Archive of Our Own

Utahime stumbled against the doorway, panting. She glanced behind her, scanning the road. The dark, lantern-lit alleyway showed no sign of pursuit. Slipping inside, she finally was able to catch her breath.

The room was empty and silent. Utahime briefly sat down at the table, before that felt like not enough. 

She paced briefly, before finding herself hiding back in the darkest recesses of the room, pressed against the wall. Had she done everything to keep herself safe? How long did she have?

Gojo appeared amidst the room. Utahime bit down a scream, her fingers curling into claws.

“Did they see you?” he demanded.

“No, no, no.” She glanced towards the door. “I swear they didn't.” 

“Well, they can’t have followed me.” Gojo prowled around the room, checking the windows and doors. “If anyone put us in danger, it’s you.”

“Throw me out then, if you don’t want me hanging around,” she snarled. 

He didn’t respond, just finished his inspection. “You should sleep.” 

“You should eat,” she countered. 

“I’m not going to leave you again,” he said. "We should stick together." 

Utahime turned back to the room, going to the small kitchenette. “No need for you to leave. There’s at least some things here, I can make a little soup.”

“Do we have time?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll try.” 

Utahime’s haste made it so that she burned her fingers, not just once but three times. 

“Eat, quickly.” She brought it over to the table. 

“You didn’t make enough.”

“I’m not hungry.” She watched him eat, a little part of her eased by seeing him fed. 

“If you aren’t hungry, then sleep. You have to be exhausted, we’ve been at it for days.”

“Right.” Utahime went to the bed. She briefly considered taking off her boots, but did not. She winced, gingerly placing her heels on the cover. 

She stared up at the ceiling.

The urge to run was too strong. What if they knew? What if they had followed her?

She sat up. “Gojo—“

“Hush, Utahime.” He walked over to her. “I’m on watch. If I need, I can teleport us away.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “I thought you hadn’t figured that out yet.”

He smirked. “Don’t you trust me, Uta?”

“No,” she said. 

He saw right through her. Utahime could see it in his grin. “What’s a toe, eh Uta? That’s all I’ve ever lost!”

To her surprise, joking with him had finally relaxed her. She felt exhaustion pulling at her limbs.

“Don’t mess around,” she warned him sleepily. “They’re after us.”

“I know, I know.” He draped his jacket over her. “Sleep.”

She slept, but not for long. Gojo woke her up with an urgent shake of her shoulders. “We need to go.”

She shoved the jacket at him, quickly making for the door, remembering just in time to grab her bag.

“No time, Uta! Come on, hold onto me.”

Utahime would have normally protested, perhaps yelled at him. For once, she didn’t argue, wrapping her arms around his skinny waist. She felt safer the moment his long arms secured around her shoulders. 

Being teleported was a strange sensation—it was like being tossed over by a strong wave. 

“Easy, Uta. Open your eyes.”

She shook her head, keeping her face pressed against his jacket. It smelled of him. 

“Come on, silly girl. Look around.”

She finally did so, and took a deep breath when she did. Gojo had brought them to the mountains. Down in the valley she could see a city, but they seemed to be in a remote area.

“We should have a few days to catch our breath. Tell me I did good, Uta.”

“Did well,” she corrected absently. She frowned at the ryokan behind them. “Gojo, this is staffed, isn’t it? What if—“

“They have no way of knowing who we are or reporting us. Or even knowing who to report us to. There’s barely any phone signal up here. My parents took me, Geto, and Shoko here one time. You’d just graduated or you would’ve joined us.”

“Huh.” Utahime tried to straighten out her traditional clothes, now stained and travel-worn. “Won’t we look suspicious?”

“I always look suspicious—“ he pointed at his bandaged eyes, “—and I do fine.”

“Alright, alright.” She nervously began rebraiding her pigtails. “Do we use our names?”

“Stop worrying, Uta, you’re such an old lady.” Gojo seized her hand, dragging her into the ryokan. 

