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He walked to the small altar in the corner. His grandfather’s photo was there, but someone had placed it upright again. And next to it, a single, fresh tangerine.

He tried the handle. Unlocked.

And Yuji, for the first time in a very long time, replied, “I’m home.” Home RESULT FOR- JUJUTSU

This was the apartment he’d shared with his grandfather. This was the place he’d left every morning, shouting “I’m off!” to a grunt and a wave. This was home .

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. He walked to the small altar in the corner

The rain over Tokyo was a constant, weary sigh. Yuji Itadori stood outside the worn-down apartment building, the one with the chipped green paint and the always-broken intercom system. It didn’t look like much, but to him, it was the center of the universe.

“You’re supposed to knock, brat. You live here.” He tried the handle

“It’s a mess,” Yuji whispered.