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lovedrunkheadcanons · 1 year

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Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

It was late May when Hannah received a letter inviting her for tea at Lady Inumaki’s home.

Like the Gojo estate, The Inumaki residence was built in the samurai style with shoji panels and tiered roofing, but more modern than its neighbors, and much smaller. While the house was within walking distance, Hannah was accompanied by Mr. Ijichi, who left her waiting outside the entrance at 3 o’clock. She used the brass ring to knock on the door.

Anxious, she smoothed the front of her blush pink kimono, hand painted with spring blooms and blades of silver mountain grass. A metallic obi with pastel pink, green, and blue flowers held the silk together. Makoto pinned two silver combs into her braided updo. The combination of pink and silver made her feel less intimidating. A safe choice. This visit was important.

After being received by a servant who guided her through the house, Hannah was led inside an ochre walled tearoom. Lady Tomoe Inumaki and her sister, Ms. Takara Shimoda, rose from the floor and bowed. They were both clad in elegant kimonos, hued blue and yellow, and their matching platinum blonde hair was styled in sleek, clean knots. A meal had been prepared on a table. The servant from earlier brought out a fresh pot of tea, but they could all relax. This was not a ceremony.

They kneeled down. Hannah read the calligraphy on a hanging scroll inside the tokonoma; “Five Friends Beneath The Setting Sun” it read. A tortoise and a crane, the symbols of longevity and power, were surrounded by groves of bamboo, yellow narcissus, and plum trees (the three friends of spring) beside a gentle flowing stream. Hovering in the sky above was a bright round sun the color of a grapefruit, all auspicious omens.

“Your husband has been good to my family, Gojo-san,” Tomoe began, bowing her head a second time. “For that you are always welcome in my house.”

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to tell him you said that,” Hannah said. “And please, there’s no need to be so formal. Hannah-san is fine.”

Takara seemed rather taken by this. “So, how are you liking our little country, Hannah?” she asked, forgoing honorifics. “It must be quite different from what you’re accustomed to.”

Hannah gave a timid laugh. “True, it is different, but in a good way. Satoru’s taking me to visit the Tama Botanical Park this weekend. I’m excited to see it.”

“Ah, the Asakawa Experiment Forest, yes, yes, how lovely.” Lady Tomoe lifted a beautiful Noritake teapot, filigreed in gold leaf and magnolias. There was a certain gleam in her maple brown eyes as she poured her guest’s cup. “Speaking of which, are the two of you, you know…getting along?”

Hannah’s smile waned as she brought the steaming cup on her lap. They were now talking about her relationship with her husband. She peered down. Her reflection blended with the freshly poured tea.

They were comfortable with each other, sure. Satoru made his usual rounds; asking her how she was; whether she slept well; what’s her favorite color? (golden poppy) This quickly morphed into a game, one which Hannah thoroughly enjoyed, parroting her own inquiries straight back; when was his next mission; did he have enough Bufferin tablets; what flavor licorice did he like best? (watermelon)

They ate their meals together. They went for morning jogs up the mountains till only the crowns of the pines could be seen and their lungs short of breath. Hannah noticed her biceps bore definition after completing push-ups and she could run for longer distances without getting tired. Satoru had begun instructing her how to kickbox; how to bend her knees and square her shoulders and punch a cushion on his right hand. In the afternoon, they watched movies together and sometimes Satoru would teach her how to play Go, moving black and white stones atop a grid board to try and capture the other’s pawn. But when Tomoe was asking whether she and Satoru were “getting along,” Hannah felt she was really implying something else and chose the less complicated reply.

“I’d say we’re in a better place than where we started.”

Tomoe exhaled at this with mixed relief. “I really worry for these newer couples,” she opined, taking a sip of her tea. “My husband and I grew up together. In the olden days that’s how it used to be. Now when there’s a marriage, the bride and groom are lucky if they get to meet an hour before the wedding.”

“Have any of the other families invited you for a visit, Hannah?” Takara asked, slightly veering off topic. “It’s traditional for the women of each house to welcome new wives into their homes as a sign of respect.”

