lawly

by footfungus

lawly

36. Chapter 36

Tokyo, Winter 2006

Masamichi Yaga took a deep breath and slowly released it.

He could feel it, thrumming beneath the skin of his forehead; a blood vessel about to burst, an aneurysm awaiting him in the near future, possibly leading to severe brain deficiency, possibly his death.

He took another breath and looked down at his three helion students, kneeling at his feet.

"Alright, I'm listening."

Predictably, they said nary a word. Ieiri seemed bored by the proceedings altogether - the disrespect - and Gojo was lost in the world of physics and atomic possibilities. Geto, it seemed, was the only one willing to bear some responsibility, hunched over in thought, a little uncomfortable as he pondered over how to best word this.

"Satoru!"

That did the trick, snapping him to attention. "What, why are you looking at me?"

"Don't mouth back, brat! Not after what you've done!"

"For the last time," he rose to his feet, "I didn't do anything!"

"Then how do you explain this?" he yelled, pointing to Gojo's feet.

Geto snuck a glance out of the corner of his eyes, shook his head in earnest disbelief, and looked away again.

"Tocuhan!" The child at Gojo's side pulled at his pants, reaching toward him. "Touchan, up!"

Yaga watched as he stifled a groan, looked heavenwards then bent to scoop her up. The little girl only settled when he had her in his arms, hugging Gojo's neck for all her worth.

His left eye twitched. "I want a valid explanation for what is going on. Now."

"I don't know, okay." Gojo gave him his most pitiful eyes. "I really didn't do anything."

If this was him doing nothing, Yaga thought as the girl shyly peered from Gojo's shoulder, showcasing her brilliant sky-blue eyes, then he shuddered to see the aftermath of him accomplishing to do something indeed.

"Start over from the beginning."

Shoko sighed as she observed the dull scenery around her.

She missed having a cigarette in her mouth, but she'd left her lighter back on campus and Geto, the only other who indulged her smoking habits, was currently off playing sorcerer and chasing curses, leaving her sadly bereft of comfort.

"Why am I here?"

"You're required as backup," the voice of the manager broke through her peaceful reverie, making her flinch where she stood. Boy, had she forgotten about that guy. "It was determined you might be needed should the mission go south. There are a few victims of significant importance and their state is yet to be determined."

Right, a special-grade curse needed special-grade sorcerers and sometimes special-grade sorcerers needed her to smooth things over. Lovely.

They haven't had a joint mission since forever ago.

"Thanks," she nodded at the guy. It really wasn't his fault he couldn't detect irony.

Or misery.

Her beloved cigarettes.

Fuck, when were Geto and Gojo going to be done? Any more of this and she would probably go insane.

A branch snapped.

Shoko's eyes turned to the tree line.

"Did you hear that?"

"Ah," the window replied. "Yes."

He reached inside the car for a weapon and Shoko pulled out the cursed tool from her bag. She hated the thing but it couldn't be helped. Neither of her classmates was here to ward off whatever this was on her behalf.

"Ieiri-san, please stay where you are."

"I'm just checking it out from far," she said, already moving closer.

Her curiosity had been stroked, unfortunately.

The damned sorcerer gene, no wonder the whole lot were adrenaline junkies, even Haibara, sunshine blessed as he was.

"Ieiri-san-"

"Alright, I'm staying where I am."

The manager disappeared behind the trees, fading away from sight long enough that Shoko began to fret, worried her earlier hunch was right and a curse had slithered away, disguised as some feeble thing to lure prey when the man emerged once more, carrying a… wailing child?

By some twist of fate, Shoko managed to get the girl to stop crying. A feat Utahime would surely commend her for, she'd think later, given her general aversion to children and her inability to deal with babies as a whole.

Small victory.

"There, there." The girl sniffled. "Can you tell me your name?"

She blinked up at her, heavy black lashes and her azure eyes. Blue with startling clarity.

They were… all Gojo's.

Weird.

"Yumi."

"Do you know your full name, Yumi?"

She fiddled restlessly, studying Shoko with as much wariness as a toddler could possibly have within their midget-sized bodies.

(It was nice being the tall one for a change).

"Yumi."

Ah.

Well, it's not like she knew how to explain the intricacies of a full name any better.

"Alright, Yumi. Did you get lost?"

A bad question to ask, given her flurry of tears. "Want touchan!"

"Sorry, sorry," Shoko pressed the speed dial, "Hey, Satoru, you done, yet? Yeah? Great, I need you to come quick because I'm pretty sure I just found a lost relative of yours," and clicked the end call.

"Are we sure she's...?"

"Do you have another explanation?" she said, leaning against the side of the car.

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared her for the sheer whiplash she'd experience seeing the little girl dash towards Gojo without pause or hesitation as soon as she saw him, crashing against his legs.

"Touchan!"

Geto spat out something unholy, and the manager at her side became white as a sheet. Shoko blinked as Gojo leaned to the side in abject confusion.

"Say what now?"

"Touchan! Won!"

"Y- what?"

The girl's hands lowered, her voice lowered in apprehension. "Touchan?"

Gojo just stared for several long minutes, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

"-what the fuck?"

"And that's what happened."

"You want to tell me that a child just miraculously appeared out of nowhere, miraculously claiming to be your child and it is somehow miraculously true."

Gojo shrugged.

"Satoru!"

"Hey, don't shout, there are little ears here."

Geto peered up at his friend, exasperated and not a little bit exhausted. Bitch was just blatantly mouthing off with a toddler in his arms.

"Is this your daughter?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure yes."

Shoko's mouth fell open. "Dude, you had a child at fourteen?"

"What? NO!"

The vein burst.

"SATORUUUUU!"

"It wasn't me!" Gojo ran away screaming, Yumi saddled in his arms as she giggled at the immaculate speed they were running at.

It was so much fun!

Satoru's kid was like a chipmunk, Geto noted distinctly.

Which was a weird thing to think about, that Satoru had a kid. In the far future or not mattered little, it was still weird. But that was the reality of things apparently.

In a world where teenagers got sacrificed for the stability of the greater good and people cheered at the death of innocence, surely it wouldn't be too impossible to think that things like time travel were achievable.

Satoru, it seemed, was not in agreement.

"This makes no sense."

Shoko took a long airy slurp from her smoothie.

"What doesn't?"

"This?" he said, referring to a stack of paper full of his chicken scrawl. "All of it."

"Sucks, dude."

"... you guys have no idea what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Nope," they shamelessly answered.

"General relativity equations discuss time travel, you know, physicists even solved them," he said, nursing his milkshake. "Somehow, I don't think Yumi followed the laws of spacetime geometries."

He paused.

"Did you follow the laws of spacetime geometries, Yumi-chan?"

The child in question looked up from her plate, cheeks stuffed with veggies and fingers clutching onto a slice of carrot.

Case and point; chipmunk.

Gojo took that for an answer. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

"Is the food good, Yumi-chan?" Suguru asked her with a relaxed smile.

She nodded her head in vigorous affirmation and he rubbed her head with an affectionate pat.

Poor thing must have been lost for hours, hungry and afraid, her black hair a mess, her shoes dirtied, the hem of her clothes caked with mud, fearful of the endless forest and the monkeys gaining in-

"What if you add one at the end?"

"Shoko, it doesn't work like that."

"Worth a try."

Satoru pouted. "I feel mildly insulted."

"That your toddler child from the future managed time travel at the age of two while you didn't learn Reversed Technique until you were well into teenagehood?"

"Yes."

"Tough it out, Satoru," Shoko said, unsympathetic to his plight.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just… by all means, this is impossible. There are things even the limitless can't do."

"Are there now?" Suguru asked mildly.

"Time travel is one of them."

Suguru hummed in a noncommittal fashion. You learned something new every day.

"Yo, Utahime senpai!"

Satoru's head whipped up so fast, Suguru thought it was about to break. "Utahime's here?"

Indeed, she was; waving at Shoko from the cafeteria entrance from behind Yaga's tall frame, clad in her usual hakama and kusode. Suguru patted Yumi's head.

"You're about to see your dad being a grade one moron."

She didn't seem particularly concerned with that, eyeing his piece of fruit with sparkling eyes instead. Suguru smiled, moving the bananas to her plate. She heartily dug in.

"Utahime, aww, did you come all the way from Kyoto to see me?"

"Shut your trap. I'm here to see the kid."

"Booo."

"Utahime," Yaga's booming voice interjected, "is here to make sure Yumi-chan is purified from any possible residual energy."

"Oh good idea, you should have called someone stronger though."

She gave him a thin smile. "I'm going to be the bigger person and ignore what you said."

"Bigger person? You can't even be the taller person."

Suguru faintly noted the twitch of her brow, signaling that her murderous desires had reached their zenith. She slammed her hands on the table, startling their littlest visitor yet from her beloved snack.

"Hey, Gojo! Do you have any idea how hard Yaga Sensei is working to make sure no one finds out about this mess so you don't get the third degree from the higher-ups after what you did?"

"I didn't do anything," he said for the umpteenth time.

"And yet you're the seventeen-year-old with the toddler child."

"It wasn't me! I mean it was but it wasn't me!"

Utahime shook her head in exasperation, turning to Yaga with doe eyes. "I told you he was no good, Sensei."

This was all the incentive their principal needed to launch into a much-needed lecture for Gojo about the responsibility of teaching his future children how to properly handle their cursed techniques, leaving Geto and Shoko to muffle their laughs and Utahime to crouch to the child's height, bestowing her with a gentle smile.

"Hello, there. What's your name?"

Properly fed, rested, and therefore much more energetic, the child instantly beamed. "Yumi!"

"How old are you?"

She lifted two fingers and pulled back to inspect them and make sure it was the proper number before she proudly presented them to Utahime's eyes.

Utahime laughed.

"Alright, Yumi-chan. Why don't we go wash your hands first and then sit by the pretty flowers?"

She pointed to the comical scene. "Touchan."

"Ah yes," Utahime nodded in understanding, more than happy to fulfil her request as Yaga pulled Satoru by the ear. "We can definitely wait for your touchan to finish. Then, we'll go after?"

"Okay!"

Yumi sat contentedly, swinging her legs back and forth while the chaos erupted in the background.

Utahime held it together for one minute before her fragile resolve crumbled and she pinched her cheeks.

Ohoh, squishy.

The faculty beds had not been made with toddlers in mind.

Gojo discovered that fact one solitary Tuesday, with as much fanfare as Tuesdays usually had. Yumi-chan had of course insisted that she sleep with him, refusing Suguru's offer and Utahime's gentle hands, clinging to him with all her might. Tired and at his limits, he'd simply grabbed her like a sack of potatoes to retire, and watched with a heavy sigh as she settled beneath his favourite blankets.

"You better not kick when you sleep."

"Touchan, story."

"You want me to read to you?"

"Story!"

"Oh, I don't know any."

She leaned to the side, confused. "Touchan, lots."

That made him pause as he took off his school jacket, observing her wearily. "You have no idea where you are, do you, Yumi-chan?"

"Touchan," she said confidently.

Something extraordinary must have happened in the future, he thought, for a child like her to have such a wonderful image of her father, a father that he'd become. It was a strange, and mind-boggling thing to consider and his head hurt to think about.

"Yeah, sure, I guess you are."

"Where kaachan?"

He felt his blood run cold at the question and Gojo was quick to wipe out his phone, hurriedly searching for children's bedtime stories, because that was a whole can of worms Satoru was perfectly content on not pondering.

Half an hour later, the story was told, and Yumi was using his body as her bed after officially deciding that his mattress sucked big time, her cheeks separated from his body by the infinitesimal distance of his infinity.

Gojo listened to her even breaths, cautiously lowering the limitless. Every exhale resonated across the fabric of his shirt.

It felt… warm.

What a thing.

Tokyo, Winter 2021

Utahime paused from her relentless search, her boots caked with dirt, fingernails dusted and bloodied, taking a moment to simply be and breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One. Two. Three.

Breathe.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her lips trembled and she slowly felt her energy deserting her, leaving her boneless, jelly-muscled, about to crumble on the forest floor.

It took everything to stop, every bit of her willpower until she was so tense, her shoulders shook like leaves in the winds. She slapped the ground beneath her, furious with it, furious with herself. The lack of answer, the lack of anything.

She wiped her tears, hurriedly pressing the numbers on her phone, the hope building up as she waited for Satoru to pick up.

He did not.

The ringing died.

He still hadn't found her.

"Ayumi!" she screamed, her piercing cry shaking the world around her.

Nothing. Not a single answer or reply, nothing but the stagnant wind, lifeless as it has been since they started their futile search.

Nothing.

Her sweet, sweet, precious girl was…

She was…

"AYUMI!" she bellowed until her throat went hoarse, her technique cresting into a rising mountain wave.

Utahime didn't care as it crashed downward, washing her surroundings in a thick fog of cursed energy.

She just wanted her daughter back.

Tokyo, Winter 2006

When he woke up the next morning, the warmth he'd expected to find was gone and Yumi-chan was nowhere in sight.

Notes:

Where did Yumi-chan gooo? Also why does she not recognise her mama? Is she gonna come back?

Stick around to find out :DD

Chapter 2 Notes:

Everyone panicking while Ayumi chan is living her best life is a vibe.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tokyo, Winter 2006

Gojo knocked on Suguru's door first thing in the morning, fresh from sleep. The door opened a minute later, for Suguru's sleepy face to peek through.

His hair was frizzy, eyes were more closed than open at this point. "Dude, it's like six in the morning."

"Have you seen Yumi?"

"Yumi?" It took Geto's fuzzy brain a minute or two to connect the pieces and his squinted eyes widened. "Yumi-chan? No, I thought she was with you."

"She was, but I woke up and she was nowhere in sight."

"Shi- do you think she went to the cafeteria? Or outside the school?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

Gojo sighed. "Let's go check, maybe she woke up and Utahime found her."

"At least sound a little concerned, Satoru."

"I am."

"Are you? I almost couldn't tell."

"She appeared from nowhere," he said and Suguru could scarcely see his eyes, hidden by his glasses, his back to him as Suguru fell behind in his pace. "Is it unreasonable to assume she would return to her time just as randomly?"

The limitless was a power governed by rationality and logic, described in terms of science and mathematics, formulated in equations. It stood to reason that its bearer operated with that same mindset.

Suguru was the one who was too hasty these days, it seemed. "I see."

"Anyway, wanna spar?"

"You up for it?" He asked with a lazy smile.

Satoru clapped his hands once. "Sure, let's sneak an hour in before we get called on duty."

"Fine, let's go."

It wasn't until they were standing face to face, ready for the brawl that Satoru looked him straight in the eye, "Suguru, are you okay?"

He was so, so tired.

"Just get started so I can kick your ass."

His friend snorted. "You're on."

The shoji doors slid open, revealing Utahime and Shoko peering in on them. The boys were on the floor, taking a minute to breathe before they went at it for another round.

"You guys are up early," Shoko said over Utahime's shoulder.

"Satoru got rusty," Geto gloated, wiping a bloody nose.

"Bitch please, you didn't even get a kick in."

"Rusty."

"Oh, rea-"

"Where's Yumi-chan?"

"She went home," Satoru looked to the ceiling. "I think."

"You think?"

"I don't know. She disappeared in the middle of the night."

"Oh."

"Now you can reserve your time for actually worthy things."

"Don't tell me," Utahime dryly said, "fawning over you?"

"No, actually, I meant getting stronger but if you want-"

"Nope, nope, I don't want to hear it."

"-but you're so weak!"

"Respect your elders, you fucking brat!"

Gojo gasped, scandalised. "Such language and from my own senpai, oh are these the role models I aim to aspire to?"

