Work Text:
October 31st had come and gone. It was an easy battle. A miracle; the gods of fate must have blessed them. No casualties from their side. Gojo-sensei killed his best friend, again, and that was the end of it. Yuuji was relieved, to say the least. He could think of worse ways it could have gone. Then came November, and with it, ten more fingers. December brings three more. Five plus ten plus three is-
* * *
It’s study hall, and Yuuji is staring at the paper on his desk, which might as well have been written in some alien language. Why do they teach math at a school for sorcerers? It’s not like I’ll use it against curses. Unless there’s a math cursed spirit. Yuuji shudders at the thought. Nanamin’s technique involves math, doesn’t it? Maybe Yuuji should ask Nanami for help. He’s never been the best at math, and this unit is killing him. Yuuji’s pleading for the logarithmic function on his worksheet to just tell him its solution when a shock of white hair appears in the doorway. “Oi, Itadori,” the sorcerer calls, “come to my office.”
“Ooooooooooo,” Kugisaki cackles. “Someone’s in trouble.”
Fushiguro gives him a disapproving look. “X is equal to negative one and sixteen.”
Itadori scribbles the answers to the function on the paper, not bothering to show his work. “I owe you one, Fushiguro,” he calls over his shoulder as he follows Gojo out the door.
“Math, huh?” Gojo chatters as they walk down the hallway. “You should ask Nanamin.”
Yuuji nods at Gojo’s suggestion. “Yeah, I was gonna. Do you think he’ll tutor me?”
“Of course he will. He adores you, Itadori.”
Yuuji smiles at that. Nanamin does have a certain gruff fondness for him which he hates to show, but at the same time, makes sure everyone is aware of it.
They arrive in front of his office. Gojo opens the door and strolls in. He motions for Yuuji to take a seat in the expensive chair he has. His teacher strolls behind his desk, and rummages through the drawers. When he can’t find what he’s looking for right away, Gojo starts digging furiously, throwing things over his shoulder. Yuuji watches a pair of chopsticks clatter to the ground, three stuffed dolls hit the wall with pained squeaks, and a whole flower arrangement that must have been a gift spill onto the floor. He ducks instinctively, narrowly avoiding a textbook that was flying his way. It’s a math textbook. Gojo must have done that one intentionally.
“Ah ha! Found it!” Gojo holds his prize up triumphantly.
It’s a small, slender box. Yuuji vaguely remembers seeing a similar one, but can’t quite place what it is or where he’s seen one before.
“Sorry about the wait,” his sensei laughs, completely ignoring the mess of items scattered behind him. He sets the box down on his desk. “Now…” Gojo wiggles his fingers over the box.
A finger.
His heart drops.
“What are we at?” Gojo starts counting on his fingers. “Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”
Gojo lifts the nineteenth finger out of the box.
Distantly, Yuuji wonders if it tastes different from the other eighteen. No amount of brushing or mouthwash could help get the taste out of his mouth.
“If you eat this, you can never go back,” Gojo looks at him intently, “Itadori.”
Though Gojo has his blindfold on, Yuuji can still feel the piercing gaze of his Six Eyes. Yuuji stares at the floor, unable to look at his teacher. He would do anything to be anywhere else but here. He was expecting to be scolded for falling asleep in class; he could deal with a stern lecture, even if it was from the Gojo Satoru. Gojo isn’t lecturing him now, but warning him. Yuuji keeps quiet.
“You can beg and scream, but you can never go back, Yuuji. You understand?”
What Gojo is saying is true. Yuuji will never be able to go back, and he knows it. He’s known it from the moment he ate the first finger.
“So, you still gonna eat it?”
His teacher grins at him and offers him the finger, wagging it in front of his face.
Screw it.
Yuuji grabs it and swallows it whole. The nail scrapes his throat as it goes down, making him flinch, but he gets it down in the end. The nineteenth finger of Ryomen Sukuna leaves a foul taste in his mouth, like all the rest.
Gojo grins widely.
