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What began as Suguru’s whim ended as Gojo’s milestone. Disneyland… a neon cathedral of plastic joy and synthetic dreams. It’s where Satoru Gojo asked Utahime Iori to be his girlfriend.
The trip wasn’t sanctioned, not officially. We went because Suguru wanted to. That was reason enough.
By mid-morning, we were already dripping with heat and sugar. I remember the caramel smell. The children shrieking past like curses dragging balloon tails. Suguru claimed me for every ride, no discussion. His hand at my waist, his arm over my shoulder. Routine, like brushing your teeth, or lighting a cigarette. Familiar enough that it barely registered.
Gojo trailed Utahime like a puppy, glued to her all day and hovering behind her like a shadow. Everyone around assumed they were dating. Which I think, was exactly what he wanted. And still, girls stared at him, because he’s stupidly tall, ridiculously handsome, especially when he’s not talking. He didn’t notice, or pretended not to. He was too busy showing off his “gentleman side” to his senpai. Buying her snacks, carrying her bag, making a big show of holding doors. Doing the whole boyfriend act without permission.
Suguru kissed me on every ride. Haunted Mansion, Pirates, Space Mountain. Dark corners are good for that. He kissed me bold, reckless and sloppy. A heat I welcomed, which is what I’ve always wanted anyway.
Meanwhile, behind us, Gojo and Utahime sat stiff, like two mannequins forced into the same display. He cracked dumb jokes. She ignored him, dead air thick as the ride’s fake dust. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.
Then came It’s a Small World. Suguru rested his head on my shoulder. In front of me, Gojo fumbled at making her laugh. She didn’t. The puppets sang in nauseating unison. I nearly laughed at the irony.
And then the Ferris wheel. A bad choice for someone like Utahime who hated heights. She stiffened the second the capsule lifted. Gojo, of course, was ecstatic. He leaned close to her, too cheerful, promising she’d be fine. She wasn’t. Her hands gripped the rail like it could keep her tethered to the earth.
That’s when he pulled one of his stunts. Just for a second, subtle enough no one else could tell, he used his technique. The wheel jolted, stopped mid-air with the city sprawling beneath us. Utahime froze. I swear she almost cursed him out right then and there. But when the capsule swayed, she did exactly what he wanted… clung to him, furious and terrified, and buried her face in his shoulder.
He grinned like a devil granted a wish. “See? I’ve got you, Utahime.”
Pathetic. And yet… effective. By the time the wheel resumed, she was still clutching him. He looked smug enough to fuel the whole park’s fireworks by himself.
Then the photos. Every ride we got off, there was Gojo with his wallet out. Even the blurry ones where Utahime looked miserable… didn’t matter if she looked like she was dying. Especially those. A whole gallery of her misery, curated by him. What a waste of money, but he looked at them like they were relics. Worship disguised as memorabilia.
Utahime’s camera didn’t escape either and became Gojo’s toy. He stole it and declared himself ‘official photographer’ for the day, snapping half-blurry candids of everyone, of her especially. Later, I caught him taking a selfie with her on his own phone. His grin was criminal.
We got on Splash Mountain… big mistake. We came out drenched like sewer rats. Utahime was shivering, furious. Gojo was thrilled. He dragged her into a store like a wannabe hero. “You’ll catch a cold! You need this one! No, no, let me pay!”
He reemerged minutes later with a bag stuffed full. A new shirt, a jacket, even socks and a pack of undergarments. He shoved the bag at Utahime, then draped the jacket on her shoulders as if he’d carried it through fire, like some awkward drama lead. She rolled her eyes and argued, but he kept pushing. She gave up, and ended up zipped in Disney merch while he grinned like he’d just solved world hunger.
And then the fireworks, of course. The ‘romantic climax’ of the happiest place on earth. Explosions of light split the heavens with sparkling blood red, bruised violet, and blinding gold.
Suguru’s arm draped around me, his mouth grazing my temple. The illusion of comfort. Warmth without consequence. I could’ve drowned in it. I thought I could live in that trance forever.
But then I turned, and I saw him.
Gojo looked nervous. Nervous in a way I didn’t think possible. A rare fracture in his armor. He muttered something to her, I saw her freeze. She looked away, then stared at her hands, then back at him. And blurted out something too. That caught him off guard.
Then he leaned down, a giraffe boy bending nearly in half because he’s stupidly tall against her small frame. She blinked once, then tilted her head, risking her neck. If she tilted any further, I swear she’d need a brace. His hand cradled her face, gentle, like a porcelain he’s scared to break. Then his lips touched hers.
Here’s the kicker. Utahime kissed him back. Didn’t see that one coming. I thought… she couldn’t stand him.
Guess not.
It lasted two seconds. Soft. Sweet. Barely there. A kiss abbreviated, like they were afraid the world might catch them.
Like a first sip of something you’re not sure you’re allowed to drink. It was nothing… and everything.
They jerked apart at the next explosion of fireworks. Utahime stared at the sky like she’d been rescued by it. Gojo snuck a glance at her instead, smiling like a boy who had stolen something precious and couldn’t believe he’d gotten away with it.
That lovesick idiot.
Watching Gojo the dork, buying jackets. Gojo the boy, falling in love. My favorite senpai, secretly liking it. It… I guess, caught me off guard. Gojo’s stupidity actually worked. I hadn’t expected her to want him, too.
He brushed his hand against hers, and she didn’t pull away. Then their fingers laced together, shy and sure all at once. They held hands through the crowd… on the way out.
I think back sometimes. To when this really started. The beginning feels like a half-forgotten dream.
Gojo met us both on the same day, Suguru and me. Utahime too. And somehow, she caught his attention in a way neither of us did. That irony still gnaws at me.
