. And for the first time in months, you felt hope.

The steady hum of Kyoto had become a comforting backdrop to your new routine, and part of that routine now included brunch every Saturday with Utahime at a small café tucked away on a quiet street. It had quickly become a favorite spot for the both of you—a place where the staff knew your order before you even sat down, and the atmosphere was warm and inviting. It wasn’t long after you started teaching at Kyoto that you and Utahime had struck up a close friendship. You’d bonded over your shared work, but as the weeks passed, it had become much more than that.

Utahime, in many ways, had been a godsend. She never pried too much into your past but always seemed to know when you needed someone to talk to. Saturdays with her had become something you looked forward to—an escape from the stresses of work and a reminder that you weren’t alone.

On this particular morning, the café was buzzing softly with quiet conversations, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filling the air as you both settled into your usual booth by the window.

“I swear,” Utahime began, setting her cup of tea down with a small clink, “if I have to listen to another lecture about the importance of paperwork, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your own coffee. “Doesn’t sound like you’ve been having the most exciting week.”

Utahime rolled her eyes dramatically. “You have no idea. Between the administrative meetings and dealing with these rowdy students, I’m starting to wonder if I should just run away and live as a hermit somewhere in the mountains.”

You grinned. “I think the students might miss you, though. Who else would keep them in line?”

“Please,” she scoffed, leaning back in her seat, “they’d throw a party the moment I disappeared.”

You shook your head, still smiling. There was a certain ease between you and Utahime that had developed quickly—a kind of unspoken understanding. She was someone who didn’t need to fill every silence with words, but when she did speak, it was always direct and honest, sometimes brutally so.

The two of you spent the next few minutes talking about work, the usual gossip about your students, and the occasional amusing story from the week. But eventually, the conversation shifted to something more personal.

“So,” Utahime said, casually picking at her scone, “how have you been doing?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. Utahime rarely asked directly about your personal life, though she had been subtly supportive from the beginning.

“I’m... doing better,” you said, trying to find the right words. “It’s not easy, but it’s getting easier.”

Utahime nodded, watching you closely. “Good. You deserve that.” She paused, then added, “I noticed you’ve been spending more time outside, taking walks and all that. That’s new for you.”

You smiled, surprised she had picked up on that. “Yeah, I guess I needed something to help clear my head. The gardens here are nice.”

She studied you for a moment, her expression softening. “I know I don’t need to say it, but... it’s okay to take your time, you know. Healing isn’t a race.”

You looked down at your coffee, feeling the weight of her words. “I know. Some days are better than others. But I think... I’m learning to be okay with that.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “Because you don’t need to rush through this. And if anyone makes you feel like you do, well... they’re an idiot.”

There was a brief pause in the conversation, a comfortable lull before Utahime spoke again, her tone shifting just slightly. “And speaking of idiots…”

You looked up, and there it was—the topic you had both been skirting around.

Satoru.

Utahime didn’t have to say his name. The look on her face said it all. She had never hidden her distaste for Gojo, and it was something you had always found amusing, even back when you were with him.

“I take it you’re still not a fan?” you said, half-smiling, though there was a trace of uncertainty in your voice.

Utahime snorted. “Fan? Please. I don’t even know how you put up with him for as long as you did.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s... complicated.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Arrogant. Self-absorbed. Absolutely insufferable. The list goes on.”

“Utahime,” you said with a small laugh, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something at her words. She wasn’t wrong about Satoru’s faults—he had plenty—but you had seen parts of him that others hadn’t. Even so, you knew better than to defend him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Utahime continued, leaning forward slightly, her voice lowering conspiratorially, “I know he’s talented—brilliant, even—but that doesn’t give him the right to act like the world revolves around him.”

You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “He does have a bit of a... presence.”

“A bit?” she raised an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look. “He acts like he owns every room he walks into. And don’t get me started on that blindfold. Who does he think he is, anyway?”

You laughed again, shaking your head at her exasperation. “Yeah, I don’t think the blindfold is going anywhere.”

Utahime’s expression softened slightly, and after a moment, she leaned back in her chair, giving you a more thoughtful look. “Honestly, I’m just glad you’re away from all that. You deserve better than... whatever that was.”

There was a pause, and you nodded slowly. “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

It was strange, talking about Satoru like this—so casually, as if he were just another topic of conversation. But it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe it was the distance, or maybe it was because you were finally starting to let go. Either way, sitting here with Utahime, you realized something important.

You were moving on.

You smiled, taking another sip of your coffee. “Thanks, Utahime.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it. But if he ever shows up around here, I’ll personally make sure he regrets it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Utahime’s words lingered in your mind for the rest of the week, a quiet echo that grew louder as the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event drew near. You had laughed it off at the time, but now, as the day approached, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her comment had been more than just a joke.

If he ever shows up around here, I’ll personally make sure he regrets it.

Of course, Gojo would be there. How could he not be? He was still a prominent figure at Tokyo High, still the man who commanded attention wherever he went. But the thought of seeing him again, after months of silence, after all the distance you had worked so hard to create, filled you with a quiet dread.

You had done so much to heal, to move forward, and now it felt like the past was rushing back at you, relentless and unavoidable.

The morning of the event came sooner than you would have liked. The courtyard at Kyoto High buzzed with activity as students from both schools arrived, ready to compete and test their skills. You kept your focus on your own students, guiding them through warm-ups and offering last-minute advice, all while trying to ignore the nervous energy that coiled in your stomach.

But you felt it—the inevitable moment approaching.

And soon enough, your questions were answered.

Tokyo High arrived with their usual flair. The students you had once known so well—Itadori, Nobara, Megumi—stepped out of the bus, full of excitement and energy. They greeted you warmly, their familiar smiles a comfort amidst the swirl of emotions. But it wasn’t them that set your heart racing.

It was him.

Gojo Satoru.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his ever-present blindfold in place, exuding that same casual arrogance you remembered so well. His presence alone seemed to command the entire courtyard, drawing eyes and quieting conversations. And despite the months that had passed, the distance you had placed between the two of you, seeing him now brought everything rushing back.

For a brief moment, your eyes met his.

The air between you shifted.

It wasn’t awkwardness exactly, but something heavier—something unresolved. The weight of your shared history, the things left unsaid. It hung between you like an invisible thread, pulling taut with every second that passed.

Gojo’s expression was as unreadable as ever, though you caught a flicker of something—surprise, maybe even something softer—as he registered your presence. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar, confident facade.

