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Yuta wouldn’t say he was scared of Inumaki, at least not really.
Maki and Panda seemed to like him, well, Panda outwardly. For the most part, Yuta didn’t mind him either, not that he could be picking and choosing his friends. He was on the far, far, outskirts of the group. Yuta’s nerves weren’t even Inumaki’s fault, but the boy’s quiet and mysterious nature gave very little insight on what the cursed speech user really thought of him, which for Yuta, was mildly terrifying.
To make it through school, Yuta had always needed a way to gauge potential danger, to pick and choose whom he should keep his head down around when he walked past. This was the best way to deal with Rika, to stop her from fabricating a bloody massacre to yet another unsuspecting soul. But Yuta had learned the hard way that you couldn’t protect everyone. He never managed to keep off anyone's radar for long. It wasn’t surprising, he was literally the embodiment of everything pathetic, a bully’s dream come true. Quoting the lovely Taylor Swift, a nightmare dressed like a daydream. When he was still in the earlier years of having Rika’s curse, a simple sock in the face was enough to trigger the deadly curse, and he would be helpless to watch the suffering. Screams of horror still plastered fresh in his dreams as Rika cheerfully twisted their limbs, leaving them shattered and broken for the rest of their lives.
Yeah, not exactly a model childhood.
But as Yuta grew older, he also grew smarter. Through experience, he became the world's best empath. He learned that while your average bully would seem to act on pure, testosterone-fueled instinct, there was actually much planning involved in victimizing someone. By watching facial expressions, body language, and the tones people used when they spoke to others around him, Yuta learned to interpret when someone was about to strike. They would usually group up, or not-so-subtly smirk at him from across the room. He had gotten so used to feeling that toxic, no, dangerous energy among his peers, that he would skip or even hide somewhere in the school to avoid it. The opps (literally everyone) might consider his life-saving ability as a poor coverup for his extreme overthinking, but it wasn’t like he had many options. He needed to get a sense of people to understand their intentions, to keep everyone safe. And there in that was the problem: Yuta couldn’t even see Inumaki’s full face, let alone his intentions.
Not only that, but Gojo had removed him from his normal highschool, disrupting his routine, and placed him in a school that had approximately 4 kids in his class. Including himself and a panda. A fucking panda. There was no way he could use the, keep-your-head-down-and-blend-into-the-background strategy now. To make matters worse, he had already been called out once by Maki for being so pathetic.
This highlighted another of his many problems, he had no idea how to make friends. Yes, as pathetic as it sounds, Yuta quite literally had a better relationship with the rustling leaves in the wind than people his age. And It showed. Whenever he tried to talk, his speech would come out in distorted bits, consistently stumbling over itself. There were times where he simply had to stop and start his attempt over again, and at that point, all of his already low amount of confidence had been sucked dry. Yuta had the nonchalance of a fish above water. That’s how he felt, constantly gasping for breath, but unable to breathe. Panda and Maki at least gave reactions whenever Yuta’s little speech mishaps would happen, Maki usually rolling her eyes, muttering something about a “wet rag,” while Panda would smile with some sort of pity. Yuta didn’t love their responses, they made him feel like more of an outcast than he already was, but at least he could get a sense of what they were thinking.
When Yuta spoke to Inumaki, a fairly rare occurrence with the help of his Rika-induced diligence, Inumaki simply listened. The cursed speech user didn’t blink his eyes, shift, make a sound, or give Yuta any info on what he was thinking. Looking back, this may have been a slight exaggeration, but to the poor, socially awkward boy, it had sure felt like that at the time. Even though all his life Yuta had learned to read people, to seal off his own book, Inumaki’s unmoving eyes felt like they could see right through him, directly into his cursed soul. And god forbid did that stress him out.
The most Yuta got out of Inukami was something related to a rice ball recipe. And Yuta didn’t speak rice ball.
So Yuta made a plan, if he couldn’t read any of Inumaki’s intentions, he would simply avoid the boy, for his safety, of course. While this, or what Yuta had decided to call plan A, may seem a little drastic, he didn’t really think it would affect Inumaki that much, since the boy hadn’t actually shown much of an interest in befriending Yuta. Or much of an interest in anything. It was a foolproof plan, and definitely, 100%, absolutely, would not come back to bite him in the butt later.
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It definitely, 100%, absolutely, came back to bite him in the butt later.
Yuta had been attending classes for about 2 weeks, and with Gojo being his teacher, it was… different than he imagined. He really did appreciate Gojo, he had taken him in when Yuta was on the edge of giving up, on the edge of despair. For that, he owed the man his life. However, Gojo’s teaching style was not something Yuta appreciated as much. As of right now, during his super sophisticated Jujutsu-related class, the blindfolded man was going on and on about some new type of sushi that he had eaten a few days ago. Which wouldn’t have been as bad, if this wasn’t the 5th time he had gone into a random rant during his lecture.
Unfortunately for Yuta, he was tired, exhausted even.
