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She was 2 years old when it happened, so she doesn’t remember how it feels.
But she’s guessing it’s something like this.
Her body trembles, a cold sensation shivering through her from head to toe, her curse energy almost uncontrollable and overflowing.
Even when she’s 450km away now, she can feel it.
Just like when he came to this world 28 years ago, Gojo Satoru has set foot on the earth once again.
“Took you long enough, I thought you’re the strongest.” Utahime sips her tea, can’t even be bothered to move her gaze when he warps to her balcony.
“I’ve been gone more than two weeks and that’s the first thing my senpai says to me?” Gojo stepped onto the balcony with a grin, his voice warm despite the teasing. “Ouch, Hime. You wound me.”
Utahime didn’t even glance his way. “You stink. Don’t come any closer.”
He kept walking, unfazed. “What, no welcome back hug? No ‘oh Gojo, I missed you so much’?”
“You really hug your students like this? Reeking of... whatever it is in that box?” She shifted slightly, keeping her mug between them like a weak barrier.
“My lovely students don’t complain,” he said, pausing just a step away. “Yours do, though. Guess I know who they learned it from.”
“I taught them boundaries,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing. “Take a bath.”
“Or what?” He tilted his head, smiling. “You’ll purify me with that tea of yours?”
She moved back instinctively when he leaned closer, arm half-raised to stop him. “I’m serious, Gojo.”
“Come on,” he said softly, catching her wrist, not tightly, just enough to still it. “Just a little hug. Maybe a kiss, if you're feeling merciful.”
“No.” Her voice was firmer now. “Bath. Now. Or get out.”
He stepped even closer, enough that she could feel the heat of him, and lowered his voice to a murmur. “Oh? So you want to kiss and hug me if I'm naked and exposed? I apologize, didn’t realize that was your plan, Hime.”
She bristled, ready to fire back, but her words caught somewhere between outrage and flustered silence. “Who said—”
Before she could protest, everything around them blurred.
He pulls her into his chest and instantly teleports them. In the blink of an eye, they’re in a place she didn’t know and both their clothes are soaked.
“I should’ve gone there and prevented them from freeing you.”
“But you didn’t.” He smirked.
“Where are we?”
“A secret hot spring far from the city, Mei-san brought Nanamin here after his promotion.”
“Oh…” Does he know? He must have, he’d notice the absence.
Utahime stood still for a moment, the warmth of the hot spring mist curling around her skin, but she couldn’t feel it, her chest tightened. Gojo was hugging her, whole, smiling, talking like he hadn’t just vanished into a void of cursed death.
She hated this part of him, the way he acted like everything was fine, like he hadn’t just scared the world half to death. But she also envied it. Because right now, her knees were weak, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden teleportation, or just the relief.
He’s really back. Not a rumor. Not a cruel hope. Not another body to burn.
She wanted to scream at him. Hit him. Hug him. All at once.
Instead, her heart was pounding like a cursed drum. He was still teasing, still grinning like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
He released her for a moment to take off his t-shirt and threw it away.
“Like what you see?” He saw her gaze.
“What did they feed you inside that cube? Pretty sure you aren’t this big.”
“I’m just chilling there, thinking about the kids, and you. Wish they had kikufuku, we should get some after this.” He pulled her closer and shut his eyes.
His lips found her neck, and he began to leave kisses all the way to her cheeks.
“I miss you so much.” He confessed before reaching her scar.
Utahime blushed. Based on experience, she knew where this was going.
“Do you want to?” She untied her miko attire and slowly undressed herself.
Gojo stared for a moment, then pulled her in, halfway through undressing. Hugging her tightly, burying his face on her neck and clinging like it was his lifeline, like he can’t live if he let go.
“Later.” He said. “Just wanna hold you now.”
He didn’t need anything more than this. Just this moment. Just her, alive and warm in his arms.
Utahime didn’t say anything. She let the fabric slip from her shoulders, pooling silently at her waist before she pulled it back up and returned his hug.
The steam rose between them, but the air wasn’t thick with tension anymore, it was soft. Heavy with everything unsaid.
Gojo leaned them back against the edge of the spring, head tilted toward the sky like he could finally breathe again. His eyes, bright and bare, glowed like stars above. Free of the blindfold that usually dimmed them. The moonlight touched his face for the first time in what felt like forever. He looked tired. Not just physically. Deeper than that.
“You’re not gonna say you miss me?” he said.
“I do, unfortunately. Miss you so much.” she replied with a heavy sigh.
A beat passed. Just the gentle sound of water lapping around them.
“I was nowhere,” he shut his eyes and finally said. “No light. No sound. Just my own voice bouncing around in my head. Every memory. Every regret.”
Utahime turned to look at him, the raw honesty in his tone cutting through her usual defenses.
“And now you’re back,” she said softly.
He nodded, eyes still closed. “Feels bizarre being back, like I’m the second coming of Christ or something.”
“Like it or not, you’re the center of this mess.” she said softly.
Gojo cracked one eye open and gave a small, genuine smile.
“You haven’t changed.”
“And neither have you.”
A quiet pause settled between them.
"You know, they bring me back. But I feel like I came back on my own. Because I needed to."
She didn’t respond with words. Instead, she tightened her embrace, locking their bodies together.
“And you’re not going anywhere, ever again,” she whispered.
Gojo let out a soft breath and closed his eyes, the tension melting from his shoulders as he finally let himself relax in her hold.
She smiled softly, her breath warm against his skin.
Without a word, no mischief in his eyes this time, just quiet longing and peace. Just gratitude. And longing. And a kind of peace.
No more words were needed.
Not tonight.