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Gojo Satoru was the top of the world.
He knew how arrogant that made him, and he didn't care. Fifteen-years old and he was finally free of his family's attempts to reign him in; he was a student at Jujutsu Tech and he answered to no one.
Well, that wasn't quite true. He knew he had to answer to his senseis. He was supposed to answer to his senpais. But Gojo Satoru knew he could flex his freedom, push boundaries, and he did so without a care. No matter whether his stuffy senpai, Utahime, would yell at him. Satoru didn't care.
He took each freedom given to him and enjoyed it. He and his friends would escape the school to go explore Tokyo after classes. He would hang out where other teenagers—civilian ones—and linger, taste a hint of their strange and different world of normality.
He had so much confidence that it was easy enough to push into those spaces, even though he stood out as different. His stark white hair, his strange eyes that he always hid behind sunglasses. He played those off and the kids flocked to him, whether he was at the arcades or skate park or dessert shops.
"Come on, let's play a round," one of the guys said. Satoru had already forgotten his name, even though he'd definitely hung out with him last week.
"Eh, we could shoot some hoops," he conceded.
One of the others flexed. "Great way to pick up girls, y'know."
Satoru laughed along with the rest, a sliver of discomfort trickling in. He didn't have much experience with any of that—dating, romance stuff. All he knew about it was what he'd seen on television.
"Hey, Gojo, do you have a girlfriend?"
Satoru shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"C'mon, you don't?" One of the older guys smirked. Satoru bristled. There was a condescension in his tone that he didn't like.
"What's it to you, huh? You gonna steal my girl?" he challenged.
"Maybe I will, if you can't give her a good time. What's her name?"
"Iori Utahime." The words left his mouth before he had even properly thought about it. His cheeks felt suddenly warm, and he strode on.
"You've got it bad!" the first guy laughed, catching up to him and shoving him playfully in the shoulder. "Come on, show us a picture."
He should have refused. But he'd never felt this strange kind of pressure; the urge to measure up, to show he was just as good as them, just as experienced. He opened his phone. He'd snuck a picture of Utahime, planning on using it later as blackmail. She'd fallen during their sparring training, and her face was covered in dirt.
"Dude, no wonder you didn't want to talk about her. What a mess," the older kid taunted.
Between one blink and the next, Satoru had him up against the wall, his hand grinding into his throat.
"You keep your mouth shut about her," he hissed. Choking, face going purple, the kid nodded. Satoru suddenly didn't feel like playing basketball any longer. He dropped the kid, took in the shocked faces of the other civilians and ran.
The next time he came across Utahime, he made an idiot of himself, too embarrassed at how he'd lied to the civilians about her.
That didn't quite stop him from sneaking a normal picture of her—one where she looked quite pretty, sitting and reading under the cherry blossoms. The kids didn't make fun of him for that one.
Iori Utahime had been brought up to be proper, well-behaved. She'd joined a group of girls who had undergone rigorous training and had to follow all the rules for her miko training. She'd inwardly rebelled at much of it, but only when she found her teachers annoying or ridiculous. For the most part, she stayed under rigid self-control. She knew the importance of tradition, and she was smart enough to realize when following the rules meant a better outcome.
She only started acting out during high school.
Gojo Satoru was a menace. A fifteen-year old brat who never followed the rules. Utahime almost instantly disliked him. He represented everything that she didn't like about the system she followed so rigorously. Enormous power, simply because he was born with it, yet no respect for authority or tradition. In five seconds flat, he could prompt her to break every one of her own rules
There was no escaping him, however. Reluctantly, Utahime realized that even though he drove her insane, she did consider him a friend by the time she had graduated.
She never quite knew what she was to him. A friend? Possibly. Some days, he would talk and talk and talk her ear off while she pretended not to listen, telling her all sorts of things she probably wasn't supposed to know. Other days, he would blow her off when she asked for help, or tease her so relentlessly that she nearly cried.
