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The overgrowth of wayward weeds spill onto the abandoned structures of an old church. Tendrils choking out thick concrete that crack in the middle, splitting into halves. And everything in here is musty, earthy. Dust dancing in the gaps where the light filters through. It sparkles as they float, then fade out.
There is this eeriness that always comes with the territory. A given in this society of curses versus sorcerer, but admittedly there are times when it hikes up. A skyrocketing feeling that pricks at the pores of your skin. An echoing that bounces off the crumbling architecture.
And it whispers faintly in Yuta’s ears as he drags his feet over rubble and cracked beer glasses. He’s a lot older now, perhaps marginally wiser as well. But he’s still trying to kick that habit where he fumbles with the straps of his katana, hoisted across his chest. He’s nervous and of course he’d outwardly blame it on the powerful and flooding energy that douses the old church.
But in truth it’s because he’s with Inumaki. And if it’s Inumaki--he’s always nervous. That’s not to say he’s uncomfortable--no. He’s absolutely willing to be with him. Trusts Inumaki more than he could ever trust anyone else. There’s this unspoken bond between them that doesn’t need words. So comfort is not the issue.
There is no issue. He placates---taking an uneven breath. There is no issue because why would there be? It’s just his brain mumbling about. Doing that thing where it loves to create these air pockets of useless thoughts.
And he really wishes he could quit his brain sometimes. Or all the time. Depends.
“Konbu.” Inumaki tugs at his sleeve, pointing at a row of church pews. Hands forming the words he cannot say. Seems suspicious.
Yuta nods, squaring his shoulders to stand up straight. “Right.”
Inumaki unzips his cowl, exposing his markings. And Yuta watches with deliberateness, tracking the movement of his tongue that slicks Inumaki’s lips with saliva. He’s fighting back a shudder, as he unsheathed his katana. Focus---Yuta tells himself.
To his left--Inumaki is signing, with a smirk on his face. Like we practiced?
Yuta smiles back because he loves this. He loves when Inumaki shows this confidence in them. Indulging when Inumaki slides behind him, pressing firm hands into Yuta’s shoulder blades. And the way Inumaki leans in further, so close their heats begin to mingle together. He can feel when the other snakes his hands around Yuta’s temples, it’s then that he closes his eyes. A firm grip on the hilt of his sword. Anticipation was crowding within him.
Inumaki leans just that bit closer---lips grazing Yuta’s ears. “Kill it.”
Yuta allows the curse to flow through his veins, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head before snapping his attention forward. It’s then that Inumaki releases him, jumping back.
This time Inumaki directs his words at the wraith, coagulating and oozing towards them. “Freeze.” The atrocity stops. Warbling out in pain. Yuta is hot on its heels as he slices diagonally through it. Steam flooding and enveloping them in a fog.
It’s thick, the haze that is. Yuta’s letting the last of Inumaki’s curse seep out of him, rotating his shoulders--- “Inumaki?” He calls out. But the mist is so dense. Zero visibility passed the tip of his blade. “Inumaki? Whistle if you hear me?”
The silence is concerning in this way that makes Yuta increasingly anxious. Because---begrudgingly-- he’s hyper fixated on Inumaki. Constantly keeping his trained eyes and ears, laser focused on his friend. It's not as if Inumaki is careless, or unskilled. He’s plenty talented, but Yuta’s just this freak of nature. This mess of a human that cannot scale back the margins of his love. It’s either he cares too much or not at all.
He’s obsessed with Inumaki though.
“Rika.” He calls out. “Find Toge and protect him.” He commands.
Without complaint she coos, materializing, then disappearing into the smog. “Okay! Yuuta!”
He can hear her calling out for Inumaki as he crouches down to place his palms on the wooden flooring. Recalling all the information handed to him prior to the mission.
There’s something unmistakably wrong with all of this. And he wouldn’t put it past the fact that maybe this isn’t just some measly congregation of low leveled curses. It’s happened before.