Then he realizes something, and his expression drops into one of horror. He facepalms, sliding his hand down his face, then slaps his own cheek. “Silly, silly, silly,” he mutters. He turns to Yuuji with a sheepish grin. “Itadoriiiii, please don’t get mad at me.”
Yuuji’s confused, to say the least. The great Gojo Satoru just slapped himself in the face. “Sensei? What’s wrong?”
“Promise you won’t get mad at me?”
Yuuji nods once.
“Before you ate the finger, I should have mentioned,” Gojo winces, “eating it means I have to give you the last one tomorrow and then execute you.”
Gojo slaps himself again.
Yuuji bursts out laughing. “You’re joking, sensei,” he chokes out, near tears. “That was… that was a good joke.”
Gojo watches him laugh solemnly. “Tomorrow is…” Gojo mutters, voice trailing off. “Tomorrow is such short notice,” he finishes, but Yuuji doesn’t hear him through his chuckles. Gojo adjusts his blindfold and runs a hand through his hair, but despite his efforts, it still looks the same as before. He rests a gentle hand on his favorite student’s shoulder. Yuuji stops laughing, and looks up at his teacher, questions in his eyes. Gojo smiles softly and says, “Yuuji. Go find Fushiguro and Kugisaki. No homework tonight.”
Yuuji gapes at him. He must not have heard Gojo correctly. A no-homework night? That means no logarithmic functions and a full night of sleep. “Thank you!” he cheers, clapping his hands together. He bows to the white-haired man and starts walking to the door.
“Yuuji?”
He turns around to face his teacher. “Gojo-sensei?”
“It wasn’t a joke,” Gojo smiles again, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m sorry.”
* * *
He returns to the classroom alone.
“So, Itadori,” Kugisaki sidles up to him upon his entrance. “What did you do this time, huh?”
Yuuji grabs his backpack, and stuffs his worksheet inside it. “We can go,” he says hollowly. “Early release. And a no-homework night.”
Fushiguro looks up from his book, having already finished his worksheet. “We?” he questions.
“The three of us can go.” Yuuji avoids looking at either of his friends.
Kugisaki whoops, runs back to her desk, and starts throwing things into her bag.
Fushiguro closes his book and sets it on his desk. “You’re not joking, are you?” he asks suspiciously.
“Who cares?” Kugisaki rolls her eyes. “Let’s leave.”
She grabs Fushiguro’s arm, and pulls. The boy sighs, and gets up to pack his bag. He allows himself to be dragged out of the classroom by a gleeful Kugisaki. Yuuji silently follows them out.
They don’t know, and he’d like to keep it that way.
* * *
They end up in a small cafe not far from the school. It’s late in the afternoon - they’ve already eaten lunch, but Kugisaki and Fushiguro are in the mood for drinks and Yuuji is in the mood for a distraction. They’ve just sat down with their drinks, Kugisaki with warm milk tea, and Fushiguro with hot black coffee, when the bell above the door jingles and a familiar face strides in.
“Itadori? Gojo told me I would find you here,” Nanami glances at his watch, “he said you have something to tell me.”
“Ah, about that…” Yuuji shifts in his seat. He can guess why Gojo sent Nanami. “I need help with my homework,” Yuuji lies. Okay, it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.
Nanami sighs. “Show me.”
“I left it at school,” he says. Now, that’s a lie. The worksheet’s in his backpack, but he’s not telling Nanami here. Not in front of Kugisaki and Fushiguro.
Nanami sighs again. Somehow, he sounds more tired than before. “Let’s go get it.”
Yuuji shrugs on his bag and slides out of the booth. “I’ll be right back, guys!”
Fushiguro eyes him as he goes, and Kugisaki watches him over her milk tea, but neither of them say anything to stop him.
The door jingles again as he leaves with Nanami.
