By the time the elevator spat out Nanami Kento in front of his apartment, Gojo's head was at least halfway back to normal. Which was fortuitous, because Nanami looked pissed-off and determined at the same time; that he had cut short his sacred time of leisure to come here was ample reason to expect more than just a mild dressing down.
"Oh look, it's Nanami," Gojo feigned surprise, though the other man knew his energy signature had given him away as soon as he had entered the building, "so nice of you to join my party!"
Nanami was wearing his usual boring business attire, though it was already past 10pm. Gojo was certain that the Grade 1 Sorcerer used Cursed Energy to keep his suits wrinkle free, his tie straight, and his hair parted neatly. That alone wasn't noteworthy, many sorcerers used their powers for vanity's sake, but why in the world did his junior expend energy to look like an unfashionable, dull 50 year old?
"Gojo-san," Nanami bowed. "Congratulations on your birthday. I am honored to see you on such an important day of your life."
Oh pleeeease, Gojo scoffed at the formality. And then he noticed the barely hidden concern in Nanami's eyes when they settled on Utahime behind him and was taken aback by the flash of anger he felt.
Maybe his head wasn't halfway back to normal after all. He just didn't feel like his usual unflappable self, which irritated him greatly.
All day, things had felt… brittle, as if the world of gravity and matter around him was only barely keeping it together, hovering at the brink of dissolving into a shower of atoms if he let his guard down. No, of course he had not fled to Kyto Tech to see Utahime - how could he have expected to meet anyone at this hour? He had teleported there because behind the schools' veils, the swirling chaos of the world dimmed a little and he could breathe more freely.
It was unexpected, but finding her doing overtime had been a huge relief, almost like a physical weight was taken off his shoulders. Going out drinking with Utahime as if there was nothing to worry about was exactly what he needed on this cursed day. She was someone he could trust, she had no designs on him, and wouldn't take advantage of his temporary instability.
The rest that had happened between them was even more unexpected, and he didn't know yet how to feel about it. Recognizing and categorizing emotions was the one thing he wasn't good at, so he tried to avoid trying in general.
"Are you alright, Utahime Senpai?" Nanami asked, his brows drawing together as he took in her slightly disheveled appearance.
"Yes, Nanami-san, not to worry," Utahime stepped forward, throwing Gojo a wide-eyed, spooked look from the side. "I am glad you are here."
Gojo frowned at her. Why was she acting like he was the villain? Had he forced her to do anything she didn't want?
He was the one who felt at a disadvantage. He had not expected Utahime to agree to his suggestion in a million years. She was a woman who was both endearingly transparent with a skin that changed color with every emotion she felt and at the same time brutally honest as long as the rules of politeness allowed it. His suggestion that he would do what she asked for sexual favors from her was an insult to someone as upright as her, deliberately made because Gojo did not like to be manipulated, not by anyone. Naturally, he had expected a hissyfit and an attempt to slap him. He had even considered turning off his Infinity just to give her the satisfaction of actually leaving a mark on his face.
But she had said yes.
Despite his surprise, and despite the immediate certainty that she was not sincere, that she was a smart woman who had easily surmised that his ultimate goal today was to evade his family whatever was offered to persuade him otherwise, he had felt a rush of fluttering excitement. Like a bloody teenager.
He hadn't lied about fantasizing about her in his bed. For someone like him whose status and fame in the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers meant he got everything he wanted and more too easily, Utahime Senpai's cold, disdainful indifference had always been an intriguing challenge. Imagining her naked, aroused, squirming, whimpering and begging him to give it to her was a foolproof way to get it off.
So he had said yes too.
"My car is downstairs," Nanami said. "If we leave now, we should be able to make it to Kyoto before midnight."
"Do you have nothing better to do than come here to spoil my evening?" Gojo's smirk felt stiff and menacing on his lips. Nanami was the perfect target for the anger that felt so misplaced and alien. He hated to be manipulated - and he hated to feel trapped, even if it was himself doing his own trapping.
"I was having a very good meal at home, which I prepared for more than an hour," Nanami replied, narrowing his eyes. "So, instead of wasting time on a pointless discussion, just be an adult for once and do what has to be done. It's your duty."
"I'll… I'll be right back!" Utahime's voice gave away her discomfort at the tension in the air. She brushed past him, fleeing to her chosen toilet, where she hastily turned the key.
"She's coming with us," Gojo pointed his thumb at the toilet door over his shoulder.
Nanami stiffened. "Why? It is your birthday."
