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When Nobara first met Yuuji Itadori, her first thought was, instantly and unambiguously: What. An. Idiot.
That impression didn't really change. At all.
Itadori had stuck out his hand at her and she had seen the food stains still clinging to his palm. Grubby too, she noted.
The other guy wasn't much better. And don't even get her started on their teacher.
She had been bummed that there wasn't any women to greet her. Jujutsu had always seemed like an especially feminine thing when she was growing up, having been taught by her grandmother, who had been taught by her own mother, and her by her mother before. Even though she was leaving Fumi behind, she had been excited to meet some other women who could relate to all aspects of her lifestyle, including but not limited to the violent murdering part.
But it was whatever. She could work with this whole sausage fest. It wasn't going to stop her from having a good time.
Gojo rubbed his hands together in a manner which could only be described as devious "Alright students, get ready. We're going… to Tokyo."
She beamed, practically jumping for joy. Fushiguro remained annoyingly bored-looking, cutting through her enthusiasm with a dry stare. She almost stuttered in her movements, but before she could think to feel embarrassed, she saw that Itadori was right beside her, dancing to the same beat.
"We love Tokyo!!!" He sang, terribly off-tune and grinning like it was the best news he'd heard in months.
She had smiled back, joining in his terrible singing.
Yes, she thought, I can work with this. This would work just fine.
Itadori is definitely a freak, she decides, staring at his fist poking through the concrete. The concrete of the wall that he'd just punched through. With no cursed energy. Fist. Through the wall. Concrete.
He doesn't seem too shocked by the whole thing, like this is just an average Tuesday for him. And hell, maybe it is.
"It's not reinforced!" He explains when she shouts at him, like that makes it any better. "Besides, why are you asking all the questions? Why'd you even come to Jujutsu high anyway?"
He's not impressed by her answer, but he doesn't need to be. The only opinion that matters is her own. Even so, she doesn't want him to think she's ungrateful so she smiles at him, briefly during her thanks.
He looks bewildered, probably about to say something sappy and annoying in a way only a man could, where he's simultaneously trying to be humble while also relishing in his achievement. She puts an end to that immediately "Now we're even! I said thanks, so enough of all that talk! We're square!"
He still looks a little bit pleased with himself, but he doesn't say anything else. Itadori can be annoying, sure, but he did just save her life. And only seemed to realise he'd done it once she'd brought it up.
Good egg, she decides, and that impression sticks too.
Fushiguro is still grouchy when they reemerge from the dingy building but she's pretty sure he's a total sap. She can see the way he's looking at Itadori. She's not blind.
"Let's get sushi!" She shouts out, when Gojo offers.
Itadori is just as quick "Steak!"
Gojo intervenes before she can beat some sense into him. Itadori looks similarly enraged at her choice. There's a comfort, in that. The faux-offence and annoyance that's usually only reserved for your close friends and family, people that you let get on your nerves because they let you get on theirs. It's unusual, for her at least, to have found it in someone so new, a practical stranger.
But she supposes they're as good as her family now, all three of them together for the foreseeable future. It's a realisation that should feel claustrophobic.
But as she watches Itadori laugh, limned in pink against the sunset, she finds herself almost glad.
Nobara can cook a little, a few recipes learned throughout her childhood, her small hands moving alongside her grandmother's weathered ones. She would never claim to be good at it, but she wasn't totally helpless.
But Itadori, Itadori could cook.
He really shouldn't be able to. It's vaguely infuriating, to have someone that just seems to outdo you in every possible way. The worst part is he's so humble that she can't even be mean about it. At least he always offers to make her food. And it is heavenly.
Tonight is one of many nights that Itadori has offered to make up a plate for her. She's sitting at the counter, tea cupped in her hands, keeping him company. It's her way of paying him back. He cooks, and she complains about all her day to day grievances through the whole process. He has heard and weighed in on several of her online arguments in comment sections and helped format her Instagram slideshows. Again, unfairly, he has a fantastic eye for photography. So much so that she doesn't trust herself to upload something unless it's been approved by him first.
