The truth had been far from it. He simply was so comfortable and calm that his infinity had faded because you were safe. He hadn't meant for it to happen but it did.

You never thought to much on it, really. You weren't a threat. You were just his friend. Of course, you never wanted to hurt him. Maybe his infinity knew that, that's why it faded with you.

Years went on by, the same cycle repeated. You'd poke him, flick at him, annoy him, sometimes throw things at him and it always landed. Like his infinity just simply didn't exist. All because you were safe. For Satoru, you were home.

It got moreso after Suguru left.

He orbited you more and more. If he wasn't dealing with clan issues or higher ups or missions, he'd just be loitering at your house or following you around between classes.

There were times when your mind wandered and thought what if but it was quickly squashed out. Men like Gojo didn't fall for women like you. You imagined he'd find someone like himself. Strong, formidable, unbreakable.

You were unaware of how Satoru thought the same. That women like you didn't fall for men like him. Men who are meant to be weapons, who don't know softness. He always imagined you'd end up with someone like Nanami. Disciplined, kind, honest.

Not him. Not whatever he was. Or had been raised to be.

But here he was, enjoying the pretend game in his mind that this was more than just friendship. That him lounging on your sofa while you graded training reports was him coming home from a mission and you taking care of him, instead of him just hanging out to annoy you.

"You ever think about the future?" He asked suddenly.

"Sound more ominous, won't you?" You laughed, giving him a look.

"No, I mean- What about ten years from now?" He shrugged. "Where do you think you'd be?"

You leaned back in your chair and hummed. "Better apartment, hopefully. Maybe married?" You said thoughtfully. "I'd still wanna be teaching kids, though. Don't think I'd retire or something."

"Married, huh?" He latched onto that one thing. "Bet you'd pick someone boring." He smiled. "Someone predictable, probably someone who'd come home everyday at 6:30."

"Those are good traits. But I highly doubt that someone who clocks out at 5 would ever understand this life." You laughed. "Why? What about you?"

Would I even live that long?

Satoru shrugged. "Ehh- I'm not exactly marriage material."

"Says who?" You rolled your eyes.

Weapons aren't meant to be loved let alone marry and ruin someone else's life.

"I'm just saying. I think I'd get bored pretty quickly." He tried to stay nonchalant.

"Says the guy who sobbed for losing his virginity in a one night stand because you wanted it to mean something and it didn't." You laughed and he puffed up, turning pink.

"I recall no such thing!!" He huffed and looked away, sitting up, folding his arms.

"Where's this even coming from?" You probed. "You never think that far, anyway. You only ever live in the now."

"Not true-" He said weakly, turning to meet your gaze. Even with the blindfold on, you knew he wasn't being truthful.

You took his name and he felt his heart weaken. He hated when you said his name like that. Like it meant more than it did. Like he meant more to you than he thought he did.

"I'm just thinking..." He said quietly. "I can't imagine this would be forever. Just fighting. You know?"

"You're right." You turned, looking out the window. "This can't be all there is."

"But you know, sorcerers don't exactly have a long lifespan. Unless they have heirs and bigger clans that can carry on the legacy and-" He stopped himself.

"Do you want that? Heirs and a clan?" You asked, turning back to him.

"Who'd ever want to carry the Gojo name? It seems to be cursed." He tried to joke. It didn't land. He sighed and leaned into the couch again, face into the cushions.

"Hey-" You stood up and walked to him, flicking his ear. "What's going on? Did something happen?" You knelt down beside his head, forcing him to turn his face to look at you.

"Nothing." He said too quickly, then whined and buried his face into the cushions again. "I dunno. Maybe I'm feeling existential." He mumbled, making you chuckle.

"Satoru..." You said it like that again. "What happened?"

"You said married. Like that sorta stuff would just happen for people like us." People like me. He sighed, turning to face you again.

You laughed a little. "Why not?" You sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Because we're sorcerers." He pouted.

"Yeah well, like I said, I'm not aiming to marry a non-sorcerer. I'll find someone who understands what I am, what I do." You explained. "And hopefully, we'll do it together. That's not too much to think about."

"Name two options you've got." He said, and you just knew he was rolling his eyes at you.

"Ken is a nice option." You hummed, "Or maybe Atsuya?"

"WHAT?!" He jumped to sit up, "THOSE TWO?!"

You laughed loudly at his reaction. "Satoru! What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing- Nothing. But really? Those two?!" He whined, falling back into the cushions. "I get that you want safe and predicatable but god, really?"

You laughed more. "I didn't say I wanted that. You assumed I did."

"You... don't?" He slid down the couch, sitting on the floor with you. "Then- Uh- What- What do you want?"

