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“To be the father of growing daughters is to understand something of what Yeats evokes with his imperishable phrase 'terrible beauty.' Nothing can make one so happily exhilarated or so frightened: it's a solid lesson in the limitations of self to realize that your heart is running around inside someone else's body. It also makes me quite astonishingly calm at the thought of death: I know whom I would die to protect and I also understand that nobody but a lugubrious serf can possibly wish for a father who never goes away.”
- Hitch 22: A Memoir
*
Gojo threw the door open, the bang echoing throughout the classroom, and demanded, “Where’s my little princess?”
The following loud squeal of delight alone would’ve been enough to make his heart jump in excitement, even if it hadn’t been accompanied by a powerful wave of cursed energy. He swept into the room, spotting a flash of white hair bobbing between the desks, and darted forward, easily jumping over a row in order to sweep up the child that was attempting to hide in between. The little girl shrieked, damn near bursting his ear drums with Infinity lowered, but then quickly maneuvered her body in order to wrap her arms around his neck.
“There she is,” Gojo hummed warmly.
“Daddy!” the little girl warbled, her voice muffled by the way she pressed her face into his shoulder.
His heart constricted, seizing in his chest painfully before slowly releasing. A lovely warmth spread throughout his body as he clung to his daughter, wrapping his arms around her small body in a way that he’d never been able to imagine before. Kazuya had only been like this in the worst of his throes while dealing with the onset of his innate cursed techniques, clinging to him and sobbing in pain. It had never felt entirely good, though he knew it wasn’t his son’s fault.
Nami was different. She was warm and spirited and full of adoration. When she looked at Gojo, it was like she was gazing at the moon, bright-eyed and full of wonder. She had never experienced the hardships that Kazuya had while Gojo and Utahime were more or less forcibly separated by jujutsu society and the higher-ups. He was her daddy, and she loved him with all her heart, never once faulting him for his mistakes. He called for her, and she ran to him. She was too much like him already, he knew, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed.
Not as she clung to him, not as her heart beat steadily against his, not as her cursed energy swarmed around him just like Utahime’s did.
“And how are you today?” Gojo asked, twisting side-to-side with her.
Nami pulled away just enough to look him in the face. “Good! Happy birthday!”
A smile threatened to cross his face. “Is it my birthday?”
“Yes!” Nami exclaimed. “Mommy said so!”
Gojo glanced aside to wink at Utahime, who was organizing papers at her desk. “Did she now? Did you get me a present for my birthday?”
“Mommy said you need a kick in the butt!”
Utahime coughed, taken aback by the fact that their four-year-old had managed to remember her likely muttering such a thing under her breath, but Gojo could only laugh. They’d gone through quite a bit over the past twenty or so years, and especially the last eight, but some things would never change. He liked that. The world needed a bit of consistency to keep it from flying off the handle, as it threatened to do so often. Utahime would always get annoyed with him, and he would always be, well, annoying. He needed someone to keep him in line, after all.
Nami leaned forward to whisper in his ear, conspiratorial yet still too loud, “I got you something else.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Gojo said graciously, once more fighting the urge to smile.
Beaming with pride, Nami rocked back in his arms and asked, “Are you staying?”
Gojo’s expression softened, full of more genuine warmth than he could’ve anticipated. “I am, baby, I am.”
“Yay!” Nami wiggled in his arms, a sign that she wanted to be put down. “I’m gonna tell Kazu!”
Upon setting her back down on her feet, Nami bolted out of the classroom, not giving either of her parents a moment to tell her otherwise. Utahime sucked in the nervous breath that Gojo felt in his gut, but they didn’t stop her, not when they heard her chatting with a familiar voice in the hallway.
“How’s Miwa doing, by the way?” Gojo asked conversationally.
Utahime smiled. “Good. She’s a natural at teaching.”
Kasami Miwa being the new first year teacher came in handy when Utahime was forced to bring Kazuya and Nami with her to the school. Gakuganji could’ve called her out on it, but the two kids had become some sort of symbol of jujutsu society, their status as Gojo’s children offering them some sort of status. Both kids had become staples at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools, the students and staff fawning over them and stepping up to help take care of them without even being asked.
