"...And then, Yaga said: 'Satoru, you can walk, you can talk, and that means you're fine. I need you back at school yesterday.' Would you believe it? He is a truly heartless man and I…"

While he continued complaining, Gojo's hand sneaked forward to grab one of the pretty cupcakes that were tempting him from their cardboard box on the kitchen table. In the soft morning light filtering through the white drapes, they shone pale-pink like Utahime's skin.

"Stop it!" she swatted his hand away. He rocked back in his chair cradling his stinging hand.

"But I'm hungry, Utahime," Gojo whined.

"No, you can't be hungry," she scolded him, closing the lid of the box resolutely and moving it out of his reach. "You just had a huge breakfast."

"What? I'm famished!"

In many ways, actually: His eyes locked on her body. She was wearing casual clothes today, dark green slacks and a navy-blue T-Shirt that was a little too big for her and revealed parts of her right shoulder. She looked beautiful with her hair tied up in a ponytail, one of his ribbons floating on top of her head. He liked it. All of it. But then, she could wear a sack and he'd like it. Or… wear nothing. That he liked above everything.

"Satoru," she frowned at him, interpreting the look in his eyes correctly. "Not now. We're almost ready to go."

Not now.

Gojo pouted. He had heard her say that a lot recently, hadn't he? He knew he wasn't the most self-aware person on the planet, but he did realize that those frequent rebuffs had begun to sting. He leaned back on the wooden chair and moodily watched her put butter, mayonnaise and ham on toast bread. Not now. Then when? He wasn't getting enough of her. He had tried hard to overcome the strange distance between them. Nothing worked.

After his release from the hospital five days ago, he had gone straight to Utahime's apartment. That little bit of teleporting had tired him out so thoroughly, he had collapsed on her couch and hadn't moved for two hours, his arm thrown over his eyes to block out as much of the world as possible.

She hadn't asked any questions and he had stayed the night. They had slept in each other's arms, the first time in a while he was unbothered by gory nightmares. Utahime had left for work the next morning and he had eventually gotten himself out of bed, moving from her bedroom to the kitchen, where he just sat for hours, looking out of her window at budding leaves, birds in breeding mood, and lazily drifting clouds. After getting around to drinking a pot of coffee with a very generous amount of sugar, he felt slightly more energetic. But what to do with himself? There was no playstation at Utahime's apartment, she didn't even have a TV. No Mangas. Books…? Yes, a lot of serious stuff about culture and history, and some novels about non-sorcerer with fucked up lives. There was some poetry he tried to read, several times in fact. But… nah, not his thing. He remembered forgetting to give her the book about origami and obsessed about remembering where he might have put it. He was that close to leaving her apartment to go look but in the end didn't because if he was seen by Yaga? He'd have to do a lot of explaining.

At six o'clock, Utahime was still not back. He began to obsess about texting or calling her but for some weird reason, he felt reluctant to remind her that he was waiting at her apartment. Of course, it was old fart Gakuganji's fault she couldn't come home earlier. Utahime, bone-tired and pissed off, had frowned at Gojo when he had ripped open her door to welcome her back - but the ramen he had ordered from one of Kyoto's best noodle shops had restored her spirits (though they lost quite a bit of their allure after being reheated in the microwave).

Gojo vigorously cleaned her whole apartment the next day after she had left for work, wearing pink rubber gloves several sizes too small for him. He washed their clothes in her tiny washing machine, sitting in her bathroom naked, watching her colorful slippers tumble round and round together with his boxers. He tried some of her lip gloss in front of the mirror, settling on the one with the faint pink hue. He cooked a meal with the ingredients she had in her fridge and watched her eat it that evening, his heart skipping happily when she said she liked it.

The next day, he borrowed an old laptop of hers and smartened up about financial matters through a series of online tutorials. His banker in Zurich had become several degrees less friendly when he had shown disinterest in continuing last year's bedroom activities. His distrust awakened, he had decided to get himself involved in the administration of the Gojo family fortune. It was a major undertaking, but he had time now. Finally!

It didn't bother him that Utahime never once talked about what had happened to him, quite the opposite. There was nothing to discuss. He was relieved he had been pushed from his pedestal. Even the strongest eventually failed and it was high time the Jujutsu Society adapted their expectations of him. Truth be told, in the quiet world of Utahime's small apartment, he soon felt better than he had in ages. His eyes were fine, reality was clearly discernible as such, and the longer he didn't need to use his powers, the more collected he felt. The future suddenly held endless possibilities.

