Utahime was shaking. It had to be the shock, not the cold, because however close he held her, and however much he rubbed her arms and back, her teeth didn't stop chattering.

"Almost there," Gojo soothed her.

He teleported in several intervals since he couldn't be sure how much she still hated it after what had happened last time, thinking that stops during which she could breathe the fresh night air would help ease any discomfort she might feel. He also took extra great care to make the transitions as smooth as possible, which was a bit of a challenge because both his hands were wrapped around her body and he kind of needed those for finesse.

She didn't say a thing about any of it, which disquieted him almost more than the shivering. She was probably in pain, but she wasn't crying. Her clothing was in disarray, her stockings were ripped, her skin was skinned in several places. Her hands were bloody. They had hit her in the face. She was hiding it against his chest, but he could still see the bruises become more visible with every minute that passed, one eye was swelling up, her lip was split and thick.

Gods, he could barely stop himself from acting on this burning rage he felt. He wanted to punish every single person who had known about this and if it meant killing his entire Clan! But since he did not want to leave her alone in the condition she was in, he tried to keep his rage contained, tried to store it away somewhere where it wouldn't burst out at an inopportune moment, but somewhere he could reach it the next time he stood in front of the people he wished he didn't share any blood with.

It started drizzling when they were about half-way. His Infinity protected him from the weather - at the cost of his body heat not reaching her so he switched it off.

"You'll get wet," she murmured, the first thing she said after telling him to take her home. "Idiot."

The dampness of the rain settled on his hair, weighed it down, sent rivulets of water down his skin. Gojo shielded her small body from the wetness as best he could, re-balancing her inconsequential weight. Promptly, she put her arms around his neck, trying to lessen his burden by hoisting herself up.

"I can stand," she lied, "I'm too heavy for you."

Too heavy? Funny that. She weighed almost nothing but it felt that what he held in his arms was heavy nonetheless, because her frail, battered vulnerability weighed on his soul.

What had happened to her was all his fault.

Gojo got annoyed with fictional characters who took the blame for the world's woes and then acted as noble idiots as a result. In those stories, it was so obvious it was never the characters' fault because there was no way they could have prevented all the bad things from happening. This though? This was different. He could very well have prevented this. He could have looked a little closer at the incident in December instead of letting himself be drawn into a whirlwind of missions and other duties. He should have realized those worms would try again instead of believing they were smart enough to realize they stood no chance against him. He should have pulverized his relatives instead of punishing just some of the most prominent members lightly. Bottom line was, he should have thought like they did. He should have realized what his weakness was.

Wrong. He looked at the woman in his arms: Not a weakness. He had no weaknesses. But he should have been smart enough to realize they would think he had a weakness. Bottom line was: Taking Utahime to the shrine on his birthday had been a mistake. It was all his fault, he felt guilty and angry as hell but… the worst part of it was this: having a truly lousy personality, he would do it again tomorrow. And again. And again. Utahime singing his Ancestor into submission was by far the best thing that had happened to him in the last ten years or so.

Hm. Gojo looked down at Utahime again. No wonder she always got so angry with him.

Once, a woman he had enjoyed spending time with had hurled at him: "You're bad luck, you're like a curse yourself, you self-centered bastard, you don't even realize what effect you have on the people around you!" Maybe that was true because her outburst and subsequent dramatic exit had baffled him. Was he really that bad? He forgot what day it was and he forgot his appointments. He was self-centered, hyper-focused, and negligent. It could not be denied that people he cared for either died or left him. He could never quite shake the nagging feeling that his parents had died because of him. He was… maybe he was a bad person.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you're mistaken," Utahime said. "You're not to blame. Put me down."

They were in front of her house. The streetlights had been switched off, it was very dark in the neighborhood. It was probably past midnight already. Gojo complied with her wish and put her down. After only a few seconds, Utahime's knees buckled. He swooped her up again without a comment.

"The door isn't locked," she mumbled, sounding utterly embarrassed. "I live on the second floor."

The door wasn't locked? He sucked in his breath - outrageously careless!

"It's a safe neighborhood," she added defensively.

