Chapter Text
Utahime awoke to the sound of something falling, followed by a string of expletives said under soft breaths. She opened her eyes to the tall figure looming over her, the urge to scream her first instinct until the familiar mop of silver reminded her of her current whereabouts.
She had taken Megumi home after their talk and went through the motions of making dinner and getting him ready for bed until the boy had shyly asked if they could watch a movie first. Exhaustion must’ve caught up to him earlier than expected because twenty minutes in and Megumi was already fast asleep next to her. She had intended to wake him and help him to bed before Gojo returned, but the softness of his snores and the way he clung to her fingers gently pulled her into sleep alongside him.
“Sorry,” Gojo whispered, his face grimacing at the disturbance he caused. “I was trying to turn off the tv and dropped the remote.”
Utahime glanced at her phone on the coffee table and realized with surprise that it was 2 o’clock in the morning. Promptly, she pointed to the sleeping boy in her arms, and motioned for Gojo to help him off of her. He complied quickly, picking up the boy with ease and sent her a nod to indicate that he was going to takeover from here.
It was a couple minutes until Gojo emerged from Megumi’s bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him as he made his way towards the living room where she stood, watching her collect her things as she mentally calculate the taxi fares she would need to get home.
“Thanks for watching him, I’m sorry it’s so late.” He said, apologetically sheepish.
She shook her head in reply, waving off his apology with a grin. “Don’t worry, I had a fun time.”
There was no doubt she appeared disheveled, a stark contrast to her usual composed self. The thought made her shift uncomfortably, her fingers instinctively smoothing out her hair as best as she could. But his gaze remained steady, unbothered, as though he saw something beyond the tiredness and the mess. That peculiar look—it wasn’t judgmental or amused, but something softer, almost thoughtful. For a moment, Utahime wondered if he saw her in a way she hadn’t expected, in a way that left her feeling more exposed than she’d ever been.
“Can I take you home?” He asked, noticing the glances she was making at the time on her phone. “It’s late and I would feel more at ease if I saw you home.”
She shook her head instantly, feeling apprehensive about being in closed quarters with the man who made her heart beat relentlessly. “No one would be at home with Megumi.”
As if the thought had just occurred to him, Gojo pondered over her words earnestly. “Then how about you stay over?”
Utahime stumbled at his suggestion, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. She had stayed late a few times since meeting them, occasionally even past midnight when idled chatter and endless laughter gave way to time. But this was the first time he’d offered, and it seemed to surprise him as well, given the way he scratched his neck, looking a bit sheepish at his own words.
“No no, I couldn’t.” She shook her head, the flutter in her stomach still not subsiding. “I can’t impose.”
“You wouldn’t be!” He said quickly, the pitch of his voice rising before clearing his throat. “I think Megumi would kill me if I let you go home alone at this hour.”
She knew his suggestion was practical, but her mind raced with a thousand considerations. She thought of her toothbrush, the ten-step skincare routine she followed without fail. Then there was the matter of work—she’d need a change of clothes, and the back-and-forth would steal away what little sleep she could get. It wasn’t just the logistics, though; it was the quiet disruption of her routine, the subtle unease of stepping outside the familiar.
“I-I have work in the morning.” She explained, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than anything. “I would need a change of clothes.”
The words came to him before either of them could process it, “I’m sure I have something for you to borrow.”
It was an odd suggestion, and the look on both of their faces confirmed that thought immediately. Hers was one of embarrassment, the picture of her draped in his clothes did little to quell the flutter in her stomach; while Gojo’s was one of horrid, as if finally piecing together the connotations of his words.
“Wait, I meant that I think there might be some women’s clothing around that you could wear.”
Oh, she thought, his words washing over her like a heavy storm, sinking into her chest and tightening her throat with the weight of their implication. Even as she tries to not make a big deal out of it, she couldn’t explain this away as anything other than that there had been other women here before. So much so that there were leftover garments for the next one to borrow.
“Thank you for the offer, Gojo-san, but I don’t think I would feel very comfortable with that.” The formality of her words made them sound more bitter than she had intended, but she couldn’t shake off the confusion she felt.
