Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Itadori Yuuji must really love his grandfather, is Megumi's first thought.

The pink-haired boy is sitting on the hospital's uncomfortable waiting room chair. Limbs sprawled carelessly, face to the ceiling, exuding exhaustion. His grief is a thick coat the same way Megumi recognizes it in sorcerers that survive past twenty. He's the same age as Megumi. Megumi stops his wandering thought before it can start doing a competition of measuring grief's weight. That is unfair, for both sorcerers and civilians alike.

Except… Itadori doesn't feel like a civilian. Cursed energy thrums under his skin, and Megumi had to pause the first time he sensed it, because it's strong. It's way stronger than Megumi is currently. When the civilian seniors at the occult club directed him to this hospital, he was expecting to confront another civilian student with too much curiosity in their hands and too little knowledge about the danger they're facing. Instead, he's facing a boy that by all means should be called a sorcerer. But Megumi's never heard of him. Clearly, Jujutsu Tech never has either, because otherwise this boy would have been Megumi's classmate already.

But he's never heard of a sorcerer named Itadori Yuuji. A supposedly normal boy attending a normal high school with a normal life. His body hums with cursed energy, and his backpack oozes the cursed object's aura, and he is clutching it to his chest. And Megumi thinks: he's going to die here.

"I'm not giving it to you," Itadori says. It's with the same inflection as when he introduced himself after Megumi. Flat, quietly determined. Rolling waves of hurt underneath it all.

If this ends in a fight, Megumi will die. If they fight here, more than just Megumi will die. He widens his feet to his stance and prepares to do his hand seal. "Why not?"

Itadori is truly skilled. He notices Megumi's shift, and finally looks down from the ceiling and towards him. He holds his gaze for a second, before he throws it to the floor. The corner of his mouth curls to something ugly. "I'm not going to fight you."

"You don't have to, if you just hand over the cursed object."

"I'll hand it, alright? I don't want to ever see one of these damn fingers again. I'll give it, just not through you."

Megumi blinks. Nothing is going the way he's expecting it to go. "What do you mean by that?"

Itadori sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, now slumping forward instead of backwards. "Just take me to the school. I'll carry it for you."

"I… can't do that," Megumi says, faint. He can't invite an unregistered sorcerer to the school. He can't let this dangerous variable stay unknown. Who is Itadori Yuuji? Why has none of them ever heard of him before? Why does he have interest in Jujutsu Tech?

Megumi has to contact Gojou-sensei immediately.

"You can contact Gojou-sensei," Itadori says, and Megumi almost summons his shikigami dog just from how out of kilter the simple words send him. "I should probably talk to him anyway."

Can you read minds? "How do you know him?"

Itadori looks at him, then away again. That's another thing Megumi notices; Itadori seems to can't hold his gaze on Megumi for long. Like he can't bear to look at him. Like his grief includes one Fushiguro Megumi in it.

Itadori smiles, something amused and humorless all at once, and doesn't meet Megumi's eyes. "Who doesn't?"

Someone not involved in the jujutsu world doesn't, Megumi wants to say. Itadori holds his bag that has Sukuna's finger in it like Megumi will snatch it away from him with force, and he can never let that happen. He doesn't attack. He sits there, a boy on the hospital chair, in a mourning too large for Megumi to grasp.

It's a lot to take in, even for him.

Satoru sent Megumi on another errand, and his student knows the dismissal for what it is. He left without protest, only with another wary look sent his guest's way. Not for Satoru's safety, for sure. Megumi just knows to assess danger for what it is.

Both of them sit on the coffee table, and Satoru's hotel room is suddenly an interrogation room. He tries to make light of it the way he tries to make light of everything, of course. It falls flat in front of Itadori. Not for a lack of trying on his part, Satoru notices, the way he notices everything. Itadori Yuuji does attempt to match his humor the way Megumi never does. Yet his eyes are dim, and his jokes are stilted, and his speech halts. Itadori jokes like he is getting reacquainted with a habit long gone.

But his story, oh, it's nothing to joke about, after all.

"And we should believe such danger looms so close just because you said so…" Satoru pleasantly smiles, "why, exactly?"

Itadori absently stirs his tea. He has yet to drink any of it. "Because the other choice is to look the other way and have everything be destroyed."

"You sound sure of it."

Itadori looks up. People who have never met Satoru usually don't know how to meet his eyes because of the blindfold. Everything always meets his eyes, but he doesn't really need to announce that, even if the other person forgets. But Itadori looks at him, at his blindfold, at his eyes, and doesn't joke when he says, "I know so."

Satoru tilts his head, smile never slipping. Even after hearing that there are curses so strong out there banding together. Even after hearing Sukuna may target a new vessel. Even after hearing that Sugu— "Where do you stand, Itadori, for you to know all this?"

Itadori opens his mouth. He closes it again. He looks back down on his tea. "I just don't want—" Halting speeches, faltering gestures. Itadori bites his lip and opens his mouth and his lips tremble and they settle. "I just don't want this to end in tragedy, more than it already has."

Itadori Yuuji has gone through something. A normal high school student would never say that, with that much gravity, no matter what turmoil they go through. Itadori Yuuji has seen something Gojou Satoru hasn't, and that in itself goes against the rules of the universe.

Satoru chuckles, even though none of it is really funny. "How come I have never heard of you before, Yuuji?"

The boy flinches at the sound of his first name from Satoru's mouth. A small jump on the tips of his shoulders. Like it stings, for all the wrong reasons than Satoru is expecting it to.

But his expression stays that same grim thing that every sorcerer feels even when most refuses to show. His expression stays that same resigned thing, even as he attempts to maybe copy a fraction of Satoru's smile. "Let's just say me, the one you're seeing right now, only appeared here recently."

It sounds like maybe it's supposed to be a joke. It doesn't land. Satoru laughs anyway, because as much as this is confusing and concerning and baffling, it is interesting.

"You're something, you know," Satoru cheerily tells him. "Someone who has the level of jujutsu mastery as you are, suddenly popping to existence despite never registering in our radar. When the higher-ups hear about this, most likely they will question your convictions, see you as a threat anyway, and ask me to execute you." He grins at Yuuji. "Are you aware of that?"

"If I ever get close to harming anyone," Yuuji says, without any of his previous pauses, "I want you to kill me immediately."

Satoru, for once, is the one who pauses.

It sounds an awful lot like he's offering a binding vow. Satoru hears it, the spark and the extended hand. He stares at it. He keeps his hands in his pockets.

"Say, Yuuji, you wanna move to Tokyo?"

Yuuji's next smile looks like an exhale of relieved breath. Like he's scared Satoru wasn't going to offer. Like he has nowhere else to go and he scrambles to clutch at this.

Nobara finds Itadori Yuuji unsettling.

Tokyo is everything she expected it to be. Yet her school and teacher and peers are nothing like she expected them to be. Fushiguro is simply a stick in the mud. Gojou-sensei gets on her nerves. Well, actually, all of them get on her nerves. She needs more girls around her. All these boys are seriously going to make her ill.

Among all of them, Itadori is just plain unsettling. He stays next to her but doesn't get in the way. He matches her jokes but not her energy. He keeps his distance yet shuffles a bit too close. It's irritating. It's creepy. She gets the feeling that he knows all the buttons that make her tick, silently leaves some be, and purposefully clicks on some others just to piss her off.

It's unnerving. She just met him.

Itadori punches through concrete, and they save the child. He just smiles when Nobara berates him. It's creepy.

Free food after a hard day of work is awesome. Conveyor belt sushi, in particular, is awesome. What's less awesome is the fact that she's left alone with Itadori as Gojou-sensei pays for their meal, and Fushiguro goes to the bathroom. It's just the two of them, now, sitting in their little booth, across from each other.

Nobara picks on the last of her pudding. She's not one for awkward silences. She fills the silences with exclamations, insults, and brutal hits. But Itadori is fiddling with the digital camera he bought earlier, when they first met up in Harajuku, and he doesn't say anything. He likes keeping mementos, Nobara finds. Always a little to the side, a step behind, camera up and running whenever there's laughter nearby.

It's not that Nobara's paying special attention to only Itadori. A lady can't help but be perceptive and considerate.

"Boys don't usually like taking pictures," Nobara drawls. She takes another bite of pudding.

Itadori glances up at her, the slightest of smiles on his lips. "No?"

"Not really. You're just weird," Nobara says plainly. Itadori huffs something that, if done in another cadence, could've been a laugh.

"Memories," Itadori says, surprising Nobara with the intensity in which he speaks it, "are fickle. I like to have proof of them. That they really exist. Something I can touch and keep."

"Heeh," Nobara responds. Not agreeing, not disagreeing. An acknowledgement. "You're going to print those, then?"

Itadori shrugs. "Sure. You want some copies?"

"Why would I want that?"

Itadori flips the camera around. It's opened on a picture of her. She's walking, holding only one paper bag since Itadori carries the rest. Her mouth is open in a smile, and she remembers she was giving an order or another to Fushiguro and Gojou-sensei. The light falls on her face the right way and the composition makes her look flattering as a whole.

