Chapter Text
The city lay under a pristine blanket of snow, the kind that seems to absorb all sound and color, leaving only a hushed white expanse throughout the city of Kyoto. It was February 18th, the day Iori Utahime was born. Despite the biting chill that permeated the air, a radiant warmth filled the Iori household.
After years of anticipation, a child – a girl – had finally been born to Iori Naruko and Iori Sakira. While any birth is a cause for celebration, Utahime's arrival carried a weight that extended far beyond the confines of their home. The Jujutsu higher-ups, those shadowy figures who held the reins of power within the sorcerer world, had awaited her birth with an almost desperate eagerness. Like watchmen desperately finding signs of light in a stormy sea, they regarded this offspring as another asset.
If she was born a few decades earlier, her birth would have been uneventful.
The Iori clan was not one sought for battle or for alliances. Although they were known for their strong connection to the deities, they were not known for their combat prowess or powerful cursed techniques. Instead, their strength lay in their ability to commune with the divine, a unique skill that had earned them the protection of the mightier families. Clans don’t dare offend the Ioris because they have the gods on their side.
Still, they were not viewed as powerful sorcerers in the Jujutsu world.
This all changed with the rise of Iori Naruko, the new clan leader. His cursed technique, the ability to foresee an opponent's next seven moves, had sent ripples of shock and awe through the Jujutsu world. Though he lacked physical strength, Naruko's strategic mind and uncanny precognitive abilities made him a formidable opponent to anyone who crossed his way. He never entered a battle unprepared, his every counter perfectly tailored to dismantle his enemy's strategy.
The Iori clan's position was further solidified when Naruko married Iori Sakira, his third cousin. Sakira has been known for the coveted Soro Soro Kinku technique, a powerful ability that amplifies the cursed energy of others. Their union was more than just a marriage; it was a strategic alliance that created an unstoppable force. Naruko, the seer, and Sakira, the amplifier, were the linchpins of countless victories, their combined strength ensuring triumph for whichever side they supported.
So when the news of Sakira's pregnancy reached the higher-ups, it ignited a burning curiosity about the child she carried. The potential of a sorcerer inheriting either Naruko's precognitive abilities or Sakira's amplification technique was too significant to ignore.
One evening, Naruko found himself summoned to the dimly lit chamber where the higher-ups convened. He would come to this room often in the past, not as the center of the conversation, but a strategist on the side, observing conversations.
With him now facing the higher-ups, the air crackled with anticipation, the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on him. He knew they were eager to learn the gender of his child, to assess the potential power they would wield.
"Iori Naruko," a voice resonated through the chamber, belonging to a respected elder of the Kamo clan, "we have heard of your wife's pregnancy. Is it true?"
"Yes, master," Naruko replied, "She is well into her sixth month."
Whispers rippled through the room as Naruko confirmed the news. He could almost taste their eagerness. The old leechers desire to mold his unborn child's destiny to their advantage.
"And do you know if your wife is bearing a boy or a lass?" a drawling voice inquired, the unmistakable accent of a Zen'in clan member.
"A girl, master," Naruko responded, already, there’s a flicker of defiance in his eyes.
The whispers intensified, confirming his suspicions. His daughter, even before her birth, had become a potential pawn in their game of power. A wave of protectiveness washed over him as a father-to-be.
"Perhaps it's time to discuss the conditions, Naruko," the Zen'in man interjected.
"Forgive me, master," Naruko replied, feigning ignorance, "but I do not understand."
A deeper, more commanding voice boomed through the chamber. It was Kamo Hatashi, the head of the higher-ups.
"Naruko," he began, "you and Sakira possess a unique combination of abilities, invaluable to the Jujutsu world. Your union has proven that strategic alliances can yield immense power."
Naruko remained silent, acutely aware of the unspoken expectations hanging in the air.
"Your daughter," Kamo Hatashi continued, his voice laced with an almost predatory eagerness, "will inherit either your technique or Sakira's. Regardless, she will be an asset. We have witnessed the fear your combined powers instill in our enemies. We expect no less from your daughter."
Naruko's silence stretched. He was hoping his silence emanated the rebellion already forming in him..
"Therefore, Naruko," Kamo Hatashi declared, "we want to make it clear that when the time comes for your daughter to be betrothed, she must only marry a man whose powers complement her own, ensuring their combined strength serves the Jujutsu society and its ideals."
