Chapter Text
By the entrance of the school, there were already embraces in different kinds of loudness such as—rush of students, vehicles getting parked, and lousiness of little kids by their mother's side in wishing to spend extra money on overly expensive carts of food.
Utahime pulled her Porsche Cayenne over the empty parking lot. Straying away from a bit of loudness, also not too far from where the school event is currently housed. Switching off the revving engine, Utahime unlocks the car door as she steps outside, while Nobara on the other side, clearly excited on her shoes.
Her eyes travel around the place, sunglasses off between her fingers.
“We've finally here!” Nobara, her seventeen years old daughter rushes to her side in her sportswear—a white t-shirt paired with her sports skirt, matched perfectly with her badminton shoes. “I've been on edge, burning in excitement ever since.”
“It is loud.” Utahime notes. Different stalls selling balloons and snacks. Her eyes track back to her daughter who brought out her racket bag from the backseat. Nobara hair winds thoroughly from the weather, thankfully Utahime had assisted a couple with her help by clipping her reddish brown in place, some of those still rebel against it, of course.
“You really need to put back those hair dye, Nobara.” Utahime sighs, like a mother like her would do. Reaching for her soft hair, bringing some of those loose strands behind her ears. “Your original hair was as pretty as it seems already.”
Nobara giggles, reaching for her mother's fingers off her hair. “I might have listened to your advice if it wasn't you who helped me with the dye, every single time.”
Really, who could've blamed Utahime for being supportive and an instant melted ice under the palm of her only daughter? Nothing else comes close to the happiness of seeing the twinkle in Nobara's auburn eyes. Of course, there's a certain time where Utahime misses the sight of her daughter's darker roots. But if dyeing her hair makes her the happiest girl, who is Utahime to even stop the happiness from blooming even more.
“That's,” Utahime taps her daughter's nose, “because I don't know how to say no to you.”
Nobara smiles, squinting under the sunny day. “Lucky me.”
And just before the pair of mother and daughter about to enter the school area, a loud, all too noisy sound of engine revving that is clearly is doing on purpose to steal every single attention and spotlight on it. Entering the school parking lot in such a smooth and savvy, mix of blue and black McLaren 765lt glides through the pavement like it owns the place. How Utahime knows the model, simple. She saw the advertisement almost every single time on the television when she's binge watching her TV shows. And the model imprinted in her mind, very much unconsciously. Not to mention that the colour was the exact same too.
“What a beauty.” Utahime heard a man's voice sounded far too awed by the sight of the car, a couple of steps away from her. And Utahime wouldn't lie, it is a sight for sore eyes. But she also couldn't help but be annoyed knowing whoever it is behind the wheels, it got to be one hell of a cocky man.
“Oh! He's here!” Nobara's far too excited voice ignites and emotions Utahime couldn't find a single name too.
He's here.
He's here.
Who is he?
Is it…him?
Her heart stutters. Fingers holding the sunglasses just a tad bit harder, as her eyes don't stray away from the car until it parked, engine off, and whoever is behind the wheel steps out.
Oh. Of course.
Of course, it's none other than the one and only man who relishes in Utahime's anger. Who basks in her scolds, but also teases her to the length of unknown. Utahime's heart races fast at just seeing the sight of him—Gojo Satoru. Fortunately, her ex-husband, who is also her daughter's father.
Utahime clenches her jaw, eyes on her daughter. “You invited him?” It wasn't even supposed to be a question. Of course Nobara had every right to invite her living father. After all, Satoru might be a well known jerk and an asshole in combination, but being a distant, terrible, bad father was never something he specialized in. So yeah, Utahime had a husband, Satoru. But Dad Satoru is a thousand miles above it.
And yes, it hurts her to put Satoru at such a high level.
Satoru smirks, admiring all the attention of people throwing on him like an actor, basking in all the compliments and flowers thrown.
Utahime scoffs. “What a show off.”
“You married him.” Nobara shrugs.
“Used too.” Quickly she corrected it.
“And you had a child with him,” Nobara said in such an exaggerated tone, before she pointed to herself. “I'm the living proof of it.”
Okay. Maybe, yeah, she's got a point. But still-
“You're getting mouthy, just like your dad.” Utahime scolds her daughter in such a soothing tone. It is almost similar to a coos rather than being mad at her. She crosses her arms, eyeing the show-off, “Don't know if I appreciate that.”
Nobara smiles, all too knowingly as if she knows her mother far too well.
