densecloud

>;     Whether minute or not, making bad decisions has been an integral aspect of Takayuki’s life, and it doesn’t help that he is neither a feisty nor an ambitious individual. Two supposedly mutually exclusive characteristics intertwine like fine threads, crafting his personality at a young age, though the regret is an unwanted extra that haunts his nights and time spent alone. Missing out on opportunities is part and parcel of his youth, leaving him to his own devices while making do with the happenings of fate. As simple as moving on without having too much thought about it. Thankfully, life gets a little easier to navigate as he grew older, as well as grew to pursue the passions he always had. Serene weekends at the café, spearheading public relations projects for Igarashi... The neglected heart of his rejoices at every venture he takes. 

Just like old age, regrets always find their way to him and found him once again upon hitting the bed last night. Feeling the physical toll from intensively reading the new release at the store yesterday, Takayuki tosses and turns in the break room, desperate for a quick wink that refuses to settle in. (And unbeknownst to your knowledge, he did not notice you nor a single being at the bookstore, especially not at a crucial moment of giving all his undivided attention into Igarashi’s new novel.) 

...I’ll just grab a coffee.

There’s a particular situation that has been resting lightly on his heart for so long that it almost slipped away with time, allowing Takayuki to move on as he had intended after accepting fate. Actually, a particular person who makes him wonder if things could go differently, should he have taken the initiative ages ago. To be fair, he was always on the more reserved side through his formative years, leaving hardly any courage for younger Takayuki to have struck a conversation with you — however, he admits that hardly anything has changed upon recognising an older [Name], just seated just a few tables away.

“May I have your order?”

“Oh, uh, I’ll get an iced Americano. Thanks.” Astonishing, really. Things were supposed to be done there and then, right before the end of high school. 

Futile were his attempts to fold a paper crane out of the absurdly long receipt and sort out his thoughts, as he takes all the possible chances to steal glances towards your way. Perhaps it was another opportunity presented by fate, for him to approach you like how he was meant to before your paths diverged. Perhaps, he could fold another paper crane just like the perfect one he has hidden in his bedroom drawers, though he laments the fact that his fingers aren’t as nimble as before. Regardless, it begs the question: how would you react to his small acts to approach you? Takayuki can only wish for the answer that he missed out on during his high school graduation, and pin his hopes on an optimistic outcome. “Iced Americano for Takayuki-san!” 

“Thank you... also, do you have a pen?”

>;     Perfection.

You cannot be any happier, you think, when it’s a Friday afternoon and the newly opened café along the neighbourhood serves excellent coffee... and not to mention, the lack of a crowd in the vicinity. Everything is falling into place, and you can feel it — warm rays of sun on your skin, work being done remotely, no superior to loom over your shoulder as the clock ticks. Asking for more would be too good to be true, and this is enough for your peaceful afternoon alone. The only thing you nitpick on is the dazzling brightness of the summer sun that not even the café could prevent, but a few curtains should do the trick...

“Maybe I’ll sit somewhere else next time,” you sigh, rubbing weary eyes after hours on the laptop, “huh?”

“Hey, um... do you remember me, [Name]-san?” 

Yep, it’s too good to be true. “...Takayuki Mima. It’s, it’s alright if you don’t recognise me though.”

“Of course I do! Ah, wait! I mean, I remember you from high school... sorry if that sounded weird.” It’s been a long time since you’ve observed him on the daily, but witnessing him crack up a smile makes you lose all reason for a moment. “Haha, then I’m glad you do.”

“Wo-would you like to take a seat?”

“Hmm.” Takayuki takes a peek at his phone. “I’d love to join you, but my break is ending soon,” he slides a napkin over, “maybe this will make do, for us to catch up a little.”

Contentment is great tasting coffee and a productive work setting that you’ve chanced upon, though this encounter has tipped the scales too much for your delicate heart. Contentment was all you had since last night, and only after hours of convincing yourself of the coincidence of seeing Takayuki at the bookstore. Well, of course, you knew that this afternoon felt too perfect, for you to have probably mistaken him for the sunshine, looking much brighter in a flannel rather than full office wear just yesterday... however you’re left stupefied with the napkin in your hands and the delicate handwriting of his.

For now, contentment is a thing of the past, and you grapple with the idea of being overjoyed till your heart feels like it’s about to explode. 

