Chapter Text
There was nothing amiss on that bright, Tuesday morning. The sun began its ascent and its rays shone bright through the window, as always. The uniform for the day waited in the pile of dubiously clean clothing. The phone was plugged in next to the lump on the bed, a squadron of useless alarms waiting to try their hand at their fruitless endeavor.
Yes, everything was as it should be. The only thing wrong was Itadori Yuuji himself.
He was awake at the early hour, an anomaly in and of itself. It wasn't that he awoke naturally at such a time, but rather that his night was plagued by stilted micro-sleeps and he found himself gasping awake, yet again, unheard of for the boy whose death-like slumber was untouchable even by the King of Curses himself. Why?
His nose was stuffed. Stuffed and running, plugged up by ineffective bits of toilet paper, aching and twitching whenever he tried to breathe. His head was heavy and felt cluttered by cotton and pain, and his eyes were raw and teary.
Itadori Yuuji was sick. He hadn't been sick in years.
He tried to push himself up. His arms wavered, shaking with exertion, and the room began to swim. He collapsed into the pillow.
Yeah, nope. Not happening.
"This sucks," he mumbled into the pillow.
It was no natural affliction. He'd thought they'd escaped the mission in the hopsital relatively unscathed, but it seemed like he brought some sickly tinge of a head-cold curse back home with him. There was no way he was getting out of bed, let alone making it to training grounds today. Gojo would understand, surely.
"Yuuuuu—ji!" There was a persistent knock at his door. "Wakey-wakey!"
Or not.
Yuuji groaned, turning over to the other side of the bed, only to hiss when the blinding rays of the sun shot into his eyes.
"Hah, knew you were awake. C'mon, up and at 'em, kiddo."
"Senseeei, I'm dying," Yuuji whined into the pillow. A tad muffled, maybe, but there was no way Gojo wouldn't hear him, since he apparently heard everything.
"No, you're not," Gojo said. "I've seen you dead, and this isn't it."
Yuuji made another wordless noise of complaint.
"What was that?"
"Dead and buried," Yuuji grumbled.
There was no reply, and Yuuji glanced at the door, wondering if he'd actually gone away. Then, he heard a sniff. Then another. And another.
A thunk at the door, and Yuuji could practically see Gojo pressed up against it like a weepy maiden, arm thrown over his eyes and crocodile tears streaming from his blindfold.
"I go to all this trouble to prepare a special surprise, and you—" Gojo gasped,"—you say you don't want it?" His sensei's voice was watery and cracking, accompanied by exaggerated hitches of his breath. Yuuji fought a groan. "How did I raise such a cruel, cruel student?"
But something he said did catch his attention. Yuuji raised his head incrementally until it was just above the pillow and he eyed the dark wood of the door mulishly.
"…What surprise?" Yuuji muttered.
"Well, my dear Yuuji," Gojo hummed, his voice suddenly clear with without any indication of his prior dramatics, "I'm afraid that telling you kind of ruins the surprise part of it, heh. You have to see for yourself."
He threw the blanket over his aching head and burrowed back into his bed. Not worth it.
Gojo sighed. "Fine, fine. Ignore me. Try and go back to sleep, and don't think about what exactly was so important that Sensei himself came to get you…" As he spoke, his voice grew fainter and fainter, like he was moving away from the door and his words were dragging along with him, until they disappeared altogether.
Finally. Blessed, sweet silence.
…
"And don't think about how you're totally missing out…"
…
"And how much fun we'll have without you…"
…
"And—"
"Alright, alright!" Yuuji groaned loud enough to drown out Gojo's shouted whispers. "I'm coming, jeez."
"Yay!" Gojo clapped. "That's my boy!"
Yuuji blinked absently, his mind a second behind the rest of him. While he'd been dealing with Gojo, his symptoms had taken to the back burner, but abruptly, the uncomfortable warmth had returned. He rubbed his face with a sigh, trying to clear his flush.
"Gimmie ten minutes."
"If you make it five, I'll save you an anpan."
Yuuji perked up.
