The moment they entered Michizane Sugawara's shrine together, Utahime felt the surge of malevolent energy that attempted to break free like a fist to the stomach.
Several things happened after that in quick succession.
First, as Utahime caught the fleeting glimpse of pure agony etched across Gojo's face before he swiftly concealed it, a pang of realization pierced her heart. It was the first time she had to admit that she may have made a capital mistake last year. She had forced the Strongest's hand because she had arrogantly assumed to know what was best for the world, and that it, by extension, was also best for him. She had wanted Gojo to be invulnerable due to the blessing of his Ancestor, only that she had never considered how high the price was going to be that he would have to pay.
Second, as she felt the familiar, threatening presence of the ancient spirit again, it dawned on her that her part in his story was bigger than she had wanted to admit. Much bigger. Their destinies were entangled, the threads of their lives intricately connected. He called to her through the fabric of time, trying to ensnare her soul for reasons she did not yet understand. The key to disentangle herself also seemed to be in Michizane's past. Hence her offering to him earlier: Her notes about Mai's history assignment about the strained relationship between the Gojo and the Zen'in Clans since the Heian Era.
Third, Gojo, sounding rather desperate, said: "Let's make a binding vow. You and I."
Nobody with a sane mind would refuse to enter a binding vow with someone of his stature. Moreover, they would wait to hear and then accept any terms stated without hesitation too because he had so much more to offer than any other living Sorcerer. Perhaps her mind wasn't entirely sane at that moment? Or perhaps it had never been saner.
"You," Utahime stepped up to him and took his hand, her heart pounding in sudden agitation. "Are such an idiot. I accept."
Without losing a second, she began to assert the terms of their agreement before he could seize control of the situation. Was she a bad person for doing this? It was a daring move, one driven by cunning and audacity and a dose of desperation, leveraging his current vulnerability to ensure her own interests were safeguarded.
Her voice did not waver. She did not allow herself to feel fear or uncertainty. She spoke the terms for Gojo so that it was either take it or leave it with no further negotiations. It was a gamble, but what important things in life weren't? She knew he was prone to jealousy - use that. She knew he had issues trusting her - use that. She knew he had removed her parents and his grandma from the country in anticipation of them being too vulnerable - use that. She knew he meant to protect her against the Zen'ins - use that. She also knew what she wanted: To live - free and without fear.
"Do you accept?" Confident of victory, Utahime extended her second hand towards him, her first already held in his vice-like grip.
"Yes," he looked stunned even with his blindfold on. Oh, she had made the terms very favorable for him, of course she had. He had to be wondering why. Not enough to refuse though. Good.
The force of his cursed energy snaking up her arm like an electric current was so painful she almost cried out. Gritting her teeth and pushing against it with her own powers, they sealed the deal. A tingling sensation crept along her skin, a subtle yet undeniable sign that the vow was beginning to weave itself into their souls, tying the firmest knots the Jujutsu world knew.
She had mere seconds to do her worst.
After all, there was a third party in the room, one she feared and needed to control before he managed to do even more damage.
What both these men, one living and one long since dead, didn't know was that the Iori family's cursed technique extended to a well kept secret. Alongside the ritual dance to enhance cursed abilities and a captivating voice capable of bringing temporary peace and ensnaring attention, there was an additional, closely guarded power she called her own: the ability to speak a lie so convincing it became indistinguishable from the truth.
This technique was capable of reshaping reality itself through the manipulation of perception and belief. It was also possible to negate a binding vow with it, by belying it before it was complete, without the other party ever knowing.
The technique could be used exactly once in a lifetime. What it would do to her, Utahime didn't know. No time to be afraid though: It was now or never.
As she channeled the hidden power, she felt an immediate draining sensation, as if her very essence were being siphoned away. Emotions swirled within her, a potent mix of determination, trepidation, and a hint of exhilaration at the power she wielded in that moment. And there also was the realization that there was no turning back. It was possible that she had signed her own death warrant.
"Are you alright?" Gojo moved a hand to her back to steady her. It was hot, almost burning her skin through her clothing. "Is it my cursed energy, is it too much?"
She shook her head meekly, still forming the lie in her head as the tingling of the forming vow intensified, willing him not to interfere. The weight of the truth-lie pressed heavily upon her, making her limbs tremble with the effort to maintain her composure. The once-steady rhythm of her heartbeat faltered, becoming erratic and feeble. A cold sweat beaded upon her brow, her breaths shallow and labored.
