Chapter Text
The dazzling lights of the Tokyo police station shone with a sterile sort of mercy; perhaps too bright or too clean for a pair of teenagers who had lived in the dark for more than a week. Especially for Satoru, whose shades had got lost during the struggle against the captors.
He was having a hard time trying to keep his eyes open without feeling that the lights stung his eye balls.
He and Utahime sat side by side on a metal bench, their hands linked like a single lifeline, the subtle stink they had brought from their captivity already vanished after one of the officers gave them some space to use the sink and wash the dirtiness off their skin, if only a little. Their statements had been taken twice, then checked by a doctor, and given some hot cocoa in small cups to help them regain some energy. Everything felt too fast and too slow all at once.
“So, there’s no one who can come for you, Iori-san?” The officer asked with concern, watching the girl shake her head, as if ashamed. “But you’re still a minor. The law says I have to keep you under police force custody until a tutor takes charge.”
Not knowing what to say, the girl remained silent. Satoru blinked, still trying to adjust his eyesight to the blinding lights before speaking.
“She’ll turn 20 next year, officer. I don’t think there’s any problem with that. We already told you her mom is a deadbeat, and she doesn’t even know where to find her. My mom will take charge when she arrives, if the matter is just mere formality.”
The policewoman sighed, the exhaustion in her eyes a telltale of the endless times she had witnessed this situation.
“Fine, but I’ll file charges of violation of parental duty under the Civil Code against her and make the Family Court intervene. In the meantime, wait here while I bring the documents for you to sign.” And with that, she disappeared by the end of the corridor.
Satoru kept blinking, and Utahime made him rest his head on her lap as she covered his eyes with a hand towel she had, threading her fingers within his hair to massage his scalp.
However, his restlessness didn’t come only from the pain in his eyes, but also from what happened back in the warehouse. And the dried rust-brown streak on his shirt was an evidence of what he did to Fushiguro Toji.
“You okay?”
“Never better,” he teased, grinning at her. The sight of his covered eyes hid the turmoil inside him, and instead enhanced the mischievousness in his expression, sending a shiver down her spine, one that ended between her legs and crept up to her cheeks in a wild blush.
She was lucky he couldn’t see her.
He was lucky she was too tired to read him now. But, somehow, she sensed it, even though not entirely.
“Satoru?”
“Hmm?”
“Whatever you’re thinking… We had no choice. We did it together, and we’ll stay in this together.”
Like a soothing balm, her reassurance was all he needed to calm his galloping heart, and he kissed the back of her hand in return.
“I know.”
Some minutes passed before he spoke again, lulled by the melody she hummed to lull his eye pain and his thoughts.
“Hime?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m worried about Mochi.”
“Don’t worry. I know he’s okay,” she comforted him, sliding her finger over his eyebrows.
“How?”
“I just… know.”
Satoru chuckled, the vibrations of the sound reverberating on her thighs. “Maternal instinct?”
Utahime laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe.”
And as they talked, the doors opened, making Satoru drop the hand towel as he straightened up.
Gojo Kaede walked in like a storm that refused to admit it had rained. Her heels hit the floor with clean precision, her posture perfect, her countenance carved in ice… Except for the subtle fear beneath it. She stepped in, and the moment her eyes landed on her son, something split and reformed in her forthwith.
“Satoru.”
His name slipped out of her like she had held it hostage for years.
Her son stood on his feet and she crossed the room to wrap her arms around him firmly. Desperately. Like she feared he would vanish the instant she blinked.
For the first time in memory, Satoru was held within his mother’s arms.
For a heartbeat, he hesitated, until he found the will to lift his arms and fold them around her. He wasn’t a son seeking comfort but rather someone astonished to be given it.
And his mother pulled back slowly, failing in her first attempt to compose herself. “Are you hurt? Tell me you’re not.” Her voice, although polished, snagged at the edges.
“I’m okay,” he said, softly yet dazed. “Really.”
“Look at you.” She examined her son in the careful way he had only seen from mothers in movies, gasping softly at his wounds and the blood stains on his clothes. “What did that crooked man do to you…?”
“I’m fine. I promise I’m fine.”
The woman sighed with relief, quickly recalling the police reports about the incident. “You need a bath, and a change of clothes… Good grief, I forgot to bring your spare sunglasses.”
His eyes, despite the exhaustion and the bags beneath, held something small but bright, something that looked like hope.
But it only lasted a second.
Because Kaede’s gaze dropped to the spot behind him. To the girl sitting on the chair.
And her expression shuttered, her green eyes scanning the girl from head to toe.
“And who,” she asked, each syllable sharp as cut glass, “is this?”
Stretching his hand to his girlfriend’s, Satoru laced his fingers with hers, prompting her to stand next to him. “She’s Utahime, my girlfriend,” he explained proudly. “Sorry you’re meeting her like this, mother. But she’s the reason I’m standing here.”
Anxious, Utahime bowed quickly, her hands trembling slightly despite her controlled voice. “It’s an honor to meet you, Gojo-san. I—I’m sorry for the circumstances.”
Kaede looked over her, the kind of assessment that reduced people to threads she could snip. She had expected a delinquent, or perhaps, someone loud and improper, as expected of the lower classes. Instead, she found a soft-spoken girl with the kind of manners she couldn’t mock, and a perfect keigo, despite her scrapped knees, bruised wrists, and the dirt on her clothes.
It made her throat taste sour.
“I think… I’ve seen you before.” Of course she did. Of course Gojo Kaede remembered the exact day she saw this girl who had disrupted her son’s peace of mind. “Oh, Satoru’s birthday party, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Utahime didn’t smile nor move. Her throat felt tight, sore under the weight of the tense agony of not knowing what to expect from her boyfriend’s complicated mother.
