MHA; Gojo Vs Sukuna

**Chapter Four: Divergent Paths**

The café was a haven of luxury, its atmosphere serene and polished. The soft hum of conversations blended with the clinking of silverware, creating a soothing symphony. Gojo Satoru sat at his table, his fork hovering over the last bite of vanilla cream cake. The dessert had been a masterpiece, each layer a testament to the skill of the pastry chef. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were momentarily softened as he savored the final morsel.

The phone in his pocket buzzed, breaking the tranquility. Gojo glanced at the screen, his reflection staring back at him from the black surface. The caller ID read **Father**. He sighed, his smirk fading slightly as he answered the call.

"Hello," he said, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

"Gojo!" his father's voice boomed through the phone, loud enough to make Gojo pull the device away from his ear. "You finally answered me!"

Gojo's expression shifted to one of mild annoyance. "I can hear you just fine, you know," he said dryly.

"You foolish boy," his father continued, his tone a mix of frustration and exasperation. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? I had to track your credit card transactions just to find out you're lounging in one of Tokyo's most expensive hotels!"

Gojo's eyes flicked upward, taking in the ornate ceiling of the café. The chandeliers sparkled, their light reflecting off the polished surfaces. So, he was in Tokyo. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed brought a strange sense of clarity. His gaze drifted to the other patrons—wealthy couples, businesspeople, and socialites—all enjoying their evening in this bubble of opulence.

"Are you even listening to me?" his father barked.

"Yes," Gojo replied, his tone flat.

"What do you mean, 'yes'?!" his father snapped. "Tomorrow is your engagement! Don't tell me you're planning to rebel at a time like this. You've already caused enough trouble by disappearing for an entire day before the ceremony!"

Gojo's eyebrows shot up, his mind racing. Engagement? What was his father talking about? He leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes narrowing as he processed the information.

"The Yaezorozu family will be here by sunset tomorrow for dinner and the engagement," his father continued, his voice rising. "Don't you dare embarrass me in front of them, Satoru!"

Before Gojo could respond, the line went dead. He stared at the phone, his reflection staring back at him from the black screen. "Yaezorozu?" he muttered to himself. "Where have I heard that name before?"

---

Meanwhile, in the grim underbelly of another city, Sukuna stumbled through the darkened streets. His stomach churned violently, and beads of sweat dripped down his face. He leaned against a crumbling wall, his breathing ragged.

"That bastard," he muttered, his voice strained. "He sold me expired ramen. You're telling me those coins were only worth spoiled food? Someone could die eating that garbage!"

The contrast between his world and Gojo's couldn't have been starker. While Gojo lounged in a luxurious hotel, Sukuna navigated a neighborhood that seemed to exist in perpetual decay. The streets were littered with trash, the air thick with the stench of alcohol and smoke. Graffiti covered the walls, their colors faded and peeling. The occasional flicker of a broken streetlamp cast eerie shadows, and the sound of distant shouting echoed through the alleys.

Sukuna's brown hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. His plain gray shirt and black jeans were a stark contrast to the filth around him, but they did little to make him blend in. Every pair of eyes in the area seemed to follow him—some filled with hunger, others with malice.

He pushed himself off the wall, his legs unsteady. "At least walking is helping with the pain," he muttered, his voice low and bitter.

---

Back in Tokyo, Gojo hailed a taxi, his suitcase rolling smoothly behind him. The city lights reflected off the sleek black car as it pulled up to the curb. The driver stepped out, opening the door for Gojo with a polite nod.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.

"The bullet train station," Gojo replied, his tone calm and collected.

As the taxi sped through the city, Gojo stared out the window, his blue eyes reflecting the neon lights. The contrast between his world and Sukuna's was almost laughable. While Sukuna trudged through filth and decay, Gojo was whisked away in comfort and luxury.

At the train station, Gojo purchased a ticket with ease, the sleek black credit card in his wallet seemingly limitless. He boarded the bullet train, its interior pristine and modern. The lights inside were soft, casting a warm glow over the plush seats. Gojo leaned back, his suitcase resting beside him, and watched as the city lights blurred into streaks of color outside the window.

---

In the other city, Sukuna finally reached a river on the outskirts of the slums. The water was dark, its surface reflecting the faint light of the stars above. He knelt by the edge, cupping the water in his hands and drinking deeply. The cool liquid soothed his stomach, the pain gradually subsiding.

He sat back, his breathing steadying as he stared up at the night sky. The stars were bright, their light piercing through the darkness. For a moment, Sukuna allowed himself to relax, his thoughts quieting as he lay back on the grass.

"Is this how an important person like me is received?" he muttered, his voice barely audible.

---

Hours later, Gojo arrived at his family's estate. The house was a masterpiece of modern architecture, its sleek lines and expansive windows exuding elegance. He unlocked the door, the sound of the key turning in the lock echoing through the quiet night.

The interior was just as impressive, the space filled with tasteful decor and expensive furnishings. Gojo rolled his suitcase inside, his footsteps soft on the polished floor.

The only sound came from a small figure at the top of the stairs. A young girl with light blue hair and matching eyes stood there, clutching a white stuffed bear. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, her expression lighting up when she saw Gojo.

"Onii-chan!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy.

Gojo's smirk softened as he looked at her. "I'm back," he said, his tone gentle.

---

The contrast between the two scenes was stark. In one world, a young girl welcomed her brother with innocence and love. In another, a child cried in the shadows, her pain unnoticed by the world.

The inequality of their circumstances was undeniable. Gojo, born into privilege, navigated a world of luxury and opportunity. Sukuna, thrust into squalor, fought to survive in a world that seemed determined to break him.

These disparities would shape their understanding of good and evil, their paths diverging further with each passing moment.

Two boys. Two worlds. And a system that played no favorites.

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