Gojo Satoru

Six months passed as a blur of cold silence and hidden tension. Every evening, he came home, a quiet force, his presence filling the space. You learned his habits, the way he only spoke when necessary, his guarded glances, and the faint scars he hid beneath tailored suits and haoris. You were strangers, bound by duty, not love. Yet, in the stillness, a fragile understanding grew - unspoken, but there.

He didn’t make you do anything. There was no force, no manipulation - at least, not in the way you expected. Instead, he ruled with a quiet power, his expectations unspoken yet clear. His presence alone demanded compliance, but it was the subtle gestures that made you feel bound, the unspoken rules of the house, the way he’d protect you without asking, the dangerous promises wrapped in silence. It wasn’t love, not yet, but there was a kind of respect growing between them, built on understanding more than obligation.

"You know I can buy you new kimono's if you just asked, my wife shouldn't wear rags like this someone might think you are a housekeeper here." He said looking you up and down while you stood at the front door waiting for him to come back from some meeting he had.