a/n: I did this for a friend once and I just had to make this😭 (also for the person that made a request last week… I’m sorry but I’m sick rn and nothing I write is good but I promise to upload it this weekend or next week!)
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❥ author’s note: i have been obsessing over this idea ever since i saw the tiktok that inspired it 😭 it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while, so i’m really happy to finally share it. enjoy!! ♡
Hiromi refuses to tell you anything useful about the man you’re meeting.
“He teaches,” he says as the two of you walk toward the bar.
“That narrows it down.”
“He understands defensive combat.”
“So does Maki.”
“He is considerably less likely to throw you through a wall.”
You glance at him. “That sounded less like a recommendation and more like a disclaimer.”
Hiromi’s mouth shifts at one corner. To anyone else it wouldn’t look like much. To you, it’s practically a grin.
“He’s experienced,” he says. “And practical.”
“Is that what you say about me when you introduce me to people?”
“No.”
“What do you say?”
He opens the door without answering.
Warm air spills out around you, carrying the low hum of conversation and the sharp, familiar smell of alcohol. The place is small and dim, wedged between a ramen shop and a convenience store. Nothing about it suggests that sorcerers meet here, which you assume is exactly why Hiromi chose it.
You step inside and look back at him. “That silence was concerning.”
“I doubt anything I could say would adequately prepare him for you.”
You stare at him. Hiromi walks past you toward the back of the bar.
“That was almost charming.”
“I didn’t intend it to be.”
“That’s usually when you’re most successful.”
He glances over his shoulder, and something in his expression briefly softens before he turns back toward the booth.
You follow him between the tables, trying not to smile too obviously. Lately, you’ve become too familiar with the tiny changes in his expression. The way his eyes narrow when he’s thinking through a problem. The way his jaw tightens when he’s angry but refuses to say it. The almost smile he tries to hide.
It started in conference rooms and courthouse hallways. You were the social worker explaining why a client missed treatment appointments or why a frightened teenager contradicted herself three times. Hiromi was the attorney who listened more closely than anyone else in the room. He never lost his composure, even when you could tell the system made him furious.
He’s still composed now, mostly. But somewhere between the legal briefs and the late nights spent looking at the same miserable case from two different angles, you started learning the things no one else seemed to notice. What he looks like when he can’t sleep. That he drinks his coffee black and leaves legal books open facedown, even though he insists it damages the spine. That he keeps painkillers in three different drawers because he never remembers where he put them. How to sit next to him when neither of you has anything useful to say.
And now you notice everything. The small changes no one else seems to catch. The way he looks a little less guarded when his eyes find you.
The man waiting at the back of the bar knows a completely different version of him.
He’s sitting in the corner of the booth with his jacket folded beside him and his tie already loosened. One arm stretches across the back of the seat. A beer sits in front of him, and he looks like he’s been waiting an hour instead of seven minutes.
He looks up when you approach. His eyes go to Hiromi first. “You’re late.”
“We are not.”
“You made me get here first. Same thing.”
Then he looks at you and pauses. Only for a second, but you notice. His gaze moves over your face, your coat, and the work clothes underneath before moving back to your eyes.
You suddenly wish Hiromi had given you a little more information. Like the fact that the mysterious combat instructor was broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and unfairly attractive in that tired, slightly disheveled way. You might have chosen a different blouse. Or checked the mirror at the train station, at least.
The man recovers first.
“So this is her.”
You glance at Hiromi. “That depends on what you told him.”
“Very little,” Hiromi says.
“Good,” the stranger says. “I’d rather make up my own mind.”
You slide into the booth across from him. “I’m starting to understand why Hiromi thought we’d get along.”
Hiromi sits beside you. “This is Atsuya Kusakabe.”
Kusakabe reaches across the table. His palm is rough when you take it, his grip is firm without becoming obnoxious.
You expect him to let go immediately. Instead, his thumb shifts once against the side of your hand before he releases you.
“You’re the one with the resonance technique.”
“And the sword.”
His gaze drops briefly to your hands. “You actually know how to use it?”
“I survived Tokyo No. 2.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
You turn toward Hiromi. He’s studying the menu like this conversation has nothing to do with him.
“You told him I couldn’t use a sword.”
“I told him you were self-taught.”
“That’s the polite version of the same sentence,” Kusakabe says.
You look back at him.
At first glance, there’s something almost lazy about him. His posture is loose, his tie is crooked, and his dark hair is slightly messy around his forehead.
Then you notice his eyes.
They stay alert while the rest of him looks half asleep, watching you with the same quiet attention experienced sorcerers give unfamiliar rooms.
It makes you sit a little straighter.
A server appears beside the table. You order a citrus sour. Hiromi asks for whiskey, and Kusakabe lifts his nearly empty glass.
“Another.”
The server leaves.
By the third drink, you’re not sure Kusakabe has actually agreed to anything.
“So are you training me or not?”
He looks up from the skewer he’s been picking apart. “One session.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“And after that?”
“I decide whether you’re a lost cause.”
You glance at Hiromi. “He’s very encouraging.”
“You wanted an answer.”
“I wanted a better one.”
Kusakabe looks at you for a moment, then takes another bite. “One session,” he repeats.
You laugh, mostly because the drinks are making it harder not to.
You aren’t drunk. Just warm enough that you stopped thinking about every little thing you do.
Which is probably why your knee is still pressed against Hiromi’s under the table. You noticed a while ago. Apparently, Kusakabe did too. His eyes dip for half a second before returning to your face.
“What did you do before all this?” Kusakabe asks.
“Social work.”
“That explains the arguing.”
You narrow your eyes. “You’ve known me for two hours.”
“Those two hours have been informative.”
“You were already drinking when we got here.”
“Not enough to miss the arguing.”
His eyes stay on yours for a second before you reach for your glass. Kusakabe watches you finish it, then looks at the empty glasses around the plates.
“How many is that?”
“Three.”
“Four,” Hiromi says.
“The first one barely counted.”
“It contained alcohol.”
“So does cough syrup.”
Kusakabe looks between you. “You always like this?”
“We aren’t arguing,” you say.
“We disagree frequently,” Hiromi says at the same time.
Kusakabe takes a drink, trying and failing to hide the curve of his mouth.
You point at him. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
The server comes back and asks if you want another round. You start to answer, but Hiromi gets there first.
“Water for her.”
You turn toward him. “I can order for myself.”
“You can.”
“I was going to.”
“You were going to order another sour.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You looked at your glass before you looked at her.”
Kusakabe settles back against the booth. “He does that a lot, doesn’t he?”
“You’re just as bad.”
“Probably.”
The server waits.
Kusakabe lifts two fingers. “Water for all of us. And the bill.”
You check the time on your phone.
“Oh.”
Hiromi looks over. “What?”
“I missed my train.”
“There’s another one,” Kusakabe says.
You turn the screen toward him. “Two transfers and half an hour standing around.”
His eyes drop to your heels. “In those?”
“I’ll survive.”
“That seems to be your answer to everything.”
“It’s worked so far.”
“Barely.”
Hiromi reaches for his jacket. “My apartment is close.”
You look at him. “I know.”
“You can stay there.”
He says it without hesitation. You’ve slept on his couch before. It shouldn’t feel any different now.
Except Kusakabe is sitting across from you, watching the two of you, and suddenly your face feels warm again.
You gather your coat from next to you. Kusakabe is still sitting across from you.
“So you meant it?”
He looks up. “Meant what?”
“The training.”
“I said one session.”
“You said it like you were being forced.”
“I was outnumbered.”
Hiromi slips into his jacket. “No one forced you.”
Kusakabe gives him a look. “You brought her here.”
“I’m sitting right here.”
“I know.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re already regretting it, aren’t you?”
“I’ll let you know after I see you with a sword.”
“That sounds optimistic.”
“It wasn’t meant to be encouraging.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Kusakabe finishes his water and stands.
“Where are you going?” Hiromi asks.
“Home.”
You try not to feel disappointed by how quickly he says it. Which is ridiculous. You just met him.
Kusakabe pulls on his jacket, then glances down at your heels. “Don’t wear those.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You wore them tonight.”
“I came from work.”
“Bring different shoes.”
“I own sneakers, Kusakabe.”
“Good. Wear them.”
You look toward the window. Rain is starting to run down the glass.
“You’re walking to the station in that?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No umbrella?”
“I didn’t bring one.”
“That seems poorly planned.”
“I wasn’t planning to stay this long.”
You look him over before you can stop yourself. “I guess you won’t melt.”
Kusakabe pauses while fixing his collar. Hiromi looks at you. Heat rises in your face.
“I meant because you’re a sorcerer.”
“Right,” Kusakabe says.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
Hiromi checks the time. “The entrance near here closes at midnight.”
Kusakabe looks at his phone. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“What about the other one?”
“Three blocks back.”
Kusakabe glances through the window.
“In the rain,” you add.
“I can see that.”
Hiromi lets out a quiet breath. “Come back with us. Have one more drink and wait for it to slow down.”
Kusakabe looks at him, then at you. You try not to look too pleased.
“One drink.”
“You said that earlier.”
“And yet here we are.”
Outside, the rain is colder than it looked through the glass.
You make it half a block before regretting your shoes completely. The pavement is slick, and every uneven patch sends another ache through the front of your feet.
Hiromi has slowed down to match your pace. He doesn’t mention it.
Kusakabe walks on your other side with his hands in his pockets. “You’re limping,” he says.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“She is,” Hiromi adds.
You look between them. “I liked it better when you disagreed.”
“We disagree about important things,” Kusakabe says. “This is obvious.”
“It’s one block.”
“It was two when we left.”
“Stop counting.”
A car takes the corner too quickly, sending water up from the curb. Kusakabe catches your arm and pulls you away before it can hit you. Your shoulder bumps against his chest, his hand still wrapped around your arm.
“You all right?”
You look up at him. He’s closer than he’s been all night. Close enough for you to see the tired shadows under his eyes and the faint stubble along his jaw.
“Yeah.”
His eyes dip toward your mouth. At least, you think they do. Maybe you’ve had more to drink than you realized.
Then Hiromi opens the door to his building, and Kusakabe lets go.
Inside, you press the elevator button and try not to notice his hand is gone.
The three of you wait under the lobby lights, damp from the rain and warm from the alcohol.
Kusakabe glances at your shoes. “How attached are you to those?”
“Emotionally?”
“Financially.”
“They were expensive.”
“That explains why you refuse to admit they’re hurting you.”
The elevator arrives. Hiromi steps in first. You follow, and Kusakabe comes in behind you. Somehow, you end up in the middle.
The doors close.
You catch the three of you in the mirror. Hiromi’s hair is damp and pushed back from his face. Kusakabe’s tie is loose, his jacket darkened at the shoulders.
They both look unfairly good. You look away immediately. Maybe you are a little tipsy.
The elevator starts moving, and Kusakabe’s arm brushes yours. Neither of you moves. Hiromi is close on your other side. Close enough that the back of his hand rests against yours when the elevator shifts again. You stare at the glowing numbers above the door.
Kusakabe glances down at you. “You’re very quiet all of a sudden.”
“I’m tired.”
“Right.”
You turn your head. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” His mouth moves slightly. Before you can press him, the doors open.
Hiromi’s apartment looks mostly the same as the last time you were here, except there are somehow more legal books stacked around the living room.
He takes your coat without asking. You bend down to undo your shoes. The first heel comes off, and the relief is so immediate that a small sound slips out of you.
The room goes quiet.
You close your eyes. “Neither of you heard that.”
“Of course not,” Hiromi says.
Kusakabe takes off his jacket. “Heard what?”
You look over your shoulder. They’re both trying not to smile.
“I changed my mind. You can leave.”
“After Higuruma promised me a drink?”
“He promised you one.”
“That’s enough.”
Hiromi heads into the kitchen while you carry your shoes to the couch. You drop onto it and pull one sore foot under you.
Kusakabe takes the armchair. He settles back and loosens his collar again. “So you figured out the sword thing on your own?”
You let your head fall against the couch. “Are you still thinking about that?”
“I agreed to train you. Unfortunately, that means I need to know what you’ve been doing.”
“Surviving.”
“That isn’t a fighting style.”
“It worked.”
“Barely, from what Higuruma told me.”
You look toward the kitchen. “What exactly did you tell him?”
Hiromi opens a cabinet. “The relevant parts.”
“The embarrassing parts, then.”
“Mostly.”
Kusakabe looks far too pleased by that.
You point at him. “You haven’t even seen me fight.”
“I know.”
“And you’ve already decided I’m doing it wrong.”
“I’ve met self-taught swordsmen before.”
“Maybe I’m different.”
“You wore heels to a combat meeting.”
“I came from work.”
“And now you’re making noises at your shoes.”
You stare at him.
From the kitchen, Hiromi says, “He has a point.”
“I liked both of you better at the bar.”
Hiromi comes back carrying three glasses. Water for you. Whiskey for himself and Kusakabe.
You take the water and look at him. “Seriously?”
“You’ve had enough.”
“You’re drinking.”
“I’m at home.”
“I’m also at your home.”
“You’re significantly smaller than I am.”
Kusakabe lifts his glass. “That was my point earlier.”
“You were wrong too.” You take an irritated drink of water. “I hate responsible men.”
Kusakabe takes a sip of whiskey. “You seem to spend a lot of time with one.”
You turn toward him. Hiromi pauses before taking a drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
Kusakabe looks into his glass. “You like arguing. We’ve established that.”
“I like being right.”
“That too.”
You shift on the couch, and pain shoots through your foot. You wince before you can stop it.
Hiromi notices. “Give me your foot.”
You stare at him. “What?”
“Your foot. Unless you plan to keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
You glance at Kusakabe. He settles farther into the chair. “Don’t look at me. I told you the shoes were a problem.”
Hiromi holds out his hand. It isn’t strange. He’s cleaned cuts on your hands before and changed bandages when your fingers were shaking too badly to do it yourself.
It only feels strange now because Kusakabe is watching. Or maybe because you’ve had four drinks.
You stretch your legs across the couch and rest your feet in Hiromi’s lap. His hand closes around your ankle.
Kusakabe looks down at his whiskey. “You two do this often?”
“No,” you say.
“Sometimes,” Hiromi says at the same time.
You look at him. “That answer made it sound worse.”
“I answered honestly.”
Kusakabe takes another drink. “I’m noticing that about him.”
Hiromi presses his thumb into the center of your arch. Your head falls back against the couch, and a quiet sound slips out before you can stop it.
No one says anything. Hiromi’s hand stills around your foot. Across the room, Kusakabe lowers his glass slightly. Heat crawls into your face.
Hiromi starts moving his thumb again. “Better?” he asks.
You clear your throat. “Yeah.”
His thumbs move over the bottom of your foot, finding all the places the shoes had been digging into you. He’s annoyingly good at this.
You close your eyes. “This is humiliating.”
“You were limping.”
“I was walking carefully.”
“You were limping carefully.”
