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White, white bandage around Toge’s shoulder where his arm ought to be.
White, white is his face against the crispy bedsheets of the infirmary.
He looks naked without his scarf or his collar – he looks exposed when the seals of his cursed technique are not hidden from sight.
He looks dead, and Okkotsu Yuuta begs him to wake up.
It is frightening when Yuuta’s eyes, hollow and frenetic, turn towards Shoko and he screeches at her, hysterically, to heal him, to glue his arm back, to make it unhappen. Maki has to command Yuuta to calm down, Maki has to raise her voice, because Shoko simply stares back with the void expression of a professional who has seen death all too many times, and a lost limb seems like a small price to pay if you get away from the grip of a curse, especially if it is the legendary King of Curses.
But Toge wakes, he wakes, and Yuuta is next to him when this happens. His body is under the blanket, hidden from view. He wakes, and Yuuta watches him wince in pain as his brain processes the injury; then he sees how Toge’s face brightens when their eyes meet.
And Toge tries to sit up to greet Yuuta.
His arms move to push himself up.
His one arm moves to push himself up but pain shoots through his injured side and he loses balance when the limb he commanded is no longer there to support him. The blanket falls from his body, revealing the empty sleeve of his nightwear. Toge’s eyes widen. Yuuta knows, immediately and without fail, that he will always, always remember Toge’s horrified expression, even on his deathbed.
“Toge, Toge,” he cries for him in a tiny voice, but Toge doesn’t look at him, he can’t take his eyes off of his own shoulder, wrapped in the white bandage.
“Heal.” Cursed energy waves across the room, and Toge’s shoulder splits open, blood splattering on the walls, on the white, white sheets, and on Okkotsu Yuuta’s ashen face. The redness of Inumaki Toge’s blood washes over everything. Toge ordered his body to knit itself back to the way it had been and his body, incapable of doing that, suffers the backlash instead. This is what happens when cursed speech users utter words that do not work – no wonder Inumaki prefers onigiri ingredients.
Ieiri Shoko rolls her eyes when she reenters the room only to find Yuuta sobbing over Toge’s bleeding, unconscious body, but she starts working on Toge again without saying a word.
Toge is left-handed.
Toge was left-handed.
He is clumsy with his right hand now, struggling to use chopsticks. Because Shoko has enough on her plate with other injured students, she discharged Inumaki from the infirmary, asking Yuuta to take care of him before Yuuta’s next mission begins. Yuuta is grateful. The smell of medicine, the too much whiteness, the eerie silence – Yuuta feels sick there. Infirmaries are hell, even if surgeries at Jujutsu High are performed by cursed energy rather than physical tools. The shift to Toge’s cozy room is pleasant, and Toge himself looks more satisfied in his own safe haven.
“Tuna,” Toge whispers against Yuuta’s chest as they sit on the bed. Yuuta is next to Toge, arms wrapped tight around the armless torso, and he holds Toge’s right hand with his own, steadying his hold on the chopsticks as Toge eats the last bits of his dinner.
“No need to thank me,” Yuuta stutters with a chest heavy enough to hurt. He puts the empty plate on Toge’s nightstand, then turns back to him.
“Tuna mayo,” Toge specifies with an apologetic smile. This is not how I imagined our reunion.
“No,” Yuuta agrees and although he is still unbearably upset about Toge’s injury, he can’t help but return Toge’s smile. “I had entirely different ideas about being in your bed.”
Toge grins, no, smirks at him. The smirk reminds Yuuta of all those times when Toge would text him shameless comments about just how much he wanted him during the course of their long-distance relationship. Toge is brazen when it comes to the physical aspect of their relationship. He sees their relationship as fun and exciting, thus grounding Yuuta, the idealistic, innocent Yuuta, who can primarily express his feelings through self-sacrifice, utmost loyalty, and adoration with a slightly possessive slant.
The smirk anchors Yuuta to reality. Even without his left arm, Inumaki Toge is alive; pliable and warm against Yuuta’s chest. Even without his left arm, Inumaki Toge loves him with the entirety of the body he has left. Yuuta buries his nose in Toge’s silky hair and inhales. They are alive.
“Mustard leaf,” Toge flicks his nose. “Yuuta.” I missed you.
“I missed you too,” Yuuta blushes in response. “Can I kiss you? Is that still something we do?”
Toge snorts, “Salmon, salmon.” He turns towards Yuuta, trying to sit up more, but Yuuta presses his index finger against his lips. Before Yuuta left, Toge was the one to initiate kisses more often – Yuuta was too shy for that sort of thing.
Yuuta does not want to be shy anymore.
Not after a year of long-distance relationship.
And especially not after Shibuya.
“Just relax,” he whispers. Toge quirks his eyebrow at him, but then his eyes flutter closed when Yuuta leans in.
And the kiss is new, different from how they kissed before, a year ago. Yuuta wants to be gentle like before, he swears he was planning to kiss Toge softly, kindly, because Toge is injured—but he can’t. Not when Toge sighs into the kiss, not when his one arm holds onto Yuuta with raw strength, not when Toge’s tongue runs across his bottom lip.
Not when he missed him so.
So Yuuta devours him instead. His hot, hot, ablaze kiss begs Toge to accept his love, the love too much to bear on his own, the love he sometimes worries might turn Toge into a cursed spirit because it is just so potent and overwhelming. But Inumaki Toge doesn’t falter. Not when cut by Sukuna, nor when facing the almost oppressive affection of Okkotsu Yuuta whose history with loving others is threatening at best. He takes Yuuta, the entirety of Yuuta, the ferocious kiss, the possessive bursts, and the devoted gentleness that Yuuta is capable of. The patience. The attunement to the onigiri ingredients. The shy, affectionate questions as Yuuta is desperate to ensure Toge’s consent is one hundred percent willing and enthusiastic.