It was barely enough incentive to wrench himself from the confines of his cozy, enticing bed, calling to him with the last vestiges of his scent. He must have been really out of it; his own scent never much held much appeal, except for...
Yuuji grimaced, revulsion heavy in his gut. He left everything where it was.
His routine was a glacial, bastardized version of itself, where all he managed was sluggishly throwing on his clothes and smacking on his scent patches to banish the remnant of ripened peach and crisp raspberry. As he went, he heard he faint sound of Gojo giving the same spiel to Fushiguro next door, and his irritable, low-voiced replies. By the sound of it, Yuuji hadn't been the only one knocked on his ass by that mission. Small mercies.
It must be one hell of a surprise if Gojo was gathering them before even Fushiguro was up.
The only diversion to Yuuji's routine was the addition of a fever-reducer along along with his daily supressant. It'd have to be enough.
When Yuuji stumbled out of his room, Fushiguro was already waiting for him. He seemed as tired as Yuuji felt, if not worse, with the thick, dark smudges under his eyes and looking paler than usual. Yuuji felt the strange urge to push him back into bed.
Instead, he croaked, "You look like shit, dude."
"Rich, coming from you," Fushiguro rolled his eyes. "Why are you even up?"
"Anpan," Yuuji said offhandedly, following Fushiguro's gaze to where Gojo was heading in the direction of the field, whistling with a skip in his step.
"He acts like he wasn't the one that sent us on that damn mission in the first place," Fushiguro grumbled. He turned back to Yuuji with a shake of his head. "Come on, before he comes back to bother us again."
Without thinking, Yuuji's eyes fluttered shut and he raised his arms loosely, hands opening and closing in a grabbing motion.
"Carry me," Yuuji whined. Maladies made for a needy Yuuji, it seemed.
Fushiguro's face flattened. "Absolutely not."
He scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh. He watched Yuuji from the corner of his eye, the little green blur roving over him, calculating and assessing. It made Yuuji squirm. What was he, a bug under a microscope?
"Listen, I—ugh. How do you feel? Are you really okay?"
"I mean, yeah," Yuuji shrugged. "Yesterday was annoying, but I'm alive." He raised his arms in a what can you do? kind of stance.
"You don't have to do what that guy says. If it really is bad, you should rest."
Yuuji snickered. "If I do, will you get me anpan?"
Fushiguro's face went back to its usual blank slate. He shoved his hands and his pockets and scoffed, turning to the end of the walkway.
"I guess if you're well enough to be stupid, you're well enough to train."
"You should know what it's like," Yuuji snorted, before he paused, looking over Fushiguro in an assessment of his own. "Haven't you got it, too?"
Fushiguro turned away. "…No. Couldn't sleep."
"O—kaaay," Yuuji said. Part of him itched at leaving Fushiguro to fester, but he seemed to be in one of his moods, and Yuuji wasn't too keen on adding shikigami chewtoy to his list of titles. "If you get worse, though, tell me. I'll lug you back."
"Says the guy who asked me to carry him two minutes ago."
They wandered to the field, snipping at each other the whole way, but they found it void of any students or senseis. Yuuji peered around suspiciously, half-convinced Gojo decided to prank them, until Fushiguro gripped his jaw and turned his head toward the direction of the forest, the very same that had been utilized for the Exchange. Against the foliage, he could see the large, hulking form of Panda, Gojo's shock of white hair stark against the backdrop, and the smaller forms of what he assumed to be Maki, Inumaki, and Kugisaki. Everyone was present. How unusual.
"Maybe Sensei was serious," Yuuji mused. Fushiguro clicked his teeth.
"Or he's just being dramatic." With that, he grabbed Yuuji by his sleeve and dragged him over to where everyone was waiting for them. Everyone besides Maki seemed to be in similar state of sleepiness, where they found Inumaki blinking blearily at the emergent sun beginning to clear the top of the forest, while Panda and Kugisaki practically dozed where they stood.
The first thing Yuuji did was was beeline straight to Gojo, who had no right to look as chipper as he did at the ungodly hour, and he thrust out his arm, tapping his palm with an expectant look. His sensei raised his hand, and just as Yuuji expected the crinkle of plastic-wrapped bready goodness to fall into his hand, Gojo clicked something in his palm with a mournful sigh. A timer.
