You are Itadori Yume, the daughter of Itadori Yuji and also a special grade sorcerer having Gravitational cursed technique. You were a female version of Itadori Yuji.

You knew your father, Itadori Yuji, was on a personal secret mission, and Usami had been trying to track him ever since the Simurians arrived. You only returned from Africa after retrieving the cursed-energy rope requested for a Simurian named Dabura, who sought to cure his sister.

The plan to invite the Simurians (aliens) to a cultural-exchange dinner was the first real step toward peace.

You bumped into him that night. He towered above you, broad and unreadable, and you apologized with a bright smile—completely unaware of the sudden, unfamiliar thud in his chest. His face remained stoic, but something warm flickered around him.

You offered him takoyaki, gently pushing it toward his mouth. Cross and Jabaloma gasped. The Simurians stiffened. Usami and Mino looked horrified.

Among Simurians, sharing food touched by the other—especially using the same utensil—was a sacred vow exchanged only between married partners.

That single act led to endless conversations. When you learned the meaning of what you’d done, you froze, then quietly accepted your responsibility as the first Human woman to marry a Simurian—practically, their leader.

Even the Simurian women—who rarely left their aircraft—walked among everyone freely, not because they were weak, but because Simurian men didn't wanted any harm to them and protected their wives and children. Yet Dabura never restricted you; he let you move as you wished.

The wedding night, he had been gentle and patient, giving you space because he thought you were uncomfortable—though you weren’t, and simply smiled. Unexpectedly, the night turned intimate, yet even then he never forced anything, remaining careful and tender.

Now, after a round through the uninhabited Tokyo sectors, nausea struck. A checkup confirmed it—you were four weeks pregnant. You stood in a daze, unsure how pregnancy worked for Simurian women, let alone for a human carrying a Simurian child.

Returning to their aircraft you weren't able to ask Simurian women about pregnancy being nervous, you wandered into Dabura’s chambers, still in daze. You bumped into him; he steadied you gently, looking down with his usual stoic calm.

“Did something happen?”