You're in love with Toji. So in love that you put that serious age gap aside, turned a blind eye to his financial instability and embraced all the risks he brought with him.
You ignored all your friends' advice, their attempts to find someone better for you, someone your age who would be on the same page as you.
But what did you do? You fell first and fell harder.
And that was your biggest mistake; to love a man more than he loves you.
Now, tension has been sitting there for weeks.
You felt it, the distance, the nights he disappears, the cold mornings, the way he doesn't really hold you after sex saying he's got an urgent work to do.
It felt like he knows how to want you, but not how to love you.
You knew about his past, about his dead wife.
And you knew that healing takes time just like love. So you gave him plenty of it.
But it still hurts.
And by the way he murmurs her name in his sleep, you came to the conclusion that Toji still hasn't moved on from her.
"You're leaving again?" you asked as you watched him grab his jacket, in the middle of the night.
"Got work" he muttered.
"You said that last night too!"
"Yeah, and ?" He said without even glancing at you.
That attitude, that cold, detached tone was your last straw.
"Do you even want me to be here? Because it seems like you can't even bear looking at me".
That made him pause, slowly he glanced at you, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Your chest tightened, "It means I'm tired of feeling like I don't matter to you"
Toji scoffed, like you were being dramatic, "You just enjoying starting arguments, don't you?"
"I'm not trying to start anything, Toji"
He exhaled, "Then what do you want, hm?"
"To communicate. To talk." you answered
He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, "Talk about what?"
"About you. About her" you blurted out and he froze.
"You said her name in your sleep.. you always do" you added quietly.
Toji didn't move an inch, "So?"
That "so" felt like a punch to the guts.
"So?" you repeated, "You were always calling out for her when I was there right beside you" .
"You're just making a big deal outta nothing" he replied.
"You really think it's outta nothing?..I feel like I'm in a fucking competing with someone who isn't even al–" your voice rose slightly but you stopped yourself, shutting your eyes.
His eyes darkened, "Finish the sentence"
But you didn't.
You let out a shaky sigh and said, "I get it, took me long enough but now I do".
"You get what?" he asked in confusion.
You looked straight at him, "I'm just filling in for her. I'm filling that space, that emptiness until you decide I'm no longer needed for your lonely ass" you spat through gritted teeth.
For a second, something flickered in his expression, guilt mixed with irritation and frustration.
He still hasn't moved, still crossing his arms, "If you feel that way, then that's a YOU problem"
Your breath hitched, "A ME problem?"
"Yeah" he shrugged, "I didn't ask you to think like that. And if it's affecting you that much then—"
"—Then leave?" you finished for him.
"Don't put words in my mouth Yn" his jaw tightened.
"Yeah, but you sure as hell give me every reason to" you spat.
"You're being dramatic right now and I don't have time for this" he rolled his eyes.
You just stared at him, heart breaking, lump forming in your throat.
You wanted to punch the shit out of him, to let all of your anger on him.
And in that moment, you regretted loving him, sacrificing so much, ignoring your friends' advice just to be with a man who can't handle his own feelings, his own life.
If you can just undo it all.
If you can just turn back time and go back to the night you met at that bar, where he was drinking his pain away, then you'd just walk past him and never go home with him.
You looked down, "The heart can't love two souls at the same time, Toji" you said softly, voice cracking, "So I'm just someone you sleep with?"
His tongue clicked, he was so frustrated and overwhelmed.
He's always been avoiding this confrontation.
"I never asked you to be my girlfriend— you're the one who decided to stick around after that night.."
You went completely still, and so did he.
He never expected himself to say something this harsh to you.
He knew he crossed the line, even if he didn't want to, even if he didn't mean those words.
But the look on your face now hurt him, because he knew what it meant.
He changed his posture, no longer learning against the wall, no longer crossing his arms as if his body screamed at him to reach out to you, but he didn't.
You were just smiling.
"Right" you laughed softly, "I decided to stay. My bad"
You took a step back and his heart dropped.
" Y-you're just overthinking it again" he said trying fix thing but only making it worse.
"No.. no. It's fine" you smiled, and it killed him, "I'm finally thinking straight"
A sharp jolt coursed through him, he knew behind that smile is a serious decision.
"What are you talk–" but you cut him off.
"We're done, Toji.. Oh wait we weren't even anything in the first place, just fuck buddies" you let out a dry chuckle.
Your words landed heavy and thick, striking him directly.
His eyes widened, just staring at you as you walked away.
"Good luck— with your miserable life" you added and it hit him hard.
Toji stood there frozen, thoughts rushing in his head, drowning in the consequences of his own neglect and carelessness.
"I'm not done speaking with you" he called after you, but you ignored him.
And here he feels it again; the emptiness. Just like before you cane to his life.
The feeling of losing someone all over again.
ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ : ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ.
It's been hours since Megumi had left the house.
Your phone screen lit up over and over again with your own attempts to reach him.
But only for you to be met with missed calls and unanswered texts.
Each one made your heart tighten a little more.
You know Megumi, this isn't random.
Something is wrong, something upset him enough to leave without a word.
He's always been like that, whenever he has a problem he disappears to cool off, to deal with his own shit without including you.
And that's what hurts you the most, because he didn't come to you.
You've been friends for so long, and now been dating a few months, so he had plenty of time to try and trust you with his problems.
You sat there waiting. At first patient, the restless, then full on anxious.
Every small noise outside made your head snap up.
You replayed everything from earlier in your head over and over again.
The way he avoided your eyes, his cold expression, his tone when he said "I'm fine" .
You knew he was a tough cookie but you're his girlfriend, the one special person in his life, the one to be with in both good and bad.
But Megumi didn't give you the chance to.
He was just closed off as ever.
Carrying everything alone as if you were never there for him.
Bottling up his emotions until it poisons him from the inside and ends up poisoning your relationship too.
And no matter how many times you've told him "You can talk to me" , he never really does.
The door finally opened and Megumi walked inside.
You were overwhelmed with relief when he first stepped in, but then, it was quickly replaced by frustration and hurt after hours being sidelined.
"Where were you?" you asked, voice tight, crossing your arms.
Megumi paused for a second as he took off his jacket, "Out" .
That's it, that's all you got.
Something in you snapped, "Right. Out... And ignoring me is part of being out, huh?".
He just stared at you with a blank expression and it drove you crazy.
"Megumi I'd been calling you for hours, you have no idea how worried I was".
He shrugged it off like it's nothing, "My phone was on silent" .
What a stupid excuse.
You scoffed, "Oh so basically if I didn't check up on you then I'll just sit here ignored for hours?"
He exhaled clearly not in the mood for an argument, "I didn't think it was a big deal"
And that does it, because it was a hell of a big deal.
"Of course you don't" your words slipped out quieter but sharper.
He frowned slightly, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's means you're clearly having a problem, but chose to disappear for hours, shut me out, and then come back, stand here and act like I'm overreacting"
His expression hardened as he spoke in a defensive tone, "I'm not shutting you out"
"Then what are you doing? What do you call this?" you spat, "Because honestly, it doesn't feel like you trust me at all"
The word Trust, it hit a nerve.
"I do trust you" he said firmly, "I just don't need to talk about everything"
You stared at him, you could feel your hands shake, "Oh but I need to?"
The room went quiet as he waited for you to finish your sentence.
"When I'm upset" you continued, "You ask me to open up. You expect me to be vulnerable. You tell me that it's a safe space to vent, to share"
He didn't interrupt, he just listened.
"So why is it different for you? Why is it a safe space for me but not for you, Megumi?"
His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, he really wanted to stop this conversation before it escalates.
"Because I don't want to drag you into my problems"
"I'm already in them, Megumi" you cut in, "The moment you walk out that door whenever you're upset and make me wait for hours without a single explanation, I was already in them"
You can see it in the way his gaze shifted, the faint crack in his composure, yet he didn't admit it, didn't step forward.
"So tell me, what's wrong?" you asked anyway.
He hesitated, his chest tightened at the way you stood there in front of him fidgeting with tour fingers waiting for him to open up.
But he couldn't, "I said— I'm fine" he insisted, just like always.
Megumi never says what he really feels and it frustrated you, to keep on guessing and analyzing everything on your own. Solving him like a riddle.
"NO YOU'RE NOT" you snapped, but he didn't flinch.
"Yn I don't have to report everything to you"
His words hit like a slap.
Because you tell him everything. So that feeling of the trust being one-sided hurts you.
"I never said you have to" you whispered, swallowing back the lump forming in your throat.
"Then stop acting like I did something wrong"
"You did. And the problem is that you don't bother noticing" you replied.
He exhaled sharply, "I don't see why you had to turn this into a fight"
You let out a humourless laugh, "So it's my fault now? Me voicing my feelings on how my boyfriend isn't give me the chance to be there for him when he's upset is what started this fight and not you and your audacity to push me away?"
His patience snapped and he raised his voice, "Not everything is about you. You don't have to be included in every aspect of my life"
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
But it was too late, the damage was already done.
You froze, because that was never your intention.
All what you wanted to do is to be there for him, to comfort him.
But vulnerability doesn't come easy to Megumi.
Your face immediately changed, "..Wow"
That's all what you said just 'wow' , no anger, no yelling, just disappointment.
And somehow it was worse. Way worse.
Megumi finally took a step forward, "That's not what I meant–"
"No" you shook your head, "I think it is"
He reached for you, then he let his hand fall and of course you noticed.
"You know what" you said but quickly stopped yourself, you let out a sigh instead, "forget it.."
You were so hurt and so done with him and his coldness.
"Wait.. Yn" he said quickly, frustration mixing with panic.
"I'm done talking Megumi. I'm so fucking done with you" you replied not looking at him as you walked back to your room.
"You don't mean that" he said but you didn't answer, you just kept walking.
Megumi stood there, fists clenched, emotions tangled in ways be doesn't know how to express.
Now he desperately wanted to finish this argument.
Because fighting seemed less terrifying than you giving him the silent treatment.
But pride and fear wrapped around his throat and kept him silent.
Yet this time your silence matched his.
And now the house felt too cold, too empty.
And for the first time Megumi realized how being shut off truly feels.
ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ ʜɪʀᴏᴍɪ : ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴ-ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ
You weren't planning to start an argument that evening, you simply passed by his office after work so you can go home together.
You didn't knock, you knew he had no meeting at that time so you just opened the door and got inside.
And again, she was there, his assistant.
She wasn't at her desk doing whatever tasks she has.
She was standing a little too close to him, showing him a file.
You could feel anger already building, but you didn't react just yet.
You cleared your throat and both of them looked up at you, finally noticing you standing there.
"Oh" she started, "I didn't realize you had company".
The way she said it, it made your blood boil, referring to you like you were nobody and not his wife.
"I came to pick you up– Hiromi" you said, voice steady.
Your husband nodded slightly, "Yes, I'll be done shortly"
You sat down watching.
Yet she didn't leave, she simply had no shame.
You've been noticing this for a while now, whenever you passed by his office, whenever the two of you talked on the phone, she was always there, trying to push your buttons, to cross the boundaries, to steal Hiromi from you.
The way she laughs at things that weren't even funny.
The way her hand brushes his arms like it's accidental.
The way she shamelessly stares at him even if you were there
And the worst part?
Hiruguma is being oblivious.
You didn't bring it up before because for both of you trust is everything.
But you trust him, not her.
So every time you wait for him to notice that's she's clearly flirting with him, to notice that it's bothering you.
And as your husband, he must do or say something about it.
But he didn't.
And this time you stated to doubt it. If he's genuinely oblivious or he knows but secretly enjoying it.
"You're overworking again, Higuruma-san" she said with a whiny voice.
He didn't respond right away, he just kept checking the document in his hand, "Tomorrow arrange another meeting please" he said.
"Oh absolutely" she smiled, "Let me help you" she added as she reached for his coat draped over the chair.
Your heart jumped to your throat. You can feel your stomach twisting.
You didn't say anything, you just observed his reaction, but he didn't seem to care, he just took his coat and adjusted his sleeves.
"Good night, Higuruma-san" she smiled, completely ignoring your presence, then she left.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding the whole time watching them like some boss/assistance romance movie.
He gathered his things and said, "Let's go"
But you didn't move an inch, it was the best time to finally stop holding it, put all that trust aside and let your feelings out.
"Can we talk about your assistant?" you started.
"What about her?" he asked confused.
"She's being inappropriate"
He frowned slightly, "In what sense?"
His question itself irritated you.
"She's flirting with you, she's crossing limits" you said through gritted teeth.
He exhaled softly, "I think you're misinterpreting her behavior"
"What? I'm not misinterpreting anything, Hiromi" you answered, tone sharper than before.
He sat down now, giving you his full attention, "Okay. Then provide an example"
You stared at him in disbelief, "...Are you serious right now?"
And he nodded calmly, "Yeah, if you're making a claim then it should be supported"
You felt like air got knocked out of your lungs, because it didn't feel like a conversation anymore. It felt like a cross-examination.
"I'm not in court, Hiromi" you laughed under your breath.
"Still you're making an accusation" he shrugged.
Your frustration spiked, "Oh my god, quit using that courtroom tone with me, I'm your wife. Besides this isn't about evidence, it's about how I feel!!"
"Feelings can be misleading Yn"
And that, hurt more than it should.
"So now my feelings aren't valid?" you asked.
"I didn't say that so don't twist my words"
"But you implied it, Hiromi".
"I simply questioned your interpretation"
The way he was so calm about the whole situation made it worse for you.
"You're doing it again" you shook your head in disbelief.
"Doing what, hm?"
"Turning everything into a case to win instead of just listening to me!"
"I am listening—" he replied, "I just don't agree with your conclusion".
You laughed, "Of course you don't. So I just woke up today and decided to imagine things huh?"
Silence hung heavily between you as you paced in his office.
"Do you even care that this bothers me?"
"I care" he stated.
"Then why on earth does it feel like you're defending her instead of setting boundaries?"
His expression tightened as he ran a hand on his face, "I'm not defending her. I'm simply correcting what I believe is a flawed assumption"
"Flawed?" you repeated.
"Yes"
Your muscles twitched, "Are you really that dense, or you're just simply playing dumb because you enjoy the way she's pampering you huh?"
He froze, "That's a serious accusation Yn"
"Accusation my ass, Hiromi. She's clearly into you, it's been weeks, and she's always flirting, staring at you like you're the only man on earth"
"You know she's only my assistant, right? Besides she's competent and that's the only thing I care about"
"So you don't care about my discomfort?"
"That's not what I said"
"But that's exactly what it meant" your voice rose now, "I was standing here like an idiot and you just didn't stop her"
His tone sharpened slightly, "Because there was nothing to stop"
"THERE WAS FOR ME" you shouted.
Silence took over the office after you yelled at him.
"You could've said something, did something. But you just don't care enough to set some simple boundaries" you added.
His expression tightened, "That's an unfair conclusion"
"Is it?" you pressed, "Because from where I'm standing it's either you're a careless husband or enjoy being desired" .
He stood up in defense as he walked towards you, his body towering over you, "Do you hear yourself right now?"
"Yes. Loud and clear" you replied not breaking eye contact with him.
"Then we will talk about this again when we get home"
"No" you refused casually.
"No?" he frowned.
"I'm not doing this with you anymore.. I'm not going to repeat myself and try to prove my point —" you said, "And honestly the fact that you you're literally debating me in this instead of being considerate, tells me everything I needed to know" you added and walked towards the door.
He paused, "Wait what?" he grabbed your wrist.
"It's been weeks with this situation, swallowing it back, telling myself that trust is everything.. but things gor out of hands" you explained coldly as your yanked your wrist from his grip, "If this is how it is, then I don't think we're right for each other anymore"
His heart sank deep in his chest, and for the first time Hiromi Higuruma stutters, "Y–you want ...a d-divorce?"
ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ : ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴜꜱ
You sat at the dining table, staring at the dinner you had prepared with love and care.
The candles had burned low, the food had grown cold.
You didn't feel sad, you just felt painfully, embarrassingly small in your own skin.
Kento promised to get home early, but like everytime, work kept dragging him into overtime.
Being a jujutsu sorcerer is a heavy responsibility that he values, and you know that, but being committed to a marriage is just as important.
You grabbed your phone, thinking about calling him but you stopped yourself.
Instead, you scoffed and threw your phone somewhere on the couch.
You were fed up, sick of always being the one waiting, always the one making time, always the one in need of him.
So you started eating, everything on that table.
You ate your plate, his plate. Devouring every bite angrily.
You didn't care you were full and almost sick, so you finished off the dessert as well.
After finishing, you slammed the empty plates in the floor, toppling the flower vase as well.
"Ain't washing no stupid dishes"
You were too full of food to do anything else, so you went to your room, still wearing the dress he likes so much and threw yourself on the bed, crying your eyes out to sleep.
Nanami finally came home, exhausted.
His heartbeat quickened when he saw the broken plates, the ruined flowers and the burned candles.
Seeing that mess, he thought someone broke into the house.
He strode through the house to find you, and relief washed over him when he saw you on the bed asleep, safe and sound.
But that relief vanished instantly when he realized that the broken plates and tossed flowers were because you were angry at him for being late again.
But this time, he knew your reaction wasn't like before when he overworked .. this time you were furious with him.
You were curled up, hair tangled still in your dress.
Seeing you like this pierced him, he hates that you went to bed upset.
That he didn't come home early enough to apologize and to comfort you.
He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, then he slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
His hand moved gently over your arm, then your back.
His fingers brushed your hair to sooth you more into sleep but his touch pulled you from your slumber.
Your body tensed up as you woke up, startled.
He stilled immediately, his voice soft as he spoke trying to ground you, "It's me..love. It's just me".
He tried to caress your arm again, "Are you okay?"
But you pushed his hand away, glaring at him. And he knew he were in deep shit.
"I.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you waiting" he started.
"Stop" you immediately snapped, voice still low but sharp, "Just.. stop. Don't even start with that".
He just stared at you, hus heart breaking into a million pieces.
He didn't dare say anything, he wanted you to let everything out.
You continued, voice cracking between hurt and anger, "I waited for you! I prepared a romantic dinner for us! Candles, flowers" you scoffed, "All that cheesy bullshit.. all for you.. and you? Didn't even bother show up, again!"
Nanami looked down, he felt too ashamed, "I know, love.. and I truly appreciate —"
"No. Don't lie, you're not appreciating anything I do, Kento" you cut in angrily, "Do you know how it feels, sitting there like an idiot, staring at an empty chair every night, hoping that my husband would show up?"
He looked up at you and he was met with pure rage.
Your eyes didn't carry any softness in them, "But of course you don't know how it feels because I've never made you wait. I've always been available".
His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense but he spoke gently, "I know.. you're always there for me.."
You let out a humourless laugh, "Of course you do know that, and that's exactly why you took it for granted... Oh she's always there for me, I'm sure doesn't mind waiting a little longer... oh I'm sure she would understand if I broke a fucking promise... That's what you know, huh?"
You paused, exhaling sharply then added, "But I'm so done being taken for granted"
Guilt etched on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, "I know love. I know I messed up really bad. I've been selfish and I hate I made you feel sad"
You scoffed, "Sad? I'm not sad anymore. I'm feeling embarrassed and pathetic"
That word Pathetic made his breath hitch.
"Pathetic for always being the one who asks, who calls, who waits, the one who wants to spend time together, the one who's always making effort that shouldn't have been one-sided" you continued as you counted then on your fingers, "You have no idea how much I hate myself for it"
Nanami was now at a loss of words, "I'm truly sorry.. love—"
"Stop saying sorry" you shouted, "I'm sick of hearing it everytime. You really think that word would fix everything?".
It was the first time Nanami sees this side of you. No softness, no smiles, just straight up yelling at his face.
It shocked him to the core.
