Three Years Chapter Seven

He was most nervous about telling his parents.

Obviously, they would not have any objections, as they doted on Utahime like she was Hope personified. Satoshi referred to her as his ‘daughter’ when talking to Gojo on the phone, and Lady Sayuri sent handmade ointments and cures to their apartment so often that Utahime had to secretly give it away to her family.

Dinner with his parents was ever only boisterous or humiliating, with them recounting so many childhood anecdotes that Gojo couldn’t even remember. It was like they had a different perspective of his early years. What he mainly considered were somber days with few bright moments in between, they saw as the fondest moments of their family life thus far.

It could be because, as parents, they had a better understanding of his circumstances, and the things he took for granted, they took as miracles. Every chance to see him, to speak to him, to hold him—they talked about him to Utahime as though he was a falling star they caught and made theirs.

In hindsight, he was grateful. It was better than indifference or insincerity, which Utahime would’ve detected immediately since her family dynamic was normal. They had numerous shared memories, and she did not look blankly at her parents as they recounted one childhood mishap after another.

Meals with Utahime’s family were light and fun. Gojo never dealt with clammy hands and stress rash whenever they dropped by to spend quality time with them. Kazuo and Haruki had started to feel like siblings, albeit the former always behaved like he was being tortured.

Now, as he and Utahime exited the cab and stood outside the fenced house in the Kanagawa countryside, he thought he might throw up.

Here was another round of ‘Did You Know?’ featuring his parents as host and him as the clueless contestant. Utahime would nod and laugh as appropriate, but even she knew how stressful these meetings were for him. Not that Gojo could blame his parents. He loved them, but he wished he was not as oblivious as Utahime.

Utahime stood on tiptoes and ran her strawberry-flavored chapstick on his lips. “Your mother’s going to see your chapped lips and think I don’t take care of you.”

“Well, the last time I checked, I introduced you as my girlfriend, not my adoptive mother.”

“Ha ha.” She pressed her lips inwards and made a popping sound. “Rub them together so they spread.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my lips? Are they rough on your—” His gaze darted down to her pants.

Utahime punched his arm. “Stop making everything perverted! You’re the one always complaining that your lips sting!”

The bamboo fence swung open, making them jump back slightly in surprise. Satoshi stared at the two of them with a frown. His hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and he had exchanged his usual crew shirt and cargo pants for matching grey sweatshirt and joggers.

Gojo was so used to seeing his father dressed up in the estate that he felt he was looking at a different person entirely. Perhaps a cancelled fitness influencer with a penchant for gardening or a retired cop who was thrown so much shit in his career that he no longer cared what people thought of him.

“In these areas, everyone can hear everything.” He gave Gojo a pointed look. “Behave yourself. I don’t want your mother to have to scold you.”

Utahime bowed deeply. Nothing horrified her worse than uncouth language, and she was bent so low on her waist that she may as well lay prostrate on the ground.  “I’m so sorry! That wasn’t—-”

“Oh no, not you. You’re an angel.”

Gojo was so taken aback by his father’s demeanor that he did not know what to do. Utahime had to pull him down to bow and apologize, and then Satoshi allowed them in.

Satoshi had always been fatherly, but he portrayed it with so much teasing that his somber scolding felt almost hostile. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t one for perverted jokes, although to be fair, every uncouth thing he heard from Satoshi was not said directly in his presence.

Gojo watched his father’s back intently as he led them along the veranda. Was he in a bad mood? Was Satoshi taking it out on him? Or was this normal?

“This place is beautiful,” Utahime said, but the compliment carried  so much tension, she only worsened the silence between them.

Fortunately, Satoshi glanced over his shoulder with a bashful smile, seemingly unaware of it. “Thank you. I’ve been restoring it for years now, but since we’re always so busy in the estate, I’ve had little time to spare for it. To be honest, the back’s still not completely done, but I made sure the entire thing is structurally sound, so you don’t have to worry about the roof falling over your head.”

“Why didn’t you just let Akira help with the construction? He’s a licensed architect, isn’t he?” Gojo asked.

“Well, son, this was the house I planned to raise you in before Sayuri and I realized you’re the Six Eyes.” He opened a sliding door and ducked to get in. “Here’s the kitchen. Sayuri’s asleep in our room—she stayed up late in a meeting with the elders—so I was wondering if you could help me finish. Cooking’s a lot slower when you only have one hand.”

“Of course!!” Utahime shrugged off her coat and found a clean space to put it.

The kitchen was a mess of diced pork, washed vegetables, steaming pots, and a flurry of herbal smells. Even by Satoshi’s standards, this did not pass as controlled chaos, and it was apparent that his foul mood started long before he heard Gojo’s comments to Utahime.

