The fluorescent lights of the bar buzzed overhead. Empty glasses and crumpled napkins littered the table, a testament to the Jujutsu Sorcerers’ attempts to unwind after a particularly grueling meeting with the higher-ups.

Utahime’s face was flushed, her usually sharp eyes slightly glazed. Her words, which were normally measured and precise, were now slurred and laced with an amusing level of indignation. Gojo found it endearing.

He had been needling her all night, as was their custom. A comment about her "adorable" attempts to strategize, a jab at her preferred form of attack, the usual playful taunts that usually sent Utahime's temper flaring. It was their dynamic, a dance of playful antagonism. Tonight, however, Utahime’s irritation was amplified by the copious amounts of sake she had consumed.

“Satoru, you…you insufferable…,” she muttered as she waved a finger at him, nearly knocking over a half-empty glass. Gojo’s smirk widened. He loved her attempts at frustration.

As the last of their colleagues stumbled out the door, it became clear that Utahime was far too drunk to navigate her way back to the Jujutsu Tech Dormitory. She tried to stand, only to wobble precariously, her hand gripping the table for balance.

Sighing dramatically, Gojo stood. “Alright, Utahime-sensei,” he said, using her title with deliberate exaggeration. “Looks like it’s up to the strongest sorcerer to save you from your own questionable life choices.”

Utahime glared at him as best she could, her lips forming a pout. “Don’t…don’t call me…sensei,” she slurred. “You…you’re younger than me….”

“Technically, yes,” Gojo admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. He bent down, easily scooping her into a bridal carry. He plucked her high heels from the floor with his free hand.

Utahime let out a surprised yelp, her eyes widening slightly, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. “Put…put me down,” she protested weakly.

Gojo started walking towards the door, ignoring her protests. “You’re in no condition to walk, Utahime-sensei."