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The world was dark until the day he witnessed her dance for the first time – a shrine maiden, a girl no older than ten and six, but he was enraptured by her nonetheless.
Forced to wear bandages to shield his eyes since he was a child, he can barely recall a time when he was able to see the world unencumbered. Six Eyes was too powerful of a gift to be wielded by a child, so it took him many years to withstand its strength. However, as he grew older, so did his power as well. It was easier to make his path by dimming the world around him. He did not need to see in order to be the strongest.
By the time he was ten and eight, no sorcerer could rival him. Sorcerers and curses alike fell to their knees before him, prayers of mercy and hateful curses on their lips. This was the golden age of sorcery, and as the Six Eyes, he stood at the top.
And yet, this girl, with her silky dark hair and suzu bells tied around her wrists, stole his breath away. Light exploded into the world, stunning him into silence. It took him a moment to realize it was her cursed energy, more pure and brighter than anything he’d ever seen. Many shrines like this one sheltered sorcerers, priests and shrine maidens gifted with the ability to purify in more ways than one.
She was different. When a shrine maiden danced, it was supposed to be for the gods, but in that moment, he knew her dance was for him.
*
“...you even listening? Hello? Gojo?”
Satoru blinks from underneath the shade of his sunglasses, forgetting where he is as he’s dragged out of an impromptu nap. It takes him a second to realize Utahime’s annoyed voice is what woke him and another second to remember he’s on a train with her to deal with some backwoods curse. He was up late last night playing video games with Suguru, his eyes a bit red from the lack of sleep and his mind sluggish.
“Were you asleep the whole time I was explaining the details?” Utahime demanded across from him.
All Satoru can do is offer her a lazy smile and reply, “Yup.”
Utahime huffs out in disgust. “Seriously? How rude can you be?”
“Pretty rude from what I’ve been told.”
His elders did their best to teach him all the proper manners and bullshit that comes with being the future head of his clan, but it didn’t do them much good when he figured out how much stronger he was than them at an early age. He knows how to behave like a proper and respectful young head, but he doesn’t see much of a point in the manners. It’s not like curses and curse users will care if he’s polite, and everyone else is weak compared to him, even his sweet senpai.
“You’re an idiot,” Utahime mutters under her breath.
Satoru’s smile broadens. Utahime is the epitome of proper and respectful – all the Higher-Ups adore her, and their teachers treat her like the golden child of Jujutsu High – but underneath that carefully curated image is something much rougher and crude. He can’t help but chip at the veneer to catch glimpses of the hidden truth.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your kohai,” Satoru points out.
“It is when they aren’t paying attention,” Utahime replies. “This is a very serious matter.”
“What grade is the curse?”
“Grade Two, possibly on the verge of being a Grade One.”
Satoru shrugs and leans back in his seat. “Then it’s not that big of a deal. This train ride will take us longer than it will for me to take care of the curse.”
Utahime frowns. “People have died. There’s more to it than that.”
“Whatever.”
Satoru eyes her out of the corner of his eye as she gazes solemnly out the window. The scenery would probably be pretty if it wasn’t so rainy and dreary. Utahime has always been serious and practical, ever since he met her, but she usually fights with him more.
“Why are you here anyway?” Satoru asks. “It’s not like I need your help.”
“First years aren’t supposed to take solo missions,”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “Maybe regular first years, but I’m a Special Grade. I’ve been exorcising curses since I was a kid, probably before you.”
Utahime glances at him. “I exorcised my first curse before you were born.”
It isn’t often that something catches Satoru’s interest, especially other sorcerers, save for Suguru and his Curse Manipulation Technique and Yaga’s cursed dolls, but this is completely unexpected. Utahime isn’t that much older than him. For her to have exorcised a curse before he was even born would mean…
Two? Three? No, that’s crazy. Utahime isn’t strong.
“How–?”
But Utahime stands up abruptly and says, “We’re here,” stopping him cold. He can tell by the way she turns her back on him and gets her backpack from underneath the seat that she’s done with the conversation. Sure, he might be able to needle her for more, but stubborn as she is, she won’t tell him, not now at least.
Well, there’s always the train ride back. She can’t avoid him forever.