"I genuinely have no idea who thought they should reproduce with you. That sounds like an honest to god nightmare."

"My impeccable genes and great assets were an excellent incentive, duh."

"Nowhere did I hear anything about your personality."

"Because we're all leaving that to you. Ten thousand yen your future husband asks for separate bedrooms after two days."

Suguru and Shoko cringed as the words came out of his mouth, whereas Gojo took a full ten seconds to realise that maybe, perhaps he shouldn't have said that.

"I am gonna kill him," whispered Utahime.

Shoko helpfully volunteered to get a katana from the storage room.

Tokyo, Winter 2021

She was tired and sluggish by the time the sunset. No, tired was inaccurate, Utahime had gone through consecutive nights of missions with nothing but her last nerve and with meagre supplies, had gone through a war.

Tired was inaccurate, she was just heartbroken.

Heartbroken and furious.

The moisture of the soil seeped through her jeans and she leaned against the tree side, watching the branches sway.

She hunched over, head in her hands. The headache in her temple throbbed worse than a war missile launch.

There were no more tears left in her, she'd used them all up by now but it mattered not, her wariness or her aches, for she had to keep going. She had to keep looking for Ayumi, she couldn't have gone very far.

Satoru was on the other side of the woods, Megumi was using his hound and the few guards they trusted were on the lookout, searching as they were.

A single bark broke in the absolute silence of the forest and Utahime froze.

"Who is there?"

She heard it, faint in the wind. "Ouchie."

Utahime slowly cleared the tree branches from her face, cautiously taking her steps.

"Ayumi?"

The exclamation met her as soon she landed in the light. "Kaachan!"

She blinked. Utahime could so scarcely believe her eyes that she had to slap her face for a burst of clarity. That was her daughter standing there, looking a little worse for wear, surrounded by far too much-cursed energy than she normally would have and that Utahime, for the sake of her maternal worries, chose to ignore.

"Ayumi!"

Her legs couldn't carry her fast enough; her feet struggled to stand up as she ran and ran, scooping Ayumi in her arms as soon as she was close enough to touch her.

"My sweet girl."

Her tears fell even as she smiled and brushed her fingers over Ayumi's cheeks and hair, marveling at her well-being.

"I'm so glad you're okay."

"Kaachan!" Yumi rushed to hug her in excitement, clinging to her hold. "Hug, hug."

Utahime laughed as she cried, hugging her for all her worth. Ayumi felt warm and real, her darling, happy girl, cheery as ever.

"You okay, Yumi-chan?"

"Kaachan!"

Her throat was scratched up and choked despite her best efforts. "You missed me?"

"Aha."

"Sweet girl, I missed you too."

Ayumi took that as an incentive to snuggle more thoroughly, reminding Utahime of her earlier days of infancy, the way babies would cling to their mothers unaware that they were separate from their caretakers. It felt better than ever, the palm to her soul after the last few hours of misery.

Satoru found them with a message of their live location and a burst of teleportation. His form was haggard, hair knocked through every direction in the wind, and the fabric of his clothes scrunched.

Utahime didn't need to see it to hear his silent sigh of relief nor his overturned thoughts finally laid to rest because only a mere hour ago was she in the eye of that storm, lost with no way out.

He was careful as he knelt beside them. "Yumi-chan."

"Touchan!" Ayumi gleefully greeted him from her spot on Utahime's lap, all baby teeth. "Found Kaachan!"

"You did," he said. "Smart girl."

She was like a little sun, smiling at his generous compliments. A mirror of innocence they both had and lost long ago.

"Should we go home now, Ayumi?" She asked. "Are you tired?"

Her answer was drowsy as expected and Satoru went to pick her up from her arms, an indistinguishable expression on his face.

"Yumi-chan," he called, voice light and eyes brewing with a storm. "Where did you go?"

Utahime looked at him while he looked at Ayumi and Ayumi blinked hard, trying to concentrate. "Ha?"

"Where did you come back from? Were you visiting someone?"

She must have thought it a game for her face lit up and some fervor of energy returned to her. "Touchan!"

It was then Satoru turned to her and Utahime felt the well-honed wariness of her years overtake her, her focus snapping to that curl of negative space around Ayumi once more.

"Teleportation," Utahime repeated faintly, in rampant incredulity.

Satoru, lost in his thoughts on the other side of the bed, only gave a faint hum.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her hand running up and down Ayumi's sleeping form.

"Same energy pattern, I could see it as soon as I saw her."

Now that, Utahime thought, was something parenting books did not have a section on. "She's not even three years old yet."

Horror, that was definitely horror gnawing in her chest. Tighter than a vice. How was her unassuming daughter supposed to control a power of that magnitude when she didn't have the cognitive abilities to do so in the first place?

"Don't worry," Satoru's strokes on the back of her arms were soft and soothing. "She will be fine, Utahime."

"She said she was with you, Satoru, what-"

"I don't know, I'll try to scour some of the tomes in the school."

"You have a theory." She knew her husband well.

"I hope it's not what I think it is."

How reassuring. Before she could ask, he turned to the side, facing her fully.

"I know you're worried." He said, taking her hand, and kissing her palm. "I am too, but for now let's just figure out where to start, okay?"

It was his pleading eyes and gentle touch that let her fears relent and she nodded. "Okay."

Ayumi squirmed, jumping on her tippy toes. She jumped and jumped but her fingers still couldn't grasp onto her target leaving her sulking where she stood.

Utahime smiled when she walked in on the scene, moving to her side. "Hey, Yumi-chan. What are you doing?"

She was blinking her teary puppy eyes at her in an instant, sniffling in a broken tone. "Kaachan."

"There there, what's wrong?"

"Masha!" She said, pointing to her favourite matcha green teddy bear, high, high above her on the shelf.

"Oh, I see. I'll get it for you!"

Picking up the plushie from its spot, she gave it to Ayumi with a grin and her girl smiled as soon as it was in her arms, bright and happy as one could be.

Utahime launched her into the air with a flourish, giggling at Ayumi's screech. When Ayumi was in her arms, Utahime descended on her with a flurry of kisses and tickles.

"Who's my favourite girl?" She repeated the question Gojo would ask their daughter again and again, from the minute she was born, small and fragile in his arms.

"Yumi-chan!"

"That's right, Yumi-chan is my favourite girl."

Utahime smooched her cheek and Ayumi kissed her back, right on the scarred tissue of her face.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah!"

"Me too. What are we gonna eat, hmm?" She headed to the kitchen, Ayumi in her arms, teddy bear and all, as she opened the refrigerator's doors to look over their food options and stock of vegetables. "Oh, I guess I can make some fried rice. I wish we could have some Gyoza though."

"Want mame."

"Oh, edamame? I can ask touchan to get us some," she added wryly, "maybe he can get us gyoza as well."

Ayumi laid her cheek on her shoulder, making little noises of agreement here and there.

"Hey, yumi-chan," she started slowly, wary of the topic but with no choice but to brave forward. "Where did you go yesterday, with touchan?"

"Huh?"

"Did you have fun?"

Yumi's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Played."

"You did?"

"Aha."

"What else did you do?"

"Story!"

"What was the story about?"

Ayumi trailed off in thought, her head lost in space. "Flower."

"Where did you go?"

"Touchan and Yumi, garden."

"Garden?" She repeated under her breath, trying to put the puzzle piece together. "What did it look like?"

"Flowers."

Yeah, that one was on her. "Okay."

She settled Ayumi on the kitchen top, deciding to let the sleeping beasts lie for now. Utahime's fretting would do no good. It was best she did what she excelled at, strategic planning on how to move on from there.

"Kaachan."

"Yes, Ayumi."

"Touchan."

"You want touchan?"

Ayumi nodded.

"He's at work right now, so we'll have to wait until he returns." Ayumi wilted like a rose. "He'll be back soon, and in the meantime, we'll get dinner started."

"Touchan," she repeated sadly.

She brushed back Ayumi's fringe. "We just need to be a little patient, alright?"

Her daughter pouted, clearly displeased.

Utahime started humming her favourite song as a consolation, digging through their pantry for meal prep, taking out her favourite nonstick pan

When she turned around, Ayumi had disappeared.

Tokyo, Winter 2006

When Gojo returned back to the school from his noon-long mission, Utahime was already packing her bag, ready to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Kyoto," she answered, retying her hair in its signature style. "Gakuganji-san asked for my presence, and I have a mission too."

"Bah, not that boring old-" Utahime glared "-sycophant."

"Well, work is work."

"Hmm."

Utahime fell silent, playing with the end of her hair, her fingers decidedly very fidgety and Gojo peered at her, curious. Utahime was usually more reserved with her words, yes, but never around him.

"Is… is Yumi-chan never coming back?"

He blinked.

Utahime must have seen something of his credulousness through his glasses for she flushed, looking to the side. "I was just wondering."

"Did you like her?"

"She's sweet and happy, Gojo," she said, her tone wistful. "Unlike you."

He waved her off. "I can be cute."

Utahime shook her head. "That's not what I meant."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it makes sense you like kids, but seriously, you met her for what… half an hour? Hardly time to get attached. Even Suguru likes her."

"I guess Geto-kun has a soft spot deep down."

Indeed, some of it strong guarding his principles, the ones he'd reminded Gojo of when they first met. But principles often lacked against the real world, the death of innocence.

Still, Gojo crouched, patting Utahime's head with a happy-go-lucky attitude that was only faintly hard to maintain. "Don't worry, Uta-chan. I'll be around to bathe you in my adorableness."

"Ugh, kill me now."

This curse was a pain in the ass, and an ugly one as well. It hissed every five seconds like an overachieving cartoon villain and made loud, boisterous claims to its capabilities that caused a headache to Gojo.

Special grades, always such a pain.

He scowled at the hideous thing, pondering how best to proceed. Blue, definitely blue.

It had pissed him off that much.

Gojo stretched his hand in front of him, ready to aim when-

"Touchan!"

He stilled, the curse froze in its tracks and a few crickets deigned to bestow them with their stridulation. Satoru refused to look down, for surely if he ignored the problem, it would go away on its own.

It did not.

He chanced a look at his hips to see Yumi indeed clinging to him, dispelling any hope that the last few days had been a collective school-wide hallucination.

"What," he said slowly, "are you doing here?"

"Play!"

"Now?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded.

"Yumi-chan, I'm kinda in the middle of something. Can we do this later?"

Her lips trembled in dismay and confusion, and Yumi started letting out odd noises that gave Gojo the uncomfortable feeling that she was about to cry.

He took a breath, about to lament his sorrows to the sky when the curse he'd completely forgotten about, oops, dashed in his direction like a raging bull, jaws open, ready to attack and destroy.

"Oh, shit," Gojo said before he threw Ayumi over his shoulder and started running.

Notes:

Gojo carrying Ayumi like a potato sack is so funny, lmao. Present Gojo would be power-slapping the little shit for it (Ayumi is his sweetheart, okay?)

Also, I love teenage gojohime, they're little shits 3

Chapter 3 Notes:

In honour of Teen Gojo 333

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tokyo, Winter 2006

Yaga was lining the thread within the sewing needle, preparing to finish the last stitches on his newest doll when a light-sounding knock resonated on his shoji doors.

"Come in."

Nanami Kento inched forward in a polite bow. Then, before Yaga had the opportunity to do so much as breathe, much less ask about his sudden appearance, Nanami spoke.

"I believe Gojo-senpai has kidnapped a child."

And he left, just like that.

Earlier that day:

So yes, Gojo ran. It was hardly respectable and frankly embarrassing, but with a toddler over his shoulder and a bulldozer of a curse on his tail, there was little to nothing else to be done but take a mad dash for reassessing.

(No, How to Deal with Civilians 101 did not cover what to do when your future child appeared out of nowhere in the middle of your attack.)

"What am I gonna do?" He asked himself.

The little rascal in his arms giggled in delight with no sense of danger whatsoever.

What the hell was future him teaching his daughter? To have no awareness of trouble?

He stopped in his tracks, heaving a breath, moving Yumi-chan so that she was perched on his lower arm instead. Her face was tomato red but her eyes were a pair of joy. "Okay, time for a plan B, I guess."

What course that plan would take, was yet to be determined.

"B?"

"Oh god… you don't even know your hiragana." He sighed, slapping his forehead as he kept at bay the urge to slam it against a pillar.

Why him?

Why couldn't it be Suguru or Utahime? If they loved children so much, it seemed fitting that they are the ones to get a spontaneous visit from their future spawn.

Then again…

…it was him with the fabrics of space and time at his command.

He rubbed his index and thumb together.

"Why am I running away?" He asked out loud and the curse slithered forward, detecting the harrowing note of power dripping off his every word, itching for its survival. "I am the strongest."

He flicked his finger and blue came bursting forth.

No, he did not remember to put infinity over Yumi-chan in time to shield her from the subsequent explosion.

Yes, it was as messy as one might expect, thank you very much.

Nanami stared at the beguiling child in front of him with a blank stare and a straight mouth, observing her wide blue eyes and twin pigtails, the leftovers of curse entrails.

Privately, he thought she looked far too similar to Gojo than any human being deserved, but that was his opinion.

He crossed his arms, continuing his passive study.

"Nanamin! There you are."

Haibara jogged over to their side, heaving a breath from the excursion. He took a moment to regain his bearing, hunched over before he straightened and tilted his head in surprise

"Who is that?"

"Kidnapped child, Haibara," he gestured from her to him. "Haibara, kidnapped child."

"Oh… wait what?"

Nanami just gave him a long look, confirming that Haibara did not suddenly develop a hearing disorder and that he had, in fact, heard correctly.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked quietly, giving a friendly smile to the dirty toddler, who'd already begun to squirm where she stood with restless energy.

"You do not and neither do I."

"Okay, then."

The girl huffed, looking to her left and right in agitation.

Haibara kneeled, offering a benign smile for her benefit. "Hello."

She blinked. Then, with a beaming curve of her lips, "Hi."

"What's your name?"

"Yumi."

"What happened to you, Yumi?"

The sludge that had settled over her hair was now slowly sliding down the length of her arm.

Yumi thought over the question for a minute. "Boom."

Indeed.

"Yeah, that is a mess."

"I don't suppose we're the ones who should call the authorities?"

"Don't know." Haibara looked around them, finally turning to Nanami with a frown. "Where is Yaga sensei?"

"I know you're mad."

"I am not mad," Yaga said in turn, arms crossed, mouth pinched, his shoulders rigid.

Mad.

Gojo tapped his indices against each other, letting the silence covertly sneak into the conversation. It would be wise to remain quiet in this case, for sure, that would do him well to get him off the hook-

"I didn't do anything."

"So we've established," his teacher drily replied.

"I just feel that you're mad."

"I am not."

Ah.

"That's good to know."

Gojo's next warning came in the form of a throbbing vein in Yaga's temple though he scarcely had time to process or react, his booming voice reverberating.

"Am I doomed to deal with you Gojos and your antics for my entire life?"

He blanched with affront. "It wasn-"

"And this future you, what is he doing?"

"You know, I asked myself that very same question."

"Does he teach his daughter nothing? She's breaking the laws of space-time like a pinata!" Yaga suddenly turned on his heel to glower at Gojo. "You are present in her life, correct?"

"Sensei, she loves me!"

Which was an odd thing to say, so openly and brazenly, but it was true. Yumi-chan stuck to him with an adoration that was foreign and clung to him thoughtlessly. It bore comfort and familiarity.

"Hmm."

"Should I be insulted that you immediately thought I was a deadbeat father?"

Yaga snorted. "Jujutsu sorcerers are not made for parenthood."