"Huh..." You paused, leaning against the coffee table as he leaned back against the foot of the sofa. He watched you carefully, gauging every little reaction. "I'm... I think I'd like to retire eventually. With someone who understands how much of my youth I gave up. You know? Raise a couple kids." You smiled, "Have that whole Clan life. Legacy and lineage."

"Really?" He whispered, surprised, honestly. "I didn't think you'd be so... traditional."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah. What about you?"

"I already told y-" He began but you flicked his nose. "Hey!!" He whined, rubbing the tip. "I- I'm not sure." He confessed. "Never really gave it much thought. I don't think I'd live to see 30."

"If you did." You prompted.

Satoru took a deep breath and exhaled. "I... What you said sounds nice. Kids, Clan, legacy." He smiled to himself, "I think I'd be a good dad. Raise some brats of my own. Give Megumi a whole lot of little sisters and brothers."

You laughed and nodded. "Yeah- Yeah, you'd be a good dad."

There was a moment of silence. Not awkward or uncomfortable. Just heavy. Like there was more to be said but neither wanted to say it.

"Is... Is that all that's been bothering you?" You asked softly.

No.

"Yeah." He nodded. "That's all."

Maybe he'd be braver some other day. But today was not it.

.

.

Kai came tumbling out of the bounce house, a whirlwind of pure, unadulterated joy, his little face flushed and beaming. He made a beeline for you, his sneakers kicking up dust from the dry grass. "Mom!" he yelled, his voice full of desperate excitement. "Is Gojoman coming!? I want to show him the new Superman action figure I got!"

You smiled, brushing a hand through his hair that had already begun sticking up wildly from the bounce house static.

“He said he would try, sweetheart,” you said gently. “But you know he’s busy sometimes.”

Kai nodded very seriously, as if this was a grave superhero-level responsibility.

“I know,” he said. “Saving the world.”

Emily snorted softly beside you.

“Right,” she muttered. “Probably punching a volcano or something.”

Kai accepted this explanation immediately and sprinted back toward the bounce house with his new Superman figure clutched triumphantly in his hand.

You watched him go, your chest tightening in that quiet way it often did when you looked at him too long. The way his laughter carried across the yard. The way his friends followed him like he was the center of gravity.

Seven years old.

Seven.

Emily nudged your arm lightly.

“You okay?”

You blinked, dragging your attention back to the table.

“Yeah,” you said, taking another bite of pizza that had already gone lukewarm. “Just thinking.”

Emily studied you for a moment. Then she leaned across the picnic table, her voice dropping to a quieter, more serious tone.

“So… have you given any more thought to Tokyo?”

You sighed, nudging the edge of your pizza with your thumb. “Not really,” you admitted. “And surprisingly, Satoru hasn’t brought it up again since that night.”

Emily took a slow sip of her punch. “He’s patient.”

“More like stubborn as hell,” you said. “I know he’ll bring it up again. It’s just… a matter of time.”

“He’s trying to protect you,” she said gently.

“I know.” You exhaled, shoulders sinking slightly. “I just don’t know what the right call is.”

There was a brief pause.

“Em…” You hesitated, lowering your voice. “I stopped taking the suppressants.”

Emily’s head snapped up. “You did?”

“A few days ago,” you said quietly. “I figured… if the higher-ups already have Kai on their radar, I need to know what’s going on. Not just… guess.”

Emily nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s fair.”

“But—” You frowned, the unease finally slipping through. “I haven’t had any dreams. Nothing.”

Emily’s brows pulled together. “None at all?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been on them for years, Em.” Your voice dropped. “What if my technique is just… gone? Like I broke it somehow.”

She tilted her head, thinking.

“I don’t think you ‘broke’ it,” she said carefully. “But you definitely shouldn’t be guessing with something like that.”

You let out a quiet breath, fingers tightening slightly around your cup.

“You still have that doctor friend, right?” Emily continued. “The one who works with sorcerers—Shoko? Maybe you should talk to her.”

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed against the table.

You glanced down.

The screen lit up with a single message from Satoru.

Gojo: I’m outside.

Your stomach did a small, traitorous flip.

You looked up at Emily.

“I’ll be right back.”

She immediately smirked.

“Uh huh.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at your lips as you stood and slipped through the back door into the house. The quiet inside felt almost jarring compared to the chaos of the backyard.

You walked through the living room and opened the front door.

And there he was.

Satoru leaned casually against a sleek black sedan parked at the curb—Ijichi’s sedan, judging by the painfully responsible appearance of it. He held the car keys loosely in one hand and a gift bag in the other.

“You… brought Ijichi’s car?” you asked, confused. “Usually you just warp here.”

“Yeah,” he said easily.

He pushed off the car and walked toward you.

“Didn’t think it’d be the best idea to warp into a kid’s birthday party.”

He shrugged lightly.

“People might start asking questions.”

He reached up and slid his blindfold down around his neck.

And then he stopped walking.

