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Itadori Yuji is in a really bad mood today. He desperately wants to go home, to fall into Satoru's cozy embrace in front of the big TV, to wrap himself in a bright, colorful, fluffy blanket that they recently bought together at some fair. Oh, Satoru may rarely get cold, but he clings to Yuji, warming his icy palms under the other's hoodie. He imagines himself drinking some kind of chocolate drink, and Satoru eating an unthinkable amount of sweets, devouring them one after another, making their kisses outrageously sweet, outrageously airy, covered in chocolate saliva.
In his thoughts, they are both happy now, both ready to cuddle until the early morning, leaving gentle, almost lazy kisses on their damp skin after a shower. And all this just to not lose hope, not to lose the thick scarlet thread that connects them both with the strongest rope, created from blood, grief and tears. Just to find peace and again breathe in the warm air, intertwined with the sea breeze that Gojo smells like.
And all this just to get rid of the unpleasant, constant anxiety, avoiding responsibility and simply not allowing Satoru to go anywhere. So that Yuji could see - here, this idiot. Alive, healthy and whining like a child when he is scolded for something. Alive and nearby, asking for hugs almost more often than just holding hands. And then the responsibility for other people's, such fleeting lives will fall on someone else's shoulders, but not on the white-haired man with Six Eyes.
A little selfish, but Itadori just wants to rest.
The freshman's neck is glistening with nervous sweat, his hair is tousled and lies in unkempt strands, like bright pink flashes of sunset in the darkness. His eyes look tiredly ahead, at Mei Mei and Ui Ui, quietly talking to each other: he is immersed in his thoughts and does not even notice the mocking glances of his fellow travelers. And it does not matter when excitement comes from him in waves and Yuji has to squeeze his palms tightly, leaving crescents on the rough skin from frequent training. He rubs his eyes and hisses barely audibly: the skin under his eyes is tender, and the dark bruises under them make everything a little more painful - he literally feels how the skin pulsates under the pads of his fingers, how it slowly wears away.
Insomnia, caused by another battle with Sukuna, who does nothing but give him nightmares, constant fights in his head and a dull:
"I'm bored, kid. And I hate watching your bastard lick your face. If that happens again, I'll bite his tongue."
Later, however, they have a nice conversation... if that's what you can call the constant insults and strange words flying out of Ryomen's mouth, clearly belonging to an ancient Japanese dialect.
... And Yuji is also upset that he didn't have time to hug his beloved tightly, wish him luck and, at least, kiss him on the lips. Didn't have time to whisper to his blue-eyed angel that he, Itadori, will be there and, if suddenly there is a hint that everything is crumbling to dust at their feet, he will definitely come to the rescue. No matter what happens.
Everything happened too quickly, unexpectedly, tearing everyone away from their thoughts and plans for a calm, at first glance, evening - Dark as night, the Veil almost comfortably enveloped Shibuya.
Itadori's nose is slightly itchy, and he awkwardly runs his hand over it a few times, holding back an incredible urge to sneeze: everything is so quiet here that he doesn't want to disturb the peace with any sound. The dark subway tunnel seems to stretch on forever. It is dimly lit, the lamps constantly flicker, and the only white beam of light hope is the light of a flashlight. The smell of dampness and blood around is incredibly disgusting, but familiar, and also presses on his temples with an approaching migraine and unpleasant, heavy questions, a pulsating nausea somewhere in the stomach:
"What will happen next?"
"Will he survive?"
"They will see each other after all this nightmare and watch stupid movies again with an incessant stream of spoilers from Satoru-chan?"
To be honest, he's just a little scared. Just a little. Yuji would never dare to say that he doesn't believe in the Strongest Mage of the modern world, because he trusts. He trusts Satoru so much that he's ready to give his own life a couple more times without hesitation, to personally rip his trembling heart out of his chest, to break his ribs, to tear his lungs apart. He's ready to give Gojo the feeling of the warmth of home that he's ready to create with his cheerful sensei... With his sensei, after everything they've been through, what they did with each other on the couch, hidden from prying eyes?
And while Satoru is in danger, while ordinary people around them, civilians, can give their lives to Curses right now, Itadori can only wait and believe that he's doing the right thing, staying out of the conflict. For now.
And again this disgusting feeling of helplessness, which approaches like swamp mud, sticking to the skin, under the skin, filling Sukuna's dark world with rot and mixing with bloody waters. All he can do now is listen to the ringing steps of three people, and his own loud heartbeat, which he hears in his ears, he feels somewhere in his trachea with his own heart. Unpleasantly nauseating, a little scary and damn offensive. He is offended to tears in his eyes, because Gojo Satoru is not next to him now, who would drive away despondency with one smug smile and burning blue eyes, leaving kisses with the taste of caramel somewhere on his cheeks. And would drag him under the ice, with one exhalation into someone else's lips:
"My caramel, don't be strong, I beg you. I'm here. For you."
