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Sixteen-year-old Satoru Gojo blinked hard as the blinding blue hue of his Cursed Technique fizzled out. His chest heaved from the strain of the fight, but something was… off. The air didn’t smell like the battlefield he’d been standing on moments ago. Instead, it was faintly citrusy, and much too quiet.
The soft hum of an air conditioner reached his ears. His narrowed eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. A stylish apartment? Wooden floors? Framed paintings on the walls? Where was he? Was this some high-level cursed spirit’s trap? Before he could analyze further, his ears perked up at a sound—a faint giggle and hushed murmurs.
He tiptoed toward the noise, his infinity passively active just in case. As he peered around the corner, his brain short-circuited.
There, sprawled on the couch, was him. Older, with shorter hair and a grin even cockier than the one he wore now. And Utahime. Utahime Iori, the girl who called him a “man-child” at every opportunity. Except this wasn’t the scowling Utahime he knew. This Utahime looked radiant, her cheeks flushed as she leaned into… his older self for a kiss?
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Three screams filled the room, harmonizing in utter chaos. Sixteen-year-old Gojo stumbled backward, clutching the wall for support, while Gojo nearly fell off the couch, shielding Utahime instinctively.
“Who are you?!” Older Gojo’s jaw dropped.
“Who are YOU?!” Younger Gojo gawked back.
Utahime’s gaze flickered between the two of them, her expression stuck somewhere between horror and disbelief. “What… What is happening?!”
Younger Gojo pointed a shaky finger. “Are you guys…? No way. There’s no way. YOU AND HER?!”
Utahime’s face turned crimson, but Gojo’s smirk widened like a Cheshire cat. He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Yup. Not just together—married. And expecting, too.”
“Expecting what?” Younger Gojo asked before the penny dropped. His eyes bulged. “Wait—pregnant?! You got Utahime pregnant?!”
Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying this way too much. “She’s my wife, kid. It’s called consensual love.”
Utahime swatted his arm. “Stop messing with him, Satoru! He’s clearly confused—”
“Confused? I’m ELATED!” Younger Gojo interjected, his voice hitting a higher pitch. “You’re telling me I—uh, I mean we—married Utahime? The girl who constantly calls me ‘insufferable’? And I—uh, we—actually scored?!”
Utahime groaned and buried her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare.”
Gojo leaned toward her and whispered, “I don’t know, honey, he has a big fat crush on you. All that teenage hope and swagger.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though a small smile tugged at her lips
After a lengthy explanation (with interruptions from both Gojos—one smug and one incredulous), it became clear that sixteen-year-old Gojo had been flung into the future via some rogue cursed technique. Gojo scratched his chin, glancing at the clock.
“Okay, here’s the deal. Utahime and I have a doctor’s appointment, so we can’t babysit you. You’re on your own for a bit.”
“What?!” Younger Gojo exclaimed. “You’re just gonna leave me here? In… my future apartment?!”
Utahime frowned. “Satoru, we can’t just—”
“Relax, babe,” Gojo said, tossing her the car keys. “He’s me. He’ll be fine. Plus, I’ve got a whole section on time travel in the office. Right beside our bedroom. Go nuts, kid.”
“Wait, our bedroom?!” Younger Gojo repeated, his face turning red. “You share a—oh my God. I can’t—I’m—”
“Don’t think about it too hard,” Utahime cut him off, her cheeks also burning. She turned to her husband. “I don’t like this, Satoru. What if he touches something he’s not supposed to?”
“Like what?” Gojo teased. “My limited-edition sunglasses collection?”
Younger Gojo’s jaw dropped. “I still collect those?!”
Ignoring the comment, Utahime glared at her husband. “Just promise not to mess with anything!” she instructed the teen before reluctantly heading to the door. “And don’t destroy the place!”
As the door clicked shut, Younger Gojo sighed, feeling simultaneously abandoned and intrigued. The last thing Gojo said echoed in his mind: “Feel free to raid the fridge. I’ve got pictures on there you’ll love.”
Thirsty and still processing his situation, Younger Gojo made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the counter, filled it with water, and took a long gulp. But as he turned toward the fridge, the sight nearly made him spit it out.
Plastered across the fridge were photo strips of Gojo and Utahime. The one that caught his attention had them in a photo booth, looking way too cozy for his teenage brain to handle.
The first frame showed Utahime leaning into older Gojo with a shy smile while he kissed her temple. The second had her giggling as he kissed her cheek, his grin so wide it practically screamed “I’m the luckiest guy alive.” The third was a playful one—Utahime laughing with her head thrown back as Gojo tickled her sides. But the last one made Younger Gojo freeze. Utahime had her arms around Gojo’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, while his hands rested protectively on her waist.
“Holy—what is this?!” Younger Gojo blurted, staring at the photos like they held the secrets of the universe. His future self looked so… happy. And Utahime—she wasn’t glaring, scolding, or throwing insults. She was glowing.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Man… if she’s this gorgeous now, what does this mean for—nope, nope. Not going there.” Shaking his head, he tore his gaze away from the fridge and marched toward the office.
By the time the couple returned from the appointment, the apartment was eerily quiet.Gojo walked in first, scanning the room.
“Huh. Guess he figured it out,” he said nonchalantly.
Utahime looked worried. “What if he got stuck somewhere? What if he—”
“He’s fine,” Gojo reassured her, pulling her close. “He’s me, remember? A genius.”
Utahime rolled her eyes. “You can be such an asshole sometimes.”
“Ah, but you chose to love me and marry me darling.” He kissed her forehead, his grin softening. “Admit it, you miss how cute I was back then.”
She snorted. “Cute? You were an arrogant brat. Though…” A teasing smile spread across her face. “I do miss your sixteen-year-old self sometimes. You used to be so shy around me when we started dating.”
Gojo narrowed his eyes, pretending to pout. “You’re saying you like young me better?”
“Are you jealous of yourself, baby?” she teased, her tone dripping with mischief.
Without warning, he scooped her up bridal style, carrying her toward the bedroom. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”
Utahime burst into laughter, squirming in his arms. “Put me down, Satoru! You’re insane!”
“Admit it,” he said, gently tossing her onto the bed. “You think current me is hotter.”
Her giggles only intensified as he pinned her down, his hands finding the ticklish spots on her sides. “Okay, okay, stop! You’re the hottest! You’re the best Satoru!”
“That’s what I thought.” He grinned triumphantly before leaning down to kiss her, the laughter fading into something softer.