“There it is,” Satoru announced, loud and clear, “my beautiful sunshine of a daughter.”
“Dad!” And run to his arms, Nobara goes. The man didn't even budge. Stood on his shoes, taking her daughter in his arms in a deep, longful hug as if in his arms, she's still the little girl who found happiness in pins and braiding her dad's hair.
The sight makes Utahime's heart stutter. It shouldn't be this longing.
“Look at you, hair bright as your spirit.” Satoru sounds so gleeful, pulling giggles out of Nobara as he brings her down to her shoes. “Pretty clip there. Mom's doing?”
“Yupp.” Nobara smiles, pulling her father along with her, closer than what Utahime prefers to have Satoru around.
And for the first time in months, Utahime thoroughly looked at Satoru. He had been looking different than the last time she saw him. Back then, he had the spirit of a lazy man. Lanky around and possibly annoyed her to her core. Now, Utahime hates that her traitorous heart beats faster at just mapping the obvious strength of his biceps and muscles. It was obvious he had been working out this past month. The sight of his biceps straining the sleeve of his baby blue shirt that he folded half to the arms, the shoulders, looking unbearably wider and sturdier.
“Why the flush, ma?” Nobara brings her back to reality. And the sight of Satoru's annoying smirk makes Utahime want to pull every single strand of his short undercut.
“The weather is killing me.” The lie sounds believable enough. “Let's get in. We can find a good seat while you need to warm up.”
“Utahime!” Utahime's eyes turn to Satoru's exaggerated excitement. “Long time no see. Your hair's longer now.”
At the mention, Utahime brings one side of her dark hair to one shoulder, while the other sways over her back. “What a way to start a conversation, huh?”
Satoru grins. All toothy and devilish. “Well I can talk about how good your ass looks in those jeans, not sure if you like that compliment.”
Utahime splutters. Nobara clears her throat as she looks on the other side. “Y-you! There's kids around here, you stupid man.”
Satoru hums, taking off his midnight blue glasses to the collar of his shirt. His eyes are menacing, meeting her own soft brown in such an interest. “If you're out to fish for a compliment, I might just give you one if you ask nicely.”
“Like I care.” Utahime huffs, turning her heels as she walks straight to the entrance. Nobara already rushed inside with her racket bag—could it be she was running late, or her parents clearly were embarrassing her, Utahime isn't sure which is which. “Keep that compliment in your ass, Satoru. Like I would ever crave anything coming out of your mouth.”
“Awe,” it only took Satoru less than three steps to walk by her side, “you miss me giving you compliments, Hime?” Lower now, he adds, “I thought you like yourself a good round of filthy pet names. What changed?”
Flushing from her roots to her core, Utahime gasps, turning her heels to face him as she raises her palm to slap him across his face—it didn't happen when Satoru took the opportunity to lace their fingers together.
“You son of a bitch.” Utahime hissed, eyes blaring.
Satoru took no care of her heat. He walks and sways around like a man who's so immune to fields of fire. He merely smiles, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. His cold lips feel unbearably hot on Utahime’s skin. His eyes lift back to meet her—once laces in thousands of fury, while the other counter in controlled temptations—
“I miss your pet names for me too, Hime’.”
And right then and there, Utahime pulls off her hands from Satoru and turns her back to him. Her heels rushed, and Satoru's Chelsea boots were only silent for so long before Utahime heard those boots trailing so close to her back. Inside of her, thousand different emotions caught in a single bowl of nonsense, messing and tangling it all with one another, before they give birth to a confusion of feelings.
It wasn't a shocking fact that they had divorced not a year ago. It was necessary, and it can only be so long for Utahime to deal with Satoru's bullshit before she calls off their marriage for good.
And her and Satoru—they were not recent. They had years of tangling messes and pages after pages of history and chemistry with one another. He was seventeen, and she was nineteen when she knew him. He was eighteen and she was twenty when he thought it could be a good thing to mess around with her and get pregnant. Then comes dating, then comes sixteen years of marriage before they end for good.
Things—them, they shouldn't even connect with one another anymore. And Satoru needs to stay in his lane while Utahime can deal with hers.
“We need to stay professional.” Utahime says. She knew it was loud enough for Satoru to hear. “Not for us, but for Nobara. What we had, it had ended for good. It's in the past and I want nothing out of it anymore.”
Heels over the pavements, boots trailing close, doors after doors drift pass.
“You want nothing out of it anymore.” Satoru snickers. Utahime is frustrating. “I've known you for years, and you're one terrible liar.”
