Chapter Text
“We’re . . . what?” Yūji said to the man in a suit standing in the middle of the shared living room of the dorm building.
"You are hereby cordially invited to lunch with Lady Gojō tomorrow. The lady wishes to meet Satoru-sama's students,” the man—butler? servant? valet?—said.
"Fushiguro," Yūji said, turning to his classmate, "is this—?"
"Real."
"He's married?" Nobara exclaimed in disbelief.
Megumi sighed. "Yes."
"I would appreciate your answer, honored invitees," the man in a suit said, bowing.
"Lunch, right?" Yūji asked.
"Who in the world would marry—?" Nobara muttered.
"That's free food," Yūji mused before addressing the other two. "I think we should go."
"That's your reason?" Fushiguro mumbled.
"Obviously, we're going." Nobara straightened up. "We need to meet that poor woman."
"And that's yours . . ." Fushiguro said under his breath.
"Thank you very much. Lady Gojō will be pleased.” The man bowed again. “Your transportation will be available at the main gate tomorrow at 1PM."
The first-years found themselves riding in a flashy limousine the next day. Yūji and Nobara exchanged looks and gesticulated wildly at the fancy leather seats and the assortment of snacks and drinks that had awaited them while Megumi entertained himself on his phone. The car pulled up outside grand iron gates which opened when the driver—the man from the previous day—leaned out the window and held a card of some sort up to a black box.
The driveway was long. Yūji began to suspect they were driving through some nearby village and not the Gojō family compound, but then they pulled up to the front of a modern mansion. They stepped out and were led through the tall front door, another one at the back, and into the back half of the compound.
"Rich rich, huh?" Nobara mumbled as Yūji whistled at the lush vegetation making the borders of the cobblestone path that connected the back of the modern mansion to the mini-village they were going to.
"No kidding," Yūji whispered, side-eyeing Megumi who walked ahead without a comment.
Smaller, traditional houses made a half-moon shape with one huge one for the center. They walked towards it, passing wave after wave of strong cursed energy.
"Fushiguro," Nobara whispered, coming up behind him, "is this place under lockdown or something?"
Yūji raised a brow.
Nobara tilted her chin up. "Don't you feel it?"
"The buzzing?" Yūji asked.
"It's not buzzing, Itadori, it's a barrier. We've passed through at least 13 barriers," she said, squinting at the back of the driver’s head.
"Seventeen," Megumi droned.
"Whoa, seriously?" Yūji blinked. "Do they have gold bars laying around or something?"
Yūji and Nobara turned to the curiously silent and vaguely uncomfortable Megumi.
"You'll see," he mumbled and followed their guide through the front yard of the big house, green and ornate, with light beige stepping stones on a bed of raked sand.
“Welcome, esteemed guests, to Lady Gojō’s house,” their guide said, bowing as they slipped off their shoes at an entrance.
"Her own house?" Nobara muttered to Yūji. "I'm starting to see why she married him."
"It was arranged. A clan obligation," Fushiguro cut in, giving her a look that seemed conflicted.
"Sensei accepted that?" Yūji asked.
"He negotiated it," Megumi said.
They were led to a tatami-floored sitting room with a view of flower beds and a wooden bench under an arch of climbing rose vines. Three sitting pillows were arranged in front of the low table behind which sat a young, pretty, and heavily pregnant woman.
“Oh,” Yūji breathed.
“Damn,” Nobara said under her breath.
The lady beamed at them as they walked into the room, legs folded under her—blue hakama matching the tank top she wore under a white haori—a neat braid over her shoulder.
"A pleasure to meet you both, Yūji, Nobara," she said gently, looking from one to the other, and introduced herself. Her smile grew bigger for the final student. "Good to see you again, Megumi."
"I hope you've been well," Megumi said mildly.
"Forgive my impatient invitation,” Lady Gojō said as they sat down. “I was looking forward to meeting Satoru-sama's class.”
Yūji’s general impression was, well, a lady. Her back was perfectly straight, not a stray hair in sight, her skin smooth like porcelain, voice measured and warm, expression friendly and inviting. He noticed her nails were manicured, hands pale and smooth as if they were made of wax.
“Gojō-sensei didn’t tell us he was married,” Yūji blurted out honestly.
Nobara and Megumi tensed.
