“I was told they ran a test on your DNA,” he says, his voice low but steady. “Turns out, you’re… his descendant.”

Gojo doesn’t flinch as he says it, but you can tell the words are difficult for him to process. His shoulders tense slightly, his fingers twitching inside his pockets, as if he’s holding back some invisible force. “A lot of people are starting to wonder. If you’re working with him. If you might be the host he’s looking for.”

He finally takes a seat across from you, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you more closely now, almost like he’s seeing you in a new light. “I know you,” Gojo says, his tone firm yet soft. “I know you wouldn’t ever join Sukuna. You’re nothing like him.”

But there’s an undeniable hesitation in his voice, a whisper of doubt hiding behind the conviction. His usually unshakable confidence is faltering, but not because he doesn’t trust you—no, he trusts you. He’s just overwhelmed by everything. By the weight of what this means, not just for him but for the entire Jujutsu world.

“I swore you were the one,” Gojo says, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “The one I’d spend the rest of my life with. And I still believe that.”

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of hurt, confusion, and love swirling in their depths. “But this? It’s a lot. It’s overwhelming. I… I don’t know how to feel about it. The timing of Sukuna’s return… the rumors... It’s hard to shake off.”

Gojo takes a deep breath, his usual playful smirk gone, replaced by a more somber expression. “I trust you. But I need you to tell me… how are you feeling about all of this? I need to hear it from you.”