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“Gomen, onee-san,” a little boy, probably seven or eight, said with a bow when he accidentally bumped her. Utahime gave the boy a smile and a pat on the head.
“Satoru-chan! Hurry up!” another child called, waving.
“Coming!” With another bow to her, the boy ran to where his friend was.
Such a polite boy, Utahime thought. Unlike a certain menace that crossed her mind. She scoffed and continued walking.
It wasn’t the first time she was jostled or bumped into tonight. She hugged the paper bag closer to her chest so she wouldn’t drop it in case another body crashes into hers. It didn’t bother her though. She was used to the shrines overflowing with people during omisoka. Families and friends gather, some people even traveling across the country to return home to their loved ones to celebrate.
The number of foreigners was also considerable. A particularly tall one with a head full of light hair caught her eye that made her stop. The man turned to his companion and Utahime sighed. What was I thinking?
Utahime’s apartment was modest enough for someone who lives alone. She turned the lights on and removed her boots, only then registering the ache in her feet. She padded over to the kitchen to place the paper bag on the counter. She spread the food out beside the sink. She popped open one can of beer and placed the rest in the fridge.
“Ahhhh, that’s good,” she said after a long swig. No celebration was complete without her good old beer. It wasn’t her favorite brand. It was usually sold out during this time of year so she settled for her second favorite. She took another satisfying gulp before she went on to prepare her meal.
She looked at the clock. 11:15 pm. Huh, was it that late already?
Utahime still helped at the shrine to get everything ready for New Year, running errands here and there. The bulk of the workload had long been passed to the younger miko. There wasn’t much work anymore but she loved talking to the young ladies, answering any query they might have or guiding them in the tasks assigned to them. They reminded her of her own students.
She briefly wondered what they were doing now. Probably with their own families. Miwa cheerfully told her how, even strapped for budget, her mother would cook a spread of delicious meals for them. Nishimiya always got excited about the yukata she would wear during hatsumode. Todo would always make sure to be home in time for kohaku uta gassen where his beloved Takada-chan was invited to perform.
Noritoshi once told her that preparing for the New Year celebrations were kind of cathartic for him, a festive mood replacing the usual gloom in the compound. Mai would roll her eyes and say she hated New Year because nothing ever changes. Utahime wasn’t part of the Three Noble Houses nor a significant jujutsu clan. Utahime could only imagine how much pressure these kids have on their shoulders. Especially in their own predicaments–Mai being a woman in the Zen’in clan, Noritoshi being the heir. She vaguely wondered how much heavier the burden was in being Head of a clan…
She shook her head as she took out the shrimp from the pan and carefully plated them with the roe. Next, she put in the lobster claws. She glanced at her plate. Maybe she bought too much for one person. The thought of sharing it to Mechamaru crossed her mind, being also alone, but immediately dismissed it. He couldn’t possibly eat it.
While waiting, she peeled some fruits and arranged them on a plate on the kotatsu that she almost forgot to turn on. She drank the rest of her beer and took out another one. The last of the seafood was finally cooked and she added some garnish before nodding her head in approval.
She had just placed the platter on the low table when she tensed.
The doorbell rang.
Maybe if she stayed quiet, he would go away. The doorbell rang once more. But then again, he could sense her inside anyway.
With a groan, Utahime trudged toward the door. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she spat as she opened the door.
“Hi, Utahime!” was the familiar melodious greeting as he dipped his head below the door frame and pushed past her into her apartment. “Hmmm, smells good.”
“What are you doing here, Gojo?”
“I was passing by and thought of visiting a friend,” he said.
“That’s what you always say.”
“Because you keep asking.”
“Shoko said you were on a mission,” Utahime said, hands on hips. “In Aomori.”
“Well, I was this morning,” he said cheekily. “Then I just went shopping.” He showed her the bags in both his hands. “Good thing, I did.” He looked around. “Because your place needs some tender loving care.”
“Gojo-“ Utahime wanted to stop him from putting whatever he had in the bags in her home but sighed in resignation. Better to let him get it over with so he could go. She opened the fridge to get him a slice of cake and a glass of sweetened tea. She also took out a second pair of chopsticks for him.
When she turned back to him, he was already hanging some sort of decorations on her walls. They looked cute but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She made herself comfortable under the kotatsu sighing at the warmth.
“There, that should do it.” Gojo said with an appreciative nod at his handiwork. He turned to her. “Oh, Uta, I also bought you something!” He handed another bag to her.
“What is it?” She took it gingerly.
“Open it,” he said, grinning.
Utahime rummaged inside and found a haori. It was red but dances orange in the light, with a black collar. The fabric feels soft to touch, definitely must have cost a fortune.
“Go ahead and try it on.”
And she did. It was light but very warm. She liked this one a lot. But she wouldn’t tell him that, either.
“Looks good on you!”
“You shouldn’t have, but thank you.” As he tried a slice of the cake, Utahime thought about how she didn’t get anything for him.
