Chapter Text
Yuuji wakes up. He remembers something blue in the dark before he was knocked unconscious. It takes a moment to register where he is and when he does, his heart plummets. Hospitals are the worst fucking places in this apocalypse. They drew curses like flies to a rotting corpse. They are a target rich environment, made all the more so by the desperate, hurting people who flocked to them. Once the power grids shut down, many of the patients died. Entire ICUs collapsed and what remained were very limited in what they could do to help the pieces of people Choso and Yuuji brought to them. What hospital staff remained in the buildings protected by sorcerers and/or cops and/or military were fast running low on supplies.
It feels weird to wake up in one that doesn’t reek of desperation and despair. He stares at the ceiling for a long time. It’s even weirder to be warm.
He can hear the usual hustle and bustle outside the doors but no screaming. This hospital must have a lot of painkillers somehow. That explains the drowsiness and heaviness in his limbs. Even his hands that normally feel achy didn’t hurt. Maybe he’s fallen into the hands of a faction of some sorts. His hands aren’t shackled to the bed frame and he shifts in bed, ignoring the pain lancing down his side. The silence is painful.
After Shibuya, plenty of people just snapped. They screamed or they were silent. It was the quiet ones that scared Yuuji the most. They were trapped in that moment and forced to relive it forever.
That was another thing, hospitals smelled like antiseptic. He’d gotten used to the smell after his grandfather got sicker but he’d never liked it. He’d grown to like the rotting smell of an infected wound even less. Something was wrong here.
A jacket is draped over the chair next to him, large enough to swamp the blue plastic frame in tan fabric.
They must have someone watching me. He thinks and then Nanami walks in and Yuuji stops breathing for a moment. He’s never seen his hair falling over his forehead out of its perfectly coiffed style or his blue shirt he wrinkled. His tie is loosened a little. Hes got a 5 o’clock shadow and his face isn’t burned. But the shadows under his eyes are familiar, as is the concern on them. He looks like he’s stepped out of a memory Yuuji hasn’t lived.
“Ah, Itadori.” He greets him calmly, like he isn’t dead. “You’re awake.”
Speechless, Yuuji just stares at him. Nanami sets down his bottle of green tea and scooping up his coat.
“I’ll go call your classmates. They’ll be relived-“
It’s got to be a dream. Or a nightmare. His mentor’s head is going to explode or he’s going to catch on fire and writhe and scream in agony. He’s had those ever since shibuya in the rare moments Choso persuades him to rest. Maybe it’s an illusion set by a cursed spirit. Maybe he’s finally gone insane and is staring at nothing somewhere with Choso slumped at his side. Without his permission, his fingers twitch towards the older sorcerer.
Nanami looks at his coat in one hand then down at Yuuji and then obligingly drapes the coat over him and goes as far to tuck it in, face as serious as if he were patting him down after a battle. Yuuji flinches at how warm his large hands are and Nanami withdraws immediately, brown eyes examining him critically behind his green glasses.
“Yuuji, do you know where you are?” Yuuji shakes his head
“Hospital?” He rasps and Nanami eyes narrow.
“Do you know the date?” He prods, Yuuji squints back at his mentor. Time has been weird since shit hit the fan. A lot of phones stopped working for some reason and were about as useful as bricks. Measuring time in eating and sleeping didn’t work since according to Choso, he didn’t do enough of either.
“Uh…it doesn’t matter anymore.” He answers feeling the numbness grip him again, what a weird dream. Maybe he’ll get Nanami killed in this one again. Maybe he’ll be the one to level the hospital, sukuna pulling the strings. It doesn’t really matter, he wishes sukuna wouldn’t torture him like this. Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose
“Yes, it does matter because you likely have a concussion. I need to know how long you were out.” He explains patiently. When Yuuji doesn’t answer him he frowns. He can just imagine the way his face will start burning, he can already smell the burnt hair. Maybe he will start to speak, but it will be Sukuna’s voice.
Is nothing I have sacred? He cries out to the curse and squeezes shut his eyes so he doesn’t have to see. Sukuna doesn’t answer but he hears Nanami’s heavy footsteps walk away. He hears running water briefly and then Nanami is helping him sit up,
“Don't fall asleep just yet. You may have a concussion. Here, drink.” he brings it back to him and helps him sit up by elevating his bed and tucking the pillows behind him.
“I wish you were real,” Yuuji whispered. Nanami leaned forward and then back, an abbreviated movement that communicates a strange uncertainty Yuuji never glimpsed in the adult.
“I am not sure of your state of mind or how you survived or obtained these other injuries but rest assured, I am real, Itadori. You are safe. You are at Tokyo hospital and two weeks have passed since your disappearance.”
That feels wrong. A dream is never like this. The hospital sheets are scratchy and the pillow is comfortable. His hands still ache. He can smell the antiseptic, he can hear someone being paged. Nothing makes sense. His heart is starting to hammer and he can hear the beeping of his heart monitor increasing. Nanami seems alive but his death is on Yuuji’s head, he can sometimes still taste the smell of his burning hair.