She's getting another post ready tonight, scrolling through her camera roll as Itadori bustles around in front of her.
"Hey, did you send me those pictures from our mission in that farmyard? The ones with the mountains in the back?"
Itadori doesn't look up from where he's pushing something around on the pan "The ones of you or just the scenery ones?"
"Both, duh."
"Oh duhh." Itadori rolls his eyes at her, but he grabs his phone anyway, firing off a quick message.
Her phone buzzes in her hand "Thank youuuuu~" She sings, dragging out the syllables as she begins to rifle through the photos.
"No problemmmmm~" He matches her tune, grinning over his shoulder.
She smiles back at him. It's a nice rhythm they have going, comfortable. She doesn't feel like she has to prove anything here, cosy and warmed by the steam from the dinner they're about to share.
The door creaks open, Fushiguro, the last member of their motley crew, stumbles in.
Itadori perks up immediately. Pathetic she thinks, watching them move with the grace and subtlety of two kindergarteners.
"You hungry, Fushiguro?" Itadori is still stirring the pan absentmindedly, full attention clearly on the boy lingering in the doorway.
Fushiguro looks surprised to see anyone here. It makes sense, given he lived here alone for months on end before they moved in. She wonders if he was lonely. He doesn't seem the type.
"Uh, yeah, I guess. I just came in here for a snack. So."
God, he's so awkward. Who raised this boy? Has he ever even seen a human being before now?
"Itadori's making dinner." She blurts out, before Itadori can say anything to scare him off.
"Oh. Right. Uh, okay. Well. I'm going to just grab my toast and go."
Itadori blinks, looking vaguely panicked "Why not stay? I have enough for three."
That's a complete and utter lie, and Nobara knows it. Itadori eats enough for three people alone and will occasionally spare a normal sized portion for her simply out of the goodness of his heart. But she doesn't call him out on his falsehood. This single, incredible display of willpower and kindness must repay at least four of her dinners alone.
Fushiguro looks similarly flustered, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He might well be speechless.
They're insufferable.
He opens his mouth to respond but Nobara is quicker "You'll stay." she gives him a hopefully reassuring and simultaneously stern look "Itadori's a really good cook."
Itadori smiles at the praise, and Fushiguro also looks oddly pleased at her remark, nodding slightly "Okay, I'll stay." He clears his throat "Thanks."
Five of her dinners repaid.
The dynamic has eased once they sit down to eat, the conversation flowing naturally among all the aromas mingling in the air.
Fushiguro tells a deadpan joke that makes Itadori spray water from his nose, this, in turn, makes Nobara choke on the vegetable in her mouth and they both have to thump her on the back to get it out.
All in all, it's a nice night. Good food and better company make for the best evenings, isn't that what her Grandmother always said?
Going to bed that night, she finds herself almost giddy with delight. The future has so much more of those nights in store for them. All three of them, stuck together like glue. She repeats it like a mantra in her brain, over and over.
Stuck like glue. All three of them, forever and ever. Warm meals and shared laughter, forever and ever. Stuck to her like glue.
Well, it turns out they weren't quite as stuck as she thought.
The stone steps are cold where they cut into the backs of her knees. She watches the trees wave gently in the wind, reddened leaves shrivelling up and sinking to the ground, twirling and dancing against the low breeze.
Fushiguro sits with her, not quite beside. He's left a large gap between them, big enough for two people.
Or just one manspreading idiot.
God, he really had been an idiot, hadn't he?
It had taken a while for her to get the full story, she had left Fushiguro and Itadori behind in the detention centre to go visit Shoko. Ijichi had seemed hesitantly upbeat about the whole thing during the drive, assuring her that even though these missions were unusual for first years, the two boys were more than capable.
What a load of crap. She'd believed it too, believed it because she'd wanted to. Because it was easier to swallow than the fact that she'd left them both to die without any form of getaway car or backup. She'd almost sang the reassurance to herself, thought it hard enough as if it could make it true. They're more than capable. Itadori has one of the strongest creatures in history living in his body. He can throw a car. Fushiguro can fly with his creepy shadow-bird thing. They'll be fine. They have to be fine.
