Chapter Text
Inumaki Toge is, by nature of his controversial birth, not so great with words. His near muteness, more of an instinct than a conscious choice by the time he starts at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical High School, is more of a limitation in the classroom than anywhere else. Being a jujutsu sorcerer demands improvisation, after all, and just because he isn’t inclined to speak doesn't mean his vocabulary is stunted.
So when Gojo Satoru casually asks how Toge would describe Okkotsu Yuuta, the newest student in his first-year class, it only takes him a few beats to answer: “Tsuna.” Haunted.
“Hm. He does sort of have a ghost on his shoulder, doesn’t he?” Gojo replies, his legs kicked up on his desk at the front of the empty classroom. He’d asked Toge to stay behind after dismissing the others– allegedly, for help on the day’s crossword puzzle.
Inumaki was the closest thing to well-read of the three (now four) first years– Maki spent all her free time training, and Panda was a panda. At a glance it makes sense for Gojo to ask Inumaki for a word or two, but knowing his sensei, there’s always some ulterior motive or looming lesson to be learned from his antics. His eyes drift to the open window behind his teacher, where the sunlight is just beginning to rust with the approaching evening.
“Takana?” he asks, excited to return to his dorm and lie down in bed until dinnertime. Is that all? He’d already met his training quota with Maki that morning, and his school work was finished since he usually did it during Gojo’s self-absorbed lectures.
“Not quite,” Gojo mumbles, somehow picking away at the crossword with his eyes still covered by a white linen blindfold. He completes a column before tossing the newspaper and pen haphazardly onto the desk, leaning back in his chair with a smile. “Listen, Inumaki-kun. I need to ask a favor. Yuuta will be shadowing Maki on a mission tomorrow to get his feet wet. I think she’ll be a good start for him, but between you and me, the kid has some serious power. He might even be as strong as me one day. So since you're the highest-ranked sorcerer among the first years, and the most responsible, and my favorite, I want to ask you to keep an eye on Okkotsu-kun.”
Toge blinks twice, all too wary of feeding into his sensei’s massive ego by instantly agreeing. Also, Gojo’s favorite is definitely not Toge– it’s whoever he’s asking for a favor at the moment. “Takana?” Do I have to?
“Of course! Unless you want me to flunk you and make you retake your first year!”
“Mentaiko,” he says. You’re bluffing.
“Nope!”
“Tsunamayo…” C’mon, Gojo-sensei…
“Inumaki-kun,” Gojo says through a smile, “it’s not like you’re busy doing anything else.”
“Tsuna.” Damn. That’s cold.
Gojo laughs him out of the classroom, and that’s how Inumaki ends up on his way to the dorms with Okkotsu Yuuta on his mind. The young, terrified, nervous wreck of a boy with a mop of black hair and eyebags to match. Watching over his fellow first year who’s been unceremoniously catapulted into jujutsu society was easy enough— it’s what they all did for each other anyway. What gave Inumaki pause, though, was the question of power. If Gojo believed in Okkotsu’s strength, what help could Inumaki possibly be to his development? If the rumors are true and the new kid is not only special grade, but also older than Inumaki by a few months, then why on earth would he listen to a mute cursed speech user with an attitude problem? Was this their sensei’s way of politely suggesting Inumaki needs more tutelage himself, and shadowing his inexperienced classmate was the best option?
The wooden hallways and concrete courtyards of campus disappear under him as he walks back to his dorm room. He gives up on guessing Gojo’s motives— always a losing game— and falls into his bed with a blissful sigh. The haunted, sleepless face of the other boy passes through his mind, but nothing on this side of a long nap could possibly matter.
***
Maki and Okkotsu limp back to campus the next evening, both wounded but alive. The story goes that Okkotsu’s special-grade cursed apparition, Rika, destroyed a curse that was much higher level than the briefings had initially stated. Either way, Inumaki is quick to search for Maki in Ieiri’s basement infirmary as soon as she wakes up, intent on asking for details. Only Maki isn’t there when he arrives. Ieiri, looking as bored as ever, relays that she tried to stop the fiery girl from training so soon after her treatment, but eventually gave up.
Inumaki finally finds her in one of the indoor training rooms, sweating hard as she attempts to swing a bo staff around with half as much precision as usual. There’s no way she doesn’t notice his entrance, so he leans against the door frame, arms crossed, waiting for her to finish her combination.
She turns to him, chest heaving and fog on the lenses of her glasses. “One word about bedrest, and I’ll shove this polearm up your ass.”
Inumaki smiles underneath his scarf, raising his hands in surrender. “Sujiko.” Don’t threaten me with a good time.
Maki just rolls her eyes, jerking her head as an invitation to enter. Before he’s fully slipped off his shoes and stepped onto the tatami mat floor, a second training staff is coasting through the air towards him in a gentle arc. He catches it, twirling it easily in his hand. “Spar with me,” she says.
“Okaka,” he replies. I’m too short for polearms.
“And I’m at half strength anyway. Don’t tell me you’re scared?”
“Mentaiko.” Maybe I just don’t wanna win against someone injured.
She smirks. “Or maybe you don’t wanna lose against someone injured.”
When she charges him, he’s able to react in time for once. Given her lack of a cursed technique, Zen’in Maki is far and away the best physical fighter at Jujutsu Tech. But even she isn’t immune to the dangers of sorcery and the exhaustion brought about by reversed cursed technique treatment. He keeps pace with her flurry of blows for a few moments until, in her fatigue, she leaves herself open. Inumaki sneaks the butt of his staff under her lower wrist and flicks her weapon from her hands in a single graceful, fluid motion. It’s a trick he learned from her– and she knows it.
“That was luck,” she grumbles, but there’s a budding pride in her tone. Rather than pick the staff up, she collapses onto the ground next to it, sitting cross-legged. Inumaki drops his weapon too, grabbing her water bottle from the edge of the room instead and tossing it to her. She catches it without looking.
“Takana?” How did the mission go?
“Obviously not great if I was injured.”
“Tsunamayo?” Does the new kid suck?
“He’s an idiot,” she says, anger unfettered by her recovery. “He just bumbled around like a limp beansprout until that– that thing emerged and saved us.”
“Sujiko?” Didn’t he carry you out?
“Tch,” she turns her head to the side. “Should we give him a medal for it?”
He smiles under his scarf again. “Tsunamayo.” Sounds like he saved your life.
She points at him. “And it sounds like you want to lose yours.”
His smile widens to his eyes as he leans back on his palms. “Konbu?” What’s his technique like?
“I don’t know. If he has one, he used it while I was out. As far as I’m concerned, until he learns how to swing a sword or control that insane curse of his, he’s a liability.”
Inumaki hums, sympathetic. They were all beginners once, though for clan kids like Maki and him, training started at birth. They had a considerable headstart over Okkotsu, special grade or not.
“Mentaiko.” Gojo-sensei asked me to look after him.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Okaka.” Don’t know.
