Help Us Survive the Winter: A Desperate Plea for Sela and Our Future 💔🌧️🙏
The silence of a stalled campaign is a different kind of cold. As donations have dried up, the desperation in our tent has grown. I am writing this with a heavy heart, reaching out to anyone who can hear our plea. My family is at a breaking point, and we need your kindness now more than ever.
### Sela Cannot Wait Any Longer 😞🥺
My little sister, Sela, is only two years old. She has been fighting severe malnutrition, and though she is starting to recover, she is still so tiny and fragile.
Now, the freezing winter rains have become our greatest enemy. Our tent is badly torn, and every storm brings a flood inside. Our blankets and clothes are constantly soaked, and I watch Sela shiver uncontrollably in the bitter cold. I hold her to my chest to keep her warm, but I am terrified that the cold will take her from me before the hunger does.
Your donations go directly toward a sturdy, waterproof tent and the nutrition Sela needs to stay alive.
A Career Sold for a Crust of Bread 💻🚫
The war has stripped us of everything. I hold a Bachelor’s degree in Computer Engineering and have professional experience, but the starvation became so extreme that I was forced to sell my laptop just to feed my family. It was a devastating choice. Now, I am stuck in a cycle of survival that leaves no room for hope:
I spend my days carrying heavy water containers across ruins.
I spend my nights trying to start fires just to keep us from freezing.
I have no way to work, no way to study, and no way to pull my family out of this nightmare.
How Your Donation Changes Everything 💸🤲
I have launched a new campaign with a trusted friend after my previous one was unfortunately banned. Every dollar donated is a brick in the wall of our protection. We urgently need funds for:
Emergency Shelter & Food: To keep Sela dry, warm, and fed.
A New Laptop & Internet: To replace the one I sold so I can apply for remote software or data entry roles and provide for my family myself.
Medical Care: To ensure Sela’s recovery from malnutrition continues.
Please, if you can find it in your heart, donate today. Even the smallest amount is a miracle for us. If you cannot donate, please share this post—your voice might reach the one person who can help us survive.
Hi, my name is Max and I am raising funds for Mahmoud and his family who are living in Gaza. Please read his story below:
blank period Suigetsu hangs out with Tenten and they bond over their love of big weapons but then he realizes her teacher is that guy who hired him for terrorism a few years ago 🤪
❤︎ | Resorting to dirty measures like biting your superior during sparring usually doesn't end without you having a taste of your own medicine... (2.6k wc)
╰ feat. Hoshina Soshiro (Kn8) x afab! reader
The recent uptick of kaiju attacks over the city has every member of the JAKDF on edge. No one knows when the next attack is coming or if they'll live to see their next birthday. The atmosphere in the Tachikawa base specifically felt odd. Most were hopeless, but then there was you.
You weren't the strongest by any means, but you believed that if it came to being persistent—you'd be the best. It showed; after all, you trained your ass off even in your off hours.
There were times you bled and shed a tear, but you never stopped. Your fellow officers often told you to slow down. But there was one person who always watched from the sidelines—silently observing how you improved every night that you would sneak away into the training rooms.
It was none other than your superior, Hoshina Soshiro.
The vice captain didn't seem all too interested to be invested in the lives of the officers. Frankly, he had better things to do. But the rookie that worked themselves to the bone had successfully caught his eye. There was something about them that reminded him of himself. In many ways, he was drawn to that fiery spirit.
Not a lot of recruits had your determination and he was more than willing to foster that. What kind of vice captain would he be if he didn't help you in honing your skills?
────────────
You stared, dumbfounded, at the fox eyed man in front of you.
"Ya heard me right the first time," he insisted.
You gulp down. "Well... I'm certainly not going to refuse your offer, sir. I was just making sure I understood what you said."
"I told ya—I'll help ya train every night. I meant it."
Finding out that your superior knew you have been violating the curfew had you expecting the worst. But Hoshina's reaction was rather unforeseen.
Instead of making you run laps or do cleaning duty—he offered to train with you during your night sessions. It made sense; training with someone better than you would allow you to improve at faster speeds. The choice was a no-brainer.
"Alright... thank you, sir."
Hoshina simply nodded before walking away from you, satisfied that you were cooperative with his ideas.
"Sir!"
He turns around with a small smile. "Yes?"
"When do we start?"
"Have ya skipped a day before?"
"...No, not really."
His smile widens. "Ya have yer answer then."
────────────
Labored breaths filled the training room—though, most of it came from you. Hoshina barely broke a sweat throughout your entire sparring session. It wasn't shocking anymore at this point.
You estimate that it's already about two weeks since he has started joining you in your training. Not once have you won against him.
At first, it felt quite motivating—knowing that you had so much to improve. But as days go by, it becomes depressing how you can never even land a good hit on him.
You weren't fit to face a kaiju with how things stand and it crushed your once blazing spirits.
With your chest heaving and your vision blurring, you continued to anticipate his next move. You figured he'd at least cut you some slack after seeing the massive difference in skill, but he was merciless. You didn't even fight back as he tackled you to the ground.
Hoshina Soshiro wasn't just talented with a blade, but also with his bare hands. Who would have thought he knew grappling as well? He easily put you in a rear naked choke and you felt your airway quickly constrict.
He taught you that if you couldn't even handle basic hand-to-hand combat—then you'd be nothing doing anything else. Besides, before ending your session with the usual bare knuckled fighting, he trained you with swords and other weapons... in which you couldn't beat him in either.
Going up against him was futile. You absorbed his teachings like a sponge, but when it came to applying them—all hope is lost.
You were going to pass out soon; you could feel it.
Despite telling yourself that you'd always fight fair and square—you realized that this wasn't the time to be righteous. Virtues, principles—whatever the fuck it is—chucked out the window.
You bit down on his arm—hard. Did you draw blood? Perhaps. But that hardly mattered to you. He finally let go, failing to defeat you completely. Hoshina hissed, checking out the fresh wound you gave him.
Neither could you move or speak. In fact, you kept your back leaning on his chest. Doing anything other than breathing was a bit too much at the moment.
"Ya play dirty, don'cha?" he whispered darkly into your ear.
The thickness and intimidation laced in his voice was enough to reinvigorate your entire being. You took the deepest breath possible before peeling yourself off of him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Of course ya didn't mean ta do that, right?" he cuts you off, lifting you off of the ground with his impressive strength.
"What shall I ever do with ya? Li'l thing bitin' her superior."
You could only stutter out a pathetic apology as he carries you in his arms.
"Nah, don'cha apologize now. Ya must be sick of me treatin' ya like a ragdoll hm?"
He was right, of course. But you weren't about to admit that to him.
Hoshina carried you over to the side of the room where the long metal bench was. Even out of fighting, he continued to treat you like a doll with the way you effortlessly flipped you over. Your stomach pressed against his lap with one of his hands resting on your nape.
You weren't sure where his other hand was, but you soon found out... the hard way.
A sharp slap made its way to your ass. It had you sucking in more air than usual.
"Not even a single yelp huh? Think ya can handle more? Ya need to be punished after all."
Another slap and then another on the other cheek. Tears were starting to brim in your eyes. With the next slap, you finally yelped in pain. Hearing your sharp breaths, he caressed your poor behind in a soothing manner.
"Think ya've repented enough?"
God, you didn't want to sound weak, but a few sniffles escaped you. His question racked your brain, yet not a single good answer came for it. It was a trap and he was steadily luring you in.
You figured—silence was the best response. However, that pissed off the vice captain even more. Hoshina let out a long and deep sigh. He didn't want to do this; he swears. But you just had to push his buttons.
"Not speakin' huh? How many times will ya disrespect yer superior after I've been kind enough ta be trainin' ya every night?"
If you've learned one thing about him these past few sessions—it was that he never gave you time to react. Only now, you're discovering that it applies to things apart from fighting as well.
He slid you off his lap without warning. Soon as you flipped yourself over, the vice captain was already hovering over you with a stern expression on his face.
He inched closer, slowly but steadily. His eyes never left yours and it seemed to have you in a trance because you failed to realize how he had already caged you between his thick arms.
"Sir..." you managed to say between shaky breaths.
"So you can speak?"
Your eyes finally stray from his face, feeling flustered by the proximity.
"Ya should use that mouth of yers fer talkin' —not fer bitin' ," he said. He leaned in to the point that you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck. It was tantalizing—almost paralyzing. "I think ya should get a taste of yer own medicine," he added.
No time was given to protest as he sunk his sharp teeth into your neck. You gasp, hands finding purchase on his arms. He suckled on the tender skin, sure to leave a mark that you'd have to cover up in the morning.
Then another bite came. Your fingers dug into his flesh. It was painful, but oddly arousing. The intoxicating scent he radiated coupled with his fine looks were a recipe for disaster. But the only one being ruined was you.
Perhaps he felt satisfied after two bites, settling on wet kisses scattered on your neck instead. He kept getting lower and lower until he was met with a barrier.
"Lemme get this out of the way, a'ight?" he says before gripping the soft fabric of your black tanktop—ripping it apart. He smirked at the sight, a flimsy lacey bra.
He pushed it up before smashing his face down on your chest, sucking and lightly biting at a sensitive bud. Your hands went from his biceps to his hair, almost pulling out the strands from the roots.
He bit, tugged, and marked you all over again—like he was staking claim. Hoshina made sure to give attention to the other one as well, sucking on the swell of your breast while using his fingers to toy with the other.
Truth be told, he was too excited and immersed in devouring you that he only now became aware of your sounds. It was delightful to say the least. It made him smile as he nipped at the sensitive flesh.
You began to arch your back, needing more of him. But he took this as a sign to go even lower, planting more kisses that trailed down your stomach. He was giving you whiplash with the alternating softness and harshness of his touch.
He looked up at you and saw your dazed expression, unable to even look back at him. This was fine; this was the only time he'd permit a subordinate not looking him in the eye.
For once, you were able to catch your breath and make sense of it all. You returned your gaze to the man above you. He was hovering over you again, looking down with a feral glare. His large hand gripped your thigh.
"Ya know... fer someone bein' disciplined... ya sure look like yer enjoyin' this."
"I'm not," you retorted. But both of you knew the truth.
"Ya challengin' me? Let's see then, shall we?"
He made quick work of the zipper on your pants before pulling it down and throwing it off to God knows where. His eyes opened slightly, zeroing on the damp patch on your panties. Of course, he was right.
"Would ya look at that—yer pussy's all soaked from that. How naughty."
"I... I... um..."
He huffed. "Ya what?"
Slap. He had slapped your pussy. The stinging sensation had you arching your back off of the cold metallic surface of the bench. A soft groan fell from your lips.
He landed another slap. "Look at how wet ya are right now. Ya shouldn't have lied huh?"
As if to soothe you again, he began rubbing his thumb over your poor cunt. "Didn't mean ta make her cry."
Hoshina smirked at his own joke—because who else would appreciate it? Definitely not you; you were too fucked out to even catch everything that he's saying.
He hooked a finger in the gusset before pulling your panties out of the way. The sight of your dripping cunt made his dick twitch. He had already been especially frustrated this week and the cute little subordinate he trained every night wasn't helping. Her little stunt was essentially the final nail in the coffin.
There was nothing else he wanted more but to fuck you senseless already. But he was a refined man; he had patience.
Hoshina pushed in two digits at first and it almost made him shudder with how tight and warm you were. Patience be damned; he was crumbling all too quickly for his liking.
"Fuck... yer suckin' it in."
A string of soft moans left you. It was music to his ears and he wanted it to be louder.
He began fucking his fingers into you at a faster pace. The muscles of his arm tensed and the veins on his forearm were popping out. A loud and vulgar moan reverberated through the training room. You could only hope that everyone in the base was asleep because there was no way you could be quiet with what he's doing to you.
You tightened around his fingers before unravelling completely. Your pussy fluttered, cumming on to his fingers shamelessly. It almost felt like a task to him—only getting it out of the way to get to the main event.
Hoshina pulled out his fingers, sucking them clean. He would have loved to get a taste of it on his tongue, but all restraint had been lost. He had to sheath himself in you or else he'd actually lose it.
"Take a deep breath for me, a'ight?" he says while unzipping his pants, only barely pulling out his leaking cock from its confines.
Maybe you should have listened because the sudden intrusion of his cock knocked the air out of your lungs. It filled you up nicely, hitting every spot with just one fluid motion.
He groans, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His fingers were practically white with how hard he gripped the bench supporting the both of you.
"Coulda fought me with this instead. Maybe ya coulda won," he teased. He began slowly fucking into you, perhaps a reprieve after his previous actions.
Your hands held on to his back, softly digging your nails into the chiseled flesh. A satisfied groan poured from his smiling lips.
The string of moans coming from you urged him to go faster. He had enough of being slow and soft. He snapped his hips at a maddening pace almost immediately. Your leg fell of the bench, hanging off and allowing him deeper access into you.
He never faltered for a second—even as he leaned down to leave marks on your neck again. You held him closer to you as if you never wanted him to leave... and he wasn't; at least, not until you've cum all over his cock.
His ragged breaths filled your ear as he continued to rut into you. Hoshina was tough, ruthless, and precise—much like on the battlefield.
A familiar clench squeezed his dick. "Ya close? Ya gonna cum on my cock? C'mon, do it," he goaded.
His thumb began circling your swollen clit. After holding on to the cold bench for a while, his touch felt freezing. The warmth you felt inside contrasted with the cold touch of his thumb. The sensation was almost numbing with how good it felt.
"Wanna cum with me? How romantic of ya," he teased again. "Fuck... I'm cummin' —take it all. This is still part of yer punishment. Got that?"
You responded with a breathless moan. That was all it took before hot ropes of cum filled you. The warmth seemed to push you over the edge as well, milking him for all he's worth. And like he said—it would be romantic. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"Ya learned yer lesson yet?" he asked, but not before capturing your wet lips in a kiss.
Hoshina let a shaky breath out as he pulled away. He knew it would be good, but he wasn't expecting for it to be this good.
"Shit... was only plannin' one round. Guess it wouldn't hurt ta discipline ya more."
He lazily rubbed his still hard cock. "C'mon, get on all fours fer me and I might not make ya run laps in morning's training." He watched intently as you followed, lining up his dick against your entrance. It was going to be a long night.
narumi gen is beyond infuriated that someone's beating his rank on the newly released game.
narumi gen x reader
── ⟢
+ you quickly glance up from your phone and honestly, you regret it because hasegawa has never looked so stressed before. his bald head looks even . . . more bald like he's lost more hair, and you can only think of one reason.
+ narumi gen. and this time, it might be your fault
+ as of recently, narumi's been really invested in this newly released online game where you're able to design your own character and play as if you're living the life of an officer in the defence force.
+ he, of course, was livid that he couldn't play as himself.
+ notable members of the force like captain ashiro, vice-captain hoshina and the suffocating narumi himself are in the game as characters with dialogue and missions. going about as your avatar, you're able to construct relationships with others and build up your 'kaiju-killing' score. you're also able to join a division based on your final evaluation.
+ oh, did i mention that this is also ranked?
+ "AAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHH!!"
+ you don't flinch as an entertaining series of clashes, screams and a whole bunch of smashing happens in the background.
+ "WHO THE HELL IS 'NARUMIS_EYEBALL' I WILL BREAK YOU!"
+ looking at the man who's meant to be your responsible and professional captain as well as your . . . romantic other─he won't admit that he confessed first─you only see a man-child in a white shirt and grey joggers, thrashing about on the floor with his phone gripped in his hands. on his screen flashes a huge 'GAME OVER' in red and you know that it's a huge hit to that unwavering ego of his.
+ "narumi," hasegawa says monotonously. the veins are about to burst out of his head. poor man, he's gone through so much since narumi was a teen. "get off the floor and clean your room."
+ "i'll get you for sure next time," your captain curses to himself, hasegawa's voice going in one ear and straight out the other. "i will find you and beat you."
+ sighing, you get up from your spot and walk over. with a hand on your hip, you pluck narumi's phone out of his hands and store it in your pocket. "gen, let's clean your room. it's filthy."
+ "OI! GIVE THAT BACK!" he screams, lunging forward like a fish hooked onto a rod, but your instincts win as you deftly jump back onto one of his precious yamazon boxes.
+ he growls─as if a man that gives you cat energy is going to do anything to you─but you ignore him, perching yourself on the edge of the box. his phone vibrates in your pocket and when you take it out, you see that his game's returned to the checkpoint. on the top right corner, you make out that his stats are, indeed, very high and due to that, he's been placed in the first division─he would've had a fit if it was any other.
+ but one other thing that catches your eye is the obvious silver '#2' on the left and if you've known narumi for more than half your life, this is worse than losing a limb in a kaiju battle.
+ you snicker, turning his phone landscape so that it sits nicely in your hands. you start tapping the screen, making his avatar run around in circles and bumping into walls. "who'd have known that the mighty narumi gen is second place in an online kaiju game." you glance over at him. "do you want me to take over the first division?"
+ "shut up," narumi hisses, stalking over to where you're sat. he snatches his phone out of your hands, but before he stomps back, his fingers gently swipe across your cheek. "you don't even play the game."
+ "yeah, you're right. i don't even play the game."
+ oh, he's wrong. you do play the game.
+ and you're the one who holds the champion title.
+ truth be told, you started this game way later than narumi did. you saw it open on his phone and it piqued your interest, and so you thought, why not? it seems to be a harmless game and it's a good thing to do when you have free time.
+ boy, if you knew how addicting this was going to be, you wouldn't have started it, but it was too late now. you soared to the top in no time, your fingers flying across the screen, tapping, swiping and smashing the 'special' button to unleash your moves. you were allocated to the first division and wherever you moved, a golden crown always floated above your head, signalling to other players that you were the current top.
+ and secretly, your in-game relationship with narumi's character was at maximum level, so you're proud to admit that he basically considered you his right-hand. if he ever finds about you playing this game, you're not going to tell him how you waited outside character-narumi's door until he woke up just to say hello.
+ but narumi has no idea. he's so constantly occupied with trying to obliterate 'narumis_eyeball'─it's a pun you made because he uses kaiju no.1─that he fails to realise you're his greatest enemy. you're literally right in front him, peering down at his screen, watching him make futile attempts to blast your character away. much to his avail, your character absolutely incinerates him with your strongest move.
+ you've seen the many faces narumi gen makes throughout the years, yet this is your favourite.
+ you rest your chin on the palm of your hands. "gen, shouldn't you, i don't know, upgrade some of your weapons so you can beat 'narumis_eyeball'?"
+ "i've already upgraded them all to lvl.90!" he spits. "i've gone on more than 200 missions, killed two daikaijus and thirty-seven honjus!" he thrusts his phone in your face and points at his list of accomplishments. "i beat isao-san in this game!"
+ "what about in-person?" you grin.
+ "i'll beat you up."
─
+ a few hours later, after bearing narumi's complaints about narumis_eyeball this narumis_eyeball that, you're sat in the training room with your spear hastily tossed to the side. you lean back on your elbows and stare up at the ceiling, your hair strewn across your face with sweat practically pouring down your cheek and neck.
+ a knock echoes on the door and you turn your head.
+ "oh!" you quickly sit up. "kikoru!"
+ kikoru had joined your unit just a week ago and you grew to become friendly with each other. as an officer with significant trust from the majority of the important people in the defence force, you want to help kikoru feel comfortable in the first division.
+ "(name)-san, sorry, i didn't expect you to be here, i'll leave you to it." she bows and makes haste to leave, but you only laugh.
+ "hey, hey, it's ok. i was all finished. you can have the room if you need." you gather your stuff and stand up, making your way over to kikoru. you pat her shoulder. "you've improved a lot, though! it's really good to see!"
+ and for a second, her eyes seem to glimmer. she salutes with a beam on her face. "thank you so much! it means a lot to hear that from you!"
+ and with a wave, you leave for a well-deserved bath. it's like your second-home at this point, especially with the ruthless amount of kaiju-missions you get assigned, which gives you little time for personal care.
+ kikoru enters the training room, but she stops when she notices a phone, your phone on the floor. you must've forgotten it.
+ she picks it up, looks left and right to check if someone's there and turns it on. your wallpaper is a really really bad and blurry picture of narumi taking a nap. you still respect his dignity─no, you don't─so just in case someone finds your phone, you have the morals to make your wallpaper something where narumi's face is, at the very least, covered. his face is mushed into his pillow and his hair is like a bird's nest, poking out here and there, and kikoru can only imagine how difficult it must've been not to laugh while taking this.
+ she finds herself mentally grimacing at how vulnerable the captain she's currently serving looks with this picture, but she shakes her head when she realises that she's casually looking through your phone. she runs out the training room and into the hallway, but you're already long gone.
+ so, she jogs over to your office and knocks on the door, but no one answers. awkwardly, she continues to hover outside, but she's broken out of her trance when a voice she recognises calls out her name from the end of the hallway.
+ "shinomiya. what are you doing?"
+ narumi walks over with his hands in his pockets and kikoru salutes, it's like instinct at this point. "captain. i was just checking to see if (name)-san is in here."
+ "for what?"
+ kikoru shows him your phone. she makes sure its face down so your phone doesn't automatically light up and display the glorious mug of narumi. "i think she left her phone in the training room. i wanted to return it to her."
+ "(name)?" he asks. he extends his hand. "i'll give it to her, you go back."
+ "are you sure, sir? i'm sure if i wait a little longer─"
+ "that idiot's probably in the bath turning into a prune, i'll give it to her when she's finished," he says casually. kikoru blinks but hands over your phone to him all the same.
+ she leaves and narumi makes his way back to his room. he clicks the power button of your phone and instantly, your wallpaper, his face, springs up and the sound he makes─he genuinely squawks because this is the most unflattering revolting picture or angle you could ever take.
+ "(name), you little─" he seethes to himself. he's right next to his room, but he leans against the wall and like lightning, stabs the numbers of your password to unlock your phone. "i'm going to change it to your face, see how you like it."
+ but as he swipes to find settings, he pauses, his finger hovering over your screen. you have an app that he can recognise from anywhere.
+ his brows crinkle and without hesitation, he taps on it and the all too familiar loading screen launches. luckily, he's alone in the hallway since everyone else has something else to attend to. even hasegawa ditched him a few hours ago for a meeting.
+ as the loading circle fades away, he finds himself grinning to himself. he's not totally sure what to expect, but when you come to his room this evening, he's eager to gloat about how your rank is so low and how your character looks like a turnip compared to his. he'll search for your total kaiju kills and mentally laugh because it's so embarrassing. he's so looking forward to how your face will go red when he flaunts his scores. you'll both have to ignore the '#2', but still, if it's higher than yours, it's good enough blackmail material for him.
+ the game finally loads and narumi is almost giddy with the comments he already has planned to shit on you, but he takes the fattest, fattest pause once he sees your character. the character with the crazy sharp spear attached to her back, a huge hood over your head. those knee-high boots, the bracelet, the belt.
+ and that giant-ass crown. the golden one. the champion's one.
+ narumi gapes. he goes silent. it's you.
+ you're the one who's been absolutely beating his ass back to front, head to toe, cheek to cheek.
+ he doesn't know how long he's frozen for, he's so bewildered that he's actually caught off guard when a hand touches his shoulder.
+ "gen? what are you doing outside your room?"
+ narumi spins around and comes to face to face with you. your hair's slightly wet and your face glows from your lovely post-skincare. if it wasn't for how . . . ethereal─in his eyes─you looked, he would've shattered your phone on the spot right there and demanded to know whatever this was on your screen.
+ your eyes flicker down to his hands. his are glued to yours.
+ "oh," is all you can say. you look up at him and throw a small smile. "surprise?"
+ without a second, narumi grabs your hand and roughly pulls you into his room. the door slams without a moment to spare and he pins your phone to your head. his face looms above yours like he's interrogating you. honestly, you get to see this good-looking face this close when others can't. you are not complaining.
+ "you're 'narumis_eyeball'?!" he exclaims. his fingers dig into your screen. you can't see it, but you're sure there's going to be a dent there now. a repair shop might not be enough for this.
+ "what, would you have preferred it if i was 'narumis_ass'? it doesn't sound as cool," you reply, stifling a laugh because narumi looks way too serious right now. his eyes look as though they're about to pop off his face. "what?! i can't appreciate my man?!"
+ "you can appreciate me by stop beating my ass!" he snaps. he rips the phone away from your face and swipes through your character profile. you wish you have a camera because the expression he makes when he sees your stats and kills is so priceless. you could sell these and become a millionaire.
+ "you're kidding," he breathes, finger scrolling like it's on autopilot. you watch his eyes and mouth grow wider by the second. "fifty-three─"
+ "sixty-three honju kills," you add helpfully. you prop yourself up so that your chin is resting on his arm. he doesn't move. "seven daikaiju kills. gen, at this point," you chortle, tapping his cheek to get his attention, "you should give the first division control over to me. hasegawa might actually grow some hair back."
+ narumi makes a noise. "this is misconduct."
+ "hey, you're the one who always goes around screaming 'i don't care about incompetence! show me results!' i'm showing you the results!" you argue, your tone teasing and playful.
+ "results don't mean beating me and you could've chosen any other name," he says.
+ "ok, 'narumis_gf' was taken. what do you want?!"
+ he grunts and sits down with a huff. honestly. "how much yen do you have?"
+ "i'm not buying you any more stuff from yamazon─"
+ "in-game, dumbass!"
+ "oh, more than what i have in real life, i guess."
+ he taps on settings and then the small pencil icon next to your name. you shuffle over so that your chin is now on his shoulder. together, you're hunched over your phone as you watch narumi desperately tap away to change your name.
+ "narumi's . . . " you trail off, but you sneak a closer look, "wife?!"
+ "shut up, that's not the only thing i'm changing."
+ again, he goes into your character customisation and within seconds, your entire gear is swapped to everything that's associated with him. he even buys the 'narumi wig', which was surprisingly cheap much to his chagrin, and weapon. so, in two seconds, your character that you designed to be a beautiful badass is now a clumsy mess of clown-like hair, weird eyes and a weapon too big for your frame.
+ "i look ridiculous," you scoff. maybe the only thing you're satisfied with is the new name . . . but everything apart from that makes you look as pathetic as narumi's #2.
+ "shut up! this is what you deserve! i'm taking back my crown!"
+ "you never had it to begin with. it's always been mine."
+ "hah, what's yours is mine." he boots up the game on his phone and nudges you. he acts all tough, he acts like it's really bothering him, but he doesn't move when you nestle close to him. "i'll show you the real champion, you'll still never be able to beat the real me."
─
should i make a pt.2?? get some real action ^_^ let me know
☆ share six of your favourite fictional crushes !!
characters → : KAI ANDERSON・ahs: cult | ADRIAN CHASE・peacemaker | PATRICK BATEMAN・american psycho | SUGURU GETO・jjk | NAOYA ZEN’IN・jjk | DOUMA・kny
i have nothing to say for myself. adrian is mad cute tho !!
🏷 thx for the tag @bohnerrific69 | no pressure my loves: @dollykimi. @cupidstrace. @telleroftime. @sugurusladyknightt. @blushhbambi. @illumoria. @strawb3rrystar. @dearlizzies + anyone who sees this and wants to join :)
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Eight years ago, you and SATORU GOJO adopted two of his students, Yuji and Megumi. Since then, your family has only grown as more adopted and biological children filled the walls of your big, welcoming house. But time passes, and as your children grow older and older, so do you and your loving husband.
What is life like for the chaotic Gojo family as time goes on?
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MDNI — fem reader, canonverse, fluff, brief smut (mainly suggestive), angst, underage drinking, death, mentions of depression, descriptions of wounds, brief mentions of attempted kidnapping, & child neglect. Satoru is a great dad & husband, of course!
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 16k (:
♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn't necessary, just recommended. || ribbon dividers by @/cursed-carmine
“She said yes!”
The news was followed by applause, shouts of praise, and a carousel of hugs that began the very second Yuji Itadori stepped into the big living room and delivered the news.
“Oh, I’m so happy for you,” you wrapped your arms around your boy — no, that wasn’t the right word. Not anymore. The person who stood before you, towered over you at twenty-three years of age, was a man.
“Thanks, Mom. I was shaking like a leaf.”
“I was too when I proposed to that woman right there,” Satoru, who sat on one of the couches, grinned in your direction and gave a nod of his head, a look of nostalgic satisfaction flickering within his eyes.
“I knew I wanted to propose to Yuko the same way you proposed to Mom, but I didn’t think that meant I’d almost pass out, just like you,” Yuji made his way over to one of the couches, collapsing in the comfortable, empty spot beside Megumi. He sighed with relief. “It’s funny. You talk about getting married, having a future, and whatnot, but when it’s actually time to get down on one knee? Scariest moment of my life.”
“Well, since you went through with it, we’ll be celebrating tomorrow!” You smiled brightly, sitting down in a seat across from everyone else.
What a beautiful sight it was — albeit a rare one — having all of your children together, in one house.
Yuji and Megumi, the sorcerers you adopted eight years ago, had both moved out within the last three years. Though they stopped by quite often — loving the grin that would appear on your face whenever they stepped through your double front doors — nothing compared to waking up every morning and seeing their early-bird smiles as they roamed around the kitchen way back when.
“Sounds great,” Yuji beamed, and whenever he did grin so brightly, it was a showcase of his former, boyish self.
The pink-haired sorcerer turned his attention towards his tween sister sitting on the floor nearest their father’s leg, her own long legs shifting into various positions — pulling one knee up to her chest, both, then stretching out, then sitting criss-crossed.
“So, how was school this week, Maya?” Yuji paused. “Tell me all the chaos.”
“School’s school. Next play hasn’t been picked out yet, but I’m gonna start practicing anyway, ‘cause I wanna get the lead. Oh, and guess who got laughed at in band class the other day ‘cause their clarinet squeaked, like, three times? Me. It wasn’t my fault! It’s these stupid braces,” Maya frowned. Even her words carried a bit of a lisp thanks to the brackets and wires running along her teeth.
“You just gotta get used to them, Muffin. You’ll be able to play, eat, and talk just fine in a couple of weeks, promise.” Satoru glanced down at the girl beside him as he spoke, and she looked up with a playful glare.
“We’re not friends right now, Dad.”
“Not friends?” Yuji interrupted, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “What did I miss? Dad, what’d you do?”
“Nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all,” Satoru said defensively.
“Liesss,” Maya turned her body to better face her dad — or her newest enemy, rather — and Yuji. “So, I asked dad if I could dye my hair and he said no, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Yuji nodded.
“But I thought that maybe, if I got good grades, helped out around the house more, yadda yadda yadda, he’d change his mind. But he still said no. Wait, no, hold on, I got it wrong. He said no ‘cause mom said no first. He would’ve said yes if I asked him first, which, like, is worse than your answer being no from the start. Like, you only said no ‘cause mom said no? It’s not fair.”
“Maya, I’m just not comfortable with you dying your hair until you’re a teenager,” you said.
“Sucks to be twelve, huh?” Yuji looked at her sympathetically, and she nodded.
But she didn’t give up hope.
The girl turned her body in the direction of the quiet, dark-haired man dressed in all black, who was listening along to the conversation with a small, pleasant grin upon his face, his elbow propped up on the armrest of the couch, knuckles pressing into his cheek.
“Megumi,” she called out. “My favorite sibling of them all, the great and wise, tell me, do you think I’m too young to dye my hair?”
“Why do you want to dye it? It looks fine.” Megumi eyed the waves of white locks that flowed from her head — a passed-down Gojo trait, without a doubt.
“No one has white hair,” Maya pouted a bit. “Even I didn’t have white hair at first! I had mom’s hair ‘til I got older and it started to change. I’m already taller than Bigfoot and stick out a ton ‘cause of that. Having white hair just makes it worseee. I look like the Yeti. I mean, it’s not like I was gonna dye it a crazy color, just something less freaky looking. I wish I still had your hair color, momma.”
“Let me guess, next, you’re going to ask for contacts because you hate the eye color you inherited from your old man, hm?” Satoru pressed his hand against his chest, faking a wounded state, as if Maya’s words had stabbed him through the heart. “I helped create one of the prettiest girls in the entire world, passed on all of my best qualities, and she wants to dye her hair and chop off her legs.”
“Hey, don’t talk like that, there are children present,” you waved a finger at your husband, then pointed at the six-year-old fraternal boy-girl twins, Kenji and Kaia, — the girl looking every bit like a mini you while your son favored Satoru in every way — who were heavily invested in their coloring books, sprawled out across the living room rug.
“I heard it!” Kaia shouted.
