Chapter Text
The wound itched uncomfortably that night.
Utahime walked across the corridor of the house with quick feet, moving from the ofuro to her room, hoping nobody had seen her and trying to ignore so badly the feeling coming across her face, a reminder of her past mistakes.
Her parents were kind, even if they were worried. But she was ashamed beyond anything. Because this was a hindrance. For her to charm a good man. For her to find a good husband.
She was scarred for life.
As the only child of the Iori family, she grew up with a certain freedom most people couldn’t get. Her father could hear the will of the gods, and for that, the family had certain renown in the town. That granted Utahime the possibility of being taught how to read and write, instructed on the honorable practices of tending to the gods, and trained in the use of the katana and hand-to-hand combat. Bestowed with a natural kindness, Iori Utahime could say her position was a really privileged one.
But she was arrogant.
Maybe she was too blessed by the gods, but her naivete just blew out of proportion; so, when Utahime saw the opportunity to show off all the good things she trained for, that fateful noon when she was collecting medicinal herbs for her dear friend Shōko, all those things she took pride in vanished.
A bear came down from the mountain and attacked her.
Utahime wasn’t of the type to run away. She was trained to fight, and even if it was expected of her to never use those abilities for being a woman, she put up a fight.
Needless to say, the bear quickly subdued her, leaving its permanent mark on her— wounded, bleeding, and defenseless, easy to prey on.
Until that man arrived and saved her.
She didn’t remember much after that.
The next thing she could grasp was her parents waiting with despair next to her futon, praying and waiting for her to wake up, then crying once she rose from the bed. Her whole body was covered in bandages, as well as her face.
They didn’t say anything, but she could see it in their eyes, in the eyes of every single person she met at the town that day, as she tried to get herself back into her everyday life. The shame, the unspoken words painting in their faces. Utahime cried.
She was barely saved by the last person she wanted to be saved by, and her body, her face, and her whole self were all tainted forever with the marks of her stupidity.
She secluded herself since then, to never see the light of day again.
Of course, that was a figurative situation. The light still came through her window, and life soon returned to their everyday state. But it was quieter, somberer, and less lively by the day.
Something Utahime shouldn’t be surprised about, since that was the life her imprudence had granted her in exchange.
She prepared for sleep.
Shōko gave her an ointment, which she smeared generously on the ugly and red mark on her face so the wound stayed clean and kept on healing. Her sewing work was dutifully folded next to her bed, and she turned the lamp off before she got inside the futon, ready to sleep.
Spring was almost over, and it had been a while since she was out of the house— she rolled in her bed, unable to sleep—, it’d been almost one season since the attack, and she felt so sad to think she was tarnished, and that was humiliating.
She would be a burden for her family, as there won’t be anyone willing to wed her.
She was her family’s disgrace.
Trying to fight the burning feel of her tears urging to downpour, Utahime closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep. If she forced the thoughts away, she would tire herself into a dreamless sleep, and she could begin a new day the following morning.
A light and restless sleep came afterward, leaving her unaware of the shadows lurking in the house, coming from the shrine. Moving with swift and silent steps toward the Iori household, coming from the garden, straight into her room.
The door coming from the engawa opened slowly, sliding with a silent motion, and then a figure rose from the shadows to find amidst the darkness in the room, the quiet figure of the woman sleeping peacefully in the bed.
She woke up a moment later, suddenly aware of the presence looming over her.
Utahime couldn’t hear the will of the gods, but she was still sensitive to the life source of beings. And she was aware someone had just entered her room. Her best efforts to force the rest in her body were gone the moment that figure took a step toward her futon, forcing her to move her hand beneath her pillow, where a tantō knife was hidden.
She felt the weight of that presence approaching over her shoulder, and Utahime dreaded this was a thief, or worse, a wandering leecher looking for preys in the town and—
Taking a tight grip on the hilt of her knife, Utahime moved quickly, ready to attack.
“Who’s there!?” She demanded in the middle of the dark, her hand swinging the knife defensively, ready to stab her assaulter, when a strong and callous hand held her wrist to prevent her attack, and Utahime struggled against their hold.
“Calm down—” There was this calm and husky tone in the voice of the thief, but she didn’t relent and tried her best to lunge at them once more.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here!?” She insisted, her voice more like a scream, her body still fighting against the other one, who clearly overpowered her in strength.
“Listen, I—!”
“Leave!”
“Utahime, wait! It’s me!”
“I’m gonna yell, you pervert!” But she was already yelling.
“Pervert!?” The other voice— suddenly too familiar for her liking— sounded so offended by her accusations.
It was a man, who disarmed her swiftly and pulled her close until her body crashed onto her attacker. That’s when she raised her face to confront him, recognizing the intensity of a blue gaze staring back, almost sparkling in the darkness of her room, and the soft scent of the snow melting in the mountains coming from him.
She opened her mouth to speak again when a hand came from nowhere and covered her face from nose to chin, preventing her from doing so. “It’s me, you feisty woman!”
She knew who this person was, and she dreaded the presence right away.
“Go-Gojō!?” Her voice came out muffled by his hand, but this time it was lower and more surprised than before.
