The laughter from the argument slowly faded.
Even Gojo's complaints about buying breakfast had run out of steam.
The cabin grew quieter.
Snow tapped softly against the windows.
Takeru stood near the table, hands in his pockets.
Thinking harder than usual.
Then he spoke.
"…If we break this timeline…"
He paused.
"…Can I not see uhm…"
His voice stalled.
For the first time in a while, words failed him.
A flash crossed his eyes—
Shibuya.
Noise.
Smoke.
Mahito.
The moment everything tore open.
The moment lives ended too fast.
Tears threatened before they could fully form.
Takeru looked down sharply.
Shook his head once.
Forced air into his lungs.
"…Some stuff."
The room stayed silent.
No jokes.
No interruptions.
Gojo's expression softened.
Geto watched carefully.
Shoko lowered her cigarette.
Nanami closed his book.
Haibara looked confused, but concerned.
Utahime didn't say a word.
Takeru continued.
Slower now.
More honest.
"…We could try to manipulate everything."
"…Make it so my friends and I… dead or alive…"
He swallowed.
"…Go to regular this timeline."
Haibara blinked.
"…Regular?"
Takeru gave a small shrug.
"…School. Days like this. Snow fights. Dumb stuff."
A pause.
"…So we can relive this."
He looked around the cabin.
At warmth.
At youth.
At people who didn't know what was coming.
"…Change the timeline."
Another pause.
"…It hopefully could happen."
Silence held for a long moment.
Then Gojo stood.
No grin this time.
No theatrics.
Just sincerity.
"…You really carry all that, huh?"
Takeru didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Geto spoke next.
Quietly.
"…You don't actually want power over time."
A pause.
"…You want another chance."
That landed cleanly.
Takeru looked away.
"…Yeah."
Haibara's voice came next, gentle and immediate.
"…Then let's give everyone one!"
Nanami sighed.
"…You make impossible things sound casual."
Shoko gave a small smile.
"…That's why he's useful."
Utahime crossed her arms.
Still defensive, but softer now.
"…Changing time is insane."
A beat.
"…But… I get it."
Gojo stepped beside Takeru.
"…Listen."
He looked toward the window.
"…Maybe you can't rebuild everything."
Then looked back at him.
"…But if there's even a one percent chance?"
A grin returned.
"…We're obviously trying it."
Takeru let out a short laugh through the weight in his chest.
"…That sounds like something I'd say."
Gojo pointed at himself proudly.
"…You got it from me."
"…I'm stronger than you."
"…Still false."
Geto shook his head, smiling faintly.
"…If we're rewriting fate…"
He stood too.
"…Then let's at least make it elegant."
The room changed after that.
Not solved.
Not healed.
But aligned.
For the first time since arriving—
Takeru wasn't looking backward.
He was looking at possibility.