The black card in your hand lets you spend more money in one day than you spend in a year. And you don't feel sorry at all.
You even forbid Satoru from holding it just to feel that pang of satisfaction every time you get to swipe it.
"That will be 320.000 ¥, Miss."
"Jesus," you hear Satoru mutter behind you. You ignore him smugly, waving the card around like it's a toy.
As soon as you stepped out of the Gojo estate, a driver came around and dropped you off in the middle of Tokyo. Your phone didn't survive its fall through the portal in your pocket, so you bought two brand new smartphones for yourself and Satoru. Quickly deciding that you desperately needed new clothes, you dragged Satoru from one luxurious shop to the next. So far, you bought an oversize white cashmere jumper, a long black skirt that flows around your ankles, the most comfortable pair of boots you've ever worn, and a coat that costs more than a year's worth of rent. You throw in a handbag too, even though you don't usually wear them. They're too impractical to carry around, especially if you get into a fight, but when you saw the price tag you suddenly had a change of heart.
"Your hair is a problem," you tell him when you step out into the cold winter air.
"Huh, is it?" He reaches up and rubs a white strand between his fingers. His eyes cross when he observes his hair, and you look away when your cheeks flush. Cute.
There are several annoying thoughts occupying your mind right now. Like the fact that you notice how much you have to crane your neck to look at him. You usually find it troublesome, because he teases you and holds the fact you're shorter than him over your head all the time. He has always been this tall, so why would it make you feel any different now than before?
Your eyes roam over him. The white sweater he picked out for himself fits him well, and his black pants make his legs look longer than usual. You belatedly notice that your outfits match. Like a couple, that you're certainly not, because apparently, he marries a different woman in ten years time and has at least two children with her.
The realization makes you squash any complicated feelings like a bug. He can go marry this mysterious woman if he wants her that much. Why would you care? You're probably at some beach right now, sipping a cocktail and enjoying life without his obnoxious presence at your side. This oppressing weight in your chest must be overwhelming pity you feel for his future wife.
"Why are you staring at me like I did something to make you mad?" He asks and shoves his face closer to yours.
You narrow your eyes at him. "Shut up," you say, because you don't want to tell him the truth, and because he never does, anyway.
"You seemed awfully sad when he told you that you're not Satoshi's mother," he drawls and suddenly, his face looks terribly punchable.
"You must have mistaken that for earth-shattering relief," you snap and stomp away, your hands balling into fists at your side. He follows you and you try your hardest to ignore his delighted laughter.
He puts a hand on your head and ruffles your hair. "I'm just messing with you. I bet you're the best aunt ever."
You pay him no attention as you pass another store and pick out a baseball cap, putting in on Satoru's head and nodding approvingly. And because you're not supposed to be in Japan in the first place, you buy a hat and a pair of fake glasses in hopes of drawing as little attention as possible to yourself.
You put the frames on your nose and turn to him. "Does that look silly?"
His eyes widen briefly, and then he starts wildly coughing into the crook of his elbow.
You roll your eyes, your hand moving up to remove the pair of glasses. "You can tell me it looks awful like a normal person, you know."
His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. "No, they look good. Keep them on."
You look at your reflection and turn your head left and right to look at it from multiple angles. "If you say so," you shrug.
When you decide that you've spent enough money on clothes, you pick out the most expensive and lavish hotel you can find.
You march up to the front desk and ask for one room, earning a startled look from your companion.
"But please make sure there are two beds," you ask, and the receptionist nods politely. You watch Satoru deflate from your peripheral vision.
"And the names are?" she asks, and you freeze.
Fuck. You did not think that far. You can hardly say Gojo, or your own last name. That would destroy the whole purpose of being undercover.
Just as you are about to panic, Satoru speaks up. "The name's Ieiri."
"Oh? You're - married?" She looks doubtful.
You realize that you look nothing alike, not even a little bit, and that you're both eighteen and definitely too young to be married.
"Yes," Satoru chirps, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you closer. "When you know, you know right?" He presses a quick kiss to your temple.
You don't have to fake the deep red flush appearing on your face when you look up and see his most charming smile.
Your performance must have convinced her, because she refrains from questioning you any further, like why you needed two beds if you were so happily married, and hands you two room cards.
As soon as the elevator doors close in front of you, you tear his arm from your body and cross your arms.
"What?" he asks innocently when you open your mouth and struggle to find the appropriate words.
He did the right thing and saved you from embarrassment, but you still feel irked.
"Nothing," you simply reply and stare determinedly at the elevator door, ignoring the lingering warmth in your cheeks.
"I thought you were going to ask for two rooms."
You send him a sidelong glance. "It's stupid to split up, especially if we're both not at full strength."
The hotel room has more space than you'll ever need, and you quickly call dibs on the first shower. It feels like a lifetime ago since you were dropped into this timeline, and you want to wash away the reminder of the portal off you as fast as possible.
When you are both showered and redressed, you decide to go out again to eat dinner. Your stomach growls, and you realize that you haven't eaten all day.
The sun has set in the time you spent in the hotel, and the nightlife of Tokyo is starting to come alive.