“Well. You’re probably the most normal one to ask. Panda is… Panda. And I don’t have experience with cursed energy— which mister special grade is apparently rife with.” She crosses her arms.
The concept of Inumaki being considered ‘normal’ almost rips a laugh out of him, but instead he says: “Ikura?” You want babysitting duty?
“No,” she says. “Okkotsu and I aren’t a good match. He needs a softie. Unless you think you’re gonna be tougher on him than I would?”
“Okaka. Tsunamayo.” No way. No one’s tougher than you, Maki.
“Damn right,” she says, jutting out her chin. “If you do get stuck with him next, good luck.”
Inumaki just shrugs. “Ikura?” Did Ieiri-san clear you?
The looks she gives him in reply is enough of an answer. “It wasn’t even that bad. I can’t stay cooped up in the basement. There’s work to do.”
“Okaka.” You can barely swing your staff.
She narrows her eyes at him, hand falling around her bo staff where it lies on the floor. “Wanna bet?”
“Okaka.” Not really.
“Best two out of three.”
“Konbu.” If I win, you go back to bed.
“Fine. And if I win, you’re stuck with Okkotsu next time Satoru tries to dump him on me.”
Inumaki pictures himself exorcising curses with one hand on his scarf and the other shielding a frightened, sniveling Okkotsu and cracks a smile. “Shake,” he says. Deal.
Obviously, in her reduced state, Inumaki defeats her swiftly and sends her off to bed, promising to clean up the training room. He doesn’t mention the protein bar and glass of juice he snuck onto her nightstand, waiting patiently for her to discover them. She won’t thank him. She never has to. That was their way as friends and as sorcerers— few words and no redundant truths. Once the training weapons are put away, he sets out to find and bother Panda.
***
As soon as she’s cleared for training and missions again, Maki wrangles all the first years onto the training pitch, intent on whipping Okkotsu into shape despite his rocky start. She’s always stern about training, but predictably, she comes down especially hard on the new kid. He takes it in stride, though, having found some sort of conviction between the beginning of that mission with Maki and this morning. He’s desperate for approval– Gojo’s, Maki’s, Rika’s, who knows– which is a dangerous feeling to nurture as a sorcerer. But as he goes back and forth with Maki, Panda keeping score, it’s clear that he’s fighting for himself, too. If he’s learned anything, it’s that the tip of Maki’s polearm fucking hurts when it slams into your face at full speed. Inumaki had to learn that too, once.
At some point Panda interrupts the match to pull Okkotsu off to the side. Whatever he says makes the new kid blush profusely, rubbing his chin as he replies. Panda almost jumps for joy then, calling to Maki with enthusiasm. “Maki! You have a chance!”
The moment the words fly across the pitch, something sharp and crystalline catches the light inside Inumaki’s head, blinding him. He ignores the way Maki pounces on Panda while Okkotsu watches awkwardly, focused instead on the hollow pinprick of something in his head that follows his breath hitching.
As students of Jujutsu Tech, and especially as students of Gojo, their lives are dominated by battle, and if they aren’t fighting for their lives, they’re preparing to fight for their lives by fighting each other. Sure, they attend classes and practice academics like any other students, but that’s about where the resemblance to a normal high school stops.
They don’t have clubs or student presidents or hall passes or a school dance. There’s no explosive drama over who gets to sit where in class or who gossiped behind their friend’s back. They’re students, sure, but not really high schoolers. They're jujutsu sorcerers.
So when Panda, still enduring a pummeling from Maki, had called out suggestively about her chances with Okkotsu, Inumaki realized that while they might not be high schoolers, they were definitely teenagers. And teenagers catch feelings and develop crushes and make stupid choices.
Maki and Okkotsu getting together would definitely be a stupid choice, Inumaki is certain. But no matter how much he turns that glass shard in his head, it never shines on the reason why he knows Gojo would stop their relationship before it went too far. Wouldn’t he?
There was unfortunately no precedent to say for certain. He had spent his entire life kept close to his family, behind the walls of his clan’s estate. He’d never been positioned to consider romance for himself or for others. Even once he arrived at Jujutsu Tech, freed for the first time in his life, he felt no impulse to go looking for love. Maki was more like a sister to him, and that had been the only option.
Now, though, Okkotsu had stumbled in and voided a treaty Inumaki hadn’t even known was drawn. A romance between sorcerers wasn’t just impractical, it was dangerous. Surely Gojo or even Principal Yaga would shut it down as soon as they heard about it. Surely—
“Inumaki-kun?”
Okkotsu stands sheepishly before him, outlined by the afternoon sun. He grips the back of his neck with both hands interlocked. “Um… I think we’re all going to get some food, if you wanna join…”
When Inumaki takes a second too long to reply, disarmed by the sight of the shy, shimmering boy, Okkotsu points gingerly to the stop of the stairs where Panda and Maki are waiting.
“Shake,” Inumaki says, dragging his feet up the steps and looking anywhere but at the boy behind him. Let’s go.
***
Their mission at Hapina Shopping Center is all the answer Inumaki needs to the question of Okkotsu’s potential. The mission is smooth enough in the first half, wherein Okkotsu sees cursed speech in action for the first time. Inumaki braces for the fear and disgust with which most people regard his technique, but standing among the ashes of the swarm of low grade curses Inumaki has exorcised with a single command, Okkotsu is nothing short of astounded. Inumaki would laugh, if they weren’t immediately and inexplicably ambushed by a much stronger curse in the next moment.
He tries to exorcise that, too, but the feedback in his throat is staggering, even from a simple command. Before he can finish the first bout of coughing Okkotsu has scooped him up with surprising strength and whisked them to relative safety. When Okkotsu apologizes– as if the random appearance of a powerful cursed spirit was somehow his fault– that’s when Inumaki realizes just how out of his depth Okkotsu probably feels. Here is this new kid with no one but Inumaki to protect him as he tries to battle curses without guidance or a technique, and all he can imagine are the ways in which he’s slowing Inumaki down.
It’s an easy decision. Inumaki resigns to exorcize the curse himself or die in the attempt. For Okkotsu to lose his life here when he hasn’t even had the chance to grow into the sorcerer Gojo supposedly sees in him would be a massive waste. That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he walks towards his doom.
But, as Maki learned on their mission together, Okkotsu Yuuta is full of surprises. Shaken by Inumaki’s attempt to spare him, the new kid comes alive. Determination flares in him as he promises to fight by Inumaki’s side, and before long, the offending cursed spirit is exorcised. As their high-five sounds across the empty mall, Inumaki feels a hint of pride in his inexperienced, blubbering, special grade classmate.
He tries not to think about why. It’s not like Inumaki was in a position to be judging Okkotsu– if anything, Okkotsu’s role in the mission was to have his mettle tested by Gojo and the higher-ups. Yet a pleasant buzz settles in Inumaki’s stomach at the idea of having taught the new kid a thing or two. Maybe that was Gojo’s plan all along.
