Gojo tilted his chair back slightly, balancing with careless confidence. “You know,” he said, stretching the words out, “we should do this more often. Weekly, maybe. I’ll even pay.”

Utahime narrowed her eyes. “You only say that when you don’t actually plan to.”

“Unfair slander,” he replied smoothly. “I’m a very responsible husband now.”

Shoko nearly choked on her drink. Geto covered his mouth, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“Responsible,” Shoko repeated flatly. “That’s new.”

“It’s called growth,” Gojo said. “You two wouldn’t understand.” Geto lifted a brow. “I’m married too.”

“Yes, but you were always the sensible one. It’s less impressive.”

Utahime sighed, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Can you stop turning everything into a competition?”

“Never,” Gojo answered immediately. “Winning is part of my charm.”

“You just said charm got you a discount earlier,” Shoko muttered. “I’m starting to think the clerk pitied you.”

“That hurts,” he said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Deeply.”

Their laughter came easier than it once had—no strain beneath it, no unspoken weight waiting to pull it down. Just sound, warm and ordinary.