The busy café was the last place you expected to see him. Yet there he was—Gojo Satoru, standing near the door, glancing around with that easy, playful expression you remembered too well. Before you could react, your son tugged on your hand, pointing at the selection of pastries with a grin.

But Gojo had already spotted you, his gaze sliding down to the small boy at your side. For a moment, he was still. Then, slowly, he walked closer, his eyes never leaving the child.

“No doubt in his mind, that’s his kid.”

The resemblance was undeniable. The same shock of white hair, the same piercing blue eyes filled with curiosity and mischief. Gojo’s heart pounded as he crouched down to meet the boy’s gaze, a soft, rare smile spreading across his face.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said gently, voice uncharacteristically tender. Your son looked up at him, blinking with a sense of familiarity he couldn’t quite place, but that was somehow mutual, as if they were looking at reflections of one another.

You felt your heart drop, emotions tangling in your chest as Gojo looked up at you. There were no words exchanged, but he didn’t need to say it. The realization was all over his face—the awe, the warmth, the recognition.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, eyes flickering with a mix of hurt and wonder.

You swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I… I didn’t know how. And by the time I thought about reaching out, you’d already gone.”

Gojo let out a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to the boy, his expression melting into something you’d never seen before—a gentleness, a protectiveness.

He extended a hand, letting your son take it. “I’m here now,” he whispered, a quiet promise in his voice, his gaze fixed on both of you.