In the car ride back to campus, he thinks Okkotsu’s analysis was ultimately correct— the two made a good team. The training Okkotsu had undertaken in the scant few months since his debut mission with Maki had done him good. One thing was certain: Okkotsu was not the new kid anymore. He had the makings of a jujutsu prodigy, perhaps even a second to Gojo Satoru.
Okkotsu’s squeaky voice pitches up and down, high on adrenaline as he relays to Ijichi the play-by-play of the mission like a school boy discussing a wrestling match: “And then Inumaki-kun was like, ‘Explode!’ And the curses actually exploded—“ Inumaki tunes it out, watching the city streak by in blurs of neon and carbon.
He supposes he’ll have to teach Okkotsu how to file a proper mission report, too. It’s a growing list.
***
After that mission, Okkotsu is more or less fully integrated into the first year class. He still has trouble translating Inumaki’s onigiri language on the fly, but Maki and Panda are almost always around to help him out. Inumaki wouldn’t necessarily call Okkotsu his friend, but he’s only really had two friends prior, and neither of them are as quick to wear their hearts on their sleeves like Okkotsu is. The safe and smart thing to do is keep his distance and watch over Okkotsu from afar, offering support and a healthy amount of teasing on the training pitch and in the classroom.
He’s certain that the quirky skip in his pulse whenever Okkotsu is around has to do with the copious amounts of special grade cursed energy his classmate possesses, and nothing more. Wanting to be closer to someone is not a luxury a cursed speech user can afford, and even if it was, he has no reference for that feeling and how it would manifest in his daily life at Jujutsu Tech. For his part, Okkotsu is polite and kind in a way most sorcerers forgo. He extends that kindness to Inumaki in a thousand little ways, and Inumaki does his best to ignore it.
After all, Inumaki Toge was raised by serpents. The snake eyes and fangs that adorn his mouth, the cause and the cost of his power, are proof enough of that. And serpents are predators, killing machines, the visage of evil the world over. He was enrolled at Jujutsu Tech to serve as a sorcerer and absolve himself of his accursed heritage. He knew was simply a weapon and a monster, redeemed only by each desperate attempt to shed the skin he’d been born with.
For the most part, he unhinged his jaw and swallowed that. He kept his chin buried dutifully in his scarf, bandaged where the chafing had drawn blood. He spoke in onigiri ingredients and never vocalized his laughter. He conditioned his body and strengthened his technique and exorcised curses. He accepted long ago that he’s not here to make friends.
But sometimes, his own curse fell weighty on his shoulders and he would buckle under it, feeling a burning sorrow in his gut. The world around him would become raw and loud and too alive. It became everything he wasn’t. On those days he was obligated to slither away from it quietly, disturbing no one on his way out.
Today is one of those days. He has a spot on the roof of the boy’s dorm that he’s pretty sure no one but Tengen knows about. Two shingled gables come together like tectonic plates, creating a shaded triangle where Inumaki likes to tuck himself away. It’s high enough that no one in the school building opposite the dorm can easily spot him, and far enough away from everything else that it’s always quiet.
The spot brings him comfort. He lays his temple against the bare, warm wood of the supports and tries to breathe in rhythm with the wind. This school is, he knows, just another prison. But as a pair of birds fly by in front of him, dancing on the world’s breath, he concedes that it's a better cage than before.
A long while passes until he hears voices echoing up from below him. Despite the intrusion, he strains to hear them better. It’s Okkotsu and Maki, either in the hallway under him with a window open, or in the courtyard directly below.
“… I was wondering how long it would take,” Maki is saying.
“What?”
“Until you wanted to quit.”
“I don’t— I’m not—!”
“Uh huh. So you’re just sitting here crying for no reason?”
A pause, and then: “I’m crying for Rika-chan.” Maki is probably disarmed by that. She’s not the comforting type. It’s silent until Okkotsu speaks again. “I’m allowed to mourn her,” he says, and Inumaki can imagine the flat, unimpressed look on Maki’s face that prompted his indignity.
“Mourning her won’t bring her back. And it won’t break the curse. Neither will giving up,” she says.
“Do— do you think I should quit?”
“No,” Maki says quickly. “No. But I think every minute you waste feeling sorry for yourself is a minute you need to spend training.” Another pause, and then: “We all have days like this, Yuuta. But you’ve been here for three and a half months now. It’s time to overcome it.”
Inumaki would drop his jaw if he were in the conversation. He’s never heard Maki even try to emotionally connect to any of them with her words like that. The gravity of it is lost on Okkotsu, who barrels on. “I’m trying, Maki-san. But I’m not like you and Inumaki-kun. You guys aren’t scared of anything.”
The cursed speech user pauses in the middle of breathing at the sound of his name on Okkotsu’s lips, but before he can dissect his reaction Maki replies sternly. “Because we’re strong. And you’re apparently even stronger. You already have everything you need.”
“Not until her curse is lifted.”
“And are you gonna do that by whining about it? Is that what she’d want?” He doesn’t answer. She continues, “You wanna be like us? Then toughen up.”
“Why are you being so hard on me?” He asks miserably.
She says it like it’s obvious, like she knows Okkotsu can’t detect that unusual tenderness in and around the words: “I want you to be better, at any cost.”
Inumaki Toge was raised by serpents, so he knows the sound of a silver snake tongue. He knows what someone sounds like when they lie, and now that he’s free of the liar’s den he grew up in, he knows that some people had a hard time lying at all. Maki is one of those people, and Inumaki knows that what she just said to Okkotsu is not a lie. It might even be the most honest she’s ever been. So, moved by a hollow, bottomless gut and the stinging behind his eyes, he decides that the rest of their conversation isn’t something he should be privy to.
As he sneaks back to his room, he understands the spike of adrenaline thumping in his chest like he just got away with a crime. What he doesn’t understand— nor bother to interrogate— is the cool-blooded anger that follows it, dripping like venom into his muscles as he slithers into bed.
***
Okkotsu Yuuta has been added to the group.
Zen’in Maki
I’m adding Yuuta to the chat.
Panda
Hooray! Welcome Yuuta!!
welcome to hell
Zen’in Maki
Oh shut up.
Okkotsu Yuuta
Hi
So what is this chat usually used for?
good question…
texting each other maybe?
Zen’in Maki
Ignore that.
Okkotsu Yuuta
Haha
I just meant like is there important mission stuff in here I should watch out for?
I don’t wanna fall behind
scroll thru the media tab for important mission stuff
Panda
NO!!
Zen’in Maki
Dude.
Panda
SO MEAN!!!
Okkotsu Yuuta
Ewww
What the fuck is that
Why are you guys sending pictures like that
What if Gojo-sensei sees
Zen’in Maki
Satoru’s the one who took the picture.
you should be more worried that you just used a bad word mr. special grade
im telling Gojo
Okkotsu Yuuta
Oh fuck please don’t
Panda
LOL!