“Room for two,” he demanded, with all the arrogance of a young man who had always gotten his way. Utahime tried for an apologetic smile.

The old woman at the desk smiled kindly at the two of them. “Honeymoon?” She asked.

Utahime opened her mouth to refute her, but Gojo stomped on her toes. “Yes,” he said happily. 

“Of course.” They took care of the details. Gojo must have stopped at an ATM at some point, because he had plenty of ready cash. Utahime focused on looking around, finding her exits. Gojo had been right, there were no signs of things that could put them at risk—minimal electronics or even signs of the outside world. There were a few old magazines on the counter from ten years prior. 

“This way!”

“Gojo,” she hissed, following the grip he had on her hand. “Are you sure it's safe?”

“I am always sure,” he said, grinning. 

“So sorry about your eyes, dear. The lights are there, so you can dim them and they won’t hurt.” 

“Thank you so much!" 

And thus Utahime found herself in a room with one large futon and Gojo Satoru. 

“I call the onsen first!” Gojo peeled off his jacket and shirt immediately. Utahime yelped, covering her eyes. 

“Gojo, what if they show up? You won’t be ready to leave.”

“And I told you, Uta, that there’s no way they find us that quick.” 

She heard the door to the balcony slide open, and the splashing sounds of Gojo rinsing himself off.

“I’m gonna die because of this idiot,” she whispered to herself. 

Her nerves wouldn’t let her quite settle. She arranged the provided toiletries, pulled out the provided yukatas. She could not remember the last time she’d washed her kosode and hakama. Perhaps the ryokan owners would let her borrow some laundry soap. 

“Utahime!”

His call was unexpected. Utahime’s heart rate immediately doubled, and she ran out onto the balcony.

She did not find Gojo in any distress. He was sitting happily in the onsen. 

“What, Gojo?”

“Come join me!”

She scowled at him. “We are not some trash romance movie, Gojo. We are running for our lives.”

“What’s the point in living if you don’t have any fun, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t talk to me about that, Mr. Workaholic.” 

Gojo threw his head back and laughed. Utahime smiled—and then looked out over the mountain landscape. It felt private and safe, but still her eyes searched. 

So caught up in her vigilance, she didn’t even realize when Gojo had emerged from the onsen. She yelped as he wrapped wet arms around her, his hair dipping down onto her as he lowered his face next to her. “Relax, Utahime. I promise, I’m still looking out for us. We’ll be okay.”

“If you’re naked, I will cut off whatever parts that might be touching me," she snapped. 

“I have a towel on! Now, hurry up and enjoy the bath. I’ll get them to bring us a good dinner.”

A mountain getaway, a private onsen, a traditional dinner that Utahime didn’t have to cook herself? Under normal circumstances, it would have been a dream come true.

Her dreams didn’t usually include Gojo—except on a rare occasion. Utahime blushed at the thought, getting out of the onsen and wrapping up in the yukata.

“You look better,” Gojo said as she entered. “Come on, eat up.”

Utahime glanced at the door, frowning when she saw Gojo had left it unlocked. “That isn’t safe,” she admonished, getting up to lock it herself.

“Fine, fine. Come on, eat quickly. We need to get as much sleep as possible.”

Normally, Utahime would have taken her time eating, but she could hardly enjoy the delicious food. They had to be ready to leave in an instant if needed. 

“We’ve got to sleep, Utahime.”

“No. I slept before. You sleep.”

“What if we need to fight tomorrow? You’ll collapse!”

She shook her head. “It’s not safe,” she insisted.

“Compromise.” Gojo snuggled into the futon, looking up at her and lifting the blanket up. “I keep my Infinity up. It’ll protect us.”

Utahime raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Both of us? How?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Well, you'll need to be touching me at all times.”

Her face felt hot—she just knew she was blushing a bright red. “Don’t be disrespectful!” she demanded.

“I’m just being practical. Take it or leave It.”

