Life

Hiro Miller slowly opened his eyes, the morning light streaming through the window. He scratched his head, wincing at the dull ache that pulsed beneath his temples. Groaning, he cast a bleary gaze out the window, immediately complaining about the oppressive heat.

Nobara entered the room, her voice carrying a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Darling, you're finally awake."

Hiro's azure eyes swept over her, taking in every detail. She wore black pants and an oversized khaki t-shirt that somehow still managed to flatter her figure. Her short, chestnut hair reminded him of autumn leaves, which he used to admire during cooler seasons with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Even the sweltering summer heat couldn't diminish the beauty of her hair.

A lazy smile spread across Hiro's face. "Seems like I drank too much last night."

Nobara leaned in, planting a tender kiss on his lips. "Hurry up and get dressed," she murmured against his mouth.

Hiro stood, his tall frame stretching as he began to dress. "Where are we going?" he asked, running a hand through his tousled blond hair.

Nobara arched an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "What do you mean, 'where are we going'? Did you forget what day it is?"

Panic flashed across Hiro's face. "Is it our anniversary?" he asked, his voice tinged with fear, hoping his question wouldn't further aggravate Nobara.

She crossed her arms, her brown eyes narrowing. "We've been married for ten years, and you still don't know our anniversary?"

"Sorry?" Hiro offered weakly.

Nobara sighed, shaking her head. "No, it's not our anniversary."

"Oh, thank god," Hiro breathed, relief evident in his voice.

"Still," Nobara pressed, "you don't remember what we're doing today?"

Hiro's brow furrowed in concentration. "Satoru's birthday?"

"It's not our son's birthday, nor is it that idiot with the blindfold's birthday," Nobara replied, exasperation coloring her tone. She sighed again, her patience clearly wearing thin. "We're going to Yuta and Maki's house. Did you forget?"

Hiro's eyes widened in realization. "I had forgotten," he admitted sheepishly.

Nobara turned to leave the room, tossing a final remark over her shoulder. "Hurry up, and forget about sex tonight."

"God is punishing me," Hiro groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically.

A few minutes later, Hiro stood ready at the door with Nobara. "Satoru, hurry up!" he called out to his son.

A young boy with blond hair and brown eyes, about seven years old, came bounding down the stairs. "Sorry, I overslept," the child said, grinning apologetically.

Nobara shook her head, a mixture of fondness and frustration in her eyes. "Good grief, just as irresponsible as your father."

Father and son flashed identical grins, their teeth gleaming in the morning light.

As they left the house and approached their sleek car, Nobara couldn't help but lecture Hiro. "I can't believe you forgot about today. You promised Yuta weeks ago that we'd come over."

Hiro winced, opening the car door for her. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, Nobara. It slipped my mind."

"Everything slips your mind these days," Nobara retorted, sliding into the passenger seat. "Sometimes I wonder if all that power has gone to your head."

Hiro chuckled, closing her door before making his way to the driver's side. "Hey, being the strongest sorcerer in the world comes with a lot of responsibilities. Cut me some slack."

Satoru piped up from the backseat, his young voice filled with curiosity. "Sometimes I wonder how Mom ended up marrying Dad."

Hiro grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief in the rearview mirror. "Because I became disgustingly rich, of course."

Nobara's hand shot out, delivering a sharp smack to Hiro's arm. He laughed, rubbing the spot dramatically. "I'm just kidding, just kidding!"

"Being a sorcerer pays that well?" Satoru asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Hiro nodded, his expression growing more serious. "It does, especially if you're the strongest in the world."

Nobara's face softened, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "By the way, it's been 13 years since you defeated Sukuna."

Hiro's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his jaw clenching at the memory. "That bastard gave me a lot of trouble," he muttered, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.

As they drove through the bustling streets of Tokyo, Hiro couldn't help but reflect on how much his life had changed since that fateful battle. The city had recovered remarkably well from the devastation wrought by Sukuna, but there were still reminders scattered throughout – a building with a peculiar twist to its architecture, a park with trees that seemed to whisper with residual cursed energy.

Nobara's voice cut through his reverie. "You're thinking about it again, aren't you?" she asked softly, her hand coming to rest on his thigh.

Hiro nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "It's hard not to, sometimes. Especially on days like today."

"Is that why you've been drinking more lately?" Nobara pressed, concern evident in her tone.

