Archive of Our Own

Three months after the Inhuman Makyo Shinjuku Showdown, Yuji finds his day blessedly free of any missions. Rays of sun glare through his window, illuminating his dorm room in the comforting warmth of a peaceful afternoon.

Having returned from grocery shopping earlier in the day, Yuji hums as he folds his laundry. Casual things like doing chores and cooking always give him peace of mind; the simple mundanities of casual life that’d been cast aside in the aftermath of Shibuya. Nobara tends to roll her eyes at his enthusiasm for “being boring”—her own words—but he finds it grounding. 

It’s in the process of wrestling with his duvet cover that Yuji’s eyes wander over to the calendar hanging on the wall. Twenty days into the month of March, the date is noticeably marked with a cute sticker of a bunny from a sticker sheet he had impulsively bought ages ago. At the time, he may or may not have waved the sheet in Megumi’s face and proudly exclaimed that the rabbits looked like his shikigami. 

Now, the sticker’s beady eyes seem to glare down at him, a stark reminder that there’s only a week left before Yuji turns sixteen. He’s pointedly avoided thinking about the upcoming date ever since he bought the calendar and marked the important dates (all with the bunny stickers, of course). 

Sixteen. He’s turning sixteen in a week.

Yuji has spent the last several months of his life with the looming expectation of a quiet, concise death. An intangible timer counting down with no way of being able to tell the time, a reminder of his own impermanence. 

The memory of his grandpa’s voice, already distorted by time: make sure you’re surrounded by others. Yuji has gained so many people near and dear to his heart, even with newfound grief weighing heavy upon it. Whenever he gets too deep in his own thoughts, Yuji tries to remind himself of all the things he still has to distract from the weight of what he’s lost. Trading losses for victories makes him feel sour, however, his victory Pyrrhic.

Still, compared to his meager life back in Sendai and the loneliness that accompanied it, the people he sees each and every day serve as a constant reminder to be grateful for all he has, to be grateful that he’s alive. 

After Halloween, after Shibuya, Yuji’s impending, pre-established death had gone from a specter distantly haunting him to something much more corporeal. He had been planning to help Megumi and after that, well, he’d known what his fate would be. 

Yuji finds himself lost in the fantasy, one that tends to crawl its way into his head on sleepless nights; a world where Megumi’s sister was actually awakened and not incarnated, and the Angel got to kill him and take more than half of Sukuna with him. Gojo-sensei would’ve been unsealed, and Yuji’s life would’ve been the last cog needed for the machine to run anew.

Maybe that world would’ve been a better, kinder one.

Yuji shakes his head and slips back into the present, realizing that he’s forgotten his task of fixing his bed. He finally manages to get the duvet cover on, finishing up his laundry as he folds and puts away the rest of his clothes, and makes his way towards the dormitory’s communal kitchen to start on dinner.

It should be something to distract him and keep his mind busy. And yet, the thoughts still linger. Thinking about his own birthday shouldn’t fill Yuji with such an indescribable feeling of dread, but here he is, feeling like someone took a carving knife to his insides and hollowed him out. 

As he washes the cabbage he’d picked out, he thinks back to January, when they’d celebrated Megumi’s birthday, belatedly of course. It wasn’t much, Megumi had still been stuck in the hospital recovering, which limited the number of visitors he could have at one time, but Yuji had still made sure to bake a chocolate cake big enough to share. For all his complaints and grumbling, the way Megumi’s expression had shifted into something soft and gentle made the whole affair worth it. Yuji finds himself fondly picturing that warm smile a little too frequently.

From Megumi’s birthday, Yuji's train of thought switches to reminisce on his own previous birthday. His birthday hadn’t aligned with Vernal Equinox Day last year, so Yuji had spent most of it in classes. Most of his classmates were more concerned with their upcoming graduation, but a few acquaintances had stopped him to wish him happy birthday, alongside a note or two tucked in his shoe locker. 

When he got home, he’d baked a small strawberry shortcake for himself before making his way over to the hospital for his usual visit. His grandpa had been crotchety as always, telling him that he should be out celebrating with friends. Still, he had made sure to tell Yuji that his cake brought the store-bought ones to shame. His grandpa had told him to go home after they finished, but not before he shoved some pocket money into his hand as a present. Yuji had been able to tell his grandpa was miffed that he wasn’t able to go out and buy him an actual present, so Yuji had fixed him with a wide smile as he waved goodbye. He purposely hadn’t added a promise to visit tomorrow so as to not upset his grandpa further (not that didn’t come visit the next day anyway).

The memory of it all leaves Yuji with a stubborn ache in his chest as a wave of melancholy hits him. It doesn’t take long for the grief to reshape itself into something that’s more sharp and painful. This will be his first birthday spent without his grandpa. The years where his grandpa would come home from work with a cake from their favorite bakery in hand, the rare affectionate hair ruffle he’d receive without fail, the genuine smile that would stretch the wrinkles on his grandpa’s face — all the little indisputable things about his grandpa that he’ll never get to experience again. They make him dread his birthday all the more.

Just as his eyes start to blur, Yuji stubbornly swallows down the heartache, letting its bitter taste fill his mouth. He shoves his thoughts into a corner of his mind that he tries to avoid reaching back into, even when it increasingly starts to feel akin to a dam about to burst.

With a deep breath, he lets the slight tremble in his hands ease so he can refocus on dinner. Tonight, he’s cooking tonkatsu with shredded cabbage and rice. Yuji concentrates on dipping the pork into the egg wash and firmly resolves to forget about his birthday for as long as he can.

It turns out, “as long as he can” is about an hour before the topic comes back up. Yuji is sitting with Nobara and Megumi at the small table that’s set up in the first year’s common area, smiling over their conversation about Nobara’s latest mission. Group dinners have become a tradition for the three of them, seldom missed aside from occasional missions that span into the night or over more than one day. 

After finishing off the last bit of rice in her bowl, Nobara points her chopsticks directly at Yuji and looks at him with a meaningful expression, “So, your birthday is in a week and you haven’t brought it up once.”