*
Dark clouds were on the horizon. There were whispers of a dangerous curse, far deadlier than the rest, rising in power further south. Knowledge was scarce, if only because there were never any survivors. Tales from peddlers who roamed across the country selling goods were the best source of information, so they listened and waited, sensing the growing dangers.
He could sense them better than most. Whatever threat this was, even at a great distance, he could feel it, his Six Eyes warning him of an oncoming storm.
In all of this, however, Uta remained a bright light in his life.
He found her in the garden of his clan’s home, tending to a spot in the corner. He’d given her the little plot as a gift, letting her do whatever she wanted. Her hands would mark a place in this home forever. He had already made it a cree that no one was to touch or damage the flowers she grew here.
Leaning against a column, he watched her. She was kneeling on the ground, humming under her breath, dirt from the ground getting under her nails. The maidservants would fret over her later, which would no doubt frustrate her. She wasn’t used to such lavish treatment. When she was a shrine maiden, she didn’t dare to even dream of wanting things of her own and now she had everything she could ever dream of. She still tried to do so many things on her own.
His obstinate wife. He couldn’t help but smile.
As she hummed, her delicate and bright cursed energy drifted lazily throughout the garden. He wasn’t sure if it helped the growth of the flowers or not, but it had become something of a habit or perhaps tradition for her when she was still learning the ways of the Miko. Her cursed technique wasn’t solely based on her voice, but her cursed energy was tied to it very closely, the strongest when she sang.
As always, he was enchanted by its beauty, enamored with its warmth. Due to his Limitless abilities, he had shunned the vast majority of the world, blocking it from him, but he was admittedly selfish when it came to her cursed energy. He loved the way it could wrap around him like a blanket and how it seemed to sink into his soul and mingle with his, even if she wasn’t boosting him.
“Are you going to stare at me until the sun falls or will you join me?”
She didn’t tear her attention away from the flowers, keeping her focus, but he knew the question was for him.
He smiled. “Can I not enjoy the view?”
“I can feel the weight of your Six Eyes.”
“Is it unpleasant?”
Finally, she looked up at him, a lovely blush on her cheeks. “It is…distracting.”
His smile broadened, and he pushed away from the column, stepping into the garden to join her. “Ah, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
She eyed him sideways but did not say anything. Stubborn as she could be, he was determined to find other ways to distract her. Just as she had caught his attention, he had snagged hers, the two of them caught by each other against all odds.
*
Even though it’s late, the bar is still in full swing. Music is blaring over the speakers, there’s a baseball game playing on TV somewhere, people are chattering loudly, phones going off – Satoru hasn’t even drank anything, and he’s already rubbing his temples in disgruntlement. It’s easy to heal himself now that he has Reverse Curse Technique to constantly revitalize himself and keep Limitless and Six Eyes running at all times, but that doesn’t stop him from getting overwhelmed by the constant barrage of the world around him sometimes.
“Are you okay?”
The sudden question genuinely manages to startle Satoru, especially when he looks over and realizes that it’s Utahime who asked him. She’s looking up at him with glossy eyes, not entirely dazed, and there’s a flush to her cheeks that he knows is from the alcohol she’s been drinking all night.
He can’t help it. When it comes to Utahime, it’s a reflex for him to smile and joke. “Worried about me?”
Unlike usual though, Utahime doesn’t scowl or snap at him like a tsundere. Instead, she says, “You look like you’re in pain,” and his defenses falter. She can sometimes be a bad drunk, especially when she’s in a mood, but tonight, it appears as if the alcohol has softened her. It’s a bit ridiculous since everyone around them is rowdy and out of control, but here she is, sitting at a table with him while their friends are elsewhere.
“Uh, yeah, it’s just…a lot,” Satoru admits.
Utahime waves a hand about in the air. “All the cursed energy and stuff?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“It’s a lot for me too.” A sheepish grimace flickers across her face. “It’s…kind of why I always end up drinking too much whenever we go out. The alcohol dulls everything.”
Satoru wrinkles his nose. “I can’t stand that.”
“Hm, yeah, it doesn’t really make it feel better,” Utahime replies.
