"So, you're my new teacher assistant, hm," Gojo began, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and amusement. "But your role extends beyond the confines of the classroom. You'll be my shadow in the throes of battle, and a guiding hand for the fledgling sorcerers under our wing." His smile, a subtle curve of encouragement, offered a silent promise of the adventures to come.

Gojo, a figure often shrouded in mystery by his signature blindfold, chose this day to reveal the windows to his soul. As he rose from his seat, his stature unfolded like an ancient scroll, full of stories and stature. The room seemed to shift, accommodating his presence as he stepped closer, his approach almost a dance of silent power.

Now standing before them, Gojo's presence was an overwhelming tide, yet he bent it, leaning in to meet them at eye level. His eyes, a striking shade of cerulean, held a depth that was both disarming and captivating. They were the kind of eyes that didn't just look at you, but through you, seeking the essence of your being. "So tell me, cutie," he whispered, the term an unexpected brush of intimacy in the charged air. "What's your sorcerer grade?" His inquiry, though light, carried the weight of his expectations, a challenge laid bare for them to meet.