Because he was looking at you.

From head to toe.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

“Satoru,” you said, already feeling your face heat.

“I’ve never seen you in a sundress before,” he said quietly.

You swallowed. “Well… it’s hot.”

“Yes, you are,” he replied, biting his lip with a teasing grin.

“Insufferable as ever” you said, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.

If there was one thing you’d learned about Satoru over the past year, it was that his appetite for you was… relentless. With him constantly traveling between Tokyo and California, sometimes gone for weeks—or even months—he always made up for it the second he got back. And if he had it his way, you’d never leave the bed.

And honestly? You’d probably let him.

But today was your son’s birthday. He was going to have to behave.

You gestured toward the house. “Come on.”

You reached for his hand, but he caught your wrist instead, tugging you back toward him, and then he kissed you. Warm. Deep. Familiar. Like slipping into something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing until it was there again.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I missed you,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. “California girl.”

Your chest tightened.

“I missed you too.”

And you meant it.

It had been nearly a month.

His scent—clean soap, something faintly sweet, something unmistakably him—wrapped around you, making your head spin. His hand slid down from your waist.

Lower.

Lower—

Until he squeezed your ass.

“Satoru!” You smacked his chest.

He just laughed softly.

Your body betrayed you anyway, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“Come on,” you said quickly, grabbing his hand before he could push things further. “Kai’s been waiting.”

His fingers laced with yours, and together, you walked through the house and back into the backyard.

Kai noticed him instantly.

“GOJOMAN!!”

He sprinted across the grass and launched himself straight into Satoru’s arms.

Satoru caught him easily.

“Whoa there,” he laughed.

He lifted Kai up slightly, examining him.

“Hold on… you’re seven now?”

Kai nodded proudly.

“That means you’re basically a professional superhero,” Satoru said seriously. “I might have to start taking orders from you.”

Kai beamed.

Satoru handed him the gift bag.

“Happy birthday, kid.”

Kai gasped and immediately ran it over to the present table before racing back to the bounce house.

You returned to your seat across from Emily, Satoru sat beside you. Emily lifted her cup in greeting, “You made it.”

“Barely,” Satoru said. “Work’s been tragic.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “I’ll light a candle.”

Under the table, Satoru’s hand settled on your lap.

At first it just rested there over the fabric of your dress.

You tried to ignore it.

Emily leaned forward, turning to you,

“So how’s school going?”

“Good,” you said. “I chose all online classes for next semester. Mostly asynchronous.”

Emily nodded. “That’s smart.”

“Figured it’d save time commuting,” you said. “And I’ll be able to spend more time at home with Kai.”

Satoru’s hand slid under your dress. His palm brushed your leg just above your knee.

You shifted slightly in your seat. His fingers slid higher along your thigh.

You cleared your throat and placed your hand firmly over his, trying to keep it from moving. It didn’t work.

You shifted again.

Emily noticed.

One eyebrow slowly lifted.

“Well,” you said abruptly, standing. “We’d better cut the cake.”

Beside you, Satoru chuckled.

“Aw,” Satoru said lazily. “Right when things were getting interesting.”

You shot him a glare.

“Cake!” you called. “Everyone come sing happy birthday!”

The kids swarmed immediately.

Kai stood proudly behind the cake while everyone sang.

You lit the candles.

He made a wish.

Blew them out.

Then you started cutting slices and handing them out while the kids devoured them like tiny sugar gremlins.

Afterward Kai opened his gifts.

When he got to Satoru’s, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

It was a limited-edition Japanese Superman figure—fully articulated, imported, and very clearly expensive.

Your jaw dropped.

“Satoru.”

He shrugged.

“The future strongest sorcerer alive deserves decent gear.”

Kai immediately ran off to show it to his friends.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

You glanced down.

Danny’s mom: Hey! I’ll be there in about 15 to grab him 😊

You looked up toward the yard.

“Kai,” you called.

He jogged over, Danny trailing right behind him—the kid he’d been inseparable from all year, both of them still clutching pieces of cake and half-opened toys.

“Danny’s mom is coming soon,” you said. “About fifteen minutes.”

Both boys immediately deflated.

“What?” Kai said. “But we just opened everything.”

“Yeah,” Danny added, frowning. “We didn’t even get to play yet.”

Kai looked up at you, hopeful. “Can he stay a little longer?”

You hesitated, already pulling your phone back out.

“I can ask,” you said. “But she’s probably already on her way—”

“We can just take him,” Satoru cut in from beside you, like it was the most obvious solution in the world.

You looked at him.

“…we can?”

He shrugged lightly. “Yeah. Drop him off after.”

Danny’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Really?!”

Kai looked like he’d just been handed a second birthday.

You exhaled, already typing.

“Let me ask his mom first,” you said.

A second later, your phone buzzed again.

