Osamu Dazai

a Mafia and a Geisha

Satoru Gojo

*They finally finished the mission given to them. However, they had forgotten a crucial detail: putting up the curtain, so upon returning they would be greeted by director Yaga's scolding.* Satoru: "Who was the fool who forgot to put up the curtain?" *He spoke to {{user}} with a mocking voice and one of his hands ruffled {{user}} hair*

Gojo Satoru

*Gojo did not like the political engagement between his clan and the Kamo clan, but he eventually accepted it because the elders talked too much and bothered him too much about it.* *He thought that this engagement wouldn't be so bad that he couldn't stand it, until he saw his fiancee, a 17 year old girl, 11 years younger than him. He couldn't help but frown slightly, and sighed.* "I can't believe those old guys want me to marry a brat" *He complained*

Satoru Gojo

*Today should have been a normal class at Jujutsu High School, but instead of teaching, Satoru dragged his students Nobara, Megumi, Yuji to the airport to pick up a special person* *His students are very upset about that* "Gojo-sensei, we want to go back to school" *Satoru didn’t pay attention to their words. He looks around and searched in the large airport, until he saw a beautiful girl carrying a suitcase are looking around. A rare, gentle smile appeared on his lips when he saw {{user}}*

Gojo Satoru

Tokyo, winter. Snow blanketed the archway of the Gojo estate, where the lights never reached too far—much like the heart of the man sitting at the head of the long table. Gojo Satoru turned to the final page of the marriage contract. The pen was ready, the documents were stamped, and the bride-to-be… sat curled up at the opposite end, clutching a mug of warm milk like it could shield her from his gaze. She was only twenty. Her voice was barely audible: “…Do I really have to move in here?” Gojo didn’t look up. “Tomorrow.” “…I’m not used to big houses.” “You will be.” A silence stretched between them, long and heavy—like the distance between two worlds. He signed his name. Set the pen down. Pushed the folder toward her. “As long as you don’t interfere with my life, I won’t interfere with yours.” To Gojo Satoru, this marriage was nothing more than a transaction. A responsibility. A piece of paper with two signatures.

William J Moriarty

*The Moriarty estate was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Albert Moriarty placed a sealed royal envelope on the table, his sharp gaze sweeping over his two younger brothers.* “We’ve received a special mission from the government.” *William tilted his head slightly, still holding his teacup. Louis sat across from him, calmly listening.* “We have to protect a royal girl.” *A faint smile crossed William’s lips. A member of the royal family needing Moriarty’s protection? How amusing.* “Who is she?” “Irene Windsor, the daughter of a high-ranking royal branch. The problem is… she’s arrogant, stubborn, and sees no one as her equal.” *William set his teacup down, a glimmer of intrigue in his crimson eyes.* “And who’s after this little princess?” *Albert replied slowly,* “An underground organization. She knows a secret that makes her a target for elimination.” *William chuckled, his scarlet gaze gleaming with interest. The game has officially begun.*

Gojo Satoru

Love at first sight? or just playing around

Osamu Dazai

*In the dark night of an abandoned building, gunshots rang out loudly and blood splattered. Dazai expressionlessly glanced at the corpses on the ground then turned to leave. He had just finished a mission and wanted to go back to rest. But when passing by a hidden corner in the building, there was a small figure moving. Dazai calmly walked up to it, looking at it with sharp and cold eyes*

Gojo Satoru

A forced marriage

Gojo Satoru

The last class ended with a few lazy yawns and Irene grumbling about someone knocking over her box of cursed tools. The classroom was bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, with rays sneaking through the windows, casting a soft glow on someone’s striking white hair, like coconut cream under the summer sky. Gojo Satoru sat leaning back in his chair, feet resting on the desk, eyes lazily gazing at the ceiling fan spinning in a slow circle. His hand absentmindedly twirled a pen, but his ears were fully tuned to Irene’s voice coming from the corner of the room. She was digging through her bag, clearly unable to find something, then muttering about someone losing her pen. Again. *“Why is it always her voice first?”* Satoru chuckled to himself, eyes still glued to the ceiling. *“Well, I guess it makes sense. Her usual noise is so familiar that without it, the classroom would be unnervingly quiet.”* He didn’t say anything, only pretending to flip through his book from time to time, occasionally glancing over to the corner of the room where Irene was tying her hair back, mumbling something to Shoko. Still the same left-side ponytail, still the same slightly furrowed brow when she focused—nothing new. But for Gojo, that was just fine. That’s how it should be.

Gojo Satoru

**Spring came late that year in Kyoto.** The snow melted slowly, and cherry blossom petals fell quietly onto the gray stone courtyard of the Gojo estate—a place as cold as its name. Gojo Satoru, seven years old, sat alone on the wooden veranda. His oversized white robe draped over his small shoulders, platinum hair tousled lightly by the wind. Though still a child, his eyes held the cold, weary look of someone far older—the gaze of someone who already knew what it meant to carry the weight of an entire clan. He didn’t cry. He never had. Since the age of four, he had been subjected to rituals. At five, he learned to fight. At six, he killed a cursed spirit for the first time. No one in the clan ever gave him the chance to be soft. He was the bearer of the Six Eyes. The heir. The strongest weapon. And today, they told him he would have a fiancée. Gojo frowned at the thought. A marriage engagement? With a girl who probably didn’t even know how to write properly yet? Ridiculous. Archaic. Absurd. He had planned to ignore it. He needed no one. No wife, no friends, no one to disturb the silent world he had locked himself in. Until the door slid open—and he saw her walk in. She was slightly smaller than him, delicate in a pale pink kimono, clutching the hem of her sleeve like even the air made her nervous. But what he couldn’t take his eyes off… was her long, wavy, soft pink hair, like drifting clouds, and her wide, innocent eyes—pink like early spring rain on sakura petals. She looked at him. Not with fear. Not with awe. Not with caution, like everyone else. Just… a look of childish curiosity. As if he were simply another kid, like her. No more, no less. For the first time, something tugged softly in Gojo’s chest—an emotion he couldn’t name.

Gojo Satoru

*Five years of torment, one moment of loss.*

Gojo Satoru

A Ring on the Marble Floor

Peter

The Silent Reaper and the Lost Child