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After the Goodwill Event ends, Utahime decides they better stay the night and return to Kyoto the next morning well rested and refreshed. Her kids are quick to accept her verdict, wanting to enjoy some of Tokyo's nightlife. With some nudging, she manages to convince them to take Panda's invitation to go to karaoke with the rest of Gojo's students.
She watches them begrudgingly (but secretly excited, she knows) trot after the enthusiastic first years. Todo wraps an arm around Sukuna's vessel—Itadori Yuuji as he prattles about Takada or types, probably. The other boy just looks utterly terrified.
"Ah, the kids are finally getting along," a heavy hand settles on her shoulder and she shudders when she recognizes the voice. "Maybe you did something good with them after all."
"Get off me," she grumbles, pushing Gojo away from her. The bastard laughs. "Show me some respect, will you? Or better yet, leave me alone."
"Sorry, can't do," he grins, "but I can show you to your room instead, how about that?"
"I know where the teachers' wing is. Now beat it."
When he takes her elbow and tugs her forward, she almost bites him. Literally. "I have to make sure you don't get lost," he explains. "Poor Utahime, age is starting to affect her memory."
"Stop touching me," she growls and he lets go, hands up in surrender.
"Fine, fine, but you have to come with me for real," he insists. "Yaga told me to make sure you were settled in alright."
She sighs and, with the airs of the martyr she is, starts making her way to the dorms. Gojo strides to catch up, clearly slowing down to match her pace. Weirdly enough, he remains silent as they walk, occasionally kicking a pebble on their path.
The Tokyo dorms are very similar to the ones in her own school. Tall ceilings, wooden doors lined up neatly on the walls, hundreds of empty rooms. It saddens her a bit to think that the College was built for many more children than it actually housed. Either too many of them had died, or they weren't enough. And if they couldn't even fill a dorm, who knew if they could protect the world from Curses?
"Here we are," Gojo breaks her train of thought.
She blinks and finds an open door leading to a plain room with a twin bed and a small desk in the corner.
"Make yourself at home, take a shower, dinner's at seven—"
"What are you hiding?" She squints at his politeness. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Why would you assume that?" Gojo can't contain his grin and that's enough proof that there's something very fishy going on.
"Out with it, now."
"Sheesh, Utahime, can't I just be nice?"
"You're not nice," she points out, crossing her arms over her chest, "you don't know how to. So just tell me what you want and leave me alone."
He huffs. "Such little faith in me, Utahime. I was just gonna add that if you need anything, you can just knock on my door."
Horror consumes her when he gestures towards the door right in front of hers. Carved in the wood, a three-character name is read: Gojo Satoru.
"No," she whispers.
"That's right, Utahime! We're going to be roommates!"
Utahime takes a long, long bath with water as hot as her skin can handle and comes out red like a shrimp. She finds an old pair of summer pajamas in her night bag and slips into them. The air in the room is chilly, a stark contrast from the warmer environment in the bathroom. It makes her shiver, so she hurries into the bed and under the covers. It's still relatively early, she tells herself, she can take a quick nap before dinner. Just a half an hour lie-down to recover strength and—
She misses dinner.
Her grumbling stomach wakes her up in the middle of the night. She tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but she hasn't had anything since lunch and according to the clock on the wall, it's two fifty four now, which means she is starving.
With a groan, she rolls off the bed and tiptoes her way to the entrance of the room. The floor is cold, she notes, but she didn't bring her slippers. Before opening, she presses an ear to the door, listening for any possible movement in the hallway. There's only silence, so she turns the doorknob as noiselessly as possible and quietly slips out of the room.
If she remembers correctly, the kitchen should be down the corridor to the left, past the rooms. The wooden boards creak under her feet and she winces, looking around to make sure no one woke up. When she hears no movement or scurry from the rest of the sleepers, she continues walking.
The kitchen is dark, the only light coming from the stars and the moon through the windows. She doesn't dare to flip up the switch, so she just wanders around blindly, hoping to find the fridge or a cupboard she can raid to satisfy her hunger.
Just as she's turning around the kitchen island, someone calls out to her. "Utahime?"
She jumps in shock. Her right knee slams against the side of the counter and she hisses in pain. "Fu—ck," she drawls, pressing a hand against her injury. Under her fingers, she feels a thick, viscous liquid slide down her leg.
