𝕲𝖎𝖌𝖎

At first, it had been easy to ignore. You had thrown yourselves into the routine of taking care of the kids, focusing on their needs and on rebuilding the fragile peace that had settled over your life. But every time Gojo was near—every time his hand brushed yours, or his gaze lingered just a little too long—the tension flared, a silent acknowledgment that something was changing.

You hadn’t spoken about it. Not directly. But you both knew it was there.

And now, after days of walking that fine line, the weight of it was becoming impossible to bear.

It was late at night, the kind of stillness that comes when the world is asleep. The twins were soundly tucked away in their crib, and your daughter was fast asleep in her own room, the house wrapped in a blanket of silence. You had been sharing a quiet evening with Gojo, as you often did these days, sitting together in the dim light of the living room. A bottle of wine sat between you, half-empty, the two of you having indulged in a few glasses to unwind after a long day.

It had been peaceful at first—just the two of you, the soft clink of glasses breaking the silence as you exchanged small, easy conversation. But as the evening wore on, the atmosphere began to shift. The space between you felt smaller, more intimate, and every glance, every touch of fingers as you passed the bottle, carried with it a weight that neither of you could ignore.

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the conversation fell away and was replaced by something else. But as you sat there, your body warm from the wine, your gaze met Gojo’s, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable.

There was a tension there, something that had been simmering for far too long. And this time, you didn’t want to ignore it.

Gojo’s hand rested on the table, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his wine glass, but his eyes were fixed on you. His usual playful expression was gone, replaced by something deeper, something far more intense. You could feel it in the way his gaze lingered on your face, the way his body leaned just a little closer to yours, as if drawn to you by some invisible force.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, and you could hear the soft, unsteady rhythm of your own breathing.

The door had been opened. The words you had exchanged days ago had broken down the last of the barriers between you, and now, the tension was impossible to ignore. It was only a matter of time before it reached a boiling point, before the unspoken desire that had been simmering between you for weeks finally spilled over.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry as you looked away, trying to gather your thoughts. But the movement only brought you closer to Gojo, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating off him.

It was inevitable. You both knew it.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. It was such a simple touch, but it carried with it the weight of everything you hadn’t said, everything you had been holding back.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and the look in his eyes stole your breath away. There was no mistaking it now—this was more than just the remnants of old feelings, more than just the pull of the past. This was something new, something raw, and it was pulling you both under.

Without another word, you stood, your movements slow and deliberate. You could feel Gojo’s eyes on you as you took a step back, your heart racing, and then you turned, walking toward your room. It wasn’t a decision you had consciously made—it was instinctual, driven by the pull that had been building between you for so long.

You didn’t have to look back to know that Gojo was following you.

The path to your room felt longer than it should have, each step heavy with anticipation, the quiet sound of Gojo’s footsteps right behind you sending your pulse racing. You could feel him—his presence like a magnetic force drawing you in, pulling you toward something you couldn’t quite name but knew you couldn’t stop.

When you reached your room, you hesitated for a moment, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took a deep breath. The weight of what was about to happen settled over you, but instead of fear, all you felt was a strange sense of calm. This was inevitable. This had been building for too long, and now, with the door open, there was no turning back.

You stepped inside, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. You turned, and Gojo was there, standing in the doorway, his blue eyes dark with something you had never quite seen in him before. The playful, carefree mask he so often wore was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that took your breath away.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you was electric, and you could feel it in every inch of your body—the pull, the desire, the need that had been building for so long.

And then, finally, Gojo took a step forward.

It was slow at first, hesitant, as if he was giving you one last chance to stop this, to step back and close the door that had been opened. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The pull between you was too strong, too overwhelming to resist.

Gojo reached you, his hands finding your waist, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, he hesitated, his forehead resting against yours as if he was trying to steady himself.

“You sure about this?” he whispered, his voice low and rough, filled with the same tension that had been simmering between you for days.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all it took.

In the next moment, his lips were on yours, and the world around you seemed to fall away. The kiss was intense, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you in the moment.

It was everything you had been holding back, everything you had been afraid to admit, pouring out in a single moment of release.

And it was perfect.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, your fingers curling into his shirt as you kissed him back, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. The room felt smaller, the air between you thick with anticipation, and as Gojo deepened the kiss, all the tension, all the unspoken words, melted away, leaving only the two of you.

This was it. The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

And for the first time, that didn’t scare you.

As Gojo’s hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer, you realized that this—whatever it was, whatever it would become—was the next step in whatever strange, beautiful, complicated thing was unfolding between you.

And you were ready for it.

The room was still, bathed in the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. The air was heavy with the weight of what had just happened, a quiet intimacy settling over you and Gojo as you lay beside each other. The tension that had been simmering for weeks had finally broken, but instead of the relief you had expected, there was something else—something softer, deeper.

Gojo’s arm was draped over your waist, his body warm and solid against yours. You lay with your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall beneath you. The quiet between you was comfortable, but underneath it, there was still so much left unsaid. So much that lingered in the space between breaths.

You shifted slightly, your hand resting on his chest as you turned to look at him. Gojo’s eyes were half-closed, his usual bright blue gaze softened in the dim light, but he was watching you, his expression unreadable. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked at you now, something raw and unguarded that you hadn’t seen before.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, not awkward but filled with a quiet understanding. You had crossed the line, stepped into something new, and there was no going back. But instead of the tension that had simmered between you for so long, there was something warmer, something more comforting in the aftermath.

Finally, Gojo broke the silence, his voice low and quiet. “You okay?”

You nodded, your hand still resting on his chest. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

He let out a soft breath, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as he held you close. “I didn’t… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not sorry.”

You smiled, a small, tired smile, and rested your head back on his chest. “Neither am I.”

It was the truth. You weren’t sorry. For weeks, maybe even months, this moment had been building, and now that it had finally happened, it felt like a weight had been lifted. The tension, the unspoken desires, the complicated feelings that had tangled between you—they had all been laid bare. And instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt calm. Settled.

Gojo’s fingers continued to trace slow circles on your skin, and for a moment, the silence between you was enough. But there were still things you needed to say. Things that had lingered in the back of your mind, waiting for the right moment.

“Satoru,” you began softly, your voice hesitant.

“Hm?” His voice was a low hum, content and relaxed, but you could feel the shift in his body as he waited for you to continue.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “What… what happens now? With us?”

There it was—the question that had been hanging in the air since the moment you crossed the line. You had been dancing around it for so long, avoiding the inevitable conversation, but now, with the tension gone and the intimacy of the night settling over you, there was no avoiding it anymore.

Gojo didn’t answer right away. His hand stilled on your back, and you could feel him thinking, processing the weight of your question. His chest rose and fell beneath you as he took a deep breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, careful.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “I’m not sure what this means. But… I don’t want to go back to how things were before.”

You nodded, understanding the complexity of what he was saying. This wasn’t something that could be neatly categorized. Your relationship with Gojo had always been complicated, and now, after everything that had happened, it was even more so. But you didn’t want to go back either. The intimacy you had shared—the connection that had been building for so long—was something you couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “But I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for us, for the kids.”

Gojo’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “I know,” he murmured. “And I’m not going to push you. Whatever this is, whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with questions you didn’t have answers to, but Gojo’s presence beside you, his steady warmth, made the uncertainty a little easier to bear.

“I just want to be here for you,” he continued softly. “For you, for the kids. That’s all I know for sure.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you lifted your head to look at him. His blue eyes were open now, watching you carefully, and the raw honesty in his gaze made your heart ache.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared to let you in. I don’t know if I can handle losing someone else.”

Gojo’s expression softened, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was the same quiet determination that had been there since the moment he came back into your life. Gojo wasn’t like Suguru. He wasn’t going to walk away, wasn’t going to leave you to face the world alone.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Gojo smiled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “We’ll take it slow,” he said gently. “One step at a time. No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of your fears begin to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy—nothing about your life had ever been easy—but with Gojo beside you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I can do that,” you whispered, your voice steadying. “One step at a time.”

Gojo leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

You smiled, a real, genuine smile, and rested your head back on his chest. The quiet of the night settled around you again, but this time, the tension was gone. In its place was something softer, something more stable.

The door had been opened, and now, there was no going back. But instead of fear, all you felt was a quiet certainty.

This was the beginning of something new. Something uncertain, yes, but something worth holding on to.

And with Gojo beside you, for the first time in a long time, you were ready to face whatever came next.

The days following that night passed in a blur of quiet moments and stolen glances. The tension between you and Gojo had shifted, giving way to a softer, more intimate dynamic that felt as natural as it did unfamiliar. The unspoken connection between you was no longer tinged with awkwardness or uncertainty, but there was still the weight of everything that had happened. The newness of your relationship, whatever it had become, was something you were both navigating slowly, carefully.

There were no grand declarations, no discussions about what this meant for the future. Instead, you fell into a kind of unspoken understanding, a rhythm that came naturally as the days passed. It was easier to be around him now, easier to let him in, and with every passing day, it felt like the line you had crossed was becoming less daunting and more of a welcome presence in your life.

One morning, you woke up earlier than usual, the light filtering softly through the curtains as you lay in bed, your thoughts still hazy with sleep. Gojo wasn’t beside you, but that didn’t surprise you. He had taken to getting up early to help with the kids, something that had become a sort of quiet routine between the two of you. It was strange—this domesticity, this sense of normalcy—but it was comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

You stretched, the soft warmth of the blanket still wrapped around you, before getting out of bed. The house was quiet, save for the distant sounds of your daughter’s giggles coming from the kitchen, and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sound. You walked down the hallway, pausing at the doorway to the kitchen, where you found Gojo sitting at the table with your daughter perched on his lap, the twins in their high chairs, babbling softly.

Gojo looked up when he heard you, his bright blue eyes meeting yours with a soft smile. “Morning,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Morning,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe as you watched the scene unfold before you. It was still strange, seeing him so deeply involved in your everyday life, but it was a good kind of strange. He had slipped into this role so naturally, so effortlessly, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of warmth as you watched him interact with your children.

Your daughter giggled again, reaching up to pat Gojo’s face, her little fingers poking at his cheek. “Papa Sato!” she chirped, a nickname she had started using more often lately.

Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the term, but he quickly recovered, smiling down at her as he gently ruffled her hair. “That’s me,” he said playfully, though there was something deeper in his tone, something softer.

You bit back a smile, watching as Gojo handled the situation with his usual lightheartedness, but you could see the way the word had affected him. It was a simple thing—your daughter’s innocent use of “Papa Sato”—but it carried so much weight.

You walked over to the table, placing a hand on the back of one of the chairs before sitting down across from them. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” you said, glancing at the twins, who were both busy with their breakfast, babbling in their high chairs.

Gojo grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning. “You could say that,” he replied, his tone teasing. “But I’m handling it like a pro.”

Your daughter reached for her spoon, which Gojo handed to her, guiding her tiny hands as she tried to scoop up some food. The moment was simple, domestic, but it carried a weight that was hard to describe. You had never imagined this—this quiet life with Gojo, this shared responsibility of raising your children. But now that it was happening, you found yourself settling into it, slowly but surely.

The sound of the twins giggling brought your attention back to the table, and you smiled at them, your heart swelling with affection. The room was filled with warmth, the kind of warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a far cry from the chaos that had defined your life in recent years, but it was a welcome change.

Gojo leaned back slightly, one arm still around your daughter as he looked at you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious.

You nodded, the weight of his question settling over you. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the kids. It was a simple exchange, but it carried the quiet understanding that had come to define your relationship. There was no need for grand gestures or declarations. You both knew where you stood, and that was enough for now.

The rest of the morning passed in a peaceful rhythm. You and Gojo worked together to get the kids dressed, your daughter insisting on wearing her favorite outfit—one of Suguru’s old shirts that she had claimed as her own—and the twins babbling happily as they were settled into their play area. It was a simple routine, but it was one that had become second nature.

After the kids were settled, you found yourself standing in the kitchen again, cleaning up the remnants of breakfast while Gojo sat at the table, watching the twins with a soft smile. The quiet between you was comfortable, filled with the warmth of shared moments, but there was still an undercurrent of something unspoken, something that lingered in the air.

As you wiped down the counter, Gojo’s voice broke the silence, his tone thoughtful. “You know,” he began slowly, “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other night.”

You paused, glancing over at him. He was watching you, his expression serious but not tense. You knew what he was referring to—the conversation you’d had after crossing the line, the talk of what this new dynamic meant for both of you.

“What about it?” you asked, your voice steady but curious.

Gojo leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into anything,” he said softly. “I know things are complicated, and I don’t want to make it harder for you.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were quiet, processing the sincerity behind them. Gojo had always been confident, always sure of himself, but when it came to you, there was a new kind of gentleness, a vulnerability that made you realize just how much he cared.

