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“Tuna.” Y/N turns to the school window. Even at her staggered height, she could at least pretend to see past the thick white of the window sill. And even if Inumaki wanted to call her out for it, he couldn’t. It brought a snicker to Y/N’s lips. “Bonito flakes.” Was stated with a deep sigh. Y/N felt the tips of her lips curl downward. It’s not that she enjoyed being difficult, but some things were… better left unsaid. The steady growth of a blush darted forward with a deep crimson staining the tips of her ears. In no case will it ever be necessary to confess her attraction towards the sorcerer. Yet, the boy was a professional observer. Y/N swore his eyes were sharper than a hawk, and his concern for Y/N’s wellbeing has persevered. But now, it was cause for agitation.
“Taka-”
“Inumaki, please.” Y/N started with the tips of her fingers grasped tight inside sweaty palms. “Everything is fine, and if it wasn’t, you’d be the first to know.” Y/N spoke with a conviction she hoped the other would understand. When she turned to face Inumaki, she wasn’t prepared for a familiar tint of red dusting across the bridge of his nose. Y/N couldn’t help it, poking a finger against the small button of his nose, she laughed in delight. “Ta. Ka. Na.” He dove the burning hot nose deep into the cowl of his uniform.
Life seemed better after the confrontation. Y/N felt lucky that Inumaki trusted her word at face value. Training proceeded at their usual pace, a cursed technique as draining as Inumaki’s required specific training that none of the students could provide for their classmate. They moved briskly around the enclosed school dojo, the scent of sweat and remnants of the janitor’s disinfectant filling the space. Y/N was left to hone the basics with her partner. Where Inumaki lacked brash strength, he compromised in speed. With eyes that seemed to flick back and forth, up and down at every movement of Y/N’s muscles, it proved difficult to crack his defense. Fortunately, Y/N wasn’t restricted to melee. With the flick of fingers against the palm of her hands, Y/N caught the other by manipulating his own movements. Pointing her wrists down - slowly with a cheeky smile that Inumaki most definitely caught, Inumaki fell to his knees. A guttural groan left his always-sealed lips that forced Y/N to focus on the task at hand.
“Pollack roe.” He mumbled with squinted eyes. Y/N laughed with her chest, something that caused Inumaki to keep eyes on his target.
“Sorry, sorry. I know we agreed on physical combat and all, but-”
"Sit.” And Y/N sat, with none the grace to make up for her ass immediately hitting the ground, and it hurt. She managed to shift the bottom of her skirt with a shaky hand, fighting against the other’s cursed energy for an inch of modesty. Eyes furrowed and pinched to show her frustration, Y/N gave Inumaki the only treatment the other truly hated: The silent treatment.
And with the way her eyes slit into slanted curves that showed more lashes than pupil, the boy knew where this was going. It was something of a punishment for Inumaki - to have the remnants of his abilities to communicate be obligingly cut off. Y/N expected the other student to take this as a warning, but also a desperate attempt to show that yes, everything is truly fine. Unfortunately for her, the warning was taken as a challenge.
“Speak.” And Y/N felt the corners of her mouth widen as lips pursed together, the beginnings of forming syllables. Perhaps there is some truth to karma. Y/N struggled against the ever-growing force of Inumaki’s cursed energy prying her mouth open, only to work its way around her tongue, swirling and clicking it against the rosy roof of her mouth to say those words. Truly, if Y/N had known it would come down to this, she would’ve come prepared. As she fought against the air rising to flit through her vocal chords, she pondered what color she would’ve chosen for her coffin. Perhaps a soft pink, something easy on the eyes but still unique in nature. She would definitely prefer for her death as a result of pure embarrassment and shame to commence somewhere that she could, with 100% confidence, say that Gojo-sensei hadn’t had sex in. The mats around them were too old to have not seen some shit. Y/N wondered when the last time the janitors had cleaned those, if ever.
The breath she didn’t know she had been holding filled her brain with oxygen in such a dizzying rush that Y/N held an elbow against the grainy wooden surface of the floor, resting her head from the swirling room. She was angry, but so was Inumaki. There was no authenticity to their truce, only two frustrated youths that were throwing fits at the other. “I could have died, you idiot!” Y/N expressed with such disdain that it was impossible to not notice the way the speech user rolled his eyes. Her mouth opened in disbelief, a pair of lips paled moments ago flushing with the sudden rush of blood. She felt the slim stock of her neck burn in anger, the red surely spreading to the rest of her face in tandem. “You can’t just let it go? Why must you know everything, Toge?” She pointed a shaky finger at him, betrayal and accusation making her weak.
It was implied that she would be met with silence every time, but it didn’t stop her from huffing a breath of indignation. She turned, allowing her legs to stretch as she stood to reach for her bag. They must have been cramping in the midst of her struggle to refuse the other, as she was met with relief by the change in posture. Inumaki’s eyes softened at the realization, allowing the first few glimmers of guilt to flicker inside. His muscles flexed against the impact of a familiar notepad being smacked against the middle of his torso. He looked up at his partner in annoyance, attempting to mimic her previous look of slanted eyes and crossed arms. “I hope it hurt.” She whispered to him like a prayer.
They both silently settled across from one another with legs tucked beneath them, and left the notebook in the middle of the familiar setting. Y/N pushed the notebook towards the other with an insistent “Go on,” only to toss a ballpoint pen at him too, albeit a bit more gently. Inumaki sighed against the growing will of Y/N, knowing that they were going to solve this problem their own old-fashioned way. The sound of a pen clicking into place echoed against the thin paper walls surrounding them as Inumaki opened the notebook, overtaken with the sudden memories of past years presented in front of him. He flipped through the used pages at an agonizingly slow pace for Y/N. The boy smiled behind his raised collar as he studied old conversations, some absolutely bizarre in their humor, and others sincere and intimate. He raised the well-used pen, scribbling for a few moments before gingerly passing the notebook to Y/N. She huffed as she took grasp of it, reading the contents before feeling the first flickers of guilt grow inside her, too.