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
Utahime shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m hoping it’ll be different this time.”
“And tonight?”
She shakes her head. It makes sense, though he didn’t think about it much before. Due to the nature of her cursed technique, Utahime is uniquely attuned to cursed energy, which likely means it affects her more. The stronger the cursed energy, the more hers is likely to react. She loves baseball, but she doesn’t attend games very often. Maybe it has something to do with the crowds. She always gets so rowdy and worked up whenever they go out. Is it because of her cursed energy?
In a strange way, she and him are similar in that respect. Because of Six Eyes, he views the world in cursed energy, using them to chart his path and etch out the scene before him. Like always, his attention is snagged by her cursed energy, though he can tell she’s doing her best to keep it as dim as possible.
If she were to let it all out, everyone’s eyes would be on her. They wouldn’t be able to help themselves, just as he couldn’t sometimes.
“You make it even worse,” Utahime adds absentmindedly.
Satoru tilts his head. “Me?”
“Yeah, you’re so…” Utahime gestures at him. “Bright. All the time.”
“Is that your way of telling me that I’m distracting?” Satoru asks teasingly.
Finally, Utahime’s familiar scowl makes an appearance. “It’s annoying.”
He rests his arm on the table, leaning in close. “Is it annoying or is it enchanting?”
Before Utahime can fire something back at him, Shoko reappears, the lingering scent of smoke clinging to her jacket. “I’m back, so you can stop flirting now.”
Utahime’s eyes widen. “I’m– I’m not–”
As Utahime continues to sputter, Satoru laughs, the headache in his head subsiding. He shouldn’t do it, but he lowers Infinity just enough to allow Utahime’s cursed energy to wash over him. It’s warm and soothing in a way that he can never quite capture with Reverse Cursed Technique. He’s not supposed to let anything touch him, but there’s just something about Utahime’s cursed energy that tricks him into thinking it’s okay.
It’s…familiar – like he’s known it his whole life, as much as he’s known his own.
*
The King of Curses was all but knocking at their door before he knew it.
Powerful sorcerers from across Japan had converged in Kyoto to discuss the massive threat to Jujutsu society. Special Grade curses had existed throughout history since the inception of Jujutsu itself, but this curse, Sukuna, was a true calamity. If he wasn’t dealt with soon, his dangerous powers would spill out of Japan and threaten to taint the rest of the world.
As it stood, he, the Six Eyes user, was the only one strong enough to defeat him, and so he sat at the head of the table during the many meetings. He would be the one to cut the head off this King of Curses, and with the help of the sorcerers around him, they would seal him away for as many centuries as possible.
With the darkness hanging over them, Uta’s light flickered like a lone candle in the dark.
The other sorcerers were curious about her, he could tell. Plenty of strong female sorcerers were sat among them, but she was different. Her cursed energy was not on the same level as theirs, and yet he made sure to sit her at the table by his side. Under the table, just out of everyone’s sight, he kept a hand on her thigh and one of her hands overlapping his.
When the meetings were adjourned, Uta swept out of the room to attend to their son, ignoring the many eyes that followed her. Their curiosity was not unwarranted. Many wondered about the woman who had enraptured the Six Eyes so thoroughly. As the head of his clan and holder of Six Eyes and Limitless, he was expected to marry a woman closer to his standing and retain a group of concubines to have multiple heirs.
But Uta had been a mere shrine maiden when he met her. She didn’t even know her birth parents. As far as anyone knew, she was a nobody, but now she was the wife of the Gojo clan head and strongest sorcerer of their time. She was the only one. Unlike other clan heads, he retained no concubines nor did he have a second or third wife. She alone had him. It was very unusual.
And yet… The hint of her cursed energy would’ve been enough to entice them. Once noticed, it was impossible to ignore. It was even sweeter now that she was with child again. The swell of her stomach was just visible underneath her kimono, proof of his pride and their union.
Once he could slip away, he sought out her cursed energy using Six Eyes, finding it in their son’s room. She was gazing out the window, worrying at her thumbnail, the paint chipped. Their son was sound asleep in the corner of the room, his mouth wide open, one of his feet sticking out from the blanket. Safe and happy, oblivious to the danger threatening to swallow their country. He would do everything in his power to keep it that way for his family.
