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The beautiful decor, the natural lighting through the curtains, and the tray of food on the bedside table could not hide the truth of what this place is. Pretty as it was, this was a cage, and Utahime was its prisoner.
When she first woke in this room, she was undoubtedly confused, even believing that she might still be in a dream. It didn’t make any sense, not when the last thing she remembered was blood and violence and screaming before everything went dark. Waking up in the golden room, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The bed she was laid in was softer than her own, the blanket soft and thick, the pillows comfortable and fluffy.
And yet, there had been something distinctly terrifying about coming to in clothes that were not her own, the gown gentle and light against her skin. Someone had not only changed her, but they’d washed her, cleaning the blood from her skin and hair.
A week later, Utahime woke with no less unease, barely able to catch more than a few hours of sleep. She peeled herself out of the bed, disgusted with its comfort, taking one glance at the tray of food before looking away. Even though she hadn’t eaten in a few days, she could not stomach the food. It would be taken away, the same as the others. Her refusal to eat had not gone unnoticed or without question.
He would be displeased. She imagined it wouldn’t take long before he tried to force her hand.
The pretenses were growing old, the comfort and beauty false. It could not trick her, not when she knew the horrors of what went on outside of this room. No amount of fawning and pampering could make her forget that, so she ignored the beautiful outfits in the closet, having badgered and berated her captor until her miko outfit was returned to her. Or at least close enough to it. The other one had been stained with blood, and since this was one crisp and clean, she imagined it was new.
After changing and tying half her hair up in a bow, Utahime once more peeled back the curtains. The city below was the same as before, a desolate place, the streets a barren wasteland. Inside the colony, battles raged on, severe blows between sorcerers dealt, but she took no part in it. She wasn’t fool enough to believe she could’ve survived in the long run, but to save her students, she had been willing to do anything. There had been a hope that her technique, if used at its maximum, could shatter the barriers and allow innocent civilians to escape.
That had been before her windpipe had nearly been smashed with a sharp jab. She was still recovering from the vicious attack days later, but at least she could speak now. Barely being able to utter a word without wincing had frightened her on that first day. She’d cried silently under the blanket, shaking pitifully. It embarrassed her now, thinking of how she’d allowed the same hand that had struck her to rub her back soothingly, and she recalled the anger she felt after every time she saw him again.
She would need it to match the even temper of her captor.
When the door clicked unlock, Utahime let the curtain fall and turned away from the window. She watched with thinly pressed lips and a hooded glare as the door swung open and an admittedly handsome man stepped inside.
“You’re awake.”
Utahime didn’t answer. She merely looked away again, arms folded across her chest.
“You’ve not eaten.”
“Not hungry,” Utahime mumbled.
He sighed. “Stubborn, as always. You’ve not changed in that respect.”
“You have,” she murmured, unable to bring her eyes to him. She couldn’t stand to see Nanami Kento the way he was now, nothing like the boy she’d adored back when he was a student at Jujutsu High.
When he had left jujutsu society, Utahime had been saddened, but she of all people knew what it was like to be crushed under the weight of this world. Not everyone could manage it, and Nanami had suffered blow after blow more than most at such a young age. After Yu’s death and Geto’s betrayal, his heart couldn’t take it anymore, so she helped him get into some night classes and look for jobs until he could fully leave.
They’d kept in contact throughout the years, though they hadn’t been close, their lives too distant and different. She didn’t want to remind him of what he’d left behind, and he had always been closed off, not wanting to be a burden. They were friends though – or so she’d thought. The news that he had snapped and used his curse technique to kill his boss and a few other higher-ups at his corporate job had been a severe stab to the heart. She’d sat in her apartment, staring at their last text exchange from a week prior, something about meeting up for drinks.
Had she missed the signs? Sure, he hadn’t been happy at the job, but she hadn’t realized the extent of his pain – of the madness it had brought on. She had briefly mentioned the idea of perhaps doing sorcerer work again – nothing serious or full-time, just a few gigs here and there so he didn’t have to work at his other job so much, maybe even give him enough money to take a vacation.
Nanami had laughed tiredly at that, the sound unsettling her a little. “A vacation. Right.”
Things spiraled after that. Nanami showing up again on Geto’s side, dealing them a horrible beating during the Night Parade, then vanishing after that, one of the few to evade capture. She’d not been allowed to fight, her curse technique deemed too volatile for the situation, relegated to watching over the students that didn’t get involved. Put on the sidelines, as usual.