"Utahime and I have an agreement," Gojo put his hands into his pocket and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Which is none of your business."
"It could get dangerous for her."
"Duh, she'll be with me."
Nanami rolled his eyes. "She's a respectable teacher at Kyoto Jujutsu High. You should know better than to mess around with someone like her. It won't end well for you."
Gojo pulled a face. What was that supposed to mean? Nanami, who was watching him with narrowed eyes, sighed dramatically.
"I'm not in a good mood," Gojo warned him.
"I can see that but neither am I," Nanami retorted. "I am sick and tired of being the only one in this insane world who has a sliver of sense. Why do I have to be the one people call every single time you mess up?"
Gojo bristled at the insinuation, then remembered an occasion that fit that description just the other week. And the week before. And maybe a few days before that? But thinking about people in his life who took it upon themselves to keep him in line just made him remember Geto and that - hurt.
"Like you don't benefit from it," he challenged his junior quickly so that he did not have to ponder events of the past. Nanami the Savior was a BIG favorite with the women - many of whom went out with him after they got dumped by Gojo. Hmmmmm, was that why Utahime had called him? Because he was her favorite too? Gojo turned his head towards the toilet, surprised his mood could get even worse.
"Call them and tell them we're coming," Nanami said, pulling out his cellphone from his jacket, holding it in Gojo's direction.
"Why don't you call them," Gojo bristled.
"Because I am not in possession of your family's phone numbers?" Nanami sighed again.
Gojo took the phone, pouting down at the display. It felt like he had lost - not a familiar feeling. It felt like he had maneuvered himself into a dead end. The key turned in the lock behind him and Utahime came out of the toilet, bringing a whiff of his yuzu soap with her. His body noticed it with interest.
Very well. He dialed his favorite aunt's number. She answered almost immediately.
"It's me," Gojo said. "I'm coming back to Kyoto."
The relieved sobbing on the other end of the line made him feel all kinds of strange, so he hung up quickly.
"Utahime Senpai," Nanami addressed her, "where is your coat?"
"Ah," she cleared her throat. "About that…"
"Come with me," Gojo threw the phone back at Nanami, grabbed her arm and pulled her in the direction of his walk-in wardrobe. "You'll freeze to death in that old shitty structure."
His clan's shrine was old - very old. It was a World Cultural Heritage site. Renovations, when they happened, were not to change anything about the structure. Hence, there was no heating system. There weren't even any proper windows. It would be a major pain in the ass.
"What have we got here," he began sifting through his many jumpers in search of something that would fit her, "hm, hm, hmmmm…"
"I understand why you are displeased," Utahime said quietly. "I am sorry for going behind your back."
Displeased? Was that the word for what he felt? Yes, he was displeased and upset - but she wasn't the cause of it. He looked over his shoulder at her standing there, the halogen spotlights making her dark hair shine purple at the top. His heart quivered precariously in his chest at the sight of her looking so contrite and forlorn and that… freaked him out. He was feeling altogether too many things on this wretched day and not everything could be traced back to too much alcohol.
"It was necessary though," she lifted her chin defiantly. "It is indeed your duty."
Duty. He did his duty every single day, every hour, every minute. The higher ups called him with no mercy at any time of the day or night. That part of his life he accepted, just like he had accepted as a child that every day, every hour, every minute someone could make an attempt on his life because his mere existence threatened certain sorcerers. Given how little freedom he had, it galled him that yet another set of people thought they could lecture him about his duties.
"Why do you hate your family so much?" Utahime blurted out. She turned crimson instantly, drawing back a little. "Sorry, none of my business."
The question was a good one but he had no interest in thinking about it too hard. He just did and he always had. The Gojo Clan embodied everything he despised about the Jujutsu World, end of story. In the world of his dreams, the old Clans held no power. In the here and now, they held all of it.
"You're even tinier than I thought," he mumbled, deliberately bringing the conversation back to something as mundane as body size, taking a Kenzo sweatshirt from the clothes hanger. "Put that on?"
She eyed the piece of garment with apprehension. There was a roaring tiger at the front. He liked it because it resembled her when she roared at him.
"It's snowing outside," he explained. "It's going to be very cold."
She looked down at her rumpled clothes with a little frown, then took the sweater from his hand. She was wearing what looked like thick stockings underneath her prissy skirt, but that wasn't going to be enough. Gojo turned back around to look at coat options. Coats were out of the question, but maybe a jacket would do the trick? He watched her in one of the mirrors as she pulled the sweater over her head - It reached down to her knees, making her look like a slightly naughty child.