A quiet laugh comes from across the room. You open one eye. Kusakabe is sitting with one ankle over the opposite knee, whiskey loose in his hand.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re watching.”
“I’m sitting here.”
“That isn’t a denial.”
“No,” he says. “It isn’t.”
Hiromi shifts to your other foot. His hand stays around your ankle a moment longer than it needs to. You pretend not to notice.
Atsuya watches you for another second. “You’re tense.”
“I’m sitting on a couch while two men judge my life choices.”
“I haven’t started yet.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I was.”
He sets his glass down and walks over, stopping behind the couch instead of next to you.
“May I?”
His hands hover near your shoulders.
You look up at him. “Yes.”
His thumbs find the muscles above your shoulder blades. The first press makes you suck in a breath.
“There.” He says.
“That hurts.”
“You’ll survive.”
You glance back at him. “That seems to be everyone’s favorite thing to say to me tonight.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Difference is,” he says quietly, “I know you will.”
His thumb presses a little deeper. The knot finally comes loose. You let out a slow breath and sink farther into the couch.
Hiromi’s fingers tighten slightly around your ankle. Neither man comments on the sound you make this time.
Atsuya works quietly for a while. The lazy irritation he wore at the bar disappears once his hands have something to do. He’s different from Hiromi. Firmer, maybe. He finds every knot and refuses to leave it alone until it gives.
Hiromi keeps rubbing your feet. You try very hard not to think about the fact that you’re sitting between them.
Atsuya’s thumbs travel lower along either side of your spine. Hiromi’s hand moves from your ankle to the tight muscle of your calf.
Your breathing catches. Both men notice. Atsuya’s hands stop near the lower edge of your ribs. Hiromi looks up. Both of them stop.
Atsuya glances at Hiromi before looking back at you. “Still helping?”
“Yes.” Your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to.
“Both of us?”
Heat climbs into your face. “Atsuya.”
It’s the first time you used his first name.
He looks at you for a second. “That wasn’t a no.”
Hiromi doesn’t move his hand. “You can tell us to stop,” he says.
The room goes quiet again. Rain taps against the windows.
Atsuya waits.
Hiromi waits.
“I don’t want you to.”
Hiromi studies your face for another second. “You’re sure?”
You nod. “Yes.”
Neither of them moves right away.
Then Atsuya lets out a quiet breath. “Well.”
You glance back at him.
“Guess we’re past pretending this is just a massage.”
Hiromi gives him a look.
“What?” Atsuya says. “It’s true.”
A small, embarrassed laugh escapes you before you can stop it.
Atsuya’s mouth twitches. “There. That’s better.”
His hands start moving again, but the touch is not really just a massage anymore. One hand slides down the center of your back. The other stays at your waist, keeping you steady as you shift. Hiromi’s fingers slide higher along your calf.
Neither touch should feel different, but it does. You reach for your water just to give your hands something to do. Atsuya watches your fingers close around the glass.
“She’s going to drop that.”
“I am not.”
Hiromi takes it from you anyway and places it beyond your reach.
You stare at him. “That was rude.”
“You were shaking.”
“I was not.”
Atsuya’s thumb presses into your waist. “You are now.”
You turn toward him a little too quickly. His face is closer than you expected. You hadn’t realized he’d leaned down.
For a second, you just look at each other. He isn't smiling anymore. He's just watching your face.
Your gaze falls briefly to his mouth. Atsuya notices.
“So,” he says.
You hate how unsteady your voice sounds. “So?”
“You’re not particularly subtle after four drinks.”
“Neither are you.”
“No,” he says. “I suppose I’m not.”
His hand leaves your waist. For one alarming moment, you think he’s pulling away entirely. Instead, his fingers brush your hair away from the side of your face. His knuckles graze your cheek, rough against your warm skin.
Hiromi watches the touch. Atsuya glances at him. Hiromi meets his eyes. Neither of them says anything.
“You brought her,” Atsuya says.
“I’m aware.”
“You neglected several relevant details.”
“You were meant to assess her technique.”
“I did.”
“And?”
Atsuya’s eyes move back to your face. “Complicated.”
You let out a breathless laugh. “That’s your professional opinion?”
“It’s my current one.”
Hiromi’s hand slides from your calf to your knee. Your laughter fades. His thumb presses lightly against the inside of it.
“You haven’t answered his question.” he says.
You look at him. “Answered what?”
Hiromi’s eyes lower briefly to Atsuya’s hand beside your face.
“What you want.”
That question carries years of working beside him, and glances you convinced yourself meant nothing.
But Atsuya’s hand is warm against your cheek.
You met him tonight, but you haven't really stopped noticing him since he looked up from that booth.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” you admit.
Atsuya’s thumb passes once over your cheekbone. “Honestly would be a start.”
You look from one man to the other. “I’m attracted to both of you.”
Atsuya gives the smallest nod, as though confirming something he already knew. Hiromi goes very still.
You immediately become more nervous. “Hiromi?”
His gaze lifts to yours. “How long?”
You look down at his hand on your knee. “Years.”
His fingers tighten. “Before?”
“Yes.”
“You suspected for years and did nothing?”
“There were reasons.”
Atsuya glances at you, then back at him. “And how’d that work out?”
Hiromi says nothing.
Atsuya gives a small nod. “Right.”
Atsuya’s mouth twitches. Despite the tension, you laugh. Hiromi looks at you when you do. The tension in his face eases. He smiles. Really smiles.
“You’re certain?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Hiromi sets your legs carefully aside and moves closer. He doesn’t grab you. He doesn’t issue another command. His hand rises to your face, fingers resting along your jaw as though he is giving you every opportunity to change your mind.
You lean into him first. His mouth meets yours.
At first, he kisses you carefully. Then your hand closes around the front of his shirt and his restraint breaks.
Hiromi kisses you deeper, his hand sliding behind your neck as he draws you toward him. The sound he makes against your mouth is quiet and rough, something dragged out of him despite his efforts to contain it.
Atsuya’s hand stays at your waist. You feel his thumb move once against your side. Hiromi pulls back only when you both need air. His forehead nearly touches yours. Neither of you speaks.
Atsuya breaks the silence. “That explains several things.”
Hiromi closes his eyes briefly. “You are incapable of leaving anything alone.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You teach.”
“I observe.”
You turn your head toward him. Atsuya is watching you differently now. There is no teasing in it. No professional explanation left.
“You’ve been very quiet,” you say.
“I was being polite.”
“You?”
“Occasionally.” His fingers tighten at your waist.
“And now?”
“I don’t think pretending is doing much anymore.”
Your pulse jumps. Atsuya looks at Hiromi. Hiromi looks at you. Not at Atsuya. At you.
You reach for the loosened tie hanging around Atsuya’s neck and curl your fingers into it. His eyebrows rise. You pull him closer.
The first kiss is brief because he’s surprised. The second isn’t.
Atsuya’s hand slides behind your neck, holding you steady as his mouth moves over yours. He kisses differently than Hiromi. Less restrained. Not reckless. Just decisive. Like once he'd made up his mind, there wasn't much point pretending otherwise.
You feel Hiromi’s hand settle on your thigh. Atsuya feels it too. He breaks the kiss and glances down.
“No objections?”
Hiromi’s fingers move slowly against your skin. “She already answered.”
Atsuya looks back at you.
“Yes,” you whisper.
His gaze darkens. “That wasn’t the question.”
“It’s still my answer.”
Hiromi’s mouth brushes the side of your neck. Atsuya’s hand remains at the back of your neck. The combined contact pulls a small, helpless sound from you. Both men stop. Not withdrawing. Just listening to you.
Atsuya’s eyes meet Hiromi’s over your shoulder. Hiromi’s thumb traces the inside of your thigh.
Atsuya exhales slowly. “That,” he says, voice lower now, “is going to become a problem.”
You turn toward him. “For who?”
His hand closes more firmly around your waist. “All three of us, apparently.”
Hiromi’s mouth moves against your skin. “You can still leave.”
Atsuya looks at him. “You keep offering.”
“You keep staying.”
“Yes.”
Atsuya turns you gently back toward Hiromi. “You two have wasted enough time.”
Hiromi’s eyes remain on yours. “You agree?”
You nod, then remember Atsuya’s earlier insistence.
“Yes.”
Hiromi kisses you again. Atsuya’s hands return to your shoulders, then slide slowly down your arms as you lean into Hiromi. His touch is patient now, almost exploratory, learning how you react while Hiromi’s mouth keeps you distracted.
Hiromi's hand slips under the edge of your skirt. You feel his fingers brush the inside of your thigh and your breath catches again.
"Still certain?" Hiromi asks against your skin.
"Yes."
Atsuya's mouth finds the side of your neck. He kisses slowly, deliberately, while his hands slide under your blouse. His palms are warm against your ribs.
"He'll keep asking," Atsuya says quietly.
"I know."
"Good."
Hiromi shifts lower on the couch, positioning himself between your legs. His fingers hook into the waistband of your thong and he pulls it down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Atsuya settles back against the couch and draws your back against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady.
"Easy, I’ve got you.” Atsuya murmurs against your ear.
Hiromi pushes your skirt up. His hands slide up your inner thighs, spreading them wider. Then his mouth is on you.
You gasp.
His tongue moves slowly. One hand grips your thigh while the other slides between your legs. He pushes one finger inside you, then another, and you feel the stretch.
Behind you, Atsuya's hands slide under your bra. He cups your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples and you make a sound you didn't mean to make. Then he moves his lips, kissing a trail from your jaw to just below your ear, and bites down.
Hiromi's fingers curl inside you. Your ability to think clearly starts to fade. Atsuya squeezes your breast and you gasp against him. You try to shift away but his grip tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you.
"There you go," Atsuya says quietly.
His other hand slides up to cup your jaw, turning your face slightly toward his. He's watching you.
Hiromi's rhythm becomes faster. His fingers thrust deeper and his tongue moves in coordination and the pressure builds low in your stomach.
Your body tenses. You grab Hiromi's hair without meaning to and the orgasm hits and it’s sudden and overwhelming. You cry out. Your body arches against Atsuya and you feel his grip tighten.
"Fuck," he mutters against your ear.
Hiromi doesn't stop. He works you through it until you collapse back against Atsuya, trembling.
Atsuya's grip tightens around your waist. He pulls you upright and guides you into his lap. You find yourself straddling him, your knees pressing into the couch on either side of his thighs.
"There… that’s much better.”
Being this close changes everything. His body is under yours now, his eyes looking directly into yours.
He leans forward and kisses you.
It's different from Hiromi's kiss. More direct. His mouth moves against yours with pressure and when you open for him his tongue slides against yours in a way that makes your entire body warm.
You shift instinctively, grinding down against him. You feel the hard length of him through his pants. Atsuya groans softly into your mouth.
His hands tighten at your waist, guiding your movements. The friction is maddening. It's not enough, but it's enough to make you desperate.
You're still trembling from Hiromi's touch, still sensitive, and the pressure of Atsuya's body under yours makes everything sharper.
Behind you, Hiromi's hands return to your thighs. He touches you slowly, his palms sliding up the outside of your legs, then inward. His touch is deliberate, keeping himself involved even as you move against Atsuya.
Atsuya breaks the kiss. His eyes flick over your shoulder toward Hiromi.
"Planning on staying there?"
There’s a pause.
"No," Hiromi says. His voice is rough.
You feel him stand. When you glance back, you see him looking at you and at the way you're moving against Atsuya, at the redness of your face.
His jaw tightens. "The bedroom would be more practical."
Atsuya repeats the word slowly. "Practical."
He shifts under you, his hands steadying you as he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist and he carries you toward the hallway.
Hiromi follows.
The bedroom is dark except for the faint light from the hallway.
Atsuya sets you down beside the bed. Hiromi moves past you both and switches on the small lamp on the nightstand. Warm light fills the room.
Nobody moves for a second. The sudden quiet makes you aware of exactly where you are. Hiromi's bedroom. Atsuya standing close behind you.
Hiromi steps toward you first. His fingers catch the hem of your blouse but he pauses.
"Still certain?"
You nod.
His gaze doesn't leave yours.
"Yes."
He pulls the fabric over your head.
You lift your arms to help him and the blouse falls somewhere near the foot of the bed. Hiromi's knuckles skim your ribs as his hands move behind you, finding the clasp of your bra.
Atsuya watches over your shoulder. The clasp releases. Hiromi draws the straps down your arms slowly. Atsuya exhales behind you. You glance back at him. His gaze is fixed on your bare skin.
"What?" you ask.
Atsuya's eyes lift to yours. "You know what."
You suddenly can't decide where to look. Hiromi's hands settle at your waist. His thumbs brush the strip of exposed skin above your skirt before finding the fastening.
"You can look at him," he says quietly.
You turn back toward Hiromi. "Do you want me to?"
His expression changes slightly. "I want you to stop pretending you haven't been."
Behind you, Atsuya gives a faint laugh. Hiromi lowers the zipper and guides the skirt over your hips. It slips down your legs. You step free of it.
Hiromi looks at you slowly. Not greedily or carelessly. His hand rises to your face. "Years?" he asks.
“Yes.”
His thumb moves against your cheek. "You could have told me."
"So could you."
Atsuya's hand settles against the small of your back. "You can revisit several years of poor communication later."
Hiromi looks past you at him. "You are remarkably impatient for someone who nearly went home."
"I've received new information."
Hiromi's eyes lower to the contact. Then he looks at you. Not possessively, not asking permission from Atsuya, just checking you.
You lean back into Atsuya deliberately. Hiromi hooks his fingers into the sides of your thong and slowly draws it down. You steady yourself with one hand on his shoulder while stepping out of them.
When you straighten, you are the only one fully undressed.
Hiromi's hand settles at your waist. Atsuya shifts closer. "This feels uneven."
Atsuya's mouth curves near your ear. "You noticed."
"You both have considerably more clothing on."
Hiromi's hands leave your hips. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, slow and deliberate. You watch his hands travel down the front of the fabric, revealing skin inch by inch. His movements remain controlled but his breathing does not.
Atsuya notices you staring. "Subtle."
"You've been staring at me for the last five minutes."
"I never claimed otherwise."
He steps away from you long enough to pull his tie free. It slides through his collar and drops to the floor. Then his fingers begin opening his own shirt, less methodically than Hiromi, but without hurrying.
You can't decide where to look. Hiromi pushes his shirt from his shoulders and new scars cross his ribs. Your fingers move before you think, touching the long one crossing his side. Hiromi goes still.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore."
His hand closes around yours, keeping it against his skin. Behind you, fabric rustles as Atsuya's shirt lands beside his tie.
When you look back, he's undoing his belt. Broader through the chest. Scarred in ways he doesn't bother hiding. You catch yourself staring.
Atsuya raises an eyebrow. "Something interesting?"
"You're very committed to asking me that tonight."
"You keep looking as though you've found the answer."
You glance down as he opens his trousers. Atsuya follows your gaze and gives a quiet laugh. "Definitely not subtle."