Lightening the mood would’ve been easy had this been any other person, but he almost always lost his voice when caught up in an unfamiliar circumstance with either parent. He had no idea whether he should pry, or if any expression of care would be welcome. Most of Satoshi’s fits thus far had been performative and loud, not quiet and laced with doom.

Gojo shook his coat off and approached  the wooden island in the center of the room, but  his father stopped him before he could pick up a knife to attend to the poorly minced onions on the chopping board.

“Not you. Go to your mother.” He turned Gojo around so he was facing the door. “See if she’s still dozing or just staring aimlessly at the ceiling. She can stay like that for hours, it’s creepy.”

Gojo stumbled out of the kitchen, annoyed. He turned to confront Satoshi about his strange behavior, but the man had slammed the door to his face.

Something was definitely up.

Gojo padded around the veranda and entered the first open door he found. It was a traditional Japanese house, albeit with a few modern features and furnishing for convenience. When he called his father to schedule a meeting—Utahime was adamant that they break the news of their engagement before Christmas—Satoshi gave them directions to a property in the Kanagawa countryside.

Gojo was irked that he did not hint the sentimental value of this house prior, but instead tossed it in conversation like it was nothing. Gojo tried not to, but as he toured the place in search of his mother, he imagined the childhood he could’ve had. The panels he would’ve broken, the beams he would’ve surely clung to just to test his upper body strength.

Outside, the roads were wide but uneven, and the houses far apart. Hiking trails spread around this area like veins, branching out to the foot of the mountain to reveal treasures like waterfall and abandoned religious structures. He had hiked here enough times with Shoko and Suguru to know that it was just the right amount of quiet and space to inspire peace. The children ran barefoot, and the students hunkered over bus stops with their sweet dumplings after classes.

If he weren’t the Six Eyes, maybe this was the life he’d have lived. Boring but beautiful. His father would be the loudest man in town, and his mother the most beautiful.

What would he have been?

The smell of incense dragged him back to the present, where he found himself standing in front of a partly open door, peering inside what seemed to be an empty room. Light shuffling, so soft he could’ve missed it, told him otherwise, and he stepped in to see what could be in it.

Initially, he thought he’d see a cat. His parents cared for so many in the estate that it wouldn’t be a surprise if they relocated a few here. Gojo was, therefore, startled to find his mother kneeling in front of an elaborate altar at the end of the room.

Her back was turned to him, so he couldn’t tell whether she was praying or simply spending time in silence. Instead of dawdling at the threshold, he walked in as quietly as he could and sat next to her on the tatami mat.

Sayuri hardly stirred. From the corner of his eye, he saw that her attention was fixed on the portrait on the altar. If Gojo hadn’t known better, he would have been alarmed to see her likeness, but he had heard enough stories to know that this must be his late aunt, Kaori.

An urn sat in front of the framed photograph, and on either side of it, a pair of burning incense. Food offering of rice and a large Fuji apple filled the level below it, but also potato chips, kikufuku, and an expensive brand of foreign chocolate.

From what Gojo heard, his aunt had only been to the city once in her life, and her upbringing with Sayuri  was bereft of normal childhood pleasures like junk food and pop culture mania. He guessed these were food his mother would’ve loved to share with her.

The lowest level of the altar contained five identical porcelain jars surrounded by freshly picked flowers, likely from the vast garden outside.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go out to greet you.” She blew her nose in her handkerchief and glanced around. Her face was unusually pink and her eyes puffy, but Gojo could not comment on them.

 “Where is Utahime?” she asked.

“With Dad in the kitchen. He told me to come see if you’re awake.”

When she sighed, it came with a pained sound from her throat. She brushed her loose hair over her back and straightened her spine, suddenly formal. “We had a fight. I didn’t mean for this to be awkward, especially since Utahime’s here.”

Gojo didn’t know what to say. He had never seen them fight before, or have dealt with its aftermath. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

She placed her hand over her heart. “I was telling my sister about you and how much you’ve grown. She would’ve been the best aunt. If she were around, you’d surely wish she was your mother instead. Kaori was prettier and kinder. She’s the kind of person who would carry the the weight of the world with a smile.”

“Did she respond?”

Sayuri chuckled. “Thankfully, no. You don’t want me to be that crazy.”

Gojo absently picked at the tatami mat beneath his finger. “Did dad know her well?”

“Well enough to feel her loss deeply.” She cleared her throat. On her lap, she was fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of her handkerchief. “We were together when we found her body.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I’m losing her in my head,” she whispered. “Her face. Her voice. I used to be able to have conversations with her because I knew exactly how she’d act and what she’d say, but now everything is one-sided.”

Gojo could only watch his mother. Her vulnerability scared him.

“I was telling her about you and all the good things that have happened so far,” she continued. “Satoshi came with me to pay his respects, and then I wondered aloud whether all the children we lost were also older now. I supposed she would know, because they would be with her.” Sayuri shook her head at the floor and muttered something, as though berating herself. “Satoshi’s been having a bad week, and the cold weather always makes his stump hurt, so we had a bit of back and forth about whether we should tell you about the miscarriages. I suppose if he sent you here, then he’s given me permission to talk to you about them.”

