sukuna x curse user!reader | modern au; sukuna is a sorcerer at tokyo jujutsu high; angst & fluff | drabble | what happens when a mission goes wrong? | 1.6k words
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"They got ambushed–"
Satoru had barely gotten five syllables out before his fellow salmon-haired sorcerer barrelled past him, through the open shoji, and down the corridor. It was all he needed to hear; Satoru's words put colour into the nightmares he had been having all night about this stupid goddamn mission Yaga had sent you and Mei Mei on.
In the stillness of Sukuna's dorm, now empty and the door still half-slid into the wall, Satoru huffs and runs a hand through his white hair.
The instructions were clear: Exorcise three grade one curses. It was not meant to be some big thing; maybe four hours maximum. A stupid haunted high school. A sorcerer of your calibre, and indeed Mei's, may get this done in less than that time. He has seen with his very eyes: You, standing in the middle of Shibuya, cutting through a swarm of curses like it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience (your arm got burnt at one point, but nothing Shoko couldn't heal). Or that one time you and Utahime were stuck in a time loop as teenagers; you managed to solve that one on your own with ease.
Sukuna remembers peering over the edge of the crater the curse had left; you were dusting off your hands like a chore had just been completed while Utahime looked like she wanted to cry real tears. It was one of his first interactions with you and at that point, he might have even called it love at first sight.
Everything you do is based on impulse and confidence. If he didn't completely adore you in his own silent and gruff way, one might even say it is competition. Satoru once said that you are reflections of each other.
Last night, Sukuna could not find sleep.
Not properly anyway – he remembers drifting in and out, while his hand kept crawling over to your side of the bed to make sure you were still next to him. For most of the night, he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling or at some points with his red eyes closed, just listening to the quiet rhythm of your breathing beside him.
In the morning, just as you were about to leave the dorm, his hand caught your wrist. Sukuna had been silent all morning, and tense since he found out Yaga wanted to send you and Mei Mei on the mission.
The silent treatment had become unbearable, but you knew what he wanted to say.
"At least let me come with you." He practically begged, which was a rare thing. "I have a bad feeling about this one."
"I'm not weak."
He sighed, hand still latched onto you. "I'm not saying that."
You raised an eyebrow at him, body still half-turned towards the door. Sukuna recalls the bite in your tone as you said, “We deal with grade ones all the time. You’ve seen me handle worse.”
“I have,” he had said with just as much force. “Which is exactly why you don’t need to prove anything by going on this one.”
Your expression hardened slightly at that, eyebrows drawing together.
“I’m not proving anything.”
“Then don’t go.”
“It’s my assignment, Ryo.”
“And?”
The word came out much harsher than he initially intended, but he did not take it back. Nothing was soft about his demeanour, from the hardened look on his face, to the way he was practically spitting his words, and then his hard grip on your wrist.
“And I’m going,” you replied decisively. "I'll be back by sunset and then we can go have dinner together, okay?"
A frustrated groan rips through his throat like a growl. Memories of last night and this morning's tense exchange blur the hallways into melted colours, wooden panels and curious students all meld as he zips past to the infirmary. Beneath the sturdy exterior of his inked chest, his heart pounds so hard that it is making him lightheaded with worry for you.
He told you not to go. Of course, you went anyway. Of course you did; even though Sukuna had spent the whole of last night and this morning beseeching you not to go.
Yaga can send Satoru. That man alone can wipe out a whole colony if needed. Better yet, the higher ups could have sent Suguru with him.
Stupid, stubborn girl.
The words sit heavy in his chest as Sukuna rips the infirmary door open, and he barely even registers the damn thing almost falling off its hinges as it rebounds on the wall like a gunshot.
Breathing in sharply, the run here has burnt through his lungs; the smell of antiseptic and bleach fills his nostrils. And there, under the fluorescence, you are sitting up in a hospital bed with your eyes wide.
The world melts away; Sukuna's mind blanks completely.
He blinks at the sight of your jaw and neck, marred by clean stitching, pulling torn skin together which is still bloody and raw. Something in his chest drops and his feet are moving toward you at inhuman speed before his mind even registers what he is doing.
His thick and strong arms brace your entire body, pulling you into the hardness of his chest. You feel him breathe you in, finally catching his breath. The hug is intensely tight, like he is scared someone will rip you from him; you can feel his fingers curling into the fabric at your back with so much force that it is starting to dig in a little.
"I told you not to go." He says it again, like it is going to take away all the hurt and danger you had put yourself through. "Stupid woman."
In his grip, he feels your shoulders slump a little and a quiet sniffle into his chest.
"I'm sorry, Ryo–"
"You can't do that to me," he manages to say through gritted teeth, burying his nose into the top of your hair. "You could have– died, I don't know–"
The thought is unbearable. And Sukuna hates that word.
Unbearable implies weakness. The word itself implies there is something he cannot endure which is a part of him he will never let anyone see; your loss is unfortunately something that has the power to unmake him. He has spent his entire life proving that usually nothing has that effect.
Sukuna's grip on you loosens as you pull away and he sees your eyes, red-rimmed and glassy with moisture. Your bottom lip juts out just enough for something in his chest to shatter and his hand slides up your shoulder to your jaw.
With a heavy sigh, he tilts your face in his hand, sharp red eyes examining the jagged cut running from the other side of your jaw to your chest. You see your pink-haired boyfriend force control back into his breathing and into his posture.
His eyes flicker to meet yours now.
"Shoko did a good job."
The corner of your lips twitch. "Maybe we should take her out on the field next mission."
"This isn't funny," he says firmly. "Do you know how worried I was?"
"I really am sorry– are you mad at me?"
This earns a scoff from him. The lines on his face soften a little.
"Mad?” he repeats under his breath. He huffs. "I'm mad you didn't listen– can you for one second just imagine if– if you didn't get out on time? You would have been crushed–"
"I know–"
"No, you don't–" Sukuna cuts you short. "You talk about plans– the country side, having a million mini-me's running around– days where I'm brushing your hair when it's all grey and shit–do you know what it feels like for me when you put yourself in danger like that?"
Your teeth clamp down hard on your bottom lip in the silence. The taste of iron fills your mouth.
"I'm not going to feel like this again with anyone else," Sukuna continues gruffly. "You don't get to do this to me– do you understand, woman?"
You can almost see it in his eyes if you peer a little closer, but you close your own as you lean into his palm. His hand is big and warm and cupping the untorn side of your face where dried blood remains in splattered dots over unbroken skin. Tomorrow, you can deal with his foul mood. Tomorrow, maybe he will tell you that he wants you to retire from these missions.
"I'll trust your intuition from now on," you reassure sweetly. A moment passes where all he can do is let his thumb circle tenderly on your cheek. But then he eyes the sly smile toying at your lips. "If it makes you feel better, you can curse me a little so I never leave your side even if I do die, okay?"
Your boyfriend almost rolls his eyes.
Sukuna exhales sharply, his tense shoulders visibly slumping when you turn your face a little and press a chaste kiss to the skin of his palm. You don't look at him again for a moment, fearing that he will berate you even more than he has for your impulsiveness. Your stubbornness. Your tendency to make light of every situation where he wants you to take him seriously. Every trait that may one day get you killed.
What you see etched on his sharp features is vehement disappointment, worry, and deep, deep adoration.
But what lingers beneath it, what he does not say, is far less controlled. He has never been great with his words, and right now, he manages in his gruff voice to say, "Don't do that again".
What he really wants to verbalise, is 'please don’t ever leave me behind'.
The doors to the Jujutsu High teachers’ lounge slammed open so hard they bounced back with a loud bang.
Nanami's brow rose in irritation from his seat at the table with the daily newspaper in hand while Yaga paused in his knitting, his fingers halting over the newest cursed doll he had been conjuring up.
Even Gojo, who was laying sideways on the couch with a cup of bubble tea, tilted his head curiously at the sudden intrusion.
Itadori stumbled in first, his breaths ragged, his face pale as his wide eyes darted around the room. Megumi followed close behind, his shoulders stiff with tension.
The previous warmth that filled the lounge stilled instantly.
"Heyyy!" Gojo's sing-song voice was the first to break the silence. "Look at you two! Did ____ beat you up in training or something?” His usual playful tone carried a smirk as he added, “Don’t tell me my favorite kouhai is out there gloating while you come running to cry like sore losers.”
At the mention of your name Itadori froze mid-wheeze, his eyes going wide. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Gojo’s smirk faded instantly, the playful edge in his tone faltering. "What happened?"
Nanami set down his papers with deliberate care as his narrowed gaze looked between the boys. Yaga had leaned back in his chair at this point, his usual firm expression growing darker as he took in the sight of them.
Itadori ran a shaky hand through his hair. "She...she's—"
“Move, move, move! Let me through!”
Nobara stormed in, dragging a thoroughly exasperated Maki behind her. The spectacled teen's hair was slightly mussed, her usually neat uniform wrinkled as she scowled.
“The fact I let you to drag me along this shit...” Maki muttered darkly, her voice laced with irritation.
“Yeah yeah whatever. You'd do anything for ____,” Nobara replied dismissively, her arms loaded with shopping bags.
Seconds later Panda and Inumaki followed them also carrying an array of bags. Panda, grinning like a child, sported a fuzzy white sweater that seemed just a size too small.
Meanwhile Inumaki had a pair of sleek sunglasses perched on his nose making him look unbothered and far too cool for the chaos he’d walked into.
“Yo! We’re back!” Panda announced proudly, holding up his bags. “Check it out—look at this sweater! So stylish right?”
“Salmon,” Inumaki added with a nod of approval, adjusting his sunglasses.
Nobara ignored them, her sharp eyes scanning the room until she landed on Megumi and Itadori. Her brow furrowed immediately.
“Speaking of ____, where's my favorite partner-in-crime?” she asked as she dropped the bags unceremoniously to the floor. “I found the cutest top and sweaters for her—she's gonna love it!”
Itadori flinched again, his face twisting into an expression of pure guilt. The silence that followed her question was deafening.
Nobara’s playful tone vanished in an instant. “Where is she?” she demanded, her voice sharp.
Megumi took a deep breath in attempt to keep his voice low and controlled. “The mission we were sent on...The Grade 2—”
“Grade 2?!” Itadori interrupted, his voice rising as his frustration boiled over. “It was not a Grade 2! That thing was way above our level—”
Thunk!
Nobara slammed her fist down on Itadori’s head making him stumble forward. “Shut up and let him finish idiot!”
Itadori groaned rubbing the back of his head. “Fine fine…”
The argument sparked a chain reaction.
“What kind of curse was it?” Maki asked sharply.
“Why didn't you call for backup?” Panda chimed in a scolding way.
“Salmon roe,” Inumaki added pointedly.
“Shut the hell up. All of you!”
The voice was gruff and mocking, its origin unmistakable as everyone turned their attention to Itadori’s cheek.