Okkotsu Yuuta
I’m seriously nauseous guys like what the hell
Zen’in Maki
You’re gonna be seeing much worse than that as a sorcerer.
Panda
It’s true! Gojo sent that to us to try and scare us
but now we use it as a reminder of our bravery!
contrary to that disgusting optimism
i use it for the irony
Zen’in Maki
You do everything for the irony.
:P
Zen’in Maki
Anyways.
We just use this chat to hang out and keep each other updated.
Anything important will be delivered by an assistant manager or Gojo-sensei.
Okkotsu Yuuta
Okay cool
Could everyone say their name real quick so I can save your contact information?
their name
Panda
Their name!
Zen’in Maki
Their name.
Okkotsu Yuuta
Guys…
Panda
You should guess who’s who, it’ll be like a fun game!!
Okkotsu Yuuta
Um
I don't know about that…
What if someone gets upset?
Zen’in Maki
There is literally nothing you could say that would upset me.
its true
ive tried
Panda
GUESS YUUTA!!
Okkotsu Yuuta
Okay
You must be Panda because you’re the only happy one
Panda
GOOD GUESS YUUTA!!!
Zen’in Maki
I didn’t know your technique was mystery solving.
he’s trying his best
Okkotsu Yuuta
Okay
The person making fun of me is Inumaki-kun and the one defending me is Maki-san?
Okkotsu Yuuta
Guys?
Hello??
Zen’in Maki
You really are a dumbass beansprout.
shake
Okkotsu Yuuta
I’m sorryyyy
Panda
Yikes!
But at least Maki’s chances are even higher!
Okkotsu Yuuta
Chances at what?
Zen’in Maki
Panda.
Do you want to die?
lmfaoo
You started a private chat with Zen’in Maki.
i guess i owe the new kid an apology
since apparently im a bully
God.
He’s an idiot.
They both are.
well
is it true?
Is what true?
has the almighty maki fallen for someone?
Oh. So you’re an idiot too.
I thought you were better than this, Toge.
you’re dodging the question
Okkotsu is a braindead fool who can’t do anything but bumble around until his precious Rika-chan bails him out of danger.
Plus we’re jujutsu sorcerers.
We can’t afford distractions like that.
hmm
i see a lot of words
none of them are no
No. Given the circumstances
I obviously don't like Yuuta.
but under different circumstances?
Goodnight Toge.
Hope you don’t wake up.
sweet dreams <3
***
When Inumaki enrolled at Jujutsu Tech, he had assumed they would forgo all academic instruction and focus entirely on honing their sorcery skills. What use had a sorcerer for an intimate understanding of trigonometry or the hard math of mid-century literature? But as it happens, the academic program at the Tokyo school is no less rigorous or demanding than the training in sorcery. Inumaki had learned this in his very first weeks when Gojo surprised them all with a pop quiz about his lessons so far. Maki, Panda and he all failed, having refused to take the strongest sorcerer alive even remotely seriously. So now, in the middle of the term, Inumaki sits in the library he barely knew the school had, studying up on Gojo’s latest lectures about Japanese history. He had taken notes for once, and found that some of the stuff Gojo taught was actually pretty interesting upon review.
The library is not large. It’s honestly more like a dingy room full of books and dusty shelves, lit by a single overhead light and a tiny window on the far wall. In the middle is a single round table with some chairs, a few of which are stacked high with books and scrolls. There’s no librarian as far as he knows; it’s the duty of the students to keep the stacks organized and the space quiet.
He’s in the middle of laughing at his own rudimentary understanding of the Sengoku period (war = bad, he’d written) when a noise behind him disrupts his already lazy focus. He turns to see Okkotsu standing in the open doorway, one hand playing with the hem of his uniform jacket and the other clutching a notebook and pen. The special-grade sorcerer to rival Gojo Satoru is staring wide-eyed at Inumaki like a child caught sneaking cookies by their mother.
Inumaki wants to roll his eyes, but his own hand is moving before he can register it, and then he speaks.
“Konbu.” Hi, he says with a wave.
“Hello, Inumaki-kun,” Okkotsu says, timid.
Inumaki winces at the honorific. As easy as it is to tease the other boy, there’s nothing he hates more than hierarchy. He’d spent long enough robbed of his own dignity that it crushed the desire to minimize anyone else’s. Like Maki, who worked hard to shed the baggage of her family name and any status that came with it, Inumaki was invested in their class being a group of equals, regardless of sorcerer grade or experience.
“Sujiko,” he says. Just call me Toge.
Okkotsu blinks at him, and Inumaki realizes two things: one, that the other boy’s eyes are an ocean-deep cerulean blue; and two, that without their other classmates, he has no idea what Inumaki is saying because they’re hardly ever alone together.
He tries not to think about what that means for his Gojo-entrusted mission of ‘watching over’ the special grade as he waves his own pen in the air, making a writing motion.
“Um— yeah! Yes, I’m here to study too. Mind if I join you?” Okkotsu says.
“Tsuna.” Cool.
Awkward as ever, Okkotsu places his notebook down across from Inumaki and begins perusing the shelves. If he’s worried about the same lesson, then Inumaki already has the books they’ll need at the table, but he lets Okkotsu buy himself time for a bit. It’s hard to tell from how small he keeps himself all the time, but Okkotsu has broad, strong shoulders beneath his nervous posture. As he stalks among the shelves with his hands in his pockets, relaxed for once, Inumaki stares at his back, revising all but forgotten.
He was not new to being misunderstood. It had taken Maki and Panda weeks to start inferring and contextualizing the meaning in his onigiri language. Unfortunately for Okkotsu there was no class or teacher for this unique brand of communication. He’d have to work at it just like everyone else did. Everyone else except Gojo, who for whatever reason was able to perfectly understand Inumaki from the very beginning.
“Inumaki-kun,” Okkotsu says, returning to the table, “do you know if there’s any books on the Sengoku period? I wanted to study Gojo-sensei’s history lecture. Maki-san said he gives pop quizzes sometimes.”
“Shake,” Inumaki replies. Sure. He taps the book open before him, pages yellowed and pungent but more than legible.
Okkotsu looks between the book and Inumaki’s face a few times, and the latter is glad for his scarf. “You knew I was looking for it the whole time, didn’t you?”
Inumaki raises an eyebrow. “Tsuna.” Maybe.
“Maki-san was right. You are a troll, Inumaki-kun,” Okkotsu says with a disarming half-smile, and Inumaki’s only reaction is to look away with a roll of his eyes.
“Sujiko,” he says, a bit more firm. Stop calling me that.
Okkotsu simply blinks at him again. “I’m sorry, I’m really trying, but I don’t understand you yet Inumaki-kun. Gojo-sensei said it takes a few months for most—“
Inumaki interrupts by tapping his pen on the table, then flips his notebook open to a blank page and starts to write. Please just call me Toge.
He slides the page across the table, and Okkotsu reads it quickly before locking eyes with him again. “Oh. Okay, Toge. Sorry.”