The family matriarch’s eyes landed on their linked hands, the ones her son hadn’t let go of.
“So,” she folded her arms with a delicate, disdainful lift of her chin. “May I ask if you’re the one who led my son into this mess?”
“Mother,” Satoru snapped harshly. Any trace of tenderness that could have come up between them was now vanished. “She didn’t ‘lead’ me anywhere. We were kidnapped, together. She wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t because of me. And I can assure you she protected me as much as I protected her.”
Utahime’s lips parted. Shock and shame flickering in her expression. But Satoru squeezed her hand before she could speak.
Kaede didn’t apologize. She never did.
Instead, she gave him a short nod, dismissive and brittle. “Very well. If you say so.”
The air felt heavy enough to swallow a mouthful. But the doors opened again before it became impossible to breathe.
Two figures rushed in. First was Shoko, and then Suguru right behind her. The girl reached them first, wrapping Utahime in a hug so long and tight it startled even her.
Utahime froze and clung onto her friend, burying a shaky breath against Shoko’s shoulder. Honestly, she wanted to cry. But something inside warned her not to give Gojo Kaede the satisfaction.
Then came Suguru, hugging Satoru so tightly it almost left the boy breathless.
“Never do that again, bro,” he purred, making Satoru laugh. “You guys scared us shitless.”
Kaede winced in disgust at the language. But she refrained herself from snatching her son out of there.
“Ah, hello, Gojo-san,” Suguru and Shoko said in unison, earning only a subtle nod in response.
“Satoru, I’ll wait for you outside.”
And she left, her steps firm yet light as a feather in a display of superiority and elegance.
Satoru ignored her, feeling more at ease now. Like he could finally smile. “Missed me so much, you blockhead?”
“Not anymore. Who would miss your annoying ass?”
Shoko pushed her boyfriend to hug Satoru, scrunching her nose at their insults. “Why is it that you two can’t act like civilized men?”
“See?” Satoru hugged her back, blinking as the lights pierced his orbs again. “The midget here missed me, indeed.”
His friend pushed him quickly, going back to Utahime’s side. “Senpai, how can you deal with this moron?”
And before Utahime could excuse herself, or join Shoko in a plethora of insults for the boys, Suguru patted her back with affection.
“I’m glad you’re back, senpai.”
“Me too, Geto-kun. I’m glad to see you, guys.”
“I know you two have a lot to tell us, but before that I want you to know that Mochi-san is safe and sound at home. I picked him up from the daycare until you guys were back.”
Satoru turned to look at his girlfriend with a broad smile.
Utahime smiled back. “Told ya.”
And the group of friends were greeted with the Getos’ presence, Haruhiro-san and Fujiko-san rushing to check on them and see if they were okay. They all chatted for a while, until the adults signed some documents—the Getos as Utahime’s temporary tutors—and the group was finally able to leave the station. Suguru’s parents would give Shoko the ride, and Satoru said he would drive Utahime home. As for Mochi, he would be returned to his dad the next day, as they agreed.
Each one bid their farewells, and Satoru let his mother know that his girlfriend would go with them in the car.
Honestly, he didn’t care if his mother liked it or not.
But Kaede’s silent disapproval thickened the air like smoke.
A dense fog of silence filled the Gojo car, making it impossible to ignore. Utahime sat beside Satoru in the backseat, her clothes still stiff with dried mud, sweat and small traces of her own blood. Kaede sat rigid in the front, like a marble statue holding itself together by will alone.
Looking through the window in utter silence, the girl bounced her leg with anxiety, pretty much aware of the woman’s attitude. But her boyfriend brushed her knuckles with his thumb in quiet support, never letting go of her.
When they arrived at her building, he stepped out with her. Kaede’s glare tracked them like a hawk after the girl got out to bow and say goodbye.
They crossed the street and stepped on the sidewalk, under a flickering streetlamp.
Utahime swallowed, letting go of Satoru’s hand, her eyes on the ground. “You shouldn’t have… I don’t want to cause you trouble.”
Stubborn and proud, Satoru grabbed her hand again, kissing her fingers. “You won’t.”
“But your mom…”
“Utahime, trouble is kind of the default with my mom. I don’t care what she thinks of us, you’re my girlfriend and she’ll have to get used to it.”
“I don’t even want to think of what she thinks of someone like me,” she said, her head down.
But Satoru was quick to place his fingers under her chin and make her lift her head.
“Hey, the only valid opinion here is mine. And I think you’re like, the best girl in the world, the only one who can deal with the great Gojo Satoru, clear?”
A small, exhausted laugh escaped her. Satoru smiled, brushing a thumb over the dirt smudged on her cheek. He leaned in to kiss her gently, grateful and aching, holding her in a long embrace that made her knees weak.
“Satoru, your mom is watching us,” she whispered when he pulled back.
He shrugged. “I know.”
“I hope you’re not kissing me to make her mad.”
“No. I’m kissing you because it’s been days since the last time, and I also want her to see what you mean to me.”
Utahime sighed, uncomfortable. “What if she hates me?”
“She hates everyone.”
“What if—”
“Utahime, no matter what she says or thinks, I won’t break up with you. I won’t lie to you about Kaede-san’s mindset, but I won’t let her mess with us either. It’s a promise.”
She bit her lip, hesitant. But then, she stood on tiptoes to leave a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Please, don’t argue with her over me.”
“I’ll argue with her over you and everything else. It’s always been like that.”
She felt disappointed. Not at him, but at the circumstances.
The girl brushed a strand of white hair from his forehead. “Cover your eyes as soon as you get home, or you’ll get a headache.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, easing the tension.
