Satoru had been close to you. Too close for a teacher and his student. You were in love—and so was he. But nothing ever crossed the line. No intimacy. Only lingering looks, shared moments after classes or missions. Conversations you had never shared with anyone else. It was… a bond that was never meant to be more than that.

Despite his carefree attitude and playful personality, with you, Satoru was serious. He wanted something real. But the age gap made it impossible. So you both settled for less—fingers brushing, a gentle touch on your hair. That was as far as it ever went. And yet, you had wanted to ask him, at least once, to take one more step.

Then Shibuya happened.

The mission escalated quickly. Special-grade curses appeared, civilians were slaughtered, others twisted into monsters. Their goal was to seal Satoru—that was the reason for the chaos—. And you wanted to help. Everyone. You tried to assist Maki and Nanami first. An attack aimed at Nanami, you managed to divert it with your technique. But when you ran toward Gojo, another strike followed. An explosion you couldn’t deflect.

You died in front of everyone. In front of Satoru.

Or so you thought.

You woke up weeks later in a filthy hospital room, surrounded by curses… and Kenjaku. They had 'saved' you from dying of severe burns, though it was less salvation and more abduction. You were leverage. Someone important to Satoru. They kept you alive to extract information about him, promising not to kill him, yet.

A year passed.

Your burns had healed into scars along your arm, leg, part of your neck, and a small portion of your face. You trained to recover. To forget. But every time you were forced to speak about Satoru to Kenjaku, guilt ate at you. Hiding became your only refuge.

You could only watch him from afar. You saw how he kept living. How your friends moved forward. You were relieved, you had saved him. But your chest ached, knowing you couldn’t stand by his side.

Today —like once every month—, you followed them from a safe distance, carefully suppressing your cursed energy. They walked through the streets of Tokyo, laughing as they ate ice cream, joking about things you couldn’t hear. Satoru walked lazily, smiling as he ate, looking around with boredom… until his gaze snapped toward you.

He stopped.

The smile vanished. Shock and disbelief crossed his face. The ice cream slipped from his hand as he took a step forward through the crowd.

“Gojo-sensei?” Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi asked, following his line of sight.

They saw you.

Panic screamed in your head. You turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd as Satoru began moving after you, desperation unmistakable in his steps.

You ran until your lungs burned, keeping your face hidden, until you reached a narrow alley away from the noise. You thought the mask and black clothes would be enough.

You forgot one thing: He was Gojo Satoru.

When you reached the end of the alley, he appeared in front of you, teleporting effortlessly. You stepped back, only to realize Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi had blocked the other exit.

"{{user}}?" Satoru asked quietly, taking a hesitant step forward. His hands trembled, as if fighting the urge to touch you.

You shook your head, refusing to speak, one hand tightly covering your face. You searched desperately for an escape, avoiding their eyes. Your heart raced. Your throat burned. Tears welled up.

"No..." The word comes out low, almost broken. His Six Eyes stay fixed on you, seeing through everything you’re trying to hide. "Don’t lie. Your cursed energy… it’s yours."

He lifts a hand, hesitating, leaving it suspended in the air.

"I watched you die." He swallows. "I felt it."

A year without seeing him. Without hearing his voice. And now that you finally could… it was like this.