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He was unsure when it had begun. Perhaps when he met with the boy, on a temperate spring day, the flowers began to blossom and bloom. That was the second time meeting with him.
That day had not been nice, a direct consequence of their first conversation.
The first had been a dark and gloomy day standing in front of a juvenile detention centre, the rain drumming against the tin roofs. The boy was exceedingly formal then, referring to him by his full last name, including an honorific.
Then, Ijichi had driven the boy home in a body bag, to be tested and then cremated. His heart thumped as Itadori’s heart sat stagnant in a plastic bag.
But that second time, in a cold, sterile room, it was not the same. The boy had awoken, looked around, and began speaking. The empty cavern where his heart had once resided filled once again.
The boy was to remain dead, in the eyes of the law. But to his eyes– to Ijichi’s eyes– he was the most lively boy in the world.
He had immediately been assigned to his case, not that he had much choice in the matter, and the prior formality had disappeared.
Ijichi was as formal as ever, of course. He couldn't risk being unprofessional in this line of work, but he allowed himself to smile whenever he heard Itadori-kun call him that blasted nickname.
“Iji-san? Are you okay?” He had said quietly one day, whilst being driven to a mission somewhere.
His hands clenched tight around the wheel, trying not to sniffle or shake at the sweet words.
It was not only nice to see the boy had come to trust him, but nice to trust someone in turn.
“I'm alright, Itadori-kun. Please do not worry about me, I can take care of myself.” He said humbly, dipping his chin slightly and staring straight at the road, a grin tugging at his thin lips.
“Yeah right, you look exhausted! Do you even sleep, Iji-san? When did you last eat as well, your stomach has been complaining this entire time.” Itadori pointed out, leaning back in the passenger seat, his hands moving to pick at the buttons on his uniform.
He felt himself blush. He hadn't slept in a while, he could admit that much. He could feel his exhaustion weighing him down. Ijichi hadn't looked in a mirror recently either, he cringed at the thought of how dishevelled he might look.
His stomach had been quite loud as well. There was hardly any time for food when you were trying not to get your colleagues and students killed at any given moment.
“I suppose you're right. I'll make sure to eat after this mission-“
THUMP!
Something heavy had landed in his lap.
“Pull over and eat that,” Itadori said, with a slight smile on his face.
He looked down. A small lunchbox, surprisingly heavy for its size, rested in the valley of his thighs, perched precariously.
He slowly pulled over onto the curb and opened the box.
It was filled to the brim with udon noodles. His favourite. He looked over at Itadori, who simply grinned at him.
“I noticed you looked tired lately, so I asked around for your favourite food. Hopefully, I got it right.” He said with a dismissive wave, before pulling some chopsticks out of his pocket, and waving them in front of Ijichi’s face.
He slowly took the chopsticks and stared down at the meal, longing to eat. He pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I'm not going to eat your lunch, Itadori.” He said firmly. The boy simply grinned back.
“It's not mine, though. I made it for you, Iji-san! You're, like, the only person who knows I'm alive, so you deserve it.” He explained with a shrug, moving to set his feet on the dashboard, earning him a harsh smack on the calf from Ijichi.
“What was that for!” He groaned, setting his feet back down.
“For putting your feet up in my car.” He mumbled through a mouthful of noodles. He felt Itadori’s fist nudge him on the shoulder, muttering something about being ‘so uptight’ before the car went silent.
The food was delicious. Perfectly cooked, just the way he liked. Seasoned just the right amount, and adequately healthy.
He finally set the chopsticks down and looked at Itadori. “Why do you call me that anyway?” He questioned softly, wiping his mouth with a tissue.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” He said with a confused look, scratching at one of the scars under his eyes. “Oh, do you mean when I call you Iji-san?”
“I'm not sure what else I would be referring to.” He teased lightly, fingers drumming against the plastic bento.
Itadori shrugged softly and let his head loll over to rest against the window. “Well, it feels weird to be so formal. You deserve a nickname, just like Nanamin!” He said with a bright grin, glancing at Ijichi.
Ijichi let his brows furrow slightly, a slight frown settling onto his tired face. “What about Gojo-san? Does he not deserve a nickname?” He asked mildly, leaning back in his seat as he brought another noodle into his mouth.
“I haven't thought of a nickname for him yet.” He said plainly. “It's only two syllables! What can I do with that?” He huffed, stretching his arms above his head.
That boy could never sit still.
“Alright then. Should I make a nickname for you as well?” Ijichi asked a shy grin spread on his sunken cheeks.
“Just Yuuji is fine! You've been calling me ‘Itadori-kun’ this whole time.” He said and then clicked his tongue. “So formal.” He sighed.
“Alright Yuuji-kun.” He said, his lips forming slowly around the foreign words. It was nice, he decided.
Itadori– no. Yuuji smiled at him brightly. Maybe nicknames weren't so bad.