Gojo had learned how to teleport at such an early age that it was as natural to him as jumping from one step to the next on a shallow flight of stairs.

When he wasn't drunk that was.

Teleporting when drunk was like going down a steep hill covered in ice. In the dark. And in his rather advanced state of drunkenness, it was like jumping off a high cliff into infinity. Blind.

This was going to be bumpy.

Darkness engulfed them. Utahime screeched and threw both her hands around his middle to hold on for dear life. Gojo's drunken brain took interest in her soft breasts pressing against his solar plexus just as his left hand went to the hollow of her back for assurance. Though once there, his drunken brain made him want to move the hand lower, to confirm a long held suspicion: that underneath her prissy traditional miko outfit, this woman was hiding a fine little body with a tight, round ass.

Uhm… hell no, he needed to concentrate.

There were stories about unskilled Jujutsu Sorcerers losing themselves in the Void, never to return. Of course, those were just stories, spread to scare away the weak from trying something above their skill levels - but he had to admit that for the briefest of moments, folding time and space took a bit of an effort. Cursed energy felt slippery like a fish and unsubstantial like smoke in his hand.

Okay, this was going to be very bumpy. But he was Gojo Satoru, the greatest Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world and there was nothing he could not do. Even when deplorably drunk.

They fell on his bed together - hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him briefly, a sharp pain piercing his skull when the Void receded and Matter sorted itself into place. He threw his free arm up to shield his eyes, but it wasn't enough to block out the sensory onslaught that hammered his senses like red-hot iron nails. He groaned. When had he lost his glasses?

On top of him, Utahime lay trembling, breathing much too fast. Her Cursed Energy wavered around her in fierce purple colors, lapping against his Infinity in painful intensity. He was just about to tell her to stop fretting, since everything was fine - of course it was, even though he normally took people on a smooth ride in a luxury limo while she had been treated to the Datsun 510 version on a potholed road - when she raised her head off his chest and started hitting him with hard little fists. Which was utterly pointless but he wisely refrained from telling her that.

"Don't - thump - Ever - thump - Do - thump - That - thump - AGAIN!" she screamed, "you imbecile!"

Then she scrambled off him, all hands and feet, sharp elbows and pointy knees, rolling off the bed in a flurry of disheveled glory. He had lost his glasses - she had lost her silly ribbon and now her hair stuck out in all directions, making her look like a slightly deranged hedgehog.

"Where are we?" she pressed out, turning around in a full circle in an attempt to take in her environment.

"My apartment", he murmured, his head hurting more by the minute.

"In TOKYO?! No. Oh no. No, no, no!" she whimpered, scrambling to switch on the light by the door.

"Turn that off!" he groaned but she had already bolted out of the bedroom, turning lights on all over the apartment. Each new source of brightness added to his agony. Gojo grabbed one of the pillows and covered his face with it.

He heard Utahime rush around his apartment, muttering little assurances to herself. "This cannot be happening" - "Yes, but I'm still alive, so it's not as bad as it could be" - "Didn't I know as soon as I saw that idiot that it would end in a disaster?" - "I cannot stand him! Urgh!" She wandered out of his hearing range, then came back murmuring, "Stay calm, stay calm, breathe, think." Then, a sharp intake of breath and the exclamation, "Oh, wow, that's amazing!" from the living room.

He smiled against his pillow. Yes, the view over Tokoy's vast sea of lights was spectacular. Not unlikely that it was snowing here too and it seemed she liked the snow? Maybe he could take her up to the rooftop garden later. He heard her footsteps draw closer, felt her presence before he saw her appear in the door, her Cursed Energy much more tightly controlled now.

"Do you live here all by yourself?" she asked, eying him with something that could be disapproval or interest, he wasn't sure. He removed the pillow from his face and carefully opened an eyelid to be able to see her better. Mistake.

"Yeah," he replied, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I don't like other people much."

"I have no money! My purse is in my coat!" She began pulling her hair. "And I left my phone on the table next to the onion rings!"

Yes, their departure had been a little hasty. But she didn't need money, he would bring her back later, directly to her place. Once he was able to use Reverse Cursed Technique to purge the poison from his bloodstream.

"I need to use the toilet," she sniffed.

"Just pick one you like," he grumbled, lifting the pillow over his head again. "There's one right here."

He heard her walk to the bathroom. The door closed… only to be ripped open again immediately. "This is your personal bathroom!" she yelled. "No way I will use that one!"

"Of course it's my personal bathroom," he didn't understand what she was so upset about, it was certainly clean, a charwoman came in every second day. Had he left underwear lying around?

