Chapter Text
Six years later.
You lazily flex your toes as you stretch your legs on the park bench.
The late spring sun warmed your shoulders, and a pleasant breeze kissed your pink cheeks. It was by all accounts a perfect start to your weekend. Easy to just shut your eyes and soak in the gentle heat.
When you draw in a long breath, you let it out slowly, savoring how your body had the chance to relax and be seated for once.
"Babe! Are you watching?"
You straighten your head and open your eyes to find the tuft of white hair you love so much crouched before the yellow twisting slide on the playground, arms outstretched and ready to catch the identical head of white hair that zoomed its way down.
"Mommy, mommy, look!"
"I see you, baby," you call back to your son, clapping as he very bravely used the 'big boy' slide for the first time.
Satoru snatched the child into his arms the moment his tiny feet reached the end of the slide, and quickly stood to spin him about in the air.
He's never been prouder.
Except for that time when your son took his first steps.
Or perhaps the moment he cut his cantaloupe without needing assistance.
No, there was also when he charmed the mochi vendor into throwing in an extra sweet 'for Papa'.
Every new experience your son had made Satoru prouder than the next.
And his bright smile reflected it.
It took some time for both of your smiles to be that easy and genuine again -- tooka lotof time to move past bad habits and old trauma.
But the nice thing was,a lotof time felt more like several months, perhaps a year or two, now.
And aftera lotof time, you and Satoru figured out what worked for your relationship.
It wasn't easy. You both still bickered, occasionally fought, and on rare instances had days where grief and guilt still crept their way out.
You learned that trauma isn't something you can 'get over' -- move beyond, sure, but it would always be a part of you in the end, an immutable memory grafted into your DNA.
As if a reflection of your entire relationship, the ways you and Satoru figured out how to move beyond the horrors of Shibuya and the prison realm and the void after were near opposites.
On certain nights when the darkness became too all-consuming, you still clung to Satoru for support. And without a word, he would hold you, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin on the top of your head, reminding you that you were safe.
He would do that for you, because he loved you more than anything in the world.
And because you loved him more than anything in the world, you obliged the way he chose to heal, even if it was the opposite of what you wanted.
Because in his hardest moments when he felt overwhelmed, Satoru just wanted space -- time alone to be by himself, where no one could ask or expect anything of him. And that was okay, because no matter what, he always came back to you.
You had learned that just because he did things contrary to how you would didn't inherently make it wrong -- the two of you accepted that after some time that in some regards, your methods were simply different.
Opposites attract, or some bullsh*t, one of you had said once.
It took time, but you figured that out.
Time to adjust to living together.
Even if you were often apart for missions, school functions, or just needing space for your relationship to process things. The space never weakened your love -- if anything, especially for Satoru, it strengthened it.
Because you made good on your promise in the prison realm.
After a firm discussion with Gakuganji, Satoru was at last allowed to take a vacation.
You didn't go with him. That wasn't what was needed.
Satoru just needed space to simplyexist --no pressure, no expectations, no one to take care of but himself.
And when he took that first two-week-long trip, you stayed behind to ensure any threats on a major scale could be dealt with safely.
Time to adjust to marriage.
You did travel together once -- for your honeymoon.
It wasn't long after your reconciliation that Satoru proposed. He had apparently planned some lavish proposal, had intended to take you to the top of the tallest skyscraper in Tokyo where champagne and a violinist would be there waiting for you both.
Instead, he asked you to marry him the moment he got the solitaire diamond ring from the jewelers.
Fancy plans be damned; he needed you as his wifenow.
But being married didn't preclude your relationship from tension or arguments. When things got rough, though, you had vowed to give what the other needed, regardless of if it made sense to you or not. When the pressure felt overwhelming, Satoru would take some time to be on his own for the afternoon, the weekend, a trip abroad perhaps. And he found that when you were at your most stressed, simply sitting with you on the bathroom floor and wrapping you in his arms is what grounded you most. Neither one of you ever acknowledged that it seemed like you were recreating snippets of your time in the prison realm for comfort. Trauma worked in mysterious ways, and he would never judge you for finding what helped you specifically.
Time to adjust to parenthood.
The only stretch of time Satoru refused to leave your side was when you were pregnant.
Barely a year into your marriage, you had quietly approached Satoru asking if his views on children had changed since the prison realm, if he had any interest in becoming a father soon, if he might--
You didn't get the chance to finish your well-prepared monologue on how you were ready for motherhood before Satoru had grabbed the back of your neck and greedily kissed you.
His movements were urgent and passionate when he threw you over his shoulder and carried you to the bedroom, your giggles echoing down the hall after you.
He made love to you that night more intensely than he ever had in the infinite amount of times the two of you had physically connected. And when you had finished coming for the seventh, eighth, ninth time in a row, he lazy traced patterns over your lower abdomen, as if somehow over the course of the last four hours you could have gotten pregnant from one of the many times he had poured himself into you.
Finding a balance between going on missions, fulfilling a marriage, and raising a newborn wasdefinitelyan adjustment.
But even so, Satoru smiled and laughed through every hiccup and bump in the road -- and because of all you'd gone through, you truly believed he was content and happy with his life, even after six years of being together.
Satoru loved his son, more than anything in the world.
The boy was a near mirror image of himself, after all.
Same white hair. Same winning grin. Same angled nose.
He had every signature trait from his Gojo lineage -- except for the eyes.
His son had youreyes.
And Satoru thanks God for that every day.
Because your son would never have to know what it's like to fight cursed spirits, would never have to know what it's like to see every atom and molecule that was wrapped into cursed energy.
Your son didn't inherit Limitless or the Six Eyes ability from him.
Your son would also never have to know what it's like to accidentally make something the opposite of what it is, because he didn't inherit Inverse from you either.
In fact, your son didn't inherit any cursed technique. Doesn't even have a drop of cursed energy in him.
"Hey, babe," Satoru says, holding the tiny hand of his miniature version. "Ready to get back? Megumi and Haru should be waiting for us by now."
You let out a grateful sigh and stand up from the wooden bench.
"Uncle 'Gumi's coming over?" your son asks in that small, excitable voice of his.
"Yes, hunny, just to see you!" you reply, and take his other hand. Satoru and you share a loving look before swinging the boy to and fro as you left the park.
And even though your son was decidedly normal, the two of you couldn't be happier for him.
Because the life your son has is the one you had dreamed of for yourselves all those years ago in the prison realm.
He'll never know violence. He'll never know loss or tragedy the way in which Satoru and you had grown accustomed.
Unlike the two of you, bound by obligation and duty, your son would never be stuck in the world of Jujutsu.
And for that, you were infinitely grateful.
