Gojo was so confused. How… Why… In what universe… How come he was kissing Utahime?!

He was, that much self-awareness he retained, deplorably drunk. That explained some things but not others. He managed to recall that it was her birthday, her thirtieth, in fact. He didn't quite remember how he had gotten to this room, nor exactly where he was. He was so drunk the world around him spun in wobbly circles, but at least he wasn't in much pain this time. It was quiet where they were, tranquil and dark, his eyes only overloaded on what was right before him - Utahime.

She had one hand buried in his hair, one hand on his naked chest. He wasn't sure where his shirt had gone, but he had dropped all his defenses as soon as she had reached for him, dangerous, but not with her, not here. The feeling of her fingers on his skin made him crave so much more, more of this touch, more of this feeling, more of her, all of her, to make it his and only his. It ached in his chest, this want. It was a yearning for something he, who had almost everything, had never had in his life.

Her lips were soft and tasted deliciously sweet. But it was a tentative, chaste kiss, a present he was allowed to give for a birthday that was almost over, something meant to be forgotten and never talked about again.

Chaste kisses were not Gojo's thing.

He only knew how to go all-in. He wanted to grab her with both hands, press that small delicious body against his, stroke and kiss her everywhere, feel and taste all of her, wanted to drink in her scent, hear the sounds she made when he pleasured her, maybe she'd say his name in the throws of passion, he really hoped she would, and he wanted to bury himself inside of her, as deep as possible, the ultimate joining, it wasn't possible to feel any closer to another human than that.

But….

There was an annoying voice in his head, of course it sounded exactly like Nanami, blaring a warning at him like a siren, insistent and loud. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

He understood. This… this was Utahime in front of him. One didn't just grab Utahime with both hands, even if one wanted to do this so very much. With Utahime, one had to proceed carefully because she was like a wary creature from a mystical forest - once spooked forever lost. With Utahime, one waited for an explicit invitation. This… this here, it wasn't going to go any further. Couldn't.

Fuck. Why do I have to be reasonable when I'm this drunk? Why? Why!

But he could rage all he wanted, he knew the answer. It had spooked him in December. It still spooked him now.

Reluctantly, Gojo forced his Infinity into place. Her fingers left his skin. Her hand left his hair. Utahime looked up at him, her eyes so bright and pretty, her lips very red.

Strawberries. She tasted like strawberry ice cream. He loved strawberry ice cream.

She took a step backwards. She took a deep breath. If she regretted anything, she didn't show it. Did she even know how beautiful she was in this outfit? The baggy red sweater hinted at a bosom to die for. The black jeans clearly outlined the shapeliness of her legs, and her tight, round little ass. He wanted her like he had never wanted anything before but... not here. Not now.

"Sing to me," he managed to stammer though he wanted to scream. "Can you?"

Utahime nodded. Gojo let himself fall onto the bed, the world spinning even more than before.

"My parents sleep right below this room," she whispered. "I will sing quietly, okay?"

Parents. Her parents. He remembered... He had come to her family's home to give her a present. Staying for dinner had not been part of his plan but as soon as he had stepped a foot into her home he had not wanted to leave again. Everything in this house was harmonious and welcoming, and even though he had never personally experienced it, he recognized what it was he saw: Utahime's parents loved each other, they loved her and she loved them.

"I got so drunk again," he heard himself say. He better not make this a habit around her. He pressed his eyes shut, the dizziness was overwhelming.

"Do you want an aspirin?" she asked. There was a smile behind her words.

An aspirin wouldn't help against where it hurt the most.

"Two," he said, forcing a smile upon his lips. "I want two."

She left the room quietly, her footsteps retreating down the stairs. There was a weird pressure behind his eyes, he didn't like it at all, and the world turned and turned around him, making him feel like he had missed the right moment to get off a carousel that was spinning out of control.

He had missed the right moment.

