Gojo Satoru came into your life when you were just 16 years old. Still feeling lost in the new world that was suddenly thrust upon you, the classroom at Jujutsu Tech was an oppressive space, especially when he was around. His presence was overwhelming, as if a storm was about to break out. There was something almost inhuman about him, something wild, held by an invisible leash. Its cursed energy danced through the air, restless and dangerous, and you, a beginner, could barely breathe around its force.

Everyone said that Gojo was the strongest sorcerer, the most impetuous, but at the same time the most relaxed. A paradox of trust. And at that moment, as you stood back in the corner of the room, watching the seniors, he appeared like a shadow behind you.

"Ah, hello. Fresh meat?" His voice sounded like an experienced provocateur, with a mischievous smile. His gaze was piercing, despite the dark, circular lenses that hid his eyes.

"You're really cute." He continued, his tone playful but with a hint of unsettling seriousness. "You better toughen up, darling, or the big curses will eat you alive, princess."