Gojo’s lips parted slowly, and his eyes drifted back to the five jars. “Are they…?”

“I lost three in the first trimester, one when he was six months along, and the other was stillborn. A girl.”

‘When?” He racked his brain for hints. For instances in his childhood that should’ve made it obvious. There should’ve been gossip—did everyone keep this a secret from him? He exhaled sharply, consumed by shock and disbelief. “I don’t recall anything.”

“My pregnancies after you were kept a secret even from the rest of the clan. Only a select few knew, because even after we removed all the traitors, there was always the threat of assassination. My mother and sister were  killed when news of their pregnancies came out.”

“But I was already born.”

“Anybody from our bloodline can produce the next Six Eyes after you. The fewer we are, the better.”

Gojo passed his hand down his face. So many thoughts ran through his mind all at once. He could’ve had siblings. He could’ve been an older brother. His mother’s prolonged absence from his life, the months where he wasn’t allowed to see her no matter how many tantrums he threw—now it made sense. The times he thought she no longer wanted him, she was actually in pain, grieving another child lost to her and Satoshi.

“Satoshi didn’t want to try anymore after the first two miscarriages, but I wanted a baby I could keep.” She dabbed her handkerchief over her cheeks. “When Satoshi brought me here, it all came back to me. We had plans, you know? We thought we’d raise you and your siblings here, but I guess fate had other things in store for us.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised in question, her lids still pink and swollen from crying. “For what?”

For stealing their dreams. For keeping them a prisoner of his powers. For making their lives all about him, when all they wanted was to suffer the average highs and lows of a typical family. He should say these things, but he couldn’t. For once, he knew his mother would hate it, and if he weren’t the strongest, then where would Megumi and Tsumiki be? Would he have ever met Utahime? Who would stand up to Suguru now that he was hell-bent on destroying all of them?

“It would’ve been a nice life,” he whispered. “I think I would’ve liked being an older brother, but to be honest, they might’ve just resented me.” The idea made him chuckle, even as his heart sank. “I tend to make people’s lives difficult.”

“Oh, don’t sulk.” She lowered her hand over his on the floor. “You never made our lives difficult. Circumstances did that. I’m just glad we’re all together, and we have a chance to tell you these things.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I proposed to Utahime.”

Color rose to her face, and she covered her mouth as she gasped. “Is that why you wanted to meet? Did she say yes? Of course, she did! Have you told your father? I have to tell your father!”

She was on her way up to stand when they heard Satoshi yelling her name from the other side of the house. His heavy footfalls reverberated through the walls, and Gojo would’ve been alarmed had he not heard what Satoshi said next.

“I saw a ring! A diamond ring! My son proposed to a girl!”

Gojo followed his mother out with quiet dread. He knew he tended to do the same to others to make them uncomfortable, and he did not enjoy getting a taste of his own medicine.

Sayuri hurried along the corridors in dainty strides, with Gojo lagging behind her. After two turns, they finally bumped into Satoshi and Utahime on the veranda. It was as if his parents had forgotten all ill-feeling towards one another, and nothing mattered now except Gojo.

Utahime maintained a nervous smile as she showed them the ring. Satoshi exclaimed over and over while studying it with unblinking eyes, and Sayuri could not stop sighing in appreciation. Gojo pulled Utahime’s hand away and told them to calm down, but they did not hear him. Their congratulations and questions about how it happened came with child-like excitement, so much so that it was almost cruel not to indulge them.

As Gojo and Utahme insisted on their vastly differing versions of events, he realized his parents were his foreshadowing. His life with Utahime would be wrought with countless restrictions and broken dreams. Things would not go according to plan. Their ideals would be sacrificed at the altar of sorcery’s horrid realities, and they would have bad days. Many bad days they would not share with anyone, especially their children. They would be a unit of two with secrets of their own, just like their parents did, but they would be alright.

His life with Utahime would be far from perfect, but he hoped their love would be.

Author’s Note: Part two of this family get together in the next chapter! This chapter is in reference to First Cut Chapter 52: Outro, where Satoshi talks about ‘all the children we lost’ to Sayuri in his will.

I really wanted Gojo and Utahime’s interactions with Satoshi and Sayuri to feel natural and realistic. Gojo being a little awkward and unsure around them feels right to me since we’ve experienced walking on eggshells around our parents when coming home to a tense atmosphere. Exploring his thoughts and insecurities makes him such an appealing character to me, especially because his clowning feels like (to me) a facade or at least a way to cope with the stressors in his life.

Also, I would hate to make Satoshi and Sayuri look like the perfect couple, because they surely had their bad moments in the chaotic years they protected Satoru as a child.