Yuuji doesn’t say a word on the walk back to Jujutsu High. He’s too busy trying to figure out how to break the news to Nanami. Should I tell him straight out? No, I don’t know if Nanamin’s heart could handle it. I don’t want him to drop dead from shock. That would be bad. I guess I could get Gojo-sensei to tell him if I asked, but he obviously wants me to tell Nanamin myself. Or at least try to tell Nanamin.
“You’re awfully quiet, Itadori,” Nanami remarks. “Is something wrong?”
“Uhm… I’m just- it’s nothing,” Yuuji cringes. “I’m fine.”
It’s obvious Yuuji’s lying, but Nanami doesn’t press further, not until they’ve reached Jujutsu High.
“Itadori,” Nanami says, stopping them when they’ve reached Yuuji’s classroom, “What was the true reason you wanted to talk to me? I assume it wasn’t the homework.”
“I’m- Nanamin- I,” he tries, but he can’t bring himself to say the words.
“It’s something you wouldn’t like Fushiguro and Kugisaki to know, correct?” Nanami realizes, putting the pieces together. “The reason you’ve been quiet.”
“I’m gonna die tomorrow,” Yuuji blurts, not looking at Nanami. “My execution, it's tomorrow.”
Nanami doesn’t respond. For a brief second, Yuuji fears the older sorcerer really did die of shock.
“I- I- um,” Yuuji panics. “It’s- uh… it’s not- it’s not a joke.”
Nanami clenches his jaw. “I didn’t assume it was.”
Yuuji tells him everything. How Gojo called him into his office, how he ate the finger, how he, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki are free for the rest of the day, and how he isn’t planning on telling them.
When Yuuji finishes his story, Nanami shakes his head. “Stay here,” he tells Yuuji curtly, and gets up to leave.
“Nanamin? Where are you going?”
The man doesn’t turn around, still heading for the door. “I’m going to find him,” he replies calmly, but Yuuji picks up on the anger burning underneath his words. “I’m going to ask him to postpone your execution.”
“Nanamin-”
“No,” the older sorcerer cuts Yuuji off. “It’s absolutely unacceptable. I won’t be hearing you out on this.”
“Gojo-sensei said-”
“To hell with Satoru,” Nanami declares before storming from the room.
Yuuji sits back in his chair, defeated. There’s not much that can stop Nanami when he puts his mind to something. However, Gojo happens to be one of the things that can.
He takes out a pencil from his pencil case and absent-mindedly spins it in his hands. Keeping its momentum, he throws it up and catches it. He wonders if Kugisaki and Megumi have finished their drinks without him. He hopes Nanami will be back soon.
He’s spun, thrown, and caught the pencil sixteen times when the classroom door opens. The outcome of the conversation is written all over Nanami’s face.
Yuuji’s stomach sinks.
“Itadori.”
“Nanamin.”
“I failed,” the man tells him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Yuuji replies, “it’s not your fault. But Nanamin - it was really nice while it lasted, wasn’t it?”
He quickly regrets his words when Nanami’s jaw goes a little slack.
“Nanamin, I didn’t-” he fumbles, trying to figure out what to say to make things right, “What I meant was that, you know, it’s been- it’s been good, right? Like, my time in this world with you all, with the sorcery- it’s been great! It’s a shame it’s gotta end this way, and so soon too, but- you know, we’ve all gotta go eventually…” Yuuji’s voice trails off into silence. He thinks he made it worse.
Nanami speaks, “Itadori, please listen to me.”
And so Yuuji does.
“The Jujutsu world is not a kind place. It swallows people whole.” Nanami pauses, seemingly remembering something, or someone, then continues, “I’m glad to see it hasn’t done that to you. I don’t believe that’s due to luck; if you- if any of us were lucky, we wouldn’t be where we are right now.” He gives a quick bark of laughter, but there’s no humor behind it. “We are all here now, for better or for worse, and that is a fact. In my opinion, you survived this long because of who you are, not because of the curse that has taken up residence within you, nor because of the protection of other sorcerers. I can’t say I know what it feels like to be the vessel of a curse, but I know you, Itadori Yuuji. I may be biased- honestly, I’ve grown fond of you.” The elder sorcerer shakes his head. “Too fond for my own good.” He snorts. “The point is, Itado-” Nanami reconsiders, “you’re too good, Yuuji. This world doesn’t deserve you. It never will.” Nanami pauses again. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
Yuuji sniffs, and a tear slips out and runs down his cheek. “Yeah, I think- I think I do.”
