Coming out to Yaga-sensei 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 cw: bi!reader, emotional distress, internalized shame, reader is outed without her consent, possible homophobia, panic attack, angst/comfort note: happy pride. this isnt based on irl experiences at all !!!! im normal about parental figures !!!! to those who’s trust was betrayed, those who do not have their parents’ support, this is for you.
Little sniffles fill the room. Your phone’s screen lights up your face, the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. You’ve been moping in there for a while. Hoodie pulled down tightly over your forehead, your knees drawn up to your chest. You have to wipe your tears every now and then, the hoodie’s light gray darkens into a smoky tone where your snot seeps into the layers.
You’ve been staring at your phone for a while.
She told literally everyone :/
The notification of the message from your friend sits at the top of the display, persistent, mocking. You’ve made a terrible mistake and you want to undo it with every fiber of your being. Your free hand claws at your chest, wrinkling the hoodie into a fist like the material will absorb all the negative emotions overtaking your heart.
Shame, mostly shame.
You’re not even angry at the girl but rather at yourself. Every time you show vulnerability, you are punished. You should’ve known better. You only have yourself to thank for this.
A teardrop falls to the glass, distorting the letters under it. With shaking hands, you unlock the phone and immediately lock it again, bravery leaving you as soon as you see the messaging app’s icon.
Coming out to her was stupid. You should’ve never opened up.
She seemed so understanding in the moment and even told you she’d keep the secret. “I’m so happy to see you finally loosen up, darling,” she had told you, with a sweet, syrupy voice. “You’re so quiet, I’m glad I can get to know you.”
And you were glad to finally tell someone about this part of you. Now, everyone knows. You’re too busy hating yourself to see it as betrayal, or just a generally shitty thing to do.
Finally, you will yourself to open the app but instead of facing that conversation, you enter a different chat.
Hi! Can you tell Yaga I’m sitting this one out? I don’t feel so good. Must be the food from lunch.
Suguru responds, after about a minute.
Sure thing. Feel better soon :)
You assume that’s all it takes to have the situation handled. Suguru will tell Yaga you’re sick and you’ll be left alone for the afternoon. The best place to freak out in a familiar one, after all.
Shame returns in heavy waves that make you want to sink into the puffy pillows and soft sheets of your bed. Now everyone knows. You’ve heard how some people talk about girls like you.
In a way, you feel like a predator. You were having sleepovers with them and maybe you owed them a coming out, to be upfront, to be sent to change somewhere out of their sight. They’ll think of you as the female creep for always just quietly being there, getting to see their bodies. Not that you’re actually attracted to any of them. Based on their past comments, they’ll assume attraction.
In the end, you are the villain.
U ok?, comes the message but you don’t have it in yourself to reply. You need to process this horrible mistake first, spiral down into every possible outcome, make up worst-case scenarios, imagine all the things people are saying about you.
Suits you for coming out of your shell. Maybe it’s what you deserve for all your crimes. All those times you let the overly friendly girls hug you, all those times they touched your hair or complimented you. They must feel disgusted.
Dude wtf ure gay? The first reaction comes in.
Your chest heaves as a louder sob breaks free from your throat. The phone in your hand slips away as you curl up further into yourself. You want to reject this whole thing with every cell and shake your head, like that will undo it.
What you don’t see from your position is how your door creaks open and a tall man, roughly the size of a proper bookshelf, squeezes himself through the entrance. Only when the mattress dips under his weight as he lowers himself onto your bed do you gain awareness of your surroundings.
“Hey kid. Tell me about that—“
Yaga doesn’t get to finish. You launch yourself towards him like a clumsy frog, clinging to his arm for dear life. There is no time to question why he’s even bothering to check up on you, you’re too desperate for comfort at this point.
“I h-hate myself!” The words don’t ring as loudly and punishingly as you’d like them to, the stuttering and obvious crying weakens the effect.
Yaga freezes. For a moment, his hand hovers awkwardly in the air. The teacher is someone who can snap concrete in half with his bare hands but a crying teenager attached to him like a barnacle is what throws him off a bit.
“I hate myself.” The first time you said it, it sounded like an insult, this time, it’s just a statement. Your face presses hard into Yaga’s shoulder until the stars start appearing behind your eyelids.
His big hand lands between your shoulder blades, stiffly, firmly.
“What happened, kiddo?”
You shake your head again. Explaining it, saying the words out loud just makes it all the more real.
“I’m so— I’m so stupid! And disgusting! And…and now everyone knows,” you cry between sniffles and hiccups, your nails dig into the blanket bunching up between your knees. Poor Yaga, he has no idea what he walked into.
Your shoulders shake. Your eyes hurt. But nothing makes you disappear. The only thing that seems to keep you from being sucked into a panic attack is the mountain that is Yaga. You hide behind him. The hand on your back begins rubbing loose circles, hesitantly.
“You’re not stupid. You’re not disgusting.”
“Yes, I am,” you whimper. A damp patch grows against Yaga’s white sleeve as the tears keep coming. “Yes I am.”
Yaga sighs. It’s the long, deep kind, the same when Kusakabe tells him Satoru broke equipment again or when the higher-ups call in a meeting that definitely could’ve been an email. This is just another Tuesday for Masamichi Yaga. Meanwhile, your world seems to be falling apart.
“Look at me.” His hand trails to the nape of your neck, pulling the hoodie down and tilting your head gently with your hair tangling around his fingers. Your body doesn’t resist the movement and your red-rimmed eyes meet his. Your skin is red in uneven patches from all the crying, eyelids puffy.
“There you are.”