Naruko's head snapped up, his shock and disbelief casting his caution to the side. They dared to dictate his daughter's future, to control her life before she even took her first breath?
"Master," he challenged, "I do not understand. Why can't my daughter be afforded the freedom to choose her own partner?"
A palpable shift in the atmosphere followed his outburst. The shadows seemed to deepen, their disapproval evident.
"Iori-san," a voice chided, "your daughter's power in the wrong hands could jeopardize the entire Jujutsu society. Can you, a loyal servant of Jujutsu, bear the responsibility of such a catastrophe?"
Naruko's defiance crumbled under the weight of their veiled threat. "I understand, master," he conceded, the realization that his daughter's fate was already intertwined with the whims of the higher-ups settling heavily upon him.
—
Two years later, Utahime, dressed in a red floral kimono, was brought before the council of higher-ups. Her wide, honey-brown eyes, devoid of fear, took in the dimly lit chamber, her innate curiosity outweighing any trepidation.
They had initially intended to name her Yuki, in honor of the snowy day she was born. However, Sakira insisted on a name that reflected her daughter's sweet singing voice and gentle nature. Utahime, "song princess," a name that hinted at the soothing melody that seemed to emanate from her very being.
She was already growing up to be a beauty. Her eyes are just like the eyes of the Iori matriarchs that came before her – a stunning combination of brown and gold. Her eyes bore her innocence, too. She was completely unaware why she was in such a grim room.
Naruko watched as she was placed in the center of the room, her small form illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
"Her cursed energy is strong, even for her age, Naruko," remarked a petite man seated on the far right, his gaze fixated on Utahime.
They didn’t see how a delight she was in her kimono, or how her brown eyes smiled at the shadows. They immediately focused on her cursed energy.
Leechers.
"Do you know which cursed technique she has inherited?" another inquired.
"None, master," Naruko replied. "My own manifested at eight, and Sakira's at ten." He couldn't help but scoff internally. Did they truly expect a two-year-old to exhibit such complex abilities?
"Ah, so we have a few more years to determine her technique," a voice mused. "That buys us some time, doesn't it?"
Naruko remained silent, unsure of the implications behind their words.
"Kamo-sama," an older woman's voice interjected, "while we await the manifestation of her technique, it would be prudent to inform Iori-kun of the current circumstances."
The central figure, the one who commanded the most authority, cleared his throat, drawing Utahime's attention away from the dancing candle flames.
"Naruko," he began, "you are aware of the recent birth within the Gojo clan, are you not?"
Naruko nodded, his gaze shifting between Utahime and the imposing figures surrounding them.
"Yes, master," he confirmed.
"Good. You are also aware of the significance of this birth, the shift in power it represents within the Jujutsu world. The Gojo clan now boasts the Six Eyes, a power that could disrupt the delicate balance we have maintained for centuries."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
"The Gojo clan has always been favored by the deities," the booming voice continued. "They possess an innate prowess in sorcery that surpasses that of ordinary sorcerers. Their history is riddled with rebellions and power struggles. They are a dangerous clan..."
Naruko, unable to contain his concern any longer, interrupted.
"But master," he pleaded, pulling Utahime closer, "what does this have to do with my Utahime?"
The central figure rose from his seat, a gesture that signaled the gravity of the situation. Utahime felt the change in the energy herself, as she scrambled towards her father, eager for him to hold her.
"Naruko-kun," he stated, his voice laced with warning, "our cursed techniques must never be used to support evil. Therefore, we implore you to instill in your daughter the importance of never forming any alliance with the Gojo heir."
He paused, letting his words sink in. Even at two, the reins to Utahime’s life has been slowly but firmly snatched by the higher ups. And as her father is caught between protecting her and his entire clan, he can only keep himself mum.
"A union between Utahime Iori and the Gojo heir would be a grave offense, a display of greed that would displease the deities."
—
Eleven years passed. Spring had arrived, bringing with it a sense of renewal and growth. It was on a bright, clear day that Utahime finally discovered her inherited technique.
Under the watchful eye of her mother, she practiced the intricate steps of the Soro Soro Kinku ritual. Her movements were still a bit clumsy, but Sakira reassured her, reminding her that precision was more important than perfection.
With each step, each hand sign, Utahime chanted the incantation in her mind.