You quickly looked away, turning your attention back to your students. You had work to do. You couldn’t let yourself be distracted by the past, not when you had come so far in putting it behind you.

“(Y/N)-sensei,” one of your students called out, snapping you back to reality. “Are we ready to start?”

You cleared your throat, pushing down the nervous energy that had crept up on you. “Yes, let’s get started.”

The day continued in a blur of sparring matches and drills, your focus kept mostly on your students. But no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, you could feel his eyes on you from across the field. Whenever you passed by the Tokyo High group, there was a pull—an invisible force that made you acutely aware of his presence.

It was maddening, and yet, a part of you had expected it. You had known that seeing Satoru again wouldn’t be easy. What you hadn’t anticipated was how much it would stir inside of you.

By midday, the event was in full swing, and you found yourself needing a break. Excusing yourself from the training grounds, you made your way toward one of the quieter gardens on the edge of the campus, hoping to gather your thoughts and calm the swirling emotions that had been building all morning.

But you weren’t alone for long.

“(Y/N).”

His voice—smooth, familiar—stopped you in your tracks. You had been expecting this moment, and yet, hearing him speak your name sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned slowly, meeting Gojo’s gaze as he approached. He was casual, as always, with that faint smile that always seemed to hover just at the edge of his lips. But there was something different about him now, something in the way he moved, in the way he looked at you.

“Gojo,” you greeted, keeping your voice even, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

For a brief moment, you saw it—something that flickered across his expression when you called him by his last name. Hurt, maybe. Or something close to it. But he recovered quickly, the playful smirk returning to his face.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” he said, stopping a few feet away from you.

“I teach here now,” you replied, your tone clipped, trying to keep the conversation professional.

“I know,” he said, his voice softer than before. “It’s just... been a while.”

You swallowed, not sure how to respond. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up—whatever it was between you. You had thought you could keep things surface level, keep the conversation polite and distant. But the way he was looking at you now made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ve been busy,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled softly. “Kyoto must keep you on your toes.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say more.

The silence between you stretched, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid over the months. You could feel it, the same pull that had always existed between you and Satoru. The same unresolved energy that had lingered long after you had left.

“(Y/N)...” he began, his voice low, but before he could continue, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted.

You turned to see Utahime making her way toward you, her expression unreadable as her eyes flicked between you and Gojo.

“Ah, Utahime,” Gojo greeted with his usual playful tone. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Utahime’s eyes narrowed, her distaste for him barely concealed. “I’m sure it is,” she replied dryly, stepping closer to you.

Gojo smirked, clearly amused by her reaction, but you could sense the underlying tension between them. Utahime had never hidden her dislike for Satoru, and the two of them being in the same space always felt like a powder keg waiting to go off.

“I was just catching up with (Y/N),” Gojo said, his tone casual but his eyes still lingering on you.

“Well, she’s busy,” Utahime snapped, crossing her arms. “So unless you’re here for something important...”

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get hostile.” He glanced at you once more, something unreadable in his expression. “We’ll catch up later.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with Utahime.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Utahime let out a frustrated sigh. “That man is insufferable.”

You smiled faintly, still processing everything. “Yeah, he is.”

Utahime gave you a sympathetic look. “Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll be fine.”

For the next day, the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event was in full swing, the courtyard alive with the sounds of sparring, laughter, and competitive banter. You had spent most of the day focused on your students, making sure they were prepared and keeping the inevitable thoughts of Satoru Gojo at bay. But the moment you saw Megumi standing near the edge of the training grounds, your heart softened.

It had been months since you last saw him in person, and despite the sporadic text messages and brief updates, you had missed him more than you realized. Megumi had always held a special place in your heart—not just as Satoru’s student, but as someone you had watched grow and come into his own. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but part of you still saw him as that quiet boy who had once looked up to you.

Without thinking, you made your way over to him, weaving through the crowd with a smile tugging at your lips. As you approached, he glanced in your direction, his face immediately shifting into its usual stoic mask. But you could see it—the subtle softening in his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

You stopped in front of him, and without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him in a brief but affectionate hug. It was spontaneous, something you hadn’t planned, but the need to show him how much you cared overtook any reservations.

Megumi stiffened for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the public display of affection, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he grumbled under his breath, his arms hovering awkwardly at his sides.

“Okay, okay. Enough with the hugging,” he muttered, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink.

You pulled back, laughing softly at his reaction. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I missed you.”

He grunted, avoiding your gaze, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch as if he was fighting back a smile. “Yeah, well... it’s been a while.”

There was a warmth between you, a quiet understanding that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. Megumi might grumble, he might act like he didn’t care for your affection, but deep down, you knew he appreciated it. And in his own way, he had missed you just as much.

“Things have been... different without you,” he admitted, his voice low, almost hesitant. “It’s not the same.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a mixture of sadness and affection swelling inside you. “I know, Megumi. I’ve missed being there too.”

He glanced at you then, his dark eyes holding yours for a moment longer than usual. There was something in his expression—a hint of vulnerability that he rarely showed. But before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and looked away, the moment passing as quickly as it had come.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” he said, his tone returning to its usual neutral cadence.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice softer now. “I’m glad you are too.”

As you stood there, exchanging quiet words with Megumi, you were unaware of the eyes that were watching from across the courtyard.

Gojo.

He stood a short distance away, his posture relaxed, but his gaze locked on the two of you. There was no trace of his usual carefree demeanor—no playful smirk or teasing remarks. Instead, his expression was unreadable, his eyes hidden behind the familiar blindfold, but the weight of his attention was palpable.

From afar, Gojo watched the way you interacted with Megumi, the affection in your touch, the warmth in your voice. He could feel something inside him stir—something heavy and bittersweet. It was a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to confront since the day you walked away.

Longing.

He had always been good at masking his emotions, at hiding behind his playful facade. But now, standing there, watching you with Megumi, he couldn’t shake the feeling of what he had lost. You had moved on, or at least, you were trying to. And though he knew it was what you deserved—space, time to heal—he couldn’t stop the ache in his chest.

It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation for him. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, always in control, always one step ahead. But when it came to you, he had always felt... different. And now, as he watched from afar, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake by letting you go.

You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. Your focus was on Megumi, on the bond you shared, and for a brief moment, you felt at peace. There was no awkwardness, no lingering pain—just the comfort of being with someone who cared for you, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“I should get back to my students,” you said after a while, glancing toward the training grounds. “But it was really good to see you, Megumi.”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. You too.”