How many moments had he missed? Geto was gone, he had left such a huge gap in his life, his partner, his friend, he had missed the moment to talk sense into him, to make him stay on the right side. Every weakness, every hesitation, so many mistakes, the road he walked on was littered with them. Why… Why should it matter now? He had his defenses up, nothing could touch him, nothing should touch him but the weight of his responsibilities felt too heavy tonight.

Utahime came back, hesitant and cautious - of course, she had realized that she might be playing with fire, given his reputation. Good for her, because any other night at any other place this would have ended differently. Or not. Gojo pulled over the blanket folded neatly in the middle of the bed and covered himself with it. It was cold in this room but not for him, the Infinity shielded him. The blanket smelled faintly of her.

I am doomed, he thought.

"I'll sing you a lullaby," she whispered, after handing him two chewable aspirins and a bottle of water, "you need to rest."

Anything. He'd take anything from her and there was no bottom to this pit of emotions he had fallen into.

"Sweet dreams, Gojo."

Her voice began to weave a pattern of soothing calm around him. Each note a feather-light touch brushing away a worry. It took his entire willpower not to start bawling like a baby.

###

Utahime woke the next morning from the rain pelting loudly against the shutters of her window. The electric alarm clock showed her it was 8:34. Her head felt like it was going to split in two. Gritting her teeth, she reached for the bottle of water she liked to keep next to her bed and drank until she had flushed the foul taste from her mouth.

Oh shit. Gojo.

She shot upright, straining her ears to pick up sounds from the house. Nobody up yet? Her heart was racing. I kissed Gojo. By the heavens. It was much too embarrassing how she had thrown herself at him, forgetting that she did not even like him most of the time, and much worse, forgetting that Kenji had confessed that he had a serious crush on her a few weeks ago.

Utahime covered her face with her hands. Gojo stopped me from making a huge mistake. She wished she could say with certainty she would have stopped him at the right time had he not been the one to put his defenses back up. In what world was Gojo the sensible one and she the one losing reason? But the promise of that body, those hands, that power… She was, no use denying it, hugely attracted to him. Maybe she had always been, she had eyes and he was gorgeous. It was unfair to compare a normal human being to someone like Gojo Satoru.

Who, and that was perhaps the biggest problem, was different from the Gojo Satoru she had come to hate during school days - the current version was not unbearably arrogant, did not have no morals, and apparently cared about the consequences of his actions. Even when drunk.

Shit.

Utahime swung her legs out of bed and sniffed at herself - barely passable, but taking a shower while Gojo was in the house seemed... unsafe? What a silly thought, she chided herself, did she believe he would materialize in the shower with her? She washed herself with a washcloth instead, one ear trained at the ceiling to check whether he was already up. What would she say to him? Could she beg him not to tell anyone what had happened? Like she had never talked about the shrine. It didn't seem like the same magnitude, an aberrant kiss and a raging lunatic ancestor who had come close to killing him, but she had to make him understand that it had been a mistake, that it didn't mean anything, that she was not interested in him.

She kept repeating this in her head like a mantra once she left her room. But only her mother was up, quietly preparing breakfast in the kitchen. A Shijimi Miso Soup, the best remedy against hang-overs.

"Good morning, Okaa-chan," Utahime went to join her at the stove, put an arm around her middle and bent over the bubbling liquid to inhale its salty tartness. "I hope your head doesn't feel remotely like mine."

Her mother laughed, throwing her a fond look from the side. "I only had one small cup of sake. I know that you have to hide your cups and glasses away at the very beginning of a game night if you don't want to suffer for it. I'm not sure we'll see your dad before lunchtime."

Utahime's eyes fell on Gojo's huge bouquet of flowers. It was so massive it filled half the kitchen space. I invited him to come to baseball with me, Utahime remembered with a flutter in her stomach, I need to make sure he understands that it is just as colleagues. Men and women go to sports events together all the time and it means nothing.

"Is Gojo-san interested in you?"

Utahime flinched. The direction of her thoughts had been too obvious - these flowers did not look overly collegial. Was Gojo truly interested in her or just following a hunter's impulse? Begged the question which of the two she would find easier to deal with.

