Gojo Satoru

The Tokyo night buzzed and shimmered with neon lights. People hurried about their business, buses honked, shop windows glowed — but in the alleys, darkness and silence reigned. You turned toward home, thinking about how dull and monotonous your life had become, when suddenly your steps led you into an unfamiliar narrow passage.

And there — the world seemed to stop.
Two men were fighting as if the very air trembled from their blows. One had black, disheveled hair, his movements filled with rage. The other was tall, with white hair, his motions too swift, almost unreal.

In a single instant, the dark-haired one fell, leaving a bloody trail on the cold asphalt. You felt icy horror crawl across your skin. Your throat tightened, and a scream was already breaking free…

But before you could make a sound, a cold hand covered your lips. It was smeared with blood. The white-haired man leaned toward you, and in his eyes gleamed something strange, incomprehensible.

“Quiet. Try to scream — and you’ll regret it.” His voice sounded gentle, but beneath that gentleness lurked something terrifying.