“And it helps that the kids know and adore her,” Utahime added.
Gojo strolled to the front of the classroom, his fingers brushing over the tops of desks. “Where is Kazuya anyway?”
“He had a migraine so I let him go take a nap,” Utahime admitted, pausing in her ministrations. “The sunglasses help, but he keeps taking them off.” She sighed and leaned against the side of the desk. “He was trying to push the limits of Limitless, and it became too much for him.”
“Only seven and already so stubborn,” Gojo hummed thoughtfully. “He must’ve got that from you.”
Utahime scowled. “As if you aren’t–”
Gojo jumped forward, capturing her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers. When she responded to his kiss immediately, his lips curled up into a smile, and he had to pull back to keep her from biting him. “I missed you too.”
“It’s only been a day,” Utahime pointed out, even as she wrapped her arms around him and rested against his chest. He liked the feel of her in his arms – how familiar it was and how good it felt each time. It was easier now. Years ago, they wouldn’t have done anything like this with the door to her classroom open and the blinds drawn. He still wished she’d transfer to Tokyo to be further away from the higher-ups’ grasp, but she had her own life, and he was just a part of it.
But that was it though, wasn’t it? He was a part of her life, and Nami and Kazuya were a part of theirs. It was a small, seemingly inconsequential thing that had changed his world once he’d realized it.
As if sensing his drifting thoughts, Utahime touched his face. “Go on and find them. We’ve still got plenty of time to celebrate your big day.” Gojo grinned and kissed her again, playfully nuzzling his nose against hers. “And don’t let Kazuya fool you! He’s very excited to spend your big day with you.”
Gojo parted from Utahime with a little reluctance, but he’d be able to see her later tonight once classes were over. He had admittedly shirked his duties today, sticking his students with classroom lessons while he more or less took the day off. They would’ve complained if not for the fact that they knew that he was spending the day with his kids and would likely bring them on campus with him. They handled teleportation better than Utahime, Kazuya not even blinking and Nami giggling excitedly each time.
It didn’t take him long to find the room where Kazuya had gone to take a nap. The light was on, Nami probably having flicked the switch upon her arrival. He stopped outside for a minute, listening to his children talk. As usual, Nami was the louder of the two, babbling as only a four-year-old could, only half-intelligible to anyone that didn’t know her. Fortunately, her brother, Kazuya, seemed to have a grasp on his little sister’s language. He sat on a futon, rubbing at his bright blue eyes, while listening to her patiently.
He was a good brother, Gojo thought. It wasn’t easy dealing with a kid like Nami, if only because Gojo knew that he himself had been a difficult child to manage. But Kazuya adored her, protected her, loved her, and she loved him in return. Whenever his techniques got the better of him, she’d cuddle up next to him to take a nap while Utahime sang a soothing lullaby to ease the pain. Things were getting better as he grew stronger, easier for him to manage, but he was pushing himself too. Gojo could remember the years he’d done the same thing to himself.
The second he opened the door, Nami bounded to her feet. “See! Daddy’s here! I told you!”
A smile twitched onto Gojo’s face. “Hey, kiddo.”
Kazuya was not nearly as open or warm as Nami. He was reserved and kind of moody, if Gojo was being honest. It was a defense mechanism, of course, something he’d learned from Utahime. His distant nature hurt Gojo more than he’d anticipated, sort of reminding him of his strained relationship with his own parents, but he knew, as Utahime often told him, that his son loved him. Things were getting better, especially now that they were living together as an actual family. The months he’d spent living with Gojo while dealing with the onset of his techniques had helped as well, but he was still, well, a mama’s boy.
Gojo couldn’t blame him for that.
Still, Gojo tried not to let his son’s tight-lipped nature get the best of him. “You ready for a fun day?”
“It’s Daddy’s birthday!” Nami exclaimed.
“Yeah, I guess,” Kazuya mumbled.
