Chapter Text
The first sense that came back to him was sound.
His body felt heavy, as if an almost insurmountable weight had been placed atop all of his limbs. As an added bonus for his eyes, cinders must have also been pressing them shut, a force invisible yet so incredibly palpable. For the first few moments that passed, all he was able to do was listen. Though no matter how hard he braced his ears, one fact didn't seem to change. It was silent, completely. Odd.
The next easiest thing to focus on was his mouth, which was as parched as a desert, and thick with the taste of sleep. Very slowly, he found the effort to move his tongue around, poking at his cheeks. It too was heavy at first, but after a few more attempts his dexterity was quick to return.
With enough confidence that he could surmount what must have been the comfortableness of a good nap after an intense training session, he cracked his eyelids open. Bright artificial lights instantly flooded his vision, and he had to blink before truly taking his surroundings in.
Looking at the other beds that laid in the same room, it wasn't difficult to clue in that he was in the school’s infirmary room. Though now he could confirm that he truly was alone, despite the fact that Shoko Ieiri was known to spend a fair amount of time in this room. Alarm bells weren't quite going off in his head yet–it still wasn't entirely out of the ordinary–but it was another thing that struck him as slightly odd.
His gaze travelled over to the clock that hung above the doorway. It wasn’t loud enough for the ticking to be audible, but it was at least close enough that he could read the time from where he laid: 1:47PM.
Looking at the time made him realize he wasn't even sure what day of the week it was, and his head swerved around to look for his phone. Luckily for him, there was a little stand next to his bed that had not only his phone on it, but a vase of yellow sunflower-looking flowers. He gave the flowers subtle acknowledgement in his head–a quick admiration of its bright colour–and didn't think past that.
He was more occupied on reaching for his phone, moving in a way that was so entirely natural to him that when his limb didn't beckon to his command, he fully froze. Was it in a cast?
As he glanced down towards his upper-body, the question was immediately dispelled. But it took a few more moments to actually process what he was looking at. Shirtless, yet covered as bound bandages were securely wrapped around his torso and shoulders. As well as a carefully wrapped nub. One that was right past his shoulders. Right where the rest of his arm should have been.
…What.
Immediately ice flushed out all the warmth in his veins, effectively making every single one of his limbs impossibly stiff, and impossibly frosty. He could even feel it in his arm which he could actively see wasn't there. It was impossible. This was…impossible.
His mouth felt impossibly more dry, and he tried to ignore the stinging at the back of his eye. If he couldn't actively feel something acidic slowly climbing up his throat, or the chill of his body, or the salty water that was threatening to spill past his eyes, he could've maybe pretended it wasn't real. It didn't feel real. It looked very real.
The soft creek of the door opening wasn't enough to break him out of his stupor. Nor were the following footsteps. Nor was the sigh that came too closely from behind him.
A voice could at least get to him, though. “I see you're awake.”
Toge registered it as Shoko Ieiri. He didn't say anything in reply. Of course he didn't, he couldn't. But even if he lived in some universe where he could be free from the restraints of his cursed speech, he knew he still couldn't have thought to say anything in reply. How could he?
Ieiri sighed again, and he wondered if at this very moment she too was looking at where his gaze couldn't break.
When she spoke, the words were blunt, yet her tone was able to convey the truth in a softer, less harsh manner. Though that didn't stop the sting of it, not even close. “By the time you were found at the end of the incident, it was too late for your arm. The window for reattaching it had long passed, and ultimately nothing could be done about it. Reverse Cursed Technique was able to handle the rest, though I’m sure that's of littler importance now.”
Toge squeezed his eyes shut, and finally ripped his gaze away from the missing arm. He turned towards Ieiri, looking her straight in the eyes. Searching for something, anything, in that swirl of emotions that laid beneath that deep brown. Nothing. Between that and the slight scrunch in her eyebrows, he couldn't pull out of the slightest bit of anything he'd possibly be able to decipher. If he had to put the name on one emotion though, he'd feel at least confident enough that he could see some pity in there.
