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She’s gone.
The words echoed in Gojo’s head repeatedly. His cursed energy prickled underneath his skin, too big for his body, but allowing it to bleed freely would be dangerous. It was already causing enough problems as it was. He couldn’t rein it in entirely, not with this terrible storm hanging over his head, and so the people around him were growing more uncomfortable.
Mei Mei eyed him sideways. Kusakabe shifted in his spot against the wall. Ijichi coughed into his hand. The other faces didn’t matter. A handful of sorcerers gathered under the order of the Higher-Ups. Gakuganji was among them, a grim expression on his weathered face. Gojo idly daydreamed about punching him in the jaw. He’d even drop Infinity to feel the pain lance across his knuckles.
It was his fault they were here right now. It was his fault that–
She’s gone.
“Gojo.”
A hand laid on his shoulder shook Gojo out of his dark thoughts, and he turned his head slightly to find Yaga standing beside him. His former teacher said nothing else – no words of comfort or warning – but the firm look on his face was enough for Gojo to know what he wasn’t saying. But it wasn’t enough to erase the same thought that continued to ricochet around his brain.
She’s–
A grin twitched onto his lips. “What’s with all the glum faces? You’re already acting like the worst has happened.”
No one said a word or even met his blindfolded gaze. They knew the truth. He could feel the fakeness oozing from him. He was normally a lot better at this. Lies came to him easily, more so every day, but the usual mask was sliding off of him to reveal the terrible truth underneath. Because the truth was, as powerful as he was, as strong as he knew he was, he wasn’t invincible. Despite Infinity shielding him from physical attacks, he found himself vulnerable.
It was startling to realize just how weak he was, especially in a room full of friends and enemies.
The room devolved into a discussion that Gojo had little interest in, not if it couldn’t provide him with useful information. They only had a few facts as it was: Utahime had been dispatched to assist in an exorcism, but neither she nor the sorcerer she’d been assigned to help had checked in. One day could’ve been excusable, especially when the grade one curse was hiding out in a rural era, but after two days of no word and no sign of them, everyone had grown restless.
Gojo had to fight the urge to check his phone, but he knew he would only be greeted with his unanswered calls and texts, neither of which he wanted anyone in the room to know about.
All that mattered was that Utahime was missing, and no one had a clue where she was.
“Could it be possible that the curse overpowered them?” one sorcerer suggested.
Gojo shook his head. “No.”
“Kanake is only a grade two sorcerer, and Iori-san is a semi-grade one–”
Which was a joke. Anyone who had seen Utahime at work, especially anyone who had felt her cursed energy flood through their body and entangle with their soul, would know that Utahime was misclassified. She should’ve been a grade one sorcerer, but the Higher Ups had refused to bump her up that final rung on the ladder, holding the promotion over her head like a rotten carrot.
“The curse could have ki–”
“No,” Gojo interrupted. “The curse wasn’t exorcised. It fled. Something scared it off.”
“How would you know that?” Gakuganji asked.
Gojo folded his arms across his chest, keeping himself still against the wall. “Because I went to check the scene myself.”
Gakuganji frowned further, which didn’t seem possible. “Why? We sent Managers to survey the scene, but there didn’t appear to be any disturbances.”
It was like they had vanished into thin air, like they’d never existed, but Gojo knew that wasn’t true. The hole in his soul where Utahime should’ve been had grown in her absence, reminding him that she wasn’t here. As long as he could feel it, she was still alive, even if it pained him.
“I’m not saying they’re total shit at their jobs, but none of them can read cursed energy residuals as well as me,” Gojo pointed out. It wasn’t a brag. It wasn’t even an observation. It was a fact. His Six Eyes granted him abilities that took other sorcerers decades to hone. “There were multiple cursed energy signatures, including Utahime’s, but the curse’s ran in the opposite direction.”
A wave of unease passed through the room, people glancing around as the information sank in and implications rose to the surface.
Mei Mei leaned forward, tapping a manicured nail on the table. She wouldn’t be afraid to voice the question they all had on their minds. “Curses or sorcerers?”
“Sorcerers,” Gojo confirmed.
Ijichi winced, and Kusakabe swore under his breath. That unease had swelled into a storm. Gojo watched as Gakuganji sank back in his seat and tightened his grip on the head of his cane. Soro Soro Kinku wasn’t the only innate cursed technique capable of boosting another sorcerer, but it was the strongest, so it was very valuable. Even worse, it was deeply coveted, to the point where the Higher Ups had control over who she used it on. Not everyone was allowed close to her.
He wasn’t. They had made sure of that back when they were teenagers, before they could figure out what they would mean to one another.
