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There’s a small breeze that blows through the meadow, ruffling his white hair slightly as he looks at you. The two of you are walking, the tall grass brushing against his ankles as he follows you wherever you go—just like he promised years ago.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before turning towards him with a smile so bright it rivals the sun. His heart rate picks up, blood pumping a little faster through his veins as he just takes you in for a moment. The sundress flutters around you as some of your hair moves with the wind.
Your smile hasn’t changed much since the first time he saw you over twenty years ago, the only difference being the slight smile lines around your mouth, ones you’ve gotten from him.
The necklace softly moves around your chest—a small heart pendant hanging on your sternum. Inside is a picture of the three of you, all smiling at the camera—well, your son is scowling, but that was to be expected.
He automatically closes the distance between the two of you, head tilting down just slightly to take you in even better. A small smile forms on your face as you look up at him, up at the man who you’ve once said ‘I do’ to.
‘Til death do us part’
Only, death didn’t part the two of you.
Here the two of you are, standing in a field of wildflowers that gently move in the breeze, one pair of feet trampling the long grass as the other leaves everything in tact. Your footsteps careful, constantly avoiding the pretty flowers even though you wouldn’t trample them beneath the soles of your feet anyway.
It’s so you that it makes his chest hurt a bit. His heart beats against its cage, the same way it has been doing ever since he first saw you.
Back when he entered high school, you were there right alongside him. His pretty classmate that would grow up to be his wife. Some things were inevitable, this being one of them—the two of you getting married.
You were wearing a small sundress back when you had your first date with him, almost the same one you’re wearing right now, and he’d been so stunned, jaw slack and eyes wide, that you couldn’t help but giggle, all your nerves calming down immediately.
He’d forgone his simple t-shirt, trading it for a linen shirt and brown pants. It felt foreign, seeing the normally confident boy so starstruck. That’s when you knew you would love this boy forever. And you did. Though you kind of wish your forever would take a little longer than it did.
Yes, you can still converse with your husband, still see the way he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, but you can’t touch him anymore. Your hand stopping mere millimeters from his skin, the warmth refusing to seep through your skin.
As upsetting as it is, at least you know your forever actually means forever. So does his. Choosing to stay with you despite not being able to touch you, though he still tries. Tried to manipulate his infinity in a way that he could touch you, but even The Strongest can’t do the impossible.
Well, except for seeing his dead wife, apparently.
The moment he got the phone call, he teleported to Shoko’s infirmary, frantically looking around to see you. There was a part of him that didn’t want to believe the news, clinging to the fact that this had to be some sort of cruel prank.
‘Til death do us part.’
He didn’t think that death would come so early for either of you, having pictured growing old with you. His white hair graying, skin wrinkling as the new generation would take over, relieving his burden from being The Strongest. Your (biological) kids running around in the backyard in the new house the two of you had freshly renovated.
But the look Shoko gave him told him enough. It wasn’t some sort of cruel prank, just fate messing with him once more.
Still, he clung to the fact that Yuji came back to life once—granted it was because Sukuna brought him back to life with a deal, but those were semantics his brain didn’t bother with—so surely you could do that as well. Hell, he’d been on the brink of death once, so maybe that was it, you were just on the brink of death.
That’s when he saw the white tarp on the cot, covering a body that was all too familiar to him. Even under the white sheet, he could make out the curves he spent years worshiping: the gentle slope of your nose, a stand of your hair peeking out from under it.
His knees buckled, thumping on the ground with such force, everything in the room shook for a second. Shoko came up to him, her hand coming down to his shoulder, but it stopped right before she could touch him. Infinity flared up immediately, preventing her from coming closer to him, pushing away everything that wasn’t you.
Shoko was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear anything she was saying, her voice muffled almost like Infinity filtered out her voice, preventing it from reaching him. His hands shook as he brought one of them up to the cot, trembling fingers closing around your hand over the white sheet, crinkling under his grip.
A sob tore through his chest, tears finally cascading down his cheeks. His technique surging to life without calling for it, blue energy crackling around him, Infinity surging stronger and stronger, until one of the light bulbs above cracked under the pressure. The broken glass slid down, clinking onto the white tiles below, away from you two.
Because despite not being in control over his Infinity nor Blue, he would always protect you—his Infinity wrapping around your silhouette like a blanket, keeping the two of you in a small, private bubble, away from the world.
More light bulbs cracked under pressure, cots and other medical equipment getting shoved to the walls as he sobbed his heart out.
“I’m sorry,” the whisper was so faint, he thought it came out of his own mouth—apologising for letting you get hurt while he was away, breaking his promise to always protect you from evil, even if you told him you could protect yourself. “I didn’t think our story would end so soon.”
At that, his head snapped up, eyes wide. He knew that wasn’t him, no, he would recognise his wife’s voice anywhere. So he lifted the tarp, but was met by a sight he’d have trouble scrubbing from his memory for months to come. Your skin was still pale, mouth and eyes still closed. No sign of life. Another sob wracked through him.
“Oh Satoru…”
That very much came from behind him, a voice so somber he couldn’t help but turn around. There you were, looking down at him with sadness in your eyes, hand hovering just above his head; not fully touching him.
He gasped so loud, it had literally startled Shoko who was standing outside the room, but couldn’t get in due to Infinity surging. “Sweetheart.”
That was the day Gojo Satoru found out he could see ghosts. While non-sorcerer ghosts were harder to detect, having less Cursed Energy and no Cursed Technique, you were fully visible to him whenever he didn’t have his blindfold on.
