The Arrival of Canon Cast

Yuuji was finally getting married. He would soon take the hand of his childhood friend, Ozawa Yuko, who, in just a matter of hours, would become Itadori Yuko.

Standing at the altar, he adjusted his tie nervously, his eyes scanning the faces of the invited guests. The majority were Yuko's family and close relatives, a sea of unfamiliar faces that only deepened the knot in his stomach.

For Yuuji, only a handful of people stood out—a few old friends from junior high, and from the jujutsu world, just Yuuta-senpai, Maki-san, Utahime-san, and Ijichi-san had come. Todo had sent his regrets, off on a honeymoon with his wife, Hana-chan. Nobara had returned to her hometown to find her mom and couldn't make it.

And Megumi…

Yuuji's gaze faltered.

He hadn't seen or heard from Megumi in years. The last time they had fought side by side was against Sukuna in Shinjuku, nearly three years ago. Less than a year after that, Megumi had vanished.

No messages, no trace, no goodbyes—just a void where his best friend used to be. He was simply gone, swallowed by the shadows he once commanded so easily.

It felt surreal, standing there alone. The trio, once inseparable, had splintered. Nobara had moved on. Megumi had disappeared. And now, here he was, about to start a new chapter, but somehow feeling like he was leaving behind pieces of himself that he'd never get back.

Yuuji sighed and patted his cheeks lightly, pulling himself out of his spiraling thoughts. The sound of the piano echoed through the hall, a soft melody signaling the start of the ceremony. The guests rose to their feet as the grand doors swung open, sunlight spilling into the room.

There she was—Yuko, dressed in a stunning white gown, the light catching the delicate lace and making her glow like an angel. Her smile was radiant, her steps steady as she made her way down the aisle. Yuuji's heart began to race, but it wasn't just the nervous excitement of a groom.

There was something else.

A weight pressing on his chest, a gnawing unease that he couldn't shake.

She reached him at the altar, her hand warm in his as they stood before the priest. The ceremony unfolded as it should, every word, every vow flowing smoothly. But inside, Yuuji felt a hollowness growing, like an echo in an empty room.

He should be happy. He should be filled with joy. This was his wedding day, after all.

And yet, his heart felt like it was pounding for all the wrong reasons.

Was it fear? Doubt? Or something deeper?

Before he could stop himself, his thoughts spiraled further.

Was this right?

Was this what he truly wanted? Or had he been running—running from something he couldn't even name?

"Yuuji-kun, are you alright?" Yuko's soft voice broke through his haze. Her eyes were wide with concern as she noticed the sweat beading on his forehead and the pale hue of his face.

He opened his mouth to respond, to reassure her, but no words came. His vision blurred, the edges darkening. His knees buckled, and before he could register what was happening, he felt the cold ground rush up to meet him.

Gasps and cries of alarm filled the air.

Yuko knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she tried to shake him awake. Yuuta and Maki were suddenly there, their faces etched with worry.

But Yuuji couldn't focus on any of it. The last thing he saw was Yuko's tearful face and Yuuta-senpai shouting something he couldn't quite hear. Then the world tilted, and everything plunged into darkness.

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Satoru rubbed his forehead, fingers pressing against the dull ache that had settled there after days without proper sleep. His whole body felt heavy, worn out from completing over a two hundred special-grade missions in just one day. It was a ridiculous number, even for him, but he hadn't stopped to think about it. Now, standing in his dimly lit kitchen, he let out a long sigh.

The clock on the wall read 11:55 p.m. In five minutes, he'd turn 28. Another birthday. Another reminder. Three years since Geto died. Ten years since Haibara. Time kept moving, but those gaps in his life never seemed to fill.

He glanced at the Starbucks bag he'd brought home—a small cheesecake he'd grabbed on a whim.

Not much of a celebration, but it wasn't like he expected anything else.

Pulling the dessert out, he stuck a single candle in it, lighting it with a flick of his finger. The tiny flame cast a warm glow across the dark kitchen, the only light in the apartment.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He picked it up, squinting at the screen. It was a message from Shoko.