It's creepy that he took a photo of her without her realizing. It's incredible how picture perfect his shot made her look.

"Ah, I guess it's still pretty weird," Itadori chuckles, when she fails to say anything. It's a dejected yet accepting sound. "I'll delete it if you don't like it."

Itadori Yuuji is weird, and creepy, and unsettling. He laughs like a crippled man relearning how to walk. He exorcises curses like he's done it his whole life, like his life depends on it, yet like he wishes nothing to do with it.

He fits to her side like a rapidly growing mold, or a traveler finding his long lost companion, or an elderly hoarding photos to keep his memories intact. Unfit, imperfect, yet a match nonetheless.

Nobara empties her pudding. She sees Fushiguro and Gojou-sensei approaching. She stands and takes the camera from Itadori's hands.

"Carry my bags again. I'll favorite the pics I want you to print."

Itadori shuffles to follow behind her. "Yes, Ma'am," she hears him say, with enough exasperation to feel tangible, and she thinks he can still fit just fine.

He doesn't know how much more unlucky he can get today. His white shirt is wet with cola, the movie is starting already, and some other guy in another corner of the cinema hall is not very discreetly snorting. Clearly laughing at him. Junpei wants the ground to swallow him whole.

"I'm really, truly sorry," the boy who spilled his cola on him repeats. He's wearing gakuran, even though it's afternoon on a weekday. His hands hover in front of Junpei. "Please let me buy you some change of clothes."

"It's okay. That's not necessary," Junpei manages, though it's quiet in comparison. He hopes he's heard. He hopes he'll be left alone.

"Then, use my gakuran, at least." To Junpei's horror, the boy removes his outer uniform. He wears a red hoodie underneath it, but still!

"No! You don't have to!" Junpei flails and pushes the uniform back. "Genuinely, it's okay!"

The other boy pauses. Is he finally off Junpei's case? "Then, would you rather use my hoodie—"

The man on the other corner coughs another laugh.

The offer shocks Junpei enough he finally looks up properly. The other boy is glaring. Not at Junpei. He follows his gaze, to the only other person in the cinema hall, the man with white hair and sunglasses who's barely containing his laugh at their spectacle. Subjected to the glare, the man stops laughing. His grin stays, though. He raises placating hands, and slips into one of the theaters.

When the pink-haired boy turns back to Junpei, he loses all the intimidating glare he put on before. His face is open and earnest. No malice at all. Only apologetic. "Anyway, I mean it. Let me make it up to you."

"Please don't remove your hoodie here," Junpei rushes to say, when the other boy is holding the bottom of his hoodie like he's about to pull it over his head. Out here. In public. "Just—if you insist, I'll borrow your gakuran. If that's okay."

"That's totally okay." The boy smiles. No malice, no hostility. In fact, if Junpei looks a little bit too hard, it looks like he's about to cry. Junpei understands it too well, the feeling of wanting to burst to tears when you mess up.

Junpei wonders how he got here. In the cinema bathroom, with the boy who introduced himself as Itadori Yuuji washing his stained shirt in the sink. Junpei's wearing his gakuran, leaving Itadori-kun only in his red hoodie. Itadori-kun is chattering a mile a minute about making it up to him: buying him a new shirt, buying tickets to the movie he was here to watch, accompanying him to watch it together. All of which, in Junpei's opinion, are unnecessary.

"We can watch the one scheduled after this one is finished," Itadori-kun is saying, all while wringing Junpei's shirt dry. Then he blinks like he realizes something. He looks over to Junpei, for the first time since he started furiously scrubbing his shirt with handwash. "Unless you don't want the company. That's fine too. I still insist on buying you the ticket, but, well, stranger danger and all that?" He says, unconvincingly, and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

What is it about Itadori-kun, Junpei wonders, that immediately feels like finding a kin. Something about all his nervous chatter. Something about the hurt all over him blaring like a neon sign, even without any visible scars. Something about his uncertain tone and his wavering, reaching hands.

That unnamed connection, that something that has Junpei saying, "If you want, we can watch it together."

Itadori-kun smiles, a bright thing that Junpei privately thinks he should do more often.

Hanging out with Itadori-kun is… fun. It surprises Junpei, because he hasn't been able to say he's having fun, especially when spending time with someone his age, or anyone at all, in so long. They watch the later showing of the Human Earthworm 3, have a heated discussion about it afterwards, and then go out to buy crepes. At the end of the day, Junpei finds himself sitting by the riverbank, a bag of new shirt by his feet, and Itadori-kun's contact newly added in his phone.

He feels lighter than he has been in a long time.

Itadori-kun looks like he does, too, the moment he reads a text on his phone. He falls to his back, sighs, and closes his eyes. Junpei didn't notice the creases of worry on his face until it disappeared. He looks less severe, like this. Less taut and ready to break, and more like a boy Junpei's age is.

"Hey, Junpei?"

Junpei jumps from his reverie. "Yes?"

Itadori-kun still doesn't open his eyes. "Don't give up, okay?"

Junpei's breath hitches without warning. "Give up… on what?"

"Just… don't give up." Itadori-kun opens his eyes. They're old. Older than his age, than Junpei's age. They look at Junpei, and see him, and see right through him. "I can't say things like 'I promise it will get better'. But I can say I will come if you call. I will come if you text me. Always. For anything."

Something about Itadori Yuuji. Something omniscient about a boy so weighed down yet so determined to smile.

"We just met today," Junpei protests. It's weak. It's close to cracking.

Itadori-kun hums. "Doesn't that time count too?"

And maybe it does. Maybe in this world they can only afford those small specks of time, and hold on to them as tight as they can. Maybe a day is enough to gain this. Maybe a day is enough of a start for this to last.

Itadori-kun's voice is clear, and his words are a steady lifeline, and Junpei, for once, decides to reach out.

"I'll let you know when I finish washing your gakuran to give it back."

Itadori-kun laughs. Junpei thinks, likewise, the unsaid promise is heard loud and clear.

Kento hates going to Jujutsu Tech. He hates the shifting temples, the sprawling woods, the oppressive pressure of Tengen-sama's barrier. He tries not to visit unless he seriously needs to. Unfortunately, today's work ends extremely late. Unfortunately, Kento is very tired, and Jujutsu Tech is closer than his apartment from his current position. Unfortunately, he knows he still has a room in the school dorms. Scarcely maintained, but livable enough, if only for a night's stay.

It's the lesser of two evils. Kento's continued participation in the jujutsu world really is only determined by that fact.

He doesn't expect to bump into anyone, at this hour. He just wants to go straight to his room, take a quick shower, and pass out on his bed. But he walks into the dorm hall, the intersection between the student's and staff's dorm wings, to find that someone is up and about.

Kento has heard about Itadori Yuuji. Everyone has heard about Itadori Yuuji, recently. Only recently. No one has ever heard of him before. This boy that is said to be as skilled as a Grade 1 sorcerer, in everything but title. This boy that tipped them to a group of curses plotting a disaster. This boy that helped stop that disaster from ever occurring.

He is sitting on the dining table. Alone, at 10 PM on a Tuesday, shoulders hunched and expression hidden. His hands grip on a mug and spasms every once in a while. Like he's trying to hold it tight enough so he can feel it, yet not too tight he crushes it to pieces. And Kento can only think: this is just a child.

He just wants to go to his room, take a quick shower, and sleep. He can probably slip past the hall silently enough, right to the staff's dorm wing. The boy seems to be distracted enough he doesn't even realize Kento's entered the place.

Instead of doing all that, he clears his throat to let Itadori Yuuji know of his presence.

Itadori-kun looks up, letting Kento finally see his face. And his face is just a young face, with a blankness too early for his age, that crumples immediately when his eyes meet Kento's.

Itadori-kun's mouth opens in an 'oh' shape. It stays that way, with gaze too heavy pinned on Kento. His hands have stopped spasming, in exchange for a tremor all along the line of his shoulders.

"You're alive," Itadori-kun whispers. Too heavy, too genuine, too surprised.

Kento raises an eyebrow. His work did get way overtime today, but he wasn't really in mortal peril or anything. "Should I not be?"

That snaps Itadori-kun's gaping mouth closed. He smiles. It trembles around the edges. "Sorry. I'm not doubting your skills or anything, Nanamin."

Kento squints at him. A nickname, immediately on first meeting? "You know me?"

Itadori-kun carries this strain with him, Kento observes. An invisible binding all around his figure. Like he keeps expecting people to say and do something, except they don't. Like he keeps wanting to say and do something, before he stops himself short.

Itadori-kun smiles, and it looks like it hurts. "I've heard of you, I guess?"

Kento sighs. "I hope Gojou-san doesn't say anything mortifying, though that's wishful thinking." He removes his glasses, then his suit jacket. "Mind if I join you?"

