The Waning (GojoHime) - Part 2

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"Hello! I'm home!"

Utahime tossed her car keys onto the small table by the entrance, slipping out of her boots and into her house slippers. As she shrugged off her coat, she shook out her hair, feeling the cool air of the evening still clinging to it. It had been a nice day, but the chill had crept in as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"Did you park the car at the spot I told you about?" her father's voice boomed from the living room, tinged with concern over his beloved car—the one he treated almost like an old family member.

Utahime smiled at his protectiveness. "Yes, of course I did!" she called back, rolling her eyes a little. "Exactly where you told me to."

The scent of soup drifted from the kitchen. She poked her head in, finding her mother chopping vegetables with practiced precision, her hair tied back in a neat bun, an apron from their Jeju cruise wrapped snugly around her.

"All good?" her mother asked, glancing at Utahime over her shoulder.

"Yes," Utahime answered, but the word came with a tiny hitch—barely noticeable, but enough.

Her mother caught the hesitation. She didn't press for details, though her face tightened briefly. Utahime's parents respected her silence, her need for privacy. Their quiet country home had become a place of refuge for her, a space to breathe and feel cared for without judgment.

Somewhat safe. If anything could ever be that again.

"I bought ingredients with extra iron," her mother said lightly.

Utahime froze, just for a heartbeat. She had mentioned feeling tired lately, though she hadn't offered any explanations. Still, her mother had always been perceptive, noticing the things Utahime didn't say.

"Thanks, Mother," she murmured, leaning against the doorframe. She appreciated her mother's quiet support, even if it made her wonder how much more her parents suspected.

"Is it dangerous?" Her mother had asked, her voice carrying a weight of concern when Utahime had told them about her new responsibilities. It was more than obvious that the situation had to be very serious if someone like Utahime was assigned special duties by the Higher-Ups. Like: we-have-nobody-else kind of serious.

"Yes," Utahime had replied. "But it's going to be fine."

Her parents hadn't asked further, though her mother's eyes had searched hers, looking for reassurance that Utahime could not offer. The mission was classified, far too sensitive for civilians to know about. The larger world couldn't fathom the threat posed by Sukuna's fingers and the calamity they would be confronted with if they, if he ever fully reassembled. She didn't know exactly what Tengen had told the Society, but the frantic urgency of their preparations spoke volumes.

The 1st year students she had taken over from Tokyo were sweet, if a bit chaotic. Fushiguro Megumi was stoic and serious, Gojo's reluctant ward, burdened with a heavy fate. Then there were the two new ones: Itadori Yuji with his boundless energy and terrifying potential, and Kugisaki Nobara, fierce and full of fire. They were good kids—enthusiastic, silly even, but they were teenagers thrust into a world that had robbed them of the right to just be that: kids.

And every day, being around them reminded her of how much she missed Gojo. His absence was a wound that never healed, an ache that twisted in her chest, stealing the very air she needed to breathe. She stubbornly refused to call it death—how could she, when the thought of a world without him was unbearable? But the longer he was gone, the more she felt the truth pressing in on her, a dark and suffocating weight.

Rumors swirled in Gojo's wake, feeding the fear that his disappearance had left behind. New specialists had begun to emerge from the shadows, reading every shift in cursed energy as a sign of impending doom. The curses themselves had become more dangerous—vicious, erratic, unpredictable. Barrier techniques were faltering; casting veils had become a struggle, their strength fading like everything else in Gojo's absence. The world felt unbalanced, as if teetering on the edge of chaos.