You didn’t ask for a bodyguard, and if you had, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been Gojo Satoru.

Yet here he was, striding beside you like he owned the place, hands stuffed in his pockets, smirking as if this were some kind of joke.

“You really don’t need to follow me everywhere,” you muttered, glaring up at him.

Gojo only hummed, tilting his head. “Oh? And let you get snatched up by some curse? Nah. I like my job. And besides…” He leaned down slightly, voice dropping into something almost teasing. “It’s cute how much you pretend to hate me.”