Sukuna’s mouth curled into a wicked grin, his crimson eye gleaming with malice.
“Finally,” he sneered, “I thought I was going to have to listen to you brats cry all night. The little broad? Yeah, she got sucked into a portal by a curse way out of your league.” He chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with derision. “Not that it matters. She’s probably dead by now.”
The room froze.
For a second no one moved. The weight of Sukuna’s words hanging in the air like a guillotine un—
“WHAT?!” The uncharacteristic outburst came from Inumaki, his usual restraint shattered in an instant.
"Dead?!" Nobara wailed, her arms flailing dramatically as she dropped her shopping bag. "Are you serious?! She’s not—she can’t be—”
“Shut up!” Maki’s voice cut through the chaos as she slammed a hand down on the table, her sharp glare pinning Sukuna in place. “What the hell do you mean ‘out of our league’?”
“Exactly what I said four-eyes,” Sukuna sneered, his gaze flicking lazily to her before settling back on the panicked group.
“Enough.”
The single word came from Yaga whose firm tone silenced the room instantly. His expression remained unreadable, but those who truly knew him noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw.
Megumi took a deep breath. “The curse...”
All eyes returned to ravenette. He looked down for a moment to collect his thoughts before raising his gaze once again.
“It wasn’t like anything we’ve fought before—much stronger than we anticipated," he began. "It could manipulate dimensions. The curse called itself Masato."
Nanami, who had remained silent up to this point, straightened slightly. "Masato? That name sounds familiar..."
"It wasn't normal," Megumi continued, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "It opened a portal right under her. We tried to stop it, but…” His voice trailed off as his composure wavered.
“She was gone,” Itadori finished weakly, voice barely above a whisper.
Gojo’s posture was unusually still. Even with his eyes covered, his displeasure was clear to see.
"Sukuna."
The atmosphere was cold, tense as Gojo turned his head toward Itadori—or more specifically toward the grinning mouth on his cheek. “You seem to know more than you’re letting on. Care to share with the class?”
Sukuna's mouth curled into a mockingly thoughtful smirk. "Maybe I do....maybe I don't."
The tension in the room grew so thick it was almost suffocating.
“Oh come one…” Gojo’s voice was light, though the edge in his tone was unmistakable. "This is the child of the Principle of Tokyo's Jujutsu High we're talking about! You’re really gonna tear this poor man’s family apart like that?”
Gojo tilted his head slightly toward Yaga who remained stone-faced. But the slight clenching of his hands as they rested on the desk betrayed the concern he wasn’t voicing
Sukuna’s grin widened. “Child huh? Could’ve sworn she was adopted.”
The air shifted.
Gojo took a step closer,his tone dropping to a dangerous calm. "Sukuna," he repeated the King of Curses name.
Gojo’s expression didn’t change, but a faint hum of cursed energy crackled in the air around him.
“If you know anything about how to get her back you’ll tell us,” he said, his voice colder now. There was no room for argument in his voice—it was an order.
The room felt frozen, it felt almost too tense to even breathe as the two powerhouses sized each other up.
For a moment Sukuna simply stared at Gojo, the grin never faltering. Then he let out a sinister laugh. "Fine fine. I'll tell you something...for a price."
Sukuna's grin widened. "Nothing in this world is free Satoru. You want her back? It’s gonna cost you. And trust me…” His voice dropped, almost a purr. “The price won’t be cheap.”
The cool night air nipped at your skin as you climbed in through Miles’ window, his hand firmly on the small of your back to help steady you.
He moved quickly, already crouching inside his dimly lit room as he pressed a finger to his lips.
“Shh!” he whispered barely above a breath. “Just a heads-up, my parents are not only super light sleepers, but also not cool with the whole sneaking-a-girl-through-my-window thing. So y’know, the whole interdimensional-traveler-from-an-anime-universe thing would probably make their heads explode.”
You shot him an unimpressed look, brushing the dust off your uniform as you landed softly on his carpet. “Noted,” you whispered back dryly as your eyes began to scan the room.
A small lone lamp in the corner casted a soft yellow glow over the space, illuminating the walls lines with posters of graffiti art, vibrant sketches, and a few music icons you vaguely recognized.
A cluttered desk sat in another corner, covered in half-filled sketchbooks, cans of spray paint, and what looked like a half-finished design he’d been working on.
The bed, unmade and covered in a navy-blue blanket, sat beneath a few shelves stacked with books, comics, and what looked like action figures.
Messy yes, but in a way that felt...lived in.
Miles scratched the back of his neck once he caught your staring, his lips twitching into a bashful smile.
“Uh yeah. Welcome to Casa Morales,” he gestures dramatically as he moved further into the room. “Not exactly Jujutsu High, but it’s home.”
You ignore his attempt at humor. Your body was still tense from the events of earlier, your mind racing to figure out where you were, what was going on, and—most importantly—who this boy was.
He offered you a small smile and gestured toward his bed. “You can sit here if you want.”
You didn’t move, choosing to stay near the window. “I’m fine standing. Just start talking.”
Miles blinked. “Right. Yeah. Okay, but first…” He reached up, tugging at the edge of his suit mask. And as the mask slipped off, you found yourself momentarily caught off guard once again.
The dim light in the room hit him differently.
His skin glowed warmly under the soft glow of the lamp and his honey-colored eyes sparkled with a kind of youthful energy that was hard to ignore. His hair was cut in a clean fade, the tight dark curls on top so fluffy and healthy it almost felt unfair.
He looked…boyish. Young. He couldn’t have been much older than you—sixteen at most.
And yet there was something about him that made you pause.
You realized you were staring, snapping yourself out of it, straightening and forcing your expression back into its usual guarded state.
“Stop stalling,” you fold your arms. “You still haven’t explained how you know everything about me.”
His smile turned sheepish.
“Fair point. Anyway, uh—come here!” He practically bounced toward the bookshelf above his bed.
You move over to his desk to lean against. “Alright Morales,” you said, quirking an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”
Miles didn’t answer right away. Instead he squinted his eyes, scanning the shelves with a focused expression before letting out a triumphant, “Aha!”
Pulling out a comic book, he holds it up like it was a trophy.
“This,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement. “This is how.”
You tilt your head as you step closer to get a better look. Edges slightly worn from use, the glossy cover of the comic stared back at you causing your breath to hitch.
It was you.
The artwork was stunning as it captured you mid-action. Your figure stood in the center of the page, fiercely staring down the viewer with a vague smirk tugging at your lips.
Your hands were outstretched with cursed energy crackling around you as the world behind you was frozen solid—time itself locked under your control.
The title in bold letters read: Jujutsu Kaisen Gaiden: The Path of ____
“…What the hell is this?” you muttered, reaching out to take the book from him.
“That’s you,” Miles said proudly, grinning ear to ear. “The Jujutsu Kaisen manga is huge here. Like...huge. This issue is a special one—a sort of in-between-arcs, and it’s one of my favorites. I mean look at you! You look so badass.”
You hesitated before flipping it open, the pages feeling oddly heavy in your hands. The first panel was a memory—a scene you could never forget.
It was the day Yaga—Masamichi—took you in. You couldn’t have been older than seven, your small hands clutching a scarf too big for your neck as he knelt in front of you, his face kind but serious.
Your chest tightened as you stared at the page. You flipped to the next panel, your stomach twisting as you saw more memories.
The years you spent with Megumi flashed by—how he would summoning his shikigami for fun before you had mastered your freezing techniques, how you both used to hide under the school steps when you wanted to skip chores.
Another page.
The moment you met Yuji for the first time, your staff swinging toward him as he dodged at the last second. You remembered the way he grinned at you as though he hadn’t been intimidated in the slightest.
The panels flowed like a movie reel, showing moments you had long thought belonged to you alone:
Late nights spent sneaking extra snacks from the school kitchen with Megumi. A quiet moment in the garden where you sat with Yuji, his head tilted toward the sky as he talked about his grandpa’s last words.
Things that had happened in private. Moments you’d only shared with your closest friends.
It was all there...everything was there.
“This...this isn’t possible,” you whispered, your fingers trembling as you turned the pages. “How did you do all this?”
Miles was quiet for a moment as he shifted on his feet. “It wasn't me,” he said cautiously. “It was an manga artist, his name is Gege Akutami. I told you—you’re a character in my world. People read about you.”
You stared at him then down at the book in your hands. It was too much. It was all too much.
But then you reached the final pages of comic and your heart sank. The fight with Masato—the curse that had dragged you into this mess—was laid out in shocking detail.
You could see every strike, every movement, every moment you had shared with Yuji and Megumi as the three of you fought....
And then the panel of you falling into the portal.
Your hand was outstretched, reaching for Yuji and Megumi as they desperately reached back. The expression on your face—fear, determination, and sadness—was captured so vividly it made your stomach turn.
“That’s…that’s where it ends,” Miles said softly, pointing to the panel. “No one knows what happens after that. Been a huge cliffhanger for months actually.”
You slammed the comic shut, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.
“This is insane,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “How does your world know all of this? How can I be—” You stopped yourself, unable to even say the word.
“A character?” Miles offered gently. “I know it’s a lot. Believe me, I’d freak out too if I were in your shoes.”
You turned away as you clutch the book tightly. The fight, the portal, the look on Yuji and Megumi’s faces as you disappeared—it was all burned into your memory.
And now seeing it again, drawn on a comic page for strangers to consume as entertainment...
Before you could spiral too far, Miles grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward his desk.
“Hey hey—don’t get all gloomy on me now,” he said, his voice light and reassuring. “Let me show you something cool!”
You let him pull you along, your curiosity overriding the heaviness in your chest. He sits you down at his desk-chair and quickly wakes up his computer.
The screen flickered to life and he began typing furiously, pulling up tabs faster than you could process.
“Alright...check this out,” he said, spinning the monitor toward you.
You were met with endless fan art—your face in every style imaginable, from detailed realism to exaggerated chibi drawings.
One image showed you standing shoulder to shoulder with Megumi and Yuji, snowflakes falling around the three of you, while another depicted you mid-fight, your staff raised high and ice shards surrounding you like a storm.
“People love you,” Miles babbled as he scrolled through the images. “Look at this one—oh and this! And there are fan polls too. Like, tons of them. Who’s stronger, you or Gojo? Who’s your best ship? People even debate your favorite food. It’s wild!”
“Ship?” you echoed, leaning closer.
“Yeah, like who you’re supposed to end up with romantically.”
Your brain short-circuited for a moment, but before you could demand clarification, something on the screen caught your eye.
You point at the screen. “What’s that one?”
“Oh that’s a fan theory about your technique,” Miles explained, clicking on the post. “People think you’re gonna unlock some next-level time-freezing ability soon. They call it Chrono Dominion. Sounds pretty sick right?”
You could only blink. “I don’t even know what that is.”
