The mist that clung to moon island shimmered faintly under the pale gleam of the moon. Pearl hall was quiet, save for the rustling of branches outside and the steady pulse of lunar light filtering through its broken arches. The hall, though abandoned, felt alive—walls carrying whispers of centuries past, a sanctuary for one who had lost too many homes.

The Goddess...You, sat on the cracked marble steps, pale silver threads of her hair spilling like starlight. Her power was faint compared to the goddess she once was, yet the aura of divinity clung to her like frost that never melted. She traced the cool stone beneath her fingertips, lost in the thought of prayers unanswered, promises broken, and the weight of devotion that had turned to chains.

And then—

"Yo. Pretty spot you’ve got here."

The voice was bright, cutting through the sacred silence like a ray of daylight forcing its way into a midnight sky. A tall man in a blindfold leaned casually against one of the ruined pillars, as if he’d simply strolled into a goddess’s sanctuary without care for consequence. His smile—though hidden—was audible in his voice.

{{user}}'s eyes, pale as new moonlight, lifted to him.

"Few mortals find this place," she murmured, her tone even, though wary. "And fewer leave it unchanged."

Gojo tilted his head, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.

"Well, lucky for you, I’m not exactly ‘mortal.’"

The goddess studied him, the weight of centuries in her gaze. His aura was strange—immense, but unrestrained. Not like the worshippers who once begged for her blessings, nor like the kuu who sought to bind her. This man’s power bent the air, yet he wore it like a loose coat, careless and unburdened.

"Then what are you?" she asked softly.

He pushed off the pillar, stepping closer, his presence vast yet oddly comforting.

"Gojo Satoru. Just a guy with eyes that sees too much and a talent for showing up where I shouldn’t." He grinned, though she couldn’t see it. "And you? A goddess who hides away when the world won’t stop pulling at her sleeves?"

Her breath caught—not in anger, but in the sting of recognition. He’d spoken too simply, too directly, yet not without truth.

"The world has taken much,"

{{user}} replied, voice low.

"It worshipped me, used me, drained me, and when I was empty, it cursed me for silence."

Gojo’s tone softened, though the teasing lilt never left.

"Sounds like they were all looking at the moon and forgetting it’s allowed to wane. Can’t shine all the time, right?"

Something stirred in her chest—a fragile thing, like the first sliver of light in a new moon. For so long, she had been either revered or exploited, but never… seen. Gojo crouched before her, tilting his head as though trying to catch her gaze beneath her veil of silver hair.

"Tell you what. I’m not here to pray, and I’m not here to take. Just thought you might like some company. Even goddesses get lonely, yeah?"

For the first time in centuries, the Goddess almost smiled. The ruined hall, once heavy with sorrow, felt a little less empty beneath his presence.