"Happy birthday, nerd. Don't forget to rest, okay?"

He chuckled softly, a small smile crossing his lips. Trust Shoko to remember. But the smile didn't last. He stared at the screen for a moment longer before setting the phone down.

No other messages came.

Not from Megumi, who had grown too distant, too wrapped up in his own world. Or from Nanami, who was probably working late, as always.

The quiet of the apartment crept in again. He leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on the flickering candle. For a second, the present faded, and he was 17 again—surrounded by laughter and teasing, the kind of joy that came easily back then. Shoko had been there, cracking jokes with Utahime. Haibara had been alive, his smile as bright as the sun.

And Geto…

Geto had still been Geto. His best friend, his partner in everything. Not the stranger he became. Not the loss that still sat like a stone in Satoru's chest.

The clock hit Midnight.

Satoru blinked, the sound pulling him out of the past. He stared at the candle for a moment longer before closing his eyes and blowing it out.

The flame disappeared, leaving the room pitch black.

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For the first time in his life, Satoru felt calm.

He'd never told anyone, not even Geto, how much he hated his Six Eyes. Deep down, he despised it. And worse than that, he was jealous— jealous of people who got to live their lives with a normal set of eyes. Those people didn't realize how lucky they were.

For them, sight was just sight. For him? It was a curse disguised as a " gift."

How could it not be?

From the moment he was born, Satoru saw the world in a way no one else could. A perfect 360-degree field of vision, like some goddamn 24K HDR+, always-on, see-through filter.

He couldn't just see people—he saw their negative energy, their cursed energy, their flaws, their cracks. He saw cursed spirits lurking in the shadows. He saw animals, bugs, even the goddamn plants in their most intricate detail.

And it only got worse as he got older. When he was a kid, his range was manageable—500 meters, maybe. By the time he turned 28, his vision stretched 28 kilometers in every direction. Twenty-eight goddamn kilometers of constant, unavoidable clarity.

People called it a blessing, but to him, it was nothing more than a burden. When he wasn't fighting or actively using it, it was unbearable.

The sheer volume of information pouring into his brain every second was overwhelming. It felt like noise—deafening, endless noise—frying his brain, amplifying his migraines, and leaving him on the edge of madness.

At fourteen, he'd reached his limit.

He'd scoured the world for the darkest, thickest glasses humanity had ever made. Anything to block out the endless stream of information. They helped, a little. The migraines weren't as constant, and the noise was dulled, but they didn't really solve the problem. Nothing could. His eyes never stopped. Not unless he was dead.

But now, standing here, something was different.

For the first time, the overwhelming flood of information was gone. The noise that had been frying his brain for years? Silenced. The migraine that had been his constant companion since childhood? Vanished.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

For once, it felt like the world wasn't trying to break him. And for a moment, just a moment, he let himself breathe.

The calm vanished in an instant.

Satoru's body shifted automatically, instincts snapping into place as his eyes fluttered open. The scene before him was jarring—a strange place that looked like an old movie theater.

Rows of empty seats stretched out in front of him, dimly lit by a faint glow that didn't belong. The air felt heavy, unnatural, as though something—or someone—had gone to great lengths to pull him here.

A sense of unease prickled at him as he realized the cursed energy within him was stifled, locked away. Even his Six Eyes were useless, dulled into nothing more than ordinary sight. He cursed silently, feeling exposed and vulnerable without the clarity they provided.

The light shifted, growing brighter, and his heart clenched as he noticed the theater wasn't as empty as it had seemed. Shapes began to form out of the glow—people. Dozens of them. Their faces were obscured by the dim light, shadows dancing across them, but the sheer number was overwhelming. He squinted, silently willing his Six Eyes to return, but they remained inert.

Damn it.

He hated this blind fumbling in the dark.

From the corner of his vision, movement caught his attention—a figure, thin and clad in dull, almost lifeless clothing, rushing toward him. Satoru's body tensed, instincts screaming for him to prepare. His hands itched to form a defense, but as the figure closed the distance, something unexpected happened.