Picking Nami up again, he nuzzled her nose the same as he’d done with Utahime and kissed her on the forehead. She giggled sweetly, her mismatched-colored eyes flashing brightly. Both of their children were a strange mix of them, but it showed more so in Nami, with one amber eye and one blue eye along with the black strand in her white hair. Utahime blamed it on his genes, which Gojo was more than happy to play up to tease her.
“Go get your coat and tell Mommy goodbye,” Gojo told her.
Nami kicked her feet in the air. “Okay!”
It had been akin to pulling teeth to get Kazuya to go alone with him at her age, but Nami was a daddy’s girl, which Gojo admittedly relished. He loved how much Nami adored him, taking a sense of relief in it, even if it meant dealing with her climbing into their bed in the middle of the night so she could crawl into his space. It was strange. He’d kept people at bay for almost his entire life with Infinity, but now as a father, he had to let that guard down in order to let his kids in. He’d never been so familiar and used to physical touch in his life.
As soon as he set her down, Nami once again ran out of the room, an endless source of energy. It had taken a lot of time before either of them were comfortable allowing their children out of sight, but Nami was more stubborn than her brother. It would be hell to keep an eye on her as she got older. Gojo was already dreading when it was time for her to attend sorcery school; he knew damn well that she’d drive him up a wall.
Kazuya was a different story. Though he was only seven, he’d already gone through a lot. Gojo couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed terribly as a father in many aspects, even though Utahime reassured him that he hadn’t. Even Shoko had told him to give himself the benefit of the doubt. No one was a perfect parent, no one the perfect father, and with Kazuya, he often felt like he was stumbling around in the dark.
Stepping further into the room, Gojo asked, “You feeling okay, bud?”
With a nod, Kazuya mumbled, “Yeah.”
The room was dimly lit, likely having been plunged into darkness before Nami burst into the room to wake him up, but much like Gojo, his blue eyes seemed to shine. Gojo had taken his blindfold off before he burst into Utahime’s classroom, wanting to see them without any barriers. Kazuya looked at his eyes now. He was starting to understand things better now, seeing signs for what they were and the world for what it was. Already the pressures of jujutsu society were becoming more apparent to him, something Gojo had hoped to shield him from.
But being Gojo Satoru’s child, especially his firstborn son, came with a lot of unavoidable baggage.
Upon sensing Kazuya’s hesitance, Gojo tried not to allow any disappointment to bleed into his voice. “You feeling up to spending the day with us today?”
He’d said us instead of me for a reason, knowing that Kazuya did not like to make Nami sad. Maybe it was a little manipulative of him, especially with his own child, but Gojo also selfishly wanted to spend the day with both his kids. Seeing as how he was still considered the strongest sorcerer of their time, teaching in Tokyo and taking on difficult missions throughout the world, he didn’t get full days like this often. He’d missed so much time when Kazuya was little, so many small but important moments slipping through his fingers, but he didn’t want to miss out anymore. He wanted it all .
“It’s your birthday,” Kazuya pointed out, though he didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it.
Gojo smiled gently. “It is, but if you’re not feeling good, you can stay with your mom.”
Kazuya fidgeted on the mat, dropping his eyes to the floor. No, there was something else to this. There was more than just Kazuya’s standard desire to stick close to Utahime. Gojo liked to believe that things were getting better between them, but his son was already a little difficult to read. He kept things close to the vest, sometimes not even telling his mother what he was thinking or how he felt. She had said that he was excited to spend the day with him, so why was he hesitating?
Crouching down to his son’s level, Gojo asked, “What’s up?”
After a few seconds of squirming uncomfortably, Kazuya admitted, “The principal talked to Mom today.”
A flash of irritation swept over Gojo, but he held it in, waiting for the other shoe to drop before reacting. “Ah, that old grouch Gakuganji.”
One of the few things that Gojo and Kazuya could agree on was that they did not care for the higher-ups. Gakuganji might have gotten somewhat better over the past few years, taking on a more considerate role where Utahime and her children were concerned, but Gojo had no love for him and still harbored a nasty grudge against him. He was the reason Yaga was dead, after all, and had nearly gotten Utahime killed as well during her pregnancy, even if he’d also had a hand in keeping her safe too. While he was a child and couldn’t possibly understand the politics of jujutsu society, Kazuya was sensitive to people’s behavior and their cursed energy, and he’d decided very quickly that he did not like them.
