He didn’t have a key anymore. He’d lost it somewhere in the chaos, along with his old backpack and his grandfather’s funeral photo. So he just knocked.
Inside, the air was stale. The small kitchen table was still set for two. A half-empty cup of tea had grown a fuzzy kingdom of mold. The TV was off, but a thin layer of dust covered everything like a silent scream. Home RESULT FOR- JUJUTSU
Yuji’s throat closed up. He looked around the dusty, moldy, broken-down little apartment. And for the first time since Sukuna had ripped control away from him, since he’d watched Nanami die, since he’d heard Nobara’s scream—he felt a crack in the wall he’d built around his heart. He didn’t have a key anymore
Gojo snapped his fingers. The dust didn’t vanish. The mold didn’t disappear. But the air shifted. The oppressive weight of cursed energy—the memory of violence—thinned, just a little. Inside, the air was stale