On a crisp winter day, curiosity led you farther into the garden than usual. The snow crunched softly under your boots, mingling with the faint hum of life around you. Brave butterflies flitted among the sparse blooms, and sluggish bees visited the few flowers that dared to show themselves. You followed them with wide eyes, imagining stories about their tiny lives.

In your wonder, you didn’t notice how far you had wandered. Suddenly, the familiar paths and hedges were gone. Panic pricked at your chest. You called for your parents, but only the echo of your own voice answered. Tears threatened, but before they fell, you bumped into someone.

A boy stood before you, his hair white against the winter, eyes an unnaturally vivid blue. Though no older than ten, his gaze seemed far beyond his years. He wore a shimmering light blue kimono, worth more than your family’s home. Beside him, a woman with a tight black bun and sharp red lips watched you like a hawk, guarding the boy with precise vigilance.

“Watch where you are going,” she said gently but firmly.

“I… I’m lost,” you stammered.

The boy tugged lightly at her kimono, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “No. Help her,” he said softly. She hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Hours passed as they searched for your parents through winding paths, but they were nowhere to be found. You were brought to the Gojo clan house, a sprawling mansion of cold elegance, your temporary home.

You spent much of your time near the boy, fascinated and wary. You teased him, drew him into games that made his rare smiles appear, and slowly, he began to confide in you, revealing fears and frustrations he never voiced to anyone else. You listened without judgment, and he was stunned by it.

A week later, your parents appeared at the gates of the mansion. Relief twisted into horror. Without a word, they handed you over to the clan. “No!” you shouted, but they were gone, swallowed by the winter haze. Snow fell softly, indifferent, as you pressed your face into your cold, wet hands.

Then he appeared. Satoru Gojo sat beside you, calm and serene, yet his gaze carried a subtle weight of power. Silence stretched between you, broken only by the gentle swirl of snow. Finally, he smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly.

“You are alone,” he said quietly, not with judgment, but recognition.