“Why?” She looks over his shoulder, meeting his harsh gaze, “Can't deal with the fact that I treated our past like a mistake?”
“It was not a mistake,” Satoru shot. “And you knew that too.”
“Oh? Maybe I just realised what we used to have is the worst mistake I've ever made?” Utahime thrust the needle to his chest harder, as Satoru grinds his molar, “Well sorry to burst your bubble, Satoru. But we made a mistake. We were nothing, “ Utahime laughs, “and I don't love-”
Satoru wraps his hand around her wrist as he pulls her to an empty hallway, lacking people and shields her from every single curious gaze.
“You-”
He took both her wrists around his hand. Satoru eyes are piercing, bringing her arms up to the walls as their chest only hides away from the pink sweater she wore, and the blue long sleeved he paired. He was close. Closer since the last time Utahime had him a year ago. His thighs grazed her jeans, forehead resting against her, as his lips breathed away from her.
At last, words were not Utahime's strongest soldier anymore.
“I know you're saying things out of anger, but I won't let you throw such a pitiful lie on my face, Utahime.”
“You-”
“Shush.” Satoru wraps his free hand around her back, pulling her even closer to his chest—Utahime shoots daggers. “Quit it. Quit denying what we had for an anger that you're building so steadily for me. What we had is beyond replaceable.” Satoru murmurs, eyes gliding over her face, down to the pout of her lips. The hand that holds Utahime's wrist together is no longer there, instead he slides his forefinger to her lower lips. “This lies alot.” Her body is in flames when Satoru slides the same finger down to where her heart races behind her ribcage, “This said nothing but the truth.”
The controlled temptations behind his Azure blue burns as Satoru brings his hand lower. Caressing her stomach, thumb over the button of her jeans, before his palm slides between her thighs—Utahime moans. By accident.
“This?” Satoru burns meeting hers, “pretty little pussy who knows who she belongs to even when your lips say otherwise.”
“So if you want to be civil, let's do just that.” Satoru words kisses her cheek, before the same lips caress her ear, “but don't go around lying like I never ruin you so thoroughly that you only remember my name instead of yours, and know no other place instead of atop of me.”
Utahime blinks when Satoru moves away from her. She was still at loss of breath, legs shaking over such a close proximity and whispers of lust that light up desire between her thighs. Satoru strayed far enough to give her space to comfort herself, but he also wasn't far enough as he held Utahime wrist in one hand as if they were still together in the first place.
She shook it off, of course. And Satoru only displays a smirk of satisfaction. “I don't want to miss Nobara.” And she left him in the hallway. He knew he wouldn't be so far from her.
And space, Gojo Satoru had his own dictionary and the words were totally foreign in his pages of learning.
The badminton court is loud with cheers, claps of hands, and the sound of rackets meeting the shuttlecock, round by round. When Utahime entered the space, the ongoing match was the girls double and it was already on a second set—which means the team that Nobara was playing with were in the peak of victory. Her daughter's game was on the last, which means right after this specific match, it'll be her daughter's solo game meeting the other contender, which was the opposite school. The benches where the parents of the students were seated were empty with little spaces left, Utahime slides over the second aisle where it's pretty empty but enough view where she can have her full attention on her daughter.
Satoru, gratefully, was nowhere in sight. Yet. He had excused himself going where Utahime wasn't sure, nor is she anywhere near curious about his whereabouts. If she can handle this tournament for her daughter alone, she would. But that also means to steal Nobara's sense of happiness because of her own selfishness.
And Utahime will never do that no matter what it is the predicament she is to deal with.
“Oh, hello. Is the other seat taken?”
Utahime glances up from her phone, screen facing her lap now that she spared the man an attention. “Huh?”
The man smiles. “The left side. Are you expecting anyone?”
She glances around the place. The reason? She doesn't really know why, but in the meantime, Utahime also noticed that there's an aisle of more empty spaces except the only bench that she took a seat on. “Oh, no. Actually. It's not reserved.”
“Very well.” He slides in, seating himself on the right as he had himself a lapful of snacks and little drinks. “You're one of the staffs?’” He makes small talk.
“No,” Utahime slides her phone back inside the pocket of her jeans. “I'm here for my daughter, Actually.”
“You're a mother?” He was surprised, as if Utahime doesn't have an attitude like one. “Wow, you look really young, I would have thought you're a staff or one of the students' sisters.”
Oh. Oh. Is the man… flirting with her?