Lady Gojō burst into giggles. “Oh, dear! Forgive me, I was not expecting such endearing honesty,” she said to Yūji, a modest hand over her mouth as she stifled her laughter. She looked at Yūji and, instead of the intimidating stare he expected, it was a good-natured, patient gaze. “My existence has not yet been made public.” She passed a hand over her stomach. “It was deemed safest to keep Satoru-sama’s marriage a secret until the heir’s birth.”
“Ooh.” No wonder about the seventeen barriers.
“Lunch will be ready in thirty minutes or so,” Lady Gojō said. “I’d love to hear more about you in the meantime, if you don’t mind. I’m told you’re from Sendai, Yūji. And was it Iwate for Nobara?”
An older servant brought tea and conversation began to flow. Nobara complained about her hometown, Yūji cracked jokes about his previous school, and neither commented on Megumi’s behavior—how he stretched over the table to push the lady’s teacup closer to her, how he quietly rose, walked across the room, and got a second pillow for her when she winced, rubbing her back. They were quiet acts of support and care for one’s comfort that gave the impression that Megumi’s acquaintance with the woman was longer than his classmates had assumed.
The woman herself was such an odd fit for the teacher Yūji knew. She listened attentively, minded her sleeves when she reached for tea, moved with grace and control that gave the impression of subdued strength. She didn’t stare, but Yūji had a feeling that nothing got past her, and wondered suddenly whether he should’ve styled his hair and if one of his buttons was not fully done. A kamayari spear hung on the wall behind her, sculpted bonzai in each corner.
Where Gojō Satoru was imposing and proud, she was modest and welcoming. His power was obvious, hers seemed concealed. His carelessness or, rather, the appearance of carelessness clashed with her deceitful openness behind which was a weariness Yūji could feel like the tip of a knife somewhere in darkness. He couldn’t quite place her—all in all, she seemed like the regular sort of good person, but how in the world did someone so ordinary end up in such an extraordinary position?
“Lunch is ready, my lady,” the servant from before said, bowing at the door.
“Thank you, Kaname,” the lady responded cordially. “Shall we move to the dining room?”
Megumi was at her side in a flash, offering a hand which she sheepishly accepted, and he pulled her to her feet carefully.
“Thank you, Megumi,” she said and got a nod in return. Another person peeked in from the hallway and a silent exchange passed between them, looks only. “I’ll meet you there in a moment. There is a matriarchal matter I must attend to.”
They parted at the door, the first-years following the servant down a hallway while the lady went the opposite way. Everything in her house was minimal and elegant. White, beige, and black with some gold accents, polished and spotless. Every vase had fresh flowers, every hanging tapestry was fragrant and vivid, every inch of the wooden floor smooth and shiny. Decorations were few and far between but each had a touch of personality, an air of having been picked out for a reason deeper than aesthetics.
“How long have you known about this?” Nobara hissed to Megumi, jabbing him with an elbow.
“It wasn’t my secret to share,” he said.
Yūji hummed, throwing his arms behind his head. “Why didn’t sensei tell us?”
Megumi shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to leave it up to her. It’s her life on the line.”
“Seriously?” Yūji said.
“They didn’t put up seventeen barriers for fun,” Nobara commented.
“Right, but if Gojō-sensei is the strongest . . .” Yūji trailed off.
“He’s the one difficult to kill,” Megumi said.
“Okay. So we don’t mention this after today?” Yūji asked.
Megumi nodded somberly.
Piece by piece, one could put together some parts of the life story of Gojō Satoru’s wife. The old, used kamayari that had hung behind her spoke of much training—chipped wood and cuts in the metal. The paintings they walked by were signed by the same hand and improved in quality from something a child might make to a breathtaking vista of a meadow where two shadows stood in the distance. There were some knitted things, a modest koto on a low stand, and the portrait of an older woman in a black frame, crowned with ribbons of mourning.
They came to a formal dining room, taken up mostly by the long, long table. The white tablecloth matched the cushions of the ten chairs, lantern-esque hanging lights casting patterned shadows on the walls.
"All this for us?" Yūji said, surveying the ungodly amount of food. He counted twenty different dishes by the time they were seated, salivating.
Lady Gojō came in as two servants brought out drinks.
"I only know Megumi's tastes,” she said apologetically. “I’m afraid I forgot to send an allergy and preference questionnaire with Yamato, so I figured I'd make sure there was something for everyone." With the help of Megumi, who was out of his chair and pulling hers back so she could seat herself, the lady joined them at the table. “Dig in!”
After trying seven of the dishes, Yūji found time to look her way. Lady Gojō sat at the head of the table, a plate full of vibrant, but bland-looking food in front of her.