"Looks like I'm wearing a sack," she said unhappily, turning a little from side to side to study her reflection.
"No need to show off your curves where we're going," Gojo smirked. Her displeasure was instantaneous and well, he was reminded that he liked it when she reacted with anger to things he said or did. "In Michizane Sugawara's times, they liked their women chaste and covered up. Wait…"
He grabbed a padded jacket and held it out for her. After putting that on, she looked like a very fat, ungainly penguin. Cute.
"Here," he also chose a bright red Bottega Veneta beanie for her, and mittens of the same flamboyant color.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Oh, definitely," he smirked, watching her turn red again with quite some satisfaction. He had something to look forward to - his mood was already improving by leaps and bounds.
###
It was snowing in Tokyo too. Utahime turned her face up when they exited the building, watching the glittering flakes flutter down between the towering high scrapes, catching the light of windows and street lamps.
"This way, Utahime Senpai," Nanami bowed politely, indicating a sportive red car that was parked carelessly on the curb in what was very obviously a "no parking/no stopping" zone.
"He is the one who likes Formula 1," Gojo whispered into her ear. He was standing much too close, his towering warmth a welcome source of heat at her back even if his closeness made her insides flutter nervously. There was a small, quivering part of her that feared she might have maneuvered herself straight into the tiger's mouth. The rest of her was fully convinced that he was just playing with her. She was certain that without Nanami's timely appearance, Gojo wouldn't have agreed to go to Kyoto. He had obviously known who had rung his bell without having to see Nanami, which meant that when he had said "let's do it then", he had already known his junior was in the building, and he had already decided to stop acting like a petulant man child. Which meant he had just wanted to shock her with his lewd offer and then planned to aggravate her by pretending they had a deal.
The small, quivering part had to be smothered and silenced because while it feared the trap, it also hoped for it to snap shut.
Nanami had opened the door for her with another little bow, he was so nice and polite!, and she climbed in after brushing a bit of snow off the ridiculously large clothes Gojo had given her.
"Move over," Gojo came in right behind her, forcing her to skid over hastily, his large frame even more intimidating in such a cramped space.
Nanami frowned and slammed the door shut after Gojo, then walked to the front to get behind the wheel.
"Please put on your seat-belts," he told them, briefly looking at them in the mirror.
This, so Utahime realized from the gently humming force field around them as she snapped the seat-belt into place, was a car fueled by cursed energy, which meant it would not behave like a normal human car. Still, when it shot forward at such a break-neck speed that her stomach dropped to her feet, she shrieked in surprise.
"Just close your eyes," Gojo next to her suggested. "Especially if you tend to get car sick."
It sounded like good advice and she pressed her eyes shut, but then, he commenced to babble excitedly about all the sites that rushed by outside, peppering his high-speed speech with phrases such as "oh look! It's XYZ" and "you have to see this! It's ABC!" until she gave in to her own curiosity and cracked open an eye.
Everything outside was a blur of color and lights and for a discomforting moment, fear gripped her heart. How was Nanami able to steer this car through Tokyo's traffic without causing a horrific accident? Cursed energy or not, matter was still matter, and matter hitting other matter at full speed meant things broke and people got hurt - unless you were Satoru Gojo whom nothing could ever touch.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Gojo grabbed her hand between his very large ones and pressed it reassuringly, making her feel silly for doubting Nanami's abilities. It was beautiful, even when they left the city behind and continued propelling forward as fast as a bullet on National Route 1, the white of the snow and the black of the night forming dizzying patterns of light and dark around them, as if the world were not solid but just a precarious assortment of pieces held together by the will of unseen forces.
Was this how Gojo saw the world all the time? she wondered, throwing him a furtive look from the side. He still held her hand, the awareness of which sent a bolt of heat through her, but he seemed to have forgotten about it, his Infinity making him immune and apparently oblivious to touch. He looked content and relaxed, his head with its shock of tousled white hair resting against the headrest of his seat, reassuring her somewhat that maybe, this 27th birthday business wouldn't end in a total disaster for the world after all.
She must have nodded off next because she woke up with Gojo's arm around her shoulder, her forehead pressed against the side of his chest. How nice he smelled, her foggy brain registered greedily, like a summer breeze reminding her of carefree leisure in the countryside.
"Almost there," he said, releasing her when she stiffened and forgot to breathe for a moment, her brain jolting out of its fogginess to realize that she had cuddled up against him in a most familiar way.