Nanami pretends not to have seen the stray tear, and nods in approval. “Very well.” He checks his watch. “Fushiguro and Kugisaki are expecting you.”
“Nanamin?”
“Yes, Itadori?”
Yuuji sprints back to where the older sorcerer is standing and nearly knocks him to the floor with a hug.
“Thank you.”
* * *
It’s early evening when Yuuji finds Kugisaki and Fushiguro sitting in a park close to Jujutsu High, not too far from the cafe. Kugisaki excitedly waves at him as he approaches, motioning for him to hurry up and get over there already. When he rejoins the group, Kugisaki winks at him.
“About time,” she whispers, “watch this.”
The sorceress turns to Fushiguro. “So…”
Yuuji has a very bad feeling about what’s going to happen next.
“Gojo told me it was your birthday tomorrow.” Kugisaki’s eyes gleam.
Fushiguro glances at her. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t.”
A slow smile grows on Kugisaki’s face. “Whaaaaat? I’m not planning anything.” She pouts, batting her eyes at Fushiguro, who sighs. “I can’t believe you would accuse me like that.” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side. “And besides, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t do something special for your birthday?”
“I don’t want the cat ears,” Fushiguro says bluntly. “I’m never going to wear them.”
Kugisaki throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. “You’re no fun.” She turns to Yuuji, who’s gone quiet, staring at the sidewalk. “Eh? Itadori? You good?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I’m fine.”
“Were the cat ears too much?”
“No, it wasn’t the cat ears.” He can hear himself reply, but it sounds so distant, like someone talking underwater. Honestly, Yuuji thinks Fushiguro would look great in cat ears. Absolutely hilarious. But he won’t get to see him in them, because-
Kugisaki squints at him. “Hold on,” she narrows her eyes further, “so that’s how it is.”
That’s exactly how it is.
She elbows him, and glances at Fushiguro. “Didn’t get him anything, huh?” She stage-whispers, and Fushiguro rolls his eyes. “Ask him. Ask him what he wants.”
“Hey, Itadori. Are you listening to me?” Kugisaki nudges him harder, but Yuuji barely feels it.
Tomorrow is Fushiguro’s birthday.
I’m getting executed tomorrow, Yuuji thinks again. It’s the only thing he’s been able to think about. But now, he’s going to think about how he won’t be there for Fushiguro’s sixteenth birthday. How he won’t get to see him blow out the candles on his cake and how he won’t be there to tease him about his wish. How he won’t get to see the frosting smeared all over Kugisaki’s mouth, and how he won’t get to see Fushiguro’s face when he opens his presents. How he won’t ever get to see Fushiguro’s face after tonight.
The sound of Fushiguro’s voice snaps Yuuji out of it. “Itadori, you’ve been acting strange since you came back from sensei’s office.” The dark-haired sorcerer regards the other boy.
Kugisaki butts in, “Now that Fushiguro’s mentioned it, you have been weird.” She eyes him. “Spill.”
“I’m just worried about the math homework.” Yuuji offers them a weak smile. “Nanamin helped me, but I still don’t get it.”
“It’s a no-homework night,” Fushiguro points out, “And I did it for you.”
Yuuji fishes the worksheet out of his backpack. Sure enough, the whole worksheet is completed in Fushiguro’s neat handwriting. He’s been found out. “Oh,” he forces a smile, “yeah, thanks.”
Fushiguro does not look impressed. Yuuji clears his throat a little too loudly and stands up from his place on the bench.
“Let’s explore the place,” he announces as if they haven’t walked the streets surrounding Jujutsu High a hundred times. “Come on.”