He slid his arms around her from behind, laying his palm on her stomach. “I could hear your thoughts. You were not focused tonight.”
“We should move him to one of the inner rooms,” she said, gazing distantly out the window. “This is too exposed. I could not stop thinking of a curse slipping inside without us knowing.”
“Next, you will suggest he sleep with us,” he teased.
Uta glanced at him over her shoulder. “You are taking this too lightly.”
“I’m not,” he swore. “I will defeat this threat, as I have with all my past enemies.”
“This is different,” Uta pointed out.
“Yes, it is.” Using his hold on her, he gently turned her around to face him, taking one of her hands in his. “Because I have you.” She looked down at their hands, watching him rub his thumb over her skin. “My shining beacon, my guiding light.”
“What if I’m not enough?”
“You are,” he promised, lifting her hand to kiss the back of it. “No one knows of your gift. Sukuna expects to battle with me. He will not be prepared to fight someone much stronger.”
He would end this curse, and the golden age of sorcery would continue peacefully. That was why he had been born in this time, he was sure of it, and this was why he had found her.
*
They’re knee-deep in boring-ass dusty scrolls somewhere in the bowels of Jujutsu High when Satoru abruptly decides to ask, “How much do you know about the Heian Era?”
Considering they’re literally standing in the middle of history, it’s not entirely a far-off or random question, but it does garner a comically quizzical look from Utahime. “Huh?”
Satoru runs his fingers over the spine of a dusty book, grateful for Infinity barring it from dirtying him. “You were more into all the history of sorcery and stuff than me. I remember you being kind of a nerd about it.”
“I wasn’t–” Utahime glowers. “One way to progress is by studying the past. We can learn from it. In fact, everything we know of Jujutsu now is because of sorcerers and curses in history.” She gestures around them. “This whole room is filled with lost knowledge we could gain from. Who knows what’s been forgotten in time?”
“Pretty sure all we’re gonna get here is the plague or maybe asthma.”
“It’s interesting,” Utahime insists.
“It’s boring,” Satoru counters.
Rolling her eyes, Utahime resumes her search for a specific scroll. Knowing her luck, it’s probably buried underneath one of the fallen bookcases. They really should send a group of Managers down here to organize this place. He’s certainly not going to do it.
“If history is so boring, then why are you asking me about it?” Utahime questions.
“Dunno.” Satoru shrugs. “Just popped into my head.”
“The Heian Era was known as the golden age of sorcery,” Utahime explains, looking close to getting on her hands and knees. Now that would be funny. She’d be covered in dirt. No doubt there are spiders down here, maybe even a rat or two. She’ll scream to the high heavens if one of those comes crawling out, even if she’s not as big of a chicken anymore. “Jujutsu was at its peak, along with sorcerers and curses. You likely wouldn’t have been the strongest sorcerer.”
Satoru snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“Sorcerers were more abundant back then,” Utahime says. “There was even a Six Eyes and Limitless user. His power was said to be unmatched, which is a feat since Jujutsu was stronger back then.”
“Oh really?”
Utahime tossed him an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “Surely you know that. You would’ve learned about any past users from your clan’s history. That would’ve been essential to teach you about your techniques.”
“Maybe. I wasn’t one for history lessons.”
With a tired huff, Utahime turns her back on him again. “Now start looking. The sooner we find this scroll, the sooner we can get out of here.” She shuddered. “And I can take a shower.”
“Well now, that’s all the motivation I need.”
Utahime bolts upright. “That’s not–”
But Satoru is already slipping past her, sliding a hand over her back just enough to make her shiver. “C’mon, Uta, let’s finish this so we can take a shower.”
She’s muttering furiously, cursing him out under his breath, but now that he isn’t facing her, the careless smile falls from Satoru’s face. He doesn’t want to admit that being in this room makes him uneasy, and that isn’t because of the dust and cobwebs. He’s never been in this room before – and yet he knows he has been, except it didn’t look like this.
He remembers it now.
*
His first clash with the King of Curses leveled an entire town.
