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The midday sun bathed the courtyard of Jujutsu High in a soft, golden glow. Birds chirped, leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and the usual chatter of students filled the air. Gojo Satoru leaned back on the bench, stretching his long legs in front of him with a dramatic sigh. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose with one finger, smirking.
"Honestly, if I hear one more thing about how great you are, I’m going to gag," Ieiri Shoko muttered, taking a drag from her cigarette as she sat on the bench next to him. Smoke curled lazily above her head before dispersing into the air.
"Not my fault I'm this talented," Gojo shot back, flashing her a grin. He stretched his arms above his head, as though to further emphasize his superiority. "Gotta let everyone know."
"Is that what you're doing?" Ieiri drawled. "I thought you were compensating for something."
"Ha ha, very funny," Gojo said, rolling his eyes but still smiling.
Geto Suguru, sitting on Gojo's other side, snorted and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "You know, for someone with Six Eyes, you'd think he’d be better at seeing when he's being annoying."
Gojo’s smirk widened. "Oh, I see everything, Suguru."
"Do you, though?" Geto gave him a sideways glance.
"As a matter of fact—" Gojo started, but his words trailed off as his eyes wandered to the younger students training a few yards away.
In the middle of them, arms crossed and an ever-serious expression on her face, stood Iori Utahime. She was instructing them on something or other, her voice stern as she scolded one of the students for slacking off.
Gojo watched her for a moment longer than he intended. There was something oddly satisfying about the way she took her duties so seriously. How she always seemed on edge, waiting for something to go wrong—probably because he was usually the one causing trouble for her.
"Oi, Satoru," Geto’s voice broke through his thoughts. "You good?"
"What?" Gojo blinked, looking away from Utahime and turning back to his friends. "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"
"You’re unusually quiet all of a sudden," Geto said, smirking. "What’s on your mind?"
Gojo huffed, leaning back on the bench as he waved a hand in the air. "Nothing. Just thinking about how easy it would be to outdo Utahime in a training session. The way she teaches... It's kind of slow, don’t you think?"
Ieiri raised an eyebrow, catching on immediately. "Uh-huh. Is that why you’ve been staring at her for the past five minutes?"
Gojo scoffed. "What? I wasn’t staring."
"You totally were." Geto grinned, leaning back beside him. "Don’t act like we didn’t see it."
Gojo’s smirk faltered, but only for a second. "I was just... I was making sure she wasn’t screwing up the lesson. Gotta protect the integrity of our fine institution."
"Right," Geto said, his tone teasing. "Because you're so concerned about the education of first-years."
"Of course!" Gojo puffed out his chest. "Unlike some people, I care about the future of the jujutsu world."
Ieiri tapped the ashes from her cigarette. "For someone who can see everything, you’re pretty blind to your own feelings."
Gojo shot her an incredulous look.
"Feelings? For Utahime? Now that’s a joke." He crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "I mess with her because she’s fun to mess with. She gets all flustered, and it’s hilarious."
Geto’s smirk only grew. "Or maybe you just like seeing her flustered."
Gojo felt heat rising to his cheeks, but he quickly brushed it off with a forced laugh. "What? No. I just... She’s an easy target, that’s all."
"Right, right," Ieiri said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It has nothing to do with the fact that she’s one of the only people who stands up to you."
She flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it with her foot.
"Exactly," Gojo said, relieved that they were finally getting it. "She’s just... Fun to mess with."
"Oh, Satoru," Geto sighed dramatically. "You’re in denial."
Gojo opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, a voice from behind them made him freeze.
"What are you talking about?"
Gojo’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to see Utahime standing a few feet away, arms crossed, her brows knitted in confusion and irritation. She must’ve finished her lesson and overheard them.
For a split second, Gojo hesitated. But then, as always, he regained his composure and put on his usual cocky grin.
"Oh, nothing important." He shrugged. "Just talking about how cute you look when you get all angry."
Utahime’s eyes widened, and her face flushed pink as she scowled at him. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Gojo said, leaning forward slightly, his grin widening. "You’re always so serious. It’s kind of adorable."
