"Everything went wrong. I—I did everything I could to save them, but I—I couldn't do it," Itadori Yuji said, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face.

He could only keep staring at the floor of the train, watching helplessly as his tears fell onto the cold surface beneath him.

Weeks had passed since the defeat of Sukuna, the King of Curses, but the victory had come at great price.

Megumi was gone. Nobara was gone. Maki was gone. All those he had fought beside, all those he had called friends, had perished in that horrific battle. Everyone he could think of, everyone he tried to protect—dead. 

Yuji was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that he could barely summon the strength to even sleep anymore. The weight of their loss, the crushing guilt, weighed him down like an anchor, pulling him into a deep, endless sea of grief. His body ached, but it was that part inside him that hurt the most. The weight of their deaths pressed down on him like an unrelenting storm, a suffocating cloud that refused to lift. No matter how hard he tried to keep it together, the grief consumed him in waves, each one crashing harder than the last.

He could still see their faces, hear their voices, the way they had laughed and fought together. It felt like a distant memory now, one that he could no longer reach, no longer grasp. And yet, it haunted him, taunting him with what had been lost.

His body was physically drained, as if the act of surviving had drained him of all vitality. But the emotional exhaustion was the worst part. The guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. 'I should have been stronger. I should have protected them.' He couldn't escape those thoughts.

The train continued beneath him, but it did little to calm his nerves. His hands were trembling, and he wiped his face again, trying to hide the tears, but it didn't matter. The people around him were strangers. They didn't know the weight of what he had lost. They didn't understand what it felt like to watch everything crumble around you, to fail the people who had believed in you.

"Yuji…" He heard a soft voice, but it didn't register at first. The person was standing in front of him, their hand on his shoulder. He blinked, confused, and looked up.

It was Gojo Sensei!

Yuji's eyes widened in disbelief. 'No, it couldn't be him. He's dead, too.' 

But Gojo smiled at him gently, a smile that was both warm and sad, like he understood everything Yuji was feeling without needing to say a word. "It's not your fault, kid," he said quietly, his voice soft and soothing. "None of it was your fault."

Yuji shook his head violently, as if trying to shake the vision away. He didn't want this… this illusion, this dream. "But… but they're all gone. I couldn't do anything! I couldn't save them!"

Gojo's hand tightened on his shoulder, a firm grip. "It's not always about saving everyone. It's about fighting until the end. You gave it everything you had, and that's all anyone could ask for."

"But it wasn't enough!" Yuji shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "I let them down! They died because I—"

"Stop." Gojo's tone sharpened, cutting through Yuji's spiraling thoughts. "They died fighting for what they believed in. And so did you. If you hadn't fought, if you'd given up, we'd all be lost. But you didn't. You kept going. That's what matters."

Yuji's breath hitched, the tears threatening to spill over once more. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. But instead, he just collapsed against Gojo, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as the weight of his sorrow finally overwhelmed him.

Gojo didn't answer with words. Instead, he held Yuji, allowing him to cry. He didn't try to offer false promises or empty reassurances. There was no magic spell to undo what had been done. But sometimes, just being there for someone, just letting them grieve, was the only thing that could make any difference.