“I am not. Of course.” Utahime waves away the compliment.
“Which one is your daughter anyway?” He was eager to make conversation.
And Utahime doesn't mind as she loves to talk about Nobara. “Her name's Nobara. She's seventeen, and her game is the ladies' single after this.”
“Oh.” It went beyond Utahime's ear that she didn't notice that the man doesn't sound interested at all.
“It'll be her first ever game,” she continues with a smile. “Nobara had been training for this specific game since forever. And now that the day's finally here, I can't wait for her to finally have the game of her life. Here. Today.”
“Is that so?” The man brings the cup of drink to his lip, taking a single sip. “That's interesting. Tell me about you instead.” Now, his voice lits up.
Utahime furrows her brows. “Me?”
“Yeah.” He is eager. “Anything. I'm Kyo, by the way.”
Oh well. “I'm-”
“Utahime. There you are.” Satoru appeared out of thin air as if he's some kind of a sorcerer. In his hand there's a cup of brewing coffee and a cold strawberry drink on the other. His glasses already perch on his nose, giving Utahime only little glances of his eyes behind those lenses. “I've been looking for you everywhere.” He sounded tight when he said that. Almost as if he was resisting something.
“Why would you even look for me?” Utahime asks in confusion, though she takes the offered Americano off Satoru's hand.
“The drink.” Satoru didn't look back at her, instead his eyes fell to the left side of her benches—ever so briefly, his shield came back up, a smile that looked like the force of his lips if his clenched jaw wasn't already obvious. Satoru, obviously, slides to the right side of the bench, which leads to Utahime being sandwiches with him and the other man.
“You could have a seat anywhere.” Utahime hissed as Satoru made himself comfortable on the benches, arms resting over her back as his legs crossed. “There's hundreds of empty chairs.”
“But they don't have such a nice view.” Satoru replies, blues washes over her, before the loud cheer of the girl's double brings their attention to the court. “And I can see our daughter clearly from here. I wouldn't want to miss her.” Utahime doesn't understand why he even turns his attention like a flash over the other side seat.
Utahime wanted to argue still, after all, being in the same space with Satoru means always arguing with him. Any seconds, any day. But just right on time, the girl's solo game had entered the court, and with a grin ever so akin to her father, and eyes so auburn like her mother—Gojo Nobara entered the court with such a smoothness with no other emotions but giddy on her feet.
Nobara waves her racket to her audience in such enthusiasm. And when she finds her parents, she waves them extra hard with little jumps of excitement—a trait that she had been having since she was five years old—a trait of excitement.
“Look at our daughter,” Satoru said in such awe and pride. “Truly is our daughter.”
Utahime hates how it almost makes her want to tear up. The side of her fingers already wiping out the tears that should just be a thought. Though, she still nods from Satoru's words. “She's just like us.”
It went beyond Utahime's knowledge again that all through the game, Satoru fingers never strayed from twirling her hair around them.
And of course, Gojo Nobara won in a straight set.
“Did you see the last smash that I delivered on the second set? It was so strong, I couldn't believe I did it!”
“Of course, sweet girl.” Satoru matches his daughter's enthusiasts. “That was like one of the best of the game. But, are we forgetting the rally of the first set and the points on you?” Satoru looked back over his shoulder, noticing Nobara chin on his shoulders, legs still swaying as Satoru piggy rode her, “I think we've come to the day where I am no longer your contender.”
“Ugh, please,” Nobara groans. “You're like the GOAT of badminton, dad. I can never defeat you.”
Satoru laughs, “You think I'm like Kento Momota or something.”
“You literally are.” Nobara huffs, loud of annoyance, and that makes Satoru laugh louder while carrying his daughter, and Utahime smiles without looking back as she walks forward to the car.
It was already late in the evening. The parking isn't as full as before. What's left were a couple more cars, old stalls packing up, and little kids begging their parents to carry them up from sleepiness. Utahime herself doesn't feel as energetic anymore, even when her body was still reeling from Nobara's win from her game. Not to mention the hoarse of her voice now, all because she was screaming in excitement each time her daughter scored a point.
The evening sun had slowly come down, leaving the place into a beautiful sunset. As they're closer to the car, Utahime could still hear her daughter going back and forth with his father. And like every other mothers, she wouldn't want to break into their conversation, but the days had gotten darker. And like every other good day, they come to an end.
“Nobara.” Utahime calls, catching both daughter-father's attention on her. Auburn and soft blues. “We're going home now.”
