Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Gojo's apartment, casting a warm glow over the chic, minimalist furniture. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and a medley of gourmet breakfast dishes filled the air, delivered from a high-end café just moments ago.

He had always found his apartment sterile, lacking personality. But this morning, as Utahime sat across from him at the sleek dining table, her long hair cascading down her shoulders as she meticulously dissected a croissant, an unfamiliar yet pleasant sense of domesticity settled over him. He liked his apartment a lot like this. He'd probably like an absolute shithole with her in it too.

At the opposite end of the island counter, Shoko Ieiri nursed a cup of black coffee, her face contorted in a picture of misery. Bloodshot eyes and dark circles accentuated her thin features, her skin an unhealthy shade of pale. With each sip of the bitter coffee, she grimaced.

"Utahime," Shoko's voice was hoarse, "he's staring at you again." She gestured vaguely towards Gojo with her coffee cup. "This is too much horny energy for me this early in the morning."

Utahime glanced at Gojo, who simply grinned in response, then turned her attention back to Shoko. "Why don't you just heal yourself? You clearly aren't feeling well."

"Feels like cheating," Shoko murmured into her cup, knocking her knuckles against her head. "Gotta pay the price for my foolishness."

Utahime looked back at Gojo, lifting her eyebrows a fraction. He shrugged in response. Everybody grieved in their own way. He had learned to just let them be. Suffering stubbornly through what had to be a bad hangover was a sort of self-punishment he could empathize with.

He missed Geto every day. But for the first time in years, he felt like his friend was at peace. He also felt like he had dodged a bullet. Just the realization what Geto's body in the wrong hands could mean gave him the creeps. The same was true for his body. He had to take precautions. Could he perhaps put a seal on himself…? He'd have to explore possibilities at the first opportunity.

"You going back to Kyoto soon?" Shoko asked Utahime.

"Indeed," Utahime replied, gazing at her croissant with a fondness that Gojo, with a whole lot of fondness of his own, found charming. "As soon as I reach Hiroshi, we'll return to Gojo's estate."

Shoko's eyes widened comically. "Huh," she deadpanned. "Seems the brainwashing is working a little too well. Surely you meant you'd be heading back to teach at school, Utahime? You know, your actual job?"

"I'm taking some time off," Utahime took a delicate bite of the pastry. A dollop of marmalade spilled out, sending her tongue darting out to capture the sweet escapee. Gojo watched fascinated, a familiar warmth igniting in his gut.

Shoko scoffed, shaking her head as her narrowed gaze flickered to Gojo. "Just… odd, that's all I'm saying."

"It's the most sensible course," Gojo said defensively. "Utahime is particularly vulnerable right now." He hadn't told Utahime how relieved he was about her decision. How to get her to accept bodyguards at school had been one of the questions he fretted over ever since she had joined him on the estate.

"Oh, and why's that?" Shoko challenged him, her nose wrinkling. "Should've just left her alone in the first place, Gojo Satoru."

The words hung heavy in the air. It was true, but… What could he say in his excuse? I just couldn't. It had never been an option from the first time he had laid eyes on her.

"Threatening the higher-ups is a gutsy move," Shoko continued, her voice laced with a grudging respect. "But a gamble nonetheless. Can you guarantee Utahime's safety even if they decide to make a move against you?"

"They won't make a move against me now." Master Tengen could vouch for Geto's annihilation and nobody would dare go against him. "And we are married," Gojo announced proudly. "That's protection of the highest degree."

Shoko's reaction was explosive. She lurched back, sloshing half her coffee onto the table and letting out a startled yelp. "What the f—"

"Yes," Gojo puffed out his chest, arms folded defensively. "Utahime, why have you not told her?"

"It's… ah…," Utahime was as red as a tomato, and that annoyed him even more. Why was she reluctant to tell people about it? Everybody would be talking about it before long anyway.

"I knew it!" Shoko slammed her palm on the counter, the force rattling the cutlery. "Why didn't you admit it, Utahime?"

"I… well," Utahime stammered, looking down at her plate like she needed to hide her face.

"It's a binding vow of the heart," Gojo puffed out his chest even further. "The strongest bond two sorcerers can forge!"

Shoko's face went pale. "Bloody hell. Utahime, are you okay?"

Gojo bristled at the concern in Shoko's voice. "Of course she is! We both agreed to it."

"What's the condition?" Shoko muttered, her eyes darting between them, her coffee gulped down with nervous agitation.

Utahime's voice was barely audible. "We...we don't know."

