It's been more than a month.
Maybe two.
I stopped counting because numbers don't change anything. Pain doesn't follow calendars. Regret doesn't wait for dates.
I train every day.
Morning—when my body still hates me. Night—when my mind refuses to sleep.
I run until my lungs burn. I fight shadows until my hands shake. I push cursed energy through my veins again and again until it listens to me instead of screaming back.
Since that night, she has not appeared in my dreams again.
No blood. No golden seals.
No woman and no eyes as frigid.
At first, I waited for her.
Then I feared her absence more than her presence.
If she came because I was close to something… What does it mean that she stopped?
I find myself on the rooftop, with Tokyo pulsating beneath me as it always does—its lights, sounds, and vibrant life indifferent to my presence.
And suddenly, my chest tightens.
Not pain.
A pull.
My bones know the way before my mind does.
My clan's land.
The abandoned place.
The place no one talks about.
The place where I became what I am.
And the place where everything between me and Gojo went wrong.
That land isn't empty. It's heavy. Every step there reminds me. Every wall knows my name.
That's where my mother trained me. That's where my technique first answered me. That's where I thought I was enough.
And that's where I learnt I wasn't.
I don't want to go back.
That's how I know I have to.
If I want an upper hand—If I want answers about that scroll—If I want to stop lying to myself about strength—
I can't keep avoiding the place that broke me.
I rest my hands on the cold railing and breathe slowly.
"I'm not running this time," I tell the dark.
Even if that place takes something from me again, I'll face it.
Because if I stay here pretending I'm fine—
I'll never be more than what Sukuna already saw: A sorcerer who thought she was strong.
I packed only what I needed.
One bag. Clothes. Seals. A few tools. Nothing extra. I didn't want to give myself reasons to stay longer.
I was tying the strap when there was a knock.
Slow at first.
Then again—stronger, like whoever it was didn't like waiting.
I opened the door. Nanami stood there, looking past me at the bag.
"Travelling?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Clan land".
He paused. "That place still exists?"
"Barely."
He stepped inside a little, not fully. "Why now?"
"Because staying here isn't helping."
He watched me for a second. Then he said, "I saw Gojo today."
My hands stopped.
"He was walking this way," Nanami added. "Not in a hurry. Just… looking."
I didn't say anything.
Nanami adjusted his glasses. "I thought maybe you're leaving because of that."
He looked at my bag again. "It's probably good timing. He has a habit of noticing things twice."
"What do you mean?"
"The first time, he doubts himself. The second time, he doesn't."
I zipped the bag. "You think he felt me again."
Nanami didn't answer directly. "I think he's close enough to start asking questions. AGAIN."
We stood there for a moment.
"I won't tell him," Nanami said. "And I'll tell Shoko the same."
"I know."
He stepped back to let me pass. "Come back soon. Don't make it permanent."
"I won't."
I walked past him with the bag on my shoulder.
Nanami said behind me, "And Dia?"
I stopped.
"Be careful where you go," he said. "Some places remember people."
I didn't turn around.
"I know."
I step out of the building and pull my hood a little lower. The street is normal—lights, cars, people walking like nothing is wrong.
Then I see him.
Across the road. Tall. White hair is too bright for night. Hands in his pockets like he owns the air around him.
Gojo.
My heart stumbles. Not fast. Not loud. Just… wrong. Like it forgets how to beat properly.
He isn't looking at me.
He's talking to someone—some random shop guy—smiling like he always does, lazy and careless, like the world never hurt him.
I stop walking.
I shouldn't. I know that. But my legs don't listen.
He laughs. That stupid easy laugh that used to make me forget what I was angry about. He leans down a little, probably teasing the man about prices or something useless.
I move back slowly and hide behind a parked car.
My hands are shaking.
I press my fingers into my jacket, trying to make them still.
Don't look.
I look anyway.
He turns his head slightly. Not enough to see me. Just enough that I see his profile. His jaw. His smile faded for half a second, like something brushed his senses.
I hold my breath.
He looks around once. Slow. Careful.
Then he shrugs, like he's bored of searching for something that probably isn't there.
I slide lower behind the car, my back against cold metal.
My chest hurts.
Not sharp. Not sudden.
Just heavy.
A taxi pulls up near me. I don't think. I open the door and get in.
"Where to?" the driver asks.
"Anywhere away from here," I say.
The car starts moving.
I look back once.
Gojo is still standing there, arguing about something stupid, hands moving too much, voice probably loud enough for half the street.
And suddenly I remember—
Him buying me sweet drinks even when I said I didn't want any.Him standing too close just to annoy me. Him putting his blindfold on my face once and laughing when I walked into a wall. Him saying, "Relax, Dia. As long as I'm here, nothing touches you."
My eyes burn.
He used to walk like the world was safe because he existed in it.
And I believed him.
A tear slips out before I can stop it.
It's stupid. It was just a glance. He didn't even see me.
But everything inside me cracks anyway.
The taxi turns a corner, and he disappears from sight.
*************************
Later, the city changes. Quieter. Darker.
Somewhere else, Gojo walks alone now.
No jokes. No noise.
He stops on a rooftop and looks over Tokyo, hands in his pockets, wind pulling at his coat.
"Thought I felt something," he mutters.
He sits on the edge, legs hanging off like gravity is just a suggestion. He pulls out a sweet and pops it into his mouth.
Same habit. Same taste. Same as him.
But his eyes aren't smiling.
He stares at the city like he's missing a piece of it.
"Idiot," he says to the night. "Getting distracted over nothing."
He stays there longer than he plans to.
Not because he's tired—but because there was a time when one name could stop him like this.
He never says it out loud anymore. He never lets anyone see it.
Because if the world ever learns what he cares about most, it won't be strength they'll come for—it'll be her.