She'd sang it in her head all the way home, the entire visit to Shoko's office, throughout the long stretching hours spent sitting with her knees to her chin in the kitchen.
Sang it all the way up until Fushiguro had pushed through the door, sopping wet and with a look in his eyes that she'd never forget for as long as she lived.
"Fushiguro! I've been waiting for hours, what happened? Is Itadori with—"
"Dead." He'd spat, hair dripping onto the hardwood. His nails were digging into his palm. "He died. Sukuna killed him."
She had felt immediate and terrible disbelief, wanted to call him a liar, words rushing about before she can even really think about it "What?! What do you mean? How did— I mean, how did Sukuna kill him, they have the same body he can't have died, why would he have, I don't—"
Fushiguro watched the blood dribble down his wet palms "He ripped—" He took a long laboured inhale, voice catching "Sukuna, he ripped Itadori's heart out."
"Why?" Her own voice broke at the end. She didn't know why she asked the question. The answer wouldn't have changed anything. Dead was dead.
"To use Itadori as his own hostage. Sukuna is able to used reverse cursed technique to keep himself alive without a heart. Itadori would die if he switched back."
"But he still switched back."
"…Yeah."
She sniffed, trying to push down the growing lump in her throat "Wh— I can't. Oh god. He's really dead isn't he? That's it. He died. Oh god—" Her fists are pressed against her eyes, trying to stifle tears and failing. "Did he— I mean did he have any last words?"
Fushiguro looked at her with this awful haunted expression, finally meeting her eyes "He said," He licked his lips, tongue catching on the chapped skin "He said to 'live a long life.' And he wanted to make sure I told you that."
"Oh." She mumbled, feeling terribly terribly hollow.
"I have to change." Fushiguro blurted, trudging over to the door and disappearing behind it. It was only then that Nobara noticed just how much blood was mixed in with the water pooled on the ground. She stared at it for an awfully long time after that. Nobody else came into the kitchen. There was nobody else to come in.
She cried privately about it, to herself. Then now, publicly in front of Fushiguro on the steps. It's awfully embarrassing, to have him know she was fond of that idiot. Especially when he seems to be taking it tremendously well, for someone who seemed to be a little more than fond. But maybe that's not fair. Fushiguro hasn't eaten anything since, and it's been well over 24 hours. She should say something to him about unhealthy coping mechanisms, but the only reason she knows he hasn't eaten is because she had stayed in the kitchen watching what remained of Itadori swirl in a puddle on the hardwood, so she really doesn't have a leg to stand on here.
The second years demand they partake in this exchange event. It seems a little rude, to interrupt their mourning, but then again, death is normal for sorcerers. So normal in fact, she'd been a little surprised when Fushiguro revealed it was his first time losing someone, especially since he'd been involved with Jujutsu for so long. She wants to say something to offset the tension in his shoulders that he's been carrying since he'd walked into the kitchen. Except she doesn't really know how. They never reached that same level of comfort that she and Itadori had.
He would know exactly what to say to him, she thinks, and immediately wants to cry about it.
Instead, she stands up straighter "We're in!" She declares, hands on hips. Fushiguro stands a little straighter too, nodding in agreement.
They'll both do it, they'll win it for Itadori. Make him proud.
She hopes he's grinning down at them, wherever he is.
When Itadori pops out of that box with that stupid grin on his face, Nobara almost kills him a second time.
Because, seriously. Seriously.
She appreciated a good prank, had pulled many over the course of her life. But this was just cruel.
"You idiot!" She slammed a fist against his head, hearing his tiny idiot brain bounce around his tiny idiot skull. "Are you insane? What do you have to say for yourself?"
He blinked up at her with his stupid idiot eyes "Uh… surprise?"
She punched him again.
"Owww! Alright! Geez! I'm sorry!"
"Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you guys I was alive."
"Right." Nobara sniffed, crossing her arms. She wasn't really mad, of course. Moreso deliriously relieved. She swiped at the tears pricking at her eyes. Itadori didn't need to know about that part, yet.