"Huh." That made sense; one only needed to take a look at the Kyoto branch group of students to realise the statement for themselves. "Well, obviously I am an exception."

He got a hard knock to the head for that one - completely undeserved - and Gojo protested the assault only to fall silent when Yaga ruffled his hair.

"I suppose you are."

His tone, marveling, felt ill-suited to Gojo Satoru, a lauded miracle since infancy, heralded as the saving grace of the world.

Its exception.

Now here he was, praised for the mundane.

Satoru blinked quickly, shit, was there dust in his eyes?

"I assume you have no idea how to send Yumi-chan back?"

"I do not," he confirmed. "I don't even know how long she's staying."

"I see. Well off you go then."

His head snapped to him, not in terror for he was not afraid, but in what Satoru would lightly describe as apprehension. "You're not gonna help me?"

"She's your child."

"You have more experience."

"I doubt she'd be happy under my watch. You're her father, you should be the one to take care of her." A tap on the shoulder and his teacher was already heading towards the door. "Just bathe and feed her. Good luck"

Yaga exited the stage as Gojo stared, unblinking, trying to process his words. It was a blur of a moment before he hurried after him.

"Sensei, senseiiiiiiiiii!"

"Okay, so I might have overreacted."

Gojo deposited a healthy amount of his shampoo in his palm before he began to massage it through Yumi's short hair.

"This is easier than I thought it would be, I won't lie."

He didn't know why he was telling Yumi-chan this, but it certainly helped to voice out his thoughts. For her part, she was happily splashing in the bath, submerging her toes before she pulled them out dramatically.

Well, the first time she tried to do it, she'd almost slipped on her back and straight into the shallow waters of her bath before he caught her, but Gojo was counting his successes where he could find them and preserving her brain function was certainly an achievement.

He didn't know how many times a baby's hair had to be washed so Satoru lathered her twice just in case and then he proceeded to give her a full body scrub to get out all the curse bits that had found their way under her clothes.

He leaned back, studying her with a critical eye, nodding in satisfaction at the results.

Yumi-chan presented him with her hands for inspection.

"Squeaky clean," he confirmed.

Yumi giggled.

Privately he wondered if that was something he always did; giving her her baths, washing her hair, approving her cleanliness level.

"I guess we dry off next?"

It was more of a question than he'd liked but he did as planned and patted her as thoroughly as possible.

Which was what led him to discover his next dilemma; he did not have a change of clothes for Yumi-chan.

Gojo looked at Yumi-chan who looked back at him and Satoru gingerly wrapped the bath sheet around her like an expert spa attendant and sighed.

So she looked like a burrito, details.

The more important issue was, where was he supposed to find clothes her size?

"Wait here, kay?"

He walked out of the bathroom with possibilities of where he could procure said garments, wondering how Yumi was going to entertain herself when he recalled with startling clarity how slippery the tiles were and in turn how slippery she was and promptly turned around to get her.

Utahime always said that he would have permanently injured himself if it weren't for his powers and he had no interest in testing that theory out on Yumi.

"I am going to end my friendship with Satoru," Shoko grimly informed him. Suguru for his part said nothing, following after her in silence "Can you believe him?"

Again, nothing.

"Okay, I know he's your bestest bestie but you have to draw the line somewhere. You have to draw the damn line."

"Shoko-chan," his equally serious tone stopped her and she turned to find a wild vibrant gleam in his eyes, "this is the most hilarious thing I have ever seen in my entire life. No way am I missing a single moment of it."

She took a moment to think it over then nodded. That was true, no lie.

Suguru gave a close-mouthed smile. "Let's go steal a panda's clothes."

"Ask, we're going to ask a panda for his clothes."

He shrugged. "It's your call."

She was the one who got along with Panda, surprisingly enough. Turns out their teacher's pseudo-son slash cursed corpse had a knack for Shoko's brand of sarcasm and happened to think that Suguru "majorly sucked".

Shoko knocked on Panda's room.

"You couldn't find better colours?"

Geto threw the pillows at Gojo's face on her behalf, hard enough for his infinity to rebound it with a thud.

"Thank you."

"I was just saying."

Shoko stepped back, checking that every hole was in its accounted-for place, arms, leg, neck, the whole package.

"I guess I put on the clothes well enough," she said, cringing a little at the horrible clash of colours that assaulted her eyesight.

What the hell was Yaga thinking?

Moreover, what was she thinking?

Shoko patted Yumi's ruffled hair in silent apology and went to sit on the foot of Satoru's bed, trading with Suguru.

They watched as he moved the side table, a makeshift styling chair for Yumi-chan, combing her hair in a neat hairstyle with one of Shoko's old scrunchies.

"He got skills," Satoru whispered to Shoko conspiratorially.

"I know," she whispered back, just as dramatic.

He shot them a quizzical look, wondering if they'd gone slightly insane. He did his own hair every morning, of course, he knew how to tie hair.

"There, all done"

Yumi, with her new topknot, hurried to hop from the table and ran to her father, jumping up for assistance and Gojo, it seemed, has long decided to reserve his energy and give up, letting her climb up to sit beside him.

"I guess I am your pillow today."

Shoko watched as Yumi raised her hands for a hug and Gojo stared at her for several moments, perplexed. She didn't relent until he gave in, stiff and uncomfortable but Yumi-chan didn't seem to care, squirming until she was settled in his lap.

Geto dug around for chips in Gojo's drawers, futile, really when he stacked every bit of space with sweets until he gave up and settled for some chocolate instead.

Yumi's eyes widened at the thrown package, happily munching on an offered cut piece, her eyes closing in bliss at the burst of sugar.

Not like Gojo, whose eyes always sparkled in joy. No.

Like-

Shoko's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, standing on the cliff of realisation. It was a stray thought, a passing observation that was now taking root and she could only drum her index across her mouth in thought.

Suguru nudged her, a curious arch of his brow. Asking her about her discovery.

She shook her head. "I'm not telling."

Not until he took a closer look, not until he guessed.

Yumi-chan whined for another piece, only for Gojo to devour the entire bar in one go, giving her a triumphant look.

Her lips wobbled as she looked down, pouting through her quickly forming tears.

"Don't be a spoilsport."

"Sorry, Geto-kun," her voice was quiet, bordering on soft, "your sport is spoiled."

He inclined his head, accepting his defeat.

Yumi-chan burst into tears.

Shoko looked again at the toddler, wondering and guessing and unable to derive a concrete fact.

Tokyo, Winter 2021

Shoko gently closed the tome in her hands, smoothing her hands down its ancient spine. The kanji strokes were starting to fade against even the best preservation blessings.

It had yielded little to no useful information, only causing Shoko's head to swim with tales long passed.

Utahime, seated on the floor with a low table for her study was pouring through her own material, outlining every point of relevance, writing her notes. Satoru, in contrast, was spread over the couch with an arm behind his head, reading the diaries of the former Six Eyes.

Shoko asked him, "Find anything?"

"He liked Kumquat and Fiji apples."

Utahime hummed absent-mindedly.

"Had a knack for Ume wine."

Shoko snorted. "Loaded since the Heian era."

Satoru shut the diary, throwing it over the pile to the side. His groan was acute. "This is useless. A kindergartener's keepsakes would have been more informative."

Shoko listened to his complaints patiently, aware of how little she could offer in comfort. Gojo sighed, a hand running down his face.

He tapped Utahime's shoulder. "Uta, stop writing."

She ignored him.

"Utahime."

Her withering glare was shot with irritation. Satoru barely relented, meeting her head on and Shoko fidgeted with her fingers, hoping they wouldn't end up fighting to vent their frustration.

"I'm going to make me some tea. Do you want some?"

"No, thanks," Utahime coolly replied, still staring at her husband.

"Okay."

She only felt a smidge guilty for her retreat, but if they had been entertaining to watch as students, as married adults their fight could be all too tiring to witness. Shoko had no interest in exhausting herself more than she already was.

She waited for the tea to steep, resisting her urge to stir it just to give her hands something to do. Curse of being a doctor and a surgeon.

It must have been worse for Gojo and Utahime, who could only sort through pages and manuscripts, with no idea how to retrieve their daughter or how to even find her.

She rubbed her temple.

What a mess.

Still, it was the least she could do as a friend, offering a helping hand, occasionally going to the other room so they could talk, even if she had to drink the Sencha in the kitchen to do it.

When she returned she found them tangled together in a mess of limbs, Utahime's head in the curve of Satoru's shoulder, his hand in hers. Cocooned in each other's embrace.

She took a stray blanket from the cabinet on the side, spreading it over their dozing forms, but Satoru's eyes opened, alarmed by the sudden movement.

"It's just me."

He nodded. "Sorry," he whispered back.

"No harm done."

He continued to observe her, and Shoko hoped her face softened, hoped it could portray her as a pillar to lean on.

"It's okay, Satoru-kun. I'll stay up and keep reading."

He relaxed back on the sofa. "... Yeah?"

"Yes."

She settled into the chair, moving on to the next book. Only when she sensed him fade into proper sleep, did she dim the lights so that Utahime and Satoru could sleep.

Notes:

I wish I had written teen Utahime in too (helloooo, did you guys see her, she's sooooooooooooo cute) but alas, maybe next chapter? I'm not sure. Should I get Utahime back from Kyoto? Or should we let Shoko steam in her suspicions?

What do you think will happen next 👀

Chapter 4 Notes:

Writing teenage Gojo in despair is the highlight of my week.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tokyo, Late December 2006

Gojo woke up with a spear lodged in his throat.

The sound of the blowing wind, the white noise of the DVD player and the taste of iron on his tongue, on his throat, the blood running down his chest.

A tap came through the threshold; a knock on his door.

"Gojo-senpai!" Haibara, his mind supplied. "Yaga sensei sent me, there's a new mission for you."

He blinked.

The iron faded away.

"Gojo-senpai?"

Above his head, he heard a slow-rising whine. Satoru looked up to see Yumi-chan lying horizontally on his pillow, starfish spread, her right foot almost touching his nose.

How she reached that point when she's gone to sleep vertically inclined as normal people were prone to do, he didn't know. He was honestly impressed.

Another knock, another soft call.

Yumi began to stir awake, rubbing her eyes with the haze of the in-between, hovering closer to sleep than consciousness. She was looking around her in confusion, reaching for Satoru with a slowly forming question.

He laid a finger in front of his mouth, shushing her quietly. It was a breeze to coax her into his arms, pulling her to his side slowly and gently.

"Wanna go to sleep again?" He whispered.

Yumi's head flopped on his shoulder, already decided. Disinterested in whatever was going on outside as long as she had something to lie on.

If he was disgruntled the first time she did that, now he was simply glad that was enough to sedate her into quietness. He didn't want to get up.

Not right now. Mission or not.

Besides, Haibara didn't seem too concerned, if it was a well and true emergency, he would be beating down his doors in haste.

Therefore Satoru didn't feel particularly bad about ignoring his personal messenger, content to slide back into his bed.

His back to the wall, Yumi-chan clinging to his middle, a mini furnace, and the sunrays filtering through the gap in the curtains Gojo Satoru waited for the spear to ram his neck once again, his heart stuck in the hollows of his trachea and went to dreamless sleep in grating anticipation.

It didn't come.

Yumi-chan, Gojo observed in fascination, was way too upbeat for someone who just woke up five minutes ago.

He could understand if she were energetic; he too would wake up restless for food, for sugar, for something to do to quench the buzz under his skin but he simply couldn't recall he was ever all sunshine disposition as she seemed to be.

"You hungry?"

"Eat!"

"Yeah, me too."

Starving, actually. Trying to calm down a wailing child had been an exhausting affair.

Gojo had been content to let her cry her heart out, sure she'd exhaust herself in due time when Suguru and Shoko's judgemental stares had dug holes into his back, which was completely unfair - surely responding every time would just create a spoiled monster.

That had just made them give him the stink eye.

"Yumi-chan," he called out to the toddler who was veering way off direction, heading straight to the track field. "Yuuumi-chaan!"

She only paid attention when he waved a hand in front of her face, stopping in her tracks.

"The food isn't that way," he informed her, laughing.

Yumi's mouth opened in an O.

"Here, come."

She latched on to his hand and Satoru was happy enough to lead them to the cafeteria, humming under his breath. For some reason, Ayaka Hirahara's Jupiter was stuck in his mind today.

Sometimes life moves in mysterious ways and you don't know where it will end.

Yumi's zealous energy dwindled down as she looked at the wide cafeteria left to right and left again, sweeping it with fluttering eyes.

"You okay?"

She rushed to hug his legs, only a quarter of her face uncovered as she observed the setting with doe eyes. She borrowed closer when it got too much, he'd noticed; when the world got confusing.

"Kaachan," she mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Kaachan," she sniffled.

"Oh, uhm."

Gojo stood awkwardly, unsure of how to comfort her best. He supposed it was only natural she missed her mother but that was hardly an issue he could solve when he was clueless as to who said Kaachan was.

He didn't even know he had a daughter with this Kaachan a week ago.

Therefore he channelled his inner Suguru, the toddler whisperer.

Pat, pat. "There, there."

"Kaachan?"

"Um, maybe not right now." He snapped a finger as if overcome with an idea. "Why don't we go see what we're having for breakfast instead?"

Just to seal the deal, he carried her on his hip, her personal chauffeur to the serving booth. Wasn't he just the best?

The serving caterer was an old grandma who worked in the school as its chef for the last forty years, her deceased husband a former second-grade sorcerer. Her cooking was probably one of the three reasons the current batch of fourth-year students found a will to live.

"Hello, Gojo-kun." Her smile was probably what a grandmother ought to have. "Who is this?"

He stared at Yumi who studied the food offerings in front of them with the curiosity and hunger of a baby Bambi.

"Homework," he deadpanned.

"That's odd homework, dear."

"I wasn't the one responsible," he said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"One usually isn't," she told him, splurging on his soup and rice and that was possibly the most sympathetic answer he'd received so far. "Still, we ought to eat well."

He nodded, trying to glimpse whether they were going to have dessert today.

"Taiyaki?"

"Always." His brain was already conjuring the sweet delicate taste in his mouth. "Can you pour extra chocolate?"

She peered at Yumi before she shook her head. "Perhaps another time, Gojo-kun."

Eh? Satoru's brain screeched to a halt, watching as she wrapped the dessert in a paper bag.

Eeeh?

"Bu-"

"Trust me, you'll thank me later." Again, another significant look towards Yumi.

His mouth didn't drop open in shock simply by virtue of his maturity and level-headedness but Gojo felt personally affronted.

"This is all your fault," he informed Yumi, walking away with his breakfast.

Yumi-chan happily ignored him.

Haibara proved to be a pettier man than expected, greeting him with a smile and biting words.

"You know if you wanted me to leave you alone, you should have told me, Gojo-senpai."

He pursed his lips. "I was sleeping. It wasn't personal."

"I see, well, sensei said you have half an hour left to get ready."

They had to be fucking kidding him. He was on a mission yesterday and now he had half an hour to eat.

He bit back a bloody curse. Ayumi looked at him in curiosity, fidgeting in hunger.

"Hey, Haibara, you like kids, don't you?"

"I guess, I have a sister," he said slowly.

He offered him Ayumi by the armpits, balancing his tray on the other hand. "Thousand Yen for every hour of babysitting."

He didn't even blink. "Add a cursed technique consultation and you have a deal."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

Yumi, however, was far from pleased, squirming against Haibara's grip. "Touchan!"

"Haibara-kun is gonna play hide and seek with you." He gave a thumbs up. "Have fun, Yumi-chan."

