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The halls of Jujutsu High buzzed with an unusual energy, filled with the scent of sweet chocolates and the sound of students chatting excitedly.
Everywhere, pairs of students exchanged brightly wrapped treats—each one eager to share a piece of their affection. Some had carefully prepared, hand-crafted boxes of chocolate, while others opted for the store-bought variety.
Gossip swirled through the air, as students whispered about who had the most chocolates, who had the least, and who, unfortunately, would be spending the day alone.
In the middle of it all, Utahime quietly moved through the crowd, her usual calm demeanor unchanged as she handed out chocolates to her classmates. It wasn’t a big production—no fancy speeches or grand gestures. Just a simple, thoughtful gesture, as she handed a chocolate to this person and a small box to that one.
But every now and then, when her eyes met those of certain upperclassmen, she couldn’t help the slight blush that crept up her neck, her hands fluttering for a moment as she passed the chocolates. It wasn’t anything too obvious, but Gojo saw it—and, of course, he noticed the way she seemed to linger a little longer with a few of them, exchanging a shy smile here and there.
Gojo stood a few steps away, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and watching intently as Utahime moved through the crowd, looking effortlessly graceful despite the chaos around her.
His smirk never faltered, but inside, his patience began to wear thin. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tapping his fingers on his arm.
It didn’t take long for him to realize what was happening. She was handing chocolates out to everyone else, laughing, teasing, and exchanging small talk with all of them—except him.
Gojo’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion tugging at the corners of his smirk.
Did she forget? he thought. Is she just messing with me?
It wasn’t long before he could no longer stand it. With a dramatic sigh, he pushed off from the wall and walked straight toward her, cutting through the bustling students with ease. As Utahime reached for the next student in line, Gojo slid right in front of her, blocking her path.
“Hey, Utahime,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice light, though there was an undeniable edge to it. “Where’s mine?”
Utahime paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Her expression was unreadable, but she couldn’t hide the faintest twitch of her lips.
“Where’s yours?” she repeated, her tone almost too innocent, as though the question wasn’t obvious enough.
Gojo grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.
“Yeah. I’m the most important person here, aren’t I?” He stood tall, chest puffed out in an exaggerated display of confidence. “Surely, I get first dibs on your special chocolates.”
Instead of handing him a piece, Utahime simply tilted her head and looked at him, her gaze calculating. Her lips curled into a teasing smile.
“Well, if you’re that special, maybe you should’ve been more obvious about it. I’m handing these out to the people who really deserve them.”
A small chuckle escaped her, and for a split second, Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. But before he could react, she was already turning to hand chocolates to someone else—leaving him standing there, still empty-handed.
He blinked, the moment sinking in. His confident smirk wavered just a little. A laugh bubbled up, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She’s really going to make me beg for it?
Gojo thought it was just a joke. Utahime was always teasing him, pulling his leg, so this was probably just another one of those times. He grinned and leaned in a little, trying to play it off like he wasn’t bothered.
“Haha, very funny, Utahime. Where’s mine?”
He waited for her to hand over the chocolate, sure she was just trying to keep him on his toes. But as the seconds ticked by, his grin began to falter.
She didn’t move.
She just continued handing out chocolates to everyone else, making small talk with the others, her smile warm and friendly, her hands full of sweet treats—but still nothing for him.
Gojo blinked, his smirk fading for just a second before it quickly returned, though it wasn’t as confident as before.
This is ridiculous.
He shifted his weight, feeling the faintest hint of unease in his chest. He had been expecting some playful banter and maybe a chocolate, but Utahime was completely ignoring him.
She finally turned to him with an innocent tilt of her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Oh? Did you want one?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.
Gojo’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he was completely caught off guard.
Of course he wanted one.
From her.
But there was no way he was going to admit it, not with the way she was looking at him, all casual and nonchalant. He gave a scoff, trying to maintain his usual arrogance.
“Obviously. I’m the most important guy here.”
Utahime raised an eyebrow at his response, unimpressed. A small snort escaped her lips as she leaned in, her voice playful but with an edge of mocking amusement.
“If you’re so important, then you should be getting chocolates from so many other people. Why do you need one from me?”
Gojo’s smirk didn’t waver, but inside, he felt a small sting of embarrassment—which, of course, he would never admit.
Later, Gojo’s eyes darted around the room, his stomach sinking as he watched his classmates devour Utahime’s chocolates with grins plastered on their faces. First-year students, second-years, even a couple of random upperclassmen—all of them were happily munching on the sweet treats she’d carefully prepared, and not a single one of them was him.
