Chapter Text
October gifted to Kyoto a magical appearance, the orange leaves hid the streets and the city was soaked with the scent of the endless rainy days.
It was already fall, and the last time they had a reunion was in March, when the cherry blossoms had tinged Tokyo in pink and a faint sun had warmed her skin.
Indeed, the occasional reunions with her generation of sorcerers were always quite an event for Iori Utahime.
Actually, it was an event for all of her peers. They used to catch at someone’s apartment, once in Tokyo and once in Kyoto, at least four times a year, and order a classy and expensive dinner, accompanied with a cascade of fine sake.
Her place was scheduled for the meeting of that night and Utahime was dressing up for the pleasant evening.
She had opted for a short dark purple tube dress which left a deep naked spot on her back. It gave her a really girly appearance which she decided to snap a bit wearing a pair of white plain sneaker and her ever-present cream colored ribbon.
"You look amazing, Utahime!" Shoko stated while she approached her best friend in her bedroom.
Just the day before, Utahime had begged Shoko to join her earlier than the others so they could have gotten dressed together and could have set the table.
"You too, Shoko!" Utahime answered with a sincere smile. Utahime had shoved Shoko into a plain blue dress, forcing her friend out of the casual jumper and jeans outfit.
In that late afternoon, her lounge was already filled with her peers which were cheerfully exchanging chatters in small groups, sipping light drinks and admiring the view from Utahime’s apartment: the slightly snow-capped mountains and the sun sinking between the highest peaks.
“Good evening, Utahime!” Yuki Tsukumo greeted the host, sporting her usually seductive smile and an enticing little red dress which fitted her as a glove,
“Yuki-san, good to see you again!” Utahime answered with a soft nod, in a perfect Japanese style.
“Where is my dear Satoru, Utahime?”
“He likes to be waited, Yuki,” Shoko interfered the exchange between the two sorceresses, placing a filled stemware in the blonde’s hand. Inwardly, Utahime thanked her best friend for saving her from the uncomfortable topic that Yuki was undoubtedly ready to touch, namely how great and unrivalled Satoru Gojo was, not only on the battlefield, but also under the sheets. The blonde sorceress and the white-haired man had indeed spent a long time in the past enjoying each other’s non-cursed-related skills, but they'd never been officially together and Yuki had agreed to share the man with other women as she also had welcomed other partners in her own bed. Anyway, after a couple of years, he had declared himself officially bored of their profitable friendship.
It was Gojo’s nature, a one-night stand kind of man who did not want to be involved in worthless relationship.
Listening how the sorceress was explaining to Shoko her brand new plan to get Gojo back into her bed, at least for one night after so many years, Utahime gladly left to cheer the other guests: an always imperturbable Nanami and the gloomy Ichijii on one side were occupying the stools of her cornered little lounge bar, behind where she stored expensive alcohol bottles on the shelves, and later Atsuya Kusakabe and Mei Mei, who seemed more on the intent of flirting than chatting, but they had always been a bit unclear in their boundaries.
A persistent ring brought Utahime's attention back after she had lost her concept of time in illustrating the progress of her students to the awkward couple.
At the door, a really hot and electric blue dressed up Gojo was greeting Utahime with his most charming smile. He was casually leaning on the doorway, his round sunglasses slightly slipping down his nose, revealing just a hint of that blue eyes of his and, finally, in his right hand a stunning bouquet of orange lilies.
“These,” he started, handing gently the bouquet to Utahime, “are for my favourite host ever!”
“Oh, thank you Gojo, this is quite unexpected from you and they are..” Utahime trailed off, darting a wary glance to the white-haired man, “they are very beautiful.”
“As you, Utahime. Tonight you look glorious!” he smirked even deeper as he made a step back to process better her entire shape.
“You are acting weird, where is the teasing Gojo, has he taken a day off?” she mocked, still suspicious of his action.
“Oh yes, but only when you are out of that miko dress of yours.”
A smile tugged at his lips, in blatant mockery and Sakura knew it was time for a little revenge. Utahime turned to lead him to the rest of the group, hyper aware he had just came to face with her backless dress. Uthaime could sense his covered eyes lazily dragging his eyes along her whole figure, enjoying every single stop of his trip.
“I’ll find a vase for the flower, you can join the others,” she suggested to the white-haired man, with a sly smirk.
Between a dish and a sip of sake, the atmosphere during the dinner got pleasant and hilarious, sometimes also fairly embarrassing, as it should be between friends.
