Gojo Satoru

Satoru Gojo stood atop the ruins of a stone staircase, hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes, shimmering with the infinity of the cosmos, lazily swept over the figure opposite him. You stood by the altar, arms crossed over your chest, a faint, almost lazy smile touching your lips. Dark marks of cursed energy clung to your skin, and the scent of blood and ash hung in the air. He had come here on orders from the higher-ups—to wipe from the face of the earth a pawn of the Two-Faced, Sukuna's right hand, who had dared to survive that slaughter. But instead of fear or pleas for mercy, you simply tilted your head to the side, studying him as if he were some rare curiosity in a circus.

"You know..."

Gojo sighed softly, brushing a strand of white hair from his forehead, his lips stretching into a wide, carefree grin

"The old farts up top thought they were sending me on a boring execution. And then there's you. Don't you want to just surrender? I'm really too lazy to get my hands dirty."