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Yuuta once heard that every good thing gets a bad thing. For every moment of happiness, there would be an equivalent amount of sadness received eventually. With the way he's wired, it had not been a pleasant thing to digest, but with the way he's wired, he retains it nonetheless. It had seemed to take its time in infecting him, roots growing silent somewhere in his psyche while he ambled on through life, virtually none the wiser.
Then the girl he loved was crushed by a truck and Yuuta met a new darkness that refused to leave him.
He figured it must have lived in him before; in glimpses of apparent clarity, he would recall a trace of familiarity with this shadow bleeding through every nerve he possesses, a feeling that he had been here before, thought a terrible thing sometime ago, felt like sinking into his mattress and out of existence forever.
This wasn't Rika, not entirely, though her curse lingering in the spaces between reality and fantasy had definitely not helped things. It was when she was gone, when he couldn't see her, when he would wake up and stare at the ceiling and feel his bones weighing him down and keeping him confined to his blanket and the time on his clock told him that he was late for school and he told the clock that it didn't even fucking matter because nothing matters but maybe something could matter but would he ever feel it, or deserve it, or attain it, or what was the point—
Rika would loom out of nowhere then, eyeless and snarling, flitting about the shadows of his room for the threat Yuuta had clearly registered in his physical body. But there had been no threat; it was only him. Only him and his mind that he could never escape from. The curse he could never escape from.
If the recollection of this tale feels convoluted, it's because that's how it processed to Yuuta. He can't exactly remember what darkness had been Rika and what darkness had been his own. For a time, it had felt intertwined so closely that Yuuta had thought they were one and the same.
But then he said goodbye to Rika, to the girl he had met and lost and found, and it had felt like it was over.
Until it wasn't.
Now he wakes up, and the same darkness grips him, clings to his back like muck, settles in his stomach and his chest and whatever other space his body has room to rent out to this demon. It feels somewhat old-fashioned to call it that, but that's what it feels like. Just like when Rika had haunted him, lurked behind him, terrifying when visible, even more so when invisible. But this time he can't chalk it up to being cursed; this is just him, entirely him.
Apparently, the human brain is always trying to keep itself safe. However, why it has to do it by generating a nearly tangible cage of feeling extremely unsafe is beyond Yuuta.
He hasn't been able to sleep properly ever since Rika. However, for a short time, there were moments of peace he had achieved in recent months, but now he is back to the tendrils of tiredness dragging him down only to awake in the middle of the night and unable to return to slumber, incapable of it really. The shadows grow in him, and beneath his eyes, and in the slopes of his body as he grows leaner and longer.
Training takes him out of it, if only for a moment. Having something to focus on, putting his muscles through the wringer, gripping his weapon so tight if only to remind himself of the purpose he has now, the presence he holds in this world.
He'll see the friends he has made, the gleam of mischief in Panda's eyes and the scrunch of the bridge of Inumaki's nose and the brilliance of Maki's smile, and it'll make him forget, just for a moment.
Until the fear of losing them creeps in. The fear that he will only have himself to blame. The fear that it might all go wrong and he will be alone again, trapped and scared and alone. No hope for the future. Curses all over the world. Suffering everywhere. Food being forced down his throat when his stomach is too sick with anguish. The desire to fade away the moment he opens his eyes in the night or morning or whenever.
Then he remembers the past, the harm that befell others, all because he had been too weak or too sad or too scared, and Rika would take it the wrong way and want to dispose of it in the bloodiest way possible. The guilt slashes through him, and he tries to tell himself that it's over, it's not his fault, but can't anyone just say that? Does it really make it true or real? Even when he avoided the world, locked himself away, made himself so small that even he didn't seem to notice his own existence sometimes, bad things would still happen. Some would let that go, would shrug it off, would keep on walking. Not him. He has never been able to really let go of things. They seep into his soul, root hooks into him and his minds, pulling and pulling and pulling until he feels like he is going insane, but he doesn't know why this feeling is occurring, why he wants to run still after everything has happened. Why he wants to disappear. Where he fails to find the point of anything sometimes.
He must have gotten out of this pit before. He just doesn't seem to remember how.
Yuuta sits on the porch of the dorms, legs stretched out before him, eyes watching the view above the trees and how the hues of the sunset stick in the wisps of clouds brushed across the sky, and contemplates that same thought as he tries to settle his breathing, his odd heartbeat, his nerves shivering with fear under his skin.
He doesn't know if he can live like this. He doesn't want to live like this, constantly worrying, imagining the worst, stuck in a cage crafted by his own madness. He honestly feels fucking insane, and hopeless, and useless, and—
"Hey."
Yuuta jerks at the sudden appearance of Maki. She stands at his side, socked feet near his thigh, eyes carefully assessing him behind her glasses. They're a new pair, having broken the other on a mission. He still remembers slicing past her face to plunge his blade deep into the belly of a curse that almost bit her head off, and all he could think of is if he had cut Maki too. She had stood before, no blood anywhere on her face, nothing but her usual frown, and it still hadn't been enough to soothe Yuuta's torment.
