Work Text:
Day had long since turned to darkness. The sky was an inky black abyss, and clouds carefully dispersed over the horizon, forming large, billowing images that danced across the firmament. The moon was positioned low in the air, an enormous sphere of silvery light brightening Ijichi’s office, barely breaching the Tokyo skyline, with skyscrapers that protruded from the earth like sharp stones, jutting above the skyline.
The evening was tepid, if brisk, and a pleasant breeze flowed through the office. All was well. Or it would be, if it were not 2 in the morning, and Ijichi was still at his desk.
Ijichi sat at his table, staring deep into the shining fluorescence of his laptop screen. His eyes were drooping, his head periodically nodding as he phased in and out of sleep, clicking through Excel sheets and documents, cross-referencing, typing in each and every number, letter and symbol with perfect precision.
Well.
Near-perfect precision.
You see, Ijichi struggled with sleep. To an extreme degree. Not only with getting and staying asleep but also with knowing when to actually go to bed, rather than toiling over his work until morning. He could never quite gauge where the limit was, and tended to…overshoot this limit and find himself head-down at his desk a few days later, being rudely shaken awake by Gojo-san begging him to drive him somewhere or other.
Ijichi was quickly getting used to the feeling of his eyes being weighed down, his head foggy and stuffed with cotton balls, and his hands being a little less steady than they used to be.
After years of melatonin and trying to exercise more—and that’s not to mention the countless doctors’ visits and diets—Ijichi had to accept one thing: he would never have a night of rest. And if he did, it would be a miracle, and he would gladly begin believing in a higher power.
So, rather than spending countless hours awake, tossing and turning until the sun rose, Ijichi worked. Day and night. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well try to be productive.
His once unsteady hands were now beginning to quiver and tremor. Ijichi could barely type without his fingers fumbling. His eyes would blur, even with his glasses on, and he would bump into shelves, or desks, or even Nanami.
He was lucky Nanami was actually somewhat nice. If it were Gojo, he might never hear the end of it.
That’s not even mentioning the meetings. In almost every meeting in the last week, someone or other had asked a very important question, and Ijichi had responded with a very educated, well-thought-out response, which usually went along the lines of:
“Hwuh?”
…safe to say, Ijichi was not in top shape.
When was the last time he had slept in a bed? He had no clue, he would have to check his diary.
When was the last time he slept? Who needs sleep when you can work until your eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets?
…He needed sleep. There was only one option.
Beg.
Ijichi was an expert in this aspect. It was a simple process. One: Go up to the higher-ups, shuffle your feet a bit, and speak very softly about why you’re there. Two: When they initially refuse, make it look like you’re about to cry, and start trembling. They will then begin asking questions. It’s perfectly fine to lie a little bit. Three: Profit.
He knew exactly when and how to beg. He would not make himself pitiable, but he would be just quiet enough, look just dejected enough for them to—somewhat—empathise with him.
But, he did not beg for trivial things. Not for holidays or shorter hours. He begged for a better budget for the school, begged for more staff and better treatment for the students. He would implore them to implement things that were worthwhile for all, not just a silly holiday for himself. Though, perhaps he should’ve.
Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a day off.
But today, he was left shivering in the heat of summer as he looked up at Gojo-san. He was about to do it. He was going to be very selfish and ask for a holiday.
How dare he?
His head pounded, like a hammer bashing into his skull. It was almost like being concussed.
It was probably the heat. The height of summer tended to be stiflingly hot, and the humidity never made it much better. Ijichi had meant to invest in a portable fan months ago, but he had never gotten around to it.
His hands trembled as his fingers laced together, carefully choosing each word as he pleaded his case.
“It’s just that- I would like to work my best, but I’m running on fumes.” He sucked in a shaky breath, sweat beginning to drip down his temple. “I won’t be able to last much longer like this. I need a break.” He said as firmly as possible, not quite meeting his superior’s eyes.
Gojo smiled, wide and crooked, tilting his head slightly. “Are you not going to say Please, Ijichi?” He stepped closer, towering over Ijichi. He shrank back, stammering as Gojo closed the distance.
Gojo’s hand pushed into his neck, shoving him down into a low bow, staring down at him with a smirk. “Respect your superiors, Ijichi-kun.” He leaned towards Ijichi’s trembling lips with a grin, hand tightening against the top of his spine—digging into the muscles and tendons—sending ripples of pain up into his head. His temples throbbed, the pain spreading into his sinuses, pressure building behind his eyes as they watered.
He swayed precariously, trembling hands coming up to grip onto Gojo’s sleeve. The second his fingers brushed against Gojo, the hand on his spine flinched away and Ijichi fell to the floor in an aching heap. “I-I’m sorry…” He heaved with each sob that wracked his body. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, please-” he said in a dithering voice, sucking in sharp gasps of air.
He reached out once more, his legs like gelatin, unable to get himself together and just get up! He looked up with bated breath.
And he was completely alone.
He let out a long, quivering sigh, and collapsed in a neat heap on the floor.
It was sweltering. Despite this, Ijichi stood outside diligently, waiting for Gojo to return from a mission.
The veil had been put up, everything was in order, and Ijichi already had everything ready to transcribe what Gojo said about the curse. So why did something feel off?
He just couldn’t quite place it. A similar feeling to a headache. A little lightheaded, really.
It hadn’t been that long since he had last eaten. He had lunch yesterday with Nitta. And the last time he slept was…
Was…
What had once been just dizziness was quickly escalating. The world felt like it was flipping on its axis, quicker and quicker with each rotation; like riding a rollercoaster, flipping through the air in a vast arc, his stomach dropping, his heart pounding. He could feel each sweat droplet snake its way down his cheeks. He swayed and dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
He opened his eyes and found himself supine on the floor, staring up at globs of colour which he couldn’t quite identify.
What on earth had happened? Had he been attacked? Is that why he was on the floor?
He tried to lift himself, and two hands forcefully pushed him back down to the floor. “Don’t move!”
Was that… Gojo?
“Gojo-san? What-”
“I don’t know; the veil went down, and I came out here, and you were just on the floor! What, did you decide to take a nap in the middle of a very important mission?” Gojo huffed, leaning closer to check for any injuries. Even though Ijichi couldn’t see him, he could sense the smirk on his face.
“…what? A nap?”
“Yeah, you were asleep. You’ve earned a very firm forehead flick for this one, Ijichi-kun. How unprofessional!”
He shot up, the world spinning once more. “I was ASLEEP?” He screamed, trying to get up. He could barely see anything. His glasses probably fell off.
“Uh… yeah? For, like, a minute or two-” He paused, “ohhhh… ‘running on fumes’ is right. Why didn’t you just say so? I could’ve—”
“I DID! I asked for a break; I asked to have some of my workload taken care of; and you said I was being disrespectful? And now look what has happened!”
He couldn’t stop himself. He had two choices: get it all out now or stay quiet.
“So yes, Gojo. ‘Running on fumes’ is right. I’m going to put the veil back up. Finish in five minutes. Next time I ask for a holiday, I’m going straight to Yaga.”
Gojo went quiet and then sighed. “It’s whatever, y’know? The curse was a grade four, and I already got rid of it, so you don't have to… do all that.” Gojo held his hand out towards him, palm up, holding out his glasses.
Ijichi snatched the glasses away and huffed. “Good. I’ll drive you back to the school and then I'm going home.” He said, eyes watery as he put his glasses on.
“Do you want me to drive-”
“NO!” He went quiet for a moment, pursing his lips; “No. I’ll be fine.” His lip quivered. “I’ll be fine.”
It would all be fine, he promised himself. Just one day off.