Someone shuffles quickly to her side. "Holy shit, Utahime, are you okay?"
Well, the universe must be screwing with her.
"Go away, Gojo," she says through clenched teeth as she hops to the closest chair and sits down heavily.
"You're bleeding," he notes.
"Well, no shit, I just sliced up my knee."
"There should be a first aid kit here somewhere," His voice is drowned amidst more shuffling and the sound of cupboards opening and closing. "Hmm, let's see... Here."
He clears out the island and taps the top, as if indicating her to... sit on it?
"Just leave it there, I'll handle it," she grumbles. Little needles dig into her skin when she tries to move. Damn it.
"Now, now, don't be so stubborn," he crouches down in front of her and she frowns. It's his fault she got hurt in the first place, can't he just leave her alone? "Come on, I'll help you."
"No, just go away, Goj—ah!"
He picks her up from her chair with ease, as if she didn't weigh more than a feather. She should feel incensed, but her first thought is that his hands are warm. Insultingly warm. Did he just rub a thumb over her thigh as he delicately placed her on top of the counter? That bastard.
"See, it wasn't so hard?" He says, but his eyes are fixed on the spot she is still covering with a hand. Blood seeps through her fingers, unable to be contained by the pressure anymore. "Can I see?"
Begrudgingly, she complies. The wound is a nasty little thing, a gash that splits her skin in two. It's wider than she thought, with a spot where skin had been brutally ripped off. Just how sharp could a kitchen island be? She would have to talk to Yaga about it. These things are a hazard.
Meanwhile, Gojo's fingers diligently run up and down her knee, gently pressing into the edges that were already starting to bruise. He pops the kit open and pulls out a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol. "Okay, this is going to sting."
"I know how rubbing alcohol works," she mutters, "just get it over with, will you?"
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
He presses the cotton ball to the exposed flesh, and goddamnit, it does sting. But she digs her nails into her palm and takes it like a grown-up. She is an accomplished semi-grade one sorcerer and a renowned teacher, she can't be making a fuss over disinfecting a wound.
Carefully, he dabs the borders, wiping away the excess blood and pus that oozes out. She takes a moment to look at him, because she's never seen him like this. Soft, attentive, mindful of her pain. It doesn't seem like the Gojo Satoru she's come to know and not fully hate. In the moonlight that filters in through the window, his white hair looks almost silver, brushing over the tip of his nose. His blindfold is gone, and so are those god-awful glasses he wore to the baseball match, so she can see his eyes clearly.
She doesn't get that chance too often. According to him, it tires him out, so he always covers them up. It's a shame, really, because they're beautiful, breathtaking even. If she were a poet, she'd say they remind her of a clear sky on a summer day, of the sunlight refracting off the surface of the sea. But she's not a poet, so she doesn't say anything and lets him continue patching her up.
Gojo presses a piece of gauze to her knee and holds it in place with bandages. He wraps them around her knee, tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight to cut off circulation.
"There," he pats her leg with a satisfied smile on his face. It's kind of adorable, she thinks, and immediately berates herself for doing so. "Only one more thing to go."
He leans down. What is he going to do? In a panic, she kicks up and her knee crashes against his jaw. He stumbles back, clutching his mouth with a hand.
"Utahime, what the hell?!" He whimpers.
"What do you mean what the hell?" She squirms back on the counter as much as she can without falling over the other side. "What were you doing?"
"I was trying to kiss it better!"
"What?" She blinks. "Why?"
"Shoko used to do it when we were younger," he wipes his chin, revealing a small bump on his lower lip that grows at an alarming rate. "It always made me feel better, so I thought it'd help."
She gapes wordlessly as he rubs his fingers over his mouth, trying to soothe the swelling. Kiss it better…? Like one did with children? Very, very small children? How should she interpret that? Despite the weirdness of it all, she has to admit it was a sweet gesture. Terrible execution with lack of proper warning that led to disaster, but his intentions had been good.
"Sorry," she finally mumbles. "Are you okay?"
"You kicked me in the face," he states matter-of-factly.
"Well, why didn't you have your Infinity on?"
"I didn't know I was going to get kicked in the face."
"I already said I was sorry!"
He looks at her and sighs. What a great sign. "I am going to forgive you because I am a very zen person."