Nobara pouted, as Satoru let her down to the pavements slowly. She eyes both of them, until suddenly she is struck into a strong shot of happiness. “Dad, do you wanna come home with us for dinner?”
Utahime stunned. Satoru brows raise.
She continues, holding Satoru's wrist with her smile unbudged. “Mom had just learned this really good recipe that she made for us last night. It is called Hainanese Chicken Rice and it was so good. Like, very delicious, and Mom's going to make that too tonight.”
No.
No.
After everything that happens whenever Satoru and Utahime are in the same space, it can only lead to nothing but a disaster in the making. Just a couple hours ago it became a living proof of why they should stray away from each other. And the strong tattoo-like memory of Satoru crowding her alone in the hallway is still ever so freshly in her memories. Her heart is still in a conflict of feelings. She doesn't know if she's mad, or worse, like having Satoru so close—but what Utahime knows is that Satoru can not be her only private space.
“I don't think your father's that free after today.” Utahime offers her daughter a warm smile, while daggers are shot at Satoru smirking lips. “He must've had something-”
“Actually, it's not like I have anything else more important than my family.” Satoru interrupts with his all too giddy tone. “And chicken rice? Now, I feel hungry, and I think it would be stupid if I didn't say yes, right?” Satoru says to Nobara, though then his eyes that ignite in thousand shades of teasing meet hers. “But if your mother doesn't want me there-”
“Mom, please.” Nobara went to her, fingers wrapped around Utahime's biceps. “Can Dad please come and have dinner with us? Please, please, please.”
And Utahime can only take so much—the blinking of eyes, the pouty lips, and the pleading. Had she ever said no to Nobara, like… ever?
Utahime sighs. This already sounds like the worst mistake in the making. “Fine.” Nobara grins, as Satoru hands deep inside his pocket, lips pull into those signature annoying kinds of smiles. “A dinner, that's all.”
“Wah, Utahime really do miss having my presence, huh?” Satoru had the audacity to flex, as Nobara offers her countless amounts of thanks before she rushes to the passenger seat side of the car.
“Don't get so high on yourself.” Utahime huffs, pulling the door to the driving seat. “Maybe I just wanted to show off my cooking skills, making you realise how better I am in the kitchen than you?”
“I thought we already agreed that you are.” Satoru walks back, heels slow, but eyes never stray away from hers. “Better than I am in every way.”
She rolls her eyes, snapping the door shut when she enters, though she couldn't help the sudden stutter of her heart at hearing Satoru's words—just what he did to her now.
When Utahime switches on the engine of the car and slowly slides out the lot, the impossible to miss sight of the McLaren trails in a controlled pace behind her—and the sight somehow infuriates her to an uncontrollable length.
.☘︎ ݁˖
The car coast through the evening sun in soft movements, and peaceful weather. Utahime eyes keep going back to the little mirror on the car, spotting the unmistakable sight of the blue and black McLaren, never straying far enough. Each time her eyes found the little mirror, Nobara glanced back in such happiness, twinkling in her eyes.
Utahime sighs, meeting Nobara enthusiasts' gaze as the car comes to a slow stop by the traffic light. “Whatever it is that you had up your sleeves, it won't happen again.” It might sound out of topic for some, but Utahime knows Nobara isn't that oblivious.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Nobara shrugs, feigns an innocent look that should have given an image that she indeed, didn't know.
The red light turns into green, the car moves in slow paces before each of them turns to their respective ways. Utahime turns left, entering a familiar route back home.
“Some relationships aren't meant to be rekindled again, Nobara.” Her words came ever so mindlessly. It catches Nobara from her peripheral vision. “What me and your father had once was meant to just be buried in the past. And some relationships, it meant to be just like that without other kinds of meddling.”
A familiar sight of the convenience store flashes on the side. Cars swivel between them.
“Not everything was meant to stay and became permanent.” It's almost like a tragic retelling. Utahime glances once to her daughter, she offers a small smile. “Me and your father had a friendship once, and it blossomed into a marriage. But it has ended. If it is fated, no matter what it takes, they will find their way back to each other. But us? We are not that, Nobara. And sometimes, the truth is easier, simple as that.”
Utahime notices Nobara stay silent until they enter their neighborhood. She doesn't react poorly. Her face gives nothing that Utahime can decipher easily like she usually does with her daughter.
The car slows down when they're approaching their house—never too close to the city, but close enough to give them flashes of the skylines and lights. The little garden on the porch caught Utahime's eyes firsthand, before her gaze found the hanging clothes that she suspected must have dried by now. The engine comes down to a low purr. Scrambles of fingers reaching for bags and other more necessities.
