Work Text:
How could one man be so lucky?
Toge Inumaki, a second-year student at Tokyo Jujutsu High. To others, he's quiet, aloof, somewhat mysterious. Maybe even downright unapproachable. In reality, time is all it takes to understand him - in more ways than one.
Because of his inherited cursed speech, it’s pretty clear that Inumaki shouldn’t talk much. That doesn’t mean he won’t, though. Somehow, he came up with a whole system of safewords so he wouldn’t accidentally curse anyone. It took around a year and some change for everyone to understand what these words meant, considering it sounded like he was just shouting ingredients from time to time. (Sometimes you still believe he does just to throw people off.)
It took you a long while to realize he was into you. Maki suspected this way before you did, and she still calls you stupid for not catching on sooner. But how could you? You barely understood what he was saying half the time, his kind glances toward you always felt friendly, and goddamnit, how were you supposed to see his expression with that stupidly high collar covering half his face?
Part of the reason you believed he couldn’t be attracted to you was denial.
You’d always been a bit chubby. You've been teased for your weight repeatedly. You weren’t big. No. Just a bit above average. You had rolls, thick legs, and sometimes needed bigger shirts, but you were still a person, right? Just a regular person.
It was your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu High. You’d been so busy over summer break you barely had time to think about your appearance. But now that you were getting back into the school cycle — and since it was the first week (you were still doing all those stupid “getting to know me” worksheets) — you suddenly had more time to think. And unfortunately, those first thoughts were about your looks.
You stopped eating altogether around the second week of school. You told yourself that being skinny would solve everything, but really, all it was doing was making you unbelievably tired.
You sat on the rooftop during lunch. It was quiet, peaceful, and gave you time to get away from the crowds. You’d listen to music, stare at the people below chatting. Toge sat there too. Actually, he was always there before you. You two never spoke; you’d give him a tired smile as you passed by, and he’d return a gentle glance. He sat on a bench near the staircase while you sat on the floor by the railing. Your paths didn’t cross much, until one day.
You were staring at the lunch your mom packed you. She’d always made your lunches, ever since elementary school. You were holding the small post-it note she tucked in. It always said something sweet, maybe an “I love you. You got this.” or a line from a lullaby you loved as a child. You never knew how to answer when she asked why you came home with a full bento box. It wasn’t wasteful. She would just eat it if you hadn’t.
You heard faint shuffling as you poked at a rice ball with your chopsticks, and suddenly felt a presence beside you.
Toge.
He sat down so close your knees touched.
He noticed you. Hard to believe, but he did. He saw how you would hesitantly stare at your lunch before shoving it back into your bag. How some days you didn’t eat at all.
You didn’t say anything. He didn’t either.
After a few moments, his nimble fingers picked something from his own box and placed it into yours - a single rice cracker.
“What?” you asked.
“Salmon.”
“Salmon?”
He gestured toward the cracker. You blinked, and despite your confusion at the… seemingly random word… you took a bite. Then another. When you finished, it sat heavy in your stomach. Not physically, but emotionally. Guilt. Why was he giving you this? No. Why did you take it?
He gently set his bento between you both, offering the rest if you wanted. And you did.
So the two of you sat there quietly, watching the people below, your fingers occasionally brushing when one of you reached for another cracker, until they were all gone.
From then on, he thought about you. Not obsessively, but in those small ways. I wonder what she’s up to. You two were never close; again, your paths didn’t cross much except during lunch. You assumed that day on the rooftop had been a one-off stroke of kindness.
You found a note shoved into your bag a couple months into the semester.
You didn’t recognize the handwriting, and whatever was scribbled on the paper wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Something like, “I think you’re beautiful.” Something like, “I wish you’d speak to me more.” Blah blah blah…
A love letter? A secret admirer?
As your second year approached, slowly but surely, you began eating again. And you wondered who the note could’ve been from. Someone handsome, maybe? Someone pretty? Tall? Brown hair? Or maybe he’s blonde? Who’s to say it was even a he?