“Utahime dear,the next time we'll come here we want to find your man at home as well!” Mei Mei giggled from the other end of the table, therefore everybody had heard her and were most likely ready to join the conversation.
“Oh, lucky me I have still sometimes to find a man before I am scheduled as the next host.” Utahime played along with her colleague. A soft laughter rose from the table.
“Mhh, maybe is that ribbon which keeps them away, Utahime. A little too childish, men could dislike it.” Yuki observed while gesturing at her clasp of fabric.
Everyone who got to know Utahime, was aware of her fondness to her ribbon, that was why Yuki’s observation upset the purplish-haired woman, but before she could reply a brisk voice interfered, “I do like the ribbon."
Gojo shrugged and gave a sweet smirk to Utahime who was sincerely taken aback from his statement, whereas the blonde woman furrowed her brows, staring at the sorcerer, whose eyes were just on Utahime, though.
“Ok! Dessert time!” Shoko snapped, changing the argument and releasing the tension built up in the room. Utahime held her astonished gaze with Gojo’s one for just a second more and then stood up to help Shoko serving the last dish, aknwoledging with a curt nod.
The rest of the evening was uneventful and they enjoyed each other company until late night.
When everybody left, Shoko, who was staying at Utahime's place for the night, helped her to clean up while commenting the evening, until the medic's attention was caught by the orange lilies nestled in a vase.
“Who brought those flowers, Utahime?” the medic asked curiously.
“Gojo did,” Utahime answered, flatly.
“Mmh,” the medic murmured to herself. Why Gojo had bought flowers to Utahime? They could not stand each other for three minutes, and more precisely why orange lilies? Shoko asked herself if Utahime was aware that the orange lilies stand for the passion of love, but then she guessed that not even Satoru knew the meaning and he probably picked them up because they were truly expensive flowers and he just wanted to be impressive.
Dismissing definitively the thought, the two friends went to bed, a long and stressful schedule was waiting for them the day after: a long day at the hot springs.
It has been two weeks since his dinner at Utahime’s house and Satoru Gojo’s mind was playing him some naughty tricks by reminding him, from time to time, her backless and ridiculous almost non-existent length of that damned dress she had worn that night.
He was so used to see her in the miko dress, that every event in which she was allowed to show more skin, he found himself fascinated and captured by the black-haired sorceress. Yet, reunion after reunion, year after year, the impact she was having on him was growing stronger and and the great Gojo, the most powerful sorcerer of Japan, could not understand the deeper meaning of his reaction to her. Only once his emotions had overwhelmed him, but the situation had been more...delicate.
Now, instead the vivid signs of attraction were so evident that even the white-haired man could not ignore their existence.
Dragged by these thoughts, he was casually wandering in the central streets of Tokyo, hands shoved in his pockets, when a lilac fabric in a shop window caught his attention. He stopped his pace and leaned down to observe better the interlaced silky fabric, its high-class material making it disgustingly pricey, “It is perfect!” he exclaimed standing up suddenly, ready to draw on his immeasurable bank account.
An unexpected doorbell rang, awaking Utahime in a foggy Friday morning. Reluctantly, she left her warm bed to open up.
“Hi, there is a package for Utahime Iori!” the mailman who used to deliver the packages she ordered on internet was standing on her front door, when Utahime was not really expecting anything that she could remember.
“Mm, fine, thank you.” was her sleepy answer.
The young postal worker gave her the box and greeted her a good morning, leaving Utahime alone for the inspection of the box. While closing the door behind her, she noticed that the box was shipped from Osaka and was, indeed, sent to Utahime Iori in Kyoto.
She unwrapped the cardboard box to find inside a more elegant black wooden one and carefully observed the content: on a blue cushion was placed a lovely silky ribbon shaded in a classy lilac.
Utahime’s jaw dropped at the sight of the fine garment. As she collected it from its container, a small piece of paper, nestled in the ribbon, fell on the floor. The black-haired woman knelt to take the paper which, in an unfamiliar handwriting, quickly reported,
Lovely Utahime,
I saw this classy ribbon and it made me think of you,
Yours, I.
“I”? Who was “I”, now? She thought.
An indefinite number of questions flashed in her mind, while she read again and again the note, as searching for hidden meaning. Reluctantly she untied the ribbon she was wearing in order to change it with the new one, which truly seemed to be made for her hair.
In Tokyo, Gojo smirked when a notification on his locked screen phone informed him that his package was correctly delivered in Kyoto.