“Are you not eating with us?” Yūji asked through a mouthful of yudofu.
The lady dabbed her mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Mine is a specific diet for the duration of the pregnancy.” She looked at her bump, saying, “The heir must grow strong.”
“So how did you and Gojō-sensei meet?” Yūji blurted out, mostly because it was the favorite question of many a married couple and he felt Nobara brimming with curiosity about it. Megumi, on his right, cleared his throat, and Yūji wondered if the marriage was not only arranged but also loveless.
“My family has been in the service of the Gojō family for the last three hundred years,” she said.
“You knew each other as kids?” Yūji guessed and tried not to wince when Megumi stepped on his foot under the table.
The lady chuckled. “You could say that. An heir to a prestigious clan has many responsibilities. Satoru-sama has been training to lead the Gojō from birth. I’m afraid there wasn’t much free time for him in those days.”
“I see.” Yūji didn’t, but he thought Megumi might actually choke him to stop him from asking another question.
Apparently, the arranged marriage was a subject not to be brought up.
“Are the paintings on the walls your work?” Nobara asked, saving the conversation.
Lady Gojō blushed. “Oh, dear. You noticed? Yes, those old things. My mother’s preferred pastime was painting.” She put down her chopsticks, looking far away into a time or place only she knew. “I never had her talent, but all I’ve painted, I’ve painted by her side. Keeping them up is my way of honoring her.”
Yūji hadn’t heard his teacher talk of home often. As he snatched a pickled daikon off a plate, he wondered if she sat alone there, at the end of the long table, eating silently for days on end. He wondered if she was lonely, having been so eager to meet someone new.
If her existence was a secret, then the barriers were the walls of a cage. If their teacher lived at the school, then the cage was a cold one. Yūji recalled the initial conversation and how she seemed to soak in the tales and anecdotes from their lives. His heart squeezed painfully.
“Kaname. Let’s have the sweet things in the garden. Is twenty minutes all right?” the lady said to a servant.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
Yūji was quicker than Megumi that time, holding her elbow as she rose from the chair, smiling apologetically.
“My center of gravity has shifted,” the lady mused. She patted Yūji’s head the way an older sister might. “Thank you, Yūji.” Then looked at the other two. “How does some fresh air sound?”
Megumi and Yūji grabbed a picnic blanket and some pillows at her direction before following her to the back and out into a garden. A little river ran between two koi ponds, a wooden bridge over the middle of it. Colorful stones made a path to it and from the bridge to the base of a huge cherry blossom tree. Megumi arranged a few pillows for her and Yūji helped her sit, Nobara pouring out a round of matcha.
“What a pleasant day,” the lady said warmly, accepting a cup from Nobara. “I’m happy to have finally met you all. Since Yūta has gone abroad, I’ve had no one to spoil around here.”
“What about Nana?” Megumi asked reluctantly, as if he dreaded the answer.
The lady sighed wistfully. “The elders decided it was safest to keep all animals off the grounds for the time being. Their concern with Nana was toxoplasmosis and, unfortunately, they wouldn’t allow her to stay even if a servant from another house came to change the litter.”
“You have a cat?” Nobara asked.
The lady grinned and fished a phone out from somewhere to open an album titled ‘Nana’. Nearly five hundred pictures of a funny-looking orange cat for her to show off.
“She’s a silly little one,” the lady said as Yūji watched the scrolling pictures over Nobara’s shoulder. “I felt bad for Yūta since she used to hide from him, but she was a very affectionate companion.”
“They have her in another house?” Megumi asked.
“Yes. I’m told one of my cousins is taking care of her.”
Yūji glanced at the woman. Though she was smiling, a sadness clung to her.
The cat wasn’t coming back. And she knew it. If she wasn’t allowed to have it while pregnant, they surely wouldn’t let it prance around a newborn. Yūji felt bad for her. On the other side, Megumi bristled. Yūji wondered if Gojō-sensei brought her up when it was him and Megumi. If the principal knew about her. If Gojō-sensei brought her up at all.
He didn’t want to think of his teacher as someone as detached and cold-hearted to have abandoned the woman bearing his child, even if she did so out of obligation, but the space in which her lonely house existed was so sterile and empty, one could come to no conclusion other than negligence.
“Don’t look so sad,” she said gently and stroked Yūji’s cheek.
He bowed his head. “Sorry.”