Utahime hesitated, but exhaustion won out. She slid in next to him. He smelled clean and fresh, and perhaps for the first time since she’d met the underclassman, she directly acknowledged the strong shiver of attraction she felt in touching him. It had always been so easy to hide it under how annoying he could be. 

“Come on, Uta. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

“Idiot,” she muttered. She curled up close, her face next to his, before her courage failed her. She turned around. 

“Little spoon,” he teased.

“Bite me,” she said. She could practically feel Gojo's smirk. "Don't even start."

The sensation of Infinity covering her was like a warm blanket—but one that had a hint of a charge, like static going over her skin. She shivered, and Gojo tugged her closer so that they were flush, his arm around her waist. 

“Sleep, Uta,” he murmured. She could hear the exhaustion leak into his voice as well. She didn’t argue anymore, focusing on settling her breathing. 

She woke up to a knock being rapped on the door. 

“I know the two of you are in there! You need to listen to me!”

Utahime sprang up. She went for her clothes, hurriedly yanking them on. Her backpack dug into her sore shoulders. 

“We’ve got to go,” she said. “They’ve found us.”

“Listen to me!” The voice came again. “Don’t leave! You’ve got to pay attention to me! You’re not in danger, not the way you think. It’s the curse! Focus on my voice, you know me! It’s—“

The voice became muffled. Utahime reached for Gojo as he reached for her. 

“Hang on,” he grit out. 

He teleported them away. Utahime choked on a sob, gripping tightly onto Gojo’s uniform. 

“They almost had us,” Gojo said. “I’m sorry, Uta, I shouldn’t have let us rest.”

“We needed it.” Utahime looked around the forest clearing. “Where did you take us?”

“Just a place I defeated a curse, once.” Gojo chuckled. “Your bed head is wild.”

“You’re one to talk.” She reached up—and up, he was so tall now—and ruffled his hair. 

"What now?" The two of them looked around. "Should we stand and fight them?"

Utahime shook her head. "You know they have that weapon."

"Weapon," Gojo repeated slowly. "Right."

"We could leave the country," Utahime said. The suggestion made her grimace. She didn't like the idea, though it did seem a necessary evil.

"If they've gone to all this trouble . . ." Gojo trailed off. He sank to the forest floor with a groan. Utahime heard the unfinished thought. There was nowhere they could run that they wouldn't follow.

"I promised Shoko I wouldn't use my RCT for basic needs," her companion muttered, "but I think I'm going to need to."

"How come you can't?" Utahime asked. 

"Cursed technique backlash, yadda yadda yadda, unhealthy for body, yadda yadda yadda. I dunno, she always fusses. I think she's just mad I don't rely on her to fix me up."

"Well, whatever you need to use, be careful, alright? You need to be on top form."

"Uh huh." Gojo pulled off his bandages. Even with the dark bags of exhaustion under his eyes, he suddenly looked so young at that moment. Utahime's heart clenched. It was all her fault, wasn't it? He wouldn't have been so vulnerable if it hadn't been for her.

With one quick gesture, he used a burst of cursed energy. 

Something changed, in that moment. He looked at her. 

"Utahime."

She tensed, feeling as if she was standing at a precipice, needing to jump. "What?"

"Something's wrong."

"We need to go?"

"No." Gojo shook his head. He held his hands out towards her. "I think we've gotten a little mixed up."

Something was different in his eyes. Utahime took a step back. "What are you talking about?"

"I need you to think really carefully, Uta. Why are we running?"

"They're after us." 

Gojo nodded slowly. "And who are 'they?'" 

Utahime frowned. "Why are you wasting time? If we need to go—"

"We don't. No one is after us."

She scoffed. "We need to go."

"No, Uta. We've been tricked. The cursed object you found, it's been messing with both of us."

Utahime looked around. The clearing still seemed empty, but it felt menacing. She took another step back.

"Come on, think through this. We'll go back to Tech, and—"

He reached for her, and Utahime ran. Somehow, they had twisted Gojo's mind and now she had to run from him too.