"You don't know?" Shoko echoed, disbelief lacing her voice. "Well, that's just fantastic." Her gaze snapped back to Gojo, pinning him with a glare that could curdle milk.

"Sorry," Utahime said softly. "It wasn't meant to be a secret. We just… needed to process it ourselves first."

"I bet," Shoko sneered, picking up a piece of fruit and nibbling on it begrudgingly. "But if you two start flirting in front of me, I swear I'll walk out. Public displays of affection are a health hazard, especially for someone with my hangover."

"I'm 28," Gojo pushed himself away from the counter to stand behind Utahime. "Don't treat me like a headless teenager."

Shoko scrutinized him quietly for a while. "Let me be brutally honest here," she then said. "I wish you two all the happiness in the world. You are my best friends. But…," she took a deep breath that sounded almost like a sob. "You, Gojo Satoru, are not a man who will ever be able to rest and care for a family. You are a weapon, the only capable one we've got at the moment. It's you out there, or it's the end of us. You know this."

"Shoko!" Utahime protested.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Shoko mumbled, looking to the side with a pained expression.

Gojo put his hand on Utahime's shoulder and squeezed lightly. The truth was the truth. It was his fate, the one born with the unparalleled power of the Six Eyes. To be a weapon until the day he died.

He knew this and had made a grudging peace with it many years ago - but something new bloomed in his chest, a hesitant warmth that intertwined with the weight of his duty. Glancing down at Utahime, whose hand rested reassuringly on his arm, he let a flicker of hope ignite within him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to reconcile these two parts of himself. Maybe, a binding vow of the heart could rewrite his destiny. Maybe. If he believed in it enough?

###

"Utahime Sensei," Hiroshi Kuroda almost fell over so deep was his bow. "Gojo Sensei. It's such an honor. My deepest gratitude."

Utahime winced internally. She longed to reassure the trembling man with a simple "Don't worry" or "It's alright". But such words felt patronizing, especially under the weight of Gojo Satoru's stare. Towering beside her, Gojo seemed to fill the room, his unbound Six Eyes gleaming with an intensity that made Hiroshi appear even smaller, even more vulnerable.

"Were you tested?" Gojo's question cut through the air, devoid of honorifics and dripping with a casual rudeness.

"Yes, yes, I was," Hiroshi stammered, wringing his hands. "Back in high school. I am not even a Grade 4, I am very sorry, Gojo-sama."

"No need to be sorry about that," Utahime intervened, shooting Gojo an irritated look. Why antagonize the clearly intimidated historian any further? One of the Gojo family's drivers had fetched him from Kyoto University earlier where he was an assistant professor specializing in the political and social history of ancient Japan.

Gojo merely grunted, a frown creasing his brow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am," Hiroshi squeaked, a hint of defiance flickering in his owlishly blinking eyes.

"Your cursed energy output looks like a Grade 3 to me," Gojo insisted. "Maybe even higher."

"Oh," trembling even more, Hiroshi made a hasty step back. "Is that possible?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Gojo's amusement was laced with a cruel edge. "Years of practice can refine your cursed energy control. So, what is it?" He bent down slightly and Hiroshi blanched. "You're a particularly clever historian because you connect the dots like nobody else?"

Hiroshi looked at Utahime like he was begging for her help, so Utahime offered him a warm smile. "You possess a unique talent, Hiroshi-san. Your cursed energy allows you to glean information from historical remnants. That's really great."

Gojo's displeasure shifted, a disgruntled "hmph" escaping him as he turned towards her. Oh boy. What was his problem? Jealousy again?

"Library time, perhaps?" Utahime suggested innocently, throwing Gojo a loaded look. He was due to go on a mission, Yaga had called not ten minutes ago. He might have gone head to head with the higher-ups, but they still wouldn't hesitate to use him like this and he was still ready to be used. If not him, who else?

That common future that Shoko had talked about in the bleakest terms, it truly was elusive.

Ominously rattling a rather big key, Gojo stalked off towards one of the buildings nestled within the heart of the estate.

Hiroshi, momentarily forgetting his earlier timidity, gaped at the sight that unfolded before him. A wave of amusement washed over Utahime as she watched the gears turning in Hiroshi's head. Of course, this wasn't just an estate nor was it just a museum; it was a historian's dream, a meticulously preserved portal to a bygone era filled with contemporary life. His wide eyes darted from the meticulously raked gravel to the carefully placed ornamental rocks, each element whispering stories of a time long past.