"Eight minutes," he said. "Better luck next time, hm?"
Yuuji stared at blankly at the timer. His eyes roved over the black piece of fabric, the impish smile and his sensei's flighty little wave. Then he turned on his heel and started shuffling away.
"Wait, wait, don't go! Come on, you're already here—heeeey, listen, I'm sorry, I'll get you a treat after training, okay?"
He stopped. He glared at Gojo over his shoulder.
"Your word is meaningless."
Gojo shivered dramatically. "Yeesh. Somebody's cranky," he muttered before not-so-gently steering his student back toward the group, where Fushiguro and Kugisaki greeted him with empty stares of their own.
"All that for nothing," he sighed, leaning back against Fushiguro. He was rather warm. It was a relief from the early morning chill. Unconsciously, his head tipped back, seeking the fleeting scent of cedar and pear he'd sometimes caught before Fushiguro had a chance to patch up.
Then, he realized what he was doing, and Yuuji scrunched up his nose. Where'd that come from?
"Fix your face," Kugisaki snipped. "I'm getting annoyed just looking at you."
"I can't help it, I'm infirmed."
"Can't believe you know that word," she sniffed. "You're not special, we're all suffering."
"Yeah, but I'm dying," Yuuji said, adding a sniffle for good measure.
"Mustard leaf?" Inumaki chimed in, joining their irritable little trio with a rub to his eyes. Panda wasn't far behind, ambling along before he fell into a lazy sprawl on the grass.
"We were dealing with a 3rd grade at a hospital yesterday. Wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but one of those little shits hit me right in the face with some nasty mucus attack." As he spoke, Kugisaki gagged, giving him a wide berth, and Fushiguro ever so sneakily detached Yuuji from his person. Traitors.
Inumaki patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Spicy cod roe."
"Thanks, man," Yuuji sniffed. At least someone was sympathetic to his plight.
"That's happened to Maki-chan, too," Panda added, his voice wispy. "She's a little more suspectible to this kind of thing—"
A foot on his snout pressed his jaw down, cutting off his words with a click. Maki towered over him, her figure imposing.
"Oi. Stop blabbing other people's business," she hissed. She hid it well, with her alert eyes and upright demeanor, but it was clear she was just as crabby as the rest of them.
"Everyone, settle down. No dismemberment before noon!" Gojo called. Perhaps not the wisest course of action, since it made himself the sole focus of six irritable, potentially deadly adolescents, but when was their teacher ever concered with something as silly as consequences?
"Thank you all for coming so early, your presence is much appreciated. I appreciate you all even more for waiting just a bit longer for your surprise—"
A chorus of groans cut him off.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Oh my god, why are we even here."
"Come on!"
"Caviar!"
Gojo cleared his throat obnoxiously loud until it drowned out the students' complaining.
"Ahem. As I was saying, thank you for your patience."
Kugisaki's glare was glacial. "Easy to say when you're not the one getting woken at the ass-crack of dawn."
"Oh, I haven't slept," Gojo chuckled. "Do as I say, not as I do, kiddies. Now, time for today's lesson!"
Gojo rifled around into his pockets, before he yanked out what looked to be a thin string with a colored patch attached. He kept tugging, each pull bringing forth more string and more fabric. It reminded Yuuji of a clown pulling an endless stream of handkerchiefs from thin air.
Gojo dropped the pile to the grass, holding up one of the strings between two fingers with a grin.
They were… Flags?
"First, let me congratulate you all again for your effort during Goodwill Event, on both days. You all did great and I'm very proud of you," Gojo said, his smile soft. "One critique, though. Those Kyoto bums found you waaay too easy," he sighed, ducking his head.
Fushiguro interrupted, "Those were extenuating circumstances. They were all targeting Itadori deliberately."
"Of course, of course. But isn't that what happens during missions, anyway?" Their teacher waved the stringed flag in his hand. "Curses aren't going to give you the courtesy of escape. You should know that well, Megumi, Toge," he nodded toward those two.
