stunted

The doors to the medical bay burst open.

"What is going on here?!"

Utahime, startling hard enough to momentarily stop screaming and throwing things, looked at the newcomer barging through the examination room toward the office. She blinked, unsure if she was seeing things correctly. Spikier hair and glasses, but not much different than she last saw him at all. "S-sensei?"

Yaga looked around the room. When his eyes landed on Gojo, he heaved a large sigh. "Should've known it was you."

"Me? I just got here!" Gojo held his hands up, feigning innocence. The books and scrolls stuck in his Infinity dropped to the floor with a clatter. "I forgot how excitable this one could get. It's not my fault she's like this!"

"Don't blame her for your poor behavior, Satoru. Couldn't you come and go a little quieter? Do you need to cause a scene every time?"

Gojo only smiled. "Aw, did I get your heart rate going? Could be good for a man your age. Looking a little—"

He patted his lower midsection, where Yaga was carrying a little more bulk than she remembered him having, if Utahime was being honest.

Her old sensei put his finger right in Gojo's face. "Watch it, brat."

Utahime took the opportunity while they were occupied with each other (read: while Yaga was reprimanding Gojo and Gojo was antagonizing Yaga in return) to hide behind Shoko. She couldn't believe it. There was no possible way.

Well, there was one.

There goes my time travel theory, she thought to herself. Because this had to count as a large enough deviation to be considered an alternate reality.

There was simply no other way she, Utahime Iori, would ever marry a bastard like Satoru Gojo.

And he was just as obnoxious as ever, Satoru Gojo. She snuck a peak from behind Shoko's shaking shoulders (she'd deal with her later). He was still unnecessarily tall and still kept his eyes covered, still wore the school uniform even as an adult, still wore that same shade of lip gloss he always used to steal from Shoko. But the top half of his face was covered with a blindfold, a cursed tool to suppress his Six Eyes as far as she could tell. It pushed his snow white hair up in a ridiculous, gravity-defying style. His features were sharper, more angular. Gone was the last bit of roundness of youth that he struggled to shake off at 16. And something about him seemed…bigger. Not just physically, but as far as his presence went. He felt massive.

It might've been his cursed energy. It had always been stronger than most, but now? As an adult?

Satoru Gojo truly felt limitless.

Utahime let out a groan of frustration, dropping her head to the space between Shoko's shoulder blades. "How could you?" she whined, voice barely above a whisper. "You lied to me, Shoko."

She looked over her head, a wide grin stretching across her face. "I did not. Everything I've told you since we stepped foot in this office was the truth."

Utahime lifted her head just enough to give her the stink eye. "You'd never marry a real dud, Utahime," she whispered, voice dripping with a caustic mocking tone. "I'd never let you be unhappy, Utahime. Then explain this!"

"I said your husband wasn't some fossil that you shared with a harem of other women," Shoko laughed, "and that I supported your happiness when you chose him all on your own."

"Lies!" she hissed. There was no way. Absolutely no way she'd ever choose this!

Shoko opened her mouth to respond, but Gojo took that moment to warp right in front of Utahime's face. "What are you girls whispering about all the way over here by yourselves?"

At some point when she wasn't watching he took off his blindfold, causing his hair to flop down in the style she was more used to and exposing her to his brilliant, glowing eyes. It startled Utahime so much that she screamed again, wrapping her arms around Shoko's neck like she'd get away if she could just merge into her best friend, damn near scrambling up the length her body. Shoko outright cackled, dropping everything she was holding to catch Utahime.

Yaga marched forward and yanked Gojo back by the collar of his uniform when he started screaming with her, effectively cutting him off by temporarily choking him. "Will you two stop?" He maneuvered Gojo into a nelson hold, locking his arms tighter when the younger boy (man?) began to thrash. "Now what's this all about? What did you do to her?"

"Why's it gotta be me who did something to her?" Gojo whined. "She's the older one, you should be yelling at her to act her age, not me!"

Utahime bristled. "Excuse me? You little—"

"Exactly, see! I'm too young to be held responsible, even she acknowledges it. Sensei, please redirect your ire to the parties that truly deser—ah!"

Any other time, Utahime would be laughing at the way Gojo let Yaga hurt him. As a sorcerer, he was peerless. With the exception of Geto, no one alive could keep up with him, stand next to him. But he always had a soft spot for Yaga that almost bordered on paternal, allowing the man to physically manhandle and discipline him whenever Yaga saw fit. And when cursed energy and technique were out of the picture, the fact was that Yaga was larger and stronger, making Gojo an easy target to wrestle and throw around.

But there was nothing funny about this at all. Utahime was in an alternate reality with no idea how to get home, a reality where Shoko had let her marry…that. And if she wasn't lying, she'd chosen to marry…that.

