Chapter Text
A little over a month has passed since Yuuta and Miguel arrived in Africa, and they are steadily adapting to their new, relatively independent life there.
Yuuta embraces the newfound freedom that his life in Africa offers. He often finds himself staying out late, seeking solace under the vast African sky just outside his new residence for the next year, or more . The constellations, as different as they are out here, quickly become his companions during these moments of solitude, just like they did back when it was him and Rika against the world.
This freedom, though liberating, often brings with it a sense of loneliness when Yuuta is left to his own devices. Away from the hustle and camaraderie of Jujutsu Tech that Yuuta had finally settled into, Yuuta often finds himself reflecting on the day he found out that everything was going to change.
Yuuta still remembers the emotional weight of that conversation, as Gojo leads him away from the others during a training session. His chest feels so tight, as if he had done something wrong and was going to get scolded for it. Toge’s curious gaze follows him as he’s taken aside, and Yuuta feels a sharp, jagged sensation twisting inside of him.
As Gojo outlines the details, Yuuta battles with a burning sensation in his throat, the struggle to keep his emotions in check nearly overwhelming as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Gojo does try his best to present the situation positively, assuring Yuuta that this is for the best, that it will make him stronger.
Despite Gojo's encouraging words, Yuuta can’t shake off the nagging doubt that there’s a hidden agenda behind his relocation. The thought that The Higher Ups might simply be trying to make the ‘problem’ of "Yuuta the former Special Grade, and Rika" disappear. This suspicion lingers in his mind, casting a shadow over the new life he had begun to build in Africa with Miguel.
Maki, fully aligned with Yuuta’s feelings, doesn’t hold back her frustration. "This is bullshit," she asserts, acknowledging Yuuta's release of Rika and rejecting any suggestion of him posing a threat. "They're just scared, the cowards," she continues, echoing Yuuta's suspicions about the true potential reasons behind his reassignment.
"Sujiko," Toge, ever the supportive friend, places a comforting hand on Yuuta's shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze.
Yuuta, trying to find a silver lining, nods in agreement with Toge. "You're right, Inumaki," he says, trying to sound cheerful. "It's only a year. Time will pass quickly, and I'll be back before we know it!" Despite his words, his actions betray his true feelings—a dejected kick at the ground, scuffing his shoe—reveals the true sadness he feels about the separation.
Toge, silently grateful that Yuuta isn't looking at him for once, struggles with his own emotions. Toge blinks rapidly, attempting to clear the tears that threaten to spill over, his own head bowing as he burrows further into his scarf, seeking solace in its warmth. His lower lip trembles, betraying the effort it takes to maintain composure in front of his friend.
Toge's hand reaches out, seeking Yuuta's. The unexpected touch initially startles Yuuta, causing his shoulders to jump. However, he quickly relaxes into the comfort offered, responding with a gentle squeeze of Toge's hand. Their fingers intertwine.
Yuuta lifts his head, his face breaking into a bright, toothy smile even as tears stream down his cheeks.
They are best friends, intertwined by experiences and understanding that go beyond words. No decree from The Higher Ups, regardless of the distance they intend to impose on them, can diminish the strength of their connection.
It’s only a year…
With no one around to hold him accountable, Yuuta's newfound freedom occasionally leads him to overlook his basic needs, a pattern he remembers all too well from his days pre-Jujutsu Tech. But now, without even Rika's genuine spirit to keep him company, the loneliness feels heavier on his soul. There are nights when he skips meals from sheer exhaustion, and mornings when he wonders if he even slept at all. But as long as he can fulfill his duties and exorcise the curses needed, he reassures himself that everything is alright.
After completing a particularly grueling solo mission, Miguel returns home, the first hints of dawn coloring the sky. Approaching the front door, his attention is drawn to a figure a short distance away. It's Yuuta, fast asleep against the base of a tree, still in his uniform from the day before.
As Miguel steps closer, he feels a subtle yet unmistakable sensation — Yuuta's unfiltered cursed energy — gently grazing his toes, a raw and untamed energy.
Miguel bends down beside Yuuta, observing him closely. The dark circles under Yuuta's eyes are striking. He can't help but wonder — is it all in his head, or have they gotten worse?
" Up we go ," Miguel murmurs softly to himself as he carefully positions his arms under Yuuta's shoulders and knees, lifting him with ease. He's taken aback by how light Yuuta feels; the baggy white jacket he wears is quite misleading.