Many curse user groups operated in and out of Japan. Gojo had spent the past six years working hard to crack down on them, though none of them were the true source of his ire. The existence of Soro Soro Kinku had been discussed on dark web forums over the years, but because Utahime was so carefully guarded, the threat over her head was idle.
Or so they thought. They’d allowed themselves to grow too lax, too comfortable, especially him. He would’ve never expected someone might have the balls to cross him. Then again, it wasn’t like he could make his presence in Utahime’s life known too much. Maybe they thought he wasn’t a major threat. After all, as far as everyone knew, he and Utahime were colleagues at best and frienemies at worst.
It couldn’t have been farther from the truth, but no one knew that.
If a curse user group had decided to take a risk and nab her in an attempt to use Soro Soro Kinku to boost their strength and abilities, they had all but signed their death warrants. He would make sure of that.
“Utahime is strong and stubborn,” Shoko said, her gaze downcast as she stared at the table. “She won’t help them, no matter what. What if–?”
“They won’t kill her,” Gojo said.
“How do you know?”
“Because she isn’t worth anything to them dead.”
He could’ve perhaps softened the blow for Shoko, who was struggling almost as much as him to contain her emotions. Utahime was her best friend, one of the few bright and consistent spots in their lives. He could sense the same ache in her, but he couldn’t let it slip.
“As long as she keeps fighting them – which happens to be Utahime’s speciality – they’ll keep her alive.”
Shoko looked up to him. “Satoru…”
Gojo pushed away from the wall. “I’ll find her.”
“How?” Yaga asked.
By any means possible. Gojo was prepared to tear through the entirety of Japan to find her, even if it meant breaking more than a few rules. He’d strangle every curse user group until they had no choice but to answer him. There was a chance this hunt would lead him to a difficult end, but he didn’t care. To everyone in this room, it would look like another mission for him, but the truth was a lot darker than that.
If he didn’t find her, Gojo wasn’t sure if he’d be able to walk out of this.
*
Gojo was hunched in a chair, his face in his hands, when Kusakabe found him.
“What the hell happened?”
It was really quite simple: Gojo Satoru and Iori Utahime happened.
He shrugged his shoulders. Not that it mattered anymore. Everyone involved in this mess was dead, including the sorcerer who had used their connections with the Higher Ups to convince them to let Utahime assist him. She was here, and they wouldn’t be able to touch her anymore. That was all that mattered.
“What the fuck, Gojo, you can’t just–”
“I can, and I did.”
A towel landed on his head, making him pull his face out of his hands and sit upright.
“At least clean yourself up,” Kusakabe grumbled. “You’re covered in blood.”
Gojo blinked, glancing down at himself. His mind dimly registered the blood staining his hands and spattering his clothes, but it didn’t look real. He could vaguely recall what happened – the screams of pain and terror, the pleas that fell on deaf ears, the snapping of breaking bones, the crackle of cursed energy, and the silence that followed. His body was forced to remember for him. A dull sore coursed through his body, nothing acute or specific, a sign of him physically exerting himself.
It wasn’t a feeling he was used to experiencing, but he’d dropped Infinity for this. He’d wanted to feel their lives come to an end with his bare hands.
Tossing the towel aside, Gojo stood up. “I need to see Utahime.”
Kusakabe shook his head. “Shoko is still working with her. She said no one can disturb her while–”
“I don’t give a shit,” Gojo growled, stepping forward. “I need to see her–”
Even though Gojo had once considered Kusakabe to be the most chicken shit sorcerer he’d ever met, the man had the audacity to chose now to be brave, taking a stand and halting Gojo with a hand against his chest. “Do you hear yourself? I’m pretty sure you’ll only scare Utahime more. You look insane right now, Gojo.”
“I don’t–”
“You look like you haven’t slept in days, you’re covered in blood, and your eyes–” Kusakabe let out a breath. “Your cursed energy is out of control. I can barely stand it right now.”
Gojo sneered. “Gonna piss your pants?”
“If I can’t tolerate it, how do you think Utahime will handle it?” Kusakabe shot back.
Out of all the things Kusakabe could’ve said, that was one of the few things that could snap Gojo back into focus. Due to the nature of Soro Soro Kinku, Utahime was very intuitive when it came to cursed energy – and very sensitive to it as well. Back when they were younger, she often complained that he used his cursed energy to rile her up – which, to be fair, she wasn’t wrong about – but things had slowly evolved over the years into something warmer and softer, and she finally admitted the truth.
His cursed energy didn’t bother her because of its strength. It scared her because of how good it felt.
He could still remember that night as clear as day. The two of them lying in his bed, naked and warm, tangled up in the sheets, her cheek resting on his bare chest right over his heart. She’d been drawing symbols over his skin with her fingertip, only for him to realize she was tracing his cursed energy.
