Part 1 – The End of the Strongest

The battlefield reeked of blood, smoke, and burning cursed energy. Rubble stretched as far as Gojo’s Six Eyes could see, shattered temples and broken streets painting the aftermath of his endless clash with Sukuna. His body ached, skin burned with deep lacerations, yet his grin never faltered.

“Damn,” Gojo muttered, tasting iron as blood slid down the corner of his lips. “You really are one tough bastard.”

Across from him, Sukuna towered, skin marked by tattoos glowing with malicious curse energy. He looked battered, but his aura still burned like an eternal flame. “You should feel honored, Satoru. Not many get to push me this far. But…” His smile stretched, fangs glinting. “…this is the end.”

Gojo’s laugh was airy, almost soft. His vision blurred, and his legs trembled. He knew. He had reached his limit. “Guess even the strongest has a deadline.”

His thoughts flashed — Yuuji, Megumi, his students, their bright faces. And somewhere deeper, buried under layers of jokes and arrogance, a shadowed memory: Suguru. The best friend he had failed, the man he couldn’t save. That wound still ached sharper than Sukuna’s blows.

“Would’ve been nice to tell you properly, huh, Suguru?” Gojo whispered, voice nearly lost in the chaos. “That I never stopped…”

Sukuna’s cursed energy roared. Gojo barely registered the slash tearing through him, his body splitting with an explosion of pain before everything turned white.

For the first time in years, silence followed. His body crumpled, his heartbeat fading.

So this is it, Gojo thought as darkness swallowed him whole. Guess my story ends here.

But instead of nothingness, warmth spread across his senses. A gentle pull, like sinking into water yet floating at the same time.

When he opened his eyes, Gojo found himself standing in a quiet field bathed in sunset light. Grass swayed lazily in the wind, and the air smelled clean, untouched by battle. His wounds were gone, his clothes unscathed.

“…Well, this isn’t hell. Too green for that.”

“Always with the jokes, even at the edge of eternity.”

Gojo stiffened. That voice — it was deep, commanding, but carried a familiarity he couldn’t mistake. Slowly, he turned, and his eyes widened behind his blindfold.

An older man stood before him, tall, dignified, hair tied back in white strands that gleamed under the fading light. His posture, his aura — unmistakably Gojo’s bloodline.

“…Grandpa?” Gojo muttered, blinking.

The man chuckled softly. “You’ve grown, Satoru. And you lived up to your title — the strongest of your generation.”

Gojo’s lips twisted into a smirk, though his chest tightened. “Didn’t feel like it at the end. Sukuna sure didn’t send me off gently.”

“Strength is not measured only in victory,” his grandfather replied, stepping closer. His eyes — the same piercing clarity of the Six Eyes — studied him with warmth. “Sometimes, it’s in the choices we make after loss.”

Gojo tilted his head, suspicion flickering. “After loss? I thought I was done. Isn’t this the part where I go… wherever sorcerers go when they’re kaput?”

The older man smiled faintly, shaking his head. “That depends on you. I’m here to offer you a path. A chance.”

Gojo’s smirk faltered. “…A chance? You mean like, reincarnation?”

“A rebirth,” his grandfather confirmed. “Not in this world, but another. A place where fate is… kinder. Where the regrets you carry might find healing.”

Gojo froze, his usual easy arrogance slipping. His regrets… Suguru’s face surged up again in his mind, sharp and clear, as if mocking him. The friend he lost, the life that slipped through his fingers.

He swallowed. “You’re saying I get to… redo things? Save him?”

“Not redo,” the man corrected gently. “But live. Another world, another self. You may find what you’ve lost, or you may find something new. But it is yours to choose.”

Gojo fell silent, staring at the endless horizon. His chest twisted painfully. He hated goodbyes. He hated endings. And yet here was a crack in the wall of finality, a door he hadn’t expected.

Of course, he couldn’t resist poking fun even at this solemn moment. He huffed a laugh. “So, what? I get to spin the gacha of the multiverse? You sure you’re not scamming me, old man?”

His grandfather’s lips quirked. “Always irreverent. No scam. Only choice.”

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the grass under his feet. “…Fine. But make it fun. If I wake up as a worm or something, I’m suing.”

The man chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

And just like that, light engulfed Gojo once more — warm, overwhelming, pulling him forward into the unknown.

✨ End of Part 1

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hiii! Guys. I am author Freya. This my first story i hope you guys enjoy it and please don't copy my work

Gojo woke to the sound of birdsong. Not crows. Not screams or explosions or the roar of cursed energy tearing the air apart.