There was only one thing that repeatedly bugged him during the long hours of waiting for Utahime to return from work: Why had she never really acknowledged his question? Had she forgotten about it like he had told her to? Did she think once more he wasn't serious? Or did she not want to be together for the rest of their lives…? Frankly, the longer her silence lasted, the more the uneasy feeling grew that maybe, his need for her was not matched by her need for him.

He had no idea how to deal with that.

Be it as it may, her suggestion to go on a picnic this Sunday had truly delighted him. He'd never been on a picnic before in his life! She hadn't wanted to believe that, but she had grown up under normal circumstances. Normal people went on picnics with their families. People like him didn't.

"Stop fidgeting", Utahime scolded him, wrapping their sandwiches in foil and placing them neatly into bento boxes. She was preparing food for an army but he would eat everything even if it meant he'd burst.

"You can put the drinks into the ice box if you're bored," she pointed at the colorful box near the fridge. He did, eagerly, but he wasn't bored. He liked watching her do things around the apartment. Though he ordered the different types of drinks into categories, he was done within minutes and returned to his chair at her table after putting a quick kiss onto the exposed skin at her neck.

"Right, almost done," Utahime murmured, lining up the different items on the kitchen counter before packing them. Her phone chimed and lit up. She immediately swiveled around and whisked it off the table.

Too late. Gojo's eyes were quicker.

"Is he still there?"

"Nanami?" He wasn't quite ready for the piercing anger that shot through him. It felt excessive and out of place in this little sanctuary of peace and calm. And it made him feel foolish. Foolish to have believed such a sanctuary could exist for him.

"Yes," she blushed and hid the phone away in her back pocket. "We text."

"You and Nanami talk about me?" He wasn't sure what it meant. He only knew he didn't want it. And apparently, she knew it wasn't right because her face was burning.

"Satoru…"

"Why?"

"Well… people are worried about you."

"Worried?" He laughed, it sounded bitter. "So he is asking whether I'm still here because he's worried?"

"Yes," her eyes flashed angrily. "Everybody is worried. Of course they are!"

"And what do you tell them?"

"That you'll return to work soon," Utahime lifted her chin. "And to stop worrying because you're fine."

"I see," Gojo leaned back on the chair, his arms crossed. He hated her chairs, he thought, they were much too small for him and hurt his back and bum.

"You can't stay here," Utahime followed up hotly. "But you already know that. You're fully recovered. You cannot hide from your duties any longer! Others need to work overtime to cover for you."

"Overtime?" he laughed again but not because he found any of this in the least amusing. "Ah, I get it! Nanami is complaining to you about having to do some more work than usual and you lend him a sympathetic ear, waiting impatiently for me to finally leave."

"Don't be immature," Utahime frowned. "That's not at all what's going on. We are just…"

"Whatever," Gojo interrupted her, got up and pointed at the food, now hating everything. "Let's pack up and go. It's my first picnic after all."

And maybe his last.

###

Gojo was hurt and to that effect super pissy. However much she wanted to roll her eyes at him for being this childish about a text message, Utahime felt bad. Bad to have dampened his spirits, bad to see the almost childlike joy be replaced by something wary and guarded.

And most of all bad for what she was about to do.

But yes, Nanami and she texted frequently these days. So did she, Nanami and Shoko. Naturally, all they had talked about in the last week was Gojo Satoru. Gojo Satoru and the antidote Shoko had developed. Gojo Satoru recovering quickly once his powers were back. The Gojo family and their hunt for the enemy in their own house. The widow and how to protect her from the family's ire. Gojo Satoru disappearing - and reappearing in Utahime's apartment. She was sure that both Nanami and Shoko would keep it a secret from the higher ups who were frantically searching for him but she had to talk to someone about him, she was really worried. And as much as she enjoyed having him close by - not least because THE S-E-X! - she knew this intimacy at her place couldn't last. Because he couldn't stay.

And, let's face it - wouldn't stay as soon as he got his act together.

Gojo Satoru was Gojo Satoru. Nothing had changed about that. She felt his cursed energy from a mile away when she came home from work. It engulfed her fully when she entered her apartment. It swallowed her up at night, when he cuddled up to her leaving no space between them. He was the most powerful Jujutsu Sorcerer the world had ever seen. Without him, the world would sooner rather than later plunge into darkest chaos. Only that she had witnessed that his powers could be taken away - which compelled her to do everything in her power to prevent it from ever happening again.

Whatever the sacrifice.

The day, though relatively young, was warm and sunny, the air was balmy and heavy with fragrance. The plum blossom season was coming to a close and the cherry blossom season was about to start: An end and a new beginning at the same time. It made her want to cry.