So it was possible insanity, or perhaps distraction, that made her blurt out the last possible name she should have said.
"G-Gojo!"
The visiting sorcerer stopped moving. He had been making moves on her all night, and Utahime had been politely trying to put him off. He was a grade one, visiting from Hokkaido. Gakuganji had put her in charge of entertaining him, and she'd been eager to comply; she desperately wanted a promotion.
Not so desperate that she was willing to hop into a visiting sorcerer's bed, however.
"Gojo. As in Gojo Satoru," he said slowly.
"Y-yes." Utahime took a gulp of her drink, hoping the burn and cough she gave would cover up her lie.
The sorcerer's expression turned a little sly. "Sure you're not just playing hard-to-get, sweetheart?"
"I'm not," she said coldly. "We've been dating for ages. We went to school together, you know."
"You're telling me that the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, has been dating a weak little thing like you?" The sorcerer's true colors were finally shining forth. "I don't think so. Maybe come up with a less impressive lie, next time."
Utahime flipped open her phone and dialed Gojo.
In two seconds flat, he had appeared at her side.
"Utahimeeee."
She needed him to shut his mouth. She lunged towards him, wrapping her arms around him. She felt the momentary barrier, but it quickly disappeared.
"Satoru," she said. His whole body stiffened. "Missed you."
She felt him prepare to speak—possibly crow over how drunk she was—so she continued as quick as possible. "This is . . . oh, I'm so so sorry, I've forgotten your name."
The sorcerer's face was tight and uncomfortable. He murmured an introduction, bowing to Gojo before making a swift exit. Once Utahime saw he was far enough away, she shoved Gojo away with a groan.
"What was that all about?"
The first flush of embarrassment now struck. Utahime swallowed, unsteadily. "Uh, nothing, he was just a creep. I was hoping you would show up if I called."
Gojo puffed out his chest. "Lucky for you, I'm such a swell guy, huh?"
More fondly than she meant to, Utahime smiled at him. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, swell guy. I owe you a drink."
"How 'bout some ice cream instead?"
"Yeah, whatever."
Satoru tugged at his obi fruitlessly. He hated dressing up in all this traditional crap. He was being shown off and paraded and he hated it.
He caught sight of someone who didn't hate it, and found himself grinning. Perfect. Entertainment.
Before he was able to take a step, he was intercepted by some old, crotchety man.
"Gojo Satoru," he intoned. "You have come very far."
"Uh huh," Gojo said. He took a step to the side. "Just gotta—"
"We need to talk about your duties to the clan in providing an heir."
He threw up a little in his mouth. "Not interested."
"You do not have a choice."
"I'm barely 18 and you—"
"Gojo!" Utahime came out of nowhere and went to grab his hand. Gojo quickly dropped his Infinity, grinning at her.
"Please tell me you found the food at this horrible event!"
"Come on, come on." She impatiently tugged him away. It wasn't at all like her. He thought she'd be avoiding him and he'd get to have fun hunting her down and trying to make her crack in front of all these stuffy old people.
"What's wrong?"
To his surprise, she cast a scowl back over her shoulder at the older man. "They're trying to sell you off, tonight," she said.
"Sell . . ."
"Promise you in marriage," she enunciated. "To another clan. To make babies with some poor girl who won't have a choice."
Satoru clenched his hands. He'd forgotten one of them was still holding Utahime's, and she yelped. "Sorry," he muttered. "This is stupid."
"I know." Utahime's lip was curled. Satoru had only ever seen it that way towards him. It was strangely satisfying to see it directed outwards. "It's sick."
"What should I do?"
Utahime looked up at him, startled. He couldn't quite understand why, and cocked his head at her questioningly. She looked down, and then back up.
"You don't look half bad in a kimono," she said.
He stuck his tongue out at her and she giggled.
"I'm not sure the best way to put them off," she murmured, glancing around. "Aside from making some grand declaration—"
"I can do that!"
