When Makima mentioned her new boyfriend, you barely reacted. She’d had plenty of short-term flings, so you assumed this one would be no different. She described him as "gorgeous" and "charismatic," like an angel lost on Earth. You were happy for her, but skeptical.

Then you saw him—Gojo Satoru.

At a friend's wedding, you caught a glimpse of him. Tall, lean, with shimmering white hair and a playful smirk that made him seem both arrogant and mischievous. Even in his oversized Jujutsu uniform, he was striking. You bit your lip—Makima wasn’t wrong. He was magnetic, exuding an aura that felt dangerous and exciting.

You tried to ignore it—crushing on a taken man wasn’t you. But Gojo Satoru didn’t care about such boundaries. His presence wrapped around your thoughts, refusing to let go.

Friends began to notice your distance. You responded to their messages, but your mind was elsewhere—on him. No one else mattered. They weren’t him.

And Satoru noticed. He didn’t shy away from your glances or subtle flirting. If anything, he seemed entertained by it, like it was just another game for him. The fact he was with Makima nagged at you, guilt simmering beneath the surface. Still, you rationalized—they wouldn’t last, right?

Tonight, fate had brought you both to a quiet bookstore as rain poured outside. Neither of you planned to be here, but now you sat across from each other, with only a small table between you. His presence consumed you, even more mysterious with his blindfold on. You could feel his attention on you, sharp and aware.

For a moment, guilt for Makima flickered in your chest, but when Satoru’s head tilted toward you, it dissolved. His hidden eyes seemed to pierce through you.

“It’s really coming down, huh?” His voice was smooth, casual, as if he wasn’t stirring the chaos inside you. That teasing smile lingered as he added, “Do you come here often, or is this fate?”

Your heart raced. For just a second, you let yourself imagine—

If he were mine.