"I understand, and I will do better. I promise you" he said desperately as he took an hesitant step toward you, "I'll be here, I'll make time. I don't want you to feel this alone again"
You shook your head, "Promises don't mean a damn thing to me anymore. You can't just throw around promises you won't keep"
The tension in the room felt so heavy.
Nanami looked at you with broken eyes, desperate to make it right.
And now, you felt it creeping up, the heat on the back of your neck, your heartbeat went crazy as your breath ragged and stomach twisted violently.
You stopped, steadying yourself.
"Love?" said Nanami frowning as your expression changed.
Nausea churned through you and your face went pale.
Without a word, you rushed past Kento who looked alarmed.
You sprinted towards the bathroom clutching your stomach as you felt the urgent need to vomit.
He quickly followed behind you, worry written all over his face.
His heart was pounding, if you were sick because if him, he knew he's never forgive himself.
ʜᴀᴋᴀʀɪ ᴋɪɴᴊɪ : ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ, ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ.
You and Hakari finally found time doe each other, no missions, no stress, no nothing.
Both of you were on the couch.
Your legs stretched across his lap as you scrolled through your phone trying to pick a good place for your date night.
Hakari was leaning back into the cushions, one hand on your feet, and the other holding his phone as he played a game.
"Okay.. this one is cute, but it's a bit far" you said and tilted your phone slightly toward him to see.
He glanced over your screen, "Mm.. not really my vibe—but I'll go wherever you choose"
You smiled a little at that, "You're no help at all, but okay"
He let out a short laugh, his eyes still glued on his phone.
Your legs shifted slightly on his lap, "Oh wait! There's is this rooftop place.. This looks really nice actually, it has thay city view at night. I'm sure you'd like this one"
You glanced up, showing him the picture , excitedly anticipating his reaction.
"Oh I know this rooftop place, I used to go there with her all the time" he said casually and you froze.
You clutched your phone in your hand, and said calmly, "Why do you always do that?".
"Hm? Do what?" he asked still focused on his phone.
"Find a way to bring her up everytime"
Now he finally glanced at you, "I didn't –"
"Yes you did" you cut in.
You sat up slightly, pulling your legs from his lap to create some distance.
"I'm just saying that we went there multiple times before.. no big deal"
"No big deal?" you said your eyes widening at his audacity, "I've been trying for hours to pick a nice place, thinking about our date and all you can think about is her?"
His hand tightened around his phone, "You know I didn't mean it like that!!"
You fully stood up now, "This isn't the first time you've brought your ex up, Kinji. So how the fuck am I supposed to know what you truly mean?".
Hakari's patience was running low, "And what if I brought her up? It's not like I'm still in love with her"
The tension thickened as you clenched your fists and said, "I get it Kinji, you broke up but still maintained a good friendship and you know very well I respect your friends, but I believe you should respect our relationship in return"
"So that's what you think? That I don't respect you?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together.
"You've been on your phone the whole time texting or playing games while I've been planning our date. And you didn't bother contribute with any ideas as if you didn't care at all if we went out together or not"
"Aha!!! Here we go again with making me look like the bad, terrible and trashy boyfriend, huh?" he snapped.
"What? Am I lying? You've been just humming while I spoke and the moment you chose to say something you mentioned her" you snapped back.
"You're just overly jealous, Yn. You're not thinking straight"
"Jealous?" you let out a dry laugh, "Nah babe, I just don't tolerate disrespect".
"You'd be calling everything I do disrespect, Yn" he raised his voice.
As you were about to answer him, his phone screen lit up.
He paused as he brought the phone up to check the notifications he received.
You can't deny it, it pissed you off.
You were in the middle of an important conversation and he had the audacity to check his phone.
You huffed in frustration as you snatched his phone from his grip.
You were about to throw it in the couch so you can finish this argument, but stopped, eyes widening when you saw her name.
"Yn give it back" he said.
You can feel your guts twisting as your eyes scanned the open chat on his screen, "You're texting her?"
"It's not what it looks like, Yn , so don't jump to conclusions" he explained.
"So what does it look like?" you said as you scrolled further into their messages, "Having fun sending each other reels and memes hm? That's why you're eyes are always glued to your phone?" you said through gritted teeth.
He tried to rake it again, "Give me the damn phone, Yn for god's sake"
"Why? Are you hiding something? Is there anything else you're sending each other beside these? Nudes perhaps? or confessing how much you missed each other?"
His patience fully snapped, "Oh give me a fucking break!! I'm not hiding shit, am I not allowed to be friends with an ex?"
You yelled back as you threw the phone on his face and he groaned, "Bullshit! You're enjoying your time texting her while I sat there planning a date you don't give a fuck about"
"I do give a fuck about everything you do, Yn—"
You stepped forward, eyes blazing, "I'm so done with you. I don't even know why I've been so patient with you all this time when I clearly deserve better that being your second choice!!"
You walked past him, but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back to where you were standing, "You're just assuming things, Yn!"
At this point you were raging, "I can befriend my ex, text him all the time and let's see what you'd assume!"
"I wouldn't assume anything because I trust you!" he said.
"You're lying! you're just trying to make me feel bad for not trusting you. But lemme clarify this, you broke that trust Kin, so it's not on me".
He only stared at you, not knowing what to say anymore.
But you continued, "Oh and if you're that crazy about your ex then go ahead and run back to her. You're a free man now"
You grabbed your bag and strode towards the front door.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked heart thumping in his chest.
You stopped mid-step and looked at him over your shoulder, "It means I'm breaking up with you".
Hakari stood there, speechless as you slammed the door behind, leaving him there.
ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ : ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢᴇꜱᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ʟᴏꜱᴇ.
You had just come back home from a mission, a rough one.
Not an easy curse but a nasty special grade, yet you handled it by yourself.
You were bruised and beyond exhausted but above all you were proud.
All what you wanted to do, is take a refreshing shower, maybe your boyfriend Satoru could join and then cuddle the whole night.
But somehow, men always find a way to ruin things.
You found Satoru sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
"I'm back!!" you announced your presence with a smile.
He quickly looked up, "Hi baby—oh, you look roughed up, did you take a beating?"
You took off your shoes, "Nah, just a nasty special grade"
He smiled, "Oh well I'm glad you managed to come back alive"
You paused mid-move, "What did you just say?"
"I said, I'm glad you're alive babe" he grinned.
"Why? You thought I wouldn't handle it alone?" you feeling a bit affected by his comment.
"Alone? No way! I thought you were with the others" He leaned back, "I guess you got lucky".
You can feel the humiliation run through you, "I didn't get lucky, it was all my own effort"
He chuckled, "Cute"
And you genuinely didn't know if he was just teasing you or being for real.
"..cute?" you repeated, fingers tightening slightly against your sleeve.
He smiled, "Yeah.. you're improving!"
Improving, that hit hard.
You laughed dryly, "I exorcised a strong special grade on my own and—"
"And you survived. Good job" he cut in winking.
That tone. Like he's praising a child, like he's underestimating you.
Your chest tightened, "Don't talk to me like that. I'm not one of your students, Satoru"
"Relax! Then what exactly you want me to say? I said you're improving, you have less bruises than last mission—"
You scoffed in disbelief, "Are you serious? I don't need you to evaluate me, Satoru"
He shrugged, "I'm not evaluating you, Yn. I'm just stating the obvious"
"The obvious is that I'm doing my job well as a sorcerer"
"Well if I were you.. I wouldn't be so sure" he tilted his head slightly, "I could wipe out ten of special grades without breaking a sweat"
You just stared at him in shock, ".. why does everything has to be compared to you?"
He blinked as if your question didn't make sense, "Because I'm the standard??"
The way he said so casually pissed you off even more.
"No.. you're not. Not everything revolves around you, Satoru!"
He brought his hands up, "Hey hey, I didn't say that"
You let out a sharp breath, "You don't have to. You act like it".
He stood up now, clearly irritated, "You're taking this way too personally, Yn"
You laughed, "Because it is personal"
You stepped closer as you continued, "Everytime I do something you reduce it to nothing, just because you can do it better".
"Maybe because I'm the strongest? But that doesn't mean I'm belittling you!"
"Do you even hear yourself, Satoru?" you snapped.
"I'm being realistic, Yn!"
You shook your head, anger rising faster now, "No, you're being arrogant!"
He exhaled, "I don't understand why you came home and immediately started picking up fights"
"Maybe because you're making everything about you! We're not competing Satoru, we're in love!" you shouted, "But your ego is always in the way, isn't it, even with me.. And it's making you disrespectful and offensive"
His expression hardened, "I do respect you!"
"Then stop treating me like I'm beneath you"
He instantly snapped back, "Then stop being insecure because I'm stronger and accept it like everyone else already"
You gasped softly.
The moment those words left his lips he wanted to swallow them back.
He regretted each and every word.
He knew he went too far, he was just frustrated.
And when Gojo Satoru is frustrated, he tends to hurt people around him.
Your eyes were glassy, but you didn't cry.
"Baby..I ..." he stepped forward, his arm extending toward you.
But you took a step back, not flinching away, just no wanting him near you.
Your eyes burned through him and a chill ran down his spine.
You quickly started putting your shoes back again, and he tried to stop you, but you glared at him, "Don't. Don't you dare Satoru"
"Baby I didn't —" his eyes softened, but it was too late.
"You're so used to being the strongest" your voice dropped, "You forgot how to stand next to someone instead of above them... I pity you"
And that right there, hit him harder than any insult.
You didn't wait for him to say anything back, you just slammed the door and left.
He wanted to move, to stop you and solve all this, but his legs wouldn't let him.
He was struck by what you said and he stood there reflecting.
Satoru was scared, terrified of losing you and of the loneliness he's been hiding behind his strength.
ʏᴜᴛᴀ ᴏᴋᴋᴏᴛꜱᴜ : ꜱᴇʟꜰʟᴇꜱꜱ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴇʟꜰɪꜱʜ
You didn't hear it from him, you heard it from someone else.
And that what made it worse.
The mission, the plan, the risks.
He might not come back alive.
You might lose him forever.
When you finally found him, he was too calm.
Sitting there like it's just another day.
Like he didn't agree to something that could end his life .
You were out of breath as you were running fast to find him.
When he looked up and his eyes met yours, he knew.
"Is it true?" you asked.
He just looked down, didn't answer but didn't deny it either.
Your chest tightened as you let out a shaky breath, "So it's true!"
He stood slowly, and took your hands in his gently, "I promise it's not as bad as it sounds—" he tried to comfort you.
You yanked your hands away, "Not as bad?" you cut him off, voice already shaking, "You agreed to a plan where you might die, Yuta!"
He exhaled, "I have to do it so no one else gets hurt"
"And what about you?" you asked.
He didn't answer right away, because to him, his safety wasn't the priority.
You let out a broken laugh, "Right. Of course you didn't think about yourself, because you always put others first"
"Love please.. I need you to understand me!" he started, eyes soft.
"Understand what?" you snapped, "That's you're willing to die? That's you're willing to leave me? To abandon what we have?"
He took a step forward, cupping your cheek, "Love that's not what I meant—"
"Then what did you mean? because from where I'm standing, it's like you're completely fine with dying as long as everyone else gets to live!" your voice rose, your emotions spilling all over the place.
"Sweetheart please.." he begged.
"Did you even think about me? about us?" your voice cracking.
He stared at you lovingly, his thumbs caressing your skin, and you involuntary leaned into his touch, "Of course I did.."
"Not enough" you shook your head, "Not enough to stop, to refuse throwing yourself in death's grasp"
That landed harder than expected.
"Please understand me, Yn.. you'd be safe—"
But you cut him off again with a scoff, a tear rolling down your cheek, "Safe?" you repeated, "You think that's what I care about? I don't care about being safe if you're gone, Yuta"
Silence crashed down, that comforting smile he was trying to maintain finally dropped.
"I can see it in your eyes, Yuta, you've already accepted the possibility if not making it out alive" your voice trembled, "And it's killing me already"
He was silent the whole time, heart shattering as he listened to you.
"You're being selfless to everyone but selfish to me" you expressed.
Yuta stopped in his tracks. Your words landed so deeply it felt like it went straight through him and stayed there.
But you continued, desperate to make him change his mind, "So you didn't think of a future with me? Am I that unimportant to you to leave behind?"
His breath hitched, "What? Love, of course I did. I always do. I've thought about a lifetime with you! Us getting married and being a family.."
You sniffled, "Then act like it. Act like you really want it to happen, because all what we dreamt of wouldn't be possible of you chose that risky mission over being with me"
He paused, and he realized that he's now in-between; choose the mission but guarantee a peaceful world or choose you and let the chaos take over.
"Don't go... please" you begged whispering, eyes full of tears and it broke him to see you like that.
He swallowed hard, hands shaking, he wanted to say a lot of things but words wouldn't come out.
"So you already took the decision, huh?" you asked.
You didn't wait. You were about to break down in tears so you left running.
"Love wait.. please" he called after you.
Yuta clutched his heart, he was hurting as well.
His eyes started watering, he was stuck in that dilemma, torn between two choices.
summary: yuta is sweet. tooth-aching. but you've never had much of a sweet tooth.
content: 17.7k words. fem!reader, some angst and fluff, religious imagery, 2 yrs post-shinjuku (my goats are alive), some jealousy, reader has a technique, megumi+reader are childhood bsfs, yumeno is reader's last name! timeskips, no use of y/n
"I love you."
Yuta loves you.
He loves the way you smile, the way your laugh sings in his ear, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, the way you talk. He loves the way your fingers brush against him when passing something, he loves the way you tilt your head when you're thinking about something.
He loves you as though you're woven into the very cycle of life, as though you're the atoms that make up the air in his lungs, as though you're the very cataclysmic explosion that gave birth to the universe.
And it's the most exhilarating thing he has ever felt.
(It's dying. It's living.
It's heaven. It's hell.)
"And you don't have to feel the same way," he smiles, eyes downcast. "I just wanted to let you know."
He can feel your eyes on him, shocked no doubt. To be fair, he didn't mean to spring this on you.
All you did was ask if he wanted to accompany you to the nearest convenience store and somehow the two of you ended up trapped in the awning of the store where there was a sudden downpour. You had laughed and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him headfirst into the rain ("Have some fun, Okkotsu!"), and you just looked so divine, laughing as the rain soaked your uniform and hair.
Now, here he was, pouring the oceans that are his feelings for you, waiting anxiously for your reply. It's been a while since he has laid out his chest bare and he feels the claws of anxiety sink into his skin. (He feels like Mr. Darcy—that was his name, yes?—in the pouring rain. Except he is no Mr. Darcy and you are a deity descended from the heavens.)
The only sounds are your heavy breathing and the pitter-patter of the rain on the pavement. With every passing silent moment, he wants to summon Rika and command her to kill him on the spot. His white uniform sticks to his body, the rain clinging to the strands of his dark hair.
(He looks like a martyr awaiting your judgment—head bowed and hands trembling at his side.)
"I—" you start, and his already tense shoulders tense up even more.
Please don't look at me with pity. Please don't say you're sorry. Please say we can still be friends. Please. Please—
"I like you too."
It seems as if he has been crucified and resurrected. His head snaps up, eyes wide, wet lashes framing the stunned disbelief on his face and you're standing there with your wet clothes and hair plastered on your forehead, a halo, a crown. (Is this what Mary felt when she saw Archangel Gabriel?). The rain has faded into the background and he wants to hear those words—his scripture—once again.
"What?" His voice cracks on the single syllable. Pathetic, yes, but he can't bring himself to care.
You step closer. You were already close from before but now you're close, close enough for him to feel the warmth that oozes out of you, close enough to feel your breath on his lips, close enough to be blessed by the Almighty.
"I said," you draw out the syllables, a hand coming to cup his face. "I like you, Okkotsu, keep up. I thought special grades were supposed to be quick on their feet?"
And then your mouths meet and he feels his body rejoice. The world ends and begins. There was light in the vast darkness. A supernova and the start of stellar evolution. Your lips are warm despite the rain's cold and you taste faintly of the soda you were drinking earlier—and his lungs collapse for a moment.
His hands hover awkwardly before they find solace in your waist, clutching your wet uniform. His grip is tight, anchoring himself before he starts floating towards the heavens from the overwhelming sense of euphoria that thuds against his ribcage.
You like him, you like him, you like him—!
When you pull away, a cry rips out of his throat and he immediately tries to chase after your lips, and you laugh—a small puff of breath that warms his cold lips. His cursed energy swirls around you in a frenzy—its wide expanse on the edge of swallowing you whole.
"Do you get it now?" you tease. "Was that so hard to comprehend?"
"I love you." A prayer, a hymn, a litany. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"
"Okay, okay," you hush him with an index finger to his lips but you're smiling. "I heard you the first time, Okkotsu."
He pulls you into his chest, his face buried into your crown. His hands wrap around you more tightly and you squeak in protest. The rain still kisses the ground and the convenience store in the distance emits tiny jingles from its automatic doors. The skies roar with a faint thunder.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confesses, pulling away to see your heavenly face (but his grip is unrelenting). "Ever since you smiled at me in first year. I thought—"
"Shh." Your hands come around his back, fingers digging into the now-translucent material of his uniform. "You need to calm your cursed energy."
Who is he to disobey? It's supposed to be easy—he trained with Miguel for goodness sake but his cursed energy always goes out of control when you're near, but still he tries to keep it at bay. He presses a kiss to your hair, to your temple, to the shell of your ear—each touch a promise of his devotion to you.
God, Yuta loves you.
Okkotsu's sweet.
Like candy that'll melt on your tongue, the peach juice on a hot summer day, the pollen to a bee. Simple, quick and relieving. He's good on the eyes too, which is an added bonus.
But he kneels at an altar you didn't know you built. Every word an offering, every touch a devotion. You don't know how to feel—is he putting you on a pedestal or is this simply how he loves? But you don't get an answer, and you're not sure if you want to know.
"Itadori-kun, this looks really good." Your mouth waters at the sight of the lasagna the third-year has presented to you. You are not a huge fan of foreign food but, hey, if your underclassmen asked if you would like some food (ignoring the fact it's two in the morning and it's just you two alone in the kitchen), who are you to turn him down?
Itadori's cheeks match the pink of his hair at your praise. "Thanks, Yumeno-senpai!"
You take a seat next to Itadori on the counter and twirl your fork. "You know, you can just use my first name. We've known each other long enough."
Itadori scratches the back of his neck. "Ah, but Yumeno-senpai has a nice ring to it, don't you think? And it's way more respectful! You are a fourth year and my grandfather always told me to respect my upperclassmen."
You sling an arm around his shoulders. "Itadori-kun, you really are too nice for this world." You take a bite of the lasagna. "And a good cook! Wow, this is really good!"
"Really!?" His face lights up like you've told him he's just won the lottery. "I was worried about the seasoning. Kugisaki always tells me I never do it right and Gojo-sensei always says I need to add more salt."
"That man only eats sugar so never trust him with any food opinions," you say sagely. "Actually, don't trust any of the advice he sells as life-changing."
Itadori laughs and it's bright, easy.
The conversation flows easily after that. You understand why the other third years stick to him like glue. Itadori really is sunshine made manifest.
You talk about nothing and everything—his latest mission with Kugisaki and Megumi (apparently the girl almost exorcised the sea-urchin than the curse due to the similarities in looks), Maki throwing a cursed tool at Inumaki and Panda when they ate her portion for lunch, and apparently Itadori trying to bake because of wanting to "expand my range".
"You're going to make someone very happy someday," you say as you finish the last bite, letting out a contented sigh.
His face turns a tiny bit red. "Senpai!"
"What? It's true?" You ruffle his hair and he leans into the touch like a puppy (if Itadori ever turned into a puppy, you'd steal him away). "Any girl or guy would be lucky."