You walked over to him, leaning against the back of the chair as you met his gaze. “You’re not pushing me,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours where they rested on the chair. The touch was light, but it carried with it a quiet reassurance that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “I know,” you whispered. “And I appreciate it. But I’m okay, Satoru. Really.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was the kind of silence that came with understanding, with acceptance. The two of you were still figuring things out, still navigating this new territory, but the foundation was there, and it was strong.

Gojo’s fingers lingered on yours for a moment longer before he leaned back, his usual playful grin returning. “Well, good,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you straightened up. “Yeah, I figured.”

As the morning wore on, the ease between you remained. The newness of your relationship was still there, still fragile, but it was growing stronger with every passing day. The tension that had once defined your interactions was gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that made everything feel just a little bit easier.

For the first time in a long time, your life felt like it was settling into something normal. Something good.

And as you watched Gojo playing with your children, his laughter mixing with theirs, you realized that this—whatever it was, whatever it would become—was exactly where you were meant to be.

The night was quiet, wrapped in the warmth of familiarity and intimacy. The moonlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. The sound of your steady breathing and the rhythmic rise and fall of Gojo’s chest created a comforting rhythm that filled the space. The world outside felt far away, distant, as you lay wrapped in the afterglow of the night you had shared.

Gojo’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your bare skin. The closeness between you felt different now—more settled, more real. There was no longer the tension of uncertainty hanging between you, no more unspoken words waiting to be addressed. What had started with a hesitant kiss had grown into something far deeper, something neither of you had quite expected but welcomed nonetheless.

The silence was comfortable, each of you lost in your own thoughts, but you knew where Gojo’s mind had drifted. You could see it in the way his eyes softened whenever they lingered on you. There was something unspoken still lingering, something that neither of you had dared to bring up. Not yet.

Gojo’s fingers stilled for a moment before he spoke, his voice low and quiet, almost hesitant. “You ever think about it?”

You blinked, turning your head to look at him, your mind still half-lost in the haze of contentment. “About what?”

He smiled softly, his gaze shifting away from you, as though he was embarrassed to say it out loud. “About… what it would be like. If we had a kid together.”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t something you had really thought about—at least, not consciously. But now that he had said it, now that the possibility was out there, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

A child. A baby that looked like Gojo—his bright blue eyes, his white hair, that mischievous grin that always seemed to carry the weight of the world so lightly.

You smiled at the thought, the idea of it settling into your mind with surprising ease. “I’ve… thought about it,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t think it was something we’d ever talk about.”

Gojo’s gaze snapped back to yours, his eyes wide with surprise, but there was something else there too. Hope. He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching your face. “You have?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the way he was looking at you. “Yeah. I mean… I have three kids already. But the idea of having one that looks like you… It’s crossed my mind.”

Gojo’s smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I’m surprised you’d want a mini-me running around. You sure you’re ready for that chaos?”

You laughed, the sound light and easy. “I don’t know if I’m ready, but… I don’t think it’s the worst idea.”

There was a pause, the air between you thick with the weight of the conversation. You hadn’t expected to talk about this, not so soon, but now that the idea was out there, it felt… right. Like it was something that had been lingering in the background all along, waiting for the right moment to come to light.

Gojo’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “A baby,” he murmured, almost to himself. “One that looks like me, huh?”

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head to meet his gaze. “White hair, blue eyes, and all.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his playful grin fading into something more serious, more intimate. “It’s strange,” he said quietly. “I never thought about having kids. Not until now. But seeing you with them, seeing how happy they make you… I don’t know. I guess I started wondering.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. The idea of having a baby with Gojo wasn’t something you had let yourself dwell on before, but now that the thought was there, it felt… natural. You had already built a life together in so many ways—raising the children, sharing your home, finding comfort in each other’s presence. The idea of adding a new life to that mix, one that was a part of both of you, felt like the next step in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“What would you want?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “A boy or a girl?”

Gojo chuckled, leaning into your touch. “Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy, I don’t care. But I bet you’d want a little girl. Someone you could dress up and spoil.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You think I’d spoil her?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think you’d spoil her rotten. And you know what? I would too.”

The thought of it—a little girl with Gojo’s eyes, running around, laughing, getting into mischief—made your heart ache in the best way. It was a dream, a possibility that hadn’t been there before, but now it felt so real, so attainable.

“You’d be a good dad,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

Gojo’s eyes softened, his hand still resting gently on your cheek. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you said, smiling at him. “You’re already so good with the kids. They love you. And you love them.”

Gojo’s gaze flickered with something deeper, something more vulnerable. “I didn’t expect this,” he admitted softly. “Any of it. But now that it’s here, I can’t imagine my life without it. Without you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, a silent acknowledgment of everything you had shared, everything you were building together.

“A baby,” you murmured against his lips. “I can see it.”

Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a quiet intensity in his gaze. “I want that,” he whispered, his voice filled with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “With you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, but instead of fear or uncertainty, all you felt was warmth. You had never imagined your life taking this turn—never imagined that after everything you had been through, you would find this kind of peace with Gojo. But now that it was happening, now that the possibility of a new life, a new baby, was out there, it felt right.

“You really want this?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Gojo’s smile was soft, his hand brushing your hair away from your face as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I really do.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, your heart pounding in your chest as you leaned into him, your body relaxing against his. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, it felt full of possibilities—beautiful, messy, chaotic possibilities.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the dream of a baby with Gojo became more than just a fleeting thought. It became something real, something you both wanted, something you could both see in your future.

And as you drifted off to sleep, the thought of what could be lingered in the back of your mind, filling you with a quiet sense of hope.

A new baby. A new life.

One that looked like Gojo, white hair, blue eyes, and all.

notes: ITS DONE THANK FUCKING GOD!

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It started with small things. Jokes about the children, their habits and quirks. Gojo, ever the playful one, was a natural with them, making up ridiculous stories that had your daughter giggling uncontrollably. His presence in the hideout had become a steady, comforting rhythm in your life, and slowly, without even realizing it, you began to joke with him again—just like you used to.

One evening, after the children were asleep and the quiet settled over the hideout like a soft blanket, you found yourself sitting with Gojo at the kitchen table. The day had been long, and you were exhausted, but there was something comforting about sitting across from him, sipping tea and allowing the silence to be filled with easy, casual conversation.

“Your son,” Gojo began, a smirk playing on his lips, “is a menace.”

You raised na eyebrow, knowing full well which of the twins he was referring to. “Oh? What did he do this time?”

Gojo leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “He spent a solid ten minutes staring at me like he was planning my demise. I’m telling you, he’s going to be a sorcerer to reckon with.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He’s just curious. Maybe he’s plotting something, though—you are pretty annoying.”

Gojo clutched his chest dramatically, feigning hurt. “You wound me. Here I am, helping you raise these kids, and this is the thanks I get?”

You laughed, a sound that felt so natural, so easy now. It surprised you, how comfortable you had become with him again. The banter, the teasing—it was like slipping into na old, familiar rhythm you hadn’t realized you missed.

“Maybe he’s just imitating you,” you said, a playful smile on your lips. “Plotting, scheming… sounds like something you’d do.”

Gojo grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Oh, definitely. I’ve taught him well. He’s going to surpass even me one day.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of the conversation lingered. The ease with which you spoke to him now felt like a bridge between the past and the present. You had spent so long carrying the weight of everything that had happened between you and Suguru, but now, with Gojo’s presence, it felt like you were rediscovering parts of yourself you had thought were lost.

The banter between you began to grow more personal over time. You’d tease him about how easily he got the children to sleep—“It’s the voice,” he’d say with a wink—or how your daughter had become attached to his ridiculous stories. And then, one evening, the conversation took a slightly more personal turn.

You were both sitting in the living room, the twins asleep in the crib nearby, your daughter already tucked into bed. You were feeling particularly tired that night, your body still recovering from the strain of carrying and giving birth to the twins. As you shifted uncomfortably in your chair, you caught Gojo looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Rough day?” he asked, his tone light, but there was genuine concern in his eyes.

You sighed dramatically, leaning back. “Rough body, more like it. Two pregnancies… Let’s just say my body is not what it used to be.”

Gojo’s expression softened, though his lips quirked into a smile. “You still look amazing,” he said casually. “Two pregnancies and all.”

You snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, well, if anyone’s to blame for how I look now, it’s Suguru. That man was insatiable. I swear, he was like a rabbit.”

The words came out before you really had a chance to think about them, and for a brief moment, you felt a flash of embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be so candid, but the comfort between you and Gojo had lulled you into letting your guard down.

To your surprise, Gojo burst out laughing, his head tilting back as he let out a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. It was a sound you hadn’t heard in a long time, and it warmed your heart.

“Oh, I believe it,” he said between laughs. “Suguru always had that… intense energy about him. I guess it carried over in more ways than one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the ridiculousness of the conversation pulling you out of your initial embarrassment. “It’s his fault my body is a mess,” you said, grinning now. “Two pregnancies back-to-back? It’s like I’ve aged ten years.”

Gojo leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I always wondered why you two were so… close. Now I get it. Suguru just couldn’t keep his hands off you.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him playfully. “Oh, please. You’re just jealous.”

Gojo raised na eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Maybe a little. I mean, look at me—how could anyone resist all this?”

The exaggerated confidence in his voice had you laughing again, the tension that had once existed between you all but forgotten. It felt good, this easy banter, this lighthearted teasing. It was like a piece of your old dynamic had returned, and it was a welcome relief from the heaviness that had defined your life for so long.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, shaking your head. “Keep telling yourself that, Gojo.”

He leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face softening into something more genuine. “But really,” he said, his tone more serious now, “you’ve been through a lot. And you’re still here, still strong. That’s more than most people could handle.”

You looked at him, his words sinking in, and for a moment, the weight of the past felt a little lighter. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I guess I didn’t really have a choice. I had to keep going.”

Gojo nodded, his eyes meeting yours with na understanding that went beyond words. “You’re not doing this alone anymore,” he said quietly. “You’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, but it was a good ache—one that reminded you that, despite everything, you weren’t alone. You had Gojo now, and even though your relationship had changed, even though you had lost so much, there was still something between you. Something that was worth holding on to.

You gave him a small smile, the playful banter between you giving way to something deeper. “I know,” you said softly. “And I’m glad.”

As the night went on, you continued to tease each other, the lighthearted moments slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of your new routine. It was different now—your relationship with Gojo had evolved into something more mature, more grounded in the reality of your shared experiences. But the familiarity, the comfort, was still there.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were beginning to heal.

The hideout was unusually quiet that evening, a soft, serene atmosphere settling over the space like a warm blanket. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow through the windows, the last remnants of daylight filtering into the living room. The twins were asleep, their soft breathing filling the room with a rhythmic calm. Your daughter was nestled beside you on the couch, her head resting in your lap as she dozed off, exhausted from a day of play and mischief.

Gojo sat across the room, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the peaceful scene unfold. You were absentmindedly stroking your daughter’s hair, your own eyes heavy with the weight of the day’s exhaustion. It was a simple, domestic moment—one filled with a quiet kind of contentment that had become more frequent lately.

Gojo didn’t say anything, but his heart ached as he watched you, his mind drifting to places it rarely went. In moments like these, when the house was still and the world felt far away, reality dawned on him in ways that made it impossible to ignore. He had spent years running from these thoughts, avoiding the painful questions that came with them. But now, with you and your children woven into his life, the thoughts were unavoidable.

This could have been his life.

The thought hit him with a quiet intensity, and for a moment, Gojo closed his eyes, letting the weight of it wash over him. He had always been so sure of himself—so sure of the choices he had made, the life he had built. But here, in the warmth of this quiet moment, he couldn’t help but wonder.

What if?

What if he had accepted your confession all those years ago? What if he hadn’t pushed you away, hadn’t kept you at arm’s length, thinking he was protecting you? What if, instead of rejecting you, he had let himself love you the way you had wanted him to?

He looked at your children—the twins and your daughter—each of them a reflection of the life you had built with Suguru. They were beautiful, perfect in every way, and yet, Gojo couldn’t stop the pang of jealousy that twisted in his chest. Those children could have been his. They could have been running around with blue eyes and white hair, just like him.

He tried to imagine it—your children with his features, his laugh, his mannerisms—but it felt surreal. It was a life that never came to be, one that had slipped through his fingers the moment he had pushed you away. The life you had built with Suguru had been real, tangible, while the one he was imagining was nothing more than a daydream.

He opened his eyes again, watching as your daughter shifted in your lap, her small fingers clutching at your shirt. You were so gentle with her, so patient. You had grown into motherhood in ways that he never expected—ways that made him realize just how much time had passed since those early years.

Gojo let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as his mind wandered back to the past. He thought of you as you were back then—young, full of life, with wide eyes and a heart that beat too fast whenever he was around. He had been your teacher, the person you looked up to the most, and at the time, he couldn’t see you as anything but a kid. Someone he needed to protect, someone too young to understand the weight of the world around them.

