The temperature here was kept constant year-round, and the air was thick with the sterile, sickly scent of formalin and disinfectant.
Pale overhead lights beat down on the stainless steel autopsy table, reflecting with a cold, clinical sheen.
Shoko Ieiri, clad in a white lab coat with an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips, pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with an indifferent expression.
On the table before her lay the naked body of Yuji Itadori.
The gaping hole in his chest had been roughly cleaned, revealing the mangled network of severed blood vessels and torn muscle tissue within.
"What a mess,"
Shoko sighed, picking up a gleaming scalpel.
"I feel a bit bad for Gojo, but orders from above are absolute: I have to confirm whether Sukuna is truly dead."
"So, my apologies, Itadori-kun."
"I'll try to be as gentle as possible."
With that, she raised the scalpel, preparing to make the first incision across his abdomen.
*Snap.*
A bandaged hand suddenly reached out from the shadows, firmly gripping Shoko's wrist.
Startled, Shoko turned her head.
Yoru was sitting in a nearby chair; though he looked pale, his eyes were remarkably sharp and clear.
He had arrived alongside Satoru Gojo.
Despite his numerous injuries, he had refused immediate medical attention, insisting on coming to the morgue first.
"Shoko-san."
Yoru's voice was soft, yet it carried an immovable weight of conviction.
"If you make that cut, he'll truly be gone."
Shoko frowned and tried to pull her hand away, but Yoru's grip was surprisingly powerful.
"Yoru-kun, I know you're grieving,"
Shoko sighed wearily.
"But as a doctor, I'm telling you as a matter of fact: his heart has stopped, his breathing has ceased, and his heart is literally gone."
"Medically speaking, he is dead."
"No human—not even a sorcerer—can survive without a heart."
Yoru released his grip, but he didn't back down an inch.
"Is that so?"
He pointed toward Itadori on the table.
"What if we stop looking at him as just a human?"
"What do you mean?"
Shoko blinked, confused.
"I'm curious too, Yoru. How can you be so certain?"
A languid voice drifted from the doorway.
Satoru Gojo leaned against the frame, twirling his sunglasses. He appeared nonchalant, but his cerulean eyes held no trace of their usual humor.
He had been there the whole time.
Like a lion guarding its pride, he stood watch at the entrance to ensure no uninvited guests would interfere.
Yoru looked at Gojo, then back at Shoko. He took a deep breath and stood up, walking toward the autopsy table.
"Because I can see it."
"See what?"
Gojo arched an eyebrow.
"The soul."
Yoru extended a finger, lightly touching the space between Itadori's eyebrows.
"The body may be dead, but his soul... it's still refusing to give up."
"Or rather, the guy living inside him is refusing to let go."
The moment the words left his mouth—
Itadori's body, which had been lying still and cold, suddenly convulsed violently.
Then—
"Gwaaaaah!"
Itadori bolted upright, clutching his chest and letting out a scream like a stuck pig.
"It hurts! It hurts! It hurts so much!"
"It feels like someone punched a hole right through me... Wait? There really is a hole?!"
Itadori stared at the massive cavity in his chest, completely dumbfounded.
"Holy crap! My heart! Where's my heart?! Where did it go?!"
*Clatter!*
Ijichi, who had just walked in to deliver the autopsy report, saw this ghoulish resurrection and promptly rolled his eyes back, blissfully passing out once again.
Documents scattered across the floor.
The scalpel slipped from Shoko's hand, hitting the floor with a sharp metallic ring.
Her usually listless eyes were wide with shock as she looked at Itadori like he was a monster, then shifted her gaze to Yoru.
"He... he's actually alive?!"
"Is this Sukuna's vessel? It's a medical miracle..."
Watching the chaos, the smile on Gojo's face finally reached the corners of his eyes.
He ignored the shouting Itadori, turning his full attention toward Yoru.
The seemingly frail boy was now smiling at Itadori, looking as if he had anticipated this outcome from the very beginning.
'He can see the soul...?'
Gojo pondered those words in silence.
While the Six Eyes could perceive the flow of cursed energy and the essence of techniques...
...even the strongest sorcerer couldn't directly observe something as ethereal as a soul.
Yet this boy, who didn't possess a shred of cursed energy, could.
"Yoru."
Gojo spoke up suddenly.
Yoru looked back: "What is it, Sensei?"
Gojo walked over and ruffled Yoru's messy hair.
The gesture was affectionate, yet it carried a deeper significance.
"You really just keep the surprises coming, don't you?"
His voice was low and resonant, carrying a reassuring strength.
"However..."
Gojo's tone shifted, and his gaze sharpened.
"Now that he's back, we have some scores to settle."
"Regarding the truth behind this mission, and..."
"...how to make those rotten oranges pay the price."
The atmosphere in the morgue grew heavy once more, but this time, it wasn't the chill of death.
It was the fire of revenge, quietly beginning to burn.
Itadori looked at everyone in total confusion.
"Huh? What rotten oranges? Are we having fruit?"
Yoru and Gojo shared a look and broke into identical, meaningful smiles.
"That's right, Yuji."
Yoru patted Itadori's shoulder.
"Someone is treating us to a very big feast."
Outside, the rain had finally stopped.
The first light of dawn broke through the clouds, illuminating the ancient campus of Jujutsu High.
A new day had begun.
And with it, the curtain rose on the reformation of the jujutsu world.