He looked kinda shy. When he tried to pass it to me. You’re unable to contain the grin stretching from ear to ear, but at least you’re calmer than hours ago. You’re getting there. Breaking out sweat from climbing sets of stairs and a click of the door knob brings you back to your sanctuary, and a gulp of iced tea from the refrigerator tries to bring you back to your senses. Yet, still not enough when your phone buzzes from a shopping app notification.

Conversations in the past were always in passing, but... it’s as if he was prepared for this encounter, and he wanted it to happen too. Again, he looks good in glasses. And that flannel. To think about it, you wouldn’t mind it yourself to see him again... however, that takes another couple of hours before you could act on it at all.

“...it’s me, [Name]. About your note...”

His keyboard meets specks of red, a familiar substance he created way before working hours, and a saucer of sorts holding a stapler that someone had clearly jellified. “Bon appetit?”

“It’s not even April Fools,” your fist hits the monstrosity that he’s created, momentarily wishing it was his face, “and I have papers to prepare! Also, wipe that grin off your face before I smother it with this breakfast you’ve created!”

“Hey, hey,” he surrenders, both hands up and beads of sweat rolling down his temple, muttering ‘give me a bit’, then sticking an entire arm into one of his ever clogged drawers filled with trinkets and things confiscated permanently from his students (and for his own amusement). “Lucky for you, I’ve got a new stapler! Look, it’s shaped like a duck,” Gojo hovers it around your face airplane style, “say good morning to Ducky-chan! Isn’t this buddy cute?” 

Ducky-chan? Cute? You would rather sell your soul for this thing than the lowest of the low stapler that the school had to offer. You cannot wrap your head around how he’s got such an excellent eye for this procuring adorable things — thankfully you are accepting of adorable things, so Ducky-chan’s beady eyes will be an apology you will accept. “I suppose this will suffice,” you hesitantly leave your palm out to receive his gift. 

“Oh? Quack, quack. Oh my,” he coos, pressing on its beak to release more Gojo-made quacks, “but I think Ducky-chan wants to stay with me.”

“Alright, I’ll be taking your beloved away,” you attempt to break the duck from his grasp, but his devastatingly long and gangly limbs just get the better of you. “Please... I need to get back to these papers —”

“I have one condition.”

“Spill it.”

“Give me some of your time this evening?”

“Isn’t this...”

“A date?” Gojo scratches the back of his head, sheepishly avoiding your gaze despite his eyes being hidden from the blindfold. A breath of relief, you assume, as if he’d been keeping this wish hidden for quite some time. “...yes.” You raise a brow, pondering over the age old question, “and this is not a prank, I promise,” he speaks with fortitude, or rather a determination he’s taken much effort to muster. His chest is heavy, fingers fiddling tensely with the stapler while awaiting your answer. The boisterous buffoon turns uncharacteristically mousy and slightly blushy... and it scares you quite a bit.

Gojo must be contagious, because you’ve become a blushing mouse yourself. 

You’ve once wondered while seated right at the back of the classroom about ten years ago, if that comical demeanour he holds constant was ever the true Gojo Satoru. Is the pride of the Gojo Family as one dimensional as he portrays himself, or is there much more to him? You would love to know, but the man who has always been out of reach, physically or emotionally, suddenly reveals an awkward side of himself that makes him all the more blindingly attractive. And sure, you’re a cranky old person now, but it’s sensational to have not just anyone but him ask you out, regardless of how he’s just jellified your stapler moments ago. 

Well, your curiosity has finally been satiated after ten years, but only for a moment. Two bashful adults stuck in their tracks, one overwhelmed by a pleasant surprise while the other feeds her curiosity for him. 

With the jester revealing his true colours to the queen, the queen craves for more to come. “...okay.”

    Awkwardness is a curse undoubtedly yours, latching onto him with all its might. The world works in mysterious ways, most of it caused by cursed spirits and such, but this is something even he cannot explain. Arrogance that usually brings him success somehow tried to dig his own grave, and each glance you send across carves a letter of his name in the tombstone. Never in his life would he expect Yuji’s confidence to surpass him, and to do so right in front of you, someone he barely knows, makes him shrivel up and retreat back to his chambers.

“You’re done eating?” Yuji asks. He doesn’t get a response except for the sound of running water, his gaze trailing Sukuna’s movements right till he’s out of sight. “Don’t mind him, [Name]-sensei.” You shake your head to brush it off. In fact, you were summoned just to check out how they’ve been cohabiting, and that would end up as another detail to be added in the report.