You didn’t care who they were - you just knew they liked your body. And that was the first time in a long time anyone outside your family had said that.
Back to the present: you were staring down at shopping bags from various stores. You’d gone on a little spree today. And God, did you remember why you hated it. Finding clothes in your size was hard, finding clothes in your size that were cute was nearly impossible. (Seriously. Just because you’re big doesn’t mean you should be limited to grandma dresses.)
It was nearing the end of your second year. Gojo suggested taking his students — and a few others — out to dinner to celebrate everyone’s hard work. Toge would be invited, of course. “The more the merrier,” as he said. The thought of looking stupid in front of your boyfriend made your stomach churn even worse.
You tried on a few outfits. A cute shirt with jeans? No, the jeans fit way too snug, cutting into your hips. Sweatpants? Too casual for dinner. You moved on to dresses.
A sleek black dress with sheer stockings ended up being the winner. It felt formal enough, and it would look nice with your silver earrings and flats. You stared at yourself in the mirror, doing several slow 360s to check the fit. You grumbled. Your folds were noticeable. So was your stomach. Your thick legs took attention away from the stockings and shoes.
A tear slipped down your cheek. Why couldn’t you enjoy anything? Was going out to dinner really too much to ask?
You hesitantly picked up your phone, fingers tapping the keys as you typed into the group chat — Gojo, his students, and a few others. It was used for general plans and training schedules.
“Hi guys. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to dinner tonight. I think I came down with something. I hope you all have fun, and take lots of pictures for me <3”
Your thumb hovered over the send button when a small knock interrupted you. You set your phone down.
“Come in!”
The door creaked open to reveal Toge, wearing… surprisingly casual clothes. Then again, you barely saw each other outside of school anymore; that damned uniform was practically burned into your memory.
“Kelp,” he greeted, and you could tell he was smiling from the crinkle in the corners of his eyes.
Your shoulders dropped, all your tension and self-hate drifting off at the sight of him.
“Hi to you too,” you murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed with a sigh. The mattress dipped as he sat beside you, his gaze clearly fixed on you. His hand reached out and teasingly pinched one of your rolls.
“Stop.” You swatted his hand away, brows furrowing. You weren’t mad, just disappointed you couldn’t go to dinner over something so trivial. He seemed to understand exactly why you were upset. His hand slid to trace over your tummy, fingers gliding over the sleek fabric of your dress.
“Salmon,” he murmured.
“What? You like my dress?”
He nodded without hesitation, then looked up at you and spoke the one word only you were allowed to hear.
“Beautiful.”
He didn’t take risks with his words, but God, he had wanted to call you that for so long. It should be safe, he thought. It wasn’t a command, not an action. Just… a word. A compliment. Something you’d never expect from a cursed speech user.
“You’re just saying that.”
He shook his head firmly. Never, not once, had he even considered lying to you. Even harmless white lies were off the table. Telling you “those shorts look fine on you” when you looked an absolute hot mess? Impossible. His fingers absentmindedly traced soft shapes against your tummy as you huffed.
“I can’t go tonight. I just- It’s so obvious I squeezed into this. I can’t do-”
“Quiet.”
You froze. Your mind is suddenly blank. Your mouth wouldn’t move no matter how much you tried. The words lodged in your throat until—
Oh.
A few moments passed before you regained your voice.
“Don’t do that again. I’m being so serious.”
You tried to sound stern, but Toge knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. Sometimes you just needed to shut up - about yourself, about how people saw you. He hated hearing you tear yourself apart.
And honestly… you hated it too. Toge loved you - through thick and thin, literally. He loved how plush you felt when you were the big spoon, how your tummy worked as his personal pillow, how you’d let him spoonfeed you whatever recipe he found on YouTube at 2 a.m. He loved how big your hands were compared to his. God, he loved every inch of you.
Did that give him the right to use cursed speech on you? No. Not even a little. And you would absolutely deal with that later.
“Alright,” you sighed.
You picked up your phone again, quickly deleting your previous message and typing a new one:
“Hi everyone :) Toge and I are on our way.”