“I am honored to have been trusted to deliver an heir to the clan that has been sheltering my ancestors for centuries,” she said calmly. “And Satoru-sama has done everything in his power to afford me all comforts.” She stroked Yūji’s hair with one hand and patted Megumi’s head with the other. “Don’t be sad for me. My life is an odd but good one, that much I can promise.”
Kaname arrived with a tiered tray of sweets and a remote. The lady clicked a few buttons as the students picked flavors and a screen unfolded from a holder hung on a branch of the tree.
“Shall we end the day with a movie?”
Lady Gojō saw them off from the doorstep of her house. They were driven back to school, tired and stuffed. Yūji watched the stars from a window, Nobara dozing on his shoulder. He glanced over at Megumi who sat with his arms folded. He was irritated.
Lady Gojō retreated to her room after thanking the servants for their hard work, cast a longing look at the lonely cat tree by the window of the bedroom, and walked past it to the bathroom, house slippers slapping against carpet and then tile. Brushing her teeth, she hoped Megumi wasn’t angry on her account. The many restrictions on her freedoms, if she’d dared to share them, would make any reasonable person livid, but she wasn’t one to cause trouble or disturb the peace of others. That, too, had been a plus for the elders when they’d chosen her.
It had been an arduous and dehumanizing process. All the women from branch families and servant families of a certain age lined up, tested for genetic disorders, and interrogated about their love lives and ambitions within the clan.
They’d done it behind Satoru-sama’s back. Wisely so, as he would’ve opposed aspects of their narrowing of the pool. From one round to the next she passed, genetic testing, fertility testing, STD testing, personality testing—they combed and combed through the women until there were half a dozen left and, out of those, they chose her. She’d been lower on the looks than the others but higher on personality and cursed energy. Her technique stood out, her loyalty was absolute and, most importantly, her obedience was unquestionable.
Satoru-sama, who’d known it was coming as he neared his thirties, had asked her a single question.
“Do you really want this?”
He’d known his duty to the clan. An heir was a must. Non-negotiable. And a random partner would never do for the Gojō Satoru. He’d known they would choose and he’d accepted it. Negotiated the terms, of course—an heir was inevitable, but playing house was not a necessity.
She’d been relieved to have been asked for her consent and she’d consented because, although becoming his wife was as close as a free person could come to a death sentence, it was honor to her bloodline and a position that would set her relatives free of all concerns for her well-being. Lonely or not, the life of the matriarch was a luxurious one. Though her diet was controlled and her health confirmed and checked monthly, no expenses were spared for her comfort—a term of her husband’s.
The most expensive oil paints, imported canvases, personal servants, an entire mansion to herself—everything Gojō Satoru could give that wasn’t freedom, he gave without limits. At the end of the day it was a transaction and, try as he might to make it up to her, it was a cage she’d walked into of her own volition, locked the door and threw away the key.
Gojō Satoru himself was reasonably removed. He utilized the cheerful persona for the sake of avoiding awkwardness, but she knew he didn’t want to be close to her. He was raising strong people because strong people could survive without him, they were not tied to him, not dependent on him. To injure Gojō Satoru was a laughable idea—he was invincible and he made sure the people whose deaths would hurt him were growing closer to that as well. She, on the other hand, was a trained servant and an average duelist, but by no means invincible.
The first place one would look to find the weak spot of an undefeated man was family. Wife and children to cut the deepest. It was understandable that he didn’t want to be close to her. Of the people who surrounded him, she was most likely to be killed as a means of throwing him off balance. The best prevention was distance. He could appreciate and enshrine her for her service to the clan without becoming attached and vulnerable to manipulators using her life as a bargaining chip. The child, being his, would grow as strong, if not stronger, than the man himself. The liability was the wife alone.
To his credit, other than asking for her permission and doing his best to give her a happy life from afar, Gojō Satoru had been nothing but gentle with her. Not loving, but considerate, respectful, patient. The conception of a child which was his obligation, he could’ve—as many a clan head would’ve done—accomplished quickly and without care for the other party, yet he’d given her time to work up courage, despite incessant inquiries from the elders, and each time he’d taken care of her first. The entire history of their trying and her pregnancy, Gojō Satoru had made as painless and positive a time as a woman in her position could have dreamed of.
He was a gentleman to her, observant and mindful, present at every check-up and milestone though he wasn’t obligated to be. When he visited, too, he made an effort to care for her, though it was from a place of taking responsibility rather than one of love. On the whole, she was happy and pampered in her guarded mansion, though she did miss her cat.
