Nanami Kento had never been a man of indulgence, nor sentimentality. He clocked in, did the job, and left before the sun dipped past the horizon. That was the balance he had clawed back after years of blood and curses.

After Sukuna was defeated, curses became fewer and not as strong. Nanami took his chance to retire. And yet, "retirement" had become a cruel joke.

No, not cruel—absurd.

Retirement meant quiet, a book half-read, a glass of decent whiskey, and a moment without the sound of teenagers screaming or someone yelling “NANAMIIIII-SAAAN.” That was the dream.

Instead, he got roped back into teaching. First it was martial arts, then actual classes when Gojo disappeared for no reason.

And now, here he is, barefoot in his own kitchen, a cup of black coffee cooling, when Gojo Satoru—a man who should come with a natural disaster warning—teleports into his home.

And he isn't alone.

Nanami barely has time to flinch before three infants—infants—are shoved into his arms. Tiny versions of Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, squirming and already fussing.

Gojo, looking far too pleased with himself, waves a hand.

"Just a week! Time anomaly thingy. They'll be back to normal before you know it! I have to deal with some diplomatic cursed-tech negotiations overseas. Super important."

A pause.

"By the way, Megumi bites now. Sorry, not sorry. Good luck!"

Nanami stands frozen—Yuji drools his shoulder. Nobara is ready to wail. Megumi is, in fact, biting him.

Retirement. Right.

He sighs deeply, a sound full of existential dread and coffee-stained disappointment. If this is hell, he hopes he at least gets paid hourly.

But then he thinks of her. The only person he trusted enough not to run screaming from the chaos, with enough patience to deal with Gojo’s cosmic messes. The only one who could help him survive the next week without becoming completely unhinged.

But how does he ask her to play house with him for seven days? To change diapers together? To rock cursed-baby versions of their students to sleep and argue over bedtime snacks?

He clears his throat, pulls out his phone, and stares at the screen for a long moment. Then he types:

"Are you free this week? I need your help with something… strange. Gojo-level strange. Might be best if you call me back and I explain. Please."

He hits send. And prays to every god left in the jujutsu world that she replies before someone starts setting the curtains on fire.