"Utahime-sensei," he finally stammered, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement, "this is… this is incredible! The buildings and gardens are immaculate representations of the period's Shinden-zuke..." He trailed off, his gaze fixed on a particularly intricate roof ornament. "Is that a depiction of a Kirin? A mythological creature said to bring good fortune!"

Utahime smiled, his passion for history was infectious. "Yes, Hiroshi-san," she confirmed, "The Gojo family has meticulously maintained this estate for generations. As far as I know, it is kept pretty much in its traditional appearance."

"Generations!" he repeated, his voice tinged with awe. Utahime watched as his gaze swept over the landscape, memorizing every detail. "I never realized what treasure was hidden in these hills! The historical implications are staggering! Think of the information these structures could hold, the daily life they reflect..." He spun around, practically vibrating with excitement. "This is a goldmine for understanding Heian society! I am forever grateful!"

The library itself was a curious blend of old and new. Meager sunlight came through high windows made of traditional paper shoji screens, casting a warm glow on towering shelves crafted from dark, aged wood. These shelves groaned under the weight of countless leather-bound tomes and meticulously rolled scrolls.

However, this traditional facade was punctuated by unexpected modern elements. Sleek, metallic display cases lined one wall, their glass panes reflecting the flickering flames of strategically placed high-tech lamps. Within these cases, an assortment of artifacts gleamed. Utahime recognized them instantly – cursed objects, their power held in check by the sophisticated seals etched into the display cases.

Gojo shattered the reverent atmosphere with a resounding sneeze. He wrinkled his nose, pulling a face like he'd just smelled a particularly foul curse.

"Listen up, Kuroda," he said, turning around sharply. "You're only here because Utahime put in a good word. No outsider has ever gotten access to this library. I believe you understand the significance of that?"

Hiroshi, his scholarly enthusiasm momentarily extinguished, straightened his back and bowed deeply once more. His expression was earnest and sober. "Absolutely, Gojo-sama. I vow complete secrecy. Nothing I learn here will pass my lips or be put to paper without your permission. I would never do anything that could harm you or your family."

Gojo narrowed his eyes. "And you'll discuss everything you find with Utahime first, is that clear?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Hiroshi stammered, enthusiasm flickering back to life. He seemed on the verge of saluting like a soldier in his eagerness to please, but a single withering glance from Gojo froze him in his tracks.

"I'll see you off," Utahime said gently and grabbed Gojo's sleeve to pull him back outside. As they took a few steps away, Utahime stole a glance back at Hiroshi, who was already lost in a fervent examination of a particularly old scroll. A small smile played on her lips.

"Don't worry about him," she said, "I'm sure he's one of the good guys."

Gojo scoffed. "Yeah, one who knows exactly that he's fit for active duty but would rather bury his nose into dusty scrolls in safety than to face curses. Keep a good eye on him. Don't forget, there's still a Zen'in spy on the loose here on the estate."

"I'm sure your capable cousins will soon identify that person," Utahime went on her tiptoes to put her arms around Gojo's neck. "Please be careful."

"Utahime," he scolded playfully. "You forget who I am. The strongest sorcerer alive? Remember?"

"Oh, indeed, I forgot," she teased him. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, a silent promise exchanged in that fleeting touch. They stood there for a moment, a stolen breath of normalcy, gazing at each other's faces with rapture.

With a sigh, Gojo pulled away. "Alright, enough mush. Duty calls." He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'll be back soon. Maybe we can… go on a date later?"

Utahime's heart skipped a beat. "Sounds like a plan," she whispered, a smile blooming on her face. She'd love to go on a date with him.

Gojo winked before turning and striding off, his powerful form disappearing into the shadows. Utahime watched him go, a bittersweet pang tightening her chest. Yes, he was the Strongest, but she knew the dangers that awaited him, the darkness that clung to their world. She might be momentarily safe, but this crisis sure wasn't over. And as long as it wasn't, she was going to be afraid.

###

"Here, have some tea."

Utahime set the delicate porcelain tea set down with a gentle clatter, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Hiroshi, who hadn't moved from his hunched position at the table in hours, finally stirred. Surely, his back had to be aching from the prolonged strain.

He flinched, startled from his concentration. "Oh," he blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the dim light. "I am sorry, Utahime Sensei. How late is it?"

Utahime poured a steaming cup of tea, the fragrant aroma filling the air. "It's three o'clock," she informed him. "Have you found anything interesting?" She couldn't help but be curious. His absorption had been so complete, almost trance-like.

