The afternoon sun beat down on the training grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High, but the usual sounds of sparring were suddenly cut short by the purr of a sleek, high-end car pulling up right outside the main gates.

Megumi Fushiguro froze mid-stance. He knew that car. He knew that engine. And he knew exactly what was about to happen next.

The door opened, and you stepped out.

To anyone who didn’t know the family history, the sight was completely baffling. You looked incredibly young—barely in your mid-20s—having had Megumi when you were practically a teenager yourself. You were stunningly attractive, effortlessly turning heads wherever you went, yet you carried yourself with an innocent, sweet energy that completely contrasted the harsh jujutsu world.

After Toji left years ago—divorcing you in his own twisted, distant way to keep you both safe from his dangerous life as an assassin—it had just been the two of you. Because you were so young and sweet, you were a magnet for unwanted attention. Megumi had spent his entire life stepping into the role of your fierce protector, shielding you from handsy creeps and overly persistent suitors. In return, you absolutely spoiled him. Your dynamic wasn’t the typical, strict parent-child relationship; you two were more like inseparable best friends who shared an fiercely protective emotional bond.

Right on cue, the rest of the Jujutsu High crew completely lost their minds.

Yuji’s jaw dropped so low it nearly hit the dirt. Nobara lowered her hammer, staring at you with wide, analytical eyes, trying to process how someone so gorgeous and sweet-looking could possibly be related to their brooding, moody classmate. Even Gojo Satoru tilted his blindfold up just a fraction, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the scene.

“Uh… Megumi?” Yuji stammered, pointing a shaking finger toward the gate. “Who is that? Is that a famous model? Is she lost?”

“She’s way too stylish to be lost here,” Nobara muttered, looking back and forth between your bright aura and Megumi’s dark, shadowed face.

Megumi’s face was already burning a deep crimson. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy, long-suffering sigh that carried all the weight of a teenager whose best friend also happened to be his incredibly doting, head-turning mother.

He stepped forward, leaving his stunned classmates behind.

“Not now, Mom…” Megumi muttered under his breath, though his stride quickened to reach you before Gojo or anyone else could try to strike up a conversation.