There is always room for errors.
“Yuutaaa.” Rika cries, she seems panicked. Something Yuta is not used too. His nostrils flare as her form clears the fog.
She’s turned up empty handed. “Yuuutaa. I can’t find Toge!”
Slowly he can feel the calmness slipping from his fingers. He’s a special grade now. Truly. He’s been gone for a year to become this good. He’s supposed to be this good. Supposed to handle this with ease, no casualties, the document said.
“Okay.” He exhales. Fists tighten around his katana, which hangs from his left side. Where did he go wrong? What had he missed?
This old church. How old was it? This curse. A wraith. A ghostlike apparition. But---it didn’t look like a ghost?
“Inumaki!” Yuta calls out. It’s not desperate---yet. Just a firm holler, like yelling for him across a field.
Staying in place wont do him any good, So Yuta starts moving and traversing the fog with this heightened awareness. Rika is floating behind him, worrying about her two front talons together. Yuta knows she feels bad for not finding Toge. Mainly because she’s taken a liking to him. So does Yuta.
He really likes Inumaki.
“Uh.” He awkwardly lets out by accident. Why was he thinking about that at this time? As if he’s got the luxury of daydreams.
But his brain gets increasingly louder in this stark silence. Which is funny, because he can’t even hear his sneakers creaking the floorboards. Or Rika’s talons grinding themselves together.
Where’s Inumaki? Where’s Inumaki?
Where the fuck is Inumaki?!
His mind is going through some kind of shock, as he stops abruptly, his hands shaky. Is he scared? Panicked? Worried? An amalgamation of all three? Cursed before he’s slashed that fucking thing?
Dreaming?
There’s too many thoughts pile-driving into him at once. Yuta feels dizzy, hazy around the edges, and for a split second his vision blurs.
Suddenly something grabs his ankles, which startles him to fall back and land onto the ground. Eyes widen--- body frozen from pure fear.
It’s Inumaki. Inumaki. INUMAKI. IT’S INUMAKI. His brain screams---it won't shut up.
Quickly Inumaki pounces on Yuta, legs straddling his hips-- covering his mouth and nose. His free hand signing, Air. Don’t breathe. Bad.
Yuta’s vision is clearing, he can finally see that Inumaki has his cowl tightly wrapped around his nose and mouth. His friend fishes for something in his pocket and pulls out a black face mask.
In rapid succession--Inumaki had moved his hand and placed the face mask onto Yuta’s face.
Yuta. Don’t talk, use---sign for now. I think the fog is poisonous.
He nods, his breathing is shallow. Finally Yuta can feel himself coming down. He hadn’t even noticed---that the fog was doing this. Making him crazy.
He’d just assumed it was himself.
Inumaki comes to sign again--- I found an exit, but the veil is still intact. I’ve also noticed--- He pauses, allowing Yuta to catch up to his hands. ---The fog is only situated within the church.
Yuta, brings his hands up--he’s a little bit more clumsy with his signing. So the plan?
We get outside, asses from there. Maybe send Rika back inside to locate the actual curse we are here for. Inumaki ends it with a thumbs up.
And Yuta thinks he’s rather brilliant. More deserving of his special grade title than he is. Inumaki’s always been the strategist behind all their plans, the most watchful. The most observant. It’s because he hardly needs words to see beyond all the smoke and mirrors. He’s not surprised, more so captured in this separate haze Inumaki emits. Suddenly he’s missing the heavyweight of Inumaki being on top of him.
The flash of disappointment is apparent since Inumaki furrows his brows together. Tapping a finger to the center of Yuta’s head. Yuta?
He wants to tell Inumaki a trillion things. Like how he’s glad to finally have found him. Like how smart he is. How impressive he’s being.
How much he’s missed him.
I’m fine. Just thinking. Yuta signs.
Inumaki snorts, a mischievous twinkle in his eye---Don’t hurt yourself trying.
