Chapter Text
The spring air was crisp around him.
The turmeric sun rays illuminated the bustling city with warmth and a sense of lightness that many citizens clung to. The soft winds blew, dislodging loose sakura flowers to float down through the air.
His breath was quiet compared to the bustling streets of early morning traffic. His chest rose and fell in soft huffs under his long sleeve, before he paused under a bent tree. The dark wood trunk seemed to be webbed with gold as the sun hit it just right.
The wind rustled the leaves.
He closed his eyes and basked in the warm glow.
_____________________
“Gonna give these to a special someone?”
Yuuji glanced up from where he was fishing his wallet out of his pocket.
“What?”
The old woman behind the counter gave a small smile. Her short wrinkled fingers tugged a piece of tape off the dispenser, gently rubbing it into the paper to get rid of the bubbles.
“I asked if these flowers are for anyone special, young man. A girl?” She hummed softly as the pink-haired boy handed her 3000 yen. Yuuji tilted his head.
“Eh? No, my grandpa’s in the hospital right now.” He smiled brightly, lifting the range of colorful flowers up. “Thought these would liven the room up a bit!”
The older woman’s eyebrows creased slightly, yet she continued to smile.
“Well, I’m sorry abo-” The back door behind the little old lady suddenly swung open, where a boy who had to be around Yuuji’s age emerged from behind the flaking green painted door. He was a little taller than Yuuji, and his jet black hair stuck up in haphazard spikes. His navy eyes glimmered with orange specs from the setting sun.
Yuuji made a mental note that he was staring, yet the boy seemed to refuse to even glance his way. His black eyebrows furrowed. Asshole.
The old woman gave an exasperated sigh after catching sight of the dark-haired boy, her hand falling sternly on the wooden counter as she turned partially to face him.
“Fushiguro! I told you, I don’t appreciate it when you’re late. Tell Satoru I’ll be going to him the next time you’re late because of that silly practice!” The black-haired boy, Fushiguro, raised his hand as he reached for a dark green apron hung on rusting silver hooks, causing his bicep to flex slightly.
Yuuji raised a brow. He looks strong. Practice? Must be some sort of sport, Yuuji noted, a glance at Fushiguro's freshly bandaged knuckles.
“Apologies, Furukawa..I’ll be sure to inform Gojo.” His hands tied the strings behind him before turning away, his side now facing Yuuji as he started opening and organizing the drawers at his waist level.
The old woman, now revealed to be a tired yet sweet Furukawa, gave a huff before turning back to the oblivious Yuuji.
“Apologies about that, young man…my helper here isn’t quite as polite.” Not hard to tell that, Yuuji’s inner voice thought with a stare at the side of Fushiguro's head. He looked back down before raising a split brow slightly at Furukawa's knitted brows and downturned lips. “Do you fight as well? That's quite a lot of bandages for a young fellow such as yourself.”
Yuuji’s wide eyes blinked, looking down. He kinda forgot how he looked, honestly. Browning bandages wrapped around his knuckles and secured around his wrist, dark red blooming in small circles at each of his knuckles. His nails were torn stubs, and his thick arms, covered by an oversized yellow hoodie, had bruises blooming near his shoulders.
Fushiguro had glanced over now, albeit subtly, which Yuuji seemed to have no clue about.
Yuuji’s eyes darted back up, one of his torn fingernails scratching at his cheek.
“Hm? Oh, just a few scuffs.” Yuuji gave a crooked smile again.
The old woman gave a sigh, before repeating her earlier interrupted phrase. “What I was trying to say was I’m sorry about your grandpa.”
Yuuji blinked before his smile softened. “Thank you, ma’am, but he’ll be alright.” Yuuji bowed his head. “Thanks for the flowers!” Yuuji’s red high tops squeaked against the smooth tiled floor as he exited the flower shop.
+++
“Yuuji.”
The pink-haired teen let out a hum as he glanced up from the glass vase, his hands still gently cupping the underside of the flowers as he adjusted them.
Itadori Wasuke had every attribute you’d think of when told, “Imagine a grumpy old man.” The muscle in his body had long since deteriorated; his arms and legs, now covered by a scratchy blue hospital blanket, were thin and bony, with loose skin hanging from his biceps and elbows. He had deep-set frown lines and wrinkles all over his hanging face.
Wasuke scoffed softly. “Flowers, Yuuji? I’m not a high school girl.”
Yuuji grumbled, adjusting the flowers again.
“These are for the nurses, old man. A thank you, for dealing with your attitude.”
