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When Utahime was little, all she’d ever wanted to be was helpful. While her innate cursed technique was deeply coveted, she was aware enough to know she would never be the strongest in the room. She wasn’t meant to be the strongest but to make everyone around her stronger. That was admirable in itself. Few people, especially sorcerers, were humble enough to raise people to levels about them without wounding their own egos in the process.
She was respectful. Obedient. Loyal. She listened carefully, performed her duties, did all her homework and chores without ever being told.
Utahime was a good girl, everyone said so, even the Higher-Ups she sometimes crossed paths with.
Except when it came to one thing: her omega status.
Everyone in her family were betas, so she’d expected to present the same. The unfortunate truth, which she hadn’t learned until she was eight years old, was that all holders of Soro Soro Kinku, the cursed technique passed down through her clan, presented as omegas. No one knew why – and it was stupid, in her opinion – but no one was surprised when she wasn’t a beta.
Utahime didn’t want to be an omega. She wanted to help. She wanted to work. Omegas, even those with enough energy to be considered a third or second-grade sorcerer, were rarely sent out into the field or on missions. Even then, they never went alone. Utahime had already accepted that solo missions weren’t in her future – after all, her cursed technique revolved around boosting other sorcerers – but she loathed the idea of being shackled.
Soro Soro Kinku skipped a generation. Her great-aunt had it as well, though it wasn’t as strong as Utahime’s incarnation. She’d never gotten past that of a semi-second grade, married right after she graduated high school, and only used her technique as ordered. Utahime didn’t want that life. She wanted to be someone. She wanted to explore. She wanted people to want her, not for her omega status but because she was a bright spot in a dark world.
So when the Higher-Ups requested her presence for an important meeting, Utahime couldn’t help but beam with pride. She preened, brushing her hair until it was shiny, smoothing out the lovely kimono her great aunt and mother had wrapped her in. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in sight, her expression impassive and cursed energy serene even for only a child of twelve.
“This is your first mission,” one of the elders had told her as they guided her into a large room.
Only for her to be sat next to the most annoying brat of an alpha she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Everyone in Jujutsu society was aware of who Gojo Satoru was. Curses, sorcerers, and curse users alike all knew his name and his abilities. Holder of Six Eyes and Limitless, special grade sorcerer by four years old, future head of the Gojo clan – he might have only been ten, but he was already a force to be reckoned with. Like her, no one had been surprised when he presented as an alpha, but having presented early posed a problem.
On top of his unfathomable amount of cursed energy, Satoru was too young and inexperienced to control the temperamental nature of his alpha status. At ten years old, he couldn’t properly go into a rut, which meant he had no means to temper the behavioral issues that came with being an alpha. He was unruly, both in manners and cursed energy, which was dangerous considering how strong he was. He could easily lose control and destroy something if he threw a fit, if only because he had no means of calming himself.
Satoru had left devastation in his wake, leaving a trail of wounded omegas behind. His clan had tried to give him older omega caretakers in hopes of soothing his wild behavior, but he was disinterested in them at best and cruel with them at worst. Betas couldn’t handle him, and he openly snapped at other alphas, even his distant cousin, who was the current head of the Gojo clan. Both his family and the Higher-Ups were at their wits’ ends when it came to dealing with him, which was how they’d come up with one last-ditch plan.
Pair him up with her in hopes that her unusually soothing and pleasant cursed energy might placate him.
It did not start well, not when he insulted her upon their first meeting. After bowing politely and introducing herself, Satoru looked her up and down, a bored look on his face, and flatly stated, “You’re weak. What are you doing here?”
Utahime struggled not to bristle as she straightened upright, but she still held out her hand. “I was called upon by the Higher-Ups to attend the meeting.”
“What for?” Satoru asked. “I don’t know what good use you’d be.”
Utahime’s hand fell. “It’s rude to question–”
Before she could finish, Satoru snatched her hand away from her side, but instead of shaking it like a normal person, he held the inside of her wrist to his nose and sniffed. “Omega? You’re not even old enough for these old farts to ogle. You don’t have a reason to be here.”
