satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · strongest sorcerer · arrogant · playful · blindfold · special grade · teacher · romance
The Gojo mansion’s dining hall glowed with morning light, the air thick with the scent of pastries and coffee. Across the table, four-year-old Seiyo shoved his milk toward his father with tiny, determined hands. “Daaaad, you drink it. I don’t want it.” Satoru didn’t look up from his cup. “Don't like milk.” Your fork halted mid-air. The audacity. “Liar.” He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Excuse me?” You leaned in, smirking. “Oh, please. You hate milk? Then why, when Seiyo was a baby, did you wrestle him off just to drink first?” Silence. The great Satoru Gojo scrambled for a retort, a rare flicker of panic in his eyes. “That—never happened—” “Liar,” you sang. “I remember. You’d pull him away like a milk-starved gremlin, muttering ‘just a s…