He tries not to think about it now. It's a little easier, given that he takes a moment to appreciate Maki in the light of the setting sun. Her face is so elegant but guarded, like a statue chiseled by a sculptor who had so desperately wanted to understand his muse to no avail. But at the very least, Yuuta and that sculptor both have the existence of Zenin Maki, a person Yuuta can never imagine anyone looking down on. It seems impossible, sacrilegious.
"Hi, Maki-san," Yuuta greets. He can feel his clammy palms. Why were his hands sweating anyways? He wipes them on his trousers, then realizes that Maki probably saw that. He glances back, but Maki gives no indication that she noticed— No, she did notice, but she doesn't care. He hopes. Why does it matter?
"Still flipping out, huh?" Maki inquires, but it sounds like more of a self-assured statement coming from her.
Yuuta doesn't try to fabricate something, partly out of futility, given that Maki has the keenness of a hawk with a piercing stare to match, and partly out of lack of energy; it takes a lot to pretend to be fine, he has discovered. "Yeah," he sighs out, then tries to breathe again, the sound obvious in the silence of the oncoming dusk. The sunlight is blinding right before darkness, which seems fitting, but also irks him. Should life constantly be a journey of ups and downs?
(He knows it can be better than this, but in the grip of the darkness, it is hard to remember that, and harder still to accept it as truth.)
"Is this because of Africa?" asks Maki. She crouches down, slides into seating beside him. Her scent reaches his nose, a pleasant body mist that she sprays on after training. Its sweetness and the stray hairs that have escaped from her ponytail framing around her temples makes fondness stir beneath the surface of his strain, muted but there.
Yuuta keeps looking at her, perhaps trying to anchor himself to her, this moment, this place. The wave of anguish looms heavy behind him, kicking up a dull buzzing in his brain. He tries to ignore it, but it feels like this moment could be ripped away at any second. This has become the norm of his life currently, anxiety clawing at him at every turn, warping every piece of him, and he hates it.
He finally hums, not sure what to say. Africa is an important mission, a necessary mission. He knows he has to do it, but there are moments over the last few weeks leading up to it where he just feels... spent. Exhausted. All reserves finished. The urge to disappear hits him again, and he—
Maki claps a hand to his forehead. Yuuta feels her hand, but wishes he could really feel it. He knows he's here, but he doesn't feel here. It's a lifeline though, and he's grateful for it. Of course, the touch isn't what he's used to, especially from Maki, and he finds himself scrambling. "Maki-san?" he tests nervously, but Maki presses against his forehead until he's flat on his back. Her hand stays, and her face hovers above him.
"Talk," commands Maki. Her eyes aren't hard, but they watch him with a steady energy that Yuuta had forgotten possible.
"Am I being interrogated right now?" he mumbles, but Maki catches the deflection easily.
"What's bothering you, Yuuta?"
Yuuta looks at her, at the strength in her eyes, her face, her hand. Yuuta wishes he had that. How is Maki so sure? Of anything? Saying it feels wrong though, bitter in a way, like she might take it as mocking. He would never do that though.
"Yuuta, stop thinking and say something."
"Do you ever feel like saying things makes them come true?"
"Of course not. If that were the case, I'd be the head of the Zenin clan already."
He doesn't know what to say to that. "Well—"
"Yuuta."
"I'm just worried."
"You're always worried." In a stroke of rarity, her reply isn't blunt, or scathing. She says it gently, sympathetically. It is so unlike Maki, and he stares at her in almost disbelief. "What are you worried about?" she continues in that same gentleness, and he almost feels like he's stepped into some other world. It makes him question reality for the hundredth time that hour.
"Maki-san, are you feeling well?" he inquires genuinely.
Maki's face breaks into a scowl — a normal thing. "Hah? Can't you believe I'm concerned about you?" she snaps, ripping her hand away suddenly only to ball it up and lean her cheek against it, still remaining close to him. He likes that.
Her ire makes mortification shoot through him. "Of course I believe you!" he flounders. "It's just... Well... It's a new side to you. That's all."
"Well." She studies him for a second. "We're all getting those lately."
Her stare seems intent. He can feel his face heating under her gaze, feeling it weigh heavy on him. "What does that mean?"
"It means that you can do this, Yuuta."
The words mean more than he can ever express, but with that belief comes the fear of disproving it, of causing massive disappointment, of failing, of being weak and useless and miserable all over again. He already feels that way right now, but it could be worse. Couldn't it always be worse?