Ah, so it was more about the special-grade than the Kyoto students. That made sense.
"You did good, but there's room for improvement. Now, this isn't me telling you to run from a fight, but there's a lot of value in knowing how and when to get the hell out of dodge, and what you can do to avoid those situations in the first place. So, today's all about the essentials of stealth, evasion, and escape. You know what that means?"
A series of blank stares was the only answer they could provide. Except—
"Tag, sensei."
The calm, quiet voice matched none of his classmates'. It came from right behind Yuuji.
His skin prickled. Unease crept over him as he felt the shift of the presence behind him, the exhale of its breath across his nape. Gojo's distant cry of suprise! fell on deaf ears as Yuuji turned—
—and fell into two cavernous black holes.
Yuuji stared. A boy of no discernable scent, an abundance of cursed energy he hadn't noticed, and a completely unfamiliar face, nothing he'd ever seen before. He'd known if he had, because otherwise, mere glimpse of those eyes would have sent him running. Too late; now, he was trapped, that stare pulling him under the waves of the night sea. The darkness of it was blinding, the crushing weight of the water culling his resistance while it seeped through his every orifice and flooded his lungs.
He gazed into the abyss, and the abyss gazed back.
The hold was broken by his classmates swarming the newcomer. Yuuji exhaled shakily, the oxygen a relief to his lungs.
A cacophany of noise, something that sounded like an amalgamation of Yuuta—kelp—bastard—was lost in the scuffle as Inumaki tackled him, Maki pulled on his ear, and once stabilized, Panda surrounded them all in a great, big, fluffy embrace. Behind him, Yuuji heard Fushiguro shift toward the pile.
"Okkotsu-senpai," he acknowledged with an incline of his head. Yuuji and Kugisaki stared at one another, baffled. Gojo looked on with an indulgent smile before plopping his arms over their shoulders, inclining his head towards the second years.
"For the unitiated, that right there is your long lost, never-before-seen senpai, Okkotsu—ah, wait, no, Megumi's already met him, hasn't he… Well, whatever. Yuuta!" Gojo called. "Say hi to the firsties!"
"Oh, uh, hello!" Okkotsu gave a meek little wave from where he was trapped in Maki's headlock. It really dampened the wave of awestruck fear his inital appearance had wrought, but a small, primal part of Yuuji still quivered.
"So? Thoughts?"
"He's..." Yuuji struggled for a polite word. "Intense?"
Fushiguro snorted. "Creepy."
Meanwhile, Kugisaki was muttering to herself.
"Okkotsu, Okkotsu… Okkotsu. Oh my god, Okkotsu! You! You're the reason I didn't get to go to Kyoto! Get over here, you creep!"
Okkotsu let out a girlish scream as soon as Kugisaki jumped into the fray, slamming feet-first into his chest.
Gojo visibly winced. "Ouch."
Talk about an aura-killer.
Once Okkotsu was rescued (mostly) intact, he took his place next to Gojo with a breathless smile. Flushed with exertion and hair a mess, Yuuji almost couldn't recognize the threat of ten minutes ago. It was even harder to reconcile this kid with the one who'd apparently swept the floor with Kyoto last year. Yuuji wondered if he had a twin.
"So, now you've met Nobara—just a peach, isn't she— and you remember Megumi, I assume... Ah, right, and that last one there is Yuuji."
"Nice to meet you, Itadori-kun." Okkotsu inclined his head. His smile was a little strange, but not unkind.
"Uh, yeah. Ditto."
Well, the second-years seemed fond of him. He trusted their judgement, if nothing else.
"He'll only be here a couple days, so enjoy him while you can," Gojo snickered. Quietly, Okkotsu began distributing the stringed flags—one for everyone.
"Tuna mayo?" Inumaki frowned.
"Ah, no, no, I'm only stopping in for a status update, then I'll be off again."
Gojo cut in, "But in the meantime, he's graciously agreed to assist Sensei with your training exercise."
They all sighed. They'd hoped he'd forgotton about that.
"Like Yuuta said, you'll be playing tag, and he's going to be 'it.'"
