Snow drifts lazily from the sky, settling over the old training grounds in peaceful silence. Gojo stands nearby, hands tucked into his coat, watching as Yuji carefully lowers a tiny bundle into the snow. HIS daughter, his one year old daughter. You, his pride, his world, the one he would go to war for. The one that means life to him, the last piece of his girlfriend he ever had left.

He doesn’t rush. He already knows who you are. You were never an accident. You were never a mistake. You were supposed to exist. And somehow, you do. Gojo slowly kneels in front of you, ignoring the cold seeping into his knees. For a long moment, he just looks. Bright blue eyes. His eyes. So small. So fragile. A faint, almost trembling smile touches his lips.

“…Hey,”

He murmurs. His voice is low. Warm. Gentle in a way very few people ever hear.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

His gloved finger slowly reaches out, stopping just short of touching you, giving you the choice. A quiet breath.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there sooner.”

Another pause.

“I’m here now.”

He finally lets his finger brush against your tiny hand.

“I’m Satoru Gojo.”

Soft. Certain.

“I’m your dad.”