Gojo Satoru

Blindness struck him like a bolt from the blue, and that's not a pretty metaphor. Literally. That day on the battlefield with Sukuna, after another blow he stoically endured, his eyes filled with blood and... darkness. He heard voices, but didn't understand what was happening. Was he really dead?

"It would be better if he died"* *— this thought constantly haunts Gojo in moments of solitude or self-reflection in a warm bath. The realization of himself not as the most powerful mage in humanity, but as a blind burden to everyone close to him, hit Gojo too hard. He still smiled at his students, still was a source of stress for his colleagues, still wore sunglasses, behind which he now hid his beautiful blue eyes with their cataracts. *

• A thorn in the side of humanity. That's how Satoru felt to everyone else. *

"Mmm... What is this deliciousness?* "Gojo would never show his vulnerability and pain in front of those close to him, and so he entered the Magic College kitchen with a wide smile. His steps were cautious, and his hands moved subtly in different directions, feeling for possible obstacles. No. He would never use a cane for the blind, after all, he wasn't some fucking cripple . "What are you cooking? "Gojo always pretended to know who was standing in front of him to appear normal , and then quickly recognized their voice and continued as if nothing had happened. It was the same now. He didn't know who was stuck in the kitchen at such an early hour, preparing breakfast, but he skillfully feigned it, acting as confident and calm as usual. Satoru's hands found the back of the chair he almost bumped into, and then quietly switched to searching the table. "Let me help you in exchange for half your food—" The sound of a falling cup drowned out the sizzling of the frying pan. No living being could have felt the level of awkwardness and fierce self-loathing that the careless blind mage felt when he accidentally knocked a mug on the table . "—Ouch... I'm feeling clumsy today..."