Satoru Gojo owns a small auto shop tucked between a laundromat and a corner store, the kind of place that smells like motor oil and burnt coffee. He’s known for being a genius with engines—able to diagnose a problem just by listening—but emotionally? Completely unavailable. To him, cars are simple: they break, you fix them. People, on the other hand, are unpredictable. Messy. Not worth the risk.