The strain lessens. Kento takes a mental note of it. "Feel free to. Ah, I'm Itadori Yuuji, by the way. Nice to meet you."

He doesn't really expect the propriety from Itadori-kun, if he's being honest. It's a bit too late for Kento to enforce it, but he reciprocates the nod anyway. "Nice to meet you as well. Nanami Kento, but I'd assume you already know that."

Kento doesn't call out the way he can feel Itadori-kun's gaze that's constantly trained on him, all throughout him putting down his things and making a cup of tea and sitting himself down across from the boy. Itadori-kun's mug is still full with tea. Kento doesn't think it's even lukewarm anymore.

Kento should already be in bed by now. Instead, he sips on his tea, and asks one Itadori Yuuji, "What happened, Itadori-kun?"

Itadori-kun shivers, even though he is wearing a hoodie and a blanket over him. He meets Kento's eyes, except he isn't really looking at him. "What do you mean?"

Kento used to be a salaryman. He can smell bullshit from a mile away, and he always had to turn a blind eye. But he doesn't, here. Because this is their cruel jujutsu world, and pattern recognition is a bitch.

A child doesn't get broken like that unless they have witnessed bloodied bodies laying unmoving on top of a sleek cot. A child doesn't get broken like that unless the jujutsu world has gripped their hands and stained it red. A child doesn't get broken like that unless they have experienced directing their cursed energy to—

Kento leans his body forward. "Itadori-kun," he calls, and he isn't someone who can afford to be soft, but he can attempt to be gentle. In their world, if they don't at least try, they will have nothing. "What did you go through, before we found you?"

Itadori-kun stores this vibration within him. A frequency quicker than people normally do, like he is always a beat too close to shattering. It manifests in his shoulders, his lips, his hands, his eyes. Kento feels the resonance like a man well acquainted with earthquakes.

So Kento lets his body hunch forward and for his gaze to settle on Itadori-kun. Adult to child. Steady to counter the quakes. An interference, hopefully to nullify the wave.

And Itadori-kun, thankfully, reciprocates. He exhales, slow and controlled. His body slowly stills. He finally picks his mug up to take a sip. When his eyes find Kento's—really, truly, presently sees him—it's with too much gratitude than Kento feels is called for.

"It's okay now," Itadori-kun says. "But thank you, Nanamin."

It's not an answer, not really. But Kento can see when a topic is dropped. At the very least, Itadori-kun has stopped shaking. That has to be enough. For now, he has to think of it as enough.

He's tired. It's obvious that Itadori-kun is, too.

"Please stop it with the cutesy nickname," Kento sighs aloud.

Itadori-kun smiles around the rim of his mug, and it's almost playful. "Would you rather I call you Nanami-sensei instead?"

"I will hit you."

Itadori-kun laughs, and Kento may be too tired, because he thinks the sound carries something like nostalgia.

Chapter Text

The thing about being an assistant supervisor in a jujutsu establishment is that it's a thankless job. Kiyotaka has to handle jujutsu sorcerers daily, people who are assholes at their best and war criminals at their worst. He has to drive them around, handle their schedules, and face the higher-up’s wraths when they decide to purposefully piss them off. Thanks for that one, Gojou-san.

Being an assistant supervisor also means Kiyotaka always has a stack of paperwork at all times. Whenever he feels particularly silly he'd start thinking those papers are cursed so they're never-ending even though he works through them diligently. Reports, reports, reports. Exorcised curses, balance accounts, casualties. All of them start to blur and sound the same. All engineered to be as succinct and impersonal as possible, as is asked of them.

Kiyotaka is blaming the impartiality of those reports, when he meets a new jujutsu sorcerer and gets the image he had of said sorcerer in his head proven untrue. Because Itadori Yuuji is not an "unidentifiable threat that needs to be treated with utmost caution", he is just another young student in their damn shithole of a jujutsu school.

Legally speaking, Ijichi Kiyotaka is never having any of these thoughts.

When Nanami-san calls him to pick him up from the mission, Kiyotaka didn't expect it was to shove Itadori-kun on him. But here they are, arguing in an empty parking lot about it.

"You should leave first," Nanami-san says, after another deep sigh.

"It's fine, I can wait for you," Itadori-kun insists, almost petulantly. He turns to Kiyotaka like he's looking for backup. "Ijichi-san doesn't mind waiting too, right?"

Kiyotaka jumps. He doesn't remember ever getting to introduce himself to Itadori-kun. He looks between the two of them nervously. Somehow, both seem equally as threatening. "Um. Yes?"

"See?" Itadori-kun turns back to Nanami-san like he's already won.

"I called Ijichi-kun to pick you up." Kiyotaka has never heard Nanami-san sound this exasperatedly patient. Not even whenever he's dealing with Gojou-san. Nanami-san just sounds like he wants to resort to violence whenever he talks to Gojou-san. "My apartment is close by, and I can pick up my laundry on the way. As much as I hate to say it, I didn't have time to do it myself and had to drop it in a nearby laundry spot. It's literally only for that reason, Itadori-kun."

Itadori-kun purses his lips. "You sure?"

"Positive." If this was anyone else, Kiyotaka is sure Nanami-san would have already dismissed them. "I'll text you as soon as I get back, if that helps settle your mind."

Itadori-kun still looks unhappy. But he looks to the side and scratches his cheek, right under his eye. "Well, I guess that would do."

Nanami-san almost smiles at Itadori-kun. Kiyotaka stares at him in something like shock. When Nanami-san looks at Kiyotaka again, though, he's back to Mr. Serious and Mature Sorcerer.

Itadori-kun sits shotgun in the car. He talks to Kiyotaka for a bit, surprising Kiyotaka once again with his jujutsu knowledge, and also with how amicable he is. Jujutsu sorcerers tend to treat assistant supervisors poorly. That might also just be a him problem, but Kiyotaka doesn’t like to dwell on that. Anyway, Itadori-kun talks for a bit, then he reclines his seat, and immediately falls asleep.

Nanami-san calls fifteen minutes into the drive, and Kiyotaka pulls over to answer.

"Let him sleep," Nanami-san orders, because apparently the world Kiyotaka is living in is now a world where Grade 1 Sorcerer Nanami Kento frets over a jujutsu student twenty minutes after they just parted ways. "Ijichi-kun, that child…" the man sighs from the other end, "sometimes I catch myself thinking Gojou-san's ambition has some merits."

He doesn't elaborate and ends the call.

Kiyotaka continues driving. He supposes he gets what Nanami-san is saying too. Whenever he takes a glance at Itadori-kun, his face is slack in deep sleep. He has none of the tenseness he held when Kiyotaka picked him up right after they finished the mission, and then the anxiety when they separated with Nanami-san. He is just a boy who falls asleep in the car after a long day of work.

The reports do never manage to unveil the mystery that is Itadori Yuuji, and Kiyotaka wonders.

"What do you think about Yuuji, Nobara?"

Nobara pauses fanning her face. She follows Maki's gaze, to where the boys sit on the other edge of the field. Toge, Panda, Megumi; and the new kid Itadori Yuuji. Just like the two of them, they're resting under the shade of a tree after their training session of the day. Probably talking about some boys stuff or another, though. Gross.

Nobara turns back to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "What about him—?" Then her expression morphs to horror. She looks like Maki's question has wounded her so. "He's a total weirdo. Maki-san, why?"

"Ha?" Nobara's got it all wrong. And Maki's not about to spare her. "I'm asking what you think about him as a sorcerer. What else?"

"Oh. Oh!" Nobara brightens up again. She hides the lower half of her reddening face behind her Pocari bottle. "Well, he's not totally useless, for someone who only trained in jujutsu very recently. Still a weirdo, though."

"Hmm," Maki says. Her baton taps the grass in a low thunk, thunk, thunk. "And what's up with that?"

Nobara removes the Pocari bottle from her face. She puts her chin on her palm, thoughtful face pointed towards Maki but eyes still on the other side of the field. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't think Fushiguro knows, either." Her eyes flick to Maki. "Why the curiosity, Maki-san?"

Maki pushes her glasses up. She wonders why, too. Maybe because Yuuji can keep up with her in close combat, and there are very few people who can do that. Maybe because most times, Yuuji carries himself like he's about to get lethally attacked. Maybe because Yuuji reminds her of Yuuta, in the most confusing and incomprehensible way possible.

"Just, curious," she not-explains. She turns the question around. "Don't you get frustrated? When someone picks up a thing you're good at, and they're suddenly better than you?"

Nobara hums. She stretches her legs out and leans forward. "I guess, but also not really? That's more Fushiguro, I think." Yeah, that tracks, Maki thinks drily. Nobara stretches her arms to touch the tip of her shoes. "It motivates me to get stronger, sure. But I'm not gonna beat myself up for him surpassing me or anything."

Honestly, Maki expects nothing less from her. "Good thinking," she says, and Nobara beams at her.