The fight ended in a stalemate with both sides retreating to lick their wounded egos and strategize their next move. He was secretly humiliated to admit Sukuna was far stronger than he expected. The curse was unlike any other enemy he had faced, curse or curse user. He was more than a monster. He was devastation in physical form, reeking of unchecked power and cruelty.
It wasn’t just his responsibility to defeat Sukuna and seal him away. It was a necessity. His reign of terror could not be allowed to continue, or it would consume all of Jujutsu society.
“You did not use your wife,” Tengen pointed out.
He turned to look at the other sorcerer, though his expression could’ve been either indignant or sheepish, depending on how one took it. “This was a test. I needed to see Sukuna’s strength for myself.”
“Was that the only reason?” Tengen pressed.
It wasn’t, but he is loathed to admit he was also afraid for his wife’s life. She was six months with child, and he knew from past experience that while her cursed energy was higher, her technique became more volatile. He wouldn’t just be risking her life but also that of their unborn child’s. His plan was to keep her out of the fight for as long as possible, even though it frustrated her.
She didn’t like to be held back. She thought he was treating her like she was weak, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She was his brightest treasure – and his greatest weakness. She wasn’t weak. He was, and he couldn’t allow Sukuna to find out.
“It will require everything to defeat Sukuna,” Tengen added.
“I know, but I do not think it wise to use her ability just yet,” he argued coolly. “Sukuna is unaware of her, so I should only use her as a last resort.”
Tengen sighed. “You are afraid. You cannot be afraid in this battle. He will feed off your fear.”
He clenched his jaw. “I will starve him then.”
He was the holder of Six Eyes and Limitless, the head of the great Gojo clan, the strongest sorcerer of their time in the golden age of sorcery. He would destroy Sukuna if it was the last thing he did and bring peace to Japan.
But he was also a husband and a father. He had never expected such simple titles to bring him to his knees.
“This battle will determine more than our current age,” Tengen said. “It will shape the future, both our descendents and Jujutsu itself.” She lit a stick of incense, blew it out, and set the tip in place carefully. He watched the smoke drift lazily into the air, twisting into the hint of figures and shadows. “You cannot hold back, Six Eyes. Sukuna is not the only enemy at your door.”
He frowned, glaring sideways underneath the bandages shielding his eyes. “Do you think I am unaware of the vipers hiding in the tall grass?”
“No, I know you see them,” Tengen replied, “but I fear you do not think enough of them.”
“I will crush them too – after Sukuna.”
Tengen offered a small smile. “If only the last holder of Six Eyes had grown to be as sure as you.”
*
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Satoru bursts into the bedroom, scaring the shit out of Utahime in bed.
Once she realizes that it’s not some crazy intruder and is, in fact, her most annoying colleague, Utahime fixes her face with a scowl and shoots back, “What the fuck, Gojo?”
Unfortunately, with a bandage covering half her face, including one of her eyes, her scowl doesn’t hold the same effect as usual. Its strength is severely diminished by the severe wound she suffered the night before.
“Gojo,” Shoko warns from behind. “I told you to leave her alone. She needs her rest.”
“What she needs is a reality check,” Satoru shoots back. He looks at Shoko, waiting a beat before returning his attention to the woman sat up in one of Jujutsu High’s guest rooms for visiting sorcerers. “You know you’re not supposed to engage with curse users.”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Utahime demands. “Stand back and watch my students get slaughtered?”
Satoru grits his teeth, a muscle twitching in his jaw. When Utahime took the position to teach at Kyoto Tech, he had been quietly relieved. While she could still be requested by sorcerers for her cursed technique, she would no longer be given solo missions. It would take out of the limelight. It would keep her safe. Sure, she’d been a little disappointed at first, but it wasn’t long before she began to truly blossom. She loved teaching, and no one was more fit for it than her.
Teaching was supposed to keep her out of harm’s way – until last night when she decided to throw herself in the middle of a fight. The grade one curse had been a mere ruse for curse users to lure out unprepared sorcerers and, if Satoru’s suspicions were correct, specifically her. Soro Soro Kinku isn’t widely known, a carefully guarded secret, but all it takes is the wrong person to know the truth.