So much for not thinking about it. Really, Yuji should’ve known better than to expect his friends to let him get away with forgetting about his birthday. Unfortunately for him, the subject happens to feel like picking at a freshly inflicted wound, preventing it from scabbing over.

“Uh. I forgot?” he offers, hoping that neither of them caught the way his hands had twitched when Nobara spoke.

She narrows her eye, but doesn’t call him out on the lie as she continues, “Stupid. Well, you better decide what you want to do quickly so we can make plans.”

Yuji puts on his best smile as he brushes her off with “Sure, sure.” 

He doesn’t realize he’s been shredding the paper napkin in his lap until he notices Megumi giving him a look. Still, he’s thankful that the subject gets dropped when Megumi gets up and announces he’ll do the dishes.

And if Megumi exchanges a look with Nobara when he’s grabbing her plate, Yuji is none the wiser.

It’s predictable really, that Yuji finds himself tossing and turning in his bed during the later hours of the night after the three of them part ways. Even though movie nights with his friends tend to help, restless nights aren’t unfamiliar for him. After Shibuya, he’s practically used to it. Yet he isn’t haunted by Shibuya or Shinjuku or anything of the sort tonight. Instead, Yuji finds himself unable to sleep because of his upcoming birthday.

It’s stupid. Yuji shoves his face into his pillow and ignores the urge telling him how nice it would feel to scream into it. He’s lived with the King of Curses in his body, but his birthday is what’s keeping him up at night. It’s not just stupid, it’s pathetic. If Sukuna was still around, then at least someone would be benefiting from his current suffering.

Groaning, Yuji flips over onto his back in defeat and reaches for his phone. 2:00 AM glares at him from the screen. He squints his eyes against the brightness and he swipes it open. He really should get up and make some tea, quiet his thoughts, and get some actual sleep, but instead he opens his phone’s browser. 

Yuji isn’t sure what compels him to search for train tickets to Sendai, much less book a seat on a train for March 20th. Nostalgia, maybe. He isn’t even sure if his house is still standing. It’s silly, really; he hasn’t really visited his house since he’d officially moved into the dorms. Due to the mortgage payments and upkeep, he’d decided it was really better to sell it. Yuji still remembers handing his set of house keys over to Gojo-sensei, who had promised to handle everything so “my precious student won’t have to worry!” 

Yet, a week before December 24th, in what would become one of their last conversations, Gojo-sensei had dropped a nearly identical pair of keys back into his hand.

“Sorry, I have no clue if it’s still in one piece or not,” he’d said, as he ruffled Yuji’s hair. “But it’s yours now. All paid off and everything. A gift from your wonderful and amazing sensei!”

Staring at the discolored spot on the ceiling that’s been there since he moved in, it makes Yuji feel like a bit of a coward that he hasn’t gone to visit it once in the three months since. And isn’t that the perfect thought to ruminate on as he settles in for a sleepless night.

The next day has Yuji dozing off next to Megumi as they sit on the couch doing nothing in particular. He’d nearly dropped his phone a number of times times when his lack of sleep came back to bite him, leading to him jolting himself awake repeatedly right before it could slip from his grasp. After the dozenth time of Yuji repeating this, Megumi had taken the phone from him and placed it down gently on the table, exasperatedly telling him to get some rest.

Over an hour has passed since then, and despite making Megumi’s shoulder into his pillow at some point, the other boy hasn’t moved an inch. The two sit in a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by the sound of Megumi’s fingers as he scrolls through his phone. Yuji’s at the point where he isn’t really sleeping anymore, but he stays put, reluctant for the moment to end.

It’s Megumi who breaks the silence first, head turned just slightly so that Yuji’s hair is brushing against the bottom of his jaw. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Have you thought about your birthday? Our senpai keep asking.”

“Mmrph,” Yuji mumbles. If he just keeps pretending to be asleep, maybe he can postpone this conversation, or better yet, maybe Megumi will drop it and forget about it entirely.

“Yuji.” 

It’s his tone, serious but soft, a tone that says “I know you’re pretending to be asleep” and leaves the “I also know something’s wrong” unspoken that has Yuji cracking an eye open while simultaneously curling further into Megumi.

“You know that it’s okay if you don’t want to celebrate your birthday, right?” he continues, hushed. A hand comes to rest on Yuji’s back, absentmindedly tracing a shape—a bunny, Yuji thinks, resulting in a subtle upturn of his lips. He tries to picture Megumi’s expression, mildly frustrated but determined as he picks the words he thinks will reach Yuji. 

Softer, Megumi finishes with: “But you do deserve to.” 

It’s easy to confess his secrets when it comes to Megumi. This… thing they have was born from the aftermath of ruin, where their souls were laid bare to one another, staring down their faults and flaws. After Shibuya, their bond had shifted into something new, imbued with a mutual dependence that hadn’t been there prior. Everything that came after had increased the sense of mutual reliance even further. As a result, it's hard for Yuji to lie, so he decides to finally be honest.

“It’s not that. It’s… I’m going back to my house. In Sendai,” Yuji tells him, subdued. “I don’t want to be alone.

It’s a childish, selfish piece of him that wiggles up to the surface and adds the last part on. Yuji feels a little pathetic for even saying it aloud. He finally sits up from where his face has been pressed into Megumi, ready to open his mouth and take it back, when Megumi stops him.

“Let me come with you, then,” he says, before lamely adding “If that’s okay.”

Of course it’s okay, Yuji thinks, overly eager. Yes. Please. I need—

“I already booked a ticket,” he rasps, pushing the immediate desperation back down his throat before the needy creature buried within him is able to escape. Yuji realizes with a faint sense of embarrassment that at some point he’s moved to now clutch onto Megumi’s shoulders, having shifted his body awkwardly to face towards him. He really should let go, but it feels like an enormous task when Yuji instinctively inches a fraction closer and it just feels right.

Megumi’s voice breaks his train of thought before it can derail further. “Ijichi-san can drive us.” 