"They're both frustrating," Nobara starts, emboldened by their agreeable conversation. Or maybe she just always talks so freely like that. "They never say anything about themselves! I thought that would be Fushiguro's thing, but turns out Itadori's somehow worse. It's like, he talks about himself, but it's also so painfully clear he's holding things back."

Maki nudges Nobara's shoulder to fix her posture. "Holding things back… like what?"

Nobara makes a frustrated noise, trying to keep her position steady. "Who knows?"

Because at the end of the day, the extent to which they know each other is just from how much they open up about themselves. None of them are mind readers. They can't know the other person's story if that person doesn't choose to spill it.

It is too bad, then, that jujutsu sorcerers tend to keep their cards close to their chest. In their line of work, such is the safest option. It may be the heaviest burden to carry, but it is also the path with the least potential of gaining a curse.

Toge and Panda have started striking weird poses, for heaven knows what reason. Megumi makes some commentary that Maki can't hear from this distance, but can feel the dryness of. Toge and Panda don't even pause, the idiots. And Yuuji laughs, where he is sitting next to Megumi, face open and voice carrying this far to their spot. Maki thinks he can look rather unburdened, in the right circumstances.

Nobara grunts and sits up. Maki notices that she's also looking at the boys. There is something almost wistful in her expression. "I just wish they'd be comfortable enough to open up someday. It's annoying, but aren't we supposed to be friends?"

Yep, definitely wistful. Avoiding curses… Maki agrees, it's a rather redundant task for a jujutsu sorcerer. They will always face curses, head on, even in relationships. She smiles and bumps Nobara's shoulder. "They probably will. Give them time."

Nobara looks at her, eyes sparkling with hope. "You really think so?"

Ah, how nostalgic. To be looked at with such admiration and blinding trust— "Yeah," Maki says, and hopes Yuuji doesn't turn her words into a curse.

"You're good at this. That's unexpected."

Megumi gives Panda his typical mean side-eye. He continues scooping the meat dough into balls and dropping it to the hot pot.

"Takana?" Toge asks. His face hovers closer to the hotpot, chopsticks poised to attack. Panda gently tugs him back.

"Itadori taught me," Megumi answers, somewhat begrudgingly. "He's really good at cooking."

"Huh," Panda says. "Also unexpected, but somehow more understandable."

"Will you stop dissing me while I'm trying to cook?"

Panda shuts up, because he would like to have his dinner, please and thank you. Megumi's prickly on a good day, but mentioning Yuuji within his earshot gets him to do this weird mental gymnastics where he seesaws between: a) giving stunted praises about how talented Yuuji is and very subtly implying how he enjoys Yuuji's company; or b) getting tied up in knots about how talented Yuuji is and suddenly gaining enough violence to immediately throw himself into training. Panda, for the record, would like to avoid getting caught up in the crossfire.

Toge, clearly, has no such qualms. "Konbu?"

Panda blinks at the realization. It's still just the three of them around the kotatsu. He immediately forgets his caution of angering Megumi. "You're right, they're taking too long," he speaks again after all. "Didn't they say they were just getting tea and desserts?"

Megumi sighs. "What did you expect would happen when you combine 'Kugisaki' and 'shopping' together?"

Which, fair enough. "But why did Yuuji have to go too?"

"So they can have someone to order around."

"Okaka," Toge protests. Megumi snorts.

"You're right, it's not like we can say no if they chose to bring any of us instead." Megumi stirs the soup with the cooking chopsticks. "But still, Itadori is the one least likely to piss them off just by being there. Even though they're the ones who asked him to come."

Panda chuckles. For all of his cold front, Megumi knows his friends well. Panda stares at the hot pot and wonders when it will be done, because he just might beat Toge into digging in. "How's classes so far, Megumi?"

Megumi makes a face. "It's… classes." He slams the hot pot lid closed. Probably from seeing Panda and Toge's increasingly itching hands, and recognizing the distraction for what it is. "It's jujutsu classes with Gojou-sensei and just two other students. I don't know what there is to say."

Panda wilts. Knowing Megumi, he's not going to let anyone start eating until everyone's gathered. "Come on, there’s gotta be something! How’s training with Yuuji today?”

“Mentaiko.” Toge elbows him. Panda hisses back at him. Look, there’s only so many topics one can use to talk to Fushiguro Megumi!

Megumi glares at the innocent hot pot. “He's talented. As we all know already."

“Do we know that, really?”

Megumi looks at him and frowns. “You don’t think he’s talented? I thought you said he’s really good.”

“Shake,” Toge agrees.

“Well, I did say he’s very skilled.” Panda leans back on his hands. “Totally different thing from being talented.”

Megumi's frown stays, but he humors Panda. Megumi and Maki, at the very least, are two people he knows would know the difference. "You just can't build skills like that overnight."

"Did he tell you that? That he built it all overnight?"

Megumi raises an eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not saying anything!" Panda puts his hands up. Megumi is teetering closer to frustration, and none of them wants a Frustrated Megumi Event for dinner. "I'm just saying, we don't know that. We hardly know anything about him. Sure, he's from Sendai, he found the missing cursed object, his grandpa just died. What else? Can you really say anything else about him, Megumi? Anything that connects the dots that are 'Itadori Yuuji' and 'jujutsu'?"

Megumi, predictably, looks away and doesn't answer.

"Tsujiko," Toge suggests. Megumi looks at him like he just asked him to eat the dirt from Satoru's shoes.

"You can't just ask him," he says.

"Why not?" Panda joins in.

"Well, first of all, he probably just won't answer."

To this, Panda smiles. "You don't know that."

Because Megumi doesn't know that. None of them knows the answer to these questions. And they all will continue never knowing, unless someone gets Yuuji to answer them.

They can hear the familiar voices of the rest of their friends approaching the room. Yuuji's voice is engaged in a debate of some sorts with Nobara and Maki. Truly, Panda is impressed and terrified of him. But, finally, dinner!

And just like the hot pot, Megumi simmers. There's something contemplative in his gaze, eagerness and curiosity and hesitation all wrapped in one. Panda, for one, can't wait to have a taste of the food.

"He's late!"

Ijichi shifts on his seat. He discreetly checks his phone again. Definitely to no notifications, just the same thing that is also happening on Masamichi's phone. Because Satoru loves ignoring texts and calls almost as much as he loves being "fashionably" late.

It's been thirty minutes since their agreed meeting time. Not a new record, not by a mile. But Masamichi really thought he got into Satoru for toning it down a little.

Before Ijichi can stutter out another excuse that neither of them believe, a presence pops into existence beside him. Black uniform and blindfold and white hair and all. Ijichi jumps, and Masamichi clicks his tongue. Because of course, more than ignoring his phone and neglecting to arrive on time, Gojou Satoru just loves making an entrance.

"Well, that was a handful!" he announces cheerily.

"You didn't even break a sweat, Sensei," the package Satoru is carrying retorts. Wait.

The package Satoru is clutching in one arm has a shock of pink hair and an unimpressed stare directed at Satoru. Not another one of his sweet-tasting souvenirs at all. The person looks around, sees where they are, and blinks at Ijichi. Itadori Yuuji's eyes finally move to meet Masamichi's, and then widen in shock.

"Um." He wiggles in Satoru's grip. "Sensei. You teleported wrong."

"No I didn't. I have a meeting."

Itadori hisses, a restrained hand slapping Satoru's back. "Why am I in it?!"

"Aw, I'm sure Principal Yaga doesn't mind!" Satoru grins. He kicks his shoes off without care, nevermind that his Infinity doesn't even let them touch the tatami. He sits himself down on his designated spot beside Ijichi. Itadori takes this chance to try and crawl away. Satoru doesn't release him.

Masamichi glares at his old student. "No, do explain why you bring your student here. And why you were incredibly late."

Satoru gives a long sigh. "I do so much work and I'm still not appreciated at all. You see, Yaga-sensei," the honorific is said in a patronizing tone, as usual, "I was going to arrive early, you know. Then I had to take a pit stop, and Ijichi here left me!" He throws his head back in a "woe is me" gesture. Itadori bristles. "And I have to travel all the way here by myself."

Ijichi splutters. He manages to summon a squeaky protest. "But, Gojou-san, you! You asked—!"

"You're not by yourself." Masamichi cuts in. "Why is Itadori with you?"

"Oh, yeah!" Satoru beams. "I saw an opportunity to test him. So I recruited him to help me. He did pretty well, I must say, so the least I can do is also bring him back with me! We can't have a student travel back alone this late just because I need to rush to a meeting, now can I?"

"That was a test?" Itadori mutters.

"Satoru." Masamichi steeples his hands. Ijichi gulps and Itadori winces, but Satoru remains largely unaffected. "Don't tell me."

"I'm telling you," Satoru says seriously, it circles back to deadpan. "That's two more exorcised. We don't even need to be doing this meeting anymore."

"Goddamn!" Masamichi grits his teeth and leans his face further down his knuckles. Itadori and Ijichi's eyes flit between the two of them nervously. "Ijichi."

"Y-yes?!"