His thoughts are still pulsing inside his skull, scratching Ryoumen's sharp claws right into the gray matter, almost to the point of hysteria and nervous breakdown. Can't Yuji live the last weeks, months, or years of his life peacefully before his execution? Doesn't he deserve to spend these short but important moments in the arms of the person to whom he already gave his soul, heart, and first awkward kisses while watching the stupid movie "Human Earthworm 3"? Doesn't he deserve to just be?
Does Gojo Satoru deserve to be chained to the ground because of the power that pulses under his skin?
On his bitten lower lip, he can feels the marks of his own small, neat fangs, because he is very worried. He smiles involuntarily and this smile is illuminated by the sunlight, making life a little better. At least for him, but Yuji is sure - if Satoru saw him right now, then he would feel a little better too. After all, smiles for both of them - mean so much. The light of the flashlight reflects off the steel of the rails, creating artificial sunbeams jumping on the walls.
Itadori runs his hand over his neck, wiping away beads of sweat and remembers the smeared and wet kiss on his neck, the snow-white hair that tickled his sensitive skin. They have not tested the limits of their bodies until now and Yuji feels a little awkward because of it. For some reason, he wants to run his hands over the marble skin in a completely not innocent way, seasoning everything with kisses and tongue. Not at all innocently look at the flushed face opposite, at the huge bright eyes and feel... Feel. To feel his personal deity under his fingers, woven from the cold of winter, from crystal clear snow and from a storm of emotions that flare up white somewhere inside Satoru's body like an uncontrollable stream, a deadly blizzard. Yuji is afraid to melt it with his heat, with his touches, as if he were the complete opposite - a bright, hot summer, a heat that will never go out. But, he continues to shine just as brightly, illuminating the ice sculpture with his rays, carefully making it sparkle. But never - no - melt.
After all, Gojo is not the one who will slowly disappear under touching touches. They are connected by many things, especially the fear of death, the horror of loss and the impudent red-eyed Curse, which at any moment likes to spoil the mood of both of them. But two people in love with each other do not complain. The body, trustingly pressed to the other and so warm, full of trust, destroys all the minuses. They are also connected by strange feelings, similar to sakura petals - so tender, cherished by the wind, bright, but in no way fragile. Because Satoru selfishly protects them from everyone with Infinity, not letting them crumble into pieces, fly away with the wind somewhere far, far away, away from their love. But Yuji stands next to them, intertwining their fingers together, stands with the stubbornness of a wild warrior, protecting them too.
They give love a joint contribution, which binds them very tightly.
Gojo Satoru and Itadori Yuji have found a haven created just for the two of them, in an old basement, in front of a large TV. And no one below them dares to complain, only to huddle closer to each other, because it is unbearably painful to contain these abundant feelings inside, because the feelings of love and tenderness that twist the organs into a flower pattern are almost impossible to bear alone.
Yuji involuntarily sighs, unwillingly, but emerges from his viscous thoughts, and pats the back of his head, ruffling his already unkempt hair - he gets lost in the labyrinth of his own memory again and again, beginning to feel a vague anxiety settle in the lower abdomen. He frowns, awkwardly inhales deeply, but his lungs seem to not want to take in air. Panic and fear for a loved one can sometimes be so unpleasant, right? But, only here, he feels anxiety for his partner constantly, hiding it behind nervous movements, behind biting the skin on his fingers. Just to calm down.
... But, five minutes later, he shakes off the blood of the Cursed Grasshopper, looking with pain at the bloody stains on the walls, at the dead, changed people. And he sees in all this his mistakes, his bitter words and his first murder. Perhaps he will never get used to this. Never.
Nausea inevitably rises in his throat when he remembers Yoshino again and again, who looked at him so excitedly that very last time. Speaking in an apologetic tone. Begging for forgiveness, begging to believe him. Begging just in the last minutes of his life to feel needed, important.
"Sorry, but apparently I never had a heart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Itadori."
"I'm the one who's sorry. I should have saved you, I should have understood. I should have tried to do something."
But he couldn't.
How sorry he really is. And Satoru, after all, understood everything and stroked his hair, soothingly kissed the tender skin of his eyelid, trying to calm him down, to collect all the tears, all the pain inside himself.
And the conversation he'd replayed in his head hundreds, maybe thousands of times over the past months never happened. Just an imitation, Itadori's attempt to apologize to the man he'd sworn to save and take away from all troubles to Jujutsu College. But Gojo had never blamed him, only silently present, giving him his smile.