Danny’s mom: Oh that would actually be amazing, thank you!

You smiled slightly. “Okay. She said yes.”

The boys cheered and immediately ran back toward the yard like they’d just been granted extra life.

The party starts winding down, parents start picking up their kids and Emily and your parents help pick up the plates. A little while later, as the last of the kids trickled out, your parents gathered near the table.

“We’re gonna head out,” your dad said, grabbing Kai’s overnight bag.

Kai, still clutching his new Superman figure, turned to Danny first.

“Bye, Danny,” he said. “I’ll show you the other one when I get back.”

Danny nodded seriously. “Okay. Bye, Kai.”

Then Kai ran over to you, still buzzing from sugar and excitement, and threw his arms around you.

“Bye, Mom!”

You laughed softly, kissing the top of his head. “Be good.”

“Always,” he said, pulling back with a grin.

Then he turned and sprinted to Satoru.

“Bye, Gojoman!”

Satoru bent slightly, one hand ruffling Kai’s hair.

“Don’t cause too much trouble at your grandparents’, alright?” he said. “Try to keep the city standing till I see you again.”

Kai grinned. “I will.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” you muttered, smiling anyway.

Satoru looked pleased with himself.

Kai ran back toward your parents, who were already heading for the car.

You watched them go, something in your chest softening as the noise of the party finally began to fade.

Then you looked at Satoru, he gave a small nod. You turned to Danny.

“Alright, kiddo,” you said. “Time to take you home.”

The drive didn’t take long. Your hand remained intertwined with Satoru’s, while his other rested on the steering wheel. Danny’s mom was already at the door when you arrived, her smile filled with obvious relief.

“Thank you again,” she said.

“Of course,” you replied.

Danny waved as he climbed out. “Bye, Ms. Y/N! Bye, Mr. Gojoman!”

Satoru lifted a hand in an easy wave.

Before you knew it it was just the two of you in the car.

Satoru pulled away from the curb.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

You exhaled softly, leaning back into the seat.

Then—

his grip loosened.

His hand slipped from yours.

Rested on your thigh.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Your breath caught.

His fingers traced higher, brushing just beneath the hem of your dress, unhurried—like he had all the time in the world.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

You shifted slightly, your pulse picking up, heat blooming low in your stomach.

He didn’t look at you.

Just kept driving.

Like this was nothing.

Like you weren’t unraveling next to him.

Then, without a word, he turned into an empty parking lot.

The engine clicked off.

Silence.

You let out a small, nervous laugh.

“What—”

He turned toward you.

“C’mere.”

Before you could argue, he reached over, unbuckled your seatbelt, and pulled his seat back, guiding you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your hands landed against his chest.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he buried his face into the curve of your neck.

You let out a soft breath, your fingers sliding into his hair.

“Someone’s impatient,” you murmured.

“You have no idea,” he panted, his voice muffled by your skin. His hands grew bolder, one sliding around to your front, fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “Missed this. Missed you.” He unzipped his jeans and shoved them down just enough, along with his boxers, freeing his cock. It sprang up, hot and heavy against your thigh. “I need you. Now.”

You could only whine in response, your body aching with a need that mirrored his own. He hooked his fingers into your panties, pulling the soaked fabric aside.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

You did.

His blue eyes held you there, vivid and overwhelming, like he could see straight through you—like he always could.

He didn't wait, didn't tease. He gripped your hips and lifted you, positioning you over him. He locked eyes with you, his gaze dark and wild, and then he pulled you down.

A choked moan tore from your throat as he sank into you, inch by thick, perfect inch. He stretched you, filled you so completely it stole your breath. “Satoru… ah… god…”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest. His hands clamped onto your waist, his grip almost painful as he held you still, letting you both adjust. "“This is….” He was panting, his chest heaving. “…just what I needed.. Just you.”

He started to move then, a slow, deep roll of his hips that made your eyes roll back. He lifted you up, almost pulling off completely, only to slam you back down, harder this time. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a relentless, punishing rhythm. The car rocked with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small space.

One of his hands left your waist, sliding up your torso to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress. He squeezed, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, making you gasp. Then, his hand moved to the v-neck of your sundress, pulling the fabric down until your breast spilled out. He lowered his head, his hot, wet mouth closing over the peak, his tongue swirling around it before he began to suck, hard.

“Satoru!” you cried out, your back arching. The dual sensations of him pounding into you from below and his mouth on your breast were overwhelming. His other hand gripped your ass, guiding your movements, helping you ride him as he met you thrust for thrust.

“Mmm...” he panted against your skin, his voice ragged. "I love hearing you say my name when I’m inside you.”

“You’re insufferable,” you breathed, though your fingers tightened in his shirt.

He huffed a quiet laugh.

“And you love it.”