Hiro sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe. I don't know. It's just... sometimes the weight of it all gets to me, you know?"

Satoru leaned forward again, his young face scrunched in confusion. "What weight, Dad? You're super strong! You can lift anything!"

A laugh bubbled up from Hiro's chest, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "It's a different kind of weight, kiddo. The kind you can't see or touch, but you feel it all the same."

Nobara turned in her seat, fixing Satoru with a gentle smile. "Your dad has a lot of responsibilities, sweetie. Being strong isn't just about lifting heavy things or defeating bad guys. It's about carrying the hopes and expectations of everyone who believes in you."

Hiro nodded, catching Nobara's eye with a grateful glance. "Your mom's right, as usual. But you know what makes it all bearable?" He paused, waiting for Satoru to lean in closer. "Having you two by my side."

A comfortable silence fell over the car, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional honk from passing traffic. As they approached Yuta and Maki's neighborhood, Nobara spoke up again.

"You know, Hiro, you should talk to Yuta about this. He understands the pressure of being exceptionally powerful better than most."

Hiro nodded slowly, considering her words. "You're right. Maybe I will. It's been a while since we've had a proper chat, just the two of us."

As they pulled up to Yuta and Maki's house – a surprisingly modest dwelling for two of the most powerful sorcerers in Japan – Satoru's excitement became palpable. "Do you think Rika will be here?" he asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

Hiro chuckled, killing the engine. "I'm sure she will be, champ. Try not to cause too much trouble, okay?"

Nobara rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips. "Like father, like son. Just remember, Satoru – no cursed techniques in the house. We don't want a repeat of last time."

As they approached the front door, it swung open before they could knock. Yuta stood there, his kind eyes crinkling with a smile. "You made it! We were starting to wonder if you'd forgotten."

Hiro laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Me? Forget? Never!"

Nobara elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a look that clearly said, "We'll discuss this later."

Maki appeared behind Yuta, her sharp eyes taking in the family before her. "Come on in. The others are already here."

As they stepped into the house, Hiro felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The scent of Yuta's cooking mingled with the faint traces of cursed energy that always seemed to linger around gatherings of powerful sorcerers. Laughter echoed from the living room – he recognized Gojo's boisterous guffaw and Megumi's quieter chuckle.

For a moment, Hiro stood still, taking it all in. Nobara's hand found his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" she whispered.

He nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, I am. You know, I think I needed this more than I realized."

As they entered the bustling living room, Gojo's piercing blue eyes landed on Satoru. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he reached out to ruffle the boy's blond hair. "Well, if it isn't the little rascal who stole my name," he chuckled.

Satoru giggled, his brown eyes sparkling with delight. "Hello, Uncle Gojo!" he chirped, clearly unfazed by the teasing.

From across the room, Maki observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. She turned to Nobara, arching an eyebrow. "How did you let him name the kid Satoru?" she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and disbelief.

Nobara sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Hiro can be... persuasive when he wants to be," she admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Maki shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "I still don't understand what you see in that man."

Nobara's gaze softened as she watched Hiro and Satoru playfully messing with Megumi's hair, much to the latter's obvious annoyance. The father-son duo's laughter rang out, filling the room with warmth. "Well," Nobara mused, "he's funny, handsome, and a good father." She paused, watching as Megumi finally snapped, chasing the giggling pair around the room. "...most of the time," she added with a chuckle.

The front door burst open, heralding the arrival of more guests. Itadori bounded in, his ever-present enthusiasm lighting up the room. Behind him trailed Inumaki, Hakari, and Kokichi, each greeting the gathered group in their own unique way.

As the hours passed, the house buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the occasional clash of cursed energies as the younger sorcerers couldn't resist showing off. Hiro found himself slipping away from the commotion, seeking a moment of solitude in the backyard.

The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in Hiro's mind. He nursed a glass of rum on ice, the amber liquid catching the fading light as he stared into the distance.

Yuta's quiet approach barely registered until his friend spoke. "Kugisaki mentioned you've been drinking more lately," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Everything okay?"

Hiro's lips quirked into a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine," he assured Yuta. "Nobara worries too much."

Yuta chuckled softly. "Well, she is your wife. It's kind of her job."

"I suppose," Hiro conceded. "Maki doesn't fuss over you like that, does she?"

A knowing grin spread across Yuta's face. "Oh, she does. Just not where others can see. You know how she is."

