Huh? Yuuta freezes, forcing himself still, even if the tip is already pulling a slow trickle of blood, ready to thrust inside of Yuuji's body in one merciful push. “Itadori-kun… You know it'll hurt more.”
“I know.”
“But–”
“I want to feel it.”
The carnage, the blood, the ruins of Shibuya, if he can't atone for it, at least he wants to feel some of it. And maybe, maybe, someone like Yuuta gets it. Someone with his past, with the same destructive power in his hands.
The pause lasts too long for comfort till Yuuta agrees. “Okay,” His voice low, hand on Yuuji's shoulder, in case he struggles, in case the pain gets too much when he's not even halfway in. “It's okay, Itadori-kun… Just hold on to me,
"I'll go as slow as you like.”
(“That’s the plan? The whole plan is just my death?” Apparently, it was, and Yuuji had agreed to it quite easily. Offering himself, as if a sacrifice has a say in its own ritual.)
-
Yuuji can also see full well the whole length of the tanto, its sides glimmering with every crackle of the nearby fire. And Yuuta’s wrist, curiously delicate even after all the gruelling training to expertly handle a katana, lifts. Just as he promised, Yuuta lines up his hand, eyes focused on a particular spot on Yuuji’s chest. The grip on the knife handle tightened, the muscle in his forearm tensing up; it took more power to keep your hand steady than it is to let the force of a push finish the job in seconds.
No…
Can you do it slow?
The grip on Yuuji’s shoulder tightens, his thumb tracing the collarbone before settling on the base of Yuuji’s neck for a steadier grip.
It’s… Yuuta closes his eyes, breathing through the seconds that’s moving in a snail's pace, the tension thick as honey. Then… He pressed. Rather than jerking his elbow to maximise the damage, Yuuta keeps his hand steady, using his own weight as the center of motion. Keeping it slow… using a steady force, the knife creates the slightest tension against the thin layer of skin, the glimmering tip pressing down until he finally breaks through the taut skin. And as if a dam breaking, the slide that comes after becomes painfully facile, wet and slick from the blood that seeps out as the natural reaction of blood vessels bursting from being torn apart.
In the dead silence of ruined Tokyo night, the act itself feels audible, as if Yuuta can hear the slightest stretch of Yuuji’s skin before it inevitably snaps under the force of a sharp, unforgiving steel, as if he could hear the settling of the seeping blood on cotton that comes after.
He… isn’t quite sure why he did it. Maybe because Yuuji’s shaky breath broke the aforementioned silence, but Yuuta’s eyes wandered up despite avoiding all eye contact a minute ago. He sees Itadori Yuuji’s face, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as the blade slowly sinks in, moving with a lazy speed that can only be achieved by purposeful control.
Slow, remember, slow.
…
When Yuuta feels an expected bit of resistance as the blade hits muscle, he pushes in with a slightest bit more force. That, that little change in pace made Yuuji moan in pain.
Yuuji’s previously closed eyes part open, twitching, giving Yuuta full view of those clouded brown irises, the eye contact he was so earnestly avoiding now settled in place. From the edge of his vision, Yuuta sees a drop of sweat, bouncing the light from the campfire, descending and then disappearing into the collar of Yuuji’s shirt.
That moan turns into a hiss when Yuuta starts moving again. This time, when Yuuta pushes, Yuuji’s hand instinctively grips Yuuta’s wrist, a moment of primal weakness before he rips his hand off with a tired grunt. God, he looks so exhausted. See, Yuuta can do it, he can just thrust the rest of the knife in, plunge the length down to the hilt, ignoring Yuuji’s wishes, but… But he asked for it, he asked for this, this slowness and… And Yuuta is actively killing him, the least he can do is honour his wishes, no matter how painful it is to hear and to witness.
“Ugh…”
“Shh, I know…” I have to respect his wishes. Yuuji’s audible grunt made Yuuta hiss, his left hand trailing from his shoulder to his neck, his fingers rubbing the back of Yuuji’s cold nape in a hopeless attempt to comfort. Another grunt, quieter this time. “I know,” His voice nothing but a whisper, low, comforting. “I know it hurts… I know it’s excruciating, but… just a little more… Just a little deeper, okay? Ah…” Yuuta sighs out, guilt seizing his stomach when he sees the way Yuuji's face scrunches, teeth biting on his lower lip so hard that red trickles from the split skin.
He wants it slow.
And Yuuji hasn’t changed his tune; he didn’t ask Yuuta to go faster, deeper, to get it over with. No… No, he just takes it, he takes it so well even though Yuuta knows, he can see the pain clear in Yuuji’s eyes, how his breath staggers, hitches. His body twitching, his spine, ever so lightly curved back to get away from the penetration that keeps happening, as if unending.