Let's make a binding vow. You and I. She had his attention instantly. He was listening, as expected, a lurking presence pressing against the back of her mind.
I'm listening, woman. He did not take form like last time, he probably couldn't. But the smell of old parchment, ink, and incense intensified as Michizane's voice resonated inside her head. Utahime shuddered. She was mad to make a pact with him again.
I know what you want, she challenged. The same craving, it was still there. Satoru had not given his ancestor the freedom he desired. He had just swallowed him up and suppressed him. In what world had he thought that would truly work out?
Yes, you do. An acknowledgment of the past they shared.
I'll give it to you. A hesitation. He was no fool, this vengeful spirit. He probably smelled a trap. A baby, she couldn't falter, not even think about what would happen if she got it wrong. I promise you a baby this time, a vessel for your reincarnation.
The thought of an innocent life given for such a purpose was abhorrent. Michizane's presence grew stronger. Utahime could feel the idea of his fingers caressing her skin, fondling the straps of Gojo's lingerie..
… and in return?
You must do what I tell you and help me find what's hidden in the past. An unspecified condition, but it would do to start the bargaining.
For how long? He sounded amused. Do you mean to bind me forever?
State your terms. She needed his consent quickly. The binding vow with Satoru was almost complete, the knots were formed, she could feel they were tightening. She was already beginning to forget they existed.
I'll give you a year.
I need longer than that! Babies don't just drop from the sky!
My birthday next year then. Agree?
Agreed.
15 months and more, it would do. She could barely feel triumphant though, for all strength deserted her body when his old, violent cursed energy assaulted her. Her vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges until it enveloped her entirely. The world around her faded into nothingness as her consciousness slipped away, leaving her empty and depleted.
Two Binding Vows, but only one was real. One conditioned to be forgotten, the other to be secret. Two Binding Vows to ultimately be free.
Only… why did it hurt so much?
###
Utahime's eyes fluttered open, finding herself suspended in a haze of disorientation, a chuckling voice fading from her head. Where was she? How had she ended up here? Blinking her eyes against the remnants of what felt like a monstrous headache, she struggled to reconcile her surroundings with her fragmented memories. The last thing she remembered was the overwhelming drain of power and the disorienting descent into unconsciousness.
Soft light filtered through large windows. Outside, a serene Japanese garden captured the eyes. A pond, shimmering with a thin layer of ice. The bare limbs of trees swaying gently. Hardy evergreen trees standing steadfast, their dark foliage providing a stark contrast against the muted tones of the season. An old world of frozen beauty.
As her senses gradually sharpened, she became aware of the subtle scent of cedarwood mingling with the faint aroma of incense. She was lying in a large bed, crafted from rich, dark wood. The soft bedding was adorned with layers of plush quilts and silk pillows. The room itself exuded an atmosphere of timeless elegance, adorned with traditional Japanese furnishings and delicate silk screens. Old. Everything felt old.
Sudden panic rose within her chest. Old? Everything looked and felt like the Heian era! It was as if she had stepped into the pages of history, a world where the boundaries between past and present blurred. Utahime's heart raced with disbelief as she pushed herself into a sitting position with trembling arms. Had she been transported to another time? No, impossible!
Utahime's panicked confusion gave way to a sudden wave of nausea that twisted her stomach into painful knots. With a grimace of discomfort, she pressed a hand to her mouth, willing herself to suppress the rising tide of sickness. But despite her efforts, the urge to vomit grew stronger. Gasping for breath, Utahime swung her feet out of the bed, her vision swimming with dizziness as she stumbled toward the nearest sliding door.
With a heave, she flung open the door and fled into the cool embrace of the outdoor air, her body convulsing with violent retching. Wave after wave of nausea wracked her frame, leaving her trembling and weak as she emptied the contents of her stomach into a shrub with red berries.
As the last of the sickness subsided, Utahime sank to her knees, her breaths ragged and labored as she dug her fingers into the earth for support. The world around her swam in a blur of colors and shapes, each one blending into the next. Her head throbbed with each heartbeat, a relentless drumming that echoed through her skull. Her thoughts felt scattered, like pieces of a puzzle scattered to the winds, impossible to assemble into a coherent whole. She reached out blindly, grasping for something, anything, to anchor her to reality in the midst of the chaos that threatened to engulf her.