"Yes! Yes," he exclaimed, a tremor of excitement in his voice. He reached for a stack of scrolls, carefully shuffling them. "I found poems!"

Utahime raised an eyebrow. Poetry, though appreciated, wasn't exactly what they were after. "Poems…," she echoed, a touch of skepticism in her tone.

Undeterred, Hiroshi began to read aloud, his voice reverent: "Distant mountains fade in misty veils, Cherry blossoms bloom, ignorant of sorrow. Do fallen petals mimic fleeting glory's dream? The world's change, how truly ephemeral."

Utahime listened, momentarily transported by the evocative imagery. "Okay… yes, that's beautiful," she conceded, moved by the trademark beauty of the verse.

A triumphant grin spread across Hiroshi's face. "These are unpublished," he declared, his voice dropping to an excited whisper. "Imagine the impact they'll have if they are made available to the broader public! I'm glad I spent so much time studying Michizane no Sugawara's handwriting. Otherwise, it would have taken me days to decipher them."

Unbidden, a memory flickered into existence – Michizane seated at a low table, brush poised in hand, ink waiting to dance across the paper. It was a bittersweet memory, a flicker of a life that had held a kind of joy that Utahiime suddenly missed. She quickly pushed the memory down, the weight of that non-past a burden she couldn't afford to carry right now.

"Listen to this one," Hiroshi continued to gush, oblivious to her sudden shift in mood. "Spring wind caresses cheeks, yet feels so cold, The wife I dreamt of, vanished faraway. Blooming flowers too, seem hollow now. The life we held, journeyed with her to the unknown. Beneath the moon, I weep, alone."

Hiroshi paused, looking at Utahime expectantly. She was staring at the poem in his hand, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.

"Utahime Sensei?" He blinked in confusion.

"It's… sad," she managed to press out, quickly wiping her face. "Refresh my memory, was Michizane married?"

"Yes, he was," Hiroshi said, "but it ended in a tragedy. It is unclear what happened exactly, but his wife died early. Afterwards, he was falsely accused of treason by his rivals, the Fujiwara clan, and was exiled."

"He must have had children though," Utahime ventured on. No children, no bloodline, no Gojos.

"The most reliable source claims he had 23 children, but only the two youngest were allowed to accompany him into exile," Hiroshi nodded. "Others are very vague about the number of children."

"23?" Utahime echoed. "And his wife died early?"

"His first wife died early," on Hiroshi's cheek, two excited red dots had appeared. "The 23 children were from his second and third and one might assume a fourth wife."

The poem made her think he had lost his first wife and his first child. The poor man.

"Do you know how the Zen'ins are related to this tragedy?" Utahime asked, remembering Mai's essay.

Hiroshi moved his head from side to side. "That part is quite unclear. Taira no Masakado, the Zen'ins Venerated Ancestor, didn't even know Michizane according to the records we have. He was only born shortly before Michizane's death."

Utahime frowned. Strange. She remembered that in the domain expansion, she had initially been promised to someone named Taira. Had the feud started later, after Michizane's death…?

"Many details from the past are obscure," Hiroshi explained like he had to make excuses. "And not every source is trustworthy."

"If you can, find out more about the first wife," Utahime told Hiroshi. There could be a connection to what she had experienced. Michizane's latest fixation on her, him calling her "my bride", him catching her in a domain expansion where she was forced to be his wife all pointed in that direction.

"Excellent idea!" Hiroshi beamed, newly energized. "He must have been heartbroken after her death. Listen to this one!" He launched back into his recitation. "Plum blossoms paint the window, whispering spring's embrace, Yet my heart, yearning for you, finds no solace. Distant in the capital, only your veiled form remains. These blossoms, once seen together, bloom anew today. Though scattered they may be, carried on spring's gentle breeze, One day, I'll bloom again with you, in a season yet to dawn."

Utahime felt a wave of emotion wash over her. The poem's yearning resonated deep within her, stirring a longing she didn't welcome and a fear that chilled her to the bone. The chains of fate, her brain conjured up an ominous phrase.

She needed a break.

"Something else you could look for, perhaps," she said before excusing herself. "If you find anything about my family, the Ioris, in relation to the Gojos, I'd be very interested too."

Something in the past was pulling invisible strings. She all but felt them snake around her wrists and ankles, the presence of the past a palpable threat she had no idea how to deal with.

###

Half an hour later, Utahime - who had taken a calming stroll on the vast grounds of the estate until her cheeks were flushed - stared at her phone with a sinking feeling. A message from Chia.