Miles laughed. “Yeah well fans go crazy with theories. Oh and here’s your wiki page!” He clicked on another tab, revealing a detailed biography filled with stats, trivia, and even a popularity ranking.
You squinted at the screen, your voice flat. “Why does it say my favorite food is taiyaki? That’s not true.”
Miles grinned sheepishly. “Uh…artistic license?”
As he scrolled, a tab briefly flashed across the screen. Your caught glimpse of it made your brows furrow—Rule 34: ____ [NSFW], it blinked innocently among the others.
“Wait—what was that?” you asked, leaning forward and clicking.
Miles froze, his entire body stiffening as an array of pictures appear. “Nothing! It’s nothing!” he nearly shrieks, quickly closing the tab with a flustered expression.
Your eyes narrowed. “Was that…? Was that...hentai?!”
“No! No no no!” Miles said as he waves his hands frantically. His face flushed as he laughed nervously. “I mean not on purpose! It’s—it’s the internet! Stuff like that just happens! I wasn’t even looking at it—”
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You can feel your face heat up as you turn away horrified. “What are you, some kind of perv?”
“I’m not a pervert!” he exclaimed, practically falling out in desperation to defend himself. “I swear it wasn’t me—it was the algorithm!”
“Yeah the algorithm,” You mutter as you glare at him.
Desperate to change the subject Miles suddenly blurts out, “So! Anyway about the love triangle!”
“Love triangle?” Your glare softened slightly, replaced by confusion. “What love triangle?”
“You know,” he said, brightening. “The big Jujutsu Kaisen love triangle!”
You tilted your head, still not understanding. “You mean...between Gojo, Geto, and Shoko?”
Miles paused, looking at you like you’d just sprouted another head. “What? No, I’m not talking about—”
“I knew it!” you interrupted, your entire demeanor shifting in an instant. Your eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement as you leaned forward. “Me and Nobara totally have theories about them! Like, okay, listen—”
“Wait hold on—” Miles tries to cut in, “That’s not—”
“We’ve been piecing it together forever right?” you said, your excitement spilling over as you launched into full gossip mode. “The way Gojo and Geto used to look at each other? Please, there’s no way that was just friendship. And Shoko totally knows—she’s in on whatever they had going on. Like c'mon it's sooo obvious.”
Miles opened his mouth to object again but you weren’t done.
“Seriously,” your tone grew more animated. “There’s no way it was just a friendship. I mean, Nobara and I have been compiling clues for months. And then there was this one time Shoko made this offhand comment about how they used to share—”
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Miles finally interrupted, holding up his hands to stop your tirade. “First of all there is no Shoko in their relationship.”
You paused, blinking. “Wait...really?”
“Of course,” Miles said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Everyone knows Geto and Gojo are the OTP of the century—GGs for life. Nobody can come between that.”
“Oh...” Your shoulders slumped slightly, a pout forming on your lips. “So...you weren’t talking about them?”
“Nope,” He pops the p. “I was talking about the real love triangle.”
You frowned. “What real love triangle?”
Leaning casually against his desk, honey-colored eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know—the one between you, Itadori, and Megumi.”
The words hit you like a slap to the face. “Huh?”
“Yeah,” Miles continues nonchalantly. “It’s a huge deal in the fandom. Like one of the biggest debates in the entire series.”
Your jaw drops. “Wait hold on! What?! No no no! They’re my best friends! That’s it!”
Miles shrugged, clearly amused by your reaction. “Hey that’s how it starts. You spend all your time together, fighting side by side, sharing moments—all that good stuff. People can’t help but see the tension.”
“What tension?!” you demanded, your voice rising slightly.
“Exactly!” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what makes it so great. It’s subtle! It’s all in the looks and little moments. You don’t even realize it’s happening, but the fans? Oh they see it. The angst, the chemistry, the possibilities.”
You backed away, shaking your head as your mind spiraled into chaos. “When would there even be time for tension? Between fighting curses and almost dying, there’s no room for—” You cut yourself off with a groan.
Miles, utterly unbothered, grinned wider. “I mean you’ve got to admit you three are pretty iconic. A girl stuck between two dudes who are both crazy loyal to her? People eat that stuff up. Ultimate poly ship.”
Your jaw dropped. “Poly—what?! We're friends! That’s all! No one’s stuck between anyone!”
Miles raises an eyebrow like he didn’t believe you for a second. “You can be friends and still have romantic tension. That’s like half of anime.”
You pressed your hands to your temples. “Love? No. No way. It’s not like that. It’s never been like that!”
Miles just leaned against his desk as he continue to watch your internal meltdown. “Man I wish I could take a picture of this reaction. You’re so in denial. The fandom would eat this up.”
You glared at him, pointing your staff in his direction. “Say one more thing and I’ll destroy your stupid laptop.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay okay. But seriously though...you’ve got a lot of fans rooting for you. It’s kind of cool don’t you think?”
You groaned at his words. “I can’t believe this.”
Slumping into the desk chair, your head bury into your hands. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Miles smirked. “Worse than being sucked into another dimension?”
You stood shoulder to shoulder with Itadori and Megumi, sweat dripping down your brow as the oppressive weight of the curse's power filled the air.
Every movement felt heavy, almost like trudging through molasses. But you couldn't falter. Not now.
“Okay I’m calling it—there’s no way this thing is a Grade 2.” Itadori panted as he adjusted his grip on his brass knuckles. His jacket was torn at the shoulder, faint traces of blood smeared his cheek. “Absolutely no way!”
You couldn’t help but laugh even as you deflected a sharp burst of cursed energy with your extendable staff, the metal shimmering with your own reinforced aura.
“What’s the count now? Third time this month the higher-ups tried to get you killed?” you quipped, sidestepping as another portal crackled to life behind you.
“Ha! Right? I—HEY!” Itadori ducked just in time, a slicing tendril of energy missing him by inches.
The curse let out a sharp petulant scream. Its voice was high and nasally, yet dripping with malice. It hovered just above the ground, a tall lanky figure with exaggerated limbs and unnervingly delicate features.
Despite its monstrous presence, he carried itself with a dramatic flair, hands fluttering as it sneered. “You’re not even paying attention to me! Me! The great Masato! Do you even know what my name mean?! Rude brats!”
You exchanged a look with Megumi who was braced a few feet to your right. “You’d think something this dramatic would be better at multitasking,” you quip.
Megumi snorted. “Not helping,” he muttered, but there was a faint smirk pulling at his lips.
The curse lashed out again.
“You dare laugh while I stand before you?” Masato hissed, his voice like nails scratching glass, the six glowing eyes scattered across its face narrowing with a snarl. “How dare you!”
He raised a delicate hand causing a portal to swirl into existence beside it. Before any of you could react, another portal suddenly shimmered behind you, and the spirit lunged through with a screech.
“Move!” Megumi shouted.
All three of you dived in different directions as the spirit’s clawed hand smashed into the ground sending debris flying.
You rolled, coming to your feet with your expandable cursed staff snapping into place in your hands. A grin tugged at your lips. “Feisty isn’t he?”
“I’m not feisty!” Masato shrieked as it rose from the rubble. He dusted himself off with theatrical flair, movements unnervingly fluid.
“I am magnificent! And yet here you are, treating me like I’m some… some background extra!” His glowing eyes narrowed. “You’ll regret that.”
Flicking his wrist, three portals bloomed into existence, circling the trio like a predator hunting its prey.
“Stay sharp,” Megumi warned as he summoned his divine dogs to his side. His voice was calm but there was a tension in his posture you recognized all too well.
“Sharp...right,” Itadori muttered. “Because the last thing I wanna do is die.”
Your laughter rang out again, light and carefree despite the chaos. “Oh come on Itadori. At least when you do, your gravestone will say ‘Killed by a Dollar Store monster with a superiority complex.’ That’s iconic.”
"Not funny!" Itadori shot back, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching.
Masato's porcelain face cracked slightly as it snarled. "You're still ignoring me?! You—!"
He moved fast, too fast.
Portals opened and closed around you, claws swiping and missing by inches as the three of you dodged and counterattacked.
Somewhere in the fray you caught Megumi's arm just as a portal opened behind him, yanking him out of harm's way.
"You okay?" you asked, breathless.
Megumi nodded, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "You saved me."
"Of course I did," you replied easily, though there was a flicker of something warm in your chest at his expression. "It's what friends do."
"Childhood friends," Megumi corrected softly. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long before blinking back to the fight. "Alight. Let's get this over with..."
The battle continued, the curse's movements growing wilder as its frustration mounted.
You noticed it then—the way his attacks grew sloppy whenever angered. The portals became less precise, the strikes easier to predict. A smirk curved your lips.
"This is soooo getting boring," you declared loudly, sidestepping another clawed swipe. "I could've been shopping with Nobara right now. Dammit...she said there was a sale on cute sweaters at ZARA too."
"What?!" Itadori gaped at you mid-dodge. "Are you serious right now? How can you say that when we're literally fighting for our—"
He paused as he caught the pointed look you gave him.
"Ohhh," Itadori said His grin turned mischievous. "Yeah, totally boring. This curse? Weak. Not worth the effort."
Masato froze, his six eyes twitching. “Weak?!”
You added fuel to the fire, pretending to inspect your nails. “He’s got a point. I mean I could’ve been eating taiyaki right now, but instead, I’m stuck here fighting a total amateur.”
Masato's face twisted with fury as glowing cracks began to form along his too-perfect skin. “Amateur?! AMATEUR?! You insolent little—”
“Hey!” Megumi’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. He darted closer, his divine dogs prowling at his sides. “What are you two idiots doing? This isn’t a joke—you’re going to get yourselves killed!”
“Don’t be such a killjoy,” you shot back, grinning as you parried a portal-assisted swipe with your staff. “This is working. Watch.”
Megumi opened his mouth to argue but then his gaze flicked toward Masato. His scowl faltered. Took him a moment to notice—how the curse’s movements were becoming erratic, how its attacks were losing their edge.
Every insult from you and Itadori seemed to make it angrier, more reckless.
Megumi’s brows furrowed as realization dawned. “You’re…” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as he stepped back, giving a reluctant nod. “Fine. Do whatever it takes to finish this. Just…don’t overdo it.”
“Oh no promises,” you replied cheerfully, smirking as Masato let out another frustrated shriek. “Hey lil miss Diva! Do those cracks come with a warranty or are we voiding it by hurting your feelings?”
The curse swung wildly as his portal attacks fizzled out of sync.
“That's it!” Itadori chimed in, clapping his hands mockingly. “Keep trying! You’ll land a hit someday champ!”
It screamed in rage, lunging toward Itadori in a blind frenzy. That was the moment you’d been waiting for.
You skidded to a halt, feet digging into the ground as you raised your hand, activating your technique. “Chrono Lock!”
Time seemed to shudder and pause.