The stranger didn't attack. Instead, they threw themselves into his arms, gripping him tightly. For a moment, Satoru froze, bewildered. Then he felt it—the wet warmth of tears soaking into his shirt. Soft, broken sobs reached his ears, and something about that sound shattered him.

It was familiar. Painfully so.

"M-Megumi…?" he whispered, his voice raw with disbelief.

The sobbing grew louder, more desperate, as Megumi buried his face against Satoru's chest. He clung to him like a lifeline, his body shaking with the force of his cries. Satoru's instincts kicked in, and he moved without thinking, arms wrapping around the boy tightly. He pressed a hand to Megumi's head, fingers threading through his hair in a soothing gesture, whispering soft reassurances.

"It's okay, Megumi. I'm here now. It's okay…"

But it wasn't okay. Not even close.

As he held Megumi, Satoru's heart sank. His touch confirmed what his dulled sight couldn't—Megumi was thinner than he remembered. Alarmingly so.

It wasn't just a little weight loss; it was as though his body had been hollowed out. Satoru could feel the sharp angles of bone beneath his hands, where there should have been healthy muscle.

Two weeks. He had seen Megumi and the others just two weeks ago before heading overseas. What the hell had happened in such a short time?

His mind raced, frantic. Had something gone wrong? Did someone die? Had Sukuna taken over Yuuji again? Or had the Higher-Ups pulled some stunt while he was away?

He tightened his hold on Megumi, as if doing so could shield him from whatever pain had reduced him to this state. Satoru's voice dropped to a soft, desperate whisper.

"What happened to you, Megumi?"

But Megumi didn't answer. He only cried harder, and Satoru felt the weight of his failure pressing down on him. Whatever had broken Megumi, he hadn't been there to stop it.

He couldn't tell how long he'd been holding Megumi, his favorite student—his son—so tightly in his arms. Time seemed to stop as he cradled the boy, gently stroking his head while Megumi's sobs slowly quieted. When the tears subsided to a faint trembling, Satoru carefully lifted his face, only to be struck by the sight that met him.

Megumi looked utterly drained. His once-bright green eyes were rimmed with red, dark circles carved into his face like bruises of exhaustion. His cheeks were gaunt, hollowed enough that his dimples—those rare, fleeting markers of a smile—were now permanent fixtures. And somehow, in just two weeks since Satoru had left, Megumi looked like he'd aged years.

He stared at the malnourished, weary teenager before him, who now bore the presence of a man in his early twenties, stripped of the softness a sixteen-year-old should still have.

The ache in Satoru's chest tightened. Slowly, tenderly, he wiped the tears still spilling from Megumi's lashes. He'd promised himself he wouldn't have to see this again—not after Tsumiki fell into that damn coma. But here Megumi was, breaking apart in his arms, the cracks too deep for Satoru to smooth over.

"I… I-i miss you, " Megumi stammered, his voice catching between hiccupped breaths.

Satoru froze, his heart tripping over itself. Those words, so hesitant, so raw, carried a weight he hadn't been ready for. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled softly, stroking Megumi's hair.

"I miss you too, Megu-chan," he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Megumi's forehead.

It wasn't like Megumi to say things like this. He was the type to bottle up his emotions, to refuse comfort even when he needed it most.

Words of affection, moments of vulnerability, and even something as simple as a hug—all of it was so rare, so unlike him. And now, Satoru stood in this moment that felt impossibly fragile, clutching it like the precious gift it was.

The best birthday gift he could've asked for at twenty-eight: his son, finally letting him in.

Megumi buried his face in Satoru's chest, his grip tightening as he clung to him. Satoru's arms came up again, wrapping protectively around him as though he could shield Megumi from the world itself. But then—light.

A sudden burst illuminated the cinema, chasing away the shadows. Satoru's body immediately went on high alert, instincts firing as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room. And what he saw made him freeze in place.