But feeling the oppressive weight of Kaede’s stiff and unreadable gaze on her, Utahime decided it was time to move away as she slowly let go of his embrace.
“Gotta go. I lost my keys back there and I need new ones.”
Satoru hummed, resigned. “See you tomorrow?”
She nodded and headed inside to request her new keys to the homeowner, glancing back once.
He went back to the car, his hands in his pockets. The moment Satoru closed the door, Kaede spoke.
“So this is what young people do now? Kissing on the streets like uncivilized children.” A pause, then venom. It was soft, but perfectly detectable. “Or is that something you learned from her?”
Satoru looked at her, his voice sharp like a whip. “If that makes me uncivilized, mother, then so be it.”
Kaede’s breath caught. Then, he continued, loud and clear.
“And if you think I’m going to let go of her just because you don’t approve or I’ll let you mistreat her, I’m afraid you’re in for a long, long disappointment, Kaede.”
Silence made its nest inside the car, settling on Kaede’s throat as she drowned herself in outrage, jaw tight and unable to reply. Because this time, her son wasn’t throwing a tantrum, nor bending. He wasn’t quiet. He wasn’t distant.
He was choosing.
And it terrified her even more than the kidnapping ever had.
Tokyo’s Family Court summoned the trial some days later by late April, postponing Satoru’s return to school.
As for Utahime, she still had some days left before the start of her first college year.
The offices had a strange smell, between old paper and polished wood, the quiet order of a system designed to be gentle and stern at the same time. Satoru and Utahime were guided through the halls by a court officer, and they sat side by side, brushing but not holding, palms sweating from the pressure of recounting the same nightmare over and over for days—first the police, then the investigators, then the forensic psychologists, and now, the judge who would decide their fates.
Instead of labeling it as a criminal trial, the court took it as a juvenile deposition: a protective measure and a chance to gather the truth under oath, considering first and foremost their age and trauma. But despite the gentle scheme, they still felt it merciless.
There was no jury. Only a few clerks, a judge with tired eyes and the official stenographer who typed like she was racing her own heartbeat. Satoru was the first to speak, and Utahime followed.
They described the fear, the warehouse and the escape. The hunger and the chain bruises, the way time bent around every hour of uncertainty. They described the kidnapper, and the moment the gun cracked in desperation, when survival and freedom looked like violence. The moment they learned that death could stop being a threat and became a consequence.
After that, they spoke of Zen’in Naoya.
And the mention was enough to make the air colder, given the political weight on that boy’s name. The internal reports already told the story of his involvement in the crime, but hearing it in the court still struck a nerve, enough to make the judge’s pen pause for a second, as if having here the very heir of the Gojo family wasn’t already a juridical ordeal.
Outside, journalists and paparazzi wanted a scandal. They had camped at every entrance, throwing theories like arrows about a spoiled rich kid killing a man, with his girlfriend as the accomplice. Gojo Kaede’s security staff moved them aside one by one, with the mechanical efficiency that came with money and practice. She had paid more than enough to keep this process and the trial unseen, unheard and unmarketable, enough to even patch up the leaks it could have in doing so. She would not allow her son to become a tabloid headline or a politician’s talking point.
Not again.
Inside the courtroom, the verdict came quietly: both teenagers were declared innocent, as for their actions were self-defense, and the kidnapping and attempted sexual assault were confirmed crimes. Their fear had been legitimate, their injuries sufficient proof, their testimonies consistent and aligned with the police investigation.
Fushiguro Toka’s statement also sealed everything.
Sat in the witness seat, with her hands folded neatly on her lap, she spoke of her late husband—the man that law had already labeled as one of the perpetrators. She did not defend him. She did not seek revenge, nor justice.
She simply told the truth.
He had been negligent, an absent parent who stole the few yen she could make to drown himself in gambling debts with the kind of men who didn’t send reminders twice.
Thus, she had seen his end approaching long before it claimed him.
And she had feared he would drag their children down unless something took him away first.
But now, for once, Tsumiki and Megumi would wake up the next day without the fear of living a troubled life.
The judge heard her, and it was enough to make him soften the verdict toward the teenagers.
Zen’in Naoya’s case followed in the same courtroom, although behind another closed door. He was processed as a minor, but his family would bend the system around him like metal under pressure. His relatives could whisper, plead or even argue, and rearrange every piece of influence and money they owned. But it wouldn’t be enough.
And Gojo Kaede would make sure of that. At least to make him serve his reformatory sentence, even if it was shorter than it should be, and ban his enrollment at the Sugawara Academy. She reminded the board of directors that the Gojo family held a significant portion of the school’s shares, and she would not tolerate a boy like Zen’in Naoya to sit in the same classrooms or breathe the same air as her son.
Naoya’s expulsion was announced the next morning.
And his family had to swallow the humiliation in silence. Although wealthy and powerful, the Zen’ins had never truly been a match for the Gojos.
Once the trial was over, Satoru walked out of the room with his shoulders straight but feeling hesitant, like someone who had crossed the threshold from something irreversible. He and Utahime had been cleared, the system had declared them innocent, but innocence didn’t wash away the memories pressed behind their ribs.
And as if the world wanted to test him further, he walked past Fushiguro Toka in the hallway, right before taking Utahime’s hand.
The woman greeted the girl and bowed to the boy, once and low, with the weight of someone who carried invisible scars. Her eyes looked tired, but serene. She was not grateful. Not apologetic, much less resentful.
She just felt… relieved.
Her children would no longer have to witness the wreckage of a shattered home. And for that alone, she hadn’t pressed charges. For that alone, she had spoken the truth even if it stripped her husband bare.