Gojo was a dork, an overgrown boy in tinted glasses. He was too loud, yes. But keen. Sharp enough that I felt the edge beneath his surface. His heart was unmissable. It burned brighter than his mouth. How strange, how ironic, that the Six Eyes heir, one of the untouchables, still reached out like a boy wanting not to be alone.
He wasn’t my type, not even close. Suguru was, obviously. He had that quiet danger, bad boy haze. Cigarettes, long hair. That was my speed.
I heard their voices before I stepped in. “It’ll be a girl.” “Let it be a girl… let her be cute.” And then my footsteps broke their bet. Gojo spun on me with all the subtlety of a firecracker, all teeth behind those tinted glasses. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I was dead-eyed as usual. “No.” I said flat, clinical, like a diagnosis. I added, “I’m not looking for one.”
He laughed, like I’d just thrown him a gauntlet.
Then Utahime appeared. Yaga had asked her to tour the newcomers around campus. She introduced herself properly, a neat little bow to make it official. “Utahime Iori. Third year—”
And of course, the idiot asked her the exact same thing. Gojo didn’t even let her finish before blurting, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Utahime’s face tightened like she’d swallowed vinegar. “Pardon?”
His grin only widened, waiting. Unfazed, he doubled down. “What? It’s an important question.”
Utahime straightened, eyes narrowing now. “Do you seriously ask every girl that?”
“Only the cute ones,” he answered, shameless.
“Where are your manners?” she shot back.
He laughed, like her irritation was a prize. “So… that’s a no?”
Her shoulders squared, the hesitation vanished.“That’s a none of your business.” She spun on her heel, motioning us to follow as if she hadn’t just scorched him. If anything, he liked it. He just laughed, delighted by the slap-down, trailing after her like she’d given him exactly what he wanted. Maybe she had. That bite… that was Utahime. And that kind of spark… that is what idiots like him feed on.
That was their first exchange. Their first argument. And, somehow, the start of whatever this became.
Maybe that’s the difference. Utahime wasn’t neutral. She didn’t answer with… detachment. Or indifference. She gave him annoyance, irritation… color. She was more combustible. That wasn’t my nature.
She was the quiet glitch in his script. A teacher’s pet, a scold. Not beautiful like a siren, but sharp, and stubborn. That was probably what fascinated him.
Gojo was drawn to her from the start, and maybe I never cared enough to see it. Or maybe… he did like me for half a second but Suguru had already pulled me in.
I blinked and saw it all again. Everything in a new light. The fireworks bursting like wounds in the sky. Balloons floating like severed heads.
It had that strange hush, like in those zombie movies. The way they stop for a second to watch the colors overhead, dumbstruck by beauty they don’t understand. Faces slack, alive for once, but only because they forgot what they were.
That’s what it felt like, watching them. Gojo and my favorite senpai, caught in their own orbit.
I saw it, and for a breath, it almost looked holy. And then the noise rushed back in. The crowd. The sugar stink. The ache that never quite leaves your chest.
They looked like the start of something. They kissed once, and built a new world. Gojo got his girlfriend tonight. Suguru and I stayed what we were. Friends, with benefits. We had made peace with that.
Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, they say. A carnival. A curse. I left with a souvenir I didn’t want. A proof that this pang doesn’t need a name to hurt. It’s the kind that makes you feel small, even when you know better.
The train hummed like a dying insect, dragging us back home under fluorescent lights that flickered jaundiced yellow. The four of us squeezed into a row of seats, damp jackets and plastic bags pressed at our ankles, crammed with glossy proof of Gojo’s obsession: Utahime’s scowls, Utahime’s frowns, Utahime caught forever.
Utahime was incandescent. Not in the figurative way. Literally, like the neon and the fireworks had burned themselves into her cheeks, left her flushed and bright-eyed. She leaned across Suguru toward me, tugging at my sleeve with sudden insistence.
“Mind if I steal Shoko for a moment?” Her hand was firm, possessive.
Suguru raised an eyebrow, smirking. He slid aside without argument. “She’s all yours.”
Gojo immediately flailed, arms spreading wide like he could block the entire train aisle.
“Wait, wait, wait! That’s my girlfriend. Shouldn’t I sit next to her?”
Girlfriend. The word hissed in my ears, it sounded stupid. The meaning, wasn’t. It’s like a claim. Territory. Something I didn’t have with Suguru. Not what I was to him.
Utahime rolled her eyes, but her mouth tugged into a smile she couldn’t quite hide. She sat down beside me. “Because I called dibs,” she said plainly.
She leaned close, wide-eyed and conspiratorial. Her voice carried a half-giddy laugh, like she couldn’t quite believe her own words.
“Crazy, isn’t it? Me… with him.”
Gojo beamed, maniacal sun, drunk on his own victory. “You heard her! It’s official!”
Suguru chuckled. “Don’t trip over yourselves too soon.”
Then, after a beat, her smile faltered. She gave me a look, half daring me to challenge her, half betraying the nervous flutter underneath. Then her voice came quick, softer, like a secret she wasn’t sure she should speak.
“Tell me I’m not making a mistake.” She searched my face like she needed me to anchor her.
I bare my teeth with a crooked smirk I didn’t feel. “Guess miracles really do happen. I’ll drink to that… if Gojo’s paying.”
Gojo pretended to be wounded. “Ruthless! Are you doubting us?”
“Not when it’s you,” I deadpanned.
They laughed. Suguru shook his head. Utahime leaned against my arm, still glowing with that first-love heat.
And I sat there, staring at the dark blur of the city outside the window, wondering…
Is it still possible to be happy for someone, genuinely, even when you feel that small, sharp sting in your own chest?
The hum of the train swallowed the question.
I didn’t know. But I tried.