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When Ijichi woke up that morning, the slumber of dread was already weighing on him.
Some days it was like that. He still dreamed— it felt more like nightmares— about that day and all they left behind. Of that gruesome December 24th, 2018, when Ryōmen Sukuna battled the strongest sorcerer from the modern era and changed everything.
Some days, Ijichi Kiyotaka was still there.
Trembling with fear, tense with worry, shocked with impotence, wishing he could be stronger, to be able to stand among the young ones that put their lives on the line, when he could only pray that they come up victorious.
Because he was weak. And the only thing he could provide, he gave it the moment it was asked from him. Because—
“You still don't get it, do you? You're the man I trust the most.” Those words, spoken a long time ago, were a testament to what was expected of him and what he could give as well to the world that he cast aside for a better chance at survival. And he was up to repaying such a gift since he realized.
But not today, at least.
Ijichi was calm on the outside. His breathing was even; his body was still lying in bed, quietly, unmoving. But inside his mind, there was a turmoil building tension, like the restlessness he got despite having longer sleeping nights and less stressful tasks at work.
That's when he realized his phone, the one he accustomed to put on silent mode at night nowadays, was buzzing in the nightstand beside his bed, alerting him already.
Weird thing, considering this was his day off.
Still, Ijichi rolled slightly in the bed and reached for the phone without looking at the screen, answering already.
“Hi, this is Ijichi spea—?”
“Oi, Ijichi!” Ijichi jumped from the bed instantly, the adrenaline rushing through his veins with a sudden sense of urgency, fear, and stress. He felt the headache coming right away. “Why did it take you so long to pick up?” There was a pout in the voice, making Ijichi shiver with anxiety. “Well, where are you now?”
“I'm sorry, I just—” Ijichi was beyond words, unable to come up with an appropriate response, his muscles already sore with the reality coming to bite him.
“It's okay, no matter.” The assistant director felt like sighing in relief at the quick change of topic. “Listen, I need you to come right away.”
“Wh-why is that?”
“It's because—!”
“Who are you talking with?” The silence reigned between both sides as the soft and feminine call appeared in the back on the other side of the line. The deadly muteness weighed with tension. “I've asked you a question.”
Silence.
Then, a gasp.
“Come. Now!”
Then a scream, a rumble. The struggle of forces, the white sound of the speaker brushing against fabrics and skins, followed by a thud.
“Give me that!” The feminine voice was clearer than before, closer amidst soft giggles.
“Ijichi, you must come to save me!” His main caller yelled, but it felt far away by now, probably due to the struggle on the other side of the line.
“Did you call Ijichi-san this early!?” Ijichi sighed with defeat at the alarmed tone of the woman. How could he achieve some peace when a pandemonium was rising there? “Give me that!”
More struggling sounds.
“A— ha!”
“Wha—!? Not fair!”
“Go eat your breakfast now!” The woman’s voice was commanding and firm. The other one’s voice pouted with defeat as the stomps of their feet moved away, becoming so little as seconds passed.
Ijichi could picture the mess on the other side of the line. Cushions out of place, probably flown away by now, and the woman was probably pinching the bridge of her nose, about to burst in anger.
It surely felt familiar. Ijichi couldn't help but smile with tiredness.
“Ijichi-san, are you still there?” The woman's voice on the other side of the line finally spoke, and he surprised himself by noticing how calm she was.
“I’m sorry, Utahime-san, I—”
“I’m so sorry, Ijichi-san.” Iori Utahime interrupted him immediately, speaking softly, deeply embarrassed. “He already knows this is your day off; I didn't expect he would call you anyway.”
“It’s okay, I—”
“So, don't need to fret at all! I'll take care of this; you enjoy your day off, okay?” Utahime’s voice was lively and kind, and Ijichi felt nervous as the excessive sweetness in her tone meant something bad.
Perhaps bad for his caller, more than for him.
Still, he felt somehow guilty to ignore the request handed to him. “If you don't mind, I would like to go check if perhaps you need someth—”
“What are you talking about, Ijichi-san? Everything is okay; Shōko and Mei visited the other day, so we’re doing okay. You just have some fun!” Utahime’s voice kept soft and pliant.
“Ijichi, don't forget to come!” There they were again, in the back of their side of the line, making him flinch.
“Go back to your breakfast, you brat!” Utahime roared with desperation before turning to the line with him again, the tone completely different. “Anyway! Don't worry about us, okay? See you tomorrow!” And the line went dead when she finally hung up.
The sense of hurry remained even after minutes passed since the call ended. Ijichi lied on his bed, holding the phone in a hand, lost in the memories.