As Miguel turns to head inside, Yuuta stirs slightly in his arms, instinctively curling in towards the older man's warmth. Navigating the doorway with a slight bend in his knees, Miguel carries Yuuta to his bedroom.
Once there, he gently lays Yuuta down on the bed, taking care to cover him with the light blanket that had been kicked to the foot of the bed. As he prepares to leave, Miguel can't help but notice the state of Yuuta's room. It's been over a month since their arrival, yet the room remains almost empty. The desk holds only a phone charger and a 4x6 photo, showing Yuuta with his Jujutsu Tech classmates, its edges showing signs of wear. The absence of personal items, family mementos, or any cozy decorations is almost dramatic. The room lacks the warmth of a space that feels like home.
Although, he shouldn’t be surprised. Miguel recalls Yuuta getting on the plane with just a single duffel bag and his wide, innocent eyes.
About to leave the room, Miguel spots scattered paperwork on the desk, including Yuuta's passport. The details stand out — his name, date of birth. Miguel frowns as it sinks in: Yuuta, sent halfway around the world on a mission , is only 16 years old. The life of a Jujutsu sorcerer is often harsh, especially for the young. It's always a pity to see them bear such burdens too early in life.
Miguel has a moment of realization. Yuuta is about the same age as Mimiko and Nanako, Geto's two girls. This comparison brings a flood of memories, reminding him of the time he spent around them and how much care and attention they needed. He remembers their innocence, their youthfulness, and the protective environment they required.
Miguel's eyes soften as he turns back to look at Yuuta, now asleep in bed. A wave of a new understanding and perhaps a sense of responsibility washes over him. It's a quiet acknowledgment of Yuuta's vulnerability, a recognition of the fact that despite his abilities as a sorcerer, Yuuta is still just a kid , one who needs support and care.
Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose in a moment of frustration. "Gojo, what are you doing?" he mutters quietly to himself, a hint of exasperation in his voice. Shaking his head slightly, he decides to head to the kitchen, intending to grab a quick bite before he too succumbs to sleep.
As he opens the fridge, the reality of their living situation becomes glaringly obvious. All the food inside has been bought by him. Miguel's eyes scan the contents, and a concerned frown forms on his face. What exactly has Yuuta been eating? Or, more worryingly, has Yuuta been eating at all ?
Miguel tilts his head and lets out a resigned sigh. Initially, he had planned on a quick snack followed by some much-needed rest for the remainder of the morning. However, his concern for Yuuta shifts his plans. Instead of reaching for something quick and easy, he decides to cook a proper meal.
He begins to gather the necessary ingredients from around the kitchen — beef, potatoes, ginger. He then selects cinnamon and a few other spices, all the essentials for a hearty cape malay curry. As he prepares and cooks, the kitchen fills with the rich, inviting aroma of the dish.
An hour later, with the sun now fully risen, Miguel sits down to eat a bowl of the curry he's prepared. The flavors are a comforting end to his long night. After finishing his meal, he wraps up the remaining curry and stores it in the fridge, intending it for Yuuta. The dishes he leaves in the sink, deciding to deal with them later.
Miguel then searches through a few drawers, looking for something to write on. Finding a scrap of paper, he scribbles a note for Yuuta and leaves it on the counter where it can't be missed.
Finally ready to rest, Miguel heads to his own room. He tosses his hat onto the dresser and his shirt to the floor. He closes the blinds, shutting out the daylight, and as soon as his head hits the pillow, sleep overtakes him, a well-earned rest after a long night and a morning spent caring for his young companion.
Yuuta wakes up, instinctively bracing for the usual aches and pains that come from sleeping outdoors. To his surprise, however, the anticipated discomfort in his neck and shoulders is absent. Instead, he feels the softness of a comfortable mattress beneath him. Startled, his eyes snap open and he quickly sits up, the abrupt movement causing a wave of dizziness. He rubs his face with his hands, trying to orient himself.
Realization dawns on him —Miguel must have brought him inside .
In a more awake state, Yuuta might have felt a flush of embarrassment at this thought, but for now, he just stretches and rubs his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. His stomach growls, a stark reminder that he forgot to eat the day before.
‘ Forgot ’ wasn't quite the right term for what happened. It was more a conscious decision on Yuuta's part not to venture into town for food after returning from his mission. He had spent a long morning battling a handful of Grade 2 curses, and by the time he got home, shortly after noon, he was just too exhausted to think about food. That was when he received a text from Toge, hoping Yuuta was having a good day, accompanied by a selfie of Toge with his pancake dinner, complete with a chocolate syrup frown for missing Yuuta.