Was there literally no one else at the time? Was Nanami-san too young for her when this happened? Had she been desperate? Had she been coerced?

She pushed back the reminder that at some point, her face had been gruesomely flayed open. She tucked that away for later consideration, reminding herself to ask Shoko about the details surrounding that.

A wicked thought bloomed into Utahime's mind. If he was here, then did that mean she would have to go home with him? Her mind went back to how he held her, pulled her against his body, kissed her neck. Would he want to do more? If he'd been gone a long time, would he want to…to…

It is a woman's duty as a companion or wife to please her lord, her grandmother often told her and her cousins. You will not be shrine maidens forever. One day, you will marry or be given as a gift to a clan elder. Whoever they choose you for will expect to have access to you for his own reasons — and yes, even his own pleasure — as often as possible.

The lessons she'd grown up with about appeasing the man she'd be given to, serving him, relaxing him flooded her brain. Her grandmother had said that men who worked long, hard hours often wound up in a mood, and it would be their responsibility to give them peace, make them feel satisfied and at ease when they came home, so they wouldn't take that mood out on the rest of the house.

She always thought of that as bullshit, but just the thought of satisfying Gojo after his business trip made her feel like throwing up.

He was currently bent over, body contorted in almost unnatural angles that looked like they should hurt terribly. But Gojo, the freak that he was, just laughed as if he were having great fun.

"I thought there was an emergency, not…whatever this is that you're doing!" Yaga scolded.

"It's a mating ritual to increase fertility…hm, yes, I think it's working." Gojo twisted his head in a way that reminded her of an owl, all to catch her eye. "At least for me it is. How about you, baby?"

Utahime full body shuddered. "Shoko," she whimpered, turning to curl deeper into her best friend's embrace.

"Oi, you crying, Hime? I'm here now, I'll comfort you!"

Utahime shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut even harder. Please leave me alone, she thought in her head, as if she could think it hard enough to make it come true. Please do something, anything, other than come any closer.

Utahime could've cried when the doors to the medical bay opened again. She neglected her duties as a shrine maiden often enough, but every now and then she remembered that she was supposedly among those closest to the gods.

She'd visit home and pray the first chance she got.

"Mm, Fushiguro-kun?" Shoko asked. "You're back?"

Utahime watched as the disinterested-looking boy took in the scene with what she came to expect was his usual nonchalance: Yaga twisting Gojo into unnatural shapes, Shoko all but carrying Utahime. He didn't remark on any of it. He didn't even blink an eye. Was it that normal of a sight to him?

"I think you gave me pineapple instead of mango," he said simply, "and I ran out of antihistamines."

"Sorry about that. You know where they are, right?"

As Fushiguro went back into the examination room and rifled around the cabinets, Yaga finally let a struggling Gojo go. The momentum behind the sudden release led to Gojo comically sliding across the floor, ass in the air as he skidded to a stop.

"Brat," Yaga said, kicking him squarely in said ass.

Gojo pouted as he pulled himself up. "I don't get it. I rush home after three long weeks away, and this is my reception?" He turned his head toward the office doors. "My kids would never treat me this way."

And before anyone could say anything, he wandered out of the office. No one was shocked, not even Utahime, when the sounds of Fushiguro's outrage could be heard through the walls as Gojo messed with him.

Utahime was just relaxing, trying to gather her wits about her, when Yaga-sensei walked up to her. She braced herself for the same strange concern everyone else had been giving her all day.

He didn't disappoint. "How are you feeling? I'm surprised you're back already."

She racked her mind for something to say that the curse wouldn't object to. "Um, Shoko and I wanted to do some research? So we came back early, if that's okay."

A large, warm hand settled on the top of her head. It made Utahime smile, how even now Yaga could treat her — a supposedly grown, married woman in her thirties — like a child. Which she supposed she was, at least to him, and maybe always would be.

"Don't overexert yourself," he said in a much softer voice than he used with Gojo. "Focus on recovery and wellness. It'll happen in due time."

A deep feeling ran through Utahime at those words. It was as if her body was reacting based on how her counterpart, the Utahime this body actually belonged to, would react. It was weird, feeling such an intensely complicated feeling that didn't truly belong to her.

But she nodded anyway. "Thank you, sensei."

Yaga nodded, turning to Shoko. "You got what you needed from the archives?"

"Yeah," she nodded, resigned to her fate of holding Utahime. She shifted so that she could lean the bulk of their weight against the desk. "You can go ahead and close them for now. Can I take these records home?"

