"Sun's fine if the booze is cheap." She took a slow drag of her cigarette. "No curses. No old men. No Gojo."
He smiled, knowing exactly who she meant. "Sounds like paradise."
"It is." She let her eyes flutter shut in momentary bliss. "A completely unreachable, entirely fictional paradise."
The air pressure in the cramped office violently snapped.
"Did I hear someone talking about a vacation without me?!"
Before the spatial distortion could even settle, Satoru Gojo materialized directly in the center of the room. Unbothered by the sudden shift in gravity, he stood tall, the signature black blindfold secured firmly over his eyes. Brightly colored shopping bags balanced precariously in his arms.
"Satoru." Shoko didn't even blink. Her voice fell completely flat. "I am holding a scalpel under this desk. Give me one good reason not to throw it at your throat."
"Because I come bearing gifts!" he beamed, hoisting the bags like trophies before dropping them onto the only clean corner of the autopsy desk. "I just took a quick detour to Sendai. Figured my two favorite gloomy people could use a sugar rush."
He started yanking items out, listing them off with excessive enthusiasm:
Three boxes of Kikufuku Mochi: Zunda, matcha, and raw cream.
A massive strawberry crepe: Wrapped in pink paper and practically overflowing with whipped cream.
Two iced lattes: Both loaded with an ungodly amount of caramel syrup
"You went to Sendai." He raised an eyebrow at the pile. "Just now?"
"Yep! The line for the mochi was terrible, though. Nearly waited five whole minutes," Gojo complained, leaning his lanky frame against the stainless steel. He tossed one of the sweating plastic cups across the room.
Catching it effortlessly, the ice rattled inside. "Thanks." A quick push popped the straw through the lid.
Shoko glared at the bright boxes invading her workspace. "I don't eat sweets, Satoru. You know this. They ruin the taste of my tobacco."
"Your loss. More for me." Humming happily, Gojo tore the pink paper off the crepe. He took a massive bite, chewing thoughtfully.
Then, he turned his head.
The casual, goofy aura didn't vanish, but the atmosphere immediately tightened. Even through the black fabric of the blindfold, the heavy, distinct weight of the Six Eyes locked dead onto the rolling stool.
For a long, silent moment, Gojo just chewed. His shoulders stayed relaxed, but his head tilted a fraction of an inch.
"Say," Gojo mumbled around a mouthful of whipped cream. He swallowed. A slow, knowing smirk crept onto his face. "Did you lose something recently?"
A calm sip of the caramel latte bought a second of time. Keeping his heartbeat perfectly steady and his posture relaxed, he met the blindfolded gaze. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"
"Just an observation," Gojo hummed, taking a step closer. He leaned in, tapping a long, bandaged finger through the air right at his chest. "Your cursed energy. It was already microscopic, sure. But right now? It's draining. Leaking out like a bathtub with the plug pulled."
Shoko froze, her cigarette hovering halfway to her mouth. Her medical instincts flared, eyes darting sharply across the desk. "You're bleeding energy?"
Ren lowered the plastic cup. He wiped a drop of caramel from his chin and looked at Gojo.
"Leaking?" Ren asked. He leaned back on the stool. "Am I dying, or is this just a fun fact?"
Shoko crushed her cigarette into the glass tray. She grabbed a small medical penlight from her desk. "Sit still," she said, stepping over to him.
Gojo laughed around a mouthful of crepe. "You're not dying. But your energy is definitely circling the drain. It's like watching a really slow, boring leaky faucet."
Ren let Shoko tilt his chin up. The bright light flashed across his eyes. "I woke up feeling a little hollow today," he said casually. "Figured I just needed sleep."
Shoko pressed two fingers to his neck. "No fever. Pulse is steady. Does your chest physically hurt?"
"No," Ren said. "Just empty."
Gojo stopped chewing. He tilted his head, watching Ren for a second. Then, he snapped his fingers.
"Ah! I get it." Gojo pointed his half-eaten crepe at Ren. "The Heavenly Restriction."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"
"Your body is adapting," Gojo beamed. "When you copied Maki's physical stats, you essentially hijacked a Heavenly Restriction blueprint. But you still had a tiny, useless drop of civilian cursed energy left over. Your body is just flushing out the last of the garbage to finish the upgrade. It's rejecting the energy to optimize your muscles."
Ren let out a slow breath, nodding like the logic made perfect sense. "So I'm just turning into a complete meathead."
"Exactly!" Gojo chirped, taking a loud slurp of his iced latte. "It's totally harmless. You'll just be completely empty soon."
Shoko sighed. She clicked the penlight off and walked back to her chair. "If you start coughing up blood, come back. Otherwise, get out of my morgue."
Ren rested his elbows on his knees. He brought the plastic cup back to his mouth and took a slow sip. Behind the plastic lid, the corner of his mouth ticked upward. Lowering the drink, he set the cup on the steel desk, the ice clinking in the quiet room.
He didn't correct Gojo. If the strongest sorcerer alive wanted to invent his own reasons for Ren's fading energy, that made things easier.
"Since you're here," Ren said, reaching into the canvas bag at his feet. "Do me a favor."