"Please escort Itadori back to the dorms."

"B-but, Sir, the meeting, and the report…"

"Satoru will handle it." Ijichi grimaces. Masamichi would feel sorry for him if he isn't so pissed off. "Please leave us."

"Geez, old man, chill. They didn't do anything," Satoru says, knowing full well he's the problem. He releases his grip on Itadori. The student pushes himself with his hands, doing a flip until he lands on the genkan without his outdoor shoes ever touching the tatami. Masamichi raises an eyebrow. Itadori bows from the entrance.

"Pardon the intrusion, Principal Yaga!" he yells. Then, in a lower volume, "But really, it was Gojou-sensei's fault. Come on, Ijichi-san!" And he books it out of there.

"Itadori-kun, wait!" Ijichi bows at Masamichi before scrambling after the wayward student, with the backsound of Satoru's laughter.

When the door closes behind them, Satoru sobers again. Still with a grin on his face, though.

“This meeting was to talk about how to approach those curses,” Masamichi reminds him.

Satoru shrugs. “One decided to oh so kindly wait for me on the way here. I can’t ignore an eager fan. Another one appeared after him, which, at that point, might as well hit two birds with one stone, no?”

“Why involve Itadori, then?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? It was a test. Since you guys can’t fathom the notion of trusting a whole kid in what they say.”

“You hate working with other sorcerers.” They get in his way, after all. Gojou Satoru doesn’t need backup.

Satoru tilts his head. His smile is not a denial nor agreement. Itadori can somewhat keep up with him, then. That’s surprising.

Masamichi sighs through his nose. Talking to Satoru will never feel less than pulling teeth. “And? What did you find?”

Satoru scoffs. “What did I find? I find the same things I’ve been repeating. He’s never lied once. He’s never endangered us once. He’s helping us.” Even through the blindfold, Masamichi can tell the way Satoru’s gaze darkens. “If the higher-ups hate the idea of seeing Yuuji as a human being so much, they can start by seeing him as a valuable asset. I don’t see the problem here.”

As a teacher, Masamichi agrees with Satoru. He usually does. He gets them, really, he does. He has a list of regrets that he can only wish don’t end up cursing him at the end of the line. But he’s not just here as Satoru’s teacher, as Itadori’s teacher. He’s here as his boss, their superior, and one of their last lines of defense against the higher-ups. Because the current state of their jujutsu world means sometimes humans are as much of an enemy as the curses they fight daily are.

“He may have never lied,” Masamichi concedes, “but did you figure out anything about what Itadori omits from his explanations?” Because they all know Itadori is hiding something. Crucial things—like where he gets information about any of this at all.

Satoru’s expression lightens. He scratches the back of his neck, sighing loudly. “I have the Six Eyes, Sensei, not omniscience.”

Masamichi caves in, removing his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Still no progress, then. He can already see another unbearable meeting with the higher-ups. “I see. Don’t give Ijichi too hard of a time with the report.”

Satoru laughs. Masamichi hopes Itadori has more grace than Satoru in report-writing skills.

Shouko throws the used mask and gloves to the trash bin, grabbing the canned coffee from the table after thoroughly washing her hands. It’s no longer cold at all. Figures, when she steps out of the morgue and has to squint against the sunlight. What time is it again? She’s not sure. What she’s sure of is she didn’t get any sleep at all and she’s in dire need of a nap. She cracks the can open anyway.

She lets her feet drag her from her gloomy wing of the building while she slowly goes through her coffee. Should she crash at Satoru’s office today? He’s never there anyway. Or maybe Yaga-sensei’s office would be a better choice. The couch there is so much comfier, and she can steal some of his inactive dolls for pillows.

Decision made, Shouko nods to herself.

Turning the corner finds her arriving at the actual class’ wing. Just as well, all three first years are walking in front of her. Their conversation is loud but unintelligible from this distance. Something nags from the corner of her sleep-deprived brain, colored blue and tasted bright with summer heat. She metaphorically kicks it back to its corner by chugging the rest of the coffee.

Then she squints when she spots it.

“Hey, you three.” The three stop and turn their heads her way, previous conversation paused.

The girl—Kugisaki, if Shouko remembers correctly—raises an eyebrow. She looks Shouko up and down, before her lips curl in distaste. What an attitude. Shouko instantly likes her. Kugisaki flips her immaculate hair, turning to her friends instead of addressing her directly. “Who’s that?”

Fushiguro, Shouko’s met a few times already, courtesy of Satoru. The boy nods politely at her. “Ieiri-sensei.” He glances to the side to answer Kugisaki. “She’s the doctor here. Of some sorts.”

Shouko snorts. “Of some sorts” is a good way to put it.

The boy that stands between the two, the one that caught Shouko’s attention, smiles at her. “Nice to meet you, Ieiri-sensei,” Itadori Yuuji greets. This is her first time meeting him. She tilts her head. He looks normal enough, in a glance. Nothing about his situation is normal, according to the others, but Shouko doesn’t really care about that. What she really cares about is…

She points a finger at him. “Why are you dying?”

His classmates snap their heads turning to look at him. Itadori blinks, slowly, like a cat. “I… am?”

“Itadori,” Kugisaki says, tone dangerous. She punches Itadori’s forearm. “What is she talking about?”

Itadori rubs the place Kugisaki punched. Shouko thinks that that girl’s hits must only have “hard” as the default setting. “I don’t know! Genuinely!”

“Ieiri-sensei,” Fushiguro calls. His face is still set on his neutral flat expression, but Shouko sees the way his eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

Shouko steps closer, still focusing her attention on Itadori. His cursed energy thrums a strong rhythm inside him. By all means, he looks and feels and should be healthy. She squints a little, and she senses that the rhythm is… off. She puts a hand on her chin. “Interesting.”

“Uh, Ieiri-sensei?” Itadori says nervously. Whether from Shouko’s attention or something else unknown. “I don’t feel like I’m dying, though?”

“Maybe,” Shouko says. Then doesn’t finish that sentence. “The medic wing is too far. Can we go to your class so I can check you?”

The three of them lead her to their class. Or, well, Kugisaki and Fushiguro practically drag Itadori to their class, while Shouko follows behind them. They sit Itadori on a table so Shouko can prod and poke him further. Her previous, brief assessment still stands. Itadori is dying, even though he doesn’t look, and more, doesn’t feel like it. Interesting.

“Do you know how to use reverse cursed technique, Itadori?”

Itadori frowns. “I don’t.”

Shouko nods. “It doesn’t feel like you do. No offense.”

“So, what’s wrong with him?” Fushiguro asks.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” To think that Shouko used to see Gojou Satoru as her most interesting specimen. “It feels similar to reverse cursed technique. But you’re not healing your body or replenishing your cursed energy. It’s used… somewhere else. And it seems like, everything else about you, can’t keep up with it.”

“But I feel fine,” Itadori stresses.

Shouko shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I’m seeing.” How Itadori’s cursed energy twists and tangles within itself. How it seems to flow backwards instead of forwards. She hasn’t even touched the unidentifiable mess that brews in the pit of his stomach. “I can see why Satoru doesn’t say anything. You seem fine. But if you keep this up, either your cursed energy or your body will fail you first.”

“So can you fix him?” Kugisaki bristles. “All I’m hearing is that this dumbass is so sick he’s dying and you’re the doctor. Heal him, then.”

“I was going to,” Shouko replies drily. Was she that impatient back then? Honestly, probably yes. She reaches out a hand, ready to do her job, when Itadori raises his hands up.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He blocks her hand. There’s something that is almost panic on his face. “If you heal me, would it stop this, whatever this cursed technique thing is reversing, from happening?”

“There’s no precedent for this, so I can’t say,” Shouko says. She stares at Itadori. He shifts and refuses to meet her eyes. “Do you have any clue what it's reversing, Itadori?”

“Who cares? What’s so good you should die for it?” Kugisaki butts in. She glowers at Itadori, then at Shouko.

Itadori purses his lips. His eyes are glued to his shoes. There is something there that Shouko struggles to diagnose… Something like heartbreak and desperation and despair. Something haunted, even though sunlight streams into their large classroom from the wide glass windows.

“Itadori?” Fushiguro speaks up again. Kugisaki hides her concern in her angry yells and Fushiguro keeps his tucked in slow monotones. “Why wouldn’t you let Ieiri-sensei heal you?”

Itadori shakes his head. “I don’t want to die,” he says. Shouko doesn’t think it’s a lie. She doesn’t hear it as a whole truth either. “But, but, Ieiri-sensei, you have to make sure healing me doesn’t… un-reverse this whole thing. You get me? I don’t want t—whatever it’s reversing, to start going forward again.”

In her mind, Shouko writes down a list of hypotheses:

1. Itadori Yuuji knows exactly what he’s reversing;
2. He refuses to divulge information on what he’s reversing;
3. He thinks whatever it is he’s reversing is worth more than his life;
4. While it’s unclear if he’s doing this purposefully or not, it’s clear that he doesn’t know how this works entirely either;
5. If he continues doing this without figuring out how to mitigate the side effects, he will die;
6. If he continues doing this without letting Shouko heal him, he will die.

