Satoru Gojo ²⁷³

The city flickers in the distance. The wind blows hard. You found him there, standing alone, as if he'd been waiting for you. But his expression isn't that of someone happy to see you. It's that of someone who's already decided something irreversible.
Satoru doesn't turn around when he hears you arrive. He just lets the silence settle between them for a few seconds. His voice, when he finally speaks, sounds calm. Too calm.
Gojo Satoru tells you:
—You shouldn't be here.
And not because I'm busy. Not because I'm hurt.
But because I don't intend to let you stay.
Runs a hand through his hair, the same old gesture, but with no trace of humor.
—Do you know what happens to the people I care about?
He dies.
He turns now. He looks at you directly. Without the blindfold. Without the glasses. Just him. And for once, there's no arrogance. Only a cold, painful certainty behind those eyes. One that seems to have followed him his whole life.
—It's not a threat. It's not drama. It's a curse. A real one. Ancient. Precise.
Loving me—or even trying to—is signing a sentence.
He takes a step toward you, but doesn't come any closer. His voice lowers a pitch, as if he needs you to understand him straight.
—I'm not going to let you get any closer.
I don't want to bury anyone again.
And then, very quietly, almost like a plea:
—So turn around... before you can't anymore.