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Six Eyes. Limitless. The gifted heir of the Gojo clan.
Gojo Satoru was not the kind of person someone could simply not know.
His name moved through the jujutsu world like a prophecy. Since birth, his existence had been announced as something impossible, something blessed, something that changed the balance of the world before he had even learned how to walk.
To everyone else, he was power.
To you, he was curiosity.
What was a person like that really like? Did he think like everyone else? Did he ever feel normal? Did the world feel heavy on his shoulders, or was he too far above it to notice? That curiosity had followed you since childhood. It grew quietly, somewhere between admiration and fascination. And when you entered Tokyo Jujutsu High as a first year, you heard that he was there too.
One year older.
A second year.
Gojo Satoru.
You were placed in the same year as Nanami Kento and Haibara Yu. You tried to act normal about it. You really did. But on your first day, when you saw him standing with two other second years, your thoughts went completely silent. He looked nothing like the burden people said he carried. He was laughing.
White hair catching the light, round glasses sitting on his face, his posture loose and careless, like the world had never once asked him to bleed for it. Beside him stood Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko.
The strongest.
The gifted.
The unreachable.
And you, standing at a distance, holding your bag a little too tightly.
You were not shy, exactly. Just reserved. Quiet in the way people became when they spent too much time inside their own heads. You observed more than you spoke. You thought before moving. You noticed everything and said very little.
So you watched him from afar.
During training, the first and second years sometimes practised together. Gojo and Geto always ended up sparring with each other, bickering like the world was not constantly trying to kill them. Gojo spoke to almost everyone. He teased Nanami. He joked with Haibara. He annoyed Shoko. He laughed loudly with Geto.
But he never looked at you.
Not once.
At first, you told yourself it was normal. He was Gojo Satoru. He had no reason to notice a new first-year student who barely spoke. He probably did not even know your name. You tried not to care. But feelings rarely listen to reason.
The first person who spoke to you properly was Geto. You were standing near the training field one afternoon when he approached you with an easy smile.
“A new student?” he asked.
You turned, startled. “Yeah. I enrolled recently. Nice to meet you.”
“Geto Suguru,” he said.
You smiled a little. “I know. It’s kind of impossible not to know anyone here when the school has, what, five people?”
He laughed at that. It made you relax.
Geto had a calming presence. Something thoughtful. Something gentler than the noise that always seemed to follow Gojo around. Then you saw him.
Gojo walked towards the two of you, hands in his pockets, his attention fixed only on Geto.
“Hah? What are you doing here, Suguru? Slacking off? Scared I’ll beat you again?”
Geto sighed. “Scared of you? I’m introducing myself to our new first year.”
“Yeah, yeah. Introductions later. Let’s spar.”
Gojo turned around and started walking away. He did not ask your name. He did not glance at you. He dismissed you before you had the chance to exist. You told yourself he was busy. Maybe being the strongest left no room for normal manners. Maybe everyone expected too much from him. Maybe he simply forgot.
But that night, you lay awake and thought about it anyway.
Couldn’t he have spared one second? Your view of him changed slightly after that. Not enough to stop admiring him. Just enough to hurt.
Months passed.
You went on missions with almost everyone except him. You worked with Nanami. With Haibara. With Geto. Even Shoko, sometimes, when the situation called for it. But never Gojo.
The more you wanted to be near him, the more impossible it seemed to happen. He was always there, somehow. In the corner of your eye. In the sound of laughter down the hallway. In the flash of white hair passing by. In the blue eyes, you seldom get to see properly.
Sometimes you catch yourself looking at him for too long. His hair looked soft, like fresh snow. His skin was pale. His smile was bright, almost too bright. And his eyes—when the glasses slipped just enough for you to see them—were the kind of blue that made you feel like you were looking at something you were not meant to touch.
Something in you wanted him to look back. Not as Gojo Satoru looking at some random junior.
But as Satoru looking at you.
The thought embarrassed you so much that you avoided him for days. It was ridiculous. Gojo Satoru as yours? The man admired by the whole jujutsu world? You must have been spoiled by proximity. That was all. Just because the sun was near did not mean it would shine for you.
Then one day, you heard your name.
You were walking past the hallway when Geto mentioned you.
Gojo tilted his head. “Huh? Who?”