“I’m sorry, that was a mean trick. Hope you’re okay. I’m just worried.” Right, of course he was just worried. Y/N didn’t feel the way her lips tucked into an instant frown, so she was surprised to feel two fingers dipping into her cheeks to push her lips up, up, up into the most stupid and artificial smile Inumaki could possibly form with those calloused hands. Even with all the constant stress from the past two weeks, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel frustrated now as she laughed at the gesture, teeth poking goofily out of thinned lips. Inumaki quickly released her face with a quick clearing of his unused throat, passing her the pen.
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Y/N paused against the halting of her thoughts. What could she say that she hasn’t said already? It was clear that she was hiding something, and that “something” was a huge bother to hide. She’d be lying if she repeated her insistence of being completely fine. There were only so many more fights she could take between her and her closest friend. She shudders in her thoughts when she contemplates how many more arguments Inumaki would be willing to have before.. Giving up. Her wrist stayed frozen against the smooth paper that began to stick against the new layer of sweat she was working up. And when she looked up, she expected to see some form of frustration or confusion staring back at her, but no. Inumaki looked patient, almost understanding in some form. If he were to show those lips to Y/N, she believes they would be smiling in a gentle form of comfort. She gripped the pen harder, feeling the ghost of that ball point moving to the strokes of ‘I love you’, over and over again. She dropped it, and instead grabbed her face as she felt how truly hopeless this situation was.
She would lose him. One way or another, she would. A sorcerer’s life span was… short, to put it generously. A fact all had to come to terms with, even though some never realized how cruel of a reality it truly was until it was too late. Y/N knew that it would break her when Inumaki’s day came. And, in turn, it would break Inumaki if her time came instead. Neither spoke about it, but that didn’t change their understanding. It was all the more important to spend time with those they loved while they still remained. As the lives of those Y/N trickled down to a single-digit number, she looked at the notepad in defeat. She would lose him, one way or another, she would.
“I love you.” Such a simple phrase that both had repeated either verbatim or in some gesture countless times before, but this time was different. It was new, and the familiar air between the two changed into something that became completely unrecognizable. As a result of Y/N’s eyes being focused (always the stubborn one) on the piece of paper in front of her, she failed to notice how close Inumaki had previously inched towards her in the moments leading up to the confession. How the smell of dried sweat and not enough sanitizer had changed into smooth citrus and something mixed with pine. She looked up at the realization then, to see how her partner had such a look of pure shock poured into violet eyes. Pupils blown wide with every intake of breath, but still fluctuated as the seconds moved by. He slowly reached for the tall collar of his shirt, hesitantly enough to make Y/N accept the defeat. Ruined. Years of memories shattered into something less useful as she looked away, coming to terms with the death of a friend that would still, at least, be breathing.
“I’ve always…” The cursed energy in the room spiked as a poorly practiced voice rose in desperation. Y/N looked up in surprise at the sudden use of a voice that most definitely should not be used in social settings. It seems that Inumaki realized that too, as he began to move his hands in a desperate attempt to convey, well, something. “You are, I know, and-” the sound of those old and cheap fluorescent lights flickering in their fight for survival pushed Y/N into action.
“The pen, Inumaki! Please!” She shouted in desperation. Still, strands of white hair swayed side to side as the other shook his head (always the stubborn one) insistently.
“I’ve always…” and the life of those two lights died tragically and suddenly with the force of just too much from Inumaki. Y/N would write their obituary in a respectful and honorable fashion if she could. They served their purpose for too long, watching over the lives of countless sorcerers training to better the world. Probably since the 1980’s, knowing how cheap the higher-ups are with maintenance and tuition. For fuck’s sake, they hired Gojo as a teacher, and that was not a name Y/N wished to think of as she felt the flinch of two arms cover her from the descending bits of glass and plastic. Right. They died as they lived, loudly buzzing and always suspiciously close to combusting.
Those pair of arms tightened as Inumaki rolled Y/N out of the way, bumping them into the nearest wall and, oh, that’s broken too, now. Helplessly, laughter fell out of Y/N as she realized what a hopeless situation they were. Apparently contagious, as she felt hot breath move up her neck in rhythmic strokes as a firm chest moved against hers. “I love you, too.”
The confession should have been much more confounding and life-changing in the moment, if Y/N were to look at it retrospectively. But, life was always a mess for both of them, and they took what they could get in greedy measures as two pairs of stubborn lips finally crashed. It was clumsy and needy, as if any of this could end at any moment, Because, it could. They smiled while they could, laughed and pretended like the situation hadn’t caused both of them to miss meals and sleep for the past few weeks. Silly. It was silly with such a short lifespan to not seize any opportunity with happiness.
When classes returned to a normal schedule and the two students walked inside their classroom with held hands and excitement between themselves and their peers, they smiled as they explained what had happened. How they confessed. How Inumaki had cost the school $200 that they most definitely had but still cut out of Inumaki’s stipend. They smiled in good nature as the group cultivated by friendship and mortality celebrated the newfound love. Life was too short for them to play it cool and slow.
When Gojo walked in late and most definitely simultaneously high and hungover, Y/N fought the urge to gag as he made a contemplative noise, only to say, “Ah… I see. So it was that training room, huh. Lots of good memories there for everyone, I suppose!” And Inumaki sent Y/N a look that reassured her to make up for lost time and not enough sanitizer.