30th December 2017

Ganbatte!

Utahime swung open the squeaky doors of the kitchen cupboard to reveal an array of cleaning utensils neatly organized within—it was time for osouji, the traditional New Year's cleaning. She aimed to purify her home, making it a welcoming space for Toshigami, the deity of the new year, who would bring blessings and good fortune. Or so one could hope.

In preparation for the great cleanse, Utahime donned a worn-out gray tracksuit from her school days. The sense of accomplishment at how well these old clothes still fit her was quite ridiculous but a woman was occasionally allowed such vanities, no? With efficiency in mind, she gathered her hair into a no-nonsense ponytail. The bracelet of bells tightly secured around her left wrist might have been a bit much, but she didn't mean to clean only: This was going to be a ritual.

She desperately needed to exorcise the lingering terror of her strangely vivid nightmare from a few nights ago. The feeling of cruel fingers crushing her windpipe had etched itself into her consciousness, its presence lingering on her skin like a ghost's persistent touch. Despite Gojo's assurances that there was no cursed energy in her apartment, she sensed the remnants of a malevolent aura, akin to a distant, off-tune screech just out of earshot.

Besides, ever since that night she felt watched. It was an eerie sensation, like the elusive caress of a chilling breeze on naked skin, creating an almost-but-not-quite shiver. Gojo's words about calibrating his Six Eyes to always know her location echoed in her mind, but this didn't feel like him. Perhaps it was just her fears acting up, perhaps it was related to that nightmare—in any case, it really creeped her out and she wanted it gone.

She had taken the day off at short notice when she had realized Gakuganji wouldn't be at school. Apparently, he had urgent business in Tokyo. Again. All these meetings at headquarters didn't bode well, but Utahime was determined not to ponder on things that did not concern her.

And no, Gojo and his well-being did not concern her. At least she kept telling herself that with the force of a new year's resolution that carried the weight of a binding vow. What Utahime needed was a ritual of purification, a cleansing of both her living space and her spirit. And a cleansing of her impure thoughts.

"Can I please ask you to stay away from him?"

The phone call with her parents yesterday was the last they'd have for a while. Her mother and father had since left on a cruise to Jeju Island—a first prize in a competition her mother had won a few months ago. Utahime had urged them to stick to their plans despite their reluctance to leave her alone after "The Great Calamity". There was no use in them staying. It wasn't just about enjoying a well-deserved vacation; it was a kind of rebellion against the negativity hanging over everyone. They couldn't put life on hold and they shouldn't let the chaos dictate everything.

"Fortune Comes to the Laughing Gate", a proverb said. Face the world laughing and you will be blessed.

Utahime didn't need to ask who her mother was referring to. Her parents had never asked any questions after it had become clear that she and Gojo were no longer seeing each other though Utahime had always assumed that they were relieved it had ended. Really: A low-level Iori-nobody and the head of the Gojo Clan… it had no future.

"Yes, mother," Utahime said resolutely. "I will stay away from him."

"Will you be alright?" Of course, her mother sensed her turmoil even over the phone.

"Don't worry, Mother. I'm fine."

It was a lie and both of them knew it. Utahime wished nothing more than to spend New Year's Eve at her parents' house, sprawled in front of the TV, watching a silly singing competition and eating snacks until her belly hurt.

"Will you be alone?"

"No, no, I'm going to a party. I will have a lot of fun."

That was decided on the spot to dispel her mother's worries. It was true that she had an invitation but had not felt any inclination to accept before now. Kusakabe's new girlfriend—a sorcerer though neither strong nor stupid enough to be working as one—who lived in Kyoto, wanted to meet all his colleagues and they were organizing a get-together with soba noodles and loads of alcohol.

Just watch me, I'll be laughing too before the year is over!