Conclusion: Shouko wants a cigarette.

“For now,” she says, because Kugisaki looks like she’s about to start descending into a fit of rage and Fushiguro looks vaguely constipated, “I can offer you two options.”

Three sets of eyes settle on her. Itadori fidgets with his hands. “Okay. Two options.”

“One,” Shouko raises her index finger, “I heal you, point blank.” Itadori opens his mouth. Shouko continues before he can speak. “The pros is that you won’t be dying anymore. The cons is that we’re stopping whatever it is your cursed technique is reversing, and we have no idea what that entails.”

Shouko stares at him. Unless you have an idea what that entails, she doesn’t say. Itadori doesn’t open his mouth. She sighs, raising a second finger to follow the first one. “Two, I give you a temporary fix.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “The pros is that we don’t disturb the technique, and don’t have to deal with the unknown. The cons is that your death is only postponed, and not avoided. Essentially, the second option is making you a ticking time bomb.”

Shouko stares at Itadori. She hopes her exhaustion drives the point home. “If you choose the second one, you have a job: figure out why your technique is killing you, and stop it.”

Itadori inhales a shuddering breath. Exhale. Measured breaths, eyes closed, fingers white knuckling the wooden table. For once, Kugisaki and Fushiguro stay silent. She can hear their answer, the clear pick the first that they’re projecting to Itadori without so many words. Because that’s the rational, logical choice.

Because Itadori Yuuji defies all logic, he answers, “Okay. The second one. Please give me the temporary fix, Ieiri-sensei.”

Kugisaki scoffs. Fushiguro throws his face away. Shouko sighs, and steps forward to postpone the deadline of Itadori’s life.

“I’ll figure it out,” Itadori says. It’s unclear to whom he’s making this promise. Shouko tugs at the tangles of cursed energy.

“You better.” Kugisaki mutters. “You’re making this harder than it should be.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Fushiguro says. When the others turn to look at him, he crosses his arms and tilts his chin up. “You’ll let us help, won’t you?”

Itadori smiles helplessly. Kugisaki glares at him until he’s pressed to say, “Yeah. Yeah.”

Ah, youth.

Shouko smooths the last of the tangles. She doesn’t touch the storm in Itadori’s stomach. “Two weeks.” She steps back. “Figure out what you’re doing wrong in two weeks and stop it. Otherwise, I’m doing option one on you whether you like it or not.”

Itadori gulps. The other two on his sides stare at her with determination. Shouko yawns and moves to get out of the classroom. She wants that nap, like, thirty minutes ago.

“Thank you, Ieiri-sensei!” Itadori yells behind her. She raises a hand without looking back. For once, she hopes either Satoru or Yaga-sensei are in their offices so she can have someone to talk to.

Chapter Text

"I don't get it! Why are they so angry?"

Akari chuckles lightly. She leans on the car next to Itadori-kun, who runs a frustrated hand through his hair. They watch Kugisaki-chan storm into the convenience store. Fushiguro-kun trots gloomily behind her.

The both of them kicked Itadori-kun out from joining. Supposedly to "clear their heads after the mission". Kugisaki-chan's words, not Akari's. Itadori-kun is sulking because of it. Akari, personally, is just glad none of them are badly hurt. She'd choose petty squabbles over injured students any time of the day.

"Did something happen during the mission, Itadori-kun?" Akari asks. She hasn't had much chance to interact with the first years, but from what she heard and what little she saw of them, they usually are inseparable. It’s only been a few weeks since classes started, but the general consensus is that they became fast friends and are since attached by the hip. Today, though, when they came out of the barrier, it's with Itadori-kun being berated by Kugisaki-chan and glared at by Fushiguro-kun. Akari has no idea what brought this on. They started the mission without an issue.

“It went well, though.” Itadori-kun pouts. Akari kind of wants to squish his cheeks. Which is unprofessional, so she doesn’t. “We exorcised the curse. No one got hurt. I don’t get why they’re pissed off.”

"Well, I don't know about the not getting hurt part," Akari points out. She stares at the cut under Itadori-kun's eye. It's not deep, by any means. They already put a Pokémon bandaid from her car's dashboard over it, and that's basically all the first aid that they need.

Itadori-kun scratches at Pikachu. "What, this?" If anything, he looks even more upset. "Nitta-san, they can't seriously be mad over me getting a papercut!"

Akari smiles. "Maybe they just care about you like that." She gently pulls his hand down. Shallow as it is, it's better not to aggravate the wound. "They're just worried about you, probably."

Itadori-kun mellows. He scuffs his shoes on the sidewalk, looking forlornly at the convenience store. "I know they are. And it's not like I'm trying to make them worry more."

"How did you get hurt, anyway?"

Itadori-kun scratches his cheek again, but at least it's the uninjured one now. “The curse was aiming a hit at them, so I jumped in the way to deflect it,” he says. “It was kind of a rushed move, so I got scratched in the process.” He proceeds to shake his head. "I was a bit careless, but I'm fine! Besides, it's like, I'd rather it be me than them, y'know."

Akari does know what he's talking about. She also would rather it be her than Arata ever getting hurt. But she also knows how flawed that mindset is. Especially in their line of work. How frustrating, for both sides involved. "Well, I think you're gonna have to deal with them disagreeing with that, Itadori-kun."

Itadori-kun smiles, just as disagreeing. "It's true, though. They deserve to live more than me."

Akari closes her eyes for a bit. Dude, these kids are so fucked up. She's about to gain Ijichi-san levels of wrinkles too soon, at this point. Does she have to give Arata a lecture again? Her little brother is also in first year like Itadori-kun, though. Is it too late? "I don't think you can measure the worth of human lives like that, Itadori-kun."

Itadori-kun looks like he wants to protest further. But he ends up just shrugging.

Akari switches tactics. The thing about having a younger brother is that you learn to be creative to get through someone’s thick skull. "Don't you trust them? You know they're not weak."

“Oh, I know they’re plenty strong. And of course I trust them. But,” he pauses. “They’re not invincible. Someday, they’re gonna face an enemy stronger than them. And it’s just that I’d rather it be me than them that has to go through that.”

Akari hums. “You’d rather it be you… because you’re invincible?”

Itadori-kun scoffs. “Of course not.”

“Then? Isn’t it the same?” Akari rocks on her heels, clasping her hands behind her back. “None of you are invincible. You just get sent to another mission, fight your best, and try to make it out alive.” Such is the harsh job description in their line of work. “I’m not saying it’s wrong of you to want to protect them! Of course all of you should protect each other. It’s just that, I think they’d want you to let them protect you, too.”

They can now see Kugisaki-chan and Fushiguro-kun through the convenience store window, as they stand in front of the cashier. Kugisaki-chan hits Fushiguro-kun’s arm. They seem to be arguing about something. Itadori-kun leans on Akari’s car, looks at them from afar, and smiles. He shrugs and leaves the conversation there. Akari feels like she’s just lost an argument that she doesn’t have all the requirements to be participating in.

“Itadori.” The boy looks up from the remains of the curse that he just exorcised, a gory crater on the ground. “Did you just… do a Black Flash?”

“Oh,” he says, like he’s not aware Takuma’s jaw is trying to unhinge itself from his skull, “I guess I did?”

“You guess?” Takuma repeats, distressed. He dispels Ryuu as the beast finally exorcised the last of the curses. The small fries, because Itadori immediately charged for the biggest guy once the horde of curses made themselves known. Leaving Takuma to guard his back. Not that he minds! It's just that… he didn’t expect… “You do know what a Black Flash is, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Itadori flicks his fist to clean it. “I just thought it was the fastest way to get the job done.”

And he says it so casually. Like he didn't just do one of the highest achievements you can accomplish as a jujutsu sorcerer. One that sets your skill level different from most. One that Takuma hasn't managed to get a grip on yet. “You thought it was the fastest way to get the job done. So you just… did it.”

Itadori finally looks up at Takuma. His eyebrows furrow in earnest confusion. Takuma doesn't think Itadori is messing with him. He’s rattled anyway. “Yeah?”

“You also know that no one can do it by will, right?”

Itadori rubs the back of his neck, looking to the side. “Did I overdo it?”

Takuma removes his ski mask to fully let Itadori know how perplexed he is. Too bad Itadori is still looking away. Takuma is now having a hard time understanding why Nanami-san paired him up with Itadori for this mission. Clearly Itadori is capable enough on his own, despite only being a first year. If anything, Takuma should be the one learning from him. Wait, is that why Nanami-san paired him with Itadori…? It’s great to be able to see Black Flash in action, of course, but. Wow. What a terrible blow on his pride.

Takuma shakes his head. He’s being a terrible senpai. He finally remembers to respond to Itadori. “No, no, you did amazing. Great job.” Wait, that didn't come out very sincere, shit— “Let me treat you to something, Itadori!”