You had confessed to him, your heart laid bare, and he had turned you away. He had thought he was doing the right thing—keeping you safe, keeping things simple. But now, as he looked at you—older, more worn, but stronger than ever—he realized how wrong he had been.

You had left Jujutsu High soon after that rejection, running straight into Suguru’s arms. And then, not long after, your first pregnancy. Gojo’s heart clenched at the thought. You had been so young, still so fragile in his eyes. He couldn’t even imagine what you had gone through during that time—adjusting to your new life with Suguru, carrying a child before you were even ready to fully process what that meant.

What had it been like for you? Had you been scared? Alone? Did Suguru comfort you in ways Gojo hadn’t, hadn’t known how to? He wasn’t sure, and the not knowing hurt almost as much as the reality of it.

You were still just a kid to him back then—at least, that’s how he had seen you. He hadn’t realized how quickly you had grown up, how quickly you had been forced to grow up. By the time he understood, it was already too late.

Gojo leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor, lost in thought. He had always believed he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance, by not allowing himself to care too deeply. But what had that gotten him? A lifetime of regrets. A lifetime spent watching from the sidelines as you built a life with Suguru—a life that could have been his, if only he had been brave enough to accept it.

He glanced at you again, watching the way your fingers gently stroked your daughter’s hair, your soft breathing matching the rhythm of the room. You looked so calm, so at peace in this moment, and yet, Gojo knew the weight you carried. The loss of Suguru was something that would never fully heal, but you were moving forward, day by day, and Gojo found himself wondering if he could ever be part of that forward motion.

Could this be his life, now? Could he truly step into the space Suguru had once filled, not to replace him, but to support you in a way he hadn’t before? He wasn’t sure. It felt like an impossible line to walk, but here he was, in your life in ways he never expected to be.

The children were part of that life now. He had accepted that much. He couldn’t imagine not being there for them, not being a presence in their world. But when he thought of your first pregnancy—the one that had happened so soon after you left—his chest tightened with a deep, aching sadness. You had been so young, too young to handle something like that alone. He wondered if you had been scared, if you had wanted to turn to him but couldn’t.

He hated the thought of you suffering without him.

Gojo shifted in his seat, glancing at you again. The soft rise and fall of your chest as you rested with your daughter made his heart ache. He knew he couldn’t change the past. He knew he couldn’t go back in time and accept your confession the way you had wanted him to. But the present—this moment right now—was something he could hold on to.

Maybe this was his second chance. Not to rewrite history, but to make sure that, moving forward, you wouldn’t be alone. That he wouldn’t let you carry the weight of everything by yourself.

In these soft, domestic moments, Gojo allowed himself to imagine what could have been. But more importantly, he began to wonder what could still be.

Maybe this life wasn’t the one he had imagined, but it was the one that was in front of him. And for the first time, Gojo wasn’t going to run from it.

He looked at you again, his heart full of unspoken words. He couldn’t bring himself to say them yet, but he knew, deep down, that this was where he was meant to be—by your side, with your children, in this fragile, beautiful life you had built together.

Over the past few weeks, the space between you had changed—mended, perhaps, in ways that neither of you had anticipated. The laughter had returned, the easy banter, the shared moments of comfort, but beneath it all, there were still things unsaid. Things that lingered, unspoken, between the two of you.

You both sat in the kitchen, a single lamp casting a warm glow over the room. Gojo was sitting across from you, his hands resting on the table as he sipped his tea. He had been quieter than usual tonight, more thoughtful. You could feel the tension in him, like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to begin.

You knew what it was. You could see it in the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he was about to ask but then thought better of it. You waited patiently, knowing that this was a conversation that would come eventually.

Finally, Gojo set his cup down, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as he looked at you. His usual confidence was missing, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

You nodded, already knowing what was coming. “Of course.”

He took a deep breath, his blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. “How was it? With Suguru… after you left. How did it all happen?”

His voice was soft, but the weight of the question hung heavily between you. This was something you hadn’t talked about in detail, something you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself. But now, in this quiet moment, with Gojo sitting across from you, waiting for na answer, you felt the truth pressing at your lips.

You closed your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts. When you opened them again, Gojo was watching you closely, his expression gentle, patient.

“It was… odd,” you said slowly, your voice trembling slightly. “We didn’t love each other at first. It wasn’t like that.”

Gojo remained silent, listening intently as you continued.

“It was more like duty,” you admitted, your heart aching at the memory. “I had just left Jujutsu High, and everything was chaotic. Suguru… he wanted a kid. He believed it was part of his plan, his vision for the future. And I—I didn’t know what I wanted.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his expression filled with something like sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, needing to finish the story.

“It wasn’t love, that’s for sure,” you said, your voice growing quieter. “At least, not in the beginning. We were together because it made sense. Because he needed someone by his side, and I… I was lost. After you rejected me, I didn’t know where I belonged. And Suguru… he gave me something to hold on to, even if it wasn’t what I expected.”

Gojo’s face twisted with regret, his hands tightening into fists on the table. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t—”

You raised a hand, cutting him off gently. “It’s not your fault. I made my choices.”

There was a brief silence, and you could see the turmoil in Gojo’s eyes, the way he wrestled with the guilt of what had happened. But you weren’t finished yet.

“When it happened,” you said, your voice softer now, “when I found out I was pregnant with her, it changed things. Before that, it was just… duty. But Suguru was kind when it mattered. He was patient and gentle, especially after everything that happened. He made sure I was taken care of. I didn’t know what I was doing—I was so young, and it all happened so fast. But he helped me. He made it easier.”

Gojo looked at you with na intensity that made your chest tighten. “Did you love him?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, the weight of the question heavy in the air. It was a question you had asked yourself many times over the years. The answer had always been complicated.

“Eventually,” you said softly. “We grew into it. It wasn’t the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet. It was more… slow. Steady. But it was real, in the end.”

Gojo’s gaze dropped to the table, his fingers tapping against the wood again as he processed your words. He didn’t speak for a long time, and you could see the conflict in him—the regret, the sadness, the wondering of what could have been.

You swallowed hard, knowing that you couldn’t leave this part unsaid. It was the part you had always hidden, the part that still made your heart ache.

“Some nights,” you said quietly, your voice trembling, “I wished it was you.”

Gojo’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with surprise. You saw the shock on his face, the way his lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

“It was easier that way,” you continued, your heart pounding in your chest. “When things were hard, when I felt alone, I’d imagine that it was you. That you were the one by my side. I was so confused, and I missed you, even though you had pushed me away. It helped to pretend that maybe… maybe things could have been different.”

The silence between you was deafening, and for a moment, you thought you might have said too much. You hadn’t meant to admit that. You hadn’t meant to open that door, but now it was out there, and there was no taking it back.

Gojo stared at you, his expression filled with na emotion you couldn’t quite place. Regret, yes, but also something deeper, something raw.

“But then I stopped,” you said softly, your eyes drifting to the table. “I stopped pretending when I found out I was pregnant with Kaori. It happened soon after. Suguru was… he was overjoyed. And I couldn’t pretend anymore. I had to accept the life I had chosen, even if it wasn’t the one I had imagined.”

Gojo let out a long, shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He looked overwhelmed, like the weight of everything you had said was crashing down on him all at once.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The truth between you hung heavy in the air, raw and painful, but there was a strange sense of relief too. You had finally said it—finally admitted the truth about your relationship with Suguru, about the complicated feelings that had haunted you for so long.

Finally, Gojo lowered his gaze, his eyes meeting yours again, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I wish I could go back,” he said, his voice trembling with regret. “I wish I had seen you. I wish I hadn’t been so… stupid.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “We can’t go back, Satoru. What’s done is done.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the frustration in him, the helplessness. “I know,” he whispered. “But I hate that you went through all of that alone.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I wasn’t alone. Not really. Suguru was there, even if it wasn’t perfect. And now… now I have the kids. I have Kaori, and I have the twins. I’m not alone anymore.”

Gojo looked at you, his eyes filled with something close to admiration. “You’re stronger than I ever gave you credit for,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.”

You smiled, a soft, bittersweet smile, and for the first time in a long time, the weight of the past didn’t feel so heavy.

“I’m here now,” Gojo said quietly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, but this time, it was a good ache—na ache that came with the knowledge that, even though the past couldn’t be undone, you weren’t alone anymore.

You had Gojo. You had your children.

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Your fingers traced absentmindedly over your swollen belly, the movements of the twins a constant reminder of the future you now faced—a future without Suguru, but one that still carried the weight of his legacy. Your daughter was sleeping in the next room, unaware of the loss she would one day come to understand. And here you were, sitting in the quiet, pregnant and mourning, with the man who had once been the center of your world.

Gojo stood across from you, his eyes still filled with that raw vulnerability, the kind you had rarely seen from him. He had always been so strong, so sure of himself, but now, after everything, he looked almost fragile. You had both come so far, but the journey had left scars that neither of you could ignore.

A sad smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a soft, bitter laugh, breaking the silence. Gojo’s eyes flickered with confusion, but he didn’t speak, waiting for you to say what was weighing so heavily on your heart.

“I was your student,” you said quietly, the words feeling both distant and painfully close. “You were my most important teacher. And I loved you so much.”

Gojo’s expression tightened at your words, his eyes reflecting the deep regret that had been growing between you for so long. He opened his mouth to speak, but you held up a hand, stopping him. You weren’t finished.

“Look just how far we came,” you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You, me, and three fatherless children.”

The words hung in the air, stark and brutal. It was the truth, and neither of you could escape it. You had fallen in love with Suguru, built a life with him, and now, he was gone. You were left to raise his children alone, with Gojo—the man who had once been everything to you—standing in the shadows, unable to change the course of what had happened.

Gojo’s face twisted with something close to pain, his usually confident demeanor shattered by the reality of the situation. He took a step toward you, his voice soft but filled with anguish. “I… I didn’t know, back then. I didn’t know how much you cared.”

You shook your head, the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally breaking free. “But that’s the thing, Satoru,” you whispered. “You didn’t see me. I was right there, in front of you, and you didn’t see me.”

The bitterness in your voice was sharp, cutting through the air between you like a blade. Gojo flinched, his guilt palpable in the way he hung his head, unable to meet your gaze. He had always been the strongest, always untouchable, but in this moment, he looked like a man who had lost everything.

“I would change it,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “If I could go back in time, I would change everything. I would—” His voice cracked, the words failing him as the regret consumed him. “I would have done things differently.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You had once dreamed of hearing those words from him, back when your feelings for him had been raw and unspoken. But now, after everything that had happened, after Suguru, after the life you had built with him and lost, those words felt hollow.

You looked up at Gojo, your tears falling freely now, and you gave him a sad, weary smile. “Would you really go back?” you asked, your voice filled with sorrow. “Would you go back in time, knowing what we’ve lost? Knowing what’s been taken from me, from our children?”

Gojo’s eyes darkened, his breath catching in his throat. He didn’t answer right away, the weight of your question pressing down on him like a heavy burden. The man who had always seemed so sure of himself, so invincible, now looked utterly lost.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, broken honesty. “I don’t know if I could go back and fix it. I don’t know if I’d do it right.”

You nodded, your heart heavy. You had expected as much. Even if he could go back, even if he could undo the mistakes that had driven you away, nothing would erase the pain that had followed.

“You were everything to me,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the past. “But I was just another student to you, wasn’t I?”

“I’m sorry,” Gojo said, his voice cracking as he finally met your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret, with sorrow for everything that had happened between you. “I’m sorry for everything.”

The words hung between you, carrying with them all the weight of the years you had spent apart, the rejection, the loss, the pain. But they weren’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to erase what had happened.

Your fingers moved to rest on your belly, feeling the gentle movements of the twins. You thought of your daughter, still sleeping peacefully in the other room, and of the life you had tried to build with Suguru. The future had always been uncertain, but now, it felt more fragile than ever.

“I don’t know if there’s anything left for us to fix, Satoru,” you said softly, your voice laced with sadness. “Suguru’s gone. And now I’m raising our children alone.”

Gojo took a step closer, his eyes filled with a desperation you hadn’t seen before. “You’re not alone,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll be here. For you. For them. I owe you that much.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He was trying—trying to make amends, to be there for you in the only way he knew how. But the wounds between you ran deep, and even with his promises, you weren’t sure if they could ever truly heal.

“I don’t know what the future looks like,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I know it won’t be the one I thought I’d have.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his expression filled with a quiet sadness. “I know,” he said softly. “But whatever it is, I’ll be there.”

You nodded, though your heart still ached with the loss of everything you had hoped for, everything that had been taken from you. There was no going back. There was no fixing the past.

But maybe, just maybe, there was a way to move forward.