"Sure."
"Now, will you let me please finish your treatment?" He gets closer again.
"It's not really necessary—" Utahime feels her face is warmer than a second prior.
"It is a necessary part of the process," he cuts her off. Rudely. "You'll never get better otherwise."
"Gojo."
"Come on."
She exhales sharply. She's still hungry and tired, and now her knee also hurts. All she wants is to find a snack and go to bed. "Fine, but make it quick."
He bends down again and places a small kiss over her kneecap. She barely feels the brush of his lips through the layers of gauze, but it still makes her heart beat faster than it should. He gets up smiling and strokes the bandage.
"See? Aren't you feeling a lot better now?"
"Whatever," she pushes herself off the counter, careful to lean all her weight on her left leg. He raises an eyebrow, like asking her if she's forgetting something. Sighing, she adds, "thanks, Gojo. I guess."
"You're welcome." The glint in his eyes warns her: he's about to start bragging. "It is my duty as the strongest to help those weaker than me in need—"
"And you ruined it," she spins on her heel and makes a beeline for the first cupboard she sees. "Good night, see you never."
The universe grants her a little mercy and she finds a cereal box inside. Her stomach growls and decides that cereal is a perfectly acceptable substitute for a full meal. Shutting the cupboard closed, she walks back to the corridor that will take her to the sweet refuge of her room without even sparing a glance towards Gojo.
"Hey, Utahime," he calls after her.
She breathes in, gathering patience. He helped her out, she thanked him, their transaction should be over. Why is he still talking to her? Can't he see she crawled to the kitchen for food, and now that she has it, she wants to go and eat cereal on her bed?
But he did help her, for no reason, just to be nice. (That feels weird to think about.) The least she could do is be nice as well. She turns around again. "Yes?"
He points to his busted lip. "It hurts."
"Then heal it, genius. Don't you have the Reversed Cursed Technique?"
"But that's so much work~" he whines, "and it's so late and I'm so tired. Can't you just kiss it better?"
It takes her two whole seconds to fully process his words. Kiss it—? Oh fuck, kiss it better. The bastard wants her to… And he's hurt on the… Oh, what an absolute bitch.
She flushes so profusely there must be steam coming off her ears. "Excuse me?"
"Can't you kiss it better?" He repeats, as if understanding the words had been the problem. "It would make me feel better."
"What?" She sputters, almost failing to keep her volume down. "No! I'm not going to kiss you in— I'm not going to kiss you!"
"Whaaa, so mean Utahime," he pouts, making the bruise look more prominent. "After I've helped you so much…"
"I didn't ask for your help."
"Yet I provided it selflessly." He stresses the last word. "Can't you return the kindness?"
She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, which is uncomfortable when one is carrying a box in hand. "Why do you even want me to do that? You don't need it."
"You know, to me, this kinda sounds like you're scared."
Wow. The audacity. "Scared?"
"Yeah, scared," he nods like he's very sure of what he's saying even though she knows he's talking out of his ass. "Scared you're going to fall in love with me because of a little kiss."
Utahime is not a proud woman. She really isn't. Pride is the downfall of the arrogant and a luxury she cannot afford. She knows to keep her head low and her mouth shut until the moment is right. She knows not to act on instinct or out of a misplaced sense of self-importance. In such a big world, she is irrelevant, easily disposed. So as a number one rule, she prioritizes retaining her hard-earned spot to keep on doing the right thing.
But rules have never applied to Gojo Satoru, and she's always been a little irrational around him.
So she stomps up to him, grabs him by the collar with one hand and plants a firm kiss right on his mouth. It's not gentle, it's not soft, it's not anything any romance novel said it would be. In fact, for a first kiss, it's a little too rough and raw. She feels the irregularity on his lip where she kicked him, the spot she's supposedly healing.
He doesn't react, maybe out of shock, maybe out of boredom (she can never be sure with him), and she doesn't give him time to. After a second, she pushes him away and turns around, leaving him frozen in the middle of the kitchen.
"Hope you feel better," she says without really meaning it (or maybe she does?) and clutches her cereal box to her chest on her way to the rooms' hallway.
She doesn't look back, so she doesn't see it, but after she leaves, Gojo raises a hand to his lips and smiles uncontrollably.
"I do."