So focused on Gojo and Okkotsu, the first years didn't see how their seniors paled.
"Tie your flag however you want—wrist, ankle, waist, wherever—as long as it's somewhere you won't lose it. If Yuuta manages to take it, you're out, but if at least one person can make it to five minutes without being caught, you guys win."
Kugisaki cracked her neck, shaking off the last vestiges of sleepiness. "Techniques?"
"Not for this round. This first one is all you."
"Five minutes. Tch. You know that's not fair at all." How odd. Maki wasn't usually the type to complain about fairness or any thing like that. Still, she wasn't wrong.
"Yeah, that really isn't a whole lot of time to work with," Yuuji said, eyeing Okkotsu and feeling a bit guilty. Fushiguro had said it himself: techniques aside, virtually no one could outpace Yuuji. He wouldn't even be winded after ten.
Gojo laughed. "No, it's not, is it?"
The second years glanced at each other. Yuuji felt like he was missing something.
"In that case, how about a little extra incentive? Let's see…" Gojo tapped his chin pensively, before snapping abruptly. "Oh, I've got it! Anyone who makes it to five minutes will earn a special favor from yours truly. Anything your little heart desires."
Yuuji stood up straighter. "Anything?"
"Anything—"
Before Gojo had a chance to finish, Yuuji was off like a shot. He could hear the flurry of curses Kugisaki hurled after him after he practically bowled her over, the sounds of his classmates following his lead, a laugh, and distantly, the beginning of Okkotsu's count-down.
If 'anything' meant he could do something about his abysmal physics grade, he'd take it. He didn't trudge through the morning feeling like total shit to be daunted by something as measly as five minutes.
Five minutes was nothing.
It hadn't even been three and Okkotsu was hot on heels.
The first minute, Panda and Kugisaki were down. Fushiguro and Inumaki were next. Then, all that was left as the timer ticked to three was Yuuji and Maki, running parallel through the wood. When the impending thunder of Okkotsu's footfalls came upon them, Yuuji figured he was done for; between Maki's elegant stride, leaping and bounding with ease, and his own tendency to stagger like a gorilla in roller skates (Kugisaki's words, not his), it was clear who the easier target was. Yet, by some stroke of luck, he heard Maki's indignant shout preceding the crash of a scuffle behind him. With a silent apology and a thank you for her sacrifice, he darted further into the trees.
If only he'd known how brief his respite would be. Not even ten seconds later, Okkotsu was gaining.
His mouth set in a grim line. If even Maki was floored, what were his chances?
Low. Abysmally low, if the sound of broken branches and disruption of the dirt behind him were any indication.
Well. He didn't have to win; he just had to last.
With that in mind, Yuuji created as much destruction in his wake as he could. Each large rock he clambered over was sent careening down the path behind him. He broke every branch he encountered, littering them as densely as possible in his trail. A well-timed kick to a trunk sent a sea of leaves cascading down, obstructing his fleeing form.
His pursuer was completely unencumbered. Rocks easily sidestepped. Branches cleared by a nimble feet that barely touched the ground. Leaves blasted aside with a single stride through their abundance. Okkotsu moved with a grace and poise Yuuji hadn't seen in anyone other than his sensei. Who the hell was this guy?
At the peak of his desperation, Yuuji threw his fist into the nearest tree with all the raw force he could muster. A sickening crack broke through the wood, and one last thrust of his hand sent it crashing down, straight into Okkotsu's path.
Empty eyes watched it descend. Then, with a effortless leap, Okkotsu cleared the tree length-wise like it was nothing, soaring up over the branches. For a single moment he stayed aloft, the sun blotting out his perfect form. The next, he was sliding down the other side of the falling trunk, depositing him right in front of Yuuji's shellshocked form. The tree finally hit the ground behind him with an Earth-shaking boom.
Yuuji gaped. He turned to run.
A tight grip on the back of his uniform jacket stalled him.
"Got you," Okkotsu trilled.
Yuuji yanked at the button holding his uniform closed. The instant it grew slack, he slid out of it with a speed rivaling Okkotsu's, leaving his senior holding nothing but the fabric in his hand. Those voids settled on Yuuji, moving searchingly over his body until they spied the splash of color peeking from his neckline. Yuuji grinned, tucking the flag further down his shirt.