It becomes impossible to move away when a thumb brushes up against the jagged skin at the corner of his mouth, touch feather-light and careful as if Yuji is something to be cherished, as if he’s something worthy of this gentleness.

Without thinking, Yuji’s hands move upwards into dark wisps of hair, the phantom parts of his missing ring and pinky fingers itching to anchor themselves like the rest. Ruin and salvation. The forces that always meet him at each end, pulling and pushing and tearing him apart. 

Megumi’s hand, trembling imperceptibly, slides down his jaw, tilting his chin upwards ever-so slightly. Yuji meets the green depths of Megumi’s gaze and fervently thinks he wants to get lost in it forever. 

“Is it really okay—,” Yuji breathes, pressing closer. “—To want this?” 

“If it isn’t—,” Megumi’s gaze meets his, sharp and a little bit wild, “—Then we must both be cursed.”

Their lips meet, and in that moment Yuji feels anchored and warm, like the scattered pieces of his soul have been carefully pieced back together with a tenderness that borders on devastating. He wants this more than anything, he wants to be selfish here, in this moment, for once in his life. He thinks he would like to live like this; at home in Megumi’s arms forever and ever and ever.

It only lasts for around a minute, but it feels like hours when they finally pull apart for air. Their gazes stay locked together and the part of Yuji that’s admonishing himself for being greedy, for wanting this so much that he thinks his heart might burst, finally shuts up.

“Please. Come with me. I—” he pauses to gulp down more air, exerted as if he’s run miles, “I want that—Want you there.” And just as he finishes speaking, he quickly pulls Megumi into another kiss.

On the morning of March 20th, with dawn’s colors still painting the sky, Yuji and Megumi greet Ijichi at the entrance of the campus. The man politely wishes Yuji happy birthday as they slip into the backseat of his car.

They have one destination before they go to Yuji’s house: a cemetery on the outskirts of Sendai City. Yuji had been relieved to find out that the Itadori family grave was not within the barriers of the Sendai City colony and thus was spared from the destruction and violence of the Culling Game. He hadn’t been so sure about the house, but a report from an assistant had let him know it was still standing.

The two of them fill the duration of the car ride with hushed conversation. Occasionally Yuji will lean over to show Megumi some silly video he’s found or a recipe he wants to try, but aside from that, it’s peaceful and slow. From time to time, their fingers brush up against each other over the empty middle seat, but neither of them move away.

Yuji finds himself casting his mind back to this morning, a faint flush blossoming on his cheeks as he remembers having teasingly asked Megumi where his present was over their shared breakfast. He’d rolled his eyes at Yuji with a promise of "later" before leaning in to press a kiss to Yuji’s cheek. Megumi’s face had been red when he asked if that would suffice for now.

They’ve been like this ever since that day on the couch a week ago, somehow even more inseparable than before. Moments between them are filled with casual touches and warmth blossoming between them, it’s unspoken and yet so right.

Yuji’s slept in Megumi’s room for a week straight. The one night he’d decided to sleep in his own room, he’d cracked after only an hour of aimlessly staring up at the ceiling. It hadn't taken much longer for him to shuffle to the room next door and settle into Megumi’s bed like it was homecoming. Both of them still have nightmares, but there’s a feeling of safety that arises from being curled up against one another. Sleepless nights have become less common for both of them.

To be by Megumi’s side, to kiss him, to hold him, to love him, and to receive all that in return—all of it is more than enough of a present to make up for every birthday Yuji will ever have. It’s like second nature to lean into Megumi as the other’s arm comes to rest around him.

After a while, Ijichi turns the car into a small parking area and Yuji finds himself gazing at the familiar shrine that stands near the graveyard he's grown up visiting from time to time. He hasn’t visited his family grave since his grandpa passed. 

“We won’t be long,” Yuji tells Ijichi as Megumi hands him a vase of flowers from the passenger seat, grabbing a bag containing incense to carry himself. Yuji clutches the yellow chrysanthemums and white lilies close, even though they tickle his chin and make his nose itch as they walk through the cemetery. 

He finds the familiar grave from memory alone. It stands indistinctly amongst the others, with moss crawling up the sides and threatening to cover the engraved writing. Yuji might be the only person who will come visit it now, and thus the duty of cleaning it will fall solely to him.

The flowers and incense are set down a few feet away. Wordlessly, Megumi turns to grab a bucket and some brushes sitting at the entrance while Yuji starts to arrange the flowers to his liking, picking wilting petals from the outer edges. He returns a few moments after Yuji finishes messing with the flowers, water sloshing around in the bucket as he makes his way back.

Yuji takes the bucket from Megumi with murmured gratitude. Carefully, he pours the water on the cold stone, watching as a layer of dirt and moss wash away. In companionable silence, the two of them grab brushes and scrub the remaining debris away until the stone is clean yet again. The flowers are placed below, bright amongst the gray stone.

Megumi comes to kneel down beside Yuji as he lights the incense. It feels a lot more bearable with Megumi at his side as they pray and pay respects and he vows to return the favor sometime. After a while, Megumi steps back and waits respectfully for him to finish.

Fingertips brushing against the surface of the stone, he traces the kanji of Choso’s name. He’ll have to have it engraved—along with the rest of his brothers’ names. Yuji doesn’t want them to be forgotten. He wants them to belong here, under his family’s name, even though he only has the remains from Eso and Kechizu who were cremated by Ieiri-san. There was nothing left of Choso to bring back from ruins of Shinjuku, no bones to pick, no ashes to collect.

Yuji hopes having his name engraved will be enough. That way, his grandpa can meet his brothers. Yuji thinks he’ll like Choso, responsible as he was, but he probably won’t know how to handle his intensity and eccentricity. Hopefully, he’ll love him all the same.

“I miss you,” Yuji whispers, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

He rises, dusting off his pants as he comes to stand next to Megumi. Yuji tries to ignore the blurring edges of his vision, to swallow his sorrow back down to its home in his heart. He takes a deep breath, rubs his eyes, and turns away.