“You said if they're fated, they'll find their way back no matter what the circumstances.”
Nobara words halt Utahime's movement, her eyes meet the similarities auburn that her beautiful daughter inherited from her. She stood her silence, giving the room to her daughter to voice her words.
The little clip on Nobara's hair no longer does its job. Soft, reddish brown kisses her forehead, her fingers twiddling the straps of her racket bag, Nobara meets her mother's gaze. “What if they still burn for each other like a flame that never really goes off? What if after months of distance, the flames only come down so little, but no amount of winds and blows could ever stop them at all? And once these two souls meet again, the flames ignite in such a strong brightness, one might even compare it to a brand new candle instead of a year's long standing.”
Cocking her head to the side, Nobara adds, softer now. “Would you consider them as fated, or a star-crossed lover who doesn't really know what it's like to live to an extent without the other? Would you also call them fated, or just in denial.”
Utahime lips parted, she found herself at a loss of words. Again. And the atmosphere is static in something so different—realisation? Harsh realities? Or, a hopeful of something that is long buried?
The loud roaring of an engine broke the clouds of emotions. From the side mirror, Utahime catches the McLaren—Satoru entered, in such a loud and obnoxious way—so he makes such a grand entrance.
“Dad's here.” Nobara excites again as she unlocks the door and steps out. Utahime catches the sight of the car engine and comes to a soft purr as Satoru steps out, quick to hug his daughter's arms as if the both of them are tied into an invisible string. With a soft sigh, Utahime stepped out of the car and locked the door.
When Satoru eyes catches her, Utahime chooses to not pay him any notice—some are meant to be left buried.
“Home sweet home!” Nobara announced, leaving her racket bag on the side, arms spread wide with a loud groan.
“Leave the shoes outside,” Utahime warns out of habit as she slides off her heels, leaving into respect shelves. Nobara groans again, leaning down to take her shoes and leave them in the empty shoe spaces. She offers her daughter a smile, “Nice one.” And when her gaze drifted back to Satoru, who leaned his arms over the door with his hands in his slack pocket, smirking as if everything was a game, her tone lacked any emotions, “leave your shoes in the guest aisle, please.”
“No special space for me, ‘Hime?” He teases, even when he slides off his boots and leaves just where she asked him too. “What if I wanted to come over for a free dinner again later on?”
“You can keep on dreaming if that ever happens again for the second time.” Utahime scoffs, switching on the little dimmed light on the living room. “Once is enough. Cook yourself food if you're hungry the next time.”
Nobara sprawling over the tiles, mirroring her dad's chuckles as if they both find it comedic.
Utahime took it as a chance to lean down and flick Nobara's forehead. “Ouch, Ma-”
“Take a shower first or else no dinner.” Utahime taps her forehead after. Glancing back, it makes her body flustered to see Satoru's eyes were just trails up from her bottom—he grins. “You- ugh. Don't make a mess in my house while I'm taking a shower.”
And she left Satoru to his own accord. Footsteps rushing upstairs, walking straight to her bedroom. Once she's in, Utahime closes the door, leaning her back on the door and—breathes.
Everything came down to her like a clouded rain, pouring from the top of her head down to the tip of her toes. Every single one—the sight of Satoru, the argument with him, the moment they shared in the hallway, celebrating Nobara's victory, and Nobara's words on her. It's like a mess of feelings inside of her. Each one of them is competing to overpower Utahime's mind, and she finds herself in a state she doesn't really like.
Utahime's head lowers, breathing catching up with her heartbeat. Without wasting more time, Utahime slipped off her blouse and jeans.
What she needs is a deserving thoroughly cold shower—for her mind, and definitely for the burning flames inside of her.
.☘︎ ݁˖
When Utahime steps out of the shower in nothing else but the towel around her chest, she noticed two things—one, her bedroom door was left ajar, and two, Gojo fucking Satoru coursing around her room with his hands inside his pocket, inspecting the spaces like a detective on a crime scene.
“What the fuck?” Satoru turns at the sound of her voice. “What the- what are you doing here?”
Satoru's eyes widened. And Utahime knows this man more than just a decade to see that his eyes were trailing from the bare of her shoulders, down to the still wet sight of her calves. She flushed in anger—shameless.
“I told you to not be up here.”
“You said to not make a mess in your house,” Satoru replays her exact warnings. “And I don't do any of that.”
