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12 DAYS
In the aftermath of Shibuya, the Prison Realm was not lost to the void but pulled back from the edge of oblivion, shattered instead, releasing Satoru Gojo-broken, yet alive.
Now, time is his worst enemy. It is slipping away, as his students and allies fought a battle without him.
Time is the very thing he need the most. Time to recover. Time to become the force the world still needs.
And she is time.
DAY 0
-ˋˏ ೱ ˎˊ-
The afternoon sun filtered weakly through the trees, casting long, dappled shadows across the small, isolated house where Suzume had made her retreat. The air was heavy with stillness, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind and the distant hum of cicadas. Inside, Suzume moved with the rhythm of routine, her fingers lightly brushing along the worn edge of the counter. Plants thrived in every corner, their leaves vibrant in the dim light-a small, living testament to the tranquility she had cultivated in this sanctuary.
It had been months since she had left the world of sorcery behind, retreating to this peaceful sanctuary far from the chaos she had once known. She had abandoned her old life for good reason, seeking refuge from the constant pressure of the sorcerer society. Here, in the quiet isolation of her home, she had found a measure of peace.
At least, she had-until today.
A sudden knock at the door broke the stillness, jolting her from her thoughts. Suzume paused, her hand hovering above the teapot she had been preparing, eyes narrowing as she turned toward the door. She wasn't expecting visitors. No one knew where she had gone-she had made sure of that. Whoever was on the other side of that door had gone to great lengths to find her, and that could only mean trouble.
With a soft sigh, she wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the room. When she opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with Utahime Iori, looking more exhausted than Suzume had ever seen her. Flanked by two young sorcerers, likely her students, Utahime's usually composed expression was marred by deep lines of stress and fatigue. Her posture was tense, her hair loose and disheveled, as if she had been running for days.
«Utahime.» Suzume said quietly, her surprise masked by her usual calm demeanor. «You found me.»
«We had to.» Utahime's voice was flat, but there was an urgency behind it that Suzume couldn't ignore. Without waiting for an invitation, Utahime stepped inside, her students following close behind. She wasted no time, pulling something from her bag-an object that made Suzume's breath catch in her throat as soon as she saw it.