Yuuji stood a few rows away, tears streaming down his face as he clung to an older man who bore a striking resemblance to him. Naoya Zenin was nearby, his expression a mess of confusion and anger, as though the world had pulled a cruel joke on him. And then…

No. No, that couldn't be right.

Satoru's breath hitched as his gaze landed on Geto. Geto Suguru, who was supposed to be dead. But there he was, alive, standing amidst the chaos, two teenage girls clinging to him like they belonged there. Satoru recognized them, though it took him a moment—Geto's adopted daughters. And standing near them, poised for battle, was Toji.

The world tilted on its axis.

Impossible.

He'd killed both of them. He'd been there, had seen the finality of it. So why—? Were they corpses reanimated like Panda? Or something worse?

"What the fuck is going on?" Satoru muttered, his voice low, his grip on Megumi tightening instinctively as the surreal scene unfolded around him.

Before Satoru could process anything further, a voice boomed through the cinema, reverberating from every corner.

"Welcome to our dimension," it said, the tone disorienting. It was feminine but layered with something else, a distortion that made it impossible for Satoru to identify the speaker. His sharp senses strained to pinpoint the source, but the sound was everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Today, we—"

"What the fuck do you want?!" Toji interrupted, his voice sharp and challenging as he raised that damned heavenly spear, glaring at the ceiling like he could pierce through it.

"Yeah, where the fuck are we?" Naoya added, his tone equally demanding, though a trace of unease flickered behind his bravado.

"…Quiet, child."

Before Satoru could react, both Toji and Naoya crumpled. It was almost unnatural, the way their knees hit the ground like paper folding under the weight of something unseen, something unbearable. Whatever force it was, it was strong enough to crush them, to strip them of their resistance.

Satoru instinctively tightened his grip on Megumi, pulling him closer as unease crept up his spine. His eyes strained to analyze their surroundings, but the oppressive weight of cursed energy in this place—it wasn't just strong.

It was something else. It's not cursed energy.

Something that managed to suppress his cursed energy output and dull even his Six Eyes. This had never happened before. He forced himself to stay calm, but his chest tightened with worry. Whoever had created this domain expansion wasn't just powerful—they were leagues beyond anything he'd encountered.

"...Today, we all want you to see your other fate."

"Other fate?" Yuuji's voice broke the silence, his confusion evident.

"Yes, my child. Your other fate. The world where jujutsu will forever end."

The weight of those words hit the room like a thunderclap. Satoru felt the shock ripple through everyone. How could that be? Jujutsu, cursed energy—it was as old as humanity itself. An eternal cycle, an unchanging truth: humans birthed negative emotions, which became cursed energy. Cursed energy created cursed spirits. Jujutsu sorcerers fought and exorcised those spirits. It was the natural order, the way it had always been.

But to end it? To make a world free from cursed energy?

That was impossible.

Wasn't it?

"…How did that happen?" Geto's voice cut through, and Satoru turned to see his old friend. There was something burning in his gaze—hope, determination, maybe even desperation.

"That will be explained," the voice replied. "In the form of moving pictures. You will behave, watch, and learn. No fighting with one another, or I will stop revealing it. Do you agree?"

A heavy silence followed. Satoru glanced around the room, watching as the others exchanged uneasy looks. His gaze landed on Geto, whose sharp eyes were fixed on Toji. The tension between them was palpable, dangerous, and Satoru knew if cursed energy hadn't been suppressed, the room would already be a battlefield. Toji lounged in one of the chairs, looking bored but clenching his fists tightly, as if ready to strike.

But then Yuuji's voice rang out, clear and firm. "We all accept."

"Farewell. If that's your choice, please take a seat and be patient. All will be revealed in due time."

The lights in the cinema dimmed once more, and a glow began to emanate from the glass screen at the front of the room. The eerie silence thickened as every pair of eyes turned toward the screen, waiting, bracing for the secrets that were about to unfold.

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OMAKE

Megumi : "I-i..I miss you," (had PTSD since Shinjuku arc)

Gojo : (Very Happy but also ready kill anyone that hurt his "student")