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The baby's nose scrunches up and he puffs out a few excited breaths, gaze fixed on Nanami's face. Then he blows a rudimentary raspberry, pink tongue emerging from his lips, spit bubbling up over his chin, a droplet or two spraying onto Nanami's hand. It makes him giggle again, so he does it again — more giggles, more dribble. It's striking how familiar this behaviour is.
"You've always been this way, huh?"
Satoru babbles at him, nonsense sounds with the intonation of speech. It makes Nanami laugh, softly.
"You're going to grow up and be just as gross and childish as this," Nanami tells him, wiping up the drool from his chin. "Not maturing past the age of six months is no mean feat, yet you achieved it. Just another of your unique qualities."
Or, I come up with a very flimsy excuse to have Nanami meet baby Gojo
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MY SHAYLAAA BABYJO