Even after sifting diligently through his memories, Gojo couldn't remember when he had last had the wind knocked out of him like this, leaving him in a tangled heap on the floor, gasping for air that refused to flow into his lungs, and shuddering in pain from what had to be several broken ribs if not worse.

Maybe, so his conclusion, he couldn't remember because it had never happened before.

Yes, his private teachers had been extremely harsh and had thrashed him at every possible opportunity from when he had barely been able to walk, not allowing him to use his Infinity to defend himself once his powers had kicked in at the age of four. Well, every beating was to his benefit of course, because the Heir of the Gojo Clan had to be ready for anything, anytime and couldn't expect to be cuddled and pampered. Then again, the Heir of the Gojo Clan had a much higher value alive than maimed or dead, his extraordinary abilities promising to catapult their venerated Clan into an unchallengeable leadership position among the Big Three - which meant that his teachers refrained from hitting hard enough for serious damage.

Smart of them because he was a very fast learner and had soon given back every ounce of pain with a bit of extra sprinkles on top.

He remembered dying though. That wasn't something you easily forgot: The dimming of light, the narrowing of your field of vision... the world shrinking around him, the ruckus of swirling, grating matter quieting down, everything in the universe coming to a standstill.

The most peaceful moment in his life? When his Six Eyes had ceased working.

But of course, he hadn't truly died when Toji Fushiguro had slashed his torso open and had stabbed him through the leg, the throat, the head. Upon reflection, death had probably been delayed that day because Gojo hadn't fully realized what was happening - the entire sensation was so extraordinary, so alien, he had just lain there in a growing puddle of his own blood, wondering what the heck he was to make of the eerie silence of the world, holding on to life because he couldn't puzzle it out.

Later, he couldn't remember in detail how he had managed to unlock the complexity of the Reverse Cursed Technique at the brink of death - he was delirious from the overuse of his powers, they said, his brain a frazzled mess. But there, within him, just waiting patiently for him to come look and find it, was the core of cursed energy that helped him awaken the true powers of the Limitless, allowing him to restore himself from near-death.

Kind of ironic that almost dying was what made him the strongest of them all. After that, after truly mastering his family's inherited techniques at the age of sixteen, Gojo had fast risen so far above the rest of the Jujutsu Society, nothing could touch him anymore. They called Gojo arrogant to his face. They said he had a God-complex behind his back. He didn't take offense with either: He was boundlessly arrogant because he had God-like powers, that was a simple and incontrovertible fact and if people didn't like him for it - their problem, he didn't like most people either.

But the eleven years that followed after Toji's attack on him had been… dull. Nothing was a challenge. The world lost most of its excitement especially after Geto's defection and disappearance.

That's why his present predicament rather intrigued him.

It was similar and yet vastly different from almost dying eleven years ago. The throbbing pain spreading through his body, threatening to cloud his brain into stupor for example: What was he to make of that? It felt like he was tottering on the brink of an abyss from which he might not so easily come back if he fell. Vertigo was not something he had experienced before - he didn't like it. He reached within himself to use his reversed curse technique like he had done hundreds of times since that day Toji Fushiguro had tried to kill him but… nothing was there. He was… entirely empty. There was no Cursed Energy anywhere, not inside of him, not outside, not beyond the room...

… duh! They had simply entered a domain expansion, what else. A clever one in this case, hard to recognize as one, fooling even him.

Gojo tried to activate his own expansion to blast this one into oblivion - but how could he when there was no Cursed Energy for him to use? It was a conundrum.

Very intriguing.

Gojo got to his feet, found himself swaying precariously. He felt very dizzy, the vertigo was only getting stronger. His invisible assailant was taunting him, calling him weak, insolent, a disgrace to the family.

"You'll be taught a lesson!" The voice thundered.

Oh, good! There was so little he didn't yet know, he craved to learn new things. Occasionally. Gojo tried to speak to express his appreciation for his enemy's unconventional style but it was impossible. There was so much blood in his mouth he couldn't move his tongue properly without choking.

And the noise!

When he had almost died eleven years ago, the world had gone beautifully quiet. This here was the exact opposite: the world that was always in loud, grating motion was a thousand times louder now, screaming at him with such intensity he thought his vibrating eardrums would explode.