Utahime scrunched her brows, eyes trailing over each one of Satoru's movements as his fingers reached to one of her pictures on the table shelves—it was her and Nobara while her daughter just turned eight. All smiling with her princess dress.
She snatched it off his hands. “Don't touch my things.”
“I got the exact same picture by the side of my bed too.” Satoru nods, his words a mere whisper as if he didn't intend to let anyone hear—but she did. “You look pretty there.”
She bites her tongue from saying anything stupid, but she can't stop herself from reacting so surprised from his whispers of words. “You had no permission to coast through my bedroom just because I'm in the shower, Satoru.” Utahime left the frame back on the shelf, turning her back to him as she faced her closet, her fingers holding her towel tight, “Find your way out, then I'll make dinner so you can leave for good.”
Satoru said nothing. But his silence still gives her all the answers still—he doesn't like to be the one who is commanded and faces no choice but to listen. Doesn't she know him? After all, they had two decades of sharing spaces as two people who were mere teenagers to now being a couple of ex-married who somehow had a game of push and pull—dragging by the leash for one, while the other tried everything in finding the way to unleash them.
“Terrible.” Satoru mutters. “Terrible assumptions you got there.”
Utahime turns to look at him over her shoulder, his eyes looking uncharacteristically shiner. “What?”
Satoru smiles, always wanting to have the last word. “To think I'd listen to you.”
And he left her, clouds to his words and mixed feelings he keeps washing her ever since his car pulled over at the school ground.
What does Satoru want?
In fact, what does Utahime want too?
Soft pastel blue and yellow shades of flower sundress that settles just below her knees. Her fingers comb through her now dry hair, pulling them up into turns and waves, before Utahime ties them into a messy bun. Her eyes meet Nobara first—head into the movie playing on the television. She had cleaned herself, thankfully. Wearing one of her big shirts and loose pants. Traitorously her eyes search for Satoru too. She told herself it was because she doesn't want him to ruin any more of her property with his existence—her heart acts into a total brush off, refusing to believe it.
That is until Utahime scents the familiar mix of his cologne, wavering in the air as it grew closer, until she meets his cocks of head. Teasing smile, even more playful eyes.
“Looking for me, Hime?”
She scoffs. “Delusional. I was just looking for Nobara.”
“On that window facing outside, to that little botanical garden of yours?” Satoru questions, his face doesn't even bother to hide that feeling of him on cloud nine. “Weird. Pretty sure you notice our daughter in the living room, no?”
Utahime hates him. “My bad.” She shrugs. “Wasn't actually looking for you nor Nobara. I was just thinking if the guy I'm seeing is coming over tonight.”
It's a strong enough shot of needle that shuts Satoru up in an instant. Truth or not, if it means Satoru finds his way out of her kitchen with a clenched jaw and Utahime can prepare the dinner, she'll lie, again and again.
.☘︎ ݁˖
“Isn't it the best dinner recipe ever? I feel like I can't get enough of the taste at all.”
Utahime offers her daughter a smile, chin resting atop of her palm. “Do you want more, Nobara?”
“No can do.” She sighs, slumping back to the chair as she leans her head back. “I've already had more than I am supposed to take. I just know I'm going to get scolded by my coach next week for training like a lazy panda.”
“You can always make me have a call with your coach, little sunshine.” Satoru said from the other side of the table. His smile is devilish, lace all kinds of playful.
“You're going to argue with my coach, dad?”
Satoru clicks his tongue. “More like telling him that if he ever had a taste of this heavenly food, he definitely will do the same.”
Her eyes meet Satoru on the other side. It was so brief of locking eyes, before he turned his attention back to his daughter. It makes her heart beat fast to know that Satoru's compliment—sincere or not—is still strong enough to shake something inside of Utahime. Utahime gulps, eyes fallen to her empty plate.
“Oh,” a sudden burst of excited light inside Nobara. “Now that we are talking about my school, have you talked to one of my teachers who had a crush on you?”
She was so eager too, Nobara, who was talking utter nonsense which Utahime couldn't find a single memory of her to ever know what even talking about.
“Who?” She is confused.
Nobara giggles, lacing her fingers together on the dining table. “Mr. Higuruma. My English teacher.”
Utahime folds the little napkins on the side. Unbeknownst to her, Satoru hadn't taken another bite at the end of his dinner. “What about him?”
