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Everyone says: “Oh, Satoru is head over heels in love with Itadori Yuuji, he’s completely crazy about her.” But no one seems to notice—or no one dares say it out loud—that Yuuji is just as hopelessly gone for him. You only have to see the way she looks at him. The way she gives in to absolutely every single one of his whims without even blinking. Yuuji can’t say no to Satoru Gojo. Plain and simple, she just can’t.
And of course, he takes shameless advantage of that with the happiest grin imaginable.
He gives her those big puppy-dog eyes, tilts his head, and Yuuji clicks her tongue, rolls her eyes… but ends up giving in in under ten seconds. Always. Because how are you supposed to say no to the love of your life? In what universe would she ever be capable of denying him anything?
To the misfortune of everyone around them (and the luck of absolutely no one else), Satoru Gojo wants more children.
The man seems to have a fucking breeding problem. Or maybe he just loves seeing Yuuji pregnant. Or both. Does anyone really care? No.
The higher-ups of the Gojo clan are in ecstasy. Finally more heirs from the guy they swore would never settle down, never have a wife or kids. And overnight: boom. First a perfect set of twins. Eleven months later—eleven damn months—another perfect set of twin girls. The clan practically sends them congratulatory cards every Christmas.
On an ordinary day at the mansion (which Satoru bought just for them, because a regular estate felt “too small” and Yuuji called him exaggerated until she gave in), he’s sitting in the garden watching his family like it’s the most beautiful show on the planet.
Hikaru and Ren, the six-year-old firstborns, are such an exact copy of Satoru it’s almost scary. The same electric blue eyes, snow-white hair, even the same nose shape. Satoru had secretly prayed they’d inherit Yuuji’s button nose; they would’ve been even more adorable. But no. The only thing that slipped through from mom’s genes were those sparse freckles scattered across their little faces like tiny constellations, just like hers. They’re perfect. Absurdly perfect.
The twins run around like maniacs on the improvised soccer field Satoru had built (because “my kids need space to become the strongest”). They yell, shove each other, laugh at the top of their lungs. Pure energy inherited from Satoru.
And then there are the girls.
Yuna and Himari. Another pair. Because of course—why settle for less? Satoru is convinced the heavens blessed him until he was sick of it. How else do you explain ending up married to Yuuji? His Yuuji: beautiful, warm, kind, loyal, funny, patient (beyond human limits), with that laugh that’s made his heart race since the day he met her. He could keep listing adjectives until sunrise, but he stops because he’d never finish.
The girls are another miracle. Yuna is almost identical to him: very long white hair, intense blue eyes, and that arrogant smile Satoru has worn since the day he was born. You can already tell she’s going to be the worst of the four. The queen of chaos.
Himari, on the other hand, is where Yuuji’s genes fought tooth and nail. Hair in a soft blend of his pinkish-white and Yuuji’s brown, her mother’s warm amber eyes, that adorable button nose, and cheeks covered in soft freckles. Right now she’s laughing hysterically because a butterfly landed on her forehead and refuses to leave.
Satoru frantically pats his pockets. Where the fuck is his phone? He needs a picture. Right now.
We’ve already established that Satoru was blessed by the heavens. It was also obvious he wouldn’t be a normal human being fathering children one at a time in his wife’s womb. No, god, he’s not that pathetic.
And Yuuji took it so well. Like everything Satoru could ever give her.
He knows it was hard for his little wife, the pregnancy, obviously. Her sixteen-year-old body—still not fully developed, still carrying that teenage sweetness—got hit with the bombshell surprise: pregnant with twins. Oops! Satoru had taken his early birthday present… and what a present.
But even so, Yuuji’s body adapted to carry their children. She fought the symptoms like a champion (they were intense, very intense; it wasn’t one baby, it was two). Those 3 a.m. cravings for impossible combinations—pistachio ice cream with kimchi, spicy ramen with chocolate, or that time she asked Satoru for a finger of Sukuna dipped in powdered sugar—Satoru remembers them as pivotal moments of his life. He’d run out to get whatever it was, at any hour, just to see her smile through the nausea.
Those fights over mood swings always ended the same way: Satoru on his knees in front of Yuuji, apologizing for being an asshole, tears in his eyes because he hated seeing her suffer because of him.
And Yuuji’s body… god. It changed in ways that drove him insane. Wider hips, thick pale thighs he’d swear he’d die kissing. Her breasts grew two sizes (and he wasn’t complaining). But the most beautiful thing in the world was that pregnant belly: big, round, just enough room for two children to grow inside. Satoru cried with happiness every time Yuuji wore those loose summer dresses; they made her look like a Greek goddess, ethereal and powerful.
He still remembers it like it was yesterday. Shit, he’d erase every damn memory he has just to relive that single moment over and over.
His little secret girlfriend walking toward him with unsteady steps, red eyes from crying so much, plush lips swollen from nervously biting them, flushed cheeks that made those constellation-like moles stand out even more. Yuuji barely saw him before she started sobbing, terrified and guilty, completely lost about what to do. She apologized for being so careless, told him her period was three weeks late, and handed him one of those cheap drugstore tests between hiccups and snot.
As if Satoru himself hadn’t been pumping inside her for the entire last month with only one thought in his head: “mine, mine, mine.”
Everyone was right: Satoru isn’t a good person. Sometimes no. Sometimes yes.
But he calmed her down. He swore eternal loyalty, promised her an entire world together. To hell with everyone else. All he cared about was Yuuji.
And right in the middle of all that perfection, the realization hits him like lightning: he wants more children.
He gets up from the garden chair, walks to the kitchen with determined steps, and finds Yuuji preparing the afternoon snack. Freshly baked banana bread, everyone’s favorite. Satoru had to learn to share it with his kids (not every battle is won).
He hugs her from behind, wraps his long arms around her waist, and rests his chin on her shoulder.
“I want more kids,” he says without warning.
Yuuji freezes. She looks out the window toward the garden, where the four little ones are running and shouting. Two full minutes of silence. Satoru’s pout grows and grows until it looks like he’s about to explode.
“Yuu, my love, please…” he whines, draping himself over her like a giant child, still not indecent, just dramatic. “Look at them. They’re perfect. Just one more. One. Pretty please…”
Yuuji rolls her eyes and lets out a huff. That same huff she’s been letting out for seven years every time she’s about to give in.
She loves him. Loves him with her whole chest. She knows Satoru grew up in suffocating loneliness in the Gojo estate, surrounded by people who only saw his power and never him. That’s why she can’t deny him a family. Not when he looks at her like she’s the entire universe.
“Just don’t complain when I insult you during my mood swings, got it?” she warns seriously, pointing the batter-covered spatula at him.
Satoru lets out a victorious squeal and hugs her tighter.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll be patient… But sometimes you’re so mean… Last time you made me cry…”
“I just called you a fucking idiot.”
“And a coward, pathetic, childish… You accused me of not loving you just because we ran out of strawberry ice cream…”
Yuuji covers his mouth with her hand.
“I’m already regretting saying yes.”
“Nooo, wait!”
No one was surprised when, a few weeks later, Yuuji—at twenty-two years old—announced her third pregnancy.
Satoru Gojo only asks for one thing in his next life: that it be exactly the same as this one.
Yuuji’s husband.
The father of her children.
Nothing more. Nothing less.