Chapter Text
—————
Show me you're shameless.
Write it on my neck, why don't ya?
And I won't erase it.
—————
Gojo had to admit that the instant he saw her surrounded by them, something inside him snapped. He wanted nothing more than to pull her away from the group and lock her inside his office until she learned not to provoke him—specially after that little smirk she had given him.
She should be grateful there were other people around.
He had been in a foul mood ever since yesterday. He had genuinely believed that his coldness would eventually wear her down—that she would grow tired of being ignored, feel guilty, seek his affection, perhaps even become jealous enough to come crawling back.
Instead, what did he get?
Her happily allowing herself to be surrounded by other men.
Since when had she become so bold? She should have known better than to rile him up.
“I got promoted to become the coach for the national basketball team,” Nakamura-sensei explained. “And Gojo has been an excellent player since high school. He even had the opportunity to compete while he was overseas.”
Utahime stared down with narrowed eyes. How had she never known any of this?
“I personally asked him to become the coach for this school year.” Nakamura patted Gojo firmly on the back. “So, please, behave yourselves! Don't forget that he can kick you out of this school if you do something wrong!” he joked, throwing his head back with a booming laugh.
Gojo merely chuckled, the smugness on his face never fading.
“Everyone!” Choso called out once again.
The entire team straightened.
“Let's welcome Gojo-sensei as our new coach!”
“Welcome, Gojo-sensei!”
“Please take care of us!”
They bowed in unison.
Utahime almost forgot to move. She quickly followed suit, lowering her head with the rest of them. From beneath her lashes, she stole a glance at Gojo. He was already looking directly at her. A smug smirk tugged at his lips before he replaced it with a pleasant smile.
“Thank you!” he said cheerfully. “Let's all work hard together and make this school year...”
His eyes deliberately settled on Utahime.
“...memorable.”
Utahime wanted to bang her head against her desk.
She hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. Most of the night had been spent staring at the ceiling, turning over one disastrous possibility after another now that Gojo was officially her coach. Every time she thought she had found a solution, another complication seemed to emerge.
She was going to back out.
That was it.
She would simply tell Nakamura-sensei that she had changed her mind and no longer wanted the position. She was awkward enough around boys as it was. There was absolutely no reason to voluntarily place herself under Gojo's supervision on top of that.
“Congratulations!”
Riko's hands suddenly landed on her shoulders and gave them an enthusiastic shake. Utahime could only groan, forcing herself to sit upright before her head actually fell onto the desk.
“I knew you would be chosen!” Riko said brightly. “I listed all your achievements there!” She gave her a proud little wink.
Utahime's eyelid twitched.
Of course she did.
“And~” Riko dragged the word out as she dropped into the seat across from her. Her eyebrows began wiggling mischievously. “You'll be working with Gojo-sensei too!”
Utahime hadn't even realized she had begun pouting until she saw Riko's expression slowly change.
The teasing smile disappeared.
“What? You two are still at it?”
Utahime said nothing. She merely crossed her arms and turned her face away, staring stubbornly at the opposite wall.
Riko sighed.
Whatever had happened between those two was clearly beyond anything she could fix with a simple conversation.
She stood and began gathering her things.
“Come on. Let's go. I'm starving.”
They headed toward the cafeteria together, but Utahime remained unusually quiet the entire way. Her steps lacked their usual lightness, and every now and then she would let out a quiet sigh as though the mere thought of returning to the basketball court was exhausting her already.
Riko wisely left her alone. She gave her the space she seemed to need, hoping that whatever was troubling her wasn't quite as catastrophic as her expression suggested.
They had barely stepped into the cafeteria when a male voice called from behind them.
“Oi! Iori-senpai!”
Both girls stopped.
Utahime turned around.
Two boys were approaching them.
One of them was immediately familiar.
Haruki.
The other was a tall blond whom Utahime vaguely recognized from the basketball team. She squinted at him for a moment, mentally searching through the faces she had been introduced to the previous day.
Ah.
One of the players.
The blond boy lifted a hand in an enthusiastic wave as they approached. Riko subtly nudged Utahime with her elbow, giving her a knowing look that Utahime pretended not to notice.