As you stood there, Gojo only a few steps away, the weight of your shared past finally began to lift, just a little. There was no going back. But there was still a future ahead—uncertain, fragile, and filled with the unknown.

The final weeks of your pregnancy passed in a strange, dreamlike blur. The weight of everything you had lost—Suguru, the life you had planned, the future you had imagined—was ever-present, but there was no time to wallow in grief. Life moved forward, even when you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

Your daughter was a constant source of light during those dark days. Her innocent laughter, her wide-eyed curiosity, the way she reached out for you whenever she needed comfort—it kept you grounded. It reminded you that, no matter how much pain you were carrying, you had something, someone, worth fighting for.

And then, there were the twins.

The pregnancy had been difficult, more so than with your daughter. Your body was tired, your mind stretched thin, and the emotional toll of losing Suguru had made everything feel heavier. Gojo had stayed with you, keeping his distance when needed but always there, hovering in the background like a ghost. You couldn’t quite figure out what his role in your life was now, but he had made a promise to protect you, to protect your children, and for the most part, he was keeping it.

But the day you had both been waiting for arrived sooner than expected.

It began in the quiet hours of early morning, with a sharp pain that tore through your body, ripping you from sleep. You clutched at your belly, the familiar, dreadful realization settling in: the twins were coming, and they weren’t waiting.

Panic surged through you as another contraction hit, stronger this time. You gripped the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through the pain, but it was too much. Too fast. You weren’t ready—how could you be ready for this?

“Gojo!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the intensity of the contraction. “Satoru!”

Moments later, Gojo appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide with alarm as he took in the sight of you doubled over, clutching your belly. For a moment, he was frozen, his usual composure shattered by the realization of what was happening.

“They’re coming,” you gasped, struggling to speak between breaths. “The twins… they’re coming now.”

Gojo’s expression shifted immediately, the alarm giving way to determination. He moved swiftly to your side, his hand resting on your shoulder as he tried to steady you. “Okay, okay. We’re going to get through this. I’ve got you.”

His voice was calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. This wasn’t his world—he wasn’t used to dealing with the chaos of childbirth—but he had been there for your daughter’s birth, even if only on the outskirts. He could handle this.

“Breathe,” he said softly, guiding you as best he could. “I need you to breathe.”

You tried, but another contraction hit, and the pain ripped through you like a fire. You cried out, gripping his hand tightly, your entire body trembling with the effort of holding on.

“I can’t—” you gasped, your voice breaking. “It’s too fast.”

Gojo’s eyes flickered with concern, but he didn’t let go of you. “You’re stronger than this,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a quiet, steady confidence. “You can do this.”

You had no choice. The twins were coming, and there was no stopping it now.

Gojo moved swiftly, helping you to your feet and guiding you toward the small area you had prepared for the birth. It wasn’t much—just a few blankets, soft pillows, and the necessary supplies—but it would have to do. You had been planning to wait, to let nature take its course, but the twins had decided otherwise.

The contractions came faster now, each one pulling you deeper into the reality of the moment. You were giving birth to Suguru’s children—his legacy—and the weight of that knowledge filled every breath you took.

But as the hours passed, the pain became all-encompassing. You weren’t sure how long you had been laboring—time had lost all meaning—but you could feel the pressure building, the twins pushing their way into the world, and your body wasn’t prepared for it.

You screamed, your grip on Gojo’s hand tightening as the first twin began to crown. He knelt beside you, his face set with determination, his hands steady as he prepared to help.

“You’re doing it,” Gojo said softly, his voice strained but filled with encouragement. “One more push, and the first baby will be here.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you bore down, giving it everything you had. The pain was unbearable, the pressure so intense that you thought you might break, but then—

The first twin was born.

Gojo held the tiny, crying baby in his hands, his eyes wide with something like awe as he looked down at the newborn. His hands were gentle, careful, as he wrapped the baby in a soft blanket, cleaning and cradling the child with na expertise you hadn’t expected from him.

“It’s a boy,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with wonder.

You let out a sob of relief, your entire body trembling with exhaustion. But it wasn’t over. The second twin was still coming, and your body wasn’t done yet.

“I can’t,” you gasped, your voice hoarse from the effort. “I can’t do this again.”

“Yes, you can,” Gojo said firmly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he handed the first twin to a waiting follower who had arrived to help. “You can do this.”

You looked at him, your vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, you believed him. Despite everything that had happened, despite the loss, the grief, the pain—you could do this.

With Gojo by your side, you could do this.

The second twin came quickly, faster than the first, but the pain was no less intense. You screamed again, your body trembling as you pushed, the pressure building once more.

And then, just like before, another cry filled the room.

A girl this time.

Gojo’s hands were steady as he wrapped the second baby in a blanket, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the tiny, wriggling form in his arms. He handed the baby to you this time, his eyes softening as he watched you hold her for the first time.

“A girl,” he said softly.

You cradled her against your chest, her tiny body warm and soft, her cries quieting as she settled into your arms. Tears streamed down your face as you looked at her—at both of them. Suguru’s children. Your children.

They were here.

You had done it.

For a long time, you simply held them, the weight of their small bodies grounding you in the moment. The grief, the pain, the loss—it was all still there, but for now, it was overshadowed by the overwhelming love you felt for these two new lives.

Gojo sat beside you, silent but present, his eyes filled with a quiet kind of sadness. He had promised to protect you, and in this moment, he had kept that promise. But there was still so much left unresolved, so much that lingered between you, unspoken and unfinished.

But for now, that could wait.

For now, it was just you, Gojo, and the twins—alive, healthy, and safe.

In the weeks that followed the birth of the twins, something shifted between you and Gojo. The tension that had once defined your interactions began to ease, replaced by a tentative understanding. He had kept his word—he stayed, helped, and supported you in ways you hadn’t expected. Slowly, you began to include him in your daily life, letting him into the parts of your world that had once felt too fragile to share.

It started with small things. At first, you had been hesitant to let Gojo get too involved in your routine with the children. After all, he wasn’t their father, and the idea of him stepping into that role had felt like a betrayal to Suguru’s memory. But over time, as you watched him carefully tend to your newborn twins and bond with your daughter, you realized that it wasn’t about replacing Suguru—it was about building something new.

You found yourself relying on Gojo more often. He would take care of the twins during the early mornings, letting you get the rest you so desperately needed. He played with your daughter, who had quickly grown fond of him, and his presence brought a lightness to the hideout that had been absent for so long.

One evening, as you sat in the kitchen nursing one of the twins, you glanced at Gojo, who was sitting on the floor with your daughter, helping her put together a simple puzzle. She giggled as he exaggerated his confusion over where the pieces went, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was strange—this new dynamic—but it felt good. It felt… normal, in a way that you hadn’t thought possible after everything that had happened.

Your daughter adored Gojo. She had been cautious at first, unsure of the strange man who had suddenly appeared in her life, but Gojo’s natural charm and playful nature had won her over. Now, she sought him out whenever he was around, tugging on his hand and babbling about whatever toddler nonsense was on her mind.

You found yourself watching them often, marveling at how easily Gojo had slipped into your children’s lives. He wasn’t their father, but he was something important to them now—someone they could rely on. Someone you could rely on.

One afternoon, as you rocked one of the twins to sleep, Gojo entered the room, carrying your daughter on his hip. She was giggling, her tiny hands clutching his shirt as he made silly faces at her. When he saw you, he gave you a soft smile, one that you had come to recognize as a sign of the growing comfort between you.

“She insists on helping me with everything,” he said, his voice filled with affection. “Though I’m not sure how much help she’s actually giving me.”

You chuckled softly, adjusting the blanket around your sleeping son. “She just wants to be part of it all. She’s always been curious.”

Gojo set your daughter down, and she immediately ran over to you, peeking at the sleeping baby in your arms with wide, curious eyes. “Baby?” she asked, her voice filled with innocent wonder.

“Yes,” you said softly, brushing a hand over her hair. “This is your brother. He’s sleeping now, though.”

She nodded solemnly, as if the importance of that information was too great to ignore. You smiled at her, your heart warming at the sight of her so enthralled with her siblings.

Gojo sat down across from you, watching the interaction with a fond expression. “She’s good with them,” he said quietly. “With the twins.”

You nodded. “She is. I think she likes being the big sister.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, broken only by the soft sounds of the twins’ breathing and the occasional giggle from your daughter as she played with a small toy in the corner. It was peaceful, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment. This wasn’t the life you had envisioned, but it was a life nonetheless. A life that, with Gojo’s presence, had begun to feel fuller.

As the days passed, you began to include Gojo more and more in your routine. You had learned to trust him in a way you hadn’t before—not just with the physical safety of your children, but with the emotional weight of their upbringing. He was patient, kind, and he had a way of making things easier, even when they felt overwhelming.

He began taking on more responsibilities, almost without you asking. He would feed the twins in the early morning hours, letting you sleep for a little longer. He’d play with your daughter, teaching her new games and making her laugh in ways that filled the hideout with a warmth you hadn’t felt in so long.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting outside the hideout, the twins resting in a small crib beside you as Gojo played with your daughter nearby. The sun was warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt at peace. The pain of losing Suguru was still there—it always would be—but it no longer felt like a crushing weight. You had found a new rhythm, a new life, and it was enough.

Gojo glanced over at you, his eyes catching yours as he lifted your daughter into the air, making her giggle with delight. He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart ache with something you couldn’t quite name. There was still so much unresolved between you—so much that had been left unsaid—but for now, this was enough.

That evening, after the twins had been put to bed and your daughter was fast asleep, you found yourself sitting with Gojo in the quiet of the kitchen. The air between you was no longer tense, no longer filled with the unspoken weight of the past. You had both settled into this new routine, and while it wasn’t perfect, it was… good.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “You know,” he said quietly, “I never thought I’d be part of something like this. A family, I mean.”

You looked at him, your heart catching in your throat at the vulnerability in his voice. “Neither did I,” you admitted, your voice just as soft. “But here we are.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he spoke again. “I just want you to know… I’m here. For you. For them. Whatever you need.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Gojo wasn’t Suguru—he never could be—but in his own way, he had become a part of your life, of your children’s lives. And for that, you were grateful.

“I know,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “And thank you. For everything.”

Gojo smiled, a small, sad smile that held the weight of everything that had happened between you, but also the promise of something new. Something better.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that, despite everything, there could be a future for you and your children. A future with Gojo in it, in whatever way that made sense.

And for now, that was enough.

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Your mind raced, but your body moved on autopilot. The only thing keeping you grounded was the rhythmic pulse of your twins kicking inside you. Your body was aching, both from the strain of your pregnancy and the emotional toll of watching Suguru die, but there was no time to break down. You needed to get back to the hideout, back to your daughter, who was blissfully unaware of the storm that had ravaged your world.

Gojo walked beside you in silence. The tension between you was palpable, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You didn’t want to speak, and it seemed like he was giving you the space you needed. But you both knew that the confrontation you had avoided for so long was looming over you. There were things that needed to be said, things that had been buried beneath layers of resentment and regret for far too long.

The hideout came into view, hidden deep within the forest, shrouded in na almost unnatural quiet. It had once felt like a sanctuary, a place where you and Geto had begun to build a new life, far from the prying eyes of Jujutsu High. But now, it felt hollow, like an echo of a future that would never be.

When you reached the entrance, Gojo hesitated, his hand resting on the door as if unsure whether to proceed. You glanced at him, seeing the conflict in his expression. This wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about your daughter. Suguru’s daughter.

Without a word, Gojo pushed open the door, and the two of you stepped inside. The familiar scent of the hideout greeted you—wood, damp earth, and a faint hint of the herbs you used to calm your nerves. It was quiet, almost too quiet, and for a moment, you feared something had gone wrong.

But then you heard the soft sound of your daughter’s voice, babbling innocently from the nursery.

The tension in your chest eased slightly, though the weight of the situation still pressed down on you like a vice. You turned to Gojo, his gaze unreadable as he stood at the threshold, seemingly frozen in place.

“I’ll go to her,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Stay here.”

Gojo gave a curt nod, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. You stepped away, leaving him behind as you made your way to the nursery.

When you reached the door, you paused, taking a moment to steady yourself. Your daughter was there, playing on the floor with one of the soft toys Geto had brought her. She looked up as soon as she saw you, her face breaking into a bright smile.

“Mama!” she chirped, her voice full of joy.

Your heart cracked at the sound. You knelt down, pulling her into your arms, holding her close as tears began to spill from your eyes. She didn’t know. She didn’t understand what had just happened, how her world had changed forever.

“Mama’s here,” you whispered, pressing your cheek to the top of her head. “I’m here.”

For a long time, you simply held her, the warmth of her small body against yours the only thing keeping you grounded. But even as you clung to her, you knew that this moment of peace was fleeting. The reality of what had happened, of what you had to face, was looming just beyond the door.

You heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you, and you turned to see Gojo standing in the doorway. He looked at you, then at your daughter, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite name. Pain, maybe. Regret.

Gojo’s expression softened for a brief moment, but then his gaze darkened again, the weight of what he had come here for pressing down on him. You stood, holding your daughter in your arms as you faced him.

“This is her?” Gojo asked quietly, though the answer was already clear.

You nodded, unable to speak. Your daughter looked at Gojo with wide, curious eyes, sensing that something was different about him but not yet understanding what. There was na eerie silence in the air as Gojo took a tentative step closer, his eyes scanning her face as though searching for traces of Suguru in her features.

“She’s… his,” Gojo said, his voice tight with something you couldn’t quite place. “Suguru’s.”

“Yes,” you whispered, your throat tight. “She’s ours.”

Gojo exhaled softly, the tension in his body visible as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how to prepare for this.”

You understood what he meant. This wasn’t just about the death of Geto. It wasn’t just about the child you had with him. It was about everything that had led up to this moment—the rejection, the choices you had made, and the things that had been left unsaid between you and Gojo for so long.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t plan on… on falling in love with him.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting back to you, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. “Then why?” he asked, his voice trembling with frustration and something close to hurt. “Why did you leave? Why him?”

You took a deep breath, knowing that this conversation was inevitable but dreading it all the same. “Because you made me feel invisible,” you said softly, the words finally spilling out after so long. “I confessed to you, Satoru. I tried to tell you how I felt, and you pushed me away.”

Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, the realization settling in. He had known, on some level, that his rejection had hurt you, but he hadn’t understood the full extent of it.

“You didn’t even look at me,” you continued, your voice breaking as the weight of those old wounds resurfaced. “I was nothing to you. And Suguru… he saw me. He made me feel like I mattered.”

Gojo flinched at the words, his usual confidence shattered in the face of the truth. He stood there, silent, as the gravity of his actions sank in. The space between you felt impossibly wide, the rift that had grown between you over the years now laid bare.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Gojo said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “I didn’t know… I didn’t understand what you needed. I thought pushing you away was protecting you.”

You shook your head, tears welling up again. “But it wasn’t. It drove me to him. And now, he’s gone, and I don’t know what to do.”

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability. “I know I can’t fix this. I know I can’t bring him back. But I can help you now.”

There was a long silence between you as you looked at him, trying to process everything. Gojo had always been the strongest, the most untouchable person in your life, but now, here he was, standing before you with his own regrets, his own pain laid bare.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Gojo said softly. “But I want to help. I owe you that much. And I owe it to her.” He glanced down at your daughter, his gaze softening as he looked at her again. “She’s part of this too.”

You hesitated, your heart torn between the past and the uncertain future that lay ahead. There was so much pain, so much loss, but there was also the undeniable reality that Gojo was offering you something—a way forward.

“We’ll need to talk,” you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. “About everything. The future. The children.”

Gojo nodded, his expression resolute. “We will. But for now, let me help you.”

And for the first time in a long while, you nodded, accepting the hand that had once pushed you away.

It was the beginning of something new—uncertain, fragile, but real.

The next few days passed in a haze. The weight of Suguru Geto’s death still lingered in the air, thick and oppressive, but there was no time to mourn the way you truly wanted to. Your daughter needed you. Your unborn twins needed you. And now, in the most unexpected twist of fate, Gojo was part of your life again.

You sat in the nursery, the soft sounds of your daughter playing beside you filling the otherwise quiet room. She had settled back into her routine, unaware of the storm that had raged beyond the walls of the hideout, unaware of the loss of her father.

And unaware of the tension that still hung between you and Gojo.

You had let him stay at the hideout. There hadn’t been much of a choice, really. With Geto gone, and the threat of Jujutsu High and other factions looming larger than ever, you needed Gojo’s protection. He had assured you that he would help, that he would be there for you and the children, but you couldn’t help but feel the unresolved weight of your past with him pressing down on every interaction.

Gojo had mostly kept to himself, giving you space. He wasn’t the same brash, overly confident man you had known before. There was a quietness to him now, a somberness that hadn’t been there before. You could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at you, at your daughter—he was carrying his own guilt, his own grief. The loss of Geto had affected him deeply, more deeply than you had ever expected.

But there was still so much left unsaid between you.

That evening, as the sun set and the warm light filtered through the windows of the hideout, you sat alone in the kitchen, your hands resting on your swollen belly. The twins were restless tonight, their movements constant, as though they could sense the unease in you.

You weren’t surprised when you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Gojo had a way of moving almost silently when he wanted to, but you had learned to sense his presence.

He appeared in the doorway, his usual confident posture subdued, his eyes carrying a weight you rarely saw. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the counter, watching you.

“You’re thinking,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You nodded, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in your voice. “I’m always thinking now. There’s too much to process.”

Gojo remained quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to your belly. You knew what he was thinking. You knew the questions that lingered in his mind. But he didn’t ask. Not yet.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up at him, your heart heavy with the unspoken words that had been building between you since the moment you returned to the hideout. There was no point in avoiding it anymore. You needed to have this conversation. You needed to clear the air.

“I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

Gojo’s expression softened, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the boy he had once been—the boy who had been your friend, the boy you had once trusted before everything fell apart. “Start wherever you need to,” he said gently.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you prepared to finally face the past. “I loved him,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I loved Suguru, and he loved me. I didn’t expect it to happen, but it did.”

Gojo nodded, his gaze steady but filled with something that resembled quiet acceptance. “I know,” he said. “I could see it, even before I came here.”

You bit your lip, the old wound of your feelings for Gojo—the rejection that had driven you to Geto—still fresh, still painful. “I didn’t leave Jujutsu High because I didn’t care about you, Satoru,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I left because you made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Gojo flinched, his hand tightening into a fist at his side. “I never meant to hurt you like that,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought that by keeping my distance, I was keeping you safe.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You weren’t protecting me. You were pushing me away.”

The words hung between you, heavy with the weight of years of misunderstandings and unspoken feelings. You had never fully confronted him about the rejection, never told him how deeply it had hurt you, but now, with Geto gone, the wound had been ripped open again.

“I know I messed up,” Gojo said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have seen you. I should have… done something. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that now.”

You looked away, your emotions swirling inside you. “Suguru was there for me when you weren’t,” you said softly. “He made me feel like I mattered. Like I was important. And we built a life together, despite everything.”

Gojo’s shoulders slumped, his usual confidence replaced with a raw vulnerability that you had rarely seen. “I can’t take back what I did,” he said. “But I want to help now. I want to make sure you and your children are safe.”

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. “It’s not just about being safe, Satoru,” you whispered. “It’s about the fact that I loved him. He was going to be my future. And now… now he’s gone.”

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own. “I know I can’t replace him,” he said quietly. “And I’m not trying to. But I do want to help you build whatever future you want, with your children.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. There was no fixing what had happened, no going back to undo the pain and loss. But there was a path forward, however fragile and uncertain it might be.

Finally, you met Gojo’s gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes matching your own. “I don’t know what the future looks like now,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But I want my children to be safe. I want them to have a chance to grow up without fear.”

Gojo nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll protect them,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect all of you.”

You nodded, accepting his words. There was still so much unresolved between you, so much that couldn’t be fixed overnight. But for now, you would take this step forward, however uncertain it might be.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But thank you.”

Gojo didn’t say anything else. He just stood there, offering you a small, sad smile, as the weight of your shared past finally began to lift, just a little. There was still a long road ahead—one filled with pain, with uncertainty, but also, perhaps, with hope.

For your daughter, for your unborn twins, and for whatever future lay ahead.

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In the weeks that followed, Geto moved you to a new hideout, far from the remnants of the old one, in a remote, forested area where sunlight filtered through the trees and cast dappled shadows on the ground. The new location was much more peaceful, almost serene compared to the darkness of the old hideout. It was secluded, quiet, and perfect for the family you were building together.

The months slipped by in a blur of change and growth. You gave birth to a beautiful baby—a daughter who was the very image of both you and Geto. She was the light of your life, her presence filling the hideout with an energy you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Geto had been overjoyed when she was born, his pride and love for her—and for you—radiating from him in everything he did. He had been there for every moment, caring for you both with a tenderness you hadn’t expected but had come to treasure.

But now, only a few months after her birth, you were pregnant once more.

This time, it was different. The signs had been clear early on, and when you had finally confirmed it, the realization had hit you like a wave. Twins. You were carrying twins this time, and though the prospect filled you with excitement, it also brought with it a new layer of worry. You had barely adjusted to life as a mother to one, and now you were about to bring two more children into the world.

Geto had been thrilled when you told him, his eyes lighting up with a rare kind of joy that softened the sharpness of his usual demeanor. “Twins,” he had said, his hand resting gently on your growing belly. “We’re building an empire.”

The words had sent a thrill through you, the idea of raising these children together, of building a family in the midst of the chaos of the sorcerer world, giving you a sense of purpose that you hadn’t known you needed. And yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t ignore the growing danger. You knew that Gojo and Jujutsu High were still out there, that they hadn’t forgotten about you or Geto’s plans. But for now, you were safe—at least as safe as you could be in the world you had chosen.

The new hideout was much brighter than the last. Geto had gone to great lengths to make sure you and your children had a comfortable space, one that felt more like a home than the hideouts of the past. The nursery, once again, was your favorite room—a large, sunlit space filled with soft colors and warm light. It had become your haven, where you spent most of your days, preparing for the arrival of the twins while caring for your daughter.

You were sitting in the rocking chair, your belly round and heavy with the weight of the twins, as your daughter played quietly on the floor nearby. She had her father’s eyes, dark and watchful, and though she was still so young, there was a certain calmness about her that reminded you so much of Geto. It was comforting, knowing that she had inherited his strength, his quiet confidence.

Geto had been gone for a few days on another mission, but he had promised to return soon. The time apart was always difficult, but you knew that these missions were necessary for his plans, for the future he was building. Still, you missed him—missed the quiet moments you shared together, the way he looked at you with that soft intensity that made you feel like the most important person in his world.

As you rocked gently in the chair, your daughter babbling softly to herself as she played, you placed a hand on your belly, feeling the soft movements of the twins inside. It was a strange feeling, carrying two lives within you at once. They shifted and kicked, reminding you constantly of the future that was coming—one that was full of uncertainty but also full of promise.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the room when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. You smiled to yourself, knowing that it could only be one person.

Geto stepped into the room, his presence immediately filling the space with a sense of calm and security. His dark eyes softened when he saw you, his gaze lingering on your swollen belly before moving to your daughter, who looked up at him with a bright smile.

“There’s my little troublemaker,” Geto said softly, crouching down to scoop her up into his arms. She giggled, her tiny hands grabbing onto his shirt as she pressed her face against his chest.

He straightened up, holding her easily in one arm as he turned his attention to you. “And how are you?” His voice was gentle, his eyes filled with concern as he glanced at your belly.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, smiling up at him as he approached. “The twins are restless, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Geto chuckled, a rare sound that warmed your heart. “They’ll be here soon enough,” he said, his free hand reaching out to rest on your belly. His touch was warm, grounding, and you leaned into it, feeling the connection between the three of you—soon to be five.

“Soon,” you echoed softly, your eyes meeting his. “Are you ready for it? Three children in this world?”

Geto’s expression softened, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he looked down at your belly. “I’m ready,” he said quietly. “This is what we’re building, isn’t it? A family. A future.”

His words sent a surge of warmth through you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a deep sense of peace. The world outside might be full of danger and uncertainty, but in this moment, in this room, with Geto and your daughter by your side, you felt safe.

And as you looked into Geto’s eyes, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. You had chosen this path, and with Geto by your side, you would see it through.

The twins shifted inside you, their movements soft and reassuring, and you smiled, knowing that soon, your family would grow even more.

This was the life you had chosen—a life filled with love, with purpose, and with a future you were determined to build.

No matter what came next, you were ready.

The battle for Jujutsu High had been inevitable. You had known for months that it was coming, looming over you like a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. Geto had grown more determined, more driven, in the time since your twins had begun to grow inside you. He was relentless in his pursuit of a new world, one where jujutsu sorcerers ruled with power and clarity, without the burdens of the weak dragging them down.

You had supported him, believed in him, even as your belly grew heavy with the weight of the twins. But there had always been a sense of dread lurking at the back of your mind—a fear that, despite all of his strength, despite his conviction, the day would come when the world would come crashing down around him. Around you.

That day had come.

Geto had set his sights on Yuta Okkotsu, a first-year student at Jujutsu High who possessed a terrifying cursed energy bound to the spirit of Rika Orimoto. Yuta’s power, untrained and unstable, was something Geto believed he could harness—a final piece in his plan to bring down Jujutsu High and reshape the world.

