Chapter Text
1)
The first time it happened, Yuuta was half out of his mind.
It was late, and the Special Grade sorcerer had just returned from a gruelling mission when he spotted a familiar presence, a cursed energy signature he could recognise even with his eyes closed.
When Yuuta got near, he instinctively wrapped an arm around his companion’s shoulder and nuzzled his prickly hair. “Megumi, how are you doing? Have you eaten?” he asked, his voice unbelievably fond.
The white noise around him - chatters of casual conversations - stopped abruptly.
The silence made Yuuta realise something was wrong. He opened his eyes to wide green eyes blinking back at him in shock and confusion.
Yuuta stared at the arm he’d put around the younger boy’s shoulder like he didn’t know how his limb got there. A furtive glance around revealed similar stunned expressions on the faces of Itadori-kun, Inumaki-kun and even Maki-san. Only Panda-kun looked gleeful, like he had new gossip to pounce on.
“S-sorry!” Yuuta stuttered and removed his offending arm from his kohai’s person straight away. “G-gojo-sensei, uh, that is-”
To his credit, Fushiguro-kun took it in stride. “I’m well, senpai,” he smiled kindly at Yuuta. “And I haven’t eaten. Shall we eat together?” He turned to Itadori-kun. “All of us?”
The pink-haired teen perked up. “Ooh, chicken-meatballs hotpot, yeah? I have the ingredients in my fridge-”
In his heart, Yuuta thanked Fushiguro-kun for not only shifting the attention away from his faux pas, but also restoring a joyous mood to the whole lot of them.
Fushiguro-kun was always so smart. He’d graduated middle-school as valedictorian; the speech he’d delivered during the ceremony was so fluent-
Yuuta paused.
…That wasn’t his memory.
(Whenever this happened, Yuuta tried to empty his mind.
It wasn’t right to pry.)
2)
Sometimes, the memories refuse to fade, though.
So Yuuta went to sleep with the phantom feel of Megumi-chan in his arms, and dreamed of images of soft, pretty smiles from soft, pretty green eyes, of trips to the zoo and grocery shopping and cooking together and watching movies together and helping with homework and holding hands as they walked together in the park-
Yuuta woke up and prayed hard that he wouldn’t fall for Fushiguro-kun.
(But his heart was treacherous, and it seemed like an impossible feat.
Like he was standing at the precipice of a cliff, and the only way to go was down. )
3)
Sometimes, when Meg-Fushiguro-kun wasn’t well, he disappeared.
(Actually, nobody was well after that… hell of a war.
Yuuta lost count of the number of times he had nightmares of dying, of losing himself to the cold, the sensation of Rika-chan’s small fingers slipping from his right hand, of waking up in a body that was too big too fair-skinned too overwhelming wrong wrong wrong- )
The first time it happened, Gojo-sensei knew where to find Fushiguro-kun. The second time as well. And the third, the fourth, the fifth… even if the places were always different…
The nth time, Gojo-sensei was asleep.
“Don’t wake him up,” Yuuta was adamant.
Gojo-sensei had been working himself into the ground since… that day. He’d accepted Gakuganji’s proposal to be the new Principal of Tokyo branch of the technical college [1], despite the open wounds Yuuta knew was still festering under the fragile veneer, the guilt he’d been carrying. He still fulfilled his duties as ‘the Strongest’ as much as possible. Even when he’d been having debilitating headaches for months now, and his body didn’t work the same way as before… before.
(...he died a second time.)
Yuuta knew, because he had them himself, sharp aches behind his eyeballs, throbbing head pains often accompanied by nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to light and sound. Sometimes, there was nothing Yuuta could do but lie in bed for half a day. RCT didn’t work because there was no physical wound, and Ieiri-sensei didn’t prescribe much pain meds because, well, getting addicted to them would just bring more problems, all sorts of them. Yuuta couldn’t imagine how much worse the pain would be with six eyes.
This was what happened when you rejected your own body once; it didn’t welcome you back fully.
But Sensei didn’t reject his own body; it was hijacked by Yuuta. It wasn’t fair that Sensei had to pay the price as well.
That was why Sensei should rest as much as he could.
“I’ll find Fushiguro-kun,” Yuuta promised.
