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In love as in war, all means are fair. In their case, they are at war against the strongest sorcerer who ever lived and, therefore, must have more than one trick up their sleeve in case Gojo loses. Yuuji said he would eat anything if it meant stopping Sukuna and saving Fushiguro. That said, he didn't expect to be part of the menu himself.
They are in the room that serves as both the base's the morgue and infirmary, with an entire wall dedicated to mortuary drawers and a sterile operating table that Gojo contaminates by sitting on it. Behind him, Kusakabe grimaces at that but says nothing, choosing to lean against the wall near the door. Always positioning himself closest to the exits, even unconsciously. Hakari told him one evening that there is no greater coward than Kusakabe, to which Yuuji replied that Mei Mei would be the most likely to abandon them in the middle of a fight. That made Hakari laugh, a roar defeaning like the thunder in the sky, and he then ruffled his hair so hard it made him dizzy.
Kusakabe is no coward, at least not to Yuuji. He wouldn't be in the room if he were. Although there is no risk with Gojo present, sitting cross-legged on the operating table with his hand resting on his chin, eyes wide open and uncovered as they have been since his release from the Prison Realm. He looks bored at first glance, but Yuuji could see the tension in his shoulders and jaw.
"There's no need for all this," Yuuji says again, his gaze shifting from Gojo on the table to Kusakabe leaning against the wall and finally to Okkotsu sitting on an old convalescent bed at the back of the room.
Okkotsu sighs. "That's what I keep telling them..."
"No can do, kids," Kusakabe says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd rather not have another incident like last time."
Yuuji grimaces at the reminder, to which Gojo waves his hand in the air as if to dispel the memory. "Don't bully my students, Kusakabe. We're just here to make sure everything goes smoothly. Think of it as assisted cannibalism!" His usual fake cheer sounds too loud and too high-pitched in the morbid—literally—silence of the room. Kusakabe rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, suddenly looking more tired than he was five minutes ago. "Just get on with it."
"Will do," Yuuji replies.
He strides quickly across the room, passing Gojo, who gives him a thumbs up, before stopping in front of the bed. Okkotsu smiles shyly at him. He shifts aside a little to make room for Yuuji, who then sits down on the mattress. The bed is old and worn, the springs creaking under their combined weight, the wood groaning with every brush of their thighs. Yuuji glances down at the floor, at the tips of their shoes touching, then turns his gaze to the boy beside him. They are sitting a little too close on the narrow bed, he notices, and goes to move back, but a pale hand grabs his wrist.
If Okkotsu notices that the coldness of his palm on Yuuji's warm skin makes him flinch, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns Yuuji's left hand so that his own palm faces them.
"Have you decided on which one?" he asks, low as a confession. Head tilted towards the hand, black strands of hair form a curtain that half-obscures his forehead, from which two dark, bottomless wells stare at Yuuji. Yuuji gulps. No matter how exposed he is to it, Okkotsu's gaze is still just as unnerving as the first time he was pinned under. It's like he's back in the ruins of Shibuya with his executioner looking down at him from the top of a bridge. Once again, the thought of putting some space between them flickers in his mind, but the slight pressure around his wrist dissuades him. Okkotsu's hand is cold, even colder than the freezing air of the morgue making the fine hairs of his neck stand on end.
"Yeah," Yuuji nods. "That one." He wiggles the finger next to the misshapen stump that resulted from Sukuna savagely tearing off his little finger. Bastard.
Okkotsu blinks twice at Yuuji, then twice again at the finger. "Are you sure?" It sounds hesitant, surprised.
"Well, I need my thumb for pretty much everything. My index finger too if I want to unlock my phone and computer," he explains as Gojo snickers at that. "I'm working on something with my middle finger so, by process of elimination, that's the only one left to go."
This doesn't seem to convince Okkotsu. "What about your other pinkie?"
"It's just a finger, senpai."
"It's your ring finger." Huh? Ah.
Yuuji can't suppress the chuckle that escapes his chest, shaking the bed with a cacophony of rusty springs and old wood. "Marriage isn't really part of my plans. I'm not walking down the aisle anytime soon." Surviving the battle that awaits them isn't even in his plans. And even before this awful turn of events, Yuuji was certain he'd swallow Sukuna's twentieth finger long before his twentieth birthday. That leaves little hope for any kind of marriage—he'd never rest in peace if he left a young widow behind.
Now it's Gojo's turn to laugh. "Yuuji-kun, only the bride walks down the aisle," he points out.
"Eh?" Yuuji meets his blue eyes. "But the groom has to walk through it to get to the altar, though?"
"If we follow that logic, the bridesmaids and the best man also walk down the aisle."