That hadn’t stopped Nanami from seeking her out, trying to appeal to her “better senses”. She hadn’t joined him then, refusing his hand, but she hadn’t told anyone else about the visit either. The whole thing had upended her, and she’d been left to wonder, in his absence, what would have happened had she accepted his offer. Some of Geto’s flunkies had been imprisoned, others like Miguel given a second chance. Nanami hadn’t given them the option of punishment.
When he’d shown back up to oppose them once more, she hadn’t been surprised.
The scar on his face was new though, and every time she caught a glimpse of it, her heart skipped a beat.
“I’m disappointed,” Nanami said, his voice a low timber that almost made her shiver. “You’re not taking care of yourself.” His eyes flickered to the glass, taking note of its emptiness. “You’re drinking water, at least, but you’ll need to eat if you want to keep up your strength – or to use your curse technique properly.”
Utahime pressed her lips together, flustered over his observation. He wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t let herself be dehydrated if she wanted her throat to heal, and she would need water to use her technique safely. Though she was capable of speaking again, she knew her body wasn’t ready for anything else. She’d tried singing under her breath, only to wince from pain, tears stinging her eyes. He’d done a number on her, to say the least. Efficient and sharp, as expected of someone with his type of technique.
“My answer hasn’t changed,” Utahime told him, folding her arms across her chest.
Nanami let out a beleaguered sigh. “You’re a reasonable woman. Why won’t you listen to logic?”
“This isn’t logic,” Utahime seethed. “This is madness, inhumane, brutal.”
“So not much different from how jujutsu society was run before.”
“If that’s the case, then you traded one cruel master for another.” Utahime knew more than most how harsh the higher-ups could be. She’d been denied promotion after promotion, with no reason offered to her, until finally they told her to stop trying. She would never be raised to a grade one sorcerer, no matter what she did.
She had gotten so drunk after that meeting that she’d mistakenly texted Nanami instead of Shoko, whining belatedly when she realized her mistake, that the number had long since been dead. At least two years after he’d snapped, just a few months prior to him aligning himself openly with Geto.
He had still shown up at the bar. She didn’t remember much after that, just bits and pieces that she could vaguely shape into a picture. Perhaps it had been that night that brought him back to her doorstep with the offer to join Geto’s cause – and what convinced him to “save” her from the Culling Games. She couldn’t hide a second time. The moment her students were sucked in, she followed, unwilling to let them fight alone again.
She had expected to die when she crossed paths with Nanami inside a colony, knowing full well that he was stronger than her in every way. Instead, she woke up here, with him.
“Either kill me now and get some points or let me out,” Utahime said. “I won’t–”
She was cut off by fingers gripping her jaw, her body forced back until she hit the wall. Only Nanami’s hold on her face kept her head from bouncing off the wall, but that didn’t stop her from letting a squeak of terror escape her, the action so startling and rough that it scared her.
“Don’t speak to me like I’m Gojo,” Nanami growled. “Pretending like you’re above this – like you’re beyond reproach because you stay in the lines. We both know you aren’t.” Utahime pressed her lips into a thin line, glaring back at him, but her heart spiked under his touch. “I know Gakuganji told you to stay behind, but did you listen?”
No, I couldn’t.
“And how many points do you have?” Nanami questioned. When she didn’t answer right away, he squeezed her jaw tighter, hard enough to make her eyes water. “How many points, Utahime?”
“Fifteen,” Utahime admitted pitifully.
Nanami’s eyes roved over her face, taking in every inch, catching on the scar. It had been given to her by a curse user when she was twenty-four, far uglier than the faint one on the side of his face. She couldn’t deny the amount of satisfaction she’d felt upon taking out her first user in the colony. The man had looked nothing like the curse user that had scarred her, but it had felt like a stab back at him, a moment of vindication.
She couldn’t deny that allowing her curse technique to go wild had felt good .
“It’s not bad,” Nanami murmured, loosening his hold on her. “You were only here for two days before I found you. No doubt everyone else would expect you to have been killed already.” His expression softened, his other hand falling on her hip. “But I know better. You’ve been holding yourself back, restricting yourself so everything is perfectly level. There’s no need for that anymore. You don’t need to limit yourself.”
Utahime stared him in the eyes, seeing nothing but warmth in them. It was madness. “I can’t–”
“You can,” Nanami cut in. “And you have. I saw it – what you did to gain those last ten points, what you can accomplish when you ignore the restraints.” He ran a thumb along her scar, no doubt catching the way her breath hitched in her throat. “You enjoyed it too. You smiled .”