The message hit Yuuta harder than he expected. A lump formed in his throat as he fought back a sob. With his flip phone in hand, quickly begins typing a response. His fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, crafting a message back to Toge. He writes that he had a great day and that he misses him too, so much —misses everyone, in fact.
Yet, as he’s typing the message, Yuuta knows it's not the whole truth. He didn't have a good day. In fact, it's been quite some time since he's genuinely had what he could call a 'good day'. The challenges of this new life in Africa, the distance from his friends, and the constant strain of his responsibilities to reign in his cursed energy weigh heavily on him.
Yuuta hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keypad of his flip phone. There's a deep urge within him to type out more, to divulge the reality of his feelings. He wants to tell Toge the truth about everything — how he's really coping, the struggles he's facing in this new environment, far away from everything familiar.
He doesn’t elaborate. He hits send.
The desire to be back home is overwhelming. It had been so many years since he had felt like he had a place to call home, he doesn’t think Africa will ever be a comfort to him.
He misses the camaraderie of being a part of a team, and the simple joys of their friendships — like the late-night movie nights with Toge. Even though Toge often chose scary movies, Yuuta still found comfort in those moments. Even when he would spend half the movie with his face buried in Toge's shoulder, seeking refuge from the jump scares.
He even longs for the days when Maki would teasingly call him a 'blubbering fool' as he opened up about his thoughts and feelings. Even though she berated him for being so open, she always listened to him .
Yuuta’s stomach growls again .
The sound brings him back to the present.
Yuuta discards the blanket from his lap and stands up. He pats his pockets, searching for his phone, which he promptly finds and plugs in to charge on his desk. He then shifts to finding something more comfortable to change into after a much-needed shower.
Realizing he's slept in until almost midday, Yuuta opts for light and casual attire to suit the day's peak heat — a white t-shirt and shorts seem like the best choice. The sun is already high in the sky, promising a warm day ahead.
As he gathers his clothes, Yuuta considers going into town. He's generally keen on keeping his distance from Miguel, not wanting to impose or disrupt the older man's routine. However, under the current circumstances, making the hour-long journey on foot would be impractical, if not downright irresponsible.
He sighs.
Fresh from his shower, Yuuta walks into the kitchen to get something to drink. He fills his glass and is about to take a sip when something catches his eye — a note left by Miguel. Setting the glass down, Yuuta's curiosity is piqued.
The message is simple and to the point. Following the note's cue, Yuuta opens the fridge door. Inside, he finds a container waiting for him. It's a kind and thoughtful gesture, one that Yuuta wasn't expecting.
Yuuta's expression shifts as he stands there, looking at the bowl of curry in the fridge. His lips purse together, his face scrunching up slightly. It's a mix of confusion and a touch of surprise.
Only a few months ago, Miguel had been on the opposite side, part of the team that posed a threat to him and his friends. While Miguel might not have been the leader of that group, the idea of them developing a friendship during this trip had seemed far-fetched to Yuuta.
Yuuta grapples with these conflicting feelings. Part of him wants to maintain the distance, to protect himself from potential hurt or betrayal. But another part of him — perhaps the part that's tired of fighting, of being on edge — wants to embrace this small olive branch.
Yuuta finds Miguel in the common room, engrossed in a book. He stands there for a moment, trying to find the right words.
"Uh," he starts, his voice trailing off as he hesitates. Miguel places the book in his lap and turns his attention to Yuuta. Seeing this, Yuuta gathers a bit more courage, though his hands still twist together nervously. "Thank you, Miguel. For uhm, this morning, and also for lunch?"
Miguel pauses for a beat before responding, his smile emerging slowly. "Of course," he says, his voice carrying a warmth that wasn't there before. "Us men have to look out for each other out here, hmm?"
"Yeah, I mean, sure ?" Yuuta responds, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.
Miguel's eyebrow arches in response, picking up on Yuuta's hesitance. "You're acting like you're not used to having someone look out for you?" he probes gently, resting to lean over the side of the chair facing Yuuta more, ‘ Interesting…’
"Oh, uh, I mean — of course I am, why wouldn't I be? That's weird ," he responds, attempting to deflect with a chuckle. As he speaks, he scratches the back of his neck. His fingers twist and tangle in the small hairs at his nape.