The car had slowed down to almost normal speed, winding its way up a narrow road. It looked like they were headed up Mount Hiei-zan? She concentrated on the barely visible sights in the night, trying to remember what she knew of the Gojo family's vast holdings all over Japan. It wasn't much because the great Clans kept to themselves. Yet, it would befit his Clan to have its main shrine in this location: going by ancient geomancy practices, Mount Hiei-zan was known as a sacred location with a special kind of soothing energy flowing from the earth, forming a protective bulwark against negative emotions and therefore against all kinds of curses.
"This is how far I go," Nanami said as the car came to a gentle stop. There was a large Torii gate looming before them, its vermilion color shining like fresh blood in the headlights of the car. He looked at them in the rear mirror again, his eyes invisible behind his reflecting special glasses. He seemed tired. Utahime felt a little bad that she had called him at such a late hour but she would make it up to him with a gift basket or something like it. She was extremely grateful for his help, and even though the prayer ceremony was still before them, he had helped get Gojo here without complaining once, a true ally.
Nanami got out smoothly, walking around the car to open the door for her. She unzipped the seat belt and stretched her back a little, careful not to bump against Gojo.
"I am grateful for your help," Nanami murmured when she alighted. "Senpai, make sure he goes through with it, please."
She noticed four black, expensive looking cars parked on the side of the road - someone was already here to make sure this would go down smoothly. Oh, but it was cold here. Shivering, she put on the beanie and the mittens, nodding to Nanami. "The gratefulness is mine," she smiled up at him. "It's only thanks to you we are here."
Nanami tilted his head like he wasn't quite sure what to make of her statement, then his lips curved downwards when he looked at Gojo who was hauling his large body out of the low car. He had never put on his seat-belt, Utahime realized, which… was typical and a little amusing.
"Take care, Senpai," Nanami said and walked back to the driver's side, spitefully ignoring Gojo altogether. He put his elegant car into reverse, turned it around and was gone within seconds, plunging them into darkness. It wasn't complete, Utahime realized once her eyes had time to adjust, the lights from the city of Kyoto, though somewhere far below them, illuminated the cloudy night sky sufficiently for her to differentiate rudimentary shapes.
"This way," Gojo said curtly, beginning to walk towards the gate. He looked tense and that didn't help with her state of mind. Why exactly had he insisted on her company? It was late, she was tired, and being at the ancient shrine of the Gojo Clan with the heir of the Gojo Clan on his 27th birthday suddenly felt like the last thing any sane person would agree to. There had to be ghosts in such a place, she could almost feel them hovering in the dark, weighing pros and cons of attacking them. Did ghosts know not to meddle with the likes of Satoru Gojo or were they uninterested in his powers?
"Young Master," someone's quivering voice pierced the darkness, giving her quite the fright - but it was just an elderly man in black, formal clothing, most likely a butler of the family, unshuttering a lantern to illuminate the footpath leading into the grounds. He threw her a questioning look, but turned his back on them before she could introduce herself. Rude. She followed Gojo up a few steps and then through a light forest, stomping her feet to get the blood flowing and frankly also to scare away small ghosts who might otherwise jump on her back.
Another structure appeared before them, a few lanterns spilling a bit of reddish light in their immediate vicinity.
"The family is waiting inside," the butler remarked. "It is already very late," he added, clearly meaning to reprimand. "Your grandmother isn't of good health, and you should not have made her wait in this weather."
"Grandmother is here?" Gojo straightened his shoulders. "You should have taken her home, Ojii-san, how irresponsible of you."
The older man sniffled in displeasure, silently pointing a finger up the front stairs. Utahime thought she heard him murmur "once a brat, always a brat," as she walked past him. She was just suppressing a giggle because the thought that the word "brat" fit Gojo perfectly when she felt the butler's eyes burn holes into her back, reminding her where she was and that she definitely did not belong here. Soothing energy? Not really.
The family consisted of seven women at various ages, all dressed in kimonos covered by designer winter coats, two of them sitting in lacquered antique chairs, the rest standing behind them with straight backs, wearing their hair in complicated, festive nihongami styles with sinfully expensive hairpieces.
"So he makes an appearance at last," the oldest of the women snapped. She was tiny, wrinkled, with hair as white as Gojo's, leaning heavily on a cane, but her voice was sharp and surprisingly sonorous - or maybe she had just carefully chosen the best spot for it to echo in the ante-chamber.
