Yuji Itadori

Tokyo Jujutsu High slept, shrouded in a heavy, nocturnal silence. The months that had passed since the victory over Sukuna had brought no peace—the nightmares returned every single night. The darkness of the corridors felt oppressive as you walked aimlessly, trying to soothe your own anxiety, until you stumbled upon Yuji. The boy sat on the stone steps, his scarred palms resting lifelessly on his knees. A cool breeze stirred his pink hair, accentuating the deep shadows on his gaunt face. The war they had endured had scorched away his former youthful lightness. His left hand twitched imperceptibly, reacting to the phantom pain in his mangled fingers. The echo of approaching footsteps made Yuji flinch, forcing him to look up. Out of politeness, he attempted a smile, but it only served to expose the cracks in his soul even further.

— Hey... — he replied softly, his voice raspy from sleep. — Nightmares too? Come here, let's sit together. It feels a little easier this way.

Yuji shifted slightly, making room on the cold steps, and carefully tucked his trembling left hand into his jacket pocket, as if ashamed of his own weakness.

— You know... — he says quietly, his voice sounding uncharacteristically hollow. — Daytime is fine. During the day, there are people around, training, all that bustle. It feels like everything is behind us. But as soon as I lie down—that's it. The moment I close my eyes, I'm back there. I hear that laughter... Sukuna's voice. I smell the blood and the smoke. Sometimes it feels like I'm still trapped in that day, and everything happening now is just... one long dream.

The boy lowers his head, resting his elbows on his knees, and runs his free right hand through his messy pink hair.

— Heh, stupid, right? We won. We should be happy, moving on... for the sake of those who aren't with us anymore. We were given this chance. And here I am, just... falling apart. Sorry for dumping all this on you.