“Oh, come on. He so having a crush on you, and he didn't even bother to hide it.” Nobara grins, eyes twinkling. “He was always so giddy on his feet every time it's parent-teacher time. It's so stupid, like a boy with a crush,” her gaze shift, meeting her father's, “you know how boys act so stupid with a crush, right? That's exactly how Mr. Higuruma acts.”
“Is that so?”
Utahime notices the hard lace on Satoru's voice. His eyes indifferent, avoiding any kind of contact with her own. Instead, his eyes on the fork, playing with the other lone spoon. Utahime doesn't know why her first instinct was to look at Satoru, even when she damn knows, her life now has nothing to do with him. After all, if it's indeed someone out there who harbors a crush on her, what's there anything to do with him? He was her ex-husband only.
“That's-” Utahime begins, before Satoru saunters as if he knows it all.
“Sounds like he got a crush on you, Utahime.” Satoru's eyes shield from any emotions—he hides it well. “Stupid like teenage boys. How old is he anyway, to be acting like this. Huh, Nobara?”
The stinginess of his words doesn't pass in Utahime's ears. She flushed. “Older than me, if you're that curious, Satoru.”
“Sounds like he didn't grow out of his teenage scrawny boy phase.” Satoru shrugs. His words are bitter. “Unless you're into that kind of man, be my guest.”
“Oh, oh, don't you know these types of boys so well?” Utahime is sarcastic. “I've jumped into the young boys bandwagon, don't think I'll ever dip my toes anywhere below me anymore.” She grins.
Satoru grinds his molar, eyes sharper than a polished knife.
“Oh well,” Nobara smiles. “We got a man who had a crush on Mom. Anyone you're seeing currently, Dad?”
Satoru looks…please at the change of conversation. Utahime heart clenched.
“There is this woman, actually.” Satoru sounds gleeful, spooning the last bite of the food to his mouth, as he took his time to chew. “A bit younger than me, she's sweet, and very polite.”
“Is that so?” Nobara raised her brows, a smile never left her lips. “Tell me more about her.”
Utahime doesn't like this conversation at all, she decided. She could feel a bill raise up to her throat, an uncomfortable churning at her lower stomach, fidgeting of her fingers that makes her feel more and more annoyed by seconds, and—did the air conditioner even work?
“Hmm,” Nobara leans her cheeks on her hand. “She sounds lovely. You're going to let me meet her one day, or I need to wait for the wedding invitation?”
Utahime splutters, kicking back her chair with a scrap—okay, that's it. “I'll bring the plates to the kitchen.” She said to no one, what's left to company was Satoru's pompous laughter.
“I'm sure you'll meet her eventually.”
Oh, like she cares.
When Utahime got back to the dining table to bring the rest of the plate, Satoru slouched on the chair with his eyes glimmering on her—Utahime paid him no mind. Attention undivided on the bowls and plates, spoons, forks, and whatever is that needed to be cleaned up. It almost went unnoticed to Utahime that she realised her daughter was no longer on the table, until a sudden horn of car outside pulled both of the parents to the mirror facing the entrance of the house.
“It's for me.” Nobara yells, rushing down the steps with her little sleepover bag. “I'm off to Momo and Hana for the night, remember? See you tomorrow Mom, Dad.”
Right. Right. The girls sleepovers, how could Utahime ever forget that? It never went past her mind, Friday is always reserved for the girl's night, and usually, or almost every week, Utahime makes sure to at least bake something—a cake or cookies for their night. And now, it didn't even cross her mind that it's today of all day.
What the hell happened to her?
“I see,” Utahime kisses the top of Nobara's forehead. “Sorry, I couldn't bake anything today.”
Nobara smiles, “That's no problem. We can just bake something.”
“Or maybe,” Satoru interrupts, igniting a bowl of fury inside of Utahime's heart, as he brings out his wallet, sliding off his black card to their daughter, “buy anything for the night then. There's no limit.”
“For real?” Nobara awed, snatching off the card. “Anything?”
“Everything, yes.” Satoru agrees. That gives Nobara a burst of excitement as she rushes to her father, kissing him on the cheek as she professes a thousand amounts of thank yous and you're the best father ever.
Utahime eyes their interaction with a straight fury of anger for Satoru. He ruined everything. Her memory, her day, her dinner that is supposed to be the best thing ever for his existence. He needs an out. A total guarded gate for Utahime's life so he can never partake himself in anything else regarding her life.
“Bye, love you!” Nobara yells, as she clicks the door shut behind her.
Now all that's left is Utahime and Satoru.