Yuta was almost always tired. Most nights it seemed like sleep itself was afraid of the boy. Back at his old school, he had learned to deal with the exhaustion, it became part of his nightly routine. Not only was his insomnia part of him, but it was also manageable. When you force yourself into a state of constant listening and awareness, the lines between unconscious and unconscious blurr. This was how he managed his lack of sleep, literally just sleeping with his eyes open, and being aware at the same time. However, with Jujutsu high’s curriculum being half whatever Gojo’s rambling about, and half combat/physical conditioning, Yuta couldn't help but feel incredibly drained.
So when Gojo switched the subject to talk about why the color blue always tasted the best, Yuta felt his eyes begin to drop, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. The boy gently sat his head down on the wooden desk, directly on top of whatever crappy notes he had been taking, giving in slightly to that drowsy feeling. He was still awake. It’s not like it was a crime to be comfortable. But as Gojo rambled on and on, his voice slowly became nothing but a distant hum, the world around Yuta slowly fading as his neglects to sleep began to finally catch up to him. With a small sigh, Yuta could no longer force his eyes open, sinking into a quiet, dreamless, sleep.
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Yuta had always been jumpy, even before Rika became a curse. And with time, and everything he’s experienced, his jumpiness had only increased.
So when the sleeping Yuta, distantly aware of his surroundings, felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, he couldn’t help his immediate reaction. The boy jolted awake, his brain immediately flicking into fight or flight mode, his heart spiking through his chest. And as if that pitiful overreaction didn’t embarrass the boy enough, he ended up overshooting his quick jolt, literally falling out of his chair. His butt hit the ground with the thud, the back of his head knocking into another desk, sharp pain shooting down his spine.
Yuta remained on the ground, cradling his throbbing neck. He allowed himself a few quick breaths in recovery, his eyes closed. To minimize pain or embarrassment, he didn’t know. After a few seconds, the pain in his neck subsided, and became bearable. Yuta braced himself to face his “attacker.” He assumed it was probably Gojo, since this was his class that he had fallen asleep in. He internally kicked himself, Gojo may have been kind to him in his upbringing, but for Yuta to completely disregard his teaching by falling asleep… Yeah, Yuta didn’t think he would be particularly kind to that. With a huff of courage, the boy opened his eyes, expecting to see the blindfolded teacher standing over him. However, Yuta realized he should have just kept his eyes closed, for the way they were so wide, the danger that they would fall out of his head was way too real.
Inumaki stood about a foot away, and while the curse speech user was anything but tall, he seemed to loom over Yuta. His expression unmoving and blank, like an untouched piece of paper. Or at least that’s what Yuta assumed, he didn’t really give himself the time to look Inumaki in the eyes, since the second he realized who he was facing, he scrambled to his feet at an unnatural speed; his pain completely forgotten. During his awkward shuffle up, Yuta did manage to hit the top of his head on the underside of the table, filling the already thick-atmosphered room with the screech of metal table-legs against a wooden floor, the table sliding several feet from the impact. Yuta winced at the sound, he was a disaster.
When Yuta did finally manage to get to his feet, He put his eyes anywhere but Inumaki.
“Oh! Inu— Inumaki!” He internally cursed himself for being so socially useless, “I didn’t realize you were still here—,” he could feel his face burning, “I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to… do that.” He spun his hand in a wide circle, motioning at the disheveled table. If Yuta wasn’t so busy blubbering like a fool, he might have noticed the way Inumaki’s hand moved back to his side, his attempts to help the boy up going completely unnoticed. Or the way his eyes curved slightly upward in humor as the other boy descended into further panic.
However, Yuta did manage to catch Inumaki reaching for something on the correctly-placed table next to him, tearing his attention away from the blubbering boy for half a second. Taking advantage of his chance, Yuta wasted no time weaving around Inumaki, grabbing his bag off the floor and booking it as fast as a “nonchalant” walking pace would take him to the door.
“Salmon roe—” Inumaki shifted his attention back to Yuta, reaching out a hand toward the fleeing boy, but Yuta was already halfway out the door.
“Ah.. bye to you as well Inumaki.” Yuta said in a rushed tone, picking up his pace.
If Yuta was’t so focused on his escape, he might have noticed how his backpack was significantly lighter than it should be, or that he and Inumaki had been the only ones left in the classroom, or that forty-five minutes had passed since class ended. But he didn’t think about that. He was too busy trying to calm his racing heart, swallowing back the emotions of panic and fear he had learned to associate with Rika. That had felt dangerously close.
The sound of soft, but quick, footsteps against wood filled the hallway, as Yuta stiffly made his way back to his room. If he got there quick enough, he could have a solid thirty minutes to compose himself before he had to go to combat training with the group. With Inumaki. He may have overreacted slightly, feeling a tad bad for leaving so abruptly. However, it wasn’t like he was wrong for his reaction. Yuta might not have known Inumaki all that well, but he certainly didn’t want Rika to rip him apart for simply waking him up.
Yuta slowed his pace from a run to a fast walk, his breaths quick and loud. He was far enough from the classroom to be a good distance from Inumaki, even if the boy had tried to follow him. Which was somewhat likely since Yuta was fairly certain that the last “Salmon roe” was an indication for him to stop. Why? He wasn’t sure, perhaps he wanted to scold him for falling asleep during Gojo’s lectures. Inumaki was pretty quiet, so he was probably a pretty good student. Yeah, that made sense. That was why he waited so long in the classroom after class had ended, he wanted him to wake up so he could tell Yuta off.