She was aware that survival came in different shapes, and none of them were simple.
That’s how Satoru offered himself to be the benefactor of the Fushiguro siblings, providing for their schooling and necessities. From then on, they’d have everything they needed or wanted, and their mother wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. They’d finish their Elementary years at the school they were currently enrolled in, and once before Middle, they’d be registered as students of the Sugawara Academy with full scholarship, so they could have the quality education they deserved.
It wasn’t a grand gesture or pity. It wasn’t guilt either. It was rather something quieter than all of that, like responsibility blooming where trauma had left its print.
All behind his mother’s back, of course. His mother’s fury would come late, sharp and predictable, but he didn’t care.
All he could see was the way Utahime looked at him with admiration, and her eyes full of something she hadn’t named yet, but screamed at him in silence, with the strength of a seawave.
He had survived. They all had.
And that survival had come with choices. Some of them loud, some of them quiet. Some others would echo long after the courthouse doors closed behind them.
This one would echo too.
“College suits you,” Shoko said, drinking from her cup of iced tea as she and Utahime sat on a bench shaped like a giant teacup. They had decided it was time to rest after riding the roller coaster, but the boys said they wanted to go for another round of games in the arcade room.
“You think so?” Utahime asked, sipping on her cup, her legs swinging softly. “One of my classmates said I still look like a high-schooler.”
Around them, the world was loud, busy, cheerful, but the bench shielded them from the noise. Children ran with balloons, and an announcer shouted the start of the ferris wheel ride.
“Screw them. I bet they all look old,” Shoko chirped, making her friend giggle. “Anyways, any cute boys at college?”
Utahime nearly dropped her bag of fried onions. “Shoko!”
“What? It’s not wrong to ask.”
“I haven’t noticed any,” Utahime replied, cheeks warming. “And I already have the most handsome boyfriend in the world, thank you.” A beat… “Don’t you dare tell him I said that!”
Shoko snorted. “I think I will absolutely tell him—”
“Shoko! Please…”
“Of course not! Just kidding,” Shoko sipped again, enjoying her friend’s brief distress. “I just can’t believe you haven’t scoped out yet.”
“You would?” Utahime opened her eyes wide.
“I mean, it’s not like I’ll cheat on Suguru, duh. I just like to enjoy the view sometimes. Or what, you think they don’t do it?”
Wincing in disagreement, the black-haired girl shook her head. “Satoru is too committed, too impassioned to be like that.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. I think you have the patience of a monk, because if Suguru were that overwhelming, I’d have dumped his ass.” They both giggled, with Shoko stretching her legs in front of her friend. “But seriously, how are you two? I mean, after… everything?”
Utahime quieted. The question had landed carefully, but it still stirred something inside her. “I guess… We’re okay,” she muttered. “Nightmares have whittled away by now, but sometimes we still remember things.”
Shoko nodded. “Yeah… I guess it doesn’t just go away in two months.”
“I’d like to make him feel better when that happens, but… I guess I’m just too coward—” Utahime went silent, as if she had let out some secret that mustn’t be revealed.
Her friend tilted her head. “A coward? What do you mean?”
The girl bit her lower lip, cheeks flushed, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket after leaving her iced tea unfinished. “Promise me you won’t laugh if I tell you?”
“Senpai, why would I laugh? Unless you tell me a good joke, of course, because you know I’m not that easy to entertain.”
Utahime chuckled nervously, averting her gaze from Shoko now. “I just don’t know how to start. This is embarrassing.”
“Well, just start. I’m all ears.” Shoko leaned back on the chair, sipping on her drink again.
Utahime sighed, words pressing at her like timid birds wanting out. “...I’ve been… feeling things. For a while now, actually.”
“Things?” Shoko said, confused. She blinked, once. Twice. “What do you—Oh… You mean… Those things? Like adult things?”
Utahime hid her face in her hands, nodding. “Yeah, but please don’t say it like that.”
“What? Being horny is perfectly normal. You’re nineteen and you have a boyfriend who is a goddamn pain in the ass but he also looks like a fallen angel and he knows it. Honestly, it stuns me you guys haven’t done it yet since you started dating.”
Utahime dropped her hands, but she didn’t dare to look her friend in the eye just yet. “No, I mean… We’ve kissed, like really hard. And sometimes when I’m alone, I think of him and I…”
Shoko arched an eyebrow, grinning and humming. “You touch yourself, don’t you?”
“Shoko!”
“That’s normal too! What’s the big deal?”
“I thought you’d be shocked!”
“Again, why would I? You think Suguru and I haven’t done it yet? Well, let me tell you we have, and plenty of times. And it’s awesome.” Shoko chuckled when she saw her friend squeeze her eyes shut with embarrassment. “My question is, why did you say you feel like a coward?”
It took Utahime some seconds to reply, but she took a breath and continued. “When we’re together… I wish… Good grief, how can I explain this.” The girl exhaled, frowning thoughtfully. “I want him to keep going, but then he stops and says we won’t have to do anything I don’t want and he doesn’t want to screw it up. And I really want more because I want to be with him, but at the same time I panic and I feel relieved because he never pushes me, and I wonder if I’m doing something wrong…”
Her words were so rushed that Shoko had to pay great attention to understand her entirely.
“I don’t think you’re a coward, much less that you’re doing something wrong,” Shoko reassured her. “And Gojo might be an idiot, but I know him since we walked in diapers, and he’s not the type to pressure someone he truly cares about. If he doesn’t push, it’s because he doesn’t want to, not because you’re screwing it or because he’s ‘being noble’.”