The curse froze mid-motion, his grotesque form momentarily trapped in place. You carefully released Itadori and Megumi from the effect leaving the rest of the world still.
“You’ve got about twenty seconds,” you called, your voice strained from the effort. “Make it count!”
Itadori and Megumi didn’t waste a second.
Itadori landed a powerful blow to Masato's side, forcing him to stumble while Megumi’s shikigami tore through its legs, leaving him vulnerable.
With a burst of energy you leapt forward. Bringing your staff down with all the force you could muster, cursed energy surging through your weapon.
Striking the curse squarely in the chest, the impact cracked through the air like thunder.
“AHHH!” Masato screamed, his body convulsing as cracks spread like spiderwebs across its form. “You...insignificant...pests!” it spat, its voice beginning to warp.
But the victory was short-lived. Even as its form disintegrated the curse let out a venomous laugh.
“You!” He pointed a trembling claw at you, six glowing eyes narrowing. “Not only do you have the attention of not one but two cute boys…” He let out another bitter laugh, the sound echoing unnaturally. “But you also have the audacity to kill me? Oh the injustice!”
You opened your mouth to retort—something witty no doubt—but the words caught in your throat as a portal shimmered to life beneath your feet.
“Wait—what the hell?!” you shouted, panic flaring as the ground disappeared.
“Let’s see how you'll fare without your precious little fans!”
“____!” Itadori’s voice was raw with emotion as he lunged toward you. Megumi was right beside him, his usually composed expression etched with uncharacteristic fear.
“Bon voyage~” Masato sneered, its voice fading into nothingness as the last of his body finally dissipated.
The portal pulled at you like a riptide causing the world around you blur into a mess of light and shadows.
Your breath hitched, arms flailing instinctively toward the only solid things in your view—Yuji and Megumi.
For a fleeting moment you saw them: Yuji’s hand reaching, his eyes wide with desperation; Megumi pale and grim with a jaw so clenched it looked like it might crack.
Then the portal swallowed you whole and all you saw was darkness.
The night was cold and quiet—save for the faint hum of distant traffic and the occasional chirp of a lone cricket.
Midnight had fallen over Brooklyn casting the deserted park in an eerie glow. The moon peeked through scattered clouds, its silvery light illuminating the remnants of a chaotic skirmish.
A figure in a red-and-black Spider-Man suit vaulted over a bench, shooting webs at a villain who was far too focused on trying to escape to notice the teenager’s playful quips.
“C’mon man, I thought you’d put up more of a fight,” He chided, swinging gracefully through the air. “You’re really gonna make me miss my physics homework for this?”
The villain growled, shooting a round of bullets that missed wildly.
And then, out of nowhere, the night shattered.
A swirling portal erupted above the fight. The Spider hero paused mid-swing, his mask-covered face tilting upward.
His senses screamed as something—or someone—shot out of the portal like a comet.
The unknown figure slammed directly onto the villain, pinning him to the ground with an audible thud. The man let out a weak grunt before collapsing beneath the impact.
For a moment there was silence.
The masked vigilante lands lightly on a nearby lamppost, crouching low with narrowed eyes as he waited.
Your heart pounded in your ears.
The last memory burned in your mind: the cursed spirit’s mocking laughter, the desperate reach of Itadori and Megumi’s hands, and then…nothing.
You had been ripped away from your friends, and now—
A groan broke you out of your daze. As your vision cleared you realized you were sprawled on top of a man dressed in a typical burglar-esque outfit.
He released one more pained sound before slumping unconscious, leaving you blinking in stunned confusion.
“Wait—what the?” you muttered to yourself. You staggered to your feet, gripping your staff tightly as you scanned your surroundings.
It was midnight, maybe early morning? And you were what seemed to be a park, empty except for flickering streetlights and the faint hum of a distant city.
Where were you?
Before you could fully regain your bearings—
“____?”
Your head snapped upwards. You squinted at the figure perched on the lamppost, his voice unfamiliar but oddly casual.
You instinctively take a defensive stance. “How do you know my name?” you demand.
He froze for a split second before recovering, large white eyes on his mask widened as he leaned forward, his excitement bubbling to the surface.
“Oh my God. It’s really you!” his voice became high-pitched, the awe in his tone unmistakable.
Before either of you could say another word a rough voice cuts through the air.
“Benny!”
The sound made you whirl around, staff raised. From the shadows emerged a second villian, stockier than the first with a scar running across his face.
His eyes darted to the unconscious man at your feet—Benny apparently—before narrowing at you. His lips curled into a sneer. “You little—”
You saw the gun before he raised it, the glint of metal catching in the moonlight. Your instincts kicked in and you dropped into a defensive stance. But before you could move—
Thwip!
A strand of webbing shot out, wrapping around the gun and yanking it from his grasp. The weapon flew into the air before sticking harmlessly to a nearby tree.
The villain cursed under his breath, turning his gaze toward culprit in the red-and-black suit.
You didn’t waste the distraction.
Pushing off the ground with a burst of speed, you lunged forward, your staff arcing through the air in a deadly swing.
The villain turned just in time for the blunt end of your weapon strike his temple with a sickening crack. His eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the dirt.
You straightened, your staff still raised as you scanned the area for more threats. But the park was silent once more.
“Well,” the masked figure said as he jumps and lands gracefully on the ground in front of you. “That was awesome.”
Your gaze snapped to him, your irritation flaring as your confusion deepened.
'Who is this guy?' you wondered, taking in his strange appearance.
His red-and-black suit clung to him like a second skin and those wide white eyes on his mask stared back at you, giving him an almost cartoonish quality.
He wasn’t a curse—there was no cursed energy radiating from him—but his abilities…they weren’t normal either. They weren’t human.
Your fingers flexed around your staff as you turned to face him fully. “I don’t know what you are,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in your head, “but I don’t have time to figure it out right now. So let’s make this quick.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa whoa! Hold up! I’m on your side—”
You didn’t wait for him to finish. Lunging forward, you swung your staff in a precise arc aiming for his midsection.
“Seriously?!” He yelps as he twists his body and flip backward to dodge the strike. “You’re gonna fight me?! But I’m one of the good guys!”
Your only response was another swing, this one aimed higher.
He ducks, flipping into the air once more only to land upside down on a tree branch.
“Okay but really, you’re gonna want to hear me out!” he called, swinging there like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m the Amazing Spider-Man! Well...the second one. It’s kinda of a long story.”
You didn’t care. His words didn’t make sense and you weren’t about to let him distract you.
Another lunge, another strike.
“Whoa!” he exclaims, flipping off the branch and landing a few feet away. “Alright tough crowd. Got it.” He raised his hands defensively, his voice still light.
“But look—seriously—we’re basically the same! You’re in high school, I’m in high school. Granted yours basically focuses on fighting monsters and dying...but hey—capitalism’s basically the same thing right?”
You blinked at him, thrown for just a moment by his words. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
He tilted his head. “Okay, rude.”
Another swing shuts him up, forcing him to jump backward.
“Fine! You’re clearly in a fight-now-ask-questions-later mood,” he said, a grin audible in his voice. “But just know I’m just a chill guy alright? So chill I’ll even tell you my name—it’s Miles! Miles Morales!”
“Well Miles,” you said through gritted teeth, your staff swinging in an arc that narrowly missed his side, “I’m kind of busy right now, so save it.”
You pressed forward with even sharper strikes.
Swing after swing, he dodged with an almost infuriating ease, using his webs to move out of your reach.
“Oh my God,” Miles babbled as he flipped over your head. “I can’t believe I’m actually fighting The ____! You’re even better in real life! That spin just now—was that the Spiral Counter? It was, wasn’t it?!”
“What are you talking about?!” you snapped, jabbing your staff at him.
“You know—one of your signature moves!” He mimicked your earlier motion, pretending to twirl an imaginary staff. “Man I practiced that for weeks! Totally worth it by the way.”
Your eye twitched. Was he…fanboying?
“You’re insane,” you muttered.
Every time you thought you had him, he flipped or twisted out of your range, leaving you more irritated by the second.
“Man this is so cool,” Miles said as he jumped onto a nearby bench in a relaxed position. “Oh wait—wait! Can you do the Chrono Lock thing?!”
You froze mid-attack, your staff pausing in the air. “How do you know about that?”
Instead of answering he crouched low and made an exaggerated version of the hand gesture you use to activate the technique. “Like this right?”
You could feel your eye twitch as he twisted into an over-the-top version of your stance, his posture so painfully wrong it felt like an insult to your training.
“What—stop that!” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.
He laughed, shooting out a web to swing away as you tried—and failed—to land another hit. “Like seriously, you’re like my favorite out the whole series! I even made a replica of your staff once—oh wait! Is that the one Maki Zen’in gave you?!”
Your breath hitched and your movements slightly slowed. “How do you know about Maki?”
He didn’t answer, but his excitement didn’t falter. If anything he looked even more excited. “This is insane. The craftsmanship is way cooler in person.”
Miles darted forward suddenly, dodging another swing of your staff to tug lightly at a pin on your uniform jacket. “Not to mention this—this is the one Nanami gave you right? Wasn't this from Haibara's collection? It's sweet he says you resemble him and all...”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“And of course I can't forget the one and only!” he continued, pointing at the strip of white cloth hanging loosely around your neck. “That’s Gojo’s old blindfold isn’t it? You wore it when you—”
“Enough!” you snapped, your voice ringing out. Your frustration boiled over as you activated your staff’s hidden blade, the sharp edge glinting in the moonlight.
Miles paused for a split second, his masked eyes widening. “Oh...well that’s new,” he said, impressed.
You didn’t give him the chance to react further. You surged forward, your speed catching him off guard.
A quick sweep of your leg knocked him off balance, and before he could recover, you had him pinned to the ground. Your foot pressed against his chest and the blade of your staff hovered dangerously over his jugular.
“Who sent you?” you demanded, your voice low and deadly. “Was it Mahito? Getou? Answer me.”
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Miles said quickly, his hands shooting up in surrender. “I swear I’m innocent! Nobody sent me!”
You didn’t budge, your glare unwavering.
“Okay okay!” he said, his voice faster now. “Just—just let me explain!” He hesitated, then reached for the bottom of his mask and pulled.
You blinked, startled by the face staring back at you.
Warm brown skin, wide honey-colored eyes, and an expression caught somewhere between nervousness and awe.
He looked normal...
Human....
And undeniably cute.
You quickly shook off the thought, tightening your grip on the staff. “Who are you?” you repeat. “And how do you know everything about me?”
Miles swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between you and the blade near his throat. “It’s gonna sound crazy but…you’re an anime character.”
You stared at him, dumbfounded. “…What?”
He frantically nods (as best he can with a knife to his throat). “Well...technically a manga character first. In my world, you’re uh…kind of famous?”
It's amazing how quiet the streets become at night.
Stillness settled over the city, only broken by the rhythm of your hurried footsteps against the pavement.
