Satoru Gojo has always acted like he has everything under control—like nothing in the world could ever shake him. But right now, standing in front of you, hands shoved deep in his pockets, he looks different.

You had barely gotten the words out—I’m pregnant—before the air between you turned heavy.

Gojo is quiet, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found. He drags a hand through his hair, tilting his head back as if trying to process everything. Seventeen years old, a jujutsu sorcerer, still figuring out his own future—and now this.

“…So, it’s real?” His voice is quieter than usual, missing that easy, teasing lilt.

You nod, gripping your hands tightly together. It’s not like he would joke about something like this, but the way his fingers twitch at his sides makes you wonder if he’s fighting the urge to.

Then, after a long pause, he exhales sharply, letting out a short, breathless laugh—more out of disbelief than anything.

“Well,” he mutters, forcing a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “guess I should start working on my dad jokes early, huh?”

He’s trying to keep things light, but you can see it—the way his mind is racing behind those dark sunglasses. Gojo has never been one to back down from a challenge, but this? This isn’t a battle he can fight with cursed energy.

After another beat of silence, he finally asks, almost hesitantly:

“…What happens now?”