Yuuta's lips, a breath away from Yuuji's ear, as if asking, he wants to ask him… Is this too much? Can you handle it? But instead, he asks,
“Am I going slow enough for you…?”
…
Yuuji’s fingers twitch, his hand lifts just the slightest bit, but then it falls back down, plopping next to him like a doll string being cut.
Yuuta is already going so slow, but then…
A breath, his pink, dying lips, one with the slightest brush of blood on the top parts and says…
“Slow…er.”
Slow– Slower…?
Yuuta actually gasps, his voice shudders, again, his breath puffing just an inch from Yuuji’s ear as if to ask him if he’s sure? If he really wants to feel this so badly… This knife, this pain, every, single, inch of it… ?
Okay, Yuuta wants to say, but the only voice that comes out is two cut-up noises. Unable to trust himself, Yuuta presses his forehead to Yuuji's side, nodding once before pulling back, hand still caressing Yuuji's nape.
The resistance comes again, Yuuta can feel the knife throbbing as Yuuji’s muscles twitch, feeling the painful, cold intruder in its folds. But Yuuta can feel it, he can see it, the length of his knife is halfway inside. In just an inch, maybe even half, he’s going to hit his heart.
Yuuji’s head lolls down, hanging by the neck, his ears dampening from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, something so clearly ignored. So, Yuuta leans closer, his fingers steady, holding to handle tighter, as if to prepare himself… “I’m so close, Itadori-kun…” It’s going to be over soon. “Just hold on a little longer, okay? Hold still for me…”
Then… He feels it, with another, featherlight push, the tip of his knife pressed on the violently beating heart which has been pumping so hard that it was the only noise Yuuji could hear.
Yuuta thrust the knife all the way inside, piercing through the pulsing organ.
…
The tsuba is pressed flush against Itadori's chest. He's in… he's really all the way in.
Yuuta never felt anything like this before. All the time, it was about ripping his katana out of his opponent's body, as fast and as hard as he could, inflicting as much damage as he pulled out, ripping apart the flesh around it, but this? This…
Feels… It feels so… raw. This deep and this still, Yuuta can feel the heavy drag of Yuuji's heart still beating, the blade ever so slightly, very, very lightly, nudges the blade up and down with every breath.
His eyes closed, this is it. Yuuta can’t think of anything else. Because he just pierced his heart, the moment he pulls this knife out, blood is going to pour out of him, and it will all be over.
Yuuji is turning pale, his head thumping against the concrete, rolling back against the crackling surface.
“Itadori-kun…?” No, he's not responding anymore. Yuuta's hand moves back to Yuuji’s shoulder to once again steady him as he grips the handle tighter, feeling his fingers turning clammy. “I'll pull it out now…”
And he pulls it out just as slowly as he thrust it in, it feels only right to do so. Yuuji’s body twitches for a while, his flesh tugging around the knife, pulling away the only thing stopping Yuuji’s blood from pouring out.
…And maybe it’s because Yuuta is just so close, but he feels Yuuji’s nose pressed on his neck, a last human act, the last of Yuuji’s breaths filled with his scent.
Yuuta’s eyes widen, his pupils trembling as Yuuji’s fingers, weak and cold, try and fail to hold onto his hand, dropping to his lap, tracing the side of his white shirt before turning still.
The knife finally slips out of Yuuji’s body, and Yuuta feels cold. The knife drops from his hand like it just turned to ash, clattering to the dusty floor.
He feels Yuuji’s body slumping, twitching, his mouth opening and closing, trying to draw breath from an organ that no longer works. The sound is haunting.
Yuuta’s hands, now hot compared to Yuuji’s pale skin, are holding his face, their eyes locked on each other for a fleeting second. Yuuta’s thumbs caress Yuuji’s cheeks as the stray tears that have been pooling on the sides finally drip down.
…
“Shh… Just close your eyes, Itadori-kun.” Because Yuuji is fighting it, as if asking for permission to let his pain, and his life, go. “Close your eyes… Yes, just like that. You’re doing good, you’re doing so good…” Even through the pain, Yuuta knows it will only take seconds now. Ten… Nine… “The hard part is over now. Shh… I got you, I got you…”
He can feel it, see it, anyone who has taken a life can. The way Yuuji's eyes still and the body turns to dead weight in Yuuta’s hand. And Yuuta? He holds Yuuji’s body steady, presses him back against the wall, and slowly, with hesitance that only lasts a second, steals a kiss from Yuuji’s still-warm lips, so softly, soft… It feels like he could’ve kissed the last of his breath away.