“Unhear it, princess,” Satoru scratched the side of his head. “You don’t need that imagery in your head before bed.”
“What’s an im-ger-y?” Kenji asked softly, tilting his head a bit, halting his neat coloring of a firetruck. Though his question was a response to Satoru’s words, he looked at Megumi — his favorite person of all — for answers.
“Visual stuff. Things you can see.”
“I’m coloring Yuji because I miss Yuji and, um . . . I love Yuji a lot,” Kaia mumbled randomly, though she was, in fact, not coloring Yuji. It was a picture of a tiger that she dragged her pink crayon across. Close enough.
“Megumiii, help me convince them!” Maya, still upset about not being able to dye her hair, carried on.
In her eyes, she didn’t carry her father’s traits as well as he did. The white hair, blue eyes, and taller-than-average height all worked for him like day and night. Sand and the sea.
But it wasn’t as common for a girl to be tall, especially when her limited views of society were confined to that of a big building surrounded by fellow twelve-year-olds, ones who judged each other quite harshly.
And her hair wasn’t exactly as silky, smooth, or cooperative as her father's. It was massive, which wasn’t a problem in itself, as she quite liked the size of it sometimes, but all the products her friends recommended her didn’t seem to work.
Not only did it, oddly enough, change colors with age — but in a world where someone like Yuji could be born with pinkish hair, perhaps it wasn’t that surprising — but she often grew frustrated with it, almost to the point of tears as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, because at the very least — the very least — if she had to have an odd natural hair color, she wanted it to look nice.
But, it always looked rather pretty when you did it. You seemed to have some sort of magic, motherly touch that she wasn’t capable of capturing just yet. But some mornings, you were working at the children’s home you owned. And other mornings, she wanted to be independent. She wanted to do it herself. She wasn’t a little kid anymore.
You promised her that such obstacles were normal for her age, but even so, she eyed the boxed dye at the stores whenever you went shopping. She sadly gazed at photos from early childhood, jealous of the grinning, Barbie-obsessed little girl with chubby cheeks, her mother’s hair, and two big brothers who still lived at home.
“How about we go to the hair salon this weekend? I’m still saying no to dye, but they could give you a cute hairstyle, maybe help us find ways to take care of your hair when I’m too busy.”
Maya perked up instantly, whipping around to face you as you spoke, her blue eyes going wide. “Seriously?”
“I’ve been meaning to take you for a little while now. Let’s have a girls’ day. Get your hair done, go shopping, grab lunch-”
“Oh my god, I’m so excited! Ahh!” Maya shrieked happily, nearly bouncing off the floor in pure excitement. “Thanks, mom!”
Suddenly, another member of the Gojo family’s quiet footsteps could be heard against the freshly mopped floors as he made his way into the living room, carrying a bag across his shoulder.
“Ready.” Tomoya pushed up on his big glasses, his soft voice serving as a harsh contrast compared to Maya’s, so much so that he almost went unheard — but the fellow quiet, dark-haired member of the family heard him.
“Don’t forget your toothbrush,” Megumi looked up at the twelve-year-old from where he sat.
It was almost like staring into a mirror. Truly, the only difference between Megumi and Tomoya was that Tomoya’s hair was flatter, his skin had gotten a bit tanner as he aged, and, of course, he wore glasses.
But, at the age of twenty-three, Megumi’s hair had gotten a bit flatter, truth be told. It wasn’t quite as spiky as it used to be — stuck somewhere between the hairstyle his teenage self had, and that of his fathers.
Even so, it was rather funny how, though he and Tomoya weren’t related, they seemed to resemble each other both in appearance and personality.
And, according to your worried phone calls, in their fair share of troubles as well.
It was to be expected. Once Tomoya became old enough to think to himself, “hey, my childhood was pretty messed up,” to realize that his birth parents treated him like shit, and yet, fought to take him away from the adoptive parents who found his hungry, dirty, and abandoned self at the park six years ago, who treated him like royalty; it was too much sometimes.
There came a point last year when his birth mother discovered that he often liked to visit the crafts store for art supplies.
He didn’t recognize her. He could only remember the hunger, the coldness, the loneliness, but not her. His mind blocked out any memory of the people inflicted it upon him — not that he had very many memories to begin with. The neglect only happened because his folks were hardly around, after all.
So, when a woman who feigned weakness claimed she needed help getting two easels into the back of her truck, Tomoya was kind enough to help her. He didn’t have time to question why a man with a face so similar to his own was lurking around the car, yet, not helping the woman he appeared to be with.
It was then that the boy realized neither one of them had any interest in loading the easels into their opened trunk, but him.
Shock ripped away his ability to scream, much like trauma once stripped away his desire to talk beyond a couple of words a day.
But, thank goodness his father — not the man who helped create him, but the white-haired sorcerer he shared a last name with — was the one who brought him to the craft store in the first place.
He couldn’t remember much after Satoru Gojo showed up and his potential kidnappers were hurled to the ground in an instant, just as he was partially in the trunk and his glasses tumbled from his face.
He only remembered warmth as he grabbed Satoru out of pure relief, the feeling of Satoru’s dark work uniform pressed against the side of his head, and Satoru wrapping his long arms tightly around his trembling frame, telling him repeatedly that it was okay. He was safe now.
How long had he hugged Satoru? Hours, it seemed. All he knew was that he closed his eyes and clung to him whilst they were still in the parking lot, awaiting the police’s arrival, and he didn’t let go until he had been home for a long while.
But Satoru didn’t mind. Never once did he shuffle or sigh as a small polite hint towards annoyance. He only held the crying boy for as long as he needed it.
Megumi could hear the worry in your voice during the frequent phone calls that came during the following weeks. According to you, Tomoya had started to talk less, retreating into the shell of his former self who hardly spoke. His art had changed as well. He found himself painting more, truth be told, but the artwork represented the dark moments of his life: the ribs of a man. Hunger. A person standing in the rain. Abandonment. Crumbled missing posters. Kidnapping.
Attempting to bond with the tween was Megumi’s idea.
After all, he was a similar age when he too struggled with the sick, twisted thing called life. And, upon further reflection now that he was twenty-three, and could properly consider himself to be a happy person, he figured that, perhaps, what Tomoya needed was something Megumi had once gone without: someone who was similar to him. Someone who understood his pain.
“You’re leaving already?” You tried to hide the sadness in your voice. Never had you wanted to make your children feel guilty for having their own lives, but you couldn’t help it. You so desperately missed having everyone under the same roof, even for fleeting moments.
“It’s getting late. But don’t worry,” Megumi rose from the couch. “We’ll see you tomorrow. All of us.”
A smile returned to your face.
It was for the best, perhaps, as the entire point of Tomoya spending the night at Megumi’s place was so they could bond in a calm, quiet environment.
Goodbyes were exchanged. Yuji stayed for an extra half hour, and left with a couple of to-go plates filled to the brim with dinners he missed out on — he missed your cooking — and with that, they were gone with the promises of seeing you, Satoru, and their other siblings tomorrow.
—
Tomoya had been to Megumi’s apartment before. It was a few years ago, when you all helped him load in his boxed belongings and new furniture. You then cooked a celebratory dinner in his modern kitchen.
But now, without the group of Gojo’s crowding the place, Tomoya could see it for what it really was. It was one of the newer apartments closer to the city — closer to everything.
“I like to walk places rather than drive or take public transportation,” Megumi said, shutting the door behind his brother, as if reading his mind.
It screamed of newness, an environment that seemed sterile enough that Tomoya couldn’t help but wonder if Megumi actually lived here, as the only sign of life was Tomoya and Megumi themselves.
And the folded note on the corner of his marble kitchen island.
Flicking on a light, Megumi smiled at the sight of the note. He walked over, opened it, and saw his partner’s neat handwriting informing him of a long, overnight shift as a nurse — though Megumi already knew — along with good luck wishes towards Yuji regarding his proposal.
Soon enough, it would be Megumi’s turn to propose.
And he could imagine the quaint ceremony now.
But he had to shake those thoughts away and return his attention to the dark-haired boy standing awkwardly near a high stool, as if he was scared to put his backpack down in the wrong spot.
“You can set your bag on the couch,” Megumi nodded in the direction of the living room, then turned his back to open his stainless steel fridge. “I don’t compare to our mother, but I’m not a bad cook. You still like ginger chicken, same as me, right?”
Tomoya gave a tiny hum in response.
—
The tantalizing aroma of sizzling chicken and broccoli filled Tomoya’s nostrils as he sat in the middle stool at the kitchen island, letting his pencil strike paper as he worked on a couple of sketches.
Megumi gave the dish one quick stir before turning around to face the tween briefly.
His shoulders seemed relaxed. Perhaps, being able to draw, the smell of a familiar meal, and the comfortable silence eased his anxiety. Megumi’s eyes darted down to Tomoya’s socked feet, and the sight of him feeling at peace, so much so that he was okay with removing his shoes, made a small grin appear on his face.
“Megumi?” Tomoya called out.
“Hm?”
Tomoya appreciated the way his brother didn’t have a big, overdone reaction to hearing him speak. He only continued to stir their dinner with his back turned. While most reacted to Tomoya speaking first to spark a conversation with oohs and ahhs as if he never spoke at all, Megumi didn’t appear surprised, as if Tomoya was a chatterbox and this was a regular occurrence.
“Why’d you ask me to spend the night?” Pushing up on his glasses, Tomoya then twirled his pencil around in his hand.
“I heard that you were going through a rough time. I know what that is like. I’m a bit of an expert against my will, so I wanted to show you that I’m here for you.”
“Hm . . .” Tomoya mumbled.
Megumi turned off the stove. As he spoke, he opened a cabinet and pulled down two glass plates. “Listen. Bad things happen more often than we’d like them to. It’s okay to feel sad or angry, and it’s okay if it takes a while before you start to feel like yourself again. There’s nothing wrong with needing help, either. I started therapy when I was just a few years older than you are now. But, if that sounds terrifying right now, our parents are great listeners. I am too.”
“What was life like when you were younger?”
Megumi scooped out a hefty serving of ginger chicken, veggies, and a side of rice. As he placed it in front of Tomoya, he thought about it all. His biological parents. Curses. Depression. Abandonment. Medication. Dark thoughts. Half-hearted attempts at dying.
Nothing new.
Megumi said, “I’ll tell you. But, as I do, I need you to remember one thing. I am happy now.”
Tomoya grabbed his fork, softly stabbed the tender meat, and nodded. Megumi began to speak.
—
The day of Yuji’s wedding was one filled with tears, divine food, and heartwarming speeches. Friends and family surrounded him and Yuko — everyone from his old classmates to the friends of his parents whom he considered relatives were there.
And while many people passed on well wishes to the bride and groom, Yuji found himself holding his wife’s hand, and making a wish of his own: that he and his lover would have a relationship as beautiful as his parents, who slowly, happily danced together in the distance.
—
Satoru guided a fork covered in a bite of wedding cake towards your open mouth.
It was around midnight when you bit into the moist dessert. There was too much leftover cake for Yuji and Yuko to handle, but luckily, there were plenty of to-go boxes, and your sweets-loving husband made sure to pack plenty.
The two of you were in the dimly lit kitchen, hovering over the kitchen island, taking turns chatting about nothing and feeding each other cake while still dressed in your formal clothes.
“It’s been a long time, and I regret nothing.” Satoru stroked away a bit of frosting stuck to your bottom lip with his thumb. “I knew I couldn’t talk my folks out of throwing us an old, boring, traditional wedding, so what was my solution?”
“Have a second one,” you both said in unison. Your shared words were followed by a bit of soft laughter.
“I mean, no cake, no music, no dancing, it was awful. There was no way I was gonna have a wedding but not dance with my wife. My clan’s crazy. I’m not surprised, though. These were the same people who wouldn’t let me have a childhood.” Satoru said, eyeing the cake-covered fork you brought to his lips.
“I thought they were going to make us get a divorce when they found out we threw a second wedding without them. I still remember your grandfather’s face when he saw the photos.” You paused. “I’m glad we’re cool enough parents to understand that our kids are adults, and therefore, they can have any kind of wedding they want. They can move out, have children . . . no pressure to visit home if they don’t want to.”
“You miss ‘em.”
“Is that a statement or a question?” You smiled sadly. Cake no longer seemed appetizing. “Guess it doesn’t matter, does it? But yes, I do. More than I thought I would. I feel so selfish, though. It’s not like they don’t visit home, they visit us more than the average person experiencing independence for the first time visits home, and it’s not like they up and left as soon as they turned eighteen, I still had them for a few more years after that, but still. I didn’t appreciate having all of my kids under one roof enough.”
“I hear you, baby,” The cake was nothing more than a memory as Satoru spoke. He moved behind you, wrapped his arms around you, and hugged you from behind. In that moment, all you knew, all you could take in, was his scent and the lingering taste of cake. “You know I hate tradition, but I kinda miss the times when kids stayed home until they got married. Sometimes, they didn’t leave even then. They just moved their spouse into their parents’ place with them. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get through it. Our boys never stay away for long. And you know the Gojo house is never a quiet house, so you’ll never, ever be lonely, even when you wish you could be.”
“Speaking of kids, the other day, Yuko was telling me how much she wants children. Can you imagine us becoming grandparents already?” Lying your head back against his chest, you continued, “We’re not even forty yet. Hell, we have two six-year-olds! It’s crazy!”
“Does it scare you? Knowing we’re getting older?” Satoru’s voice took on a low tone, one similar to what you often heard during your late-night chatters — it hit you then that, even though you both weren’t warm in your bed, this was no different.
“I think technically having kids who are twenty-three at the oldest and six at the youngest has put me in this weird spot mentally to where I have no concept of my own age. I truly don’t know how to answer that question. What about you?”
“I think it’s great,” Satoru shrugged. “It’s rare for a sorcerer to live a long life. Not that we’ve lived a long life, you and me, but I hope we live long, long, long lives. And that we die together somehow so neither one of us has to miss the other.”
“Woah, that was pretty dark.”
“Well, on a lighter note, when my hair turns completely gray, no one will notice much since it’s already white.”
Having been madly in love with the man since your teenage years, it was quite easy to look past his attempt at humor, to know that there was something deeper buried beneath his words. “Satoru, do you think about which one of us will die first often?”
“Yes.” He whispered against the top of your head. “More than I’d like to admit.”
“Is there anything I can do to get you to stop worrying about it when we’re only thirty-six?”
“Nope. Sorry. It’s a dangerous world, tomorrow’s not guaranteed to anyone. Worrying about the love of my life is just what comes with having a love of your life.”
Your body went stiff in his arms. He felt it and pulled you tighter against him as a result.
“Oh? You like when I call you that?” He asked.
“You know I do. It, unlike us, will never get old.”
“Come here,” Satoru turned you around. There you were, pressed between the kitchen island and your husband, who had an appetite for more than cake, as it would seem.
One would have thought that you were the dessert your sugar-loving husband was devouring when he pressed his lips against yours.
That man had never known an ounce of shame. Never before had he subscribed to the stupid ideology of men muffling their moans, holding themselves back — no. Hell no.
He was madly in love with you, and he’d rather die than hide how badly he wanted to be with you, inside of you, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you. You, you, you.
His hands roamed across your dress, touching and grabbing everything from your head, your back, to the curve of your ass, and those soft lips of his were just as adventurous, pressing against your neck as you fought to say, “Satoru, the kids are sleeping, we can’t.”
“Can’t what?” He mumbled against your skin. “I’m just trying to help my beautiful wife get out of her beautiful dress. These zippers can be tricky sometimes.”
The sound of your dress coming undone filled the silence as his fingers found your zipper, but your eyes found the archway of your kitchen, and suddenly, you couldn’t help but wonder if your little prince, Kenji, would sneak his way downstairs. That child was identical to Satoru in terms of appearance and a love of sugar — his eyes seemed to glow whenever you gave him a cup of watered-down juice — but, unlike his father and his twin sister, Kenji was as quiet as a mouse. He’d appear in the blink of an eye, all the while you didn’t hear the gentle pats of his feet.
Satoru lifted you, sitting you on the kitchen island where the cake wasn’t, and busied his hands with tugging down your dress while his lips trailed kisses along your collarbone, which held faint scents of a perfume that drove him crazy.
“Satoru, Kenji has your sweet tooth, he could come down here, trying to sneak a bite of cake.”
“Excuses, excuses. Are our kids sleeping or trying to eat cake? Which is it?” Satoru pulled away from you. But not in defeat. Just so he could see the look on your face when he pressed his hand in between your thighs, feeling the slick wetness coating your underwear. “You’re a mess, honey.”
Those long fingers of his hooked around the fabric. He stretched it out a bit, then released it, letting it smack against you gently in a way that sent a shiver of need up your spine. Your hole clenched around nothing. Your clit ached with the desire to be sucked, touched, anything.
“Guess I should leave you like this all night then, yeah? Maybe . . .” he paused, grabbing your hand, pressing your fingers against his mouth, kissing your fingertips. “Maybe I should let my own wife try to satisfy herself with her fingers, which aren’t nearly as long as mine. Sounds like a pathetic orgasm waiting to happen, but that’s what you want, right?”
“No,” you said softly.
“No?” He smirked a bit. Then, like a plumber peering at broken pipes, trying to figure out the solution to a leaky situation, Satoru hiked your dress all the way up to your hips, staring at the wet, inviting patch. He rubbed his fingers up and down, up and down, gracing your clit, teasing your hole, and watching you tremble. “We should go to the guest room then and keep things nice and quiet.”
“If,” you gulped. “If I end up having to gag you with your own blindfold again, no sex for three months.”
Satoru’s smirk widened. He lifted you off the kitchen island with ease and started to carry you, bridal style, to the furthest corner of the massive house. “Don’t worry, it’s kinda hard to be loud when your head’s buried between someone’s thighs.”
—
The same man who devoured your pussy with great expertise — and impatience, as he didn’t bother to fully remove your underwear, only pushing them to the side — all until you came repeatedly, giving him something to slurp up like it was his final meal, was the same one who held you close that night, stroking the skin of your forehead and nose with his fingertip.
“You still like me, right?” He asked with a little frown.
“Satoru, I’ve been officially known as Mrs. Gojo for almost seventeen years. I deal with your snoring, you trying to put the mugs that are to be hand-washed in the dishwasher, and our house smelling like meat all night long because you bought an indoor grill, all because I still like you. Very, very much. Call me crazy, but some would even say I love you. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Love me, or in love with me? ‘Cause there’s a difference,” Satoru leaned up on his elbow, practically hovering over you, that frown deepening.
“May I ask why you’re feeling insecure right now?” You curiously smiled up at him.
“Remember when I was eating you out earlier?”
“I . . . yes, I remember.”
“Well, you were moaning my name, which sounded beautiful, by the way, but it hit me that you don’t really call me ‘Toru like you used to when we were younger. You haven’t done it in years. Why’d you stop? If you hate me, just be honest.”
“You’re so dramatic. I still do sometimes, but I mainly only did it when I was a teenager,” you shook your head at him, rolling over onto your side. “I just prefer your full name. It’s you in every way. Does that make sense?”
“No, but I’ll pretend it does, because I’m madly in love with you.” Satoru pulled you close, letting your back hit his chest as you laughed softly. He mumbled, like it was a prayer, “love of my life.”
— FOUR YEARS LATER —
The state-of-the-art computer within Gojo’s home office showed the latest assignment submitted by the fresh crop of first-year students. His blindfolded eyes scanned over what was an essay about the importance of camaraderie, what to do when your partner’s life is in danger, and general mission safety.
This kid can turn a curse inside out but used the wrong form of there, Satoru thought, sighing as he leaned back in his leather office chair. That’s Jujutsu High for you.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door, and he smiled, knowing who it was.
“Door’s open,” he said.
In came Jujutsu High’s most cherished second year, dressed in a dirty uniform that her mother would have to mend later, not only because of the tears, but to make adjustments that would allow the tall girl to feel more comfortable.
It wasn’t surprising that the damned place would not consider that, perhaps, some of the female students would need clothing that suited those who were taller than average. And Maya was indeed quite tall. Certainly taller than the uniform designers predicted, as they could not imagine any woman being above the height of 5’4”. 5’6”, at most. But here Maya Gojo was, standing at a bewildering 5’11” at just sixteen years of age, and no one knew if she was finished growing.
Even as she stepped into the home office, Satoru noticed the way she naturally hunched over a bit, as if to make herself seem smaller, her arms wrapped around her frame.
“Hey, Dad.”
“How was the mission, Muffin? Are you hurt?” Satoru rose from his desk.
He approached his daughter, pulling her in for a long hug — a daily ritual, but even more so after a mission. However, when he wrapped his arms around her, she flinched.
Satoru pulled away quickly, staring. Maya couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew that, behind that blindfold, he was taking in her information, monitoring her on another level for any clue as to why she was acting this way.
“Sorry, it’s just been a seriously long, long day, but I’m fine, cross my heart and hope to die.” Maya faked a laugh. Her identical eyes wouldn’t meet his.
She looked at everything else — the crowded bookshelf. The painting on the wall. The chairs. The nearly empty mug of half-cold coffee her dear dad was sipping on.
But her dear dad only stared at the leaves and sticks in her black-dyed hair. The smears of dirt and faint scratches along her skin. The quivering corners of her mouth.
“Talk to me,” he said softly.
Her eyes met his then. “Please don’t tell Mom.”
Her hushed tone, her desperate plea — it was a father’s worst nightmare.
Maya reached down with trembling hands, gripping the bottom of her torn skirt.
Slowly, she raised it, revealing soaked layers upon layers of red cloth that did a poor job at bandaging whatever monstrous wound was beneath it. It must have been the work of her teammate, as the placement of the cloth was a telltale sign of panic, but even so, it got the job done, for a short period of time, at least. It showcased the very subjects that Satoru was making his students write about right now.
How to care for your fellow sorcerers.
Maya’s small movements made more blood trickle down her thigh.
While the cloth held on, did its best, it wasn’t a permanent solution. The poor girl was in pain. And she was losing blood right before Satoru’s eyes, and he felt his limbs go weak at the sight.
He didn’t bother with questions. That would come later.
For now, he only scooped her up as if the tall teenager weighed nothing, and carried her to one of the bathrooms with the most medical supplies.
Having raised sorcerers, having seen Megumi, Yuji, or even a number of his students show up at his doorstep with similar wounds, had forced Satoru to learn a thing or two from Shoko.
He sat Maya on the edge of the bathtub. Slowly, carefully, he removed the work of her teammate, and he wanted to cry.
The wound was deep. Too deep for him to handle at home.
It was a horizontal gash along her upper thigh, one that was seemingly so painful, the fact that she was walking around with such an injury was a testament to her strength.
She was the daughter of the world’s strongest sorcerer, after all.
But that was little comfort to anyone.
His girl was a special-grade. No surprise there. And she had been training since she was a child.
Therefore, as Satoru hooked his arms around the girl that was now much too lightheaded to protest being taken to the place she knew, deep in her heart, she’d end up, Satoru asked the question he wasn’t certain he wanted the answer to: “What happened?”
“What happened is . . . I’m just not you, Dad. Everyone thinks I am. The higher-ups s-send me on missions I’m not ready for, and I can’t . . . I can’t stand it. I’m not the Gojo anyone wants or needs. You are.”
When the forty-year-old man frowned down at the girl he carried, the grief upon his face made him seem much older.
“Sweet girl, I wish I could say a leg wound was the worst of my injuries when I was your age. I almost died. Megumi’s father almost killed me and your mother, you know that. Don’t compare your current self to who I am now. You would kick my sixteen-year-old self’s ass, I promise you.” Satoru grabbed his car keys that sat on a hallway dresser in the foyer. “You’re gonna need stitches. That’s something I won’t risk trying to do here. I know you don’t wanna go to the hospital, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Satoru carried her to the car and buckled her in. When he got into the driver’s seat, he reached for his phone, and she knew what that meant.
—
Though your phone rang, you didn’t hear it.
Do Not Disturb was the only setting you dared to have your phone set to while working at your children’s home. It was way past bedtime, the kids having earned the privilege of staying up a little later because The Mrs. Gojo was here, and you had just finished reading the last page of the adventurous picture book about magical sea creatures.
No notification would ever interrupt reading time, you swore it.
Though you owned the children’s home, it wasn’t necessarily your full-time job. You were a stay-at-home mother first. However, being that the youngest of your children, the twins, were now ten, in school most of their days, and the only babies and toddlers you had to worry about were your grandchildren whenever Yuji would bring his adorable three year old and newborn by every now and then, you had a bit more free time to work at the children’s home and truly establish a relationship with the orphans receiving care under your name.
Things had been peaceful for the most part.
Both of your boys were approaching thirty.
Megumi and his partner had been happily married for a while now. They weren’t interested in having children, which was fine, and they enjoyed their quiet lives, while — as a sorcerer and nurse couple — they saved lives on a daily basis.
Yuji and Yuko had moved houses twice. Nothing seemed quite big enough, and not because of greed, but rather, because they seemed to want to contribute to the Gojo legacy of having lots and lots of children.
Every other Gojo was easily within your reach, being watched over by Satoru himself, and therefore, you felt comfortable silencing your device and giving the children who had nothing in the world, not even parents, your undivided attention.
Once you closed the picture book with a small thud and endured the sad awww’s from the small frowning faces sitting on the rug below you, the children then lined up, coming up to hug you goodnight one by one.
The last child wrapped her little arms around you before running off in Yuta’s direction, who was currently responsible for making sure each and every one of them made it to bed.
He was a natural with children. For years, he had taken a part-time position at your children’s home, more so when curses weren’t active and he had the time to help out. But even he was doing well in life, having started his own family with Maki.
“Get home safe!” Yuta said, hugging you goodbye.
“Thank you! Have a good night,” you grinned, leaving the cozy building, and taking the bunny ears that you wore for the kid’s entertainment off of your sore head.
You hopped in the car. Tossed the bunny ears in the empty passenger spot. Adjusted your seat. Put on your seatbelt. Set the heater to your desired temperature.
All before you pulled out your phone and noticed three missed calls from your husband.
—
Maya was fine.
She was badly wounded, earning a trip to the ER, but as far as injuries go in the name of what most sorcerers faced, what she received was equivalent to a little push on the playground. Truth be told, the bruise to her ego was worse.
And knowing that her parents, who supported her dream of becoming a sorcerer but secretly prayed every night before bed that she’d decide to go into the medical field or write novels or cure cancer or plant potatoes or do anything that wasn’t killing curses and curse users for a living, would view this situation as a telltale sign that maybe, just maybe, she should reconsider her life choices made her twist and turn a bit while her thigh was carefully stitched up by a medical professional.
“There was no need to call mom, really,” Maya muttered to her father, who broke their promise — not that he ever agreed to it, nor did she truly expect him not to tell you — and she blinked up at him from where he stood at the side of the examination chair she sat in. “By the time she gets here, they’ll be all done. She should just go home, don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid to say you may be here a while, dear.” The woman tending to her wound spoke up. “You are quite dehydrated, in need of fluids, and I’m sure they’d like to monitor you a bit longer considering how much blood you have lost. Just for a few hours.”
Maya sighed, resting her head back against the crinkling, thin paper draped over her chair.
“Well, no school tomorrow, right?” Maya tried to fake another laugh, but Satoru saw right through it. He reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze, trying hard to ignore just how much pain he felt seeing his daughter in such a state.
—
“I hope the store’s still open. Everything closes so early nowadays, but if she’s going to be there for a while, I’d like to get her something to cheer her up. I just . . . I’m thankful it wasn’t worse.”
You made a right turn as you spoke to Satoru through the Bluetooth system within your car. His hushed voice came through it, as he said, “You know, lately she’s been loving-”
“Satoru, let me call you back.”
You slammed on your brakes, ending the call with haste. He would be worried, you knew it, but upon turning down a street in search of a Get Well Soon gift for Maya, you caught sight of someone who you could have sworn died years ago.
But you weren’t staring at the infamous Toji Fushiguro on the side of the road.
Suddenly, you were able to make out the somewhat softer features that made up the difference between Megumi and Toji, and you realized it was indeed your son instead, dressed in a black trench coat, headed towards a bench underneath the glow of an orange streetlight.
You parked your car, hopping out, startled.
“Megumi? Is that you?” You shut the door and approached him, not yet noticing the way his eyes were filled with worry. “My goodness, I thought I was seeing things. You looked just like your father when I was driving by. I almost hit you with my car! On purpose! What are you-” In that moment, you realized the bench he was approaching wasn’t empty.
You thought it was a homeless person.
That was, until you saw a pair of glasses sitting upside down in the grass. Limbs were hanging off the bench, and those limbs were dressed in the name-brand clothes you bought for your loved ones. For your sixteen-year-old son.
“Tomoya? What’s going on? I thought you were at home.”
Your eyes darted down to what dangled loosely within his grasp. A glass bottle. An alcoholic beverage. “Oh my god, are you drunk?”
He was in no state to respond, that much was made clear by the distant, sleepy look on his face. Soft, pained groans — emotional, not physical — escaped him instead of answers. For those, you looked up at Megumi, and he took a step forward, his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t know what happened. He called me and I just showed up.”
“Oh my goodness, this is-” you placed your hand over your mouth, stepping away in realization. In shock. Stopping your own speech so Tomoya wouldn’t hear the words that you were going to say, that you oh so regretfully thought and didn’t truly believe: This is too much.
“I’ll put him in your car,” Megumi approached the teenager until your words made him halt his footsteps.
“No, actually, I’m . . . Maya’s fine, but she got hurt on her recent mission. She’s at the hospital getting stitches.” You stopped speaking, frowning as you puzzled over the situation. Did you have to choose between watching over your drunk child or your injured one?
Satoru’s with Maya, so she’s not alone. And Tomoya really needs a parent right now. It’s not just a matter of underage drinking, but he snuck out! He’s wandering the streets at this hour, all alone! And he stole that bottle from our bar cabinet. But Maya’s at the hospital. She’s injured, dehydrated . . . but she’s not alone. Tomoya would be. I-
Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by another realization.
“Oh god, the twins! They’re home alone! Satoru left with Maya so suddenly and Tomoya was supposed to be watching over them and-”
“Hey, it’s okay, relax. They’re ten years old and they’re asleep.” Megumi approached Tomoya. After grabbing his glasses off the ground, he scooped him up as if he weighed nothing. “I can take him to your house and stay with everyone for as long as you need. Visit Maya first for a little while, then come home and see about him. You’ll feel guilty if you pick one child over the other, even if one makes more sense logically. Just know that neither one of them will be alone.”
“Thank you.” You sighed with relief, starting to walk back to Megumi’s car, trying to ignore the way your hands trembled with worry. “And . . . see if you can get some answers out of him. You’re the one he called, so he may open up to you. Megumi, I don’t know whether I should be angry or worried.”
“Both. Worried, above all.”
“Hm.” You nodded, opening his car door, allowing him to put Tomoya in his back seat. “When’d you get so wise?”
After buckling the boy in, Megumi replied, “Since this.” He raised his hand, showing off his wedding ring. “And owning a Shikoku. Trying to train that dog has turned me into a very wise person.”
Shutting the door, Megumi made his way to the driver’s side of his vehicle as you approached yours.
It was devastating to know that whatever was hurting Tomoya was bothering his soul so much that he tried to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle. But, in truth, there was a bright side. One that made Megumi’s heart smile. Tomoya, at some point, had acknowledged that he needed help, that alcohol only made life seem more scary and he couldn’t battle his demons alone, and that was the important thing.
That is what would help everyone sleep at night.
But, as Megumi took the teenager to your home, watched over him — and made sure the twins were fast asleep, even after Kenji woke up as if sensing Megumi was here and requested several hugs from him — Megumi still couldn’t wrap his mind around the simple fact that, at the end of the day, someone needed him.
—
“What a night.”
Those words slipped out from between your lips as soon as your back hit your enormous bed, though, by then, the early morning sun was starting to rise, marking dusk.
The urge to cry was nearing, as if your tears were like clockwork: any minute now . . .
But then, warm arms embraced you as they always did, soothing your chaotic mind in an almost ritualistic way. Perhaps, it was. This wasn’t your first time dealing with frightening circumstances related to parenting. That’s what came with being the mother of sorcerers, kids with troubled pasts, and everything in between.
“At least everyone’s safe and sound now,” Satoru whispered. He kissed your cheek softly. “If you ask me, if the day ends with everyone warm in their beds, it wasn’t all that bad.”
You couldn’t help but smile. The urge to cry was vanishing.