“I guess you forgot about us,” the blond boy said, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. Haruki, by comparison, looked completely unbothered. His hands remained tucked casually in his pockets, his expression as indifferent as it had been when she first met him.
“I'm Sakamoto Yuto,” the blond introduced himself. He gestured toward his companion. “And this is Fujimoto Haruki. We're both second-year BS-IT students.”
He smiled brightly while Haruki merely gave a small nod.
Utahime returned the gesture with a shy smile.
“I'm sorry. I haven't received the players' profiles from Ren-senpai yet.”
“That's fine!” Yuto waved away her apology almost immediately. Then he noticed Riko.
“Oh, hello, Riko-senpai!”
He gave her a polite bow. Haruki followed with a quieter one.
“You guys getting lunch?”
Both girls nodded.
The four of them entered the cafeteria together, weaving through the tables as they chatted. Utahime couldn't help noticing that although Haruki apparently knew she was his senior, he had never addressed her as one during their first encounter. Even now, he seemed strangely reluctant to speak.
He was such a peculiar person.
They eventually bought their food and settled at one of the tables with their crepes.
“We all play together every Thursday afternoon,” Yuto explained. “That's when everyone's vacant, so it's basically our regular practice time.” He leaned forward slightly. “If you want, you can come watch us. It'll help you get to know everyone.”
Utahime nodded politely.
“That would be nice.”
Then she remembered—she was planning to quit.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her crepe.
“Can I ask you guys something?” Her voice came out hesitant.
Yuto swallowed the bite of crepe in his mouth before nodding. “Go ahead, Iori-senpai.”
“How is Ren-san as a manager?”
Utahime had been thinking about that ever since yesterday too. She wanted to know what kind of person she was replacing. If Ren had been an exceptionally capable manager—someone the players respected and admired—then perhaps it would be better for Utahime to step aside now rather than disappoint them later.
Yuto tilted his head thoughtfully.
“Hmm... Have you met Ren-san?”
Utahime shook her head.
“No, not yet. She was busy.”
“Oh.” Yuto leaned back, thinking for another moment. “Ren-san is tall. She loves basketball too, and she's kind of boyish.” He chuckled. “She's strict with us, but she doesn't have any problem fighting someone if they misbehave.”
Utahime's eyes widened slightly.
“Fighting?”
Yuto laughed.
“I remember Choso-senpai literally having to hold her back because she was about to kick Naoya-senpai's ass.”
Utahime grimaced inwardly.
Tall.
That was already the complete opposite of her.
She didn't even particularly like basketball.
And boyish?
Absolutely not.
Utahime was a girly girl through and through. She liked pretty things, soft colors, skirts, ribbons, and anything remotely cute. She could be strict when necessary, certainly, but she couldn't imagine herself physically intervening in a fight between a group of enormous boys.
The image alone made her stomach twist.
She felt like crying.
“Hey, don't worry!” Yuto quickly reassured her, noticing her expression. “Choso-senpai is the one who keeps everyone under control. You don't need to worry too much about us.”
He flashed her a reassuring smile.
“Actually, being our manager is pretty easy. Ren-san didn't even take that many notes about us.” He laughed. “Maybe that's why you haven't received the profiles yet. She must be cramming everything at the last minute.”
Utahime listened as Yuto continued describing what it had been like having Ren as their manager. The more she heard, the more intimidated she became. Apparently, the team could become downright feral when left to their own devices.
Still, Choso seemed capable of keeping them in line, and perhaps that was enough.
Maybe she could manage.
Yuto even told her that, judging from her demeanor, he had a feeling they were going to have a much more responsible manager this time. Utahime wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or terrified. She didn't want them expecting too much from her. She wasn't even certain she would stay.
Riko occasionally joined the conversation, adding a comment here and there, while Haruki contributed little more than the occasional nod or quiet hum.
Utahime supposed that was simply how he was.
“So this is how we work—”
Yuto suddenly shifted into explanation mode. He began tracing imaginary lines across the tabletop with his index finger as he described the court. He talked about centers, point guards, shooting guards, rosters, positions, plays, and several other terms Utahime barely understood. What made it even harder to follow was the fact that Yuto apparently couldn't explain anything without acting it out.
