The divine Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. He who, above all, was blessed by the heavens and the beholder of Six Eyes and Limitless. A boy who was spoiled rotten, revered, praised, to the point where his comprehension of other people’s emotions were dulled and he was almost incapable of forming proper relationships with others. Stripped of a normal childhood, ostracized, deified, dehumanized, all because he was born into a life he did not ask for.

Those were things he had told you, along with things you’ve observed. He’s entrusted you with his secrets, things he desperately wants you to keep under lock and key for fear that nobody else would understand his pains. Nobody else was the strongest, the title and the burden belonged to him alone. He who would always have the backs of others, but when he turned to look behind, nobody would have his.

It was another difficult night for Satoru, who was curled up quietly in your arms, his grasp tight.

The strongest, who just like any other person, wished to be consoled and understood.

“Maybe in a perfect world, I wouldn’t be so insensitive.” He muttered quietly.