“I guess that’s all we can ask for, hm?” You turned in his arms, facing him as he held you close, as if your being, your body, was a secret he wouldn’t let go of.
— TWO WEEKS LATER —
Today was the day!
Soon, and so soon, that all the food in preparation for the get-together was almost done, the Gojo house would be packed to the brim with people. Loved ones.
Satoru figured that, after what happened with Maya and Tomoya, both you and his kids would benefit from a friendly reminder that you all weren’t alone in the universe. So, he made phone calls. Sent emails.
Found a day in which everyone — from his children, to in-laws, to grandchildren, to his old students, to friends, to family — could carve out the free time to pop up at the Gojo house for a couple of hours. Or all day long.
A little while before guests were set to arrive, you scooped up a ball of chocolate-chip cookie dough with your hand.
“Alright my prince and princess, it’s your turn,” you instructed the twins standing at the kitchen island on either side of you, the three of you wearing matching aprons. “Roll them into a smooth ball. That’s how we make them nice and soft on the inside.”
Their smaller hands reached into the bowl, copying your movements.
“Hitting double digits means we learn the super secret recipe, cool.” Kaia grinned with a smile that matched yours in every way possible as she eagerly rolled the dough.
“Can I eat the dough?” Kenji looked up at you with a pout so similar to your husband’s, but spoke with a softness to his voice that was all his own.
“I made you both some edible cookie dough earlier. It’s in the fridge,” you placed the cookie dough ball on the lined baking sheet.
The twins cheered. Suddenly, a tall woman entered the kitchen with a baby in her arms, and though you smiled up at Yuko and she smiled back, but the grin didn’t reach her eyes.
“You alright, honey?” You asked.
“Sorry! I just, um,” Yuko glanced down at the baby. “She won’t stop crying. Well, she’s not crying right now, but she’s only quiet because Yuji put her to sleep. I swear, you’d think I was pinching her with the way she cries around me, but not her father.”
Stepping away from the kitchen island as the twins carried out the mission of prepping the cookies, you headed for the sink, washing and drying your hands as you spoke. “Oh, it’s not you, trust me. Yuji’s just great with children. When Kaia was little, no one could make her laugh quite like him.”
“It’s just that, well, today, she’s more upset than usual. I want a big family, I do. But between having a baby, a rowdy toddler, and being pregnant now, I have to say, I doubt I can pull this mother thing off as well as you do.”
You gave Yuko a sympathetic look, telling her with your eyes, I hear you.
“Hey, why don’t you two help your dad finish cleaning the living room?”
The twins, who couldn’t have looked more opposite of one another, proved that they were, indeed, related by groaning in sync.
“I’d rather keep making cookies than clean thirty-seven couches,” Kaia frowned.
“Ditto,” Kenji nodded, putting another roll of cookie dough on the pan.
“Cleaning isn’t up for debate, you two. Besides, it’s your socks that keep getting stuck between the cushions,” You raised your eyebrow at the young boy, then eyed the girl beside him. “The cookie dough will be waiting for you when you’re done. Both the batch we’re making now and the one for you to eat later.”
With the promise of cookies swirling around in their minds, the twins grinned at each other, then ran off in the direction of the living room.
Though there wasn’t much privacy, as the house was alive with activity even with the two kids leaving the kitchen, you refocused your attention on Yuko.
“Listen. There’s no such thing as being a perfect parent. Just now, I had to wonder if I was being too strict and overprotective by not letting Kenji eat a little cookie dough and making an entire edible version. Would a good, fun mom have just let him eat the normal kind? And don’t even get me started on what happened with my older ones two weeks ago. But, as my husband says, if the day ends with everyone warm in their beds, things aren’t so bad,” you gave her a smile, then nodded down at the baby in her arms. “Can I take a look?”
She passed you the baby, moving carefully and slowly to not wake her. And, when you caught a glimpse of the sleeping child with the knowledge that she resembled her mother closely, you did notice that, in a lot of ways, she was similar to Yuji.
The little fine hairs that made up her eyebrows were pinched with discomfort. Her chubby cheeks were red, and her lips were slightly pursed. In an instant, you recalled the days in which you’d bring a tray with a warm bowl of soup alongside some medicine into Yuji’s room. He was always hot to the touch, squirming around in his bed as if he couldn’t get comfortable, and begging for you to watch a movie with him or talk his ear off, anything at all. Because, back then, even as a teenager, he wanted his mother when he was sick.
And the face of the baby in your arms was practically identical to Yuji’s sick face in every way.
“Poor thing’s not feeling well, that’s all. See the color of her cheeks? Trust me, she wants to be in your arms right now more than anything.” You pressed a kiss against the baby’s forehead, whispering, “Don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Mom?” Yuji called out, appearing in the archway of the kitchen, but not yet stepping into it fully. “Your grandson was wondering if you were free later. He wants to spend time with you.”
“Oh? Does he now?” You handed the baby back to Yuko — who eased away after saying hi to Yuji, with the intent of placing the sleeping child in one of the cribs you kept specifically for when your grandchildren would visit. For beautiful days like this.
Staring at Yuji with a knowing look, but with words of false belief, you said, “And what does my grandson want to do?”
The twenty-seven-year-old sorcerer leaned his shoulder against the frame of the arch, looking in your general direction, but not directly at you. “He said he wants to watch a movie. Maybe the new one that came out the other day about that family dealing with a demon in their house.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, taking off your apron and putting it on the back of a counter stool. “Well, my schedule depends on whether or not my son can tell me why he won't ask me to spend time with him directly, and is using my little bean as an excuse.”
“Fine, you caught me.”
As if summoned, Yuji and Yuko’s other child, their little boy, ran into the kitchen as fast as his tiny legs would carry him, small arms stretched out as he squealed, “Gwammy!”
You were crouched down in an instant, wrapping your arms around the toddler. “There he is! My little bean!”
You lifted him. While — with the exception of being sick — Yuji’s baby daughter favored her mother more, his son stole every bit of his appearance. Though you hadn’t known Yuji when he was a toddler, you knew well that his son was a replica of him from his toddling days. The small child with pinkish hair and soft brown eyes grabbed a fistful of your hair curiously. “Gwammy go to work? I come too?”
“I’m not going to work today, I’m here.”
The boy eyed his father next, turning his head. “Dada go to work?”
“Nope, I’m here too. Everyone’s gonna be right here allll day,” Yuji smiled, approaching the child and giving his hair a little ruffle.
Satoru suddenly entered the kitchen with his famous grin. He tugged his blindfold up slightly as if he couldn’t see through it — just to make a point — as he said, “What’s this? A family meeting without us?”
Us. Us referred not only to himself, but to the twins who rushed to finish rolling the cookie dough, the man behind him, who stepped into the kitchen with a container of fruit skewers, and his spouse by his side.
“Megumi, you made it!” Yuji grinned, heading to hug the new company.
But the little boy in your arms gave your cheek a little poke as a way of saying goodbye all before trying to squirm out of your arms. Then, he ran wobbly up to Satoru.
“Papa!”
“Hey buddy! C’mere!” Satoru grabbed his grandson, raising him up and down, up and down, as the boy giggled wildly.
Once the boy settled down cozily in his grandpa’s arms, he blinked at the dark-haired man standing beside him, as if forming a thought. Then, suddenly, he blurted out, “Goomie’s got sleepy eyes!”
“Great observation,” Megumi replied. He approached you next, hugging you as he continued, “We were up late last night. There was this new documentary we finished watching around midnight, but we had to discuss it for another two hours afterward.”
“Tell me all about it, you two,” you said with a grin, heading to give his spouse a welcoming hug.
The tall teenage girl who was your beloved daughter appeared in the kitchen next. Alongside her, Tomoya, who stood shyly behind her.
“Megumi, did you bring Kimi? Please tell me you brought Kimi,” Maya rushed out impatiently.
“He’s out front.”
“Can we give him a treat?” Tomoya asked.
“They’re in my bag on the couch,” Megumi’s spouse said.
The two teenagers gave their thanks, and their eager footsteps could be heard as they rushed off. A few moments later, after opening one of the double front doors, Maya’s voice boomed throughout the house.
“Uncle Kento’s here! And Nobara’s pulling into the driveway!” She paused. “Someone else is as well, I’m not sure who. Mom, how many people did you invite?”
“It wasn’t me! It was your father!” You shrugged with false innocence, knowing well that you might have extended the invitation to a few other people. Several other people. “Boys, will you bring up those extra chairs from the basement?”
“Sure thing,” Yuji replied.
“. . . and Gwammy make cookie, and I eat cookie, cookie, cookie, okay, Papa?”
The rambling toddler in Satoru’s arms had lots to say, it would seem. Everything from space, to his family, to cookies had crossed his mind and tumbled out, and Satoru listened eagerly, giving him exaggerated reactions that his grandson oh-so adored, making the little boy feel like he was a master poet with every word. Satoru kissed his forehead.
“Kissie,” the toddler giggled, pink hair shifting as he wiggled his feet excitedly. “Papa give kissie.”
“Mhm. Do you know why?”
“Papa love me lots. Papa kissie me . . . Papa kissie Gwammy.”
“You’re the smartest little boy in the whole wide world!” Satoru beamed, and gently, he sat the toddler down on the floor.
He giggled yet again at the praise, then, he focused his attention on the twins, pulling at Kenji’s pant leg, so desperately wanting to see what the ten-year-old was doing.
Satoru took the time to shine light on the truthful words the toddler mumbled earlier by walking up to you and planting a kiss on your lips. “Baby, I don’t think we have enough chairs or square footage in this house in general to fit all the extra people you invited, and it’s a pretty big house if I do say so myself.”
“I know, I know,” you grinned rather sneakily. “I even tried to see if Sukuna could leave his dungeon for a couple of hours and come over.”
“Seriously? No way.”
“He likes my cooking. Well, he used to hate it, because he was anti-seasoning, but he came around. Anywho, I’m sure Maya and I will try to sneak him a plate of something when we visit him soon.”
Satoru shook his head in amusement. It still amazed him that the king of curses, who was once trapped inside of Yuji when they adopted the teenager, had grown to like the Gojo family. Or, rather, he viewed Maya as his own kin, while he tolerated everyone else. But upon Satoru discovering how to separate Sukuna and Yuji and therefore saving his son from being executed, Sukuna had since been civil, living his days behind bars.
A brown-haired man appeared in the kitchen archway. He waved. You waved back. He then walked off without a word.
Satoru blinked, bewildered. “Honey, was that Choso?”
“Yep! I can’t wait to tell Yuji!” You started to leave the kitchen and step into the house that was coming to life with mingling guests, music playing sweetly in the background, and you glanced back at Satoru. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let my pies burn. Make sure the little royals get those cookies in the oven!”
You were gone with a smile as bright as the sun gracing your face. It was a sight everyone wanted to see; Mrs. Gojo, being as happy as she deserved to be. And as you made your way through the gathering of guests, chitchatting, hugging, and feeding everyone — but the acts of kindness vanished quickly when it was time for board and card games — everyone hoped and prayed that your smile would remain for years to come.
— TEN YEARS LATER —
The crinkles by Satoru’s eyes that appeared when he grinned were a gift from decades of smiles and laughter. That was rather obvious, given that the man at the age of fifty was grinning, even now, as he watched his wife snap endless pictures of the beloved landmark in front of them.
“Did you get one from this angle?” The wind blew through Satoru’s hair as he spoke, his eyes glued on you; the Eiffel Tower be damned.
“From every angle. It’s gorgeous at night, isn’t it?” Your head turned between your husband and the enchanting Eiffel Tower before you, the wind blowing gently. “Oh, online, I found the cutest little frame for the photo of us in front of it!”
As he always did, as he always loved to do, Satoru approached you from behind and wrapped his arms around you. “It’ll look perfect right next to the photo from the twins’ graduation trip.”
“Paris next to the Bahamas, honey?” You frowned. “We should keep Europe with Europe and place it righttt beside the photograph from Italy.”
“Aht, aht, silenzio!” Satoru tossed his head back, speaking in what was, perhaps, the worst Italian accent you had ever heard. “I will decide the best place for the photograph, the best!”
“Horrible Italian accent while wearing a French hat? You’re too much.” You laughed, turning around in his arms to face him. What a dream he was. What a dream all of it was.
“It’s called a beret, my clueless lover,” Satoru smiled. “Just you wait. You’re going to hate the person I become when we go to Greece next year.”
“Well, if my biggest problem is you acting like an awful tourist wherever we go, I’d say life is well.”
Satoru stroked your cheek with his thumb. The glistening lights upon the Eiffel Tower were about as exciting as light bulbs on a ceiling fan compared to staring into your shining eyes.
“Let's go toss our money at a tourist trap, then find a nice, quiet place to admire the Iron Lady.” He kissed you softly. “We’ll say, oh la la, a croysahnt shop!”
—
The girl who was always told, Gosh, you look just like your mother! stood on a sidewalk across the street from a firetruck. She was waiting for her twin brother to emerge from whatever business he had to attend to, but the group of goggling women beside her was recording the firefighter approaching his truck, tugging off his coat.
“Oh my god, that guy is so handsome!”
“I wish I were on fire. Save me, sir!”
Gross, Kaia thought.
She rolled her eyes until the starry night sky above was within her line of sight. With a sigh, she approached him, the man who always heard, Wow, you look just like your father!
Everyone told Kenji that he would soon discover the true magnitude of his Gojo-given abilities. But, as time went on, it was his older sister, Maya, who became everything everyone expected a child of Satoru Gojo and his former first-grade sorcerer of a wife to become. Even though Kaia was leagues behind her, she was still ahead of Kenji.
There was no doubt about it. He was the weakest Gojo when it came to Satoru’s biological children.
No. He was the weakest out of all Satoru’s children, except Tomoya, because when both Yuji and Megumi were in their prime, becoming special-grades and discovering just how powerful they truly were, they too left Kenji in the dust. And they didn’t share blood with Satoru Gojo.
What was true, was the fact that he was jealous of Tomoya as well. He was ordinary, yes, but he couldn’t see or kill curses. Therefore, he was allowed to be ordinary. But with him becoming a gifted artist, able to create a masterpiece with paint and his imagination, Kenji’s stomach twisted into knots, knowing he couldn’t do such a thing either.
And children didn’t naturally bond with him the way they did you. Never before had he seen someone so easily teach a traumatized child what it was like to feel loved quite like his mother could. Even lost children at a grocery store always came to you for help.
But it was fine. Truly, it was.
Killing curses or creating art or watching over children weren’t his passions to begin with, and he knew that from the very moment he saw a firetruck whirl past him, brave men jumping out to rescue whomever needed saving.
“Everyone has a hand in saving the world, even non-sorcerers, hm?” Megumi once said to him.
After all, he knew. He knew what his younger brother was battling with internally, and he saw the look of amazement on his face. “Some firemen are braver and more kind than some sorcerers I know. You’re brave and kind too, Kenji. Just like them.”
“Just like them?” Kenji blinked.
Megumi nodded, honest.
And now, here he was, dressed in the uniform of a firefighter as his sister approached, her clothes far from clean after handling, what he assumed, was another mission.
“Are you purposely trying to put on a show, Kenji?” Kaia asked with a grimace.
“Just doing my job.” He gave a small, polite wave to his new fans, earning a wave of shrieks and squeals in response.
“And how many lives did you save, you brave, brave, hero?”
“Four people from the worst house fire I’ve ever seen. But don’t let the heroics fool you, I’m just in the game so I can slide down the pole at the fire station,” he grinned. “What about you? How many lives did you save, superwoman?”
Despite the playful nature of the conversation, Kaia leaned her back against the firetruck, sighing as if to showcase the heavy burden upon her shoulders.
“Not enough to get myself out of Maya’s shadow. She’s living up to dad’s name, yay, I guess, because that’s all she’s ever wanted, but that kinda thing just doesn’t interest me.”
“No?” Kenji tilted his head a bit.
“I think I’m gonna take a page out of your book and do something else with my life. Killing curses is hella fun, but watching people die isn’t exactly my cup of tea.”
“Haha.” Kenji laughed a bit at first, but then, his face fell into a small frown. “Oh, you’re being serious? Still copying me after all these years, I see, I see.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“What are you thinking of doing with your life, then? College? Then you’ll be copying Tomoya, which would be a nice change. But, if you wanna become a firefighter too, I don’t care, just know that I slide down the pole first, always, and in a very astonishing way.”
Kaia was silent for a moment, thinking. “The other day, I was visiting the children’s home, and I was only there so I could drop off some glue since they ran out, but I saw mom making these arts and crafts with those orphans and, I don’t know, I think I wanna be like her.”
“Might as well. You already look like her,” Kenji shrugged. “Seriously, though, we’re twenty. You don’t have to decide what you wanna do for the rest of your life right this second. If you ask me, I don’t think you gotta pick between being a sorcerer and working at the children’s home. Yuta did both.”
“I should do neither. I should be at a club or something,” running a hand down her face in pure, utter stress, Kaia released yet another sigh.
“Me too, me too.” Kenji paused, preparing to enter his firetruck. “Also, I lied. There was no fire. Some guy just accidentally flooded his kitchen. I just had to twist a couple of things behind his fridge back in place. But I’m gonna keep spreading that lie today so everyone thinks I’m cool. See you later.”
Kaia found herself yet again rolling her eyes for the second time that evening.
—
The Gojo house, as promised, was still alive with activity. It had gotten rather quiet once Kenji and Kaia decided to move out a few months prior. Often, the only noise that graced the halls were the subtle noises you and Satoru would make. Soft chatter, gentle kisses, hums of a song, the flicker of a fireplace, water trickling off of cleaned dishes, and everything in between.
There were also the soft meows of your new cat. And the gentle hum of your humidifier keeping your new houseplants alive and healthy.
But, today, it was alive with people, other people, who greeted you and Satoru at the door as you made your way inside with your suitcases.
“There’s my muffin and mini-muffin,” Satoru’s suitcase was a long-gone memory. It rocked back and forth all before it hit the floor, and he didn’t care. Not one bit.
Instead, he focused on embracing Maya as gently as he could, aware of the baby she carried in her arms.
Oh, he’d never forget what it was like when Maya found her first boyfriend. She was singing in the shower and seeing clear skies on rainy days, meanwhile, he was so sick, he was certain he’d need to be taken to the hospital.
Worry had him nearly bedridden, overthinking, and dreading the possibility of his little girl — who was no longer a little girl, but a seventeen-year-old at the time — getting hurt. How would he, someone who married their first and only love, comfort someone during their first breakup? Or, yet, how would he handle someone breaking his daughter’s heart in a calm, rational way that would not result in him sending a spherical purple force of pure power through their house?
But then, he met him. Her boyfriend. And he was just as pathetic for his daughter as Satoru was for you.
And that stammering teenager was now a grown man, standing tall — though he was shorter than her — at Maya’s side, and taking your suitcase like the gentleman he was.
“Welcome home!” Maya smiled. “How was it?”
“It was a dream! Thank you for house sitting,” you replied, hugging her next once Satoru released the sorcerer.
The tall woman, who was regarded as one of the strongest sorcerers in the world, stood proud at twenty-six years old. Her hair was completely white, as she had decided to toss out the dye and embrace everything that represented the last name, Gojo — or, maiden name, in her case — be it power, wealth, love, or white hair.
And she was well. She was doing very, very well.
“Plants are fine, cat is fine, everything’s fine,” Maya snuggled her daughter closer towards her chest.
“We got everyone a, uh, a souvenir, here’s yours.” Satoru cleared his throat. The suitcase wasn’t long forgotten anymore. He dug through it until the familiar surface graced his fingertips, and he pulled the cherished item out, handing it to Maya, who took it with her free hand and laughed wholeheartedly.
“How in the world did you find a fake muffin with an Eiffel Tower on top?”
“Using blood, sweat, and tears,” Satoru smirked with pride.
Suddenly, someone appeared in the foyer where you were all gathered.
“Oh!” You jumped a bit, placing your hand over your pounding heart, startled. “I didn’t know you were here, little bean! Oh, you look just like your father, doesn’t he, Satoru? It’s like looking at a teenage Yuji again. That takes me back.”
The boy who was nearing thirteen years old approached you with open arms.
“Wait, does that mean . . .”
“Yep, the actual Yuji’s here too.” Satoru’s words were cut off by Yuji’s sudden announcement of his presence.
Yuji’s heart jumped with joy seeing the look of surprise and happiness on your faces. Life had gotten busy for him. As a special-grade sorcerer, husband, and father of five, including two adopted kids, the thirty-seven-year-old had also decided to take on a teaching position at Jujutsu High, and because of that, he hadn’t been able to visit as often as he liked.
Long hugs were exchanged.
“Hi, sweetie,” you greeted on the brink of tears. “Oh, I’ve missed you. How are you? Where are my other grandkids?”
“I’ve missed you too. Figured I’d stop by. Our three-minute phone calls haven’t been enough for me lately either. But they’re at home with Yuko. This one just hopped in the car quick, fast, and in a hurry, though.” Yuji nodded his head down at his son, who loved his grandparents so much, he was leaning against Satoru’s side while keeping a grip on your wrist.
“Can you all stay for a little longer?” You darted your eyes between everyone in the foyer — Yuji and his son, Maya and her husband, and even the baby in her arms. “I could cook something!”
You were already headed for the kitchen before any of them could respond. Maya and Yuji exchanged a look of understanding that could only come from a sibling bond, because it was quite fortunate that their answer would have been a yes.
— FIVE YEARS LATER —
There was a knock at the front door.
It took you a while, quite a while, for you to realize it wasn’t a dream.
Most times, when you found yourself awakened in the middle of the night, it was because a baby was crying, a child had a nightmare, or a teenager was injured or in need of comfort after a traumatizing event.
But no one who fit those descriptions currently resided in your house.
No grandkids here, you thought. It’s just me and Satoru. What was that noise I-
It happened again, interrupting your thoughts. That was when you realized what it was. A knock.
Your blurry eyes blinked all the while you prepared to shake your husband awake, but then, you noticed his eyes were already open.
And he was wide awake before the knocking began, because he felt it, whatever it was, as soon as it happened.
—
Housecoats were tugged on, light switches were flipped, and your cat meowed in protest over being disturbed at such an ungodly hour.
You had opened the door expecting to see one of your children, but who you saw instead was the boss of one of them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gojo?” The man — the boss — gazed at you with the saddest eyes.
His face wasn’t all that familiar on its own. Not really. The only thing that truly made you remember him was the shirt he and the fellow person standing at his side wore, as you had washed plenty of the dark-colored shirts with that same logo before. They were the shirts firemen wore under their gear.
“Yes?” You spoke with great worry. Satoru placed his hand on your shoulder.
“I am Chief Broucher with the-”
“Yes, yes, I know, we’ve met before. What’s . . . it’s three in the morning.”
“I understand, ma’am.” The man removed his hat out of respect. “May we come in?”
You let them into your foyer, and with every step they took, the reality of the situation started to sink in, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. His eyes spoke for him. Based on the way Satoru’s hand fell from your shoulder and took hold of yours, you knew he knew it too, but well before you did. That was why he was already awake, because he felt it earlier. As it happened.
But still, you waited for the official news.
And the firefighter began. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news. There was a massive fire and cave-in at the Rileston Apartments. Your son, Kenji, was able to rescue as many people as he could, but he did not survive. He died heroically. I am so sorry. The department is here to support your family during this difficult time, in any way that we can.”
“Our boy . . . my son died?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
The ache — the terrible, awful ache — that shot through your knees when your legs gave out and hit the floor was nothing compared to the suffocating pain that took your breath away. Satoru was on the ground beside you, holding you in his arms, but no force on earth was strong enough to hold your heart together. There was a sob stuck somewhere between your chest and your throat, one that couldn’t escape, not when memories of your sweet little prince filled your mind. His smile after trying the edible cookie dough you made for him. The way he followed Megumi around the house, be it with crawls, the pitter-patter of running toddler feet, the confident stride of a kid, the casual walk of a teenager, or the brave one of a young man.
“Mommy? I wanna be a fireman,” he once said, fidgeting with his fingers nervously.
You encouraged him with praises and hugs. But now . . .
Now, calls of his name erupted from your throat. Satoru held your head against his chest, which rose and fell unevenly as he too was starting to lose it, coming to terms with the harsh reality.
When he awakened an hour before the firemen showed up at his door, it was because he felt an enormous weight on his chest, as if his heart was filling with heavy metal and threatening to burst open. He thought it was some sort of weird heart attack. In hindsight, he wished that’s what it was.
But then, he sensed it, in the same way he could most times sense curses from a far distance or people begging for his help from miles away.
There were a few key differences though:
This feeling came too late, when he couldn’t do anything to save his boy.
This feeling wasn’t a call for help, but rather, an announcement of his death.
This feeling felt as if part of him had died as well.
The fire department wouldn’t leave until you were as stable as a grieving mother and father could be. They removed the cuff around your arm after checking your blood pressure, mumbled their well wishes, and left you and Satoru in your living room, where you could do nothing except stare at the smiling photos of your little prince.
And the next time all of the Gojos and everyone close to the family gathered, it was at Kenji’s funeral.
— TEN YEARS LATER —
At the age of sixty-five, Satoru Gojo walked into the fancy art museum with a woman on his arm who, as he stated at least once a day, aged like fine wine.
His covered eyes darted over the gray streaks in your styled hair, the perfect, tasteful makeup along your face, and the nicest dress generational wealth could buy.
And he had a classic, handsome appearance that complimented him well at his age. Overall, you were both breathtaking, and perhaps, he had your nightly enforced skincare routines to thank for that.
The art that filled the crowded halls of the exhibition was stunning. Beyond that, they filled your heart with pride, as this wasn’t just any regular art show, but your son’s.
“Surprise.” Tomoya softly greeted from behind you.
You and Satoru turned around, grinning widely upon seeing the forty-one-year-old.
“Oh, sweetheart!” You looked up at him, embracing him immediately as you said, “We are so proud of you, words cannot begin to describe it, dear.”
Satoru joined in on the hug. “Who knew I found the next da Vinci at the park that day, huh?” Tomoya grinned softly, pushing up on his glasses. “There are a couple of paintings I want you both to see.”
You followed him towards an area of the museum that wasn’t quite restricted, not necessarily, but was treated with a near secrecy that almost made you wonder if you would have had to show ID to prove you were Tomoya’s mother had he not been your escort.
But, upon seeing the big collection of paintings on the wall, upon realizing that you were putting your waterproof makeup to the test as the tears came instantly, it was clear why this artwork was in a special area.
“It’s our family through the years,” Tomoya said.
He captured everyone, from when you and Satoru were bright-eyed young adults to now, your golden years. In some, Maya was a little girl with a missing tooth, to a grown woman with big white hair spilling across her shoulders. Yuji’s teenage self was painted with an expression he used to always have; boyish, grinning wildly, pinkish hair messy. Megumi had gone from being a rather gloomy teenager to a sophisticated-looking man. Kaia’s excitable nature from her childhood was painted perfectly. She was similar to Yuji in that way. But, after losing her other half, her twin, her smile faded over the years, right after Kenji was no longer part of the paintings, because he no longer existed above the age of twenty-five. Tomoya captured the loss of light in Kaia’s eyes, but, in the more recent paintings of her, her spark was starting to return.
He went on to paint your grandchildren — including the child he adopted — and even your great-grandchildren. Family pets as well.
But what both broke your heart and glued it back together was the independent painting of what Kenji would have looked like if he were still alive.
“That’s why you borrowed all of our old photographs,” you sniffled, pulling a tissue out of your purse.
“It’s beautiful,” Satoru smiled, pointing. “Look at Kenji’s smile in this one. You get all this talent from me, by the way.”
Tomoya smiled at the joke. “You asking for plenty of paintings of mom throughout the years definitely gave me opportunities to practice. Also, there’s another painting I’ll show you later.”
—
Later came after the art show, when the Gojo house was once again alive with love as another gathering was held in celebration of Tomoya’s success.
You, Satoru, and your children sat around the dining table, while everyone else crowded around it as best as they could, but the crowd spilled out into hallways, which was the result of having so many people you all called loved ones, whether they shared a last name with you all, or not.
Satoru stood from his seat, the chatter dying down as he did so.
“Settle down, now,” the old man said with a small smile, eyeing his talkative fifty-two-year-old son sitting across the table, Yuji, specifically. “You kids are old as dirt now and still bad.”
There was laughter, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived, for everyone was prepared to hear whatever Satoru had to say. “I just wanted to say a couple of words here. Tomoya’s paintings are making me feeling nostalgic right now. Tomoya, I’m proud of you, son. Life hasn’t always been your best friend, but you? You overcame it all, and look at you now. Your artwork is magnificent, but there’s no masterpiece quite like you. I’m grateful we went to the park that day and found you, and we’ve spoiled you ever since, but somehow, you still deserve more. Kaia, nothing makes me prouder than knowing you are a reflection of that woman right over there. But you’re more than that as well. You found yourself, even after you lost your other half, and your strength is outta this world, princess. You make the world a better place even when the only thing you can do most days is just smile, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we love that smile, hm?” Satoru paused. “Megumi, I didn’t know what the future would be like when I found you, a sassy little six-year-old who was smarter than I was. Even though we didn’t adopt you until later, you were my son from that very moment. Watching you grow over the last forty-six years has made me a happy old man. You are everything I hoped you would be, still smarter than I am, and even during your darkest moments, you were the light of my life. Yuji, this family wouldn’t exist in the way it does now if it weren’t for you asking me that question all those years ago. I’ll never forget. We were walking down the street when you decided to ask me if I was married. I told you about my wife and kid, and you just had to meet them, remember that? We just knew the second we let you into our house that day that we had to adopt you. You’re a joy, Yuji. Muffin, you were our firstborn. I’ll never forget the day I held you in my arms, and I cannot count how many times I have or almost passed out while raising you, because you have my heart, Muffin, and all your dear old dad ever wanted was to protect you from bullies, from curses, from scraping your knee, everything. Nothing warms my heart more than seeing you grow, grow, and grow. This world has been safe in your hands from the moment you decided to become a sorcerer, and from the moment you were born, you’ve been safe in mine.”
Satoru’s eyes met with every family member as he spoke to them, but now, they drifted off, staring at no one in particular. “And, to Kenji, my boy, if you’re listening, nothing makes me and your mom prouder than knowing we raised a hero, one who gave his life to save others, but we miss you more than anything, little prince. I hope you’re at peace, and I know we’ll see you again someday. You were quiet as a kid, and I would have never, ever changed a thing about you, but I wish we had more conversations. I wish I could hear your voice again in person. And I wish you were here with us now. I love you, and kids, I love all of you. Each and every single one of you has been a joy to raise. Thank you all for giving me grandchildren, and grandchildren, thank you for giving me great-grandchildren. I love you all. Friends, family, and friends we pretend are family, I love you all as well. I’m going to shut up and sit down soon, but I need to say a couple of words about my beautiful wife.” Satoru turned his body towards you, grabbing your hand. He leaned down and softly kissed your knuckles. “You just take my breath away, I don’t even know where to start. After all these years, decades of marriage, since the day we first met, April 8th, 2005, you still make my heart skip a beat. You’ve given me the world, and I’m still excited to wake up beside you every single day. We’re soulmates in every lifetime, honey. Every part of me, from that nervous, fainting, crying mess of a teenager who could barely speak to you, to this sixty-five-year-old man holding your hand right now, believes that with all my heart. As I always say, always think, you’re the love of my life. You own my heart, and every part of me. And, speaking of hearts, you need to stop smiling at me like that, or else mine is going to give out before it’s my time, hm?”
“Oh, Satoru,” you sniffled. There it was again, the tears.
And while they streamed down your cheeks, Tomoya had risen from the table and left the room, only to return with a painting he uncovered.
It was you and Satoru, but not in your golden years. Not as adults. Not as young adults. But as teenagers. The painting was made from a photograph taken by Suguru Geto during your first date, karaoke night, and it detailed you and Satoru gazing into each other's eyes with microphones in hand, Satoru’s cheeks as red as a tomato.
As it would happen, and everyone knew it would, you cried harder. Praise spewed from everyone’s lips at the sight of the painting.
“You two still look the same if you ask me,” Kento Nanami, who stood near the dining room table, spoke up, earning a laugh from everyone.
The painting was hung next to all the other paintings Tomoya had made of you and your husband, its new home along the big wall of your living room.
It was late, much later than you and your husband would have typically stayed up, but that was only because the celebration lasted well into the night, and once everyone staggered out of your house with hugs and goodbyes, you and Satoru decided to keep the music going, turn the lights down low, and dance together in your candlelit living room.