Your face burns but you don't look away this time. Hiromi's fingers close around your jaw and turn your face gently back toward him. His trousers are open now too, his belt discarded beside the bed. He stands close enough that your bare body brushes his.
"You can look at him later."
The words are calm but his voice is rougher than before.
You smile despite yourself. "Is that jealousy?"
"No."
Atsuya steps closer behind you, now stripped down as well. "He's been lying for about an hour."
"I'm reconsidering the invitation."
"You'd have to put your clothes back on first."
Hiromi ignores him and kisses you. It's not hurried or frantic. It starts controlled, his hand firm against your jaw and his mouth careful. But when you press closer and slide your hands over his bare chest, something in that control gives way.
His other arm closes around your waist as the kiss deepens. Atsuya's hand moves along your side while Hiromi holds you, his rough palm following the curve from your ribs to your hip. His mouth brushes your shoulder, then your neck.
Hiromi's chest is bare against you. Behind you, Atsuya's skin is warm.
When Hiromi pulls back, his breathing is uneven. His eyes move over your face before lowering briefly to where your bodies meet.
Then he looks toward the bed. "We should lie down."
Atsuya's mouth grazes your neck. "Practical."
Hiromi gives him a flat look. "The floor is hardwood."
"That would be my concern too."
You laugh, breathless and nervous and so attracted to both of them that it almost hurts. Hiromi sits on the edge of the mattress and reaches for you. You take his hand.
He draws you between his knees first, his palms traveling slowly up your thighs. Atsuya remains close behind you, one hand at your hip, his chest brushing your back.
Hiromi looks up at you. He kisses the center of your stomach, then rests his forehead there, breathing hard. When he looks up again, his jaw is tight.
"Come here." He says.
He shifts onto the bed and lies back. You climb after him, settling over his hips while his hands find your waist. Atsuya kneels behind you, one palm moving slowly along your spine.
You lower yourself onto Hiromi slowly. The stretch is overwhelming. You gasp, your hands bracing against his chest, and Hiromi's grip tightens on your waist. His eyes are locked on your face.
"Oh—oh, fuck—“ he breathes.
His eyes stay locked on your face. You start to move. Slowly at first. Hiromi's thumbs brush your nipples and you arch into the sensation.
Behind you, Atsuya's mouth finds the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. He kisses below your ear, then bites down.
"That's it," he murmurs.
He guides you deeper, pushing you down onto Hiromi with each movement. The rhythm builds. Hiromi's hips thrust up to meet you.
"I've thought about this." His voice is raw. "Every time I saw you—Every time you smiled at me."
You slow your rhythm, really hearing his words. Atsuya's hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. The sensation pulls you back into motion, but you can't look away from Hiromi's face.
"Don't stop," Atsuya says against your neck.
You don't, moving faster as Hiromi's hands roam over your breasts, your waist, your thighs—searching, settling, then moving again. His hips thrust up to meet you with each movement.
"God—" he breathes. "You're—"
Atsuya's fingers move faster. The pressure becomes unbearable. Your entire body tenses. Then the orgasm hits.
You cry out, your body clenching around Hiromi as your hands fist in the sheets. He groans under you.
"Fuck—" Hiromi's voice breaks. "You feel—"
Atsuya draws it out until you're trembling and finally collapsing forward onto Hiromi's chest.
Nobody moves. Then Atsuya's hands settle at your waist.
"Move." He shifts, watching Hiromi. "You had your moment."
He guides you off Hiromi carefully. The loss hits immediately. Atsuya positions you on your hands and knees, his hands firm at your hips.
He enters you in one smooth thrust and the angle makes you gasp.
"Fuck," Atsuya mutters.
His rhythm is faster. Rougher. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks and he pulls you back onto him with every thrust. You're vaguely aware of Hiromi shifting at the head of the bed. Sitting up. Watching. Atsuya guides you forward, angling your body toward him.
Hiromi's eyes are focused entirely on your face. One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. You lean into his touch. Then you reach for him.
Your hand wraps around his cock and Hiromi inhales sharply. You stroke him slowly, watching his reaction, and then you lean forward and take him into your mouth.
His hand settles into your hair immediately.
"God," he breathes.
Behind you, Atsuya's rhythm doesn't falter. Every thrust pushes you forward onto Hiromi and you feel the coordination between them in the way that Atsuya controls the pace, the way Hiromi steadies you when the force becomes too much.
"You're trying so hard to keep it together, aren't you?" Atsuya says.
You moan around Hiromi's cock and the vibration makes him groan. Atsuya's pace quickens. His thrusts become harder, faster, and every movement drives you deeper and deeper onto Hiromi.
Caught between them, you can barely think. Atsuya’s hand moves between your legs, finding your clit. He rubs in quick circles. The added stimulation sends you over the edge. You come hard, body clenching around Atsuya, mouth still full of Hiromi. You let out a loud moan that’s muffled by Hiromi’s cock.
"Fuck—that's it—" Atsuya says.
He keeps moving, drawing it out. You're barely aware of Hiromi's hand tightening in your hair. Of the way his breathing has become ragged.
When you finally come down, trembling, Atsuya pulls back. "Switch," he says.
Hiromi doesn't argue. They move. Hiromi is behind you now, settling at your hips. Atsuya shifts to sit in front of you.
Hiromi enters you from behind. The angle is deeper than before. He begins slowly. You lean forward and take Atsuya into your mouth.
Atsuya's hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up slightly so he can watch you. His other hand tangles in your hair.
"He's falling apart," Atsuya observes.
Behind you, Hiromi's thrusts become harder and more erratic. Hiromi's only response is a rough groan. His hands tighten on your hips and he thrusts deeper and rougher.
"God—" Hiromi breathes. "You're—"
Another orgasm is building. Atsuya's hand tightens slightly at your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Let him feel it," he murmurs.
The orgasm hits and you cry out around Atsuya's cock. Your body clenches around Hiromi and you hear him curse, feel his rhythm stutter.
"Fuck—" He pulls out, his breathing is ragged.
For a moment, no one moves. Then Hiromi shifts, moving to lie on his back. Atsuya guides you into position, helps you straddle Hiromi's hips. You're shaking as you sink down onto him inch by inch. Hiromi's hands settle at your waist, steadying you. His eyes lock on yours.
You start to move, finding a slow rhythm, and Hiromi's hands slide up your sides. Behind you, the bed shifts. Atsuya settles behind you on his knees, his chest pressing against your back. His hands position you.
"Look at me," Hiromi says quietly.
You do. Atsuya's hand tightens at your hip. You feel the pressure of his hard cock at your lower back, then moving even lower.
"Don't rush her," Hiromi says.
"I'm not," Atsuya replies.
"You are."
"She's the one pushing back against me.”
Hiromi's hand moves to your face, cupping your jaw, keeping your eyes on his. Atsuya enters you slowly, and the stretch is overwhelming. Your body tenses.
"Breathe," Atsuya says.
You force yourself to relax and he pushes forward another inch. The sensation is intense, almost too much.
Atsuya pushes forward again and then he’s fully inside you. Nobody moves for a second as they let you adjust. Then Hiromi shifts under you and his hands tighten on your hips.
Then they start to move. Slowly at first, finding their rhythm. When Atsuya thrusts forward it pushes you down onto Hiromi. When Hiromi thrusts up it pushes you back onto Atsuya.
You’re completely full, caught between them. Hiromi's hand stays at your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I've wanted this so long," he murmurs, and his voice breaks slightly. "Wanted you."
Behind you, Atsuya's breathing is growing rougher. They speed up their pace. Their movements become faster, harder, and the pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.
"I can't—" you gasp.
"Yes, you can," Hiromi says. "You can take it."
Atsuya's hand slides around to find your clit. He rubs in quick circles and the added stimulation sends you over the edge.
The orgasm crashes through you. Your entire body convulses, clenching around both of them, and you scream.
"God—" Hiromi groans.
"Fuck—" Atsuya curses behind you.
They don't stop. They keep moving, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the force of it. Another wave hits before the first subsides. You cry out again, your body shaking, and you feel Atsuya tense behind you.
His pace stutters. He thrusts slowly, deeply, and then he is coming. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pushes deeper.
"Fuck—fuck—fuck—" he groans.
The feeling of him spilling inside you makes you moan. Atsuya withdraws and the loss is immediate.
Hiromi's hands move to your waist and in one smooth motion he guides you onto your back. He positions himself above you, his body settling between your thighs. He hooks your legs up, your thighs wrapping around his waist, and then he’s inside you again.
The angle is more intimate. You can see his face, feel his breath against your lips. He starts to move, his thrusts slow at first, but quickly becoming harder and more desperate.
His voice breaks. "I can't—it's too fucking good—"
His mouth crashes against yours, kissing you passionately. His forehead presses against yours as he thrusts even deeper and faster.
The pressure builds again, impossibly fast and then you are coming. Clenching around him, crying out against his mouth.
You tightening around him drives him over the edge. His rhythm falters and then he is coming inside you with a shuddering groan, his body tensing.
"Fuuuuck—"
He keeps moving, slow deep thrusts, riding it out until he finally stops. For several moments no one moves. All three of you are breathing hard, completely spent.
Hiromi carefully withdraws and collapses beside you on the bed. Atsuya lies on your other side, one arm draped across his eyes. You lie between them, unable to form words, your body still trembling with aftershocks.
The room is filled with uneven breathing and the slow return of awareness. For several minutes, none of you move. Then your breathing begins to steady. Your cheek finds Hiromi's pillow. Your body grows heavy, pleasantly useless. Hiromi's hand moves through your hair in slow, absent strokes. Atsuya's palm rests between your shoulder blades, rubbing the same place where this entire disaster began.
The room is quiet except for three uneven sets of breathing and the rain tapping softly against the window.
Eventually, Atsuya exhales. “Well.”
You close your eyes. “Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to say Higuruma takes professional consultations very seriously.”
Hiromi’s fingers pause in your hair. “You can still leave.”
Atsuya glances toward the window. “In that?”
“The rain stopped.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“No.”
Atsuya’s mouth curves.
You make a tired sound and drag the blanket higher over your shoulder. “You’re both exhausting.”
“That seems unfair,” Atsuya says. “You did considerably less work toward the end.”
You lift your head just enough to glare at him. He looks insufferably pleased with himself, hair falling untidily across his forehead, one arm folded beneath his head.
Hiromi’s hand slides from your hair to the back of your neck. “Don’t provoke her.”
“She can barely lift her head.”
“I can still bite.”
Atsuya considers that. “I know.”
Heat returns to your face despite everything. His eyes drop briefly to your mouth. Hiromi notices. You feel his thumb move against the side of your neck. The silence becomes charged again with embarrassing speed.
You let your face fall back into the pillow. “No.”
Atsuya raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“Whatever that look was.”
“I was looking at you.”
“Exactly.”
Hiromi reaches toward the nightstand and hands you the glass of water he brought in earlier. “Drink.”
You push yourself upright with a grimace and accept it.
Atsuya watches you take several long swallows. “You do listen occasionally.”
You lower the glass. “I listened all night.”
“You argued all night.”
“That means I was engaged.”
Hiromi takes the glass before you can drop it and places it back on the nightstand.
Atsuya looks at him. “She does that often?”
“Drops things?”
“Lets you order her around.”
“I do not let him order me around.”
Hiromi lies back against the headboard. “No. She usually complains first.”
You turn toward him in betrayal. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I wasn’t aware there were sides.”
Atsuya gives a quiet laugh.
“There are now,” you tell him.
“And which one am I on?”
“The couch.”
His expression flattens.
Hiromi’s mouth shifts faintly. “That is where I intended to put him.”
Atsuya looks between the two of you. “I see how it is.”
“You met her tonight,” Hiromi says.
“And?”
“And you are not sleeping beside her.”
Atsuya’s eyes sharpen with amusement. “That sounds remarkably territorial for a man who invited me into his bedroom.”
“I invited you into the apartment.”
“The distinction became unclear.”
You cover your face with both hands. “I cannot believe you’re discussing sleeping arrangements while I’m still naked.”
Hiromi's expression shifts to something almost amused. Atsuya's smile widens. You immediately pull the blanket higher.
Atsuya’s mouth curves. “Now she’s shy.”
“I am not shy.”
“You’re hiding.”
“I’m cold.”
Hiromi reaches down, finds his discarded shirt beside the bed, and hands it to you. You slip it on beneath the blanket. The fabric is warm from the room and hangs loosely around your thighs when you sit up. Hiromi looks at you. His expression softens for just a moment before he catches himself.
Atsuya catches it. “Oh,” he says.
Hiromi’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You have not meant that once tonight.”
Atsuya continues looking at you in Hiromi’s shirt. “That explains the couch.”
You glance between them. “What does?”
Hiromi answers before Atsuya can. “Nothing.”
Atsuya laughs.
You try to climb out of bed, mostly because remaining between them while they communicate in loaded glances is becoming unbearable. The moment your feet touch the floor, your knees threaten to fold. Hiromi catches your wrist. Atsuya’s hand closes around your waist from the other side.
You freeze between them. Neither man laughs. That somehow makes it worse.
“I’m fine,” you say.
“You nearly fell,” Hiromi replies.
“I stood too quickly.”
Atsuya steadies you against his chest. “Obviously.”
You look down at his arm around you. “You seem very comfortable for someone assigned to the couch.”
“I haven’t accepted the ruling.”
Hiromi stands. He’s still mostly undressed, which makes the stern expression considerably less effective. “The ruling is final.”
“You’re a former defense attorney. You should respect an appeal.”
“I respect persuasive arguments.”
Atsuya looks down at you. Then his hand slides slowly from your waist to your hip. You stop breathing for half a second.
His eyes return to Hiromi. “I believe I have one.”
Hiromi stares at his hand. Then at you. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
“That is not an argument,” Hiromi says.
“It convinced her.”
“It did not.”
Hiromi's fingers drum against his thigh. Atsuya waits with an expression of almost theatrical patience. You clear your throat. “I think the couch sounds uncomfortable.” Atsuya’s smile is immediate.
Hiromi closes his eyes. “You have known him for six hours.”
“And yet she’s already concerned about my spinal health.”
“I’m a social worker. It’s instinctive.”
“You are enjoying this,” Hiromi says.
“A little.”
His gaze settles on your face. “A little?”
You step closer and place your hand on his chest. “Maybe more than a little.”
Hiromi’s hand closes around your waist.
Behind you, Atsuya exhales. “There goes the couch.”
Hiromi lowers his mouth to yours. The kiss is slower than before, but not less certain. His thumb presses into your side, and you melt into him almost immediately.
When he releases you, Atsuya is watching with his head tilted. “You two are going to be unbearable.”
“You’re free to leave,” Hiromi says.
Atsuya stands and moves closer. He brushes your hair away from your neck, then bends to press a kiss just below your ear. You shiver.
“No,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I am.”
Hiromi looks at him over your shoulder. Something silent passes between them. Not jealousy. Just the reluctant acknowledgment that none of you is particularly interested in ending the night yet.