Your breaths came fast and shallow, your heart pounding as Sugisawa Municipal High School came into view.
You'd never been one to stay late at school unless it was for the Bakery Club.
Hours in the club kitchen always left you with a sense of accomplishment, the lingering sweetness of flour and fruit filling the air as you carefully packed up the day's treats.
Today's creation had been homemade strawberry and peach dango. You'd spent extra time perfecting the texture and presentation.
Yuji would have loved them. But by the time you finished the Occult Club had already left and he'd headed to the hospital to visit his grandfather.
A soft sigh escaped your lips as you walked home, the sweet dangos carefully tucked in your backpack.
You'd planned to visit Wasuke soon and figured you could bring the treats then. The thought of the grumpy old man's rare smile made your heart lighter, even as the night stretched on.
Everything felt so normal.
Until you reached your doorstep.
Your phone buzzed as you fished out your keys, the screen lighting up with a voice message from Yuji.
Brows furrowed you clicked play.
"___!" Yuji's strained voice rang out loud and breathless.
Your heart lurched, the urgency in his tone immediately setting you on edge.
"Hey! Who are you talking to?!" another voice heaved faintly in the background. There was the sound of wind whipping and hurried footsteps.
Was he running?
"Something bad is going to happen to Sasaki and Iguchi-senpai at the school!" Yuji's continued in panic.
Your heart dropped.
"Wha—why would you tell her where the danger is if you didn't want her to come?!" the other voice snapped.
There was silence for a moment, only the sound of running.
"Oh..." you heard Yuji's sheepish voice.. "Never mind ___! Everything is fine at the school! In fact—"
"Just give me that!"
"Hey!" There were sounds of a struggle before the message cut off.
You were too stunned to speak.
Sasaki and Iguchi? Danger? And who was that with Yuji? None of it made sense, but the panic swelling in your chest drowned out any attempts at rational thought.
Backpack dropped to the ground, you made a full 180 on your heel and started running back toward the school.
'Just let me make it in time.'
*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*
By the time you reached the school gates, your legs burned, and your chest felt tight.
An oppressive weight seemed to settle over the air. A shiver ran down your spine as your instincts urged you to turn back.
But you didn't stop.
It pressed suffocatingly against your chest, making it harder to breathe as you climbed the railing.
Your landing was less than graceful—a stumble bringing you to your knees before you scrambled back up.
The closer you got to the school building the heavier the atmosphere became. It felt like something was clawing at your skin, whispering threats you couldn't hear but felt deep in your bones.
You pushed forward.
"Yuji! Sasaki! Iguchi!" you shouted, your voice echoing in the empty corridors as you ran. There was no answer.
The sound of crashing and a guttural roar from above drew your attention upward to the fourth floor.
Heart pounding, you sprinted toward the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Relief filled your chest when you spotted him.
"Yuji!"
His head whipped around at the sound of your voice. A flurry of emotions flashed over his face—relief, happiness, worry.
He was crouched protectively over Sasaki and Iguchi who both lay bruised and unconscious, but otherwise okay.
"___!" Yuji called out as you ran over, his voice filled with both relief and worry.
"What's going on?! What happened to them?" you demanded. Your hands hovered over the two, scanning their faces, unsure of what to do.
"They're okay," Yuji quickly tries to reassure you before another roar cut through the air. Your gaze snapped to the source.
A massive hole in the wall led to the rooftop; and under the pale moonlight stood a hideous beast.
Your eyes widened as you took the sight in: Its warped form shuddered with each step as it lunged toward raven-haired boy about your age.
He was fighting desperately but it was clear he was outmatched.
"What...what is that thing?" you whispered, barely able to believe what you were seeing.
Yuji's expression hardened as he gently lowered Sasaki and Iguchi against the wall.
He glances back to you. "Take care of them while I go save Megumi," he said firmly.
"Yuji wait—"
But he didn't wait. He turned and bolted toward the creature, his figure disappearing into the action.
"YUJI!" you yelled after him.
The fight unfolded before your eyes; each movement sharper and faster than you could follow.
Yuji dodged the monster's attacks with remarkable agility, but the creature's sheer size and strength made it a daunting opponent.
Your hands clenched into fists—torn between staying with the unconscious upperclassmen or chasing after Yuji.
After ensuring Sasaki and Iguchi were safe, you turned your attention to the black-haired teen.
You approached him hesitantly with hands twitching nervously at your sides.
Leaning heavily against the rooftop railing, his face was pale whiled blood streaked his temple.
He blinked at you, a little off-put by your sudden presence. His sharp gaze briefly softened before he quickly looked away, a faint flush coloring his cheeks.
"Who...who are you?" he asked, his tone clipped but not unkind as he regained his composure.
"Uh...I'm ___," you said shyly. "Yuji said your name was Megumi right?"
Before he could reply, Yuji's loud cheerful voice cut through the air as he dodged one of the monster's claws. "Megumi, this is ___! ___, this is Megumi! Nice to meet you both!"
"Are you serious right now?!" Megumi snapped at Yuji, his face turning a deeper red for a split second before his irritation took over.
Yuji grinned as he still avoiding being swiped like his life depended on it. "Come on, you can't fight a curse without knowing everyone's names!"
Megumi groaned, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. He turned his glare back to you. "Why are you even here? You need to leave—now!"
You frowned and quickly moved to his side as he fell back against the floor.
He stubbornly tries to push your hands away despite his exhaustion. "I don't need your help," he snapped.
"Stop that," you sternly say, carefully sliding an arm under his to prop him up against the railing. Megumi hissed under his breath as he reluctantly allows it this time.
From across the roof Yuji yells, "Hey Megumi! You're in trouble yourself!"
"And so are you!" Megumi shot back hoarsely. "The only chance you have is to take your friend and those two and run!"
Of course Yuji ignored him. He ducked under the curse's attack, his face set in determination. "Is that your idea of a pep talk?! At this rate all five of us are gonna die!"
"You cannot beat this thing!" Megumi stressed, his tone sharp as he glared at Yuji. "Only a curse can defeat a curse!"
Yuji, still dodging with remarkable agility, didn't relent. "If I quit now I'd be having this nightmare for weeks!" He barely avoided being grabbed, stumbling slightly before catching himself. "Besides..."
He glanced at you for the briefest moment, and something hard, something certain flashed across his face.
"I know what I have to do!"
Before either you or Megumi could react, Yuji lunged toward the curse, pulling something small and shriveled from his pocket.
"Yuji! What are you—?!" your voice trailed off in horror as he held the thing into his teeth.
Megumi's eyes widened in pure panic. "Don't do it! That's Sukuna's finger! You'll die!"
Your face twisted in disgust. "Wait...did you just say that's a finger in his mouth? Eugh..."
No one paid your comment any mind, least of all Yuji who pushed back against the curse with everything he had.
The curse snapped its massive jaws shut around the First year in attempt to devour him. But Yuji braced himself against the curse's teeth, refusing to let it happen.
"You idiot! Throw the finger down to me! Or you'll get eaten!" Megumi yelled.
The finger dangled grotesquely from Yuji's mouth as the creature tried to force him down its throat.
Yuji's voice rang out through gritted teeth. "There's a way to save everyone! I just need to have my own cursed energy don't I?"
"No! Don't do it!" Megumi eyes suddenly went wide panic as he struggled to push himself up. "Ryomen Sukuna's finger is a strong cursed object. You'll die!"
You froze where you were, the weight of Megumi's words making your heart drop into your stomach. 'Die?'
But Yuji didn't listen.
He threw the finger up and swallowed it whole.
"NO!" Megumi's voice cracked.
For a single, heart-stopping moment, everything fell still.
Then it happened.
A surge of cursed energy exploded from Yuji sending shockwaves all around.
Air rippled violently as debris flew in all directions, the weight of the blast nearly forcing you to your knees.
You shield your face as fragments of wall shot past you.
The creature screeched as its massive hands disintegrated under the force of Yuji's—transformation, his form now altered.
Strange black tattoos began spreading across his skin, curling up his arms, neck, and face. His light brown eyes, so familiar and warm, were gone—replaced by a blood-red glow.
To your horror a smaller set of eyes opened just beneath his main pair, the sinister crimson gleam sending chills down your spine.
A roar leaves the curse, angry at its amputation before mobbing toward the pinkette for an attack.
Yuji smashes the curse with barely a flick of his wrist causing pieces of the building to be destroyed along with it.
"Look out!"
You glance up in time to see a giant piece of concrete flying toward you. Rolling away with a yelp, the roof shakes as the spot you had been siting moments ago is crushed.
As the dust began to settle, you and Megumi could only watch as the figure stood amongst the crumbling ruins.
Yuji's expression had twisted into something unrecognizable, a wicked grin curling across his face as a low gravelly laugh echoes through the air.
He straightened to his full height; his movements deliberate and unnervingly smooth as though testing his body for the first time.
"I knew it," the voice that came from Yuji's mouth wasn't his at all. It was deeper, more malicious—every syllable dripping with cruel delight. "The light feels best in the flesh."
Without hesitation the figure grabbed onto Yuji's yellow hoodie and ripped it apart with a violent tear. The sound echoed in the air as shredded fabric fell around him.
"Cursed flesh is so boring. But this? So...much better," he purred, flexing his fingers.
His gaze landed on Megumi with a hum of amusement. The teen gritted his teeth as he tried and failed to stand, his glare unwavering despite the obvious strain.
The attention didn't stay on the First Year for long. His eyes shifted—to you.
Time seemed to stop.
You froze under the weight of his stare, every muscle in your body stiffening.
Something flashed within his expression: recognition. Interest. A flicker of cruel delight.
"Well well..." Yuji—no Sukuna—moved closer, his stride slow and deliberate.
Despite the familiar face of the boy you had spent the last two years growing close to, the difference was unmistakable.
A wicked grin stretched across his lips as a heavy malice radiated from his very presence. It made your knees weak.
He tilted his head in mock curiosity, crimson gaze regarding you with a hungry knowing stare. "What a surprise we have here."
He was closer now—too close. You instinctively scramble away only for your back collide with the rubble behind you.
"Stay back!" Megumi growled, hoping to draw his attention.
The King of Curses didn't even glance his way. Instead he stepped over the crumbled infrastructure with predatory ease before stopping in front of you.
"So...this is where you have been hiding. And to think I believed all you Obedient Ones died out."
You blinked. "O-obedient...?"
Sukuna let out a dark chuckle. He crouches down until he was eye-level with you.
"Oh you don't know? How adorable." His black nails grazed your chin, tilting your face upward and forcing you to hold his gaze. "Well let me enlighten you then."
Your trembling didn't go unnoticed. He reveled in it, his gaze drinking in the fear that radiated off you.
"Your bloodline is quite the curiosity. A clan that bends to the will of curse users. The Obedient Ones, as I like to call them."