"He seems nice?" her mother added questioningly.

Utahime snorted. Gojo, nice? That wasn't an adjective she'd expected to hear in combination with his name from one of her parents. But it was indeed hard to find fault with his behavior last night. Apart from the fact that barging into someone's home uninvited was an absolute no go. And that politeness dictated that he should have let his hosts win occasionally.

"He was on his best behavior, he isn't always like this," she sighed.

"You know your father would have a hard time accepting you associating with that family…"

"We're not associating!" Utahime defended herself vehemently. Too vehemently perhaps. We're just kissing. No big deal.

"… but I know he'd grudgingly accept it."

"What?! Mother, what are you even saying, you are completely mistaken about this. Gojo Satoru is… he is…"

"I saw the way he looked at you," her mother resolutely ladled a bit of soup in her favorite bowl. "Is he younger than you?"

"It doesn't matter, mother," Utahime grumbled.

"It seems to me that you'd do well with a younger man who needs someone firm and steady to keep him in check."

"I'm already seeing someone!" Utahime blurted out. Oh no - she had not wanted to tell them. She had only just started going out with Kenji and she didn't even know how to feel about it yet.

Her mother looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh? That's good to hear. Then you should have brought that person here and kept Mr. Gojo out."

"He is… he is a non-sorcerer," Utahime began to spoon soup into her mouth too hastily, feeling her ears burn.

Her mother sighed.

Utahime had had that conversation before, not only with her mother. Most sorcerers, Shoko included, were of the opinion that relationships between sorcerers and non-sorcerers could not possibly work out. Shamans were not allowed to talk about the Jujutsu Society's secrets to those who were not a part of it. In short, non-sorcerers were to be kept ignorant about the world of curses. Granted, keeping this kind of secret from one's partner wasn't exactly a good basis for a trustful relationship. But she preferred ignorant men, always had. The Jujutsu world was a scary place. If she tried really hard, she could temporarily forget it existed when she was with a regular human.

"You could easily have brought him. We look like a completely normal family," her mother sat down opposite of her at the kitchen table. When Utahime looked up, she couldn't even see her mother's face because of all the flowers. "What does he do?"

"Hospitality industry," Utahime mumbled.

Her mother sighed again. That conversation they had had before as well. Do not always settle for men who are inferior to you. You need someone who challenges you, Uta.

"What would you like for lunch?" Her mother changed the topic abruptly. "Unadon?"

"Yes, please!" Utahime smiled thankfully. She was thirty years old as of yesterday. As much as she loved her mother, sometimes it was a little difficult to accept her parents' well-meant advice instead of telling them to mind their own business.

"He left this note," her mother said, pulling a piece of paper out of her apron pocket.

Note? Her mother shoved a folded piece of paper across the table. The handwriting was bold and energetic, she had no trouble guessing whose it was. "Dear Sir, Dear Madam," she read the formal address. "There is no way for me to express my gratitude for the warmth of your hospitality last night. You are truly blessed in life. With my wishes for you continuing health and happiness, sincerely, Gojo Satoru."

Gojo… had already left? When? She had sung to him until his breathing had become deep and regular and his features had relaxed, leaving him looking unguarded and very young. She had fervently wished for a night of good rest for him.

"Yeah," she swallowed and pushed the letter back across the table. "I told you he was at his very best behavior."

"He doesn't know about what happened?"

"No," Utahime shook her head. "He doesn't."

And she wished it would stay that way. Gojo's feud with his own family was bad enough, and she had a feeling he'd not appreciate hearing about some uncle's meddling with her family's business a decade ago.

She should be relieved he was no longer here because this way, she did not have to have an uncomfortable conversation with him. But… she was feeling... disappointed, somehow. Would he drop from the face of this earth again? Not that she had expected him to contact her after what had happened in his family's shrine. Stop… Wrong, it was exactly what she had expected. Maybe it was normal for him to get almost killed, it wasn't for her. Of course, someone like Gojo Satoru couldn't understand that she had been worried sick about him afterwards.