The sudden realization of who this person was felt like ice on her veins, and Utahime quickly struggled to shove him away from her, shying as soon as she recognized those piercing blue eyes and hiding from him.
She didn’t want him to see the result of her act of bravery. Of foolery.
It was pure luck that the man before her was requested away from the town once he saved her from dying by a bear attack and left before she could wake up. Perhaps a god took a liking to her to save her from the never-ending teasing of the man that now broke into her home, straight into her chambers, and forced her to face him.
The beloved heir of the Gojō family and the favorite grandchild of Sugawara no Michizane.
Gojō Satoru himself had announced uninvited to her room after being away all season long.
Of course, she knew he was back in town. Everybody in the house talked about him. About how taller, broader, and more gallant he looked. How bright his smile was. Everyone in town still wondered why he hadn’t taken a wife yet, when he could have whoever he wanted.
“What are you doing here!?” Utahime demanded with the lowest voice she could muster up, forcing herself to avoid looking at him and focusing on looking for her night lamp to turn it on.
“I came to see you!” He explained simply.
Utahime shuddered, shrugging with discomfort as she lit the lamp in her room, trying to keep her cool as the words of him were making a disaster inside of her. “What!?”
“I waited for you at the barracks earlier today, after I reported the success of my task, hoping you could give me some insight into the affairs in town during my absence, but you didn’t come.” He explained, toppling over the tatami floor, taking a seat close to her, but she still avoided looking at him once the lamp was lit and the soft and warm light spread in her room, casting shadows around them.
“I asked Getō-dono to do it for me.” She knew that man could do it as well as she did. Shōko was kind enough to pass on her request to him, and the man agreed in respect to her wishes to never be seen again by the Gojō heir.
But he was there anyway. Forcing her to see him.
“And he did, but why?” He wanted a reasonable explanation.
“I’ve been feeling unwell, Gojō. So please, I must ask you to leave before—”
“You’re lying.” He retorted immediately, and she gasped with irritation, forcing herself to focus on the lamp, her hands clenched into fists.
“I’m sorry?” She asked, beyond irritated by his nonchalant response and sharp mind.
“I’ve asked Shōko and Mei Mei, and they said you never come out anymore since you recovered from the attack.”
“I—”
“Why?”
How could she say to him it was because she was marred and beyond the blessing of the gods?
“I must ask you to leave.” She finally decided on an answer, standing up from her spot in the tatami and pointing at the door where he came from.
That was her answer for him. She wouldn’t provide one. She had to stay away from him so he could pursue his adventures and career as a future warlord that had nothing to do with taking care of a town and more with going to war with other clans and serving the Emperor.
And not with her, of course. Because she didn't want him to see it. She feared his face twisting in disgust, and that would be more hurtful than the prospect of being useless for her family now.
Noticing he wasn’t moving from the tatami, Utahime finally walked to the door, and Gojō finally followed, walking behind her, more like trying to stop her from running away.
“Why are you avoiding seeing me?” He finally asked as she turned away from him, trying to keep him far from her face.
“I’m not.” She spat immediately.
“Utahime, you’re a bad liar.” He announced with a smile in his voice, puzzled by the strange behavior of her.
Utahime should have seen that coming. She was usually more spirited while dealing with him, and Gojō usually found some joy in making her flustered or angry. But now, she was consciously avoiding facing him that much, as if she found him repulsive.
“I’m sorry? This is the most inappropriate time to—” And then, she went mute when Gojō’s hand touched her shoulder and almost forced her to see him.
The lamp fell from her hands, and she covered her face right away, ashamed.
“Let me see.” He demanded, now fully aware there was something with her face that she was worried he could see.
“Gojō—” She warned, her hands still plastered against her skin, feeling the itch of the wound against them.
“Let me see.” He insisted.
“No.”
“Utahime.”
“Leave.” She demanded at last.
“Hime—” His voice sounded more serious and daunting than before, and Utahime shivered.
“Goj—” And then, he put a hand against hers and shoved them away so he could see her face. Utahime was beyond humiliated to be obliterated that way, and she shut her eyes, now drenched in tears, trying to avoid the pity stare of him. “Stop!” She sobbed, trying to convince herself that in the dimly lit room, he couldn’t see her scar clearly, but she knew that wouldn’t happen, because if someone had sharp eyesight, it was him.
And now, he already saw the mark on her face.
A heavy silence settled between them as Utahime felt the hard stare of his blue eyes posed on her wet face, where tears were dampening her skin. She’d been dreading this moment all season long, and now he saw her and the proof of her weakness, the reassurance of how she owed him her life, and how everything was over for her.
She was already mustering the courage to free herself from his grasp and push him away when the opposite door of her room opened up, and the light of another lamp lit up the room.
“Utahime, what's all that nois—?” It was the voice of her father, raspy and tired as he made his way inside the room, when Gojō pulled her inside his arms in an embrace, hiding her face from the confrontation of her progenitor, and then his voice vibrated with surprise, recognizing the silhouette of the man next to her. “Go-Gojō-sama! Wha-what is this? What are you doing here?”