"Well. . ." He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly interested in the empty plate on his lap. "I don't really think about that stuff. There's too much going on, you know? With everything that has happened so far . . ."
Ah. You look at the younger boy and his tight expression and yours softens. You bump your shoulder with his. "Well, when you're ready, they'll be lucky."
Itadori smiles and it reaches his eyes this time. "Thanks, senpai."
The clock strikes three when you and Itadori finally part ways after washing the dishes. The fourth year dorm area is silent save for the distant humming for the vending machine and the buzzing of the cicadas.
You stop when you feel that familiar state of overwhelm bind your shoulders and slithers all around you, and at the end of the hallway. You stop and spot a figure you weren't supposed to see for another two days. Okkotsu.
The poor guy looks awful—his uniform is rumpled and the bags under his eyes seem even darker even with the dim lighting in the hallway. Yet when your gazes meet, his entire face transforms and the exhaustion melts away, and his eyes come back to life.
"Yumeno." He sounds relieved to be saying your name. He quickly makes his way to you, a gentle smile tugging on the edge of his lips. "What are you doing up at this hour? You should be asleep."
"I should be asking you that," you say, tilting his chin to inspect any damages. None. As expected from a special grade sorcerer. "You weren't supposed to be back until the end of the week. Gojo-sensei said it was a heavy mission."
"Finished early," he hums, his hands coming up to place it on his cheeks. "Wanted come back and see everyone. Wanted to see you."
Such a simple and honest yet loaded answer. That's Yuta Okkotsu for you.
Before you can give an answer, you hear footsteps behind you and feel Itadori's cursed energy (which you can describe as straightforward). You immediately drop your hands from Okkotsu's face.
"Yumeno-senpai! Wait—oh!" Itadori comes to a halt and you turn around to find him holding a phone. Your phone. "I think we swapped our phones while eating and doing the dishes. Mine has a Gintama keychain and this one has a—"
"Totoro charm," you finish, fishing out your pocket and, sure enough, Gintoki Sakata is hanging from the phone you just fished out. "Oops. Sorry about that."
"No worries." Itadori hands you your phone and seems to notice Okkotsu. "Oh! Okkotsu-senpai, you're back early. How was the mission?"
"It was alright." Okkotsu smiles at the underclassmen. His energy is infectious despite it being three in the morning. "Thank you for keeping her company, Itadori-kun."
Itadori, bless his oblivious heart, just waves him off with a shake of his head. "It was nothing. I just made some lasagna and she found me cooking so she ate it. She said she liked it though!"
"Huh. . ." Okkotsu's eyes wander back to you and you ignore his gaze, smiling at Itadori instead and bidding him a good night and to sleep well for training in the morning. The salmon-haired boy waves goodbye to you and Okkotsu before continuing down his merry way.
There's a moment of silence before you speak: "Your cursed energy is going haywire."
Okkotsu has the decency to look sheepish and you feel the oppressive weight of his cursed energy pacifies slightly—not fully when you're near.
"Sorry," he apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just . . . I—I wasn't expecting you to be with Itadori so late."
The implication isn't lost on you. You could address it, and ask why his cursed energy felt like it was about to blow up the entire dormitory building at the sight of you with the pink-haired underclassman.
You don't. You look the other way instead and start walking to your door and Okkotsu is hot on your heels.
The walk to your dorm is short but Okkotsu makes it feel like a pilgrimage. His long legs match your pace perfectly and his pinky is hooked around yours.
"You didn't have to come back so quickly," you say. "You could've stopped by some hotel instead of coming all the way back to Tokyo."
"I wanted to." He turns to look at you and his expression is soft, earnest. "There were a plethora of curses but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Miguel came by from Africa during the second day, and said my control is getting better."
"Yet I'm the exception."
His pale face tints with pink. "That's different."
"Really?"
He stops walking and you stop too, turning to face him. The moonlight that seeps from the window spills onto the angles of his face, highlighting the face you've come to admire all these past years. "You're different. You know why."
There is it again—the altar, the pedestal. You're not sure if you deserve to be placed on it.
(But you're also not sure if you want to come down from a high place.)
You say nothing and tug on his hand this time as you lead him to your room, ignoring the reverence in his words. You stop in front of your door and Okkotsu stands behind you like he's waiting to be dismissed.
"Okkotsu."
"Mm?"
"Why do you look at me like that?"
He has the audacity to blink and look confused. "Like what?"
You turn to face him, a deadpan expression on your face. Surely, he can't be this oblivious but you really don't want to be dealing with feelings at three in the morning when the person in front of you looks like he's going to pass out any second now.
"Never mind." You pull him down by the collar to your height and stare at all his pathetic, mighty glory. Okkotsu's eyes widen but he leans in closer.
He breathes your name as if it's something unspeakable.
You seal your lips with his.
Okkotsu makes a broken sound against your mouth and his hands find your waist immediately, gripping the fabric of your sleep shirt. His grasp is secure (you're the only thing keeping him from drowning yet he drowns into you). He guides you backward until your back hits the door, and the impact makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
His lips are chapped from the mission, no doubt from the cold wind, but they're so soft, they're so eager. He kisses you like he's terrified this will be the last time, he kisses you like he's trying to memorize what you feel against his lips, he kisses you like he's trying to fuse you two in one soul. (Maybe he is.)
Your fingers thread through the tresses of his dark hair and tug lightly. He says your name into your mouth and you feel his hands slide from your waist to your lower back, trying to eliminate every atom in existence that puts a distance between him and you.
One of your hands stays in his hair while the other traces the line of his jaw and he leans into the touch. Your mouth trails from his lips to the corner of his jaw and you feel him shudder against you. He gasps, murmuring your name as his head falls back to give you more access.
You pepper kisses against his pulse point and you feel it jump beneath your mouth before you bite on his pretty neck and he whines. Actually whines. The sound goes straight to you.
But you're both standing in the middle of the hallway and anyone could walk by and you know if Gojo-sensei would ever find out about this, the white haired nuisance won't let it go. You reluctantly pull back and the sight of Okkotsu is something you want burned into your retinas.
His dark hair is mussed from your fingers. His lips are swollen and slick with the spit you two just shared. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that trails all the way down to his neck. His eyes are half-lidded, dazed and looking at you like you're the answer in every prayer he has sent (to him, you are).
"You should rest," you say, voice steady despite the rendezvous you two just shared. "You just got back from a mission."
"I don't want to leave yet." His hands are still on your lower back, fingers slipping under your shirt to trace mindless patterns on your back. "Can I stay a little longer? Please?" His voice is a plea, a beg.
Really, you should say no. A good person would have told him to go back to his room and sleep and to take care of himself. That's what a good person should do.
But you're not a good person. Not really.
"Five minutes," you concede and his face lights up like you've gifted him the world.
He presses a kiss to your forehead and his lips linger there, his cursed energy settles into something akin to a weighted blanket wrapping around you like a second skin.
"Thank you," he whispers against your skin.
You don't know what he's thanking you for. The kiss? The five minutes? Existing? Knowing Okkotsu Yuta, it's probably all three. Without thinking, you unlock your door behind you and lead him inside not before connecting your lips with his sweet ones.
Okkotsu is sweet. Like cake fluffing itself inside your mouth, sugar dissolving in your tongue, the honey to a bear.
But there's only so much sweetness you can handle before you get sick of it.
The next morning, you find yourself in a three-way with Megumi and Maki.
Not like that.
It's more like getting your ass handed to you.
Maki's katana almost slices your ear off but you manage to duck and immediately have to narrowly avoid the shadow portal Megumi has summoned on the ground specifically for you. Megumi summons Rabbit Escape and you have to lead them back into the shadow he made before you get toppled over by a bunch of furry animals. Oh, you're so killing that asshat.
"You're getting sloppy, Yumeno!" Maki barks, spinning her katana for another strike.
"You try dodging a shikigami and a cursed tool at the same time," you mutter but you're grinning as you dodge another attack, the katana only grazing your cheek this time before you push Maki's solar plexus.
Megumi forms a hand sign. "Divine Dog: Totality."
"Megumi Fushiguro, you fucker—"
The dog (if you can even call it that) appears and growls before lunging at you and you have no choice but to run. Maki uses the distraction to grab you by the arm and slam you on the ground, the katana's tip pointed at your throat. The beast retreats back into the shadows, and you groan.
"Yield," Maki says.
"I yield." You laugh as she removes the katana and you sit up, glaring at the sea-urchin. "You traitor. I taught you how to skip stones and this is how you repay me?"
He quirks an eyebrow. "You also threw me into a koi pond to see if I could summon my shikigami from drowning."
"Excuses, excuses. Show some respect for your upperclassmen."
Maki snorts, offering a hand. You take it, letting her pull you up before the three of you call it a truce. Megumi hands you a water bottle and you take it with a small bump on the shoulder. The morning sun spins happily and the cicadas have started their song.
"You were distracted," Maki says suddenly to you just as you were chugging down your water.
"I wasn't."
"You yielded. That usually doesn't happen."
"Well, it happened," you say, rolling your neck. "Besides, I didn't have a good sleep."
Maki hums, unconvinced but drops it. Megumi frowns and hands you a protein bar he had in his pocket. You smile at the younger boy and take it.
"You should take a nap before the briefing," he says. "Gojo will talk for hours before we can even know what we're dealing with."
"Jeez, for someone who is so stuck up his own ass all the time, you worry too much."
"I'm just—"
"I'm fine, Megumi.
He doesn't push and sighs. You grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze to reassure him. Maki sends Megumi to grab some towels from the nearby storage shed and it's just the two of you. She drinks her water, staring off into the distance with her sharp eyes. Maki has always been direct and impossible to bullshit. It's one of the many things you respect about her and it's also what makes conversations, sometimes, so tedious.
"So," she says, finally. "You and Yuta."
It's not really a question. Not when Maki knows the answer, but you humor your friend anyway. "What about him?"
"I saw him leave your room this morning."
Ah. Well, five minutes turned into five more and then another five more until you had to shove the special grade sorcerer out of your room. Maki's always been an early riser so of course she would've seen Okkotsu stumbling out of your door with mussed hair, a rumpled uniform and that stupid lovesick expression on his face.
"What about it?"
Her jaw tightens. It's not visible to most people but you've known her long enough to see her tiny tells.
"Are you dating?" she asks bluntly.
Straight to the point. That's the Maki you know and love.
You consider the question. Are you and Okkotsu dating? You let him kiss his whole life into your doorways and press his devotion against your skin. But dating implies something mutual. Something, dare you say, equal. But you're not sure if you're ready to give all of yourself to him just like how he readily handed his to you.
"No," you say, voice bored. "We're not. We're just friends."
Maki blinks, caught off-guard by your reply but then again you're not exactly a conventional person. "Friends. Right."
"We're not that close, Maki."
"You know how he feels about you," she says slowly. "Everyone knows."
"Okkotsu feels a lot of things," you laugh softly. "Look how he cursed his childhood friend. Besides, his feelings are not my responsibility."
(Another lie. Or maybe it's the only truth you've said to Maki today. You're not really sure. All you know is that Yuta Okkotsu loves you like a drowning man loves air, and you're standing on the shore watching him struggle, occasionally letting him breathe just to keep him alive.
It's cruel. You know it's cruel.)
Maki is quiet for a long moment before she nods, voice carefully steady. "I see."
You're not blind. You've seen the way Maki looks at Okkotsu like he's precious. She gets softer around him—sure, it's wrapped around her signature stiffness but you and the other fourth-years can detect it. You've seen the way she speaks around him—in a tone that goes beyond the simple border of friendship.
(And, yet, here you are, holding Okkotsu's heart in your hands, squeezing just hard enough to bruise. It's not your fault. He's the one who handed it to you on a silver platter.)
"I found the towels," comes Megumi's voice and he emerges into your view with a stack of towels. "Took longer because someone put it on the top shelf."
"That was probably Panda," Maki says.
You take a towel and press it in your face. The fabric smells like laundry detergent and o the times when you were just younger, before exorcising curses and the complexity that is your feelings. You push those thoughts away when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out to see a message from Gojo.
Gojo Satoru (DO NOT ANSWER!!): 🥰😍Don't forget! Mission briefing in twenty minutes! You AND Megumi! Come to my office! Don't be late or I'll tell everyone about the time you tripped and ate dog shit in front of a guy you found attractive. 💩💖💞
Megumi peers over your shoulder and you see the amusement settle into his pretty eyes when he reads your message.
"Don't laugh!" You put a hand on your hip and glare at the boy.
"I'm not."
"Sure, Megumi, and I haven't known you since we were kids."
A beat. Then, a barely perceptible twitch on the corner of his mouth. It's the closest thing to laughter you'll get from him in public, and you take it for what it is—he is yours in a way no one else is. Your best friend. Your shadow. The same idiot who called you by your surname for months just to piss you off because you spilled coffee on his favorite movie's CD.
"Well, I'll be going." Maki raises a hand. "Try not to let Gojo's idiocy affect you anymore, Yumeno."
"I'll try, my beautiful Maki-chan."
"Next time, I'll slice your head off."
"Aw, I love you too!"
She snorts. You laugh and bid the girl goodbye, watching her walk away. You catch the way her shoulders are just a little stiff, her grip on the katana a little too tight. Ah, you did that. You didn't really give her an honest conversation, but you really don't like talking about Okkotsu.
(He tastes like sugar on your tongue. The thing is you're not the only one tasting it, but unlike you, Maki would probably savor every last drop.)
Oh, well. You have more important matters to tend to. Such as Gojo's briefing. Despite the emojis he sent like the millennial that he is that made you not want to attend out of spite, you walk side-by-side with Megumi on the way to his office.
"Okkotsu-senpai was in the fourth year dorms last night," he says. "Itadori mentioned it."
"Megumi, he's a fourth year."
"Itadori said his cursed energy was all over the place."
"He was tired, he just got back from a mission. Cut the guy some slack."
Megumi looks at you and you turn to examine his face. There's a smudge of dirt on his cheek. You reach up and wipe it away with your thumb without thinking. He doesn't flinch or pull back. He just lets you, the same way you've always done since you were a bright-eyed kid making fun of his hair. He catches your hand briefly when it drops from his face.
You don't pull away and let your fingers intertwine with his. The two of you walk like that in silence for a few more steps until Gojo's office door is right in front of you and Megumi releases your hand, his indifference masking his softness.
Gojo Satoru is sprawled across his desk when you two enter. He claps his hands together when he sees you both. "There you are! You made me wait quite a while."
You and Megumi drop into a chair across from him and Gojo's blindfold crinkles with a smile as he looks between the two of you and the way Megumi doesn't shy away from the close proximity.
"Let's get straight to the point then," he says, tone a bit more serious but still have that happy-to-go-lucky undertone. "There is a cluster of curses detected in Saitama. It's grade two, maybe a little higher. I'm sending you both."
"Just us?" Megumi asks.
"Yep. You two work well together. And besides—" His grin turns teasing and you sigh. "—you're practically attached at the hip anyway. It'll be a breeze so I'm technically doing the world a favor."
You can feel Megumi roll his eyes without even looking at him.
"When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. I already arranged the transport. Nitta will be driving you," Gojo props his chin on the palm of his hand. "It should be quick, considering the caliber of your strength, but if anything goes wrong, you call me. Understood?"
You and Megumi nod. Just as you two stand up, Gojo calls out to you, voice uncharacteristically soft. "Yumeno. A word before you go?"
Megumi glances at you but you give him a smile and nod. He nods in return and slips out of the office and the door clicks shut behind him and you turn to face your teacher. Gojo pulls off his blindfold, revealing those blue eyes that seem to pierce into your very soul. He studies you for a moment, his head tilted to the side.
He says your name. "You know I love you like you're my own, right?"
"Yes. . .?" You're unsure where this is going.
"So, don't do anything reckless. Not with Yuta-kun, not with anyone else. You tend to take more than you can handle."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Sure you don't."
You hold his gaze for a moment, your expression remains unmoved. Gojo stares at you for a long beat and then he laughs—bright, genuine with a touch of sadness.
"You look like your mother. You had her stubbornness too," he says with a nostalgic smile. "Like nothing in the world could touch her."
"And look where that got her."
The silence that follows is heavy with many unsaid things before Gojo waves a hand, shooing you towards the door. "Go on, sweetheart. Go pack. Megumi is probably waiting outside for you."
You do as you're told but when your hand lands on the knob, you pause. "Satoru."
"Yes?"
"Thank you." You flash him a soft smile. "For . . . everything."
He smiles back. "Anything for you, honey."
You step into the hallway and, sure enough, Megumi is waiting for you, scrolling through his phone. His head snaps up when he hears the door open and waits for you to start walking before he follows.
"So, Saitama," he says after a moment of silence.
"It'll be a trip down memory lane. We could go to that Mini Stop again. I wonder if they still have that sando . . ."
Megumi says your name and he looks at you, his gaze lingering.
You skid to a stop and tilt your head. He sighs and tucks a hair behind your ear and you catch his hand. "What, Megumi?"
"Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow."
He turns down the corridor towards the third year dorms and you watch him go, frowning. Sure, Megumi is emotionally constipated and would rather have his organs removed than talk about his feelings but he was always open to you than he was with anybody in this school.
You sigh and head towards your room. It looks exactly like it did in the morning—bed unmade and curtains drawn. Your phone buzzes with messages but you turn it off and toss it on your bed and you start packing.
The morning brings a grey overcast. You lean by the car door, watching Megumi by the trunk double-checking his supplies, the same meticulous focus you've always seen him display during missions and when trying to win his way out of Monopoly (Megumi still doesn't know how you're the only one who can beat him in Monopoly). Nitta is in the driver's seat with the engine idle.
"You'll forget your own head one day," you tease.
"You'll be there to remind me," he says, not looking up.
"Sadly."
"How unfortunate for you."
You're about to shoot a response when you feel it—that recognizable overwhelming cursed energy that wraps around your shoulders like an eager dog greeting their owner. You don't need to turn around to know who it is but you do, not before telling Megumi to wait for you.
"Yumeno!"
You walk towards the voice and immediately Okkotsu materializes in front of you, earnest and bright. He's breathless, he did just return from another mission. His uniform is rumpled, katana strapped to his back, and dark strands of his hair clinging to his forehead.
"You're back," you say, a smile tugging on your lips. "Miss me that much?"
"I did." Always so honest, always so sweet. He's close enough that you can see the faint scar on his cheek. The tiredness in his eyes melt the moment they stumble upon you, parched he was. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure if you want him to touch you or not.
"You always come back so soon. Gojo's really working you to the bone, huh?"
"It's nothing special. Just a grade one." He waves a dismissive hand. "I heard you're going to Saitama with Fushiguro."
"Yep." You pop the p. "Just a small cluster of curses. Nothing we can't handle."
"I could come with you," he immediately offers, eager. "I just got back but I'm not really that tired, trust me. I could—"
"Okkotsu." You look at him, a ghost of a smile on your lips. "We'll be fine. It's grade two. You don't need to babysit me."
He hums, a hand reaching out to hold yours. "I just wanted to see you before I left."
So, so sweet.
"You're sweet, Okkotsu."
He gets red but his eyes are still on you. "I brought you something. From my mission. It's not much but I wanted to get it for you." He fumbles in his pockets, pulling out a small charm—an omamori, a token of protection, of luck and of thinking of you even when you're not here.
You take the omamori from his hand, fingers brushing and his breath catches in his throat before placing it inside your skirt pocket. "Thank you," you say. "It's cute."
An adoring smile tugs at the of his lips and he leans in. It's muscle memory at this point, the expectation of a kiss, the press of your lips against his, the oxygen he craves. You can practically taste the desperation that radiates from him, sweet and cloying.
You place your hand over his mouth and, expectedly, he freezes. His cursed energy stills.
"Ah, ah," you tut and shake your head, pushing his face back gently. "Nitta's waiting. We're on a schedule."