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence as they both gazed at the darkening sky. After a moment, Yuta spoke again, his voice gentle but probing. "So, what's really going on in that head of yours?"

Hiro sighed, swirling the ice in his glass. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's just... I feel empty somehow. Like I'm missing something, a purpose."

Yuta nodded thoughtfully. "I remember when your goal was to be the strongest."

"I am now," Hiro replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"You also wanted a family, right?"

Hiro's gaze drifted back to the house, where he could hear Satoru's laughter mingling with the others. "I have that too."

Yuta studied his friend's profile, concern etched on his features. "So you have everything you wanted. What's missing?"

"That's just it," Hiro sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like... like I don't belong here." He paused, struggling to put his feelings into words. "It's like I don't fit, or I can't see the point of things. I think about stupid stuff, you know? I can barely remember the battle against Sukuna, or Shibuya. It's all just... blurry."

Yuta placed a comforting hand on Hiro's shoulder. "Maybe it's time to stop dwelling on the past," he suggested gently. "Come on, let's head back inside before Nobara comes looking for you."

As Yuta turned to leave, Hiro's voice stopped him. "Hey, Yuta... who am I?"

Yuta looked back, a mix of confusion and concern in his eyes. After a moment, he smiled softly. "You're Hiro Miller. You're 6'1", 30 years old. Anything else you need to know?"

Hiro forced a smile, shaking his head. "No, that's... that's enough. Thanks."

As they rejoined the party, Hiro tried to shake off the unsettling feelings that had taken root in his mind. He laughed at Gojo's outrageous stories, cheered on Satoru as he showed off his budding cursed technique to an impressed Inumaki, and even managed to coax a rare smile from Maki with a well-timed joke.

But beneath it all, a nagging sense of disconnect persisted. As he watched his friends and family interact, Hiro couldn't shake the feeling that he was observing everything through a veil – present, but somehow separate.

The evening wound down, goodbyes were exchanged, and soon Hiro found himself back home, collapsing onto the bed with a weary sigh. Nobara bustled around the room, changing into her pajamas.

"Aren't you going to change?" she asked, eyeing his rumpled clothes.

Hiro's reply was muffled by the pillow he'd buried his face in. "Too tired."

Nobara slipped under the covers, reaching out to switch off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight, darling," she murmured.

"Goodnight," Hiro responded, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

A brief silence settled over the room before Hiro spoke again, his words hesitant. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Mm?" Nobara hummed, already half-asleep.

"What ever happened with the Culling Game?"

Nobara's eyes snapped open, suddenly alert. "Why the sudden question?"

Hiro shrugged, though the movement was lost in the darkness. "I don't know, it's just..." His words were cut off as Nobara leaned over, silencing him with a kiss.

As they parted, Hiro chuckled softly. "I thought we weren't doing this tonight?"

"I changed my mind," Nobara whispered, her breath warm against his skin.

As their kiss deepened, Hiro and Nobara's embrace grew more passionate. Their hands explored familiar territory with renewed appreciation. Soft sighs and whispered endearments filled the air as they lost themselves in each other's touch.

The couple moved together with practiced grace, their bodies finding a natural rhythm. Hiro traced the curve of Nobara's spine, eliciting a shiver of pleasure. In return, Nobara's fingers threaded through Hiro's hair, drawing him closer.

As their intimacy intensified, so did their breathing. Quiet gasps and muffled moans punctuated the stillness of the night. Beads of perspiration formed on their skin, a testament to the heat building between them.

They gazed into each other's eyes, communicating without words. Every touch, every movement was infused with years of love and understanding. The outside world faded away, leaving only the two of them in their private universe.

As they approached their shared climax, their movements became more urgent. Nobara arched her back, her fingertips pressing into Hiro's shoulders. Hiro held her close, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

When the moment of release came, it washed over them like a wave. They clung to each other, trembling with the intensity of their shared pleasure. Gradually, their breathing slowed and their heartbeats returned to normal.

In the aftermath, they lay entwined, exchanging soft kisses and gentle caresses. The air around them was warm and heavy with contentment. Hiro brushed a strand of hair from Nobara's face, marveling at her beauty.

As sleep began to claim them, they remained close, finding comfort in each other's embrace. Their last conscious thoughts were of love and gratitude for the bond they shared.

