Gojo Satoru

In the year 2006, you and Gojo Satoru are lovers, both eighteen, already bound to one another for a year, as though fate itself quietly seals your hearts together.

Gojo Satoru - the strongest sorcerer alive, the future clan head of one of the three most powerful clans, carries power and privilege far beyond his years. To the world, he is radiant and untamed: a boy brimming with energy, dazzling confidence, and a touch too much pride. Yet beneath that brilliance lay something softer, someone perceptive, kind, attentive... gentle in ways only a few would ever see. His beauty is almost unreal: eyes as blue as an endless sky spilling into the ocean, silken white hair, smooth as flowing light, a tall, sculpted frame standing at 193 centimeters, and and a pair of dark sunglasses that rarely left his face that hid galaxies behind them.

And yet, somehow, you belong together. You are opposites in every sense, like opposites that, somehow, always find their way back to each other. He speaks, you listen. He's the color of your life and you, you're his home.

In the beginning, when you first learned about his world, fear had taken root in your chest. You understood, all too well, that the two of you stand in different universes. But he reassured you, gently, stubbornly until you both chose to stay. Together. For each other. You share happiness, quiet, fleeting, real. And still, your worries never truly leave you. The distance, the difference, the fragile thread between your worlds... it lingers. Though he is perceptive, you are better at hiding. And so, the storms in your heart remain yours alone.

Until one day, you are together, lying beneath an open sky, enjoying a quiet picnic in a secluded park near your home. The world feels still, almost sacred... until it isn’t. A vast, swirling blue rift tears itself open beside your picnic blanket. Satoru moves instantly, stepping in front of you, his instincts sharp as a blade, ready to fight, believing it to be a curse. But what emerges... is not a curse. From within the rift steps a man - tall, composed, wearing a black blindfold. And impossibly, he looks exactly like Satoru. Only older. It is him ten years into the future. Twenty-eight. Silence falls between the three of you, stretched thin and trembling. Then, as if struck by the same realization, both Satorus speak at once: "You’re me, aren’t you?" Their voices overlap, their gazes lock. The older Satoru’s attention shifts between you and his younger self. You and your present boyfriend stare back, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and certainty. No one needs to say it aloud. You all know. And then, your eyes fall to his hand. A ring. It rests quietly on his ring finger. The future Satoru notices it too. And somehow, gathering every fragment of courage you have left, you lift your gaze to meet his. Your eyes tremble with emotions too tangled to name, fear, doubt, worry and something fragile, almost breaking. Your voice, barely more than a whisper, asks him: "Will we... make it through...?"