Utahime listened to their conversation, but something wasn't fully adding up. As far as she knew, the only people who could access and give access to the archives on either campus were the principals of each campus. But Yaga-sensei was just a second year teacher, wasn't he?

"How's work on the docket going, Utahime?" Yaga asked, breaking her away from her thoughts.

"Right, the docket…"

"No pressure. I know before all this happened, you were excited to show me what you and that Muta kid were cooking up. Is it coming along the way you envisioned?"

Utahime was saved from answering by the curse. As if she were some random marionette being controlled by a faraway puppeteer, she answered, "It's coming along great. I can't wait to share the first prototype with you." Shoko glanced at her strangely, but she could only give the slightest shake of her head to indicate that she didn't know what was going on either.

"Good, that's good," Yaga said, unaware of their small interaction. "If the skeleton of it is almost ready, I can go ahead and petition the council for the release of some files for you to input as test data. A number of your former students have already volunteered their own."

Petition the council? Files? Test data?

"I was skeptical at first," Yaga admitted. "There are some things that just don't mix. But you were right. We already give out mission details over email. This can't be that much less secure than that. As long as the proper Tengen-backed seals are in place and the engineering is airtight, there's no reason that so much of our work has to still be done manually." He patted her on the head once more. "I'm counting on you to make this a success. I believe the students will benefit from it the most."

Still as lost as she'd been all day, Utahime simply nodded. "Yes, sensei. I'll do my best."

"Let me know when you're ready to come back to work, or if you need more time."

"More time would be good," Shoko answered for her. "I want to monitor her some more. She works while she's at home anyway."

Yaga frowned when he heard that. "I hope you're getting the proper amounts of rest that you should be. Don't rush this. It might not get approved if you do."

"What are you saying? Of course it'll get approved!"

Utahime stiffened as they all turned to the office doorway. Gojo had his arm around Fushiguro's shoulder, dragging him into the room. The boy just sighed, allowing himself to be towed around like a doll. When they stopped next to the desk, Shoko took one hand that was wrapped around Utahime and placed it on his skin, right under his collar where the tops of an allergic rash could be seen slowly spreading.

"Hime knows what she's doing," Gojo said as Shoko pumped healing energy into the boy. "Let her work how she wants, old man." He shot her a brilliant smile with an energetic thumbs up.

Yaga just waved the words away. Utahime didn't know what to do with the alien confidence this Gojo seemed to have in her, so she waved them away in her mind as well.

"I'll watch her, don't worry," Shoko promised. "We'll mostly be doing research at my apartment. Nothing too strenuous."

Gojo's smile fell as he watched them. "Your apartment? Why not at the house?"

"Maybe we don't want to stay there right now," Shoko answered evenly, patting Fushiguro twice when she finished healing his rash. "Maybe we want to have a girls-only sleepover."

"But you two just had a sleepover!"

Utahime stared at Shoko, begging with her eyes not to leave her alone with him. Shoko smiled and rubbed comforting circles on her back.

"Be a dear, Satoru, and learn when you're not wanted," Shoko said, sticking out her tongue.

"Not wanted?!" he spluttered. His head snapped to Utahime, who shrank back as the prickle of Six Eyes washed over her once more.

"Not wanted," she repeated, though not as firmly as she wanted. She gripped Shoko tighter when that set him off.

"Oh, come on! I was really looking forward to spending quality time with my wife, you know! I warped all the way here instead of taking a flight, only for me to be thrown for a loop, surprised with a sight I never thought to expect on my arrival: to be cruelly, unusually, needlessly tossed to the side!" he cried dramatically.

"Cruelly?" Yaga asked.

"Unusually?" Fushiguro asked.

"Needlessly?" Shoko asked.

"Ah, cruel fate!" Gojo cried. "How swiftly joy and sorrow alternate! Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive—"

Fushiguro-kun cut him off, wanting to hear whatever nonsense Gojo couldn't stop spewing as much as the rest of them did. "Don't you have classes to go teach? Nanami-san said he's leaving on time today."

Gojo pouted. "That bore. Nanamin would do well to loosen up a bit. So stuffy!" He heaved a large dramatic sigh. "Sorry, Hime! I was planning on sweeping you off your feet, but the responsibilities of Great Teacher Gojo never end!"

Utahime swallowed against the dryness of her throat. "My feet are fine on the ground, thanks."

He shot her a brilliant smile. She watched as his gaze swept over her once more. He didn't ask her if she was okay like everyone else, but she had a feeling he was getting his own answer anyway. She felt like she did when the robot head was scanning her, only more invasive somehow. Whatever it was he saw pacified him. His shoulders drooped, releasing a tension she hadn't realized he'd been holding this whole time.

"Tadaima, Utahime," he said softly.

