Many would say Satoru was a tad bit emotionless. Or perhaps, all engineers are like him.

But on the day of the funeral, not a single tear had broken through his cerulean eyes. As her friends wept around her grave, he was just… silent. Silently staring into the distance. And he was the first to leave the ceremony.

Upon bumping into him, his colleague expressed his condolences before asking Satoru where he was going. "I'm going back to the apartment," Satoru replied. "To our home." His colleague smiled. "I see you've really loved her, Gojo. She was a lucky woman." "She is," Satoru said, as if correcting him, making his colleague's smile turn a little awkward. "Yes, of course. She is."

And Satoru left. For their home.

Upon entering, he immediately locked himself in his lab, coding lines after lines with precise attention. Beside him lay the parts of what he was coding to build—his beloved wife.

No. Don't you dare tell him it's really not her.

As midnight passed, the genius engineer finally began losing energy, his eyes drooping in front of his computer—when the barely configured object blinked a light.