And the worst curse user is history is very much aware of its strength. Satoru can’t be sure Suguru is to blame, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone close to him betrayed him when it came to Utahime.
She is historically his weakness, but he can’t let her know that.
“You should’ve called me,” Satoru tells her.
“There wasn’t any time,” Utahime insists.
“That curse user was above your pay grade. You could’ve died.”
“And yet I didn’t,” Utahime spits out.
They did.
She doesn’t say the words out loud, likely because they sting too much. Utahime has always had a kinder soul than most sorcerers, even if she hides it under either a mask of respect or irritation. Even though the curse user who laid out the trap was technically stronger than Utahime and her two students, she had killed him. She didn’t take in pride or pleasure in the death, even if it was justified.
As angry as he is for her throwing herself into danger, he can’t help but feel a stroke of admiration. She’s so much stronger than she realizes. It’s better to keep it that way.
“Why are you so worked up about it anyway?” Utahime grumbles.
Because I can’t bear to watch you die again.
The thought flickers to life in the forefront of Satoru’s mind, escaping from the locked space he’s kept carefully compartmentalized over the past few years. For a long time, he thought they were just strange dreams, brought on by cursed energy and all the history he’d had shoved into his brain as a kid. Contrary to what Utahime might believed, he studied history a lot, if only to help him understand Six Eyes and Limitless more.
He read about all the previous holders of Six Eyes and their varying levels of strength. One barely made it out of infancy, which, considering the multiple assassination attempts on his life as a kid, wasn’t a surprise. They weren’t all as strong as him nor did they have as firm of a handle on both techniques. Satoru is special. Only one previous holder was also capable of Reverse Curse Technique, from the Heian Era.
There was also something else special about that particular user, hidden deep within the scrolls locked in the bowels of the Gojo clan estate.
He had a wife with a very special gift.
Uta.
The name echoes in his mind as he gazes at Utahime from behind his bandages. There were a few faded and torn paintings from back then, not as carefully preserved as the records on clan heads. The wife – or wives, in many cases – were often forgotten and pushed aside in favor of the male heirs they produced. They were forgotten in time, but not her. She was one of few who stood the test of time.
Perhaps in more ways than just historical records.
The images that haunted him sometimes when he slept weren’t just strange dreams. They were memories – of the past, of another Six Eyes holder, of them.
Without warning, Satoru reaches out to cup her face. She startles, her visible eye widening in shock, and remains utterly still as he strokes his thumb along the bandage across her cheek. “Don’t go on anymore dangerous missions, okay? Not without me.”
“Why?” Utahime asks, but he notices the lack of heat and the breathiness of her voice. “Because I’m weak?”
Because I am, Satoru thinks, for the first time. It’s historically proven.
“Something like that,” he says instead.
*
In the end, Tengen was right: he needed Uta to boost him with Soro Soro Kinku to defeat Sukuna. It had only been a month since the birth of her daughter, and she was still healing, but they could not afford to hesitate or wait any longer. Mustering all the strength in her, his wife performed the complete ritual, filling him with more cursed energy than he could possibly imagine.
Her long dark hair tied back with ribbon, wearing a simple kosode and hakama not unlike her old Miko outfit, and a fierce look of determination written on her face, barefoot as she danced, she was the most beautiful vision he had ever witnessed. It took him back to the night where he first laid his eyes on her. He’d thought himself a grown man, but he wasn’t, just a boy enamored with a seemingly unattainable girl.
But she was his now, in every way, and so was her cursed energy and cursed technique. It poured into him, causing his own strength to rise. It was overwhelming, threatening to knock him off balance, but he allowed it to sweep him out to tide, let it carry him to a higher plain.
When he fought Sukuna this time, he did not hold back. They fought for hours, waste laid in their wake, wounding and healing, always burning.
He had nearly secured victory when he realized something was wrong, but it was too late.
Without warning, her beacon of light was snuffed out. It was more distracting than the sudden drop in his cursed energy, which allowed to Sukuna to land a solid hit against his chest. The breath was knocked from his lungs, but he managed to stay on his fight, tightening his muscles and blocking another blow with Infinity.