Pity. Was he pitiable now? In some way he was almost glad that he couldn't see his classmates and underclassmen now, and that the room was empty excluding him and Ieiri. Not only would more of that gaze be too unbearable even for Toge, but it would force him to come face-to-face with a fact. All their strength was undeniable after all. His now though?
Mentally he shook his head, and dropped his gaze. Judging by the flowers they had probably seen him while he was still sleeping, which he still didn't know for how long that even was. Either way, maybe they’d be back soon.
Ieiri must have still been looking at him. At the very least she hadn't moved from where she stood. It was still inarguably quiet, but now he could hear how his breath had picked up. Not close to hyperventilating, but a noticeable inhale and exhale that had a quicker pace than usual.
Again, Ieiri broke the barrier that had formed between words not spoken. “I'll be back with food.”
Judging by her footsteps she had turned around, and left the small infirmary. Mentally he argued that he could get food just fine, his legs functioned perfectly fine and his…arm did as well. Then he argued back that Ieiri was doing something kind for him, and that his embarrassment shouldn't make him lash out at people…mentally or not. After all, if anyone in the world needed to regulate more explosive emotions, it would need to be him. Letting his anger get the best of him was a set-up for disaster as a cursed speech user. For him, and everyone else included.
God. He was arguing with himself.
He looked back over to the small table beside him. The name of the flowers hit him then–they were gerburas. After taking note of that, he scooted closer to the stand, and finally grabbed his phone with his still-there-hand. Then he stared at the lock screen for a long moment. Right, he'd normally unlock it with the fingerprint of a digit that was no longer there. He'll have to change that eventually. For now though, he swiped up and entered in a sequence of numbers he had almost forgotten.
His notifications were exploding. Well, it was more like they had already exploded. He was about to check his messages when his eyes quickly glanced over the notification of a news article, and stopped dead in his tracks. Urgently, he clicked on it, and quickly skimmed through the whole thing.
Shibuya. Right, Shibuya! How the hell has he forgotten?
It was November 12th…which meant that this was about two weeks ago. He was out for two weeks. It was hard to not feel guilty, even if he didn't have a choice at all in the matter.
He expected to see more recent articles about Shibuya, maybe something either about how it was completely totaled for the foreseeable future or how restoration was going. But as he clicked on the same publishing journal, his confusion expanded tenfold. Tall, black barriers popping up around Japan, people being forced out because of these barriers…what?
Footsteps resumed. Ieiri was back, what impeccable timing she must have had. Toge had so, so many questions. He wasn't sure if those questions made him feel better or worse. As terrible as it was, it was something else to think about. Something else that he could be deeply concerned about, with a different kind of pang sinking somewhere else in his stomach.
He watched as she wordlessly looked between him, and his phone. “As a doctor, I should tell you that it isn't good for you to be looking at so many stressors after just coming out of a traumatic injury,” she paused. “But as a jujutsu sorcerer, I can understand the urge to want to know what's going on with the state of things right now.”
Toge was about to set his phone down. He was going to ask her what had happened after everything in Shibuya. Before he did that though, he remembered one issue. With only one hand, he wouldn't be able to do sign language anymore. Shit.
After only a momentary freeze, his finger swiped away from the article and he opened up a text to speech app that he had seldom used before. At the same time, Ieiri set a plate of food down on his table. He slowly typed in his question, and after a minute the mechanical voice spoke out for him. “What happened after Shibuya?
Regret passed over the other’s face. She walked away, to one of the cabinets that lined the wall, and rummaged through one of the drawers. There was the distinct sound of lighter being flicked, and as Ieiri turned to face him again he saw a thin cigarette being cradled between two fingers. It huffed up a fume of smoke, and he watched as she quietly took a few drags.
“Sorcerers and citizens alike, many were injured. Many died. You mostly completed your objective. Sukuna destroyed most of Shibuya with his domain. Gojo got sealed. Okkotsu came back. The culling games started.”
His mouth dropped agape. Multiple times. This couldn't be real–none of this. His processors were getting fried, and fried again after each punch of revelation he had been thrust with after the few minutes he had of waking up. His axis of the world as he knew it had been thrown completely perpendicular to where it should've been.
He didn't want to know, but he had to know. Mechanically his fingers flitted across the phone’s small keyboard, and the same voice as before rang out. “Who died?”