Itadori-kun exchanged a glance with Maki-san and Inumaki-kun. A full blown conversation must have passed between them, because the silence went on for so long, before the pink-haired teen nodded reluctantly. “I’m counting on you, Okkotsu-senpai.”
Yuuta seldom went to Saitama, and he’d never been to the street he was walking down, but somehow, his feet knew where to go, which stairs to climb, which pavilion surrounded by what plants to head to, all without putting out feelers for Fushiguro-kun’s cursed energy.
Fushiguro-kun sat quietly on the wooden bench, dark eyes staring emptily at the night view of the city below the small hill, lights shining through the windows of low-rise office buildings and old apartments.
Yuuta sent out a quick message to the group chat before placing the blanket he’d brought around the younger teenage boy’s shoulders, and joining him at the other end of the bench.
Fushiguro-kun didn’t acknowledge his arrival, not even a twitch. He remained unmoving like a statue, his expression closed off like a Noh mask.
For the first thirty minutes, they just sat in silence.
Yuuta wasn’t going to tell his kohai that it wasn’t his fault, although it was the truth. Fushiguro-kun was never going to accept it, and it wouldn’t change anything about the aftermath; Tsumiki-san was still dead, and Gojo-sensei scarred and irreparably changed.
Still, Yuuta needed to try.
“Just after Rika-chan’s soul moved on, and I learned that it was me who had condemned her to be a vengeful cursed spirit.” His whisper sounded so harsh and loud in the absence of any other noise, but Yuuta ploughed on. “I started dreaming of the… victims. People who used to bully me and were ‘punished’. Only this time, they died, and it was my hands around their necks.” [2]
For a moment, Yuuta was lost in the terror, the guilt so tangible they nearly crushed him.
Pulling himself back to the present was as difficult as emerging from the surface of a muddy quicksand; a great deal of force was needed.
But this wasn’t for him, it was for Fushiguro-kun.
So, Yuuta continued. “Over time, my classmates began to notice how poorly I was sleeping, and they decided to bring their futons over to my room, and accompany me every night. They consoled me every time I woke up gasping. They were so good to me.”
Even now, his heart felt light with happiness at the memory of those nights. “And they rejected any notion that I didn’t deserve them.”
Yuuta didn’t look up so he didn’t know if Fushiguro-kun was listening, but something had shifted in the air. Yuuta would like to think that Fushiguro-kun had started paying attention.
“Time heals all wounds, they say, but it’s a lie. Grief doesn’t get smaller over time,” as Yuuta huffed, his breath turned white from how cold the temperature was. It felt like the cloudy sky could break open any time, and snow on them.
“Life grows around grief. And we have to let life grow… to overcome grief.”
After Yuuta shared his little story, he succumbed to the silence again, resolved to simply accompany Fushiguro-kun as long as he needed the space.
Yuuta’s eyes widened when cold fingers slipped between his, so tentatively, and curled around his own fingertips.
Like gratitude. Like an acknowledgement.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
Eventually, time flowed again, and they sat next to each other, not saying a word. But Yuuta knew Fushiguro-kun appreciated his companionship.
When golden rays started to pierce through the endless dark blue sky, Fushiguro-kun finally fell asleep, his head lolling to Yuuta’s shoulder. Yuuta waited until his kohai was deep in slumber before he pulled the thinner boy into his arms, and carried him home.
Gojo-sensei was standing below the Torii gate at the technical college, leaning casually on the red pillar. The tall man approached Yuuta as he reached the last step of the staircase, and carefully retrieved the precious cargo from Yuuta.
“Thank you, Yuuta,” his voice was incredibly tender. But he wasn’t looking in Yuuta’s direction, anyway. No, he only had eyes for the unconscious green-eyed boy in his arms, caressing his face with one hand.
“It was no problem.” Yuuta ducked his head and tried to avoid the sight of that zagged stitch on his teacher’s forehead. The familiar sight he could find on the mirror every morning. “If you would excuse me,” he stepped away as soon as possible.
(Little did Yuuta know, Gojo-sensei’s brilliant blue eyes followed Yuuta’s back as he walked away.
All the way. Until Yuuta was asleep in his own bed.)
TBC to
Sneak peek into 4):
Sometimes, Satoru remembered love so overflowing, he wept.
A/N: If you have enjoyed the chapter, just a little bit, please leave some kind words and kudos... they would really make my day. Thank you very much!