Fushiguro and Kugisaki exchange a look which Yuuji makes a point to ignore, but they follow him nonetheless.
* * *
They walk as the sun dips lower in the sky, as their shadows grow longer, as Yuuji’s silence grows louder. They end up back in the same park Yuuji found Fushiguro and Kugisaki in a few hours earlier.
He won’t tell him. He won’t. They can tell something’s bothering him, but they haven’t pried any further, which he's thankful for.
Kugisaki’s stomach rumbles - it’s around dinner time, Yuuji realizes, there’s only a few hours left of today - and Kugisaki stops the boys. “Oiii, I’m going to go to the konbini,” she jabs her thumb in the direction of the store, a few streets away, “Do you two want anything?”
“Coffee.”
“Hot lemon tea.”
Kugisaki hums in acknowledgement and heads off to the market, leaving Fushiguro and Yuuji alone together in the fading daylight.
They stand together, quiet, Fushiguro’s eyes on Yuuji, and Yuuji’s anywhere but Fushiguro.
Yuuji prays, begs, that Fushiguro doesn’t-
“Itadori? ”
Fushiguro saying his name is all it takes for Yuuji to crumple.
“I’m being executed tomorrow,” Yuuji whispers. “In 6 hours.”
Fushiguro stares at him. He blinks twice.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know, Fushiguro.”
“It’s my birthday tomorrow,” Fushiguro repeats.
“Happy early birthday,” Yuuji says, “what are you gonna wish for?”
The dark-haired boy’s mouth falls open.
“Itadori, is this a joke? It’s not funny.”
“You never laugh anyways, Fushiguro,” Yuuji replies bitterly.
Fushiguro looks taken aback, and Yuuji cringes. He doesn’t know why he just said that.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, and he means it.
Fushiguro doesn’t look at him, turning away.
“Fushiguro…”
“What, Itadori?” Fushiguro’s tone is hard, and he refuses to look at Yuuji. He might as well have hit him, because the pink-haired boy stumbles back.
“I-” Yuuji’s voice gets caught in his throat, and he starts to cry.
Fushiguro quickly turns at the sound of Yuuji’s sobs, feeling a twinge of guilt and shock in his chest. He’s never been sure of how to comfort people, but he’ll try his best for Itadori. “You can… you can talk to me, Itadori,” the sorcerer says with some awkwardness.
“O-okay,” Yuuji mumbles. He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t want to die,” the boy says as the tears slip down his cheeks, “It’s selfish but I wanna live, you know? I never wanted this, to be a vessel for a stupid curse, to get caught up in the Jujutsu world. I was just… an ordinary guy, right? If I could go back, I’m not sure I would eat the finger.”
You made a mistake, Yuuji wants to tell Fushiguro. You shouldn’t have saved me. I was nothing worth saving. Then he realizes how stupid he sounds, blaming Fushiguro for dooming him when Yuuji knows full well he dug his own grave.
Fushiguro stares at him. He was never one for words, but now, Yuji feels ashamed at the silence. Say something, he wants to beg him. Don’t just let me stand here and look dumb. But Fushiguro keeps his face unreadable and doesn’t say a word.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuji tells him, wiping the tears off his face. “It’s not like I’m not happy right now. I am, I really am. Since I met you and Kugisaki and Gojo-sensei, I’ve been super happy. It’s just that- I wish that it could last forever.”
No response.
“I’ll die for you.” Yuuji looks straight at Fushiguro now. “I’ll happily die for you, Fushiguro. For you and Kugisaki and Gojo-sensei and Nanamin and everyone else. I’ll die for you because it means you’ll all be safe, but that still doesn’t mean I want to die.”
Yuuji sniffles, and blinks a few times. He can still feel Fushiguro’s gaze on him; it’s never left his face.
“Why,” Fushiguro begins, “Why is it always ‘I’ll die for you’ and never ‘I’ll live for you’?”