Utahime felt her face grow red with embarrassment. To be found in her room with a man— that was so scandalous! If she weren’t already the talk of the town because she almost died by a bear attack, now people would think of her as a harlot seducing men into her chambers without any respect for her family.
She was already trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for Gojō’s presence in her room when the man that held her tightly in his embrace spoke first. “I'm here because I want to take Utahime as my wife.”
Utahime’s tears stopped as fast as he proclaimed his intentions, and she raised her face to see him, still looking directly at her father.
“What?”
“Gojō!” She shrieked with horror, feeling her face growing warm and redder by the second.
“Utahime,” her father called out for her, and Utahime felt frozen in place, wondering how she should respond to such declarations in the most normal way. “Why didn't you tell us anything about this?”
“I—” Utahime felt too speechless and too warm to even think of a proper answer to that.
“I asked her to be quiet about it. I was about to depart when she was attacked, and I am well aware the village hasn’t been kind enough with Utahime up to recently, so I didn't want to create a ruckus for your family.” Gojō explained quickly and without flinching. “I was hoping to come earlier to talk directly to you and ask for your blessing, but as you can see, family matters took me longer than I expected.”
“I understand, Gojō-sama.” Her father quickly fell for the lie.
“So— can I get your blessing?” Gojō insisted, and Utahime looked straight at him again, her cheeks now burning with a blush, but determined to uncover what he was thinking with such a request.
“Wha—? Ye-yes of course, Gojō-sama! We're so honored you chose our beloved Utahime. You're always welcome to this family.” Her father quickly conceded, the joy blooming in his voice as she felt Gojō relaxing at his approval.
“Much appreciated.” Gojō replied, and she swore he was smiling at her father. “So, if you don’t mind, can I return my attention to Utahime now?” He wondered, his voice showing a tinge of a tone she’d never heard before.
Her father stumbled in his words at the way he asked, as if he was well aware of the implications of his request. “B-but of course, Gojō-sama! You two have a good night.”
And with that, her father turned on his heels to exit the room, leaving them alone again. Utahime felt the pulse of her heart throbbing in her ears when Gojō finally relaxed the grip of his hug to free her.
She was too ashamed to react properly but had the guts to shove him away as fast as she realized he’d finally let her go. “Gojō! You—!”
“What!? I just saved you from facing a scandal; you should thank me!”
“In exchange for what!? For my parents to believe we are sharing a bed!?” She demanded.
“Is that bad to think we could share a bed, Utahime?” He quipped, a smirk blooming on his lips, the shadows cast by the light of the lamp turning his smile too horrifying. “I could prove it to you; it's quite pleasant.” He promised, his mysterious tone from before back in his voice.
She wasn’t exactly sure she was prepared to understand what he was implying.
Utahime felt like blushing heavily, once again. “Don’t! You pervert.” She repeated, more embarrassed than upset.
“Well, this pervert had just saved you from the humiliation of being called the disgrace of the Iori household.” He pointed out, still smiling at her.
“You’re just complicating things.” Utahime spat right away, squinting at him.
“Hmm. Perhaps. But once this is over, people won’t dare to speak ill of you anymore.”
Utahime knew what this situation could entail for her. She had been duly instructed by her mother once she entered marriageable age. When a man handed her his intentions to woo her into bed, she could allow him or deny him. If the former occurred, she would have to submit herself to his utmost desires, and if, by the end of the third night, they had already consummated their carnal passions, she would be properly wed and tied to him.
To have Gojō Satoru, the heir of the Gojō clan and favorite grandchild of such an honorable man as Sugawara no Michizane was, interested in marrying her, was one of the most honorable gifts the Iori family could receive, only second to being chosen by the Emperor’s royal blood.
But this should have been discussed between the two of them beforehand. This was Gojō Satoru acting on his own, without considering her own feelings on the matter.
“So what now?” She asked, her fingers twitching as she held the fabric of her sleeping kimono between them, the anxiety creeping up on her back.
“Just go to sleep. I’ll stay with you until dawn. Then I’ll leave.” He announced simply, and Utahime eyed him suspiciously. “I won’t touch you a hair, Utahime. That's on my honor.” He promised.
Utahime sighed, walking slowly back to her futon, trying to keep her distance away from him. He stared back at her, following her steps until she got inside the futon, her eyes still scrutinizing him silently.
Her eyelids were heavy by the time Utahime made herself as comfortable as she could be with the presence of Gojō Satoru so close to her. As she stirred between the sheets of her futon, she could see him take a seat closer to the door, like a guard keeping her dreams safe.
Their eyes crossed a glance, and he smiled at her, reassuringly.
She couldn’t help but smile back at him, her lips pursed in a smile hidden beneath the bedsheets as her eyes closed and the slumber of sleep finally overcame her.
Utahime wasn’t exactly sure how long it had passed since she got to sleep at last, but she felt him move before she woke up. When her eyes opened, looking for him, the soft light of dawn trespassing the shōji doors drew his silhouette so perfectly, she could almost make out every strand of hair in his head, glowing like silver threads, turning his presence so ethereal, like a dream.
“Thank you.”
She blew that little whisper in the space between them. Utahime wasn’t sure he could hear it, but after that, he finally left.
The wound in her face didn’t itch that morning.