With a final smile, you turned to walk away, leaving Megumi standing there, his usual stoic expression back in place. But as you made your way across the courtyard, you felt a shift in the air—an awareness that hadn’t been there before.

You glanced over your shoulder, and for the briefest moment, your eyes met Gojo’s from across the distance.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes—or what you could sense behind the blindfold—was enough to send a ripple of emotions through you. Longing, regret, something unspoken.

But you quickly turned away, pushing the feelings down. This wasn’t the time. Not now.

You had come so far, and you weren’t ready to face that yet.

The familiar hum of Tokyo surrounded you as you stepped off the train, the weight of the city pressing down like a bittersweet memory. It had been months since you left, and now, standing on the bustling platform, the world around you felt both comforting and foreign. You had come a long way since your decision to leave, and yet, Tokyo still held a part of you.

This wasn’t a social call. It wasn’t about facing Satoru again or confronting old ghosts. This was about visiting Nanami—a man who had been your rock through some of the hardest times. After the event in Kyoto, you needed his steady presence more than ever, and he had made it clear you were always welcome.

You made your way through the busy streets, your pace brisk as you navigated the familiar pathways. Though the city had always been alive with energy, today it felt more like a background hum. You weren’t here for Tokyo’s allure. You were here for one person.

Nanami’s apartment was tucked away in a quieter part of town, and as you approached, a sense of calm washed over you. His place had always been a refuge for you, a space where the noise of life could be momentarily shut out. And after everything that had happened, it was exactly what you needed.

You knocked on the door and waited, your hands fidgeting slightly. The door opened after a moment, revealing Nanami in his usual no-nonsense attire, his expression as neutral as ever. But there was something warm in his eyes—a quiet understanding that didn’t need to be voiced.

“(Y/N),” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in. “You made it.”

You offered him a small smile as you stepped into the apartment. “Thanks for having me on such short notice.”

Nanami shrugged, closing the door behind you. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

The apartment was just as you remembered—neat, organized, and bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon light. It felt safe, like a sanctuary where the chaos of the outside world couldn’t reach.

Nanami led you to the living room, where he had already prepared tea. You sat down on the familiar couch, feeling the tension in your body slowly begin to unwind.

“So,” Nanami began, taking a seat across from you. “How was the event?”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head. “It was... exhausting.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I saw him,” you admitted quietly. “Satoru.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “How did it go?”

You hesitated, not sure how to describe the swirl of emotions that had followed you since seeing Gojo again. “It was strange. We didn’t talk much, but... it was enough to bring everything back.”

Nanami nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea. He didn’t rush you, didn’t pry. He simply waited, allowing you to find your own words.

“I’ve come so far since I left,” you continued, your voice softer now. “But seeing him... I don’t know. It stirred things up that I wasn’t ready to face.”

Nanami set his cup down, his gaze steady. “That’s normal. Healing isn’t a straight path, and seeing him was bound to affect you. But that doesn’t mean you’ve undone your progress.”

You looked down at your hands, his words sinking in. “I know. It’s just... hard. I thought I was ready, but now I’m not so sure.”

Nanami leaned forward slightly, his tone calm and measured. “It’s okay to not be ready. It’s okay to take your time. You don’t have to rush anything. What matters is that you’re doing what’s best for you.”

His words brought a sense of relief that you hadn’t realized you were searching for. Nanami had always had a way of cutting through the noise, reminding you of what was important without ever making you feel pressured.

“I guess I just needed to hear that,” you admitted, offering him a grateful smile.

He nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You’ve come a long way, (Y/N). Don’t forget that.”

The warm light in Nanami’s apartment felt comforting, almost like a soft blanket draped over you as the two of you continued to talk. The weight of the day was beginning to lift, and the peaceful atmosphere of Nanami’s home made it easy to forget, if only for a little while, about everything that had been stirring in your mind.

Nanami had always been a good listener—patient, thoughtful, and never pushing you beyond what you were ready to share. As you sipped on your tea, the conversation drifted naturally from topic to topic. It felt good to talk about your life in Kyoto, the small victories you’d found in your routine, and how reconnecting with old friends like Megumi was helping you move forward.

But as the evening wore on, there was a slight shift in the air—something unsaid lingering between the two of you. Nanami, ever the calm and collected presence, seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, his expression more contemplative than usual.

You noticed the subtle change, the way he hesitated before speaking again. “Nanami?”

He glanced at you, his brow furrowed slightly. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t sure if he should say what was on his mind. But then, with a quiet sigh, he set his cup down and met your gaze.

“There’s something I think you should know,” he began, his voice measured, careful.

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, sensing where this conversation was headed.

“It’s about Gojo,” Nanami continued, his tone steady but soft, as if weighing each word before saying it. “He... hasn’t been the same since you left.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond at first. Gojo? Not the same? It wasn’t a concept you could easily wrap your mind around. Satoru Gojo—the man who always seemed so unshakable, so full of life and energy, no matter the circumstances. The idea that he could be affected by your absence in any meaningful way felt... surreal.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear this,” Nanami said, his voice quiet but sincere. “But it’s the truth. He tries to hide it, of course. He’s still Gojo, still doing what he does best—teaching, fighting, pretending like nothing’s wrong. But something’s off.”

You stared at him, processing the weight of his words. “What do you mean by ‘off’?”

Nanami sighed, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “He’s more reckless. Less focused. Even his students have noticed. He won’t admit it, but he’s distracted.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your cup. “And you think... it’s because of me?”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” Nanami said gently. “But I do think you leaving affected him more than he’s willing to let on.”

You exhaled slowly, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. You had walked away from Satoru because it was the right thing to do—for both of you. You had needed space, distance, to heal from the pain of your relationship falling apart. And yet, hearing that your absence had left such an impact on him stirred something deep inside you—something you weren’t sure how to deal with.

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Nanami continued, his voice low. “He never does. But I’ve seen it. The way he looks when he thinks no one’s watching. He’s hurting too.”

The admission struck a chord in you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. It was easier to imagine that Satoru had moved on—that he had gone back to his usual life, unaffected by your absence. But now, the reality was crashing down on you, and it was harder to push away.

Nanami, seeing the conflict in your eyes, offered you a soft, understanding look. “I’m not telling you this to make things harder for you. I just thought you should know.”

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Nanami. I... I didn’t know.”

There was a long pause, the quiet of the apartment settling around the two of you. You could feel the weight of Nanami’s words lingering in the air, the knowledge that Satoru wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed.

