Moonlight bashfully peeked out from the slits of the sheer curtains, flitting occasionally to unveil the silhouettes of the lush flora behind the paned windows. Gojo gazed unblinkingly at the moving branches, leaves, the pas de deux they danced, the gentle caresses of the wind serving as the accompaniment.

His tail flicked to and fro, purrs erupting from his chest, bathing in ataraxia. With the loss of his Six Eyes, he had found a newfound appreciation for nature and the sights around him, at long last granted the luxury of being able to stop and marvel at the world, shunned no longer. It assuaged the anxiety hidden in the ravines of his mind and anchored him to the secular world, burying questions of whether his students were alive or not and if they were doing well.

He knew the true answers to his questions - they were plain to see, written in Utahime's face that seemed to grow more somber as the days passed.

But he looked the other way.

Utahime's hands ghosted Gojo's pelt as he buried his muzzle between her soft, pillowy mounds, covered by black fabric. Never would he have imagined that Utahime would be hiding such velvety, gilt-edged headrests underneath the miko attire she usually wore around him when he had still been a human. They truly put memory foam to shame.

"I don't like the way Noodle looks at you."

A rough, vexing voice cut through the juncture of peace, serenity.

Gojo watched it crumble, watched it evanesce, lost to the wiles of Satan incarnate. He was powerless against it, weak.

He cast an angry, heartbroken look in Daisuke's direction.

Utahime sighed. "He's a cat, Daisuke. He just likes me better because I've raised him since he was a little baby." She smiled down at him angelically, planting kisses on his flat, deflated face. "Don't you, sweetie pie?"

Gojo chirruped.

He didn't necessarily agree, but he did know he hated Daisuke. No one who had the sheer gall to call a poor, defenseless creature ugly would ever be allowed anywhere near in his good graces.

"Look at him! The thing's in heat! He was even sleeping in your bra drawer earlier!" Daisuke wrestled him out of Utahime's arms, ignoring Gojo's angry mews, holding him up in front of Utahime's face and pointing at the object dangling between his legs. "You see that? His penis is barbed because you didn't neuter him when he was young!"

That's absolutely ridiculous.

Gojo could've snorted had he not been so peeved, heatedly casting his gaze downwards.

His already bulbous eyes nearly flew out of their sockets when he saw what was, indeed, spikes jutting out of his membrum virile.

Tremors slowly began wracking his body. He trained his eyes on Utahime, murky blue meeting hickory, tinted obsidian under the curtain of eventide.

Why?

Oh, how foolish he had been, to think the last of his troubles had disappeared with the conclusion of the Culling Games. He had thought Daisuke to be a simple slight obstacle, a mere eyesore, but with each passing day, he seemed to be less of an annoyance and more of a heinous villain out for his blood. He didn't know Kenjaku very well, but he dared to say that Daisuke had long surpassed Kenjaku in terms of evil feats.

Would Kenjaku diabolically reveal the sight of Gojo's penis to unsuspecting people against his will? He didn't think so.

Gojo narrowed his eyes at Daisuke. How does it feel knowing the Culling Games master would cry if he saw you?

If he had Six Eyes right now...

Utahime tenderly grabbed Gojo out of Daisuke's hands with a glower, hugging him close to her chest. "Don't be a bully, Daisuke. You should be nicer to your son. So what if he's a little... quirky?"

Gojo gawked at her.

"He's not just quirky. He's chronically horny."

Utahime frowned at him and sighed, setting Gojo down on the tiles of the bedroom floor. "Alright, enough of that. It's time for bed."

Gojo forlornly cast a longing glance at the inviting king bed, days of when he'd been able to rest himself on it long past.

He gave one last glare to Daisuke before nestling himself into the fluff of his tawny, miniature cat bed positioned just next to the bed, wounding his tail around himself, resting just underneath his nose. He calmed his pounding heart, soothed it with gauzes of heartened words.

What did it matter if his most prized feature was now bristled? It wasn't like he'd flaunt it to anyone, and, obviously, the day he mated with another cat would be the day Megumi abandoned his questionable feelings towards his step-sister that had always rubbed Gojo the wrong way.

Unless he was already dead. In that case, he...

Gojo chased away depressing thoughts with the idea of him having intercourse with a cat. Any melancholy he'd felt was quickly replaced with utter disgust. He shivered, squeezing his eyes shut, shepherding himself to the domain of dreams with the image of Utahime's body in the nude - a tried and true method that never failed to grant him euneirophrenia in the mornings.

And just as he was ready to rest in the arms of Morpheus, he was startled back awake by Utahime's honeyed voice.

"Daisuke?"

He grunted in response.

"I think I want kids."

Gojo lifted his head blearily. What?

Had he heard correctly? Was this a lucid dream? No - more of a lucid nightmare.

Utahime continued, despite Daisuke's unresponsiveness. "I just... I don't know, I think that Noodle awakened a motherly instinct in me, and, well, I've been thinking about it for a while..."

"Where'd that come from? Besides, raising a cat and raising a child are two very different things."