They don’t exchange any words as they walk back to the car, but Megumi silently slips their hands together after a moment. Yuji squeezes his hand gently and gets a squeeze back in response. The simple gesture is enough to secure him, allowing him to breathe again and not shatter where he stands. He’s pretty sure Ijichi notices as he politely looks away from where their hands meet as he opens the rear door for them.

“Okay?” Megumi murmurs after they’re back on the road, hands still melded together. 

“Ish,” he whispers back, honest. “Thank you.”

For being here. For loving me.

It’s nearing midday when they eventually arrive at the small house in a quieter part of Sendai City. His former school, which had just finished rebuilding from the initial incident, was leveled to the ground for the second time in a year. His grandfather’s favorite restaurant was practically unrecognizable, and the park where Yuji liked to play as a kid was straight up gone, with no sign that it had even been there months prior.

Despite the ruin, life has seemingly returned to the area. The streets are less occupied than what Yuji's used to, but between the grim-faced pedestrians and salvation crews, he spots a few kids playing in a field and a handful of people walking their dogs. There's far less destruction the closer they get to his house compared to other places in Sendai. Staring down the street he used to live on, Yuji can almost believe that nothing has changed from the day he left. 

They have to walk past a few of his neighbor’s houses before they get to his own. A few doors down, Yuji recognizes the two older women gossiping to one another. One of them, Nakashima-san, used to smoke with his grandpa every now and then. After his grandpa was hospitalized, she'd invite Yuji over for dinner or come over to drop off a serving of whatever she'd made for dinner that night from time to time. She always seemed to like having him around to dote over, with her two children having moved out a few years prior.

"It's just not right for a boy your age to be on his own, dear," she'd fuss. "But, ah, I made too much for dinner. You wouldn't mind helping take some of this off my hands, would you, Yuji-kun?"

It was nice on days where he came home exhausted from a long day, or when he was too busy working on an assignment due the following day to cook for himself. But Yuji never really knew how to feel about the pity in her eyes when she asked him about his grandpa over dinner. The first night she'd had him over, she had pulled out a photo album and showed him countless pictures of her kids and grandkids until her husband had come back from work nearly two hours later.

After that, Yuji would always find some excuse to hurry out the door after he finished doing dishes. It made him feel a little guilty at the time, but it was painfully awkward to stand in her house that always smelled like smoke and look over someone else's family memories. Especially when she'd pause and say something along the lines of "Ah, but your parents passed when you were young, Yuji-kun. It just breaks my heart to imagine my grandkids never getting to know their parents..."

With a start, he realizes that Nakashima-san and his other neighbor have noticed him. At first, Yuji goes to greet them, but just as he raises his arm to wave at them, he notices their unsettled expressions. Nakashima-san’s eyes look up from his face down to his left hand. Right, the scars, the missing fingers, the bandaged ear. It’s only natural for them to whisper about how the boy from next door came back looking like a war veteran.

Their gazes shift to scrutinize Megumi in a similar fashion. Yuji tugs his wrist, wanting to leave, but Megumi doesn't budge. Worriedly, Yuji glances back to the women on the porch, but something must startle the two of them, because they suddenly quiet and look away nervously. Seconds later, Megumi is the one who tugs him along instead, making Yuji focus back on him.

"Are you okay?" he questions, concerned. "I'm sorry, they're my neighbors, they like to gossip. If you're uncomfortable we can lea—"

"No. It's fine," Megumi interrupts, voice sharp. After a few moments, his expression softens. "Really. I was more worried about you."

He glances sideways, studying his face for a few seconds before returning his gaze forward. Yuji realizes he must've let something show on his face earlier and Megumi must've noticed. So, what startled his neighbors was... ah.

"You didn't have to do that," he murmurs, bashful. Tugging Megumi's hand up to his lips, Yuji places a gentle kiss to his fingers before letting go. "But thank you."

Megumi's face is still red by the time they reach his house. Yuji takes the key from his pocket. It’s not the same one he's grown up using, a new one was made when he’d decided to sell the house. Gojo-sensei had given him the new key with a little goofy tiger keychain attached, and Yuji can’t help but squeeze it in his hand as the two of them walk up the overgrown pathway towards the front door.

He’s relieved to see that the boxes containing his belongings had arrived in one piece. Kusakabe had helped arrange for the stuff that Yuji has been keeping in storage to be moved back here. Ever since Shinjuku, the man has been looking out for them and their education. Yuji has been a bit wary of him, but the man is pretty kind beneath the gruffness. It also helps that he doesn't want Yuji dead anymore.

The first thing he notices upon turning the door and stepping into the genkan is that it smells incredibly stale. It’s really no surprise as dust particles rise in the air from the disturbance. It’s probably been months since Gojo-sensei bought the house from the realtor. Still though, the house feels unfamiliar without the old smell of green tea and incense that was faintly tinted with cigarette smoke in a way that would make his nose scrunch up when he was much younger.

The two of them have to smack a layer of dust off of the house slippers before they can slip them on. Yuji startles at the sound of Megumi sneezing three times in rapid succession. Both of them sheepishly apologize at the same time, and when Megumi’s mouth turns upwards in a faint smile, Yuji can’t help but mirror it tenfold. He takes a duffle bag from his boyfriend (boyfriend!), politely ignoring that the tips of Megumi’s ears are very, very red, and places it next to his own empty one. 

“Sorry again,” he stammers, crouching down to unzip the duffle that Megumi had been holding. “This is a terrible first date, isn’t it?”

From where Megumi’s standing above him, it’s easy for the other boy to deliver a flick right to the middle of Yuji’s forehead, precisely aimed right between his eyebrows.

“Idiot. I’m happy to go anywhere with you,” Megumi admonishes as Yuji lets out an exaggerated cry of pain. He continues on, voice growing softer, “But if it really bothers you so much… you could make it up to me. Later.”