Step 1, step 2, hand sign 1.
Step 1, step 2, hand wave 1.
Step 1, step 2, hand sign 3.
As she completed the ritual, a golden aura enveloped her, a tangible manifestation of her cursed energy. Sakira recognized it instantly – the Soro Soro Kinku, the power to amplify cursed energy.
It only took a few seconds of power surge for her mother to rise up and run.
"Naruko!" Sakira exclaimed, rushing to find her husband. "Her technique has been revealed!"
Naruko steps out of his office to meet his wife's gaze, searching for answers in her excited eyes.
"Soro Soro Kinku," she breathed. "It's Soro Soro Kinku, Naruko!"
At that moment, Naruko knew that Utahime's life would never be the same. She was no longer just their daughter, their precious little girl. She was now a valuable asset in the eyes of the Jujutsu world, her destiny irrevocably intertwined with the power she wielded.
—
A year later, at the age of twelve, Utahime found herself standing before the council of higher-ups. This time, she was not a mere observer but the focal point of their attention.
The oppressive atmosphere of the chamber, with its heavy shadows and clashing energies, made her uneasy. She longed for the comfort of her father's presence, for the reassurance of his smile.
"Utahime Iori," a voice boomed, devoid of warmth or welcome. "We can now see you."
Utahime bowed respectfully, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Utahime Iori," the central figure began, "now that your cursed technique has manifested, it is time we revealed the purpose of this summons."
Utahime shifted nervously. It had been a year since her power emerged, a year spent honing her abilities under her mother's guidance. She felt a sense of pride in inheriting the Soro Soro Kinku, the technique that had made her mother such a revered figure.
"You have been diligently training, Iori-san?" an older woman inquired, her voice gentler than the others.
"Yes, esteemed one," Utahime replied. "My mother and I have been training every day since my technique manifested."
Murmurs of approval echoed through the chamber.
"And have you witnessed the true extent of your power?" another voice asked.
Utahime hesitated. She had felt the surge of amplified energy when she boosted her parents' techniques, but she had yet to experience its full potential.
"My apologies, my lady," she admitted. "I have not. I have only used it to amplify my father's technique."
She could sense her father's anxiety from behind her, his desire to appease the higher-ups palpable.
"I see," the voice continued. "It will take time and experience for you to fully grasp your power. However, now that you have a glimpse of its potential, we must address a matter of great importance."
Utahime's grip tightened on her kimono. She had heard whispers about the higher-ups, their god-like status within the Jujutsu world. Their word was law, their decisions absolute.
What could they possibly want from her?
"Iori Utahime," the central figure declared, "we are here to discuss your marriage."
Before Utahime could react, her father stepped forward, his voice laced with panic.
"Masters," he pleaded, "this was not part of our agreement. My wife and I must—"
"Silence, Iori!" the senior higher-up thundered, silencing Naruko's protest.
Marriage. They were already discussing her marriage? Utahime's mind reeled. She was only twelve, a child with no thoughts of romance or marriage.
"Iori Utahime," the voice commanded, "listen carefully."
Utahime's attention snapped back to the figure in the center.
"You have witnessed how your mother amplifies your father's cursed technique, correct?"
She nodded, confused and apprehensive.
"Your parents' marriage is one of love, that we acknowledge," the voice continued. "However, it is also a strategic alliance that has benefited Jujutsu society greatly. When you marry a compatible sorcerer, your contribution to our world will be immeasurable. You will ensure victory, quell even the strongest opponents."
"Conversely," the voice warned, "if you ally yourself with someone driven by malicious intent, the consequences could be devastating. You could become a harbinger of destruction, responsible for countless deaths and suffering."
Utahime's head spun. She, a child who cherished kindness and compassion, could cause such devastation? The thought was unbearable.
"If your power falls into the wrong hands, tragedy will follow. Do you understand, Iori Utahime?"
Utahime's silence stretched, her mind grappling with the implications of their words. Did this mean her life was no longer her own?
"Utahime, Utahime, please answer," her father's voice urged, snapping her back to the present.
"Understood, masters," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
"Very well," the central figure continued. "Naruko, have you informed your daughter of the situation with the Gojo clan?"
Naruko stepped closer to Utahime, his voice regaining its composure.
"Yes, master," he confirmed. "The Six Eyes have been reborn into their clan."