You rested your head against him as you both swayed slowly.
“You spoke so beautifully,” you said. “I’ve used that word quite a few times today.”
“I was just saying what was on my heart, honey.” Satoru's hand stroked your back. “Beautiful wife, beautiful life, beautiful words.”
— EVER AFTER —
It was a beautiful life indeed. Though there were moments in which your world fell apart, your heart snapped into pieces, your family always, always, always knew how to put the pieces of you back together again.
And, today, that same family surrounded your bedside during your final moments.
You couldn’t see them all that well, but oh, could you feel them.
You knew the frail, large hand that held yours belonged to Satoru. You knew the sniffles you could barely make out were Yuji’s. Instinctively, you wanted to hold him as you once did whenever he was upset. The breath you could hear had barely changed from when you and Megumi used to bond over washing dishes together in silence, decades ago, and still, that rhythm matched his presence: quiet, gentle, but present. The hand stroking the wrinkles along your forehead was Maya’s. You painted those nails long enough to know how those fingertips felt. Some footsteps wouldn’t settle, those belonged to Kaia, your excitable princess who now moved around out of the pure anxiety of saying goodbye to her eighty-five-year-old mother, and Tomoya’s hand touched the blanket over your leg, and without being able to see him, you knew well that he was taking off his glasses to wipe away his tears.
Beyond them, your house was filled with your additional loved ones, all of whom received that same phone call from Maya, that, according to your doctor, you were in your final moments.
You could feel it. The breath escaping you.
But it wasn’t painful. It was peaceful.
Beautiful, in a way, because when you drew your final breath, the last thing you ever felt, saw, or heard, came from the loved ones that surrounded you.
Just before Satoru broke into pieces, he kissed the hand belonging to the love of his life, now gone. “Wait for me . . . honey.”
—
When Maya Gojo was around four years old, she once called her father while he was in the middle of an important meeting.
“You learned about the life cycle of a butterfly? Oh, that’s amazing . . . And you drew a picture of one? We’re just gonna have to hang it on the fridge then . . . Mommy packed you your favorite sandwich for lunch? Did you gobble it all up? Sounds like you had a fun day, Muffin,” he once said, for he was the kind of man who always answered the phone when she called, no matter what.
That sentiment was still true today, a few weeks after your passing, when the old man did nothing but mourn you, talk to his beloved family — someone, or multiple people, were staying in his house daily to watch over him, and he loved it more than he could express.
Everyone was worried about him.
He was healthy until the day he lost you.
Then, it was as if the eighty-five-year-old man’s body started to decay rapidly, accompanied by his never-ending tears and horrific chest pain.
But, even though he was rejecting the food his grandchildren brought him, always had low blood pressure, and couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed today, Maya was calling, so he grabbed his phone and answered. He always did.
He didn’t talk much nowadays, which Maya knew, but he loved hearing her voice, which Maya also knew.
“What’d you do . . . today?” Satoru croaked out several minutes into their phone call.
“I went to the cutest little yoga class with my grandchildren,” the sixty-one-year-old woman paused, parking her car outside of his house, without his knowledge.
“When you get a chance to eh, . . . stop by . . . I have some food for you . . . here.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ll be there day after tomorrow. Get some rest, old man,” she lied, barely able to fight off a grin as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Love you . . . to pieces, Muffin.”
“I love you too.”
The phone call ended with Satoru’s silent prayer that he would make it to the day after tomorrow, living just long enough to see his daughter one last time. He knew what was happening to him. His mind was still rather sharp, it was his heart that wasn’t working as well as it used to.
And that was because he saw you die. Now, he, too, was dying, dying of a broken heart.
Not that he minded, he was ready to see you again, see his little prince, see Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto, his cat — everyone he had to say goodbye to.
Satoru turned over in his bed and shut his eyes, only opening them when he felt Maya’s hand press against his arm.
His tired, aged eyes blinked.
“Muffin?” His surprised grin didn’t grace his face alone. Tears came with it.
Maya sat on the little free space on the side of his bed, leaned down, and kissed his cheek. “Hi, Dad. I’m here. I’m home.”
Finally, he thought, feeling her grab hold of his hand. Feeling relief, because he had seen everyone relatively recently as some form of goodbye, but not yet her, not until now.
As if his soul was waiting for Maya to appear, and was now satisfied, Satoru’s eyes closed.
Satoru Gojo once spoke on the phone with his daughter, and, following that, left a meeting early, killed a curse, all because his four-year-old little girl wanted to show him a picture of a butterfly, and he had to make it home. He promised to always make it home.
Now, it was a promise that Maya upheld, holding her dying father’s hands as she whispered, “I’m here, I’m home.”
Satoru released one shaky, final breath.
And when he died, he died with a small smile, one that formed because he passed on with his daughter by his side, a house filled with loved ones — oh, he had so, so many loved ones — and, above all, he was with you again.
—
Much like you, much like Satoru, the rest of your children lived full, satisfying lives.
Megumi passed away a year after losing you and Satoru. He lived to be seventy-three, but health problems claimed his life, but even so, life turned out to be more beautiful than his teenage self had thought it would. His spouse lived on for a few more years after that.
Yuji made it until the age of eighty. He passed on around eight years after Megumi, following Yuko, surrounded by his kids and grandchildren. Some say that, even during his final moments, he was rambling on happily, full of life.
Maya also died surrounded by family. Perhaps, it was the great Gojo genetics that would have worked in her father’s favor had he never developed broken heart syndrome as a result of losing you, but Maya lived to be ninety-eight.
Kaia made it into the nineties as well. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was beyond joyful to reunite with her beloved twin brother again. Before her passing, she became the owner of your children’s home when you could no longer run it, but it had now been passed on to Tomoya’s descendants.
Tomoya himself died in his seventies. Following which, his artwork became evermore famous.
“His glasses are actually in a museum now along with his artwork.” The woman who spoke was a descendant of the great Gojo family. She told the story that started with a man developing a school crush in 2005 to the children and teenagers, a few with white hair, who sat before her, criss-crossed, and looked up at her curiously.
“Satoru Gojo will forever be known for the great work he did as the world’s strongest sorcerer, while his wife, who everyone called Mrs. Gojo, made history in this town with everything she did for orphans and neglected kids. There are a couple of news articles about her. Videos too. As a whole, though, they and their children, biological and adopted, have changed the course of the world with all of the contributions they’ve made to society, be it as a sorcerer, or as loving people.” The woman gave the famous grin that often graced the face of all Gojos, both alive and well, and long gone. “So, we have some pretty big shoes to fill. Though I do think a love story as great as theirs doesn’t happen to people often.”
She was right.
Though many people fell in love, very few would truly come to understand — even the world’s greatest minds and most dedicated historians — just how much Satoru Gojo adored his beautiful wife, the love of his life.
Thanks for reading! I can’t believe this is the final part of the series. I appreciate all the love and support you readers have given me!
Please let me know what you think of this part, I’d love to know!
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: As the wife of SATORU GOJO, mother of adopted teenagers Yuji and Megumi, and the biological mother of a little girl and two twin babies, you’re a busy woman. While trying to adopt yet another child-in-need all the while running your household, the last thing you needed to worry about was your family being in grave danger. At least the great Mrs. Gojo can handle it all, right?
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: fem reader, canonverse, canon typical violence, angst, blood & injuries, very small argument/disagreement between reader and gojo, very brief mention of suicidal tendencies, & mentions of child neglect. As usual, Gojo has no thoughts except his family and loving his wife!
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 12k
♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn't necessary. || artwork by @/3-aem!
There was an unwritten rule among the students of Jujutsu High.
“Huh? Where did I go when I needed something? Well, that school sucks at prioritizing the needs of its students most of the time, and I’ll be damned if I go to my clan for anything, so, I mainly just got by with what I had. But, if there was really something I couldn’t do on my own, I just visited Mrs. Gojo,” Maki once said.
“She came to my graduation last year. The Gojo’s were the only ones there to cheer me on. Kinda embarrassing, to be honest.”
—
“You want some of my lunch, kid? My wife packed me enough to feed an entire village. Help yourself.” Satoru once said. “Hey, if you’re that hungry, you could come over for dinner tonight. My wife’s always making extra and she loooves feeding guests. Whaddya say?”
—
“Mrs. Gojo? Yeah, she’s nice. She’ll fix those holes in your uniform so you don’t have to buy a new one again.”
—
“Sorry I haven’t been around much lately. The higher-ups kicked me off of campus ‘cause I couldn’t pay for my room this semester. I’m staying in the guest room at Mr. and Mrs. Gojo’s place for a little while.”
—
“It doesn’t matter if Gojo’s your teacher or not. Just ask him to ask his wife for . . .”
—
“Mrs. Gojo baked . . .”
—
“Mrs. Gojo . . .”
—
“Mrs. Gojo . . .”
—
“Mrs. Gojo . . .”
—
And, thus, the unwritten rule was created: if one ever needed anything, anything at all, go to Mrs. Gojo.
— ♡ —
The bed croaked underneath Satoru Gojo’s shifting weight, but it was the sound of his gasp — a sharp inhale so startling, so sudden — that made your tired eyes snap open.
“Satoru?” You called out worriedly, raising your head from your pillow.
He was staring in the general direction of the bedroom door, as if he had seen a ghost. You could blame it on the horror film you watched together while cuddling on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, or the fact that you simply lived in a curse-filled world, but you couldn’t help but try to stare at whatever caught his attention, whatever frightened him so much.
But there wasn’t some possessed child crawling across the floor, nor were there three special-grade curses standing near the dark entrance.
“Sorry, baby,” Satoru said eventually, blinking his wide blue eyes. “Just had a nightmare.”
You sat up in bed. Resting your back against the plush headboard, you motioned him over, and without a moment of hesitation, the world’s strongest sorcerer rested his head in your lap, white strands of his messy hair spilling every which way — the strands that weren’t stuck to his forehead due to a thin layer of sweat decorating his pale skin, at least.
“Tell me about it,” you whispered, stroking his hair back into its proper place.
“You already know.”
“Oh.” Your voice was soft.
“Different scenario this time,” Satoru continued, squeezing the top of your thigh a bit tighter with every word he spoke. “But it’s always the same at the end of the day. Something downright horrible happens to you, and I can’t stop it. I’m either not around and show up too late, or I can’t move and can only watch . . . no matter what, I just . . . can’t fucking save you.”
“Honey, listen to me. They’re just dreams. I know I say it all the time, but if you fear them like they’re real-life scenarios, that’s what makes them worse.”
Turning over to lie on his back, Satoru blinked up at you with eyes traced with dark crescents of teary exhaustion.
“You don’t know that. Just think about it. I’m all-powerful, right? You used to joke around and say you married a god instead of a human. So does it sound impossible for a god to receive signs that something bad is gonna happen to the love of his life?”
“Satoru, you were starting to become insanely protective before the dreams started. That’s why I think your own anxiety is a factor.” Stroking your thumb across his forehead, you couldn’t help but whisper, “When did you stop believing that I could take care of myself?”
“What do you mean?”
You didn’t mean to sound bitter. Truly, you didn’t.
But Satoru wasn’t the same man who once cheered you on from afar whenever you killed a curse, way back when. He wasn’t the same man who once had so much reassuring belief that you could protect yourself and your children, he didn’t mind letting Sukuna’s vessel sleep underneath the same roof.
But he loved Yuji. Sukuna was no longer a problem. You were no longer a sorcerer.
So it was fine, all fine.
But, this new, overprotective version of Satoru rejected long missions that would send him across the seas if he could — which you didn’t mind, as you missed him dearly, and help around the house was desperately needed — and he would eye the way you handled a sharp knife.
And god forbid you cough too many times in a row.
Just how many times did you find yourself sitting on the couch with a good book, just to suddenly feel a large hand press against your forehead?
“Just checking to see if you feel warm,” Satoru would say. He’d lean down afterward, and lightly kiss your cheek out of pure relief. “All good here.”
“Honey?” Satoru reached up and tapped your forehead lightly, getting your attention. “You know I know how strong you are, right? I worry about you because I love you. Not because I think you’re weak.”
“Then why have you changed? It’s not like you have always been this worried. This? This is new. The nightmares. The panic.”
“It’s not you,” he mumbled. “It’s me. Trust me. You haven’t done anything to make me think you’re weak. I’m the weak one.”
“Satoru . . .” you whispered his name as if it was a secret.
The moonlight shining through your barely-drawn curtains shone upon his sad, distant gaze.
“I’m telling the truth.” Satoru paused. “I worry everything. I worry about whether or not Sukuna will go back to causing hell. I’m happy I figured out how to get him out of Yuji. We saved our boy’s life. No future execution. And Sukuna’s locked away somewhere special, being civil ‘cause he had a change of heart and likes our family more than he’d like to admit, especially our daughter. But how are we supposed to know if he’ll go back to his old ways? Even if he doesn’t, are we really gonna let Maya visit him someday? Be friends with the King of Curses? Treat someone who has done as much evil as he has, like another member of our family? Then, I worry about Megumi’s mental health. He’s doing better, happier than ever, but when he gets too quiet, starts messing around with his meals, I’m just scared I’ll walk into his room one day and see that he’s hurt himself, or worse. And where do I even start with Maya? Do I start with the fact that Jujutsu High wants to have a meeting with us about her, or the fact that she actually kinda likes discovering her own cursed techniques? Then there’s Tomoya, the twins . . . I could go on. Only reason I’m not is because my jaw hurts from talking so much.”
“You don’t have to go on. I experience every worry you do. I know exactly how you feel. It’s a scary world, and our kids are in the center of it all.” Lightly, your finger traced the curve of his ear, and his heart thumped maddeningly, just as it always did when he experienced your warmth. From the day he first saw your smile in that partially empty classroom of Jujutsu High, to the day you would both become old and gray, he knew — he knew — your touch would always bring him to his knees.
Unbeknownst to your husband’s reddening cheeks, you yawned, withdrawing your hand as you said, “Well, do you want to try and get some sleep, or do you want to talk some more?”
“Are those my only two options?”
“The night before an important meeting, yes. Yes, they are.”
“Fineee.” He raised his head from your lap. “You should get some rest. Don’t let me keep you awake.”
“What part of I experience every worry you do did you not understand? If you’re not sleeping, I’m not sleeping.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll try.” Settling back onto his side of the bed, Satoru pulled you against him with one swift movement, your back hitting his chest. “Come here.”
There, he held you. Your pleasant scent was both comforting and nostalgic, skin soft from the bedtime routine you and he both adapted — lotions, oils, and chitchatting about anything and everything.
His blue eyes closed, and eventually, he drifted off to sleep, only to yet again dream about the person in his arms being ripped away from him.
—
When the sun shone through the curtains of the big, yet cozy, family home that next morning, the bustling house was alive with a familiar chaos every member of the Gojo family knew all too well.
Okay, you thought. Megumi and Yuji have to be at Jujutsu High. Curses and curse users are more active than usual, so they’ll probably forgo classes and receive a mission today. Tomoya has school, Maya has to miss school because of this weird meeting with the Jujutsu Society . . . why exactly do they want to meet with us? Okay, okay . . . focus. I have to stop by the grocery store after the meeting. I gotta ask everyone if there are any special requests, except Maya and Satoru, because they’ll be with me. Kento should be here soon to babysit the twins . . . I’ll be at my children’s home all day tomorrow. Erika said a new child has been placed, scared to death. Didn’t Yuta say something about helping out? That’ll work out just fine. He’s great with kids. Satoru’s the only reason I was able to create and own a children’s home in the first place. If it wasn’t for his influence, I could’ve been waiting a year or longer to get this thing going. Speaking of Satoru, what should I do about his nightmares? And Maya’s hair is growing like crazy, I can barely keep up . . .
Your thoughts continued as you rose from your bed, shutting off your alarm.
Time to get the day started.
Megumi stood nearest the coffee machine, fully dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform. Upon your entry through the archway of the big kitchen, he asked, “Coffee or tea?”
“I’ll make it myself, thank you,” you replied quickly, pressing your phone against your ear as you mumbled a quick, “and good morning, boys,” to Megumi, Yuji, and Tomoya — who moved around the kitchen with the intent of searching for a quick breakfast — all before the person on the other end of your call spoke yet again.
“No, absolutely not,” you said lowly to the caller, frowning. “Do you people understand the definition of child neglect? His birth parents cannot just appear and demand to have their child back. They’re only doing this because the adoption is almost finalized, you’re aware of that, aren’t you? Consider how long it took for them to notice that their son wasn’t around.”
The boy, Tomoya, blissfully unaware that he was the topic of the conversation you held with someone over the phone, approached you with a loaf of bread in his hands, raising it to you with pleading eyes sitting behind his big glasses.
“Please?” He mumbled.
“Special toast?” You whispered with a soft smile.
He nodded, and with that, you opened the bread, heading for the four-slot toaster.
“I don’t care if they’re still technically his parents. I don’t care at all. I have spoken to you all and repeatedly stated the condition he was in when we found him months ago. Skin and bones. Dirty. He couldn’t even see! Those people you call his parents didn’t even know the poor boy needed glasses! And you expect me to . . . no. He’s my son. I’ve worked too hard to make it so just for you all and those people to try and reverse it . . . so I can’t find a hungry child at the park, bring him home, take care of him, because that’s illegal, but his biological parents — his biological parents — can abandon him and leave him to fend for himself? Nothing happens to the teachers who didn’t notice him wearing the same outfit, his hunger, or anything? So him falling behind in school and not meeting some standards development-wise for his age group because no one at home taught him anything is perfectly fine? He’s a little boy.” You put the toast in the toaster.
“No, I have other business to attend to today and tomorrow. I have a meeting today, and tomorrow, I’ll be working at my children’s home. Yes, I own a children’s home. It’s brand new, and it exists only because people like you think it’s okay for abused children to put up with these conditions because- . . . I don’t care . . . Fine, I will meet with you all. But I’m letting you all know right now that this is my kid, and I will only be attending this meeting to prove it so . . . Legality? . . . Oh, please. I do not mind humiliating his biological parents in a court of law. Have a good day.”
You found yourself ending the call and wrapping your arms around Tomoya before you knew it.
Though he was uncertain why you were hugging him, he had gotten used to being at the receiving end of your parental affection, and he wrapped his small arms around you. It felt nice.
“I love you, sweetheart. We all do.” You whispered to him. “I’ll flee the country with you before I let anything bad happen to you ever again.”
You wanted to cry. It was rather difficult to hold it in. Tomoya was once a child in class with one outfit to wear despite the weather. No parents around to hold him close during thunderstorms, protect him from his bullies, or read to him after school.
He came into your life weary of the people around him — no one had bothered to help him before you all found him at the park, after all, and he was hesitant to trust you. To speak. He’d sooner pee his pants than ask to go to the bathroom.
But finally, he had gotten used to having delicious, warm meals daily. The tall, white-haired man and the two big teenagers scared away his former bullies. He was comfortable with tugging on your clothes and asking you for a hug, a bedtime story, or help tying his shoes.
He smiled. He laughed. He had reasons for doing so now.
People played with him. Colored with him. Bought him toys. His dark brown hair was no longer smelly. No part of him was.
Faces were no longer blurry, as the glasses on his face helped with that. His feet were no longer cold and sore. Properly sized shoes and hole-free socks helped with that. And he had so many! Clothes, shoes — he had it all.
Even now, he couldn’t grasp the fact that he could give you bread, and you’d give it back, having turned it into special toast — toasted bread with a variety of surprise toppings you switched out each time he asked for it, ranging from honey to eggs to fruit — and you did it all because you loved him.
Not only did he finally feel like a person, but a child now.
Finally, he could breathe.
You held him tighter, thinking, I can’t let him go back to having nothing. I won’t.
“You okay, mom?” Yuji asked, opening the fridge as he glanced worriedly in your direction.
“I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about when you know you’re in the right about something.” As you rose to your feet, you gave him a gentle smile, and rather surprisingly, it was a real one. “Honey, if you’re looking for the orange juice, we’re all out. You know it doesn’t last a day in this house. Add it to the grocery list, and I’ll get some when I go to the store today after the meeting.”
Satoru stepped into the kitchen with one of the twins, his baby girl, Kaia, in his arms as you spoke. He pressed a kiss against the side of your head.
“You too, Megumi. If there’s something you need, add it to the list,” Satoru added on to your statement.
“Okay. I’ll add green apples,” Megumi poured his black coffee into his dark blue insulated travel mug.
“Green? You and your taste buds, I just don’t get it,” Yuji took a bite of his protein bar, leaning against the kitchen island.
“You say that, and yet, you eat them as well.”
“I eat everything, and that includes the worst-tasting apples in the world!” As Yuji spoke, Satoru ruffled his and Tomoya’s hair as he walked by, and Yuji gave a boyish grin in response. Yuji then turned his head in your direction, “Ma? Do you like apples?”
And, it began.
For reasons you couldn’t quite understand, your boys settled upon the realization a little while ago that they knew very little about you. Since then, they made it their mission to ask you as many questions as possible. As you assembled special toast for Tomoya and Maya — who was playing with her baby brother, Kenji, in the living room — you sighed.
“Is that you and Megumi’s first question of the day?”
“Yep!”
“Hey, why don’t you guys ask me any questions?” Satoru asked, ruffling Megumi’s hair next.
“You tell us everything. Including things we don’t want to know.” Megumi sipped his coffee.
“He’s telling the truth!” Yuji added.
“What’s your favorite song, daddy?” Maya suddenly ran into the kitchen, having heard the conversation taking place as she made her way to you, wrapping her arms around you as she spoke to her dear dad. “I like the one that goes I see the lighttt . . . and at least I see the lighttt . . .”
“That’s my favorite song now too, Muffin.” Satoru approached the young girl, reaching down to gently pinch her cheek. “So long as it’s sung by the world’s cutest singer.”
—
When everyone was as satisfied as they could be with a quick, convenient breakfast — and your promises of making a big dinner later on — Kento Nanami arrived at your home on time and with polite greetings. He was prepared to use the key you gave him — though it took him a long, long time to actually use it in general rather than knock, and he never used it when his presence wasn’t expected — but the key was rather useless today, as the group of Gojo’s met him at the double front doors, and let him in.
“Okay, so, the twins have been fed, changed, and they’re hanging out in the playpen. Kaia’s not feeling her best today, so she’s more fussy than usual, I’m sorry.” You eyed the blonde-haired man standing in the foyer. “By the way, I hope you don’t have any plans this evening, because you’re staying for dinner. And dessert.”
“Well, it’s a good thing my schedule is clear,” Kento pushed up on his glasses.
He then walked away in search of the twins.
Satoru’s large hands pulled Tomoya’s light jacket around him tighter. Kindly, he asked the boy, “Is there anything you’d like us to buy for you, kid?”
He shook his head.
“You sure? Because I think someone might be a little cookie monster, hm?” As he often did to his children, Satoru, of course, ruffled the boy's dark head of hair.
Tomoya smiled at the idea of cookies.
“Alright, cookies it is. Let’s go.” Satoru took his hand while Maya opened the front door rather excitedly.
“Boys,” you turned to face Yuji and Megumi. “Have a great day. Be safe, keep your phones on, watch out for each other, and Nobara. I don’t want a scratch on her!”
“Yes ma’am, but, uh, Nobara won’t be with us, ‘cause she’s got that leg injury, remember?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.
That’s right. I promised to take her shopping once she felt better, you thought.
As everyone headed out the door, parting in different directions as Yuji and Megumi headed for their ride to the school parked in front of your home, while you, Satoru, Maya, and Tomoya made haste for the SUV, Satoru waved at the two sorcerers he adopted three years ago and said, “Be safe. We love you.”
“We love you too!” Yuji waved back.
And though Satoru smiled as he watched them enter the car, he couldn’t help but think, I should have hugged them.
—
“No . . . no, Megumi doesn’t like cake all that much. I don’t want to make a cake anyway, it’s too predictable and boring. Graduating from Jujutsu High is, well, unique, so their celebration should be unique as well. Yuji? He literally eats everything. I’m not worried.” Yet another phone call occupied your time.
You rested your elbow against the passenger seat door, watching as Satoru returned from the doors of the big elementary school alive with talkative, energetic children tugging on their backpack straps, where he so kindly walked Tomoya to the front doors, keeping an eye out for bullies.
“I’ll call you back. Let me think on it . . . alright, talk to you later.”
You ended the phone call with one of your friends as Satoru pulled his car door open.
“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “Let’s see what these people want with our kid.”
Satoru eyed the young girl in the back seat, and she smiled at him, showing off her missing tooth.
—
It wasn’t long before the three of you stepped into a small room within Jujutsu High. It was rather traditional, as in, surrounded by brown and wood with the occasional plant in a corner, but overall, it was cozy. Suspiciously so.
“Coffee, you two? Juice for your daughter, perhaps?” The man who led you to a couch seated directly across from one of two beige chairs sat down and smiled.
But Satoru did not.
He sat down, made sure you and Maya were seated comfortably beside him as well, and he frowned at the man.
“You guys aren’t normally so nice. Why aren’t we in the big room surrounded by a circle of fools?” Satoru pretended to clear his throat. “Excuse me, I meant to say higher-ups.”
“Because this is not a serious matter, but rather, a polite conversation.” The man paused dramatically. As if he knew his next statement was absurd. “We would like to talk to you both about having your daughter attend Jujutsu High.”
“I’m sorry?” You blinked, leaning forward. “Could you repeat that please?”
“Mrs. Gojo, we-”
“She’s seven,” Satoru whispered darkly. Anger poured off of him like heat from a furnace. “Are you goddamn crazy?”
Grabbing Maya’s hand was an instinctive move as you spoke. “I just don’t- I’m baffled. Like Satoru said, she’s seven, and you want her to attend Jujutsu High? She just turned seven! She hasn’t even been taught multiplication yet!”
There was no room for calmness or polite conversation, as you and Satoru knew how the higher-ups worked. If the Jujutsu Society wanted Maya to become a sorcerer, they would find a way. Back you and Satoru into a corner without any options, somehow.
“We understand your concern, and during her attendance here, she would still learn subjects appropriate for her age level. However, we need sorcerers. You both know just as well as I do that even at the age of seven, she is perhaps as strong as, say, a traditional fourth-grade student already. In time, she will be on par with you, Satoru. In other words, your daughter will still learn multiplication, but also put her training to good use.” The man shifted his eyes between both of you. “If you’ve begun training your daughter already, tell me, why is the possibility of her fighting curses so ridiculous?”
“Almost every kid born into a family of sorcerers starts unofficially training whenever they become aware of curses and their cursed energy. That just happens to be at a young age. It doesn’t mean they’re ready to start killing curses. It just means we don’t want them to be afraid of ‘em or themselves,” Satoru rubbed the dark circles underneath his eyes. “Let’s go.”
He rose off the couch. You and Maya were quick to follow.
“Momma, did you hear Daddy say a bad word? ‘Cause I heard him say it, and you told everyone not to . . . to not say that,” Maya mumbled, looking up at you.
“Think about this. She could save lives. You could protect and guide her yourself, Satoru.” The man stood up. There was a slight tremble of desperation in his voice. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was dealing with the strongest sorcerer of them all, you were certain he would have pressed harder. Followed you out of the building, perhaps.
“I am protecting her,” Satoru paused, eyeing the man coldly as he opened the door for you and Maya. “That’s why the answer is no.”
—
Maya peered out of the car window with great curiosity, wondering just what her dear mom and dad were chatting about outside of the vehicle. She hoped it was food-related, as sometimes, when she had to miss school for important stuff, such as a visit to the doctor or dentist, she would receive a yummy meal or treat afterwards.
Satoru rubbed his face with his hand, looking up at the sky. “Just imagine it. Our sons will be graduating soon, meanwhile, their seven-year-old sister is a first year. It’s ridiculous.”
“Do you think she’s ready, Satoru?” You asked.
“Please don’t tell me you’re considering it.”
“No, of course not! But, should Maya run into a curse and we aren’t around for whatever reason, do you think she could protect herself? It’s been a while since I had the time to watch you two train. I’ve been so busy with the children’s home.”
Satoru pulled out his phone as he went on to say, “Like any kid, I think she’d be scared. But, if we’re just talking in terms of power here, I think she could-”
He froze. His eyes were locked on his phone. Whatever appeared on it, or didn’t, seemed to startle him.
“What’s wrong?” You pinched your brows, frowning with worry.
“The boys haven’t checked in.”
“So they did receive a mission after all, hm? Well, let’s not panic. It’s still early. Have they even made it to the mission location yet?” You tried to smile softly, as if to ease your husband’s anxiety, but it didn’t work. He only pushed a few buttons on his phone.
A map opened on his screen. One that was supposed to show him the locations of his family members.
Megumi’s last known location was two hours ago.
Yuji’s location didn’t register at all.
“Honey,” you pressed your hand against Satoru’s. “We can go check on them. But you know veils can mess with that sorta thing.”
“No. I’m not taking you two with me. It could be dangerous.”
“It’s Yuji and Megumi. You know how strong they are. I’m sure they’re fine and just forgot to check in. Wouldn’t be the first time. And, you just said you think Maya can protect herself. Surely you’re okay with letting us sit in the car while you see why our boys never remember they have phones when we wish they’d remember.”
“No.” Satoru raised his blindfold, staring into your eyes with a worried gaze. It was almost paralyzing. Seeing him this way. “I have a bad feeling.”
“Satoru, it’s okay. I’ll watch over Maya-”
“If something’s wrong, I can’t watch over you,” he interrupted, his tone stern.
“Me?” Your frown deepened. Your eyes grew wide with hurt, and it was a look that Satoru wasn’t familiar with. “So, I was right about what I said last night. You do think I’m too weak.”
He reached out for your arm. “Baby-”
You snatched your arm away from him as if his touch would burn, interrupting his soft speech as with a sad, shocked whisper, “You have more faith in our seven-year-old than you do me.”
Satoru gulped. Your own pain was reflected in his eyes — he could have cried then and there, knowing he hurt his beloved wife’s feelings. Knowing that, right now, you didn’t want to feel his touch.
“That’s not true. But you haven’t used your curse technique in years. I don’t think you’re weak, you’re one of the strongest people I know, but everyone needs to practice to stay sharp, and now isn’t the time to find out if you still remember the basics.” His goal was to explain himself. To be honest, but still speak with a gentle tone that told you he was voicing his concerned thoughts out of a place of love. But his words were like the final nail in a coffin he didn’t know existed. His long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked twice out of shock upon seeing tears threatening to slip down your cheeks.
He reached out, wanting to stroke them away with his thumb, though he wasn’t certain why they existed in the first place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“You'd better go. Like you said, they could need help.” You spoke softly. Too softly. And moved away from him before he could touch you. “I’ll just go to the grocery store.”
“What did I say wrong? Talk to me,” Satoru said.
You only opened the car door and gave your daughter a false smile. “Maya? Let’s go, honey. Your dad has some business to handle.”
As she unbuckled herself, concerned, but quiet, Satoru continued to speak to you — or, rather, your backside. “I’m sorry. Please don’t walk away from me angry. I’m begging you.”
It’s not that he was wrong. Who knew if your inborn techniques, polished by the teachings and missions of Jujutsu High, would all come flooding back to you in the face of danger?
But, there was a secret buried so deep within you, it was only known by you and the person you killed.
It was a mission.
It was an accident.
It was a friend.
It was the result of you going through a bit of a phase, skipping classes and opting to read underneath the afternoon sun rather than practice your abilities.
“You gotta practice to stay sharp!” Your grinning best friend once said.
“I don’t need that much practice, I’m a first-grade! How many people do you know with gravity or telekinesis-based cursed techniques?” You once replied.
And that best friend of yours grinned one final time as he died in your arms, reassuring you that it was okay. That his death, as the result of you crushing his insides with the force of gravity rather than the curse you mistook him for, was okay.
He said those things because he was kind. Because he didn’t want you to live on with guilt. Regret.
But here it was, bringing tears to your eyes years later.
Relying on long walks and public transport was better than facing your husband now, you figured.
It’s not like he truly wants me around right now, anyway, you thought.
With one final, sad look in his direction, you said to him, “I’ll see you at home.”
—
Both Yuji and Megumi had seen their fair share of veils. That came with being a sorcerer and a student at Jujutsu High. But, rarely had they seen one quite so large. Yuji found himself glancing down the isolated roads and alleyways belonging to a deserted part of town — one that normally had bustling activity with people happily going in and out of the various nearby shops and restaurants — but right now, the only other soul Yuji was certain was present was that of the dark-haired sorcerer beside him.