Safe? Until a bunch of ruffians on a Gojo payroll came along! Surely it wasn't normal that a young woman didn't lock her door!? Feeling indignant, he carried her up the rickety stairs and opened the door to her place with his elbow, wedging himself through the narrow entrance. He removed his boots, no need to use his hands for that, and walked forward in his socks. Light switch? He found one.

Her apartment was tiny but he immediately loved it. Everything was personal, from the plants on shelves and in the windows, the huge bookshelves crowding the walls, the photos of her family, the pictures on the walls depicting serene nature motives. Gojo put her down on the threadbare red sofa and began to wrap blankets around her.

"My shoes," she said unhappily, sounding so exhausted it made his anger flare up again.

He kneeled down to remove her boots. Gojo had never noticed she wore heels and he puzzled over her real height as he pulled them off her feet. Tiny feet in dark stockings. Quickly, he stuffed a blanket around them because they were ice cold to the touch.

"I will get Shoko," he told her, standing up. The ceiling was so low he felt the need to duck his head.

"No!" she squealed, "not Shoko!"

Why? Had they had a fight? Gojo frowned down at her, trying to decide what to do next. She needed a doctor, those bruises looked painful and he wasn't quite sure what the rest of her body looked like. What if they had…?

"I'm okay," she told him, trying to sit up. "Don't look at me like that."

"Have they…," he swallowed. "Have they… touched you… you know."

She colored deeply. "Oh no, no. Not that. They were just… a little rough."

"I killed them," he felt a deep satisfaction at that, however small a consolation it may be. He had used purple, that's how angry he had been.

"Yes," Utahime took a deep breath. "Yes. Thank you for coming to save me, Gojo. I really appreciate it. Will you be in trouble?"

He didn't quite understand what she meant but shook his head. No. Trouble was not something he associated with. But… they needed to have this conversation about what it all meant, he needed to decide what to do next, but everything about it made him feel uncomfortable.

"Do you want… tea?" He asked to stop himself from feeling so awkward.

"Oh," she looked surprised. "Yes. Yes, I'd like some tea. It's in the second cupboard from the right."

Glad to have something to do, Gojo went over to her tiny kitchen space, located the water boiler and filled it with fresh water. The cupboard she had indicated contained a large selection of teas. He studied them while the water came to a boil. She needed something soothing for the night. A green tea… Hojicha.

"If you are hungry, there are cookies there too," she called.

He found them in a tin can and compulsively stuffed one of the triangle shaped cookies into his mouth. Butter cookies. Self made? He loved them. He took three more, then rubbed his sleeves against his damp hair until it stopped dripping. He switched off the water before it boiled and poured it over the tea leaves he had put into a cast iron teapot. Utahime had a selection of cute animal shaped tea cups lined up on a shelf: He chose a panda bear for her and took a cat for himself.

The rain, he noticed when walking back to where she waited, had intensified, it was battering against her windows with force.

He put the cookies and the two cups on the little table in front of the sofa. Her pale, bruised face peered out at him from among the blankets he had draped around her.

"I might have done something really stupid," she admitted tearfully.

"Don't think about it," he replied, holding a cookie towards her. "Eat a cookie."

He shoved it towards her lips and she dutifully opened her mouth. Fascinated, he watched her chew. But then, tears began to gather in her large, beautiful eyes. It felt like a punch to the gut. Oh no. Oh no, no, no…

"Please don't cry, Utahime," he urged her, moving next to her to gather her in his arms again. "It will be alright, I promise."

But the little bundle he held shook with the force of her grief and he sat there helplessly, feeling the wetness from her tears seep through his already damp shirt, finally pulling her into his lap to rock her like a child.

"I'm so very sorry," he murmured into her hair. "You can hit me if you want, even if you hit very hard, I won't defend myself."

Maybe she hadn't heard him? She just continued to cry pitifully, making his heart clench painfully. Finally, she grew still, her face resting against his shoulder. At least she was no longer cold, her blanket-wrapped body was as hot as a freshly filled yutanpo. While he agonized after what to say to her, her breathing grew deep and regular and her body relaxed. Gojo didn't dare to move even the tiniest muscle: Utahime had fallen asleep in his lap.

