Chapter Text
Utahime had been so excited when she’d officially received her license as a freelance sorcerer for Jujutsu Tech. Her excitement had lasted her one month, before the shine began to wear off.
Missions assigned during school had been carefully structured and planned around their class schedule. Missions on the field as a solo grade two sorcerer were completely random. Utahime could go weeks without a decent mission, leaving her struggling to make rent, or she would be given back to back missions that would nearly kill her with exhaustion.
She hadn’t anticipated how lonely it would be, as well. Her Manager was brusque and clinical, uninterested in doing anything beyond providing her a Veil. Several times, when she’d taken too long with an exorcism, she’d dropped the Veil to find her Manager gone, his contract not including getting her back.
She became competent in stitching herself up, in figuring out when she was so exhausted that she wouldn’t survive another mission, in using alcohol to drown the thoughts in her head.
Months passed. Utahime wasn’t sure she could recognize herself anymore, from the hopeful sorcerer she’d been starting out.
When the mission came to accompany a student on their mission, Utahime wasn’t sure what to expect. A part of her was excited to get back to her school, maybe get to see if Shoko wanted to catch up over some sushi. The rest of her was already anticipating how hard it would be to work with someone, when she’d been working alone for so long.
She arrived in front of the school, nerves and anticipation making her jittery.
Nerves turned to stone in her gut at the sight awaiting her.
“You?” she blurted out.
Gojo looked up from his phone. He was using white bandages over his eyes, instead of the glasses Utahime remembered.
“Me,” he said, tone mocking. “What, didn’t you miss me, senpai?”
“I didn’t expect . . .” Utahime trailed off. She’d heard about Geto’s defection, and swallowed against the memories of their little trio hanging off each other, Gojo pointing at her and laughing, Geto slapping Gojo’s head to tell him off for teasing her.
“I h-heard about Geto, I—“
“Don’t get involved in something that doesn’t concern you,” he cut her off. Utahime shrank under the way his cursed energy burned. For a moment, she’d thought she’d seen a sliver of emotion, but it was hidden under a cold mask now. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Utahime cleared her throat. “I wasn’t told . . .”
“Can’t even do your job, huh?” he said scathingly. Utahime bit her lip. Gojo had always teased her, but he’d never sounded so . . . callous. “You’re supposed to boost me, just a trial as we clean out a cursed area.”
Utahime glanced around. “No Manager?”
“I’ve learned how to teleport. No need.”
“Teleport?” she repeated disbelieving. “You’re joking, right?”
His grin was bright and shallow. Utahime hated it. “Don’t you know I’m the strongest?”
“How do we—“
Two long strides and he was in her space. Utahime flinched back with a curse as his arms encircled her, fingers clasping together in jujutsu.
The sensation was like electricity, crackling over her skin. Utahime had to stop herself from screaming as she clutched to whatever was solid in front of her.
“I knew you’d try and make a move on me someday, Utahime, but this is rather bold.”
Utahime pushed away from Gojo, nearly falling over with how dizzy she felt.
“You could’ve warned me,” she said tartly.
“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”
Before, Gojo would’ve continued to tease her relentlessly. Utahime shifted, pained with the knowledge that she was out of the loop, and that nothing she could say would help.
“Can you at least tell me about the curse?” she asked.
“Multiple curses, actually.” Gojo stretched. He used to slouch, hiding his height behind sloppy posture, but now he stood a lot taller, making Utahime feel small next to him. Even with that height, there was something weighted about him. Like he was carrying too much on his shoulders. “Shouldn’t be a problem, even without your boost.”
Utahime hadn’t done her ritual in months. She wasn’t quite sure why the higher ups had chosen now to trial her technique in combination with Gojo’s. She had been under strict orders to never use her boost on other sorcerers unless told.
“But . . . you want me to use it?” she checked.
“I don’t care either way.” Gojo’s mouth settled too comfortably into a sneer. “This is under orders from the higher-ups.”
“Right,” Utahime said slowly. “I’ll set up the Veil.”
The forest they were in was steeped in cursed energy, not all of it negative. Utahime sensed vague vibrations, some of her technique reaching out and urging her to sing. She pressed her lips together against it, finishing the Veil and taking a deep breath.
“So, you gonna do it? Or what, not strong enough?”
“Just because you’re hurting, doesn’t mean you need to put other people down,” Utahime said. She didn’t look to see whether her words would affect Gojo as she toed off her boots and socks, shivering as her feet sank into the cold dewy grass, preparing herself for her ritual’s dance. “I don’t care if you don’t want to be here, we have a job to do.”
“What do you know, Utahime? You’re just a pet of the higher ups, aren’t you?”