When he found her at that curse user’s hideout, she had been drugged so much that she couldn’t move or speak. She couldn’t even react to his cursed energy despite the fact that it was burning from him like a bonfire, her own cursed energy fluttering weakly. Dimmed, to a fine point that he could barely see it.
“I don’t know what the hell your problem is right now, but you need to let Shoko work,” Kusakabe told him. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath. “Take a shower. Change your clothes. Make yourself look like a man instead of a monster. I don’t think Utahime would want to see you like this after what she went through.”
Gojo clenched his jaw, but he didn’t push the matter further.
That was the thing about love: it was as monstrous as it was beautiful. Gojo hadn’t even realized what he was capable of until that moment. Only then had he been able to understand why Geto had gone to such horrific lengths. He was willing to become a monster for love.
*
Once upon a time, Utahime meant very little to him.
She was just another student – older than him but smaller and weaker. She took her duties as a senpai very seriously, always willing to help out students in the years below her. He had scoffed at her offer, of course, not needing her help in the slightest. It had offended her, and she’d snapped at him before storming off. Sure, he’d been scolded before, but no one had yelled at him like that.
It had amused him, and Gojo, young and excited about his newfound freedom at school, couldn’t help but tease and fluster her further. He enjoyed the way her cheeks burned pink with embarrassment and how her honey brown eyes flashed with irritation. She was entertaining, even if she hadn’t meant to be.
And it likely would’ve stayed like that had he not been forced into a room by the Higher Ups and found himself standing opposite a quiet Utahime. She’d never been quiet before, not with him, so he couldn’t understand why she was now, even when he tried to pester her like usual. He didn’t know what he was doing there or why she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
Even after he was pushed to enter a Binding Vow with Utahime that would ensure she would never use her cursed technique on him, it would take him a long time to understand the truth. By then, it was too late to undo what they’d done as kids. Like with Infinity, there was always something separating them, and that distance yawned like a great canyon as they grew closer.
Had it been that moment that pushed them to where they were now? If the Higher Ups hadn’t forbidden them to be together, would they have been drawn to each other in secret?
Would he have found himself here now, pained with desperation and burning with anger as he stood outside the room Utahime was being kept in?
He warred with himself, his hand hovering over the doorknob. More than anything, he wanted to see her, but if they found out he was here, there was a chance they’d take her away again. They couldn’t risk it.
“You’re not supposed to be here, you know.”
Gojo turned his head to the side, finding Shoko leaning against the wall. Like him, she had showered and changed, washing away Utahime’s blood from her hands. Just because the curse users hadn’t killed her didn’t mean they hadn’t hurt her. Not all of the blood on his clothes had belonged to the curse users he’d torn apart.
“Why not?” Gojo asked, even though he knew the answer. “We’re friends.”
“Friends, huh,” Shoko hummed. “I’m pretty sure friends wouldn’t do what you did.”
“I’d kill for you,” Gojo said.
“And I appreciate that,” Shoko replied, “but that was more than just a friendly gesture.”
Yaga had called it overkill. Thinking back on it now, Gojo knew what it looked like. He’d done more than murder the curse users who had been holding Utahime captive. Killing them would’ve been easy for someone like Gojo – just a flick of his hand, and either Blue or Red would’ve taken them out – but he’d made sure they suffered first.
Calling it overkill hadn’t been meant to be a scolding. It was a warning.
Gojo thought he was pretty good at playing close to the vest and keeping his thoughts a secret, but in losing control over Utahime, he’d exposed his hand more than ever before.
“What did you do, Satoru?” Shoko asked.
He shrugged. “I found Utahime and killed the curse users who kidnapped her and conspired to use her.”
“No, before that.” Shoko didn’t need to be able to look him in the eyes to see him. She’d always been more perceptive than most. To be honest, hiding things from her had been more difficult than the Higher Ups. “What did you do with Utahime?”
His hand fell away from the door. “I didn’t–”
It was second nature to deny everything when it came to Utahime. They were colleagues, sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, former classmates. She was a competent sorcerer, but she was weak compared to him, so he had no interest in her cursed technique. She was entertaining, but she didn’t mean anything to him beyond that. He was always pleased to see her, if only because he enjoyed teasing her so much, but he didn’t think about her often.
He couldn’t deny her now though. The idea of denying how much she meant to him after nearly losing her made him sick to his stomach.
“I can’t– We can’t–”
“I know,” Shoko murmured. “She told me about the Binding Vow.”
His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. She had told Shoko about it? He hadn’t told anyone, not even Geto, too confused and embarrassed by the whole thing. Once he started to realize just how much had been taken away from them, he’d been too ashamed of himself to speak of it. How could he have let himself do that? Why hadn’t he said no? Why had he let them take her away from him before he could find out for himself?
