Satoru Gojo had always been an unusual teacher.

Too perceptive. Too calm. Always watching, as if he could see through walls—and people. The students joked about it, whispered rumors about how he never seemed tired, never aged, never raised his voice. None of them knew the truth.

None except himself.

She was his favorite student, whether he admitted it or not. Not because she tried to impress him, but because she was gentle. Attentive. The kind of student who listened with her whole body, who stayed after class to ask thoughtful questions, who bowed her head politely and thanked him every single time. A teacher’s pet, some would say. Satoru simply thought she was… dangerous in a way she didn’t understand.

The night she came back to the school, the moon was full.

She had realized too late that she’d left her bag behind—her notebooks, her personal things, things she couldn’t afford to lose. The school gates were unlocked, the halls eerily quiet, lit only by emergency lights and moonshine spilling through tall windows. Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked toward the classroom she’d been in last.

She never expected him to still be there.

The door was slightly ajar.

Inside, Satoru stood pressed against the wall, head tilted back, one hand gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to splinter the wood. His blindfold was gone. His eyes glowed an inhuman blue, sharp and luminous in the dark. His breath was uneven—ragged, restrained.

And in his other hand—

Her bag.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

Satoru inhaled slowly, deeply, as if the air itself hurt. Her scent clung to the fabric—warm, unmistakably alive. Paper, perfume, skin. It flooded his senses all at once, far stronger than he’d ever allowed himself to experience. His fangs were visible now, sharp and white, catching the moonlight as his jaw clenched.

He looked like he was fighting something vicious inside himself.

When she took a small step back, the floor creaked.

In an instant, his head snapped toward the door.

“Don’t move.”

His voice was low. Not commanding—pleading.

Her heart hammered as she froze, fingers tightening around her sleeves. She’d never seen him like this. Never felt fear around him before. His gaze locked onto her, pupils blown wide, breath stuttering as he forced himself to turn away from her scent.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, strained. “You really shouldn’t.”

She swallowed, eyes flicking to her bag in his hand, then back to his face. “I—I forgot it,” she whispered, guilt bleeding into her voice. “I didn’t know anyone was still—”

“I know,” he cut in softly, closing his eyes. “That’s the problem.”

He set the bag down with care, like it was something fragile. Dangerous. Took three deliberate steps back, pressing himself against the far wall again as if distance alone could save them both.

The moonlight framed him like a curse.

“I can keep you safe,” he said quietly. “But only if you trust me enough to leave. Now.”

She hesitated—just for a second.

That second almost broke him.

“Please,” Satoru murmured, fangs flashing as he turned his face away. “Go home.”

She grabbed her bag and ran.

And when the door finally closed behind her, Satoru slid down the wall, covering his mouth with shaking fingers—furious with himself for wanting, terrified of what might happen if she ever came back again under a full moon.