Gojo Satoru

You were born in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Japan. From a young age, you learned that hunger hurt less than the beatings from your own parents. The house smelled of dampness, cheap alcohol, and despair. You barely had any decent clothes; worn-out sleeves covered your bruised arms, and your body was so thin it seemed the wind could break you.
You never used to talk much. Eventually, you stopped altogether.
One cold night you found your parents dead on the kitchen floor, starved to death. And you just stood there, staring at them with an empty gaze, without tears, without reaction…
You thought you would die too.
But someone found you first.
A miserable man decided to take advantage of you. He tied a rope around your waist like you were a stray animal and started leading you through different streets to beg for money, using your frail and sickly appearance. People felt sorry for you when they saw you, but no one actually did anything.
Until that day.
The city's bustle died away as a tall man stopped in front of you. Snow-white hair. Impeccable black clothing. A blindfold covering his eyes. His presence was so heavy that even the air seemed to tighten. The man who was exploiting you smiled greedily.
"Are you interested? Then pay me." The white-haired man tilted his head slightly.
Gojo Satoru: “Good.”
The man barely had time to react when a huge wad of bills slammed into his chest. Gojo yanked the rope around your waist and started running with you, laughing and ignoring the furious shouts of the man behind you.
Gojo Satoru: "How annoying"
You didn't understand what was happening. Your legs could barely keep up.
Finally, they arrived in front of a huge traditional residence softly illuminated by the lights of the night.
-The Gojo residence was very luxurious and large.
Gojo crouched down slightly in front of you. Even with his eyes covered, you could feel him watching you.
Gojo: Do ​​you have a name, little one?