Your daughter was safe in the new hideout, under the watchful eyes of trusted followers, but despite your protests, Geto had insisted that you accompany him. “You’re part of this future too,” he had said, his eyes filled with a dark determination. “I want you by my side when we finally break free.”

And so, at seven months pregnant, you had found yourself on the battlefield, standing in the shadows as Geto led his army of cursed spirits into the heart of Jujutsu High. The battle was chaotic, filled with the crackle of cursed energy, the roars of curses clashing, and the cries of sorcerers fighting for their lives.

At first, it had seemed as though Geto was winning. His army of cursed spirits overwhelmed the defenses of Jujutsu High, pushing deeper and deeper into the school’s grounds. But as the battle raged on, something shifted. Yuta Okkotsu, that boy who had once been so unsure of himself, began to tap into the full power of Rika. The cursed energy that had once seemed chaotic and uncontrollable now surged through him with terrifying precision.

You watched from a distance, your heart pounding in your chest as the tide of the battle turned. Yuta’s strength was growing, and even from where you stood, you could feel the pressure of his cursed energy. And then, in the midst of it all, another familiar presence appeared on the battlefield.

Satoru Gojo.

His appearance was like a bolt of lightning cutting through the chaos, his cursed energy overwhelming everything around him. He moved with effortless grace, cutting through curses and enemies alike, his eyes—piercing blue, unhidden by his blindfold—focused on one person.

Geto.

Your heart clenched as you saw the two of them meet in the center of the battlefield, their cursed energies colliding in a way that shook the very ground beneath them. This was it.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to still. Gojo and Geto stood facing each other, their expressions unreadable, but the weight of their shared history hung between them like a thick fog.

You could only watch as the two men—once friends, now enemies—began to fight.

It was brutal. The clash of their cursed energy was so intense that the air seemed to crackle with power. Every blow, every strike, sent shockwaves through the battlefield, curses and sorcerers alike pushed back by the sheer force of it. You could barely breathe as you watched, your hands instinctively moving to rest on your swollen belly, as if to shield your unborn children from the violence unfolding before you.

But as strong as Geto was, as determined as he had been, there was no denying the truth: Gojo was stronger.

Slowly, but surely, Gojo began to overpower him. Geto fought with everything he had, summoning curses, using his immense skill in manipulating cursed energy, but it wasn’t enough. Gojo’s strength, his precision, was too much.

And then, it happened.

Gojo’s hand moved faster than you could follow, a burst of cursed energy surging from him, striking Geto with devastating force. Time seemed to slow as the impact hit, and for a moment, everything was silent. The world seemed to stop.

Geto staggered back, blood spilling from his wounds, his body shaking as he struggled to stay upright. But it was clear—he had lost.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, the air ripped from your lungs as you watched Geto fall to his knees, his strength finally giving out. Gojo stood over him, his face unreadable, his hand raised as if preparing to deliver the final blow.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. You tried to move, tried to run to Geto’s side, but your body was heavy, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you down. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched the man you had loved, the father of your children, lying defeated before Gojo.

Geto looked up at Gojo, his face pale, but there was a strange calmness in his eyes. He didn’t look afraid. In fact, he almost seemed… relieved.

“You’ve won, Satoru,” Geto said, his voice weak but steady. “But I still believe… in what I’ve done. In what I’ve built.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, no sense of victory. Just a deep, unspoken sadness. “Suguru,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos around them. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

Geto chuckled softly, his breath ragged as he looked up at Gojo one last time. “Maybe not,” he murmured. “But this was the path I chose.”

For a long moment, Gojo didn’t move. He stood there, his hand still raised, his gaze locked onto Geto. You held your breath, praying that somehow, someway, this wouldn’t end the way you feared.

But then, with a single, swift movement, Gojo brought his hand down.

Geto crumpled to the ground, the last of his strength finally leaving him. His body lay still, lifeless, the man who had once been so strong, so full of conviction, now nothing more than a shell.

You fell to your knees, the weight of the moment crashing down on you like a storm. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your belly, your heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Geto was gone. The man you had loved, the father of your children, was gone.

And Gojo… Gojo just stood there, his eyes filled with a grief that mirrored your own.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The battle had ended, but the war was far from over.

With Geto’s death, everything had changed.

The world blurred around you. The battlefield was silent now, the remnants of cursed energy still thick in the air. But none of that mattered. Your eyes were locked on the still form of Suguru Geto, lying crumpled on the ground like a broken doll.

He was gone.

A scream tore from your throat, primal and filled with a grief so deep that it felt like your soul was being ripped apart. You tried to stand, to run to his side, but your legs refused to cooperate. The weight of your seven-month pregnancy made every movement sluggish, and the overwhelming despair crashing over you made it impossible to breathe. Tears blurred your vision as your sobs echoed through the stillness.

“Suguru…”

You could barely choke out his name. The realization hit you again and again, like waves pulling you under, and there was no escape. The twins inside you kicked, their tiny movements a cruel reminder that life continued, even in the face of such loss.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you.

His cursed energy was unmistakable, overwhelming in its intensity, but something in the air had changed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not now, not after what he had done. But you could feel him standing there, staring down at Geto’s body, his own emotions swirling just as violently as yours.

You didn’t need to see his face to know what he was feeling. You had seen it before, years ago, when the friendship between Geto and Gojo had first fractured. The regret. The pain. The weight of a lost bond that neither of them had ever fully reconciled. And now, with Geto lying dead at Gojo’s feet, that grief hung thick in the air.

“Suguru…” Gojo’s voice was barely a whisper, cracking with na emotion that was rare for him. It was filled with something raw, something you had never heard from him before. “Why did it have to end like this?”

You could hear the pain in his voice, the quiet devastation he tried to hide. But your heart was too shattered to care. You didn’t care about his regrets or the pain in his voice. None of it mattered anymore. Geto was gone, and nothing could bring him back.

“You killed him,” you spat, your voice thick with sobs. “You killed him, Gojo!”

Gojo flinched at the accusation, but he didn’t respond. His eyes, still trained on Geto’s body, were filled with something indescribable—a mix of guilt, sorrow, and the weight of na impossible choice. You could see the war inside him, the conflict of someone who had done what he thought was necessary but hated himself for it all the same.

You tried to push yourself up, but the weight of your grief and the physical strain of your pregnancy made it impossible. Every movement felt like trying to swim through mud, your body too heavy with the burden of loss and the life you carried.

Gojo took a step toward you, his hand reaching out as if to help, but you recoiled from him, your entire body trembling with anger and pain. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your voice venomous. “You’ve taken everything from me.”

Gojo’s hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back, his eyes filled with na overwhelming sense of helplessness. “I didn’t—” he started, his voice faltering, but he didn’t finish the sentence. What could he say? There were no words that could undo what had been done.

The silence stretched between you, thick and oppressive. The battle had ended, but the war inside your heart had only just begun. You clutched your belly, feeling the soft kicks of your unborn twins, a reminder that even in this moment of loss, life persisted. But the thought of raising your children without Geto, without the man who had promised to build a future with you, made the grief that much more unbearable.

Your daughter. She was back at the hideout, safe and unaware of the horror that had unfolded here. But how could you explain this to her? How could you tell her that her father was never coming home?

The thought sent another wave of despair crashing over you, and you doubled over, sobbing uncontrollably.

Gojo knelt down beside you, but he kept his distance, not daring to reach out again. His voice was soft, filled with a quiet urgency. “You have to leave, now. It’s not safe for you here.”

You barely heard him. The world around you was spinning, collapsing in on itself. All you could think about was Geto, lying so still, so far from the man who had once been so strong, so full of life.

But Gojo didn’t give up. He leaned closer, his voice firm this time, though still tinged with that uncharacteristic vulnerability. “You can’t stay here. If they find you—if they find the kids…”

The mention of your children snapped something inside you back into place. Despite everything, despite the crushing weight of your grief, you knew he was right. Your twins, your daughter—they were still here, still alive. You had to protect them. You had to survive, even if it felt impossible.

With great effort, you forced yourself to breathe, to focus. The reality of the situation was inescapable. Geto was gone, and staying here would only put you and your children in more danger. You couldn’t let his death be in vain. You couldn’t let your children suffer because of it.

You nodded weakly, not trusting your voice to speak. Gojo watched you carefully, his expression unreadable but filled with something close to relief. He stood and offered you his hand again, more hesitant this time, as though he expected you to reject him once more.

This time, you didn’t.

With trembling fingers, you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The weight of your pregnancy made you unsteady, but Gojo’s hand remained firm, steadying you as you rose. He glanced at your belly, his jaw tightening for a moment before his eyes met yours again.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he said quietly, his voice resolute. “You and the kids. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You wanted to hate him, to push him away, to blame him for everything. But right now, you had no choice. You needed to survive. For your children, if nothing else.

As Gojo led you away from the battlefield, away from the body of the man you loved, you cast one final glance over your shoulder. Geto lay motionless on the ground, the man who had promised you a future, the man who had fought so hard to change the world.

But that future was gone now, shattered like the life you had built together.

All that remained was the uncertain path ahead.

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Now, at nine months pregnant, your body felt heavy and slow as you moved through the nursery Geto had so thoughtfully prepared. The soft rays of the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on the few simple but cherished pieces of furniture you had collected. A small bassinet sat in the corner, draped with delicate, pale curtains, and there was a rocking chair by the window where you often sat, hands resting on your swollen belly, dreaming of the future you and Geto would build for your child.

He had left days ago, leading his most trusted followers on na important mission abroad. It was a rare opportunity to further his cause, and although he hated leaving you behind, especially in your condition, he had been firm that you should stay safe. “The baby needs you,” he had said softly, placing a hand over your stomach. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so, you waited. The hideout felt more empty without him, more cold and desolate than ever. The dark halls seemed to stretch endlessly in his absence, and despite the warmth of the nursery, you couldn’t shake the sense of unease that crept in whenever you were alone. You had tried to ignore it, tried to focus on nesting and preparing for the baby, but something inside you felt off—like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.

You rubbed your belly absentmindedly, feeling the baby shift inside you as you placed a folded blanket into the bassinet. The gentle weight of impending motherhood settled over you, both comforting and terrifying. In just a few days—perhaps even hours—your world would change forever. You would bring a new life into the world, a child that would be part of the future Geto dreamed of. The thought both thrilled and frightened you.

But even in your joy, something lingered in the back of your mind. A whisper of a fear you couldn’t quite banish, one that grew louder in the moments when the hideout was too quiet, too still.

And then, the door creaked open.

You turned slowly, heart racing, expecting one of Geto’s followers, someone bringing you news of the mission. But when your eyes landed on the figure standing in the doorway, your breath caught in your throat, your entire body freezing in shock.

He stood there, tall and imposing, his usual playful demeanor absent, replaced by something darker, something more focused. His piercing blue eyes, no longer hidden by the blindfold, locked onto you, and in that moment, the nursery seemed to shrink, the walls closing in around you.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sudden pounding of your heart.

Gojo took a step forward, his gaze flicking briefly to your swollen belly, the weight of his stare settling over you like a physical pressure. He didn’t say anything at first, but the tension in the air was palpable, thick and suffocating. His presence was overwhelming, and you could feel the unspoken words hanging between you like a blade ready to drop.

The sunlight that had felt so warm and comforting moments ago now felt cold, casting long shadows across the room as Gojo moved closer. His eyes were hard, his expression unreadable, but beneath the surface, you could sense something simmering—anger, confusion, hurt.

“You’re pregnant,” he said finally, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

You swallowed hard, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. “Yes,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “I’m having Geto’s child.”

The words felt heavy on your tongue, and as you spoke them aloud, you could see the way they hit Gojo, his posture stiffening, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply staring at you, the silence stretching on like a wound that refused to heal.

“How could you?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief, but there was something else there too—something that felt like betrayal.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “But this is where I belong now.”

Gojo shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Belong? Here? With him?” He took another step forward, his presence looming over you. “You don’t belong here. You’re carrying his child, and you think that’s where you belong?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You left me with no choice, Satoru,” you said, your voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “You rejected me, you made it clear I wasn’t part of your world. Geto gave me something you never could.”

Gojo’s eyes flashed with something—regret, perhaps, or maybe anger—but whatever it was, it was buried quickly beneath the cool mask he wore. “And now you’re just… what? A pawn in his game? A tool to help him build whatever twisted future he has planned?”

You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over as you spoke. “It’s not like that. He cares about me. About our child. He’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You think this is what you want? To raise his child in the darkness of a hideout while he tears apart the world? Do you even understand what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

You stood up straighter, even though your body ached under the weight of the pregnancy, even though the fear of Gojo’s presence made your heart pound. “I understand enough, Satoru. Geto has a vision, and I’m part of that now. This child will be part of that.”