He makes grabby hands at the notebook, and Okkotsu is about to slide it back until he hesitates. In one fluid motion, like a shark that needs to keep swimming or else drown, he picks up both their notebooks and migrates to the chair on Inumaki’s right, sitting down with a huff. He plants the notebook between them and stares sheepishly.
“This will probably work better. What were you gonna say?”
Inumaki blinks. This close, he can see the moody blue eyes in more detail, noting the thin, faded rings of grey closer to the pupils. He shakes his head and starts writing again.
You say sorry too much.
Okkotsu huffs through his nose. “Maki-san says the same thing. Maybe everyone else doesn’t say it enough.”
Inumaki shrugs and turns back to his notes. He makes it about two minutes before Okkotsu, shuffling nervously besides him, lets out a thin sigh.
“Konbu?” What is it?
Okkotsu interprets well enough. “I’m nervous about the exam. I want to do well.”
It’s just Gojo. It barely matters. We’re here for sorcery anyway, Inumaki writes.
“I know, I just—“ he stops himself.
“Takana?” Just what?
“I wanna do my best. I want to be worth the effort it took to get me here,” he says solemnly, and Inumaki stares at him for a moment. It’s not an unfamiliar sentiment. A lot of rules were broken or outright discarded in order for Inumaki to leave his clan and enroll at Jujutsu Tech. “And… I want to repay Gojo-sensei and Maki-san for their efforts in training me. Especially Maki-san,” he mutters, almost to himself.
Inumaki swallows. Another strange feeling turns over in the pit of his stomach, and it’s related to the way their classmate’s name is consistently followed by a haughty honorific that betrays Okkotsu’s total respect for her. He feels the prickle of irritation again, and just like before, refuses to acknowledge it. He scribbles quickly onto the paper.
You think Maki will be impressed by your grades?
Okkotsu scoffs, bringing one hand to the back of his neck to rub nervously. “N-not impressed! I just mean, I don’t want her to think I’m not giving it my all. Especially when her conviction for being a sorcerer seems so clear to her. I have to show her I’m not just some useless kid.”
You aren’t useless. But we’re all kids.
“I guess that’s fair,” Okkotsu says, biting his lip as he turns back to his notebook. Inumaki puts the large, decrepit textbook between them on the table and tries to focus once more on his own notes, but today has another lesson planned for him: Okkotsu doesn’t really know when to stop talking. It’s quite a contrast to Inumaki’s near-total vow of silence. “Can I ask yours, Inu– Toge?”
My what?
“Your reason for being a sorcerer.”
Slowly, Inumaki’s entire body comes to a stop, from his eyes scanning the textbook, to his fingers fiddling with his pen, to the rise and fall of his breath. That perfect stillness isn’t lost on Okkotsu, but the reasons behind it are. Inumaki thinks of how hellish his life seemed this time last year, when he was little more than a rabid mutt just one missed meal away from turning on its handler. He thinks of the sacrifices made to wiggle him into a spot at this school. He thinks of the three months before his first term began, alone on campus because no one else wanted him, simultaneously awestruck and terrified by a modern world that to him seemed almost alien in its newness.
“Um, Maki-san mentioned you might have a similar situation with your family, since you come from a big clan and all. I think it’s brave to leave all that behind,” Okkotsu says, made even more nervous by Inumaki’s rigid silence.
He thinks hard about his response. It’s private, he writes quickly.
Okkotsu nods vigorously. “Of course. Sorry for asking.”
There’s that apology again. He tries to act like the conversation is over, but Inumaki can tell he’s convinced that the silence is due to some grand offense he’s committed and not Inumaki’s own paralysis. He taps Okkotsu’s shoulder to get his attention, but avoids his eyes as he writes: I’m here because there’s nowhere else for me to go.
When Okkotsu looks up from reading to see Inumaki gesturing at the sigils under his scarf, his expression morphs into one of sadness. It’s a bit too close to pity for Inumaki’s comfort. He decides to change course.
Maki just tells you everything, doesn’t she?
Okkotsu turns red and stutters. “I didn’t mean to pry! We were just discussing our pasts during training the other day, and she happened to bring it up, and I was curious so… I’ll shut up now. I’m sorry, Inumaki-kun. Toge, I mean!”
The flare of irritation is becoming familiar. Maki is usually as fun to talk to as a wet paper towel, but all of the sudden she’s an open book with Okkotsu? Of all the things she must have told him, once is certainly true and very easy for Inumaki to prove. If Maki wants a troll, she’ll get one.
I can help you study. The lesson’s not too bad, he writes quickly.
Okkotsu’s surprise overwhelms his timidity, and he seems to have no problem with another abrupt change in subject. “Really? That would be great. I hadn’t really been keeping up with history before I enrolled here, with all the stuff going on with Rika-chan.”
“Shake,” Inumaki replies. No problem.
At the sight of Okkotsu’s small smile, he feels the slightest twinge of guilt for what he’s about to do. But to be honest, he’s done much worse.
***
Zen’in Maki started a private chat with you.
Toge.
Did you give Yuuta the wrong answers to the history test?
maki
whatever do you mean
??
He said you offered to help him study in the library the other day but when Gojo gave us the test he had no idea what was going on.
im not the teacher
gojo is
why would i give him the wrong answers on purpose
Because you’re you.
I bet you’re smiling at your phone right now.
well yes
but only because i just saw a hilarious vid
ill send it to you
Don’t bother.
Literally what did you gain from this?
i haven’t admitted to anything
it sounds like yuuta failed a test
it’s school
it happens
Yeah sure it happens. It happens when your friends sabotage you to make it happen.
omg maki
even if i did
what is the big deal it’s a stupid test
he’s not gonna be a historian
he’s a special grade sorcerer
It’s a big deal to him.
He came to me on the verge of tears to ask if you would do something like that.
and you told him yes i bet
like you told him about my clan without my permission
so now im just some horrible monster
No one said that, Toge.
He’s gonna learn about your clan eventually.
We’re all allegedly friends here.
Which is why I told him I’d ask you about the test.
well i didn’t do anything
if he was confused he should have had rika take the test instead
That’s not funny.
wasn't joking
He just seems super upset about this.
okay????
last i heard you thought he was a crybaby
so idk why you’re going to bat for him all of the sudden
what are you, his girlfriend?
Fuck you.
***
The first years spar with each other almost every day, always by Maki’s request, but once a week Gojo pairs them up and properly observes them for their afternoon sorcery training. Today Maki and Panda are going at it, graceful as ever, while Gojo watches with a hand on his chin. Occasionally he’ll call out across the sunny grass: “Watch your balance on the roundhouse, Maki!” or “Don’t be too predictable, Panda!” The combatants adjust to the feedback right away without ever missing a beat in the rhythm of their battle.
