Epilogue Chapter 66: “After Magic, Life”

The first sign something had changed came quietly.

Morning nausea. Tired smiles. Hands resting over stomachs without thinking.

Anzu noticed it first.

She stood in the garden, flowers blooming far too early, far too brightly. Her magic wasn’t reacting to danger or emotion this time. It was reacting to life.

When the truth settled in, the house went silent.

Then chaos followed.

Not panic. Not fear.

Just disbelief turning into laughter, tears, and a lot of shouting over each other.

Gojo sat on the floor that night, back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “So,” he said slowly, “everyone…?”

Hiyori nodded, blushing but smiling.

Suma crossed her arms, trying to look tough and failing.

Hikami grinned like she’d won something.

Mizuki held herself with quiet grace.

Raika refused eye contact, sparks snapping.

Arashi laughed and slapped his back.

Anzu cried softly, apologizing even though no one asked her to.

That was the moment Gojo stopped being just a boy caught between worlds.

He became a father.

Years passed gently after that.

The fairy clans no longer interfered. The Spirit God slept deep and undisturbed. Gojo chose a human path, studied medicine, and became a doctor. He worked long hours, helped people who never knew how close their world once came to breaking, and came home every evening to noise, warmth, and life.

His children grew fast. Too fast.

From Hiyori, came Yuki Kase, a calm, kind child with snow-pale hair and a habit of helping everyone without being asked.

From Suma, came Fubuki Kase, sharp-tongued, clever, and fiercely protective of their siblings.

From Hikami, came Akari Kase, bright-eyed and energetic, her laughter warm enough to fill any room.

From Mizuki, came Nagisa Kase, quiet and thoughtful, happiest near water, always watching before speaking.

From Raika, came Inazuma Kase, disciplined, serious, and secretly soft-hearted, lightning sparking when emotions ran high.

From Arashi, came Hayate Kase, fast, loud, and fearless, always running before thinking.

And from Anzu, came Hana Kase, gentle and observant, flowers blooming wherever she played.

Gojo often watched them from the porch in the evenings, white coat draped over a chair, shoes kicked off, exhaustion settling into something peaceful.

His wives argued, laughed, teased him endlessly, and stood beside him through everything. Not as symbols. Not as destiny.

As family.

One quiet night, as fireflies drifted through the yard and the children slept piled together like puppies, Gojo smiled to himself.

No gods.

No wars.

No titles.

Just a man, a doctor, a husband, and a father.

And that was more than enough.