Hiromi's hand settles at your waist. Atsuya shifts closer.
“So where am I sleeping?” You ask.
“In the bed,” Hiromi says.
“With me,” Atsuya adds.
Hiromi gives him a flat look.
You climb back beneath the blankets before they can begin another argument. “I’m sleeping in the middle.”
Both men go quiet. Then the mattress dips on either side of you. Hiromi settles behind you, one arm sliding carefully around your waist. Atsuya lies facing you, close enough that his knee brushes yours under the blanket.
For a few moments, nobody speaks. Atsuya’s fingers trace lazily along the cuff of Hiromi’s shirt covering your wrist.
“Tuesday,” he says.
You blink at him sleepily. “What about Tuesday?”
“Training.”
“You still want to train me after this?”
“Especially after this.”
Hiromi’s arm tightens around you. “Training,” he says pointedly.
Atsuya looks past you at him. “Obviously.”
You narrow your eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” they say together.
You groan and bury your face against Atsuya’s chest. His hand settles at the back of your head. Behind you, Hiromi’s mouth brushes your shoulder through his shirt. Warmth gathers around you from both sides, unexpectedly soft after everything that came before. You feel yourself starting to drift.
Then Atsuya speaks near your hair. “For the record, your technique is still terrible.”
Your eyes open. Hiromi sighs. You lift your head and glare at Atsuya. “You waited until I was almost asleep to say that?”
“I thought you’d be less argumentative.”
“You thought wrong.”
His mouth curves. “There she is.”
Hiromi’s hand slides underneath the hem of the shirt and rests against your bare stomach. “You can argue with him Tuesday.”
“I’m busy Tuesday.”
“You weren’t ten minutes ago,” Atsuya says.
“I’ve developed plans.”
“With who?”
You look at him. Atsuya’s amusement fades into something hotter. Hiromi’s fingers flex against your stomach.
You smile sweetly and settle back between them. “I’ll let you know.”
Atsuya stares at you. Hiromi gives a quiet laugh against your shoulder. It might be the first time you’ve heard him do it without restraint. You close your eyes, smiling into the pillow. Tuesday is going to be a disaster. But, God are you are looking forward to it.
Higuruma inventing law and immediately marrying into crime.
Kashimo starting a fight club as a marital enrichment activity.
Through all of this, Kusakabe has endured because Kusakabe understands a sacred truth: If the woman is stronger than you, be respectful from a safe distance.
This system has worked for many moons.
Kusakabe also has no mate.
This is intentional.
Mates create problems.
Mates require meat.
Mates expect protection.
Mates make men act stupid.
Kusakabe has watched strong men lose themselves to women.
Nanami went from respected hunter to pregnant-mate belly-rubber.
Toji got domesticated by a woman who used to consider eating him.
Sukuna, the king of all prehistoric rodents, now lets his mate braid his hair while threatening anyone who notices.
Gojo became whatever Gojo is now.
Kusakabe refuses this fate.
Kusakabe is free.
Kusakabe is safe.
Kusakabe is smort.
Then you notice him.
It happens during the Great Mammoth Disaster.
The hunting party returns early.
Why?
Because Gojo tried to adopt a baby mammoth.
The baby mammoth was not an orphan.
The mother mammoth won.
Gojo is upside down in a tree, laughing and bleeding from the forehead.
Nanami is carrying his pregnant mate away from the danger because she keeps trying to throw rocks at the father mammoth.
Toji is laughing because Gojo is stuck.
Sukuna wants to fight the mother mammoth.
His mate bites his arm until he stops.
Kashimo, Choso, and Ino won’t stop howling with laughter because Higuruma can’t sue the mammoth baby in court.
Kusakabe?
Kusakabe is doing the smartest thing.
He is hiding behind a boulder.
Perfectly still.
Breathing through his nose.
Sweating.
He has calculated distance.
He has identified escape routes.
He has already abandoned seven people in his heart.
Then the mammoth mother turns.
Looks directly at his boulder.
Kusakabe’s soul leaves his body through his butthole.
He slowly peeks around.
The mammoth huffs.
Kusakabe whispers a single grunt. (Mommy, please.)
The mammoth Wonder Woman charges.
Kusakabe screams.
He runs.
Fast.
So fast.
The fastest he has ever run in his life.
His feet and hands barely touch ground.
His wig flies with the wind.
His eyes are wide with the beautiful terror of a man who wants to continue breathing.
He vaults over a fallen log.
Grabs a vine by accident.
Swings across a ditch.
Lands painfully on his ass.
Keeps running.
The tribe watches.
Someone gasps.
That someone is you.
You are crouched on a rock, eating berries.
You came to watch the mammoth panic for entertainment.
But now you see him.
Kusakabe.
Stressed.
Sweaty.
Eyes wild.
Mouth open in horror.
Moving with the desperate grace of a hedgehog that has lost his mom.
Your berry falls from your hand.
Your pupils widen.
Your prehistoric brain lights up.
Kusakabe runs past your rock.
You inhale his fear-sweat.
Your entire body locks.
Strong scent.
Fast legs.
Good survival.
Excellent anxiety.
Perfect mate.
You stand.
Kusakabe keeps running.
The mammoth slows, bored now that Gojo has fallen out of the tree and become more interesting.
Kusakabe reaches the riverbank and collapses onto all fours.
Panting.
Alive.
He has survived again.
Then a shadow falls over him.
He looks up.
You stand above him.
Holding your half-eaten berry basket at your waist.
Kusakabe squints.
You stare.
He stares back.
You sniff.
Kusakabe freezes.
Bad.
Very bad.
You crouch.
Sniff again.
Closer.
Kusakabe leans back.
Grunts. (Can help you?)
You tilt your head.
Then grin.
Wide.
Hungry.
Possessive. (Mate.)
Kusakabe’s blood turns to ice.
He points at himself and grunts. (Me?)
You grunt back. (Mate.)
Kusakabe shakes his head immediately. (NO.)
You grin harder.
He stands.
Steps back.
You step forward.
He steps back again.
You step forward again.
The tribe notices.
Gojo, being chased by his own wife now, wheezes. (Atsuya got chosen.)
Nanami looks over, sighs.
Kusakabe hates that.
Toji grins. (Run.)
Kusakabe does.
You chase.
Because this is courtship.
Kusakabe disagrees. Strongly.
He runs through the camp.
You run after him.
He dodges around fire pits.
You leap over them.
He ducks behind Higuruma.
You shove Higuruma aside with one arm and hand him the berry basket for Neanderthal aerodynamics.
Higuruma, from the dirt, grunts. (Assault. Crime.)
You do not care.
Kusakabe grabs a basket and throws it behind him.
You crash through it.
Ijichi’s berries are now everywhere.
Kashimo screams because those were for his mate.
Kashimo’s mate roars from somewhere in the distance.
Kusakabe runs faster.
You laugh.
Kusakabe dives behind Nanami.
Nanami looks at him.
Kusakabe grips Nanami’s leg. Grunts. (Help.)
Nanami looks at you.
You stand there, breathing hard, eyes fixed on Kusakabe like he is the last warm cave in winter.
Nanami looks back at Kusakabe.
Then gently removes Kusakabe’s hands from his leg.
Grunts. (Your problem.)
Treason.
Kusakabe scrambles away.
You follow.
He climbs a tree.
He has never climbed with romantic pressure before.
His foot slips twice.
His loincloth almost catches on bark.
He reaches a branch and clings to it like a dying lizard.
You stand below.
Look up.
Smile.
Then start climbing.
Fast.
Too fast.
Kusakabe whimpers.
Gojo appears on the next branch over, thrilled. (Oooh. She climb good.)
Kusakabe hisses. (Go away.)
Gojo grins. (Mate hunt. Beautiful.)
Kusakabe kicks him.
Gojo falls.
You are almost at Kusakabe’s branch.
Kusakabe looks down.
Too high.
Looks at you.
Too close.
Looks at nearby vine.
Suspicious.
But better.
He grabs it.
Swings.
For one glorious second, Kusakabe flies.
Free.
Untouchable.
A master of escape.
Then the vine snaps.
He falls into the river.
SPLASH!!!
You land on the bank.
Lean over.
Kusakabe’s head pops up.
Hair plastered to his face.
Eyes furious.
Dignity gone.
You clasp your hands to your chest.
Oh.
Wet too.
Even better.
You are in love.
Kusakabe tries to hide after that.
He chooses a small cave far from the main camp.
He covers the entrance with branches.
Smears mud over himself to mask scent.
Breathes slowly.
A flawless plan.
Outside, footsteps pass slowly.
Kusakabe presses both hands over his mouth.
You sniff.
Kusakabe’s eyes widen.
You crouch outside the cave entrance.
Long silence.
Then your hand punches through the branch cover and grabs his ankle.
Kusakabe screams.
You drag him out.
He claws at dirt.
Grunts. (NO MATE. NO MATE. I BAD MATE. VERY BAD. USELESS. SCARED.)
You pull him closer.
Study his face.
He is sweating again.
Terrified.
Struggling.
Hot.
You nod approvingly. (Good mate. Very alive.)
Kusakabe wheezes. (That is low standard.)
You pat his cheek.
He stops.
Your hand is warm.
Your face is close.
Your eyes are direct.
Kusakabe’s brain makes one dangerous observation.
You are pretty.
He hates his brain.
He immediately tries to crawl backward again.
You grab his wrist.
He freezes.
You grunt. (Mate come cave.)
He shakes his head.
You narrow your eyes.
He points at the forest.
Then at himself.
Then makes running fingers. (Translation: I must go somewhere important.)
You squint. (Where?)
Kusakabe points vaguely. (There.)
You look.
It is a bush.
You look back.
He nods seriously.
The bush is important.
You slowly release his wrist.
Kusakabe stands.
Walks toward the bush.
Calm.
Dignified.
Then bolts.
You wait two heartbeats.
Then chase.
Because now you understand.
Mate likes game.
Fine.
You like game too.
The chase lasts three days.
Kusakabe runs across the valley.
You follow.
He crosses river.
You swim.
He climbs cliff.
You climb faster.
He joins a traveling group of rival Neanderthals for disguise.
You walk into their camp, sniff once, grab him by the back of his fur, and drag him out while the rival tribe beats their chest to your dominance.
Kusakabe tries hiding under dead leaves.
You step directly on his ass.
He yelps.
You grin.
Kusakabe tries pretending to be dead.
You squat beside him.
Poke his cheek.
He stays limp.
You try to look below his loincloth.
He twitches.
You lean down and lick his jaw.
He shoots upright.
You beam.
Alive.
Good.
Kusakabe tries bargaining with Higuruma.
Higuruma listens carefully.
Kusakabe explains through frantic grunts. (Woman pursuing me across earth. I refuse mate. Need law. Protection.)
Higuruma nods.
Very serious.
Then turns to you.
You stand behind Kusakabe, holding flowers in one hand and a club in the other.
Higuruma grunts. (Did she hurt you?)
Kusakabe opens mouth.
Stops.
Technically?
No.
Mostly fear.
Some dragging.
One lick.
Psychological collapse.
Higuruma waits.
Kusakabe deflates.
Higuruma nods. (No crime.)
Kusakabe stares.
You offer Higuruma’s criminal mate flowers.
She accepts.
Case closed.
Kusakabe runs again.
By the fourth day, Kusakabe is exhausted.
His feet hurt.
His throat is dry.
His hair looks like a bird nested in it and gave up.
He has crossed half the Neanderthal earth.
You are still behind him.
Cheerful.
Carrying food items.
At some point, you start feeding him during the chase.
He pauses to catch breath behind a rock.
A piece of roasted meat appears beside his face.
He stares.
You are crouched on top of the rock.
Holding it out. (Good mate run far. Eat.)
Kusakabe hesitates.
His stomach growls.
You wiggle the meat.
He takes it.
Chews.
It is good.
Damn it.
You grin.
He swallows. Grunts. (Still no mate.)
You nod.
Then point into the distance. (Run more.)
Kusakabe stares.
You have turned his rejection into exercise.
He hates you.
He runs.
You chase.
But something changes after the food.
You keep him alive.
When he trips, you yank him up before hyenas reach him.
When he takes the wrong path, you throw a rock near his foot to redirect him away from a snake pit.
When he collapses from thirst, you roll him into the shade and dump water into his mouth until he coughs.
When a rival hunter tries to grab him, you appear from behind and bonk the man into a tree.
Kusakabe watches from the ground, panting.
The rival hunter slides down the trunk.
You dust your hands.
Turn to Kusakabe and smile. (Mate safe.)
Kusakabe’s heart does the stupid thing again.
He looks away and grunts. (I did not ask.)
You shrug. (Safe anyway.)
How dare you be terrifying and competent.
How dare you chase him to the ends of the earth and bring meat.
The final escape happens at sunset.
Kusakabe finds a narrow canyon.
Perfect.
One path in.
One path out.
Loose rocks overhead.
If he moves fast enough, he can slip through, knock down stones, block the way, and finally lose you.
He almost respects himself for thinking of it.
He runs into the canyon.
You follow.
He sprints.
You laugh behind him.
He reaches the loose rock wall.
Grabs a branch.
Pulls.
Rocks tumble.
The path collapses behind him.
Kusakabe staggers forward.
Free.
Actually free.
He turns.
The canyon is blocked.
You are on the other side.
Hidden by dust.
Kusakabe breathes hard.
His chest rises.
Falls.
He waits.
No sound.
He steps closer.
Dust clears.
The rocks are bigger than he expected.
Too big.
Too much.
His stomach drops.
Grunts. (Woman?)
Silence.
Kusakabe’s mouth goes dry.
He scrambles to the rock pile.
Pulls at stones.
They barely move.
His fingers scrape.
Blood beads under his nails.
He pulls harder. (Woman?)
Nothing moves.
Panic hits.
Real panic.
Not mammoth panic.
Not mating panic.
Worse.
Because he caused this.
He buried you.
Because he wanted to run.
Because he kept running.
Kusakabe digs.
Hard.
Furious.
A stone cuts his palm.
He keeps going.
Then he hears it.
A grunt.
Muffled.
Irritated.
Kusakabe almost collapses.
He presses his face near a gap, grunts. (Alive?)
From behind the rocks, your voice comes. (Alive.)
His whole body loosens.
Then your grunt comes again. (Mate worried?)
Kusakabe freezes.
Even trapped under canyon rocks, you are smug.
He grits his teeth and grunts. (No.)
From behind the wall a laugh breaks. (Liar.)
Kusakabe exhales.
Then starts digging again.
This time, he does not stop.
By nightfall, the tribe finds him.
Nanami arrives with Toji and Sukuna.
Gojo arrives too, because drama smells better than food.
They see Kusakabe covered in dust, hands bleeding, moving stones one by one.
Nanami’s expression shifts.
Toji whistles low.
Sukuna grins.
Gojo gasps. (He digging for mate.)
Kusakabe snaps. (SHE IS NOT—)
A rock shifts.