That's a normal thing to offer to a junior, right? Something senpais do? He's pretty sure Nanami-san treated him to lunch the first time they went on a mission together. And a few more times after that. But Nanami-san definitely always worded it more eloquently than Takuma just did.

The barrier is lowering around them. Itadori’s expression brightens along with the now visible blue sky. “Really? I don't wanna impose you, Ino-san.”

Maybe Takuma didn't word it that weird after all. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m the one who invited you, anyway. You have anything specific you wanna eat?”

Itadori has a skip to his step as he joins Takuma to exit the premises. “Then, I’ll be under your care! And anything’s fine with me.”

“Ooh, I heard this gyuudon place near here has some good reviews, I have it saved in my phone somewhere…”

Ijichi-san drives them to the place without much fanfare. He apologizes profusely for having to leave the two of them to their own, though, since he has other schedules he needs to attend to, or something. That’s also fine by Takuma. They’re now close enough to the school to catch a taxi without having to empty their wallets. Or, Takuma’s. Because he’s not going to make Itadori pay for the taxi either.

Speaking of Itadori…

“Say, Itadori, did you learn how to do Black Flash from Nanami-san?”

“Hmgh?” Itadori mumbles between chews. He swallows before he replies in something more comprehensible. “No, no, it wasn’t Nanamin.”

That… makes less sense, actually. Who else could it be? Takuma knows Gojou-san is Itadori’s teacher and he’s, like, undebatably, The Strongest, with capital first letters; but he’s also heard Nanami-san complain enough about the man that Takuma got the impression that he's not exactly… competent, at teaching. But he also would not say any of this out loud, from fear of both of the men. “Then?”

Itadori seems to think for a second, as he shovels more meat into his mouth. Is it supposed to be a secret, then? And if so, does he know it will only make Takuma curious, and make him press more?

“It was… a friend,” he settles on, hesitantly. Before Takuma can inquire further, with obvious follow-up questions like, yeah but who, he adds, “From the Kyoto school.”

“Ah,” Takuma ponders over his tea. Itadori just turns out to be more unfathomable the more he gets to know him. “How did you have contact with the Kyoto students already? The Goodwill Event hasn't started yet this year, right?”

“Erm, we met each other in an online forum.” He tells the story slowly. Intermittently, between deliberate chews. Takuma doesn't rush him. Doesn't feel the need to, exactly, though the reason why Itadori is so reluctant to share this still eludes him. “We found out we both are sorcerers, at some point. He told me some… tips, that I tried out, and actually worked.”

“Huh.” Nothing about the story is unusual, he thinks. Itadori didn't drop any names, so it must be that part that is supposed to be a ‘secret’, that makes him so hesitant to tell this. “He must be an amazing sorcerer.”

Itadori smiles, without the previous hem and haw. “He really is.”

Takuma copies his smiles, and picks up his meal to continue right where he left off. He should do well with some less prideful seniority and some more guiding each other to grow together, or something… Probably. At least that sounds significantly like something Nanami-san would say? “Think you could share some of those tips with me?”

Itadori laughs. “In exchange for this amazing lunch? Sure!”

Takuma joins his laugh. The next time he meets Nanami-san, he just might have something new to show off.

Yuuta lets his body melt into the worn curves of the lounge’s sofa, closing his eyes with a sigh. It's been a long day. Or, er, night? In any case, he's glad it's all over now. The jet lag is crashing back at him in exchange for his dissipating adrenaline. He did immediately jump into the fight as soon as his flight landed, and after that short briefing. He should've followed Maki-san’s lead and immediately headed to the living quarters to clean up and crash. Because now he doesn't feel like he has the energy to get up from his current spot and into his room. It's quite comfortable, anyway. It's probably fine to just sleep here…

“Whoa, Okkotsu-senpai? I didn't know you were around.”

His eyes fly open again. Standing on the entrance of the lounge is a boy he doesn't know. He wears training pants with a plain t-shirt, and he wipes his brow by pulling his shirt collar up. Yuuta glances at the wall clock. Back from a morning run, if he has to guess. Too young to be a teacher, and too relaxed to be an assistant manager or a staff member. A student, then, and as far as he knows there are no new students in the second and third year roster…

Rika-chan stirs under his skin, just short of expressing something like hissing. Just enough confirmation that the boy is, in fact, the new first year student, Itadori Yuuji.

“Ah, uh.” He seems to finally feel uncomfortable after all the minutes of Yuuta just staring at him. After all, he’s been told, numerous times by various people, about how unnerving his gaze is. “I’m Itadori Yuuji, by the way. Nice to meet you?”

Yuuta pats Rika-chan back down, and gives the younger student a smile. “Nice to meet you, Itadori-kun. Seems to me that you don't need me to introduce myself, though.”

“Everyone talks a lot about you.” Itadori-kun moves to the communal fridge, taking out a chilled water bottle. “Good things, of course! And the conversations made me think that you’ve been in Africa for a while.”

Not really truths, Rika-chan whispers at him. Weird. Not full truths, Yuuta. Which part? Which part hiding? He would like to know as well.

“Wow, Maki-san says good things about me?” Itadori-kun gives him a grin, letting Yuuta know that he knows the other’s personality well enough, at least. “And you're right, I just came back to Japan for a mission.”

“Oh,” Itadori-kun hums. There’s something carefully blank behind his gaze. “It went well?”

Never told him mission’s done, Rika-chan points out what Yuuta also noticed. Weird weird. Yuuta wants him gone?

No, Rika-chan, we’re fine for now, he tells her. She settles back into rest with a disappointed whine. He says, to Itadori-kun, “Yeah. It’s all done now.” No more brain-eating curses. Yuuta fulfilled his promise of keeping Gojou-sensei from ever needing to kill his old best friend with his own hands again. “Unless you have more we haven't tackled yet?”

Itadori-kun moves to sit across from him. He shakes his head. “As long as we keep the… cursed objects, all separated and safe, I don't think there's any immediate threat for now.”

Sukuna’s fingers, Yuuta thinks is what Itadori-kun means to say instead of the broad term of cursed objects. The thing that first brought Itadori Yuuji into their midst, and subsequently had him dismantle what according to Kenjaku was a centuries-long plan from the curse’s side.

“I feel bad, though,” Yuuta says, when Itadori-kun doesn't seem like he’s about to add anything else. Itadori-kun looks up and raises an eyebrow. “I feel like I’ve taken quite a lot of credit away from you.” He gives the boy an appropriately apologetic smile. “I’ve heard you're quite capable! I’d assumed you would want to have a hand in the final fight. I’m sorry that Gojou-sensei and the other sorcerers didn't include you in the plan.”

Partly because they knew it wouldn't fly with the higher-ups, really. Not that Gojou-sensei would care about that if he felt like they needed Itadori-kun there, but. Itadori-kun’s existence is on thin ice enough as it is. It’s even more literal, now, with what Ieiri-sensei unearthed about the nature of his cursed technique. That’s the other part of the reason: the adults didn't want to send an already dying boy into what could develop into a war. Yuuta is inclined to agree with them.

Itadori-kun twists the bottle cap under his fingers. “It would’ve been nice to… at least know that some direct measure was being carried out,” Itadori-kun admits. But then he shrugs, and looks up and meets Yuuta’s gaze with a genuine relief and happiness that surprises him. “But as long as the job’s done and everyone’s safe, I’m plenty content.”

Yuuta can't help but to smile back at him. “Train with me next time, then, Itadori-kun,” Yuuta invites, before he winces. This conversation didn't magically cure his exhaustion, after all. “Not soon, though. I’m still all sore.”

Itadori-kun laughs. He walks back to the fridge, before returning to put an unopened water bottle on the table in front of Yuuta. “Just say when, Okkotsu-senpai. Sorry for disturbing you, I’ll let you rest now!”

With that, he leaves the lounge, and Yuuta, back alone. For someone who has a deadline on his life, he sure has a pep to his step. Yuuta groans, laying back down and using the water bottle to compress his eyes. Rest, for now, then he’ll ask Maki-san dan Inumaki-kun for updates on everything else.

Atsuya rolls up his sleeves as he steps onto the training mat. Itadori is already in the middle of the training room, chatting animatedly with Panda, who is the only student free to accompany them. Ieiri skulks in the corner, a cigarette permanently fixed between her lips.

Ui Ui is also there, looking cranky as hell for being hired alone instead of as an extension of his sister. Atsuya’s not sure how much he’s paid to be here, and he’s not too keen to find out exactly what amount Gojou spent. For all that the siblings are capable, transactions with them always cost an exorbitant amount of riches.

Atsuya sighs. Ieiri got it in her head that Atsuya, with the help of Ui Ui’s technique, might be able to help figure out what the fuck is going on with Itadori. Which, personally, while he is sympathetic to the boy’s plight—trying to stay alive is something he can always get behind—the first year is not even his direct student. He’s Gojou’s. Clearly, not all of them can afford to be magnanimously helpful.