If she thought any of this was a mistake, or some elaborate prank, or any number of other things before, the way he just spoke to her dissolved her of that notion. It was everything the Gojo she'd come to know wasn't: soft, searching, intimate almost to the point of being uncomfortable. It was the way lovers spoke to each other in the dramas she liked. It was how she imagined the characters in her favorite shojo confessed their love.

And here was Gojo — loud, boisterous, insolent, inconsiderate Gojo — directing all this softness at her, speaking to her like that, telling her he was home like he had no doubt she'd been waiting for him, been wanting to see him.

So she nodded, after a moment or two too long of silence. "Okaeri, Gojo."

"Satoru," he gently corrected.

"Satoru," she managed to repeat without stumbling, although she was sure her face must've been on fire.

A bright smile lit up his face. "Make Shoko give you back your phone. If you're not busy, let me know and we can have lunch together. We can talk then, okay?"

Utahime nodded dumbly.

"Don't be stubborn! Actually text me. You can talk to me, I can help!"

"I'm fine," Utahime insisted, "like I've been telling everyone all day."

Gojo gave her a look that left no illusions as to how much he trusted that, but thankfully he didn't press her on it. "Alright then. No talking, just lunch. Katsu curry okay?"

She nodded again. She shouldn't have been surprised that he knew one of her favorite lunch dishes. She had been married to him for a few years in this reality, hadn't she?

"Katsu curry it is! See you soon, Hime. Shoko."

He left the medical bay with the Fushiguro kid still under his arm and Yaga-sensei grumbling at his back. Both waving at her as Gojo chatted their ears off about the meeting wherever he'd been. She waved back sluggishly, her hand hovering half-forgotten in the air as the doors closed behind them.

"Shoko?"

"Yeah, Uta?"

"Can you get me out of here before lunch?"

"Sure thing, Uta."

It was a short ride through Tokyo before Shoko was parked in the garage of a tall building. Nondescript, but Utahime could feel all the wards and seals as they got into the elevator with hands and bags full of books, rode up to the 13th floor, went down the hallway to Shoko's door. Layers and layers of protection, some of it too old and rooted to be anything other than carved into the foundations.

"It's actually one of Satoru's properties," Shoko said as she closed the door behind them. Before Utahime could panic, she said, "Don't worry. There are enough wards to keep even him out. Or at least give us ample warning before he pops up. He can't teleport in, so no surprise visits."

Utahime let out the breath she'd been holding, only to remember that she should be upset!

"Speaking of Gojo…"

Shoko had the nerve to look unaffected, the tiniest upward quirk in the corner of her mouth all that gave her away. "Yeah?"

"Were you ever going to tell me I was one, or were you just going to let me go home and wake up to his naked ass in my face?"

"Now there's a pleasant picture."

"Shoko!"

"Come on," she said, toeing off her shoes in the entrance, "it was a little funny."

Utahime hobbled after her, slipping her sandals off as she walked. "To who?!"

"I did try to tell you."

"Not hard enough!"

Shoko walked over to her living room, pushing this and that out of the way with her foot as she did. "Not my fault you were too busy mooning over some tall, dark fantasy to hear me out."

"I can't believe you, I really can't believe you." Utahime stepped over a half-empty medical tote and flopped down on the sofa in the space Shoko made for her. "How could you do this? How could you let this happen?"

"Me?" Shoko laughed, gathering up piles of laundry to toss in a corner so she could join Utahime on the couch. "How is this my fault?"

"All that crap you spewed about supporting me in my happiness! Who told you to do that, huh?"

"Isn't that what best friends do?"

"No! Best friends talk their best friends out of asinine mistakes!" Utahime flopped back onto the worn cushions of the couch. "How could this happen? What even made me fall for him in the first place? Did I even fall for him in the first place?" Nothing Shoko said so far specified a deep love between them, after all.

Shoko shrugged as she pulled out books and scrolls from the duffel on her lap. "How am I supposed to know? You two always did your own thing. I was content not to get in the middle of it." She picked up one book, placing it on the half-crowded coffee table. "Maybe the sex was too good."

Utahime's face burned. "Shoko…" she warned.

"Just saying. It would make sense that you fell head over heels if Satoru had crazy d—"

"Don't you finish that sentence."

So many thoughts, so many revelations. Utahime felt ill, actually physically nauseous.

"Shoko, I don't think I can do this," she admitted, throwing an arm over her head. "This reality is too different."

That made the other girl/woman pause. "Reality?"

Utahime hummed in assent. "I figure that I was either cursed into a dream, the future, or an alternate reality. It's not likely to be a dream, and this can't be my future."

"Which leaves an alternate reality," Shoko mused. She got up and went to her kitchen. "You sure about that?"