Your hand pops through the gap and grabs his wrist.
Kusakabe shuts up.
The tribe goes silent.
You squeeze his wrist.
Warm.
Alive.
Kusakabe grips back.
Hard.
Sukuna looks delighted.
Gojo looks emotional.
Together, the men move the rocks.
It takes effort.
By the time they pull you free, you are scratched and dusty.
You step out.
Kusakabe reaches for you before he can stop himself.
Checks your face.
Your arms.
Your side.
You let him.
Your eyes stay fixed on him.
He realizes everyone is watching.
He drops his hands.
You tilt your head, grunt softly. (Mate worried.)
Kusakabe closes his eyes.
He cannot deny it anymore.
He could run from mammoth.
Run across valley.
Run to rival tribes.
Run until his feet split.
But the second you vanished under stone, he dug like a man losing his own lungs.
You step closer.
Kusakabe does not step back.
The tribe gasps.
Gojo grabs Nanami’s arm.
Nanami removes Gojo’s hand without looking.
You lift hand slowly.
Kusakabe tenses.
You cup his cheek.
His breath catches.
You grin. (Mate done running?)
Kusakabe looks at you.
Then at the tribe, waiting like vultures around a fresh corpse.
He sighs and grunts. (Mate stop chasing?)
You think.
Then shake your head.
Kusakabe’s eye twitches.
You grin wider. (Mate run. I chase. Good for legs.)
Gojo ruins the moment by laughing.
Kusakabe stares at you in horror.
Then you lean in and press your forehead to his.
His anger breaks under the contact.
You smell like dust, sweat, and the roasted meat you kept feeding him against his will.
Kusakabe mutters a tiny grunt. (Fine.)
Sukuna claps like a demon at a wedding.
Nanami sighs his most devastating sigh yet.
You beam.
Then reach for him.
Kusakabe stiffens.
Gojo inhales like he is about to ruin everything.
You grab Kusakabe’s wrist.
Then you turn his palm over.
His fingers are torn from digging.
Blood crusted under nails.
Skin scraped raw.
You stare.
Your smile drops.
Kusakabe’s stomach twists.
He knows that face.
That is the face mates make before inventing care.
Unnecessary.
Often wet.
You grunt. (Mate hands hurt.)
Kusakabe pulls back. (Hands fine.)
You grab his wrist again.
Stronger.
He stops.
You lick the dirt from his knuckles.
Kusakabe’s soul leaves his body through his ear.
The tribe screams.
Nanami closes his eyes.
Toji laughs so hard he has to sit down.
Sukuna looks impressed against his will.
Kusakabe yanks his hand back, red to his ears. (NO. NO MOUTH ON WOUND. DIRT. BAD.)
You blink.
Then nod.
This is good information.
Mate does not like mouth on wound.
Fine.
You will use better gift.
Kusakabe sees thought enter your eyes.
His blood chills.
He grunts. (Do not.)
You look up. (Do what?)
He points at your face. (That.)
You smile.
Kusakabe whispers a tiny death-noise.
By morning, you are gone.
Kusakabe wakes alone by the cold fire, wrapped in one of your furs.
Free.
He can leave.
Return to his small cave.
Smear mud over himself and pretend none of this happened.
He sits up.
Looks at the empty sleeping spot.
Sniffs.
Your scent is there.
Warm.
Dusty.
Meat-smoke.
Kusakabe stares at the fur.
Then slowly pulls it tighter around his shoulders.
Disgusting.
He is disgusting now.
Outside, Gojo peeks around a rock.
Kusakabe throws a pebble at him.
Gojo dodges, thrilled. (Mate sad?)
Kusakabe bares teeth. (Die.)
Gojo gasps with delight. (Mate sad.)
Kusakabe stands up to commit murder.
Gojo runs.
Across camp, you are committing science.
Prehistoric sticky science.
You crouch beside a flat warm stone near the fire pit with crushed sweet berries, honeycomb stolen from a very angry tree, thick sap scraped from bark, and a peeled twig.
Shoko watches from a safe distance.
Taking mental notes for future crimes.
You mash berries with a stone, drown them in stolen honey, then ruin the whole thing with too much sap.
The mixture clings to your fingers in red-gold strings.
You sniff.
Sweet.
Good.
You roll the sticky mash between your palms.
It sticks to both hands.
You growl.
Shoko snorts.
You glare.
She grunts. (Wet hands.)
You wet your hands.
The sticky ball behaves.
You press it around the peeled twig.
It slumps.
You add crushed nuts.
It holds.
Ugly.
Lumpy.
Shining.
A berry-honey lump on a stick.
The first lollipop is born.
It looks like a small animal organ.
You are proud.
Shoko leans closer, sniffs, and grunts. (Will kill?)
You frown.
Important question.
You look around.
A lizard sits on a rock.
You hold the sweet stick near it.
The lizard licks.
You wait.
It lives.
Runs away.
Good.
Mating gift safe. (Probably.)
You beam.
Meanwhile, Kusakabe is also suffering.
Because you like those thorn berries.
The dark ones near the west slope.
The ones guarded by cruel bushes with hooked thorns and small birds that scream when touched.
You like them.
He knows because you ate them during the mammoth disaster.
Because apparently Kusakabe remembers things now.
Disgusting.
So he goes to get them, secretly.
With dignity.
The thorn bush immediately tears his wrist.
Kusakabe hisses. (Evil plant.)
The plant does not care.
He reaches again.
Another thorn catches his hair.
He freezes.
A bird screams at him.
Kusakabe whispers. (I respect your home. I only need berries.)
The bird screams louder.
Kusakabe backs away.
Fine.
New plan.
A smarter plan.
He finds Naoya near the river, polishing a bone ornament and looking like he personally owns sunlight.
Naoya is lean, clean, sharp-eyed.
Too well-kept for a man who lives near mud.
He sees Kusakabe and immediately looks bored.
Kusakabe points toward the slope. (Naoya.)
Naoya does not move.
Kusakabe tries again. (Big berries there.)
Naoya’s eyes flick.
Kusakabe keeps his face blank.
Then, very carefully, he grunts. (Too high for most men.)
Naoya’s head turns.
There.
Hook in flesh.
Kusakabe adds, softer. (Thorns too sharp. Only strong hands maybe.)
Naoya’s mouth curls.
Smug.
He stands.
Straightens his ornaments and grunts. (Move. Useless older man.)
Kusakabe moves.
Naoya walks to the thorn bush like he has never been humbled by plant life.
Kusakabe follows at a safe distance.
Very safe.
Naoya reaches into the bush.
The bush eats him.
Thorns hook his arms.
His hair.
His fine fur.
His polished bone necklace.
Naoya goes still.
Kusakabe stares.
The bird screams.
Naoya’s eye twitches.
He grunts through his teeth. (Pull me out.)
Kusakabe tilts his head. (What?)
Naoya snarls. (Pull. Me. Out.)
Kusakabe looks around.
No one nearby.
Excellent.
He slowly steps forward and begins picking berries from the branches Naoya is trapped under.
Naoya stares at him.
Kusakabe drops berries into his pouch.
Naoya’s face darkens.
Kusakabe works faster.
Naoya grunts low. (You will die.)
Kusakabe nods. (After berries.)
Naoya lunges.
The thorns tighten.
He yelps.
Kusakabe has never felt so alive.
By the time he frees Naoya, the pouch is full.
Naoya is scratched.
His ornament is crooked.
A twig sticks out of his hair.
He looks betrayed by nature.
Kusakabe pats his shoulder.
A terrible mistake.
Naoya goes silent.
Kusakabe runs the fastest he has run since yesterday.
Naoya chases him for three body lengths, trips on a root, and hits the ground with a sound that humiliates the ancestors.
Kusakabe does not look back.
He is courting now.
Apparently this requires theft, manipulation, and cardio.
He hates it.
By sunset, you return to the edge of camp with your ugly sweet stick.
Kusakabe returns from the opposite side with scratched arms, a full berry pouch, and flowers tucked under one elbow.
The flowers are black, purple, and white.
Too pretty.
Too arranged.
Clearly stolen.
Suguru’s cult notices first.
A gasp ripples through the bone circle.
Suguru turns slowly.
His eyes land on Kusakabe’s stolen flowers.
His face empties.
Kusakabe freezes.
Suguru grunts. (Those shrine flowers.)
Kusakabe grips the bouquet.
Looks at you.
Looks at Suguru.
Calculates distance.
Escape paths.
Funeral probability.
Then he lifts the berries and flowers toward you.
You stare.
Your eyes widen.
Kusakabe looks away immediately. (For mate.)
The tribe goes silent.
A bird screams in the distance.
Naoya limps into camp behind him, covered in scratches, murder in his eyes.
He points at Kusakabe. (THIEF. COWARD. BUSH DEMON.)
Kusakabe does not react.
He is busy dying of embarrassment.
You take the berries and the flowers.
You sniff them.
Suguru’s cult whimpers.
Suguru’s feral mate, crouched beside him, grins with berry juice on her chin. (Good steal.)
Suguru closes his eyes like a priest losing funding.
You press the flowers to your chest.
Then shove your gift at Kusakabe.
The sticky lump wobbles on its twig.
Kusakabe stares.
It is red.
Gold.
Sticky.
Possibly alive.
He squints. (What this?)
You puff up. (Sweet stick.)
Kusakabe blinks.
You hold it closer. (For mate hands. No bite dirt. Eat sweet.)
He looks at your fingers.
Sticky.
Scraped.
Burned a little from warm stone.
You made this.
For him.
Because his hands hurt.
Because he dug you out.
Because he said no mouth on wound and you listened.
Kusakabe’s chest does the stupid thing again.
Worse this time.
He takes the sweet stick.
Carefully.
Sniffs.
Honey.
Berry.
Smoke.
Sap.
You.
He licks it once.
Kusakabe freezes.
Sweet.
Too sweet.
Sticky enough to trap his tongue.
Damn it.
He licks again.
Your whole face lights up.
Gojo clutches Nanami’s arm. (He like.)
Nanami removes Gojo’s hand.
Toji grins. (Atsuya got fed like baby.)
Kusakabe points the sweet stick at him. (I will put this in your eye.)
Sukuna laughs.
Naoya, still picking thorns from his arm, snarls. (That berry belongs to my blood effort.)
You grunt. (Good bush helper.)
Naoya’s face goes blank.
A total collapse of rank.
Kusakabe almost smiles.
Then you take one berry from the pouch and eat it.
You are happy with his berry in your mouth and your flowers against your chest.
Kusakabe looks away too late.
You step closer.
He does not step back.
You lift one berry to his mouth.
Kusakabe glares.
You wait.
Naoya bleeds quietly in the background.
Kusakabe opens his mouth.
You feed him.
He chews.
Tart.
Sharp.
Sweet after.
He hates that you know he likes it.
You grin. (Mate likes.)
Kusakabe grunts. (Sweet stick acceptable.)
You lean closer. (Berries acceptable?)
He looks at the pouch.
At the tribe watching like vultures with no shame.
Then at you.
He holds up the sweet stick.
You hold up the berries.
You bump them together like weapons before a hunt.
A mating courtship.
Apparently.
Kusakabe grunts. (Fine.)
You grin. (Mate.)
He looks away, licking honey from the stick before it drips onto his hand.
Softly, with the smallest surviving shred of dignity, he grunts back. (Mate.)
Gojo screams.
Nanami sighs.
Toji wins three furs from Sukuna.
Sukuna denies ever betting.
Suguru begins rebuilding his shrine with visibly worse flowers.
Naoya sits in the dirt, bleeding, furious, and defeated by fruit.
Higuruma starts carving a law about berry-based exploitation.
Choso asks if anyone wants advice.
Everyone ignores him.
And Kusakabe stands beside you.
Sticky-mouthed.
Scratched.
Chosen.
Still technically free.
He could run.
He takes another lick instead.
Damn it.
You trapped Atsuya with sugar lollipop invention.
A/N: Reader loved him to the point of invention.
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Series Masterlist | Masterlist
Lime green dividers are from @sisterlucifergraphics.
caregiver!Kusakabe x reader headcanons (╥﹏╥) p2
cw: mention of char. death(Yaga), post Shibuya Incident, clueless!Kusakabe, angst, grief, mention of panic attack, mention of depression, fluff
note: missing Yaga hours. just trying to strengthen my alliance with kusakabe girlies. SMAU at the end, as per usual by now. This time, it’s from the character’s pov though!
After the Shibuya Incident, Yaga was among those blamed for the tragedy, or his alleged participation was rather an excuse the higher-ups could use. While you were trying to regroup with the other students and make plans, the principal’s execution was carried out quietly, without causing panic.
Yaga didn’t try to warn you. He knew you’d be reckless enough to actually try to save him. You might even have managed to sneak into where he was held and press your hands against the glass, promising you’d break him out.
He didn’t want to watch you get caught and dragged away while yelling, thrashing, and insulting the higher-ups.
Yaga cared for you like an unofficial parental figure, and he didn’t want to risk your safety. Now, he probably misses his girl so, so much but hopes you won’t meet anytime soon.
Caregiver!Kusakabe is making sure of that.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who doesn’t give a shit about jujutsu politics if he’s honest but Yaga was really close to him, and he owes him anyway.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who thinks Jujutsu High is unsafe for you, not to mention wandering around with all the active colonies nearby. He even sees you wrestling with a non-sorcerer who recently got their technique and foolishly decided to use it outside the colonies.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who just takes you in. Pack your bags, kiddo, you’re coming with me Why? Well… about that…
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who is completely clueless about what people your age need or like. Sure, he’s seen you before, tagging along with Yaga to meetings and missions, forcing everyone in the car to listen to your favorite songs. But witnessing you up close is different. Every action will have a consequences and Caregiver!Kusakabe can’t just say anything anymore. It doesn’t help that you completely fall apart upon hearing the news.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who speaks gruffly but tries to create a welcoming atmosphere. He makes you warm soup and piles pillows in the guest room so you can hide there as long as you want.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who doesn’t sleep during the first week. You’re calm and collected during the day, but when night falls, it’s like your brain switches to dark mode and you spiral. You cry about not knowing what to do, about wanting Yaga back, and Caregiver!Kusakabe suspects you’re having panic attacks. It’s messy and ungraceful. Used tissues all around you, your face is all puffy and your head hurts from crying so much.
At first, he just lies in his bed, listening to your muffled voice from the other room. Even though there’s guilt in him for not doing anything, Caregiver!Kusakabe can’t bring himself to face you like that yet.
Caregiver!Kusakabe’s main concern is you slipping into depression. That’s never a good thing but in the middle of the chaos, it’s even less ideal and could be dangerous. You need to be on top of your game.
“You’re following a routine, right?”
“Do you experience a loss in your interests?”
“We can… talk… or whatever.”
All sentences spoken with discomfort. He tried looking things up on the internet to monitor your mental well-being. Unfortunately, it’s a touchy subject and you tend to push him away.
He has no idea where the line is or exactly what to do, meanwhile, he’s mourning too. An unlucky combo, so he remains careful with what he does.