Your breath hitched as his grin widened.
"Do you know what that means little one?" he crooned, voice soft yet dripping with menace. "It means you're mine to command. Mine to break."
Before you could react his hand darts to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair.
You yelped as he forced your head back.
The vein in your exposed throat visibly pulsed—a rhythmic beat that made his smile sharpen.
He leaned in, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of your neck before inhaling deeply.
"You reek of fear," the heat of his breath brushed against your ear sending icy shivers down your spine. "How delicious."
"G-get off me" you stammered, voice shaking as you tried to resist.
"Don't worry," he said with a chilling calm, yanking you closer as though you weighed nothing. "I won't hurt you the way you think I will. There's a power inside you've been cursed with. A power I will claim."
The next words he whispered were foreign—a language you couldn't understand. Something ancient and unrecognizable, it seeped into your mind like poison.
Your body began to go slack in his grip, the fear melting away as a strange calm washed over you.
Megumi's heart pounded as he watched the scene unfold.
The wind began to shift unnaturally, pulsing around you and Sukuna as though it had a life of its own.
Your wide terrified eyes took on a faint reddish hue, the same color as Sukuna's cursed energy as your head tilted slightly to stare blankly at the starry night sky.
A faint outline appeared around your neck—a glowing choker with a chain-like leash. It shimmered with energy leading up to Sukuna's free hand.
Megumi's nails bit into his palms as he struggled to rise.
He didn't know what was going on. But what he did know was that if that chain solidified, something terrible would happen.
The red in your eyes deepened causing the cursed energy around you to intensify.
Sukuna's grin widened as choker grew brighter, the leash almost solidifying.
"So beautiful," his voice dripped with satisfaction. "Shall we seal the deal?"
Just as the cursed leash finally harden—
The entire rooftop seemed to shudder. A crackling hum like static pulsed in the silence as a new presence emerged.
And for the first time, Sukuna's grin faltered.
Satoru Gojo.
The wind whipped around him ruffling his pale white hair.
Cursed energy radiating off of him like a force of nature, he casually stood amidst the destruction as though he'd simply wandered onto the scene by accident.
"Now...this is quite the situation," Gojo said with an almost teasing tone as his head tilted to the side. "Can't leave you kids alone for five minutes huh?"
Sukuna's crimson eyes snapped toward the newcomer, his expression darkening into a growl. "Tch..."
His grip on you tightened instinctively, but the cursed chain flickered again, its glow dimming slightly in the wake of Gojo's arrival.
Before Sukuna could react, Gojo made his move. A controlled burst of cursed energy erupted from Gojo with a flick of his hand.
Slamming into Sukuna with enough force to send rubble scattering across the rooftop, the King of Curses grip was torn away causing you to slump forward.
The cursed choker instantly shattered into wisps of energy.
"Hey!" Megumi sprang forward, his exhaustion forgotten as he caught you just before you fell to the ground.
He pulled you protectively against his chest. Your body was limp, your breathing shallow—but you were alive.
The faintest traces of Sukuna's cursed energy still clung to you, a reddish hue glimmering faintly in your half-lidded eyes.
Megumi's relief was short-lived. His gaze darted back to the scene before him as recognition dawned. "Satoru Gojo? What are you doing here?"
Gojo grinned widely as though he'd just been waiting for someone to ask.
"Oh you know, just saving your life and all. Crazy thing about it I wasn't even planning on showing up tonight...that is until I got an earful from the higher-ups." He leaned toward Megumi, unfazed by the destruction around them. "Something about a special grade object still missing and dereliction of duty. Soooo dramatic right?"
Megumi's jaw tightened as he shifted your dazed figure with an deadpan expression. "This isn't the time for jokes."
Gojo dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
"Relax I'm multitasking. Besides you look hella roughed up. Man, did ya even try fighting?" He pulls his phone out his pocket with a flourish and shit-eating grin. "The Second years are gonna love this—Say cheese!"
Phone raised, the shutter clicked multiple times as Gojo snapped pictures of Megumi cradling you.
A look of horror flash across the younger's face as he groaned, twisting his head to avoid the camera.
"Will you stop that!" Megumi hissed through gritted teeth. "Now is not the time!"
Gojo chuckled as he swiped through the taken photos. "You kids are so high-strung these days. Now...did you find it yet?"
"Gojo huh? Still a pest even now..."
At the call of his name, the Limitless Curse user turned his attention back to Sukuna, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly, though his grin remained firmly in place.
"Is this amusing to you, Gojo Satoru?"
"Amusing? Definitely." He began to walk closer as the black tattoos on Yuji's skin began to fade. "So...you ate the thing?"
Sukuna blinked, visibly disoriented, his smugness wavering. "I...did?" he muttered, the arrogant edge faltering into confusion.
The light brown color in Yuji's eyes resurfaced, the marks fully gone as he release a groan. "Um...what just happened...?"
Gojo crouched down in front of Yuji, his grin widening as he peered at the teen. "Ha ha, damn. It really did combine with you. That's hilarious."
Almost like a switch Yuji bolts up. "____!" His voice cracks with urgency, his first instinct to find you. "Where's—where's ____?!"
Gojo held him back effortlessly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Easy there. Answer a few questions for me and I'll let you see her, yeah?"
"Okay, okay! What do you wanna know?"
"Anything weird about your body?
"Nah...seems okay?"
Gojo rocked back on his heels. "Perfect. Now can you swap out with Sukuna at will?"
Yuji hesitated. "Sukuna?"
"The curse you ate," Gojo clarified, his tone light as though discussing the weather.
Yuji paused then nodded faintly. "Oh? Um yeah I think I can do that."
Gojo's smile sharpened, his gaze flicking toward the barely-conscious Megumi and you, still slumped in his arms. "Good. Then let's test something."
Yuji blinked. "Huh?"
Gojo cracked his knuckles and stretched his legs lazily. "Give us about ten seconds with Sukuna and then switch back into yourself. Easy right?"
"But—"
"Don't worry. I'm way too strong for him," Gojo said nonchalantly, his confidence unwavering.
With that, he tosses a small bag toward Megumi, which the student caught reflexively.
"What is this?" Megumi asked.
"Kikufuku from Kikusuian," Gojo replied nonchalantly with a grin. "It's Sendai's specialty. Super good. I recommend the zunda and cream flavor."
Before he could finish Sukuna erupted with a roar, leaping high into the air with enough force to send cracks through the ground.
"Look out!" Megumi shouted. Smoke exploded through the space as Sukuna landed sending debris flying.
Gojo didn't flinch.
He dodged Sukuna's attack effortlessly, moving with a speed that made the King of Curses' strikes look sluggish.
The rooftop erupted into smoke and rubble as Sukuna roared in frustration, striking at Gojo again and again—only to miss every time.
In fact Gojo was sitting on top of him, completely unbothered as he continued his monologue.
"I think it's the whipped cream inside that really makes Kikufuku stand out, don't you think?"
"Stop MOCKING ME!" Sukuna bellowed, his fury palpable.
Gojo leaned back lazily as he dodged yet another strike. "Hey, since my student is watching and all I might as well show off a little. That's alright with you?" His tone dropped almost conspiratorially, smile never wavering.
The fight escalated into a whirlwind of movement, Gojo's hits precise and unrelenting while Sukuna grew more enraged.
Suddenly Gojo stopped, hands in his pockets as he stepped back and began to count.
"Seven...six...five..."
Sukuna's attack faltered as he blinked in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"Three....two...one."
Yuji's body crumpled to the ground, the tattoos vanishing as Sukuna was forced back into dormancy.
The silence was deafening.
Yuji stirred moments later, groaning as he blinked groggily. "Where's ___? Is...is she okay?!"
Gojo smiled before promptly knocking Yuji out with a sharp tap to the forehead. "Oops. My bad."
Megumi frowned, still holding onto you as Gojo turned his attention back to him. "What about her?"
Gojo approached your dazed form, kneeling beside you as his expression turned uncharacteristically serious.
Megumi shifted slightly causing your head to lolled against his arm, a look of wary in his gaze at whatever the older male was about to do.
"Don't worry Fushiguro. I'm not gonna hurt her," Gojo said smoothly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But I do need to make sure she's okay."
Megumi hesitated, his grip on you reluctant, but eventually he loosened his hold just enough for Gojo to reach you.
With a gentleness that seemed almost out of place for him, Gojo slid one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you from Megumi's hold before placing you carefully in his lap as though you were made of glass.
He slipped off his blindfold revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight.
Gojo softly held your face. His gaze boring into yours intensely, as if searching for something. "C'mon. Don't make me work too hard."
Megumi stiffened, his cheeks flushing faintly as he looked away, finding it all to be weirdly intimate.
But Gojo wasn't paying him any attention. His eyes narrowed slightly as he examined the faint red glow still clinging to your irises.
The cursed energy seemed to hum faintly in response to his gaze, as though recoiling under the weight of his power.
"Yeah... you're a stubborn one huh?" Gojo muttered quietly.
He began to speak words Megumi couldn't understand. The language was foreign, rolling off Gojo's tongue in a melodic cadence that seemed to vibrate through the air.
Wind picking up again, it swirled softly around the three of you, the faint hum of cursed energy growing louder before beginning to dissipate.
Megumi watched your eyelids flutter open as the red in your eyes finally extinguished like a flame.
The first thing you saw was Gojo's uncovered face—shockingly handsome, unfamiliar, and impossibly close.
"Hey sleepyhead," he said teasingly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Thought we almost lost you for a second there."
You could only stare at him as the pieces began to fall back into place.
Fragmented memories of Sukuna's voice, the suffocating pressure of cursed energy, and the faint sound of Megumi's shouts all slammed into you at once.
"I... wha—?"
Gojo's smile sharpened. "And enough of that." Before you could speak anymore, his fingers flicked against your temple making you pass out just as Yuji.
Standing, he hoists you into his arms effortlessly, bridal carrying you with practiced ease.
"Ready to go back Fushiguro?" Gojo asked cheerfully, adjusting you in his hold so you rested against his chest. "Oh and don't forget Itadori!"
Megumi shot him a glare but got to his feet. Exhaustion settled in his limbs as he glanced down at Yuji's unconscious form.
And as Gojo led the way, the faint wind still swirling around them, Megumi couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
You expected some awkwardness—it came with the territory of being the new kid, a foreigner no less.
You'd been through this routine before: a new country, a new school, new faces sizing you up like an oddity in a museum.
The perks of being a military brat, as your dad liked to put it, included traveling the world, experiencing cultures you might never have otherwise.
But the downside?
Never staying in one place long enough to belong. You were a perpetual outsider, always a step out of sync.
It had been a few days since your arrival at West Junior High School and the pattern hadn't changed.
Whispers followed your every move, the muffled laughter at lunch, the quick glances away whenever you tried to meet someone's gaze.
You told yourself it was fine. You'd survived this before.