“Are we ready to start?” Ui Ui asks impatiently, cutting through Itadori and Panda’s chatter. Itadori glances between the kid and Atsuya with a nervous smile.

“Remind me what we’re here to do again?” he asks.

“Ui Ui will switch your souls.” Ieiri steps closer. “Kusakabe will try to find out what’s wrong with the cursed energy in your body. While you’re in Kusakabe’s, you can compare how it’s different to yours and see if you can also figure out anything.”

Itadori nods. “Okay. But we’re sure this won't stop the… reverse cursed technique-like thing, right?”

Ieiri takes a long drag of her cigarette. “Considering how long you’ve maintained it without much effort, I don't think so.”

Itadori shoots her a dubious look. She shrugs at his hesitation. “I seriously can't be sure, Itadori. We are here to find it out.”

“Okay. Okay.” Itadori steels himself. He gives Atsuya a grimace, which is the very picture of inspiring confidence. “I’ll leave it to you, Kusakabe-sensei.”

“I’ll try my best, I guess,” Atsuya drawls.

“Right,” Ui Ui says. Between all of them, he’s the one who looks the least like he wants to be here. He extends a hand to each of them. “I need your explicit consent to switch your souls, and a physical contact. Whenever you're ready, preferably soon.”

Both Atsuya and Itadori nod. Ui Ui steps forward, and his hands touch their forearms.

The world spins, forcing Atsuya to close his eyes. There's a tug, and when he opens them again, he’s looking up at his own face. Itadori twists his features to look back with an unsure smile.

Atsuya frowns, and takes stock of how he feels under Itadori’s skin. His muscles are all pulled taut, as if ready to spring into a fight at any given moment. He twists his neck here and there, trying to lessen the tenseness in his shoulders. It doesn't quite work, telling him just how rarely Itadori lets himself relax.

Cursed energy thrums with reflexive, practiced control even without Atsuya having to do much. It’s quite impressive, actually, for a first year to be this good. He clenches a fist, letting cursed energy flow forward. Itadori’s fist glows blue. Atsuya knows if he lets it hit a curse it would explode immediately.

“Try tapping the source,” Ieiri urges. Atsuya grumbles at her; yeah, yeah, he was about to do it.

He unclenches Itadori’s fist. He follows the flow of cursed energy back to its center. In Itadori’s stomach, as opposed to a storage of cursed energy that Atsuya is familiar with, is a hole. His eyebrows lift high in surprise. Instead of a reservoir filled with water that he channels through pipes, Itadori has a sinkhole. From… somewhere, on the other end of the sinkhole, Itadori pulls water up to use it.

He explains his findings to the others. Everyone is equally puzzled.

“Can you follow and see what's down the sinkhole?” Panda suggests.

“Well, can you promise my safety?”

No one speaks up. Figures. Well, it’s not that Atsuya expected anything different. If there's one thing they know to expect from Itadori, it's about how unpredictable he is.

Atsuya’s face, worn by Itadori, stays in its sorry grimace.

“Let’s see,” Atsuya says.

There's no way to be careful about this. He takes a deep breath, and dives into the reservoir, down the sinkhole. A tunnel stretches, deep and dark. Itadori’s cursed energy surges through, and he has to wade against the current. No cursed energy has a pleasant feel, but the deeper he goes, the more… He doesn't want to say malicious. Outside, Itadori’s cursed energy just feels like the average sorcerer’s. But further down here, something dark taints it. Something ominous stayed down there for a while before it left, and its shadow still sticks around.

And. The current is growing stronger. He can't see the end of the tunnel. There’s an abyss, and it’s pushing him back. He knows when to call a losing battle and when retreat is a strategic move. He resurfaces, and in the real world, shakes his head to the others’ expectant looks. And Ui Ui’s bored one.

Ieiri lights a new one after Atsuya finishes recounting his experience. “Switch back and have Itadori try the same thing.”

Ui Ui dispels his technique. Privately, Atsuya is so fucking glad to be back in his own body. He may have back pain and knee pain and other similar age-related pains, but at least those are problems that can be explained medically.

Itadori seems to be able to grasp what Atsuya did just from his explanation. He focuses for a few minutes. Alas, he also returns with a shake of his head.

“I feel the same. The current’s too strong.”

Ieiri snuffs out her barely smoked cigarette. Which never bodes well for anyone. “Well, nothing more we can do about it right now,” she says, in a tone that Atsuya knows is her scheming of a way to do something about it, later. “We need to enhance your technique to get through,” she says, which explains absolutely nothing. She then walks out, tapping away on her phone. Ui Ui follows her lead in packing up to leave without getting dismissed from his job.

“Um… now what?” Itadori asks.

Atsuya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ieiri will update Gojou anyway, and he just wants to also remove himself from the premises of this clusterfuck. “You can train with Panda or something. I’m going to nap this headache off.”

“I really owe you one for this, Utahime-senpai.”

Utahime looks at Shouko from the mirror, giving the younger woman a smile. She finishes tying her hair. “Are you counting your restraint to not smoke right now as the payment, Shouko?”

“And some beer later, maybe,” Shouko replies breezily. Utahime shakes her head fondly, following her lead to leave the room.

“You know I don't enjoy coming here because of the blindfolded idiot, Shouko. Don't you be a stranger.”

Shouko leads her from the changing room through the Tokyo campus. There’s not much too see, despite how it’s been awhile since she last visited. She keeps up some more small talk with Shouko, and before long, they arrive at the clearing. She nods at Nanami and Ijichi’s polite bow.

“And there she is, our great performer!” Utahime twitches at the loud crow. The biggest source of her stress stands in the middle of the clearing, an arm around the pink-haired boy. Gojou Satoru, as always, wastes no effort in being as infuriating as possible.

“Iori-sensei, thank you for coming all the way here.” Itadori Yuuji, at least, tries to bow from his position. Gojou’s arm just doesn't let him.

“Yuuji, no need for all that,” Gojou mock-whispers, which in his dictionary means speaking in an average normal-to-loud volume. “Just Utahime is fine.” Itadori shoots her a pained look, which tells her that at the very least, the student wouldn’t follow the teacher’s word on this. Good on him. Not so much on Gojou.

“You’re as rude as always,” Utahime tells the man with disdain.

“Gojou-san,” Nanami sighs. He doesn't wait for Gojou to spew more nonsense, just grabs him by the collar and untangles him from Itadori. He drags the man away while expertly ignoring his protests. There’s a reason Nanami is one of Utahime’s favorite junior, right after Shouko.

“Shall we start?” Utahime’s number one favorite junior tries to get them back on track.

“Yes,” Utahime agrees. She gives the clearly nervous Itadori a reassuring smile. “And it’s no trouble at all, Itadori. I will try my best to help, and I wish you the best of luck.”

They get into their positions. Ijichi erects a barrier around the clearing. They don’t really need to do it within Jujutsu Tech’s premises. But it’s not for the benefit of the people outside of the barrier, this time. This barrier, it’s for Itadori’s benefit. It’s always better to be safe than sorry, when you try to do things without alerting the higher-ups.

In this, Utahime wouldn't argue against Gojou.

With Nanami acting as Gojou’s leash, she can focus on charging up her technique. “I’ll start with just activating my cursed technique on you, Itadori,” she informs the boy. “You let me know how it goes. If it's not enough, I’ll escalate it and do the ritual.”

She waits for his confirmation. And with a deep breath, she opens her Innate Domain on Itadori.

Other than enhancing the technique of the sorcerer she targets, her technique enhances Utahime’s connection to that sorcerer. She feels the rush of Itadori’s cursed energy, the anomalous flow that Shouko has mentioned to her. Strange, indeed. She also notices the sinkhole Kusakabe has described. Itadori dips in, but resurfaces after a few moments. He meets her eyes, and shakes his head.

Shouko looks at her and nods her go ahead.

Utahime shifts her stance. The incantantations fall softly from her mouth. Her hands fly through their appropriate signs. Even without any music audible, she falls into step and eases into the dance. Cursed energy is everywhere: in the wind, under the sun, beneath the ground. She swirls them between the folds of her robes, whispers at them to resonate with Itadori Yuuji’s.

What a strange, strange boy indeed. A sorcerer who pops into existence one night, with a deep unknown well of cursed energy, and an overabundance of grief. A child who constantly pulls on that faraway cursed energy to keep something in reverse. Mysterious, but, so far, has proven himself to be nothing but well-meaning. Has swayed many to his favor, and none to wish for his death.

It was requested of her, but Utahime dances and sings to save this boy from her heart anyway.

Like this, she is blind to what is happening in the tangible world. What she does see, though, is Itadori retreating deep into himself, down that long winding tunnel within his stomach. She sees him reaching to touch the other side.

The darkness doesn't surge upwards. It pulls him in.

She finishes the ritual and opens her eyes back to the real world. Itadori Yuuji is laying crumpled on the ground.