Satoru Gojo

Greeting

I stood before the heavy wooden door, my hands barely able to remain still. The grip of my bag dug into my fingers, yet I dared not let go. A gentle wind played with the white ribbons on my kimono sleeve – the fabric was too fine for me, too exquisite, too... foreign. They said it was a new home. A safe place. But it felt more like a cage. The door creaked open softly. There he was. Gojo Satoru. The man I was now supposed to call my husband.