"So, actually, we're going to your f…," she began after gathering her courage. She had her speech planned, had thought about all his possible reactions, and had all the necessary explanations ready.

"I don't care," Gojo interrupted her rudely, walking so fast with his long legs that she had to jog to catch up with him. He was carrying the ice box, swinging it like it weighed nothing, preventing her from getting close.

"Satoru, I…" Annoyance interlaced with anxiety made her heart beat faster. Him not even listening was not a scenario she had foreseen. Gojo would immediately understand, she had told herself. He was just getting a bit of rest before going back to being the bulwark against the forces that sought to destroy humanity.

"I said I don't care. You can text whomever you want behind my back. I know people always talk about me, I'm used to it. I was wrong to think it's different between you and me."

"Hey," she grabbed his arm, hard. "Stop this."

"Stop what," he gazed down on her from that towering height of his. He had put on his sunglasses since they were certain to meet loads of non-sorcerers outside on such a beautiful spring day. She couldn't see his eyes and that made him feel distant and cold - how used she had gotten to seeing them.

"Shutting down," Utahime said. "Shutting me out. I'm not your enemy!"

He turned his head away, looking down the street and away from her. His silence irked her. Really, he had no right to be this angry! Was texting a common friend a crime? Only… Utahime bit her lip, fighting tears. Because even without the untimely text message, things between them were not likely to stay the same after today.

They took the bus for a bit, he looked out the window, his face unreadable. She really wanted to take his hand but chickened out, because she knew she wasn't able to stomach a rejection.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" Gojo said once they had gotten off at the final stop and the footpath leading up the mountain appeared before them.

"I'm sorry, Satoru," Utahime said gently, moving her hand up to his face, turning it so he had to look at her. He didn't flinch away. That was something, right? She still couldn't see his eyes.

"What's the date today?" He didn't bother to check his own phone. He probably didn't need to.

"It's the 26th of March," Utahime answered. "I'm so sorry."

It's not that I want this. But it needs to be done. Satoru, can you forgive me?

###

The new part of the Gojo family shrine had turned out just as ugly as he had envisioned it: A travesty of good taste, a sore for the eyes. It was a fitting prison for a vile, dangerous Spirit. Even if that Spirit was the founding father of his entire line, the source of all his powers, he also was a bully patriarch that stood for everything Gojo despised.

And now they were here, on the 26th March, to do his bidding.

Feeling another surge of anger, Gojo kicked a sizable pebble, watching it zoom through the air and hit the newly erected outer shrine with a dull thud. How had he managed to lose sight of this date? Hadn't he vowed he would find a way out of this mess Utahime had gotten herself into? Yeah, only… he hadn't. But maybe he shouldn't wonder - in the last four weeks, almost two of which he had either spent at the hospital or recuperating, he had been sent on six missions, four of which were overseas. The higher-ups might not realize, but he got jet lag too.

"What has he asked you to do?" He demanded to know.

He knew Utahime well enough to see that she was frightened even though she tried very hard to put on a brave, unbothered face. Her bangs were wet from perspiration: He had made her run up the mountain after him. Petty. But he couldn't help it - just as he couldn't help notice the tiny curls that had formed around her ears. Curls his fingers itched to reach for.

His heart hurt when he looked at her - she was so incredibly beautiful and he yearned for her so much, it was an ache that filled his entire chest, now more than ever. During the bus ride, he had come to realize that in their recent time together, she had never let him get close to her. Was this why his desire for her had only grown bigger every day? She endured him in her bed because he managed to please her - but she had hidden the key to her heart somewhere he would never be able to reach.

Things were dire indeed if he got this sappy.

"He wants out," Utahime answered simply.

"Well, he can't come out," Gojo retorted gruffly. "And you know that. He is a very powerful spirit. The few times he did manage to escape…" Gojo stopped abruptly when he saw the look on her face. "You promised him?!"

"Just one day a year," Utahime cast down her eyes, looking at her dusty walking boots. "On his birthday."

"Ha," Gojo exclaimed. "In exchange for what?"

But he didn't need to hear her answer to understand: The stabilization of his powers after the poisoning. The increase of his powers in the last week... He had believed it was because he was finally able to rest. How stupid.

"What are the terms of your agreement with him?" Gojo put the ice box in the shade of the stairs that led up to the veranda. "Make sure not to leave out any details."

"Satoru…" Her lower lip quivered. Was she going to cry? He hoped not. Any kind of softness from his side was only going to prolong the inevitable.