I don't even have his number. Does he have mine?

After thinking about what to do for hours, she finally called Nanami from the train on her way home to Kyoto, feeling both angry and foolish.

"Yes, Utahime Senpai? Is there a problem? It is Sunday and I am resting."

She had to smile at this preamble. "Hello, Nanami. I hear from Shoko that you were injured? Are you feeling better?"

A short pause. "Yes, thank you for asking," he answered somewhat stiffly. "I am mending well, but only thanks to Gojo's timely appearance. I'm not sure I would have made it out alive without him."

"Ah…," she cleared her throat. She hadn't expected Gojo's name to come up that fast. "Do you… do you know where Gojo is right now?"

"Yes, he is on a mission," Nanami answered immediately.

A… mission? In his condition?

"He was called in last night, after midnight. An emergency."

"What?" she gasped. Last night? But… he had been in no shape to fight!

"Special grade business," Nanami sighed. "They seem to multiply of late, we've never had so many before."

Utahime bit her lip. Not good. Not good at all. All day until leaving her parents' home, she had let her anger build, thinking Gojo had just gone home without even saying goodbye to her. But… a mission?

"Is someone with him?"

"No, Utahime Senpai, Gojo is always sent out alone unless it's for educational purposes. Which this is not. Is there a reason you ask?"

A reason?

"Er, well, I… I need to ask him something. About the Sister School Goodwill Event!"

"On a Sunday?" Nanami sounded displeased. "Ah, you don't have his number, is that it? But you cannot call him while he's on a job, it might distract him."

"Of course, of course," she nodded furiously. Why? Why might it distract him? Would he pull out a ringing phone while battling a curse?! "I'll wait until he's back."

But… How do I know when he's back?

"Do you know when, approximately,..."

"No," Nanami said curtly. "Special Grade exorcism can take up to a day or more, depending on how well versed in using evasive techniques the Curse is. But of course you know that, Senpai. I wish you a nice remainder of your weekend. I'll text you his number. Bye."

Utahime stared down on her phone and the string of numbers that appeared on it when Nanami made good on his promise. Should she call Shoko next? Would she know more? Not unless Gojo was lying in her morgue, probably. Was she being… foolish? Yes. No. Yes. Gojo wasn't like other sorcerers, right? He could fight Special Grade Curses even with only half his powers, yes? Then why could she not get the image of him bleeding all over the shrine floor out of her head?

Shortly before midnight, after trying to fall asleep unsuccessfully, she typed a text to him.

"This is Utahime. Gojo, are you alright? I heard you were sent on a difficult mission!"

No, that wasn't it. She changed the message to: "This is Utahime. Call me when you get back?"

No… this wasn't it either. She went for this next: "Hi, it's Utahime. Should we discuss the Sister School Goodwill Event?"

Oh gods, cringe, cringe, cringe. Maybe this one: "Hey, Gojo, I (Utahime) got your number from Nanami, can you contact me? We need to talk."

In the end, she deleted the message without sending it. They needed to talk? About what. Flowers? Kisses in her parents' attic room? Him not contacting her for 72 days? No. They did not need to talk. Her life was perfectly alright far, far away from him.

###

The next day, she went to school, feeling listless and irritated. Her students, picking up on her mood, tiptoed around her like she was made of porcelain. The rain the day before had washed away the serene beauty of the snow covered city, leaving everything looking tired and dirty. At lunch, she brought the letters on her desk to the post office, forgetting her umbrella, coming back looking like a wet poodle.

Her date with Kenji that evening was for an early dinner because he had to work the late shift. He took her to a Korean fried chicken place that smelled faintly of old frying oil.

"You did not have a good day?" He asked, frowning at her barely touched food. She had nibbled on a chicken wing but had found herself with no appetite. The faintly flickering lights made her feel disoriented and dizzy.

"Not really," she sighed. She knew she was bad company tonight. She felt sorry about it. Maybe she was PMSing, she felt slightly bloated and her skin was itchy.