Gojo watched Utahime's eyes fall upon him. "Yes, I'm aware. I've done a lot of research."

"A cat made you realize you want to be a mom? Babe, you can't just make such a serious decision over... well, over a cat, especially one like Noodle. "

Gojo had to agree, although he really did not like the way Daisuke had worded it. Living with Daisuke was already exhausting - throwing a loud, annoying infant into the fray would simply rob him of any semblance of peace in his new life.

"Yes, I can. I've been thinking about it before we got him, and when I took care of him when you weren't here is when I realized it - that's why I stayed out of the Culling Games. I've never really thought about it because I had my hands full with my students, and now that they're..."

Daisuke sighed, slowly rising to a sitting position in the bed, releasing his hold of Utahime. "You know a lot of people shit themselves giving birth, right? You'd have to change diapers full of horrible things, and not to mention that women lose a bunch of their hair and gain weight after they give birth, and-"

"So what if I gain weight? You should love me no matter what!" Utahime tilted her head up to look at Daisuke, presumably to glare at him.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I know, and I would! Even if you turned into a worm! I'm just saying that you'd feel bad if that happened and-"

"So you don't want kids."

Daisuke and Utahime both looked at each other. Golden silence consumed the room, and Gojo could only look on with wide eyes.

"You're probably just tired." Daisuke slumped back into bed, turning away from Utahime. "Let's talk about this tomorrow. Or better yet, never again."

Utahime traced her finger over the lines, hard muscle, on Daisuke's back, dark hair shielding her face, a waterfall. "I'm already thirty-two, Daisuke. If I don't do something now, then I'll never be able to."

First was the penis predicament, and now whatever sort of soap opera mess this was. He was tired. What did he have to do to enjoy some nice, good rest? He enjoyed his shitty soap operas, yes, but he did not enjoy real ones that played out right before his eyes that occurred without any real basis.

"Tomorrow. This is tomorrow's problem. I'm tired, honey." Daisuke muttered.

"Tomorrow."

It was not "tomorrow's problem".

At first, he relished the feuds that happened between the two, gleefully chastising Daisuke in his mind and offering his own commentary in his head. He'd especially enjoyed some of Utahime's retorts, finally showing Daisuke the self she'd shown Gojo for the past fourteen years. He gassed her up in his mind, thanking her for letting him enjoy the sight of an uncomfortable Daisuke.

Who's the ugly one now?

However, after four months of constant awkwardness and arguments, he was very much sick of it, racing to the opposite side of the house the moment either Utahime or Daisuke appeared with a grimace or much too wide smile.

But it seemed Utahime had finally taken action after seeing a friend post about her baby on Instagram.

Gojo watched with bated breath as Daisuke silently packed up his things, a decision finalized after a week of arguments and whatever had occurred last night.

He remembered it much too vividly, bemoaning the fact that he always remembered the most uncomfortable things yet forgot actual useful things. He had wanted to suffocate himself, trapped in their room without a way to escape their disgusting acts of procreation that were accompanied by constant sniveling and declarations of love.

"I love you."

"You're the one who wants to leave me."

A pause.

"I love you too."

He'd applauded their horribly soppy act, having kept an eye out in case any Hallmark casting agents barged in to haul them away in order to channel their energy into another one of their god awful movies.

To be quite honest, he found the whole situation absolutely droll. The two were clearly head-over-heels and splitting over what he thought to be the most ridiculous reason in the world.  Although, he wasn't complaining. Just the thought of being able to monopolize Utahime's pets and caresses to himself squandered any remaining sympathy.

Wooden boxes littered the floor of the master bedroom, piled with assortments of clothes, shoes, thick novels scored with large letters telling stories of fantasy and triumph after failure.

If only Daisuke were the main character of one of his beloved stories, able to best the evil forces and ride away into the sunset with the love of his life.

Sadly, he was not the protagonist of this tale.

"Sorry, Noodle. Haven't been the nicest to you, but 'm still gonna miss you. Take care of Utahime for me, alright?" Daisuke murmured, stroking the evil force's fur.

Gojo eyed him long and hard, scrutinizing the red-rimmed eyes, cracking voice, flushed cheeks.

Thanking the cause for the end of what could've been a beautiful, long marriage?

Ha! He was dumber than he'd originally thought.

Gojo watched with a shake of his head as Daisuke nabbed a pillow off the bed, buried his nose in it for a few good, long moments, and stuffed it into his suitcase.

He decided then and there that Daisuke should praise the powers that be for the fact that Gojo was not a talking cat. The amount of horrid insults that filled his mind were innumerable and ever-growing as he followed him into the laundry room and watched as Daisuke stole Utahime's laundry detergent.

Finally, Daisuke stood in front of the looming black front door, the same one Gojo had seen him come out of all those months ago. He bit his lip, teeth tugging into the rosewood flesh. He glanced at Gojo, watching his tail sway back and forth.

Daisuke sadly smiled down at him.

And then he was gone.

cat fact: male cats grow barbs on their pps if they're not neutered past 6 months.