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Did they think she was an idiot? A fool?
Utahime’s fist connected solidly with the roughened leather material. The leather had begun to tear through her bandages as she punched, again and again. She shifted her stance without pausing, her body twisting as she lifted her leg to drive it into the punching bag. The exertion was making her pant, but she kept on alternating kick after kick. She reversed her stance back to her original position, ignoring the throbbing in her left arm, she brought her fist back for another punch.
Invaluable, they said. Irreplaceable.
A drop of sweat rolled into her eye, blurring her vision for a moment and she pulled her punch just in time. The break in her concentration forced her to notice how her bangs had matted onto her forehead and her kosode was slick against her back. With a frown, she walked over to grab a towel while yanking down the sleeves of her kosode to let it hang around her hakama.
Instruments. Tools. Weapons. That’s all they were to them. They didn’t matter beyond that.
She stood in just her sarashi, but she didn’t care as she wiped the sweat from her forehead and neck. Dropping the towel by her feet, Utahime set to unwrap the bandages around her hands. There was a slight twinge of pain when she flexed her fingers, which were marked with a few tiny cuts now. The bandages joined the towel next to her feet as she moved to check the wound on her bicep. It would need to be re-dressed so she collected the necessary supplies and took a seat on a bench.
“The threat has been neutralized. We thank you all for your cooperation tonight.”
The wound was mostly healed, but her combative training before and after the event had aggravated the injury. Her head fell back against the wall, and she closed her eyes as she thought about the event. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. She had been barred from joining the battle with the excuse of needing her to stay back and guard the Kyoto campus. Except she knew the real reason. The technique she was bestowed with made her indispensable and the onslaught of demons in this battle was far too great a risk.
That didn’t matter when it came to him, however. The burden always fell on him.
It was late and she thought everyone had retreated to their rooms to rest, but the sudden sound of doors sliding open interrupted her thoughts. She opened her eyes to the sight of Gojo leaning against the door frame, watching her through his covered eyes. He had changed into off-white slacks and a loose black sweater and to anyone else he looked relaxed, comfortable. Anyone else, but her. She noted the same imperceptible wilt of his shoulders, the exhaustion hidden behind nonchalance in his expression, and the faint falter in his stride as he walked towards her.
“You are all dismissed. The rest can be discussed at a later time.” “Gojo-san, a word?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, a thought occurring to her. The post-battle meeting had been held in Kyoto since the Tokyo campus was in shambles. Gojo had stayed back with the higher-ups after the rest of them dispersed. Unsurprisingly, no one saw the pretenses he put on for them. Except her, but she had thought he would’ve teleported back to Tokyo to his apartment after they finally released him. A mix of concern and confusion marred her features as he came to a stop in front of her.
A god amongst men, indistinguishable from those carved out of marble. But— too much pressure and that marble would fracture.
“What are you doing here—?” “Why are you still here—?”
They both questioned each other simultaneously. He chuckled in response, but it was hollow. She merely grimaced in return. They watched each other for a moment. The silent intensity of his hidden gaze could have smothered her. He should have towered over her as she sat on the bench, and yet he somehow felt meager. She found she was frowning again.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Gojo spoke first, barely louder than a whisper. “But, I can go if you want to be alone.”
The battle was won, the curses vaporized, Geto Suguru was defeated, and Gojo was tired.
“Stay.”
That was all she needed to say it seemed. Gojo blew out the breath he was holding, and his relaxation was no longer a feign. She stood, crossing the few steps separating them. It was almost reflexive as she reached up, wavering as she touched his bandages, but he didn’t stop her. She pulled his bandages free, letting them unravel and fall to the ground between them. Their eyes met, unhindered. The skies beheld unto the earth, and she realized that he wanted her. Maybe she wanted him too.
“Emotions are inflated during times of conflict and bloodshed.”
This wasn’t a punch she could pull. The impact of this would alter everything she knew, everything they knew. However, she also could not bring herself to walk away. There was something in the way his eyes scrutinized her, the way his head bowed towards her. It brought forth a warm ache in her chest.
“Spar with me.” It wasn’t a question.