She had the element of surprise on her side. While they'd sparred plenty of times in the past, it had all mostly been verbal, or grappling over some silly thing, like if Gojo tried to steal her lunch or pen or mess with her hair. He'd never seen her run. She was fast. Fast and small and quiet. She disappeared into the forest. Still, out of anyone to be tracking her, it was truly unfortunate that it was Gojo. She wasn't sure how long she could last in a game of hide and seek against him.

Too much energy and adrenaline was wasted in flight. Utahime had no plan, no options. The moment she stopped, staring around her and trying to determine which way to go, Gojo teleported near her. She didn't wait for him to grab her or talk, just took off again.

Exhaustion became her greatest enemy. Utahime kept stumbling over roots, hitting her face on tree branches. 

Her foot caught on a rock. Utahime shrieked as she fell, her ankle wrenched horribly as she went. She scrambled to hide, but it was too late. Gojo was on her. 

"Easy, easy, Utahime. Don't fight me."

She didn't listen to him, clawing at him, twisting as he grabbed both her wrists in one large hand, using the other to grab her around the waist. 

She tried to knee him in the groin, but he quickly clamped both of his thighs around hers, immobilizing her. 

She was trapped.

Panic made Utahime nearly insensate. She half-screamed in her panic. She had to run, she had to move, they were coming, they would take, they would hurt—

Her vision began to go black at the edges.

"Breathe with me, Utahime. In, and out. In, and out."

She knew that voice. Trusted it. Utahime obeyed, breath rattling in her throat. Slowly, she felt her body settle. The grip on her was bruising, and she tugged half-heartedly against it. 

"You with me, Uta?"

Memory seeped back, but her body had exhausted her reserves, and she had no room to panic again. "Gojo," she said. "Let me go. We have to go, they'll—"

"Senpai," he said, startling her. He never called her that. "I know you're smart. You've got a bigger brain than me, unless you've been drinking. So I need you to focus. Why did you start running from me?"

"You were . . . they were coming, and you were stopping me," she said. 

"Think about that, senpai. Focus. Why would I put you in danger?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. "Th-they did something," she supplied, but her voice was weak. 

"How, Uta? Think very carefully. What did I do, right before you decided to run?"

"Healed yourself. Used your reverse cursed technique."

"That's right. I cleared something away. Healed something. Something that currently is still affecting you."

Her face was half-smushed in his chest as he lay on top of her. Utahime tried to look up at his face. "I'm not—we need to run, Gojo, we're in danger, I—"

"Think," he said. He shifted slightly, releasing her legs. Instinct told Utahime to kick, but she managed to quell the urge. "We've been running for days. Why would I run? I'm the Strongest, remember?"

"Th-the weapon."

"Your brain's coming up with answers to fake questions, Uta. I know it's hard, but I need you to fight it. Focus on what makes sense. When did this start?"

"Retrieving a cursed object," she said slowly. "Then—"

"We both touched it," he said. "Do you get it now? I've managed to clear it with my RCT but you're still feeling it. You still want to run, don't you?"

She nodded. 

"But you get it, right? All we have to do is get you to Shoko and she'll fix everything."

"Uh huh." She tried to take a deep breath, but half of Gojo's weight was still on top of her. "Can you, uh . . . I can't breathe."

"Right." He scrambled off of her. He was watching her closely, waiting to see if she would run. Utahime clawed down the instinct and focused on what she could control. Her ankle twinged, and she began the process of taking her boot off.

"Shoko will fix that up too, y'know," Gojo said. "Why not wait?"

"My shoe's holding it funny, it hurts a lot." She frowned down at it. "I hope I didn't break it."

"Let me see, you big baby."

Utahime waited until he was fiddling with her boot before shifting her backpack off. She reached inside, commenting lightly, "I think I have some wrap in here I can use."

What she pulled out was not medical tape. 