She rushed out of the bedroom in search of another toilet. There were several, which, strangely, did not meet with her approval. Utahime was back to muttering to herself angrily, this time about the wasteful existence of rich spoiled brats. In the end, the call of nature was stronger than her displeasure though because she finally settled for the small one near the kitchen.

She didn't come out for a long time.

Maybe she was more badly shaken than she had let on, Gojo mused, one ear cocked in that direction. Was she crying? Being plunged into the Void with no warning tended to be a little scary. But she'd be fine - he knew Utahime to be made of stern stuff, for how else could she be immune to his charm that had all women fall at his feet eventually? Utahime Senpai - the only person at school who had not spared him a single look ever. Unless he got up in her face and annoyed the crap out of her.

The blood pounding in his head, Gojo started to breathe in and out deeply, trying to concentrate on his inner core, shifting attention away from the onslaught of details the Six Eyes fed him about the world around him.

"What's wrong with you?"

Utahime was back. She smelled faintly of his yuzu soap, the natural odor of her skin adding an appealing olfactory nuance to it.

"Nothing," he lied.

"I think I missed the last train back to Kyoto." She sounded just a little bit panicky about it. Pah, like her students would care if their first few lessons were cancelled. And ugly old Gakuganji would have to find somebody else to do his paperwork, the stingy geezer.

He shifted the pillow away to look at her. She had brought her long hair in order, it was damp and there were a few tiny curls around her ears. They looked very much like tiny curls he wanted to pull.

"No problem, I'll get you back as soon as…"

"No way I'm letting you teleport me again, freak!" Yes, definitely panicky. It made him want to explain himself.

"You see, it's normally much smoother, you blink and you're…"

"You are insufferable," she accused him loudly. "INSUFFERABLE!"

And she was very cute with her perky nose trembling in outrage, her lower lip stuck out like a petulant child and the color of her face heightened by her agitation.

"Turn off the light, please," he said, pressing his face into the pillow again, "I'll be fine in no time."

"So there is something wrong with you," she complied with his wish. The swirling colors dimmed a little when darkness fell around him. "Beyond just being shitface drunk. Do you want an aspirin?"

Like Gojo Satoru needed aspirin!

"... damnation, they're in my coat!" she blustered, "which isn't here!"

"I don't need aspirin. It's just… I get a little light sensitive sometimes."

"Because you got drunk? And here I was, thinking you were an adult and knew what you were doing. But obviously, looks deceive. Almost two meters tall but the brain of a child!"

She fell quiet, watching him from the door. If she knew the direction of his thoughts earlier, she'd take that right back. He should have felt her up when he had the chance, he thought with regret.

"Where do you keep your blindfolds? Would it help?"

It would. He would have gotten one himself as soon as he was able to move again.

"Top drawer," he murmured.

She located one quickly and stepped up to the bed with it. She must have taken off her shoes, the sound of her footsteps was soft on the tatami mats, soft and a little hesitant. She wasn't afraid of him, was she?

"Thank you," that was what one said to soothe others, but then she removed the pillow from his face and lifted his head with one hand, carefully draping a blindfold over his eyes and he got awfully distracted by how gentle she was. He wanted to say thank you again, but his tongue felt precariously clumsy for a moment so he just swallowed, wishing a little foolishly that she'd keep her hand on his head for a bit longer - it felt nice. But no, she stepped away, to hover at the door again. The pressure in his head lessened further thanks to the custom-made blindfold's effect.

"Then… I'll be going now?"

What? With no phone, no coat, and no money?

"Don't be ridiculous," he tried to move. Not yet. "Are you hungry? There's food in the fridge."

Why did she want to get away from him so desperately?

"Or you can play a game on the playstation if you're bored," he suggested.

Still no answer. Did she want to watch TV, perhaps? Or… was she more of a book kind of person? There were plenty of books in the library, maybe she had not seen them? And a huge collection of manga too.

"Who were those people?" she asked instead. "At the bar."

"Och, you know… people I didn't want to see," he answered, all nonchalance.

"Then why did you bolt like it was a life and death situation?"

Because it was a life and death situation - sort of.

Fitting that the phone he had deliberately left lying on the coffee table all day started buzzing at the very moment she started talking about those people. It was like they could hear him all the way from Kyoto.

"Your phone is ringing," she told him, though that was kind of obvious. "Could it be urgent? What if," she dropped her voice ominously, "it's an emergency?"

