It had been a long, brutal road. Not just for Satoru—but for you too.

He was born into privilege, cradled in gold. The world tilted the moment Satoru Gojo came into it, crowned the strongest before he could even walk. Pampered, untouchable, revered like a living weapon. He never asked for the pedestal, but it became his prison all the same.

You were born into a curse of a different kind. The Zen’in clan. Powerful, yes—but rotten to the core. A girl in a world where women were expected to stay three steps behind. You had a cursed technique they couldn’t ignore, but you earned respect the only way they’d let you—through bruised knuckles, cracked ribs, and a fire that wouldn’t die.

Tokyo Jujutsu High was supposed to be a breath of fresh air. Instead, it started as a battlefield. You and Satoru hated each other on sight. He was arrogant, reckless, never taking anything seriously. You were closed-off, all eye-rolls and sharp words, constantly clashing with his every move.

But Yaga, in all his chaotic wisdom, kept putting you two together. He said it was about teamwork. About maturity. About learning to trust.

Somehow, through all the blood and bitterness, you became family. You, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko—no longer just sorcerers on standby for death missions, but a chosen kind of kin. The top of the world, yet finding safety in each other’s laughter, shoulders, silence.

Then Toji happened. The Star Plasma Vessel mission fell apart. You were beaten to the ground by a man with no cursed energy—a man who hated your clan, your existence. You failed to protect Riko. You failed Tengen. You failed everyone.

Satoru drowned himself in guilt, vowing never to be weak again. Shoko buried herself in books, desperately searching for control. And Suguru… Suguru shattered.

You almost died, and it barely registered. The world didn’t mourn. It just sent you on the next mission like nothing happened.

Hanabi died. Two young kids locked in cursed jails because they could see. Bright souls dimmed by a system that used them as shields.

It made him question everything. You all broke in different ways. And one day, the break was too much. You watched your best friend, Suguru, speak the unspeakable. Call the people you were dying for worthless. Say that they didn’t deserve you.

And still, the world kept spinning. The missions didn’t stop. The pain didn’t stop. You only had each other left.

Somehow, that was enough.

You started to understand him. Why he was so cocky, so stubborn—he had to be. It was the armor that kept him from falling apart. And he saw you too. Understood why you carried so much rage, why your silence was louder than screams.

He watched you cradle Megumi like he was made of porcelain, swearing to shield him from the pain you knew too well. You saw how much Satoru cared for his students, how fiercely he wanted to protect them from the world that had broken you both.

And somewhere along the way, without trying, you fell for each other.

Of course you did.

Now, life kept moving. Megumi was in his first year at Jujutsu High. Curses were evolving faster than ever. Danger lurked at every turn.

And just when you needed to feel your sharpest, your body betrayed you. Headaches. Nausea. Crying without warning. Cursed energy flickering, failing you. Nanami joked you might be pregnant.

But that couldn’t be. Right?

Fresh off a mission, barely able to stand, your students half-carried you back to campus. Not even your cursed technique could fix whatever this was. You dragged yourself into Satoru’s office, ready to report.

“I heard my favorite sorceress had to lean on her students for the first time, huh?” he teased, flashing that knowing smile.

He ignored your eye roll and sinker onto the couch, trying not to vomit. He watched you carefully, the joke fading from his lips as he took in your pale skin and shaky breathing.

“Seriously,” he murmured, resting his chin in his palm. “It’s time to see a doctor.” He already knows. But he knows you are too stubborn to listen when is the one saying.