Hannah’s expression dimmed. She set her teacup on the table. “No, Takara-san,” she said. “You two are the first.”

This came more of a shock to Tomoe than it should have, causing her to miss her mouth and spill tea over her front. She let out a tiny yelp as the hot liquid seeped through her kimono and burned her skin.

“But that can’t be,” she said, frantically dabbing her front with a cloth. “You’re Gojo Satoru’s wife, the lady of a great house. You must’ve received gobs of congratulatory letters following the wedding.”

Hannah bowed her head. “I received many such letters, Inumaki-san, but no invites.”

“Please, are you really that surprised, Tomoe?” Takara huffed, rolling her eyes at her sister. “After what they did to Kumari last year?”

Hannah tilted her head. “Kumari?”

The younger sister handed Tomoe another napkin and refilled her tea cup. “Chauhan Kumari was one of the first international students ever admitted to Jujutsu High, and the first from India,” she explained. “The prodigy was sought after for her rare ability, a special sealing technique not seen in ages. She studies cursed objects for that very reason.”

Hannah nodded, but was still perplexed. “Then what was the problem, if her technique was so rare?”

“Well, as it so happens, she fell in love with her former classmate,” Tomoe added, no longer fussing with her kimono. “Tensions arose when they married last year.”

Ah, now Hannah better understood the issue and winced. “I'm guessing neither family took it well.”

“No, not quite.” Tomoe shook her head. “Kumari-san’s family welcomed Ichiro with open arms. It was his family, the Kamo’s, who weren’t keen on the idea and stripped him of everything he set to inherit. It didn’t matter that the Chuahan’s had money either. His parents couldn’t stomach the fact their son had married a …” she stopped herself short, appearing guilt stricken.

They waited.

“A foreigner?” Hannah finished for her.

Gaijin.

An outsider.

Both Tomoe and Takara averted their eyes. She had spoken the unvarnished truth so plainly.

“Yes,” Tomoe said, disheartened. “A foreigner.”

For most Japanese, the word “gaijin” was met with indifference. A foreigner was simply that; someone not from Japan. No big deal. But to the jujutsu aristocracy, where bloodlines and ancestral pedigree ruled the roost, it was almost always meant as a form of insult; something less than; a lower being.

It was the worst kept secret. Interview them off the record and you’d find roughly eighty percent of sorcerer families condemned bigotry towards foreigners. “Many of my best friends are foreigners,” they would tout, “I’m offended you’d have me think that.” Cram those same individuals in a room, however, and you’d garner a very different response. Satoru despised this two-facedness more than anything. “Cowards, all of them,” he would seethe, along with some other choice words. Him marrying a girl from England had probably unleashed a silent outcry not felt since his family gained the upper hand after he mastered Hollow Purple. They were outwardly showing their displeasure by pretending to be happy for them; attending the wedding; offering their congratulations with beaming fake smiles, then leaving Hannah out in the cold as they did Kumari the previous year.

For Hannah, this was nothing new. The West had their own biases against outsiders, ones she once believed to be fact; Jujutsu sorcerers were a barbaric lot, drunk on power, and not to be trusted. They were dangerous as they were backwards. Their esoteric religion spat in the face of God and infighting culminated between the families like wildfire. Whether the Western world saw the dueled irony in these accusations, Hannah wasn’t sure. Prejudice was bred from ignorance, not knowledge. When you point a finger, you point three fingers back at yourself. Her time with the Sisters of St. Horatia mellowed her viewpoint some.

“Ichiro took his wife’s last name after the fall out,” Takara spoke, trying not to sound so glum. “They recently moved to Minato City not long ago with their son.”

“I’ll be sure to invite them over for tea next time you visit,” Tomoe chimed. “Tell your husband he’s welcome too.”

Hannah's face brightened at the mention. “Thank you, Tomoe-san. You’re too kind.”

The three women were then interrupted by a short sneeze.

“Ah-cho.”

They twisted their heads to see.

Through a narrow slit in the door, Hannah saw a pair of curious brown eyes flickering back at her. She caught a swoosh of platinum blond, along with oddly painted lips and a small nose, before the door slid shut.

