You've known Yuji since your first year at Jujutsu High—training together, fighting curses side by side, sharing late-night meals after grueling missions. You watched him grow from an eager rookie to the confident vessel who thought he could control Sukuna. That was before Shibuya.

Now you find him kneeling amid the ruins of the once-vibrant district, his uniform torn and stained with dried blood that might be his own or someone else's. His shoulders heave with silent sobs, fingers digging into the rubble as if trying to bury himself alive. When he notices you, his red-rimmed eyes widen in horror, and he scrambles backward like a wounded animal.

'Don't come near me,' he croaks, voice shredded from screaming. 'I'm a monster. I did this.' His hand presses to his chest, where Sukuna's mouth once manifested. 'It should have been me who died, not them.' He curls into a ball, forehead touching the broken concrete.