Oblivious to the heat rushing to his own face, Yuji instantly begins planning a romantic candlelight dinner in his head while Megumi leans down and pulls out a feather duster from the bag, which they had filled with cleaning supplies. The sensation of feathers tickling his nose snaps him out of it as he swats the duster in Megumi's hands away with a giggle.

Goal 1: Get the place clean. Luckily, it really does seem to just be stale and dusty, so it won’t take them more than an hour or so. Yuji’s house is small and there isn’t much ground to cover.

Goal 2: Unpack and organize the many boxes of various belongings. There’s no way they can get it all done today, so Yuji will definitely have to do it over multiple trips. His empty duffle bag is for anything he wants to bring back to the dorms.

“Let’s get started, then.” Megumi says, holding up the duster like he’s about to go to war.

“Right,” Yuji replies.

They make quick work of Step 1. The smell of the house isn’t nearly as stale with the surfaces dusted down and the windows open, allowing the air of first spring in. The two of them had decided to tackle the kitchen next, and by the time they finished, their stomachs had both been growling.

Thus, Megumi was currently gone, having left to run to a konbini a few blocks down and get them some lunch. With his absence, Yuji tries to make himself busy. First, he checks the amount of space left in his once-empty duffle bag. He’d filled it embarrassingly quick with cookware and kitchen objects. His grandpa’s old set of knives, a nice saucepan, and nice mortar and pestle to replace the small medicinal one at the dorms are just a few of the many things Yuji’s decided to bring back. 

He feels a bit pathetic and anxious as he checks his phone for the umpteenth time. It’s barely been ten minutes since Megumi left. With a forlorn sigh, Yuji decides he needs to actually busy himself with something rather than sit around waiting like an abandoned puppy, so he turns to a new set of boxes to unpack.

Yuji is immediately interested when he recognizes the boxes and the writing on the side that labels them as his grandpa’s. Faintly, he can remember a few of these boxes living in the closet of his grandpa’s room, having been scolded in the past when his childhood curiosity would be too much to resist and he'd try to sneak a peek. There are about four in total, varying in size.

The second biggest box has “Yuji—Childhood” scrawled across the side. Yuji takes the boxcutter and opens that one up first, just to see what’s inside. Unsurprisingly, he’s greeted by photos, old toys, and other childhood effects. The photos seem mildly interesting, so he thinks he’ll go through those later. But first: the other boxes.

The three remaining boxes are examined with various levels of scrutiny. The biggest is plainly labeled “Jin” and that is a whole can of worms Yuji is not looking forward to opening. The other two are smaller in comparison with the first one labeled with a distinct “X.” He figures that it’s probably his grandpa’s old stuff, which is promptly confirmed when he opens it and is met with a framed photo-portrait of a woman that Yuji’s pretty sure is his grandmother. 

The last box piques his interest the most. He carefully inspects each side, but there’s no label to be found. It’s probably just miscellaneous objects that didn’t fit in the other boxes, but Yuji feels the need to check. The tape is old and practically disintegrates when the blade slices through it. He flips the cardboard panels open and— Oh.

What greets him is another framed photo, but Yuji is much quicker to recognize the subjects in the photo this time. His eyes sweep over the image of his father, hair brighter than his own, with soft eyes and a kind face that he can vaguely recall from a handful of early-childhood memories.

He’s almost scared to look at the person next to his father—short black hair cut to her jaw, a small and sharp smile gracing her lips, dark eyes shaped like Yuji’s own. She’s sharp and clear compared to the woman that lived in the faint memory he has of her, the one he only recently recalled after being stabbed through the heart.

His mother. That terrible memory he’d conjured up, one he’d only told Gojo-sensei and Choso about. His heart pounds in his chest and his throat feels tight the way it does whenever Yuji thinks too hard about his mother and the implications she brings.

But the image doesn’t quite match up with the one in his head. Yuji rubs the pad of his thumb along her forehead as if to confirm what there—or rather, what's not there. The scars he remembers are absent. For a single, belated second, Yuji thinks he might have remembered wrong. Maybe it was just a terrible, terrible nightmare, and not a memory. But Choso and the rest of his brothers come to mind just as quickly to dismiss his own denial, making him feel guilty. 

And then, there was the conversation with Gojo-sensei.

“It’s likely that there was something about your family that interested him,” Gojo had said. His tone was tentative, but blunt. “It would explain why you were able to contain Sukuna so well.”

“It could still be a coincidence, right?” Yuji had asked, stubbornly picking at a thread on his sleeve. 

He already knew.

“Possibly, sure. But the chances of it being one are astronomically small,” he answered, making a show of pinching his fingers for emphasis. “You said you were a player in the Culling Game before you actually entered a colony. That means Kenjaku made you to be Sukuna’s vessel and a player in the Culling Game.”

Putting the final nail in the coffin, Gojo-sensei had continued, “I did some research into Sukuna’s fingers after you first came along. There was one that we completely lost track of a few years before your birth. Just up and disappeared from the site it had been at for years. There might not be five fingers left out there after all.”

Yuji shakes his head to disperse the memory. There’s no point in denying it when the evidence is in favor of their unsavory relation. He wasn’t sure of it before, but maybe there was a time before Kenjaku for his mother. That would explain the absence of the scars in the photo.

Yuji reaches back into the box, frantically pulling out stacks of papers and photos tucked in between an ornate tea set and a deep purple kimono. The first thing he grabs is a paper tucked under the photo. It’s a marriage certificate for one Jin Itadori and Kaori Mochizuki. He drops a stack of medical documents across the floor, barely noticing as they scatter and get blown away by the spring breeze rushing in through the window. It had been pleasant before. Now it just feels cold.

All of the medical papers seem really, really serious. Something about a car accident involving a pedestrian, which must have been Kaori. Yuji feels sick when his eyes catch on the words “brain surgery” written across one of them. 

There’s one last picture that makes his heart drop to the pits of his stomach. There’s himself as a baby, sleeping contentedly in his father’s arms. His father isn’t looking at him, instead gazing over to the side, eyes brimming with joy at his… mother. It’s not Kaori, this time. The suture scars glare at him from the photo, a neon signal that screams wrong. Her hand is raised as if to cover her face from the camera, eyes sharp and all too familiar in a way that Yuji unfortunately recognizes.

