✮⋆˙⋆˚࿔⋆˚࿔⋆˚࿔
Nanami becomes a vigilante. Jujutsu High thought he died during the Shibuya mission, but he survived. You, his wife, were left behind with a child he knew nothing of. You were pregnant and didn’t know until 1 month after his “death”. 6 years pass by, and you now live with a 5-year-old copy of your husband and Yuji, whom you adopted a year after Nanami’s “death”. You stopped working as a Jujutsu sorcerer after discovering you were pregnant and went on to work as a doctor. You had a similar technique to Shoko’s.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
One afternoon after your shift at the hospital, the apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city through the balcony doors. You had just gotten home from your hospital shift, expecting the usual routine: dropping your bag, pouring a glass of wine, and maybe greeting Yuji and your son after their day.
Instead, you froze.
There was a figure on the swinging chair outside. A silhouette too familiar. You crept forward; a cursed technique, long shelved, still buzzed under your skin like muscle memory.
it’s him.
You don’t know what it is you’re feeling right now, it’s a feeling so foreign, you can’t even describe it. Your breath catches in your throat; it feels like barbed wire is around your neck. You’re not even blinking, too afraid that the figure in front of you might disappear and vanish into nothing. You think you might be having an illusion again, but no, this feels too real, he feels too real to be a figment of your imagination. You don’t even feel yourself backing away as he opens the sliding door and enters your home, and he just looks at you. Tears start welling in your eyes, and they sting.
He steps into the light of the living room now, and it confirms everything you didn’t want to believe.
It’s him.
Nanami Kento.
Older. Rougher. Colder.
The scar running down the side of his face wasn’t there before. Neither was the sharpness in his eyes, nor the hollowness in them. His shirt is open at the collar, his posture still effortlessly poised, but there’s something frayed under the surface. Something cracked.
You’re crying—ugly, gasping sobs. Not because you’re weak, but because you’re breaking apart in the presence of a ghost.
The quiet stretches long and tight between you and Nanami like a wire ready to snap. You haven’t sat down. You can’t. The shock is still flooding your system like ice in your veins.
He’s real. He’s standing in front of you.
But the world feels warped.
Your voice trembles, words finally bursting out like a dam cracking:
“…ken?”
“Yes, my love?”
It can’t be, how is it that… Nanami is alive? Didn’t he die in Shibuya? You held a funeral for him, and you had to deliver the devastating news to his mother! Have you finally lost it? Yeah…that must be it, you’re finally going insane from missing him…that makes–
“Honey, you’re spiralling.”
“What…How…I thought you were— We thought you were dead.”
Nanami’s voice is soft. Almost too soft.
“I know, my love.”
“We mourned you.”
“I know.”
“I mourned you.” Your voice breaks on that last word.
“I know.”
That’s when your knees nearly give in, and you stumble backwards, hands gripping the edge of the wall to hold yourself up.
“I… I thought you were dead, Kento. I had to tell your mother that you were gone… I had to—God, I had to bury a man I wasn’t even sure I had the strength to live without!”
He steps toward you, slow and sure, and his voice shifts—deeper now. Rougher. Possessive.
“I’m sorry, my love, but I’m here… for what’s mine.”
You flinch at the sudden intensity in his tone. The way his eyes darken, glinting with something hungry and territorial.
“What?”
“You. You are what’s mine and…the boy and Yuji.”
You back up another step, voice rising. “You…You died!”
“I didn’t. Not completely.”
“You’ve been gone for years, Nanami!”
Anger is seeping in now. It burns beneath your ribcage, fuelled by pain.
“And I thought you were dead. Do you even know the kind of hell you put me through? The nights I couldn’t sleep because I kept hoping I’d feel your hand reach for mine. The way I used to wake up and check the door, just in case?”
You’re shaking now.
“I mourned you, Kento. I mourned you every damn day. My life… it lost meaning. I was shattered. I had no one to turn to. I…I was alone. And you were gone. Or so I thought…”
You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to catch your breath. Your next words come out cracked, aching, near a sob.
“…Why would you do that to me? To us? Kento…why?”
Your voice breaks.
Nanami’s expression shifts—something painful flares behind his stoic face. The fury in his stance falters.
He reaches for you but stops halfway.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear it. When I woke up… when they kept me… There was no way to find you. No one told me anything. I didn’t even know if I was Nanami anymore.”
You stare at him like you’re seeing a ghost and a stranger in the same skin.
“But I never stopped thinking about you. Not once. You were the only tether I had. The reason I clawed my way back. I survived… for you.”
Your breathing hitches. But there’s still fire in your chest.