“Oh—!” Yuta stopped abruptly in the hallway, snapping his fingers as a sudden thought hit him.
“He waited for me to wake up myself because he didn’t want to trigger Rika!” Yuta exclaimed out loud in the empty hallway. “And he just got tired of waiting and decided to risk it.” That made perfect sense, Inumaki wasn’t dumb, he knew Yuta was dangerous since Rika almost attacked all of the first years the second Gojo introduced him. He just got tired of waiting for him to wake up. Inumaki would’ve also wanted some time before combat training, why waste it waiting for your lazy ass classmate to wake up when you can just wake him up yourself? Yuta smiled, happy he finally came to a reasonable conclusion. While his explanation didn’t really help that small hope somewhere in his heart that he could’ve been friends with Inumaki, it did find a way for him to excuse any chance of Inumaki wanting the same. That would mess up plan A. With the emotional crisis averted, Yuta began to walk again, his footsteps quiet as he set a leisure pace for his room.
However as he walked, one question still nagged him in the back of his mind. What was Inumaki’s plan if he had triggered Rika? He obviously knew how dangerous she was, why risk it when you could just leave? Unless, Yuta brought his hand up to his face, thumb resting underneath his chin, he had a way to deal with her.
Unfortunately for Yuta, another one of his useless talents besides (attempted) manslaughter and insomnia, was overthinking.
Yuta had never really thought too hard about the logic of the world after Rika had cursed him. Yeah, it took a while for him to get used to seeing terrifying monsters around every corner, every dark alleyway, crawling on people. He shuddered, his mind flashing scenes of unsuspecting souls carrying oozing beasts of black tar on their backs and shoulders. Yeesh. Of course, he had never needed to exorcise one before, Rika made for a pretty good intimidator. So even with the weight of Rika on his shoulders, sometimes that weight made for a pretty messed up blanket of safety. However, it wasn’t until Yuta had arrived at this school did he have some doubts about Rika’s seemingly endless power to protect him. Or specifically, protect him from.
Inumaki was a cursed speech user, Gojo had told him on his first day of school. While Yuta got the basic gist of what cursed speech enabled a person to do, he also knew he got his explanation from Gojo, so he did take most of what he learned with a grain of salt. In Gojo’s thirteen-second cursed speech Ted Talk, Yuta understood that anything Inumaki said would come true, that was why he didn’t speak much. To protect others. While that was fairly noble in Yuta’s book, Inumaki’s power also scared him.
He felt vulnerable in a way he had never felt since Rika, and he wasn’t sure how to manage that fear.
Yuta glanced at the clock, trying to force his brain into thinking about something else. He had about fifteen minutes to get to his room before he needed to leave for combat training. He groaned, all his stupid internal monologuing had slowed him down, and now he didn’t have time to scream into his pillow.
With great annoyance, Yuta picked up the pace again. He was about five minutes from his room if he fast-walked, which would allow him enough time to get changed at least. In his keen attempt to move faster, however, Yuta failed to see the nail that was sticking up from one of the wooden planks on the floor. The boy flailed for a second, his hands searching for a nonexistent surface to save himself, before he was able to regain his footing, wobbling slightly.
Naturally, Yuta looked back for the culprit of his suffering. He would have to let Gojo know later, so that no one else would suffer the same fate. However, to find the nail, Yuta did have to turn around, since he had stumbled forward. What he found behind him nearly made his heart stop.
Inumaki stood about 20 feet away, on the other end of the hallway, his piercing eyes locked with Yuta’s. One of his legs was pulled up in front of him, like he was frozen right before he could take a step. If Yuta wasn’t so busy trying to force his face into a less horrified expression, he would have said that Inumaki literally seemed to be sneaking up on him like actors did in movies. Tucked beneath his arm Inumaki was also holding a black book and several papers, but Yuta was too far away to understand the writing on them.
For a while, they just stared at each other, frozen, Yuta’s urgency to get back to his room completely forgotten. The sound of his heartbeat roared in Yuta’s ears, so loud that he was worried that he might have missed something the other boy said, since the part of Inumaki’s face he could see wore an expecting expression, as if he was waiting for a response of some kind. Of course, Yuta wouldn't be giving him one, since there was a very small but bright hope that his interpretation was wrong. Like every other time with this boy. Instead, Yuta took a very small, quiet step back, his eyes still locked with Inumaki’s. With his weight now shifted, the wooden floor let out a quiet groan, as if to protest his decision.
Unfortunately for Yuta, Inumaki also seemed to agree.
His trance seemingly lifted by the weak sound, Inumaki suddenly broke into a full fucking sprint, high-tailing it directly at Yuta, his scarf shifting down his face as the boy picked up speed.
Yuta let out an unbridled squeak of terror, barely registering anything, before pivoting and bolting as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He was not about to let himself be caught, hell nah, he still had a slightly promising future. Also Rika would probably take a bite out of this poor kid, although Yuta wasn’t sure, there were a couple questions brewing in his mind about what side she was on. In light of recent events, she had grown to be reliably unreliable.
