"What happened?"
"You fainted," Shoko removed her fingers from Utahime's pulse and looked up, the fine lines around her eyes more pronounced than usual. "You scared the shit out of him. And out of me. He made it sound like you were dying."
Shoko was in her pajamas, wearing a gown that looked like it belonged to a dignified old lady, with hair that was in need of a good brushing. It was early in the morning. January 2nd? Panic began to bubble within Utahime because she wasn't sure, prompting her to steal a quick glance at her phone to confirm the date. She needed to get a grip. Fast.
"No, I mean… what happened," Utahime pressed, her voice a little shaky. The sight of Shoko in such a disheveled state raised alarm bells in her mind. If Shoko had been roused from her bed in such a manner, it meant that something serious had occurred. Utahime couldn't shake the feeling that she had unwittingly caused a significant problem, one that she had yet to fully comprehend.
"Ah," Shoko sighed, her expression somber. "I'm very sorry, Uta. It seems you were pregnant. You no longer are. You had a miscarriage."
"Yes, but that can't be," Utahime insisted, straightening her back and adjusting the fabric of her borrowed nightgown. Her dangling feet looked small, ridiculously white, and far away. She refused to accept what made no sense to her. She had only just made a promise to Michizane regarding a future child, and now she was being told she had lost one? It didn't add up. Glancing at her phone again, she confirmed the date once more: 2nd January 2018. She had fainted around mid-day. She had only lost around 20 hours. Then why did it feel like months, years had passed in her absence?
"You don't need to tell me anything," Shoko reassured her, pressing Utahime's hand. "It's okay."
"There is nothing to tell!" Utahime exclaimed, pulling her hand back in frustration. "I haven't had any sex with anybody for months! I mean… well…" She felt herself blush. Good job, really. She already doesn't believe you. "Yeah, so… Gojo came by that night and…"
"It's okay," Shoko repeated but Utahime saw that she wasn't. 'That night' wasn't just any night.
"No," now it was Utahime's turn to take her friend's hand. "No, nothing is okay. He came to see me after he… he…"
"...killed Geto," Shoko swallowed heavily. "No problem, you can say it. I know what happened and not saying it doesn't change a thing. Geto is dead. He won't come back."
"I'm so sorry," Utahime leaned forward to sling her arms around her friend's shoulders. She wished they could have talked before. She was the older sister in this relationship, she wished she had been stronger, able to support Shoko in her heartbreak instead of being consumed by her own selfish issues.
"No need to be sorry," Shoko whispered against her shoulder. "It's nobody's fault but Suguru's. What a stupid idiot. He threw his life away the moment he began to kill innocent people. I was there, looking at their corpses. I have no regrets and hold no grudge against any of the living."
Is it that easy? Utahime asked herself. Maybe it was. The actions of a murderer could not be excused by circumstances. No matter how tragic his life might have been, it didn't justify the lives he took or the choices he made.
"It's okay to grieve for him though," Utahime whispered back, hugging her friend more forcefully.
She could only imagine what Shoko felt. Utahime knew that she had loved Geto, in her own, quiet way. The thing between them was a thing that could not be, for a plethora of reasons that Shoko had once explained to Utahime when they had both been deplorably drunk. The one thing Utahime remembered was how torn Shoko had been between her budding feelings and the knowledge that Gojo would be lost without Geto. Shoko, being the friend Shoko was, had understood that any change in the trio's dynamic would have calamitous consequences. And so she hadn't acted. With calamitous consequences.
Shoko nodded against her shoulder, her breath hitching slightly. "You know that even speaking about him has been made illegal? They are doing everything they can to erase him from the public consciousness."
"Then let's defy them by remembering who he was every day," Utahime said heatedly, pushing away from Shoko to look into her wet, tired eyes. "The good and the bad."
"Thank you," Shoko straightened and briefly turned her head away to wipe her eyes. "But enough of this, I'm here for you and they're paying me a shitload of money for it. I'm glad to ascertain that bodily, you will be fine in no time."
Insinuating that her mind might need longer to recover?
"Shoko," Utahime felt anger rising within her. "You have to believe me. I couldn't have been pregnant!"
"I'm no ob-gyn, but I tested your blood for pregnancy hormones. You were pregnant."