It’s too much. Something fierce is boiling under the surface of his skin, threatening to spill over at any moment. It’s all too much.

Yuji hates it, hates looking at this monster, hates thinking about what it meant about his father, and hates knowing what it means about himself. Yuji doesn’t even realize what he’s about to do until it’s too late; criss-crossed dotted scissor lines sprout along the picture before it flies apart, dismantled into several pieces from where he held it.

It doesn’t even feel good to destroy it. Stupid cursed technique. 

Yuji doesn’t want to be here anymore. Sitting on the floor of his childhood home, now crying earnestly into his own calloused hands. His body doesn’t feel like his anymore, and he wants out, anywhere but here. He’s tried so hard to ignore the implications of being Kenjaku’s son, but Yuji can’t help but want out when it all catches up to him.

A sob rips itself from the back of his throat, which is then followed by another in rapid succession. Was his birth truly a blight upon the world? It was easier when eating that first finger was a choice laid out before him. Now it feels like it was something pushed upon him with no regard for his own autonomy, determined from the moment he took his first breath.

He doesn’t register the sound of the door creaking open, nor the quiet greeting that follows after it. There’s a pause followed shortly by the distant sound of a plastic bag dropping to the floor, but Yuji doesn’t hear it over the mantra of cursed, cursed, cursed repeating in his head.

He flinches hard when a hand touches his shoulder, blinking up to meet sharp green eyes. The hand on his shoulder instantly disappears and Yuji thinks he hears a “sorry” followed by a muffled swear. He almost cries harder when he recognizes the panic on Megumi's face, feeling terrible for dragging him into his problems.

“—Breathe. Yuji, like this,” Megumi says. His voice almost sounds alarmed and off kilter, but it feels like someone stuffed cotton in his ears, so Yuji can’t really tell. A hand gently wraps itself around his wrist and guides it to Megumi’s chest. “Just match me. Slowly. Take a breath.”

“Take a breath,” Choso echoes in his memories. Yuji sniffles, expecting to feel worse for thinking of him when he already feels like a piece of fabric being held together by one last thread. Unexpectedly, however, he can’t help but listen to Megumi and the memory of his brother, leaning into the comfort he desperately yearns for.

Yuji isn’t sure how long it takes for him to breathe normally again, but when he finally manages to sniff out a “sorry” to Megumi, the other boy pulls him into a tight hug.

“Don’t apologize,” Megumi scolds him, but there’s no real bite to it. The depth of his concern is apparent. “What happened?”

Yuji just shakes his head, curling further into the other’s embrace. His hands come to clutch the back of Megumi’s jacket tightly, anchoring himself. A hand reaches up into his hair, gently stroking at the short hair of his undercut. 

He feels bad for burdening Megumi even further when the other boy already has so much on his plate, and Yuji has no clue where to even start with his question. He’s sure Megumi’s pieced together some of it, but it’s not like he can just say “Sorry. Your life would’ve been exponentially better if I had never been born. Sorry.”

It takes awhile longer for Yuji to finally sit up, guilt furthering as he notices the wet spot on Megumi’s jacket where his face had been just a moment before. He picks at a hangnail until it bleeds before Megumi firmly locks their hands together as he prepares to confess his sin of being born.

It’s not easy. But Megumi is sturdy and warm and here. He’s thumbing away a tear that’s threatening to spill from the corner of Yuji’s eye, and it’s like the dam breaks then and there. Yuji tells him all of it. He isn’t sure if he makes much sense as he rambles about how Kenjaku actually gave birth to him, but Megumi meets his eyes and holds his hand through it all, humming in acknowledgement when he feels it’s needed and continuing to wipe the tears off Yuji’s blotchy face.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually finishes. He feels like someone wrung him out until he has nothing left, but his body must disagree as he continues to cry, hiccupping softly. Having it all out in the open feels mildly relieving, but more than anything, Yuji just feels tired.

“For what?” Megumi questions, voice soft as his fingers glide across Yuji’s tear-stained cheeks. The question is pointless, they both already know the answer.

“If I hadn’t been born—”

“Don’t. Don’t go there,” Megumi cuts him off, voice shifting into something firm. “Don’t say it would’ve been better. Don’t blame yourself. You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. I can’t imagine a life without you by my side… I wouldn’t be here without you. You can’t decide that it would be better for me, because I know that it wouldn’t be.”

Yuji chokes down another sob and squeezes Megumi’s hand. He wants to deny it, point out all the awful things that he’s responsible for in some roundabout way, but the clarity of Megumi’s tone and the conviction in his eyes leave no room for protest.

“You deserve to be happy,” Megumi continues, their foreheads pressing together. “You deserve to eat well, to sleep well, and to be loved. You aren’t a monster. You’re the person I fell in love with. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

A deep breath. “It’s hard, I know. Most days I can barely get out of bed. Whenever I think about Tsumiki and Gojo and what I did to them, it’s like something terrible is swallowing me whole, and some days, I think it’s going to consume me entirely. But when I think about you, I want to get better. I want to be there for you, every day. It’s worth it, a thousand times over,” he finishes. Megumi’s expression is firm, mixed with an aching amount of vulnerability that makes Yuji's heart swell with indescribable emotion.

I’ll be lonely without you.

“Together,” Yuji whispers. “I want to get better for you, too. I love you so, so, so much.”

Megumi leans in, pressing a kiss to the scar on Yuji’s mouth. “Let’s go home.”

Yuji wraps his arms around him and kisses the scar under his right eye in response. His voice is hoarse but lighter than before when he answers. “Mhm. Home.”

Yuji waits on the doorstep and calls Ijichi to come get them while Megumi gathers up his mother’s belongings and puts them back into the box. Yuji doesn’t think he can bear going through them again and Megumi had quietly offered when he’d mentioned that they needed to put them back.