“BONITO FLAKES” Inumaki called from behind him, dangerously close. Jesus, was this kid friends with Sonic or something? Yuta could hear the footsteps behind him thumping louder and louder as they came closer. Oh fuck that. Yuta sprinted faster, if he could make it to the next fork in the hallway, he could juke out Inumaki by taking the long way to the rooms, giving him just enough of a head-start to lose him. However, Yuta needed to get there first, and with how fast Inumaki was catching up to him, it was going to be close.
Yuta pushed himself, his breathing becoming hard and uneven, vision blurring slightly.
“Okaka—” Yuta heard Inumaki’s urgent voice right behind him, so close that the cursed-speech user didn’t even have to yell to be heard over Yuta’s exhaustion. He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the urgent calling of the boy behind him and the burning in his legs, that would only slow him down.
Instead, he focused his eyes ahead.
He was about 10 more feet away from the split in the hallway, all he needed was a few more strides then he could break away. With that final thought, he poured all his energy into his legs, so much so that he assumed Rika must be doing something that gave him some sort of superhuman strength, because Yuta wasn’t sure if he had ever run so fast in his life. However his success was short-lived.
About 3 feet from the split, Yuta felt a strangely familiar hand grip onto his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his uniform to ensure his capture. Panicking, Yuta, who had finally reached the split, rearranged his plan. Instead of turning and immediately running like he had originally planned, he simply pivoted and froze, so his form was barely in the other hallway, facing forward. Thanks to Newton's laws, Inumaki failed to win against inertia, losing his grip on Yuta, falling several feet forward into the other hallway with a painful thud.
In any other situation, the dark haired boy would’ve felt bad, but this was life and death.
Yuta took advantage of his chance using whatever energy he had left to sprint back to his room, wasting no time to even check if Inumaki was still chasing him. Surprisingly, the amount of stamina Inumaki-based adrenaline gives to the body was the perfect amount for Yuta to still make it to his room in time for him to get changed. Of course, that didn’t mean he was going to use his time responsibly.
Instead, the second Yuta got back into his room, he locked the door and collapsed onto his bed, panting with exhaustion. That shit was not what he signed up for when Gojo admitted him into this school.
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After successfully wasting his five minutes to get ready, Yuta spent thirty seconds throwing on an acceptable sparring outfit, wiping his red, sweaty, face on one of the hand towels in the bathroom. While he was dreading this session, the only small comfort was that he was going to be sparring with Maki, not Inumaki, since they were practicing similar techniques. The last thing he needed was for her to start asking him questions on why he looked so exhausted.
Sighing, Yuta opened his door, preparing himself for the stresses of the next few hours, but noticed something placed right underneath him, next to the door. That’s weird. Yuta hesitantly knelt down, bringing his eyes closer to the mystery object. It was several papers, stacked on top of one another, with a black notebook on top. Yuta sucked a sharp breath in, recognizing the neatly stacked contents.
These were his notes. The ones he fell asleep on during Gojo’s lecture.
Realization hit Yuta like a bus, as flashbacks through the last forty-five minutes ran through his mind. Inumaki had been carrying the same black notebook, as well as the stray papers, under his arm, while he had been chasing him.
Had Inumaki simply been trying to return his homework? Now that he was thinking about it, Yuta had been in such a rush to leave the classroom that he hadn't even bothered to put his things back in his bag. Was Inumaki just trying to stop him from leaving before so that he wouldn’t forget his notes? Had he been completely wrong about their whole interaction?
Yuta wanted to scream. Why was he able to literally read every other person in this entire universe, except for Inumaki.
He wasn’t even sure what was scarier, that fact that Inumaki had returned his homework even after Yuta made a whole fool of himself, or the fact that his notes had been filled in by someone else, since neat handwriting filled several pages that Yuta didn’t remember taking notes on. That someone was no doubt Inumaki, and Yuta wasn’t sure that he could bring himself to walk onto the track field, because the chance of making eye contact was much too high for his liking. This was going to be the start of his villain arc, because he sure did feel like one.
Inumaki had gone to the trouble to help Yuta out, and he repaid him by screeching like a demented bird and running like he was being chased by some sort of freakish monster.
Glancing again at the clock, he had to make a choice, now or never. He could either run away, and hope that Gojo’s six eyes break in the next fifteen minutes, or he could run all the way to the track and pray that he isn’t late and that Inumaki blissfully ignores him. Unfortunately, Yuta may be stupid, but he wasn’t dumb.
Sighing, Yuta set the notebook and papers down on his desk, eyeing the neat handwriting that filled most of the pages one last time, before beginning the grueling run to the track-field area.
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So either God hated him or Yuta just had the worst luck of anyone in this fucking universe.
He was not only late, but the second he made his way through the archway to the track, his ass somehow managed to make eye contact with Inumaki. Who not only held eye contact, but also poured as much irritation into his eyes as humanly possible. If it wasn’t clear how Inumaki felt about their whole cat and mouse game before, it is painfully clear now.
Yuta gulped, well, at least he didn’t have to spar with him.
“YUTA!” Maki barked from below, forcing Yuta to break the uncomfortable eye contact with a jolt. “GET YOUR LATE ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I GIVE YOU A REAL REASON TO BE LATE.” Yuta did not need to be told twice, nor did he think once that she was bluffing.