Ieiri’s gaze dropped. He could tell what she was about to say she didn't really mean. “That's not important anymore. At the very least, all of your schoolmates made it. Some…in more critical conditions than others.”
He wanted to be relieved at the news, and there was a part of him that obviously was. But people died. And despite others apparently also going down roughly, the fact was that Toge had clearly taken the longest to recover. It was hard not to face the fact that he might've been the weakest there. If not then, then surely now.
More rapid tapping. He needed a better explanation, desperately. Despite that, it still took a minute for him to send the message through. His hands were too shaky, and he kept making typos that needed to be fixed, even if it was only simple two words. “Gojo sealed?”
“There's a team working now to find a way to unseal him. Gojo sure didn't make this an easy task though.” As she answered, there was an unmistakably pained expression on her face.
He didn't ask about Yuta. Any happiness at the hearing of his friend's return was immediately dampened by the fact that something imminently dangerous was most likely approaching, or already here. It was unsettling, and that feeling settled comfortably in his body as he mulled over some of the occasions as to why he might have returned. There was not only what had happened in Shibuya, but also the Culling Games that Ieiri had previously mentioned. Before he could ask though, the sound of quick footsteps approached from a distance.
A head peaked through the door, and he saw the familiar bob of his brunette underclassmen. She turned towards them, and as a look of surprise passed her face, he mirrored the expression. She was wearing an eye patch.
“Inumaki!” Kugisaki exclaimed, an airyness of being caught off-guard carrying through her voice. “You're up!”
He gave a light smile–or at least he tried. He was pretty sure it looked more solemn than anything else, and at the very least he certainly felt very solemn. Deleting his half-written question about the Culling Games, he typed out a new message. “Hi.”
She sauntered fully into the room, and Ieiri gave a nod upwards. “Oh my god, it's so nice to see another face around here, no offense Ieiri.”
He nodded, and typed out another message. “Is it just us three?”
Kugisaki lit up, as if she had just remembered something. In the same instant, her face contorted into something more serious. “Oh right! Right. Maki has returned.”
Despite the fact that Kugisaki hadn’t answered his question, he still piped up at the mention of Maki. During that night in Shibuya his mind had been occupied, but by now he had enough time consciously awake that was enough to worry about how she had been. Not that he didn’t think she could handle her own–she could probably handle it more than he himself could. Still.
“Do you know how it went?” Ieiri asked, turning towards the girl.
Nobara frowned. “It didn’t feel right to ask. Her clothes were stained with blood, and it was clear that she wasn’t in the right headspace to be talking with anyone else.”
“Alright.” Ieiri didn’t continue and instead passed Kugisaki, leaving the room and the two students alone.
He looked between Kugisaki, the door, then back to Kugisaki. She opted for a shrug, so he shrugged in reply. Despite the mattress being so stiff, the pillow behind him was surprisingly soft, and he felt himself able to relax a little as he sunk deeper into it.
“Hungry?” Kugisaki asked, while looking at the clock. That was right, it was close to noon.
As he shook his head, Kugisaked groaned in reply.
“Come on, your body probably hasn’t eaten real food in a bit. Plus if you’ve been cooped up in here for so long! Let's take your plate to the cafeteria. I’d only been for half of your time, and I was already going insane.” She stopped, seeming like she wanted to add more but had to cut herself short.
Toge could have argued that he had very much been passed out the entire time, but he didn't feel like typing all of that out. Instead he opted for a much shorter, “I'm tired.”
Kugisaki pouted, then shrugged, then sighed, then grinned. “Well, if you say so. I'll be back eventually though, so don't think I won't be.”
“Shake,” he creaked out. It was so quiet that he wasn't even sure if Kugisaki had properly heard him before she had shimmied her way to the exit.
But at the last second before she truly left, she tossed a plastic water bottle over to him. Not expecting it, he scrambled to catch it before noticing that it had landed by his thigh. She probably hadn't expected him to catch it, then. Still, he was grateful. Just as much as speaking felt grate-ful on his throat.