“Maybe,” Nanami added after a moment, “it’s something you both needed to go through. I can’t say what’s best for you, but it’s clear that neither of you has fully moved on.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Neither you nor Gojo had truly let go, and perhaps, that was why this entire situation felt so unresolved.

Nanami watched you quietly, giving you the space to process everything. His calm presence was exactly what you needed in that moment, a steady hand in the middle of the storm that seemed to be brewing inside of you.

“Take your time,” he said softly. “There’s no rush.”

You looked at him, grateful for his understanding. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to know,” Nanami replied. “Not yet. But when you’re ready, you’ll figure it out.”

The conversation hung in the air, the weight of unspoken emotions settling over the room. You had come to Tokyo seeking comfort and guidance, and while Nanami’s words had brought you both, they had also opened the door to a new wave of uncertainty. 

As the evening settled in, you remained at Nanami’s, your mind still processing the heavy conversation. His words lingered, echoing in your thoughts: Gojo hasn’t been the same. You had spent months trying to distance yourself from him, from everything you once had, and hearing that he wasn’t unaffected stirred a whirlwind of emotions you weren’t ready to face.

Nanami was in the kitchen now, quietly preparing something while giving you the space you needed. The comforting hum of the apartment wrapped around you, offering a brief moment of solace. But just as you were beginning to breathe through the weight of everything, the vibration of your phone shattered the silence.

You glanced down at the screen, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw the name.

Oh, god. Speaking of the devil.

For a second, you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The sight of his name was enough to make your hands tremble ever so slightly. You hadn’t heard from him directly since... since you left. The distance between you had been deliberate, necessary, and now here he was, breaking the fragile barrier you had built.

You unlocked the phone, your breath catching as you opened the message.

Gojo:
We need to talk.

The words were simple. Short. But they held the weight of everything you had been avoiding. Your heart raced, an uncomfortable mix of anticipation, anxiety, and something else—something you couldn’t quite name.

Talk? Now? After all this time?

Your thumb hovered over the screen, torn between shutting off the phone and throwing it across the room or responding. A part of you had expected this moment to come at some point, but you had convinced yourself it wouldn’t happen this soon.

You read the text again, trying to decipher the tone behind his words. Was it urgent? Casual? Were you supposed to act like everything was fine, like nothing had changed?

No. You couldn’t do that.

But the longer you stared at the message, the more conflicted you became. There was a part of you that wanted to ignore it, to pretend that he hadn’t reached out at all. You had come so far, worked so hard to distance yourself from him, from the pain that came with remembering what you once had. And yet... the thought of ignoring him didn’t sit right either.

You felt a pressure in your chest, the old wound you thought had begun to heal reopening slightly.

What does he want? Why now?

You didn’t want to talk to him. Not yet. You weren’t ready for that confrontation. But something in the pit of your stomach told you that this conversation was inevitable.

Reluctantly, you typed out a response.

You:
When?

You hit send before you could overthink it, your pulse quickening as you waited for a reply. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer right away, that he would take his time, give you a moment to collect yourself. But the vibration of your phone came almost immediately.

Gojo:
Whenever you’re ready. I’ll wait.

The words hung on the screen, and suddenly, you were overwhelmed by everything they implied. He was leaving it up to you—when and where. It felt like a heavy decision to make, one you weren’t sure you could handle right now.

You set your phone down on the table, leaning back in the chair and running your hands through your hair. A part of you wanted to talk to Nanami about it, to get his advice. But another part of you wasn’t ready to say it out loud. This was something you had to process on your own.

Your mind raced, the thought of seeing Gojo again stirring emotions you had worked so hard to suppress. The idea of facing him, of hearing his voice, made your chest tighten with anxiety. You had spent months trying to move on, and now here he was, pulling you back in with just a few words.

You didn’t know what he wanted to talk about. Maybe he just wanted closure. Maybe he wanted to clear the air. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Whatever it was, you couldn’t avoid it forever.

Your phone still sat on the table, the weight of Gojo’s words hanging in the air like an invisible presence. He wanted to talk. And as much as you had tried to convince yourself that you weren’t ready, a quiet voice inside you whispered that maybe it was time.

You picked up your phone, hesitating for a moment before typing out a response.

You:
Let’s meet tonight.

You hit send before you could change your mind. There was no point in dragging it out, no point in letting the dread build any further. If this conversation was inevitable, you might as well get it over with now.

The reply came almost instantly.

Gojo:
Where?

You thought for a moment, then quickly typed out the name of a small, out-of-the-way café. Somewhere quiet, somewhere where you wouldn’t be disturbed.

You:
8 PM. The café on 6th Street.

Gojo’s response was just as brief.

Gojo:
I’ll be there.

You placed the phone back down, staring at it for a moment longer. The nerves that had been simmering in the background now bubbled up to the surface, and you felt your pulse quicken again.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way into the kitchen, where Nanami was busy preparing dinner. The comforting scent of food filled the space, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the evening.

Nanami glanced over at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “Everything okay?”

You offered a small, apologetic smile. “I... I have to go.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting down the knife he had been using. “Gojo?”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the decision settle over you. “He texted. He wants to meet. I... I said yes.”

Nanami’s expression remained neutral, but you could see the understanding in his eyes. He didn’t press for details, didn’t ask if you were sure. Instead, he simply nodded, his voice steady. “Do what you need to do. Dinner can wait.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. You had been looking forward to this evening with Nanami, but the thought of putting off the conversation with Gojo for another day felt unbearable. “I won’t be staying for dinner.”

Nanami waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Just take care of yourself.”

You gave him a grateful smile, appreciating his support more than you could express. “I will.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, the weight of what was about to happen pressed heavily on your shoulders. Tonight, you would face Gojo, and whatever came after that... you weren’t sure.

But for now, you had made your choice.

---

Satoru Gojo stood on the balcony of his apartment, staring out at the cityscape of Tokyo, though his eyes weren’t really focused on anything. The sun had begun to set, casting a soft orange glow over the buildings, but it did nothing to lighten the weight that had settled heavily in his chest.

It had been months since you walked out of his life—months since the silence between you had become unbearable. At first, he had convinced himself that he was fine. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. Untouchable, unshakable. Nothing could get to him, least of all a failed relationship.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

He hadn’t been fine. Not for a long time. And every day since you left had only made that more painfully clear.

Gojo took a slow breath, leaning his forearms on the balcony railing, his usual carefree demeanor nowhere to be found. He had tried to bury himself in his work, to distract himself with his students and missions. But no matter how many curses he exorcised, no matter how much he pushed himself, you were still there—in the back of his mind, in the quiet moments when everything slowed down. You haunted him.

