Gojo Satoru.
He was born into this world with the Six Eyes and Limitless—a tandem that tipped the scales and shattered the foundation of the Jujutsu world.
The Honored One, the man who became the "Kit/Kat" in another life... his accolades were endless.
Even the narrator was glazing him so hard it left a crusty residue at the top of the page.
Yet, beneath the hype, he had earned his seat through a mix of raw talent and a level of hard work that no one could ever strip away.
Inside the Wonderspace, the atmosphere shifted as the "ghosts" watched the feed through Yoichi's eyes.
"Is that really him?" A rapid blink came from Riko Amanai as she stared at the man in the black-tinted glasses.
The boy she remembered was cocky, sure, but this... this was something else.
"Yeah... That's him." A complicated smile tugged at Yu Haibara's mouth.
Despite the tragedies and the weight of the world, time hadn't been able to wash away that insufferable, playful spark in his friend.
"GOJO SATORU! You absolute moron! Why didn't you help us back then?!" Suddenly, a bright, indignant red flushed through Riko's face. Her relief was buried under a mountain of pent-up teenage rage.
"You damn useless, flashy, tall-for-nothing sorcerer!"
A sideways glance was snuck by Toji Fushiguro, who leaned against a nearby pillar and let out a heavy sigh.
Riko-san? Please, can you tone it down a bit? A silent plea was sent by Yoichi.
Her complaints sounded like a high-pitched screech inside his skull.
As the gate creaked open, the domestic peace of the Murakami household shattered.
Standing in the entryway, Michelle's eyes widened.
An awkward silence ensued.
The kind that usually precedes a localized natural disaster.
"Yoichi... again?" A dangerous mix of disbelief and rising heat resonated in Michelle's voice. "I leave you alone for two hours and you come back looking like you fought a juice factory! What on earth did you—"
She stopped dead as she finally noticed the giant in the black glasses looming over her child.
"Yoo-hoo!" A hand was waved by Satoru, his grin widening. "I'm the guy who saved him from a tragic fate involving a very large puddle of juice. Satoru Gojo, at your service! I'm an... expert in youth accidents. Really, it was a miracle I was there."
Yoichi stood there with panic, caught between his mother's suspicious face and Satoru's smug grin.
Michelle crossed her arms, her eyes darting between the two. "A grape truck, Yoichi? Really? You expect me to believe a fruit delivery went rogue on our street?"
"It was a freak accident, Mom! Total disaster!" Yoichi remarked. "Mr. Gojo was a hero! He moved so fast, I didn't even see him step in!"
Satoru nodded solemnly, though the corners of his mouth were twitching. "A hero might be a bit much, but I do what I can. It's a dangerous world out there for kids and produce."
"Fine. If you're both insisting on this story... thank you, Mr. Gojo, for bringing him back in one piece."
A weary breath escaped from Michelle.
Despite the ridiculous story and the shades at night, something about his presence commanded attention. She stepped aside, gesturing toward the living room.
"You seem like a good person, Mr. Gojo. Please, come in for some tea."
"Don't mind if I do!" Satoru replied excitedly.
He flashed Yoichi a quick "I told you so" wink as he passed.
"Yoichi, go get changed," Michelle commanded, her tone soft but firm. "I'll be in the living room with our guest."
Satoru settled onto the sofa with feline grace. Just as he was making himself comfortable, Kiyoshi looked up from his newspaper. "And who... exactly is this?"
A quick summary of the chaotic events was rattled off by Michelle as she smoothed her apron.
"A grape truck? Really?"
"That's the story," Michelle said, heading toward the kitchen.
"I apologize for the inconvenience my son caused you," Kiyoshi said, settling the paper down and bowing. "He has a bit of a magnet for trouble lately."
"It's not a problem, Mr. Murakami," Satoru replied, crossing one long leg over the other. "Honestly, your son is quite the character. Most kids would have been crying their eyes out, but Yoichi handled the 'great purple flood' like a total pro."
"Potential, huh..." Kiyoshi chuckled. "He's a black belt in the making and a genius at investing. Kid's got a head for numbers and a fist for trouble."
"Wait, investing? In 2012? That's a specific kind of talent." Satoru's interest was piqued.
"Can you please tell me the details? I'm starting to think your son is even more unique than I first thought."
The front door clicked shut with a sharp decisive snap. Asuka stepped in, dropping her bag with practiced exhaustion, only to freeze mid-stride. Her eyes traveled upward, tracking the impossible length of the white-haired giant colonizing their sofa.
"Wow," she muttered, her brows drawing together in immediate, territorial suspicion. "A visitor of yours, Dad? He's... definitely not from around here."
Michelle appeared with a tea tray, repeating the "Grape Truck" cover story.
"Hmph. That kid can find some excuse, but he'll never trick me," Asuka snapped. "I know a 'Yoichi Disaster' when I see one, and grape juice doesn't leave bruises. Nice try."
Satoru tilted his head, his posture relaxed. "Kiyoshi-san, is this your daughter?"
"Yes, this is Asuka. She's back from university for the week."
Asuka narrowed her eyes into slits. "Grape juice? Please. Yoichi is a liar, but you're a professional. I don't know your game, but I'm not letting some flashy stranger mess with my brother."
