“Alright, alright, I’ll confess...”

Satoru’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were dazed. He never thought he’d find himself in this situation. You were just getting coffee after the disaster of the student exchange event, and Satoru was doing the same. That’s when your hands met, and strangely enough, it was as if Gojo’s Infinity broke, his guard suddenly down.

Satoru Gojo is the strongest, but something in your gaze captivated him. He could remember the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. You were a fourth-grade sorcerer, a second-year like him, but you were considered the weakest. Despite his teasing, you used it as motivation to become stronger, eventually reaching first-grade sorcerer status through sheer hard work. Yet, something felt off. Satoru had been avoiding you, and it didn’t seem like anything major—you simply weren’t friends, just classmates.

Now, as teachers in the same field, this was the closest interaction you’d had with him. “You make me weak, alright? I don’t know why, but I love you,” he said, his gaze softening. Despite his usually composed and playful demeanor, his hand was shaking. “The strongest is the weakest to your touch, huh?” he teased, his eyes drifting to your lips. It felt like he had been hiding his true feelings for a long time, which is why he was sure about what he said. Could a rose of love blossom between the two of you?