"It's not, the higher ups use a different phone to reach me," he said. "The people ringing me are people I want to leave me alone!"

He heard her soft footsteps recede. The buzzing stopped. Then, to his surprise, she said: "Yes?" A longish pause. "Who? Gojo Satoru? Never heard of him. No. No, this is not his phone." A pause again. "No, you're mistaken, Madame. Me? I'm Iori Utahime. Yes… I'm sorry, but I cannot help you. Yes. Give him a message? But… no, Madame, I told you I don't know who that is! Goodbye."

She tsked softly. He realized he was holding his breath when she appeared at his door again, her thin eyebrows raised questioningly. "Somebody claiming to be your aunt? She sounded rather riled up."

"You just lied to my aunt," Gojo observed, somewhat in awe.

"Yes," Utahime giggled, a sound that danced around in his chest for a moment, "but I doubt that it helped. She didn't believe me."

He could have hugged her for this act of defiance but he felt too much like shit. Of course his aunt had not believed her. His aunt was a master of emotional manipulation and sneaky deception. He shouldn't have come here. He should have gone straight to Europe. Or even better: to Hawaii.

Not unexpectedly, the phone in Utahime's hand began to buzz again demandingly.

"Just leave it," he murmured. "Throw it down the toilet."

"It's a different number," she observed.

That meant they were bringing out the heavy ordnance.

"Don't…"

"Yes?" But Utahime had already pressed the answer button. "Who is this?... You're looking for Gojo Satoru? Who is that? … You are his aunt?" She shrugged in his direction as if to say another one? How many have you got? Well, the answer was: a few. But he had a feeling he knew which one they had put on the phone this time. Had to be his favorite aunt. The one he didn't hate quite as much because she was most like his mother. "He… WHAT?" she gasped for air. "Oh. I see. Yes. No. Nooooooo, no, he's not here. Bye."

Silence.

"It's your birthday!?" she said in a small, quivering voice.

"Yeah, it's my birthday," he confirmed.

"Your twenty-seventh birthday," she groaned. "You… you HAVE to go see your family, Gojo!"

No.

He didn't have to do anything. He was Gojo Satoru and he would not dance to his clan members' tunes. Never. Ever.

###

There was much too much Gojo all around her. Yuzu and vanilla, slightly tart and slightly sweet, the air had soaked up his scent and now wrapped her in it. That was not all, wherever she turned, there was something so unmistakably him that she compulsively swiveled around and fled to the next room. And since there were plenty of rooms, her nomadic journey through his apartment had been going on for a while.

It was pacing at a grand scale: It was the biggest apartment she had ever been to. It probably wasn't even called 'apartment' anymore at this size. The view alone had to be worth at least 5 million Yen. There was a guest room, or rather, a whole guest wing - with keys on every door. Not that they would keep someone like Gojo out if he wanted in, but it had a soothing effect on her fried nerves. If worse came to worst and she had to stay the night, then she would be sleeping behind locked and bolted doors at least.

The half-empty box of XXL glow-in-the dark condoms in his bathroom had freaked her out. But much worse than this tell-tale sign of sexual activity was the memory of his long, hard body pressed against hers during the terrifying tumbling through the dark void. It was a memory that did not evoke revulsion as it should have. She was so greatly disturbed because it was the exact opposite: it made her lust for more.

No mistake about it, lusting for Gojo was the worst possible thing that could happen to a self-respecting woman. During their school days, it had not been a secret that Gojo was one of those male specimens who broke women's (and men's) hearts for sport. Getting people into his bed was the goal, kicking them out soon after the routine. They had still queued up, some even more than once. Just like addicts needing their next fix.

Utahime had eyes in her head, she got it: Gojo was insanely attractive. And if one wasn't easily swayed by looks alone, his charisma, the sheer power he emitted by just breathing, would surely get you. The problem was, he knew it. He had always been so full of himself, she had sometimes wondered why he didn't simply explode. So it wasn't only her father's warning about "that boy from the Gojo clan" she could never, ever associate with that had kept her resolutely out of his zone of influence. It was simple: The bigger the distance between her and him, the better she felt.

Which meant she did not feel good at all right now. Not only was she much too close to him, it was also his 27th birthday, and he was stubbornly hiding from his family. It was bad. bad.

"If he doesn't come back to the family shrine in Kyoto to perform his duty tonight", the second woman had sobbed on the phone, "the very worst will happen."