"Oh." His voice is muffled against your palm. You drop your hand and he stares at you with those wide and kicked, puppy-eyes. "Right. Sorry, I didn't mean too—"
You pat his cheek, once, twice. "Get some rest, Okkotsu. You look horrible."
"I just missed you." Like that explained everything (maybe it did, maybe it didn't).
"I know, Okkotsu, I know." That's the problem, isn't it?
You pull away and wave a goodbye before you make your way to the car. Megumi is now in the backseat, watching the whole exchange with his usual impassive expression. You settle down beside and shut the door.
"Let's go Nitta-san," you say. The car pulls away and through the window you can see Okkotsu standing in the pavement, his face a mix of desperation and adoration (they're so intertwined they might as well be one at this point). You watch him shrink away until the car makes a turn and he disappears.
You lean your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your temple. Megumi's hands find yours on the seat between you two and his fingers lace through yours. It's grounding, you think. (Okkotsu's hold is desperate, Megumi's is steady.)
You don't let go for the rest of the drive.
The ryokan is traditional. That's the only description you can give. It reminds you of those movies you've dragged Megumi and Tsumiki to watch with you and you just watched their expressions the whole time. It's located in the outskirts of the city, just an hour of driving before Kawagoe.
The curse activity had been concentrated in an abandoned shrine behind the ryokan but the trail had gone cold when you and Megumi had arrived. Nitta had advised waiting until morning to track it properly.
"We'll head out in the morning," Megumi says, setting down your bags in the corner of the room while you come out of the bathroom in pajamas. "The curse attacks when it's at night so we can catch it off guard during the day. We'll have visibility."
"Aww, look at yourself, Megumi," you coo as you plop down on the shikubuton, spreading your arms wide. "I remember when you're an angry kid who wouldn't talk to anyone."
"I talked to you."
"You ignored me for five months straight because I used '-chan' instead of '-kun'."
"You were annoying for those five months. You would never leave me alone."
"God forbid I want a new friend and Tsumiki-chan was always talking about how nice you are."
"I am nice. I just don't show it to you."
"You don't show it to anyone."
But there's a smile on your lips as you recount your past memories with Megumi and Tsumiki. You've known him and his sister ever since you were ten years old and Gojo had borrowed you from your clan to make "new friends" and you'd met a literal angel and devil. You pestered poor Megumi for months, mostly it was just to see him get angry and show emotion but, somewhere, somehow, you became one of his closest friends and he you.
You watch the sea urchin settle on the second shikubuton the owner had laid next to yours. He turns off the light and darkness swallows you both. It's quiet and the only light is from the spilled moonlight. The owls have made their hoots and you can hear the distant buzzing of the fireflies.
You should sleep but your mind seems to be running at fifteen hundred miles per second. You turn on your side to find Megumi already facing your direction, eyes closed.
"Farm Tomita is beautiful this time the year," you say, apropos of nothing. "Remember that place?
Another pause then quietly: "You wanted to go so you could get inspiration when you become a florist."
The words hit you in the chest. It feels like a lifetime ago. Just two little kids nestled under the blankets while you showed him magazines of the farm, the only light source the flashlight he had held so you could read the contents to him properly. Those memories are hazy but it brings a sense of happiness.
"I did," you laugh. "I wanted to open a flower shop and argue back at rude customers like how those people did in the movies."
"You'd tell them they have the wrong opinion and just ignore them until they left."
"Best customer service. Five out of five, truly."
The silence that follows is comfortable and Megumi's cursed energy wraps over you like a warm blanket a mother pulls up to their child's chin. It's comforting.
"Do you still want to?" he asks eventually. "Go to Hokkaido?"
"Yeah," you breathe out. "Lavender East is fucking beautiful. It looks like it goes on forever. Maybe I could move there after graduation and really become a florist."
"You want to leave the jujutsu world," he says and it's not a question. You chuckle, Megumi has always been able to read you. The statement could've been passed off as a joke, some distant dream, but you've never escaped Megumi's radar.
"I'm tired, Megumi," you whisper. "After everything happened and having to watch people die and seeing you like that—" Your breath shudders and Megumi's shoulders stiffen but he doesn't look away from you. "I don't think I want to do this anymore. I never really wanted to anyways, it was just my technique."
He falls silent and the rain that has been waiting in the grey overcast finally falls, a soft patter against the roof tiles, filling the quiet between you two.
"I support you." Megumi's voice is sincere. "Whatever you decide. You can always come back to me."
You smile, it's small but genuine. "You and Tsumiki-chan could come visit when I finally open a shop in Hokkaido. She'd like that place, wouldn't she? The clean air is good for her."
"Tsumiki would like anywhere you are." A pause. "So would I."
You feel your chest tighten with tacit emotions and you reach across the space between your mattresses and he meets you halfway, fingers curling around each other. His hand is calloused but gentle and warm.
"What about you?" you ask. "Do you want to leave?"
Megumi falls silent for a long moment and you can hear the rain more clearly again. "I don't really see a point in being a sorcerer," he admits. "I don't have any grand philosophy or whatever. I never have."
"You have Tsumiki-chan."
"I do." His grip tightens. "And I almost lost her, more than once. I don't want that to happen again. If being a sorcerer is what it takes to protect her, then that's what I'll do even if it lasts my whole life. There's nothing else for me."
"There could be," you say softly. "If you wanted."
"Maybe." He isn't entirely convinced. "But not yet."
You squeeze his hand. "Whatever you want, whatever you choose—I'll be on your side."
He looks at you and for a moment, you're just two children, whispering and giggling under the covers, talking about dreams way too big and way too out of reach for a world so bloody such as yours. You'd give everything to go back to those times.
"And Okkotsu-senpai?" Megumi asks and the change is so sudden it almost gives you whiplash. "What are you going to do about him if you leave?"
You groan. "Do we really have to talk about this now?"
"You brought up leaving."
"I brought up flower farms."
"And leaving." He looks at you with an expression that toes the line of being accusatory. "Well? What are you going to do?"
You wave your free hand in a vague manner. "I don't know. Break up with him, I guess?"
"I thought you weren't together."
"Right. Well, that makes my job easier. I don't need to do anything."
Megumi reaches over to pinch your side, also with his free hand.
"Ow—Megumi!"
"You're cruel."
"I'm realistic."
"You're cruel," he repeats but there's no anger or reprimand behind it. Just a reminder. "He's been smitten with you, according to the students in your grade, since first year. Everyone knows, even Gojo and that idiot is oblivious to everything that isn't about himself."
"Gojo knows everything. That's, like, his whole thing with the Six Eyes."
"Don't go changing the subject now."
You sigh, turning to lay down on your back. Your hands are still linked between your shikibutons. "What do you want me to say, Megumi? That I love him and I'm going to marry him and have two kids with him and a white picket fence? Because we're not Americans and you out of all people should know that's not who I am or what I want."
"I just don't want you to become the bad guy when you eventually hurt him."
"Don't worry, he'll survive."
"Will he?"
To be frank, you don't know if Yuta Okkotsu would survive you leaving. You don't know if he'd shatter to a thousand pieces or find someone else to kneel to. And the worst part, the cruel part is that you're not sure you care either way. (You do care. You care enough to hate yourself but not enough to throw away the feeling.)
The silence stretches between you two and Megumi's thumb starts to trace circles on the back of your hand.
You whisper his name. He whispers yours.
His eyes are half-lidded now, the exhaustion of the day (and the conversation you two shared) finally catching up to him. You watch his breathing even out, his grip loosening but never letting go.
You don't let go either. Fingers interlocked as the two of you drift off to other worlds.
The mission goes easier than expected. Megumi handles it with his shadows and shikigami and your technique delivers the finishing blow.
"That was anticlimactic," you say with a frown, watching the curse dissolve from thin wisps of air to eventually nothing. The birds have started singing their song now that the air is clear again.
"You're complaining about an easy mission?"
"It was boring." Megumi gives you an unimpressed look while you just shrug. You grab your phone and check the time. "Nitta won't be back for another two hours. Let's go somewhere."
"The Mini Stop?"
You smile. "The Mini Stop."
The Mini Stop hasn't changed when you two arrive. It's still tucked in the corner of a quiet street, a small distance away from Megumi's middle school. The automatic doors make a sound of distress when they open and the store still plays that pop song that you aren't sure if it's in Japanese or an entire made up language.
You grab two sandos and two sodas before Megumi could even say what he wanted. He sighs and pulls out his wallet.
"My treat," he grumbles.
"Megumi Fushiguro, are you actually being nice to me?"
"Be quiet."
You grin and drop the products onto the counter. Megumi pays and the two of you settle at a small and cramped table outside, just like years ago when Gojo dropped you off to socialize with the siblings but you just ended up talking with Tsumiki while her younger brother did homework in the background.
"I remember coming here to find you," you say as you unwrap your sandwich. "Only to find Tsumiki-chan and she would drag me to where you were beating the shit of those delinquents."
"I wasn't beating them up. I was just teaching them a lesson."
"Kind of the same thing. Let's not forget you sent three guys to the ER."
"They were picking on some kid."
"Ah, my knight in shining armor." You make kissy faces at him. "Defending the weak! How noble of you, my knight."
He gives you a flat look but his ears are pink. "Don't act like you didn't show up too. I thought you were going to get yourself killed."
"I just wanted to help!"
"You threw a shoe at one of them."
"It worked, didn't it? He was very confused."
"Your shoe didn't even reach him and he was confused because you were screaming the Sailor Moon theme song."
"I wanted to hype myself up!" But you're laughing at the memory. It's a good memory despite the blood and bruises. It's yours. Tucked away in the back of your mind, hoarded like precious treasure.
"Tsumiki-chan scolded us for that," you say with a wistful smile on your face. "Made us promise not to get into any fights. Until you broke it within, like, five days."
"He was calling you names."
"You really are my knight, Megumi!"
Megumi glares at you. He takes a bite of his sandwich and you finish the rest of yours, watching the occasional pedestrian pass by.
"Thanks for paying by the way," you say as the two of you finish the food and Megumi throws away the trash.
"I always pay."
"Because you're such a gentleman."
"Because you always "forget" your wallet."
"Details."
The ride back to Tokyo is quiet. Megumi dozes off somewhere in the twenty minute mark while you watch the Saitama landscape melt into Tokyo's suburbs. Nitta has the radio on a low volume, some announcers murmuring about the upcoming summer season.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Once. Twice. Thrice. You don't bother to check it. You already know who it is anyways.
The sun has started to descend when you arrive. Megumi stirs awake beside you, blinking his eyes awake with groggy confusion. You laugh at his expression. "We're baaackk."
"I can see that."
"Did you have a nice sleep, princess?"
If looks could kill, Megumi would probably be put on trial right now with Nitta as the unfortunate witness. You grin and slide out of the car. The two of you thank Nitta with a polite bow and a promise of a mission report filed tomorrow.
"I'll handle the report," Megumi says as the two of you ascend towards the torii gates. "You're terrible at paperwork."
"Gee thanks. I'm not that terrible, though, I just have better things to do."
"You wrote 'curse go boom' with a crude drawing on an entire mission summary once."
"Gojo accepted it."
"Gojo accepts anything you give him."
Well, shit. You can't argue with that. "Whatever. Go to sleep, Megumi. You look like shit."
"So do you."
"Not possible. I always look beautiful."
He deadpans and you giggle as the two of you make your way inside the school. He raises a hand in farewell before he heads off to the third year dorms while you make a beeline towards the communal kitchen. It seems to be calling out your name after all.
The kitchen light spills onto the dimly lit hallway and you hear voices before you even reach the doorway—Okkotsu's gentle laugh and Maki's voice. Okkotsu is speaking and you can hear the sheepish smile in his voice while Maki replies with that same cutting edge, though this time it's less sharp. Hm, must be Okkotsu's effect.
You pause just before the threshold, peering in through the gap the door offers. Their backs are to you and something delicious is cooking on the stove—something that smells like omurice, must be Okkotsu's doing. Maki says something that you can't quite hear and Okkotsu laughs.
There's an ease between, a comfort you can't quite rival. Maki's shoulders are relaxed and Okkotsu's cursed energy isn't all over the place, calm and steady (like Megumi's). You thought you would feel some sort of jealousy but you don't feel an ounce of anything—jealousy implies some sort of level of attachment but you don't think you've given that to Okkotsu yet.
Maki has been looking at Okkotsu differently since first year and he deserves someone who can match his vast devotion drop for drop, ocean for ocean. You're a lake at best. Maki is the damn Pacific.
You smile and leave the two alone in their conversation and what else is blooming between them. You head for the common room which is also kind of dark, save for the glow of a TV screen where some horror movie is playing. Panda is sitting on the floor and Inumaki is on the armrest of the couch with a bag of chips on his lap.
"Kelp," Inumaki greets, spotting you in the doorway while Panda waves his paw.
"Hey, hey," you greet back, draping yourself over Panda's back. "Is the main character going to make the worst decision yet?"
"Salmon."
"Damn. That bad?"
"Salmon, salmon."
Panda rumbles beneath you and you bury your face deeper into his fur. Despite being warm, he smells like sunshine and is also ridiculously soft, like a heated blanket that also happens to be sentient. "He's going to the basement," he narrates. "To 'investigate' a noise."
"Tuna mayo," Inumaki adds.
"Mustard leaf?" you offer and Inumaki's head swivels toward you with narrowed eyes.
"Bonito flakes. Bonito flakes."
"I'm pretty sure mustard leaf means "I'm very smart and I'm the best sorcerer in this room", actually."
"Bonito flakes!"
"See, he agrees," you tell Panda.
"I don't think that's what he's saying."
"You don't speak Inumaki."
"I've known him longer than you."
"Quality over quantity, Panda."
Inumaki shoves a chip into your mouth to shut you up and you accept it graciously, crunching loudly as the protagonist on the screen descends deeper into the basement like the absolute moron he is.
"Don't go any deeper!" you shout.
"Salmon!"
"He can't hear you," Panda points out.
"In spirit, in spirit. Oh my fuck, turn around—"
The three of you end up shouting curses at the main character and despite Inumaki's limited vocabulary, he's probably concocting the most devious swears in his head. By the time the main character trips over nothing while running from the killer, you're all in agreement that he had it coming.
"That's what you get for investigating 'strange noises'," Panda huffs.
"Salmon."
"Kelp, kelp," you say with a smile and Inumaki throws a chip at you which you catch with your mouth, munching happily at the free food promo you're getting. Maybe you should piss Inumaki off more. The door opens behind you three and you don't need to turn around to know who it is.
"There you are," Maki's voice says as she and Okkotsu make their way to where you are sitting. "We were wondering where you all went."
Okkotsu's voice is soft and borders on being reverent (a prayer, a hymn) as he says your name. You tilt your head to look at him and he's already staring at you with those big, earnest eyes. "You're back. How was the mission?"
"Easy," you say dismissively. "Megumi and I handled it in, like, forty minutes. While waiting for Nitta-san, we just ate some food. Megumi was judging my life choices, I think. He had this look to him . . ."
"Salmon."
"Thank you, my darling Inumaki, I do make excellent life choices."
"Bonito flakes."
"Way to make a girl happy."
Maki rolls her eyes and drops into the armchair near the couch, a smile tugging on the end of her lips. Okkotsu hovers for a moment, uncertain, before settling on the couch beside Panda, which is to say, beside you.
"Did you eat already?" he asks. "Maki-san and I made omurice and there's still some left if you want—"
"I'm good," you say and then because his face does that thing where his expression falls before he can catch himself, you add: "But I'll heat it up for tomorrow, yeah?"
The smile that breaks across his face is worth the lie. "Of course. I'll heat it up for you."
"Thanks, Okkotsu. That's sweet."
He flushes pink and Panda makes a gagging sound beneath you. "You two are disgusting," he says with a shake of his head and and you roll your eyes, burying yourself deeper into his fur. "It's worse than watching those romcoms."
"Salmon."
You flip Inumaki off and the room dissolves into laughter before Panda and Maki choose the next movie. Okkotsu's hand finds yours tentatively and you glance at him but he's already looking with an eager expression that is also part terror as if you might disappear if he blinks.
"Come here," he whispers and you laugh when he pulls you from Panda's back into his arms.
You land against his chest with a small oof and his arms wrap around you immediately like muscle memory. He's warm too but less like a heated blanket and more of a sunlight beaming through a window. His chin is on top of your head and you can hear his heartbeat, strong and so fast.
"I missed you," he murmurs into your hair, quiet enough that only you can hear.
"You saw me before I left."
"Still missed you."
You laugh and he smiles at the sound, nuzzling into you deeper. For a few moments, you let yourself stay here and be held. His cursed energy wraps around you once more and he smells like the omurice he was cooking and something that's just him. It's nice. It's comfortable.
Eventually, you pat his chest and remove yourself from his arms. "Alright, I'm beat."
"Already?" There's that kicked puppy look again.
"I'll see you tomorrow. Night, everyone." You pat his head and he opens his mouth but you're already walking away. You ruffle Panda's fur as you pass by him, flick Inumaki's forehead when he shoots you a pointed look and squeeze Maki's shoulder briefly where she squeezes your hand in return.
You're barely ten steps down the hallway to the dorms when you hear footsteps behind you. You sigh when you turn around. "Okkotsu."
"I just wanted to . . ." He catches up to you, out of breath like he just ran a marathon and rubs the back of his neck. "I wanted to walk you to your room."
"I'm halfway there. There's no need."
"I know, I just . . . " He trails off and you raise an eyebrow. "I didn't get to say a proper goodnight back there with everyone."
"And, pray tell, what constitutes a 'proper' goodnight?"
His ears turn pink and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath his white shirt. "I—just—you know—"
"No, I don't know. You'll have to show me, Okkotsu."
He says your name, a plea and a prayer wrapped in one.
"You should really be spending time with the others," you say walking into his space and his hands find your waist. Muscle memory. "They're gonna think you don't like them when you keep running off."
"I like them. I just like you more. Is that so bad?"
"Maybe. Probably. You can't say things like that though."
"Why not? It's true."
"A romantic, aren't you?"
"For you," he agrees and kisses you. When your fingers curl into his hair and pull him closer, he melts. His hands wander from your waist to your hips, to your spine, pulling you against him—always trying to eliminate even the smallest distance that separates him from you.
His lips move against yours with a desperation that borders on reverence. He makes sound when your tongue grazes his bottom lip. Your name leaves his mouth and he whispers them like a mantra.
He shudders when you tug gently on his hair and his grip tightens. He pulls away to trail down kisses from the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the spot underneath your ear that has your fingers digging into his scalp.
"What the fuck?"
You both freeze.
Kugisaki stands at the end of the hallway, her phone on one hand and a bag of chips on the other, staring at the two of you with a scandalized expression. "When the fuck did this happen?"
Okkotsu makes a noise that sounds like a dying animal and tries to pull away but his back hits the wall so he just ends up looking cornered. His face is so red it's hard to tell where the color begins and where it ends. His cursed energy is going crazy too—spasming all over the place.
"Kugisaki!" you say brightly, stepping away from Okkotsu with more composure. "I haven't seen you forever. How are you, my favorite underclassman?"
"Don't sweet talk me—are you two dating?"
You don't answer that question and cross the distance between you and pull the younger girl in a hug. She sputters against your shoulder but hugs you automatically—old habits die hard. "I missed you. Did you get taller? I think you got taller."
"I did not get taller and you're not answering the question—"
"Your skin looks good. New moisturizer?"
"Thanks, it's the one you recommended, but we are not changing the subje—"
"Great!" You release her and pat her head twice. "Let's catch up properly sometime, yeah? I'm exhausted. Saitama mission. Very tiring. Goodnight, Kugisaki."
"Goodn—hey! Senpai!"