“What if I’m disappointing him? Maybe I’m—”
“Senpai,” Shoko cut her off. “Gojo once waited three hours in the middle of winter for a limited-edition kikufuku because he decided it was his calling. That moron is patient as hell when he wants something badly enough, even more than you. So trust me. Suguru and I can tell you he’s not suffering. Or… maybe he is? But not so desperately he can’t wait.”
Utahime giggled shortly. “You really think so?”
“I know so. Nothing about what’s happening to you is strange or shameful. And if you’re not really really ready to do anything yet, that’s fine too. It’s not like you’re running a race or something.”
Pondering over Shoko’s words, Utahime chewed on her lower lip. “Does it hurt?” She asked suddenly. “The first time?”
“Hmm, a little,” Shoko said, honestly, but calmly. “Mostly because I was nervous, and that makes it way harder to, you know,” she formed a circle shape with one hand and put another finger through the hole, sticking it in and out enough times to make her friend blush violently. “slip it inside.”
“Oh, goodness…”
“It depends on the person, the situation AND the boy. But if he’s gentle and cares about you, the pain will go away quickly.”
Utahime’s fingers tightened around the cup. “Do you think Satoru would be… gentle?”
Shoko let out a soft laugh. “He’d probably overthink it to death. I think he’d be terrified or hurting you, but he’d never tell you that, because he doesn’t want to scare you.”
Utahime smiled, biting her lip as she glanced at the arcade room door, catching a glimpse of her boyfriend’s back as he kept playing. “Well, that sounds like him.”
“We both know he’s an idiot, but he’s a good guy.”
They finished their drinks, the distant carousel music drifting faintly. Utahime spoke again, as if recalling something of a sudden.
“What if… I do something embarrassing? Like… a weird sound, or something worse.”
Shoko snorted, slurping the last drops of her iced tea through the straw. “You will absolutely do at least one embarrassing thing, and so will he. Sex is not supposed to be flawless, much less the first time. Suguru and I screwed it up many times until we figured it out, but it didn’t mean it was bad. It meant we were learning together.”
Utahime hummed, less shy now, but still overwhelmed by all the information her brain was processing.
“I’m sorry I’m asking you all this, Shoko.”
“What are you sorry for, senpai?”
The black-haired girl sighed, trying to find the right words. “That’s why. I’m your senpai, and I shouldn’t be forcing you to explain things I should know at my age. I just don’t have anyone else to talk about this but you.”
“Well, you’re nineteen, not ninety. This is not a contest about who does it first, okay? I just happened to have a boyfriend long before you and… Let’s say Suguru knew how to be persuasive without using his words.”
“Ugh. I didn’t have to know that,” Utahime complained. Both of them laughed.
“But, seriously,” Shoko continued. “Don’t push anything, don’t plan anything. You guys already survived the worst nightmare, and you’re allowed to take your time with the good things. Let the moment come on its own.”
Looking down again, the oldest girl swallowed before speaking. “I’m scared…” She admitted quietly. “Not of him. I’m just… I don’t want to ruin it. I’m scared of not knowing what to do, or disappointing him.”
Shoko’s voice softened. “And that’s normal too. Being scared only means you’ll care enough when the moment comes. Just don’t rush it. You’ll both know when it’s right. Your heart won’t let you miss it, and neither will his.”
Utahime closed her eyes for a second, breathing and letting the calm of the moment dissolve against all her internal struggles, those that still lingered under her skin.
“Thank you,” she whispered, closing her arms around her friend.
“That’s what best friends are for,” Shoko grinned, returning the hug briefly. “Now let’s go for these two dunces or they won’t leave the park.”
And Shoko was right.
She and Utahime practically had to drag them out of the arcade, even though one of them wouldn’t dare to look at her boyfriend for the rest of the evening.
Perhaps, talking about sex had been too, too much for a virgin like her.
Or perhaps not…
The snowfall on that December 7th had covered Tokyo under a curtain of white. White flecks settled on their sleeves as they left the yakitori restaurant near the Shibuya station, cheeks warm from dinner and joy, and a brief visit to the Fushiguro household to check on the kids, as they did every month thus far.
Gojo Satoru had chosen this moment with stubborn intentionality. This year, he wouldn’t let anyone decide what he wanted for his birthday, avoiding his mother’s vigilant and controlling presence, the gilded halls, photographers, and polite guests who cared more about the Gojo name than the boy who wore it.
This time, it’d be just them. His people. The family that had found him in all the ways that truly mattered.
Except Mochi, of course. He’d have loved bringing him with his gang, but the weather was too cold for him, and the pup would be better off at the daycare until the next day.
After dinner, they wandered through illuminated streets, the kind of lights that hung from poles like constellations within reach. Suguru carried Shoko on his back—she had said he was too warm to keep walking on her own—and Utahime walked beside Satoru, their hands tied and swinging as they strolled, in an unconscious rhythm of comfort and closeness.
It was a quiet night. A good one. So good that Satoru almost felt he had stolen it from someone else.
But the snowfall thickened, making the streetlamps glow with halos, and their footprints vanished seconds after forming. Clothes got damp and cheeks got red, and even Satoru’s hair mingled with the falling white until he looked like a winter ghost.
By the time they left the city center, the urban noise had softened a little around them.
Suguru and Shoko walked to the station entrance, huddled under Suguru’s shared umbrella.
“Happy birthday, dingus,” Shoko said, playfully kicking her friend’s calf. “Hope there’s many more to come.”
“Don’t become insufferable now that you’re eighteen,” Suguru added, making his girlfriend snort.
“More?”
“Hey! It’s my birthday. Stop bullying me!” Satoru protested, pouting. “Utahime, are you going to allow this?”
