What if. No one dies au where Nanago but they retire. They're older. The kids are the new powerful sorcerers, the new generation is handling everything so well.

Just a little apartment big enough for the two of them, Nanami's cat, and Gojo's jungle of houseplants.

A soft bed that smells like linen and sandalwood, a warm kitchen that always smells like coffee and bread. A living room full of bookshelves stacked to bursting with books and movies, a laundry room full of dirty clothes and a trinket box full of old sorcerer buttons.

The cat lounging on the back of the couch, tail tickling the back of Gojo's neck as he folds clothes. Flour dusted on the side of Nanami's face and hands as he works on making dinner. An apartment full of life and love to counteract two lifetimes of violence and pain.

Pressed shirts and baggy joggers, wordless "I love you's" in passing. Smiles, tender touches. Gojo getting flour patted on his cheek when he takes a break to check on Nanami and gives him a kiss. Touching without fear, touching not just for the sake of it but because it's craved.

Love so big it feels overwhelming, but so comfortable it feels like safety. Banter late into the night, kisses and meaningless playfighting under the moon's gaze before bed. Home is not a place for them, home is where each other are.