It was a bad joke, he shouldn't have felt amused at it. Especially since he was the one to think it in the first place. Even so, it did make him feel a little better–a little more like himself–as he placed the bottle between his thighs to hold it in place as he screwed off the bottle cap.
He leaned over and placed the cap on the table beside him, before taking a long swig at the bottle. Cool but welcome clarity washed over his bones, and he felt himself settle. It didn't immediately wash away all of his soreness, nor sadness, but it was a nice refresh. Leaning back, he took another sip, and felt as the water flooded the cracked Sahara of his throat. He closed his eyes.
They shot back open, a moment later. Doubling over, he coughed as water ran down the wrong pipe. At the back of his mind he was a tinge surprised that doubling over didn't hurt, but the front of his mind was very much else occupied. His fit of coughs lasted a few more painstaking minutes, before he let out a few last wheezes.
That's what I get for trying to drink while semi-laying down. He sighed internally.
Setting the bottle down beside the bottle cap, he turned over to face the table. More specifically at the flowers that were a few centimeters away.
His gaze didn't leave them as he sunk further into his pillow. Idly he wondered how long they had been sitting there, after all none seemed to be wilting yet. The bright yellow was undeniably pretty, but he couldn't stop his sight from dropping lower to where the cut stems were. Still pretty, but cut. Sooner or later the flowers would lose their vigor, and wilt like the rest of bouqueted flowers.
—
When he woke up again, he instantly noticed how the blaring lights were still on–despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. Groaning, he rubbed his eyelids–no, eyelid. It still felt like he'd be able to rub both but as his hand raised, it was only one his left eye that felt pressure being put upon it. Right. He opted for rubbing one after another.
For the second time of the day, he peeked around and checked the clock. This time, it read 7PM and he just had to hope it meant that it was actually still the same day. On the table that was occupying the rest of his stuff, he saw that beside the other untouched plate there was the addition of a bowl with a porcelain spoon resting atop of the curve. Sitting up, he peered inside and saw that it was Okayu. Raising a hand to the bowl, he could feel that it was lukewarm, but not yet cold.
As he picked up the bowl with one hand, the spoon fell into the watery substance. The weight wasn't close to terrible, but it would have definitely been easier to pick up with two hands in tow. Alas.
Picking up the slowly-submerging spoon, he plunged it a little deeper into the porridge. Slowly, very slowly he ate. The flavour was mild, which was something he could very much appreciate at the moment. Most of the time he’d be more than down for some spicy chow, but the simplicity in this plain bowl was almost a sort of comfort.
A throat cleared. It wasn’t his.
Spinning his head around, he looked for the source. He should have noticed–their cursed energy should have made him notice. Atleast, that was what he thought, until his eyes landed on the figure leaning against the wall across from him. Maki?
Everything he knew told him that that was her: the hair colour, that piercing gaze, her form, her cursed energy output–but it didn’t look like her. Mangled tissue scorched by burns had ravished a fair portion of her skin, as if for only a few milliseconds lava had been entirely poured down on her. Not only that, but her hair was much shorter, and she was missing her glasses as well. Even her whole demeanor felt centuries apart, as if she had aged a lifetime. Definitely more mature. But it was undeniably still Maki.
His hand faltered for only a moment, but it was enough for the spoon to again slip from his fickle grip. He stared, and she stared back. One blink. Two blinks. Slowly, hesitantly, he waved his hand.
Maki broke out into a smile, though it was clearly dampened with a sort of underlying turmoil. “Hey, Toge. Seems someone’s finally up.”
He exhaled a breathy laugh, nodding in agreement. If there had been any tension in the air that had been caused by the two, it dissipated as easily as the give of a dry leaf as it was stomped on. Maki sauntered over, and he could tell just from the way she walked that there was a stiffness to her muscles that wouldn’t be able to go away so easily. He didn’t want to pry, shouldn’t. So instead he picked his spoon up, and continued eating until the bowl was halfway done, before stopping. He wasn’t really hungry to begin with.
“They’re all dead.” Maki told him anyway, voice gravely.
If a pin had dropped it would have been audible. He stilled, glancing to where she stood next to him. He scrunched his eyebrows, worry flaring beneath his skin. After a pregnant pause, he managed to find his voice, uneasily asking “...Takana?”
