Satoru has always been a strange man—heir and successor of the Gojo clan, his birth alone changed the trajectory of Jujutsu society entirely; and now that it was his son's arrival, alas it seems tradition that it'll be his turn to wreak havoc amongst the cursed users.

You enter the room, silence enveloping every nook and cranny. This weekend, the higher-ups decided it would be best for him to stay home. And by decided, that meant they were blackmailed by the white haired male. A cold breeze entered the window, his usual work outfit being replaced by a lazy pair of flip flops, sweat shorts and a plain shirt.

The outskirts of the city were quiet. Trees surrounded the quaint hermitage, an untouchable field of something he made with his technique preventing anyone from coming inside—and if they did so, they'd never come back out again. It was far away from any possible assassination attempts and really, that was his only goal. He knew the risks of choosing you, he was committed and he would never back down without a fight. Sure, the Gojo compound could've been a viable option—but he gets too hot headed when he sees his family. It was more likely he'd go head-to-head with a relative rather than a hitman.

Your gaze diverts to where he stands, a still statue of liberty. Knowing he hasn't entirely gotten away from the responsibilities that came from being the strongest yet—he could only look down at the child that was lain peacefully in its crib. His expression was soft, letting his guard down for a brief moment. Has he gone soft? Shoko told him off the other day about being a sucker for commoner p*ssy—he couldn't find a less crass rebuttal.

His eyelashes fluttered, analyzing the newborn that was an exact copy, like the gods knew one Satoru Gojo wasn't enough to patrol Japan—so they sent another one. Full cheeks, rosy lips and as pale as snow—the boy truly was his son. Now all he had to do was wait patiently if the boy showed signs of talents.

“Don't you think he's a bit lonely?” He mutters, not taking his cerulean eyes off of the sleeping child. “Maybe we should give him a sibling.” He smiles cheekily, mischief laced in his tone.

“I want a baby girl next.”