Although Ryomen Sukuna is disconnected from Itadori Yuji, the living environment appears to be peaceful and there is no sign of assault on each other. There comes the one-to-one sessions with both parties, and you take advantage of his unlocked door. The mighty Sukuna lies almost motionless on his bed, hands tucked under the pillows and a leg crossed above the other. Just like how a king should rest. 

At the sight of you, however, he goes into a foetal position. Possibly to avoid the weird, tugging feeling in his chest. A nice blanket fortunately covers his curious gaze.

Nobody can ever witness him all domesticated, let alone Itadori, so why are you being a bother?

Ryomen Sukuna is also an awkward guy.

    Pain is a stranger that only opens up to you. You... you must be an anomaly, one unafraid of death and smiles at such a vile thing. Sukuna applauds your effort to make conversation each time you’re around, be it for work or not. The halls are often filled with your laughter (and Yuji’s, to his annoyance), but they’re akin to music to his ears, though shrill cries in the late of the night are something he’s more accustomed to. Reluctantly, he figures he’ll excuse your chuckles and yours only.

“— Oh, good afternoon!” 

You’re suddenly obstructing the path to the pantry, even boldly sticking out a hand when he attempts to shrivel up and escape, “Yuji said he’ll get the TV set up... wanna join us for the match?” When you ask him with such ease and that grin on your face, it’s as if you’ve conquered Small Talk for Dummies. Unable to accept his initial cowardice, the previously puffed up Sukuna has taken weeks to make proper eye contact, let alone progress from silence to a comprehensible sentence.

You are unlike any other human, and he tries to make sense of it. Is this how you are in essence? How are you able to face apocalypse head-on, or even willing to invite him to such trivial activities? If the world was perfect, he’d be subjected to all sorts of pain for the school’s experimentation. Blood, flames, screams and him being the one suffering this time around — he imagines you with some modern torture device just designed for him and flashing an angelic grin before spurring those hands to his demise. At least it’d be the perfect ending to his stinging failure to conquer the world. 

Oddly, reality is far from his expectations and you’re holding onto some sort of blue device. Not meant for killing, to his knowledge, but for clicking and spurring excitement as he’s observed from Yuji before. 

While looking at you in the eye, he finally gives a firm ‘yes’ on a scorching hot day.  Sukuna adores things that drives him insane, and infatuation gradually blossoms from his unhinged curiosity. Nobody is going to answer his questions, so he begins his quest on finding them one by one. 

“Sounds good.” 

A couple of Sundays later, one with the summer breeze drifting in as he remembers, Sukuna laughs along with you — specifically at your reaction to Yuji’s unimpressive defeat. That is when he realises how out of place you are, especially for being someone that he refuses to annihilate in an instant. In the many centuries he’s lived in, you are an anomaly to be treating him as human, simply because “it’s meaningless not to do so” despite “being nervous as hell from every interaction”.

“Thought you might be curious,” you speak gently while Yuji’s out running errands, as if knowing of his goals from the very start, “I just hope that we can get along better.” Like the sudden breeze seeping through the windowsill, Sukuna is... pleasantly surprised, at your confession. And with heat akin to the summer days, inner desire burns like a freshly struck flame. 

Anomaly or not, you have unknowingly sought for pain on that very Sunday. 

Just as how a human would every single time.

    Frustration tries to cope with your absence by bringing upon past madness, and melancholy comes by when you’re gone. It’s ridiculous how he’s been so reliant on your gummy smile for him to finally appreciate this horrendous apartment, and for you to be missing for two weeks in a row shortly after. Unlike his Malevolent Shrine, these concrete walls are almost suffocating and dull, even without the brat around. Taking a breather once in a while never hurts, but the halls feel so empty without your feather-like footsteps around. 

The blue controller that is unanimously yours lies lonely on the coffee table. He refuses to give it a glance, not without your fingers around it. 

You... you aren’t like everyone else, Sukuna is certain of it. You haven’t been away for weeks, and it’s not because you’re trying to get away from him. It’s your job and you’re supposed to keep regular checks on the both of them, yet  —   

“Yo. Are you... okay?” 