You don’t like how the man’s voice softens. He’s usually hard on everyone because he has high hopes for everyone. So what does it say about you that Yaga is now all understanding and gentle. He’s even about to call you— “Sweetheart.”
Your eyes well up again and a fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks.
“You’re a bright kid. You’re a good kid.” His thumb wipes your tears, one by one. “What happened, mh?”
Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Because saying it out loud means it exists. It means it isn't some awful nightmare you'll wake up from. It means Yaga will know too.
Many moments of silence pass. During that time, your brain goes down another spiral. Is it okay to tell Yaga? Is he safe? In that second, you really just want comfort from someone.
“Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, all the memories of when Yaga was safe come to the surface of your consciousness, like a little collage of postcards you can look at fondly.
When he made a cursed corpse for you to hang out with during your first week at Jujutsu High. When he decided to let Shoko just stick to healing. When you got your period during a mission and he bought you pads without making it weird.
“I…”
When he caught you putting makeup on Suguru and he didn’t even bat an eye.
“I like girls.”
Silence settles, Yaga’s expression doesn’t change. There is no hitch in his breath or a dilation in his pupils. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking and the uncertainty unnerves you.
“I also like boys but that’s not… not the issue,” you try to fill the uncomfortable silence and the way your muscles tense up, it’s evident there’s a ramble incoming. Before that can happen though, Yaga smiles, pulling the brakes on your messy swirl of thoughts.
“That’s okay.” He speaks so calmly. Less like a teacher, more like a… you don’t dare finish that. Masamichi Yaga thinks it’s okay? You’re bisexual and it’s okay?
“It is?”
“Mhm.” Both hands cradle your face now, so gently that the rough hands—more acquainted with punching faces—feel foreign on your skin. “You’re okay. Smart and mellow under that composure. Not stupid and definitely not disgusting.”
Your throat tightens and the sob that was about to claw its way up turns into an ugly, choking sound, making you want to curl into yourself again.
“…I…I told someone else and— and now all the girls know and—“ A wet hiccup makes you cut yourself off. In that moment, your phone buzzes again and you can assume it’s another appalled message.
“Are they mean to you?”
“…a little.”
Yaga nods to himself, as if filing away each detail.
“Listen, kid. You’re at Jujutsu High. You’re safe here. Focus on that for now, yeah?”
When you don’t respond, just stare at him, still sniffling, Yaga tucks a stray lock behind your ear. “Kid?”
“B-but…” Your lip wobbles. “But everyone knows.”
“Everyone?”
“A lot of people.”
“That’s not everyone. And I’m willing to bet that those who really matter, they would still love you.”
“But I’m… I’m gross, sensei.”
“You’re not. You feel a lot of guilt and shame. Right? Those can be icky feelings.” Yaga sighs again and slowly pulls you into a hug. His chin rests on the top of your head, arms curling around your shoulders. You give yourself over to the movement. “Oh, sweetheart, what am I going to do with you?”
Your blubbering quiets down into little whimpers. Your phone is still unattended but you try to do what Yaga told you. Focus on what you have at Jujutsu High. Suguru is nice. Shoko is chill. It’s all okay at Jujutsu High, the people in your phone can’t get to you.
Your breathing is still uneven, hiccuping in little broken waves that make your whole body jolt. Yaga’s hand stays at your back, slow circles continuing like he’s trying to teach your lungs a rhythm again.
“Alright,” he says after a while, voice lower now. “We’re going to do something simple.”
You blink against his sleeve. “W-what…?”
“Sit up a little.”
You hesitate, then reluctantly shift back. The loss of full contact makes panic flare for a second—until his hand moves to your shoulder and anchors you there instead.
“Good. Now breathe in.”
You try. It comes out shaky. “Again.”
After a few cycles, your chest stops feeling like it’s collapsing in on itself quite so violently. The wet trails on your cheeks start drying up.
“There,” he says quietly. “You’re still here.”
Your fingers are still clenched in his sleeve.
“I messed everything up.”
Yaga exhales through his nose, like he’s thinking carefully about every word before it exists.
“You didn’t mess everything up,” he corrects. “You told someone something about yourself. That’s not a crime. But you do need to learn to read people’s intentions better. You’ve always had trouble with that.”
His index finger boops your nose, though his voice grows rougher around the edges.
“I remember how easily non-sorcerer lies slipped away from you when you first started going on missions. You want to see the best in people don’t you? That’s not fair. You always want to see the worst in yourself.”
The storm in your head calms. It’s so peaceful when Yaga-sensei explains something.
“You’re a brave girl for telling me. Good job.”
You don’t quite know what to do with praise when you’re still half-drowning in your own head. The messages are still waiting.
“I should… I should apologize to them.”
“I don’t think you owe them an apology.”
“But—“
“No. Something was taken from you today. You deserve to rest.” When you don’t respond, Yaga continues. “Say it, sweetheart.”
“I… I deserve to rest.”
“Good job.” A soundless kiss is planted on the top of your head and you feel yourself crumbling into a million pieces. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’m taking Satoru on the mission and Suguru’s going to stay here with you.”
“What?”
“He won’t ask you about anything. You know how he is. I just don’t want to leave you alone right now. He’ll stay here and you’ll spar a bit or do homework, nothing too much. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Suguru is nice. You respect his opinion. You respect Yaga’s opinion. Knowing that he cares is the lifeline for you. Their words matter more. Yaga-sensei is probably the best teacher ever.
“Sweetheart?”
“Yes?”
“I’m proud of you.”
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯all rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications, reposts, or ai feeding. disturbing comments will be deleted. english is not my native language.