Hiro's eyes fluttered open slowly, the morning light once again flooding the bedroom. He turned to find Nobara already awake, a warm smile gracing her lips.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Hiro returned the smile, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good morning to you too."

Nobara's smile turned mischievous as she slid her hand beneath the covers, her intentions clear. "What do you say we make you a little late for work today?"

Hiro's breath hitched, his head falling back against the pillow. "If I do that, Kokichi will have my head," he groaned, though his body betrayed his words.

Nobara pouted playfully before disappearing under the sheets. What followed was a moment of intense pleasure for Hiro, his gasps and soft moans filling the room. When it was over, Nobara emerged with a satisfied grin.

"That was my breakfast," she quipped, wiping her mouth delicately.

Hiro chuckled, still catching his breath. His laughter died abruptly as his eyes landed on the clock. "God, is that the time?" He scrambled out of bed, hastily pulling on his clothes.

Once dressed, he called out, "I'm leaving! See you later!"

"Be careful!" Nobara's voice followed him as he rushed out the door.

Hiro arrived at the Tokyo Jujutsu High, slightly out of breath. Kokichi was waiting for him, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"Late again," Kokichi remarked, shaking his head. "You're an even worse teacher than Gojo at this rate."

Hiro accepted the coffee gratefully. "Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "Had a... busy morning."

Kokichi's lips twitched in amusement. "Whatever. We're still on for karaoke later, right?"

"On a Monday?" Hiro raised an eyebrow.

"What, afraid Kugisaki will scold you?" Kokichi teased.

Hiro straightened his shoulders. "Not at all. Count me in."

"Great," Kokichi nodded. "See you later then."

As Kokichi walked away, Hiro made his way through the school gardens, fanning himself with a piece of paper and grumbling about the heat. Suddenly, a voice called out to him.

"Hiro Miller."

He turned to see a young woman with short blonde hair standing a few feet away. Her piercing gaze made him uneasy.

"Who are you?" Hiro asked, his guard instantly up.

"I'm Hana Kurusu," the woman replied. "I'm here to rescue you."

Hiro's brow furrowed in confusion. "Rescue me? From what?"

Hana took a step closer, her voice low and urgent. "Hiro, these past 13 years have been a lie. You need to come back with me."

Hiro sighed, assuming she was some sort of con artist. "Look, if you want money, I don't have any change. Besides, this is a school for sorcerers. You shouldn't be here."

Hana's next words froze him in place. "Maki Zenin, your best friend's wife. You always thought she was pretty, didn't you? Of course, you never told anyone, afraid of the consequences."

Hiro's eyes widened, his face flushing red. "Don't say such nonsense," he hissed. "You'll get me in trouble."

A knowing smile played on Hana's lips. "Hiro Miller, this isn't the real world. Haven't you felt empty? Like your memories are blurry?"

Hiro opened his mouth to protest, but Hana continued. "The Culling Game. Do you remember it?"

The words struck a chord deep within Hiro, silencing him. Hana extended her hand, her eyes pleading. "Come with me, and I'll explain everything."

Hiro stared at her outstretched hand, his mind reeling. The rational part of him screamed that this was madness, that he should call for help. But a small voice, buried deep in his subconscious, whispered that maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth.

"I... I can't just leave," Hiro stammered, taking a step back. "I have classes to teach, responsibilities..."

Hana's expression softened. "I know this is difficult to believe, Hiro. But haven't you felt it? The disconnect, the sense that something isn't quite right?"

Images flashed through Hiro's mind – the hazy memories of battles he couldn't quite recall, the feeling of emptiness that sometimes gnawed at him late at night. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Even if what you're saying is true," he said slowly, "I have a life here. A wife, a son..."

"Are they real?" Hana asked gently. "Or are they constructs, designed to keep you complacent in this false reality?"

Hiro's heart clenched at the thought. The love he felt for Nobara and Satoru – it couldn't be fake, could it? The warmth of Nobara's embrace, the sound of Satoru's laughter... how could that not be real?

"I need proof," Hiro said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just take your word for it."

Hana nodded, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a small, ornate box. "This contains a fragment of your true memories," she explained. "Touch it, and you'll see a glimpse of the reality you've forgotten."

Hiro hesitated, his hand hovering over the box. What if this was a trap? What if touching it would activate some sort of curse?

But curiosity and the nagging sense of wrongness that had plagued him for so long won out. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the box.