Inumaki and Okkotsu sit on the steps. They’re supposed to be watching too, but instead Inumaki finds himself sneaking glances at the other boy. Apparently he’s still upset about the history test, evinced by the mountain of distance between them and the complete lack of conversation. Which wouldn’t go very far, to be fair, even after four months together.
Still, Inumaki can’t help but try to catch Okkotsu’s eyes and break the ice between them. He never actually admitted to the harmless prank, but if apologizing was necessary to restore the camaraderie between the first years, he was more than willing to do so. If Okkotsu would just give him the chance.
(Of course, there’s the tiny voice in his head that keeps asking why he did it, even if it was harmless. It asks why, if he’s not at fault, he feels so damn guilty about it. But he ignores that tiny voice.)
He’s lost in thought when suddenly the world is ocean blue. Okkotsu is staring right back at him, face twisted in a cocktail of emotions garnished by a bitten lower lip. In a way, they’re sizing each other up— it won’t be long until it’s their turn in the ring— but Inumaki can tell Okkotsu has something he’d like to say. And despite the cursed speech user’s proclivity for silence, he finds that he desperately wants to know what the other boy is thinking.
Maki beats Panda four to two in a best of seven. It’s lower than average for Panda, who usually ends up taking three or even winning against the cursed tool superstar because he can barely feel pain. Inumaki and Okkotsu are almost always clean sweeps for the queen of close combat, so despite everything Inumaki is happy he’s not fighting her today.
At Gojo’s command, he takes his position opposite Okkotsu on the field. Just because he wants to make peace doesn’t mean he’ll let Okkotsu win— and if the other boy’s record against Maki is anything to go by, Inumaki can apologize all he wants once Okkotsu is in the dirt. So he meets the steel determination in his opponents eyes with a casual, cool indifference. It’s the perfect bait for the inexperienced Okkotsu, who charges the second Gojo claps his hands.
The first round ends when Inumaki spins behind Okkotsu and punches him square in the kidney. The second round ends with a kick spin that knocks Okkotsu flat on his back. He finds rhythm in the third round, though, and applies enough pressure to break Inumaki’s guard— but Inumaki is faster, and manages a palm strike to Okkotsu’s solar plexus that knocks the wind out of him.
Round four is match point for Inumaki, and it’s clear that Okkotsu is frustrated. None of Gojo’s suggestions have improved his prowess. He’s operating purely on emotion, proven by the way he glances at the spectators between each round, flushing red with more than just exertion. He’s allegedly the future of jujutsu society, embarrassed to be humbled so soundly by a mute second grade sorcerer with debatably poor conflict resolution skills.
So when Gojo claps again, he bursts towards Inumaki with unprecedented speed and tackles him to the ground by the waist like a game of American football. Inumaki is admittedly surprised by the desperate ploy. As soon as he hits the ground he starts to twist into position to reverse the hold and escape, but Okkotsu is still somehow faster, landing a deft punch to Inumaki’s gut before hosting him up by the collar with one hand, the other poised for a knockout.
Inumaki wheezes, raising his hands in surrender, but Okkotsu doesn’t release the hold. Instead he speaks, and his voice quivers with frustration. “Why the fuck did you feed me the wrong answers to the test, Toge? What did I do to you?”
“Yuuta, calm down.” Panda’s warning carries across the field, but the special grade doesn’t heed it. When their fuzzy classmate tries to prompt Gojo to act instead, their sensei remains perfectly still, watching them through his blindfold with an unreadable expression.
“Ikura,” Inumaki says, wrapping his hands around Okkotsu’s wrist where it grips his collar. I’m sorry. He tries to pry himself free, but Okkotsu’s grip is nearly as tough as Maki’s. It’s kind of terrifying.
“You know I don’t understand that,” Okkotsu says, lowering his fist. “You embarrassed me in front of Maki-san and Gojo-sensei. Just for laughs? Or what?”
“Sujiko.” I said I’m sorry.
Those eyes– those unfathomable, endless eyes– spill over with a sudden, icy rage that surprises everyone on the pitch. Gojo and Panda shift in time with Okkotsu’s cursed energy, which surges forth alongside his emotions. With his free hand he grabs Inumaki’s scarf and rips it away, hesitating only briefly at the sight of the cursed snake eyes and fangs that adorn Inumaki’s profaned mouth. “Tell me why you did it. And talk normally,” Okkotsu spits.
Now it’s Inumaki’s turn to feel ashamed, naked without the scarf covering his greatest burden. He feels doubly exposed knowing that Maki had told Okkotsu the weight the sigils carry both symbolically and materially for his life as a sorcerer. Whether or not she gave him the details, Okkotsu ought to know by now how cautious Inumaki is about his voice and his words. He’d woken up today with every intention of making peace, not war– but if Okkotsu wants to fight, he’ll get a fucking fight.
“He can’t, Yuuta,” Maki says, and her almost bored tone makes Inumaki even angrier.
“Okay,” Inumaki says, and the cursed energy ripples across the field in wild, unkempt waves. It’s enough to make Okkotsu wince, fist wobbling where it’s wound back by his ear. Inumaki sees his window and takes it.
“Blas-“
Before the curse can leave his lips— one curse of many that he swore to Principal Yaga, Gojo, his mother, and himself that he would never use on an ally or innocent civilian– Gojo intervenes, warping into the fray and out with Inumaki, one strong, cold hand clamped over his mouth and the other vise-tight around his throat. In an instant they’re standing ten feet away from Okkotsu, who now kneels in the grass with near-empty hands, bewildered. Panda and Maki are watching intently from the steps, his jaw wide open and her face completely blank.
“Toge,” Gojo says softly, “I expect better from you.”
Inumaki strains against his sensei’s hold to reply, but Gojo’s hands are like steel, unforgiving and immovable. By now Okkotsu is watching Inumaki be held like a loaded weapon– his mouth the barrel and his throat the trigger. His eyes sting as soon as they meet Okkotsu’s, who’s still reeling from his outburst and barely aware that Inumaki had tried to kill him. Yet Inumaki refuses to cry. He hasn’t cried once since he left the estate, and he sure as hell won’t start now.
“If I release you, you’re not going to curse Okkotsu-kun, right?” Gojo says loud enough for the others to hear, injected with his usual, facetious cheer.
Inumaki shakes his head, and the moment he’s released he turns his back to his classmates, ashamed. His chest is heaving. “Sujiko,” he says to no one, or maybe to all of them. I’m sorry.
He makes for the dorms at full speed, but halfway across the field, he realizes Okkotsu is still holding his scarf.
***
Okkotsu Yuuta has started a private chat with you.
Hi
I’m sorry about today
I overreacted
I’d like to talk about it when you get the chance
If texting is easier that works too
But at the end of the day we’re classmates and we’ll have to work together regardless
I guess you don’t have to reply
I want to be your friend, Toge
***
Unless he’s preoccupied with a mission or other important special grade business, Gojo also spends three hours a week with each of his students to develop and improve their individual techniques and make a scaffold for their personal training regiment. It just so happens that the day after the disastrous sparring match is Gojo’s one-on-one session with Inumaki.