"Please save us," the message read. "If you don't get us out of here tonight, I will end our lives."

Not good. With a sense of urgency, Utahime quickened her pace towards the main building, hoping to find someone from the Gojo family there. Thankfully, it didn't take long to come across Gojo's two cousins, Ayumi and Ema, who were putting their heads together over some documents in the main living room.

"Is something the matter?" Ayumi and Ema's eyes widened with concern upon seeing Utahime's hurried entrance.

"I'm alright," Utahime dispelled their fears quickly. "But look at what I just received from Chia." She extended her phone, the screen displaying the chilling message.

"Damn!" Ema swore in English. "She is threatening suicide?"

"Could it be a trap?" Ayumi mused. "Gojo was pretty clear about staying away from the Zen'ins."

Utahime shook her head, her gaze glued to the phone screen. Two minutes after the first message, another had arrived from Chia: "A shame for the red car that burnt in vain."

"That's meant to tell us it's a genuine message because the Zenins wouldn't know about the car, right?" Ema pondered, brows furrowed. Utahime had told them about the ruse to make Chia and her kids disappear, sacrificing Nanami's super-fast red car in the process.

"Unless they tortured it out of her," Ayumi countered. "We can't assume they're behaving like normal humans."

"What do we do? Gojo won't be back for a while," Utahime pointed out, frustration lacing her voice. "I texted him but he never looks at his phone during missions."

"Tonight, she says?" Ayumi echoed, the weight of the time constraint adding another layer of pressure. "I wonder what is happening over there."

"Should I contact Nanami?" Utahime considered, "he might know what to do."

"Aren't we glad for capable men," Ema murmured cynically.

Utahime's phone started buzzing. "It's Nanami," she announced to the room. "He probably got the same message." Taking a deep breath, she pressed answer. "Nanami?"

"Utahime Senpai," Nanami greeted her with urgency, "is Gojo there?"

"No," Utahime sighed, "he was sent on a mission and I'm not sure he'll be back in time. I received Chia's message too. What do you think is happening?"

"They might be about to send the smaller child into the Disciplinary Pit. I dare not think about what they could do to the girl."

There were a lot of very horrible things that could be done to girls, she didn't have to think hard to know. But at the very least, Mayu was worth much more alive than dead. Not so her little brother. Who, Utahime remembered well, was spoiled and ill-behaved. The Zen'ins had no patience and would know no mercy.

"Do you have a plan?" Utahime asked, her heart beating rapidly. They would have to do something, wouldn't they. She put Nanami on speaker phone. "I'm here with Gojo's two cousins."

"We have a hunch about the Zenin spy," Ema announced. "The maid with the sorrowful eyes."

"We could use her somehow," Ayumi added.

Utahime frowned. "You can't trust a spy. Perhaps we could use her to spread wrong information? To draw some of the more powerful Zen'ins away?"

"But how do we get into the compound?" Nanami wondered. "Forcing my way in wouldn't work."

"No need for force," Utahime said, shaking her head. "I have an idea."

She would ask Mai to help her. Mai had to know about ways into the compound that were not as heavily guarded and warded as the front. Mai would also know where a woman like Chia would be kept. And if necessary, they'd get Gojo's Zen'in student involved too.

"I could create a diversion at the front," Nanami suggested. "And we could try and get the spy to tell them that she heard that Gojo Satoru is returning early from a mission because of some revenge plans."

"Are you on your way here?" Utahime asked, because it sounded like Nanami was driving. "Pick me up at the front gate and we take it from there."

"I'll tell Satoru that all of this was my idea," Ayumi pulled a face. "He'll go ballistic, won't he? Please let nothing go wrong."

"He can't save everyone all the time, and neither can he protect them," Utahime said resolutely. Let him go ballistic. Then, she remembered Hiroshi in the library. "Could one of you keep an eye on our historian guest? Make sure he remembers to eat, drink and sleep."

Ema giggled.

"Yeah, you do it," Ayumi grinned.

"He's cute," Ema blushed. "All polite and earnest."

"I'll make sure our spy hears some rumors about dear Satoru," Ayumi got up and flicked imaginary dust off the front of her dress. "Godspeed, Utahime. May fortune smile on you."

Strangely enough, despite the considerable risk they were taking with this, Utahime felt excited. She hadn't been on any missions in so long. But wasn't she a semi-grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer, and quite a capable one at that? It felt right to be doing this. Maybe fortune was indeed smiling. It had to happen once in a while.