Collecting himself, and trying his best to pretend that he hadn't just sprinted all the way here, Yuta quickly made his way over to Maki. He braced himself for any fly punches, in case she decided a follow up to her threat was necessary, placing himself by her side. The furthest possible spot from Inumaki, might he add.
“Chill out Maki” Gojo, whom Yuta somehow managed to miss, jested. “Two minutes isn’t enough to chastise him for, so no need to chastise.” The blindfolded man grinned wildly. “And besides, I think Toge will kick his ass enough without your help.”
Hold the fuck up—
“Gojo Sensei,” the boy paused, trying to deepen his annoyingly panic-stricken voice, "did you say I’m sparring with Inumaki?” Yuta hoped the death stare he was giving to Gojo would be clear enough.
“I sure did! I think it’s time we switch things up a little bit, make things a little more interesting around here.” For a man who had six eyes, Gojo’s ability to see social cues was about as good as a blind bird trying to fly through a thicket. Oblivious to Yuta’s suffering, he continued. “Maki and Panda will partner up, and you and Toge will as well, does that sound good everyone?” Gojo clapped his hands with obvious joy, like he hadn’t just ended Yuta’s whole career.
“Yes Sensei” Yuta’s voice crack was painfully obvious, but he was to lost in the sauce of how the fuck was he going to get out of this to care.
Distenly, he heard the others agree after him, clearly allowing how tired they were of Gojo’s shit to seep into their voices. However, Yuta’s ears practically upgraded to whatever the plus version of hearing was, when Inumaki also made a sound of agreement, pointing a thumbs up in Gojo’s direction with an upsettingly cheerful ‘salmon.’ Guilt stirred in the boy’s stomach, hot and sharp. He could not have wanted to disappear more in his life.
“Oh and by the way! I’ve decided that we're going to be sparring one on one so we can all watch and learn from each other. Like a fun game of Japan’s Got Talent where your classmates are the judges.” He paused. “Only we’re fighting each other.” Gojo smiled and turned away, facing the field. “Yuta and Toge, why don’t you two go first since you kept us all waiting, Yuta?”
Yuta stood corrected, there was a time where he could have wanted to disappear more in his life. Now.
“I uh— I would love to, but are you— are you sure that we should go first? I mean, Maki and Panda have also been waiting awhile, so wouldn’t it be more fair for them to uh… go first—”
“—Salmon.” Inumaki Interrupted, stepping toward the field, beckoning Yuta forward with his hand. Fuck.
“Alright you two, go warm up on the field, I’ll let you know when you can start.” Gojo held up a hand, waving at them to make their way to the field quicker.
Yuta’s legs had never felt so heavy in his life.
He did his best to avoid Inumaki, his back turned away from the other boy as he stretched his own limbs. He was already painfully sore from sprinting earlier, his legs aching in protest. Sighing internally, Yuta frowned, there was no way he could get out of this.
Stealing a glance behind him, Yuta hoped that Inumaki was also feeling the effects of their encounter. Not to wish ill on the other boy, but to save himself from unnecessary hurt. Unfortunately, Inumaki was jumping up and down, performing one-legged squats and doing some weird gang-sign type shit with his arms to stretch. He wasn’t tired at all, that run had just been a warm up for him.
Yuta shivered, remembering how quickly Inumaki managed to catch up to him. It wasn’t like he was slow or anything, he couldn’t imagine what Inumaki was actually capable of during a real fight. Not to mention the cursed speech he had, yeah, that was also a pretty big nope for Yuta. If he was lucky (he wasn’t) maybe Gojo would set a limit on what each of them were allowed to do.
“Alrighty you two!” Gojo’s chipper voice broke Yuta from his thoughts, causing him to whip around to find the white-haired man right in the middle of himself and Inumaki. “Get to your positions, I want a clean fight, no like, throwing dirt in eachother’s faces and stuff.” He paused, thinking for a second, before coming to a conclusion, “But other than that, anything's game.”
Great, just great. He was 100% about to get fully beat up.
Starting intently at the ground, Yuta made his way to the opposite end of the sparring field as Inumaki, trying to mentally prepare himself. He wasn't as good in hand to hand combat as he was with his wooden staff or sword, but Gojo hadn’t given him the option or the time to retrieve either of them from the weapon’s shack, (unofficially named) so he assumed that was off the table. Another crack at him being late? Probably. Hopefully Inumaki was unprepared as well, since Yuta had never actually seen him fight before, too wrapped up in his own sparring matches with Maki to pay attention to Inumaki and Panda’s
However, when Yuta finally made it to the appropriate spot on the field, he looked up, only to find that Inumaki was staring directly at him, his eyes curved upward with obvious joy. Yuta felt his heart pound in his chest, not only was the cursed speech user clearly ready to beat his ass, he was excited about it.
“Hey,” Yuta whispered, hoping to save himself some level of hurt during this fight, “I, I just want to say I’m sorry ab— about earlier, I freaked myself out after you woke me up, and uh, assumed the worst.” He finished his half-assed apology, looking back at the ground, unable to keep eye contact any longer.