But today as the lunchtime bell rang, the quiet isolation settled heavily on your shoulders.
You shuffled toward the vending machines in one of the main lone hallways. Lunchtime wasn't so bad if you kept to yourself.
At least there was a chance to enjoy your favorite drink—a sweet, fizzy soda that reminded you of home.
Peering into the machine's brightly lit display, you sighed with relief; one lone can remained.
Fishing through your skirt pockets, panic flickered when your fingers found only lint. Of course. You'd left your money on the dresser this morning.
Shoulders sagging, you were about to abandon the idea when a glint caught your eye. A dusty yen coin lay nearly hidden beneath the vending machine.
You dropped to your knees and snatched it up triumphantly. This little victory was enough to brighten your mood.
As the machine whirred, dispensing the can, someone shuffled up beside you. A groan of frustration made you glance sideways.
A girl, slightly shorter than you, was glaring at the adjacent vending machine.
Her mousy brown hair was tied in a loose ponytail, thick glasses slipping down her nose.
Freckles dotted her pale skin, giving her cheeks a reddish tint as she kicked halfheartedly at the machine.
Her uniform looked slightly disheveled and there's an air of exhaustion about her. "Of course they're out," she mutters under her breath.
You vaguely recognize her from passing in the hallways—a girl often ostracized by others, though her isolation seems harsher, marked by teasing and ridicule.
She caught sight of the drink in your hand and gives a dry laugh. "Lucky you. [Flavor] soda huh?"
Unsure how to respond, you gave a polite tight-lipped smile.
"Hey," she interrupted, voice tinged with sarcasm. "Give me that drink. I'm pretty sure my day's been worse than yours."
She meant it as a joke—her tone made that clear—but your body reacted differently.
A strange haze clouded your mind. 'She's thirsty...' a voice whispered in your head. 'You wouldn't let someone in need suffer would you?'
Before you could process what was happening, your arm moved almost against your will, extending the drink toward her.
"Uh...thanks?" she says, her brow furrowing in confusion.
You snap back to reality when she takes the soda out of your hand. You blink, disoriented.
The sound of the bell jolts you both out of the moment.
She blinks down at the can before offering you a small hesitant smile. "Thanks again! Maybe we'll see each other around? Oh, and my name's Akio by the way!"
With that, she hurries off, disappearing into the sea of students. You can only standing there, shoulders slumping in quiet defeat.
It happened again.
And here you thought this move would be different—that this time you'd have control over yourself. But no.
"Just great," you mutter bitterly, dragging yourself back to class.
The weeks that followed blurred into a strange humiliating pattern.
You found yourself spending more time with Akio. Unfortunately, your episodes as you'd started calling them, became more frequent in her presence.
At first her requests were lighthearted—grabbing a book she'd forgotten or sharing a snack when she was out.
You convinced yourself it was just an awkward friendship.
As for Akio, she seemed to think your actions were simply acts of kindness. But as the whispers of your classmates reached her ears, something shifted.
"She acts like a servant," they'd giggle behind their hands.
Akio noticed the attention and popularity she was gaining, all thanks to your constant presence at her side—a foreigner with striking looks at her very beck and call.
And when she realized you didn't follow anyone else's commands the way you did hers, it quickly went to her head.
She began issuing more blatant orders in front of others, her tone was playful but her intent was clear.
"Carry my bag," she'd say, smirking as you complied without complaint. "Try this orange lipstick—it'll suit you better." "Tie my shoes."
Your mind struggled to justify your actions. 'She's my friend.' 'It's no big deal.' 'She needs help...'
But deep down you knew it wasn't that simple. It never was.
The fog in your thoughts always followed her commands, a haze that left you dazed and compliant.
The fog wasn't new. It had followed you from place to place, city to city, triggered by the presence of certain strangers.
Akio was different. You couldn't escape her.
The vacant look in your eyes became a permanent fixture at this point; earning you a new nickname among your peers: the Dopey Foreigner.
The cafeteria was loud, filled with the hum of conversations and the occasional clatter of trays.
You were seated at a table near the corner, quietly eating your lunch and minding your own business.
That was until the crash of a tray and a sudden yelp cut through the chatter.
At first it was easy to ignore. Akio's voice, sharp and teasing, rang out across the room—but that was nothing new.
She loved being the center of attention, and most days, you tried not to think about what she was doing when you weren't around.
Then you saw it.
A quiet lanky boy stood frozen in the middle of the cafeteria, his uniform splattered with curry and rice. His glasses were askew and his hands hovered over the mess.
Akio stood in front of him, her smirk cutting like a blade, a vivid contrast to the boy's horrified expression.
"Oops," she said, her tone insincere as she reveled in the laughter that rippled through the crowd. "You should really watch where you're going."
The student murmured an apology, even though it wasn't his fault.
Your brows furrowed as a flicker of something close to anger stirred in your chest.
You didn't like confrontation, but this—this wasn't right. Before you could second-guess yourself, you were standing and walking toward them.
"Hey," your voice soft but steady as you placed yourself between Akio and the boy. "That wasn't nice. He didn't do anything to you."
Akio blinked. Her gaze swept over you, sharp and calculating, as if deciding how best to respond.
"Oh come on ____," she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It was just a joke. Right?" She glances over at the boy who stammered something unintelligible, his face pale.
"It didn't look like a joke," you replied, keeping your voice even. "I thought you were better than this."
The silence that followed was palpable.
Akio's smirk faltered, and she turned to fully face you, her expression shifting to one of annoyed disbelief.
Behind her students began whispering, their eyes darting between the two of you.
You could see the crack in her confidence under the weight of the attention. And for a moment, you thought she might back down.
But then her eyes narrowed.
"Oh really?" she sneered, her voice low and cutting. "You think you're so tough don't you?"
Her words were sharp, but the murmurs from the crowd were sharper. The power in her gaze flickered like a fragile flame threatening to go out.
And then, in the way that only Akio could, she reclaimed it.
"Well then. Since you're so eager to play the hero..." the corners of her mouth twitched into something cruel, her hands clapping together as if she'd thought of something brilliant.
She turned toward the boy as she points to the unopened milk carton on the floor. "Give her that."
He stares at her.
"Give it to her," her tone was insistent. "She looks thirsty. Don't you think so?"
The student paused, his eyes darting nervously between you and Akio.
"Now!"
Flinching, the boy retrieves the carton before reluctantly placing it in your hands.
You stared at it confused, the cool surface of the carton damp against your fingers.
Your stomach knotted as you glanced back at Akio who stood watching you with a gleam in her eye.
"Go on," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "Pour it over yourself."
For a moment the world seemed to tilt. "...W-what?" disbelief colored your voice.
"Do it," Akio repeated, louder this time, the command laced with cruel amusement. "Pour it over your head."
Your hand shook around the carton as you looked between her and the milk; mind reeling, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Why would she ask you to do this? That didn't make sense.
"I...but—I don't understand," you stammer, your voice so quiet it barely carries over the chatter of the crowd.
The protest is clear in your posture—the way your shoulders hunch inward as if trying to make yourself smaller, the way your grip on the carton tightens until your knuckles hurts.
"Do it!" she barks and the cafeteria falls into a tense silence. "Pour the milk over your head! That's all you're good for you dumb little puppet!"
Then something changes.
The confusion settled into something softer, your thoughts warping as the curse within you twisted the command into something reasonable.
'She isn't trying to humiliate you.' a quiet, insidious voice echoes within your mind 'she's just trying to help you...Milk is good for your hair after all. A perfect hair mask!'
Your lips curve into a dazed smile as you open the carton and hold it above your head. "Thanks!" you chirp, the words barely your own.
And you tilt the carton.
|
|
"Hey Itadori! Stop spacing out!"
Yuji blinked, his chopsticks hovering mid-air as his classmate nudged him with an elbow.
He looked up from his half-eaten bento confused by the sudden commotion in the classroom.
"What's going on?" he asked, setting his lunch aside.
A boy poked his head into the room panting as if he'd sprinted from the other side of the school. "Akio and the Dopey Foreigner girl—something's happening in the cafeteria! Everyone's going to watch!"
That was all it took for most of the students to abandon their lunches and head for the door, curiosity fueling their rush.
Yuji sat there, bewildered, until one of his classmates shot him a knowing look.
"You really don't know about them?" they asked with a laugh. "Man you need to stop thinking about sports all the time. Those two are infamous."
"Who?" Yuji frowned, standing to follow the others.
"Akio—the nerdy girl with the glasses—and the foreign transfer student. Akio makes her do all kinds of weird stuff. Like, really weird. And she never says no."
"Never?" Yuji's brow furrowed. "That's not cool. Why does she even let her treat her like that?"
"No one knows," another classmate chimed in as they walked. "But it's pretty entertaining. Like Akio's a total nobody nerd—nothing special! Yet she's got this foreign exchange student wrapped around her finger like her own personal servant. It's weird though—the foreigner looks like she could be popular, but instead..." They trailed off with a shrug.
"She's probably just too polite to say no," Yuji reasoned, though the uneasy knot forming in his chest said otherwise.
"Nah it's more than that," the first classmate countered. "She doesn't listen to anyone else the same way. Only Akio. It's almost like she can't help it."
Yuji didn't reply, his stomach twisting as the cafeteria came into view.
The gasps reached him before he could even make sense of what was happening.
His eyes scanned the room, finding students clustered in a loose circle, voices overlapping.
He could just make out what seems to be Akio at the center of the crowd, her smug grin unmistakable.
Her mousy brown hair is frizzed slightly from the humidity, but it doesn't dull the sharpness of her grin as she stares down the person in front of her.
You.
You were there, milk streaming down on your head, soaking into your hair and dripping onto your uniform.
Laughter erupted around. Phones snapping pictures and recording videos as you stand there.
For a moment Itadori could only stare. You were...cute. Like, really cute. That much he knew immediately.
Your soft features, the way your expression seemed so kind and sweet. That sweetness only made what was happening harder to watch.
The laughter felt like nails on a chalkboard as he watched what you were doing.
Why were you smiling? Why weren't you stopping?
Finishing the carton, you hand it back to the boy who had reluctantly given it to you under Akio's orders.
"I—I don't think you need to—" the boy stammered nervously, his face is a mixture of confusion and guilt. "Y-you don't have to do this—really! Thanks for helping but—"
You didn't seem to hear him. Your hands hung limply at your sides, still smiling dopily—like you didn't even realize how humiliating the situation was.
Yuji's stomach twisted as the milk began to seep through your shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin and become sheer.
He could faintly see the outline of your bra and his face burned, not with embarrassment, but anger.
"Move," he muttered, shouldering past the nearest student.
"Hey! Watch it Itadori!" someone grumbles as he accidentally elbows them aside. He doesn't stop to apologize.
The crowd barely noticed him as he made his way toward the center, his irritation mounting with every step.