Fushiguro is a few steps behind, still just staring at Itadori like he's an apparition or ghost. She doesn't blame him. He'd seen him actually die, watched the life drain from his body.
Itadori must be aware of this too, he's avoiding his gaze, staring at the ground with big sad eyes like a dog. Figures it's Fushiguro's opinion that he cares about more. Of course. Stupid idiots and their stupid feelings. She shoves him, not altogether ungently, in Fushiguro's direction.
"Apologise." She hisses, and stomps away to go beat up Gojo. They'll sort themselves out. At least now, Fushiguro won't be as insufferably mopey. Instead, he'll be back to his normal self, insufferably oblivious and pining.
As she gets further away, she can hear the low drone of Fushiguro's soft reprimand. She doesn't have to look to know that Itadori is hanging his head all pathetic. It makes her smile, a secret quiet one just for herself. Back to normal, as things should be.
Nothing goes back to normal, in the end, but everything remains fine somehow. Nobara still goes shopping and she still brings Itadori with her to help carry the bags. Life goes on.
They're walking down one of the less busy streets in the district, Itadori's arms laden with her many purchases. He's good in that he never complains. Even if he did, she probably wouldn't listen to him. He can punch through concrete. He'll be fine.
"So, where are we going now?"
"There's another boutique at the end of this road that I want to check out, it's meant to be having this amazing sale."
"Great, lead the way." Itadori gives her a half smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. She can feel her gut twist. It's that same feeling that's been nagging at her ever since he came back. Something's off.
She doesn't know exactly what Itadori did with all his time away, but she knows something happened. It had to have, for him to have changed so much. His cursed energy has developed, strong and steady. More sure. But he has a new look in his eye, the same that Fushiguro has been wearing since the detention center. Haunted.
"So, what did you do while you were busy being dead? Just hang out with Gojo?" She's trying to sound casual, not too prying.
Itadori gives a humorless laugh "Pretty much." he adjusts the bags in his arms "I spent most of it just lying around and watching movies."
"Wow. Sounds rough."
That gets a proper laugh out of him, but it doesn't chase the look in his eyes away. "Yeah, it was kinda awesome. I even, uh, met this… guy," he fiddles with the handles on his wrist, swallowing before speaking "He liked movies too. He was super cool, really smart."
The use of 'was' doesn't go unnoticed by Nobara, and she files the information away for later.
Itadori is frowning now, lip pinched between his teeth. She leans over to knock their shoulders.
"He sounds cool. Did he also like your terrible wormo-man movies?"
His shoulder shakes with laughter against hers "Yeah, he did. Probably more than me."
"Wow, I didn't know that was possible."
There's a silence for a moment, gentle and soft.
"Kugisaki, have you, I mean, have you ever lost someone close to you?" He doesn't meet her eyes when he says it, staring toward the end of the road.
She can't believe him, sometimes.
"Yeah, I have."
"Really?" His head turns at that, evidently shocked "Who?"
"You, idiot."
"Oh." His eyes are blown wide, far too soft for this time of day.
She gives him a thump on the head "Yeah 'Oh.' You're like, one of my best friends, even though you're an idiot. So, don't go pulling anything like that again. It fucking sucks."
"Yeah, it fucking sucks." He smiles at her, eyes shining "You're my best friend too, for the record."
"Duh. You don't need to get all sappy about it."
He laughs, and the look in his eyes is lessened. Just for a second. Nobara counts it as a win.
Nobara hates the middle seat, and Fushiguro is freakishly tall, so Itadori was decided to be the sore loser who sits in between them. It was an easy decision, stupid golden retriever jock was happy to do it.
Except he was actually a bit too happy about it. He leaned into Nobara's personal space one too many times, so she was forced to flatten him out. Itadori, being attacked, retaliated and the whole thing became somewhat of a backseat brawl wherein both Fushiguro and Ijichi ended up getting involved. In the end it was decided that Nobara and Itadori were not allowed to sit next to eachother for the foreseeable future, so Fushiguro was made to sit between them. Nobody was happy about this.