And the ones belonging to the curse users they were supposed to catch.
“Man, this place’s lookin’ like a ghost town. Glad there aren’t any civilians around,” Yuji yawned, walking down the middle of a road, where, before now, several cars would have been.
Even though the road was empty, Megumi still used the sidewalk.
Yuji glanced in his direction, darting his eyes down to the doglike shikigami by his side, then back up to the bright phone in his hand.
“When have you ever been inside a veil and able to use your phone properly?” Yuji grinned a bit. “Who’re you trying to text anyway?”
“No one.”
“Waittt, you like someone?”
Megumi halted his footsteps. He stared at his brother with pure exhaustion. “Please explain to me how you came to that conclusion, Yuji.”
“You’re staring at that phone the same way I stare at a Kit Kat.” Yuji tilted his head a bit. “Kinda unprofessional, by the way. I don’t even text my girlfriend in the middle of a mission.”
“Well, our dad always messages and calls our mother constantly, even during missions. That sort of behavior has worked out in his favor, clearly.”
“Ah-ha!” Yuji rushed up to his brother, his grin so wide, the corners of his mouth started to ache. “So I was right! You are texting someone you like! Who is it? Do I know ‘em? When can I meet ‘em? Do-”
“Shut up.”
“No, this is exciting!”
“Yuji, I mean it. Shut up.” Megumi eyed the black and white demon dog as it sniffed the sidewalk with great urgency. It then turned a corner, gazing down a dark alley.
“I think we found one of the curse users,” Megumi whispered, then nodded his head forward, eyeing Yuji. “After you.”
“After me?”
“After you,” he repeated.
Hand met biceps as Yuji folded his arms across his chest, closing his eyes as if Megumi were the last person on earth he wanted to see. “My own brother’s using me as a sacrifice a few months before we graduate, right when I get a girlfriend, and just when I start to recover from my bad haircut-”
“Nevermind, I’m going.” Megumi walked off into the darkness with great haste and an eye roll.
—
More of them than we thought . . . yeah, that’s what it was, Yuji thought.
He limped slowly.
Blood poured from the burning, gaping wounds spread across his body. His tattered uniform was soaked with that red liquid he was losing too fast.
It painted the road he walked down — one shoe missing, the other nearly destroyed — as if someone were emptying a can of red paint from the dark alleyway he emerged from, to the outside of the veil.
Fighting enemies who use . . . who you can’t see . . . kinda . . . hard, he thought.
His knees slammed against the ground.
There were people nearby. Though his vision was blurry, he could make out the clueless, blissfully unaware individuals strolling down a street in the distance.
If there were people that close, it had to have meant that he was at the edge of the veil. That meant his phone would work. He could call for help.
Part of the back of his hand was missing a layer of skin. But he used the trembling body part anyway to pull his damaged phone out of his pocket.
But it slipped between his broken fingertips; not because he dropped it, no, but because a hand curled around the red hoodie of his school uniform and snatched him backward with a force so great, his neck could have snapped.
He was pulled off the street and down into an abandoned subway.
His phone hit the ground, the last thing his eyes could make out was an incoming call from the one person he was certain could save him: Satoru Gojo.
—
“Yuji?”
No. Please . . . no.
The young sorcerer smacked his head against the ground pretty hard. He certainly had a concession, and, perhaps, he was hearing things.
He prayed and pleaded with any existing god that maybe — just maybe — it was simply his imagination.
And there was no way he was hearing your voice.
Oh, but he was.
He could hear the clicking of your shoes as well. Having lived with you for the last three years or so, he was quite familiar with the sound of your footsteps.
Those shoes were your favorite pair. Black, perfect for every occasion, including your meeting at Jujutsu High that took place earlier that day.
Then, you stepped into Yuji’s view.
The thick blood that trickled from the gaping wound across his forehead was seeping into his eyes. But, although his vision was a mess, he knew it was you. You and his little sister.
Hot tears poured from his eyes at the sight, and that helped his vision clear up enough to see the look of horror on your face.
It wasn’t the look of worry when you realized he showed up to a chilly baseball game without his jacket. Or when he arrived home too late at night. Or when he got scraped up a bit while fighting a curse.
This was a look of paralyzing fear. One that made Yuji’s stomach twist up into knots.
It was impossible to imagine how you felt — seeing him, your son, covered in wounds, leaning against the filthy, smashed-in wall of an underground subway, sitting in a pool of his own blood. Maya’s eyes were wide. Too scared to even cry. She would have nightmares after this, he was certain of it.
Yuji slowly scanned his bloodshot eyes over your trembling body. You were dressed in black pants and a white, long-sleeved buttoned-up shirt he had seen you leave the house in that morning — the beautiful, early morning hour in which everyone was worried about other things, not dying. He would kill to go back to that time. To tell both himself and Megumi to stay home. To flee the country. Anything.
In your right arm, you held a brown paper bag filled with groceries. Peeking out the top, he could see a baguette and fresh lettuce. Among your other purchases in the bag, you had bought the needed items to make Yuji’s favorite sandwich.
What were you doing here? Were you on the way home after grocery shopping? Did you notice the veil? See his phone, perhaps? Why weren’t you and Maya somewhere safe? Where was his dad?
Dropping the brown paper bag, the assortment of groceries fell to the ground. The green apples you had bought for Megumi tumbled away.
You ran to Yuji’s side, falling to your knees. You tried your hardest to wrap your arms around his upper body and lift him, undoubtedly planning on carrying him to the nearest hospital, but you weren’t strong enough.
But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lift him at all.
There was another way.
I could lift him through the air, you thought. But I haven’t done anything like that in years. I could hurt him! I could fling him into a fucking building if I can’t steady myself! Oh god, what if I kill him? There has to be another way to get him out of here.
He noticed the way your eyes darted across every cut, scrape, and bruise. Pain glistened in your gaze when you caught sight of his tears, and you assumed that he was crying from the amount of tremendous pain he must have been in.
But that wasn’t the case.
He was crying because you and his sister were going to die.
Two of the curse users lurked in the distance, several feet away, watching you attempt to care for him, a devilish smirk spread across their scarred faces that were only visible for a moment.
That was their trick. The punchline of a sick joke. They could disappear in an instant, vanish into thin air, and attack.
And, even if you were skilled enough to still seek them out, like Megumi could with his demon dog, it mattered not.
Because they were too fast to be stopped, even when detected. Faster than light, they were.
There was no way those despicable people would let you and Maya walk out of here alive.
“No-” Yuji coughed. Blood spewed from his mouth. It sprayed onto the front of your shirt. “R-Run.”
One of the curse users took a step closer.
And you hadn’t yet left Yuji’s side.
The curse user was moving slowly on purpose. Revealing himself on purpose. Giving slow, haunting footsteps in your direction, taunting Yuji with that smile, treasuring the way more tears fell from Yuji’s eyes with every little movement he made towards you — it was all on purpose.
Yuji was met with worried eyes, eyes that spoke when words failed to fill the silence. Your gaze said, I’m not leaving you.
Snatching off your shirt — as you wore a white tank top underneath — you tried to wrap it around the deep gash on the side of his leg, but the thin material did nothing. All it did was soak your clothes and hands with your son’s blood, and distract you from the villain approaching you slowly.
“Maya, sweetie,” you tried to speak as kindly as you could, but with urgency. “You remember the direction we came from, right? Where all those people were? I need you to-to run in that direction as fast as you can. Find-”
“Who are you? Don’t tell me you’re his mother,” the curse user grinned.
You whipped your head around, making eye contact with one of the bastards who hurt your son.
“Leave her alone!” Yuji shouted.
His body didn’t have the energy it needed to properly support his shouting. As soon as he did so, more blood spilled from between his lips. It poured from his nose as well. The red liquid decorated his chin.
But he had no choice but to force his body to find the energy. Somehow. Some way. The only way you and Maya could survive is if Yuji distracted him while you made a run for it.
Because for you? For his little sister? For anyone whom he called family? He’d happily join his grandpa, Junpei — anyone and everyone he lost — and watch over you all in the afterlife. So long as none of you joined him anytime soon.
Weakly, Yuji tugged on your arm. “Please run, I’m begging you. Please get her and get out of here . . . please . . .”
“I’m not leaving you,” you stared at him sternly, then faced Maya. “Maya, you need to run. Now. Please run as fast as you can. Please, sweetie.”
The curse user took another step, raising a sharp, curved blade. One that was already covered in Yuji’s blood. The vanishing started with his feet. It was as if his bones and muscles, flesh and blood, were easily carried away with the wind. Oh, but he was still there. Still lurking. And he could attack from anywhere, cutting and slicing before one realized what was happening.
Yuji saw it with Megumi.
One second, his brother was by his side.
The next, his brother’s eyes rolled back as if he wanted a view of the inside of his skull, and he collapsed in a pool of his own warm blood.
And Yuji’s mixed with his soon after.
It was Megumi’s winged shikigami who grabbed Yuji by his jacket — at Megumi’s command — and dragged him as far away as it could before that second vanishing curse user attacked it mid-air. But Yuji could still walk. He was, at the time, okay enough to find help before returning to wherever his brother was and fighting like hell.
Until he got dragged into the abandoned subway station.
He managed to kill one, but now, he was in no better shape than Megumi. Was Megumi still alive?
Was he fighting? Or did he die alone, having sacrificed himself for his brother, all the while thinking Yuji didn’t try to make his way back for him?
Yuji gritted his teeth.
His bloodied hands started to tremble.
In a couple of seconds, you and Maya would end up like him. Like Megumi.
“Get the hell out of here! You’ll die!” No longer were gentle tears slipping from his eyes. By now, they soaked his face, creating streaks in the blood coating his skin as he cried. “I’m begging you . . . run . . . please run.”
“Yuji.” Your voice was calm as you spoke. You stared into his eyes with a gentle smile. “Everything will be alright, honey.”
—
There was something rather funny about Yuji’s blood trail.
It was as if he made it towards the edge of the veil, then turned around.
Megumi continued to scrape his skin against the road, dragging himself along the harsh pavement as he propped his elbows up, pulling himself forward again with a pained grunt. Like a pathetic fucking snail.
He was fine with dying in that dark alley, letting himself serve as both a distraction and a sacrifice while Yuji got away, but his demon dog picked up Yuji's scent.
The curse user who was attacking Megumi must have lost interest just as he was preparing to clasp his hands together and die, because it too abandoned him for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. But at least he was alive for now.
The demon dog paced outside of the bright entrance, so eagerly awaiting Megumi’s orders to descend the steps.
“Go,” Megumi coughed out. “Get Yuji. Take-”
Megumi’s words were interrupted by two things:
The uncontrollable, bloodied coughs that spewed from his throat.
And the sudden, deafening rumbling noise that came from the subway station below. Everything started to quake, and with the eye of his that wasn’t swollen shut, Megumi saw the lights of the subway station go out.
Don’t die on me, Mom, Megumi thought.
It was all he could think, truth be told. He couldn’t wrap his mind around anything else. Not around how insanely stupid it was of him to army crawl down the steps leading into the subway station because his legs wouldn’t work — and he was terrified that they never would again, but he was not paralyzed with fear, as he was certain he was going to die today anyway — nor about the fact that, with every passing second, falling debris could crush him.
But he had no other choice but to grit his teeth and bear it, because the second he saw the subway station start to fall apart, he knew you had to be here.
You once told him while in line at the concession stand of a movie theater that your power was based around gravity. Even so, assuming that you were in the subway station, let alone fighting, was nothing more than a gut feeling, one he was risking his life over.
His heart was already pounding wildly due to the intense strain it was under, but when he suddenly looked up and saw Maya, he was certain it was going to give out.
She was being carried through the air, through the exit of the subway station. To safety.
“Follow her . . . get her out of the . . . veil,” Megumi ordered his demon dog.
The shikigami followed his orders with much hesitation over the idea of leaving Megumi behind.
What came next was a moment in time in which Megumi was certain he’d slip into a realm of unconsciousness. His body couldn’t stand it no longer, not what the curse users put him through, nor the extra damage he was doing to himself as he made his way down into what could only be described as pure hell.
You were there. A deep gash ran from the top of your shoulder down to your elbow, but that didn’t explain the look of horror on your face.
That was a result of what Megumi saw next: Yuji, having dived in front of a curved blade meant to pierce your guts, had been impaled.
He fell over. You caught him, screaming.
Though you might have been responsible for the collapsing station, you weren’t immune to the sudden force of rubble falling — no, pouring down from above.
You were too distracted to notice it. Who could blame you? The mother who was certain her boy was dying in her arms?
But Megumi noticed it. Yuji, who held on for dear life and tried not to let his eyes close, noticed it too: the piece of crackling ceiling and the enormous LED light fixture getting ready to fall and crush you to death.
—
He was late. Too many curse users had crossed his path, slowing him down. And he was fucking late.
Satoru hooked his long finger around his blindfold as he stood outside the veil covering a small portion of the town. Maya’s pediatrician’s office was in this area. So was Megumi’s favorite coffee shop — their black coffee was the best, he’d often say.
Often, he’d walk down the lively streets with his family; shopping, emerging from a nice restaurant, it didn’t matter.
Those same streets were isolated now, covered in debris that seemed to originate from a nearby subway station — no. The streets weren’t completely empty.
There was a smaller, crying human running towards him. Call it fatherly instinct, but he kneeled as the unknown child approached him, all before his powerful, overwhelmed eyes showed him that it was his own.
Maya fell against him with a face full of tears and trembling, small arms wrapping themselves around his neck for a comforting hug. Megumi’s black and white demon dog was with her.
“Maya,” Satoru’s voice was just as shaky as his hands. He held her close, whispering, “Tell me what happened. Where is everyone? Where’d you come from?”
Maya pulled away from him. Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to speak. With her dirt covered hand, she first wiped at her teary eyes, then touched her hair — Satoru thought that she was checking to see if her space buns were still intact, and they weren’t — but when she pulled her hand way and stared at what soaked her fingertips, that was when he realized his little girl — his world — wasn’t just covered in dirt, but a bit of blood.
There was a scratch going horizontally across her left arm, another on her right cheek, and of course, a wound somewhere on her head.
Satoru pressed his hand against her cheek. Tears and dirt mixed together as he stroked her skin softly. “Talk to me, Muffin.”
“Everyone’s hurt!” She sniffled.
She went on, on, and on. Momma made her float. Momma destroyed walls and stuff. Blood. A doggie led her to him. Stuff fell on everyone.
“Listen to me, Maya.” Satoru paused, moving his fingers towards the ground, appearing to draw black markings Maya couldn’t quite understand. “I’m gonna show you something very cool, kinda like a magic trick. In a few seconds, you’ll be home with Kenji and Kaia, and Uncle Kento will look after-"
“No!” Maya cried out, wrapping her arms around him as he started to rise to his feet. “Don’t leave me, please, pl-please!”
An ache shot through Satoru’s chest, one that nearly knocked him off his feet. But he continued to draw a detailed circle around her feet.
“It’ll be okay, sweet girl. But I have to make sure you’re safe and taken care of. It’s the only way I can help everyone else. I promise, once I come home, I’ll give you all the sandwiches you want, okay? We'll draw together, and I'll tuck you in for the night. I promise."
Satoru pressed his lips against her forehead. "I love you, Muffin."
A tear fell from his eyes and splattered against her skin. It couldn’t be helped. But he clasped his hands together, and the girl vanished.
—
The subway station was caved in.
That was the sight before Satoru’s eyes — an underground system collapsed on top of the bodies of his family.
Don’t be . . . please, don’t be . . . he couldn’t finish his thoughts. He was certain he’d puke up his insides if he had to attach that haunting, four-letter word to the end of his horrid plea.
His desperate prayer.
Clearing the debris with his cursed technique was easy.
His eyes granted him the gift of tracking down his beloveds by their cursed energy.
With the stairs leading into the subway now somewhat clear of rubble, he stepped down carefully, removing collapsed parts of the ceiling that blocked his path.
He saw Megumi’s shoe before he saw him.
But, a couple of feet away, rubble hovered a few feet into the air. Satoru trailed his eyes down to discover that, underneath it, were three bodies piled on top of each other.
He wasn’t the one making that portion of debris hover. One glance at the two unconscious boys protectively lying on top of you was a crystal clear sign that this was your abilities at work.
Satoru was at your side in an instant.
He pulled Megumi off of you first, checked him for a beating pulse, assuming that his son must have tried to protect you from the rubble, but in the end, it was you who protected him.
Yuji was in even worse shape. There was a deep stab wound in his lower back, one that told Satoru the tale of a protective son tossing himself in front of a blade meant for you. Just like with Megumi, you too saved him from the cave-in.
And there you were.
“Baby,” Satoru called softly, his eyes starting to water.
He didn’t get the chance to hold you close like he wanted before you awoke with a gasp.
The debris that you held in the air fell — tried to, at least. Satoru was quick to move it away with his technique and smash it to bits.
“Baby?” Satoru scooped your injured body into his arms, inspecting your flesh much like a doctor would, and there were too many gashes, wounds, and bruises to count. Your skin was painted red. “Oh god. Look at you. I'm so sorry. Where did they go? The bastards who did this to you?”
You gave him a startled gaze.
Your eyes darted around. Your breath seemed to escape you, rapid and uneasy, and at first, Satoru assumed you were panicking in search of the curse users, but then, your wide eyes landed on the two unconscious boys, and you pushed yourself out of Satoru’s grip.
A cry of pain escaped you with every movement, but that didn’t stop you from dragging your limbs across the destruction that sliced up your skin — not that it made a difference at this point — and you got on your knees.
It was a struggle. Pulling those heavy teenagers close, so you could hold them close.
But you did it anyway.
You leaned their backs against you, wrapped your arms around them as best as you could, and the most heartbreaking sobs Satoru had ever heard filled the dusty air.
They weren’t dead. You could feel the slow rise and fall of their chests against your palms. But this? This was still a mother’s nightmare.
Satoru wanted to hold you. So badly. More than he wanted to breathe.
But you still treated his touch like it scorched your skin.
“Satoru,” you turned your head, staring at him with bloodshot eyes. “I killed one, but the other, I don’t- I couldn’t-”
“It’s okay. I’ll handle it. I need to get you three some help first.” Satoru rose to his feet cautiously. “Please let me help you.”
You shook your head, holding them tighter. Panic wasn’t helping you think clearly. And he was certain a concussion was another underlying cause.
“Megumi,” you cried out, resting your forehead against the back of his slumped head. “Wake up, please.”
You squeezed Yuji tighter. More of his blood decorated your fingers.
“S-Satoru? He’s still bleeding. He’s still- I can feel it. He’s gonna . . . Yuji?”
You released them, placing them back on the ground before hovering over Yuji and pressing your fingers against one of his many wounds, trying to keep it closed, your blood against his.
“Yuji, don’t . . . Yuji wants orange juice . . . and I ha-have to take . . . Tomoya his toast before . . .”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
Satoru caught you before you could completely fall over.
Right before you drifted off into another state of unconsciousness, you could hear Satoru’s panicked calls of your name, feel his tear splatter against your cheek, and take in his touch against the parts of your skin that weren’t ruined.
—
Not too far away from where Satoru’s wife and children were almost buried alive was the corpse of one of the curse users. It was a clan, clearly, operating with an inborn curse technique that specialized in vanishing all the while moving at the speed of light.
Satoru glared down at the man crushed to death underneath the debris, nudging him with his foot.
“Serves you right, you piece of shit,” he said.
But, even with the dead one before him, and the handful he captured or murdered before entering the veil, there were still more.
It was rather humorous how they tried to vanish upon seeing Satoru Gojo’s tall, slow-moving frame head down the dark alley they hid in. As if he were hunting them down like a monster.
As if they weren’t deserving of the terror he would inflict on them.
Satoru couldn’t help but grin and laugh. It was pathetic! It was fucking hilarious!
Oh, he could see them, and he could see them well, though they were technically invisible.
“If I wasn't in a hurry right now, I’d make you three suffer. Burning in hell would be a better fate for you than dealing with me, don’t you think so? But . . .” Satoru raised his hand and crossed his fingers. “I’ll have to settle for this. What a shame. I wanted to see you beg for your life, yeah?”
The last sound to ever travel to the ears of the remaining curse users was Satoru Gojo’s soft-spoken words: Infinite Void.
—
Your eyes were the last ones to open.
And, when they did, an array of worry-filled dark blue and brown eyes met yours.
“You’re awake,” A sad smile of pure relief stretched across Yuji’s bandaged face. “Finally.”
You didn’t have to glance around to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. You could hear the beeping of the medical devices and life-monitoring machines all around you.
“Are you alright?” Megumi asked from where he sat near your hospital bed, but not on it. His hand rested on the arm of his wheelchair.
“Are . . . are you?” You darted your eyes over him and Yuji.
Your boys were dressed in hospital gowns and covered in bandages. There was a cast around Megumi’s leg.
“It’s not permanent, don’t worry.” Megumi looked down at the wheelchair. “We’re fine.”
“Yeah, we’re fine, thanks to you,” Yuji, who sat closest to you, grinned widely. “I didn’t know you could do all that. You’re awesome, Mom! Destroying the entire subway station just like that? You buried that guy alive! And carrying Maya — she’s fine, by the way — but you, carrying Maya through the air to safety? I mean, when Megumi and I got on top of you, I was sure we were gonna get crushed to death, but you stopped the debris before it could fall on us. You had to have been a first-grade, am I right?”
“Listen to me, boys,” you blinked slowly, your voice soft. “Don’t risk your lives for me ever again. Seeing you jump in front of that blade and get stabbed was terrifying, Yuji. Absolutely terrifying. And so was seeing you, Megumi, crawling down into the subway station, both of you piling on top of me, preparing to get crushed? What were you two thinking? I don’t want either one of you thinking you should die for me. Do you understand me?”
“No,” they said in unison.
“We’re not listening to you,” Yuji said. “We’d do it again, and again, and again.”
You sighed, shaking your head. Then, you asked, “Where’s your-”
The man you were going to question the whereabouts of suddenly emerged from the bathroom attached to your hospital room. He was adjusting his blindfold, and you knew your husband quite well; if he was fixing his blindfold, that meant it had been tugged off and on. If he was messing with it, it was only because tears were soaking the black cloth.
“Honey?” Satoru called out in a bit of shock, having not released the door handle to the bathroom just yet.
He was as fast as the curse users you battled earlier, appearing on the other, clear side of your bed. The thin white hospital blanket draped over you was balled up in his fist. It was the best he could do to avoid touching you.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Satoru searched your eyes for any sign that you’d let him feel your skin against his — that you wanted to be held as much as he wanted to hold you.
Your eyes drifted away from him and towards the two teenagers who were rather observant, taking in the sad expression upon your face, and coming to the same conclusion: you were upset with their father.
“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Megumi said.
You wanted to protest, as they left with their fair share of wincing and slow movement, all of which made a lump of guilt form in your throat, but they were right. You and Satoru needed privacy.
The door barely had a chance to shut behind them before Satoru started to speak.
“I can’t express how sorry I am. You gotta believe me when I say I never thought you were weak, I just couldn’t- I can’t stand the idea of losing you, so I had my doubts. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to protect yourself if I wasn’t around, and I’m an idiot for that. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re not wrong.” You couldn’t look him in the eye. “Yuji was praising me for protecting him and Megumi from the cave-in, but I caused it.”
“You did what you could to kill one of the bastards threatening everyone’s life. I know you. You wouldn’t have caused a cave-in unless you knew you could keep them safe. And you did, didn’t you? Yuji, Megumi, and Maya. I’m so proud of you, baby. I am.”
Your eyes grew teary with his praise. Instinctively, he almost reached out to stroke them away from your cheek, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.
“So . . . I never told you this, but I accidentally killed someone.” You paused. Satoru’s facial expression never changed. His frown didn’t deepen with concern. His brows didn’t shoot up to his hairline with shock. Whatever you had to say, he was listening. “It was back in school, long time ago. The average student at Jujutsu High was a third-grade sorcerer, so I, being first, well, I had a bit of an ego. I didn’t think I needed to train. I thought I could . . . do nothing and read and everything would be okay. Then, I ended up killing my best friend. I crushed him. He always, always told me that I should train more, but I never listened. Part of me quit being a sorcerer because of Maya, because I didn’t like it, and all of that is true, but that’s the main reason. Now, I act like I can earn forgiveness by taking care of everyone around me and . . . I try to be this perfect mom, perfect wife, perfect friend, caregiver, whatever. But, in reality, I’m just a murderer, aren’t I? Tell me, what right do I have to view Tomoya’s biological parents as monsters when I’ve literally killed someone before? I’m sorry I never told you. I know we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. I guess I was scared you’d view me differently.”
“It’s okay. I already knew.”
“What?” You gasped. “You knew? How?”
Satoru glanced away from you, looking down at the floor. “Well, let me think. You, my girlfriend at the time, whom I knew everything about, down to many times you'd blink per minute, came back from a mission, but your partner didn’t. You were traumatized, couldn’t look anyone in the eye, and wouldn’t stop fiddling with your clothes or something in your hand whenever you were questioned about it. You stopped talking as much for a long time after that. Tried to push me away, but I was goddamn annoying, so I wouldn’t let you. It just . . .” Satoru paused, looking you in the eye. “It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. But I didn’t know all the details, like how or why it happened. If I did, I never would have said those things about you needing to stay sharp. I’m sorry.”
You started to lower your gaze, but Satoru moved his head closer, leaning down a bit as if to capture your eyes with his, not letting you take those sad eyes of yours off of him. “But I never viewed you any differently because of what happened. It was an accident. There isn’t one sorcerer who hasn’t killed another human, either by accident, or because they had no other choice.”
“It wasn’t what you said, Satoru. It was how you said it. You’re right about me needing to practice every now and then. But if I’m going to stay sharp, I need you to have more faith in me. I know you say you don’t think I’m weak, but I need you to believe that I’m strong. And, maybe, give me a hug-”
Oh, he was fast.
He hugged you, yes, but your face was also showered with kisses, every part of it from your forehead, lips, cheeks, jaw, nose — he was relentless.
“Sounds like they’ve made up!” Yuji’s energetic voice suddenly boomed from the other side of your door.
“Hush, we’re not supposed to be standing here,” Megumi’s quieter, muffled tone came through next.
“Excuse me, get in here!” You opened your mouth in shock.
Like kicked puppies, the two teenagers slowly opened your door. Yuji stepped back inside your hospital room, Megumi wheeling himself in after him.
“Were you two listening outside the door?”
“Not the whole time,” Yuji lied. They heard every last word. “We were just worried.”
“And nosy, apparently,” Satoru shook his head in amused disbelief.
“Well, in our defense, we like to see how you two interact.” Scratching the back of his head, Yuji added, “Watching you two is like receiving free dating advice. Better than Google.”
“We?” You looked at Megumi. “You need dating advice too, Megumi?”
While Megumi’s skin was normally pale, right now, his cheeks started to redden. He looked away, folding his arms across his chest.
“No,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to know how to earn forgiveness. Out of curiosity.”
You and Satoru exchanged knowing grins, but decided not to embarrass your son. Not right now, at least.
“Right, out of curiosity, I see, I see,” you nodded.
“Well boys, as you can see, the best way to earn forgiveness is to be absolutely pathetic,” Satoru rose to his feet, grinning proudly. “By pathetic, I mean apologetic. In some situations, it doesn’t matter who’s right and who’s wrong. Sometimes, you’re both right and wrong, you get what I mean? I can’t speak for everyone else, but for me, making my wife happy matters more to me than being right.”
“Happy wife, happy life, huh?” Yuji said thoughtfully.
“That’s right.” Satoru approached the two of them. “But, I can give you both plenty of dating advice in the future. For now, come here.”
They were expecting head ruffles.
But, what they received instead, was a warm embrace.
Megumi was hugged first. Yuji smiled upon the sight of it, knowing that he was next.
And he practically flew into Satoru’s arms once they opened for him.
“I’m so proud of you two,” Satoru said. “You guys can survive anything, huh? Thanks to my amazing wife, at least.”
“Oh, stop it,” with a shake of your head, you continued with a little frown, “On another note, I’m glad everyone’s alive and somewhat well, but I have to go back to the grocery store.”
— TWO WEEKS LATER —
“After a careful review of presented evidence, testimony, and intentions, the court finds that intentions do not and never will outweigh a consistent pattern of neglect inflicted by the biological parents. The child must come first. Therefore, as the court rules in favor of Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, the request made by the biological parents to halt the petition for adoption has been denied, and permanent custody and the adoption of Tomoya Kase has been granted to Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, effective immediately.” The courtroom remained silent following the judge's words, but only for around five seconds. Enough time for the realization to sink in.
“Are you fucking serious? Mrs. Gojo fucking kidnapped him! They stole my son!”
“Mrs. Kase-”
“She’s covered in-in bruises! Some of her children are covered in bruises! I don’t believe any of the bullshit about a group or gang attacking them. They’re up to something and only God knows why! Just when was it fucking legal to grab kids out of the park?”
The disaster of a woman known as Tomoya’s mother was inconsolable. The judge tried to interrupt. Officers guarded her from making her way over to your side of the courtroom, where your unfaltering grin made her oh so angry.
“Your own son barely recognized you, Mrs. Kase,” the judge fired back — call it unprofessional, but he couldn’t stand that woman.
Over the last several weeks, he and the social workers had done it all. They met with Tomoya, who was initially shy and barely spoke, his preferred form of communication being nods and shakes of his head. Until you were brought up, at least.
“She’s really nice. We hug a lot,” he mumbled.
The case had become widespread news appearing on social media, the news channel on people’s television, and it was no longer a private matter, but rather, the court of public opinion as well.
Everyone with a career revolved around child care was involved in one way or another. Several people often walked around your big home, inspecting it, questioning your children. They did the same thing with your children’s home.
The cosy building was filled with orphans who were as happy as they could be, and not one of them had anything negative to say about Mrs. Gojo. Even the ones who hated the idea of vegetables appearing on their plates during meal time.
As far as they knew, Satoru Gojo was a teacher at a private school, one who adopted his two parentless, high school students, and that was that.
The judge figured that, if what you had done was technically considered kidnapping, and he’d have to technically place you in a world of trouble, then similar trouble would have to be inflicted upon with the teachers, the school counselors — everyone who had a hand in ignoring Tomoya’s neglected state until the Gojo’s got involved. Everyone had technically done something wrong.
Then, of course, there would have been riots outside the courthouse had you and Satoru received any punishment.
And the government knew exactly why you and some of your family members were all scraped up.
Therefore, if the worst thing you two had done was house a child with nowhere to go, feed him, pay for his dentist and doctor visits, get him a nice pair of glasses, and more clothes than even he, a well-paid fifty-year-old man had? Then he’d forgive it.
You and your husband walked hand in hand out of the courtroom. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved in your faces.
“Mr. Gojo, how do the claims of you paying the court to rule in your favor make you feel?”
“Mrs. Gojo! Mrs. Gojo! Do you fear the idea of Tomoya’s parents resorting to drastic, illegal measures to get their son back?”
“Why are you and some of your kids covered in bruises, Mrs. Gojo? Were you really attacked by a violent gang, or is that just a cover story?”
“Thank you for saving that boy! You’re a hero!”
“Mrs. Kase has a right to a second chance with her son! Let her fix her mistakes! Give him back!”
“Congratulations! You're both angels for finding that poor child!”
The overlapping chatter went on, on, and on as you both descended the steps. Satoru squeezed your hand supportively and kissed the side of your head.
But their words mattered not. What truly mattered was the fact that, despite all the horrors this world had to offer, your children were as happy as they could be, be it the ones who were adopted or biological, the ones you loved from a distance, such as Satoru’s students, old and new, and the souls in desperate need of love within your children’s home.
There was a pleasant smile on your face as you and Satoru were escorted to your vehicle parked outside the courthouse. After all, Yuji was bringing his girlfriend over for dinner. Megumi was sleeping off the last bit of his pain meds in his cozy, big bed and freshly washed sheets. Maya was at school, showing her friends the cute hairstyle you had given her. Your twin babies were practically overwhelmed by their countless amount of potential toys to play with. The dolls? The toy train? The building blocks?
And tomorrow morning, you would be able to make Tomoya his special toast, and everything would be just fine.