The old Itadori scoffed, before a quiet settled. He then raised his shaking hand, bony fingers running through his salt and pepper hair.
“..How’s school, kid? Keepin’ your grades up?” There was a slight pause. ”Lots of friends?”
“Yeah, there are some kids in my class that’re fun to hang out with.” Yuuji’s calloused fingers fiddled with a long white petal of one of the flowers. “I only really see them at school.”
There was an awkward silence that followed before the old man cleared his scratchy throat, moving his arms as if to push himself up, before realizing he didn’t have the strength to. Wasuke sighed, his voice gruff and low, before he slowly rolled over onto his side, his bony back to Yuuji.
“Yuuji..you’re a good kid.” The boy paused at his grandfather's bedside. The old man coughed. “A good kid who cares deeply for others. Keep helping others. No matter if they don’t thank you. Save at least one, Yuuji. So when you die, you’re surrounded by people who love you.”
The older man's head relaxed into the pillow, his eyes closing shut as he exhaled.
“Please..don’t end up like me.”
A quiet fell over the hospital room that evening. One that Yuuji realized as soon as it came. No one would want to accept it at that moment. It was something no kid should handle all by themselves.
Yuuji stared down at the rumpled bed. His eyes burned and stung as tears welled up, threatening to spill over. His grandfather's face was relaxed. Yuuji couldn’t remember the last time he looked so at peace.
Yuuji reached for the tan plastic phone beside the bed, sniffling softly as he quietly typed the number for the receptionist.
Click.
“Hello? What do you need, Mr. Itadori?” Yuuji huffed softly, his voice cracking.
“This is Yuuji, his grandson.” Yuuji sniffed. “My grandfather has passed.”
+++
The week that followed his passing was rather quiet for Yuuji. He noticed more of the little things all around him. The shades of orange, yellow, and pink every night as the sun sets. The way the blossoms floated across the pale blue sky during the morning winds. The smell of flowers outside the flower shop and the wafting scent of fresh-baked bread down the street to his school.
He’s no longer in pain. That’s what he continued to tell himself whenever it came back to his mind. His heart still missed the man who raised him, and he knew he always would.
He sighed, a puff of white air coming out of his mouth from the cold morning air as he slumped his head more into the collar of his hoodie.
Save at least one.
Yuuji stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes half lidded. Alright, gramps. I’ll try.
The school day went by as normal. One of his friends had bought a new video game he said Yuuji should try, and another was talking about a girl he wanted to take on a date. The teachers rambled on and on about the current lessons his class was learning, but he simply scribbled away in his notebook.
The end-of-class bell finally rang. He hurriedly stuffed his notebook into his bag before pushing out of his seat, following his peers out into the bustling halls.
He was set on getting to one of the other buildings before his club started. It was the Occult Research club, with two second-year students, Setsuko Sasaki and Takeshi Iguchi. Setsuko was a short-stature girl who took the club most seriously. Yuuji could remember countless times Setsuko went on for hours simply about a new urban legend she had discovered-
“Yuuji!!!”
Yuuji’s face fell into a grimace, his feet scraping against the ground as he paused his brisk jog. Yuuji had finally made it outside, and he was heading on the concrete path towards the building where the club was located.
Couch Takagi was standing beside the stairs leading to that building.
His face was flushed, most likely from running and yelling at the school’s track team. He stared down Yuuji, brows furrowed and hand planted tightly on his hips. “Oi! Come here!” Yuuji groaned in displeasure, but his feet were already carrying him towards Takagi.
“Couch, I have club today.”
“Yuuji!” His hand landed on the pink-haired teen's shoulder, who grumbled. “You’re a strong, athletic kid. You should be using your gifts on one of our teams!” Next thing he knew, Yuuji was being dragged over to the field. “I challenge you in shot put! If you can beat my record, I’ll stop bothering you.” The couch snickered softly under his breath. He may be tough, but there's no way he’ll beat me..
Itadori grumbled as he was handed a heavy shot put ball, moving it in his hand a few times. He looked to his feet, looked back up, adjusting his position before shoving the shot put as hard as he could from his neck.
A sharp clang rang out as the ball landed in the pole of the soccer goal.
Couch Takagi and a few of the track team stood in awe as they stared at the ball, before one boy awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Uh, Coach..? I’d say that's around 30 meters…”
Coach Takagi guffawed, swiveling his head from the ball to Yuuji, then back again.
Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck.
“Can I go now-?” The teen paused, his hand sliding off his neck as he took notice of a baffled black-haired boy, who stared in surprise at the ball lodged into the metal pole.
The kid from the flower shop.
Fushiguro.