Gojo Satoru had the unerring ability to always get under her skin, no matter how mature and logical she tried to be. Utahime gnashed her teeth together, whirling and getting up in Gojo’s face. She shoved a finger at him, expecting to hit Infinity, but surprised to hit his chest. “Don’t be a brat,” she growled. She didn’t flinch under the full gaze of Six Eyes she could feel on her. “You may have no respect, but you—“
Everything went dark for a moment. Utahime jumped, pulling up her cursed energy defensively, and then she blinked to find Gojo crumpled on the forest floor in front of her, blood trickling down to stain the bandages over his eyes. She immediately crouched defensively over him, looking around for their assailant.
The old woman that emerged from the trees at first glance seemed normal, except Utahime realized with horror that her body was covered in blinking eyes.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
The woman jogged a stone in her hand. “Merely defending my shrine,” she said. “I prefer to avoid bloodshed. He seemed strong. I didn’t want to fight.”
Utahime bared her teeth. “Oh, you think I can’t fight?”
“We can, if you want. But you seem smart. I think we can come to an agreement.”
Utahime narrowed her eyes. “You’re a curse user?”
“I may be condemned as a curse user by your silly jujutsu society, but I am not cruel or evil. Can you see that? Or are you too blind already?”
Utahime realized her breath was puffing in and out of her chest quickly, revealing her fear. She took a slower breath, staying in her crouched position over Gojo’s body.
“Then why attack us?” she asked.
“Two jujutsu sorcerers, hunting down my cursed energy. Am I supposed to take it lying down, little one?” she laughed. “No, you need to learn a lesson, don’t you? Sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
Utahime frowned. “We didn’t choose to come here, you know, we were sent. You’re blaming us when we haven’t done anything wrong.”
“That isn’t fair, is it? Well, that’s life, girl.” Quick as a blink, she was in front of them. Utahime bit back a yelp and tried to strike out to get the woman away, but found herself on the ground, staring up at the sky.
“Stay down.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Let us go, we won’t fight.”
“You won’t. But there needs to be a lesson. You broke into my shrine, and the cost must be absorbed. I like you, little one. You have much spirit.”
Utahime felt a cold finger on her brow and whimpered.
“You can make the choice, I think. You or your friend. Who will bear my mark and my curse?”
Utahime swallowed heavily, closing her eyes briefly against the terror.
“What’s the curse?” she whispered.
“What do you think?” The woman leaned into Utahime’s sight line, seven eyes blinking at her. “It’s not permanent. Merely for a year, that your eyes will be mine. Your friend here seems strong, I’m sure he can handle it. Don’t feel like you have to be the hero.”
Did she pluck eyeballs from skulls? Utahime shivered. “Me,” she whispered. “I’ll take it.”
“Are you sure?” The woman’s face twisted. “I think this boy is more deserving.”
A million thoughts raced through Utahime’s mind, coalescing into one moment and one important thought. Utahime shook her head. “I’m his senpai. It is my responsibility.”
“It is nice, seeing some nobility left in jujutsu.” The woman smiled, almost gently. “Brace yourself, little girl. This will hurt.”
Utahime didn’t allow herself to scream, not when the knife slid across her cheekbone, or when she felt a burning pain in her eyes. She couldn’t fall asleep, either, not with Gojo still unconscious and vulnerable.
The curse user walked away. Utahime sagged in relief.
“Gojo,” she whispered. She strained against the darkness surrounding her, reaching out until her weak hand collided with his shoulder. “Gojo wake up, please.”
She knew the moment he truly woke up, because her hand was thrust backwards as his Infinity snapped back into place.
“Utahime?”
He was awake. With that comforting knowledge, Utahime passed out.
For some reason, Satoru felt like he was waking up from a dream. He felt a warm cursed energy surrounding him. He frowned, head throbbing. No, that wasn’t right. The warm cursed energy he was enjoying was tinged with fear and pain. Why did his head hurt?
“Gojo.”
Utahime. Satoru tensed as memory hit. They’d been arguing, then . . .
“Utahime?”
She didn’t answer. Satoru’s eyes shot open. He grunted against the way pain flared in his head, activating his reverse cursed technique to impatiently heal up the damage. Had Utahime hit him in the head?
The first thing that met his eyes was Utahime, lying on the forest floor, face covered in blood. Satoru sucked in a breath, the emotion that filled his chest too close to something irreversible.
“Utahime!”
He caught her chest rising and the panic eased a little. He pushed her bangs back. The damage seemed to be limited to her cheek, blood flowing down her neck and staining her kosode.
“Utahime, wake up,” he urged. She didn’t move, and Satoru bit his tongue against the panic flooding his lungs. With practiced hands, he checked her over for other injury, relieved to find no other wounds that he could see.
“What, one little cut and you pass out? Sheesh, senpai, you’re supposed to be the professional now.” Satoru hated that he couldn’t stop running his mouth when he was nervous. He collected her carefully. He felt her warm figure curl against his Infinity and pushed down a strange urge to drop his barrier. She was like a little teddy bear.
