Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A light drizzle fell that afternoon on the wide courtyard of the Gojo family estate. Kyoto, usually warm and bright, felt unusually somber and cold, as if the weather itself marked the beginning of a story between two children whose lives would one day be tied together in ways they could never imagine.

Gojo Satoru, a white-haired boy with oversized sunglasses perched on his small face, sat on the veranda, glaring at a comic book he probably wasn’t even reading properly. Even at that age, he was known for being aloof. Quiet, distant, rarely showing expressions others could read. He preferred solitude over joining his cousins’ games.

On the other hand, Iori Utahime came running, her dark-purple hair tied into twin tails that bounced with her steps. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling. Unlike her cousin, Utahime was known for her warmth. Every adult who greeted her got a sweet reply. She was talkative, cheerful, and always tried to approach Satoru, who seemed uninterested in playing with anyone.

“Gojo-kun, let’s play hide and seek!” Utahime chirped brightly, running up to him.

The white-haired boy only shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the comic. “I don’t like that kind of game,” he said flatly.

Utahime pouted, still trying to coax him. “You’re so cold! You just read all the time. Come on, just once!”

Satoru finally looked up. His bright blue eyes were piercing, even back then, they seemed more empty than mischievous. “If you want to play, play on your own. I don’t need a friend,” he said curtly.

The words were sharp, enough to snuff out Utahime’s cheerful mood in an instant. From that day forward, while she remained warm with others, her emotions surfaced much more easily when it came to Satoru. She got irritated quickly, snapped often, and somehow could never act gentle around him. But that didn’t mean she gave up trying. The more he brushed her off, the more determined she became to prove she wouldn’t be ignored.

Days turned into months, months into years. Their families often gathered for tradition and business, which meant Utahime and Satoru inevitably saw each other. Strangely, though he resisted at first, Satoru began to change.

By the time he was eleven, the once indifferent boy had become clingy. He insisted on sticking close to Utahime, following her wherever she went, as if he’d found something he had been missing. If she was chatting with their cousins, he would interrupt with some annoying remark. If she was studying in a corner, he would sit right beside her until she lost her patience.

“Why can’t you just stay away for once?” Utahime snapped one day.

Satoru only grinned, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Nope. I want to see that angry face of yours,” he teased.

And so their dynamic took shape. Utahime, once sweet and easygoing, grew quick-tempered when it came to Satoru. Meanwhile, Satoru, aloof to everyone else, turned playful and persistent whenever he was with her.

Their closeness didn’t escape notice. Both families held on to strict traditions, and by the time they were teenagers, whispers of an arranged marriage began to surface. To outsiders, marrying cousins might sound strange. But to their families, binding Satoru and Utahime together was perfectly normal. They were only distant cousins, and marriage was seen as a way to keep family ties strong.

Utahime bristled at the idea. She was still in high school, still figuring herself out. Marriage was the last thing on her mind—especially to Satoru, who annoyed her every single day.

“I’m still in high school! I’m not thinking about marriage!” she protested.

Satoru wasn’t thrilled either. “I don’t love her,” he muttered lazily to his father one night.

And yet, ironically, after the arrangement was decided, Satoru clung to Utahime more than ever. He teased her constantly, calling her “the future mother of my children” in front of relatives, which always made her explode.

“Stop saying that! We’re not even sure we’ll get married!” she shouted one day.

But fate moved according to their families’ will. Right after high school, at the age of nineteen, they were married in a small ceremony attended only by relatives. No grand celebration. The outside world remained unaware. To their friends, Satoru and Utahime were simply distant cousins living together to save on rent while in college.

For Utahime, it was strange. Living under the same roof with Satoru meant putting up with his annoying habits every single day. He left the lights on, scattered his belongings everywhere, and wore the same clothes repeatedly.

But underneath all that, Satoru revealed another side. Despite being irritating, he was always the first to be there for her. He drove her around, made sure she ate, and sometimes quietly bought things she needed without being asked. His clinginess never faded, and without realizing it, Utahime always came first to him.

Utahime, however, remained stubborn. Perfectionist, disciplined, never able to relax when he slacked off. She worked hard to hide their marriage from their peers.

By their fifth semester, Satoru had his own circle of friends in engineering: Geto Suguru, calm and steady; Nanami Kento, serious and dependable; Haibara Yū, cheerful; Chōso, reserved; and Kusakabe Atsuya, often the butt of their jokes. They often hung out at Satoru and Utahime’s house on weekends, turning it into their base.

Meanwhile, Utahime studied in the education faculty. Her group of friends was just as colorful—Mei Mei from economics, sharp and mysterious; Ieri Shoko from medicine, laid-back; and Tsukumo Yuki from law, outspoken and full of energy. Among them, only Shoko knew a small secret, Yuki was quietly harboring feelings for Satoru.

There was also Amanai Riko, a sweet underclassman who openly admired Satoru. Everyone noticed, except Utahime and Satoru themselves.

