Chapter Text
"Move." That singular mediocre word was coated in naked madness, sheltering an unseen turbulence, reverberating through the hall.
There was an untoward crash followed by another, and then something shattered. The atmosphere crackled as if something was being forcibly torn apart, again and again. Muffled grunts and complaints followed by several thuds and clanging. "I said get the hell out of my fucking way!"
"Shoko? What's going on out there?" Utahime winced when she turned her head and pain ricocheted across her skull before receding to a dull throb.
Before Shoko could offer an explanation, a loud thud shook the door to her room.
"One of you better tell me where my wife is right now..." Her breath seized in her throat, an eerie stillness cut through the air.
The source of the voice allowed a cursory moment for anyone to give him a response to his demands.
A sharp crack, glass shattering, briskly replaced the silence. The commotion drew closer, and the door shuddered as something slammed against it. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY WIFE?"
Concern tugged at her acutely and she tried to sit up, but Shoko gently held her back. "Who is that? Are they okay?"
Her friend and current doctor just pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering insolently under her breath. Shoko rolled her shoulders and strode towards the door.
Utahime watched as an inexplicable apprehension began to fester in the pit of her stomach. An intense ache bloomed, starting at her temples and traveling across to the base of her skull. Darkness shaded the edges of her vision, like a vignette.
This time she jolted upright when her hands brushed along her cheek as she reached for her head. Bandages swathed not only her head, but also across her face.
Fingers trailed over her new discovery, the tethers of her mind searching for answers despite the pain.
Lack of revelation wretched her off the bed and dragged her to the door. Frantically, she yanked the door open and was met with a disquieting scene.
The short hallway and the lobby beyond both lay in shambles. Broken frames and vases, furniture knocked array, and the gaping lacerations decorated the walls hardly described the chaos.
However, it was not the disarray that startled her. It was Gojo Satoru.
Objects and the people around him continued to be struck haphazardly by his cursed energy while he wrestled against Megumi, Yuuta, Yuuji, and Nanami. The four men were a tangle of limbs and bloody wounds, struggling to restrain this Gojo.
Nanami and Yuuta had their cursed weapons set at his neck while Megumi and Yuuji tried to use their techniques to subdue him. The others tried to calm him with words, a discord of whispers and shouts.
Gojo seemed unbothered by it all, only settling slightly as Shoko approached him.
Of all people, Gojo had never spoken coldly to her. So when he ground out the words encased in venom and ice, Utahime visibly shivered. "Take. Me. To. My. Fucking. Wife."
"I don't think that's the best idea right now." Shoko donned her best professional veneer, hoping to convey the intensity of the situation to him. Instead, it only managed to untether his barely leashed power.
The four men trying to impede him were thrown off, colliding with the others surrounding them. No one had noticed her yet.
"When did Gojo get married? And why won't you all let him see his wife?" Her soft voice pierced the tumultuous atmosphere.
Every head snapped in her direction. She tried gauging their expressions, but the shadows further clouded her vision. Agony tore along the fissures of her mind, and she sank to the ground clutching her head.
"Shit, I was afraid this would happen," Shoko swore, damning Gojo. She had been trying to avoid exactly this.
Gojo darted for Utahime, except Shoko had already caught her. Nanami and Megumi cautiously intercepted, taking Utahime from Shoko.
Nanami tenderly swept her into his arms while Megumi checked her for any injuries, ignoring their own. She pressed her temple on Nanami's shoulder, a feeble attempt to dull the torment. Somehow she managed to distinguish Gojo's vibrating form towering over Shoko, but remaining steadfast in his spot.
"Just le—let him see his wi—wife." The words groaned through her clenched teeth. "It's not w—worth the head—ache or mess."
"Utahime, don't." His gentle timbre was a stunning contrast to the environment he wrought. A hand reached out toward her, sea-brine irises bordered by a distressed redness.
"Maybe we should just tell her." A voice offered from her left.
A hushed, but vehement discussion broke out. Everyone had something to say, even Nanami. She felt the rumble of his voice through his chest, except she didn't hear anything.
The pounding in her mind was exacerbated by all their frenzied energies, and her sight grew murkier until all she could see was the blurry visage of Gojo.
Ever since he had noted her presence, his gaze hadn't shifted from her. He didn't participate in whatever debate was taking place. "Wha—wha... Just te—tell me."
The dialogue immediately ceased and she felt their attention on her.
She fought, at odds with her suffering, wanting to satisfy some of the questions bouncing around her skull.
It induced a sting behind her eyes, tears prickling and seeping out, soaking her bandages.
Someone sighed, Mai perhaps. Dark green hair obstructed her view and a gentle hand laid atop hers.
Although it took considerable effort, she forced her mind to clear. She needed to hear the reply, her instincts told her it was important.
"It's you, sensei. You are his wife." Those were the last words she heard before she succumbed to the blackness.