Before commencing the cleanse, Utahime took a moment of stillness, grounding herself. Then, she pulled out the broom with its slightly worn bristles from countless sweeps across the floors. Next, she retrieved the dustpan, its edges well-worn from years of collecting the remnants of everyday life. Utahime grasped a set of cleaning cloths in pleasant pastel colors, a mop, and last a bucket, stationed patiently in the corner, ready to be filled with blessed water from Sanjūsangen-dō and its 1'001 statues of Kannon, the goddess of compassion in her thousand-armed incarnation.

The items symbolizing purity were ready on the kitchen counter: a bundle of sacred herbs, a small container of blessed salt, and a bundle of talismans from her favorite Shinto shrine, collected this morning. Utahime lit a bundle of ritualistic incense, allowing the fragrant smoke to weave through the air. Then she began the purification ceremony by softly chanting ancient Shinto prayers. As she moved from room to room, the rhythmic cadence of her song and the sound from her bells mingled with the scent of the incense, creating a palpable shift in energy.

The kitchen got the most vigorous scrubbing. Each swipe of the cloth became an attempt to erase the intrusive thoughts about sex on this counter. Sex she needed to forget if she wanted to live a normal, quiet life. The tremor in his voice when he had said: Look at me. Utahime, look at me! And Sorry, I won't last long. You feel too good.

Her pussy clenched hungrily at the memory. Oh, great. This will take a while.

This morning at the shops, she had debated with herself whether to buy or not to buy condoms. Doing it felt too much like defeat—no, she wasn't ready to accept that she thought about sex with him much too frequently—but not doing it was careless because frankly, if he came over again, she would hardly be able to resist him. The other option was a visit to the gynecologist, but it was hard to get an appointment at short notice. Theoretically, she could also ask Shoko for the pill. But while her friend was discreet enough, Utahime felt too embarrassed to ask her. Even without having to explain herself, Shoko would know. And Utahime didn't want anyone to know.

Know what exactly? Adults slept together all the time, it was completely normal. And twice wasn't that much. Even after a break-up. Argh! This is not working!

As she moved to the living room, the small dining table adjacent to the kitchen was another treacherous place that held too many memories. Emotional memories. The couch, once a refuge, held the imprint of silent worries and nights spent together. With trembling hands, Utahime dusted and cleaned, chanted and danced, desperate to dispel the tension that knotted her stomach.

Maybe it was time she acknowledged that someone like Gojo Satoru could not be simply exorcised from one's life. But what to do with him? Let him in? Let him take and take until he grew tired of her? Give and give until she was empty and broken? She had no defenses against him anymore.

In the bedroom, where dreams were supposed to find solace but nightmares were far more present, Utahime wrestled with the uncertainty that clung to her thoughts. Why could she not simply decide what was best for her and stick to it? It's because I'm weak, I've always been weak and it will never change. A small, ornate incense burner emitted fragrant smoke, its sweet aroma enveloping the room. She had carefully selected herbs and woods known for their cleansing properties, allowing the sacred smoke to waft through each corner, symbolizing the dispelling of lingering negativity.

Time for a last prayer. Seven gods of fortune, kami of strength and fortitude, I stand before you seeking the power to face the challenges that lie ahead. Grant me the resilience to overcome obstacles, the wisdom to make sound decisions, and the courage to navigate the uncertainties of life. May your divine energy fill me with the unwavering strength needed to fulfill my duties and protect those entrusted to my care. I offer my gratitude for your guidance and ask for your continued blessings. In the sacred name of the kami, I humbly seek the strength to walk the path before me.

Coming to the end of the ritual, Utahime sprinkled salt at the thresholds, a symbolic barrier against malevolent forces, and waved the sacred herbs in precise patterns, to harmonize the spiritual energies. Finally, she reached for the talismans. With deliberate intent, she began the ritual placement.

