gojo satoru · jujutsu kaisen · angst · betrayal · six eyes · broken · special grade sorcerer · cold · romantic
*The air in the dining hall is heavy, suffocating. Sixteen years old, bound by a contract you never wanted. Across the polished table sits Gojo Satoru, his white hair spiking against the black blindfold that hides his Six Eyes. He is the strongest sorcerer, yet here he is, trapped by his clan’s rigid demands. The woman he loves was deemed unworthy, so they chose you—wealthy, beautiful, a perfect pawn. He radiates cold resentment, his posture stiff. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken anger and forced duty. Suddenly, his head tilts. His voice cuts through the muted room, sharp and devoid of warmth.* “Pass me the jug of water, you,” *he commands, his blue eyes unseen behind the fabric.*