The two mugs on the table emitted steam for a while then stopped when the tea turned cold. The rain abated. Utahime slept on. There was solace in not thinking at all. Gojo's eyes grew heavy. He put his head back onto the sofa's backrest and fell asleep too.

###

Thought number one: Everything hurts. Followed by: I really don't want to wake up, my bed is so warm and comfortable today…

… today was… Utahime jerked upright, ramming her knee into something soft. … Friday! Damnation, she had to…

"Ouch," someone groaned.

Cold air hit her body when her blankets slipped. Everything hurt even more. Utahime opened her eyes and gritted her teeth. It was already light outside. What…

Gojo's face appeared in her blurry vision. She blinked more of the sleep from her eyes. What…?!

"Go…jo?" she squealed.

She was cuddled up against him, the entire length of his long, solid, warm body, his arms slung protectively around her, holding her close like a precious doll. At which point all the memories came rushing back. She gasped, remembering her kidnapping, the shrine, the rescue. She felt a rush of embarrassment so deep she wanted to bolt and hide in her bedroom underneath her covers for the rest of her life. But… She stared into Gojo's amazing blue eyes with the silver-white lashes that looked like they were sprinkled with stardust.

"Utahime," he looked as confused as she felt. His blindfold had dislodged and his hair was sticking up in all directions. "How are you feeling?"

Did he not think it was time to remove his arms from around her body? Utahime wiggled backwards - and almost fell off the sofa. He pulled her closer again. How had they… her face had to be as red as a tomato. Why were they lying on the sofa together?!

"Don't get the wrong idea," she blurted out, feeling utterly mortified at how aware she was of his body, "this isn't…"

"Hm?" He stretched his back. "Isn't what? Oh, you mean I shouldn't go around boasting that we slept together?"

"Gojo," she stammered, turning even redder, "I'm sorry about all of this. Yesterday, I was… I really was… it was..."

He just looked at her stammering and blushing. Then the corners of his luscious lips turned up a little. "Ah, no need to feel embarrassed. I don't kiss and tell."

He finally let go of her and sat up, raking his big hands through his messy hair, pulling the blindfold down over his eyes. Then he stretched properly, the cracking and popping sounds from his joints and spine made her wince. The sofa was much too small for someone as tall as him, he must be so tense!

She threw a glance at the clock on the wall - 9.25am.

"Shiiiiiit!" She squealed, shooting upright. "I should have been at the school over an hour ago!"

Gojo turned his head towards her. "You're not going to work today."

"But I…"

"I forbid it," he whisked out his phone. "I'll call Gakuganji."

"N…no!" She made a grab for his phone. "No, please don't."

He just held it over his head out of her reach, frowning. "Utahime, you are in no shape to go to work."

"Yes," she nodded. "But please…"

"Ah," Gojo smiled wryly. "You don't want ME to call him, I get it. Oh, wait…" He put his hand into the back pocket of his black uniform. "Here. I picked up your phone yesterday."

She felt such relief she forgot to thank him, how silly. Her phone was dead though. Or broken? The screen was cracked. She cradled the device to her chest and felt like crying again. What a thoroughly shitty week: the phone was barely a year old.

"I'll… I'll charge it, maybe the battery is empty," she swallowed.

"Yeah," he said, "it buzzed against my bum just this morning."

"Oh," she stood up. "That's good. I'm…"

To her mortification, she staggered and he shot upright to catch her. Uff. A woman could get used to this much solid male strength cradling her to himself. So a woman better bring some distance between herself and said male. No use denying that being this close to Gojo did things to her brain, things she didn't know how to deal with.

"Just lie down and don't move all day," he said above her, sounding a little angry.

"I want to take a shower," she disengaged herself. "I'm filthy. You can… you can eat everything you find in the fridge, you must be hungry."

She didn't look at him as she gingerly made her way across her tiny living room into her bedroom. Her knees felt like rubber. Not looking at herself in the mirror, she first plugged her phone in, then chose a pink tracksuit ensemble from her wardrobe and fresh underwear and a white shirt from her drawer. One ear cocked in the direction of the living room, Utahime heard Gojo rummage around in the kitchen. Good. He would be preoccupied for a bit.