“You don’t get to disappear for six years and just come back like nothing happened. You don’t get to show up, look at me like I still belong to you, when you left me in the kind of grief that ruined me.”
He steps closer. You let him.
This time, when he speaks, his voice is low. Quiet. Like a warning and a confession.
“I know what I lost. I know the pain I caused. But I came back… and I will not leave again. Whatever broke in me—whatever made me into this… I swear I’ll put it down if it means I can stay.”
You don’t say anything. You don’t trust your voice.
You just stare at him, your husband who died, who lived and came back so differently.
Then—
a voice outside the door.
Footsteps.
A key turn in the lock……………
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
The Storm within you as you stand there, frozen. Your body feels hollow, as if you moved too fast, you’d collapse. Your hands are clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging half-moons into your palms, but you can’t feel them.
Everything is spinning.
Nanami.
Ken.
The love of your life. The man you mourned—the man you buried.
The man you died with the night they told you he was gone.
And yet—
He’s standing in your living room.
Changed. Scarred. Alive.
Your brain is screaming that this is real, but your heart is still catching up. You want to throw yourself into his arms and yell at him until your throat tears open. You want to kiss him until you can feel something again.
You want to hurt him. You want to hold him.
Your chest is caving in from the weight of six years of love that never got to be said.
Six years of aching silence.
Six years of crying into your pillow when no one else could hear you.
Six years of staring at his photo in your wallet like it would blink and come back to life.
Your vision blurs.
All that grief, all that rage, and suddenly—
It’s back.
But now, grief stands face-to-face with guilt.
What if he came back only to find a life that moved on without him?
What if he sees your son—his son—and feels nothing but betrayal?
What if you’re too different now?
What if this is just another hallucination brought on by the heartbreak you never truly healed from?
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
And now…….a tear slips down your cheek.
You bite the inside of your mouth until you taste blood just to ground yourself.
Then—
The front door clicks open.
You feel it before you hear it.
The air shifts.
Boots scuff the doorway.
“You did so well today, buddy. One gold star, like I promised.”
Yuji’s voice. Real. Here. Then another—
“Bwudder Yuj, you fhink mommy gonna wike my dwagon?”
“Of course she will! You know, Mom, she’ll put it up the fringe….”
Your breath chokes in your throat. No, not now. Please, not now. You need time. You need to think.
But there’s no time. Because suddenly—
Yuji walks in. And he sees him.
Everything crashes at once.
The silence is deafening as Yuji drops the bag in his hand. His shoulders go stiff, his face instantly falling from cheerful to shattered.
“…..Nanamin”
It’s not loud. It’s not a shout.
It’s grief in the shape of a whisper.
The little boy steps in behind him, happily unaware, still gripping his crayon drawing in one hand and Yuji’s fingers in the other.
“Mommy! Mommy!, wook what drawed today!”
He runs straight toward you.
You fall to your knees, catching him, arms trembling. You can’t even speak. You bury your face in his soft hair as he shows you the paper, proudly pointing to the stick figure labelled Me.
But your eyes flicker to the man standing behind you.
Nanami is staring at the child.
And your heart splits wide open.
Because you can see it on his face—
He knows.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
Yuji’s Reaction to Nanami’s Return
The paper slips from Yuji’s hand. He doesn’t even notice. His eyes stay locked on Nanami, unmoving. Unblinking.
His breath stutters in his chest like it forgot how to work.
“Nanamin…”
The name falls from his lips like it hurts to say. Like, just the sound of it rips old wounds open. Because Nanami was never supposed to walk through that door again.
Yuji doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
If he does, this illusion might vanish.
Nanami meets his gaze—but says nothing at first. Just looks at him, face unreadable.
So much time has passed.
Yuji looks older now. Still carrying too much pain in those young eyes. But right now, in this moment, he looks like a boy again. A boy who’s just seen a ghost.
“I saw you die…” Yuji says. Quiet. Raw.
“I saw your body. I held your glasses.” His voice cracks, rage curling behind every syllable.
“You were gone. I felt it. Nanami closes his eyes. “I know.”
Yuji takes one step forward, fists trembling at his sides.
“You told me to keep moving forward. To be better. To live. And I tried, Nanamin. I did. But I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save anyone. I thought—”
He swallows hard.
“I thought I lost you forever.”
A heavy silence hangs between them.
Then Yuji’s voice drops—quieter now. A tremble beneath the surface.
“So why… why are you here? Why now?”
Nanami looks at Yuji, and for the first time, his hard exterior softens.
“Because I didn’t die,” he says. “But I wasn’t living either. I didn’t know how to come back to a world that kept moving without me. Until I realised… I still had something to return to.”
Yuji swipes at his eyes angrily, as if hating himself for crying.