"Gojo! Gojo, say something!"

He recognized Utahime's trembling voice through the ruckus. He turned his head to and fro, why couldn't he see her? Things were very hazy all around, with horned shadows dancing and swirling, slashing at him with tiny knives. His Six Eyes hurt him, he was still too sensitive after getting drunk earlier. Putting the blindfold back didn't seem like a good idea though because… well, if he didn't see well without it, he'd likely be near blind with it.

No use denying that it was his fault that Utahime was caught in this domain expansion with him and though he was sure he would get them out of here unscathed sooner than later, he wanted to assure her that she had to fear nothing - because he was Gojo Satoru, the greatest Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world whom nothing could harm.

Normally.

She touched his arm, said something else he couldn't catch. Now he could see her standing in front of him: She looked fierce, with hair that flowed around her like the currents of a dark river, her lips a thin, determined line.

He just had to smile at her. It was a selfish notion but he was suddenly quite glad it was her he had dragged into this.

"Can't you at least try to appease him?" Utahime shouted, tugging on his hand.

Appease whom? His assailant had no substance, it was a mere agglutination of evil energy directed at him. He understood evil energies, and even though this one looked and felt different from the usual curses, he would have made short work of it under normal circumstances.

"Get down on your knees! Pray!" She yelled, tugging more forcefully.

Gojo wanted to tell Utahime to take cover somewhere but, well… he coughed up blood all over the wooden floor when he tried to speak. For a brief moment, his airway was free and he was able to take a deep breath but it was a short-lived reprieve. The agglutination of evil energy slammed him against the wall again.

What a strange way to end one's birthday, Gojo thought, groaning in pain.

"Why can't you use your powers?" Utahime yelled.

He didn't understand that either. That had never happened to him before. Actually, it shouldn't happen. Unless…

Well, DAMN.

… he had been warned enough times never to trust anyone, to watch everything he ate, everything he drank. His Six Eyes gave him that ability, he saw when things had been tampered with - if he looked for it. There was so much information the eyes constantly fed him he simply had to tune most of it out if there was no apparent danger.

But there were countless people in the world who would prefer him dead.

That included those in his own family. Those who had never bothered to truly investigate what had happened to his parents and his unborn sibling. Those. Guess there was a limit to how much they would put up with after all? Bitter tasting laughter shook him, it hurt so much he almost blacked out. He reeled, tried to grab a wooden pillar to support himself and... missed. He fell flat on his face.

He had accepted a cup of tea at his aunt's place this afternoon. And he had eaten several of the tasty, oversweet coconut cookies. What a fool he was.

"Ah, good, stay down," Utahime ripped his hands forward and pressed them to the sticky floor so that it looked like he was prostrating. "Now pray, you moron!"

He occasionally liked his women to treat him roughly but this was a little too cruel for his taste. He was really hurt! Gojo struggled to get back on his knees to complain, but Utahime just pressed down harder on his neck, muttering angrily.

"You don't know how? Of course you don't. You've probably never prayed in your whole life, you spoiled brat. Tell him you're sorry for his suffering for starters! Offer your compassion!"

"But I…"

"Just do it!"

Gojo had issues with people telling him what to do - it made him want to do the opposite. Besides, he needed to have an argument with Utahime about the completely misguided belief that compassion did anyone any good. In his opinion, compassion was a big fat problem. There were too many curses who took advantage of naive, compassionate people, luring them to their untimely death after manipulating them cruelly. And hello? Whatever thing had trapped them in his innate domain and was beating the shit out of him did deserve the exact opposite: swift, possibly painful obliteration, not compassion!

So he shook his head resolutely though it hurt like hell.

"I don't believe this," Utahime groaned, letting go of him.

"Don't worry about a thing, I've got this!" He wanted to reassure her but then Utahime began to chant and Gojo's mind went completely blank.

It felt like being lifted up by the gentlest of hands, like being wrapped into the cuddliest, warmest blanket, held to the softest, most loving bosom.

The most peaceful moment in his life? This one. He never wanted it to end.

###

Michizane Sugawara's spirit did not pay any attention to her before she started singing. His entire, considerable malevolence was focused on Gojo alone - who seemed unable to defend himself against the onslaught of negative energy but still managed to further enrage his ancestor with every labored, obstinate breath he took.