Utahime jerked her hand out of his grasp and clutched it against her chest like he’d hurt her “You–” Her cheeks flushed pink, a toxic mixture of humiliation and anger flaring, and her eyes widened with shock. “Don’t be so crude! You can’t just grab an omega like that!”
Satoru tilted his head, not curious or confused, his expression still bored. “Why not?”
“It’s rude,” Utahime reprimanded, sounding more hurt than firm, which frustrated her. “You could’ve–”
He could’ve scented her in a way that would’ve marked her for every alpha to notice. Touching an omega was one thing, but touching an omega’s scent glands was considered intimate. She’d watched such behavior in mated pairs growing up, both wondering what it would be like and growing wary of it at the same time. It could be a form of comfort, soothing both omegas and alphas alike, but it was also considered a sign of ownership. Satoru had come dangerously close to scenting her in a way no alpha had ever dared before.
“Whatever,” Satoru huffed. “Do you like video games? These meetings are always so boring.”
Utahime hadn’t been sure what the Higher-Ups had in mind when they brought her along for this gathering, but she was almost positive it wasn’t to sit in the corner of the room with a boy and watch him play his Game Boy Color.
Nonetheless, that was where she was forced to sit for the majority of the meeting. It was a gathering between the Higher-Ups and upper-ranked members of the big three clans, not just the Gojo clan. As the future head and the holder of two incredibly powerful cursed techniques that shifted the balance of Jujutsu and the world, Satoru was forced to attend, though he didn’t attempt to pay attention. Utahime tried, curious and determined to prove herself, but every time her attention strayed to the adults, Satoru would tug on her sleeve and insist she watch him.
Even worse, despite his dismissive comments, Satoru pressed his body against her side, practically nuzzling into her. When she asked him if he was cold, he simply furrowed his brow and gave her a weird look, then went back to leaning against her and playing his game. Every time one of the adults peered back at them, she stiffened, unsure whether to push him away. Surely, with him being the heir to the Gojo clan, she would be looked at askance. This bordered on inappropriate, even if she wasn’t the one invading his space.
But no one said a word to either of them or moved to scold her. In fact, aside from a few curious glances, they were barely acknowledged. Utahime could only drown in helpless confusion as Satoru rubbed himself all over her, to the point where she knew she’d reek of the untamed alpha for days, no matter how hard she scrubbed. It was like he’d taken her refusal as a personal challenge. He wouldn’t mark her scent glands directly, but everyone would know of his presence. No doubt her great aunt would wrinkle her nose. The other beta women in her family would be spared.
After a while though, not even the game could distract Satoru, and he began to grow restless. Not only was he squirming against her, but his cursed energy started to boil to the surface. Even though he was still a child, it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, even a mere hint of his strength overwhelming her. Some of the adults began to shift uncomfortably, tempers rising when they’d been speaking in civil terms before, especially when his alpha scent flared abruptly.
Utahime desparged, flailing on the inside as his intense cursed energy and alpha scent threatened to sweep her under, so she did the only thing she could think of.
She began to hum.
It was a simple trick, one she’d picked up as a little girl. Whenever she was scared or overwhelmed or upset, she would hum under her breath. Truth be told, she had a lovely voice, even as a preteen. Everyone always commented on how she would grow to become a beautiful singer. A sorcerer’s voice could enhance their technique, but Soro Soro Kinku was especially sensitive to it. The records were foggy on whether a holder’s talent was tied to the technique or important to it, but it didn’t matter, not when hers stood out.
Within seconds, Satoru’s cursed energy, once at a rolling boil, fell into a low simmer, and his alpha scent, which had managed to overcome all the grown alphas in the room, drifted off. A palpable sigh of relief shuddered through the room as everyone relaxed. Utahime sank against the wall, but she didn’t stop humming, acutely aware of her cursed energy threaded through her voice.