But you're already walking away, grabbing Okkotsu's wrist and dragging him with you. He stumbles after you and you can hear Kugisaki's indignant sputtering as you finally stop in front of your door.
"I can't believe that just happened." He leans his head on your neck when you turn to look at him.
"It's not the end of the world. We just got caught making out."
"Yeah, but I don't really like getting interrupted."
"Wow, Okkotsu. How bold."
"I—" He buries his face deeper into your neck. "You know what I mean."
"I do." You pull his head away and cup his cheek, and he leans into the touch instantly, the tension melting away from his shoulders. "You're cute when embarrassed."
"Only when I'm embarrassed?"
"Don't push your luck."
He smiles and presses a kiss to your palm. "I love you," he says because of course he does (is that so bad? You suppose not).
You pull him down and kiss him, slow and deep, and his knees go weak and his cursed energy oozes like jazz. When you pull back, his pupils are dilated, lips slightly parted and he looks like he saw the pearly gates open just for him.
"Goodnight, Okkotsu." You push him away gently. "Spend time with the others. They're probably wondering where you are and what we're doing."
"One more?" he asks, so hopeful and so earnest that you roll your eyes and grant his wish of a peck on the lips.
"Now go."
He goes but he looks back at you three times with a smile that gets brighter than the last before he disappears when he turns the corner. Once he's out of sight, you slip into your room and close the door behind you.
Good God. You need a shower.
Yuta wouldn't really consider himself a jealous person. Jealousy is such a fickle thing and deities deserve nothing but grandiosity. But, alas, he is only a mere mortal so he is no exception to the green that coils around his chest, his lungs, his every fiber of his being when he sees you with Fushiguro.
He knows it's a sin. He shouldn't covet but what is there to covet? You aren't his. You bless him with your lips and descend your holy hands to touch his sullied skin, sure, but he has never heard the words that would tie you to him fall out of your mouth. But it's fine, he doesn't care for petty things such as labels.
Then again, he's reminded he's flesh and bones.
Fushiguro is a good kid—Yuta knows but do you really have to look at him like that? As far as anyone knows, you and Fushiguro knew each other before you both enrolled, taken under Gojo-sensei's wing. Ultimately, the question lingers—what does Fushiguro have that Yuta doesn't?
Silly question, human.
He has another life with you that Yuta doesn't have the access to. Key thrown away and only Fushiguro's robin can open the garden that only you and the black-haired third year can enter—filled with two kids hanging to each other for dear life. All Yuta has is the years tainted with curses, blood, wars, and seeing dear friends almost lose their lives.
Sullied, sullied, sullied.
But he's determined to change that. He can't change you but he can add more. More pleasant things, more delightful sights. He'll be your greatest offering.
"Furano?" Gojo-sensei hums, his blue eyes staring at Yuta with interest. "The curses there are around grade two to semi-grade one. I can send someone else other than you, Yuta-kun."
Yuta's expression doesn't waver. He keeps his posture straight and his hands tied behind his back. But beneath his ribs, his heart is pulling at its own strings—the thought of going to Furano . . .
"I'd like to go," he says, his voice a juxtaposition to how his cursed energy is swirling around the room. "Hokkaido has been seeing an influx of curses. They might be below my grade but hundreds of grade two curses still need the same attention as a single special grade. It would also be a good practice for adapting to unfamiliar terrain."
Gojo-sensei tilts his head and Yuta can feel the weight of his Six Eyes studying, peeling back the layers of his skin and bone to find blood cells singing your name.
"Adapting to unfamiliar terrain?" Gojo repeats, the corner of his mouth twitching with an amused smile. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Yuta can feel his ears turn warm but he holds his ground. "I'm not sure what you mean, sensei."
A laugh—loud and knowing. Gojo leans back in his chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. "Yuta-kun, Yuta-kun, you're a terrible liar sometimes," he chides, tapping a finger against his chin. "But I suppose it can't hurt. Hokkaido has been having a rise of curses in the past few weeks. The mission is direct enough and you're more than qualified." A pause. "And you want me to assign Yumeno as your partner?"
The sound of your name sends a ripple through Yuta's cursed energy but he reins it. "If possible. Her technique complements mine well."
"Is that so." His teacher's voice is light, teasing but carried with weight. "Yuta-kun, a piece of advice—free of charge." He leans forward. "There are some things even the strongest can't achieve by sheer force of will. Some rivers will only flow one way."
Yuta meets Gojo's blue eyes and he feels a bucket of cold water dump over him.
"I understand." Is the only response he can offer.
Gojo studies him for a long moment—Six Eyes prodding and poking at the molecules that make up his body before his grin returns. "Alright then! I'll assign you both to the mission. Can I ask why Furano, of all places?"
He thinks of the corridor—cursed energy concealed tight, something he had been practicing to last a full hour. He had seen you! And Fushiguro. Your phone shoved into his face and Fushiguro's eyes trained on the screen with the patience of someone who has endured this many times already.
"—and they go on forever! It's such a perfect purple."
Fushiguro's eyes traveled from the screen and you met his gaze easily, softness equal in all measures. "It's just flowers. You've shown me this before."
"Flowers?" You gasped, placing a hand on your hip with mock offense. "Just flowers, Fushiguro? You take that back. These are not just flowers, these are Lavandula angustifolia. They can reduce anxiety, you know—maybe you should roll around in them, might fix your shitty personality."
Fushiguro had rolled his eyes but then—a smile. A small, barely there smile but it reached his eyes and the irises glinted. "My personality is fine, thank you very much."
"That's still up for debate."
"I could just take you. Let's go after your graduation."
A ripple of shock had spread across your face. Your mouth opened, then closed. Your hand dropped to your side and for a single moment, you and Fushiguro were just staring at each other. Your defense, down. Invader? Damn Megumi Fushiguro.
"That's—" You faltered and your gaze skittered away from Fushiguro's, looking at your shoes. "You can't just say things like that, stupid."
"Like what?" Fushiguro's voice was calm. "I'm up for it. Let's go after your graduation. You wanted to, right? We'll bring Tsumiki too."
"You have responsibilities. You can't just drop everything to—to go look at flowers with me. You'll be a fourth year."
"I could drop it."
Yuta had seen the way you wouldn't meet Fushiguro's gaze, the way your beath came a fraction too fast, the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt. By all accounts, you were flustered.
"You're so annoying," you finally managed, reaching to meet his eyes. "I hope you know that."
"You've been reminding me for the past eight years."
"Well. Good. 'Cause it's true." You shoved your phone back into your pocket. "You better not complain the whole time we're there. I wanna see every field and try the lavender ice cream and everything!"
"When have I complained?"
"Megumi, sweet cheeks or whatever, let me remind you of Okinaw—"
Fushiguro pinched your side and you laughed loudly. "Fine, no complaining. But I'm not paying for anything."
"Deal." (A lie. Megumi always buys everything for you). You nudged his shoulder. "Thanks, by the way. For wanting to go with me."
"Someone has to," he said simply. "Might as well be me."
You laughed then and gave Megumi a soft smile before dragging him away, saying something about draining Gojo-sensei's wallet to the point of bankruptcy.
Yuta felt the green coiled tighter tighter around his lungs, threatening to cut his oxygen supply. The feeling had only intensified when he found the magazine in your room—you had stepped away to grab some food from the kitchen. It was open to a two-page spread. Farm Tomita and Lavender East. The fields stretched across the beautiful paper in shades of unreal purple and around the location, drawn in ink, were hearts.
He had traced one of those hearts with the tip of his finger, examining the way the ink had bled at the edges, the dates you had circled for the blooming season, the little notes you had written at the margin—open 8:30 AM–5:30 PM, try the lavender ice cream!!, take Megumi here :).
Ah. Even here, on the page of your private dreams, Fushiguro had a place.
Yuta had pulled his hand back as your footsteps had approached. When you re-entered, his greedy hands found their way back home to your waist and he had re-sealed his devotion onto your holy cavern.
Yuta blinks and the office swims back into focus. Gojo-sensei is still looking at him with those blue eyes with something that might be pity.
He is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want and there are gardens he will never enter, keys he will never have the privilege of possessing but he can pull strings, call favors, and arrange everything into the shape of your happiness. He can walk beside you through the fields of never-ending purple and watch as you stand in the place you've dreamed of.
Fushiguro can have the past but Yuta will give you the present and future, offered at your altar with trembling hands and a million prayers for you to accept it. (Let him be Abel—favored by his Lord.)
So, why Furano?
"Nothing in particular," Yuta says, smiling gently. "I just thought it might be nice."
Gojo hums, a sound that suggests he doesn't believe a word of it but he doesn't press for a more honest person. "Alright then. I'll put you both on the mission. Try not to make googly eyes at each other, Yuta-kun."
The teasing lilt in his teacher's voice has Yuta's ears turn pink but he bows politely and exits the office before Gojo-sensei could tease him any further.
The corridor is bathed in sunlight and Yuta thinks of your smile—the rain after a long drought. He'll bring alms to your shrine to keep it coming, to keep your eyes on him longer.
He is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want. He is mortal and mortals want. He wants everything you have to offer. He wants everything you can offer.
Yuta Okkotsu is mortal and he wants you.
The curse takes two hours to exorcise. And in those two hours, Yuta's eyes are always flickering back to you—are you hurt? Do you need his help? Do you need him? It's suffocating (but devotion has never been quiet).
He had to unleash Rika twice because some stupid curse thought it was fun to dangle you by its slimy appendages. Paired with his katana, it didn't take long until those appendages were just writhing masses on the ground.
(No one is worthy of touching a divinity but Yuta is your keeper and he will try his best to be deserving of such role).
"Okkotsu, I'm fine," you laugh and the sound is a siren song, charming the poor sailor Yuta Okkotsu (he'd fall into sea rocks for you).
His hands find your arm, trembling fingers pressing against the gash that flows from your elbow to your wrist. It's warm and it stains his skin—kisses his skin. (A blessing! A blessing! His heart sings. To have a god—your life force painting his palms. He wants to preserve it in amber, in resin.)
"You always say you're fine," he sighs, his reverse cursed technique flowing from his fingertips to kiss the hollow of your gash. The wound knits itself close, flesh becoming whole beneath his touch. A familiar ritual, he thinks. He has healed you so many times—even the smallest cuts don't escape his smothering.
"Because I am always fine." You poke the newly healed skin and then smile. "See? Good as new. You worry too much."
(He worries because you are worthy of worry. What follower would he be if he were not to clean your altar and make sure it's whole, pure? He worries because if something were to happen to you, the earth would stop spinning on its axis.)
Yuta offers a gentle smile. "Someone has to."
Fushiguro's words, spoken with such ease by someone who has a part of your heart he has no way of entering. ("Someone has to. Might as well be me.") Yuta feels the green rear its ugly head but he tucks it away, where it has made home in his heart where it bears witness to his worship (of you).
You're still breathing a little hard when you two make your way where the auxiliary manager is waiting with the car. There's a sheen of sweet glistening your skin like morning dew on marble (and he wants to press his mouth to your temple to taste the salt of your exertion—please, please, please).
"Okkotsu, I'm hungry," you announce, resting your head on your shoulder once you are seated inside. "Think they'll have good food at the airport?"
"Probably," he says. (He doesn't correct the use of his last name. He hoards every syllable, every drop of letters you grace him, a mere devout, even if the stairway to heaven happens increases in steps. Okkotsu, Okkotsu, Okkotsu. But you say it with a smile, and that is enough.)
The auxiliary manager starts the car and the vehicle roars to life. The manager drives away from the exorcism sight. Yuta watches you watch the landscape drift away to the suburbs and then the car makes a turn. And you frown.
"Wait," you say, sitting up as you press your face against the window. "The airport's the other way."
The auxiliary manager says nothing.
"We're not going to the airport," he says. "We're going to Nakafurano."
You turn to look at him and the surprise on your face is surreal. "Nakafurano? You mean—"
And here it is—the offering, the alms, the tithe, all arranged on your altar. (He thinks the sea of lavender and how he wants, no, needs to be the one standing beside you when you finally see them. No one else. Him.)
"Farm Tomita," Yuta confirms and he watches your surprise melt into shock, then wonder, then something radiant and all-consuming that Yuta's lungs collapse and start functioning again.
"No way. You're joking."
"I'm not."
"No but—"You turn to face him, hands on face and he leans into your touch in thanks. "How did you—I never told—Okkotsu, how did you know?"
He cannot tell you the truth. He cannot tell you that he overheard you and Fushiguro, making plans that didn't include him (selfish, greedy heart). He cannot tell you that he had looked through the magazine and had traced your doodles on a page about Farm Tomita. He cannot tell you that the sight of Megumi Fushiguro's name written in your inscription makes him want to carve his own name into your heart, into your bloody, beating heart.
He cannot tell you the whole truth so he shall give half instead. Half confessions are still confessions (he prays you'll forgive him of such sin. He is still a mortal with flesh).
"I saw the magazines in your room," he says instead. "There was a page about Farm Tomita and you had written about wanting to go in the corner so I thought you might want to see it . . ."
"Oh my god, Okkotsu." You laugh and your hands drop to cover your mouth. "This is insane. We're going to Farm Tomita with the lavender fields and the lavender ice cream?"
"Yes." And he can't himself (give the poor, greedy boy a chance) and he sneaks a kiss to your cheek and then eventually tickles you with kisses while you laugh happily. (The auxiliary manager averts their eyes and turns on the partition wall.)
"Megumi was supposed to bring me here after graduation," you say as Yuta rests his head against your neck. "We were going to bring his sister and everything."
The green roars to life and it tightens on his lungs. Fushiguro. It's always fucking Fushiguro. Even now, in this moment that's supposed to be between you and Yuta, the younger boy's name falls from your lips like honey so sweet (Yuta is supposed to be your sweet).
"I'm glad to see it before graduation though. And I'm glad—" You pause and for the first time he's known you, you look almost shy. "—I'm glad it's with you."
The green has been extinguished and his heart beats the tune of your name.
"Yeah?" His voice comes out rough (he needs your lips to cure his thirst).
"Yeah." You press a kiss to his forehead and turn back to the window, smiling. "Don't let it get to your head."
Too late.
Everything you say goes to his head, fills his lungs and floods his veins. He is drowning in you and he wants to reach the bottom and never be saved—air be damned.
The purple stretches in every direction, row after row of lavender swaying gentle in the breeze. The air dances with the scent of it, sweet and calming. Mount Tokachi rises in the distance, a silent witness to the offering of beauty sprawled at its feet. Tourists gasp and take pictures, the children laugh, but Yuta's eyes are trained on you.
You've gone quiet. The kind of quiet that his fingers start to fidget and he wonders if not consulting you beforehand was a mistake. You stand at the edge of the field, your back to him, and your shoulders are trembling.
Yuta calls out your name and he steps closer, panic already climbing up his throat. Did he do something wrong? Did he misread the magazine, the happiness in your voice, everything? "If you don't like it, we can leave. I'm sorry, I should have asked—"
You turn around and there are tears streaming down your face. His heart rips itself out from the inside out and stitches itself again before repeating the cycle.
"No, no, no." He closes the distance between you and his trembling hands cup your face. "What's wrong? We can go, we can leave right now, I'm so sorry, baby—"
You shake your head and through the years, you laugh. It's broken but it's the angels singing a choir.
"You didn't do anything wrong," you manage, voice hiccuping occasionally while Yuta continues to wipe the oncoming tears. "I'm not—I'm happy, Okkotsu. I'm so, so happy."
He stills, thumbs hovering your cheekbones. "Happy?"
You sniffle, nodding and pulling him into a hug, arms winding around his neck and your face pressed into his shoulder. Your tears soak the fabric of his uniform. Yuta's arms come around you instantly, caging you against his chest.
He holds you (like a chalice, a reliquary, like a goddess descending from her home in the heavens to give her devotee a gift and it's a gift he'll tuck away, protecting it with his life). His fingers threading your hair while his other hand presses flat against your spine, counting the bumps of your vertebrae—a prayer, a promise.
When you pull away, he wipes the tears away with his thumb while you laugh that song again and the tears spill over again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."
Each repeat is a nail in his coffin, a mark in his skin, a note in the psalm he will sing until his voice gives out. He would die hearing you thank him and he would rise again to hear it once more.
"Anything." A vow, a pledge. "Anything you want, anywhere you want to go—just tell me and I'll take you there."
You stare at him before smiling and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. (It's not on his lips, it's not a declaration but it's a kiss freely given and Yuta feels his knees go weak at the mercy you've bestowed upon him.)
You pull back and wipe your face with your sleeve and you take his hand, fingers slotting between his. Yuta stares at your joined hands, heart beating at such a ridiculous thing when his lips have met your chasm before, but you are holding hands with him.
(His manna from heaven, his burning bush, his water turning to wine.)
You tug him towards the sea of purple and he follows. The lavender swallows you both whole. Rows and rows of the lavender stretch towards the horizon and you walk through them like a deity observing how her devotees have treated the holy land you have blessed them with.
Your free hand reaches out to brush against the blooms and the petals release their fragrance as tribute, tainting the air with something sweet and clean. You tip your head and smile upon the sky, the sunlight painting your face in its warmth.
Yuta wants to die here.
He wants his bones to dissolve into the soil, to sink into earth and let it take root, to stretch towards the heavens and bloom purple. He wants to become the lavender that you brush your fingers against, to feel your touch on his corolla for the rest of eternity. He wants you to cup his bloom in your palms and inhale his scent, giving him a smile that would discard his need for the sun (your smile could rival the hot ball's miracles).
Let him be the flowers, let him the purple you love oh-so-much, let him be the field you have longed for years. Let him be anything, anything at all, as long as he is needed and he is something you reach for.
You let go of his hand and run towards the clusters of violet. The plants bow at your entrance and Yuta wants to kneel at your throne as long as he can gaze up at your divine form. He wants, wants, wants.
(He wants to taste the sweetness on your lips and the cold on your breath. He wants to press you into the nearest row of flowers and shower his worship with a medium that is his mouth until you forget every name that isn't his.
It won't be enough. It will never be enough. He is greedy, starving and he will always, always want more.
After all, he is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want.
After all, he is mortal. He is flesh and bone and yours.)
Lavender seems to be singing your name these days. Or you're the one singing it. Either way, you watch yourself thinking about Farm Tomita way too often these days—the hymns of the sprigs, the fragrance sweetly wafting in the air and the purple that spreads across the field. (Purple, purple, purple.)
Okkotsu is there—the hand on your waist, the lips on your skin, and the voice in your ear. A presence to remind you that memory is not yours alone, but he also has a hold of the reminiscences. He's not the center, you remind yourself. He has never been the center (that's the problem, isn't it? He kneels at his man-made altar and you have no choice but to watch from the clouds as he offers his worship).
Then you think of the lavender, and you think about the knot unraveling in your stomach and the way your shoulders dropped when you were blessed by the sight of the limitless purple. You think about the scent of flowers and how it loosened you a little—no copper tinging your nostrils, just sweet old Lavandula angustifolia. The sun had brought out your laugh and you want to laugh like that again.
You want to feel that way again. You want to feel that way always.
And then, in the dead of night, it hits you—eureka.
You sit up straight in your mattress that your head spins and you have to catch yourself for a moment. The word echoes in your skull like a door opening, a key turning in a lock—eureka, eureka, eureka.
You can't wait for graduation.
You don't have to wait for graduation.
It's terrifying. It's liberating. And it's the closest thing you felt that could measure up to Okkotsu's devotion. You can leave, you can enter Gojo's office and tell him you're finished and he'll listen and he might even expedite the process for you (because he's your father and he's always loved you like his own).
But there is always a first step to every plan.
And your first step is Megumi.