“The Zen’in clan,” She tentatively sat down on his bed, and brought a hand to cover her eyes. A sharp inhale. “Mai.”
His eyes blew wide, and he looked towards where Maki’s eyes were currently hidden. Then instinctively, his gaze dropped. He opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say. Nothing he could say, and he wasn’t sure if any words would be correct enough to be able to soothe Maki now. He wanted to look at her in sympathy, but he was sure that the last thing she wanted was pity.
A cruel–though he found it sad–laugh bubbled out of Maki, but as quick as it started it fizzled into nothingness. “I can’t put it into words. This feeling. It's too surreal.”
At the very least the feeling of unbelievability was now unfortunately less than foreign to him, and that was something that he could understand. After he set the bowl down on the other side of himself, he put his hand on her knee in solidarity, and Maki continued. He did not interrupt.
“Maybe you’d understand, at least more than anyone else here. That clan never held any love for me–I was worthless as a girl with no cursed energy. Found me useless at birth.” She sighed. “Doesn’t your clan want rid of all the sorcerers in their bloodline? It’s a little different but…” She trailed off.
He squeezed her knee. Right, that was right. Even if it seemed like their situations were complete opposites, he knew what it felt like to be ostracized from family because of jujustu. He never had anyone like her Mai, though.
“Guess there’s nothing to do about that, except living with it. Getting stronger,” Maki concluded, taking her hand off of her face and turning her head towards Toge. He gave an affirmative nod, and Maki quickly sat up, and off the bed. Her facial expression was still heavy, but her voice was lighter. “Come on, you’re not actually sick. Reverse cursed technique should have dealt with any lingering injuries or pain a long time ago.”
Reverse cursed technique. He took a moment looking at where his arm used to be, and wondered. He wasn’t a user of it, and he didn’t know the intricacies of how it worked either. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why that hadn’t been enough to heal his arm back. Where it went. How it had been detached was a blurry memory in his mind–he was sure he passed out not long after. Still, Ieiri had said that there was a window of reattachment that had been passed, so maybe it was still lying around somewhere instead of being fully chopped up into unintelligible pieces by Ryomen Sukuna’s Domain expansion.
Another part of him wondered what would happen if he looked at his arm and screamed at it to regrow. He wouldn’t do it, the risk attached was unknown and he didn’t really want to put his body in any more danger. It still was a fantasy that he couldn’t help but quickly mull over in his mind.
“You’ll probably get a prosthetic similar to Mechamaru’s soon, then you’ll be ready to join the rest of us,” Maki added, looking like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Her expression reminded him of Kugisaki’s earlier.
Who were the rest of us, he wondered. He hadn’t even been told who had died yet, aside from Gojo being sealed. Since that managed to happen, he was sure that deaths were able to follow. Frustrated, he slipped off the bed, and ignored how his legs slightly wobbled when he planted his feet. It was as if his whole center of gravity had been thrown off center. Which well, it had.
Just as he recovered, Maki began walking away and he hurried to follow. He had an inkling of an idea where they were going, but his main focus was quickly reteaching himself the mechanics of walking. He hadn’t forgotten of course, but after apparently two weeks of disuse it definitely felt more foreign to him. Gradually though, he was able to fall back into the swing.
Maki slid the door open, and the two walked out into the moonlight-bathed courtyard. Right, he thought, so this is where this is going. In step, the two made it towards the clearing where they had trained so many times before. With the time of day and the fact that most other sorcerers had been deployed away, there would be nobody else to witness them at the training grounds. Maki took one side, and Toge walked across to the other.
He took a defensive position, and Maki closed the gap with balled fists. Maki’s physical prowess was under no circumstances something to scoff at, and Toge’s agility likewise was more than able to hold its own. They both needed to compensate for the lack of reliability of a cursed technique, after all. Now though, it was undeniable that both were clearly not in prime form.
She threw a punch, and Toge narrowly missed it, stumbling along the way. He tried to counter it with his one good arm, but Maki was able to easily catch it. The harsh punch to his gut was unavoidable, but while that happened he was able to throw them both tumbling to the ground and in return he sent a knee towards Maki’s stomach.