She rolled her eyes. "Without offending half the clans?"
He grinned widely.
"Come on, it'll be fun! Next one that approaches, I'll completely lose it on them."
"Bad idea."
"Great idea," he countered.
"Look, food!"
He recognized a distraction technique when he saw one, but submitted happily. Usually, he had the most fun with Utahime when he was antagonizing her; today, it seemed that was not necessary for a good time. For some reason, no one else approached him, and he got to giggle with Utahime in the corner for the rest of the night, mocking the clans.
She woke up to a pain like she'd never felt before. Utahime barely caught the scream in her throat before it escaped—too much cursed energy was curled up in her voice, ready to be let free, but she could also feel how depleted she was. If she used it at the wrong time, she would die.
She was no longer in the ruins of a shrine. Utahime ground her teeth down, breathing rapidly through her nose. She was in a . . . room.
"Oh, you're awake!" A woman in scrubs leaned over her. "Are you in a lot of pain? On a scale from one to ten, is—"
Utahime did not dare open her mouth. She nodded jerkily.
"That means she's in a lot of pain."
At the familiar voice, Utahime flinched. She turned to find Gojo sitting beside her bed, bare feet irreverently propped up against her hip.
"Get her pain meds," he demanded arrogantly.
"Gojo," she hissed, "don't be rude." She tried to frown at him, but it made a horrible, deep pain flare up. Her eyes rolled back, and everything went rather dim for a moment.
Her vision cleared and Gojo's face was hovering over her.
"She's giving you the pain meds now, just try not to move your face."
"My face," she mumbled. She remembered what had happened. Slowly, she lifted a hand up. Thick bandages met her wandering fingertips. Gojo gently grasped her hand before she could cause more damage.
"Shoko's been along. Did . . ." here, Gojo fell silent as the nurse bustled close once more.
"Your husband is such a good man," she said approvingly. "You keep taking good care of her, now won't you?"
Utahime opened her mouth but was startled silent as Gojo suddenly kissed her. Not quite on the lips, mostly on her cheek beneath the itch of bandages, but close enough that her mind went blank.
The nurse left, and Utahime was able to finally function again. "What was that—I didn't say you could kiss me!"
"I had to lie," he hissed. "You were about to blow my cover."
She folded her arms across her chest, groaning slightly as her body ached with the movement. "Really," she said doubtfully. "You needed to say we were married?"
"Of course! They wouldn't let me visit. Had to make sure a weakling like yourself wouldn't go on and die out of nowhere."
"I'm not weak," she said. Her breath caught on the lie. Lying broken in a hospital bed, it was hard to tell herself that lie.
"Course you aren't. You survived two grade ones—even finished one of 'em off. I saw."
Utahime eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the punchline.
"You must be thirsty," was all he said. "Here."
A cup with a straw was provided. Utahime hadn't realized she was so thirsty and drank eagerly until Gojo took it away from her.
"Down, girl, you're gonna make yourself sick." There was something in the way he was looking at her that made Utahime feel warm and oddly . . . content. She settled back on her pillows.
"Y'gonna stay?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'll fight off your nightmares. I am the Strongest, afterall!"
"Dork," she mumbled, already slipping away.
"This won't be possible."
Satoru sighed, kicking his feet up. "I pay you, don't I? Make it work."
"Adoption isn't simply signing a dotted line and paying a bunch of money," she said severely. "There is a responsibility to make sure these children will go to a healthy home. Signing them off to a nineteen-year old with minimal support system will not do."
He tugged at his bandages. Utahime had blessed them last week, and they needed some freshening up. "What if I got some friends to sign on as a support system?"
"They can add some testimonies. But friendships are not reciprocal—it wouldn't be enough proof."
"What about a long-term relationship?"
His attorney looked up. "Oh? You didn't mention anyone before."
He shrugged. "Didn't think it was important."
