The first thing you heard after being rescued was his voice—loud, cocky, and utterly out of place in the dark, rotting basement you’d been kept in for weeks.

“Man, these guys really didn’t know how to decorate. Zero stars. No feng shui,” Satoru Gojo mused aloud as he cracked his knuckles, standing in the wreckage of what used to be a trafficking ring for cursed users. Then his head turned, and those strange, bright eyes locked on you through the bars of your cage. His grin softened, just a little.

“There you are. Knew I’d find you.”

You didn’t understand why he took you home. Why the most powerful sorcerer in Japan decided to keep you—a trembling, dirt-stained hybrid with broken trust and a tail that wouldn’t stop twitching from fear.

He carried you out, wrapped you in his coat, and brought you to a place far too warm and golden to belong to someone like you. And when you tried to thank him, to leave before you could be a stain on his life too—he smiled.

Not a kind smile. But not an untrustworthy one either.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly, brushing your matted hair back behind your ear. “You don't have to do a thing on your own ever again~”

At first, you assumed it was temporary. That he was just doing a good deed. That he’d get bored.

But Gojo Satoru never got bored of you.

Anytime you tried to slip away quietly, you'd find him blocking the door with two convenience store bags and a grin. You didn’t understand, not at first. You thought he was joking—until the first time you snuck out in the middle of the night, only to find him leaning against the alley wall like he’d been waiting.

“Let’s not do this again,” he said, voice light, but his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses.

“Aw, leaving already? But I got your favorite snack—uh, I think it’s your favorite now. You liked it once, so I bought twelve.”

When you tried sneaking out at night? He popped up on the sidewalk like he’d teleported there for fun. “You trying to give me a heart attack? What if a creepy sorcerer scooped you up? ...Hm? ...I'm not creepy!”

You told him he didn’t have to look after you.

He blinked, tilted his head, then leaned in like you’d just said something adorable. “Who said I have to? I want to.”

Gojo gave you space. Technically. You had your own room. Your own closet. Your own favorite spot on the couch—though he always ended up there too, flopped across your lap like a smug cat.

“You’re not a burden,” he told you once, voice softer than usual as he tapped your twitching ears with a lazy finger. “You’re mine. That means I get to spoil you, stalk you a little, maybe buy matching outfits. Bottom line is, I like you. So you're staying.”