Geto looked offended on your behalf. “The new first year. Didn’t I tell you before?”
“Oh. Her.” Gojo waved it off. “Yeah, yeah. Why did Yaga-sensei partner you with her and not me anyway?”
“Because we’re second years,” Geto said. “We have more experience, so we get paired with first years.”
Gojo grinned. “Well, at least I’m partnered with my cute junior Nanami.”
“If you survive him,” Geto said dryly. “He looks like he’s close to beating you up these days.”
“As if.” Gojo’s grin widened. “Did you forget who I am?”
Geto hit him on the arm.
You froze behind the corner. He knew your name. Gojo Satoru knew your name.
It was pathetic, really. The way your heart reacted to something so small. The way heat rose to your cheeks. The way your chest tightened as if you had just been given something precious. All because he had said your name.
No.
You should not have been happy. You should not have cared. But you did. The first time he spoke directly to you, you remembered it for weeks.
You had been assigned a mission with Gojo and Geto. Since the two of them took up too much space in the car, you were pushed into the middle seat. Geto sat on one side, Gojo on the other. You were painfully aware of him beside you. Not touching, of course. Infinity made even closeness feel impossible.
Then he turned to you.
“Which one suits me better?”
You blinked.
He held up two pairs of glasses. One round. One rectangular.
For a second, your brain stopped working.
He was looking at you. Actually looking at you. Those eyes you had admired from a distance were directed at you now, bright and careless and impossible.
You opened your mouth.
“The round one,” Geto answered before you could. “Only because it covers your eyes better. No one needs to see them.”
Gojo huffed and turned away. “Whatever.”
You closed your mouth.
The mission ended quickly. Too quickly. Gojo and Geto handled everything with ease, arguing the entire time like it was a game. There was no space for you to join in. So you stayed quiet.
That night, you could not sleep. Why did he ask you? Did he actually want your opinion? Or were you simply the nearest person? Did he care for your thoughts?
You hated yourself for making meaning out of nothing. You expected the next day to be different. It was not. Nothing changed.
Then summer came.
And Geto began to disappear while still standing in front of everyone.
At first, it was subtle.
His smile grew smaller. His eyes looked tired. He spoke less. When he greeted you, there was still kindness in it, but it felt like something practised. Something that cost him effort.
You wanted to ask if he was okay. But every time you got close, your courage failed. What if you were intruding? What if he did not want to talk? What if your concern was unwanted?
So you waited for the right moment. The right moment never came. Then Haibara died.
And not long after that, Geto Suguru killed an entire village.
His own parents. His own blood. The news reached you through Shoko. For days, you could not breathe properly. You sat alone at the training field, staring at nothing.
Should you have done something?
No.
Could you have done something?
Maybe.
That possibility was worse.
You were not close enough to save him, but close enough to regret it.
Grief changed the school. It changed everyone. Nanami grew quieter. Shoko smoked more. Yaga looked older.
And Gojo—
Gojo stopped looking like the boy who laughed as if nothing could touch him. His eyes lost something. You saw him once after Geto left. He stood alone near the field, his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable.
You raised your hand. Almost called his name. Then stopped.
What could you say?
Sorry?
It’s not your fault?
Would someone like Gojo Satoru even want comfort from you? So you lowered your hand. Again, you said nothing. After that, Gojo was rarely at school. Mission after mission. Curse after curse. As if stopping meant feeling everything.
And despite the guilt, despite the grief, a part of you missed him.
That made you feel selfish.
Your friend had disappeared. Haibara was gone. Everyone was grieving.
And still, somewhere inside you, you missed a boy who barely knew how to look at you.
Years passed.
You became a second year.
Gojo slowly returned to something resembling himself. He smiled again, though not quite the same. His laugh was still loud, but sometimes it arrived a second too late. His eyes still shone, but the light no longer looked innocent.
On your last day as a student, you saw him standing near the school entrance.
Tall. Beautiful. Untouchable.
You looked at him a little longer than you should have.
You tried to memorise him.
The white hair. The careless posture. The shape of his shoulders. The eyes you had loved from a distance.
You imagined, for one foolish second, what it would feel like to run to him. To hug him goodbye. To tell him that for years, you had carried a quiet, impossible thing in your chest.
But you did none of that.
You only smiled.
You waved.
He waved back absently.