She belatedly realized she said it out loud when he replied, “That’s okay. I got one for myself.” He shoved a bigger slice of cake into his mouth before reaching for another bag and taking out a similar haori but blue, an ocean that ripples under the light. He wore it in one fluid motion. “See, we match!”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Don’t you have to go back?” Utahime asked, opening another can of beer. “For the New Year clan rites?”
He hummed. “They don’t need me until…” he looked at the clock. “… a few hours.”
After Gojo finished his slice, he started eating from the platter and requesting for more tea. He didn’t comment on the food but he was usually a picky eater so Utahime thought it must be okay. Good thing she made a lot.
“What are those other bags?” Utahime asked as she noticed a couple beside the kotatsu.
His eyes lit up like a little kid and gulped down his food. “Thought you’d never ask!” He pulled out small items and let her have a good look. She did a double take.
“Are those…?”
“Yup! I saw a store that customizes these little dolls and I thought they were perfect for New Year gifts!” The dolls had an uncanny resemblance to his first-year students. “See, Megumi’s even has this deadpan face of his.” He laughed while pinching its little cheeks.
If you told her that adult Gojo Satoru would be a teacher, let alone a doting one, Utahime would laugh at your face. But here they were. Utahime watched as he carefully put back the dolls in their bags.
“Yuuta is out of the country and Panda might not appreciate a stuffed panda… for the irony,” he continued. “And Maki would no doubt slice it in half. Not sure about Toge but to be on the safe side, I got them other stuff too. I had them delivered to the college.
“Which reminds me…” he took another bag and gave it to her. “I also had some made for your students.”
Utahime raised her brows. “My students?” She took the bag from him and, true enough, there were miniature versions of her students. Miwa would be head over heels for this. Mai and Miwa may reluctantly accept it. Kamo would, too, out of courtesy. Todo would appreciate a miniature Takada-chan more, maybe (assuming he didn’t already have one). And what’s this… a small wooden doll with the hand-painted face of Mechamaru.
Utahime laughed. She brought it up to the light and laughed some more. What would Mechamaru do with this? She was imagining what kind of expression Mechamaru would have if he saw this… then realized he couldn’t have had any other expression. She laughed so hard she had to clutch her belly. What was Gojo thinking?
She glanced at him and he was just staring at her with that little smirk of his. It wasn’t the playful or snarky one she was accustomed to. This one was almost gentle. Like he doesn’t even know he was making it. He looked good with it, better than usual. Of course, she would die before she told him that.
“Well, thanks, I’ll make sure to give them these,” she said as she tried to compose herself. “I’ll pay for them next time.”
“You don’t have to. Consider them as gifts.”
“You gave so many gifts already.”
He waved his hand and ate another piece of her shrimp. “Oh, before I forget.” Utahime looked over at him from the rim of her almost empty glass. Gojo stuck a hand in the same bag and pulled out two little dolls– “Tada!” –of him and her.
“Look, Utahime! It’s scowling too just like you.”
Utahime knew that in any other day, she would be throwing his tea at him but she just cleaned and the alcohol was definitely in her system now. She snatched the little Gojo doll. “She’s scowling because this little gremlin keeps bothering her. See, now she’s in a better mood.”
Gojo laughed and took the little doll of himself back. “No, Uta! They come as a set. You can’t take one away. Now see–” he brought the dolls closer together “–they’re both happy.” He beamed at her and his giddiness was infectious.
Utahime slid her elbows on the table and placed her chin atop her folded arms, she was feeling light-headed now. That and, well, she felt herself smiling. Gojo was making the little dolls talk to each other now, making his voice slightly high-pitched when it was her doll’s turn.
“I don’t sound like that,” she commented lacking her usual annoyed tone.
Gojo just chuckled and continued his little show.
If anyone told her the great Gojo Satoru would be acting this way in her small apartment on New Year’s Eve – no, she heard fireworks go off and bells toll in the distance… New Year, then – she would never believe it. She used to find him obnoxious and annoying. She hated even being near him.
But…
She focused on the walls behind him, at the new decorations he brought.
…somewhere along the way…
Turning, she saw the bunny-shaped ornament he gave her a week before New Year. For luck, he said.
…it seemed…
The signed baseball was a prize he won in a random lottery. Liar. It must have cost a fortune.
…he had become…
He boldly placed framed pictures of them in her house that she always threatened to throw away but never did.
…a constant in her life.
Ah, she was drunk. She was sure it was the alcohol talking when she said, “Will you stay?” The blue eyes that met hers were intense, his face serious. She felt sleepy. “To watch the sunrise with me?”
There was a pause and the silence made her eyes heavier.
“Yes,” he finally said in that deep baritone. “I’d be happy to, Utahime.”
Utahime felt something bubble up in her chest. In her muddled consciousness, she knew she was happy. Spending time with him, like this, as if they were just normal people. She liked it. But she would never tell him that.
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