Cursed speech is easily the most difficult and dangerous technique among the four first years. It’s why Inumaki is already a second grade sorcerer. His technique comes with immense power and adaptability, but also a burden of responsibility beyond what most are willing or able to carry. So when he trains with Gojo, he does so on the outskirts of campus, nestled into the mountains that frame Jujutsu Tech’s star-crossed pagodas.
It’s only out here that he can practice his technique freely, unworried about harming his friends and unable to harm Gojo even if he wanted to. Usually, Gojo will throw up a veil and release some low-level curses for Inumaki to exorcise, following his movements and making suggestions on how to reinforce his technique.
Today is no different, except it is, because the day before he’d almost made a mistake that would’ve gotten him expelled. It’s different because all the precautions he usually took meant nothing in that single moment of careless frustration. It’s different because these precious hours Gojo spent helping Inumaki avoid proving the rest of the world wrong had instead proved to be a waste. After all, Gojo always says you have to be a little crazy to be a jujutsu sorcerer, so if even he was surprised by Inumaki’s behavior, he knows he’s truly fucked up.
When he arrived for his lesson, Inumaki had been expecting a lecture, or worse, a Gojo trademarked ‘tch’ burning with disappointment. The only words his sensei uttered, though, was the chant necessary to raise the barrier, and then he’d sprung into action.
“Explode!”
The three grade four curses before him obey instantly, staining the grass with curse blood and ashes. They’re weak enough that he doesn’t even feel an itch in his throat, and perhaps he can admit it’s overkill. That’s the eighth curse he’s exorcised with that command today, despite it being one of the more taxing in his arsenal.
Two grade threes charge from behind him. He backflips to dodge and barks his command while airborne. “Get crushed!”
Both are exorcised instantly, at the cost of a couple coughs. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, relieved to find no blood. He’s doing well. Gojo knows this, because his next words echo around the veil with his naturally irritating cheer. “How about we take it up a notch? Grade two?”
It will require some effort, and pretty much guarantee a visit to Ieiri-san for treatment afterwards. But Inumaki is feeling headstrong and daring after his tussle with Okkotsu. He’s hungry for a reminder that despite the circumstances of his enrollment, he has painstakingly earned his rank.
“Shake,” he says to the veil. Bring it on.
“Alright!” Gojo says, always happy to see his students push their limits.
The grade two is mildly strong, a grotesque slithering thing with a long, coiled body, two clawed arms, and orange skin. It has one single eye, all black, in between the arms, and where the crown of its head should be is a foul, drooling mouth. Its presence is considerably denser than the previous curses, but Inumaki’s dealt with much worse on real missions. He clears his throat as it approaches, hungry for the cursed energy the sorcerer is brimming with.
He has a strategy. If it doesn’t work, Gojo can step in to help and give his student suggestions for next time. If it does work, then Inumaki is one step closer to semi-grade one.
“Don’t move,” he orders as he sprints towards the curse. It stays frozen just long enough for him to get close. He grabs one of its arms just below the claw and orbits the coiled body until he’s made a perfect loop. Then, he focuses his cursed energy directly in front of his mouth as he looks at the arm and shouts, “Get twisted!”
He’s successful in only cursing the spirit’s arm, rather than its whole body. Because the limb is smaller and holds less cursed energy than the body as a whole, there’s almost no blowback in his throat. The arm looks like a wrung towel soaked in purple blood until Inumaki heaves, ripping it off the body with a pulse of cursed energy that ensures it won’t regenerate. At grade two, the curse is probably too weak to heal anyway, but it never hurts to be sure.
Enraged, the cursed spirit swipes at him with its other arm, but he dodges that too, and recreates the first maneuver. Limbless and screeching in pain, it uncoils its lower body and shoots towards Inumaki with surprising speed, but Inumaki had been anticipating that.
“Don’t move,” he says, “and fucking die!”
Cursed energy seems to rupture the very air behind the unorthodox and reckless command. The veil falls as the cursed spirit’s mangled body dissipates into ashes. Inumaki falls to the ground where he stands, coughing up spittle mixed with blood as his throat thrashes itself in the aftermath. After a few seconds a little blue bottle of numbing spray rolls across the dirt to collide with his knuckles, and he looks up to see Gojo strolling towards him casually.
He sprays his ailing throat instantly. The flavor is grape. His favorite.
“Not bad, Inumaki-kun. I know I say it every week, but it’s cool to see cursed speech in action. We both learn a lot from these sessions, don’t you think?”
“Mentaiko?” Inumaki asks, ignoring the question. Any feedback?
“Obviously,” Gojo says, gesturing to the blood seeping into the soil between Inumaki’s splayed fingers. The younger student stands upright to ensure Gojo can see the roll of his eyes.
“Your commands were more powerful than usual today, and with much less blowback. Can you tell me why?”
Before Inumaki can answer, Gojo starts walking, his white hair ruffling in the breeze that sweeps down the mountain towards the school. His student is forced to follow behind, exhausted from his training and still feeling a sting of pain in his throat.
“Sujiko.” Because I’m getting better.
Gojo hums. “While that is true, it’s not the right answer. Not today.”
Inumaki thinks for a moment. The moment it clicks, Gojo looks back at him through the blindfold like he heard it. With the nigh-omnipotent Six Eyes, he probably did. “Tsuna.” Because I’m mad.
“Yup. Anger is a common source of cursed energy for sorcerers, and an important trigger for many victories. But it’s important not to get carried away, especially in battle. It’s reckless.”
“Shake,” Inumaki says. I know.
“In a real fight, if you only let your emotions drive you, you’ll definitely lose. There needs to be a constant balance with logic. So while your technique seemed stronger today, it actually represents the total opposite of progress. I have to give you style points for the creative takedown, though. And cursing while cursing? Hilarious!”
They’re passing back into campus proper now, but Gojo is far from finished. He spins around, walking backwards as he speaks. “Yesterday you almost used your technique on Okkotsu-kun. Not exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to watch out for him. So I assume today’s performance is reflective of how you feel after trying to do the one thing you swore to me— and yourself— that you never would.”
Inumaki looks down at the ground like a beaten dog, submissive. The adrenaline of the training has worn off, and back in its place is the gnawing shame he’d felt since he ran away from the training pitch the day before. He’s no fool— he deserves much worse than a lecture. Gojo stops suddenly, and Inumaki watches him pull at the white linen wrapped around his eyes until it and his mop of cloudy hair fall free. But his eyes, those terrifying, celestial, piercing eyes look right past Inumaki’s and into his soul.