Gojo’s expression softened for just a moment, a flicker of something more vulnerable crossing his face. “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his voice no longer filled with anger but something closer to pleading. “You don’t have to be with him. You don’t have to be part of this.”

You shook your head, your heart breaking as you realized how deeply the divide between the two of you had grown. “It’s too late for that, Satoru. I’ve made my choice.”

For a long moment, Gojo said nothing, the silence between you heavy and painful. He glanced around the nursery, his eyes lingering on the small bassinet, the rocking chair, the preparations you had made for your child’s arrival. There was something almost broken in his expression as he took it all in, as if he was realizing just how much had changed, how far apart the two of you had grown.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, stepping back toward the door. “Geto will use you,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. “Just like he uses everyone else.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone once again in the nursery, the room now feeling colder, darker, and emptier than it ever had before.

You stood there for a long moment, the weight of Gojo’s words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. But as you rested a hand on your belly, feeling the faint movements of the life growing inside you, you knew you had made your choice.

No matter what Gojo believed, this was your path now. You had chosen Geto, and you would see it through.

For the sake of your child.

The day your child was born felt surreal, as though the world outside the walls of the hideout had disappeared, leaving only you, your child, and the intensity of the moment.

You had been alone in the nursery when the first wave of contractions hit, the sharp pain taking you by surprise and doubling you over. You’d felt the discomfort for days, but now, it was clear that your baby was ready. Panic surged through you as you realized Geto wasn’t back yet. He had assured you he would return in time, but now that moment had come, and you were alone.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you gripped the rocking chair for support, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You had prepared for this, you had known it would happen soon, but no amount of preparation could truly brace you for the overwhelming reality of childbirth.

One of Geto’s followers rushed into the room, sensing your distress. She had some basic knowledge of midwifery, enough to guide you through the initial stages of labor. But you needed more than guidance—you needed Geto. You clung to the thought of him, picturing his face, the steady strength in his gaze, the calm confidence he always exuded. You needed that now, more than ever.

Hours passed in a blur of pain and effort. The contractions grew stronger, each one feeling like it would tear you apart, but you held on. You held on for your child, for the future you and Geto had envisioned. The follower stayed by your side, her presence a small comfort in the chaos, but you felt the absence of Geto like a physical ache.

The room was dim, the sunlight long gone, leaving only the faint flicker of a candle on the windowsill to light the space. The once peaceful nursery, which had felt like a sanctuary, was now filled with the sounds of your strained breaths and the low hum of the cursed energy that pulsed faintly in the walls.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, the moment came.

A cry. Sharp and clear, cutting through the silence.

Your body went limp with relief as the follower gently placed the tiny, squirming baby into your arms. The weight of your child, the warmth of their small body against your chest, overwhelmed you with a tidal wave of emotions—love, exhaustion, fear, and a fierce protectiveness you had never known you were capable of.

You looked down at the baby, your baby, and for the first time, you saw them. A tiny, wriggling being, their face scrunched up in a wail, their fists clenched as they protested their abrupt entrance into the world. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently cradled them, your heart swelling with a love so powerful it felt like it might consume you.

“It’s a girl,” the follower said softly, her voice full of reverence. “She’s perfect.”

You stared down at your daughter, your fingers trembling as you gently touched her tiny cheek. She was perfect. Everything you had endured, everything you had sacrificed—it had all been for this moment. For her.

But there was still something missing. Someone.

The follower must have seen the longing in your eyes because she smiled softly. “He’ll be back soon. He’ll be here for you both.”

You nodded, though the worry gnawed at you. Where was Geto? You had thought of him every moment through the labor, desperately wishing he could be there for the birth of his child. He had promised to return before this moment, but he hadn’t.

Hours passed, and you drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, the exhaustion of childbirth pulling you under, only to be jolted awake by the soft whimpers of your daughter. Each time, you held her close, feeling the rise and fall of her tiny chest against yours, her presence a balm for the anxiety that kept creeping back.

Finally, just before dawn, the sound of the door creaking open roused you fully from sleep. You blinked groggily, your body aching and sore, but the sight of Geto standing in the doorway chased away all your pain and fear in an instant.

He was covered in the grime of battle, his dark robes streaked with dirt and dried blood, but his eyes—those deep, intense eyes—were filled with something you had never seen before: awe.

Geto crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, his usually calm and collected demeanor cracking as he dropped to his knees beside the bed. His hands, shaking for the first time since you had known him, reached out to touch the small bundle in your arms.

“She’s here,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion. “Our daughter.”

Geto’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as he gazed down at the tiny face peeking out from the blanket. His hand gently brushed against her cheek, and for a moment, he was utterly still, as if the gravity of the moment had rendered him speechless.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper. “She’s beautiful.”

You smiled, tears welling up in your eyes again. “She’s perfect.”

For a long moment, the three of you stayed like that—Geto kneeling beside you, his hand resting on your daughter, the weight of everything unspoken passing between you. This was what you had fought for, what you had endured for. This was your family.

Geto’s eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of love and pride. “You did it,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You brought her into this world.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you said, your voice trembling with exhaustion and relief.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before resting his head against yours. “I’ll always be here,” he whispered. “For you, for her. Always.”

As you held your daughter in your arms, with Geto by your side, the world outside the walls of the hideout felt far away. It was just the three of you now—your new family, your new future.

No matter what awaited beyond this moment, you knew that you had made the right choice. This was where you belonged.

The days after your daughter’s birth passed in a strange, dreamlike blur. The hideout, which had always been dark and oppressive, felt different now. The shadows seemed softer, the heavy atmosphere lightened by the presence of your newborn. She had brought a new energy into the space, a fragile peace that seemed to exist solely within the nursery walls.

Geto spent as much time with you and your daughter as his duties allowed. His missions and plans still called him away frequently, but whenever he returned, his first stop was always the nursery. You’d find him standing by the crib, watching over your daughter with na expression that was both tender and fierce—protective, proud. He would hold her in his arms, his usually stoic face softening as she cooed or wriggled against his chest.

The way he looked at her, the way he looked at you, made your heart swell with na emotion you couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t just love, though that was certainly there. It was deeper, more intense—a shared purpose that bound the three of you together. This was the future you and Geto had chosen. This was the family you had dreamed of building.

But outside the safety of the nursery, the world was still a dangerous place. The tension between Geto’s faction and Jujutsu High was growing, and every day seemed to bring new rumors of conflict. You tried not to let it affect you, tried to focus on your daughter and the quiet moments you shared with her, but it was impossible to ignore the looming threat.

One afternoon, as you sat in the rocking chair by the window, your daughter cradled in your arms, Geto entered the room. He had just returned from a mission—his robes still dusty from travel—but he didn’t come in with the usual quiet calm that had become his hallmark. There was a tension in his posture, a heaviness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked up, concern flickering across your face. “What is it?”

Geto’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at you and your daughter, but the worry in his expression didn’t disappear. He came to sit beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “We need to talk.”

The seriousness in his voice sent a chill down your spine. You shifted your daughter in your arms, your heart starting to race as you waited for him to continue.

“There’s been… movement from Jujutsu High,” Geto said, his tone low and measured. “They’re becoming more aggressive in their attempts to undermine us. I’ve heard from our sources that Gojo’s been pushing for a direct confrontation.”

Gojo. The name sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you—memories of your old life, of the way things had been before you had chosen this path with Geto. You hadn’t seen Gojo since the day he had found you in the nursery, months ago, when he had confronted you about your choice to stay with Geto. The memory of that encounter still lingered in your mind, sharp and painful.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Geto’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder. “It means they might come after us more directly. We’ve managed to stay ahead of them so far, but it’s only a matter of time before they make a move.”

Your heart sank. You had known that this conflict was coming, but hearing it confirmed—hearing that Gojo, of all people, was leading the charge—made the threat feel all the more real.

“What do we do?” you asked quietly, looking down at your daughter, who was blissfully unaware of the danger that surrounded her.

Geto’s gaze softened as he watched you, his expression filled with a mixture of love and determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you both,” he said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

You nodded, though the fear gnawing at your chest didn’t dissipate. You trusted Geto, believed in his strength, but the thought of Gojo and the forces of Jujutsu High bearing down on your family was a terrifying one.

“Is there… anything we can do to stop it?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Geto sighed, his fingers brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “There are plans in motion,” he said carefully. “But it’s complicated. Gojo’s power makes him a formidable opponent. We need to be strategic.”

The weight of those words hung heavy between you. Gojo was strong—stronger than almost anyone. You had seen firsthand the power he wielded, and though you had chosen Geto’s side, a part of you couldn’t help but fear what Gojo might be capable of if it came to a direct confrontation.

Geto seemed to sense your fear, and he leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. “We’ve built something beautiful here,” he said, his eyes flickering to your daughter before meeting yours again. “Our family. Our future. And I’ll protect it with everything I have.”

You nodded, trying to hold on to that reassurance, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. You knew Geto was powerful, that he was capable of great things, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at you.

As the days passed, the atmosphere in the hideout grew more tense. Geto’s followers were on edge, constantly preparing for the possibility of na attack. You tried to keep your focus on your daughter, on the small moments of peace you could still find within the nursery, but the sense of impending danger was impossible to ignore.

One evening, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the walls of the nursery, you sat by the window with your daughter in your arms. She was starting to open her eyes more often now, her tiny hands reaching out to grab at the world around her. You smiled softly, brushing a hand over her soft hair.

“I’ll keep you safe,” you whispered to her, though the words were as much a promise to yourself as they were to her. “No matter what.”

But even as you made that promise, the weight of the conflict brewing outside the walls of the hideout pressed down on you. You had chosen this path with Geto, chosen to be part of his world, but the reality of that choice was becoming more dangerous by the day.

And somewhere out there, you knew Gojo was waiting.

Waiting for the moment to strike.

notes: if you wanna be tagged just let me know! <3

la·bour /ˈlābər/ noun 1. work, especially hard physical work. "all day, every day, therapist, mother, maid" 3. the process of childbirth "just an appendage, live to attend him"

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Gojo’s words still clung to you, even days after the confrontation in the crepe shop. His accusations, the way his voice had softened when he spoke to you—it had all resurfaced feelings you thought you’d buried. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the memory of that moment when he had rejected you, the same moment that had driven you into Geto’s world. And now, with Geto growing closer to you every day, those old wounds refused to stay sealed.

You couldn’t keep carrying it around—this heavy secret that lingered between you and Geto. You hadn’t told him the full story of why you had come to him, and even though he hadn’t pressed for details, you knew it was only a matter of time before he asked. But now, with the weight of Gojo’s words hanging over you, you knew you needed to tell Geto the truth.

The thought of confessing everything made your stomach churn with anxiety, but you couldn’t hide anymore. Not from him.

Late one night, after hours of restless tossing and turning in your small room, you decided that now was the time. The quiet of the hideout felt like a blanket of security, and though your heart pounded with nervousness, you rose from your bed and headed toward Geto’s quarters. You had spent enough time with him by now to know that he often stayed up late, deep in thought or working on plans for his cause. He wouldn’t be asleep yet.

You hesitated outside his door, your hand hovering over the wood, wondering if you should turn back. What if he thought less of you? What if he didn’t understand? But you couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. Not anymore.

Summoning your courage, you knocked softly. There was a brief pause before you heard Geto’s calm voice from within.

“Come in.”

You opened the door slowly, your heart thudding in your chest as you stepped into the dimly lit room. Geto was seated at a small desk, his back to you, surrounded by papers and documents. He glanced over his shoulder as you entered, offering a small, tired smile when he saw you.

“Up late?” he asked, his tone gentle but curious.

You nodded, closing the door behind you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Geto turned fully to face you, leaning back in his chair as he studied your expression. There was a softness in his gaze, a kind of quiet understanding that made it easier to breathe around him. He always had a way of making you feel like nothing was too big to handle, like he could absorb whatever curse you carried without hesitation.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He raised na eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on your shoulders. But you had already come this far. There was no turning back now.

“It’s about Gojo,” you started, your heart beating faster as you spoke his name. “And why I left Jujutsu High.”

Geto didn’t interrupt. He simply nodded, urging you to continue. His eyes, dark and thoughtful, were fixed on you, and for a brief moment, you felt as though the room had shrunk to just the two of you.

You took a deep breath and began. “I never told you the full story. About what happened before I came to you.”

Geto’s gaze didn’t waver, but you could see a flicker of interest cross his face. He had always been patient with you, never forcing you to share more than you were ready to, but now that you had started, you could sense his quiet curiosity.

“I confessed to Gojo,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I told him how I felt about him… that I had feelings for him.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Geto, the shame of that moment washing over you again as the memory played out in your mind. “And he rejected me. Completely. He didn’t even… he barely acknowledged it.”

The silence in the room was thick, but Geto didn’t move. He didn’t react the way you feared he might. He simply listened, letting you continue.