She let out the sigh of someone who had dealt with him far too often. "Gojo, please, take this seriously if you want the Fushiguro kids not to end up back in the system."
He pressed out a flat smile. "Iori Utahime."
His attorney did not argue the point, to Gojo's surprise. She probably knew Utahime's name, given her experience in the sorceror community, but he had expected a protest about Utahime being his girlfriend. "I'll contact her soon. You may need to formalize your relationship to get this through."
"Yeah, yeah. Bye." Gojo teleported away, and immediately pulled out his phone.
He grinned the moment he heard her annoyed voice. "What trouble are you in now?"
"Utahime! Say, mind signing some papers for me?"
"Yeah, whatever. Don't get me in trouble."
"Never, promise! What are you doing right now? I'm hungry."
"I could eat."
"Excellent. I'll come get you!"
The older Utahime had become, the more she had grown to despise the system she inadvertently supported.
The old traditions, everything she had been taught as a child—though there were some elements that she still whole-heartedly endorsed, so much of it had become corrupted by old men desiring power.
Utahime did not have power to break the system herself. She knew one who did, but she would not prevail on him with her agenda—he already had plenty of people doing that. His shoulders were broad, but she would not add more weight.
Instead, she focused on her teaching. To protect the youngest generation, to train them the right way—she hoped that someday, when she was long dead, her work would not have been in vain.
With all of that in mind, she did obey the system; showing up when summoned, but only to a certain degree. She knew her boundaries and her limits.
And she would not budge.
"Thank you, I must decline."
It was a line she said practically once a year. One of the downfalls of sorcery and why it desperately needed a change. It relied on bloodlines. Bloodlines were what mattered most.
Zenin Naoya looked her up and down. "Just as well. Old as you are, who knows what kind of issues you might have, bearing a child."
It took everything in Utahime not to slap him across the face. "I am sure some other girl will be a much better fit for you," she said through gritted teeth. "Thank you for your consideration."
"Considering what?" Gojo's loud voice was a welcome sound. Utahime relaxed, jaw unclenching as he came up behind her.
Zenin scowled, but immediately began backing away. "Have a pleasant evening."
"Nice to see some brats don't change," Gojo said. He rested one elbow on her head, as if he was using her as a leaning post. "I don't see how he's related to my Megs at all."
"Speaking of brats." She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "You've skipped the last few of these. What are you doing here?"
"Repaying a favor." He grinned down at her, eyes hidden by his blindfold. "Rumor has it the higher-ups are offering some possible bonuses or promotions for the sorcerer who can get into Utahime's bed."
Utahime closed her eyes, anger, shame, and red-hot embarrassment washing over her.
"Stop freaking out, U-ta-hi-me," Gojo sing-songed. "Remember when you saved little ol' me? What was I, sixteen?"
"Eighteen," she murmured.
"Let them come close. I'm not gonna move. And if any of them are brave enough, I'll challenge them to a fight."
Despite herself, she snorted out a laugh. Her mood still didn't improve much, watching the other sorcerers mill about, indiscreetely eyeing herself and Gojo next to her.
"Think they're right?" she murmured.
"Mmf?" Gojo had gotten busy at the buffet table, and currently was stuffing far too many dumplings into his mouth.
She jerked her head and turned to the door—the fancy hotel had a nice balcony which afforded a little more privacy.
Gojo swallowed noisily behind her. "What's all this fuss, huh? I've been standing here the whole time, are you wanting to finally escape the vultures?"
"No, I—" she hesitated. Her earlier wish to dump her thought on Gojo felt ridiculous. "Never mind."
"C'mon, tell me. You know you can't keep any secrets from me."
Utahime groaned, covering her face. "I'm old," she said, muffled by her fingers. "I'm old and they're right, if I don't marry soon, then there's no chance of having kids."
Gojo immediately, horrifyingly, shouted in laughter.
Utahime shrieked out her rage, trying to hit him. He dodged, laughing.
"You cannot be serious, Uta!"