At the beginning, she didn't mind Gojo getting his ass kicked - actually, she felt something akin to Schadenfreude at seeing him brought down low. But that was before he started spitting so much blood the floor turned a sick red color. Panic was not something she was prone to but this began to look very serious. If his Limitless was not working, maybe this could kill him?

The very balance of the world was altered when Gojo was born, every Sorcerer had felt it. She did not want to witness what would happen when he died. She did not want to witness him die, fullstop: notwithstanding his many faults, he was a younger classmate and by an unwritten yet sacred code among Jujutsu Sorcerers, you defended your fellow Sorcerers to the death, even if the one currently in trouble happened to be the most powerful being in the world.

Easier said than done though: As a semi-grade 1 Sorcerer, she had fought a fair share of mildly powerful curses in her life. The one in the room with them was not a curse though, and definitely not only mildly powerful. None of their usual classification schemes applied, which made the selection of a good strategy almost impossible. Besides, she did not have time to study the Vengeful Spirit for long. If she did not intervene immediately, Gojo would probably end up squashed to a pulp.

Picturing one of the 32 kind faces of loving Kannon, the One Who Perceives the Sounds of the World, she began to chant - "namo ratna-trayāya, namaḥ ārya-jñāna …" - wanting the Spirit to notice her, wanting him to listen.

She was always at the most vulnerable when the first few notes passed her lips. It was about choosing the right pitch, the right speed, the right treble, the right intensity to capture a curse's attention. If the connection wasn't established within the first few seconds, she was screwed.

Yup… She was screwed.

Gojo's ancestor turned his burning eyes on her with malice and annoyance, not in the least bothered by the ensnaring powers behind her song.

"Who are you, daring to trespass in my sanctuary?" he bellowed.

"Just a nobody," she sang to him. Listen you scumbag, listen well…

"I will kill you."

He probably would. But she noticed that he did not advance towards her, just took a little more substance. A boar's snout? And fangs? Really? How ugly. She slightly adjusted her song. Ack, it was draining to sing in different voices, she hadn't needed to use that technique in so long.

"I am here to appease you," she bowed deeply, putting her heart into it, to make up for Gojo's previous irreverence. "I am here to make offerings."

The Spirit turned his attention away from Gojo to regard her more closely. Good. Just a little more. Samyak-sambuddhaya, namaḥ sarva-tathāgatebyah...

"You are not of my bloodline, it does not count!" The Spirit's anger was fiery hot and freezing cold at the same time, painfully abrasive on the skin of her face, setting her scar aflame.

"What if I am his future wife? Would that count?"

Daring - what a claim to make! - yet, she had to admit with no false modesty, clever: Association by marriage certainly counted in the Jujutsu world and if only because a healthy womb to bear clan heirs was always welcome.

The Spirit chuckled. "You think me stupid? There is no such promise between you even though you seem eager to bargain on his behalf. You are surprisingly resourceful for a woman: Are you a Zen'in?"

Urgh, no! The instant repulsion she felt resonated within her song before she could suppress it. Apparently, that greatly amused Michizane: He slapped his palms to his legs and roared with laughter, the sound rolling in the small room like thunder.

"Good, that is good! Future wife you say? Then you must come and pay me your respects on my death day every year! It is on the 26th of March, woman."

Was he offering a deal? She hesitated to agree to it. It felt like a trap.

"But first I want to kill him. He is entirely annoying and useless."

The Spirit turned his attention back on Gojo but whipped back around at the flare of indignation from her.

"He is the Greatest your Clan has ever seen!" Utahime contradicted him. "How can you say he's useless?"

"Useless as in too much trouble," the Spirit spat disdainfully. "And there will be others like him, like there were others before him."

"Surely not like him," she frowned. The idea that there had been or were going to be other Gojo Satorus in history was simply ludicrous. "Isn't the fact that he won't bow to anyone special? He is the strongest Sorcerer the world has ever seen because of it."

To her surprise and relief, Michizane sat down to ponder her claim. And… she had him. Utahime suppressed an exclamation of triumph. He was trapped in her net and had not even noticed. Now to pull it shut, slowly, persistently... Her chant intensified in volume, filling the shrine's very essence. The Spirit took on more substance, its energies quieted down. He had the gestalt of a man now, dressed in the clothes of the Heian Period.