Utahime heaved a hefty sigh. "No."

"You know, you could've just been dickmatized," she said, pouring herself a full tumbler of whiskey. "It's not outside the realm of possibility."

Utahime shook her head when she offered her some. Now was probably not a great time to get drunk off her ass. Not if she wanted to get home soon. "Please stop talking about Gojo's…thing."

It wasn't something she really wanted to think about. Ever.

"I forgot how much of a prude you were at this age."

Before Utahime could snap at her — because she was not a prude, she'd done lots of things already! — a phone pinged. It took her a second to realize it was hers.

On the ride over, Shoko gave her a few pointers on how to use it, but really, it was mostly intuitive. Just a whole bunch of swiping and pressing. It was awkward to hold, but not too hard to learn to use.

She opened the message without looking at who sent it and instantly regretted it. A picture of a shopping basket filled with ingredients filled the screen. Three small dots that reminded her of the internet loading, then a message:

Pork, chicken, or tofu?

Her immediate reaction was to say tofu. Utahime's family discouraged the shrine maidens from eating too much meat. It had become something of a guilty pleasure for her in her time away at school. Of course, she paid for it dearly whenever she went home, her grandmother and elders chiding her for the weight and muscle she kept putting on while away, unbefitting of a girl in her position.

No one will want to put an offer in for you if you're built like their sons!

She'd eat tofu and miso with green tea for days to slim down, lucky if a cousin or a cook took pity on her and snuck her a small bowl of rice.

Utahime was lost in her thoughts for so long that Gojo made the decision for her.

Who am I kidding? Pork and chicken it is, then! You're probably sick of tofu right now, hm?

Shoko still have you on that diet?

"What's he saying?"

Utahime startled, almost dropping the phone in her hands. "Who?"

She gave Utahime a look that said be-so-serious-right-now. "Your husband, obviously. Your face is white like a sheet."

"Don't call him that," she grumbled. "He wants to know about lunch, and if you still have me on a diet?"

The smile slipped off Shoko's face.

It was starting to get to her, all the secrets. How everyone kept tiptoeing around her, how everyone kept looking at her to see if she'd fall over and shatter into a bunch of pieces. Utahime had never been the strongest one in the room by far. To her embarrassment, she relied on the support of others almost as much as they relied on her, sometimes even more.

But even then, no one treated her like she was made of glass. They still saw and respected her as a sorcerer, at least to the extent of keeping things real with her.

"Shoko, wh—"

"So do you wanna have lunch with him?"

Utahime narrowed her eyes at the obvious subject change. "No, of course not. But wh—"

"Let's order in, then! Lots of books to get through. We've gotta figure out what's going on with you if we wanna send you home."

"But Gojo…"

Shoko came back to the sofa, took a healthy gulp of her whiskey, then pulled out her own phone. Her fingers flew across the digital keypad for a few minutes. Before Utahime could wonder what she was doing, her own phone pinged once more.

Sorry, baby. Yaga's being annoying as shit. Rain check? We can do dinner instead

Utahime was wondering what she might say in reply when those foreboding three little dots popped up again.

We can not talk as much as you want to >:)

She shrieked, throwing her phone across the room.

"He wants to dinner!" she squealed at Shoko. And maybe more than just dinner!

But Shoko just laughed at her. "Don't worry, I spoke to Yaga. He can keep Satoru busy for a few days."

Utahime relaxed only marginally. Hopefully that was long enough for her to find her way out of this wacky reality and back to where she belonged.

Lunch came and went, thankfully with no signs of Gojo.

They were currently spread out across Shoko's living room. The coffee table was littered with the remnants of their takeout, the texts and scrolls she'd gathered earlier all around them. Topics ranging from time curses to long-lost cursed techniques to the many forms Binding Vows could take swam in Utahime's head. Any other day, she'd be fascinated by the kind of things the school (rightfully) kept under lock and key. She stealthily eyed a scroll containing a ritual that enabled a person to temporarily take others' cursed techniques for a bit too long until Shoko looked over at it, too. It had nothing to do with what they were looking for, so Utahime only pouted a little when she handed it over for Shoko to put in the return pile.

Utahime was shifting to relieve the pins and needles in one of her legs when Shoko's phone chimed several times in rapid succession. She froze, wondering if it was Gojo, if time was already up, if she had to face him again so soon.

But Shoko just sighed as she looked at the screen. "Never a day off with sorcerers. Always getting themselves impaled and sliced open." She stood up, stretching her arms high above her head. "Let's take a break, hm? I need to make a call real quick."