He knows that even with the constant nightmares, even with the fact that he pretends to have simply forgotten, he will never forget the first person who was killed in front of him with tears in their eyes. Whom Yuji himself did not save. And that makes it even more painful.
He was weak, but has that changed? Even a little?
In the near-dead silence of the subway, he remembers praying in front of his bed after a long time.
Everything collapses in an instant. With a snap of the fingers, with the creation of Blue, Red, Violet on long graceful fingers. And God knows what other colors. It collapses right into a bloody veil in his eyes, but only after a couple of undoubtedly long moments does he feel that these are only tears.
"Gojo Satoru..."
And his heart stops. Stops from the realization, from the unpleasant pulsation in his veins, from the horror and fear of hearing such special words that will tear the bloody organ out of his chest and throw it straight into the grass, where it will rot-rot-rot, dripping down in bloody shreds.
But, Yuji, it's happened before.
His heart starts beating so fast that his chest pulsates under his trembling palm, he is unable to take a sip of oxygen, he only looks pitifully somewhere in front of him, but sees nothing. Only into the emptiness of the Prison Realm, somewhere deep inside, where the undoubtedly equally cheerful, bright-bright Satoru lies, grinning at the skeletons surrounding him, and thinking about anything but seeing the tears in Itadori's eyes. He looks through the blindfold proudly, as if he is not afraid, as if he does not feel his grief.
And Gojo Satoru is completely unsuitable for this Realm, because light cannot exist in emptiness.
Yuji's head is empty and full at the same time. He does not understand what he sees, what he feels, he only takes a trembling, weak breath, the first in this millisecond. There's so much going on in Yuji's head: those damn memories of their past, and even more images of such a grave-black future, until a mocking laugh, a wide fanged grin on someone else's lips brings him back to earth:
"Are you giving in, kid? So easily? I should have probably torn that beautiful blond head off earlier to see you like this."
Sukuna laughs and talks. Damn it, he talks so much, but Itadori doesn't even care what exactly. The words are true. He's weak. And he hates this realization more than anything.
Yuji trembles like a maple leaf in the wind - swaying weakly, until he finally falls off the dry tree, slowly falling straight into the abyss. Somewhere in the darkness... He himself feels that he's falling, but it's just his sick imagination.
"What? Can you repeat that?"
And his voice is so weak, so pathetic, that nausea rises to his lips faster with each passing second. He coughs, wiping his mouth, realizing that he bit his lip so hard that it started bleeding.
His scarlet, pathetic blood.
"Please tell me I heard things. Tell me that Sukuna cast a spell on me. It can't be, it can't be, it can't be..."
"He was sealed a couple of minutes ago, Itadori-kun."
Mini-Mechamaru speaks in frustration, although how can a robot feel his pain, his loss?
The world collapses around him completely, causing shards of dust to rise up in a gust of wind. Nothing remains of the maple leaf, only a painful reminder in the form of a tree where it once grew. In his head, the sweet, sweet words of his lover, his favorite molasses, weaving his lungs with sticky syrup, desperately trying to glue together the small cracks inside, as if not noticing the huge hole. Everything inside is sweet, like the delicious mochi from their favorite little restaurant they went to before...
"Yuji-kun, I love you, you know? Huh?! You know?! But how, I haven't told you yet!"
"You look upset. Do you want me to tell you how once, when I was younger, Ieiri did..."
"Yuji, I live only because of your smile. Smile at me more often, okay? I feel important."
... Itadori runs back, completely not hearing Mei Mei's screams, running without making out the road. Running back to the one whose soul he swore to save.
His heart skips a beat over and over until there's only a quick, meaningless pulse left on the surface. Why would he do that when his soul no longer wants to be here, alone?
Itadori can swear he can see their smiles, the kind that only the closest people in the world give each other, their kisses, and the blue eyes of an icy lake, reflecting the sunlight, looking straight into the amber opposite.
Smashing his fists against the ground, against the walls, against his empty soul, over and over again, until the blood flows out of his body to no avail, mixing with his sweat, he feels like a vice squeezing his body.
He can swear that half an hour ago he was sealed together with Gojo Satoru.
After all, all the mirror surfaces reflect only the color of cinnamon and chocolate, which Satoru loves so much. But Yuji is not in the reflection.
The very next day, Yuji creates a small grave by the pond, where he throws the remnants of his dream, the remnants of his own heart, carefully torn out of his sternum by someone else’s hands, and sprinkles everything with the ashes of grief. He kneels down in front of a small hole and puts his hands together in a prayer gesture. Minutes, or maybe hours, pass without a trace. He buries everything with his hands and slowly gets up, looking somewhere into the distance, where the sun is slowly setting behind the horizon. He doesn't feel anything, so he drowns in the sun's rays, trying to warm his dead skin.