And that was all.
Maybe in another life, you would have been brave.
In this one, you let him go.
---
Ten years later, you returned to Jujutsu High as a teacher.
It had not been your original plan. You had taken missions for years, one after another, until the weight of them began to rot something inside you. Too many bodies. Too many screams. Too many children who never made it home.
At some point, teaching felt easier than surviving alone.
At least here, you could protect someone before they broke.
When you met Yaga again, now principal, you felt strange. The school had changed and stayed the same all at once.
Then you saw him.
Gojo Satoru.
For a moment, you forgot how to move.
He was taller now. Broader. His face had lost its softness, sharpened by years and power. His hair was pushed up, revealing an undercut. And instead of round glasses, a black blindfold covered his eyes.
You felt an unexpected ache.
Those blue eyes you had missed for years were hidden from you again.
You walked towards him before you could overthink it.
“Gojo?”
He turned.
Even with the blindfold, you felt the weight of his attention.
“Who?”
The word hit harder than it should have.
Then he clapped his hands once, as if remembering an old object in storage.
“Oh. You. The first year who joined late.”
Not your name.
Just that.
You smiled anyway, because old habits were hard to kill.
“Yeah. It’s been a while.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m teaching now.”
“Ah.”
He did not ask anything else.
Not how you had been.
Not where you had gone.
Not whether you had survived well.
Before you could say more, a voice shouted from across the courtyard.
“GOJO-SENSEI!”
A boy with pink hair came running towards him, waving with his whole body.
Gojo’s face changed instantly.
He smiled wide, warm and bright, and walked past you towards the student.
You stood there.
Invisible again.
The boy noticed you and blinked. “Hi! Are you a new student?”
You laughed softly. “That’s flattering, but no. I’m going to be a teacher here.”
His eyes widened. “Ah! I’m sorry! I’m Itadori Yuji.”
He bowed so deeply you almost laughed again.
“Nice to meet you, Yuji.”
Gojo was quiet for a moment.
You could not see his eyes, but you felt him looking.
Then Yuji remembered something about Megumi and ran off.
You turned back to Gojo, gathering the courage to ask if he wanted dinner. Just to catch up. Just once.
But he was already looking at his phone.
“Guess I’ve got something to do too.”
The words died in your throat.
“Yeah,” you said. “You must be busy.”
He waved. “See you around. Welcome back to Jujutsu High.”
Then he left.
You stood there, smiling like a fool.
That night, the feelings you thought had died years ago came back like an old wound reopening.
You hated yourself for it.
Why him?
Why still him?
He was not cruel. That would have been easier. If he had been cruel, you could hate him.
But he was not.
He was polite.
Distant.
Uninterested.
And somehow, that hurt more.
He had been born to alter the balance of the world.
You were just someone who remembered the shape of his smile.
---
Gojo knew.
Of course he knew.
He had the Six Eyes.
He noticed everything.
The way your breathing changed when he entered a room. The way your fingers tightened around your sleeve. The way words gathered behind your lips but never came out. The way your gaze lingered, then quickly escaped before he could turn.
He did not need to look at you to see you.
That was the problem.
At first, he thought it was simple admiration. People admired him all the time. Feared him. Wanted something from him. Projected things onto him.
He assumed you were the same.
So he kept his distance.
Ignoring you completely would have been cruel. Being friendly would have given you hope.
Neutrality seemed kinder.
At least, that was what he told himself.
But time had a way of making old decisions look uglier.
When you returned as a teacher, he recognised you immediately.
Your cursed energy. Your posture. The way you still paused before speaking, as if weighing whether your words deserved space.
He remembered.
He just pretended not to.
It was easier to be careless.
Easier to say “who?”
Easier to make everything a joke before it could become real.
But then you started working together.
Missions. Meetings. Training. Late evenings at the school when most people had already gone home.
You were different now.
Still quiet, but no longer small. Still thoughtful, but no longer afraid to speak when it mattered.
And Gojo found himself noticing things he should not have cared about.
How tired you looked after missions.
How you always checked on the students first.
How you smiled at Yuji’s ridiculous questions.
How you spoke gently to Megumi, even when he acted like he did not need it.
How you never asked Gojo for anything.
That bothered him more than it should have.
Then came the night everything changed.
