Young_Jedi

Kishibe was a cursed child with a knife and nothing to lose. Thrust into Tokyo Jujutsu High, he crosses paths with two other prodigies—Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Together, they form a volatile trio bound by power, pain, and the things they can't say out loud.

But growing up as a monster has its cost. As the past catches up to the present, Kishibe must face what he ran from—and fight alongside Gojo one last time, in a battle only one of them will survive.

Jujutsu Kaisen : Dog Unleashed

The sun cast long shadows over the courtyard.

A week had passed since the Star Plasma Vessel mission, but the wound hadn't closed—not for them.

Gojo walked slowly across the grass, blindfold back in place, head tilted upward as if trying to remember what sunlight was supposed to feel like. His steps were aimless. Wandering. The same boy who once cracked jokes at faculty meetings now hadn't said more than a few words in days. His energy, once infectious, now felt like a ghost of itself.

Geto sat beneath the camphor tree, book open, pages untouched. His eyes weren't on the text. They were on Gojo, tracking his every move. Watching. Waiting. The quiet between them used to be peaceful. Now it was heavy—like something they couldn't bring themselves to say was lodged in their throats.

And they didn't know how to ask where he was.

Shoko leaned against the wall outside the recovery wing, arms crossed, watching the trio through the glass panels at a distance.

Yaga stepped beside her, his face drawn.

"They're not themselves," Shoko muttered, eyes fixed on Gojo and Geto.

"They survived," Yaga replied. "That alone is something."

"Surviving isn't the same as living," she said softly. "Not for people like us."

Inside, Gojo finally sat down beside Geto. They didn't speak. Just sat there in the silence like it was sacred.

Shoko's eyes moved to Kishibe's door—still shut, no visitors allowed. Not even her. And she'd been the one to stitch him together.

The room reeked of alcohol and blood.

Kishibe stood at the open window, shirtless, puffing on a cigarette. The bandages over his ribs were tight, but not as tight as the scowl on his face. He hadn't been to class. Hadn't checked in with Yaga. Hadn't spoken to anyone.

Their voices lowering when they passed by.

He exhaled a stream of smoke and watched it curl into nothing.

He didn't know what was worse—what he remembered, or the fact that he remembered all of it.

Riko's hand trembling in his. The way she looked at him like he was invincible.

"Students are asking questions," Ijichi said, placing a stack of reports on Yaga's desk.

"They want to know what happened. Why Kishibe won't leave his room. Why Gojo won't joke anymore. Why Geto stopped training with anyone else."

"There's no answer that will make sense to them."

"And what about the faculty?" Ijichi asked quietly.

Yaga opened his eyes. "We lost one of our own. And even the ones who came back didn't really come back."

Gojo stood in front of a practice dummy. His fists were bruised. No Infinity. No technique. Just raw punches.

Each strike was harder than the last.

Geto watched from a distance. When he approached, Gojo didn't stop. He kept hitting until his knuckles bled.

"Why are you doing this?" Geto asked.

Gojo finally stopped. Turned to him.

"Because I can't punch that bastard anymore."

Geto didn't answer. He just stood beside him.

He sat on the floor of his room, another bottle half-empty beside him. A pile of ash filled the ashtray.

But the blade lay next to it. Cleaned. Sharpened.

But for once, he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone.

And that scared him more than anything else.

Chapter 54 : The Quite Between Us