Chapter 64: “After Everything, Tomorrow”

The worlds let go of each other quietly.

No explosion. No final shockwave. The overlapping spirit layers peeled away like mist under morning sun. Cracks in the sky closed one by one, leaving behind nothing but pale blue and drifting clouds.

For the first time in weeks, the air felt normal.

Gojo stood at the center of the street as the last traces of spirit energy faded. His legs shook, exhaustion settling in now that nothing was holding him upright anymore.

“It’s… over?” Suma asked softly.

Mizuki closed her eyes, sensing the realms. “Yes. The barriers are back where they belong.”

Hikami looked around slowly, fists clenched, then loosened them. “I can’t feel the pressure anymore.”

Raika let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “No influence. No commands. No pull.”

The Spirit God was silent.

Not sealed. Not destroyed.

Dormant.

Gojo felt the absence clearly. Not like something ripped away, but like a deep current finally sinking back beneath the surface. The constant awareness, the weight of balance, the endless pull to fix things.

Gone.

He was just… himself.

Anzu knelt, brushing her fingers against the flowers that had grown wildly during the battle. They withered gently, dissolving into soft light.

“My magic isn’t reacting anymore,” she said with a small smile. “It’s calm.”

A soft ripple passed through the air.

The fairies felt it at once.

The contract.

The unspoken claim.

It loosened.

Then disappeared.

Mizuki straightened, expression unreadable for a moment. “The Spirit Council’s authority is gone.”

Raika frowned. “Meaning?”

“We have no political claim over Gojo,” Mizuki said simply. “No binding obligation. No right to decide his role.”

Hikami turned to Gojo sharply. “They can’t summon you. Can’t demand anything.”

Suma laughed weakly. “So you’re officially just… a guy again.”

Gojo blinked. Then laughed too, a quiet, disbelieving sound.

“Good,” he said. “I was getting tired of being important.”

No one argued.

They left the ruined street as emergency teams and spirit mediators arrived to clean up what little damage remained. Casualties had been avoided, just as Gojo had promised.

The world moved on.

Morning came gently.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, warm and ordinary. The table was crowded, as always.

Hiyori hummed softly while setting plates down. Suma argued with Raika over who burned the toast. Hikami leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Gojo like she was making sure he was really there.

Anzu poured tea, careful and quiet. Arashi flipped an egg too hard and pretended he meant to do that.

Gojo sat at the head of the table, wrapped in an old hoodie, hair still messy from sleep.

No glow.

No pressure.

No destiny screaming in his head.

Just breakfast.

He took a bite, then paused, listening to the noise, the arguing, the laughter.

“…What now?” he asked casually.

Everyone went quiet for a second.

Then Hiyori smiled. “Now we live.”

Suma nodded. “And cause trouble in smaller ways.”

Raika smirked. “Preferably without god-level disasters.”

Hikami met Gojo’s eyes. “The future’s open. That’s enough.”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, sunlight warming his face.

Outside, the sky was clear.

Tomorrow was uncertain.

And for the first time, that felt like a gift.