If Yuta had looked up, he would have seen Inumaki’s eyes soften, a quiet smile forming underneath his scarf. “Mustard Leaf, Salmon Salmon.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, studying the other.
“Uhmm, thank you.” Yuta prayed that his inability to understand the boy wouldn’t be taken the wrong way. He really was appreciative, even if Inumaki wasn’t actually acknowledging his apology.
“Ok gang” Gojo interrupted Yuta’s thoughts, “If you guys are done flirting with one another, you can start whenever.” If Yuta wasn’t so busy trying to hide the traitorous blush that was creeping onto his face, he would’ve seen the shit-eating grin Gojo wore. However, he had bigger problems to worry about.
“Salmon Roe,” was the only warning Yuta got before Inumaki came at him, again, at full speed.
Whipping around, Yuta just barely managed to dodge a powerful-looking punch aimed right for his head, only to get jabbed in the stomach as the other boy made a quick pivot, rerouting himself to throw more punches. Damn, the Sonic-like spike’s Inumaki wore on his head were well deserved, because this kid was fast as fuck.
All hope of his apology dampening Inumaki’s motivation to beat the shit out of him flew out of his mind as he made a dodge for another wave of upsettingly well placed attacks. A punch here, a couple jabs there. Hell, he even threw in a kick that was sure to leave a bruise. Inumaki wasn’t even pretending to go easy on him, and if he kept this pace up, Yuta would be beaten in the next few minutes, and even though his poor body felt like it was at death's door, no pain was worse than the embarrassment he was sure to feel if he got knocked out of the ring in a minute. He needed a new plan, to stop going on the defensive and try to make a few moves himself.
Sucking in a breath, Yuta waited for Inumaki to throw another punch, but this time, instead of dodging, Yuta deflected it with his own arm. Hissing in pain as he took more of the hit than he originally intended.
Inumaki was unprepared for the switch up, stumbling forward slightly. He may have only lost his footing for a mere second, but that was all Yuta needed to throw an elbow in Inumaki’s direction. Still recovering from his loss of balance, Inumaki was unable to quickly dodge the attack, grunting and stumbling back, as Yuta’s blow hit him square on the shoulder.
However, Yuta’s victory was short-lived. Yuta prepared for a second blow, hoping his first had caught Inumaki off guard enough for him to land a solid side-kick as well. Lifting one of his legs to attack, Yuta kicked hard, hoping to show Inumaki that he wasn’t going to be an easy win. Apology or no apology, he wasn’t going to give up. However, the boy misjudged how fast Inumaki could recover, since a split second before his kick could land, Inumaki shifted slightly so that Yuta’s leg would land in the crook of his arm and hip, missing it’s main target.
Inumaki was literally holding Yuta’s leg hostage.
Realizing his mistake, Yuta tried to wrench his leg out of Inumaki’s grasp, twisting and pulling the limp in desperation. Inumaki’s eyes twisted upwards at the struggle, knowing he just fucked up Yuta’s entire strategy. Yuta reached for Inumaki’s uniform, trying to even out the playing field by knocking Inumaki off balance as well. It would be better for Yuta if they both fell, not just him. But before his hands could reach him, Inumaki shifted the leg again so it was suspended in the air for about half a second, wasting no time to quickly grab Yuta’ calf with both hands. The panicked boy had about 0.43 seconds to comprehend the strong grip on his leg, before Inumaki yanked him forward, pulling his leg hard.
Yuta couldn’t help but let out a small, undignified yelp, as he fell forward into Inumaki, who had already taken the next step in his offensive plan. In the split second Yuta had been yanked forward, Inumaki repositioned himself and his arms into an optimal headlocking position, creating the perfect trap for Yuta. Unable to regain his balance, he was unceremoniously half-spun by Inumaki, so that Yuta’s back was facing the boy. Once he made contact, however, quick arms materialized from both sides of his vision, one landing around his neck and the other securing the top of his head. Yuta was bent at an indefensible position, completely trapped in the headlock.
They stood like that for a few seconds, both grunting with effort, trying to suppress the other. Yuta knew what Inumaki was waiting for, finding it in himself to try to look up to meet the other boy’s gaze. He needed Yuta to tap-out to win. To give up.
Yuta thought for a moment, and the world seemed to slow down. Technically, he had done more than enough to prove himself, yeah, that was evident enough in the way Inumaki was currently struggling with effort to keep him trapped. If he tapped out now, it would be an acceptable loss, an honorable attempt at an impossible battle.
But deep down, Yuta wasn’t ready to give up.
Especially since, with his current view in the headlock, he could see the other first years, completely transfixed with their fight. He liked that. He liked that they weren’t watching because Gojo was making them, they were watching because they wanted to know who was going to win. And judging by the looks on both their faces, they weren’t sure who that was going to be. In some strange way, that gave Yuta both hope and a weird form of twisted strength. He wasn’t just some awkward transfer student, he could fight.
Was this… the power of friendship?
And with that thought, and an embarrassingly loud final grunt of effort, he shifted his body down, using all the strength he had left in his drained form to escape. Lucky for Yuta, the sudden movement left Inumaki unprepared, as he was able to slip from the cursed speech user’s tight grip, arching his back downward like he was about to perform a kick-over.