The two of you were sitting outside after a long day, the wind cool against your skin. Neither of you spoke for a while.
Then you asked quietly, “Did you know?”
Gojo stiffened.
He kept looking ahead. “Know what?”
You let out a small laugh, but there was no humour in it.
“That I liked you. Back then.”
For once, Gojo had no immediate answer.
You continued before he could speak.
“I’m not saying this because I expect anything from you. I just wanted to say it once. It feels stupid, keeping something for that long.” You looked down at your hands. “It wasn’t like you did anything. I just liked you. That’s all.”
Gojo turned to you.
His blindfold was off.
For the first time in years, you saw his eyes.
Blue.
Bright.
Heartbreaking.
“Truth is,” he said slowly, “I kind of knew.”
You froze.
“The Six Eyes make it hard not to notice,” he added.
Your chest tightened.
“You knew?”
He said nothing.
“You knew all this time?”
You stood abruptly, anger and humiliation rising too quickly to control.
“Is that why you treated me like that?”
Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came.
You laughed once, bitterly. “Right. Of course. I forgot. You see everything.”
You turned to leave.
Then he called your name.
Not “you.”
Not “first year.”
Your name.
His hand reached for yours before either of you could think.
Infinity dropped.
His fingers touched your wrist.
The world seemed to stop.
Even Gojo looked shocked by it.
For so long, you had wanted those eyes on you.
Now that they were, you wanted to disappear.
You pulled your hand away.
“Don’t.”
Then you walked off.
Gojo stood there alone, staring at the hand that had reached for you without permission.
For once, the strongest had no idea what to do.
---
After that, you avoided him.
Not childishly. Not obviously.
Just enough.
You took different hallways. Ended conversations before they became personal. Looked past him instead of at him.
And Gojo noticed every single time.
Of course he did.
He saw everything.
A week later, you were walking through the corridor when you collided face-first into someone’s chest.
A very solid chest.
You looked up.
Gojo Satoru had teleported directly in front of you.
He was wearing rectangular glasses, but they did nothing to hide the tension in his face.
“Please hear me out.”
You stared at him.
He was not smiling.
That was what made you stay.
You sighed. “Fine.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “Let’s sit somewhere.”
Before you could answer, his fingers brushed your hand. Gentle this time. Careful. Like he was asking permission through touch.
You let him lead you to a bench.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then he said, “I’m sorry.”
You looked at him.
“It was stupid,” he continued. “I know that. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping distance.”
“You thought ignoring me was the right thing?”
He winced. “Not ignoring. Being neutral.”
“That sounds worse.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It does.”
You folded your arms. “Were you scared of my feelings?”
“No.” He looked down at his hands. “I was scared of having something to lose.”
The words changed the air between you.
Gojo Satoru, who laughed too loudly and stood above everyone, looked unbearably human in that moment.
“Everything I care about leaves,” he said quietly. “Or dies. Or turns into something I have to kill.”
You thought of Geto.
Haibara.
The years between then and now.
Your anger softened, but it did not disappear.
“That explains it,” you said. “It doesn’t erase it.”
“I know.”
“You made me feel invisible.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know,” he said again, softer this time.
You looked away. “I spent years thinking I was stupid for wanting you to see me.”
Gojo was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, “I did see you.”
You turned back to him.
His glasses slipped slightly, revealing blue.
“I just didn’t know what to do with it.”
That hurt.
But it healed something too.
You exhaled slowly. “We were kids.”
“You were,” he said. “I was an idiot.”
That made you laugh despite yourself.
His face softened instantly, as if your laugh had given him something back.
You lifted your arms awkwardly. “Come here.”
Gojo stared at you.
Then, before you could change your mind, he leaned into you.
No Infinity.
No distance.
Just the weight of him in your arms.
He held you tightly, almost desperately, like part of him still expected you to vanish.
You patted his back, trying not to think about how broad he was. How warm. How real.
For once, the untouchable man allowed himself to be held.
And for once, you did not feel unseen.
---
After that day, Gojo became impossible to avoid.
He lingered.
Everywhere.
At your classroom door. Near the vending machines. Beside you during meetings. Outside missions he was absolutely not assigned to.
At first, you thought it was coincidence.
Then he started calling.
“Satoru,” you said into the phone one afternoon, staring at the cursed building in front of you. “I can’t today. I still have an entire building to exorcise.”