“I didn’t,” Utahime whispered, knowing damn well she was lying.
“You did,” Nanami said. “You’ve spent your whole life being underestimated, overshadowed, ignored. Why don’t you show them you’re someone they should’ve respected? Feared?”
“Is that why you changed?” Utahime asked quietly.
Nanami gazed at her, something of a sad look on his face. Accepting. He knew his fate. “I still restrain myself. I wouldn’t be able to help myself with you if I didn’t. You’ve made this very difficult for me.”
Anger flashed in Utahime’s mind, along with something else, her insides twisting over the thought, and she couldn’t help but lash out in return. Some things never changed, and even if Nanami wasn’t Gojo, her urge to snap back was too great to resist. “What does your boss think about your little pet project?”
Instead of getting mad or upset, Nanami shook his head. “He doesn’t mind, as long as I do my job. That’s the difference between him and the worlds we’re from – both in jujutsu society and outside of it. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have his own.” His hand drifted from her face to her neck, his thumb resting over her throat, right where he’d struck her before she could even speak. “With two hundred points, I can afford a vacation.”
“Stop,” Utahime managed, barely a whimper. “This isn’t you.”
“It is,” Nanami replied calmly. “You said it yourself. I changed. The world made sure of that.”
She looked at him, trying to search his face for the boy she’d adored, for the man she’d grown to care for. Maybe if she had reached out more often when he was a simple office worker, maybe if she’d taken his sullen bouts more seriously. She had thought, foolishly so, that if something was very wrong, he would tell her. They’d had dinner when he could squeeze her in, drinks when she happened to be in town on business. It was never very deep and never for long, just enough to remind her how much she missed him, how much she actually liked him.
But maybe she hadn’t really known him. She’d missed the warning signs, and some scars were invisible, little cuts on the heart until the person was bled dry. Internal bleeding, battered organs, until the body and mind couldn’t take it anymore. After all, she’d always done more of the talking, blabbing about whatever popped into her mind, hoping he wouldn’t see the emptiness inside her and think of her as a failure.
He was the one that suggested she get into teaching. She could still remember the shy smile on his face, just shy of twenty-three, mumbling that he thought she’d make a great teacher after she cagily mentioned that Gakuganji had offered her a position at Kyoto. She’d thought it an insult at first, but Nanami had made it sound nice – a good thing, a compliment, knowing that she’d take care of her students and protect them in a way that Yaga hadn’t been able to do with them.
She knew what happened when even good teachers failed, and she had with him too.
“I’m sorry,” Utahime mumbled. “I didn’t see.”
“I hid it away well enough,” Nanami said, sounding unbothered. There were no accusations on his end, but she still felt the bitter sting of failure. She had missed so much. “Truth be told, I couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you after everything you’d done to help me – and I couldn’t stand to see the way you were being treated either, knowing it’d be the same on both sides.”
Utahime smiled weakly. “Did you care that much about me?”
“I still do,” Nanami admitted. “I didn’t want to see you hurt again.”
“Is that why you locked me up in here?” Utahime prodded. “To keep me safe?”
“Maybe.” His fingers pressed into her hip, pulling her closer to him. “Or maybe I just wanted you for myself. I’m tired of being forced to share you with others, and now that Gojo is locked in the prison realm…”
Her throat constricted, but she managed to joke, “Jealous? There’s no need for that.”
It wasn’t much of a joke, especially when Nanami most definitely didn’t laugh. Judging from the intense way he stared back at her, he had been jealous, although she’d never seen him as such. There hadn’t been any hints of it, as far as she could remember, but then again, she would’ve burst into laughter had he said anything along those lines. The last person he needed to be jealous of, concerning her, was Gojo. The man was a menace. Had his sealing not thrown everything into chaos, she might’ve joked about finally having some peace and quiet.
Still, Nanami’s hold on her was tight, filled with intent. He wasn’t about to let her go now that he had her. She was reminded, not for the first time, that she was small compared to him. Unlike Gojo, who had been shocked to see the difference in Nanami when his picture was plastered all over the news, Utahime had watched him grow. Gone was the awkward, lanky boy from school, replaced by a man who had sharpened himself more so than the weapon he used to heighten his technique.
It didn’t matter. He could still break her without one. He didn’t need to wound her to leave a permanent scar on her heart, as he’d already surely done.