The Amazing Spider— …Yuji?
Yuji Itadori doesn’t mind being tired.
He doesn’t mind skipping lunch to visit the hospital.
He doesn’t mind smiling when his chest feels too tight.
He doesn't mind when the world starts screaming.
After a spider bite leaves his senses sharpened beyond human limits, Yuji must decide whether this new power is a curse—or the first thing that has ever made him feel free.
The apartment felt heavier in the mornings now.
Yuji Itadori stood in the doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder, staring back at the place he used to share with his grandpa—quiet, cramped, and always filled with the smell of old books and worn-out blankets.
Without the soft muttering of morning radio, without the gruff “Eat your breakfast, brat,” the air felt wrong. Too still. Too empty.
He shook the thought off with a practiced breath.
“Alright,” he whispered to no one. “Let’s make today good.”
He flicked off the lights, locked the door, and started running.
Yuji wasn’t late.
He was almost late.
A subtle but very, very important difference—at least to him.
He sprinted down the street with athletic ease, hair whipping in the wind, passing vendors who already knew him well.
“Mornin’, kid!”
“Bring home another trophy today!”
“Yuji! You forgot your jacket yesterday—again!”
He waved back at each voice, grinning despite the tightness in his chest.
Even when life felt heavy, Yuji carried it like it weighed nothing. That was his thing—the sunshine boy with the world quietly stacked on his shoulders.
Once he reached campus, he practically vaulted over the school gate and landed perfectly on the other side.
A group of track team members who witnessed it groaned.
“Yuji, join track already!”
“You’re wasting that talent!”
“Dude, that jump was illegal!”
He laughed. “My legs are free-range, sorry!”
He bolted into the hallway.
Ten seconds to the bell.
Ten seconds? Plenty of time.
He shot down the corridor, dodging backpacks and startled students, tossing greetings like confetti:
“Yo, Hana!”
“Nice haircut, Shiro!”
“Kenji, good luck on chem!”
“Hi! Morning! Love the earrings!”
Nearly everyone knew him.
Nearly everyone liked him.
But no one stood consistently at his side.
He didn’t mind.
(He did, but he didn’t look at that feeling too closely.)
He skidded around the last turn, slammed the classroom door open—
“MADE IT!” he shouted triumphantly.
Half the class clapped.
A few mocked a golf cheer.
The teacher sighed like this was routine.
“Itadori… sit down, please.”
Yuji plopped into his seat—still breathing hard, still smiling, still pretending he wasn’t worried about the empty apartment, the too-quiet mornings, the sterile smell of the hospital room waiting after school.
He took out his notebook.
Tapped his pencil.
Let himself breathe.
He had decided it would be.
He didn’t know it yet, but this was the last morning where his life would feel normal—the last day where the world expected nothing extraordinary from Yuji Itadori.
The school day didn’t unfold so much as rush past him, like life had decided to hold down the fast-forward button just to see if he’d keep up. Yuuji dashed through the gates right as the bell shrieked its warning, hair still tousled by the wind and breath sharp in his chest. A couple of students cheered when they saw him make it, like he’d just won some obscure morning Olympics he never signed up for.
From there, it was a blur — not messy, just… sped-up. Teachers talking, chalk hitting boards, worksheets sliding across desks. He understood the lessons, of course; he always did. But today his brain kept wandering back to a quiet hospital room where a stubborn old man pretended he wasn’t tired.
Even so, Yuuji’s smile didn’t falter.
Someone waved? He waved back.
Someone needed help? He jumped in.
Someone cracked a joke? He laughed louder than anyone.
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