Game forgotten in his lap, Satoru slumped against her side, blinking muzzily. “Your cursed energy is funny.”
Utahime stopped humming, twisting her neck to glare down at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Cursed energy is a result of negative emotions,” Satoru pointed out, rubbing the crown of his head against her. “It’s not supposed to feel nice.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond. Adults were looking at her again, clan members and Higher-Ups. She tried to subtly move Satoru off her so it didn’t look as inappropriate, but aside from shoving him onto the ground, she couldn’t disentangle herself from him.
Once the meeting resumed, Utahime flicked him on the forehead, and Satoru reared back. “Oi! What was that for?”
“You’re getting your scent all over me,” Utahime hissed.
Satoru sat upright, his brow furrowed in confusion as he rubbed his head. He held his hand in front of himself like he didn’t know what he was seeing, then rubbed his head again. She hadn’t hit him hard at all, so she couldn’t understand why he was acting like it was the strangest thing in the world. Had he never been hit before? Surely, with his cursed techniques, he was forced to train them as much as possible. He was meant to be the strongest sorcerer.
“What’s wrong with that?” Satoru asked.
“Have you not spent any time around omegas?” Utahime asked. “It’s unbecoming of an unmated omega to smell like an alpha – even one as young as you.”
“You’re still young too,” Satoru pointed out. “Isn’t that more dangerous for an omega?”
Utahime bristled. “I can take care of myself just fine.”
“Sure,” Satoru replied, rolling his eyes, “but with my scent on you, no one will come close, not one of these old alpha bastards or the curses that wanna gobble you up.”
“I don’t need your stupid alpha scent on me,” Utahime snapped. “You’re just a kid – a baby alpha.”
“Not yet,” Satoru taunted.
Utahime folded her arms. “Oh, what do you know anyway?”
“More than you.”
“Sure.”
Instead of arguing with him further – because she was not going to lower herself to arguing with a brat, even if he was above her in terms of status, wealth, and strength – Utahime returned her attention to the meeting, refusing to look at him. Luckily for her, Satoru didn’t seem to care either way, pulling a different game out of his pocket and inserting it into the back of the Game Boy.
When the meeting finished, a member of the Gojo clan came to collect Satoru. Once again, she politely bowed and thanked him for his company, even if she hadn’t enjoyed it. She still wasn’t sure why she’d been brought along for this, but everyone seemed pleased and relieved, one Higher-Up even commenting on Satoru’s unusually respectful behavior.
Satoru opened his mouth to argue, then shut it, his brow furrowed in confusion once more. Aside from his little flare-up and spat with Utahime, he had been relatively obedient. He narrowed his blue eyes at her, like she’d done something to him. She didn’t react until she was sure none of the adults were watching them and stuck out her tongue. He snarled, then pulled at the bottom of his eye and stuck out his tongue back at her.
After the Gojo clan left, Utahime let out a sigh of relief, only to startle when a hand fell to her shoulder.
“You did very well, Utahime,” a Higher-Up told her.
It was a successful mission, the first of many to come. Utahime wished she could say she burned with pride. All she’d ever wanted to be was helpful, and here she was, already lending a hand to the sorcerers who shaped Jujutsu society as they knew it. However, in the aftermath of this so-called first mission, she felt little more like a tool, used only as needed and then tossed aside.
When the Higher-Up walked away, Utahime was quick to swipe at her shoulder. Not that it mattered. His alpha scent faded almost immediately, taken over by Satoru’s much stronger one. The little shit was right: no one could come close to him.
Still wearing a smile of obedience, Utahime bit back the urge to snarl, so unlike other omegas, her hands balled into fists at her side as she left the room alone. She wouldn’t be used, not like her great aunt. She would be more than that. She’d show them – the Higher-Ups, the clans, even Gojo Satoru. Unlike every holder of Soro Soro Kinku before her, she would not be the subservient omega or sorcerer, the gods be damned.