“Ah, that would be my son,” Tomoe chuckled, knowing exactly who it was. “Toge, quit snooping and come introduce yourself to our guest.”

But the door failed to open. A ha-chikui could be heard singing “pir-r-r-r” from a neighboring tree like a taunt. Toge did not make an appearance.

Tomoe and Takara shared dispirited looks. Bowing to Hannah would have been easy enough, but with his vocabulary diminishing more and more, Toge’s confidence was then at an all time low. Forcing him to talk was like pulling teeth. There were only a number of words he could say without setting off an explosion, though his mother feared that if he stopped talking, he would never speak again and so it was better to keep trying. “Hello” and “My. Name. Is. Toge” were still safe to use, if he said them carefully.

“Oh well,” Tomoe sighed, masking her worry with a well rehearsed smile. “Perhaps another day then.”

She took a sip of tea.

Hannah kept staring at the door, but said nothing. Tomoe’s clipped tone hinted the conversation was over. Yes, perhaps another day.

The ladies soon finished their meal and Hannah was taken for a stroll in the garden.

Pic by Damien Douxchamps

Like ducklings, Takara and Hannah followed Tomoe outside. They took turns leaning over the washbasin by the door, dipping the wooden ladle into the water and bringing it to their mouths, swishing it back and forth, then spitting it on the ground before washing their hands. This was a cleansing ritual, akin to visiting a Shinto shrine, or crossing oneself with holy water when entering a church. Gardens were sacred spaces.

The rules were easy: Stay on the path and don’t wander off. Focus your mind. Breathe. Reflect. You are a tiny speck floating aimlessly in this ever expanding universe. You are finite.

Hannah wiped her hands and took in the lush greenery.

Japan had over 200 registered public gardens, with three revered above all others: Kenroku-en (Garden of the Six Sublimities), Kairaku-en (Garden to be Enjoyed Together), and Kōraku-en (Garden for Taking Pleasure Later). Closed from the public, the Inumaki’s backyard was an intimate pond garden, inspired by the Buddhist temple, Renge-ji, dating back to the early Edo Period. A dirt path coiled its way around a modest pond, planted with fork moss, crepe myrtles, and azalea islands. Along this path were sweeping shrouds of black pines, their trunks hunched over as though blown by the wind. A thick fortress of bamboo kept intruders out.

It had rained heavily that morning, growing hot and humid before the clock struck noon. Walking underneath the shady pines brought reprieve from the midday heat. Taking deliberate steps, the three women walked the route in silence. Breathing. Focusing. Reflecting. Hannah delighted in seeing a tree frog poke its head out of the pond, blink, then dive back down to escape potential danger. Birds chirped and warbled high in the trees: A nuthatch, a bamboo patridge, a brown-eared bulbul. The thick pine needles prevented her from viewing them, but she didn’t mind. She could hear every single one, the mountain wind whistling softly in her ears.

Mr. Ijichi was waiting outside the Inumaki house at 5 pm, as scheduled. Rejuvenated from the walk, Hannah bowed to her two hostesses, thanking them for their generous hospitality and made to leave, but Tomoe held her back.

“Hannah, before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.” She looked apprehensive as she said this. “It’s important.”

“Of course,” Hannah answered and turned to face the lady of the house.

Tomoe gestured for her sister to reconvene inside, which she did without argument, and once the two sorcerer wives were alone, Tomoe motherly clasped Hannah’s hand and said,

“I know it’s not my business to pry, so I won’t say much more, but if there’s one piece of advice I wish somebody had given me when I married Suga, it’s this,” she paused as looked at their clasped hands, “Whatever you and Satoru do, however your feelings are towards each other…don’t wait for children,” she squeezed a little tighter, “The sooner you have children, the less the wolves will have to sink their teeth into.

Hannah looked confused. “The wolves?”

Tomoe’s smile was contrite as it was foreboding.

“Please take what I’ve said to heart.”

Hannah was haunted by Tomoe’s words the rest of the way home, the implications hounding her like a starved predator. It was all she could think about. The wolves? Japan didn’t have wolves. Magical, maybe, but not real ones. They were hunted to extinction during the Meiji Restoration to protect against rabies and canine distemper; one of the many obscure facts she learned in the convents. Tomoe meant it as a metaphor.

