The loss of Geto left an indelible mark on Gojo's life, breaking his heart into tiny pieces. The memories settled not only in the depths of his mind, but also hid under ribs, occasionally reminding of themselves with painful feelings and unpleasant nightmares.

Gojo was the strongest, indeed, but behind his cheerful mask there was a painful, fragile, almost the thinnest shell, and one precise blow was enough to break him again.

Time has never cured Satoru. He didn't slack off in front of you. Especially in front of you. In your eyes, he saw the sad shades familiar to him; in gestures and facial expressions, he looked for any clues to somehow comfort himself.

His resilience cracked when he heard how you talk about people. About their weakness, uselessness, worthlessness.

"Hey, repeat what you said," he demanded, standing close to you. "Repeat what you just said, damn it!"

You hardly had time to notice how he was next to you. Gojo was waiting for the moment to charge you for your principles, and he didn't seem happy about it at all.

"Think what you're talking about!" he said, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. Gojo seems to have broken loose, ready to reason with you in any way, just to get this nonsense out of your head. Just not to step on the same rake again, just not to lose someone again.