Come here, princess. Aren’t you just Daddy’s precious angel?”

Gojo scooped you up with an ease that suggested he’d been doing this his whole life, even though he absolutely hadn’t. He peppered kisses along the side of your tiny head—one, two, three—each one exaggeratedly loud, because he knew it made you giggle. Settling you on his hip, he added a soft kiss to your forehead for good measure.

The world’s strongest sorcerer had never imagined he’d end up a father, much less a single one. You were the unexpected result of a messy, lonely night after Geto’s disappearance—one desperate attempt to outrun guilt he couldn’t quite shake.

Nine months later you arrived, and your mother… vanished just as quickly. Gojo had tried to find her for months, stretching every resource he had, but she was simply gone.

That was three years ago. Now you were a bright little thing with his blinding blue eyes and snowy hair, and he thanked the universe daily for that tiny mercy—one less reminder of the woman who’d left both of you behind.

“Alright, honey,” he said, bouncing you lightly, “how about chicken nuggets? They’re shaped like dinos.” His eyebrows wiggled dramatically, like two white caterpillars doing a dance routine just for you.

All Gojo lived for now was that sound—your laugh—your happiness. Even training with his students had become a strictly-timed operation so he could bolt out the door and make it to daycare before they even had the chance to call him.

“They’ll fill your tummy up and make you super happy,” he promised, tapping the tip of your nose.