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Okkotsu Yuuta was a talented sorcerer. A prodigy amongst the Jujutsu World. He’d faced off against the most abhorrent, barbarous curses that ranged from the feeble, inoffensive 4th Grade spirits that would cower in his presence to the bloodthirsty, unrelenting and rare Special Grade curses that had the unfortunate destiny of crossing paths with him.
He could yield a sword on par with Maki; He was bestowed with surreal speed and monstrous strength that could rival Itadori’s own; he was blessed with an abundance of cursed energy. He mastered physical hand-to-hand combat and he was often compared to Gojo Satoru – the strongest sorcerer that shifted the balance of the Universe and Heavens upon his birth – with his unparalleled proficiency and power with utilizing and manipulating cursed energy.
So, wasn’t it rather humiliating (and ironic) that one of the greatest and most respected (and feared) man would be so incompetent, inept even, at the most mundane and elementary task such as of preparing breakfast?
His kitchen resembled the disharmonious, disastrous mayhem of battlefield. Pots and pans were littered across multiple surfaces, each containing odd mixtures, others held poorly whipped eggs and half melted butter. The marble counters, once pristine and polished, was dusted with ivory flour and granulated sugar. Wrappers and packages cluttered the floors, crushed by frantic feet dashing back and forth.
Yuuta Okkotsu’s brain was a jumbled, scattered clutter of disordered thoughts centered around copious ingredients (some of which he’d never even heard of, he didn’t even dare pronounce them) and convoluted and sophisticated steps to achieve the perfect cinnamon brioche french toast. His anarchic state was only worsened by the lack of rest – the sun rising from it’s own slumber, glistening rays exposing his messy environment and reminding him that he’d been struggling for a disconcerting amount of time.
He rubbed his wrinkled temple, spreading white power across his already disheveled dark hair and features. He sighed as he reread the instructions to a particularly challenging task over and over again, one hand gripping a whisk that dripped golden syrup onto his floor and socks, the other hugging a large bowl to his chest, the contents within it looking nothing alike the picture that accompanied the recipe of his phone.
He wordlessly cursed the presumptuous author of the intricate recipe and himself for assuming he was capable of executing such a complex dish when his culinary skills barely passed that of a child. He whisked the odd colored batter in his bowl, but quickly halted his movements when he caught whiff of burnt smoke, his eyes and body quickly turning towards the oven that he believed he had previously shut off – though given the charcoaled, inedible state of his toast, his deduction was wrong.
He ran towards the oven, placing the whisk and dish down (and if he overheard something crash and shatter in the distance, he chose to ignore it). He turned the knob off and hunched over the ashen remnants of what was meant to be his first batch of french toast.
He would have sobbed at his wasted efforts, though his piteous self-deprecation was interrupted by a spontaneous pair of lean, pale arms leisurely wrapping around his middle; a lithe body embracing and leaning against his back.
Yuuta smiled wide and turned around and there he stood, his love, his everything – Fushiguro Megumi.
Dressed in one of his old, oversized shirts that the younger had “borrowed”. The garment hung loose over his silhouette, exposing tempting collarbones and a thin neck dusted with faded, fuchsia marks and teeth imprints.
“Good morning” His voice still weighed with remnants of recent slumber, hoarse and slurred. His magnificent eyes looked at Yuuta, hooded under long, dark lashes that fanned on the apples of his soft cheeks and his pink lips naturally pouted. The eldest of the duo leaned over and united their lips, the touch soft and docile, sweet, innocent and perfect.
“Good morning, Gumi.” He breathed out once they parted, a timid blush tinting their cheeks and ears. He caressed Megumi’s warm cheek in his hand, who happily leaned into the touch, longing for the comforting gesture. His long fingers brushed against disheveled, unmanaged onyx locks that made his partner even more endearing.
“You’re up early.” His other hand massaged soothing circles into the small of Megumi’s lithe back, and if Megumi were physically capable of purring, he would have. “You had a really difficult mission yesterday, you should be resting.”
“I smelt burning, I was worried.”
Yuuta blushed bright crimson. His efforts to greet and awake Megumi with a lavish, delicious breakfast had culminated in his lover awakening prematurely from his much-needed slumber with burnt and unfinished food and a hazardous, messy kitchen – all due to his culinary inadequacies.
“I wanted to surprise you. I’m sorry that I woke you up.” He apologized crestfallen, dejected and embarrassed.
Megumi glanced over the disordered room and despite the mayhem and clutter, his eyes sparkled with wonderment and he cracked into a brilliant smile – a rare sight that instantaneously lifted Yuuta’s saddened state. The Ten Shadow User laughed marvelously and cupped Yuuta’s face in his tender hands, the hold impossibly careful – as though he were holding his entire world within his delicate fingers.
And In Megumi’s eyes, Okkotsu Yuuta truthfully was his absolute everything.
“Whilst I appreciate your efforts, you should leave cooking to me.” His fingers massaged under prominent dark circles, that noticeably ripened into a darker hue due to his early start to the day.