“So you need to swerve, make a feint, and then—” He suddenly jerked his arm upward. “BAM! Dunk it!”
Utahime burst into a soft laugh. The other three suddenly fell silent. She didn't notice though, she was too absorbed in her crepe, still smiling at Yuto's ridiculous demonstration.
“Continue,” she encouraged.
She took another bite, her cheeks puffing slightly as she chewed. Her gummy smile appeared when she swallowed, and her wide, doe-like eyes remained fixed attentively on Yuto, clearly waiting for the rest of his explanation.
Yuto froze. His ears immediately turned red.
“I-I... uh...”
His mind had apparently forgotten the rest of the sentence.
Utahime leaned forward slightly, genuinely interested.
Yuto's face grew even warmer.
Riko pressed her lips together, desperately trying not to laugh. Her eyes shifted toward Haruki and he was staring at Utahime too. His expression looked unreadable, but his attention was unmistakably fixed on her. Neither boy seemed to realize how obvious they were being.
And—
Gojo had just entered the cafeteria.
He had been craving a strawberry crepe, and after finishing his work earlier than expected, he decided to indulge himself.
The cafeteria was surprisingly quiet. Only a handful of students occupied the tables, their conversations blending into a low murmur beneath the clatter of utensils and trays.
He was making his way toward the crepe section when something caught his attention.
Utahime.
His steps slowed.
She was sitting with Riko.
And two boys.
His eyes immediately narrowed. The faces looked vaguely familiar, but one of them stood out almost instantly.
The black-haired student with the undercut.
Haruki.
Gojo's gaze shifted toward the blond. He watched the boy talking animatedly, his hands moving as he explained something. Utahime listened with genuine interest, her expression gradually brightening. When the boy mimicked shooting a basketball, Utahime laughed a little louder.
Gojo stopped for half a second.
Her voice carried across the cafeteria.
He hadn't heard that laugh directed at him in days.
He missed it.
That realization should have warmed him. Instead, something unpleasant twisted inside his chest.
She wasn't laughing with him. She was laughing with them.
Utahime took another bite of her strawberry crepe and leaned forward, resting her elbow against the table as she listened.
Gojo's jaw tightened.
Those eyes of hers—those naturally wide, innocent-looking eyes that somehow made her appear even more endearing when she was genuinely interested in something.
The blond boy's cheeks were visibly flushed and the black-haired one wasn't much better. His ears had turned crimson.
Gojo's fingers slowly curled into fists at his sides.
She needed to stop doing that. She needed to stop looking so comfortable around other men.
He resumed walking, his pace gradually quickening. By the time he reached their table, the irritation simmering beneath his skin had been carefully concealed behind a pleasant smile that is almost too convincing.
Riko noticed him first.
“Oh, Gojo-sensei!”
The others immediately stood.
Utahime looked startled. Her eyebrows drew together slightly as she looked at him, clearly wondering what he was doing there.
“I see...” Gojo said casually.
He stepped toward her. Then, without warning, both of his hands settled gently on her shoulders.
Utahime nearly flinched. It was the first time he had touched her like this since he had begun treating her coldly.
His touch was soft.
Far too soft.
“You guys have been catching up with Hime-chan?”
Utahime slowly looked up at him. He was smiling, yet something about that smile made her uneasy.
“Ah, yes, Coach!” Yuto answered quickly. “We're just trying to help her adjust and inform her about some things she needs to learn while she's waiting for the profiles.” He smiled at Utahime, cheeks still faintly flushed.
Gojo's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against her shoulders.
“That's very considerate of you!”
His grin widened. Though the warmth never reached his eyes.
“But I already received the profiles.” His gaze dropped toward Utahime. “We'll discuss everything together later.”
His fingers pressed a little more firmly.
“Understood, Hime-chan?”
Utahime swallowed. She could feel the tension beneath his pleasant voice.
“Y-yes.”
His hands finally slid away from her shoulders. For one brief moment, she thought he was going to leave her alone.
Only for his hand to settle on top of her head.
Utahime stiffened as his fingers slowly combed through her hair.
“You know, we were both from Tokyo,” he continued conversationally. “I was her teacher, and I also coached her during the Mathematics Olympiad she won.” He smiled at the others. “We've known each other for quite some time.”