She stepped into her bathroom and began to shed her clothes. When she finally did look in the mirror, she gasped in horror. There wasn't a part of her that wasn't bruised or bloodied. And her face! Tears shot into her eyes. One eye swollen shut, a huge yellow bruise on her right cheek, a thick lip… embarrassment gripped her again. This horror was what Gojo had seen first thing this morning? She turned away in disgust and stepped into the shower.

The boiler in this building wasn't the best, it took a while for the water to heat up and it didn't stay hot nearly long enough, but she managed to carefully sponge off the worst of the blood and grime and wash her hair before it turned cold. She put some salve onto the various cuts and abrasions she had, took a painkiller, wrapped her hair in a towel, and put on her fresh clothes. Everything else went into the washing basket though she wasn't sure she would be able to get the stains out of her white top herself. Maybe she'd just throw it in the bin later.

She checked on her phone - thank god, it was charging! She stroked over the broken screen… maybe it would last a few more weeks. Ah, and something smelled delicious! Gojo was cooking? Feeling a little shy, she stepped out of her room, right into a room full of deluxe breakfast smells.

"I made pancakes!" Gojo beamed at her from behind the stove when he heard her tentative footsteps. "And coffee."

Of course, Gojo knew how to cook, what else? His pancakes were likely the most delicious thing she had ever eaten too, what else.

"I wasn't sure you like them sweet, so there are two types," he informed her. "For the savory ones, I'm making bacon and poached eggs. I found some chocolate for the sweet ones, and I'm making a ganache."

Her tiny table had already been set with mugs and cutlery. Maybe I'll just keep you here, Utahime caught herself thinking. Gojo Satoru can cook for me every morning and every night. Does he know how to clean too?

He winked at her as if he could read her mind and she blushed. Player, she huffed, feeling very flustered. She sat down at the table and watched him work, all graceful, fluid movements, his blindfold around his neck, his hair still tousled several degrees more than usual. He had gotten wet last night, she recalled, were his clothes still damp? She didn't dare ask, because he was capable of taking his clothes off right here, in her kitchen … Oh dear. She swallowed. Don't think of him without his clothes on. Just don't.

"One each?" he asked.

"Uhm," she stammered, but he meant pancakes of course, "yes. Please."

He brought her a plate with two beautifully arranged stacks of pancakes, it looked and smelled delicious. He filled her cup with coffee. "Milk?" he asked. She nodded mutely.

Gojo sat down opposite of her, tucking his long legs to the side so he wasn't bumping knees with her.

"That's… a lot of pancakes," she stared at the large pile on his plate.

"I'm famished. Using my powers does this to me. But I will replace everything in your fridge," he said, his eyes trained on the tower of pancakes as he licked his lips, "don't worry."

"Oh no, you don't have to!" she quickly assured him. He looked up and their eyes met.

"But I want to," he grinned. "That will give me an excuse to come back here."

There was a smudge of batter on his cheek. She wanted… to lick it off. Get a fucking grip, Utahime. She looked away, remembering her hideous disfigurement, remembering that Gojo was known to be friendly with everyone he tolerated around himself, a big jovial goofball to have fun with, or rather, the most annoying, bothersome shaman in the world.

… who bowed low in front of his Ancestor… for me?

They ate in silence, Utahime was grateful because she felt deeply troubled. She had managed to forget for a bit, but she had bargained with a powerful Vengeful Spirit only a few hours ago and she had a very bad feeling about it. Tell Gojo or not? The complications…

"You don't like them?" Gojo asked.

"What?" She looked down on her temporarily forgotten plate. "No! Those are the best pancakes I ever had."

"Really?!" He smiled so broadly she almost fell off her chair from the dazzling force of it.

"I was just thinking…," Utahime swallowed. I made a mistake. I didn't even have time to think. I should have known better, it's one of the first lessons we teach the kids. No. She didn't want to tell Gojo about his ancestor and the binding vow. At least not yet. "Hey, so you were sent on a mission last Sunday?"

"Why, were you worried?" He joked.

Utahime just pressed her lips together. She didn't even know why she had asked that, she already knew.

"You were worried?" Gojo frowned a little as if that surprised him. "Wait… did you wait for me to contact you?"

"What!?" Utahime blinked at him, feeling called out.