“Don’t worry, senpai. Your strong kouhai will take care of you.”
He glanced around. The cursed energy around them was tempting to hunt down, but he didn’t want to risk Utahime. He teleported directly to the infirmary. Shoko was training with the old medic, and immediately took charge.
“Utahime’s hurt? Put her down on this bed. What happened?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
Satoru cringed under Shoko’s sharp look, but she was too focused on Utahime to say anything, activating her reverse cursed technique. Satoru waited for the usual healing glow.
“What . . ?” Shoko hissed.
Cold trickled down his spine. Satoru stepped forward, too harsh in whatever emotion was filling him. “Shoko, why aren’t you healing her?”
“I can’t! There’s something stopping me. Is it . . . What kind of curse did this?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Shoko pressed gauze against Utahime’s still-bleeding face. “Weren’t you there?”
Before he could answer, Utahime woke up. Satoru breathed in relief as her lovely brown eyes blinked open, breath catching on a slight moan of pain.
“Wha—“ she reached for her face.
“Don’t touch it, senpai.”
“Shoko? Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me, Utahime what do you mean?”
Six Eyes was trying to figure out what was off, and the feeling in Satoru’s gut was coalescing into something solid and terrible.
“I’m blind.”
For a moment, both of them were silent, staring at their senpai.
Utahime’s hand flitted back up towards her wound. Satoru reached over unthinkingly, grasping her wrist and holding it away from her face.
“Blind?” Shoko asked.
“The curse user . . . That was the price.”
Satoru reached with his free hand, waving his hand in front of Utahime’s eyes. No blink or flinch.
“A curse user?” Shoko reached over to her tools of her trade, grasping a small flashlight and shining it in Utahime’s eyes without any response. “I need to go get my mentor, hang on.”
“Gojo, are you okay?”
“Am I . . .” Satoru closed his eyes. “Utahime, what happened? I was knocked out, and then . . .”
“A curse user was defending her home. Her price was my eyesight.”
“Why didn’t she kill us?”
Utahime’s shrug was so casual. “It must have been a part of her technique. She didn’t want to hurt us, I don’t think.”
Shoko returned, the medic pushing both of them away to examine Utahime and properly wrap the wound on her face. Shoko reached over, trying to grab Satoru’s sleeve but encountering his Infinity.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded.
“I got knocked out,” Satoru said, throat thick. He tried to clear it, but it didn’t do anything. “I don’t know what happened.”
Shoko’s face was a rictus of anger. “You? Knocked out? Well, whatever happened, you’ve got to fix it!”
“I’ll track down the curse user and kill them,” Satoru said. “I just need to talk to Utahime, first.”
“Right.”
“She’s asking for you both,” the medic said. “I’ve done what I can.”
Utahime looked too small on the infirmary cot. Satoru flexed his hands, open and closed.
“Utahime.” Shoko’s voice was as gentle as Satoru had ever heard it. “How are you feeling?”
“A little lost, I suppose.” Utahime’s smile was a small, shaky thing, but Satoru felt a sudden hate at how real it was. “Do you think my contract covers a disability like this for a year?”
“A year?” Satoru repeated.
She bobbed her head in a nod and winced, hand reaching up to touch the edge of the bandages now covering her face. “That’s how long she said. At least I can’t see myself in the mirror for the year.”
Her acceptance sparked a rage in Satoru’s chest. None of the dots were connecting into a clear picture, and Utahime acting like nothing was wrong, He whirled, knowing that if he stayed, violence would occur. He knew what he had to do.
The forest was exactly how he’d left it. Satoru’s lip curled in a sneer. The curse user hadn’t even been smart enough to flee.
“Show yourself!” he demanded.
He hadn’t expected an old woman, covered in eyes. Six Eyes examined her carefully, but her energy signature didn’t seem connected to his own technique.
“I expected you.”
Satoru activated a swirl of cursed energy, powerful enough to level the surrounding forest for miles. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t decimate you,” he growled.
“Are you sure that you won’t cement my curse, if I die?” The woman smiled. “It is only one year for your friend. Are you willing to risk that?”
“Your technique should die with you,” Satoru said. But the seed of doubt was in his brain, taking root.
“Ritual curses are risky little things, aren’t they?” Her smile was serene, and took on an edge of malevolence. “I knew it would have been smarter to curse you. The girl wouldn’t’ve caused such trouble. But she felt so responsible.”
Satoru swallowed against rising nausea. “Responsible?”
“She insisted as your senpai, it should be her.”
Satoru reabsorbed his cursed energy.
“If you’re lying,” he said softly, “at one year. If Utahime can’t see again, I will find you again, and you will regret ever touching her.”