You dash out before you can rethink of your decision, bare feet padding against the cold wooden floor. Your heart is pounding a rhythm (eureka, eureka, eureka) when you reach the third years dorm areas and your fingers tremble as soon as you stop in front of Megumi's door.
You knock once, twice, thrice. But nothing. You knock harder and you hear a groan from inside, followed by a shuffle of footsteps. The door swings open and Megumi stands before you, a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants with his dark hair sticking up in different directions (a true sea urchin, you muse) and his eyes are narrowed with annoyance.
"It's three in the morning," he says flatly. "Someone better be dying."
"Morbid ass. No one's dying."
"Then go back to bed."
"I can't." You push past him and into his room without waiting for an invitation (when have you ever needed one?). It's sparse and neat, per usual, a few books stacked on his desk, uniform hung up for tomorrow, a picture of you, Tsumiki and him on his nightstand. (It's a comfort zone, a close second to your own dorm).
Megumi closes the door and leans against, crossing his arms as he quirkd an eyebrow at your frenzied state. "What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Or maybe I am the ghost." You spin around to face him with a smile that is too wide and too bright for three in the morning. "Megumi, I'm leaving."
His stare remains unreadable. "Leaving?"
"Yes, leaving, like, leaving. Like getting out. Graduating early." And the words stumble out, an explosion and a beginning. "I don't have to wait until March. Hell, I don't have to wait until December. I can be gone before autumn ends and Gojo can help me expedite it because holy shit he's Gojo Satoru and he can do anything—"
"You're serious?"
You pause at Megumi's words before nodding. "Dead serious. I was just, like, trying to sleep when it hit me and I realized I don't have to wait. I've been waiting for graduation like it's some magical door that will open and solve everything and let me but I can just knock on Gojo's door and ask him to do the same."
"Are you going to Hokkaido once you do?"
"Maybe. I don't know." You flop down on his bed, eyes on the ceiling. "Maybe I'll go somewhere else, see where I can find myself really, really belonging. You know, see what's out there before I decide to settle down by myself. What matters is—" You sit up, staring at the sea urchin. "—I'm going. Like I'm actually going."
Megumi studies your face for a long moment and you wonder what he's seeing—hesitation, fear, or a reason to let you stay. (Will he find it? You hope not.)
"Okay," he says after the long silence.
"Okay? That's it?"
"What do you want me to do?" He sighs and sits down next to you. "If I try to convince you to stay, that would never change your stubborn mind. And I told you, I support whatever you decide—if you want to go, go."
"You really want me to go?"
"If I told you to stay, would it work?"
"No."
"There's your answer." He leans forwards, resting his hands on his thighs. "You've always wanted to leave and I'm not going to be the one who holds you back."
You feel your chest tighten (and you don't know why. But his words settle into something warm in your chest. This is your Megumi—he'll look for an exit just for you even if the party is still running.)
"You'll miss me though, right?"
"No. I can finally have some peace and quiet."
"Just admit it." You bump your shoulder with his. "Would it really kill you to say that?"
He sighs and rolls his eyes in exasperation and then his voice turns soft. "I'll miss you."
You can feel your face heat up. "See. Was that so hard?"
"Yes."
You laugh and lean your head against his shoulder, letting his hand find yours, fingers intertwining (muscle memory, you think, muscle memory from doing this a thousand times before). His cursed energy settles onto your shoulders—steady, warm and everything you want to ground you.
"What about Okkotsu-senpai?"
Ah. The other shoe waiting to drop.
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"Yumeno."
"Fushiguro."
"You know he's going to be devastated, right?"
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
The truth is complicated—it's a mess of affection, guilt, selfishness and everything you don't know how to unpack. Yuta Okkotsu loves you like you're the very oxygen in his lungs and letting him drown in you because it feels good to be wanted like that.
(But do you want to be drowned in him?)
"I don't know," you admit. "But I can't stay just because he loves me. That won't be fair to either of us."
Megumi doesn't argue. You really are stubborn. All he offers is a gentle squeeze of your hand and lets the silence speak for him.
"I love you," you say suddenly, turning to face him fully.
(And you do. You love Megumi, heart leaping out for chest to sing your heartbeat to his—such a traitorous thing, but you love Megumi. Like the how the sky loves the clouds and stars, like how the ocean loves the moon, like how—)
"Me too," he says quietly.
(—you love your coffee black at three in the morning on your bed.)
You've barely slept.
Your mind was running in all directions, rehearsing what you were going to say to Gojo, too busy thinking about a life outside of this monstrous world that doesn't seem to out of reach anymore.
You don't knock when you enter Gojo's office. There he sits, devoid of the blindfold and writing over mission reports or whatever it is with a bored look. He must have come back from a mission.
"You're up early," he says, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously when you enter. "That means you want something."
You don't sit down. If you sit down, you'll lose your nerve. If you lose your nerve, you'll want to stay and you don't want to stay, you can't stay.
"I want to leave."
"Like go to the convenience store? Because I could really use some—"
"No. I want to leave, like, graduate early. Drop out or whatever you want to call it. I've been thinking about it for a long time and I don't want to wait until March anymore. I can leave now—open a shop somewhere far north, or south, I can start over, I can be happy."
The silence that follows is loud.
Gojo studies you before a smile spreads across his face. "Your mother had the same look in her eyes whenever she talked about her dreams."
"Did she get to live hers?"
"Some of them." He stands up and rounds the table before he's standing right in front of you. "But you will. I'll make sure of it."
"You'll really help me?"
"Of course. I'll expedite the paperwork, pull some strings, call in some favors, yadda, yadda." His grin turns into the same grin you've always known. "I am Gojo Satoru, after all."
You laugh and shake your head. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei."
"Don't thank me yet." He wrinkles his nose. "Yuta-kun is going to be heartbroken."
"He'll get over it. He has Maki." You smile. "They have each other."
Gojo hums, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You noticed that too, huh?"
"Hard not to. They're kind of obvious."
"And kind of oblivious, but they'll figure it out soon." He pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm proud of you even if it's being selfish. It's the hardest thing a good sorcerer can do."
You bury your face into his chest and your tears soak his clothes. (He's right, he's right—you're selfish and greedy and you want to be loved but you want to choose instead of doing what's expected from you.) When you pull back, Gojo's eyes are suspiciously shiny but he's smiling.
"Okay," he says, clapping his hands together. "Enough emotions. Let's talk about logistics. I'm thinking we can have you officially graduated by the end of the month, like, a week before November. It'll give you enough time to pack your things."
"End of the month?"
"Too soon?"
"No." Your smile could rival the shine in his blue eyes. "It's perfect."
Okkotsu is calm around Maki. His cursed energy never spikes, never explodes outward—it's just vast and wide but never suffocating (unless he wants it to). Okkotsu is calm around Maki. It reminds you of Megumi's cursed energy when the sea urchin is around you, a soft blanket and a cup of black coffee.
Okkotsu is calm around Maki and you like calm (so let Maki have him, you scream. You wonder if it might be some cruel joke or a misreading on fate's part that Yuta's compass was pointing towards you and not Maki.)
The kitchen is warm when you step inside and Okkotsu is there (of course he is). He leans against the counter, Maki beside him, and he laughs—open and easy. The laugh belongs to Maki (he belongs to Maki), she is his anchor, his mainstay (even if he doesn't know about it yet).
You watch them for a moment, unseen and cursed energy sealed tight. Okkotsu is listening earnestly to whatever Maki is saying, eyes soft and crinkled and smiling gently (this Okkotsu is not yours, and when has he ever been?). His cursed energy is an ocean at rest and Maki seems to float in it effortlessly.
He's so oblivious, you muse. Maki's gaze lingers on him for just a second too long, and her voice drops to a softer octave when she speaks to him (she's always softer around him. She's right there, the love of his life, and he can't even see it).
(Maybe that's not fair. Maybe Yuta Okkotsu sees what he exactly wants to see and what he wants to see is you. You don't know why when Maki is right there—steadfast, immovable, always abounding in his presence.
She wouldn't keep him at arm's length, unlike you. She wouldn't make him beg for scraps of attention, unlike you. She'd meet him ocean for ocean, unlike you.
Unlike you, Maki is the perfect balance for Okkotsu's sweetness. Unlike you, she doesn't like her coffee black.)
Maki glances up and spots you. Her eyes flicker with something you don't bother naming (she'll have him soon) before she expresses it into something neutral. "Yumeno," she says, raising a hand in greeting. "You're up early."
Okkotsu turns and his cursed energy spikes, a supernova wrapping around your shoulders, your waist, your throat. Desperate, hungry and so, so eager. His face lights up at the sight of you—the first sunrise after being plunged in darkness for so long.
He says your name, a prayer, a hymn, a litany.
"Okkotsu," you greet, stepping fully into the kitchen and letting your cursed energy free. "Maki. You two are up early."
"I was just looking for instant ramen," Maki says, shrugging. "And Yuta offered to make breakfast."
"Pancakes," Okkotsu adds. "Maki-san said she wanted something sweet."
(Sweet, sweet, sweet. He is so sweet. So unbearably, achingly sweet that it hurts your teeth. So sweet that it makes you wonder why you decided to take a taste.)
"Itadori-kun taught me a few things, he's a much better cook than I am," he continues, a hand sliding to your waist once you take a close look at the stove.
"He burnt the first batch," Maki says bluntly and you laugh (Maki's eyes crinkle when you do).
"I didn't mean to," he insists, resting his head on top of yours. "It's better now, I promise. Have a bite, please?"
"Sure." Why not? This will be the last time you'll let him pull you under his sweetness. This will be the last time you'll be the sun, orbiting around his sea of planets that look to you for sustenance. "I'll eat it."
His cursed energy pulses wth joy. Maki meets your eyes and you can the patience and wanting beneath her green gaze. (She'd be good for him. She is good for him. Okkotsu's quiet after the storm. Everything Okkotsu needs in his life—he's too busy orbiting around you to notice.)
"What are you thinking?" Maki's voice is low enough that Okkotsu doesn't hear.
"About how sweet he is," you say.
"What?"
"Okkotsu. He's sweet."
"I guess that's one way to put it."
"It is."
Maki's eyes linger on you for a while before she nods. "I'll be back. Save me some pancakes, lovebirds." You quirk an eyebrow at her need to depart but don't question. On the other hand, Okkotsu frowns and tries to make her stay but she doesn't budge.
She leaves and it's just you and him now. He sighs and looks at you with a small smile. "Well, I really didn't want Maki-san to leave but I don't mind spending more time with you."
You just kiss him and he melts (like candy on your tongue).
Eventually, the pancakes are plated, fluffy and golden and topped with a drizzle of syrup. Okkotsu takes a small slice of the fluff and holds it out, an eager expression on his face. "Try it," he says. "Tell me if it's okay."
You take a bite. The pancake is soft, sweet and the syrup sticks to your upper lip and it's good, really good and you tell him so.
"Really?" His smile shines at you with its brilliance. "I'm so glad. I was worried about the consistency. Itadori-kun said I should let the batter rest longer but Maki-san said it was fine and I really wasn't sure who to listen—"
"Okkotsu, it's perfect."
His rambling stops, eyes wide and attentive (and hanging to your every word like you're the next coming of a god).
"Really?" So full of hope.
"Really." And hope you shall give.
You take another bite and let the sweetness of the pancake coat the inside of your tongue and every single one of your senses. The syrup clings to your teeth, to your lips, to the roof of your mouth. It's cloying. It's perfect.
It's Yuta Okkotsu in edible form and you consume it with the same reverence he gives you on a daily basis. Okkotsu's barrel of sweetness is endless and wide but there's only so much you can take.
So, you savor your last fill.
The train station is buzzing despite the early hour. You're early, a light bag packed with just essentials. All your other things will be shipped later or donated or left to gather dust inside a cardboard box—a goodbye to a room you'll never sleep in again.
Megumi had offered to accompany you to the station. You had turned him down, you had done your goodbyes to him (and him only) after all, hugging his steady chest and savoring his scent of black coffee while your body racked with sobs. He hadn't cried but his grip on your shoulders just had been a little too firm.
"You'll call?" he'd asked.
"Yes after I get settled."
You'd pulled back and he had closed his eyes when you pressed a kiss against his—
"I love you," you whispered.
"I know, I know."
And that was enough. (It is enough. With Megumi, it will always be enough).
Now, you're on the train and watching the platform, the few stragglers rushing to catch the train lest they be left behind. The train engine hums to life after a few minutes of waiting and you watch the landscape blur from the suburbs to the countryside.
Your phone buzzes. You almost don't answer it—you already know who it is. You've been dreading this call ever since you've stepped on the train but you answer anyway because you owe him that much (because you're a coward but you're not that much of a coward).
"Hello?"
His voice cracks on your first name and the panic is evident in his tone, bleeding and open. "Where are you? I just got off from my mission and I bought you something but you—Fushiguro said you left but no one will tell me—"
"Okkotsu, I—"
"Where are you? Please tell me you're still here, are you at the school? Is this some kind of joke—"
"I'm not at the school."
The silence is filled with the static.
"What?" A whisper. "I—what? What do you mean you're not at the school?"
"I'm leaving."
"Leaving? No, no, baby—"
"I'm graduating early. I'm leaving this world behind. I'm—" You take a deep breath and anchor yourself. "I'm going to be happy, Okkotsu, and I'm going to find it somewhere else."
"But I thought—I—" His voice is wet, the start of the seams starting to be ripped apart. "I thought we were happy. You said—"
"I'm sorry, Okkotsu."
"Sorry?" He laughs, broken and hollow. "You're sorry? That's it? You're just—You're just leaving? You're leaving me?"
"Okkotsu—"
A sob on the other end cuts you off. You've seen him shed tears, seen him get too much into his feelings but you've never heard him cry like this. (Cruel, cruel, you are cruel. But you are also human.) You close your eyes. You can hear the others in the background, you can hear Maki in the background, trying to calm him down, trying to reach him.
But Yuta is inconsolable. His cursed energy is exploding outward again. You can almost feel it from here, the ocean's tsunami waves, desperate and drowning everyone in its midst.
"Where are you?" he asks, voice cracking on every syllable said. "Tell me, please. Please, please, baby, where are you? I'll come to you. Whatever you need, whatever you want. I—"
"Don't." Your voice is soft, a stack of feathers. "Please don't come after me."
His sobs fill the call's static. The sound is a sharp blade and it cuts through you (but you can always patch yourself up on your own). "I love you so much. Please don't leave me. Please. I'll do anything, anything. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it, I'll be it—"
"Okkotsu."
"Please, please, please—"
"You know I can't do that to you."
The countryside is beautiful, a contrast to the ugly happening on your small device. His breathing gets ragged and wet and you can hear the other's worried words in the background trying to calm him down.
"Do you even love me?" Oh, just stab yourself, would you? "Even a little? Or did I just imagine everything?"
"Come on, Okkotsu, you know the answer to that."
You hear a crash on the other end—something breaking, maybe a chair, maybe the wall, maybe his control. Gojo's voice—"Yuta-kun, you need to calm down."
But Okkotsu doesn't calm down. He is drowning and you're on the shore watching him as you cut the oxygen.
"Please," he begs. "Where are you going? Just tell me. I won't come, I promise. I need to know, please, I need to know you're okay, baby, please tell me—"
"I can't."
"You can't or you won't?"
"I won't." You feel the pressure behind your eyes starting to build. "Yuta, I have to go now."
"No, no, no, no—!"
"The view is beautiful. I could watch the sunset from here."
"Please, please—"
"I like you a lot." A sharp intake of breath. "I really do. And I wish—" You swallow the incoming tears. "I wish I could love you the way you loved me. I tried but I can't. I'm sorry."
The silence is loud, static filling it once more.
"Maybe in another life," you continue, an olive branch. "Maybe we'd meet in a coffee shop and you'd buy me a drink and we'd have something simple. But not in this life. Not in this one."
"Don't say that," he whispers. "Please don't say that. I—I can't—"
"Please don't look for me."
"Don't—"
"I'm sorry." And you are. You are selfish, you are greedy, you sucked every drop, but you're human and you are so, so sorry. "I really am."
His voice cracks on your name. "I love you—"
"Thank you for being so sweet to me, Yuta."
You end the call.
For a long moment, you just sit there with your phone tightly clutched in your hand, staring at the dark screen and your face staring back at you. Your thumb hovers the power button and you press it down.
You smile and you turn your gaze to the window. The countryside is a blur of green and blue. It's beautiful. You think of lavender fields stretching towards the heavens, the endless purple. You think of the way the flowers had felt against your fingers.
You think of Okkotsu.
He’s sweet, so sweet. Like candy that'll melt on your tongue, the peach juice on a hot summer day, the pollen to a bee. Simple, quick and reliving. He's sweet—so unbearably sweet that it hurts your teeth.
The problem is you've never really had much of a sweet tooth.
Synopsis: The argument on the training grounds was supposed to clear the air. Instead, it taught Yuuta the wrong lesson. Now his fear has found a quieter shape—softer hands, gentler words, and a loving grip you are too tired to fight against. w.c: 6.8k
Tags: gn! reader, angst, yandere yuuta (officially), reader and yuuta are still NOT dating (they're just close like that), possessive yuuta, controlling yuuta, unhealthy relationships dynamics, emotional manipulation (kinda) , yuuta is very self-aware, post-canon, kind of a character study? idfk what m doing, LOSS OF AUTONOMY!! canon-typical violence. READ PART 1 HERE!
A/N: I'm gonna be so honest, this was initially gonna be a one-shot, then yuuta grabbed my pen and yeah. i'm not entirely sure how I got here either, but he's not giving it back. sorry? maybe? THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SOFTER I PROMISE, LIKE COME ON I THOUGHT YUUTA AND READER RESOLVED IT!!! IM SO FRUSTRATED!! People really don't talk enough about how your characters don't listen to you anymore.
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The silence that followed stretched out, thin and fragile, vibrating with the leftover hum of Yuuta’s fluctuating cursed energy.
You stood there in the center of the training grounds, the sky above bleeding from a bruised purple into the deep, inky black of a starless night. The cicadas had resumed their deafening chorus, oblivious to the emotional wreckage standing in the dirt. Yuuta’s arms remained locked around your waist, his face still buried in the curve of your neck. He felt impossibly heavy, not just in physical weight, but in the sheer, crushing gravity of his existence. He anchored you to the spot, his breathing slow, jagged, and damp against your collarbone.
You didn't push him away. You couldn't. Instead, you let your hand drift from his jaw into the dark, unruly tangles of his hair. His strands were soft, damp with sweat at the nape of his neck, and as your fingers brushed against his scalp, a ragged, pathetic sound escaped him—a sound that broke your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces.
"Let's go inside," you whispered, your voice raspy from the dust and the shouting. "It's getting cold, Yuuta. Let's just go inside."
He didn't move immediately. He held onto you for three more long, agonizing heartbeats, as if committing the steady rhythm of your pulse to memory. When he finally pulled back, he didn't meet your eyes. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on your collar, his hands slowly unwinding from your waist but lingering, his fingertips brushing the fabric of your uniform as if terrified that breaking contact completely would cause you to shatter.
"Okay," he murmured. His voice was entirely devoid of the terrifying command it had held moments before. He sounded small.
He stooped down to retrieve his discarded wooden katana, his movements slow and mechanical. He didn't offer to take your staff; he simply fell into step beside you, hovering just a fraction too close. Shoulders brushing yours with every other step, a silent, desperate need for proximity. The walk back to the dormitories was suffocatingly quiet. The usual comfortable silence you shared had been replaced by a heavy, oppressive blanket of unspoken fears and unresolved grief.
You didn't go to your room. Yuuta guided you, with a hand hovering just behind the small of your back, straight toward the clan's medical wing. You didn't have the energy to argue. The adrenaline had completely faded, leaving behind the throbbing ache in your shoulder and the sharp, stinging burn of the scrapes on your forearms.