Caregiver!Kusakabe then finally sits on the edge of your bed at 3 a.m., telling you that you’re unharmed as you curl up and sob. At this point, you’re pretty shameless about it. The uneven breaths, the occasional urge to pull at your hair, the unladylike swearing, you let it all out.
The poor man has no idea what else to say, he’s just trying to reassure both of you. You’re unharmed, you’re unharmed, you’re unharmed…
In a way, he’s made himself responsible for you, so he actually worries about what happens to you. Plus, Yaga would punch him in the afterlife if you got hurt.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who sometimes cannot bear to look at you. For sentimental reasons, you have some of the principal’s belongings. He feels sad and empty seeing you wear a t-shirt that clearly isn’t your size, emblazoned with Yaga’s favourite band logos.
Sometimes your mannerisms reflect his, likely picked up unconsciously. It’s amusing to see a girl your age raise a fist in anger and even more so when she actually punches something.
What wipes the subtle smile off Kusakabe’s face is when you talk like him, too. Excessive cursing, yelling with a rough edge, chewing off the ends of sentences, it’s like talking to a mini-Yaga. Spending time with you breaks and rebuilds him in cycles. One time, when you watch a sports channel with him and argue with the commentator in such a familiar way, it gets too much, and he has to dash to the bathroom.
That shit came out of nowhere. He doesn’t cry but it was a close call.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who sometimes catches you looking at pictures and videos of Yaga on your phone and slowly, awkwardly closes the door to let you be.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who used to prefer being at his sister’s because his apartment was too lonely. But now, with you there, it’s lively.
He takes pictures of your shoes next to his, the books you leave on the kitchen counter, the almost-empty spice jars he barely used before, the finally worn-down pencils. All evidence of your presence. Proof that he’s able to provide safety for you. The picture are sent to Yaga’s phone later, even if no one will look at them anymore.
• Caregiver!Kusakabe, who starts taking the jujutsu bullshit more seriously. Meaning, he doesn’t just stop at taking measurements for himself and his sister, he begins taking more initiative at Jujutsu High and training the students as well.
He’d always had a feeling you wouldn’t be very elegant in your fighting style, likely due to a certain influence. But when he actually sees you spar, throwing punches with no regard for your bones or flesh, he’s more than a little surprised.
Fuck him up, brat.
(╥﹏╥)
(╥﹏╥)all rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications, reposts, or ai feeding. disturbing comments will be deleted. english is not my native language.
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♡ Summary: There isn’t a training manual for raising a kid. Or falling in love. Or surviving the jujutsu world. They’re figuring it out as they go.
Word Count: ~8k
♡ author’s note: this is basically my love letter to kusakabe 😭 i think he deserves so much more love than he gets, and i wanted to write the kind of life i could see him building outside of jujutsu. i hope you enjoy ♡
banner by @pixopix
Atsuya shifts the grocery bag against his hip and knocks on his sister’s door.
“Akari?”
He waits a few seconds before knocking again, harder this time. Still nothing.
“Come on, Akari.”
He pulls the spare key from his pocket. She hasn’t answered any of his calls in three days, but lately that doesn’t always mean something’s wrong. Sometimes she sleeps most of the day and calls him back hours later. Other times she sends a text in the middle of the night saying she was tired and forgot. He always comes over to check on her anyway.
The television is on when he steps inside, but no one is in the living room watching it. Every curtain is closed, even though it’s almost three in the afternoon.
“Akari?”
He closes the door behind him and almost trips over one of Haru’s shoes.
The apartment is worse than it was the last time he was here. Dishes are piled in the sink. Clothes cover the floor beside an overflowing laundry basket. A mug of old coffee sits on the table. Most of the groceries he dropped off last week are still unopened on the kitchen counter.
“Atsuya?”
He turns toward the hallway and sees his nephew, Haru. Haru is standing there in dinosaur pajamas, rubbing one eye. His hair is flat on one side, and there’s a smear of something at the corner of his mouth.
The second the little boy sees him, he smiles. “Uncle Atsuya!”
Haru runs over and throws both arms around his leg. Atsuya sets the grocery bag down before it slips out of his hand and rests his palm on the back of Haru’s head, returning the hug awkwardly.
“Hey, buddy.”
“I knew you’d come.”
Atsuya looks down at him. “Did Mom tell you I was coming?”
Haru shakes his head but doesn’t let go of his leg.
Atsuya glances toward the hallway again. Akari’s bedroom door is almost closed.
“Where is she?”
“In bed.”
“Is she sleeping?”
“I don’t know.”
Atsuya crouches in front of Haru and wipes the spot from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “What did you eat today?”
“Cereal.”
“Anything else?”
Haru thinks about it. “I had two bowls.”
“Two bowls of cereal?”
Haru nods.
“Anything else?”
Haru shakes his head.
“When did you eat it?”
Haru shrugs. “When I watched Pokémon.”
The television is still on in the living room, playing something Atsuya thinks might be Pokémon, though he isn’t sure. That doesn’t answer his question.
He opens the grocery bag and pulls out a pack of crackers. “Here. Eat these while I check on Mom.”
Haru takes them with both hands. “Can I have juice?”
“Yeah. In a minute.”
“Apple juice?”
“Whatever’s in the fridge.”
“The orange kind is gross.”
“Then you can complain while you drink it.”
Haru sighs but climbs onto the couch with the crackers anyway. Atsuya waits until he starts eating before moving down the hallway.
Akari’s bedroom smells stale, like no one has opened a window in days. The curtains are closed, and there’s a plate on the bedside table that looks like it’s been there for a while. She’s lying on her side beneath the blankets with her back to the door.
“Akari.”
She doesn’t move. He steps closer and realizes her eyes are open.
“You planning on answering your phone anytime soon?”
It takes a few seconds for her eyes to shift toward him.
“…Atsuya.”
There’s a full glass of water beside the bed. Her medication bottles are piled beside the lamp. One hasn’t been opened at all, and the others are still completely full.
He picks one up and looks at the label. “Did you take these today?”
Akari turns her face toward the wall, ignoring his question.
“What about yesterday?” he asks.
She still doesn’t answer.
Atsuya sits on the edge of the bed. “Akari, Haru’s been roaming around the apartment by himself.”
Her fingers pick at a loose thread in the blanket, but she stays quiet.
“He said all he’s eaten is cereal.”
“He likes cereal.”
“That doesn’t mean he can live on it.”
She’s quiet for a minute before she whispers, “I heard him.”
Atsuya looks at her. “Haru?”
Her fingers stop picking at the blanket. She shakes her head.
“…Takeru.”
Atsuya opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Akari keeps staring at the wall. “He was laughing.”
Atsuya glances toward the framed picture on the dresser. It’s turned toward the bed. Akari is sitting in the grass with both of her boys beside her, one on either side, smiling at the camera.
“Haru’s been watching cartoons,” he says. “Maybe you heard him laughing.”
She shakes her head. “No. It was Takeru.”
There isn’t anything he can say that won’t make this situation worse. He reaches for the glass of water next to the bed instead, holding it out to her.
“Sit up and drink some of this.”
“…I’m tired.”
“I know, but you need to drink some water,” he says.
She still doesn’t move.
From the living room, Haru calls, “Uncle Atsuya? I ate all the crackers.”
“Okay, buddy. I’ll get you juice in a minute.”
Akari turns her head slightly toward the doorway. Something flickers across her face, but Atsuya can’t tell whether it’s guilt or grief.
“He keeps asking me…” she says.
“Asking you what?”
She pulls the blanket closer around herself instead of answering.
“Akari.”
“…I keep telling him tomorrow.”
Atsuya looks at the old plate, then at the untouched medication bottles. “What is he asking you?”
She doesn’t answer. She only sinks farther into the mattress and turns back toward the wall.
Atsuya sets the glass on the bedside table, still full.
“Akari…” His voice is quieter now. “I don’t know how to help you anymore.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even move. She keeps staring at the wall like she’s looking straight through it.
“Haru needs you,” he says.
The only sign that she heard him is the way her eyes slowly close.
Atsuya sighs and places a hand on her shoulder. “Okay… okay.”
He looks at the medication bottles, the old plate, and the untouched glass of water. Then he glances toward the hallway, where he can hear Haru talking to the television.
He closes his eyes for a second.
Then he gently squeezes her shoulder.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Atsuya steps into the hallway and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through his contacts for a second before pressing call.
It rings a few times.
“…Hello?”
“Utahime.”
There’s a pause.
“…Atsuya?”
“I need a favor.” His voice sounds rough and tired.
“A favor? You never ask for favors.” She pauses, again. “What’s wrong?”
He looks toward the bedroom door. “It’s my sister… I think she needs to go to the hospital.”
“Is Haru with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he okay?”
“He is.”
“And your sister? Is she okay?”
Atsuya looks back toward the bedroom again. “…Not really.”
There’s another brief moment of silence.
“Do you need me to come stay with Haru?”
“If you can’t—”
“You called to ask.” She lets out a quiet sigh. “Of course I’m coming. Text me the address.”
The call ends before he can respond.
Utahime gets there about twenty minutes later. Atsuya opens the door before she has the chance to knock twice.
She takes one look at his face. “…Bad?”
He nods. “Worse than last week.”
She steps inside, setting her bag on the floor. Haru is curled up on the couch, still watching Pokémon.
He looks over. “Who’s that?”
“Utahime.” Atsuya says.
She gives him a small wave. “Hello.”
He waves back before turning his attention back to the television again.
Utahime lowers her voice. “How’s your sister?”
“Still in bed.”
“Talking?”
“Not much.”
“Okay, I stopped at the convenience store.” She opens her bag and pulls out a couple coloring books and a box of crayons. “Figured I’d need something.”
Atsuya huffs out the closest thing he’s managed to a laugh all day. “Thanks.”
She shrugs. “I’ve got him.”
He hesitates. “You sure?”
She gives him a look. “Atsuya. Go do what you need to do.”
“…Right.” He grabs his keys, then turns back to look at her. “If he—“
“I know.”
The drive to the hospital is quiet. Akari spends most of the time staring out the passenger window, with her head leaned against the door. When they get to the emergency department, Atsuya helps her get out of the car and into a wheelchair.
The receptionist looks up. “Are you looking to be evaluated?”
Atsuya looks at Akari. She doesn't answer.
He scratches the back of his neck. “…I don’t really know what’s wrong with her.”
"Does she need to see a doctor?" the receptionist asks.
“Yeah... She does.” He answers.
"Does she have her ID?" the receptionist asks.
Atsuya pulls out a small bag he'd put on Akari's lap. He rummages through it and finds her wallet. "Yeah, here." he says.
She takes the small card from him and types some information into the computer in front of her before handing it back to him. "And what's bringing her to the emergency room tonight?" the receptionist asks.
“My nephew…” He exhales. “He died a couple months ago.”
She looks at him, waiting for him to continue.
“My sister hasn’t really been herself since then...” He looks at Akari again. “She stopped answering the phone. She isn’t taking her medication. She’s barely eating.” He pauses. “She told me today she could hear my nephew laughing.”
“The one who passed away?”
“…Yeah.”
"Okay. Have a seat. We'll call you back for triage." She says before typing something else into her computer.
He says nothing before wheeling her back to sit in the waiting room. He looks around at the mostly empty room. His leg starts bouncing.
Once they're in triage, the triage nurse speaks to Akari first. She places a blood pressure cuff and pulse ox on her while asking basic questions. Akari doesn't respond. The nurse glances at Atsuya.
"What's your relationship to the patient?"
"Her brother."
"What brought her in?"
"My nephew died a few months ago. She's been struggling since then—stopped taking her medication, barely eating or sleeping." He watches the nurse type. "Today she said she heard him laughing."
The nurse nods, typing notes into her computer. "Okay. We're going to get her to a room."
Another nurse comes through the door a few minutes later and takes over pushing the wheelchair.
"Right this way."
He follows behind them through a set of double doors.
The emergency department is louder than the waiting room. Phones are ringing, monitors are beeping, people are talking loudly. There's a police officer standing next to the nurse's station with a paramedic and a very happy looking old man who clearly has had way too much to drink.
They stop outside a room a few feet away from the nurse's station. The nurse wheels Akari in first, then waits for Atsuya to step in before sliding the door shut behind her.
"Can you help her onto the bed or would you like me to?"
"No, I can do it."
Akari barely looks at him while he scoops her up effortlessly and places her gently on the bed. She just curls up into herself as soon as her body settles into the mattress. The nurse raises the handrails on either side of the bed, then wraps a blood pressure cuff on one of her arms and places a pulse ox on one of her fingers. Then she covers Akari with a blanket and hands a small remote to Kusakabe that is connected to the wall.
"This is her call bell. If you need anything please press the red button and someone will be in to help you."
She gestures for him to have a seat in a chair beside the bed.
"I'm Sato. I'll be your sister's nurse tonight."
Akari stares at the wall.
Sato walks around to the side of the bed Akari is facing before crouching beside her.
"Your name?"
"…Akari."
"Date of birth?"
She answers after a few seconds. The nurse types something into the computer mounted beside the bed.
"Why are you here tonight?"
Akari doesn't answer. She just keeps staring at the wall and pulls the blanket higher up to cover most of her face. Sato's eyes shift toward Kusakabe.
"Can you tell me what's been going on?"
"My oldest nephew passed away a few months ago."
She nods and continues typing. "She was seeing a doctor after that?"
"Yes. They put her on medication." He shrugs. "I thought things were getting better."
"Is she taking it?"
"I don't think she is anymore."
"When did you notice a change?"
"A couple weeks ago."
"Has she been eating?"
"Not much."
"Sleeping?"
"Mostly."
"Any alcohol or drugs?"
He shakes his head immediately. "No."
"Thoughts of harming herself?"
"No."
"Harming others?"
"No. She barely says anything anymore."
The nurse types something into the computer, then looks back at him.
"The physician will examine her shortly."
She turns and walks out of the room, sliding the door shut behind her.
The room stays quiet for a while, Atsuya sits in the chair next to the bed. Akari doesn’t move at all, she just keeps staring at the wall. He continues watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
About twenty minutes later, the door slides open again. A man in blue scrubs walks in, followed by a woman pushing a computer on wheels.
“Hi, Ms. Kusakabe. I’m Dr. Patel.”
He pulls a stool over and sits across from her.
“I’m one of the emergency physicians.”
Akari doesn’t respond, but the doctor doesn't seem deterred by it. He asks her a few questions anyway. She softly mumbles answers to the easier ones, like her name. Others she completely ignores. After a few unanswered questions in a row, he turns and looks at Atsuya.
“You’re her brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you tell me what brought her in today?”
Atsuya repeats the story. The unanswered phone calls, the medication she hasn't been taking, finding Haru alone with her still in bed, Akari hearing Takeru laughing. The doctor nods while he listens to his explanation.
“When was the last time she saw the doctor managing her depression?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any medical problems besides that?”
“No.”