He’s joking and Yuta muffles a laugh as they bump shoulders. And that’s just another thing he loves about Inumaki.
Likes. He likes about Inumaki. Shit.
While Yuta desperately tries to get it together, he can see Inumaki holding his phone. The compass app opens on it. The blonde is pivoting left to right, until he’s made a full circle. Turning back to Yuta. His lilac eyes shine with dedication.
At least someone’s working. Yuta comments to himself. Because he’s watching the way Inumaki has changed instead. Carefully looking at what a full year of being apart looks like. He notices a handful right off the bat. Curious about his observations.
There have been so many things Yuta wants to say. Dying to say. To ask.
He just wants to talk to Inumaki. He was planning on it---after this mission. The one tossed into his hands with an easy smile from Gojo and the promise of it being a cake walk. Crepes---Yuta thought abruptly--Inumaki loves crepes. So he’d take him out to takeshita-dori, pay for anything Inumaki orders, maybe make the attempt to ask what’s been on his mind.
How are you? When did you decide to get new shoes? Any new movies you’ve watched lately?
Did you miss me?
Do you love me?
Snap.
Inumaki’s fingers are right in front of Yuta’s eyes. Yuta. Focus, please. He signs out.
Fuck. Fuck. Why can’t he focus? What’s up with him? Why is he so bent out of shape? Yuta frustratingly shakes his head. An excuse forming on the tips of his fingers. Sorry. I think the fog is messing with my head.
The blonde nods, a look of concern passes between them. I sense a stronger presence south west of us. Do you?
With all that is left of him--Yuta closes his eyes. Tries to even out his breathing without intaking too much. Lets his senses hone in on the concentrated curse energy---pinpointing it. Slowly he opens his eyes, I do.
Inumaki sharply nodded, I left pieces of torn paper from the report on the ground to make a trail. If we follow it, it’ll lead us outside. Then you can tell Rika to head into the direction of the curse.
They follow the paper trail, a forced silence between them. It’s not like they can’t speak with their hands. Yuta knows how, obviously Inumaki does too. But he’s feeling guilty about this whole ordeal. For one--Inumaki was his support. Mainly tagging along for the hell of it. Secondly-- Yuta’s been doing exceptionally well at being utterly useless. Unable to focus, to concentrate on a thorough plan.
He trusts Inumaki’s calls, but he’s sore about not being able to show Inumaki how much he’s grown. It’s a silly reason, yet he still feels upset about it. Because---perhaps he wanted to impress the other. Show Inumaki the new and improved. The difference between Yuta then and Yuta now.
But it’s dawning on him that maybe it’s not quantifiable. Maybe he hasn’t changed much? Gotten taller, yes. Longer hair, parting off to the sides, obviously. Quicker, better with the sword. The list can go on and on, but nothing comes from it.
They are still stuck in this mess and his head is still riddled with--he doesn’t know--a poison from the fog. His own damning thoughts.
It’s half and half at this point.
Inumaki finally stops and Yuta finally looks up to see they are outside of the church. For the most part---everything is overgrown around it. Thickets in place of what once were parking slots and planter beds. It’s an old town, with a rich history--is what the report said. “Konbu.”
Can we talk now? Yuta signs.
“Shake.” Inumaki nods.
Yuta leaves the face mask on---a cautious notion. His brain fog is still there--- “So, we bring out Rika now?”
“Shake.” Inumaki comes closer, closing the gap in between the two of them. Surprisingly he slouches against Yuta’s chest. Hands trembling to sign out. Sorry. I was holding my breath, the cowl fabric isn’t as thick as a face mask.
And that’s just it, isn’t it? The utter and undisturbed kindness of Inumaki Toge. Always putting others first. Always stepping in without any regard for himself.
That sets off Yuta in one million little ways. Something bloomed in his chest as Inumaki fell further into his arms. “Relax. Rika and I can take care of the rest.” And all he really wants to do is take care of Inumaki.