He didn’t talk about it. Not to anyone. That wasn’t his style. Instead, he had kept up his usual facade—teasing, joking, acting like everything was fine. But deep down, a storm had been brewing, growing stronger with every passing day. The thought of you, of the empty space you had left behind, gnawed at him relentlessly.

Tonight, though, was different.

Tonight, he had finally reached a breaking point.

His phone sat on the table behind him, untouched for the last hour. Gojo hadn’t moved since sending you that message—We need to talk. He had typed it out on impulse, his fingers moving before his brain could second-guess the decision. And now, the anxiety of waiting for your reply twisted in his gut in a way that nothing else could.

He wasn’t used to this feeling—this vulnerability that came with putting himself out there. It was a strange sensation for someone like him. He was always the one in control, always the one calling the shots. But with you... it was different. He couldn’t control this. He couldn’t fix what had gone wrong between you with just a few clever words or a charming smile.

The truth was, Gojo didn’t know how to make things right. He had messed up. He knew that now. Maybe he had known it all along. But it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized just how deeply he had let you slip through his fingers.

His phone buzzed on the table, jolting him from his thoughts. For a split second, he hesitated, the weight of the moment hanging heavily in the air. Then, with a quick breath, he grabbed the phone, his pulse quickening as he opened your message.

You:
Let’s meet tonight.

A wave of relief crashed over him, but it wasn’t the kind of relief that brought peace. It was the kind that made his heart race faster, the kind that reminded him how much was at stake. You had agreed. You were willing to talk.

But what did that mean? Did it mean you were ready to forgive him? Or was this just going to be closure—an end to whatever was left between you?

Gojo set the phone down and ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had spent so much time imagining what he would say to you if he ever got the chance. But now that it was real, now that the moment was finally here, all those rehearsed words seemed to slip away.

He wasn’t prepared for this.

And yet, he couldn’t back out now.

His phone buzzed again, another message from you with the details—where to meet, what time. Gojo felt his heart clench as he read the text. This wasn’t just some casual meetup. It wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

He wanted to see you. Needed to see you. But the fear of what might happen—the fear of losing you for good—was a weight that settled deep in his chest.

As he pocketed his phone and turned back to the city, Gojo tried to steady his breathing, his thoughts running wild. You were going to talk. He didn’t know if it would fix anything, but it was a start. It was the first real step he had taken since you left.

I’ll be there, he had typed back quickly, the finality of it sinking in.

The thought of seeing you again sent a mixture of emotions swirling inside him. There was hope—faint, but still alive. But there was also fear. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, wasn’t used to the idea that something might be out of his control. But this... this was different.

As Gojo stood there, watching the sky turn darker, he let out a long breath. He didn’t know what tonight would bring, but one thing was certain.

You still had a hold on him, and he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Moving to the general areas of his apartment, Gojo paced his living room, his mind a swirling mess of thoughts and emotions that refused to settle. The seconds ticked by slowly, each one drawing him closer to the moment he would see you again, and yet, the minutes felt like hours. He had already read through your texts a dozen times, as if searching for something he might have missed—some clue, some hidden meaning in your words. But there was nothing. Just the cold, hard reality that after months of silence, you were willing to talk.

But was it too late?

That question gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He had no idea what your life was like now, how much had changed since you left. You had moved on—at least, that’s what he had to assume. How could you not? Time had passed, and with it, the space between you had grown wider, more insurmountable.

The truth was, Gojo knew so little about your life now. What he did know, he had pieced together from snippets he had seen on Utahime’s social media, not that he would ever admit to checking. But the updates were vague, blurry glimpses of you laughing with your new colleagues, sitting with friends, living your life. And the sight of you smiling—so carefree, so distant from him—made something dark twist inside him.

You were fine without him. You were doing okay. But the more he thought about it, the more the edges of that calm began to fray.

Had you moved on completely?

The thought had crossed his mind before, but now, as the minutes crept closer to your meeting, it felt like a fresh wound. He had no idea if you were seeing someone new, if someone else had come into your life and filled the space that he had left behind. The idea of you being with someone else, sharing the same easy smiles and soft laughter that had once been meant for him, sent a flash of hot jealousy coursing through him.

He clenched his fists at the thought, his jaw tightening. It wasn’t like him to be so irrational, so overcome with emotion. But just the image of you moving on, falling for someone new, was enough to set his blood boiling. You were supposed to be his. Even now, after everything, a part of him couldn’t let that go.

The idea of another man—someone who didn’t know you the way he did, someone who hadn’t been through the highs and lows of your relationship—touching you, laughing with you, seeing the side of you that had once been his alone... It made him see red.

Gojo had never been the jealous type. He was confident, maybe even cocky, and he had always assumed that whatever happened, he could handle it. But now, the fear of losing you completely—to someone else—was a crushing weight. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know if it was true. He didn’t know anything about your life anymore.

The distance between you had become more than just physical. It was emotional, too. You were a stranger to him now, and that realization hit him harder than he had expected.

Gojo’s hands trembled slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm the storm inside. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this feeling, this unfamiliar sensation of helplessness. He could exorcise curses with ease, protect the world from unimaginable dangers, but this—this was something else entirely. This was personal.

He didn’t know if he was ready to hear the truth. What if you had moved on? What if tonight wasn’t about reconciliation, but about closure? What if you were going to tell him that there was no going back, that you had found someone else who made you happy in a way that he never could?

The thought sent a fresh wave of jealousy through him, but beneath it all was something more painful. Fear. The fear that he had lost you for good. That he had messed up so badly that there was no fixing it.

Gojo shook his head, running a hand through his hair as if that would clear the chaos from his mind. He couldn’t let himself spiral. Not now. Not when the chance to talk to you was finally here. But even as he tried to steady himself, the jealousy, the longing, the regret—they all clung to him like a second skin, refusing to let go.

He wasn’t used to feeling this out of control. But with you, he had always been different.

Taking a deep breath, Gojo tried to focus on what he could control. He would meet you tonight. He would talk to you, see where you stood, and go from there. But the thought of you moving on, the possibility of you finding happiness with someone else—it was a fear he couldn’t quite shake.

He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

The rumble of the train beneath your feet did nothing to calm the rising anxiety that sat like a weight in your chest. Each passing stop brought you closer to the moment you had been dreading for months—facing Gojo, after everything, after all the silence and distance. You clutched your phone tightly in your hand, your eyes flickering to the message you had sent him.

Let’s meet tonight.

