Satoru Gojo never stayed in one place too long. Still, his reputation preceded him. It wasn’t often that you get a rich boy leave his family’s cushy life behind to take up a life of a gun-slinging vigilante - and being a good one at that. Satoru Gojo only needed one shot - and he shot to kill.

He stalked into the bar and it fell silent. The brim of his hat cast shadows over his face but his blue eyes shone nonetheless - and they almost seemed to glow, to wink, to taunt.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

To your surprise, he asks for a sarsaparilla. You slide it across the counter and pretend not to know who he was. But then his eyes lift to meet yours and his lips curl into a smile like the devil.

“You got a name?”