And then he turned around straight to where Shoko sat, digging in his breakfast before he even settled in properly.

"Suguru at a mission?"

"Yep," her breath smelled of nicotine. "Since the early morning."

He took a spoonful of white rice, thoughtfully munching through it with a deep frown.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the generous amount of chocolate sauce on her Taiyaki and he reached forward to cut off a piece when Shoko pulled it away.

"That's for Yumi-chan."

"What's your deal?" He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "You don't even like kids."

"I don't," she heartily agreed, "but watching you yesterday has been the highlight of my week, I have to thank her somehow."

"Technically you should be thanking me," he sneaked a hand towards her tray but Shoko was faster and dodged, knowing to expect his attack. "Since I made her."

"I'll send a piece of the waffles with her when she goes home then since the you we should be thanking is over there."

That caused them both to pause as their brains struggled to understand the strange and nonsensical turn their conversation had taken.

Satoru shook his head. "This is some weird mindfuck."

Shoko could only nod, not complaining when Satoru reached again for her food.

Perhaps he deserved it.

"I'm so glad this isn't happening to me."

Satoru glared, unimpressed. Shoko offered him her dessert as an apology.

The sacrifices she made.

Shoko turned the page of her magazine as she sorted through the headers and quotations, taking a quick overview of the current juicy happenings.

There was a crash.

"Yumi-chan, what did you do?"

The toddler was rubbing her head as she blinked to regain her bearings. Shoko's question seemed to distract her though, for she pointed to the poster on Gojo's bedroom walls.

"Pretty!"

Shoko looked at the Kirby and Pokeman posters on the wall, a flurry of bright colours and fluid illustrations.

"Nice to know you got your dad's preferences," she mused, then frowned. That still didn't explain what she crashed into in the first place.

Shoko sighed. "Be careful, alright."

Yumi-chan was already skirting off, zooming around. She wondered how long it would take her before she became bored of the small space of Gojo's bedroom but until then Shoko would use it as ample distraction, the best she could do as a hasty substitute for her babysitter who had been promptly shipped off to Kanagawa.

To reiterate, the sacrifices she made

Haibara was so splitting the money.

"Look!"

And now Yumi was clutching Gojo's custom Raybans within her unconcerned grip, paying no mind to the lens or the frame. Shoko put down her magazine and stood from the bean bag chair.

"You know who this belongs to, hmm?" She manoeuvred the sunglasses over her eyes. "It's your touchan's."

Yumi seemed amazed by the information, or so Shoko assumed, given her open mouth. The sunglasses hid much of her face after all.

She snorted. "Well, no one can say he was ever this cute."

It was but ten seconds later that Yumi slammed face-first into the bedside table and Shoko flinched in surprise, assured once again of her ill-suitability for childcare.

Gingerly, she took off the blackouts, folding them in the neckline of her shirt instead when the toddler whined for them.

They should probably sit down, Shoko swallowed, before the kid ended up with brain damage.

Her phone beeped with an incoming SMS and she steered Yumi to her seat, cajoling her to sit down. She laid a hand over her head in the hopes that it would prevent her from jumping away as she clicked open her Nokia.

Utahime was coming as per her text, another mission beckoning her to Tokyo.

That was the flow of things, here to there and everywhere, in constant motion. Servants of the whims of curses and human misery. But somewhere along the line, Gojo had settled and had a child who looked at him with stars in her eyes, and that life, quite possibly, included Utahime.

She circled the home button, mulling it over. Her theory was just a theory, it'd be better to let it be.

It would be…

"Hey Yumi-chan," Shoko tried her best to put on a coaxing tone. "Tell me about your mama."

Yumi looked at her in confusion, her brows furrowed. She could only analyse her expressions in silence, drawing yet another conclusion. Really, how could she help it?

It almost felt like that once she'd noticed, it was all she could see.

"Your kaachan," she elaborated; if Gojo were touchan, then Uta- the mother would undoubtedly be called Kaachan.

She was right, for Yumi's eyes lit up. "Where?"

"Oh, she's not here."

Geographically, spatially, and temporally.

"Kaachan," Yumi whispered, looking around them with a little heartbroken look.

"You want her, don't you?" she rolled the tip of her tongue over her teeth, wishing Yumi was a little older so they could have had a more fruitful conversation. "You love Kaachan?"

She nodded, blue eyes and black hair, smudged with a cool violet undertone.

"Love Kaachan."

What's she like in this future of yours? Shoko didn't ask. Are we all still friends? Why don't you recognize any of us if we are? Did we change that much?

How in the world did your dad get over his foot-in-mouth syndrome and convince your mother to marry him?

"And she must love you too."

"Yumi, best girl!"

She chuckled in spite of herself, for the image came to her easily, even if Utahime's signature pigtails didn't fit in the context, too youthful for the maternal image Shoko envisioned.

"Yes, I bet. Does Kaachan love touchan too?"

"Kaachan and touchan and Megu-chan and," Yumi trailed off, getting lost in her list.

She was too young, really, it was a miracle she gave her that much info.

"Wanna watch a cartoon? Pretty sure Satoru has a bunch of DVDs."

Yumi blinked her ocean-blue eyes at her, and Shoko went to sort through his modest collection, wondering once again what suited something her age.

She was just about to give up and turned to ask her if she just wanted to go zooming around the room again when her words died in her throat.

The chair was empty, and all that was left was a lone pair of her sock.

Tokyo, Late December 2021

Shoko, Gojo and Utahime were sitting on the patio, taking a breather over a round of tea and Wagashi when they heard a tumble from inside the house.

They froze, looking at each other for a single moment before Utahime and Satoru were on their feet faster than a breath, Shoko hurrying after them at a more lunged pace.

"Kaachan!" Ayumi ran to her, almost tripping over the air, all smiles.

Flabbergasted, her parents found themselves rooted to the floor and Ayumi crashed into Utahime's legs, jumping up for a hug.

Her mother took her in her arms, processing with the speed of a goldfish. "How did she get here?"

Gojo's concern was more pressing. "Where did she come from?"

"What is she wearing?" Shoko asked the most important question, noticing the abject monstrosity she was sporting with nary a care.

Her beige sock and neon pants clashed in a horrible mismatch of colours that made Shoko shudder.

Satoru kneeled beside Utahime, fetching something from the neckline of Ayumi's shirt. Utahime noticed the pair of sunglasses in his hands, doing a double take when she saw the blackout lens.

"Is that yours?"

He said nothing, turning them over.

Shoko folded her arms together, walking slowly to their side. The ominous feeling only gnawed deeper in her guts.

"Hime, I broke these years ago."

"Gojo," her tone was reproachful.

"They're 2006 edition."

Shoko watched as they stared into each other's eyes and Utahime shook her head, holding Ayumi closer who was only too happy to receive the affection, unaware of the storm she'd just unleashed.

Gojo groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Dammit."

Utahime's voice was hoarse. "I need a fucking beer."

Shoko was already walking outside, debating the repercussions of going out to buy cigarettes.

Two thousand and six.

Fuck.

Notes:

Sadly no 2006 Utahime appearance but I hope I'll manage next time Ayumi-chan is back in 2006. In the meantime she gets panic from her parents as they bemoan their lot in life.

Chapter 5 Notes:

This chapter has spoilers from the manga. Read at your own risk.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kyoto, February 2019

The light patter of the rain inevitably woke him up. That and Utahime rousing him by the shoulders, shaking him awake until his dreams were left with no choice but to dissipate.

"Hey, Satoru."

He had already turned over to his side and snuggled to her torso when she called, his response a measly hum, Satoru well on his path to sleep again.

She sighed curtly, "I need you to wake up here."

"I'm awake," was what he tried to say but it came out warbly and garbled, outing him for the dirty, dirty liar he was.

For her par, Utahime rolled her eyes before she pressed her fingertips to the back of his neck, jostling him from sleep. It worked wonders.

"Shit! That's cold."

"Sorry," she consoled, not apologetic in the least. "But I do have news that I need to tell you."

The word, intended or not, spikes a bout of disquietude in his gut. He took the chance to mentally prepare under the guise of stretching and sitting up, ruffling his hair.

"Good news?" he nonchalantly asked.

"Well… it depends on your perspective, I guess," Utahime trailed off, making the heavy stone of worry settle in his throat.

"I'm listening."

She hesitated, then took a deep breath.

"I am kinda, sorta, maybe pregnant."

His mind blanked. "What?"

"I am having a baby."

It took him a while to acquire newly functioning brain cells but when he did, Gojo turned on their table side lamp, and light flooded the room, illuminating Utahime's features.

Her eyes were wide with apprehension and that, oddly enough, snapped some sense back into him, some semblance of thought that could only let him gasp in wonder.

"I am going to be a father?"

She laughed tearily, nodding.

February's rain had never been so beautiful before.

Tokyo, December 31st 2021

Megumi's breakfast at the Gojos was a leftover habit from after... everything. All parties involved - him, Utahime Gojo, Megumi and unbeknownst to them at the time, Ayumi no bigger than a sweet pea - had decided to nurture it with diligent care.

It made for good company when Megumi desperately needed one that didn't come in the form of former war buddies or classmates, for they tended to get too annoying easily. Now as he helped lay the breakfast dishes on the Chabudai, he questioned what his life had come to.

"So Ayumi-"

"Yep."

Utahime passed him the egg rolls. "We don't wanna talk about it."

"But-"

"We don't want to talk about it," Gojo repeated from his spot at the stove.

Megumi thought it over before he decided to let it go. If they wanted to bury their heads in the metaphorical sand, who was he to deny them?

His head hurt just at the idea of it. Time travel? Impossible.

"It must suck to be you," he said without intent to voice the thought out loud.

They turned as one to bestow him with withering glares. "We don't wanna talk about it."

And that was the end of that; as Gojo and Megumi moved the last dishes to the table, Utahime walked t crouch beside Ayumi who'd been shuffled to along toys and coloured blocks in the living room so they could prepar breakfast.

"Ayumi-chan," Utahime ruffled her hair. "Time to eat."

Yumi turned to look at the low table from her location to make sire that indeed it was time to eat, before she stood up in a hurry, eager to run for food.

"Ah,-ah," Utahime gently pulled her back. "We have to put the toys away first."

Megumi watched as she followed her mother's instructions, sorting each block to return it to its designated spot. "She's gonna be more organised than you."

Her father chuckled good-naturedly. "Food comes first."

Just then, Ayumi barreled to her father's side and he deftly caught her, knowing to expect her hurried tumble. Utahime wiped her hands on her pants, sitting down with a languid stretch.

"Yumi-chan, why were you so late?" Satoru bemoaned. "I am hungry!"

She giggled as he poked her cheek with his nose, nuzzling a precarious spot. Finally, Gojo kissed her head, seating her beside him.

"What do you wanna eat?"

She looked over the assortment of plates at her disposal but before her sweet tooth gravitated towards the french toast, Utahime laid an egg roll and bread slices on Gojo and Ayumi's plate.

Her eyes lit up, successfully diverted.

I know what you're doing, Utahime's glare seemed to tell her husband.

He shrugged as he dutifully filled the bread, giving Ayumi the first bite. Worth a try, he seemed to reply.

Megumi sighed.

Peaceful silence followed, only broken by the occasional thud of the serving spoon, and the crunch of the toast as they slathered it with cream cheese, Ayumi's munching on thinly sliced cucumbers.

"Want more?" Gojo asked Ayumi, who nodded. He piled a few more for her and Utahime cut her bits of bread, dipping them in cheese.

Gojo nudged the teapot to his side, followed by the honeypot. He looked at it for several long moments, feeling the edges of his consciousness tearing into itself.

"Thanks," he said and poured himself a cup.

Today… was not a good day.

Megumi snapped back to reality as he was carrying the plates back to the kitchen sink, forcing his shoulders to relax back as his mind halted its autopilot command.

Gojo washed the dishes under the tap water as Utahime towelled them off. He quietly took the initiative to sort them back into the rack, nodding when Utahime smiled at him in thanks.

Ayumi passed on her plasticware to her father so he'd wash them as well.

Her mother squished her cheeks affectionately when Ayumi rushed to her, looking for praise. "Good job, Yumi-chan."

Yumi gave a full-toothed smile.

He dried the last plates in Utahime's stead, patting his hands on a clean towel to dry them off.

"You're leaving?" Gojo asked, noticing his retreat.

"It's eleven o'clock, I don't wanna be late" he shrugged awkwardly, "Do you wanna come too?"

"It's okay. Utahime and I paid our respects after dawn."

"Oh, okay."

Megumi stretched his neck on his way to the door, suddenly wishing he could take a nap.

It would be quite the walk.

"Gumi, gumi," the soft patter of footsteps was all the warning he got before Ayumi crashed into his legs, clinging to his thigh for all her worth.

He stared at her.

"She wants you to take her with you," Utahime explained. Unnecessary, since he happened to know. "Do you wanna go with Megumi, Ayumi?"

She nodded. "Yumi and Gumi."

Gojo snorted, muffling a laugh in his cup. Megumi glared even if how she said it made them sound like an afterschool special duet, and a cliche one at that.

"It's a long way from here, Yumi-chan."

She blinked, her blue eyes clear as the sky. If possible her grip tightened even more.

"There will be lots of walking."

Ayumi stopped clinging to his leg and immediately lifted her arms.

At that, Utahime and Gojo couldn't hold it back anymore, doubling over as they laughed from the bottom of their hearts.

Megumi sighed, kneeling so that she could climb on his back. "You're raising a lazy bum."

"Satoru does spoil her-" Utahime agreed.

"Of course, I do."

"- but she exercises well enough."

"Too well, I guess," he dryly replied as he stood up.

The effect was instantaneous; Gojo and Utahime seemed to have aged ten years in a second, their shoulders tensing with stress, worry and frustration. Megumi wouldn't have been surprised if he'd returned and Utahime was sporting a few white hairs from the high blood pressure.

Advantage of Satoru being born with a head full of it, he supposed — nothing to lose.

"Eh, sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Just go."

Shoko woke up at noon, having opted to sleep in until her body physically ached from the prolonged rest.

It meant she walked to an empty living room and a quiet house, but that only gave her a momentary pause, for even if she didn't want to lose herself in thought, she appreciated the quiet enough that it tipped the scale in its favour.

'Out getting food, text if you need anything. Breakfast on countertop.'

Shoko plucked Utahime's note from the fridge door, smiling as she thought of the rowdy place this house would become in a matter of hours.

Better than the alternative, New Year's should be celebrated with friends and family.

She took her plate to the patio, content to enjoy the biting winter wind. She'd liked it when she was seventeen too.

Megumi had no roses or chrysanthemums to place at Tsumiki's gravestone, only a stray batch of wildflowers salvaged from the forest. The last few that survived through Autumn and the beginnings of Winter.

The incense burned, coating the air around him in sandalwood.

"Another year is gone," he heard himself say, before he bit his lips, chastised at his stumble. He'd promised he wouldn't weep at her resting place as grief-stricken people did. It would be an insult to her memory.

It would be acknowledgement.

He heard Ayumi giggling in the background and sighed as he stood, searching where she'd disappeared off to. She'd neither occupied herself with a rock nor trouble as he'd expected but rather, shockingly, Okkatsu-senpai.

Megumi gave their surroundings a cursory glance but found no hide or tail of Maki.

"Fushiguro-kun!" His senpai greeted him in between a rigorous round of tickling Ayumi's neck, little pats beneath the neckline of her coat. "Happy New Year!"

"You too. When did you arrive?"

"An hour ago? You know how it is, a long walk from town," he said, nudging below her chin.

