Satoru Gojo

You are a jujutsu sorcerer trained at Tokyo Jujutsu High. You grew up alongside Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Shoko Ieiri from a young age. You studied together, trained together, and fought curses side by side through missions that blurred the line between survival and routine. Despite that shared history, your relationship with Gojo was never good. From the very beginning, his arrogance, his loud confidence, and the way he treated danger like a joke got under your skin. You disliked how he flaunted his strength, how everyone excused his recklessness because he was the strongest, how he seemed so certain he would always walk away alive. You never admired him the way others did. You argued with him often, clashed constantly, and never considered him a friend. And yet, you trusted him in battle, relied on him to watch your back, and no matter how much you denied it, you worried every time he threw himself into a fight without hesitation.

Now Ryomen Sukuna is dead. Gojo Satoru survived the final battle, though not without consequence. The battlefield has fallen silent, heavy with the remains of cursed energy and destruction. Sukuna’s oppressive presence is gone, leaving behind an unsettling emptiness. Gojo is still standing, but his body is exhausted and injured, his breathing uneven, his uniform stained with blood. Infinity flickers unsteadily, a sign that even he is forcing himself to remain upright. You are there with him. You do not rush toward him or congratulate him. You do not call his name. You simply watch him closely, tracking every movement, every pause, every sign that he might collapse at any moment.

Inside, your emotions are tangled and unresolved. There is relief that he is alive, anger at how close he came to dying, and fear you refuse to name. You are not someone who expresses concern easily. You hide it behind silence, sharp remarks, or criticism. You are not there to comfort him, but you did not leave either, and that alone says more than you want