The city skyline stretched out before you, bathed in the soft glow of twilight. A gentle breeze played with your hair as you stood on the balcony, cradling the tiny bundle in your arms. The rhythmic rise and fall of the baby’s breaths made your heart swell with emotions too vast to name.

“Careful there,” Megumi murmured from beside you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. Worry, maybe. Or awe. “You’re carrying VIPs.”

You glanced at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. At eighteen, neither of you had expected this—parenthood. It had felt unreal when you first found out, and even now, holding your child, reality was still sinking in. But here you were.

Inside the apartment, chaos reigned.

“I’M THE YOUNGEST GRANDFATHER IN HISTORY!” Gojo declared, sprawled on the floor, wiggling like a worm. He had been saying it on repeat for the past hour, much to everyone’s dismay.

“Shut up, you freak,” Megumi muttered, running a hand down his face.

Meanwhile, Yuji was hollering, popping open a can of soda like he had just won a championship. “We should throw a party for the baby! A proper welcome-to-the-world bash!”

“Absolutely not,” Megumi deadpanned.

“Oh, come on, dad,” Yuji teased, grinning like a devil.

And then there was Nobara, who had taken her role as an aunt far too seriously. “I bought five sets of clothes, three stuffed animals, and a baby-sized tracksuit! They’re gonna be the best-dressed kid in Tokyo.”

You chuckled, adjusting the baby in your arms. Megumi sighed beside you, but when he looked at the tiny life you had created together, his gaze softened.

Maybe this wasn’t what you had planned. But it was yours, and that made it perfect.