His irritation simmered beneath the surface, but it wasn’t anger—it was something worse. The kind of frustration that came from being completely outplayed by the one person he didn’t expect to be outsmarted by.
How could she be doing this to me?
Gojo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the guys around him enjoy their chocolates like it was the most natural thing in the world. Every bite they took felt like a personal blow, and his jaw tightened with each passing second.
It was Shoko, of course, who noticed his growing frustration first. She was always the one who enjoyed teasing him, and now, seeing him fume with barely contained jealousy, she couldn’t resist.
“You know, Gojo,” Shoko drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe she just doesn’t like you like that.”
Gojo shot her a glare, though there was a hint of self-doubt creeping in at the back of his mind.
“Shut up, Shoko,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool.
But before he could respond, Shoko added with a mischievous grin, “Or, maybe she’s saving something special for you.”
That brief flicker of hope surged through him. He straightened up, his heart racing for a split second.
Maybe Utahime had been teasing him for a reason. Maybe—just maybe—she had something special for him, and he hadn’t been expecting it.
He almost smiled, but that hope was short-lived.
Just as he was about to start imagining some kind of grand romantic gesture, he saw Utahime call Geto over and, with a smile that was just as casual as ever, handed him a chocolate.
Gojo’s heart sank.
He could feel the tiny, bitter taste of defeat creeping in. He sighed deeply, trying to brush off the embarrassment, but Shoko’s teasing grin only grew wider.
With no other choice, Gojo decided to make his move. He needed to get a chocolate, any chocolate, from Utahime—he couldn’t just let this go.
His first attempt was flirty teasing. He stepped up to her with a grin, flashing her a playful wink.
“Come on, Utahime, you don’t have a crush on me, do you? Is that why you’re being so mean to me?”
He leaned in just enough for her to notice, clearly trying to flirt his way into getting something from her.
Utahime raised an eyebrow, completely unphased. She handed a chocolate to another student and glanced back at him, unimpressed.
“Nice try, Gojo.”
Nope.
Undeterred, Gojo quickly switched to his next tactic: fake heartache. He crossed his arms dramatically, letting out a deep sigh.
“You wound me, Utahime. After everything we’ve been through together…”
He made sure to give her a wounded look, hoping she’d feel guilty enough to cave.
Utahime didn’t even blink. “You’re being dramatic, as usual.”
That didn’t work either.
Gojo could feel his pride starting to fray, but he was determined. He quickly scanned the room for another plan: bribery.
“Okay, okay,” he said, giving her a pleading look. “I’ll trade you my notes on cursed weapons. You know you want them.”
He pulled out the neatly folded stack of notes he’d been carrying around all day, waving them in front of her face.
“Nice try.” She just gave him a blank stare, unimpressed. “I’m not that desperate.”
Why isn’t anything working?!
At this point, Gojo was in full dramatic despair mode. He threw his arms out to his sides, as if he’d just received the worst news imaginable.
“Fine,” he said, his voice exaggerated. “I guess I’ll just die chocolate-less, unloved, forgotten…”
Just as he was about to collapse in mock misery, a familiar object whizzed past his head.
An eraser.
It didn’t hit him, of course, but he blinked in confusion before looking back at Utahime.
She was already turning away, her back to him, completely unfazed by his theatrical display. “You’re impossible.”
Gojo gave a small laugh, trying not to let his frustration show.
“I’m never going to get this chocolate, am I?” he muttered to himself.
By the end of the day, Gojo had finally resigned himself to his fate.
He had tried everything—flirting, fake heartache, bribery, even a bit of drama—but nothing had worked. It was clear: Utahime wasn’t going to give him chocolate.
He sighed deeply, his steps slow and heavy as he made his way toward the dorms, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.
“This is so unfair… Why does she have to make it so difficult?”
He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed—maybe because it had started as a joke, but now it felt like something more. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Utahime just didn’t like him the way he thought.
As he walked past the training ground, the sun sinking lower into the sky, he couldn’t help but glance over at the students still milling about, laughing and chatting, happily munching on the chocolates she had given them. He saw a few of the guys from earlier laughing as they compared their chocolates, and he couldn’t help but feel an absurd wave of jealousy hit him again.
It’s just chocolate, he reminded himself. Just chocolate.
But it wasn’t just about the chocolate.
It was about her.
And just as he was about to let that frustration fully sink in, a warm presence and soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Gojo.”
His heart skipped a beat. He immediately turned around, eyes wide, and there she was.
Utahime stood there, looking a little sheepish, but with a small, almost teasing smile tugging at her lips. She was holding out a small box, the same shade of pink as the setting sun.
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait… What?”