The sheets beneath him were soft, the kind of silk that whispered against his skin, and the room smelled faintly of sandalwood and… lavender?

His first thought was simple, blunt: What the hell.

Slowly, he cracked open one eye — no blood, no battlefield. Instead, he was staring up at a high ceiling painted with elegant swirls, a chandelier glittering faintly in morning sunlight. To his right, the wide curtains were drawn back, spilling light over a king-sized bed.

And then his gaze shifted.

Someone lay curled beside him, breathing evenly. Long black hair spread across the pillow, features soft in sleep, lips parted faintly.

Gojo’s heart nearly stopped.

“...Suguru?” he whispered.

The man stirred faintly but didn’t wake. The sight was surreal. Suguru Geto — alive, not scarred by curses, not twisted by pain. Just… here. Warm. Breathing.

Before Gojo could process it, there was a sudden thump, followed by the pitter-patter of small feet.

“Daddy!!”

The blanket lifted, and two tiny figures scrambled onto the bed. One had silky black hair that caught the sunlight, sapphire eyes shining like a mirror of Gojo’s own. The other had snowy white hair, tousled and fluffy, with warm brown eyes full of mischief.

They launched themselves straight at him.

“Daddy, you’re awake!”

“Papa said you were sleeping in again!”

Gojo froze as both children clung to him like he was their whole world. His arms moved on instinct, scooping them close. And it felt… natural. Too natural, like his body remembered even though his mind screamed this was impossible.

“…Okay,” he muttered to himself, “I either hit my head too hard, or this is some really elaborate genjutsu.”

“Gen… what?” the black-haired boy tilted his head, blinking.

Gojo stared down at him, at those eyes that mirrored his Six Eyes but without the curse, without the weight. His throat tightened unexpectedly.

“…Nothing, kiddo.”

The bed shifted, and Gojo turned. Suguru was sitting up now, hair falling over his shoulder, hand absently resting on the swell of his belly. That’s when Gojo noticed — he wasn’t just alive. He was pregnant.

Very pregnant.

Gojo’s jaw dropped.

“Morning,” Suguru said calmly, voice still husky from sleep. “You’ve got bedhead.”

“Morning—morning!?” Gojo sputtered, staring between Suguru, the kids, and the obvious curve of his stomach. “Wait. WHAT. Why—how—what—??”

Suguru blinked at him like he’d gone insane. “…Are you okay, Satoru?”

“Am I okay? You’re— We’re— There are—” Gojo pointed wildly. “THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE CALLING ME DADDY!”

The kids giggled like this was the funniest thing in the world. Suguru just sighed, rubbing his temple. “You’re loud in the morning. Did you forget you’re the CEO now? You’ve got meetings in two hours.”

Gojo froze mid-flail. “…CEO?”

“Yes. Of your grandfather’s company. Or have you forgotten that too?” Suguru’s tone was teasing but laced with curiosity. He studied Gojo’s expression closely.

Gojo opened his mouth, then shut it. His grandfather’s words from the afterlife echoed: “Not this world, but another. A place where fate is kinder.”

So this was it. His rebirth. Not a sorcerer’s battlefield, not endless blood and curses — but an omegaverse world where he was a husband, a father… and apparently running a corporation.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Gojo muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Grandpa really threw me into hard mode domestic DLC.”

Suguru tilted his head, amused. “What nonsense are you mumbling?”

Before Gojo could answer, the black-haired boy tugged at his sleeve. “Daddy, are you coming to breakfast?”

The white-haired one chimed in, “Papa made pancakes!”

Gojo looked between them, then back at Suguru, who was watching him with that calm, steady gaze that had always both grounded and haunted him. His chest squeezed tight.

Maybe he didn’t understand this world yet. Maybe his brain was scrambled from dying. But one thing was clear: here, Suguru was alive. Here, there was family.

And Gojo… wasn’t sure if he deserved it.

Still, with his usual cocky grin plastered back on, he scooped up both kids and hopped off the bed. “Alright, let’s go demolish those pancakes before Papa eats them all.”

Suguru chuckled softly behind him, hand still resting on his belly, eyes lingering on Gojo with something unreadable.

✨ End of Episode 1 (Part 2).

The kitchen was far too cozy for Gojo’s brain to process. Morning light streamed through large windows, glinting off the polished counters. A stack of pancakes sat steaming on the table, and the scent of butter and syrup filled the air.

