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It was the first true day of autumn, and the world had officially switched to its organic sepia filter. From the leaves up above to the grounds down below, everything appeared through a colored lens and it was beautiful.
However, the thing that held his attention was the satin, layered bow. Walking several feet ahead of him.
Now, while the bow was not the true object of his longing, the simple sight of it could somehow turn an ordinary day extraordinary. Most days, she chose her usual white. It was almost always white.
Except, like today, when it wasn’t. Those days his heart beat with effervescence, the mystery behind her choice would encompass his thoughts for the full day.
Although, to be honest, the color did not really matter, he only yearned to be privy to her every thought. But he couldn’t deny the exquisiteness of the color she’d chosen today.
Orange. A perfect burnt orange. The shade of orange that is borne from the yellow evening sun melding with the clear blue sky. And just as the many hues of a sunset coalesced, bridging from one to the next, Satoru had found himself linked to Utahime by their sublime destinies.
Yet, as fate oft did, it tied them together in all the ways, excluding the sole one he earnestly desired. So close he could reach for it, yet each time he was left grasping at nothing.
Satoru Gojo, the sorcerer destined to be the strongest, and Utahime Iori, the miko assigned to serve him. She had been trained from birth, prepared to offer her powers at his disposal should he ever want them.
To ensure deference to duty, the Iori mikos were forbidden to wed or conceive. Children and families had the potential to sway alliances, they may interfere with their obligations.
Her responsibilities lied with him. Their lineage had pledged allegiance to the Gojo bloodline.
For all intents and purposes, she was his. And though he was free of any such loyalties, he could never be hers.
She bore the burden sincerely. A weight, even the strongest, crumbled under.
That was ample reason to give her any and every thing she dared ask for. The rest of the time, he gave her the things she didn’t even think about asking for.
A picnic on a nice fall day? Of course. To invite their friends to the outing? Done. Perhaps a short recess from her fidelity and traditions? He’d lay down his life to unfetter her entirely.
Therefore, here they were, strolling through a park in a small city far from Tokyo. She had her arm wrapped around Shoko’s, laughing openly at something she said, her orange bow bouncing behind her with each step. His focus was set completely on her, fists shoved into his pockets, that he missed the knowing look that Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara exchanged.
He was waiting, because he knew it was coming — it always did.
On cue, she peered over her shoulder at him, eyes twinkling and mid-pealing laughter, and no matter how much he expected it, she invariably stole his breath. That singular look would fill him with life and concurrently have him ready and willing to die. Each damn time.
Try as they might, no one could take this from them. Countless shared glances that held endless possibilities and an overflowing love. Nobody could touch that. Regardless of how unattainable it may be, it belonged to them. His and hers, equally.
At least, until he was clever and fearless enough to beat them. In the meantime, this would do. This and buying her bows in every available style and pattern of orange to remember this day by.