The girl giggled. “Well, they’re not wrong, though.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s leave Satoru alone,” Suguru continued, dapping his friend up as a farewell.
“Bye, guys. See you at school.” Satoru waved them goodbye, as did his girlfriend. They parted ways, and Satoru slipped his gloved hand into Utahime’s as they waited for the metro line that would take them to her campus. Once off, and every few meters, he pulled her close under a streetlamp, kissing her with the warmth of strawberry shortcake as the snow pooled at their ankles. And she, wholeheartedly, kissed him back, half-laughing, half-shivering.
When they finally reached the dorm building gates, his teasing had dwindled, and his jokes had softened. Something in him trembled—not visibly, but in the way he swayed on his heels instead of walking away with his usual confidence.
He kissed her cheek, letting go of her hand. “Well,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess this is—”
“Satoru.”
Her voice interrupted him softly. And her hand found his again.
“Do you wanna come in? It’s freezing and… It’s your birthday.”
The relief in his smile was noticeable, although he tried to hide it behind a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t want to go home.”
She smiled, tugging him inside. Their footprints trailed slush onto the polished floors of the women’s dormitory lobby, but no one was there to scold them. No one was anywhere. The building felt asleep.
Snow clung to their coats in melting crystals when they reached her dorm, slipping their shoes off at the entrance. Utahime went straight for the small heater by her desk.
“Let me turn it on before we freeze.”
Satoru stood awkwardly near the door, glancing at her bookshelf, filled with books and girly stuff; the neat stacks of sheet music, the TV he had given her on her last birthday, the Yamaha keyboard in a corner and the poster above her bed, as warmth began spreading through her tiny room and he had to take his foggy glasses off.
He’d been here before—many times since she started college—but tonight the air felt different, as if the snowfall had peeled away a layer of untold need they’d both been carrying.
She took off her scarf first, shaking the snow off. Then her gloves, her pom pom beanie, and her long coat.
He did the same, hanging their outer layers on the same hook, standing closer than they needed to.
For the first time, their proximity felt awkward. There was a waiting, a knowing… A quiet gravity that pulled them toward a moment they didn’t know how to shape yet.
“I’ve always liked your room, you know,” he said, attempting to ease the tension. “It’s so… you.”
The girl chuckled shyly, walking to the small mirror beside her bed. He didn’t see it, deliberately distracting himself by running his eyes over the whole room, but she looked at him through the mirror, wondering if this could be the night she had been waiting for.
Something in her bubbled up, guiding her thoughts and movements so subtly she didn’t even notice the moment her fingertips tried to graze the back zipper of the dress she had chosen so carefully that morning.
He had said it reminded him of last year, of the night they first kissed at the rooftop overlook of his house.
Exactly one year ago.
Her voice came out soft, almost swallowed by the heater’s tiny rumble.
“Satoru?” She called him, taking him out of his intentional self-absorption.
“Hmm?”
“Can you… help me with this, please?”
He looked up.
She had her back turned to him, the zipper just out of her reach, and their eyes finally meeting through the reflection in the mirror.
“Huh?”
“My zipper…” She explained. “I can’t reach it.”
She knew what she was asking, and the weight of it, but she wanted it—wanted him—tonight. And with the way he was looking at her, she felt bold, or at least bold enough to try.
For a second, for a single suspended heartbeat, Satoru didn’t move. He didn’t breathe, either.
Warmth gathered slowly and timidly between them, against the cold, against the tremor of anticipation.
Satoru stepped closer. Closer still.
Close enough to smell the delicate strawberry sweetness her shampoo had left on her hair.
“Yeah,” he whispered. His fingers trembled once he steadied them. “Of course.”
He drew the zipper inch by inch, revealing the soft line of her spine, and the clasp of a simple white bra, her breath hitching at the cold air. She clutched the front to keep it from falling, her heart racing, but she didn’t pull away. His fingers grazed at the base of her spine and she shivered, not from the cold now, but from the warmth of his touch.
She turned around to face him, catching the way his eyes darkened at the sight, but tempered with something gentler.
“You’re beautiful, Utahime. Did you know that?” He said, almost in a whisper, nudging her burning cheeks with his knuckles.
And she stepped closer, letting the dress slip to the floor and pool around her feet. She was left in nothing but her pale-pink cotton panties and her two low pigtails.
Open-mouthed, he stared at her, strangling a sound in his throat that was half-groan, half-prayer.
Blushing crimson, Utahime took his hands and placed them over her bare waist. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but his gaze, somehow, made her feel braver.
She reached for him, her fingers trembling as they tugged at his hoodie, and he helped her pull it off, revealing a fitted t-shirt that clung to his chest and outlined the lean muscle beneath.
Satoru cupped her face, leaning in to kiss her a little deeper than the other kisses he had given her through the night, and a little less hesitant. She pressed herself closer, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric. His fingers traced the curve of her hips, soft but certain and reverent, like she was made of starlight, and she gasped weakly into his lips, her body responding with a fever she had never known.
They moved to the bed without breaking the kiss, the mattress creaking under their weight as they sat and lay down, shedding his t-shirt. But then, he pulled back just enough to look at her with adoration, his hand still worshipping all the spots on her skin he had just discovered.
“Hime,” he said, his voice low and strained with restraint. “We don’t have to… Not tonight if you’re not ready.”
He had wanted her for so long… But he knew she was new to this, and how much this moment meant. He wouldn’t let his 18th birthday or the heat of the moment push them past what she was ready for.
And she saw the conflict in his eyes—need warring with care.
But Utahime never pulled away, closing her hands around his face, trembling yet tenderly. “I want to,” she whispered, her breath shaky. “I want you, Satoru… I’m ready.”