“Any previous psychiatric admissions?”
“No.”
The doctor looks back toward Akari.
“I’m going to order some blood work and a few other tests.”
Atsuya frowns. “For what?”
“We want to make sure there isn’t anything medical contributing to what’s going on.”
The doctor stands, and moves towards the door. “After that, I’ll have our psychiatry team come evaluate her.”
“…Okay.”
“I know this has probably been a long day.”
Atsuya lets out a tired breath. “…Yeah.”
"We'll have psychiatry see her as soon as we've completed the medical evaluation." He says, then walks out of the room. The nurse follows behind him, stopping briefly to say, "Let us know if you need anything." Before following behind the doctor and sliding the door shut.
The next couple of hours blur together. A phlebotomist comes in to draw blood. Another nurse asks Akari for a urine sample. Then more silence and waiting.
Atsuya buys a coffee from the vending machine down the hall. It tastes terrible and has coffee grounds floating in it. He drinks it anyways.
The psychiatrist comes into the room shortly after that. She introduces herself before pulling a chair over beside the bed.
“Mr. Kusakabe, I’d like to speak with your sister alone for a little while, if that’s okay.”
“…Yeah.”
He steps back into the hallway and slides the door shut behind him. He finds a chair near the nurses’ station and sits down. He watches people come and go, stretchers being rolled past, and phones ring. Shift change starts. Someone asks if he needs anything, he tells them no.
Then he checks his phone. He has one text from Utahime.
He’s okay. Ate some crackers and is coloring. Don’t worry about us.
Atsuya stares at the screen for a second before locking it again. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Another forty minutes or so go by, when the door to Akari's room finally opens.
The psychiatrist steps out. Atsuya stands up immediately and walks over to her.
“So… what’s going to happen?” he asks.
“We’re going to admit your sister.”
He nods. “…Okay.”
“I think she’d benefit from inpatient treatment.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She folds her hands together.
“We’ll restart the medication she stopped taking and restart therapy while she’s here. Once she’s had some time to stabilize, we’ll have a better idea of what comes next.”
Atsuya rubs a hand over his face. “…She was doing better.”
“So it seemed.”
“And then…” He can’t finish the sentence, he doesn't know how to.
The psychiatrist listens.
“…Her son died.”
“I know.”
“He was eight.”
“I’m very sorry.”
Theres a brief silence before she says, “Losing a child changes people. Sometimes someone looks like they’re starting to move forward, and then the grief catches up with them. If she stopped taking her medication around the same time, that would’ve made things even harder.”
Atsuya nods once. “…She has another son.”
“Haru?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s taking care of him tonight?”
“I am.”
“Is there anyone helping you?”
“Our parents are gone.”
“Their father?”
“He isn’t around.”
She nods.
“Okay. So will you be assuming care for him while she's being treated?"
“…Yeah. I guess so." He looks back toward the closed door. “…Can I see her?”
“You can.”
She steps aside to let him through, "She isn't very responsive right now, but that doesn't mean she can't hear you." She says.
Atsuya looks at her and nods again before thanking her and stepping into the room.
Akari is still laying on her side with the blanket pulled up to cover most of her face. Atsuya can see the faintest wetness on her cheeks from tears she must have let slip past during her discussion with the psychiatrist.
Atsuya pulls the chair closer and sits in front of her. “…They’re going to keep you here for a while.”
She doesn't respond.
“They think they can help.”
She doesn’t even look at him.
He rubs his hands together for a second.
“…Haru’s with Utahime.”
She still doesn't react.
“He’s okay... I’ll bring him to see you if they say it’s alright.”
Her fingers barely tighten around the edge of the blanket.
“I’ll get him ready for kindergarten.”
“I’ll make sure he gets to school.”
“I’ll take care of the bills.”
He lets out a slow breath.
“…You don’t have to worry about any of that.”
She's quiet, and unmoving.
“You just…” His voice cracks faintly, “…Just get better.”
For the first time since he’d found her that morning, Akari looks at him. A single tear slides down her face. Her eyes are clearer than they’ve been all day.
“I’m sorry.” The words are barely a whisper.
He reaches over and squeezes her hand. “You don’t have to apologize.”
She blinks at him, but doesn't say anything else.
“You’re sick.” His voice is quiet. “Let them help you.”
She's quiet but she closes her eyes.
“I’ve got Haru.” He says.
Another tear slips down her cheek. “...I know.”
He gives her hand one last squeeze before standing. "I'll see you soon."
"...Take care of Haru."
"I will."
Then he walks out of the room.
By the time he walks out of the hospital, it’s dark. The parking lot is quieter than it had been that afternoon. Most of the visitors are gone. A few ambulances sit near the entrance.
He unlocks the car and slides into the driver’s seat. The door shuts with a dull thud.
For a while, he just sits there. He doesn't start the car, he just sits with his hands resting on the steering wheel, looking through the windshield with a tired expression.
Tomorrow he'd have to explain everything to Haru. He closes his eyes, just for a minute...
“You know,” Akari said one night while flipping vegetables in a pan, “you’re getting old.”
“I’m thirty four.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t think that’s old.”
“It is if you’re still single.”
He looked over from where he was helping Takeru build a dinosaur out of blocks. “I teach teenagers.”
“So?”
“I get enough children at work.”
Akari laughed. “They’re not your children.”
“They certainly act like it.”
“Telling Miwa to stop apologizing every five minutes doesn’t make you a father.”
“It feels close enough.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’d make a really good dad.”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“You always say that.”
Takeru looked up from the floor. “Uncle Atsuya?”
“What buddy?"
“You put the dinosaur’s head on backwards.”
“…No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Akari laughed so hard she had to lean against the counter.
A horn sounds somewhere across the parking lot. Atsuya blinks and the memory disappears. He starts the car. He has to get back. Haru is waiting for him.
Utahime is sitting on the couch when he gets back. The TV is off now. Haru is asleep on the couch, his head on the armrest. He still has a coloring book next to him with a crayon clutched in his hand.
She looks up when the front door opens. “How’d it go?”
Atsuya closes the door behind him and sets his keys on the counter. “They’re keeping her.”
“For how long?”
“They didn’t say.”
He runs a hand over his face. “They want to restart her medication and therapy.”
“And?”
He shrugs. “They’ll see how she does.”
Utahime is quiet for while. “... I’m sorry.”
“…Yeah.” His eyes drift back to Haru. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“With Haru?”
He nods. “I’ve got classes.” He gestures vaguely toward the window. “If the higher ups decide I need to go somewhere for a week…” He lets out a tired laugh. “What am I supposed to do? Bring a five year old with me?"
Utahime shakes her head. “No.” She stands from the couch and walks towards Atsuya. “…I might know somebody.”
He looks over. “Somebody?”
“A sorcerer.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Not somebody from the school?”
“No. I’ve worked with her a few times.” She says gathering her things. “So has Mei Mei.”
That gets his attention. “Mei Mei?”
Utahime nods. “She worked with her when she was going for Grade One.”
“And?”
“And Mei Mei signed off on her.”
He leans back against the counter. “So she’s good.”
“She’s really good... She works independently now." She pulls her phone out of her bag. "Mostly takes missions wherever they send her.”
“So why would she want this?”
Utahime smiles a little. “Because she’d finally get to unpack.”
He gives her a confused look. “She moves around constantly... Hotels. Temporary housing. Clan estate. She complains about it every time we talk.”
“Clan estate?” he repeats.
“Small traditional clan. They’re… traditional in all the ways you’d expect.”
He understands what she's implying. “They’re trying to marry her off?”
“They’ve been trying.”
“And?”
Utahime laughs. “…Let’s just say she’s not making it easy on them.”
The corner of Atsuya’s mouth twitches upwards into an almost smile. “So you think she’d actually say yes?”
“I think she’d rather live with a tired instructor and his nephew, than endure another month at her clan estate.”
She walks towards the front door putting her bag over her shoulder. “I can call her tomorrow.”
Atsuya looks at Haru again. “…Yeah.”
Atsuya walks over to the couch and carefully slides one arm underneath Haru’s knees and the other behind his back. Haru doesn't stir even a little bit. The coloring book slips onto the floor as Atsuya lifts him up.
“…C’mon.”
Haru lets out a sleepy little sigh and buries his face into Atsuya’s shoulder. He carries him down the hallway, careful not to bump his head on the doorframe. He steps into Haru's room and almost trips over a toy. A dinosaur nightlight glows faintly in the corner. Atsuya sets Haru down on the bed. Haru moves onto his side without opening his eyes. Atsuya kneels to take Haru's socks off. He sets them neatly on the dresser before pulling the blankets back.
“Haru.”
Haru only lets out a sleepy humming noise.
“Let’s get your pajamas on.”
The five year old lifts his arms without saying anything or opening his eyes. It takes a minute to wrestle him out of his T-shirt without waking him up completely. By the time Atsuya pulls the dinosaur pajama shirt over his head, Haru is already nodding off again.
“…Mom?" he mumbles.
Atsuya feels his stomach tighten. “She’s at the hospital, kid."
Haru’s eyes stay closed. “…Okay.”
“They’re helping her.”
Haru just lets out another tired noise. Atsuya tucks the blankets around him.
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Haru doesn’t answer. Within a few seconds, his breathing evens out again. Atsuya stays where he is for another minute, listening to it. Then he quietly turns on the dinosaur nightlight and pulls the bedroom door almost all the way shut.
The apartment is a mess. Not dirty. Just untouched. A bowl of cereal is still sitting on the coffee table. He rinses the bowl and sets it in the dishwasher with the rest of the dishes stacked in the sink. There are clothes in the washing machine that smell like they’ve been sitting there for days. He starts the machine again. The garbage by the kitchen sink is full. He ties the bag shut and carries it outside.
When he comes back in, the apartment is quiet. He walks through the living room picking up crayons one by one. He drops them back into the box and sets it next to Haru’s coloring book. A small backpack hangs from a hook near the front door.
Tomorrow. He’ll figure out tomorrow when it gets here. For now, he finds an extra blanket in the hall closet and lays it across the couch. His back already hurts just looking at it. He doesn’t bother changing out of his clothes. He sinks onto the cushions and leans his head back.
The washing machine continues its cycle somewhere down the hall.
He closes his eyes. Sleep doesn’t come right away. The couch isn’t comfortable. Atsuya figures that out about an hour after he lays down. One of the springs digs into his back every time he moves. He pulls the blanket up anyway. He finally falls into a light sleep, but every little sound has him opening his eyes. The washing machine finishing its cycle. A car passing outside. Haru coughing down the hall.
At some point he gets up to move the clothes into the dryer. When he walks back through the kitchen, his eyes catch on the refrigerator. Crayon drawings. A calendar with appointments written in Akari’s handwriting. One drawing is held up by a magnet.
It's three stick figures holding hands. One is smaller than the other two. Takeru is written above it in uneven blue letters. Atsuya looks at it for a second. Then he opens the refrigerator. There’s enough milk for another day or two. Eggs. Butter. Some leftover takeout that should probably be thrown away. He closes the door.
Near the front entrance, a pair of little sneakers sits next to a much smaller pair.
Haru’s.
Takeru’s.
He kneels down without really thinking about it and lines them up against the wall before standing again.
By the time he lies back down, the apartment is quiet. This time, sleep comes a little easier.
Something bumps into the couch. Atsuya opens one eye. Haru is standing there in dinosaur pajamas, rubbing at his face with both fists. His hair is sticking up in every direction.
“…Morning.”
The little boy blinks at him. “Morning.”
Atsuya checks his phone.
Seven thirty eight.
He sits up, stretching until his back pops. “You hungry?”
Haru nods.
They wander into the kitchen together.
Atsuya opens the pantry. “…Okay.”
He stares inside.
Cereal.
Pancake mix.
A nearly empty box of oatmeal.
He glances down at Haru. “What do you usually eat?”
Haru shrugs. “... Cereal.”
“Cereal it is.”
He grabs two bowls before stopping. “…Do you… drink coffee?”
Haru looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “I’m five.”
“…Right.”
He laughs quietly to himself and puts the coffee mug back in the cupboard.
A few minutes later they’re sitting across from each other at the table. The apartment is still quiet. Haru swings his legs under the chair while he eats. Atsuya picks at his own cereal more than he actually eats it.
Haru looks up. “When’s Mommy coming home?”
The spoon pauses halfway to Atsuya’s mouth. “I don’t know yet.”
“Hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re helping her.”
“…Okay.” He goes back to eating. Like that’s enough of an answer for now.
Atsuya watches him for a second before taking another bite.
Around noon, Utahime pulls into a small coffee shop a few blocks from the school. She parks, shuts the engine off, and stares at her phone for a second. Then she opens her messages.
Utahime:
Do you have time to meet today?
A few seconds pass, then three dots appear.
You:
Depends.
Utahime smiles.
Utahime:
I have something I want to ask you.
She sets the phone on the passenger seat. A minute later it buzzes.
You:
That sounds suspicious.
Utahime:
It probably is.
The clan estate is louder than usual. Voices drift through the open hallway. Someone is setting the dining room table. Someone else is arranging flowers near the entrance.
You step inside, slipping your shoes off at the door. Before you make it halfway down the hall, someone calls your name.
“There you are.”
You stop. Your aunt walks toward you with a neatly folded kimono draped over one arm.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
“I was training.”
“I noticed.”
She looks at your workout clothes before holding the kimono out toward you.
“You’ll need to change.”
You don’t reach for it. “For what?”
She gives you a look. “Dinner.”
“…Dinner.”
“The Fujimoto family is joining us.”
You sigh. “I’ve already met the Fujimotos.”
“Not this branch.”
You close your eyes for a second. “Aunt…”
“They have a son.”
“Of course they do.”
“He recently became a Grade One.”
“I’m happy for him.”
She ignores the sarcasm. “He’s from a respectable family.”
“So am I.”
“Exactly.”
You let out a slow breath. “I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t even met him.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You can’t keep dismissing every introduction.”
“I’m doing a pretty good job so far.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’ll be twenty nine next year.”
“Yeah, I know."
“There are expectations.”
“There always are.”
Another voice joins the conversation before either of you can say anything else. Your older cousin leans against the doorway with his arms folded.
“I told you she wasn’t going to wear it.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” your aunt says.
“I know.”
He looks at you. “You know they’re just going to keep trying.”
“I know.”
“You could at least eat dinner before you scare the poor guy away.”
“That would only waste everyone’s time.”
He laughs, but your aunt doesn't. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out.
“I have to take this.”
Your aunt starts to object.
“It’s work.”
You step out onto the veranda before she can ask another question. The afternoon air is warm.
You:
I can meet.
Utahime:
Coffee? One hour?
You glance back through the open doors. Your aunt is already talking to someone else. Your cousin catches your eye from across the room. He smirks and you hold up your phone. He gives you a subtle thumbs up. You can’t help smiling.
You:
I’ll be there.
You knock lightly against the open office door. “You wanted to see me?”
Utahime looks up from the stack of papers on her desk. “I did.”