You had agreed to this, knowing it was inevitable, but now that it was happening, the reality of it felt like an insurmountable force pressing down on you. The train’s movement was steady, but your heart was anything but. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—nervousness, apprehension, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You weren’t sure what you would say. You weren’t even sure if you were ready to face him, to hear whatever it was he wanted to tell you.

Your stomach twisted as you stared out the window, watching the city blur by. Every minute felt like an eternity, and the thought of sitting across from Gojo again after all these months was overwhelming. You had come so far, created distance not just physically but emotionally, too. And now, all of that progress felt like it could come undone in a single moment.

What would you say when you saw him? Would he be the same? Would he even care?

The anxiety gnawed at you, and you tried to steady your breathing, gripping the edge of the seat as the train slowed to a stop. Only two more stops until the café. Two stops before you would be face to face with him again.

I can do this, you told yourself, though the tightness in your chest suggested otherwise.

When the train finally came to a halt at your stop, you felt your heart race even faster. The doors slid open, and you stepped onto the platform, the cool night air rushing to greet you. The walk to the café was short, but every step felt heavier than the last. Your mind was racing, trying to anticipate what would happen next, what Gojo would say, how this conversation would unfold. But no matter how much you tried to prepare yourself, the uncertainty of it all gnawed at your nerves.

By the time you reached the café, your hands were trembling slightly. The soft glow from inside cast a warm, inviting light onto the street, but to you, it felt like the entrance to something you weren’t ready to face. You stood outside for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You could see through the windows—the tables, the people quietly chatting, and in the back corner, sitting alone, was him.

Gojo Satoru.

His figure was unmistakable, even from where you stood. His back was to you, his white hair catching the light, and his posture was relaxed, almost casual. But there was something about the way he sat there, alone, that sent a fresh wave of anxiety washing over you.

You took a deep breath, your hand hovering over the door. Just go in. It’s just a conversation. But even that simple reassurance did little to calm the storm brewing inside you.

Finally, you pushed the door open, the soft chime of the bell ringing in your ears as you stepped inside. The warmth of the café contrasted sharply with the cold outside, but it did nothing to ease the tension that had coiled tightly in your chest. You made your way toward him, each step feeling like it stretched on forever.

Gojo turned slightly as you approached, his blindfold still in place, but even with that barrier between you, you could feel his gaze. He stood when you reached the table, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips—polite, maybe even a little unsure, but familiar.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, carrying none of the usual teasing bravado.

You nodded, your throat dry. “Hey.”

There was an awkward pause as the two of you stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Finally, Gojo gestured to the seat across from him, and you sat down, your hands folded tightly in your lap.

The café seemed louder than it should have been—the hum of conversation and the clinking of cups a stark contrast to the silence that stretched between you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, both of you caught in your own thoughts.

Gojo leaned back slightly in his chair, his hands resting on the table. “Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else. Something deeper.

You forced a small smile, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “I figured it was time.”

Another pause. The silence felt suffocating.

You stared down at your hands, unsure of how to begin. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many emotions swirling inside you, but none of the words seemed right. What were you even supposed to say to someone who had once been your everything, but now felt like a stranger?

Gojo seemed to sense your hesitation. He shifted slightly, his expression unreadable behind the blindfold, but his voice was softer when he spoke again. “I don’t really know how to start this either.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. “Why now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a quiet breath, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table. “Because I couldn’t keep pretending it was fine anymore.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a mix of emotions rushing through you—relief, anger, confusion. “And you’ve been pretending this whole time?”

He looked down for a moment, his expression tightening just a fraction. “I thought I could move on. I thought we both could.”

The words hit harder than you expected. There it was—acknowledgment of the distance, the silence, the break between you. The tension, long buried beneath layers of unresolved feelings, had begun to surface.

You weren’t sure what you had expected from this conversation, but the reality of it was far more complicated. As the café buzzed around you, you could feel the threads of your past with Gojo starting to unravel, one by one.

This wasn’t going to be easy. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for what would come next.

In a good or a bad way, though you didn’t know. The question lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy, as you stared across the table at Gojo. The weight of his words—I miss you. Every day—settled into your chest like an anchor, pulling you deeper into the emotions you had tried so hard to bury.

You didn’t know what to feel. Part of you wanted to push him away, to remind him that missing someone didn’t erase the pain they caused, didn’t fix the damage that had already been done. But the other part of you—the part that still cared, despite everything—was struggling to hold onto the walls you had built around yourself.

Gojo’s hands rested on the table, fingers curled slightly, as if he was holding himself back from reaching out to you. The look on his face, though partially hidden behind his blindfold, was unmistakable. He was pleading with you, not with words, but with the weight of his presence alone. And it was that look, the desperation in his posture, that made something inside you crack.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I don’t know how to just... forget everything.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” Gojo said quickly, his voice soft but urgent. “I know I messed up. I know I wasn’t what you needed, and I hate myself for that every day. But...” He hesitated, his throat tight as he struggled to find the right words. “But I can’t lose you again. I can’t.”

His confession hung in the air between you, raw and painful, and you felt your heart lurch in response. The vulnerability he was showing—something you had rarely seen from him before—was enough to make the cracks in your armor widen.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped caring,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I left because I couldn’t keep waiting for you to choose me.”

Gojo winced, the words hitting him hard, but he didn’t look away. “I know. I know I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve... I should’ve been better. And I’m sorry—God, I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered, made your resolve falter. He wasn’t just apologizing. He was begging for you to stay, begging for a second chance, and it was more than you had ever expected from him.

“You say that now,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the table as you fought to keep yourself together. “But where were you when I needed you, Satoru? Where were you when I was breaking apart, waiting for you to see me?”

“I was a coward,” Gojo said, his voice filled with regret. “I was scared that if I let you in, I’d lose you. And in trying to protect myself, I pushed you away.”

You felt your heart crack open at his admission, the raw honesty of it stirring something deep inside you. You had wanted to hear those words for so long, but now that they were out in the open, you didn’t know how to process them.

“I need you,” Gojo continued, his voice quieter now, more fragile. “I didn’t realize how much until you were gone, but... I need you. I always have.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The walls you had built around yourself, the ones meant to protect you from the pain of losing him again, were crumbling with every word he spoke. You had spent so long convincing yourself that you were better off without him, that walking away had been the right choice. But now, faced with the man you had loved—the man who was laying his heart bare for you—you weren’t sure anymore.

