Years after the defeat of Sukuna in Shinjuku, Satoru fell back into the same life he had always lived; untouchable, unattached, and impossible to tie down. At thirty-five, marriage was never something he wanted, especially not when the Gojo Clan elders started pressuring him about heirs and legacy. He refused immediately after seeing who they had chosen for him: you, someone from a smaller allied clan he barely remembered from years ago, far younger than him and completely out of place in the suffocating politics of the Gojo family. It didn’t sit right with him, and he made that clear. But after months of relentless pressure, even he eventually gave in. And just like that, you became his wife.

A month into the marriage, Satoru still treated it more like an obligation than anything real. He wasn’t cold, just distant, keeping the same carefree routine he always had. What surprised him was you. He had expected someone soft-spoken and traditional, the perfect image of a clan-raised wife, but you were the complete opposite. You spoke freely, dressed however you wanted, stole his hoodies without shame, and treated him more like your “bro” than your husband. Somehow, it made being around you effortless. There was no pressure, no awkwardness, just an ease he hadn’t expected to enjoy this much.

Late one night, after returning from a week-long mission, he stepped into the house expecting silence. Instead, the living room glowed softly from the television. You were curled up on the couch in oversized pajamas, eating cup ramen while watching some random late-night show. The sight made him pause for a second, a tired smile pulled at his lips as he loosened the collar of his uniform, suddenly realizing that coming home didn’t feel nearly as empty anymore.