Had Gojo ever been tased before? Utahime wasn't sure. She grimaced regretfully at the grunt of pain as he went down. "Sorry," she whispered, and then she was gone, limping away. 

It took over a week to track her down. The instant Satoru had woken up, he'd tried to teleport the way he had been before—using her cursed energy. But she'd hidden it, and he was left scrambling to follow some broken branches from her haphazard escape before giving that up as impossible. 

He went first to Shoko, then to the cursed object, quickly confiscating it. Shoko feared that it could be infectious in nature—which meant he had to then backtrack to the ryokan where they'd stayed to make sure no one there had started going on the run. Somehow, they hadn't, which made Satoru think if it was transferrable, it was probably through touch. 

And then began the long search. Utahime was in a forest, an ancient forest that Satoru had once cleansed. The higher-ups refused to send anyone else for fear of further infection, so he was left on his own. 

For days, Satoru wandered through the forest, straining his eyes for any sight of Utahime's cursed energy. He had no idea she could hide it so well.

On the ninth day, he finally had a breakthrough. A few smaller curses lingered here and there—but there was a pattern of areas they had been fought and eliminated. Utahime had been busy. He tracked her down, finally stumbling across her. 

He saw her before she saw him. She was sitting against a tree. Her normally neat and clean outfit was dirt and blood-stained. She looked as worn down as he'd ever seen her, and any jokes he'd meant to crack at her expense died a swift death.

When was the last time she'd eaten? Properly slept?

He didn't mess around. He teleported in close, grabbing her in a wrestler's hold, and teleported her away to the prepared room. 

She screamed, flailed, tried to escape. Satoru grimly ignored her, going about tying her to the bed. 

The higher-ups had forbidden Shoko from getting close to Utahime. She wouldn't be able to help Utahime get rid of the curse, so Satoru would have to try and work through cleansing it with the slower tools on hand. 

"Let me go!"

"No," he said. He winced as Utahime kicked out and then shrieked in pain. Her ankle was obviously not fully healed. "Lie still. Look at me."

"No!"

"Right." It would have been easier if she believed him; easier if she trusted him. Satoru was accustomed to being untrusted. 

Just not by Utahime. 

He began part of the cleansing, using a few cursed object to build up some wards. The response was immediate. Utahime's thrashing calmed down. She stared up at him, before her eyes darted away. A dull flush brought some color to her sallow cheeks.  

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. You with me?"

She shuddered. "Y-yeah."

"Okay if I untie you? Or are you gonna attack me again?"

"I won't attack you." Her voice was dull. 

Satoru released her, hating how unnatural it was to see her subdued and almost . . . 

Embarrassed. She was embarrassed. 

"You survived in the freaking wild for nine days." He tugged her upright, a glass of water in the other hand. "Did you hunt animals? How did you do it?"

"Caught a rabbit," she mumbled. "Berries."

He whistled, low and impressed. "Bet Shoko would be fussing over you like crazy. She gave me these meds, said it'd tide you over til she gets a hold of you."

"How come she isn't—"

"We're quarantined. Whatever that nasty curse is, it could get passed on. The higher-ups won't let Shoko try for fear of risking her."

"Right." She shuddered, and Satoru realized that she had started shivering. "For how long?"

"Dunno, Shoko's gonna keep fighting to get in here. We'll see if she's successful. If needed, I can teleport her in here past all their dumb protections."

"Mmm. No, she shouldn't risk herself."

He reached for her forehead—Utahime twitched back. 

"You still feel like running," he realized.

"Shut up, Gojo. I'm trying," she snapped.

Normally he would have teased her to get more of that little angry scrunch of her face. But her eyes were too hollow for that. 

"Give yourself a break, senpai," he said quietly. "Just rest and recover." 

The last couple weeks were a blur. Utahime stared dazedly at the ceiling, trying to focus. The insistent fear was still tugging at her, telling her she needed to run, they were coming, she needed to run, run, run.