Their daily life was a play. To their friends, they were just cousins sharing a house. Behind closed doors, they were a young married couple still figuring each other out.

Sometimes, Utahime wondered, did she really not love Satoru? Or had those feelings grown quietly, hidden beneath all their bickering?

Satoru, though rarely serious, understood himself well enough. He could never stay away from her. Even when met with her constant glare, part of him was always at peace, simply because she was there.

And so began the story of two distant cousins, from childhood rivals, to stubborn teenagers, to a secret married couple.

They had no idea what awaited them, friendships, quiet jealousy, and secrets that would slowly come to light.

Gojo Satoru and Iori Utahime’s life together might be full of squabbles, but one thing was certain—it would never be boring.

Chapter Text

The phone alarm on the nightstand had been ringing since seven in the morning. That monotonous beep beep filled the room, but its owner still lay sprawled in bed. Gojo Satoru, a fifth-semester engineering student infamous for being laid-back—or rather, lazy—hadn’t moved an inch. He remained comfortably curled up under the thick blanket, half his face buried under a pillow, breathing like someone with absolutely nothing to worry about.

Unlike her husband, Utahime had been up for half an hour already. Her long hair was tied back loosely, her face fresh with a thin layer of skincare, and her clothes neat as usual. She stood in front of the bed with her arms crossed, glaring at the tall man who was still sleeping as if he were hibernating. If it weren’t for that one thing—her husband refusing to wake up—she would have already been sitting in the living room sipping tea.

“…Satoru.”

Her voice was firm, but it was ignored. He didn’t even twitch. Utahime huffed.

“Satoru!” she called again. Loud enough that their neighbors might have heard, but apparently not loud enough to rouse the man who slept like a rock.

She moved closer, yanked at the blanket, and smacked his arm. “Get up. We both have class at nine, remember? I’m not going to be late because of you.”

Satoru only mumbled something incoherent, like “mmmph,” which wasn’t an answer at all.

“Don’t pretend to be asleep!” Utahime tapped his cheek lightly, still holding back her temper. But when he simply rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head, her patience snapped.

“Satoru!” she barked. “I’m counting to three. One…”

The blanket shifted.

“Two…” A small movement. Maybe he was starting to wake up.

“Three!” Utahime yanked the blanket away with force. Cold air rushed over his tall body, making him curl up. His messy white hair stuck to his face, his eyes barely open, and he looked at his wife with the blank expression of someone dragged out of a dream. Satoru hugged a body pillow instead and spoke with a hoarse, irritatingly lazy voice.

“Five more minutes, Hime…” His voice was rough from sleep. “Why’re you being so loud in the morning…”

“Five minutes my ass! I’ve been waking you up forever and you keep saying that. Why are you so impossible to wake up?!” Utahime snapped back. “Do you even realize what time it is? We’re in college, not kids who can just skip class whenever we want!”

Satoru glanced at the wall clock and yawned wide. “Relax. It’s only half past seven. We still got an hour and a half," he said. “Skipping one day won’t make the world end,” he added, stretching lazily, which only fueled Utahime’s irritation.

“Yeah, that’s if you can get ready in five seconds! But you take forever. Showering takes forever, picking clothes takes forever, plus all your nonsense. I’m not getting marked late because of you!” She yanked the pillow off his face and tossed it to the floor.

With a long sigh, Satoru finally sat up on the edge of the bed, his blue eyes blinking drowsily under his messy hair. He stared blankly at the ceiling, like he needed extra time to gather his soul back from dreamland.

Utahime stood by the bed with her hands on her hips, ready to lecture him again. “Don’t just sit there spacing out. Go shower.”

“I just woke up, Hime…” Satoru turned his head slowly, still half-asleep. “Can’t I at least reflect on  life for five minutes?”

“Reflect your ass.” Utahime tugged the rest of the blanket off his legs. “Move, Satoru. You’re always the reason we nearly end up late.”

His ears already ringing from her scolding, Satoru gave in. He got up, trudged to the closet, and pulled out a fresh towel. A habit he had picked up since marrying Utahime—his cousin and now his wife—who was absolutely against reusing a towel for more than a week.

“Don’t use the towel you threw around yesterday!” Utahime called while fixing the bed. “If it’s wet, toss it in the washer. Don’t leave it lying around on the sofa or hanging behind the door. It’ll stink, you know!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t just ‘yeah, yeah.’ Do it.”

Satoru turned to glance at her. “God, you’re such a perfectionist. Even making the bed like it’s an art project. We’re just gonna mess it up again tonight.”

Utahime glared. “If you hate neatness, go sleep outside.”

“Okay, okay, I’m showering.” And he darted into the bathroom.

The door closed, leaving Utahime still muttering while folding the blanket. The sound of the shower started, followed occasionally by Satoru’s voice.

“Hime, where’s my face wash?!”

“On the right shelf, second row!” she yelled back. “And don’t spill it everywhere like last time. If it gets on the floor, it’ll be slippery!”