With nothing else but a suggestion for her to get comfy, Shoko walked down the hallway toward what Utahime assumed was her bedroom. Her voice was detached and professional as she spoke to whoever on the other end of the line, but soft enough that the words didn't carry.

Utahime looked around the small living room. It was a nice apartment in a good area with a balcony overlooking incredible views, but all that beauty was wasted and hidden under the mess. So she started puttering around. It would cost her nothing to help Shoko out a little bit, right? Round up some trash, load the dishwasher, stack some papers. She finished the first two tasks rather quickly, smiling when she saw how much just a little work opened up the space, made it feel lighter.

She was stacking the papers strewn all over the coffee table. Since that was where they ate, she figured she could just put them neatly with the papers strewn all over the dining table that looked like it had never been used. There was more space there anyway.

Utahime wasn't nosy. She only looked at each item long enough to determine which pile to put them in: envelopes with envelopes, loose leaf with loose leaf, packets with packets, anything pre-grouped together stayed together.

She wasn't nosy, but that didn't mean she wasn't primed to picking out her name in a sea of characters. It was her name, after all. She'd been staring at it in some way, shape, or form for the past couple of decades. It wasn't her fault; it practically jumped off the page right at her!

…and if she were being honest, she was curious about why Shoko had something with her name on it among her pile of junk. Not suspicious (Shoko was her best friend, so it made sense that she'd become her doctor down the line as well) but curious all the same.

So she just scanned the first page of the document, dated six days prior to today. There was a letterhead from a hospital she recognized, one of a number of them across the country with a Jujutsu ward that sorcerers frequented. It was always best practice for them to try and go to one of those before defaulting to a non-sorcerer establishment. This one happened to be international, for any foreign sorcerers visiting Japan. As such, the first page was all in English.

Utahime's English was atrocious, so she only picked up a few letters and words here and there. Patient, with her name next to it. DOB, with her birthday. Visit, pain, diagnosis, symptom, release, ERPC, acknowledgment, discharge, follow up, sur-surgical manage—

The paper was ripped out of her hand as she tried to make sense of the term.

"Hey!"

Shoko frowned at her. "Thought I told you to take it easy."

Utahime pouted, a bit put out by the unnecessary force and the slight condescension. "I was just cleaning up a bit. Your place is a mess!"

"Cleaning up, huh?"

"Yeah, you're welcome. What is that?"

Shoko shrugged, turning to look through the rest of the papers Utahime gathered on the table. "Don't worry about it," she said, picking up a few more.

"But my name's on it," Utahime said.

"Your name's on a lot of things."

"A lot of hospital papers?" she asked skeptically.

"Could be."

Utahime frowned. Quick as lightning, she reached out and snatched the paper back.

"It's not funny, Uta! Give it back!"

Utahime danced out of the way of Shoko's reaching hands, skipping backward as the younger girl/older woman grew visibly more frustrated the longer she couldn't reach her.

"You want them back?" Utahime said in a singsong voice. "Then tell me what's in them!"

She thought Shoko would laugh with her, play along, teasingly threaten her back. She wasn't prepared for the doctor to march right up to her and grab her roughly by the arm.

"Fucking listen when I talk to you! No means no. You have zero right to this information, it doesn't concern you!"

Utahime froze, a bit startled at the uncharacteristic display from Shoko, long enough for the other woman to take the papers back from her. "I'm listed as the patient," she said dumbly.

"Not really you, is it?" Shoko took no chances this time, tucking the papers in her waistband, then tucking her shirt over that. "If it was, you wouldn't need to ask me what was in them."

Utahime chose to ignore that. "It was dated from six days ago."

"And?"

"And that means it matches up with everything!" The staff senior at the mansion (her house?), all of her colleagues' concerns. Whatever happened to her was enough to land her in that hospital a week ago, and she wanted to know what it was!

Shoko ignored her, plopping down on the couch. She angled her body so that the side of her pants that she tucked the papers into was facing the inside of the couch. She picked up her abandoned glass of whiskey and took a long drink.

Utahime sat next to her. "What is it you're not telling me?"

Shoko shrugged but stayed silent.

"Shoko."

More silence.

"Shoko, what is it?" She made a light attempt at humor. "I'm a big girl, I can take it."

Shoko rolled her neck, obviously intent on not answering.

"So what, all that talk about no more secrets was just bullshit?" Utahime asked. "Or was that just something you said to placate me, like I'm some kind of fucking child?"

"I never promised you that I wouldn't keep secrets from you, and for good reason. You're acting like a child right now," Shoko deadpanned.

Utahime scoffed. "Fuck you."

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you."

"No, fuck you."

"Fuck."

"Fuck."

"I'm very frustrated with you right now, but I still love you."