"You say there is strength in his defiance?" Gojo's ancestor tapped a finger against his lips. "Hm. But I don't like it. His very existence offends me."

Sometimes, one had to lie. "He talks about you with the highest of possible regards!" she claimed boldly. "He just… cannot show his affection?"

The Spirit, lulled by her chanting, had become very still, a look of wonder on his face. Gotcha.

"Go back into the Spirit realm, Great One," Utahime appeased him. "I will see justice done. I will right the wrong that has been done to you. Go, be at peace."

The figure of the man looked at her pensively one last time, dimmed, and disappeared.

It was done. A groan escaped her raw throat as she slumped forward, retching and coughing. Her arms were shaking so much she could barely hold herself upright. All she wanted was sleep, sleep, sleep!

A small sound made her freeze up but when she whipped around, she did not find a new threat, only huge, blue eyes full of wonder trained on her, shining from a pale, blood smeared face like beacons. The eyes were full of need.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got, Gojo," she rasped, lifting her hand to brush away some hair from his face. "This is a song for the dead, not for the living."

He deserved compassion too, but she had nothing more to give. Only a whisper of a chant, a blessing against the harshness of life, against the weight he was carrying on his shoulders every minute of every day, with nobody ever properly thanking him.

She still looked into his incredibly blue eyes underneath the long white lashes when the world went black.

###

Gojo crashed down abruptly from floating on comfortable, fluffy clouds when Utahime stopped singing. The hard ground he found himself on was freezing cold and reeking of drying blood. Why had Utahime stopped?! She was near him, if he had been able to move, he would have reached for her and begged her to continue, every breath he took hurt so much he wanted to cry.

A small needy sound escaped his lips and their eyes locked - he had startled her, but after a moment of tenseness her expression softened. A hummed whisper from her bloodied lips caressed his body with featherlight touch, followed by a brush of her soft fingers on his forehead - before her eyelids fluttered shut and she collapsed sideways.

He noticed that the evil energy was gone, that his eyesight was clear again. She did that? Gojo attempted to push himself into an upright position to check on her but he was so spent it was impossible to do even that much - so he just moved sideways on his back until he reached her.

The warmth radiating from her small, well-padded body was a welcome assurance she was alive - and something he desperately needed to dispel the incredible cold that had begun to grip the very essence of him. Without his Limitless, he had no protection, and the world was such an evil place. His teeth chattering loudly, he drew her close to his chest, wrapping his long limbs around her.

She saved me, he thought. She did that.

Nobody had ever done anything like this for him and he wasn't yet sure what it meant. Was it normal? For him to save other people, yes. For her to save other people? Probably also yes. So maybe, it was nothing special to be saved by someone else, all things considered, even if it felt special to him who had only ever done the saving, with a lot of potential for massive embarrassment... and danger.

Still not a sliver of cursed energy at his disposal. If that continued… but no. It would not. It could not. He could not let any weakness linger. He was Gojo Satoru and nobody, nobody messed with him without consequences. He was to be taught a lesson? Yes, he had been taught one: They will betray you, each and every one of them. Funny how that was even news to him? He had indulged the vultures and their measly offspring long enough. If he survived this night, they would be very sorry they had pissed him off.

Gojo drifted in and out of unconsciousness, shivering and hurting, the shrine's old, faded paintings about his ancestor's great deeds becoming more visible every time he opened his eyes.

A new day was breaking.

Utahime was still out cold but her breathing was deep and regular. Her face was nestled against his neck, her breath forming little clouds that mingled with those from his own mouth in the freezing air.

If he concentrated hard enough to fool himself he could pretend they were on a bed together, even if it was a little too uncomfortable for his taste, cuddled up for warmth because their blanket had slipped in the night and both of them didn't want to leave the other's embrace to retrieve it. He hadn't thought about himself as the cuddly type before - but this was a night full of surprises.

Following a sudden impulse, he put his lips on her forehead. Without his Limitless, he had no protection against the world. It put him on edge even though he sensed no danger. On the other hand, without the Limitless, everything he touched felt intimate and close, warm, soft, and comforting.

And for the briefest of moments, Gojo Satoru wished he were someone else, someone who could choose freely how to live their life.

