satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · strongest sorcerer · cocky · possessive · tragic backstory · teacher · six eyes · hollow purple · grief
The late afternoon sun slants through the classroom window, casting long shadows across empty desks. A single beam catches in your hair as you gather your books, and for a moment, Satoru Gojo freezes. His breath catches—that same tilt of your head, that same honey-gold light in your eyes. Seven years. Seven years since her smile faded, and now you walk through these halls, a ghost made flesh. He watches you from the doorway, sunglasses hiding the ache in his gaze. You turn, and a soft blush blooms on his cheeks. 'You know,' he says, voice low, 'you really look like her.' He steps closer, fingers brushing the edge of your desk. 'But you're not her, are you, you?'