The kids scrambled into their chairs, chattering non-stop. The black-haired boy — Satoru, he vaguely remembered hearing Suguru call him — stabbed at his pancakes with exaggerated seriousness, while the white-haired one — Suguru, a smaller mirror of his husband’s name — was already licking syrup from his fingers.

Gojo stood there, frozen. His brain screamed, This isn’t real. No way this is real.

Suguru, clearly used to his spacing out, slid a plate in front of him. “Eat before it gets cold. You’ve got a board meeting today, remember?”

Gojo blinked at the plate, then at Suguru. “Board… meeting?”

“Yes, board meeting,” Suguru said flatly, as though this was routine. He poured tea with a calm grace that made Gojo’s chest ache. “You’re the CEO of Gojo Enterprises. Did you hit your head somewhere?”

Gojo opened his mouth, then shut it. He had been the strongest sorcerer, the man who bore the weight of the Jujutsu world. Now, apparently, he was… a corporate man in a tailored suit. His brain couldn’t compute.

“Boardroom, not battlefield. Guess Grandpa really downgraded me,” he muttered, stabbing his pancake.

Suguru raised a brow. “Downgraded? You say that now, but let’s see you handle toddlers, shareholders, and a pregnant spouse all in one day.”

The words “pregnant spouse” slammed into Gojo’s chest like Sukuna’s final strike. His gaze dropped unconsciously to Suguru’s rounded stomach. It was so real. He could almost feel the life inside it.

In my world, I lost him. Here… he’s alive. He’s carrying our child.

Gojo’s fork trembled.

“Daddy?” a small voice tugged him back. Satoru, the black-haired boy, tilted his head, blue eyes blinking up at him. “Why are you crying?”

Gojo froze, hand flying to his cheek. Sure enough, a tear had slipped out. He hadn’t even noticed.

He forced his trademark grin. “Crying? Pfft, don’t be silly. Daddy doesn’t cry. Daddy just—uh—sweats from his eyes sometimes.”

Both kids giggled at that, their laughter bubbling like sunlight. Even Suguru smiled faintly, though his gaze lingered on Gojo, sharp and searching, as if he sensed something deeper.

Gojo wolfed down a few pancakes, mostly to keep his hands busy. But his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. He had always carried his regrets like invisible chains, never letting anyone see the weight. Yet here, with the warmth of this table, the sound of children’s laughter, and Suguru alive across from him… the chains ached more than ever.

After breakfast, chaos erupted. Satoru smeared jam on his sleeve, Suguru Jr. tried to feed the family cat syrup, and Gojo found himself juggling all of it like he’d done this for years. His body moved naturally — wiping faces, scolding gently, kissing foreheads.

And that scared him more than any curse ever had.

---

By the time he managed to get dressed, Gojo was staring at himself in the mirror of a walk-in closet that could rival small apartments. Instead of his sorcerer uniform, he wore a tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, silk tie knotted perfectly. He looked every inch the CEO.

Yet behind the polished look, he still saw the man who had fallen to Sukuna. The man who had lost Suguru once.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his spiral. Suguru leaned against the frame, arms folded. Even with his belly rounding forward, he was graceful, his eyes sharp.

“You look good,” Suguru said simply.

Gojo gave a mock spin. “What can I say? Suits were wasted on me in my last life.”

“Last life?” Suguru raised a brow.

Gojo froze, realizing his slip. “Uh—figure of speech! You know me, always dramatic.”

Suguru studied him for a long moment, then shook his head with a sigh. “Just don’t forget — you’re not just a CEO. You’re also a father. Don’t get lost in boardrooms and neglect the kids.”

Gojo’s chest squeezed painfully. He wanted to say, I already neglected too much once. Instead, he plastered on his grin. “Relax, Suguru. I’m a multitasking genius. Kids, company, keeping you glowing — I’ll handle it all.”

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled faintly as he turned away.

As Gojo adjusted his tie, his reflection stared back at him. For the first time, he whispered to himself:

“…Can I really do this?”

---

The chauffeured car pulled up outside, sleek and black. Gojo slid into the backseat, waving as the kids pressed their faces to the window, Suguru standing behind them with one hand resting protectively on his stomach.

As the car pulled away, Gojo leaned back against the seat, eyes closing. His grandfather’s words echoed again: “You may find what you’ve lost, or you may find something new.”

Maybe he hadn’t been given a second chance to fight. Maybe he’d been given a second chance to live.

The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

---

✨ End of Episode 1

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I hope you guys enjoy it