“You don’t have to do it if you aren’t ready,” Megumi had told him.

“What if I’m never ready?” he’d responded, voice quiet.

“Then that’s okay. No one will force you.”

It’s a weight off Yuji’s chest, but he still feels a forlorn sense of duty towards the belongings in that box. He knows, distantly, that there was a real person at the end of that tangled rope. Kaori. It would be wrong to let her legacy rot away in some box because of Kenjaku. Yuji feels the need to know the person she truly was before all of it, and not the monster that puppeted her body.

But that can wait. Yuji isn’t sure when he’ll be ready to dig through her stuff, not to mention his father’s, but some day, he wants to be able to. With Megumi at his side, he thinks that he can at least do that.

Eventually, Megumi steps outside and they eat konbini bento boxes together on the front steps. It’s peaceful. Yuji wipes a stray grain of rice from the corner of Megumi’s mouth at some point and sneaks a picture when his face starts resembling a tomato. And that’s before Yuji leans in to kiss him.

“Thank you for being here,” Yuji tells him as a text from Ijichi pops up on his phone, alerting them of his arrival. “Seriously. I don’t think I could’ve done any of this without you.”

“I’ll come as many times as you need me to,” Megumi affirms, leaning on Yuji’s shoulder.

“And if that’s every time?”

“Then I’ll be there. Every time.”

Yuji wakes up to Megumi gently nudging his arm. He’d promptly fallen asleep on the other boy’s shoulder (which is quickly becoming his favorite spot to nap) when they’d gotten into the car, tired from both a lack of sleep and from the ordeal earlier. 

“We’re here,” Megumi tells him, voice raspy in a way that tells Yuji that he wasn't the only one to have fallen asleep on the ride home. Yuji rubs his eyes and realizes they are, in fact, back at the school. The sun is setting now, dipping below the horizon, and the spring breeze has settled into a chill for the night.

They bid farewell to Ijichi and trudge their way through the torii gates at the entrance of the campus. Yuji keeps looking down at Megumi’s free hand. He really wants to hold it, and he knows Megumi wouldn’t deny him, but his hefty bag of kitchenware requires two hands, so he reluctantly lets his hand go unheld for now.

Eventually, the two of them make their way over to the student dorms, turning towards the building on the right where the first year dorms are located. Megumi has his head turned just so, allowing him to look slightly off into the distance rather than straight ahead. Yuji is wondering if something is wrong, but before he can ask, Megumi reaches for the door and holds it open for him.

Yuji thanks him, stepping inside and putting his duffle bag down, he’s about to comment on how dark it is, when the lights suddenly flick on and—

“SURPRISE!”

He’s immediately blinded by confetti being shot right in his face, courtesy of Nobara. Before his eyes can fully adjust and register the amount of people crammed in the first year’s common area, his feet leave the ground as he’s lifted into a crushingly tight bear-hug from Todo.

“Happy birthday, best friend!” Todo shouts directly in Yuji’s ear. He’s pretty sure he can hear his ribs creak under the pressure of his arm (and instrument).

“Thank you, Todo,” Yuji squeaks. “But you’re—ah—crushing me.”

Todo promptly drops him and ruffles his hair so hard that he’s pretty sure he’s incurred some kind of head damage. But soon enough, Todo steps away and Yuji can see the room is decorated head to toe with streamers, banners, and string lights. There’s a rather generous pile of presents that’s definitely more than Yuji’s received for a birthday in his entire life, and a fairly grand two-tier cake set up on the table. Not to mention a chocolate fountain and an entire disco ball somehow crammed into the space.

And that’s not to mention all the people. There’s the second and third years who promptly make their way over to ruffle his hair (Panda, Yuta, Kirara), slap him on the back (Maki, Hakari), or a combination of both (Inumaki). Then there’s a few more Kyoto students besides Todo—Miwa, Nishimiya, and to Yuji’s surprise, Kamo, who he hasn’t seen since the boy had fled the country ahead of Shinjuku. There’s also the first year, Nitta-san’s younger brother, he thinks. Across the room, there’s Hana and Amai who wave happily at him from where they’re talking to one another, and Yuji’s pretty sure Angel is just as invested in Amai’s confections as Hana herself is. 

Then there’s the adults, Ieiri-san and Kusakabe-sensei, the latter of whom looks a bit awkward. To Yuji’s surprise, Iori-san from Kyoto is there too, even though they don’t know each other well, but she seems to be happy to chat with Ieiri. Takaba skids around the corner and promptly throws up a bunch more confetti, which is concerning, but Yuji supposes it’s pretty par for the course with that guy. He follows up with a painfully corny joke that Yuji can't help but laugh at. Ino-san is staring at Takaba with increasing amounts of concern, but seems to be trying to ignore it as he greets Yuji cheerfully. 

To his surprise, there’s even Higuruma-san, standing near Ieiri and Kusakabe. Last Yuji’s heard, the man had begun working as a sorcerer, taking on near constant missions. There was some talk about going to trial for the people he’d killed, but nothing’s happened yet. Higuruma still won’t meet his eyes, but when Yuji waves at him, he returns it with a faint smile.

It’s a bit overwhelming with the sheer amount of people who come up to him to wish him happy birthday. At some point while talking to the Kyoto students, Megumi and Nobara get pulled off into their own conversations, leaving Yuji to flit from person to person to catch up with.

Yuji’s never had a birthday party like this before. When he was much younger, a few of his classmates would come over, but that was more of a formality than anything. When he turned 15, it really was just him and his grandpa in a small hospital room. Now, he’s turning 16, and there’s over a dozen people here to celebrate him.

Ever-so stubborn, the familiar ache of grief in his chest is quick to remind him of who’s missing. There's no Gojo singing happy birthday terribly off-key as he sneaks frosting from the cake, no Choso to sweep him into a hug as he cries over his brother getting older, no Nanami to calmly wish him happy birthday with a rare gesture of affection as he pats Yuji's back. He’ll never get to celebrate his birthday with them and that really hurts down in a part of his eternally aching soul. 