Yuuta pouted and his eyes glistened – expression similar to a pleading pup. Megumi rose to the tips of his toes, leaning his body onto the other’s and gingerly brushed their noses together with a feather like touch and he united their lips once more, reciprocating Yuuta’s previous kiss with just as much adoration and infatuation.
“Maybe I should ask Itadori-kun for some lessons.” The taller of the two joked earning a harmless swat to the back of his head, though Megumi’s smile never dropped nor did the fondness behind his exquisite eyes.
“Even Yuuji couldn’t save you from setting our kitchen aflame.”
Yuuta feigned offense by the other’s comment, though his scowl couldn’t persist for long when he had the love of his life enveloped within his arms, wearing his shirt, blemished with his marks and grinning up at him with an ethereal expression that rivaled renaissance paintings, capable of captivating all the hearts of all blessed with the opportunity to attest to it.
“Why did you want to surprise me anyway, senpai?” Megumi questioned, elegant fingers skillfully combing through dark locks.
“You’ve been gone for over a week Megumi, you worked hard and deserved something special to welcome you back home.” Yuuta lowered both of his arms so he could encircle them around Megumi’s waist, pulling the other’s body flush against his own. “And I missed you, a lot.”
His confession was barely perceptible – a whisper that could’ve been lost adrift within a breeze had it not been for their comfortable closeness, bodies melded to one another. His forehead rested against an exposed shoulder and he breathed in the other’s sublime scent – he smelt of home, of them.
They had been dating since they were teenagers forced to survive within a cursed world. They sought solace and stability within each other when perilous danger threatened their own and their loved ones lives – what had begun as an unforeseen friendship gradually blossomed and matured into raw, intense emotions that bloomed from mutual vulnerability, dependency and trust; nurtured with countless shared memories.
Not long after their triumph against Kenjaku, after they had mourned their lost comrades, friends and family, they finally put into fruition their deeply rooted affections and love for one another. And the rest was history. They graduated, matured into adults, constructed a home together and through all the change, they remained a constant to one another, their love infinite, eternal, absolute.
“I missed you too.” Megumi confessed timidly. Though he had become more comfortable in confiding his emotions, opening up still proved to be challenging and his more indulgent, pliant, needy side was reserved solely for Yuuta.
“If only everyone knew how cute and adorable my Megumi can be.”
“You’ve been spending too much time beside Gojo-san, he’s rubbing off on you, I don’t like it.” Yuuta laughed boisterously, the abrupt seriousness that took over Megumi’s features catching him off guard.
Megumi wiggled away from the embrace and stepped across their kitchen, the couple reminded of the pandemonium that was momentarily forgotten, distracted by each other’s presence. He retrieved several ingredients and a pink apron that Satoru had gifted him as an anniversary gift – a humorous gag that had come in handy over the years.
“Pink is your color.” Yuuta chirped as he watched on as Megumi struggled to tie the apron across his back. He stepped closer to the other and took the strings into his hands, lacing them into a pretty bow. His hands clung to the other’s hips. “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast.” He spoke up nonchalantly, green eyes focused on the counter, deliberating on what to make with the scraps of their groceries that had survived Yuuta’s massacre. The hands that laid over his hips tightened.
“You’re supposed to be relaxing Megumi, not making me breakfast.” He interjected, brows furrowing, lips pouting – he looked like a kicked puppy, expression similar to Divine Dog’s own whenever he does something that his Master disapproves of. And just as Megumi was soft hearted to his Shikigami, so was he towards his partner.
“Senpai, I don’t mind cooking for you.” Megumi spoke up and begun cracking eggs into a clean bowl, expertise putting to shame the other’s prior, lackluster attempts. Yuuta remained unconvinced.
“Besides, I much prefer spending time beside you.” Megumi bit his lip and whispered out the sincere confession – the statement immediately brightening Yuuta’s soured mood, who begun kissing plentiful, innocent kisses against his shoulder and neck.
“I love you so much, Megumi.” He sung between wet kisses against the other’s warm, vermillion cheeks and nose, wet kisses gradually travelling downwards towards the corners of his mouth and then, finally, against his pink lips were he placed a longer, deeper kiss that conveyed just as much genuine love as his words had.
“I love you too.”
And as the incandescent sun continued it’s ascent over the skies, illuminating the heavens and converting them from deep indigo into clear, pale blue; as the birds begun their morning choir alongside the bristling leaves that danced, conducted by gentle winds; time remained still within the Fushiguro-Okkotsu household, the euphoric couple content by either’s presence, consumed and enamored by one another.
Amidst their culinary endeavors, they would laugh, smile and joke around. They spoke about everything and nothing all at once. Yuuta would spontaneously take Megumi into his arms and twirl him around despite his protests. Megumi would guide Yuuta on basic cooking skills and encourage him despite his best efforts paralleling that of a child. They would hold hands and feed each other.
Fushiguro Megumi loved Okkotsu Yuuta.
Okkotsu Yuuta loved Fushiguro Megumi.
And that was enough.