Yuuji jolts at the sound of the other boy’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. He winces at the way his voice cracks.
“Don’t say that,” Fushiguro responds. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Itadori.”
“But I do,” Yuuji replies. “I’m being selfish right now. I… I want so much and I know I’ll never have it.”
Just when he thought he was done crying, Yuuji can feel the tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. He tilts his head back and wills his tears back into his eyes. He doesn’t care how dumb he looks anymore, he just doesn’t want to cry in front of Fushiguro again.
“It’s okay to want,” Fushiguro’s voice is softer now, quieter. “It’s not selfish to want to live.”
Now, Yuuji doesn’t say anything. Fushiguro is still watching him, but the silence between them doesn’t demand a reply like before. There’s only the distant sounds of cars, and the humming of the streetlamps above them.
“Thank you,” Yuuji croaks.
Where others only see stiff edges, Yuuji finds gentleness in the arch of his brow, worry in the creases on his forehead, and love in the shape of Fushiguro’s lips.
Their eyes meet.
“Itadori,” Fushiguro says slowly, “do you remember what I said to you before you died?”
Yuuji nods.
“Then you know that I’ve never once regretted saving you.”
Yuuji had long ago realized that was the closest he was ever going to get to an “I love you” from Fushiguro. What had he said in reply? Live a long life? Yuuji hoped he, he, would, hoped he’d be able to move on, hoped that he’d find his happiness somewhere.
“So I don’t want you to regret it either,” Fushiguro tells him. “Especially not tonight.”
Yuuji gets what Fushiguro is trying to say- don’t die with regrets. Fushiguro wants him to tie up loose ends into pretty bows. But Yuuji has always been clumsy and would wind up tying a noose instead.
“It’s not like- There isn’t- I don’t have long,” Yuuji says.
“I know,” Fushiguro replies.
“I’m scared, Megumi,” he whispers to his best friend. Megumi - the name is sweet in Yuuji’s mouth.
Fushiguro’s eyes widen at his first name.
“I know,” Fushiguro says again, then adds, “Yuuji.”
Suddenly, Yuuji isn’t scared anymore.
“Megumi?”
“Yuuji?”
“What do you want for your birthday? I gotta get you something.”
Megumi shakes his head. He’s quiet for a while, thinking. He presses his lips together.
“If I had to think of something, then you.”
“That’s… You’re not- This isn’t a joke, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Then your wish is my command.”
“What?”
“I’m in love with you.”
And to prove it’s not a joke to the other boy, Itadori Yuuji kisses Fushiguro Megumi.
When they break apart, they’re both breathing heavily, a red flush coloring their cheeks. Neither speaks. Yuuji regains some semblance of coherence first. “Sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed, “That was- uh, I, um- That was kind of dramatic. Listen, Megumi-”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Yuuji,” Fushiguro tells him for the second time, then kisses him again.
Yuuji buries his hands in Fushiguro’s hair. Contrary to its looks, it’s soft and smooth. He rubs a lock of dark hair between his fingers. Fushiguro’s hands are warm on Yuuji’s cheeks despite it being a chilly winter night.
They stay pressed against each other, heartbeats synched.
For a while, it’s enough.
* * *
“What would you wish for?” Megumi mutters into Yuuji’s shoulder.
Yuuji thinks hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess… It would be to see Human Earthworm 5. But it releases on January 1st, so I won’t get to see it.”
“Ah,” Fushiguro responds, “that’s not what I thought you were going to say.”
Yuuji shrugs. “What were you expecting?”
There was a right answer to Fushiguro’s question, but Yuuji’s homework isn’t due tonight. He’ll correct it later if he finds the time.
Before Fushiguro can reply, Yuuji’s stomach rumbles, greedy for attention. “I hope Kugisaki gets back soon.”
“Speak of the devil,” Fushiguro mutters, turning to watch the rapidly approaching figure.
There’s a table with benches on the other side of the park, and Yuuji and Megumi head for it. Kugisaki adjusts her course accordingly.