"Perfect!" Akio crooned, handing you another carton from nearby. "Let's do one more! Gotta be thorough."
Without hesitation you take the carton and open it—though your brows furrowed slightly as if some part of you was resisting.
As you tilted the new carton, Yuji finally broke through the last ring of onlookers. "Stop!" he yells louder than intended.
To everyone's shock you listen.
The carton hovers mid-pour, its opening tilted just enough for a few drops to dribble out.
Slowly, your head lifted, your dazed expression giving way to something wide-eyed and confused.
The milk carton slips from your fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud as milk pools around your feet.
Your gaze flicker down to your shaking hands as if they didn't belong to you. It was as though the spell had been broken, leaving you stranded in the aftermath of your own actions.
Akio's smirk faltered. "What the hell—"
"Enough!" a sharp voice cuts through the tension. The teachers had arrived.
The cafeteria erupted into groans they pushed through the crowd, confiscating phones while shooing students away.
Several teachers surrounded Akio, pulling her aside, ignoring her protests as was escorted out.
You look through your tears to see a teacher approaching you, her stern expression softening when she sees your trembling form.
She said something you didn't register before placing a hand gently on your back, guiding you out of the cafeteria.
You stumbled forward, moving on autopilot, the noise of the crowd faded into a muffled hum behind you.
Everything felt heavy—your limbs, your chest, your head—as if the aftermath of what had just happened weighed heavily on you.
You weren't sure how much time had passed when you finally sat down on the bench outside the principal's office.
The world was a blur; sounds and colors blending together like a smeared painting.
You blinked slowly, the faint scent of milk still clinging to your skin, the cold dampness of your clothes barely noticed.
Inside the office you could vaguely hear the boy you helped recounting what had happened.
His voice wavered as he described the scene, supported by what sounded like the faint playback of a video.
Words like "proof" and "disciplinary action" drifted out along with phrases like "contact parents."
None of it felt real. Your thoughts spiral as you sit there.
'Why...' Your hands clenched tightly in your lap as the smell of sour milk fills your senses. 'Why did I do it? Why did I listen to her at all?'
The question pounded in your mind, relentless and suffocating.
You'd told yourself Akio was your friend, that her requests were just playful teasing. But the truth was impossible to ignore.
A choked sob slipped out before you could stop it.
You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, but they came anyway—hot and relentless as they rolled down your cheeks.
Head bowed, your shoulders tremble as shame and confusion wash over you.
Why were you like this?
Why did you obey?
Why couldn't you say no?
You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but the effort only made your shoulders tremble harder.
All you could do was sit there, shaking, as the tears spilled silently down your cheeks.
"Hey." A voice breaks through the fog.
Eyes fluttering open, you hesitantly look up.
He was crouched in front of you, pink messy hair slightly tousled, the undercut at the sides making the strands at the top stand out even more.
Warm brown eyes filled with a mix of concern and uncertainty meet yours. His expression softened as he noticed the tears streaking your face.
"...you" you croaked barely above a whisper. Recognition flickered faintly in your chest.
It was the voice from the cafeteria. The one who told you to stop.
He offered a small awkward smile. "My name's Yuji Itadori....Are you okay?"
Your lips parted only for a shaky breath to escape, followed by a choked watery sob. You wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.
Quickly lowering your head to avoid his gaze, you stare at your lap as more tears surface.
You barely noticed the warmth of fabric being draped over your shoulders until Yuji's hands brushed against you.
Glancing down, you saw his blazer now wrapped snugly around you. You looked up in surprise as he gently fastened the top button of the blazer to keep it from slipping.
"There," he murmured, leaning back slightly. "That's better."
The kindness in his action was small but oddly comforting. It made your throat tighten again.
And the scent of him—a grassy smell with a faint freshly washed laundry undertone— it enveloped you, comforting you in a way you hadn't expected.
"Can I ask you something? You don't have to talk right now," he added quietly. "But...why did you listen to her? Akio I mean. Why did you do it?"
You trembled as the words struggled to come out. "I...I don't...know," you managed brokenly. "It's always been like this..."
The honesty of your words felt like an admission of guilt. Yuji stayed silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable as he watched you.
Then he broke the silence.
"I don't know what's going on," he began lowly. "I don't know why you listened to Akio—or why you even listened to me back there. But..." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "It's not your fault."
You blinked at the quiet conviction in his tone. He met your gaze, his warm brown eyes filled with determination.
"It's weird," he sheepishly admitted scratching the back of his neck, "but it's pretty clear you're not doing this because you want to. And whatever it is, I don't want it to happen to you again."
He leaned forward slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that felt both grounding and reassuring.
"We'll figure this out okay?" he said firmly. "Whatever this is, whatever's causing it—we'll find a way to break it...together."
The sincerity in his words—the warmth in his voice...it broke something inside you, but in a good way.
It caused the tight knot in your chest to loosen just a little. And for the first time in years, you felt a fragile sense of hope.
It's been two years since the incident at junior high—the milk, the laughter, the phones raised in cruel fascination.
Akio didn't stay long after that.
The expulsion came swiftly when the evidence against her—videos, testimonies, and accounts from the few students you'd unknowingly helped—painted a clear picture of her manipulative bullying.
Her presence was considered detrimental to the school's environment, her behavior a bad influence on others.
Without her, life should've gone back to normal. No more orders, no more fog clouding your mind. But it didn't.
Because there was Yuji.
Yuji's presence in your life was like the Sun breaking through storm clouds—warm, constant, and impossible to ignore.
He became your protector, always at your side, his easy grin and boundless energy a shield against the whispers that followed you both.
No one could explain why his voice carried the same weight over you as Akio's once had.
But unlike Akio, Yuji didn't use it to hurt you.
If anything, he seemed determined to protect you from it, stepping in whenever someone else came too close to testing the limits of your strange compulsion.
The "Tiger of West Junior High," as he was called, had a reputation—an untouchable combination of strength, speed, and charisma.
He could bend goalposts, outrun the fastest sprinters—once even lifted a car during a neighborhood emergency.
His athletic feats alone made him a legend, but his warm personality cemented his popularity. And yet, despite his social status...
Yuji spent every free moment with you.
Lunch breaks? He'd ditch his friends without a second thought to sit by your side, ignoring their groans and teasing.
Even during class Yuji managed to find ways to check in on you. His notorious bathroom breaks soon became a common occurrence.
Teachers groaned, your classmates giggled, and you could only stare in horror as he popped his head into your classroom door.
"Hey ____!" he'd call out cheerfully giving you a quick wave.
"Itadori!" your teacher groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you need something?"
"Nope! Just saying hi," he'd reply, completely unbothered by the mounting irritation in the room.
Despite the detentions and scolding from his grandfather, Yuji never stopped.
Eventually teachers relented—begrudgingly accepting his antics as part of daily life.
After all, he brought the school number of medals and trophies. A little leeway because of his stellar performance in sports if you will.
His spontaneous visits left you embarrassed, face furiously hot as you'd bury your face in your hands.
Still, you couldn't deny the warmth his presence brought.
Though you always found a way to get him back.
It was during school tournaments where his athletic prowess won him so many victories it was almost absurd.
You'd be at every game; decked out in homemade Yuji-themed outfits as you waved signs and chanted his name like a dorky cheerleader—much to his embarrassment.
But he never told you to stop. If anything he ran harder, jumped higher, and fought stronger whenever you were there.
And while Yuji had become a constant in your life—his grandfather had so too.
The front door opens.
"Gramps?" Yuji is seen at the front entrance "I'm home!"
A nervous yet bright smile sits on the pinkette's face as he turns behind him.
"Try not to take it personal about how scary he is..." he said, scratching the back of his neck. "He's like that with everyone. But don't worry! I'll be there so it'll be fine!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth a slipper came flying through the air.
"Where the hell have you been brat?!" an old man's voice barked from inside.
Yuji ducked with a squawk, the footwear bouncing harmlessly off the wall before he straightened with a groan.
"Gramps wait! I was just—"
But Wasuke Itadori wasn't waiting. A second house shoe was already in hand, poised to launch.
He stepped into view, his thin frame wrapped in a wooly green sweater and a pair of pajama pants that looked like they'd seen better days.
"You told me nothing! No call, no heads-up! You think I've got all day to wait for your sorry ass?! You're lucky my hip's been acting up or I'd come over there and—" before Wasuke could launch the next slipper, the door creaked open wider, revealing you.
You stepped inside, wearing an oversized orange t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that looked suspiciously like Yuji's gym clothes
For a moment Wasuke blinked. He lowered the shoe.
The harsh lines of his face smoothed into something softer as he took in your quiet frame. "And who's this?" Wasuke asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
Offering a polite bow you shyly introduced yourself.
"My....my name is ____! I'm a friend of Yuji's. I'm sorry for keeping him out so late—it's my fault. He wanted to check on me after something happened at school. And sorry if this may be sudden, but..."
The grip on the strap of your bag tightened as you nervously met the older man's gaze. "...would it be alright if I stayed over until my parents get off work? They don't want me home alone right now."
Wasuke's eyes flicked over to Yuji then back to you. Then, to the pinkette's utter shock, the older man's lips curved into a genuine (and rare) smile.
"Ah don't worry about it Sweetheart!" The Senior Itadori waves off your apology with a dismissive hand. "Come on in. Don't want you standing out there any longer."
He shuffled forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to guide you inside. "You're here welcome anytime! And no need to cover for that idiot. He's always getting into trouble."
Yuji's jaw dropped at the entire exchange. "Gramps?!"
"Shut up," Wasuke shot back without missing a beat, giving his grandson a light shove against the head with his free hand. "And quit blocking the damn door like that!"
Yuji stood frozen, watching as you and his notoriously grumpy grandfather made your way into the house like old friends.
"Make yourself comfortable," Wasuke said, gesturing toward the couch as he shuffled to the cupboard. "You hungry? Thirsty? Yuji's got snacks hidden in the bottom shelf over there. Don't tell him I told you."
You laughed softly, your shoulders relaxing as the tension melted away. You couldn't help but be reminded of your own grandfather who had passed not too long ago.
Like Wasuke, your grandfather had been crass and sharp-tongued with most people but endlessly gentle with you. The thought made the corners of your smile lift just a little more. "Thank you. And...I won't tell him."
Yuji finally stepped inside all the way, shutting the door behind him as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
His mind raced to catch up with what was happening.
Wasuke Itadori—the same man who could nag for hours about the state of Yuji's room or the amount of rice he ate—was smiling.
You and Wasuke were already deep in conversation. He asked about your day, listened with surprising attentiveness, and even made a few dry jokes that had you laughing.
Yuji couldn't help but stare as his disbelief slowly softened into something warmer—a quiet sense of pride.
"Welp. If Gramps likes her...that must mean something, right?" he muttered under his breath before walking over to join the two of you with a fond smile.