"Indeed. Gojo Satoru."
The mere mention of the name sent a ripple of unease through the room.
"The child with the Six Eyes and Limitless is now under the Gojo clan's control," the icy voice explained. "And we know they will stop at nothing to achieve their ambitions."
"Naruko," the voice commanded, "we want to make this unequivocally clear. Either we or you will decide who Utahime marries. But one thing is certain: she must never marry Gojo Satoru."
Gojo Satoru. The name echoed in Utahime's mind, a name now inextricably linked to her own. Why were they so adamant about keeping them apart? Who was this boy and why are they – together – a curse?
"Never marry her to Gojo Satoru," the voice repeated, the finality in their tone leaving no room for argument.
Her father bowed, and they were dismissed. As they left the chamber, Utahime couldn't shake the feeling that her fate had been sealed, her future irrevocably tied to the whims of the higher-ups and the name Gojo Satoru, a name she barely knew but would forever be bound to.
—-----
Iori Utahime, at seventeen, found herself on the precipice of adulthood, poised to enter the intricate world of Jujutsu sorcery. She was part of the invitation to a traditional wedding between two esteemed sorcerer families. The daughter, she learned, was from the Kamo clan. She was told that celebrations like this was something her parents, Iori Naruko and Iori Sakira, had once only observed from the periphery when they were kids.
"Things have changed, Utahime," her mother, Sakira, had explained, her voice filled with a quiet pride. "Our clan is now recognized as one of the most powerful. Our presence at such events is not just expected, it's essential."
Of course, Utahime understood the source of their newfound prominence. She'd witnessed her parents' combined strength firsthand. The dazzling golden aura of their intertwined cursed energies is a testament to their formidable power. She – a mere observer – sometimes have to step out because of how they can create such an intense combination of energies. She news that as long as they stood together, the Iori clan would be revered. And with her birth, inheriting her mother's coveted Soro Soro Kinku technique, the clan's position had been further cemented: they were indispensable. The current power their clan holds has increased heir influence and wealth exponentially.
So, when Akari, her devoted maidservant, presented her with an array of exquisite kimonos for the wedding, Utahime felt no surprise. Ostentatious displays of wealth were commonplace among the sorcerer families. She learned early on that it was a way to assert dominance and prestige.
"Iori-sama, have you made your choice?" Akari inquired, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Utahime gently touched a pink silk kimono, its delicate fabric adorned with gold-embossed flowers. "Mother always says pink complements me. What do you think, Akari?"
"An excellent choice, Iori-sama," Akari affirmed. "I'll find the perfect hair ornaments and jewelry to complete the ensemble."
Utahime smiled, grateful for Akari's impeccable taste. With her days consumed by rigorous training, mastering her inherited technique, and getting acquainted with ancient Jujutsu texts, she had little time for such frivolous concerns. Akari's presence was a blessing, a reminder that she can also get a taste of normalcy.
Hours later, as Utahime and her parents journeyed to the wedding, her father, Naruko, broke the comfortable silence. "Utahime," he began, his voice warm with affection, "have I told you how beautiful you've become?"
"And yesterday, I was even more beautiful than the day before, right Father?" Utahime teased, a playful glint in her eyes.
Naruko chuckled. "Indeed you were."
Sakira, ever attentive, adjusted a stray strand of Utahime's hair. "My dear girl, you are radiant. I must caution Akari against such stunning creations, or we'll have suitors lining up at our doorstep before you even reach Jujutsu High."
The mention of suitors cast a momentary shadow over Utahime's spirits. It brought to mind the restrictive decrees of the higher-ups and their insistence on controlling her future. She remembered once more how they have power in dictating her alliances and relationships. While she understood their desire to protect the delicate balance of the Jujutsu world, their interference chafed against her independent spirit.
Despite the watchful eyes of her parents and the higher-ups, Utahime had managed to carve out small pockets of rebellion in her life.
With Akari's help, she'd sneak out to experience the vibrant city nightlife, braving the crowds at bustling arcades and belting out her favorite songs in karaoke bars (though she always politely declined the sugary drinks – she loathed anything overly sweet).