“Every morning feels like a military briefing…” Satoru grumbled from inside.

Utahime heard him, but ignored it, her hands busy tidying the bed and stacking the pillows neatly. She was a perfectionist, and Satoru had known that for years.

***

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Satoru came out with damp hair, steam still clinging to his body, a towel draped casually around his shoulders. He paused, carefully wiped his feet on the mat, then slipped into cartoon-print house slippers—not because he liked them, but because he knew if he left wet footprints, Utahime would start again.

“Happy now?” he teased as he walked out.

“If you keep listening like this, then yes, I can relax.” Utahime didn’t look up, still tidying his study desk. She had already laid out his clothes on the bed. “Wear the ones I put out. Not that same black t-shirt again.”

Satoru, who had been about to head to the closet, stopped. He eyed the neatly folded pile—clean white t-shirt, light denim jacket, and black pants—already prepared on the bed.

“But Hime, you know I like that black shirt…” he whined.

“It’s ripped at the hem. You wanna look like a bum in class?”

He raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, boss.”

And so he changed into the outfit she chose. He looked neat and simple—definitely not his style if left on his own.

“Why don’t you just be a fashion stylist?” he muttered while putting the shirt on. Utahime was stuffing books into her bag.

“Because unfortunately, I ended up marrying a child like you first.”

Satoru chuckled. “You’re calling me a child? Hey, we’re the same age.”

“Your age and height grew, but your maturity didn’t.”

Once dressed, Satoru followed Utahime out of the bedroom, checking through his bag.

“Hey, do we have breakfast? I’m starving.”

“No,” Utahime said flatly.

“What? Come on, I’m hungry.”

“Eat later. I packed you a bento. Don’t whine. You can eat it on campus.”

Satoru stared at her. “Did you eat already?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t wait for me? Cruel!”

“Well, whose fault is it that you’re impossible to wake up? Don’t blame me. If you’d gotten up earlier, we could’ve eaten together. But you keep staying out late, so of course it’s hard to get you up.”

Satoru’s smile faded. “I just hang out with friends. It’s not even every night.”

“Not every night? More like almost every night. Either here or at Suguru’s dorm. I used to wait up until I got too sleepy. Now I don’t bother anymore,” Utahime said coldly.

Satoru clicked his tongue. “I’m a guy, it’s normal to hang out. I need to relax too.”

“And I’m just supposed to accept that?” She crossed her arms. “I’m in college too, I get tired too, but I still take care of the house. Meanwhile you just lounge around.”

He looked annoyed. “Well, you’re the one who’s so uptight. If the place is a little messy, who cares? I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re a guy. But if someone comes over and sees this place looking like a disaster, guess who they’ll blame? Me.”

“People won’t care, Hime.”

“Maybe not to you. But to me, it matters!”

The air between them grew tense. They stood there, glaring at each other, both stubborn as ever.

Finally, Satoru let out a long sigh, deciding to back down. “Fine, fine. Let’s go before we actually end up late.”

***

A few minutes later, they finally left the house. Normally they’d use the small white car his parents had given him. Utahime liked that better since she didn’t have to worry about her face and hair getting ruined by dust. But this morning, afraid of being late, they had no choice but to take Satoru’s motorbike. Utahime hated it, but there was no time to argue.

“Hop on. Otherwise, we’re really gonna be late.” He strapped on his helmet, handing the spare to Utahime.

She clicked her tongue but took it, securing it quickly on her head. Reluctantly, she climbed on behind him, sitting sideways with a scowl, while Satoru smirked at the sight of her reflection in the mirror.

At first she kept her distance, but when the engine roared and the bike picked up speed, Utahime instinctively grabbed the seat. Satoru grinned.

“Better hold on properly, or you’ll fall.”

“I can handle myself!” she snapped.

The ride was quiet after that, only the morning wind and engine noise filling the silence. But Satoru, feeling mischievous, started picking up speed. Sure enough, Utahime yelped and clutched at his waist., Satoru!”

Instead of slowing, he went faster.

“SA-TO-RU!!”

He only chuckled, though his eyes stayed on the road.

“Told you. If you want to be safe, hold onto me tight.”

“Don’t make me regret getting on this thing with you.”

Despite her protests, Utahime stayed hugging him tightly. Behind his helmet, Satoru grinned, secretly pleased that she was clinging to him.

When they finally arrived at campus—specifically, when Satoru parked in front of the Faculty of Education—Utahime immediately got off and stormed toward the building without looking back. They had arrived fifteen minutes before class.

“I’ll go first,” she said curtly before disappearing inside.

“Eh, Hime, wait!” Satoru called, pulling off his helmet. But she didn’t even turn around.

“…Still mad, huh.”

He sighed, then put his helmet back on, riding off toward the engineering building across from hers. Just another morning spat between them, one of many. And yet, somehow, to Satoru, every little fight like this felt… kind of fun.