No. She didn't want to believe it. No way. "I had my last period about a week before Christmas!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course I am sure! I have very regular periods! And besides, it has been less than ten days since I slept with Gojo!"
"Did you use protection?"
Utahime shook her head, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Talking about sex with Gojo was incredibly awkward, not least because her brain was instantly gifting her with flashbacks.
Shoko shrugged. "I'm sorry, it does sound unlikely but I can't tell you it's impossible, it isn't. In some women, ovulation occurs only six days after the first day of the period."
Imagine having a regular period for most of your life to then be told that the one time it mattered, you ovulated after only six days? Was this some kind of cosmic joke? She shook her head again.
"Was there a lot of blood?"
Shoko nodded gravely.
"Would there be after only a week of a very unlikely pregnancy?"
Shoko sighed. "It is possible, though unlikely, that's all I can tell you. I'm really sorry this is happening to you. I understand that it's hard to accept, assuming that you actually wanted a child with him."
"Shoko!" Utahime squealed, recoiling.
"I'm sorry, that was unprofessional," Shoko murmured and got up to look out into the wintry garden. "I'm just a little confused about all this. What are you even doing here?" She made a sweeping gesture with her hands. Here: The Gojo estate. Here: this opulent guest room. Here: embroiled in Big Three clan business even though she had vowed to never ever get close again.
"It's complicated," Utahime murmured, for lack of anything better to say.
"Well, that's to be expected, especially when it involves Gojo," Shoko remarked with a wry smile. "But the family shrine? On the first of January? Really?! Uta, did you two get married in secret or something?"
"No!" Utahime jumped to her feet hastily before realizing that her friend had spoken in jest.
"You need to rest," Shoko moved around the bed briskly to gently push Utahime back down. "Just tell me that you're not being coerced? I mean… to do anything you don't want to do?"
"Of course not," Utahime reassured her, sinking back against the pillows.
Coerced? No. She was here because of the choices she had made. But she couldn't tell anybody about the fake Binding Vow with Michizane, it had to remain a secret, as per the conditions imposed upon it. Clearly though, something had gone awry. Had Michizane realized she was lying to him? Was that even possible? Had he punished her? Nothing made any sense—Michizane had been so kind to her in her last dream.
"You will stay here? With Gojo and his family?"
Utahime nodded. Yes. It was where she belonged. Gojo would protect her. Ah, how she wished he was here…
"Are you sure?" Shoko looked down at her with concern. "It might not be my place, Uta, but I do remember how he made you feel last year."
Vaguely, Utahime remembered severing the newly formed bond between Gojo and herself back then because she had not trusted him to do the right thing. That had been a mistake. He was much more mature than he let on. She could not make such a mistake again. She needn't worry because they had promised each other…
As she tried to recall the details of a promise she was certain they had made, she encountered a brain fog instead of a memory, which could only mean one thing: She had dreamed about this. Right, her dreams. Something was up with her dreams.
"You should sleep now," Shoko said, moving to pull the blinds shut resolutely. "And I will go see if anybody has any cigarettes for me."
A dream. She needed to understand her dream. That dream. She was Michizane's bride. He was reciting poetry near a pond. Something evil arrived and… What was she missing?
"Shoko," Utahime lifted her head. "Please do me a favor."
"Sure," Shoko nodded. "Anything."
"Will you examine… well, you know…" Utahime gestured vaguely towards her abdomen. "What I lose?"
"You want me to inspect the fetal tissue?" Shoko's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? What are you suspecting?"
Something really foul is lurking in the realm between dreams and reality. Beware. Am I losing my mind?
"I don't know how to put it, but I think… maybe…"
A new wave of nausea hit her like a truck. Memories of something brushing over her face, ice-cold like the fingers of a ghost but much more substantial, moving over her body, probing her, entering her, violating her…
"Where's Gojo? I need to see him right now!" Utahime pressed out as she ran to the toilet on unsteady legs to vomit nothing but bile and water.
###
"Where the fuck are you? Uta's awake and she is asking for you."
Frustration boiled within Gojo, tempting him to unleash a string of insults at his phone before tossing it away with force. He didn't need another reminder of where he should and wanted to be!
"Something urgent came up," he texted Shoko back, his thumb flying over the screen. "Tell her I'll be there as fast as I can."
He meant it, but he also knew that the current situation was rather precarious. He wasn't sure when he could safely return and who might be chasing him when he did, though he was angry enough to pulverize them all without mercy.