“Did you have a nice visit, Hannah-chan?” Mr. Ijichi politely asked as they walked.

“Huh?” Hannah looked up, blinking. “Oh, yes, Ijichi-san, very nice.”

“Good. Lady Inumaki is known for her kindness.” He shows her a white paper bag. “Look, she even gave me anpan buns to take home. They’re still warm. Would you like one?”

Hannah shook her head. She wasn’t hungry.

The deputy director opened the bag and took out a sweet roll, steam fogging up his glasses. “You know, I was watching this documentary the other night,” he said, taking a bite. “About albatrosses.”

“Albatrosses?” Hannah said, feigning interest.

“Yeah, did you know they have the longest wingspan of any bird and can go whole years without landing?”

“No,” she replied. “I had no idea.”

“And also that some species can live past the age of fifty?”

“Fifty? My, that’s a long time.”

In one bite, Mr. Ijichi finished his pastry. “They mate for life too.” he added, licking his fingers. “Fifty years. Guess that makes albatross divorce rates pretty low.”

He laughed lightly at this joke, but Hannah didn't find it funny.

Wolves also mate for life, she thought. She had read so in a book. On average, a wolf’s brain is larger than a domesticated dog. They can perceive sounds up to 40 kilohertz away, twice the distance of a human. Their jaws are powerful enough to saw through bone. They take down bigger prey by hunting in packs and will kill intruders they see as a threat. When hunting, they begin by stalking the prey, separating it from the herd until it’s confused and disoriented, then unleash the finishing blow, carving a hole inside the vulnerable underbelly to devour the prey’s internal organs. Once disemboweled, the carcass is left for scavengers to peck and nibble at till nothing remains. And unlike most social hierarchies within the animal kingdom, it’s the alpha female who makes the decisions; where to go, what to hunt, when to mate.

Is that the threat Tomoe warned her against? The women? Were they the wolves?

“Think of all the chicks they hatch. That’s practically one chick every year.”

Ah, yes, that was the more pressing issue; Children.

Two months in and Hannah was not pregnant. She and Satoru had not consummated their marriage. She was still a virgin, unsure how to proceed.

At the age when most kids were learning how to ride a bicycle, Hannah was learning how to replace the hydraulic filter on a tractor. When students were simulating volcano eruptions with paper mâché and vinegar, Hannah was studying the chemical processes used for brewing beer. Nuns and religious sisters tended to be tradesmiths and licensed professionals. They were farmers, ranch handlers, and brewmasters. Physicists, engineers, doctors, and social workers, each using their combined talents to help serve the local community.

So contrary to popular belief - Galileo notwithstanding - Hannah was well versed in the sciences. She knew how sex worked, what body part went in which orifice, how sperm met egg, etc. In fact, she knew that if you plopped a male and a female alone together on a deserted island, both with no sexual education whatsoever, they would eventually, given time, figure out how to reproduce. What Hannah did not know, however, were the social cues leading up to the act itself. How could you tell whether a man was interested? What were you supposed to say? What did you do? Hannah was still learning how to search the internet on her mobile phone. The novels she swiped off library shelves in the convents were of no help either, granting little more than a chase kiss on the cheek, or a soft caress. And the book's perspective was almost always taken from the woman, not the man.

“…and that’s when I said, ‘Masamichi-sama, you should try snail oil. It’ll clear those up in a jiffy...”

Mr. Ijichi ceased talking about albatrosses and was now divulging his opinions on skincare. Hannah wasn’t listening.

The real question was, did Satoru want to have sex with her? They were two months into their marriage, around the same time it took for a dating couple to decide whether they wanted to continue pursuing each other, and he had not offered to share his bed once. Neither had she, of course. Did that make it her fault somehow? Was she lacking in some area for him? Too foreign? Too short? Too boring?

No, you’re doing it again, Hannah, she mentally chastised. You’re overthinking things. Marriage isn’t based on attraction, it’s based on consent, yes, consent. He doesn’t have to find you attractive. You just have to do the deed and move on.