Determined to keep his lead, Yuta quickly snapped his spine back into a normal shape, readjusting his position back into a defensive stance. Placing his hands on the soft grass, it was a welcome distraction to the aching in his limbs, one that he was choosing to ignore as the boy kicked out one of his legs, tripping Inumaki.
The cursed speech user fell with a thud, the grass bending to his shape underneath him. In order to save himself, Inumaki reached for the ground, desperately trying to push back up and out of the compromising position he was in. But before he could, Yuta literally leapt onto him, pinning Inumaki’s limps to the ground with a wince. Yuta wasn’t sure if the action had hurt him or Inumaki more. Now fully incapable of fighting, Yuta stared down at his immoble sparring partner.
“Do you yield?” Yuta voiced through his teeth, low and gruff. He hoped the strain in his voice didn’t reveal his exhaustion too much.
Inumaki simply stared at him for a moment, expressionless, before his eyes twisted upward, indicating some sort of amusement or joy.
Did he think this was funny? Yuta literally had him pinned down, there was no way for him to redeem himself, the dark-haired boy himself could feel the weakness that had crept into Inumaki’s limbs, and after the whole headlocking paragraph, Inumaki was surely just as exhausted as he was. He would have to tap-out eventually, and Yuta would be fine to wait—
“Relax.”
Yuta gasped as he felt the cursed energy enter his ears before he felt it in his body. That single word placed itself onto his eyelids, like the world’s heaviest weight, smoothing out his racing mind into a comfortable rhythm of silence. It felt like he was being dragged through honey, artificial bliss. Without so much as a drop of resistance, Yuta’s limbs turned to jelly, his traitorous muscles going limp and useless. Unable to hold himself upright, the boy was forced to watch, eyes half-lidded in what he assumed was horror as his full weight was dropped directly onto Inumaki’s pinned body.
And when he said full weight, he meant full weight.
Yuta’s head unceremoniously collapsed comfortably on Inumaki’s chest, his limbs laying uselessly on either side of him. If he wasn’t chained to cloud nine right now, Yuta would be absolutely appalled by himself. Using the very person he was trying to avoid, as a pillow, was not part of plan A. But unfortunately, (lets be so real, fortunately) Yuta could do nothing, completely at the mercy of the other.
Inumaki, however, seemed to find Yuta’s little brain vacation hilarious, snickering quietly at the limp boy on top of him.
For a few quick moments, Inumaki just let Yuta stay like this, completely relaxed, his breathing slow and calm, wearing a peaceful expression. While Yuta’s perspective on Inumaki may have been severely inaccurate, in many ways, he did get a few things right. Inumaki was extremely observant, he prided himself on it actually. And while Yuta had been busy trying (and failing) to understand Inumaki, Inumaki himself had been busy understanding Yuta. Through his silent observations, he learned that the cursed boy was a tad bit shy, constantly showing signs of anxiety, but sweet in a way that he didn’t want to be a burden on others, finding excuses to help while still trying to be nonchalant and quiet. It didn't work most of the time. Inumaki also couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under the boy’s eyes, showing off his lack of sleep like a full fledged neon flag.
With all this in mind, Inumaki secretly held a soft spot for Yuta, always trying to show interest in the rare occasions Yuta would talk to the group, or providing comfort in a soft pat on the shoulder, whenever Yuta seemed especially stressed out. Unfortunately, Yuta’s socially constipated ass wasn’t able to comprehend Inumaki’s friendly gestures, and decided they were threats. Inumaki wasn’t sure why, but the dark-haired boy always seemed so on edge when he was around, it made his heart tighten with something along the lines of disappointment and guilt. He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong to scare the boy, but he did know that cursed speech carried an ominous reputation. However, as much as Yuta wanted to hide from the world, he wouldn’t be able to forever. So one thing led to another and now they were there.
Deciding that keeping Yuta on his chest any longer would result in questions he didn’t want to answer, Inumaki gently shifted the limp boy onto his side, cradling his head as Yuta was carefully set down onto the soft grass. He stirred lightly, the effects of the cursed speech waning slowly, quickened by the strength of Rika’s cursed energy.
Still smiling silently under his scarf, Inumaki moved himself to be positioned directly over Yuta, similar to how Yuta had him pinned only a few minutes earlier. His smile growing wider, Inumaki made a move toward Yuta’s wrists, pinning him down the exact same way he had done to Inumaki. Mostly for show, since Yuta was in no condition to fight back. The dark-haired boy stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, slowly coming back to his senses.
“Salmon?” Inumaki tilted his head, his tone a cheery, but soft question: ‘do you yield?’
For a moment, Yuta didn’t say anything, simply making hard eye contact with Inumaki. In fact, this went on so uncomfortably long, that Inumaki didn’t think he was going to say anything, still too out of it to give an answer. However, Yuta broke the silence, a happy grin bubbling onto his face.
“Salmon.” Yuta bobbed his head up and down in sloppy agreement.
.
.
.
“It’s not your fault.” Gojo assured, a hand landing on Yuta’s back, “Toge’s cursed speech is no joke, I’m surprised he didn’t use it to win sooner.”
Yuta sat next to Gojo, extremely confused.