This felt like the old times, when Ijichi called upon Gojō Satoru, and he dismissed him, just for the sake of seeing him troubled— at least, Ijichi Kiyotaka was convinced it was just for that. But also, this was so reminiscing about those times said man called, just because he got an idea, and he was the only one who could put up with him.
It was coming back to him again.
Unable to keep calm and still shaken by the recent call, Ijichi finally rose from the bed and prepared himself for the day.
He barely had any day off, but he wasn't complaining. For the past seven years, the workload had been decreasing, as curses were more manageable than before because they had highly-prepared people in their ranks. Besides, he had no particular plans for the day, so visiting Utahime wasn't that bad after all.
So he cooked himself a hearty breakfast. Then did some home chores, some laundry. Later, he ventured to the city, where he could get a copy of the last volume of the series he’d been reading, and he found out an exhibition for said series will be hosted soon.
Ijichi couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he could use another day off in the future for visiting. Or, if perchance, it could be a good idea if he brought them along.
His last stop for the day was Utahime’s home. Of course, he couldn’t forget; they were waiting for him to come. Good thing Iori Utahime’s main residence was in Tokyo now. She transferred right away, once the battle against Sukuna was over. Ijichi always wondered why, but with time he realized this was for safety.
And because that was the only way she could get the closest to all she lost.
She lived in an apartment in Azabudai, quite far from the Sorcery School. Utahime alleged it was a well-needed change of pace and no one opposed— if someone, Mei Mei rebutted, insisting she could get a bigger place.
As he walked the stairs towards the 5th floor, Ijichi held in his hands a package of Kasugai melon gummies he brought as a peace offering and trembled. It was already getting late, and he was starting to get nervous.
It was all coming back to him again; he was going to get scolded for being late once more. He feared those daunting blue eyes berating him without Ijichi doing anything to save his case.
He finally stood by the door with the 5-341 number and rang the doorbell, shivering, waiting. It finally took a moment when the door opened and a well-known figure appeared on the other side.
“Ah! Ijichi-san!” It was Utahime’s voice that finally emerged from the apartment to look at him with astounding surprise, opening the door ajar to let him in. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you—”
“I was close by—” a small, white lie to ease Utahime’s worry, “and I wouldn’t want him to get angry at me for not showing up.” He smiled weakly, and Utahime stared at him, surely noticing the small tremble on the curve of his smile.
She must have seen his nervousness, because she giggled softly, allowing him in the foyer so he could take his shoes off. “That’s ridiculous. You know full well he can’t stay mad for long. I’m sure he would understand.”
“Still, I wouldn't want to—”
“Ijichi!” The assistant director felt the goosebumps right away, freezing him on the spot as the call came from inside the apartment, down the corridor. “You really came!” The tone was bright and cheerful as the man shivered in the foyer, unable to move anymore.
For a moment, Ijichi wondered if this was Gojō Satoru talking through the small figure emerging on the opposite side of the corridor to him. He was still pretty short— totally normal for a little kid of six—, but the resemblance was strikingly haunting.
All of a sudden, the boy rushed in a sprint, jumping before he reached the foyer, straight to him, and Ijichi barely catched him in his arms, losing some balance while Utahime grumbled an admonishment toward the boy.
He was getting heavier by the day. He couldn’t be carrying him up in the following weeks for sure.
“Now, let Ijichi-san get into the house accordingly, come’ere.” Utahime spoke with patience, extending her arms towards the boy in Ijichi’s arms, and the boy hopped to her with a single motion.
“He’s on time for tea!” The boy smiled happily, his little arms clung around his mother’s neck while Ijichi removed his last shoe and finally stood by the corridor of polished wood. The assistant director couldn’t help but stare at them; his gaze focused on the boy, fully aware of the similarity with his father.
He even had the same dimples.
Sometimes, Ijichi wondered when this happened.
He still remembered that day, when he saw them before the Shinjuku Showdown on December 24th, 2018, from afar. Gojō Satoru was close, and Iori Utahime wasn't rejecting him. Leaning close. The pull and drag. The sweet embrace.
Ijichi had believed until then that she hated him. It seemed it was just a façade for something heavier, deeper.
And just as they meet Iori Utahime and Principal Gakuganji on the roof of the Shibuya Sky, ready to prepare the launching attack for the battle to begin, Utahime rushed to Gojō Satoru one last time, and they kissed in front of them. The secrecy was needless anymore.
That day was certainly a mess, weighing up until the present in the hearts of everyone who witnessed the disastrous outcome, but it probably was the worst for Iori Utahime.
Because a month and a half later, it was announced she was pregnant with Gojō Satoru’s child.
The last memento left by the strongest sorcerer of all time, sparkling with life, growing inside Iori Utahime like a friendly reminder of him.