Gojo raised an eyebrow at her but did not hesitate as he grasped the edge of his sweater and tugged it over his head. Utahime tasted salt as her tongue licked her lips. Marble, indeed. She turned on her heel to walk back to where the supplies were, and he followed wordlessly. When they approached the supply shelf he stepped around her and grabbed a new package of bandages. He deftly ripped open the package, unrolling the bandages he reached for her hand.
“Secure the campus, that is your only obligation. You will be needed for greater battles.”
With careful precision, he interlaced the bandages around her palm, then each finger one at a time, and her palm again where he tied it securely in place. The same was repeated with her other hand. He tilted his head to the side as he wrapped his own hands, his eyes focused on her arm.
“Will you be able to spar with your injury?” He murmured, the worry seeping through his teasing tone.
“It’ll take more than this to keep me down.” she countered, a smile playing on her lips. As he finished, she stated some rules, “We spar close combat with only our raw skills. Anything goes.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gojo smirked and gestured towards the dedicated sparring arena.
They both took their starting positions, neither taking their eyes off the other. She rolled her shoulders; he cracked his neck. Predator and prey, prey and predator. Gojo’s raised hand turned up and signaled for her to approach. Utahime moved forward with the poise and keenness of a black panther, her eyes tracing over his form searching for a weak spot. She swiftly pivoted around on one foot, her shin connecting with the side of his knee making him lose balance momentarily. She had the upper hand as he recovered from her sudden strike and attempted a jab cross. The first punch landed successfully, but his hand closed around her fist blocking the next.
The white-hot heat of the sun seeped through all the cracks.
She rotated her wrist, yanking her fist from his grip. He took control of the pause to return with a punch of his own. Utahime realized too late that he had feinted, his punch nowhere near to making contact with her. Akin to a white wolf, he bared his teeth in a coy grin just as he performed a cross-step-through with rapid dexterity. His other arm curved around the back of her arm, and he locked their arms together, trapping her. She attempted to wrestle her arm free, but he held her in place. Her back pressed against his bare chest; their arms wedged between them.
“Give in, Utahime.” Gojo growled into her ear, her breath hitching at his words.
The sun was nuclear. Too close, and she would burn.
Her free elbow drove into his side. Unprepared for her assault, his grasp loosened and she broke apart from him. They instantaneously returned to their little dance, circling each other before pouncing once again. The hunter and the huntress. It was a whirlwind of attacks and blocks, neither letting up. Gojo ducked abruptly, a strong arm enveloping her bare waist as he brought her flat onto her back with a slight lift and heave. She was nimbler, contorting her body she wrapped her legs around his neck and her ankles locked into place. Their eyes clashed.
“Make me.” Utahime dared him, his pupils widening in response.
Yet she couldn’t help, but soar higher. The fusion would be marvelous, it would light up the whole world.
She secured her hold around his head, and using her upper body strength she pushed and twisted them around until he roughly landed on his back. Utahime moved to untangle herself, Gojo followed her lead, and they faced each other once more. She didn’t waver as she repeated her earlier action, twisting around and propelling her shin firmly into the side of his knee. This time, Gojo groaned as he dropped onto one knee. Her bent arm instantly came down to hit his shoulder, but he raised his arms in a block just in time. She pushed away from him, but he was brisk in swinging his leg around and knocking her off her feet. The air left her lungs in a huff as her back hit the ground, again. Her chest heaved from the effort. He was over her in the next second, his hands caught her wrists and effectively pinned her in place.
Fire. She was on fire, but the heat didn’t burn.
The scent of their musk enveloped them. His chest swelled with each labored breath, drawing her gaze to it. He was damp with perspiration, as was she, and he should move away. Instead, he just stared, shifting infinitesimally closer. Her eyes traced up his hard chest to his throat as she watched him swallow until she landed on his lips. The tip of his tongue darted out of the corner of his mouth. He leaned closer still, their chests touching with each labored inhale. The skies spread across the earth, and the earth was ready to be engulfed. Then, he kissed her.
An end or a new beginning. A brilliant explosion of light, enough to illuminate a thousand earths.