Satoru had been thinking lately—which, honestly, was probably the most shocking part of it all. Even Suguru had joked once that if Gojo ever went quiet for too long, something was wrong. And lately, something was wrong. Not in a dramatic, world-ending way—just a slow-growing irritation that made him disobey the elders more openly than before, ignore missions he didn’t feel like doing properly, and push boundaries simply because he could.

It was easy to get away with it. Too easy. After all, he was Gojo Satoru. The strongest. The one they paraded around when things got bad and tried to leash the moment he stopped being convenient. No one dared punish him seriously, and everyone knew it. That knowledge sat comfortably on his shoulders—and yet, somehow, it also weighed on him.

Right now, that frustration showed itself in the way he sprawled across your dorm’s couch, legs wide, back sunk deep into the cushions like he owned the place. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, his face twisted into the most dramatic pout imaginable. The room was unusually quiet. Suguru was off on a mission, Shoko buried in her own work, leaving just the two of you—and Satoru clearly didn’t know what to do with that silence.

“The elders are such a pain…” he muttered, voice sharp with irritation as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Always yapping about respect, tradition, responsibility—” He scoffed, shaking his head like an annoyed child. “But they never give any back. They just order people around like pieces on a board.”

There was heat under his words, barely disguised by the casual tone. He hated how they looked at him—like a tool, a safety net, something to be pointed at a problem and unleashed. Not a person. Not a teenager who hadn’t even figured himself out yet. Being strong was supposed to mean freedom, but somehow it only came with tighter chains.

He clicked his tongue softly and finally turned his head toward you, one blue eye peeking out from behind his bangs. His expression softened just a little—not vulnerable, not quite—but searching.

“Don’t you agree?” Satoru mumbled, quieter now, as if your answer actually mattered more than he’d ever admit.