The airport stretched infinitely in all directions, its runways vanishing into the horizon like fading echoes of lives once lived. The fluorescent lights above hummed softly, flickering in slow rhythms, their glow neither warm nor cold. Time felt suspended here—not quite moving forward, not quite standing still. This was the terminal between what was and what would be.
Gojo Satoru sat in one of the empty lounge chairs, his long legs sprawled out before him, arms draped lazily over the backrest. He had spent his last moments here laughing, his usual smug grin bright against the void. Shoko had left first, tossing him a lazy wave. Geto had followed, his farewell more of a knowing glance than words. One by one, they had all gone ahead—boarding flights to places Gojo could not follow.
Now, he was alone.
He raised the boarding pass in his hand. White paper, inked with characters he somehow understood, though no language he’d learned. "North." A destination he didn’t know, but for once — for the first time since Shibuya, since everything — he felt ready.
Stolen novel; please report.
As he stood and made his way to the gate, something caught his eye at the arrival terminal. Two figures.
A tall man with cruel eyes and a grin carved from nightmares, walking side by side with a pale, silent figure.
Sukuna. And Uraume.
Gojo's lips curled into a half-smile. Not mocking, not cruel — something softer. "Looks like you made it, huh?"
He wondered if Yuji was right, if maybe, in those final moments, the King of Curses had truly learned what it meant to love — or at least, what it meant to care, even if it was just a flicker.
Good.
Yuji would’ve wanted that.
Without a word, Gojo turned back, boarding his plane to the next life. The engines hummed like a heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, a blizzard waited for him, and something ancient was calling his name.
Jon.
He smiled.
"Its time to head North."
The plane lifted into the endless sky, leaving the terminal — and his old life — behind.