"Not just yet, senpai."
Okkotsu blinked. Then, his eyes creased in a smile.
Before he could make the next move, Yuuji dashed forward, sending a kick to his senpai's head. Okkotsu jerked back just in time, staring skyward as Yuuji's foot flew past his face. He took advantage and got a single lucky hit to the ribs before Okkotsu jumped back with a cough. But Yuuji didn't let up; a flurry of quick jabs kept Okkotsu ducking and weaving without a chance to strike back. Keeping him on the defensive was the best shot he had at running down the clock.
At least until Okkotsu decided to stop indulging him.
Okkotsu dodged neatly under Yuuji's next punch, but he didn't recover. Before Yuuji realized what was going on, the second year had already dropped low to the ground, leg moving into a sweeping arc underneath Yuuji. His legs buckled under him, sending him crashing to the forest floor.
His saving grace was instinct. As his back hit the dirt, air forced from lungs, his eyes fluttered open to see Okkotsu descending.
They were coming. Twin blacks holes, star-eaters and sun-swallowers, obliterating the galaxies and nebulas in their way, the whole span of the heavens nothing but a meal to consume. And they were going to devour Yuuji next.
Escape.
His body moved before his mind, rolling before his those eyes could pin him.
His prey instinct, the insubstantial, wispy little part of him that went unheard for years, took the helm. It carried him from Okkotsu's grasping hands and back through the wood, heedless of any further stalling, no sense or direction. All that mattered was escape.
Further and further he went. While he was no paragon of grace before, he might as well have been compared to what he was reduced to now, a frantic, desperate, little creature concerned with nothing but the closing distance between him and Okkotsu.
Go, go, go.
A woosh of air behind him. The rustle of his shirt. Yuuji panicked.
Mid-stride, he jumped. His hands closed tight around a sturdy branch. The momentum propelled his body around it in a full circle, and Yuuji slammed his feet into Okkotsu's back on the descent. His senpai crashed face forward into the ground with a small cry, and Yuuji didn't stop to look. He stumbled past, further into the wood, moving as if carried by the wind.
Something almost stopped him. A sound. All Yuuji could risk was a glance backward.
It was the shift of Okkotsu sitting up, his face split in a wide grin.
"Haha!"
Holy shit. This kid was nuts.
Yuuji was off again. Okkotsu didn't follow.
It seemed he was granted yet another reprieve while his senpai collected himself. It was a good opportunity to let his breathing return from the panting it had devolved into and his heart rate settle from the rampnat buzz in his chest… Or at least, as much as they could while Yuuji sprinted as far as his body would take him. Still, it was a double-edged sword; as the adrenaline faded, so too did the tenuous resistance he had built to the bone-deep weariness of the early morning.
He groaned. Not this again.
His eyes felt misty and hazy, like he stumbled through a field of a pollen, and everything felt itchy. Ugh. Maybe not pollen; more like poison ivy or something.
The worst were his patches. The stupid flag chafed against the ones on his neck, and the ones on his wrists itched like hell, having brushed against his sides so often in his mad dash for freedom. The adhesive had lifted a bit, and each brush had the edges fluttering against his glands in the most annoying manner.
With a frustrated growl, Yuuji ripped one of them off. He cared little about the thick waft of peach; it was only a matter of time before Okkotsu found him anyway, regardless of whether his scent clung to him or not.
But... Maybe it could mislead him.
An idea struck.
Before he could reconsider, the boy peeled the other patch on his wrist with a wince. Each one found itself wrapped tight around a twig, the sticky residue of leftover adhesive keeping them in place. Decoy in hand, Yuuji wound his arm back and launched it as far into the distance as he could manage. The same went for the other one in the complete opposite direction. Finally, he dusted off his hands and then shoved them deep into his pockets. Hopefully, the thick material his uniform would obscure them, at least a little.
He'd take a one in three chance over a sure loss.