His words sounded harmless, perfectly innocent. The sort of thing a teacher might say when explaining his familiarity with a former student.
But his touch told an entirely different story.
His fingers continued moving lazily through her hair, almost affectionately, as though she were a particularly well-behaved cat he had decided to fuss over.
“Right, Hime-chan?”
His hand eventually drifted toward the back of her neck. Her hair had shifted aside, exposing the bare skin of her nape.
Utahime's breath caught when his thumb slowly traced a small circle against her skin. She forced herself to remain still. Her face may look composed, but every muscle in her body had gone rigid beneath his touch.
What was he doing?
“Y-yes.” She faked a smile.
Gojo's gaze lowered. It landed on the nearly finished strawberry crepe sitting in front of her.
“You know, I've been craving a crepe. That's actually why I came here.” He gave a soft chuckle, eyes fixed on the dessert.
“Strawberry looks good.”
Utahime barely had time to process the words. Gojo leaned down and took a bite from her crepe.
Utahime's eyes widened in horror. For a moment, she genuinely couldn't comprehend what had just happened. He simply straightened, chewing casually.
His eyes never left hers.
Her entire body went rigid once again.
Why the hell did he just do that?
He wasn't behaving like a teacher. Not even remotely.
“Hm.” He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, still watching her. “It's actually really good.”
Utahime couldn't look away. She was certain he could see the panic beginning to flicker in her eyes.
“I guess I'll buy one.” He smiled before straightening completely. “I'll be going now.”
His hand returned briefly to the top of her head.
“Let's meet after class, Hime-chan. I'll give you the profiles.”
He gave her one final pat before walking away.
Utahime remained frozen. She watched his retreating figure disappear toward the crepe counter, where he proceeded to order a strawberry-flavored crepe of his own as though nothing unusual had happened. Only when he was several steps away did Utahime realize her fingers were trembling.
She slowly tightened them around her crepe. Her heart hammered against her ribs, thoughts tangled beyond comprehension.
He had done that on purpose.
There was no other explanation.
She swallowed hard, staring at the strawberry crepe he had taken a bite from.
Then she looked toward the counter where he stood.
Her stomach twisted.
They needed to talk.
There was nothing but silence inside the office.
Utahime didn't even sit down after Gojo opened the door and let her in. She marched toward his desk and dropped the papers she was holding onto its surface with a sharp thud. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glared at him.
Gojo, meanwhile, remained completely unbothered. He settled into his swivel chair, leaning back as though her anger didn't concern him in the slightest.
“Why did you have to do that?!” Utahime burst out.
The words had barely left her mouth when something in Gojo's expression changed. The easygoing warmth that usually softened his features vanished. His face became unreadable, the corners of his mouth flattening as his eyes hardened into the same cold, unforgiving stare he had been giving her for days.
Utahime's anger faltered beneath it. She had expected him to argue. She had expected another smug remark, perhaps even that infuriating smile of his.
She hadn't expected this.
Her shoulders stiffened, and she shifted uneasily beneath his stare, suddenly aware of how small the office seemed with him sitting across from her.
“Is that how you speak to a teacher, Utahime?”
His voice was quiet—too quiet. The sudden change in his demeanor made her heart begin to pound against her ribs. She swallowed, her fingers curling tightly against the fabric of her skirt.
“Do we raise our voices and drop honorifics when we're speaking to our teacher?” His gaze didn't leave hers. He emphasized the last word, each syllable carrying an icy authority that made her stomach twist.
“Answer me, Utahime.”
She remained silent.
Gojo's voice rose sharply.
“Answer me!”
Utahime flinched. Her entire body reacted before she could stop it. Her shoulders jerked, and her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
“You've been disrespecting me.”
The words struck harder than they should have. The stare he gave her made her knees feel weak. There was something frightening in his eyes now—something that stripped away the familiar teacher she knew and left only the authority behind.
And in the blink of an eye, she wasn't standing inside Gojo's office anymore. For one fleeting moment, she was a child again.
Small.
Cornered.