She had never been more certain, and the intimacy they shared made it feel like a moment they were meant to live.
He grabbed her wrist softly, taking her fingers to his mouth to leave a trail of kisses before speaking again, needing to know she wasn’t just caught up in the moment, searching for any flicker of doubt. “You sure?”
And the girl replied with a nod, leaning in to kiss him, softer this time, the prelude of a promise. Satoru exhaled, a mix of relief and want, and pulled her closer, guiding her to lie back on the bed with careful hands that found the rim of her panties and rolled them all the way down her legs as he kissed her neck, her collarbone. She helped him with his pants too, slowly shedding the last of their clothes until it was just them, skin to skin, their warmth chasing away the chill.
Satoru’s hands were gentle, exploring and learning her in a way that felt sacred and made her feel cherished. Her hands mirrored his, memorizing the lines of his shoulders and the muscles of his back, grounding herself in the feel of him. Their kisses deepened as they aligned on the bed and he moved his fingers to her breasts, tasting the softness of her flesh, the life in her body, the sighs from her lungs. He had never touched her like this, he had never drawn the lines of her frame so his memory could grasp every corner, every reaction.
With his hand resting on her thigh, he paused. “If you need to stop, you can tell me, okay?” And his voice was firm, but soft: a vow he made for her to know he was here for her, not just for himself.
He had always been laidback and playful, usually teasing his girlfriend over the simplest things to get on her nerves. But tonight, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t even feel confident or carefree now, utterly wrecked by her vulnerability, her nakedness—a fallen angel stripped of her wings.
He thought he could break her by only staring at her.
She looked so fragile, in a way that he doubted if touching her was okay and made him hold his breath.
But Utahime nodded again, her breath hitching, with nerves and anticipation swirling in his chest and her trust in him outweighing the butterflies in her stomach, escaping with every exhale. He spent what felt like hours making sure she was comfortable, starting a trail of wet kisses that began in her mouth and traveled down to her throat and her breasts, eager to head south. But before he could plant the first kiss between her legs, she pulled on his hair and brought him back to her, leaving a space so he could settle over her, lacing his hands with hers above her head.
“Please,” she breathed. “I want you here.”
And he obeyed, his smile so tender she felt like melting, feeling him make a home between her thighs, his hardness blunt and hot enough to tear a shy gasp off her throat, even before he could enter her.
She knew that, as a virgin, there might have been some discomfort, and pain even, but she trusted Satoru enough to make it okay.
The girl moaned with pleasure, feeling his tip brushing her folds and her clit. Her insides clutched and drooled, the slick softening his motions and enhancing their sensations as both of them shivered.
Little did she know how hard the battle he waged against himself was, torn between a violent, long contained need, and his wish to protect her forever.
“Breathe with me…” His voice was a low hum, strangled by the fire that consumed his core.
But looking right into her honeyed-eyes was all he needed to soothe himself. It was like the sun thawing into ocean water; like the brightest day deliquescing into a vibrant night to give way to a warm yet electrifying sunset.
Utahime sighed jitterily. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
Sucking on her lower lip, Satoru shook his head. “Never. Not for one heartbeat.”
She let go of his hands to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close, feeling how he finally pushed inside her slowly, watching her face for every flicker. There was a moment of pressure, followed by a sting, sharp enough to make her gasp, whimper, and dig her nails into his shoulders and squeeze her eyes shut, her mouth agape. The pain was real, a burning stretch as her body adjusted to the unfamiliar intrusion.
Instantly, Satoru froze, his eyes wide with concern.
“Hime?” He remained still, overwhelmed with desire as her reluctant walls fluttered around him, swallowing him tight. “Shit… Do you want me to pull out?”
She took a breath, a few tears slipping free as she shook her head and pulled him closer. “Just…” Her voice was a thin thread that forced her to clear her throat. “Don’t move yet, please.”
His mouth found hers, soft like velvet, warm, captivating. She kissed him back, her body trembling as she allowed his whole length to shape her insides, breathing together. Once their mouths parted, neither of them could look away from each other.
“If it hurts too much—”
“It’s okay… I just need some time.”
Satoru nodded, kissing her tenderly, lips brushing her temples to wipe away the ghost of the tears that had slid down her hair. Her forehead came after, then her nose and cheeks, grounding her in the moment as her body began to relax and the pain slowly eased into a warm connection that felt deeper than she expected.
It still felt messy, awkward as they started finding their own rhythm. But Satoru allowed his little experience to lead the way despite his anxiety, and her instincts build the foundations of their frenzy.
Impulsively, her hands slid down his back, urging him impossibly closer. The pain ebbed without pressure—it took them some minutes—and she moved first with a tiny roll of her hips. It was almost imperceptible, but so overwhelming for him that he groaned before starting to move with slow, careful and deep strokes that made the headboard tap lazily against the wall.
The way she clenched around him, the tightness of her body tore a groan out of him, reviving his worst nightmare.
Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to come so early and disappoint her. He wanted to make it right, he wanted it to be special for the two of them, not like this.
But then, she winced again, and her pain was the reminder he needed to breathe and chase his quick release away.
Satoru stilled for the second time, and she blinked away the tears that welled. “Don’t stop,” she gasped bravely, finding comfort in the love she saw in his gaze.
“I’ve got you.” He let her adjust, his body shaking. The pleasure of being inside her was still shattering, a rush that made his head spin. But he fought it, for his love for her was stronger than his own need. He tested and learned every reaction, every sigh, every nuance on her expression that changed so subtly and deliciously and washed over him like a blessing.