“I got oden,” she says as she approaches them. “I got your hot lemon tea and coffee, too. And a surprise.” Kugisaki clutches a large, warm tub of the stew close to her chest, and drops the plastic bag of drinks into Yuuji’s hands. He opens it, and sees a packet of hot steamed buns and another packet he can’t identify alongside the drinks. The sorceress sets the bowl of oden down onto the table, and reaches into the plastic bag to pull out three pairs of chopsticks. She hands a pair each to Fushiguro and Yuuji. Then, she clasps her hands together and bows her head, the tips of her fingers touching her mouth. “Itadakimasu,” she says.
“Itadakimasu,” Yuuji and Fushiguro echo.
They share the oden. Steam rises up from the dish. Yuuji’s always loved the mochi kinchaku and atsuage. Fushiguro seems to like the daikon and konjac. Kugisaki eats all the chikuwa and chikuwabu, earning her pointed glares from the boys. The sorceress proceeds to get into a squabble with Yuuji over the singular hard boiled egg in their stew, of which they end up splitting. Kugisaki lets Yuuji have the bigger half. When they’ve emptied the plastic container of stew, they distribute the drinks. Yuuji rolls the bottle of lemon tea between his palms for warmth and unscrews the cap, taking a small sip. He holds the golden liquid in his mouth, savoring it, before he finally swallows.
“Now,” Kugisaki reaches into the bag again, “cake.”
She pulls out the package Yuuji couldn’t recognize earlier. It’s a small swiss roll. The cake has seen better days, and probably wishes it could go back to whatever shelf Kugisaki found it on. It’s too late for the roll though; she opens the package and exposes the slightly squashed cake to the world.
“Happy birthday, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki smirks at the sorcerer, “Have the first bite.” She pushes the roll toward him. “I didn’t get candles, so you’re gonna have to pretend.”
Fushiguro sighs, but complies. He mocks blowing out candles, and is reaching for the cake when Kugisaki stops him. “No, no,” she snaps, “do the whole thing. Blow out the candles, close your eyes, make a wish.” Kugisaki motions for him to try again.
This time, Fushiguro goes through all the motions. Blowing out the candles, closing his eyes, and making a wish. Kugisaki nods with approval. Fushiguro’s thick lashes flutter open, and he glances at Yuuji before looking at the cake.
Yuuji thinks he knows what Fushiguro wished for. And he doesn’t have to hope that it’ll still come true.
“How is it?” Kugisaki’s on the edge of her seat, eagerly waiting for Fushiguro’s feedback.
“Not too sweet,” he remarks. The highest praise one can get. Kugisaki is beaming like she won first place in a cooking competition. Yuuji takes a bit of the roll for himself. Fushiguro is right, the cream is perfect: subtly sweet, light and airy on his tongue. The cake itself is fluffy, not too dense, and pairs nicely with the cream. Kugisaki might just be a konbini cake connoisseur. They devour what's left of the swiss roll, leaving nothing but the cream smeared on the packaging. Yuuji picks it up and licks it off.
Kugisaki and Yuuji are still hungry, so they unwrap the package of meat buns. They pass one to Fushiguro, too. Yuuji waits for Kugisaki to get halfway through her snack before saying anything.
“Nobara,” Yuuji starts, “I’m getting executed tomorrow.”
Her bun slips out of her hand, spilling chunks of meat and broth onto the ground.
Fushiguro keeps nibbling at his bun, eyes downcast.
Yuuji sees Kugisaki’s fist coming, but doesn’t move. “Ow,” he winces, rubbing his cheek. He deserved that one. He also makes a mental note to never make Kugisaki angry again.
“What the hell,” Kugisaki pants, “What the hell.”
She loses it.
The sorceress whirls on Fushiguro, jabbing her finger in his face. “You. Why didn’t you tell me? If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?”
She turns back to Yuuji, who wisely steps back, out of range.