Your answer dissolved into a broken sound as you moved with him, your body falling into rhythm like it remembered him too well. He leaned in again, lips brushing your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.

“Do you have any idea how distracting you’ve been from across the ocean?” he murmured, a trace of amusement in his voice. “Lying in my bed in Tokyo, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t you…”

A quiet breath.

“Didn’t go well.”

That did it. The words hit somewhere deeper, and your body reacted instantly—tightening around him with a sharp inhale. He hissed softly, his hips stuttering for a second.

"F—Fuck… don't do that," he laughed under his breath. "Gonna make me lose it."

You didn't slow down. If anything, you moved harder, pulling him deeper, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, and he caught on immediately.

"Okay—" he breathed, a grin slipping into his voice, "You win this time, California girl."

His hand slid between your bodies again, his thumb finding your clit with practiced ease. He circled it once, twice, and that was it. The coil in your stomach snapped, and you came with a sharp cry, your inner walls clamping down around him as pleasure washed over you in overwhelming waves. “Satoru—" you gasped. Your eyes rolled back, your lips parted in a silent moan.

He followed soon after, your name murmured against your neck as he stilled, his body going tense for a moment before he emptied himself deep inside you with a final, shuddering thrust. You felt the hot, thick pulses of his release filling you, marking you from the inside out.

For a long moment, you just stayed there, tangled together in the front seat, the only sound your ragged breathing. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close as you both came back down to earth. You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your fingers stroking the back of his neck.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, something quieter settled into his expression.

“Y/N…” he said, more serious now. “I need you close. You and Kai. I need to know you’re safe.”

You stilled.

Then exhaled, resting your forehead against his. “…okay.”

His brows pulled together slightly. “Okay?”

You nodded. “We’ll go,” you said softly. “To Tokyo. With you.”

There was a pause. “You will?” he asked, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes.

You nodded again. “Just give me a few weeks. Kai’s school year is almost over… we can go during summer break. It’ll give him time to say goodbye to his friends.”

A slow smile spread across his face—so open it almost caught you off guard. “Wow,” he murmured. “I was fully prepared to argue with you for at least another month.”

You huffed a small laugh. His gaze softened anyway

Then he pulled you in again, hand firm at the back of your neck, kissing you like he hadn’t had enough yet—slow, deep, a little breathless from everything that had already happened between you.

He barely pulled away, lips brushing yours. “…I can wait a few weeks.”

---------------------

The party went on until it dwindled to a few people just lazying around Satoru's condo. Megumi, Nobara and Yuuji were piled up on the couch like a bunch of kittens, all tangled in one another. Kento was sharing a smoke with Shoko in the balcony and you were clearing the space by tossing used plates and cups into a trash bag.

Satoru watched you for a while, leaning against a doorframe. He adored how easily you moved around in his space. As if it were your home too. He wished that it was.

"Just gonna stare or help?" You teased him, earning a soft laugh.

"Yeah- Yeah- I'm helping." He smiled and followed you around, helping you clean up.

Once the major trash was put aside, you two found yourselves in the kitchen. He made two coffees with his fancy machine and handed you a cup.

"So..." He said slowly. "30. Never thought I'd see the day." He was glad for his blindfold because then he could turn his face elsewhere but still just watch you from the corner of his eye all the time.

"The world is your oyster," You smiled at him. "What's next for the greatest sorcerer in the world?"

He sighed a little, sipping the bitter drink. "I don't even know. I just- I'm surprised I got this far."

"You're here now. Focus on that." You stepped closer, rubbing his back.

He melted right into your touch and took a deep breath again. "I'm trying- Really am. But-"

"But what?" You tilted your head, and he turned to face you fully.

Everything I want is you and I know I can never have it. You could never love someone like me. Scarred, disfigured, burdened with expectations still and the Gojo name and-

"Satoru?" You prompted him again as he'd fallen silent.

He flashed a smile and shook his head. "It's nothing." You rolled your eyes and flicked his temple. "Hey! Ow! You abuse me a lot, you know-"

You laughed at him. "Me? Abuse the great Satoru Gojo?" You poked at his ribs and he yelped.

"Hey! Stop-" He said but didn't really mean it. You poked, tickled and flicked at him until he was holding both your hands and your back was pressed against the countertop. "I'm serious-" He said softly. "Please-'"

You frowned and nodded. "Sorry- I-"

"No- Not-" He sighed and his head dropped a little. "It's just hard to keep things normal in my head when you act like that."

"Act like ... what?" You swallowed.

"Like I mean more than just a friend." He whispered, tugging his blindfold down. His eyes cast a halo on his face and they darted around your face to really look at you.

You didn't say anything- You were unsure what to even say, honestly.

"I- Sorry-" He took a step back. "Lost my head for a second there."

"Satoru..." You didn't let go of his hands. "What -"

"Do you still think of getting married to Kento or Atsuya?" He asked and you laughed.