You sit down in the next restaurant that you encounter, and swiftly order more food than necessary. You take a glance at the drinks menu and randomly order the next best thing. 'Mango Sunrise' sounds delectable, and Satoru orders the same after you show him the beverage on the card.
"There's something I need to know," you say after the waiter leaves. You rest your elbow on the table separating you and put your chin in your palm.
He hums. "You want to know what we talked about when you were gone."
Your eye twitches. How does he know you so well?
"Will you tell me?"
"Hm, maybe someday." He smiles cheekily and your heart makes a little jump.
"Why not?" you dig and lean forward.
"Let a man have some secrets. I promise it's nothing you won't find out anyway."
You mutter 'asshole' under your breath which makes him laugh.
"Alright, I can tell you one thing. I asked about the kids."
You raise one brow. "And? Are you a happy father of five?"
He lazily traces the rim of his glass with his index finger. "Apparently, there are two. Satoshi, and a baby daughter. He didn't tell me her name, though."
"So happy for you," you say dryly and take a large gulp from your drink because you don't know what else to do with your hands.
"Geez, why is it so bitter?" Your tongue curls at the taste. Raising the glass, you don't see anything out of the ordinary.
"I think it's the orange juice," he guesses after taking a sip as well.
The food arrives, and you spend the next few minutes eating in silence.
"We need to figure out what we're going to do next," you say and wipe your mouth with a napkin.
Satoru looks up, and the unfamiliar sight of his eyes still makes you shift in your seat.
"There's not much we can do for now. Unless my future self can get us more information, we need to lay low and wait."
"But there must be something we can do," you insist. Sitting in your hotel room and playing tourist felt wrong when your own world is potentially plunging into chaos as you speak.
His movements are sluggish when he takes another swig from his drink. "You need to relax. I'm sure I'm even more brilliant in ten years and able to figure it out in no time."
You repress the urge to roll your eyes and pick up your chopsticks again.
He keeps talking about how different the food tastes, and that you need to check out if his favorite store still exists, and you notice belatedly that he sounds odd.
Like his speech is slurred. Like...
Your eyes snap to his drink, and you hastily grab the menu again, quickly skimming the contents until you find the name of your beverage. The ingredients are listed in a tiny font.
Vodka. Your drinks contain vodka. And Satoru just downed an entire glass.
You bury your face in your hands and breathe deeply. Despite drinking as much as him, you are still clear-headed. There's been a warm buzz in your abdomen for a while now, but your stomach is feeling lots of weird things lately, so you dismissed it.
"I can't believe they didn't ask us for ID's," you moan and take the drinks, placing them as far away from Satoru as possible.
"ID for what?" Satoru tilts his head, and you watch the way his hair sweeps over his forehead.
"Nothing. We should leave," you tear your eyes away and get up. While you stand at the register to pay for the food, Satoru follows you like a lost puppy and rests his cheek on the top of your head. Your cheeks warm when the waiter looks at you oddly.
The walk back to the hotel takes twice as long as before. He gets distracted by every little thing and tries to drag you into multiple stores by grabbing your hand. He draws enough attention to himself that you beg the Gods to never let a drop of alcohol touch his tongue ever again.
Once you finally open the door to your hotel room, Satoru stumbles inside and falls into one of the beds face-first. You slip inside the bathroom to change into your pajamas, brush your teeth and braid your hair. When you emerge, you spot him in his bed wearing sleeping shorts and a shirt, appearing to be asleep already.
You fill up a glass of water and place it on his bedside table, and gently tuck the blanket up to his chin. Your hand lingers when your fingers lightly brush against his jaw.
He looks so innocent compared to the Gojo Satoru you met today. Unburdened. It makes you fear what kinds of things he's forced to do in the future - what's required of him.
Ever since your arrival in the future, you've been dancing around one topic - the elephant in the room. Neither Satoru nor you dared to ask about Suguru. You don't feel the need to know whether he is alive or dead; you don't even know what you'd hope for.
You turn off the lights and slip into your own bed, softly sighing at the feeling of satin bedsheets against your naked legs. The weight of the entire day falls off your shoulders as you snuggle into your pillow.
Five minutes pass before you hear the rustle of blankets, and then footsteps approaching you. You blearily open your eyes and see Satoru standing in front of you.
"Wha- "
He lifts your blanket and slips under, his legs brushing against yours. You don't move while he wraps his arms around your waist and burrows his face into the crook of your neck like you're his personal teddy bear.
You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but that only makes his arms tighten. His breaths ghost over your chest, and it makes you squirm and rub your thighs together.
Your face feels like it's on fire while you try to figure out how to get Satoru to move. His eyes are closed, and he looks awfully comfortable. His breathing evens out and you suspect that he's fallen asleep.
But – do you need to kick him out? He's drunk, and probably exhausted. He lost his Six Eyes, and he found out that he has a wife and children today. The thought twists something ugly inside of you as your hand finds his hair while the other brushes over his back. The strands feel soft around your fingers, and you possessively press his head closer to you.
For tonight, it's fine, you tell yourself. After all, you won't have him forever. Just one night – what's the harm in that?
You curl into him and breathe in his familiar scent, letting it calm your frantic heartbeat and lulling you into sleep.