"How are you so sure?" The question falls from his lips before he registers it completely, too stuck in the spiral to keep it to himself. His head aches, almost like his worries and doubts and fears are physical entities capable of gripping his cranium until all he can think is that he wants to disappear forever—
"Because," Maki says firmly, and she pauses to grab his attention once more. Yuuta focuses on her through the fog of mental ruin. Her eyes are clear, and the determination radiating from her gaze is breathtaking. "I know you, Yuuta. You had a curse following you most of your life. You have been suffering from a young age. You have seen things that would break most people, but you're still here. Even if you feel you don't want to be."
It's one thing to think it, but to hear someone else echo back your own thoughts leaves him feeling eerily raw and exposed. He casts a look back at the sky. The clouds are still, and the indigo ink of dusk is seeping into view.
"But we want you here." Maki's expression is impossible to read, but Yuuta senses she wants to say something she probably considers damning. "All of us."
Yuuta feels his eyes prickle, his throat itch. "And that's why I don't want to leave," he says, and it feels so uselessly honest. "With you guys, being here, it's the first place where I felt..." He meets Maki's eyes and he knows she knows, and agrees. "Safe," he finally voices, because it feels dangerous to say so out loud. "I don't feel that way by myself. Within myself. I haven't in a long time. A while ago, it was better, but recently - I don't know – it just feels so... bad. I can't make sense of it."
He can't tell if it's Africa, or Rika, or himself, or Gojo, or the higher-ups, or the bullies, or not seeing his family, or himself, or the sorcery world, or curses, or the new Rika, or uncertainty itself, or himself—
Yuuta sucks in a breath. It feels robotic, but he makes himself do it. It accentuates the oddness he feels, like he's disconnected from his body while simultaneously feeling confined in his own skin. He releases it, takes in another one, feels his mind shake. He remembers Maki is watching him and he feels embarrassment flare up, as well as a million other thoughts to add to the other million thoughts swarming around his head.
"Let it go, Yuuta," says Maki, and Yuuta really, really wants to, but he isn't sure if it is possible to let it all go; some of it feels sticky and adamant to stay, may have almost felt natural if it didn't feel so very unnatural.
"Things are always going to be uncertain, Yuuta," Maki goes on, eyes hooding over as the dusk comes in. "But you're going to be able to handle it, because you're you. You're strong, and you try, and even when you don't, you're still you, and you have a good heart."
All the airways in Yuuta feel tight, his eyes burning. He turns his head away. It feels right and wrong to hear that: right because it's what he wants to hear, what he feels like he needs to hear, but also wrong because what if she's wrong and he just has her fooled and he's a big fraud—
No. No one fools Maki. It's one of the many things he admires about her.
"Have you ever heard that every good thing gets a bad thing?" he murmurs quietly.
"That's just life. There's good and bad. There's also that 'good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people' bullcrap. Life is what you make of it. But things will work out." She's now speaking quietly, watching the forest beyond. "Everything always works out."
She sound so sure, sure enough for the both of them. It's momentarily comforting. He feels a slight smile on his lips as he looks at her, admiring yet another side to her. Maki-san really is amazing. "If you don't mind me saying, that sounds very unlike you, Maki-san," he says instead, maybe an attempt to alleviate the raw intensity clouding around them. "I didn't take you for an optimist."
"I'm not. But... Sometimes, things happen that make you believe." She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulder a bit in a way that says that this isn't a concept you can truly explain. Yuuta has had difficulty with accepting things like that lately, but if Maki believes, he can believe.
But there's something in the way she said it, like she had seen something life-changing, something that had scaled over her walls. It makes Yuuta feel something like... hope.
"Has anything like that happened for you, Maki-san?" Yuuta asks, genuinely curious, not exactly sure what he is looking for yet again. But it is always nice to see Maki in these rare moments, where they can just be human beings and nothing else, and maybe it's foolish to think, but Yuuta feels like he's one of the very few people who have seen it.
Maki's eyes flicker over to his, and in that brief, fleeting second, Yuuta feels. It's the same as that time in the classroom, when they had opened up to each other, the same fading sunlight blazing between them. Yuuta wonders if she is thinking about him. It can't be him. Could it?
Then she looks away and falls back, lying beside him. She inches closer, until her knee brushes his hip. "Who knows?" she answers softly. She lays on her side, head snug in the space between his own head and shoulder. She's close, but not touching, except for that one place where her knee meets his hips. He focuses on it, keeps breathing, tries not to focus on the screaming pain in his brain.
She's amazing. It's a fact so brilliant that it hurts him to realize.
"I'm going to miss you, Maki-san," Yuuta whispers.
Maki eyes him playfully. "Come back then," she commands. Then she closes her eyes.
The wind brushes through the trees, the leaves rustling with the arrival of the evening. The air is quiet, but the hum of nature is all around, the stars soon shining through. Maki is close to Yuuta, knee warm against his hip, keeping him connected to this place, this moment. And he may not be sure about a lot right now, but he knows that coming back to this, to everyone, to her, as sure as the imminent oncoming of dawn, is something they both want.