Just fifteen minutes earlier, he had had Inumaki pinned, completely at his mercy, a sure victory in his sights. Then, in a matter of seconds, the whole world turned blurry and he woke up underneath the cursed speech user.
Strangely calm, might he add.
“Salmon,” Inumaki agreed from the other side of Gojo. Bringing Yuta back to reality
“I’m sure he just told you to sleep at the last second, there really wasn’t anything you could do to stop him” Gojo continued, although Yuta was only half listening.
“Is that so?” Yuta disantly watched Panda and Maki spar on the field in front of them, Panda was hilariously unaffected by Maki’s blows, and it was obvious the cursed doll was holding back. Panda would occasionally smack her with a fluffy paw, most of which she dodged, but incredibly effective when she didn’t.
“Mhm, that’s why Toge here is a grade two sorcerer.” Gojo waved his intex finger back and forth in affirmation.
“But aren't I a special grade?” Yuta questioned, remembering what he and Maki had learned during that one elementary school mission they had gone on.
Gojo grinned. “Yes, but Toge has years of training and experience on you, I just wanted to test you both and see how you would react in new situations.”
“Tuna mayo?” Inumaki made a hopeful sound.
Yuta’s mouth tilted upward, finally glad he could understand the cursed speed user for once. “Yeah, did we pass?”
Gojo’s smile widened, “with flying colors.” He paused, rising to his feet, “red, blue and purple especially.” He winked and began to make his way toward Panda and Maki, who seemed to be struggling. Panda mostly, as Maki somehow had managed to get her hands around the bear’s neck, and was aggressively strangling him. Jesus, what a terrifying woman.
With Gojo gone, Yuta was left to sit alone with Inumaki, the silence comfortable. For some reason, Yuta couldn’t bring himself to be stressed about his close proximity to Inumaki. It might have been the exhaustion of the day or simply how the recent events had panned out, but Yuta found that plan A was getting more and more unnecessary by the second. If that fight hadn’t triggered Rika, nothing Inumaki could do would.
“Hey,” Yuta broke the silence. “Thanks for not blowing me up back there, I really appreciate it” Yuta thanked his mouth internally for not stuttering uselessly, turning his head to smile gently at the boy next to him.
Inumaki matched his smile, holding up one of his hands. “Salmon Salmon,” which to Yuta sounded a lot like ‘thanks for not letting Rika murder me either.’
He raised his own arm to complete the wholesome getsure, the contact of their hands reminding him of his guilt with a quiet clap. Yuta’s chest burned, willing him to right his previous wrong.
“Also, um,” the boy looked at his feet, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Sorry for running away from you earlier, I thought you were mad at me or something since I fell asleep during class.”
If the expression Inumaki wore could speak, it would’ve probably asked, ‘are you actually fucking serious right now?’ But it couldn’t, so instead he said “bonito flakes,” hoping that the deadpan in his eyes could capture his disappointment.
Luckily, Yuta seemed to get the point.
“What do you mean ‘bonito flakes’? How was I supposed to know you were trying to give me my notes?” The dark haired boy protested, throwing both his hands in a playful questioning manner. “You came at me at like, Sonic speed man.”
The cursed speech user only grinned in response, like a devious little child.
“Thanks for finishing them for me.” Words slowly came easier, as Yuta felt himself grow more comfortable with the light haired boy, his previous worries forgotten. Why had he been so nervous around him again? “You have nice handwriting, by the way.”
“Kelp.”
“You know— ,” Yuta continued, deciding that he didn’t want to end his conversation with the other boy just yet, “You didn’t have to do that, I should've been awake to take my own notes.” The apology came naturally to him, like muscle memory. “I didn’t mean to make extra work for you.”
Inumaki was silent for a moment, violet eyes watching the other boy closely, studying him. After about two seconds, he decidedly found what he had been searching for, gently bringing his right hand up to Yuta’s face, pointing at the dark half-circles that decorated his eyes. He tilted his head, “Salmon.”
It took a second for Yuta to register what Inumaki was referring to, since he was also half-focused on fighting off the blush that dared to rise across his cheeks, unprepared for their close distance and the gentleness in the light haired boy’s tone.
“Ah— yeah, yeah, I guess you're right. I kind of did need a little sleep.” Yuta scrambled out. He looked down, hoping that Inumaki wouldn’t notice the pink that dusted his cheeks, embarrassed with his confession.
Inumaki did in fact notice.
“Tunaaa~” The cursed speech user cooed, bending down, trying to make eye contact with Yuta’s scrunched form. His expression was that of a shit-eater, his grin so wide it probably distorted his scarf a little. Yuta didn’t check though, he was too busy burying his face in the collar of his uniform, the action only encouraging Inumaki, who brought a finger up to Yuta’s forehead, ‘wagging’ it in the dark haired boy’s messy bangs in a mocking manner.
It was at that moment that Yuta realized he had been right to be wary of Inumaki, the kid was an absolute menace.
However, even though his embarrassment, something inside Yuta brightened, like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Maybe it was the small snicker from Inumaki that sent shivers down his spine, or maybe it was the gentleness of his finger in his hair, or maybe it was just the simple act of friendliness, but Yuta allowed himself to see Inumaki as a possible friend once more.