"What about the bride's fath—"
"Get on with it," Kusakabe repeats, interrupting the conversation. Gojo winks at him but Yuuji doesn't return the wink, afraid of seeing Kusakabe's patience wear thin with their nonsense. Instead, he turns back to Okkotsu, who hasn't let go of his hand the whole time, now gently stroking Yuuji's ring finger with his thumb. Although his face is emotionless, the slight furrow of his brow and the pursing of his lips betray his mind.
Yuuji places his free hand on Okkotsu's knee. "It's okay, senpai. It's of no use to me. I'm not a lover boy like you," he says to lighten the mood and is delighted to see that it works. Okkotsu smiles, his dark eyes crinkling with mirth. "That's what Hakari calls me. You spend too much time with him."
"I learn a lot from him."
"His vocabulary too, from what I can see."
They laugh quietly, heads leaning towards each other, foreheads touching and noses brushing as they watch Okkotsu's fingertips move back and forth over Yuuji's ring finger, from where it diverges from the palm to the dull tip of his nail, passing over every crease and joint until it becomes as cold as Okkotsu's.
When Yuuji goes to cut the finger, the boy tightens his hand around his wrist. "Senpai?" he asks.
"I'll take care of it," Okkotsu shakes his head and, with his hand still around Yuuji's wrist, lifts his hand. Then he guides Yuuji's finger to his mouth. Panic blinding him for a moment, he abruptly pulls his hand away from the boy's face, freeing it from Okkotsu's icy grip. "I was going to make a clean cut with Shrine," he explains as Okkotsu blinks at the hand Yuuji now cradles to his chest. "Sensei said I've trained enough to use it on myself."
He frowns at that. "It might be just a finger to you but it means a lot more to me. I want to do it properly."
"Really?" Yuuji eyes the ring he always keeps around his neck.
"He's a romantic," Gojo comments.
"There's always my katana if you two can't make up your minds," Kusakabe reminds.
Slowly, Okkotsu reaches out his hand to Yuuji, his eyes shifting nervously but honest, so Yuuji has no choice but to place his hand on top of Okkotsu's and watch as he brings it to his mouth. "It won't hurt too much," he reassures him, warm air moistening the skin of his ring finger.
"I don't mind—Oh." Despite Okkotsu's words, Yuuji certainly expects pain. He has already experienced the loss of a finger after all, although that was nothing compared to the pain of seeing his best friend taken from him by the devil himself. However, no one, no one, has ever pressed a kiss on his left ring finger. Where he expected to feel painfully blunt teeth, two lips instead brush the back of his finger. Dry, cracked, bitten to the blood due to his nervous nature, Okkotsu places them just above the first joint in a short close-mouthed kiss. He pulls his lips away, moistens them, then places them a centimeter higher. And on and on.
Yuuji's ears burn. "Um, senpai—" A kiss.
"O-Okkotsu-senpai—" A kiss.
"I d-don't think—" Another kiss.
And another and another, making him squirm with embarrassment on the bed, which, of course, creaks with every movement. Yuuji glances frantically at the other two people in the room for help but Kusakabe merely raises an eyebrow at the scene, as confused as Yuuji, while Gojo tilts his head at a perfect forty-five-degree angle, intrigued.
Sensing his panic, Okkotsu slides a hand along Yuuji's forearm until he stops it at his wrist where he caresses the blue and green veins that stand out against the tan of his skin. He can feel my heartbeat, Yuuji thinks, and immediately regrets it. Soon each beat feels too strong and the next one comes too quickly as Okkotsu continues to kiss every millimeter of his finger. When he reaches the end, he scrapes his incisors against the smooth nail, careful not to tear the cuticle, then impossibly, insanely, runs his tongue over the entire finger, from nail to palm.
Yuuji jumps. "Senpai—"
Then his finger is in his mouth.
It's warm. The rest of Yuuji's body is in a cold, icy, Siberian morgue, while his ring finger is in the burning oven that is Okkotsu's mouth. With one hand still on his wrist and the other resting on his, Okkotsu keeps his eyes on him as his lips, along with his teeth, close around his entire finger. Yuuji has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from squealing at the wet, lukewarm sensation of a tongue slithering viscously over his skin. He tenses his muscles; back, arms, neck, thighs, as the redness in his ears spreads to his cheeks like a stream filling a river after a drought.
Eyes half-lidded, Okkotsu continues to caress Yuuji all over. The veins on his wrist, the back of his hand of which one finger is held hostage in his mouth, said finger glistening with saliva from his tongue. Growing bold, Okkotsu traces the outline of what remains of Yuuji's little finger with his thumb before pressing the pad onto the stump, healed but still sensitive. Yuuji flinches, which clearly pleases Okkotsu, who applies more pressure, breathing in short bursts through his nose as he keeps his eyes fixed on Yuuji.
