He is gone.

The world in which I slumbered for so long feels empty. The warm, cozy glow of his smile and our gaiety conversations float in the back of my head. It left me dormant, mouth gaped, yet my speech lost to the hundred things I could say.

Every time my hands raise to vanquish the revolting mass of human corruption that were cursed spirits, I think back to you and how hatred was your very essence.

Memories had become stagnant. But I knew life wouldn't wait on my deep sorrows; I was the strongest, after all.

Gojo was taking a chill gait across the wooden bridge leading over to the next facility area within Jujutsu tech. His hands were deep in his pockets while he thought to himself. And in the moment of intense emotion, he suddenly halts within the center. Then, he spun around on his heels to gaze at the river.

"This blows." He drawled. It had been an easy day with fewer missions than usual, leaving him little to do.

A gentle breeze played with his neatly combed snow-white hair, rippling over the high collar of his dark blue zip-up jacket. His eyes were hidden behind white bandages, shielding him from the physical world and making it easy for him to miss the details of his surroundings.

What day is it...

...Oh! Right, it's the last day of December...

His tall, lean figure stood out against the backdrop of the wooden bridge, and his posture exuded a sense of calm and control. He was a sight to behold, even in his moments of solitude. He unwinds, taking in the quiet.

Suddenly, his famous grin sprawled over his lips. Those goofy tendencies got the best of him. "Why don't we go pay a visit to Leiri?" He snickered to himself.

...

"Why are you here...?"

Leiri cringed, glaring at the animated, exuberant Gojo. He was giggling and wiggling around comedically until Leiri slipped on her surgical mask and walked by him, making him pout and slump over.

He observed her fixing gloves over her stretched-out hand, then worked away at the cursed corpses on the operating table.

Gojo's grin slipped into an unamused frown, and he slid a hand down his pockets again, tilting his chin up with an exaggerated swagger. "Can't I visit a dear old friend?" He spoke. Leiri wasn't buying it.

"Were you getting lonely? Is that it?" Leiri joshed, glancing over at him for a split second to see a long tug against his mouth.

He took a small stroll over to one of the chairs and flopped back with a slight grunt; he folded his legs and leaned back as he responded. "Leiri, sometimes you just can't get what you want," A sneaky grin shines over his expression. "So, you have to take it from others."

Leiri stripped her gloves and tossed them in the bin on the side. Next, she lowered her mask again and walked over to grab the pack of cigarettes resting next to the sink.

"Like my time?" Leiri replied. Gojo looked up to see her coming to sit down; they relaxed for a moment. And afterward, there was a click against her thumb rubbing into the spark wheel of a lighter, igniting a small flame that burned at the cigarette foot.

The woman wedged the cigarette between her fingers and blew out puffs of smoke that settled in the air. Gojo didn't mind; he's been around her more times than his fingers and toes can count. "You know, you're putting a weird wedge between us when you use my last name," Leiri mentions, fiddling with the lighter as she waits for his response.

"Ah, sorry, yeah."

Gojo stuck his tongue out between the wedge of his lips, giving a playful response. "I seem to forget sometimes, Shoko," he giggled. Shoko stretched her lips thin to an unrecognizable pout. After a slight glare, she took another swig to relieve herself.

"You seem to be forgetting many things these past few days." She commented. A sense of gloominess fell over their heads, reminded of their reality. The persistent buzz of the fluorescent lights above them seemed to amplify the dreariness.

Shoko's eyes lowered slightly, worry clouding under her draped, long lashes." You haven't been entirely here since..." her voice murmured.

Gojo's lips twisted into a frown, his usual charm replaced by an unease that was almost tangible. The silence was oppressive, and Shoko found herself struggling to speak, knowing she shouldn't. "...since Suguru—" But she was cut off, his voice a low, ominous warning.

"Don't say it."

Her body instinctively moved away, taken aback by the tone of his voice. However, she wasn't surprised. Shoko was playing with fire; even uttering Suguru's name like this, when he was so buried in emotion, was a recipe for disaster.

And frankly, she was terrible at dealing with emotions herself.

'I can't just tell him it will be okay when I'm over here feeling like shit too...'

'...Dammit, Suguru. Even in your grave, you give us trouble.'

Shoko wedges her forehead between her thumb and index finger, taking a deep inhale and a loud exhale of weight off her chest. The incense of burning ashes circled the air, juxtaposing a heavy burden left on their shoulders. That burden is his memories slowly perishing before their eyes.

She didn't want Gojo to be constantly fixated on Suguru. The thought of a cheerful guy in the dumps, especially one she had endured three years of high school with, was a little unsettling; It didn't feel right. So, Shoko somehow muddled this idea together.

"Satoru..."

"...why don't you give therapy a try?"