And while she thought this, her mind reeled back to the man she’d come to know the last two months; The way his tongue stuck out when he was strategizing how to beat her at Go, or laugh at a corny joke he thought was funny. How he would saunter back behind the kitchen and help Makoto clean the dishes after dinner. How every fleeting glance from his turquoise blue eyes; in the hallway; at the table; up in the mountains where only the tops of the pines could be seen, made her beating heart skip and her stomach do summersaults.

The band of gold on her finger tightened as did the ache in her chest, jealous and longing.

I want it to be me.

Hannah and Mr. Ijichi didn’t have much farther to walk. They reached the limestone gates in fifteen minutes. Hannah waved goodbye to the deputy director and scissored up the path towards the house alone, but rather than taking the shorter route, she made a left for the strolling gardens. More fresh air was what she needed.

Hannah looked out at the lake and watched a lone dragonfly land atop the water and kiss the surface for a quick drink, sunlight hitting its lustrous wings to generate the spectrum of a rainbow. It hummed as it flew off. Willow trees swayed in the eastern wind, their long, slender branches dipping into the waterfront like paper streamers. A bed of blue irises were budding close to the shore. She already missed the sakura blossoms. Cherries would replace them come summer.

Sister Edith often said that to walk in nature was to witness a thousand miracles. “We pass by them everyday, mon chérie,” she would sigh, shaking her head. “But we have grown blind. What will it take for the scales to fall from our eyes?” Hannah didn’t have an answer. She was feeling blind as of late. Blind to her husband’s intentions, blind from doubt. Where were they headed in this marriage?

She had just made it over the second bridge next to the teahouse, past a two-hundred year old maple tree, when suddenly she caught the sound of an animal in distress.

“Mmrooww,” it yowled, followed by the rattling of leaves and an angry hiss. “Mrrooow-row.”

Hannah knew what made that noise. Blimey, that was one unhappy cat.

But where was it?

“Meow.”

Hannah spun herself around, looking east to west, and quickly eyed a fluffy white tail poking out the side of a mulberry bush, making the plant look like a handle-less teapot. She soon discovered what had the kitty so upset.

Looking to rub its whiskers along something rough, the cat got its collar snagged on a prickly branch. It tried pulling away, but the branch wouldn’t relent, as though punishing the kitty for trespassing. Now the poor thing was stuck.

It yowled again.

“Hold on, I’ve got you.” Hannah began sifting through the branches to reach the feline. He was wedged fairly deep. She risked ruining the shrub.

Spooked by the stranger, the cat began thrashing and biting wildly, clawing Hannah’s arm by accident. “Ow — No, if you keep tugging on it like that, you’ll choke.” She managed to hook her finger underneath the collar and slide it off the branch. There.

Realizing he was free, the feline popped out the mulberry bush and shook the dirt and leaves from his long white fur, bell collar jingling. Though unlike normal felines, this kitty didn’t run away and hide, twisting his head around to lick the plant residue off his shoulder.

Hannah got on her knees and held out her hand, making “kissy” noises. The cat stopped licking, raised his bushy tail, and sauntered right up, rubbing his teeth and whiskers along her fingers and purring appreciatively. She laughed.

“You’re welcome.” Hannah began scratching him behind the ears. He had the darlingest blue eyes she’d ever seen on a cat. “Don’t worry about the knick you gave me. I know you didn’t mean it.”

The cat kept on purring, closing his eyes so it appeared he was grinning. Adorable.

As she continued scratching, Hannah gently pulled the inscribed tag on his collar, keeping it still for her to read:

幽霊

She smiled.

“Ghost, is it?” she said. “Well, your owner has a sense of humor, I’ll give them that.”

Ghost’s whiskers twitched at the sound of his given name and yawned.

There was no phone or vaccination number on the collar from what Hannah could tell, though obviously the cat belonged to someone. It’s possible he had a microchip. Only one way to find out.

“You’re coming with me.”

Ghost gave no objection to being held by his rescuer and tucked his paws inwards so he could curl into a ball, purring, trilling, tail swishing. This human was nice and warm and gave good pets. He was scared, but not anymore. Time to take a nap.

