Work Text:
The water was cool against Utahime’s toes. Staring at the moonlit sea before her, Utahime couldn’t help but finally let out a sigh of relief. She had not yet managed to find a quiet moment to attend to the rapidly unfolding wave of nerves in her chest. After all, it was supposed to be her promotional mission, and she had yet again bungled it at the precipice of finally getting it right.
Mei-mei-san had been impressed with her this time – she could tell by the proud shimmer in her eyes the moment Utahime had guessed the mechanism of the curse’s operation. But, like all other times, she had fucked it up at the tail-end.
She hitched her hakama up to further push her feet into the water, as if the waves would carry the storm swirling within her and deposit it into the depths of the ocean. How Utahime wished she could melt with the water and disappear from the shore. Every new lapse, each new mistake stung a little sharper. After all, it wasn’t easy being the star student who continued to disappoint with her debut. Following her father’s sit-down with her last month, she doubted she had much time left to change the direction of things.
Peering at her reflection, her mother’s face stared back towards her. It took some effort, a tilt of her jaw and imagining the fullness of her cheeks away – but her mother’s image managed to find its way through. While carrying her mother’s memory in this manner brought her favours at home and beyond, it was beginning to feel like some sick curse. If she set aside the guilt of accusing her mother of cursing her, Utahime felt like she could never hold the feeblest of flames to the blazing house fire that was the great Haruki Iori.
She did not have very long. Despite her father’s kind words and her brothers’ affirmations. If she wanted a chance to live her life on her terms, she had to cross this promotional barrier.
A flash of movement in the water a few feet ahead pulled Utahime out of her muddled head. A silvery, thin fish zipped towards her feet, tickling her toes. Instinctively, Utahime slowly submerged her hand in the water, and as she had hoped, the small fish danced between her fingers.
“What brings you here,” she murmured, “You’re so far from home.”
The small fish shot across her palm, still bouncing around her. To her surprise, the arrival of this unexpected companion made her smile. “You’re just trying to find your way. I understand.”
The fish continued its journey around Utahime’s webbed hands – and she was suddenly aware of how pretty it looked with the moonlight reflecting bright sparks from its scales.
“Now you can’t hate me when I say you’re the dramatic type.”
The sudden, booming sound made her little friend skittish. Utahime felt her eyes narrow at the water, before they shifted to the perpetrator of human-on-fish crime.
Satoru Gojo’s inopportune, smug, stupid face stared back at her. He was the last person she wanted to see right now.
“Leave me alone, Gojo.” She rolled her eyes, “Weren’t you busy setting up camp?”
The group had impulsively decided to put together a barbeque by the beach on their way back from Mei-Mei-san and her mission. Despite her desire to reach her room and bury herself in her quilts, Shoko had been unusually excited about the whole affair. Further, despite her urge to fight Gojo on the suggestion, they had gone out of their way to make sure she was alright. And Gojo being the reason why Utahime’s legs were still attached to her body also warranted some gratitude.
However, her idea of a quiet barbeque where she wallowed while her classmates caught a break deteriorated when Gojo sank next to her on the sand. Utahime shifted her shoulders away from him and sighed heavily, but of course all social cues were lost on this blithering fool. “I got bored,” Utahime could tell his eyes were on her behind those sunglasses, “Besides, it’s unbecoming of me to participate in lame jobs like that. Keeping up with tradition and whatnot – don’t you agree?”
“Yes, because all of us live to serve you.”
Gojo’s grin was apparent in the bubbly tone his voice took, “There you go! Easier to say than you think!”
Utahime shoved him without thought and earned a sharp snicker from him. “So rough,” he sighed, “You could at least try to be thankful.”
“You-”
Gojo slapped his hands on his ears, “Save it – my ears will bleed!”
“So dramatic,” Utahime muttered, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think you understand how conversations work. You can’t just talk at people.”
Somehow, whenever she found herself in teachable moments with Gojo, she ended up breaking her general policy of no eye-contact with him.
“Sure I can. Especially when I set aside time of day to play knight in shining armor to people.”
Her cheeks heated up and she could only hope he couldn’t see. “I would’ve been fine.”
“Liar,” he scoffed. He suddenly laid back in a smooth arch, hands tucked beneath his head. Utahime wondered if his eyes were closed behind his glasses, or if he was looking at the stars dotting the sky. Knowing him, however, the idiot was preparing to doze off. But she couldn't help but notice how the light from the moon turned his silver hair iridescent. With a shock, Utahime realised that there was a new sharpness in his jaw and neck since her graduation a year and a half ago. Now that she thought about it, the last time she had seen Gojo had been at some banquet a few months ago. Even there, she had only glimpsed the back of his head towering over the crowd as he snuck away, snickering into Geto’s ear. Even then, she had been taken aback by how different he had become in the past year.
He was a few months away from his graduation – and then his eighteenth birthday. Not only would he become one of the strongest sorcerers in recent history, but his adulthood would mark his position as clan leader. Everyone, including Gojo, was aware of these realities for his fate. But for the first time in a long time, she was aware of young he was. If you ignored the uncanny symmetry of his face, he looked as any boy at the edge of adulthood - bashful and striking. Would the world waiting for him have space for the boyish smile playing at his mouth? Watching the rise and fall of his chest as he remained sprawled on the sand made Utahime aware of how perhaps this was the last image of him in her mind before he entered the ranks of untouchable, unknowable higher-ups. Given her struggles with securing a simple promotion, she wondered if this would be her lasting memory of him. Something she would revisit when trying to put a face to his name on official communications, or news bulletins years from now.