Get this shitty-from-the-get-go mission over and done with. Take him to a crepe cafe---spoil him rotten---and just maybe, get the words dislodged from his throat.
Maybe.
“Rika. Kill it.” Yuta throws out his katana. She’d disappeared earlier after finding Inumaki--now she roars to life. Thrilled to see the both of them together. “Toge! Toge! Yuuuuta found Toge!” She sing-songs as she whips back into the church.
Yuta leads the both of them to lean against the rusty fence line. Yuta reaches for something in his back pocket, hand returning with a bottle of antiseptic throat spray. “It’s not much, but it will coat your dry mouth.” Yuta offers.
With a shaky hand, Inumaki takes it and decaps it quickly---chugging it down. He looks worse for wear---bangs sticking to the dampness of his forehead. Cheeks reddened and eyes glossy. Yuta can hear his friend panting out, shallow breaths. Inumaki picks up his hands, to drop them all together.
His voice croaks out. “Numb.” --- “I’m numb--all over.”
Quickly Yuta brings his hand to the center of Inumaki’s chest. Allowing his reverse curse energy to flow, but he can instantly feel a blockage. A jam in the middle of Inumakis throat. “Okay.” Yuta breathes out, a shaky tone to his voice. “D-do you trust me?”
“Please..” Inumaki begs through panting breaths. Clutching onto Yuta and it’s such a flipped switch from the Inumaki from before.
Was he holding it all together just for the sake of Yuta’s paper thin will?
He speaks again, trying to muster up the confidence to do what he must. “Relax your jaw.” Yuta gently demands, using his hand to massage Inumaki’s chin to loosen. “Open for me please.” He nudges his index finger around Inumaki’s lips.
Gulping down hard, he breaches the threshold. Fingers plunging into Inumaki’s mouth. He’s talking himself down--inwardly. Trying to control the fabric of himself that’s ready to snap. Letting loose the livewires in him. “Breathe.” He tells Inumaki, but it’s really for himself.
His fingers are traveling deeper and he can feel Inumaki’s throat constrict around him. Gagging and one sharp convulse forward. And Yuta is focused, watching like a hawk, making sure he doesn’t injury Inumaki anymore than he is suffering. There's a weak whimper around his digits, but Yuta can feel the ball of poisoned curse fluid that's lodged itself in Inumaki’s throat. Inumaki moves suddenly and Yuta nearly loses hold of the damn thing, “Inumaki.” He scolds. Tone deep, eyes narrowing. “Don’t move. Stay still.” He means it with care, but his voice is creepily powerful. Commanding.
And for some reason, the tight constriction around his fingers feels dominating. Like he’s finally in charge of something. Yuta can see the fluttering of Inumaki’s eyelashes as his eyes roll to the back of his head while Yuta pulls----Inumaki moans around his fingers.
And if it wasn’t for the direness of it all, Yuta would’ve paused in his resolve. Still, he keeps moving, not too eager. He doesn’t want to damage anything on his way out.
With one final yank, Yuta’s holding the marbled ball of curse poison in the palm of his hands, crushing it.
Inumaki crouches forward, coughing. Wheezing.
Yuta can feel the drool running down his hand, sticky saliva stringing between his forefinger and middle. He takes a moment to admire---to closely see how it sparkles from the dulled sunlight reflecting off the barrier.
And he vaguely wonders how it tastes----Stop. He quickly tells himself, smearing the liquid on his jacket. He kneels beside Inumaki, who is still coughing. “Hey, hey. Breathe.” Yuta’s looking for the spare chloraseptic Inumaki keeps on himself. Finding it, “Tilt your head back.”
But Inumaki is quicker than his command, snatching it from Yuta and fully chugging down in one gulp. Gasping as he throws the empty bottle behind him. “Yuta.” Inumaki strains. Hands tiredly signing out. Warn me next time.