“Satoru...” You shook your head, trying to pull yourself back, trying to remind yourself of all the reasons you had left in the first place. “I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I can trust you not to hurt me.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said quickly, his voice filled with urgency. “Whatever it takes to prove to you that I won’t make the same mistakes. I need you, (Y/N), and I’m not afraid to say it. I can’t let you go again.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the walls you had tried to hold up, eroding the last bit of resistance you had left. The way he was looking at you, the way he was pleading with you—there was no facade, no mask. It was just Satoru, the man you had fallen in love with, asking for another chance.

For a moment, the silence between you seemed to stretch, and then, with deliberate care, Gojo lifted his hands to his blindfold. He tugged it off, letting it fall onto the table, revealing his eyes—those piercing blue eyes that held so much emotion, so much of him. It was rare for him to let his guard down like this, but you knew what it meant. This was Gojo at his most sincere, stripped of the barriers he usually hid behind.

His gaze met yours, intense and vulnerable all at once. “I still love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if saying it any louder would break the delicate moment. “I never stopped.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words crashing over you. You hadn’t expected him to say it. You hadn’t expected to hear those words from him again, not like this, not after everything that had happened. And yet, here he was, looking at you with all the raw emotion you had once craved from him, the walls he had always hidden behind completely gone.

“Satoru...” You tried to form words, but nothing came. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, and you quickly wiped at your eyes, overwhelmed by everything—his confession, his sincerity, the love that still lingered between you despite everything.

“I don’t know if I deserve another chance,” Gojo said softly, his voice shaky, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I’m asking for one. I’m asking you to let me try. Because I still love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that.”

The sincerity in his gaze, the way he was sitting there with his heart completely open to you, broke something inside you. The walls you had built to protect yourself were crumbling faster than you could rebuild them, and for the first time since you walked out of his life, you felt the pull—the undeniable connection you had always shared with him—take hold once again.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I... I need time, Satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can just... forgive everything. Not yet.”

Gojo nodded, his expression soft, understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. For as long as it takes.”

And in that moment, as his piercing blue eyes held yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of your story after all.

The weight of everything sat between you and Gojo, heavy and unmoving. His confession—I still love you—had settled into your chest like a boulder, its impact reverberating through every fiber of your being. Your breath caught, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you processed his words. His eyes, now uncovered, bore into you with a sincerity that made it impossible to look away.

For a long moment, you said nothing. You couldn’t. The emotions swirled inside you—confusion, anger, relief, hope—all colliding in a way that left you feeling overwhelmed. You had wanted to hold on to your hurt, to the reasons you had left in the first place, but with Gojo sitting across from you like this, stripped of his usual defenses, pleading for a chance, it was harder than you thought to keep that resolve.

Slowly, you exhaled, the tension in your shoulders releasing as the fight left your body. You hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding on to it all—the anger, the disappointment, the hurt. But now, sitting across from him, you felt that grip begin to loosen, if only slightly.

“I... I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered, your voice soft, hesitant. The words came out shakily, as if you weren’t fully sure of them yourself. “I don’t know how to let you back in after everything.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his hands still resting on the table, unmoving, as though he was afraid to push too far, too soon. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said quietly, his voice gentle. “We’ll take it one step at a time. On your terms.”

You stared at him, the sincerity in his eyes unnerving in its intensity. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness outright, nor was he expecting things to go back to the way they had been. He was willing to wait, to take things as slowly as you needed. It was everything you had wanted to hear from him before—but now that he was offering it, you weren’t sure if you were ready.

“I’m not promising anything,” you said, your voice firmer this time, though still laced with uncertainty. “If I agree to let you back into my life, it has to be on my terms. And if at any point I feel like I can’t do this anymore... we’re done. No questions, no trying to change my mind.”

Gojo nodded immediately, his expression serious, understanding. “I get it. I won’t push you. If you decide it’s too much, then... I’ll accept that. But please, just give me a chance to show you that I’m serious.”

The hesitation lingered, wrapping around your heart like a vice. You had wanted this—this version of Satoru who was open, vulnerable, willing to do whatever it took to be the person you needed. But the fear still clung to you, reminding you of the pain, of the nights spent wondering why he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

“I don’t trust you,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It wasn’t meant to hurt him, but it was the truth. You needed him to know that things weren’t going to be easy. “I can’t just go back to the way things were. You... you hurt me, Satoru.”

Gojo flinched, his eyes briefly lowering as he absorbed your words. “I know,” he said softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I hurt you. And I can’t take that back. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it, if you let me.”

You took a deep breath, your chest tightening as you considered his words. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, but the scars he had left on your heart were still fresh, still raw. Could you really trust him again? Could you really let him back into your life, knowing that the risk of being hurt again was still there?

For a long moment, you sat in silence, the sound of the café fading into the background as you wrestled with your decision. Part of you wanted to walk away, to protect yourself from the possibility of more pain. But the other part of you—the part that still cared for him, that had never truly let go—wanted to give him the chance he was asking for.

“I’ll give you a chance,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s going to take time. I don’t know if I can trust you yet, and I’m not sure how this is going to work, but... I’m willing to try.”

Gojo’s breath hitched, relief washing over his face as he looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. “That’s all I’m asking for,” he said softly. “Just a chance.”

You nodded, still unsure but feeling the weight of the moment settle into your chest. “But remember... this is on my terms. If I feel like this isn’t working, if I start to feel like I’m getting hurt again, it’s over. No questions.”

“Understood,” Gojo said, his voice firm, resolute. “I won’t do anything to push you. We’ll take this as slowly as you need. And if you decide you can’t do this anymore... I’ll let you go.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in your body begin to ease, if only slightly. The decision to let him back in wasn’t an easy one, and there was still so much uncertainty about where things would go from here. But for now, you were willing to take that first step.

“I still need time,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with hesitancy. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know,” Gojo replied, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

And as you sat there, staring into the eyes of the man who had once been everything to you, you couldn’t help but feel that, despite the fear, despite the pain, maybe this was the start of something new—something fragile, but worth fighting for.

The transition was slow, a quiet unfolding of emotions as you allowed yourself to fully let Satoru in again. It wasn’t an overnight realization, nor was it some grand, sweeping moment of clarity. Instead, it was a series of small steps, each one bringing you closer to him, closer to the love that had never truly left.

It started with moments of softness, the kind where Satoru would hold you a little longer than usual, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he was afraid to let go. You would wake up in the middle of the night, tangled together in bed, and feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hand, a quiet reminder that he was there, present in a way he hadn’t been before.