They had been in the car for what felt like hours and Nobara was starting to get antsy. She leaned into the gap between the two front seats "Ijichi! How far away are we?"
"Ten minutes." Fushiguro gritted out beside her.
She pulled back to glare at him "I didn't ask you, I asked Ijichi."
"Well, he's going to say ten minutes."
"Really? And how do you know that?"
Itadori peeked out from over Fushiguro's shoulder "He's right Kugisaki. He's always right." He shook his head, eyes wide in warning.
She scoffed "Shut up Itadori, let me win this."
Fushiguro had his eyes closed, looking thoroughly bored. It only filled Nobara with a bigger desire for vengeance. She made a great show of taking out her phone and dangling it in front of him, her beaded charm clacking obnoxiously. The vein in his forehead half-twitched. Score.
Her nails were like bullets as they stammered against the screen, directions: My location To: Weird Tokyo Middle School She'd Already Forgotten The Name Of. Travel by: Car.
A pinwheel spun and she pumped her fist in the air, shoving the screen in his face until it was almost pressed against Fushiguro's nose.
"Boom! What did I tell you?! Twelve minutes, maybe more with traffic. Oh yeah. Take THAT. You were wrong."
Fushiguro sighs "So?"
"Ach! Don't act all high and mighty just because you lost! That's pathetic!"
"That's what's pathetic?" One blue eye was cracked open, glaring.
"OHHHH you are so—" She's already halfway to thumping him over the head before she's even finished her sentence.
They had to take turns sitting in the middle, after that. Nothing really changed and Nobara was 100% more irritable when she was forced to endure the middle seat so things only got worse, really.
Well. She wasn't wrong about the whole 'things getting worse'.
It all sort of happened at once. Suddenly Fushiguro had a whole secret sister who was in a whole secret depressing coma and nobody really knew what to do about it. Seriously depressing stuff. Nobara resolved to be simultaneously kinder to his poor mourning soul and also keep his pathetic ass in check as a way to pick up the slack in his older sister's absence.
The bridge fight is awful. Fushiguro looks awful afterwards. Itadori is in awful form in the car-ride home. Very quiet and brooding.
It's never good, when he thinks.
Fushiguro has several twigs and weird riverbed goop in his hair and Nobara doesn't tell him because she's still half fuming that he let himself fall asleep while holding a special grade cursed object. Like stealing candy from a baby, it would've been.
Her arm is bleeding sluggishly, and for a moment, she almost wishes she didn't decide to make herself a human voodoo doll. But she knows it was awesome, it worked, looked badass, and proved something. To who, she didn't know, but she felt accomplished. Like a blood pact, or something. An actual fight she'd won. One where she hadn't ran away before the actual brutality began. One where she was the brutality, and they had every right to be terrified.
In the moment, when she realised it could all be up for her, gone bust, go home. She remembered looking over to Itadori, Itadori and his magical poison-resistant body, and being so, so glad it was her, this time.
It was probably something she should unpack at some distant point, but whatever. Such is the life of a sorcerer. It's a privilege to die first, before you look back to see everyone you love queueing up behind you.
Shibuya is gorgeous in the night. It's one of the last things she should be thinking about right now, but she really can't help it. City lights have always charmed her.
She wanders through the vacant streets. It's eerie, disturbingly empty for one of the busiest places in Tokyo. There's something distinctly uncanny and abstract about the lack of people, and in a weird way, that makes it even more beautiful.
Of course, it's not for any good reason that the streets are so hollowed out. The real fun is happening just below her feet, and even though it probably makes her a coward, she's not stupid enough to go down there just for a look around. She'd just about scraped by in her last fight, with that weird ponytail freak, who had been a certified idiot on top of everything else, so safe to say her confidence wasn't exactly where it needed to be.
Plus, nobody actually needs her around to protect them, not anymore.
She shudders to think about Nitta. She had been so heavy, like dead weight. What she very well could've been, if Nanami hadn't stepped in. Guilt spears through her chest, and then suddenly, she can't afford to think about it anymore.
Because, suddenly, the streets aren't so empty anymore.