She had apologized at least ten times since they had gotten off the bus. She was probably sincere about being sorry. Despite playing and manipulating him over the last few days, Utahime was a kind person and had likely agonized over this plan. He thought he would eventually forgive her for her betrayal. What hurt the most though wasn't that she had gone behind his back - but that she had not taken him seriously enough.

You could have asked me, Utahime. How unreasonable do you think I am?

"He gets to spend a day outside the shrine inside your body," her voice was quivering too now. "In exchange for granting you the ancestral blessing."

Gojo laughed. A willing possession? Oh, that would be fun.

"I know you are strong enough to contain and subdue him," Utahime lifted her eyes to his. It wasn't a question, and yet, he saw she was deeply afraid.

Yes, it was good to be afraid. He could, theoretically, still walk away and all her and Nananmi's plotting would be in vain. He could insist on being the spoiled brat the world thought he was. He could doom himself and the rest of them at a whim. And yes, for a moment, he seriously considered doing it just to spite them all.

Utahime's eyes grew even more concerned. "If you defy him, you'll die!"

"One day a year outside his prison is worth that much to him?" Gojo mounted the stairs swiftly and opened the door to enter the shadowy shrine. The building smelled new, a mixture of paint and glue, with little piles of sawdust gathering in the corners. Someone had burnt incense sticks in the cracks of a lonely chair. He scooped up the offering coins that lay there and put them into the pockets of his black trousers. Michizane Sugawara might as well spend them himself: on a lolly.

"Satoru, wait…!" Utahime was only now entering the shrine, the backpack with their provisions discarded.

No, he didn't want to wait. Waiting only meant he'd have time to realize the full extent of his anger. He couldn't wait to squash his ancestor's hopes of manipulating him, which was most certainly what the old fucker was planning to do. Like he had manipulated Utahime.

Gojo pushed open the door to the honden. All his powers were stripped away from him when he stepped into it. For the last time. Ever. After this, he would truly be immortal.

"Here I am, Venerated Ancestor!" Gojo boomed. "Happy birthday, old sucker. You want a young, strapping body to have some fun? I'm all yours!"

###

The change in Gojo was subtle but so noticeable Utahime's fears surged as she watched him shudder, jerk, then straighten. A sob escaped her throat. Why had he rushed in here like that?! There was so much more she had meant to say to him!

Slowly and deliberately, he took off his glasses and let them drop to the floor.

"Well," he purred and laughed a mean, gleeful laugh that echoed eerily in the wooden chamber and vibrated painfully in her ears.

This wasn't Gojo anymore.

She took a few hasty steps backwards, bumping painfully into the wall. What if she had miscalculated? Gojo isn't even trying, she thought in panic. He ceded full control to Michizane!

"How interesting," Gojo-notGojo said, turning his head from side to side before turning fully around to focus his shining blue eyes on her. A cold shiver raced down her spine. They were the eyes of a stranger.

"Re… remember our bargain," Utahime lifted a hand partially for emphasis, partially for defense.

"Oh, yes," Gojo-notGojo grinned meanly. "Do I fuck you here on the dirty floor or outside on the ground? Wait… why not both?" He laughed again. "And then a third time in the woods, against a tree. And a fourth time, on a pile of dung. And a fifth time, when you're unconscious. And a sixth time when you're dead."

Utahime sucked in air, trying not to panic. Not that she hadn't known this was coming - she remembered the dreams Michizane Sugawara had plagued her with all too vividly. Those were only dreams though, however real they felt in the moment. This now? No dream. A nightmare with much too much substance.

For a while now, she had fully understood what Michizae wanted, had even felt some sympathy for him, stupid compassionate person that she was: After hundreds of years in this prison, he longed to feel, the smell, to taste again! But he did not only want one day a year, he had admitted as much the last time she had seen him, but a full lifetime of freedom, more, a new reincarnation cycle of freedom. He wanted to plant his (or rather Gojo's) seed into her womb and transfer his soul into the baby.

Only that he didn't know about birth control. To be extra sure it would never happen, she had even gotten herself an IUD a week ago.

It would be Gojo's body after all, Utahime had told herself in preparation for this day. Even just thinking of Gojo's touch set her on fire, right? As soon as they were done in bed, she already wanted more. It wasn't enough, it was never enough. Even if a possessed Gojo's behavior was influenced by the Michizane she knew from her dreams, she would enjoy it, no?

No.

"Oh, shit," Utahime whispered, looking into his cold, merciless eyes. She had one defense left. But as soon as she opened her mouth to use her powers he moved so fast she only saw a blur.

"Don't you dare use your powers on me, you liar," his hand closed around her throat and pressed hard enough to cut off her air supply.

