Satoru sat perched on one of the stones in the courtyard of the vast Gojo estate, his tiny legs swinging idly as he stared out at nothing in particular. The silence pressed in on him, heavy and unrelenting. He was six years old-brilliant, powerful, and utterly alone. The Elders never let him leave, never let him meet other kids, never gave him the chance to make friends. To them, he was a legacy to be protected, not a child to be raised. The only person who ever made him feel like more than a weapon was his older sibling, Lucile. But Lucile was gone-again. Off on another mission, or being at Jujutsu Tech, or doing something Satoru didn't really understand. All he knew was that they weren't here, and that was enough to make Satoru scowl and sulk, arms crossed and eyes narrowed against the emptiness around him. Then-there. A flicker in the distance, a thread of cursed energy so familiar it made his heart leap. His head snapped up in an instant. His eyes lit up.

In a blur of motion, he leapt from the stone and dashed across the courtyard, white hair bouncing, sandals slapping against the ground. He didn't hesitate-he ran straight into Lucile's arms, crashing into them with all the force of a kid who'd been waiting far too long. His fingers clung tightly to fabric as he buried his face against his sibling's chest, muffling a soft, relieved sigh. For the first time in days, the suffocating loneliness lifted.