Yuuta can't quite pinpoint why he feels so on edge; after all, Miguel's actions have been nothing but kind and supportive. Yet, Yuuta can't help but feel a bit out of his element.
It's not Miguel's physical presence that intimidates Yuuta but rather the contrast between Miguel's outward confidence and his own internal turmoil, the sense of inadequacy leaves Yuuta grappling with how to act around Miguel.
Despite these feelings, Yuuta is slowly coming to realize that Miguel's intentions are genuine, offering him a glimpse of what it means to have someone truly looking out for his well-being.
"Uh huh," Miguel's lips curve into a knowing grin, clearly not convinced by Yuuta's awkward attempt at assurance.
With a playful gesture, he points first at his own eyes with his index and middle finger, then at Yuuta's, and finally down towards a nearby chair. "Sit, eat , talk," he commands gently.
Yuuta takes slow, measured strides towards the chair and sits down, his shoulders instinctively tensing up near his ears. He glances towards Miguel, seemingly in search of further guidance or approval. "Well eat up," Miguel commands with a playful bark in his tone. "You don't want it getting cold on ya, now."
Yuuta's gaze shifts from Miguel to the food in front of him. Tentatively, he brings a spoonful to his mouth and the instant the flavors hit his tongue, " Mmm ," escapes his lips, a groan of pure pleasure. It's the first time in a long while that he's had a meal this nutritious, delicious, and warm. Encouraged, he takes a few more spoonfuls, and gradually, his shoulders begin to relax, settling more comfortably into the chair.
Despite his stomach protesting the sudden intake after being empty for so long — almost to the point of pain — Yuuta continues to eat. The pain is a minor inconvenience compared to the satisfaction of filling his body with something so comforting and needed.
As Yuuta focuses on the meal in front of him, he forgets Miguel's presence in the room. He eagerly devours the food. A few stray drops of sauce linger on his lips, which he quickly licks away, savoring every bit of the flavor. It's only after this instinctive gesture that Yuuta remembers he's not alone. Suddenly self-conscious, he snaps his head up, his eyes quickly finding Miguel again.
"So, Okkotsu, I've been curious. That's not a sorcerer family line if I recall, so how does your family feel about you being all the way out here in Africa?" Miguel inquires, his voice carrying a mix of genuine curiosity and... concern ?
Yuuta feels the tension creep back into his shoulders at the unexpected direct line of questioning. "Uhm," he begins, his eyes darting around, avoiding Miguel's steady gaze. "They're fine with it," he eventually offers, his voice slightly higher than normal.
"They're fine with it?" Miguel echoes, his tone laced with disbelief.
Yuuta hastens to clarify, albeit awkwardly. "I mean, I'm sure they'd be fine with it if they knew . They'd probably be happy about it, to be honest." He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "After everything happened with Rika, they didn't really know how to handle me? It was a lot. The priority was obviously to keep my little sister safe, so I had to go away, far away. And uh... I don't know if I could go much farther away than this, so...."
As Yuuta shrugs, there's a noticeable detachment in his voice. The words have been repeated in his mind so often that they feel hollow even to him.
Miguel, presses further. "Haven't you had Rika for a long time, Okkotsu?"
Yuuta doesn't respond.
Miguel's tone hardens slightly, seeking clarity. "How long has it been since your parents kicked you out of the house to keep your sister safe ?"
Visibly shrinking into himself, Yuuta murmurs, "I was ten?" The admission is soft, almost lost.
Miguel is visibly frustrated as he stands up, his hand momentarily raised as if to throw his book down. However, after taking a deep, calming breath, he instead places the book carefully on the table in front of him. He then takes a few steps towards Yuuta and kneels down next to his chair, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
Gently, Miguel takes the bowl from Yuuta's hands, setting it aside on the table as well. With nothing left to occupy his hands, Yuuta's fingers quickly find each other, nervously picking at his cuticles. He swallows hard, a lump forming in his throat as he finally forces himself to meet Miguel's gaze.
"That must have been really hard, huh?" Miguel's words are soft, almost humorously so, considering the gruff timbre of his voice.
Yuuta quickly pulls his eyes away. He can already feel his defenses crumbling just by acknowledging it. He’s so weak. Yuuta bites his bottom lip, in a futile attempt to stave off the tears threatening to spill. His shoulders begin to shake with the effort of holding back his emotions, the years of accumulated hurt and isolation suddenly pressing down on him with the unbearable weight of simply having someone try to look at the damage .