From his lofty position atop the roof, Gojo's gaze swept over the sprawling compound of the Zen'in Clan below. The feeble winter sun hung low in the sky, its weak rays struggling to penetrate the thick blanket of gray clouds that stretched across the horizon. A biting wind swept through the air, carrying with it the promise of snow. Nestled amidst a backdrop of towering trees and protective rock formations, the pompous architecture and pedantically manicured gardens spoke of wealth, power and opulence, but also of arrogance, pride, and cruelty. This estate? Slaves had built it, non-sorcerers who had been kept in inhumane conditions and worked to the death. The infamous ancestor of the Zen'in's lineage, Taira no Masakado, was nothing more than a tyrant, a ruthless warlord who had inflicted untold suffering upon the people of Japan. Taira represented everything that was wrong with the Zen'in Clan—an insatiable thirst for power, a callous disregard for human life, and a willingness to trample over anyone who dared to stand in their way.
With a snarl of disgust, Gojo rose to his full height. So they wanted a war? They would have a war. He would start and end it right here on their doorstep.
A mocking voice pierced the air, freezing him in his tracks. "Awww. You've come to play, Satoru-kun?"
Naoya appeared below in the courtyard, an ugly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His words dripped with sarcasm, each taunting syllable a calculated affront meant to enrage Gojo.
It worked.
Anger burned hotly within Gojo already, born of years of resentment and animosity, fueled by what he had been forced to do to his very best friend on 24th December, fueled by a growing sense of powerlessness in the face of fate. It pulsed through his veins like fire and every word, every action from Naoya only stoked the flames, pushing him closer to the edge of violence.
Behind Naoya, the Zen'in elite guards assembled with chilling precision. A flicker of caution ignited in the depths of Gojo's rage at the sight: He couldn't afford to underestimate these people. Despite being the Strongest, he wasn't in the right state of mind to take on several highly trained sorcerers who had obviously been waiting for him. Everything felt like it was unraveling at the seams. The temptation to let loose was getting overwhelming. Michizane hovered dangerously close to the surface. The day before in the shrine, Gojo had called him forth and he was still stirring within his soul like a poisonous snake eager to strike.
"Where are they?" Gojo's voice was deceptively calm.
"Who?" Naoya feigned ignorance, his demeanor oozing with a smugness that set Gojo's nerves on edge.
They have her, Nanami's voice, cracking from agitation. A phone call in the early morning hours, the urgency unmistakable. Chia sent me a coded message. I fear the Zen'ins got to her and the kids. I am deeply sorry.
Chia, his cousin's widow. It had been just last year when Utahime and Nanami had conspired against him to remove Chia and her two children from his grasp. It still stung that they believed he was capable of harming innocents, no matter how murderous they felt towards him. A boy, poisoned by his father's machinations to believe he was the rightful heir, and a girl with silver-white hair and blazing blue eyes, crafted by ancient forces to be Gojo's substitute.
The Six Eyes were an ultra rare trait. Throughout the centuries, the absence of this coveted ability had left the Gojo family vulnerable to persecution from the other two ruling clans. Once it miraculously manifested, their rise to the top was a given. And—as Gojo had only found out last year—there always was a spare, an empty, but capable vessel. A backup, so to speak, even if nobody had been able to tell him how it worked exactly. If number One died too soon, it seemed, the family at least got a second chance to do their best and their worst in that same lifetime.
Unless that spare fell into your enemies' hands, of course. Then, the Clan was in deep shit.
A kidnapping could not be tolerated and this kidnapping was a declaration of war. If he died, the Zen'ins would have a Six Eyes bearer in their clutches. So yeah, what choice did he have? Here he was, surrounded by the Zen'in Clan, embroiled in political affairs, when every fiber of his being yearned to be elsewhere. Despite his immense power, he was a mere pawn in the grand game of fate, buffeted by forces beyond his control.
He could allow no such thoughts when confronting the Zen'ins. They were masters of manipulation and deceit, adept at sniffing out and exploiting any weakness they perceived in their adversaries. Every member of the Gojo Clan knew all too well from the family's history the perils of appearing vulnerable in their presence, for it would only embolden them to strike with greater brutality.
"Why are you hiding up there? Are you afraid of us?"