Utahime exhaled, her body relaxing as her initial pain faded to a dull ache. She knew it was just a way, an ephemeral bridge she had to cross if she wanted to be completely his. The blue of his eyes remained locked on the honey-brown in hers, watching for any sign of discomfort, but holding her like she was the only thing in the world. She felt a spark of pleasure, tentative but real, her body finally responding; a tingling that built with every gentle thrust, making her feel alive, happily broken.
“Is it better now?” He dared to ask against her lips, his thumb now tracing the lines her tears had left and brushing all the way to her flushed cheeks, forehead against forehead. Her fingers dug into his flesh on his back, pressing after every push that subdued her discomfort.
And when she nodded, he could feel one of her hands landing on his face to let her fingers rest smoothly against his cheek, imitating him. Her chest heaved against his, her nipples hard as a reminder that she felt him too, that his touch ignited her as much as hers did to him. His fingers moved to one of them, brushing, and the moan that escaped her throat was so powerful he felt it in his guts, and her relentless squeezing almost drove him to the edge.
His restraint became palpable. His body trembled with the urge to move faster, to chase the ecstasy that built within him. Satoru had never felt this before—not just the physical intensity, but the emotional weight of being with the girl he loved and trusted him completely. His head fell on her shoulder, mouth close to her ear. A soft moan left him as he moved, with his breath so ragged it made her hips jerk upward and her heart beat faster.
“You feel so perfect, Hime…” He whispered against her ear, his voice breaking, searching for her fingers again to lace their hands together. “You’re so beautiful I feel I might die tonight.”
“Ah… Satoru,” she cried, her heart swelling at his words. She reached for his face and he came to her again, their gazes meeting for the umpteenth time and the tap of the headboard matching the fervor of their heartbeats. “I’m yours.”
“I’m yours too,” he breathed with a smile, captivated by the way her arms closed around his torso, and the taste of her lips as she kissed him. “I love you, Utahime. You’re my everything.”
His words were unguarded, truer than oxygen, and they settled into her like warmth after winter.
Perhaps that was all she needed to undo him with the way her eyes held him. Perhaps it was all she needed to shift beneath him with a quiet, breathy sound that sent a shock through him so sudden he clenched her hand tighter. It made his chest clutch, as though his heart were trying to break free and press itself into her hands.
And she didn’t mind the scraps of pain that still lingered between her legs, but she moved a little, memorizing the feel of him inside her and seeking closeness. His breath hitched, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder, defeated.
But he didn’t want this to end. Not yet.
Not without showing her how they both could reach the stars in the firmament and die in the process, only to come back alive.
So he moved his hand between them, reaching for that spot she had touched so many times before at the thought of him. He wanted her to succumb with him, smiling at the loud whine she gave him when his finger started fondling her, his thrusts growing a little certain and less shy, erasing the traces of pain that his intrusion had left in her.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, urging him back to her for a kiss, her other hand leaving scarlet crescents on his back that would fade into scratches soon, the same way her orgasm started bubbling. She cried of pleasure in his mouth, his name a tender litany, and when she finally exploded, her whole body shuddered and clutched him, warm and overwhelming, full of a joy so sharp it almost hurt, neatly shattering her into pieces that only he could gather and mend.
When she finally opened her eyes, she looked at him with a softness he had never earned but would spend his life trying to.
“Hime…” His voice was almost a plea. And she could feel it, the way he tried to steady himself and every bit of restraint frayed under the weight of what she had given him.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m with you.”
Something inside him broke at that.
And Satoru felt it rising in him in a wave he couldn’t hold much longer, wild, irrepressible and boisterous, something that made him bury his face against her cheek as if the fervor alone might undo him. His movements faltered, and his body shook as he reached his peak with a low, guttural moan spilling from his lips the moment he came inside her at last, powerful, plentiful. His entire body trembled with the release he had been holding for so long, and his arms nearly gave out as he braced himself above her.
He had never known anything so close to perfect.
Her walls still fluttered around him when her hands found his face, her fingers gentle on her cheeks, soothing him through the aftershocks. Their bodies glistened with sweatdrops and their hearts raced inside when Satoru met her eyes with something new in his gaze—love, yes, but also awe, like he was seeing her for the first time again. He kissed her softly, and she felt that spark of pleasure again, enough to make her body hum and resonate, and her hips shift intuitively toward him.
They kissed for a while more, hands still exploring and recognizing each other. Satoru never pulled out but rolled them gently instead, still connected, arms wrapped tight around her back.
Outside, the snow kept falling, blanketing the world in hush. Her head rested on his chest, with the faint sting and stickiness between her legs now overshadowed by the warmth of his arms around her and the patterns his fingers traded lazily on her back.
“You okay, Hime?” He asked, his voice a little shaky yet soft.
She nodded, with a shy smile curving her lips. “Yeah… More than okay.” Her voice is quiet, but there was a trust in it that this moment, painful and sweaty, pleasant and perfect, was only theirs. And no one would ever take that away.
He pressed a kiss to her hair, tightening his arms around them. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” She asked, tucked within his embrace.
“For trusting me.”
It was raw, honest. A confession of how much she meant to him.
Her heart swelled with adoration, and she took a breath before replying. “Satoru?”
“Yes?”
A heartbeat. Then two.
“I love you too.”
His heart skipped a beat now, and then drummed erratic, as if trying to burst in his chest.
Then, she tilted her head to meet his gaze, her bangs falling to each side of her face and their eyes locking once more as if chanting a silent promise. “Happy birthday,” she continued, and he laughed with a quivery, joyful sound.
“Best birthday ever,” he replied, and they lay there, with the silence around as their soundtrack, her bed as their nest, and their love pounding stronger than before.