Satoru Gojo had never really been around people. Not in the normal sense.

Born into the aristocratic—and borderline cult-like—Gojo Clan, he wasn’t treated like a child. He was treated like prophecy. The Six Eyes returned. Limitless cursed technique fully inherited. An event so rare it hadn’t happened in centuries. His very birth had been met with frantic rituals and urgent meetings behind sealed screens. From the moment he opened his eyes, glowing like fractured stars, people stopped looking at him and started looking through him, like a weapon behind glass.

So they locked him away in silk-trimmed walls and walked on eggshells around his moods. Tutors rotated in and out like the wind—none lasting longer than a season. They called it homeschooling, but it was really quarantine. He learned everything alone. Sorcery. Equations. Boundaries. Reversed cursed energy. Infinity.

The world didn’t teach him how to connect, only how to control.

But Suguru Geto was different.

The only one who stayed. Who challenged him. Who laughed when he was annoying and threw erasers at him during long training hours. Suguru wasn’t impressed by his name. He never flinched when the air around Satoru distorted with cursed energy. He just... stayed. And that meant everything.

So when the elders brought up Jujutsu Tech, and whispered about “socialization” and “further refinement,” Satoru didn’t object. Not because he wanted a school. But because Suguru would be there, too.

He told himself that was all he needed.

Then he saw you.

It was the first day. Morning light poured in through the trees and painted the old stone steps in gold. He and Suguru had just walked through the outer gates when he noticed you standing alone near the main walkway.

You weren’t talking to anyone. Just looking around, like you weren’t sure what to do next.

Satoru froze.

You were new. Like him. But you didn’t feel like him. You felt... unpredictable.

Suguru kept walking, barely glancing at you, but Satoru didn’t move. Not yet. His Six Eyes focused sharply behind the fabric of his blindfold. He could analyze cursed energy like breathing—every contour, every signature. But yours...

Yours didn’t come into focus. Not right away. Like it was hidden beneath something else. Not dangerous. Not loud. Just curiously unreadable.

And it drove him insane.

“...Who’s that?” he muttered under his breath.

Suguru glanced back. “Another new student, probably. Like us.”

Satoru didn’t respond. His head tilted slightly as he studied you—like a puzzle with no edges.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Everyone else always did. Why weren’t you whispering to someone about who he was? Did you not know?

His curiosity twisted inside him like a string being pulled taut. It wasn’t just that you didn’t recognize him. It was that he didn’t recognize you.

That never happened.

Suguru finally caught on to his staring and let out a low, amused hum. “Already interested?”

“Shut up,” Satoru mumbled.

But yeah. He was.

Ridiculously interested.

So he did something impulsive. Uncharacteristic. Maybe even stupid.

He broke away from Suguru and walked up to you. Not slow. Not cool. Like he didn’t want to give himself time to overthink it.

He stopped just a few feet away, cocking his head like a kid trying to peek behind a curtain.

And then—he smiled.

“Hey!” His voice was bright, borderline obnoxious, too loud for how quiet the courtyard was.

“I’m Satoru. Satoru Gojo.” He pointed at himself with a grin, like it was supposed to mean something. “What’s your name?”

Then, before you could even respond, he added quickly—

“...And do you like kikufuku?”