(Y/n) barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut behind Gakuganji. The weight of his words pressed down on her, suffocating.

'Director Anthony? Why would he order the cursed object?'

'And Gojo—'

'He was there when they were killed. Why didn't he investigate?'

All the accusations, all the implications—it was too much. Her head pounded, a sharp, relentless pain spreading behind her eyes.

"Of course Gojo would lead you on. You're his little project. A toy he's shaping. Why else would he push you so hard? All the training, all the manipulation—"

The voice in her head wasn't hers.

She stiffened, a cold dread creeping down her spine.

Lucas.

The curse user she had drained. His voice slithered into her thoughts, pressing down like a heavy weight on her chest.

Her breath grew shallow, uneven.

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath her cracking apart.

Her fingers curled into fists as nausea twisted her stomach.

She needed to move, to react—to do something—but her body felt paralyzed.

And then the thoughts started creeping in.

'Gojo knows nothing about your parents' death.'

'He led you on.'

'He pushed you, tested your limits, watched you like an experiment—'

A flash of memory jolted through her mind.

Gojo's grin when he saw what she could do. The way his eyes had glowed with curiosity, with fascination.

Had she ever really been anything more than an asset to him? Something to be studied? Controlled?

A sharp throb stabbed behind her eyes.

Laughter echoed.

They were laughing at her.

"(Y/n)."

Ieiri.

(Y/n) barely registered her voice.

Ieiri had been trying to call Gojo, but now she had put her phone aside, stepping closer, concern etched into her face.

"(Y/n), are you okay? What did Gakuganji want?"

(Y/n) tried to answer. She should answer. But her mind was spiraling, drowning under the weight of paranoia and foreign voices.

She couldn't stay here.

Not in this room. Not with Ieiri's gaze pinning her in place. Not with so much noise—

Without another word, she turned and stormed out.

"(Y/n)!" Ieiri called after her.

She didn't stop.

Didn't look back.

She needed to get out.

To breathe. To think.

She ran as fast as she could toward the nearest exit from the school grounds—the same ruined gate where she had fought the day before. Blood still stained the ground. Her blood.

"You're alive because of me." Lucas's voice echoed in her mind.

"Shut up." She gritted her teeth. She needed to get rid of him.

Ieiri had advised against it. She had healed—probably because of his innate technique. If she expelled his cursed energy, there was a chance her wounds would reopen.

But right now, that risk felt irrelevant.

She just needed to be free.

Few moments earlier*

Gojo leaned back, hands in his pockets, watching his students with a lazy grin. Baseball was a fun distraction, and after everything that had happened, they deserved a break.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Ieiri.

He debated ignoring it for a second. (Y/n) probably hadn't returned to the infirmary, and Ieiri wanted him to do something about it. He could handle that later, after talking to his students. Besides, (Y/n) wasn't reckless. Not that reckless.

The phone buzzed again. He ignored it once more, but by the third time, he couldn't anymore.

Rolling his eyes, he answered, pressing it to his ear with one hand while gesturing for his students to gather. "Yo, what's up?"

"Gojo, get to the infirmary. Now."

Something in Ieiri's tone cut straight through his usual carelessness.

His body went rigid. "What happened?"

"Gakuganji was here. He spoke to (Y/n)."

Gojo's entire being zeroed in on those words. "What did he want?"

"I don't know, but she went into shock and ran off."

Silence.

Ieiri didn't even hear his breath through the receiver.

In an instant, he teleported directly to the infirmary, finding Ieiri still standing near the door, her expression tight.

"Where did she go?"

"That way." She pointed.

Gojo's jaw clenched.

Gakuganji knew something. It had to be him who looked into the Matryoshka mission.

Without another word, he vanished again—his only focus now: finding her.

It didn't take long.

As Gojo appeared at the ruined gate, his eyes immediately locked onto (Y/n).

She stood on the bloodstained ground where she had nearly died the day before, her breath uneven, hands trembling at her sides. But it wasn't just anger that rolled off her in waves—it was exhaustion, confusion, something deeper that even she seemed unsure how to handle.

Scattered around her were warped, half-formed objects—metal plates, jagged spikes, weapons that shimmered weakly before collapsing into dust. She was burning through her cursed energy fast, shaping and reshaping, over and over, like she could will the chaos inside her into something solid.

(Y/n) exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders before extending her hand. A thin, jagged metal plate materialized in her palm—warped, unstable. She crushed it between her fingers, letting the cursed energy dissolve.

Again.

A spear.

Again.

A shield.

Again.