"Grandmother," Gojo inclined his head briefly. "Aunts," he greeted the other women.
"Who is that?" The old woman's eyes had honed in on Utahime almost instantly upon her entrance. They were the sharp eyes of a person who wielded power from birth, without anyone ever questioning her right to it.
"Iori Utahime," Gojo made a step in her direction almost as if to shield her. "She's with me."
"This is not done," the grandmother hissed.
"Says who?" Gojo's light, careless tone belied his belligerence that radiated off him in waves. "I'm thinking you don't want to argue with me given the advanced hour."
"A Iori?" The grandmother rapped sharply against the floor with her silver walking stick. "So this is one of your deliberate insults, boy, is it?"
"I would prefer it if you did not speak about my family this way," Utahime interrupted her, temper flaring. "We do not deserve your arrogant contempt." You old, wrinkled dragon, she added in her head.
Several of the aunts gasped. The old woman's mouth fell open and stayed that way. But Gojo's proud smile warmed Utahime's insides and made her hold her head up high. The Gojos were bullies. The only defense against bullies was to stand up to them and not give them an inch. If given a chance, bully right back.
"The audacity!" The old woman huffed. "How dare this woman!"
"It is very late, Setai-nushi," one of the younger women addressed the matriarch demurely. Utahime thought she recognized the voice from the second phone call. "Only ten minutes to midnight."
"You may thank her, she is the only reason I am doing this," Gojo said, taking off his blindfold, fixing his blue, piercing eyes on his relatives.
Silence fell. The ghosts in the shadows quivered excitedly, Utahime could almost hear them whisper to each other. All her imagination, what else, but there were ancient things lurking in this place, no doubt about it, and those ancient things were paying attention to the humans and their petty struggles.
Maybe we should hurry up, she thought, another shiver traveling down her spine.
"That's really not n…," she began, thinking she could afford to be magnanimous in such a situation, but the woman who had spoken earlier made a few steps forward and bowed low, cutting her short.
"Thank you, Miss Iori," she said with much sincerity. "Thank you for bringing Satoru here. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. We are in your debt."
"Good enough," Gojo huffed and took Utahime's hand. "And now get lost, all of you."
Funny how his incredible rudeness impressed her to the degree that she suddenly asked herself whether her low opinion of him might be unjustified - at least partially. Before she could wrap her head around what that meant, he had already pulled her through a doorway and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot.
It didn't need the threatening statue of the vengeful horned spirit in the middle of the dimly lit room to alert her that they had entered the inner sanctuary of the shrine, the honden. She physically felt it, the age-old presence of the kami, the manifestation of musubi, the interconnecting energy of the universe. Instinctively, Utahime fell to her knees, wrenching her hand from Gojo's in the process, touching her forehead to the floor, once, twice, thrice, feeling awkward and clumsy in her heavy layers of clothing.
"Huh," Gojo said, lifting his hand to his blazing blue eyes. "Now that is interesting."
"Something tells me that I do not want to know what you mean?" She whispered, keeping an eye on the shifting shadows as she turned her head to look up at his surprised face. The kami's presence settled heavily on her shoulders, making it incredibly hard to sit up. Someone in this room wasn't happy - besides Gojo.
"Touch me," Gojo demanded, falling on his knees next to her.
"Excuse me?" Her nervousness made her voice shrill. Surely he didn't mean to…
But he grabbed her hand, ripped off the mitten and positioned it flat against his chest. She felt his heartbeat underneath her palm, steady and strong like a drum.
She ripped back her hand in surprise, then put it back, suddenly unsure whether she was imagining things. But his heartbeat was there and it accelerated: She was touching Gojo Satoru, really touching him.
"My Infinity is off," he said, sounding so flabbergasted she wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him everything was going to be alright. But that would have been a lie.
Somewhere in the shadows, something chuckled menacingly.
"Hm," Gojo said, putting his hand over hers protectively, "I never gave this much thought… Are vengeful spirits like curses?"
"No, Gojo," Utahime whimpered. "They really are not. We should start praying. Now."
But really, how could she believe someone like Gojo would even consider reacting sensibly to a threat? He stood up, pulling her to her feet with him.
"Who is it?" He called into the shadows, standing tall and arrogant. "Show yourself!"
"With pleasure, insolent boy," a gravelly voice thundered. "You don't know just how thirsty for blood I am."
The next moment, Gojo was ripped off his feet and slammed against the wall of the shrine with such force, Utahime feared the shuddering structure would collapse around them.