The rest of her was completely and utterly miserable. How embarrassing—to be so thoroughly taken in by a curse, and not even an active curse, but the remnant of something on an object. Utahime thought she was a professional. Now she was half-dead, skin and bones and with a fever on top of it all. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so miserable. Her belly was full of water and a small amount of broth, but she couldn't rest, her mind racing. 

"You're not sleeping," Gojo announced. 

Without warning, he was sitting on her bed. Utahime gaped up at him. She always forgot how big he’d gotten over the years, even though he took every opportunity to tease her about it. 

His giant paw was in her face. Utahime spluttered, trying to get away, but he managed to press his hand across her forehead. His Infinity was down, and that surprised her into forgetting to push his hand away. 

"Hey, shouldn't you have your barrier up?" she demanded. "You'll get re-cursed. Or infected, whatever this thing is."

"Eh, I'll just run my RCT if I start feeling the urge to escape with you."

She needed to get away from his knowing gaze and gentle smile. It wasn't like the Gojo she remembered from before this whole mess. 

She needed distance.

"Shower," she mumbled, pushing herself up onto her feet. Her sore ankle protested, but she hid it by grabbing onto the wall next to the bed. 

"I can help!" 

That was more like the Gojo she remembered. Utahime scowled at him. "Get away from me, you pervert." She slammed the bathroom door closed. 

Utahime didn't dare look at herself in the mirror as she stripped off. 

She had hoped a shower would give her more energy, but instead the hot water seemed to sap her reserves. Utahime stumbled back into the room, feeling dizzy again. She tugged the yukata that had been in the bathroom tighter around her, her bare legs feeling indecent. It helped that Gojo had on his blindfold so she couldn’t tell where he was looking. She needed her usual pajamas. 

“All yours,” she murmured. 

“You aren’t going to dry your hair?” he asked.

She half-shrugged. “Too tired.” She slid back into bed, shivering. The room felt cold after such a warm shower. 

Gojo stopped her before she was lying down all the way. 

“At least dry it off a little better,” he admonished. “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be a responsible adult?”

Utahime stared stupidly at him as he brought over a dry towel. Instead of throwing it in her face like she expected, he leaned over her. 

“Wha-what are you doing?” She asked.

“Drying your hair.”

True to his word, he did dry her hair—rather well. 

“Are you secretly a hairdresser in your spare time?” she said, half-muffled by the towel in her face.

“Spare time? Don’t make me laugh, Uta.” He released her head. “Where’s your brush?”

“I know what career you should have if you abandon sorcery.” She sighed at the sensation. “You’re really good at this.”

“Well, how do you think I have such magnificent hair, huh?” Gojo grasped her chin, tilting her head so he could reach the other side of her scalp. “You have nice hair too.”

“Mmm.” Utahime was half-asleep by the time she was done. The last thing she saw was Gojo, peeling off his blindfold and frowning down at her. 

The next time she woke it was to fire. She felt as if she was burning alive. A pathetic whimper caught in her throat. 

“Hey, hey, Uta.” Gojo’s wide blue eyes were glowing in the dark. It should have been freaky or strange, but she felt soothed by the sight of him. Gojo was there. Everything would be fine.

“So hot,” she panted. “Please, the window.”

“It’s not that, Uta, you’re burning up from fever. Shoko said to get you in the shower, c’mon.”

Utahime ground her teeth against a cry that was trying to escape as Gojo pulled her free of her twisted and damp sheets. “Y-you shouldn’t have Infinity down,” she said. “I-if the curse passes on . . .”

“I have my reverse cursed technique, Uta, remember? Don’t worry about me.” He lifted her up as if she was as light as a child. “Though I doubt that will save me from your wrath after this.”

“After what?” She wrapped her arms around Gojo’s neck as he maneuvered the two of them into the small bathroom. 

She found out ‘what’ when the water was turned on. Her resolution not to cry out failed her; she twisted in Gojo’s grip, trying to get away. The water felt horrible against her skin, like it was burning her in a different way.