If everybody was shocked, nobody would ever know how deep the grief of that woman was, as she held in her womb the last remains of the man who gave up his whole self, his body, and his humanity for a better world.
Both Utahime's and Gojō Satoru's students could do so much helping to keep her distracted and calm, but the roughest part of the process was taken by Ieiri Shōko and him, as they did their best to help her to keep it together through those harsh times while the system they knew crumbled on their feet and the restructuring occurred and her pregnancy came to term, taking turns to stay with her as much time as possible.
She did it for Utahime. He did it for the man who should be taking care of her and was no more.
When Utahime went into labor, Ieiri Shōko accompanied her during the process. He waited outside with all the students until they let him in, only him— as if this was their way to repay his concern— and Utahime presented him with the little gremlin— as Ieiri Shōko baptized him then— being a carbon copy of his father, with white tufts of hair and beautiful blue eyes.
For the longest time, Ijichi wondered if he should be doing all of that. Helping Ieiri Shōko to make sure Utahime was always fine and the baby was healthy, happy, and safe. He wasn’t friends with Gojō Satoru after all. He was his assistant director; they worked together for a long time. But he was the man Gojō Satoru trusted the most. Maybe that was the reason Gojō always riled him up. Because he was always there— with fear or a headache—, no matter what.
Besides, Ijichi felt this was correct. An appropriate way to pay back all the trust the strongest sorcerer of the modern era deposited on him.
After all, that little kid that would turn seven soon was the life Gojō Satoru left behind. A little one he would never know and would never see how strong and imposing their father is.
They would never know how doting Gojō Satoru would be as a father, and if perhaps he would really be a family man.
Ijichi had the hunch he would.
The melon candies he brought were spread on the coffee table, once they were set in the living room for some tea. Utahime sighed with resignation while seeing her child running around the house, leaving a mess here and there, wherever he walked. Ijichi never set foot on the place Gojō Satoru used to live, so he wasn’t entirely sure this particular trait was also his.
“Now, you probably are wondering why I called you today!” The little kid spoke, hiding behind the sofa, where Ijichi could only see the little sprout of his white hair. “And it’s because mama and I made something for you! Well, we made one for aunt Shōko—”
“Shōko will get mad at you if she happens to hear you calling her that.”
The boy huffed with tedium; Ijichi almost could picture the kid rolling his eyes, exactly like Utahime did at times. “Well, we made one for aunt Shōko-neechan too.” The kid replied with a mockery tone, and his mother rolled her eyes in disapproval, because he was doing that on purpose. “But we wanted to say ‘thank you’ for watching over us all these years! You didn't have to, but you did, and we are grateful.”
And that’s when the boy finally appeared in the living room, dragging with him what seemed like a curtain of hundreds of paper cranes cautiously folded and lined with beautiful colors. Ijichi felt a twist in his stomach, moved by the innocent way the kid rushed to him, and handed him the curtain to his hands.
“Mama counted them and some of them are crumpled because I ruined them, but they are a thousand paper cranes for you! So you're always healthy and fine!” The kid smiled before rushing to his mother, who received him with a soft caress on his back. “I’m sure papa must be happy and proud, right mama?” The boy said so innocently, staring intently toward his mother, and Ijichi felt like he could cry any moment now.
But he held himself, mustering the guts to keep smiling. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”
“Oi, Ijichi.” The boy, who was suddenly too quiet for the little menace he always was, spoke again. “Can I call you uncle?”
“Oh.” Another twist on the knot in his stomach. “Yeah, sure thing, go ahead, young master.”
“But then you should call me by name too!”
“Is it okay? Utahime-san—” Utahime nodded gently as she watched her son beaming happily and expectantly to the assistant director.
The way his smile extended through his face was exactly the same as his father.
He was named Satoshi, with the kanji of blessing, of grace. Utahime once explained that, upon considering the possibility of them having children, Gojō Satoru chose that name way before his fate in battle condemned them both: for the boy to grow fatherless and for Utahime to raise him alone.
Ijichi also wondered if this was a blessing for Gojō Satoru himself, a proof of his humanity living under better circumstances; for Iori Utahime, a reminder of the dreams the strongest sorcerer of the modern era shared with her; or if this was the blessing the sorcerer society would need in the future.
Iori Satoshi.
The boy was a Gojō without a doubt. He was the spitting image of his father after all, but Iori Utahime always alleged Gojō Satoru would want it that way, so the boy wasn’t bound to the atrocious clan customs, nor to the horrible family that raised his father.
And maybe his father was a captive of his own family, the system, and the power he was born with, but not this kid. Because his father gave him the only chance he got for a better future. One he himself won't see with his own eyes.
Because this boy was free.
With those thoughts in his mind, Ijichi finally sighed, smiling back at the kid.
“O-okay, Satoshi-kun.”