She recognises him immediately, the curse with a patchwork face, just like Itadori had told her about. The one that had been causing him so much trouble, the one that had put that strange sad look into his eye.
She is going to crush him.
Right before she calls out to him, heckle at the tip of her tongue, she steals a quick glance up at the rooftops bracketing the alley, checking for any hidden adversaries.
Faintly she realises, that for the first time since leaving the countryside, she can see the stars.
They're even more beautiful than she remembers.
Oh well. It all comes down to this.
Funny, how things end up that way. You're in motion until you're not. You're alive until you're dead.
Itadori looks the worst she's ever seen him. He'd called to her, hadn't he? His voice had been so scared. He looks like something bigger than scared, watching her with this awful expectancy.
A part of her wants to do something, cry out, or summon some sort of reversed cursed technique that can save her from this, she'd never payed attention to Shoko's advice because she was such a bad teacher and her explanations never made any sense and Nobara far preferred spending their hour of class trying to wheedle out old gossipy rumours about Gojo's student days, a want that Shoko was only too happy to fulfil, and she'd never listened and she never cared and she kept thinking, Oh, someday, someday, I'll bother figuring it out.
Well. Someday was here, and she was still none the wiser.
At least she knew all about Gojo's first year prank on Yaga. That had to have been worth something, probably just as valuable as her life if she really thought about it.
She should be upset. But more than anything, she feels annoyed.
Because, an ambush, had she really not foreseen that? Not taken the time to actually think about the famously slippery curse that she was fighting and his weird slippery abilities. She knew he was a clone. She expected he'd try and fake her out. She hadn't, for all her wasted years training, foreseen him to ambush her, before she could even assess the situation.
However naively, she'd assumed the curse had a little more respect than that.
She could shout that at him, use her last breath to tell him he's a coward. It probably wouldn't do anything. The curse doesn't even care about her, not really. He just wants to hurt Itadori. A goal which, from the increasingly anguished look on Itadori's face, is something he's achieving to a rather spectacular degree.
She can feel it. Something is very wrong, pulsing behind her eye, like a gunshot about to go off. Something is very very wrong.
And, well, shit. This is really happening, isn't it?
She wishes it wasn't happening in front of Itadori. Poor guy could use a fucking break. If her body could still move, she would give him a hug. She should've done a lot more of that, when she could. She really hates the idea that she might add to the that suffocating darkness that's hiding behind his eyes. She wishes he was far away from this awful place, curled up in their dorms talking over shitty movies and making genuinely divine banana bread. Man, that sounds nice right now. She could really go for an evening like that, when this is all over. Well. If only. Hah.
The wrongness inside her only grows. Any second now.
She hates that Itadori is here. But in a deeper, more selfish way, she's so, so glad. Glad that she doesn't have to be alone. Glad that she can look into the eyes of someone that she loves as it happens. Glad that the last thing she will see, last thing she will feel, will be love.
She is glad it is him she is speaking to, him that is hearing her, when she says her last words
"Hey, tell everyone, life wasn't so bad!"
And that's all she can say, really. It wasn't so bad. She complained, and whinged and moaned, but through all of it, through Fushiguro always leaving the door open when he left her room after bothering her about homework, or Itadori's habit of taking out her laundry and dumping it on the floor while it was still wet, or how Gojo always used the maximum amount of utensils and never washed up after himself. Through Maki continuing to consistently humble her in training, and Inumaki teasing her from the sidelines as she went through said humbling, through Panda always stealing her leftovers. Through Shoko spending hours trying to teach her various techniques in the most complicated way possible. Through Nitta dutifully sending her their favourite celebrity gossip articles to the point of it becoming spam. Through Saori disappearing and showing her what it meant to miss someone. Through Fumi always staying, staying by her side, staying in their stupid small town.
Through everything, however bad, there was still laughter, and care, and love.
There was a lot of love.
It wasn't so bad.
Here, in the depths of the Shibuya Metro, disfigured and colder with each second she spends bleeding on the tiled floor, it's all over.
And it wasn't so bad.
It might have even been good.