By the time his smile has fallen from his face, Nobara stomps up to him as if she sensed that something was wrong from across the room and throws her hands out expectantly. 

“Where’s my hug, you oaf?” she demands. Yuji's smile returns as he wraps his arms around her and his heart already feels lighter. He's grateful that she isn't among the list of people who aren't here tonight. Nobara lowers her voice to whisper into his ear, “We were gonna get a giant cake and have Megumi pop out, but you idiots just had to make plans and ruin it.”

There’s no real bite in it, of course, but Yuji giggles at the image of Megumi popping out of a cake, imagining a deadpan expression on his face as he does so. “I would’ve liked to see that!”

The boy in question must have overheard, because he tugs on Yuji’s left ear and grumbles, “I never agreed to do that.”

“Shaddup,” Nobara says, and grabs him by the collar to drag him into the hug. Unfortunately, the awkward angle throws Megumi off balance, resulting in him knocking Yuji off balance, too, and then they all go crashing down into a pile on the floor. Nobara is yelling something, crushed beneath them, but Yuji is laughing too hard to hear her. 

When they finally manage to get back up, Yuji turns to Megumi and gives his best attempt at puppy eyes. “So, for my next birthday…”

“No.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“I already know what you were going to say. No.”

“But—"

“C’mon Megumi,” Nobara butts in, grinning mischievously, “Don’t be such a party pooper.”

“Hell no. Get Todo to do it.”

“Don’t even say it!” Yuji exclaims, turning to make sure the boy in question hadn’t heard them. Luckily, Todo’s across the room, too busy trying to pin a tail on a tiger, supervised by Hana. Yuji shudders. “He’ll actually do it.”

“By the way, there’s confetti in your hair,” Nobara tells Megumi, “I think you should wear it like that more often! It’s a good look.”

Yuji laughs as she pulls out her phone to get a picture, because there’s indeed a large amount of colorful streamers caught in his black spikes. The other boy grumbles and quickly pulls them out before balling them up and chucking it at Nobara.

The rest of the night goes on like that. At some point, the second and third years decide to see who can give Yuji the best piggyback ride. Panda makes a valiant attempt, but his shrunken state prevents any real attempt. Kirara and Inumaki can barely manage a minute, not for a lack of determination. Yuji’s pretty sure Yuta is being humble and gives up early, leaving Hakari and Maki. At that point, a crowd has gathered and is clapping along as Hakari gives in around a minute shy of Maki’s time.

Later, Yuji gets a tiger painted on his cheek courtesy of Kirara and Hana. He ropes Megumi and Nobara into it as well, with a dog and a rose painted on their faces respectively, and Inumaki gives them a thumbs up as he snaps a photo of the three of them together.

The adults leave at some point, something about going to a bar, and despite Iori’s protests, she seems to be the most excited deep down. Yuji makes sure to thank each of them profusely, especially Higuruma, who leaves him with a vase of vibrant sunflowers.

“I hope you had a good birthday,” the man tells him, staring at some point behind Yuji. 

“Thank you, I did. Especially thanks to everyone,” Yuji says, grinning. He definitely isn’t going to tell him that he had a mental breakdown in his house earlier today. “If you’d like… we could catch up sometime? I know a few nice cafes that are still open!”

Higuruma’s expression jolts, making the man look like a deer caught in headlights. Yuji thinks he’s going to give some excuse or outright reject him, but his expression promptly softens. “I’d like that, Itadori-kun,” he answers. 

Yuji grins even wider as he waves him off, shouting one last “thank you” to the other adults waiting for Higuruma.

As the night goes on, Yuji opens an absurd amount presents and he isn’t sure what to do with half of it. There’s training equipment from Maki, a beautiful tea set courtesy of Yuta, a cute plushie from Kirara, Takada merch from Todo, a fashionable jacket and a pair of jeans from Nobara, and a framed photograph of the three of them from Megumi on top of a brand new cast-iron pan that is probably way too expensive. 

By 1 AM, the Kyoto students, Hana, and Amai have also left, so it’s just the rest of the Tokyo students sprawled out in the common area. Yuji’s pretty sure that Hakari had busted out some alcohol the moment the adults had left, which was thus consumed by the second and third years playing a drinking game. 

Yuji finds himself curled up on the couch with Nobara and Megumi. He’s starting to fade from having had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn, not to mention the rest of his rather exhausting day.

“Thank you guys, really,” he tells them, voice soft. “You didn’t have to get me anything. This was more than enough.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Nobara drawls fondly from where she’s dozing on his shoulder. She lightly pokes him on the cheek with a perfectly-manicured nail.

“You deserve it,” Megumi quietly adds from his other side. They’ve been holding hands for the past hour, and neither of them are eager to let go despite their palms growing increasingly sweaty.

“So, are you guys a thing now?” Nobara asks, definitely having noticed that their hands are practically melting together.

“Yeah,” Yuji tells her. “Sorry, I meant to text you.”

“Does this mean I’m gonna have to third wheel the two of you now?” she asks, faking a gag for emphasis. 

“You’re free to bring your own date,” Megumi replies, snark hidden in his usual calm tone.

“Fuck you,” she snaps, with no real edge behind it.

“I love you guys,” Yuji says, interrupting them from their spat. 

Yuji knows that it’s not going to be easy. He’s still going to have nightmares and all of his terrible thoughts won’t go away overnight. They might never go away and that’s something he’ll just have to live with. He’ll always miss the people he’s lost and he’ll always feel that ever-constant pang of grief. But here, in this perfect moment, Yuji knows it’s worth it.

He feels loved, truly. Sitting among a room of people he can’t bear to lose and can’t help but cherish deeply, Yuji is reminded of how much he still has. And sitting on the couch with two of the most important people in his life, he knows that he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The three of them doze off together like that, curled up on the couch, like nothing can touch them (except for maybe the blanket that Hakari throws at them and Yuta gets up to properly drape over them). All and all, it ends up being one of the best birthdays Yuji has ever had. 

fin.