It was a long road regardless if it were Kyoto or the school hill, the misery dragging them down.

Yumi let out a particularly loud laugh and Megumi smiled despite himself. She also used to do that as a baby, cackling in short bursts as Yuuji, Nobara and Panda traded her between them.

A sudden weight on his shoulder triggered something twisted inside him, made him swerve on his heels faster than he could blink, ready to attack but all Maki had to offer in return was a wry twist of her eyebrow and an unimpressed blink.

"Come on," Maki said, nudging him on the shoulder. "Let's get going."

"Yes, let's do that."

They left the incense burning behind for the gravestones of the friends and comrades they lost.

Shoko was settled on the couch, watching an old sitcom when they returned with a heap of groceries, and more fried chicken than they knew what to do with.

Utahime's words, not his. Satoru happened to know that this abnormal amount of chicken would get devoured by their rascals in a matter of hours and Yuuji would probably complain that he was still hungry after it all.

Megumi and Ayumi had yet to return, leaving them empty-handed and not a little bit lost after they sorted the food.

Once one had a toddler, any semblance of quiet felt unnatural and eerie.

"What are you thinking about?" Utahime's whisper interrupted his thoughts.

Her arms circled his waist as she hugged him from behind, her nose nudging his back muscles. Satoru could swear some tension in his mouth he didn't know was there seeped out. He laid a hand over hers.

He really did love their veranda.

"Nothing in particular," he pulled her so that she was by his side. "You?"

She pursed her lips, peering at him from beneath her lashes. "Nothing in particular."

"Oh, you don't say."

"Life is full of coincidences," she mumbled.

And time-turning twists and surprises.

He felt rather than heard her weary breath and rubbed her back, careful not to respond with an echo of her own. She'd been so tired, pushing herself to the edge of sickness as she poured over texts.

"It'll be fine."

"I know."

"Ayumi came back twice and she was fine so I guess I'm taking care of her."

"You even bathed her. " Utahime laughed. "I would have paid to see that."

"You see that every couple of days already."

"You know what I mean." she leaned back to study his face, smiling when she found what she was looking for. "You were such a cute teenager."

"I was?"

She'd never told him that. He knew obviously, others complimented him for his beauty more times than he could count on fingers and toes but Utahime? No.

"Hindsight and not fully remembering how insufferable you were back then allows me to appreciate your baby face now."

"You had the baby face, everyone said so."

Utahime's smile froze, lashes fluttering, overcome with a single thought. "Everyone was alive then."

Satoru fell silent because it had plagued him too. Haibara, Nanami, Yaga, Sugu-

"Yes." He said and her embrace tightened around him. "Yes, they were."

The radio glitched as a strong wind blew through the air, the static replaced by festive songs once again.

Something fell to the floor with a sudden crash and Gojo had no sooner thought of turning around to find out what it was than he heard Itadori's voice loud and clear, distraught as ever.

"Senpai, you'll break the countertop!"

"I am not gonna break it, this thing is just sturdy."

"Nishimiya, you better watch that knife or the next thing getting chopped will be your corpse!"

"Kaachan's scary," he told Ayumi, gently painting her index finger with her cool pink Piggy Paint nail polish. "Which colour next?"

Yumi-chan pursed her lips, then in infinite wisdom, answered. "Blue."

"You can't seriously love your countertop more than me. You're not even that good of a cook!"

"I don't care, my husband built me this house, so keep your destructive hands away from the kitchen."

The husband in question tampered down an undignified giggle and the urge to kick his legs. He did build her this house.

A mix of traditional and modern architecture, somewhere between the Tokyo Faculty and the next town over, easy enough to commute, secluded enough for their peace.

"Well, no one told you to live in the middle of nowhere. You had the entire Gojo estate, that place was huge!"

"They moved here so that we could go out and live on our own," Maki dully interjected, turning over the magazine pages. "They were sick of our freeloading."

The kids all fell silent as they processed Maki's words.

Nishimiya's eyebrows rose in surprise. "For real?"

"For real," Satoru and Utahime replied.

Shoko's voice broke through the chaos. "Not like it worked. You're all crappy adults."

"Hey!"

"I am a perfectly capable adult."

"The only one who is doing half well is Miwa."

"Excuse me? I am a proud undergraduate student."

Gojo gently blew on Ayumi's nails, then ended it with one final exhale. "Other hand," he told her.

Five minutes later, Noritoshi was holding Nishimiya back as she tried to kick Panda's shin and Nobara egged him on to let her go and Satoru knew he was old when he realised he was perfectly content to watch the madness unfold without interfering.

Good old days, how fast they went by.

"Excited for the fireworks, Yumi-chan?"

Ayumi nodded, remembering how he'd described them, the many pretty colours in the sky.

He smiled, excited for this core memory of hers. He threw in the air, catching her as they both laughed.

"They're gonna be great."

Niigata, December 31st 2006

The highway was scarce so close to Midnight, no sign of passing cars, no life at all. The world had migrated towards the bustling cities and towns, the family homes, anticipating the start of a new year eagerly. Friends and relatives alike clamouring for the chance to celebrate and be merry.

"How long is the trip back?"

His driver took a minute to answer, startled by the sudden question. "Three hours, at least. I am sorry to say we won't be able to enjoy much of the festivities."

"Doesn't matter," he replied, his voice growing quieter. "I don't really care."

The first firework launched in the sky, an orange firefly in the distant sky, so far away, a speck in his car window glass.

Happy new year.

He closed his eyes against the creeping darkness, but still faint bursts of colours exploded beneath his lids.

Notes:

I wanted a small interjection that focused mainly on Gojo and Utahime's future life so we could see their home and the environment they built for Ayumi and the sort of trauma that still lingers.

I hope you enjoyed reading! If you have any question please feel free to ask, it helps me come with ideas too lol.

Chapter 6 Notes:

HAPPY JJK SEASON 2 GUYS. I have only had teenage Utahime for six hours but if anything happened to her, I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself.

Also new season means new update (I literally sat down to finish the chapter). LESSGOOOO!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kyoto, November 2019

Ayumi wailed, desperately crying for her mother.

Swiftly, Utahime hurried to her crib and picked her up, softly apologising for the long wait, assuring her that she was here and Yumi-chan quieted down, instinctually recognising that her needs would soon be met.

She hummed a little under her breath, entertaining her little darling while she adjusted the cushions of her rocking chair, taking off her slippers when she settled down. The wisteria outside framed the scenery of the window for her sole pleasure, making her sigh.

A tug of her maternity dress and she presented her breast for Ayumi who heartily dug in.

She giggled. "That hungry, huh?"

It was, admittedly, a relief for her sore chest to alleviate the building pressure, the tension seeping out of her and so she slumped against the backrest, running soothing circles along the back of Ayumi's soft foot.

Her toes curled and Utahime smiled, a bang shot in her chest.

So small, so precious.

"You're so lovely, Yumi-chan," she told her, a finger swiping across the tuft of hair, glistening black like hers. Satoru had been delighted. "Do you know how much you mean to Touchan and Kaachan, huh? The whole world."

Ayumi's hurried suckling was getting more and more tempered, lulled to a quiet doze and her eyes opened to stare at her mother.

She smiled down at the baby's grey eyes, still yet to gain colour. "You made us very happy, the happiest actually. We'd do anything to keep you safe."

Anything, anything.

Everything.

"All we want is for you to be healthy and just as happy, Yumicchi. So grow up well."

Grow up well, grow up good, grow up out of harm.

Grow up.

She sniffled, hurriedly swiping away her tears, trying to keep the agony at bay. The memories long gone out of her head.

Utahime furiously wiped the back of her hand against her nose, cleaning her blotchy cheeks in the fabric of her pyjamas.

Babies were emphatic creatures, they sensed their mothers' fluctuating moods as if they were burrowed in their hearts, situated in their pulmonary vein, and no wonder, for they were nurtured in their wombs for months with care, the closest to their mother, closer than anyone could ever be, and so Ayumi began to cry as well.

"No, no, I am sorry," she said, choking on her tears. "Don't cry, Yumi-chan."

Her daughter cried even more fiercely in return, exhausting her small lungs over her mother's sorrows.

"I'm not sad, I promise." Liar liar, pants on fire. "Just some bad memories."

Her hands came to her daughter's back and she adjusted her so that the baby was supported across her front, her head on her shoulder, and she started to pat her, slowly, gently, until she was able to quell her tears.

"You don't have to cry for me, Ayumi," she told her, whispering. "Just having you around is enough to make me feel better, okay, sweet girl?"

Yumi yawned, her little mouth scrunching open before she slowly drifted to sleep to her mother singing in her ears.

Tokyo, early January 2022

"Oi, Sensei, isn't it too cold for this bullshit?"

Satoru adjusted his umbrella, looking down at a shivering Nobada-chan with a blinding smile.

"Nope. This bullshit is irrespective of time, weather, temperament or health!"

She shuddered within the lapels of her petticoat as she glared at his upbeat attitude and devil-may-care strut. Today was not her day at all.

"What am I supposed to be exorcising, Bigfoot?"

He let her mouth off to her heart's content, hoping that would do the job and warm her up. "Just some boring first-grade curse."

"This is gonna be fifty per cent of my grade, won't it?"

"Seventy~"

"Motherf-"

"Language, Nobara-chan."

"Don't language me, ugh. I could be sleeping right now."

"Well, we must work hard," he said, stretching languidly. "Be good role models."

"You have a kid so that checks out. Who do I have to be a role model for?" She grumbled, sinking in on herself when he leaned on her shoulder. Nobara seethed at his added weight and gigantic proportions.

Still, she offered nary a protest; Nobara hardly wanted him to answer her question, to remind her of the few freshmen the school in some stroke of luck was able to attract after the cataclysm that was Shibuya, the culling games, Sukuna. They were young and gullible and fearless as bunnies, the type Okkatsu's Rika would munch on as party snacks.

Clueless sorcerers to be.

"I thought you'd have gone with Fushiguro."

"Nah, Megumi-chan is having lunch with us this afternoon and for some reason he didn't seem too excited about seeing me twice."

"Poor you."

"His loss, I happen to be excellent company. I'm Yumi-chan's favourite person, you know."

She smirked. "Are you?"

"Yep, in the whole world, in fact. I have it written on paper. She signed it."

"With her foot?" Nobara guessed.

He gasped. "Ayumi told you?"

She shook her head, not even bothering to retort. Poor kid was going to have many, many embarrassing memories and there was no saving her.

"Let's get this done. I wanna have sashimi."

Waiting for his answer, only the wind greeted her in return. Nobara looked to the side only to find his spot empty.

She sighed.

One would think he'd dipped on her, leaving her stranded in the middle of the city, and they wouldn't be at fault to assume so when he'd done it before - the ass. But no, he was standing at the window of a toy shop, marvelling over one of the models.

Nobara turned on her heels, going to his side.

"This would be a great interactive toy for Ayumi. Do you think they have a more toddler-friendly version?" He squinted as he took a closer look, mumbling under his breath. "I don't like the look of these parts. They're too small."

She watched him debate the merits of buying it and the practicality of its choking hazards at the foot of shop window for several minutes before Nobara rolled her eyes.

This is what she got for having a family guy as a teacher.

Tokyo, mid-January 2022

"Ayumi-chan," Satoru sing-songed. "I am gonna get you."

For her part she vehemently protested, screaming a loud no for the entire world to hear as she giggled, running as fast as her little feet could carry.

He only sped up the tiniest amount, enough to scare her into running even faster, to beat him at his pace and dump her ball in the correct bin.

(So he was walking at, what could be best described, as a yoga mom run while Ayumi was fighting tooth and nail, his toddler didn't need to know that.)

"Touchan, touchan," with her tiny feet, she rushed back towards him, colliding straight with his legs. She looked up at him with a toothy grin. "Won!"

"You did?" He asked, putting on an air of travesty.

She nodded, declaring once again. "Won!"

"We have to check," he gravely informed her. "You could have counted wrong."

Ayumi glared, pouting. "No."

"I'm just making sure." He picked her up so she was settled on his hip, kissing her frown.

Much like Utahime's, it was absolutely adorable!

She grumbled.

Which was well and truly moot when she helped him count them, saying out the numbers out loud - ichi, ni, san - without mistake, only minute stumbles that made a streak of melancholy run through him at the thought of her previous fails and her learning curve, how fast every moment flew by, how unattainable once they were done and gone.

Then Ayumi said roku, proudly discarding four and five from consideration and he laughed, knocking their heads together.

He could have them for a little while longer.

Utahime watched from her spot in the shadows, her eyes crinkling at the image before she turned the page of her book.

Tokyo, late January 2022

Ayumi watched her father's hand draw long strokes across the piece of paper on his lap. A circle, two lines, more squiggles that she didn't know. Touchan had said they were called kanji and that she was going to learn them one day.

What was she gonna learn about squiggles, Ayumi certainly didn't know.

She wiggled in his hold in discomfort as the minutes passed by and they sat long and still and without missing a beat, he turned her so she was more comfortable, messaging her back with his free hand.

"Touchan?"

He smiled down at her. "Yes, Yumi-chan."

"What this?"

"It's a seal."

Ayumi eyes were blank, mystified.

"It's gonna help Yumi-chan."

"Help Yumi-chan?" she repeated with a tilt of her head.

"Yep," he ruffled her hair. "Cause Yumi-chan can do lots of awesome things."

"Things?"

He hummed.

Slightly awe-inspiring and enough to strike fear into his old and seasoned heart. Satoru wished there was a way to know what he ought to do to keep his little girl out of trouble, away from harm, some way to find her if she travelled far away - what would happen if her technique were to go astray in her small hands and she landed in the Heian era or worse the nineteen forties, stranded through the aftermath of the nuclear bombing, who would protect her, who would shield her from the disasters and the horrors - it worried him so much and yet he could only make up a formula to keep her energy at bay.

"Ayumi, sit beside me, okay," he studied his scribbles, nodding when he was satisfied. "I wonder what would happen if…" he trailed off and then slapped it on his hand.

Nothing happened.

"I guess I need to work on it some more."

"Touchan," Yumi-chan climbed on his lap. "Nap."

"You tired? Me too."

She slumped in his arms, giving him her puppy eyes. "Kaachan."

He pouted but it was only half-hearted, for Ayumi showered him in enough adoration that he had no grounds for complaints and Utahime was his second favourite person so it checked out.

"You still love me, right, Yumi-chan?" he asked her as they headed to the bedroom.

"Love touchan," she replied, already starting to doze off.

Utahime was in a similar state when he enteres, the curtains drawn closed, the scent of chamomile oil sprinkled in the air, and almost entirely asleep but her eyes fluttered open when he laid Ayumi down on the bed, reaching forward to pull her so she was snuggled in her arms.

"You're not gonna sleep?"

"Nah."

"Rest a little," she murmured, already drifting off again. "Tis cold."

He adjusted the blankets around their shoulders.

Satoru spread the crumbled paper, the circles, and symbols he drew before he thought of something new.

This one would work.

Tokyo, February 2007

The rain was sweeping the grounds of the school without mercy, coating the atmosphere in dew and soil. Gojo's favourite weather.

He hummed some silly tune, the water squelching beneath the sole of his shoes, rolling around his limitless barrier. His umbrella was mostly for show but long habits died hard.

The school animals must have thought the same.

The meows didn't grab his interest at first; it took Gojo a whole minute before he noticed the insistent squeals at his foot and Satoru felt something within him light up at the baby cat meowing up at him, demanding his attention.

"Hi," he crouched. "You want treats?"

It certainly nudged him for one. Gojo gave her an apologetic pat on the back.