“Why,” she clenches her fists, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve done something. We could have,” she gestures wildly, “run away or hidden or done something, anything, Itadori. So why?”
“Sorry,” he tries, but Kugisaki shuts him down.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she snaps, but sighs. Yuuji and Fushiguro watch her frame shrink, shoulders slumping, her energy fading away.
“I hate you both,” she tells them, her voice a trembling whisper. They all know she doesn’t mean it.
Kugisaki closes her eyes and presses her lips together. “You two might as well kiss by now, you know.”
Fushiguro chokes on his steamed bun.
She cracks an eye open. “Don’t tell me.”
Their silence says everything.
“It’s about damn time,” she chuckles, but hurt is still evident in her tone.
“I’m sorry, Nobara,” Yuuji tells her. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I’m sorry for everything. I really am.”
Kugisaki lets out a short, quick bark of laughter. “Why are you apologizing to me, Itadori? I’m not the one who’s about to die.”
“I don’t know,” he admits, and it’s the truth. “I don’t know, Nobara.”
Kugisaki smothers him in a hug. “Itadori,” she squeezes him tighter, “Yuuji.” She buries her face in his shoulder. There’s a strangled cry and a noise like someone being choked; Yuuji realizes Kugisaki is crying. He lets her weep on his uniform, brushing the hair away from her face. She slams a fist onto his chest, once, twice. “It’s not fair,” she sobs. “It’s so dumb.” She pauses for a second, sniffling. “You, get over here,” she calls to Fushiguro, who goes along with her words and joins the hug. Yuuji shifts so he’s holding both Fushiguro and Kugisaki in his arms. Fushiguro has his eyes closed, and his arm around Yuuji’s back. It’s quiet, save for Kugisaki’s occasional sniffs. They stay like that for a long while, the three of them huddled together, enjoying each other’s warmth and company.
It’s Kugisaki who speaks first, rubbing her eyes. “Did Fushiguro cry?”
Yuuji snorts. “Nope.”
Kugisaki turns to glare at the sorcerer in question. “Why didn’t you cry?”
Her query initially goes unanswered as Fushiguro clears his throat, dipping his head into his elbow. Kugisaki and Yuuji don’t miss the quick swipe of his sleeve over his eyes.
Kugisaki fumbles for a response. She settles for a quick, awkward nod. They all understand.
Eventually, it’s Yuuji who suggests they start heading back. It must be near midnight by now. He’ll be dead in six hours.
The three hold hands on the walk back to the Jujutsu High Dormitory. They have a sleepover in Yuuji’s room. There’s no games, no stories, no late-night prank calls. They fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and love.
* * *
They hold hands again, escorting Yuuji to the execution grounds.
Officially, Fushiguro and Kugisaki are there to make sure he won't run. He has no intention to flee. They wouldn’t stop him if he did.
Unofficially, Fushiguro and Kugisaki are there to say goodbye.
“Thank you,” Yuuji tells Fushiguro and Nobara, before he enters the chamber.
I love you, he thinks.
* * *
Gojo’s hands tremble as he exits the chamber, alone.
* * *
On December 22nd, Megumi heads to the morgue to pick up his birthday present. Shoko hands him the urn. She apologizes, but Megumi doesn’t want to hear it because he knows better than anyone that what’s done is done. He leaves with Yuuji’s ashes tucked under his arm and the realization that there’ll always be an empty chair at the table and a slice of cake cut for someone who will never be able to taste it.
* * *
“Two tickets for Human Earthworm 5, please.”
“Make that three!” a cheery voice calls out.
Fushiguro and Kugisaki do not need to turn around to recognize the owner of the voice. Gojo Satoru throws his arms around the two, pulling them close with a chuckle.
“Human Earthworm 5, eh?” Their teacher’s voice quiets, softens. “He should be here.”
Fushiguro shrugs Gojo’s arm off his shoulders, and Gojo catches sight of the object the boy is clutching close to his chest.
For the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru is at a loss for words.
“It was his last wish,” Megumi says.