She motions toward the chair across from her. “Come in.”
You step inside, closing the door behind you before sitting down.
“So,” you say, leaning back. “What’s so important?"
Utahime is quiet for a second. “I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“It’s… a little unusual.”
That gets your attention. “You know that’s not reassuring.”
“I know.”
She lets out a small breath before continuing. “Do you know Atsuya Kusakabe?”
You think for a moment. “…Kusakabe?”
“The Tokyo instructor.”
“The one without an innate technique?”
“Yeah.”
You nod once. “I know of him.”
“What have you heard?”
You shrug. “Grade One. New Shadow Style. Really good swordsman. Mei Mei speaks highly of him."
Utahime smiles faintly. “Yeah."
“I’ve never actually met him.”
“He teaches in Tokyo.”
“So I’ve heard.”
You tilt your head. “…Why?”
Utahime folds her hands on the desk. “He needs help.”
You frown. “With what?”
Before she can answer, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out of your pocket and look at it.
Mother
You sigh. “…Sorry.”
Utahime waves her hand at you. “Go ahead.”
You answer.
“I’m with someone.”
“We’re having guests this evening.”
“…Okay.”
“I expect you home before six.”
You close your eyes for a second. “…Mom.”
“The Zen’in family accepted the invitation.”
You already know where this is going. “So?”
“Naobito-sama will be joining us.”
“…And?”
“His son will be accompanying him.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m busy.”
“You're always busy.”
“I have work.”
“You always have work.”
“Mom.”
“This opportunity won’t present itself forever.”
You let out a quiet sigh. “…I have to go.”
You end the call before she can keep going, and she definietly would have. You set your phone face down on the desk.
Utahime waits a second before speaking. “…Still trying?”
You laugh bitterly. “When are they not?”
“I figured.”
You shake your head. “I swear, if I spend one more dinner listening to someone tell me what an honor it would be…”
You trail off, rubbing your temple.
Utahime smiles.
“So.” You lean forward again. “You were saying.”
She nods. “Kusakabe. He needs help.”
You wait for her to get to the point.
“He has temporary custody of his five year old nephew.”
You furrow your brows. “…Temporary?”
“His sister was admitted to the hospital yesterday.”
The smile disappears from your face. “…Oh.”
“She isn’t doing well.”
You look down for a second before looking in her eyes again. “…How’s the little boy?”
“Scared.”
You nod slowly. “…Yeah.”
“Kusakabe teaches. If the higher ups send him on a mission, he has no one to stay with Haru.”
She's quiet as she looks up at you from her desk. “…And you thought of me.”
“I did.”
You sit quietly for a second, thinking. Utahime doesn’t rush you. She already knows you’re thinking it through. “…How long?” you ask.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “The doctors couldn’t give him a timeline.”
“A week?”
“I don’t know.”
“A month?”
“I don’t know.”
She gives you an apologetic look. “They really couldn’t say.”
You tilt your head slightly. “So this isn’t a babysitting job.”
“No.”
“It’s… however long it takes.”
“Pretty much.”
You look down at your hands. “And Kusakabe?”
“What about him?”
“Is he expecting someone to move in with him?"
“He knows I was going to ask around.”
You let out a quiet hum. “Does Haru know?”
“No.”
“What would I actually be doing?”
Utahime leans back in her chair. “Helping with the things Kusakabe can’t always be there for. Getting Haru ready in the mornings. Picking him up after school. Being with him if Kusakabe gets called away on a mission.” She smiles slightly. “And reminding Kusakabe to eat once in a while probably wouldn’t hurt.”
That gets a small laugh out of you. “I’ve heard he isn’t exactly organized.”
“That’s putting it nicely.”
You think about the little boy.
Five years old.
His mother in the hospital.
“…I’d like to meet them.”
Utahime looks up. “Both of them?"
“I don’t think it’s fair to agree before I know if Haru is comfortable around me... And…” You hesitate. “I’d rather Kusakabe decide for himself if he wants me to be the one to do it."
Utahime nods. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll talk to him first.” She reaches for her phone. “If he’s alright with meeting, I’ll give you his number.”
You smile. “So I don’t have to pop into Tokyo to see him?"
She laughs. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll wait for your text.”
Utahime unlocks her phone. “I’ll let you know what he says.”
You stand up and grab your phone. “…Thanks... For thinking of me.”
Utahime looks up from her phone. “I thought of you because I trust you.”
The smile on your face gets softer, “…I’ll keep my phone on.”
You walk out of her office, before you’ve made it halfway to the stairs, your phone buzzes. You glance down instinctively.
Mother.
You sigh. “…Figures.”
You slip the phone back into your pocket without answering and keep walking.
The dining room is already full by the time get there.
Tatami lines the floor, a long lacquered table set with porcelain cups and small dishes. Your mother greets you with a polite smile that never quite reaches her eyes before directing you toward the empty cushion next to her.
Across the table sat Naobito Zen’in. To his right, Naoya.
He looks exactly like you pictured. Well dressed, composed, and handsome enough to know it. As you sat in your seat, servants began pouring tea. Conversation started almost immediately.
Clan business.
Recent missions.
Politics.
The sort of conversation you learned years ago how to nod to without actually listening to any of it. Your phone vibrated under the table. You slip it from your sleeve just enough to glance at the screen.
Utahime
I spoke with Kusakabe.
I gave him your number, if that’s alright.
A smile forms on your lips.
You type back under the table.
I was wondering how long you’d make him wait.
The reply came almost instantly.
About three minutes.
You huffed a quiet laugh. A second vibration followed before you could lock your phone.
Unknown Number
Utahime gave me your number.
You look down at the screen, then smile. Three dots appear. Disappear. Then appear again.
Utihime
She said you wanted to meet.
Figured introducing myself was less awkward than having a stranger show up at my apartment.
You covered your smile behind your teacup.
You:
That’s debatable.
A few seconds passed.
Kusakabe:
I guess it depends on the person.
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh from coming out.
You:
I’m Y/N
Nice to officially meet you.
The response was almost immediate.
Kusakabe:
Kusakabe
You stare at the message. Then type before you could overthink it.
You:
That’s all I get?
The three dots blinked.
Kusakabe:
What else were you expecting?
You:
At least one fun fact.
Long enough passed that you wonder if he was done with this conversation. But finally-
Kusakabe:
I have a five year old asleep in the next room.
I don’t have any fun facts today.
You smile into your tea again. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but that somehow made it funnier.
You:
Then tomorrow.
I’ll collect one in person. Lol.
Kusakabe:
That sounds like homework.
Your grin widens.
You:
You teach. Lol.
Aren’t you supposed to like homework?
The reply took longer this time.
Long enough that you imagined him staring at the screen not knowing what to say back. Then-
Kusakabe:
I'm not a good teacher.
A laugh escapes before you can stop it.
“…Something amusing?”
Your head snaps up. Naoya is looking at you. He doesn't look irritated, just curious. Everyone else has gone quiet.
“Oh.” You slip your phone back under the table. “Sorry. I was answering a message.”
Your mother’s fingers settle lightly against your knee under the table. Not enough to hurt you, just enough pressure to remind you where you are. A warning.
You glance sideways towards her. She doesn't look at you. She just continues speaking with Naobito as though nothing happened. You understood what she meant anyway.
You bow your head slightly. “My apologies.”
The phone disappears back into your sleeve. When you look up again, Naoya is still watching you. A small smile on the corner of his mouth.
“So,” he said, turning his attention back to you instead of the discussion around the table. “You work with Utahime-san?”
Your mother relaxes, satisfied you’d finally put your phone away.
You offer Naoya a polite smile. “Occasionally.”
“I’ve heard you’re quite talented.”
“People exaggerate.”
“I’ve found they usually don’t.”
For the first time that evening, he had your full attention. Not because you were impressed. Just because it would’ve been rude not to answer.
Dinner stretches well past sunset. Conversation shifts from politics to family histories, then circles back again. Naoya proves exactly what his reputation suggests. Confident. Well-spoken. He has an opinion on nearly everything, and, whether intentionally or not, manages to steer the conversation toward you again.
“So,” he says, setting his cup down. “Utahime-san mentioned you’ve been taking on independent contracts.”
You nod. “A few.”
“Mostly alone?”
“When I can.”
“Hm.”
His eyes linger on you for a second. “I imagine that’s difficult.”
“It has its moments.”
“I’ve heard your technique is impressive.”
You smile politely. “I’ve heard yours is fast.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “So you’ve heard of me.”
“It’s a small world.”
He seems pleased by that answer. Before he can continue, Naobito redirects the conversation toward recent activity along the western prefectures, and Naoya lets it go.
The moment the servants come to collect plates and prepare for dessert, your mother turns to speak to one of your aunts. No one is paying attention to you anymore. Perfect.
You excuse yourself quietly. “I’ll be right back.”
The hallway is cool after the warmth of the dining room. You barely make it around the corner before pulling your phone from out of your sleeve.
Two unread messages.
Kusakabe:
Sorry.
Haru woke up.
A minute later—
False alarm.
Without thinking, you smile.
You:
That’s okay.
Is he alright?
The reply comes fast.
Kusakabe:
Bad dream.
Went back to sleep.
You lean against one of the wooden pillars.
You:
How are you doing?
This time there’s a longer pause.
Long enough that you almost wonder if he won’t answer.
Kusakabe:
Still awake.
You laugh softly.
You:
I noticed. Lol.
Kusakabe:
You laugh a lot over text.
You smile again.
You:
Is that a complaint?
Kusakabe:
Just an observation.
Hard to tell if I’m actually funny.
You bite your lip.
You:
I don’t think you’re trying to be.
Kusakabe:
Is that a good thing?
A quiet laugh escapes you.
You:
I think so.
Several seconds pass.
Kusakabe:
We should meet.
Lunch works if you're free tomorrow.
You pause.
You:
Where?
Kusakabe:
There's a park across from Haru's kindergarten.
It's easier if I stay nearby.
You stare at the message for a second.
You:
That works.
Three dots appear.
Kusakabe:
I'll try to figure out that homework for you.
You laugh outright this time.
You:
Thought you hated homework?
You glance up.
Your cousin is standing a few feet away, one shoulder resting against the frame of the hallway entrance. He looks between you and your phone.
“…You’re smiling.”
“Am I?”
“You are.” He folds his arms. “So.”
You slip your phone against your chest. “So?”
“Who is he?”
You pretend to be confused. “Who?”
“The man making you smile at your phone.”
“I never said it was a man.”
“You didn’t have to.” He smirks. “If it were one of your friends, you’d have told me already.”
You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “You’re annoying."
“So I’m right.”
“You make a lot of assumptions.”
“I usually end up being right.”
Before you can answer, footsteps echo farther down the hall. Naoya rounds the corner, hands tucked loosely into the sleeves of his haori. “There you are.”
Your cousin glances between the two of you. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He walks off wearing an annoying shit eating grin. Naoya watches him disappear before looking back at you. “I was starting to think I’d offended you.”
You put your phone back in your sleeve. “Hm?”
“You’ve spent most of the evening trying not to look at me.” His tone is light, almost amused.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“No?”
“You had my attention.”
“For about five minutes.”
You can’t help but smile. “I was answering a message.”
“A rather entertaining one, apparently.”
“It was.”
He looks at you for a second. “So. Who is he?"
You tilt your head. “Assuming it’s a man?”
“If it wasn’t,” he says smoothly, “you wouldn't have run out here to finish texting."
You laugh. “I don’t remember saying you were wrong.”
“No.” His smile widens just enough to notice. “You didn’t.”
He waits. Clearly expecting an answer.
“He’s someone I’m meeting tomorrow.”
“A sorcerer?”
“Mhm.”
“I know him?”
“I don’t know.”
You offer him one last polite smile before stepping around him. “Goodnight, Naoya-san.”
He turns to watch you walk away. "Goodnight."
He realized, as he watched you disappear around the corner, that he'd never learned the other man's name.
characters: Kento Nanami, Hiromi Higuruma, Atsuya Kusakabe, Shiu Kong
warnings: none
a/n: this is short but I’m studying for my tests and this idea came up in my head, there will be a part 2 soon with more characters :)
Hiromi Higuruma
At home proposal
Hiromi is a simple and private man, therefore he proposes to you in the privacy of your home. He doesn’t like making things a big deal but for your proposal he would definitely try his hardest to make it special.
It was a Saturday and you had gone out to run some errands. While you were out, Hiromi was decorating your home with rose petals and candles. He showered, fixed his hair and put on a nice outfit to match the occasion. When you arrive home it’s dark and quiet, you see candles and rose petals on the floor and follow them. Hiromi is standing in your living room with a smile on his face. He takes your hand and leads you to the middle of the room before going down on one knee
“I’m not good with words but I want to wake up every morning next to you, will you marry me?“ Hiromi says and pulls out the ring.
Kento Nanami
Picnic proposal
Like the gentleman Kento is I feel like he would definitely propose to you at a picnic, it’s outdoors but still a little private.
It was a warm day and Kento had planned a surprise for you, you were super excited and waited the entire day to see what it was. He drove you to the location and you were stunned at the scenery, it was a flower field. He took your hand and walked you through the field. You eventually saw the picnic he had set up and as you arrived you saw that in the little basket he had brought, all your favorite foods were inside. You praised him for remembering all your favorite snacks and foods. As you where eating he eventually asked you to stand up, you obeyed and he got on one knee infront of you and took out a little box
“Would you like to be my forever person and grow old with me?”
Atsuya Kusakabe
Hiking and proposing on top of a mountain
One thing about Kusakabe is that he loves doing outdoor activities like fishing or hiking, so it’s no surprise that he would propose to you while hiking.
You two had the weekend off and like usual, your boyfriend Kusakabe wanted to go outside. He had asked you to come along since the hike wasn’t hard and the view would be amazing. You agreed since spending time with him was hard with his work schedule. The two of you drive to the start of the trail and begin walking. You walk for about an hour before reaching the top of the mountain. You two enjoy the view as you catch your breaths after walking all the way up. You sit down at a bench and relax, but all of the sudden your boyfriend gets down on one knee infront of you
“Would you like to be my hiking partner for the rest of our lives?” he says as he pulls out a box with a ring inside.
Shiu Kong
Beach proposal
Shiu wanted the proposal to be special, so he decided to do it on a private beach where it’s was pretty and private during the big moment.
He just said that he was taking you to the beach and to bring everything you would need. You didn’t think much of it since it was summer so you just packed everything and got in the car. When you two arrive the sun is starting to come down and the beach is beautiful. Shiu guides you down to the sand. As you’re enjoying the scenery, your boyfriend Shiu gets down on one knee. You turn to look at him and he says
“Would you like to spend the rest of our lives together?“ while holding the ring.
this scene is what made me fully fall in love with kusakabe. i bawled my eyes out 😭
would anyone be interested in a slow-burn kusakabe x reader series where his sister had another son, and reader becomes the live-in caregiver helping him raise his surviving nephew?