"Problems with the students?" Kenji smiled at her. His dark brown eyes were slightly enlarged behind his glasses, giving him an owlish look. He only wore them when he wasn't working and switched to contacts during his shifts, even though he had told her he did not like wearing them much.

"Just not in a good mood, I'm afraid," she attempted a smile. "My students are sweethearts, it's not their fault."

"What did you say you're teaching at that strange school?"

Utahime sat a little straighter. Wasn't it too early in their relationship for Kenji to start prodding her about this?

"Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College is a school for the gifted," she attempted that smile again. "We prepare our students optimally for life."

"It's a high school called college?" Kenji took a piece of chicken from her plate and shoved it into his mouth.

"It's… both," she nodded, watching him chew.

"Then those are incredibly rich kids?"

"No," this was definitely not good. She knew what to say when non-sorcerers began to ask questions but it always meant trouble. "No, not necessarily. We have stipends for gifted children with no monetary means."

"I tried to find information about the selection process but there's nothing online. Nothing at all."

"We have talent scouts," Utahime's forced smile began to hurt. "We handpick them."

"Are you sure it's all legal?" Kenji looked at her moodily.

"Of course, Kenji," she dropped her smile. "But it's such a small school, we cannot advertise it too much."

"And that other guy… The one with the white crazy hair and the dark glasses. Did you say he was a teacher too?"

Oh no. Asking questions about her work was one thing - but asking questions about other Jujutsu Sorcerers… if the Society found out, they would send an agent to talk to her. This could get uncomfortable.

"Yes, he's a teacher, but he works in Tokyo. It's our sister school."

"I'm thinking you shouldn't work in a place that employs people like him."

"People like… him? What do you mean?"

"I saw him on Saturday."

"What!?" She was halfway out of her seat before she managed to control herself and sat her ass down again.

"Did he come all the way from Tokyo to see you on your birthday?"

"You saw Gojo? Where?!"

"At the bar," Kenji frowned. "Just briefly. I guess he was looking for you. I know you were with him later when I called. I'm not stupid."

"Okay," she took a deep breath. "Wait a minute. You called me to check whether I was with Gojo?"

"I did," Kenji narrowed his eyes on her. "And you lied. You told me it was just the radio."

"That is true. I shouldn't have done that." And if I'm going to tell you that he came to my parents' place and that I kissed him… you'll think the worst of me. Rightfully so, perhaps. "But Gojo and I…"

"Something is extremely fishy about him," Kenji leaned forward. "Who are these people in black following him everywhere?"

People in black following him? Apart from catching a very brief glimpse at them at the bar that night, she had never seen people in black. They had not been at the shrine but considering what she knew, they had to be in the employment of the Gojo Clan. Bodyguards perhaps?

"I'm not sure. Did you see them again?"

"Why? Is that important?" Kenji sounded angry now. "He is trying to intimidate me, but I have a black belt in Karate!"

She gasped. "Do NOT start a fight with Gojo, Kenji."

"Pah, I'm not afraid of him. He may be tall but he has no muscle mass!" The amount of uncontrolled cursed energy coming off him all of a sudden was like a fist to Utahime's already upset stomach.

"Stop now, Kenji," she pressed out. "Calm down. Gojo is a colleague. I told you."

"Oh, come now," he sneered. "You might think I'm stupid because I did not go to university? I'm not. You don't want to get intimate with me, you stiffen when I want to kiss you and I haven't even dared mention anything like second base."

"Huh? But we've only been going out for…"

"Three full weeks," Kenji angrily flicked his hand at her plate, making it rattle precariously. "I am a man, I don't only want to hold hands with you forever."

"I'd like to stop this conversation here," Utahime kept her voice very calm, it was an old reflex and the best defense against curses and irritated men. "I'm going home, I'm not feeling well."

"Yeah, alright," he took a deep breath but his cursed energy only increased in potency. "Call me when you're ready to commit. Don't come to the bar anymore until you are."