This fic has everything one needs to laugh, cry, and yell in anger 😭😭😭. On a serious note, tho, lol, this was such a good read. I barely paid attention to the length because it was that good!! 10/10 as always, Tay! 🫶🏾🌸
your feral gojo fic does things to me… you should consider making more pls 🙏🙏 other than that i would one day love to see feral nanami :3 well yk not rlly feral but nanami being furious over his wife’s life being threatened n stuff ykwim TY I LOVE UR WRITING BTW
“APOLOGIZE.”
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A curse user has made the incredibly stupid decision to kidnap you, Nanami’s wife. And, well, it goes without saying that Nanami is protective over you. Very protective.
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || dark content, fem reader, angst, violence, kidnapping, descriptions of wounds, blood, and injuries, derogatory language, minor character death. Nanami doesn’t play about his wife!
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4K
♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Requester, I think I overlooked the “not really feral” part until I was pretty much done with the fic, and Nanami is very unhinged in this. I’m sorry! I hope that’s okay! || artwork by @/shesdeny on instagram, permission for use granted!
The lavish restaurant offered the perfect date night ambience: live music, extraordinary food, and a dimly lit environment that, in truth, was much too dark for Kento Nanami’s liking, but at least he could still see the way your eyes sparkled as you rambled to him.
As Kento brought his glass of silky wine to his lips, he watched you reach for the warm bread in the basket at the center of the table.
Dipping it into the seasoned dipping oil, you took a bite of the sliced piece from the soft loaf as you detailed your last experience with this particular high-end steakhouse.
“ . . . the steak tasted like tires — tires, Kento — but the lobster was amazing! Still, though. I told Felicity that it’s absolutely crazy for a steakhouse to serve steak that I’m certain was made out of rubber bands or something.”
“How is it now? The steak?” Kento asked, nodding down at the half-eaten piece of meat on your plate.
“Delicious and tender,” you smiled at him warmly. That grin of yours? Well, it did something to him. The poor man had to clear his throat and adjust his tie a little bit — even after six years of marriage, your smile always managed to turn his cheeks into a light shade of red.
“They must've changed how they cook ‘em,” you added.
“That, or,” Kento’s hand reached for a piece of bread as he spoke. “I went out of my way to make sure it would be cooked to your liking.”
With a little laugh, you joked, “What? Don’t tell me you threatened the poor chef.”
“Of course not. Only a fool would be rude to the person preparing their meal. If I were, I’d imagine he would have actually served us car tires.”
“And from our own car as well!”
The sound of shared laughter between you and Kento blended in with the cellist’s beautiful melody.
It was perfect. Every bit of it.
The live, talented musicians. The delicious meals. The sight of you, his gorgeous wife, laughing, smiling, and talking throughout the evening.
It was perfect.
Until Kento’s phone started to vibrate in his pocket.
You could hear the low humming noise from where you sat.
“Who’s that?” You asked.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re on a date.”
“But it could be important, right? Sorcerers can’t really afford to miss any phone calls.” Grabbing your knife and fork, you cut off another piece of your steak. “It’s fine, honey. One phone call won’t ruin this date.”
Kento wanted to stand by his beliefs; by the standards he set for himself. Accepting phone calls during a date was rude. Just as rude as showing up carelessly late, or wearing a t-shirt and jeans.
Call it a gut feeling — or common sense, as he purposely put his phone on Do Not Disturb except for a few contacts he knew would only reach out in the case of an emergency — but Kento knew something was wrong.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. His eyes narrowed down on the screen that illuminated his frowning face, and there it was.
The confirmation that something was indeed wrong.
Kento answered the phone call. “What is it? I’m busy at the moment.”
The person on the other line talked for quite some time. Though you couldn’t quite make out their words, you had managed to get down three solid bites of steak before Kento spoke again.
“Right,” he said, then promptly ended the call.
“Something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine,” He lied — yet again going against the standards he set for himself. “Would you excuse me for a couple of minutes? I need to get some fresh air. I won’t be long.”
“Woah, woah, hey,” you called out before he could scoot his chair back, noticing the way his eyes, which always softly gazed at you with pure love, refused to meet yours. “I know that look. There’s a curse nearby, isn’t there?”
“No, of course not.”
“Mighty suspicious for a man who nearly passed out over the idea of accepting a quick phone call during a date suddenly being okay with vanishing for a few minutes.” You leaned across the table just a bit. Just enough for him to understand you were quite serious. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on, Kento?”
Kento sighed. But he gave in. He always did when it came to you.
“There’s a curse user a few blocks away-”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“But I could serve as a distraction, and you could sneak up on them, and then-”
“Then nothing. This curse user already outranks me. He’s a special-grade, one we’ve been trying to find for years now. For him to be hanging around outside nearby means that I could be walking into a trap, and I will not use my own wife as bait. I won’t be able to focus if I know you’re around. I need you to stay here, where I know you’ll be safe.”
Kento rose from his seat.
This was, to him, an unnecessary conversation, after all. He would sooner die during a battle with a curse or curse user than drag you into a fight with him.
“Kento, Kento, wait. Please. Why are you about to walk into a special-grade curse user’s setup?” You grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past your seat. “Please don’t go. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Oh, he did too. His heart rate quickened at the idea of his forthcoming mission. Kento couldn’t look you in the eye as he spoke — it was starting to become too much.
“I have to. I can hardly sleep at night knowing someone like him is roaming the streets. Someone who wouldn’t think twice about hurting you or killing you while you’re just on your way to the bakery or . . .” Kento released a shaky sigh. He tried to keep his voice low, not wanting to disturb nearby diners or live classical music enthusiasts, and he continued, “So I have to go. I have to do whatever I can to make this world a safer place for you.”
“Kento, I don’t like this. You know my gut feelings are always spot on. Just last week, I had a feeling that something was off with the dryer, and next thing you know, it broke. I had to squeeze out our towels in the sink and stick them outside until you were able to fix it, remember? Then there was that time when we ordered takeout sushi and I had a bad feeling about it. I didn’t seem spoiled or anything, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we should’ve ordered pizza instead. That next morning, we were both sick.”
Kento looked into your eyes then. The composed man tried to hide his true feelings; that underneath his cool, calm, and collected attitude, there was this feeling of terror he couldn’t quite shake.
“Sweetheart, I’ll be just fine.” He leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I promise.”
And with that, you gave him a little nod though you frowned with great disapproval, and Kento walked through the restaurant’s doors just as the live musicians finished playing a breathtaking song.
—
It was well into the evening on a Wednesday night. Kento was rather busy, and therefore, he had to squeeze in date nights whenever he could — and, damn it all, he would — but being that it was a school and work night for most, the streetlight-illuminated roads were void of people for the most part, especially once he made a left turn into a dark alley.
Kento was tracking the curse user by the residuals he left behind at each location he visited, like a detective following footprints, but the man was no longer here.
He’s sending me on a wild goose chase, Kento thought.
It was like a never-ending game. After all, a special-grade curse user like himself could have decided not to leave behind any residuals. So, for all Kento could have known, he could have chosen to let Kento wander around in alleys like this, meanwhile, his true whereabouts were unknown.
—
Something wasn’t right.
He was taking too long.
You listened to the musicians play song after song. Finished your glass of wine. But, as your leg shook and you continuously checked your phone for the time, you couldn’t simply sit in the high-end steakhouse any longer.
He’s not gonna like knowing I paid the bill, you thought, a small smile spreading across your face at the thought of your classy husband and his gentlemanly tendencies.
But where was he?
You walked down the isolated streets, holding on to the bagged leftovers from your dinner. All you wanted to do was heat the food and enjoy it at home with Kento, then snuggle up in bed where you were both safe. Safe and together.
Glancing around at the empty shops and stores around you made you realize just how far you had strayed from the restaurant. You halted your footsteps, looking back in the direction from which you came.
This area was creepy. The orange streetlights were doing little to shine upon your surroundings, and the lack of people; it was all a telltale sign of incoming doom, you knew it. But what you didn’t know was whether or not your husband was right in the middle of it.
There was a figure approaching you, and three realizations fluttered in and out of mind:
It wasn’t Kento. The stranger lacked his solid build, blonde hair, and clothes suitable for fine dining.
You were happy to see another person walking around this suspicious area.
The person was headed straight for you, and suddenly, you weren’t so happy.
It was a man dressed in black clothing, one who walked fast and with purpose. You found your legs moving on their own, taking two tentative steps back. Your mind and body were in sync. Your mind screamed for you to run, run, and run, while your body turned in the opposite direction, neverminding the fancy dress that clung to your body, or the high heels you were, before now, quite excited to wear.
But it didn’t matter. The stranger’s hand suddenly came into your view and slammed against your mouth, covering it, and muffling the squeal that tried to fight its way out of your throat.
He was further away mere seconds ago. For him to have caught up to you, lightning fast . . . it dawned on you then.
This was the curse user Kento was looking for.
Your eyes went wide. Tears fell from them. You tried — tried like hell — to implement the self-defense techniques from the classes Kento asked you to take, but while an elbow to the gut might have stunned a regular person, this curse user only smiled.
His hand slipped away from your mouth for a second.
It was a second you took advantage of, inhaling a bit of air before screaming, “Help, please!”
He grabbed you then. He lifted you over his shoulder. Your high heels were no longer touching the sidewalk. The food you were carrying slipped from your hands, splattering across the ground.
Pointless screams and calls fell from your lips: “Let me go! Please, let me go!” “Someone help!” “Kento! Kento!”
But, as you were being carried away, as you struggled and squirmed, it hit you then why this curse user no longer bothered to cover your mouth.
There was no one around who could save you.
—
Kento Nanami was often praised for being a sorcerer who had his head screwed on straight. After all the gore and violence he had witnessed, he was still what most would consider to be an ordinary man with a decent mental health state.
That was why he stopped walking the second he heard what sounded like the sound of your voice, screaming his name. It was faint. Came from far enough away that it might as well have been the wind blowing past his ear.
But he hadn’t ever heard voices in the wind or hallucinated figures along the walls, but . . . but you were fine, right? You had to be. You were sitting in the restaurant, waiting for him, right?
He turned his head back and forth along the empty sidewalk, but in the end, his gut told him something was wrong.
Damn what the higher-ups would say. He was worried about his wife right now. He was certain you must’ve been worried about him too.
Therefore, he tugged on his tie a bit, and headed back to the restaurant, abandoning his search for the curse user.
—
“Did you see this woman leave this establishment?”
Kento asked the hostess frantically once he noticed a new couple was sitting in your previous spots. He held his phone up to her face, and her startled eyes glanced up at a grinning photograph of you.
“I-” she stammered. “Yes, she left a while ago.”
“Thank you,” Kento rushed out, and then practically bolted out of the see-through doors.
You were gone. His wife was gone.
He felt it then, his heart rate quickening, his breathing becoming uneasy.
Kento stood outside the restaurant, scanning his surroundings to see if, perhaps, you wanted to get some fresh air, but you were the love of his life. And he knew you quite well.
He knew you went off, searching for him after he didn’t return within a reasonable amount of time.
Kento opened a map on his phone. One that would reveal your location to him. The beautiful photo of you he set for your contact was unmoving, as if his wife were standing on a random sidewalk. As he started to run in that direction, his palms broke out into a sweat.
He was headed in the supposed direction of the curse user’s whereabouts.
—
When Kento stumbled upon the mess made along the sidewalk, he both wanted to cry, and kill someone.
To-go boxes were scattered about, leftover food spilled and splattered. Among the mess was your cracked cell phone.
“Oh my god,” Kento whispered to himself. “She’s . . .”
You’re what, exactly? What became of you? Where were you?
—
It took an hour.
One hour.
One fucking hour before Kento was able to track down the clever curse user.
The sorcerer stepped into a dark alley. He was heaving, his teeth clenched. His hand gripped the handle of his blade so hard, his knuckles turned white.
The special-grade curse user stepped out from behind a dumpster then, a gentle smile upon his face, his hands in his pocket.
“You took her.”
The curse user’s smile widened at the sound of Kento’s voice — at the sound of his anger — and he laughed lightly.
“Oh, hey, I know you. Mr. Nine-to-five, seven-to-three, ten-to-six — something like that, right? For you to be here now, you must have started your day later than usual, or . . .” The curse user vanished behind the dumpster, but only to roughly drag out what Kento assumed was a bag of garbage. But he was wrong. It was you. “I made the right decision when I captured this thing I saw you eating dinner with. You care enough about someone to work overtime, hm? How sweet.”
The curse user released the grip he had on your hair, letting you hit the filthy ground.
Kento’s eyes went wide at the sight of you. But not out of the shock of discovering his wife was here, but upon seeing the condition you were in.
The horrible condition.
Both of your high heels were broken. The destroyed shoes loosely clung to your feet, and Kento trailed his eyes over the palette of colorful bruises and cuts that spread across your trembling legs. Your dress was tattered and ripped in random places, and though your dress was red, he could tell the difference between the fabric and your blood stains.
The diamond necklace you wore was soaked in the wet blood that seeped from your mouth, down your neck, and across your heaving chest.
Your face was a drastically different sight compared to the stunning photograph of you, smiling. The one he sent to all of his friends.
He couldn’t see the makeup you took the time to excitedly apply in preparation for your date. He couldn’t see the cheeks he loved to kiss every morning, nor the lips he cherished feeling against his own every night.
Instead, he saw an enormous, bleeding gash running from the top of your ear, across your cheek, and through your upper lip. Your eye was swollen. Blood and tears coated your skin so much so, you would nearly inhale it into your mouth and choke.
The curse user raised his foot.
He brought it down on your injured head — a yelp shot out of your throat — and your head was smushed between the ground and his boot.
Kento charged at him — he tried, at least.
The curse user raised his hand, and suddenly, Kento’s body froze. He couldn’t move a muscle.
Of course. This special grade had the power to halt moving objects and people as he saw fit.
He didn’t use it as often as one would think, a sick bastard like him enjoyed watching his targets struggle, but he could feel the anger practically radiating off of Kento Nanami, and he refused to take his chances.
“Ah, ah, ah. Not another step,” the smiling curse user said. “Are you one of those men that like ‘em dumb? ‘Cause your wife isn’t that bright, ya know? Wandering the streets all alone, searching for you, I bet. You told her not to follow you, didn’t you? You ought to train your little bitch to follow orders better. What a useless dog.”
“Ken-to-”
“See what I mean? I told her not to speak, scream, or any of that, but she just won’t shut up. How do you put up with her talking, talking, and talking non-stop?” The curse user removed his foot from your head. His hand gripped your hair yet again, yanked you back so roughly, a burning pain soared throughout your scalp, and he wrapped his other hand around your blood-covered neck. “I’ll shut her pretty little mouth up for you permanently.”
The curse user started choking you right before Kento’s eyes.
Your bruised hands and split fingernails clawed at his skin, but it did nothing. Your legs started to squirm from pure panic, and Kento could do nothing except watch.
Out of the corner of the curse user’s eye, he noticed Kento’s body starting to tremble.
His satisfied smile changed into a confused frown.
He looked up at him fully, and his lips parted, a gasp escaping him as he saw your husband’s hand started to rise. He could only move slowly. And fighting against this cursed technique hurt like hell.
But he could still move.
Impossible.
Your husband’s fingers hooked around his tie, and he pulled it off, then wrapped it around his hand.
The curse user barely had time to blink before he felt the impact. He was in the air for a second, uncertain if he was hit with a fist or a blade, but whatever it was, it made his skull ache terribly, but that didn’t terrify him nearly as much as the fact that this man could move right now.
His back smacked against the ground with an unpleasant thud. Blood spewed from his mouth, and he heard haunting footsteps. Ones that belonged to the pissed-off sorcerer, who he swore — he swore — had doubled in size compared to the pictures his fellow curse users had shown of him.
“How can you move? You-”
Kento interrupted the curse user by slamming his wrapped fist into his mouth.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Hurting my wife? Speaking to her that way?” He did it again. And again. And again. “I’ll shut you up permanently."
You scooted yourself into a corner beside the dumpster, gasping for air as you watched your husband stand over your attacker and continuously smash his face in until he experienced a pain greater than your own.
The curse user gagged.
“Listen to that. The sound of you choking on your own teeth. It sounds like music to me,” Kento said darkly.
His fist was covered in blood. The curse user’s face was a mess of said blood. But Kento wasn’t finished. He thought about how terrified you must have been. How much your wounds must have hurt. How someone as kind as you was undeserving of the pain you were in.
God, he wanted to kill this bastard, bring him back to life, and kill him again.
The curse user turned his bloodied head to the side, trying to spit out some of the blood filling his mouth, but Kento placed his foot on the man’s head, squishing him in between his shoe and the ground — just like he had the nerve to do to you, Kento’s precious wife, earlier.
“I can’t let you die just yet. You tortured the love of my life. I think it’s only fitting I prolong your suffering until you’re on your knees before her, apologizing,” Kento kneeled, grabbing the curse user’s hand. “These are the hands you hurt her with, hm? I don’t think you have any further use for them.”
You knew what was coming when Kento grabbed his wrapped blade. You closed your eyes — though your swollen one was practically already closed — and you brought your trembling, injured hands to your ears, but you could still hear the curse user’s ear-piercing screams.
The curse user had only cried twice before in his life. When he fell during a game of tag as a toddler, and now.
Now, tears poured from his eyes, and he was spewing gibberish that Kento couldn’t quite understand for a moment. Not until he saw the apologetic look in the man’s teary eyes.
“What are you trying to say? Are you trying to apologize to me? Why?” Kento raised his bloody blade. “She’s the one you had the audacity to disrespect. She’s the one you put your filthy hands on. She’s the one. And after all of this, you still don’t respect her enough to think she’s worthy of her own, sincere apology, do you?”
Kento grabbed the man by his short hair. He then dragged him in your direction before tossing his limp body in front of your trembling figure.
“Apologize to my wife, then I’ll send you to hell where you belong. Apologize.”
More gibberish. It wasn’t good enough — the man couldn’t speak, after all, but it didn’t matter how great his apology was.
He was going to die.
Kento kicked the curse user in the side.
He sent him flying, rolling across the dirty ground, and Kento approached, daydreaming about all the ways he’d take a life tonight.
By now, Kento’s blonde hair, which was usually neat, was messy with sweaty blonde strands sticking to his forehead. He took off his blood-covered suit jacket, tossing it on the ground, and the shirt he wore underneath was unbuttoned, stained, and revealed his bulging muscles and veins.
Kento raised his fist. The tie he wrapped around it was not only covered in the blood of the curse user, but dotted in the blood from Kento’s splitting knuckles as well, but he didn’t care. He punched that man like his life depended on it.
—
As time passed, it wasn’t until a large hand wrapped around his wrist, seizing his movements, did Kento realize he had beaten another man to death.
“That’s enough, Nanami. He’s dead.”
The voice belonged to Satoru Gojo. Kento recognized it, even with that rarely-heard serious tone, but he hadn’t yet bothered to look at the white-haired man just yet. His eyes were still on the curse user.
Kento rose to his feet then, breathing heavily.
“He hurt her.”
“I know. I saw her,” Satoru replied, though he hadn’t yet let go of Kento’s wrist. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to do so. “Take a coupla deep breaths, okay?”
Kento didn’t listen. He snatched his arm away from Satoru with a strength that even surprised the world's strongest sorcerer, and he made his way over to you.
Satoru watched him walk away as their assistant, Kiyotaka Ijichi, approached him from behind.
“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Satoru said to the dark-haired man, watching as Kento got down on his knees before you. “Knowing he beat a special-grade curse user to death is just terrifying. I mean, look at that guy.”
Satoru glanced down at the deceased curse user, and Kiyotaka did the same, adjusting his glasses.
“That man died half an hour ago, and Nanami was still . . .” Satoru released a breath. “It’s my fault. I should’ve gotten here quicker. Then, maybe, his wife would’ve been fine, and he wouldn’t have had to go that far.”
“Well, at least they’re both still alive. We should be grateful for that,” the assistant said, then turned, making his way back to his parked car just outside the alley.
—
Kento gently scooped you up, holding you against him. “Come here, sweetheart. It’s okay. I know it hurts. You must be freezing.”
You tried to turn away from him, not wanting your husband to see the state that your face was in, but he softly touched your chin and guided your teary gaze back in his direction.
He held you close then. Trying his hardest to keep you warm.
Kiyotaka approached cautiously with a purple blanket in hand. He reached down slowly, and held it out to Kento, who took it and said, “Thank you.”
The disheveled man wrapped the blanket around your trembling body, only pausing when he heard you trying to speak — an utterly painful act, thanks to your crying, your bruised throat, and your split lip.
“This is . . . this is all my fault. I just wan-wanted . . .”
“Shhh, don’t try to speak. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I never should have left you alone. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Kento’s thumb graced the dried specks of blood on your cheek. “I can’t believe someone did this to you. I can’t believe I . . .”
“Shhh,” You shook your head. The last thing you wanted was for him to blame himself.
“We’re going to take you to the hospital. Close your eyes and get some rest.” Kento rose to his feet with you in his arms. As gently as he could — with a gentleness that was a sharp contrast compared to the way he brutally murdered someone moments before — Kento pressed a kiss against your forehead. “I love you. And I promise you no one will ever hurt you again.”
PLEASE do a one shot where gojo and reader announce the pregnancy to the whole family i beg
DOUBLE TROUBLE ୨୧
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Last year, you & your husband, Satoru, adopted two of his teenage students, Yuji & Megumi. You also have a biological five-year-old girl, and now? You’re pregnant with twins! How does your chaotic family handle your pregnancy & two new members of the family?
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || contains fluff, smut, tiny bit of angst. pregnancy & birth, fem reader, canonverse, brief mentions of depression & suicidal thoughts, feral/protective gojo, “uncle” nanami, brief “aunt” shoko, & “uncle” geto, gojo being the best dad and husband ever!
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: . . . 14k :)
♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn't necessary. also, i apologize for any inaccuracies regarding pregnancy/labor! || artwork by @/3-aem, ribbon dividers by @/cursed-carmine!
THE NEWS
“We’re homeee!”
The double front doors shut with a gentle slam, and in walked Yuji with Megumi lingering behind him.
“Mom? Dad?” Yuji called out yet again, darting his eyes around the big foyer for any sign of life — the sound of you whipping together an afternoon snack, the excited ramblings belonging to their little sister — your biological daughter — Maya, or Satoru’s heavy, yet comforting footsteps making their way down the hall; the usual noises they came home to.
“Momma?” Yuji tried once more. Stepping further into the foyer, he leaned down to take off his red shoes. “Anybody home?”
“I think it’s just us,” Megumi, who too started to remove his shoes, spoke up. Was it out of worried curiosity, or was he simply tired of hearing Yuji shout? The truth was unclear.
But he did know one thing.
He, for the most part, was a well-behaved teenager. Rarely did he ever find himself in trouble, and when those all-too-rare moments occurred, it was usually because he was wandering the streets too late at night, failed to check in on time during his missions, or he got lost in his latest nonfiction book while at the park — and thus, didn’t realize that the afternoon sunlight was no longer illuminating the pages of Of Wolves and Men by Barry Lopez, but the moon and nearby streetlight were.
Those days, he would always arrive home, later than promised, and he’d hear the hurried footsteps coming from the warmly lit living room all before being met with the worried frowns that belonged to you and Satoru.
One of the many purposes behind the Gojo household’s group chat was for those unfavorable scenarios. While it served as a form of family communication for good morning texts, chore reminders, last-minute items to add to the grocery list, and any silly videos Yuji or Satoru wanted to send, the main purpose it served was as a check-in.
“You’re teenagers. You guys are very independent, and up until now, you never needed to let anyone know your whereabouts. I get it. And I don’t care if you guys wanna, I don’t know, catch a movie after running an errand or something like that. All I ask is that you send a text message to the family group chat so we don’t worry, okay?”
Those were the words you spoke to Megumi and Yuji during the week following their adoption.
Megumi couldn’t quite believe that had happened a year ago. A year.
And he didn’t understand it at the time. The protectiveness. But, either way, he knew just how much it mattered to you.
It wasn’t a one-sided expectation either. You and Satoru also took the time to alert him and Yuji whenever an unplanned circumstance occurred.
That was what initially led to a wave of worry washing over Megumi, because as Yuji started to walk through the house, calling for you, Megumi pulled his phone out of his pocket.
His lock screen only held seven notifications: a reminder to take his antidepressants, two text messages from Maki, three text messages exchanged between Nobara and Yuji in their class group chat, and a photo Satoru sent to the family group chat of Maya’s dinosaur painting from school; a photo that was sent hours ago.
There was nothing that explained your current absence.
Yuji returned to the foyer as Megumi tried to refresh his messages and double-check his wifi connection.
“They’re not here,” Yuji, who leaned against the wall, let the corners of his mouth fall into a small frown.
“They didn’t send a text either,” Megumi glanced up from his phone. “I know they’re alright, but-”
“But it’s weird, right?”
“Yeah,” Megumi replied, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his school uniform.
“Mom and dad have been acting weird lately in general if you ask me,” as Yuji spoke, he pulled out his own phone, checking his lock screen — which was a picture of the entire family, along with Nobara, at a baseball game — and his frown deepened at the sight of no new text messages. Megumi was right.
“I’m gonna call ‘em,” Yuji shrugged, strands of his pinkish hair tickling his forehead. “Can’t hurt.”
Yuji dialed the number under your contact and put the phone on speaker. The two boys listened in a thick silence as the phone rang four times. Just as another wave of worry was about to make Megumi fidget with his hands, the ringing was abruptly cut off.
“Hello?” You answered.
“Mom!” Yuji’s eyebrows shot up, and Megumi moved closer towards the phone. Alas, they knew you were just fine.
“That’s me,” You joked, but then, with all the care and worry of a mother that you held in your heart, you softly asked, “Is everything alright, honey?”
“Yeah, we’re fine, it’s just that, uh, we’re home and you guys aren’t here. You didn’t send a message either. Where are you?”
“Hold on one second.” The boys heard you pull away from the phone. Then, they heard a sudden, faint shout. “Satoru! Our kids are worried about us!”
“See? Told you they liked us,” Satoru’s voice came through the phone speaker, distant, but ever-present.
“Huh? Was that even a real concern? Same kids who panic when you have a small cold, here.” Yuji paused. “Where’d you guys go, anyway?”
“We’re in the backyard.”
With a blink, Yuji darted his brown eyes up at his glaring brother. “Ohhh.”
“You idiot, you didn’t check the backyard?” Megumi’s hand met his forehead, and he closed his eyes in utter disbelief.
“I forgot about it!”
—♡ —
When Satoru was young, he didn’t enjoy relaxing in the grass and daydreaming about his future. There was too much chaos going on in the present, in his opinion. However, when the overconfident teenager with messy white hair, blacked out sunglasses and a foolish grin imagined his future now and then, he pictured himself living in the city, surrounded by wild people, alcoholic beverages, and the finest decor that represented both his unique taste and astonishing wealth.
Those rotten daydreams were a direct result of how he was raised — not as a person, but as a god.
Then, one day, he met you.
That overconfident teenager with messy white hair, blacked out sunglasses, and a foolish grin walked into his first class at Jujutsu High School, and he saw the most stunning girl — he was certain he had overused his Six Eyes, and his otherworldly perception of his surroundings was skewed, but no. That wasn’t the case.
You were truly that stunning.
You turned your head, facing the fellow first year standing in the doorway from where you sat in the first row of the majorly empty classroom, and you smiled at him.
It was a shy, friendly grin.
But oh, that was enough.
The Satoru Gojo was no longer a god. He was a blushing fool, one who tripped over his own feet when he tried to take a step forward, one whose throat dried to a crisp when he tried to say hi, and a pathetic squeak came out instead.
His dreams changed then. When that stumbling teenager with sweaty white hair, crooked sunglasses, and a flushed face imagined his future, he pictured himself living in a house big enough for the enormous family he wanted to have some day, surrounded by his loved ones, the gifts he would adorn them with, and photographs of his big, big family at festivals, birthday parties, and holiday gatherings hung upon the walls.
That was why, currently, Satoru grinned as he flipped over a steak on his grill, watching as his two boys emerged from the back door. To his left, Maya was creating a Magical Meal composed of grass, dirt, sticks, leaves, and whatever else she could find in the backyard. To his right, you were relaxing on the outdoor sofa in the patio area, sipping on water with one hand, and holding a novel with the other.
It was a dream come true.
“What’s going on? Is it someone’s birthday?” The question came from Yuji, who collapsed onto the empty, light blue sofa cushion beside you.
“Nope. Your mother and I just have some pretty big news,” Satoru paused, flipping another steak. “How was school and the movies? Kill any curses today?”
“You’d know if you were there,” Megumi said. “Does you taking the day off have anything to do with the big news?”
“Sure does.”
“I’m not sure I wanna know what it is.”
“Sure you do.”
“When are you guys gonna tell us?” Yuji darted his eyes back and forth between you and the man standing over the grill. “I hate waiting for big news!”
“We’re gonna tell you as soon as dinner’s ready,” you replied with the tone of someone cool, calm, and collected, as if this wasn’t something that made your palms sweat. As if.
Suddenly, Megumi felt something tug on his school uniform. He glanced down to see Maya staring up at him.
“Hm?”
“Can you help me with my-with the homework? Pleaseee?” The five-year-old frowned, though it wasn’t necessary. When you or Satoru were busy, or she simply wanted to spend time with her brother, she would always ask him for homework help, and he would always say yes.
“You know I will. Do you want to go inside or stay out here?” Megumi questioned with a soft smile.
“Muffin, you already finished your homework, remember?” Satoru chimed in, and the little girl pouted as a result.
She adored homework. Homework, in her eyes, was extra bonding time with whichever family member she picked. It was true she finished her assignment about numbers with her dad when she came home from school, but right now, she wanted to color with Megumi.
“We can color after dinner, if you want.” Megumi offered — he was smart in that way.
Suddenly, Maya’s pout changed into a bright smile. “Okay!”
“Take her inside,” You spoke up. “You all need to go wash up and set the table. I gotta talk to your dad about something.”
Two teenagers and the little girl offered their share of curious gazes, but they shoved that confusion down, temporarily satisfied with the promise of hearing the Big News! later on, and they made their way back into the house.
Once they were out of sight, you got off the outdoor sofa, put your water and book down on the edge of the unlit fire pit, and walked over to your cooking husband.
“Before you ask, yes, I’m giving you the biggest piece. No, I won’t let you switch with me, and yes, I'm cooking it to the safest temperature.” Satoru grinned, but when he turned his head and noticed your face didn’t share the same grin as his own, he asked, “What’s on your mind, baby? Don’t be nervous.”
“Useless advice,” you mumbled. “Why are we doing this? Making a big, nice dinner to deliver news they might not be too happy about?”
“They will be, I promise. I’m sure they’ll be shocked, but they’re not going to raise hell like you think they will.”
“It’s Maya and Megumi I’m worried about. I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but I just . . .” Your words trailed off into nothing, the sizzling steaks filling the silence, but that was fine. No other words were needed. After all, this was, indeed, a conversation you had a thousand times.
Satoru figured that, maybe, you’d start to accept his words if they were said a thousand and one times.
“Muffin loves people. Remember how happy she was when Megumi and Yuji joined the family? It’ll be no different than that. As for Megumi, we’ll do whatever it takes to show him that adding new members to the family doesn’t mean we’re taking members away.” Satoru held his arm out. “Come here. Come on.”
With a little frown, you wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.
“You have the cutest frown in the world, you know that? I hate when you’re frowning, of course, but it’s so cute.” He kissed you yet again. “You’re just so cute, what the hell.”
“Stop it,” A smile now replaced your frown, and when you put a bit of distance between your body and his, he took advantage of it by pressing his soft lips against your forehead, nose, and cheek.
“Sir, your behavior is the reason I’m pregnant now.”
“Your cuteness is the reason you’re pregnant now.” Another kiss. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up pregnant again after this, just saying.”
“Like hell,” you giggled, and the very lips that released that soft laugh? They were kissed as well.
—♡ —
Megumi and Yuji hovered over the dining room table. The dark-haired boy gently set out the plates in everyone’s desired seat, meanwhile, Yuji laid out the napkins and silverware.
“Hey,” Megumi interrupted the comfortable silence, grabbing a plate from the stack in his hand and setting it down in your spot. “When they mentioned the news they wanted to tell us, did they say it was good news?”
“Huh?” Yuji looked up from where he stood at the other end of the table. “Uhh, I think they only mentioned it being big news. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
What a lie. Yuji wasn’t as observant as Megumi was when it came to certain things. He didn’t know that Maya — who was currently in the bathroom washing her hands — used the term homework to sometimes “trick” her family members into playing with her, for example.
