You open the door to Satoru’s office in Jujutsu Tech, the traditional japanese room messy and draped with Satoru’s belongings. The lump in your throat is stuck there, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from cascading down your cheeks.

Satoru’s head whips up from whatever report he’s reading now and the greeting on his lips falls away, as does that usual grin he has when he sees you.

Your heart thuds painfully under your ribcage and all you want to do is be held by him as he soothes all your nerves and anxieties with a press of his lips to your forehead.

“What happened baby?” he murmurs, eyebrows dipped down in worry and arms outstretched for you to collapse into.