She smiles as she remembers him. Her new friend. She'd forged a secret friendship with a young sorcerer from a lesser clan, a boy Akari knows from her village. Their meetings were carefully orchestrated by Akari, few and far between, and stolen moments in hidden corners of the city. She was impressed by his freedom. They'd exchange notes written in code, share whispered secrets, and dream of a world where their friendship wouldn't be considered a threat. He was undeniably strong, too, she noted. He was younger than her, but he was strong. He told her how he can see curses and even consume them. It baffled her the first time she heard it. How could the gods allow a boy to have a technique that allowed him to consume those bone-rotting curses?
He also told her he will be attending Jujutsu High soon. They will finally be free to be friends there.
The prospect of attending Jujutsu High filled Utahime with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She yearned to test her abilities against other skilled sorcerers, to see and claim her strength as her own, and prove her worth. Yet, she also feared the increased scrutiny, and the ever-present pressure to conform to the expectations of her lineage and the higher-ups.
Lost in her thoughts, Utahime barely registered their arrival at the wedding venue, a sprawling traditional estate known as a minka. The Kamo clan had spared no expense, transforming the grounds into a breathtaking spectacle. Lanterns cast a soft glow upon meticulously manicured gardens, where cherry blossom trees stood in full bloom, their delicate petals raining down like confetti. Inside, the halls were adorned with elaborate flower arrangements, vibrant tapestries, and shimmering gold accents, creating an atmosphere of opulence and grandeur.
Ushered into a private waiting room, Utahime and her parents were instructed to await their turn in the procession. She knew the protocol: the "Big Three" sorcerer families – the Gojo, Kamo, and Zen'in clans – would be the first to enter, followed by the other esteemed families.
"Think they'll serve those savory dumplings?" she whispered to her father, wrinkling her nose at the thought of sugary treats.
"Definitely," Naruko whispered back. "And maybe even some of those seaweed crackers."
"Ooh, with the spicy dipping sauce?" Utahime's eyes lit up.
Sakira chuckled. "You and your savory snacks, Utahime. Try to act dignified, okay? We're Ioris, after all."
Finally, it was their turn. Utahime smoothed down her kimono, head held high, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside her.
The Zen’ins and the Kamos are already inside. And so are the Gojos.
Will he be there? Will she finally be able to put a face to the name she’s known for years?
The doors slid open, and she was met with a sea of faces. But she wasn't interested in the stern Zen'ins or the celebratory Kamos. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for him. Gojo Satoru. The boy with the legendary Six Eyes and Limitless power. The one they warned her about, the one they forbade her from even thinking about.
And there he was. He stood out like a beacon, younger than she expected, with a shock of unruly white hair and an aura of untamed power that seemed to crackle around him. Her rebellious side prevailed, she intentionally looked at him.
The moment their eyes met, his eyes truly captivated her – those incredible blue eyes, radiating an almost ethereal glow, that seemed to hold a universe within them. When their gazes finally collided across the crowded hall, time seemed to stop. It wasn't just a meeting of eyes; it was a recognition, a sense of familiarity as if they'd known each other forever. Gojo Satoru’s eyes seemed to also be looking for her.
A recognition.
A meeting.
An introduction.
A moment of finally seeing the face they’ve been wondering about for years.
A jolt of undeniable and potent energy pulsed between them, drawing gasps from those around them. It was as if he, too, had been searching for her, their destinies intertwined by an invisible thread.
The surge of power didn’t leave unnoticed by her parents or the higher-ups. An exchange of looks proved this was not just something they will forget.
Utahime's heart pounded in her chest. At that moment, she knew. This Gojo Satoru, the forbidden one, the one they tried to keep her away from...he was going to change everything. He was going to change her.
—
The air hung heavy with the scent of jasmine and the murmur of polite conversation, but even at seventeen, Utahime felt suffocated by the forced gaiety of the wedding. Each meaningless exchange, each plastered-on smile, grated on her nerves. She was surrounded by people, recognized even, yet utterly alone. Slipping away into the quiet sanctuary of the garden, Utahime sought refuge not just from the noise and the cloying sense of not belonging, but from the weight of a certain pair of eyes that she could feel following her every move.
He was here, wasn't he? Gojo Satoru. The prodigy. The boy who made her skin prickle with an unfamiliar energy even from across a crowded room.
In the stillness of the garden, she finally allowed herself to acknowledge the pull she felt towards him, a connection that crackled with unseen energy. Just the thought of their eyes meeting sent a shiver down her spine. If a mere glance could elicit such a response, what would happen if they truly engaged? The elders' warnings echoed in her mind - dangerous, dangerous, dangerous . Were they right to fear what they might become together? A power like theirs, unrestrained, untamed… could it consume them both?