But Yuji knew Megumi quite well. And right now, he could see his pinched brows and downward-pointed lips, as if a cloud of worry was forming over his head.
“So, how’re you feeling lately?” Yuji asked, his eyes on Megumi, though his hands were placing forks and knives on the table. “Ya know, the meds, the therapy, the psychia-”
“Don’t talk about it.”
“Why not? There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m in therapy too, ya know.”
“Your care plan isn’t as intense as mine.”
“Well, is your care plan helping?” Yuji tried yet again. This time, he was the one with the cloud of worry forming over his head.
“I don’t know. I think so,” Megumi shrugged. It wasn’t a lie, either. Some days, he wanted to rewind time and stop his comrades from intervening whenever a curse came close to ending his life. Other days, he smiled as he defeated his entire family in a game of trivia and ate a few handfuls of your homemade trail mix. But most days, he felt like a zombie. As if moods and emotions were beneath him, or rather, out of his reach.
“Is therapy helping you?” Megumi asked.
“Yeah. Feels nice to have someone to talk to without them getting all worried and stuff, ya know? I can see how stressed mom and dad get when I talk about all this vessel mess,” with a smile, Yuji set down the last of the silverware. “Ya know, there are some things only you and I can understand. I probably can’t give you the world’s greatest advice, but if you ever wanna talk to me, you can.”
Yuji started to walk towards the nearest bathroom. Before he was completely out of Megumi’s line of sight, Yuji paused, glanced back with that familiar smile, and said, “Love you!”
—♡ —
Dinner time occurred fifteen minutes later. Your family sat around the table packed to the brim with grilled steak, steamed rice, roasted brussels sprouts and asparagus, and hot miso soup. The tantalizing aroma from the delicious food certainly caught Yuji’s attention, but the anticipation of hearing your big news made him keep his eyes on you rather than the steaming dishes sitting in the center of the table.
It was as if your back leaning against your dining room chair was an activation switch.
“What’s the news?” Yuji was practically bouncing in his seat.
Maya, following her older brother’s lead, said with a giggle, “What’s the news? What’s the news?”
“News? What news?” You gave them a playfully sly smile. Then, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh! Satoru, we forgot the donuts and tea.”
Donuts and tea? Megumi thought.
He watched as you and Satoru left the dining room like sneaky little kids, whispering among yourselves.
Satoru returned moments later with a small tray of donuts.
“Ooo, pink and blue!” Maya’s eyes glistened at the sight of the colorful desserts being placed on the table.
You returned with mugs, sitting them down in front of each family member before retreating yet again, only to return with the hot container of herbal tea — and a lukewarm cup of tea for Maya.
“Here’s some tea to help with digestion,” you said, pouring the soothing beverage into everyone’s mugs.
“No juice, mommy? I love, love, love, love juice.” Maya asked.
“No, no juice this close to your bedtime.”
“Okayyy.”
You sat down once again. Satoru reached for a particularly large steak and put it on your plate, and just like that, the family began passing around the prepared food, portioning out however much they desired.
Fifteen minutes of dining and polite conversation went on. The subjects drifted between the film Megumi and Yuji saw earlier that day — Megumi liked it, Yuji thought it was a little drawn out — vague dreams of a big family vacation within the next year or so; simple chatter.
Maya was the one who interrupted the simple chatter. Her eyes were fixated on the little mug in her hands, or rather, what was written on the front of it.
“Sss . . . suh-is-ter . . . of . . . of . . . fa-or.”
“Whatcha reading? Let me help.” Yuji leaned over, glancing at the mug.
“Sister of four,” he read, then tilted his head a bit in confusion. He looked over across the table at you. “Momma, did you read the mug before you bought it?”
“Hm, I can’t remember,” your voice was sugary-sweet with false innocence. “I wonder if they all say something.”
Those words led to Megumi and Yuji grabbing their mugs. As they read in silence, Satoru sneakily grinned at you, reached over, and squeezed your hand.
“Mine says brother of four,” Yuji said.
“Mine too,” Megumi added, putting his mug down and taking a spoonful of soup.
“Dad, what does your mug say?”
Satoru didn’t answer Yuji’s question. Not with words, at least. Instead, the man raised his mug, taking a slow, suspicious sip.
“Awesome father of five,” the boys read in unison.
“Hers says loving mother of five,” Megumi’s eyes trailed the words along your mug.
For a while, the boys sat in silence . . . thinking, thinking, and thinking . . .
Yuji started to cough, nearly choking on the tea he was sipping on.
“You’re pregnant?!” He exclaimed in between coughs, his face going red, his eyes going wide. “With twins?”
“Wait, seriously?” Megumi leaned forward, his eyebrows almost shooting up into his hairline.
Duh. Of course. Of course!
“Took you boys long enough to piece it together!” You couldn’t help but erupt into laughter, holding Satoru’s hand as he too joined in on your joyous fit.
“Hmm?” Maya blinked.
Satoru rose out of his seat, walked over to where his little girl sat, and kneeled.
“Your mommy and I are giving you a couple more siblings, Muffin,” his long fingers tickled her tummy, and she shrieked, giggling wildly as he spoke. “You ready to be a big sister, sweet girl?”
As it often did, a round of tickling turned into a game of chase. Maya hopped out of her chair, continuously laughing all the while, and Satoru trailed behind the running girl — not using his full speed, of course — and together, they played in the living room.
“The donuts . . . You’re having a boy and a girl?” Megumi asked.
His expression, once the initial shock wore off, was unreadable. He was as blank as a new canvas.
You tried. You tried to place meaning behind the blank stare, the stilled lips, the straightened brows . . . but there was nothing. Nothing.
“A boy and a girl, that’s right,” you said.
Yuji was on his feet. He held his arms out, and you grinned, standing and opening your arms.
“Congratulations! This is huge! How far along are you? Have you come up with any names yet? Can they hear me talking?” The rambling boy hugged you more gently than he normally would. After letting go, he leaned down a bit, pressing his ear against your stomach first. He wasn’t very satisfied with the silence. Suddenly, he shouted, “Hellooo! This is Yuji, your older brother!”
“You’re too much,” You ruffled his pinkish hair, but your smile faded into a more stern look.
“So, boys, how do you feel about this?” You asked, grabbing a seat near the two of them, and Yuji, who knew that stern look meant that it was time to get serious, sat back down in his chair. “I know things tend to get pretty chaotic around here sometimes and, well, having twins won’t make that any easier. I know you both tend to think that your wants and needs come second to everyone else’s just because we adopted you both a little over a year ago, and I know I’ve shown you both how that is completely, one hundred percent untrue. Having twins won’t change that, okay? You two are just as important as these two. And Maya, of course. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am!”
The eager response came from Yuji. Megumi took a tentative sip of his tea.
“Megumi?” You called out, raising your brows.
He gave a small nod, then, that blank, fresh canvas-like face of his met yours.
“Congratulations,” he said.
—♡ —
That next morning, your eyelids fluttered open to the ding of your phone. You reached over as best as you could with your husband clinging to you like a needy koala, and you grabbed your device off your nightstand. Blinking away the last bit of sleepiness was a chore. But, eventually, your vision cleared up enough for you to make out your most recent notification.
Megumi had sent a text message to the family group chat.
Megumi: I’m going for a walk. Be back soon.
A walk? A morning walk?
Your eyes flickered up to the time displayed in the corner of your screen. It was so early, the sun hadn’t yet fully risen.
Before Megumi’s depression kept him bedbound until noon, he was an early bird, often awake before or at the same time as you, making his way around the house unintentionally as quiet as a mouse.
Therefore, you would have been happy to know that he was, once again, rising with the sun. But this? This created a wave of worry that washed over you until you pressed the back of your hand against your forehead.
“Satoru?” You rocked your body against your husband. “Wake up.”
He groaned, pulling you closer, albeit gently, still aware of your delicate condition even amidst his sleep.
“Wake up,” you tried once again.
“Hmm?” With a yawn, Satoru rubbed his eye. The messy strands of his white hair were going every which way.
“Megumi’s going for a walk,” you whispered.
“Good for him. I love exercise.”
“No, not good. This isn’t like him. He’s upset. He’s upset about the twins. I knew it. I told you.”
The sheer, slight panic in your voice knocked out the last bit of sleepiness dancing around within Satoru.
“Want me to rush and try to catch up with him?”
“No,” you mumbled. “If he is upset, a walk is the best thing for him, right?”
Satoru leaned forward, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Do you ever worry about me and the little things I do this much?”
“Nope. You’re easy to read. You have a very expressive face. When your eyebrow twitches, I know you’re hungry. When you frown, I know you want my attention. Plus, you’re just gonna tell me whatever is bothering you immediately. I never have the luxury of worrying about you.” This time, it was your turn to lean forward, and you kissed his forehead as best as you could with his messy white hair acting as a barrier. “I’m gonna wash up and get started on breakfast. I want to surprise Yuji with those soufflé pancakes he likes. Make Megumi some black coffee, fresh juice for Maya too.”
“Your favorite fruit chopper is on his way,” Satoru yawned and rolled over onto his back.
—♡ —
Breakfast was served. A beautiful display of food crowded the breakfast nook in the kitchen, earning a heartfelt, “Wow! This is the kinda breakfast you see in movies!” from Yuji.
While he and Maya were in the kitchen, enjoying their meal, you were straightening out the pillows on one of the living room couches with Satoru.
A figure appeared.
You glanced up and smiled at the sight of Megumi.
“Megumi, you're back! How was your walk?”
“It was fine,” he said.
But there was something more. His eyes . . . they darted away from you.
“What is it, buddy?” Satoru asked him. He noticed his son’s strange, distant gaze as well.
Megumi stepped away.
He then returned with a large box in his arms.
“Here. I got this for you.”
Satoru hovered over you as you reached for the box.
What now rested in your arms was a soft, curved, dark blue, pregnancy pillow.
You wanted to say a lot of things; he didn’t have to spend his money like this. How big of a surprise this was. How much you absolutely adored him.
But all you could do was stand there in shock, letting the hot tears start to brim in your waterline.
“You’re gonna make her cry,” Satoru smiled at the teenager as he soothingly rubbed your back.
“Oh, hush. Leave me alone. I can cry if I want to,” With a sniffle, you said, “thank you, Megumi!”
“You’re welcome. You’re a great mom. And you’re a great dad.”
“Stop, now I’m gonna cry,” Satoru turned his head, but he couldn’t fight off the grin upon his face, nor did he want to.
“Can we hug you?” You asked Megumi.
“Sure.”
After setting the box down, you and Satoru wrapped your arms around him. You released a heavy sigh, feeling the burden of worry finally ease off your shoulders.
—♡ —
THE BABY SHOWER
The friends and family of you and Satoru were hardly surprised by the . . . odd traditions and ideas Satoru implemented into his life after traveling to various continents as a hard-working sorcerer.
That was why walking into a baby shower venue, one that looked more like a modern museum, was a shock to no one.
Only the best for Mrs. Gojo.
It was a little ways into the evening, sometime after everyone had been fed, marveled over how Maya was getting taller, and before presents were to be presented to you, and Satoru was chatting with Utahime when he felt someone tap his arm. He turned around, grinning, as he faced Maki and Yuta.
“Congratulations,” Maki said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, congrats! We’re happy for you,” Yuta smiled as well, his smile noticeably brighter.
“Hey, thanks, you two, and thanks for coming.” Satoru’s large hand landed on Yuta’s head, and he ruffled his hair.
“Free food,” Maki shrugged, but in truth, she adored you — everyone did.
“Have as much as you want. My future unpaid babysitters should enjoy the baby shower, right?”
Satoru walked off then with a sly grin, shoes clanking against the floor as he ignored Maki’s shouts of protest.
Kento Nanami was standing near the colorful arrangement of balloons nearest the buffet. The well-dressed man was replenishing his cup of lemonade, and as Satoru strolled over, he could hear his loud son, Yuji, chatting with his relatives; both real ones, and those who were simply friends of the family, but were close enough to earn the honorable title of aunt, uncle, or cousin.
“Kento! It’s been a while!” Satoru slung his arm over the unsuspecting man’s shoulder, but that composed man didn’t jump, flinch, or appear startled in any way.
He only adjusted his glasses and said, “Indeed it has. Congratulations, Satoru. I’m happy for you.”
“Hey, congrats to you as well, you’re getting another niece and nephew.”
“Uncle Kento, huh? What an honor.”
“One Muffin bestowed upon you and the rest of my friends. She’s always running around asking for Uncle Kento, Aunt Shoko, and the like.” Satoru removed his arm from around Kento’s shoulder. “You’d make an amazing father, you know that, right?”
“Babysitting your kids has been and will be enough for me,” Kento took a sip of his lemonade. “Besides, I don’t know if I could bring kids into . . . Sorry. I didn’t mean to judge you.”
Much like how Kento’s composure didn’t falter when Satoru surprised him, Satoru’s pleasant grin didn’t twitch.
“No, no, it’s alright. You’re not wrong, either. I always thought it was selfish to bring kids into a world filled with curses and curse users, but,” Satoru’s hand was on Kento’s shoulder, and he turned the man around until they were both facing the swarm of chatting guests, and Satoru pointed to you, the one person among the crowd who glistened brighter than the lights, stars and moon themed decorations within the baby shower venue. “Seeing that amazing, beautiful woman over there carry my child, and holding that child for the very first time . . . It’s turned me into a selfish man.”
Kento turned back around to face Satoru. A whisper of a grin appeared on his face.
“One could argue that you’re doing the world a favor. Your children will undoubtedly grow up to become the strongest sorcerers. They could save many lives someday,” Kento said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. If they wanna fight curses, I won’t stop them. But if they wanna make music, flip burgers, sell houses, or whatever, then that’s fine with me.”
“You’re hoping for the latter.”
“Of course I am.” Only then did Satoru’s smile start to fade. “The last thing I want is for my muffin to experience the things Yuji and Megumi have. I can barely keep it together when she cries. How am I supposed to handle her coming home someday, scraped up or worse?”
“You speak as if you won’t be right by her side.”
“I can’t always be there. I told you about the time the school took advantage of my absence and sent Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara off on a mission they weren’t ready for, right? The one at the detention center? And that curse turned out to be a special grade?”
Kento glanced up at the ceiling covered in glistening starlike lights for a brief moment, thinking. Then, his eyes locked with Satoru’s. “Right, I remember. Nobara and Megumi got hurt, and Yuji, well, died.”
Satoru nodded. “They were just my students back then, but even then, I was ready to kill all the higher-ups. I can’t imagine the person I’ll become if something else like that happened to any of my kids. I mean, you’re telling me my sweet girl’s next? In a decade, Muffin will be going to Jujutsu High?”
This time, it was Kento’s turn to place his arm around Satoru.
What an odd act, coming from him. Satoru was certain Kento would only ever initiate physical touch when he was in his casket, and Kento would lightly tap his hand or shoulder as a way of saying goodbye.
For Kento’s arm to rest around Satoru’s shoulder now? Well, the other man’s face must have shown a great deal of borrowed grief from the future.
“You’re not the kind of person to start stressing out about things that have yet to happen,” The blonde-haired man’s voice was soothing. Like a comforting hug. “And you shouldn’t stress out about it tonight. I’ll . . . finally let you come to my house and vent about it all later this week if you aren’t busy. Just promise me you won’t let it get to you right now. You’re supposed to be having fun.”
And, like it often did, that familiar, Satoru Gojo Grin reappeared on his face. “Kento, Kento, remember who you’re talking to. I know how to be stressed out and have fun. Keeps things exciting, ya know?”
“I don’t.”
At the front of the museum-like venue, there was a stage. It was home to the giant crescent moon decoration that brought tears to your eyes — you blamed the pregnancy hormones, but in truth, it was just that gorgeous — and right now, that stage was home to Satoru as he stood on it, microphone in hand.
The chatter and music died down, and your husband started to speak.
“Hey everyone, thanks for coming to our baby shower. It means the world to me, my wife, and our kids. We’re about to start opening gifts, but first, there’s something I wanna show everyone. Most of you might remember this video from our wedding, or from my little muffin’s baby shower, but there are some new faces here. And the old faces are just gonna have to put up with it again, ‘cause this woman right here,” Satoru hopped off the stage. A spotlight followed him as he approached you, leaned down, and gazed at you with a passion so obvious, the hearts of your guests melted at the sight of love they witnessed. “I’m madly in love with her, I’d die for her, and I’m lucky enough to be the man she decided to marry and have kids with. I’m grateful. This video means the world to us, because if it weren’t for the events that happened on this day, there’s a chance none of us would be celebrating the arrival of two new family members right now. So, watch it, or else none of you are coming to Yuji’s future wedding.”
Gentle laughter broke out among the guests. Just above the stage, a projector screen came to life. The old video started with Satoru resting his head on his school desk.
Upon seeing the italicized date in the corner, Shoko, who then locked eyes with Satoru, gave him a soft, knowing smile.
—♡ —
JUJUTSU HIGH SCHOOL — 2006
“Why’re you recording me? Can’t you see I’m crying? You think this is funny?”
The second-year student glanced up at the camera in front of his tear-soaked face. His blacked-out sunglasses had fallen off his desk and tumbled to the floor, and his teary, blue eyes darted between his two best friends.
“You’re the one who talked up a big game. Now hurry before you miss your shot.” Suguru said from behind the camera. He was the one recording Satoru’s all-too-rare meltdown, and he zoomed in on the special-grade sorcerer’s face.
“Shoko, can’t you ask her for me? Pleaseee?” Satoru, who sat backwards in his chair, ran his fingers through his messy white hair.
Suguru turned his camera towards Shoko. The teenage girl rolled her eyes.
“Kinda pathetic to get someone else to ask. If I were her, I’d say no because you didn’t have the courage to ask me directly,” she said.
“Oh my god,” Satoru hid his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die, I swear I am.”
Suguru’s camera picked up the sight of you at the front of the classroom, quietly sitting at your desk, jotting down the last few bullet points written by your teacher on the green chalkboard.
Then, Satoru’s flushed, wet face came into view once again.
“Are you seriously crying?” Shoko asked, stifling a giggle.
“Leave me alone, I’m nervous, okay? I swear I’m gonna throw up. Do you see how pretty she is? And she’s so strong, too. Her smile is-is just . . .” dramatically, Satoru sprawled out across the desk in front of him, sniffling. “Guys, what if she says no?”
“What if she says yes?” Suguru said. “Clocks ticking, Satoru. Karaoke night is tonight and school’s about to let out. If you don’t ask her now, you won’t get another shot.”
“Can’t we reschedule?”
“Why? So you can panic and cry again later?”
Satoru whined, raised his head again for a moment, then rested the side of his head on Suguru’s desk — tried to, at least. In truth, he just ended up smacking his head.
Shoko suddenly came into view, her short brown hair dangling. She leaned close to the camera, and whispered, “What’s really pathetic is that he killed special-grade curses yesterday all while talking on the phone, and now he’s crying because he can’t ask a girl out on a date. Weird.”
“I can hear you,” Satoru mumbled. “You guys don’t get it. Every time I talk to her, all I do is stutter and embarrass myself, almost like I’m not as awesome and amazing as I think I am. What’s up with that?”
“It’s called having a crush,” the amusement in Suguru’s voice was clear.
It made Satoru whine yet again — he was suffering. His friends found it funny, but he was suffering. Suffering!
“Yep. You are downright smitten. Poor thing,” Shoko chuckled.
Suddenly, the school bell rang.
Satoru’s head shot straight up like a dog hearing a whistle, and his blue eyes widened in pure panic.
“Shit, shit, shit, is she leaving? I’m scared to look,” Satoru said, but he turned around and looked anyway.
“I’ll stall her.” Shoko rose from her seat, speed walking to the front of the classroom where you started to gather your belongings.
Bits and pieces of the distant conversation could be heard, and well, Shoko was quite an actress.
There was a gentle thud as Suguru set the camera in his hand down on the desk.
His body then came into view from the waist down as he pulled his nervous friend out of his seat.
“Wipe your tears,” Suguru mumbled, and straightened out Satoru’s uniform. “You can do this. You’re Satoru Gojo, aren’t you?”
“Right . . . right. I got this,” trying to make his messy hair appear neater by running his fingers through it, Satoru released a shaky breath.
Then, he approached you.
Suguru grabbed his camera, moved up a few seats, and sat down. Shoko ended the improvised conversation with you and grabbed the seat of the empty desk beside Suguru.
Suguru zoomed in on the scene that unfolded before him.
“Excuse me,” Satoru tapped your shoulder. You faced him, and he mumbled, “ . . . Hi.”
“Hi,” you smiled.
“Hi . . .” Satoru repeated. His eyes fell to the floor, and he scratched the side of his head with his trembling hand. “So, uh, do you like music?”
“Yeah, I do, why?”
“No reason. Well, there is a reason, but it’s not important or anything.”
“He’s blowing it,” Shoko whispered to the camera. Suguru shushed her as if his dear friend was talking during the best scene of a film.
“I take that back, it’s actually pretty important,” Satoru cleared his throat. God, he could barely look you in the eye. “Asking you out is a big deal to me, ya know? I’ve been practicing for weeks. I can’t believe I just said it wasn’t important. I can, uh, tell that I’m about to do this thing that, for some reason, only happens around you, where I get nervous and start talking a lot, so um, I-I was just wondering if you’d . . . like to go to this group date night karaoke thing . . . tonight? With me? As my date? O-On a date?”
Everyone held their breath. Even the green leaves among the trees visible outside the classroom windows did not blow in the wind.
It was as if the world stopped spinning, and its rotation only began yet again when you laughed softly, your smile brightened, and you said, “You’re adorable. I’d love to.”
“Wait . . . wait, really?” Satoru’s eyes went wide with shock.
The video captured a quiet, joyous shriek from Shoko.
“Yeah, it sounds fun!” You said, closing the binder on your desk.
“O-Oh, great! Um, wait here,” Satoru sped away from you, nearly tripping over his own feet. Again.
His body blocked the camera lens, but he could be heard saying in a rushed, quiet tone, “pen and paper, pen and paper, hurry!”
Suguru put down the camera. He and Shoko scrambled around like disoriented ants, but after a couple of seconds, Suguru handed Satoru a piece of paper, and Shoko gave him a pen. “Here!”
Satoru leaned over a desk and started to write down his number. Suguru grabbed his camera and zoomed in on his trembling hands.
“Your hands are shaking,” Shoko mumbled.
“Not now, Shoko. Please shut up,” Satoru said, writing the last digit, and ripping off a piece of the paper.
Satoru made his way back over to you, his smile bright, cheeks and ears red.
“Here’s my number!” He handed you the tiny piece of paper.
“Okay, cool. I’ll text you when I get home.” You gave him one last smile as you gathered the rest of your belongings. You started to make your way out the door, when suddenly, you paused, turned to face him, and said, “Bye, ‘Toru!”
That was it.
That was it.
The sorcerer was on the floor.
Suguru and Shoko were on their feet, rushing towards their collapsed friend.
The teenager on the floor came into view, and, once again, tears were streaming down his face, spilling onto the classroom floor beneath him.
“Cut the camera, I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna die. Did you hear that? Did you hear her call me ‘Toru?” Satoru tossed his arm over his eyes. “I can’t believe it. She said . . . she said yes. I’m not hallucinating, am I?”
Before either one of his friends could answer, he suddenly got off the floor.
“Holy shit,” Satoru whispered. “I gotta go get ready!”
And with that, the man flew out of the classroom. Shoko and Suguru were quiet for a moment, hearing his quick footsteps down the hall, and then, at the same time, they erupted into heartfelt laughter.
“I’ve never seen him act like this before. Is that why you started recording?” Shoko said once the last of her giggles fluttered out of her.
“Yes. I have a good feeling about those two.”
“Wait, wait, Suguru, come look!”
Shoko made her way towards the window, and Suguru — and his camera — quickly followed.
There, they saw Satoru running out of the school.
“See that, future viewers?” Suguru said to the camera. “That’s Satoru running. My best guess is that he’s planning on stopping at any store that catches his eye for a new outfit, new cologne . . . the list goes on and on.”
Suguru then turned the camera around, his face on full display.
“If they don’t work out, I won’t share this video, but as I said, I have a good feeling. I’m thinking I’ll share this video when they go on their . . . fifth date. What do you think?” He looked at Shoko. The girl appeared behind him, joining him on the screen.
“I say whenever they become boyfriend and girlfriend. What if they fall in love and get married? They could show this video at their wedding.” Suddenly, Shoko’s eyes lit up. “Wait, I have an idea.”
She took the camera from Suguru.
With a small wave and a smile, she started to speak to the camera — to the future viewers. “Hi there, if you’re watching this video, that means my friend, Suguru, and I, successfully predicted the future, and Mrs. Gojo is watching this. Congratulations.”
“Wait, what if they decide to show this to their children?”
“Oh, you’re right!” Shoko raised her eyebrows at Suguru’s interjection, then gave the camera another wave. “Hi, kids. I’m your Aunt Shoko!”
“I’m Uncle Suguru,” the dark-haired teenager popped his head into the frame, waving as well.
“I predict that . . . Satoru will become a girl dad.” Shoko knocked her head against Suguru’s shoulder. “Your turn.”
“Well, I see the two of them having multiple children.” Suguru said, and with a soft smile, he added, “But to Satoru’s future children, and to the future Mrs. Gojo, we wish you the best. I hope your days are filled with love and happiness. It’s the best thing one can ask for.”
Together, the two teenagers waved at the camera. “Bye!”
—♡ —
THE BIRTH
Over the last several months, Satoru Gojo’s only mission was to kiss your round belly with every sunrise and sunset. He didn’t travel the world for special assignments only he could handle, he didn’t spend hours cooped up in the stuffy classrooms of Jujutsu High School, teaching young sorcerers the difference between cursed energy and cursed technique.
Once you hit the nine month mark, once you were predicted to go into labor any day now, he walked into the creepy meeting room belonging to the higher ups, told them he was taking some months off to be by your side, and strolled out of there with a relaxed grin on his face, hands in his pockets, all while the old fools huffed and puffed, going on and on about how he couldn’t do such a thing — blah, blah, blah.
Satoru didn’t care.
He only cared about his family.
Damn it all, the world itself could catch on fire and he could be the only human being with an earth-sized extinguisher, and he wouldn’t do a thing. Not if it meant leaving your side right now.
It was early in the morning when the orange, gentle sunlight peeked through the curtains of your big bedroom window, and Satoru raised your night gown and pressed two soft kisses against your belly, one for each of the children you carried in your womb; the boy-girl twins.
“Good morning princess,” Satoru ran his hand gently across one side of your belly, where he knew his baby girl was located. “Daddy can’t wait to meet you soon.”
Satoru felt a small kick against his palm. He grinned.
“Aren’t you precious? I’m glad you’re excited to meet me too.”
His hand graced your skin as he moved it to where his boy was resting.
“How’s my little prince doing this morning, hm? You’re gonna love your nursery. Your Uncle Kento and I worked hard on it.”
His boy didn’t give an energetic kick, but rather a tiny wriggle. Satoru had read online once when you were pregnant with your first child five years ago that how a baby acts in the womb is not always an indication of how they’ll act outside of it, but for some reason — call it fatherly instinct, a lucky guess, or what information he could gather with his Six Eyes based on their cursed energy fluctuations — Satoru believed he was dealing with a hyper, excitable girl, while his boy was on the quieter side.
Your eyes fluttered open.
“Good morning,” Satoru grinned up at you, moving away to give you some space. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Huge. I know I say it every day, but my back is-is . . . god, it’s killing me. I’m so ready for these little ones to come out.” You suddenly swung your legs off the side of the bed, moving much faster than your husband was comfortable with.
“Easy, easy,” he said. “What can your awesome, loving husband cook you for breakfast today?”
“Guess.”
“Crepes?”
You smiled at him. “You really are an awesome, loving husband.”
—♡ —
The soft clink-clank of dishes being washed with soap and hot, running water filled the kitchen. As you grabbed the drying rag to finish off with cleaning the plate that held your crepes, Maya, who too finished her breakfast, approached you with a curious, childlike gaze.
“When will the twins come out, mommy?”
“Any day now. Are you excited?”
“Uh-huh! I get a . . . a new sister and a new brother!”
“That’s right. It’s gonna be a full house.”
Megumi had awakened a while ago. He walked into the kitchen with an empty mug in hand, as he had finished his morning cup of black coffee.
“Do you want my breakfast?” He asked you.
“Of course not. There’s plenty for everyone, and you know you need to eat something with your meds. I don’t want you to get a stomach ache,” you said, moving out of the way so he could make his way to the sink — his favorite mug was much too precious to go in the dishwasher.
“You need the extra food more than I do. Besides, I don’t have a sweet tooth.”
“We know. Your dad cooked you something else. Your breakfast is in that pot on the stove.”
Megumi didn’t respond. But, he truly didn’t get the chance to, as Yuji appeared in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you.
“Momma!” He greeted excitedly. Talk about being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
“Good morning, Yuji. How in the world do you wake up with so much energy?”
Yuji pulled away from the gentle hug. “Hmm, well, you could go into labor any day now, so I’ve been pretty excited lately. But I’m always excited about, well, everything.” He continued, “Feel alright today?”
“Mhm,” you nodded, and Maya suddenly grabbed your hand, wanting to hold it. You smiled, stroking her soft skin with your fingers. Then, you refocused your attention on Megumi, who was washing his mug, and Yuji, who was opening the fridge. “So, boys, your ride will be here soon to pick you up and drop you off at school. I’m going with your dad when he takes Maya to school so we can buy the last of what we need before I give birth, and I need-”
You heard footsteps. They didn’t belong to Satoru — you knew what his footsteps sounded like. You whipped your head around, and in the archway of your kitchen stood Kento.
“Kento? When’d you get here?” You asked in pure surprise.
“Uncle Kento!” Maya exclaimed, running up to Kento and holding her arms out for a hug.
“Look at you, Maya. You’re getting taller every day.” The man kneeled, hugging the young girl. Afterwards, he looked your way. “Good morning, I just got here. Satoru called and said you need someone to sort through and put away some supplies. I thought you knew, or else I would have knocked. Sorry for startling you.”
“It’s fine. I gave you a house key for a reason,” you smiled. “But I can’t ask that of you, Kento. It’s my fault I’m so behind with preparations.”
“Well, I’m not letting you tell me no. You have three kids and two more on the way, and to say you have a busy family is an understatement. No one blames you for falling behind. There's going to be a full house here soon enough, and there’s nothing wrong with your family needing a little outside help.”
“That’s what mommy just said! Full house!”
Maya spread her hands wide.
“And your mom is right,” Kento said. “Anyway, your children call me Uncle Kento for a reason, don’t they? Even this one right here,” Kento nodded towards Yuji, who gave him a smile in return. “I need to show I’m worthy of that title.”
“Well, fine. But sit down and have some breakfast, at least. And I’m not letting you tell me no.”
Kento knew better than to go back and forth with you, Mrs. Gojo, when it came to your policy: everyone who walks through your front door will be fed.
Satoru appeared in the kitchen next. He dangled his car keys at you and smiled down at Maya. “Alright, you two. Time to go.”
—♡ —
On ordinary days, you and Maya would stroll down the sunlit streets as a means of transportation, as her school was close enough for you to walk with the young girl, hand-in-hand.
While Satoru would have gladly walked Maya to school, the two of you had last-minute errands to run, and that led to him pulling his car into the parking lot of the white and brown building instead.
“I’ll walk her in. You can clean off the black mark on the back window. It’s driving me crazy,” you said.
You unbuckled your seatbelt. Satoru exchanged loving goodbyes and a couple of tickles with Maya and grabbed the car cleaner and rag he kept in his truck. You strolled across the parking lot and up to the front door of the building with your girl by your side, and she played with the straps of her backpack.
That was when a strange, suited man standing outside the see-through front doors spoke to you.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning. Excuse us,” you replied. You gave him a stranger-friendly smile and went to grab the door handle, but he didn’t move.
“Wait a second, Mrs. Gojo,” the man was fast. His hand gripped your elbow. He pulled you a little ways back to halt your footsteps. Instinctively, you grabbed Maya’s hand. She frowned with great worry, pressing herself as close to you as she could get.
The man’s grip tightened. “You are Mrs. Gojo, correct? And this is your little girl, Maya?”
“What are you doing? Don’t touch me-”
Another hand appeared, this one familiar. It wrapped around the strange man’s wrist, squeezing, squeezing, and squeezing, until he let go of your elbow.