Sukuna should’ve been his sole focus, but all he could think about was her. Where was her light? What had happened to her? He searched for it in the distance, but there was only a terrifying flicker, as if someone was trying to smother it.
Laughter snagged his attention, bringing him back to glare at Sukuna. “What have you done?”
“The last time we fought, I saw her,” Sukuna taunted. “How far along was she? Eight? Nine months with child? I thought you cruel for forcing her to help you, only to realize it was of her own doing.” He remembered, but he hadn’t thought Sukuna noticed. She’d only used a hint of her technique before he forced her to leave. “It was beautiful. I was enthralled.”
“Kenjaku told me about your little trick,” Sukuna taunted. “Do you think she’s stronger than my Uraume?”
True horror sank its teeth into his bones. “No. Why would he–?”
Sukuna smiled. “You should not have trusted your heart so easily with others.”
The world grew darker around him, narrowing into a pinpoint. Her light, his soul thought frantically, where was her light? Now that she had given him this gift, he couldn’t imagine living in the world without it. The whole place would be dimmer, with less color, lacking brightness.
Even a mile away, he felt the cut – the slash that would leave a mark upon her face. It dug into his soul, carving out a hole where she belonged. His heart, his strength, his weakness. He had promised to protect her, yet he had used her and left her vulnerable.
The world was colder and harsher without her light.
And so was he, even without her gift.
*
Utahime lets out a huff, her breath fogging in the cold December air. “I don’t understand.”
Satoru eyes her sideways. “I thought the plan was pretty clear.”
“Why are you so insistent on Ijichi casting a barrier?”
“That’s also clear,” Satoru points out. “It’s to shield my attack from Sukuna. If he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, it’ll catch him unaware and cause the maximum damage.”
“Yes, I get that,” Utahime sighs, “but what about after? Why do you want him to continue holding it?”
Satoru doesn’t have an immediate answer. Even Ijichi was confused by the order, but unlike Utahime, he didn’t question her. It’s really quite simple. There’s only one reason Ijichi would continue holding the barrier, and that’s to shield anyone behind it. There will be two people, not including himself.
He only cares about one of them, if he’s being honest.
Satoru tilts his head back to gaze up the building. “You can keep boosting me from a distance, right?”
“It’s a little more difficult and not as strong.” Utahime hesitates, frowning, then continues, “But yes, I can.”
She peers at him sideways, a soft look in her amber eyes. She’s been giving him odd looks like that for a while, even before all this shit happened. He can even pinpoint the exact moment something shifted between them, though neither of them bring it up.
It was nearly a year ago, a cold Christmas night, when he sought her out and dragged him into her bed. The world was so dark that night, even after Rika’s release, but she brightened it. His light, his beacon, his heart. He could feel warmth again, even though a part of him wondered if it was a mistake. After all, it hadn’t worked out the first time they were together. How could he be sure this time would be different?
“Of course, Soro Soro Kinku would be much more effective if I was closer–”
“No.”
Utahime furrows her brow. “But–”
“No,” Satoru repeats, shutting the suggestion down firmly. “No matter what happens, you aren’t to engage with Sukuna. You stay behind the barrier and boost me from here.” Her expression hardens, signaling she’s about to argue with him, so he steps closer to her. “Even if I die, even if Sukuna kills me, you aren’t to fight him. You go to the location of his finger and make sure it’s safe.”
“Don’t insult me, Gojo,” Utahime spats. “I’m not that weak.”
“I know you’re not.” Satoru touches her face softly, and she falters, her eyes widening. It’s always so easy to knock her off balance, but this is his favorite way. It’s self-indulgent, the sweetest treat he can imagine. “But I am.”
Utahime lets out a shaky breath. “Satoru…”
“I won’t be able to focus if I think you’re in danger,” Satoru tells her. “I can’t let you get hurt again.”
She snatches his hand when his thumb brushes over her scar. “Worry about yourself first, then me. Let me help you.”
He smiles down at her. She thinks he's referring to the scar on her face. He's not, not this one at least. The paintings never showed Uta's face with the scar given to her by the enemy, only her beauty. It was the past Six Eyes holder's failure.
It wouldn't be his. He wouldn't make that mistake again, not with his heart.