“You think you’re the only one who lost something?! I needed you. We all did!”
Nanami’s voice doesn’t rise, but there’s steel in it.
“You didn’t need me, Yuji. You needed to survive. And you did. That’s why I chose you.”
Yuji flinches at that.
“I didn’t want your death to be my lesson.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
Another long, awful silence. Then, in a small voice, barely audible:
“I missed you….nanamin"
It spills out like a wound reopening. Nanami’s throat tightens.
He steps forward.
“And I missed you. Every single day.”
Yuji exhales sharply like he’s finally releasing six years of breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He wipes at his face again, frustrated.
“You still wear the same damn shirt.”
A faint smirk touches Nanami’s lips.
“It’s the last clean one I had.”
Yuji lets out a broken laugh that quickly turns into a sob, and before either of them can stop it, he walks straight into Nanami’s arms like gravity gave him no choice.
And Nanami holds him. Strong. Steady. Like old times. Like a broken world just healed by one impossible moment.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
Later That Night in the Living Room
The house is still.
Yuji went to bed hours ago, after sitting in stunned silence with Nanami on the couch, barely able to let him out of sight.
Your son is curled up in his room down the hall, clutching his dragon drawing and talking in his sleep. His tiny snores are the only sound in the apartment.
And you?
You’re in the living room. In the soft lamplight. Sitting across from the man you used to share your life with.
Nanami.
His jacket is folded beside him. Shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looks the same and yet so different. His face is sharper now. Older. Like the world chiselled him into something colder just to survive.
He’s watching you.
You’re hugging your knees on the couch, eyes rimmed red, exhausted beyond anything sleep could fix.
But you had to be awake for this.
No more running. No more silence.
You clear your throat, your voice hoarse.
“So, where were you?”
He exhales, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his mug.
“After Shibuya… I should’ve died. I think I did, for a moment. But someone pulled me out. A woman. She wasn’t from Jujutsu tech she was from the other side. The kind of sorcerers who don’t believe in saving anyone unless there’s something to gain.”
“She kept me alive. But not out of kindness. She wanted to see what pain would do to someone like me.”
You close your eyes. That cold, possessive look he gave you earlier suddenly makes a horrifying kind of sense.
“And? What did it do to you?”
He meets your eyes. No lies. Just heavy, brutal honesty.
“It hollowed me out. Turned me into something functional but… empty. I wandered for years. I didn’t know who I was or where to go. I was just… surviving.”
He leans forward, arms on his knees.
“But then I heard a name in a market a week ago. A doctor at a small city hospital. A healer who used a reverse-cursed technique like Shoko. She quit being a sorcerer. And I thought—it can’t be.”
You don’t say anything. You can’t.
“So, I followed the name. And I saw you. Alive. Beautiful. Stronger than I ever remembered.”
He pauses, voice tightening.
“And you were with a little boy and Yuji. When I first saw him, I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t want to believe it, but then I saw it as the opportunity to come back to you.”
You bite your bottom lip hard to stop from crying again.
“ What the hell, Kento!”
…..
“You left me to raise him alone.”
“I didn’t know I left you with a son.”
“But you left anyway. You gave up…. if it wasn’t for him….would you even come back?“
He flinches.
You hate how good that makes you feel. You needed him to feel it.
“You were my everything, Kento. And when I lost you, I lost myself. I had to claw my way back to life, for him, for Yuji, for me.” You take a shaking breath.
“And now you walk back into our lives and say you want what’s yours? You don’t just get to claim us like we’re chapters in a book you put down and picked up again when it was convenient.”
He doesn’t argue. He just lowers his head.
“I know.”
Silence again. Then softly
“I don’t want to claim what’s mine like I’m entitled to it, I want to earn it. If you’ll let me.”
Your eyes snap to his.
“And if I don’t?”
He pauses.
“Then I’ll stay close. I’ll protect you both from a distance. Even if I never get to call you mine again… I’ll never leave you unguarded.”
You inhale sharply, eyes stinging again. This man. Your husband. The father of your child. A ghost. A storm. A stranger.
And somehow… still the safest place you’ve ever known.
The lamp buzzes quietly as the silence stretches between you again. You slowly move to sit beside him, your shoulder brushing his.
He doesn’t reach for you.
But you don’t move away.
“I don’t know what happens next,” you whisper.
“Neither do I,” he replies. “But I want to find out.”
ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆･ﾟ
please be nice, you’ll. I wrote this on the bus, so sorry for whatever you’ve encountered. I didn’t mean to. sorry.
Granma Coco loves you.
P.s. I might continue this not sure
ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆☆¸¸.•¨¨•.¸¸☆･ﾟ