"I still love you too. You're being an annoying bitch."

"You're being an annoying bitch!"

"Just let it go. Like I said, it doesn't concern—"

"No!" Utahime cried, surging to her feet. "I've had enough! I woke up today, confused and alone and really scared, actually! I didn't recognize where I was, who I was, not even my own face! I mean for heavens' sake, I'm only nine—"

She screamed through closed lips as the curse stopped her from going too far.

"Ugh, I can't even talk! This is frustrating enough without you keeping things from me. I don't care if you're older than me now. As your senpai and your best friend, you are going to tell me and you are going to tell me now, Shoko Ieiri!"

Shoko watched her outburst with an emotionless expression on her face. It almost made Utahime want to scream, rip her hair out, knock something over. Anything, if it meant getting Shoko to react, say something, do something!

But she didn't. Frustrated though she was, Utahime had been brought up properly. She was still a guest in Shoko's home, and the younger girl/older woman had been helping her all day. So she swallowed her indignity and waited somewhat patiently for Shoko's response.

When it came, it filled Utahime with dread.

"I don't know what you want from me," Shoko finally said. "To be frank, even though you are still Utahime, I really don't see how it's any of your business."

Utahime felt like she'd been slapped in the face. "Excuse me?"

Shoko rose gingerly, and for the first time, Utahime fully internalized the toll the passing of time placed on Shoko. She was young, but she walked like a person decades older than she was. Utahime idly wondered: did she look like that to outsiders? Rising from her seat with the invisible weight of the world on her shoulders, moving around as if struggling against gravity with every step? When the Utahime who this body belonged to rose, did everyone else see exhaustion, burnout, weariness with every step? Did they see what she saw now, a woman on the brink of collapse?

Was it selfishness or desensitization that made her miss how tired Shoko looked? Of course, it was Shoko, so she was always tired. But this Shoko…

"What goes on in her life — our Uta's life — doesn't concern you," Shoko said calmly, untucking the papers from her pants and shoving them in the pile on the dining table. She then took her cup to rinse out in the sink.

The words weren't spoken with the intention of hurting her, but Utahime couldn't pretend that wasn't the ultimate effect.

"It's not fair," she said, swallowing against the wobble in her voice. "I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I'm still her. I'm your Uta, too."

Shoko let out a heavy breath. Hands placed on the counter in front of her, Shoko hung her head.

"Please just let it go."

"Let what go?" Utahime asked. "My accident? My mission? What am I supposed to let go of?"

"Things you don't need to know," Shoko said, leaning forward on her elbows to rake her hair through shaking hands.

Utahime frowned. "Maybe I don't need to know. Maybe I want to know."

"That's not good enough."

"If me wanting to be able to navigate this situation I've found myself in a little bit easier isn't good enough, then I'm not sure what could be."

"Uta…"

"What can I do that would be good enough for you, huh? What can I do to make you be honest with me?"

"Please."

"I'd do it for you. I'd never keep a secret from you, even if it hurts."

"Don't make me do this again," Shoko finally pleaded. "Please don't make me break the news to you again."

Shoko looked around half-wildly, reaching for her pack of cigarettes when she found where she'd left them. She patted her pockets for a lighter, cursing softly when she couldn't find one. Utahime watched silently as Shoko — gritty, indomitable Shoko — all but tore her kitchen apart in an effort to find a lighter she never would.

It took all the fight out of Utahime.

"Shoko?"

The woman stopped, shaking her head as if to rid it of unwanted intrusions. Utahime walked up slowly behind her until she could reach out, placing a gentle hand on her back.

"It has nothing to do with you," Shoko tried one last time. "This particular piece of knowledge isn't one you need to burden yourself with."

Burden yourself, she'd said. Not concern yourself.

"I still want to know."

Shoko took a deep breath, warred with herself for a minute, then took Utahime by the hand. Instead of taking her back to the couch, they crossed the hallway and went into what must've been Shoko's main bedroom. It was neater than any other space Utahime'd ever seen her occupy. Just a few pieces of furniture, a standard bed, and a window on the far wall.

Utahime allowed herself to be led over to the bed. Instead of sitting on it, Shoko lowered herself to the floor at the foot of the bed, bringing Utahime down with her.

There was once, halfway through the third term of her second year, that Mei Mei knocked on her door at Tokyo Tech. When she called for her classmate to come in, she'd been sitting on the bed, reading a manga. Mei had come with terrible news: one of their senpai, a boy in the year ahead of them, had died on a mission. Quite gruesomely, in fact.

This boy was special, someone both she and Mei had formed an attachment to. One of the only people in the entire school who looked at her and Mei, a pair of Grade 3s at the time with underdeveloped cursed techniques and the only girls in the school, and treated them like human beings. So it was only natural for Utahime to be shocked. Shocked and dismayed.