The thought sat uncomfortably in her stomach.
“You’re staring,” Gojo’s voice pulled her out of her mind, “Don’t you know it’s bad manners?”
It was Utahime’s turn to scoff. So much for daydreaming about a time he was a foggy memory. “Because anyone who looks in your vague direction just has to be obsessed with you.”
“I didn’t say anything about obsession,” He smiled, teeth flashing, “Anything you’ve been wanting to confess, sweet Hime?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not dignifying that with a response, you self-absorbed prick.”
Gojo ignored her, “You know, I’m quite used to women fawning over me if I save their asses here and there. Don’t worry too much about it – I know you can’t help it.”
“Did you come out here to specifically disrupt my peace?”
“No, I specifically came out here to help a senpai in need,” Gojo tsked, “But all I get is an attitude. Not even a thanks.”
“You insulted me right after,” Utahime held up air-quotes to make her point, “‘helping’”.
Gojo pushed himself up on his elbows, and she caught a sliver of his blue eyes through the side of his glasses, “What did I say?”
The knot from before came to life in her chest, “You called me weak.”
Gojo turned to face her, and opened his mouth to respond. Utahime stilled, preparing for his berating comments about her usefulness, her lack of skill to develop one of the most revered techniques, or her inability to move up the ranks despite working the same position for a year. But then he paused.
He took off his glasses and turned forward. Utahime didn’t want to stare, but she couldn’t help but look towards those eyes that shifted the balance of their world. The ones she had first seen in the thick of winter, for a flash of a second that was burned into her memory.
Was that the first and last time she saw them so?
“Well, I stand by that.” Gojo slid his eyes to meet hers, “It’s not personal.”
“That’s somehow worse.” Utahime said, “You just think that those of you with immense power deserve to be on the field?”
“It’s not about deserving. Curses don’t care about your technique. It is about power, as much as you try to deny it. You alone are burdened by your perceptions.”
“Spoken like a six-eyes user.” Utahime rolled her eyes, “Convenient when you’re born into power like that, I guess.”
“You’re saying you’d want to be a sorcerer if you weren’t born into power worthy of it?” Gojo immediately countered.
The sight of her father’s back towards her in his study in the thick of the Kyoto winter flashed in her mind. Her fists tightened. “If there was a way to build towards it, I would do it.” She closed her eyes, and she could see the report of her mother’s death before herself as if it was yesterday, “I hate how limiting it all is. Like I was meant to struggle for this for the rest of time.”
The damning words escaped her before she realised. Now she’d done it – he would say something so carelessly ruthless that she would want to bury herself in the sand and disappear. His pompous disposition she could handle, but it was the ease of his cruelty that had always cautioned her to always stay away. She looked away and shut her eyes, waiting for his decisive blow.
“If things worked that way, you’d leave us all in the dust.”
Utahime waited. And waited. But nothing followed. Genuine confusion flooded her as she turned towards him, “You don’t mean that.” The prospect of receiving his pity was worse than being the object of his insults.
But he looked dead-serious. His eyes flicked across her face and then a sardonic smile spread across his lips, “Have you looked at yourself? You’re the biggest fucking nerd. You’d be so annoyingly good – with your uptight-”
He clasped her hand before it made contact with his shoulder, “I’ve had a long day, Utahime. A guy can only take so much.”
“You’re like – immune to saying one nice thing,” She sputtered, “Idiot.”
Utahime tried pulling her hand out of his, but he only tightened his grip in response. His smirk spread into a full-blown, self-satisfied grin with each unsuccessful tug from her end.
“Let go of my hand!” She snapped.
“It’s too fun!” Gojo whined, laughing, “It’s a shame you haven’t felt the joy of irritating yourself.”
“Oh-you-shut up!”
“If you’re not going thank me for my kind service, I’m afraid this has to be it!” Gojo tugged her forward until she half-fell, her elbow lodged into the sand.
“I’ll kill you Gojo, let go of my hand!”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“I’d rather be caught dead-”
“Than hold my hand,” He laughed again, “What, got some boyfriend who’d get all jealous?”
She saw her opening. Extending her free arm, she tickled his rib. Following a shrill, sharp sound, Gojo fell back. She righted herself quickly and threw her hands up for good measure to prepare for his counter.
But Gojo only stared at her for a moment and threw his head back to laugh. Utahime exhaled, and then scoffed. The bastard was laughing.
“Yes, very funny.” Utahime said loudly. But Gojo ignored her, pushing himself back to his spot where she dislodged him from.
“I think,” he said once his laughter subsided, “you’ll be just fine, Utahime.”
Utahime watched him carefully for the second time in the same night at that moment. His eyes were focused on the horizon, steely and determined. His words were his own but seemed bolstered by something beyond his years. In the moonlight spilling across his frame, he looked ethereal, spun of midnight silk. Like an answer to her calls at sea. Looking at the side of his face, she could suddenly see him, two years from now, five years from now, ten years from now. Something new, delicate - but bold - ebbed in her chest, rising through her.
“Just keep in mind, my services are age-capped at twenty-nine. It’s a risk-reward thing.” Gojo winked, instantly morphing from an unearthly creature kissed by the moon to idiotic teenage boy.
Wordlessly, Utahime’s hand made contact with the back of Gojo’s head, earning her a satisfying yelp.
“So mean,” he grumbled, but stayed where he was.
Utahime buried her face into her folded knees, hiding her smile.
As her feet met water once again, she caught a silver glimmer moving towards the moonlit horizon.