She stepped out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bed, pulling her feet from the slippers. She raised a foot and, clumsily, tried to reach sideways for the sock to take it off.
Her husband appeared in front of her.
"Welcome home, Satoru-sama," she said and made to get up.
His hand was light on her shoulder, keeping her seated. "I'm back. How did you like 'em?" he asked brightly.
She guessed Megumi had gone for either the silent treatment or the side-eye. "Impressive children,“ she said, “kind-hearted too. I'm sure they'll grow into wonderful people." Their conversations were usually like that, general and polite.
Gojō Satoru dropped a knee to the floor and took an ankle, plucked the sock from it. “You had a cat, didn’t you?”
Uh-oh.
The cat tree prevented a lie or an attempt at mollifying his temper. “Yes, Satoru-sama, but she’s fine with my cousin for now.”
He took off her other sock and rose. “Did you decide that or did they?”
She looked away.
“Where is it now?”
“Honestly, it’s fine, you don’t have to—”
“I’m the head of this clan. If I say you can keep the cat, that’s the final word,” he said flatly. “The elders can bring it up with me if they’ve got a problem.”
She was torn between stoking the fire and trying to put it out. The mansion was so much bigger without Nana. And yet, she understood the precautions—anything, no matter how unlikely, that had the potential to influence her health, the pregnancy, or the heir’s health was a problem. The elders were merely cautious, this being her first child and Gojō Satoru’s next in line.
“W-With my aunt’s family, I think,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze.
In a flicker, he was gone and, a minute later, back again, holding a ball of orange fur in the crook of his elbow.
“Here.”
“Nana!” She accepted her little companion, getting teary-eyed. The familiar feline bumped her cheek with its head and rubbed up against her, purring.
Gojō Satoru sighed, crossing his arms. “You know you can just tell them to piss off when they suggest something stupid, right?”
But she wouldn’t. That’s why they’d chosen her. “I understand their concern for the heir’s health,” she said, hugging Nana to her chest.
“If one of you is miserable, the other won’t be happy either,” he responded, tone softer.
At times she wondered whether he felt guilty about their marriage and her pregnancy, though they had both participated in it. Whether he felt guilty, despite her lofty home, her family’s improved status, and her mother’s ashes relocated to the Gojō crypt, where she was honored alongside clan heads and elders.
“So,” he went on to prevent awkward silence and knelt again, “what was the issue with the cat?”
“I’m not supposed to change her litter myself,” she said and bit her lip when he began massaging her swollen feet.
“And they wouldn’t let a servant do it?”
“The elders thought it safest to remove all animals from the premises.”
“You know the point of this is to hold the kid over their heads, right? You’re supposed to walk all over them, not the other way around,” he said and moved to her other foot.
“They are not . . . unreasonable,” she mumbled.
He lifted his blindfold and fixed a skeptical eye on her.
“Most of the time,” she amended, stroking Nana who’d settled by her thigh, purring as she kneaded.
“Aren’t you sick of this place?” he asked and got up, leaned against the dresser opposite her.
“I recognize the importance of staying here.”
He threw his arms up, groaning. “You should be more power-hungry. Or at least more demanding.”
They picked me because I’m not. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Satoru-sama.” She swallowed. “Have you had dinner? I’m sure you must be very busy at the school.”
He tilted his head to the side, crossed his arms, and watched her for a moment.
“I’m taking a day off tomorrow. Where do you wanna go?”
“Come again?”
“I said,” he leaned over and poked her forehead, “we’re going out tomorrow. Where do you wanna go?”
“But—I’m not supposed to—And it’s not safe,” she sputtered, hoping he couldn’t tell that she was about to explode from excitement. “The elders will be furious, Satoru-sama.”
“Don't care,” he said. “There's no safer place for you than by my side. They can grumble all they want.”
“Is that really okay?” she asked quietly, heart racing.
“You’ve been cooped up here too long. The first trimester I could understand but we’re past the hurdle now. I’m taking you out.”
She ducked her head to wipe her tears. “Thank you, Satoru-sama. Thank you very much.”
He nodded, pushed off the dresser, and cleared his throat. “How’s the kid?”
“Healthy,” she said softly. “Perfect.”
“And your next appointment is?”
“In a couple of weeks.”
“Okay.” He turned to leave. “Be ready at nine tomorrow, I’ll come pick you up.” And flickered away.
“Nana, am I,” Lady Gojō said to her cat, dazed, “going on a date?”
Thank you for reading! Next chapter will be up on the 13th. Have a nice day <3