"I am going to kill you!"
He grabbed her wrists, keeping her from slapping at him. "Come on, Utahime. I tease you for being older than me, but you're barely thirty! And you're telling me you wanna be a sorcerer's broodmare?"
"Just because I don't want to play by their rules doesn't mean I don't wanna be a mom." Utahime hated how her voice broke on the last word. She tried to tug herself away from Gojo's grip, but he didn't let her.
"I've got an idea," he said.
"Yeah, yeah, what?"
"What's the oldest you'd want to have a baby?"
Utahime blinked. "What? Like, my age?"
"Yeah."
"I dunno. Thirty-five. Thirty-eight?"
"Deal."
"Deal?"
"You put these vultures off with me, hunt for the right one. And I'll be your back-up."
Utahime stared at him. "Gojo."
"Uta," he mocked her higher voice.
"Y-you're serious?"
"You're great with Megs. I'd trust you with my baby."
"You're crazy," she breathed.
"Uh huh! It's my defining characteristic!"
She tugged again and he released her. "Crazy," she said again, but she already knew she was bending. "Don't you dare tell anyone about this. Or tonight at all. It's embarrassing enough they're trying to sell me off."
"Hey, fair's fair. You never told on me. Imagine how Geto would have made fun of me!"
It said much, that Gojo could finally say his name without flinching. Utahime smiled fondly at him, cuffing him on the shoulder. "Alright, we're even."
Mission: success.
Satoru looked around, grinning at the happy gaggle of his kids. Well, his kids and Utahime's. While obviously Satoru's team had won, all the kids seemed to have a good time with it, and that was what mattered most.
Even Utahime had let up on her scowl from earlier in the day and was smiling around at them all, dusting them off like a proud mother.
"Sensei! Can we get ice cream?"
"Ice cream for everybody!" he said. He tossed Megumi his black card. "Go nuts, kids!"
They all cheered wildly. He caught sight of Utahime rolling her eyes, but even she couldn't hide her smile.
"Are you coming with us, sensei?"
"Eh," he said, rather aimlessly. He was supposed to report back to Yaga about the event, then probably the higher-ups, but he was planning on staying true to form and blowing them off. He probably should make sure the kids behaved themselves as civilians in public.
"You idiot, Itadori," Nobara said scathingly. "Of course he isn't, he'll take Utahime-sensei on a date somewhere. They don't wanna hang around us all day."
It took a second for her words to absorb. He even shook his head a little. "I, uh, what?"
Panda laughed, his strange echoey laugh. "Your face, sensei."
He snapped his mouth closed. He tried to regain control of the situation, but it was already too late. Half of the kids were shouting about how they didn't know they were dating, how long had they been going out, if they were so old, why weren't they married yet? The other half was rolling their eyes, saying that they had obviously been dating for years, and that they couldn't get married because they were coworkers so they would get in trouble.
"Enough!" he shouted. "Kids, relax. We are not dating, and we certainly are not married. Can everyone calm down now?" He thought about looking over to see what Utahime was thinking, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.
"It's okay, sensei," he heard Todo say loudly to Utahime. "You can do better than him."
"Megumi!" Nobara shouted. "You would know! You said you saw Utahime-sensei last week because she visits you! Isn't that because she's dating Gojo-sensei?"
Megumi shrugged. Satoru grabbed onto it like a lifeline.
"Megumi! Tell them all and then we can stop blabbering about this. We are—"
"Yeah," Megumi said. "They've been dating for years."
At that, Satoru finally looked over at Utahime. She was bright red, covering her face with her hands. For a moment, Satoru felt his stomach drop. Was she crying?
Suddenly, he realized she was shaking—not because she was sobbing—but with laughter.
"Oh, this is funny, is it?" he demanded. "You started this rumor with your students?"
"Me?!?" She lifted her face, still bright red, and scowled at him. "As if! I would rather date a slug!"
Satoru huffed and crossed his arm. "You would not. Slugs are gross."