The cat dozed contentedly in Hannah’s kimono wrapped arms the rest of the walk home, his fur so flocculent it looked as though she were cradling a big wad of cotton. Whoever owned the fella groomed him well. He was clearly loved. Hopefully, Makoto wouldn’t be mad at the pet dander accumulating on her kimono.

It wasn’t until Hannah slipped off her sandals and entered the main hallway when she heard they had visitors. Loud visitors.

“Idiot, how many times do I have to say it? It’s senpai. Utahime-senpai. Show your seniors some respect and say it properly.”

Satoru chuckled.

“Sorry. No can do, U-tah-i-me,” he said, articulating each syllable in her name. “My house, my rules.”

Utahime wasn’t taking it.

“My god, you’re such a piece of shit, Satoru. That innocent act isn’t fooling anyone. We know he’s here already, so hand him over and we’ll be on our way.”

Satoru was so confused by this, he broke into actual laughter. “First off, your interrogation skills need work. Second, why the hell would I steal a cat? I don’t even like cats.”

A third voice disrupted their arguing.

“Joking aside, we could really use your help, Satoru,” said the third. “Normally I wouldn’t bring him to the lab, but I hate leaving him alone in the apartment while I‘m gone,” a winded sigh, “Guess it’s my fault he escaped.”

Utahime offered her friend support. “No, it’s not your fault, Shoko. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. We just have to keep looking.”

Now awake from his nap, Ghost’s ears twitched upon hearing the third person, Shoko, speak and sniffed the air. Uh oh. A sick empty feeling brewed in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. If indeed Ghost was their missing feline, which it’d be safe to assume he was by that point, then wouldn’t they insinuate her as the thief? She had the kitty in her hands for Pete’s sake.

Her budding nerves threatened to capsize her.

The wall partition separating the reception room from the main hallway was latticed entirely in washi paper. Had it not been for the colorful folded screens, painted in gold and dazzling peacocks, her silhouette would’ve been visible from the other side, but that wasn't the problem. Designed to only go one way, the hall had no means of escape. Should she walk back, the bamboo matting would alert the others of her presence and she’d be ousted. It was thanks to Utahime’s shouting that Hannah managed to make it this far.

“Well, if you see him roaming around, give me a call, alright?”

Foot-falls shuffled in Hannah’s direction.

Wait, no, no, no, no, no, no.

However, Ghost was done messing around. These humans were noisy, and his rescuer was squeezing him too tight. He started to fidget, growing restless and more agitated the tighter she squeezed. “Mrroow,” he growled. Hannah held onto him as best she could, but when his hind claws began digging underneath the kimono silk and pulling on her obi cord, she knew she’d lost. Like a wet bar of soap, the cat slipped out of her hands and dashed for his owner.

Her cover was blown.

“I KNEW IT!!!” shouted Utahime, watching the cat appear out of the corner and rub against Shoko’s legs. She turned sharply around to jeer at her prime suspect. “I knew you were lying, you slimy haired weasel. Thought you could pull a fast one on us, did ya? Did ya?”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”

Happy to be reunited, Shoko picked her cat off the floor and stroked his fur. “Well, if it wasn’t you, how did he get in here?”

“It was me.”

All three sorcerers affixed their eyes upon the hallway, where a flustered Gojo Hannah emerged out the corner, hair and kimono disheveled. “I found him while in the garden.”

“Hehe, see, told you,” Satoru snickered. He knew his wife was standing there the whole time, trying to wrangle the pesky feline. He’d been tempted to alert the others, but thought it better to let the chips fall where they may. What were the odds she’d actually find Shoko’s missing cat and bring the fleabag home? She was always full of surprises. It left him wondering when they would begin discussing the visions.

In the meantime, Hannah was fiddling with the decorative knot on her obijime, which was close to coming undone.

“Here, let me help with that.”

Now able to match a face to the voice, the third person, Shoko, plopped Ghost back on the floor and walked behind Hannah to fix the knot. While not attired in her usual lab coat and heels, she still looked professional in a turtleneck and jeans. Her long chocolate brown hair was swooped in a lazy twist, showing the beauty mark under her eye. Hannah recognized the woman immediately.