The very worst, she knew, was angering the ancestors by irreverence to such a degree that they decided to rise up and punish the entire Clan. If the vengeful spirits were still not satisfied after that, they would go on an extended rampage. Given that the Gojo Clan's ancestor was Michizane Sugawara, after whose death in the year 903 plague and drought had spread, the Imperial Palace's Great Audience Hall was struck repeatedly by lightning, and the city experienced weeks of rainstorms and floods with thousands of deaths, Utahime had immediately felt great sympathies for the distressed woman on the phone.

Her own 27th birthday almost three years ago had been a pleasurable, nice family event with yummy, home-cooked food and a few rounds of Daifugo. But then, she was a girl and not the eldest son and heir. Those had to conduct a ritual in front of the family shrine to renew the bond between the ancestors and the living and pray for guidance until the morning. 27th birthdays were important in the Jujutsu world because twenty-seven was three times three times three. Three paths, three realms, three bodily incarnations.

"I'm not doing it," Gojo had said when she had confronted him with the importance of the 27th just now.

"But you just need to kneel for a bit and pray!"

"I said I'm not doing it," his voice was decidedly turning more cold and hard, "I abhor stupid traditions and I sure won't pray to a bag of bones. It's all nonsense anyway, just old wives' tales."

"What?!" she couldn't believe her ears. "How can you say that, you know what bad spirits can do!"

"I have yet to meet a Curse who doesn't bore me to death before I exorcise it," he waved his hand dismissively.

"But you're in no shape to fight Curses tonight! And who knows what this vengeful spirit is like? Maybe it's not at all like Curses!"

"Ridiculous," he huffed. "How can anyone believe one of my Ancestors would want to bother with rising up and punishing me? Don't let yourself be manipulated by my family! Switch that phone off."

But she sure hadn't switched it off. Gojo's phone, she had discovered with a great rush of hope, was not locked.

As soon as he looked to be asleep, she moved to the room furthest away from his bedroom - some kind of office with a large desk, which was completely empty. She closed the door and took a deep breath. There was only one mobile phone number she knew by heart: It was Shoko Ieiri's. Sadly, Shoko wasn't in Tokyo right now but on a small vacation in the mountains. Which dramatically reduced Utahime's options. She had two goals: One, make sure her best friend would never find out about her entering the Gojo danger zone, and two, getting someone to talk sense into Gejo. One and two let to the following plan: impersonate Gojo and type a message to Shoko:

- Hello, Shoko, what's up?

- Who's that?

Utahime breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness her friend was such a workaholic, checking her phone regularly on her holidays too.

- It's Gojo

- You have a new phone?

- No, this is just a different phone, I lost my other one

- Okay, what do you want?

- Can you give me Nanami's number? I need to call him

- Sure, wait -

…

- +81 3-5937-5869. Are you sure you're alright?

- When am I not? Bye and thanks.

Utahime's heart was beating rather fast, she had tried to imitate what she imagined Gojo's tone to be so why had Shoko asked whether he was alright? Ack. Before she could lose her meager courage, she pressed the number she had received and called Nanami Kento.

"Yes?" Gojo's colleague answered the phone upon the third ring, sounding all business-like. "Who is there?"

"Uhm," Utahime felt her tongue knot up in mortification, "uhm, it's me. Er, Utahime. Iori Utahime? You know, I'm a teacher at…"

"I know who you are, Senpai. Why are you calling me? I'm not working right now."

"Ah, it's… it's Gojo," she blurted out, "today is his 27th birthday and he refuses to pay his respect to his ancestors! I think he ran away from his birthday party?"

There was a short pause. "I see," Nanami said. "Well, I don't, but where are you right now?"

"Tokyo," why was she whispering? "I'm in Tokyo. I was hoping maybe you could talk to him? Talk him into it? I have a very bad feeling about this. His aunt was crying on the phone."

"He is there with you?"

"Yes! We're at his apartment!"

"Which apartment?"

Her mind went blank for a moment. "He has several?!"

"Never mind, tell me what it looks like."

"It's huge."

"What else?"

"I can see the Tokyo Skytree from the window."

"Got it. I'll be there as fast as I can. Oh, and Senpai? Make absolutely sure he cannot run away."

He hung up. Utahime just stood there, the phone clutched against her chest. She should feel relieved, Nanami was coming, and he had always been one of the reliable ones. He would know what to do.

After calming her frantic heart down a little, she went back to check on how Gojo was doing. Seeing him grit his teeth in pain had made her worry about things even before she had known about the 27th birthday. But now, the future state of the world might depend on her ability to sober him up quickly enough for the rest of the night and that worried her even more.

