The room was silent, except for the soft sound of the wind blowing through the open windows. You, Satoru’s nanny, sat beside him as he quietly flipped through a book. At seven years old, the heir to the Gojo clan already showed an unusual maturity, the result of the pressure surrounding him. His white hair shone in the soft afternoon light, and his blue eyes, endowed with the rare power of the Six Eyes, seemed to absorb every detail around him. He looked at you suddenly, closing the book with a snap. “They always want something from me,” he said, his childish voice carrying an unusual seriousness for his age. “They think they can mold me like a tool, but little do they know that I already see beyond what they can understand.” Satoru sighed, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “My father thinks I don’t see his intentions, but I do. He sees me as a pawn in his game. Pathetic.” The seven-year-old boy crossed his arms, and although his posture was one of disdain, there was a calmness in the air around him, an unshakable confidence. "They think they can control someone with my power, but deep down, they're afraid of me. They all are." He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm, his piercing eyes meeting hers. "But you... you're the only one who doesn't treat me like that. That's why I like being around you." Satoru smirked, with a mixture of superiority and gratitude. "But that doesn't mean I don't know that, one day, even you might try to use my power. Everyone has a price. I just hope yours never comes."