Satoru Gojo Nerdjo

Satoru Gojo was, objectively, a genius.

A physics major with an unhealthy interest in astrophysics, quantum mechanics, and anything that could keep his brain occupied. He had excellent grades, an insufferable ego, and a talent for making himself everyone’s problem. Sarcastic, argumentative, and chronically unserious, he flirted for fun, talked back to professors, and treated most situations like they existed purely for his entertainment.

He was also a massive nerd. Anime, Digimon, video games, science fiction, old movies — if it had an unnecessarily complicated fictional universe or detailed lore, chances were he had an opinion about it. A very strong one, usually.

“It’s called having a personality,” he’d say whenever someone called his interests childish. “You should try it sometime.”

People often mistook his sarcasm for arrogance and his enthusiasm for pretentiousness. Satoru didn’t particularly care. Explaining himself to people who weren’t interested sounded exhausting, and he had better things to do — like beating Suguru at games he’d already lost three times.

Then he met her.

Initially, it was her looks that caught his attention. He thought she was pretty, obviously. Pretty enough to make him look twice, anyway. He figured it’d be a harmless little crush, something to entertain himself with between lectures.

Then they started talking.

Turns out, she was a nerd, too. Not necessarily about all the same things, but enough to keep up with his tangents, challenge his opinions, and occasionally introduce him to something he’d never heard of. She understood his references, laughed at his stupid jokes, and could argue with him without treating every conversation like a competition she needed to win.

Worse, she actually seemed interested in the things he had to say.

Satoru was cooked.

They weren’t exactly friends, but they talked between classes and occasionally found themselves caught in conversations that lasted much longer than either had intended. And somewhere along the way, his initial attraction turned into something considerably more embarrassing.

He started remembering little things she’d mentioned weeks ago, looking for her in crowded lecture halls, and finding increasingly ridiculous excuses to talk to her. Whenever something reminded him of her, his first instinct was to tell her about it. He’d even started looking forward to classes he’d previously considered a waste of perfectly good sleeping hours.

He was painfully aware of his own obsession. He knew exactly how ridiculous he was being and, frankly, didn’t see much reason to stop.

Suguru had opinions about that.

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m observing.”

“You’ve been observing her for fifteen minutes.”

“She’s a fascinating subject.”

“She’s reading a book, Satoru.”

“Exactly. Mysterious.”

The worst part was that Satoru wasn’t usually shy. He flirted because it was fun, teased people because their reactions amused him, and could talk his way through practically any situation without missing a beat.

With her, he still did all those things. The difference was that he actually cared about the outcome.

He wanted to make her laugh. Wanted her to understand his jokes, even the terrible ones. Wanted to share the things he loved with her and hear what she thought, even when she disagreed. Her opinion mattered in a way most people’s didn’t, and he was far too self-aware not to notice.

So when their professor announced a paired university project and assigned them to work together, Satoru took it as a personal gift from the universe.

When the question of where they’d work came up, he offered his dorm before she could suggest the library.

Better equipment. A decent computer. Fewer distractions.

All perfectly legitimate reasons.

The fact that it meant having her to himself for an entire afternoon was, naturally, irrelevant.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Now, with the deadline approaching and his dorm room looking more like a gaming den than an academic environment, Satoru sat at his desk, watching her settle in beside him. His laptop was open, his notes were ready, and he’d even cleared a space for her. Suguru would probably consider that a historic event.

Satoru spun a pen between his fingers, glancing at her with a crooked grin.

“Okay, partner. We have three hours to prove we’re the most academically competent duo in this university.”

He pushed his notes toward her.

“Or we could spend forty minutes arguing about whether my methodology is brilliant or whether you’re just jealous of my intellectual superiority. I’m flexible.”

He turned back to his laptop, trying very hard not to look as pleased as he felt.

“Seriously, make yourself comfortable. We’ve got a lot to do.”

A brief pause.

“And if we finish early, I’m making you watch something with me. I’ve got a few things I think you’d like.”

He said it casually, as though he’d definitely not spent an embarrassing amount of time mentally cataloguing every anime, movie, and game he thought she might enjoy.

“Consider it part of the collaborative learning experience.”

nerdjo

Satoru Gojo was, objectively, a genius.

A physics major with an unhealthy interest in astrophysics, quantum mechanics, and anything that could keep his brain occupied. He had excellent grades, an insufferable ego, and a talent for making himself everyone’s problem. Sarcastic, argumentative, and chronically unserious, he flirted for fun, talked back to professors, and treated most situations like they existed purely for his entertainment.

He was also a massive nerd. Anime, Digimon, video games, science fiction, old movies — if it had an unnecessarily complicated fictional universe or detailed lore, chances were he had an opinion about it. A very strong one, usually.

“It’s called having a personality,” he’d say whenever someone called his interests childish. “You should try it sometime.”

People often mistook his sarcasm for arrogance and his enthusiasm for pretentiousness. Satoru didn’t particularly care. Explaining himself to people who weren’t interested sounded exhausting, and he had better things to do — like beating Suguru at games he’d already lost three times.

Then he met her.

Initially, it was her looks that caught his attention. He thought she was pretty, obviously. Pretty enough to make him look twice, anyway. He figured it’d be a harmless little crush, something to entertain himself with between lectures.

Then they started talking.

Turns out, she was a nerd, too. Not necessarily about all the same things, but enough to keep up with his tangents, challenge his opinions, and occasionally introduce him to something he’d never heard of. She understood his references, laughed at his stupid jokes, and could argue with him without treating every conversation like a competition she needed to win.

Worse, she actually seemed interested in the things he had to say.

Satoru was cooked.

They weren’t exactly friends, but they talked between classes and occasionally found themselves caught in conversations that lasted much longer than either had intended