“I know you,” she gaped. “You’re the one who handed me the water bottle.”

“Ah, so you remember,” cheered Shoko. “Good to know I can leave a lasting impression.”

“Hold it, you two met already?” both Satoru and Utahime asked in unison. “Since when?”

“I wouldn’t say we met,” answered Shoko, giving Hannah a wink. “More like crossed paths.”

“Uh, yeah. Crossed paths. Sure.” Hannah wanted to hide herself. A lot more happened between them than “crossing paths.” She had almost been caught hurrying the growth of a rose shrub.

Shoko’s companion, Utahime, pivoted back to Satoru, dressed down in a pair of denim shorts and a graphic tee. Her violet hair stuck out at the end of her baseball cap in a high ponytail. She placed both hands on her hips expectantly.

“Well?”

Six Eyes narrowed. “Well, what?”

“Aren't you going to introduce us?”

“Why do I have to introduce you?” He pointed his thumb. “She’s standing right there.”

Utahime pinched the bridge of her nose and drew in a sharp breath. “Because, doofus, it’s the polite thing to do, and you’re her husband. Why do men lack common sense when it comes to this stuff?”

“Fine.” Satoru walked behind his two comrades. “Shoko, Utahime,” he said, presenting with both hands, “This is Hannah.”

Hannah bowed. “Hello,” she said shyly, flattening her hair. “Please to meet you.”

In three long steps, Satoru backpedaled behind his wife.

He rested both hands on her shoulders.

Hannah couldn’t think of anything. Half the oxygen instantly vanished from the room as her heart did a double take. She smelled coffee and incense. His sweet breath tickled her ears, mouth hovering just inches above her nape. If she turned her head, their lips would surely touch. She shuddered.

“Hannah, these two are my colleagues,” he said, voice so smooth it made her want to melt. “Shoko is the doctor and top researcher on campus. And Utahime is — ”

Utahime seized Hannah by the wrist and dragged her from her husband’s arms, seeking refuge in the corner.

“Hi,mynameisUtahime.IteachattheKyotoschool. Okay, so I have to know,” she whispered.

Lost in a daze, Hannah couldn’t tell whether this person had spoken in tongues or crafted her own language. Speed talkers were difficult to translate.

Um…about what?” she asked, unsure why they were whispering. Now that they were close, the young wife could see the prominent scar slashed across the woman’s cheek and nose.

“Who else?” Utahime said. “That mop-headed manchild you married. Now tell me, does he leave his dirty laundry piled everywhere? Eat like a slob? Talk you half to death? I bet he’s unbearable to live with. He never shuts up.”

“I can still hear, you know,” Satoru commented from the sidelines.

“So, is he?” Utahime persisted, ignoring him. “I understand if you don’t wanna say it out loud. I can’t stand him either.”

“Actually,” Hannah parted from Utahime and turned around to face her spouse, “Satoru has made life relatively easy for me. He’s been very generous,” she showed him a gentle smile. “More than I deserve, really.”

The pause was deafening.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

Unprepared for having received such a glowing compliment, Satoru felt the tips of his ears burning. He looked to the floor. That smile wasn’t fake. She meant every word. It made him wish they were true. Hannah deserved a lot more than he could give. She deserved the world, no, the universe.

He just recently learned about her love for gardening, both from the memories and the morning jogs they embarked together. Practically every tree, wild-flower, weed, and leaf they ran past, she could name without fail, teaching him the binomial nomenclature of each while relaying their medicinal properties. He had comprised a mental list:

Isha-koroshi (Bugleweed) / Ajuga decumbens: Perennial herb. Grows close to the ground. Spatula shaped leaves with small dark purple flowers. Boiling leaves helps burns and cuts. Drinking decoction of seeds relieves stomach aches and gastrointestinal issues. Sprouts April to June.

Momi (Fir Tree) / Abies firma: Coniferous family. Oil can be extracted by grinding needles, wood, and bark. Used to treat symptoms relating to the common cold. Anti-inflammatory. (Same for pine, juniper, yew, and cypress).