Standing before her father and listening to that same unforgiving tone whenever she refused to do something expected of her. The same pressure in her chest. The same instinct to lower her head, stay quiet, and simply endure until the anger passed.
Her anger dissolved completely.
She hated this. She hated the way her body betrayed her before her mind could catch up. He was the one who had been disrespecting her. He was the one who had deliberately ignored her, humiliated her, invaded her space, and tried to control where she went and what she did.
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to tell him that he had no right to make her feel this way.
But her body refused to cooperate.
Her hands remained at her sides, trembling faintly. Her throat tightened, making every word she wanted to say impossible to form. Tears began gathering at the corners of her eyes.
Gojo abruptly turned toward one of the drawers. He pulled out the folder containing the basketball players' profiles and slammed it onto the desk. The sharp crack of paper against wood echoed through the quiet office.
Utahime's heart leaped.
“Get it and leave!”
Another shout.
That was the last straw.
Her vision wavered. The tears she had been desperately holding back spilled over, rolling hotly down her cheeks. Utahime lowered her head and reached shakily for the folder. Her fingers fumbled against its edge, and she blinked rapidly as tears blurred her vision.
She couldn't even see properly anymore. She just wanted to leave. She just wanted to get out of the room.
Then—
Gojo's hand closed around her wrist.
Utahime froze.
The sudden grip stopped her completely. Slowly, she lifted her head. Tears were already streaking down her cheeks, catching along her jaw before falling onto the front of her blouse. Her lips trembled as she looked at him, her expression caught somewhere between fear, hurt, and disbelief.
For the briefest moment, something in Gojo's expression softened. His eyes flickered over her tear-stained face, and the severity in them faltered.
But only for a moment.
The hardness returned.
He stood, the movement making the chair roll slightly behind him, and pulled her around the desk toward him. Utahime stumbled forward, startled by the sudden force, before his other hand caught her chin.
He lifted her face until their eyes met.
“Do you like this?” His voice was still harsh.
Utahime's lips parted but nothing came out. She couldn't hold herself together anymore.
A broken sob escaped her throat.
Then another.
Her shoulders began to tremble as everything she had been suppressing finally broke through. Tears poured freely down her face, and she instinctively tried to turn away, ashamed of how vulnerable she suddenly looked. However, his hand was still beneath her chin.
She couldn't hide.
Gojo's expression finally changed. The anger drained from his face as he watched her cry. His hand slipped from her chin and moved to her cheek. His other hand followed, cupping both sides of her face with a gentleness that felt almost cruel after the way he had treated her moments ago. His thumbs brushed beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears as they continued to fall. Yet, his tenderness only made everything worse.
Utahime sobbed harder. All the heaviness she had been carrying since the day he began treating her coldly seemed to collapse at once. The frustration, humiliation, confusion, and hurt she had swallowed day after day finally found a way out.
She couldn't stop.
Gojo let out a deep, weary sigh, pulling her into his arms.
“Shhh...”
His hand moved slowly through her hair, fingers smoothing over her strands in a soothing rhythm, as if he hadn't been the one to reduce her to tears only moments ago.
“I'm not angry at you,” he whispered.
Utahime's fingers curled weakly into the front of his coat. Her tears soaked into the fabric beneath her cheek, her breathing still coming in uneven, trembling bursts.
“Why are you treating me like this?” she cried between sobs. “Why are you being mean to me?” Her voice cracked.
Gojo pulled back slightly, but he didn't let her go completely. His hands remained on her face as his thumbs moved gently across her damp cheeks, wiping away the tears that continued to slip down her flushed skin.
Utahime's eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her lashes clung together with moisture, and every breath came out unevenly, occasionally catching in her throat. She looked utterly exhausted, the weight she had been carrying for days had finally become too heavy for her to hold up any longer.
Gojo studied her for a moment.
“Now you know how I feel.”
Utahime stared at him through glassy eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came. She could still feel the warmth of his hands against her cheeks, yet his words left a strange heaviness in her chest.
She slowly shook her head.
“I didn't make you feel like this,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse from crying. “I've never been this cruel to you.”
“You have.”
The answer came almost immediately. There was no anger behind it this time.
Something painful flickered across Gojo's eyes, so fleeting that Utahime almost missed it. His jaw tightened as though he were struggling to keep his composure, and his fingers momentarily stilled against her cheeks.
