BOUND; jujutsu kaisen

ch. forty-four

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR . . .
. . . It's Golden !

"Eh?"

Miran stared at the tall paintbrush in front of her, his sweet grin prominent- as she channeled through several looks. Surprised to see Satoru's lingering in the front of the Zen'in estate, she masked whatever expression she had before. Curiosity, asking him with no answer, his arctic gaze too overruled in thought to answer. Concern once she noticed a stain of red on his collar, reaching out to touch it, questions unanswered.

Frozen the moment she heard such soft words voiced out of his mouth.

"Why don't we get married?" Satoru repeats, her hand on his collar overlapped by his own, cold on warm. Satoru Gojo was always warm—he was a heater on autopilot—all while Miran was a human icicle. It never bothered her. Scratch that, it never bothered her until now. The heat in his hands felt so foreign yet so familiar—it made her remember when he held her after Suguru—he was so warm against her cold counterpart.

She had held his hand before without thinking, but it felt so different right now—as if the last times had never happened.

Satoru leaned forward, blocking her thoughts and everything around them, her focus surrounding his cerulean eyes. She's never been this close to him, enabling to see his faded under eyes from minimal sleep, the speckle of blood on his cheek and collar, his lashes. His eyes nearly sent her to another world, the essence of the ocean reflecting through, something otherworldly. The woman didn't even realized he was speaking, too caught up in this closeness.

"... I'd be way better than that Zen'in brat-"

"Wait! Slow down- How do you...?"

Satoru pulled away, leaning on the tree behind him, blossoms falling over them, "I interrogated the weasel of the Kamo Clan, you know he's afraid of me? Told me he cracked a deal with the Zen'in Clan years ago, a way to fuse them together against me. Using you as their ultimate card," he laughed, "Just imagine the look on both their faces when your my wife and the head wife of the Gojo Clan. They'd be so pissed!!!"

She was quiet.

"Miran? If it because I went behind your back-"

"No—just," Miran felt the need to sit down before collapsing, knees wobbly. She pulled her hand away. I don't want to use you, Satoru. You've done enough for me, way too much." Guilt gnawed at her, shaking through her soul. This man, one of the only people she trusted wholeheartedly, kept giving more and more. It was like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Although stubborn and rude, it cared too deeply.

Sometimes Miran wonders how much he can give before he gives too much.

But, in the midst of it all, Satoru smiles so warmly at her, "What if I'm happy being used by you Miran? Then what?"

By her.

After she came back it was no secret he overworked himself, often coming over and then knocking out almost immediately. He'd take on missions, gone for weeks, and come back with trinkets and a tired smile- He was good at masking expressions too. Still, he'd take it all on: The Strongest.

A label she came to despise.

Satoru continued, pushing his hands into his pockets, "When you're the Clans head wife you'll get the same benefits and more than you would as a Zen'in. Plus, I've been needing a wife for a while. My father decided he'd give the clan to me once I'm married, officially making me the head."