“When?”
“About a year ago,” Shoko said. “She was complaining about the Higher Ups trying to push suitors on her, something about them picking the right person for her technique.”
Ah, that would’ve been after they’d gotten together in secret then. Shoko might not have made the connection, at least not that night. The Higher Ups wanted Utahime to settle down with a sorcerer of their choosing, one who was approved to have access to Soro Soro Kinku. They hadn’t been as pushy before, but maybe the two of them hadn’t been as discreet as they thought. If the Higher Ups had been concerned about his connection to her, of course they would’ve wanted to shield her from him even more.
“I was a stupid kid,” Gojo muttered. “I didn’t know.”
Shoko tilted her head. “And now?”
Gojo hesitated. It was so unlike him, but he found himself standing at a crossroads. Denying the truth wasn’t just a force of habit – it was a means to protect them – but it felt wrong now. However, speaking aloud what Utahime truly meant to him would make everything so much more real. What they had now, this secret thing behind doors, only belonged to them. It was their own little world. If he spoke the truth now, it would pour out into the open, and he didn’t think he’d be able to hide it anymore.
“It’s okay,” Shoko said, letting him down easy. “I think I know.”
“Know what?” Gojo asked warily.
Shoko smiled faintly. “She kept mumbling your name while I was healing her.”
Gojo’s heart stuttered in his chest. “What?”
“I was a little offended, you know,” Shoko continued, though he could tell by the smile on her face that she was joking. “I was the one working my ass off to heal her, but she could only think about you.”
He didn’t know what to say. It had been easy to hide things from everyone in the beginning – the scandalous nature even made it a little fun – but as things progressed and their relationship grew deeper, she had to get on him for being too careless. If his teasing turned too flirtatious or he got a little too touchy in public with her. He had to be more careful, but he couldn’t help himself. Both of them had more or less assumed that he would be the one to shatter the illusion and reveal the truth, but it turned out to be her.
Gojo let out a breath. “I don’t think I can hide it anymore.”
“I know.” Shoko paused, then added, “Things are going to be different now. If you really want to do this with her, you have to be serious about it.”
“I will,” Gojo insisted. “I am.”
“You have to promise, Satoru,” Shoko told him. “This left more of a mark on her than you realize. Nothing is going to be the same. The moment you walk in that door, it’s going to change everything, and you need to decide right now if you want to go through with it.”
Gojo scoffed. “I’ve made one Binding Vow already. Do I need to make another one?”
“This is stronger than a Binding Vow,” Shoko warned. “You can break a promise. That makes it more important.”
“I am serious,” Gojo insisted, close to anger. “I love her, Shoko. I’m not supposed to, but I do. Is that what you want to hear?”
Shoko looked him over, an unusually soft look on her face. “How does it feel to say that out loud?”
Gojo snapped his mouth shut. It occurred to him suddenly that he had never said the words aloud, not even to Utahime, but they were the absolute truth. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her, and she was right behind this door, waiting for him, and if he went inside, if he went to her, he would have to accept the fact that everything would need to change. He couldn’t hide this anymore. He couldn’t hide her.
It was easy to lie. It was terrifying to tell the truth, especially one that shouldn’t be true.
Instead of answering Shoko, Gojo turned to face the door. He opened it, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Utahime asleep on the bed. A large scar crossed half her face, over her cheek and the bridge of her nose, a reminder of the reality Gojo now faced.
Nothing would be the same. Nothing could be the same.
And he didn’t want it to be.
The sound of the door closing behind him woke Utahime. She stirred in bed, blearily rubbing her eyes as she sat up, looking just like she did whenever a call for an exorcism interrupted their night.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty.”
Utahime blinked in the dim lighting. “Gojo? What are you…?”
“I came to see you,” Gojo told her, stepping forward.
She was growing more aware, but exhaustion still clung to the edges of her consciousness. She was softer in this moment, unable to hold up the walls she’d built to protect herself. “You shouldn’t…”
“I don’t care.”
She frowned. It was so pretty, he thought, even with the fresh scar on her face. How could anyone be this pretty when they frowned? “If anyone finds you here–”
“I don’t care,” Gojo repeated, shaking his head. “Besides, I don’t think it matters anymore.”
“Oh.”
Gojo stopped at her bedside and took one of her small hands in his, marveling at the difference. How could he deny the urge to hold her whenever he wanted? How could he possibly let her go now that he knew the truth? There was no going back now. Eventually, the truth always crept to the surface, no matter how much it was hidden. Not even Gojo was strong enough to deny that.