"What? Where did that even-" You paused, remembering of a conversation from years ago. "No- No I'm not even dating them. I just meant that it would be easier to follow tradition with a sorcerer than someone not from this world." You explained easily.

Satoru nodded and pulled one hand away from yours, rubbing his eyes then scrubbing that hand over his face, then running it through his face. It was obvious that he was frustrated by something.

"Would you go for an arranged clan marriage?" He asked and you shrugged.

"I might. If it's a good match. I'm not getting any younger." You smiled at him.

He nodded again, absorbing the information.

"What if he is a good match but like- he's covered in scars?" He asked, his heart in his throat. "And he used to be handsome but now is just... messed up?"

"You and I, and everyone else knows the consequences of our life choices. Scars are unavoidable." You frowned. "Why? You got someone in mind for me?" You teased, poking at his cheek.

He huffed a laugh, "Maybe. I'm just thinking-" You couldn't look away from his striking eyes and he relished in that. "Do you have someone in mind?" He asked, his voice dropping low.

You shook your head. A lie. Of course you had someone in mind. You always did. But you'd never tell him that. Never in a million years. Satoru deserved someone strong. At least in his power realm. Not you. Never you.

"No-" You swallowed.

Satoru nodded. He'd never thought he'd get this far in life, maybe this was a sign to confess? Or maybe he was just reading into it too much? Maybe him surviving this long- Being able to get this far- All this just meant that he was meant to have more. Be more.

"Can-" His voice wavered, "What if I-" He paused. His voice was failing him. He took a breath and smiled at you, you couldn't help but smile in return. It was so easy to be in his orbit. "Would you be open to - to-"

"To?" You whispered.

"To offer a name for your consideration?" He finally settled on saying.

You laughed. A proper giggle. "Who could you possib-"

"Me."

You blinked. The silence wrapped around you both like a vice. You weren't sure you heard him right. He wasn't sure if you were gearing up to laugh again.

"You?" You asked, unsure if your brain had gotten the words right or not.

"Me." He said lowly, his hands still in yours. He placed your palms against his chest, covering them with his hands, letting you feel his heartbeat. "Is that- Would that be something you're open to?"

You were sure that if you weren't against the countertop or if he wasn't actively holding your hands, you would have crumpled to the floor in shock.

"Please say something. Even if it's a no-" Satoru did his best to hide being a joke.

"It's not-" You said softly. "It's not a no."

"Really?" His brows rose then his face softened, a smile wide and bright, and his eyes, even brighter.

"Really." You repeated, your skin feeling warmer.

"Good- Good-" He beamed at you, "Because I've been wanting to try something for a very long time and I-" He didn't bother to finish his sentence and just dipped his head, kissing you fully.

You gasped and squeaked a laugh, hands clenching at his shirt as you smiled into the kiss. His hands wrapped around your waist as he leaned forward, dipping you down, making you laugh even more. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you kissed him back just as sweetly-

From the balcony, Kento and Shoko sighed and someone said, about damn time-

.

.

You swallowed hard. “It’s just green velvet,” you replied, trying to downplay the effect he was having.

“It’s a problem,” he corrected, his eyes finally landing on your feet. “Heels?”

You lifted your chin in defiance. “Yep. Problem?” you challenged, your tone sharp.

His brows furrowed for a second, a flicker of something protective crossing his face before he smoothed it over.

“No,” he said carefully. “Just making sure you’re not planning on fighting gravity tonight.”

The smirk returned, but softer this time. “You look incredible,” he added, the words sounding simple and true.

"...thanks" You muttered, refusing to melt under the weight of his stare.

He offered his arm, and you slipped yours through it, pretending you didn’t need the anchor. His hand adjusted automatically at your side, a subtle pressure that steadied you without a word.

“Okay,” he said lightly. “Let’s go supervise hormonal chaos.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “And if those shoes start a rebellion, I’m kidnapping you. No debate.”

“Don’t start,” you warned, smoothing your hands down your velvet dress like that was the reason your pulse was jumping.

“I haven’t even begun,” he replied, and you shot him a look that only made him smile wider.

The drive was quiet. Ijichi was a professional, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows. Satoru sat beside you, a solid presence that felt too close. Your knee was nearly touching his.

You stared out the window, trying to quiet your thoughts. Luna and Kai went to the same K-12 school, which meant you could run into anyone.

Parents who had it all together. Teachers with their polite, measured tones. PTA members who thrived on subtle hierarchy. And here you were, walking in on heels you could barely stand in with a man who looked like he’d stepped off a magazine cover.

Even now, so many years later, a grown adult and a mother, you still felt small. The same insecurity you’d worn like a second skin since middle school had followed you, clinging to you through every milestone. You were an outsider here, just as you’d been there.