Utahime’s gaze softened as she stepped closer, the box still extended toward him.
“I was going to give this to you earlier, but you were being an annoying idiot.” She gave him a playful, almost coy smile. “It’s not much, but I figured you might like it.”
Gojo stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing.
Was this really happening?
“Well?” She laughed lightly, seeing his stunned expression, and gently nudged the box closer to him. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
Finally, Gojo snapped out of his daze.
He grinned, his typical confident smile flashing back as he reached for the box, though there was something softer behind his eyes now.
“You’re killing me, Utahime. You know that, right?” he teased, but it was obvious there was a sense of relief and excitement in his voice.
She raised an eyebrow at him, but her smile was still playful.
He chuckled and took the box from her hands, his fingers brushing hers just for a moment longer than necessary. There was something warm in the way she looked at him, something that made his chest flutter unexpectedly.
“I’m guessing this isn’t just any chocolate?” Gojo asked, already sensing that there was more to it than he was seeing.
Utahime shrugged slightly, her gaze flickering to the box, then back to him.
“I made it myself, actually. Just a little something to thank you for everything you did on the last mission.” She looked up at him, eyes softening, but her tone was still light. “You were pretty reliable, even if you pretend not to care.”
Gojo couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. It wasn’t just chocolate—it was something thoughtful, something she had put time and care into.
His heart warmed at the gesture, and for the first time all day, he felt like he’d won. He grinned, his typical playful self returning.
“You’re full of surprises, Utahime.”
Instead of walking away, Utahime let out a soft sigh and, to Gojo’s surprise, stayed beside him. They sat together on a bench nearby. Her movements were casual, but there was an unspoken understanding that this moment—their moment—felt different from the usual playful banter.
Gojo opened the small box with curiosity, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the chocolates inside. He picked one up, inspecting it with amusement, then looked at Utahime.
“You really made these?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, as if questioning her ability to craft something so… perfectly homemade.
Utahime crossed her arms defensively. “If you don’t want them, then just give them back.”
“No way,” Gojo’s smirk returned instantly. “They’re mine now.”
He popped one into his mouth before she can protest further, eyes glinting with mischief.
For once, though, Gojo didn't speak. He just leaned back on the bench, closing his eyes as he savored the taste of the chocolate.
He let out a soft hum of approval, the corners of his mouth curling into a genuine, small smile.
Gojo noticed Utahime out of the corner of his eye, pretending to focus on the setting sun in front of them, though he could tell she was sneaking glances at him. He couldn't help but smirk a little, but it faded when he caught sight of her expression. For once, her gaze wasn't teasing or judging or playful. It was soft, almost... endearing.
He didn't speak; he just let her watch him. He knew the smile he was wearing was different—subtle, relaxed. Not the usual smug grin, but something more genuine, quiet. And as the silence stretched, Gojo wondered if she noticed how real the moment felt. How different it was from all the others.
The sky above them began to change colors, the oranges and pinks of the sunset reflecting the warmth of the moment. The gentle breeze swayed the trees around them, and everything felt perfectly calm, perfectly right.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
The world around them seemed to quiet, as if giving them a brief reprieve from the usual chaos.
Gojo felt the rare, almost tangible peace in the air—a contrast to the usual banter and playful tension that defined his interactions with Utahime. He watched the horizon, the silence hanging between them, and for once, it didn't feel uncomfortable. It felt... right.
Breaking the silence, Gojo leaned back against the bench, his eyes still on the fading light.
Without glancing at her, his voice came out low and easy, barely more than a murmur. “Guess I’ll have to return the favor on White Day.”
He could sense Utahime’s raised eyebrow, even though he wasn't looking at her. Her gaze flickered to him, but she kept her expression neutral.
“Don’t bother,” she replied, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, betraying the playful edge in her words.
Gojo’s grin widened, the usual mischief returning to his tone.
“Too bad. I already have something in mind.” He leaned forward, eyes locking with hers now, and the playful glint in his gaze was unmistakable.
Utahime’s half-smile was softer than usual, and he caught the shift in her demeanor.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, you'll love it.” Gojo nodded, but the amusement in his eyes had morphed into something more... gentle.
There was a shift in the air between them, something unspoken, something that lingered a little longer than usual.
He could feel the quiet tension settle in, like an invisible thread drawing them closer.
Neither of them needed to say it out loud.
The moment felt almost fragile—like a delicate dance neither of them had quite figured out yet.
Utahime didn't reply, and for once, Gojo was content with that.
The silence spoke louder than words, and despite the arrogance that usually defined him, he was perfectly fine just being here with her, enjoying it.