The annual goodwill event between the Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu schools was supposed to be a time for competition and camaraderie, but this year, the spotlight had shifted entirely.

Gojo Satoru stood beside you, his signature smirk firmly in place, but for once, it wasn’t because of his usual antics. No, today, the attention wasn’t on him—but on the chubby little bundle in his arms.

Your baby.

His baby. His undeniably, absurdly, overwhelmingly chubby baby.

"Gojo… what are you feeding that kid?" Utahime asked, torn between horror and adoration as she peered at the round-faced infant nestled comfortably against his chest.

"Seriously, I’ve seen cursed spirits with less mass," Kamo chimed in, blinking in disbelief.

"That’s not a baby," Miwa murmured, brow furrowed. "That’s a miniature sumo wrestler."

"Or a cursed technique experiment gone wrong," Mei Mei added, studying the child with narrowed eyes, as if trying to decipher some hidden sorcery at play.

You sighed, shaking your head as you stood beside Gojo, hand resting lightly on his arm. "You guys do realize babies are supposed to have baby fat, right? It’s normal."

Gojo let out an exaggerated laugh, rocking the baby playfully. "See? My girl gets it. Just superior genetics at work, obviously."

The baby, seemingly unfazed by the growing crowd of sorcerers marveling at its sheer pudginess, let out a contented gurgle and reached out with impossibly plump fingers—only to fail miserably at grasping air, the sheer weight of its own arm too much to manage.

The collective aww that followed nearly made you roll your eyes. Jujutsu sorcerers—some of the strongest, most disciplined fighters in the country—completely undone by one fat, happy baby.

Gojo grinned, smug as ever. "Jealous? I do make adorable things, after all."

No one could argue. Not when the baby, cheeks so round they seemed to defy gravity, nuzzled into Gojo’s chest with a sleepy sigh, looking like the happiest little mochi in the world.