More taunts. Naoya was too eager, almost quivering with excitement to provoke him, which gave Gojo pause. Pause was good. Gojo took a few deep breaths. Clear the mind somewhat. Suppress the eager ancestor within him who yearned for battle.
This heightened level of eagerness hinted at something beyond mere confrontation, something calculated and deliberate. They had successfully drawn him out, ripping him from Utahime's bedside in the early morning hours. Naoya's presence, his evident anticipation, suggested that their plan had unfolded exactly as intended.
But what was the end game?
Forcing himself to calm down further, Gojo reevaluated the situation. Was it likely they would attack him? He looked at each individual of the Hei and the Kukuru Unit standing at the ready, measuring their strength. No, they wouldn't attack first. It was far more likely that they were plotting to get him exiled. If the Geto-tragedy wasn't enough, starting a war among the Big Three by using violence first would be.
"You won't make me lose control," Gojo said, his tone a warning.
"Let's see about that. Anyway, why don't you come down from there, my neck is getting stiff."
The timing was suspicious, but surely, what had happened at the shrine yesterday could have nothing to do with the Zen'ins? Not that he understood what had happened, only that he had let Michizane loose and shit had hit the fan, with Utahime the one who suffered.
Because of him.
Gojo floated down from the roof slowly, taking satisfaction from the fact that several of the younger men scrambled backwards and away from him when he lowered his blindfold. The dance of atoms was a frantic, silent symphony of chaos, teetering on the brink of utter destruction.
"So," Naoya greeted him with barely contained excitement, his smirk betraying a sense of anticipation. Gojo stood before him, clad in traditional attire that mirrored Naoya's own, a visual reminder of the intertwined past that bound them together and yet set them apart. "Here you are."
When had that damn brat grown almost as tall as him? Gojo regarded the head of the Hei with all the disdain he could muster. Was it likely the Zen'ins would hand over the prisoners without bloodshed? Not in a million years. They had driven him into a corner.
"Let's negotiate," Gojo demanded.
"Hm, I don't know," Naoya cocked his head to the side tauntingly. "Looks to me like you're alone and have nothing I want. Except perhaps…"
Gojo's muscles tensed, his mind racing with warning signals. Don't, he thought, his jaw clenching in anticipation, don't mention her name.
Naoya's laugh resounded with unrestrained glee. "How can anyone be so predictable? Chill, Satoru. I'm not making that move. Not yet. But I do hope she's resting well on your grand estate. Better keep her safe, don't you think?"
The force of Michizane's anger took Gojo entirely by surprise. What an incredibly shitty start to the year.
###
"Please come back, I miss you."
Urgh, no. Gojo must have a good reason to be away and she had no right to put pressure on him, however urgent she felt her suspicions were. With a sigh, Utahime deleted the message and tossed her phone onto the bed, its screen illuminating the dimly lit room for a brief moment before fading into darkness. She felt trapped and restless, as if the walls of her spacious quarters were closing in on her with every passing moment.
She had eaten some soup earlier, which tasted bland and unappealing, but she had forced herself to finish it nonetheless. As a result, she was feeling a little better, at least physically.
Making one last effort to comply with Shoko's orders to rest and to get her mind off a pregnancy that she knew could not be natural, Utahime surveyed the books and magazines on the table next to her. "The Tale of Genji" by Murasaki Shikibu, unreadable due to its archaic language and a poetic complex style. "The Kokinshu", the first of 21 collections of Japanese poetry compiled at Imperial request. Incredibly important, sure, but she really wasn't in the mood for poetry. Finally, "The Tale of the Heike", an epic account of the struggle between the Taira clan and Minamoto clan for control of Japan at the end of the 12th century. Whoever had put it here had a sick sense of humor. It was the non-sorcerer account of one of the Clan Wars of old age, when the Zen'in and the Kamo Clans had fought each other to the death. Only that non-sorcerers had never caught on to what had really happened back then.
The magazines did nothing to lift her mood either. One, its cover adorned with bold headlines, was filled with a barrage of sensationalist stories, celebrity scandals, and political exposés. The articles were brimming with juicy gossip and shocking revelations, and Utahime found herself rolling her eyes at the tabloid-style reporting. Who in the Gojo household was reading such crap?!