“Ah. Sorry sorry. I just---was too focused.” He shyly ducks his head down in an apologetic bow. He’s absolutely embarrassed. Now he’s definitely on to you, you know? His brain fights back. Like a little snicker in the dark. And Yuta’s not really sure why his mind is so hell bent on tripping himself up today.
“Yuta. Tuna.” Inumaki speaks, leaning back on his palms--trying to regain his breathing.
“Yuuuuta!” Rika calls out. A happy cheer, as she holds a gangly woman, pale skin splitting at the seams, hair longer than the tendrils wrapping around the church, with a face so mangled it’s almost unrecognizable. Before Yuta can regard her, Rika splits her in half, large talons on each end of the wraith. The scream is barely audible over Rika’s laughter. “Killed it! Yuuuta.”
Immediately the fog clears at the same time the veil drops.
“Good girl.” Yuta smiles. Waving her towards them. Rika easily complies as she does, wisping around them.
She sees Inumaki and instantly cheers again. “Toge! Toge looks better now.” She silently coos as she approaches the cursed speech user.
Inumaki smiles, coming to pat at Rika’s head. “Tuna mayo!” He compliments.
But Yuta’s paying attention to the way Inumaki looks debauched. Cheeks still flushed, hear disheveled as his lids halve his eyes, lowering them to a smolder. Lips pinker and swollen from being stretched by Yuta’s fingers.
And Yuta’s jaw is slack, cotton mouth and senses lit aflame.
-----------
Later that day, Yuta finds out they’ve received the wrong mission folder. He truly was meant to deal with something less pressing than this. Gojo had meant to give him an easier mission---just so he can get used to the swing of things. Get used to having a partner again.
Plus dealing with more ghost-human-like curses was more suited for Panda. Someone who relied on brute force rather than cursed objects or speech.
Regardless, Yuta was annoyed with his babbling teacher as he walked away to check on Inumaki in the medical wing. His hand fidgets with the strap of his katana--again. He’s gonna do it, Yuta’s decided.
He’s gonna ask Inumaki out. On an official date. Not as friends, not as classmates. Something within him had changed. And maybe it’s because even after their mission.
Even after the illusion of a fog and the excuses of poison in the air---He’s still thinking about Inumaki.
Yuta’s actually never stopped. He thought about him before leaving, during it, and up until now. And he’s ultimately decided he’ll keep thinking about Inumaki.
Until forever.
And yes, he’s getting that possessive pep in himself. The one that cursed Rika. The one that led him here---but he’s beyond himself at this point. Doesn’t regard the gloomy look of seriousness he’s emitting.
It’s only when he sees Inumaki sitting by the koi fish pond that he feels himself go soft. Back into that air of fragility, a careful love. Still reckless, but cautious not to go out of bounds. He breathes then. Hands balled up.
He’s so much taller now and Yuta’s gotten familiar with the way his body moves, but as he looms over Inumaki, he can’t help feeling like a creep about it. Slowly the blonde turns, beautiful doe-like eyes, peering up. The snake and fangs, on full display. “Konbu.”
Yuta smiles. “Hi.”
Inumaki pats at the porch, telling Yuta to sit.
It’s silent for a good few minutes before Inumaki signs, Thank you for today.
“Wah. My pleasure.” Yuta says, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “S-sorry I was so useless though…”
Inumaki smacks his shoulder, a cute glare fixed on his face. “Okaka.” You were plenty uselessful. You saved my life.
Yuta laughs. “I almost choked you.”
The blonde is shaking his head. Don’t worry about that. I was just startled.
“I know, I know. I should’ve warned you.”
Inumaki slides closer, bumping shoulders. No. I was surprised because… Yuta’s fingers were--- “Ahhh.”----big.
“Eh?” Yuta blinks, but Inumaki already ducks in face into the soft fabrics of Yuta’s clothed shoulder.
Oh. OH. Yuta’s mind short circuits. “--Wait. So you didn’t hate it?”
Inumaki is muffling something, fursiouly scrubbing his face into Yuta’s jacket sleeve. Shut up. His hand shoots out to sign.
