The next morning was grey and quiet. Rain clung to the windows of Jujutsu High, and the faint hum of distant training echoed from the yard.
Kishibe sat under the overhang outside the dorms, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, a mug of black coffee untouched beside him. He didn't sleep much. He never really did anymore. The wind pulled gently at his coat, and the scent of wet earth clung to everything.
Yaga found him there.
"You look like hell," the principal said simply.
Kishibe took a slow drag. "So I've been told."
Yaga stepped closer, folding his arms. "You planning to stay?"
"For now."
Silence settled between them.
"I've been reviewing your mission logs," Yaga said. "Or rather, the lack of them. You disappeared, Kishibe. For a year."
"Didn't stop working," he replied. "Just stopped reporting."
"That's not how this works. You're not a lone wolf, no matter how much you act like one."
Kishibe raised an eyebrow. "Am I not?"
Yaga sighed. "I know what you're doing. You think if you shoulder the worst of it alone, the others won't suffer."
Kishibe didn't reply.
"But you're breaking down. Every time you use Severance, it takes more of you. And the way you are now... you're walking into missions half-dead before they begin."
Kishibe's voice was flat. "Still breathing."
"Barely," Yaga said. "Don't forget you're not the only one who cares if you come back."
There was a long pause before Kishibe muttered, "I didn't come back for anyone."
Yaga turned to leave, but stopped at the steps. "Then stay long enough to remember who you were. Before all of this."
---
Later, Gojo found him leaning against the weapons shed, watching the rain cut trails across the gravel.
Gojo's blindfold was pushed up, revealing tired but alert eyes. His coat flapped loosely, his hair a little messier than usual.
"Old man," Gojo said. "You know, for a guy who vanished into myth, you're pretty easy to find."
"Wasn't hiding," Kishibe replied.
Gojo stood beside him. "It's weird. You leave without a word, everyone starts talking. Rumors. The kind where first-years say you drink curses for breakfast."
Kishibe grunted. "Maybe I do."
Gojo chuckled. "Figures. You still smell like cigarette ash and bad decisions."
Kishibe took a long drag. "You still talk like a kid who doesn't know when to shut up."
Gojo's grin faded. "You heard about Geto, right?"
"I heard."
"He's... changed. For real."
Kishibe's voice dropped. "You gonna kill him?"
Gojo didn't answer right away. "I don't want to. But I might have to."
"You better know the reason, if you do. Or it'll eat you."
Gojo looked at him sideways. "Coming from you, that's... terrifyingly honest."
Kishibe shrugged. "Seen what guilt does. Wouldn't recommend it."
Gojo's voice turned quiet. "I'm glad you're still alive."
Kishibe didn't answer, but something in his posture softened.
---
Shoko found him by the infirmary window, watching the clouds roll.
She crossed her arms. "You still avoiding people?"
Kishibe replied without looking. "I don't avoid. I'm just rarely worth being around."
"That's bullshit," Shoko said flatly. "I patched you up enough times to know you're still trying, even if it's messy."
He turned to her. "Severance... it doesn't work the same anymore. It's sharper. Hungrier."
"That's not a technique, Kishibe. That's you."
"I know."
"Then stop running from it. You've survived more than anyone here."
He looked down. "Doesn't mean I should've."
Shoko stepped closer. "You're still here. That means something."
He met her eyes, and for a second, he looked like someone who remembered how to care. Just a second.
---
In the field, Nanami adjusted his tie while Haibara launched another playful punch.
"Come on, Nanami-senpai, you're so stiff you could snap!"
"I take training seriously. Unlike you."
From the porch, Kishibe watched them. There was something about their youth that made the edges of his heart ache. The way Haibara smiled without effort. The way Nanami tried to hide his own admiration for his friend.
Nanami noticed him. Gave a short nod.
Kishibe returned it.
Haibara waved cheerfully. "Senpai! You watching us train?"
Kishibe replied with a smirk, "Making sure the next generation doesn't trip over their own potential."
They laughed, and he allowed himself a breath of peace.
---
He sat back down, cigarette between his fingers, coffee still cold, and let the rain fall.
Some part of him was still broken.
But he was back.