The moment the group silently stepped back through Jujutsu High's gates, even the spring breeze seemed to carry a bone-chilling cold.
When they had left yesterday, they had still been laughing and chatting, trading jokes, their hearts light at the prospect of a break while out on assignment; after just one night, everyone's state of mind had been turned upside down.
Still hungover, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto remained groggy, an unshakable heaviness lurking in their expressions; Utahime Iori stayed silent throughout, her heart heavy with sorrow, having fully understood the cruelty of life and death's unpredictability in Jujutsu Society; Shoko kept watching Qingxiao beside her, faint concern hidden in her eyes.
Qingxiao said nothing more the entire time.
There was no broken sobbing on his face, only a deathly still calm.
Bidding everyone farewell, he politely declined all their offers of company and comfort, turned alone, and headed toward Jujutsu High Back Mountain.
Jujutsu High Back Mountain was secluded and deep, rarely visited, with lush vegetation and rustling winds-the quietest and loneliest place in all of Jujutsu High.
Qingxiao found a sunny clearing of bluestone and slowly came to a stop.
He raised his hand and steadily carved into the hard bluestone, stroke after stroke.
Stone chips fell with a rustle, their faint sounds especially clear on the empty back mountain.
After a long time, an exceedingly crude gravestone took shape.
Only one name was neatly carved on it: Nagayumi Jin. There were no birth or death dates, no eulogy or inscription, yet it was the last dignity Qingxiao could give his friend. Beneath the stone lay nothing, neither grave nor bones.
Qingxiao stood quietly before the empty memorial.
The wind rustled through the woods, sounding so much like the laughter they had once shared while chatting side by