[If you ask me, I remember seeing a meme about how both Gojos lost—one to a Kit-Kat and the other to depression. Then, another comment pointed out, "After feeling rejected, he became the strongest sorcerer of our generation." It made me laugh at first, so I captured that moment's idea in a brief introduction. Enjoy it.]

While examining some Hina dolls, reminiscing about their potential use in sealing curses, a golden canvas appeared in the shop...

Hina dolls are more than just traditional crafts. They represent an unwavering dedication, hands working with precision and passion to breathe life into an ideal of beauty. When I look at them, I don't just see a delicate figure dressed in a kimono, but also the effort and patience woven into every fold, into every brushstroke of their face. After all, I enjoyed creating them once. It's not just the detail, the perfection in the makeup, or the precision of the kimonos—it's what they represent: a legacy.

In my youth, when I still believed in the possibility of a normal life, I spent hours perfecting every detail, from the exact shade of blush on their cheeks to the symmetry of their eyes. It's a silent dialogue between the craftsman and the doll, a constant attempt to capture that spark of humanity in something that can never breathe. These dolls aren't like the ones little girls play with daily. They are ceremonial, often passed down from parents to children. In the past, they were handmade, though nowadays, they are mass-produced. Everything demands absolute concentration, almost like a cursed technique. But here, there's no destruction—only creation. Isn't that beautiful?

I suppose almost no one understands my passion for this art. Even knowing this, why dedicate myself to something so... antiquated and so mismatched with my personality?
"How elegant! Now this is art, isn't it?"
"No, this doesn't suit you at all, Sensei."
"This is perfect for my secret collection of fancy things! Well, if I had one, of course."
"They wouldn't last a week there."

I can still imagine the remarks my students would make if they ever found out. And yes, the irony isn't lost on me. I, the strongest man in the world, appreciating and reflecting on something so delicate. But maybe that's precisely why I admire them. Because, unlike me, they don't need strength to be eternal. They always were in my mind.

Although they hold a different meaning, to me, Hina dolls are my connection to the past, to my eccentric and tolerant grandfather—one of the few people I truly respected. They reflect how I see the world: imperfect, yes, but filled with details worth appreciating. They don't choose their purpose, yet they fulfill it. I, on the other hand, am still searching for mine. Perhaps that's why I stop to look, even if only for a moment. The past always seems more beautiful in hindsight, doesn't it?

And perhaps, in perfecting them, I'm searching for something else. A way to prove that even something fragile, something seemingly ornamental, can possess hidden strength. Maybe, in a way, they're a reflection of myself. After all, I'm no longer Wakana Gojo, the young artisan who hid behind Hina dolls, but Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer.

"Gojo-kun?"

And yet, a person's weakness takes on many forms, not always physical or technical. Sometimes, it's a persistent whisper, a buried longing. Ah, what a perfectly timed encounter.

"Is it really you?! I knew Mei Mei-san wasn't lying."

Her voice was like a burst of energy, lighting up a corner of my heart I thought I had left behind. Marin Kitagawa stood there, looking at me with that blend of genuine enthusiasm and overwhelming surprise that had always defined her.

"Kitagawa-san… it's been a while," I replied with a smile that tried to appear casual, though my mind was already calculating how to explain this unlikely crossing of paths.

"I can't believe it! What are you doing here? In a Hina doll shop? Is it nostalgia or…?"

"A hobby, nothing more," I lied with the ease of someone who knows the truth would be far too heavy.

"Hobby? You're not fooling me, Gojo-kun. You've always taken these things seriously." Marin stepped closer, clearly unwilling to let the topic go. "But that doesn't explain why you disappeared like that. Not a word, not a message. It was like you decided to... I don't know, erase that part of your life."

Her tone was less accusatory than it should've been, and far sadder than I was ready to confront.

"Things got complicated," I said, my gaze shifting to the dolls on the counter. "There were responsibilities I couldn't ignore."

"And does that mean you had to abandon everything else? The people who cared about you?"

That question hit me harder than any curse ever could. Because no matter how much I tried to justify my choices, the truth was that I had run away. Not just from a normal life, but from a version of myself I believed could never coexist with the Satoru Gojo everyone expected me to be.

Marin looked at me silently for a moment, then let out a sigh.
"You know, I always thought you were amazing. Not just because you were so talented, but because you cared about what you did. You really cared. But now… I don't know. It's like you're trying to be something else, something you don't even fully understand."

I didn't know how to respond. All that remained was the echo of her words and the weight of something I had been avoiding for a long time.

P.D: I hope you all enjoyed reading this; thank you so much for your support. I'll be launching a soon, and I'd truly appreciate your collaboration. Have a great day!