—A Flashback to Days Before the Star Plasma Vessel Mission—
There are days that live in memory not because of what happened, but because of what didn't. Days when the world seemed briefly still—when the monsters quieted, and the blood dried, and for once, there was time to just be.
This is one of those days.
The morning sun painted Jujutsu High in warm hues, the kind of light that made things feel softer than they were. For once, there was no mission, no curses, no blood—just space to breathe.
Kishibe sat beneath the camphor tree in the courtyard, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. The scar on his mouth still ached when he smiled, which was rare. But this morning? He wasn't frowning either. Shoko had cleared him for light duty. He wasn't fine—he'd never say that—but he was moving forward.
Gojo appeared out of nowhere, landing on the bench beside him like a cannonball. "You're not gonna sulk under this tree all day, are you?"
Kishibe didn't look at him. "Would if I could."
"That's depressing," Geto added, strolling up with a half-eaten melon bun. "We finally get a free day, and you're wasting it in a shadow."
Kishibe exhaled slowly. "Then what do you suggest?"
"Tokyo," Gojo grinned. "We're going out. Arcade, food, chaos. The works."
Kishibe muttered something under his breath, clearly unconvinced.
Geto sat on the bench armrest, a rare genuine smile tugging at his lips. "C'mon. I think we need it. You need it."
Kishibe gave a long pause… then stood.
---
Downtown Tokyo buzzed with life.
The trio didn't wear uniforms today; they blended in—almost. Gojo, in oversized sunglasses, stuck out anyway.
He dragged them to a crane game, where he nearly shattered the glass trying to win a cursed panda plush.
"You suck at this," Kishibe muttered, arms crossed.
"It's rigged!" Gojo insisted dramatically. "I'm too powerful for this delicate machine!"
Geto, calmly pressing the controls, won one on the first try and handed it to a child nearby. The girl beamed, and Gojo sulked.
They stopped at a ramen bar next. They squeezed into a narrow corner booth, steam curling around them.
"Remember when we first met?" Geto asked, stirring his bowl. "You were quieter, Kishibe."
"I still am."
"No, now it's 'mysterious loner with trauma' quiet. Before it was 'I might stab you in your sleep' quiet."
Kishibe cracked a rare grin. "You're not wrong."
Gojo leaned in, his voice dropping a shade. "We've been through a lot lately. That mission… it hit all of us."
The words lingered in the broth-scented air.
"I still think about that girl," Geto admitted.
"I don't," Kishibe said, flatly. Then added, "I try not to."
"It's okay if you do," Gojo said softly. "Means you still care."
---
Later, under a row of wind chimes,
Gojo vanished to hunt for sweets, leaving Geto and Kishibe alone.
Geto leaned against the rail. "Ever wonder what we'll be like ten years from now?"
Kishibe stared out into the quiet cityscape. "Dead, probably."
Geto barked a short laugh. "God, you're dark."
"Realistic."
"…I hope not."
Geto bumped his shoulder lightly against Kishibe's. No words—just presence.
"You think we're still just kids?" Kishibe asked.
"Maybe," Geto murmured. "But whatever we are, we're in this together."
---
By sunset, the three of them lounged atop a hill covered in vending machines, sipping canned coffee.
Kishibe leaned back, watching the changing sky. For once, the quiet wasn't heavy—it felt earned.
"You know," Gojo said, suddenly serious, "this—right now—feels like peace."
"Don't jinx it," Kishibe muttered.
But even he felt it.
Gojo stretched, exaggeratedly. "Let's make a promise," he said. "No matter how screwed up things get, we'll come back to this someday. Just the three of us. Even if it's just for one day."
Kishibe didn't respond. Geto didn't either. But neither of them looked away.
Far below, in the dusty archives of Jujutsu High, a file had been pulled:
> STAR PLASMA VESSEL — CANDIDATE CONFIRMED.
And somewhere, in Kishibe's dreams that night, a girl stood beside his mother under a sky too red to be real.
They didn't speak. But they didn't have to.
The future had already started moving.