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

Not in temperature. In weight. In something unspoken.

Shoko Ieiri sat on the front steps of the training hall, a cigarette half-burned between her fingers, barely noticing the chill in the stone beneath her. She stared across the yard where students sparred under the afternoon sun, but her gaze was elsewhere—focused inward.

Behind her, Gojo leaned against a pillar, sunglasses half-lowered. His hair was messier than usual, and even the tilt of his mouth—usually amused or cocky—was pulled taut. He didn't speak.

"Yaga said he checked in once. That was it," Shoko added. "No report. No return. No message."

Gojo finally muttered, "He's not dead."

Shoko nodded slowly. "I know. That's what makes it worse."

Elsewhere, in one of the smaller classrooms, Nanami Kento sat at a desk with his sleeves rolled up, reviewing a faded mission debrief. His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line.

Across from him, Haibara Yu paced restlessly. His usual brightness was dulled. No jokes. No laughter. Just silence, occasionally broken by the scuff of his shoes against the wooden floor.

"You looked up to him, didn't you?" Nanami asked without lifting his eyes.

Haibara stopped. "Yeah. Still do."

Nanami set down the paper, folded his hands. "He doesn't seem like the type to vanish without reason. But it's not hard to guess why."

"You think it's guilt?" Haibara asked, almost hesitant.

"No," Nanami replied. "I think it's grief. The quiet kind. The one that makes a man stop talking."

Haibara sat across from him, arms resting on the desk. "They said he kept fighting even after Gojo and Geto were down. That he tried to protect Riko until the end."

"He didn't fail," Haibara said, voice firmer. "He just couldn't win."

That night, in the infirmary, Shoko finished cleaning up an empty bed—the one closest to the window. Kishibe's bed. Sheets fresh, pillow straightened. But something lingered in the air: tobacco, steel, and a bitter scent she couldn't name.

"You don't even say goodbye, do you?" she whispered.

Her voice cracked slightly, and she pressed her lips together.

Gojo stood outside the door, arms crossed, leaning back against the wall. He hadn't moved for almost an hour. The hallway was silent, save for the distant hum of lights and the faint echo of students returning to their dorms.

Geto's old uniform still hung by the storage room, untouched.

The students noticed too. Whispers flitted through the halls like curses.

But the teachers said nothing. And the ones who knew—Gojo, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara—they never entertained rumors. Not even once.

He had simply chosen the one battlefield no one else would walk into.

Shoko sat on the roof later that night, a second cigarette in hand. Her phone buzzed once. A message from an unknown number.

She exhaled slowly, hand trembling as she deleted the message.

Chapter 69 : Ghosts in the Hall