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Everything was black and white. Good and evil. Despair and hope.
Amidst it all, Maki had always been in the middle. Between ordinary people with little cursed energy and outstanding or capable sorcerers, she was in the middle. She wasn't an ordinary person and tried to fit in. Even her celestial bond was incomplete until recently.
Between black and white, she chose not to be gray.
Red. Crimson, like the blood of her family that trickled through her hands.
The catharsis after the battle that tore apart part of the city and took more than a thousand lives was gone. And each day her sighs grew deeper, and with them, a part of her soul was consumed. It was as if the fury had been extinguished. The sadness didn't disappear; it was as if it had been numbed, as if she were sedated.
Part of it was due to her attempt to protect herself: all those thoughts were relegated to a corner of her mind. She tried to keep busy, but during the night, in the silence that enveloped the darkness and her solitude, Maki felt the silent warning of her end.
It terrified her.
She couldn't bear to be in her room, yet there was nowhere else for her. There was nothing to—
"Maki-san?"
Maki lifted her face so quickly that the sudden movement made her dizzy for a moment.
Yūta, who had interrupted her train of thought and, surprisingly, caught her off guard, walked over to her.
"What are you doing here at this hour?"
Concerned, he asked softly, aware of the time and not wanting to make a noise that might wake someone. Maki doubted that would happen, since they were outside—several meters from the dormitories—but she followed his lead and kept her voice quiet.
"...Are you returning from your mission?"
"Yes. Though I didn't expect to find anyone at this hour." Are you... going for a walk?
"Yeah.. It's too hot. I needed some fresh air."
It wasn't entirely a lie, except that it was the lack of air, not the weather, that had driven Maki outside. The silence of her room was suffocating him.
"Then I got lucky. Is it okay if I keep you company for a while?"
The young woman eyed him suspiciously. He looked like someone who had worked tirelessly for hours; the exhaustion was obvious, and anyone in his place would have said their goodbyes and gone straight to rest. Maki was about to reprimand him, but the words wouldn't come out of her parted lips. Something was holding her back. And without being able to pinpoint why, she ended up nodding.
"How about we take a walk? I'd like a drink from the vending machine."
Maki kept pace with him, listening to every detail of his two-week mission.
"Initially, it wasn't that difficult. The curse itself was less so, but there was no record of a cursed User. It took me by surprise, and I must admit it was tough."
"Sure," she said sarcastically, mimicking Yūta and taking a sip of her tea.
They had been talking for a while, sitting on a bench near the vending machine, which was unusual for them. At least, that's how it had been since that big fight in Shinjuku. These kinds of interactions between them had been commonplace, even during their time abroad and their return after all the horror in Shibuya. They had settled back into a familiar and comfortable routine. But that didn't last long.
After two years of everything they had been through, after Mai's death, their interactions gradually became more limited. There was no personal reason, life simply didn't return to normal after defeating Sukuna. Nothing resolved itself, and they were all left to deal with the consequences. In other words, they were very busy, overwhelmed, and tired—so much so that Maki had even postponed mourning her sister. Not for lack of importance, but she hadn't had the time or the courage (or so it seemed) to do it, so naturally, everything and everyone else was put on hold.
Two years had passed, and while it was far from certain that life had returned to normal, things seemed to be heading in a certain direction—life in Japan, in Tokyo, was aligning itself with what would eventually become the new "normal." Maki, for her part, felt lost.
"Maki-san, is something wrong?"
She looked up and wondered what she was doing to make Yūta look so worried. She dismissed his concern and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"I'm worried you're getting weak if a sorcerer like that is giving you trouble. Consider giving up your Special Class title and passing it on to someone with more potential. Oh no, now I'm afraid your juniors will beat you up during training."
"Hey! You're being really harsh."
"It's my reputation that's at stake. No one will say, «Special Class, trained by Miguel for a few months?'No, Maki trained him for a year.» I can't handle it.
Yūta looked like he was about to collapse, and the groan, besides his distress, amused her.
"You say that because you weren't in my shoes. And he was stronger than he seemed—no, more elusive."
"If I'd been in your shoes, I would have detected it immediately."
"..."
"See? You don't deny it." She laughed at the silence that confirmed her point.
"Then, I'll ask you to accompany me on all missions from now on."
"Am I your babysitter?"
"Isn't it for your reputation?" Ah, Yūta's kind smile didn't suit this attempt at manipulation.
Ugh. Maki couldn't complain, but it bothered her that he was using her own words against her with such a kind gesture. "I'll just deny it. I'll say we never trained together."
"No, you can't! You're my most important mentor, that won't change!"
Being with Yūta was always easy. There was a certain comfort between them. She had forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. They had been so busy that weeks would go by without them seeing each other. Their schedules didn't align or coincide, despite living and sharing the same space: the dormitories and the school's common areas.
The familiarity she thought she had lost was there again.
Yūta made Maki laugh easily, without her having to think about her problems. He was like the warm, gentle breeze that enveloped a summer night.