A sense of unworthiness washes over him. He doesn't deserve this compassion, this understanding. After all, it was Yuuta himself who had cursed Rika, it was his own actions that had terrified his family, driving them to distance themselves from him.
Miguel, sitting there with concern etched on his face, has no real understanding of the depth of Yuuta's crimes. He doesn't see the monster Yuuta truly is. Yuuta opens his mouth, because Miguel should know that—
"Yuuta, it wasn’t your fault."
Yuuta turns his head to look at Miguel, ignoring the tears that have welled up in his eyes. The idea that to be understood fully might mean to be abandoned again sits heavy in his chest.
Yuuta pushes himself out of the chair, distancing himself from Miguel. "I'm the only one to blame here. We were at the park for my birthday, and when she died, it was my will that cursed her, that tethered her to me. It was all because I was too selfish to let her go. Gojo has already broken it down for me," he explains, his voice strained with the weight of his reality.
He turns to face Miguel again, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as if they could shield him. His foot bounces anxiously. “So with all due respect,” Yuuta continues, the words coming out with a hint of bitterness, though it's directed more at himself than at Miguel, "if you don’t think it was my fault, then whose was it?"
Miguel has never been fond of children. Their loudness, their messiness, and their constant neediness have always rubbed him the wrong way. His experiences with Geto's two girls, Nanako and Mimiko, only reinforced this sentiment. They were quite the handful—spoiled, frequently whining about one thing or another. Even on their best days, when they managed to behave themselves, Miguel still found them to be brats.
It was clear: Miguel didn't like taking care of kids .
But when Miguel looks at Yuuta, his perspective shifts. He sees beyond the façade of a special grade sorcerer and doesn't see the typical childlike traits that usually distance him from younger individuals. He sees someone who has been forced into strength, not out of desire but out of necessity. Yuuta hasn't asked for anything since they arrived; he's accustomed to relying solely on himself, carrying the weight of his world on his shoulders with a quiet resilience.
At the same time, Miguel can't help but see the fear that lingers beneath the surface—reminiscent of a small boy lost and alone, seeking shelter under shop umbrellas during a rainstorm with no warm bed to return to.
Oh yes, Miguel was very familiar with the story of the Special Grade Curse, Rika Orimoto. Geto had fixated on it— on her —for weeks leading up to The Night Parade. He recounted the tale of a tragic hit-and-run, an event that cut short the life of a girl referred to dismissively as a "useless monkey." Yet, this very incident catalyzed the emergence of extraordinary power in a special grade sorcerer, giving rise to the Queen of Curses herself.
It was easy to interpret the story through Geto's narrative; straightforward, devoid of any emotional entanglement. Geto's retelling was clinical, almost detached, focusing on the outcomes rather than the human element involved. This perspective allowed Miguel to remain emotionally distant, viewing the events as mere points on the broader spectrum of jujutsu history and power dynamics.
However, with Yuuta physically present in front of him, bearing that ring, the perspective shifts dramatically. Here stands a boy who has been trying to make amends for losing a childhood friend, a fiancée. All Geto could see was the potential power of strength alone, but all Miguel sees now is the power of raw human emotion, the embodiment of love and devotion. The human connection that was missing from Geto’s grand plan. The lives of the sorcerers it was meant to save.
Miguel wants to take care of Yuuta.
“So with all due respect — if you don’t think it was my fault, then whose was it ?"
“Have you considered, I don’t know , maybe the driver responsible for the hit and run?” Miguel responds plainly, aiming to direct Yuuta's focus towards a more logical source of blame.
Yuuta's expression tightens, his brows furrowing as he clings to blame that was thrust upon him years prior. “But he was just driving. It was Rika who... She shouldn’t have been on the road still . It was my responsibility to look out for her, I was supposed to hold her hand , she was just a kid—”
“And so were you, just a kid,” Miguel interjects firmly.
Yuuta shakes his head, a mix of denial and desperation in his voice. "No, you don't understand. It has to be my fault. If it isn't, then... then all these years— But I should've —" Yuuta tries again, the weight of his guilt threatening to choke his words.
"Should've what, Yuuta? Predicted the future? Saved the world ?" Miguel interrupts gently. "Shit, you were just a child, Yuuta. You've been carrying a weight that was never meant for your shoulders."
Yuuta's defenses begin to crumble under the kindness and understanding in Miguel's words. Tears start to well up in his eyes, spilling over as the reality of his words sinks in.