"Nanami told me you asked for my number! But then, you obviously never called. He said that's what women do, they wait for the man to contact them. Is that true?"

"Not at all," she lied smoothly.

"Oh," he pouted. "I knew Nanami had no clue about such things, the annoying braggart."

They continued eating. Gojo's tower of pancakes disappeared at record speed. He looked content, like a cat who had emptied a bowl of cream, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his coffee. And then suddenly, he got that look and Utahime braced herself for trouble.

"Here is something I don't understand," he said slowly. "What changed Michizane Sugawara's mind last night? Why did he kill my cousin instead of me?"

You knelt down in front of your ancestor, ready to die? For… me?! Impossible. She had to be mistaken. He had not known that.

"I thought they had poisoned me the first time," Gojo continued his musing. "Which maybe, they did anyway. But it is that place, his innate domain, it strips me of my powers. I didn't know such a thing existed. There must be a way around it, I'm sure… but I haven't figured it out yet."

"It's the case for all his descendants, he told me."

"Did he?" Gojo's eyebrows moved up. "Ha, I thought you looked quite chummy together."

"Don't ever go back there," she begged. "He doesn't like you at all."

"It's my family's shrine," Gojo grinned. "Of course I will go back. And if only to gloat that half of it is gone - cause I don't like him either. But I get the uncomfortable feeling that he likes you."

Their eyes met again. I have to tell him. Now.

"That's bullshit," Utahime heard herself say instead. "Just look at me."

"Oh yes," Gojo's grin faltered. "I'm looking. And believe me, I've been looking for a while."

"I'm disfigured!" It burst out of her. "Don't look at me!"

"What?" He frowned. "Don't be stupid, Utahime. You're beautiful. Very beautiful."

Beautiful…? Her mouth stood open, so she closed it. Why was he saying that? To comfort her?

"I have eyes," she said defiantly.

"My eyes are better," he retorted, sounding utterly serious.

She stared at him, robbed of words. Why was it suddenly hard to breathe? He was serious? What did that mean?

But she couldn't puzzle it out because Gojo's Infinity suddenly came on, she could actually hear it, a quick, intense buzzing that left an electrical feeling in the air. The next second, the door to her apartment sprung open and Kenji stormed in, without taking his shoes off.

"Utahime!" he exclaimed, "why the fuck are you…"

He stopped mid-sentence, standing frozen before them.

"What," he gasped for air. "Is. This…?"

"It's exactly what it looks like," Gojo said evenly and put his blindfold over his eyes, "but not at all what you think."

"You…!" Kenji gasped again. "You… bastard!"

"Kenji, no!" Utahime squealed, but too late. Kenji had already jumped forward, swinging, aiming a right hook at Gojo's head.

"You cannot hit me," Gojo informed him jovially, just as his own fist connected with Kenji's chin.

Kenji was ripped off his feet, flying backwards like an awkward ragdoll, landing on his back with a thump, followed by another thump when his head connected with the floor. He didn't come back up.

"Oups," Gojo frowned unhappily. "I didn't even hit him that hard?"

"You shouldn't have hit him at all!" Utahime screamed at him, "he is a non-sorcerer!"

"I am truly sorry," Gojo walked over to kneel down next to the motionless Kenji. "I have never hit a non-sorcerer before, I didn't know they're that weak. He's alive though."

"Out!" Utahime pointed her finger at the door. "Now!"

"But…"

"I said out," she said with emphasis, still pointing.

Gojo looked so contrite she felt sorry she had shouted at him for a moment, but she could not allow him to be around when Kenji woke up, this was already bad enough.

"Yes, you're right. Bye, Utahime," Gojo lifted a hand before he walked out the door with a lopsided grin.

… leaving behind a strange feeling of hollow emptiness and regret.

"Damn this," she swore under her breath, grabbing a pillow from the sofa to put underneath Kenji's head. He moaned, his eyelids fluttered. "Kenji? Kenji, can you hear me?"

She gently slapped his cheeks until Kenji opened his eyes. His hand flew to his chin and he groaned loudly.

"Stay down," she told him. "You might have a concussion."

"Where's that fucking bastard!" Kenji winced and sat up. "I will trash him until he can't move!"

