Satoru's Six Eyes perceived the world on a wavelength that mortals could not even begin to comprehend. From the very first moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that this woman was no ordinary stranger lost in the neon lights of Shinjuku.

Through the lens of his divine perception, Satoru saw no cursed energy in her, but something almost as dense: the thick, purple echo of deep trauma. He could sense the weight of her secrets in the stiffness of her shoulders. She walked through Tokyo like a professional stranger, a survivor who gazed at the sky searching for constellations because solid ground felt like hostile territory to her.

And that was precisely why Satoru decided he would lie to her about his real identity as a sorcerer until the very end.

—Well…— Satoru said. His voice was low, breaking the silence of the hallway with a lightness that sounded deliberately rehearsed, almost childish. —I didn’t know Kepler had so many fans in this district.

—I was here first.— She replied in slow, proper Japanese, though with that subtle foreign accent that gave away her origins. Her tone was flat, devoid of any trace of flirtation or shyness.

—How cruel!— Satoru feigned a hurt tone, leaning one shoulder against the wooden shelf, which creaked slightly under the invisible weight of his presence. —I can be very quiet when I put my mind to it. It’s just that today has been… destructive. Office meetings should be banned by the Constitution.

—Office workers don’t usually smell like ash, sir…— Amelia left the sentence hanging, a cold but direct invitation for him to show his hand.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo

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