Her fists clenched at her sides, and Gojo could see her jaw working as she tried to form a response. She was always like this when he pushed her buttons—flustered, frustrated, but unable to walk away without saying something. It was almost too easy.
"You—! I can’t believe you—! Ugh, you’re impossible, Gojo!" Utahime spat, her face now completely red as she turned on her heel and stormed off.
Gojo watched her go, still smirking. He expected her to storm off—she always did—but something about the way her ponytail swished as she marched away was... Well, it was kind of cute.
Beside him, Geto and Ieiri erupted into laughter. She gripped his arm to steady herself.
"You really just can’t help yourself, can you?" Geto said, clutching his sides as he tried to catch his breath.
"Admit it, Satoru." Ieiri wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter finally subsiding into an amused sigh. "You’ve got it bad."
Gojo rolled his eyes. "I don’t have anything."
"Oh, come on," Geto said, leaning back with a smug grin. "You’re always messing with her, always watching her... And that flustered look on your face just now? Priceless."
"I don’t get flustered," Gojo shot back. "And I wasn’t watching her. I was making sure she was doing her job. Someone has to."
Ieiri smirked, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say, lover boy."
"I am not—" Gojo started, but stopped himself when he realized it was pointless.
They were going to tease him no matter what he said. He sighed, leaning back on the bench and crossing his arms over his chest.
"You guys are impossible," Gojo muttered. "It isn't like that."
Geto chuckled. "We’re not the ones making heart eyes at Utahime."
Gojo’s gaze drifted back toward the direction Utahime had stormed off, her fiery retort still echoing in his head. She was always like that—stubborn, a little hot-headed, but... Well, maybe that was what made her interesting.
Not that he’d ever admit that to Ieiri or Geto.
"Yeah, yeah," Gojo muttered, his smirk returning. "Whatever."
"Good luck with that, Satoru," Ieiri said with a wink, standing up from the bench and stretching. "You’re going to need it."
Gojo snorted, watching her go before his gaze settled back on where Utahime had disappeared. His smirk softened into something more contemplative, and for a moment, he let himself entertain the thought.
Maybe... Maybe they weren’t completely wrong.
Not that he’d ever admit it.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the courtyard of Jujutsu High. Most students had dispersed for the day, leaving the grounds quieter than usual.
Gojo Satoru, after receiving more than his fair share of teasing from Geto and Ieiri, had retreated to one of the less busy walkways near the training field. He leaned against the wall of the building, the orange glow of the fading light reflecting off his sunglasses as he gazed out at the horizon.
He was alone now.
At least, he thought he was.
The soft sound of footsteps approaching broke the peaceful quiet. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was—there was something distinct about Iori Utahime's presence.
Maybe it was the way her energy felt perpetually on edge, or maybe it was the fact that he always seemed hyper-aware when she was around.
He kept his posture relaxed, though, feigning indifference as the footsteps drew closer.
Utahime stopped a few paces away from him. Her silence was palpable, charged.
Gojo finally lifted his head slightly, turning his gaze toward her. She looked serious—more serious than usual—and for a brief moment, Gojo felt a flicker of curiosity.
What did she want?
"Gojo," Utahime began, her voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something—frustration, maybe? Or maybe it was just nerves. "We need to talk."
Gojo smirked, pushing off from the wall and straightening up, though he kept his hands casually in his pockets.
"Oh? Is this about how cute I said you looked earlier? I didn’t mean to make you blush so hard, Utahime."
Her eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched at her sides, but she didn’t take the bait. Instead, she took a deep breath, steadying herself.
"This isn’t a joke, Satoru."
Gojo’s smirk faltered, just for a second, as he registered the way she said his first name. That was unusual. She only ever called him Satoru when she was either really mad or really serious.
"Alright," he said, his tone softening slightly as he took his sunglasses off and tucked them into his shirt collar. "What’s this about, then?"
Utahime’s gaze met his, and for a moment, Gojo felt something shift. She wasn’t just here to chew him out like she usually did when he messed with her. There was something else.