“Every time you deny me...” His voice faltered for the briefest moment before he continued. “You make me feel like this.”
Utahime fell silent. She didn't know what to say.
Gojo lowered his gaze, his expression gradually losing the sharpness it had carried moments ago.
“I was only making you feel how cruel you've been to me.”
His brows drew together as he searched for the words, his voice quieter now, stripped of the authority he had used to frighten her.
“You've been distancing yourself from me. Doing everything you can to avoid seeing me.” He paused, swallowing as though the admission itself was difficult. “Every time I tried to approach you, you found a way to leave. Every time I wanted to talk to you, you made it clear you didn't want me around.”
Utahime's fingers twitched against her skirt.
“So I did the same.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“You don't like talking to me anymore, so I stopped talking to you.”
There was a bitter edge to his voice.
“You avoided me, so I avoided you. You ignored me, so I ignored you.”
He let out a quiet breath, his gaze dropping momentarily to the tears still clinging to her cheeks.
“I thought... maybe if you felt what it was like to be on the other side of it, you'd finally understand.”
Utahime remained completely still. Gojo's expression softened, but there was something almost wounded in his eyes now.
“You push me away, Hime.” His voice cracked faintly on the last word. “You keep putting more distance between us, even though all I've ever wanted was to be close to you.”
He swallowed again, his gaze refusing to leave hers.
“You hated me when all I ever did was love you.”
Utahime's breath caught. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel anymore. A part of her wanted to argue. To tell him that he had no right to compare what she had done to what he had deliberately put her through. She had never humiliated him. She had never tried to frighten him into submission. She had never wanted to make him cry.
And yet, seeing the hurt in his eyes made something inside her ache too.
His actions were still absurd.
Unfair.
She couldn't simply erase everything that had happened because he was hurting too.
But perhaps...
Perhaps this was how he had felt all along.
Every time she turned away from him, every time she refused to meet his eyes, and every time she found an excuse to leave his presence—maybe those moments had hurt him far more deeply than she had ever realized.
Utahime lowered her gaze, her thoughts tangled between guilt and resentment.
She could understand his pain. But understanding it didn't mean she could excuse what he had done.
And somehow, that realization left her even more confused than before.
“Why can't you just accept my love, Hime?”
His voice had changed. The harshness was gone, replaced by something almost pleading.
Gojo reached for both of her hands and held them gently between his palms. His ocean-blue eyes never left hers, searching her face like he could find the answer he wanted hidden somewhere behind her tears.
“Why can't you just surrender to your feelings?” he asked quietly. “Why do you keep resisting?”
Utahime could only stare back at him. The desperation in his eyes unsettled her. She had never seen him look at her like this before. There was no arrogance in his expression now, no teasing smile, no trace of the confident man who always seemed certain that he could get whatever he wanted. He simply looked afraid of losing her.
“I promise I'll love you with all my heart.” His fingers tightened slightly around hers. “I'll hide us, just like you wanted. I won't act beyond my limits in front of everyone. I'll keep my professionalism.”
He lifted both hands to her cheeks, gently holding her face as he leaned closer.
“I'll never treat you harshly again.”
His thumbs brushed away the remaining dampness beneath her eyes.
“We can be the way we were before, at least in everyone's eyes.” His gaze searched hers desperately. “Let's give it a try, Hime. Let's stop holding ourselves back.”
Utahime's eyes dropped. Her crying had finally subsided, but her chest still felt painfully tight. She didn't know what to do with everything he was saying. Part of her wanted to believe him while another part of her wanted to run. She hated that he could still make her heart hesitate even after everything he had done.
“Hime...” Gojo's voice softened further. “You're only making this harder and more complicated than it needs to be.” He gently tilted her face upward. “We can always be happy.”
Utahime looked at him again. For several seconds, she said nothing.
“Sensei... not everything that makes us happy is right.”
The words seemed to strike something inside him.
“So we'd rather suffer?”
His brows drew together.
“Who are we hurting if we become together? There's no one else involved.” His voice trembled with frustration. “It's just us, Hime. We're the ones hurting ourselves. No one else is being dragged into this relationship.”
