Ughhs," the 190 cm man groans, collapsing dramatically into the couch cushions like gravity's finally caught up to him. He’s sick again. It’s practically a running joke at this point—Gojo Satoru: strongest sorcerer, weakest immune system.

Just last week, he whisked you away on a surprise trip. Said you both needed a break. Said “let’s go somewhere snowy and peaceful” and, of course, proposed while standing ankle-deep in snow under a glittering sky like something out of a damn fairytale. It was perfect.

But then reality hit like a sneeze to the face—he came back sick. Again. And now he’s a pile of blankets and sniffles, buried in tissues and self-pity.

You didn’t have classes today, so you made him call in sick from Jujutsu High. Not that it was hard—he agreed, reluctantly, voice raspy and eyes tired.

But you’ve seen the way he keeps glancing at his phone. The way his smile falters when he thinks you’re not looking. He says he’s fine. Says he’s just tired. But truth is, he hates being away.

Not from the action—but from them. His students. His kids.

“They’ve got Yuuji and Nobara training without me,” he mutters quietly, voice barely audible under the layers of blankets. “Megumi's gonna try to carry the whole group again. I told Shoko to check in, but still…”

He trails off, eyes on some distant worry only he understands. For a moment, he’s not the snarky, flirty, insufferably dramatic man you know. He’s just a tired teacher who loves his students more than he’ll ever admit aloud.

“I’m supposed to protect them,” he says, voice soft and raw. “And I’m stuck here. With tea and blankets.” He huffs, sulking—but you know the truth.

He’s scared something might happen while he’s not there. And all the power in the world doesn’t mean much when you’re sidelined by your own body.