Every kiss, every touch was imbued with tenderness, something deeper, more meaningful than the whirlwind passion you’d once shared. Now, there was something profound in how he touched you, as if he was memorizing every inch of you, every curve and line he had once taken for granted. His hands would ghost over your back, gentle yet grounding, and his lips would linger just a moment longer when he kissed you goodnight.

Satoru became more than just your partner; he became your safe space, the person you turned to when the world felt overwhelming. And he never faltered. He made time for you in ways he hadn’t before—canceling missions, rearranging his schedule, just to make sure you knew how important you were to him.

The love between you wasn’t the whirlwind romance it had once been. Now, it was quieter, enduring—built on a foundation of trust and understanding. But that only made it more beautiful. One evening, you lay together on the couch, your legs draped over his lap. Satoru leaned down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips. It was longer than usual, his lips lingering against yours, but there was no urgency, no rush. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your knee.

“I want you to know,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with meaning, “I’m not going to push for more until you’re ready. We’ll take things at your pace.”

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, filling you with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed. Satoru wasn’t just showing you love—he was showing you that he respected your boundaries, that he was willing to wait as long as it took. You looked up at him, your heart full as you pressed another soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice just as soft. “For waiting.”

Satoru smiled, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll wait as long as you need. You’re worth it.”

And in that moment, you knew that this was different. This love, this new beginning, wasn’t about picking up where you had left off. It was about building something stronger, something more beautiful than you had ever imagined.

As the weeks turned into months, Satoru made good on his promise. He became more than just the strongest sorcerer—he became your confidant, your best friend, your greatest source of comfort. And with each passing day, the love between you grew, blossoming into something soft yet powerful. You fell in love with him all over again, in ways that surprised even you.

It was in the quiet moments, like when he would make you breakfast in the morning, flipping pancakes with a goofy grin on his face just to see you smile. Or the way he would pull you into his arms after a long day, holding you close, his chin resting on your head as the two of you stood there, wrapped up in each other.

And it was in the playful moments too, when he would catch you off guard, his laughter ringing through the room as he scooped you up and spun you around, both of you breathless with joy. In those moments, you realized that love didn’t have to be complicated. It could be simple, easy, full of laughter and light.

One evening, as the two of you sat on the rooftop of your building, watching the sunset, Satoru turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this,” he said, his voice soft, “but being with you... it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden admission. “Satoru...”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off gently, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I know I’ve made mistakes, and I know I haven’t always been the person you deserved, but... I’m so damn grateful that you gave me another chance. That you let me back into your life.”

You felt your chest tighten with emotion, the weight of his words settling over you. “I’m glad I did,” you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m glad I let you back in.”

Satoru smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll never take that for granted,” he murmured against your mouth. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love you.”

And in that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of pink and gold, you realized that this—this love, this connection—was everything you had ever wanted. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its struggles, but it was real. And it was yours.

You and Satoru had fallen in love once before, but this time was different. This time, it was deeper, stronger, built on a foundation that couldn’t be shaken. And as you sat there, your hand in his, you knew without a doubt that this was the love that would last a lifetime.

Time had a way of making everything feel lighter. The once overwhelming weight of doubt, the uncertainty that had gripped your heart when Satoru first came back into your life, now felt distant, almost like a dream. What you had with him now was different, deeper, and more certain than anything you’d ever known. The slow, steady rhythm of your relationship had turned into something beautiful, something strong. And now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

It had been a year since that first tentative step toward rebuilding what had once been broken. A year of growth, of love that had blossomed into something extraordinary. You and Satoru had come so far from the people you once were, and now, everything just felt... right.

But Satoru had been acting strange for the past week. Not in the way he usually was—playful, teasing—but quieter, more thoughtful. He had always been affectionate, always attentive, but now there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. You caught him staring at you more often than usual, his gaze lingering with a softness that left you feeling both curious and comforted.

And now, tonight, he had asked you to meet him on the rooftop, the place where you had shared so many of your quiet moments together. The sky was clear, the stars twinkling overhead as the cool breeze swept through your hair. You found Satoru already waiting, standing with his back to you, looking out over the city.

The sight of him standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, made your heart swell with a quiet, familiar affection. As you approached, he turned to face you, his lips curling into that soft smile that had come to mean so much.

“You’re here,” he said softly, stepping toward you. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles in that gentle, familiar way that always made you feel so grounded.

“I’m here,” you replied with a smile, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. There was something in his expression—something different, a certain gravity in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. “Satoru... is everything okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at your hands in his, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. When he finally looked up at you again, there was something raw, something vulnerable in his gaze.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he began, his voice quiet but steady. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him carefully. There was a nervous energy in his movements, a hesitation that was so unlike him, and it only made your curiosity—and the faint stirrings of hope—grow stronger.

Satoru took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was too scared before,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Too scared to commit, too scared to make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. But now... now, I know. I’ve known for a while.”

Before you could say anything, Satoru dropped to one knee in front of you, still holding your hands in his. The sight of him there, kneeling before you with so much love and devotion in his eyes, took your breath away.

“Satoru...”

He smiled, a little sheepishly, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat, your mind racing as you watched him open it to reveal the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen—simple, elegant, perfect.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. “But I was too scared—scared of losing you, scared of not being enough. But after everything... after all we’ve been through, I know now that I don’t want to spend another day without you by my side.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this world. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, every single day.”

Your heart felt like it might burst from your chest as he continued, his voice steady but filled with so much sincerity it made your eyes sting with tears.

“I’m devoting myself to you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he spoke. “Completely. You’re everything I need, everything I want. So... will you marry me?”

For a moment, you were too overwhelmed to speak, your emotions swirling in a beautiful, chaotic mess. The sight of Satoru kneeling before you, the sincerity in his voice, the love in his eyes—it was everything you had ever wanted, everything you hadn’t dared to hope for. You felt tears spill down your cheeks, but they were happy tears, tears that carried the weight of the journey you had both taken to get to this point.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you smiled through your tears. “Yes, Satoru. A thousand times, yes.”

A wide, relieved grin spread across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. The moment it was in place, he stood up, pulling you into his arms in one swift motion, holding you so tightly you thought you might break. But it was the best kind of breaking—the kind that left you feeling whole, loved, cherished.

Satoru kissed you then, soft and sweet, his lips lingering against yours as if he never wanted to let go. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I promise you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but full of conviction, “I’m never going to take you for granted. Not ever again. I’m yours, completely.”

And in that moment, standing under the stars with Satoru’s arms wrapped around you, you knew that this was it. This was the forever you had both been searching for.