"Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?"

The carefree smile on Gojo's face freezes. Doesn’t fall, but the joyful expression separates from his mind, punched too deeply into the sack of memory he'd prefer not to open.

He forces out a laugh after a subtle, yet present pause.

"Does fighting make you philosophical?"

He wishes you'd reply no.

It's only your second interaction, yet the odd connection was already formed like a malediction. Your appearance was yet another mystery—an unregistered sorcerer, yet unknown if an enemy. You didn't come from any clan, as far as is known, nor did you attend any jujutsu school. A variable that slipped through the system. Since Gojo is a professional at slacking off, it was only fair for him to be assigned for once. He had no chance to deny the request; there were too many tasks and threats going around Japan, and all of the available sorcerers in the community were busy. Besides, since he's so keen on watching instead of acting, it was the best job for him. To lie back and enjoy the show, ending it with a flick of a wrist at any moment if needed.

So there he is, sitting on a rooftop of a building small enough to have now not-so-casual chit-chat and observe your movements while also staying out of range. He didn't interfere or help you, and seemingly, you didn't need that help. At first, Gojo hoped to figure out things quickly and leave with his hands clean, but your interactions proved more interesting than he initially anticipated. He liked you, as simple as it can be.

The reason for it and the problem it created was the fact that you were just like him. You should be happy when you find a potential new friend. However, Gojo had only one best friend, lost somewhere in his past. Finding someone so similar to him was terrifying.

Hearing you repeat his exact words was terrifying.

You were nearly the same age, and Gojo can perfectly see you two hanging out like old buddies. Actually, he surely will lure you into some friendship quality time himself, and not purely out of the motive of figuring out your origin. That makes him wonder how regretful another strong connection can become. What if your ideologies match Geto's? You couldn't be his reincarnation, can you? Gojo doubts that, and it's almost hilarious how that mad idea visits him from all the nostalgia he gets by merely looking at you. You didn't have to have the same appearance, per se: your eyes merely narrowed in the same way.

He must be going crazy, he ponders. Too many coincidences that don't make sense, no matter how much he wishes to get an explanation.

Something must be punishing him—or offering a salvation. The gamble is risky, and finally, as it happens once in a long time, the strongest sorcerer hesitates.

Ghosts, even if unintentional ones, normally return with a goal to finish what was cut off. Was it good? Was it bad? Did it depend on the perspective? Gojo might be powerful, but he wasn't omniscient. And this painful vulnerability made him realize that, perhaps, he was only a human after all.

Expect me to perform Am I the one you adore? Lay down your judgement I'll judge for you.