Without realizing it, a new routine settled between them.
Sitting on a sofa in the common room, staring at whatever was on television, not really paying attention. She was lost in her thoughts. Nonsensical and silly questions that she couldn't shake off.
"So Kugisaki and Itadori did that? I feel sorry for Fushiguro," Yūta said with a hint of secondhand embarrassment, commenting on what she had told him. Just one of his juniors' many crazy antics.
As an unspoken agreement, Maki usually told Yūta about the events of her absences. Of all of them, he was the busiest. It started that night, months ago, when, weeks after their first nighttime encounter, Yūta found her alone in the common room—sitting in the dark, surrounded by silence.
Maki knew why he was doing it; Yūta was worried about her. Before, that would have enraged her, made her scream that she didn't need his pity... but the Maki of now couldn't muster either the courage or the pride to push him away. The Maki of now was lost, she hated the silence and abhorred the darkness. She could see those faces, hear their screams. Because of this, because of her weakness, Maki accepted his kindness; even though she thought of it as pity, she was sure his concern was genuine.
"Look, this is the place I went to. The town is near the sea, the view is beautiful," he said, showing her the photo on his phone. Maki leaned toward him, looking at the picture.
"It looks…like a peaceful place."
"It is. I was amazed: the air is so fresh, the people are friendly, and the food is delicious."
Maki watched Yūta as he continued talking about the place. Yes, it was beautiful, and she could imagine that in such a spacious, open-air setting, one wouldn't feel suffocated.
But what captivated her most was the sparkle of excitement in Yūta's eyes. Those eyes that met hers.
Maki didn't look away; her face remained impassive, waiting. She observed the change in Yūta, how the excitement dissipated, and uncertainty replaced it.
There it was again, that tense silence that sometimes enveloped them, for no apparent reason. When it happened, she felt her chest pound heavier, her breathing slower. She could also hear Yūta's rapid heartbeat, his ragged breathing, the difficulty he had swallowing, and his tense body.
What did they expect to happen? Whatever it was, it was impossible. Between them was a distance that couldn't be crossed. However short it was physically, they couldn't eliminate it. They couldn't touch each other.
Hey, Yūta... if I told you that—
It was Yūta who broke eye contact, clearing his throat and sitting up straight. Maki also stopped leaning toward him, and her gaze fell on her hands.
"Would you like to go?" He was referring to the place he had told her about.
She looked at the photo again and imagined herself in that place, breathing fresh air, far from the horrors of her life. Even if only for a moment, to ignore her reality. Maki nodded.
"Then, let's go sometime."
She looked at him again, and even though Yūta was looking at the image, his face, with an expectant expression, was sheepish.
Her heart, which Maki proclaimed Mai had taken with her, pounded fiercely against her chest, as if making its presence known. Rhyming within her, it stirred emotions she'd sworn no longer existed, emotions that were familiar, and it was Yūta who had provoked them from the very beginning.
Yūta, if I told you how I feel... no, she didn't want to lose this. She didn't want to return to the suffocating, oppressive darkness.
But Yūta was the only one who could save her.
.
.
.
.
Yūta listened to her gentle breathing. The rise and fall of her chest was slow and steady. He brought his hand to her face and gently stroked her cheek, and was especially tender with the burns.
His fingers approached her closed eyelids, but he kept the smallest distance. He took note of her long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, her slightly parted lips, and her relaxed brow. Maki fell asleep during their conversation, but Yūta stayed awake.
There were nights when he couldn't escape the old worries resurfacing. The fear of losing her, the anxiety of doing something that might hurt her. That night, it was because of the Gojo clan, their expectations, and demands. But no matter how much pressure Yūta was put under, he would never, under any circumstances, leave Maki. Even if, by doing so, he disregarded his late teacher's wish, Yūta would not let go of the person he loved.
It had taken them a long time to get there. Under the same blanket, sharing warmth and protection, the comfort of being together.
"Yūta...?"
Yūta held his breath and immediately scolded himself.
"Sorry, did I wake you?"
"It's okay." Maki moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso, burying her face in his collarbone. "You can't sleep...?"
"...I was remembering the past."
She tightened her grip slightly and, at the same time, loosened her arms. It was a gentle reprimand.
"Stop it. Overthinking will make you bald. And I don't want to be with a bald guy."
Maki knew it wasn't just the memories that were troubling him. But her gentle tone and teasing comments were a way of telling him that everything would be alright. And Yūta understood.
"That's cruel, Maki-san. I didn't think you were such a superficial person."
Yūta suppressed the shiver that her soft scoff against his collarbone sent through him. He affectionately stroked her hair, and if Maki were a cat, he was sure she would purr. He held her, promising to himself that he wouldn't be apart from her, because he was sure he couldn't live without Maki.
Amid soft murmurs and nonsense spoken in the privacy of their room, holding the person they loved in their arms, the darkness was no longer suffocating.