“Hey, back the hell away from my wife and my kid.”
A shaky breath of pure relief escaped from you at the sight of your husband. Without wasting another second, you took your daughter inside the school and walked her to her class.
Meanwhile, Satoru’s grip on the strange man’s wrist only tightened.
“Who the hell are you?” Satoru released his wrist, but only to take haunting steps towards the man, forcing him to walk backwards, stumbling over his own feet as his frightened eyes stared up at the tall, pissed-off sorcerer approaching him.
“Please, I didn’t mean any harm, but-”
“But, you’re a strange man standing outside of my daughter’s school, one who knows my wife and daughter’s name. One who noticed they were alone. One who grabbed my wife’s arm.” He kept walking towards him. The man kept trying to back away. Satoru continued, the dark tone of his voice growing. “I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me who you are. One last chance . . .”
Satoru hooked his index finger around his black blindfold. He pulled it down slowly. He revealed his frightening, wide, blue eyes.
“I’m just a recruiter! Please, I didn’t mean any harm. I-I work with a group of intelligent sorcerers who oppose the teachings of the Jujutsu High School. Therefore, we’re trying to build up our own institution, a-and we would love to have your daughter as one of our students. Perhaps your wife would be interested in becoming a teacher, or-”
“My little girl is five years old,” Satoru spoke through gritted teeth.
“We understand, but being that she’s a member of the Gojo clan, she-”
“Don’t you ever show up here again. Don’t touch my wife, don’t speak to my wife, don’t look at my wife. Don’t touch my daughter, don’t speak to my daughter, don’t look at my daughter, or anyone else in my goddamn family, or I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand me?”
The strange man gulped. Droplets of sweat poured off his pale skin, almost as if he had been walking in the rain.
“Y-yes,” the man squeaked out. “My apologies, sir.”
He ran off like the devil himself was chasing him. Satoru stood in front of the school doors, waiting until the strange man was out of sight before he went into the building.
The entire situation had pissed him off. Greatly. So much so that he had to hold you and Maya close for a couple of minutes.
This wasn’t the first time the Jujutsu Society tried to push you back into the lifestyle of a sorcerer, or get their hands on his daughter.
Satoru himself was separated from his parents at a young age, training relentlessly every single day instead of playing in the warm sun. He would not let the same thing happen to his little girl.
Ever.
—♡ —
“Excuse me. I don’t mean to alarm you, but there is a man who has been staring at you for some time now. He’s two aisles over. I can stay with you while you shop if you’d like me to.”
“Oh, you’re too kind! There’s nothing to worry about, though. That’s just my husband, but thank you.”
“Oh, no problem!”
The kindhearted woman who noticed Satoru’s eyes — as he took his blindfold off for a few minutes — following your every movement walked off with a little smile. You gripped the handle of your grocery cart and hurriedly rushed over to Satoru’s aisle.
“Satoru! You’re supposed to be grabbing baby powder, not stalking me. That lady thought you were a creep!”
“What? I can’t help it. First of all, what happened this morning taught me that I need to be more protective of you, and second of all, you had that look on your face, the one you make when you’re concentrating? It’s too cute, so I gotta stare, sorry.”
Satoru tossed two containers of baby powder into your crowded cart. Sneakily, he pressed a kiss against your cheek. You rolled your eyes and started to walk off with the cart, but he could see the smile tugging at your lips.
The shelves of the pasta aisle were quite packed with a variety of different shapes.
Turning towards Satoru, you said with a playful frown, “Make yourself useful and grab those noodles on the top shelf for me.”
“I love it when you’re bossy,” he smirked, reaching for the big beige box.
“I love it when you’re quiet.”
“Ouch,” he pressed his hand against his heart as if your words were a loaded gun and a bullet was fired into his chest. “I’ll shut up in about five minutes.”
“You still have more to say?”
“Yep. So, I was thinking we could stay out all day until it’s time to pick up Maya from school. The twins will be here before we know it, and who knows when we’ll get to enjoy a nice outing together once they’re born?” Satoru paused. “After we drop off these groceries, we could get some lunch, do a little sightseeing, all that kinda stuff.”
“Sure! Let’s hurry, then!”
—♡ —
Yuji and Megumi stepped through the front doors of their home. The smell of clean laundry and freshly mopped floors hit their noses, and the sight of a spotless, glistening foyer caught their attention.
“Whoa, did Uncle Kento really clean this place up? And I thought it was pretty clean before!”
“Why do you call him that? You know he’s not your uncle,” Megumi said, reaching down to remove his shoes, and Yuji did the same.
“Some families do that kinda stuff. The kids call the friends of their parents aunt and uncle. Uncle Kento, Aunt Shoko, Aunt Jane, and so on and so on. Mom calls Nobara her niece. I think it’s just something you do when you’re close to people, so close you might as well be related, ya know? I love it. It makes me feel like I have this really, really big family.”
“But in reality, when it comes to blood, we’re all alone.”
Yuji froze.
He was used to Megumi’s rather depressing tone, but what made Yuji halt his movements amidst removing his left shoe was the wave of hurt that washed over him. I’m not all alone, Yuji thought. We’re not all alone. We have a mom, dad, siblings, distant relatives . . . right? It counts, right?
Yuji was silent for a moment, but, in a quiet voice, he mumbled, “. . . I think I understand now . . . you think family can only mean blood or marriage, huh?”
Megumi swallowed down the lump of guilt starting to form in his throat. Yuji hardly ever spoke in such a quiet tone. Only then did Megumi realize he had hurt the other boy’s feelings.
“No. In fact, the only people I’ve ever felt a familial bond with were people who weren’t related to me by blood.”
Both Megumi and Yuji rose to their feet, shoes off.
“I don’t get it. What’s the problem, then?” Yuji asked with a great, big frown.
“Be honest with me, Yuji,” Megumi’s eyes focused on the vase of flowers sitting on the table in the center of the foyer. “Do you honestly see me as your brother?”
“Yeah, I do. I mean, I kinda did before we were adopted, ya know? But I take it you don’t see me that way.” As Yuji spoke, Megumi faced him. Yuji gave him a sad smile, trying to hide his hurt. “It’s fine. Maybe someday, right?”
The pink-haired boy started to walk off, but Megumi’s sudden words made him stop.
“You’ve got it all wrong. You guys are my family. That’s the problem.”
“How’s that a problem?” Yuji turned to face him, his eyes begging for answers. “You can talk to me, c’mon. I’m worried about you.”
The words that Yuji spoke to him several months ago replayed in Megumi’s mind: “I probably can’t give you the world’s greatest advice, but if you ever wanna talk to me, you can. Love you!”
“Blood or no blood,” Megumi started. “There’s just something that keeps people from staying in my life. Something always goes wrong. People leave, people die . . . and I can’t shake the feeling that the bonds I’ve formed with all of you will just cause me more pain someday, ‘cause these sorta bonds always end up hurting me in the end. It’ll turn out how it always turns out. I’ll somehow end up all alone.”
Kento appeared in the foyer then.
“That’s the risk that comes with loving people. Especially with the kind of lives we live as sorcerers,” he looked at Megumi apologetically. “Sorry to intrude.”
“It’s fine.”
“Megumi,” Kento continued. “I can’t promise you that you won’t lose anyone else. That’s the cruel world we live in. But, I suggest you cherish the happy moments with the people you care for. There’s nothing worse than losing someone and having no memories to look back on with them, all because you shut them out, thinking it would make the inevitable easier. It only makes it worse. Trust me.”
A brief beat of silence followed Kento’s wise words. While Megumi puzzled over his words, repeating them in his head, Yuji approached the blonde-haired man and wrapped his arms around him.
“Yuji, why are you hugging me?”
“I’m creating a happy moment with my uncle.”
Kento couldn’t help but smile. He hugged the boy he wholeheartedly now viewed as his nephew.
—♡ —
After a day of errands and relaxing fun, you and Satoru pulled into the driveway of your home. Outside, Megumi and Yuji were carrying empty boxes from the finished nursery to the recycling bin after eating snacks Kento prepared for them.
Upon seeing you, Satoru, and Maya emerge from the car, Yuji tossed his empty hand up. “Hey!”
Megumi waved silently.
“Hi, boys!” You waved back.
Just as you were putting your hand down, a wave of pain — a cramp-like pressure — shot through you. You hissed.
“You alright?” Satoru asked, shutting the car door after Maya climbed out of her seat.
“Yeah, just a small cramp. One of the little ones, probably.”
The three of you made your way into your home, all the while, Maya was rambling about her newest fixation after seeing the stars and moon decorations at your baby shower.
“ . . . and when the rockets go into-into space, the um, the people in the rockets see the planets too!”
“Yep, they sure can,” Satoru smiled down at her. “Do you know how many planets there are?”
“Nuh uh,”
“There are eight. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.”
“He’s wrong, Maya. There are nine. I won’t stand for any Pluto erasure, I don’t care what anyone says,” you called out, making your way into the living room. The living room was cleaner than you had left it. “Did we hire a maid?”
“No, I work for free, apparently,” Kento’s voice came from the hallway. When he stepped into the living room, you were quick to hug him. He knew quite well you would try to pay him, but he knew quite well he would also refuse to accept it.
“You did all this, Kento? Oh, thank you!”
Once you released him, Satoru took the chance to hug him as well.
“My turn, bring it in, bring it in,” Satoru grinned.
“The Gojo family likes to give out hugs, hm?” Kento said, and he was met with soft laughter.
Satoru noticed your eyebrows were pinched in discomfort.
“Come on, baby. You should sit down,” Satoru said, and he started to guide you towards one of the couches.
“Can someone bring me some water?” You asked.
“I’m on it. Do you need anything else? You look like you’re-”
“Oh!” Your sudden gasp of pure pain interrupted Kento. You doubled over, your hand on your stomach. “Oh god!”
“Baby? I need you to talk to me,” Satoru leaned over with you, his hand on your back. “What are you feeling?”
Your two boys rushed into the living room then.
Yuji started to say, “What’s wrong? Is she-”
You gave another shout of pain.
“Oh my god, she’s dying,” Yuji gripped his hair in pure panic.
“Yuji!” Megumi and Kento sharply called out.
“What’s wrong with mommy?” Maya, who tried to approach you until Yuji made her stop, gave a worried, little whine.
“They’re contractions,” Satoru said, his large hand rubbing your back.
“Satoru,” you cried. When he looked at you, he saw it. Not the look of nervous excitement amidst the pain as the labor you had been preparing for finally started to occur, but he saw pure fear. “Satoru, they hurt more than they did with-with-”
Another shout of pain.
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay, I’m right here,” Satoru worked hard to keep his composure. He had to. He was someone who felt the urge to faint or cry when his poor wife had a cold, but right now, he needed to be strong for you. And, damn it all, he would be. “Megumi, get Maya. Yuji, grab the hospital bag. Then get in the SUV. I didn’t buy a seven-seater for nothing.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, she’s going into labor,” Yuji said, running off in search of the bag. He had been rehearsing this moment. It was not going as smoothly as it was during his practices.
“I’ll drive,” Kento offered.
“Is-Is-Is this normal? Is it . . . is it supposed to hurt more with twins?” Your questions fluttered from between your lips in between pained groans. Your panicked eyes sought out Satoru’s, but they were hidden behind his blindfold. He knew what you wanted. What you needed. He was quick to snatch the blindfold off, headaches be damned.
“I’m gonna carry you to the SUV, okay, sweetheart? Just hang in there. Everything will be alright. I’m right here.”
The car ride was filled with your groans and shouts of pain.
“We’re almost there, baby. You’re doing so well,” Satoru stroked his thumb across your cheek with the hand that wasn’t within your grasp.
“I’m squeezing your hand, I’m sorry,” you said, breathless.
“Don’t be, I want you to squeeze it. Look at me.” Satoru lifted your chin with his fingers. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m not letting go of your hand, okay? I’m not letting go.”
—♡ —
The blinding white lights of the hospital only worsened your disoriented state. The nurses were scrambling, you were guided into a wheelchair, the painful contractions were intensifying, your family stared at you with concerned gazes — it was too much. Too much.
The doctor told you that your labor was progressing quite fast.
Throughout the intense delivery of the twins, the only thing that kept you grounded in reality, even as droplets of sweat accumulated across your forehead, screams of agony left your throat, and the doctor and nurses encouraged you to push, was your husband.
Satoru had positioned himself behind you in the hospital bed. You were in between his legs, your back against his chest — thank god, as his familiar scent and the sound of his heartbeat soothed you just as much as his calming words did — and you squeezed his hand until his pale skin was now a shade of red, but he didn’t complain. Not once.
“Give me another big push,” the doctor said with urgency, yet, in a calm, reassuring tone.
Another round of screams. Another round of pain. More sweat. Bright white lights.
But, as the back of your head hit Satoru’s chest out of pure exhaustion, you heard it.
A sound that created a wave of nostalgia, one that washed over you as you recalled your first experience with this, five years ago.
It was a cry.
“It’s a girl!” The masked doctor exclaimed.
“Baby . . . baby, it’s our princess,” Satoru brought your hand to his lips. He kissed your knuckles. “It’s our little girl! You’re so goddamn amazing, god, I love you, I love you. Do you see what you just did? That was all you, sweetheart.”
“Let’s work on getting the boy out of here, Mrs. Gojo. You’re doing great.”
It hurt — damn it, it fucking hurt.
“‘Toru!” You cried. Another round of screams. Another round of pain. More sweat. Bright white lights.
“I know, I know. I can’t even imagine, baby.” Satoru stroked the skin of your hand with his thumb. “Keep breathing. Keep squeezing my hand. I’m here for you.”
And with that, you pushed out the very last child, your baby boy. His soft cries filled the hospital room.
—♡ —
Satoru’s baby girl was so, so tiny. She rested in his arms. A tear drop softly splattered against her forehead, and only then did Satoru realize he had started to cry. But he didn’t bother wiping away the tears streaming down his face. It was pointless. Darting his teary blue eyes between the faces of his son and daughter melted his heart, seeing the features they copied from him and the love of his life created those tears, and they would stream endlessly right now.
“Hi, princess,” Satoru whispered to the small newborn, smiling as more tears fell. “It’s your daddy. We’re finally meeting, aren’t we? Wanna say hi to your mommy?”
The hospital room was dimly lit now, thank goodness. Your babies had been cleaned, wrapped in blankets, and at the moment, you were breastfeeding your son when Satoru walked over carefully.
“Did you see her eyes? She has my eyes,” you gave Satoru a tired smile. “I can’t believe it. The shape . . . everything.”
Satoru sat on the side of the hospital bed.
“She looks just like you. Every detail.” He paused, leaning over a bit to lovingly gaze down at his son. “Look at our prince’s tiny white hairs. He has my nose too. Don’t you, little guy? You’re just the cutest little prince, aren’t you?”
Then, Satoru’s loving gaze met your eyes. He leaned in — careful not to squish the two newborns in between your bodies — and he kissed you.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, then gave you another quick kiss in between his words. “Are you ready for me to help you get cleaned up?”
“Yeah, that would be nice. I think I feel strong enough.”
—♡ —
“You’re okay!”
Your worried family members piled through the door of your hospital room, rushing to your side. Yuji was the first one to shout, followed by Megumi’s soft, but concerned tone.
“How do you feel?”
“Happy,” you reached out, squeezing both of their hands. “Tired, but happy.”
Maya started to crawl up your bed, and you welcomed your firstborn with open arms, holding the young girl against your chest.
Just then, your boys held up four big gift bags — holding two each.
“We stopped by the gift shop and bought everything in sight,” Yuji said. “You can look through it later since you’re tired.”
“You two have a couple of panic shoppers here,” Kento said, looking between you and Satoru, who was putting warm socks on your feet.
With a laugh, you said, “Thank you, boys.”
“You ready to meet your new siblings?” Satoru asked, nodding in the direction of the two bassinets at the front of your room.
The two boys rushed over. Maya only clung to you tighter.
Megumi and Yuji’s eyes widened in unison.
They could have sworn they were looking at the mini versions of you and Satoru.
It was quite humorous. Maya was a perfect mix. Fifty-fifty, as Yuji often described it. But the little girl in the bassinet before him was the spitting image of you, whereas Megumi was looking at a copy-and-paste of Satoru himself.
Carefully, Yuji scooped the baby girl out of the bassinet. “Hi there, remember me? I’m Yuji, the guy who spoke to you every day. I’m your older brother.” He paused, taking in her features. How astonishing. “Wow, you look just like our momma.”
“He won’t let go of my finger,” Megumi suddenly said.
He was standing over the baby boy’s bassinet and reached down to touch his tiny hand. But that tiny newborn gripped his finger with a force Megumi was certain a newborn shouldn’t have.
“I had a feeling you two would bond,” Satoru laughed. He then walked over with Maya, who wasn’t too in love with the idea of ending her snuggle session with you just yet, and he said, “Take a look, muffin.”
Yuji leaned down a bit with the small baby in his arms.
Maya raised her eyebrows. “Ooo!”
Kento walked over then. He adjusted his glasses as he stared down at the baby boy gripping Megumi’s finger.
“Oh, great. Another Satoru,” Kento said.
“In appearance alone,” you chimed in with a little laugh. “He’s a quiet one.”
Their boy looks like Satoru, but is as quiet as Megumi. The girl looks like her mother, but has tons of energy like Yuji. Hilarious, Kento thought.
Around fifteen minutes later, Satoru approached your bed, his phone screen illuminating his face.
“Alright, I just ordered some sushi for you. Yes, I got the right variety. Yes, I told them no wasabi. Yes, I got your favorite drink to go with it,” he said.
“I love you,” you smiled at him, but then, your face fell into a little frown.
“Honey, you look exhausted. Where’s your blindfold?”
It was true. His head was throbbing. Pounding as if someone was slamming a hammer against his skull. His overworked eyes were sore, and with the level of fatigue he was experiencing, he didn’t feel entirely too comfortable carrying one of his newborns right now.
But he snatched off that blindfold so you, his panicked wife, could look into his eyes and know that you weren’t going through any of this alone. So he didn’t mind the suffering.
Satoru simply ignored your question as he smiled, leaned across the bed, and pressed his lips against your soft cheek. “I love you more.”
—♡ —
THE AFTERMATH
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
Quite often, Megumi found himself sitting on the bench at the local park, a nonfiction book — typically about animals — resting in his hands. Normally, it was just him. Him and the gentle breeze that made the leaves of the surrounding trees dance. But lately, his little brother accompanied him.
The eight-month-old was glued to Megumi’s side from the second he was born. Perhaps, it was Megumi’s quiet nature and calming presence that the fellow quiet baby adored. It was no different than the way his hyper eight-month-old sister would giggle and babble when someone as excitable as Yuji was around.
Flipping the page of his book with his thumb, Megumi took a second to glance down at the head of the baby sitting on his lap.
“I wonder if you’ll become an animal guy too,” Megumi mumbled.
The baby looked up at the sound of his beloved brother’s voice. He pressed the bee-shaped toy against his lips, attempting to chew on it.
“Jegi?” The baby babbled.
Megumi smiled softly. “I have no idea what you’re saying, but okay.”
—♡ —
“Babababa . . .”
Satoru, who sat on the floor of the playroom, grinned as his baby girl slowly crawled closer to him.
“You’re coming closer to calling me dada every single day, aren’t you?” He grabbed her gently, pulling her onto his lap. “Wanna go see your mommy? Hm? Wanna see mommy? I wanna see your mommy.”
The kitchen was alive with the sound of a knife meeting your favorite wooden cutting board. Satoru entered to see you standing over the kitchen island, slicing potatoes.
Grabbing the arm of the baby he carried, he made his little girl wave.
“Say hi,” he cooed.
Your excitable baby girl babbled at the sight of you.
“Hi my little baby,” you waved at her.
“She’s going through diapers like crazy today,” Satoru said to you, then turned his attention back to the baby, stroking her cheek with his finger. “Someone doesn’t know how expensive diapers are, hm? You know how many curses I have to kill to afford them? Too many curses, sweetheart.”
“Oh, leave her alone,” you rolled your eyes, grinning.
A figure suddenly appeared inside the kitchen — you couldn’t help but jump a bit. Though you heard him coming — you recognized Yuji’s footsteps — but just as Megumi was starting to look more and more like his father with every passing day, Yuji had gotten taller over the last several months.
The sudden reminder of his height made you sneakily bite your inner cheek, as you remembered that both of your boys were close to turning eighteen, and you and Satoru had something special planned for their birthdays.
You couldn’t believe it. Around two-and-a-half years ago, you adopted them; two orphaned teenage sorcerers who needed a loving family. And now? They were almost adults.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” Yuji greeted. “You guys mind if I take her to the park with me and Maya?”
“No, not at all. We’d appreciate it,” you said.
“Make sure you keep an eye on Muffin. Her latest growth spurt has made her a bit clumsy.” Satoru thought about Maya’s new elementary school class photo, one he sent to all of his friends. “Looks like my little muffin’s gonna be tall like me. Buttt, I don’t care. I’m gonna keep picking her up until she’s fifty-two.”
“You got it. I wanna introduce my, uh . . . friend . . . to some of my siblings.” Yuji smiled, his cheeks becoming a dark shade of pink. “And, um . . . to you guys as well. But I don’t think she’s ready for that. Too soon, ya know?”
You and Satoru exchanged a knowing grin with one another. You then cleared your throat, suppressing the urge to giggle out of pure excitement, and you sliced into another potato. “Well, just know that we would love to meet this friend of yours. She can come over for dinner anytime.”
“Great,” Yuji approached Satoru, taking the babbling baby into his arms. “See you guys later.”
The door opened and closed. After a beat of silence — silence you had grown quite unfamiliar with — you smiled widely at Satoru.
“Yuji might have a girlfriend! This is huge!” As you started to ramble, your husband made his way around the kitchen island, approaching you. “Oh, this is so exciting. I should bake her something whenever she comes over.”
“Yeah, yeah I agree,” The words that Satoru spoke were soft, barely above a whisper, as he closed the distance between you both. His sudden kiss, however, was anything but. He bit your bottom lip with the hunger of a starved man.
He pulled away, his lips hovering above yours.
“Are you even listening to me, sir?” You whispered against them.
“Sorta, kinda,” his warm breath grazed your cheek.
You playfully backed away from him, turning your back to your husband as you started to walk away. “If your answer isn’t yes, then no kisses for you.”
“Oh, don’t you dare.” His large hand wrapped around your wrist. He pulled you back towards him, your chest colliding with his, and he said, “alone time with you doesn’t come often. I’m taking advantage of it.”
His mouth was on you again. And his lips weren’t just kissing yours — no. He trailed his lips and tongue across the skin of your jaw and neck. His wandering hands roamed your body, exploring what was starting to become foreign territory to him after not being able to get any alone time with you. His hand gripped your ass, his lips found their way back up to yours, and he kissed you yet again, releasing a moan into your mouth as his tongue swirled around yours.
Satoru turned you around. Though he viewed his wife as a precious prize — the prize — he wasn’t exactly in the mood to handle you with gentle care right now.
Not when his dick was hardening against the fabric of his pants, begging for freedom and relief.
He used one hand to pull your hips back until your ass met his bulge. He used his other hand to push your back until you were leaning across the kitchen island, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair.
“In the kitchen, ‘Toru?” You said with false innocence. Oh, he could spot that bit of trickery within your voice. “That’s so . . . so unsanitary.”
“Downright nasty, isn’t it, baby?” He thrusted against you. The sheer force of his grind made your arm hit the potatoes on the kitchen island, and you could only watch helplessly as the starchy vegetables scattered onto the floor.
Satoru leaned across you until his chest was against your back. His grip on your hair tightened, the pace of his grinding quickened, and he ran his tongue across your right ear.
“Right there, right there,” he hungrily whispered. He pressed his clothed cock against you harder, your bodies rocking back and forth, back and forth. “Feel that? That’s where I need you, baby.”
“I need you somewhere too,” you breathlessly spoke. Every thrust from him was driving you crazy. You could feel him through your jeans, feel just how badly he needed you.
Satoru released his grip on your hair and let his hands fall to the button and zipper of your jeans, but you suddenly grabbed his hands, halting his advances.
He backed away from you. But, before any questions could flutter from between his wet lips, you turned around, facing him, and got down on your knees.
You ran your hands up his legs.
“My amazing, perfect husband is always showering me with love and affection, waiting on me hand and foot.” You looked up at Satoru with pleading eyes. “I want to show him how much I appreciate him.”
Satoru didn’t say a word. His blindfolded eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt.
It started off with a few, teasing swirls of your tongue around his tip, leaky with precum. But Satoru wasn’t exactly patient. He wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with, not when he wanted his cock somewhere inside of you. And that led to Satoru gripping your hair yet again and thrusting himself down your throat. He tossed his head back at the heavenly feeling, moaning your name like a prayer.
“You can still take all of me, right? Let’s see,” he said.
That was, in a way, your only form of a heads-up before he started to thrust in and out of your hot mouth at a quick pace. Spit dribbled from the corners of your mouth. His moans grew louder, louder, and louder — he was never a quiet man, except for when his brewing orgasm suddenly washed over him, taking his breath away and making him go silent as he shot his load down your awaiting throat, but he then inhaled sharply, and more moans of pure pleasure escaped him as he finished cumming.
Satoru pulled himself out of your mouth with a smirk, and you knew what that smirk meant.
It meant that, while he technically just finished, he wasn’t anywhere near finished.
—♡ —
Clothes were scattered along the kitchen floor, mixed with the knocked-over vegetables, cutting board, and decorative bowl of fruit.
That was the result of Satoru grabbing you off the floor, tossing you over the kitchen island, and fucking you until you were dizzy from the motion of his fast-paced thrusts.
“Give it to me one more time,” he would say after yet another orgasm, and another.
Now, after dragging your clothes back on, you were disinfecting the kitchen island and sipping on water, trying to rehydrate your weakened body, all the while, Satoru picked up the fallen fruits and vegetables.
“Someone lose their voice?” Satoru teased. “I’m glad we don’t have neighbors close by. I can only imagine how they would’ve reacted to all that moaning.”
“Well, I would have apologized and told them to forgive my husband and his whorish ways,” you snapped back with a small grin, wiping the kitchen island.
“I went easy on you this time, ya know. I could’ve kept going,” Satoru said, picking up the cutting board.
“Seriously? My legs hurt, my back hurts, my throat hurts, and I lost count of how many rounds we-” you cut yourself off with a sigh. “Your stamina is insane. Why’d you stop if you weren’t ready to?”
“Well,” with a teasing smirk, he paused. “Number one, Someone — not me, by the way — looked like they were on the verge of meeting their maker. Number two, I was hoping we could get out of the house during the last few hours of our free time.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? We haven’t been to the movies in a while. Or . . . maybe . . .”
“Maybe you could show me what else your mouth can do. Day-time karaoke?”
“Day-time karaoke!” You laughed. “Though . . . I’m divorcing you for that bad joke.”
Satoru walked around the kitchen island. “Let’s go, we can finish cleaning when we come back,” he said, taking the cleaning supplies out of your hand.
“We can sing the song we sang during our first date. Remember?” You looked at him, smiling brightly. Sweet memories came back to you, warming your heart and soul.
“Of course I do,” with a smile that matched your own, he continued, “I almost blacked out from nervousness before we sang together, not after.”
“I can’t believe I used to drive you that crazy.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean used to?” His face frowned up with great offense — you would’ve thought you had raised your hand and slapped him across the cheek.
“Come on now, you’re not damn near fainting and stuttering around me like you used to do,” you said. “You’ve gotten used to being around me. Our love has changed from that puppy-like, crushing stage into something mature and wholesome, and that’s fine. It’s beautiful.”
“Wrong,” Satoru put the cleaning supplies down. “Maybe I don’t stutter anymore, but you still drive me crazy. I’ve just gotten better at hiding it.”
“Pretty words.”
“You don’t believe me?”
You shook your head as a way of saying no.
“Gimme your hand,” Satoru nodded down at your wrist. “Come on, give it here.”
You did as you were told despite your confusion. Your husband placed your hand upon his chest, and you felt it against your palm.
The fast-paced thumping of his heart.
“What the hell? Why is your heart beating so fast?” You asked, pulling your hand away.
“Pretty sure it’s because my extraordinary, beautiful, amazing, loving, super cute wife just smiled at me a minute ago.”
Oh.
You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him. He didn’t waste a second before returning your hug.
“I love you. What did I do to deserve you?” You asked, taking in his comforting scent.
“I ask myself the same thing every morning. What did you do to deserve me?”
A laugh escaped from you as you pulled away from him. Shaking your head, you started to walk out of the kitchen. “Okay, you know what? I’m about to go get ready, and you can shower by yourself.”
And with that, your dear husband, the Satoru Gojo, the special-grade sorcerer who loved his amazing wife and five children more than anything, followed you down the hallway, shouting, “Wait, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I bought a house with a shower big enough for two people for a reason!”
I am Mohammed, I live in the northern besieged Gaza Strip, I am 21 years old, I have always tried to create a beautiful future for myself in which I achieve all my wishes. I had ambitions and dreams, but they evaporated because of the war, but I still want to achieve them despite the siege. During the war, I lost many things, including my university, my dreams, my job, and some friends. Despite that, I still want to achieve my dreams and ambitions. I want to rebuild my life again, so please help me in that and rebuild my life. Therefore,
please donate as much as you can because that helps me a lot. If you cannot donate, tell people about my suffering.
My name is Mohammed, I live in a neighborhood in Shujaiyya, an area in the north of Gaza. I am 21 years old , the eldest among my siblings.
Hello, my name is Lama, and I am from Gaza City, specifically in the northern Gaza Strip. I grew up in a loving family of resilience and hope, with my parents working tirelessly to provide us with a life of dignity and opportunity. My father was our steadfast provider, and my mother was the heart of our home. I have two brothers and three sisters, the youngest of whom is just six months old. She is frail and often sick due to the lack of proper food and medicine. My siblings and I have shared dreams of education, careers and a bright future. But life in Gaza is marked by hardship, and when the war began, everything we had built was shattered. My older brother, a kind and a courageous soul, was martyred while trying to secure basic necessities for our survival, my younger sister was gravely injured, and the cost of her treatment weighs more than the universe to us, now the responsibility for my family has fallen on my shoulders.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #510 )✅️
Hello, my name is Lama, and I am from Gaza City, specifically in the northern Gaza Strip. I grew up in a loving family of resilience and hop
Our home, once filled with warmth, laughter and memories, has been reduced to rubble. We have been displaced more than thirty times from place to a place with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Each time we returned, we found more destruction, we always clung to the hope of rebuilding, but in the last attack, our home was completely destroyed, we are now homeless, living in unsafe conditions with no shelter to protect us from the cold nights. The loss of our home is not just the loss of a building, it’s the loss of safety, stability, and the place where our dreams were nurtured.
With my father unemployed since the beginning of the war, we have no income to provide even the most basic necessities. Water, food, medicine, warm clothes and blankets-things that many take for granted-are beyond our reach. Every day is a battle for survival, and every night is a reminder of the dangers and struggles we face. I am determined to care for family and give my younger brothers and sisters a chance to grow up with hope. But I cannot do it alone.
I am reaching out to you with a plea for compassion and action. Your support can help us rebuild our lives, restore hope, and secure a future where my family can live in peace and safety. Every donation, no matter how small brings us closer to survival and dignity. Please for the sake of god and humanity, help us in this time of desperate need.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #640 )✅️
My name is Fatima, a 21-year-old woman🤰.Just one month before the war, I was engaged, dreaming of a warm home and a small family.But the war tore us apart—my fiancé and I were separated between northern and southern Gaza, with no way to communicate💔.
Despite the pain, we held on to hope. Months later, I left my family and joined him.We got married, believing it was the start of a new life.But the bombing returned, and we were displaced again… Now we live in a fragile tent in western Gaza, awaiting the birth of our first child amid conditions unfit for life🥹😭.
I’m pregnant🤰, and my due date is near🥹. I have none of the essentials I need as a mother or even as a human being🙏.We lack everything: medical care, food, clean water, and basic supplies for childbirth and the baby🥲.
I’m not asking for the impossible—just enough to protect my life and my baby’s
Your donation is our only hope🥹😢.
I am Fatima, a 21-year-old woman.I got engaged just one month before the war started. My dreams were simple: a warm home, a small family, an
My campaign is new and has not received much support. Please support me and my family.
https://chuffed.org/project/helpfatema
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #640 )✅️
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