"You immature little—"
"—but you love him."
Both Satoru and Utahime gaped at Mai. Her unamused glare met them in return.
"Don't deny it," she said. "It's so obvious."
Satoru was very, very mad that he'd put his sunglasses on instead of his blindfold. They were steaming up from how hot his face was turning. "You don't know anything," he said, but it was a weak denial.
"Prove it!" Nobara said. "If you don't love each other, then kiss each other."
There was another uproar. Satoru could not look directly at Utahime.
—"that won't prove anything"—"ew, I don't want to see them kissing"—"wait, does this mean we don't get ice cream?"—
"Kids, please!" Utahime clapped her hands, and the Kyoto kids instantly fell silent, Satoru noted with grudging admiration. "Now, there's been enough going on today, why don't we just—"
Nobara was never one to obey her superiors. She pointed at Utahime. "You kiss him, and show us you don't love him! Then we'll believe you."
Utahime looked at him. Satoru stared back. The kids silently separated, creating an obvious path between the two of them.
"If we kiss," she said slowly. "You'll drop all of this?"
The kids murmured agreement. Satoru stared as she took a few steps towards him.
She stopped, waiting for him to join her.
"This—" he said weakly, "—this is ridiculous."
He heard Megumi snort behind him. Almost subvocally, a whisper of "coward" from one of the kids.
He took a few more steps.
What was one kiss, afterall? Utahime was one of his best friends. He'd even pretended that they were dating or married before.
She stared up at him, defiant under the baseball cap he'd bought for her.
He tipped it off her head with a grin. Her bangs were mussed around her face. She was red-faced and sweaty and angry, and suddenly Satoru wanted to kiss her more than anything. "Rusty, senpai?"
"Don't start," she spat. "Go on, disappoint me."
He heard someone stage-whisper, "how cute!"
In all the time he'd teased Utahime, messed with her, pulled on her pigtails, he'd never attempted to kiss her properly. Now, his lips were on hers and he was a lost man.
He had meant to peck her on the lips and then laugh at the kids for being ridiculous. Somehow, his hands were touching her, one slipping up her face to thumb at her cheek and the edge of her scar, and he was kissing her deeply, leaning down until even with their height difference she was bending backwards, nearly off balance except for his other arm around her waist.
And she . . . she wasn't pushing him away, yelling at him. Satoru distinctly felt her gasp against his mouth when he managed to sneak in a bite at her lip.
"Gross!" Nobara shouted. Satoru looked up to glare at her.
"You're the one who wanted us to kiss!"
"That's not kissing, that's making out! Let's get ice cream and leave them, they're nasty!"
Utahime was shaking. Satoru looked down to find her once more covering her face, giggling uncontrollably.
"They're talking about you as well, not just me," he reminded her.
"Not that," she said, in-between hiccupped giggles. "I just can't believe it."
"What," he said, stuck trying to work out whether he was buoyantly happy or mildly offended. "Do I kiss that poorly?"
"I can't believe I've been in love with you all this time," she said. "And the students figured it out first."
Satoru could have melted into a puddle and he would not have been surprised. "Ditto," he said. He bent his head to hers once more. He kissed her jaw, her scar, her forehead. "Shall we make it official? Go get a cemetery plot together?"
"I—what?"
"We've done it backwards for so many years. Figure we should get that nailed down before the wedding."
"Maybe," she said prudently, "we should go on a date."
"Ah, yes. You'll have to pay, though, I just lost my credit card."
She sighed dramatically. "Oh, to have such a cheap boyfriend. I truly am at the bottom of the barrel."
Satoru clicked his tongue. "No, no, I don't like that. Boyfriend isn't right. I think husband'll do."
"Missing a few steps, aren't we?" she said drily. She plucked her baseball cap off the ground and settled it back on her head.
Satoru scooped her into his arms. "You're right," he said. "C'mon, let's go get married for our first date."