Yuuji reprimands him by pushing his finger further into his mouth and tickling his uvula. As expected, Okkotsu's face contorts with discomfort. Chastised, he removes his fingers from the stump and places them on Yuuji's forearm instead.
Just when he thinks Okkotsu has finally finished playing around under the gaze of their respective teachers, two rows of teeth sinks into his skin, not hard enough to do any damage.
Okkotsu starts to suck.
This time, Yuuji can't hold back the strangled sound that comes out of his throat or the trembling of his shoulders as his finger is pressed against a palate and a tongue undulates under it with each swallow. It's a good thing he's sitting down because he has to squeeze his thighs and contract his calves to keep them from shaking, toes curling in his shoes. Lowering his head means meeting the boy's burning coal-black eyes, raising it means meeting those of their spectators. So Yuuji closes his eyes, closes them tightly, concentrating on stifling the treacherous sounds building up in his throat.
That's how Okkotsu bites when he least expects it.
Yuuji stiffens as if struck by lightning. He growls in pain as teeth bite once, twice, sawing through skin and muscle before reaching the phalanx. Yuuji clenches his jaw, eyes half-open, seeing Okkotsu's veins pop out on his own from the pressure he's applying, and he goes to grab the edge of the mattress to alleviate and bear the pain but he's intercepted mid-way. Okkotsu grabs his hand and interlaces their fingers like lovers, squeezing together their palms so hard that one might think he is the one whose finger is being bitten off and not the other way around.
Eventually, blood begins to flow. Yuuji can feel all too well his finger detaching from the rest of his hand and sliding along Okkotsu's tongue before disappearing down his throat. Okkotsu closes his eyes, swallows, but doesn't let go of Yuuji even after the finger rests heavily in his stomach. With his hand on his forearm, he begins to suck again as he did before, his lips working around the bloody stump like a newborn suckling at its mother's breast. Yuuji winces with each lick of the wound, to which Okkotsu squints his eyes each time in what he assumes means sorry in creepy eyes language.
Eventually, his breathing calms down. Eventually, his heartbeat slows to a normal rhythm. Eventually, Okkotsu gives one last lick before letting go of what remains of Yuuji's ring finger with a wet pop, a string of red saliva connecting them.
Yuuji chuckles softly at his senpai's appearance. "You look like a vampire," he tells him. It's true. With his pale skin, heavy dark circles under his unnerving eyes, ebony hair, and now blood staining the outline of his mouth and his entire chin, Okkotsu could easily pass for a vampire from Romania.
He licks his bloodied lips. "Does it suit me?"
"If it wasn't my blood, maybe."
"Do you like it?"
"You looking like a vampire or you drinking my blood?"
"Both."
Yuuji drops his gaze to his hand still ozing blood. "I think I do," he whispers more to himself than to the other boy. However, sitting this close with their legs touching, Okkotsu hears it just fine. He squeezes Yuuji's hand tightly. "Would you like to have a taste?" he murmurs, bed creaking as he presses their forehead together.
To have a taste? To have a taste. Of his own blood, through a kiss. Of Okkotsu, through his own blood. Both sound tempting.
Unfortunalty, a loud clearing of a throat bursts their bubble. Yuuji jumps, having forgotten that they're not alone in the room.
"Think you can use Cleave now?" Kusakabe asks from where he stands one foot already through the door, ready to leave. Or was already leaving.
Okkotsu nods. "I think so."
"Wonderful," Gojo claps his hands in a small applause, his enthusiasm as fake as always. "How do you feel, Yuuji?"
"Huh..." How does he feel? He feels a lot of things, which none of them have names.
Weary, Kusakabe sighs. "I, for one, feel molested. Seriously, Okkotsu?" At long last embarrassment finally catches up to Okkotsu, who blushes a deep red while Gojo laughs for the first time since he came back.
"What can we say, he's freaky like that," he says between laughs. "Though we might have to talk about your flirting methods. I can't say I approve of this one. Buy him flowers next time, hmm?"
Okkotsu makes a weak sound from where he buries his head in his hands. Yuuji pries his fingers open, smearing blood on them, to peek at his blushing face. "I like marigolds," he informs those trembling eyes whose pupils comically dilate at the sight of him, like a cat. Like a vampire. There's a long silence where Kusakabe takes his leave until a voice quietly breaks it. "Noted," he whispers and Yuuji can't help but lay down his head on Okkotsu's shoulder. He almost closes his eyes if not for the roll of bandages thrown his way.
He catches it with his good hand. Gojo waves at him from the door. "Take care of that, will you?" He points at the bloody stump.
Yuuji smiles. "Thanks, sensei."
"No prob. And Yuuta?"
He raises his head. "Yes?"
"No more cannibalism for you."