You had carried all those feelings with you into adulthood, never quite feeling like you fit in or belong anywhere, least of all in the world of Jujutsu sorcery you’d tried so hard to leave behind. The spiral was starting, that familiar tightening in your chest.

Satoru shifted, his hand brushing yours. Barely. But it was enough. Warm. Solid. Real.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only you. “You’re thinking too hard.”

You blinked, startled. “I am not,” you denied, a little too quickly.

A faint smirk played on his lips. “You are,” he insisted gently. “Your eyebrow does this thing.”

“My eyebrow does not do a thing,” you retorted, trying to keep a straight face.

“It absolutely does,” he said. His pinky hooked around yours for a second, so brief it felt accidental, before he pulled away. “You’re fine,” he added softly. “If anyone’s weird, that’s on them.” He glanced out the window. “And if they’re rude, I’ll be worse.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched into a small smile. The knot in your chest loosened, just a little.

The moment you stepped into the ballroom, you knew you’d made a mistake.

The bass hit you like a physical force, vibrating through the floor. Lights strobed overhead, turning the sea of glittering dresses and suits into a dizzying blur.

The air was too warm, too loud, too close. You navigated the few steps down into the main hall, your ankles wobbling precariously. You made it to the nearest chair and sank into it, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Satoru dropped into the seat beside you, looking completely at ease. “I don’t get it,” you muttered, your gaze scanning the crowd. “If there were this many volunteers, why did they need us?”

He shrugged lazily. “We’re already here,” he reasoned. “Might as well enjoy it.”

Luna spotted you and hurried over. “Hey! So, a bunch of people actually volunteered last minute after the school sent that email,” she explained quickly.

“Yeah, that’s great,” you said, aiming for cheerful and not quite landing it.

“But thank you for showing up. Really,” she added, squeezing your arm gratefully.

“Anything for my baby sister,” you replied, your voice softening for her.

Her friends immediately pulled her back into the flashing crowd. And there were so many people. Teachers, parents, students. Across the room, you spotted two PTA regulars, Stacey and Marie, the kind of women who smiled too wide and seemed to take notes on everything. You’d attended meetings when you could, but between two jobs and now school, time was a luxury you didn’t have.

Satoru followed your gaze. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. Fine,” you said, the lie tasting like ash.

He studied you for a beat too long. “Good,” he said finally. “I’m getting snacks.” He’d been eyeing the dessert table since you walked in. Of course he had.

“Those are for the kids,” you shot back, trying to sound authoritative.

He looked mock-offended. “Relax, I’m supervising quality control,” he said smoothly.

You glared, but he just grinned and stood. “I’ll bring you something,” he added over his shoulder.

He returned a minute later with two cupcakes. “Important decision,” he announced, sitting back down. “Whipped cream…” He lifted one. “…or buttercream?”

The sight of the frosting, the low hum of the music, the warmth of him beside you—it all brought back flashes of that dream. His voice in your head… you taste so good… Your pulse spiked.

“Earth to California girl,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts.

You blinked, shaking the image away. “Uh. Buttercream,” you said quickly.

He handed it over. You took a bite while he devoured his in three efficient bites. Then his attention was fully on you, his gaze stilled, locking onto your mouth.

“You have a little…” he murmured, his own voice dropping an octave.

Heat flooded your face. “Oh,” you breathed, quickly licking the buttercream from your lip.

His jaw tightened just slightly, but the smirk that followed gave him away.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he murmured. “You’re making that very challenging.”

You stood up abruptly, flustered. “I’m gonna go get something to drink,” you mumbled, needing space.

The walk to the punch bowl was a trial. You stumbled, a clumsy, lurching motion that sent a wave of embarrassment over you. You caught yourself on the edge of the table, your cheeks burning. Before you could even pour a drink, he was behind you, offering his arm. You took it, gratefully this time.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and decisive.

He guided you toward the courtyard doors with quiet confidence, his hand steady at the small of your back as though he had already decided this was happening.

The cool night air brushed against your skin the moment you stepped outside, and you let out a slow breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Out here, it was just the two of you. The music was muted behind the closed doors, and the chatter of the crowd faded into a distant hum. The courtyard felt removed from everything else, suspended in a pocket of quiet.

You became acutely aware of the cold biting at your skin, of the dull ache in your feet, and of how foolish those heels had been in the first place.

His fingers slid gently beneath your chin, lifting your face until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Hold on tight,” he instructed softly, already wrapping an arm securely around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

The world folded in on itself.

One second you were in the courtyard, the next you were in your living room. The room was still spinning, and you sank down onto your couch to steady yourself.

“Wh— Satoru, what are we—”

And then it clicked.

“…Did you just teleport us?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “I don’t appreciate being relocated without my consent,” you said, aiming for indignation and landing somewhere closer to flustered.

