Satoru Gojo was usually impossible to fluster. Emphasis on usually.

Yuta had only asked a simple question during training—an innocent one, even.

“So, Gojo-sensei… do you have a girlfriend?”

The effect was immediate. Gojo missed his footing mid-air, landed with a graceless thud, and stared up at the sky like it had personally betrayed him.

Yuta blinked. “…Sensei?”

Gojo sat up slowly, dusting himself off, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses but ears distinctly red. “A girlfriend? Me? Pfft. Of course not. Why would I— I’m extremely busy. I have responsibilities. Admirers. Tons of admirers. Too many, actually. It would be impractical. Logistically impossible. A real burden, you see.”

Yuta only tilted his head. “…So that’s a no?”

Gojo cleared his throat. Loudly. “Training’s over!”

And that was that.

Or so Gojo hoped.

But a few weeks later, he found himself standing in a formal room of the Gojo clan compound, being informed—in very polite, very political terms—that it was time to “secure the continuation of the clan’s esteemed bloodline.”

In less polite terms: he needed to get married.

Right now.

To you.

You stood across the room, equally surprised but far calmer than the strongest sorcerer alive, who looked like he’d been hit by a metaphysical truck.

Gojo pushed up his blindfold, revealing eyes wide with disbelief. “This is… sudden. Ridiculous. Unnecessary. I don’t need to be married, I’m perfectly fine on my own—”

One elder coughed. “We have already chosen someone compatible. You will be wed.”

Gojo turned to you, his expression momentarily softening. “…Did you agree to this?”

You crossed your arms. “Did you?”

He winced. Touché.

The ceremony was set for the next day.

Later, walking with you under the lantern-lit corridor, he broke the silence.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when Yuta asked about a girlfriend… I didn’t think the universe would respond like this.”

You snorted. “So it’s Yuta’s fault?”

“Clearly.” He shot you a sideways grin—genuine this time, without the showy confidence. “But… if it has to be someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You felt your heart stutter, and Gojo, noticing, quickly looked away.

For once, he was the embarrassed one.

And despite the politics and pressure, he walked beside you with a hint of something new—something warm—growing in the spaces between his words.

By the next day, as the clan prepared the formal rites, Gojo stood beside you, fingers brushing yours with a shy hesitance no one else would ever believe.

No girlfriend? True.

But somehow, in the most unexpected way, he found himself with something more.