The infirmary was empty, bathed in harsh, sterile white light that made the dark circles beneath Yuuta’s eyes look even more pronounced. The smell of antiseptic and clean linen filled the air, a scent that usually made your stomach churn with memories of worse days, but right now, it just felt grounding.
"Sit," Yuuta instructed softly, gesturing to one of the examination tables.
You hopped up onto it, watching as he moved efficiently around the room. He didn't go for the standard first aid kit he had mentioned earlier. Instead, he walked over to the sink, turning on the warm water and grabbing a stack of clean gauze. He wet them, his movements precise and entirely focused.
When he stepped back into your personal space, the oppressive aura of his cursed energy had receded, pulled back behind his ribs and locked down tight. He was back to being the gentle, terrifyingly powerful boy you loved, but the cracks in his porcelain mask were still visible.
"Give me your arms," he requested, his tone not leaving room for refusal.
You extended your hands toward him. He took your wrists with a touch so light it felt like a ghost. He began to wipe away the dirt and dried blood from your palms and forearms with the damp gauze. His focus was absolute. He watched the skin clean up with an intensity that made you shift uncomfortably.
"It really doesn't hurt that much," you tried to offer, hoping to ease the deep frown etching lines into his forehead.
"I know," he replied softly, not looking up. "But dirt causes infection. Infections cause fevers. Fevers weaken the immune system."
"Yuuta, it's a scrape. I'm not going to die from a scraped arm."
He stopped. The wet gauze hovered an inch above your wrist. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the absolute, terrifying seriousness in them made the breath catch in your throat.
"I know," he repeated, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "But I cannot stand the sight of you bleeding. Even a little."
Before you could respond, a soft, familiar blue light began to emanate from his palms.
Reverse Cursed Technique.
"Yuuta, we talked about this," you sighed, trying to pull your hands back. "Don't waste your energy."
His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to make it entirely clear that you weren't going anywhere. "Please just let me do it. Why won't you help me feel better?" he said stubbornly.
The soothing, cool sensation of positive energy washed over your skin. The stinging stopped instantly. You watched, mesmerized despite your frustration, as the torn skin knit itself back together flawlessly. Within seconds, there wasn't even a pink scar left behind. The skin was smooth and untouched, as if you had never fallen at all.
He moved to your shoulder next, the one he had struck with his wooden sword. He gently pushed the collar of your uniform aside, his fingers brushing against your bare collarbone. His touch was cold, but the energy flowing from him was warm. The deep, throbbing bruise that had been forming instantly dissolved under his palm.
But he didn't pull his hand away when he was done.
He left his palm resting against your skin, his thumb resting against the pulse point at the base of your neck. He was staring at the flawless skin he had just restored, his expression unreadable.
"There," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "Perfect."
A psychological compulsion. He needed you unblemished. He needed the physical proof that he could fix whatever was broken, that he could undo the damage. It was a terrifying manifestation of his control, disguised as care.
"Thank you," you said softly, covering his hand with yours.
He blinked, seemingly pulled from a trance, and slowly withdrew his hand.
"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to deal with this," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the wound that had been there.
"Deal with what? A scrape?"
"Deal with me," he corrected, his voice so quiet it was almost lost to the hum of the air conditioner. "You shouldn't have to manage my panic attacks. You shouldn't have to let me bandage a minor cut just to keep me from spiraling. I’m suffocating you. I know I am."
You sighed, reaching out with your left hand to cup his cheek. His skin was pale, and he leaned heavily into your palm, closing his eyes.
"You're not suffocating me, Yuuta," you lied softly. It was a lie born of love. "But you still can't put my survival solely on your shoulders."
He opened his eyes, and the sheer intensity in them made you shiver. "Who else's shoulders should it be on? Yours?"
"I am stronger than you think," you insisted, holding his gaze. "I'm not a civilian. I can hold my ground."
"I know you can," he said, his thumb gently smoothing the skin of your shoulder.
He picked up the wet gauze again, moved on to your hands, taking your scraped palms in his. He cleaned the grit from your skin with the same agonizing care.
"I don't want you to be brave," he confessed, the ugly, raw truth bleeding out of him in the quiet of his room. "I want you to be safe. If I could, I would lock you in this room and never let you leave. I would build a barrier so thick that no curse, no sorcerer, and no higher-up could ever reach you. And I would stay outside it, and I would kill everything that even looked in your direction."
The words were monstrous, the words of someone whose love had mutated into a terrifying, possessive obsession.
But as you looked at him—at the tear tracks slipping silently down his pale cheeks, at the way his calloused hands trembled as he bandaged your palms, at the pitiful desperation radiating from his soul—you couldn't feel fear. You only felt a deep, overwhelming sorrow for him.
Once he was done, Yuuta brought your bandaged hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the palm of your left one.
"Are you hungry? I can make something."
"I'm just tired, Yuuta. I think I just want to sleep."
He nodded, a sharp, quick motion. "Okay. Let's go."
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
Your room in the dormitories was small, Spartan, and entirely familiar. By the time you had showered and changed into oversized sleepwear, the exhaustion had settled into your bones like lead. You climbed into bed, pulling the heavy duvet up to your chin.
Yuuta was standing in the doorway. He had changed out of his uniform into a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair still slightly damp from his own shower. He looked entirely worn out, standing there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, watching you.
"Are you going to your room?" you asked, already knowing the answer.
He shifted his weight. "Do you want me to?"
"I want you to sleep, Yuuta. Actually sleep."
"I sleep better when I'm here," he admitted quietly, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a click.
He walked over to the edge of your bed and sat down. The mattress dipped under his weight. He didn't immediately lie down; he just sat there, looking at your face in the dim light filtering through the window blinds.
"Come here," you mumbled, lifting the edge of the blanket.
He didn't hesitate. He slid under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. His body was warm, a stark contrast to his cold hands earlier. He buried his face in your hair, letting out a long, shuddering sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body. You rested your hand over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm against your palm.
For a long time, the only sound in the room was the quiet cadence of your shared breathing. You were drifting off, the edges of your consciousness blurring into the dark, when his voice broke the silence.
"I changed your mission logs," he whispered into the dark.
Your eyes snapped open. The drowsiness vanished, replaced by a sudden spike of ice-cold clarity. You didn't move, but your heart rate noticeably accelerated against his chest. He felt it, his arms tightening around you in response.
"What?" you asked, your voice barely audible.
"For next week," Yuuta continued, his tone entirely conversational, as if he were discussing the weather rather than admitting to a gross violation of regulations. "Ijichi was going to assign you to a Grade 2 curse investigation in Kyoto. The area is unstable. There's a high probability of unregistered Grade 1 curses in the vicinity."
"Yuuta..."
"So I intercepted the request," he said smoothly. The quaver that had been in his voice earlier was completely gone. In the dark, wrapped around you, he sounded terrifyingly calm. "I told Ijichi that you were still recovering from the cursed energy depletion you suffered last month. I told him I would take the assignment. I reassigned you to a surveillance mission in Saitama. It's a Grade 4 anomaly. Completely safe. You'll just be monitoring residuals."
You pushed against his chest, trying to put some space between you, but his arms were like steel cables. He didn't let you move an inch.
"You can't do that," you said, anger beginning to simmer beneath your shock. "You can't just interfere with my assignments. I need that experience. A Grade 2 is perfectly within my capabilities, and you know it."
"A grade 2 is," he agreed readily. "An unregistered Grade 1 is not."
"It was a probability, Yuuta! Not a certainty! That’s how this job works. We assess, we adapt—"
"I don't deal in probabilities when it comes to you," he interrupted softly. He shifted, lifting his head just enough to look down at you. In the shadows, his eyes were completely black, reflecting no light. "I deal in absolutes. And the only absolute I accept is that you come home safely."
"This is exactly what we were arguing about!" you hissed, struggling again. "You are suffocating me! I am a sorcerer! I am not some fragile glass doll you can keep on a shelf."
"I know you're not," he said, and the sadness in his voice was entirely disarming. He reached up, his hand tangling gently in your hair, holding the back of your head. "I know how strong you are. I see how hard you train. I see how brilliant you are in the field."
"Then why—"
"Because none of it matters if a curse gets a lucky hit," he said flatly. "Gojo-sensei was the strongest in the world. The absolute pinnacle of jujutsu. And he died because he let his guard down for one second."
The name hung in the air like a physical weight, crushing the breath out of your lungs. Yuuta’s grip in your hair tightened fractionally, a grounding gesture.
"If he can die," Yuuta whispered, his voice trembling slightly now, "if the strongest person I have ever known can be torn apart... then what hope do you have? What hope do any of us have?"
You stopped struggling. The anger drained away, leaving only that profound, aching sadness.
"I can't lose you," he repeated, the mantra he had been clinging to for months. "I won't. If I have to forge documents, if I have to threaten managers, if I have to take every single mission in Japan myself until my body gives out, I will do it. I will build a wall between you and anything that wants to hurt you. Do you understand?"
It wasn't a metaphor. You knew him well enough now to know he meant it literally. He would slaughter anything in his path to keep you safe. His love was a fortress, but the doors were locked from the outside.
"Yuuta..." you whispered, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. "You're going to burn yourself out."
He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. "You are my entire world," he corrected softly. "Everything else is just background noise. Let me do this. Please. Just let me keep you safe. I can't breathe when I know you're out there without me. I literally cannot breathe."
The desperation in his confession was paralyzing. How could you fight against a devotion that was entirely built on the foundation of his deepest, most agonizing traumas? You knew he wasn't doing this to control you out of malice or ego but out of his own terror.
You let your hand drop back to his chest, defeated. "Saitama," you murmured. "Just surveillance."
"Just surveillance," he confirmed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "I'll be back from Kyoto before you even finish filing the report. I promise."
You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You had won the argument on the training grounds, but you had lost the war in the dark.
"Go to sleep, Yuuta," you whispered.
"I love you," he murmured against your skin.
It was the first time Yuuta had said those three words to you. Was his love a vow? A threat? A prayer? You don't know. You didn't answer him, letting the silence swallow the words, but he didn't seem to mind. He just held you tighter, burying his face back in your hair, standing guard over your dreams while fighting the demons in his own.
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
Morning came with the harsh, unforgiving light of reality.
When you woke, Yuuta was already gone, the space beside you cold, though the indentation on the mattress remained. He had left a glass of water and a blister pack of mild painkillers on your nightstand—a silent, overbearing reminder of his care. You took the pills dry, the bitter taste settling heavily on your tongue, matching your mood perfectly.
You dressed in your uniform, the dark fabric feeling heavier than usual, and made your way to the headquarters, then towards the administrative wing. You needed to see Ijichi. You needed to fix this before Yuuta’s paranoia completely derailed your career and your autonomy.
The hallways were quiet, the usual hum of student activity subdued. You found Kiyotaka Ijichi standing near the courtyard entrance, looking incredibly stressed, a stack of manila folders clutched tightly to his chest. He was speaking in hushed, hurried tones to another auxiliary manager.
"Ijichi-san," you called out, approaching him.
He jumped slightly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he turned to face you. "Ah. Good morning. How are you feeling today? Okkotsu-kun mentioned you were still suffering from some residual fatigue."
You ground your teeth, forcing a polite smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Ijichi-san. In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The Kyoto assignment. I believe there was a miscommunication. I am cleared for duty."
Ijichi’s eyes darted nervously around the courtyard, as if expecting a curse to drop from the sky. "A miscommunication? I... I don't believe so. Okkotsu-kun was very clear. He explicitly requested the transfer. He said he had already discussed it with the higher-ups."
"He didn't discuss it with me," you stated, your voice hardening. "I am perfectly capable of handling a Grade 2. Please, switch the assignments back. I don't want the Saitama surveillance."
Ijichi opened his mouth to reply, but his gaze suddenly snapped to something behind you. The color completely drained from his face, leaving him looking sickly pale. His posture went rigid.
You didn't have to turn around to know who it was. The sudden drop in temperature and the heavy, suffocating pressure settling over the courtyard announced him before he even spoke.
"Is there a problem, Ijichi-san?"
Yuuta’s voice was smooth, polite, and completely devoid of warmth. He stepped up beside you, placing a hand lightly on the small of your back. The touch was gentle, but the grip of his fingers against your spine was a warning.
Ijichi swallowed hard, taking a half-step back. "N-No, Okkotsu-kun. No problem at all. We were just... clarifying the details of the Saitama assignment."
"Good," Yuuta said softly. He looked at you, his dark eyes unreadable. "Because the Kyoto assignment is already underway. I've sent the preliminary reports to headquarters."
"Yuuta," you warned, keeping your voice low. "Don't do this."
He didn't look at you. He kept his gaze fixed on Ijichi, a silent, terrifying pressure that made the poor manager visibly tremble. "There's nothing to do. The paperwork is filed. If you want to argue with headquarters about taking a grade 2 when a special grade has already claimed it, you are welcome to try. But they usually prefer the safer option."
He was manipulating the system flawlessly. The higher-ups wouldn't argue with Yuuta Okkotsu volunteering for a dangerous mission; they viewed him as their ultimate weapon. They certainly wouldn't pull him off a mission to send a lower-grade sorcerer into a potentially volatile situation. He had boxed you in completely.
"Excuse me," Ijichi squeaked, bowing hurriedly before practically sprinting down the hallway to escape the suffocating aura of Yuuta’s cursed energy.
You turned to Yuuta, shoving his hand off your back. "Are you out of your mind?" you hissed, anger finally bubbling over. "You just threatened a manager to keep me on a desk assignment!"
"I didn't threaten anyone," Yuuta replied calmly, though his eyes darkened at the loss of contact. "I just stated the facts. The paperwork is filed."
"You are crossing a line."
"I am keeping you alive," he shot back, his calm facade cracking just a fraction. He stepped closer, closing the distance you had just created. "I told you last night. I will do whatever it takes. You can hate me. You can yell at me. But you are going to Saitama, and you are going to come back without a scratch on you."
"And what if I just refuse to go? What if I walk out of here and go to Kyoto anyway?"
Yuuta went perfectly still. The air around him seemed to freeze, the atmospheric pressure dropping so drastically your ears popped. For a split second, you saw him twitch, but he composed himself pretty fast.
"You won't," he said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with an unnatural timber. "Because if you walk into Kyoto, I will level the entire ward before you even draw your weapon. I will exorcise every curse, destroy every building, and turn the ground to ash just to make sure nothing can touch you. Do you want me to do that? Do you want me to cause that kind of collateral damage?"
You stared at him, horrified. He wasn't bluffing. The terrifying realization washed over you that he would absolutely destroy a city block if he thought it was the only way to protect you. He had entirely decoupled his morality from anything other than your survival.
"You're sick," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Yuuta flinched. The terrifying look in his eye vanished instantly, sucked back into his core. Whatever entity that had possessed him was no longer there (or maybe Yuuta had always been like that), replaced by the broken, terrified boy you had held the night before. His eyes widened, a flash of agony crossing his features.
He looked down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly. "I know," he choked out. "I know I am. But I can't stop. Please... please don't look at me like that."
He reached out, catching your wrist before you could step away. His grip was entirely desperate.
"I'll compromise," he said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I'll compromise. You don't have to go to Saitama. I'll pull some strings. We can take a joint mission. A grade 1. Together. Just the two of us. I won't leave your side. You can fight, you can train, but I have to be there. Please. Just let me be there."
He was giving you a choice, but the reality was that you had none.
You looked at his desperate, wide eyes, at the way his chest was heaving with contained panic. You were exhausted. Fighting Yuuta was like fighting the ocean while drowning: overwhelming and ultimately futile.
"Fine," you whispered, dropping your gaze. "A joint mission."
Yuuta exhaled a long, shuddering breath, the relief washing over him so completely his knees nearly buckled. He pulled you into his chest, burying his face in your shoulder right over the spot he had healed the night before.
"Thank you," he breathed, pressing a desperate kiss to the collar of your uniform. "Thank you. I swear I'll let you handle it. I swear I'll just watch your back. Thank you."
You wrapped your arms around him slowly, staring blankly over his shoulder at the empty courtyard. You had your autonomy back, technically. But as he held you, his grip unyielding and completely encompassing, you realized that the cage hadn't been opened; he had just stepped inside it with you.
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
For three days, Yuuta was deployed to Kyoto to deal with a sudden outbreak of Grade 1 curses, on top of your past pending assignment. You had practically forced him into the car with Ijichi, promising him that you would stay on campus, that you would only train with Maki, and that you would text him every hour. He had hated leaving, looking back at you through the tinted window of the sedan like a man being sent to the gallows.
With him gone, you finally had a chance to breathe. The heavy, protective blanket of his Cursed Energy was lifted, and you felt like you could walk without someone analyzing your every footstep for potential danger.
You trained hard. You pushed yourself in sparring sessions with Maki until you were battered and bruised, but you felt sharp. You felt capable. You needed to prove to yourself, and to Yuuta, that you were not a glass doll.
On the morning of the fourth day, you received a mission from the higher-ups.
It was a solo assignment. A Grade 2 curse had taken root in an abandoned subway station on the outskirts of Tokyo. Several urban explorers had gone missing, and the residual energy signatures matched the criteria for a semi-intelligent, territory-based curse. It was perfectly within your capabilities.
You geared up in your dorm, securing your weapon to your back and slipping on your uniform jacket. You checked your phone. The last text from Yuuta was from twenty minutes ago, letting you know he was finishing up his final report in Kyoto and would be heading back to Tokyo soon.
You typed out a quick reply:
Glad you're coming back. I got a minor assignment in the city, should be done by the time you get to campus. See you tonight!
You hit send before you could overthink it, slipping the phone into your pocket. It was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. If you told him beforehand, he would have found a way to cancel it or send someone else.
You walked out to the front gates of the school, where an auxiliary manager's car was waiting. It was Nitta.
"Morning!" Nitta chirped, rolling down the window. "Ready to head out?"
"Ready," you nodded, opening the back door and sliding in.
"Great. We should make good time, traffic is—"
The front passenger door opened, cutting Nitta off.
The air pressure in the car instantly dropped. The familiar, oppressive weight of an immense, freezing Cursed Energy flooded the small space, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Yuuta slid into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut with a soft, decisive click.
He was wearing his white jacket, the fabric stained with a few dried flecks of blood from whatever he had been fighting in Kyoto. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes prominent, but his posture was completely rigid.
Nitta froze, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. "O-Okkotsu-senpai? I didn't know you were joining us."
"There was a change of plans," Yuuta said softly, not looking at her. He turned his head slowly, looking over the headrest to meet your eyes in the back seat. "I wrapped up early."
Your stomach dropped. You looked from his blank, dark eyes down to your phone in your pocket. He must have read your text, bypassed the Kyoto debriefing entirely, and used high-speed transit—or some illegal sorcerer speed—to intercept you before you could leave.
"Yuuta," you started, your voice tight with frustration. "This is a solo assignment. It's a Grade 2. You just spent three days fighting in Kyoto. You need to sleep."
"I can sleep in the car," he replied evenly, turning his body slightly so he could maintain eye contact. "I'm coming with you."
"No, you aren't. I need to do this on my own. You promised you would try to give me space."
"I gave you three days of space," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion, which was far scarier than if he had been yelling. "I think that's enough."
"Yuuta—"
"Nitta," Yuuta interrupted smoothly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Drive, please."
Nitta gulped loudly, she knew better than to argue with a Special Grade, especially one whose Cursed Energy was currently making the windows rattle slightly in their frames. "Y-Yes, sir."
The car shifted into gear and pulled away from the school.
You slumped back against the seat, glaring at the back of Yuuta’s head. He didn't say another word for the entire forty-minute drive. He simply sat there, his head leaning against the window, his eyes closed, though you knew he wasn't sleeping. His energy was wrapped around the car like a physical barrier, actively scanning the passing streets for threats.