But the world remained elusive, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in a liminal space where past, present, and future converged in a tangled web of uncertainty. Utahime closed her eyes, willing the spinning sensation to subside.
It went wrong.
Her inner voice, bitter, resigned. But no, she wouldn't succumb to negative thinking.
You gambled high and lost even higher. Fool!
No, that wasn't true. These were probably just the aftereffects of the truth-lie. There was always a price for wielding special powers in the Jujutsu world.
Struggling to anchor herself in the here and now, Utahime focused on the sensation of the cool soil beneath her fingertips, grounding herself in the physicality of her surroundings. This is the earth. Feel it. With each breath, she drew in the crisp winter air, letting it fill her lungs and clear her thoughts. This is the air, feel it. Instantly, she became aware of her own physical discomfort. The thin fabric of her nightshift offered little protection against the biting cold, and she shivered violently as a chill wracked her frame.
She opened her eyes. The garden around her appeared cloaked in an eerie stillness. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for some unseen force to break the silence. Utahime's gaze swept over the landscape before her, willing herself to see. Tufts of frost clung to the edges of leaves and grasses, glistening in the soft light of dawn. The surface of the pond shimmered with the reflection of the pale winter sun. In the distance, a wooden bridge creaked softly in the cold wind.
But it was the sky above that captured Utahime's attention the most. A vast expanse of blue stretched out before her, its color so vivid and clear that it seemed to pierce straight through her soul. This blue...
…the exact color of Gojo Satoru's eyes.
A rush of memories flooded back to her—and with sudden clarity, Utahime realized where she was and why she was here.
This was the Gojo estate.
"Oh thank the gods," she sobbed, suddenly overcome by a strange mixture of grief and relief. The weight of uncertainty lifted from her shoulders, replaced by the knowledge that she was exactly where she needed to be. Yet, mingled with her relief was a strange sense of sadness, a recognition of something monumental shifting in the air, of changes yet to come.
You gambled high…
"Miss? Miss?" The voice ringing out behind her was heavy with concern. "Are you alright, miss?"
Utahime recognized one of the servant maids, her kimono discreetly adorned with the Gojo family crest.
"Do you want me to call your doctor?"
Doctor… What exactly had happened at the shrine? Utahime looked down at her shivering body. Someone had undressed her and - gasp! - had taken off the lingerie in the process. She was naked underneath the nightgown, apart from thickly padded underpants.
Another wave of feeling out of time and place crashed over her. "Where's Gojo… where's your master?"
"My master isn't here," the maid didn't look her in the eyes. "I will fetch someone."
Shit. As soon as the maid had disappeared back inside, Utahime felt exposed and vulnerable. This had once been Michizane's estate, was she feeling like this because of the aftereffects of their vow? On shaking legs, she managed to get back inside and close the door behind her. The temperature was icy, so she climbed back into the bed, seeking warmth underneath the covers.
Aunt Narumi entered the room after a short while.
"Miss Iori," her voice was quiet, her demeanor unreadable. "I am very glad to see you awake."
"What… happened?" Utahime's voice trembled as she looked into the older woman's tired eyes, searching for answers. Something was amiss, and the uncertainty gnawed at her fragile state of mind.
"I have called for your doctor," Aunt Narumi said, her tone grave.
Her doctor…?
"Is Shoko here?" Utahime's heart raced with mounting alarm. "Shoko Ieri?"
"Yes," Aunt Narumi nodded briskly. "She will explain everything."
Impossible. "But… she practices in Tokyo?"
"My nephew fetched her. You lost a lot of blood."
Blood…?
"What…?" A new wave of nausea gripped Utahime, her stomach churning with fear and confusion. She pressed a cold hand to her mouth, taking shallow, frightened breaths. She was unharmed, wasn't she?
"We think you had a miscarriage," Aunt Narumi made a few steps towards the bed, then stopped, her arms dangling awkwardly by her side.
"Impossible," Utahime gasped, her mind reeling with shock. She tried to piece together the timeline in her head, grasping for any semblance of logic. It couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. She vividly remembered her last period, counted the days in her head. Impossible. It was only ten days ago that she slept with Gojo again. This couldn't be happening. It simply couldn't.
"Calm yourself, Miss Iori," Aunt Narumi stepped up to her and took her hand to press it assuringly. "Don't be afraid. We will do everything in our power to help you get well quickly."