From there, stealth was the name of the game. Yuuji crept through the forest, avoiding the mud and shallow piles of dirt in favor of smooth rocks and tree roots, cognizant of any rustle of leaves and each snapped twig underfoot. A bird fluttering off it branch nearly made him yelp, if not for the hand he clamped tight over his mouth.
Okkotsu still did not appear. He did not, but Yuuji's vision grew hazier and hazier. He blinked the mist from his eyes, but his vision still doubled, the trees dancing before his eyes.
Shit.
His steps grew less careful. He stumbled more than once. His battle shifted from a battle of wits to a battle with gravity, with how much of a task it became to keep himself upright. He might have collapsed entirely, were it not for the large slab of rock he stumbled into.
Yuuji stared, his gaze moving upward, barely comprehending the large rocky outcrop that had manifested before his eyes.
He stumbled into it, using its rough surface to support himself. He moved along its exterior until there was a void under his hand where more rock should have been. In its place was a small crevice hidden under an overhang of stone, hidden in shadow, and just big enough for one Itadori Yuuji to squeeze comfortably into.
He's not sure how long passed; it could have been a minute, it could have been ten. Maybe thirty seconds. Maybe eighty. It didn't matter, anyway. The haze lulled him into something fuzzy, scrambling his perception and leaving him to drift closer to the sweet oblivion of sleep. It was only the faint thrum of anxiety that kept him on the precipice of his consciousness, a single ear tuned for whatever had kept him running. But faint was an understatement; he was too tired to care. Too tired. Too itchy. Too warm.
Warm, like the bit of sun that shone on his crevice, finding his already heated skin. Warmth that was lost as the light disappeared.
Yuuji opened his eyes. Okkotsu smiled down at him.
Something touched his jaw. He leant into it, giving in to the gentle pressure that turned it to the side. He nearly hissed when something grazed against his neck, the irritated skin flaring up around his patches. His eyes fell downward; it was Okkotsu's wrist.
His empty wrist. It seemed like Okkotsu was the type who was partial to salves and deoderants over patches. But everyone knew they weren't as effective, especially not after the immense exertion of chasing down a whole class of students.
Yuuji couldn't help himself. He inhaled, deep.
Something… Dewy? Fresh, for sure, but he couldn't pin point it exactly without another whiff. He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing the skin, breathing in—
And Okkotsu pulled his hand away.
Yuuji swallowed the whine building in his throat. Okkotsu, for his part, didn't seem to notice. He was too occupied with the string and fabric in his hand.
"Tag," he whispered.
Oh, right. That. Yuuji slumped with a sigh.
"You did well, Itadori-kun. It was a good plan," Okkotsu said, holding up two sticks. His discarded patches were still wound tight around them. "It might've worked on anyone else except me."
Yuuji frowned. He tried to follow the words, but his thoughts scattered like salt in water. "Except… you?"
Okkotsu tapped his the side of nose.
"You know how we're similar?" No, Yuuji did not. "Well, that makes me more attuned to your type of scent than anyone else. I can tell the real from the fake easily."
He barely listened to Okkotsu, the lull of sleep calling for him once again. But Okkotsu kept talking, anyway.
"—really though, I don't know what Gojo-sensei was thinking, making you train when you're so close to pre-heat—"
Yuuji startled.
"—ah, totally forgot to check the time, huh... seven-oh-three—"
Close to… What?
"—I guess you can get your favor after all, Itadori-kun!"
Yuuji stared up at Okkotsu, eyes unseeing.
"H—Heat?" he whispered. Okkotsu stared back, brows furrowed.
"You didn't know?"
"But I… I'm on… Suppressants..." Yuuji slurred, only catching a brief look at Okkotsu's widened eyes before he fell forward.
Distantly, he realized he had not hit the ground; two strong supports kept his torso upright, and then tugged his limp body from the crevice.
Then he was enveloped in warmth. Something sturdy kept his back stable, as well as under his knees… And a solid wall of heat to lean against.
Instinct guided Yuuji's head forward, ignorant of the soft exhale above him as he chased the fresh, dewy scent that had eluded him.
He inhaled.
Jasmine. It was jasmine.