“Salmon,” Toge moans under him, his heartbeat so strong that Yuuta can feel it. That was so good.
“Yeah?” Yuuta asks, suddenly self-aware. Especially when he looks at Toge whose lips are vivid now, in a stark contrast with the black seals on his face.
Toge nuzzles him with a muffled tuna mayo. You have grown, he tells him. You’re more confident, too. I like it.
“Everyone says that,” Yuuta responds sheepishly. “You feel stronger, too. More muscular.” He runs his hands along Toge’s side, across his abdomen.
“Mustard leaf.” Toge is melancholic. My plank time was unbeatable. Anger licks at Yuuta’s heart, but he cools himself off. He can’t afford to give in to anger when Toge is warm and vulnerable in his arms.
“We can spar sometime,” he offers. It is not much. But Toge shoots him a grateful look and he flexes his arm in a playful display of strength. “I’ll have you on your back in no time.”
“Salmon.” That’s hot. Toge flicks out his tongue against Yuuta’s cheek and Yuuta can’t suppress his giggle. He kisses Toge’s impossibly soft, celestial hair and delights at Toge’s basking sigh.
“You’re so needy.”
Toge bites his neck, “Caviar.”
And they burst out laughing.
Because even amidst of the losses and the pain, there is contentment and there is bliss, and they are together.
“I won’t be long.”
Fighting with Toge was not on his list of priorities. It is insanity that he has to hide anything from his boyfriend, but Yuuta understands the severity of his mission. Toge does not. Clingy after their long separation and still vulnerable without his arm, Toge wants to know where he is off to.
The ugly, sick guilt flooding Yuuta’s stomach is worse than nausea. He cannot say it. Toge is friends with Itadori Yuuji. Toge wouldn’t take it well. If Toge knows, others might learn it too. The liability here is too dangerous. Withholding the information is the best Yuuta can do, and so, insufficient though it may be, he rubs Toge’s hand, the one he’s got left, in a weak attempt to comfort the increasingly agitated Inumaki.
“Cod roe,” Toge snaps at him in an act of desperation. I could make you say it. I could force you.
“You could,” Yuuta nods. He is not going to resist the technique either. But they both know that Inumaki Toge has not once used his power in an unethical fashion. A muscle jumps in Toge’s jaw.
“Tuna.” Please, tell me.
His voice begs. His lavender eyes plead. His hand holds onto Yuuta’s with too much tightness. Yuuta knows it well because it is how they held hands on the way to the airport, a bit over a year ago. This is Inumaki Toge begging Yuuta to take him with. The toughness of Toge’s hand on him is a far cry from how his fingers trailed behind Yuuta’s ear last night, stroking Yuuta’s hair in soft, smooth, tender gestures.
Yuuta’s own desperation grows. He is terrified of what Toge will think when the news will roll out, big headlines announcing that Okkotsu Yuuta killed Itadori Yuuji. Yuuta is genuinely afraid that the warm affection in Toge’s eyes will be replaced with contempt. Ice cold, black, disappointed contempt. Yuuta has always found Toge so unimaginably kind, ever since they first met. It was this quality, this resilient, unconditional, resolute kindness that Yuuta fell in love with. It wouldn’t be unimaginable if Toge couldn’t bear the thought of kissing the fingertips of a murderer.
“I just want you to remember,” Yuuta says, voice laced with vulnerability, “that you know who I am, Toge. You know me. You know that I wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.”
“Salmon?” Yes, of course. What’s with this? Toge looks impatient and nervous.
“Please just continue to trust me, okay? Instead of assumptions—”
“Careful what you say, Okkotsu-senpai.”
Toge looks like he is on the verge of spitting Go away into Fushiguro Megumi’s face. Megumi is guarded, but the glance he shoots at Toge is kind. Then he regards Yuuta intently without saying a word.
“I know, sorry,” Yuuta lowers his head. He can’t warn Toge for what’s to come. His eyes begin to prickle as he chokes out, “I suppose it’s goodbye then.”
“Yuuta,” Toge breathes. His hand trembles as he reaches up, touching Yuuta’s face.
And Yuuta breaks.
“I’ll come back soon, okay, Toge? Please just hang in there,” he blurts out, unable to keep the words back in his lungs. He presses his forehead against Toge’s, one hand on his shoulder where his left arm should be, another still intertwined with Toge’s. His throat is too tight to breathe or to swallow the saliva in his mouth.
“Cod roe, tuna,” Toge mutters with resignation. His voice is achingly hollow. I’ll catch up. So next time I can come with.
The dark smudges under Yuuta’s eyes grow darker, granting him a menacing look. “There will be no next time. I’m not going to places without you anymore.”
Something sparkles in Toge’s eyes. Like mirth, but more serene than that, it is akin to a quiet satisfaction at Okkotsu Yuuta’s promise. He leans forward—Yuuta could count those long eyelashes grazing his cheek before Toge’s lips touch his. The kiss is chaste and shy, quite unlike Toge’s usual style, but there is something meaningful in it – it is like a seal on Yuuta’s promise, and Yuuta accepts this bind.
I love you, Toge says with a whispered ‘tuna’.
“I love you too,” Yuuta rasps, but there is no joy in it this time. He hesitantly lets Toge go, and Toge immediately disappears behind his collar, hiding his bitter expression. What he can’t hide, though, is that pair of eyes, upset and unhappy.
Toge, Yuuta thinks as he walks away with Fushiguro, you and I have a history of trusting each other. Please don’t run from me when Itarodi’s death notice arrives.
As they make their way towards their destination, the considerate Fushiguro looks away when Yuuta wipes at his eyes roughly, drying up the damp paths of tears on his cheeks.