His door is slightly ajar, mostly surrounded by fear that the abnormally dispirited Sukuna would rip Yuji into shreds. Rash, aggressive, terribly cocky — but him being unnervingly docile during meals and hibernating more often does make Yuji wonder if he’s been conjuring an escape plan from these heavily protected walls... thus a few months of cohabiting have hardly eroded the boy’s anxiety around him, and less so when you’ve been away.

Exasperated, he sighs. “What do you want?”

“Uh... nothing much, just wanted to see how you’re doing. Sensei’s been asking.” He swears that Sukuna was buried under the sheets just a second ago, but all four eyes on his face are staring right through his soul. “[Name] asked about me?”

“Well yeah, technically, but how we were doing to be exact. I said I was alright, but for you... not so sure about that — ow! What the hell’s that for?”

“I’m slapping some sense into you, brat. You probably made her worried for nothing.” 

If he has a heart, he’s always wearing it on his sleeve, doesn’t he? After spending a substantial amount of time with Sukuna, he would know a thing or two about his character. The menace to humankind finds lying an utter waste of time, excluding half-truths — which are absolutely necessary to bait the gullible, such as Yuji himself. On the contrary, this compulsive truth-teller’s monk-like lifestyle does raise eyebrows, notably with your absence coinciding with it, but Yuji’s grateful for the lack of pompous tendencies. 

“It’s for you,” he slides a postcard in his hand. An ethereal sunset is painted in the background, and highlights of white housing that Santorini is known for. Finally, the postcard signs off with your initials. 

Yuji notices that his hair tends to flare up whenever he’s excited. 

“And you’re terribly obvious, do you know that?”

    Joy returns with open arms. Just another month, Sukuna recites like an oath right before drifting to slumber. 

“...not having a great time hunting cursed spirits here, but I hope to visit this place again with you and Yuji! I want to show you how beautiful the sunsets are in real life!”

You never fail to drive him insane, as you should, when he feels a delusional touch of warmth upon the touch of dried wood pulp. It’s the gorgeous sunset that drives him into a frenzy; he feels your imaginary embrace while dreaming of ending up in it as he sleeps. Ironically, his imagination hardly runs as wild while confined within his territory, but these four walls hardly appear as bad as it seems anymore. 

Instead of the thrill you bring, who knew that curses have become gradually irrelevant? Perhaps he should be known as the King of Daydreams instead. 

Yuji irks at the sudden spurge of life in him, as Sukuna expresses unhinged excitement in the form of continuous gaming and even offering to complete chores. Right, he must have a screw loose from the human ways of living, and this is his coping mechanism. The death lord Sukuna finally gives up on resisting and turns domesticated from Jujutsu Tech’s intense experiment, just like taming a tiger in a cage. This tiger dons an apron; instead of his appearance, Yuji is terrified with the improved standard of dishes as the weeks passed, and how there is barely a speck of dust in the house. 

You must have induced a remote curse in the postcard, because nothing is stopping this tiger from its pursuits — to prepare himself for your return, knowing well that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. When you’re back with bags of souvenirs and a dainty smile on your face, Sukuna realises his desire to hold you tight. To feel your warmth against him while you eventually wrap your arms around his waist. 

“I was about to initiate, but I realised that I was too shy five seconds ago,” you chuckle. “You must’ve missed me.”

He holds you a bit tighter. 

“Surprisingly,” his hand strokes your hair affectionately. “This house is cold without you.”

    He concludes that you must not be of this world as well. Made of flesh, he deduces after knowing of your family, and in possession of a delicate heart that bleeds and shines extrinsically. Fingers that quietly reach out for his. Tears from the death of your pet turtle. Falling of leaves in the park, then the heaviness of your lips. Constant tapping of your pen against the table, because marking papers is absolutely dreadful. How the corners of your eyes crinkle just from enjoying your favourite ice cream. 

Sukuna couldn’t be more certain that you were human. But with the simple act of placing his hand against your chest, you’ve offered your heart to him on a silver platter, causing his confirmations to waste away in an instant. 

“I’ll be in your hands,” you’re speaking softly, blood rushing to your cheeks. No human would ever make such an offer at the risk of danger and unpredictability, not even if they were offered a fortune for it. “Please take care of me.” 

He then devours your heart, downing it as if it were candy in his palm; finally claiming it while it replaces the void within his chest.

Again, what exactly are you (apart from being the love of his life)?