"Are you… are you breaking up with me?" Utahime was thunderstruck. How had they gone from "early dinner date" to this in so little time?

"Breaking up?" he snickered darkly. "How should that work when we were never really together, huh? Consider not sending the wrong signals next time, Utahime. That would make my life much easier."

###

It was silly to cry over a fight like this but she did a lot of crying on Monday night, on Tuesday several times throughout the day while hiding on the toilet, and on Wednesday out of the blue during a math class. She told her concerned students that her neighbor's cat had died.

Kenji did not call or text.

On the one hand, Utahime was plagued by the need to apologize to him. She had created a huge mess by letting Gojo get too close. She felt sorry about lying. Kenji deserved better, he had always been so friendly and happy to see her at the bar. They had good conversations, didn't they? He made her feel… normal.

On the other hand, it made her angry how much their fight in that awful chicken place hurt her. She felt like a piece of trash, which was typical: When something went wrong, she always put the entire blame on herself. But really? She should call him when she was ready to commit? She had been ready - but she needed a genuine emotional connection with somebody before she felt comfortable about getting intimate. Was that a crime? Sleeping with a man was not the same as commitment! So no, she wouldn't call him and he could go rot in hell.

On Thursday afternoon, she took the bullet train to Tokyo to meet with Shoko at five. While she watched the landscape fly by outside the train window, Utahime focused on finding her inner balance again. "It is about female problems," she had snapped at Gakuganji, when he demanded an explanation why she had to take time off. He could go rot in hell too.

"How's the non-sorcerer boyfriend?" was Shoko's first question after their enthusiastic greeting. They hadn't seen each other in person for several months, which wasn't unusual, given the doctor's busy schedule, but seeing her in the flesh made Utahime realize just how much she had missed her friend.

"There's… a bit of a problem," she admitted as they sat down at the small table with the fancy white tablecloth. "He wants… he wants to sleep with me."

"And that's a problem… why? Small dick?"

"Shoko!"

Shoko laughed heartily before a coughing fit stopped her. She had suggested they meet at a trendy café with the most ludicrously expensive cakes. It was full of beautiful, elegant, and probably wealthy people who had time to go and eat expensive cake in the middle of the afternoon.

"He claims I never committed and kept him at a distance," Utahime explained after telling the tall, well-built waiter what type of coffee she wanted (by just pointing at something that sounded interesting because really… how should she know what all of these things actually meant?)

"That's your style. Some men like it," Shoko observed matter-of-factly.

In contrast to Utahime, Shoko was aggressive in her pursuit of sexual adventures, trying out different partners in different constellations all the time. Her heart got broken at least three times a month but mended just as quickly because nothing got under her skin.

"That one doesn't," Utahime said unhappily. "He broke up with me."

"Pah, he'll come crawling back," Shoko made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Sounds like he's just a little impatient to see what you hide under that proper skirt of yours."

Utahime blushed deeply and quickly hid her face behind her hands.

"Sounds to me he learnt as a child that temper tantrums get him what he wants faster. When did he 'break up' with you?"

"On Monday."

"Then you can expect to hear from him today," Shoko said and pulled her out of her chair to go select a piece of cake from the vitrine.

"Maybe there's another problem," Utahime admitted in hushed tones once they sat back down. Their fancy coffees were waiting for them on the table. There was a ton of cream in hers.

"You're pregnant?"

"Shoko, stop," Utahime giggled. "No, it's… he asked questions."

"Hm," Shoko sighed dramatically. "I'm having a deja-vu."

"They usually don't get this curious this fast," Utahime defended herself. "He asked about the school."

"And you gave him the standard answers, I hope."

"Yes, of course. But he also… he also asked about Gojo."

"Excuse me, what? GOJO?"

"Shhhh," Utahime put a finger to her lips, "they've met each other."

"This is getting interesting," Shoko shoved a huge load of cake into her mouth. "I get it. Am I correct to assume that your non-sorcerer got impatient about getting under your skirts because he feels threatened by one tall, gorgeous, insanely rich, insanely insane sorcerer who doesn't shut up talking about you?"