“No, no, get me out, get me out!”

“Sorry, Uta, sorry. Hang in there, okay? I’ve got you.” 

She pressed her face into his shoulder, breath hitching. Her pain had slid into an urge to cry that had conquered her before she knew it. 

Gojo was making little noises, soothing sounds. Utahime wore herself out after a time, lying limp in his arms.

“Alright, I’ve got you.” Gojo brought her back out to the room, settling her on her bed, dripping and still in her clothes. “Now this is where you have to decide, Uta. Can you undress yourself?”

“Y-yes,” she said. 

He looked over her doubtfully, but turned his back.

“G-go away,” she demanded.

“I don’t think so. You get yourself dressed. I won’t look.”

She hissed under her breath. It was harder than it should have been, peeling the wet yukata off. She did not properly dry herself off, she knew that much. Somehow, there were new clothes ready and waiting for her—she didn't know when Gojo had gotten them. She barely managed to get her shorts on. Halfway through getting a new tank top on, she stumbled, and would have fallen except Gojo caught her.

“See,” he said smugly. His hands were warm on her bare abdomen. Utahime shivered violently. 

“Sh-shut up, idiot,” she grit out. 

“C’mere.” He made a pass over her arms and legs with the towel, then her hair, going much quicker than the last time. “You need to drink some water.”

Utahime obeyed. She felt too ill to be embarrassed about how Gojo had to keep an arm around her for her to remain upright. 

She made a move to go back to her bed.

“No, here.” Gojo guided her to the side. His bed. 

“Wha—huh. Where’re you gonna sleep?”

“Not gonna. Gotta keep an eye on my sick senpai.”

Utahime squinted up at him. “Gojo, no.”

“Gojo, yes.” He mimicked her tone. “Sleep, Uta.”

She tried to protest, but was quickly swallowed up by sleep.

The night seemed eternal. Her entire body ached. She was thirsty and hungry and exhausted. She felt like she’d been through a battle.

She turned her head to the side.

Gojo was slouched on a chair next to her, slumped over onto the bedspread. Utahime lifted a shaking hand, not entirely sure if she was seeing an apparition. Her fingertips met his hair. 

Instead of the usual gel, his hair was dried from sweat and greasy. She frowned. Had the fever taken him too?

He twitched under her hand, and without warning shot up. 

“Utahime! You’re awake again.”

"Feel like death," she croaked. 

"Think you've got the nice combo of fighting off a curse and a normal sickness. The curse seems nearly gone, pretty soon we'll get Shoko to fix you up."

She nodded. A large, gentle hand lifted her head, the other offering a glass of water. It hurt as the water passed her throat, but it was worth it for the simultaneous relief from her thirst.

"You still running a fever?" 

Using his hand—inaccurate as it should be—seemed to be his go-to. Utahime grunted as his palm covered half of her face. It was an annoyingly soothing sensation. She lost track of anything except how his thumb felt smoothing over her eyebrow. 

“Hey, there. You with me?” She nodded hazily up at him. “Good. We’ll get you back to normal in no time, okay? Why don’t you sleep now.”

“You sleep too,” she said. 

He shook his head. “Gotta make sure my senpai is okay.”

"At least for a little," she urged, tugging the blanket back. 

Something was in his face—a flash of emotion that Utahime could not fully categorize. 

“You sure?"

"Of course."

“Really?”

"You saved me," she murmured. "Thought I'd be on the run forever." 

His face was as focused as she'd ever seen it. Utahime didn’t move. One hand, then the other, framed her face.

“I'll always save you, Utahime. Do you promise not to leave me?”

She nodded. He shifted her over, sitting against the headboard. Any reservations Utahime might have had earlier were gone. She rolled onto her side, wrapping one arm around one of his knobby knees. “Wake me up if you feel sick too,” she mumbled.

His fingers combed through her hair. “Okay, Uta.”