Maruba-Utsugi (Deutzia) / Deutzia scabra: Deciduous shrub. Related to hydrangea family. White starlike blossoms. Bloom in May. Round leaves are edible when young. Eat as last resort.

The list went on.

He wished he had taken a snapshot of her face yesterday when he revealed they were adding an English garden on the estate; Pure. Gold. He might as well have sprouted angel wings and a halo. “You mean it?” she said in faint disbelief. “You’re giving me my own…?”

He nodded his head yes.

She wept like a baby, thanking him profusely over and over again. Almost June, they were too far in the spring to grow anything, so they planned to visit some local nurseries and gather ideas for October (the optimal planting time). Makoto thought it would be a good bonding experience.

“Hmmm.” Utahime cynically leaned over Hannah and arched her brow. “You sure he hasn’t misbehaved?”

Hannah innocently raised her hands. “No, honest. Satoru’s been wonderful.”

Utahime held her chin, ruminating this quandary. “Generous” and “wonderful” weren’t words she would use to describe Satoru, more like “self-centered” and “egotistical,” but realizing Hannah wasn’t going to correct this mistake, she leaned away and sighed. “Well, alright. But if he starts any crap, you let me know, okay?”

“Hey, I’m not a delinquent,” Satoru whined, tired of her trash talking.

“But you act like one, so zip it,” Utahime spat and tapped Hannah’s arm. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let. Me. Know,” she handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s my number.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, taking the paper. “Thanks.”

Shoko bent down to retrieve her cat.

“On that cheery note, I think we’ll make like a banana and split. You ready, Utahime?”

Utahime checked her phone. “Oh, shoot. I didn’t realize it’s been that long.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve outstayed your welcome,” Satoru deadpanned. “Get lost.”

Utahime stuck her tongue at the Six Eyes wielder, who wiggled his own tongue right back. She was about to say more, but Shoko interrupted.

“Come along, Utahime. Let’s give the couple back their privacy.” She tugged on her friend’s collar, carrying Ghost under her arm. “See you around, Satoru. And it was nice officially meeting you, Hannah. Thanks for finding my cat.”

“Yeah, bye, Hannah,” Utahime added, waving goodbye. “We’ll go out for drinks sometime.”

“Wait, no goodbye hug for me, Hime-chan?” Satoru pouted, pretending to shed a tear. “I’m hurt.”

“I’d rather swallow iodine, you freak,” the Kyoto teacher snapped. “Call me that again and see what hap — ”

“Bye, bye, everyone,” Shoko finished, shoving her friend towards the door.

“Bye.” Hannah returned a friendly wave. “Janae.”

The doctor and teacher made their quick getaway, missing kitty in toe.

Hannah turned to her husband.

“Well, they seemed…nice.”

Satoru dropped the facade. “Not how I would put it.” Glad they were gone, he tucked his hands in his pockets and headed for the living room. “I’m bored, let’s go watch a movie. Mission Impossible 2 is next, I think.”

Hannah trotted softly beside him.

“No, we’re on the third installment now, remember? Ethan managed to dodge Ambrose’s bullet and throw Luther the cure just in time so he could jab it into Nyah and prevent an outbreak.”

“Ah, that’s right, that’s right,” he chuckled, pointing a finger. “Keeping me on my toes, I see.”

“Of course,” Hannah giggled. “If I don’t, who will?”

Satoru nudged his wife with his elbow and blew her a raspberry. “If I don’t, who will?” he mocked.“My name’s Hannah and I own the place, rah, rah, rah.”

She choked on a giggle and tried shooing him away, which only prompted more ribbing.

Don’t ask her about tomorrow, the uncertainties, the what-ifs. Those she could fret about some other day. Right then, walking down that corridor, the world’s strongest sorcerer smiling at her with twinkling blue eyes, Hannah knew everything would be alright. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. Whatever the danger, they would rise up to meet it. Together.

Let the wolves come.

Chapter Contents

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo #jjk fluff #gojo x fem #Gojo Takes a Wife

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