"Kiyoshi-san, is she always this barky?" A sharp, genuine laugh came from Satoru. "I haven't been interrogated this well for a very very long time!"
"He's my brother," Asuka warned, her voice dropping. "Back off."
"Ooh, how scary!~" Satoru cooed, leaning into her personal space. "I like it here. You've got spirit, Asuka-chan! Shame you're not the one I'm after."
'What the hell happened when I was bathing?!'
Realizing the situation was spiraling into a territorial war, Yoichi finally stepped out of the hallway. He had changed into a clean white t-shirt, his wet hair tied back in a small ponytail.
"Okay, okay! Asuka-nee, leave him alone!" Yoichi interrupted. "He really did help me, even if the truck story was... a bit much. Just let it go, alright?"
Asuka huffed, throwing one last suspicious glare at Satoru before finally stepping back, though she didn't look convinced.
Michelle and Kiyoshi, ever the polite hosts, stood up as the guest began to untangle his long limbs from their sofa.
"Oh, are you leaving already, Mr. Gojo?" Michelle asked. "We were just about to start dinner. Please, stay! It's the least we can do."
"Yes, we have plenty," Kiyoshi added, nodding in agreement. "Stay and tell us more about... well, whatever it is you do."
Michelle and Kiyoshi tried to insist, but Satoru was already at the door. "Dinner sounds lovely, but I've got a world to carry on my shoulders! Can't stay in one place too long, or the fans start a riot."
"Good riddance!" A sharp mutter escaped from Asuka's mouth.
"I'll walk him to the gate!" Yoichi stated, jumping at the chance for a private word.
The door clicked shut, muffling Asuka's sharp voice and the domestic clatter of the house.
Outside, the night air felt thin and quiet as Yoichi walked beside Satoru, their shadows stretching long under the dim yellow glow of the streetlights.
For a moment, the theatrical and playful persona faded, replaced by the sound of their footsteps.
"So," Satoru said, breaking the silence without looking down. "Your sister... she's definitely the boss of that house, isn't she?"
Yoichi kicked a pebble, watching it skitter toward the gate. "You have no idea. She's been terrifying since she was six."
"Well, when do I start at Jujutsu High?" The question was tossed out by Yoichi, his tone remarkably casual.
A pause followed as Satoru stopped mid-stride, a look of genuine surprise appearing on his face.
"Jujutsu High? Now? You're still a pipsqueak, Yoichi-kun. Most kids your age are still trying to figure out long division, not Cursed Spirit exorcism."
"I'm bored, Gojo-san," Yoichi muttered, looking up with a glint in his golden eyes.
"And don't worry about the 'old farts' at the top. If they try to put a leash on me, I'll just break the leash. I'm not exactly easy to swallow."
Satoru leaned down, his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose to reveal those piercing, electric blue eyes. "You've got guts! Most people are terrified of the higher-ups, but you're talking about them like they're annoying bugs. I like that. But..."
The man's expression softened, a rare moment of genuine gravity settling into his features. "It's too early for you to handle adult things, Yoichi. Trust me on this one."
"Why the hesitation?" Yoichi frowned. "You saw what I did back there. I can hold my own."
"Oh, I'm confident about your talents. You're a total freak of nature," Satoru chirped, his playful tone returning as he ruffled the boy's hair. "But the Jujutsu world is a dumpster fire of paperwork, politics, and miserable old men. Why trade your elementary school lunch for that headache so soon? Stay a kid for a bit longer. Go play some video games, or whatever it is you do..."
A momentary slip of the mask occurred as Gojo stared at the boy. He saw the same reflection of a world that demanded too much from the gifted, and he wasn't about to let this one be consumed by the system before he had a chance to enjoy his youth.
"You're the future, kid," Gojo said, his grin returning but with a focused edge. "But I'm not recruiting you just yet. I want you to be the one who changes the world, not the one who gets used by it. Stay under the radar for now."
"So you're just going to leave me hanging?" Yoichi shrugged, unbothered.
Satoru pointed a finger at him, his grin widening. "I'll drop by for 'private lessons' to make sure you're staying sharp. Just don't expect me to help you with your math homework! I only deal in the high-stakes stuff."
A two-fingered salute was given as he began to walk away. "See ya, Yoichi-kun! Always keep that head on your shoulders, it's worth a lot of money!"
The tall figure of Satoru Gojo finally dissolved into the evening shadows.
Yoichi watched him go for a moment before turning back toward the house, knowing the real boss battle was waiting just inside the front door.
As soon as he stepped into the entryway, he was met with the sight of Asuka leaning against the wall, her arms crossed and her expression practically vibrating with a demand for answers.
"Okay, spill it," she ordered, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Who was that guy, really? And don't give me any more of that fruit truck nonsense."
"A worthy rival," Yoichi said simply, not breaking his stride.
"Rival? What kind of people are you associated with?"
By the time she realized he was escaping, he was already halfway up the stairs. "Hey! Don't turn your back on me! I'm still talking to you, brat!"
Yoichi closed his door, letting out a long sigh as her muffled protests continued from downstairs.