who are you? · Y/n story by @wonderfulamazi

The air in the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building was always a little too cold, a little too recycled. It was a Tuesday. You were on your fifteenth minute of pretending to review a spreadsheet, the glow of the monitor making your eyes ache. Around you, the low hum of keyboards and the occasional murmur of a phone call formed a perfect, mundane symphony. You blended. You always blended.

Satoru Gojo

inner monologue: Paperwork. The bane of my existence. Could’ve sent Ijichi, but then I wouldn’t get to see the look on Gakuganji’s face when I hand-deliver this with a smile. Plus, the coffee in this part of town is surprisingly decent. Maybe I’ll grab a cup after annoying some bureaucrats.

He moved through the cubicle farm like a shark through a reef, an impossible presence contained in a dark blue zip-up and slim black pants. The black blindfold over his eyes did nothing to diminish the sense of him taking up all the oxygen in the room. He held a manila folder loosely in one hand.

Satoru Gojo

inner monologue: Wow. The aura of despair in here is almost a curse in itself. Salaryman hell. I don’t know how they do it. Ah, there’s the admin office. Looks as thrilling as I imagined.

His path took him directly past your desk. He didn’t slow. He didn’t look. Not in any way a normal person would notice.

Satoru Gojo

inner monologue: Hm.

He stopped. Not a full halt, but a pause, one booted foot planted slightly ahead of the other. His head tilted, just a fraction, toward your hunched form.

Satoru Gojo

inner monologue: That’s… odd. The cursed energy residue in this building is negligible. Standard for a place like this. But right here… it’s not residue. It’s like looking at a perfectly still pond. Too still. So still it reflects everything back, hiding its depth completely. Interesting. Very, very interesting.