"Sorry, I don't have any with me today, I just came back you know."

He applied gentle pressure between her ears.

"This one was something big, a whole nest of them. Nasty curses took out ten kids and three adults and killed a sorcerer."

The kitten rolled around against his palm, rubbing its ears on his knuckles as it purred.

Satoru laughed a little. It reminded him of Yumi-chan, oddly enough, the little squirt constantly wanting to be held and hugged, sticking to him like glue.

His smile tightened.

Guess... she really wasn't coming back.

That was for the best, wasn't it? Better than the mess it had caused before, the secrecy and the confusion. Now he'd focus; train and fight and go on mission after mission after mission after mission after mission.

The honoured one.

"I didn't take you for a cat person."

There was only one person who could sound so steadfast and annoyed, soft all the same. He grinned. "Utahime!"

"Tchk, it's Utahime-senpai."

"You still yap about that?"

"Gojo, you little shit," her voice rose. "You're a pain in the ass."

"Proud to be," he turned to face her with a peace sign, faltering midstep.

"What?" she gave him a cursory glance as she kneeled down beside him, offering her palm to the kitten, her frown hidden beneath the edges of her bangs. They had grown, probably half about a centimetre longer and her hairbands were nowhere in sight, her hair free to the whims of the wind.

"Nothing." Silly, it would be silly to give voice to his observation. "Watcha doing here?"

"Hmm, just thought to drop by." There were soft meows as she stroked the underside of its chin. "I promised Shoko and Haibara I'd get them something nice from my last mission."

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing, just…"

She sounded forlorn.

Utahime frowned. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You're making fun of me," she scowled.

"Nah."

"You are!" She rose to her feet, stomping away, much to the distress of the little kitten who ran after her as fast as its paws could.

"I don't need to make fun of you, Utahime. You're such a scaredy cat that I only need to sit back and watch."

"Ugh, you jerk. I'm not a scaredy cat."

"You jumped and screeched like a banshee when we popped your birthday poppers."

"That was a year ago!"

"Last month you hit your head because you thought you heard a ghost."

That made her face sour. "I hope you stab your toes."

"That's impossible, I'm untouchable."

"I'll make sure to pray extra hard for your misery then."

"Oh," he stared at her, shocked, "you pray for me?"

If she'd heard his question, she ignored it and him altogether; Utahime had picked up the kitten and was marching away, giving him the middle finger as she left.

Surely her statement implied that, did it not? Gojo mulled it over, his eyes to the sky in thought before he shrugged. A win was a win.

Something woke him up from his deep slumber, rousing him until he opened his eyes with a groan, wiping his face. His head was woozy from the disruption and his thoughts jumbled beyond recognition. It shook his shoulder again, that tight grip, and Satoru turned around.

His heart fell to the bottom of his stomach and his hand trembled with the beginning of gathering sweat. There, hovering above his face in the bitch black darkness, were two sapphire balls, appearing and disappearing at random intervals.

"Touchan?"

Gojo Satoru screamed at the top of his lungs.

Notes:

Ayumi chan is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack to the past.

I have a lot of shenanigans planned, hehe but if you wanna see how Gojo deals with a particular situation, tell me in the comments! And also tell me what you thought of the first episode and Utahime in particular. (She was as every bit as cranky as I'd hoped she'd be but she was waaaaay cuter than I'd expected. I love her). I'm so excited for this season.

Chapter 7 Notes:

Hello guys. So, I'm back. Sorry for the wait.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tokyo, February 2007

Today was not Gojo's day.

Haibara was muffling his snickers in the sleeves of his Pyjama shirt, Nanami's smile was splitting his face, horrifying in its uncharacteristic appearance, while Suguru chuckled, his hair tousled, face pleased.

Shoko had slid down the wall about five minutes ago, rapping her fist against it from the sheer force of her hysterical laughter. The fucking traitor.

"I'm still waiting for someone to talk."

Yaga's reprimand made her laugh harder, and their schoolmates joined in. His ears were at threat of overheating.

Thank god, the third and fourth years were not around to see it.

"It was nothing," he mumbled.

"Then who was screaming like a banshee just now?"

Shoko laughed again.

He scowled. "No one."

In the background, Yumi was giggling without restraint, her feet kicking in reflex, as Utahime showered her with kisses upon kisses on her cheeks, nuzzling their faces together. All to wipe away her startled tears, brought forth by the earlier shock.

"Who's the best girl, huh?" she cooed, smothering her with another smooch. "Who scared her stinky dad with her gorgeous, gorgeous eyes and made him squeal like a baby racoon? You did, Yumi-chan!"

What an insult on every front imaginable, when he was neither stinky nor a baby racoon and was most certainly the source of the gorgeous, gorgeous eyes Utahime was so keen on complimenting.

"You're the prettiest, Yumi-chan, yes, you are. Yes, you are."

She'd never told him he had pretty eyes, a pretty face or a pretty anything.

Yaga's eyes bore into him with relentless intensity. Satoru looked in the other direction.

"Are you gonna tell me what has happened?"

Was that… sympathy in the old man's tone? Was this some sort of universal Shaman experience that people had to undergo? Was it linked to this beguiling fatherhood he'd suddenly acquired?

Utahime made exaggerated kissing noises and Ayumi cackled in delight. The boys laughed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Yaga sighed. "Everyone, go to your rooms. You have missions tomorrow. Utahime, you have work."

She fell silent at his reminder, clinging to Ayumi.

His flat stare yielded no arguments.

"To your rooms."

They shuffled their feet as if about to follow his order and he headed to his quarters. They all froze when his footsteps faded out of hearing range, looking at each other in wait for someone to break the silence.

Shoko flopped onto her back, feet perched on the wall, lying next to Satoru - his back next to her shoes, legs on the ground - and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Divine payback is sweet indeed."

Utahime grinned.

No, today was not Gojo's day at all.

He was the centerpiece of the whole entire world, to be serenaded with cheers.

Except-

The cheers were for the train of blood that fell in slow drops, the macabre trail in his wake. He was the emissary to their accomplishment, the herald to their supposed salvation, covered in white with a dangling hand of death.

Satoru blinked, heavy and slow, his heartbeat sluggish, the world glittering and sickening. He could not understand.

Why the running blood, when it should have already dried when Amani had died hours and hours past-

Gojo blinked and the ceiling snapped into view.

There was a heavy, warm weight across his chest.

Surprised at his surprise, he crunched to take a look, seeing Ayumi lying halfway to a perpendicular alignment before he relaxed back into his mattress.

"You have a lot of nerve to cuddle after what you did," he grumbled then shimmied so he could sleep on his left side.

Ayumi inevitably rolled with him, caught in his winds. Her clothes rolled up her tummy.

Satoru huffed a breath, threw the blanket over both of them and went back to sleep.

If he'd thought his woeful incident from last night would be forgotten and laid to rest, he was sourly disappointed.

"I hope you get enough beauty sleep," Shoko snickered.

As soon as he sat down, Suguru turned to him with an arched brow, his cheeks less full than he was used to. Then before Satoru could open his damn mouth, the asshole smirked.

"Course he did, we didn't hear any screaming."

His lips pursued but he remained calm. He was going to be the bigger person. Take that.

"Touchan, touchan!"

The world was conspiring against him. "What?"

"Eat." Yumi-chan pouted.

"The food is right here."

She lifted her hands so he could seat her beside him. Gojo grumbled.

"You're a slave driver."

"Touchan."

"What?"

"Eat."

He picked a few Kofuki Imo, presenting it her dainty inspection. Yumi-chan munched on the bits with wide eyes.

"Never ate potatoes before?"

"Tato," she repeated, the food circling in her mouth.

He dipped the next batch in soy sauce, observing his utensils with a thoughtful hum.

"Can you use chopsticks, Yumi?"

"She wouldn't be able to," Utahime's voice answered behind him in her stead.

"Why not?"

"Underdeveloped motor skills. Chopsticks need fine control."

Her hair was still unbound as it was yesterday, all smooth silk and shining gleam, her much beloved red ribbons discarded. It made her look the slightest bit older, her full cheeks no longer framed by her pigtails, eroding just the smallest bit of her youthful aura away.

"Good morning, Yumi-chan. Did you have a good night's sleep?"

His little hellion fell silent, munching on her new favourite vegetable with newfound shyness, her eyes fluttering.

Utahime smiled, small and gentle. "Did you sleep well?"

Yumi nodded eagerly, the shyness apparently forgotten.

Utahime chuckled, setting her tray down as she joined them at the table.

"Look what I got you!"

The smallest plate held an assortment of seasonal fruit: Mikan Mandarine, kiwi and strawberries. Utahime presented them to Yumi's inspection, hoping to entice her.

"Do you want one?"

She nodded once again, the excitement casting a sparkle in her eyes.

"Good morning, everyone," Haibara jovially greeted them, pulling a chair as he arrived.

Nanami followed suit and Satoru observed them as they rounded the table, over-clustering it with their presence.

"I thought Yaga said we had missions."

"Must have been a fluke."

"You all were very noisy," Utahime told them, feeding Yumi her first kiwi. Not batting a single lash at her declaration, as if half the noise hadn't been because of her. "He couldn't wait to get rid of you."

"Impossible. He misses us as soon as we leave."

"Shoko-senpai is that true?"

Utahime observed Yumi eat, giggling under her breath as she pushed a strawberry into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks. Gojo wondered if she realised she was exhibiting the first signs of obsession.

"Maybe for you, Haibara," Shoko amended her statement of irony.

Suguru laughed.

The Limitless needed to be taken higher, further. It needed to be as easy as breathing, as instinctual as a blink. For that he needed equations and reformulation, driving the mechanism to be able to power itself.

It was interesting work and Gojo would admit to having gotten too lost in the breakdown of the infinite series representation too many times, going through loops of the divergence point. The basics would always be his starting hint.

Yumi peered over his shoulders from her perch on his bed while he sat on the floor, studying his maths scrawl.

It was quiet in his room; Yaga's promised missions clutched Suguru, Nanami and Haibara by the cuffs, sent on duties that would last a couple of days and Shoko was herded to the infirmary for practice as well, leaving him to seek sanctuary in his room undisturbed.

"What do ya think? Good enough?"

Yumi blinked, comically close to his face.

"Kinda wish you could get me some of my future notes. Think you can do it?"

She looked at his theories again, her nose scrunched in confusion.

He guffawed.

"It's okay, it's too advanced anyway."

His smile fell as he recalled her miraculous feat; overcoming the bounds of space-time, breaking the light barrier.

"Or maybe not."

Yumi, however, was positively unconcerned by his existential crisis, hugging his neck. "Touchan."

"What now?"

"Bored."

"Are you now?"

"Booored," she dramatically sprawled on the bed.

He laid his work aside, and pulled her down, a motion she was happy to follow, settling in his lap.

"Eh, me too, whatddya wanna do?"

"Play," she predictably answered.

"Sure."

Yumi-chan practically lit up, bouncing on his knees.

"Stop jumping, there are bones under there."

She laughed, all of it the funniest joke to her, bumping their heads together. Gojo caught a whiff of her hair and grimaced.

"Ew. Yumi-chan, you stink."

His fault really, for neglecting her hygiene for two days or was it three? When was the last time she had a bath? Could that be known from inspection alone? Would it be possible for future him to launch her into the wormhole with a status report in hand?

"We need help, desperately," he told her, tapping his foot on the wooden boards.

Yumi paid attention to his plight for all three seconds before she started running, determined to do good on his earlier promise.

Just what he needed.

"Gojo, hold her properly," Utahime snapped.

"Relax," he rolled his eyes. "She's fine."

Satoru folded a hand in his pocket while the other clutched a 13 kg being by the midsection, rolled under his arm like a clutch. If Yumi-chan had any issues, she was undoubtedly abstaining from expressing them, making zooming noises as they walked.

"She's gonna get sick, you fool."

"Nah, she won't."

"I didn't realise you were such an expert on parenthood."

He shoved Ayumi forward in his grip. "I'm literally carrying the proof in my arms."

"Either you grew a brain or someone lost theirs for that to happen."

"And yet I'm still the one with more ground to have actual input."

She made a clicking noise with her tongue that was half tut and half sigh. It made him snicker, proud of her drawn ire.

He was the first winner in the championship for Utahime's nerves.

Utahime knocked on Panda's nursery.

It would always fascinate his eyes; the draw of curse energy in its corpse, how the flow turned and roiled in every cell in Panda's body, not unlike Sorcers, very different from the living biology, unmanufactured.

"Good morning, Panda-kun."

"Hi, Utahime."

"I was wondering if we could ask a favour. Do you have a pair of clothes we can borrow?"

"I'm not giving you any. Shoko asked the same and didn't return them."

It's not like he was missing much, the neon things were an objective monstrosity. Still, Satoru said not a word.

"Well, I'm not going to do that."

Panda frowned, turning to the child in his arms.

"Please, Yumi-chan needs them."

Panda's stitched eyes were focused on Yumi. Utahime smiled.

"Would you like to play with her?"

Panda turned to Utahime. She gave him an encouraging tip of her head.

"It would be fun, right?"

"I don't know."

She leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, a few strands of her hair sliding down her shoulder with the movement. "Yumi-chan loves Hide and Seek."

Satoru was lucky his glasses hid his frown because he couldn't help it any more than he could help to peer down at Yumi, who had flopped in his arms, her arms and legs dangling in the air. Her head moved here and there as she stared at the ground.

Did she like Hide and Seek? Was that a prerequisite for all children?

Panda was enthralled. Being the only child on campus was bound to get lonely. "Oh."

"But she has to take a shower before she plays and she needs clothes. So would it bother you much if she could borrow a shirt and shorts?" Gojo nudged her in the foot for underwear, and Utahime tried to stomp on his shoes in retaliation. "I'll make sure to return them."

Entranced by her words and promises, the furball finally acquiesced.

"Okay."

Small mercies Yaga liked to stash clothes for Panda like he was an actual human child. Parents were weird but if it meant he could solve his issues then that was well and fine by him.

Yumi's demands for playtime didn't let down as he cajoled her into the bath, and he found himself having to acquiesce, inventing some variation of 'I Spy'. He ended up becoming far more intimate with his bathroom than he'd anticipated. She managed to point out a lost shampoo bottle that he'd thrown aside six months ago and promptly forgot about.

She was also bad at counting, Gojo made her count up and ended with five different numbers where three ought to be which made him laugh so hard that Yumi joined in, thinking it was all a game.

Now, she'd been dried and combed, Utahime sparing a few bands for her pigtails, finishing off the look with twin star clips.

"What do you think, pretty?"

Yumi nodded, her left eye closing as Utahime slathered cream all over her cheek, thumb smoothing it over.

"And we're done. You can go play now."

She dashed to the outside, Gojo tripping over himself to catch her. "Hey! Give me a warning next time."

Utahime snorted at his situation. "Karma is well and real."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, aghast, steering Yumi-chan towards safer pastures. The gardens, definitely the gardens.

She followed after them. "Just that it serves you right that your kid drives you up the wall."

"I'm a blessing to the world."

She gave him the side-eye. "Few and far would agree and none of them would be me."

"Points for the rhyme."

"Gojo, fuck you-"

He gasped, clutching his metaphorical pearls and hurried to cover Yumi's ears. "Can't you watch your mouth, there's a baby here."

"Ugh."

Yumi wiggled to be set free and he directed her to the Maple. Utahime was already waking away, her hair swishing in the light breeze.

Unbound, unfamiliar.

"Hey, Utahime."

She sighed but didn't stop, answering over her shoulders. "What is it now, Gojo?"

"Why…"

His question shrivelled and died before it could form.