“Wait no, Utahime, that sounded weird.” Gojo said quickly, fear of being perceived wrongfully hastening his words. “This was just a misunderstanding. There are women’s clothing here for you to borrow, but they are brand new and not anyone’s old clothes. It’s a long story but somehow, I just ended up with them.”
Despite her unease, she nodded, deciding to accept the strange explanation rather than torment herself over what might simply be a product of her own insecurities.
“Look, I won’t force you to stay over, but please let me drive you home. It’ll be quick and I’ll leave a note for Megumi just in case he wakes up.” He pleaded one more time, the circles under his eyes somehow more prominent in this light, making her realize that this pointless back and forth was just eating away at both of their sleep.
Softly, she nodded in agreement, surrendering herself to his appeal so that they can both relieve themselves of this awkward conversation.
——
Utahime had only ever taken the subway home from his place so she truly didn’t realize how quick of a drive it was to get back to her place. The streets at night were eerily quiet, save for the odd stragglers here and there, and the occasional drunk tourists wandering around on the Main Street.
She had been in Gojo’s car countless times now, but it had always been with the kids and never just the two of them. Suddenly, the luxury SUV they were in felt smaller than ever, and she find herself leaning as close to the window as possible for fear that a single touch would become her undoing. She had noticed long ago that Gojo had a habit of driving with one hand on the steering wheel, leaving the other to drape casually over the gear shift, his fingers tapping absentmindedly as if in rhythm to some unheard tune. It was a small, almost careless gesture, but one that made him seem both relaxed and in control, a reflection of the effortless confidence he carried in every aspect of his life. Sometimes, much to her dismay, it would move to sprawl over her headrest as he turned to reverse, causing his face to edge closer to hers unknowingly. She held her breath in those instances, afraid that any air she inhaled in his presence would cause irreparable damage to her heart.
Tonight, however, she was holding her breath for entirely different reasons. Being alone with him in the stillness of the night, when the silence seemed to press in, the thumps emitting from her chest felt as if it might unravel all her hidden truths. Even with the melodic tunes seeping out of the speakers, all she could make out was the sound of her heart beating over all the noise. Not for the first time tonight, she realized how irrevocably in love she was with this man.
“Um, today—“
“So today—“
They both stopped mid-sentence, their voices colliding awkwardly in the quiet night. They blinked at each other, a brief moment of confusion passing between them, before the absurdity of it settled in. Gojo chuckled first, the sound light and teasing, and soon enough Utahime followed, smiling comfortably like she hadn’t been able to do so in the past hour.
“You first,” He offered softly.
“I picked Megumi up at the school today,” She started, a bit nervous now that she finally broached the topic she’s been dying to discuss. “He had an argument with some friends.”
“What kind of argument?” He asked, brow raised at the information.
Utahime was hesitant to continue, even though she knew it was inevitable. She pondered over the best way to relay this information without sounding like she was prying, but it had been the biggest mystery since she’s met them, and every new piece of information she learned was more and more perplexing.
“It was about his mother.” She said finally, unsure of the hint of confusion that flashed through Gojo’s face at the mention of his potential wife. “Apparently some kid was making fun of Megumi and his friends for their family circumstances, and he said something that hurt another friend’s feelings by saying that at least he had a dad.”
Gojo’s face was a cross between empathy and anger, his tightening grip on the steering wheel an indication of the sensitivity around this topic.
“Was it that Zenin kid?” He asked finally, and Utahime was surprised to hear how quickly he had seem to connect the dots. “Hah, I really need to visit that kid’s family.”
The frustration in his voice made it clear that this was a recurring problem, and the teacher in her felt an instinctive sense of protectiveness toward the kids. She considered asking a follow-up question, but they had already reached the front steps of her apartment. It seemed like a conversation better suited for another time, so she kept silent, waiting for Gojo to share whatever he was willing.
“Megumi and the Zenins have a strained history.” He said with a sigh. “The truth is that Megumi’s father—his real father—was from the Zenin family.”