“What did he want?” Gojo asked, careful to keep his voice careless.
“Um, he said that Mom is…under review?” Kazuya answered, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember. “Mom sent me outside to play with Nami so they could talk alone.” But he’d hung outside the door to listen anyway, always ready to protect his mother and sister. “I don’t like him. He makes Mom sad sometimes.”
“I don’t like him either,” Gojo agreed, “but it’ll be okay.” He reached out to ruffle Kazuya’s hair, putting a smile on his face. “Sorcerers have to take tests every few years to see how strong they are – you know, to figure out what grade they are. Your mom hasn’t had a review in a while, so I guess they want to check it again.”
“You don’t,” Kazuya pointed out.
Gojo pointed a thumb at himself. “That’s because I’m the strongest.”
“But why does Mom have to take the test again?” Kazuya pressed.
With a sigh, Gojo admitted, “I don’t know. She doesn’t need to take one, but sometimes, the higher-ups like to be difficult for no reason because they’re assholes.”
A smile flickered across Kazuya’s face. Utahime would no doubt scold Gojo if she heard him swearing in front of their kids – which was hilarious since she had an even fouler mouth than him when angered – but their mutual contempt for the higher-ups was common ground for Gojo and Kazuya. Plus, he wasn’t lying. As an established sorcerer and teacher, Utahime did not need to be assessed again, especially when she had finally been promoted to first grade a few years ago, but it was as if they liked to dangle that promotion in front of her, threatening to take it away should they see it fit.
“She’ll be okay,” Gojo reassured him. “She’s tough, and we know how strong she is.” Kazuya nodded, trusting him blindly in a way that only a child could their parents. It relieved Gojo more than he could admit. “But if you want to stay with her just in case, you can.”
“No, I–” Kazuya clenched his hands into fists and sheepishly admitted, “I wanna go with you. It’s your birthday .”
“And you know what that means, don’t you?” Gojo prompted, leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner.
A little grin appeared on Kazuya’s face, equally sneaky. “Dessert.”
“Yup, lots of dessert!” Gojo cheered.
Utahime would disparage over it later, but he was more than willing to deal with two sugar-crazed kids on his own. After all, he had the same amount of energy so it worked out. By the time he brought them back home, they’d be ready to crash for the night and he could spend some proper alone birthday time with her. She wouldn’t argue with him then.
Gojo patted Kazuya on the head. “Go get ready then. We can say goodbye to your mom together.”
Kazuya threw his blanket off, fumbling for his sunglasses before putting them on. They were almost identical to the ones Gojo had worn as a teenager, circular and dark, though not as intensely tinted. He needed them to be just enough to dim the world around him, both the lights and cursed energy, and so they had been specially made to protect him. He was at least more careful with them than Gojo had been with his.
However, before he left the room, Kazuya paused and turned around to throw his arms around Gojo’s shoulder. It caught him off guard, so much so that he rocked backwards on the balls of his feet, but then he quickly recovered to return the hug, closing his eyes as he soaked in the attention. Whereas Nami was very clingy and craved attention, demanding to be held or to hold his hand, Kazuya was reserved and guarded, sometimes using the brief amount of Infinity he could use to his advantage. Gojo had learned to respect that, but he also welcomed every chance that they could both let their guards down around each other.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” Kazuya told him, arms tightly wrapped around his neck. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah,” Gojo breathed out. “Me too, kid, me too.”
If someone had told him ten years ago that he’d be happy to simply spend the day goofing around with his kids for his birthday, he would have cackled in their face. One, he had no intention of having a kid, and two, that sounded like such a bore. But fuck if he wasn’t happy now – damn if it didn’t feel good to have his son hugging him and his daughter yelling for him to carry her around. He could feel his son’s cursed energy, so similar to his own, pulsing strongly in the air, and his daughter’s voice carrying hers like Utahime’s did.
It was perfect, and it was his, the most simple and best birthday gift he could ask for.