When the car finally pulled up to the police tape blocking off the entrance to the abandoned subway station, you didn't wait for him to open the door. You shoved your way out, grabbing your weapon, and stormed past the barricade.
Yuuta was out of the car and matching your pace in seconds.
"Stop being angry," he murmured quietly as you descended the concrete stairs into the
The abandoned station in Tokyo smelled of rot and stagnant water.
"Stop treating me like an infant," you hissed back, clicking on a heavy-duty flashlight. The beam cut through the gloom, illuminating crumbling tile walls and debris-littered floors. The air smelled of stagnant water, rust, and the sickeningly sweet decay of cursed energy.
"It's a Grade 2 territory," Yuuta said, his eyes scanning the shadows. He wasn't even using a flashlight; his eyes had already adjusted. "It's unpredictable. They can set traps."
"I know what a Grade 2 is capable of, Yuuta. I've studied the briefs." You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face him. The darkness of the station pressed in around you. "If you are going to be here, you stay back. Do not intervene unless I ask you to. Do you understand?"
He looked at you, his face unreadable in the dim light. Finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod. "I will follow your lead."
"Good."
You turned back, gripping your staff tightly, and began to navigate the labyrinth of the old station. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of water dripping from the cracked ceiling and the crunch of glass under your boots.
You tracked the residual energy down to the lower platforms. The air grew colder, thicker. You could feel the malice in the atmosphere, a low, vibrating hum that made your teeth ache.
You stepped onto the main platform. The train tracks were submerged in a pool of dark, sludgy water.
Squish.
You stopped. The sound hadn't come from your boots.
From the ceiling above the tracks, a mass of shadows began to detach itself. It hit the platform with a wet, heavy thud. It was a grotesque amalgamation of urban decay—twisted metal, rotting garbage, and limbs that looked too long and too jointed to be human. Several eyes, glowing a sickly yellow, opened along its torso.
It let out a screech that sounded like grinding train brakes and lunged.
You didn't hesitate. You dropped the flashlight, letting it roll across the floor to illuminate the fight, and met the curse head-on. You ducked under a sweeping, razor-sharp limb, bringing your staff up in a brutal upper strike that caught the curse beneath its "chin." The impact shattered part of its armored plating, sending it staggering back.
You pressed the advantage. You moved fluidly, remembering the forms you had practiced. You didn't waste movement. You struck the joints, prioritizing speed over raw power, crippling the creature's mobility. You infused your weapon with Cursed Energy, each blow landing with a heavy, explosive crack.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuuta standing by the stairs. He was perfectly still, his hands in his pockets, watching you. His face was blank, but his eyes tracked your every movement with a terrifying, predatory focus. He was keeping his word. He wasn't interfering.
You spun, bringing the staff down in a crushing overhead blow that caved in the curse's skull. The creature shrieked, its body dissolving into black ash and evaporating into the damp air.
You stood there, breathing heavily, your chest heaving. You lowered your weapon, a rush of triumph flooding your veins. You had done it. Quickly, efficiently, without taking a single hit.
You turned to look at Yuuta, a small, victorious smile touching your lips. "See? I told you I could handle it."
Yuuta didn't smile back.
His eyes were wide, staring at a point directly above your head. The oppressive weight of his Cursed Energy, which had been simmering quietly, suddenly exploded outward with the force of a bomb.
"Move!" he screamed.
You didn't have time to look up.
A second curse—massive, silent, and radiating an energy that far exceeded Grade 2—dropped from the shadows directly above you. It was an ambush. The first curse had been bait.
A massive, clawed hand the size of a car slammed down.
You braced yourself, crossing your arms and pouring every ounce of Cursed Energy you had into reinforcing your body, preparing for an impact that you knew would break bones.
The impact never came.
Instead, a blur of white and a shockwave of displaced air knocked you off your feet. You hit the concrete hard, rolling to a stop near the edge of the platform.
You looked up, gasping for air.
Yuuta hadn't drawn his sword. He didn't need to.
His right hand was outstretched, palm open. The corrosive blast had hit his bare hand and simply... dissipated. Swallowed entirely by his overwhelming cursed energy.
The silence that followed was absolute.
The curse froze, its rudimentary instincts finally recognizing the apex predator standing before it. It began to scramble backward, its metallic limbs scraping frantically against the concrete, trying to escape.
"Yuuta..." you breathed, your body shaking from the impact.
He didn't look at you. His head was tilted slightly forward, his dark hair falling over his eyes. The temperature in the room plummeted. The shadows in the corners of the warehouse seemed to lengthen, stretching out toward him like physical entities.
"Yuuta, don't—"
He moved. He didn't run; he simply disappeared from his spot and reappeared directly in front of the curse. The speed was incomprehensible. It wasn't human.
He didn't use a technique. He didn't use a weapon. He reached out with his bare hands.
What followed was nothing short of an execution.
Yuuta grabbed one of the curse's metallic limbs and ripped it cleanly from its socket with a sickening crunch. The curse screamed, a horrific, grating noise, but Yuuta didn't even blink. He drove his fist into the creature's mass, the sheer force of his blow blowing a hole entirely through its body. Black blood and viscera painted the walls, raining down on the concrete.
He tore it apart. Piece by piece. He dismantled it with a cold, terrifying fury that bordered on psychotic. He didn't stop when the core shattered. He didn't stop when the curse stopped moving. He continued to tear at the fading mass until there was absolutely nothing left but a smear of black ash and residual energy.
You lay there, frozen, your heart hammering against your ribs. You had seen Yuuta fight before. You had seen him kill. But you had never seen him like this. This wasn't the efficient, graceful lethality you had admired on the training grounds. This was wrath, wrath aimed at anything that dared to threaten you.
When it was over, Yuuta stood perfectly still amidst the wreckage. The station was completely silent save for the sound of his heavy breathing.
His white uniform was pristine. Not a single drop of blood had touched him, repelled by the barrier of his cursed energy.
Slowly, he turned around to face you.
The terrifying monster vanished. The oppressive aura evaporated. He looked at you, and his eyes were wide, soft, and filled with a desperate, cloying affection.
He walked toward you, his steps slow and measured. You couldn't move. You just watched him approach, your mind struggling to reconcile the slaughter you had just witnessed with the gentle boy standing in front of you.
Yuuta dropped to his knees beside you on the dirty concrete. His hands were shaking violently as they hovered over you, terrified to touch you, terrified of finding a wound.
He cupped your face in his hands. His palms were warm, entirely devoid of the horrific violence they had just enacted. His thumbs stroked your cheekbones with a reverence that felt almost holy.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of genuine concern. "Did I get there in time?"
"Yuuta, I'm fine," you whispered, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Your heart was pounding in your throat, but not from the curse. From him. "I'm okay. You caught it."
He didn't seem to hear you. He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you into his chest so hard it knocked the breath out of you. He buried his face in your hair, holding you with a crushing, desperate grip. You could feel him trembling, a full-body shudder that he couldn't control.
"I told you," he sobbed quietly into your neck, the sound tearing your heart in two. "I told you what would happen. You were right there. It was right above you. If I hadn't been here... if I had stayed in Kyoto..."
"But you were here," you said gently, wrapping your arms around his shaking back. You rubbed slow, soothing circles between his shoulder blades.
He opened his eyes, looking directly into yours. The depth of his obsession was laid bare in the dark pools of his irises. There was no apology in his gaze, only absolute certainty.
"I told you," he whispered again, pressing a soft, perfect kiss to your lips.
His hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks with a frantic, obsessive rhythm.
"I can't let you do this anymore," he said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm, deadpan whisper. The contrast between his shaking hands and his absolute, unwavering tone sent a chill down your spine. "I can't. I won't survive it."
"Yuuta, it was an ambush. That happens. It's part of the job—"
"No," he interrupted, his thumbs pressing slightly harder against your cheekbones, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. "There is no job. Not for you. Not anymore."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'll talk to the higher-ups," he continued, speaking rapidly, as if the plan was solidifying in his mind right in front of you. "I have enough leverage. I can pull strings. I'll have you permanently reassigned as my secondary. You'll only go on missions with me. Or better yet, I'll have you assigned to campus security. You won't ever have to leave the barrier."
"Yuuta, stop!" You grabbed his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from your face. "You can't do that! You can't just end my career because you got scared!"
He didn't let go. His grip on your face was unyielding, locking you in his gaze.
"It's not about your career," he whispered, a tear finally spilling over his lashes and tracking through the dust on his cheek. "It's about your life. I am not watching you die. I am not letting someone else take you from me. If I have to cage you to keep you breathing, I will do it without a second of hesitation."
"I don't want a cage," you pleaded, feeling the heavy, suffocating reality of his love closing in around you like the concrete walls of the subway station.
"I know," he said softly, leaning in until his lips brushed against your forehead. The kiss was burning hot against your skin. "I know you don't. And you can hate me for it. You can scream at me, you can fight me, you can resent me for the rest of your life."
He moved his lips down, pressing another desperate, bruising kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"But you will do it alive," he murmured against your skin. "You will hate me alive."
You stared at him, the fight draining out of you. You looked at the absolute, terrifying devotion in his eyes, a love so heavy and toxic it was slowly drowning both of you. You could fight the higher-ups, you could fight the curses, but in the face of his terrifying, all-consuming love, you were entirely powerless.
You let your hands fall from his wrists, your fingers tangling in the white fabric of his jacket.
"I've got you," he whispered, rocking you gently in the ruins of the station, the golden cage snapping shut around you. "I'll never let anything touch you again. I promise."
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, holding you tightly in the center of the slaughterhouse he had created just for you. And as you listened to the steady, calm beating of his heart, you realized with terrifying clarity that you would never truly fight another battle again. Yuuta Okkotsu had made sure of it. You were safe.
And you had never felt more trapped in your entire life.
yuuta's first experience with paranoia and jealousy.
cw: angst. insecurity. jealousy. gojo mentioned briefly. not proof read!
a/n: i lowkey wrote this instead of sleeping. i tried something new and idk if i like it. i might make a second part.
read on ao3 masterlist
the first time yuuta noticed it, you were asleep beside him.
moonlight spilled through the blinds of your dorm window, illuminating your face whilst soft music echoed quietly from your phones speaker. the room smelled faintly like rain and your laundry detergent.
yuuta should have been asleep too.
instead—he was staring at the ceiling with a familiar tightness in his chest—because your phone kept lighting up.
buzz.
buzz.
buzz.
he tried ignoring it—but after the fourth notification, his eyes drifted towards the screen automatically—and suddenly his thoughts spiralled somewhere ugly.
who keeps texting this late?
why didn’t you mention them?
why do they need you at 2 a.m.?
yuuta shut his eyes hard, trying to shut those thoughts out. he hated this feeling. he hated how jealousy crawled beneath his skin. he hated how quickly his mind jumped to conclusions.
paranoia.
that’s what gojo called it. "a side effect of caring too much." he had joked.
but this didn’t feel funny.
it felt suffocating.
you shifted in your sleep beside him, turning toward him subconsciously. your hand brushing against his arm, fingers curling around his shirt even in your sleep. your nose nuzzling against the underside of his jaw.
yuuta’s chest ached as he observed the peaceful expression on your face.
because you loved him. and all he could think about was whether you would stop one day.
like ermmm maybe he saw reader getting TOO comfortable to a guy, and he starts overthinking it 😭😭 eventually he asked reader about it and reader reassures him that she's 100% loyal to yuta :333 basically angst and fluff!!!
PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING YOU
𝒜 𝒯𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 - 𝒴.𝒪.
PAIRING: yuta okkotsu x fem! reader
Genre: one-shot, fluff, a bit of angst
Warnings: overthinking, jealousy, not proofread.
AN: I'm alive :D
idk yall I'm tired of making these picture headers
WC: 1.4k
Yuta never had an issue with anybody you hung out with. In fact, he actually encouraged you to meet new people, since it seemed like you kept your circles just a little too tight.
When you told him you had been invited to a party, he was actually relieved. This would be a great opportunity for you to get out of your comfort zone a bit. Not that Yuta was really one to talk, but he’d been more outgoing recently, and he wanted that for you as well.
One of your friends had invited you and whoever else you wanted to bring to a party she was throwing, and you accepted. It really wasn’t all that much like you to actually go, but she practically begged you to, so you couldn’t refuse.
It must’ve been making you nervous because Yuta had offered to accompany you. That took a lot of the pressure you’d been feeling right off your shoulders.
Walking into the party late, there were already so many people dancing around to the music. Some were very obviously smoking, drinking, or doing whatever else people do in those crowds.
Yuta stayed on you the entire time like a watch dog. He didn’t intend for it to come off as such, but judging by the atmosphere, and people he didn’t know, he preferred to stay next to you.
After around half an hour went by, you were talking with your friend after just having spotted her. She seemed so glad to see you, and Yuta really didn’t want to interrupt.
In the middle of your catch up session, Yuta excused himself to grab a drink from the kitchen. He offered to grab one for you as well, but you politely declined.
He didn’t mind the chaos in the background, as long as you were having fun he was fine. On his way back, he was all smiles.
It wasn’t until he actually spotted you that he began to feel weird.
Who was that guy? Yuta could have sworn he'd never seen him before, yet somehow it looked like you were all ears.
Nothing about it seemed to be outwardly strange, but it was the energy of how the conversation seemed to flow, at least to him.
Who would’ve thought Yuta Okkotsu could be jealous? After all, most people can’t name a time where he’s ever remotely expressed anything of the sorts. It just wasn’t in his nature. Though tonight, something was just different.
He made his way back over next to you, brushing his hand against yours. Yuta rolled his shoulders, standing to his full height with almost robotic-like posture. “Hey Angel, who’s this?” He was practically flexing his arms with every movement he took.
With a quick glance over your shoulder and seeing that he’d returned, your eyes lit up, turning back to the boy in front of you. “Right, sorry! This is my boyfriend, Yuta!” You were so enthusiastic, pulling on his arm and putting all the emphasis.
The only thought running through Yuta’s mind was that surely the guy took the hint. Now he got it right? Maybe he’d end the conversation there and go on with his day. But no. It seemed to only motivate him further.
The guy outstretched his hand towards Yuta, who returned it with a firm handshake. “Names Yuuji, nice to meet you man!” Itadori’s voice boomed over the loud music that played. Even still, Yuta could tell just by how naturally the volume of his voice stretched over the speakers, he was usually a loud person.
Everything Yuta wasn’t. Unlike Yuji, Yuta was soft spoken, rarely ever raising his voice. Was that why you were so enthusiastic? Did you want him to be more like that?
A tight line pulled on to Yuta’s lips, giving the boy in front of him a very brief nod. When he glanced back at you, he could tell you were none the wiser. Just as before, you went back to chatting up a storm.
The next hour Yuta stood behind you as your conversation with Yuuji flowed effortlessly. You were treating him exactly like you would Yuta, joking like you’d known him forever. And Yuta hated it.
He didn’t let it show though. Physically he was acting normal with his usual cadences and calm demeanor. But inside his head? He was losing it.
All he could imagine was you and this pink haired guy, who seemed to be such a charmer chatting it up all the way to the altar. Yuta wasn’t doubting you, never that. He trusted you fully. But he didn’t know this guy. And it almost felt like either Itadori was oblivious to how exactly he was coming off.
Throughout the drawn out talking session you and Yuji were engaged in, he was beating himself up. Yuta felt horrible about it, but he didn’t want to pull you away from conversing with this guy just because of his feelings, so he waited until you were done talking to pull you aside.
Yuta was staring at the cup in between his fingers, swishing the liquid around when you finally made your way over. You leaned over the kitchen counter with a smile so bright he almost forgot how late it was.
One touch of his fingers on yours had you meeting his gaze. Yuta fiddled with your fingers absentmindedly, almost as if holding onto whatever last bit of confidence he had.
“So..Yuuji?” He didn’t intend for his voice to crack, but it did. There was only so much he could handle.
You sighed, nodding your head and smiling. “Haven’t seen him in forever. We go way back, you know?” There was a lightness in your voice, and even after only talking, you were out of breath like you’d run a mile.
The only thing Yuta heard was that Yuuji was the love of your life. Scratch out whatever other possible scenarios he convinced himself were the truth because unfortunately he settled on this one.
So you were beyond confused when he put his cup down onto the counter next to him, running a hand down his face.
He tried to turn his head away to hide, but you stepped in front of him moving his hand away from his eyes. Wait– Was he crying?
A few tears poked at the corners of his eyes and you quickly rubbed them away, a panic on your face. "Yuta? What’s wrong?” You must’ve said something wrong or are missing a piece of your memory from the last five seconds because your boyfriend was rid to tears after just a few words from your lips.
Yuta lifted his head trying to contain himself, because he knew this was it. This was where you’d tell him that you’d found a better guy, who you must’ve been in love with from the past. “You can tell me if you like him, you know?” It hadn’t even been a second and he’d already given up, so defeated. If you wanted to leave he wouldn’t stop you.
With wide eyes and tear stained finger tips, you brought him back to reality. “Yuu, I love you okay? You’re the only one I want. He's an old friend.” You forgot just how sensitive Yuta could get, and when his thoughts ran wild, well, that was a mess waiting to happen. “Yuuji’s the boy from my middle school, the athletic boy a grade below me?”
You both laughed in sync, seeing as how ridiculous this was.
Now he remembers. It was when you both were discussing old friends you had throughout the years. That was months ago, though, and the conversation was completely forgotten in Yuta’s mind by now.
With a nod, he finally looked at you, the worry slowly began to fade from his face. He felt like an idiot for not remembering. But as always, you were understanding. “Maybe it’s just the stress of the party. Want to head out?” That was true. There were so many lights flashing and the music was so loud that you couldn’t even hear the sound of people splashing in the pool out back.
With one quick sip of his water, Yuta agreed. “Yeah.”
A telling smile pulled up your cheeks when you took your hand and guided him out of the open kitchen and through the crowd of sweaty bodies. “Let’s go say bye to Yuuji, yeah?”
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------All photographs, lyrics, quotes, are not mine, credits reserved to those individuals..
i rlly love the concept of Gojo’s wife!reader being in danger after Gojo is sealed bc his allies are all enemies now and first, the higher-ups want to harm her in general and second, the higher-ups don’t want her to give Gojo an heir. That would be a catastrophe.
The possibilities for angst are endless here:
Megumi taking a beating and being interrogated for info about wife!reader’s whereabouts and him refusing to give them anything bc wife!reader has always been the only normal person who gave the students some kind of affection. There’s no way he’s letting them touch her. He somehow ends up in Gojo’s bed and wife!reader tends his wounds with tears in her eyes but he just keeps apologizing for bleeding all over the expensive silks.
Or maybe they do manage to harm her and poor Yuji has to listen to her screams as she’s put back together by Ieri but he’s not allowed in the room, completely helpless. He falls asleep sobbing by the door cuz that’s his sensei’s pretty wife and he has to protect while sensei is sealed ! :(
The sorcerers collectively assigning Kashimo to be her bodyguard to make him useful. And he’s so awkward about it but she’s the beloved of the supposed Strongest, which intrigues him bc he had no idea strong people could have love like that. He asks her all kinds of questions and she answers so patiently, even though Kashimo is quite blunt.
Maybe she’s already pregnant but no one can find out bc that would put her + anyone who knows into so much danger without Gojo around. Unfortunately, Yuta is way too perceptive and thoughtful. He notices. Goes down a whole spiral about it. Is pretending not to see anything better?
Gojo being freed and absolutely livid if his wife was hurt. Like the news of his unsealing has some higher-ups taking cyanide pills to avoid whatever Gojo has planned as revenge. Him being super cold and tense on the outside but the moment wife!reader and him are alone, he’s dropping to his knees to apologize for getting himself locked up.