Utahime just sighed. She felt so miserable.

"I thought you hated him," Shoko observed. "You've always avoided Gojo like cats avoid water."

"Yes," Utahime sighed again. "I know."

"Have you guys been meeting in secret?" Shoko's tired eyes grew round with sudden suspicion. "You wouldn't keep something as monumental as that from me, your best friend, would you?!"

"No, no, it's not that. I guess it's… it's complicated."

"Oh. Tell me ALL about it," Shoko gasped.

And Utahime did - careful not to reveal anything about the Gojo family's involvement, the shrine, nor about kissing a certain tall, gorgeous, insanely rich and insanely insane person just a few days ago. Which made for the weirdest, nonsensical story she had ever told anybody.

"Oh sweetie, you are worried about him?" Shoko cooed. "I haven't seen him recently, but he is only ever sent on ultra dangerous missions. He's untouchable. He can heal himself unless someone cuts his entire head off. And maybe even then, who knows."

"Don't you think it's a little … unfair? The way he is… used."

"Unfair?" Shoko laughed. "If you want to talk about unfairness, then blame the universe for making him this strong. Why should we not use our best weapon as much as we can?"

"He's human," Utahime blurted out.

"Barely," Shoko chuckled. Then she suddenly grew serious. "You aren't in love with him, are you?"

Utahime gasped. In love…? She wasn't. Was she? No way!

"No, I just worry about him," she mumbled.

"Don't let him know. He's already too full of himself. I don't want to experience how big his head gets when he finds out you of all people have fallen under his spell too!"

"I know," Utahime looked at the sad remnants of her once beautiful slice of cake: She had repeatedly stabbed her fork into it without realizing. "But that's not the problem here. The problem is Kenji who thinks he can take on Gojo."

"Make sure to invite me to the show and tell them to take their shirts off."

"I'm serious, Shoko! Kenji will get hurt!"

"Good, then you can use your kind hands to heal him afterwards. Or - if you change your mind, let him bleed to death in a ditch and come celebrate with me. Don't you waste your time with someone who doesn't appreciate you, okay? And remember to look for red flags? Like I taught you?"

"He is normally a very nice guy, I will call him today," Utahime smiled a little at her friend. It felt like the right decision. "At the very least, we should talk things out some more. I will just have to make sure he stops asking questions about the Society."

They ate more and drank more fancy coffee and chatted about this and that and that and this, until Utahime's heart felt light for the first time this week. Unfortunately, she had a train to catch at half past eight and their farewell came much too quickly.

"One last piece of advice from me, dear Utahime," Shoko said in front of the subway station. She looked very serious. "I've known Gojo for many years. He is…," she took a deep breath. "He is my friend but quite frankly, he scares me sometimes. It should be warning enough that Geto was the one keeping him sane before he lost his own marbles completely. It is not easily apparent, but there is a lot of darkness in Gojo, a lot - and I sometimes don't know… You are too good a person, Utahime. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Yes," Utahime smiled at Shoko, touched by her concern. "I know all that, Shoko. You don't need to worry, I don't plan to see him again soon."

She was almost back home at her apartment in Kyoto when she got a message from Kenji.

"I'm sorry about the fight. Can we meet? I miss you."

Utahime smiled at the display. Why did this feel like a triumph - was she a bad person?

"Miss Iori?"

The shock of being addressed from the shadows of a house entrance made her flinch so violently, her phone fell from her hand and hit the pavement with an ugly sound.

Sorcerers. Several. The streetlight was dim but sufficient to reveal they were clad in dark clothes. Agents come to investigate her connection to a non-sorcerer? This late at night?

"Who are you?" She moved into a defensive stance.

"Please do not put up any resistance," the one at the front said. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

"Sure," Utahime forced herself to calm down. "Sure," she repeated. "I'm sure this won't take long?"

"That depends," the leader said ominously.