He tilted his head, looking offended. “First of all, I warped space. Huge difference. Teleporting is tacky.”

Like that made it better.

“And,” he added breezily, already strolling toward your room like he owned it, “I distinctly remember saying that if those torture devices started hurting you, I was kidnapping you. I’m a man of my word.”

You sputtered behind him while he disappeared inside.

He reemerged moments later holding your familiar shoebox, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Then—because subtlety had never been part of his brand—he dropped to one knee in front of you.

The sight stole the air from your lungs.

“Relax,” he drawled, flipping open the box. “If I were proposing, there’d be fireworks. An orchestra. Possibly a minor atmospheric disturbance.”

Inside were your worn black dolly flats.

Without ceremony, his long fingers moved to the strap at your ankle. Efficient. Certain. Like he’d done this a thousand times in some other life.

He slid the heel off slowly, thumbs brushing over your arch.

He paused.

“…You’re freezing.”

The teasing note vanished.

He enclosed one of your feet in both of his large, warm hands, rubbing it gently, his thumbs pressing into the sole with a slow, deliberate friction that chased the chill away.

You shifted, a jolt of self-consciousness shooting through you. You’d always been weird about people touching your feet, a mix of ticklishness and insecurity tied to the subtle tremors of your cerebral palsy.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

His hands didn’t retreat. They adjusted — firmer, grounding.

His gaze lifted to yours. Those impossible blue eyes were quieter now. Sharper in a different way.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Not teasing. Not flashy. Just him. He tightened his hold slightly — secure, not restraining. “I’ve got you.” Then, softer, with a crooked half-smile that didn’t quite hide the sincerity:

“Easy, California girl. You think I’d fumble something this precious? I’m the strongest, remember?”

The tension in your shoulders eased despite yourself.

He resumed warming your foot, slow deliberate strokes, like time bent around him the way space did. Like there wasn’t a single curse, mission, or universe demanding his attention.

Just this.

Just you.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he added, voice light but edged with truth. “Not to PTA moms. Not to the world.”

A small pause.

“Definitely not to me.”

Your throat tightened.

Because somehow the strongest man alive was on his knees in front of you — not for spectacle, not because anyone was watching.

Just because you were cold.

He guided your foot into the flat, fastening the strap with absurd concentration, like this required Six Eyes precision. Then he repeated the process with the other, hands warm, movements unhurried. Deliberate.

When he finished, he didn’t stand immediately.

He lingered.

Like he wanted to make sure the ground understood it was responsible for holding you.

You searched for something to say, but words felt flimsy. He’d always been protective. Recklessly so.

But this?

This softness was rare. Almost classified.

“Hey,” he said quietly, glancing up at you through pale lashes. “You remember what I told you… when you said you couldn’t step onto a battlefield?”

The memory hit before you could stop it.

I’m not expecting you to be anything other than what you already are.

Your heart stumbled over itself.

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just searched your face like he could read the memory there anyway.

Then he slipped his hand into yours and rose in one fluid motion, pulling you up effortlessly with him.

“There,” he said softly once you were steady. “Back on solid ground. I’m very invested in you staying upright.”

He was just inches from you now, and you were wrapped in his warmth, his caramelized scent.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely steady.

“Careful,” he murmured lightly. “You’re going to make me soft.”

Your breath caught. “You didn’t have to—”

“I did,” he cut in gently.

He stepped closer, one hand sliding to your waist, grounding. “Had to make sure you were steady first.”

You blinked. “Steady for what?”

A faint, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth.

“For this.”

He leaned in. His lips brushed yours at first—testing, giving you time to pull away.

You didn’t.

The kiss deepened—slow, warm, deliberate. Like he’d been holding that line for years and had finally decided to cross it.

His hand tightened at your waist, holding you steady like he already knew your balance would waver.

And it did.

For a split second, the world tilted.

He adjusted instantly, pulling you flush against him without breaking the kiss. Like gravity itself answered to him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath warm against your lips.

“See?” he murmured. “If I’d done that in those heels, you would’ve accused me of sabotage.”

A shaky laugh slipped from you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he replied, brushing his mouth against yours again, smug and soft all at once, “you’re voluntarily in my arms.”

You hesitated.

“We should probably… go back to the dance,” you whispered.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he looked at you with those beautiful, impossibly vivid cerulean eyes of his.

Your breath caught. Your gaze slipped down to his collarbone like it always did when his eyes held yours for too long. Some things, apparently, never change.

“Mm.” The sound brushed against your lips more than it left his mouth.

His thumb traced slowly along your jaw, unhurried, thoughtful — like he was memorizing the shape of you.

Your fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Satoru, we really should—” Your voice trembled now.

He exhaled softly, amused.

“…Give me a second,” he murmured, leaning just close enough that his lips brushed yours again. “I’m recalibrating.”

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