To her chagrin, Gojo was sitting up, turning his face in her direction when she poked her head in.

"Almost ready," he stretched his back. "I'll get you back to Kyoto soon."

Make absolutely sure he cannot run away, Nanami had urged her. Quickly, she crossed over to the bed and sat down next to him in the half dark.

"So tell me, Gojo, what do you think about baseball?" She began babbling.

"Uhm, what?" his eyebrows moved up a fraction.

"Baseball."

"It's... alright?"

"I see. And do you like other sports? Tennis, maybe?"

"Formula 1," Gojo said.

"Oh, really?" Why was she surprised? Fast cars? Totally a Gojo thing.

"No, I don't care in the least for Formula 1," he shook his head. "But you are behaving a little strangely."

"Why do you think so?" she pressed out a high-pitched, pearly laugh that she had heard one of the most stylish women in a current TV show use. It always worked on all the men in that show. Coming from her, it sounded deranged and it made her cringe.

"Hm," Gojo leaned in a little closer. "Not only a little. You are very strange."

Gojo's scent. So. Much. Of. It. And the heat of his body coming over her like a comfortable blanket. She froze up completely, when he lifted his hand and brushed a thumb over her lower lip. "If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you are trying to flirt with me."

"Maybe I am?" she heard herself croak.

He seemed surprised. "Why? Oh... Do you want to sleep with me?"

"By the ancestors, no!" Jolting out of her paralysis, she shot up and ran to the safety of the open bedroom door.

"Shame," his voice behind her sounded amused. "It's been a fantasy of mine for years."

She felt dizzy. Gripping the door-frame hard, she turned around. A faint smile curved his lips. In the dim light, it almost seemed like he was blushing.

Slowly step away. That's his seduction game in action. You stand no chance against a pro like him. When did you last see a guy? Over two years ago. All you can do now is run. Run, run, run!

There was very little sex in her life and what there was wasn't good. The problem was she tended to be asked out by earnest, respectable, steady non-sorcerers who were looking for wives. If it came to sex, stressing the if, they were nervous as hell, finished early, and wouldn't stop apologizing after.

That she'd get something completely different from this man was crystal clear. A fantasy of his for years? Surely, he was lying. But by all that was holy, she was tempted. She stared at him across the room until the tension became too thick to bear and her folly sent a bolt of guilt through her.

"Gojo. You have to go and pray at your ancestors' shrine," she begged.

"So that's what this is about," he chuckled. "A diversion. What did you do behind my back, Utahime?"

"N… nothing?"

"You're such a bad liar. Look at your cheeks, all aflame."

"It's only three hours of praying. What's the big deal? If you don't want to pray, just kneel there and wait until it's over!"

"I hope you didn't call the old hags," he sighed. "How could you betray me like this? All I wanted was to spend my birthday the way I wanted. Do you have no compassion?"

"You just found me at the school by accident. You ran away. The Kyoto school is behind a barrier. You thought that they couldn't find you there."

"So? Maybe I didn't know before finding you there working overtime, but drinking beer with you in a non-sorcerer bar was a perfect birthday in the making."

"Seriously, Gojo. Somebody should have put sense into your head years ago. How can you be this irresponsible?"

He pondered that for a while, which made her blood pressure spike dangerously because his face took on that look again.

"You know what?" He finally said smoothly. "Let's make a deal. I play along with this idiotic birthday scheme - if you sleep with me."

By the gods above and below. Utahime took a series of quick breaths, but he had really said it, like the cardboard villain in a yakuza C-movie, grinning mischievously. But she was no fool even if her head was seriously muddled. He was just playing with her. He expected her to throw a fit and storm out, leaving him to be stubborn and irresponsible and doom them all. Above all, he did not want to do the birthday ritual. Now she just needed to stall him.

"Okay," she therefore said, raising her chin defiantly.

"O… okay?" His smug smile faltered.

"Yes, I'll sleep with you."

Gojo's invisible eyes glided over her body pensively, leaving a trail of heat behind.

"You little vixen. Well," he stood up, "let's do this then."

What?! But… that's not how it should have gone!

"Now?" she squealed.

The doorbell chimed merrily. Saved by the bell! Gojo lifted his head, tilting it to the side just a little.

"Nanami? What an interesting choice, Senpai."

He came towards her, poked a finger against her nose and bent forward so that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek.

"You know what? You come to my family's shrine with me. That way, you can make sure I perform adequately. And I can make sure you don't bolt. This will cost me an awful lot. And I expect you to pay me back adequately, you hear me?"