Lost in her thoughts, Utahime didn't register the approaching footsteps, only the sudden surge of cursed energy that washed over her like a tidal wave. Turning, she found him standing there, bathed in moonlight. Gojo Satoru. Impossibly tall, impossibly intense, his eyes glowing with an almost eerie light in the darkness.
"Ahh, so you can sense my cursed energy too," he observed, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Utahime averted her gaze, a blush warming her cheeks. "Good evening, Gojo-kun."
His laughter, low and melodic, sent a tremor through her. Was he mocking her? Finding her amusing?
"Come on, Utahime," he chided, taking a step closer. "We've known each other's names for years now. You can drop the formalities."
The casual use of her given name sent a jolt of indignation through her. "My apologies, Gojo-kun, but we have only just met. Such informality is inappropriate. Allow me to—"
"Come on, Utahime." He cut her off, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"It's Utahime-senpai to you, Gojo-kun," she insisted, trying to maintain her composure.
"You're only two years older than me," he scoffed.
"Senpai is still necessary for propriety," she retorted, her voice laced with a hint of steel.
"To hell with propriety," he declared, his eyes locking with hers.
Utahime finally met his gaze, startled by the sheer audacity in those brilliant blue eyes. Was this arrogance born from his immense power? He was a stark contrast to the one other boy she'd ever spoken to – a kind, gentle soul who treated her with respect.
"Unlike you, Gojo-kun, who seems to believe he can disregard propriety, I value it. I respect it," she stated, her voice trembling slightly despite her efforts to remain calm. She knew better than to provoke him. He was simply too powerful.
"Ahh, just like how you thrive on and respect the higher-ups' control over you?" he countered, his smirk widening.
Utahime's eyes narrowed. What did he know about her agreement with the elders?
"I expected more from you, Utahime," he continued, his voice laced with disappointment. "The daughter of two revered sorcerers… I thought you'd have more backbone. I thought you'd fight back. But here you are… so obedient."
Utahime's jaw clenched, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth as she bit down hard on her lip. "You have no idea what kind of agreement I have with the higher-ups, Gojo-kun."
He laughed again, raising his hands in mock surrender. It was then that she noticed the markings on his arms. Tattoos. Tattoos on a child! What kind of clan did he belong to? What kind of child was he?
"Ahh, I see you've caught sight of my tattoos," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Let me indulge you." He nonchalantly rolled up his sleeves, revealing more of the intricate designs.
"Why do you have those? You're just a child!" Utahime exclaimed, unable to contain her surprise.
"Because unlike you, Utahime, I can do whatever I want," he replied with a shrug. "If I want to get tattoos, I get tattoos. They're pretty cool, right? Beautiful. Imagine the kind of beauty you could have if you weren't so bound by rules, Utahime."
"You don't know about my—"
"I know, Utahime," he interrupted, his voice suddenly serious. "The higher-ups want you to stay the hell away from me. You know why? They're terrified of us. Terrified of what we can do."
He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over her. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through Utahime's resolve.
"Because we can do this…" He reached out, his fingers closing around her wrist.
A jolt of energy surged through her, leaving her breathless. She could see it reflected in his eyes too, a recognition of the power that flowed between them. It was like two halves finally coming together, completing a circuit. They amplified each other, their cursed energy intertwining like the intricate patterns on his skin.
The intensity of the connection frightened her. Utahime wrenched her hand away, her heart pounding in her chest.
"You felt that, Utahime?" Gojo asked, his voice a low purr. "And you're scared?"
"You're a brat!" she retorted, her voice shaking. "How dare you do that?"
"Ahh, you're scared," he chuckled. "I never thought you'd be so weak."
Weak. The word stung. No one had ever called her weak before. But coming from him, from the strongest sorcerer of their generation, it felt like a blow to her very core.
She glared at him, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Listen to me, Gojo. I am not as weak as you think I am. I may be weak in your eyes, but you will never, EVER see me grovel for your strength."
With that, she turned and fled, his intense blue eyes burning into her back. She didn’t care if he thought poorly of her. She will remember him forever – a young brat she’ll never, ever make an alliance with.