The entrance, where energies converged, became the first sanctum. The charm Utahime secured there was a guardian against unwelcome forces seeking entry. She also placed a small mirror or a crystal near the entrance to attract positive energy and repel negativity. In the bedroom, she chose the bedpost for another charm. Each knot tied carried the weight of whispered prayers for undisturbed slumber and dreams untouched by malevolence. She also repositioned her bed to have a clear view of the bedroom door, promoting a sense of security. Windows, potential portals for unwanted energies, were adorned with charms next, protective barriers against anything unwanted.

As the ritual concluded, the apartment seemed to exhale, releasing residual tension that had clung to the air. Utahime stood amidst the placements, a sense of calm settling around her like a benevolent embrace.

All done. It felt good.

Until she checked her phone.

Gakuganji had called her thirteen times at ever shorter intervals. And he had left her thirteen increasingly enraged voice messages.

Oh shit.

###

Utahime arrived in Tokyo four hours later, sweating profusely in her winter coat, and with a tension headache persistently pulsating behind her eyes. Hailing a taxi in front of the station, she found herself attempting to regulate her breathing for what felt like the hundredth time—to no avail. Arriving late to a summons from Jujutsu Headquarters was not going to be looked at kindly. And no, "I was busy cleaning" was not going to be an excuse that would buy her goodwill.

The city's frenetic energy this close to year's end mirrored her anxieties as the taxi weaved through the bustling streets toward her destination, the Yasukuni Jinja shrine in Chiyoda. It was the current entrance to the Jujutsu Headquarters, the very air surrounding it carrying an aura of solemnity, heightened by the protective barrier woven by Master Tengen. It prevented anyone from intruding other than members of the Big Three and those directly invited.

The short taxi ride offered little respite for Utahime to gather her wits. The imminent encounter with the Higher Ups tightened the knots in her stomach tighter and tighter. Summoning people out of the blue followed a familiar pattern of intimidation used by those in power. The uncertainty of the purpose behind the call was as well. It worked. She was quite terrified.

Shoko had not answered her phone—in fact, she had been absent for days. It was likely she didn't know anything about this; Utahime was certain her friend would have given her advance warning. This summons had to be about Geto Suguru. And if it was about Geto, then it was certain to be about Gojo too. And if it was about Gojo and they had summoned her… their eyes are on me.

As she stepped across the threshold, long and shadowed corridors seemed to stretch on forever into the depths of the building. The scarce light filtering through traditional shoji-screens to the left and right played tricks on the eyes, creating a demonic shadow dance at the edge of her vision. The silence within the ancient walls amplified the echo of each footstep, however lightly she tread. An unsettling scent hung in the air, putting her even further on edge. The aroma, a peculiar blend of ancient wood, faint incense, and an undertone of something indefinable, was strangely familiar though she had never been here before.

If you don't hear from me ever again, I was executed for crimes not my own. Nobody but the Higher-Ups knew she was here. That's how people disappeared without a trace, wasn't it. When she checked with trembling hands, her phone had no reception. It was too late to message someone.

As Utahime navigated through the endless corridors with her heart in her throat, the scarce light gradually became stronger, revealing a big illuminated space up ahead—the waiting area! She had been told to stay there until the Higher-Ups called her in. Relieved to have reached this place, she quickened her steps—and realized too late that the area was already occupied.

Utahime's heart almost stopped when she recognized who it was: The Hei, the Zen'in clan's Elite Unit. The tall young man with the distinctive blonde-green hair who was staring in her direction was Naoya Zen'in, Maki and Mei's horrible cousin. There was a flicker of recognition in his sharp gaze when she stepped into the light. He bared his teeth.

Not good.

Utahime's unease multiplied as Naoya stepped into her path, his kimono swishing softly around his legs. "Well, well, well," he drawled, an arrogant grin spreading on his face. "If it isn't the deflowered shrine maiden who teaches useless crap."

Despite her rising fear, Utahime maintained her composure. She bowed politely and a little deeper than she had to, a practiced response from years of dealing with bullies. "Good day, Zen'in-san," she replied evenly. Never give the bully a reason to bully you, she reminded herself silently, keeping her gaze steady at his sandals. And whatever you do, never let them see how afraid you are.