“I’ll be honest, Toge. I don’t much care what you’re fighting about. Youth is for the young people, after all. But out there, battling real curses? Hasty decisions made from emotion instead of logic will kill you. And Okkotsu, Maki, and Panda’s job is to keep you from dying, not cause it. I guess you don’t have to be the bestest of friends, but…”
Inumaki nods twice, and even though Gojo’s gaze is impossible to break free from, he doesn’t want to try. It’s rare for his sensei to be so sincere with his advice. It reminds Inumaki that he’s training under the strongest sorcerer to live in a half a millennium or even longer, a near-god among mortals. Somehow, it also made him seem more human. Only Gojo Satoru could make a reprimand feel like a gift.
“Takana. Ikura.” I understand. I’m sorry.
Gojo shrugs, turning back around and continuing towards the infirmary. “You didn’t do anything to me. Save it for your friends.”
They lapse into silence for the rest of the short walk to Ieiri, who is probably elbow deep in some cursed cadaver and wouldn’t mind the chance to see another human’s face for the first time today. Inumaki knows Gojo is right, and knows he should text Okkotsu back, but there’s still a part of him that’s hesitant to admit defeat.
When they arrive at the infirmary, Gojo still hasn’t replaced his blindfold. He turns around at the door and bends over at the waist, meeting Inumaki at eye level. “Last thing, and it’s a lesson I wish I’d learned at your age. Always lean on your training and logic first, but when it comes to emotion? Love is the strongest curse of all, Inumaki-kun.” With that he wraps his eyes back up with a smirk and starts walking away, choosing to let Ieiri treat his student in peace this time. Inumaki watches him go, mind buzzing at what love could possibly have to do with him and Okkotsu.
Ieiri Shoko rolls her eyes when he walks in— she’s well familiar with the day and time his technique training ends. As her warm, soothing reversed cursed technique calms the rawness in his throat, he slips his phone out of his pocket and angles it so that she can’t see.
You started a private chat with Okkotsu Yuuta.
i wanna be your friend too
im sorry
for the test and for the sparring match
we should talk soon
***
It becomes one of those plans that two people agree on but never really make happen. They just kind of accept the texts as a soft truce and go about their week as winter finally settles on Tokyo. Inumaki enjoys the way the dropping temperature causes his friends to don their own scarves and nuzzle into them as they walk to class or training. He gets to pretend they’re all just like him. But with all things jujutsu, nothing lasts forever– least of all, peace.
In a twisted, fucked-up way, he’s grateful for the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. Geto Suguru’s unprecedented act of jujutsu terrorism, revealed after the fact to be a complex ploy to kill Okkotsu and steal Rika’s power from him, causes folding and fraying in the delicate fabric of Jujutsu Tech.
Okkotsu comes into his own, saving the lives of all three of his classmates by learning reverse cursed technique on the fly and defeating Geto in single combat. It’s a fitting way to provide undeniable proof of his special grade status– killing one of the only other special grade humans alive. They’re all present to witness the release of Rika’s soul afterwards, and even if it weren’t for all the emotion and authentic love Okkotsu puts on display not just for her, but for them, too, the entire ordeal is still the type of thing that degrades any remaining barriers between them. All four of them are friends– war buddies, even– after an ordeal like that.
The release of Rika coincides with Okkotsu’s demotion to grade two, equaling Inumaki, despite the fact that his cursed technique was revealed in the battle to be the ability to copy others. Inumaki is partially terrified at the prospect of another first year using cursed speech, but he also feels a strange kind of relief. It’s not like he was conscious to witness it during the fight with Geto, and judging by the property damage left in the aftermath, he didn’t really want to be. It’s almost pleasant to imagine someone else understanding the complexities of his technique– even if he does get somewhat jealous that Okkotsu doesn’t have to wear the sigils on his mouth permanently.
The last thing he remembers before waking up in Ieiri’s infirmary is croaking out Okkotsu’s given name in an attempt to spare him from certain death. He chalks that particular choice up to the heat of the moment– nothing more– but is pleasantly surprised that he can still say the name afterwards with the same care and control as the onigiri ingredients. If Okkotsu’s name has become a functional safeword, then with enough study and tentative practice Inumaki could potentially discover others.
When the sun rises on Jujutsu Tech, their victory proves to be bittersweet. Gojo is the one to actually deal the killing blow to Geto. Inumaki is vaguely aware that there’s history there, that Gojo and Geto were students just like them ten years ago, alongside Ieiri and Nanami. The way their sensei becomes gloomy, distant, and more stressed in the wake of the attack only corroborates the floating rumor that he’d been forced to kill his very best friend. With power and skill like Gojo has, there’s a good chance an equal like Geto was the only friend he’d ever really have.
Because he’s notably less buoyant with his students, they respond by giving him space and keeping on top of their training and schoolwork. Despite how soundly they were beaten by Geto, Okkotsu’s RCT coupled with Ieiri’s sharp medical knowledge spared the original three first years a long, brutal stay in the basement. Maki has them all back on the pitch within a week. She and Okkotsu were the only ones present at the beginning of Geto’s assault; Maki was the victim of an ambush meant to bait and trap the inexperienced Okkotsu. Something about this espouses a closeness between them that excludes the rest. It’s apparent in the looks and smirks they start to share during sparring bouts, or the way each time the four of them walk together, Inumaki and Panda are suddenly and consistently paired up in the back.
It’s Panda who confirms Inumaki’s aching suspicion: Okkotsu and Maki are dating. He mentions it off-handed one day as he and Inumaki are working on their close combat. It’s enough of a shock to his system that he eats a left hook from Panda that sends him to the ground. He recovers before Panda, more perceptive than most give him credit for, can ask about it.
It shouldn’t bother him. It can’t bother him, or rather, he knows it has no right to. In the middle of dodging the relentless flurry of blows from Panda, he can't spare the time to poke at the callow pressure forming in his chest at the thought of Okkotsu and Maki together. He refuses to name the feeling that rises like bile in his gut at the thought of them kissing, even though it’s dubiously green.
And above all else, he’s absolutely determined to shake his head clear of what’s been haunting him since Geto’s attack: the memory of lying in a pool of his own blood, choking out Okkotsu’s given name, begging him to save himself. He'd still said it knowing the name could have killed him, if its sound had taken any cursed energy with it. He simply can’t fathom why, on the brink of death, Okkotsu’s– Yuuta’s– safety was the only thing on his mind.
So he doesn’t think about it. He crosses Panda up until he’s off balance and then shoulder checks him into the dirt. And when the cursed corpse looks up at him wide-eyed and indignant, Inumaki pulls down his scarf and sticks out his tongue, baring his fangs.
***
You started a private chat with Zen’in Maki.
why am i finding out through panda
Finding what out?
you and yuuta
Oh. That.
It just kind of happened.
rightttt
who the hell are you
and what have you done with maki
Ha-ha.
It’s still new and we don’t know what we’re doing.
duhh
but are you happy about it
Sure. He certainly is.
i am gonna be sooo annoying about this
I know.
Why do you think you’re the last to know?
ugh
even gojo knows?
Why the fuck would that idiot know?
>:)
Inumaki Toge.
0_0
Do you want to fucking die?
:P