Utahime's lips pressed into a thin line. She hated how convincing he could sound when he spoke like that.
There was still anger burning beneath her exhaustion—anger over the way he had treated her, the way he had frightened her, the way he had used his position to make her feel powerless.
Still, beneath that anger was guilt.
She couldn't deny that his words had affected her. If he truly had been hurting every time she rejected him... if every attempt she made to distance herself had felt like rejection in his eyes...
Then perhaps she had underestimated how deeply he had been affected.
Again, that didn't make what he had done to her right.
“Hime, I've never felt this way before.” His voice grew quieter. “I've never been this in love. I've never been this serious about anyone.”
Gojo's eyes softened.
“You made me someone I've never been before.”
Utahime's heart sank.
“I just can't lose you.”
He swallowed, his voice almost breaking.
“Can we at least try?”
Utahime only stared at him.
“S-Sensei...” Her voice came out weak. “I'm just your student.”
She looked away.
“What you're feeling... it might only be because of how everything started. Maybe once this passes, you'll realize that you want someone else. Someone better suited for you. Someone who can understand you. Someone who can—”
“No.”
The answer came immediately. Utahime stopped talking and looked at him.
“No.” Gojo shook his head, his gaze unwavering. “No one has ever seen me the way you did.”
His fingers loosened around her hands, though he didn't let go.
“No one has ever loved me the way you did.”
There was an intensity in his eyes that made Utahime's stomach twist.
“Our relationship may have started in the worst possible way,” he continued, “but my feelings for you are real.” His voice steadied. “And I'm willing to risk everything for you.”
Utahime's breath caught.
“I won't give up on you, Hime.” He gave her a faint, almost bitter smile. “I never give up.”
Silence settled between them.
Long.
Heavy.
Utahime felt utterly exhausted. He was persistent—far too persistent. The more he spoke, the more she realized how deeply his morals had become tangled with his feelings. He wasn't simply blinded by love anymore. He had begun convincing himself that because they loved each other, the obstacles between them no longer mattered.
She was still new to this, too.
She had never experienced anything like this before—never had someone pursue her with such relentless certainty, never had someone willing to disregard boundaries, rules, morality, even the consequences of his own actions simply because he believed their feelings justified it.
That was what frightened her most.
Gojo had power.
Influence.
Money.
Authority—
Things she could never hope to match.
She felt cornered and trapped. Every possible move she could make had already been anticipated like a chessboard where every path she considered had already been blocked.
Checkmate.
Utahime finally lowered her gaze.
“Give me time to think about this, Sensei.”
The words came quietly, almost pleadingly. More than anything, she wanted this conversation to end.
Gojo went still.
His eyes brightened. A tiny spark of hope appeared in them.
“How much time?”
“A week.” She finally looked back at him. “Give me a week.”
He nodded almost immediately. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
Utahime took a slow breath.
“And during those days, I want us to be the way we were before we became... entangled in all of this.”
She carefully chose her words.
“I want you to treat me like your ordinary student.”
Her gaze remained steady.
“And I'll treat you like my teacher.”
Gojo simply stared at her before nodding again.
“Okay.” His answer came too quickly. “Yes, Hime. I will.”
“Then on Friday...” Utahime swallowed. “I'll tell you what I want.”
Gojo's expression softened.
“All right.”
He sounded almost relieved.
Utahime, however, wasn't. She had only said those words because she needed time—time to think, time to figure out what she was going to do, and time to find a way out of this situation—or at least find a way to handle him without making everything worse. She couldn't give him an answer while her mind was this clouded. She needed distance. She needed clarity. Most importantly, she needed a plan.
Gojo watched her quietly. To him, however, the meaning was entirely different.
A week.
She had asked for a week instead of rejecting him outright.
To Gojo, that meant something had shifted. Maybe he had finally managed to reach the part of her that had been fighting against her own feelings. Maybe he had finally forced her heart and reason into conflict, making her question the walls she had built around herself.
And even if Friday came and her answer remained the same...
He wasn't going to give up.
Not now.
Not when he believed he had finally gotten through to her.
If love alone wasn't enough to make her stay—
then perhaps he would have to find another way.