She turned ever so slightly so she could meet his eyes, the beginnings of a frown on her face, more curious than angry.

He tried to crush the brittle twig beneath the sole of his shoes before the lack of sound alerted him to his futile effort. Satoru's infinity was up; to release his frustration, he'd have to release the technique itself.

Some things remained the same and some things…

Some things could only change.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

Tokyo, February 2022

Utahime poured the water over the soil, careful not to dump it over the tiny buds. It would, she thought ruefully, be a desperate kind of sad for them to die from carelessness when they were meant as gifts for her friends.

After all, it was the least she could do for them; a sprinkle of flowers to usher Spring to their graves.

"Utahime-sensei. You're here early!"

"Good morning, Yuuji-kun."

He smiled sun bright as he crouched beside her, his shoes stepping over the patches of spilt water. "Can I help?"

"Nah, it's okay. I'm almost done."

"Where's Ayumi-chan?"

Her smile slipped as the worry crept back in. "Away."

"Did Gojo-sensei's seal not work?"

She shrugged.

"I guess that makes sense." He rubbed his head. "Any kid you and Gojo-sensei had would be super powerful."

Did it? Neither had thought of it; power and strength were the farthest things on their mind. They'd simply coveted to build a life in all the leftover carnage.

Something sweet, something theirs.

A well and foolish thought, the Utahime of a mere four years ago would argue. She whose technique was a prize for any clan, who'd heard theories of her progeny, their prophesied evolution, would surely know better than to step in without planning.

But that was then, tradition and hierarchy and higher overlords, today was another in the aftermath of their broken world. The crumbling era of Sorcerery.

Pitiful numbers spared.

"Is something wrong, Sensei?"

Utahime shook her head. The wind howled in her ears and whipped her hair to the side.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

Notes:

I missed writing Gojo and baby Ayumi so much but I had lots of fun writing this chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading as well.

Are we excited for Shibuya? :D I can't wait to suffer.

Chapter 8 Notes:

How are we doing against Shibuya?

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tokyo, Late February 2007

Suguru returned after three days and two nights, a trail of death in his wake.

He looked like shit.

"I feel it too."

"You haven't been well."

Suguru shrugged, reaching forward to tug on Yumi's hair with a smile. He watched with morbid curiosity, half hoping he'd wake her so she'd cry and wail about her disrupted sleep. Let Suguru fumble in panic for a change.

No, he was not bitter at all. Gojo Satoru holding a grudge? Never.

Yumi, disappointingly, merely snored.

"Wow, I didn't know she could do that."

"Probably couldn't hear it over yours."

"Bitch."

He laughed. "Utahime is right, it does feel like karmic justice has finally got you."

Yumi-chan snored again, a good enough sign that he ought to get her to bed.

Suguru snorted as Satoru struggled to juggle her, her shoes and the snacks he got for them earlier, hoping he could scourge them down before he went to bed - he was very hungry.

Could future-him compensate him for babysitting? Gojo personally felt like he should.

"Good job, errand boy."

To reiterate, bitch.

Utahime held a secret beneath the delicate bones of her ribcage, safeguarded deep in her heart.

A secret might have been a stretch though, an exaggeration, for indeed they knew, everyone knew. Of her longing and her aspirations, her fervent desires.

She would climb the ranks, she would ascend.

As she ran her comb down the length of her hair, she observed how her hair bowed to the pressure of its teeth, smoothing every tangle away.

Her tresses were her identity and she'd remind everyone of it. They would see her childish cut discarded and be sure that she'd grown and give her a chance to prove herself, to get that rank, her recognition, the proof of her place as a sorcerer because she helped and she was strong and she'd show them.

They'd see.

She would do it, one day. Utahime knew it well enough.

"I have a mission."

"No," Shoko immediately replied.

"I didn't even say anything!" He protested, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, playing the wounded soldier.

She was unmoved.

"Please," he immediately resorted to begging.

Ayumi opened her mouth for cucumbers and crackers dipped in cheese. Gojo obliged her, sneaking a couple on the way.

Kids apparently operated on a cycle of naps and food. Good for them.

Shoko narrowed her eyes at his deliberate chewing noises. Suguru took some to add to his symphony.

"I am not doing it."

"You did it last time."

"I was under duress."

"I am under duress."

"Well, I'm supposed to be under a corpse so tough luck, Satoru-kun."

He opened his mouth but then his brain caught up to the words coming out of her mouth. "You're supposed to be under what now?"

"Hiromi-san said he's gonna teach me how to properly get rid of sorcerer bodies so that they don't evolve into curses."

"Don't we just set them on fire?"

He dipped the next cracker, feeding it to the little chick beside him. The next was for his benefit, and Gojo licked his lips at the subtle taste, knowing he was gonna detour to the kitchen for something more substantial.

"He told me there's more to it than that. Something about the positive energy we use can-"

And that was when her explanation turned gibberish, a series of action noises and terms that made no sense and which Shoko pretended they did.

"Can't you babysit on the side?"

Suguru's head snapped towards them.

"What if she started digging in their intestines?"

"Then don't leave their stomach open, Shoko."

"I can't just leave them in there."

Yumi-chan climbed up the seat so that she could reach the cucumbers herself in a show of independence and Satoru smiled, condescending. "That's where they're supposed to be."

"You know what," Suguru interjected, feeling very out of place in his new role. Between the three of them, it was always Shoko caught in the middle, reluctant to play the role of meditator. In contrast, Geto couldn't help but step in; his friends were about to traumatise a kid for life, "I will babysit Yumi-chan."

Yumi turned at the sound of her name and he tried for a small smile. She grinned toothily.

"Fine by me," Shoko shrugged, back to sweeping her biology textbook, her Japanese homework trapped between the pages.

Satoru's eyes shone. "You're the best, Suguru!"

Not for the first time, he wondered at the insanity of Yumi's mother; to have willingly procreated with him. If she heard what nonsense her child's father had been spouting, she might very well faint.

He coughed.

Yumi-chan was all blue eyes looking up at him, waiting for him to speak. He scratched at his head and wanted to groan.

Truthfully, he'd woken up with hopes of getting caught up on sleep with an afternoon nap and finishing some of his mathematics assignments - Yaga had given them, first and second years, a scathing dressing down for their neglect, while Satoru snickered on the side as he gloated; the golden child for once.

This was not it.

"What do you wanna do?"

She remained silent, uncharacteristically timid and Sugur realised that it was the first time they'd been alone.

Or was it?

Wouldn't Satoru exchange visits and vice versa if he'd gotten married?

"Do you know who I am?"

She made an odd motion with her mouth, skin pulled, lips pursed. "Susu."

"It's actually Suguru," he said with a light laugh, "which can be shortened to Sugu so I guess Susu isn't that far off."

Yumi leaned to the side, her eye holding an inquiring glint to them.

She was so young, Geto would have no ground to forget when she reached below his hips, her hair barely going her chin, cropped in a traditional youngling cut. Her stuttering half-formed words and fluttering attention.

It did not stop him from wishing: for answers and respite, clues. He wanted Yumi-chan to tell him of the future she came from, how far and what changed and who they became but he smothered his questions and curiosities, his desperate hunger for reassurance.

Surely this couldn't be all there was to life?

He'd be no better than the people he hated with passion if he asked her, uncaring for her naivete or innocence.

"Come on, let's look around for something to do."

Panda intercepted them on their long and arduous search. Well, intercepted was generous. He spied them as they walked through the halls and then stuck to their tails for the next fifteen minutes, hiding behind the beams.

Suguru, of course, had noticed immediately but he'd shrugged and let the furry corpse be. Far be it for him to stop Panda if he wanted to toddle after them with the subtlety of a… well, a child.

To be honest, he had more pressing things to worry about.

"Yumi-chan!"

She almost crashed down the stairs but he caught her with well-honed reflexes and a considerable sprint, plucking her up by the waist.

"You get into a lot of trouble, don't you?"

She shook her head fervently. "Yumi best girl."

He laughed. Was Satoru the one who'd told her that or was it her ever elusive mother?

"Are you?"

She nodded.

"Then don't run."

"Kay."

He set her down slowly.

Geto swore as he hurried to pick her up again; catching her before she bolted.

"Yumi-chan, did you just lie to me?"

She seemed properly ignorant of the world, her mouth open as her legs dangled in the air.

Not the face of a liar, more of a confused chick vying for food, in Ayumi's case, chaos.

"Where were you going?"

"Flower."

Or appreciation for the wildlife.

"Why?"

"Kaachan."

What a baffling turn of the conversation. Worse, he had no idea how this connected to that.

He offered another gentle smile, feeling a creeping headache in the edges of his brain. When Satoru returned, Suguru would make sure to properly throttle him, revered techniques of the Gojo clan be damned.

"Okay, we'll go. Just don't run, okay?"

He gave her his hand to illustrate his point and Yumi-chan studied it for several long seconds, the delicate pinch of her mouth decidedly un-Satoru-like, before she brightened and clasped it tight, allowing her to steer her away.

Panda followed after them.

She was tired after five minutes, standing over him with her - well great was an understatement because Yumi-chan wasn't tall enough to block out a 2-watt lamp, much less the sun - shadow.

He didn't open his eyes. "You okay?"

"Hug."

He laughed and sat up. "You want a hug?"

Yumi nodded.

"Okay." He supposed he could indulge. "Come here."

She stopped, staring at him with that uncomprehending look as if he said something completely out of pocket, and he faltered, wondering if he'd misinterpreted and was now the idiot in this situation.

But Yumi rushed into his arms, over her momentary train of thought. Suguru ruffled her hair, some of her bangs standing in a cowlick.

"Does this feel nice?"

"Yeah!" She exclaimed in his ears.

It was.

Nicer than most things these last weeks. Given that those 'most things' were curses and stupid morons - monkeys, his mind hissed - perhaps that was more of an insult to Yumi than compliment.

"Do you want to play?"

The magic word; a smile of delight, a bounce on her heels, Panda appearing from his hidden spot.

"Can I join?"

The elusive Bear appears, he thought, amused.

"Hmm?"

"Utahime promised me we'd play."

"Did she?"

"She said if I gave them clothes, I could play with the baby."

"Baby?" Yumi-chan asked, head turning left and right, unaware that she was it.

Suguru patted her on the shoulders.

"What game?"

On a good day Panda seemed like he wanted to bite into his thigh, today he looked particularly cross.

"Hide and seek."

"Ask her then."

Panda stared at her, bemused by Yumi in her entirety.

"Let's play."

"Okay."

It wasn't a request, more of an order but Yumi-chan was content enough to follow after Panda, and Suguru was left with thoughts and heartache and the vaguest sense of rushing towards relief with no salvation in sight.

Geto was startled out of his reverie with a shout and a high-pitched wail.

Disoriented, he blinked furiously, rushing to his feat to the designated play spot, and found Panda standing over Ayumi, crying her heart out.

"Why are you screaming?" Panda asked but Yumi-chan only cried louder.

"Panda," Suguru approached, "what did you do?"

"Nothing. We were just running."

There were no visible injuries he could discern. No lacerations or open wounds and yet fat tears fell down her cheeks.

"Yumi, what is it?"

She looked at him with blue eyes. "Kaachan," she croaked in misery.

"I'm afraid she's not here."

That made her more distressed.

"Touchan."

"He's not here either."

Yumi wailed again.

Panda judged him with beady eyes, holding him responsible for the situation at hand. "I change my mind. Babies are stupid."

Suguru watched him as he ran to his father's room, leaving him to futilely console Yumi.

"It's okay. He's gonna come back soon. If you want something, you can tell me instead."

She cried some more. He offered sympathetic pats to her head.

They remained like that for all of five seconds before he heard the snap of grass

"Geto-kun, what are you doing?"

He tried to belie his discomfort at his current predicament. "Yumi-chan is a little upset."

Utahime's eyes softened, kneeling beside the little crying girl. "Yumi? Yumi-chan?"

She turned to Utahime, took one look at her face and snot fell from her nose, lips trembling as she made her sorrows known.

"Wha… What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Kaachan!" She sniffled. "Touchan!"

Her eyes held kind understanding. "I see, you miss them?"

Yumi nodded.

"Why don't we call them?"

Suguru curled a brow.

"Want Kaachan and Touchan."

"We'll call them right away but Yumi-chan should try to calm down. We don't want Kaachan and Touchan to worry, right? They'd be sad."

Something in Utahime's words made Ayumi quiet and settle down, her hiccups gradually lessening in intensity.

"Much better," she praised, rubbing the swollen cheeks. "Why don't we go call them now?"

"Okay."

"Want me to carry you?"

"Kaachan and Touchan," Yumi repeated and Utahime nodded.

"Yep."

What was the question and what was the answer, Suguru couldn't pretend to know but Utahime pretended and it was enough for Yumi, who didn't protest as she carried her, rubbing her hand on her back.

The little girl's arms came around Utahime's neck, her head dropping on her shoulders, the last vestige of her sadness washed away.

Utahime for her part began to hum, her voice soft and low. She ran her palm up and down the length of Yumi's back.

Then Geto noted with surprise. "She's asleep."

"Of course, I do have skills, you know."

"Babysitting gigs."

She took a minute to think it over. "More or less. We have a lot of children at the shrine, back home, I mean."

"What a nightmare."

"I like children," she retorted. "The younger ones especially. They love the bells and the Shinto dance."

"I guess they think it's a performance."

She shrugged. "They wouldn't be wrong. It's very elaborate for children but it makes their eyes go big with wonder, so really why not encourage that line of thinking if it helps?"

It was very much something Utahime would say; a little demure, unassuming. His senpai was a softhearted fool who'd not mind being surrounded by monkeys who would applaud her death in a crescendo, their misery every sorcerer's hanging rope.

He held back an ugly curl of his lip.

Utahime appeared outside as the sun began its descent on the horizon, her brows furrowed to form a solemn line. Mei Mei watched her with a laid-back tilt of her head, her fingers circling the ice cubes in her drink. The sun was getting ever so slightly hotter.

"Mei-senpai," she reproached, "you can't tell about Yumi-chan, not even a single thing."

"Oh?" Mei Mei smiled, almost smirked. This day had been informative indeed.

"Yes!"

Mei Mei hummed, content to play a baiting game.

"It wouldn't be worth it anyway."

"I don't know, many would pay plenty for information about Gojo Satoru's child."

"Mei-San," Utahime's voice was laced with disappointment, "you wouldn't. Think of your own brother, what if someone tried to use him?"

A child was very different from a sibling, not that Mei Mei had much experience, thank every deity her countryfolk prayed to.

"They wouldn't," was what she said. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm not, they're one and the same."

Mei Mei made a thoughtful hum at the base of her throat.

"Why don't you sit down and explain it to me?"

Utahime sighed. Sighed and pushed the chair so that she sat opposite Mei Mei, her lips formed close to a pout, too much like that girl with Gojo's eyes, and Utahime's silken hair.

Her smile was barely perceptible as her junior narrated bits and pieces, her brain working in overdrive. She wouldn't have told a thing anyway, but the show of trust was appreciated, Utahime's token of faith.

Mei Mei was quiet as she listened.

Tokyo, early March 2007

Today was a beautiful day, sunshine and clear skies, the perfect wind.

Gojo's credit card at their disposal.

"So, do we have any idea what we're buying or are we winging it?"

Panda was refusing to talk to them on account of disappointing playmates, Yaga was out of the prefecture and Mei Mei and Utahime had been dispatched for their mission, the school's staff on a weekend holiday. They were stranded in an unforgiving sea with not a clue in sight. "We're winging it."