Which is why people see him walk around without his usual blindfold, the fabric no longer obstructing his eyes. You of course scolded him for never putting it on during the day, because he got headaches so great, his pretty blue eyes swelled up with tears, but even then he refused to let you out of his sight.
His pretty wife that had been taken away from him too soon.
In a way he always cursed his own eyes for seeing too much, giving him too much of a headache on a daily basis. But right now, walking through this pretty meadow with his wife, he couldn’t be more happy about them.
The golden sun rays illuminate your skin in a gentle golden light, the pendant on your neck glinting as well as the pretty ring he’s given you almost fifteen years ago, a matching one resting around his own finger.
Beautiful. That’s all he can think of. How even in death you’re still as beautiful as the day he’s met you.
There’s a small glint in your eye as your lips curl up in a small, devious smile—one that already has him suspicious of your next move. Before he can even open his mouth, you turn around and sprint away from him, your pretty dress fluttering in the wind around you, hair whipping around your face as a small laugh tumbles out of you.
The sound finally has him moving, a small ‘Hey!’ falling from his lips as he runs after you—not bothering to use any Cursed Energy or his Blue to enhance his speed, just his long legs sprinting after you—grass snapping under his boots.
And what a silly sight it is, seeing The Strongest run after something no one else can see. That’s all Megumi can think about, seeing Satoru Gojo run after air with a smile so big he has to wonder if his cheeks are going to fall off.
In a way he’s glad, of course. Megumi wasn’t there when you two met, but you have been there alongside Gojo, taking care of him and his sister ever since that fateful day twenty years ago.
How time flies.
Gojo was busy, very busy, even as a teenager. That didn’t matter much to the higher ups—the fact that Gojo was a teenager—when they sent him out on all of these missions purely because he was supposed to be The Strongest.
Which meant Gojo didn’t have much time to take care of Megumi and Tsumiki, most often leaving them alone.
That’s where you came into play.
As Gojo’s long-term girlfriend, you often came by Megumi’s place to check in on the kids; making sure they had enough to eat for the week, making dinner most of the nights as well as taking them to school whenever you could.
Of course you weren’t perfect, no one is, but you took the time to take care of two strange kids like they were your own—like you weren’t still a teenager yourself.
You couldn’t always be there with them, having to go on your own missions or just taking some time away so you and Gojo could have some alone time, but you showed up more often than not.
There was a slight shift in the dynamic when you and Gojo got married at only twenty-one years old. Tsumiki was your flower girl while Megumi was a very grumpy tiny groomsman. But even as a grumpy kid, he couldn’t deny how happy it made him to see you and Gojo so happy.
After getting wed, the four of you moved into a new house—yes, you had asked Gojo to bring the kids because you were taking care of them most of the time anyway, and of course your husband gave in to your every whim.
Whipped.
You had The Strongest wrapped around your finger, and you knew it.
Somewhere around age ten Megumi had started calling you ‘Mom’. At first it was just a slip of the tongue, a small mumble when you had been cooking dinner for the family, even taking in consideration that the Demon Dogs might’ve wanted something to eat instead of ‘Yucky curses’ for once.
Megumi had been too embarrassed back then, trying to backtrack and just call you by your name—it almost felt like calling your teacher mom or dad—but you had merely hummed and asked him if he needed anything. Not making a big deal of it, not teasing him or even asking him to repeat it. No, you just acted like this was the most normal thing there was.
And that’s how he began calling you ‘Mom’.
But seeing Gojo run around the meadow, chasing after nothing but air, makes his heart constrict a little. Because why is Gojo the only one lucky enough to still see and talk to you?
At first everyone thought he had gone mental, talking about you—to you—like you were still there, smiling at mere air as if you were standing there. Hell, there were even times where he would randomly give a small kiss to nothing at all and chuckle afterward.
Yeah, that was a sight to see.
People had begged him to see someone to talk to, even if it was just confiding in any of them. But Gojo had vehemently tried to tell everyone you were still there, they just couldn’t see you any longer.
Ghosts. It was never something Megumi believed in, but as more time passed, him getting out of his house more often, he started to realise that Gojo might not be as crazy as everyone thought he was.
There were… things Gojo knew that he shouldn’t have known. And of course you could’ve confided in your husband, told him about all these small things that happened between you and Megumi, but you just weren’t like that. If Megumi asked you to keep something between the two of you, you would.
So, maybe Gojo wasn’t as crazy, as grief-stricken as they thought. No, you were still there, just in a plane of existence only The Strongest could see with his special eyes. Even his Demon Dog couldn’t sense you any longer, which absolutely sucked.
It grieved, just like everyone else. Everyone except for Gojo Satoru, who could still see his wife walk around as if she were alive.
The dynamic was weird. While being a sorcerer meant you could lose your life at any given moment, it still didn’t take away from the fact that you were his mother. The one who has always taken care of him every since he was younger.
So Megumi grieved, much longer than he did anyone else. At the same time, Gojo just pranced around, wide smile on his face while he talked to air, fingers brushing against nothing as he whispered something, bending down to your height.
It had made Megumi angry—angry at the fact that Gojo wouldn’t let him grieve in the way he needed, because there would always be some sort of quip coming from Gojo’s mouth that didn’t sound anything like the man himself, but rather like you were telling him something.
Hurt. Megumi felt hurt that you wouldn’t be able to talk to him anymore, only getting to convey messages through your husband. The same husband that’s chasing after his wife, sun casting the world in a shade of gold.
But it also makes him so incredibly happy that you’re at least still somewhat here, even if he couldn’t look at you anymore.
So he walks towards Gojo, his Demon Dog by his side, as he goes to say hi—to the both of you.