"You like to bend over, do you?" He snickered. "We must be a match made in heaven, I normally have to force women to offer me their asses like this."

Naoya's crude and demeaning insinuation sent a shiver down Utahime's spine. She remembered that Mei had once said that her cousin was known for recognizing women by their behinds rather than their faces. He was a despicable, spoiled, very powerful brat. As she straightened, she found his golden-brown eyes leering at her shamelessly.

"What is it that he wants from you? Are you that good in bed?" He cocked his head as he took her measure once more. His relatives moved closer, snickering darkly. She felt another strong wave of discomfort and a woman's age-old instinct to kick and run.

Naoya had been there in the courtyard on March 26th, when she and Aunt Narumi had rushed to the Zen'in compound to prevent Gojo from doing something bad. Aunt Narumi had convincingly told Naobito Zen'in that Gojo was out of control because he was drunk, which the old man, the only one drunk at the time, had seemingly accepted as a fact. Sadly, Naoya wasn't dumb in the least—just violent, narcissist and without any morals. Not a good combination if you were a woman alone with him and his equally ruthless relatives. Would anyone come to her help if she screamed?

The expression on his face changed and she knew with a sinking feeling that he had guessed her thoughts.

"I'm Naoya Zen'in," he grinned smugly, taking several quick steps that brought him into her personal space. "I take what I want where I want and nobody can stop me."

Nobody? Are you sure?

"Do not touch me," Utahime said with authority yet carefully devoid of power. He'd kill her on the spot for using cursed energy against him.

Naoya's eyes narrowed dangerously. The piercings in his left ears caught the light as he dropped his head a fraction to stare directly into her eyes. "You really think he's stupid enough to start a war over you?"

Her apprehension sky-rocketed. Why were the Hei here? The Zen'ins… they are making a move against the Gojo Clan!

"I don't know what you mean," she lied to his face.

Does Gojo appear that weakened to them? This is a disaster! A war between two of the big families will upend the world as we know it.

"Oh, but Iori whores have been bed warmers for Gojo men since the old days," Naoya spat on the floor next to her feet. "Just ask your mother."

Her hand moved instinctively and so fast he didn't have time to dodge. Or maybe he did not want to dodge. The resounding slap echoed through the underground ante-chamber, as sharp and unmistakable as a gunshot. A reddened mark appeared on Naoya's cheek, and his eyes flickered with a dangerous rage.

Goodbye, world, Utahime thought, noticing with an emotion akin to amusement how calm she felt in the face of death. Sorry I didn't accomplish more.

"Miss Iori?" A black-clad orderly who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere cleared his throat. He was looking anywhere but at them. "The Council is now ready for you."

"When I'm through with you," Naoya Zen'in growled after her as she stepped carefully around him. "You will wish you were dead."

"A very happy new year to you too, Zen'in-san," Utahime retorted with steely resolve, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Fuck you and your fucking power plays! She screamed in her head. How dare you treat the rest of us like pawns, how dare you!

###

Utahime's boiling rage acted as a shield against the barrage of rude and probing questions that she had to endure in the candle-lit room to which she was brought next. The concealed presence of the Higher-Ups behind their protective screens struck her as surreal. She found herself fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Or maybe she was just that close to the edge of a nervous breakdown? She knew the identities of the Higher-Ups, she recognized the familiar figures—Gakuganji, Naobito, Noritoshi Kamo's father, an Inumaki, a descendant of the Fujiwaras, and one from the Abe family. Only the Gojo family had no representative, well… Gojo's outspoken opinions about the ruling class were no secret—but by the gods, she now finally understood him.

"You went to school with Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru. What was your relationship with them?"

"Explain the nature of your relationship with Geto. How closely were you associating?"

"What do you know about Gojo's whereabouts in the past few days? Are you hiding any information?"

