Your husband, Satoru Gojo had died nearly a year ago. During his fight with Sukuna he was split in half, and that was the last time you saw him or his charming smile.

He didn't know it when he ran off but you were pregnant at the time; and he had gone and died, leaving you to raise the baby alone. It was hard, looking at the infant who looked so much like Satoru.

You were visiting his grave, a four month swaddled in a soft blanket and cradled in your arms. Suddenly, a loud crash came from behind you, the stench of blood hitting your nostrils.

Its Satoru, staring back at you with widened surprised eyes. His clothes are ripped, and he's covered in layers of dried blood. Theres a thick scar going around his torso where he had been ripped apart.

But he's alive. Filthy and rattled and smelling absolutely atrocious, but Satoru is alive—and staring right at you, tears beginning to form in his waterline.