On the ground Maki’s hand still had his caught, and through tugging alone he wasn’t able to get it released. With one arm still free she was able to continue sending a barrage of hits towards his core, despite the awkward angle on the floor. To escape her grasp he quickly changed a knee to a multitude of kicks to get her off him.
Not-quite getting flung back but pushed far enough that they were separated, both were quick to jump back onto their feet. Internally, Toge wondered in what scenario he would ever be winning this. That didn’t mean it didn’t feel nice to release any emotions like this, though, and as Maki charged at him again he side-stepped and landed a hit square on her back.
With lightning-fast reflexes, she was able to quickly follow his attack up with a punch of her own. It was as natural as the ebb and flow of the ocean under the moon: the dance between punches and dodges the two managed to fall into. Though it was clear Maki was leading the offense, as Toge fought to remain defensive.
He didn’t want to be on the defense. He should’ve been stronger than that. Stronger than what had happened when those curses attacked the school. Stronger than what had happened in Shibuya. Stronger so that he hadn’t had been the only one left in the infirmary two weeks after everything had transpired.
Yelling, he balled all the energy he possibly could into his tight fist. Tensing, he channeled that movement towards the other, eyes pressing shut. He almost didn’t expect it to connect. It did. Before he could peel his eyes open though, a force more powerful than his own body-slamed against him and he tumbled towards the floor with a heavy grunt, winded. Lungs filled with lead, and he breathed heavily against the cool air. From above, he could hear Maki do the same.
Cracking an eye open, he could see clearly now how her eyes were glossed over, as if her mind had been somewhere else the whole time. With pain throbbing from just about everywhere for him though, it was impossible for him to be anywhere except for in the moment. It stung, but it stung good. Maki must have known this would happen–of course she did. Her consideration was sometimes shown in subtle ways, but that was just the kind of person she was.
The soft, pale light of the moon continued to embrace the two. A few moments continued to pass like this, with Toge on the ground and Maki, lit by the moon, standing above him, both panting in attempts to suck in air that was actively trying to escape their intake.
Gradually that too was able to dissipate, and when it did Maki–for the second time of the night–helped Toge get up, this time offering a hand. For the second time of the night, he took that offering, and was hauled upwards. If only slightly, he noticed how her eyes were a little more clear.
“Feel any better?”
He let the question hang in the air for a moment, before answering. “Shake.”
Mak quietly let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, I get that.”
No further words were exchanged as they reentered the building, footsteps breaking the silence of the tranquil halls. Their path was different than the one they took to get to the outside, and Toge figured that they must be heading towards the dorms instead. Two minutes later, his theory was confirmed.
Maki’s room was closer, and as she opened the door she farewelled a, “See you in the morning.”
Before he could reply, the door had slid shut. Left alone again, he wobbled towards his door and stepped inside his bedroom. It looked the same as it always had, messy enough to be considered clean, but not clean enough to be considered neat. A shirt here, a scatter of games there. Now he only wished that he had taken the time to organize everything away, as he regrettably wondered how he was going to put away some of the things with only one hand. Sure, he was bound to get a prosthetic sometime, but he was certain that that wasn’t on the priority list of the higher-ups.
Trudging towards his bed, he flopped down onto it and sunk into the soft covers. Properly lying down it was impossible to ignore the stinging throughout his body, and he was sure that it was going to be sore in the morning. Despite that, he tried his best to ignore it, distracting his mind with other thoughts.
Thoughts that could focus on the silver lining. Maki was alive, and here. Even more, Yuta was back after so long. Remembering that, his heart couldn’t help but speed up, despite his best efforts at keeping it level. It really had felt like forever, and a selfish part of him was glad that he was back. Even if the circumstances were terrible.
He snuggled further into his covers, despite the fact that he wasn’t actually under them and was really still on top of them. Honestly, he was still sweating anyways, and he didn't need the extra warmth of blankets. That fight must have pumped him up more than he thought, as his heart continued its fervorous beat.
Tomorrow, he’d talk to Kugisaki and Maki. Then in the future, the rest of his schoolmates. They were strong.
And then, he’d see Yuta once more.