"Okay." Satoru craned his neck to the side. "Let's go then."

Shoko blinked, the ash of her cigarette floating in the wind. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Suguru watched them both with barely restrained exasperation.

He adjusted his glasses, fluffing his hair. "No, what could I be forgetting?"

He ran through the school corridors at top speed, almost colliding with a wall.

"SHIT. YUMI-CHAN!"

Notes:

Yes, everyone has a soft spot for Utahime (It's her world, they're just living in it).

Chapter 9 Notes:

If I don't read JJK, then Gojo will be fine. Work smart, not hard!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kyoto, May 2019

"Ayumi," Gojo tried out the name on his tongue, liking how it sounded. "Ayumi."

Every expulsion from his mouth hit her ear, the breath caressing the outer shell. Though the weather was warm, Utahime snuggled back into his embrace, gripping his right hand in her left. His left palm was busy caressing her bump, the baby kicking against his touch.

"She's awake."

"Isn't she always?" Utahime asked with a snort. Her cheeks were flushed, and if she were to concentrate, she'd feel the phantom of tears.

If.

"Usually," he said, his head lying on her shoulder, his hair tickling her cheeks. Would his albinism pass down their daughter, she wondered, giving her tufts of snow. Utahime wouldn't particularly mind; his hair was ridiculously soft. "Usually, she wakes up when we're sleeping and sleeps when we're awake. A fan of contradicting for the sake of it."

She laughed even though it hurt. Satoru did the same.

Neither breathed a thought of their earlier tears and her desperate wails. As long as they ignored it, it remained insignificant.

Out of sight, out of mind, that old tune.

"Maybe Ayumi-chan likes to sleep to the sound of my voice."

"Maybe." His hand was moving with a mind of its own, unable to resist. Another kick against the walls of her womb made her wince and curse. "Ayumi."

"Bright beautiful dream," she asked, scrolling through the kanjis they'd liked best, "or love tie?"

"I liked the third one better."

The third. She licked her lips and wiped her cheek, there were no tears. The third was good.

"We'll do that one then."

星佑未
Star, help, direction

Tokyo, early March 2007

The first day of the month was as perfect as any for slacking on schoolwork, running to the city for respite and shopping.

Gojo held up a single shirt. "What do you think?"

"That's so weird," Shoko said, admiration in his voice. "You should buy it."

He held the cloth against Yumi's skin, gauging its suitability for her complexion before he shrugged and threw it in the shopping basket. "Looks promising."

Shoko hummed in agreement. "We should see if they have any cute dresses."

"Oh, dresses." He turned to Yumi. "Do you like dresses?"

"Yumi-chan pretty" she simply said.

Brevity was the soul of wit, after all.

Satoru gave her a thumbs up. "Dresses it is."

It all started with Panda's adamant refusal to let them borrow more clothes.

"No," was his clear words. "I won't do it."

"Why?"

Behind Shoko, Satoru was attempting to bribe him with sour candy in the shape of bamboo leaves and Suguru was returning every look of dislike with an exhausted one of his own; accumulating into a neat demeanour of elegant disdain.

"I don't like her."

"Uh, I see." Far be it for Shoko to judge, she disliked plenty of people herself.

Suguru tutted. "That's not very nice."

"Babies are dumb!"

"That's the pot calling the kettle black."

"What?"

Satoru gestured to Panda, happy to be proven correctly. "Case and point."

"Go away."

"We need clothes for Yumi-chan."

"Buy her some yourself. If you don't go away, I'm telling my dad."

They stood still as the door slammed shut, Suguru and Satoru's heads leaning towards the other, the form of camaraderie they'd had fostered and nurtured and that sometimes, inexplicably, felt like it was withering.

"Huh, I didn't think of that."

"Sometimes the Panda makes sense," Suguru said sagely.

Yumi-chan was bored.

It showed in the slump of her shoulders, the pout of her lips, and the quiver in her legs - their warning that she was about to dash around the store in search of entertainment.

Her father's daughter though and through.

Suguru patted her head to settle her but Yumi looked up at him, her puppy eyes on display. "We're buying clothes for you. Isn't it fun?"

Her pout grew more severe. Far from fun, as evident.

At least she wasn't crying as she had earlier in the subway.

They'd barely joined the throes of the bustling metropolis, making their way into the underground before Yumi froze, her eyes wide, startled by the number of people, it seemed, clinging to Satoru, unwilling to settle until he carried in her arms. Unusually shy and unwilling to interact, she'd simply observed the world around them from her perch on her father's shoulder.

"What? You can't tell me you've never been around people? Do I keep you locked up at home?" Satoru teased but he'd underestimated Yumi's need for comfort.

She'd only snuggled closer, sniffling.

Perhaps she was only friendly to Sorcerers and Windows, Geto had mused, she'd undoubtedly be cleverer than them all.

But that was then and this was now, a few hours later, and Yumi-chan was now all rapt attention and looking for entertainment. Suguru reached out to pull her by the hand, steering her away from an enthusiastic party of foreign shoppers, the mother and grandmother loudly discussing the fabric.

The child peered from behind his mother's legs, his hair bright orange, face sprinkled with freckles. Yumi-chan makes a low noise in her throat, curious. Another head appears from the other side, similar to the boy's with curls tumbling down her back.

His English is in dire need of intensive care but he understands enough to know they're whispering 'baby' between them with the excitement of little penguins.

The unpleasant feeling he'd expected to settle in his gut was nowhere to be found and he smiled, the sight sweet and the lack of the oily hate in his belly euphoric.

Perhaps it's just been a bad week.

Gojo's shoulders tingled where Yumi had settled her chin, her legs dangling on his elbows. Her stomach gave pitiful pangs against his back, but she was quiet after promises of food soon to come, content to let him steer her to their destination.

Behind him, Suguru and Shoko were each carrying a pair of shopping bags, Satoru herding the rest on his lower arm; father buys, father carries.

He didn't feel much of a father, truth be told, an over-glorified chauffeur slash ATM maybe.

Yumi-chan yawned against his ears and he felt something brush against his cheek. Her eyelashes, a glance back at her confirmed.

She squeezed his neck, her legs slowing down their periodic motion but her face ever so content as she joined his breathing space. He who had changed the world at birth and rebirth. The honoured one.

Nanami observed the heap of shopping bags with the sort of bafflement that made him age by ten years. Though in fairness, little was needed to accomplish that in Gojo's opinion, the younger boy was on a one-way trip to early retirement.

"How much money did you spend?"

"I don't know," he answered just to spite. "I paid with my credit card."

Predictably, Nanami's eyebrow twitched in mild irritation. Though his junior did not have the same qualms about money the way Suguru and Utahime had, he abhorred every display of Gojo's innate responsibility. The expressions he made always made Satoru snort.

"Gojo-san, have you considered you need to be a better role model to your child?"

Satoru pointed to Yumi-chan, his eyes wide. "She's two."

"That's irrelevant."

"It's very much not."

"Nanami, she has the memory of a goldfish. That's a fact."

On the floor, Yumi was passed between Haibara and Shoko who both were on a self-assigned mission to have her try every article of clothing. Now, she was sporting a frilly piece with their matching socks, blue but definitely duller than her eyes.

That, he thought smugly, was their signature.

"Hehe."

"Stop acting like a lunatic."

But the act was half of the fun. "All Jujutsu Sorcerers are insane."

"You just look stupid."

"Ouch."

"Touchan! Touchan!" Yumi ran to him, white hair ties in her hand.

He gingerly accepted her offerings, smiling, bemused with the stretchy cotton. "Thanks but I don't think I'd look good in them."

Shoko snorted. "You're so self-centred."

Haibara, however, took pity on him, throwing Satoru his comb from the bedside.

"She wants you to brush it."

"Suguru can do that," he said, steering Yumi-chan towards his friend. "Won't you, Suguru?"

He gave a lazy smile, sitting on the floor, clad in his wide-legged pants and oversized shirts, his hair half in a bun, half down his back. "I can do that."

Yumi frowned at Suguru, then looked back at Gojo. He remained steadfast for his part.

"Touchan."

"He can do it better than me. He did it before."

Yumi's frown did not relent. Children and their goldfish memory.

"Go on."

"Come on, Yumi-chan. I'll make you pigtails."

Satoru did not sigh in relief as Yumi was finally convinced but it was a near thing.

It would occur to Gojo two days later, that he was experiencing what was known as Burnout Syndrome. Very impressive sounding, realistically a harrowing hazard. He could not recall the high of wonder nor the blessed feeling of unlimited power at his fingertips, only the weariness in his bones, the dull thrum of tiredness.

Do you want to… kill them all?

He heard some high-pitched meowing close to his ears and sighed, looking up at the moonless sky. The meowing persisted despite his lack of response.

"Go away."

The ball of fur trotted to the side of his face, licking insistently.

"All the posturing in the world will change nothing. I have no treats."

Satoru had been a poor company of late; neglecting what had once been his favourite cat on campus. Miri was small and fluffy and it had made him dote on her.

Miri voiced her complaints. Loudly.

"Do you wanna meet Yumi?" He turned to the side, staring at her in the face. "She can play with you instead of me."

The kitten - well, she was bigger now, on the cusp of maturity, or was she? Satoru honestly did not know what the growth cycle of cats looked like - meowed again, incensed by his lethargic tone.

"Sorry, Miri."

He wasn't really. He wanted to keep lying on the ground as he was right now.

"Yo, Satoru," Shoko called out. "Get your ass in here."

He pretended the croaking frog was his answer and Shoko, the dutiful friend she was, picked up on the gesture.

"I'm giving Yumi-chan your food then."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Satoru groaned and stood up, stretching his limbs. "Don't give her my noodles."

"No promises."

Suddenly the world was roaring in his ears again, and he blinked up at the stars above, surprised by the rush of it. Huh, guess he was fine after all.

Satoru snuck on his tiptoes, making sure not to make a single noise. From the dazed look on her face, he doubted it'd mattered much if he didn't but he stuck by his goal either way.

"Boo!"

Utahime didn't scream, disappointing, he'd bet on it, but her body flung upward as if zapped with an electric pulse. Her mouth let out a noise that was too quiet to be a squeak.

"Gojo," he heard his name through gritted teeth. "What is wrong with you?"

"Just some fun between friends."

"We're not friends, we're senior and junior."

"Friends," he insisted just to make her squirm.

"Whatever," she said, turning on her heel to face away from him. "I am not in the mood."

She'd so rarely been in the last few weeks, her most relaxed when Yumi-chan had… when she'd been happy to snuggle Yumi to the last second.

"Why?"

Nothing.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"

"Shut up!"

"Why?"

"I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Concentrate?" He inclined his head to the side. "On what?"

She answered quickly. "Nothing."

Too quickly.

Her longer bangs brushed the corners of her eyes and he had half a mind to swipe them away, certain she'd try and hit him for it.

All she could do was try. He was on the verge of invincibility.

"Is it about your promotion?" He hazarded a guess and she flushed scarlet, her eyes flickering towards him in alarm.

Satoru let the wry smile settle on his lips. If Utahime thought she was subtle, then he might have to accuse her of delusion.

"Can't make it, yeah? Your technique is too pretty for that, Utahime."

She scowled. "My power helps sorcerers of every grade and even if it didn't, I'm a good sorcerer on my own."

Good enough maybe but Yaga, Suguru, Yuki, Mei Mei even Kusakabe were a sign of the evolving world, unprecedented strength and fostered talent. Utahime simply lacked the innate potential for it.

She must have sensed his thoughts, taking an affront though he'd voiced nothing.

"Whatever, I'm sure you wouldn't get it, Great Gojo Satoru."

"I don't. I can't for the life of me understand why you'd willingly put yourself on a path where you struggle so much. No one expects it of you."

Her eyes widened. Score.

Then, "you spoiledbrat."

"Don't get mad, Utahime. I'm just saying it like it is."

"You know nothing."

"I do," he reminded her. He'd seen it, the stars, the moon. Atoms at his fingertips, protons decaying into neutrons. "I know everything."

She shook her head, adamant. "Nothing."

He laughed. "If that's what you want to tell yourself to sleep at night…"

"I'll endure and obtain first grade, Gojo. you'll see."

"They'll never give you that chance."

She was their best bargaining chip, their golden goose that they'd dared not have laid her treasured eggs. If she did, they'd run the risk of losing her. Best to keep her muzzled, contained. Pretty bird.

"I'll prove it," Utahime said, spat out, swore. "I'll prove them all wrong."

Satoru was sure his eyes were narrowed in doubt, eyebrows drawn in pity. Utahime's gaze zeroed on it, her jaws clenching.

Her nose flared as her eyes met his head on.

"I'll prove you wrong too."

He let out another laugh. "Utahime."

Her fists balled, skin taut.

"Don't go out there just to try to get yourself killed."

Outside his window the crickets sang a symphony and trilled low under the moonlight, adding to the noise that played like a broken record in his head. At his side, Yumi-chan's legs were at his chest, spread perpendicular to the vertical axis of the bed.

At least she didn't kick. Gojo did not think he'd enjoy that.

He already wasn't going to sleep any time soon.

"What the hell?" He asked himself then decided to sit up. The blood rushed to his head and he shook it a little. Yumi-chan was roused by the movement.

She called for him in a sleepy, incomprehensible daze, her eyes dropping low.

"Go back to sleep."

Yumi only climbed into his lap like a particularly bedraggled sloth, collapsing in his arms so his shoulder was her pillow.

"If you wanna sleep so badly, lie down."

She shook her head

He stared at her and she stared at him, drowsy still, and that went on long enough that Satoru could only sigh. "You're very clingy, you know that."

She smiled as if he'd given her the highest compliment, wiggling in his arms to get comfortable. The brat. Gojo nudged the top of her head with his nose and she gave a bright smile.

His Infinity hummed but enveloped them like a perfect cocoon within its invisible fold, discerning without his input that Yumi-chan was perfectly safe, perfectly warm.

The benefit of his supernatural automation. Imperfect, unoptimized. He was on the cusp of the equations finally working together but he needed more time for it to make sense.

Gojo wasn't too worried. He'd grasp that goal soon enough.

He quietly stepped out of his room, hoping Suguru wouldn't wake up but the school was blissfully quiet. Everyone was too busy resting.

"If your back hurts in the morning, you can't complain," he told Yumi as he sat below a Maple tree. "You could have been sleeping on a comfortable bed and instead you're here with me…"

Which… wasn't too bad. Sure, Yumi made little sense to him and cried over the weirdest things and liked to share his slices and-

Still, not too bad. Almost tolerable, almost good.

She was heavy in his arms but it made the atmosphere feel real around him, so he could observe but not lose his mind to the eerie. It was so quiet, almost as quiet as it had been after Zenin Toji had left him dead.

Almost dead.

To think he owed him for his evolution. Life was very strange.

Something glittered in the sky.

"Look, Yumi-chan, there's a shooting star."

She blinked at the sound of his voice and found a sky barren of his promise. Satoru pouted, pinching her cheeks.

"I can't believe you missed it. It was great."

She murmured something, eyes closed.

"Okay, you're right. We should head inside."

Quietly they came and quietly they returned and Satoru was surprised to find himself yawning, his body eager for the slumber it had refused earlier. He held Yumi-chan in his arms so she was snuggled as she liked and thought of that one single arrow of light that had raced them.

"They're good luck, you know," he whispered, finally, finally falling asleep.

Notes:

Every time I take a step closer to the plot build-up, I giggle to myself like a maniac. Oh yeah, it's all coming together.

Edit: I actually had so much fun writing Gojo and Utahime's conversation. Easily my favourite scene in this chapter. What did you guys think of it?