As Yuuta's emotions spike, his cursed energy begins to manifest visibly around him, a tangible sign of his distress. The energy flows outwards, swirling with an intensity that mirrors his inner turmoil. It's a powerful, almost palpable force, charged with the raw, unbridled emotion that Yuuta struggles to contain within himself.
Miguel, standing close, doesn't flinch or show any sign of intimidation at this sudden display of Yuuta's power. However, he can't ignore the weight of it, the way it seems to press down on his shoulders, a heavy blanket of pressure that acknowledges the strength of the cursed energy Yuuta wields. Despite the force bearing down on him, Miguel's resolve doesn't waver. His concern for Yuuta's well-being outweighs any discomfort the energy might cause him.
" But I was supposed to protect her —" Yuuta's voice cracks, raw with emotion, as his fingers twist his shirt, pulling the fabric so taut that Miguel wouldn't be surprised if it tore under the strain. For so long , he's viewed himself through the lens of guilt and blame, unable to see himself beyond the role of the villain in Rika’s, and his own , story.
"Yuuta, how were you supposed to protect anyone when you were just a child yourself? Your only job was to grow up, to be happy and healthy. The adults in your life, they were the ones responsible," Miguel counters gently, trying to shift Yuuta's perspective on the burden he's carried.
Tears start to break through Yuuta's defenses, streaming down his cheeks as Miguel's words begin to dismantle the foundation of blame he's built around himself. For years, Yuuta had internalized the blame, casting himself as the villain in his own story, unable to see past his own misplaced guilt.
Miguel pulls Yuuta into a hug, though it's a stiff one. It's clear that Miguel isn't accustomed to giving hugs; he can't even recall the last time he embraced someone like this. Despite the initial awkwardness, the gesture fulfills its intended purpose. Yuuta's hands, which had been clenched tightly around his own shirt before, now grasp Miguel's with a desperate intensity.
Miguel is enveloped in a mixture of awkwardness and determination. Despite not being naturally inclined to physical displays of affection, he feels a strong desire to offer comfort to this kid, this poor fuckin' kid.
There's a hint of uncertainty in Miguel— am I doing this right? —yet, underlying it all is a steadfast resolve to be there for Yuuta, no matter how unfamiliar the territory may be.
Miguel gently pats Yuuta on the back as he holds Yuuta tight. Slowly, the tension in Yuuta's body begins to ease, his grip on Miguel's shirt loosening as the flood of emotions starts to subside. The room falls into a quiet calm, the only sound being Yuuta as he tries to slow his breathing, the odd hiccup escaping.
As the immediate intensity of the moment fades, Miguel slowly loosens his embrace, giving Yuuta the space to compose himself. Yuuta takes a step back, wiping the remnants of tears from his cheeks.
Miguel clears his throat, breaking the silence. "You uh... You good?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of concern mixed with an offer of continued support, should Yuuta need it.
Yuuta, still processing the rush of emotions and the comfort of Miguel's embrace, manages a shaky smile in return and a nod, a silent thank you.
"How about we get some fresh air, maybe head into town?" he suggests, aiming to lighten the mood and offer Yuuta a change of scenery.
Yuuta, still finding his bearings after the emotional outpour, nods in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds good," he manages to say, his voice steadier than he expects.
They gather their things and get ready to go. They walk side by side heading to Miguel’s vehicle, settling into a comfortable silence that's broken when Miguel looks over at Yuuta with a playful smirk. "So, I'm willing to bet that that idiot never taught you about how to access your financial database on your phone, huh?" he asks, half-teasing, half-serious.
Yuuta looks up at Miguel with wide eyes, confusion evident on his face. "My what ?"
"Yeah, that's what I figured," Miguel chuckles. Miguel casually slings an arm over Yuuta's shoulder. "Well, let's fix that today. It's about time you learned some of these basics," he declares, a hint of determination in his voice.
Prompted by Miguel's suggestion, Yuuta pulls his phone out of his pocket to show him, but it's an old flip phone, clearly not equipped for the kind of app Miguel is likely talking about. Seeing the outdated device, Miguel can't help but make a face, a mix of surprise and bemusement crossing his features. "We'll make sure to hit up that internet cafe, too," he says, quickly adapting the plan to accommodate the technological gap.
Yuuta can't keep down his sheepish smile, appreciating Miguel's flexibility and the effort he's making to guide him through these modern necessities he's missed out on. It's a small adventure in itself, and for the first time in a long while, Yuuta feels a spark of excitement about learning something new.