The sudden information caught her off guard. After spending more time with the family of three, she had an inkling that Gojo wasn’t really their birth father, but there was no way of confirming this fact, until now that is. She had her doubts, but she couldn’t chance the fact that she could’ve potentially exposed a fact that the children weren’t already aware of. Utahime figured that she would come to figure it out one day, and it seemed like today was that day.
She continued to stay silent, letting him carry on with what he wanted to say. “Megumi’s father eloped with Tsumiki’s mother and had Megumi out of wedlock. The Zenins are a bunch of old fashioned traditionalists and couldn’t accept the relationship or the kids. When Toji passed, there were a lot of questions over inheritance of his assets.”
There was a tinge of bitterness in Gojo’s voice, and Utahime’s heart pricked at the tragedies the children have had to endure at such a young age.
“Those bastards didn’t care about the kids until all of Toji’s private assets came to light and suddenly they wanted to claim them as Zenins.” She could feel the anger rising in his voice, and Utahime is once again reminded of how foreign these familial conflicts seem to her. Being raised in a true middle class family meant that she never even considered inheritance disputes such as this one.
“How did you come to take care of them?” She asked, curiosity piquing at every word.
“Toji and I weren’t the best mates, and if anything I really hated that guy at some point.” His tone was lighter now, a faint chuckle could be heard as he recalled some faraway memories of the past. “But I couldn’t leave those kids in the greedy hands of those bastards. Their mother’s family weren’t that well off either, and they had already severed ties with her before either of them were born.”
As they sat in the car, the soft hum of the engine and the distant city sounds creating a backdrop, Utahime found herself utterly captivated by Gojo’s words. His voice had taken on a fond, almost light quality as he spoke, weaving jokes and affection with an ease that made the conversation seemed more lighthearted than it really was.
“I knew him from a young age, our families were always mixed up with each other one way or another.” He recalled fondly, “He disappeared from the scene for years when I was eighteen and then showed up out of nowhere a decade later with two kids in tow. He didn’t exactly say he needed help but I’d heard rumors of how much he hated the Zenins. I got news of his death a bit later, when his lawyer came to read out his will and left me with his kids.”
She looked at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and curiosity. She opened her mouth to ask more questions, each one stumbling over the other in her head as she listened. But before she could utter a single word, a bright beam of light suddenly cut through the car’s interior.
A security guard stood outside, his flashlight sweeping across the windshield with a steady, authoritative beam. “Excuse me, what’s your business here?”
The interruption was jarring, pulling Utahime out of her reverie. She blinked, the spell of awe momentarily broken as she glanced at the clock on the dashboard. The hour was indeed late, and the reality of the night settled back in. She gave Gojo a soft, apologetic smile, her thoughts still swirling with the affection she felt but now tinged with a sense of urgency.
“You should probably get back now.” she said, a touch of regret in her voice. “Thanks for giving me a ride home, and for sharing that with me.”
Gojo’s eyes met hers, something akin to a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Of course,” he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. “Sorry you had to spend your thursday night babysitting.”
“No way, I love spending time with Megumi.” She replied, dismissing any notion that she had anything but a good time tonight. “I’m not just available on friday nights you know.”
Utahime felt a strange rush of nerves after those words left her mouth, and the realization of what she had said hit her belatedly. She looked up to find Gojo’s face lighting up with a broad grin. “Oh really?”
“W-Wait, that came out wrong.” She stammered, face flush with embarrassment as the grin on Gojo’s face split impossibly wider. “Oh, you know what I meant.”
For the first time that night, Gojo’s laughter rang out—deep and genuine, filling the space between them with warmth. He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, clearly amused and touched by her flustered reaction.
“Got it,” he said, his tone light and teasing, but there was a softness in his eyes that made Utahime’s heart skip a beat. “We’ll definitely make more time for each other.”
As their laughter faded, a comfortable silence enveloped them, underscored by a shared sense of understanding. The security guard’s interruption felt like a distant memory. The night still held a sense of possibility, and the promise of more conversations to come lingered as they prepared to say goodbye, each wearing a smile that hinted at something changed.