The women-focused magazines, there were several, were a mix of fashion spreads, celebrity interviews, and relationship advice columns, bearing titles such as "Waiting for Mr. Busy: A Love Story." The column, written in a tone dripping with exaggerated sympathy, painted a picture of domestic bliss disrupted by the constant absence of the husband, who was portrayed as a heroic figure sacrificing his personal life for the greater good of the company. The woman, described as a paragon of patience and devotion, spent her days eagerly awaiting her husband's return, filling her time with domestic chores and longing gazes out the window. The author offered sage advice such as "Keep the home fires burning, even if it means sacrificing your own dreams and aspirations" and "Remember, absence makes the heart grow fonder (or so they say)."
Ack, how could anyone take such advice seriously in the modern age?!
With a growing sense of frustration and restlessness, Utahime retrieved her coat from the chair it had been draped over and drew back the blinds, eager to escape the confines of her room. As she pushed open the doors, she was met with the dreary sight of the gloomy morning, the overcast sky casting a somber pall over the shadowy garden beyond. Damn, it was cold! The heavy winter coat did nothing to prevent the icy air from touching her exposed legs and sneaking up her body. Utahime pulled it tighter around her as she began to hurry down the frosty garden path, hoping that a brisk pace would help to warm her.
Unfortunately, it didn't. Besides, the garden—which quickly became anything but—freaked her out. The bare branches of trees reached out like skeletal fingers against the gray sky. The silence was palpable, broken only by the sound of her breathing, the occasional creak of branches or the distant chirp of a winter bird. The paths twisted and turned in unexpected ways, leading her deeper into the woods. Utahime's footsteps echoed hollowly against the frozen ground, the sound reverberating in the empty expanse around her. Her breath formed wispy clouds in the frigid air as she trudged on, her senses clouding with a strange, dreamlike haze.
Her phone assured her it was 2nd January 2018.
Only that it wasn't reassuring anymore. She was lost in time and space and if she didn't manage to hear a familiar voice in the next few seconds, she would have a full blown panic attack. Her fingers had already pressed the necessary buttons. It was nothing short of miraculous that she had reception in this desolate place.
"Yes, Senpai?"
Utahime felt a surge of relief wash over her when Nanami's voice came through, calm and reassuring. Despite her attempts to hold back her emotions, a sob escaped her throat, reduced to a mere whimper in the cold air.
"Is everything alright?"
"I'm not sure," she pressed out. "I am… I am a little lost?"
It's the 2nd of January 2018 but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel like it at all. Help. Nanami, help.
"Where are you? Did something happen?"
Tons of things happened. An evil spirit impregnated me with something vile I think and I just know that Gojo will believe I carried another man's baby, when all I ever do is think of him. And Michizane will be angry with me for losing the child I promised, even though I didn't even know there was such a thing inside of me. Why is this happening to me? Whom did I piss off to deserve this?
"I'm alright," she quickly reassured him. "I'm just… I got lost."
My god, how silly she must sound. Lost? How lost could one get on Gojo's estate? She just needed to find her way back to the guest house.
"Do you want me to fetch you? Tell me where you are."
"Ah," Utahime swallowed, then shivered. She better keep walking, her feet were getting numb. "That's not necessary. I'm actually at the Gojo estate."
"Ah," Nanami cleared his throat. "I see. That's…. that's good. Stay there."
Alarm bells went off in her head immediately. Something has happened.
"Do you know where Gojo is?" Utahime demanded to know. "You have to tell me. It's imperative that you do!"
"Yes, I know," Nanami sighed. "Senpai, we made a huge mistake last year. The Zen'ins got a hold of Chia and the kids."
"He's there?" Alarmed, Utahime looked up at the sky, half-expecting to see a raging fire that signified the end of the Jujutsu Society as they knew it. Instead, she saw a pale sun appearing from behind the clouds and a bit of blue sky, the exact color of Gojo's eyes. "Nanami, do you know where the Zen'in estate is?"
"Yes, I do. I'm actually…"
"Come and fetch me."
"But Senpai…"
"I told you to fetch me!" she yelled.
Their destinies were entangled, the threads of their lives connected. The Gojo ancestor had called to her through the fabric of time, trying to ensnare her soul for reasons she was only slowly beginning to understand.
"Whatever you do, do not cede control to M," Utahime typed furiously. "Gojo, beware, this is a trap set up by an evil who has yet to reveal itself. I'm coming to you."