There was a loud crash.
Smoke burst from the building.
You stared.
A few seconds later, Gojo walked out through the dust, holding his phone to his ear.
“Which building again?” he asked cheerfully. “I think it’s done.”
You ended the call and marched towards him.
“You can’t just do that!”
“What?” He grinned. “Help you?”
“You’re not assigned here!”
“I assigned myself.”
“That’s not how assignments work.”
“It is when you’re me.”
You glared at him.
He slung an arm over your shoulders. “Anyway, you’re free now. There’s this new restaurant I wanted to try. My treat.”
“You always pay.”
“Exactly. Tradition.”
“You don’t have some girl you should be spending all that money on instead?”
Gojo looked down at you, eyes bright behind his glasses.
“What other girl?” he said lightly. “One is enough.”
Your heart stumbled.
You looked away quickly.
He flirted with everyone. Probably.
It meant nothing.
Probably.
“Can we use my car?” you asked. “Your teleportation makes me dizzy.”
Gojo looked personally offended. “My teleportation is elegant.”
“It makes me want to throw up.”
He considered this seriously.
Then he held out his hand. “Fine. But I’m driving.”
“It’s my car.”
He was already walking towards the driver’s side.
You sighed.
But you were smiling.
For almost two years, things were warm.
Not simple. Never simple. Not with him. Not with the lives both of you lived.
But warm.
He became part of your days in ways you had once only imagined. Annoying you during paperwork. Bringing sweets to your desk. Appearing after missions with that ridiculous grin, pretending he had not been worried.
Sometimes, before you left for a dangerous job, he would say it casually.
“Call me if it gets bad.”
You always waved him off.
“I can handle myself.”
“I know.”
But his smile never fully reached his eyes when he said it.
The last time he told you, you were adjusting the strap of your weapon bag.
“Two special grades were reported in the area,” he said.
“I read the report.”
“You want backup?”
You looked at him. “Are you offering because I need it, or because you’re clingy?”
“Both can be true.”
You laughed. “I’ll call if I need you.”
Gojo watched you for a second too long.
“Promise?”
You softened.
“I promise.”
But promises were fragile things in the jujutsu world.
Sometimes, they broke before anyone had the chance to keep them.
---
When Gojo arrived, it was already too late.
The cursed spirits were gone.
The damage remained.
And you were lying there, pale against the ground, your eyes closed like you were only sleeping.
For one impossible second, he believed you were.
Then he saw the stillness.
The blood.
The silence where your cursed energy should have been.
Gojo Satoru had not cried like that since Geto.
His knees hit the floor beside you.
He touched your hand carefully, as if holding too tightly would break what was already gone.
“You promised,” he whispered.
Your hand was cold.
The strongest sorcerer in the modern era sat beside your body and looked completely powerless.
He thought of every wasted year.
Every moment he had looked away.
Every time he had pretended not to know your name.
Every chance he had to say something real and chose a joke instead.
He had been waiting for the right time.
After the next mission.
After things calmed down.
After he figured out how to say it without making himself vulnerable.
But the right time never came.
It had died with you.
His eyes burned.
The eyes you had loved so much finally looked at you the way you had always wanted.
Softly.
Completely.
Lovingly.
And you were not there to see it.
“I love you,” he whispered.
The words did not make his heart lighter.
They destroyed him.
Because you could not answer.
Because he would never hear your laugh again.
Because he had spent so long being afraid of losing you that he forgot to love you while you were still there.
Gojo bent over your hand and cried.
The world had cursed him with strength and taken everything else as payment.
---
Not long after the Shibuya incident, when his own end finally came, Gojo was not afraid.
He thought of Geto.
Nanami.
Haibara.
Shoko, still alive somewhere, probably tired of all of them.
And then you.
You, smiling at him from across the school yard.
You, sitting beside him on a bench.
You, scolding him for stealing your car.
You, opening your arms to him like he was not the strongest, not a weapon, not a god among sorcerers.
Just Satoru.
His eyes slowly closed.
For the first time in a long time, the weight lifted.
No more strongest.
No more loneliness.
No more infinity between him and the people he loved.
He was free.
Free to see you again.
Free to tell you properly.
Free to be loved.
Free to be Satoru Gojo.