"Did you have knowledge of Geto's plans, and were you complicit in any way?"

"How do you justify your allegiance to Gojo, considering the recent events involving him and Geto?"

"Are you aware of any clandestine activities involving Gojo that could compromise Jujutsu Society's integrity?"

"Do you have any personal or emotional attachments to Geto or Gojo that could cloud your judgment?"

"Were you involved in any incidents that may have contributed to the recent destruction at Jujutsu High?"

"What assurances can you provide regarding your loyalty to the Council and the principles of the Jujutsu Regulations?"

She tried to answer quickly and truthfully with "no", "I have no allegiance nor attachment to either Geto nor Gojo", and "I'm a law abiding citizen", etc. The more the barrage continued, the more she stumbled over her choice of words though. They were asking the same questions in variations, over and over. They did not believe her. These men's minds were made up and she could say whatever she wanted, they had already judged her.

"Why did Gojo tell you where Geto's body supposedly was?"

"I suppose it was on a whim," she answered, realizing this was a new one and that she had hesitated. The "supposedly" did not escape her notice. They have not found the body?

"He came to you that night."

"Yes, he did."

He did, didn't he. They know and it looks quite incriminating.

"Were you surprised?"

"Yes, I was very surprised."

I wasn't surprised. I was hoping to see him. I wanted to comfort him. Take this, you old farts—I am emotionally corrupted. Gojo didn't do anything wrong, you are the problem, only you! Leave him alone, without him, you'd all be toast!

"Why did he seek you out?"

"I don't know. I suppose he considers me a friend."

No, not a friend. I betrayed him, but Gojo Satoru thinks that sex with me will banish his demons. Hahaha, funny, isn't it?

"Is Gojo Satoru in love with you?"

"No!"

"Did you lie about the location of Geto's body to mislead us?"

"Did you see Geto Suguru since his 'supposed' death?"

"You know that lying to us is a grave offense?"

After what felt like hours of torture, Utahime was instructed to wait as the Higher-Ups departed to "deliberate." Deliberate what? I haven't done anything wrong! Forced to kneel on the floor during their absence, the pain in her legs became a relentless agony, yet she dared not move, maintaining the expected posture of submission.

When they returned to deliver the verdict, Utahime's shock and disbelief were palpable. She struggled to keep her eyes lowered as he read out the directive that felt outrageous, unheard of, and ludicrous.

"Can you repeat that?" She barely managed to keep her eyes lowered to the floor as expected of her.

"You will make yourself available to Gojo Satoru at all times," Gakuganji declared more loudly. "Whatever he wants, you give it to him. And you report to us on a weekly basis about everything he tells you, everything he does, and everyone he meets."

Utahime's heart raced, her anger burning hotter with each word. The audacity of the decree was suffocating. The shadowy figures behind screens had assumed, decided, and now she was left to abide by their imposed terms.

Make herself available to Gojo at all times? What did that even mean! This is a misunderstanding! She wanted to scream. I am not what you think I am to him!

The Elder's voice dripped with authority. "This is not a request. It is an order."

Utahime clenched her fists, her pride and principles warring against the undeniable fact that she was going to be banished from Jujutsu Society if she defied the Higher Ups. Or worse. They would go after her family. They would destroy everything dear to her.

"I shall obey," she pressed out, harboring a silent wish for the Higher-Ups to endure a painful and drawn-out death, a private protest against the coercion that had stripped her of agency and autonomy.

She was ushered out through some unglamorous exit that stank of old frying oil and fish. And so shattered her hopes for scratching Naoya's hateful visage on her way out as the last thing she ever did.

What to do, what to do?

Nanami was waiting outside, leaning against his flashy green car, reading something on his phone, the screen illuminating his familiar face in the darkness. Utahime's tears started flowing before she could burrow her face into his broad chest. His strong arms enclosed her.

Laughing gate? Very funny. She was out of fortune completely.