That moment was gone and willfully forgotten when, like a bolt from the blue, the world around him came into motion. Power rushed through him, a split second of overwhelming wildness that threatened to consume everything before he forced the Cursed Energy into submission with iron will. The Infinity barrier formed around his body, putting a distance between himself and the world. Between himself and her.

###

Utahime felt him near her before she opened her eyes. She had never been this aware of the power he emitted, not consciously at least. But this soon after using her powers to such an extreme degree, she was very sensitive to vibrations and sounds, could sometimes even hear the dust motes sing.

So Gojo was alright. What a relief.

Utahime pushed herself up into a sitting position. She had to be absolutely filthy from sleeping on this ground. Her hand went to her hair - abominable - then touched her hurting scar. The skin was still irritated. Her eyes sought him out, found him looking at her through his blindfold, leaning against the wall. In a way, she was glad he had covered his eyes. It felt like she had seen too much in them tonight.

"You alright?" he asked.

She nodded. Speaking, she knew, would hurt too much.

"You're not," he added. "I'll take you to Shoko."

She shook her head vehemently. Utahime wasn't quite sure why but she really did not want her friend to find out about this night. Nor the evening that had preceded it.

"I thought we were caught in a domain expansion yesterday," Gojo began to prowl restlessly, filling the limited space of the shrine with his large presence, "but now I'm not sure."

She shrugged. Did it even matter?

"It is possible you saved my life," he said quietly and Utahime realized she had never seen Gojo this serious.

"I have to ask you…," he turned his face upwards, to the wooden beams supporting the roof, where the shadows were deepest, "to promise never to tell anybody about what happened."

Utahime understood immediately. The danger he was in if somebody found out that it was possible to strip Gojo Satoru of his powers, even if only temporarily, was too great.

She nodded, forcing a smile onto her lips. If her throat hadn't been this raw, she would have told him she had absolutely no interest in telling anybody about spending a night with Gojo and his crazy ancestor.

"Hey, I had fun on my birthday with you," he grinned. "Let's do that again soon."

That made her laugh, but laughing hurt, so she suppressed it and gritted her teeth instead. She only wanted to go home, take a long, hot shower, then sleep in her own bed until evening.

Gojo regarded her quietly. Just go away, she wished quietly, leave me alone. You're ten thousand leagues above me and I want nothing to do with the things that are out to get you. However much this night cost you, it cost me more. We are done.

With time, she'd forget the look in his blue eyes, the raw need, the sadness, the soul-shattering loneliness. She did not want to have a soft spot for Gojo Satoru. It would only mean trouble, far more trouble than she could deal with.

"Alright," Gojo said and came to a sudden halt. "Can you walk? Let's go."

They walked out of the shrine and into the forest in silence. In the early morning light, everything looked quiet and peaceful. There was a cable car going down to the city, Utahime knew, but would it operate this early in the day? But she'd rather walk all the way down than teleport with him. Which was so silly, considering how weak she was, but the mere thought of standing so close to him freaked her out.

But her discomfort was unnecessary - someone was waiting for them at the Torii gate.

"This is goodbye, Utahime," Gojo said and stopped.

He looked down at her from his towering height and once again she was struck by how she had never seen his serious side before and that it scared her.

"Thank you," he said. He bent down and before she could shrink back, she felt his lips brush against her forehead, heard him draw in a quick breath, and… he was gone.

"Do you need my assistance, Utahime-Senpai?" Nanami called from the gate.

She shook her head, with her heart beating in her throat. She had been ready to walk all the way from the top of Mt. Hiei down to Kyoto, surely she could walk the few steps to where Nanami had parked his car? But now her legs were like rubber and it took a considerable effort not to make a fool of herself by falling on her ass.

"I'll take you to your apartment," Nanami said once she had safely reached his location, looking her over with a frown. "I slept in the car not far from here. That moron knew of course, he texted me half an hour ago to come assist you."

He also looked like he wanted to ask her what had happened but then discreetly decided against it. Utahime smiled at him and bowed in thanks with hands folded before her chest. Then, she bowed even more deeply because she didn't want Nanami to see the tears that were gathering in her eyes.

I want to forget but how can I? How will I be able to hate you again after this?

Having a soft spot for Gojo Satoru was going to be her undoing.