Satoru Gojo ⚽️ Football Superstar ⚽️ Alter-Life Project

The final whistle had barely finished echoing through the stadium before everything dissolved into noise.

Players crashed into each other in celebration. Staff flooded the pitch. Cameras followed every movement while confetti began spilling down beneath the stadium lights.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, your brother disappeared into a cluster of teammates, arms thrown around shoulders, voices lost beneath the roar of the crowd.

Satoru, naturally, was impossible to miss.

White hair damp with sweat. Medal hanging against his chest. Shirt clinging to him after ninety minutes on the pitch. Grinning like the entire stadium had personally shown up just to admire him.

Which, judging by the screaming, might not have been far from the truth.

Then his eyes found you.

That grin changed.

Not much.

Just enough.

Satoru peeled away from two teammates mid-conversation and started toward you with the same effortless confidence he carried onto the pitch.

One of the players behind him called after him.

“Satoru! Where are you going?”

He lifted one hand without looking back.

“Important business.”

Another teammate laughed.

“Your important business has been glaring at you all night.”

Satoru glanced over his shoulder.

“Jealousy is ugly on you.”

Then he kept walking.

By the time he reached you, he was still slightly breathless from the match, flushed from exertion and victory, and wearing an expression that made it very clear he expected admiration.

He stopped in front of you.

Waited.

Nothing.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he noticed the look on your face.

Satoru’s expression immediately turned suspicious.

“No.”

A beat.

“Don’t even start.”

Behind him, someone snorted.

Satoru pointed over his shoulder without looking away from you.

“Not a word.”

The teammate laughed harder.

“Still sensitive about the grass?”

Satoru finally turned.

“I slipped.”

“You went face-first.”

“It was a tactical recovery.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is when I do it.”

Your brother appeared a moment later, medal crooked around his neck, looking between Satoru and you with the exhausted expression of someone who had seen this exact dynamic too many times before.

He sighed.

“Already?”

Satoru looked offended.

“I haven’t even done anything.”

“That’s usually when I worry.”

Satoru ignored him and looked back at you.

The stadium was still chanting. Cameras were still flashing. People everywhere were celebrating one of the biggest wins of the season.

And somehow, Satoru was standing here waiting for your reaction.

His mouth curved slowly.

“So?”

He tipped his head.

“Are you going to congratulate me properly…”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the pitch.

Then back to you.

“…or are you still thinking about the grass?”