I never lied to you, Satoru! Utahime begged, the tears in her eyes making it hard to see his face. I'm doing this for you! For… the world…

"You do nothing but lie," retorted Gojo-notGojo viciously as if he had heard her words. "You thought to trick me again, you thought I'd get stupid and weak with desire and wouldn't notice! But you made a mistake, woman. You are not that special - there are millions of other women out there. I renounce the binding vow between us. I received a much better offer just now."

He let go of her. Utahime slid down to the floor, gasping for air.

"Where is the widow and the substitute?"

It took Utahime a moment to even understand the question.

"Satoru, please," she gurgled. "Please don't do this!"

"Did she go to the Zen'ins like she threatened to do? Hm…," a cunning look came over his face as he watched her reaction. "Not there, huh. But I want to pay them a visit anyway, I have a little ax to grind with them. And then… I'll go see Nanami Kento. You all think you're so smart, but you know what? I'm smarter."

The next moment, he was gone.

"Oh, shit," Utahime sobbed, her shaking hand fumbling for her phone, dialing Shoko's number. "I lost him. I lost him!" she repeated over and over when her friend answered the call. She could hear Nanami's voice in the background, throwing a series of concerned questions at Shoko.

"What happened? Breathe, Utahime. Breathe! Are you alright?"

"He left," Utahima cried. "I got it so wrong… I don't know what Satoru promised, he didn't even resist him! And now he's going after Chia! He figured out that Nanami is involved, he's in danger!"

And I thought… I thought I meant the world to you. I thought you and me together, Satoru, could win against him.

"Fuck," Shoko exclaimed. "Nanami, we gotta move! Chia needs to disappear now. Utahime, don't do anything stupid, okay? Go home and rest. We've got this!"

"I gotta go talk to the Zen'ins!" Utahime tried to get up. "They'll think the madman coming for them is Gojo, this will start a new war between the families!" I lost him.

"Contact his family," Shoko told her. "They can prevent this."

Utahime nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'll get Aunt Narumi."

Outside, all the delicacies she had packed for their picnic were scattered on the ground and trampled upon. She couldn't unglue her eyes from the ruined, squashed cupcakes as she dialed Aunt Narumi's number.

"Mrs. Gojo?" Utahime's voice broke. "Something really bad happened. Yes, it's your nephew. Please, I need your help."

###

The 26th March 2017 wasn't a day he would forget anytime soon, Gojo Satoru thought satisfied, watching the people below him run around like headless chickens after they'd discovered him perching on their roof.

It was the day he fully accepted who he was.

He was the strongest because he was Gojo Satoru and he was Gojo Satoru because he was the strongest. His ancestor's powers would never leave him again. He was whole.

Killing everyone here would be as easy as taking a breath. He hated these people, had hated them for centuries. His killing intent radiated off him like thick fumes. Purple lightning crackled around his body.

Naobito appeared, desperately shouting and pointing here and there to get his guards into position. Naoya came into the courtyard and stared up at him, a calculating look on his cruel face. He knew he was strong but he was not nearly strong enough.

Gojo cocked his head as he considered exploding his head but someone else came into his line of sight and gave him pause.

"Boy," his Aunt said quietly. He could hear her anyway and she knew he could. "Go away. Go home."

It wasn't her his eyes got captured by though. It was the woman behind her. She looked up at him, a trembling hand covering her mouth. The gentle breeze played with her long black hair and made the red ribbon on top of her head quiver fearfully.

How much he loved her. How much she'd hurt him. But that wouldn't matter tomorrow. Infinite powers were timeless.

The Zen'ins began shouting at his relative who stood quietly in their enemies' courtyard, small yet dignified. While they argued about how to stop the madman on the roof, Utahime didn't take her agonized eyes off him. He saw her lips move. Her powers caressed his defenses. But he refused to listen: He wouldn't allow his strength to be bound by a woman. Never again.

"I'm not angry anymore," he told her, his words carried away by the wind. Maybe she could hear him, maybe not - it didn't matter either. "In fact, if I feel anything, it's that I'm grateful."

One could say it was thanks to her he had embraced his family's powers fully. Or one could say it had been inevitable and fated, which meant she did not matter.

Gojo Satoru lifted his face and looked up at the sun without blinking. He suddenly didn't feel like killing all the Zen'ins anymore. The woman who had poisoned him and her blue-eyed offspring were no longer a threat either.

Good.

He folded his fingers and entered his new domain expansion. Limitless information made him see and feel everything and see and feel nothing at the exact same time. In the unlimited void he might have cried bitter tears for what he had hoped to have and for what he had lost but in the unlimited void, nothing mattered. Nothing at all.