“Inumakiiii---” Yuta whines trying to peel the other off his sleeve. “Cmon look at me, please?”
It takes a moment, but Inumaki emerges from the burrowing he’s been doing on Yuta’s sleeves. Cheeks red, ears red, neck red. And Finally Yuta gets it.
Inumaki is shy.
Yuta laughs. Inumaki, shy? He’s never heard of that before. Inumaki is a force to be reckoned with. A silent storm of a person and Yuta knows, if he could talk---he’d be a menace to society, sans cursed speech and all. But shy?
This was new.
Inumaki is purposely avoiding Yuta’s soft gaze. “You liked it didn’t you?” He’s asking an honest question. Not to tease, but Inumaki’s snorting. Mistaking Yuta’s curiosity for cockiness.
Shut up. I’m not proud of it. He signs furiously. Purposely going fast in hopes Yuta can’t read it. (Jokes on Inumaki because Yuta is just sickeningly obsessed with him, that nothing passes his watchful eyes)
Jokingly Yuta suggests, “Well. At least you know someone willing to put their fingers down your throat. If ever you need it again.”
But Inumaki isn’t laughing, he’s staring wide-eyed at Yuta like he’s just revealed all the secrets of this world. Like he’s said the most valuable thing. “Yuta.” He calls out softly. Hands shy, Did you miss me?
It’s a sudden change, the atmosphere, the meaning of his words. Body language. And Inumaki’s fingers dangle in midair. Suspended in time---like a bated breath.
Of course. Yuta wanted to say. Of fucking course he missed Inumaki. That’s the whole reason he’s so fucked up in the first place.
Because he’s vibrating with all this unpolished adoration and care---with nowhere to put it---he’d been carrying it with him. Everyday. For a whole year. Maybe even more. And his brain space is filled with thoughts. With wishes.
And it’s all too much---what Yuta feels for Inumaki---that it jams itself in his throat. Conversations stuck on the back of his tongue. They could very well die there.
But he doesn’t want that. He at least wants to try, see what could come out of it. It was important to answer Inumaki then.
Saying ‘I miss you’ , just wasn’t enough.
“Yeah.” He starts off, “A lot, actually. Ha.” Yuta laughs to fill in the gaps, where he can’t match his words to his heart. “Listen. Inumaki.” There’s really no going back.
“I-I think I like you.” Yuta figures, but it still doesn’t sound right. It feels like it’s him holding back again. So he trails his fingers towards Inumaki’s thighs, his index and middle walking it’s way up to settle his full palm there. He can hear Inumaki’s voice hitch at the touch. “No no. That’s a lie.”
It’s a lie because---it’s so much more. It’s been so much more. He’s Yuta Okkotsu, he only knows how to love. To love with this violent care. To love with his bones, with his soul.
So when he inches closer, head tilting to the side, lips centimeters away from Inumaki’s. He breathes out the lump lodged in the middle of his throat. “I-I know I love you.”
This time it feels right. Feels like soaring, like he weighs nothing. Especially when their lips press and Inumaki sighs into it. Like he’s been waiting for Yuta to come around.
To come back.
And they kiss for so many different reasons. They kiss for the time they’ve lost---for the words they can’t say---for the things they can.
The way Yuta licks into Inumaki’s mouth feels like an apology, like he’s sorry for all the distance between them. The little nibble Inumaki gives Yuta on his bottom lip speaks like a balm---it’s okay, you’re here now.
And it’s okay. It really is, Yuta can tell. Because Inumaki’s in his ear, panting from their searing kisses, “I have always loved you.”
For the first time in a long while---Yuta thinks---this is what home feels like.
Just for no good reason at all, or for all the good reasons. Yuta smiles, down at Inumaki. Thumbs running over curse seals of the man he loves so much, “I love you.”
He whispers it over and over again. Like his voice can’t stop and he wont stop. Yuta wouldn’t dare.