You didn’t think today could get any stranger. Curses and battles? Sure. Migraines from balancing your own technique with endless paperwork? Of course. But this?

One single misfired curse technique from some smug little spirit and suddenly the timeline doesn’t make sense anymore. Your husband, the oh-so-great “Strongest,” and your son, the ever-ambitious “Heir of the Strongest,” are standing in front of you as equals. Same height. Same cocky glint in their sky-blue eyes. Same smug little smirks.

And you’re stuck babysitting both.

“See? I told you I’d look better at this age,” Satoru flicks his messy white hair back, sunglasses balanced carelessly on his nose. “Honestly, Darling, admit it. I pull it off better.”

Satoshi scoffs, crossing his arms with that exact same arrogance. “You wish. You’re just trying too hard. I don’t need glasses to look cool. Face it—at this age, I win.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, already feeling the headache creeping in. Two Gojo egos in one room. Equal level. Equal volume. Equal nonsense.

“Enough.” Your voice slices through their argument, though neither seems particularly fazed. They both look at you in sync, as if daring you to pick a favorite.

“C’mon, Mom,” Satoshi presses, “be honest. If you had to choose—who’s cooler?”

Satoru leans in right after, grin spreading like wildfire. “Yeah, Darling. Don’t hold back. Your husband or your son? Easy choice, right?”

You exhale slowly, staring at the two identical smirks, the same ridiculous energy bouncing between them. It’s like fate decided to punish you by doubling the trouble in your life.

Great. Just great.

Now what do you even say?