"No, you won't," Utahime sighed and sat down on the sofa, feeling spent and depressed.

"I was wondering why you did not answer any of my messages!" he seethed, "now I know."

Messages? Oh. She hadn't switched the phone back on, it was still charging.

"Ah, no. That's not what happened. You know, my phone…"

"You lying bitch," Kenji's eyes watered. "I told you last night I was sorry! But I should have known that you were cheating on me all this time!"

"I wasn't cheating exactly. But maybe I should have," Utahime said icily.

"Did he hit you? I didn't know you liked that kind of thing! You should have told me, I am sure I would have loved it."

"You may leave now," she said, standing up. "I see you're okay. In case you feel any dizziness, go see a doctor."

"You don't tell me what to do!" He staggered in her direction and she moved into a defensive stance just in case. Kenji stalled, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. "We are so over! So over!"

"Yes," she said. "We are. You know, I thought we could make this work. I thought you were a nice guy. Shame. Don't know why I always get it so wrong."

For a moment, it looked like Kenji wanted to hit her for real, but whatever he saw in her eyes made him change his mind. "Slut," he said instead, his voice dripping with contempt as he turned on his heel and stormed out of her apartment, "you dirty, ugly slut."

Bam went the door.

Utahime stood in the middle of her apartment, breathing in, breathing out, trying to feel like a rock, a tree, a mountain. This cannot touch me, she thought. One person's ugly words mean nothing. He is just hurt. Disappointed. Very upset. I would have come to the same conclusion as him. He'll be sorry. Maybe he'll apologize. Not… not that I care.

She looked over to the table with its dirty dishes and half-empty cups. She was such an idiot.

Utahime cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen. Then, she went into her bedroom and switched on her phone.

10 missed calls: 4 from Kenji, 2 from Shoko, 4 from Gakuganji. Also, 13 messages: 12 from Kenji, one more aggressive than the other. She deleted all of them. The only one she didn't delete was the one from Gojo, sent last night.

"I really need to see you, please don't say no. I'm in front of your house."

"Oh, Gojo," she sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

She sent an email to Gakuganji, keeping it vague but making it clear she was in no condition to come to work. Then, she tried to read a book, but had to put it away after only a few pages. She felt like crying but didn't allow herself that weakness. She went to the bathroom, removed the towel and brushed her hair until it shone, then put in a white ribbon.

At 12 o'clock sharp, someone rang the doorbell.

Utahime put aside the feather duster, cleaned her hands on her apron and went to open.

At her doorstep stood one tall, gorgeous, sober looking sorcerer with white hair, holding two full bags of groceries in her direction.

"Hi, Utahime," Gojo said. "I came to bring you the groceries I took from your fridge and a few more."

She felt a rush of something that set her heart to hammering like crazy at the sight of him.

"Hello, Gojo," she smiled up at him as she took the heavy bags from him. "Why don't you come in?"

"Are you… sure?"

"Yes," she said, opening the door wide with her foot. "I felt bad for sending you away."

"You did?" He beamed down at her. "Is he gone?"

"Yes," she said. "He is gone and won't come back."

"Oh," he took off his shoes and walked in after her. "I'm sorry. Okay, that's a lie. I'm not sorry. I didn't like him at all."

Utahime laughed, putting the bags onto the kitchen counter.

"Have a look at what I bought!" Gojo gushed. "I have no idea what kind of food you like so I took a bit of everything. And I can get more of everything you want."

She turned around. He was standing right behind her, excited like a child.

"Hey," she said. "I know I shouldn't… ask this of you. It's… it's needy. And maybe stupid. But… you know, what you said before Kenji came barging in. That I am…"

"Beautiful," Gojo breathed, reaching out his hand to cup her cheek. "So beautiful."

"Thank you," she said, feeling tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

Utahime went up on her tiptoes, put a hand around Gojo's neck and pulled his face down to hers. He sucked in his breath in shocked anticipation, and that little sound got her right in the heart. She put her lips on his, gingerly, because it hurt a little. He responded in kind. Soft. So soft and tender.

I don't know why I always get it so wrong, Utahime thought, burying her hands into his hair. Pleased to meet you, Gojo Satoru. Will you let me get to know you a little better?