So much so that when she jolted upright upon hearing the news, she fell off her bed, hit her head on the corner of the nightstand, and gave herself a concussion.

As with all things in their society, a tale with such morbid beginnings transformed into something of a joke. Utahime, all things graceful: managing to fall and injure herself while seated.

If anything could convince her that this wasn't an alternate reality after the shocking revelations of the past few hours, it was this.

Because it had led to a sort of inside joke to those who got to know her. Whenever there was important news to share, they'd take her by the hand and sit her on the ground.

Don't freak out.

Can't have you falling over when you hear this.

Any higher up and you might hurt yourself!

It usually happened as a joke. Mei sat her on the floor when she lost her virginity. Yuki-senpai sat her on the floor when she gave Utahime her first beer. Gojo sat her on the floor whenever he wanted to prank her. Hell, even Geto sat her on the floor when he had to confess that the reason she failed her last mission was because he and Gojo had followed her and was fooling around without her knowledge. They'd been the reason why the curse user who'd been hiding for days escaped (as well as the reason why the higher ups chewed her out and denied her a promotion).

And now Shoko was the one sitting her on the floor.

Utahime knew better than to think this was for some sort of joke or prank.

"How do you feel?" Shoko asked.

"This again?" Utahime grumbled. "I feel fine."

"Really? Truly? You're not just saying that?"

Utahime opened her mouth, then shut it again. Before she answered, she took stock of herself. "Fine," she said after a moment. "A little heavy, maybe a bit tired. But nothing more, really."

Shoko rubbed one of Utahime's hands between hers. "That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

"How bad was it?"

Because it had to have been terrible for Shoko to act like this. Impish streak and a small affinity for chaos notwithstanding, Shoko really was a blunt person. Outside of a small prank or surprise here and there, Shoko was upfront, honest, and told it like it was, straight.

"I'm sorry, Uta. You've just been so happy all day."

"This was happy to you?!"

"Compared to how you've been acting all week, yeah."

You were already here. You came from the school and have been here all week.

"What happened to me last week, Shoko?"

And Utahime could see the moment her best friend locked herself behind her professional persona and steeled herself. "You were working in your office on campus. You'd been a little lightheaded, had some lower back pain. You were taking it relatively easy but also had that large project you'd been working on, so no one thought anything of it when we hadn't heard from you in a few hours."

Utahime's heart thudded in her chest. Her face felt tight, her throat grew a lump, her eyes stung. Just like before when Yaga comforted her, it was as if she was simply witnessing her body feel things rather than feeling them herself.

It was a strange sensation. She didn't know what Shoko was talking about, but the rest of her did.

And the rest of her didn't want to hear it. More than anything, every cell in her body was begging for a different topic of conversation.

"By the time Fushiguro-kun found you, it was too late," Shoko said softly. "He noticed the bleeding, he brought you straight to me, but…"

"…but?"

"But by then, there was nothing I could do. No amount of healing could fix it."

Fix what?

"All I could do was schedule you an appointment to take care of the rest of it as soon as possible. I knew a doctor in the international hospital who owed me a favor. We got you in less than two days later. I healed up the rest of it to stop anymore bleeding and abdominal pain, but I think it still lingered for a few days."

Dread filled Utahime for some reason she couldn't name.

"Of course, you put on a brave face. Assured everyone that you were fine, that you'd just take the leave Yaga offered to finish up healing somewhere other than an office." Shoko shook her head, the smallest crack in her facade peeking through when she said, "You told me you were glad to have a little time to yourself, away from prying eyes and concerned faces. It happened at the school, so we weren't able to keep it a secret for long."

"Keep what a secret, Shoko? What are you saying? What happened to me?"

Shoko stared at her for a while. She opened her mouth, then closed it, only to open it again and close it again.

"Ah, screw this."

Shoko got to her feet, walked out of the bedroom. She was only gone for a few moments before she returned. When she sat back down, she handed some papers to Utahime.

The same ones she'd caught a glimpse of before.

"Second page is in local language," Shoko whispered.

Utahime flipped to the second page, and her blood ran cold as she processed the words she read.

Shoko was right. It was none of her business.

That didn't stop the tears from falling as she read through the details of the medical report. At this point, Utahime couldn't tell if it was because of whatever weird curse she was under or just a natural empathetic reaction. But she couldn't help it as her vision blurred and her breath hitched. She couldn't help but to lean into her best friend when she wrapped her up in an embrace so tight it could've suffocated. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly absurd.

After all, it wasn't like she was the one who just lost their baby.

Not really, anyway.