“I had given him everything,” you said, your voice cracking. “And he just—he didn’t care. He acted like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter. I thought I could handle it, but after that, it was like everything I’d built up… everything I thought I could be at Jujutsu High… it all fell apart.”

Your chest tightened, and you forced yourself to meet Geto’s gaze. His expression hadn’t changed, though there was something in his eyes—something softer than you had expected. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t judgmental. He was just… listening.

“That’s when I found your file in the library,” you continued. “I read about you, about what you believed in. And it made sense. Everything you said about the world, about how the strong should be the ones in control—it felt right. It felt like something I could believe in. So, I left. I came to find you.”

Geto remained quiet for a moment after you finished, letting the weight of your confession settle over the room. His gaze lingered on you, thoughtful and calm, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a strange sense of relief wash over you. You had told him everything. You had laid it all bare.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost gentle. “You don’t have to feel ashamed of that.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart still racing. “But… I…”

“I understand,” Geto said, cutting off your protest with a quiet certainty. “I know what it’s like to put your faith in someone and have it broken. Gojo and I… we were once the same. He and I shared the same ideals, the same vision. But over time, we took different paths. I don’t blame you for following your heart, even if it led you to him.”

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. “But you’re here now. You’ve chosen a new path. That’s what matters.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, easing the tension in your chest. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed. He understood. More than anyone else, Geto understood what it felt like to be abandoned, to be let down by someone you had once trusted. He had lived it himself, and now, he was offering you the same understanding he had longed for.

“I’m not Gojo,” Geto said quietly, his voice steady and sure. “I won’t break you the way he did.”

Something inside you cracked at those words. You had been so afraid of what Geto might think, so terrified that he would see you as weak, but instead, he had given you exactly what you needed: reassurance. He wasn’t Gojo. He wasn’t the person who had shattered your heart. He was something different—something stronger, something you could rely on.

You nodded slowly, the tension in your body slowly easing as you absorbed his words. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Geto gave you a small, knowing smile. “You don’t have to thank me. Just remember—this path we’re on… it’s not easy. But you’re not alone.”

The words hit you with a surprising sense of comfort. You weren’t alone. Not anymore.

As you sat there in the dim light of his room, the quiet between you no longer felt heavy. It felt like understanding. You had finally told him everything, and instead of turning you away, Geto had accepted you.

And in that moment, you knew you had made the right choice.

In the weeks following your late-night confession, you found yourself growing closer to Suguru Geto in ways you had never imagined. He wasn’t just a leader or a mentor anymore—he had become someone who understood you on a level that no one else could. The bond between the two of you had deepened, and with it, came a growing sense of connection that you hadn’t felt since leaving Jujutsu High. There was a certain comfort in the way he treated you, like you weren’t just a follower or another sorcerer under his guidance—you were something more.

Geto was gentle with you in a way you hadn’t expected. He never pushed too hard, never forced you into decisions, but instead guided you with a quiet strength. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, the way he commanded a room without ever raising his voice, the way he looked at you with na intensity that made your heart race. He made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in so long.

It was late one evening when Geto found you alone in the hideout’s courtyard, the sky above painted in deep shades of violet as the sun dipped below the horizon. You had been sitting quietly, lost in your thoughts, reflecting on everything that had happened in recent weeks—on the path you had chosen and the future that lay ahead.

“Mind if I join you?” Geto’s voice was soft as he approached, his presence calming as he sat beside you on the stone bench.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “Of course not.”

For a few moments, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the cool evening breeze brushing against your skin. You glanced at Geto from the corner of your eye, admiring the way the fading light cast soft shadows across his face. There was something undeniably captivating about him, the way he carried himself with such quiet confidence. He had become the center of your world, the one person who had made you feel like you belonged.

“You’ve grown so much since you first came to me,” Geto said, his voice thoughtful. He turned to face you, his dark eyes soft but filled with something deeper, something that made your heart skip a beat. “I’ve seen your strength. Your determination.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you in ways you weren’t prepared for. The closeness between the two of you had grown more intense in recent days, and now, sitting beside him, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the warmth of his presence drawing you in.

“You’ve given me a place where I can finally feel like I matter,” you admitted, your voice quiet, but filled with emotion. “I never had that before.”

Geto smiled softly, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. His touch was warm, comforting, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine. “You do matter,” he said, his voice low and steady. “More than you know.”

The air between you felt charged, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in the intensity of his gaze. The connection you shared had deepened into something more—something you couldn’t quite name, but that you felt with every fiber of your being.

“I need you,” Geto said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not just as a follower, not just as a sorcerer.”

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

“I need you by my side,” he continued, his eyes locked onto yours. “Together, we can bring the Jujutsu world to its proper glory. We can reshape it—change it for the better.”

The weight of his words settled over you, the enormity of what he was asking hitting you all at once. But there was something more in his gaze, something beyond the vision of a new world.

“I want you to be with me,” Geto said, his voice firm but filled with na intensity that made your chest tighten. “Completely. Not just in this fight, but in everything.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse racing as you tried to process the depth of his words. You had never expected this, never imagined that Geto would see you as more than just another follower. But here he was, laying everything bare before you, offering you not just a place in his cause, but a place by his side.

“You’re special to me,” he said, his voice softening as he leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. “I’ve seen your strength, your loyalty. I want you with me, not just as a sorcerer, but as someone I can trust—someone I can build a future with.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for the first time in so long, you felt truly seen. He wasn’t just offering you a role in his cause—he was offering you something deeper, something that spoke to the part of you that had longed for connection, for belonging.

“Be with me,” Geto whispered, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words filled the space between you. “Together, we can reshape this world. Have my children, and we can build something lasting.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts racing as his words settled over you. It was a proposal that carried so much weight, so much responsibility, but at the same time, it was na offer you had never thought you’d hear—a chance to be truly, irrevocably bound to something greater, to someone greater.

You met his gaze, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I—Geto, I…”

But before you could finish, Geto leaned closer, his hand moving from yours to gently cradle your face. His touch was soft, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as he looked at you with na intensity that made your pulse race.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance. “But know this—I see you. I believe in you. And I want you by my side, always.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. The idea of building a future with Geto, of being part of something so much bigger than yourself, was overwhelming, but it was also… comforting. He had given you the care and attention you had craved for so long, and now, he was offering you a future, a place by his side.

When you opened your eyes again, you met his gaze, your heart steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

“I want that too,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet determination. “I want to be with you.”

Geto smiled, his hand still gently cradling your face. “Then we’ll build it together. A future, a world where we can live without fear, without restraint.”

The weight of his promise settled over you, and for the first time in so long, you felt a sense of peace. You had chosen your path, and now, with Geto by your side, you would walk it together—into a future that you would build, brick by brick, hand in hand.

And in that moment, under the darkening sky, you knew that you had finally found the place where you truly belonged.

The days that followed your conversation with Geto were a blur of emotions and quiet moments shared between the two of you. He had kept his word, giving you the care and attention you had been yearning for, and in return, you had fully embraced your role by his side. It felt like you had finally found the place you were meant to be, the future you had longed for within reach. But with this new closeness came new responsibilities—responsibilities you hadn’t expected.

You were pregnant.

It had been a quiet revelation, one that settled over you like the final piece of a puzzle. The morning sickness had been the first clue, followed by the gentle confirmations from Geto as he laid a hand on your stomach, his eyes filled with something more profound than you could describe. There had been no fear, no hesitation from him—only pride and a quiet promise of the future you would build together.

But as the days passed, reality had come crashing down. Geto’s war against Jujutsu High was still ongoing, and while you had been given a reprieve from the battlefield due to your new condition, the tension in the air only grew thicker with each passing day. The next major move was already in play.

Geto had set his sights on something crucial: the Cursed Womb Death Paintings. They were powerful tools, and he needed them to further his plans. He had been planning this attack for weeks, and now, the time had come to make his move. But you were left behind, kept safe in the hideout, unable to join him on the battlefield in your current state.

You had protested at first, your desire to stand by his side burning strong, but Geto had been firm. “You’re carrying our future,” he had said, his voice gentle but unwavering. “You need to stay safe. There will be other battles.”

And so, you had stayed behind, confined to the quiet safety of the hideout while Geto and his followers set off to Jujutsu High.

The hours dragged by, each one filled with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You knew Geto was powerful, that his plan was carefully constructed, but a part of you couldn’t help but worry. Not for his safety, but for the inevitable confrontation with Gojo. The thought of the two of them facing each other again—this time with you as the unspoken tension between them—made your heart race.

What would Gojo say? How would he react when he learned the truth, when he saw how much had changed?

The attack on Jujutsu High was swift and precise.

Geto’s forces had moved under the cover of night, slipping into the school with a plan so meticulously crafted that by the time the alarms were triggered, it was already too late. The cursed womb paintings were within reach, stored in the depths of the school’s most secure vaults. Geto moved through the halls with the confidence of someone who knew every step, every obstacle. His presence alone commanded attention, his followers falling into line without question.

But as expected, Gojo Satoru was there.

The moment Geto entered the secured area, he felt the familiar pulse of Gojo’s cursed energy. It was as unmistakable as ever—blazing, bright, and impossibly overwhelming. Geto smiled to himself, the anticipation of their confrontation sending a thrill through him. This wasn’t just about the cursed womb paintings. No, this was about something much more personal.

Gojo was waiting for him in the heart of the vault, standing casually with his hands in his pockets, that same insufferable grin on his face. “Long time no see, Suguru,” Gojo said, his tone light, but there was na unmistakable edge to it. “Still making a mess of things, I see.”

Geto smirked, stepping forward without a hint of hesitation. “You know how it is, Satoru. Progress requires a little disruption.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “You really think you’re going to get away with this? You and your little group of followers?”

Geto chuckled, his gaze sharp as he looked at Gojo. “Oh, I’m not here for a fight, Satoru. I’m here to collect something that belongs to me.”

Gojo raised na eyebrow. “The cursed womb paintings? You know I can’t let you have those.”

Geto’s smile widened, but there was something darker in his expression now. “That’s not all I came for.” He took a step closer, his voice lowering just enough to make sure Gojo understood every word. “I came to give you some news.”

Gojo’s smile faltered, the tension between them thickening. “News?”

Geto’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You remember her, don’t you? The one who left you? The one you rejected?”

For the first time, Gojo’s casual demeanor cracked. His expression darkened, the name left unspoken, but heavy in the air between them. “What about it?”

Geto leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “She’s with me now, Satoru. Completely. And she’s carrying my child.”

Gojo’s entire body went still, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What?”

“She’s pregnant,” Geto continued, relishing in the way Gojo’s expression shifted from disbelief to something much darker. “And we’ll have many more after this one. She’s mine now, Satoru. In every way.”

Gojo’s fists clenched at his sides, his cursed energy flaring around him in response to Geto’s words. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the once-lighthearted tone between them now replaced by something far more dangerous. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Geto’s smile didn’t waver. “Ask her yourself, if you dare.”

Gojo took a step forward, his cursed energy swirling around him like a storm. The air crackled with power, the tension between them at a breaking point. “You think this is some kind of game, Suguru?”

“Oh, it’s no game,” Geto said smoothly. “It’s reality. And soon enough, you’ll realize that she was never meant for your world. She belongs to mine. With me.”

The words hung in the air like a blade, cutting deep into the space between them. Gojo’s fury was palpable, his entire body tense as he struggled to contain the emotions surging through him. But Geto remained calm, confident, knowing that he had struck exactly where it hurt the most.

“I’ll get the cursed womb paintings,” Geto said, his voice low and commanding. “And I’ll reshape this world. And she—she’ll be there by my side.”

Gojo didn’t respond, his eyes burning with rage, but beneath the fury, there was something else—something like hurt.

Geto took a step back, his eyes never leaving Gojo’s. “Take care, "uncle" Satoru. You’ll need to accept that some things are beyond even your control.”

And with that, Geto turned, his goal complete, leaving Gojo standing alone in the vault, the weight of the truth pressing down on him like a vice.

Back at the hideout, you waited anxiously for Geto’s return, your hand resting gently on your stomach. You knew the confrontation with Gojo had been inevitable, but the thought of what had been said between them made your heart race with uncertainty.

But whatever had happened, one thing was clear: you had made your choice. You were with Geto now, and nothing—not even Gojo—could change that.

notes: yeah i just knocked everyone up with geto's child hope yall enjoy this tour, amen sisters! <3 if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

We have two time skips here - I just want to clear up a couple of things. First off, the reader's age. It's clear she's a student under Gojo, implied to be in her third year, but there are quite a few time skips—especially when she's under Geto's care—so the timeline can get a little messy. It's also pretty obvious that she confesses to Gojo not long before graduation, and she officially comes of age shortly after leaving Jujutsu High. Just wanted to clarify that before any confusion pops up!

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