Each object flickered into existence, only to be tossed aside and collapse moments later. The energy inside her thinned with every cycle, but she didn't stop. If she kept molding, kept focusing on the physical, then maybe—maybe—she could drown out the voice in her head.

"Gojo never even looked into it."

Her jaw clenched. Another weapon—this one lacked detail and faded away as soon as it hit the ground.

Gojo exhaled slowly. "You're going to run yourself dry."

(Y/n) didn't stop. A blade took shape in her hand—unstable, flickering at the edges. She shaped it for a long moment before tightening her grip.

"Why do you care?"

His expression didn't change, but something about him stilled. "Because you're acting like you want to self-destruct. Ieiri told you what can happen if you deplane your cursed energy."

(Y/n) let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Worst case I would start bleeding again."

The words made something twist inside him, but he kept his voice even. "I need you to calm down."

"Calm down?" She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. She wanted answers now. "Did you even investigate my parents' deaths?"

Gojo's lips parted slightly, but no words came. That was enough of an answer.

Her blood turned ice-cold.

"Did you even try to find out? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I deserved to know the truth? That I—" Her voice cracked. She swallowed it down, forcing herself to stay upright even as her hands clenched around the poorly shaped sword. "Or was it just easier to lie? To keep me on your side, feeding me whatever crumbs of information you thought were convenient?"

Gojo sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't investigate back then." The honesty in his voice only made it worse. "But I did recently. I had a friend look into your case."

(Y/n) took a step forward. "And?"

His hesitation was brief, but she caught it.

"Your former director," he said finally, voice low, "was the one who ordered the cursed object that created the curse that killed your parents."

"So you did know and deemed it unnecessary to tell me."

"(Y/n)—"

"No!" She took another step, her whole body trembling. "You knew how much this meant to me. You knew I spent years fighting, training, bleeding—sacrificing everything—to find the truth. And you just… lied to me? You looked me in the eyes, said you cared about me, and you lied?"

He reached for her, but she recoiled as if his touch would burn her.

"I wanted to tell you—"

"But you didn't!" Her voice cracked again, this time under the weight of tears she refused to let fall. "You kept it from me. Just like you kept me close for your own reasons. You just cared to train me and shape me into whatever vision you had for me."

Gojo's breath hitched. "That's not—"

But she wasn't listening. She couldn't.

Her rage, her heartbreak—everything that was left inside her demanded an outlet, and he was the only one standing in front of her. With a choked sound, she lunged at him.

"You were never more than a project to him."

Lucas.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the voice away.

"(Y/n)," Gojo's voice softened just slightly, as if sensing the storm inside her. "I really need you to calm down." He asked again.

"Don't tell me what to do," she hissed.

The blade in her hand wavered, flickering like a dying ember. She was almost empty.

Gojo noticed.

When she lunged, he didn't activate Infinity.

The blade met his chest with barely any force, scraping uselessly against his shirt before dissolving entirely. Her knuckles struck next—once, twice—fists colliding with his ribs, his jaw. The blows lacked any cursed energy but would still leave bruises.

Nevertheles, he let her hit him anyway.

Because she needed to.

"I trusted you," she whispered, voice cracking as her punches slowed, each one weaker than the last. "I trusted you, and you lied to me."

The last of her cursed energy flickered out like a dying flame.

Lucas's voice was gone.

The weight of her own body hit her all at once.

Gojo caught her wrists before she could stumble, holding them gently. "I didn't want to hurt you," he said quietly.

(Y/n) let out a shuddering breath, her strength finally giving out.

"I just… I just need to be away from you right now," she murmured.

He let her go.

And as he stood there, watching her walk away, he realized—this time, he wasn't sure if she'd come back.

He stood there for what felt like hours, his guilt, regret, and heartbreak rooting him in place, preventing him from going home.

At some point, Ieiri showed up. Led by her unyielding curiosity, she had followed the remnants of (Y/n)'s cursed energy, hoping to find some clue as to what had happened. But she never expected to find a broken Satoru Gojo.

She hesitated before approaching him, but he had already sensed her presence.

"She's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

He exhaled, feeling more exhausted than he had in a long time.

"If I had to bet, I'd say she's packing her things, getting ready to go home and confront her ghosts."

"And you're just going to let her go?"

Through his sunglasses, she caught a glimpse of his eyes—just enough to see the desperation in them.

"I screwed up, Shoko." His voice was quiet, raw. "I should have told her what I found out as soon as I did. I can't ask her to stay now. There's no way she will…"

Shoko studied him for a long moment. "I don't know what you did, but if you can't convince her to stay, then tell her exactly why you don't want her to leave. And maybe, just maybe, you can make her come back after her revenge."

That made Gojo lift his head, a flicker of hope shining in his eyes.