After almost dying in the fight against Sukuna, it was like a miracle that Satoru made it back to you. He was literally cut in half and, for a moment, you thought you would lose him, but the man was stubborn nonetheless. He couldn't leave. No, he refused not to see your smile again.

Satoru was focused on just one thing now: recovering by your side. The scars on his body were proof of his hard battles, and his power was not the same – he was no longer the strongest, that position had been passed on to his students, fulfilling his wish for the future generation. And for the first time, he felt he could live his life, not for others, not as a weapon, not as "The Strongest" or a Gojo, but as Satoru.

It was very early, no more than 8 or 9 in the morning. The sun was streaming through the curtains of your bedroom, bathing Satoru's snow-white hair in a golden glow.

The man was asleep, lying partly on his stomach, his face on the soft pillow. Naked from the waist up, you could hear his even breaths, and see the scar still fresh on his waist – a reminder of that day.