Something different.
"I... I don’t know what your deal is," she started, her voice quieter now. "But, I’m not going to let you keep playing these stupid games with me."
Gojo blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Games? What games?"
"You know what I mean," she said, crossing her arms defensively. "You’re always teasing me, always making these comments like it’s some sort of game to see how flustered you can make me. It’s exhausting, Gojo."
He opened his mouth to reply, but she wasn’t done.
"And maybe to you, it’s funny. Maybe it’s all just fun and games, but to me... It feels like you’re not taking me seriously. You don’t take anything seriously when it comes to me."
Gojo frowned, his usual cocky demeanor slipping as he processed her words. She wasn’t yelling or throwing insults at him like she usually did when she got annoyed.
This was different. This was... This was vulnerable.
And that threw him off more than anything.
"Utahime..." he started, unsure of what to say.
"Do you even care about anything I do?" Utahime asked, her voice sharp but laced with something that almost sounded like hurt. "Or, am I just a joke to you?"
Gojo felt a pang in his chest at the accusation. He hadn’t really thought about it like that. Sure, he teased her—a lot—but it wasn’t because he didn’t respect her. In fact, it was kind of the opposite. But saying that out loud felt... Weird.
"I never meant to make you feel like that," he said, his voice quieter than usual. His usual bravado was gone, replaced with something more genuine. "It’s not like that, Utahime."
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of insincerity.
"Then what is it like, Gojo? Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you just enjoy making me feel small."
Gojo sighed, running a hand through his white hair.
"Look, I’m... I'm not the best at this kind of thing. I mess with you because... I don’t know. You’re not afraid to stand up to me. Most people just let me do whatever, but you don’t. You call me out, and yeah, maybe I go overboard sometimes, but I don’t mean anything bad by it."
Utahime’s brow furrowed, and she uncrossed her arms, the tension in her posture loosening just slightly.
"Then why make everything into a joke?"
Gojo hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to explain the way he felt without sounding like an idiot.
"Because..." Gojo shrugged. "It’s easier than being serious."
She blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. "What do you mean?"
Gojo scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable with how exposed he felt in this conversation.
"I’m not great at... Well, at being serious about stuff. Especially with people I actually—" He cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say, then quickly changed his wording. "—with people I respect. It's just... Easier to keep things light, you know?"
Utahime stared at him, processing his words. The silence between them stretched on, thick with unspoken thoughts. She finally exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.
"So, you’re saying you respect me?"
"Of course I do." Gojo nodded, his usual playful smirk replaced by something softer. "You’re one of the most toughest people I know. It’s not easy putting up with me, you know?"
That earned him a small, reluctant smile from Utahime.
"Yeah, well, I guess I’ve had a lot of practice."
Gojo chuckled, relieved to see her smile, even if it was brief. "You’re the only one who can handle me."
Utahime rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She took a small step closer, her voice quieter now.
"If that’s true, then..." She brought her face closer to his. "Can you stop making me feel like an idiot in front of everyone?"
Gojo’s expression softened. He hadn’t realized how much his teasing affected her, not until now.
"I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m sorry."
It wasn’t often that Gojo apologized for anything, and he hoped that Utahime could tell that he meant it.
She looked up at him, the tension between them easing. "Okay."
They stood there in silence for a moment, the fading sunlight casting long shadows on the ground. Gojo could feel the weight of the conversation still lingering, but it felt lighter now.
"So..." Gojo began, glancing over at her with a faint grin. "Does this mean you don’t hate me?"
"I never hated you, Gojo." Utahime sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. "You’re just... You're exhausting."
Gojo laughed, and for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like he was laughing at her.
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
Utahime gave him a pointed look. "Just... Try not to be too exhausting, okay?"
Gojo raised a hand in mock surrender. "I’ll try. No promises, though."
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the slight upward curve of her lips.
"You’re impossible."
"And yet, here you are," Gojo teased, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "Talking to me. Privately. Voluntarily."
Utahime shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Don’t push your luck, Gojo."
He grinned. "Wouldn’t dream of it."